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diff --git a/28590-8.txt b/28590-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a461f30 --- /dev/null +++ b/28590-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11504 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dust Flower, by Basil King + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Dust Flower + +Author: Basil King + +Illustrator: Hibbard V. B. Kline + +Release Date: April 22, 2009 [EBook #28590] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUST FLOWER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Darleen Dove and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +THE DUST FLOWER + + + + + BOOKS BY + BASIL KING + ---------------------------- + _The Dust Flower_ + _The Empty Sack_ + _Going West_ + _The City of Comrades_ + _Abraham's Bosom_ + _The Lifted Veil_ + _The Side of the Angels_ + _The Letter of the Contract_ + _The Way Home_ + _The Wild Olive_ + _The Inner Shrine_ + _The Street Called Straight_ + _Let No Man Put Asunder_ + _In the Garden of Charity_ + _The Steps of Honor_ + _The High Heart_ + ---------------------------- + HARPER & BROTHERS + Established 1817 + + + + +[Illustration: THEN SLOWLY, SLOWLY LETTY SANK ON HER KNEES, BOWING HER +HEAD ON THE HANDS WHICH DREW HER CLOSER. [See p. 350]] + + + + + THE DUST FLOWER + + _By_ BASIL KING + + _Author of_ + "THE EMPTY SACK" "THE INNER SHRINE" ETC. + + _With Illustrations by_ + HIBBARD V. B. KLINE + + _Publishers_ + Harper & Brothers + New York and London + _MCMXXII_ + + + + + THE DUST FLOWER + + Copyright, 1922 + Harper & Brothers + Printed in the U. S. A. + + _First Edition_ + H-W + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + PAGE + THEN SLOWLY, SLOWLY LETTY SANK ON HER KNEES, + BOWING HER HEAD ON THE HANDS WHICH DREW HER + CLOSER _Frontispiece_ + + BY THE TIME HE HAD FINISHED, HIS HEART WAS A + LITTLE EASED AND SOME OF HER TENDERNESS BEGAN TO + FLOW TOWARD HIM _Facing page_ 68 + + THE PRINCE'S FIRST WORDS WERE ALSO A DISTRACTION + FROM TERRORS, AND ENCHANTMENTS WHICH MADE HER + FEEL FAINT _Facing page_ 230 + + "BUT BY AND BY I CREEPS OUT AND DOWN THE STEPS, + AND THERE 'E WAS, ALL 'UDDLED EVERY WYE" _Facing page_ 328 + + + + +THE DUST FLOWER + + + + +Chapter I + + +It is not often that you see a man tear his hair, but this is exactly +what Rashleigh Allerton did. He tore it, first, because of being under +the stress of great agitation, and second, because he had it to +tear--a thick, black shock with a tendency to part in the middle, but +brushed carefully to one side. Seated on the extreme edge of one of +Miss Walbrook's strong, slender armchairs, his elbows on his knees, he +dug his fingers into the dark mass with every fresh taunt from his +fiancée. + +She was standing over him, high-tempered, imperious. "So it's come to +this," she said, with decision; "you've got to choose between a +stupid, vulgar lot of men, and me." + +He gritted his teeth. "Do you expect me to give up all my friends?" + +"All your friends! That's another matter. I'm speaking of half a dozen +profligates, of whom you seem determined--I _must_ say it, Rash; you +force me to it--of whom you seem determined to be one." + +He jumped to his feet, a slim, good-looking, well-dressed figure in +spite of the tumbled effect imparted by excitement. "But, good +heavens, Barbara, what have I been doing?" + +"I don't pretend to follow you there. I only know the condition in +which you came here from the club last night." + +He was honestly bewildered. "Came here from the club last night? +Why--why, I wasn't so bad." + +Standing away from him, she twirled the engagement solitaire as if +resisting the impulse to snatch it off. "That would be a question of +point of view, wouldn't it? If Aunt Marion hadn't been here----" + +"I'd only had----" + +"Please, Rash! I don't want to know the details." + +"But I want you to know them. I've told you a dozen times that if I +take so much as a cocktail or a glass of sherry I'm all in, when +another fellow can take ten times as much and not----" + +"Rash, dear, I haven't known you all my life without being quite aware +that you're excitable. 'Crazy Rash' we used to call you when we were +children, and Crazy Rash you are still. But that's not my point." + +"Your point is that that infernal old Aunt Marion of yours doesn't +like me." + +"She's not infernal, and she's not old, but it's true that she doesn't +like you. All the more reason, then, that when she gave her consent to +our engagement on condition that you'd give up your disgusting +habits----" + +He raced away from her to the other side of the room, turning to face +her like an exasperated animal at bay. + +The room was noteworthy, and of curiously feminine refinement. +Expressing Miss Marion Walbrook as it did, it made no provision for +the coarse and lounging habits of men, Miss Walbrook's world being a +woman's world. All was straight, slender, erect, and hard in the way +that women like for occasions of formality. It was evident, too, that +Miss Walbrook's women friends were serious, if civilized. There was no +place here for the slapdash, smoking girl of the present day. + +The tone which caught your eye was that of dusky gold, thrown out +first from the Chinese rug in imperial yellow, but reflected from a +score of surfaces in rich old satinwood, discreetly mounted in ormolu. +On the French-paneled walls there was but one picture, Sargent's +portrait of Miss Walbrook herself, an exquisite creature, with the +straight, thin lines of her own table legs and the grace which makes +no appeal to men. Not that she was of the type colloquially known as a +"back number," or a person to be ignored. On the contrary, she was a +pioneer of the day after to-morrow, the herald of an epoch when the +blundering of men would be replaced by superior intelligence. + +You must know these facts with regard to Miss Walbrook, the aunt, in +order to understand Miss Walbrook, the niece. The latter was not the +pupil of the former, since she was too intense and high-handed to be +the pupil of anyone. Nevertheless she had caught from her wealthy and +public-spirited relative certain prepossessions which guided her +points of view. + +Without having beauty, Miss Barbara Walbrook impressed you as Someone, +and as Someone dressed by the most expensive houses in New York. For +beauty her lips were too full, her eyes too slanting, and her +delicate profile too much like that of an ancient Egyptian princess. +The princess was perhaps what was most underscored in her character, +the being who by some indefinable divine right is entitled to her own +way. She didn't specially claim her way; she only couldn't bear not +getting it. + +Rashleigh Allerton, being of the easy-going type, had no objection to +her getting her own way, but he sometimes rebelled against her manner +of taking it. So rebelling now, he tried to give her to understand +that he was master. + +"If you marry me, Barbe, you'll have to take me as I am--disgusting +habits and all." + +It was the wrong tone, the whip to the filly that should have been +steered gently. + +"But I suppose there's no law to compel me to marry you." + +"Only the law of honor." + +Her whole personality was aflame. "You talk of honor!" + +"Yes I talk of it. Why shouldn't I?" + +"Do you know anything about it?" + +"Would you marry a man who didn't?" + +"I haven't married any one--as yet." + +"But you're going to marry me, I presume." + +"Considering the facts, that's a good deal in the way of presumption, +isn't it?" + +They reached the place to which they came once in every few weeks, +where each had the impulse to hurt the other cruelly. + +"If it's so much presumption as all that," he demanded, "what's the +meaning of that ring?" + +"Oh, I don't have to go on wearing it." Crossing the room she pulled +it off and held it out toward him "Do you want it back?" + +He shrank away from her. "Don't be a fool Barbe. You may go too far." + +"That's what I'm afraid of--that I've gone too far already." + +"In what way?" + +"In the way that's brought us face to face like this. If I'd never +promised to marry you I shouldn't now have to--to reconsider." + +"Oh, so that's it. You're reconsidering." + +"Don't you see that I have to? If you make me as unhappy as you can +before marriage, what'll it be afterward?" + +"And how happy are you making me?" + +Holding the ring between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand, +she played at putting it back, without doing it. "So there you are! +Isn't that another reason for reconsidering--for both of us?" + +"Don't you care anything about me?" + +"You make it difficult--after such an exhibition as that of last +night, right before Aunt Marion. Can't you imagine that there are +situations in which I feel ashamed?" + +It was then that he spoke the words which changed the current of his +life. "And can't you imagine that there are situations in which I +resent being badgered by a bitter-tongued old maid, to say nothing of +a girl----" He knew how "crazy" he was, but the habit of getting +beyond his own control was one of long standing--"to say nothing of a +girl who's more like an old maid than a woman going to be married." + +With a renewed attempt at being master he pointed at the ring which +she was still holding within an inch of its finger. "Put that back." + +"I think not." + +"Then if you don't----" + +"Well--what?" + +Plunging his hands into the pockets of his coat, he began tearing up +and down the room. "Look here, Barbe. This kind of thing can't +possibly go on." + +"Which is what I'm trying to tell you, isn't it?" + +"Very well, then; we can stop it." + +"Certainly--in one way." + +"The way of getting married, with no more shilly-shallying about it." + +"On the principle that if you're hanging over a precipice the best +thing you can do is to fall." + +He continued to race up and down the room, all nerves and frenzy. +"Don't we care about each other?" + +She answered carefully. "I think you care about me to the extent that +you believe I'd make a good mistress of the house your mother left +you, and which, you say, is like an empty sepulcher. If you didn't +have it on your hands, I don't imagine it would have occurred to you +to ask me." + +"Well, that's all right. Now what about you?" + +"You've already answered that question for yourself." She stiffened +haughtily. "I'm an old maid. I haven't been brought up by Aunt Marion +for nothing. I've an old maid's ways and outlooks and habits. I +resented your saying it a minute ago, and yet it's true. I've known +for years that it was true. It wouldn't be fair for me to marry any +man. So here it is, Rash." Crossing the floor-space she held out the +ring again. "You might as well take it first as last." + +He drew back from her, his features screwed up like those of a tragic +mask. "Do you mean it?" + +"Do I seem to be making a joke?" + +Averting his face, he swept the mere sight of the ring away from him. +"I won't touch the thing." + +"And I can't keep it. So there!" + +It fell with a little shivery sound to a bare spot on the floor, +rolling to the edge of a rug, where it stopped. Each looked down at +it. + +"So you mean to send me to the devil! All right! Just watch and you'll +see me go." + +She was walking away from him, but turned again. "If you mean by that +that you put the responsibility for your abominable life on me----" + +"Abominable life! Me! Just because I'm not one of the white-blooded +Nancies which your aunt thinks the only ones fit to be called +men----" + +But he couldn't go on. He was choking. The sole relief to his +indignation was in once more tearing round the room, while Miss +Walbrook moved to the fluted white mantelpiece, where, with her foot +resting on the attenuated Hunt Diedrich andirons she bowed her head +against an attenuated Hunt Diedrich antelope in bronze. + +She was not softened or repentant. She knew she would become so later; +but she knew too that her tempers had to work themselves off by +degrees. Their quarrels having hitherto been rendered worth while by +their reconciliations, she took it for granted that the same thing +would happen once more though, as she expressed it to herself, she +would have died before taking the first step. The obvious thing was +for him to pick up the ring from off the floor, bring it to her humbly +while her back was turned on him, and beseech her to allow him to slip +it on where it belonged; whereupon she would consider as to whether +she would do so or not. In her present frame of mind, so she told +herself, she would not. Nothing would induce her to do anything of the +kind. He had betrayed the fact that he knew something as to which she +was desperately sensitive, which other people knew, but which she had +always supposed to have escaped his observation--that she was like an +old maid. + +She was. She was only twenty-five, but she had been like an old maid +at fifteen. It had been a joke till she was twenty, after which it had +continued as a joke to her friends, but a grief to herself. She was +distinguished, aristocratic, intellectual, accomplished, and Aunt +Marion would probably see to it that she was left tolerably well off; +nevertheless she had picked up from her aunt, or perhaps had inherited +from the same source, the peculiar quality of the woman who would +probably not marry. Because she knew it and bewailed it, it had come +like a staggering blow to learn that Rash knew it, and perhaps +bewailed it too. The least he could do to atone for that offense would +be to beg her, to implore her on his bended knees, to wear his ring +again; and she might not do it even then. + +The dramatic experience was worth waiting for, however, and so with +spirit churning she leaned her hot brow against the thin, cool flank +of Hunt Diedrich's antelope. She knew by the fierce grinding of his +steps on the far side of the room that he hadn't yet picked up the +ring; but there was no hurry as to that. Since she would never, never +forgive him for knowing what she thought he didn't know--forgive him +in her heart, that was to say--not if she married him ten times over, +or to the longest day he lived, there was plenty of time for reaching +friendly terms again. Her anger had not yet blown off, nor had she +stabbed him hard enough. As with most people subject to storms of hot +temper, stabs, given and received, were all in her day's work. They +relieved for the moment the pressure of emotion, leaving no permanent +ill-will behind them. + +She heard him come to a halt, but did not turn to look at him. + +"So it's all over!" + +As a peg on which to hang a retort the words would serve as well as +any others. "It seems so, doesn't it?" + +"And you don't care whether I go to the devil or not?" + +"What's the good of my caring when you seem determined to do it +anyhow?" + +He allowed a good minute to pass before saying, "Well, if you don't +marry me some other woman will." + +"Very likely; and if you make her a promise to reform I hope you'll +keep your word." + +"She won't be likely to exact any such condition." + +"Then you'll probably be happier with her than you could have been +with me." + +Having opened up the way for him to make some protest to which she +could have remained obdurate, she waited for it to come. But nothing +did come. Had she turned, she would have seen that he had grown white, +that his hands were clenched and his lips compressed after a way he +had and that his wild, harum-scarum soul was worked up to an +extraordinary intensity; but she didn't turn. She was waiting for him +to pick up the ring, creep along behind her, and seize the hand +resting on the mantelpiece, according to the ritual she had mentally +foreordained. But without stooping or taking a step he spoke again. + +"I picked up a book at the club the other day." + +Not being interested, she made no response. + +"It was the life of an English writing-guy." + +Though wondering what he was working up to, she still held her peace. + +"Gissing, the fellow's name was. Ever hear of him?" + +The question being direct, she murmured: "Yes; of course. What of +it?" + +"Ever hear how he got married?" + +"Not that I remember." + +"When something went wrong--I've forgotten what--he went out into the +street with a vow. It was a vow to marry the first woman he met who'd +marry him." + +A shiver went through her. It was just such a foolhardy thing as +Rashleigh himself was likely to attempt. She was afraid. She was +afraid, and yet reangered just when her wrath was beginning to die +down. + +"And he did it!" he cried, with a force in which it was impossible for +her not to catch a note of personal implication. + +It was unlikely that he could be trying to trap her by any such cheap +melodramatic threat as this; and yet---- + +When several minutes had gone by in a silence which struck her soon as +awesome, she turned slowly round, only to find herself alone. + +She ran into the hall, but there was no one there. He must have gone +downstairs. Leaning over the baluster, she called to him. + +"Rash! Rash!" + +But only Wildgoose, the manservant, answered from below. "Mr. Allerton +had just left the 'ouse, miss." + + + + +Chapter II + + +While Allerton and Miss Walbrook had been conducting this debate a +dissimilar yet parallel scene was enacted in a mean house in a mean +street on the other side of the Park. Viewed from the outside, the +house was one of those survivals of more primitive times which you +will still run across in the richest as well as in the poorest +districts of New York. A tiny wooden structure of two low stories, it +connected with the sidewalk by a flight of steps of a third of the +height of the whole façade. Flat-roofed and clap-boarded, it had once +been painted gray with white facings, but time, weather, and soot had +defaced these neat colors to a hideous pepper-and-salt. + +Within, a toy entry led directly to a toy stairway, and by a door on +the left into a toy living-room. In the toy living-room a man of +forty-odd was saying to a girl of perhaps twenty-three, + +"So you'll not give it up, won't you?" + +The girl cringed as the man stood over her, but pressing her hand over +something she had slipped within the opening at the neck of her cheap +shirtwaist, she maintained her ground. The face she raised to him was +at once terrified and determined, tremulous with tears and yet defiant +with some new exercise of will power. + +"No, I'll not give it up." + +"We'll see." + +He said it quietly enough, the menace being less in his tone than in +himself. He was so plainly the cheap sport bully that there could have +been nothing but a menace in his personality. Flashy male good looks +got a kind of brilliancy from a set of big, strong teeth the whiter +for their contrast with a black, brigand-like mustache. He was so well +dressed in his cheap sport way as to be out of keeping with the +dilapidation of the room, in which there was hardly a table or a chair +which stood firmly on its legs, or a curtain or a covering which +didn't reek with dust and germs. A worn, thin carpet gaped in holes; +what had once been a sofa stood against a wall, shockingly +disemboweled. Through a door ajar one glimpsed a toy kitchen where the +stove had lost a leg and was now supported by a brick. It was plain +that the master of the house was one of those for whom any lair is +sufficient as a home as long as he can cut a dash outside. + +Quiveringly, as if in terror of a blow, the girl explained herself +breathlessly: "The castin' director sent for me just as I was makin' +tracks for home. He ast me if this was the on'y suit I had. When I +'lowed it was, he just said he couldn't use me any more till I got a +new one." + +The man took the tone of superior masculine knowledge. "That wasn't +nothin' but bull. What if he does chuck you? I know every movin' +picture studio round N'York. I'll get you in somewheres else. Come +now, Letty. Fork out. I need the berries. I owe some one. I was only +waitin' for you to come home." + +She clutched her breast more tightly. "I gotta have a new suit +anyhow." + +"Well, I'll buy you a new suit when I get the bones. Didn't I give you +this one?" + +She continued, still breathlessly: "Two years ago--a marked-down +misses' it was even then--all right if I was on'y sixteen--but now +when I'm near twenty-three--and it's in rags anyhow--and all out of +style--and in pitchers you've gotta be----" + +"They'se plenty pitchers where they want that character--to pass in a +crowd, and all that." + +"To pass in a crowd once or twice, yes; but when all you can do is to +pass in a crowd, and wear the same old rig every time you pass in +it----" + +He cut her protests short by saying, with an air of finality: "Well, +anyhow I've got to have the bucks. Can't go out till I get 'em. So +hand!" + +With lips compressed and eyes swimming, she shook her head. + +"Better do it. You'll be sorry if you don't. I can pass you that tip +straight now." + +"If you was laughed at every time you stepped onto the lot----" + +"There's worse things than bein' laughed at. I can tell you that +straight now." + +"Nothin's worse than bein' laughed at, not for a girl of my age there +ain't." + +Watching his opportunity he caught her off her guard. Her eyes having +wandered to the coat she had just taken off, a worn gray thing with +edgings of worn gray squirrel fur, he wrenched back with an unexpected +movement the hand that clutched something to her breast, thrust two +fingers of his other hand within her corsage, and extracted her +pay-envelope. + +It took her by such surprise that she was like a mad thing, throwing +herself upon him and battling for her treasure, though any possibility +of her getting it back from him was hopeless. It was so easy for him +to catch her by the wrists and twist them that he laughed while he was +doing it. + +"You little cat! You see what you bring on yourself. And you're goin' +to get worse. I can tell you that straight now." + +Still twisting her arms till she writhed, though without a moan or a +cry, he backed her toward the disemboweled sofa, on whose harsh, +exposed springs she fell. Then he sprang on her a new surprise. + +"How dare you wear them rings? They was your mother's rings. I bought +and paid for 'em. They're mine." + +"Oh, don't take them off," she begged. "You can keep the money----" + +"Sure I can keep the money," he grinned, wrenching from her fingers +the plain gold band he had given her mother as a wedding ring, as well +as another, bigger, broader, showier, and set with two infinitesimal +white points claiming to be diamonds. + +Though he had released her hands, she now stretched them out toward +him pleadingly. "Aw, give 'em back to me. They'se all I've got in the +world to care about--just because she wore 'em. You can take anything +else I've got----" + +"All right, then. I'll take this." + +With a deftness which would have done credit to a professor of +legerdemain he unbuckled the strap of her little wrist-watch, putting +the thing into his pocket. + +"I give that to your mother too. You don't need it, and it may be +useful to me. What else have you got?" + +She struggled to her feet. He was growing more dangerous than she had +ever known him to be even when he had beaten her. + +"I ain't got nothin' else." + +"Oh, yes, you have. You gotta purse. I seen you with it. Where is +it?" + +The fear in her eyes sent his toward her jacket, thrown on the chair +when she had come in. With an "Ah!" of satisfaction he pounced on it. +As he held it upside down and shook it, a little leather wallet +clattered to the floor. She sprang for it, but again he was too quick +for her. + +"So!" he snarled, with his glittering grin. "You thought you'd get it, +did you?" He rattled the few coins, copper and silver, into the palm +of his hand, and unfolded a one-dollar bill. "You must owe me this +money. Who's give you bed and board for the last ten year, I'd like to +know? How much have you ever paid me?" + +"Only all I ever earned--which you stole from me." + +"Stole from you, did I? Well, you won't fling that in my face any +more." He handed her her coat. "Put that on," he commanded. + +"What for?" She held it without obeying the order. "What's the good o' +goin' out and me without a cent?" + +"Put it on." + +Her lip quivered; she began to suspect his intention. "I do' wanta." + +"Oh, very well! Please yourself. You got your hat on already." +Seizing her by the shoulders he steered her toward the door. "Now +march." + +Though she refused to march, it was not difficult for him to force +her. + +"This'll teach you to valyer a good home when you got one. You'll +deserve to find the next one different." + +She almost shrieked: "You're not going to turn me out?" + +"Well, what does it look as if I was doin'?" + +"I won't go! I won't go! Where _can_ I go?" + +"What I'm doin' 'll help you to find out." + +He had her now in the entry, where in spite of her struggles he had no +difficulty in unlocking the door, pushing her out, and relocking the +door behind her. + +"Lemme in! Lemme in! Oh, _please_, lemme in!" + +He stood in the middle of the living-room, listening with pleasure and +smiling his brigand's smile. He was not as bad as you might think. He +did mean to let her in eventually. His smile and his pleasure sprang +purely from the fact that his lesson was so successful. With this in +her mind, she wouldn't withstand him a second time. + +She rattled the door by the handle. She beat upon the panels. She +implored. + +Still smiling, he filled his pipe. Let her keep it up. It would do her +good. He remembered that once when he had turned her mother out at +night, she had sat on the steps till he let her in at dawn before the +police looked round that way. History would repeat itself. The +daughter would do the same. He was only giving her the lesson she +deserved. + +Meanwhile she was experiencing a new sensation, that of outrage. For +the first time in her life she was swept by pride in revolt. She +hadn't known that any such emotion could get hold of her. As a matter +of fact she hadn't known that so strong a support to the inner man lay +within the depths of human nature. Accustomed to being cowed, she had +hardly understood that there was any other way to feel. Only within a +day or two had something which you or I would have called spirit, but +for which she had no name, disturbed her with unexpected flashes, like +those of summer lightning. + +While waiting for the camera, for instance, in the street scene in +"The Man with the Emerald Eye," a "fresh thing" had said, with a wink +at her companions, "Say, did you copy that suit from a pattern in +_Chic?