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If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The house of Mirth + +Author: Edith Wharton + +Release Date: June 1, 1995 [eBook #284] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF MIRTH *** + + + + + The House of Mirth + + BY + + EDITH WHARTON + + + + +BOOK ONE + + + + +Chapter 1 + + +Selden paused in surprise. In the afternoon rush of the Grand +Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss +Lily Bart. + +It was a Monday in early September, and he was returning to his +work from a hurried dip into the country; but what was Miss Bart +doing in town at that season? If she had appeared to be catching a +train, he might have inferred that he had come on her in the act +of transition between one and another of the country houses which +disputed her presence after the close of the Newport season; but +her desultory air perplexed him. She stood apart from the crowd, +letting it drift by her to the platform or the street, and wearing +an air of irresolution which might, as he surmised, be the mask of +a very definite purpose. It struck him at once that she was waiting +for some one, but he hardly knew why the idea arrested him. There +was nothing new about Lily Bart, yet he could never see her without +a faint movement of interest: it was characteristic of her that she +always roused speculation, that her simplest acts seemed the result +of far-reaching intentions. + +An impulse of curiosity made him turn out of his direct line to the +door, and stroll past her. He knew that if she did not wish to be +seen she would contrive to elude him; and it amused him to think of +putting her skill to the test. + +“Mr. Selden—what good luck!” + +She came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to intercept +him. One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; +for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller +rushing to his last train. + +Selden had never seen her more radiant. Her vivid head, relieved +against the dull tints of the crowd, made her more conspicuous than +in a ball-room, and under her dark hat and veil she regained the +girlish smoothness, the purity of tint, that she was beginning to +lose after eleven years of late hours and indefatigable dancing. +Was it really eleven years, Selden found himself wondering, and had +she indeed reached the nine-and-twentieth birthday with which her +rivals credited her? + +“What luck!” she repeated. “How nice of you to come to my rescue!” + +He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and +asked what form the rescue was to take. + +“Oh, almost any—even to sitting on a bench and talking to me. One +sits out a cotillion—why not sit out a train? It isn’t a bit hotter +here than in Mrs. Van Osburgh’s conservatory—and some of the women +are not a bit uglier.” She broke off, laughing, to explain that she +had come up to town from Tuxedo, on her way to the Gus Trenors’ at +Bellomont, and had missed the three-fifteen train to Rhinebeck. +“And there isn’t another till half-past five.” She consulted the +little jewelled watch among her laces. “Just two hours to wait. And +I don’t know what to do with myself. My maid came up this morning +to do some shopping for me, and was to go on to Bellomont at one +o’clock, and my aunt’s house is closed, and I don’t know a soul in +town.” She glanced plaintively about the station. “It IS hotter +than Mrs. Van Osburgh’s, after all. If you can spare the time, do +take me somewhere for a breath of air.” + +He declared himself entirely at her disposal: the adventure struck +him as diverting. As a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart; +and his course lay so far out of her orbit that it amused him to +be drawn for a moment into the sudden intimacy which her proposal +implied. + +“Shall we go over to Sherry’s for a cup of tea?” + +She smiled assentingly, and then made a slight grimace. + +“So many people come up to town on a Monday—one is sure to meet a +lot of bores. I’m as old as the hills, of course, and it ought not +to make any difference; but if I’M old enough, you’re not,” she +objected gaily. “I’m dying for tea—but isn’t there a quieter place?” + +He answered her smile, which rested on him vividly. Her discretions +interested him almost as much as her imprudences: he was so sure +that both were part of the same carefully-elaborated plan. In +judging Miss Bart, he had always made use of the “argument from +design.” + +“The resources of New York are rather meagre,” he said; “but I’ll +find a hansom first, and then we’ll invent something.” He led her +through the throng of returning holiday-makers, past sallow-faced +girls in preposterous hats, and flat-chested women struggling with +paper bundles and palm-leaf fans. Was it possible that she belonged +to the same race? The dinginess, the crudity of this average +section of womanhood made him feel how highly specialized she was. + +A rapid shower had cooled the air, and clouds still hung +refreshingly over the moist street. + +“How delicious! Let us walk a little,” she said as they emerged +from the station. + +They turned into Madison Avenue and began to stroll northward. +As she moved beside him, with her long light step, Selden was +conscious of taking a luxurious pleasure in her nearness: in the +modelling of her little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair—was +it ever so slightly brightened by art?—and the thick planting +of her straight black lashes. Everything about her was at once +vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused +sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great +many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have +been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities +distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: +as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been +applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a +coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible +that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it +into a futile shape? + +As he reached this point in his speculations the sun came out, and +her lifted parasol cut off his enjoyment. A moment or two later she +paused with a sigh. + +“Oh, dear, I’m so hot and thirsty—and what a hideous place New York +is!” She looked despairingly up and down the dreary thoroughfare. +“Other cities put on their best clothes in summer, but New York +seems to sit in its shirtsleeves.” Her eyes wandered down one of +the side streets. “Someone has had the humanity to plant a few +trees over there. Let us go into the shade.” + +“I am glad my street meets with your approval,” said Selden as they +turned the corner. + +“Your street? Do you live here?” + +She glanced with interest along the new brick and limestone +house-fronts, fantastically varied in obedience to the American +craving for novelty, but fresh and inviting with their awnings and +flower-boxes. + +“Ah, yes—to be sure: THE BENEDICK. What a nice-looking building! +I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.” She looked across at the +flat-house with its marble porch and pseudo-Georgian facade. “Which +are your windows? Those with the awnings down?” + +“On the top floor—yes.” + +“And that nice little balcony is yours? How cool it looks up there!” + +He paused a moment. “Come up and see,” he suggested. “I can give +you a cup of tea in no time—and you won’t meet any bores.” + +Her colour deepened—she still had the art of blushing at the right +time—but she took the suggestion as lightly as it was made. + +“Why not? It’s too tempting—I’ll take the risk,” she declared. + +“Oh, I’m not dangerous,” he said in the same key. In truth, he +had never liked her as well as at that moment. He knew she had +accepted without afterthought: he could never be a factor in her +calculations, and there was a surprise, a refreshment almost, in +the spontaneity of her consent. + +On the threshold he paused a moment, feeling for his latchkey. + +“There’s no one here; but I have a servant who is supposed to come +in the mornings, and it’s just possible he may have put out the +tea-things and provided some cake.” + +He ushered her into a slip of a hall hung with old prints. She +noticed the letters and notes heaped on the table among his gloves +and sticks; then she found herself in a small library, dark but +cheerful, with its walls of books, a pleasantly faded Turkey rug, +a littered desk and, as he had foretold, a tea-tray on a low table +near the window. A breeze had sprung up, swaying inward the muslin +curtains, and bringing a fresh scent of mignonette and petunias +from the flower-box on the balcony. + +Lily sank with a sigh into one of the shabby leather chairs. + +“How delicious to have a place like this all to one’s self! What a +miserable thing it is to be a woman.” She leaned back in a luxury +of discontent. + +Selden was rummaging in a cupboard for the cake. + +“Even women,” he said, “have been known to enjoy the privileges of +a flat.” + +“Oh, governesses—or widows. But not girls—not poor, miserable, +marriageable girls!” + +“I even know a girl who lives in a flat.” + +She sat up in surprise. “You do?” + +“I do,” he assured her, emerging from the cupboard with the +sought-for cake. + +“Oh, I know—you mean Gerty Farish.” She smiled a little unkindly. +“But I said MARRIAGEABLE—and besides, she has a horrid little +place, and no maid, and such queer things to eat. Her cook does the +washing and the food tastes of soap. I should hate that, you know.” + +“You shouldn’t dine with her on wash-days,” said Selden, cutting +the cake. + +They both laughed, and he knelt by the table to light the lamp +under the kettle, while she measured out the tea into a little +tea-pot of green glaze. As he watched her hand, polished as a +bit of old ivory, with its slender pink nails, and the sapphire +bracelet slipping over her wrist, he was struck with the irony +of suggesting to her such a life as his cousin Gertrude Farish +had chosen. She was so evidently the victim of the civilization +which had produced her, that the links of her bracelet seemed like +manacles chaining her to her fate. + +She seemed to read his thought. “It was horrid of me to say that of +Gerty,” she said with charming compunction. “I forgot she was your +cousin. But we’re so different, you know: she likes being good, +and I like being happy. And besides, she is free and I am not. If +I were, I daresay I could manage to be happy even in her flat. It +must be pure bliss to arrange the furniture just as one likes, and +give all the horrors to the ash-man. If I could only do over my +aunt’s drawing-room I know I should be a better woman.” + +“Is it so very bad?” he asked sympathetically. + +She smiled at him across the tea-pot which she was holding up to be +filled. + +“That shows how seldom you come there. Why don’t you come oftener?” + +“When I do come, it’s not to look at Mrs. Peniston’s furniture.” + +“Nonsense,” she said. “You don’t come at all—and yet we get on so +well when we meet.” + +“Perhaps that’s the reason,” he answered promptly. “I’m afraid +I haven’t any cream, you know—shall you mind a slice of lemon +instead?” + +“I shall like it better.” She waited while he cut the lemon and +dropped a thin disk into her cup. “But that is not the reason,” she +insisted. + +“The reason for what?” + +“For your never coming.” She leaned forward with a shade of +perplexity in her charming eyes. “I wish I knew—I wish I could make +you out. Of course I know there are men who don’t like me—one can +tell that at a glance. And there are others who are afraid of me: +they think I want to marry them.” She smiled up at him frankly. +“But I don’t think you dislike me—and you can’t possibly think I +want to marry you.” + +“No—I absolve you of that,” he agreed. + +“Well, then——?” + +He had carried his cup to the fireplace, and stood leaning against +the chimney-piece and looking down on her with an air of indolent +amusement. The provocation in her eyes increased his amusement—he +had not supposed she would waste her powder on such small game; but +perhaps she was only keeping her hand in; or perhaps a girl of her +type had no conversation but of the personal kind. At any rate, she +was amazingly pretty, and he had asked her to tea and must live up +to his obligations. + +“Well, then,” he said with a plunge, “perhaps THAT’S the reason.” + +“What?” + +“The fact that you don’t want to marry me. Perhaps I don’t regard +it as such a strong inducement to go and see you.” He felt a slight +shiver down his spine as he ventured this, but her laugh reassured +him. + +“Dear Mr. Selden, that wasn’t worthy of you. It’s stupid of you to +make love to me, and it isn’t like you to be stupid.” She leaned +back, sipping her tea with an air so enchantingly judicial that, +if they had been in her aunt’s drawing-room, he might almost have +tried to disprove her deduction. + +“Don’t you see,” she continued, “that there are men enough to say +pleasant things to me, and that what I want is a friend who won’t +be afraid to say disagreeable ones when I need them? Sometimes I +have fancied you might be that friend—I don’t know why, except that +you are neither a prig nor a bounder, and that I shouldn’t have +to pretend with you or be on my guard against you.” Her voice had +dropped to a note of seriousness, and she sat gazing up at him with +the troubled gravity of a child. + +“You don’t know how much I need such a friend,” she said. “My aunt +is full of copy-book axioms, but they were all meant to apply to +conduct in the early fifties. I always feel that to live up to them +would include wearing book-muslin with gigot sleeves. And the other +women—my best friends—well, they use me or abuse me; but they don’t +care a straw what happens to me. I’ve been about too long—people +are getting tired of me; they are beginning to say I ought to marry.” + +There was a moment’s pause, during which Selden meditated one or +two replies calculated to add a momentary zest to the situation; +but he rejected them in favour of the simple question: “Well, why +don’t you?” + +She coloured and laughed. “Ah, I see you ARE a friend after all, +and that is one of the disagreeable things I was asking for.” + +“It wasn’t meant to be disagreeable,” he returned amicably. “Isn’t +marriage your vocation? Isn’t it what you’re all brought up for?” + +She sighed. “I suppose so. What else is there?” + +“Exactly. And so why not take the plunge and have it over?” + +She shrugged her shoulders. “You speak as if I ought to marry the +first man who came along.” + +“I didn’t mean to imply that you are as hard put to it as that. But +there must be some one with the requisite qualifications.” + +She shook her head wearily. “I threw away one or two good chances +when I first came out—I suppose every girl does; and you know I +am horribly poor—and very expensive. I must have a great deal of +money.” + +Selden had turned to reach for a cigarette-box on the mantelpiece. + +“What’s become of Dillworth?” he asked. + +“Oh, his mother was frightened—she was afraid I should have all the +family jewels reset. And she wanted me to promise that I wouldn’t +do over the drawing-room.” + +“The very thing you are marrying for!” + +“Exactly. So she packed him off to India.” + +“Hard luck—but you can do better than Dillworth.” + +He offered the box, and she took out three or four cigarettes, +putting one between her lips and slipping the others into a little +gold case attached to her long pearl chain. + +“Have I time? Just a whiff, then.” She leaned forward, holding the +tip of her cigarette to his. As she did so, he noted, with a purely +impersonal enjoyment, how evenly the black lashes were set in her +smooth white lids, and how the purplish shade beneath them melted +into the pure pallor of the cheek. + +She began to saunter about the room, examining the bookshelves +between the puffs of her cigarette-smoke. Some of the volumes +had the ripe tints of good tooling and old morocco, and her eyes +lingered on them caressingly, not with the appreciation of the +expert, but with the pleasure in agreeable tones and textures that +was one of her inmost susceptibilities. Suddenly her expression +changed from desultory enjoyment to active conjecture, and she +turned to Selden with a question. + +“You collect, don’t you—you know about first editions and things?” + +“As much as a man may who has no money to spend. Now and then I +pick up something in the rubbish heap; and I go and look on at the +big sales.” + +She had again addressed herself to the shelves, but her eyes now +swept them inattentively, and he saw that she was preoccupied with +a new idea. + +“And Americana—do you collect Americana?” + +Selden stared and laughed. + +“No, that’s rather out of my line. I’m not really a collector, you +see; I simply like to have good editions of the books I am fond of.” + +She made a slight grimace. “And Americana are horribly dull, I +suppose?” + +“I should fancy so—except to the historian. But your real collector +values a thing for its rarity. I don’t suppose the buyers of +Americana sit up reading them all night—old Jefferson Gryce +certainly didn’t.” + +She was listening with keen attention. “And yet they fetch fabulous +prices, don’t they? It seems so odd to want to pay a lot for an +ugly badly-printed book that one is never going to read! And I +suppose most of the owners of Americana are not historians either?” + +“No; very few of the historians can afford to buy them. They have +to use those in the public libraries or in private collections. It +seems to be the mere rarity that attracts the average collector.” + +He had seated himself on an arm of the chair near which she was +standing, and she continued to question him, asking which were the +rarest volumes, whether the Jefferson Gryce collection was really +considered the finest in the world, and what was the largest price +ever fetched by a single volume. + +It was so pleasant to sit there looking up at her, as she lifted +now one book and then another from the shelves, fluttering the +pages between her fingers, while her drooping profile was outlined +against the warm background of old bindings, that he talked on +without pausing to wonder at her sudden interest in so unsuggestive +a subject. But he could never be long with her without trying to +find a reason for what she was doing, and as she replaced his +first edition of La Bruyere and turned away from the bookcases, +he began to ask himself what she had been driving at. Her next +question was not of a nature to enlighten him. She paused before +him with a smile which seemed at once designed to admit him to her +familiarity, and to remind him of the restrictions it imposed. + +“Don’t you ever mind,” she asked suddenly, “not being rich enough +to buy all the books you want?” + +He followed her glance about the room, with its worn furniture and +shabby walls. + +“Don’t I just? Do you take me for a saint on a pillar?” + +“And having to work—do you mind that?” + +“Oh, the work itself is not so bad—I’m rather fond of the law.” + +“No; but the being tied down: the routine—don’t you ever want to +get away, to see new places and people?” + +“Horribly—especially when I see all my friends rushing to the +steamer.” + +She drew a sympathetic breath. “But do you mind enough—to marry to +get out of it?” + +Selden broke into a laugh. “God forbid!” he declared. + +She rose with a sigh, tossing her cigarette into the grate. + +“Ah, there’s the difference—a girl must, a man may if he chooses.” +She surveyed him critically. “Your coat’s a little shabby—but who +cares? It doesn’t keep people from asking you to dine. If I were +shabby no one would have me: a woman is asked out as much for +her clothes as for herself. The clothes are the background, the +frame, if you like: they don’t make success, but they are a part +of it. Who wants a dingy woman? We are expected to be pretty and +well-dressed till we drop—and if we can’t keep it up alone, we have +to go into partnership.” + +Selden glanced at her with amusement: it was impossible, even with +her lovely eyes imploring him, to take a sentimental view of her +case. + +“Ah, well, there must be plenty of capital on the look-out for +such an investment. Perhaps you’ll meet your fate tonight at the +Trenors’.” + +She returned his look interrogatively. + +“I thought you might be going there—oh, not in that capacity! But +there are to be a lot of your set—Gwen Van Osburgh, the Wetheralls, +Lady Cressida Raith—and the George Dorsets.” + +She paused a moment before the last name, and shot a query through +her lashes; but he remained imperturbable. + +“Mrs. Trenor asked me; but I can’t get away till the end of the +week; and those big parties bore me.” + +“Ah, so they do me,” she exclaimed. + +“Then why go?” + +“It’s part of the business—you forget! And besides, if I didn’t, I +should be playing bezique with my aunt at Richfield Springs.” + +“That’s almost as bad as marrying Dillworth,” he agreed, and they +both laughed for pure pleasure in their sudden intimacy. + +She glanced at the clock. + +“Dear me! I must be off. It’s after five.” + +She paused before the mantelpiece, studying herself in the mirror +while she adjusted her veil. The attitude revealed the long slope +of her slender sides, which gave a kind of wild-wood grace to +her outline—as though she were a captured dryad subdued to the +conventions of the drawing-room; and Selden reflected that it was +the same streak of sylvan freedom in her nature that lent such +savour to her artificiality. + +He followed her across the room to the entrance-hall; but on the +threshold she held out her hand with a gesture of leave-taking. + +“It’s been delightful; and now you will have to return my visit.” + +“But don’t you want me to see you to the station?” + +“No; good bye here, please.” + +She let her hand lie in his a moment, smiling up at him adorably. + +“Good bye, then—and good luck at Bellomont!” he said, opening the +door for her. + +On the landing she paused to look about her. There were a thousand +chances to one against her meeting anybody, but one could never +tell, and she always paid for her rare indiscretions by a violent +reaction of prudence. There was no one in sight, however, but a +char-woman who was scrubbing the stairs. Her own stout person and +its surrounding implements took up so much room that Lily, to pass +her, had to gather up her skirts and brush against the wall. As +she did so, the woman paused in her work and looked up curiously, +resting her clenched red fists on the wet cloth she had just drawn +from her pail. She had a broad sallow face, slightly pitted with +small-pox, and thin straw-coloured hair through which her scalp +shone unpleasantly. + +“I beg your pardon,” said Lily, intending by her politeness to +convey a criticism of the other’s manner. + +The woman, without answering, pushed her pail aside, and continued +to stare as Miss Bart swept by with a murmur of silken linings. +Lily felt herself flushing under the look. What did the creature +suppose? Could one never do the simplest, the most harmless thing, +without subjecting one’s self to some odious conjecture? Half way +down the next flight, she smiled to think that a char-woman’s stare +should so perturb her. The poor thing was probably dazzled by such +an unwonted apparition. But WERE such apparitions unwonted on +Selden’s stairs? Miss Bart was not familiar with the moral code of +bachelors’ flat-houses, and her colour rose again as it occurred to +her that the woman’s persistent gaze implied a groping among past +associations. But she put aside the thought with a smile at her own +fears, and hastened downward, wondering if she should find a cab +short of Fifth Avenue. + +Under the Georgian porch she paused again, scanning the street for +a hansom. None was in sight, but as she reached the sidewalk she +ran against a small glossy-looking man with a gardenia in his coat, +who raised his hat with a surprised exclamation. + +“Miss Bart? Well—of all people! This IS luck,” he declared; and she +caught a twinkle of amused curiosity between his screwed-up lids. + +“Oh, Mr. Rosedale—how are you?” she said, perceiving that the +irrepressible annoyance on her face was reflected in the sudden +intimacy of his smile. + +Mr. Rosedale stood scanning her with interest and approval. He +was a plump rosy man of the blond Jewish type, with smart London +clothes fitting him like upholstery, and small sidelong eyes which +gave him the air of appraising people as if they were bric-a-brac. +He glanced up interrogatively at the porch of the Benedick. + +“Been up to town for a little shopping, I suppose?” he said, in a +tone which had the familiarity of a touch. + +Miss Bart shrank from it slightly, and then flung herself into +precipitate explanations. + +“Yes—I came up to see my dress-maker. I am just on my way to catch +the train to the Trenors’.” + +“Ah—your dress-maker; just so,” he said blandly. “I didn’t know +there were any dress-makers in the Benedick.” + +“The Benedick?” She looked gently puzzled. “Is that the name of +this building?” + +“Yes, that’s the name: I believe it’s an old word for bachelor, +isn’t it? I happen to own the building—that’s the way I know.” His +smile deepened as he added with increasing assurance: “But you must +let me take you to the station. The Trenors are at Bellomont, of +course? You’ve barely time to catch the five-forty. The dress-maker +kept you waiting, I suppose.” + +Lily stiffened under the pleasantry. + +“Oh, thanks,” she stammered; and at that moment her eye caught +a hansom drifting down Madison Avenue, and she hailed it with a +desperate gesture. + +“You’re very kind; but I couldn’t think of troubling you,” she +said, extending her hand to Mr. Rosedale; and heedless of his +protestations, she sprang into the rescuing vehicle, and called out +a breathless order to the driver. + + + + +Chapter 2 + + +In the hansom she leaned back with a sigh. Why must a girl pay so +dearly for her least escape from routine? Why could one never do +a natural thing without having to screen it behind a structure of +artifice? She had yielded to a passing impulse in going to Lawrence +Selden’s rooms, and it was so seldom that she could allow herself +the luxury of an impulse! This one, at any rate, was going to cost +her rather more than she could afford. She was vexed to see that, +in spite of so many years of vigilance, she had blundered twice +within five minutes. That stupid story about her dress-maker was +bad enough—it would have been so simple to tell Rosedale that she +had been taking tea with Selden! The mere statement of the fact +would have rendered it innocuous. But, after having let herself +be surprised in a falsehood, it was doubly stupid to snub the +witness of her discomfiture. If she had had the presence of mind to +let Rosedale drive her to the station, the concession might have +purchased his silence. He had his race’s accuracy in the appraisal +of values, and to be seen walking down the platform at the crowded +afternoon hour in the company of Miss Lily Bart would have been +money in his pocket, as he might himself have phrased it. He knew, +of course, that there would be a large house-party at Bellomont, +and the possibility of being taken for one of Mrs. Trenor’s guests +was doubtless included in his calculations. Mr. Rosedale was still +at a stage in his social ascent when it was of importance to +produce such impressions. + +The provoking part was that Lily knew all this—knew how easy it +would have been to silence him on the spot, and how difficult it +might be to do so afterward. Mr. Simon Rosedale was a man who +made it his business to know everything about every one, whose +idea of showing himself to be at home in society was to display +an inconvenient familiarity with the habits of those with whom +he wished to be thought intimate. Lily was sure that within +twenty-four hours the story of her visiting her dress-maker at +the Benedick would be in active circulation among Mr. Rosedale’s +acquaintances. The worst of it was that she had always snubbed and +ignored him. On his first appearance—when her improvident cousin, +Jack Stepney, had obtained for him (in return for favours too +easily guessed) a card to one of the vast impersonal Van Osburgh +“crushes”—Rosedale, with that mixture of artistic sensibility and +business astuteness which characterizes his race, had instantly +gravitated toward Miss Bart. She understood his motives, for +her own course was guided by as nice calculations. Training and +experience had taught her to be hospitable to newcomers, since the +most unpromising might be useful later on, and there were plenty +of available OUBLIETTES to swallow them if they were not. But +some intuitive repugnance, getting the better of years of social +discipline, had made her push Mr. Rosedale into his OUBLIETTE +without a trial. He had left behind only the ripple of amusement +which his speedy despatch had caused among her friends; and though +later (to shift the metaphor) he reappeared lower down the stream, +it was only in fleeting glimpses, with long submergences between. + +Hitherto Lily had been undisturbed by scruples. In her little set +Mr. Rosedale had been pronounced “impossible,” and Jack Stepney +roundly snubbed for his attempt to pay his debts in dinner +invitations. Even Mrs. Trenor, whose taste for variety had led +her into some hazardous experiments, resisted Jack’s attempts to +disguise Mr. Rosedale as a novelty, and declared that he was the +same little Jew who had been served up and rejected at the social +board a dozen times within her memory; and while Judy Trenor was +obdurate there was small chance of Mr. Rosedale’s penetrating +beyond the outer limbo of the Van Osburgh crushes. Jack gave up the +contest with a laughing “You’ll see,” and, sticking manfully to his +guns, showed himself with Rosedale at the fashionable restaurants, +in company with the personally vivid if socially obscure ladies who +are available for such purposes. But the attempt had hitherto been +vain, and as Rosedale undoubtedly paid for the dinners, the laugh +remained with his debtor. + +Mr. Rosedale, it will be seen, was thus far not a factor to be +feared—unless one put one’s self in his power. And this was +precisely what Miss Bart had done. Her clumsy fib had let him see +that she had something to conceal; and she was sure he had a score +to settle with her. Something in his smile told her he had not +forgotten. She turned from the thought with a little shiver, but +it hung on her all the way to the station, and dogged her down the +platform with the persistency of Mr. Rosedale himself. + +She had just time to take her seat before the train started; but +having arranged herself in her corner with the instinctive feeling +for effect which never forsook her, she glanced about in the hope +of seeing some other member of the Trenors’ party. She wanted to +get away from herself, and conversation was the only means of +escape that she knew. + +Her search was rewarded by the discovery of a very blond young man +with a soft reddish beard, who, at the other end of the carriage, +appeared to be dissembling himself behind an unfolded newspaper. +Lily’s eye brightened, and a faint smile relaxed the drawn lines +of her mouth. She had known that Mr. Percy Gryce was to be at +Bellomont, but she had not counted on the luck of having him to +herself in the train; and the fact banished all perturbing thoughts +of Mr. Rosedale. Perhaps, after all, the day was to end more +favourably than it had begun. + +She began to cut the pages of a novel, tranquilly studying her +prey through downcast lashes while she organized a method of +attack. Something in his attitude of conscious absorption told +her that he was aware of her presence: no one had ever been quite +so engrossed in an evening paper! She guessed that he was too shy +to come up to her, and that she would have to devise some means +of approach which should not appear to be an advance on her part. +It amused her to think that any one as rich as Mr. Percy Gryce +should be shy; but she was gifted with treasures of indulgence for +such idiosyncrasies, and besides, his timidity might serve her +purpose better than too much assurance. She had the art of giving +self-confidence to the embarrassed, but she was not equally sure of +being able to embarrass the self-confident. + +She waited till the train had emerged from the tunnel and was +racing between the ragged edges of the northern suburbs. Then, +as it lowered its speed near Yonkers, she rose from her seat and +drifted slowly down the carriage. As she passed Mr. Gryce, the +train gave a lurch, and he was aware of a slender hand gripping the +back of his chair. He rose with a start, his ingenuous face looking +as though it had been dipped in crimson: even the reddish tint in +his beard seemed to deepen. The train swayed again, almost flinging +Miss Bart into his arms. + +She steadied herself with a laugh and drew back; but he was +enveloped in the scent of her dress, and his shoulder had felt her +fugitive touch. + +“Oh, Mr. Gryce, is it you? I’m so sorry—I was trying to find the +porter and get some tea.” + +She held out her hand as the train resumed its level rush, and they +stood exchanging a few words in the aisle. Yes—he was going to +Bellomont. He had heard she was to be of the party—he blushed again +as he admitted it. And was he to be there for a whole week? How +delightful! + +But at this point one or two belated passengers from the last +station forced their way into the carriage, and Lily had to retreat +to her seat. + +“The chair next to mine is empty—do take it,” she said over her +shoulder; and Mr. Gryce, with considerable embarrassment, succeeded +in effecting an exchange which enabled him to transport himself and +his bags to her side. + +“Ah—and here is the porter, and perhaps we can have some tea.” + +She signalled to that official, and in a moment, with the ease that +seemed to attend the fulfilment of all her wishes, a little table +had been set up between the seats, and she had helped Mr. Gryce to +bestow his encumbering properties beneath it. + +When the tea came he watched her in silent fascination while +her hands flitted above the tray, looking miraculously fine and +slender in contrast to the coarse china and lumpy bread. It seemed +wonderful to him that any one should perform with such careless +ease the difficult task of making tea in public in a lurching +train. He would never have dared to order it for himself, lest he +should attract the notice of his fellow-passengers; but, secure in +the shelter of her conspicuousness, he sipped the inky draught with +a delicious sense of exhilaration. + +Lily, with the flavour of Selden’s caravan tea on her lips, had +no great fancy to drown it in the railway brew which seemed such +nectar to her companion; but, rightly judging that one of the +charms of tea is the fact of drinking it together, she proceeded +to give the last touch to Mr. Gryce’s enjoyment by smiling at him +across her lifted cup. + +“Is it quite right—I haven’t made it too strong?” she asked +solicitously; and he replied with conviction that he had never +tasted better tea. + +“I daresay it is true,” she reflected; and her imagination was +fired by the thought that Mr. Gryce, who might have sounded the +depths of the most complex self-indulgence, was perhaps actually +taking his first journey alone with a pretty woman. + +It struck her as providential that she should be the instrument +of his initiation. Some girls would not have known how to +manage him. They would have over-emphasized the novelty of the +adventure, trying to make him feel in it the zest of an escapade. +But Lily’s methods were more delicate. She remembered that her +cousin Jack Stepney had once defined Mr. Gryce as the young man +who had promised his mother never to go out in the rain without +his overshoes; and acting on this hint, she resolved to impart a +gently domestic air to the scene, in the hope that her companion, +instead of feeling that he was doing something reckless or unusual, +would merely be led to dwell on the advantage of always having a +companion to make one’s tea in the train. + +But in spite of her efforts, conversation flagged after the tray +had been removed, and she was driven to take a fresh measurement +of Mr. Gryce’s limitations. It was not, after all, opportunity but +imagination that he lacked: he had a mental palate which would +never learn to distinguish between railway tea and nectar. There +was, however, one topic she could rely on: one spring that she +had only to touch to set his simple machinery in motion. She had +refrained from touching it because it was a last resource, and she +had relied on other arts to stimulate other sensations; but as a +settled look of dulness began to creep over his candid features, +she saw that extreme measures were necessary. + +“And how,” she said, leaning forward, “are you getting on with your +Americana?” + +His eye became a degree less opaque: it was as though an incipient +film had been removed from it, and she felt the pride of a skilful +operator. + +“I’ve got a few new things,” he said, suffused with pleasure, but +lowering his voice as though he feared his fellow-passengers might +be in league to despoil him. + +She returned a sympathetic enquiry, and gradually he was drawn +on to talk of his latest purchases. It was the one subject which +enabled him to forget himself, or allowed him, rather, to remember +himself without constraint, because he was at home in it, and could +assert a superiority that there were few to dispute. Hardly any of +his acquaintances cared for Americana, or knew anything about them; +and the consciousness of this ignorance threw Mr. Gryce’s knowledge +into agreeable relief. The only difficulty was to introduce the +topic and to keep it to the front; most people showed no desire to +have their ignorance dispelled, and Mr. Gryce was like a merchant +whose warehouses are crammed with an unmarketable commodity. + +But Miss Bart, it appeared, really did want to know about +Americana; and moreover, she was already sufficiently informed to +make the task of farther instruction as easy as it was agreeable. +She questioned him intelligently, she heard him submissively; and, +prepared for the look of lassitude which usually crept over his +listeners’ faces, he grew eloquent under her receptive gaze. The +“points” she had had the presence of mind to glean from Selden, in +anticipation of this very contingency, were serving her to such +good purpose that she began to think her visit to him had been the +luckiest incident of the day. She had once more shown her talent +for profiting by the unexpected, and dangerous theories as to the +advisability of yielding to impulse were germinating under the +surface of smiling attention which she continued to present to her +companion. + +Mr. Gryce’s sensations, if less definite, were equally agreeable. +He felt the confused titillation with which the lower organisms +welcome the gratification of their needs, and all his senses +floundered in a vague well-being, through which Miss Bart’s +personality was dimly but pleasantly perceptible. + +Mr. Gryce’s interest in Americana had not originated with himself: +it was impossible to think of him as evolving any taste of his +own. An uncle had left him a collection already noted among +bibliophiles; the existence of the collection was the only fact +that had ever shed glory on the name of Gryce, and the nephew took +as much pride in his inheritance as though it had been his own +work. Indeed, he gradually came to regard it as such, and to feel a +sense of personal complacency when he chanced on any reference to +the Gryce Americana. Anxious as he was to avoid personal notice, he +took, in the printed mention of his name, a pleasure so exquisite +and excessive that it seemed a compensation for his shrinking from +publicity. + +To enjoy the sensation as often as possible, he subscribed to all +the reviews dealing with book-collecting in general, and American +history in particular, and as allusions to his library abounded +in the pages of these journals, which formed his only reading, he +came to regard himself as figuring prominently in the public eye, +and to enjoy the thought of the interest which would be excited +if the persons he met in the street, or sat among in travelling, +were suddenly to be told that he was the possessor of the Gryce +Americana. + +Most timidities have such secret compensations, and Miss Bart was +discerning enough to know that the inner vanity is generally in +proportion to the outer self-depreciation. With a more confident +person she would not have dared to dwell so long on one topic, +or to show such exaggerated interest in it; but she had rightly +guessed that Mr. Gryce’s egoism was a thirsty soil, requiring +constant nurture from without. Miss Bart had the gift of following +an undercurrent of thought while she appeared to be sailing on the +surface of conversation; and in this case her mental excursion +took the form of a rapid survey of Mr. Percy Gryce’s future as +combined with her own. The Gryces were from Albany, and but lately +introduced to the metropolis, where the mother and son had come, +after old Jefferson Gryce’s death, to take possession of his house +in Madison Avenue—an appalling house, all brown stone without and +black walnut within, with the Gryce library in a fire-proof annex +that looked like a mausoleum. Lily, however, knew all about them: +young Mr. Gryce’s arrival had fluttered the maternal breasts of +New York, and when a girl has no mother to palpitate for her she +must needs be on the alert for herself. Lily, therefore, had not +only contrived to put herself in the young man’s way, but had made +the acquaintance of Mrs. Gryce, a monumental woman with the voice +of a pulpit orator and a mind preoccupied with the iniquities of +her servants, who came sometimes to sit with Mrs. Peniston and +learn from that lady how she managed to prevent the kitchen-maid’s +smuggling groceries out of the house. Mrs. Gryce had a kind of +impersonal benevolence: cases of individual need she regarded +with suspicion, but she subscribed to Institutions when their +annual reports showed an impressive surplus. Her domestic duties +were manifold, for they extended from furtive inspections of the +servants’ bedrooms to unannounced descents to the cellar; but she +had never allowed herself many pleasures. Once, however, she had +had a special edition of the Sarum Rule printed in rubric and +presented to every clergyman in the diocese; and the gilt album in +which their letters of thanks were pasted formed the chief ornament +of her drawing-room table. + +Percy had been brought up in the principles which so excellent a +woman was sure to inculcate. Every form of prudence and suspicion +had been grafted on a nature originally reluctant and cautious, +with the result that it would have seemed hardly needful for Mrs. +Gryce to extract his promise about the overshoes, so little likely +was he to hazard himself abroad in the rain. After attaining his +majority, and coming into the fortune which the late Mr. Gryce had +made out of a patent device for excluding fresh air from hotels, +the young man continued to live with his mother in Albany; but +on Jefferson Gryce’s death, when another large property passed +into her son’s hands, Mrs. Gryce thought that what she called his +“interests” demanded his presence in New York. She accordingly +installed herself in the Madison Avenue house, and Percy, whose +sense of duty was not inferior to his mother’s, spent all his week +days in the handsome Broad Street office where a batch of pale men +on small salaries had grown grey in the management of the Gryce +estate, and where he was initiated with becoming reverence into +every detail of the art of accumulation. + +As far as Lily could learn, this had hitherto been Mr. Gryce’s only +occupation, and she might have been pardoned for thinking it not +too hard a task to interest a young man who had been kept on such +low diet. At any rate, she felt herself so completely in command of +the situation that she yielded to a sense of security in which all +fear of Mr. Rosedale, and of the difficulties on which that fear +was contingent, vanished beyond the edge of thought. + +The stopping of the train at Garrisons would not have distracted +her from these thoughts, had she not caught a sudden look of +distress in her companion’s eye. His seat faced toward the door, +and she guessed that he had been perturbed by the approach of an +acquaintance; a fact confirmed by the turning of heads and general +sense of commotion which her own entrance into a railway-carriage +was apt to produce. + +She knew the symptoms at once, and was not surprised to be hailed +by the high notes of a pretty woman, who entered the train +accompanied by a maid, a bull-terrier, and a footman staggering +under a load of bags and dressing-cases. + +“Oh, Lily—are you going to Bellomont? Then you can’t let me +have your seat, I suppose? But I MUST have a seat in this +carriage—porter, you must find me a place at once. Can’t some one +be put somewhere else? I want to be with my friends. Oh, how do you +do, Mr. Gryce? Do please make him understand that I must have a +seat next to you and Lily.” + +Mrs. George Dorset, regardless of the mild efforts of a traveller +with a carpet-bag, who was doing his best to make room for her +by getting out of the train, stood in the middle of the aisle, +diffusing about her that general sense of exasperation which a +pretty woman on her travels not infrequently creates. + +She was smaller and thinner than Lily Bart, with a restless +pliability of pose, as if she could have been crumpled up and run +through a ring, like the sinuous draperies she affected. Her small +pale face seemed the mere setting of a pair of dark exaggerated +eyes, of which the visionary gaze contrasted curiously with her +self-assertive tone and gestures; so that, as one of her friends +observed, she was like a disembodied spirit who took up a great +deal of room. + +Having finally discovered that the seat adjoining Miss Bart’s +was at her disposal, she possessed herself of it with a farther +displacement of her surroundings, explaining meanwhile that she had +come across from Mount Kisco in her motor-car that morning, and had +been kicking her heels for an hour at Garrisons, without even the +alleviation of a cigarette, her brute of a husband having neglected +to replenish her case before they parted that morning. + +“And at this hour of the day I don’t suppose you’ve a single one +left, have you, Lily?” she plaintively concluded. + +Miss Bart caught the startled glance of Mr. Percy Gryce, whose own +lips were never defiled by tobacco. + +“What an absurd question, Bertha!” she exclaimed, blushing at the +thought of the store she had laid in at Lawrence Selden’s. + +“Why, don’t you smoke? Since when have you given it up? What—you +never—— And you don’t either, Mr. Gryce? Ah, of course—how stupid +of me—I understand.” + +And Mrs. Dorset leaned back against her travelling cushions with a +smile which made Lily wish there had been no vacant seat beside her +own. + + + + +Chapter 3 + + +Bridge at Bellomont usually lasted till the small hours; and when +Lily went to bed that night she had played too long for her own +good. + +Feeling no desire for the self-communion which awaited her in her +room, she lingered on the broad stairway, looking down into the +hall below, where the last card-players were grouped about the tray +of tall glasses and silver-collared decanters which the butler had +just placed on a low table near the fire. + +The hall was arcaded, with a gallery supported on columns of +pale yellow marble. Tall clumps of flowering plants were grouped +against a background of dark foliage in the angles of the walls. +On the crimson carpet a deer-hound and two or three spaniels dozed +luxuriously before the fire, and the light from the great central +lantern overhead shed a brightness on the women’s hair and struck +sparks from their jewels as they moved. + +There were moments when such scenes delighted Lily, when they +gratified her sense of beauty and her craving for the external +finish of life; there were others when they gave a sharper edge +to the meagreness of her own opportunities. This was one of the +moments when the sense of contrast was uppermost, and she turned +away impatiently as Mrs. George Dorset, glittering in serpentine +spangles, drew Percy Gryce in her wake to a confidential nook +beneath the gallery. + +It was not that Miss Bart was afraid of losing her newly-acquired +hold over Mr. Gryce. Mrs. Dorset might startle or dazzle him, +but she had neither the skill nor the patience to effect his +capture. She was too self-engrossed to penetrate the recesses of +his shyness, and besides, why should she care to give herself the +trouble? At most it might amuse her to make sport of his simplicity +for an evening—after that he would be merely a burden to her, and +knowing this, she was far too experienced to encourage him. But +the mere thought of that other woman, who could take a man up and +toss him aside as she willed, without having to regard him as a +possible factor in her plans, filled Lily Bart with envy. She had +been bored all the afternoon by Percy Gryce—the mere thought seemed +to waken an echo of his droning voice—but she could not ignore him +on the morrow, she must follow up her success, must submit to more +boredom, must be ready with fresh compliances and adaptabilities, +and all on the bare chance that he might ultimately decide to do +her the honour of boring her for life. + +It was a hateful fate—but how escape from it? What choice had she? +To be herself, or a Gerty Farish. As she entered her bedroom, with +its softly-shaded lights, her lace dressing-gown lying across +the silken bedspread, her little embroidered slippers before the +fire, a vase of carnations filling the air with perfume, and +the last novels and magazines lying uncut on a table beside the +reading-lamp, she had a vision of Miss Farish’s cramped flat, with +its cheap conveniences and hideous wall-papers. No; she was not +made for mean and shabby surroundings, for the squalid compromises +of poverty. Her whole being dilated in an atmosphere of luxury; it +was the background she required, the only climate she could breathe +in. But the luxury of others was not what she wanted. A few years +ago it had sufficed her: she had taken her daily meed of pleasure +without caring who provided it. Now she was beginning to chafe at +the obligations it imposed, to feel herself a mere pensioner on the +splendour which had once seemed to belong to her. There were even +moments when she was conscious of having to pay her way. + +For a long time she had refused to play bridge. She knew she could +not afford it, and she was afraid of acquiring so expensive a +taste. She had seen the danger exemplified in more than one of her +associates—in young Ned Silverton, for instance, the charming fair +boy now seated in abject rapture at the elbow of Mrs. Fisher, a +striking divorcee with eyes and gowns as emphatic as the head-lines +of her “case.” Lily could remember when young Silverton had +stumbled into their circle, with the air of a strayed Arcadian +who has published charming sonnets in his college journal. Since +then he had developed a taste for Mrs. Fisher and bridge, and the +latter at least had involved him in expenses from which he had been +more than once rescued by harassed maiden sisters, who treasured +the sonnets, and went without sugar in their tea to keep their +darling afloat. Ned’s case was familiar to Lily: she had seen his +charming eyes—which had a good deal more poetry in them than the +sonnets—change from surprise to amusement, and from amusement +to anxiety, as he passed under the spell of the terrible god of +chance; and she was afraid of discovering the same symptoms in her +own case. + +For in the last year she had found that her hostesses expected her +to take a place at the card-table. It was one of the taxes she +had to pay for their prolonged hospitality, and for the dresses +and trinkets which occasionally replenished her insufficient +wardrobe. And since she had played regularly the passion had grown +on her. Once or twice of late she had won a large sum, and instead +of keeping it against future losses, had spent it in dress or +jewelry; and the desire to atone for this imprudence, combined +with the increasing exhilaration of the game, drove her to risk +higher stakes at each fresh venture. She tried to excuse herself +on the plea that, in the Trenor set, if one played at all one must +either play high or be set down as priggish or stingy; but she knew +that the gambling passion was upon her, and that in her present +surroundings there was small hope of resisting it. + +Tonight the luck had been persistently bad, and the little gold +purse which hung among her trinkets was almost empty when she +returned to her room. She unlocked the wardrobe, and taking out her +jewel-case, looked under the tray for the roll of bills from which +she had replenished the purse before going down to dinner. Only +twenty dollars were left: the discovery was so startling that for a +moment she fancied she must have been robbed. Then she took paper +and pencil, and seating herself at the writing-table, tried to +reckon up what she had spent during the day. Her head was throbbing +with fatigue, and she had to go over the figures again and again; +but at last it became clear to her that she had lost three hundred +dollars at cards. She took out her cheque-book to see if her +balance was larger than she remembered, but found she had erred +in the other direction. Then she returned to her calculations; +but figure as she would, she could not conjure back the vanished +three hundred dollars. It was the sum she had set aside to pacify +her dress-maker—unless she should decide to use it as a sop to the +jeweller. At any rate, she had so many uses for it that its very +insufficiency had caused her to play high in the hope of doubling +it. But of course she had lost—she who needed every penny, while +Bertha Dorset, whose husband showered money on her, must have +pocketed at least five hundred, and Judy Trenor, who could have +afforded to lose a thousand a night, had left the table clutching +such a heap of bills that she had been unable to shake hands with +her guests when they bade her good night. + +A world in which such things could be seemed a miserable place +to Lily Bart; but then she had never been able to understand the +laws of a universe which was so ready to leave her out of its +calculations. + +She began to undress without ringing for her maid, whom she had +sent to bed. She had been long enough in bondage to other people’s +pleasure to be considerate of those who depended on hers, and in +her bitter moods it sometimes struck her that she and her maid were +in the same position, except that the latter received her wages +more regularly. + +As she sat before the mirror brushing her hair, her face looked +hollow and pale, and she was frightened by two little lines near +her mouth, faint flaws in the smooth curve of the cheek. + +“Oh, I must stop worrying!” she exclaimed. “Unless it’s the +electric light——” she reflected, springing up from her seat and +lighting the candles on the dressing-table. + +She turned out the wall-lights, and peered at herself between the +candle-flames. The white oval of her face swam out waveringly from +a background of shadows, the uncertain light blurring it like a +haze; but the two lines about the mouth remained. + +Lily rose and undressed in haste. + +“It is only because I am tired and have such odious things to think +about,” she kept repeating; and it seemed an added injustice that +petty cares should leave a trace on the beauty which was her only +defence against them. + +But the odious things were there, and remained with her. She +returned wearily to the thought of Percy Gryce, as a wayfarer picks +up a heavy load and toils on after a brief rest. She was almost +sure she had “landed” him: a few days’ work and she would win her +reward. But the reward itself seemed unpalatable just then: she +could get no zest from the thought of victory. It would be a rest +from worry, no more—and how little that would have seemed to her +a few years earlier! Her ambitions had shrunk gradually in the +desiccating air of failure. But why had she failed? Was it her own +fault or that of destiny? + +She remembered how her mother, after they had lost their money, used +to say to her with a kind of fierce vindictiveness: “But you’ll get +it all back—you’ll get it all back, with your face.”... The +remembrance roused a whole train of association, and she lay in the +darkness reconstructing the past out of which her present had grown. + +A house in which no one ever dined at home unless there was +“company”; a door-bell perpetually ringing; a hall-table showered +with square envelopes which were opened in haste, and oblong +envelopes which were allowed to gather dust in the depths of a +bronze jar; a series of French and English maids giving warning +amid a chaos of hurriedly-ransacked wardrobes and dress-closets; +an equally changing dynasty of nurses and footmen; quarrels in the +pantry, the kitchen and the drawing-room; precipitate trips to +Europe, and returns with gorged trunks and days of interminable +unpacking; semi-annual discussions as to where the summer should +be spent, grey interludes of economy and brilliant reactions of +expense—such was the setting of Lily Bart’s first memories. + +Ruling the turbulent element called home was the vigorous and +determined figure of a mother still young enough to dance her +ball-dresses to rags, while the hazy outline of a neutral-tinted +father filled an intermediate space between the butler and the man +who came to wind the clocks. Even to the eyes of infancy, Mrs. +Hudson Bart had appeared young; but Lily could not recall the time +when her father had not been bald and slightly stooping, with +streaks of grey in his hair, and a tired walk. It was a shock to +her to learn afterward that he was but two years older than her +mother. + +Lily seldom saw her father by daylight. All day he was “downtown”; +and in winter it was long after nightfall when she heard his fagged +step on the stairs and his hand on the school-room door. He would +kiss her in silence, and ask one or two questions of the nurse or +the governess; then Mrs. Bart’s maid would come to remind him that +he was dining out, and he would hurry away with a nod to Lily. In +summer, when he joined them for a Sunday at Newport or Southampton, +he was even more effaced and silent than in winter. It seemed +to tire him to rest, and he would sit for hours staring at the +sea-line from a quiet corner of the verandah, while the clatter of +his wife’s existence went on unheeded a few feet off. Generally, +however, Mrs. Bart and Lily went to Europe for the summer, and +before the steamer was half way over Mr. Bart had dipped below the +horizon. Sometimes his daughter heard him denounced for having +neglected to forward Mrs. Bart’s remittances; but for the most part +he was never mentioned or thought of till his patient stooping +figure presented itself on the New York dock as a buffer between +the magnitude of his wife’s luggage and the restrictions of the +American custom-house. + +In this desultory yet agitated fashion life went on through Lily’s +teens: a zig-zag broken course down which the family craft glided +on a rapid current of amusement, tugged at by the underflow of +a perpetual need—the need of more money. Lily could not recall +the time when there had been money enough, and in some vague way +her father seemed always to blame for the deficiency. It could +certainly not be the fault of Mrs. Bart, who was spoken of by her +friends as a “wonderful manager.” Mrs. Bart was famous for the +unlimited effect she produced on limited means; and to the lady and +her acquaintances there was something heroic in living as though +one were much richer than one’s bank-book denoted. + +Lily was naturally proud of her mother’s aptitude in this line: she +had been brought up in the faith that, whatever it cost, one must +have a good cook, and be what Mrs. Bart called “decently dressed.” +Mrs. Bart’s worst reproach to her husband was to ask him if he +expected her to “live like a pig”; and his replying in the negative +was always regarded as a justification for cabling to Paris for an +extra dress or two, and telephoning to the jeweller that he might, +after all, send home the turquoise bracelet which Mrs. Bart had +looked at that morning. + +Lily knew people who “lived like pigs,” and their appearance and +surroundings justified her mother’s repugnance to that form of +existence. They were mostly cousins, who inhabited dingy houses +with engravings from Cole’s Voyage of Life on the drawing-room +walls, and slatternly parlour-maids who said “I’ll go and see” +to visitors calling at an hour when all right-minded persons are +conventionally if not actually out. The disgusting part of it was +that many of these cousins were rich, so that Lily imbibed the idea +that if people lived like pigs it was from choice, and through the +lack of any proper standard of conduct. This gave her a sense of +reflected superiority, and she did not need Mrs. Bart’s comments on +the family frumps and misers to foster her naturally lively taste +for splendour. + +Lily was nineteen when circumstances caused her to revise her view +of the universe. + +The previous year she had made a dazzling debut fringed by a heavy +thunder-cloud of bills. The light of the debut still lingered on +the horizon, but the cloud had thickened; and suddenly it broke. +The suddenness added to the horror; and there were still times +when Lily relived with painful vividness every detail of the day +on which the blow fell. She and her mother had been seated at the +luncheon-table, over the CHAUFROIX and cold salmon of the previous +night’s dinner: it was one of Mrs. Bart’s few economies to consume +in private the expensive remnants of her hospitality. Lily was +feeling the pleasant languor which is youth’s penalty for dancing +till dawn; but her mother, in spite of a few lines about the mouth, +and under the yellow waves on her temples, was as alert, determined +and high in colour as if she had risen from an untroubled sleep. + +In the centre of the table, between the melting MARRONS GLACES +and candied cherries, a pyramid of American Beauties lifted their +vigorous stems; they held their heads as high as Mrs. Bart, but +their rose-colour had turned to a dissipated purple, and Lily’s +sense of fitness was disturbed by their reappearance on the +luncheon-table. + +“I really think, mother,” she said reproachfully, “we might +afford a few fresh flowers for luncheon. Just some jonquils or +lilies-of-the-valley—” + +Mrs. Bart stared. Her own fastidiousness had its eye fixed on the +world, and she did not care how the luncheon-table looked when +there was no one present at it but the family. But she smiled at +her daughter’s innocence. + +“Lilies-of-the-valley,” she said calmly, “cost two dollars a dozen +at this season.” + +Lily was not impressed. She knew very little of the value of money. + +“It would not take more than six dozen to fill that bowl,” she +argued. + +“Six dozen what?” asked her father’s voice in the doorway. + +The two women looked up in surprise; though it was a Saturday, the +sight of Mr. Bart at luncheon was an unwonted one. But neither +his wife nor his daughter was sufficiently interested to ask an +explanation. + +Mr. Bart dropped into a chair, and sat gazing absently at the +fragment of jellied salmon which the butler had placed before him. + +“I was only saying,” Lily began, “that I hate to see faded flowers +at luncheon; and mother says a bunch of lilies-of-the-valley would +not cost more than twelve dollars. Mayn’t I tell the florist to +send a few every day?” + +She leaned confidently toward her father: he seldom refused her +anything, and Mrs. Bart had taught her to plead with him when her +own entreaties failed. + +Mr. Bart sat motionless, his gaze still fixed on the salmon, and +his lower jaw dropped; he looked even paler than usual, and his +thin hair lay in untidy streaks on his forehead. Suddenly he looked +at his daughter and laughed. The laugh was so strange that Lily +coloured under it: she disliked being ridiculed, and her father +seemed to see something ridiculous in the request. Perhaps he +thought it foolish that she should trouble him about such a trifle. + +“Twelve dollars—twelve dollars a day for flowers? Oh, certainly, my +dear—give him an order for twelve hundred.” He continued to laugh. + +Mrs. Bart gave him a quick glance. + +“You needn’t wait, Poleworth—I will ring for you,” she said to the +butler. + +The butler withdrew with an air of silent disapproval, leaving the +remains of the CHAUFROIX on the sideboard. + +“What is the matter, Hudson? Are you ill?” said Mrs. Bart severely. + +She had no tolerance for scenes which were not of her own making, +and it was odious to her that her husband should make a show of +himself before the servants. + +“Are you ill?” she repeated. + +“Ill?—— No, I’m ruined,” he said. + +Lily made a frightened sound, and Mrs. Bart rose to her feet. + +“Ruined——?” she cried; but controlling herself instantly, she +turned a calm face to Lily. + +“Shut the pantry door,” she said. + +Lily obeyed, and when she turned back into the room her father was +sitting with both elbows on the table, the plate of salmon between +them, and his head bowed on his hands. + +Mrs. Bart stood over him with a white face which made her hair +unnaturally yellow. She looked at Lily as the latter approached: +her look was terrible, but her voice was modulated to a ghastly +cheerfulness. + +“Your father is not well—he doesn’t know what he is saying. It +is nothing—but you had better go upstairs; and don’t talk to the +servants,” she added. + +Lily obeyed; she always obeyed when her mother spoke in that +voice. She had not been deceived by Mrs. Bart’s words: she knew +at once that they were ruined. In the dark hours which followed, +that awful fact overshadowed even her father’s slow and difficult +dying. To his wife he no longer counted: he had become extinct +when he ceased to fulfil his purpose, and she sat at his side +with the provisional air of a traveller who waits for a belated +train to start. Lily’s feelings were softer: she pitied him in a +frightened ineffectual way. But the fact that he was for the most +part unconscious, and that his attention, when she stole into the +room, drifted away from her after a moment, made him even more of a +stranger than in the nursery days when he had never come home till +after dark. She seemed always to have seen him through a blur—first +of sleepiness, then of distance and indifference—and now the fog +had thickened till he was almost indistinguishable. If she could +have performed any little services for him, or have exchanged with +him a few of those affecting words which an extensive perusal of +fiction had led her to connect with such occasions, the filial +instinct might have stirred in her; but her pity, finding no active +expression, remained in a state of spectatorship, overshadowed by +her mother’s grim unflagging resentment. Every look and act of Mrs. +Bart’s seemed to say: “You are sorry for him now—but you will feel +differently when you see what he has done to us.” + +It was a relief to Lily when her father died. + +Then a long winter set in. There was a little money left, but to +Mrs. Bart it seemed worse than nothing—the mere mockery of what +she was entitled to. What was the use of living if one had to live +like a pig? She sank into a kind of furious apathy, a state of +inert anger against fate. Her faculty for “managing” deserted her, +or she no longer took sufficient pride in it to exert it. It was +well enough to “manage” when by so doing one could keep one’s own +carriage; but when one’s best contrivance did not conceal the fact +that one had to go on foot, the effort was no longer worth making. + +Lily and her mother wandered from place to place, now paying long +visits to relations whose house-keeping Mrs. Bart criticized, and +who deplored the fact that she let Lily breakfast in bed when the +girl had no prospects before her, and now vegetating in cheap +continental refuges, where Mrs. Bart held herself fiercely aloof +from the frugal tea-tables of her companions in misfortune. She was +especially careful to avoid her old friends and the scenes of her +former successes. To be poor seemed to her such a confession of +failure that it amounted to disgrace; and she detected a note of +condescension in the friendliest advances. + +Only one thought consoled her, and that was the contemplation of +Lily’s beauty. She studied it with a kind of passion, as though +it were some weapon she had slowly fashioned for her vengeance. +It was the last asset in their fortunes, the nucleus around which +their life was to be rebuilt. She watched it jealously, as though +it were her own property and Lily its mere custodian; and she +tried to instil into the latter a sense of the responsibility that +such a charge involved. She followed in imagination the career +of other beauties, pointing out to her daughter what might be +achieved through such a gift, and dwelling on the awful warning of +those who, in spite of it, had failed to get what they wanted: to +Mrs. Bart, only stupidity could explain the lamentable denouement +of some of her examples. She was not above the inconsistency of +charging fate, rather than herself, with her own misfortunes; but +she inveighed so acrimoniously against love-matches that Lily would +have fancied her own marriage had been of that nature, had not Mrs. +Bart frequently assured her that she had been “talked into it”—by +whom, she never made clear. + +Lily was duly impressed by the magnitude of her opportunities. The +dinginess of her present life threw into enchanting relief the +existence to which she felt herself entitled. To a less illuminated +intelligence Mrs. Bart’s counsels might have been dangerous; but +Lily understood that beauty is only the raw material of conquest, +and that to convert it into success other arts are required. She +knew that to betray any sense of superiority was a subtler form of +the stupidity her mother denounced, and it did not take her long +to learn that a beauty needs more tact than the possessor of an +average set of features. + +Her ambitions were not as crude as Mrs. Bart’s. It had been among +that lady’s grievances that her husband—in the early days, before +he was too tired—had wasted his evenings in what she vaguely +described as “reading poetry”; and among the effects packed off to +auction after his death were a score or two of dingy volumes which +had struggled for existence among the boots and medicine bottles of +his dressing-room shelves. There was in Lily a vein of sentiment, +perhaps transmitted from this source, which gave an idealizing +touch to her most prosaic purposes. She liked to think of her +beauty as a power for good, as giving her the opportunity to attain +a position where she should make her influence felt in the vague +diffusion of refinement and good taste. She was fond of pictures +and flowers, and of sentimental fiction, and she could not help +thinking that the possession of such tastes ennobled her desire for +worldly advantages. She would not indeed have cared to marry a man +who was merely rich: she was secretly ashamed of her mother’s crude +passion for money. Lily’s preference would have been for an English +nobleman with political ambitions and vast estates; or, for second +choice, an Italian prince with a castle in the Apennines and an +hereditary office in the Vatican. Lost causes had a romantic charm +for her, and she liked to picture herself as standing aloof from +the vulgar press of the Quirinal, and sacrificing her pleasure to +the claims of an immemorial tradition.... + +How long ago and how far off it all seemed! Those ambitions were +hardly more futile and childish than the earlier ones which had +centred about the possession of a French jointed doll with real +hair. Was it only ten years since she had wavered in imagination +between the English earl and the Italian prince? Relentlessly her +mind travelled on over the dreary interval.... + +After two years of hungry roaming Mrs. Bart had died——died of a +deep disgust. She had hated dinginess, and it was her fate to be +dingy. Her visions of a brilliant marriage for Lily had faded after +the first year. + +“People can’t marry you if they don’t see you—and how can they see +you in these holes where we’re stuck?” That was the burden of her +lament; and her last adjuration to her daughter was to escape from +dinginess if she could. + +“Don’t let it creep up on you and drag you down. Fight your way out +of it somehow—you’re young and can do it,” she insisted. + +She had died during one of their brief visits to New York, and +there Lily at once became the centre of a family council composed +of the wealthy relatives whom she had been taught to despise +for living like pigs. It may be that they had an inkling of the +sentiments in which she had been brought up, for none of them +manifested a very lively desire for her company; indeed, the +question threatened to remain unsolved till Mrs. Peniston with a +sigh announced: “I’ll try her for a year.” + +Every one was surprised, but one and all concealed their surprise, +lest Mrs. Peniston should be alarmed by it into reconsidering her +decision. + +Mrs. Peniston was Mr. Bart’s widowed sister, and if she was by +no means the richest of the family group, its other members +nevertheless abounded in reasons why she was clearly destined by +Providence to assume the charge of Lily. In the first place she was +alone, and it would be charming for her to have a young companion. +Then she sometimes travelled, and Lily’s familiarity with foreign +customs—deplored as a misfortune by her more conservative +relatives—would at least enable her to act as a kind of courier. +But as a matter of fact Mrs. Peniston had not been affected by +these considerations. She had taken the girl simply because no one +else would have her, and because she had the kind of moral MAUVAISE +HONTE which makes the public display of selfishness difficult, +though it does not interfere with its private indulgence. It would +have been impossible for Mrs. Peniston to be heroic on a desert +island, but with the eyes of her little world upon her she took a +certain pleasure in her act. + +She reaped the reward to which disinterestedness is entitled, +and found an agreeable companion in her niece. She had expected +to find Lily headstrong, critical and “foreign”—for even Mrs. +Peniston, though she occasionally went abroad, had the family dread +of foreignness—but the girl showed a pliancy, which, to a more +penetrating mind than her aunt’s, might have been less reassuring +than the open selfishness of youth. Misfortune had made Lily supple +instead of hardening her, and a pliable substance is less easy to +break than a stiff one. + +Mrs. Peniston, however, did not suffer from her niece’s +adaptability. Lily had no intention of taking advantage of her +aunt’s good-nature. She was in truth grateful for the refuge +offered her: Mrs. Peniston’s opulent interior was at least not +externally dingy. But dinginess is a quality which assumes all +manner of disguises; and Lily soon found that it was as latent +in the expensive routine of her aunt’s life as in the makeshift +existence of a continental pension. + +Mrs. Peniston was one of the episodical persons who form the +padding of life. It was impossible to believe that she had herself +ever been a focus of activities. The most vivid thing about her +was the fact that her grandmother had been a Van Alstyne. This +connection with the well-fed and industrious stock of early New +York revealed itself in the glacial neatness of Mrs. Peniston’s +drawing-room and in the excellence of her cuisine. She belonged +to the class of old New Yorkers who have always lived well, +dressed expensively, and done little else; and to these inherited +obligations Mrs. Peniston faithfully conformed. She had always +been a looker-on at life, and her mind resembled one of those +little mirrors which her Dutch ancestors were accustomed to affix +to their upper windows, so that from the depths of an impenetrable +domesticity they might see what was happening in the street. + +Mrs. Peniston was the owner of a country-place in New Jersey, +but she had never lived there since her husband’s death—a remote +event, which appeared to dwell in her memory chiefly as a dividing +point in the personal reminiscences that formed the staple of her +conversation. She was a woman who remembered dates with intensity, +and could tell at a moment’s notice whether the drawing-room +curtains had been renewed before or after Mr. Peniston’s last +illness. + +Mrs. Peniston thought the country lonely and trees damp, and +cherished a vague fear of meeting a bull. To guard against such +contingencies she frequented the more populous watering-places, +where she installed herself impersonally in a hired house and +looked on at life through the matting screen of her verandah. In +the care of such a guardian, it soon became clear to Lily that +she was to enjoy only the material advantages of good food and +expensive clothing; and, though far from underrating these, she +would gladly have exchanged them for what Mrs. Bart had taught her +to regard as opportunities. She sighed to think what her mother’s +fierce energies would have accomplished, had they been coupled +with Mrs. Peniston’s resources. Lily had abundant energy of her +own, but it was restricted by the necessity of adapting herself to +her aunt’s habits. She saw that at all costs she must keep Mrs. +Peniston’s favour till, as Mrs. Bart would have phrased it, she +could stand on her own legs. Lily had no mind for the vagabond life +of the poor relation, and to adapt herself to Mrs. Peniston she +had, to some degree, to assume that lady’s passive attitude. She +had fancied at first that it would be easy to draw her aunt into +the whirl of her own activities, but there was a static force in +Mrs. Peniston against which her niece’s efforts spent themselves +in vain. To attempt to bring her into active relation with life +was like tugging at a piece of furniture which has been screwed +to the floor. She did not, indeed, expect Lily to remain equally +immovable: she had all the American guardian’s indulgence for the +volatility of youth. + +She had indulgence also for certain other habits of her niece’s. +It seemed to her natural that Lily should spend all her money on +dress, and she supplemented the girl’s scanty income by occasional +“handsome presents” meant to be applied to the same purpose. +Lily, who was intensely practical, would have preferred a fixed +allowance; but Mrs. Peniston liked the periodical recurrence of +gratitude evoked by unexpected cheques, and was perhaps shrewd +enough to perceive that such a method of giving kept alive in her +niece a salutary sense of dependence. + +Beyond this, Mrs. Peniston had not felt called upon to do anything +for her charge: she had simply stood aside and let her take the +field. Lily had taken it, at first with the confidence of assured +possessorship, then with gradually narrowing demands, till now +she found herself actually struggling for a foothold on the +broad space which had once seemed her own for the asking. How it +happened she did not yet know. Sometimes she thought it was because +Mrs. Peniston had been too passive, and again she feared it was +because she herself had not been passive enough. Had she shown an +undue eagerness for victory? Had she lacked patience, pliancy and +dissimulation? Whether she charged herself with these faults or +absolved herself from them, made no difference in the sum-total +of her failure. Younger and plainer girls had been married off by +dozens, and she was nine-and-twenty, and still Miss Bart. + +She was beginning to have fits of angry rebellion against fate, +when she longed to drop out of the race and make an independent +life for herself. But what manner of life would it be? She had +barely enough money to pay her dress-makers’ bills and her gambling +debts; and none of the desultory interests which she dignified with +the name of tastes was pronounced enough to enable her to live +contentedly in obscurity. Ah, no—she was too intelligent not to be +honest with herself. She knew that she hated dinginess as much as +her mother had hated it, and to her last breath she meant to fight +against it, dragging herself up again and again above its flood +till she gained the bright pinnacles of success which presented +such a slippery surface to her clutch. + + + + +Chapter 4 + + +The next morning, on her breakfast tray, Miss Bart found a note +from her hostess. + +“Dearest Lily,” it ran, “if it is not too much of a bore to be +down by ten, will you come to my sitting-room to help me with some +tiresome things?” + +Lily tossed aside the note and subsided on her pillows with a sigh. +It WAS a bore to be down by ten—an hour regarded at Bellomont as +vaguely synchronous with sunrise—and she knew too well the nature +of the tiresome things in question. Miss Pragg, the secretary, +had been called away, and there would be notes and dinner-cards +to write, lost addresses to hunt up, and other social drudgery to +perform. It was understood that Miss Bart should fill the gap in +such emergencies, and she usually recognized the obligation without +a murmur. + +Today, however, it renewed the sense of servitude which the +previous night’s review of her cheque-book had produced. Everything +in her surroundings ministered to feelings of ease and amenity. +The windows stood open to the sparkling freshness of the September +morning, and between the yellow boughs she caught a perspective of +hedges and parterres leading by degrees of lessening formality to +the free undulations of the park. Her maid had kindled a little +fire on the hearth, and it contended cheerfully with the sunlight +which slanted across the moss-green carpet and caressed the curved +sides of an old marquetry desk. Near the bed stood a table holding +her breakfast tray, with its harmonious porcelain and silver, +a handful of violets in a slender glass, and the morning paper +folded beneath her letters. There was nothing new to Lily in these +tokens of a studied luxury; but, though they formed a part of her +atmosphere, she never lost her sensitiveness to their charm. Mere +display left her with a sense of superior distinction; but she felt +an affinity to all the subtler manifestations of wealth. + +Mrs. Trenor’s summons, however, suddenly recalled her state of +dependence, and she rose and dressed in a mood of irritability that +she was usually too prudent to indulge. She knew that such emotions +leave lines on the face as well as in the character, and she had +meant to take warning by the little creases which her midnight +survey had revealed. + +The matter of course tone of Mrs. Trenor’s greeting deepened her +irritation. If one did drag one’s self out of bed at such an hour, +and come down fresh and radiant to the monotony of note-writing, +some special recognition of the sacrifice seemed fitting. But Mrs. +Trenor’s tone showed no consciousness of the fact. + +“Oh, Lily, that’s nice of you,” she merely sighed across the +chaos of letters, bills and other domestic documents which gave +an incongruously commercial touch to the slender elegance of her +writing-table. + +“There are such lots of horrors this morning,” she added, clearing +a space in the centre of the confusion and rising to yield her seat +to Miss Bart. + +Mrs. Trenor was a tall fair woman, whose height just saved her +from redundancy. Her rosy blondness had survived some forty years +of futile activity without showing much trace of ill-usage except +in a diminished play of feature. It was difficult to define her +beyond saying that she seemed to exist only as a hostess, not so +much from any exaggerated instinct of hospitality as because she +could not sustain life except in a crowd. The collective nature +of her interests exempted her from the ordinary rivalries of her +sex, and she knew no more personal emotion than that of hatred for +the woman who presumed to give bigger dinners or have more amusing +house-parties than herself. As her social talents, backed by Mr. +Trenor’s bank-account, almost always assured her ultimate triumph +in such competitions, success had developed in her an unscrupulous +good nature toward the rest of her sex, and in Miss Bart’s +utilitarian classification of her friends, Mrs. Trenor ranked as +the woman who was least likely to “go back” on her. + +“It was simply inhuman of Pragg to go off now,” Mrs. Trenor +declared, as her friend seated herself at the desk. “She says her +sister is going to have a baby—as if that were anything to having +a house-party! I’m sure I shall get most horribly mixed up and +there will be some awful rows. When I was down at Tuxedo I asked a +lot of people for next week, and I’ve mislaid the list and can’t +remember who is coming. And this week is going to be a horrid +failure too—and Gwen Van Osburgh will go back and tell her mother +how bored people were. I did mean to ask the Wetheralls—that was a +blunder of Gus’s. They disapprove of Carry Fisher, you know. As if +one could help having Carry Fisher! It WAS foolish of her to get +that second divorce—Carry always overdoes things—but she said the +only way to get a penny out of Fisher was to divorce him and make +him pay alimony. And poor Carry has to consider every dollar. It’s +really absurd of Alice Wetherall to make such a fuss about meeting +her, when one thinks of what society is coming to. Some one said +the other day that there was a divorce and a case of appendicitis +in every family one knows. Besides, Carry is the only person who +can keep Gus in a good humour when we have bores in the house. Have +you noticed that ALL the husbands like her? All, I mean, except her +own. It’s rather clever of her to have made a specialty of devoting +herself to dull people—the field is such a large one, and she has +it practically to herself. She finds compensations, no doubt—I know +she borrows money of Gus—but then I’d PAY her to keep him in a good +humour, so I can’t complain, after all.” + +Mrs. Trenor paused to enjoy the spectacle of Miss Bart’s efforts to +unravel her tangled correspondence. + +“But it is only the Wetheralls and Carry,” she resumed, with a +fresh note of lament. “The truth is, I’m awfully disappointed in +Lady Cressida Raith.” + +“Disappointed? Had you known her before?” + +“Mercy, no—never saw her till yesterday. Lady Skiddaw sent her +over with letters to the Van Osburghs, and I heard that Maria Van +Osburgh was asking a big party to meet her this week, so I thought +it would be fun to get her away, and Jack Stepney, who knew her +in India, managed it for me. Maria was furious, and actually had +the impudence to make Gwen invite herself here, so that they +shouldn’t be QUITE out of it—if I’d known what Lady Cressida was +like, they could have had her and welcome! But I thought any +friend of the Skiddaws’ was sure to be amusing. You remember what +fun Lady Skiddaw was? There were times when I simply had to send +the girls out of the room. Besides, Lady Cressida is the Duchess +of Beltshire’s sister, and I naturally supposed she was the same +sort; but you never can tell in those English families. They are +so big that there’s room for all kinds, and it turns out that Lady +Cressida is the moral one—married a clergyman and does missionary +work in the East End. Think of my taking such a lot of trouble +about a clergyman’s wife, who wears Indian jewelry and botanizes! +She made Gus take her all through the glass-houses yesterday, and +bothered him to death by asking him the names of the plants. Fancy +treating Gus as if he were the gardener!” + +Mrs. Trenor brought this out in a CRESCENDO of indignation. + +“Oh, well, perhaps Lady Cressida will reconcile the Wetheralls to +meeting Carry Fisher,” said Miss Bart pacifically. + +“I’m sure I hope so! But she is boring all the men horribly, and +if she takes to distributing tracts, as I hear she does, it will +be too depressing. The worst of it is that she would have been so +useful at the right time. You know we have to have the Bishop once +a year, and she would have given just the right tone to things. +I always have horrid luck about the Bishop’s visits,” added Mrs. +Trenor, whose present misery was being fed by a rapidly rising tide +of reminiscence; “last year, when he came, Gus forgot all about his +being here, and brought home the Ned Wintons and the Farleys—five +divorces and six sets of children between them!” + +“When is Lady Cressida going?” Lily enquired. + +Mrs. Trenor cast up her eyes in despair. “My dear, if one only +knew! I was in such a hurry to get her away from Maria that I +actually forgot to name a date, and Gus says she told some one she +meant to stop here all winter.” + +“To stop here? In this house?” + +“Don’t be silly—in America. But if no one else asks her—you know +they NEVER go to hotels.” + +“Perhaps Gus only said it to frighten you.” + +“No—I heard her tell Bertha Dorset that she had six months to put +in while her husband was taking the cure in the Engadine. You +should have seen Bertha look vacant! But it’s no joke, you know—if +she stays here all the autumn she’ll spoil everything, and Maria +Van Osburgh will simply exult.” + +At this affecting vision Mrs. Trenor’s voice trembled with +self-pity. + +“Oh, Judy—as if any one were ever bored at Bellomont!” Miss Bart +tactfully protested. “You know perfectly well that, if Mrs. Van +Osburgh were to get all the right people and leave you with all the +wrong ones, you’d manage to make things go off, and she wouldn’t.” + +Such an assurance would usually have restored Mrs. Trenor’s +complacency; but on this occasion it did not chase the cloud from +her brow. + +“It isn’t only Lady Cressida,” she lamented. “Everything has gone +wrong this week. I can see that Bertha Dorset is furious with me.” + +“Furious with you? Why?” + +“Because I told her that Lawrence Selden was coming; but he +wouldn’t, after all, and she’s quite unreasonable enough to think +it’s my fault.” + +Miss Bart put down her pen and sat absently gazing at the note she +had begun. + +“I thought that was all over,” she said. + +“So it is, on his side. And of course Bertha has been idle since. +But I fancy she’s out of a job just at present—and some one gave me +a hint that I had better ask Lawrence. Well, I DID ask him—but I +couldn’t make him come; and now I suppose she’ll take it out of me +by being perfectly nasty to every one else.” + +“Oh, she may take it out of HIM by being perfectly charming—to some +one else.” + +Mrs. Trenor shook her head dolefully. “She knows he wouldn’t mind. +And who else is there? Alice Wetherall won’t let Lucius out of her +sight. Ned Silverton can’t take his eyes off Carry Fisher—poor boy! +Gus is bored by Bertha, Jack Stepney knows her too well—and—well, +to be sure, there’s Percy Gryce!” + +She sat up smiling at the thought. + +Miss Bart’s countenance did not reflect the smile. + +“Oh, she and Mr. Gryce would not be likely to hit it off.” + +“You mean that she’d shock him and he’d bore her? Well, that’s not +such a bad beginning, you know. But I hope she won’t take it into +her head to be nice to him, for I asked him here on purpose for +you.” + +Lily laughed. “MERCI DU COMPLIMENT! I should certainly have no show +against Bertha.” + +“Do you think I am uncomplimentary? I’m not really, you know. Every +one knows you’re a thousand times handsomer and cleverer than +Bertha; but then you’re not nasty. And for always getting what she +wants in the long run, commend me to a nasty woman.” + +Miss Bart stared in affected reproval. “I thought you were so fond +of Bertha.” + +“Oh, I am—it’s much safer to be fond of dangerous people. But she +IS dangerous—and if I ever saw her up to mischief it’s now. I can +tell by poor George’s manner. That man is a perfect barometer—he +always knows when Bertha is going to——” + +“To fall?” Miss Bart suggested. + +“Don’t be shocking! You know he believes in her still. And of +course I don’t say there’s any real harm in Bertha. Only she +delights in making people miserable, and especially poor George.” + +“Well, he seems cut out for the part—I don’t wonder she likes more +cheerful companionship.” + +“Oh, George is not as dismal as you think. If Bertha did worry him +he would be quite different. Or if she’d leave him alone, and let +him arrange his life as he pleases. But she doesn’t dare lose her +hold of him on account of the money, and so when HE isn’t jealous +she pretends to be.” + +Miss Bart went on writing in silence, and her hostess sat following +her train of thought with frowning intensity. + +“Do you know,” she exclaimed after a long pause, “I believe I’ll +call up Lawrence on the telephone and tell him he simply MUST come?” + +“Oh, don’t,” said Lily, with a quick suffusion of colour. The blush +surprised her almost as much as it did her hostess, who, though +not commonly observant of facial changes, sat staring at her with +puzzled eyes. + +“Good gracious, Lily, how handsome you are! Why? Do you dislike him +so much?” + +“Not at all; I like him. But if you are actuated by the benevolent +intention of protecting me from Bertha—I don’t think I need your +protection.” + +Mrs. Trenor sat up with an exclamation. “Lily!