_" + +Letty had so carefully minded her own business and tried to be nice to +every one that the titter which went round at her expense hurt her +with a wound impelling her to reply, "No; I ordered it at Margot's. +You look as if you got your things there too, don't you?" +Nevertheless, she was so stung by the sarcasm that the commendation +she overheard later, that the Gravely kid had a tongue, didn't bring +any consolation. + +Without knowing that what she felt now was an intensified form of the +same rebellion against scorn, she knew it was not consistent with some +inborn sense of human dignity to stand there pleading to be let into a +house from which she was locked out, even though it was the only spot +on earth she could call home. Still less was it possible when, round +the foot of the steps, a crowd began to gather, jeering at her +passionate beseechings. For the most part they were children, Slavic, +Semitic, Italian. Amid their cries of, "Go it, Sis!" now in English +and now in strange equivalents of Latin, or Polish, or even Hebraic +origin, she was suddenly arrested by the consciousness of personal +humiliation. + +She turned from the door to face the street. It was one of those +streets not rare in New York which the civic authorities abandon in +despair. A gash of children and refuse cut straight from river to +Park, it got its chief movement from push-carts of fruit and other +foods, while the "wash" of five hundred families blew its banners +overhead. Vendors of all kinds uttered their nasal or raucous cries, +in counterpoint to the treble screams of little boys and girls. + +Letty had always hated it, but it was something more than hatred which +she felt for it now. Beyond the children adults were taking a rest +from the hawking profession to comment with grins on the sight of a +girl locked out of her own home. She was probably a very bad girl to +call for that kind of treatment, and therefore one on whom they should +spend some derision. + +They were spending it as she turned. It was an experience on a large +scale of what the girl in the studio had inflicted. She was a thing to +be scorned, and of all the hardships in the world scorn, now that she +was aware of it, was the one she could least submit to. + +So pride came to her rescue. Throwing her coat across her arm she went +down the steps, passed through the hooting children, one or two of +whom pulled her by the skirt, passed through the bearded Jews, and +the bronzed Italians, and the flat-nosed Slavs, passed through the +women who had come out on the sidewalk at this accentuation of the +daily din, passed through the barrows and handcarts and piles of +cabbages and fruit, and went her way. + + + + +Chapter III + + +Exactly at this minute Rashleigh Allerton was standing outside Miss +Walbrook's door, glancing up and down Fifth Avenue and over at the +Park. It was the hour after luncheon when pedestrians become numerous. +For his purpose they could not be very numerous; they must be +reasonably spaced apart. + +And already a veritable stream of women had begun to flow down the +long, gentle slope, while a few, like fish, were stemming the current +by making progress against it. None of them was his "affair." Young, +old, short, tall, blond, brunette, they were without exception of the +class indiscriminately lumped as ladies. Since you couldn't go to the +devil because you had married a lady, even on the wild hypothesis that +one of these sophisticated beings would without introduction or +formality marry him, it would be better not to let himself in for the +absurdity of the proposal. When there was a break in the procession, +he darted across the street and made his way into the Park. + +Here there was no one in sight as far as the path continued without a +bend. He was going altogether at a venture. Round the curve of the +woodland way there might swing at any second the sibyl who would point +his life downward. + +He was aware, however, that in sibyls he had a preference. If she was +to send him to the devil, she must be of the type which he qualified +as a "drab." Without knowing the dictionary meaning of the word, he +felt that it implied whatever would contrast most revoltingly with +Barbara Walbrook. Seeing with her own eyes to what she had driven him, +her heart would be wrung. That was all he asked for, the wringing of +her heart. It might be a mad thing for him to punish himself so +terribly just to punish her, but he was mad anyhow. Madness gave him +the satisfaction which some men got from thrift, and others from +cleverness. He would keep the vow with which he had slipped out of +Miss Walbrook's drawing room. It was all that life had left for him. + +That was, he wouldn't pick and choose. He would take them as they +came. He had not stipulated with himself that she must be a "drab." It +was only what he hoped. She must be the first woman he met who would +marry him. Age, appearance, refinement, vulgarity were not to be +considered. Picking and choosing on his part would only take his +destiny out of the hands of Fate, where he preferred that it should +lie. + +Had any one passed him, he would have seemed the more perturbed +because of his being so well-dressed. He was one of the few New +Yorkers as careful of appearances as many Londoners. With the finish +that comes of studied selection in hat, stick, and gloves, as well as +all small accessories of the costliest, he might have been going to or +coming from a wedding. + +He was imposing, therefore, to a short, stout, elderly woman with whom +he suddenly found himself face to face as the path took a sharp sweep +to the south. The shrubs which had kept them hidden from each other +gave place here to open stretches of lawn. When Allerton paused and +lifted his hat, the woman naturally paused, too. + +She was a red-faced woman crowned with a bonnet of the style +introduced by Mrs. Langtry in 1878, but worn on this occasion some +degrees off center. On her arm she carried a flat basket of which the +contents, decently covered with a towel, might have been freshly +laundered shirts. Being stopped by a gentleman of Allerton's +impressiveness and plainly suffering expression, her face grew +motherly and sympathetic. + +"Madam, I wish to ask if you'll marry me?" + +Even a dull brain couldn't fail to catch words hammered out with this +force of precision. The woman didn't wait to have them repeated. +Dropping her basket as it was, she took to flight. Flight was the +word. A modern Atalanta of Wellesley or Bryn Mawr might have envied +the chamois leaps which took the good creature across the grass to the +protection of a man with a lawn-mower. + +Allerton couldn't pause to watch her, for a new sibyl was advancing. +To his disgust rather than not, she was young and pretty, a nursemaid +pushing a baby-cart into which a young man of two was strapped. While +far more likely to take him than the stout old party still skipping +the greensward like a mountain roe, she would be much less plausible +as a reason for going to the evil one. But a vow was a vow, and he was +in for it. + +His approach was the same as on the previous occasion. Lifting his hat +ceremoniously, he said with the same distinctness of utterance, +"Madam, I wish to ask if you'll marry me?" + +The girl, who had paused when he did, leaned on the pusher of her +go-cart, studying him calmly. Chewing something with a slow, rotary +movement of the lips and chin, she broke the action with a snap before +quite completing the circle, to begin all over again. "Oh, you do, do +you?" was her quiet response. + +"If you please." + +She studied him again, with the same semi-circular motion of the jaw. +She might have been weighing his proposal. + +"Say, is this one of them club initiation stunts, or have you just got +a noive?" + +"Am I to take that as a yes or a no?" + +"And am I to take you as one of them smart-Alecks, or a coily-headed +nut?" + +He saw a way out. "I'm generally considered a curly-headed nut." + +"Then it's me for the exit-in-case-of-fire, so ta-ta." She laughed +back at him over her shoulder. "Wish you luck with your next." + +But fate was already on him in another form. A lady of fifty or +thereabouts was coming up the path, refined, sedate, mistress of +herself, the one type of all others most difficult to accost. All the +same he must do it. He must keep on doing it till some one yielded to +his suit. The rebuffs to which he had been subjected did no more than +inflame his will. + +Approaching the new sibyl with the same ceremoniousness, he repeated +the same words in the same precise tone. The lady stood off, eyed him +majestically through a lorgnette, and spoke with a force which came +from quietude. + +"I know who you are. You're Rashleigh Allerton. You ought to be +ashamed with a shame that would strike you to the ground. I'm a friend +of Miss Marion Walbrook's. I'm on my way to see her and shall _not_ +mention this encounter. We work on the same committee of the League +for the Suppression of Men's Clubs. The lamentable state in which I +see you convinces me once more of the need of our work, if our men are +to become as we hope to see them. I bid you a good afternoon." + +With the dignity of a queen she passed on and out of sight, leaving +him with the sting of a whiplash on his face. + +But the name of Miss Walbrook, connected with that of the League which +was her pet enthusiasm for the public weal, only served as an +incitement. He would go through with it now at any cost. By nightfall +he would be at police-headquarters for insulting women, or he would +have found a bride. + +Walking on again, the path was clear before him as far as he could +see. Having thus a few minutes to reflect, he came to the conclusion +that his attacks had been too precipitate. He should feel the ground +before him, leading the sibyl a little at a time, so as to have her +mentally prepared. There were methods of "getting acquainted" to which +he should apply himself first of all. + +But getting acquainted with the old Italian peasant woman, bowed +beneath a bundle, who was the next he would have to confront, being +out of the question, he resolved to side-step destiny by slipping out +of the main path and following a branch one. Doing so, he came into +less frequented regions, while his steps took him up a low hill +burnished with the tints of mid-October. Trees and shrubs were +flame-colored, copper-colored, wine-colored, differing only in their +diffuseness of hue from the concentrated gorgeousness of amaranth, +canna, and gladiolus. The sounds of the city were deadened here to a +dull rumble, while the vibrancy of the autumn afternoon excited his +taut nerves. + +At the top of the hill he paused. There was no one in sight who could +possibly respond to his quest. He wondered for a second if this were +not a hint to him to abandon it. But doing that he would abandon his +revenge, and by abandoning his revenge he would concede everything to +this girl who had so bitterly wronged him. Ever since he could +remember they had been pals, and for at least ten years he had vaguely +thought of asking her to marry him when it came to his seeking a wife. +It was true, the hint she had thrown out, that he had felt himself in +no great need of a wife till his mother had died some eighteen months +previously, and he had found himself with a cumbrous old establishment +on his hands. That had given the decisive turn to his suit. He had +asked her. She had taken him. And since then, in the course of less +than ten weeks, if they had had three quarrels they had had thirty. He +had taken them all more or less good-naturedly--till to-day. To-day +was too much. He could hardly say why it was too much, unless it was +as the last straw, but he felt it essential to his honor to show her +by actual demonstration the ruin she had made of him. + +Looking about him for another possibility, he noticed that at the spot +where the path, having serpentined down the little hillside, rejoined +the main footway there was a bench so placed that its occupant would +have a view along several avenues at once. Since it was obviously a +vantage point for such strategy as his, he had taken the first steps +down toward it when a little gray figure emerged from behind a group +of blue Norway spruces. She went dejectedly to the bench, sitting down +at an extreme end of it. + +Wrought up to a fit of tension far from rare with him, Allerton stood +with his nails digging into his clenched palms and his thin lips +pressed together. He was sure he was looking at a "drab." All the +shoddy, outcast meanings he had read into the word were under the +bedraggled feathers of this battered black hat or compressed within +the forlorn squirrel-trimmed gray suit. The dragging movement, the +hint of dropping on the seat not from fatigue but from desperation, +completed the picture his imagination had already painted of some +world-worn, knocked-about creature who had come to the point at which, +in his own phrase, she was "all in." + +As far as this described Letty Gravely, he was wrong. She was not "all +in." She was never more mentally alert than at that very minute. If +she moved slowly, if she sank on the seat as if too beaten down by +events to do more, it was because her mind was so intensely centered +on her immediate problems. + +She had, in fact, just formed a great resolution. Whatever became of +her, she would never go back to Judson Flack, her stepfather. This had +not been clearly in her mind when she had gone down his steps and +walked away, but the occasion presented itself now as one to be +seized. In seizing it, however, the alternatives were difficult. She +was without a cent, a shelter, a job, a friend, or the prospect of a +meal. It was probable that there was not at that minute in New York a +human being so destitute. Before nightfall she would have to find some +nominal motive for living or be arrested as a vagrant. + +She was not appalled. For the first time in her life she was +relatively free from fear. Even with nothing but her person as she +stood, she was her own mistress. No big dread hung over her--that is, +no big dread of the kind represented by Judson Flack. She might jump +into the river or go to the bad, but in either case she would do it of +her own free will. Merely to have the exercise of her own free will +gave her the kind of physical relief which a human being gets from +stretching limbs cramped and crippled by chains. + +Besides, there was in her situation an underlying possibility of +adventure. This she didn't phrase, since she didn't understand it. She +only had the intuition in her heart that where "the world is all +before you, where to choose your place of rest, and Providence your +guide," Providence _becomes_ your guide. Verbally she put it merely in +the words, "Things happen," though as to what could happen between +half-past three in the afternoon and midnight, when she would possibly +be in jail, she could not begin to imagine. + +So absorbed was she in this momentous uncertainty that she scarcely +noticed that some one had seated himself at the other end of the +bench. It was a public place; it was likely that some one would. She +felt neither curiosity nor resentment. A lack of certain of the +feminine instincts, or their retarded development, left her without +interest in the fact that the newcomer was a man. From the slight +glance she had given him when she heard his step, she judged him to be +what she estimated as an elderly man, quite far into the thirties. + +She went back to her own thoughts which were practical. There were +certain measures which she could take at once, after which there would +be no return. Once more she was not appalled. She had lived too near +the taking of these steps to be shocked by them. Everything in life is +a question of relativity, and in the world which her mother had +entered on marrying Judson Flack the men were all so near the edge of +the line which separates the criminal from the non-criminal that it +seemed a natural thing when they crossed it, while the women.... + +But as her thoughts were dealing with this social problem in its +bearing on herself, her neighbor spoke. + +"Funny to watch those kids playing with the pup, isn't it?" + +She admitted that it was, that watching children and young animals was +a favorite sport with her. She answered simply, because being +addressed by strange men with whom she found herself in proximity was +sanctioned by the etiquette of her society. To resent it would be +putting on airs, besides which it would cut off social intercourse +between the sexes. It had happened to her many a time to have engaging +conversations with chance young men beside her in the subway, never +seeing them before or afterward. + +So Allerton found getting acquainted easier than he had expected. The +etiquette of _his_ society not sanctioning this directness of response +on her part, he drew the conclusion that she was accustomed to +"meeting fellows halfway." As this was the sort of person he was +looking for, he found in the freedom nothing to complain of. + +With the openness of her social type she gave details of her biography +without needing to be pressed. + +"You're a New York girl?" + +"I am now. I didn't use to be." + +"What were you to begin with?" + +"Momma brought me from Canada after my father died. That's why I ain't +got no friends here." + +At this appeal for sympathy his glance stole suspiciously toward her, +finding his first conjectures somewhat but not altogether verified. +She was young apparently, and possibly pretty, though as to neither +point did he care. He would have preferred more "past," more +"mystery," more "drama," but since you couldn't have everything, a +young person utterly unfit to be his wife would have to be enough. He +continued to draw out her story, not because he cared anything about +hearing it, but in order to spring his question finally without making +her think him more unbalanced than he was. + +"Your father was a Canadian?" + +"Yes; a farmer. Momma used to say she was about as good to work a farm +as a cat to run a fire-engine. When he died, she sold out for four +thousand dollars and come to New York." + +"To work?" + +"No, to have a good time. She'd never had a good time, momma hadn't, +and she was awful pretty. So she said she'd just blow herself to it +while she had the berries in her basket. That was how she met Judson +Flack. I suppose you know who he is. Everybody does." + +"I'm afraid I haven't the pleasure." + +"Oh, I don't know as you'd find it any big pleasure. Momma didn't, not +after she'd give him a try." + +"Who and what is he?" + +"He calls hisself a man about town. I call him a bum. Poor momma +married him." + +"And wasn't happy, I suppose." + +"Not after he'd spent her wad, she wasn't. She was crazy about him, +and when she found out that all he'd cared about was her four thousand +plunks--well, it was her finish." + +"How long ago was that?" + +"About four years now." + +"And what have you been doing in the meanwhile?" + +"Keepin' house for Judson Flack most of the time--till I quit." + +"Oh, you've quit?" + +"Sure I've quit." She was putting her better foot forward. "Now I'm in +pitchers." + +He glanced at her again, having noticed already that she scarcely +glanced at him. Her profile was toward him as at first, an irregular +little profile of lifts and tilts, which might be appealing, but was +not beautiful. The boast of being in pictures, so incongruous with +her woefully dilapidated air, did not amuse him. He knew how large a +place a nominal connection with the stage took in the lives of certain +ladies. Even this poor little tramp didn't hesitate to make the +claim. + +"And you're doing well?" + +She wouldn't show the white feather. "Oh, so so! I--I get along." + +"You live by yourself?" + +"I--I do now." + +"Don't you find it lonely?" + +"Not so lonely as livin' with Judson Flack." + +"You're--you're happy?" + +A faint implication that she might look to him for help stirred her +fierce independence. "Gee, yes! I'm--I'm doin' swell." + +"But you wouldn't mind a change, I suppose?" + +For the first time her eyes stole toward him, not in suspicion, and +still less in alarm, but in one of the intenser shades of curiosity. +It was almost as if he was going to suggest to her something "off the +level" but which would nevertheless be worth her while. She was used +to these procedures, not in actual experience but from hearing them +talked about. They made up a large part of what Judson Flack +understood as "business." She felt it prudent to be as non-committal +as possible. + +"I ain't so sure." + +She meant him to understand that being tolerably satisfied with her +own way of life, she was not enthusiastic over new experiments. + +His next observation was no surprise to her. "I'm a lawyer." + +She was sure of that. There were always lawyers in these subterranean +affairs--"shyster" was a word she had heard applied to them--and this +man looked the part. His thin face, clear-cut profile, and skin which +showed dark where he shaved, were all, in her judgment, signs of the +sinister. Even his clothes, from his patent leather shoes with spats +to his dark blue necktie with a pearl in it, were those which an actor +would wear in pictures to represent a "shark." + +She was turning these thoughts over in her mind when he spoke again. + +"I've an office, but I don't practise much. It takes all my time to +manage my own estate." + +She didn't know what this meant. It sounded like farming, but you +didn't farm in New York, or do it from an office anyhow. "I guess he's +one of them gold-brick nuts," she commented to herself, "but he won't +put nothin' over on me." + +In return for her biography he continued to give his, bringing out his +facts in short, hard statements which seemed to hurt him. It was this +hurting him which she found most difficult to reconcile with her gold +brick theory and the suspicion that he was a "shark." + +"My father was a lawyer, too. Rather well known in his day. One time +ambassador to Vienna." + +Ambassador to Vienna! She didn't know where Vienna was or the nature +of an ambassador, but she did know that it sounded grand, so she +looked at him attentively. It was either more gold brick or else.... + +Then something struck her--"smote her" would be perhaps the more +accurately descriptive word, since the effect was on her heart. This +man was sick. He was suffering. She had often seen women suffer, but +men rarely, and this was one of the rare instances. Something in her +was touched. She couldn't imagine why he talked to her or what he +wanted of her, but a pity which had never yet been called upon was +astir among her emotions. + +As for the minute he said no more, her next words came out only +because she supposed them to betray the kindly interest of which he +was in need. + +"Then I suppose he left you _a_ big fat wad." + +"Yes; but it doesn't do me any good. I mean, it doesn't make me +happy--when I'm not." + +"I guess it'd make you a good deal less happy if you didn't have it." + +"Perhaps so; I don't think about it either way." He added, after tense +compression of the lips; "I'm all alone in the world--like you." + +She was sure now that something was coming, though of what nature lay +beyond her speculative power. She wondered if he could have fallen in +love with her at first sight, realizing a favorite dream she often had +in the subway. Hundreds of times she had beguiled the minutes by +selecting one or another of the wealthy lawyers and bankers, whom she +supposed to be her fellow-travelers there, seeing him smitten by a +glance at her, following her when she got out, and laying his heart +and coronet at her feet before she had run up the steps. If this man +were not a shyster lawyer or a gold brick nut, he might possibly be +doing that. + +"It's about a girl," he burst out suddenly. "Half an hour ago she +kicked me out." + +"Did she know you had all that dough?" + +"Yes, she knew I had all that dough. But she said that since I was +going to the devil, I had better go." He drew a long breath. "Well, +I'm going--perhaps quicker than she thinks." + +"Will you do yourself any good by that?" + +"No, but I'll do her harm." + +"How?" + +"I'll show her what she's made of me." + +"She can't make anything of you in half an hour or in half a year--not +so long as you've got your wad back of you. If you was to be kicked +out with your pay-envelope stole, and your mother's rings pulled off +your fingers, and her wrist-watch from your wrist, and even your +carfare----" + +"Is that what's happened to you?" + +"Sure! Half an hour ago, too. Judson Flack! But why should I worry? +Something'll happen before night." + +He became emphatic. "Yes, and I'll tell you what it will be. You put +your finger on it just now when you said she couldn't make anything +out of men in half an hour. Well, it's got to be something that would +take just that time--an hour at the most--_and fatal_. Now do you +see?" + +She shook her head. + +He swung fully round on her from his end of the bench. "Think," he +commanded. + +As if with a premonitory notion of what he meant, she answered coldly: +"What's the good o' me thinkin'? I've got nothin' to do with it." + +"You might have." + +"I can't imagine what, unless it'd be----" Realizing what she had been +about to say, she broke off in confusion, coloring to the eyes. + +He nodded. "I see you understand. I want you to come off somewhere and +marry me." + +She took it more calmly than if she hadn't thought him mad. "But--but +you said you'd be--be goin' to the devil." + +"Well?" + +His look, his tone, conveyed the idea, which penetrated to her mind +but slowly. When it did, the surging color became a flush, hot and +painful. + +So here it was again, the thing she had been running away from. It had +outwitted and outrun her, meeting her again just at the instant when +she thought she was shaking it off. She was so indignant with the +_thing_ that she almost overlooked the man. She too swung round from +her end of the bench, so that they confronted each other, with the +length of the seat between them. It was her habit to put things +plainly, though now she did it with a burning heart. + +"This is the way you mean it, isn't it?--you'd go to the devil because +you'd married _me_." + +The half-minute before he answered was occupied not merely in thinking +what to say but in noticing, now that he had her in full-face, that +her large, brown irises seemed to be sprinkled with gold dust. +Otherwise her appearance struck him simply as blurred, as if it had +been brightly enough drawn as to color and line, only rubbed over and +defaced by the hand of misery. + +"I don't want you to get me wrong," he explained. "It's not a question +of my marrying you in particular. I've said I'd marry the first girl I +met who'd marry me." + +The gold-brown eyes scintillated with a thousand tiny stars. "Say, and +am I the first?" + +"No; you're the fourth." He added, so that she should be under no +misconception as to what he was about: "You can take me or leave me. +That's up to you. But if you take me, I want you to understand that +it'll be on a purely business basis." + +She repeated, as if to memorize the words, "A purely business basis." + +"Exactly. I'm not looking for a wife. I only want a woman to marry--a +woman to whom I can point and say, See there! I've married--that." + +"And _that'd_ be me." + +"If you undertook the job." + +"The job of--of bein' laughed at--jeered at----" + +"I'd be the one who'd be laughed at and jeered at. Nobody would think +anything about you. They wouldn't remember how you looked or know your +name. If you got sick of it after a bit, and decided to cut and run, +you could do it. I'd see that you were well treated--for the rest of +your life." + +She studied him long and earnestly. "Say, are _you_ crazy?" + +"I'm all on edge, if that's what you mean. But there's nothing for you +to be afraid of. I shan't do you any harm at any time." + +"You only want to do harm to yourself. I'd be like the awful kind o' +pill which a fellow'll swaller to commit suicide." She rose, not +without a dignity of her own. "Well, mister, if I'm your fourth, I +guess you'll have to look about you for a fifth." + +"Where are you going?" + +He asked the question without rising. She answered as if her choice of +objectives was large. + +"Oh, anywheres." + +"Which means nowhere, doesn't it?" + +"Oh, not exactly. It means--it means--the first place I fetch up." + +"The first place you fetch up may be the police-station, if the things +you said just now are true." + +"The police-station is safe, anyways." + +"And you think the place I'd take you to wouldn't be. Well, you're +wrong. It'll be as safe as a church for as long as you like to stay; +and when you want to go--lots of money to go with." + +Facing away from him toward the city, she said over her shoulder: +"There's things money couldn't pay you for. Bein' looked down on is +one." + +She was about to walk on, but he sprang after her, catching her by the +sleeve. + +"Look here! Be a sport. You've got the chance of your lifetime. It'll +mean no more to you than a part they'd give you in pictures--just a +rôle--and pay you a lot better." + +She was not blind to the advantages he laid before her. True, it might +be what she qualified as "bull" to get her into a trap; only she +didn't believe it. This man with the sick mind and anguished face was +none of the soft-spoken fiends whose business it is to ensnare young +girls. She knew all about them from living with Judson Flack, and +couldn't be mistaken. This fellow might be crazy, but he was what he +said. If he said he wouldn't do her any harm, he wouldn't. If he said +he would pay her well, he would. The main question was as to whether +or not, just for the sake of getting something to eat and a place to +sleep, she could deliberately put herself in a position in which the +man who had married her would have gone to the devil _because_ he had +married her. + +As he held her by the sleeve looking down at her, and she, half +turned, was looking up at him, this was the battle she was fighting. +Hitherto her impulse had been to run away from the scorn of her +inferiority; now she was asking herself what would happen if she took +up its challenge and fought it on its own ground. What if I do? was +the way the question framed itself, but aloud she made it. + +"If I said I would, what would happen first?" + +"We'd go and get a license. Then we'd find a minister. After that I +should give you something to eat, and then I'd take you home." + +"Where would that be?" + +He gave her his address in East Sixty-seventh Street, only a few doors +from Fifth Avenue, but her social sophistication was not up to the +point of seeing the significance of this. Neither did her imagination +try to picture the home or to see it otherwise than as an alternative +to the police-station, or worse, as a lodging for the night. + +"And what would happen to me when I got to your home?" + +"You'd have your own room. I shouldn't interfere with you. You'd +hardly ever see me. You could stay as long as you liked or as short as +you liked, after the first week or two." + +There was that about him which carried conviction. She believed him. +As an alternative to having nowhere to go, what he offered her was +something, and something with that spice of adventure of which she had +been dreaming only a few minutes earlier. She couldn't be worse off +than she was now, and if it gave her the chance of a hand-to-hand +tussle with the world-pride which had never done anything but look +down on her, she would be fighting what she held as her worst enemy. +She braced herself to say, + +"All right; I'll do it." + +He, too, braced himself. "Very well! Let's start." + +The impetuosity of his motion almost took her breath away as she tried +to keep pace with him. + +"By the way, what's your name?" he asked, before they reached Fifth +Avenue. + +She told him, but was too overwhelmed with what she had undertaken to +dare to ask him his. + + + + +Chapter IV + + +"Nao!" + +The strong cockney negative was also an exclamation. It came from Mrs. +Courage, the cook-housekeeper, who stood near the kitchen range making +the coffee for breakfast. She was a woman who looked her name, born +not merely to do battle, but to enjoy being in the midst of it. + +Jane, the waitress, was the next to speak. "Nettie Duckett, you ought +to be ashymed to sye them words, you that's been taught to 'ope the +best of everyone." + +Jane had fluttered in from the pantry with the covered dish for the +toast. Jane still fluttered at her work, as she had done for the past +thirty years. The late Mrs. Allerton had liked her about the table +because she was swift, deft, and moved lightly. A thin little woman, +with a profile resembling that of Punch's Judy, and a smile of +cheerful piety, she yielded to time only by a process of drying up. + +Nettie Duckett was quick in her own defense, but breathless, too, from +girlish laughter. "I can't 'elp syin' what I see, now can I? There she +was 'arf dressed in the little back spare-room. Oh, the commonest +thing! You wouldn't 'a wanted to sweep 'er out with a broom." + +"Pretty goin's on I must sye," Jane commented. "'Ope the best of +everyone I will, but when you think that we was all on the top +floor----" + +"Pretty goin's off there'll be, I can tell you that," Mrs. Courage +declared in her rich, decided bass. "Just let me 'ave a word with +Master Rashleigh. I'll tell 'im what 'is ma would 'ave said. She left +'im to me, she did. 'Courage,' she's told me many a time, 'that boy'll +be your boy after I'm gone.' As good as mykin' a will, I call it. And +now to think that with us right 'ere in the 'ouse.... Where's Steptoe? +Do 'e know anything about it?" + +"Do 'e know anything about what?" The question came from Steptoe +himself, who appeared on the threshold. + +The three women maintained a dramatic silence, while the old +butler-valet looked from one to another. + +"Seems as if there was news," he observed dryly. + +"Tell 'im, Nettie," Mrs. Courage commanded. + +Nettie was the young thing of the establishment, Mrs. Courage's own +niece, brought from England when the housemaid's place fell vacant on +Bessie's unexpected marriage to Walter Wildgoose, Miss Walbrook's +indoor man. Indeed she had been brought from England before Bessie's +marriage, of which Mrs. Courage had had advance information, so that +as soon as Bessie left, Nettie was on the spot to be smuggled into the +Allerton household. Steptoe had not forgiven this underhand movement +on Mrs. Courage's part, seeing that in the long-ago both she and Jane +had been his own nominees, and that he considered the household posts +as gifts at his disposal. "I'll 'ave to make a clean sweep o' the lot +o' them," he had more than once declared at those gatherings at which +the English butlers and valets of upper Fifth Avenue discuss their +complex of interests. Forty years in the Allerton family had made him +not merely its major-domo but in certain respects its head. His tone +toward Nettie was that of authority with a note of disapprobation. + +"Speak, girl, and do it without giggling. What 'ave you to tell?" + +Though she couldn't do it without giggling Nettie repeated the story +she had given to her aunt and Jane. She had gone into the small single +back bedroom on the floor below Mr. Allerton's, and there was a +half-dressed girl 'a-puttin' up of 'er 'air.' According to her own +statement Nettie had passed away on the spot, being able, however, to +articulate the question, "What are you a'doin' of 'ere?" To this the +young woman had replied that Mr. Allerton had brought her in on the +previous evening, telling her to sleep there, and there she had slept. +Nettie's information could go no further, but it was considered to go +far enough. + +"So what do you sye to _that_?" Mrs. Courage demanded of Steptoe; "you +that's always so ready to defend my young lord?" + +Steptoe was prepared to stand back to back with his employer. "I don't +defend 'im. I'm not called on to defend 'im. It's Mr. Rashleigh's +'ouse. Any guest of 'is must be your guest and mine." + +"And what about Miss Walbrook, 'er that's to be missus 'ere in the +course of a few weeks?" + +Steptoe colored, frostily. "She's not missus 'ere yet; and if she ever +comes, there'll be stormy weather for all of us. New missuses don't +generally get on with old servants like us--that's been in the family +for so many years--but when they don't, it ain't them as gets +notice." + +A bell rang sharply. Steptoe sprang to attention. + +"There's Mr. Rashleigh now. Don't you women go to mykin' a to-do. +There's lots o' troubles that 'ud never 'ave 'appened if women 'ad +been able to 'old their tongues." + +"But I suppose, Steptoe, you don't deny that there's such a thing as +right." + +"I don't deny that there's such a thing as right, Mrs. Courage, but I +only wonder if you knows more about it than the rest of us." + +In Allerton's room Steptoe found the young master of the house half +dressed. Standing before a mirror, he was brushing his hair. His face +and eyes, the reflection of which Steptoe caught in the glass, were +like those of a man on the edge of going insane. + +The old valet entered according to his daily habit and without +betraying the knowledge of anything unusual. All the same his heart +was sinking, as old hearts sink when beloved young ones are in +trouble. The boy was his darling. He had been with his father for ten +years before the lad was born, and had watched his growth with a more +than paternal devotion. "'E's all I 'ave," he often said to himself, +and had been known to let out the fact in the afore-mentioned group of +English upper servants, a small but exclusive circle in the multiplex +life of New York. + +In Steptoe's opinion Master Rash had never had a chance. Born many +years after his parents had lived together childlessly, he had come +into the world constitutionally neurasthenic. Steptoe had never known +a boy who needed more to be nursed along and coaxed along by +affection, and now and then by indulgence. Instead, the system of +severity had been applied with results little short of calamitous. He +had been sent to schools famous for religion and discipline, from +which he reacted in the first weeks of freedom in college, getting +into dire academic scrapes. Further severity had led to further +scrapes, and further scrapes to something like disgrace, when the war +broke out and a Red Cross job had kept him from going to the bad. The +mother had been a self-willed and selfish woman, claiming more from +her son than she ever gave him, and never perceiving that his was a +nature requiring a peculiar kind of care. After her death Steptoe had +prayed for a kind, sweet wife to come to the boy's rescue, and the +answer had been Miss Barbara Walbrook. + +When the engagement was announced, Steptoe had given up hope. Of Miss +Walbrook as a woman he had nothing to complain. Walter Wildgoose +reported her a noble creature, splendid, generous, magnificent, only +needing a strong hand. She was of the type not to be served but to be +mastered. Rashleigh Allerton would goad her to frenzy, and she would +do the same by him. She was already doing it. For weeks past Steptoe +could see it plainly enough, and what would happen after they were +married God alone knew. For himself he saw no future but to hang on +after the wedding as long as the new mistress of the house would allow +him, take his dismissal as an inevitable thing, and sneak away and +die. + +It was part of Steptoe's training not to notice anything till his +attention was called to it. So having said his "Good-morning, sir," he +went to the closet, took down the hanger with the coat and waistcoat +belonging to the suit of which he saw that Allerton had put on the +trousers, and waited till the young man was ready for his +ministrations. + +Allerton was still brushing his hair, as he said over his shoulder: +"There's a young woman in the house, Steptoe. Been here all night." + +"Yes, sir; I know--in the little back spare-room." + +"Who told you?" + +"Nettie went in for a pincushion, Mr. Rash, and the young woman was +a-doin' of 'er 'air." + +"What did Nettie say?" + +"It ain't what Nettie says, sir, if I may myke so bold. It's what Mrs. +Courage and Jane says." + +"Tell Mrs. Courage and Jane they needn't be alarmed. The young woman +is--" Steptoe caught the spasm which contracted the boy's face--"the +young woman is--my wife." + +"Quite so, sir." + +If Allerton went no further, Steptoe could go no further; but inwardly +he was like a man reprieved at the last minute, and against all hope, +from sentence of death. "Then it won't be '_er_," was all he could say +to himself, "'er" being Barbara Walbrook. Whatever calamity had +happened, that calamity at least would be escaped, which was so much +to the good. + +His arms trembled so that he could hardly hold up the waistcoat for +Allerton to slip it on. But he didn't slip it on. Instead he wheeled +round from the mirror, threw the brushes with a crash to the toilet +table, and cried with a rage all the more raging for being impotent: + +"Steptoe, I've been every kind of fool." + +"Yes, sir, I expect so." + +"You've got to get me out of it, Steptoe. You must find a way to save +me." + +"I'll do my best, sir." The joy of cooperation with the lad almost +made up for the anguish at his anguish. "What 'ud it be--you must +excuse me, Mr. Rash--but what 'ud it be that you'd like me to save you +from?" + +Allerton threw out his arms. "From this crazy marriage. This frightful +mix-up. I went right off the handle yesterday. I was an infernal +idiot. And now I'm in for it. Something's got to be done, Steptoe, and +I can't think of any one but you to do it." + +"Quite so, sir. Will you 'ave your wystcoat on now, sir? You're ready +for it, I see. I'll think it over, Mr. Rash, and let you know." + +While first the waistcoat and then the coat were extended and slipped +over the shoulders, Allerton did his best to put Steptoe in possession +of the mad facts of the previous day. Though the account he gave was +incoherent, the old man understood enough. + +"It wasn't her fault, you must understand," Allerton explained +further, as Steptoe brushed his hat. "She didn't want to. I persuaded +her. I wanted to do something that would wring Miss Walbrook's +heart--and I've done it! Wrung my own, too! What's to become of me, +Steptoe? Is the best thing I can do to shoot myself? Think it over. +I'm ready to. I'm not sure that it wouldn't be a relief to get out of +this rotten life. I'm all on edge. I could jump out of that window as +easily as not. But it wasn't the girl's fault. She's a poor little +waif of a thing. You must look after her and keep me from seeing her +again, but she's not bad--only--only--Oh, my God! my God!" + +He covered his face with his hands and rocked himself about, so that +Steptoe was obliged to go on brushing till his master calmed himself. + +"Do you think, sir," he said then, "that this is the 'at to go with +this 'ere suit? I think as the brown one would be a lot chicker--tone +in with the sort of fawn stripe in the blue like, and ketch the note +in your tie." He added, while diving into the closet in search of the +brown hat and bringing it out, "There's one thing I could say right +now, Mr. Rash, and I think it might 'elp." + +"What is it?" + +"Do you remember the time when you 'urt your leg 'unting down in Long +Island?" + +"Yes; what about it?" + +"You was all for not payin' it no attention and for 'oppin' about as +if you 'adn't 'urt it at all. A terr'ble fuss you myde when the doctor +said as you was to keep still. Anybody 'ud 'ave thought 'e'd bordered +a hamputation. And yet it was keepin' still what got you out o' the +trouble, now wasn't it?" + +"Well?" + +"Well, now you're in a worse trouble still it might do the syme again. +I'm a great believer in keepin' still, I am." + +Allerton was off again. "How in thunder am I to keep still when----?" + +"I'll tell you one wye, sir. Don't talk. Don't _do_ nothink. Don't +beat your 'ead against the wall. Be quiet. Tyke it natural. You've +done this thing. Well, you 'aven't committed a murder. You 'aven't +even done a wrong to the young lydy to whom you was engyged. By what I +understand she'd jilted you, and you was free to marry any one you +took a mind to." + +"Nominally, perhaps, but----" + +"If you're nominally free, sir, you're free, by what I can understand; +and if you've gone and done a foolish thing it ain't no one's business +but your own." + +"Yes, but I can't stand it!" + +"O' course you can't stand it, sir, but it's because you can't stand +it that I'm arskin' of you to keep just as quiet as you can. Mistykes +in our life is often like the twists we'll give to our bodies. They'll +ache most awful, but let nyture alone and she'll tyke care of 'em. +It's jest so with our mistykes. Let life alone and she'll put 'em +stryght for us, nine times out o' ten, better than we can do it by +workin' up into a wax." + +Calmed to some extent Allerton went off to the club for breakfast, +being unable to face this meal at home. Steptoe tidied up the room. He +was troubled and yet relieved. It was a desperate case, but he had +always found that in desperate cases desperate remedies were close at +hand. + + + + +Chapter V + + +"See that the poor thing gets some breakfast," had been Allerton's +parting command, and having finished the room, Steptoe went down the +flight of stairs to carry out this injunction. + +He was on the third step from the landing when the door of the back +room opened, and a little, gray figure, hatted and jacketed, crept out +stealthily. She was plainly ready for the street, an intention +understood by Beppo, the late Mrs. Allerton's red cocker spaniel, who +was capering about her in the hope of sharing the promenade. + +As Steptoe came to a halt, the girl ran toward him. + +"Oh, mister, I gotta get out of this swell dump. Show me the way, for +God's sake!" + +To say that Steptoe was thinking rapidly would be to describe his +mental processes incorrectly. He never thought; he received +illuminations. Some such enlightenment came to him now, inducing him +to say, ceremoniously, "Madam can't go without 'er breakfast." + +"I don't want any breakfast," she protested, breathlessly. "All I want +is to get away. I'm frightened." + +"I assure madam that there's nothink to be afryde of in this 'ouse. +Mr. Allerton is the most honorable--" he pronounced the initial +_h_--"young man that hever was born. I valeted 'is father before 'im +and know that 'e wouldn't 'urt a fly. If madam'll trust me--Besides, +Mr. Allerton left word with me as you was to be sure to 'ave your +breakfast, and I shouldn't know how to fyce 'im if 'e was to know that +you'd gone awye without so much as a hegg." + +She wrung her hands. "I don't want to see him. I couldn't." + +"Madam won't see 'im. 'E's gone for the dye. 'E don't so often heat at +'ome--'ardly never." + +Of the courses before her Letty saw that yielding was the easiest. +Besides, it would give her her breakfast, which was a consideration. +Though she had nominally dined on the previous evening, she had not +been able to eat; she had been too terrified. Never would she forget +the things that had happened after she had given her consent in the +Park. + +Not that outwardly they had been otherwise than commonplace. It was +going through them at all! The man was as nearly "off his chump"--the +expression was hers--as a human being could be without laying himself +open to arrest. After calling the taxi in Fifth Avenue he had walked +up and down, compelling her to walk by his side, for a good fifteen +minutes before making her get in and springing in beside her. At the +house opposite he had stared and stared, as if hoping that some one +would look out. During the drive to the place where they got the +license, and later to the minister's house, he spoke not a word. In +the restaurant to which he took her afterward, the most glorious place +she had ever been in, he ordered a feast suited to a queen, but she +could hardly do more than taste it. She felt that the waiter was +looking at them strangely, and she didn't know the uses of the knives +and forks. The man she had married offered her no help, neither +speaking to her nor giving her a glance. He himself ate but little, +lost in some mental maze to which she had no clue. + +After dinner he had proposed the theatre, but she had refused. She +couldn't go anywhere else with him. Wherever they moved, a thousand +eyes were turned in amazement at the extraordinary pair. He saw +nothing, but she was alive to it all--more conscious of her hat and +suit than even in the street scene in "The Man with the Emerald Eye." +Once and for all she became aware that the first standard for human +valuation is in clothes. + +In the end they had got into another taxi, to be driven round and +round the Park and out along the river bank, till he decided that they +might go home. During all this time he hardly noticed her. Once he +asked her if she was warm enough, and once if she would like to get +out and take a walk along the parapet above the river, but otherwise +he was withdrawn into a world which he kept shut and locked against +her. That left her alone. She had never felt so much alone in her +life, not even in the days which followed her mother's death. It was +as if she had been snatched away from everything with which she was +familiar, to find herself stranded in a country of fantastic dreams. + +Then there was the house and the little back room. By the use of his +latchkey they had entered a palace huge and dark. Letty didn't know +that people lived with so much space around them. Only a hall light +burned in a many-colored oriental lamp, and in the half-gloom the +rooms on each side of the entry were cavernous. There was not a +servant, not a sound. The only living thing was a little dog which +pattered out of the obscurity and, raising his paws against her skirt, +adopted her instantaneously. + +"He was my mother's dog," Allerton explained briefly. "He likes women, +but not men, though he's never taken to the women in the house. He'll +probably like you. His name is Beppo. I'll show you up at once." + +The grandeur of the staircase was overpowering, and the little back +spare-room of a magnificence beyond all her experience outside of +movie-sets. The flowers on the chintz coverings were prettier than +real ones, and there was a private bath. Letty had heard of private +baths, but no picture she had ever painted equaled this dainty +apartment in which everything was of spotless white except where a +flight of blue-gray gulls skimmed over a blue summer sea. + +The objects in the bedroom were too lovely to live with. On the toilet +table were boxes and trays which Letty supposed must be priceless, and +a set of brushes with silver backs. She couldn't brush her hair with a +brush with a silver back, because it would be journeying too far +beyond real life into that of fairy princesses. On opening the closet +to hang up her jacket the very hangers were puffed and covered with +the "sweetest flowered silks," so she hung her jacket on a peg. + +But she wasn't comfortable, she wasn't happy. Alice had traveled too +far into Wonderland, and too suddenly. Unwillingly she lay down in a +bed too clean and soft for the human form, but she couldn't sleep in +it. She could only tremble and toss and lie awake and wish for the +morning. With the dawn she would be up and off, before any one caught +sight of her. + +For Allerton had used words which had terrified her more than anything +that had yet happened or been said--"the other women in the house!" +Not till then had she sufficiently visualized the life into which he +was taking her to understand that there would be other women there. +Now that she knew it, she couldn't face them. She could have faced +men. Men, after all, were simple creatures with only a rudimentary +power of judgment. But women! God! She pulled the eiderdown about her +head so as not to cry out so loudly that she would be heard. What mad +thing had she done? What had she let herself in for? She didn't ask +what kind of women they would be--members of his family or servants. +She didn't care. All women were alike. The woman was not born who +wouldn't view a girl in her unconventional situation, "and especially +in that rig"--once more the expression was her own--without a +condemnation which Letty could not and would not submit herself to. So +she would get up and steal away with the first gleam of light. + +She got up with the first gleam of light, but she couldn't steal away. +Once more she was afraid. Unlocking the door, she dared not venture +out. Who knew where, in that palace of cavernous apartments, she might +meet a woman, or what the woman would say to her? When Nettie walked +in later, humming a street air, Letty almost died from shame. For one +thing, she hadn't yet put on her shirtwaist, which in itself was poor +enough, and as she stood exposed without it, any other of her sex +could see.... She had once been on the studio lot when a girl of about +her own age, a "supe" like herself, was arrested for thieving in the +women's dressing-rooms. Letty had never forgotten the look in that +girl's face as she passed out through the crowd of her colleagues. In +Nettie's presence she felt like that girl's look. + +She had no means of telling the time, but when she could no longer +endure the imprisonment she decided to make a bolt for it. She hadn't +been thieving, and so they couldn't do anything to her--and there was +a chance at least that she might get away. Opening the door +cautiously, she stole out on the landing, and there was, not a woman, +but a man! + +Joy! A man would listen to her appeal. He would see that she was poor, +common, unequal to a dump so swell, and would be human and tender. He +was a nice looking old man too--she was able to notice that--with a +long, kindly face on which there were two spots of bloom as if he had +been rouged. So she capitulated to his plea, making only the condition +that if she took the hegg--she pronounced the word as he did, not +being sure as to what it meant--she should be free to go. + +"Certainly, if madam wishes it. I'm sure the last thing Mr. Allerton +would desire would be to detain madam against 'er will." + +She allowed herself to be ushered down the monumental stairs and into +the dining-room, which awed her with the solemnity of a church. She +knew at once that she wouldn't be able to eat amid this stateliness +any more than in the glitter of last evening's restaurant. She had +yielded, however, and there was nothing for it but to sit down at the +head of the table in the chair which Steptoe drew out for her. +Guessing at her most immediate embarrassment, he showed her what to do +by unfolding the napkin and laying it in her lap. + +"Now, if madam will excuse me, I'll slip awye and tell Jyne." + +But telling Jyne was not so simple a matter as it looked. The council +in the kitchen, which at first had been a council and no more, was now +a council of war. As Steptoe entered, Mrs. Courage was saying: + +"I shall go to Mr. Rashleigh 'imself and tell 'im that hunder the syme +roof with a baggage none of us will stye." + +"You can syve yourself the trouble, Mrs. Courage," Steptoe informed +her. "Mr. Rash 'as just gone out. Besides, I've good news for all of +you." He waited for each to take an appropriate expression, Mrs. +Courage determined, Jane with face eager and alight, Nettie tittering +behind her hand. "Miss Walbrook, which all of us 'as dreaded, is not +a-comin' to our midst. The young lydy Nettie see in the back +spare-room is Mr. Rashleigh's wife." + +"Wife!" Mrs. Courage threw up her hands and staggered backward. "'Im +that 'is mother left to me! 