——PERCY? Do you mean +to say you’ve actually done it?” + +Miss Bart smiled. “I only mean to say that Mr. Gryce and I are +getting to be very good friends.” + +“H’m—I see.” Mrs. Trenor fixed a rapt eye upon her. “You know they +say he has eight hundred thousand a year—and spends nothing, except +on some rubbishy old books. And his mother has heart-disease and +will leave him a lot more. OH, LILY, DO GO SLOWLY,” her friend +adjured her. + +Miss Bart continued to smile without annoyance. “I shouldn’t, for +instance,” she remarked, “be in any haste to tell him that he had a +lot of rubbishy old books.” + +“No, of course not; I know you’re wonderful about getting up +people’s subjects. But he’s horribly shy, and easily shocked, +and—and——” + +“Why don’t you say it, Judy? I have the reputation of being on the +hunt for a rich husband?” + +“Oh, I don’t mean that; he wouldn’t believe it of you—at first,” +said Mrs. Trenor, with candid shrewdness. “But you know things are +rather lively here at times—I must give Jack and Gus a hint—and +if he thought you were what his mother would call fast—oh, well, +you know what I mean. Don’t wear your scarlet CREPE-DE-CHINE for +dinner, and don’t smoke if you can help it, Lily dear!” + +Lily pushed aside her finished work with a dry smile. “You’re very +kind, Judy: I’ll lock up my cigarettes and wear that last year’s +dress you sent me this morning. And if you are really interested +in my career, perhaps you’ll be kind enough not to ask me to play +bridge again this evening.” + +“Bridge? Does he mind bridge, too? Oh, Lily, what an awful life +you’ll lead! But of course I won’t—why didn’t you give me a hint +last night? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, you poor duck, to see +you happy!” + +And Mrs. Trenor, glowing with her sex’s eagerness to smooth the +course of true love, enveloped Lily in a long embrace. + +“You’re quite sure,” she added solicitously, as the latter +extricated herself, “that you wouldn’t like me to telephone for +Lawrence Selden?” + +“Quite sure,” said Lily. + + * * * * * + +The next three days demonstrated to her own complete satisfaction +Miss Bart’s ability to manage her affairs without extraneous aid. + +As she sat, on the Saturday afternoon, on the terrace at Bellomont, +she smiled at Mrs. Trenor’s fear that she might go too fast. If +such a warning had ever been needful, the years had taught her a +salutary lesson, and she flattered herself that she now knew how to +adapt her pace to the object of pursuit. In the case of Mr. Gryce +she had found it well to flutter ahead, losing herself elusively +and luring him on from depth to depth of unconscious intimacy. The +surrounding atmosphere was propitious to this scheme of courtship. +Mrs. Trenor, true to her word, had shown no signs of expecting Lily +at the bridge-table, and had even hinted to the other card-players +that they were to betray no surprise at her unwonted defection. In +consequence of this hint, Lily found herself the centre of that +feminine solicitude which envelops a young woman in the mating +season. A solitude was tacitly created for her in the crowded +existence of Bellomont, and her friends could not have shown a +greater readiness for self-effacement had her wooing been adorned +with all the attributes of romance. In Lily’s set this conduct +implied a sympathetic comprehension of her motives, and Mr. Gryce +rose in her esteem as she saw the consideration he inspired. + +The terrace at Bellomont on a September afternoon was a spot +propitious to sentimental musings, and as Miss Bart stood leaning +against the balustrade above the sunken garden, at a little +distance from the animated group about the tea-table, she might +have been lost in the mazes of an inarticulate happiness. In +reality, her thoughts were finding definite utterance in the +tranquil recapitulation of the blessings in store for her. From +where she stood she could see them embodied in the form of Mr. +Gryce, who, in a light overcoat and muffler, sat somewhat nervously +on the edge of his chair, while Carry Fisher, with all the energy +of eye and gesture with which nature and art had combined to +endow her, pressed on him the duty of taking part in the task of +municipal reform. + +Mrs. Fisher’s latest hobby was municipal reform. It had been +preceded by an equal zeal for socialism, which had in turn replaced +an energetic advocacy of Christian Science. Mrs. Fisher was +small, fiery and dramatic; and her hands and eyes were admirable +instruments in the service of whatever causes she happened to +espouse. She had, however, the fault common to enthusiasts of +ignoring any slackness of response on the part of her hearers, and +Lily was amused by her unconsciousness of the resistance displayed +in every angle of Mr. Gryce’s attitude. Lily herself knew that +his mind was divided between the dread of catching cold if he +remained out of doors too long at that hour, and the fear that, if +he retreated to the house, Mrs. Fisher might follow him up with a +paper to be signed. Mr. Gryce had a constitutional dislike to what +he called “committing himself,” and tenderly as he cherished his +health, he evidently concluded that it was safer to stay out of +reach of pen and ink till chance released him from Mrs. Fisher’s +toils. Meanwhile he cast agonized glances in the direction of Miss +Bart, whose only response was to sink into an attitude of more +graceful abstraction. She had learned the value of contrast in +throwing her charms into relief, and was fully aware of the extent +to which Mrs. Fisher’s volubility was enhancing her own repose. + +She was roused from her musings by the approach of her cousin Jack +Stepney who, at Gwen Van Osburgh’s side, was returning across the +garden from the tennis court. + +The couple in question were engaged in the same kind of romance +in which Lily figured, and the latter felt a certain annoyance in +contemplating what seemed to her a caricature of her own situation. +Miss Van Osburgh was a large girl with flat surfaces and no high +lights: Jack Stepney had once said of her that she was as reliable +as roast mutton. His own taste was in the line of less solid and +more highly-seasoned diet; but hunger makes any fare palatable, and +there had been times when Mr. Stepney had been reduced to a crust. + +Lily considered with interest the expression of their faces: the +girl’s turned toward her companion’s like an empty plate held up to +be filled, while the man lounging at her side already betrayed the +encroaching boredom which would presently crack the thin veneer of +his smile. + +“How impatient men are!” Lily reflected. “All Jack has to do to get +everything he wants is to keep quiet and let that girl marry him; +whereas I have to calculate and contrive, and retreat and advance, +as if I were going through an intricate dance, where one misstep +would throw me hopelessly out of time.” + +As they drew nearer she was whimsically struck by a kind of family +likeness between Miss Van Osburgh and Percy Gryce. There was no +resemblance of feature. Gryce was handsome in a didactic way—he +looked like a clever pupil’s drawing from a plaster-cast—while +Gwen’s countenance had no more modelling than a face painted on +a toy balloon. But the deeper affinity was unmistakable: the two +had the same prejudices and ideals, and the same quality of making +other standards non-existent by ignoring them. This attribute was +common to most of Lily’s set: they had a force of negation which +eliminated everything beyond their own range of perception. Gryce +and Miss Van Osburgh were, in short, made for each other by every +law of moral and physical correspondence——“Yet they wouldn’t look +at each other,” Lily mused, “they never do. Each of them wants a +creature of a different race, of Jack’s race and mine, with all +sorts of intuitions, sensations and perceptions that they don’t +even guess the existence of. And they always get what they want.” + +She stood talking with her cousin and Miss Van Osburgh, till a +slight cloud on the latter’s brow advised her that even cousinly +amenities were subject to suspicion, and Miss Bart, mindful of the +necessity of not exciting enmities at this crucial point of her +career, dropped aside while the happy couple proceeded toward the +tea-table. + +Seating herself on the upper step of the terrace, Lily leaned +her head against the honeysuckles wreathing the balustrade. The +fragrance of the late blossoms seemed an emanation of the tranquil +scene, a landscape tutored to the last degree of rural elegance. +In the foreground glowed the warm tints of the gardens. Beyond the +lawn, with its pyramidal pale-gold maples and velvety firs, sloped +pastures dotted with cattle; and through a long glade the river +widened like a lake under the silver light of September. Lily did +not want to join the circle about the tea-table. They represented +the future she had chosen, and she was content with it, but in no +haste to anticipate its joys. The certainty that she could marry +Percy Gryce when she pleased had lifted a heavy load from her +mind, and her money troubles were too recent for their removal not +to leave a sense of relief which a less discerning intelligence +might have taken for happiness. Her vulgar cares were at an end. +She would be able to arrange her life as she pleased, to soar +into that empyrean of security where creditors cannot penetrate. +She would have smarter gowns than Judy Trenor, and far, far more +jewels than Bertha Dorset. She would be free forever from the +shifts, the expedients, the humiliations of the relatively poor. +Instead of having to flatter, she would be flattered; instead of +being grateful, she would receive thanks. There were old scores +she could pay off as well as old benefits she could return. And +she had no doubts as to the extent of her power. She knew that Mr. +Gryce was of the small chary type most inaccessible to impulses +and emotions. He had the kind of character in which prudence is +a vice, and good advice the most dangerous nourishment. But Lily +had known the species before: she was aware that such a guarded +nature must find one huge outlet of egoism, and she determined to +be to him what his Americana had hitherto been: the one possession +in which he took sufficient pride to spend money on it. She knew +that this generosity to self is one of the forms of meanness, and +she resolved so to identify herself with her husband’s vanity that +to gratify her wishes would be to him the most exquisite form of +self-indulgence. The system might at first necessitate a resort +to some of the very shifts and expedients from which she intended +it should free her; but she felt sure that in a short time she +would be able to play the game in her own way. How should she have +distrusted her powers? Her beauty itself was not the mere ephemeral +possession it might have been in the hands of inexperience: her +skill in enhancing it, the care she took of it, the use she made +of it, seemed to give it a kind of permanence. She felt she could +trust it to carry her through to the end. + +And the end, on the whole, was worthwhile. Life was not the mockery +she had thought it three days ago. There was room for her, after +all, in this crowded selfish world of pleasure whence, so short a +time since, her poverty had seemed to exclude her. These people +whom she had ridiculed and yet envied were glad to make a place for +her in the charmed circle about which all her desires revolved. +They were not as brutal and self-engrossed as she had fancied—or +rather, since it would no longer be necessary to flatter and humour +them, that side of their nature became less conspicuous. Society is +a revolving body which is apt to be judged according to its place +in each man’s heaven; and at present it was turning its illuminated +face to Lily. + +In the rosy glow it diffused her companions seemed full of amiable +qualities. She liked their elegance, their lightness, their lack +of emphasis: even the self-assurance which at times was so like +obtuseness now seemed the natural sign of social ascendency. They +were lords of the only world she cared for, and they were ready to +admit her to their ranks and let her lord it with them. Already +she felt within her a stealing allegiance to their standards, an +acceptance of their limitations, a disbelief in the things they did +not believe in, a contemptuous pity for the people who were not +able to live as they lived. + +The early sunset was slanting across the park. Through the boughs +of the long avenue beyond the gardens she caught the flash of +wheels, and divined that more visitors were approaching. There +was a movement behind her, a scattering of steps and voices: +it was evident that the party about the tea-table was breaking +up. Presently she heard a tread behind her on the terrace. She +supposed that Mr. Gryce had at last found means to escape from his +predicament, and she smiled at the significance of his coming to +join her instead of beating an instant retreat to the fireside. + +She turned to give him the welcome which such gallantry deserved; +but her greeting wavered into a blush of wonder, for the man who +had approached her was Lawrence Selden. + +“You see I came after all,” he said; but before she had time +to answer, Mrs. Dorset, breaking away from a lifeless colloquy +with her host, had stepped between them with a little gesture of +appropriation. + + + + +Chapter 5 + + +The observance of Sunday at Bellomont was chiefly marked by the +punctual appearance of the smart omnibus destined to convey the +household to the little church at the gates. Whether any one got +into the omnibus or not was a matter of secondary importance, +since by standing there it not only bore witness to the orthodox +intentions of the family, but made Mrs. Trenor feel, when she +finally heard it drive away, that she had somehow vicariously made +use of it. + +It was Mrs. Trenor’s theory that her daughters actually did go +to church every Sunday; but their French governess’s convictions +calling her to the rival fane, and the fatigues of the week keeping +their mother in her room till luncheon, there was seldom any one +present to verify the fact. Now and then, in a spasmodic burst of +virtue—when the house had been too uproarious over night—Gus Trenor +forced his genial bulk into a tight frock-coat and routed his +daughters from their slumbers; but habitually, as Lily explained to +Mr. Gryce, this parental duty was forgotten till the church bells +were ringing across the park, and the omnibus had driven away empty. + +Lily had hinted to Mr. Gryce that this neglect of religious +observances was repugnant to her early traditions, and that during +her visits to Bellomont she regularly accompanied Muriel and Hilda +to church. This tallied with the assurance, also confidentially +imparted, that, never having played bridge before, she had been +“dragged into it” on the night of her arrival, and had lost an +appalling amount of money in consequence of her ignorance of +the game and of the rules of betting. Mr. Gryce was undoubtedly +enjoying Bellomont. He liked the ease and glitter of the life, and +the lustre conferred on him by being a member of this group of rich +and conspicuous people. But he thought it a very materialistic +society; there were times when he was frightened by the talk of the +men and the looks of the ladies, and he was glad to find that Miss +Bart, for all her ease and self-possession, was not at home in so +ambiguous an atmosphere. For this reason he had been especially +pleased to learn that she would, as usual, attend the young Trenors +to church on Sunday morning; and as he paced the gravel sweep +before the door, his light overcoat on his arm and his prayer-book +in one carefully-gloved hand, he reflected agreeably on the +strength of character which kept her true to her early training in +surroundings so subversive to religious principles. + +For a long time Mr. Gryce and the omnibus had the gravel sweep to +themselves; but, far from regretting this deplorable indifference +on the part of the other guests, he found himself nourishing the +hope that Miss Bart might be unaccompanied. The precious minutes +were flying, however; the big chestnuts pawed the ground and +flecked their impatient sides with foam; the coachman seemed to be +slowly petrifying on the box, and the groom on the doorstep; and +still the lady did not come. Suddenly, however, there was a sound +of voices and a rustle of skirts in the doorway, and Mr. Gryce, +restoring his watch to his pocket, turned with a nervous start; +but it was only to find himself handing Mrs. Wetherall into the +carriage. + +The Wetheralls always went to church. They belonged to the vast +group of human automata who go through life without neglecting to +perform a single one of the gestures executed by the surrounding +puppets. It is true that the Bellomont puppets did not go to +church; but others equally important did—and Mr. and Mrs. +Wetherall’s circle was so large that God was included in their +visiting-list. They appeared, therefore, punctual and resigned, +with the air of people bound for a dull “At Home,” and after them +Hilda and Muriel straggled, yawning and pinning each other’s veils +and ribbons as they came. They had promised Lily to go to church +with her, they declared, and Lily was such a dear old duck that +they didn’t mind doing it to please her, though they couldn’t +fancy what had put the idea in her head, and though for their own +part they would much rather have played lawn tennis with Jack and +Gwen, if she hadn’t told them she was coming. The Misses Trenor +were followed by Lady Cressida Raith, a weather-beaten person in +Liberty silk and ethnological trinkets, who, on seeing the omnibus, +expressed her surprise that they were not to walk across the park; +but at Mrs. Wetherall’s horrified protest that the church was +a mile away, her ladyship, after a glance at the height of the +other’s heels, acquiesced in the necessity of driving, and poor +Mr. Gryce found himself rolling off between four ladies for whose +spiritual welfare he felt not the least concern. + +It might have afforded him some consolation could he have known +that Miss Bart had really meant to go to church. She had even risen +earlier than usual in the execution of her purpose. She had an idea +that the sight of her in a grey gown of devotional cut, with her +famous lashes drooped above a prayer-book, would put the finishing +touch to Mr. Gryce’s subjugation, and render inevitable a certain +incident which she had resolved should form a part of the walk they +were to take together after luncheon. Her intentions in short had +never been more definite; but poor Lily, for all the hard glaze of +her exterior, was inwardly as malleable as wax. Her faculty for +adapting herself, for entering into other people’s feelings, if it +served her now and then in small contingencies, hampered her in the +decisive moments of life. She was like a water-plant in the flux +of the tides, and today the whole current of her mood was carrying +her toward Lawrence Selden. Why had he come? Was it to see herself +or Bertha Dorset? It was the last question which, at that moment, +should have engaged her. She might better have contented herself +with thinking that he had simply responded to the despairing +summons of his hostess, anxious to interpose him between herself +and the ill-humour of Mrs. Dorset. But Lily had not rested till she +learned from Mrs. Trenor that Selden had come of his own accord. +“He didn’t even wire me—he just happened to find the trap at the +station. Perhaps it’s not over with Bertha after all,” Mrs. Trenor +musingly concluded; and went away to arrange her dinner-cards +accordingly. + +Perhaps it was not, Lily reflected; but it should be soon, unless +she had lost her cunning. If Selden had come at Mrs. Dorset’s call, +it was at her own that he would stay. So much the previous evening +had told her. Mrs. Trenor, true to her simple principle of making +her married friends happy, had placed Selden and Mrs. Dorset next +to each other at dinner; but, in obedience to the time-honoured +traditions of the match-maker, she had separated Lily and Mr. +Gryce, sending in the former with George Dorset, while Mr. Gryce +was coupled with Gwen Van Osburgh. + +George Dorset’s talk did not interfere with the range of his +neighbour’s thoughts. He was a mournful dyspeptic, intent on +finding out the deleterious ingredients of every dish and diverted +from this care only by the sound of his wife’s voice. On this +occasion, however, Mrs. Dorset took no part in the general +conversation. She sat talking in low murmurs with Selden, and +turning a contemptuous and denuded shoulder toward her host, who, +far from resenting his exclusion, plunged into the excesses of +the MENU with the joyous irresponsibility of a free man. To Mr. +Dorset, however, his wife’s attitude was a subject of such evident +concern that, when he was not scraping the sauce from his fish, or +scooping the moist bread-crumbs from the interior of his roll, he +sat straining his thin neck for a glimpse of her between the lights. + +Mrs. Trenor, as it chanced, had placed the husband and wife on +opposite sides of the table, and Lily was therefore able to observe +Mrs. Dorset also, and by carrying her glance a few feet farther, to +set up a rapid comparison between Lawrence Selden and Mr. Gryce. +It was that comparison which was her undoing. Why else had she +suddenly grown interested in Selden? She had known him for eight +years or more: ever since her return to America he had formed a +part of her background. She had always been glad to sit next to +him at dinner, had found him more agreeable than most men, and had +vaguely wished that he possessed the other qualities needful to +fix her attention; but till now she had been too busy with her own +affairs to regard him as more than one of the pleasant accessories +of life. Miss Bart was a keen reader of her own heart, and she saw +that her sudden preoccupation with Selden was due to the fact that +his presence shed a new light on her surroundings. Not that he was +notably brilliant or exceptional; in his own profession he was +surpassed by more than one man who had bored Lily through many a +weary dinner. It was rather that he had preserved a certain social +detachment, a happy air of viewing the show objectively, of having +points of contact outside the great gilt cage in which they were +all huddled for the mob to gape at. How alluring the world outside +the cage appeared to Lily, as she heard its door clang on her! In +reality, as she knew, the door never clanged: it stood always open; +but most of the captives were like flies in a bottle, and having +once flown in, could never regain their freedom. It was Selden’s +distinction that he had never forgotten the way out. + +That was the secret of his way of readjusting her vision. Lily, +turning her eyes from him, found herself scanning her little world +through his retina: it was as though the pink lamps had been shut +off and the dusty daylight let in. She looked down the long table, +studying its occupants one by one, from Gus Trenor, with his +heavy carnivorous head sunk between his shoulders, as he preyed +on a jellied plover, to his wife, at the opposite end of the long +bank of orchids, suggestive, with her glaring good-looks, of a +jeweller’s window lit by electricity. And between the two, what a +long stretch of vacuity! How dreary and trivial these people were! +Lily reviewed them with a scornful impatience: Carry Fisher, with +her shoulders, her eyes, her divorces, her general air of embodying +a “spicy paragraph”; young Silverton, who had meant to live on +proof-reading and write an epic, and who now lived on his friends +and had become critical of truffles; Alice Wetherall, an animated +visiting-list, whose most fervid convictions turned on the wording +of invitations and the engraving of dinner-cards; Wetherall, with +his perpetual nervous nod of acquiescence, his air of agreeing with +people before he knew what they were saying; Jack Stepney, with his +confident smile and anxious eyes, half way between the sheriff and +an heiress; Gwen Van Osburgh, with all the guileless confidence of +a young girl who has always been told that there is no one richer +than her father. + +Lily smiled at her classification of her friends. How different +they had seemed to her a few hours ago! Then they had symbolized +what she was gaining, now they stood for what she was giving +up. That very afternoon they had seemed full of brilliant +qualities; now she saw that they were merely dull in a loud way. +Under the glitter of their opportunities she saw the poverty +of their achievement. It was not that she wanted them to be +more disinterested; but she would have liked them to be more +picturesque. And she had a shamed recollection of the way in which, +a few hours since, she had felt the centripetal force of their +standards. She closed her eyes an instant, and the vacuous routine +of the life she had chosen stretched before her like a long white +road without dip or turning: it was true she was to roll over it +in a carriage instead of trudging it on foot, but sometimes the +pedestrian enjoys the diversion of a short cut which is denied to +those on wheels. + +She was roused by a chuckle which Mr. Dorset seemed to eject from +the depths of his lean throat. + +“I say, do look at her,” he exclaimed, turning to Miss Bart with +lugubrious merriment—“I beg your pardon, but do just look at my +wife making a fool of that poor devil over there! One would really +suppose she was gone on him—and it’s all the other way round, I +assure you.” + +Thus adjured, Lily turned her eyes on the spectacle which was +affording Mr. Dorset such legitimate mirth. It certainly appeared, +as he said, that Mrs. Dorset was the more active participant in +the scene: her neighbour seemed to receive her advances with a +temperate zest which did not distract him from his dinner. The +sight restored Lily’s good humour, and knowing the peculiar +disguise which Mr. Dorset’s marital fears assumed, she asked gaily: +“Aren’t you horribly jealous of her?” + +Dorset greeted the sally with delight. “Oh, abominably—you’ve +just hit it—keeps me awake at night. The doctors tell me that’s +what has knocked my digestion out—being so infernally jealous of +her.—I can’t eat a mouthful of this stuff, you know,” he added +suddenly, pushing back his plate with a clouded countenance; +and Lily, unfailingly adaptable, accorded her radiant attention +to his prolonged denunciation of other people’s cooks, with a +supplementary tirade on the toxic qualities of melted butter. + +It was not often that he found so ready an ear; and, being a man +as well as a dyspeptic, it may be that as he poured his grievances +into it he was not insensible to its rosy symmetry. At any rate he +engaged Lily so long that the sweets were being handed when she +caught a phrase on her other side, where Miss Corby, the comic +woman of the company, was bantering Jack Stepney on his approaching +engagement. Miss Corby’s role was jocularity: she always entered +the conversation with a handspring. + +“And of course you’ll have Sim Rosedale as best man!” Lily heard +her fling out as the climax of her prognostications; and Stepney +responded, as if struck: “Jove, that’s an idea. What a thumping +present I’d get out of him!” + +SIM ROSEDALE! The name, made more odious by its diminutive, +obtruded itself on Lily’s thoughts like a leer. It stood for one +of the many hated possibilities hovering on the edge of life. If +she did not marry Percy Gryce, the day might come when she would +have to be civil to such men as Rosedale. IF SHE DID NOT MARRY +HIM? But she meant to marry him—she was sure of him and sure of +herself. She drew back with a shiver from the pleasant paths in +which her thoughts had been straying, and set her feet once more in +the middle of the long white road.... When she went upstairs that +night she found that the late post had brought her a fresh batch of +bills. Mrs. Peniston, who was a conscientious woman, had forwarded +them all to Bellomont. + + * * * * * + +Miss Bart, accordingly, rose the next morning with the most earnest +conviction that it was her duty to go to church. She tore herself +betimes from the lingering enjoyment of her breakfast tray, rang to +have her grey gown laid out, and despatched her maid to borrow a +prayer-book from Mrs. Trenor. + +But her course was too purely reasonable not to contain the germs +of rebellion. No sooner were her preparations made than they roused +a smothered sense of resistance. A small spark was enough to +kindle Lily’s imagination, and the sight of the grey dress and the +borrowed prayer-book flashed a long light down the years. She would +have to go to church with Percy Gryce every Sunday. They would have +a front pew in the most expensive church in New York, and his name +would figure handsomely in the list of parish charities. In a few +years, when he grew stouter, he would be made a warden. Once in the +winter the rector would come to dine, and her husband would beg +her to go over the list and see that no DIVORCEES were included, +except those who had showed signs of penitence by being re-married +to the very wealthy. There was nothing especially arduous in this +round of religious obligations; but it stood for a fraction of that +great bulk of boredom which loomed across her path. And who could +consent to be bored on such a morning? Lily had slept well, and +her bath had filled her with a pleasant glow, which was becomingly +reflected in the clear curve of her cheek. No lines were visible +this morning, or else the glass was at a happier angle. + +And the day was the accomplice of her mood: it was a day for +impulse and truancy. The light air seemed full of powdered gold; +below the dewy bloom of the lawns the woodlands blushed and +smouldered, and the hills across the river swam in molten blue. +Every drop of blood in Lily’s veins invited her to happiness. + +The sound of wheels roused her from these musings, and leaning +behind her shutters she saw the omnibus take up its freight. She +was too late, then—but the fact did not alarm her. A glimpse of Mr. +Gryce’s crestfallen face even suggested that she had done wisely +in absenting herself, since the disappointment he so candidly +betrayed would surely whet his appetite for the afternoon walk. +That walk she did not mean to miss; one glance at the bills on her +writing-table was enough to recall its necessity. But meanwhile +she had the morning to herself, and could muse pleasantly on the +disposal of its hours. She was familiar enough with the habits of +Bellomont to know that she was likely to have a free field till +luncheon. She had seen the Wetheralls, the Trenor girls and Lady +Cressida packed safely into the omnibus; Judy Trenor was sure to +be having her hair shampooed; Carry Fisher had doubtless carried +off her host for a drive; Ned Silverton was probably smoking +the cigarette of young despair in his bedroom; and Kate Corby +was certain to be playing tennis with Jack Stepney and Miss Van +Osburgh. Of the ladies, this left only Mrs. Dorset unaccounted for, +and Mrs. Dorset never came down till luncheon: her doctors, she +averred, had forbidden her to expose herself to the crude air of +the morning. + +To the remaining members of the party Lily gave no special thought; +wherever they were, they were not likely to interfere with her +plans. These, for the moment, took the shape of assuming a dress +somewhat more rustic and summerlike in style than the garment she +had first selected, and rustling downstairs, sunshade in hand, with +the disengaged air of a lady in quest of exercise. The great hall +was empty but for the knot of dogs by the fire, who, taking in at +a glance the outdoor aspect of Miss Bart, were upon her at once +with lavish offers of companionship. She put aside the ramming paws +which conveyed these offers, and assuring the joyous volunteers +that she might presently have a use for their company, sauntered +on through the empty drawing-room to the library at the end of the +house. The library was almost the only surviving portion of the +old manor-house of Bellomont: a long spacious room, revealing the +traditions of the mother-country in its classically-cased doors, +the Dutch tiles of the chimney, and the elaborate hob-grate with +its shining brass urns. A few family portraits of lantern-jawed +gentlemen in tie-wigs, and ladies with large head-dresses and small +bodies, hung between the shelves lined with pleasantly-shabby +books: books mostly contemporaneous with the ancestors in question, +and to which the subsequent Trenors had made no perceptible +additions. The library at Bellomont was in fact never used for +reading, though it had a certain popularity as a smoking room or +a quiet retreat for flirtation. It had occurred to Lily, however, +that it might on this occasion have been resorted to by the only +member of the party in the least likely to put it to its original +use. She advanced noiselessly over the dense old rug scattered +with easy-chairs, and before she reached the middle of the room +she saw that she had not been mistaken. Lawrence Selden was in +fact seated at its farther end; but though a book lay on his knee, +his attention was not engaged with it, but directed to a lady +whose lace-clad figure, as she leaned back in an adjoining chair, +detached itself with exaggerated slimness against the dusky leather +upholstery. + +Lily paused as she caught sight of the group; for a moment she +seemed about to withdraw, but thinking better of this, she +announced her approach by a slight shake of her skirts which made +the couple raise their heads, Mrs. Dorset with a look of frank +displeasure, and Selden with his usual quiet smile. The sight of +his composure had a disturbing effect on Lily; but to be disturbed +was in her case to make a more brilliant effort at self-possession. + +“Dear me, am I late?” she asked, putting a hand in his as he +advanced to greet her. + +“Late for what?” enquired Mrs. Dorset tartly. “Not for luncheon, +certainly—but perhaps you had an earlier engagement?” + +“Yes, I had,” said Lily confidingly. + +“Really? Perhaps I am in the way, then? But Mr. Selden is entirely +at your disposal.” Mrs. Dorset was pale with temper, and her +antagonist felt a certain pleasure in prolonging her distress. + +“Oh, dear, no—do stay,” she said good-humouredly. “I don’t in the +least want to drive you away.” + +“You’re awfully good, dear, but I never interfere with Mr. Selden’s +engagements.” + +The remark was uttered with a little air of proprietorship not lost +on its object, who concealed a faint blush of annoyance by stooping +to pick up the book he had dropped at Lily’s approach. The latter’s +eyes widened charmingly and she broke into a light laugh. + +“But I have no engagement with Mr. Selden! My engagement was to go +to church; and I’m afraid the omnibus has started without me. HAS +it started, do you know?” + +She turned to Selden, who replied that he had heard it drive away +some time since. + +“Ah, then I shall have to walk; I promised Hilda and Muriel to go +to church with them. It’s too late to walk there, you say? Well, I +shall have the credit of trying, at any rate—and the advantage of +escaping part of the service. I’m not so sorry for myself, after +all!” + +And with a bright nod to the couple on whom she had intruded, Miss +Bart strolled through the glass doors and carried her rustling +grace down the long perspective of the garden walk. + +She was taking her way churchward, but at no very quick pace; a +fact not lost on one of her observers, who stood in the doorway +looking after her with an air of puzzled amusement. The truth is +that she was conscious of a somewhat keen shock of disappointment. +All her plans for the day had been built on the assumption that it +was to see her that Selden had come to Bellomont. She had expected, +when she came downstairs, to find him on the watch for her; and +she had found him, instead, in a situation which might well denote +that he had been on the watch for another lady. Was it possible, +after all, that he had come for Bertha Dorset? The latter had +acted on the assumption to the extent of appearing at an hour when +she never showed herself to ordinary mortals, and Lily, for the +moment, saw no way of putting her in the wrong. It did not occur +to her that Selden might have been actuated merely by the desire +to spend a Sunday out of town: women never learn to dispense with +the sentimental motive in their judgments of men. But Lily was not +easily disconcerted; competition put her on her mettle, and she +reflected that Selden’s coming, if it did not declare him to be +still in Mrs. Dorset’s toils, showed him to be so completely free +from them that he was not afraid of her proximity. + +These thoughts so engaged her that she fell into a gait hardly +likely to carry her to church before the sermon, and at length, +having passed from the gardens to the wood-path beyond, so far +forgot her intention as to sink into a rustic seat at a bend of the +walk. The spot was charming, and Lily was not insensible to the +charm, or to the fact that her presence enhanced it; but she was +not accustomed to taste the joys of solitude except in company, +and the combination of a handsome girl and a romantic scene struck +her as too good to be wasted. No one, however, appeared to profit +by the opportunity; and after a half hour of fruitless waiting she +rose and wandered on. She felt a stealing sense of fatigue as she +walked; the sparkle had died out of her, and the taste of life +was stale on her lips. She hardly knew what she had been seeking, +or why the failure to find it had so blotted the light from her +sky: she was only aware of a vague sense of failure, of an inner +isolation deeper than the loneliness about her. + +Her footsteps flagged, and she stood gazing listlessly ahead, +digging the ferny edge of the path with the tip of her sunshade. +As she did so a step sounded behind her, and she saw Selden at her +side. + +“How fast you walk!” he remarked. “I thought I should never catch +up with you.” + +She answered gaily: “You must be quite breathless! I’ve been +sitting under that tree for an hour.” + +“Waiting for me, I hope?” he rejoined; and she said with a vague +laugh: + +“Well—waiting to see if you would come.” + +“I seize the distinction, but I don’t mind it, since doing the one +involved doing the other. But weren’t you sure that I should come?” + +“If I waited long enough—but you see I had only a limited time to +give to the experiment.” + +“Why limited? Limited by luncheon?” + +“No; by my other engagement.” + +“Your engagement to go to church with Muriel and Hilda?” + +“No; but to come home from church with another person.” + +“Ah, I see; I might have known you were fully provided with +alternatives. And is the other person coming home this way?” + +Lily laughed again. “That’s just what I don’t know; and to find +out, it is my business to get to church before the service is over.” + +“Exactly; and it is my business to prevent your doing so; in which +case the other person, piqued by your absence, will form the +desperate resolve of driving back in the omnibus.” + +Lily received this with fresh appreciation; his nonsense was like +the bubbling of her inner mood. “Is that what you would do in such +an emergency?” she enquired. + +Selden looked at her with solemnity. “I am here to prove to you,” +he cried, “what I am capable of doing in an emergency!” + +“Walking a mile in an hour—you must own that the omnibus would be +quicker!” + +“Ah—but will he find you in the end? That’s the only test of +success.” + +They looked at each other with the same luxury of enjoyment that +they had felt in exchanging absurdities over his tea-table; but +suddenly Lily’s face changed, and she said: “Well, if it is, he has +succeeded.” + +Selden, following her glance, perceived a party of people advancing +toward them from the farther bend of the path. Lady Cressida +had evidently insisted on walking home, and the rest of the +church-goers had thought it their duty to accompany her. Lily’s +companion looked rapidly from one to the other of the two men of +the party; Wetherall walking respectfully at Lady Cressida’s side +with his little sidelong look of nervous attention, and Percy Gryce +bringing-up the rear with Mrs. Wetherall and the Trenors. + +“Ah—now I see why you were getting up your Americana!” Selden +exclaimed with a note of the freest admiration but the blush with +which the sally was received checked whatever amplifications he had +meant to give it. + +That Lily Bart should object to being bantered about her suitors, +or even about her means of attracting them, was so new to Selden +that he had a momentary flash of surprise, which lit up a number +of possibilities; but she rose gallantly to the defence of her +confusion, by saying, as its object approached: “That was why I was +waiting for you—to thank you for having given me so many points!” + +“Ah, you can hardly do justice to the subject in such a short +time,” said Selden, as the Trenor girls caught sight of Miss Bart; +and while she signalled a response to their boisterous greeting, he +added quickly: “Won’t you devote your afternoon to it? You know I +must be off tomorrow morning. We’ll take a walk, and you can thank +me at your leisure.” + + + + +Chapter 6 + + +The afternoon was perfect. A deeper stillness possessed the air, +and the glitter of the American autumn was tempered by a haze which +diffused the brightness without dulling it. + +In the woody hollows of the park there was already a faint chill; +but as the ground rose the air grew lighter, and ascending the long +slopes beyond the high-road, Lily and her companion reached a zone +of lingering summer. The path wound across a meadow with scattered +trees; then it dipped into a lane plumed with asters and purpling +sprays of bramble, whence, through the light quiver of ash-leaves, +the country unrolled itself in pastoral distances. + +Higher up, the lane showed thickening tufts of fern and of the +creeping glossy verdure of shaded slopes; trees began to overhang +it, and the shade deepened to the checkered dusk of a beech-grove. +The boles of the trees stood well apart, with only a light +feathering of undergrowth; the path wound along the edge of the +wood, now and then looking out on a sunlit pasture or on an orchard +spangled with fruit. + +Lily had no real intimacy with nature, but she had a passion for +the appropriate and could be keenly sensitive to a scene which +was the fitting background of her own sensations. The landscape +outspread below her seemed an enlargement of her present mood, and +she found something of herself in its calmness, its breadth, its +long free reaches. On the nearer slopes the sugar-maples wavered +like pyres of light; lower down was a massing of grey orchards, and +here and there the lingering green of an oak-grove. Two or three +red farm-houses dozed under the apple-trees, and the white wooden +spire of a village church showed beyond the shoulder of the hill; +while far below, in a haze of dust, the high-road ran between the +fields. + +“Let us sit here,” Selden suggested, as they reached an open ledge +of rock above which the beeches rose steeply between mossy boulders. + +Lily dropped down on the rock, glowing with her long climb. She +sat quiet, her lips parted by the stress of the ascent, her eyes +wandering peacefully over the broken ranges of the landscape. +Selden stretched himself on the grass at her feet, tilting his hat +against the level sun-rays, and clasping his hands behind his head, +which rested against the side of the rock. He had no wish to make +her talk; her quick-breathing silence seemed a part of the general +hush and harmony of things. In his own mind there was only a lazy +sense of pleasure, veiling the sharp edges of sensation as the +September haze veiled the scene at their feet. But Lily, though her +attitude was as calm as his, was throbbing inwardly with a rush of +thoughts. There were in her at the moment two beings, one drawing +deep breaths of freedom and exhilaration, the other gasping for +air in a little black prison-house of fears. But gradually the +captive’s gasps grew fainter, or the other paid less heed to them: +the horizon expanded, the air grew stronger, and the free spirit +quivered for flight. + +She could not herself have explained the sense of buoyancy which +seemed to lift and swing her above the sun-suffused world at her +feet. Was it love, she wondered, or a mere fortuitous combination +of happy thoughts and sensations? How much of it was owing to the +spell of the perfect afternoon, the scent of the fading woods, the +thought of the dulness she had fled from? Lily had no definite +experience by which to test the quality of her feelings. She had +several times been in love with fortunes or careers, but only +once with a man. That was years ago, when she first came out, and +had been smitten with a romantic passion for a young gentleman +named Herbert Melson, who had blue eyes and a little wave in +his hair. Mr. Melson, who was possessed of no other negotiable +securities, had hastened to employ these in capturing the eldest +Miss Van Osburgh: since then he had grown stout and wheezy, and was +given to telling anecdotes about his children. If Lily recalled +this early emotion it was not to compare it with that which now +possessed her; the only point of comparison was the sense of +lightness, of emancipation, which she remembered feeling, in the +whirl of a waltz or the seclusion of a conservatory, during the +brief course of her youthful romance. She had not known again +till today that lightness, that glow of freedom; but now it was +something more than a blind groping of the blood. The peculiar +charm of her feeling for Selden was that she understood it; she +could put her finger on every link of the chain that was drawing +them together. Though his popularity was of the quiet kind, +felt rather than actively expressed among his friends, she had +never mistaken his inconspicuousness for obscurity. His reputed +cultivation was generally regarded as a slight obstacle to easy +intercourse, but Lily, who prided herself on her broad-minded +recognition of literature, and always carried an Omar Khayam in +her travelling-bag, was attracted by this attribute, which she +felt would have had its distinction in an older society. It was, +moreover, one of his gifts to look his part; to have a height which +lifted his head above the crowd, and the keenly-modelled dark +features which, in a land of amorphous types, gave him the air of +belonging to a more specialized race, of carrying the impress of a +concentrated past. Expansive persons found him a little dry, and +very young girls thought him sarcastic; but this air of friendly +aloofness, as far removed as possible from any assertion of +personal advantage, was the quality which piqued Lily’s interest. +Everything about him accorded with the fastidious element in her +taste, even to the light irony with which he surveyed what seemed +to her most sacred. She admired him most of all, perhaps, for being +able to convey as distinct a sense of superiority as the richest +man she had ever met. + +It was the unconscious prolongation of this thought which led her +to say presently, with a laugh: “I have broken two engagements for +you today. How many have you broken for me?” + +“None,” said Selden calmly. “My only engagement at Bellomont was +with you.” + +She glanced down at him, faintly smiling. + +“Did you really come to Bellomont to see me?” + +“Of course I did.” + +Her look deepened meditatively. “Why?” she murmured, with an accent +which took all tinge of coquetry from the question. + +“Because you’re such a wonderful spectacle: I always like to see +what you are doing.” + +“How do you know what I should be doing if you were not here?” + +Selden smiled. “I don’t flatter myself that my coming has deflected +your course of action by a hair’s breadth.” + +“That’s absurd—since, if you were not here, I could obviously not +be taking a walk with you.” + +“No; but your taking a walk with me is only another way of making +use of your material. You are an artist and I happen to be the bit +of colour you are using today. It’s a part of your cleverness to be +able to produce premeditated effects extemporaneously.” + +Lily smiled also: his words were too acute not to strike her sense +of humour. It was true that she meant to use the accident of his +presence as part of a very definite effect; or that, at least, +was the secret pretext she had found for breaking her promise to +walk with Mr. Gryce. She had sometimes been accused of being too +eager—even Judy Trenor had warned her to go slowly. Well, she would +not be too eager in this case; she would give her suitor a longer +taste of suspense. Where duty and inclination jumped together, it +was not in Lily’s nature to hold them asunder. She had excused +herself from the walk on the plea of a headache: the horrid +headache which, in the morning, had prevented her venturing to +church. Her appearance at luncheon justified the excuse. She looked +languid, full of a suffering sweetness; she carried a scent-bottle +in her hand. Mr. Gryce was new to such manifestations; he wondered +rather nervously if she were delicate, having far-reaching fears +about the future of his progeny. But sympathy won the day, and he +besought her not to expose herself: he always connected the outer +air with ideas of exposure. + +Lily had received his sympathy with languid gratitude, urging him, +since she should be such poor company, to join the rest of the +party who, after luncheon, were starting in automobiles on a visit +to the Van Osburghs at Peekskill. Mr. Gryce was touched by her +disinterestedness, and, to escape from the threatened vacuity of +the afternoon, had taken her advice and departed mournfully, in a +dust-hood and goggles: as the motor-car plunged down the avenue she +smiled at his resemblance to a baffled beetle. Selden had watched +her manoeuvres with lazy amusement. She had made no reply to his +suggestion that they should spend the afternoon together, but as +her plan unfolded itself he felt fairly confident of being included +in it. The house was empty when at length he heard her step on the +stair and strolled out of the billiard-room to join her. + +She had on a hat and walking-dress, and the dogs were bounding at +her feet. + +“I thought, after all, the air might do me good,” she explained; +and he agreed that so simple a remedy was worth trying. + +The excursionists would be gone at least four hours; Lily and +Selden had the whole afternoon before them, and the sense of +leisure and safety gave the last touch of lightness to her spirit. +With so much time to talk, and no definite object to be led up to, +she could taste the rare joys of mental vagrancy. + +She felt so free from ulterior motives that she took up his charge +with a touch of resentment. + +“I don’t know,” she said, “why you are always accusing me of +premeditation.” + +“I thought you confessed to it: you told me the other day that you +had to follow a certain line—and if one does a thing at all it is a +merit to do it thoroughly.” + +“If you mean that a girl who has no one to think for her is obliged +to think for herself, I am quite willing to accept the imputation. +But you must find me a dismal kind of person if you suppose that I +never yield to an impulse.” + +“Ah, but I don’t suppose that: haven’t I told you that your genius +lies in converting impulses into intentions?” + +“My genius?” she echoed with a sudden note of weariness. “Is there +any final test of genius but success? And I certainly haven’t +succeeded.” + +Selden pushed his hat back and took a side-glance at her. +“Success—what is success? I shall be interested to have your +definition.” + +“Success?” She hesitated. “Why, to get as much as one can out of +life, I suppose. It’s a relative quality, after all. Isn’t that +your idea of it?” + +“My idea of it? God forbid!” He sat up with sudden energy, resting +his elbows on his knees and staring out upon the mellow fields. “My +idea of success,” he said, “is personal freedom.” + +“Freedom? Freedom from worries?” + +“From everything—from money, from poverty, from ease and anxiety, +from all the material accidents. To keep a kind of republic of the +spirit—that’s what I call success.” + +She leaned forward with a responsive flash. “I know—I know—it’s +strange; but that’s just what I’ve been feeling today.” + +He met her eyes with the latent sweetness of his. “Is the feeling +so rare with you?” he said. + +She blushed a little under his gaze. “You think me horribly sordid, +don’t you? But perhaps it’s rather that I never had any choice. +There was no one, I mean, to tell me about the republic of the +spirit.” + +“There never is—it’s a country one has to find the way to one’s +self.” + +“But I should never have found my way there if you hadn’t told me.” + +“Ah, there are sign-posts—but one has to know how to read them.” + +“Well, I have known, I have known!” she cried with a glow of +eagerness. “Whenever I see you, I find myself spelling out a letter +of the sign—and yesterday—last evening at dinner—I suddenly saw a +little way into your republic.” + +Selden was still looking at her, but with a changed eye. Hitherto +he had found, in her presence and her talk, the aesthetic amusement +which a reflective man is apt to seek in desultory intercourse with +pretty women. His attitude had been one of admiring spectatorship, +and he would have been almost sorry to detect in her any emotional +weakness which should interfere with the fulfilment of her aims. +But now the hint of this weakness had become the most interesting +thing about her. He had come on her that morning in a moment of +disarray; her face had been pale and altered, and the diminution +of her beauty had lent her a poignant charm. THAT IS HOW SHE LOOKS +WHEN SHE IS ALONE! had been his first thought; and the second was +to note in her the change which his coming produced. It was the +danger-point of their intercourse that he could not doubt the +spontaneity of her liking. From whatever angle he viewed their +dawning intimacy, he could not see it as part of her scheme of +life; and to be the unforeseen element in a career so accurately +planned was stimulating even to a man who had renounced sentimental +experiments. + +“Well,” he said, “did it make you want to see more? Are you going +to become one of us?” + +He had drawn out his cigarettes as he spoke, and she reached her +hand toward the case. + +“Oh, do give me one—I haven’t smoked for days!” + +“Why such unnatural abstinence? Everybody smokes at Bellomont.” + +“Yes—but it is not considered becoming in a JEUNE FILLE A MARIER; +and at the present moment I am a JEUNE FILLE A MARIER.” + +“Ah, then I’m afraid we can’t let you into the republic.” + +“Why not? Is it a celibate order?” + +“Not in the least, though I’m bound to say there are not many +married people in it. But you will marry some one very rich, and +it’s as hard for rich people to get into as the kingdom of heaven.” + +“That’s unjust, I think, because, as I understand it, one of the +conditions of citizenship is not to think too much about money, and +the only way not to think about money is to have a great deal of +it.” + +“You might as well say that the only way not to think about air is +to have enough to breathe. That is true enough in a sense; but your +lungs are thinking about the air, if you are not. And so it is with +your rich people—they may not be thinking of money, but they’re +breathing it all the while; take them into another element and see +how they squirm and gasp!” + +Lily sat gazing absently through the blue rings of her +cigarette-smoke. + +“It seems to me,” she said at length, “that you spend a good deal +of your time in the element you disapprove of.” + +Selden received this thrust without discomposure. “Yes; but I have +tried to remain amphibious: it’s all right as long as one’s lungs +can work in another air. The real alchemy consists in being able +to turn gold back again into something else; and that’s the secret +that most of your friends have lost.” + +Lily mused. “Don’t you think,” she rejoined after a moment, “that +the people who find fault with society are too apt to regard it as +an end and not a means, just as the people who despise money speak +as if its only use were to be kept in bags and gloated over? Isn’t +it fairer to look at them both as opportunities, which may be used +either stupidly or intelligently, according to the capacity of the +user?” + +“That is certainly the sane view; but the queer thing about society +is that the people who regard it as an end are those who are in it, +and not the critics on the fence. It’s just the other way with most +shows—the audience may be under the illusion, but the actors know +that real life is on the other side of the footlights. The people +who take society as an escape from work are putting it to its +proper use; but when it becomes the thing worked for it distorts +all the relations of life.” Selden raised himself on his elbow. +“Good heavens!” he went on, “I don’t underrate the decorative side +of life. It seems to me the sense of splendour has justified itself +by what it has produced. The worst of it is that so much human +nature is used up in the process. If we’re all the raw stuff of the +cosmic effects, one would rather be the fire that tempers a sword +than the fish that dyes a purple cloak. And a society like ours +wastes such good material in producing its little patch of purple! +Look at a boy like Ned Silverton—he’s really too good to be used to +refurbish anybody’s social shabbiness. There’s a lad just setting +out to discover the universe: isn’t it a pity he should end by +finding it in Mrs. Fisher’s drawing-room?” + +“Ned is a dear boy, and I hope he will keep his illusions long +enough to write some nice poetry about them; but do you think it is +only in society that he is likely to lose them?” + +Selden answered her with a shrug. “Why do we call all our generous +ideas illusions, and the mean ones truths? Isn’t it a sufficient +condemnation of society to find one’s self accepting such +phraseology? I very nearly acquired the jargon at Silverton’s age, +and I know how names can alter the colour of beliefs.” + +She had never heard him speak with such energy of affirmation. His +habitual touch was that of the eclectic, who lightly turns over +and compares; and she was moved by this sudden glimpse into the +laboratory where his faiths were formed. + +“Ah, you are as bad as the other sectarians,” she exclaimed; “why +do you call your republic a republic? It is a closed corporation, +and you create arbitrary objections in order to keep people out.” + +“It is not MY republic; if it were, I should have a COUP D’ETAT and +seat you on the throne.” + +“Whereas, in reality, you think I can never even get my foot across +the threshold? Oh, I understand what you mean. You despise my +ambitions—you think them unworthy of me!” + +Selden smiled, but not ironically. “Well, isn’t that a tribute? I +think them quite worthy of most of the people who live by them.” + +She had turned to gaze on him gravely. “But isn’t it possible that, +if I had the opportunities of these people, I might make a better +use of them? Money stands for all kinds of things—its purchasing +quality isn’t limited to diamonds and motor-cars.” + + +“Not in the least: you might expiate your enjoyment of them by +founding a hospital.” + +“But if you think they are what I should really enjoy, you must +think my ambitions are good enough for me.” + +Selden met this appeal with a laugh. “Ah, my dear Miss Bart, I am +not divine Providence, to guarantee your enjoying the things you +are trying to get!” + +“Then the best you can say for me is, that after struggling to get +them I probably shan’t like them?” She drew a deep breath. “What a +miserable future you foresee for me!” + +“Well—have you never foreseen it for yourself?” The slow colour +rose to her cheek, not a blush of excitement but drawn from the +deep wells of feeling; it was as if the effort of her spirit had +produced it. + +“Often and often,” she said. “But it looks so much darker when you +show it to me!” + +He made no answer to this exclamation, and for a while they sat +silent, while something throbbed between them in the wide quiet of +the air. + +But suddenly she turned on him with a kind of vehemence. “Why do +you do this to me?” she cried. “Why do you make the things I have +chosen seem hateful to me, if you have nothing to give me instead?” + +The words roused Selden from the musing fit into which he had +fallen. He himself did not know why he had led their talk along +such lines; it was the last use he would have imagined himself +making of an afternoon’s solitude with Miss Bart. But it was one +of those moments when neither seemed to speak deliberately, when +an indwelling voice in each called to the other across unsounded +depths of feeling. + +“No, I have nothing to give you instead,” he said, sitting up and +turning so that he faced her. “If I had, it should be yours, you +know.” + +She received this abrupt declaration in a way even stranger than +the manner of its making: she dropped her face on her hands and he +saw that for a moment she wept. + +It was for a moment only, however; for when he leaned nearer and +drew down her hands with a gesture less passionate than grave, she +turned on him a face softened but not disfigured by emotion, and he +said to himself, somewhat cruelly, that even her weeping was an art. + +The reflection steadied his voice as he asked, between pity and +irony: “Isn’t it natural that I should try to belittle all the +things I can’t offer you?” + +Her face brightened at this, but she drew her hand away, not with +a gesture of coquetry, but as though renouncing something to which +she had no claim. + +“But you belittle ME, don’t you,” she returned gently, “in being so +sure they are the only things I care for?” + +Selden felt an inner start; but it was only the last quiver of his +egoism. Almost at once he answered quite simply: “But you do care +for them, don’t you? And no wishing of mine can alter that.” + +He had so completely ceased to consider how far this might carry +him, that he had a distinct sense of disappointment when she turned +on him a face sparkling with derision. + +“Ah,” she cried, “for all your fine phrases you’re really as great +a coward as I am, for you wouldn’t have made one of them if you +hadn’t been so sure of my answer.” + +The shock of this retort had the effect of crystallizing Selden’s +wavering intentions. + +“I am not so sure of your answer,” he said quietly. “And I do you +the justice to believe that you are not either.” + +It was her turn to look at him with surprise; and after a +moment—“Do you want to marry me?” she asked. + +He broke into a laugh. “No, I don’t want to—but perhaps I should if +you did!” + +“That’s what I told you—you’re so sure of me that you can amuse +yourself with experiments.” She drew back the hand he had regained, +and sat looking down on him sadly. + +“I am not making experiments,” he returned. “Or if I am, it is +not on you but on myself. I don’t know what effect they are going +to have on me—but if marrying you is one of them, I will take the +risk.” + +She smiled faintly. “It would be a great risk, certainly—I have +never concealed from you how great.” + +“Ah, it’s you who are the coward!” he exclaimed. + +She had risen, and he stood facing her with his eyes on hers. The +soft isolation of the falling day enveloped them: they seemed +lifted into a finer air. All the exquisite influences of the +hour trembled in their veins, and drew them to each other as the +loosened leaves were drawn to the earth. + +“It’s you who are the coward,” he repeated, catching her hands in +his. + +She leaned on him for a moment, as if with a drop of tired wings: +he felt as though her heart were beating rather with the stress +of a long flight than the thrill of new distances. Then, drawing +back with a little smile of warning—“I shall look hideous in dowdy +clothes; but I can trim my own hats,” she declared. + +They stood silent for a while after this, smiling at each other +like adventurous children who have climbed to a forbidden height +from which they discover a new world. The actual world at their +feet was veiling itself in dimness, and across the valley a clear +moon rose in the denser blue. + +Suddenly they heard a remote sound, like the hum of a giant insect, +and following the high-road, which wound whiter through the +surrounding twilight, a black object rushed across their vision. + +Lily started from her attitude of absorption; her smile faded and +she began to move toward the lane. + +“I had no idea it was so late! We shall not be back till after +dark,” she said, almost impatiently. + +Selden was looking at her with surprise: it took him a moment to +regain his usual view of her; then he said, with an uncontrollable +note of dryness: “That was not one of our party; the motor was +going the other way.” + +“I know—I know——” She paused, and he saw her redden through the +twilight. “But I told them I was not well—that I should not go out. +Let us go down!” she murmured. + +Selden continued to look at her; then he drew his cigarette-case +from his pocket and slowly lit a cigarette. It seemed to him +necessary, at that moment, to proclaim, by some habitual gesture +of this sort, his recovered hold on the actual: he had an almost +puerile wish to let his companion see that, their flight over, he +had landed on his feet. + +She waited while the spark flickered under his curved palm; then he +held out the cigarettes to her. + +She took one with an unsteady hand, and putting it to her lips, +leaned forward to draw her light from his. In the indistinctness +the little red gleam lit up the lower part of her face, and he saw +her mouth tremble into a smile. + +“Were you serious?” she asked, with an odd thrill of gaiety +which she might have caught up, in haste, from a heap of stock +inflections, without having time to select the just note. Selden’s +voice was under better control. “Why not?” he returned. “You see I +took no risks in being so.” And as she continued to stand before +him, a little pale under the retort, he added quickly: “Let us go +down.” + + + + +Chapter 7 + + +It spoke much for the depth of Mrs. Trenor’s friendship that her +voice, in admonishing Miss Bart, took the same note of personal +despair as if she had been lamenting the collapse of a house-party. + +“All I can say is, Lily, that I can’t make you out!” She leaned +back, sighing, in the morning abandon of lace and muslin, turning +an indifferent shoulder to the heaped-up importunities of her desk, +while she considered, with the eye of a physician who has given up +the case, the erect exterior of the patient confronting her. + +“If you hadn’t told me you were going in for him seriously—but I’m +sure you made that plain enough from the beginning! Why else did +you ask me to let you off bridge, and to keep away Carry and Kate +Corby? I don’t suppose you did it because he amused you; we could +none of us imagine your putting up with him for a moment unless +you meant to marry him. And I’m sure everybody played fair! They +all wanted to help it along. Even Bertha kept her hands off—I will +say that—till Lawrence came down and you dragged him away from +her. After that she had a right to retaliate—why on earth did you +interfere with her? You’ve known Lawrence Selden for years—why did +you behave as if you had just discovered him? If you had a grudge +against Bertha it was a stupid time to show it—you could have paid +her back just as well after you were married! I told you Bertha +was dangerous. She was in an odious mood when she came here, but +Lawrence’s turning up put her in a good humour, and if you’d only +let her think he came for HER it would have never occurred to her +to play you this trick. Oh, Lily, you’ll never do anything if +you’re not serious!” + +Miss Bart accepted this exhortation in a spirit of the purest +impartiality. Why should she have been angry? It was the voice +of her own conscience which spoke to her through Mrs. Trenor’s +reproachful accents. But even to her own conscience she must trump +up a semblance of defence. “I only took a day off—I thought he +meant to stay on all this week, and I knew Mr. Selden was leaving +this morning.” + +Mrs. Trenor brushed aside the plea with a gesture which laid bare +its weakness. + +“He did mean to stay—that’s the worst of it. It shows that he’s +run away from you; that Bertha’s done her work and poisoned him +thoroughly.” + +Lily gave a slight laugh. “Oh, if he’s running I’ll overtake him!” + +Her friend threw out an arresting hand. “Whatever you do, Lily, do +nothing!” + +Miss Bart received the warning with a smile. “I don’t mean, +literally, to take the next train. There are ways——” But she did +not go on to specify them. + +Mrs. Trenor sharply corrected the tense. “There WERE ways—plenty +of them! I didn’t suppose you needed to have them pointed out. +But don’t deceive yourself—he’s thoroughly frightened. He has run +straight home to his mother, and she’ll protect him!” + +“Oh, to the death,” Lily agreed, dimpling at the vision. + +“How you can LAUGH——” her friend rebuked her; and she dropped back +to a soberer perception of things with the question: “What was it +Bertha really told him?” + +“Don’t ask me—horrors! She seemed to have raked up everything. Oh, +you know what I mean—of course there isn’t anything, REALLY; but +I suppose she brought in Prince Varigliano—and Lord Hubert—and +there was some story of your having borrowed money of old Ned Van +Alstyne: did you ever?” + +“He is my father’s cousin,” Miss Bart interposed. + +“Well, of course she left THAT out. It seems Ned told Carry Fisher; +and she told Bertha, naturally. They’re all alike, you know: they +hold their tongues for years, and you think you’re safe, but when +their opportunity comes they remember everything.” + +Lily had grown pale: her voice had a harsh note in it. “It was +some money I lost at bridge at the Van Osburghs’. I repaid it, of +course.” + +“Ah, well, they wouldn’t remember that; besides, it was the idea +of the gambling debt that frightened Percy. Oh, Bertha knew her +man—she knew just what to tell him!” + +In this strain Mrs. Trenor continued for nearly an hour to admonish +her friend. Miss Bart listened with admirable equanimity. Her +naturally good temper had been disciplined by years of enforced +compliance, since she had almost always had to attain her ends +by the circuitous path of other people’s; and, being naturally +inclined to face unpleasant facts as soon as they presented +themselves, she was not sorry to hear an impartial statement of +what her folly was likely to cost, the more so as her own thoughts +were still insisting on the other side of the case. Presented +in the light of Mrs. Trenor’s vigorous comments, the reckoning +was certainly a formidable one, and Lily, as she listened, found +herself gradually reverting to her friend’s view of the situation. +Mrs. Trenor’s words were moreover emphasized for her hearer by +anxieties which she herself could scarcely guess. Affluence, unless +stimulated by a keen imagination, forms but the vaguest notion of +the practical strain of poverty. Judy knew it must be “horrid” for +poor Lily to have to stop to consider whether she could afford +real lace on her petticoats, and not to have a motor-car and a +steam-yacht at her orders; but the daily friction of unpaid bills, +the daily nibble of small temptations to expenditure, were trials +as far out of her experience as the domestic problems of the +char-woman. Mrs. Trenor’s unconsciousness of the real stress of the +situation had the effect of making it more galling to Lily. While +her friend reproached her for missing the opportunity to eclipse +her rivals, she was once more battling in imagination with the +mounting tide of indebtedness from which she had so nearly escaped. +What wind of folly had driven her out again on those dark seas? + +If anything was needed to put the last touch to her self-abasement +it was the sense of the way her old life was opening its ruts again +to receive her. Yesterday her fancy had fluttered free pinions +above a choice of occupations; now she had to drop to the level of +the familiar routine, in which moments of seeming brilliancy and +freedom alternated with long hours of subjection. + +She laid a deprecating hand on her friend’s. “Dear Judy! I’m sorry +to have been such a bore, and you are very good to me. But you must +have some letters for me to answer—let me at least be useful.” + +She settled herself at the desk, and Mrs. Trenor accepted her +resumption of the morning’s task with a sigh which implied that, +after all, she had proved herself unfit for higher uses. + +The luncheon-table showed a depleted circle. All the men but Jack +Stepney and Dorset had returned to town (it seemed to Lily a last +touch of irony that Selden and Percy Gryce should have gone in the +same train), and Lady Cressida and the attendant Wetheralls had +been despatched by motor to lunch at a distant country-house. At +such moments of diminished interest it was usual for Mrs. Dorset to +keep her room till the afternoon; but on this occasion she drifted +in when luncheon was half over, hollowed-eyed and drooping, but +with an edge of malice under her indifference. + +She raised her eyebrows as she looked about the table. “How few of +us are left! I do so enjoy the quiet—don’t you, Lily? I wish the +men would always stop away—it’s really much nicer without them. +Oh, you don’t count, George: one doesn’t have to talk to one’s +husband. But I thought Mr. Gryce was to stay for the rest of the +week?” she added enquiringly. “Didn’t he intend to, Judy? He’s such +a nice boy—I wonder what drove him away? He is rather shy, and I’m +afraid we may have shocked him: he has been brought up in such an +old-fashioned way. Do you know, Lily, he told me he had never seen +a girl play cards for money till he saw you doing it the other +night? And he lives on the interest of his income, and always has a +lot left over to invest!” + +Mrs. Fisher leaned forward eagerly. “I do believe it is some one’s +duty to educate that young man. It is shocking that he has never +been made to realize his duties as a citizen. Every wealthy man +should be compelled to study the laws of his country.” + +Mrs. Dorset glanced at her quietly. “I think he HAS studied the +divorce laws. He told me he had promised the Bishop to sign some +kind of a petition against divorce.” + +Mrs. Fisher reddened under her powder, and Stepney said with +a laughing glance at Miss Bart: “I suppose he is thinking of +marriage, and wants to tinker up the old ship before he goes +aboard.” + +His betrothed looked shocked at the metaphor, and George Dorset +exclaimed with a sardonic growl: “Poor devil! It isn’t the ship +that will do for him, it’s the crew.” + +“Or the stowaways,” said Miss Corby brightly. “If I contemplated a +voyage with him I should try to start with a friend in the hold.” + +Miss Van Osburgh’s vague feeling of pique was struggling for +appropriate expression. “I’m sure I don’t see why you laugh at him; +I think he’s very nice,” she exclaimed; “and, at any rate, a girl +who married him would always have enough to be comfortable.” + +She looked puzzled at the redoubled laughter which hailed her +words, but it might have consoled her to know how deeply they had +sunk into the breast of one of her hearers. + +Comfortable! At that moment the word was more eloquent to Lily +Bart than any other in the language. She could not even pause to +smile over the heiress’s view of a colossal fortune as a mere +shelter against want: her mind was filled with the vision of what +that shelter might have been to her. Mrs. Dorset’s pin-pricks did +not smart, for her own irony cut deeper: no one could hurt her as +much as she was hurting herself, for no one else—not even Judy +Trenor—knew the full magnitude of her folly. + +She was roused from these unprofitable considerations by a +whispered request from her hostess, who drew her apart as they left +the luncheon-table. + +“Lily, dear, if you’ve nothing special to do, may I tell Carry +Fisher that you intend to drive to the station and fetch Gus? He +will be back at four, and I know she has it in her mind to meet +him. Of course I’m very glad to have him amused, but I happen to +know that she has bled him rather severely since she’s been here, +and she is so keen about going to fetch him that I fancy she must +have got a lot more bills this morning. It seems to me,” Mrs. +Trenor feelingly concluded, “that most of her alimony is paid by +other women’s husbands!” + +Miss Bart, on her way to the station, had leisure to muse over +her friend’s words, and their peculiar application to herself. +Why should she have to suffer for having once, for a few hours, +borrowed money of an elderly cousin, when a woman like Carry +Fisher could make a living unrebuked from the good-nature of her +men friends and the tolerance of their wives? It all turned on the +tiresome distinction between what a married woman might, and a +girl might not, do. Of course it was shocking for a married woman +to borrow money—and Lily was expertly aware of the implication +involved—but still, it was the mere MALUM PROHIBITUM which the +world decries but condones, and which, though it may be punished by +private vengeance, does not provoke the collective disapprobation +of society. To Miss Bart, in short, no such opportunities were +possible. She could of course borrow from her women friends—a +hundred here or there, at the utmost—but they were more ready to +give a gown or a trinket, and looked a little askance when she +hinted her preference for a cheque. Women are not generous lenders, +and those among whom her lot was cast were either in the same +case as herself, or else too far removed from it to understand +its necessities. The result of her meditations was the decision +to join her aunt at Richfield. She could not remain at Bellomont +without playing bridge, and being involved in other expenses; +and to continue her usual series of autumn visits would merely +prolong the same difficulties. She had reached a point where abrupt +retrenchment was necessary, and the only cheap life was a dull +life. She would start the next morning for Richfield. + +At the station she thought Gus Trenor seemed surprised, and not +wholly unrelieved, to see her. She yielded up the reins of the +light runabout in which she had driven over, and as he climbed +heavily to her side, crushing her into a scant third of the seat, +he said: “Halloo! It isn’t often you honour me. You must have been +uncommonly hard up for something to do.” + +The afternoon was warm, and propinquity made her more than usually +conscious that he was red and massive, and that beads of moisture +had caused the dust of the train to adhere unpleasantly to the +broad expanse of cheek and neck which he turned to her; but she was +aware also, from the look in his small dull eyes, that the contact +with her freshness and slenderness was as agreeable to him as the +sight of a cooling beverage. + +The perception of this fact helped her to answer gaily: “It’s not +often I have the chance. There are too many ladies to dispute the +privilege with me.” + +“The privilege of driving me home? Well, I’m glad you won the race, +anyhow. But I know what really happened—my wife sent you. Now +didn’t she?” + +He had the dull man’s unexpected flashes of astuteness, and Lily +could not help joining in the laugh with which he had pounced on +the truth. + +“You see, Judy thinks I’m the safest person for you to be with; and +she’s quite right,” she rejoined. + +“Oh, is she, though? If she is, it’s because you wouldn’t waste +your time on an old hulk like me. We married men have to put up +with what we can get: all the prizes are for the clever chaps +who’ve kept a free foot. Let me light a cigar, will you? I’ve had a +beastly day of it.” + +He drew up in the shade of the village street, and passed the +reins to her while he held a match to his cigar. The little flame +under his hand cast a deeper crimson on his puffing face, and Lily +averted her eyes with a momentary feeling of repugnance. And yet +some women thought him handsome! + +As she handed back the reins, she said sympathetically: “Did you +have such a lot of tiresome things to do?” + +“I should say so—rather!” Trenor, who was seldom listened to, +either by his wife or her friends, settled down into the rare +enjoyment of a confidential talk. “You don’t know how a fellow +has to hustle to keep this kind of thing going.” He waved his +whip in the direction of the Bellomont acres, which lay outspread +before them in opulent undulations. “Judy has no idea of what she +spends—not that there isn’t plenty to keep the thing going,” he +interrupted himself, “but a man has got to keep his eyes open and +pick up all the tips he can. My father and mother used to live +like fighting-cocks on their income, and put by a good bit of it +too—luckily for me—but at the pace we go now, I don’t know where I +should be if it weren’t for taking a flyer now and then. The women +all think—I mean Judy thinks—I’ve nothing to do but to go downtown +once a month and cut off coupons, but the truth is it takes a +devilish lot of hard work to keep the machinery running. Not that I +ought to complain today, though,” he went on after a moment, “for +I did a very neat stroke of business, thanks to Stepney’s friend +Rosedale: by the way, Miss Lily, I wish you’d try to persuade Judy +to be decently civil to that chap. He’s going to be rich enough to +buy us all out one of these days, and if she’d only ask him to dine +now and then I could get almost anything out of him. The man is mad +to know the people who don’t want to know him, and when a fellow’s +in that state there is nothing he won’t do for the first woman who +takes him up.” + +Lily hesitated a moment. The first part of her companion’s +discourse had started an interesting train of thought, which was +rudely interrupted by the mention of Mr. Rosedale’s name. She +uttered a faint protest. + +“But you know Jack did try to take him about, and he was +impossible.” + +“Oh, hang it—because he’s fat and shiny, and has a sloppy manner! +Well, all I can say is that the people who are clever enough to be +civil to him now will make a mighty good thing of it. A few years +from now he’ll be in it whether we want him or not, and then he +won’t be giving away a half-a-million tip for a dinner.” + +Lily’s mind had reverted from the intrusive personality of Mr. +Rosedale to the train of thought set in motion by Trenor’s first +words. This vast mysterious Wall Street world of “tips” and +“deals”—might she not find in it the means of escape from her +dreary predicament? She had often heard of women making money in +this way through their friends: she had no more notion than most of +her sex of the exact nature of the transaction, and its vagueness +seemed to diminish its indelicacy. She could not, indeed, imagine +herself, in any extremity, stooping to extract a “tip” from Mr. +Rosedale; but at her side was a man in possession of that precious +commodity, and who, as the husband of her dearest friend, stood to +her in a relation of almost fraternal intimacy. + +In her inmost heart Lily knew it was not by appealing to the +fraternal instinct that she was likely to move Gus Trenor; but this +way of explaining the situation helped to drape its crudity, and +she was always scrupulous about keeping up appearances to herself. +Her personal fastidiousness had a moral equivalent, and when she +made a tour of inspection in her own mind there were certain closed +doors she did not open. + +As they reached the gates of Bellomont she turned to Trenor with a +smile. “The afternoon is so perfect—don’t you want to drive me a +little farther? I’ve been rather out of spirits all day, and it’s +so restful to be away from people, with some one who won’t mind if +I’m a little dull.” + +She looked so plaintively lovely as she proffered the request, so +trustfully sure of his sympathy and understanding, that Trenor felt +himself wishing that his wife could see how other women treated +him—not battered wire-pullers like Mrs. Fisher, but a girl that +most men would have given their boots to get such a look from. + +“Out of spirits? Why on earth should you ever be out of spirits? Is +your last box of Doucet dresses a failure, or did Judy rook you out +of everything at bridge last night?” + +Lily shook her head with a sigh. “I have had to give up Doucet; +and bridge too—I can’t afford it. In fact I can’t afford any of +the things my friends do, and I am afraid Judy often thinks me a +bore because I don’t play cards any longer, and because I am not as +smartly dressed as the other women. But you will think me a bore +too if I talk to you about my worries, and I only mention them +because I want you to do me a favour—the very greatest of favours.” + +Her eyes sought his once more, and she smiled inwardly at the tinge +of apprehension that she read in them. + +“Why, of course—if it’s anything I can manage——” He broke off, and +she guessed that his enjoyment was disturbed by the remembrance of +Mrs. Fisher’s methods. + +“The greatest of favours,” she rejoined gently. “The fact is, Judy +is angry with me, and I want you to make my peace.” + +“Angry with you? Oh, come, nonsense——” his relief broke through in +a laugh. “Why, you know she’s devoted to you.” + +“She is the best friend I have, and that is why I mind having to +vex her. But I daresay you know what she has wanted me to do. She +has set her heart—poor dear—on my marrying—marrying a great deal of +money.” + +She paused with a slight falter of embarrassment, and Trenor, +turning abruptly, fixed on her a look of growing intelligence. + +“A great deal of money? Oh, by Jove—you don’t mean Gryce? What—you +do? Oh, no, of course I won’t mention it—you can trust me to keep +my mouth shut—but Gryce—good Lord, GRYCE! Did Judy really think you +could bring yourself to marry that portentous little ass? But you +couldn’t, eh? And so you gave him the sack, and that’s the reason +why he lit out by the first train this morning?” He leaned back, +spreading himself farther across the seat, as if dilated by the +joyful sense of his own discernment. “How on earth could Judy think +you would do such a thing? I could have told her you’d never put up +with such a little milksop!” + +Lily sighed more deeply. “I sometimes think,” she murmured, “that +men understand a woman’s motives better than other women do.” + +“Some men—I’m certain of it! I could have TOLD Judy,” he repeated, +exulting in the implied superiority over his wife. + +“I thought you would understand; that’s why I wanted to speak to +you,” Miss Bart rejoined. “I can’t make that kind of marriage; it’s +impossible. But neither can I go on living as all the women in my +set do. I am almost entirely dependent on my aunt, and though she +is very kind to me she makes me no regular allowance, and lately +I’ve lost money at cards, and I don’t dare tell her about it. I +have paid my card debts, of course, but there is hardly anything +left for my other expenses, and if I go on with my present life I +shall be in horrible difficulties. I have a tiny income of my own, +but I’m afraid it’s badly invested, for it seems to bring in less +every year, and I am so ignorant of money matters that I don’t +know if my aunt’s agent, who looks after it, is a good adviser.” +She paused a moment, and added in a lighter tone: “I didn’t mean +to bore you with all this, but I want your help in making Judy +understand that I can’t, at present, go on living as one must +live among you all. I am going away tomorrow to join my aunt at +Richfield, and I shall stay there for the rest of the autumn, and +dismiss my maid and learn how to mend my own clothes.” + +At this picture of loveliness in distress, the pathos of which +was heightened by the light touch with which it was drawn, a +murmur of indignant sympathy broke from Trenor. Twenty-four hours +earlier, if his wife had consulted him on the subject of Miss +Bart’s future, he would have said that a girl with extravagant +tastes and no money had better marry the first rich man she could +get; but with the subject of discussion at his side, turning to +him for sympathy, making him feel that he understood her better +than her dearest friends, and confirming the assurance by the +appeal of her exquisite nearness, he was ready to swear that such +a marriage was a desecration, and that, as a man of honour, he was +bound to do all he could to protect her from the results of her +disinterestedness. This impulse was reinforced by the reflection +that if she had married Gryce she would have been surrounded +by flattery and approval, whereas, having refused to sacrifice +herself to expediency, she was left to bear the whole cost of +her resistance. Hang it, if he could find a way out of such +difficulties for a professional sponge like Carry Fisher, who was +simply a mental habit corresponding to the physical titillations +of the cigarette or the cock-tail, he could surely do as much for +a girl who appealed to his highest sympathies, and who brought her +troubles to him with the trustfulness of a child. + +Trenor and Miss Bart prolonged their drive till long after sunset; +and before it was over he had tried, with some show of success, to +prove to her that, if she would only trust him, he could make a +handsome sum of money for her without endangering the small amount +she possessed. She was too genuinely ignorant of the manipulations +of the stock-market to understand his technical explanations, or +even perhaps to perceive that certain points in them were slurred; +the haziness enveloping the transaction served as a veil for her +embarrassment, and through the general blur her hopes dilated like +lamps in a fog. She understood only that her modest investments +were to be mysteriously multiplied without risk to herself; and the +assurance that this miracle would take place within a short time, +that there would be no tedious interval for suspense and reaction, +relieved her of her lingering scruples. + +Again she felt the lightening of her load, and with it the release +of repressed activities. Her immediate worries conjured, it was +easy to resolve that she would never again find herself in such +straits, and as the need of economy and self-denial receded +from her foreground she felt herself ready to meet any other +demand which life might make. Even the immediate one of letting +Trenor, as they drove homeward, lean a little nearer and rest +his hand reassuringly on hers, cost her only a momentary shiver +of reluctance. It was part of the game to make him feel that her +appeal had been an uncalculated impulse, provoked by the liking he +inspired; and the renewed sense of power in handling men, while it +consoled her wounded vanity, helped also to obscure the thought of +the claim at which his manner hinted. He was a coarse dull man who, +under all his show of authority, was a mere supernumerary in the +costly show for which his money paid: surely, to a clever girl, it +would be easy to hold him by his vanity, and so keep the obligation +on his side. + + + + +Chapter 8 + + +The first thousand dollar cheque which Lily received with a blotted +scrawl from Gus Trenor strengthened her self-confidence in the +exact degree to which it effaced her debts. + +The transaction had justified itself by its results: she saw now +how absurd it would have been to let any primitive scruple deprive +her of this easy means of appeasing her creditors. Lily felt really +virtuous as she dispensed the sum in sops to her tradesmen, and the +fact that a fresh order accompanied each payment did not lessen her +sense of disinterestedness. How many women, in her place, would +have given the orders without making the payment! + +She had found it reassuringly easy to keep Trenor in a good humour. +To listen to his stories, to receive his confidences and laugh at +his jokes, seemed for the moment all that was required of her, and +the complacency with which her hostess regarded these attentions +freed them of the least hint of ambiguity. Mrs. Trenor evidently +assumed that Lily’s growing intimacy with her husband was simply an +indirect way of returning her own kindness. + +“I’m so glad you and Gus have become such good friends,” she said +approvingly. “It’s too delightful of you to be so nice to him, and +put up with all his tiresome stories. I know what they are, because +I had to listen to them when we were engaged—I’m sure he is telling +the same ones still. And now I shan’t always have to be asking +Carry Fisher here to keep him in a good humour. She’s a perfect +vulture, you know; and she hasn’t the least moral sense. She is +always getting Gus to speculate for her, and I’m sure she never +pays when she loses.” + +Miss Bart could shudder at this state of things without the +embarrassment of a personal application. Her own position was +surely quite different. There could be no question of her not +paying when she lost, since Trenor had assured her that she was +certain not to lose. In sending her the cheque he had explained +that he had made five thousand for her out of Rosedale’s “tip,” and +had put four thousand back in the same venture, as there was the +promise of another “big rise”; she understood therefore that he +was now speculating with her own money, and that she consequently +owed him no more than the gratitude which such a trifling service +demanded. She vaguely supposed that, to raise the first sum, he had +borrowed on her securities; but this was a point over which her +curiosity did not linger. It was concentrated, for the moment, on +the probable date of the next “big rise.” + +The news of this event was received by her some weeks later, on +the occasion of Jack Stepney’s marriage to Miss Van Osburgh. As +a cousin of the bridegroom, Miss Bart had been asked to act as +bridesmaid; but she had declined on the plea that, since she was +much taller than the other attendant virgins, her presence might +mar the symmetry of the group. The truth was, she had attended too +many brides to the altar: when next seen there she meant to be the +chief figure in the ceremony. She knew the pleasantries made at the +expense of young girls who have been too long before the public, +and she was resolved to avoid such assumptions of youthfulness as +might lead people to think her older than she really was. + +The Van Osburgh marriage was celebrated in the village church near +the paternal estate on the Hudson. It was the “simple country +wedding” to which guests are convoyed in special trains, and +from which the hordes of the uninvited have to be fended off by +the intervention of the police. While these sylvan rites were +taking place, in a church packed with fashion and festooned with +orchids, the representatives of the press were threading their +way, note-book in hand, through the labyrinth of wedding presents, +and the agent of a cinematograph syndicate was setting up his +apparatus at the church door. It was the kind of scene in which +Lily had often pictured herself as taking the principal part, and +on this occasion the fact that she was once more merely a casual +spectator, instead of the mystically veiled figure occupying +the centre of attention, strengthened her resolve to assume the +latter part before the year was over. The fact that her immediate +anxieties were relieved did not blind her to a possibility of +their recurrence; it merely gave her enough buoyancy to rise once +more above her doubts and feel a renewed faith in her beauty, her +power, and her general fitness to attract a brilliant destiny. +It could not be that one conscious of such aptitudes for mastery +and enjoyment was doomed to a perpetuity of failure; and her +mistakes looked easily reparable in the light of her restored +self-confidence. + +A special appositeness was given to these reflections by the +discovery, in a neighbouring pew, of the serious profile and +neatly-trimmed beard of Mr. Percy Gryce. There was something +almost bridal in his own aspect: his large white gardenia had a +symbolic air that struck Lily as a good omen. After all, seen +in an assemblage of his kind he was not ridiculous-looking: a +friendly critic might have called his heaviness weighty, and he +was at his best in the attitude of vacant passivity which brings +out the oddities of the restless. She fancied he was the kind +of man whose sentimental associations would be stirred by the +conventional imagery of a wedding, and she pictured herself, in the +seclusion of the Van Osburgh conservatories, playing skillfully +upon sensibilities thus prepared for her touch. In fact, when she +looked at the other women about her, and recalled the image she +had brought away from her own glass, it did not seem as though any +special skill would be needed to repair her blunder and bring him +once more to her feet. + +The sight of Selden’s dark head, in a pew almost facing her, +disturbed for a moment the balance of her complacency. The rise of +her blood as their eyes met was succeeded by a contrary motion, +a wave of resistance and withdrawal. She did not wish to see him +again, not because she feared his influence, but because his +presence always had the effect of cheapening her aspirations, of +throwing her whole world out of focus. Besides, he was a living +reminder of the worst mistake in her career, and the fact that he +had been its cause did not soften her feelings toward him. She +could still imagine an ideal state of existence in which, all else +being superadded, intercourse with Selden might be the last touch +of luxury; but in the world as it was, such a privilege was likely +to cost more than it was worth. + +“Lily, dear, I never saw you look so lovely! You look as if +something delightful had just happened to you!” + +The young lady who thus formulated her admiration of her +brilliant friend did not, in her own person, suggest such happy +possibilities. Miss Gertrude Farish, in fact, typified the mediocre +and the ineffectual. If there were compensating qualities in her +wide frank glance and the freshness of her smile, these were +qualities which only the sympathetic observer would perceive +before noticing that her eyes were of a workaday grey and her lips +without haunting curves. Lily’s own view of her wavered between +pity for her limitations and impatience at her cheerful acceptance +of them. To Miss Bart, as to her mother, acquiescence in dinginess +was evidence of stupidity; and there were moments when, in the +consciousness of her own power to look and to be so exactly what +the occasion required, she almost felt that other girls were plain +and inferior from choice. Certainly no one need have confessed such +acquiescence in her lot as was revealed in the “useful” colour of +Gerty Farish’s gown and the subdued lines of her hat: it is almost +as stupid to let your clothes betray that you know you are ugly as +to have them proclaim that you think you are beautiful. + +Of course, being fatally poor and dingy, it was wise of Gerty to +have taken up philanthropy and symphony concerts; but there was +something irritating in her assumption that existence yielded no +higher pleasures, and that one might get as much interest and +excitement out of life in a cramped flat as in the splendours +of the Van Osburgh establishment. Today, however, her chirping +enthusiasms did not irritate Lily. They seemed only to throw her +own exceptionalness into becoming relief, and give a soaring +vastness to her scheme of life. + +“Do let us go and take a peep at the presents before everyone else +leaves the dining-room!” suggested Miss Farish, linking her arm in +her friend’s. It was characteristic of her to take a sentimental +and unenvious interest in all the details of a wedding: she was +the kind of person who always kept her handkerchief out during the +service, and departed clutching a box of wedding-cake. + +“Isn’t everything beautifully done?” she pursued, as they entered +the distant drawing-room assigned to the display of Miss Van +Osburgh’s bridal spoils. “I always say no one does things better +than cousin Grace! Did you ever taste anything more delicious than +that MOUSSE of lobster with champagne sauce? I made up my mind +weeks ago that I wouldn’t miss this wedding, and just fancy how +delightfully it all came about. When Lawrence Selden heard I was +coming, he insisted on fetching me himself and driving me to the +station, and when we go back this evening I am to dine with him at +Sherry’s. I really feel as excited as if I were getting married +myself!” + +Lily smiled: she knew that Selden had always been kind to his dull +cousin, and she had sometimes wondered why he wasted so much time +in such an unremunerative manner; but now the thought gave her a +vague pleasure. + +“Do you see him often?” she asked. + +“Yes; he is very good about dropping in on Sundays. And now and +then we do a play together; but lately I haven’t seen much of him. +He doesn’t look well, and he seems nervous and unsettled. The dear +fellow! I do wish he would marry some nice girl. I told him so +today, but he said he didn’t care for the really nice ones, and +the other kind didn’t care for him—but that was just his joke, of +course. He could never marry a girl who WASN’T nice. Oh, my dear, +did you ever see such pearls?” + +They had paused before the table on which the bride’s jewels were +displayed, and Lily’s heart gave an envious throb as she caught +the refraction of light from their surfaces—the milky gleam of +perfectly matched pearls, the flash of rubies relieved against +contrasting velvet, the intense blue rays of sapphires kindled into +light by surrounding diamonds: all these precious tints enhanced +and deepened by the varied art of their setting. The glow of the +stones warmed Lily’s veins like wine. More completely than any +other expression of wealth they symbolized the life she longed to +lead, the life of fastidious aloofness and refinement in which +every detail should have the finish of a jewel, and the whole form +a harmonious setting to her own jewel-like rareness. + +“Oh, Lily, do look at this diamond pendant—it’s as big as +a dinner-plate! Who can have given it?” Miss Farish bent +short-sightedly over the accompanying card. “MR. SIMON ROSEDALE. +What, that horrid man? Oh, yes—I remember he’s a friend of Jack’s, +and I suppose cousin Grace had to ask him here today; but she must +rather hate having to let Gwen accept such a present from him.” + +Lily smiled. She doubted Mrs. Van Osburgh’s reluctance, but was +aware of Miss Farish’s habit of ascribing her own delicacies of +feeling to the persons least likely to be encumbered by them. + +“Well, if Gwen doesn’t care to be seen wearing it she can always +exchange it for something else,” she remarked. + +“Ah, here is something so much prettier,” Miss Farish continued. +“Do look at this exquisite white sapphire. I’m sure the person who +chose it must have taken particular pains. What is the name? Percy +Gryce? Ah, then I’m not surprised!” She smiled significantly as +she replaced the card. “Of course you’ve heard that he’s perfectly +devoted to Evie Van Osburgh? Cousin Grace is so pleased about +it—it’s quite a romance! He met her first at the George Dorsets’, +only about six weeks ago, and it’s just the nicest possible +marriage for dear Evie. Oh, I don’t mean the money—of course she +has plenty of her own—but she’s such a quiet stay-at-home kind of +girl, and it seems he has just the same tastes; so they are exactly +suited to each other.” + +Lily stood staring vacantly at the white sapphire on its velvet +bed. Evie Van Osburgh and Percy Gryce? The names rang derisively +through her brain. EVIE VAN OSBURGH? The youngest, dumpiest, +dullest of the four dull and dumpy daughters whom Mrs. Van Osburgh, +with unsurpassed astuteness, had “placed” one by one in enviable +niches of existence! Ah, lucky girls who grow up in the shelter of +a mother’s love—a mother who knows how to contrive opportunities +without conceding favours, how to take advantage of propinquity +without allowing appetite to be dulled by habit! The cleverest girl +may miscalculate where her own interests are concerned, may yield +too much at one moment and withdraw too far at the next: it takes +a mother’s unerring vigilance and foresight to land her daughters +safely in the arms of wealth and suitability. + +Lily’s passing light-heartedness sank beneath a renewed sense of +failure. Life was too stupid, too blundering! Why should Percy +Gryce’s millions be joined to another great fortune, why should +this clumsy girl be put in possession of powers she would never +know how to use? + +She was roused from these speculations by a familiar touch on her +arm, and turning saw Gus Trenor beside her. She felt a thrill of +vexation: what right had he to touch her? Luckily Gerty Farish had +wandered off to the next table, and they were alone. + +Trenor, looking stouter than ever in his tight frock-coat, and +unbecomingly flushed by the bridal libations, gazed at her with +undisguised approval. + +“By Jove, Lily, you do look a stunner!” He had slipped insensibly +into the use of her Christian name, and she had never found the +right moment to correct him. Besides, in her set all the men and +women called each other by their Christian names; it was only +on Trenor’s lips that the familiar address had an unpleasant +significance. + +“Well,” he continued, still jovially impervious to her annoyance, +“have you made up your mind which of these little trinkets you mean +to duplicate at Tiffany’s tomorrow? I’ve got a cheque for you in my +pocket that will go a long way in that line!” + +Lily gave him a startled look: his voice was louder than usual, +and the room was beginning to fill with people. But as her glance +assured her that they were still beyond ear-shot a sense of +pleasure replaced her apprehension. + +“Another dividend?” she asked, smiling and drawing near him in the +desire not to be overheard. + +“Well, not exactly: I sold out on the rise and I’ve pulled off four +thou’ for you. Not so bad for a beginner, eh? I suppose you’ll +begin to think you’re a pretty knowing speculator. And perhaps you +won’t think poor old Gus such an awful ass as some people do.” + +“I think you the kindest of friends; but I can’t thank you properly +now.” + +She let her eyes shine into his with a look that made up for the +hand-clasp he would have claimed if they had been alone—and how +glad she was that they were not! The news filled her with the +glow produced by a sudden cessation of physical pain. The world +was not so stupid and blundering after all: now and then a stroke +of luck came to the unluckiest. At the thought her spirits began +to rise: it was characteristic of her that one trifling piece of +good fortune should give wings to all her hopes. Instantly came +the reflection that Percy Gryce was not irretrievably lost; and +she smiled to think of the excitement of recapturing him from +Evie Van Osburgh. What chance could such a simpleton have against +her if she chose to exert herself? She glanced about, hoping to +catch a glimpse of Gryce; but her eyes lit instead on the glossy +countenance of Mr. Rosedale, who was slipping through the crowd +with an air half obsequious, half obtrusive, as though, the moment +his presence was recognized, it would swell to the dimensions of +the room. + +Not wishing to be the means of effecting this enlargement, Lily +quickly transferred her glance to Trenor, to whom the expression of +her gratitude seemed not to have brought the complete gratification +she had meant it to give. + +“Hang thanking me—I don’t want to be thanked, but I SHOULD like +the chance to say two words to you now and then,” he grumbled. “I +thought you were going to spend the whole autumn with us, and I’ve +hardly laid eyes on you for the last month. Why can’t you come back +to Bellomont this evening? We’re all alone, and Judy is as cross +as two sticks. Do come and cheer a fellow up. If you say yes I’ll +run you over in the motor, and you can telephone your maid to bring +your traps from town by the next train.” + +Lily shook her head with a charming semblance of regret. “I wish I +could—but it’s quite impossible. My aunt has come back to town, and +I must be with her for the next few days.” + +“Well, I’ve seen a good deal less of you since we’ve got to be such +pals than I used to when you were Judy’s friend,” he continued with +unconscious penetration. + +“When I was Judy’s friend? Am I not her friend still? Really, you +say the most absurd things! If I were always at Bellomont you would +tire of me much sooner than Judy—but come and see me at my aunt’s +the next afternoon you are in town; then we can have a nice quiet +talk, and you can tell me how I had better invest my fortune.” + +It was true that, during the last three or four weeks, she had +absented herself from Bellomont on the pretext of having other +visits to pay; but she now began to feel that the reckoning she had +thus contrived to evade had rolled up interest in the interval. + +The prospect of the nice quiet talk did not appear as all-sufficing +to Trenor as she had hoped, and his brows continued to lower as he +said: “Oh, I don’t know that I can promise you a fresh tip every +day. But there’s one thing you might do for me; and that is, just +to be a little civil to Rosedale. Judy has promised to ask him to +dine when we get to town, but I can’t induce her to have him at +Bellomont, and if you would let me bring him up now it would make +a lot of difference. I don’t believe two women have spoken to him +this afternoon, and I can tell you he’s a chap it pays to be decent +to.” + +Miss Bart made an impatient movement, but suppressed the words +which seemed about to accompany it. After all, this was an +unexpectedly easy way of acquitting her debt; and had she not +reasons of her own for wishing to be civil to Mr. Rosedale? + +“Oh, bring him by all means,” she said smiling; “perhaps I can get +a tip out of him on my own account.” + +Trenor paused abruptly, and his eyes fixed themselves on hers with +a look which made her change colour. + +“I say, you know—you’ll please remember he’s a blooming bounder,” +he said; and with a slight laugh she turned toward the open window +near which they had been standing. + +The throng in the room had increased, and she felt a desire for +space and fresh air. Both of these she found on the terrace, where +only a few men were lingering over cigarettes and liqueur, while +scattered couples strolled across the lawn to the autumn-tinted +borders of the flower-garden. + +As she emerged, a man moved toward her from the knot of smokers, +and she found herself face to face with Selden. The stir of the +pulses which his nearness always caused was increased by a slight +sense of constraint. They had not met since their Sunday afternoon +walk at Bellomont, and that episode was still so vivid to her +that she could hardly believe him to be less conscious of it. But +his greeting expressed no more than the satisfaction which every +pretty woman expects to see reflected in masculine eyes; and the +discovery, if distasteful to her vanity, was reassuring to her +nerves. Between the relief of her escape from Trenor, and the vague +apprehension of her meeting with Rosedale, it was pleasant to rest +a moment on the sense of complete understanding which Lawrence +Selden’s manner always conveyed. + +“This is luck,” he said smiling. “I was wondering if I should be +able to have a word with you before the special snatches us away. I +came with Gerty Farish, and promised not to let her miss the train, +but I am sure she is still extracting sentimental solace from the +wedding presents. She appears to regard their number and value as +evidence of the disinterested affection of the contracting parties.” + +There was not the least trace of embarrassment in his voice, and +as he spoke, leaning slightly against the jamb of the window, and +letting his eyes rest on her in the frank enjoyment of her grace, +she felt with a faint chill of regret that he had gone back without +an effort to the footing on which they had stood before their last +talk together. Her vanity was stung by the sight of his unscathed +smile. She longed to be to him something more than a piece of +sentient prettiness, a passing diversion to his eye and brain; and +the longing betrayed itself in her reply. + +“Ah,” she said, “I envy Gerty that power she has of dressing +up with romance all our ugly and prosaic arrangements! I have +never recovered my self-respect since you showed me how poor and +unimportant my ambitions were.” + +The words were hardly spoken when she realized their infelicity. It +seemed to be her fate to appear at her worst to Selden. + +“I thought, on the contrary,” he returned lightly, “that I had been +the means of proving they were more important to you than anything +else.” + +It was as if the eager current of her being had been checked by +a sudden obstacle which drove it back upon itself. She looked at +him helplessly, like a hurt or frightened child: this real self of +hers, which he had the faculty of drawing out of the depths, was so +little accustomed to go alone! + +The appeal of her helplessness touched in him, as it always did, +a latent chord of inclination. It would have meant nothing to him +to discover that his nearness made her more brilliant, but this +glimpse of a twilight mood to which he alone had the clue seemed +once more to set him in a world apart with her. + +“At least you can’t think worse things of me than you say!” she +exclaimed with a trembling laugh; but before he could answer, the +flow of comprehension between them was abruptly stayed by the +reappearance of Gus Trenor, who advanced with Mr. Rosedale in his +wake. + +“Hang it, Lily, I thought you’d given me the slip: Rosedale and I +have been hunting all over for you!” + +His voice had a note of conjugal familiarity: Miss Bart fancied she +detected in Rosedale’s eye a twinkling perception of the fact, and +the idea turned her dislike of him to repugnance. + +She returned his profound bow with a slight nod, made more +disdainful by the sense of Selden’s surprise that she should number +Rosedale among her acquaintances. Trenor had turned away, and his +companion continued to stand before Miss Bart, alert and expectant, +his lips parted in a smile at whatever she might be about to say, +and his very back conscious of the privilege of being seen with her. + +It was the moment for tact; for the quick bridging over of gaps; +but Selden still leaned against the window, a detached observer +of the scene, and under the spell of his observation Lily felt +herself powerless to exert her usual arts. The dread of Selden’s +suspecting that there was any need for her to propitiate such a man +as Rosedale checked the trivial phrases of politeness. Rosedale +still stood before her in an expectant attitude, and she continued +to face him in silence, her glance just level with his polished +baldness. The look put the finishing touch to what her silence +implied. + +He reddened slowly, shifting from one foot to the other, fingered +the plump black pearl in his tie, and gave a nervous twist to his +moustache; then, running his eye over her, he drew back, and said, +with a side-glance at Selden: “Upon my soul, I never saw a more +ripping get-up. Is that the last creation of the dress-maker you go +to see at the Benedick? If so, I wonder all the other women don’t +go to her too!” + +The words were projected sharply against Lily’s silence, and she +saw in a flash that her own act had given them their emphasis. In +ordinary talk they might have passed unheeded; but following on +her prolonged pause they acquired a special meaning. She felt, +without looking, that Selden had immediately seized it, and would +inevitably connect the allusion with her visit to himself. The +consciousness increased her irritation against Rosedale, but also +her feeling that now, if ever, was the moment to propitiate him, +hateful as it was to do so in Selden’s presence. + +“How do you know the other women don’t go to my dress-maker?” +she returned. “You see I’m not afraid to give her address to my +friends!” + +Her glance and accent so plainly included Rosedale in this +privileged circle that his small eyes puckered with gratification, +and a knowing smile drew up his moustache. + +“By Jove, you needn’t be!” he declared. “You could give ’em the +whole outfit and win at a canter!” + +“Ah, that’s nice of you; and it would be nicer still if you would +carry me off to a quiet corner, and get me a glass of lemonade or +some innocent drink before we all have to rush for the train.” + +She turned away as she spoke, letting him strut at her side through +the gathering groups on the terrace, while every nerve in her +throbbed with the consciousness of what Selden must have thought of +the scene. + +But under her angry sense of the perverseness of things, and the +light surface of her talk with Rosedale, a third idea persisted: +she did not mean to leave without an attempt to discover the truth +about Percy Gryce. Chance, or perhaps his own resolve, had kept +them apart since his hasty withdrawal from Bellomont; but Miss +Bart was an expert in making the most of the unexpected, and the +distasteful incidents of the last few minutes—the revelation to +Selden of precisely that part of her life which she most wished +him to ignore—increased her longing for shelter, for escape from +such humiliating contingencies. Any definite situation would be +more tolerable than this buffeting of chances, which kept her in an +attitude of uneasy alertness toward every possibility of life. + +Indoors there was a general sense of dispersal in the air, as of +an audience gathering itself up for departure after the principal +actors had left the stage; but among the remaining groups, Lily +could discover neither Gryce nor the youngest Miss Van Osburgh. +That both should be missing struck her with foreboding; and she +charmed Mr. Rosedale by proposing that they should make their +way to the conservatories at the farther end of the house. +There were just enough people left in the long suite of rooms +to make their progress conspicuous, and Lily was aware of being +followed by looks of amusement and interrogation, which glanced +off as harmlessly from her indifference as from her companion’s +self-satisfaction. She cared very little at that moment about +being seen with Rosedale: all her thoughts were centred on the +object of her search. The latter, however, was not discoverable +in the conservatories, and Lily, oppressed by a sudden conviction +of failure, was casting about for a way to rid herself of her +now superfluous companion, when they came upon Mrs. Van Osburgh, +flushed and exhausted, but beaming with the consciousness of duty +performed. + +She glanced at them a moment with the benign but vacant eye of the +tired hostess, to whom her guests have become mere whirling spots +in a kaleidoscope of fatigue; then her attention became suddenly +fixed, and she seized on Miss Bart with a confidential gesture. +“My dear Lily, I haven’t had time for a word with you, and now I +suppose you are just off. Have you seen Evie? She’s been looking +everywhere for you: she wanted to tell you her little secret; +but I daresay you have guessed it already. The engagement is not +to be announced till next week—but you are such a friend of Mr. +Gryce’s that they both wished you to be the first to know of their +happiness.” + + + + +Chapter 9 + + +In Mrs. Peniston’s youth, fashion had returned to town in October; +therefore on the tenth day of the month the blinds of her Fifth +Avenue residence were drawn up, and the eyes of the Dying Gladiator +in bronze who occupied the drawing-room window resumed their survey +of that deserted thoroughfare. + +The first two weeks after her return represented to Mrs. Peniston +the domestic equivalent of a religious retreat. She “went through” +the linen and blankets in the precise spirit of the penitent +exploring the inner folds of conscience; she sought for moths +as the stricken soul seeks for lurking infirmities. The topmost +shelf of every closet was made to yield up its secret, cellar and +coal-bin were probed to their darkest depths and, as a final stage +in the lustral rites, the entire house was swathed in penitential +white and deluged with expiatory soapsuds. + +It was on this phase of the proceedings that Miss Bart entered +on the afternoon of her return from the Van Osburgh wedding. The +journey back to town had not been calculated to soothe her nerves. +Though Evie Van Osburgh’s engagement was still officially a secret, +it was one of which the innumerable intimate friends of the family +were already possessed; and the trainful of returning guests buzzed +with allusions and anticipations. Lily was acutely aware of her +own part in this drama of innuendo: she knew the exact quality +of the amusement the situation evoked. The crude forms in which +her friends took their pleasure included a loud enjoyment of such +complications: the zest of surprising destiny in the act of playing +a practical joke. Lily knew well enough how to bear herself in +difficult situations. She had, to a shade, the exact manner between +victory and defeat: every insinuation was shed without an effort +by the bright indifference of her manner. But she was beginning to +feel the strain of the attitude; the reaction was more rapid, and +she lapsed to a deeper self-disgust. + + +As was always the case with her, this moral repulsion found a +physical outlet in a quickened distaste for her surroundings. She +revolted from the complacent ugliness of Mrs. Peniston’s black +walnut, from the slippery gloss of the vestibule tiles, and the +mingled odour of sapolio and furniture-polish that met her at the +door. + +The stairs were still carpetless, and on the way up to her room she +was arrested on the landing by an encroaching tide of soapsuds. +Gathering up her skirts, she drew aside with an impatient gesture; +and as she did so she had the odd sensation of having already found +herself in the same situation but in different surroundings. It +seemed to her that she was again descending the staircase from +Selden’s rooms; and looking down to remonstrate with the dispenser +of the soapy flood, she found herself met by a lifted stare which +had once before confronted her under similar circumstances. It was +the char-woman of the Benedick who, resting on crimson elbows, +examined her with the same unflinching curiosity, the same apparent +reluctance to let her pass. On this occasion, however, Miss Bart +was on her own ground. + +“Don’t you see that I wish to go by? Please move your pail,” she +said sharply. + +The woman at first seemed not to hear; then, without a word of +excuse, she pushed back her pail and dragged a wet floor-cloth +across the landing, keeping her eyes fixed on Lily while the latter +swept by. It was insufferable that Mrs. Peniston should have such +creatures about the house; and Lily entered her room resolved that +the woman should be dismissed that evening. + +Mrs. Peniston, however, was at the moment inaccessible to +remonstrance: since early morning she had been shut up with her +maid, going over her furs, a process which formed the culminating +episode in the drama of household renovation. In the evening also +Lily found herself alone, for her aunt, who rarely dined out, had +responded to the summons of a Van Alstyne cousin who was passing +through town. The house, in its state of unnatural immaculateness +and order, was as dreary as a tomb, and as Lily, turning from +her brief repast between shrouded sideboards, wandered into the +newly-uncovered glare of the drawing-room she felt as though +she were buried alive in the stifling limits of Mrs. Peniston’s +existence. + +She usually contrived to avoid being at home during the season +of domestic renewal. On the present occasion, however, a variety +of reasons had combined to bring her to town; and foremost among +them was the fact that she had fewer invitations than usual for +the autumn. She had so long been accustomed to pass from one +country-house to another, till the close of the holidays brought +her friends to town, that the unfilled gaps of time confronting +her produced a sharp sense of waning popularity. It was as she +had said to Selden—people were tired of her. They would welcome +her in a new character, but as Miss Bart they knew her by heart. +She knew herself by heart too, and was sick of the old story. +There were moments when she longed blindly for anything different, +anything strange, remote and untried; but the utmost reach of +her imagination did not go beyond picturing her usual life in a +new setting. She could not figure herself as anywhere but in a +drawing-room, diffusing elegance as a flower sheds perfume. + +Meanwhile, as October advanced she had to face the alternative +of returning to the Trenors or joining her aunt in town. Even +the desolating dulness of New York in October, and the soapy +discomforts of Mrs. Peniston’s interior, seemed preferable to what +might await her at Bellomont; and with an air of heroic devotion +she announced her intention of remaining with her aunt till the +holidays. + +Sacrifices of this nature are sometimes received with feelings as +mixed as those which actuate them; and Mrs. Peniston remarked to +her confidential maid that, if any of the family were to be with +her at such a crisis (though for forty years she had been thought +competent to see to the hanging of her own curtains), she would +certainly have preferred Miss Grace to Miss Lily. Grace Stepney was +an obscure cousin, of adaptable manners and vicarious interests, +who “ran in” to sit with Mrs. Peniston when Lily dined out too +continuously; who played bezique, picked up dropped stitches, read +out the deaths from the Times, and sincerely admired the purple +satin drawing-room curtains, the Dying Gladiator in the window, and +the seven-by-five painting of Niagara which represented the one +artistic excess of Mr. Peniston’s temperate career. + +Mrs. Peniston, under ordinary circumstances, was as much bored by +her excellent cousin as the recipient of such services usually +is by the person who performs them. She greatly preferred the +brilliant and unreliable Lily, who did not know one end of a +crochet-needle from the other, and had frequently wounded her +susceptibilities by suggesting that the drawing-room should be +“done over.” But when it came to hunting for missing napkins, or +helping to decide whether the backstairs needed re-carpeting, +Grace’s judgment was certainly sounder than Lily’s: not to mention +the fact that the latter resented the smell of beeswax and brown +soap, and behaved as though she thought a house ought to keep clean +of itself, without extraneous assistance. + +Seated under the cheerless blaze of the drawing-room +chandelier—Mrs. Peniston never lit the lamps unless there was +“company”—Lily seemed to watch her own figure retreating down +vistas of neutral-tinted dulness to a middle-age like Grace +Stepney’s. When she ceased to amuse Judy Trenor and her friends she +would have to fall back on amusing Mrs. Peniston; whichever way she +looked she saw only a future of servitude to the whims of others, +never the possibility of asserting her own eager individuality. + +A ring at the door-bell, sounding emphatically through the empty +house, roused her suddenly to the extent of her boredom. It was +as though all the weariness of the past months had culminated in +the vacuity of that interminable evening. If only the ring meant a +summons from the outer world—a token that she was still remembered +and wanted! + +After some delay a parlour-maid presented herself with the +announcement that there was a person outside who was asking to see +Miss Bart; and on Lily’s pressing for a more specific description, +she added: + +“It’s Mrs. Haffen, Miss; she won’t say what she wants.” + +Lily, to whom the name conveyed nothing, opened the door upon a +woman in a battered bonnet, who stood firmly planted under the +hall-light. The glare of the unshaded gas shone familiarly on her +pock-marked face and the reddish baldness visible through thin +strands of straw-coloured hair. Lily looked at the char-woman in +surprise. + +“Do you wish to see me?” she asked. + +“I should like to say a word to you, Miss.” The tone was neither +aggressive nor conciliatory: it revealed nothing of the speaker’s +errand. Nevertheless, some precautionary instinct warned Lily to +withdraw beyond ear-shot of the hovering parlour-maid. + +She signed to Mrs. Haffen to follow her into the drawing-room, and +closed the door when they had entered. + +“What is it that you wish?” she enquired. + +The char-woman, after the manner of her kind, stood with her arms +folded in her shawl. Unwinding the latter, she produced a small +parcel wrapped in dirty newspaper. + +“I have something here that you might like to see, Miss Bart.” +She spoke the name with an unpleasant emphasis, as though her +knowing it made a part of her reason for being there. To Lily the +intonation sounded like a threat. + +“You have found something belonging to me?” she asked, extending +her hand. + +Mrs. Haffen drew back. “Well, if it comes to that, I guess it’s +mine as much as anybody’s,” she returned. + +Lily looked at her perplexedly. She was sure, now, that her +visitor’s manner conveyed a threat; but, expert as she was in +certain directions, there was nothing in her experience to prepare +her for the exact significance of the present scene. She felt, +however, that it must be ended as promptly as possible. + +“I don’t understand; if this parcel is not mine, why have you asked +for me?” + +The woman was unabashed by the question. She was evidently prepared +to answer it, but like all her class she had to go a long way +back to make a beginning, and it was only after a pause that she +replied: “My husband was janitor to the Benedick till the first of +the month; since then he can’t get nothing to do.” + +Lily remained silent and she continued: “It wasn’t no fault of our +own, neither: the agent had another man he wanted the place for, +and we was put out, bag and baggage, just to suit his fancy. I had +a long sickness last winter, and an operation that ate up all we’d +put by; and it’s hard for me and the children, Haffen being so long +out of a job.” + +After all, then, she had come only to ask Miss Bart to find a +place for her husband; or, more probably, to seek the young lady’s +intervention with Mrs. Peniston. Lily had such an air of always +getting what she wanted that she was used to being appealed to as +an intermediary, and, relieved of her vague apprehension, she took +refuge in the conventional formula. + +“I am sorry you have been in trouble,” she said. + +“Oh, that we have, Miss, and it’s on’y just beginning. If on’y we’d +’a got another situation—but the agent, he’s dead against us. It +ain’t no fault of ours, neither, but——” + +At this point Lily’s impatience overcame her. “If you have anything +to say to me——” she interposed. + +The woman’s resentment of the rebuff seemed to spur her lagging +ideas. + +“Yes, Miss; I’m coming to that,” she said. She paused again, +with her eyes on Lily, and then continued, in a tone of diffuse +narrative: “When we was at the Benedick I had charge of some of the +gentlemen’s rooms; leastways, I swep’ ’em out on Saturdays. Some +of the gentlemen got the greatest sight of letters: I never saw +the like of it. Their waste-paper baskets ’d be fairly brimming, +and papers falling over on the floor. Maybe havin’ so many is how +they get so careless. Some of ’em is worse than others. Mr. Selden, +Mr. Lawrence Selden, he was always one of the carefullest: burnt +his letters in winter, and tore ’em in little bits in summer. But +sometimes he’d have so many he’d just bunch ’em together, the way +the others did, and tear the lot through once—like this.” + +While she spoke she had loosened the string from the parcel in her +hand, and now she drew forth a letter which she laid on the table +between Miss Bart and herself. As she had said, the letter was torn +in two; but with a rapid gesture she laid the torn edges together +and smoothed out the page. + +A wave of indignation swept over Lily. She felt herself in the +presence of something vile, as yet but dimly conjectured—the kind +of vileness of which people whispered, but which she had never +thought of as touching her own life. She drew back with a motion +of disgust, but her withdrawal was checked by a sudden discovery: +under the glare of Mrs. Peniston’s chandelier she had recognized +the hand-writing of the letter. It was a large disjointed hand, +with a flourish of masculinity which but slightly disguised +its rambling weakness, and the words, scrawled in heavy ink on +pale-tinted notepaper, smote on Lily’s ear as though she had heard +them spoken. + +At first she did not grasp the full import of the situation. She +understood only that before her lay a letter written by Bertha +Dorset, and addressed, presumably, to Lawrence Selden. There was +no date, but the blackness of the ink proved the writing to be +comparatively recent. The packet in Mrs. Haffen’s hand doubtless +contained more letters of the same kind—a dozen, Lily conjectured +from its thickness. The letter before her was short, but its few +words, which had leapt into her brain before she was conscious +of reading them, told a long history—a history over which, for +the last four years, the friends of the writer had smiled and +shrugged, viewing it merely as one among the countless “good +situations” of the mundane comedy. Now the other side presented +itself to Lily, the volcanic nether side of the surface over which +conjecture and innuendo glide so lightly till the first fissure +turns their whisper to a shriek. Lily knew that there is nothing +society resents so much as having given its protection to those who +have not known how to profit by it: it is for having betrayed its +connivance that the body social punishes the offender who is found +out. And in this case there was no doubt of the issue. The code +of Lily’s world decreed that a woman’s husband should be the only +judge of her conduct: she was technically above suspicion while +she had the shelter of his approval, or even of his indifference. +But with a man of George Dorset’s temper there could be no thought +of condonation—the possessor of his wife’s letters could overthrow +with a touch the whole structure of her existence. And into what +hands Bertha Dorset’s secret had been delivered! For a moment the +irony of the coincidence tinged Lily’s disgust with a confused +sense of triumph. But the disgust prevailed—all her instinctive +resistances, of taste, of training, of blind inherited scruples, +rose against the other feeling. Her strongest sense was one of +personal contamination. + +She moved away, as though to put as much distance as possible +between herself and her visitor. “I know nothing of these letters,” +she said; “I have no idea why you have brought them here.” + +Mrs. Haffen faced her steadily. “I’ll tell you why, Miss. I brought +’em to you to sell, because I ain’t got no other way of raising +money, and if we don’t pay our rent by tomorrow night we’ll be put +out. I never done anythin’ of the kind before, and if you’d speak +to Mr. Selden or to Mr. Rosedale about getting Haffen taken on +again at the Benedick—I seen you talking to Mr. Rosedale on the +steps that day you come out of Mr. Selden’s rooms——” + +The blood rushed to Lily’s forehead. She understood now—Mrs. Haffen +supposed her to be the writer of the letters. In the first leap +of her anger she was about to ring and order the woman out; but +an obscure impulse restrained her. The mention of Selden’s name +had started a new train of thought. Bertha Dorset’s letters were +nothing to her—they might go where the current of chance carried +them! But Selden was inextricably involved in their fate. Men +do not, at worst, suffer much from such exposure; and in this +instance the flash of divination which had carried the meaning +of the letters to Lily’s brain had revealed also that they were +appeals—repeated and therefore probably unanswered—for the renewal +of a tie which time had evidently relaxed. Nevertheless, the fact +that the correspondence had been allowed to fall into strange hands +would convict Selden of negligence in a matter where the world +holds it least pardonable; and there were graver risks to consider +where a man of Dorset’s ticklish balance was concerned. + +If she weighed all these things it was unconsciously: she was +aware only of feeling that Selden would wish the letters rescued, +and that therefore she must obtain possession of them. Beyond +that her mind did not travel. She had, indeed, a quick vision of +returning the packet to Bertha Dorset, and of the opportunities the +restitution offered; but this thought lit up abysses from which she +shrank back ashamed. + +Meanwhile Mrs. Haffen, prompt to perceive her hesitation, had +already opened the packet and ranged its contents on the table. All +the letters had been pieced together with strips of thin paper. +Some were in small fragments, the others merely torn in half. +Though there were not many, thus spread out they nearly covered the +table. Lily’s glance fell on a word here and there—then she said in +a low voice: “What do you wish me to pay you?” + +Mrs. Haffen’s face reddened with satisfaction. It was clear that +the young lady was badly frightened, and Mrs. Haffen was the woman +to make the most of such fears. Anticipating an easier victory than +she had foreseen, she named an exorbitant sum. + +But Miss Bart showed herself a less ready prey than might have been +expected from her imprudent opening. She refused to pay the price +named, and after a moment’s hesitation, met it by a counter-offer +of half the amount. + +Mrs. Haffen immediately stiffened. Her hand travelled toward the +outspread letters, and folding them slowly, she made as though to +restore them to their wrapping. + +“I guess they’re worth more to you than to me, Miss, but the poor +has got to live as well as the rich,” she observed sententiously. + + +Lily was throbbing with fear, but the insinuation fortified her +resistance. + +“You are mistaken,” she said indifferently. “I have offered all I +am willing to give for the letters; but there may be other ways of +getting them.” + +Mrs. Haffen raised a suspicious glance: she was too experienced not +to know that the traffic she was engaged in had perils as great as +its rewards, and she had a vision of the elaborate machinery of +revenge which a word of this commanding young lady’s might set in +motion. + +She applied the corner of her shawl to her eyes, and murmured +through it that no good came of bearing too hard on the poor, but +that for her part she had never been mixed up in such a business +before, and that on her honour as a Christian all she and Haffen +had thought of was that the letters mustn’t go any farther. + +Lily stood motionless, keeping between herself and the char-woman +the greatest distance compatible with the need of speaking in low +tones. The idea of bargaining for the letters was intolerable to +her, but she knew that, if she appeared to weaken, Mrs. Haffen +would at once increase her original demand. + +She could never afterward recall how long the duel lasted, or +what was the decisive stroke which finally, after a lapse of time +recorded in minutes by the clock, in hours by the precipitate beat +of her pulses, put her in possession of the letters; she knew only +that the door had finally closed, and that she stood alone with the +packet in her hand. + +She had no idea of reading the letters; even to unfold Mrs. +Haffen’s dirty newspaper would have seemed degrading. But what did +she intend to do with its contents? The recipient of the letters +had meant to destroy them, and it was her duty to carry out his +intention. She had no right to keep them—to do so was to lessen +whatever merit lay in having secured their possession. But how +destroy them so effectually that there should be no second risk of +their falling in such hands? Mrs. Peniston’s icy drawing-room grate +shone with a forbidding lustre: the fire, like the lamps, was never +lit except when there was company. + +Miss Bart was turning to carry the letters upstairs when she +heard the opening of the outer door, and her aunt entered the +drawing-room. Mrs. Peniston was a small plump woman, with a +colourless skin lined with trivial wrinkles. Her grey hair was +arranged with precision, and her clothes looked excessively new +and yet slightly old-fashioned. They were always black and tightly +fitting, with an expensive glitter: she was the kind of woman who +wore jet at breakfast. Lily had never seen her when she was not +cuirassed in shining black, with small tight boots, and an air of +being packed and ready to start; yet she never started. + +She looked about the drawing-room with an expression of minute +scrutiny. “I saw a streak of light under one of the blinds as I +drove up: it’s extraordinary that I can never teach that woman to +draw them down evenly.” + +Having corrected the irregularity, she seated herself on one of +the glossy purple arm-chairs; Mrs. Peniston always sat on a chair, +never in it. + +Then she turned her glance to Miss Bart. “My dear, you look tired; +I suppose it’s the excitement of the wedding. Cornelia Van Alstyne +was full of it: Molly was there, and Gerty Farish ran in for a +minute to tell us about it. I think it was odd, their serving +melons before the CONSOMME: a wedding breakfast should always begin +with CONSOMME. Molly didn’t care for the bridesmaids’ dresses. She +had it straight from Julia Melson that they cost three hundred +dollars apiece at Celeste’s, but she says they didn’t look it. I’m +glad you decided not to be a bridesmaid; that shade of salmon-pink +wouldn’t have suited you.” Mrs. Peniston delighted in discussing +the minutest details of festivities in which she had not taken +part. Nothing would have induced her to undergo the exertion and +fatigue of attending the Van Osburgh wedding, but so great was her +interest in the event that, having heard two versions of it, she +now prepared to extract a third from her niece. Lily, however, +had been deplorably careless in noting the particulars of the +entertainment. She had failed to observe the colour of Mrs. Van +Osburgh’s gown, and could not even say whether the old Van Osburgh +Sevres had been used at the bride’s table: Mrs. Peniston, in short, +found that she was of more service as a listener than as a narrator. + +“Really, Lily, I don’t see why you took the trouble to go to the +wedding, if you don’t remember what happened or whom you saw there. +When I was a girl I used to keep the MENU of every dinner I went +to, and write the names of the people on the back; and I never +threw away my cotillion favours till after your uncle’s death, +when it seemed unsuitable to have so many coloured things about +the house. I had a whole closet-full, I remember; and I can tell +to this day what balls I got them at. Molly Van Alstyne reminds me +of what I was at that age; it’s wonderful how she notices. She was +able to tell her mother exactly how the wedding-dress was cut, and +we knew at once, from the fold in the back, that it must have come +from Paquin.” + +Mrs. Peniston rose abruptly, and, advancing to the ormolu +clock surmounted by a helmeted Minerva, which throned on the +chimney-piece between two malachite vases, passed her lace +handkerchief between the helmet and its visor. + +“I knew it—the parlour-maid never dusts there!” she exclaimed, +triumphantly displaying a minute spot on the handkerchief; then, +reseating herself, she went on: “Molly thought Mrs. Dorset the +best-dressed woman at the wedding. I’ve no doubt her dress DID +cost more than any one else’s, but I can’t quite like the idea—a +combination of sable and POINT DE MILAN. It seems she goes to a new +man in Paris, who won’t take an order till his client has spent a +day with him at his villa at Neuilly. He says he must study his +subject’s home life—a most peculiar arrangement, I should say! +But Mrs. Dorset told Molly about it herself: she said the villa +was full of the most exquisite things and she was really sorry to +leave. Molly said she never saw her looking better; she was in +tremendous spirits, and said she had made a match between Evie +Van Osburgh and Percy Gryce. She really seems to have a very good +influence on young men. I hear she is interesting herself now in +that silly Silverton boy, who has had his head turned by Carry +Fisher, and has been gambling so dreadfully. Well, as I was saying, +Evie is really engaged: Mrs. Dorset had her to stay with Percy +Gryce, and managed it all, and Grace Van Osburgh is in the seventh +heaven—she had almost despaired of marrying Evie.” + +Mrs. Peniston again paused, but this time her scrutiny addressed +itself, not to the furniture, but to her niece. + +“Cornelia Van Alstyne was so surprised: she had heard that you +were to marry young Gryce. She saw the Wetheralls just after they +had stopped with you at Bellomont, and Alice Wetherall was quite +sure there was an engagement. She said that when Mr. Gryce left +unexpectedly one morning, they all thought he had rushed to town +for the ring.” + +Lily rose and moved toward the door. + +“I believe I AM tired: I think I will go to bed,” she said; and +Mrs. Peniston, suddenly distracted by the discovery that the easel +sustaining the late Mr. Peniston’s crayon-portrait was not exactly +in line with the sofa in front of it, presented an absent-minded +brow to her kiss. + +In her own room Lily turned up the gas-jet and glanced toward the +grate. It was as brilliantly polished as the one below, but here at +least she could burn a few papers with less risk of incurring her +aunt’s disapproval. She made no immediate motion to do so, however, +but dropping into a chair looked wearily about her. Her room was +large and comfortably-furnished—it was the envy and admiration of +poor Grace Stepney, who boarded; but, contrasted with the light +tints and luxurious appointments of the guest-rooms where so many +weeks of Lily’s existence were spent, it seemed as dreary as a +prison. The monumental wardrobe and bedstead of black walnut had +migrated from Mr. Peniston’s bedroom, and the magenta “flock” +wall-paper, of a pattern dear to the early ’sixties, was hung with +large steel engravings of an anecdotic character. Lily had tried to +mitigate this charmless background by a few frivolous touches, in +the shape of a lace-decked toilet table and a little painted desk +surmounted by photographs; but the futility of the attempt struck +her as she looked about the room. What a contrast to the subtle +elegance of the setting she had pictured for herself—an apartment +which should surpass the complicated luxury of her friends’ +surroundings by the whole extent of that artistic sensibility +which made her feel herself their superior; in which every tint +and line should combine to enhance her beauty and give distinction +to her leisure! Once more the haunting sense of physical ugliness +was intensified by her mental depression, so that each piece of +the offending furniture seemed to thrust forth its most aggressive +angle. + +Her aunt’s words had told her nothing new; but they had revived the +vision of Bertha Dorset, smiling, flattered, victorious, holding +her up to ridicule by insinuations intelligible to every member of +their little group. The thought of the ridicule struck deeper than +any other sensation: Lily knew every turn of the allusive jargon +which could flay its victims without the shedding of blood. Her +cheek burned at the recollection, and she rose and caught up the +letters. She no longer meant to destroy them: that intention had +been effaced by the quick corrosion of Mrs. Peniston’s words. + +Instead, she approached her desk, and lighting a taper, tied +and sealed the packet; then she opened the wardrobe, drew out a +despatch-box, and deposited the letters within it. As she did so, +it struck her with a flash of irony that she was indebted to Gus +Trenor for the means of buying them. + + + + +Chapter 10 + + +The autumn dragged on monotonously. Miss Bart had received one or +two notes from Judy Trenor, reproaching her for not returning to +Bellomont; but she replied evasively, alleging the obligation to +remain with her aunt. In truth, however, she was fast wearying of +her solitary existence with Mrs. Peniston, and only the excitement +of spending her newly-acquired money lightened the dulness of the +days. + +All her life Lily had seen money go out as quickly as it came in, +and whatever theories she cultivated as to the prudence of setting +aside a part of her gains, she had unhappily no saving vision of +the risks of the opposite course. It was a keen satisfaction to +feel that, for a few months at least, she would be independent of +her friends’ bounty, that she could show herself abroad without +wondering whether some penetrating eye would detect in her dress +the traces of Judy Trenor’s refurbished splendour. The fact that +the money freed her temporarily from all minor obligations obscured +her sense of the greater one it represented, and having never +before known what it was to command so large a sum, she lingered +delectably over the amusement of spending it. + +It was on one of these occasions that, leaving a shop where she +had spent an hour of deliberation over a dressing-case of the most +complicated elegance, she ran across Miss Farish, who had entered +the same establishment with the modest object of having her watch +repaired. Lily was feeling unusually virtuous. She had decided to +defer the purchase of the dressing-case till she should receive +the bill for her new opera cloak, and the resolve made her feel +much richer than when she had entered the shop. In this mood of +self-approval she had a sympathetic eye for others, and she was +struck by her friend’s air of dejection. + +Miss Farish, it appeared, had just left the committee-meeting +of a struggling charity in which she was interested. The object +of the association was to provide comfortable lodgings, with a +reading-room and other modest distractions, where young women of +the class employed in downtown offices might find a home when +out of work, or in need of rest, and the first year’s financial +report showed so deplorably small a balance that Miss Farish, who +was convinced of the urgency of the work, felt proportionately +discouraged by the small amount of interest it aroused. The +other-regarding sentiments had not been cultivated in Lily, and +she was often bored by the relation of her friend’s philanthropic +efforts, but today her quick dramatizing fancy seized on the +contrast between her own situation and that represented by some of +Gerty’s “cases.” These were young girls, like herself; some perhaps +pretty, some not without a trace of her finer sensibilities. She +pictured herself leading such a life as theirs—a life in which +achievement seemed as squalid as failure—and the vision made her +shudder sympathetically. The price of the dressing-case was still +in her pocket; and drawing out her little gold purse she slipped a +liberal fraction of the amount into Miss Farish’s hand. + +The satisfaction derived from this act was all that the most ardent +moralist could have desired. Lily felt a new interest in herself as +a person of charitable instincts: she had never before thought of +doing good with the wealth she had so often dreamed of possessing, +but now her horizon was enlarged by the vision of a prodigal +philanthropy. Moreover, by some obscure process of logic, she felt +that her momentary burst of generosity had justified all previous +extravagances, and excused any in which she might subsequently +indulge. Miss Farish’s surprise and gratitude confirmed this +feeling, and Lily parted from her with a sense of self-esteem which +she naturally mistook for the fruits of altruism. + +About this time she was farther cheered by an invitation to spend +the Thanksgiving week at a camp in the Adirondacks. The invitation +was one which, a year earlier, would have provoked a less ready +response, for the party, though organized by Mrs. Fisher, was +ostensibly given by a lady of obscure origin and indomitable social +ambitions, whose acquaintance Lily had hitherto avoided. Now, +however, she was disposed to coincide with Mrs. Fisher’s view, that +it didn’t matter who gave the party, as long as things were well +done; and doing things well (under competent direction) was Mrs. +Wellington Bry’s strong point. The lady (whose consort was known +as “Welly” Bry on the Stock Exchange and in sporting circles) had +already sacrificed one husband, and sundry minor considerations, to +her determination to get on; and, having obtained a hold on Carry +Fisher, she was astute enough to perceive the wisdom of committing +herself entirely to that lady’s guidance. Everything, accordingly, +was well done, for there was no limit to Mrs. Fisher’s prodigality +when she was not spending her own money, and as she remarked to her +pupil, a good cook was the best introduction to society. If the +company was not as select as the CUISINE, the Welly Brys at least +had the satisfaction of figuring for the first time in the society +columns in company with one or two noticeable names; and foremost +among these was of course Miss Bart’s. The young lady was treated +by her hosts with corresponding deference; and she was in the mood +when such attentions are acceptable, whatever their source. Mrs. +Bry’s admiration was a mirror in which Lily’s self-complacency +recovered its lost outline. No insect hangs its nest on threads +as frail as those which will sustain the weight of human vanity; +and the sense of being of importance among the insignificant was +enough to restore to Miss Bart the gratifying consciousness of +power. If these people paid court to her it proved that she was +still conspicuous in the world to which they aspired; and she was +not above a certain enjoyment in dazzling them by her fineness, in +developing their puzzled perception of her superiorities. + +Perhaps, however, her enjoyment proceeded more than she was aware +from the physical stimulus of the excursion, the challenge of crisp +cold and hard exercise, the responsive thrill of her body to the +influences of the winter woods. She returned to town in a glow +of rejuvenation, conscious of a clearer colour in her cheeks, a +fresh elasticity in her muscles. The future seemed full of a vague +promise, and all her apprehensions were swept out of sight on the +buoyant current of her mood. + +A few days after her return to town she had the unpleasant surprise +of a visit from Mr. Rosedale. He came late, at the confidential +hour when the tea-table still lingers by the fire in friendly +expectancy; and his manner showed a readiness to adapt itself to +the intimacy of the occasion. + +Lily, who had a vague sense of his being somehow connected with her +lucky speculations, tried to give him the welcome he expected; but +there was something in the quality of his geniality which chilled +her own, and she was conscious of marking each step in their +acquaintance by a fresh blunder. + +Mr. Rosedale—making himself promptly at home in an adjoining +easy-chair, and sipping his tea critically, with the comment: “You +ought to go to my man for something really good”—appeared totally +unconscious of the repugnance which kept her in frozen erectness +behind the urn. It was perhaps her very manner of holding herself +aloof that appealed to his collector’s passion for the rare and +unattainable. He gave, at any rate, no sign of resenting it and +seemed prepared to supply in his own manner all the ease that was +lacking in hers. + +His object in calling was to ask her to go to the opera in his box +on the opening night, and seeing her hesitate he said persuasively: +“Mrs. Fisher is coming, and I’ve secured a tremendous admirer of +yours, who’ll never forgive me if you don’t accept.” + +As Lily’s silence left him with this allusion on his hands, he +added with a confidential smile: “Gus Trenor has promised to come +to town on purpose. I fancy he’d go a good deal farther for the +pleasure of seeing you.” + +Miss Bart felt an inward motion of annoyance: it was distasteful +enough to hear her name coupled with Trenor’s, and on Rosedale’s +lips the allusion was peculiarly unpleasant. + +“The Trenors are my best friends—I think we should all go a +long way to see each other,” she said, absorbing herself in the +preparation of fresh tea. + +Her visitor’s smile grew increasingly intimate. “Well, I wasn’t +thinking of Mrs. Trenor at the moment—they say Gus doesn’t always, +you know.” Then, dimly conscious that he had not struck the right +note, he added, with a well-meant effort at diversion: “How’s your +luck been going in Wall Street, by the way? I hear Gus pulled off a +nice little pile for you last month.” + +Lily put down the tea-caddy with an abrupt gesture. She felt that +her hands were trembling, and clasped them on her knee to steady +them; but her lip trembled too, and for a moment she was afraid +the tremor might communicate itself to her voice. When she spoke, +however, it was in a tone of perfect lightness. + +“Ah, yes—I had a little bit of money to invest, and Mr. Trenor, +who helps me about such matters, advised my putting it in stocks +instead of a mortgage, as my aunt’s agent wanted me to do; and as +it happened, I made a lucky ‘turn’—is that what you call it? For +you make a great many yourself, I believe.” + +She was smiling back at him now, relaxing the tension of her +attitude, and admitting him, by imperceptible gradations of glance +and manner, a step farther toward intimacy. The protective instinct +always nerved her to successful dissimulation, and it was not the +first time she had used her beauty to divert attention from an +inconvenient topic. + +When Mr. Rosedale took leave, he carried with him, not only her +acceptance of his invitation, but a general sense of having +comported himself in a way calculated to advance his cause. He +had always believed he had a light touch and a knowing way with +women, and the prompt manner in which Miss Bart (as he would have +phrased it) had “come into line,” confirmed his confidence in his +powers of handling this skittish sex. Her way of glossing over the +transaction with Trenor he regarded at once as a tribute to his +own acuteness, and a confirmation of his suspicions. The girl was +evidently nervous, and Mr. Rosedale, if he saw no other means of +advancing his acquaintance with her, was not above taking advantage +of her nervousness. + +He left Lily to a passion of disgust and fear. It seemed incredible +that Gus Trenor should have spoken of her to Rosedale. With +all his faults, Trenor had the safeguard of his traditions, +and was the less likely to overstep them because they were so +purely instinctive. But Lily recalled with a pang that there +were convivial moments when, as Judy had confided to her, Gus +“talked foolishly”: in one of these, no doubt, the fatal word had +slipped from him. As for Rosedale, she did not, after the first +shock, greatly care what conclusions he had drawn. Though usually +adroit enough where her own interests were concerned, she made +the mistake, not uncommon to persons in whom the social habits +are instinctive, of supposing that the inability to acquire them +quickly implies a general dulness. Because a blue-bottle bangs +irrationally against a window-pane, the drawing-room naturalist +may forget that under less artificial conditions it is capable +of measuring distances and drawing conclusions with all the +accuracy needful to its welfare; and the fact that Mr. Rosedale’s +drawing-room manner lacked perspective made Lily class him with +Trenor and the other dull men she knew, and assume that a little +flattery, and the occasional acceptance of his hospitality, would +suffice to render him innocuous. However, there could be no doubt +of the expediency of showing herself in his box on the opening +night of the opera; and after all, since Judy Trenor had promised +to take him up that winter, it was as well to reap the advantage of +being first in the field. + +For a day or two after Rosedale’s visit, Lily’s thoughts were +dogged by the consciousness of Trenor’s shadowy claim, and she +wished she had a clearer notion of the exact nature of the +transaction which seemed to have put her in his power; but her mind +shrank from any unusual application, and she was always helplessly +puzzled by figures. Moreover she had not seen Trenor since the day +of the Van Osburgh wedding, and in his continued absence the trace +of Rosedale’s words was soon effaced by other impressions. + +When the opening night of the opera came, her apprehensions had so +completely vanished that the sight of Trenor’s ruddy countenance in +the back of Mr. Rosedale’s box filled her with a sense of pleasant +reassurance. Lily had not quite reconciled herself to the necessity +of appearing as Rosedale’s guest on so conspicuous an occasion, and +it was a relief to find herself supported by any one of her own +set—for Mrs. Fisher’s social habits were too promiscuous for her +presence to justify Miss Bart’s. + +To Lily, always inspirited by the prospect of showing her beauty +in public, and conscious tonight of all the added enhancements of +dress, the insistency of Trenor’s gaze merged itself in the general +stream of admiring looks of which she felt herself the centre. Ah, +it was good to be young, to be radiant, to glow with the sense of +slenderness, strength and elasticity, of well-poised lines and +happy tints, to feel one’s self lifted to a height apart by that +incommunicable grace which is the bodily counterpart of genius! + +All means seemed justifiable to attain such an end, or rather, by a +happy shifting of lights with which practice had familiarized Miss +Bart, the cause shrank to a pin-point in the general brightness +of the effect. But brilliant young ladies, a little blinded by +their own effulgence, are apt to forget that the modest satellite +drowned in their light is still performing its own revolutions +and generating heat at its own rate. If Lily’s poetic enjoyment +of the moment was undisturbed by the base thought that her gown +and opera cloak had been indirectly paid for by Gus Trenor, the +latter had not sufficient poetry in his composition to lose sight +of these prosaic facts. He knew only that he had never seen Lily +look smarter in her life, that there wasn’t a woman in the house +who showed off good clothes as she did, and that hitherto he, to +whom she owed the opportunity of making this display, had reaped no +return beyond that of gazing at her in company with several hundred +other pairs of eyes. + +It came to Lily therefore as a disagreeable surprise when, in +the back of the box, where they found themselves alone between +two acts, Trenor said, without preamble, and in a tone of sulky +authority: “Look here, Lily, how is a fellow ever to see anything +of you? I’m in town three or four days in the week, and you know +a line to the club will always find me, but you don’t seem to +remember my existence nowadays unless you want to get a tip out of +me.” + +The fact that the remark was in distinctly bad taste did not make +it any easier to answer, for Lily was vividly aware that it was not +the moment for that drawing up of her slim figure and surprised +lifting of the brows by which she usually quelled incipient signs +of familiarity. + +“I’m very much flattered by your wanting to see me,” she returned, +essaying lightness instead, “but, unless you have mislaid my +address, it would have been easy to find me any afternoon at my +aunt’s—in fact, I rather expected you to look me up there.” + +If she hoped to mollify him by this last concession the attempt +was a failure, for he only replied, with the familiar lowering of +the brows that made him look his dullest when he was angry: “Hang +going to your aunt’s, and wasting the afternoon listening to a lot +of other chaps talking to you! You know I’m not the kind to sit +in a crowd and jaw—I’d always rather clear out when that sort of +circus is going on. But why can’t we go off somewhere on a little +lark together—a nice quiet little expedition like that drive at +Bellomont, the day you met me at the station?” + +He leaned unpleasantly close in order to convey this suggestion, +and she fancied she caught a significant aroma which explained the +dark flush on his face and the glistening dampness of his forehead. + +The idea that any rash answer might provoke an unpleasant outburst +tempered her disgust with caution, and she answered with a laugh: +“I don’t see how one can very well take country drives in town, but +I am not always surrounded by an admiring throng, and if you will +let me know what afternoon you are coming I will arrange things so +that we can have a nice quiet talk.” + +“Hang talking! That’s what you always say,” returned Trenor, whose +expletives lacked variety. “You put me off with that at the Van +Osburgh wedding—but the plain English of it is that, now you’ve +got what you wanted out of me, you’d rather have any other fellow +about.” + +His voice had risen sharply with the last words, and Lily flushed +with annoyance, but she kept command of the situation and laid a +persuasive hand on his arm. + +“Don’t be foolish, Gus; I can’t let you talk to me in that +ridiculous way. If you really want to see me, why shouldn’t we +take a walk in the Park some afternoon? I agree with you that it’s +amusing to be rustic in town, and if you like I’ll meet you there, +and we’ll go and feed the squirrels, and you shall take me out on +the lake in the steam-gondola.” + +She smiled as she spoke, letting her eyes rest on his in a way that +took the edge from her banter and made him suddenly malleable to +her will. + +“All right, then: that’s a go. Will you come tomorrow? Tomorrow +at three o’clock, at the end of the Mall. I’ll be there sharp, +remember; you won’t go back on me, Lily?” + +But to Miss Bart’s relief the repetition of her promise was cut +short by the opening of the box door to admit George Dorset. + +Trenor sulkily yielded his place, and Lily turned a brilliant smile +on the newcomer. She had not talked with Dorset since their visit +at Bellomont, but something in his look and manner told her that +he recalled the friendly footing on which they had last met. He +was not a man to whom the expression of admiration came easily: +his long sallow face and distrustful eyes seemed always barricaded +against the expansive emotions. But, where her own influence was +concerned, Lily’s intuitions sent out thread-like feelers, and as +she made room for him on the narrow sofa she was sure he found a +dumb pleasure in being near her. Few women took the trouble to +make themselves agreeable to Dorset, and Lily had been kind to him +at Bellomont, and was now smiling on him with a divine renewal of +kindness. + +“Well, here we are, in for another six months of caterwauling,” +he began complainingly. “Not a shade of difference between this +year and last, except that the women have got new clothes and the +singers haven’t got new voices. My wife’s musical, you know—puts me +through a course of this every winter. It isn’t so bad on Italian +nights—then she comes late, and there’s time to digest. But when +they give Wagner we have to rush dinner, and I pay up for it. And +the draughts are damnable—asphyxia in front and pleurisy in the +back. There’s Trenor leaving the box without drawing the curtain! +With a hide like that draughts don’t make any difference. Did you +ever watch Trenor eat? If you did, you’d wonder why he’s alive; I +suppose he’s leather inside too.—But I came to say that my wife +wants you to come down to our place next Sunday. Do for heaven’s +sake say yes. She’s got a lot of bores coming—intellectual ones, +I mean; that’s her new line, you know, and I’m not sure it ain’t +worse than the music. Some of ’em have long hair, and they start +an argument with the soup, and don’t notice when things are handed +to them. The consequence is the dinner gets cold, and I have +dyspepsia. That silly ass Silverton brings them to the house—he +writes poetry, you know, and Bertha and he are getting tremendously +thick. She could write better than any of ’em if she chose, and I +don’t blame her for wanting clever fellows about; all I say is: +‘Don’t let me see ’em eat!’” + +The gist of this strange communication gave Lily a distinct thrill +of pleasure. Under ordinary circumstances, there would have been +nothing surprising in an invitation from Bertha Dorset; but since +the Bellomont episode an unavowed hostility had kept the two women +apart. Now, with a start of inner wonder, Lily felt that her thirst +for retaliation had died out. IF YOU WOULD FORGIVE YOUR ENEMY, +says the Malay proverb, FIRST INFLICT A HURT ON HIM; and Lily was +experiencing the truth of the apothegm. If she had destroyed Mrs. +Dorset’s letters, she might have continued to hate her; but the +fact that they remained in her possession had fed her resentment to +satiety. + +She uttered a smiling acceptance, hailing in the renewal of the tie +an escape from Trenor’s importunities. + + + + +Chapter 11 + + +Meanwhile the holidays had gone by and the season was beginning. +Fifth Avenue had become a nightly torrent of carriages surging +upward to the fashionable quarters about the Park, where +illuminated windows and outspread awnings betokened the usual +routine of hospitality. Other tributary currents crossed the +mainstream, bearing their freight to the theatres, restaurants or +opera; and Mrs. Peniston, from the secluded watch-tower of her +upper window, could tell to a nicety just when the chronic volume +of sound was increased by the sudden influx setting toward a Van +Osburgh ball, or when the multiplication of wheels meant merely +that the opera was over, or that there was a big supper at Sherry’s. + +Mrs. Peniston followed the rise and culmination of the season +as keenly as the most active sharer in its gaieties; and, +as a looker-on, she enjoyed opportunities of comparison and +generalization such as those who take part must proverbially +forego. No one could have kept a more accurate record of +social fluctuations, or have put a more unerring finger on +the distinguishing features of each season: its dulness, its +extravagance, its lack of balls or excess of divorces. She had a +special memory for the vicissitudes of the “new people” who rose +to the surface with each recurring tide, and were either submerged +beneath its rush or landed triumphantly beyond the reach of envious +breakers; and she was apt to display a remarkable retrospective +insight into their ultimate fate, so that, when they had fulfilled +their destiny, she was almost always able to say to Grace +Stepney—the recipient of her prophecies—that she had known exactly +what would happen. + +This particular season Mrs. Peniston would have characterized as +that in which everybody “felt poor” except the Welly Brys and Mr. +Simon Rosedale. It had been a bad autumn in Wall Street, where +prices fell in accordance with that peculiar law which proves +railway stocks and bales of cotton to be more sensitive to the +allotment of executive power than many estimable citizens trained +to all the advantages of self-government. Even fortunes supposed to +be independent of the market either betrayed a secret dependence on +it, or suffered from a sympathetic affection: fashion sulked in its +country houses, or came to town incognito, general entertainments +were discountenanced, and informality and short dinners became the +fashion. + +But society, amused for a while at playing Cinderella, soon +wearied of the hearthside role, and welcomed the Fairy Godmother +in the shape of any magician powerful enough to turn the shrunken +pumpkin back again into the golden coach. The mere fact of growing +richer at a time when most people’s investments are shrinking, is +calculated to attract envious attention; and according to Wall +Street rumours, Welly Bry and Rosedale had found the secret of +performing this miracle. + +Rosedale, in particular, was said to have doubled his fortune, and +there was talk of his buying the newly-finished house of one of the +victims of the crash, who, in the space of twelve short months, had +made the same number of millions, built a house in Fifth Avenue, +filled a picture gallery with old masters, entertained all New +York in it, and been smuggled out of the country between a trained +nurse and a doctor, while his creditors mounted guard over the old +masters, and his guests explained to each other that they had dined +with him only because they wanted to see the pictures. Mr. Rosedale +meant to have a less meteoric career. He knew he should have to +go slowly, and the instincts of his race fitted him to suffer +rebuffs and put up with delays. But he was prompt to perceive +that the general dulness of the season afforded him an unusual +opportunity to shine, and he set about with patient industry to +form a background for his growing glory. Mrs. Fisher was of immense +service to him at this period. She had set off so many newcomers +on the social stage that she was like one of those pieces of stock +scenery which tell the experienced spectator exactly what is going +to take place. But Mr. Rosedale wanted, in the long run, a more +individual environment. He was sensitive to shades of difference +which Miss Bart would never have credited him with perceiving, +because he had no corresponding variations of manner; and it +was becoming more and more clear to him that Miss Bart herself +possessed precisely the complementary qualities needed to round off +his social personality. + +Such details did not fall within the range of Mrs. Peniston’s +vision. Like many minds of panoramic sweep, hers was apt to +overlook the MINUTIAE of the foreground, and she was much more +likely to know where Carry Fisher had found the Welly Brys’ CHEF +for them, than what was happening to her own niece. She was not, +however, without purveyors of information ready to supplement +her deficiencies. Grace Stepney’s mind was like a kind of moral +fly-paper, to which the buzzing items of gossip were drawn by a +fatal attraction, and where they hung fast in the toils of an +inexorable memory. Lily would have been surprised to know how many +trivial facts concerning herself were lodged in Miss Stepney’s +head. She was quite aware that she was of interest to dingy people, +but she assumed that there is only one form of dinginess, and +that admiration for brilliancy is the natural expression of its +inferior state. She knew that Gerty Farish admired her blindly, and +therefore supposed that she inspired the same sentiments in Grace +Stepney, whom she classified as a Gerty Farish without the saving +traits of youth and enthusiasm. + +In reality, the two differed from each other as much as they +differed from the object of their mutual contemplation. Miss +Farish’s heart was a fountain of tender illusions, Miss Stepney’s +a precise register of facts as manifested in their relation to +herself. She had sensibilities which, to Lily, would have seemed +comic in a person with a freckled nose and red eyelids, who lived +in a boarding-house and admired Mrs. Peniston’s drawing-room; but +poor Grace’s limitations gave them a more concentrated inner life, +as poor soil starves certain plants into intenser efflorescence. +She had in truth no abstract propensity to malice: she did not +dislike Lily because the latter was brilliant and predominant, +but because she thought that Lily disliked her. It is less +mortifying to believe one’s self unpopular than insignificant, and +vanity prefers to assume that indifference is a latent form of +unfriendliness. Even such scant civilities as Lily accorded to Mr. +Rosedale would have made Miss Stepney her friend for life; but how +could she foresee that such a friend was worth cultivating? How, +moreover, can a young woman who has never been ignored measure +the pang which this injury inflicts? And, lastly, how could Lily, +accustomed to choose between a pressure of engagements, guess +that she had mortally offended Miss Stepney by causing her to be +excluded from one of Mrs. Peniston’s infrequent dinner-parties? + +Mrs. Peniston disliked giving dinners, but she had a high sense +of family obligation, and on the Jack Stepneys’ return from their +honeymoon she felt it incumbent upon her to light the drawing-room +lamps and extract her best silver from the Safe Deposit vaults. +Mrs. Peniston’s rare entertainments were preceded by days of +heart-rending vacillation as to every detail of the feast, from +the seating of the guests to the pattern of the table-cloth, and +in the course of one of these preliminary discussions she had +imprudently suggested to her cousin Grace that, as the dinner was a +family affair, she might be included in it. For a week the prospect +had lighted up Miss Stepney’s colourless existence; then she had +been given to understand that it would be more convenient to have +her another day. Miss Stepney knew exactly what had happened. +Lily, to whom family reunions were occasions of unalloyed dulness, +had persuaded her aunt that a dinner of “smart” people would be +much more to the taste of the young couple, and Mrs. Peniston, +who leaned helplessly on her niece in social matters, had been +prevailed upon to pronounce Grace’s exile. After all, Grace could +come any other day; why should she mind being put off? + +It was precisely because Miss Stepney could come any other day—and +because she knew her relations were in the secret of her unoccupied +evenings—that this incident loomed gigantically on her horizon. She +was aware that she had Lily to thank for it; and dull resentment +was turned to active animosity. + +Mrs. Peniston, on whom she had looked in a day or two after the +dinner, laid down her crochet-work and turned abruptly from her +oblique survey of Fifth Avenue. + +“Gus Trenor?—Lily and Gus Trenor?” she said, growing so suddenly +pale that her visitor was almost alarmed. + +“Oh, cousin Julia . . . of course I don’t mean....” + +“I don’t know what you DO mean,” said Mrs. Peniston, with a +frightened quiver in her small fretful voice. “Such things were +never heard of in my day. And my own niece! I’m not sure I +understand you. Do people say he’s in love with her?” + +Mrs. Peniston’s horror was genuine. Though she boasted an +unequalled familiarity with the secret chronicles of society, she +had the innocence of the school-girl who regards wickedness as a +part of “history,” and to whom it never occurs that the scandals +she reads of in lesson-hours may be repeating themselves in the +next street. Mrs. Peniston had kept her imagination shrouded, like +the drawing-room furniture. She knew, of course, that society was +“very much changed,” and that many women her mother would have +thought “peculiar” were now in a position to be critical about +their visiting-lists; she had discussed the perils of divorce with +her rector, and had felt thankful at times that Lily was still +unmarried; but the idea that any scandal could attach to a young +girl’s name, above all that it could be lightly coupled with that +of a married man, was so new to her that she was as much aghast as +if she had been accused of leaving her carpets down all summer, or +of violating any of the other cardinal laws of house-keeping. + +Miss Stepney, when her first fright had subsided, began to feel +the superiority that greater breadth of mind confers. It was +really pitiable to be as ignorant of the world as Mrs. Peniston! +She smiled at the latter’s question. “People always say unpleasant +things—and certainly they’re a great deal together. A friend of +mine met them the other afternoon in the Park—quite late, after the +lamps were lit. It’s a pity Lily makes herself so conspicuous.” + +“CONSPICUOUS!” gasped Mrs. Peniston. She bent forward, lowering her +voice to mitigate the horror. “What sort of things do they say? +That he means to get a divorce and marry her?” + +Grace Stepney laughed outright. “Dear me, no! He would hardly do +that. It—it’s a flirtation—nothing more.” + +“A flirtation? Between my niece and a married man? Do you mean to +tell me that, with Lily’s looks and advantages, she could find no +better use for her time than to waste it on a fat stupid man almost +old enough to be her father?” This argument had such a convincing +ring that it gave Mrs. Peniston sufficient reassurance to pick up +her work, while she waited for Grace Stepney to rally her scattered +forces. + +But Miss Stepney was on the spot in an instant. “That’s the worst +of it—people say she isn’t wasting her time! Every one knows, as +you say, that Lily is too handsome and—and charming—to devote +herself to a man like Gus Trenor unless—” + +“Unless?” echoed Mrs. Peniston. Her visitor drew breath nervously. +It was agreeable to shock Mrs. Peniston, but not to shock her to +the verge of anger. Miss Stepney was not sufficiently familiar +with the classic drama to have recalled in advance how bearers +of bad tidings are proverbially received, but she now had a +rapid vision of forfeited dinners and a reduced wardrobe as the +possible consequence of her disinterestedness. To the honour of +her sex, however, hatred of Lily prevailed over more personal +considerations. Mrs. Peniston had chosen the wrong moment to boast +of her niece’s charms. + +“Unless,” said Grace, leaning forward to speak with low-toned +emphasis, “unless there are material advantages to be gained by +making herself agreeable to him.” + +She felt that the moment was tremendous, and remembered suddenly +that Mrs. Peniston’s black brocade, with the cut jet fringe, would +have been hers at the end of the season. + +Mrs. Peniston put down her work again. Another aspect of the same +idea had presented itself to her, and she felt that it was beneath +her dignity to have her nerves racked by a dependent relative who +wore her old clothes. + +“If you take pleasure in annoying me by mysterious insinuations,” +she said coldly, “you might at least have chosen a more suitable +time than just as I am recovering from the strain of giving a large +dinner.” + +The mention of the dinner dispelled Miss Stepney’s last scruples. +“I don’t know why I should be accused of taking pleasure in telling +you about Lily. I was sure I shouldn’t get any thanks for it,” she +returned with a flare of temper. “But I have some family feeling +left, and as you are the only person who has any authority over +Lily, I thought you ought to know what is being said of her.” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Peniston, “what I complain of is that you haven’t +told me yet what IS being said.” + +“I didn’t suppose I should have to put it so plainly. People say +that Gus Trenor pays her bills.” + +“Pays her bills—her bills?” Mrs. Peniston broke into a laugh. “I +can’t imagine where you can have picked up such rubbish. Lily has +her own income—and I provide for her very handsomely—” + +“Oh, we all know that,” interposed Miss Stepney drily. “But Lily +wears a great many smart gowns—” + +“I like her to be well-dressed—it’s only suitable!” + +“Certainly; but then there are her gambling debts besides.” + +Miss Stepney, in the beginning, had not meant to bring up this +point; but Mrs. Peniston had only her own incredulity to blame. She +was like the stiff-necked unbelievers of Scripture, who must be +annihilated to be convinced. + +“Gambling debts? Lily?” Mrs. Peniston’s voice shook with anger and +bewilderment. She wondered whether Grace Stepney had gone out of +her mind. “What do you mean by her gambling debts?” + +“Simply that if one plays bridge for money in Lily’s set one is +liable to lose a great deal—and I don’t suppose Lily always wins.” + +“Who told you that my niece played cards for money?” + +“Mercy, cousin Julia, don’t look at me as if I were trying to turn +you against Lily! Everybody knows she is crazy about bridge. Mrs. +Gryce told me herself that it was her gambling that frightened +Percy Gryce—it seems he was really taken with her at first. But, +of course, among Lily’s friends it’s quite the custom for girls to +play for money. In fact, people are inclined to excuse her on that +account——” + +“To excuse her for what?” + +“For being hard up—and accepting attentions from men like Gus +Trenor—and George Dorset——” + +Mrs. Peniston gave another cry. “George Dorset? Is there any one +else? I should like to know the worst, if you please.” + +“Don’t put it in that way, cousin Julia. Lately Lily has been a +good deal with the Dorsets, and he seems to admire her—but of +course that’s only natural. And I’m sure there is no truth in the +horrid things people say; but she HAS been spending a great deal +of money this winter. Evie Van Osburgh was at Celeste’s ordering +her trousseau the other day—yes, the marriage takes place next +month—and she told me that Celeste showed her the most exquisite +things she was just sending home to Lily. And people say that Judy +Trenor has quarrelled with her on account of Gus; but I’m sure I’m +sorry I spoke, though I only meant it as a kindness.” + +Mrs. Peniston’s genuine incredulity enabled her to dismiss Miss +Stepney with a disdain which boded ill for that lady’s prospect of +succeeding to the black brocade; but minds impenetrable to reason +have generally some crack through which suspicion filters, and +her visitor’s insinuations did not glide off as easily as she had +expected. Mrs. Peniston disliked scenes, and her determination +to avoid them had always led her to hold herself aloof from the +details of Lily’s life. In her youth, girls had not been supposed +to require close supervision. They were generally assumed to be +taken up with the legitimate business of courtship and marriage, +and interference in such affairs on the part of their natural +guardians was considered as unwarrantable as a spectator’s suddenly +joining in a game. There had of course been “fast” girls even in +Mrs. Peniston’s early experience; but their fastness, at worst, was +understood to be a mere excess of animal spirits, against which +there could be no graver charge than that of being “unladylike.” +The modern fastness appeared synonymous with immorality, and the +mere idea of immorality was as offensive to Mrs. Peniston as a +smell of cooking in the drawing-room: it was one of the conceptions +her mind refused to admit. + +She had no immediate intention of repeating to Lily what she +had heard, or even of trying to ascertain its truth by means of +discreet interrogation. To do so might be to provoke a scene; and +a scene, in the shaken state of Mrs. Peniston’s nerves, with the +effects of her dinner not worn off, and her mind still tremulous +with new impressions, was a risk she deemed it her duty to avoid. +But there remained in her thoughts a settled deposit of resentment +against her niece, all the denser because it was not to be cleared +by explanation or discussion. It was horrible of a young girl to +let herself be talked about; however unfounded the charges against +her, she must be to blame for their having been made. Mrs. Peniston +felt as if there had been a contagious illness in the house, and +she was doomed to sit shivering among her contaminated furniture. + + + + +Chapter 12 + + +Miss Bart had in fact been treading a devious way, and none of her +critics could have been more alive to the fact than herself; but +she had a fatalistic sense of being drawn from one wrong turning +to another, without ever perceiving the right road till it was too +late to take it. + +Lily, who considered herself above narrow prejudices, had not +imagined that the fact of letting Gus Trenor make a little money +for her would ever disturb her self-complacency. And the fact +in itself still seemed harmless enough; only it was a fertile +source of harmful complications. As she exhausted the amusement +of spending the money these complications became more pressing, +and Lily, whose mind could be severely logical in tracing the +causes of her ill-luck to others, justified herself by the thought +that she owed all her troubles to the enmity of Bertha Dorset. +This enmity, however, had apparently expired in a renewal of +friendliness between the two women. Lily’s visit to the Dorsets had +resulted, for both, in the discovery that they could be of use to +each other; and the civilized instinct finds a subtler pleasure in +making use of its antagonist than in confounding him. Mrs. Dorset +was, in fact, engaged in a new sentimental experiment, of which +Mrs. Fisher’s late property, Ned Silverton, was the rosy victim; +and at such moments, as Judy Trenor had once remarked, she felt a +peculiar need of distracting her husband’s attention. Dorset was +as difficult to amuse as a savage; but even his self-engrossment +was not proof against Lily’s arts, or rather these were especially +adapted to soothe an uneasy egoism. Her experience with Percy Gryce +stood her in good stead in ministering to Dorset’s humours, and if +the incentive to please was less urgent, the difficulties of her +situation were teaching her to make much of minor opportunities. + +Intimacy with the Dorsets was not likely to lessen such +difficulties on the material side. Mrs. Dorset had none of Judy +Trenor’s lavish impulses, and Dorset’s admiration was not likely to +express itself in financial “tips,” even had Lily cared to renew +her experiences in that line. What she required, for the moment, +of the Dorsets’ friendship, was simply its social sanction. She +knew that people were beginning to talk of her; but this fact did +not alarm her as it had alarmed Mrs. Peniston. In her set such +gossip was not unusual, and a handsome girl who flirted with a +married man was merely assumed to be pressing to the limit of her +opportunities. It was Trenor himself who frightened her. Their walk +in the Park had not been a success. Trenor had married young, and +since his marriage his intercourse with women had not taken the +form of the sentimental small-talk which doubles upon itself like +the paths in a maze. He was first puzzled and then irritated to +find himself always led back to the same starting-point, and Lily +felt that she was gradually losing control of the situation. Trenor +was in truth in an unmanageable mood. In spite of his understanding +with Rosedale he had been somewhat heavily “touched” by the fall in +stocks; his household expenses weighed on him, and he seemed to be +meeting, on all sides, a sullen opposition to his wishes, instead +of the easy good luck he had hitherto encountered. + +Mrs. Trenor was still at Bellomont, keeping the town-house open, +and descending on it now and then for a taste of the world, but +preferring the recurrent excitement of week-end parties to the +restrictions of a dull season. Since the holidays she had not urged +Lily to return to Bellomont, and the first time they met in town +Lily fancied there was a shade of coldness in her manner. Was it +merely the expression of her displeasure at Miss Bart’s neglect, +or had disquieting rumours reached her? The latter contingency +seemed improbable, yet Lily was not without a sense of uneasiness. +If her roaming sympathies had struck root anywhere, it was in +her friendship with Judy Trenor. She believed in the sincerity +of her friend’s affection, though it sometimes showed itself in +self-interested ways, and she shrank with peculiar reluctance from +any risk of estranging it. But, aside from this, she was keenly +conscious of the way in which such an estrangement would react on +herself. The fact that Gus Trenor was Judy’s husband was at times +Lily’s strongest reason for disliking him, and for resenting the +obligation under which he had placed her. To set her doubts at +rest, Miss Bart, soon after the New Year, “proposed” herself for a +week-end at Bellomont. She had learned in advance that the presence +of a large party would protect her from too great assiduity on +Trenor’s part, and his wife’s telegraphic “come by all means” +seemed to assure her of her usual welcome. + +Judy received her amicably. The cares of a large party always +prevailed over personal feelings, and Lily saw no change in +her hostess’s manner. Nevertheless, she was soon aware that +the experiment of coming to Bellomont was destined not to be +successful. The party was made up of what Mrs. Trenor called “poky +people”—her generic name for persons who did not play bridge—and, +it being her habit to group all such obstructionists in one +class, she usually invited them together, regardless of their +other characteristics. The result was apt to be an irreducible +combination of persons having no other quality in common than their +abstinence from bridge, and the antagonisms developed in a group +lacking the one taste which might have amalgamated them, were in +this case aggravated by bad weather, and by the ill-concealed +boredom of their host and hostess. In such emergencies, Judy would +usually have turned to Lily to fuse the discordant elements; +and Miss Bart, assuming that such a service was expected of +her, threw herself into it with her accustomed zeal. But at the +outset she perceived a subtle resistance to her efforts. If Mrs. +Trenor’s manner toward her was unchanged, there was certainly a +faint coldness in that of the other ladies. An occasional caustic +allusion to “your friends the Wellington Brys,” or to “the little +Jew who has bought the Greiner house—some one told us you knew him, +Miss Bart,”—showed Lily that she was in disfavour with that portion +of society which, while contributing least to its amusement, has +assumed the right to decide what forms that amusement shall take. +The indication was a slight one, and a year ago Lily would have +smiled at it, trusting to the charm of her personality to dispel +any prejudice against her. But now she had grown more sensitive +to criticism and less confident in her power of disarming it. +She knew, moreover, that if the ladies at Bellomont permitted +themselves to criticize her friends openly, it was a proof that +they were not afraid of subjecting her to the same treatment behind +her back. The nervous dread lest anything in Trenor’s manner should +seem to justify their disapproval made her seek every pretext for +avoiding him, and she left Bellomont conscious of having failed in +every purpose which had taken her there. + +In town she returned to preoccupations which, for the moment, had +the happy effect of banishing troublesome thoughts. The Welly Brys, +after much debate, and anxious counsel with their newly-acquired +friends, had decided on the bold move of giving a general +entertainment. To attack society collectively, when one’s means of +approach are limited to a few acquaintances, is like advancing into +a strange country with an insufficient number of scouts; but such +rash tactics have sometimes led to brilliant victories, and the +Brys had determined to put their fate to the touch. Mrs. Fisher, to +whom they had entrusted the conduct of the affair, had decided that +TABLEAUX VIVANTS and expensive music were the two baits most likely +to attract the desired prey, and after prolonged negotiations, +and the kind of wire-pulling in which she was known to excel, she +had induced a dozen fashionable women to exhibit themselves in a +series of pictures which, by a farther miracle of persuasion, the +distinguished portrait painter, Paul Morpeth, had been prevailed +upon to organize. + +Lily was in her element on such occasions. Under Morpeth’s guidance +her vivid plastic sense, hitherto nurtured on no higher food than +dress-making and upholstery, found eager expression in the disposal +of draperies, the study of attitudes, the shifting of lights +and shadows. Her dramatic instinct was roused by the choice of +subjects, and the gorgeous reproductions of historic dress stirred +an imagination which only visual impressions could reach. But +keenest of all was the exhilaration of displaying her own beauty +under a new aspect: of showing that her loveliness was no mere +fixed quality, but an element shaping all emotions to fresh forms +of grace. + +Mrs. Fisher’s measures had been well-taken, and society, surprised +in a dull moment, succumbed to the temptation of Mrs. Bry’s +hospitality. The protesting minority were forgotten in the throng +which abjured and came; and the audience was almost as brilliant as +the show. + +Lawrence Selden was among those who had yielded to the proffered +inducements. If he did not often act on the accepted social axiom +that a man may go where he pleases, it was because he had long +since learned that his pleasures were mainly to be found in a small +group of the like-minded. But he enjoyed spectacular effects, and +was not insensible to the part money plays in their production: all +he asked was that the very rich should live up to their calling +as stage-managers, and not spend their money in a dull way. This +the Brys could certainly not be charged with doing. Their recently +built house, whatever it might lack as a frame for domesticity, +was almost as well-designed for the display of a festal assemblage +as one of those airy pleasure-halls which the Italian architects +improvised to set off the hospitality of princes. The air of +improvisation was in fact strikingly present: so recent, so +rapidly-evoked was the whole MISE-EN-SCENE that one had to touch +the marble columns to learn they were not of cardboard, to seat +one’s self in one of the damask-and-gold arm-chairs to be sure it +was not painted against the wall. + +Selden, who had put one of these seats to the test, found himself, +from an angle of the ball-room, surveying the scene with frank +enjoyment. The company, in obedience to the decorative instinct +which calls for fine clothes in fine surroundings, had dressed +rather with an eye to Mrs. Bry’s background than to herself. The +seated throng, filling the immense room without undue crowding, +presented a surface of rich tissues and jewelled shoulders in +harmony with the festooned and gilded walls, and the flushed +splendours of the Venetian ceiling. At the farther end of the room +a stage had been constructed behind a proscenium arch curtained +with folds of old damask; but in the pause before the parting of +the folds there was little thought of what they might reveal, for +every woman who had accepted Mrs. Bry’s invitation was engaged in +trying to find out how many of her friends had done the same. + +Gerty Farish, seated next to Selden, was lost in that +indiscriminate and uncritical enjoyment so irritating to Miss +Bart’s finer perceptions. It may be that Selden’s nearness had +something to do with the quality of his cousin’s pleasure; but Miss +Farish was so little accustomed to refer her enjoyment of such +scenes to her own share in them, that she was merely conscious of a +deeper sense of contentment. + +“Wasn’t it dear of Lily to get me an invitation? Of course it would +never have occurred to Carry Fisher to put me on the list, and I +should have been so sorry to miss seeing it all—and especially +Lily herself. Some one told me the ceiling was by Veronese—you +would know, of course, Lawrence. I suppose it’s very beautiful, +but his women are so dreadfully fat. Goddesses? Well, I can only +say that if they’d been mortals and had to wear corsets, it would +have been better for them. I think our women are much handsomer. +And this room is wonderfully becoming—every one looks so well! Did +you ever see such jewels? Do look at Mrs. George Dorset’s pearls—I +suppose the smallest of them would pay the rent of our Girls’ Club +for a year. Not that I ought to complain about the club; every +one has been so wonderfully kind. Did I tell you that Lily had +given us three hundred dollars? Wasn’t it splendid of her? And +then she collected a lot of money from her friends—Mrs. Bry gave +us five hundred, and Mr. Rosedale a thousand. I wish Lily were not +so nice to Mr. Rosedale, but she says it’s no use being rude to +him, because he doesn’t see the difference. She really can’t bear +to hurt people’s feelings—it makes me so angry when I hear her +called cold and conceited! The girls at the club don’t call her +that. Do you know she has been there with me twice?—yes, Lily! And +you should have seen their eyes! One of them said it was as good +as a day in the country just to look at her. And she sat there, +and laughed and talked with them—not a bit as if she were being +CHARITABLE, you know, but as if she liked it as much as they did. +They’ve been asking ever since when she’s coming back; and she’s +promised me——oh!” + +Miss Farish’s confidences were cut short by the parting of the +curtain on the first TABLEAU—a group of nymphs dancing across +flower-strewn sward in the rhythmic postures of Botticelli’s +Spring. TABLEAUX VIVANTS depend for their effect not only on the +happy disposal of lights and the delusive interposition of layers +of gauze, but on a corresponding adjustment of the mental vision. +To unfurnished minds they remain, in spite of every enhancement +of art, only a superior kind of wax-works; but to the responsive +fancy they may give magic glimpses of the boundary world between +fact and imagination. Selden’s mind was of this order: he could +yield to vision-making influences as completely as a child to the +spell of a fairy-tale. Mrs. Bry’s TABLEAUX wanted none of the +qualities which go to the producing of such illusions, and under +Morpeth’s organizing hand the pictures succeeded each other with +the rhythmic march of some splendid frieze, in which the fugitive +curves of living flesh and the wandering light of young eyes have +been subdued to plastic harmony without losing the charm of life. + +The scenes were taken from old pictures, and the participators had +been cleverly fitted with characters suited to their types. No +one, for instance, could have made a more typical Goya than Carry +Fisher, with her short dark-skinned face, the exaggerated glow of +her eyes, the provocation of her frankly-painted smile. A brilliant +Miss Smedden from Brooklyn showed to perfection the sumptuous +curves of Titian’s Daughter, lifting her gold salver laden with +grapes above the harmonizing gold of rippled hair and rich brocade, +and a young Mrs. Van Alstyne, who showed the frailer Dutch type, +with high blue-veined forehead and pale eyes and lashes, made +a characteristic Vandyck, in black satin, against a curtained +archway. Then there were Kauffmann nymphs garlanding the altar of +Love; a Veronese supper, all sheeny textures, pearl-woven heads and +marble architecture; and a Watteau group of lute-playing comedians, +lounging by a fountain in a sunlit glade. + +Each evanescent picture touched the vision-building faculty in +Selden, leading him so far down the vistas of fancy that even Gerty +Farish’s running commentary—“Oh, how lovely Lulu Melson looks!” +or: “That must be Kate Corby, to the right there, in purple”—did +not break the spell of the illusion. Indeed, so skilfully had the +personality of the actors been subdued to the scenes they figured +in that even the least imaginative of the audience must have felt +a thrill of contrast when the curtain suddenly parted on a picture +which was simply and undisguisedly the portrait of Miss Bart. + +Here there could be no mistaking the predominance of +personality—the unanimous “Oh!” of the spectators was a tribute, +not to the brush-work of Reynolds’s “Mrs. Lloyd” but to the flesh +and blood loveliness of Lily Bart. She had shown her artistic +intelligence in selecting a type so like her own that she could +embody the person represented without ceasing to be herself. It +was as though she had stepped, not out of, but into, Reynolds’s +canvas, banishing the phantom of his dead beauty by the beams +of her living grace. The impulse to show herself in a splendid +setting—she had thought for a moment of representing Tiepolo’s +Cleopatra—had yielded to the truer instinct of trusting to her +unassisted beauty, and she had purposely chosen a picture without +distracting accessories of dress or surroundings. Her pale +draperies, and the background of foliage against which she stood, +served only to relieve the long dryad-like curves that swept upward +from her poised foot to her lifted arm. The noble buoyancy of her +attitude, its suggestion of soaring grace, revealed the touch of +poetry in her beauty that Selden always felt in her presence, yet +lost the sense of when he was not with her. Its expression was now +so vivid that for the first time he seemed to see before him the +real Lily Bart, divested of the trivialities of her little world, +and catching for a moment a note of that eternal harmony of which +her beauty was a part. + +“Deuced bold thing to show herself in that get-up; but, gad, there +isn’t a break in the lines anywhere, and I suppose she wanted us to +know it!” + +These words, uttered by that experienced connoisseur, Mr. Ned +Van Alstyne, whose scented white moustache had brushed Selden’s +shoulder whenever the parting of the curtains presented any +exceptional opportunity for the study of the female outline, +affected their hearer in an unexpected way. It was not the first +time that Selden had heard Lily’s beauty lightly remarked on, and +hitherto the tone of the comments had imperceptibly coloured his +view of her. But now it woke only a motion of indignant contempt. +This was the world she lived in, these were the standards by which +she was fated to be measured! Does one go to Caliban for a judgment +on Miranda? + +In the long moment before the curtain fell, he had time to feel +the whole tragedy of her life. It was as though her beauty, thus +detached from all that cheapened and vulgarized it, had held out +suppliant hands to him from the world in which he and she had once +met for a moment, and where he felt an overmastering longing to be +with her again. + +He was roused by the pressure of ecstatic fingers. “Wasn’t she too +beautiful, Lawrence? Don’t you like her best in that simple dress? +It makes her look like the real Lily—the Lily I know.” + +He met Gerty Farish’s brimming gaze. “The Lily we know,” he +corrected; and his cousin, beaming at the implied understanding, +exclaimed joyfully: “I’ll tell her that! She always says you +dislike her.” + + * * * * * + +The performance over, Selden’s first impulse was to seek +Miss Bart. During the interlude of music which succeeded the +TABLEAUX, the actors had seated themselves here and there in the +audience, diversifying its conventional appearance by the varied +picturesqueness of their dress. Lily, however, was not among them, +and her absence served to protract the effect she had produced +on Selden: it would have broken the spell to see her too soon in +the surroundings from which accident had so happily detached her. +They had not met since the day of the Van Osburgh wedding, and on +his side the avoidance had been intentional. Tonight, however, +he knew that, sooner or later, he should find himself at her +side; and though he let the dispersing crowd drift him whither +it would, without making an immediate effort to reach her, his +procrastination was not due to any lingering resistance, but to the +desire to luxuriate a moment in the sense of complete surrender. + +Lily had not an instant’s doubt as to the meaning of the murmur +greeting her appearance. No other tableau had been received with +that precise note of approval: it had obviously been called forth +by herself, and not by the picture she impersonated. She had feared +at the last moment that she was risking too much in dispensing with +the advantages of a more sumptuous setting, and the completeness +of her triumph gave her an intoxicating sense of recovered power. +Not caring to diminish the impression she had produced, she held +herself aloof from the audience till the movement of dispersal +before supper, and thus had a second opportunity of showing +herself to advantage, as the throng poured slowly into the empty +drawing-room where she was standing. + +She was soon the centre of a group which increased and renewed +itself as the circulation became general, and the individual +comments on her success were a delightful prolongation of the +collective applause. At such moments she lost something of +her natural fastidiousness, and cared less for the quality of +the admiration received than for its quantity. Differences of +personality were merged in a warm atmosphere of praise, in which +her beauty expanded like a flower in sunlight; and if Selden had +approached a moment or two sooner he would have seen her turning +on Ned Van Alstyne and George Dorset the look he had dreamed of +capturing for himself. + +Fortune willed, however, that the hurried approach of Mrs. Fisher, +as whose aide-de-camp Van Alstyne was acting, should break up the +group before Selden reached the threshold of the room. One or two +of the men wandered off in search of their partners for supper, +and the others, noticing Selden’s approach, gave way to him in +accordance with the tacit freemasonry of the ball-room. Lily was +therefore standing alone when he reached her; and finding the +expected look in her eye, he had the satisfaction of supposing he +had kindled it. The look did indeed deepen as it rested on him, for +even in that moment of self-intoxication Lily felt the quicker beat +of life that his nearness always produced. She read, too, in his +answering gaze the delicious confirmation of her triumph, and for +the moment it seemed to her that it was for him only she cared to +be beautiful. + +Selden had given her his arm without speaking. She took it in +silence, and they moved away, not toward the supper-room, but +against the tide which was setting thither. The faces about her +flowed by like the streaming images of sleep: she hardly noticed +where Selden was leading her, till they passed through a glass +doorway at the end of the long suite of rooms and stood suddenly in +the fragrant hush of a garden. Gravel grated beneath their feet, +and about them was the transparent dimness of a midsummer night. +Hanging lights made emerald caverns in the depths of foliage, and +whitened the spray of a fountain falling among lilies. The magic +place was deserted: there was no sound but the splash of the water +on the lily-pads, and a distant drift of music that might have been +blown across a sleeping lake. + +Selden and Lily stood still, accepting the unreality of the scene +as a part of their own dream-like sensations. It would not have +surprised them to feel a summer breeze on their faces, or to see +the lights among the boughs reduplicated in the arch of a starry +sky. The strange solitude about them was no stranger than the +sweetness of being alone in it together. At length Lily withdrew +her hand, and moved away a step, so that her white-robed slimness +was outlined against the dusk of the branches. Selden followed her, +and still without speaking they seated themselves on a bench beside +the fountain. + +Suddenly she raised her eyes with the beseeching earnestness of a +child. “You never speak to me—you think hard things of me,” she +murmured. + +“I think of you at any rate, God knows!” he said. + +“Then why do we never see each other? Why can’t we be friends? +You promised once to help me,” she continued in the same tone, as +though the words were drawn from her unwillingly. + +“The only way I can help you is by loving you,” Selden said in a +low voice. + +She made no reply, but her face turned to him with the soft motion +of a flower. His own met it slowly, and their lips touched. She +drew back and rose from her seat. Selden rose too, and they stood +facing each other. Suddenly she caught his hand and pressed it a +moment against her cheek. + +“Ah, love me, love me—but don’t tell me so!” she sighed with her +eyes in his; and before he could speak she had turned and slipped +through the arch of boughs, disappearing in the brightness of the +room beyond. + +Selden stood where she had left him. He knew too well the +transiency of exquisite moments to attempt to follow her; but +presently he reentered the house and made his way through the +deserted rooms to the door. A few sumptuously-cloaked ladies were +already gathered in the marble vestibule, and in the coat-room he +found Van Alstyne and Gus Trenor. + +The former, at Selden’s approach, paused in the careful selection +of a cigar from one of the silver boxes invitingly set out near the +door. + +“Hallo, Selden, going too? You’re an Epicurean like myself, I see: +you don’t want to see all those goddesses gobbling terrapin. Gad, +what a show of good-looking women; but not one of ’em could touch +that little cousin of mine. Talk of jewels—what’s a woman want with +jewels when she’s got herself to show? The trouble is that all +these fal-bals they wear cover up their figures when they’ve got +’em. I never knew till tonight what an outline Lily has.” + +“It’s not her fault if everybody don’t know it now,” growled +Trenor, flushed with the struggle of getting into his fur-lined +coat. “Damned bad taste, I call it—no, no cigar for me. You can’t +tell what you’re smoking in one of these new houses—likely as not +the CHEF buys the cigars. Stay for supper? Not if I know it! When +people crowd their rooms so that you can’t get near any one you +want to speak to, I’d as soon sup in the elevated at the rush hour. +My wife was dead right to stay away: she says life’s too short to +spend it in breaking in new people.” + + + + +Chapter 13 + + +Lily woke from happy dreams to find two notes at her bed-side. + +One was from Mrs. Trenor, who announced that she was coming to town +that afternoon for a flying visit, and hoped Miss Bart would be +able to dine with her. The other was from Selden. He wrote briefly +that an important case called him to Albany, whence he would be +unable to return till the evening, and asked Lily to let him know +at what hour on the following day she would see him. + +Lily, leaning back among her pillows, gazed musingly at his +letter. The scene in the Brys’ conservatory had been like a part +of her dreams; she had not expected to wake to such evidence +of its reality. Her first movement was one of annoyance: this +unforeseen act of Selden’s added another complication to life. It +was so unlike him to yield to such an irrational impulse! Did he +really mean to ask her to marry him? She had once shown him the +impossibility of such a hope, and his subsequent behaviour seemed +to prove that he had accepted the situation with a reasonableness +somewhat mortifying to her vanity. It was all the more agreeable +to find that this reasonableness was maintained only at the cost +of not seeing her; but, though nothing in life was as sweet as the +sense of her power over him, she saw the danger of allowing the +episode of the previous night to have a sequel. Since she could +not marry him, it would be kinder to him, as well as easier for +herself, to write a line amicably evading his request to see her: +he was not the man to mistake such a hint, and when next they met +it would be on their usual friendly footing. + +Lily sprang out of bed, and went straight to her desk. She wanted +to write at once, while she could trust to the strength of her +resolve. She was still languid from her brief sleep and the +exhilaration of the evening, and the sight of Selden’s writing +brought back the culminating moment of her triumph: the moment +when she had read in his eyes that no philosophy was proof against +her power. It would be pleasant to have that sensation again . . . +no one else could give it to her in its fulness; and she could +not bear to mar her mood of luxurious retrospection by an act of +definite refusal. She took up her pen and wrote hastily: “TOMORROW +AT FOUR;” murmuring to herself, as she slipped the sheet into its +envelope: “I can easily put him off when tomorrow comes.” + + * * * * * + +Judy Trenor’s summons was very welcome to Lily. It was the first +time she had received a direct communication from Bellomont +since the close of her last visit there, and she was still +visited by the dread of having incurred Judy’s displeasure. +But this characteristic command seemed to reestablish their +former relations; and Lily smiled at the thought that her friend +had probably summoned her in order to hear about the Brys’ +entertainment. Mrs. Trenor had absented herself from the feast, +perhaps for the reason so frankly enunciated by her husband, +perhaps because, as Mrs. Fisher somewhat differently put it, she +“couldn’t bear new people when she hadn’t discovered them herself.” +At any rate, though she remained haughtily at Bellomont, Lily +suspected in her a devouring eagerness to hear of what she had +missed, and to learn exactly in what measure Mrs. Wellington Bry +had surpassed all previous competitors for social recognition. Lily +was quite ready to gratify this curiosity, but it happened that she +was dining out. She determined, however, to see Mrs. Trenor for a +few moments, and ringing for her maid she despatched a telegram to +say that she would be with her friend that evening at ten. + +She was dining with Mrs. Fisher, who had gathered at an informal +feast a few of the performers of the previous evening. There was +to be plantation music in the studio after dinner—for Mrs. Fisher, +despairing of the republic, had taken up modelling, and annexed to +her small crowded house a spacious apartment, which, whatever its +uses in her hours of plastic inspiration, served at other times for +the exercise of an indefatigable hospitality. Lily was reluctant +to leave, for the dinner was amusing, and she would have liked to +lounge over a cigarette and hear a few songs; but she could not +break her engagement with Judy, and shortly after ten she asked +her hostess to ring for a hansom, and drove up Fifth Avenue to the +Trenors’. + +She waited long enough on the doorstep to wonder that Judy’s +presence in town was not signalized by a greater promptness in +admitting her; and her surprise was increased when, instead of +the expected footman, pushing his shoulders into a tardy coat, +a shabby care-taking person in calico let her into the shrouded +hall. Trenor, however, appeared at once on the threshold of the +drawing-room, welcoming her with unusual volubility while he +relieved her of her cloak and drew her into the room. + +“Come along to the den; it’s the only comfortable place in the +house. Doesn’t this room look as if it was waiting for the body +to be brought down? Can’t see why Judy keeps the house wrapped up +in this awful slippery white stuff—it’s enough to give a fellow +pneumonia to walk through these rooms on a cold day. You look a +little pinched yourself, by the way: it’s rather a sharp night +out. I noticed it walking up from the club. Come along, and I’ll +give you a nip of brandy, and you can toast yourself over the fire +and try some of my new Egyptians—that little Turkish chap at the +Embassy put me on to a brand that I want you to try, and if you +like ’em I’ll get out a lot for you: they don’t have ’em here yet, +but I’ll cable.” + +He led her through the house to the large room at the back, where +Mrs. Trenor usually sat, and where, even in her absence, there was +an air of occupancy. Here, as usual, were flowers, newspapers, +a littered writing-table, and a general aspect of lamp-lit +familiarity, so that it was a surprise not to see Judy’s energetic +figure start up from the arm-chair near the fire. + +It was apparently Trenor himself who had been occupying the seat +in question, for it was overhung by a cloud of cigar smoke, and +near it stood one of those intricate folding tables which British +ingenuity has devised to facilitate the circulation of tobacco and +spirits. The sight of such appliances in a drawing-room was not +unusual in Lily’s set, where smoking and drinking were unrestricted +by considerations of time and place, and her first movement was +to help herself to one of the cigarettes recommended by Trenor, +while she checked his loquacity by asking, with a surprised glance: +“Where’s Judy?” + +Trenor, a little heated by his unusual flow of words, and perhaps +by prolonged propinquity with the decanters, was bending over the +latter to decipher their silver labels. + +“Here, now, Lily, just a drop of cognac in a little fizzy water—you +do look pinched, you know: I swear the end of your nose is red. +I’ll take another glass to keep you company—Judy?—Why, you see, +Judy’s got a devil of a head ache—quite knocked out with it, poor +thing—she asked me to explain—make it all right, you know—Do come +up to the fire, though; you look dead-beat, really. Now do let me +make you comfortable, there’s a good girl.” + +He had taken her hand, half-banteringly, and was drawing her toward +a low seat by the hearth; but she stopped and freed herself quietly. + +“Do you mean to say that Judy’s not well enough to see me? Doesn’t +she want me to go upstairs?” + +Trenor drained the glass he had filled for himself, and paused to +set it down before he answered. + +“Why, no—the fact is, she’s not up to seeing anybody. It came on +suddenly, you know, and she asked me to tell you how awfully sorry +she was—if she’d known where you were dining she’d have sent you +word.” + +“She did know where I was dining; I mentioned it in my telegram. +But it doesn’t matter, of course. I suppose if she’s so poorly she +won’t go back to Bellomont in the morning, and I can come and see +her then.” + +“Yes: exactly—that’s capital. I’ll tell her you’ll pop in tomorrow +morning. And now do sit down a minute, there’s a dear, and let’s +have a nice quiet jaw together. You won’t take a drop, just for +sociability? Tell me what you think of that cigarette. Why, don’t +you like it? What are you chucking it away for?” + +“I am chucking it away because I must go, if you’ll have the +goodness to call a cab for me,” Lily returned with a smile. + +She did not like Trenor’s unusual excitability, with its too +evident explanation, and the thought of being alone with him, +with her friend out of reach upstairs, at the other end of the +great empty house, did not conduce to a desire to prolong their +TETE-A-TETE. + +But Trenor, with a promptness which did not escape her, had moved +between herself and the door. + +“Why must you go, I should like to know? If Judy’d been here you’d +have sat gossiping till all hours—and you can’t even give me five +minutes! It’s always the same story. Last night I couldn’t get near +you—I went to that damned vulgar party just to see you, and there +was everybody talking about you, and asking me if I’d ever seen +anything so stunning, and when I tried to come up and say a word, +you never took any notice, but just went on laughing and joking +with a lot of asses who only wanted to be able to swagger about +afterward, and look knowing when you were mentioned.” + +He paused, flushed by his diatribe, and fixing on her a look in +which resentment was the ingredient she least disliked. But she +had regained her presence of mind, and stood composedly in the +middle of the room, while her slight smile seemed to put an ever +increasing distance between herself and Trenor. + +Across it she said: “Don’t be absurd, Gus. It’s past eleven, and I +must really ask you to ring for a cab.” + +He remained immovable, with the lowering forehead she had grown to +detest. + +“And supposing I won’t ring for one—what’ll you do then?” + +“I shall go upstairs to Judy if you force me to disturb her.” + +Trenor drew a step nearer and laid his hand on her arm. “Look here, +Lily: won’t you give me five minutes of your own accord?” + +“Not tonight, Gus: you——” + +“Very good, then: I’ll take ’em. And as many more as I want.” He +had squared himself on the threshold, his hands thrust deep in his +pockets. He nodded toward the chair on the hearth. + +“Go and sit down there, please: I’ve got a word to say to you.” + +Lily’s quick temper was getting the better of her fears. She drew +herself up and moved toward the door. + +“If you have anything to say to me, you must say it another time. I +shall go up to Judy unless you call a cab for me at once.” + +He burst into a laugh. “Go upstairs and welcome, my dear; but you +won’t find Judy. She ain’t there.” + +Lily cast a startled look upon him. “Do you mean that Judy is not +in the house—not in town?” she exclaimed. + +“That’s just what I do mean,” returned Trenor, his bluster sinking +to sullenness under her look. + +“Nonsense—I don’t believe you. I am going upstairs,” she said +impatiently. + +He drew unexpectedly aside, letting her reach the threshold +unimpeded. + +“Go up and welcome; but my wife is at Bellomont.” + +But Lily had a flash of reassurance. “If she hadn’t come she would +have sent me word——” + +“She did; she telephoned me this afternoon to let you know.” + +“I received no message.” + +“I didn’t send any.” + +The two measured each other for a moment, but Lily still saw her +opponent through a blur of scorn that made all other considerations +indistinct. + +“I can’t imagine your object in playing such a stupid trick on me; +but if you have fully gratified your peculiar sense of humour I +must again ask you to send for a cab.” + +It was the wrong note, and she knew it as she spoke. To be stung by +irony it is not necessary to understand it, and the angry streaks +on Trenor’s face might have been raised by an actual lash. + +“Look here, Lily, don’t take that high and mighty tone with me.” He +had again moved toward the door, and in her instinctive shrinking +from him she let him regain command of the threshold. “I DID play a +trick on you; I own up to it; but if you think I’m ashamed you’re +mistaken. Lord knows I’ve been patient enough—I’ve hung round and +looked like an ass. And all the while you were letting a lot of +other fellows make up to you . . . letting ’em make fun of me, +I daresay . . . I’m not sharp, and can’t dress my friends up to +look funny, as you do . . . but I can tell when it’s being done to +me.... I can tell fast enough when I’m made a fool of....” + +“Ah, I shouldn’t have thought that!” flashed from Lily; but her +laugh dropped to silence under his look. + +“No; you wouldn’t have thought it; but you’ll know better now. +That’s what you’re here for tonight. I’ve been waiting for a quiet +time to talk things over, and now I’ve got it I mean to make you +hear me out.” + +His first rush of inarticulate resentment had been followed by a +steadiness and concentration of tone more disconcerting to Lily +than the excitement preceding it. For a moment her presence of mind +forsook her. She had more than once been in situations where a +quick sword-play of wit had been needful to cover her retreat; but +her frightened heart-throbs told her that here such skill would not +avail. + +To gain time she repeated: “I don’t understand what you want.” + +Trenor had pushed a chair between herself and the door. He threw +himself in it, and leaned back, looking up at her. + +“I’ll tell you what I want: I want to know just where you and +I stand. Hang it, the man who pays for the dinner is generally +allowed to have a seat at table.” + +She flamed with anger and abasement, and the sickening need of +having to conciliate where she longed to humble. + +“I don’t know what you mean—but you must see, Gus, that I can’t +stay here talking to you at this hour——” + +“Gad, you go to men’s houses fast enough in broad day light—strikes +me you’re not always so deuced careful of appearances.” + +The brutality of the thrust gave her the sense of dizziness that +follows on a physical blow. Rosedale had spoken then—this was the +way men talked of her—She felt suddenly weak and defenceless: there +was a throb of self-pity in her throat. But all the while another +self was sharpening her to vigilance, whispering the terrified +warning that every word and gesture must be measured. + +“If you have brought me here to say insulting things——” she began. + +Trenor laughed. “Don’t talk stage-rot. I don’t want to insult you. +But a man’s got his feelings—and you’ve played with mine too long. +I didn’t begin this business—kept out of the way, and left the +track clear for the other chaps, till you rummaged me out and set +to work to make an ass of me—and an easy job you had of it, too. +That’s the trouble—it was too easy for you—you got reckless—thought +you could turn me inside out, and chuck me in the gutter like an +empty purse. But, by gad, that ain’t playing fair: that’s dodging +the rules of the game. Of course I know now what you wanted—it +wasn’t my beautiful eyes you were after—but I tell you what, Miss +Lily, you’ve got to pay up for making me think so——” + +He rose, squaring his shoulders aggressively, and stepped toward +her with a reddening brow; but she held her footing, though every +nerve tore at her to retreat as he advanced. + +“Pay up?” she faltered. “Do you mean that I owe you money?” + +He laughed again. “Oh, I’m not asking for payment in kind. But +there’s such a thing as fair play—and interest on one’s money—and +hang me if I’ve had as much as a look from you——” + +“Your money? What have I to do with your money? You advised me +how to invest mine . . . you must have seen I knew nothing of +business . . . you told me it was all right——” + +“It WAS all right—it is, Lily: you’re welcome to all of it, and ten +times more. I’m only asking for a word of thanks from you.” He was +closer still, with a hand that grew formidable; and the frightened +self in her was dragging the other down. + +“I HAVE thanked you; I’ve shown I was grateful. What more have you +done than any friend might do, or any one accept from a friend?” + +Trenor caught her up with a sneer. “I don’t doubt you’ve accepted +as much before—and chucked the other chaps as you’d like to chuck +me. I don’t care how you settled your score with them—if you fooled +’em I’m that much to the good. Don’t stare at me like that—I know +I’m not talking the way a man is supposed to talk to a girl—but, +hang it, if you don’t like it you can stop me quick enough—you know +I’m mad about you—damn the money, there’s plenty more of it—if THAT +bothers you.... I was a brute, Lily—Lily!—just look at me——” + +Over and over her the sea of humiliation broke—wave crashing on +wave so close that the moral shame was one with the physical +dread. It seemed to her that self-esteem would have made her +invulnerable—that it was her own dishonour which put a fearful +solitude about her. + +His touch was a shock to her drowning consciousness. She drew back +from him with a desperate assumption of scorn. + +“I’ve told you I don’t understand—but if I owe you money you shall +be paid——” + +Trenor’s face darkened to rage: her recoil of abhorrence had called +out the primitive man. + +“Ah—you’ll borrow from Selden or Rosedale—and take your chances of +fooling them as you’ve fooled me! Unless—unless you’ve settled your +other scores already—and I’m the only one left out in the cold!” + +She stood silent, frozen to her place. The words—the words were +worse than the touch! Her heart was beating all over her body—in +her throat, her limbs, her helpless useless hands. Her eyes +travelled despairingly about the room—they lit on the bell, and +she remembered that help was in call. Yes, but scandal with it—a +hideous mustering of tongues. No, she must fight her way out alone. +It was enough that the servants knew her to be in the house with +Trenor—there must be nothing to excite conjecture in her way of +leaving it. + +She raised her head, and achieved a last clear look at him. + +“I am here alone with you,” she said. “What more have you to say?” + +To her surprise, Trenor answered the look with a speechless stare. +With his last gust of words the flame had died out, leaving him +chill and humbled. It was as though a cold air had dispersed the +fumes of his libations, and the situation loomed before him black +and naked as the ruins of a fire. Old habits, old restraints, the +hand of inherited order, plucked back the bewildered mind which +passion had jolted from its ruts. Trenor’s eye had the haggard look +of the sleep-walker waked on a deathly ledge. + +“Go home! Go away from here”——he stammered, and turning his back on +her walked toward the hearth. + +The sharp release from her fears restored Lily to immediate +lucidity. The collapse of Trenor’s will left her in control, and +she heard herself, in a voice that was her own yet outside herself, +bidding him ring for the servant, bidding him give the order for +a hansom, directing him to put her in it when it came. Whence the +strength came to her she knew not; but an insistent voice warned +her that she must leave the house openly, and nerved her, in the +hall before the hovering care taker, to exchange light words with +Trenor, and charge him with the usual messages for Judy, while all +the while she shook with inward loathing. On the doorstep, with the +street before her, she felt a mad throb of liberation, intoxicating +as the prisoner’s first draught of free air; but the clearness of +brain continued, and she noted the mute aspect of Fifth Avenue, +guessed at the lateness of the hour, and even observed a man’s +figure—was there something half-familiar in its outline?—which, +as she entered the hansom, turned from the opposite corner and +vanished in the obscurity of the side street. + +But with the turn of the wheels reaction came, and shuddering +darkness closed on her. “I can’t think—I can’t think,” she moaned, +and leaned her head against the rattling side of the cab. She +seemed a stranger to herself, or rather there were two selves +in her, the one she had always known, and a new abhorrent being +to which it found itself chained. She had once picked up, in a +house where she was staying, a translation of the EUMENIDES, and +her imagination had been seized by the high terror of the scene +where Orestes, in the cave of the oracle, finds his implacable +huntresses asleep, and snatches an hour’s repose. Yes, the Furies +might sometimes sleep, but they were there, always there in the +dark corners, and now they were awake and the iron clang of their +wings was in her brain.... She opened her eyes and saw the streets +passing—the familiar alien streets. All she looked on was the +same and yet changed. There was a great gulf fixed between today +and yesterday. Everything in the past seemed simple, natural, +full of daylight—and she was alone in a place of darkness and +pollution.—Alone! It was the loneliness that frightened her. Her +eyes fell on an illuminated clock at a street corner, and she saw +that the hands marked the half hour after eleven. Only half-past +eleven—there were hours and hours left of the night! And she +must spend them alone, shuddering sleepless on her bed. Her soft +nature recoiled from this ordeal, which had none of the stimulus +of conflict to goad her through it. Oh, the slow cold drip of the +minutes on her head! She had a vision of herself lying on the +black walnut bed—and the darkness would frighten her, and if she +left the light burning the dreary details of the room would brand +themselves forever on her brain. She had always hated her room at +Mrs. Peniston’s—its ugliness, its impersonality, the fact that +nothing in it was really hers. To a torn heart uncomforted by +human nearness a room may open almost human arms, and the being to +whom no four walls mean more than any others, is, at such hours, +expatriate everywhere. + +Lily had no heart to lean on. Her relation with her aunt was as +superficial as that of chance lodgers who pass on the stairs. But +even had the two been in closer contact, it was impossible to think +of Mrs. Peniston’s mind as offering shelter or comprehension to +such misery as Lily’s. As the pain that can be told is but half a +pain, so the pity that questions has little healing in its touch. +What Lily craved was the darkness made by enfolding arms, the +silence which is not solitude, but compassion holding its breath. + +She started up and looked forth on the passing streets. Gerty!—they +were nearing Gerty’s corner. If only she could reach there before +this labouring anguish burst from her breast to her lips—if only +she could feel the hold of Gerty’s arms while she shook in the +ague-fit of fear that was coming upon her! She pushed up the door +in the roof and called the address to the driver. It was not +so late—Gerty might still be waking. And even if she were not, +the sound of the bell would penetrate every recess of her tiny +apartment, and rouse her to answer her friend’s call. + + + + +Chapter 14 + + +Gerty Farish, the morning after the Wellington Brys’ entertainment, +woke from dreams as happy as Lily’s. If they were less vivid in +hue, more subdued to the half-tints of her personality and her +experience, they were for that very reason better suited to her +mental vision. Such flashes of joy as Lily moved in would have +blinded Miss Farish, who was accustomed, in the way of happiness, +to such scant light as shone through the cracks of other people’s +lives. + +Now she was the centre of a little illumination of her own: a mild +but unmistakable beam, compounded of Lawrence Selden’s growing +kindness to herself and the discovery that he extended his liking +to Lily Bart. If these two factors seem incompatible to the student +of feminine psychology, it must be remembered that Gerty had always +been a parasite in the moral order, living on the crumbs of other +tables, and content to look through the window at the banquet +spread for her friends. Now that she was enjoying a little private +feast of her own, it would have seemed incredibly selfish not to +lay a plate for a friend; and there was no one with whom she would +rather have shared her enjoyment than Miss Bart. + +As to the nature of Selden’s growing kindness, Gerty would no +more have dared to define it than she would have tried to learn +a butterfly’s colours by knocking the dust from its wings. To +seize on the wonder would be to brush off its bloom, and perhaps +see it fade and stiffen in her hand: better the sense of beauty +palpitating out of reach, while she held her breath and watched +where it would alight. Yet Selden’s manner at the Brys’ had brought +the flutter of wings so close that they seemed to be beating in +her own heart. She had never seen him so alert, so responsive, +so attentive to what she had to say. His habitual manner had an +absent-minded kindliness which she accepted, and was grateful for, +as the liveliest sentiment her presence was likely to inspire; but +she was quick to feel in him a change implying that for once she +could give pleasure as well as receive it. + +And it was so delightful that this higher degree of sympathy should +be reached through their interest in Lily Bart! + +Gerty’s affection for her friend—a sentiment that had learned +to keep itself alive on the scantiest diet—had grown to active +adoration since Lily’s restless curiosity had drawn her into the +circle of Miss Farish’s work. Lily’s taste of beneficence had +wakened in her a momentary appetite for well-doing. Her visit to +the Girls’ Club had first brought her in contact with the dramatic +contrasts of life. She had always accepted with philosophic +calm the fact that such existences as hers were pedestalled on +foundations of obscure humanity. The dreary limbo of dinginess lay +all around and beneath that little illuminated circle in which life +reached its finest efflorescence, as the mud and sleet of a winter +night enclose a hot-house filled with tropical flowers. All this +was in the natural order of things, and the orchid basking in its +artificially created atmosphere could round the delicate curves of +its petals undisturbed by the ice on the panes. + +But it is one thing to live comfortably with the abstract +conception of poverty, another to be brought in contact with its +human embodiments. Lily had never conceived of these victims of +fate otherwise than in the mass. That the mass was composed of +individual lives, innumerable separate centres of sensation, with +her own eager reachings for pleasure, her own fierce revulsions +from pain—that some of these bundles of feeling were clothed in +shapes not so unlike her own, with eyes meant to look on gladness, +and young lips shaped for love—this discovery gave Lily one of +those sudden shocks of pity that sometimes decentralize a life. +Lily’s nature was incapable of such renewal: she could feel other +demands only through her own, and no pain was long vivid which +did not press on an answering nerve. But for the moment she was +drawn out of herself by the interest of her direct relation with +a world so unlike her own. She had supplemented her first gift by +personal assistance to one or two of Miss Farish’s most appealing +subjects, and the admiration and interest her presence excited +among the tired workers at the club ministered in a new form to her +insatiable desire to please. + +Gerty Farish was not a close enough reader of character to +disentangle the mixed threads of which Lily’s philanthropy was +woven. She supposed her beautiful friend to be actuated by the +same motive as herself—that sharpening of the moral vision which +makes all human suffering so near and insistent that the other +aspects of life fade into remoteness. Gerty lived by such simple +formulas that she did not hesitate to class her friend’s state +with the emotional “change of heart” to which her dealings with +the poor had accustomed her; and she rejoiced in the thought that +she had been the humble instrument of this renewal. Now she had +an answer to all criticisms of Lily’s conduct: as she had said, +she knew “the real Lily,” and the discovery that Selden shared her +knowledge raised her placid acceptance of life to a dazzled sense +of its possibilities—a sense farther enlarged, in the course of the +afternoon, by the receipt of a telegram from Selden asking if he +might dine with her that evening. + +While Gerty was lost in the happy bustle which this announcement +produced in her small household, Selden was at one with her in +thinking with intensity of Lily Bart. The case which had called him +to Albany was not complicated enough to absorb all his attention, +and he had the professional faculty of keeping a part of his mind +free when its services were not needed. This part—which at the +moment seemed dangerously like the whole—was filled to the brim +with the sensations of the previous evening. Selden understood the +symptoms: he recognized the fact that he was paying up, as there +had always been a chance of his having to pay up, for the voluntary +exclusions of his past. He had meant to keep free from permanent +ties, not from any poverty of feeling, but because, in a different +way, he was, as much as Lily, the victim of his environment. There +had been a germ of truth in his declaration to Gerty Farish that he +had never wanted to marry a “nice” girl: the adjective connoting, +in his cousin’s vocabulary, certain utilitarian qualities which +are apt to preclude the luxury of charm. Now it had been Selden’s +fate to have a charming mother: her graceful portrait, all smiles +and Cashmere, still emitted a faded scent of the undefinable +quality. His father was the kind of man who delights in a charming +woman: who quotes her, stimulates her, and keeps her perennially +charming. Neither one of the couple cared for money, but their +disdain of it took the form of always spending a little more than +was prudent. If their house was shabby, it was exquisitely kept; if +there were good books on the shelves there were also good dishes +on the table. Selden senior had an eye for a picture, his wife an +understanding of old lace; and both were so conscious of restraint +and discrimination in buying that they never quite knew how it was +that the bills mounted up. + +Though many of Selden’s friends would have called his parents poor, +he had grown up in an atmosphere where restricted means were felt +only as a check on aimless profusion: where the few possessions +were so good that their rarity gave them a merited relief, and +abstinence was combined with elegance in a way exemplified by Mrs. +Selden’s knack of wearing her old velvet as if it were new. A man +has the advantage of being delivered early from the home point of +view, and before Selden left college he had learned that there +are as many different ways of going without money as of spending +it. Unfortunately, he found no way as agreeable as that practised +at home; and his views of womankind in especial were tinged by +the remembrance of the one woman who had given him his sense of +“values.” It was from her that he inherited his detachment from +the sumptuary side of life: the stoic’s carelessness of material +things, combined with the Epicurean’s pleasure in them. Life shorn +of either feeling appeared to him a diminished thing; and nowhere +was the blending of the two ingredients so essential as in the +character of a pretty woman. + +It had always seemed to Selden that experience offered a great deal +besides the sentimental adventure, yet he could vividly conceive of +a love which should broaden and deepen till it became the central +fact of life. What he could not accept, in his own case, was the +makeshift alternative of a relation that should be less than this: +that should leave some portions of his nature unsatisfied, while it +put an undue strain on others. He would not, in other words, yield +to the growth of an affection which might appeal to pity yet leave +the understanding untouched: sympathy should no more delude him +than a trick of the eyes, the grace of helplessness than a curve of +the cheek. + +But now—that little BUT passed like a sponge over all his vows. +His reasoned-out resistances seemed for the moment so much less +important than the question as to when Lily would receive his +note! He yielded himself to the charm of trivial preoccupations, +wondering at what hour her reply would be sent, with what words +it would begin. As to its import he had no doubt—he was as sure +of her surrender as of his own. And so he had leisure to muse on +all its exquisite details, as a hard worker, on a holiday morning, +might lie still and watch the beam of light travel gradually +across his room. But if the new light dazzled, it did not blind +him. He could still discern the outline of facts, though his own +relation to them had changed. He was no less conscious than before +of what was said of Lily Bart, but he could separate the woman he +knew from the vulgar estimate of her. His mind turned to Gerty +Farish’s words, and the wisdom of the world seemed a groping thing +beside the insight of innocence. BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART, +FOR THEY SHALL SEE GOD—even the hidden god in their neighbour’s +breast! Selden was in the state of impassioned self-absorption +that the first surrender to love produces. His craving was for the +companionship of one whose point of view should justify his own, +who should confirm, by deliberate observation, the truth to which +his intuitions had leaped. He could not wait for the midday recess, +but seized a moment’s leisure in court to scribble his telegram to +Gerty Farish. + +Reaching town, he was driven direct to his club, where he hoped a +note from Miss Bart might await him. But his box contained only +a line of rapturous assent from Gerty, and he was turning away +disappointed when he was hailed by a voice from the smoking room. + +“Hallo, Lawrence! Dining here? Take a bite with me—I’ve ordered a +canvas-back.” + +He discovered Trenor, in his day clothes, sitting, with a tall +glass at his elbow, behind the folds of a sporting journal. + +Selden thanked him, but pleaded an engagement. + +“Hang it, I believe every man in town has an engagement tonight. I +shall have the club to myself. You know how I’m living this winter, +rattling round in that empty house. My wife meant to come to town +today, but she’s put it off again, and how is a fellow to dine +alone in a room with the looking-glasses covered, and nothing but +a bottle of Harvey sauce on the sideboard? I say, Lawrence, chuck +your engagement and take pity on me—it gives me the blue devils to +dine alone, and there’s nobody but that canting ass Wetherall in +the club.” + +“Sorry, Gus—I can’t do it.” + +As Selden turned away, he noticed the dark flush on Trenor’s face, +the unpleasant moisture of his intensely white forehead, the way +his jewelled rings were wedged in the creases of his fat red +fingers. Certainly the beast was predominating—the beast at the +bottom of the glass. And he had heard this man’s name coupled with +Lily’s! Bah—the thought sickened him; all the way back to his rooms +he was haunted by the sight of Trenor’s fat creased hands—— + +On his table lay the note: Lily had sent it to his rooms. He knew +what was in it before he broke the seal—a grey seal with BEYOND! +beneath a flying ship. Ah, he would take her beyond—beyond the +ugliness, the pettiness, the attrition and corrosion of the soul—— + + * * * * * + +Gerty’s little sitting-room sparkled with welcome when Selden +entered it. Its modest “effects,” compact of enamel paint and +ingenuity, spoke to him in the language just then sweetest to his +ear. It is surprising how little narrow walls and a low ceiling +matter, when the roof of the soul has suddenly been raised. Gerty +sparkled too; or at least shone with a tempered radiance. He had +never before noticed that she had “points”—really, some good fellow +might do worse.... Over the little dinner (and here, again, the +effects were wonderful) he told her she ought to marry—he was in a +mood to pair off the whole world. She had made the caramel custard +with her own hands? It was sinful to keep such gifts to herself. +He reflected with a throb of pride that Lily could trim her own +hats—she had told him so the day of their walk at Bellomont. + +He did not speak of Lily till after dinner. During the little +repast he kept the talk on his hostess, who, fluttered at being +the centre of observation, shone as rosy as the candle-shades she +had manufactured for the occasion. Selden evinced an extraordinary +interest in her household arrangements: complimented her on the +ingenuity with which she had utilized every inch of her small +quarters, asked how her servant managed about afternoons out, +learned that one may improvise delicious dinners in a chafing-dish, +and uttered thoughtful generalizations on the burden of a large +establishment. + +When they were in the sitting-room again, where they fitted as +snugly as bits in a puzzle, and she had brewed the coffee, and +poured it into her grandmother’s egg-shell cups, his eye, as he +leaned back, basking in the warm fragrance, lighted on a recent +photograph of Miss Bart, and the desired transition was effected +without an effort. The photograph was well enough—but to catch +her as she had looked last night! Gerty agreed with him—never had +she been so radiant. But could photography capture that light? +There had been a new look in her face—something different; yes, +Selden agreed there had been something different. The coffee was +so exquisite that he asked for a second cup: such a contrast to +the watery stuff at the club! Ah, your poor bachelor with his +impersonal club fare, alternating with the equally impersonal +CUISINE of the dinner-party! A man who lived in lodgings missed +the best part of life—he pictured the flavourless solitude of +Trenor’s repast, and felt a moment’s compassion for the man.... But +to return to Lily—and again and again he returned, questioning, +conjecturing, leading Gerty on, draining her inmost thoughts of +their stored tenderness for her friend. + +At first she poured herself out unstintingly, happy in this perfect +communion of their sympathies. His understanding of Lily helped +to confirm her own belief in her friend. They dwelt together on +the fact that Lily had had no chance. Gerty instanced her generous +impulses—her restlessness and discontent. The fact that her life +had never satisfied her proved that she was made for better things. +She might have married more than once—the conventional rich +marriage which she had been taught to consider the sole end of +existence—but when the opportunity came she had always shrunk from +it. Percy Gryce, for instance, had been in love with her—every one +at Bellomont had supposed them to be engaged, and her dismissal +of him was thought inexplicable. This view of the Gryce incident +chimed too well with Selden’s mood not to be instantly adopted +by him, with a flash of retrospective contempt for what had once +seemed the obvious solution. If rejection there had been—and he +wondered now that he had ever doubted it!—then he held the key to +the secret, and the hillsides of Bellomont were lit up, not with +sunset, but with dawn. It was he who had wavered and disowned the +face of opportunity—and the joy now warming his breast might have +been a familiar inmate if he had captured it in its first flight. + +It was at this point, perhaps, that a joy just trying its +wings in Gerty’s heart dropped to earth and lay still. She sat +facing Selden, repeating mechanically: “No, she has never been +understood——” and all the while she herself seemed to be sitting +in the centre of a great glare of comprehension. The little +confidential room, where a moment ago their thoughts had touched +elbows like their chairs, grew to unfriendly vastness, separating +her from Selden by all the length of her new vision of the +future—and that future stretched out interminably, with her lonely +figure toiling down it, a mere speck on the solitude. + +“She is herself with a few people only; and you are one of them,” +she heard Selden saying. And again: “Be good to her, Gerty, won’t +you?” and: “She has it in her to become whatever she is believed to +be—you’ll help her by believing the best of her?” + +The words beat on Gerty’s brain like the sound of a language which +has seemed familiar at a distance, but on approaching is found to +be unintelligible. He had come to talk to her of Lily—that was all! +There had been a third at the feast she had spread for him, and +that third had taken her own place. She tried to follow what he +was saying, to cling to her own part in the talk—but it was all as +meaningless as the boom of waves in a drowning head, and she felt, +as the drowning may feel, that to sink would be nothing beside the +pain of struggling to keep up. + +Selden rose, and she drew a deep breath, feeling that soon she +could yield to the blessed waves. + +“Mrs. Fisher’s? You say she was dining there? There’s music +afterward; I believe I had a card from her.” He glanced at the +foolish pink-faced clock that was drumming out this hideous hour. +“A quarter past ten? I might look in there now; the Fisher evenings +are amusing. I haven’t kept you up too late, Gerty? You look +tired—I’ve rambled on and bored you.” And in the unwonted overflow +of his feelings, he left a cousinly kiss upon her cheek. + + * * * * * + +At Mrs. Fisher’s, through the cigar smoke of the studio, a dozen +voices greeted Selden. A song was pending as he entered, and he +dropped into a seat near his hostess, his eyes roaming in search +of Miss Bart. But she was not there, and the discovery gave him a +pang out of all proportion to its seriousness; since the note in +his breast-pocket assured him that at four the next day they would +meet. To his impatience it seemed immeasurably long to wait, and +half-ashamed of the impulse, he leaned to Mrs. Fisher to ask, as +the music ceased, if Miss Bart had not dined with her. + +“Lily? She’s just gone. She had to run off, I forget where. Wasn’t +she wonderful last night?” + +“Who’s that? Lily?” asked Jack Stepney, from the depths of a +neighbouring arm-chair. “Really, you know, I’m no prude, but when +it comes to a girl standing there as if she was up at auction—I +thought seriously of speaking to cousin Julia.” + +“You didn’t know Jack had become our social censor?” Mrs. Fisher +said to Selden with a laugh; and Stepney spluttered, amid the +general derision: “But she’s a cousin, hang it, and when a man’s +married—TOWN TALK was full of her this morning.” + +“Yes: lively reading that was,” said Mr. Ned Van Alstyne, stroking +his moustache to hide the smile behind it. “Buy the dirty sheet? +No, of course not; some fellow showed it to me—but I’d heard the +stories before. When a girl’s as good-looking as that she’d better +marry; then no questions are asked. In our imperfectly organized +society there is no provision as yet for the young woman who claims +the privileges of marriage without assuming its obligations.” + +“Well, I understand Lily is about to assume them in the shape of +Mr. Rosedale,” Mrs. Fisher said with a laugh. + +“Rosedale—good heavens!” exclaimed Van Alstyne, dropping his +eye-glass. “Stepney, that’s your fault for foisting the brute on +us.” + +“Oh, confound it, you know, we don’t MARRY Rosedale in our family,” +Stepney languidly protested; but his wife, who sat in oppressive +bridal finery at the other side of the room, quelled him with the +judicial reflection: “In Lily’s circumstances it’s a mistake to +have too high a standard.” + +“I hear even Rosedale has been scared by the talk lately,” Mrs. +Fisher rejoined; “but the sight of her last night sent him off his +head. What do you think he said to me after her TABLEAU? ‘My God, +Mrs. Fisher, if I could get Paul Morpeth to paint her like that, +the picture’d appreciate a hundred per cent in ten years.’” + +“By Jove,—but isn’t she about somewhere?” exclaimed Van Alstyne, +restoring his glass with an uneasy glance. + +“No; she ran off while you were all mixing the punch down stairs. +Where was she going, by the way? What’s on tonight? I hadn’t heard +of anything.” + +“Oh, not a party, I think,” said an inexperienced young Farish who +had arrived late. “I put her in her cab as I was coming in, and she +gave the driver the Trenors’ address.” + +“The Trenors’?” exclaimed Mrs. Jack Stepney. “Why, the house is +closed—Judy telephoned me from Bellomont this evening.” + +“Did she? That’s queer. I’m sure I’m not mistaken. Well, come now, +Trenor’s there, anyhow—I—oh, well—the fact is, I’ve no head for +numbers,” he broke off, admonished by the nudge of an adjoining +foot, and the smile that circled the room. + +In its unpleasant light Selden had risen and was shaking hands with +his hostess. The air of the place stifled him, and he wondered why +he had stayed in it so long. + +On the doorstep he stood still, remembering a phrase of Lily’s: +“It seems to me you spend a good deal of time in the element you +disapprove of.” + +Well—what had brought him there but the quest of her? It was her +element, not his. But he would lift her out of it, take her beyond! +That BEYOND! on her letter was like a cry for rescue. He knew +that Perseus’s task is not done when he has loosed Andromeda’s +chains, for her limbs are numb with bondage, and she cannot rise +and walk, but clings to him with dragging arms as he beats back to +land with his burden. Well, he had strength for both—it was her +weakness which had put the strength in him. It was not, alas, a +clean rush of waves they had to win through, but a clogging morass +of old associations and habits, and for the moment its vapours +were in his throat. But he would see clearer, breathe freer in her +presence: she was at once the dead weight at his breast and the +spar which should float them to safety. He smiled at the whirl of +metaphor with which he was trying to build up a defence against the +influences of the last hour. It was pitiable that he, who knew the +mixed motives on which social judgments depend, should still feel +himself so swayed by them. How could he lift Lily to a freer vision +of life, if his own view of her was to be coloured by any mind in +which he saw her reflected? + +The moral oppression had produced a physical craving for air, and +he strode on, opening his lungs to the reverberating coldness of +the night. At the corner of Fifth Avenue Van Alstyne hailed him +with an offer of company. + +“Walking? A good thing to blow the smoke out of one’s head. Now +that women have taken to tobacco we live in a bath of nicotine. +It would be a curious thing to study the effect of cigarettes on +the relation of the sexes. Smoke is almost as great a solvent as +divorce: both tend to obscure the moral issue.” + +Nothing could have been less consonant with Selden’s mood than +Van Alstyne’s after-dinner aphorisms, but as long as the latter +confined himself to generalities his listener’s nerves were in +control. Happily Van Alstyne prided himself on his summing-up of +social aspects, and with Selden for audience was eager to show the +sureness of his touch. Mrs. Fisher lived in an East side street +near the Park, and as the two men walked down Fifth Avenue the new +architectural developments of that versatile thoroughfare invited +Van Alstyne’s comment. + +“That Greiner house, now—a typical rung in the social ladder! The +man who built it came from a MILIEU where all the dishes are put +on the table at once. His facade is a complete architectural meal; +if he had omitted a style his friends might have thought the money +had given out. Not a bad purchase for Rosedale, though: attracts +attention, and awes the Western sight-seer. By and bye he’ll get +out of that phase, and want something that the crowd will pass and +the few pause before. Especially if he marries my clever cousin——” + +Selden dashed in with the query: “And the Wellington Brys’? Rather +clever of its kind, don’t you think?” + +They were just beneath the wide white facade, with its rich +restraint of line, which suggested the clever corseting of a +redundant figure. + +“That’s the next stage: the desire to imply that one has been to +Europe, and has a standard. I’m sure Mrs. Bry thinks her house +a copy of the TRIANON; in America every marble house with gilt +furniture is thought to be a copy of the TRIANON. What a clever +chap that architect is, though—how he takes his client’s measure! +He has put the whole of Mrs. Bry in his use of the composite +order. Now for the Trenors, you remember, he chose the Corinthian: +exuberant, but based on the best precedent. The Trenor house is +one of his best things—doesn’t look like a banqueting-hall turned +inside out. I hear Mrs. Trenor wants to build out a new ball-room, +and that divergence from Gus on that point keeps her at Bellomont. +The dimensions of the Brys’ ball-room must rankle: you may be sure +she knows ’em as well as if she’d been there last night with a +yard-measure. Who said she was in town, by the way? That Farish +boy? She isn’t, I know; Mrs. Stepney was right; the house is dark, +you see: I suppose Gus lives in the back.” + +He had halted opposite the Trenors’ corner, and Selden perforce +stayed his steps also. The house loomed obscure and uninhabited; +only an oblong gleam above the door spoke of provisional occupancy. + +“They’ve bought the house at the back: it gives them a hundred and +fifty feet in the side street. There’s where the ball-room’s to +be, with a gallery connecting it: billiard-room and so on above. +I suggested changing the entrance, and carrying the drawing-room +across the whole Fifth Avenue front; you see the front door +corresponds with the windows——” + +The walking-stick which Van Alstyne swung in demonstration dropped +to a startled “Hallo!” as the door opened and two figures were seen +silhouetted against the hall-light. At the same moment a hansom +halted at the curb-stone, and one of the figures floated down to it +in a haze of evening draperies; while the other, black and bulky, +remained persistently projected against the light. + +For an immeasurable second the two spectators of the incident were +silent; then the house-door closed, the hansom rolled off, and the +whole scene slipped by as if with the turn of a stereopticon. + +Van Alstyne dropped his eye-glass with a low whistle. + +“A—hem—nothing of this, eh, Selden? As one of the family, I know I +may count on you—appearances are deceptive—and Fifth Avenue is so +imperfectly lighted——” + +“Goodnight,” said Selden, turning sharply down the side street +without seeing the other’s extended hand. + + * * * * * + +Alone with her cousin’s kiss, Gerty stared upon her thoughts. He +had kissed her before—but not with another woman on his lips. If +he had spared her that she could have drowned quietly, welcoming +the dark flood as it submerged her. But now the flood was shot +through with glory, and it was harder to drown at sunrise than in +darkness. Gerty hid her face from the light, but it pierced to the +crannies of her soul. She had been so contented, life had seemed +so simple and sufficient—why had he come to trouble her with new +hopes? And Lily—Lily, her best friend! Woman-like, she accused +the woman. Perhaps, had it not been for Lily, her fond imagining +might have become truth. Selden had always liked her—had understood +and sympathized with the modest independence of her life. He, who +had the reputation of weighing all things in the nice balance of +fastidious perceptions, had been uncritical and simple in his view +of her: his cleverness had never overawed her because she had felt +at home in his heart. And now she was thrust out, and the door +barred against her by Lily’s hand! Lily, for whose admission there +she herself had pleaded! The situation was lighted up by a dreary +flash of irony. She knew Selden—she saw how the force of her faith +in Lily must have helped to dispel his hesitations. She remembered, +too, how Lily had talked of him—she saw herself bringing the two +together, making them known to each other. On Selden’s part, no +doubt, the wound inflicted was inconscient; he had never guessed +her foolish secret; but Lily—Lily must have known! When, in such +matters, are a woman’s perceptions at fault? And if she knew, then +she had deliberately despoiled her friend, and in mere wantonness +of power, since, even to Gerty’s suddenly flaming jealousy, it +seemed incredible that Lily should wish to be Selden’s wife. Lily +might be incapable of marrying for money, but she was equally +incapable of living without it, and Selden’s eager investigations +into the small economies of house-keeping made him appear to Gerty +as tragically duped as herself. + +She remained long in her sitting-room, where the embers were +crumbling to cold grey, and the lamp paled under its gay shade. +Just beneath it stood the photograph of Lily Bart, looking out +imperially on the cheap gimcracks, the cramped furniture of the +little room. Could Selden picture her in such an interior? Gerty +felt the poverty, the insignificance of her surroundings: she +beheld her life as it must appear to Lily. And the cruelty of +Lily’s judgments smote upon her memory. She saw that she had +dressed her idol with attributes of her own making. When had Lily +ever really felt, or pitied, or understood? All she wanted was +the taste of new experiences: she seemed like some cruel creature +experimenting in a laboratory. + +The pink-faced clock drummed out another hour, and Gerty rose with +a start. She had an appointment early the next morning with a +district visitor on the East side. She put out her lamp, covered +the fire, and went into her bedroom to undress. In the little glass +above her dressing-table she saw her face reflected against the +shadows of the room, and tears blotted the reflection. What right +had she to dream the dreams of loveliness? A dull face invited a +dull fate. She cried quietly as she undressed, laying aside her +clothes with her habitual precision, setting everything in order +for the next day, when the old life must be taken up as though +there had been no break in its routine. Her servant did not come +till eight o’clock, and she prepared her own tea-tray and placed it +beside the bed. Then she locked the door of the flat, extinguished +her light and lay down. But on her bed sleep would not come, and +she lay face to face with the fact that she hated Lily Bart. It +closed with her in the darkness like some formless evil to be +blindly grappled with. Reason, judgment, renunciation, all the +sane daylight forces, were beaten back in the sharp struggle for +self-preservation. She wanted happiness—wanted it as fiercely and +unscrupulously as Lily did, but without Lily’s power of obtaining +it. And in her conscious impotence she lay shivering, and hated her +friend—— + +A ring at the door-bell caught her to her feet. She struck a +light and stood startled, listening. For a moment her heart beat +incoherently, then she felt the sobering touch of fact, and +remembered that such calls were not unknown in her charitable work. +She flung on her dressing-gown to answer the summons, and unlocking +her door, confronted the shining vision of Lily Bart. + +Gerty’s first movement was one of revulsion. She shrank back as +though Lily’s presence flashed too sudden a light upon her misery. +Then she heard her name in a cry, had a glimpse of her friend’s +face, and felt herself caught and clung to. + +“Lily—what is it?” she exclaimed. + +Miss Bart released her, and stood breathing brokenly, like one who +has gained shelter after a long flight. + +“I was so cold—I couldn’t go home. Have you a fire?” + +Gerty’s compassionate instincts, responding to the swift call of +habit, swept aside all her reluctances. Lily was simply some one +who needed help—for what reason, there was no time to pause and +conjecture: disciplined sympathy checked the wonder on Gerty’s +lips, and made her draw her friend silently into the sitting-room +and seat her by the darkened hearth. + +“There is kindling wood here: the fire will burn in a minute.” + +She knelt down, and the flame leapt under her rapid hands. It +flashed strangely through the tears which still blurred her eyes, +and smote on the white ruin of Lily’s face. The girls looked at +each other in silence; then Lily repeated: “I couldn’t go home.” + +“No—no—you came here, dear! You’re cold and tired—sit quiet, and +I’ll make you some tea.” + +Gerty had unconsciously adopted the soothing note of her trade: +all personal feeling was merged in the sense of ministry, and +experience had taught her that the bleeding must be stayed before +the wound is probed. + +Lily sat quiet, leaning to the fire: the clatter of cups behind her +soothed her as familiar noises hush a child whom silence has kept +wakeful. But when Gerty stood at her side with the tea she pushed +it away, and turned an estranged eye on the familiar room. + +“I came here because I couldn’t bear to be alone,” she said. + +Gerty set down the cup and knelt beside her. + +“Lily! Something has happened—can’t you tell me?” + +“I couldn’t bear to lie awake in my room till morning. I hate my +room at Aunt Julia’s—so I came here——” + +She stirred suddenly, broke from her apathy, and clung to Gerty in +a fresh burst of fear. + +“Oh, Gerty, the furies . . . you know the noise of their +wings—alone, at night, in the dark? But you don’t know—there is +nothing to make the dark dreadful to you——” + +The words, flashing back on Gerty’s last hours, struck from her a +faint derisive murmur; but Lily, in the blaze of her own misery, +was blinded to everything outside it. + +“You’ll let me stay? I shan’t mind when daylight comes—Is +it late? Is the night nearly over? It must be awful to be +sleepless—everything stands by the bed and stares——” + +Miss Farish caught her straying hands. “Lily, look at me! Something +has happened—an accident? You have been frightened—what has +frightened you? Tell me if you can—a word or two—so that I can help +you.” + +Lily shook her head. + +“I am not frightened: that’s not the word. Can you imagine looking +into your glass some morning and seeing a disfigurement—some +hideous change that has come to you while you slept? Well, I seem +to myself like that—I can’t bear to see myself in my own thoughts—I +hate ugliness, you know—I’ve always turned from it—but I can’t +explain to you—you wouldn’t understand.” + +She lifted her head and her eyes fell on the clock. + +“How long the night is! And I know I shan’t sleep tomorrow. Some +one told me my father used to lie sleepless and think of horrors. +And he was not wicked, only unfortunate—and I see now how he must +have suffered, lying alone with his thoughts! But I am bad—a bad +girl—all my thoughts are bad—I have always had bad people about +me. Is that any excuse? I thought I could manage my own life—I was +proud—proud! but now I’m on their level——” + +Sobs shook her, and she bowed to them like a tree in a dry storm. + +Gerty knelt beside her, waiting, with the patience born of +experience, till this gust of misery should loosen fresh speech. +She had first imagined some physical shock, some peril of the +crowded streets, since Lily was presumably on her way home from +Carry Fisher’s; but she now saw that other nerve-centres were +smitten, and her mind trembled back from conjecture. + +Lily’s sobs ceased, and she lifted her head. + +“There are bad girls in your slums. Tell me—do they ever pick +themselves up? Ever forget, and feel as they did before?” + +“Lily! you mustn’t speak so—you’re dreaming.” + +“Don’t they always go from bad to worse? There’s no turning +back—your old self rejects you, and shuts you out.” + +She rose, stretching her arms as if in utter physical weariness. +“Go to bed, dear! You work hard and get up early. I’ll watch here +by the fire, and you’ll leave the light, and your door open. All +I want is to feel that you are near me.” She laid both hands on +Gerty’s shoulders, with a smile that was like sunrise on a sea +strewn with wreckage. + +“I can’t leave you, Lily. Come and lie on my bed. Your hands are +frozen—you must undress and be made warm.” Gerty paused with sudden +compunction. “But Mrs. Peniston—it’s past midnight! What will she +think?” + +“She goes to bed. I have a latchkey. It doesn’t matter—I can’t go +back there.” + +“There’s no need to: you shall stay here. But you must tell me +where you have been. Listen, Lily—it will help you to speak!” She +regained Miss Bart’s hands, and pressed them against her. “Try to +tell me—it will clear your poor head. Listen—you were dining at +Carry Fisher’s.” Gerty paused and added with a flash of heroism: +“Lawrence Selden went from here to find you.” + +At the word, Lily’s face melted from locked anguish to the open +misery of a child. Her lips trembled and her gaze widened with +tears. + +“He went to find me? And I missed him! Oh, Gerty, he tried to help +me. He told me—he warned me long ago—he foresaw that I should grow +hateful to myself!” + +The