'Courage,' says she, 'when I'm gone----'" + +Jane crept forward, horrified, stunned. "Them things can't be, +Steptoe." + +"Mr. Rash told me so 'imself. I don't know what more we want than +that." Steptoe was not without his diplomacy. "It's a fine thing for +us, girls. This sweet young lydy is not goin' to myke us no trouble +like what the other one would, and belongs right in our own class." + +"'Enery Steptoe, speak for yourself," Mrs. Courage said, severely. +"There's no baggages in my class, nor never was, nor never will be." + +Jane began to cry. "I'm sure I try to think the best of everyone, but +when such awful things 'appens and 'omes is broken up----" + +"Jynie," Steptoe said with authority, "the young missus is wytin' for +'er breakfast. 'Ave the goodness to tyke 'er in 'er grypefruit." + +"Jyne Cakebread," Mrs. Courage declared, with an authority even +greater than Steptoe's, "the first as tykes a grypefruit into that +dinin'-room, to set before them as I shouldn't demean myself to nyme, +comes hunder my displeasure." + +"I couldn't, Steptoe," Jane pleaded helplessly. "All my life I've +wyted on lydies. 'Ow can you expect me to turn over a new leaf at my +time o' life?" + +"Nettie?" Steptoe made the appeal magisterially. + +"Oh, I'll do it," Nettie giggled. "'Appy to get another look at 'er. I +sye, she's a sight!" + +But Mrs. Courage barred the way. "My niece will wyte on people of +doubtful conduck over my dead corpse." + +"Very well, then, Mrs. Courage," Steptoe reasoned. "If you won't serve +the new missus, Mr. Rashleigh, will 'ave to get some one else who +will." + +"Mr. Rashleigh will 'ave to do that very selfsame thing. Not another +night will none of us sleep hunder this paternal roof with them that +their very presence is a houtrage. 'Enery Steptoe was always a +time-server, and a time-server 'e will be, but as for us women, we +shall see the new missus in goin' in to give 'er notice. Not a month's +notice, it won't be. This range as I've cooked at for nearly thirty +years I shall cook at no more, not so much as for lunch. Oh, dear! Oh, +dear! What's the world comin' to?" + +In spite of her strength of character Mrs. Courage threw her apron +over her head and burst into tears. Jane was weeping already. + +"There, there, aunt," Nettie begged, patting her relative between the +shoulders. "What's the good o' goin' on like that just because a silly +ass 'as married beneath 'im?" + +Mrs. Courage pulled her apron from her face to cry out with passion: + +"If 'e was goin' to disgryce 'imself like that, why couldn't 'e 'a +taken you?" + +So Steptoe waited on Letty himself, bringing in the grapefruit, the +coffee, the egg, and the toast, and seeing that she knew how to deal +with each in the proper forms. He was so brooding, so yearning, so +tactful, as he bent over her, that she was never at a loss as to the +fork or spoon she ought to use, or the minute at which to use it. +Under his protection Letty ate. She ate, first because she was young +and hungry, and then because she felt him standing between her and all +vague terrors. By the time she had finished, he moved in front of her, +where he could speak as one human being to another. + +Taking an empty plate from the table to put it on the sideboard, he +said: "I 'ope madam is chyngin' 'er mind about leavin' us." + +Letty glanced up shyly in spite of being somewhat reassured. "What'ud +be the good of my changin' my mind when--when I'm not fit to stay?" + +"Madam means not fit in the sense that----" + +"I'm not a lady." + +Resting one hand on the table, he looked down into her eyes with an +expression such as Letty had never before seen in a human face. + +"I could myke a lydy of madam." + +At the sound of these quiet words, so confidently spoken, something +passed through Letty's frame to be described only by the hard-worked +word, a thrill. It was a double current of vibration, partly of +upleaping hope, partly of the desperate sense of her own limitations. +A hundred points of gold dust were aflame in her irises as she said: + +"You mean that you'd put me wise? Oh, but I'd never learn!" + +"On the contrary, I think madam would pick up very quick." + +"And I'd never be able to talk the right----" + +"I could learn madam to talk just as good as me." + +It seemed too much. She clasped her hands. It was the nearest point +she had ever reached to ecstasy. "Oh, do you think you could? You talk +somethin' beautiful, you do!" + +He smiled modestly. "I've always lived with the best people, and I +suppose I ketch their wyes. I know what a gentleman is--and a lydy. I +know all a lydy's little 'abits, and before two or three months was +over madam 'ud 'ave them as natural as natural, if she wouldn't think +me overbold." + +"When 'ud you begin?" + +The bright spot deepened in each cheek. "I've begun already, if madam +won't think me steppin' out o' my plyce to sye so, in showin' madam +the spoons and forks for the different----" + +Letty colored, too. "Yes, I saw that. I take it as very kind. But--" +she looked at him with a puzzled knitting of the brows--"but what +makes you take all this trouble for me?" + +"I've two reasons, madam, but I'll only tell you one of 'em just now. +The other'll keep. I'll myke it known to you if--if all goes as I +'ope." He straightened himself up. "I don't often speak o' this," he +continued, "because among us butlers and valets it wouldn't be +understood. Most of us is what's known as conservative, all for the +big families and the old wyes. Well, so am I--to a point. But----" + +He moved a number of objects on the table before he could go on. "I +wasn't born to the plyce I 'old now," he explained after getting his +material at command. "I wasn't born to nothink. I was what they calls +in England a foundlin'--a byby what's found--what 'is parents 'ave +thrown awye. I don't know who my father and mother was, or what was my +real nyme. 'Enery Steptoe is just a nyme they give me at the +Horphanage. But I won't go into that. I'm just tryin' to tell madam +that my life was a 'ard one, quite a 'ard one, till I come to New York +as footman for Mr. Allerton's father, and afterward worked up to be +'is valet and butler." + +He cleared his throat. Expressing ideals was not easy. "I 'ope madam +will forgive me if I sye that what it learned me was a fellow-feelin' +with my own sort--with the poor. I've often wished as I could go out +among the poor and ryse them up. I ain't a socialist--a little bit of +a anarchist perhaps, but nothink extreme--and yet--Well, if Mr. +Rashleigh had married a rich girl, I would 'a tyken it as natural and +done my best for 'im, but since 'e 'asn't--Oh, can't madam see? +It's--it's a kind o' pride with me to find some one like--like what I +was when I was 'er age--out in the cold like--and bring 'er in--and +'elp 'er to tryne 'erself--so--so as--some day--to beat the best--them +as 'as 'ad all the chances----" + +He was interrupted by the tinkle of the telephone. It was a relief. He +had said all he needed to say, all he knew how to say. Whether madam +understood it or not he couldn't tell, since she didn't seize ideas +quickly. + +"If madam will excuse me now, I'll go and answer that call." + +But Letty sprang up in alarm. "Oh, don't leave me. Some of them women +will blow in----" + +"None of them women will _come_--" he threw a delicate emphasis on the +word--"if madam'll just sit down. They don't mean to come. I'll +explyne that to madam when I come back, if she'll only not leave this +room." + + + + +Chapter VI + + +"Good morning, Steptoe. Will you ask Mr. Allerton if he'll speak to +Miss Walbrook?" + +"Mr. Allerton 'as gone to the New Netherlands club for 'is breakfast, +miss." + +"Oh, thanks. I'll call him up there." + +She didn't want to call him up there, at a club, where a man must like +to feel safe from feminine intrusion, but the matter was too pressing +to permit of hesitation. Since the previous afternoon she had gone +through much searching of heart. She was accustomed to strong +reactions from tempestuousness to penitence, but not of the violence +of this one. + +Summoned to the telephone, Allerton felt as if summoned to the bar of +judgment. He divined who it was, and he divined the reason for the +call. + +"Good morning, Rash!" + +His voice was absolutely dead. "Good morning, Barbara!" + +"I know you're cross with me for calling you at the club." + +"Oh, no! Not at all!" + +"But I couldn't wait any longer. I wanted you to know--I've got it on +again, Rash--never to come off any more." + +He was dumb. Thirty seconds at least went by, and he had made no +response. + +"Aren't you glad?" + +"I--I could have been glad--if--if I'd known you were going to do +it." + +"And now you know that it's done." + +He repeated in his lifeless voice, "Yes, now I know that it's done." + +"Well?" + +Again he was silent. Two or three times he tried to find words, +producing nothing but a stammering of incoherent syllables. "I--I +can't talk about it here, Barbe," he managed to articulate at last. +"You must let me come round and see you." + +It was her voice now that was dead. "When will you come, Rash?" + +"Now--at once--if you can see me." + +"Then come." + +She put up the receiver without saying more. He knew that she knew. +She knew at least that something had happened which was fatal to them +both. + +She received him not in the drawing-room, but in a little den on the +right of the front door which was also alive with Miss Walbrook's +modern personality. A gold-colored portière from Albert Herter's looms +screened them from the hall, and the chairs were covered with bits of +Herter tapestry representing fruits. A cabinet of old white Bennington +faience stood against a wall, which was further adorned with three or +four etchings of Sears Gallagher's. Barbara wore a lacy thing in +hydrangea-colored crêpe de chine, loosely girt with a jade-green +ribbon tasselled in gold, the whole bringing out the faintly Egyptian +note in her personality. + +They dispensed with a greeting, because she spoke the minute he +crossed the threshold of the room. + +"Rash, what is it? Why couldn't you tell me on the telephone?" + +He wished now that he had. It would have saved this explanation face +to face. "Because I couldn't. Because--because I've been too much of +an idiot to--to tell you about it--either on the telephone or in any +other way." + +"How?" He thought she must understand, but she seemed purposely dense. +"Sit down. Tell me about it. It can't be so terrible--all of a sudden +like this." + +He couldn't sit down. He could only turn away from her and gulp in his dry +throat. "You remember what I said--what I said--yesterday--about--about +the--the Gissing fellow?" + +She nodded fiercely. "Yes. Go on. Get it out." + +"Well--well--I've--I've done that." + +She threw out her arms. She threw back her head till the little +nut-brown throat was taut. The cry rent her. It rent him. + +"You--_fool_!" + +He stood with head hanging. He longed to run away, and yet he longed +also to throw himself at her feet. If he could have done exactly as he +felt impelled, he would have laid his head on her breast and wept like +a child. + +She swung away from him, pacing the small room like a frenzied animal. +Her breath came in short, hard pantings that were nearly sobs. +Suddenly she stopped in front of him with a sort of calm. + +"What made you?" + +He barely lifted his agonized black eyes. "You," + +She was in revolt again. "I? What did I do?" + +"You--you threw away my ring. You said it was all--all over." + +"Well? Couldn't I say that without driving you to act the madman? No +one but a madman would have gone out of this house and--" She clasped +her forehead in her hands with a dramatic lifting of the arms. "Oh! +It's too much! I don't care about myself. But to have it on your +conscience that a man has thrown his life away----" + +He asked meekly, "What good was it to me when you wouldn't have it?" + +She stamped her foot. "Rash, you'll drive me insane. Your life might +be no good to you at all, and yet you might give it a chance for +twenty-four hours--that isn't much, is it?--before you--" She caught +herself up. "Tell me. You don't mean to say that you're _married_?" + +He nodded. + +"To whom?" + +"Her first name is Letty. I've forgotten the second name." + +"Where did you find her?" + +"Over there in the Park." + +"And she went and married you--like that?" + +"She was all alone--chucked out by a stepfather----" + +She burst into a hard laugh. "Oh, you baby! You believed that? The +kind of story that's told by nine of the----" + +[Illustration: BY THE TIME HE HAD FINISHED, HIS HEART WAS A LITTLE EASED +AND SOME OF HER TENDERNESS BEGAN TO FLOW TOWARD HIM] + +He interrupted quickly. "Don't call her anything, Barbe--I mean any +kind of a bad name. She's all right as far as that goes. There's a +kind that couldn't take you in." + +"There's _no_ kind that couldn't take _you_ in!" + +"Perhaps not, but it's the one thing in--in this whole idiotic +business that's on the level--I mean she is. I'd give my right hand to +put her back where I found her yesterday--just as she was--but she's +straight." + +She dropped into a chair. The first wild tumult of rage having more or +less spent its force, she began, with a kind of heart-broken +curiosity, to ask for the facts. She spoke nervously, beating a palm +with a gold tassel of her girdle. "Begin at the beginning. Tell me all +about it." + +He leaned on the mantelpiece, of which the only ornaments were a +child's head in white and blue terra cotta by Paul Manship, balanced +by a pair of old American glass candlesticks, and told the tale as +consecutively as he could. He recounted everything, even to the +bringing her home, the putting her in the little, back spare-room, and +her adoption by Beppo, the red cocker spaniel. By the time he had +finished, his heart was a little eased, and some of her tenderness +toward him was beginning to flow forth. She was like that, all wrath +at one minute, all gentleness the next. Springing to her feet, she +caught him by the arm, pressing herself against him. + +"All right, Rash. You've done it. That's settled. But it can be undone +again." + +He pressed her head back from him, resting the knot of her hair in +the hollow of his palm and looking down into her eyes. + +"How can it be undone?" + +"Oh, there must be ways. A man can't be allowed to ruin his life--to +ruin two lives--for a prank. We'll just have to think. If you made it +worth while for her to take you, you can make it worth while for her +to let you go. She'll do it." + +"She'd do it, of course. She doesn't care. I'm nothing to her, not any +more than she to me. I shan't see her any more than I can help. I +suppose she must stay at the house till--I told Steptoe to look after +her." + +She took a position at one end of the mantelpiece, while he faced her +from the other. She gave him wise counsel. He was to see his lawyers +at once and tell them the whole story. Lawyers always saw the way out +of things. There was the Bellington boy who married a show-girl. She +had been bought off, and the lawyers had managed it. Now the +Bellington boy was happily married to one of the Plantagenet Jones +girls and lived at Marillo Park. Then there was the Silliman boy who +had married the notorious Kate Cookesley. The lawyers had found the +way out of that, too, and now the Silliman boy was a secretary of the +American Embassy in Rome. Accidents such as had happened to Rash were +regrettable of course, but it would be folly to think that a perfectly +good life must be done for just because it had got a crack in it. + +"We'll play the game, of course," she wound up. "But it's a game, and +the stronger side must win. What should you say of my going to see +her--she needn't know who I am further than that I'm a friend of +yours--and finding out for myself?" + +"Finding out what?" + +"Finding out her price, silly. What do you suppose? A woman can often +see things like that where a man would be blind." + +He didn't know. He thought it might be worth while. He would leave it +to her. "I'm not worth the trouble, Barbe," he said humbly. + +With this she agreed. "I know you're not. I can't think for a minute +why I take it or why I should like you. But I do. That's straight." + +"And I adore you, Barbe." + +She shrugged her shoulders with a little, comic grimace. "Oh, well! I +suppose every one has his own way of showing adoration, but I must say +that yours is original." + +"If it's original to be desperate when the woman you worship drives +you to despair----" + +There was another little comic grimace, though less comic than the +first time. "Oh, yes, I know. It's always the woman whom a man +worships that's in the wrong. I've noticed that. Men are never +impossible--all of their own accord." + +"I could be as tame as a cat if----" + +"If it wasn't for me. Thank you, Rash. I said just now I was fond of +you, and I should have to be to--to stand for all the----" + +"I'm not blaming you, Barbe. I'm only----" + +"Thanks again. The day you're not blaming me is certainly one to be +marked with a white stone, as the Romans used to say. But if it comes +to blaming any one, Rash, after what happened yesterday----" + +"What happened yesterday wasn't begun by me. It would never have +entered my mind to do the crazy thing I did, if you hadn't positively +and finally--as I thought--flung me down. I think you must do me that +justice, Barbe--that justice, at the least." + +"Oh, I do you justice enough. I don't see that you can complain of +that. It seems to me too that I temper justice with mercy to a degree +that--that most people find ridiculous." + +"By most people I suppose you mean your aunt." + +"Oh, do leave Aunt Marion out of it. You can't forgive the poor thing +for not liking you. Well, she doesn't, and I can't help it. She thinks +you're a----" + +"A fool--as you were polite enough to say just now." + +She spread her hands apart in an attitude of protestation. "Well, if I +did, Rash, surely you must admit that I had provocation." + +"Oh, of course. The wonder is that with the provocation you can----" + +"Forgive you, and try to patch it up again after this frightful gash +in the agreement. Well, it _is_ a wonder. I don't believe that many +girls----" + +"I only want you to understand, Barbe, that the gash in the agreement +was made, not by what I did, but what you did. If you hadn't sent me +to the devil, I shouldn't have been in such a hurry to go there." + +She was off. "Yes, there you are again. Always me! I'm the one! You +may be the gunpowder, the perfectly harmless gunpowder, but it would +never blow up if I didn't come as the match. _I_ make all the +explosions. _I_ set you crazy. _I_ send you to the devil. _I_ make you +go and marry a girl you never laid eyes on in your life before." + +So it was the same old scene all over again, till both were exhausted, +and she had flung herself into a chair to cover her face with her +hands and burst into tears. Instantly he was on his knees beside her. + +"Barbe! Barbe! My beloved Barbe! Don't cry. I'm a brute. I'm a fool. +I'm not satisfied with breaking my own heart, but I must go to work +and break yours. Oh, Barbe, forgive me. I'm all to pieces. Forgive me +and let me go away and shoot myself. What's the good of a poor, +wrecked creature like me hanging on and making such a mess of things? +Let me kill myself before I kill you----" + +"Oh, hush!" + +Seizing his head, she pressed it against her bosom convulsively. By +the shaking of his shoulders, she felt him sob. He _was_ a poor +creature. She was saying so to herself. But just because he was, +something in her yearned over him. He _could_ be different; he could +be stronger and of value in the world if there was only some one to +handle him rightly. She could do it--if she could only learn to handle +herself. She _would_ learn to handle herself--for his sake. He was +worth saving. He had fine qualities, and a good heart most of all. It +was his very fineness which put him out of place in a world like that +of New York. He was a delicate, brittle, highly-wrought thing which +should be touched only with the greatest care, and all his life he had +been pushed and hurtled about as if he were a football player or a +business man. With the soul of a poet or a painter or a seer, he had +been treated like the typical rough-and-ready American lad, till the +sensitive nature had been brutalized, maimed, and frenzied. + +She knew that. It was why she cared for him. Even when they were +children she had seen that he wasn't getting fair treatment, either at +home or in school or among the boys and girls with whom they both grew +up. He was the exception, and American life allowed only for the rule. +If you couldn't conform to the rule, you were guyed and tormented and +ejected. Among all his associates she alone knew what he suffered, and +because she knew it a vast pity made her cling to him. He had forced +himself into the life of clubs, into the life of society, into the +life of other men as other men lived their lives, and the effect on +him had been so nearly ruinous that it was no wonder if he was always +on the edge of nervous explosion. His very wealth which might have +been a protection was, under the uniform pressure of American social +habit, an incitement to him to follow the wrong way. She knew it, and +she alone. She could save him, and she alone. She could save him, if +she could first of all save herself. + +With his head pressed against her she made the vow as she had made it +fifty times already. She would be gentle with him; she would be +patient; she would let him work off on her the agony of his suffering +nerves, and smile at him through it all. She would help him out of the +idiotic situation in which he found himself. The other girl was only +an incident, as the show-girl had been to the Bellington boy, and +could be disposed of. She attached to that only a secondary importance +in comparison with the whole thing--her saving him. She would save +him, even if it meant rooting out every instinct in her soul. + +But as he made his way blindly back to the club, his own conclusions +were different. He must go to the devil. He must go to the devil now, +whatever else he did. Going to the devil would set her free from him. +It was the only thing that would. It would set him free from the other +woman, set him free from life itself. Life tortured him. He was a +misfit in it. He should never have been born. He had always understood +that his parents hadn't wanted children and that his coming had been +resented. You couldn't be born like that and find it natural to be in +the world. He had never found it natural. He couldn't remember the +time when he hadn't been out of his element in life, and now he must +recognize the fact courageously. + +It would be easy enough. He had worked up an artificial appetite for +all that went under the head of debauchery. It had meant difficult +schooling at first, because his natural tastes were averse to that +kind of thing, but he had been schooled. Schooled was the word, since +his training had begun under the very roof where his father had sent +him to get religion and discipline. There had been no let-up in this +educational course, except when he himself had stolen away, generally +in solitude, for a little holiday. + +But as he put it to himself, he knew all the roads and by-paths and +cross-country leaps that would take him to the gutter, and to the +gutter he would go. + + + + +Chapter VII + + +And all this while Letty was in the dining-room, learning certain +lessons from her new-found friend. + +For some little time she had been alone. Steptoe finished his +conversation with Miss Walbrook on the telephone, but did not come +back. She sat at the table feeding Beppo with bread and milk, but +wondering if, after all, she hadn't better make a bolt for it. She had +had her breakfast, which was an asset to the good, and nothing worse +could happen to her out in the open world than she feared in this +great dim, gloomy house. She had once crept in to look at the +cathedral and, overwhelmed by its height, immensity, and mystery, had +crept out again. Its emotional suggestions had been more than she +could bear. She felt now as if her bed had been made and her food laid +out in that cathedral--as if, as long as she remained, she must eat +and sleep in this vast, pillared solemnity. + +And that was only one thing. There were small practical considerations +even more terrible to confront. If Nettie were to appear again ... + +But it was as to this that Steptoe was making his appeal. "I sye, +girls, don't you go to mykin' a fuss and spoilin' your lives, when +you've got a chanst as'll never come again." + +Mrs. Courage answered for them all. To sacrifice decency to +self-interest wasn't in them, nor never would be. Some there might be, +like 'Enery Steptoe, who would sell their birthright for a mess of +pottage, but Mary Ann Courage was not of that company, nor any other +woman upon whom she could use her influence. If a hussy had been put +to reign over them, reigned over by a hussy none of them would be. All +they asked was to see her once, to deliver the ultimatum of giving +notice. + +"It's a strynge thing to me," Steptoe reasoned, "that when one poor +person gets a lift, every other poor person comes down on 'em." + +"And might we arsk who you means by poor persons?" + +"Who should I mean, Mrs. Courage, but people like us? If we don't 'ang +by each other, who _will_ 'ang by us, I should like to know? 'Ere's +one of us plyced in a 'igh position, and instead o' bein' proud of it, +and givin' 'er a lift to carry 'er along, you're all for mykin' it as +'ard for 'er as you can. Do you call that sensible?" + +"I call it sensible for everyone to stye in their proper spere." + +"So that if a man's poor, you must keep 'im poor, no matter 'ow 'e +tries to better 'imself. That's what your proper speres would come +to." + +But argument being of no use, Steptoe could only make up his mind to +revolution in the house. "The poor's very good to the poor when one of +'em's in trouble," was his summing up, "but let one of 'em 'ave an +extry stroke of luck, and all the rest'll jaw against 'im like so many +magpies." As a parting shot he declared on leaving the kitchen, "The +trouble with you girls is that you ain't got no class spunk, and +that's why, in sperrit, you'll never be nothink but menials." + +This lack of _esprit de corps_ was something he couldn't understand, +but what he understood less was the need of the heart to touch +occasionally the high points of experience. Mrs. Courage and Jane, to +say nothing of Nettie, after thirty years of domestic routine had +reached the place where something in the way of drama had become +imperative. The range and the pantry produce inhibitions as surely as +the desk or the drawing-room. On both natures inhibitions had been +packed like feathers on a seabird, till the soul cried out to be +released from some of them. It might mean going out from the home that +had sheltered them for years, and breaking with all their traditions, +but now that the chance was there, neither could refuse it. To a +virtuous woman, starched and stiffened in her virtue, steeped in it, +dyed in it, permeated by it through and through, nothing so stirs the +dramatic, so quickens the imagination, so calls the spirit to the +purple emotional heights, as contact with the sister she knows to be a +hussy. For Jane Cakebread and Mary Ann Courage the opportunity was +unique. + +"Then I'll go. I'll go straight now." + +As Steptoe brought the information that the three women of the +household were coming to announce the resignation of their posts, +Letty sprang to her feet. + +"May I arsk madam to sit down again and let me explyne?" + +Taking this as an order, she sank back into her chair again. He stood +confronting her as before, one hand resting lightly on the table. + +"Nothink so good won't 'ave 'appened in this 'ouse since old Mrs. +Allerton went to work and died." + +Letty's eyes shone with their tiny fires, not in pleasure but in +wonder. + +"When old servants is good, they're good, but even when they're good, +there's times when you can't 'elp wishin' as 'ow the Lord 'ud be +pleased to tyke them to 'Imself." + +He allowed this to sink in before going further. + +"The men's all right, for the most part. Indoor work comes natural to +'em, and they'll swing it without no complynts. But with the women +it's kick, kick, kick, and when they're worn theirselves out with +kickin', they'll begin to kick again. What's plye for a man, for them +ain't nothink but slyvery." + +Letty listened as one receiving revelations from another world. + +"I ain't what they call a woman-'ater. _I_ believe as God made woman +for a purpose. Only I can't bring myself to think as the human race +'as rightly found out yet what that purpose is. God's wyes is always +dark, and when it comes to women, they're darker nor they are +elsewheres. One thing I do know, and we'll be a lot more comfortable +when more of us finds it out--that God never made women for the +'ome." + +In spite of her awe of him, Letty found this doctrine difficult to +accept. + +"If God didn't make 'em for the home, mister, where on earth would you +put 'em?" + +The wintry color came out again on the old man's cheeks. "If madam +would call me Steptoe," he said ceremoniously, "I think she'd find it +easier. I mean," he went on, reverting to the original theme, "that 'E +didn't make 'em to be cooks and 'ousemaids and parlormaids, and all +that. That's men's work. Men'll do it as easy as a bird'll sing. I +never see the woman yet as didn't fret 'erself over it, like a wild +animal'll fret itself in a circus cage. It spiles women to put 'em to +'ousework, like it always spiles people to put 'em to jobs for which +the Lord didn't give 'em no haptitude." + +Letty was puzzled, but followed partially. + +"I've watched 'em and watched 'em, and it's always the syme tyle. +They'll go into service young and joyous like, but it won't be two or +three years before they'll have growed cat-nasty like this 'ere Jyne +Cykebread and Mary Ann Courage. Madam 'ud never believe what sweet +young things they was when I first picked 'em out--Mrs. Courage a +young widow, and Jynie as nice a girl as madam 'ud wish to see, only +with the features what Mrs. Allerton used to call a little +hover-haccentuated. And now--!" He allowed the conditions to speak for +themselves without criticizing further. + +"It's keepin' 'em in a 'ome what's done it. They knows it +theirselves--and yet they don't. Inside they've got the sperrits of +young colts that wants to kick up their 'eels in the pasture. They +don't mean no worse nor that, only when people comes to Jynie's age +and Mrs. Courage's they 'ave to kick up their 'eels in their own wye. +If madam'll remember that, and be pytient with them like------" + +Letty cried in alarm, "But it's got nothin' to do with me!" + +"If madam'll excuse me, it's got everything to do with 'er. She's the +missus of this 'ouse." + +"Oh, no, I ain't. Mr. Allerton just brung me here----" + +Once more there was the delicate emphasis with which he had corrected +other slips. "Mr. Allerton _brought_ madam, and told me to see that +she was put in 'er proper plyce. If madam'll let me steer the thing, +I'll myke it as easy for 'er as easy." + +He reflected as to how to make the situation clear to her. "I've been +readin' about the time when our lyte Queen Victoria come to the throne +as quite a young girl. She didn't know nothin' about politics or +presidin' at councils or nothin'. But she had a prime minister--a kind +of hupper servant, you might sye--'er servant was what 'e always +called 'imself--and whatever 'e told 'er to do, she done. Walked +through it all, you might sye, till she got the 'ang of it, but once +she did get the 'ang of it--well, there wasn't no big-bug in the world +that our most grycious sovereign lydy couldn't put it all hover on." + +Once more he allowed her time to assimilate this parable. + +"Now if madam would only think of 'erself as called in youth to reign +hover this 'ouse----" + +"Oh, but I couldn't!" + +"And yet it's madam's duty, now that she's married to its 'ead----" + +"Yes, but he didn't marry me like that. He married me--all queer like. +This was the way." + +She poured out the story, while Steptoe listened quietly. There being +no elements in it of the kind he called "shydy," he found it romantic. +No one had ever suspected the longings for romance which had filled +his heart and imagination when he was a poor little scullion boy; but +the memory of them, with some of the reality, was still fresh in his +hidden inner self. Now it seemed as if remotely and vicariously +romance might be coming to him after all, through the boy he adored. + +On her tale his only comment was to say: "I've been readin'--I'm a +great reader," he threw in parenthetically, "wonderful exercise for +the mind, and learns you things which you wouldn't be likely to 'ear +tell of--but I've been readin' about a king--I'll show you 'is nyme in +the book--what fell in love with a beggar myde----" + +"Oh, but Mr. Allerton didn't fall in love with me." + +"That remynes to be seen." + +She lifted her hands in awed amazement. "Mister--I mean, +Steptoe--you--you don't think----?" + +The subway dream of love at first sight was as tenacious in her soul +as the craving for romance in his. + +He nodded. "I've known strynger things to 'appen." + +"But--but--he couldn't--" it was beyond her power of expression, +though Steptoe knew what she meant--"not _him_!" + +He answered judicially. "'E may come to it. It'll be a tough job to +bring 'im--but if madam'll be guided by me------" + +Letty collapsed. Her spirit grew faint as the spirit of Christian when +he descried far off the walls of the Celestial City, with the Dark +River rolling between him and it. Letty knew the Dark River must be +there, but if beyond it there lay the slightest chance of the +Celestial City.... + +She came back to herself, as it were, on hearing Steptoe say that the +procession from the kitchen would presently begin to form itself. + +"Now if madam'll be guided by me she'll meet this situytion fyce to +fyce." + +"Oh, but I'd never know what to say." + +"Madam won't need to say nothink. She won't 'ave to speak. 'Ere +they'll troop in--" a gesture described Mrs. Courage leading the +advance through the doorway--"and 'ere they'll stand. Madam'll sit +just where she's sittin'--a little further back from the +tyble--lookin' over the mornin' pyper like--" he placed the paper in +her hand--"and as heach gives notice, madam'll just bow 'er 'ead. +See?" + +Madam saw, but not exactly. + +"Now if she'll just move 'er chair----" + +The chair was moved in such a way as to make it seem that the +occupant, having finished her breakfast, was giving herself a little +more space. + +"And if madam would remove 'er 'at and jacket, she'd--she'd seem more +like the lydy of the 'ouse at 'ome." + +Letty took off these articles of apparel, which Steptoe whisked out of +sight. + +"Now I'll be Mrs. Courage comin' to sye, 'Madam, I wish to give +notice.' Madam'll lower the pyper just enough to show 'er inclinin' of +'er 'ead, assentin' to Mrs. Courage leavin' 'er. Mrs. Courage will be +all for 'avin' words--she's a great 'and for words, Mrs. Courage +is--but if madam won't sye nothin' at all, the wind'll be out o' Mrs. +Courage's syles like. Now, will madam be so good----?" + +Having passed out into the hall, he entered with Mrs. Courage's +majestic gait, pausing some three feet from the table to say: + +"Madam, things bein' as they are, and me not wishin' to stye no longer +in the 'ouse where I've served so many years, I beg to give notice +that I'm a givin' of notice and mean to quit right off." + +Letty lowered the paper from before her eyes, jerking her head +briskly. + +"Ye-es," Steptoe commended doubtfully, "a lettle too--well, too +habrupt, as you might sye. Most lydies--real 'igh lydies, like the +lyte Mrs. Allerton--inclines their 'ead slow and gryceful like. First, +they throws it back a bit, so as to get a purchase on it, and then +they brings it forward calm like, lowerin' it stytely--Perhaps if +madam'ud be me for a bit--that 'ud be Mrs. Courage--and let me sit +there and be 'er, I could show 'er----" + +The places were reversed. It was Letty who came in as Mrs. Courage, +while Steptoe, seated in the chair, lowered the paper to the degree +which he thought dignified. Letty mumbled something like the words the +hypothetical Mrs. Courage was presumed to use, while Steptoe slowly +threw back his head for the purchase, bringing it forward in +condescending grace. Language could not have given Mrs. Courage so +effective a retort courteous. + +Letty was enchanted. "Oh, Steptoe, let me have another try. I believe +I could swing the cat." + +Again the places were reversed. Steptoe having repeated the rôle of +Mrs. Courage, Letty imitated him as best she could in getting the +purchase for her bow and catching his air of high-bred condescension. + +"Better," he approved, "if madam wouldn't lower 'er 'ead _quite_ so +far back'ard. You see, madam, a lydy don't _know_ she's throwin' back +'er 'ead so as to get a grip on it. She does it unconscious like, +because bein' of a 'aughty sperrit she 'olds it 'igh natural. If +madam'll only stiffen 'er neck like, as if sperrit 'ad made 'er about +two inches taller than she is----" + +Having seized this idea, Letty tried again, with such success that +Mrs. Courage was disposed of. Jane Cakebread followed next, with +Nettie last of all. Unaware of his possession of histrionic ability, +Steptoe gave to each character its outstanding traits, fluttering like +Jane, and giggling like Nettie, not in zeal for a newly discovered +interpretative art, but in order that Letty might be nowhere caught at +a disadvantage. He was delighted with her quickness in imitation. + +"Couldn't 'ave done that better myself," he declared after Nettie had +been dismissed for the third or fourth time. "When it comes to the +inclinin' of the 'ead I should sye as madam was about letter-perfect, +as they sye on the styge. If Mr. Rash was to see it, 'e'd swear as 'is +ma 'ad come back again." + +A muffled sound proceeded from the back part of the hallway, with +some whispering and once or twice Nettie's stifled cackle of a laugh. + +"'Ere they are," he warned her. "Madam must be firm and control +'erself. There's nothink for 'er to be afryde of. Just let 'er think +of the lyte Queen Victoria, called to the throne when younger even +than madam is----" + +A shuffling developed into one lone step, heavy, stately, and +funereal. Doing her best to emulate the historic example held up to +her, Letty lengthened her neck and stiffened it. A haughty spirit +seemed to rise in her by the mere process of the elongation. She was +so nervous that the paper shook in her hand, but she knew that if the +Celestial City was to be won, she could shrink from no tests which +might lead her on to victory. + +Steptoe had relapsed into the major-domo's office, announcing from the +doorway, "Mrs. Courage to see madam, if madam will be pleased to +receive 'er." + +Madam indicated that she was so pleased, scrambling after the standard +of the maiden sovereign of Windsor Castle giving audience to princes +and ambassadors. + + + + +Chapter VIII + + +"I'm 'ere." + +Letty couldn't know, of course, that this announcement, made in a +menacing female bass, was due to the fact that three swaying +bodies had been endeavoring so to get round the deployed paper +wings as to see what was hidden there, and had found their efforts +vain. All she could recognize was the summons to the bar of social +judgment. To the bar of social judgment she would have gone +obediently, had it not been for that rebelliousness against being +"looked down upon" which had lately mastered her. As it was, she +lengthened her neck by another half inch, receiving from the +exercise a new degree of self-strengthening. + +"Mrs. Courage is 'ere, madam," Steptoe seconded, "and begs to sye as +she's givin' notice to quit madam's service----" + +The explosion came as if Mrs. Courage was strangling. + +"When I wants words took out of my mouth by 'Enery Steptoe or anybody +else I'll sye so. If them as I've come into this room to speak to +don't feel theirselves aible to fyce me----" + +"Madam'll excuse an old servant who's outlived 'er time," Steptoe +intervened, "and not tyke no notice. They always abuses the kindness +that's been showed 'em, and tykes liberties which----" + +But not for nothing had Mrs. Courage been born to the grand manner. + +"When 'Enery Steptoe talks of old servants out-livin' their time and +tykin' liberties 'e speaks of what 'e knows all about from personal +experience. 'E was an old man when I was a little thing not _so_ +high." + +The appeal was to the curiosity of the girl behind the screen. To +judge of how high Mrs. Courage had not been at a time when Steptoe was +already an old man she might be enticed from her fortifications. But +the pause only offered Steptoe a new opportunity. + +"And so, if madam can dispense with 'er services, which I understand +madam can, Mrs. Courage will be a-leavin' of us this morning, with all +our good wishes, I'm sure. Good-dye to you, Mary Ann, and God bless +you after all the years you've been with us. Madam's givin' you your +dismissal." + +Obedient to her cue Letty lowered her guard just enough to incline her +head with the grace Steptoe had already pronounced "letter perfect." +The shock to Mrs. Courage can best be narrated in her own terms to +Mrs. Walter Wildgoose later in the day. + +"Airs! No one couldn't imagine it, Bessie, what 'adn't seen it for +theirselves--what them baggages'll do--smokin'--and wearin' pearl +necklaces--and 'avin' their own limousines--all that I've seen and 'ad +got used to--but not the President's wife--not Mary Queen of +England--could 'a myde you feel as if you was dirt hunder their feet +like what this one--and 'er with one of them marked down sixty-nine +cent blouses that 'adn't seen the wash since--and as for looks--why, +she didn't 'ave a look to bless 'erself--and a-'oldin' of 'erself like +what a empress might--and bowin' 'er 'ead, and goin' back to 'er +pyper, as if I'd disturbed 'er at 'er readin'--and the dead and +spitten image of 'Enery Steptoe 'imself she is--and you know 'ow many +times we've all wondered as to why 'e didn't marry--and 'im with +syvings put by--Jynie thinks as 'e's worth as much as--and you know +what a 'and Jynie is for ferritin' out what's none of 'er +business--why, if Jynie Cykebread could 'a myde 'erself Jynie +Steptoe--but that's somethink wild 'orses wouldn't myke poor Jynie +see--that no man wouldn't look at 'er the second time if it wasn't for +to laugh--pitiful, I call it, at 'er aige--and me always givin' the +old rip to know as it was no use 'is 'angin' round where I was--as if +I'd marry agyne, and me a widda, as you might sye, from my crydle--and +if I did, it wouldn't 'a been a wicked old varlet what I always +suspected 'e was leadin' a double life--and now to see them two fyces +together--why, I says, 'ere's the explanytion as plyne as plyne can +make it...." + +All of which might have been true in rhetoric, but not in fact. For +what had really given Mrs. Courage the _coup de grace_ we must go back +to the scene of the morning. + +Ignoring both Letty's inclination of the head and Steptoe's +benediction she had shown herself hurt where she was tenderest. + +"Now that there's no one to ryse their voice agynst the disgryce +brought on this family but me----" + +"Speak right up, Jynie. Don't be afryde. Madam won't eat you. She +knows that you've come to give notice----" + +Mrs. Courage struggled on. "No one ain't goin' to bow me out of the +'ouse I've been cook-'ousekeeper in these twenty-seven year----" + +"Sorry as madam'll be to lose you, Jynie, she won't stand in the wye +of your gettin' a better plyce----" + +Mrs. Courage's roar being that of the wounded lioness she was, the +paper shook till it rattled in Letty's hand. + +"I _will_ be listened to. I've a right to be 'eard. My 'eart's been as +much in this 'ouse and family as 'Enery Steptoe's 'eart; and to see +shyme and ruin come upon it----" + +Steptoe's interruption was in a tone of pleased surprise. + +"Why, you still 'ere, Mary Ann? We thought you'd tyken leave of us. +Madam didn't know you was speakin'. She won't detyne you, madam won't. +You and Jynie and Nettie'll all find cheques for your wyges pyde up to +a month a 'ead, as I know Mr. Rashleigh'd want me to do...." + +Shame and ruin! Letty couldn't follow the further unfoldings of +Steptoe's diplomacy because of these two words. They summed up what +she brought--what she had been married to bring--to a house of which +even she could see the traditions were of honor. Vaguely aware of +voices which she attributed to Jane and Nettie, her spirit was in +revolt against the rôle for which her rashness of yesterday had let +her in, and which Steptoe was forcing upon her. + +Jane was still whimpering and sniffling: + +"I'm sure I never dreamed that things would 'appen like what 'as +'appened--and us all one family, as you might sye--'opin' the best of +everyone----" + +"Jynie, stop," Mrs. Courage's voice had become low and firm, with +emotion in its tone, making Letty catch her breath. "My 'eart's +breakin', and I ain't a-goin' to let it break without mykin' them +that's broken it know what they've done to me." + +"Now, Mary Ann," Steptoe tried to say, peaceably, "madam's grytely +pressed for time----" + +"'Enery Steptoe, do you suppose that you're the only one in the world +as 'as loved that boy? Ain't 'e my boy just as much as ever 'e was +yours?" + +"'E's boy to them as stands by 'im, Mrs. Courage--and stands by them +that belongs to 'im. The first thing you do is to quit----" + +"I'm not quittin'; I'm druv out. I'm druv out at a hour's notice from +the 'ome I've slyved for all my best years, leavin' dishonor and +wickedness in my plyce----" + +Letty could endure no more. Dashing to the floor the paper behind +which she crouched she sprang to her feet. + +"Is that me?" she demanded. + +The surprise of the attack caught Mrs. Courage off her guard. She +could only open her mouth, and close it again, soundlessly and +helplessly. Jane stared, her curiosity gratified at last. Nettie +turned to whisper to Jane, "There; what did I tell you? The commonest +thing!" Steptoe nodded his head quietly. In this little creature with +her sudden flame, eyes all fire and cheeks of the wine-colored damask +rose, he seemed to find a corroboration of his power of divining +character. + +It seemed long before Mrs. Courage had found the strength to live up +to her convictions, by faintly murmuring: "Who else?" + +"Then tell me what you accuse me of?" + +Mrs. Courage saw her advantage. "We ain't 'ere to accuse nobody of +nothink. If it's 'intin' that I'd tyke awye anyone's character it's a +thing I've 'ardly ever done, and no one can sye it _of_ me. All we +want is to give our notice----" + +"Then why don't you do it--and go?" + +Once more Steptoe intervened, diplomatically. "That's what Mrs. +Courage is a-doin' of, madam. She's finished, ain't you Mary Ann? +Jynie and Nettie is finished too----" + +But it was Letty now who refused this mediation. + +"No, they ain't finished. Let 'em go on." + +But no one did go on. Mrs. Courage was now dumb. She was dumb and +frightened, falling back on her two supporters. All three together +they huddled between the portières. If Steptoe could have calmed his +protégée he would have done it; but she was beyond his control. + +"Am I the ruin and shame to this house that you was talkin' about just +now? If I am, why don't you speak out and put it to me plain?" + +There was no response. The spectators looked on as if they were at the +theater. + +"What have you all got against me anyhow?" Letty insisted, +passionately. "What did I ever do to you? What's women's hearts made +of, that they can't let a poor girl be?" + +Mrs. Courage had so far recovered as to be able to turn from one to +another, to say in pantomime that she had been misunderstood. Jane +began to cry; Nettie to laugh. + +"Even if I was the bad girl you're tryin' to make me out I should +think other women might show me a little pity. But I'm not a bad +girl--not yet. I may be. I dunno but what I will. When I see the +hateful thing bein' good makes of women it drives me to do the other +thing." + +This was the speech they needed to justify themselves. To be good made +women hateful! Their dumb-crambo to each other showed that anyone who +said so wild a thing stood already self-condemned. + +But Letty flung up her head with a mettle which Steptoe hadn't seen +since the days of the late Mrs. Allerton. + +"I'm not in this house to drive no one else out of it. Them that have +lived here for years has a right to it which I ain't got. You can go, +and let me stay; or you can stay, and let me go. I'm the wife of the +owner of this house, who married me straight and legal; but I don't +care anything about that. You don't have to tell me I ain't fit to be +his wife, because I know it as well as you do. All I'm sayin' is that +you've got the choice to stay or go; and whichever you do, I'll do +different." + +Never in her life had she spoken so many words at one time. The effort +drained her. With a torrent of dry sobs that racked her body she +dropped back into her chair. + +The hush was that of people who find the tables turned on themselves +in a way they consider unwarranted. Of the general surprise Steptoe +was quick to take advantage. + +"There you are, girls. Madam couldn't speak no fairer, now could +she?" + +To this there was neither assent or dissent; but it was plain that no +one was ready to pick up the glove so daringly thrown down. + +"Now what I would suggest," Steptoe went on, craftily, "is that we all +go back to the kitchen and talk it over quiet like. What we decide to +do we can tell madam lyter." + +For consent or refusal Jane and Nettie looked to Mary Ann, whose +attitude was that of rejecting parley. She might, indeed, have +rejected it, had not Letty, bowing her head on the arms she rested on +the table, begun to cry bitterly. + +It was then that you saw Mrs. Courage at her best. The gesture with +which she swept her subordinates back into the hall was that of the +supremacy of will. + +"It shan't be said as I crush," she declared, nobly, directing +Steptoe's attention to the weeping girl. "Where there's penitence I +pity. God grant as them tears may gush out of an aichin' 'eart." + + + + +Chapter IX + + +By the time Letty was drying her eyes, her heart somewhat eased, +Steptoe had come back. He came back with a smile. Something had +evidently pleased him. + +"So that's all over. Madam won't be bothered with other people's +cat-nasty old servants after to-dye." + +She felt a new access of alarm. "But they're not goin' away on account +o' me? Don't let 'em do it. Lemme go instead. Oh, mister, I can't stay +here, where everything's so different from what I'm used to." + +He still smiled, his gentle old man's smile which somehow gave her +confidence. + +"Madam won't sye that after a dye or two. It's new to 'er yet, of +course; but if she'll always remember that I'm 'ere, to myke +everythink as easy as easy----" + +"But what are you goin' to do, with no cook, and no chambermaid----?" + +Standing with the corner of the table between him and her, he was +saying to himself, "If Mr. Rash could only see 'er lookin' up like +this--with 'er eyes all starry--and her cheeks with them dark-red +roses--red roses like you'd rubbed with a little black...." But he +suspended the romantic longing to say, aloud: + +"If madam will permit me I'll tyke my measures as I've wanted to tyke +'em this long spell back." + +Madam was not to worry as to the three women who were leaving the +house, inasmuch as they had long been intending to leave it. Both Mrs. +Courage and Jane, having graduated to the stage of "accommodating," +were planning to earn more money by easier work. Nettie, since coming +to America, had learned that housework was menial, and was going to be +a milliner. + +Madam's remorse being thus allayed he told what he hoped to do for +madam's comfort. There would be no more women in the house, not till +madam herself brought them back. An English chef who had lost an eye +in the war, and an English waiter, ready to do chamberwork, who had +left a foot on some battlefield, were prepared under Steptoe's +direction to man the house. No woman whose household cares had not +been eased by men, in the European fashion, knew what it was to live. +A woman waited on by women only was kept in a state of nerves. Nerves +were infectious. When one woman in a household got them the rest were +sooner or later their prey. Unless strongly preventative measures were +adopted they spread at times to the men. America was a dreadful +country for nerves and it mostly came of women working with women; +whereas, according to Steptoe's psychology, men should work with women +and women with men. There were thousands of women who were bitter in +heart at cooking and making beds who would be happy as linnets in +offices and shops; and thousands of men who were dying of boredom in +offices and shops who would be in their element cooking and making +beds. + +"One of the things the American people 'as got back'ards, if madam'll +allow me to sye so, is that 'ouse'old work is not fit for a white man. +When you come to that the American people ain't got a sense of the +dignity of their 'omes. They can't see their 'omes as run by anything +but slyves. All that's outside the dinin' room and the drorin' room +and the masters' bedrooms the American sees as if it was a low-down +thing, even when it's hunder 'is own roof. Colored men, yellow men, +may cook 'is meals and myke 'is bed; but a white man'd demean 'imself. +A poor old white man like me when 'e's no longer fit for 'ard outdoor +work ain't allowed