name, as Gerty saw with a clutch at the heart, had loosened +the springs of self-pity in her friend’s dry breast, and tear by +tear Lily poured out the measure of her anguish. She had dropped +sideways in Gerty’s big arm-chair, her head buried where lately +Selden’s had leaned, in a beauty of abandonment that drove home to +Gerty’s aching senses the inevitableness of her own defeat. Ah, +it needed no deliberate purpose on Lily’s part to rob her of her +dream! To look on that prone loveliness was to see in it a natural +force, to recognize that love and power belong to such as Lily, as +renunciation and service are the lot of those they despoil. But if +Selden’s infatuation seemed a fatal necessity, the effect that his +name produced shook Gerty’s steadfastness with a last pang. Men +pass through such superhuman loves and outlive them: they are the +probation subduing the heart to human joys. How gladly Gerty would +have welcomed the ministry of healing: how willingly have soothed +the sufferer back to tolerance of life! But Lily’s self-betrayal +took this last hope from her. The mortal maid on the shore is +helpless against the siren who loves her prey: such victims are +floated back dead from their adventure. + +Lily sprang up and caught her with strong hands. “Gerty, you +know him—you understand him—tell me; if I went to him, if I told +him everything—if I said: ‘I am bad through and through—I want +admiration, I want excitement, I want money—’ yes, MONEY! That’s my +shame, Gerty—and it’s known, it’s said of me—it’s what men think of +me—If I said it all to him—told him the whole story—said plainly: +‘I’ve sunk lower than the lowest, for I’ve taken what they take, +and not paid as they pay’—oh, Gerty, you know him, you can speak +for him: if I told him everything would he loathe me? Or would he +pity me, and understand me, and save me from loathing myself?” + +Gerty stood cold and passive. She knew the hour of her probation +had come, and her poor heart beat wildly against its destiny. As a +dark river sweeps by under a lightning flash, she saw her chance of +happiness surge past under a flash of temptation. What prevented +her from saying: “He is like other men?” She was not so sure of +him, after all! But to do so would have been like blaspheming her +love. She could not put him before herself in any light but the +noblest: she must trust him to the height of her own passion. + +“Yes: I know him; he will help you,” she said; and in a moment +Lily’s passion was weeping itself out against her breast. + +There was but one bed in the little flat, and the two girls lay +down on it side by side when Gerty had unlaced Lily’s dress +and persuaded her to put her lips to the warm tea. The light +extinguished, they lay still in the darkness, Gerty shrinking +to the outer edge of the narrow couch to avoid contact with her +bed-fellow. Knowing that Lily disliked to be caressed, she had long +ago learned to check her demonstrative impulses toward her friend. +But tonight every fibre in her body shrank from Lily’s nearness: +it was torture to listen to her breathing, and feel the sheet stir +with it. As Lily turned, and settled to completer rest, a strand +of her hair swept Gerty’s cheek with its fragrance. Everything +about her was warm and soft and scented: even the stains of her +grief became her as rain-drops do the beaten rose. But as Gerty lay +with arms drawn down her side, in the motionless narrowness of an +effigy, she felt a stir of sobs from the breathing warmth beside +her, and Lily flung out her hand, groped for her friend’s, and held +it fast. + +“Hold me, Gerty, hold me, or I shall think of things,” she moaned; +and Gerty silently slipped an arm under her, pillowing her head in +its hollow as a mother makes a nest for a tossing child. In the +warm hollow Lily lay still and her breathing grew low and regular. +Her hand still clung to Gerty’s as if to ward off evil dreams, but +the hold of her fingers relaxed, her head sank deeper into its +shelter, and Gerty felt that she slept. + + + + +Chapter 15 + + +When Lily woke she had the bed to herself, and the winter light was +in the room. + +She sat up, bewildered by the strangeness of her surroundings; +then memory returned, and she looked about her with a shiver. +In the cold slant of light reflected from the back wall of a +neighbouring building, she saw her evening dress and opera +cloak lying in a tawdry heap on a chair. Finery laid off is as +unappetizing as the remains of a feast, and it occurred to Lily +that, at home, her maid’s vigilance had always spared her the +sight of such incongruities. Her body ached with fatigue, and with +the constriction of her attitude in Gerty’s bed. All through her +troubled sleep she had been conscious of having no space to toss +in, and the long effort to remain motionless made her feel as if +she had spent her night in a train. + +This sense of physical discomfort was the first to assert itself; +then she perceived, beneath it, a corresponding mental prostration, +a languor of horror more insufferable than the first rush of her +disgust. The thought of having to wake every morning with this +weight on her breast roused her tired mind to fresh effort. She +must find some way out of the slough into which she had stumbled: +it was not so much compunction as the dread of her morning thoughts +that pressed on her the need of action. But she was unutterably +tired; it was weariness to think connectedly. She lay back, looking +about the poor slit of a room with a renewal of physical distaste. +The outer air, penned between high buildings, brought no freshness +through the window; steam-heat was beginning to sing in a coil of +dingy pipes, and a smell of cooking penetrated the crack of the +door. + +The door opened, and Gerty, dressed and hatted, entered with a cup +of tea. Her face looked sallow and swollen in the dreary light, and +her dull hair shaded imperceptibly into the tones of her skin. + +She glanced shyly at Lily, asking in an embarrassed tone how she +felt; Lily answered with the same constraint, and raised herself up +to drink the tea. + +“I must have been over-tired last night; I think I had a nervous +attack in the carriage,” she said, as the drink brought clearness +to her sluggish thoughts. + +“You were not well; I am so glad you came here,” Gerty returned. + +“But how am I to get home? And Aunt Julia—?” + +“She knows; I telephoned early, and your maid has brought your +things. But won’t you eat something? I scrambled the eggs myself.” + +Lily could not eat; but the tea strengthened her to rise and dress +under her maid’s searching gaze. It was a relief to her that Gerty +was obliged to hasten away: the two kissed silently, but without a +trace of the previous night’s emotion. + +Lily found Mrs. Peniston in a state of agitation. She had sent for +Grace Stepney and was taking digitalis. Lily breasted the storm of +enquiries as best she could, explaining that she had had an attack +of faintness on her way back from Carry Fisher’s; that, fearing +she would not have strength to reach home, she had gone to Miss +Farish’s instead; but that a quiet night had restored her, and that +she had no need of a doctor. + +This was a relief to Mrs. Peniston, who could give herself up +to her own symptoms, and Lily was advised to go and lie down, +her aunt’s panacea for all physical and moral disorders. In +the solitude of her own room she was brought back to a sharp +contemplation of facts. Her daylight view of them necessarily +differed from the cloudy vision of the night. The winged furies +were now prowling gossips who dropped in on each other for tea. But +her fears seemed the uglier, thus shorn of their vagueness; and +besides, she had to act, not rave. For the first time she forced +herself to reckon up the exact amount of her debt to Trenor; and +the result of this hateful computation was the discovery that she +had, in all, received nine thousand dollars from him. The flimsy +pretext on which it had been given and received shrivelled up +in the blaze of her shame: she knew that not a penny of it was +her own, and that to restore her self-respect she must at once +repay the whole amount. The inability thus to solace her outraged +feelings gave her a paralyzing sense of insignificance. She was +realizing for the first time that a woman’s dignity may cost more +to keep up than her carriage; and that the maintenance of a moral +attribute should be dependent on dollars and cents, made the world +appear a more sordid place than she had conceived it. + +After luncheon, when Grace Stepney’s prying eyes had been +removed, Lily asked for a word with her aunt. The two ladies +went upstairs to the sitting-room, where Mrs. Peniston seated +herself in her black satin arm-chair tufted with yellow buttons, +beside a bead-work table bearing a bronze box with a miniature +of Beatrice Cenci in the lid. Lily felt for these objects the +same distaste which the prisoner may entertain for the fittings +of the court-room. It was here that her aunt received her rare +confidences, and the pink-eyed smirk of the turbaned Beatrice was +associated in her mind with the gradual fading of the smile from +Mrs. Peniston’s lips. That lady’s dread of a scene gave her an +inexorableness which the greatest strength of character could not +have produced, since it was independent of all considerations of +right or wrong; and knowing this, Lily seldom ventured to assail +it. She had never felt less like making the attempt than on the +present occasion; but she had sought in vain for any other means of +escape from an intolerable situation. + +Mrs. Peniston examined her critically. “You’re a bad colour, Lily: +this incessant rushing about is beginning to tell on you,” she said. + +Miss Bart saw an opening. “I don’t think it’s that, Aunt Julia; +I’ve had worries,” she replied. + +“Ah,” said Mrs. Peniston, shutting her lips with the snap of a +purse closing against a beggar. + +“I’m sorry to bother you with them,” Lily continued, “but I really +believe my faintness last night was brought on partly by anxious +thoughts—” + +“I should have said Carry Fisher’s cook was enough to account for +it. She has a woman who was with Maria Melson in 1891—the spring of +the year we went to Aix—and I remember dining there two days before +we sailed, and feeling SURE the coppers hadn’t been scoured.” + +“I don’t think I ate much; I can’t eat or sleep.” Lily paused, and +then said abruptly: “The fact is, Aunt Julia, I owe some money.” + +Mrs. Peniston’s face clouded perceptibly, but did not express the +astonishment her niece had expected. She was silent, and Lily was +forced to continue: “I have been foolish——” + +“No doubt you have: extremely foolish,” Mrs. Peniston interposed. +“I fail to see how any one with your income, and no expenses—not to +mention the handsome presents I’ve always given you——” + +“Oh, you’ve been most generous, Aunt Julia; I shall never forget +your kindness. But perhaps you don’t quite realize the expense a +girl is put to nowadays——” + +“I don’t realize that YOU are put to any expense except for your +clothes and your railway fares. I expect you to be handsomely +dressed; but I paid Celeste’s bill for you last October.” + +Lily hesitated: her aunt’s implacable memory had never been more +inconvenient. “You were as kind as possible; but I have had to get +a few things since——” + +“What kind of things? Clothes? How much have you spent? Let me see +the bill—I daresay the woman is swindling you.” + +“Oh, no, I think not: clothes have grown so frightfully expensive; +and one needs so many different kinds, with country visits, and +golf and skating, and Aiken and Tuxedo——” + +“Let me see the bill,” Mrs. Peniston repeated. + +Lily hesitated again. In the first place, Mme. Celeste had not yet +sent in her account, and secondly, the amount it represented was +only a fraction of the sum that Lily needed. + +“She hasn’t sent in the bill for my winter things, but I KNOW it’s +large; and there are one or two other things; I’ve been careless +and imprudent—I’m frightened to think of what I owe——” + +She raised the troubled loveliness of her face to Mrs. Peniston, +vainly hoping that a sight so moving to the other sex might not be +without effect upon her own. But the effect produced was that of +making Mrs. Peniston shrink back apprehensively. + +“Really, Lily, you are old enough to manage your own affairs, and +after frightening me to death by your performance of last night you +might at least choose a better time to worry me with such matters.” +Mrs. Peniston glanced at the clock, and swallowed a tablet of +digitalis. “If you owe Celeste another thousand, she may send me +her account,” she added, as though to end the discussion at any +cost. + +“I am very sorry, Aunt Julia; I hate to trouble you at such a time; +but I have really no choice—I ought to have spoken sooner—I owe a +great deal more than a thousand dollars.” + +“A great deal more? Do you owe two? She must have robbed you!” + +“I told you it was not only Celeste. I—there are other bills—more +pressing—that must be settled.” + +“What on earth have you been buying? Jewelry? You must have gone +off your head,” said Mrs. Peniston with asperity. “But if you have +run into debt, you must suffer the consequences, and put aside your +monthly income till your bills are paid. If you stay quietly here +until next spring, instead of racing about all over the country, +you will have no expenses at all, and surely in four or five months +you can settle the rest of your bills if I pay the dress-maker now.” + +Lily was again silent. She knew she could not hope to extract +even a thousand dollars from Mrs. Peniston on the mere plea of +paying Celeste’s bill: Mrs. Peniston would expect to go over the +dress-maker’s account, and would make out the cheque to her and not +to Lily. And yet the money must be obtained before the day was over! + +“The debts I speak of are—different—not like tradesmen’s bills,” +she began confusedly; but Mrs. Peniston’s look made her almost +afraid to continue. Could it be that her aunt suspected anything? +The idea precipitated Lily’s avowal. + +“The fact is, I’ve played cards a good deal—bridge; the women all +do it; girls too—it’s expected. Sometimes I’ve won—won a good +deal—but lately I’ve been unlucky—and of course such debts can’t be +paid off gradually——” + +She paused: Mrs. Peniston’s face seemed to be petrifying as she +listened. + +“Cards—you’ve played cards for money? It’s true, then: when I was +told so I wouldn’t believe it. I won’t ask if the other horrors +I was told were true too; I’ve heard enough for the state of my +nerves. When I think of the example you’ve had in this house! But I +suppose it’s your foreign bringing-up—no one knew where your mother +picked up her friends. And her Sundays were a scandal—that I know.” + +Mrs. Peniston wheeled round suddenly. “You play cards on Sunday?” + +Lily flushed with the recollection of certain rainy Sundays at +Bellomont and with the Dorsets. + +“You’re hard on me, Aunt Julia: I have never really cared for +cards, but a girl hates to be thought priggish and superior, and +one drifts into doing what the others do. I’ve had a dreadful +lesson, and if you’ll help me out this time I promise you—” + +Mrs. Peniston raised her hand warningly. “You needn’t make any +promises: it’s unnecessary. When I offered you a home I didn’t +undertake to pay your gambling debts.” + +“Aunt Julia! You don’t mean that you won’t help me?” + +“I shall certainly not do anything to give the impression that I +countenance your behaviour. If you really owe your dress-maker, +I will settle with her—beyond that I recognize no obligation to +assume your debts.” + +Lily had risen, and stood pale and quivering before her aunt. Pride +stormed in her, but humiliation forced the cry from her lips: “Aunt +Julia, I shall be disgraced—I—” But she could go no farther. If her +aunt turned such a stony ear to the fiction of the gambling debts, +in what spirit would she receive the terrible avowal of the truth? + +“I consider that you ARE disgraced, Lily: disgraced by your conduct +far more than by its results. You say your friends have persuaded +you to play cards with them; well, they may as well learn a lesson +too. They can probably afford to lose a little money—and at any +rate, I am not going to waste any of mine in paying them. And now I +must ask you to leave me—this scene has been extremely painful, and +I have my own health to consider. Draw down the blinds, please; and +tell Jennings I will see no one this afternoon but Grace Stepney.” + +Lily went up to her own room and bolted the door. She was trembling +with fear and anger—the rush of the furies’ wings was in her ears. +She walked up and down the room with blind irregular steps. The +last door of escape was closed—she felt herself shut in with her +dishonour. + +Suddenly her wild pacing brought her before the clock on the +chimney-piece. Its hands stood at half-past three, and she +remembered that Selden was to come to her at four. She had meant +to put him off with a word—but now her heart leaped at the +thought of seeing him. Was there not a promise of rescue in his +love? As she had lain at Gerty’s side the night before, she had +thought of his coming, and of the sweetness of weeping out her +pain upon his breast. Of course she had meant to clear herself of +its consequences before she met him—she had never really doubted +that Mrs. Peniston would come to her aid. And she had felt, even +in the full storm of her misery, that Selden’s love could not be +her ultimate refuge; only it would be so sweet to take a moment’s +shelter there, while she gathered fresh strength to go on. + +But now his love was her only hope, and as she sat alone with her +wretchedness the thought of confiding in him became as seductive +as the river’s flow to the suicide. The first plunge would be +terrible—but afterward, what blessedness might come! She remembered +Gerty’s words: “I know him—he will help you”; and her mind clung +to them as a sick person might cling to a healing relic. Oh, if +he really understood—if he would help her to gather up her broken +life, and put it together in some new semblance in which no trace +of the past should remain! He had always made her feel that she +was worthy of better things, and she had never been in greater +need of such solace. Once and again she shrank at the thought of +imperilling his love by her confession: for love was what she +needed—it would take the glow of passion to weld together the +shattered fragments of her self-esteem. But she recurred to Gerty’s +words and held fast to them. She was sure that Gerty knew Selden’s +feeling for her, and it had never dawned upon her blindness that +Gerty’s own judgment of him was coloured by emotions far more +ardent than her own. + +Four o’clock found her in the drawing-room: she was sure that +Selden would be punctual. But the hour came and passed—it moved +on feverishly, measured by her impatient heart-beats. She had +time to take a fresh survey of her wretchedness, and to fluctuate +anew between the impulse to confide in Selden and the dread of +destroying his illusions. But as the minutes passed the need of +throwing herself on his comprehension became more urgent: she could +not bear the weight of her misery alone. There would be a perilous +moment, perhaps: but could she not trust to her beauty to bridge it +over, to land her safe in the shelter of his devotion? + +But the hour sped on and Selden did not come. Doubtless he had been +detained, or had misread her hurriedly scrawled note, taking the +four for a five. The ringing of the door-bell a few minutes after +five confirmed this supposition, and made Lily hastily resolve to +write more legibly in future. The sound of steps in the hall, and +of the butler’s voice preceding them, poured fresh energy into her +veins. She felt herself once more the alert and competent moulder +of emergencies, and the remembrance of her power over Selden +flushed her with sudden confidence. But when the drawing-room door +opened it was Rosedale who came in. + +The reaction caused her a sharp pang, but after a passing +movement of irritation at the clumsiness of fate, and at her +own carelessness in not denying the door to all but Selden, she +controlled herself and greeted Rosedale amicably. It was annoying +that Selden, when he came, should find that particular visitor in +possession, but Lily was mistress of the art of ridding herself +of superfluous company, and to her present mood Rosedale seemed +distinctly negligible. + +His own view of the situation forced itself upon her after a few +moments’ conversation. She had caught at the Brys’ entertainment as +an easy impersonal subject, likely to tide them over the interval +till Selden appeared, but Mr. Rosedale, tenaciously planted beside +the tea-table, his hands in his pockets, his legs a little too +freely extended, at once gave the topic a personal turn. + +“Pretty well done—well, yes, I suppose it was: Welly Bry’s got his +back up and don’t mean to let go till he’s got the hang of the +thing. Of course, there were things here and there—things Mrs. +Fisher couldn’t be expected to see to—the champagne wasn’t cold, +and the coats got mixed in the coat-room. I would have spent more +money on the music. But that’s my character: if I want a thing I’m +willing to pay: I don’t go up to the counter, and then wonder if +the article’s worth the price. I wouldn’t be satisfied to entertain +like the Welly Brys; I’d want something that would look more easy +and natural, more as if I took it in my stride. And it takes just +two things to do that, Miss Bart: money, and the right woman to +spend it.” + +He paused, and examined her attentively while she affected to +rearrange the tea-cups. + +“I’ve got the money,” he continued, clearing his throat, “and what +I want is the woman—and I mean to have her too.” + +He leaned forward a little, resting his hands on the head of his +walking-stick. He had seen men of Ned Van Alstyne’s type bring +their hats and sticks into a drawing-room, and he thought it added +a touch of elegant familiarity to their appearance. + +Lily was silent, smiling faintly, with her eyes absently resting on +his face. She was in reality reflecting that a declaration would +take some time to make, and that Selden must surely appear before +the moment of refusal had been reached. Her brooding look, as of +a mind withdrawn yet not averted, seemed to Mr. Rosedale full of +a subtle encouragement. He would not have liked any evidence of +eagerness. + +“I mean to have her too,” he repeated, with a laugh intended to +strengthen his self-assurance. “I generally HAVE got what I wanted +in life, Miss Bart. I wanted money, and I’ve got more than I know +how to invest; and now the money doesn’t seem to be of any account +unless I can spend it on the right woman. That’s what I want to do +with it: I want my wife to make all the other women feel small. I’d +never grudge a dollar that was spent on that. But it isn’t every +woman can do it, no matter how much you spend on her. There was a +girl in some history book who wanted gold shields, or something, +and the fellows threw ’em at her, and she was crushed under ’em: +they killed her. Well, that’s true enough: some women looked buried +under their jewelry. What I want is a woman who’ll hold her head +higher the more diamonds I put on it. And when I looked at you the +other night at the Brys’, in that plain white dress, looking as if +you had a crown on, I said to myself: ‘By gad, if she had one she’d +wear it as if it grew on her.’” + +Still Lily did not speak, and he continued, warming with his theme: +“Tell you what it is, though, that kind of woman costs more than +all the rest of ’em put together. If a woman’s going to ignore her +pearls, they want to be better than anybody else’s—and so it is +with everything else. You know what I mean—you know it’s only the +showy things that are cheap. Well, I should want my wife to be able +to take the earth for granted if she wanted to. I know there’s one +thing vulgar about money, and that’s the thinking about it; and my +wife would never have to demean herself in that way.” He paused, +and then added, with an unfortunate lapse to an earlier manner: “I +guess you know the lady I’ve got in view, Miss Bart.” + +Lily raised her head, brightening a little under the challenge. +Even through the dark tumult of her thoughts, the clink of Mr. +Rosedale’s millions had a faintly seductive note. Oh, for enough of +them to cancel her one miserable debt! But the man behind them grew +increasingly repugnant in the light of Selden’s expected coming. +The contrast was too grotesque: she could scarcely suppress the +smile it provoked. She decided that directness would be best. + +“If you mean me, Mr. Rosedale, I am very grateful—very much +flattered; but I don’t know what I have ever done to make you +think—” + +“Oh, if you mean you’re not dead in love with me, I’ve got sense +enough left to see that. And I ain’t talking to you as if you +were—I presume I know the kind of talk that’s expected under those +circumstances. I’m confoundedly gone on you—that’s about the size +of it—and I’m just giving you a plain business statement of the +consequences. You’re not very fond of me—YET—but you’re fond of +luxury, and style, and amusement, and of not having to worry about +cash. You like to have a good time, and not have to settle for it; +and what I propose to do is to provide for the good time and do the +settling.” + +He paused, and she returned with a chilling smile: “You are +mistaken in one point, Mr. Rosedale: whatever I enjoy I am prepared +to settle for.” + +She spoke with the intention of making him see that, if his words +implied a tentative allusion to her private affairs, she was +prepared to meet and repudiate it. But if he recognized her meaning +it failed to abash him, and he went on in the same tone: “I didn’t +mean to give offence; excuse me if I’ve spoken too plainly. But +why ain’t you straight with me—why do you put up that kind of +bluff? You know there’ve been times when you were bothered—damned +bothered—and as a girl gets older, and things keep moving along, +why, before she knows it, the things she wants are liable to move +past her and not come back. I don’t say it’s anywhere near that +with you yet; but you’ve had a taste of bothers that a girl like +yourself ought never to have known about, and what I’m offering you +is the chance to turn your back on them once for all.” + +The colour burned in Lily’s face as he ended; there was no +mistaking the point he meant to make, and to permit it to pass +unheeded was a fatal confession of weakness, while to resent it too +openly was to risk offending him at a perilous moment. Indignation +quivered on her lip; but it was quelled by the secret voice which +warned her that she must not quarrel with him. He knew too much +about her, and even at the moment when it was essential that he +should show himself at his best, he did not scruple to let her +see how much he knew. How then would he use his power when her +expression of contempt had dispelled his one motive for restraint? +Her whole future might hinge on her way of answering him: she had +to stop and consider that, in the stress of her other anxieties, as +a breathless fugitive may have to pause at the cross-roads and try +to decide coolly which turn to take. + +“You are quite right, Mr. Rosedale. I HAVE had bothers; and I am +grateful to you for wanting to relieve me of them. It is not always +easy to be quite independent and self-respecting when one is poor +and lives among rich people; I have been careless about money, and +have worried about my bills. But I should be selfish and ungrateful +if I made that a reason for accepting all you offer, with no better +return to make than the desire to be free from my anxieties. You +must give me time—time to think of your kindness—and of what I +could give you in return for it——” + +She held out her hand with a charming gesture in which dismissal +was shorn of its rigour. Its hint of future leniency made Rosedale +rise in obedience to it, a little flushed with his unhoped-for +success, and disciplined by the tradition of his blood to accept +what was conceded, without undue haste to press for more. Something +in his prompt acquiescence frightened her; she felt behind it the +stored force of a patience that might subdue the strongest will. +But at least they had parted amicably, and he was out of the house +without meeting Selden—Selden, whose continued absence now smote +her with a new alarm. Rosedale had remained over an hour, and she +understood that it was now too late to hope for Selden. He would +write explaining his absence, of course; there would be a note +from him by the late post. But her confession would have to be +postponed; and the chill of the delay settled heavily on her fagged +spirit. + +It lay heavier when the postman’s last ring brought no note for +her, and she had to go upstairs to a lonely night—a night as grim +and sleepless as her tortured fancy had pictured it to Gerty. +She had never learned to live with her own thoughts, and to be +confronted with them through such hours of lucid misery made the +confused wretchedness of her previous vigil seem easily bearable. + +Daylight disbanded the phantom crew, and made it clear to her +that she would hear from Selden before noon; but the day passed +without his writing or coming. Lily remained at home, lunching and +dining alone with her aunt, who complained of flutterings of the +heart, and talked icily on general topics. Mrs. Peniston went to +bed early, and when she had gone Lily sat down and wrote a note to +Selden. She was about to ring for a messenger to despatch it when +her eye fell on a paragraph in the evening paper which lay at her +elbow: “Mr. Lawrence Selden was among the passengers sailing this +afternoon for Havana and the West Indies on the Windward Liner +Antilles.” + +She laid down the paper and sat motionless, staring at her note. +She understood now that he was never coming—that he had gone away +because he was afraid that he might come. She rose, and walking +across the floor stood gazing at herself for a long time in the +brightly lit mirror above the mantelpiece. The lines in her face +came out terribly—she looked old; and when a girl looks old to +herself, how does she look to other people? She moved away, and +began to wander aimlessly about the room, fitting her steps with +mechanical precision between the monstrous roses of Mrs. Peniston’s +Axminster. Suddenly she noticed that the pen with which she had +written to Selden still rested against the uncovered inkstand. +She seated herself again, and taking out an envelope, addressed +it rapidly to Rosedale. Then she laid out a sheet of paper, and +sat over it with suspended pen. It had been easy enough to write +the date, and “Dear Mr. Rosedale”—but after that her inspiration +flagged. She meant to tell him to come to her, but the words +refused to shape themselves. At length she began: “I have been +thinking——” then she laid the pen down, and sat with her elbows on +the table and her face hidden in her hands. + +Suddenly she started up at the sound of the door-bell. It was +not late—barely ten o’clock—and there might still be a note from +Selden, or a message—or he might be there himself, on the other +side of the door! The announcement of his sailing might have been +a mistake—it might be another Lawrence Selden who had gone to +Havana—all these possibilities had time to flash through her mind, +and build up the conviction that she was after all to see or hear +from him, before the drawing-room door opened to admit a servant +carrying a telegram. + +Lily tore it open with shaking hands, and read Bertha Dorset’s name +below the message: “Sailing unexpectedly tomorrow. Will you join us +on a cruise in Mediterranean?” + + + + +BOOK TWO + + + + +Chapter 1 + + +It came vividly to Selden on the Casino steps that Monte Carlo +had, more than any other place he knew, the gift of accommodating +itself to each man’s humour. His own, at the moment, lent it a +festive readiness of welcome that might well, in a disenchanted +eye, have turned to paint and facility. So frank an appeal for +participation—so outspoken a recognition of the holiday vein in +human nature—struck refreshingly on a mind jaded by prolonged +hard work in surroundings made for the discipline of the senses. +As he surveyed the white square set in an exotic coquetry of +architecture, the studied tropicality of the gardens, the groups +loitering in the foreground against mauve mountains which +suggested a sublime stage-setting forgotten in a hurried shifting +of scenes—as he took in the whole outspread effect of light and +leisure, he felt a movement of revulsion from the last few months +of his life. + +The New York winter had presented an interminable perspective of +snow-burdened days, reaching toward a spring of raw sunshine and +furious air, when the ugliness of things rasped the eye as the +gritty wind ground into the skin. Selden, immersed in his work, +had told himself that external conditions did not matter to a man +in his state, and that cold and ugliness were a good tonic for +relaxed sensibilities. When an urgent case summoned him abroad +to confer with a client in Paris, he broke reluctantly with the +routine of the office; and it was only now that, having despatched +his business, and slipped away for a week in the south, he began to +feel the renewed zest of spectatorship that is the solace of those +who take an objective interest in life. + +The multiplicity of its appeals—the perpetual surprise of its +contrasts and resemblances! All these tricks and turns of the +show were upon him with a spring as he descended the Casino steps +and paused on the pavement at its doors. He had not been abroad +for seven years—and what changes the renewed contact produced! If +the central depths were untouched, hardly a pin-point of surface +remained the same. And this was the very place to bring out the +completeness of the renewal. The sublimities, the perpetuities, +might have left him as he was: but this tent pitched for a day’s +revelry spread a roof of oblivion between himself and his fixed sky. + +It was mid-April, and one felt that the revelry had reached its +climax and that the desultory groups in the square and gardens +would soon dissolve and reform in other scenes. Meanwhile the last +moments of the performance seemed to gain an added brightness +from the hovering threat of the curtain. The quality of the air, +the exuberance of the flowers, the blue intensity of sea and sky, +produced the effect of a closing TABLEAU, when all the lights are +turned on at once. This impression was presently heightened by the +way in which a consciously conspicuous group of people advanced +to the middle front, and stood before Selden with the air of the +chief performers gathered together by the exigencies of the final +effect. Their appearance confirmed the impression that the show had +been staged regardless of expense, and emphasized its resemblance +to one of those “costume-plays” in which the protagonists walk +through the passions without displacing a drapery. The ladies stood +in unrelated attitudes calculated to isolate their effects, and the +men hung about them as irrelevantly as stage heroes whose tailors +are named in the programme. It was Selden himself who unwittingly +fused the group by arresting the attention of one of its members. + +“Why, Mr. Selden!” Mrs. Fisher exclaimed in surprise; and with a +gesture toward Mrs. Jack Stepney and Mrs. Wellington Bry, she added +plaintively: “We’re starving to death because we can’t decide where +to lunch.” + +Welcomed into their group, and made the confidant of their +difficulty, Selden learned with amusement that there were several +places where one might miss something by not lunching, or forfeit +something by lunching; so that eating actually became a minor +consideration on the very spot consecrated to its rites. + +“Of course one gets the best things at the TERRASSE—but that looks +as if one hadn’t any other reason for being there: the Americans +who don’t know any one always rush for the best food. And the +Duchess of Beltshire has taken up Becassin’s lately,” Mrs. Bry +earnestly summed up. + +Mrs. Bry, to Mrs. Fisher’s despair, had not progressed beyond the +point of weighing her social alternatives in public. She could not +acquire the air of doing things because she wanted to, and making +her choice the final seal of their fitness. + +Mr. Bry, a short pale man, with a business face and leisure +clothes, met the dilemma hilariously. + +“I guess the Duchess goes where it’s cheapest, unless she can get +her meal paid for. If you offered to blow her off at the TERRASSE +she’d turn up fast enough.” + +But Mrs. Jack Stepney interposed. “The Grand Dukes go to that +little place at the Condamine. Lord Hubert says it’s the only +restaurant in Europe where they can cook peas.” + +Lord Hubert Dacey, a slender shabby-looking man, with a charming +worn smile, and the air of having spent his best years in piloting +the wealthy to the right restaurant, assented with gentle emphasis: +“It’s quite that.” + +“PEAS?” said Mr. Bry contemptuously. “Can they cook terrapin? It +just shows,” he continued, “what these European markets are, when a +fellow can make a reputation cooking peas!” + +Jack Stepney intervened with authority. “I don’t know that I quite +agree with Dacey: there’s a little hole in Paris, off the Quai +Voltaire—but in any case, I can’t advise the Condamine GARGOTE; at +least not with ladies.” + +Stepney, since his marriage, had thickened and grown prudish, as +the Van Osburgh husbands were apt to do; but his wife, to his +surprise and discomfiture, had developed an earth-shaking fastness +of gait which left him trailing breathlessly in her wake. + +“That’s where we’ll go then!” she declared, with a heavy toss of +her plumage. “I’m so tired of the TERRASSE: it’s as dull as one +of mother’s dinners. And Lord Hubert has promised to tell us who +all the awful people are at the other place—hasn’t he, Carry? Now, +Jack, don’t look so solemn!” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Bry, “all I want to know is who their +dress-makers are.” + +“No doubt Dacey can tell you that too,” remarked Stepney, with an +ironic intention which the other received with the light murmur, +“I can at least FIND OUT, my dear fellow”; and Mrs. Bry having +declared that she couldn’t walk another step, the party hailed +two or three of the light phaetons which hover attentively on the +confines of the gardens, and rattled off in procession toward the +Condamine. + +Their destination was one of the little restaurants overhanging +the boulevard which dips steeply down from Monte Carlo to the low +intermediate quarter along the quay. From the window in which +they presently found themselves installed, they overlooked the +intense blue curve of the harbour, set between the verdure of twin +promontories: to the right, the cliff of Monaco, topped by the +mediaeval silhouette of its church and castle, to the left the +terraces and pinnacles of the gambling-house. Between the two, +the waters of the bay were furrowed by a light coming and going +of pleasure-craft, through which, just at the culminating moment +of luncheon, the majestic advance of a great steam-yacht drew the +company’s attention from the peas. + +“By Jove, I believe that’s the Dorsets back!” Stepney exclaimed; +and Lord Hubert, dropping his single eye-glass, corroborated: “It’s +the Sabrina—yes.” + +“So soon? They were to spend a month in Sicily,” Mrs. Fisher +observed. + +“I guess they feel as if they had: there’s only one up-to-date +hotel in the whole place,” said Mr. Bry disparagingly. + +“It was Ned Silverton’s idea—but poor Dorset and Lily Bart must +have been horribly bored.” Mrs. Fisher added in an undertone to +Selden: “I do hope there hasn’t been a row.” + +“It’s most awfully jolly having Miss Bart back,” said Lord Hubert, +in his mild deliberate voice; and Mrs. Bry added ingenuously: “I +daresay the Duchess will dine with us, now that Lily’s here.” + +“The Duchess admires her immensely: I’m sure she’d be charmed +to have it arranged,” Lord Hubert agreed, with the professional +promptness of the man accustomed to draw his profit from +facilitating social contacts: Selden was struck by the businesslike +change in his manner. + +“Lily has been a tremendous success here,” Mrs. Fisher continued, +still addressing herself confidentially to Selden. “She looks ten +years younger—I never saw her so handsome. Lady Skiddaw took her +everywhere in Cannes, and the Crown Princess of Macedonia had her +to stop for a week at Cimiez. People say that was one reason why +Bertha whisked the yacht off to Sicily: the Crown Princess didn’t +take much notice of her, and she couldn’t bear to look on at Lily’s +triumph.” + +Selden made no reply. He was vaguely aware that Miss Bart was +cruising in the Mediterranean with the Dorsets, but it had not +occurred to him that there was any chance of running across her on +the Riviera, where the season was virtually at an end. As he leaned +back, silently contemplating his filigree cup of Turkish coffee, +he was trying to put some order in his thoughts, to tell himself +how the news of her nearness was really affecting him. He had a +personal detachment enabling him, even in moments of emotional +high-pressure, to get a fairly clear view of his feelings, and +he was sincerely surprised by the disturbance which the sight +of the Sabrina had produced in him. He had reason to think that +his three months of engrossing professional work, following on +the sharp shock of his disillusionment, had cleared his mind of +its sentimental vapours. The feeling he had nourished and given +prominence to was one of thankfulness for his escape: he was like a +traveller so grateful for rescue from a dangerous accident that at +first he is hardly conscious of his bruises. Now he suddenly felt +the latent ache, and realized that after all he had not come off +unhurt. + +An hour later, at Mrs. Fisher’s side in the Casino gardens, he was +trying to find fresh reasons for forgetting the injury received in +the contemplation of the peril avoided. The party had dispersed +with the loitering indecision characteristic of social movements +at Monte Carlo, where the whole place, and the long gilded hours +of the day, seem to offer an infinity of ways of being idle. Lord +Hubert Dacey had finally gone off in quest of the Duchess of +Beltshire, charged by Mrs. Bry with the delicate negotiation of +securing that lady’s presence at dinner, the Stepneys had left for +Nice in their motor-car, and Mr. Bry had departed to take his place +in the pigeon shooting match which was at the moment engaging his +highest faculties. + +Mrs. Bry, who had a tendency to grow red and stertorous after +luncheon, had been judiciously prevailed upon by Carry Fisher to +withdraw to her hotel for an hour’s repose; and Selden and his +companion were thus left to a stroll propitious to confidences. +The stroll soon resolved itself into a tranquil session on a bench +overhung with laurel and Banksian roses, from which they caught a +dazzle of blue sea between marble balusters, and the fiery shafts +of cactus-blossoms shooting meteor-like from the rock. The soft +shade of their niche, and the adjacent glitter of the air, were +conducive to an easy lounging mood, and to the smoking of many +cigarettes; and Selden, yielding to these influences, suffered Mrs. +Fisher to unfold to him the history of her recent experiences. She +had come abroad with the Welly Brys at the moment when fashion +flees the inclemency of the New York spring. The Brys, intoxicated +by their first success, already thirsted for new kingdoms, and +Mrs. Fisher, viewing the Riviera as an easy introduction to London +society, had guided their course thither. She had affiliations +of her own in every capital, and a facility for picking them up +again after long absences; and the carefully disseminated rumour +of the Brys’ wealth had at once gathered about them a group of +cosmopolitan pleasure-seekers. + +“But things are not going as well as I expected,” Mrs. Fisher +frankly admitted. “It’s all very well to say that every body with +money can get into society; but it would be truer to say that +NEARLY everybody can. And the London market is so glutted with new +Americans that, to succeed there now, they must be either very +clever or awfully queer. The Brys are neither. HE would get on well +enough if she’d let him alone; they like his slang and his brag and +his blunders. But Louisa spoils it all by trying to repress him and +put herself forward. If she’d be natural herself—fat and vulgar and +bouncing—it would be all right; but as soon as she meets anybody +smart she tries to be slender and queenly. She tried it with the +Duchess of Beltshire and Lady Skiddaw, and they fled. I’ve done my +best to make her see her mistake—I’ve said to her again and again: +‘Just let yourself go, Louisa’; but she keeps up the humbug even +with me—I believe she keeps on being queenly in her own room, with +the door shut. + +“The worst of it is,” Mrs. Fisher went on, “that she thinks it’s +all MY fault. When the Dorsets turned up here six weeks ago, and +everybody began to make a fuss about Lily Bart, I could see Louisa +thought that if she’d had Lily in tow instead of me she would have +been hob-nobbing with all the royalties by this time. She doesn’t +realize that it’s Lily’s beauty that does it: Lord Hubert tells me +Lily is thought even handsomer than when he knew her at Aix ten +years ago. It seems she was tremendously admired there. An Italian +Prince, rich and the real thing, wanted to marry her; but just at +the critical moment a good-looking step-son turned up, and Lily +was silly enough to flirt with him while her marriage-settlements +with the step-father were being drawn up. Some people said the +young man did it on purpose. You can fancy the scandal: there was +an awful row between the men, and people began to look at Lily +so queerly that Mrs. Peniston had to pack up and finish her cure +elsewhere. Not that SHE ever understood: to this day she thinks +that Aix didn’t suit her, and mentions her having been sent there +as proof of the incompetence of French doctors. That’s Lily all +over, you know: she works like a slave preparing the ground and +sowing her seed; but the day she ought to be reaping the harvest +she over-sleeps herself or goes off on a picnic.” + +Mrs. Fisher paused and looked reflectively at the deep shimmer of +sea between the cactus-flowers. “Sometimes,” she added, “I think +it’s just flightiness—and sometimes I think it’s because, at heart, +she despises the things she’s trying for. And it’s the difficulty +of deciding that makes her such an interesting study.” She glanced +tentatively at Selden’s motionless profile, and resumed with a +slight sigh: “Well, all I can say is, I wish she’d give ME some of +her discarded opportunities. I wish we could change places now, +for instance. She could make a very good thing out of the Brys +if she managed them properly, and I should know just how to look +after George Dorset while Bertha is reading Verlaine with Neddy +Silverton.” + +She met Selden’s sound of protest with a sharp derisive glance. +“Well, what’s the use of mincing matters? We all know that’s what +Bertha brought her abroad for. When Bertha wants to have a good +time she has to provide occupation for George. At first I thought +Lily was going to play her cards well THIS time, but there are +rumours that Bertha is jealous of her success here and at Cannes, +and I shouldn’t be surprised if there were a break any day. Lily’s +only safeguard is that Bertha needs her badly—oh, very badly. +The Silverton affair is in the acute stage: it’s necessary that +George’s attention should be pretty continuously distracted. And +I’m bound to say Lily DOES distract it: I believe he’d marry her +tomorrow if he found out there was anything wrong with Bertha. But +you know him—he’s as blind as he’s jealous; and of course Lily’s +present business is to keep him blind. A clever woman might know +just the right moment to tear off the bandage: but Lily isn’t +clever in that way, and when George does open his eyes she’ll +probably contrive not to be in his line of vision.” + +Selden tossed away his cigarette. “By Jove—it’s time for my train,” +he exclaimed, with a glance at his watch; adding, in reply to Mrs. +Fisher’s surprised comment—“Why, I thought of course you were at +Monte!”—a murmured word to the effect that he was making Nice his +head-quarters. + +“The worst of it is, she snubs the Brys now,” he heard irrelevantly +flung after him. + +Ten minutes later, in the high-perched bedroom of an hotel +overlooking the Casino, he was tossing his effects into a couple of +gaping portmanteaux, while the porter waited outside to transport +them to the cab at the door. It took but a brief plunge down the +steep white road to the station to land him safely in the afternoon +express for Nice; and not till he was installed in the corner of +an empty carriage, did he exclaim to himself, with a reaction of +self-contempt: “What the deuce am I running away from?” + +The pertinence of the question checked Selden’s fugitive impulse +before the train had started. It was ridiculous to be flying like +an emotional coward from an infatuation his reason had conquered. +He had instructed his bankers to forward some important business +letters to Nice, and at Nice he would quietly await them. He was +already annoyed with himself for having left Monte Carlo, where he +had intended to pass the week which remained to him before sailing; +but it would now be difficult to return on his steps without an +appearance of inconsistency from which his pride recoiled. In his +inmost heart he was not sorry to put himself beyond the probability +of meeting Miss Bart. Completely as he had detached himself from +her, he could not yet regard her merely as a social instance; +and viewed in a more personal ways she was not likely to be a +reassuring object of study. Chance encounters, or even the repeated +mention of her name, would send his thoughts back into grooves +from which he had resolutely detached them; whereas, if she could +be entirely excluded from his life, the pressure of new and varied +impressions, with which no thought of her was connected, would soon +complete the work of separation. Mrs. Fisher’s conversation had, +indeed, operated to that end; but the treatment was too painful +to be voluntarily chosen while milder remedies were untried; and +Selden thought he could trust himself to return gradually to a +reasonable view of Miss Bart, if only he did not see her. + +Having reached the station early, he had arrived at this point in +his reflections before the increasing throng on the platform warned +him that he could not hope to preserve his privacy; the next moment +there was a hand on the door, and he turned to confront the very +face he was fleeing. + +Miss Bart, glowing with the haste of a precipitate descent upon the +train, headed a group composed of the Dorsets, young Silverton and +Lord Hubert Dacey, who had barely time to spring into the carriage, +and envelop Selden in ejaculations of surprise and welcome, before +the whistle of departure sounded. The party, it appeared, were +hastening to Nice in response to a sudden summons to dine with the +Duchess of Beltshire and to see the water-fete in the bay; a plan +evidently improvised—in spite of Lord Hubert’s protesting “Oh, I +say, you know,”—for the express purpose of defeating Mrs. Bry’s +endeavour to capture the Duchess. + +During the laughing relation of this manoeuvre, Selden had time for +a rapid impression of Miss Bart, who had seated herself opposite +to him in the golden afternoon light. Scarcely three months had +elapsed since he had parted from her on the threshold of the Brys’ +conservatory; but a subtle change had passed over the quality +of her beauty. Then it had had a transparency through which the +fluctuations of the spirit were sometimes tragically visible; now +its impenetrable surface suggested a process of crystallization +which had fused her whole being into one hard brilliant substance. +The change had struck Mrs. Fisher as a rejuvenation: to Selden it +seemed like that moment of pause and arrest when the warm fluidity +of youth is chilled into its final shape. + +He felt it in the way she smiled on him, and in the readiness and +competence with which, flung unexpectedly into his presence, she +took up the thread of their intercourse as though that thread had +not been snapped with a violence from which he still reeled. Such +facility sickened him—but he told himself that it was with the +pang which precedes recovery. Now he would really get well—would +eject the last drop of poison from his blood. Already he felt +himself calmer in her presence than he had learned to be in the +thought of her. Her assumptions and elisions, her short-cuts and +long DETOURS, the skill with which she contrived to meet him at a +point from which no inconvenient glimpses of the past were visible, +suggested what opportunities she had had for practising such arts +since their last meeting. He felt that she had at last arrived at +an understanding with herself: had made a pact with her rebellious +impulses, and achieved a uniform system of self-government, under +which all vagrant tendencies were either held captive or forced +into the service of the state. + +And he saw other things too in her manner: saw how it had adjusted +itself to the hidden intricacies of a situation in which, even +after Mrs. Fisher’s elucidating flashes, he still felt himself +agrope. Surely Mrs. Fisher could no longer charge Miss Bart with +neglecting her opportunities! To Selden’s exasperated observation +she was only too completely alive to them. She was “perfect” +to every one: subservient to Bertha’s anxious predominance, +good-naturedly watchful of Dorset’s moods, brightly companionable +to Silverton and Dacey, the latter of whom met her on an evident +footing of old admiration, while young Silverton, portentously +self-absorbed, seemed conscious of her only as of something vaguely +obstructive. And suddenly, as Selden noted the fine shades of +manner by which she harmonized herself with her surroundings, it +flashed on him that, to need such adroit handling, the situation +must indeed be desperate. She was on the edge of something—that was +the impression left with him. He seemed to see her poised on the +brink of a chasm, with one graceful foot advanced to assert her +unconsciousness that the ground was failing her. + +On the Promenade des Anglais, where Ned Silverton hung on him for +the half hour before dinner, he received a deeper impression of the +general insecurity. Silverton was in a mood of Titanic pessimism. +How any one could come to such a damned hole as the Riviera—any +one with a grain of imagination—with the whole Mediterranean to +choose from: but then, if one’s estimate of a place depended on +the way they broiled a spring chicken! Gad! what a study might be +made of the tyranny of the stomach—the way a sluggish liver or +insufficient gastric juices might affect the whole course of the +universe, overshadow everything in reach—chronic dyspepsia ought +to be among the “statutory causes”; a woman’s life might be ruined +by a man’s inability to digest fresh bread. Grotesque? Yes—and +tragic—like most absurdities. There’s nothing grimmer than the +tragedy that wears a comic mask.... Where was he? Oh—the reason +they chucked Sicily and rushed back? Well—partly, no doubt, Miss +Bart’s desire to get back to bridge and smartness. Dead as a stone +to art and poetry—the light never WAS on sea or land for her! And +of course she persuaded Dorset that the Italian food was bad for +him. Oh, she could make him believe anything—ANYTHING! Mrs. Dorset +was aware of it—oh, perfectly: nothing SHE didn’t see! But she +could hold her tongue—she’d had to, often enough. Miss Bart was an +intimate friend—she wouldn’t hear a word against her. Only it hurts +a woman’s pride—there are some things one doesn’t get used to.... +All this in confidence, of course? Ah—and there were the ladies +signalling from the balcony of the hotel.... He plunged across the +Promenade, leaving Selden to a meditative cigar. + +The conclusions it led him to were fortified, later in the evening, +by some of those faint corroborative hints that generate a light +of their own in the dusk of a doubting mind. Selden, stumbling on +a chance acquaintance, had dined with him, and adjourned, still +in his company, to the brightly lit Promenade, where a line of +crowded stands commanded the glittering darkness of the waters. +The night was soft and persuasive. Overhead hung a summer sky +furrowed with the rush of rockets; and from the east a late moon, +pushing up beyond the lofty bend of the coast, sent across the bay +a shaft of brightness which paled to ashes in the red glitter of +the illuminated boats. Down the lantern-hung Promenade, snatches +of band-music floated above the hum of the crowd and the soft +tossing of boughs in dusky gardens; and between these gardens and +the backs of the stands there flowed a stream of people in whom the +vociferous carnival mood seemed tempered by the growing languor of +the season. + +Selden and his companion, unable to get seats on one of the stands +facing the bay, had wandered for a while with the throng, and +then found a point of vantage on a high garden-parapet above the +Promenade. Thence they caught but a triangular glimpse of the +water, and of the flashing play of boats across its surface; but +the crowd in the street was under their immediate view, and seemed +to Selden, on the whole, of more interest than the show itself. +After a while, however, he wearied of his perch and, dropping +alone to the pavement, pushed his way to the first corner and +turned into the moonlit silence of a side street. Long garden-walls +overhung by trees made a dark boundary to the pavement; an empty +cab trailed along the deserted thoroughfare, and presently Selden +saw two persons emerge from the opposite shadows, signal to the +cab, and drive off in it toward the centre of the town. The +moonlight touched them as they paused to enter the carriage, and he +recognized Mrs. Dorset and young Silverton. + +Beneath the nearest lamp-post he glanced at his watch and saw +that the time was close on eleven. He took another cross street, +and without breasting the throng on the Promenade, made his way +to the fashionable club which overlooks that thoroughfare. Here, +amid the blaze of crowded baccarat tables, he caught sight of Lord +Hubert Dacey, seated with his habitual worn smile behind a rapidly +dwindling heap of gold. The heap being in due course wiped out, +Lord Hubert rose with a shrug, and joining Selden, adjourned with +him to the deserted terrace of the club. It was now past midnight, +and the throng on the stands was dispersing, while the long trails +of red-lit boats scattered and faded beneath a sky repossessed by +the tranquil splendour of the moon. + +Lord Hubert looked at his watch. “By Jove, I promised to join the +Duchess for supper at the LONDON HOUSE; but it’s past twelve, and +I suppose they’ve all scattered. The fact is, I lost them in the +crowd soon after dinner, and took refuge here, for my sins. They +had seats on one of the stands, but of course they couldn’t stop +quiet: the Duchess never can. She and Miss Bart went off in quest +of what they call adventures—gad, it ain’t their fault if they +don’t have some queer ones!” He added tentatively, after pausing +to grope for a cigarette: “Miss Bart’s an old friend of yours, +I believe? So she told me.—Ah, thanks—I don’t seem to have one +left.” He lit Selden’s proffered cigarette, and continued, in his +high-pitched drawling tone: “None of my business, of course, but I +didn’t introduce her to the Duchess. Charming woman, the Duchess, +you understand; and a very good friend of mine; but RATHER a +liberal education.” + +Selden received this in silence, and after a few puffs Lord Hubert +broke out again: “Sort of thing one can’t communicate to the young +lady—though young ladies nowadays are so competent to judge for +themselves; but in this case—I’m an old friend too, you know . . . +and there seemed no one else to speak to. The whole situation’s a +little mixed, as I see it—but there used to be an aunt somewhere, a +diffuse and innocent person, who was great at bridging over chasms +she didn’t see.... Ah, in New York, is she? Pity New York’s such a +long way off!” + + + + +Chapter 2 + + +Miss Bart, emerging late the next morning from her cabin, found +herself alone on the deck of the Sabrina. + +The cushioned chairs, disposed expectantly under the wide awning, +showed no signs of recent occupancy, and she presently learned +from a steward that Mrs. Dorset had not yet appeared, and that +the gentlemen—separately—had gone ashore as soon as they had +breakfasted. Supplied with these facts, Lily leaned awhile over the +side, giving herself up to a leisurely enjoyment of the spectacle +before her. Unclouded sunlight enveloped sea and shore in a bath +of purest radiancy. The purpling waters drew a sharp white line of +foam at the base of the shore; against its irregular eminences, +hotels and villas flashed from the greyish verdure of olive and +eucalyptus; and the background of bare and finely-pencilled +mountains quivered in a pale intensity of light. + +How beautiful it was—and how she loved beauty! She had always +felt that her sensibility in this direction made up for certain +obtusenesses of feeling of which she was less proud; and during the +last three months she had indulged it passionately. The Dorsets’ +invitation to go abroad with them had come as an almost miraculous +release from crushing difficulties; and her faculty for renewing +herself in new scenes, and casting off problems of conduct as +easily as the surroundings in which they had arisen, made the mere +change from one place to another seem, not merely a postponement, +but a solution of her troubles. Moral complications existed for her +only in the environment that had produced them; she did not mean +to slight or ignore them, but they lost their reality when they +changed their background. She could not have remained in New York +without repaying the money she owed to Trenor; to acquit herself +of that odious debt she might even have faced a marriage with +Rosedale; but the accident of placing the Atlantic between herself +and her obligations made them dwindle out of sight as if they had +been milestones and she had travelled past them. + +Her two months on the Sabrina had been especially calculated to +aid this illusion of distance. She had been plunged into new +scenes, and had found in them a renewal of old hopes and ambitions. +The cruise itself charmed her as a romantic adventure. She was +vaguely touched by the names and scenes amid which she moved, and +had listened to Ned Silverton reading Theocritus by moonlight, +as the yacht rounded the Sicilian promontories, with a thrill +of the nerves that confirmed her belief in her intellectual +superiority. But the weeks at Cannes and Nice had really given +her more pleasure. The gratification of being welcomed in high +company, and of making her own ascendency felt there, so that she +found herself figuring once more as the “beautiful Miss Bart” in +the interesting journal devoted to recording the least movements +of her cosmopolitan companions—all these experiences tended to +throw into the extreme background of memory the prosaic and sordid +difficulties from which she had escaped. + +If she was faintly aware of fresh difficulties ahead, she was +sure of her ability to meet them: it was characteristic of her to +feel that the only problems she could not solve were those with +which she was familiar. Meanwhile she could honestly be proud of +the skill with which she had adapted herself to somewhat delicate +conditions. She had reason to think that she had made herself +equally necessary to her host and hostess; and if only she had seen +any perfectly irreproachable means of drawing a financial profit +from the situation, there would have been no cloud on her horizon. +The truth was that her funds, as usual, were inconveniently low; +and to neither Dorset nor his wife could this vulgar embarrassment +be safely hinted. Still, the need was not a pressing one; she could +worry along, as she had so often done before, with the hope of some +happy change of fortune to sustain her; and meanwhile life was +gay and beautiful and easy, and she was conscious of figuring not +unworthily in such a setting. + +She was engaged to breakfast that morning with the Duchess of +Beltshire, and at twelve o’clock she asked to be set ashore in the +gig. Before this she had sent her maid to enquire if she might see +Mrs. Dorset; but the reply came back that the latter was tired, +and trying to sleep. Lily thought she understood the reason of +the rebuff. Her hostess had not been included in the Duchess’s +invitation, though she herself had made the most loyal efforts in +that direction. But her grace was impervious to hints, and invited +or omitted as she chose. It was not Lily’s fault if Mrs. Dorset’s +complicated attitudes did not fall in with the Duchess’s easy gait. +The Duchess, who seldom explained herself, had not formulated her +objection beyond saying: “She’s rather a bore, you know. The only +one of your friends I like is that little Mr. Bry—HE’S funny—” but +Lily knew enough not to press the point, and was not altogether +sorry to be thus distinguished at her friend’s expense. Bertha +certainly HAD grown tiresome since she had taken to poetry and Ned +Silverton. + +On the whole, it was a relief to break away now and then from +the Sabrina; and the Duchess’s little breakfast, organized by +Lord Hubert with all his usual virtuosity, was the pleasanter +to Lily for not including her travelling-companions. Dorset, of +late, had grown more than usually morose and incalculable, and +Ned Silverton went about with an air that seemed to challenge the +universe. The freedom and lightness of the ducal intercourse made +an agreeable change from these complications, and Lily was tempted, +after luncheon, to adjourn in the wake of her companions to the +hectic atmosphere of the Casino. She did not mean to play; her +diminished pocket-money offered small scope for the adventure; but +it amused her to sit on a divan, under the doubtful protection of +the Duchess’s back, while the latter hung above her stakes at a +neighbouring table. + +The rooms were packed with the gazing throng which, in the +afternoon hours, trickles heavily between the tables, like the +Sunday crowd in a lion-house. In the stagnant flow of the mass, +identities were hardly distinguishable; but Lily presently saw +Mrs. Bry cleaving her determined way through the doors, and, in +the broad wake she left, the light figure of Mrs. Fisher bobbing +after her like a row-boat at the stern of a tug. Mrs. Bry pressed +on, evidently animated by the resolve to reach a certain point in +the rooms; but Mrs. Fisher, as she passed Lily, broke from her +towing-line, and let herself float to the girl’s side. + +“Lose her?” she echoed the latter’s query, with an indifferent +glance at Mrs. Bry’s retreating back. “I daresay—it doesn’t matter: +I HAVE lost her already.” And, as Lily exclaimed, she added: “We +had an awful row this morning. You know, of course, that the +Duchess chucked her at dinner last night, and she thinks it was my +fault—my want of management. The worst of it is, the message—just a +mere word by telephone—came so late that the dinner HAD to be paid +for; and Becassin HAD run it up—it had been so drummed into him +that the Duchess was coming!” Mrs. Fisher indulged in a faint laugh +at the remembrance. “Paying for what she doesn’t get rankles so +dreadfully with Louisa: I can’t make her see that it’s one of the +preliminary steps to getting what you haven’t paid for—and as I was +the nearest thing to smash, she smashed me to atoms, poor dear!” + +Lily murmured her commiseration. Impulses of sympathy came +naturally to her, and it was instinctive to proffer her help to +Mrs. Fisher. + +“If there’s anything I can do—if it’s only a question of meeting +the Duchess! I heard her say she thought Mr. Bry amusing——” + +But Mrs. Fisher interposed with a decisive gesture. “My dear, +I have my pride: the pride of my trade. I couldn’t manage the +Duchess, and I can’t palm off your arts on Louisa Bry as mine. I’ve +taken the final step: I go to Paris tonight with the Sam Gormers. +THEY’RE still in the elementary stage; an Italian Prince is a great +deal more than a Prince to them, and they’re always on the brink +of taking a courier for one. To save them from that is my present +mission.” She laughed again at the picture. “But before I go I want +to make my last will and testament—I want to leave you the Brys.” + +“Me?” Miss Bart joined in her amusement. “It’s charming of you to +remember me, dear; but really——” + +“You’re already so well provided for?” Mrs. Fisher flashed a sharp +glance at her. “ARE you, though, Lily—to the point of rejecting my +offer?” + +Miss Bart coloured slowly. “What I really meant was, that the Brys +wouldn’t in the least care to be so disposed of.” + +Mrs. Fisher continued to probe her embarrassment with an +unflinching eye. “What you really meant was that you’ve snubbed the +Brys horribly; and you know that they know——” + +“Carry!” + +“Oh, on certain sides Louisa bristles with perceptions. If you’d +even managed to have them asked once on the Sabrina—especially when +royalties were coming! But it’s not too late,” she ended earnestly, +“it’s not too late for either of you.” + +Lily smiled. “Stay over, and I’ll get the Duchess to dine with +them.” + +“I shan’t stay over—the Gormers have paid for my SALON-LIT,” said +Mrs. Fisher with simplicity. “But get the Duchess to dine with them +all the same.” + +Lily’s smile again flowed into a slight laugh: her friend’s +importunity was beginning to strike her as irrelevant. “I’m sorry I +have been negligent about the Brys——” she began. + +“Oh, as to the Brys—it’s you I’m thinking of,” said Mrs. Fisher +abruptly. She paused, and then, bending forward, with a lowered +voice: “You know we all went on to Nice last night when the Duchess +chucked us. It was Louisa’s idea—I told her what I thought of it.” + +Miss Bart assented. “Yes—I caught sight of you on the way back, at +the station.” + +“Well, the man who was in the carriage with you and George +Dorset—that horrid little Dabham who does ‘Society Notes from +the Riviera’—had been dining with us at Nice. And he’s telling +everybody that you and Dorset came back alone after midnight.” + +“Alone—? When he was with us?” Lily laughed, but her laugh faded +into gravity under the prolonged implication of Mrs. Fisher’s look. +“We DID come back alone—if that’s so very dreadful! But whose fault +was it? The Duchess was spending the night at Cimiez with the Crown +Princess; Bertha got bored with the show, and went off early, +promising to meet us at the station. We turned up on time, but she +didn’t—she didn’t turn up at all!” + +Miss Bart made this announcement in the tone of one who presents, +with careless assurance, a complete vindication; but Mrs. Fisher +received it in a manner almost inconsequent. She seemed to have +lost sight of her friend’s part in the incident: her inward vision +had taken another slant. + +“Bertha never turned up at all? Then how on earth did she get back?” + +“Oh, by the next train, I suppose; there were two extra ones for +the FETE. At any rate, I know she’s safe on the yacht, though I +haven’t yet seen her; but you see it was not my fault,” Lily summed +up. + +“Not your fault that Bertha didn’t turn up? My poor child, if only +you don’t have to pay for it!” Mrs. Fisher rose—she had seen Mrs. +Bry surging back in her direction. “There’s Louisa, and I must +be off—oh, we’re on the best of terms externally; we’re lunching +together; but at heart it’s ME she’s lunching on,” she explained; +and with a last hand-clasp and a last look, she added: “Remember, I +leave her to you; she’s hovering now, ready to take you in.” + + * * * * * + +Lily carried the impression of Mrs. Fisher’s leave-taking away with +her from the Casino doors. She had accomplished, before leaving, +the first step toward her reinstatement in Mrs. Bry’s good graces. +An affable advance—a vague murmur that they must see more of each +other—an allusive glance to a near future that was felt to include +the Duchess as well as the Sabrina—how easily it was all done, if +one possessed the knack of doing it! She wondered at herself, as +she had so often wondered, that, possessing the knack, she did not +more consistently exercise it. But sometimes she was forgetful—and +sometimes, could it be that she was proud? Today, at any rate, she +had been vaguely conscious of a reason for sinking her pride, had +in fact even sunk it to the point of suggesting to Lord Hubert +Dacey, whom she ran across on the Casino steps, that he might +really get the Duchess to dine with the Brys, if SHE undertook to +have them asked on the Sabrina. Lord Hubert had promised his help, +with the readiness on which she could always count: it was his only +way of ever reminding her that he had once been ready to do so much +more for her. Her path, in short, seemed to smooth itself before +her as she advanced; yet the faint stir of uneasiness persisted. +Had it been produced, she wondered, by her chance meeting with +Selden? She thought not—time and change seemed so completely to +have relegated him to his proper distance. The sudden and exquisite +reaction from her anxieties had had the effect of throwing the +recent past so far back that even Selden, as part of it, retained +a certain air of unreality. And he had made it so clear that they +were not to meet again; that he had merely dropped down to Nice +for a day or two, and had almost his foot on the next steamer. +No—that part of the past had merely surged up for a moment on the +fleeing surface of events; and now that it was submerged again, the +uncertainty, the apprehension persisted. + +They grew to sudden acuteness as she caught sight of George Dorset +descending the steps of the Hotel de Paris and making for her +across the square. She had meant to drive down to the quay and +regain the yacht; but she now had the immediate impression that +something more was to happen first. + +“Which way are you going? Shall we walk a bit?” he began, putting +the second question before the first was answered, and not waiting +for a reply to either before he directed her silently toward the +comparative seclusion of the lower gardens. + +She detected in him at once all the signs of extreme nervous +tension. The skin was puffed out under his sunken eyes, and its +sallowness had paled to a leaden white against which his irregular +eyebrows and long reddish moustache were relieved with a saturnine +effect. His appearance, in short, presented an odd mixture of the +bedraggled and the ferocious. + +He walked beside her in silence, with quick precipitate steps, till +they reached the embowered slopes to the east of the Casino; then, +pulling up abruptly, he said: “Have you seen Bertha?” + +“No—when I left the yacht she was not yet up.” + +He received this with a laugh like the whirring sound in a disabled +clock. “Not yet up? Had she gone to bed? Do you know at what time +she came on board? This morning at seven!” he exclaimed. + +“At seven?” Lily started. “What happened—an accident to the train?” + +He laughed again. “They missed the train—all the trains—they had to +drive back.” + +“Well——?” She hesitated, feeling at once how little even this +necessity accounted for the fatal lapse of hours. + +“Well, they couldn’t get a carriage at once—at that time of night, +you know—” the explanatory note made it almost seem as though he +were putting the case for his wife—“and when they finally did, it +was only a one-horse cab, and the horse was lame!” + +“How tiresome! I see,” she affirmed, with the more earnestness +because she was so nervously conscious that she did not; and after +a pause she added: “I’m so sorry—but ought we to have waited?” + +“Waited for the one-horse cab? It would scarcely have carried the +four of us, do you think?” + +She took this in what seemed the only possible way, with a laugh +intended to sink the question itself in his humorous treatment of +it. “Well, it would have been difficult; we should have had to walk +by turns. But it would have been jolly to see the sunrise.” + +“Yes: the sunrise WAS jolly,” he agreed. + +“Was it? You saw it, then?” + +“I saw it, yes; from the deck. I waited up for them.” + +“Naturally—I suppose you were worried. Why didn’t you call on me to +share your vigil?” + +He stood still, dragging at his moustache with a lean weak hand. “I +don’t think you would have cared for its DENOUEMENT,” he said with +sudden grimness. + +Again she was disconcerted by the abrupt change in his tone, and +as in one flash she saw the peril of the moment, and the need of +keeping her sense of it out of her eyes. + +“DENOUEMENT—isn’t that too big a word for such a small incident? +The worst of it, after all, is the fatigue which Bertha has +probably slept off by this time.” + +She clung to the note bravely, though its futility was now plain to +her in the glare of his miserable eyes. + +“Don’t—don’t——!” he broke out, with the hurt cry of a child; and +while she tried to merge her sympathy, and her resolve to ignore +any cause for it, in one ambiguous murmur of deprecation, he +dropped down on the bench near which they had paused, and poured +out the wretchedness of his soul. + +It was a dreadful hour—an hour from which she emerged shrinking +and seared, as though her lids had been scorched by its actual +glare. It was not that she had never had premonitory glimpses of +such an outbreak; but rather because, here and there throughout +the three months, the surface of life had shown such ominous +cracks and vapours that her fears had always been on the alert +for an upheaval. There had been moments when the situation had +presented itself under a homelier yet more vivid image—that of a +shaky vehicle, dashed by unbroken steeds over a bumping road, while +she cowered within, aware that the harness wanted mending, and +wondering what would give way first. Well—everything had given way +now; and the wonder was that the crazy outfit had held together so +long. Her sense of being involved in the crash, instead of merely +witnessing it from the road, was intensified by the way in which +Dorset, through his furies of denunciation and wild reactions of +self-contempt, made her feel the need he had of her, the place she +had taken in his life. But for her, what ear would have been open +to his cries? And what hand but hers could drag him up again to a +footing of sanity and self-respect? All through the stress of the +struggle with him, she had been conscious of something faintly +maternal in her efforts to guide and uplift him. But for the +present, if he clung to her, it was not in order to be dragged up, +but to feel some one floundering in the depths with him: he wanted +her to suffer with him, not to help him to suffer less. + +Happily for both, there was little physical strength to sustain his +frenzy. It left him, collapsed and breathing heavily, to an apathy +so deep and prolonged that Lily almost feared the passers-by would +think it the result of a seizure, and stop to offer their aid. But +Monte Carlo is, of all places, the one where the human bond is +least close, and odd sights are the least arresting. If a glance +or two lingered on the couple, no intrusive sympathy disturbed +them; and it was Lily herself who broke the silence by rising from +her seat. With the clearing of her vision the sweep of peril had +extended, and she saw that the post of danger was no longer at +Dorset’s side. + +“If you won’t go back, I must—don’t make me leave you!” she urged. + +But he remained mutely resistant, and she added: “What are you +going to do? You really can’t sit here all night.” + +“I can go to an hotel. I can telegraph my lawyers.” He sat up, +roused by a new thought. “By Jove, Selden’s at Nice—I’ll send for +Selden!” + +Lily, at this, reseated herself with a cry of alarm. “No, no, NO!” +she protested. + +He swung round on her distrustfully. “Why not Selden? He’s a lawyer +isn’t he? One will do as well as another in a case like this.” + +“As badly as another, you mean. I thought you relied on ME to help +you.” + +“You do—by being so sweet and patient with me. If it hadn’t been +for you I’d have ended the thing long ago. But now it’s got to +end.” He rose suddenly, straightening himself with an effort. “You +can’t want to see me ridiculous.” + +She looked at him kindly. “That’s just it.” Then, after a moment’s +pondering, almost to her own surprise she broke out with a flash of +inspiration: “Well, go over and see Mr. Selden. You’ll have time to +do it before dinner.” + +“Oh, DINNER——” he mocked her; but she left him with the smiling +rejoinder: “Dinner on board, remember; we’ll put it off till nine +if you like.” + +It was past four already; and when a cab had dropped her at the +quay, and she stood waiting for the gig to put off for her, +she began to wonder what had been happening on the yacht. Of +Silverton’s whereabouts there had been no mention. Had he returned +to the Sabrina? Or could Bertha—the dread alternative sprang on +her suddenly—could Bertha, left to herself, have gone ashore to +rejoin him? Lily’s heart stood still at the thought. All her +concern had hitherto been for young Silverton, not only because, +in such affairs, the woman’s instinct is to side with the man, but +because his case made a peculiar appeal to her sympathies. He was +so desperately in earnest, poor youth, and his earnestness was of +so different a quality from Bertha’s, though hers too was desperate +enough. The difference was that Bertha was in earnest only about +herself, while he was in earnest about her. But now, at the actual +crisis, this difference seemed to throw the weight of destitution +on Bertha’s side, since at least he had her to suffer for, and +she had only herself. At any rate, viewed less ideally, all the +disadvantages of such a situation were for the woman; and it was +to Bertha that Lily’s sympathies now went out. She was not fond of +Bertha Dorset, but neither was she without a sense of obligation, +the heavier for having so little personal liking to sustain it. +Bertha had been kind to her, they had lived together, during the +last months, on terms of easy friendship, and the sense of friction +of which Lily had recently become aware seemed to make it the more +urgent that she should work undividedly in her friend’s interest. + +It was in Bertha’s interest, certainly, that she had despatched +Dorset to consult with Lawrence Selden. Once the grotesqueness +of the situation accepted, she had seen at a glance that it was +the safest in which Dorset could find himself. Who but Selden +could thus miraculously combine the skill to save Bertha with the +obligation of doing so? The consciousness that much skill would +be required made Lily rest thankfully in the greatness of the +obligation. Since he would HAVE to pull Bertha through she could +trust him to find a way; and she put the fulness of her trust in +the telegram she managed to send him on her way to the quay. + +Thus far, then, Lily felt that she had done well; and the +conviction strengthened her for the task that remained. She and +Bertha had never been on confidential terms, but at such a crisis +the barriers of reserve must surely fall: Dorset’s wild allusions +to the scene of the morning made Lily feel that they were down +already, and that any attempt to rebuild them would be beyond +Bertha’s strength. She pictured the poor creature shivering behind +her fallen defences and awaiting with suspense the moment when +she could take refuge in the first shelter that offered. If only +that shelter had not already offered itself elsewhere! As the gig +traversed the short distance between the quay and the yacht, Lily +grew more than ever alarmed at the possible consequences of her +long absence. What if the wretched Bertha, finding in all the long +hours no soul to turn to—but by this time Lily’s eager foot was on +the side-ladder, and her first step on the Sabrina showed the worst +of her apprehensions to be unfounded; for there, in the luxurious +shade of the after-deck, the wretched Bertha, in full command of +her usual attenuated elegance, sat dispensing tea to the Duchess of +Beltshire and Lord Hubert. + +The sight filled Lily with such surprise that she felt that +Bertha, at least, must read its meaning in her look, and she was +proportionately disconcerted by the blankness of the look returned. +But in an instant she saw that Mrs. Dorset had, of necessity, to +look blank before the others, and that, to mitigate the effect +of her own surprise, she must at once produce some simple reason +for it. The long habit of rapid transitions made it easy for her +to exclaim to the Duchess: “Why, I thought you’d gone back to the +Princess!” and this sufficed for the lady she addressed, if it was +hardly enough for Lord Hubert. + +At least it opened the way to a lively explanation of how the +Duchess was, in fact, going back the next moment, but had first +rushed out to the yacht for a word with Mrs. Dorset on the subject +of tomorrow’s dinner—the dinner with the Brys, to which Lord Hubert +had finally insisted on dragging them. + +“To save my neck, you know!” he explained, with a glance that +appealed to Lily for some recognition of his promptness; and the +Duchess added, with her noble candour: “Mr. Bry has promised him a +tip, and he says if we go he’ll pass it onto us.” + +This led to some final pleasantries, in which, as it seemed to +Lily, Mrs. Dorset bore her part with astounding bravery, and at the +close of which Lord Hubert, from half way down the side-ladder, +called back, with an air of numbering heads: “And of course we may +count on Dorset too?” + +“Oh, count on him,” his wife assented gaily. She was keeping up +well to the last—but as she turned back from waving her adieux over +the side, Lily said to herself that the mask must drop and the soul +of fear look out. + +Mrs. Dorset turned back slowly; perhaps she wanted time to steady +her muscles; at any rate, they were still under perfect control +when, dropping once more into her seat behind the tea-table, she +remarked to Miss Bart with a faint touch of irony: “I suppose I +ought to say good morning.” + +If it was a cue, Lily was ready to take it, though with only +the vaguest sense of what was expected of her in return. There +was something unnerving in the contemplation of Mrs. Dorset’s +composure, and she had to force the light tone in which she +answered: “I tried to see you this morning, but you were not yet +up.” + +“No—I got to bed late. After we missed you at the station I thought +we ought to wait for you till the last train.” She spoke very +gently, but with just the least tinge of reproach. + +“You missed us? You waited for us at the station?” Now indeed Lily +was too far adrift in bewilderment to measure the other’s words or +keep watch on her own. “But I thought you didn’t get to the station +till after the last train had left!” + +Mrs. Dorset, examining her between lowered lids, met this with the +immediate query: “Who told you that?” + +“George—I saw him just now in the gardens.” + +“Ah, is that George’s version? Poor George—he was in no state to +remember what I told him. He had one of his worst attacks this +morning, and I packed him off to see the doctor. Do you know if he +found him?” + +Lily, still lost in conjecture, made no reply, and Mrs. Dorset +settled herself indolently in her seat. “He’ll wait to see him; he +was horribly frightened about himself. It’s very bad for him to be +worried, and whenever anything upsetting happens, it always brings +on an attack.” + +This time Lily felt sure that a cue was being pressed on her; +but it was put forth with such startling suddenness, and with so +incredible an air of ignoring what it led up to, that she could +only falter out doubtfully: “Anything upsetting?” + +“Yes—such as having you so conspicuously on his hands in the small +hours. You know, my dear, you’re rather a big responsibility in +such a scandalous place after midnight.” + +At that—at the complete unexpectedness and the inconceivable +audacity of it—Lily could not restrain the tribute of an astonished +laugh. + +“Well, really—considering it was you who burdened him with the +responsibility!” + +Mrs. Dorset took this with an exquisite mildness. “By not having +the superhuman cleverness to discover you in that frightful rush +for the train? Or the imagination to believe that you’d take it +without us—you and he all alone—instead of waiting quietly in the +station till we DID manage to meet you?” + +Lily’s colour rose: it was growing clear to her that Bertha was +pursuing an object, following a line she had marked out for +herself. Only, with such a doom impending, why waste time in these +childish efforts to avert it? The puerility of the attempt disarmed +Lily’s indignation: did it not prove how horribly the poor creature +was frightened? + +“No; by our simply all keeping together at Nice,” she returned. + +“Keeping together? When it was you who seized the first opportunity +to rush off with the Duchess and her friends? My dear Lily, you are +not a child to be led by the hand!” + +“No—nor to be lectured, Bertha, really; if that’s what you are +doing to me now.” + +Mrs. Dorset smiled on her reproachfully. “Lecture you—I? Heaven +forbid! I was merely trying to give you a friendly hint. But it’s +usually the other way round, isn’t it? I’m expected to take hints, +not to give them: I’ve positively lived on them all these last +months.” + +“Hints—from me to you?” Lily repeated. + +“Oh, negative ones merely—what not to be and to do and to see. And +I think I’ve taken them to admiration. Only, my dear, if you’ll let +me say so, I didn’t understand that one of my negative duties was +NOT to warn you when you carried your imprudence too far.” + +A chill of fear passed over Miss Bart: a sense of remembered +treachery that was like the gleam of a knife in the dusk. But +compassion, in a moment, got the better of her instinctive +recoil. What was this outpouring of senseless bitterness but the +tracked creature’s attempt to cloud the medium through which it +was fleeing? It was on Lily’s lips to exclaim: “You poor soul, +don’t double and turn—come straight back to me, and we’ll find a +way out!” But the words died under the impenetrable insolence of +Bertha’s smile. Lily sat silent, taking the brunt of it quietly, +letting it spend itself on her to the last drop of its accumulated +falseness; then, without a word, she rose and went down to her +cabin. + + + + +Chapter 3 + + +Miss Bart’s telegram caught Lawrence Selden at the door of his +hotel; and having read it, he turned back to wait for Dorset. The +message necessarily left large gaps for conjecture; but all that he +had recently heard and seen made these but too easy to fill in. On +the whole he was surprised; for though he had perceived that the +situation contained all the elements of an explosion, he had often +enough, in the range of his personal experience, seen just such +combinations subside into harmlessness. Still, Dorset’s spasmodic +temper, and his wife’s reckless disregard of appearances, gave the +situation a peculiar insecurity; and it was less from the sense of +any special relation to the case than from a purely professional +zeal, that Selden resolved to guide the pair to safety. Whether, in +the present instance, safety for either lay in repairing so damaged +a tie, it was no business of his to consider: he had only, on +general principles, to think of averting a scandal, and his desire +to avert it was increased by his fear of its involving Miss Bart. +There was