to do nothink; when all the time there's women +workin' their fingers to the bone that 'e could be a great 'elp to, +and who 'e'd like to go to their 'elp." + +This was one reason, he argued, why the question of domestic aid in +America was all at sixes and sevens. It was not considered humanly. It +was more than a question of supply and demand; it was one of national +prejudice. A rich man could have a French chef and an English butler, +and as many strapping indoor men--some of them much better fitted for +manual labor--as he liked, and find it a social glory; while a family +of moderate means were obliged to pay high wages to crude incompetent +women from the darkest backwaters of European life, just because they +were women. + +"And the women's mostly to blyme," he reasoned. "They suffers--nobody +knows what they suffers better nor me--just because they ain't got the +spunk to do anything _but_ suffer. They've got it all in their own +'ands, and they never learn. Men is slow to learn; but women don't +'ardly ever learn at all." + +Letty was thinking of herself, as she glanced up at this fount of +wisdom with the question: + +"Don't none of 'em?" + +Having apparently weighed this already he had his answer. "None that's +been drilled a little bit before 'and. Once let woman feel as so and +so is the custom, and for 'er that custom, whether good or bad, is +there to stye. They sye that chyngin' 'er mind is a woman's privilege; +but the woman that chynged 'er mind about a custom is one I never met +yet." + +She took him as seriously as he took himself. + +"Don't you like women, mister--I mean, Steptoe?" + +He pondered before replying. "I don't know as I could sye. I've never +'ad a chance to see much of women except in 'ousework, where they're +out of their element and tyken at a disadvantage. I don't like none +I've ever run into there, because none of 'em never was no sport." + +The inquiry in her golden eyes led him a little further. + +"No one ain't a sport what sighs and groans over their job, and don't +do it cheerful like. No one ain't a sport what undertykes a job and +ain't proud of it. If a woman _will_ go into 'ousework let 'er do it +honorable. If she chooses to be a servant let 'er _be_ a servant, and +not be ashymed to sye she _is_ one. So if madam arsks me if I like 'em +I 'ave to confess I don't, because as far as I see women I mostly 'ear +'em complyne." + +Her admiration was quite sincere as she said: "I shouldn't think +they'd complain if they had you to put 'em wise." + +He corrected gently. "If they 'ad me to _tell_ 'em." + +"If they 'ad you to _tell_ 'em," she imitated, meekly. + +"Madam mustn't pick up the bad 'abit of droppin' 'er haitches," he +warned, parentally. "I'll learn 'er a lot, but that's one thing I +mustn't learn 'er. I don't do it often--Oh, once in a wye, mybe--but +that's something madam speaks right already--just like all +Americans." + +Delighted that there was one thing about her that was right already +she reminded him of what he had said, that women never learned. + +"I said women as 'ad been drilled a bit. But madam's different. Madam +comes into this 'ouse newborn, as you might sye; and that'll myke it +easier for 'er and me." + +"You mean that I'll not be a kicker." + +Once more he smiled his gentle reproof. "Oh, madam wouldn't be a +kicker any'ow. Jynie or Nettie or Mary Ann Courage or even me--we +might be kickers; but if madam was to hobject to anything she'd +be--_displeased_." + +She knitted her brows. The distinction was difficult. He saw he had +better explain more fully. + +"It's only the common crowd what kicks. It's only the common crowd +what uses the expression. A man might use it--I mean a real 'igh +gentleman like Mr. Rashleigh--and get awye with it--now and then--if +'e didn't myke a 'abit of it; but when a woman does it she +rubberstamps 'erself. Now, does madam see? A lydy couldn't be a +lydy--and kick. The lyte Mrs. Allerton would never demean 'erself to +kick; she'd only show displeasure." + +With a thumb and two fingers Letty marked off on the table the three +points as to which she had received information that morning. She must +say brought, and not brung; she must say tell, and not put wise; she +must not kick, but show displeasure. Neither must she drop her +aitches, though to do so would have been an effort. The warning only +raised a suspicion that in the matter of speech there might be a +higher standard than Steptoe's. If ever she heard Rashleigh Allerton +speak again she resolved to listen to him attentively. + +She came back from her reverie on hearing Steptoe say: + +"With madam it's a cyse of beginning from the ground up, more or less +as you would with a byby; so I 'ope madam'll forgive me if I drop a +'int as to what we must do before goin' any farther." + +Once more he read her question in the starry little flames in her +eyes. + +"It's--clothes." + +The damask red which had ebbed surged slowly back again. It surged +back under the transparent white skin, as red wine fills a glass. Her +lips parted to stammer the confession that she had no clothes except +those she wore; but she couldn't utter a syllable. + +"I understand madam's position, which is why I mention it. You might +sye as clothes is the ABC of social life, and if we're to work from +the ground up we must begin there." + +She forced it out at last, but the statement seemed to tear her. + +"I can't get clothes. I ain't got no money." + +"Oh, money's no hobject," he smiled. "Mr. Rash 'as plenty of that, and +I know what 'e'd like me to do. There never was 'is hequal for the +'open 'and. If madam'll leave it to me...." + + * * * * * + +Allerton's office was much what you would have expected it to be, +bearing to other offices the same relation as he to other business +men. He had it because not to have it wouldn't have been respectable. +A young American who didn't go to an office every day would hardly +have been a young American. An office, then, was a concession to +public sentiment, as well as some faint justification of himself. + +It was in the latter sense that he chiefly took it, making it a +subject of frequent reference. In his conversation such expressions as +"my office," or "due at my office," were introduced more often than +there was occasion for. The implication that he had work to do gave +him status, enabling him to sit down among his cronies and +good-naturedly take their fun. + +He took a good deal of fun, never having succeeded in making himself +the standardized type who escapes the shafts of ridicule. It was +kindly fun, which, while viewing him as a white swan in a flock of +black ones, recognized him as a swan, and this was as much as he could +expect. To pass in the crowd was all he asked for, even when he only +passed on bluff. If he couldn't wholly hide the bluff he could keep it +from being flagrantly obtrusive; and toward that end an office was a +help. + +It was an office situated just where you would have expected to find +it--far enough downtown to be downtown, and yet not so far downtown as +to make it a trouble to get there. Being on the eastern side of +Washington Square, it had a picturesque outlook, and the merit of +access from East Sixty-seventh Street through the long straight artery +of Fifth Avenue. + +It was furnished, too, just as you might have known he would furnish +it, in the rich and sober Style Empire, and yet not so exclusively in +the Style Empire as to make the plain American business man fear he +had dropped into Napoleon's library at Malmaison. That is what +Rashleigh would have liked, but other men could do what in him would +be thought finicky. To take the "cuss" off his refinement, as he put +it to Barbara, he scattered modern American office bits among his +luscious brown surfaces, adorned with wreaths and lictors' sheaves in +gold, though to himself the wrong note was offensive. + +But wrong notes and right notes were the same to him as, on this +particular morning, he dragged himself there because it was the hour. +His office staff in the person of old Mr. Radbury was already on the +spot, and had sorted the letters for the day. These were easily dealt +with. Reinvestment, or new opportunities for investment, were their +principal themes, and the only positive duty to attend to was in the +endorsement of dividend checks for deposit. A few directions being +given to Mr. Radbury as to such letters as were to be answered, +Allerton had nothing to do but stroll to the window and look out. + +It was what he did perhaps fifty times in the course of the two or +three hours daily, or approximately daily, which he spent there. He +did so now. He did so because it put off for a few minutes longer the +fierce, exasperating, acrid pleasure of doing worse. To do worse had +been his avowed object in coming to the office that morning, and not +the answering of letters or the raking in of checks. + +Looking down from his window on the tenth floor he asked himself the +fruitless question which millions of other men have asked when folly +has got them into trouble. Among these thousands who, viewed from that +height, had a curious resemblance to ants, was there such a fool as he +was? From the Square they streamed into Fifth Avenue; from Fifth +Avenue they streamed into the Square. In the Square and round the +Square they squirmed and wriggled and dawdled their seemingly aimless +ways. Great green lumbering omnibuses disgorged one pack of them +merely to suck up another. Motors whirled them toward uptown, toward +downtown, or east, or west, by twos and threes, or as individuals. +Like ants their general effect was black, with here and there a moving +spot of color, or of intermingling colors, as of flowers in the wind, +or tropic birds. + +He watched a figure detach itself from the mass swirling round a +debouching omnibus. It was a little black figure, just clearly enough +defined to show that it was a man. Because it was a man it had been a +fool. Because it had been a fool it had dark chambers in its life +which it would never willingly open. But it had doubtless got +something for its folly. It might have lost more than it had gained, +but it could probably reckon up and say, "At least I had my fun." + +And he had had none. He had squandered his whole life on a single act +of insanity which even in the action had produced nothing but disgust. +He hadn't merely swindled himself; he had committed a kind of suicide +which made death silly and grotesque. The one thing that could save +him a scrap of dignity--and such a sorry scrap!--would be going to the +devil by the shortest way. + +He had come to the office to begin. He would begin by the means that +seemed obvious. Now that going to the devil was a task he saw, as he +had not seen hitherto, how curiously few were the approaches that +would take him there. Song being only an accompaniment, he was limited +to the remaining two of the famous and familiar trio. + +Very well! Limited as he was he would make the most of them. Knowing +something of their merits he knew there was a bestial entertainment to +be had from both. It was a kind of entertainment which his cursed +fastidiousness had always loathed; but now his reckoning would be +different. If he got _anything_ he should not feel so wastefully +thrown away. He would be selling himself first and making his bargain +afterwards; but some meager balance would stand to his credit, if +credit it could be called. When the devil had been reached the world +he knew would pardon him because it was the devil, and not--what it +was in truth--an idiotic state of nerves. + +At the minute when Letty was leaping to her feet to take her stand he +swung away from the window. First going to Mr. Radbury's door he +closed it softly. Luckily the old man, an inheritance from his, +Allerton's, father, was deaf and incurious. Like most clerks who had +clerked their way up to seventy he was buried in clerking's little +round. He wouldn't come in till the letters were finished, certainly +not for an hour, and by that time Allerton would be.... He almost +smiled at the old man's probable consternation on finding him so +before the middle of the day. Any time would be bad enough; but in the +high forenoon.... + +He went to a cabinet which was said to have found its way via +Bordentown from the furnishings of Queen Caroline Murat. Having opened +it he took out a bottle and a glass. On the label of the bottle was a +kilted Highlander playing on the pipes. A siphon of soda was also in +the cabinet, but he left it there. What he had to do would be done +more quickly without its mitigation. + + * * * * * + +While Allerton was making these preparations Judson Flack, in pajamas +and slippers, was standing in his toy kitchen, looking helplessly at a +small gas stove. It was the hour in the middle of the morning at which +he was accustomed to be waked with the information that his coffee and +eggs were ready. The forenoon being what he called his slack time he +found the earlier part of it most profitably used for sleep. + +"Curse the girl!" + +The adjuration was called forth by the fact that he didn't know where +anything was, or how anything should be done. From the simple +expedient of going for his breakfast to one of the cheap restaurants +with which he was familiar he was cut off by the fact of an unlucky +previous night. He simply didn't have the bones. This was not to say +that he was penniless, but that in view of more public expenses later +in the day it would be well for him to economize where economy was so +obvious. He never had an appetite in the morning anyway. With +irregular eating and drinking all through the evening and far toward +daylight, he found a cup of coffee and an egg.... + +It was easy, he knew, to make the one and boil the other, but he was +out of practice. He couldn't remember doing anything of the sort since +the days before he married Letty's mother. Even then he had never +tried this new-fangled thing, the gas stove, so that besides being out +of practice he was at a loss. + +"Curse the girl!" + +The resources of the kitchen being few exploration didn't take him +long. He found bread, butter, milk that had turned sour, the usual +condiments, some coffee in a canister, and a single egg. If he could +only light the confounded gas stove.... + +A small white handle offering itself for experiment, he turned it +timidly, applying a match to a geometrical pattern of holes. He jumped +back as from an exploding cannon. + +"Curse the girl!" + +Having found the way, however, the next attempt was more successful. +Soon he had two geometrical patterns of holes burning in steady blue +buttons of flame. On the one he placed the coffee-pot into which he +had turned a pint of water and a cupful of coffee; on the other a +saucepan half full of water containing his egg. This being done he +retired to the bathroom for the elements of a toilet. + +"Curse the girl!" + +Washing, shaving, turning up his mustache with the little curling +tongs, he observed with self-pity his increasing haggardness. He +observed it also with dismay. Looks were as important to him as to an +actress. His rôle being youth, high spirits, and the devil-may-care, +the least trace of the wearing out would do for him. He had noticed +some time ago that he was beginning to show fatal signs, which had the +more emphatically turned his thoughts to the provision Letty might +prove for his old age. + +"Curse the girl!" + +It was cursing the girl which reminded him that he had allowed more +than the necessary time for his breakfast to be ready for consumption. +Hurrying back to the kitchen he found the egg gracefully dancing as +the water boiled. He fished it out with a spoon and took it in his +hand, but he didn't keep it there. Dashing it to the table, whence it +crashed upon the floor, he positively screamed. + +"Curse the girl!" + +He cursed her now licking and sucking the tips of his fingers and +examining them to see if they were scalded. No such calamity having +occurred he took up the coffee pot, leaving the mashed egg where it +lay. Ladling a spoonful of sugar into a cup, and adding the usual +milk, he poured in the coffee, which became a muddy dark brown +mixture, with what appeared to be a porridge of seeds floating on the +top. One sip, which induced a diabolical grimace, and he threw the +beverage at the opposite wall as if it was a man he meant to insult. + +"Curse the girl!" + +The appeal to the darker powers being accompanied now by a series of +up-to-date terms of objurgation, the mere act of utterance, mental or +articulate, churned him to a frenzy. Seizing the coffee pot which he +had replaced on the gas stove he hurled it too against the wall. It +struck, splathered the hideous liquor over a hideous calsomining which +had once been blue, and fell to the floor like a living thing knocked +insensible. + +The resemblance maddened him still more. It might have been Letty, +struck down after having provoked him beyond patience. He rushed at +it. He hurled it again. He hurled it again. He hurled it again. The +exercise gave relief not only to his lawful resentment against Letty, +but to those angers over his luck of last night which as "a good +loser" he hadn't been at liberty to show. No one knew the repressions +he was obliged to put upon himself; but now his inhibitions could come +off in this solitary passion of destruction. + +When the coffee pot was a mere shapeless mass he picked up the empty +cup. It was a thick stone-china cup, with a bar meant to protect his +mustache across the top, a birthday present from Letty's mother. The +association of memories acted as a further stimulus. Smash! After the +cup went the stone-china sugar bowl. Smash! After the sugar bowl the +plate with the yellow chunk of butter. Smash! After the butter plate +the milk jar, a clumsy, lumpy thing, which merely gurgled out a splash +of milk and fell without breaking. + +"Curse the girl! Curse the girl! Curse the girl! I'll learn her to go +away and leave me! I'll find her and drag her back if she's in...." + + + + +Chapter X + + +While Letty was beginning a new experience Judson Flack was doing his +best to carry out his threat. That is to say, he was making the round +of the studios in which his step-daughter had occasionally found work, +discreetly asking if she had been there that day. It was all he could +think of doing. To the best of his knowledge she had no friends with +whom she could have taken refuge, though the suspicion crossed his +mind that she might have drowned herself to spite him. + +As a matter of fact Letty was asking the question if she wasn't making +a mistake in not doing so, either literally or morally. Never before +in her life had she been up against this problem of insufficiency. +Among the hard things she had known she had not known this; and now +that she was involved in it, it seemed to her harder than everything +else put together. + +In her humble round, bitter as it was, she had always been considered +competent. It was the sense of her competence that gave her the +self-respect enabling her to bear up. According to her standards she +could keep house cleverly, and could make a dollar go as far as other +girls made two. When she got her first chance in a studio, through an +acquaintance of Judson Flack's, she didn't shrink from it, and had +more than once been chosen by a director to be that member of a crowd +who moves in the front and expresses the crowd psychologically. Had +she only had the clothes.... + +And now she was to have them. As far as that went she was not merely +glad; she was one sheer quiver of excitement. It was not the end she +shrank from; it was the means. If she could only have had fifty +dollars to go "poking round" where she knew that bargains could be +found, she might have enjoyed the prospect; but Steptoe could only +"take measures" on the grand scale to which he was accustomed. + +The grand scale frightened her, chiefly because she was dressed as she +was dressed. It was her first thought and her last one. When Steptoe +told her the hour at which he had asked Eugene to bring round the car +the mere vision of herself stepping into it made her want to sink into +the ground. Eugene didn't live in the house--she had discovered +that--and so would bring the stare of another pair of eyes under whose +scrutiny she would have to pass. Those of the three women having +already scorched her to the bone, she would have to be scorched +again. + +She tried to say this to Steptoe, as they stood in the drawing-room +window waiting for the car; but she didn't know how to make him +understand it. When she tried to put it into words, the right words +wouldn't come. Steptoe had taken as general what she was trying to +explain to him in particular. + +"It'll be very important to madam to fyce what's 'ard, and to do it +bryve like. It'll be the mykin' of 'er if she can. 'Umble 'ill is +pretty stiff to climb; but them as gets to the top of it is tough." + +She thought this over silently. He meant that if she set herself to +take humiliations as they came, dragging herself up over them, she +would be the stronger for it in the end. + +"It'd 'ave been better for Mr. Rashleigh," he mused, "if 'e'd 'ad 'ad +somethink of the kind to tackle in 'is life; it'd 'ave myde 'im more +of a man. But because 'e adn't--Did madam ever notice," he broke off +to ask, "'ow them as 'as everythink myde easy for 'em begins right off +to myke things 'ard for theirselves. It's a kind of law like. It's +just as if nyture didn't mean to let no one escype. When a man's got +no troubles you can think of, 'e'll go to work to create 'em." + +"Didn't _he_"--she had never yet pronounced the name of the man who +had married her--"didn't _he_ ever have any troubles?" + +"'E was fretted terrible--crossed like--rubbed up the wrong wye, as +you might sye,--but a real trouble like what you and me 'ave 'ad +plenty of--never! It's my opinion that trouble is to char-_ac_-ter +what a peg'll be to a creepin' vine--something to which the vine'll +'ook on and pull itself up by. Where there's nothink to ketch on to +the vine'll grow; but it'll grow in a 'eap of flop." There was a +tremor in his tone as he summed up. "That's somethink like my poor +boy." + +Letty found this interesting. That in these exalted circles there +could be a need of refining chastisement came to her as a surprise. + +"The wife as I've always 'oped for 'im," Steptoe went on, "is one +that'd know what trouble was, and 'ow to fyce it. 'E'd myke a grand +'usband to a woman who was--strong. But she'd 'ave to be the wall +what the creepin' vine could cover all over and--and beautify." + +"That wouldn't be me." + +"If I was madam I wouldn't be so sure of that. It don't do to +undervalyer your own powers. If I'd 'a done that I wouldn't 'a been +where I am to-dye. Many's the time, when I was no more than a poor +little foundlin' boy in a 'ome I've said to myself, I'm fit for +somethink big. Somethink big I always meant to be. When it didn't seem +possible for me to aim so 'igh I'd myde up my mind to be a valet and a +butler. It comes--your hambition does. What you've first got to do is +to form it; and then you've got to stick to it through thick and +thin." + +To say what she said next Letty had to break down barrier beyond +barrier of inhibition and timidity. "And if I was to--to form the--the +ambition--to be--to be the kind of wall you was talkin' about just +now----" + +"That wouldn't be hambition; it'd be--consecrytion." + +He allowed her time to get the meaning of this before going on. + +"But madam mustn't expect not to find it 'ard. Consecrytion is always +'ard, by what I can myke out. When Mr. Rash was a little 'un 'e used +to get Miss Pye, 'is governess, to read to 'im a fairy tyle about a +little mermaid what fell in love with a prince on land. Bein' in love +with 'im she wanted to be with 'im, natural like; but there she was in +one element, as you might sye, and 'im in another." + +"That'd be like me." + +"Which is why I'm tellin' madam of the story. Well, off the little +mermaid goes to the sea-witch to find out 'ow she could get rid of 'er +fish's tyle and 'ave two feet for to walk about in the prince's +palace. Well, the sea-witch she up and tells 'er what she'd 'ave to +do. Only, says she, if you do that you'll 'ave to pye for it with +every step you tykes; for every step you tykes'll be like walkin' on +sharp blydes. Now, says she, to the little mermaid, do you think it'd +be worth while?" + +In Letty's eyes all the stars glittered with her eagerness for the +dénouement. "And did she think it was worth while--the little +mermaid?" + +"She did; but I'll give madam the tyle to read for 'erself. It's in +the syme little book what Miss Pye used to read out of--up in Mr. +Rash's old nursery." + +With the pride of a royal thing conscious of its royalty the car +rolled to the door and stopped. It was the prince's car, while she, +Letty, was a mermaid born in an element different from his, and +encumbered with a fish's tail. She must have shown this in her face, +for Steptoe said, with his fatherly smile: + +"Madam may 'ave to walk on blydes--but it'll be in the Prince's +palace." + +It'll be in the Prince's palace! Letty repeated this to herself as she +followed him out to the car. Holding the door open for her, Eugene, +who had been told of her romance, touched his cap respectfully. When +she had taken her seat he tucked the robe round her, respectfully +again. Steptoe marked the social difference between them by sitting +beside Eugene. + +Rolling down Fifth Avenue Letty was as much at a loss to account for +herself as Elijah must have been in the chariot of fire. She didn't +know where she was going. She was not even able to ask. The succession +of wonders within twenty-four hours blocked the working of her +faculties. She thought of the girls who sneered at her in the +studios--she thought of Judson Flack--and of what they would say if +they were to catch a glimpse of her. + +She was not so unsophisticated as to be without some appreciation of +the quarter of New York in which she found herself. She knew it was +the "swell" quarter. She knew that the world's symbols of money and +display were concentrated here, and that in some queer way she, poor +waif, had been given a command of them. One day homeless, friendless, +and penniless, and the next driving down Fifth Avenue in a limousine +which might be called her own! + +The motor was slowing down. It was drawing to the curb. They had +reached the place to which Steptoe had directed Eugene. Letty didn't +have to look at the name-plate to know she was where the great stars +got their gowns, and that she was being invited into Margot's! + +You know Margot's, of course. A great international house, Margot--the +secret is an open one--is but the incognita of a business-like English +countess who finds it financially profitable to sign articles on +costume written by someone else, and be sponsor for the newest +fashions which someone else designs. As a way of turning an +impoverished historic title to account it is as good as any other. + +Without knowing who Margot was Letty knew what she was. She couldn't +have frequented studios without hearing that much, and once or twice +in her wanderings about the city she had paused to admire the door. It +was all there was