nothing specific in this apprehension; he merely wished +to spare her the embarrassment of being ever so remotely connected +with the public washing of the Dorset linen. + +How exhaustive and unpleasant such a process would be, he saw +even more vividly after his two hours’ talk with poor Dorset. If +anything came out at all, it would be such a vast unpacking of +accumulated moral rags as left him, after his visitor had gone, +with the feeling that he must fling open the windows and have his +room swept out. But nothing should come out; and happily for his +side of the case, the dirty rags, however pieced together, could +not, without considerable difficulty, be turned into a homogeneous +grievance. The torn edges did not always fit—there were missing +bits, there were disparities of size and colour, all of which it +was naturally Selden’s business to make the most of in putting +them under his client’s eye. But to a man in Dorset’s mood the +completest demonstration could not carry conviction, and Selden saw +that for the moment all he could do was to soothe and temporize, +to offer sympathy and to counsel prudence. He let Dorset depart +charged to the brim with the sense that, till their next meeting, +he must maintain a strictly noncommittal attitude; that, in short, +his share in the game consisted for the present in looking on. +Selden knew, however, that he could not long keep such violences +in equilibrium; and he promised to meet Dorset, the next morning, +at an hotel in Monte Carlo. Meanwhile he counted not a little on +the reaction of weakness and self-distrust that, in such natures, +follows on every unwonted expenditure of moral force; and his +telegraphic reply to Miss Bart consisted simply in the injunction: +“Assume that everything is as usual.” + +On this assumption, in fact, the early part of the following day +was lived through. Dorset, as if in obedience to Lily’s imperative +bidding, had actually returned in time for a late dinner on the +yacht. The repast had been the most difficult moment of the day. +Dorset was sunk in one of the abysmal silences which so commonly +followed on what his wife called his “attacks” that it was easy, +before the servants, to refer it to this cause; but Bertha herself +seemed, perversely enough, little disposed to make use of this +obvious means of protection. She simply left the brunt of the +situation on her husband’s hands, as if too absorbed in a grievance +of her own to suspect that she might be the object of one herself. +To Lily this attitude was the most ominous, because the most +perplexing, element in the situation. As she tried to fan the +weak flicker of talk, to build up, again and again, the crumbling +structure of “appearances,” her own attention was perpetually +distracted by the question: “What on earth can she be driving at?” +There was something positively exasperating in Bertha’s attitude +of isolated defiance. If only she would have given her friend a +hint they might still have worked together successfully; but how +could Lily be of use, while she was thus obstinately shut out from +participation? To be of use was what she honestly wanted; and not +for her own sake but for the Dorsets’. She had not thought of her +own situation at all: she was simply engrossed in trying to put a +little order in theirs. But the close of the short dreary evening +left her with a sense of effort hopelessly wasted. She had not +tried to see Dorset alone: she had positively shrunk from a renewal +of his confidences. It was Bertha whose confidence she sought, and +who should as eagerly have invited her own; and Bertha, as if in +the infatuation of self-destruction, was actually pushing away her +rescuing hand. + +Lily, going to bed early, had left the couple to themselves; and +it seemed part of the general mystery in which she moved that +more than an hour should elapse before she heard Bertha walk down +the silent passage and regain her room. The morrow, rising on an +apparent continuance of the same conditions, revealed nothing of +what had occurred between the confronted pair. One fact alone +outwardly proclaimed the change they were all conspiring to +ignore; and that was the non-appearance of Ned Silverton. No one +referred to it, and this tacit avoidance of the subject kept +it in the immediate foreground of consciousness. But there was +another change, perceptible only to Lily; and that was that Dorset +now avoided her almost as pointedly as his wife. Perhaps he was +repenting his rash outpourings of the previous day; perhaps only +trying, in his clumsy way, to conform to Selden’s counsel to behave +“as usual.” Such instructions no more make for easiness of attitude +than the photographer’s behest to “look natural”; and in a creature +as unconscious as poor Dorset of the appearance he habitually +presented, the struggle to maintain a pose was sure to result in +queer contortions. + +It resulted, at any rate, in throwing Lily strangely on her own +resources. She had learned, on leaving her room, that Mrs. Dorset +was still invisible, and that Dorset had left the yacht early; and +feeling too restless to remain alone, she too had herself ferried +ashore. Straying toward the Casino, she attached herself to a +group of acquaintances from Nice, with whom she lunched, and in +whose company she was returning to the rooms when she encountered +Selden crossing the square. She could not, at the moment, separate +herself definitely from her party, who had hospitably assumed that +she would remain with them till they took their departure; but she +found time for a momentary pause of enquiry, to which he promptly +returned: “I’ve seen him again—he’s just left me.” + +She waited before him anxiously. “Well? what has happened? What +WILL happen?” + +“Nothing as yet—and nothing in the future, I think.” + +“It’s over, then? It’s settled? You’re sure?” + +He smiled. “Give me time. I’m not sure—but I’m a good deal surer.” +And with that she had to content herself, and hasten on to the +expectant group on the steps. + +Selden had in fact given her the utmost measure of his sureness, +had even stretched it a shade to meet the anxiety in her eyes. And +now, as he turned away, strolling down the hill toward the station, +that anxiety remained with him as the visible justification of +his own. It was not, indeed, anything specific that he feared: +there had been a literal truth in his declaration that he did not +think anything would happen. What troubled him was that, though +Dorset’s attitude had perceptibly changed, the change was not +clearly to be accounted for. It had certainly not been produced by +Selden’s arguments, or by the action of his own soberer reason. +Five minutes’ talk sufficed to show that some alien influence had +been at work, and that it had not so much subdued his resentment +as weakened his will, so that he moved under it in a state of +apathy, like a dangerous lunatic who has been drugged. Temporarily, +no doubt, however exerted, it worked for the general safety: the +question was how long it would last, and by what kind of reaction +it was likely to be followed. On these points Selden could gain no +light; for he saw that one effect of the transformation had been to +shut him off from free communion with Dorset. The latter, indeed, +was still moved by the irresistible desire to discuss his wrong; +but, though he revolved about it with the same forlorn tenacity, +Selden was aware that something always restrained him from full +expression. His state was one to produce first weariness and then +impatience in his hearer; and when their talk was over, Selden +began to feel that he had done his utmost, and might justifiably +wash his hands of the sequel. + +It was in this mind that he had been making his way back to the +station when Miss Bart crossed his path; but though, after his +brief word with her, he kept mechanically on his course, he was +conscious of a gradual change in his purpose. The change had been +produced by the look in her eyes; and in his eagerness to define +the nature of that look, he dropped into a seat in the gardens, +and sat brooding upon the question. It was natural enough, in +all conscience, that she should appear anxious: a young woman +placed, in the close intimacy of a yachting-cruise, between a +couple on the verge of disaster, could hardly, aside from her +concern for her friends, be insensible to the awkwardness of her +own position. The worst of it was that, in interpreting Miss +Bart’s state of mind, so many alternative readings were possible; +and one of these, in Selden’s troubled mind, took the ugly form +suggested by Mrs. Fisher. If the girl was afraid, was she afraid +for herself or for her friends? And to what degree was her dread of +a catastrophe intensified by the sense of being fatally involved +in it? The burden of offence lying manifestly with Mrs. Dorset, +this conjecture seemed on the face of it gratuitously unkind; but +Selden knew that in the most one-sided matrimonial quarrel there +are generally counter-charges to be brought, and that they are +brought with the greater audacity where the original grievance +is so emphatic. Mrs. Fisher had not hesitated to suggest the +likelihood of Dorset’s marrying Miss Bart if “anything happened”; +and though Mrs. Fisher’s conclusions were notoriously rash, she +was shrewd enough in reading the signs from which they were drawn. +Dorset had apparently shown marked interest in the girl, and this +interest might be used to cruel advantage in his wife’s struggle +for rehabilitation. Selden knew that Bertha would fight to the +last round of powder: the rashness of her conduct was illogically +combined with a cold determination to escape its consequences. +She could be as unscrupulous in fighting for herself as she was +reckless in courting danger, and whatever came to her hand at such +moments was likely to be used as a defensive missile. He did not, +as yet, see clearly just what course she was likely to take, but +his perplexity increased his apprehension, and with it the sense +that, before leaving, he must speak again with Miss Bart. Whatever +her share in the situation—and he had always honestly tried to +resist judging her by her surroundings—however free she might be +from any personal connection with it, she would be better out of +the way of a possible crash; and since she had appealed to him for +help, it was clearly his business to tell her so. + +This decision at last brought him to his feet, and carried him +back to the gambling rooms, within whose doors he had seen her +disappearing; but a prolonged exploration of the crowd failed +to put him on her traces. He saw instead, to his surprise, Ned +Silverton loitering somewhat ostentatiously about the tables; and +the discovery that this actor in the drama was not only hovering in +the wings, but actually inviting the exposure of the footlights, +though it might have seemed to imply that all peril was over, +served rather to deepen Selden’s sense of foreboding. Charged with +this impression he returned to the square, hoping to see Miss Bart +move across it, as every one in Monte Carlo seemed inevitably to do +at least a dozen times a day; but here again he waited vainly for +a glimpse of her, and the conclusion was slowly forced on him that +she had gone back to the Sabrina. It would be difficult to follow +her there, and still more difficult, should he do so, to contrive +the opportunity for a private word; and he had almost decided on +the unsatisfactory alternative of writing, when the ceaseless +diorama of the square suddenly unrolled before him the figures of +Lord Hubert and Mrs. Bry. + +Hailing them at once with his question, he learned from Lord +Hubert that Miss Bart had just returned to the Sabrina in Dorset’s +company; an announcement so evidently disconcerting to him that +Mrs. Bry, after a glance from her companion, which seemed to act +like the pressure on a spring, brought forth the prompt proposal +that he should come and meet his friends at dinner that evening—“At +Becassin’s—a little dinner to the Duchess,” she flashed out before +Lord Hubert had time to remove the pressure. + +Selden’s sense of the privilege of being included in such company +brought him early in the evening to the door of the restaurant, +where he paused to scan the ranks of diners approaching down the +brightly lit terrace. There, while the Brys hovered within over +the last agitating alternatives of the MENU, he kept watch for +the guests from the Sabrina, who at length rose on the horizon in +company with the Duchess, Lord and Lady Skiddaw and the Stepneys. +From this group it was easy for him to detach Miss Bart on the +pretext of a moment’s glance into one of the brilliant shops along +the terrace, and to say to her, while they lingered together in the +white dazzle of a jeweller’s window: “I stopped over to see you—to +beg of you to leave the yacht.” + +The eyes she turned on him showed a quick gleam of her former fear. +“To leave—? What do you mean? What has happened?” + +“Nothing. But if anything should, why be in the way of it?” + +The glare from the jeweller’s window, deepening the pallor of her +face, gave to its delicate lines the sharpness of a tragic mask. +“Nothing will, I am sure; but while there’s even a doubt left, how +can you think I would leave Bertha?” + +The words rang out on a note of contempt—was it possibly of +contempt for himself? Well, he was willing to risk its renewal +to the extent of insisting, with an undeniable throb of added +interest: “You have yourself to think of, you know—” to which, with +a strange fall of sadness in her voice, she answered, meeting his +eyes: “If you knew how little difference that makes!” + +“Oh, well, nothing WILL happen,” he said, more for his own +reassurance than for hers; and “Nothing, nothing, of course!” she +valiantly assented, as they turned to overtake their companions. + +In the thronged restaurant, taking their places about Mrs. Bry’s +illuminated board, their confidence seemed to gain support from +the familiarity of their surroundings. Here were Dorset and his +wife once more presenting their customary faces to the world, she +engrossed in establishing her relation with an intensely new gown, +he shrinking with dyspeptic dread from the multiplied solicitations +of the MENU. The mere fact that they thus showed themselves +together, with the utmost openness the place afforded, seemed +to declare beyond a doubt that their differences were composed. +How this end had been attained was still matter for wonder, but +it was clear that for the moment Miss Bart rested confidently in +the result; and Selden tried to achieve the same view by telling +himself that her opportunities for observation had been ampler than +his own. + +Meanwhile, as the dinner advanced through a labyrinth of courses, +in which it became clear that Mrs. Bry had occasionally broken away +from Lord Hubert’s restraining hand, Selden’s general watchfulness +began to lose itself in a particular study of Miss Bart. It was +one of the days when she was so handsome that to be handsome was +enough, and all the rest—her grace, her quickness, her social +felicities—seemed the overflow of a bounteous nature. But what +especially struck him was the way in which she detached herself, by +a hundred undefinable shades, from the persons who most abounded +in her own style. It was in just such company, the fine flower +and complete expression of the state she aspired to, that the +differences came out with special poignancy, her grace cheapening +the other women’s smartness as her finely-discriminated silences +made their chatter dull. The strain of the last hours had restored +to her face the deeper eloquence which Selden had lately missed +in it, and the bravery of her words to him still fluttered in her +voice and eyes. Yes, she was matchless—it was the one word for +her; and he could give his admiration the freer play because so +little personal feeling remained in it. His real detachment from +her had taken place, not at the lurid moment of disenchantment, +but now, in the sober after-light of discrimination, where he saw +her definitely divided from him by the crudeness of a choice which +seemed to deny the very differences he felt in her. It was before +him again in its completeness—the choice in which she was content +to rest: in the stupid costliness of the food and the showy dulness +of the talk, in the freedom of speech which never arrived at wit +and the freedom of act which never made for romance. The strident +setting of the restaurant, in which their table seemed set apart +in a special glare of publicity, and the presence at it of little +Dabham of the “Riviera Notes,” emphasized the ideals of a world +where conspicuousness passed for distinction, and the society +column had become the roll of fame. + +It was as the immortalizer of such occasions that little Dabham, +wedged in modest watchfulness between two brilliant neighbours, +suddenly became the centre of Selden’s scrutiny. How much did he +know of what was going on, and how much, for his purpose, was still +worth finding out? His little eyes were like tentacles thrown +out to catch the floating intimations with which, to Selden, the +air at moments seemed thick; then again it cleared to its normal +emptiness, and he could see nothing in it for the journalist +but leisure to note the elegance of the ladies’ gowns. Mrs. +Dorset’s, in particular, challenged all the wealth of Mr. Dabham’s +vocabulary: it had surprises and subtleties worthy of what he +would have called “the literary style.” At first, as Selden had +noticed, it had been almost too preoccupying to its wearer; but now +she was in full command of it, and was even producing her effects +with unwonted freedom. Was she not, indeed, too free, too fluent, +for perfect naturalness? And was not Dorset, to whom his glance +had passed by a natural transition, too jerkily wavering between +the same extremes? Dorset indeed was always jerky; but it seemed +to Selden that tonight each vibration swung him farther from his +centre. + +The dinner, meanwhile, was moving to its triumphant close, to +the evident satisfaction of Mrs. Bry, who, throned in apoplectic +majesty between Lord Skiddaw and Lord Hubert, seemed in spirit to +be calling on Mrs. Fisher to witness her achievement. Short of +Mrs. Fisher her audience might have been called complete; for the +restaurant was crowded with persons mainly gathered there for the +purpose of spectatorship, and accurately posted as to the names and +faces of the celebrities they had come to see. Mrs. Bry, conscious +that all her feminine guests came under that heading, and that +each one looked her part to admiration, shone on Lily with all the +pent-up gratitude that Mrs. Fisher had failed to deserve. Selden, +catching the glance, wondered what part Miss Bart had played in +organizing the entertainment. She did, at least, a great deal to +adorn it; and as he watched the bright security with which she bore +herself, he smiled to think that he should have fancied her in +need of help. Never had she appeared more serenely mistress of the +situation than when, at the moment of dispersal, detaching herself +a little from the group about the table, she turned with a smile +and a graceful slant of the shoulders to receive her cloak from +Dorset. + +The dinner had been protracted over Mr. Bry’s exceptional cigars +and a bewildering array of liqueurs, and many of the other tables +were empty; but a sufficient number of diners still lingered to +give relief to the leave-taking of Mrs. Bry’s distinguished guests. +This ceremony was drawn out and complicated by the fact that it +involved, on the part of the Duchess and Lady Skiddaw, definite +farewells, and pledges of speedy reunion in Paris, where they were +to pause and replenish their wardrobes on the way to England. The +quality of Mrs. Bry’s hospitality, and of the tips her husband +had presumably imparted, lent to the manner of the English ladies +a general effusiveness which shed the rosiest light over their +hostess’s future. In its glow Mrs. Dorset and the Stepneys were +also visibly included, and the whole scene had touches of intimacy +worth their weight in gold to the watchful pen of Mr. Dabham. + +A glance at her watch caused the Duchess to exclaim to her sister +that they had just time to dash for their train, and the flurry +of this departure over, the Stepneys, who had their motor at the +door, offered to convey the Dorsets and Miss Bart to the quay. The +offer was accepted, and Mrs. Dorset moved away with her husband +in attendance. Miss Bart had lingered for a last word with Lord +Hubert, and Stepney, on whom Mr. Bry was pressing a final, and +still more expensive, cigar, called out: “Come on, Lily, if you’re +going back to the yacht.” + +Lily turned to obey; but as she did so, Mrs. Dorset, who had paused +on her way out, moved a few steps back toward the table. + +“Miss Bart is not going back to the yacht,” she said in a voice of +singular distinctness. + +A startled look ran from eye to eye; Mrs. Bry crimsoned to the +verge of congestion, Mrs. Stepney slipped nervously behind her +husband, and Selden, in the general turmoil of his sensations, was +mainly conscious of a longing to grip Dabham by the collar and +fling him out into the street. + +Dorset, meanwhile, had stepped back to his wife’s side. His +face was white, and he looked about him with cowed angry eyes. +“Bertha!—Miss Bart . . . this is some misunderstanding . . . some +mistake....” + +“Miss Bart remains here,” his wife rejoined incisively. “And, I +think, George, we had better not detain Mrs. Stepney any longer.” + +Miss Bart, during this brief exchange of words, remained in +admirable erectness, slightly isolated from the embarrassed group +about her. She had paled a little under the shock of the insult, +but the discomposure of the surrounding faces was not reflected in +her own. The faint disdain of her smile seemed to lift her high +above her antagonist’s reach, and it was not till she had given +Mrs. Dorset the full measure of the distance between them that she +turned and extended her hand to her hostess. + +“I am joining the Duchess tomorrow,” she explained, “and it seemed +easier for me to remain on shore for the night.” + +She held firmly to Mrs. Bry’s wavering eye while she gave this +explanation, but when it was over Selden saw her send a tentative +glance from one to another of the women’s faces. She read their +incredulity in their averted looks, and in the mute wretchedness +of the men behind them, and for a miserable half-second he thought +she quivered on the brink of failure. Then, turning to him with an +easy gesture, and the pale bravery of her recovered smile—“Dear Mr. +Selden,” she said, “you promised to see me to my cab.” + + * * * * * + +Outside, the sky was gusty and overcast, and as Lily and Selden +moved toward the deserted gardens below the restaurant, spurts of +warm rain blew fitfully against their faces. The fiction of the cab +had been tacitly abandoned; they walked on in silence, her hand on +his arm, till the deeper shade of the gardens received them, and +pausing beside a bench, he said: “Sit down a moment.” + +She dropped to the seat without answering, but the electric lamp at +the bend of the path shed a gleam on the struggling misery of her +face. Selden sat down beside her, waiting for her to speak, fearful +lest any word he chose should touch too roughly on her wound, and +kept also from free utterance by the wretched doubt which had +slowly renewed itself within him. What had brought her to this +pass? What weakness had placed her so abominably at her enemy’s +mercy? And why should Bertha Dorset have turned into an enemy at +the very moment when she so obviously needed the support of her +sex? Even while his nerves raged at the subjection of husbands to +their wives, and at the cruelty of women to their kind, reason +obstinately harped on the proverbial relation between smoke and +fire. The memory of Mrs. Fisher’s hints, and the corroboration of +his own impressions, while they deepened his pity also increased +his constraint, since, whichever way he sought a free outlet for +sympathy, it was blocked by the fear of committing a blunder. + +Suddenly it struck him that his silence must seem almost as +accusatory as that of the men he had despised for turning from her; +but before he could find the fitting word she had cut him short +with a question. + +“Do you know of a quiet hotel? I can send for my maid in the +morning.” + +“An hotel—HERE—that you can go to alone? It’s not possible.” + +She met this with a pale gleam of her old playfulness. “What IS, +then? It’s too wet to sleep in the gardens.” + +“But there must be some one——” + +“Some one to whom I can go? Of course—any number—but at THIS hour? +You see my change of plan was rather sudden——” + +“Good God—if you’d listened to me!” he cried, venting his +helplessness in a burst of anger. + +She still held him off with the gentle mockery of her smile. “But +haven’t I?” she rejoined. “You advised me to leave the yacht, and +I’m leaving it.” + +He saw then, with a pang of self-reproach, that she meant neither +to explain nor to defend herself; that by his miserable silence he +had forfeited all chance of helping her, and that the decisive hour +was past. + +She had risen, and stood before him in a kind of clouded majesty, +like some deposed princess moving tranquilly to exile. + +“Lily!” he exclaimed, with a note of despairing appeal; but—“Oh, +not now,” she gently admonished him; and then, in all the sweetness +of her recovered composure: “Since I must find shelter somewhere, +and since you’re so kindly here to help me——” + +He gathered himself up at the challenge. “You will do as I tell +you? There’s but one thing, then; you must go straight to your +cousins, the Stepneys.” + +“Oh—” broke from her with a movement of instinctive resistance; +but he insisted: “Come—it’s late, and you must appear to have gone +there directly.” + +He had drawn her hand into his arm, but she held him back with a +last gesture of protest. “I can’t—I can’t—not that—you don’t know +Gwen: you mustn’t ask me!” + +“I MUST ask you—you must obey me,” he persisted, though infected at +heart by her own fear. + +Her voice sank to a whisper: “And if she refuses?”—but, “Oh, trust +me—trust me!” he could only insist in return; and yielding to his +touch, she let him lead her back in silence to the edge of the +square. + +In the cab they continued to remain silent through the brief drive +which carried them to the illuminated portals of the Stepneys’ +hotel. Here he left her outside, in the darkness of the raised +hood, while his name was sent up to Stepney, and he paced the showy +hall, awaiting the latter’s descent. Ten minutes later the two +men passed out together between the gold-laced custodians of the +threshold; but in the vestibule Stepney drew up with a last flare +of reluctance. + +“It’s understood, then?” he stipulated nervously, with his hand on +Selden’s arm. “She leaves tomorrow by the early train—and my wife’s +asleep, and can’t be disturbed.” + + + + +Chapter 4 + + +The blinds of Mrs. Peniston’s drawing-room were drawn down against +the oppressive June sun, and in the sultry twilight the faces of +her assembled relatives took on a fitting shadow of bereavement. +They were all there: Van Alstynes, Stepneys and Melsons—even a +stray Peniston or two, indicating, by a greater latitude in dress +and manner, the fact of remoter relationship and more settled +hopes. The Peniston side was, in fact, secure in the knowledge that +the bulk of Mr. Peniston’s property “went back”; while the direct +connection hung suspended on the disposal of his widow’s private +fortune and on the uncertainty of its extent. Jack Stepney, in +his new character as the richest nephew, tacitly took the lead, +emphasizing his importance by the deeper gloss of his mourning +and the subdued authority of his manner; while his wife’s bored +attitude and frivolous gown proclaimed the heiress’s disregard of +the insignificant interests at stake. Old Ned Van Alstyne, seated +next to her in a coat that made affliction dapper, twirled his +white moustache to conceal the eager twitch of his lips; and Grace +Stepney, red-nosed and smelling of crape, whispered emotionally to +Mrs. Herbert Melson: “I couldn’t BEAR to see the Niagara anywhere +else!” + +A rustle of weeds and quick turning of heads hailed the opening +of the door, and Lily Bart appeared, tall and noble in her black +dress, with Gerty Farish at her side. The women’s faces, as +she paused interrogatively on the threshold, were a study in +hesitation. One or two made faint motions of recognition, which +might have been subdued either by the solemnity of the scene, or by +the doubt as to how far the others meant to go; Mrs. Jack Stepney +gave a careless nod, and Grace Stepney, with a sepulchral gesture, +indicated a seat at her side. But Lily, ignoring the invitation, as +well as Jack Stepney’s official attempt to direct her, moved across +the room with her smooth free gait, and seated herself in a chair +which seemed to have been purposely placed apart from the others. + +It was the first time that she had faced her family since her +return from Europe, two weeks earlier; but if she perceived any +uncertainty in their welcome, it served only to add a tinge of +irony to the usual composure of her bearing. The shock of dismay +with which, on the dock, she had heard from Gerty Farish of Mrs. +Peniston’s sudden death, had been mitigated, almost at once, by +the irrepressible thought that now, at last, she would be able to +pay her debts. She had looked forward with considerable uneasiness +to her first encounter with her aunt. Mrs. Peniston had vehemently +opposed her niece’s departure with the Dorsets, and had marked +her continued disapproval by not writing during Lily’s absence. +The certainty that she had heard of the rupture with the Dorsets +made the prospect of the meeting more formidable; and how should +Lily have repressed a quick sense of relief at the thought that, +instead of undergoing the anticipated ordeal, she had only to +enter gracefully on a long-assured inheritance? It had been, in +the consecrated phrase, “always understood” that Mrs. Peniston was +to provide handsomely for her niece; and in the latter’s mind the +understanding had long since crystallized into fact. + +“She gets everything, of course—I don’t see what we’re here for,” +Mrs. Jack Stepney remarked with careless loudness to Ned Van +Alstyne; and the latter’s deprecating murmur—“Julia was always +a just woman”—might have been interpreted as signifying either +acquiescence or doubt. + +“Well, it’s only about four hundred thousand,” Mrs. Stepney +rejoined with a yawn; and Grace Stepney, in the silence produced by +the lawyer’s preliminary cough, was heard to sob out: “They won’t +find a towel missing—I went over them with her the very day——” + +Lily, oppressed by the close atmosphere, and the stifling odour +of fresh mourning, felt her attention straying as Mrs. Peniston’s +lawyer, solemnly erect behind the Buhl table at the end of the +room, began to rattle through the preamble of the will. + +“It’s like being in church,” she reflected, wondering vaguely where +Gwen Stepney had got such an awful hat. Then she noticed how stout +Jack had grown—he would soon be almost as plethoric as Herbert +Melson, who sat a few feet off, breathing puffily as he leaned his +black-gloved hands on his stick. + +“I wonder why rich people always grow fat—I suppose it’s because +there’s nothing to worry them. If I inherit, I shall have to be +careful of my figure,” she mused, while the lawyer droned on +through a labyrinth of legacies. The servants came first, then +a few charitable institutions, then several remoter Melsons and +Stepneys, who stirred consciously as their names rang out, and then +subsided into a state of impassiveness befitting the solemnity of +the occasion. Ned Van Alstyne, Jack Stepney, and a cousin or two +followed, each coupled with the mention of a few thousands: Lily +wondered that Grace Stepney was not among them. Then she heard her +own name—“to my niece Lily Bart ten thousand dollars—” and after +that the lawyer again lost himself in a coil of unintelligible +periods, from which the concluding phrase flashed out with +startling distinctness: “and the residue of my estate to my dear +cousin and name-sake, Grace Julia Stepney.” + +There was a subdued gasp of surprise, a rapid turning of heads, and +a surging of sable figures toward the corner in which Miss Stepney +wailed out her sense of unworthiness through the crumpled ball of a +black-edged handkerchief. + +Lily stood apart from the general movement, feeling herself for the +first time utterly alone. No one looked at her, no one seemed aware +of her presence; she was probing the very depths of insignificance. +And under her sense of the collective indifference came the acuter +pang of hopes deceived. Disinherited—she had been disinherited—and +for Grace Stepney! She met Gerty’s lamentable eyes, fixed on her +in a despairing effort at consolation, and the look brought her to +herself. There was something to be done before she left the house: +to be done with all the nobility she knew how to put into such +gestures. She advanced to the group about Miss Stepney, and holding +out her hand said simply: “Dear Grace, I am so glad.” + +The other ladies had fallen back at her approach, and a space +created itself about her. It widened as she turned to go, and no +one advanced to fill it up. She paused a moment, glancing about +her, calmly taking the measure of her situation. She heard some one +ask a question about the date of the will; she caught a fragment +of the lawyer’s answer—something about a sudden summons, and an +“earlier instrument.” Then the tide of dispersal began to drift +past her; Mrs. Jack Stepney and Mrs. Herbert Melson stood on the +doorstep awaiting their motor; a sympathizing group escorted Grace +Stepney to the cab it was felt to be fitting she should take, +though she lived but a street or two away; and Miss Bart and Gerty +found themselves almost alone in the purple drawing-room, which +more than ever, in its stuffy dimness, resembled a well-kept family +vault, in which the last corpse had just been decently deposited. + + * * * * * + +In Gerty Farish’s sitting-room, whither a hansom had carried the +two friends, Lily dropped into a chair with a faint sound of +laughter: it struck her as a humorous coincidence that her aunt’s +legacy should so nearly represent the amount of her debt to Trenor. +The need of discharging that debt had reasserted itself with +increased urgency since her return to America, and she spoke her +first thought in saying to the anxiously hovering Gerty: “I wonder +when the legacies will be paid.” + +But Miss Farish could not pause over the legacies; she broke into +a larger indignation. “Oh, Lily, it’s unjust; it’s cruel—Grace +Stepney must FEEL she has no right to all that money!” + +“Any one who knew how to please Aunt Julia has a right to her +money,” Miss Bart rejoined philosophically. + +“But she was devoted to you—she led every one to think—” Gerty +checked herself in evident embarrassment, and Miss Bart turned to +her with a direct look. “Gerty, be honest: this will was made only +six weeks ago. She had heard of my break with the Dorsets?” + +“Every one heard, of course, that there had been some +disagreement—some misunderstanding——” + +“Did she hear that Bertha turned me off the yacht?” + +“Lily!” + +“That was what happened, you know. She said I was trying to marry +George Dorset. She did it to make him think she was jealous. Isn’t +that what she told Gwen Stepney?” + +“I don’t know—I don’t listen to such horrors.” + +“I MUST listen to them—I must know where I stand.” She paused, and +again sounded a faint note of derision. “Did you notice the women? +They were afraid to snub me while they thought I was going to get +the money—afterward they scuttled off as if I had the plague.” +Gerty remained silent, and she continued: “I stayed on to see +what would happen. They took their cue from Gwen Stepney and Lulu +Melson—I saw them watching to see what Gwen would do.—Gerty, I must +know just what is being said of me.” + +“I tell you I don’t listen——” + +“One hears such things without listening.” She rose and laid her +resolute hands on Miss Farish’s shoulders. “Gerty, are people going +to cut me?” + +“Your FRIENDS, Lily—how can you think it?” + +“Who are one’s friends at such a time? Who, but you, you poor +trustful darling? And heaven knows what YOU suspect me of!” She +kissed Gerty with a whimsical murmur. “You’d never let it make any +difference—but then you’re fond of criminals, Gerty! How about the +irreclaimable ones, though? For I’m absolutely impenitent, you +know.” + +She drew herself up to the full height of her slender majesty, +towering like some dark angel of defiance above the troubled Gerty, +who could only falter out: “Lily, Lily—how can you laugh about such +things?” + +“So as not to weep, perhaps. But no—I’m not of the tearful order. I +discovered early that crying makes my nose red, and the knowledge +has helped me through several painful episodes.” She took a +restless turn about the room, and then, reseating herself, lifted +the bright mockery of her eyes to Gerty’s anxious countenance. + +“I shouldn’t have minded, you know, if I’d got the money—” and at +Miss Farish’s protesting “Oh!” she repeated calmly: “Not a straw, +my dear; for, in the first place, they wouldn’t have quite dared +to ignore me; and if they had, it wouldn’t have mattered, because +I should have been independent of them. But now—!” The irony faded +from her eyes, and she bent a clouded face upon her friend. + +“How can you talk so, Lily? Of course the money ought to have +been yours, but after all that makes no difference. The important +thing——” Gerty paused, and then continued firmly: “The important +thing is that you should clear yourself—should tell your friends +the whole truth.” + +“The whole truth?” Miss Bart laughed. “What is truth? Where a woman +is concerned, it’s the story that’s easiest to believe. In this +case it’s a great deal easier to believe Bertha Dorset’s story +than mine, because she has a big house and an opera box, and it’s +convenient to be on good terms with her.” + +Miss Farish still fixed her with an anxious gaze. “But what IS your +story, Lily? I don’t believe any one knows it yet.” + +“My story?—I don’t believe I know it myself. You see I never +thought of preparing a version in advance as Bertha did—and if I +had, I don’t think I should take the trouble to use it now.” + +But Gerty continued with her quiet reasonableness: “I don’t want a +version prepared in advance—but I want you to tell me exactly what +happened from the beginning.” + +“From the beginning?” Miss Bart gently mimicked her. “Dear Gerty, +how little imagination you good people have! Why, the beginning +was in my cradle, I suppose—in the way I was brought up, and the +things I was taught to care for. Or no—I won’t blame anybody for +my faults: I’ll say it was in my blood, that I got it from some +wicked pleasure-loving ancestress, who reacted against the homely +virtues of New Amsterdam, and wanted to be back at the court of +the Charleses!” And as Miss Farish continued to press her with +troubled eyes, she went on impatiently: “You asked me just now for +the truth—well, the truth about any girl is that once she’s talked +about she’s done for; and the more she explains her case the worse +it looks.—My good Gerty, you don’t happen to have a cigarette about +you?” + + * * * * * + +In her stuffy room at the hotel to which she had gone on landing, +Lily Bart that evening reviewed her situation. It was the last week +in June, and none of her friends were in town. The few relatives +who had stayed on, or returned, for the reading of Mrs. Peniston’s +will, had taken flight again that afternoon to Newport or Long +Island; and not one of them had made any proffer of hospitality +to Lily. For the first time in her life she found herself utterly +alone except for Gerty Farish. Even at the actual moment of +her break with the Dorsets she had not had so keen a sense of +its consequences, for the Duchess of Beltshire, hearing of the +catastrophe from Lord Hubert, had instantly offered her protection, +and under her sheltering wing Lily had made an almost triumphant +progress to London. There she had been sorely tempted to linger on +in a society which asked of her only to amuse and charm it, without +enquiring too curiously how she had acquired her gift for doing +so; but Selden, before they parted, had pressed on her the urgent +need of returning at once to her aunt, and Lord Hubert, when he +presently reappeared in London, abounded in the same counsel. Lily +did not need to be told that the Duchess’s championship was not the +best road to social rehabilitation, and as she was besides aware +that her noble defender might at any moment drop her in favour of a +new PROTEGEE, she reluctantly decided to return to America. But she +had not been ten minutes on her native shore before she realized +that she had delayed too long to regain it. The Dorsets, the +Stepneys, the Brys—all the actors and witnesses in the miserable +drama—had preceded her with their version of the case; and, even +had she seen the least chance of gaining a hearing for her own, +some obscure disdain and reluctance would have restrained her. +She knew it was not by explanations and counter-charges that she +could ever hope to recover her lost standing; but even had she felt +the least trust in their efficacy, she would still have been held +back by the feeling which had kept her from defending herself to +Gerty Farish—a feeling that was half pride and half humiliation. +For though she knew she had been ruthlessly sacrificed to Bertha +Dorset’s determination to win back her husband, and though her own +relation to Dorset had been that of the merest good-fellowship, yet +she had been perfectly aware from the outset that her part in the +affair was, as Carry Fisher brutally put it, to distract Dorset’s +attention from his wife. That was what she was “there for”: it was +the price she had chosen to pay for three months of luxury and +freedom from care. Her habit of resolutely facing the facts, in +her rare moments of introspection, did not now allow her to put +any false gloss on the situation. She had suffered for the very +faithfulness with which she had carried out her part of the tacit +compact, but the part was not a handsome one at best, and she saw +it now in all the ugliness of failure. + +She saw, too, in the same uncompromising light, the train of +consequences resulting from that failure; and these became clearer +to her with every day of her weary lingering in town. She stayed +on partly for the comfort of Gerty Farish’s nearness, and partly +for lack of knowing where to go. She understood well enough the +nature of the task before her. She must set out to regain, little +by little, the position she had lost; and the first step in the +tedious task was to find out, as soon as possible, on how many +of her friends she could count. Her hopes were mainly centred on +Mrs. Trenor, who had treasures of easy-going tolerance for those +who were amusing or useful to her, and in the noisy rush of whose +existence the still small voice of detraction was slow to make +itself heard. But Judy, though she must have been apprised of Miss +Bart’s return, had not even recognized it by the formal note of +condolence which her friend’s bereavement demanded. Any advance on +Lily’s side might have been perilous: there was nothing to do but +to trust to the happy chance of an accidental meeting, and Lily +knew that, even so late in the season, there was always a hope of +running across her friends in their frequent passages through town. + +To this end she assiduously showed herself at the restaurants they +frequented, where, attended by the troubled Gerty, she lunched +luxuriously, as she said, on her expectations. + +“My dear Gerty, you wouldn’t have me let the head-waiter see that +I’ve nothing to live on but Aunt Julia’s legacy? Think of Grace +Stepney’s satisfaction if she came in and found us lunching on cold +mutton and tea! What sweet shall we have today, dear—COUPE JACQUES +or PECHES A LA MELBA?” + +She dropped the MENU abruptly, with a quick heightening of colour, +and Gerty, following her glance, was aware of the advance, from an +inner room, of a party headed by Mrs. Trenor and Carry Fisher. It +was impossible for these ladies and their companions—among whom +Lily had at once distinguished both Trenor and Rosedale—not to +pass, in going out, the table at which the two girls were seated; +and Gerty’s sense of the fact betrayed itself in the helpless +trepidation of her manner. Miss Bart, on the contrary, borne +forward on the wave of her buoyant grace, and neither shrinking +from her friends nor appearing to lie in wait for them, gave to +the encounter the touch of naturalness which she could impart to +the most strained situations. Such embarrassment as was shown was +on Mrs. Trenor’s side, and manifested itself in the mingling of +exaggerated warmth with imperceptible reservations. Her loudly +affirmed pleasure at seeing Miss Bart took the form of a nebulous +generalization, which included neither enquiries as to her future +nor the expression of a definite wish to see her again. Lily, +well-versed in the language of these omissions, knew that they +were equally intelligible to the other members of the party: even +Rosedale, flushed as he was with the importance of keeping such +company, at once took the temperature of Mrs. Trenor’s cordiality, +and reflected it in his off-hand greeting of Miss Bart. Trenor, red +and uncomfortable, had cut short his salutations on the pretext of +a word to say to the head-waiter; and the rest of the group soon +melted away in Mrs. Trenor’s wake. + +It was over in a moment—the waiter, MENU in hand, still hung on +the result of the choice between COUPE JACQUES and PECHES A LA +MELBA—but Miss Bart, in the interval, had taken the measure of her +fate. Where Judy Trenor led, all the world would follow; and Lily +had the doomed sense of the castaway who has signalled in vain to +fleeing sails. + +In a flash she remembered Mrs. Trenor’s complaints of Carry +Fisher’s rapacity, and saw that they denoted an unexpected +acquaintance with her husband’s private affairs. In the large +tumultuous disorder of the life at Bellomont, where no one seemed +to have time to observe any one else, and private aims and personal +interests were swept along unheeded in the rush of collective +activities, Lily had fancied herself sheltered from inconvenient +scrutiny; but if Judy knew when Mrs. Fisher borrowed money of +her husband, was she likely to ignore the same transaction on +Lily’s part? If she was careless of his affections she was plainly +jealous of his pocket; and in that fact Lily read the explanation +of her rebuff. The immediate result of these conclusions was the +passionate resolve to pay back her debt to Trenor. That obligation +discharged, she would have but a thousand dollars of Mrs. +Peniston’s legacy left, and nothing to live on but her own small +income, which was considerably less than Gerty Farish’s wretched +pittance; but this consideration gave way to the imperative claim +of her wounded pride. She must be quits with the Trenors first; +after that she would take thought for the future. + +In her ignorance of legal procrastinations she had supposed that +her legacy would be paid over within a few days of the reading +of her aunt’s will; and after an interval of anxious suspense, +she wrote to enquire the cause of the delay. There was another +interval before Mrs. Peniston’s lawyer, who was also one of the +executors, replied to the effect that, some questions having arisen +relative to the interpretation of the will, he and his associates +might not be in a position to pay the legacies till the close of +the twelvemonth legally allotted for their settlement. Bewildered +and indignant, Lily resolved to try the effect of a personal +appeal; but she returned from her expedition with a sense of the +powerlessness of beauty and charm against the unfeeling processes +of the law. It seemed intolerable to live on for another year +under the weight of her debt; and in her extremity she decided to +turn to Miss Stepney, who still lingered in town, immersed in the +delectable duty of “going over” her benefactress’s effects. It +was bitter enough for Lily to ask a favour of Grace Stepney, but +the alternative was bitterer still; and one morning she presented +herself at Mrs. Peniston’s, where Grace, for the facilitation of +her pious task, had taken up a provisional abode. + +The strangeness of entering as a suppliant the house where she had +so long commanded, increased Lily’s desire to shorten the ordeal; +and when Miss Stepney entered the darkened drawing-room, rustling +with the best quality of crape, her visitor went straight to the +point: would she be willing to advance the amount of the expected +legacy? + +Grace, in reply, wept and wondered at the request, bemoaned the +inexorableness of the law, and was astonished that Lily had not +realized the exact similarity of their positions. Did she think +that only the payment of the legacies had been delayed? Why, Miss +Stepney herself had not received a penny of her inheritance, and +was paying rent—yes, actually!—for the privilege of living in a +house that belonged to her. She was sure it was not what poor dear +cousin Julia would have wished—she had told the executors so to +their faces; but they were inaccessible to reason, and there was +nothing to do but to wait. Let Lily take example by her, and be +patient—let them both remember how beautifully patient cousin Julia +had always been. + +Lily made a movement which showed her imperfect assimilation of +this example. “But you will have everything, Grace—it would be easy +for you to borrow ten times the amount I am asking for.” + +“Borrow—easy for me to borrow?” Grace Stepney rose up before her +in sable wrath. “Do you imagine for a moment that I would raise +money on my expectations from cousin Julia, when I know so well her +unspeakable horror of every transaction of the sort? Why, Lily, if +you must know the truth, it was the idea of your being in debt that +brought on her illness—you remember she had a slight attack before +you sailed. Oh, I don’t know the particulars, of course—I don’t +WANT to know them—but there were rumours about your affairs that +made her most unhappy—no one could be with her without seeing that. +I can’t help it if you are offended by my telling you this now—if I +can do anything to make you realize the folly of your course, and +how deeply SHE disapproved of it, I shall feel it is the truest way +of making up to you for her loss.” + + + + +Chapter 5 + + +It seemed to Lily, as Mrs. Peniston’s door closed on her, that she +was taking a final leave of her old life. The future stretched +before her dull and bare as the deserted length of Fifth Avenue, +and opportunities showed as meagrely as the few cabs trailing in +quest of fares that did not come. The completeness of the analogy +was, however, disturbed as she reached the sidewalk by the rapid +approach of a hansom which pulled up at sight of her. + +From beneath its luggage-laden top, she caught the wave of a +signalling hand; and the next moment Mrs. Fisher, springing to the +street, had folded her in a demonstrative embrace. + +“My dear, you don’t mean to say you’re still in town? When I saw +you the other day at Sherry’s I didn’t have time to ask——” She +broke off, and added with a burst of frankness: “The truth is I was +HORRID, Lily, and I’ve wanted to tell you so ever since.” + +“Oh——” Miss Bart protested, drawing back from her penitent clasp; +but Mrs. Fisher went on with her usual directness: “Look here, +Lily, don’t let’s beat about the bush: half the trouble in life is +caused by pretending there isn’t any. That’s not my way, and I can +only say I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself for following the other +women’s lead. But we’ll talk of that by and bye—tell me now where +you’re staying and what your plans are. I don’t suppose you’re +keeping house in there with Grace Stepney, eh?—and it struck me you +might be rather at loose ends.” + +In Lily’s present mood there was no resisting the honest +friendliness of this appeal, and she said with a smile: “I am at +loose ends for the moment, but Gerty Farish is still in town, and +she’s good enough to let me be with her whenever she can spare the +time.” + +Mrs. Fisher made a slight grimace. “H’m—that’s a temperate joy. Oh, +I know—Gerty’s a trump, and worth all the rest of us put together; +but A LA LONGUE you’re used to a little higher seasoning, aren’t +you, dear? And besides, I suppose she’ll be off herself before +long—the first of August, you say? Well, look here, you can’t spend +your summer in town; we’ll talk of that later too. But meanwhile, +what do you say to putting a few things in a trunk and coming down +with me to the Sam Gormers’ tonight?” + +And as Lily stared at the breathless suddenness of the suggestion, +she continued with her easy laugh: “You don’t know them and they +don’t know you; but that don’t make a rap of difference. They’ve +taken the Van Alstyne place at Roslyn, and I’ve got CARTE BLANCHE +to bring my friends down there—the more the merrier. They do +things awfully well, and there’s to be rather a jolly party there +this week——” she broke off, checked by an undefinable change in +Miss Bart’s expression. “Oh, I don’t mean YOUR particular set, +you know: rather a different crowd, but very good fun. The fact +is, the Gormers have struck out on a line of their own: what they +want is to have a good time, and to have it in their own way. They +gave the other thing a few months’ trial, under my distinguished +auspices, and they were really doing extremely well—getting on a +good deal faster than the Brys, just because they didn’t care as +much—but suddenly they decided that the whole business bored them, +and that what they wanted was a crowd they could really feel at +home with. Rather original of them, don’t you think so? Mattie +Gormer HAS got aspirations still; women always have; but she’s +awfully easy-going, and Sam won’t be bothered, and they both like +to be the most important people in sight, so they’ve started a sort +of continuous performance of their own, a kind of social Coney +Island, where everybody is welcome who can make noise enough and +doesn’t put on airs. I think it’s awfully good fun myself—some +of the artistic set, you know, any pretty actress that’s going, +and so on. This week, for instance, they have Audrey Anstell, +who made such a hit last spring in ‘The Winning of Winny’; and +Paul Morpeth—he’s painting Mattie Gormer—and the Dick Bellingers, +and Kate Corby—well, every one you can think of who’s jolly and +makes a row. Now don’t stand there with your nose in the air, my +dear—it will be a good deal better than a broiling Sunday in town, +and you’ll find clever people as well as noisy ones—Morpeth, who +admires Mattie enormously, always brings one or two of his set.” + +Mrs. Fisher drew Lily toward the hansom with friendly authority. +“Jump in now, there’s a dear, and we’ll drive round to your hotel +and have your things packed, and then we’ll have tea, and the two +maids can meet us at the train.” + + * * * * * + +It was a good deal better than a broiling Sunday in town—of that +no doubt remained to Lily as, reclining in the shade of a leafy +verandah, she looked seaward across a stretch of greensward +picturesquely dotted with groups of ladies in lace raiment and men +in tennis flannels. The huge Van Alstyne house and its rambling +dependencies were packed to their fullest capacity with the +Gormers’ week-end guests, who now, in the radiance of the Sunday +forenoon, were dispersing themselves over the grounds in quest of +the various distractions the place afforded: distractions ranging +from tennis-courts to shooting-galleries, from bridge and whiskey +within doors to motors and steam-launches without. Lily had the +odd sense of having been caught up into the crowd as carelessly +as a passenger is gathered in by an express train. The blonde and +genial Mrs. Gormer might, indeed, have figured the conductor, +calmly assigning seats to the rush of travellers, while Carry +Fisher represented the porter pushing their bags into place, giving +them their numbers for the dining-car, and warning them when their +station was at hand. The train, meanwhile, had scarcely slackened +speed—life whizzed on with a deafening’ rattle and roar, in which +one traveller at least found a welcome refuge from the sound of +her own thoughts. The Gormer MILIEU represented a social out-skirt +which Lily had always fastidiously avoided; but it struck her, now +that she was in it, as only a flamboyant copy of her own world, +a caricature approximating the real thing as the “society play” +approaches the manners of the drawing-room. The people about her +were doing the same things as the Trenors, the Van Osburghs and +the Dorsets: the difference lay in a hundred shades of aspect and +manner, from the pattern of the men’s waistcoats to the inflexion +of the women’s voices. Everything was pitched in a higher key, +and there was more of each thing: more noise, more colour, more +champagne, more familiarity—but also greater good-nature, less +rivalry, and a fresher capacity for enjoyment. + +Miss Bart’s arrival had been welcomed with an uncritical +friendliness that first irritated her pride and then brought her +to a sharp sense of her own situation—of the place in life which, +for the moment, she must accept and make the best of. These people +knew her story—of that her first long talk with Carry Fisher had +left no doubt: she was publicly branded as the heroine of a “queer” +episode—but instead of shrinking from her as her own friends had +done, they received her without question into the easy promiscuity +of their lives. They swallowed her past as easily as they did Miss +Anstell’s, and with no apparent sense of any difference in the size +of the mouthful: all they asked was that she should—in her own way, +for they recognized a diversity of gifts—contribute as much to the +general amusement as that graceful actress, whose talents, when +off the stage, were of the most varied order. Lily felt at once +that any tendency to be “stuck-up,” to mark a sense of differences +and distinctions, would be fatal to her continuance in the Gormer +set. To be taken in on such terms—and into such a world!—was hard +enough to the lingering pride in her; but she realized, with a +pang of self-contempt, that to be excluded from it would, after +all, be harder still. For, almost at once, she had felt the +insidious charm of slipping back into a life where every material +difficulty was smoothed away. The sudden escape from a stifling +hotel in a dusty deserted city to the space and luxury of a great +country-house fanned by sea breezes, had produced a state of moral +lassitude agreeable enough after the nervous tension and physical +discomfort of the past weeks. For the moment she must yield to the +refreshment her senses craved—after that she would reconsider her +situation, and take counsel with her dignity. Her enjoyment of her +surroundings was, indeed, tinged by the unpleasant consideration +that she was accepting the hospitality and courting the approval +of people she had disdained under other conditions. But she was +growing less sensitive on such points: a hard glaze of indifference +was fast forming over her delicacies and susceptibilities, and each +concession to expediency hardened the surface a little more. + +On the Monday, when the party disbanded with uproarious adieux, +the return to town threw into stronger relief the charms of the +life she was leaving. The other guests were dispersing to take +up the same existence in a different setting: some at Newport, +some at Bar Harbour, some in the elaborate rusticity of an +Adirondack camp. Even Gerty Farish, who welcomed Lily’s return +with tender solicitude, would soon be preparing to join the aunt +with whom she spent her summers on Lake George: only Lily herself +remained without plan or purpose, stranded in a backwater of the +great current of pleasure. But Carry Fisher, who had insisted on +transporting her to her own house, where she herself was to perch +for a day or two on the way to the Brys’ camp, came to the rescue +with a new suggestion. + +“Look here, Lily—I’ll tell you what it is: I want you to take my +place with Mattie Gormer this summer. They’re taking a party out +to Alaska next month in their private car, and Mattie, who is the +laziest woman alive, wants me to go with them, and relieve her +of the bother of arranging things; but the Brys want me too—oh, +yes, we’ve made it up: didn’t I tell you?—and, to put it frankly, +though I like the Gormers best, there’s more profit for me in +the Brys. The fact is, they want to try Newport this summer, and +if I can make it a success for them they—well, they’ll make it a +success for me.” Mrs. Fisher clasped her hands enthusiastically. +“Do you know, Lily, the more I think of my idea the better I like +it—quite as much for you as for myself. The Gormers have both taken +a tremendous fancy to you, and the trip to Alaska is—well—the very +thing I should want for you just at present.” + +Miss Bart lifted her eyes with a keen glance. “To take me out of +my friends’ way, you mean?” she said quietly; and Mrs. Fisher +responded with a deprecating kiss: “To keep you out of their sight +till they realize how much they miss you.” + + * * * * * + +Miss Bart went with the Gormers to Alaska; and the expedition, if +it did not produce the effect anticipated by her friend, had at +least the negative advantage of removing her from the fiery centre +of criticism and discussion. Gerty Farish had opposed the plan with +all the energy of her somewhat inarticulate nature. She had even +offered to give up her visit to Lake George, and remain in town +with Miss Bart, if the latter would renounce her journey; but Lily +could disguise her real distaste for this plan under a sufficiently +valid reason. + +“You dear innocent, don’t you see,” she protested, “that Carry is +quite right, and that I must take up my usual life, and go about +among people as much as possible? If my old friends choose to +believe lies about me I shall have to make new ones, that’s all; +and you know beggars mustn’t be choosers. Not that I don’t like +Mattie Gormer—I DO like her: she’s kind and honest and unaffected; +and don’t you suppose I feel grateful to her for making me welcome +at a time when, as you’ve yourself seen, my own family have +unanimously washed their hands of me?” + +Gerty shook her head, mutely unconvinced. She felt not only that +Lily was cheapening herself by making use of an intimacy she would +never have cultivated from choice, but that, in drifting back now +to her former manner of life, she was forfeiting her last chance +of ever escaping from it. Gerty had but an obscure conception +of what Lily’s actual experience had been: but its consequences +had established a lasting hold on her pity since the memorable +night when she had offered up her own secret hope to her friend’s +extremity. To characters like Gerty’s such a sacrifice constitutes +a moral claim on the part of the person in whose behalf it has been +made. Having once helped Lily, she must continue to help her; and +helping her, must believe in her, because faith is the main-spring +of such natures. But even if Miss Bart, after her renewed taste +of the amenities of life, could have returned to the barrenness +of a New York August, mitigated only by poor Gerty’s presence, +her worldly wisdom would have counselled her against such an act +of abnegation. She knew that Carry Fisher was right: that an +opportune absence might be the first step toward rehabilitation, +and that, at any rate, to linger on in town out of season was a +fatal admission of defeat. From the Gormers’ tumultuous progress +across their native continent, she returned with an altered +view of her situation. The renewed habit of luxury—the daily +waking to an assured absence of care and presence of material +ease—gradually blunted her appreciation of these values, and left +her more conscious of the void they could not fill. Mattie Gormer’s +undiscriminating good-nature, and the slap-dash sociability of her +friends, who treated Lily precisely as they treated each other—all +these characteristic notes of difference began to wear upon her +endurance; and the more she saw to criticize in her companions, the +less justification she found for making use of them. The longing +to get back to her former surroundings hardened to a fixed idea; +but with the strengthening of her purpose came the inevitable +perception that, to attain it, she must exact fresh concessions +from her pride. These, for the moment, took the unpleasant form of +continuing to cling to her hosts after their return from Alaska. +Little as she was in the key of their MILIEU, her immense social +facility, her long habit of adapting herself to others without +suffering her own outline to be blurred, the skilled manipulation +of all the polished implements of her craft, had won for her an +important place in the Gormer group. If their resonant hilarity +could never be hers, she contributed a note of easy elegance more +valuable to Mattie Gormer than the louder passages of the band. +Sam Gormer and his special cronies stood indeed a little in awe of +her; but Mattie’s following, headed by Paul Morpeth, made her feel +that they prized her for the very qualities they most conspicuously +lacked. If Morpeth, whose social indolence was as great as his +artistic activity, had abandoned himself to the easy current of +the Gormer existence, where the minor exactions of politeness were +unknown or ignored, and a man could either break his engagements, +or keep them in a painting-jacket and slippers, he still preserved +his sense of differences, and his appreciation of graces he had no +time to cultivate. During the preparations for the Brys’ TABLEAUX +he had been immensely struck by Lily’s plastic possibilities—“not +the face: too self-controlled for expression; but the rest of +her—gad, what a model she’d make!”—and though his abhorrence of the +world in which he had seen her was too great for him to think of +seeking her there, he was fully alive to the privilege of having +her to look at and listen to while he lounged in Mattie Gormer’s +dishevelled drawing-room. + +Lily had thus formed, in the tumult of her surroundings, a little +nucleus of friendly relations which mitigated the crudeness of +her course in lingering with the Gormers after their return. Nor +was she without pale glimpses of her own world, especially since +the breaking up of the Newport season had set the social current +once more toward Long Island. Kate Corby, whose tastes made her +as promiscuous as Carry Fisher was rendered by her necessities, +occasionally descended on the Gormers, where, after a first +stare of surprise, she took Lily’s presence almost too much as a +matter of course. Mrs. Fisher, too, appearing frequently in the +neighbourhood, drove over to impart her experiences and give Lily +what she called the latest report from the weather-bureau; and the +latter, who had never directly invited her confidence, could yet +talk with her more freely than with Gerty Farish, in whose presence +it was impossible even to admit the existence of much that Mrs. +Fisher conveniently took for granted. + +Mrs. Fisher, moreover, had no embarrassing curiosity. She did not +wish to probe the inwardness of Lily’s situation, but simply to +view it from the outside, and draw her conclusions accordingly; and +these conclusions, at the end of a confidential talk, she summed up +to her friend in the succinct remark: “You must marry as soon as +you can.” + +Lily uttered a faint laugh—for once Mrs. Fisher lacked originality. +“Do you mean, like Gerty Farish, to recommend the unfailing panacea +of ‘a good man’s love’?” + +“No—I don’t think either of my candidates would answer to that +description,” said Mrs. Fisher after a pause of reflection. + +“Either? Are there actually two?” + +“Well, perhaps I ought to say one and a half—for the moment.” + +Miss Bart received this with increasing amusement. “Other things +being equal, I think I should prefer a half-husband: who is he?” + +“Don’t fly out at me till you hear my reasons—George Dorset.” + +“Oh——” Lily murmured reproachfully; but Mrs. Fisher pressed on +unrebuffed. “Well, why not? They had a few weeks’ honeymoon when +they first got back from Europe, but now things are going badly +with them again. Bertha has been behaving more than ever like +a madwoman, and George’s powers of credulity are very nearly +exhausted. They’re at their place here, you know, and I spent last +Sunday with them. It was a ghastly party—no one else but poor Neddy +Silverton, who looks like a galley-slave (they used to talk of my +making that poor boy unhappy!)—and after luncheon George carried me +off on a long walk, and told me the end would have to come soon.” + +Miss Bart made an incredulous gesture. “As far as that goes, the +end will never come—Bertha will always know how to get him back +when she wants him.” + +Mrs. Fisher continued to observe her tentatively. “Not if he has +any one else to turn to! Yes—that’s just what it comes to: the poor +creature can’t stand alone. And I remember him such a good fellow, +full of life and enthusiasm.” She paused, and went on, dropping her +glance from Lily’s: “He wouldn’t stay with her ten minutes if he +KNEW——” + +“Knew——?” Miss Bart repeated. + +“What YOU must, for instance—with the opportunities you’ve had! If +he had positive proof, I mean——” + +Lily interrupted her with a deep blush of displeasure. “Please let +us drop the subject, Carry: it’s too odious to me.” And to divert +her companion’s attention she added, with an attempt at lightness: +“And your second candidate? We must not forget him.” + +Mrs. Fisher echoed her laugh. “I wonder if you’ll cry out just as +loud if I say—Sim Rosedale?” + +Miss Bart did not cry out: she sat silent, gazing thoughtfully +at her friend. The suggestion, in truth, gave expression to a +possibility which, in the last weeks, had more than once recurred +to her; but after a moment she said carelessly: “Mr. Rosedale wants +a wife who can establish him in the bosom of the Van Osburghs and +Trenors.” + +Mrs. Fisher caught her up eagerly. “And so YOU could—with his +money! Don’t you see how beautifully it would work out for you +both?” + +“I don’t see any way of making him see it,” Lily returned, with a +laugh intended to dismiss the subject. + +But in reality it lingered with her long after Mrs. Fisher had +taken leave. She had seen very little of Rosedale since her +annexation by the Gormers, for he was still steadily bent on +penetrating to the inner Paradise from which she was now excluded; +but once or twice, when nothing better offered, he had turned up +for a Sunday, and on these occasions he had left her in no doubt +as to his view of her situation. That he still admired her was, +more than ever, offensively evident; for in the Gormer circle, +where he expanded as in his native element, there were no puzzling +conventions to check the full expression of his approval. But it +was in the quality of his admiration that she read his shrewd +estimate of her case. He enjoyed letting the Gormers see that he +had known “Miss Lily”—she was “Miss Lily” to him now—before they +had had the faintest social existence: enjoyed more especially +impressing Paul Morpeth with the distance to which their intimacy +dated back. But he let it be felt that that intimacy was a +mere ripple on the surface of a rushing social current, the +kind of relaxation which a man of large interests and manifold +preoccupations permits himself in his hours of ease. + +The necessity of accepting this view of their past relation, and +of meeting it in the key of pleasantry prevalent among her new +friends, was deeply humiliating to Lily. But she dared less than +ever to quarrel with Rosedale. She suspected that her rejection +rankled among the most unforgettable of his rebuffs, and the fact +that he knew something of her wretched transaction with Trenor, +and was sure to put the basest construction on it, seemed to place +her hopelessly in his power. Yet at Carry Fisher’s suggestion a +new hope had stirred in her. Much as she disliked Rosedale, she +no longer absolutely despised him. For he was gradually attaining +his object in life, and that, to Lily, was always less despicable +than to miss it. With the slow unalterable persistency which she +had always felt in him, he was making his way through the dense +mass of social antagonisms. Already his wealth, and the masterly +use he had made of it, were giving him an enviable prominence in +the world of affairs, and placing Wall Street under obligations +which only Fifth Avenue could repay. In response to these claims, +his name began to figure on municipal committees and charitable +boards; he appeared at banquets to distinguished strangers, and +his candidacy at one of the fashionable clubs was discussed with +diminishing opposition. He had figured once or twice at the Trenor +dinners, and had learned to speak with just the right note of +disdain of the big Van Osburgh crushes; and all he now needed was a +wife whose affiliations would shorten the last tedious steps of his +ascent. It was with that object that, a year earlier, he had fixed +his affections on Miss Bart; but in the interval he had mounted +nearer to the goal, while she had lost the power to abbreviate the +remaining steps of the way. All this she saw with the clearness of +vision that came to her in moments of despondency. It was success +that dazzled her—she could distinguish facts plainly enough in the +twilight of failure. And the twilight, as she now sought to pierce +it, was gradually lighted by a faint spark of reassurance. Under +the utilitarian motive of Rosedale’s wooing she had felt, clearly +enough, the heat of personal inclination. She would not have +detested him so heartily had she not known that he dared to admire +her. What, then, if the passion persisted, though the other motive +had ceased to sustain it? She had never even tried to please him—he +had been drawn to her in spite of her manifest disdain. What if she +now chose to exert the power which, even in its passive state, he +had felt so strongly? What if she made him marry her for love, now +that he had no other reason for marrying her? + + + + +Chapter 6 + + +As became persons of their rising consequence, the Gormers were +engaged in building a country-house on Long Island; and it was a +part of Miss Bart’s duty to attend her hostess on frequent visits +of inspection to the new estate. There, while Mrs. Gormer plunged +into problems of lighting and sanitation, Lily had leisure to +wander, in the bright autumn air, along the tree-fringed bay to +which the land declined. Little as she was addicted to solitude, +there had come to be moments when it seemed a welcome escape +from the empty noises of her life. She was weary of being swept +passively along a current of pleasure and business in which she +had no share; weary of seeing other people pursue amusement and +squander money, while she felt herself of no more account among +them than an expensive toy in the hands of a spoiled child. + +It was in this frame of mind that, striking back from the shore +one morning into the windings of an unfamiliar lane, she came +suddenly upon the figure of George Dorset. The Dorset place was in +the immediate neighbourhood of the Gormers’ newly-acquired estate, +and in her motor-flights thither with Mrs. Gormer, Lily had caught +one or two passing glimpses of the couple; but they moved in so +different an orbit that she had not considered the possibility of a +direct encounter. + +Dorset, swinging along with bent head, in moody abstraction, did +not see Miss Bart till he was close upon her; but the sight, +instead of bringing him to a halt, as she had half-expected, sent +him toward her with an eagerness which found expression in his +opening words. + +“Miss Bart!—You’ll shake hands, won’t you? I’ve been hoping to meet +you—I should have written to you if I’d dared.” His face, with its +tossed red hair and straggling moustache, had a driven uneasy look, +as though life had become an unceasing race between himself and the +thoughts at his heels. + +The look drew a word of compassionate greeting from Lily, and he +pressed on, as if encouraged by her tone: “I wanted to apologize—to +ask you to forgive me for the miserable part I played——” + +She checked him with a quick gesture. “Don’t let us speak of it: I +was very sorry for you,” she said, with a tinge of disdain which, +as she instantly perceived, was not lost on him. + +He flushed to his haggard eyes, flushed so cruelly that she +repented the thrust. “You might well be; you don’t know—you must +let me explain. I was deceived: abominably deceived——” + +“I am still more sorry for you, then,” she interposed, without +irony; “but you must see that I am not exactly the person with whom +the subject can be discussed.” + +He met this with a look of genuine wonder. “Why not? Isn’t it to +you, of all people, that I owe an explanation——” + +“No explanation is necessary: the situation was perfectly clear to +me.” + +“Ah——” he murmured, his head drooping again, and his irresolute +hand switching at the underbrush along the lane. But as Lily made a +movement to pass on, he broke out with fresh vehemence: “Miss Bart, +for God’s sake don’t turn from me! We used to be good friends—you +were always kind to me—and you don’t know how I need a friend now.” + +The lamentable weakness of the words roused a motion of pity in +Lily’s breast. She too needed friends—she had tasted the pang of +loneliness; and her resentment of Bertha Dorset’s cruelty softened +her heart to the poor wretch who was after all the chief of +Bertha’s victims. + +“I still wish to be kind; I feel no ill-will toward you,” she said. +“But you must understand that after what has happened we can’t be +friends again—we can’t see each other.” + +“Ah, you ARE kind—you’re merciful—you always were!” He fixed his +miserable gaze on her. “But why can’t we be friends—why not, when +I’ve repented in dust and ashes? Isn’t it hard that you should +condemn me to suffer for the falseness, the treachery of others? I +was punished enough at the time—is there to be no respite for me?” + +“I should have thought you had found complete respite in the +reconciliation which was effected at my expense,” Lily began, with +renewed impatience; but he broke in imploringly: “Don’t put it in +that way—when that’s been the worst of my punishment. My God! what +could I do—wasn’t I powerless? You were singled out as a sacrifice: +any word I might have said would have been turned against you——” + +“I have told you I don’t blame you; all I ask you to understand is +that, after the use Bertha chose to make of me—after all that her +behaviour has since implied—it’s impossible that you and I should +meet.” + +He continued to stand before her, in his dogged weakness. “Is +it—need it be? Mightn’t there be circumstances——?” he checked +himself, slashing at the wayside weeds in a wider radius. Then he +began again: “Miss Bart, listen—give me a minute. If we’re not to +meet again, at least let me have a hearing now. You say we can’t be +friends after—after what has happened. But can’t I at least appeal +to your pity? Can’t I move you if I ask you to think of me as a +prisoner—a prisoner you alone can set free?” + +Lily’s inward start betrayed itself in a quick blush: was it +possible that this was really the sense of Carry Fisher’s +adumbrations? + +“I can’t see how I can possibly be of any help to you,” she +murmured, drawing back a little from the mounting excitement of his +look. + +Her tone seemed to sober him, as it had so often done in his +stormiest moments. The stubborn lines of his face relaxed, and he +said, with an abrupt drop to docility: “You WOULD see, if you’d be +as merciful as you used to be: and heaven knows I’ve never needed +it more!” + +She paused a moment, moved in spite of herself by this reminder of +her influence over him. Her fibres had been softened by suffering, +and the sudden glimpse into his mocked and broken life disarmed her +contempt for his weakness. + +“I am very sorry for you—I would help you willingly; but you must +have other friends, other advisers.” + +“I never had a friend like you,” he answered simply. “And +besides—can’t you see?—you’re the only person”—his voice dropped to +a whisper—“the only person who knows.” + +Again she felt her colour change; again her heart rose in +precipitate throbs to meet what she felt was coming. He lifted his +eyes to her entreatingly. “You do see, don’t you? You understand? +I’m desperate—I’m at the end of my tether. I want to be free, and +you can free me. I know you can. You don’t want to keep me bound +fast in hell, do you? You can’t want to take such a vengeance as +that. You were always kind—your eyes are kind now. You say you’re +sorry for me. Well, it rests with you to show it; and heaven knows +there’s nothing to keep you back. You understand, of course—there +wouldn’t be a hint of publicity—not a sound or a syllable to +connect you with the thing. It would never come to that, you know: +all I need is to be able to say definitely: ‘I know this—and +this—and this’—and the fight would drop, and the way be cleared, +and the whole abominable business swept out of sight in a second.” + +He spoke pantingly, like a tired runner, with breaks of exhaustion +between his words; and through the breaks she caught, as through +the shifting rents of a fog, great golden vistas of peace and +safety. For there was no mistaking the definite intention behind +his vague appeal; she could have filled up the blanks without the +help of Mrs. Fisher’s insinuations. Here was a man who turned to +her in the extremity of his loneliness and his humiliation: if she +came to him at such a moment he would be hers with all the force of +his deluded faith. And the power to make him so lay in her hand—lay +there in a completeness he could not even remotely conjecture. +Revenge and rehabilitation might be hers at a stroke—there was +something dazzling in the completeness of the opportunity. + +She stood silent, gazing away from him down the autumnal stretch +of the deserted lane. And suddenly fear possessed her—fear of +herself, and of the terrible force of the temptation. All her past +weaknesses were like so many eager accomplices drawing her toward +the path their feet had already smoothed. She turned quickly, and +held out her hand to Dorset. + +“Goodbye—I’m sorry; there’s nothing in the world that I can do.” + +“Nothing? Ah, don’t say that,” he cried; “say what’s true: that you +abandon me like the others. You, the only creature who could have +saved me!” + +“Goodbye—goodbye,” she repeated hurriedly; and as she moved away +she heard him cry out on a last note of entreaty: “At least you’ll +let me see you once more?” + + * * * * * + +Lily, on regaining the Gormer grounds, struck rapidly across the +lawn toward the unfinished house, where she fancied that her +hostess might be speculating, not too resignedly, on the cause of +her delay; for, like many unpunctual persons, Mrs. Gormer disliked +to be kept waiting. + +As Miss Bart reached the avenue, however, she saw a smart phaeton +with a high-stepping pair disappear behind the shrubbery in the +direction of the gate; and on the doorstep stood Mrs. Gormer, with +a glow of retrospective pleasure on her open countenance. At sight +of Lily the glow deepened to an embarrassed red, and she said +with a slight laugh: “Did you see my visitor? Oh, I thought you +came back by the avenue. It was Mrs. George Dorset—she said she’d +dropped in to make a neighbourly call.” + +Lily met the announcement with her usual composure, though her +experience of Bertha’s idiosyncrasies would not have led her to +include the neighbourly instinct among them; and Mrs. Gormer, +relieved to see that she gave no sign of surprise, went on with +a deprecating laugh: “Of course what really brought her was +curiosity—she made me take her all over the house. But no one could +have been nicer—no airs, you know, and so good-natured: I can quite +see why people think her so fascinating.” + +This surprising event, coinciding too completely with her +meeting with Dorset to be regarded as contingent upon it, had +yet immediately struck Lily with a vague sense of foreboding. +It was not in Bertha’s habits to be neighbourly, much less to +make advances to any one outside the immediate circle of her +affinities. She had always consistently ignored the world of outer +aspirants, or had recognized its individual members only when +prompted by motives of self-interest; and the very capriciousness +of her condescensions had, as Lily was aware, given them special +value in the eyes of the persons she distinguished. Lily saw +this now in Mrs. Gormer’s unconcealable complacency, and in the +happy irrelevance with which, for the next day or two, she quoted +Bertha’s opinions and speculated on the origin of her gown. All +the secret ambitions which Mrs. Gormer’s native indolence, and the +attitude of her companions, kept in habitual abeyance, were now +germinating afresh in the glow of Bertha’s advances; and whatever +the cause of the latter, Lily saw that, if they were followed up, +they were likely to have a disturbing effect upon her own future. + +She had arranged to break the length of her stay with her new +friends by one or two visits to other acquaintances as recent; +and on her return from this somewhat depressing excursion she was +immediately conscious that Mrs. Dorset’s influence was still in +the air. There had been another exchange of visits, a tea at a +country-club, an encounter at a hunt ball; there was even a rumour +of an approaching dinner, which Mattie Gormer, with an unnatural +effort at discretion, tried to smuggle out of the conversation +whenever Miss Bart took part in it. + +The latter had already planned to return to town after a farewell +Sunday with her friends; and, with Gerty Farish’s aid, had +discovered a small private hotel where she might establish herself +for the winter. The hotel being on the edge of a fashionable +neighbourhood, the price of the few square feet she was to +occupy was considerably in excess of her means; but she found a +justification for her dislike of poorer quarters in the argument +that, at this particular juncture, it was of the utmost importance +to keep up a show of prosperity. In reality, it was impossible for +her, while she had the means to pay her way for a week ahead, to +lapse into a form of existence like Gerty Farish’s. She had never +been so near the brink of insolvency; but she could at least manage +to meet her weekly hotel bill, and having settled the heaviest of +her previous debts out of the money she had received from Trenor, +she had a still fair margin of credit to go upon. The situation, +however, was not agreeable enough to lull her to complete +unconsciousness of its insecurity. Her rooms, with their cramped +outlook down a sallow vista of brick walls and fire-escapes, her +lonely meals in the dark restaurant with its surcharged ceiling and +haunting smell of coffee—all these material discomforts, which were +yet to be accounted as so many privileges soon to be withdrawn, +kept constantly before her the disadvantages of her state; and her +mind reverted the more insistently to Mrs. Fisher’s counsels. Beat +about the question as she would, she knew the outcome of it was +that she must try to marry Rosedale; and in this conviction she was +fortified by an unexpected visit from George Dorset. + +She found him, on the first Sunday after her return to town, +pacing her narrow sitting-room to the imminent peril of the few +knick-knacks with which she had tried to disguise its plush +exuberances; but the sight of her seemed to quiet him, and he said +meekly that he hadn’t come to bother her—that he asked only to be +allowed to sit for half an hour and talk of anything she liked. +In reality, as she knew, he had but one subject: himself and his +wretchedness; and it was the need of her sympathy that had drawn +him back. But he began with a pretence of questioning her about +herself, and as she replied, she saw that, for the first time, +a faint realization of her plight penetrated the dense surface +of his self-absorption. Was it possible that her old beast of an +aunt had actually cut her off? That she was living alone like this +because there was no one else for her to go to, and that she really +hadn’t more than enough to keep alive on till the wretched little +legacy was paid? The fibres of sympathy were nearly atrophied in +him, but he was suffering so intensely that he had a faint glimpse +of what other sufferings might mean—and, as she perceived, an +almost simultaneous perception of the way in which her particular +misfortunes might serve him. + +When at length she dismissed him, on the pretext that she must +dress for dinner, he lingered entreatingly on the threshold to +blurt out: “It’s been such a comfort—do say you’ll let me see you +again—” But to this direct appeal it was impossible to give an +assent; and she said with friendly decisiveness: “I’m sorry—but you +know why I can’t.” + +He coloured to the eyes, pushed the door shut, and stood before her +embarrassed but insistent. “I know how you might, if you would—if +things were different—and it lies with you to make them so. It’s +just a word to say, and you put me out of my misery!” + +Their eyes met, and for a second she trembled again with the +nearness of the temptation. “You’re mistaken; I know nothing; I saw +nothing,” she exclaimed, striving, by sheer force of reiteration, +to build a barrier between herself and her peril; and as he turned +away, groaning out “You sacrifice us both,” she continued to +repeat, as if it were a charm: “I know nothing—absolutely nothing.” + + * * * * * + +Lily had seen little of Rosedale since her illuminating talk with +Mrs. Fisher, but on the two or three occasions when they had met +she was conscious of having distinctly advanced in his favour. +There could be no doubt that he admired her as much as ever, and +she believed it rested with herself to raise his admiration to +the point where it should bear down the lingering counsels of +expediency. The task was not an easy one; but neither was it easy, +in her long sleepless nights, to face the thought of what George +Dorset was so clearly ready to offer. Baseness for baseness, she +hated the other least: there were even moments when a marriage with +Rosedale seemed the only honourable solution of her difficulties. +She did not indeed let her imagination range beyond the day of +plighting: after that everything faded into a haze of material +well-being, in which the personality of her benefactor remained +mercifully vague. She had learned, in her long vigils, that there +were certain things not good to think of, certain midnight images +that must at any cost be exorcised—and one of these was the image +of herself as Rosedale’s wife. + +Carry Fisher, on the strength, as she frankly owned, of the +Brys’ Newport success, had taken for the autumn months a small +house at Tuxedo; and thither Lily was bound on the Sunday after +Dorset’s visit. Though it was nearly dinner-time when she arrived, +her hostess was still out, and the firelit quiet of the small +silent house descended on her spirit with a sense of peace and +familiarity. It may be doubted if such an emotion had ever before +been evoked by Carry Fisher’s surroundings; but, contrasted to +the world in which Lily had lately lived, there was an air of +repose and stability in the very placing of the furniture, and in +the quiet competence of the parlour-maid who led her up to her +room. Mrs. Fisher’s unconventionality was, after all, a merely +superficial divergence from an inherited social creed, while the +manners of the Gormer circle represented their first attempt to +formulate such a creed for themselves. + +It was the first time since her return from Europe that Lily had +found herself in a congenial atmosphere, and the stirring of +familiar associations had almost prepared her, as she descended +the stairs before dinner, to enter upon a group of her old +acquaintances. But this expectation was instantly checked by the +reflection that the friends who remained loyal were precisely those +who would be least willing to expose her to such encounters; and +it was hardly with surprise that she found, instead, Mr. Rosedale +kneeling domestically on the drawing-room hearth before his +hostess’s little girl. + +Rosedale in the paternal role was hardly a figure to soften Lily; +yet she could not but notice a quality of homely goodness in his +advances to the child. They were not, at any rate, the premeditated +and perfunctory endearments of the guest under his hostess’s +eye, for he and the little girl had the room to themselves; and +something in his attitude made him seem a simple and kindly being +compared to the small critical creature who endured his homage. +Yes, he would be kind—Lily, from the threshold, had time to +feel—kind in his gross, unscrupulous, rapacious way, the way of the +predatory creature with his mate. She had but a moment in which +to consider whether this glimpse of the fireside man mitigated +her repugnance, or gave it, rather, a more concrete and intimate +form; for at sight of her he was immediately on his feet again, the +florid and dominant Rosedale of Mattie Gormer’s drawing-room. + +It was no surprise to Lily to find that he had been selected as her +only fellow-guest. Though she and her hostess had not met since +the latter’s tentative discussion of her future, Lily knew that +the acuteness which enabled Mrs. Fisher to lay a safe and pleasant +course through a world of antagonistic forces was not infrequently +exercised for the benefit of her friends. It was, in fact, +characteristic of Carry that, while she actively gleaned her own +stores from the fields of affluence, her real sympathies were on +the other side—with the unlucky, the unpopular, the unsuccessful, +with all her hungry fellow-toilers in the shorn stubble of success. + +Mrs. Fisher’s experience guarded her against the mistake of +exposing Lily, for the first evening, to the unmitigated impression +of Rosedale’s personality. Kate Corby and two or three men dropped +in to dinner, and Lily, alive to every detail of her friend’s +method, saw that such opportunities as had been contrived for her +were to be deferred till she had, as it were, gained courage to +make effectual use of them. She had a sense of acquiescing in this +plan with the passiveness of a sufferer resigned to the surgeon’s +touch; and this feeling of almost lethargic helplessness continued +when, after the departure of the guests, Mrs. Fisher followed her +upstairs. + +“May I come in and smoke a cigarette over your fire? If we talk in +my room we shall disturb the child.” Mrs. Fisher looked about her +with the eye of the solicitous hostess. “I hope you’ve managed to +make yourself comfortable, dear? Isn’t it a jolly little house? +It’s such a blessing to have a few quiet weeks with the baby.” + +Carry, in her rare moments of prosperity, became so expansively +maternal that Miss Bart sometimes wondered whether, if she could +ever get time and money enough, she would not end by devoting them +both to her daughter. + +“It’s a well-earned rest: I’ll say that for myself,” she continued, +sinking down with a sigh of content on the pillowed lounge near +the fire. “Louisa Bry is a stern task-master: I often used to +wish myself back with the Gormers. Talk of love making people +jealous and suspicious—it’s nothing to social ambition! Louisa +used to lie awake at night wondering whether the women who called +on us called on ME because I was with her, or on HER because she +was with me; and she was always laying traps to find out what +I thought. Of course I had to disown my oldest friends, rather +than let her suspect she owed me the chance of making a single +acquaintance—when, all the while, that was what she had me there +for, and what she wrote me a handsome cheque for when the season +was over!” + +Mrs. Fisher was not a woman who talked of herself without cause, +and the practice of direct speech, far from precluding in her an +occasional resort to circuitous methods, served rather, at crucial +moments, the purpose of the juggler’s chatter while he shifts the +contents of his sleeves. Through the haze of her cigarette-smoke +she continued to gaze meditatively at Miss Bart, who, having +dismissed her maid, sat before the toilet table shaking out over +her shoulders the loosened undulations of her hair. + +“Your hair’s wonderful, Lily. Thinner—? What does that matter, +when it’s so light and alive? So many women’s worries seem to go +straight to their hair—but yours looks as if there had never been +an anxious thought under it. I never saw you look better than you +did this evening. Mattie Gormer told me that Morpeth wanted to +paint you—why don’t you let him?” + +Miss Bart’s immediate answer was to address a critical glance +to the reflection of the countenance under discussion. Then she +said, with a slight touch of irritation: “I don’t care to accept a +portrait from Paul Morpeth.” + +Mrs. Fisher mused. “N—no. And just now, especially—well, he can do +you after you’re married.” She waited a moment, and then went on: +“By the way, I had a visit from Mattie the other day. She turned +up here last Sunday—and with Bertha Dorset, of all people in the +world!” + +She paused again to measure the effect of this announcement on her +hearer, but the brush in Miss Bart’s lifted hand maintained its +unwavering stroke from brow to nape. + +“I never was more astonished,” Mrs. Fisher pursued. “I don’t know +two women less predestined to intimacy—from Bertha’s standpoint, +that is; for of course poor Mattie thinks it natural enough that +she should be singled out—I’ve no doubt the rabbit always thinks +it is fascinating the anaconda. Well, you know I’ve always told +you that Mattie secretly longed to bore herself with the really +fashionable; and now that the chance has come, I see that she’s +capable of sacrificing all her old friends to it.” + +Lily laid aside her brush and turned a penetrating glance upon her +friend. “Including ME?” she suggested. + +“Ah, my dear,” murmured Mrs. Fisher, rising to push back a log from +the hearth. + +“That’s what Bertha means, isn’t it?” Miss Bart went on steadily. +“For of course she always means something; and before I left Long +Island I saw that she was beginning to lay her toils for Mattie.” + +Mrs. Fisher sighed evasively. “She has her fast now, at any rate. +To think of that loud independence of Mattie’s being only a +subtler form of snobbishness! Bertha can already make her believe +anything she pleases—and I’m afraid she’s begun, my poor child, by +insinuating horrors about you.” + +Lily flushed under the shadow of her drooping hair. “The world +is too vile,” she murmured, averting herself from Mrs. Fisher’s +anxious scrutiny. + +“It’s not a pretty place; and the only way to keep a footing in it +is to fight it on its own terms—and above all, my dear, not alone!” +Mrs. Fisher gathered up her floating implications in a resolute +grasp. “You’ve told me so little that I can only guess what has +been happening; but in the rush we all live in there’s no time to +keep on hating any one without a cause, and if Bertha is still +nasty enough to want to injure you with other people it must be +because she’s still afraid of you. From her standpoint there’s only +one reason for being afraid of you; and my own idea is that, if you +want to punish her, you hold the means in your hand. I believe you +can marry George Dorset tomorrow; but if you don’t care for that +particular form of retaliation, the only thing to save you from +Bertha is to marry somebody else.” + + + + +Chapter 7 + + +The light projected on the situation by Mrs. Fisher had the +cheerless distinctness of a winter dawn. It outlined the facts with +a cold precision unmodified by shade or colour, and refracted, as +it were, from the blank walls of the surrounding limitations: she +had opened windows from which no sky was ever visible. But the +idealist subdued to vulgar necessities must employ vulgar minds to +draw the inferences to which he cannot stoop; and it was easier for +Lily to let Mrs. Fisher formulate her case than to put it plainly +to herself. Once confronted with it, however, she went the full +length of its consequences; and these had never been more clearly +present to her than when, the next afternoon, she set out for a +walk with Rosedale. + +It was one of those still November days when the air is haunted +with the light of summer, and something in the lines of the +landscape, and in the golden haze which bathed them, recalled to +Miss Bart the September afternoon when she had climbed the slopes +of Bellomont with Selden. The importunate memory was kept before +her by its ironic contrast to her present situation, since her walk +with Selden had represented an irresistible flight from just such +a climax as the present excursion was designed to bring about. But +other memories importuned her also; the recollection of similar +situations, as skillfully led up to, but through some malice of +fortune, or her own unsteadiness of purpose, always failing of +the intended result. Well, her purpose was steady enough now. She +saw that the whole weary work of rehabilitation must begin again, +and against far greater odds, if Bertha Dorset should succeed in +breaking up her friendship with the Gormers; and her longing for +shelter and security was intensified by the passionate desire to +triumph over Bertha, as only wealth and predominance could triumph +over her. As the wife of Rosedale—the Rosedale she felt it in her +power to create—she would at least present an invulnerable front to +her enemy. + +She had to draw upon this thought, as upon some fiery stimulant, to +keep up her part in the scene toward which Rosedale was too frankly +tending. As she walked beside him, shrinking in every nerve from +the way in which his look and tone made free of her, yet telling +herself that this momentary endurance of his mood was the price she +must pay for her ultimate power over him, she tried to calculate +the exact point at which concession must turn to resistance, and +the price HE would have to pay be made equally clear to him. But +his dapper self-confidence seemed impenetrable to such hints, and +she had a sense of something hard and self-contained behind the +superficial warmth of his manner. + +They had been seated for some time in the seclusion of a rocky glen +above the lake, when she suddenly cut short the culmination of an +impassioned period by turning upon him the grave loveliness of her +gaze. + +“I DO believe what you say, Mr. Rosedale,” she said quietly; “and I +am ready to marry you whenever you wish.” + +Rosedale, reddening to the roots of his glossy hair, received this +announcement with a recoil which carried him to his feet, where he +halted before her in an attitude of almost comic discomfiture. + +“For I suppose that is what you do wish,” she continued, in the +same quiet tone. “And, though I was unable to consent when you +spoke to me in this way before, I am ready, now that I know you so +much better, to trust my happiness to your hands.” + +She spoke with the noble directness which she could command on +such occasions, and which was like a large steady light thrown +across the tortuous darkness of the situation. In its inconvenient +brightness Rosedale seemed to waver a moment, as though conscious +that every avenue of escape was unpleasantly illuminated. + +Then he gave a short laugh, and drew out a gold cigarette-case, in +which, with plump jewelled fingers, he groped for a gold-tipped +cigarette. Selecting one, he paused to contemplate it a moment +before saying: “My dear Miss Lily, I’m sorry if there’s been any +little misapprehension between us—but you made me feel my suit was +so hopeless that I had really no intention of renewing it.” + +Lily’s blood tingled with the grossness of the rebuff; but she +checked the first leap of her anger, and said in a tone of gentle +dignity: “I have no one but myself to blame if I gave you the +impression that my decision was final.” + +Her word-play was always too quick for him, and this reply held him +in puzzled silence while she extended her hand and added, with the +faintest inflection of sadness in her voice: “Before we bid each +other goodbye, I want at least to thank you for having once thought +of me as you did.” + +The touch of her hand, the moving softness of her look, +thrilled a vulnerable fibre in Rosedale. It was her exquisite +inaccessibleness, the sense of distance she could convey without a +hint of disdain, that made it most difficult for him to give her up. + +“Why do you talk of saying goodbye? Ain’t we going to be good +friends all the same?” he urged, without releasing her hand. + +She drew it away quietly. “What is your idea of being good +friends?” she returned with a slight smile. “Making love to me +without asking me to marry you?” Rosedale laughed with a recovered +sense of ease. + +“Well, that’s about the size of it, I suppose. I can’t help making +love to you—I don’t see how any man could; but I don’t mean to ask +you to marry me as long as I can keep out of it.” + +She continued to smile. “I like your frankness; but I am afraid our +friendship can hardly continue on those terms.” She turned away, as +though to mark that its final term had in fact been reached, and +he followed her for a few steps with a baffled sense of her having +after all kept the game in her own hands. + +“Miss Lily——” he began impulsively; but she walked on without +seeming to hear him. + +He overtook her in a few quick strides, and laid an entreating hand +on her arm. “Miss Lily—don’t hurry away like that. You’re beastly +hard on a fellow; but if you don’t mind speaking the truth I don’t +see why you shouldn’t allow me to do the same.” + +She had paused a moment with raised brows, drawing away +instinctively from his touch, though she made no effort to evade +his words. + +“I was under the impression,” she rejoined, “that you had done so +without waiting for my permission.” + +“Well—why shouldn’t you hear my reasons for doing it, then? We’re +neither of us such new hands that a little plain speaking is going +to hurt us. I’m all broken up on you: there’s nothing new in that. +I’m more in love with you than I was this time last year; but I’ve +got to face the fact that the situation is changed.” + +She continued to confront him with the same air of ironic +composure. “You mean to say that I’m not as desirable a match as +you thought me?” + +“Yes; that’s what I do mean,” he answered resolutely. “I won’t go +into what’s happened. I don’t believe the stories about you—I don’t +WANT to believe them. But they’re there, and my not believing them +ain’t going to alter the situation.” + +She flushed to her temples, but the extremity of her need checked +the retort on her lip and she continued to face him composedly. “If +they are not true,” she said, “doesn’t THAT alter the situation?” + +He met this with a steady gaze of his small stock-taking eyes, +which made her feel herself no more than some superfine human +merchandise. “I believe it does in novels; but I’m certain it don’t +in real life. You know that as well as I do: if we’re speaking the +truth, let’s speak the whole truth. Last year I was wild to marry +you, and you wouldn’t look at me: this year—well, you appear to be +willing. Now, what has changed in the interval? Your situation, +that’s all. Then you thought you could do better; now——” + +“You think you can?” broke from her ironically. + +“Why, yes, I do: in one way, that is.” He stood before her, his +hands in his pockets, his chest sturdily expanded under its vivid +waistcoat. “It’s this way, you see: I’ve had a pretty steady grind +of it these last years, working up my social position. Think it’s +funny I should say that? Why should I mind saying I want to get +into society? A man ain’t ashamed to say he wants to own a racing +stable or a picture gallery. Well, a taste for society’s just +another kind of hobby. Perhaps I want to get even with some of +the people who cold-shouldered me last year—put it that way if it +sounds better. Anyhow, I want to have the run of the best houses; +and I’m getting it too, little by little. But I know the quickest +way to queer yourself with the right people is to be seen with the +wrong ones; and that’s the reason I want to avoid mistakes.” + +Miss Bart continued to stand before him in a silence that might +have expressed either mockery or a half-reluctant respect for his +candour, and after a moment’s pause he went on: “There it is, you +see. I’m more in love with you than ever, but if I married you now +I’d queer myself for good and all, and everything I’ve worked for +all these years would be wasted.” + +She received this with a look from which all tinge of resentment +had faded. After the tissue of social falsehoods in which she had +so long moved it was refreshing to step into the open daylight of +an avowed expediency. + +“I understand you,” she said. “A year ago I should have been of +use to you, and now I should be an encumbrance; and I like you for +telling me so quite honestly.” She extended her hand with a smile. + +Again the gesture had a disturbing effect upon Mr. Rosedale’s +self-command. “By George, you’re a dead game sport, you are!” he +exclaimed; and as she began once more to move away, he broke out +suddenly—“Miss Lily—stop. You know I don’t believe those stories—I +believe they were all got up by a woman who didn’t hesitate to +sacrifice you to her own convenience——” + +Lily drew away with a movement of quick disdain: it was easier to +endure his insolence than his commiseration. + +“You are very kind; but I don’t think we need discuss the matter +farther.” + +But Rosedale’s natural imperviousness to hints made it easy for him +to brush such resistance aside. “I don’t want to discuss anything; +I just want to put a plain case before you,” he persisted. + +She paused in spite of herself, held by the note of a new purpose +in his look and tone; and he went on, keeping his eyes firmly +upon her: “The wonder to me is that you’ve waited so long to get +square with that woman, when you’ve had the power in your hands.” +She continued silent under the rush of astonishment that his +words produced, and he moved a step closer to ask with low-toned +directness: “Why don’t you use those letters of hers you bought +last year?” + +Lily stood speechless under the shock of the interrogation. In the +words preceding it she had conjectured, at most, an allusion to +her supposed influence over George Dorset; nor did the astonishing +indelicacy of the reference diminish the likelihood of Rosedale’s +resorting to it. But now she saw how far short of the mark she had +fallen; and the surprise of learning that he had discovered the +secret of the letters left her, for the moment, unconscious of the +special use to which he was in the act of putting his knowledge. + +Her temporary loss of self-possession gave him time to press his +point; and he went on quickly, as though to secure completer +control of the situation: “You see I know where you stand—I know +how completely she’s in your power. That sounds like stage-talk, +don’t it?—but there’s a lot of truth in some of those old gags; +and I don’t suppose you bought those letters simply because you’re +collecting autographs.” + +She continued to look at him with a deepening bewilderment: her +only clear impression resolved itself into a scared sense of his +power. + +“You’re wondering how I found out about ’em?” he went on, answering +her look with a note of conscious pride. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten +that I’m the owner of the Benedick—but never mind about that now. +Getting on to things is a mighty useful accomplishment in business, +and I’ve simply extended it to my private affairs. For this IS +partly my affair, you see—at least, it depends on you to make it +so. Let’s look the situation straight in the eye. Mrs. Dorset, for +reasons we needn’t go into, did you a beastly bad turn last spring. +Everybody knows what Mrs. Dorset is, and her best friends wouldn’t +believe her on oath where their own interests were concerned; but +as long as they’re out of the row it’s much easier to follow her +lead than to set themselves against it, and you’ve simply been +sacrificed to their laziness and selfishness. Isn’t that a pretty +fair statement of the case?—Well, some people say you’ve got the +neatest kind of an answer in your hands: that George Dorset would +marry you tomorrow, if you’d tell him all you know, and give him +the chance to show the lady the door. I daresay he would; but you +don’t seem to care for that particular form of getting even, and, +taking a purely business view of the question, I think you’re +right. In a deal like that, nobody comes out with perfectly clean +hands, and the only way for you to start fresh is to get Bertha +Dorset to back you up, instead of trying to fight her.” + +He paused long enough to draw breath, but not to give her time +for the expression of her gathering resistance; and as he pressed +on, expounding and elucidating his idea with the directness of +the man who has no doubts of his cause, she found the indignation +gradually freezing on her lip, found herself held fast in the grasp +of his argument by the mere cold strength of its presentation. +There was no time now to wonder how he had heard of her obtaining +the letters: all her world was dark outside the monstrous glare +of his scheme for using them. And it was not, after the first +moment, the horror of the idea that held her spell-bound, subdued +to his will; it was rather its subtle affinity to her own inmost +cravings. He would marry her tomorrow if she could regain Bertha +Dorset’s friendship; and to induce the open resumption of that +friendship, and the tacit retractation of all that had caused its +withdrawal, she had only to put to the lady the latent menace +contained in the packet so miraculously delivered into her hands. +Lily saw in a flash the advantage of this course over that which +poor Dorset had pressed upon her. The other plan depended for its +success on the infliction of an open injury, while this reduced +the transaction to a private understanding, of which no third +person need have the remotest hint. Put by Rosedale in terms of +businesslike give-and-take, this understanding took on the harmless +air of a mutual accommodation, like a transfer of property or a +revision of boundary lines. It certainly simplified life to view it +as a perpetual adjustment, a play of party politics, in which every +concession had its recognized equivalent: Lily’s tired mind was +fascinated by this escape from fluctuating ethical estimates into a +region of concrete weights and measures. + +Rosedale, as she listened, seemed to read in her silence not only +a gradual acquiescence in his plan, but a dangerously far-reaching +perception of the chances it offered; for as she continued to stand +before him without speaking, he broke out, with a quick return +upon himself: “You see how simple it is, don’t you? Well, don’t be +carried away by the idea that it’s TOO simple. It isn’t exactly +as if you’d started in with a clean bill of health. Now we’re +talking let’s call things by their right names, and clear the whole +business up. You know well enough that Bertha Dorset couldn’t have +touched you if there hadn’t been—well—questions asked before—little +points of interrogation, eh? Bound to happen to a good-looking girl +with stingy relatives, I suppose; anyhow, they DID happen, and she +found the ground prepared for her. Do you see where I’m coming out? +You don’t want these little questions cropping up again. It’s one +thing to get Bertha Dorset into line—but what you want is to keep +her there. You can frighten her fast enough—but how are you going +to keep her frightened? By showing her that you’re as powerful as +she is. All the letters in the world won’t do that for you as you +are now; but with a big backing behind you, you’ll keep her just +where you want her to be. That’s MY share in the business—that’s +what I’m offering you. You can’t put the thing through without +me—don’t run away with any idea that you can. In six months you’d +be back again among your old worries, or worse ones; and here I am, +ready to lift you out of ’em tomorrow if you say so. DO you say so, +Miss Lily?” he added, moving suddenly nearer. + +The words, and the movement which accompanied them, combined to +startle Lily out of the state of tranced subservience into which +she had insensibly slipped. Light comes in devious ways to the +groping consciousness, and it came to her now through the disgusted +perception that her would-be accomplice assumed, as a matter of +course, the likelihood of her distrusting him and perhaps trying +to cheat him of his share of the spoils. This glimpse of his inner +mind seemed to present the whole transaction in a new aspect, and +she saw that the essential baseness of the act lay in its freedom +from risk. + +She drew back with a quick gesture of rejection, saying, in a +voice that was a surprise to her own ears: “You are mistaken—quite +mistaken—both in the facts and in what you infer from them.” + +Rosedale stared a moment, puzzled by her sudden dash in a direction +so different from that toward which she had appeared to be letting +him guide her. + +“Now what on earth does that mean? I thought we understood each +other!” he exclaimed; and to her murmur of “Ah, we do NOW,” he +retorted with a sudden burst of violence: “I suppose it’s because +the letters are to HIM, then? Well, I’ll be damned if I see what +thanks you’ve got from him!” + + + + +Chapter 8 + + +The autumn days declined to winter. Once more the leisure world was +in transition between country and town, and Fifth Avenue, still +deserted at the week-end, showed from Monday to Friday a broadening +stream of carriages between house-fronts gradually restored to +consciousness. + +The Horse Show, some two weeks earlier, had produced a passing +semblance of reanimation, filling the theatres and restaurants +with a human display of the same costly and high-stepping kind as +circled daily about its ring. In Miss Bart’s world the Horse Show, +and the public it attracted, had ostensibly come to be classed +among the spectacles disdained of the elect; but, as the feudal +lord might sally forth to join in the dance on his village green, +so society, unofficially and incidentally, still condescended +to look in upon the scene. Mrs. Gormer, among the rest, was not +above seizing such an occasion for the display of herself and her +horses; and Lily was given one or two opportunities of appearing at +her friend’s side in the most conspicuous box the house afforded. +But this lingering semblance of intimacy made her only the more +conscious of a change in the relation between Mattie and herself, +of a dawning discrimination, a gradually formed social standard, +emerging from Mrs. Gormer’s chaotic view of life. It was inevitable +that Lily herself should constitute the first sacrifice to this +new ideal, and she knew that, once the Gormers were established in +town, the whole drift of fashionable life would facilitate Mattie’s +detachment from her. She had, in short, failed to make herself +indispensable; or rather, her attempt to do so had been thwarted by +an influence stronger than any she could exert. That influence, in +its last analysis, was simply the power of money: Bertha Dorset’s +social credit was based on an impregnable bank-account. + +Lily knew that Rosedale had overstated neither the difficulty +of her own position nor the completeness of the vindication he +offered: once Bertha’s match in material resources, her superior +gifts would make it easy for her to dominate her adversary. An +understanding of what such domination would mean, and of the +disadvantages accruing from her rejection of it, was brought home +to Lily with increasing clearness during the early weeks of the +winter. Hitherto, she had kept up a semblance of movement outside +the main flow of the social current; but with the return to town, +and the concentrating of scattered activities, the mere fact of +not slipping back naturally into her old habits of life marked +her as being unmistakably excluded from them. If one were not a +part of the season’s fixed routine, one swung unsphered in a void +of social non-existence. Lily, for all her dissatisfied dreaming, +had never really conceived the possibility of revolving about a +different centre: it was easy enough to despise the world, but +decidedly difficult to find any other habitable region. Her sense +of irony never quite deserted her, and she could still note, with +self-directed derision, the abnormal value suddenly acquired by the +most tiresome and insignificant details of her former life. Its +very drudgeries had a charm now that she was involuntarily released +from them: card-leaving, note-writing, enforced civilities to the +dull and elderly, and the smiling endurance of tedious dinners—how +pleasantly such obligations would have filled the emptiness of her +days! She did indeed leave cards in plenty; she kept herself, with +a smiling and valiant persistence, well in the eye of her world; +nor did she suffer any of those gross rebuffs which sometimes +produce a wholesome reaction of contempt in their victim. Society +did not turn away from her, it simply drifted by, preoccupied and +inattentive, letting her feel, to the full measure of her humbled +pride, how completely she had been the creature of its favour. + +She had rejected Rosedale’s suggestion with a promptness of scorn +almost surprising to herself: she had not lost her capacity for +high flashes of indignation. But she could not breathe long on the +heights; there had been nothing in her training to develop any +continuity of moral strength: what she craved, and really felt +herself entitled to, was a situation in which the noblest attitude +should also be the easiest. Hitherto her intermittent impulses +of resistance had sufficed to maintain her self-respect. If she +slipped she recovered her footing, and it was only afterward that +she was aware of having recovered it each time on a slightly lower +level. She had rejected Rosedale’s offer without conscious effort; +her whole being had risen against it; and she did not yet perceive +that, by the mere act of listening to him, she had learned to live +with ideas which would once have been intolerable to her. + + * * * * * + +To Gerty Farish, keeping watch over her with a tenderer if less +discerning eye than Mrs. Fisher’s, the results of the struggle were +already distinctly visible. She did not, indeed, know what hostages +Lily had already given to expediency; but she saw her passionately +and irretrievably pledged to the ruinous policy of “keeping up.” +Gerty could smile now at her own early dream of her friend’s +renovation through adversity: she understood clearly enough that +Lily was not of those to whom privation teaches the unimportance of +what they have lost. But this very fact, to Gerty, made her friend +the more piteously in want of aid, the more exposed to the claims +of a tenderness she was so little conscious of needing. + +Lily, since her return to town, had not often climbed Miss +Farish’s stairs. There was something irritating to her in the +mute interrogation of Gerty’s sympathy: she felt the real +difficulties of her situation to be incommunicable to any one +whose theory of values was so different from her own, and the +restrictions of Gerty’s life, which had once had the charm of +contrast, now reminded her too painfully of the limits to which +her own existence was shrinking. When at length, one afternoon, +she put into execution the belated resolve to visit her friend, +this sense of shrunken opportunities possessed her with unusual +intensity. The walk up Fifth Avenue, unfolding before her, in the +brilliance of the hard winter sunlight, an interminable procession +of fastidiously-equipped carriages—giving her, through the little +squares of brougham-windows, peeps of familiar profiles bent above +visiting-lists, of hurried hands dispensing notes and cards to +attendant footmen—this glimpse of the ever-revolving wheels of the +great social machine made Lily more than ever conscious of the +steepness and narrowness of Gerty’s stairs, and of the cramped +blind alley of life to which they led. Dull stairs destined to +be mounted by dull people: how many thousands of insignificant +figures were going up and down such stairs all over the world at +that very moment—figures as shabby and uninteresting as that of the +middle-aged lady in limp black who descended Gerty’s flight as Lily +climbed to it! + +“That was poor Miss Jane Silverton—she came to talk things over +with me: she and her sister want to do something to support +themselves,” Gerty explained, as Lily followed her into the +sitting-room. + +“To support themselves? Are they so hard up?” Miss Bart asked with +a touch of irritation: she had not come to listen to the woes of +other people. + +“I’m afraid they have nothing left: Ned’s debts have swallowed +up everything. They had such hopes, you know, when he broke away +from Carry Fisher; they thought Bertha Dorset would be such a good +influence, because she doesn’t care for cards, and—well, she talked +quite beautifully to poor Miss Jane about feeling as if Ned were +her younger brother, and wanting to carry him off on the yacht, so +that he might have a chance to drop cards and racing, and take up +his literary work again.” + +Miss Farish paused with a sigh which reflected the perplexity of +her departing visitor. “But that isn’t all; it isn’t even the +worst. It seems that Ned has quarrelled with the Dorsets; or at +least Bertha won’t allow him to see her, and he is so unhappy about +it that he has taken to gambling again, and going about with all +sorts of queer people. And cousin Grace Van Osburgh accuses him of +having had a very bad influence on Freddy, who left Harvard last +spring, and has been a great deal with Ned ever since. She sent +for Miss Jane, and made a dreadful scene; and Jack Stepney and +Herbert Melson, who were there too, told Miss Jane that Freddy was +threatening to marry some dreadful woman to whom Ned had introduced +him, and that they could do nothing with him because now he’s of +age he has his own money. You can fancy how poor Miss Jane felt—she +came to me at once, and seemed to think that if I could get her +something to do she could earn enough to pay Ned’s debts and send +him away—I’m afraid she has no idea how long it would take her to +pay for one of his evenings at bridge. And he was horribly in debt +when he came back from the cruise—I can’t see why he should have +spent so much more money under Bertha’s influence than Carry’s: can +you?” + +Lily met this query with an impatient gesture. “My dear Gerty, I +always understand how people can spend much more money—never how +they can spend any less!” + +She loosened her furs and settled herself in Gerty’s easy-chair, +while her friend busied herself with the tea-cups. + +“But what can they do—the Miss Silvertons? How do they mean +to support themselves?” she asked, conscious that the note of +irritation still persisted in her voice. It was the very last +topic she had meant to discuss—it really did not interest her in +the least—but she was seized by a sudden perverse curiosity to +know how the two colourless shrinking victims of young Silverton’s +sentimental experiments meant to cope with the grim necessity which +lurked so close to her own threshold. + +“I don’t know—I am trying to find something for them. Miss Jane +reads aloud very nicely—but it’s so hard to find any one who is +willing to be read to. And Miss Annie paints a little——” + +“Oh, I know—apple-blossoms on blotting-paper; just the kind of +thing I shall be doing myself before long!” exclaimed Lily, +starting up with a vehemence of movement that threatened +destruction to Miss Farish’s fragile tea-table. + +Lily bent over to steady the cups; then she sank back into her +seat. “I’d forgotten there was no room to dash about in—how +beautifully one does have to behave in a small flat! Oh, Gerty, I +wasn’t meant to be good,” she sighed out incoherently. + +Gerty lifted an apprehensive look to her pale face, in which the +eyes shone with a peculiar sleepless lustre. + +“You look horribly tired, Lily; take your tea, and let me give you +this cushion to lean against.” + +Miss Bart accepted the cup of tea, but put back the cushion with an +impatient hand. + +“Don’t give me that! I don’t want to lean back—I shall go to sleep +if I do.” + +“Well, why not, dear? I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” Gerty urged +affectionately. + +“No—no; don’t be quiet; talk to me—keep me awake! I don’t sleep at +night, and in the afternoon a dreadful drowsiness creeps over me.” + +“You don’t sleep at night? Since when?” + +“I don’t know—I can’t remember.” She rose and put the empty cup on +the tea-tray. “Another, and stronger, please; if I don’t keep awake +now I shall see horrors tonight—perfect horrors!” + +“But they’ll be worse if you drink too much tea.” + +“No, no—give it to me; and don’t preach, please,” Lily returned +imperiously. Her voice had a dangerous edge, and Gerty noticed that +her hand shook as she held it out to receive the second cup. + +“But you look so tired: I’m sure you must be ill——” + +Miss Bart set down her cup with a start. “Do I look ill? Does my +face show it?” She rose and walked quickly toward the little mirror +above the writing-table. “What a horrid looking-glass—it’s all +blotched and discoloured. Any one would look ghastly in it!” She +turned back, fixing her plaintive eyes on Gerty. “You stupid dear, +why do you say such odious things to me? It’s enough to make one +ill to be told one looks so! And looking ill means looking ugly.” +She caught Gerty’s wrists, and drew her close to the window. “After +all, I’d rather know the truth. Look me straight in the face, +Gerty, and tell me: am I perfectly frightful?” + +“You’re perfectly beautiful now, Lily: your eyes are shining, and +your cheeks have grown so pink all of a sudden——” + +“Ah, they WERE pale, then—ghastly pale, when I came in? Why don’t +you tell me frankly that I’m a wreck? My eyes are bright now +because I’m so nervous—but in the mornings they look like lead. +And I can see the lines coming in my face—the lines of worry and +disappointment and failure! Every sleepless night leaves a new +one—and how can I sleep, when I have such dreadful things to think +about?” + +“Dreadful things—what things?” asked Gerty, gently detaching her +wrists from her friend’s feverish fingers. + +“What things? Well, poverty, for one—and I don’t know any that’s +more dreadful.” Lily turned away and sank with sudden weariness +into the easy-chair near the tea-table. “You asked me just now if I +could understand why Ned Silverton spent so much money. Of course I +understand—he spends it on living with the rich. You think we live +ON the rich, rather than with them: and so we do, in a sense—but +it’s a privilege we have to pay for! We eat their dinners, and +drink their wine, and smoke their cigarettes, and use their +carriages and their opera-boxes and their private cars—yes, but +there’s a tax to pay on every one of those luxuries. The man pays +it by big tips to the servants, by playing cards beyond his means, +by flowers and presents—and—and—lots of other things that cost; +the girl pays it by tips and cards too—oh, yes, I’ve had to take +up bridge again—and by going to the best dress-makers, and having +just the right dress for every occasion, and always keeping herself +fresh and exquisite and amusing!” + +She leaned back for a moment, closing her eyes, and as she sat +there, her pale lips slightly parted, and the lids dropped above +her fagged brilliant gaze, Gerty had a startled perception of the +change in her face—of the way in which an ashen daylight seemed +suddenly to extinguish its artificial brightness. She looked up, +and the vision vanished. + +“It doesn’t sound very amusing, does it? And it isn’t—I’m sick to +death of it! And yet the thought of giving it all up nearly kills +me—it’s what keeps me awake at night, and makes me so crazy for +your strong tea. For I can’t go on in this way much longer, you +know—I’m nearly at the end of my tether. And then what can I do—how +on earth am I to keep myself alive? I see myself reduced to the +fate of that poor Silverton woman—slinking about to employment +agencies, and trying to sell painted blotting-pads to Women’s +Exchanges! And there are thousands and thousands of women trying to +do the same thing already, and not one of the number who has less +idea how to earn a dollar than I have!” + +She rose again with a hurried glance at the clock. “It’s late, and +I must be off—I have an appointment with Carry Fisher. Don’t look +so worried, you dear thing—don’t think too much about the nonsense +I’ve been talking.” She was before the mirror again, adjusting +her hair with a light hand, drawing down her veil, and giving a +dexterous touch to her furs. “Of course, you know, it hasn’t come +to the employment agencies and the painted blotting-pads yet; +but I’m rather hard up just for the moment, and if I could find +something to do—notes to write and visiting-lists to make up, or +that kind of thing—it would tide me over till the legacy is paid. +And Carry has promised to find somebody who wants a kind of social +secretary—you know she makes a specialty of the helpless rich.” + + * * * * * + +Miss Bart had not revealed to Gerty the full extent of her anxiety. +She was in fact in urgent and immediate need of money: money to +meet the vulgar weekly claims which could neither be deferred nor +evaded. To give up her apartment, and shrink to the obscurity of a +boarding-house, or the provisional hospitality of a bed in Gerty +Farish’s sitting-room, was an expedient which could only postpone +the problem confronting her; and it seemed wiser as well as more +agreeable to remain where she was and find some means of earning +her living. The possibility of having to do this was one which she +had never before seriously considered, and the discovery that, as a +bread-winner, she was likely to prove as helpless and ineffectual +as poor Miss Silverton, was a severe shock to her self-confidence. + +Having been accustomed to take herself at the popular valuation, +as a person of energy and resource, naturally fitted to dominate +any situation in which she found herself, she vaguely imagined that +such gifts would be of value to seekers after social guidance; +but there was unfortunately no specific head under which the +art of saying and doing the right thing could be offered in the +market, and even Mrs. Fisher’s resourcefulness failed before the +difficulty of discovering a workable vein in the vague wealth of +Lily’s graces. Mrs. Fisher was full of indirect expedients for +enabling her friends to earn a living, and could conscientiously +assert that she had put several opportunities of this kind before +Lily; but more legitimate methods of bread-winning were as much out +of her line as they were beyond the capacity of the sufferers she +was generally called upon to assist. Lily’s failure to profit by +the chances already afforded her might, moreover, have justified +the abandonment of farther effort on her behalf; but Mrs. Fisher’s +inexhaustible good-nature made her an adept at creating artificial +demands in response to an actual supply. In the pursuance of this +end she at once started on a voyage of discovery in Miss Bart’s +behalf; and as the result of her explorations she now summoned the +latter with the announcement that she had “found something.” + + * * * * * + +Left to herself, Gerty mused distressfully upon her friend’s +plight, and her own inability to relieve it. It was clear to her +that Lily, for the present, had no wish for the kind of help she +could give. Miss Farish could see no hope for her friend but in a +life completely reorganized and detached from its old associations; +whereas all Lily’s energies were centred in the determined effort +to hold fast to those associations, to keep herself visibly +identified with them, as long as the illusion could be maintained. +Pitiable as such an attitude seemed to Gerty, she could not judge +it as harshly as Selden, for instance, might have done. She had +not forgotten the night of emotion when she and Lily had lain in +each other’s arms, and she had seemed to feel her very heart’s +blood passing into her friend. The sacrifice she had made had +seemed unavailing enough; no trace remained in Lily of the subduing +influences of that hour; but Gerty’s tenderness, disciplined by +long years of contact with obscure and inarticulate suffering, +could wait on its object with a silent forbearance which took no +account of time. She could not, however, deny herself the solace of +taking anxious counsel with Lawrence Selden, with whom, since his +return from Europe, she had renewed her old relation of cousinly +confidence. + +Selden himself had never been aware of any change in their +relation. He found Gerty as he had left her, simple, undemanding +and devoted, but with a quickened intelligence of the heart which +he recognized without seeking to explain it. To Gerty herself it +would once have seemed impossible that she should ever again talk +freely with him of Lily Bart; but what had passed in the secrecy +of her own breast seemed to resolve itself, when the mist of the +struggle cleared, into a breaking down of the bounds of self, a +deflecting of the wasted personal emotion into the general current +of human understanding. + +It was not till some two weeks after her visit from Lily that +Gerty had the opportunity of communicating her fears to Selden. +The latter, having presented himself on a Sunday afternoon, had +lingered on through the dowdy animation of his cousin’s tea-hour, +conscious of something in her voice and eye which solicited a word +apart; and as soon as the last visitor was gone Gerty opened her +case by asking how lately he had seen Miss Bart. + +Selden’s perceptible pause gave her time for a slight stir of +surprise. + +“I haven’t seen her at all—I’ve perpetually missed seeing her since +she came back.” + +This unexpected admission made Gerty pause too; and she was still +hesitating on the brink of her subject when he relieved her by +adding: “I’ve wanted to see her—but she seems to have been absorbed +by the Gormer set since her return from Europe.” + +“That’s all the more reason: she’s been very unhappy.” + +“Unhappy at being with the Gormers?” + +“Oh, I don’t defend her intimacy with the Gormers; but that too is +at an end now, I think. You know people have been very unkind since +Bertha Dorset quarrelled with her.” + +“Ah——” Selden exclaimed, rising abruptly to walk to the window, +where he remained with his eyes on the darkening street while +his cousin continued to explain: “Judy Trenor and her own family +have deserted her too—and all because Bertha Dorset has said such +horrible things. And she is very poor—you know Mrs. Peniston cut +her off with a small legacy, after giving her to understand that +she was to have everything.” + +“Yes—I know,” Selden assented curtly, turning back into the room, +but only to stir about with restless steps in the circumscribed +space between door and window. “Yes—she’s been abominably treated; +but it’s unfortunately the precise thing that a man who wants to +show his sympathy can’t say to her.” + +His words caused Gerty a slight chill of disappointment. “There +would be other ways of showing your sympathy,” she suggested. + +Selden, with a slight laugh, sat down beside her on the little sofa +which projected from the hearth. “What are you thinking of, you +incorrigible missionary?” he asked. + +Gerty’s colour rose, and her blush was for a moment her only +answer. Then she made it more explicit by saying: “I am thinking of +the fact that you and she used to be great friends—that she used to +care immensely for what you thought of her—and that, if she takes +your staying away as a sign of what you think now, I can imagine +its adding a great deal to her unhappiness.” + +“My dear child, don’t add to it still more—at least to +your conception of it—by attributing to her all sorts of +susceptibilities of your own.” Selden, for his life, could not +keep a note of dryness out of his voice; but he met Gerty’s look +of perplexity by saying more mildly: “But, though you immensely +exaggerate the importance of anything I could do for Miss Bart, you +can’t exaggerate my readiness to do it—if you ask me to.” He laid +his hand for a moment on hers, and there passed between them, on +the current of the rare contact, one of those exchanges of meaning +which fill the hidden reservoirs of affection. Gerty had the +feeling that he measured the cost of her request as plainly as she +read the significance of his reply; and the sense of all that was +suddenly clear between them made her next words easier to find. + +“I do ask you, then; I ask you because she once told me that you +had been a help to her, and because she needs help now as she has +never needed it before. You know how dependent she has always been +on ease and luxury—how she has hated what was shabby and ugly and +uncomfortable. She can’t help it—she was brought up with those +ideas, and has never been able to find her way out of them. But +now all the things she cared for have been taken from her, and the +people who taught her to care for them have abandoned her too; and +it seems to me that if some one could reach out a hand and show her +the other side—show her how much is left in life and in herself——” +Gerty broke off, abashed at the sound of her own eloquence, and +impeded by the difficulty of giving precise expression to her vague +yearning for her friend’s retrieval. “I can’t help her myself: +she’s passed out of my reach,” she continued. “I think she’s afraid +of being a burden to me. When she was last here, two weeks ago, she +seemed dreadfully worried about her future: she said Carry Fisher +was trying to find something for her to do. A few days later she +wrote me that she had taken a position as private secretary, and +that I was not to be anxious, for everything was all right, and +she would come in and tell me about it when she had time; but she +has never come, and I don’t like to go to her, because I am afraid +of forcing myself on her when I’m not wanted. Once, when we were +children, and I had rushed up after a long separation, and thrown +my arms about her, she said: ‘Please don’t kiss me unless I ask you +to, Gerty’—and she DID ask me, a minute later; but since then I’ve +always waited to be asked.” + +Selden had listened in silence, with the concentrated look which +his thin dark face could assume when he wished to guard it against +any involuntary change of expression. When his cousin ended, he +said with a slight smile: “Since you’ve learned the wisdom of +waiting, I don’t see why you urge me to rush in—” but the troubled +appeal of her eyes made him add, as he rose to take leave: “Still, +I’ll do what you wish, and not hold you responsible for my failure.” + +Selden’s avoidance of Miss Bart had not been as unintentional as he +had allowed his cousin to think. At first, indeed, while the memory +of their last hour at Monte Carlo still held the full heat of his +indignation, he had anxiously watched for her return; but she had +disappointed him by lingering in England, and when she finally +reappeared it happened that business had called him to the West, +whence he came back only to learn that she was starting for Alaska +with the Gormers. The revelation of this suddenly-established +intimacy effectually chilled his desire to see her. If, at a moment +when her whole life seemed to be breaking up, she could cheerfully +commit its reconstruction to the Gormers, there was no reason why +such accidents should ever strike her as irreparable. Every step +she took seemed in fact to carry her farther from the region where, +once or twice, he and she had met for an illumined moment; and the +recognition of this fact, when its first pang had been surmounted, +produced in him a sense of negative relief. It was much simpler for +him to judge Miss Bart by her habitual conduct than by the rare +deviations from it which had thrown her so disturbingly in his way; +and every act of hers which made the recurrence of such deviations +more unlikely, confirmed the sense of relief with which he returned +to the conventional view of her. + +But Gerty Farish’s words had sufficed to make him see how little +this view was really his, and how impossible it was for him to live +quietly with the thought of Lily Bart. To hear that she was in +need of help—even such vague help as he could offer—was to be at +once repossessed by that thought; and by the time he reached the +street he had sufficiently convinced himself of the urgency of his +cousin’s appeal to turn his steps directly toward Lily’s hotel. + +There his zeal met a check in the unforeseen news that Miss Bart +had moved away; but, on his pressing his enquiries, the clerk +remembered that she had left an address, for which he presently +began to search through his books. + +It was certainly strange that she should have taken this step +without letting Gerty Farish know of her decision; and Selden +waited with a vague sense of uneasiness while the address was +sought for. The process lasted long enough for uneasiness to turn +to apprehension; but when at length a slip of paper was handed him, +and he read on it: “Care of Mrs. Norma Hatch, Emporium Hotel,” his +apprehension passed into an incredulous stare, and this into the +gesture of disgust with which he tore the paper in two, and turned +to walk quickly homeward. + + + + +Chapter 9 + + +When Lily woke on the morning after her translation to the Emporium +Hotel, her first feeling was one of purely physical satisfaction. +The force of contrast gave an added keenness to the luxury of lying +once more in a soft-pillowed bed, and looking across a spacious +sunlit room at a breakfast-table set invitingly near the fire. +Analysis and introspection might come later; but for the moment +she was not even troubled by the excesses of the upholstery or +the restless convolutions of the furniture. The sense of being +once more lapped and folded in ease, as in some dense mild medium +impenetrable to discomfort, effectually stilled the faintest note +of criticism. + +When, the afternoon before, she had presented herself to the lady +to whom Carry Fisher had directed her, she had been conscious of +entering a new world. Carry’s vague presentment of Mrs. Norma +Hatch (whose reversion to her Christian name was explained as the +result of her latest divorce), left her under the implication +of coming “from the West,” with the not unusual extenuation of +having brought a great deal of money with her. She was, in short, +rich, helpless, unplaced: the very subject for Lily’s hand. Mrs. +Fisher had not specified the line her friend was to take; she +owned herself unacquainted with Mrs. Hatch, whom she “knew about” +through Melville Stancy, a lawyer in his leisure moments, and the +Falstaff of a certain section of festive club life. Socially, Mr. +Stancy might have been said to form a connecting link between the +Gormer world and the more dimly-lit region on which Miss Bart +now found herself entering. It was, however, only figuratively +that the illumination of Mrs. Hatch’s world could be described as +dim: in actual fact, Lily found her seated in a blaze of electric +light, impartially projected from various ornamental excrescences +on a vast concavity of pink damask and gilding, from which she +rose like Venus from her shell. The analogy was justified by the +appearance of the lady, whose large-eyed prettiness had the fixity +of something impaled and shown under glass. This did not preclude +the immediate discovery that she was some years younger than her +visitor, and that under her showiness, her ease, the aggression of +her dress and voice, there persisted that ineradicable innocence +which, in ladies of her nationality, so curiously coexists with +startling extremes of experience. + +The environment in which Lily found herself was as strange to her +as its inhabitants. She was unacquainted with the world of the +fashionable New York hotel—a world over-heated, over-upholstered, +and over-fitted with mechanical appliances for the gratification +of fantastic requirements, while the comforts of a civilized life +were as unattainable as in a desert. Through this atmosphere of +torrid splendour moved wan beings as richly upholstered as the +furniture, beings without definite pursuits or permanent relations, +who drifted on a languid tide of curiosity from restaurant to +concert-hall, from palm-garden to music-room, from “art exhibit” to +dress-maker’s opening. High-stepping horses or elaborately equipped +motors waited to carry these ladies into vague metropolitan +distances, whence they returned, still more wan from the weight of +their sables, to be sucked back into the stifling inertia of the +hotel routine. Somewhere behind them, in the background of their +lives, there was doubtless a real past, peopled by real human +activities: they themselves were probably the product of strong +ambitions, persistent energies, diversified contacts with the +wholesome roughness of life; yet they had no more real existence +than the poet’s shades in limbo. + +Lily had not been long in this pallid world without discovering +that Mrs. Hatch was its most substantial figure. That lady, though +still floating in the void, showed faint symptoms of developing +an outline; and in this endeavour she was actively seconded by +Mr. Melville Stancy. It was Mr. Stancy, a man of large resounding +presence, suggestive of convivial occasions and of a chivalry +finding expression in “first-night” boxes and thousand dollar +bonbonnieres, who had transplanted Mrs. Hatch from the scene of +her first development to the higher stage of hotel life in the +metropolis. It was he who had selected the horses with which she +had taken the blue ribbon at the Show, had introduced her to the +photographer whose portraits of her formed the recurring ornament +of “Sunday Supplements,” and had got together the group which +constituted her social world. It was a small group still, with +heterogeneous figures suspended in large unpeopled spaces; but Lily +did not take long to learn that its regulation was no longer in Mr. +Stancy’s hands. As often happens, the pupil had outstripped the +teacher, and Mrs. Hatch was already aware of heights of elegance +as well as depths of luxury beyond the world of the Emporium. This +discovery at once produced in her a craving for higher guidance, +for the adroit feminine hand which should give the right turn +to her correspondence, the right “look” to her hats, the right +succession to the items of her MENUS. It was, in short, as the +regulator of a germinating social life that Miss Bart’s guidance +was required; her ostensible duties as secretary being restricted +by the fact that Mrs. Hatch, as yet, knew hardly any one to write +to. + +The daily details of Mrs. Hatch’s existence were as strange to +Lily as its general tenor. The lady’s habits were marked by an +Oriental indolence and disorder peculiarly trying to her companion. +Mrs. Hatch and her friends seemed to float together outside the +bounds of time and space. No definite hours were kept; no fixed +obligations existed: night and day flowed into one another in a +blur of confused and retarded engagements, so that one had the +impression of lunching at the tea-hour, while dinner was often +merged in the noisy after-theatre supper which prolonged Mrs. +Hatch’s vigil till daylight. + +Through this jumble of futile activities came and went a strange +throng of hangers-on—manicures, beauty-doctors, hair-dressers, +teachers of bridge, of French, of “physical development”: figures +sometimes indistinguishable, by their appearance, or by Mrs. +Hatch’s relation to them, from the visitors constituting her +recognized society. But strangest of all to Lily was the encounter, +in this latter group, of several of her acquaintances. She had +supposed, and not without relief, that she was passing, for the +moment, completely out of her own circle; but she found that Mr. +Stancy, one side of whose sprawling existence overlapped the +edge of Mrs. Fisher’s world, had drawn several of its brightest +ornaments into the circle of the Emporium. To find Ned Silverton +among the habitual frequenters of Mrs. Hatch’s drawing-room +was one of Lily’s first astonishments; but she soon discovered +that he was not Mr. Stancy’s most important recruit. It was on +little Freddy Van Osburgh, the small slim heir of the Van Osburgh +millions, that the attention of Mrs. Hatch’s group was centred. +Freddy, barely out of college, had risen above the horizon since +Lily’s eclipse, and she now saw with surprise what an effulgence he +shed on the outer twilight of Mrs. Hatch’s existence. This, then, +was one of the things that young men “went in” for when released +from the official social routine; this was the kind of “previous +engagement” that so frequently caused them to disappoint the hopes +of anxious hostesses. Lily had an odd sense of being behind the +social tapestry, on the side where the threads were knotted and +the loose ends hung. For a moment she found a certain amusement in +the show, and in her own share of it: the situation had an ease +and unconventionality distinctly refreshing after her experience +of the irony of conventions. But these flashes of amusement were +but brief reactions from the long disgust of her days. Compared +with the vast gilded void of Mrs. Hatch’s existence, the life of +Lily’s former friends seemed packed with ordered activities. Even +the most irresponsible pretty woman of her acquaintance had her +inherited obligations, her conventional benevolences, her share in +the working of the great civic machine; and all hung together in +the solidarity of these traditional functions. The performance of +specific duties would have simplified Miss Bart’s position; but the +vague attendance on Mrs. Hatch was not without its perplexities. + +It was not her employer who created these perplexities. Mrs. +Hatch showed from the first an almost touching desire for Lily’s +approval. Far from asserting the superiority of wealth, her +beautiful eyes seemed to urge the plea of inexperience: she wanted +to do what was “nice,” to be taught how to be “lovely.” The +difficulty was to find any point of contact between her ideals and +Lily’s. + +Mrs. Hatch swam in a haze of indeterminate enthusiasms, of +aspirations culled from the stage, the newspapers, the fashion +journals, and a gaudy world of sport still more completely beyond +her companion’s ken. To separate from these confused conceptions +those most likely to advance the lady on her way, was Lily’s +obvious duty; but its performance was hampered by rapidly-growing +doubts. Lily was in fact becoming more and more aware of a certain +ambiguity in her situation. It was not that she had, in the +conventional sense, any doubt of Mrs. Hatch’s irreproachableness. +The lady’s offences were always against taste rather than conduct; +her divorce record seemed due to geographical rather than ethical +conditions; and her worst laxities were likely to proceed from +a wandering and extravagant good-nature. But if Lily did not +mind her detaining her manicure for luncheon, or offering the +“Beauty-Doctor” a seat in Freddy Van Osburgh’s box at the play, +she was not equally at ease in regard to some less apparent lapses +from convention. Ned Silverton’s relation to Stancy seemed, for +instance, closer and less clear than any natural affinities would +warrant; and both appeared united in the effort to cultivate Freddy +Van Osburgh’s growing taste for Mrs. Hatch. There was as yet +nothing definable in the situation, which might well resolve itself +into a huge joke on the part of the other two; but Lily had a vague +sense that the subject of their experiment was too young, too rich +and too credulous. Her embarrassment was increased by the fact that +Freddy seemed to regard her as cooperating with himself in the +social development of Mrs. Hatch: a view that suggested, on his +part, a permanent interest in the lady’s future. There were moments +when Lily found an ironic amusement in this aspect of the case. The +thought of launching such a missile as Mrs. Hatch at the perfidious +bosom of society was not without its charm: Miss Bart had even +beguiled her leisure with visions of the fair Norma introduced for +the first time to a family banquet at the Van Osburghs’. But the +thought of being personally connected with the transaction was less +agreeable; and her momentary flashes of amusement were followed by +increasing periods of doubt. + +The sense of these doubts was uppermost when, late one afternoon, +she was surprised by a visit from Lawrence Selden. He found her +alone in the wilderness of pink damask, for in Mrs. Hatch’s world +the tea-hour was not dedicated to social rites, and the lady was in +the hands of her masseuse. + +Selden’s entrance had caused Lily an inward start of embarrassment; +but his air of constraint had the effect of restoring her +self-possession, and she took at once the tone of surprise and +pleasure, wondering frankly that he should have traced her to so +unlikely a place, and asking what had inspired him to make the +search. + +Selden met this with an unusual seriousness: she had never seen him +so little master of the situation, so plainly at the mercy of any +obstructions she might put in his way. “I wanted to see you,” he +said; and she could not resist observing in reply that he had kept +his wishes under remarkable control. She had in truth felt his long +absence as one of the chief bitternesses of the last months: his +desertion had wounded sensibilities far below the surface of her +pride. + +Selden met the challenge with directness. “Why should I have come, +unless I thought I could be of use to you? It is my only excuse for +imagining you could want me.” + +This struck her as a clumsy evasion, and the thought gave a flash +of keenness to her answer. “Then you have come now because you +think you can be of use to me?” + +He hesitated again. “Yes: in the modest capacity of a person to +talk things over with.” + +For a clever man it was certainly a stupid beginning; and the +idea that his awkwardness was due to the fear of her attaching a +personal significance to his visit, chilled her pleasure in seeing +him. Even under the most adverse conditions, that pleasure always +made itself felt: she might hate him, but she had never been able +to wish him out of the room. She was very near hating him now; +yet the sound of his voice, the way the light fell on his thin +dark hair, the way he sat and moved and wore his clothes—she was +conscious that even these trivial things were inwoven with her +deepest life. In his presence a sudden stillness came upon her, and +the turmoil of her spirit ceased; but an impulse of resistance to +this stealing influence now prompted her to say: “It’s very good of +you to present yourself in that capacity; but what makes you think +I have anything particular to talk about?” + +Though she kept the even tone of light intercourse, the question +was framed in a way to remind him that his good offices were +unsought; and for a moment Selden was checked by it. The situation +between them was one which could have been cleared up only by a +sudden explosion of feeling; and their whole training and habit +of mind were against the chances of such an explosion. Selden’s +calmness seemed rather to harden into resistance, and Miss Bart’s +into a surface of glittering irony, as they faced each other from +the opposite corners of one of Mrs. Hatch’s elephantine sofas. The +sofa in question, and the apartment peopled by its monstrous mates, +served at length to suggest the turn of Selden’s reply. + +“Gerty told me that you were acting as Mrs. Hatch’s secretary; and +I knew she was anxious to hear how you were getting on.” + +Miss Bart received this explanation without perceptible softening. +“Why didn’t she look me up herself, then?” she asked. + +“Because, as you didn’t send her your address, she was afraid of +being importunate.” Selden continued with a smile: “You see no such +scruples restrained me; but then I haven’t as much to risk if I +incur your displeasure.” + +Lily answered his smile. “You haven’t incurred it as yet; but I +have an idea that you are going to.” + +“That rests with you, doesn’t it? You see my initiative doesn’t go +beyond putting myself at your disposal.” + +“But in what capacity? What am I to do with you?” she asked in the +same light tone. + +Selden again glanced about Mrs. Hatch’s drawing-room; then he said, +with a decision which he seemed to have gathered from this final +inspection: “You are to let me take you away from here.” + +Lily flushed at the suddenness of the attack; then she stiffened +under it and said coldly: “And may I ask where you mean me to go?” + +“Back to Gerty in the first place, if you will; the essential thing +is that it should be away from here.” + +The unusual harshness of his tone might have shown her how much the +words cost him; but she was in no state to measure his feelings +while her own were in a flame of revolt. To neglect her, perhaps +even to avoid her, at a time when she had most need of her friends, +and then suddenly and unwarrantably to break into her life with +this strange assumption of authority, was to rouse in her every +instinct of pride and self-defence. + +“I am very much obliged to you,” she said, “for taking such an +interest in my plans; but I am quite contented where I am, and have +no intention of leaving.” + +Selden had risen, and was standing before her in an attitude of +uncontrollable expectancy. + +“That simply means that you don’t know where you are!” he exclaimed. + +Lily rose also, with a quick flash of anger. “If you have come here +to say disagreeable things about Mrs. Hatch——” + +“It is only with your relation to Mrs. Hatch that I am concerned.” + +“My relation to Mrs. Hatch is one I have no reason to be ashamed +of. She has helped me to earn a living when my old friends were +quite resigned to seeing me starve.” + +“Nonsense! Starvation is not the only alternative. You know you can +always find a home with Gerty till you are independent again.” + +“You show such an intimate acquaintance with my affairs that I +suppose you mean—till my aunt’s legacy is paid?” + +“I do mean that; Gerty told me of it,” Selden acknowledged without +embarrassment. He was too much in earnest now to feel any false +constraint in speaking his mind. + +“But Gerty does not happen to know,” Miss Bart rejoined, “that I +owe every penny of that legacy.” + +“Good God!” Selden exclaimed, startled out of his composure by the +abruptness of the statement. + +“Every penny of it, and more too,” Lily repeated; “and you now +perhaps see why I prefer to remain with Mrs. Hatch rather than take +advantage of Gerty’s kindness. I have no money left, except my +small income, and I must earn something more to keep myself alive.” + +Selden hesitated a moment; then he rejoined in a quieter tone: +“But with your income and Gerty’s—since you allow me to go so +far into the details of the situation—you and she could surely +contrive a life together which would put you beyond the need of +having to support yourself. Gerty, I know, is eager to make such an +arrangement, and would be quite happy in it——” + +“But I should not,” Miss Bart interposed. “There are many reasons +why it would be neither kind to Gerty nor wise for myself.” She +paused a moment, and as he seemed to await a farther explanation, +added with a quick lift of her head: “You will perhaps excuse me +from giving you these reasons.” + +“I have no claim to know them,” Selden answered, ignoring her tone; +“no claim to offer any comment or suggestion beyond the one I have +already made. And my right to make that is simply the universal +right of a man to enlighten a woman when he sees her unconsciously +placed in a false position.” + +Lily smiled. “I suppose,” she rejoined, “that by a false position +you mean one outside of what we call society; but you must remember +that I had been excluded from those sacred precincts long before +I met Mrs. Hatch. As far as I can see, there is very little real +difference in being inside or out, and I remember your once telling +me that it was only those inside who took the difference seriously.” + +She had not been without intention in making this allusion to their +memorable talk at Bellomont, and she waited with an odd tremor of +the nerves to see what response it would bring; but the result of +the experiment was disappointing. Selden did not allow the allusion +to deflect him from his point; he merely said with completer +fulness of emphasis: “The question of being inside or out is, as +you say, a small one, and it happens to have nothing to do with the +case, except in so far as Mrs. Hatch’s desire to be inside may put +you in the position I call false.” + +In spite of the moderation of his tone, each word he spoke had the +effect of confirming Lily’s resistance. The very apprehensions he +aroused hardened her against him: she had been on the alert for the +note of personal sympathy, for any sign of recovered power over +him; and his attitude of sober impartiality, the absence of all +response to her appeal, turned her hurt pride to blind resentment +of his interference. The conviction that he had been sent by Gerty, +and that, whatever straits he conceived her to be in, he would +never voluntarily have come to her aid, strengthened her resolve +not to admit him a hair’s breadth farther into her confidence. +However doubtful she might feel her situation to be, she would +rather persist in darkness than owe her enlightenment to Selden. + +“I don’t know,” she said, when he had ceased to speak, “why you +imagine me to be situated as you describe; but as you have always +told me that the sole object of a bringing-up like mine was to +teach a girl to get what she wants, why not assume that that is +precisely what I am doing?” + +The smile with which she summed up her case was like a clear +barrier raised against farther confidences: its brightness held +him at such a distance that he had a sense of being almost out of +hearing as he rejoined: “I am not sure that I have ever called you +a successful example of that kind of bringing-up.” + +Her colour rose a little at the implication, but she steeled +herself with a light laugh. “Ah, wait a little longer—give me a +little more time before you decide!” And as he wavered before her, +still watching for a break in the impenetrable front she presented: +“Don’t give me up; I may still do credit to my training!” she +affirmed. + + + + +Chapter 10 + + +“Look at those spangles, Miss Bart—every one of ’em sewed on +crooked.” + +The tall forewoman, a pinched perpendicular figure, dropped the +condemned structure of wire and net on the table at Lily’s side, +and passed on to the next figure in the line. + +There were twenty of them in the work-room, their fagged profiles, +under exaggerated hair, bowed in the harsh north light above +the utensils of their art; for it was something more than an +industry, surely, this creation of ever-varied settings for the +face of fortunate womanhood. Their own faces were sallow with the +unwholesomeness of hot air and sedentary toil, rather than with any +actual signs of want: they were employed in a fashionable millinery +establishment, and were fairly well clothed and well paid; but the +youngest among them was as dull and colourless as the middle-aged. +In the whole work-room there was only one skin beneath which the +blood still visibly played; and that now burned with vexation as +Miss Bart, under the lash of the forewoman’s comment, began to +strip the hat-frame of its over-lapping spangles. + +To Gerty Farish’s hopeful spirit a solution appeared to have been +reached when she remembered how beautifully Lily could trim hats. +Instances of young lady-milliners establishing themselves under +fashionable patronage, and imparting to their “creations” that +indefinable touch which the professional hand can never give, had +flattered Gerty’s visions of the future, and convinced even Lily +that her separation from Mrs. Norma Hatch need not reduce her to +dependence on her friends. + +The parting had occurred a few weeks after Selden’s visit, and +would have taken place sooner had it not been for the resistance +set up in Lily by his ill-starred offer of advice. The sense of +being involved in a transaction she would not have cared to examine +too closely had soon afterward defined itself in the light of a +hint from Mr. Stancy that, if she “saw them through,” she would +have no reason to be sorry. The implication that such loyalty would +meet with a direct reward had hastened her flight, and flung her +back, ashamed and penitent, on the broad bosom of Gerty’s sympathy. +She did not, however, propose to lie there prone, and Gerty’s +inspiration about the hats at once revived her hopes of profitable +activity. Here was, after all, something that her charming listless +hands could really do; she had no doubt of their capacity for +knotting a ribbon or placing a flower to advantage. And of course +only these finishing touches would be expected of her: subordinate +fingers, blunt, grey, needle-pricked fingers, would prepare the +shapes and stitch the linings, while she presided over the charming +little front shop—a shop all white panels, mirrors, and moss-green +hangings—where her finished creations, hats, wreaths, aigrettes +and the rest, perched on their stands like birds just poising for +flight. + +But at the very outset of Gerty’s campaign this vision of the +green-and-white shop had been dispelled. Other young ladies of +fashion had been thus “set up,” selling their hats by the mere +attraction of a name and the reputed knack of tying a bow; but +these privileged beings could command a faith in their powers +materially expressed by the readiness to pay their shop-rent and +advance a handsome sum for current expenses. Where was Lily to +find such support? And even could it have been found, how were +the ladies on whose approval she depended to be induced to give +her their patronage? Gerty learned that whatever sympathy her +friend’s case might have excited a few months since had been +imperilled, if not lost, by her association with Mrs. Hatch. Once +again, Lily had withdrawn from an ambiguous situation in time to +save her self-respect, but too late for public vindication. Freddy +Van Osburgh was not to marry Mrs. Hatch; he had been rescued at +the eleventh hour—some said by the efforts of Gus Trenor and +Rosedale—and despatched to Europe with old Ned Van Alstyne; but the +risk he had run would always be ascribed to Miss Bart’s connivance, +and would somehow serve as a summing-up and corroboration of the +vague general distrust of her. It was a relief to those who had +hung back from her to find themselves thus justified, and they were +inclined to insist a little on her connection with the Hatch case +in order to show that they had been right. + +Gerty’s quest, at any rate, brought up against a solid wall of +resistance; and even when Carry Fisher, momentarily penitent +for her share in the Hatch affair, joined her efforts to Miss +Farish’s, they met with no better success. Gerty had tried to veil +her failure in tender ambiguities; but Carry, always the soul of +candour, put the case squarely to her friend. + +“I went straight to Judy Trenor; she has fewer prejudices than the +others, and besides she’s always hated Bertha Dorset. But what HAVE +you done to her, Lily? At the very first word about giving you a +start she flamed out about some money you’d got from Gus; I never +knew her so hot before. You know she’ll let him do anything but +spend money on his friends: the only reason she’s decent to me now +is that she knows I’m not hard up.—He speculated for you, you say? +Well, what’s the harm? He had no business to lose. He DIDN’T lose? +Then what on earth—but I never COULD understand you, Lily!” + +The end of it was that, after anxious enquiry and much +deliberation, Mrs. Fisher and Gerty, for once oddly united in +their effort to help their friend, decided on placing her in the +work-room of Mme. Regina’s renowned millinery establishment. Even +this arrangement was not effected without considerable negotiation, +for Mme. Regina had a strong prejudice against untrained +assistance, and was induced to yield only by the fact that she +owed the patronage of Mrs. Bry and Mrs. Gormer to Carry Fisher’s +influence. She had been willing from the first to employ Lily in +the show-room: as a displayer of hats, a fashionable beauty might +be a valuable asset. But to this suggestion Miss Bart opposed a +negative which Gerty emphatically supported, while Mrs. Fisher, +inwardly unconvinced, but resigned to this latest proof of Lily’s +unreason, agreed that perhaps in the end it would be more useful +that she should learn the trade. To Regina’s work-room Lily was +therefore committed by her friends, and there Mrs. Fisher left her +with a sigh of relief, while Gerty’s watchfulness continued to +hover over her at a distance. + +Lily had taken up her work early in January: it was now two months +later, and she was still being rebuked for her inability to sew +spangles on a hat-frame. As she returned to her work she heard +a titter pass down the tables. She knew she was an object of +criticism and amusement to the other work-women. They were, of +course, aware of her history—the exact situation of every girl +in the room was known and freely discussed by all the others—but +the knowledge did not produce in them any awkward sense of class +distinction: it merely explained why her untutored fingers were +still blundering over the rudiments of the trade. Lily had no +desire that they should recognize any social difference in her; but +she had hoped to be received as their equal, and perhaps before +long to show herself their superior by a special deftness of touch, +and it was humiliating to find that, after two months of drudgery, +she still betrayed her lack of early training. Remote was the day +when she might aspire to exercise the talents she felt confident +of possessing; only experienced workers were entrusted with the +delicate art of shaping and trimming the hat, and the forewoman +still held her inexorably to the routine of preparatory work. + +She began to rip the spangles from the frame, listening absently to +the buzz of talk which rose and fell with the coming and going of +Miss Haines’s active figure. The air was closer than usual, because +Miss Haines, who had a cold, had not allowed a window to be opened +even during the noon recess; and Lily’s head was so heavy with the +weight of a sleepless night that the chatter of her companions had +the incoherence of a dream. + +“I TOLD her he’d never look at her again; and he didn’t. I wouldn’t +have, either—I think she acted real mean to him. He took her to +the Arion Ball, and had a hack for her both ways.... She’s taken +ten bottles, and her headaches don’t seem no better—but she’s +written a testimonial to say the first bottle cured her, and she +got five dollars and her picture in the paper.... Mrs. Trenor’s +hat? The one with the green Paradise? Here, Miss Haines—it’ll be +ready right off.... That was one of the Trenor girls here yesterday +with Mrs. George Dorset. How’d I know? Why, Madam sent for me to +alter the flower in that Virot hat—the blue tulle: she’s tall and +slight, with her hair fuzzed out—a good deal like Mamie Leach, on’y +thinner....” + +On and on it flowed, a current of meaningless sound, on which, +startlingly enough, a familiar name now and then floated to the +surface. It was the strangest part of Lily’s strange experience, +the hearing of these names, the seeing the fragmentary and +distorted image of the world she had lived in reflected in the +mirror of the working-girls’ minds. She had never before suspected +the mixture of insatiable curiosity and contemptuous freedom with +which she and her kind were discussed in this underworld of toilers +who lived on their vanity and self-indulgence. Every girl in Mme. +Regina’s work-room knew to whom the headgear in her hands was +destined, and had her opinion of its future wearer, and a definite +knowledge of the latter’s place in the social system. That Lily +was a star fallen from that sky did not, after the first stir of +curiosity had subsided, materially add to their interest in her. +She had fallen, she had “gone under,” and true to the ideal of +their race, they were awed only by success—by the gross tangible +image of material achievement. The consciousness of her different +point of view merely kept them at a little distance from her, as +though she were a foreigner with whom it was an effort to talk. + +“Miss Bart, if you can’t sew those spangles on more regular I guess +you’d better give the hat to Miss Kilroy.” + +Lily looked down ruefully at her handiwork. The forewoman was +right: the sewing on of the spangles was inexcusably bad. What +made her so much more clumsy than usual? Was it a growing distaste +for her task, or actual physical disability? She felt tired and +confused: it was an effort to put her thoughts together. She rose +and handed the hat to Miss Kilroy, who took it with a suppressed +smile. + +“I’m sorry; I’m afraid I am not well,” she said to the forewoman. + +Miss Haines offered no comment. From the first she had augured ill +of Mme. Regina’s consenting to include a fashionable apprentice +among her workers. In that temple of art no raw beginners were +wanted, and Miss Haines would have been more than human had she not +taken a certain pleasure in seeing her forebodings confirmed. + +“You’d better go back to binding edges,” she said drily. Lily +slipped out last among the band of liberated work-women. She +did not care to be mingled in their noisy dispersal: once in +the street, she always felt an irresistible return to her old +standpoint, an instinctive shrinking from all that was unpolished +and promiscuous. In the days—how distant they now seemed!—when she +had visited the Girls’ Club with Gerty Farish, she had felt an +enlightened interest in the working-classes; but that was because +she looked down on them from above, from the happy altitude of her +grace and her beneficence. Now that she was on a level with them, +the point of view was less interesting. + +She felt a touch on her arm, and met the penitent eye of Miss +Kilroy. “Miss Bart, I guess you can sew those spangles on as well +as I can when you’re feeling right. Miss Haines didn’t act fair to +you.” + +Lily’s colour rose at the unexpected advance: it was a long time +since real kindness had looked at her from any eyes but Gerty’s. + +“Oh, thank you: I’m not particularly well, but Miss Haines was +right. I AM clumsy.” + +“Well, it’s mean work for anybody with a headache.” Miss Kilroy +paused irresolutely. “You ought to go right home and lay down. Ever +try orangeine?” + +“Thank you.” Lily held out her hand. “It’s very kind of you—I mean +to go home.” + +She looked gratefully at Miss Kilroy, but neither knew what more +to say. Lily was aware that the other was on the point of offering +to go home with her, but she wanted to be alone and silent—even +kindness, the sort of kindness that Miss Kilroy could give, would +have jarred on her just then. + +“Thank you,” she repeated as she turned away. + +She struck westward through the dreary March twilight, toward +the street where her boarding-house stood. She had resolutely +refused Gerty’s offer of hospitality. Something of her mother’s +fierce shrinking from observation and sympathy was beginning to +develop in her, and the promiscuity of small quarters and close +intimacy seemed, on the whole, less endurable than the solitude of +a hall bedroom in a house where she could come and go unremarked +among other workers. For a while she had been sustained by this +desire for privacy and independence; but now, perhaps from +increasing physical weariness, the lassitude brought about by +hours of unwonted confinement, she was beginning to feel acutely +the ugliness and discomfort of her surroundings. The day’s task +done, she dreaded to return to her narrow room, with its blotched +wall-paper and shabby paint; and she hated every step of the walk +thither, through the degradation of a New York street in the last +stages of decline from fashion to commerce. + +But what she dreaded most of all was having to pass the chemist’s +at the corner of Sixth Avenue. She had meant to take another +street: she had usually done so of late. But today her steps were +irresistibly drawn toward the flaring plate-glass corner; she tried +to take the lower crossing, but a laden dray crowded her back, and +she struck across the street obliquely, reaching the sidewalk just +opposite the chemist’s door. + +Over the counter she caught the eye of the clerk who had waited +on her before, and slipped the prescription into his hand. There +could be no question about the prescription: it was a copy of one +of Mrs. Hatch’s, obligingly furnished by that lady’s chemist. Lily +was confident that the clerk would fill it without hesitation; +yet the nervous dread of a refusal, or even of an expression of +doubt, communicated itself to her restless hands as she affected to +examine the bottles of perfume stacked on the glass case before her. + +The clerk had read the prescription without comment; but in the act +of handing out the bottle he paused. + +“You don’t want to increase the dose, you know,” he remarked. +Lily’s heart contracted. + +What did he mean by looking at her in that way? + +“Of course not,” she murmured, holding out her hand. + +“That’s all right: it’s a queer-acting drug. A drop or two more, +and off you go—the doctors don’t know why.” + +The dread lest he should question her, or keep the bottle back, +choked the murmur of acquiescence in her throat; and when at length +she emerged safely from the shop she was almost dizzy with the +intensity of her relief. The mere touch of the packet thrilled her +tired nerves with the delicious promise of a night of sleep, and in +the reaction from her momentary fear she felt as if the first fumes +of drowsiness were already stealing over her. + +In her confusion she stumbled against a man who was hurrying down +the last steps of the elevated station. He drew back, and she heard +her name uttered with surprise. It was Rosedale, fur-coated, glossy +and prosperous—but why did she seem to see him so far off, and as +if through a mist of splintered crystals? Before she could account +for the phenomenon she found herself shaking hands with him. They +had parted with scorn on her side and anger upon his; but all trace +of these emotions seemed to vanish as their hands met, and she was +only aware of a confused wish that she might continue to hold fast +to him. + +“Why, what’s the matter, Miss Lily? You’re not well!” he exclaimed; +and she forced her lips into a pallid smile of reassurance. + +“I’m a little tired—it’s nothing. Stay with me a moment, please,” +she faltered. That she should be asking this service of Rosedale! + +He glanced at the dirty and unpropitious corner on which they +stood, with the shriek of the “elevated” and the tumult of trams +and waggons contending hideously in their ears. + +“We can’t stay here; but let me take you somewhere for a cup of +tea. The LONGWORTH is only a few yards off, and there’ll be no one +there at this hour.” + +A cup of tea in quiet, somewhere out of the noise and ugliness, +seemed for the moment the one solace she could bear. A few steps +brought them to the ladies’ door of the hotel he had named, and +a moment later he was seated opposite to her, and the waiter had +placed the tea-tray between them. + +“Not a drop of brandy or whiskey first? You look regularly done up, +Miss Lily. Well, take your tea strong, then; and, waiter, get a +cushion for the lady’s back.” + +Lily smiled faintly at the injunction to take her tea strong. +It was the temptation she was always struggling to resist. Her +craving for the keen stimulant was forever conflicting with that +other craving for sleep—the midnight craving which only the little +phial in her hand could still. But today, at any rate, the tea +could hardly be too strong: she counted on it to pour warmth and +resolution into her empty veins. + +As she leaned back before him, her lids drooping in utter +lassitude, though the first warm draught already tinged her face +with returning life, Rosedale was seized afresh by the poignant +surprise of her beauty. The dark pencilling of fatigue under her +eyes, the morbid blue-veined pallor of the temples, brought out the +brightness of her hair and lips, as though all her ebbing vitality +were centred there. Against the dull chocolate-coloured background +of the restaurant, the purity of her head stood out as it had +never done in the most brightly lit ball-room. He looked at her +with a startled uncomfortable feeling, as though her beauty were a +forgotten enemy that had lain in ambush and now sprang out on him +unawares. + +To clear the air he tried to take an easy tone with her. “Why, Miss +Lily, I haven’t seen you for an age. I didn’t know what had become +of you.” + +As he spoke, he was checked by an embarrassing sense of the +complications to which this might lead. Though he had not seen her +he had heard of her; he knew of her connection with Mrs. Hatch, and +of the talk resulting from it. Mrs. Hatch’s MILIEU was one which he +had once assiduously frequented, and now as devoutly shunned. + +Lily, to whom the tea had restored her usual clearness of mind, saw +what was in his thoughts and said with a slight smile: “You would +not be likely to know about me. I have joined the working-classes.” + +He stared in genuine wonder. “You don’t mean—? Why, what on earth +are you doing?” + +“Learning to be a milliner—at least TRYING to learn,” she hastily +qualified the statement. + +Rosedale suppressed a low whistle of surprise. “Come off—you ain’t +serious, are you?” + +“Perfectly serious. I’m obliged to work for my living.” + +“But I understood—I thought you were with Norma Hatch.” + +“You heard I had gone to her as her secretary?” + +“Something of the kind, I believe.” He leaned forward to refill her +cup. + +Lily guessed the possibilities of embarrassment which the topic +held for him, and raising her eyes to his, she said suddenly: “I +left her two months ago.” + +Rosedale continued to fumble awkwardly with the tea-pot, and she +felt sure that he had heard what had been said of her. But what was +there that Rosedale did not hear? + +“Wasn’t it a soft berth?” he enquired, with an attempt at lightness. + +“Too soft—one might have sunk in too deep.” Lily rested one arm on +the edge of the table, and sat looking at him more intently than +she had ever looked before. An uncontrollable impulse was urging +her to put her case to this man, from whose curiosity she had +always so fiercely defended herself. + +“You know Mrs. Hatch, I think? Well, perhaps you can understand +that she might make things too easy for one.” + +Rosedale looked faintly puzzled, and she remembered that +allusiveness was lost on him. + +“It was no place for you, anyhow,” he agreed, so suffused and +immersed in the light of her full gaze that he found himself being +drawn into strange depths of intimacy. He who had had to subsist +on mere fugitive glances, looks winged in flight and swiftly lost +under covert, now found her eyes settling on him with a brooding +intensity that fairly dazzled him. + +“I left,” Lily continued, “lest people should say I was helping +Mrs. Hatch to marry Freddy Van Osburgh—who is not in the least too +good for her—and as they still continue to say it, I see that I +might as well have stayed where I was.” + +“Oh, Freddy——” Rosedale brushed aside the topic with an air of its +unimportance which gave a sense of the immense perspective he had +acquired. “Freddy don’t count—but I knew YOU weren’t mixed up in +that. It ain’t your style.” + +Lily coloured slightly: she could not conceal from herself that +the words gave her pleasure. She would have liked to sit there, +drinking more tea, and continuing to talk of herself to Rosedale. +But the old habit of observing the conventions reminded her that it +was time to bring their colloquy to an end, and she made a faint +motion to push back her chair. + +Rosedale stopped her with a protesting gesture. “Wait a +minute—don’t go yet; sit quiet and rest a little longer. You look +thoroughly played out. And you haven’t told me——” He broke off, +conscious of going farther than he had meant. She saw the struggle +and understood it; understood also the nature of the spell to which +he yielded as, with his eyes on her face, he began again abruptly: +“What on earth did you mean by saying just now that you were +learning to be a milliner?” + +“Just what I said. I am an apprentice at Regina’s.” + +“Good Lord—YOU? But what for? I knew your aunt had turned you down: +Mrs. Fisher told me about it. But I understood you got a legacy +from her——” + +“I got ten thousand dollars; but the legacy is not to be paid till +next summer.” + +“Well, but—look here: you could BORROW on it any time you wanted.” + +She shook her head gravely. “No; for I owe it already.” + +“Owe it? The whole ten thousand?” + +“Every penny.” She paused, and then continued abruptly, with her +eyes on his face: “I think Gus Trenor spoke to you once about +having made some money for me in stocks.” + +She waited, and Rosedale, congested with embarrassment, muttered +that he remembered something of the kind. + +“He made about nine thousand dollars,” Lily pursued, in the same +tone of eager communicativeness. “At the time, I understood that +he was speculating with my own money: it was incredibly stupid of +me, but I knew nothing of business. Afterward I found out that he +had NOT used my money—that what he said he had made for me he had +really given me. It was meant in kindness, of course; but it was +not the sort of obligation one could remain under. Unfortunately +I had spent the money before I discovered my mistake; and so my +legacy will have to go to pay it back. That is the reason why I am +trying to learn a trade.” + +She made the statement clearly, deliberately, with pauses between +the sentences, so that each should have time to sink deeply into +her hearer’s mind. She had a passionate desire that some one +should know the truth about this transaction, and also that the +rumour of her intention to repay the money should reach Judy +Trenor’s ears. And it had suddenly occurred to her that Rosedale, +who had surprised Trenor’s confidence, was the fitting person to +receive and transmit her version of the facts. She had even felt +a momentary exhilaration at the thought of thus relieving herself +of her detested secret; but the sensation gradually faded in the +telling, and as she ended her pallor was suffused with a deep blush +of misery. + +Rosedale continued to stare at her in wonder; but the wonder took +the turn she had least expected. + +“But see here—if that’s the case, it cleans you out altogether?” + +He put it to her as if she had not grasped the consequences of her +act; as if her incorrigible ignorance of business were about to +precipitate her into a fresh act of folly. + +“Altogether—yes,” she calmly agreed. + +He sat silent, his thick hands clasped on the table, his little +puzzled eyes exploring the recesses of the deserted restaurant. + +“See here—that’s fine,” he exclaimed abruptly. + +Lily rose from her seat with a deprecating laugh. “Oh, no—it’s +merely a bore,” she asserted, gathering together the ends of her +feather scarf. + +Rosedale remained seated, too intent on his thoughts to notice her +movement. “Miss Lily, if you want any backing—I like pluck——” broke +from him disconnectedly. + +“Thank you.” She held out her hand. “Your tea has given me a +tremendous backing. I feel equal to anything now.” + +Her gesture seemed to show a definite intention of dismissal, but +her companion had tossed a bill to the waiter, and was slipping his +short arms into his expensive overcoat. + +“Wait a minute—you’ve got to let me walk home with you,” he said. + +Lily uttered no protest, and when he had paused to make sure of +his change they emerged from the hotel and crossed Sixth Avenue +again. As she led the way westward past a long line of areas which, +through the distortion of their paintless rails, revealed with +increasing candour the DISJECTA MEMBRA of bygone dinners, Lily felt +that Rosedale was taking contemptuous note of the neighbourhood; +and before the doorstep at which she finally paused he looked up +with an air of incredulous disgust. + +“This isn’t the place? Some one told me you were living with Miss +Farish.” + +“No: I am boarding here. I have lived too long on my friends.” + +He continued to scan the blistered brown stone front, the windows +draped with discoloured lace, and the Pompeian decoration of the +muddy vestibule; then he looked back at her face and said with a +visible effort: “You’ll let me come and see you some day?” + +She smiled, recognizing the heroism of the offer to the point of +being frankly touched by it. “Thank you—I shall be very glad,” she +made answer, in the first sincere words she had ever spoken to him. + + * * * * * + +That evening in her own room Miss Bart—who had fled early from +the heavy fumes of the basement dinner-table—sat musing upon the +impulse which had led her to unbosom herself to Rosedale. Beneath +it she discovered an increasing sense of loneliness—a dread of +returning to the solitude of her room, while she could be anywhere +else, or in any company but her own. Circumstances, of late, had +combined to cut her off more and more from her few remaining +friends. On Carry Fisher’s part the withdrawal was perhaps not +quite involuntary. Having made her final effort on Lily’s behalf, +and landed her safely in Mme. Regina’s work-room, Mrs. Fisher +seemed disposed to rest from her labours; and Lily, understanding +the reason, could not condemn her. Carry had in fact come +dangerously near to being involved in the episode of Mrs. Norma +Hatch, and it had taken some verbal ingenuity to extricate herself. +She frankly owned to having brought Lily and Mrs. Hatch together, +but then she did not know Mrs. Hatch—she had expressly warned Lily +that she did not know Mrs. Hatch—and besides, she was not Lily’s +keeper, and really the girl was old enough to take care of herself. +Carry did not put her own case so brutally, but she allowed it to +be thus put for her by her latest bosom friend, Mrs. Jack Stepney: +Mrs. Stepney, trembling over the narrowness of her only brother’s +escape, but eager to vindicate Mrs. Fisher, at whose house she +could count on the “jolly parties” which had become a necessity to +her since marriage had emancipated her from the Van Osburgh point +of view. + +Lily understood the situation and could make allowances for it. +Carry had been a good friend to her in difficult days, and perhaps +only a friendship like Gerty’s could be proof against such an +increasing strain. Gerty’s friendship did indeed hold fast; yet +Lily was beginning to avoid her also. For she could not go to +Gerty’s without risk of meeting Selden; and to meet him now would +be pure pain. It was pain enough even to think of him, whether she +considered him in the distinctness of her waking thoughts, or felt +the obsession of his presence through the blur of her tormented +nights. That was one of the reasons why she had turned again to +Mrs. Hatch’s prescription. In the uneasy snatches of her natural +dreams he came to her sometimes in the old guise of fellowship and +tenderness; and she would rise from the sweet delusion mocked and +emptied of her courage. But in the sleep which the phial procured +she sank far below such half-waking visitations, sank into depths +of dreamless annihilation from which she woke each morning with an +obliterated past. + +Gradually, to be sure, the stress of the old thoughts would return; +but at least they did not importune her waking hour. The drug +gave her a momentary illusion of complete renewal, from which she +drew strength to take up her daily work. The strength was more +and more needed as the perplexities of her future increased. She +knew that to Gerty and Mrs. Fisher she was only passing through +a temporary period of probation, since they believed that the +apprenticeship she was serving at Mme. Regina’s would enable her, +when Mrs. Peniston’s legacy was paid, to realize the vision of the +green-and-white shop with the fuller competence acquired by her +preliminary training. But to Lily herself, aware that the legacy +could not be put to such a use, the preliminary training seemed +a wasted effort. She understood clearly enough that, even if she +could ever learn to compete with hands formed from childhood +for their special work, the small pay she received would not be +a sufficient addition to her income to compensate her for such +drudgery. And the realization of this fact brought her recurringly +face to face with the temptation to use the legacy in establishing +her business. Once installed, and in command of her own work-women, +she believed she had sufficient tact and ability to attract a +fashionable CLIENTELE; and if the business succeeded she could +gradually lay aside money enough to discharge her debt to Trenor. +But the task might take years to accomplish, even if she continued +to stint herself to the utmost; and meanwhile her pride would be +crushed under the weight of an intolerable obligation. + +These were her superficial considerations; but under them lurked +the secret dread that the obligation might not always remain +intolerable. She knew she could not count on her continuity of +purpose, and what really frightened her was the thought that she +might gradually accommodate herself to remaining indefinitely +in Trenor’s debt, as she had accommodated herself to the part +allotted her on the Sabrina, and as she had so nearly drifted +into acquiescing with Stancy’s scheme for the advancement of Mrs. +Hatch. Her danger lay, as she knew, in her old incurable dread +of discomfort and poverty; in the fear of that mounting tide of +dinginess against which her mother had so passionately warned her. +And now a new vista of peril opened before her. She understood +that Rosedale was ready to lend her money; and the longing to take +advantage of his offer began to haunt her insidiously. It was of +course impossible to accept a loan from Rosedale; but proximate +possibilities hovered temptingly before her. She was quite sure +that he would come and see her again, and almost sure that, if he +did, she could bring him to the point of offering to marry her on +the terms she had previously rejected. Would she still reject them +if they were offered? More and more, with every fresh mischance +befalling her, did the pursuing furies seem to take the shape of +Bertha Dorset; and close at hand, safely locked among her papers, +lay the means of ending their pursuit. The temptation, which her +scorn of Rosedale had once enabled her to reject, now insistently +returned upon her; and how much strength was left her to oppose it? + +What little there was must at any rate be husbanded to the utmost; +she could not trust herself again to the perils of a sleepless +night. Through the long hours of silence the dark spirit of fatigue +and loneliness crouched upon her breast, leaving her so drained +of bodily strength that her morning thoughts swam in a haze of +weakness. The only hope of renewal lay in the little bottle at her +bed-side; and how much longer that hope would last she dared not +conjecture. + + + + +Chapter 11 + + +Lily, lingering for a moment on the corner, looked out on the +afternoon spectacle of Fifth Avenue. It was a day in late April, +and the sweetness of spring was in the air. It mitigated the +ugliness of the long crowded thoroughfare, blurred the gaunt +roof-lines, threw a mauve veil over the discouraging perspective of +the side streets, and gave a touch of poetry to the delicate haze +of green that marked the entrance to the Park. + +As Lily stood there, she recognized several familiar faces in the +passing carriages. The season was over, and its ruling forces had +disbanded; but a few still lingered, delaying their departure for +Europe, or passing through town on their return from the South. +Among them was Mrs. Van Osburgh, swaying majestically in her +C-spring barouche, with Mrs. Percy Gryce at her side, and the new +heir to the Gryce millions enthroned before them on his nurse’s +knees. They were succeeded by Mrs. Hatch’s electric victoria, in +which that lady reclined in the lonely splendour of a spring toilet +obviously designed for company; and a moment or two later came Judy +Trenor, accompanied by Lady Skiddaw, who had come over for her +annual tarpon fishing and a dip into “the street.” + +This fleeting glimpse of her past served to emphasize the sense +of aimlessness with which Lily at length turned toward home. She +had nothing to do for the rest of the day, nor for the days to +come; for the season was over in millinery as well as in society, +and a week earlier Mme. Regina had notified her that her services +were no longer required. Mme. Regina always reduced her staff on +the first of May, and Miss Bart’s attendance had of late been so +irregular—she had so often been unwell, and had done so little work +when she came—that it was only as a favour that her dismissal had +hitherto been deferred. + +Lily did not question the justice of the decision. She was +conscious of having been forgetful, awkward and slow to learn. It +was bitter to acknowledge her inferiority even to herself, but the +fact had been brought home to her that as a bread-winner she could +never compete with professional ability. Since she had been brought +up to be ornamental, she could hardly blame herself for failing to +serve any practical purpose; but the discovery put an end to her +consoling sense of universal efficiency. + +As she turned homeward her thoughts shrank in anticipation from the +fact that there would be nothing to get up for the next morning. +The luxury of lying late in bed was a pleasure belonging to the +life of ease; it had no part in the utilitarian existence of the +boarding-house. She liked to leave her room early, and to return to +it as late as possible; and she was walking slowly now in order to +postpone the detested approach to her doorstep. + +But the doorstep, as she drew near it, acquired a sudden interest +from the fact that it was occupied—and indeed filled—by the +conspicuous figure of Mr. Rosedale, whose presence seemed to take +on an added amplitude from the meanness of his surroundings. + +The sight stirred Lily with an irresistible sense of triumph. +Rosedale, a day or two after their chance meeting, had called to +enquire if she had recovered from her indisposition; but since +then she had not seen or heard from him, and his absence seemed +to betoken a struggle to keep away, to let her pass once more out +of his life. If this were the case, his return showed that the +struggle had been unsuccessful, for Lily knew he was not the man to +waste his time in an ineffectual sentimental dalliance. He was too +busy, too practical, and above all too much preoccupied with his +own advancement, to indulge in such unprofitable asides. + +In the peacock-blue parlour, with its bunches of dried pampas +grass, and discoloured steel engravings of sentimental episodes, +he looked about him with unconcealed disgust, laying his hat +distrustfully on the dusty console adorned with a Rogers statuette. + +Lily sat down on one of the plush and rosewood sofas, and he +deposited himself in a rocking-chair draped with a starched +antimacassar which scraped unpleasantly against the pink fold of +skin above his collar. + +“My goodness—you can’t go on living here!” he exclaimed. + +Lily smiled at his tone. “I am not sure that I can; but I have gone +over my expenses very carefully, and I rather think I shall be able +to manage it.” + +“Be able to manage it? That’s not what I mean—it’s no place for +you!” + +“It’s what I mean; for I have been out of work for the last week.” + +“Out of work—out of work! What a way for you to talk! The idea +of your having to work—it’s preposterous.” He brought out his +sentences in short violent jerks, as though they were forced up +from a deep inner crater of indignation. “It’s a farce—a crazy +farce,” he repeated, his eyes fixed on the long vista of the room +reflected in the blotched glass between the windows. + +Lily continued to meet his expostulations with a smile. “I don’t +know why I should regard myself as an exception——” she began. + +“Because you ARE; that’s why; and your being in a place like this +is a damnable outrage. I can’t talk of it calmly.” + +She had in truth never seen him so shaken out of his usual +glibness; and there was something almost moving to her in his +inarticulate struggle with his emotions. + +He rose with a start which left the rocking-chair quivering on its +beam ends, and placed himself squarely before her. + +“Look here, Miss Lily, I’m going to Europe next week: going over +to Paris and London for a couple of months—and I can’t leave you +like this. I can’t do it. I know it’s none of my business—you’ve +let me understand that often enough; but things are worse with you +now than they have been before, and you must see that you’ve got to +accept help from somebody. You spoke to me the other day about some +debt to Trenor. I know what you mean—and I respect you for feeling +as you do about it.” + +A blush of surprise rose to Lily’s pale face, but before she could +interrupt him he had continued eagerly: “Well, I’ll lend you the +money to pay Trenor; and I won’t—I—see here, don’t take me up +till I’ve finished. What I mean is, it’ll be a plain business +arrangement, such as one man would make with another. Now, what +have you got to say against that?” + +Lily’s blush deepened to a glow in which humiliation and gratitude +were mingled; and both sentiments revealed themselves in the +unexpected gentleness of her reply. + +“Only this: that it is exactly what Gus Trenor proposed; and that +I can never again be sure of understanding the plainest business +arrangement.” Then, realizing that this answer contained a germ +of injustice, she added, even more kindly: “Not that I don’t +appreciate your kindness—that I’m not grateful for it. But a +business arrangement between us would in any case be impossible, +because I shall have no security to give when my debt to Gus Trenor +has been paid.” + +Rosedale received this statement in silence: he seemed to feel the +note of finality in her voice, yet to be unable to accept it as +closing the question between them. + +In the silence Lily had a clear perception of what was passing +through his mind. Whatever perplexity he felt as to the +inexorableness of her course—however little he penetrated its +motive—she saw that it unmistakably tended to strengthen her hold +over him. It was as though the sense in her of unexplained scruples +and resistances had the same attraction as the delicacy of feature, +the fastidiousness of manner, which gave her an external rarity, +an air of being impossible to match. As he advanced in social +experience this uniqueness had acquired a greater value for him, +as though he were a collector who had learned to distinguish minor +differences of design and quality in some long-coveted object. + +Lily, perceiving all this, understood that he would marry her +at once, on the sole condition of a reconciliation with Mrs. +Dorset; and the temptation was the less easy to put aside because, +little by little, circumstances were breaking down her dislike +for Rosedale. The dislike, indeed, still subsisted; but it was +penetrated here and there by the perception of mitigating qualities +in him: of a certain gross kindliness, a rather helpless fidelity +of sentiment, which seemed to be struggling through the hard +surface of his material ambitions. + +Reading his dismissal in her eyes, he held out his hand with a +gesture which conveyed something of this inarticulate conflict. + +“If you’d only let me, I’d set you up over them all—I’d put you +where you could wipe your feet on ’em!” he declared; and it touched +her oddly to see that his new passion had not altered his old +standard of values. + + * * * * * + +Lily took no sleeping-drops that night. She lay awake viewing her +situation in the crude light which Rosedale’s visit had shed on +it. In fending off the offer he was so plainly ready to renew, had +she not sacrificed to one of those abstract notions of honour that +might be called the conventionalities of the moral life? What debt +did she owe to a social order which had condemned and banished her +without trial? She had never been heard in her own defence; she was +innocent of the charge on which she had been found guilty; and the +irregularity of her conviction might seem to justify the use of +methods as irregular in recovering her lost rights. Bertha Dorset, +to save herself, had not scrupled to ruin her by an open falsehood; +why should she hesitate to make private use of the facts that +chance had put in her way? After all, half the opprobrium of such +an act lies in the name attached to it. Call it blackmail and it +becomes unthinkable; but explain that it injures no one, and that +the rights regained by it were unjustly forfeited, and he must be a +formalist indeed who can find no plea in its defence. + +The arguments pleading for it with Lily were the old unanswerable +ones of the personal situation: the sense of injury, the sense +of failure, the passionate craving for a fair chance against the +selfish despotism of society. She had learned by experience that +she had neither the aptitude nor the moral constancy to remake her +life on new lines; to become a worker among workers, and let the +world of luxury and pleasure sweep by her unregarded. She could not +hold herself much to blame for this ineffectiveness, and she was +perhaps less to blame than she believed. Inherited tendencies had +combined with early training to make her the highly specialized +product she was: an organism as helpless out of its narrow range as +the sea-anemone torn from the rock. She had been fashioned to adorn +and delight; to what other end does nature round the rose-leaf and +paint the humming-bird’s breast? And was it her fault that the +purely decorative mission is less easily and harmoniously fulfilled +among social beings than in the world of nature? That it is apt +to be hampered by material necessities or complicated by moral +scruples? + +These last were the two antagonistic forces which fought out their +battle in her breast during the long watches of the night; and +when she rose the next morning she hardly knew where the victory +lay. She was exhausted by the reaction of a night without sleep, +coming after many nights of rest artificially obtained; and in the +distorting light of fatigue the future stretched out before her +grey, interminable and desolate. + +She lay late in bed, refusing the coffee and fried eggs which the +friendly Irish servant thrust through her door, and hating the +intimate domestic noises of the house and the cries and rumblings +of the street. Her week of idleness had brought home to her with +exaggerated force these small aggravations of the boarding-house +world, and she yearned for that other luxurious world, whose +machinery is so carefully concealed that one scene flows into +another without perceptible agency. + +At length she rose and dressed. Since she had left Mme. Regina’s +she had spent her days in the streets, partly to escape from the +uncongenial promiscuities of the boarding-house, and partly in the +hope that physical fatigue would help her to sleep. But once out of +the house, she could not decide where to go; for she had avoided +Gerty since her dismissal from the milliner’s, and she was not sure +of a welcome anywhere else. + +The morning was in harsh contrast to the previous day. A cold grey +sky threatened rain, and a high wind drove the dust in wild spirals +up and down the streets. Lily walked up Fifth Avenue toward the +Park, hoping to find a sheltered nook where she might sit; but the +wind chilled her, and after an hour’s wandering under the tossing +boughs she yielded to her increasing weariness, and took refuge in +a little restaurant in Fifty-ninth Street. She was not hungry, and +had meant to go without luncheon; but she was too tired to return +home, and the long perspective of white tables showed alluringly +through the windows. + +The room was full of women and girls, all too much engaged in the +rapid absorption of tea and pie to remark her entrance. A hum +of shrill voices reverberated against the low ceiling, leaving +Lily shut out in a little circle of silence. She felt a sudden +pang of profound loneliness. She had lost the sense of time, and +it seemed to her as though she had not spoken to any one for +days. Her eyes sought the faces about her, craving a responsive +glance, some sign of an intuition of her trouble. But the sallow +preoccupied women, with their bags and note-books and rolls of +music, were all engrossed in their own affairs, and even those who +sat by themselves were busy running over proof-sheets or devouring +magazines between their hurried gulps of tea. Lily alone was +stranded in a great waste of disoccupation. + +She drank several cups of the tea which was served with her portion +of stewed oysters, and her brain felt clearer and livelier when +she emerged once more into the street. She realized now that, as +she sat in the restaurant, she had unconsciously arrived at a +final decision. The discovery gave her an immediate illusion of +activity: it was exhilarating to think that she had actually a +reason for hurrying home. To prolong her enjoyment of the sensation +she decided to walk; but the distance was so great that she found +herself glancing nervously at the clocks on the way. One of the +surprises of her unoccupied state was the discovery that time, when +it is left to itself and no definite demands are made on it, cannot +be trusted to move at any recognized pace. Usually it loiters; but +just when one has come to count upon its slowness, it may suddenly +break into a wild irrational gallop. + +She found, however, on reaching home, that the hour was still early +enough for her to sit down and rest a few minutes before putting +her plan into execution. The delay did not perceptibly weaken her +resolve. She was frightened and yet stimulated by the reserved +force of resolution which she felt within herself: she saw it was +going to be easier, a great deal easier, than she had imagined. + +At five o’clock she rose, unlocked her trunk, and took out a +sealed packet which she slipped into the bosom of her dress. Even +the contact with the packet did not shake her nerves as she had +half-expected it would. She seemed encased in a strong armour of +indifference, as though the vigorous exertion of her will had +finally benumbed her finer sensibilities. + +She dressed herself once more for the street, locked her door and +went out. When she emerged on the pavement, the day was still +high, but a threat of rain darkened the sky and cold gusts shook +the signs projecting from the basement shops along the street. She +reached Fifth Avenue and began to walk slowly northward. She was +sufficiently familiar with Mrs. Dorset’s habits to know that she +could always be found at home after five. She might not, indeed, be +accessible to visitors, especially to a visitor so unwelcome, and +against whom it was quite possible that she had guarded herself by +special orders; but Lily had written a note which she meant to send +up with her name, and which she thought would secure her admission. + +She had allowed herself time to walk to Mrs. Dorset’s, thinking +that the quick movement through the cold evening air would help +to steady her nerves; but she really felt no need of being +tranquillized. Her survey of the situation remained calm and +unwavering. + +As she reached Fiftieth Street the clouds broke abruptly, and +a rush of cold rain slanted into her face. She had no umbrella +and the moisture quickly penetrated her thin spring dress. She +was still half a mile from her destination, and she decided to +walk across to Madison Avenue and take the electric car. As she +turned into the side street, a vague memory stirred in her. The +row of budding trees, the new brick and limestone house-fronts, +the Georgian flat-house with flower-boxes on its balconies, were +merged together into the setting of a familiar scene. It was +down this street that she had walked with Selden, that September +day two years ago; a few yards ahead was the doorway they had +entered together. The recollection loosened a throng of benumbed +sensations—longings, regrets, imaginings, the throbbing brood of +the only spring her heart had ever known. It was strange to find +herself passing his house on such an errand. She seemed suddenly +to see her action as he would see it—and the fact of his own +connection with it, the fact that, to attain her end, she must +trade on his name, and profit by a secret of his past, chilled her +blood with shame. What a long way she had travelled since the day +of their first talk together! Even then her feet had been set in +the path she was now following—even then she had resisted the hand +he had held out. + +All her resentment of his fancied coldness was swept away in this +overwhelming rush of recollection. Twice he had been ready to +help her—to help her by loving her, as he had said—and if, the +third time, he had seemed to fail her, whom but herself could she +accuse?... Well, that part of her life was over; she did not know +why her thoughts still clung to it. But the sudden longing to see +him remained; it grew to hunger as she paused on the pavement +opposite his door. The street was dark and empty, swept by the +rain. She had a vision of his quiet room, of the bookshelves, +and the fire on the hearth. She looked up and saw a light in his +window; then she crossed the street and entered the house. + + + + +Chapter 12 + + +The library looked as she had pictured it. The green-shaded lamps +made tranquil circles of light in the gathering dusk, a little fire +flickered on the hearth, and Selden’s easy-chair, which stood near +it, had been pushed aside when he rose to admit her. + +He had checked his first movement of surprise, and stood silent, +waiting for her to speak, while she paused a moment on the +threshold, assailed by a rush of memories. + +The scene was unchanged. She recognized the row of shelves from +which he had taken down his La Bruyere, and the worn arm of the +chair he had leaned against while she examined the precious volume. +But then the wide September light had filled the room, making it +seem a part of the outer world: now the shaded lamps and the warm +hearth, detaching it from the gathering darkness of the street, +gave it a sweeter touch of intimacy. + +Becoming gradually aware of the surprise under Selden’s silence, +Lily turned to him and said simply: “I came to tell you that I was +sorry for the way we parted—for what I said to you that day at Mrs. +Hatch’s.” + +The words rose to her lips spontaneously. Even on her way up +the stairs, she had not thought of preparing a pretext for her +visit, but she now felt an intense longing to dispel the cloud of +misunderstanding that hung between them. + +Selden returned her look with a smile. “I was sorry too that we +should have parted in that way; but I am not sure I didn’t bring it +on myself. Luckily I had foreseen the risk I was taking——” + +“So that you really didn’t care——?” broke from her with a flash of +her old irony. + +“So that I was prepared for the consequences,” he corrected +good-humouredly. “But we’ll talk of all this later. Do come and sit +by the fire. I can recommend that arm-chair, if you’ll let me put a +cushion behind you.” + +While he spoke she had moved slowly to the middle of the room, and +paused near his writing-table, where the lamp, striking upward, +cast exaggerated shadows on the pallor of her delicately-hollowed +face. + +“You look tired—do sit down,” he repeated gently. + +She did not seem to hear the request. “I wanted you to know that I +left Mrs. Hatch immediately after I saw you,” she said, as though +continuing her confession. + +“Yes—yes; I know,” he assented, with a rising tinge of +embarrassment. + +“And that I did so because you told me to. Before you came I had +already begun to see that it would be impossible to remain with +her—for the reasons you gave me; but I wouldn’t admit it—I wouldn’t +let you see that I understood what you meant.” + +“Ah, I might have trusted you to find your own way out—don’t +overwhelm me with the sense of my officiousness!” + +His light tone, in which, had her nerves been steadier, she would +have recognized the mere effort to bridge over an awkward moment, +jarred on her passionate desire to be understood. In her strange +state of extra-lucidity, which gave her the sense of being already +at the heart of the situation, it seemed incredible that any one +should think it necessary to linger in the conventional outskirts +of word-play and evasion. + +“It was not that—I was not ungrateful,” she insisted. But the power +of expression failed her suddenly; she felt a tremor in her throat, +and two tears gathered and fell slowly from her eyes. + +Selden moved forward and took her hand. “You are very tired. Why +won’t you sit down and let me make you comfortable?” + +He drew her to the arm-chair near the fire, and placed a cushion +behind her shoulders. + +“And now you must let me make you some tea: you know I always have +that amount of hospitality at my command.” + +She shook her head, and two more tears ran over. But she did not +weep easily, and the long habit of self-control reasserted itself, +though she was still too tremulous to speak. + +“You know I can coax the water to boil in five minutes,” Selden +continued, speaking as though she were a troubled child. + +His words recalled the vision of that other afternoon when they +had sat together over his tea-table and talked jestingly of her +future. There were moments when that day seemed more remote than +any other event in her life; and yet she could always relive it in +its minutest detail. + +She made a gesture of refusal. “No: I drink too much tea. I would +rather sit quiet—I must go in a moment,” she added confusedly. + +Selden continued to stand near her, leaning against the +mantelpiece. The tinge of constraint was beginning to be more +distinctly perceptible under the friendly ease of his manner. Her +self-absorption had not allowed her to perceive it at first; but +now that her consciousness was once more putting forth its eager +feelers, she saw that her presence was becoming an embarrassment +to him. Such a situation can be saved only by an immediate outrush +of feeling; and on Selden’s side the determining impulse was still +lacking. + +The discovery did not disturb Lily as it might once have done. +She had passed beyond the phase of well-bred reciprocity, in +which every demonstration must be scrupulously proportioned to +the emotion it elicits, and generosity of feeling is the only +ostentation condemned. But the sense of loneliness returned with +redoubled force as she saw herself forever shut out from Selden’s +inmost self. She had come to him with no definite purpose; the mere +longing to see him had directed her; but the secret hope she had +carried with her suddenly revealed itself in its death-pang. + +“I must go,” she repeated, making a motion to rise from her chair. +“But I may not see you again for a long time, and I wanted to +tell you that I have never forgotten the things you said to me at +Bellomont, and that sometimes—sometimes when I seemed farthest from +remembering them—they have helped me, and kept me from mistakes; +kept me from really becoming what many people have thought me.” + +Strive as she would to put some order in her thoughts, the words +would not come more clearly; yet she felt that she could not leave +him without trying to make him understand that she had saved +herself whole from the seeming ruin of her life. + +A change had come over Selden’s face as she spoke. Its guarded look +had yielded to an expression still untinged by personal emotion, +but full of a gentle understanding. + +“I am glad to have you tell me that; but nothing I have said has +really made the difference. The difference is in yourself—it will +always be there. And since it IS there, it can’t really matter +to you what people think: you are so sure that your friends will +always understand you.” + +“Ah, don’t say that—don’t say that what you have told me has made +no difference. It seems to shut me out—to leave me all alone +with the other people.” She had risen and stood before him, once +more completely mastered by the inner urgency of the moment. The +consciousness of his half-divined reluctance had vanished. Whether +he wished it or not, he must see her wholly for once before they +parted. + +Her voice had gathered strength, and she looked him gravely in the +eyes as she continued. “Once—twice—you gave me the chance to escape +from my life, and I refused it: refused it because I was a coward. +Afterward I saw my mistake—I saw I could never be happy with what +had contented me before. But it was too late: you had judged me—I +understood. It was too late for happiness—but not too late to be +helped by the thought of what I had missed. That is all I have +lived on—don’t take it from me now! Even in my worst moments it has +been like a little light in the darkness. Some women are strong +enough to be good by themselves, but I needed the help of your +belief in me. Perhaps I might have resisted a great temptation, but +the little ones would have pulled me down. And then I remembered—I +remembered your saying that such a life could never satisfy me; +and I was ashamed to admit to myself that it could. That is what +you did for me—that is what I wanted to thank you for. I wanted to +tell you that I have always remembered; and that I have tried—tried +hard....” + +She broke off suddenly. Her tears had risen again, and in drawing +out her handkerchief her fingers touched the packet in the folds +of her dress. A wave of colour suffused her, and the words died on +her lips. Then she lifted her eyes to his and went on in an altered +voice. + +“I have tried hard—but life is difficult, and I am a very useless +person. I can hardly be said to have an independent existence. I +was just a screw or a cog in the great machine I called life, and +when I dropped out of it I found I was of no use anywhere else. +What can one do when one finds that one only fits into one hole? +One must get back to it or be thrown out into the rubbish heap—and +you don’t know what it’s like in the rubbish heap!” + +Her lips wavered into a smile—she had been distracted by the +whimsical remembrance of the confidences she had made to him, two +years earlier, in that very room. Then she had been planning to +marry Percy Gryce—what was it she was planning now? + +The blood had risen strongly under Selden’s dark skin, but his +emotion showed itself only in an added seriousness of manner. + +“You have something to tell me—do you mean to marry?” he said +abruptly. + +Lily’s eyes did not falter, but a look of wonder, of puzzled +self-interrogation, formed itself slowly in their depths. In +the light of his question, she had paused to ask herself if her +decision had really been taken when she entered the room. + +“You always told me I should have to come to it sooner or later!” +she said with a faint smile. + +“And you have come to it now?” + +“I shall have to come to it—presently. But there is something else +I must come to first.” She paused again, trying to transmit to her +voice the steadiness of her recovered smile. “There is some one +I must say goodbye to. Oh, not YOU—we are sure to see each other +again—but the Lily Bart you knew. I have kept her with me all this +time, but now we are going to part, and I have brought her back +to you—I am going to leave her here. When I go out presently she +will not go with me. I shall like to think that she has stayed with +you—and she’ll be no trouble, she’ll take up no room.” + +She went toward him, and put out her hand, still smiling. “Will you +let her stay with you?” she asked. + +He caught her hand, and she felt in his the vibration of feeling +that had not yet risen to his lips. “Lily—can’t I help you?” he +exclaimed. + +She looked at him gently. “Do you remember what you said to me +once? That you could help me only by loving me? Well—you did love +me for a moment; and it helped me. It has always helped me. But the +moment is gone—it was I who let it go. And one must go on living. +Goodbye.” + +She laid her other hand on his, and they looked at each other with +a kind of solemnity, as though they stood in the presence of death. +Something in truth lay dead between them—the love she had killed in +him and could no longer call to life. But something lived between +them also, and leaped up in her like an imperishable flame: it was +the love his love had kindled, the passion of her soul for his. + +In its light everything else dwindled and fell away from her. She +understood now that she could not go forth and leave her old self +with him: that self must indeed live on in his presence, but it +must still continue to be hers. + +Selden had retained her hand, and continued to scrutinize her with +a strange sense of foreboding. The external aspect of the situation +had vanished for him as completely as for her: he felt it only as +one of those rare moments which lift the veil from their faces as +they pass. + +“Lily,” he said in a low voice, “you mustn’t speak in this way. I +can’t let you go without knowing what you mean to do. Things may +change—but they don’t pass. You can never go out of my life.” + +She met his eyes with an illumined look. “No,” she said. “I see +that now. Let us always be friends. Then I shall feel safe, +whatever happens.” + +“Whatever happens? What do you mean? What is going to happen?” + +She turned away quietly and walked toward the hearth. + +“Nothing at present—except that I am very cold, and that before I +go you must make up the fire for me.” + +She knelt on the hearth-rug, stretching her hands to the embers. +Puzzled by the sudden change in her tone, he mechanically gathered +a handful of wood from the basket and tossed it on the fire. As he +did so, he noticed how thin her hands looked against the rising +light of the flames. He saw too, under the loose lines of her +dress, how the curves of her figure had shrunk to angularity; he +remembered long afterward how the red play of the flame sharpened +the depression of her nostrils, and intensified the blackness of +the shadows which struck up from her cheekbones to her eyes. She +knelt there for a few moments in silence; a silence which he dared +not break. When she rose he fancied that he saw her draw something +from her dress and drop it into the fire; but he hardly noticed +the gesture at the time. His faculties seemed tranced, and he was +still groping for the word to break the spell. She went up to him +and laid her hands on his shoulders. “Goodbye,” she said, and as he +bent over her she touched his forehead with her lips. + + + + +Chapter 13 + + +The street-lamps were lit, but the rain had ceased, and there was +a momentary revival of light in the upper sky. Lily walked on +unconscious of her surroundings. She was still treading the buoyant +ether which emanates from the high moments of life. But gradually +it shrank away from her and she felt the dull pavement beneath +her feet. The sense of weariness returned with accumulated force, +and for a moment she felt that she could walk no farther. She had +reached the corner of Forty-first Street and Fifth Avenue, and she +remembered that in Bryant Park there were seats where she might +rest. + +That melancholy pleasure-ground was almost deserted when she +entered it, and she sank down on an empty bench in the glare of +an electric street-lamp. The warmth of the fire had passed out of +her veins, and she told herself that she must not sit long in the +penetrating dampness which struck up from the wet asphalt. But her +will-power seemed to have spent itself in a last great effort, and +she was lost in the blank reaction which follows on an unwonted +expenditure of energy. And besides, what was there to go home to? +Nothing but the silence of her cheerless room—that silence of the +night which may be more racking to tired nerves than the most +discordant noises: that, and the bottle of chloral by her bed. +The thought of the chloral was the only spot of light in the dark +prospect: she could feel its lulling influence stealing over her +already. But she was troubled by the thought that it was losing +its power—she dared not go back to it too soon. Of late the sleep +it had brought her had been more broken and less profound; there +had been nights when she was perpetually floating up through it +to consciousness. What if the effect of the drug should gradually +fail, as all narcotics were said to fail? She remembered the +chemist’s warning against increasing the dose; and she had heard +before of the capricious and incalculable action of the drug. Her +dread of returning to a sleepless night was so great that she +lingered on, hoping that excessive weariness would reinforce the +waning power of the chloral. + +Night had now closed in, and the roar of traffic in Forty-second +Street was dying out. As complete darkness fell on the square the +lingering occupants of the benches rose and dispersed; but now and +then a stray figure, hurrying homeward, struck across the path +where Lily sat, looming black for a moment in the white circle of +electric light. One or two of these passers-by slackened their +pace to glance curiously at her lonely figure; but she was hardly +conscious of their scrutiny. + +Suddenly, however, she became aware that one of the passing shadows +remained stationary between her line of vision and the gleaming +asphalt; and raising her eyes she saw a young woman bending over +her. + +“Excuse me—are you sick?—Why, it’s Miss Bart!” a half-familiar +voice exclaimed. + +Lily looked up. The speaker was a poorly-dressed young woman +with a bundle under her arm. Her face had the air of unwholesome +refinement which ill-health and over-work may produce, but its +common prettiness was redeemed by the strong and generous curve of +the lips. + +“You don’t remember me,” she continued, brightening with the +pleasure of recognition, “but I’d know you anywhere, I’ve thought +of you such a lot. I guess my folks all know your name by heart. +I was one of the girls at Miss Farish’s club—you helped me to go +to the country that time I had lung-trouble. My name’s Nettie +Struther. It was Nettie Crane then—but I daresay you don’t remember +that either.” + +Yes: Lily was beginning to remember. The episode of Nettie Crane’s +timely rescue from disease had been one of the most satisfying +incidents of her connection with Gerty’s charitable work. She had +furnished the girl with the means to go to a sanatorium in the +mountains: it struck her now with a peculiar irony that the money +she had used had been Gus Trenor’s. + +She tried to reply, to assure the speaker that she had not +forgotten; but her voice failed in the effort, and she felt herself +sinking under a great wave of physical weakness. Nettie Struther, +with a startled exclamation, sat down and slipped a shabbily-clad +arm behind her back. + +“Why, Miss Bart, you ARE sick. Just lean on me a little till you +feel better.” + +A faint glow of returning strength seemed to pass into Lily from +the pressure of the supporting arm. + +“I’m only tired—it is nothing,” she found voice to say in a moment; +and then, as she met the timid appeal of her companion’s eyes, she +added involuntarily: “I have been unhappy—in great trouble.” + +“YOU in trouble? I’ve always thought of you as being so high up, +where everything was just grand. Sometimes, when I felt real mean, +and got to wondering why things were so queerly fixed in the world, +I used to remember that you were having a lovely time, anyhow, and +that seemed to show there was a kind of justice somewhere. But +you mustn’t sit here too long—it’s fearfully damp. Don’t you feel +strong enough to walk on a little ways now?” she broke off. + +“Yes—yes; I must go home,” Lily murmured, rising. + +Her eyes rested wonderingly on the thin shabby figure at her side. +She had known Nettie Crane as one of the discouraged victims of +over-work and anaemic parentage: one of the superfluous fragments +of life destined to be swept prematurely into that social +refuse-heap of which Lily had so lately expressed her dread. But +Nettie Struther’s frail envelope was now alive with hope and +energy: whatever fate the future reserved for her, she would not be +cast into the refuse-heap without a struggle. + +“I am very glad to have seen you,” Lily continued, summoning a +smile to her unsteady lips. “It’ll be my turn to think of you as +happy—and the world will seem a less unjust place to me too.” + +“Oh, but I can’t leave you like this—you’re not fit to go home +alone. And I can’t go with you either!” Nettie Struther wailed +with a start of recollection. “You see, it’s my husband’s +night-shift—he’s a motor-man—and the friend I leave the baby with +has to step upstairs to get HER husband’s supper at seven. I didn’t +tell you I had a baby, did I? She’ll be four months old day after +tomorrow, and to look at her you wouldn’t think I’d ever had a sick +day. I’d give anything to show you the baby, Miss Bart, and we live +right down the street here—it’s only three blocks off.” She lifted +her eyes tentatively to Lily’s face, and then added with a burst +of courage: “Why won’t you get right into the cars and come home +with me while I get baby’s supper? It’s real warm in our kitchen, +and you can rest there, and I’ll take YOU home as soon as ever she +drops off to sleep.” + +It WAS warm in the kitchen, which, when Nettie Struther’s match had +made a flame leap from the gas-jet above the table, revealed itself +to Lily as extraordinarily small and almost miraculously clean. A +fire shone through the polished flanks of the iron stove, and near +it stood a crib in which a baby was sitting upright, with incipient +anxiety struggling for expression on a countenance still placid +with sleep. + +Having passionately celebrated her reunion with her offspring, and +excused herself in cryptic language for the lateness of her return, +Nettie restored the baby to the crib and shyly invited Miss Bart to +the rocking-chair near the stove. + +“We’ve got a parlour too,” she explained with pardonable pride; +“but I guess it’s warmer in here, and I don’t want to leave you +alone while I’m getting baby’s supper.” + +On receiving Lily’s assurance that she much preferred the friendly +proximity of the kitchen fire, Mrs. Struther proceeded to prepare a +bottle of infantile food, which she tenderly applied to the baby’s +impatient lips; and while the ensuing degustation went on, she +seated herself with a beaming countenance beside her visitor. + +“You’re sure you won’t let me warm up a drop of coffee for you, +Miss Bart? There’s some of baby’s fresh milk left over—well, +maybe you’d rather just sit quiet and rest a little while. It’s +too lovely having you here. I’ve thought of it so often that I +can’t believe it’s really come true. I’ve said to George again +and again: ‘I just wish Miss Bart could see me NOW—’ and I used +to watch for your name in the papers, and we’d talk over what you +were doing, and read the descriptions of the dresses you wore. I +haven’t seen your name for a long time, though, and I began to be +afraid you were sick, and it worried me so that George said I’d get +sick myself, fretting about it.” Her lips broke into a reminiscent +smile. “Well, I can’t afford to be sick again, that’s a fact: the +last spell nearly finished me. When you sent me off that time I +never thought I’d come back alive, and I didn’t much care if I did. +You see I didn’t know about George and the baby then.” + +She paused to readjust the bottle to the child’s bubbling mouth. + +“You precious—don’t you be in too much of a hurry! Was it mad with +mommer for getting its supper so late? Marry Anto’nette—that’s what +we call her: after the French queen in that play at the Garden—I +told George the actress reminded me of you, and that made me fancy +the name.... I never thought I’d get married, you know, and I’d +never have had the heart to go on working just for myself.” + +She broke off again, and meeting the encouragement in Lily’s eyes, +went on, with a flush rising under her anaemic skin: “You see I +wasn’t only just SICK that time you sent me off—I was dreadfully +unhappy too. I’d known a gentleman where I was employed—I don’t +know as you remember I did type-writing in a big importing +firm—and—well—I thought we were to be married: he’d gone steady +with me six months and given me his mother’s wedding ring. But I +presume he was too stylish for me—he travelled for the firm, and +had seen a great deal of society. Work girls aren’t looked after +the way you are, and they don’t always know how to look after +themselves. I didn’t . . . and it pretty near killed me when he +went away and left off writing.... + +“It was then I came down sick—I thought it was the end of +everything. I guess it would have been if you hadn’t sent me off. +But when I found I was getting well I began to take heart in spite +of myself. And then, when I got back home, George came round and +asked me to marry him. At first I thought I couldn’t, because we’d +been brought up together, and I knew he knew about me. But after a +while I began to see that that made it easier. I never could have +told another man, and I’d never have married without telling; but +if George cared for me enough to have me as I was, I didn’t see why +I shouldn’t begin over again—and I did.” + +The strength of the victory shone forth from her as she lifted +her irradiated face from the child on her knees. “But, mercy, I +didn’t mean to go on like this about myself, with you sitting there +looking so fagged out. Only it’s so lovely having you here, and +letting you see just how you’ve helped me.” The baby had sunk back +blissfully replete, and Mrs. Struther softly rose to lay the bottle +aside. Then she paused before Miss Bart. + +“I only wish I could help YOU—but I suppose there’s nothing on +earth I could do,” she murmured wistfully. + +Lily, instead of answering, rose with a smile and held out her +arms; and the mother, understanding the gesture, laid her child in +them. + +The baby, feeling herself detached from her habitual anchorage, +made an instinctive motion of resistance; but the soothing +influences of digestion prevailed, and Lily felt the soft weight +sink trustfully against her breast. The child’s confidence in its +safety thrilled her with a sense of warmth and returning life, and +she bent over, wondering at the rosy blur of the little face, the +empty clearness of the eyes, the vague tendrilly motions of the +folding and unfolding fingers. At first the burden in her arms +seemed as light as a pink cloud or a heap of down, but as she +continued to hold it the weight increased, sinking deeper, and +penetrating her with a strange sense of weakness, as though the +child entered into her and became a part of herself. + +She looked up, and saw Nettie’s eyes resting on her with tenderness +and exultation. + +“Wouldn’t it be too lovely for anything if she could grow up to be +just like you? Of course I know she never COULD—but mothers are +always dreaming the craziest things for their children.” + +Lily clasped the child close for a moment and laid her back in her +mother’s arms. + +“Oh, she must not do that—I should be afraid to come and see +her too often!” she said with a smile; and then, resisting Mrs. +Struther’s anxious offer of companionship, and reiterating the +promise that of course she would come back soon, and make George’s +acquaintance, and see the baby in her bath, she passed out of the +kitchen and went alone down the tenement stairs. + + * * * * * + +As she reached the street she realized that she felt stronger +and happier: the little episode had done her good. It was the +first time she had ever come across the results of her spasmodic +benevolence, and the surprised sense of human fellowship took the +mortal chill from her heart. + +It was not till she entered her own door that she felt the reaction +of a deeper loneliness. It was long after seven o’clock, and the +light and odours proceeding from the basement made it manifest that +the boarding-house dinner had begun. She hastened up to her room, +lit the gas, and began to dress. She did not mean to pamper herself +any longer, to go without food because her surroundings made it +unpalatable. Since it was her fate to live in a boarding-house, she +must learn to fall in with the conditions of the life. Nevertheless +she was glad that, when she descended to the heat and glare of the +dining-room, the repast was nearly over. + + * * * * * + +In her own room again, she was seized with a sudden fever of +activity. For weeks past she had been too listless and indifferent +to set her possessions in order, but now she began to examine +systematically the contents of her drawers and cupboard. She had a +few handsome dresses left—survivals of her last phase of splendour, +on the Sabrina and in London—but when she had been obliged to +part with her maid she had given the woman a generous share of +her cast-off apparel. The remaining dresses, though they had lost +their freshness, still kept the long unerring lines, the sweep +and amplitude of the great artist’s stroke, and as she spread +them out on the bed the scenes in which they had been worn rose +vividly before her. An association lurked in every fold: each fall +of lace and gleam of embroidery was like a letter in the record +of her past. She was startled to find how the atmosphere of her +old life enveloped her. But, after all, it was the life she had +been made for: every dawning tendency in her had been carefully +directed toward it, all her interests and activities had been +taught to centre around it. She was like some rare flower grown for +exhibition, a flower from which every bud had been nipped except +the crowning blossom of her beauty. + +Last of all, she drew forth from the bottom of her trunk a heap +of white drapery which fell shapelessly across her arm. It was +the Reynolds dress she had worn in the Bry TABLEAUX. It had been +impossible for her to give it away, but she had never seen it since +that night, and the long flexible folds, as she shook them out, +gave forth an odour of violets which came to her like a breath +from the flower-edged fountain where she had stood with Lawrence +Selden and disowned her fate. She put back the dresses one by one, +laying away with each some gleam of light, some note of laughter, +some stray waft from the rosy shores of pleasure. She was still in +a state of highly-wrought impressionability, and every hint of the +past sent a lingering tremor along her nerves. + +She had just closed her trunk on the white folds of the Reynolds +dress when she heard a tap at her door, and the red fist of the +Irish maid-servant thrust in a belated letter. Carrying it to the +light, Lily read with surprise the address stamped on the upper +corner of the envelope. It was a business communication from the +office of her aunt’s executors, and she wondered what unexpected +development had caused them to break silence before the appointed +time. She opened the envelope and a cheque fluttered to the floor. +As she stooped to pick it up the blood rushed to her face. The +cheque represented the full amount of Mrs. Peniston’s legacy, and +the letter accompanying it explained that the executors, having +adjusted the business of the estate with less delay than they had +expected, had decided to anticipate the date fixed for the payment +of the bequests. + +Lily sat down beside the desk at the foot of her bed, and spreading +out the cheque, read over and over the TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS written +across it in a steely business hand. Ten months earlier the amount +it stood for had represented the depths of penury; but her standard +of values had changed in the interval, and now visions of wealth +lurked in every flourish of the pen. As she continued to gaze at +it, she felt the glitter of the visions mounting to her brain, +and after a while she lifted the lid of the desk and slipped the +magic formula out of sight. It was easier to think without those +five figures dancing before her eyes; and she had a great deal of +thinking to do before she slept. + +She opened her cheque-book, and plunged into such anxious +calculations as had prolonged her vigil at Bellomont on the night +when she had decided to marry Percy Gryce. Poverty simplifies +book-keeping, and her financial situation was easier to ascertain +than it had been then; but she had not yet learned the control of +money, and during her transient phase of luxury at the Emporium she +had slipped back into habits of extravagance which still impaired +her slender balance. A careful examination of her cheque-book, and +of the unpaid bills in her desk, showed that, when the latter had +been settled, she would have barely enough to live on for the next +three or four months; and even after that, if she were to continue +her present way of living, without earning any additional money, +all incidental expenses must be reduced to the vanishing point. +She hid her eyes with a shudder, beholding herself at the entrance +of that ever-narrowing perspective down which she had seen Miss +Silverton’s dowdy figure take its despondent way. + +It was no longer, however, from the vision of material poverty that +she turned with the greatest shrinking. She had a sense of deeper +empoverishment—of an inner destitution compared to which outward +conditions dwindled into insignificance. It was indeed miserable to +be poor—to look forward to a shabby, anxious middle-age, leading +by dreary degrees of economy and self-denial to gradual absorption +in the dingy communal existence of the boarding-house. But there +was something more miserable still—it was the clutch of solitude at +her heart, the sense of being swept like a stray uprooted growth +down the heedless current of the years. That was the feeling which +possessed her now—the feeling of being something rootless and +ephemeral, mere spin-drift of the whirling surface of existence, +without anything to which the poor little tentacles of self could +cling before the awful flood submerged them. And as she looked +back she saw that there had never been a time when she had had any +real relation to life. Her parents too had been rootless, blown +hither and thither on every wind of fashion, without any personal +existence to shelter them from its shifting gusts. She herself had +grown up without any one spot of earth being dearer to her than +another: there was no centre of early pieties, of grave endearing +traditions, to which her heart could revert and from which it could +draw strength for itself and tenderness for others. In whatever +form a slowly-accumulated past lives in the blood—whether in the +concrete image of the old house stored with visual memories, or +in the conception of the house not built with hands, but made +up of inherited passions and loyalties—it has the same power of +broadening and deepening the individual existence, of attaching +it by mysterious links of kinship to all the mighty sum of human +striving. + +Such a vision of the solidarity of life had never before come to +Lily. She had had a premonition of it in the blind motions of her +mating-instinct; but they had been checked by the disintegrating +influences of the life about her. All the men and women she +knew were like atoms whirling away from each other in some wild +centrifugal dance: her first glimpse of the continuity of life had +come to her that evening in Nettie Struther’s kitchen. + +The poor little working-girl who had found strength to gather up +the fragments of her life, and build herself a shelter with them, +seemed to Lily to have reached the central truth of existence. It +was a meagre enough life, on the grim edge of poverty, with scant +margin for possibilities of sickness or mischance, but it had the +frail audacious permanence of a bird’s nest built on the edge of a +cliff—a mere wisp of leaves and straw, yet so put together that the +lives entrusted to it may hang safely over the abyss. + +Yes—but it had taken two to build the nest; the man’s faith as well +as the woman’s courage. Lily remembered Nettie’s words: I KNEW HE +KNEW ABOUT ME. Her husband’s faith in her had made her renewal +possible—it is so easy for a woman to become what the man she loves +believes her to be! Well—Selden had twice been ready to stake his +faith on Lily Bart; but the third trial had been too severe for +his endurance. The very quality of his love had made it the more +impossible to recall to life. If it had been a simple instinct of +the blood, the power of her beauty might have revived it. But the +fact that it struck deeper, that it was inextricably wound up with +inherited habits of thought and feeling, made it as impossible to +restore to growth as a deep-rooted plant torn from its bed. Selden +had given her of his best; but he was as incapable as herself of an +uncritical return to former states of feeling. + +There remained to her, as she had told him, the uplifting memory +of his faith in her; but she had not reached the age when a woman +can live on her memories. As she held Nettie Struther’s child in +her arms the frozen currents of youth had loosed themselves and +run warm in her veins: the old life-hunger possessed her, and all +her being clamoured for its share of personal happiness. Yes—it +was happiness she still wanted, and the glimpse she had caught of +it made everything else of no account. One by one she had detached +herself from the baser possibilities, and she saw that nothing now +remained to her but the emptiness of renunciation. + +It was growing late, and an immense weariness once more possessed +her. It was not the stealing sense of sleep, but a vivid wakeful +fatigue, a wan lucidity of mind against which all the possibilities +of the future were shadowed forth gigantically. She was appalled +by the intense cleanness of the vision; she seemed to have broken +through the merciful veil which intervenes between intention and +action, and to see exactly what she would do in all the long +days to come. There was the cheque in her desk, for instance—she +meant to use it in paying her debt to Trenor; but she foresaw +that when the morning came she would put off doing so, would slip +into gradual tolerance of the debt. The thought terrified her—she +dreaded to fall from the height of her last moment with Lawrence +Selden. But how could she trust herself to keep her footing? +She knew the strength of the opposing impulses—she could feel +the countless hands of habit dragging her back into some fresh +compromise with fate. She felt an intense longing to prolong, +to perpetuate, the momentary exaltation of her spirit. If only +life could end now—end on this tragic yet sweet vision of lost +possibilities, which gave her a sense of kinship with all the +loving and foregoing in the world! + +She reached out suddenly and, drawing the cheque from her +writing-desk, enclosed it in an envelope which she addressed to +her bank. She then wrote out a cheque for Trenor, and placing it, +without an accompanying word, in an envelope inscribed with his +name, laid the two letters side by side on her desk. After that +she continued to sit at the table, sorting her papers and writing, +till the intense silence of the house reminded her of the lateness +of the hour. In the street the noise of wheels had ceased, and +the rumble of the “elevated” came only at long intervals through +the deep unnatural hush. In the mysterious nocturnal separation +from all outward signs of life, she felt herself more strangely +confronted with her fate. The sensation made her brain reel, +and she tried to shut out consciousness by pressing her hands +against her eyes. But the terrible silence and emptiness seemed to +symbolize her future—she felt as though the house, the street, the +world were all empty, and she alone left sentient in a lifeless +universe. + +But this was the verge of delirium . . . she had never hung so +near the dizzy brink of the unreal. Sleep was what she wanted—she +remembered that she had not closed her eyes for two nights. The +little bottle was at her bed-side, waiting to lay its spell upon +her. She rose and undressed hastily, hungering now for the touch of +her pillow. She felt so profoundly tired that she thought she must +fall asleep at once; but as soon as she had lain down every nerve +started once more into separate wakefulness. It was as though a +great blaze of electric light had been turned on in her head, and +her poor little anguished self shrank and cowered in it, without +knowing where to take refuge. + +She had not imagined that such a multiplication of wakefulness +was possible: her whole past was reenacting itself at a hundred +different points of consciousness. Where was the drug that could +still this legion of insurgent nerves? The sense of exhaustion +would have been sweet compared to this shrill beat of activities; +but weariness had dropped from her as though some cruel stimulant +had been forced into her veins. + +She could bear it—yes, she could bear it; but what strength would +be left her the next day? Perspective had disappeared—the next day +pressed close upon her, and on its heels came the days that were to +follow—they swarmed about her like a shrieking mob. She must shut +them out for a few hours; she must take a brief bath of oblivion. +She put out her hand, and measured the soothing drops into a glass; +but as she did so, she knew they would be powerless against the +supernatural lucidity of her brain. She had long since raised the +dose to its highest limit, but tonight she felt she must increase +it. She knew she took a slight risk in doing so—she remembered +the chemist’s warning. If sleep came at all, it might be a sleep +without waking. But after all that was but one chance in a hundred: +the action of the drug was incalculable, and the addition of a few +drops to the regular dose would probably do no more than procure +for her the rest she so desperately needed.... + +She did not, in truth, consider the question very closely—the +physical craving for sleep was her only sustained sensation. Her +mind shrank from the glare of thought as instinctively as eyes +contract in a blaze of light—darkness, darkness was what she must +have at any cost. She raised herself in bed and swallowed the +contents of the glass; then she blew out her candle and lay down. + +She lay very still, waiting with a sensuous pleasure for the first +effects of the soporific. She knew in advance what form they would +take—the gradual cessation of the inner throb, the soft approach +of passiveness, as though an invisible hand made magic passes over +her in the darkness. The very slowness and hesitancy of the effect +increased its fascination: it was delicious to lean over and look +down into the dim abysses of unconsciousness. Tonight the drug +seemed to work more slowly than usual: each passionate pulse had to +be stilled in turn, and it was long before she felt them dropping +into abeyance, like sentinels falling asleep at their posts. But +gradually the sense of complete subjugation came over her, and she +wondered languidly what had made her feel so uneasy and excited. +She saw now that there was nothing to be excited about—she had +returned to her normal view of life. Tomorrow would not be so +difficult after all: she felt sure that she would have the strength +to meet it. She did not quite remember what it was that she had +been afraid to meet, but the uncertainty no longer troubled her. +She had been unhappy, and now she was happy—she had felt herself +alone, and now the sense of loneliness had vanished. + +She stirred once, and turned on her side, and as she did so, she +suddenly understood why she did not feel herself alone. It was +odd—but Nettie Struther’s child was lying on her arm: she felt +the pressure of its little head against her shoulder. She did not +know how it had come there, but she felt no great surprise at the +fact, only a gentle penetrating thrill of warmth and pleasure. +She settled herself into an easier position, hollowing her arm to +pillow the round downy head, and holding her breath lest a sound +should disturb the sleeping child. + +As she lay there she said to herself that there was something she +must tell Selden, some word she had found that should make life +clear between them. She tried to repeat the word, which lingered +vague and luminous on the far edge of thought—she was afraid of not +remembering it when she woke; and if she could only remember it and +say it to him, she felt that everything would be well. + +Slowly the thought of the word faded, and sleep began to enfold +her. She struggled faintly against it, feeling that she ought +to keep awake on account of the baby; but even this feeling was +gradually lost in an indistinct sense of drowsy peace, through +which, of a sudden, a dark flash of loneliness and terror tore its +way. + +She started up again, cold and trembling with the shock: for a +moment she seemed to have lost her hold of the child. But no—she +was mistaken—the tender pressure of its body was still close to +hers: the recovered warmth flowed through her once more, she +yielded to it, sank into it, and slept. + + + + +Chapter 14 + + +The next morning rose mild and bright, with a promise of summer +in the air. The sunlight slanted joyously down Lily’s street, +mellowed the blistered house-front, gilded the paintless railings +of the doorstep, and struck prismatic glories from the panes of her +darkened window. + +When such a day coincides with the inner mood there is intoxication +in its breath; and Selden, hastening along the street through the +squalor of its morning confidences, felt himself thrilling with a +youthful sense of adventure. He had cut loose from the familiar +shores of habit, and launched himself on uncharted seas of emotion; +all the old tests and measures were left behind, and his course was +to be shaped by new stars. + +That course, for the moment, led merely to Miss Bart’s +boarding-house; but its shabby doorstep had suddenly become the +threshold of the untried. As he approached he looked up at the +triple row of windows, wondering boyishly which one of them +was hers. It was nine o’clock, and the house, being tenanted +by workers, already showed an awakened front to the street. He +remembered afterward having noticed that only one blind was down. +He noticed too that there was a pot of pansies on one of the window +sills, and at once concluded that the window must be hers: it was +inevitable that he should connect her with the one touch of beauty +in the dingy scene. + +Nine o’clock was an early hour for a visit, but Selden had passed +beyond all such conventional observances. He only knew that he must +see Lily Bart at once—he had found the word he meant to say to her, +and it could not wait another moment to be said. It was strange +that it had not come to his lips sooner—that he had let her pass +from him the evening before without being able to speak it. But +what did that matter, now that a new day had come? It was not a +word for twilight, but for the morning. + +Selden ran eagerly up the steps and pulled the bell; and even in +his state of self-absorption it came as a sharp surprise to him +that the door should open so promptly. It was still more of a +surprise to see, as he entered, that it had been opened by Gerty +Farish—and that behind her, in an agitated blur, several other +figures ominously loomed. + +“Lawrence!” Gerty cried in a strange voice, “how could you get +here so quickly?”—and the trembling hand she laid on him seemed +instantly to close about his heart. + +He noticed the other faces, vague with fear and conjecture—he saw +the landlady’s imposing bulk sway professionally toward him; but +he shrank back, putting up his hand, while his eyes mechanically +mounted the steep black walnut stairs, up which he was immediately +aware that his cousin was about to lead him. + +A voice in the background said that the doctor might be back at any +minute—and that nothing, upstairs, was to be disturbed. Some one +else exclaimed: “It was the greatest mercy—” then Selden felt that +Gerty had taken him gently by the hand, and that they were to be +suffered to go up alone. + +In silence they mounted the three flights, and walked along the +passage to a closed door. Gerty opened the door, and Selden went +in after her. Though the blind was down, the irresistible sunlight +poured a tempered golden flood into the room, and in its light +Selden saw a narrow bed along the wall, and on the bed, with +motionless hands and calm unrecognizing face, the semblance of Lily +Bart. + +That it was her real self, every pulse in him ardently denied. Her +real self had lain warm on his heart but a few hours earlier—what +had he to do with this estranged and tranquil face which, for the +first time, neither paled nor brightened at his coming? + +Gerty, strangely tranquil too, with the conscious self-control of +one who has ministered to much pain, stood by the bed, speaking +gently, as if transmitting a final message. + +“The doctor found a bottle of chloral—she had been sleeping badly +for a long time, and she must have taken an overdose by mistake.... +There is no doubt of that—no doubt—there will be no question—he has +been very kind. I told him that you and I would like to be left +alone with her—to go over her things before any one else comes. I +know it is what she would have wished.” + +Selden was hardly conscious of what she said. He stood looking down +on the sleeping face which seemed to lie like a delicate impalpable +mask over the living lineaments he had known. He felt that the real +Lily was still there, close to him, yet invisible and inaccessible; +and the tenuity of the barrier between them mocked him with a sense +of helplessness. There had never been more than a little impalpable +barrier between them—and yet he had suffered it to keep them apart! +And now, though it seemed slighter and frailer than ever, it had +suddenly hardened to adamant, and he might beat his life out +against it in vain. + +He had dropped on his knees beside the bed, but a touch from Gerty +aroused him. He stood up, and as their eyes met he was struck by +the extraordinary light in his cousin’s face. + +“You understand what the doctor has gone for? He has promised that +there shall be no trouble—but of course the formalities must be +gone through. And I asked him to give us time to look through her +things first——” + +He nodded, and she glanced about the small bare room. “It won’t +take long,” she concluded. + +“No—it won’t take long,” he agreed. + +She held his hand in hers a moment longer, and then, with a last +look at the bed, moved silently toward the door. On the threshold +she paused to add: “You will find me downstairs if you want me.” + +Selden roused himself to detain her. “But why are you going? She +would have wished——” + +Gerty shook her head with a smile. “No: this is what she would have +wished——” and as she spoke a light broke through Selden’s stony +misery, and he saw deep into the hidden things of love. + +The door closed on Gerty, and he stood alone with the motionless +sleeper on the bed. His impulse was to return to her side, to fall +on his knees, and rest his throbbing head against the peaceful +cheek on the pillow. They had never been at peace together, they +two; and now he felt himself drawn downward into the strange +mysterious depths of her tranquillity. + +But he remembered Gerty’s warning words—he knew that, though time +had ceased in this room, its feet were hastening relentlessly +toward the door. Gerty had given him this supreme half hour, and he +must use it as she willed. + +He turned and looked about him, sternly compelling himself to +regain his consciousness of outward things. There was very little +furniture in the room. The shabby chest of drawers was spread +with a lace cover, and set out with a few gold-topped boxes and +bottles, a rose-coloured pin-cushion, a glass tray strewn with +tortoise-shell hair-pins—he shrank from the poignant intimacy of +these trifles, and from the blank surface of the toilet-mirror +above them. + +These were the only traces of luxury, of that clinging to the +minute observance of personal seemliness, which showed what her +other renunciations must have cost. There was no other token +of her personality about the room, unless it showed itself in +the scrupulous neatness of the scant articles of furniture: a +washing-stand, two chairs, a small writing-desk, and the little +table near the bed. On this table stood the empty bottle and glass, +and from these also he averted his eyes. + +The desk was closed, but on its slanting lid lay two letters which +he took up. One bore the address of a bank, and as it was stamped +and sealed, Selden, after a moment’s hesitation, laid it aside. On +the other letter he read Gus Trenor’s name; and the flap of the +envelope was still ungummed. + +Temptation leapt on him like the stab of a knife. He staggered +under it, steadying himself against the desk. Why had she been +writing to Trenor—writing, presumably, just after their parting +of the previous evening? The thought unhallowed the memory of +that last hour, made a mock of the word he had come to speak, and +defiled even the reconciling silence upon which it fell. He felt +himself flung back on all the ugly uncertainties from which he +thought he had cast loose forever. After all, what did he know of +her life? Only as much as she had chosen to show him, and measured +by the world’s estimate, how little that was! By what right—the +letter in his hand seemed to ask—by what right was it he who now +passed into her confidence through the gate which death had left +unbarred? His heart cried out that it was by right of their last +hour together, the hour when she herself had placed the key in +his hand. Yes—but what if the letter to Trenor had been written +afterward? + +He put it from him with sudden loathing, and setting his lips, +addressed himself resolutely to what remained of his task. After +all, that task would be easier to perform, now that his personal +stake in it was annulled. + +He raised the lid of the desk, and saw within it a cheque-book +and a few packets of bills and letters, arranged with the orderly +precision which characterized all her personal habits. He looked +through the letters first, because it was the most difficult part +of the work. They proved to be few and unimportant, but among them +he found, with a strange commotion of the heart, the note he had +written her the day after the Brys’ entertainment. + +“When may I come to you?”—his words overwhelmed him with a +realization of the cowardice which had driven him from her at the +very moment of attainment. Yes—he had always feared his fate, and +he was too honest to disown his cowardice now; for had not all his +old doubts started to life again at the mere sight of Trenor’s name? + +He laid the note in his card-case, folding it away carefully, as +something made precious by the fact that she had held it so; then, +growing once more aware of the lapse of time, he continued his +examination of the papers. + +To his surprise, he found that all the bills were receipted; there +was not an unpaid account among them. He opened the cheque-book, +and saw that, the very night before, a cheque of ten thousand +dollars from Mrs. Peniston’s executors had been entered in it. +The legacy, then, had been paid sooner than Gerty had led him +to expect. But, turning another page or two, he discovered with +astonishment that, in spite of this recent accession of funds, the +balance had already declined to a few dollars. A rapid glance at +the stubs of the last cheques, all of which bore the date of the +previous day, showed that between four or five hundred dollars of +the legacy had been spent in the settlement of bills, while the +remaining thousands were comprehended in one cheque, made out, at +the same time, to Charles Augustus Trenor. + +Selden laid the book aside, and sank into the chair beside the +desk. He leaned his elbows on it, and hid his face in his hands. +The bitter waters of life surged high about him, their sterile +taste was on his lips. Did the cheque to Trenor explain the mystery +or deepen it? At first his mind refused to act—he felt only the +taint of such a transaction between a man like Trenor and a girl +like Lily Bart. Then, gradually, his troubled vision cleared, +old hints and rumours came back to him, and out of the very +insinuations he had feared to probe, he constructed an explanation +of the mystery. It was true, then, that she had taken money from +Trenor; but true also, as the contents of the little desk declared, +that the obligation had been intolerable to her, and that at the +first opportunity she had freed herself from it, though the act +left her face to face with bare unmitigated poverty. + +That was all he knew—all he could hope to unravel of the story. +The mute lips on the pillow refused him more than this—unless +indeed they had told him the rest in the kiss they had left upon +his forehead. Yes, he could now read into that farewell all that +his heart craved to find there; he could even draw from it courage +not to accuse himself for having failed to reach the height of his +opportunity. + +He saw that all the conditions of life had conspired to keep them +apart; since his very detachment from the external influences which +swayed her had increased his spiritual fastidiousness, and made it +more difficult for him to live and love uncritically. But at least +he HAD loved her—had been willing to stake his future on his faith +in her—and if the moment had been fated to pass from them before +they could seize it, he saw now that, for both, it had been saved +whole out of the ruin of their lives. + +It was this moment of love, this fleeting victory over themselves, +which had kept them from atrophy and extinction; which, in her, had +reached out to him in every struggle against the influence of her +surroundings, and in him, had kept alive the faith that now drew +him penitent and reconciled to her side. + +He knelt by the bed and bent over her, draining their last moment +to its lees; and in the silence there passed between them the word +which made all clear. + + +THE END + + + + +=Transcriber’s Note=: + + + 1. I have modernized this text by modernizing the contractions: do + n’t becomes don’t, etc. + + 2. I have retained the British spelling of words like favour and + colour. + + 3. I found and corrected one instance of the name “Gertie,” which I + changed to “Gerty” to be consistent with rest of the book. + + Linda Ruoff + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF MIRTH *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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