to admire, since Margot, to Letty's regret, didn't +display confections behind plate-glass. + +It was a Flemish château which had been a residence before business +had traveled above Forty-second Street. A man in livery would have +barred them from passing the wrought-iron grille had it not been for +the car from which they had emerged. Only people worthy of being +customers of the house could afford such cars, and he saw that Steptoe +was a servant. What Letty was he couldn't see, for servants of great +houses never looked so nondescript. + +In the great hall a beautiful staircase swept to an upper floor, but +apart from a Louis Seize mirror and console flanked by two Louis Seize +chairs there was nothing and no one to be seen. Steptoe turned to the +right into a vast saloon with a cinnamon-colored carpet and walls of +cool French gray. A group of gilded chairs were the only furnishings, +except for a gilded canapé between two French windows draped with +cinnamon-colored hangings. A French fender with French andirons filled +the fireplace, and on the white marble mantelpiece stood a _garniture +de cheminée_, a clock and two vases, in biscuit de Sèvres. + +At the end of the room opposite the windows a woman in black, with +coiffure à la Marcel, sat at a white-enamelled desk working with a +ledger. A second woman in black, also with coiffure à la Marcel, +stood holding open the doors of a white-enamelled wardrobe, gazing at +its multi-colored contents. Two other women in black, still with +coiffure à la Marcel, were bending over a white-enamelled drawer in a +series of white-enamelled drawers, discussing in low tones. There were +no customers. For such a house the season had not yet begun. Though in +this saloon voices were pitched as low as for conversation in a +church, the sharp catgut calls of Frenchwomen--and of French +dressmakers especially--came from a room beyond. + +Overawed by this vastness, simplicity, and solemnity, Steptoe and +Letty stood barely within the door, waiting till someone noticed them. +No one did so till the woman holding open the wardrobe doors closed +them and turned round. She did not come forward at once; she only +stared at them. Still keeping her eye on the newcomers she called the +attention of the ladies occupied with the drawer, who lifted +themselves up. They too stared. The lady at the desk stared also. + +It was the lady of the wardrobe who advanced at last, slowly, with +dignity, her hands genteelly clasped in front of her. She seemed to be +saying, "No, we don't want any," or, "I'm sorry we've nothing to give +you," by her very walk. Letty, with her gift for dramatic +interpretation, could see this, though Steptoe, familiar as he was +with ladies whom he would have classed as "'igher," was not daunted. +He too went forward, meeting madam half way. + +Of what was said between them Letty could hear nothing, but the +expression on the lady's face was dissuasive. She was telling Steptoe +that he had come to the wrong place, while Steptoe was saying no. From +time to time the lady would send a glance toward Letty, not in +disdain, but in perplexity. It was perplexity which reached its climax +when Steptoe drew from an inside pocket an impressive roll of bills. + +The lady looked at the bills, but she also looked at Letty. The honor +of a house like Margot's is not merely in making money; it is in its +clientèle. To have a poor little waif step in from the street.... + +And yet it was because she was a poor little waif that she interested +the ladies looking on. She was so striking an exception to their rule +that her very coming in amazed them. One of the two who had remained +near the open drawer came forward into conference with her colleague, +adding her dissuasions to those which Steptoe had already refused to +listen to. + +"There are plenty of other places to which you could go," Letty heard +this second lady say, "and probably do better." + +Steptoe smiled, that old man's smile which was rarely ineffective. +"Madam don't 'ave to tell me as there's plenty of other plyces to +which I could go; but there's none where I could do as well." + +"What makes you think so?" + +"I'm butler to a 'igh gentleman what 'e used to entertyne quite a bit +when 'is mother was alive. I've listened to lydies talkin' at tyble. +No one can't tell me. I _know_." + +Both madams smiled. Each shot another glance at Letty. It was plain +that they were curious as to her identity. One of them made a +venture. + +"And is this your--your daughter?" + +Steptoe explained, not without dignity, that the young lady was not +his daughter, but that she had come into quite a good bit of money, +and had done it sudden like. She needed a 'igh, grand outfit, though +for the present she would be content with three or four of the dresses +most commonly worn by a lydy of stytion. He preferred to nyme no +nymes, but he was sure that even Margot would not regret her +confidence--and he had the cash, as they saw, in his pocket. + +Of this the result was an exchange between the madams of comprehending +looks, while, in French, one said to the other that it might be well +to consult Madame Simone. + +Madame Simone, who bustled in from the back room, was not in black, +but in frowzy gray; her coiffure was not à la Marcel, but as Letty +described it, "all anyway." A short, stout, practical Frenchwoman, she +had progressed beyond the need to consider looks, and no longer +considered them. The two shapely subordinates with whom Steptoe had +been negotiating followed her at a distance like attendants. + +She disposed of the whole matter quickly, addressing the attendants +rather than the postulants for Margot's favor. + +"Mademoiselle she want an outfit--good!--bon! We don't know her, but +what difference does that make to me?--qu'est ce que c'est que cela me +fait? Money is money, isn't it?--de l'argent c'est de l'argent, +n'est-ce pas?--at this time of year especially--à cette saison de +l'année surtout." + +To Steptoe and Letty she said: "'Ave the goodness to sit yourselves +'ere. Me, I will show you what we 'ave. A street costume first for +mademoiselle. If mademoiselle will allow me to look at her--Ah, oui! +Ze taille--what you call in Eenglish the figure--is excellent. Très +chic. With ze proper closes mademoiselle would have style--de +l'élégance naturelle--that sees itself--cela se voit--oui--oui----" + +Meditating to herself she studied Letty, indifferent apparently to the +actual costume and atrocious hat, like a seeress not viewing what is +at her feet but events of far away. + +With a sudden start she sprang to her convictions. "I 'ave it. J'y +suis." A shrill piercing cry like that of a wounded cockatoo went down +the long room. "Alphonsine! Alphon_sine_!" + +Someone appeared at the door of the communicating rooms. Madame Simone +gave her orders in a few sharp staccato French sentences. After that +Letty and Steptoe found themselves sitting on two of the gilded +chairs, unexpectedly alone. The other ladies had returned to their +tasks. Madame Simone had gone back to the place whence they had +summoned her. Nothing had happened. It seemed to be all over. They +waited. + +"Ain't she goin' to show us nothin'?" Letty whispered anxiously. "They +always do." + +Steptoe was puzzled but recommended patience. He couldn't think that +Madame could have begun so kindly, only to go off and leave them in +the lurch. It was not what he had looked for, any more than she; but +he had always found patient waiting advantageous. + +Perhaps ten minutes had gone by when a new figure wandered toward +them. Strutted would perhaps be the better word, since she stepped +like a person for whom stepping means a calculation. She was about +Letty's height, and about Letty's figure. Moreover, she was pretty, +with that haughtiness of mien which turns prettiness to beauty. What +was most disconcerting was her coming straight toward Letty, and +standing in front of her to stare. + +Letty colored to the eyes--her deep, damask flush. The insult was +worse than anything offered by Mrs. Courage; for Mrs. Courage after +all was only a servant, and this a young lady of distinction. Letty +had never seen anyone dressed with so much taste, not even the stars +as they came on the studio lot in their everyday costumes. Indignant +as she was she could appreciate this delicate seal-brown cloth, with +its bits of gold braid, and darling glimpses of sage-green wherever +the lining showed indiscreetly. The hat was a darling too, brown with +a feather between brown and green, the one color or the other +according as the wearer moved. + +If it hadn't been for this cool insolence.... And then the young lady +deliberately swung on her heel, which was high, to move some five or +six yards away, where she stood with her back to them. It was a +darling back--with just enough gold braid to relieve the simplicity, +and the tiniest revelation of sage-green. Letty admired it the more +poignantly for its cold contempt of herself. + +Steptoe was not often put out of countenance, but it seemed to have +happened now. "I _can't_ think," he murmured, as one who contemplates +the impossible, "that the French madam can 'ave been so civil to begin +with, just to go and make a guy of us." + +"If all her customers is like this----" Letty began. + +But the young lady of distinction turned again, stepping a few paces +toward the back of the room, swinging on herself, stepping a few paces +toward the front of the room, swinging on herself again, and all the +while flinging at Letty glances which said: "If you want to see scorn, +this is it." + +Fascination kept Letty paralyzed. Steptoe grew uneasy. + +"I wish the French madam'd come back agyne," he murmured, from half +closed lips. "We 'aven't come 'ere to be myde a spectacle of--not for +no one." + +And just then the seal-brown figure strolled away, as serenely and +impudently as she had come. + +"Well, of all----!" + +Letty's exclamation was stifled by the fact that as the first young +lady of distinction passed out a second crossed her coming in. They +took no notice of each other, though the newcomer walked straight up +to Letty, not to stare but to toss up her chin with a hint of laughter +suppressed. Laughter, suppressed or unsuppressed, was her note. She +was all fair-haired, blue-eyed vivacity. It was a relief to Letty that +she didn't stare. She twitched, she twisted, she pirouetted, striking +dull gleams from an embroidery studded with turquoise and jade--but +she hadn't the hard unconscious arrogance of the other one. + +All the same it pained Letty that great ladies should be so beautiful. +Not that this one was beautiful of face--she wasn't--only +piquant--but the general effect was beautiful. It showed what money +and the dressmaker could do. If she, Letty could have had a dress and +a hat like this!--a blue or a green, it was difficult to say +which--with these strips of jade and turquoise on a ground of the +purplish-greenish-blue she remembered as that of the monkshood in the +old farm garden in Canada--and the darlingest hat, with one long +feather beginning as green and graduating through every impossible +shade of green and blue till it ended in a monkshood tip.... + +No wonder the girl's blue eyes danced and quizzed and laughed. As a +matter of fact, Letty commented, the eyes brought a little too much +blue into the composition. It was her only criticism. As a whole it +lacked contrast. If she herself had worn this costume--with her +gold-stone eyes--and brown hair--and rich coloring, when she had any +color--blue was always a favorite shade with her--when she could +choose, which wasn't often--she remembered as a child on the farm how +she used to plaster herself with the flowers of the blue succory--the +dust-flower they called it down there because it seemed to thrive like +the disinherited on the dust of the wayside--not but what the +seal-brown was adorable.... + +The spectacle grew dazzling, difficult for Steptoe to keep up with. He +and Letty were plainly objects of interest to these grand folk, +because there were now four or five of them. They advanced, receded, +came up and studied them, wheeled away, smiled sometimes at each other +with the high self-assurance of beauty and position, pranced, pawed, +curveted, were noble or coquettish as the inner self impelled, but +always the embodiment of overweening pride. Among the "real gentry," +as he called them, there had unfailingly been for him and his +colleagues a courtesy which might have been called only a distinction +in equality, whereas these high-steppers.... + +It was a relief to see the French madam bustling in again from the +room at the back. Steptoe rose. He meant to express himself. Letty +hoped he would. For people who brought money in their hands this +treatment was too much. When Steptoe advanced to meet madam, she went +with him. As her champion she must bear him out. + +But madam forestalled them. "I 'ope that mademoiselle has seen +something what she like. Me, I thought the brown costume--_coeur de le +marguerite jaune_ we call it ziz season----" + +Letty was quick. She had heard of mannequins, the living models, +though so remotely as to give her no visualized impression. Suddenly +knowing what they had been looking at she adapted herself before +Steptoe could get his protest into words. + +"I liked the seal-brown; but for me I thought the second one----" + +Madame Simone nodded, sagely. "Why shouldn't mademoiselle 'ave both?" + + + + +Chapter XI + + +While this question was being put, and Steptoe was rising to what he +saw as the real occasion, Rashleigh Allerton too was having a new +experience. He couldn't understand it; he couldn't understand himself. +Not that that was strange, since he had hardly ever understood himself +at any time; but now he was, as he expressed it, "absolutely +stumped." + +He had put on the table the bottle on which the kilted Highlander was +playing on the pipes; he had poured himself a glass. It was what he +called a good stiff glass, meant, metaphorically, to kill or cure, and +he hoped it would be to kill. + +And that was all. + +He had sat looking at it, or he had looked at it while walking about; +but he had only looked at it. It was as far as he could go. Now that +to go farther had become what he called a duty the perversity of his +nerves was such that they refused. It was like him. He could always do +the forbidden, the dare-devil, the crazily mad; but when it came to +the reasonable and straightforward something in him balked. Here he +was at what should have been the beginning of the end, and the demon +which at another time would have driven him on was holding him back. +Temptation had worked itself round the other way. It was temptation +not to do, when saving grace lay in doing. + +An hour or more had gone by when Mr. Radbury knocked at the door, +timidly. + +"Come in, Radbury," Allerton cried, in a gayety he didn't feel. "Have +a drink." + +Mr. Radbury looked at the bottle and the glass. He looked at his young +employer, who with his hands in his pockets, was again standing by the +window. It was the first time in all the years of his service, first +with the father and then with the son, that this invitation had been +given him. + +"Thanks, Mr. Rash," he said, with a thick, shaky utterance. "Liquor +and I are strangers. I wish I could feel----" + +But the old man's trembling anxiety forced on Allerton the fact that +the foolish game was up. "All right, Radbury. Was only joking. No harm +done. Had only taken the thing out to--to look at it." + +Before sitting down to read and sign the letters he put both glass and +bottle back into the keeping of Queen Caroline Murat, saying to +himself as he did so: "I must find some other way." + +He was thrown back thus on Barbara's suggestion of a few hours +earlier. He must get rid of the girl! He had scarcely as yet +considered this proposal, though not because he deemed it unworthy of +himself. Nothing could be unworthy of himself. A man who was so little +of a man as he was entitled to do anything, however base, and feel no +shame. It was simply that his mind hadn't worked round to looking at +the thing as feasible. And yet it was; plainly it was. The law allowed +for it, if one only took advantage of the law's allowances. It would +be beastly, of course; and more beastly for him than the average of +men; but because it was beastly it were better done at once, before +the girl got used to luxurious surroundings. + +But even this resolution, speedy as it was, came a little late. By +evening Letty was already growing used to luxurious surroundings, and +finding herself at home in them. + +First, there were no longer any women in the house, and with the three +men--Steptoe's friends being already installed--she found herself safe +from the prying and criticizing feminine. + +Secondly, some of the new clothes had already come home, and she was +now wearing the tea-gown she had long dreamt of but had never aspired +to possess. It was of a blue so dark as to be almost black, with a +flame colored bar across the breast, harmonizing with her hair and +eyes. Of her eyes she wasn't thinking; but her hair.... + +That, however, was another part of the day's fairy tale. + +When the dresses had been bought and paid for madame presumed to +Steptoe that mademoiselle was under some rich gentleman's protection. +Taking words at their face value, as she, Letty, did herself, Steptoe +admitted that she was. Madam made it plain that she understood this +honor, which often came to girls of the humblest classes, and the need +there could be for supplementing wardrobes suddenly. After that it was +confidence for confidence. Madame had seen that in the matter of +lingerie mademoiselle "left to desire," and though Margot made no +specialty in this line, they happened to have on an upper floor a +consignment just arrived from Paris, and if monsieur would allow +mademoiselle to come up and inspect it.... Then it was Madame Simone's +coiffeur. At least it was the coiffeur whom Madame Simone recommended, +who came to the house, after Letty had donned a peignoir from the +consignment just arrived from Paris.... And now, at half past nine in +the evening, it was the memory of a day of mingled agony and +enchantment. + +Having looked her over as he summoned her to dinner, Steptoe had +approved of her. He had approved of her with an inner emphasis +stronger than he expressed. Letty didn't know how she knew this; but +she knew. She knew that her transformation was a surprise to him. She +knew that though he had hoped much from her she was giving him more +than he had hoped. Nothing that he said told her this, but something +in his manner--in his yearning as he passed her the various dishes and +tactfully showed her how to help herself, in the tenderness with which +he repeated correctly her little slips in words--something in this +betrayed it. + +She knew it, too, when after dinner he begged her not to escape to the +little back room, but to take her place in the drawing-room. + +"Madam'll find that it'll pass the time for 'er. Maybe too Mr. +Rashleigh'll come in. 'E does sometimes--early like. I've known 'im to +come 'ome by 'alf past nine, and if 'is ma wasn't sittin' in the +drorin' room 'e'd be quite put out. Lydies mostly wytes till their +'usbands comes in; and in cyse madam'd feel lonely I'll leave the +door open to the back part of the 'ouse, and she'll 'ear me talkin' to +the boys." + +The October evening being chilly he lit a fire. Drawing up in front of +it a small armchair, suited for a lady's use, he placed behind it a +table with an electric lamp. Letty smiled up at him. He had never seen +her smile before, and now that he did he made to himself another +comment of approval. + +"You're awful good to me." + +He reflected as to how he could bring home to her the grammatical +mistake. + +"Madam finds me _horfly_ good, does she? P'rhaps that's because madam +don't know that 'er comin' to this 'ouse gratifies a tyste o' mine for +which I ain't never 'ad no gratificytion." + +As he put a footstool to her feet he caught the question she so easily +transmitted by her eyes. + +"P'raps madam can hunderstand that after doin' things all my life for +people as is used to 'em I've 'ad a kind o' cryvin' to do 'em for them +as 'aven't 'ad nothink, and who could enjoy them more. I told madam +yesterday I was somethink of a anarchist, and that's 'ow I am--wantin' +to give the poor a wee little bit of what the rich 'as to throw +awye." + +Later he brought her an old red book, open at a page on which she +read, _The Little Mermaid_. + +Her heart leaped. It was from this volume that Miss Pye had read to +the Prince when he was a child. She let her eyes run along the opening +words. + +"Far out in the sea the water is as blue as the petals of the +cornflower, and clear as the purest glass." + +She liked this sentence. It took her into a blue world. It was +curious, she thought, how much meaning there was in colors. If you +looked through red glass the world was angry; if through yellow, it +was lit with an extraordinary sun; if through blue, you had the +sensation of universal happiness. She supposed that that was why blue +flowers always made you feel that there was a want in life which ought +to be supplied--and wasn't. + +She remembered a woman who had a farm near them in Canada, who grew +only blue flowers in her garden. The neighbors said she was crazy; but +she, Letty, had liked that garden better than all the gardens she +knew. She would go there and talk to that woman, and listen to what +she had to say of Nature's peculiar love of blue. The sea and sky were +loveliest when they were blue, and so were the birds. There were blue +stones, the woman said, precious stones, and other stones that were +little more than rocks, which said something to the heart when pearls +and diamonds spoke only to the eyes. In the fields, orchards, and +gardens, white flowers, yellow flowers, red flowers were common; but +blue flowers were rare and retiring, as if they guarded a secret which +men should come and search out. + +To this there was only one exception. Letty would notice as she +trudged back to her father's farm that along the August roadsides +there was a blue flower--of a blue you would never see anywhere else, +not even in the sky--which grew in the dust, and lived on dust, and +out of the dust drew elements of beauty such as roses and lilies +couldn't boast of. "That means," the crazy woman said, "that there's +nothing so dry, or parched, or sterile, that God can't take it and +fashion from it the most priceless treasures of loveliness, if we only +had the eyes to see them." + +Letty never forgot this, and during all the intervening years the dust +flower, with its heavenly color, had been the wild growing thing she +loved best. It spoke to her. It not only responded to the ache she +felt within herself, but gave a promise of assuagement. She had never +expected the fulfilment of that promise, but was it possible that now +it was going to be kept? + +With her eyes on the fire she saw the color of the dust flower close +to the flaming wood. It was the closest of all the colors, the one the +burning heart kept nearest to itself. It seemed to be, as the crazy +woman said, dear to Nature itself, its own beloved secret, the secret +which, even when written in the dust of the wayside, or in the fire on +the hearth, hardly anyone read or found out. + +And as she was dreaming of this and of her Prince, Rashleigh was +walking up the avenue, saying to himself that he must make an end of +it. He was walking home because, having dined at the Club, he found +himself too restless to stay there. Walking relieved his nerves, and +enabled him to think. He must have the thing over and done with. She +would go decently, of course, since, as he had promised her, she would +have plenty of money to go with--plenty of money for the rest of her +life--and that was the sole consideration. She would doubtless be as +glad to escape as he to have her disappear. After that, so his lawyer +had assured him in the afternoon, the legal steps would be relatively +easy. + +Letting himself in with his latchkey he was surprised to see a light +in the drawing-room. It had not been lighted up at night, as far as he +could remember, since the days when his mother was accustomed to sit +there. If he came home early he had always used the library, which was +on the other side of the house and at the back. + +He went into the front drawing-room, which was empty; but a fire burnt +in the back one, and before it someone was seated. It was not the girl +he had found in the park. It was a lady whom he didn't recognize, but +clearly a lady. She was reading a book, and had evidently not heard +his entrance or his step. + +With the shadows of the front drawing-room behind him he stood between +the portieres, and looked. He had looked for some seconds before the +lady raised her eyes. She raised them with a start. Slowly there stole +into her cheek the dark red of confusion. She dropped the book. She +rose. + +It wasn't till she rose that he knew her. It wasn't till he knew her +that he was seized by an astonishment which almost made him laugh. It +wasn't till he almost laughed that he went forward with the words, +which insensibly bridged some of the gulf between them: + +"Oh! So this is--_you_!" + + + + +Chapter XII + + +Letty had not heard Allerton's entrance or approach because for the +first time in her life she was lost in the magic of Hans Andersen. + +"The sun had just gone down as the little mermaid lifted her head +above the water. The clouds were brilliant in purple and gold, and +through the pale, rose-tinged air the evening star shone clear and +bright. The air was warm and mild; the sea at rest. A great ship with +three masts lay close by, only one sail unfurled, for there was no +breath of air, and the sailors sat aloft in the rigging or leaned +lazily over the bulwarks. Music and singing filled the air, and as the +sky darkened hundreds of Chinese lanterns were lighted. It seemed as +if the flags of every nation were hung out. The little mermaid swam up +to the cabin window, and every time she rose upon the waves she could +see through the clear glass that the room was full of brilliantly +dressed people. Handsomest of all was the young prince with the great +dark eyes." + +Allerton's eyes were dark, and though she did not consider him +precisely young, the analogy between him and the hero of the tale was +sufficient to take her eyes from the book and to set her to dreaming. + +"He could not be more than sixteen years old, and this was his +birthday. All this gaiety was in honor of him; the sailors danced upon +the deck; and when the young prince came out a myriad of rockets flew +high in the air, with a glitter like the brightest noontide, and the +little mermaid was so frightened that she dived deep down under the +water. She soon rose up again, however, and it seemed as if all the +stars of heaven were falling round her in golden showers. Never had +she seen such fireworks; great, glittering suns wheeled by her, fiery +fishes darted through the blue air, and all was reflected back from +the quiet sea. The ship was lighted up so that one could see the +smallest rope. How handsome the young prince looked! He shook hands +with everybody, and smiled, as the music rang out into the glorious +night. It grew late, but the little mermaid could not turn her eyes +away from the ship and the handsome prince." + +Once more Letty's thought wandered from the page. She too would have +watched her handsome prince, no matter what the temptation to look +elsewhere. + +"The colored lanterns were put out, no rocket rose in the air, no +cannon boomed from the portholes; but deep below there was a surging +and a murmuring. The mermaid sat still, cradled by the waves, so that +she could look in at the cabin window. But now the ship began to make +more way. One sail after another was unfurled; the waves rose higher; +clouds gathered in the sky; and there was a distant flash of +lightning. The storm came nearer. All the sails were taken in, and the +ship rocked giddily, as she flew over the foaming billows; the waves +rose mountain-high, as if they would swallow up the very masts, but +the good ship dived like a swan into the deep black trough, and rose +bravely to the foaming crest. The little mermaid thought it was a +merry journey, but the sailors were of a different opinion. The ship +strained and creaked; the timbers shivered as the thunder strokes of +the waves fell fast; heavy seas swept the decks; the mainmast snapped +like a reed; and the ship lurched heavily, while the water rushed into +the hold. Then the young princess began to understand the danger, and +she herself was often threatened by the falling masts, yards, and +spars. One moment it was so dark that she could see nothing, but when +the lightning flamed out the ship was as bright as day. She sought for +the young prince, and saw him sinking down through the water as the +ship parted. The sight pleased her, for she knew he must sink down to +her home. But suddenly she remembered that men cannot live in the +water, and that he would only reach her father's palace a lifeless +corpse. No; he must not die! She swam to and fro among the drifting +spars, forgetting that they might crush her with their weight; she +dived and rose again, and reached the prince just when he felt that he +could swim no longer in the stormy sea. His arms were beginning to +fail him, his beautiful eyes were closed; in another moment he must +have sunk, had not the little mermaid come to his aid. She kept his +head above water, and let the waves carry them whither they would." + +Letty didn't want Allerton's life to be in danger, but she would have +loved saving it. She fell to pondering possible conditions in which +she could perform this feat, while he ran no risk whatever. + +"The next day the storm was over; not a spar of the ship was left in +sight. The sun rose red and glowing upon the waves, and seemed to pour +down new life upon the prince, though his eyes remained closed. The +little mermaid kissed his fair white forehead and stroked back his wet +hair. He was like the marble statue in her little garden, she thought. +She kissed him again, and prayed that he might live." + +Letty saw herself seated somewhere in a mead, Allerton lying +unconscious with his head in her lap, though the circumstances that +brought them so together remained vague. + +"Suddenly the dry land came in sight before her, high blue mountains +on whose peaks the snow lay white, as if a flock of swans had settled +there. On the coast below were lovely green woods, and close on shore +a building of some kind, the mermaid didn't know whether it was church +or cloister. Citrons and orange trees grew in the garden, and before +the porch were stately palm trees. The sea ran in here and formed a +quiet bay, unruffled, but very deep. The little mermaid swam with the +prince to the white sandy shore, laid him on the warm sand, taking +care that his head was left where the sun shone warmest. Bells began +to chime and ring through all parts of the building, and several young +girls entered the garden. The little mermaid swam farther out, behind +a tiny cliff that rose above the waves. She showered sea-foam on her +hair that no one might see its golden glory, and then waited patiently +to see if anyone would come to the aid of the young prince." + +To Letty that was the heart-breaking part of the story, the leaving +the beloved one to others. It was what she and the little mermaid had +in common, unless she too could get rid of her fish's tail at the cost +of walking on blades. But for the little mermaid there the necessity +was, as she, Letty read on. + +"Before long a young girl came by; she gave a start of terror and ran +back to call for assistance. Several people came to her aid, and after +a while the little mermaid saw the prince recover his consciousness, +and smile upon the group around him. But he had no smile for her; he +did not even know that she had saved him. Her heart sank, and when she +had seen him carried into the large building, she dived sorrowfully +down to her father's palace." + +Lifting her eyes to meditate on this situation Letty saw Allerton +standing between the portières. Her dream of being little mermaid to +his prince went out like a pricked bubble. Though he neither smiled +nor sneered she knew he was amused at her, with a bitterness in his +amusement. In an instant she saw her transformation as it must appear +to him. She had spent his money recklessly, and made herself look +ridiculous. All the many kinds of shame she had ever known focused on +her now, making her a glowing brand of humiliations. She stood +helpless. Hans Andersen dropped to the floor with a soft thud. +Nevertheless, it was she who spoke first. + +"I suppose you--you think it funny to see me rigged up like this?" + +He took time to pick up the book she had dropped and hand it back to +her. "Won't you sit down again?" + +While she seated herself and he followed her example she continued to +stammer on. "I--I thought I ought to--to look proper for the house as +long as I was in it." + +Her phrasing gave him an opening. "You're quite right. I should like +you to get whatever would help you in--in your profession before +you--before you leave us." + +Quick to seize the implications here she took them with the submission +of those whose lots have always depended on other people's wills. + +"I'll go whenever you want me to." + +Relieved as he was by this willingness he was anxious not to seem +brutal. "I'd--I'd rather you consulted your own wishes about that." + +She put on a show of nonchalance. "Oh, I don't care. It'll be +just--just as you say _when_." + +He would have liked to say when at that instant, but a pretense at +courtesy had to be maintained. "There's no hurry--for a day or two." + +"You said a week or two yesterday." + +"Oh, did I? Well, then, we'll say a week or two now." + +"Oh, not for me," she hastened to assure him. "I'd just as soon go +to-night." + +"Have you hated it as much as that?" + +"I've hated some of it." + +"Ah, well! You needn't be bothered with it long." + +Her candor was of the kind which asks questions frankly. "Haven't you +got any more use for me?" + +"I'm afraid--" it was not easy to put it into the right words--"I'm +afraid I was mistaken yesterday. I put you in--in a false position +with no necessity for doing so." + +It took her a few seconds to get the force of this. "Do you mean that +you didn't need me to be--to be a shame and a disgrace to you _at +all_?" + +"Did I put it in that way?" + +"Well, didn't you?" + +The fact that she was now dressed as she was made it more embarrassing +to him to be crude than it had been when addressing the homeless and +shabby little "drab." + +"I don't know what I said then. I was--I was upset." + +"And you're upset very easy, ain't you?" She corrected herself +quickly: "aren't you?" + +"I suppose that's true. What of it?" + +"Oh, nothing. I--I just happen to know a way you can get over that--if +you want to." + +He smiled. "I'm afraid my nervousness is too deeply seated--I may as +well admit that I'm nervous--you saw it for yourself----" + +"Oh, I saw you was--you were--sick up here--" she touched her +forehead--"as soon as you begun to talk to me." + +Grateful for this comprehension he tried to use it to his advantage. +"So that you understand how I could go off the hooks----" + +"Sure! My mother'd go off 'em the least little thing, till--till she +done--till she did--the way I told her." + +"Then some of these days I may ask you to--but just now perhaps we'd +better talk about----" + +"When I'm to get out." + +Her bluntness of expression hurt him. "That's not the way I should +have put it----" + +"But it's the way you'd 'a' meant, isn't it?" + +He was the more disconcerted because she said this gently, with the +same longing in her face and eyes as in that of the little mermaid +bending over the unconscious prince. + +The unconscious prince of the moment merely said: "You mustn't think +me more brutal than I am----" + +"Oh, I don't think you're brutal. You're just a little dippy, +ain't--aren't--you? But that's because you let yourself go. If when +you feel it comin' on you'd just--but perhaps you'd rather _be_ dippy. +Would you?" + +If he could have called these wide goldstone eyes with their tiny +flames maternal it is the word he would have chosen. In spite of the +difficulty of the minute he was conscious of a flicker of amusement. + +"I don't know that I would, but----" + +"After I'm gone shall we--shall we _stay_ married?" + +This being the real question he was glad she faced it with the +directness which gave her a kind of charm. He admitted that. She had +the charm of everything which is genuine of its kind. She made no +pretense. Her expression, her voice, her lack of sophistication, all +had the limpidity of water. He felt himself thanking God for it. "He +alone knows what kind of hands I might have fallen into yesterday, +crazy fool that I am." Of this child, crude as she was, he could make +his own disposition. + +So in answer to her question he told her he had seen his lawyer in the +afternoon--he was a lawyer himself but he didn't practice--and the +great man had explained to him that of all the processes known to +American jurisprudence the retracing of such steps as they had taken +on the previous day was one of the simplest. What the law had joined +the law could put asunder, and was well disposed toward doing so. +There being several courses which they could adopt, he put them before +her one by one. She listened with the sort of attention which shows +the mind of the listener to be fixed on the speaker, rather than on +anything he says. Not being obliged to ask questions or to make +answers she could again see him as the handsome, dark-eyed prince whom +she would have loved to save from drowning or any other fate. + +Of all he said she could attach a meaning to but one word: +"desertion." Even in the technical marital sense she knew vaguely its +significance. She thought of it with a tightening about the heart. Any +desertion of him of which she would be capable would be like that of +the little mermaid when she dived sorrowfully down to her father's +palace, leaving him with those to whom he belonged. It was this +thought which prompted a question flung in among his observations, +though the link in the train of thought was barely traceable: + +"Is she takin' you back--the girl you told me about yesterday?" + +He looked puzzled. "Did I tell you about a girl yesterday?" + +"Why, sure! You said she kicked you out----" + +"Well, she hadn't. I--I didn't know I'd gone so far as to say----" + +"Oh, you went a lot farther than that. You said you were goin' to the +devil. Ain't you? I mean, aren't you?" + +"I--I don't seem able to." + +"You're the first fellow I've ever heard say that." + +"I'm the first fellow I've ever heard say it myself. But I tried +to-day--and I couldn't." + +"What did you do?" + +"I tried to get drunk." + +She half rose, shrinking away from him. "Not--not _you!_" + +"Yes. Why not? I've been drunk before--not often, but----" + +"Don't tell me," she cried, hastily. "I don't want to know. It's +too----" + +"But I thought it was just the sort of thing you'd be----" + +"I'd be used to. So it is. But that's the reason. You're--you're +different. I can't bear to think of it--not with you." + +"But I'm just like any other man." + +"Oh, no, you're not." + +He looked at her curiously. "How am I--how am I--different?" + +"Oh, other men are just men, and you're a--a kind of prince." + +"You wouldn't think so if you were to know me better." + +"But I'm not goin' to know you better, and I'd rather think of you as +I see you are." She dropped this theme to say: "So the other +girl----" + +"She didn't mean it at all." + +"She'd be crazy if she did. But what made her let you think so?" + +"She's--she's simply that sort; goes off the hooks too." + +"Oh! So there'll be a pair of you." + +"I'm afraid so." + +"That'll be bloody murder, won't it? Momma was that way with Judson +Flack. Hammer and tongs--the both of them--till I took her in hand, +and----" + +"And what happened then?" + +"She calmed down and--and died." + +"So that it didn't do her much good, did it?" + +"It did her that much good that she died. Death was better than the +way she was livin' with Judson Flack--and it wasn't always his fault. +I do' wanta defend him, but momma got so that if he did have a quiet +spell she'd go and stir him up. There's not much hope for two married +people that lives like that, do you think?" + +"But you say your mother, under your instruction, got over it." + +"Yes, but it was too late. The more she got over it the more he'd +lambaste her, and when her money was all gone----" + +"But do you think all--all hot-tempered couples have to go it in that +way?" + +She made a little hunching movement of the shoulders. "It's mostly cat +and dog anyhow. You and her--the other girl--won't be much worse than +others." + +"But you think we'll be worse, to some extent at least." + +She ignored this to say, wistfully: "I suppose you're awful fond of +her." + +"I think I can say as much as that." + +"And is she fond of you?" + +"She says so." + +"If she is I don't see how she could--" Her voice trailed away. Her +eyes forsook his face to roam the shadows of the room. She added to +herself rather than to him: "I couldn't ha' done it if it was me." + +"Oh, if you were in love----" + +The eyes wandered back from the shadows to rest on him again. They +were sorrowful eyes, and unabashed. A child's would have had this +unreproachful ache in them, or a dog's. Though he didn't know what it +meant it disturbed him into leaving his sentence there. + +It occurred to him then that they were forgetting the subject in hand. +He had not expected to be able to converse with her, yet something +like conversation had been taking place. It had come to him, too, that +she had a mind, and now that he really looked at her he saw that the +face was intelligent. Yesterday that face had been no more to him than +a smudge, without character, and almost featureless, while to-day.... + +The train of his thought being twofold he could think along one line, +and speak along another. "So if you go to see my lawyer he'll suggest +different things that you could do----" + +"I'd rather do whatever 'ud make it easiest for you." + +"You're very kind, but I think I'd better not suggest. I'll leave that +to him and you. He knows already that he's to supply you with whatever +money you need for the present; and after everything is settled I'll +see that you have----" + +The damask flush which Steptoe had admired stole over a face flooded +with alarm. She spoke as she rose, drawing a little back from him. "I +do' want any money." + +He looked up at her in protestation. "Oh, but you must take it." + +She was still drawing back, as if he was threatening her with +something that would hurt. "I do' want to." + +"But it was part of our bargain. You don't understand that I +couldn't----" + +"I didn't make no such--" She checked herself. Her mother had rebuked +her for this form of speech a thousand times. She said the sentence +over as she felt he would have said it, as the people would have said +it among whom she had lived as a child. The cadence of his speech, the +half forgotten cadences of theirs, helped her ear and her intuitions. +"I didn't make any such bargain," she managed to bring out, at last. +"You said you'd give me money; but I never said I'd take it." + +He too rose. He began to feel troubled. Perhaps she wouldn't be at his +disposition after all. "But--but I couldn't stand it if you didn't let +me----" + +"And I couldn't stand it if I did." + +"But that's not reasonable. It's part of the whole thing that I should +look out for your future after what----" + +"I know what you mean," she declared, tremblingly. "You think that +because I'm--I'm beneath you that I ain't got--that I haven't got--no +sense of what a girl should do and what she shouldn't do. But you're +wrong. Do you suppose I didn't know all about how crazy it was when I +went with you yesterday? Of course I did. I was as much to blame as +you." + +"Oh, no, you weren't. Apart from your being what you call beneath +me--and I don't admit that you are--I'm a great deal older than +you----" + +"You're only older in years. In livin' I'm twice your age. Besides I'm +all right here----" she touched her forehead again--"and I could see +first thing that you was a fellow that needed to be took--to be +taken--care of." + +"Oh, you did!" + +She strengthened her statement with an affirmative nod. "Yes, I did." + +"Well, then, I've always paid the people who've taken care of me----" + +"Oh, but you didn't ask me to take care of you, and I didn't take no +care. You wanted me to be a disgrace to you, and I thought so little +of myself that I said I'd go and be it. Now I've got to pay for that, +not be paid for it." + +Her head was up with what Steptoe considered to be mettle. Though the +picture she presented was stamped on his mind as resembling the proud +mien of the girl in Whistler's Yellow Buskin, he didn't think of that +till later. + +"There's one thing I must ask you to remember," he said, in a tone he +tried to make firm, "that I couldn't possibly accept from you anything +in the way of sacrifice." + +Her eyes were wide and earnest. "But I never thought of _makin'_ +anything in the way of sacrifice." + +"It would be sacrifice for you to help me get out of this scrape, and +have nothing at all to the good." + +"But I'd have lots to the good." She reflected. "I'd have +rememberin'." + +"What have you got to remember?" + +With her child's lack of self-consciousness she looked him straight in +the eyes. "You--for one thing." + +"Me!" He had hardly the words for his amazement. "For heaven's sake, +what can you have to remember about me that--that could give you any +pleasure?" + +"Oh, I didn't say it would give me any pleasure. I said I'd _have_ it. +It'd be mine--something no one couldn't take away from me." + +"But if it doesn't do you any good----" + +"It does me good if it makes me richer, don't it?" + +"Richer to--to remember _me_?" + +She nodded, with a little twisted smile, beginning to move toward the +door. Over her shoulder she said: "And it isn't only you. +There's--there's Steptoe." + + + + +Chapter XIII + + +Making her nod suffice for a good-night, Letty, with the red volume of +Hans Andersen under her arm, passed out into the hall. It was not easy +to carry herself with the necessary nonchalance, but she got strength +by saying inwardly: "Here's where I begin to walk on blades." The +knowledge that she was doing it, and that she was doing it toward an +end, gave her a dignity of carriage which Allerton watched with +sharpened observation. + +Reaching the little back spare room she found the door open, and +Steptoe sweeping up the hearth before a newly lighted fire. Beppo, +whose basket had been established here, jumped from his shelter to paw +up at her caressingly. With the hearth-brush in his hand Steptoe +raised himself to say: + +"Madam'll excuse me, but I thought as the evenin' was chilly----" + +"He doesn't want me to stay." + +She brought out the fact abruptly, lifelessly, because she couldn't +keep it back. The calm she had been able to maintain downstairs was +breaking up, with a quivering of the lip and two rolling tears. + +Slowly and absently Steptoe dusted his left hand with the hearth-brush +held in his right. "If madam's goin' to decide 'er life by what +another person wants she ain't never goin' to get nowhere." + +There were tears now in the voice. "Yes, but when it's--_him_." + +"'Im or anybody else, we all 'ave to fight for what we means to myke +of our own life. It's a poor gyme in which I don't plye my 'and for +all I think it'll win." + +"Do you mean that I should--act independent?" + +"'Aven't madam an independent life?" + +"Havin' an independent life don't make it easier to stay where you're +not wanted." + +"Oh, if madam's lookin' first for what's easy----" + +"I'm not. I'm lookin' first for what he'll _like_." + +Hanging the hearth-brush in its place he took the tongs to adjust a +smoking log. "I've been lookin' for what 'e'd like ever since 'e was +born; and now I see that gettin' so much of what 'e liked 'asn't been +good for 'im. If madam'd strike out on 'er own line, whether 'e liked +it or not, and keep at it till 'e 'ad to like it----" + +"Oh, but when it's--" she sought for the right word--"when it's so +humiliatin'----" + +"Humiliatin' things is not so 'ard to bear, once you've myde up your +mind as they're to be borne." He put up the tongs, to busy himself +with the poker. "Madam'll find that humiliation is a good deal like +that there quinine; bitter to the tyste, but strengthenin'. I've +swallered lots of it; and look at me to-dye." + +"I know as well as he does that it's all been a crazy mistake----" + +"I was readin' the other day--I'm fond of a good book, I am--occupies +the mind like--but I was readin' about a circus man in South Africa, +what 'e myde a mistyke and took the wrong tryle--and just when 'e was +a-givin' 'imself up for lost among the tigers and the colored savages +'e found 'e'd tumbled on a mine of diamonds. Big 'ouse in Park Lyne in +London now, and 'is daughter married to a Lord." + +"Oh, I've tumbled into the mine of diamonds all right. The question +is----" + +"If madam really tumbled, or was led by the 'and of Providence." + +She laughed, ruefully. "If that was it the hand of Providence 'd have +to have some pretty funny ways." + +"I've often 'eard as the wyes of Providence was strynge; but I ain't +so often 'eard as Providence 'ad got to myke 'em strynge to keep pyce +with the wyes of men. Now if the 'and of Providence 'ad picked out +madam for Mr. Rash, it'd 'ave to do somethink out of the common, as +you might sye, to bring together them as man had put so far apart." He +looked round the room with the eye of a head-waiter inspecting a table +in a restaurant. "Madam 'as everythink? Well, if there's anythink else +she's only got to ring." + +Bowing himself out he went down the stairs to attend to those duties +of the evening which followed the return of the master of the house. +In the library and dining-room he saw to the window fastenings, and +put out the one light left burning in each room. In the hall he locked +the door with the complicated locks which had helped to guarantee the +late Mrs. Allerton against burglars. There was not only a bolt, a +chain, and an ordinary lock, but there was an ingenious double lock +which turned the wrong way when you thought you were turning it the +right, and could otherwise baffle the unskilful. Occupied with this +task he could peep over his shoulder, through the unlighted front +drawing-room, and see his adored one standing on the hearthrug, his +hands clasped behind him, and his head bent, in an attitude of +meditation. + +Steptoe, having much to say to him, felt the nervousness of a prime +minister going into the presence of a sovereign who might or might not +approve his acts. It was at once the weakness and the strength of his +position that his rule was based on an unwritten constitution. Being +unwritten it allowed of a borderland where powers were undefined. +Powers being undefined his scope was the more easily enlarged, though +now and then he found that the sovereign rebelled against the mayor of +the palace and had to be allowed his way. + +But the sovereign was nursing no seeds of the kind of discontent which +Steptoe was afraid of. As a matter of fact he was thinking of the way +in which Letty had left the room. The perspective, the tea-gown, the +effectively dressed hair, enabled him to perceive the combination of +results which Madame Simone had called _de l'élégance naturelle_. She +had that; he could see it as he hadn't seen it hitherto. It must have +given what value there was to her poor little rôles in motion +pictures. Now that his eye had caught it, it surprised, and to some +degree disturbed, him. It was more than the show-girl's inane +prettiness, or the comely wax-work face of the girl on the cover of a +magazine. With due allowance for her Anglo-Saxonism and honesty, she +was the type of woman to whom "things happen." Things would happen to +her, Allerton surmised, beyond anything she could experience in his +cumbrous and antiquated house. This queer episode would drop behind +her as an episode and no more, and in the multitude of future +incidents she would almost forget that she had known him. He hoped to +God that it would be so, and yet.... + +He was noting too that she hadn't taxed him, in the way of calling on +his small supply of nervous energy. Rather she had spared it, and he +felt himself rested. After a talk with Barbara he was always spent. +Her emotional furies demanded so much of him that they used him up. +This girl, on the contrary, was soothing. He didn't know how she was +soothing; but she was. He couldn't remember when he had talked to a +woman with so little thought of what he was to say and how he was to +say it, and heaven only knew that the things to be said between them +were nerve-racking enough. But they had come out of their own accord, +those nerve-racking things, probably, he reasoned, because she was a +girl of inferior class with whom he didn't have to be particular. + +She was quick, too, to catch the difference between his speech and her +own. She was quick--and pathetic. Her self-correction amused him, with +a strain of pity in his amusement. If a girl like that had only had a +chance.... And just then Steptoe broke in on his musing by entering +the room. + +The first subject to be aired was that of the changes in the household +staff, and Steptoe raised it diplomatically. Mrs. Courage and Jane had +taken offense at the young lydy's presence, and packed themselves off +in dishonorable haste. Had it not been that two men friends of his own +were ready to come at an hour's notice the house would have been +servantless till he had procured strangers. No condemnation could be +too severe for Mrs. Courage and Jane, for not content with leaving the +house in dudgeon they had insulted the young lydy before they went. + +"Sooner or lyter they would 'a' went any'ow. For this long time back +they've been too big for their boots, as you might sye. If Mr. Rash +'ad married the other young lydy she wouldn't 'a' stood 'em a week. It +don't do to keep servants too long, not when they've got no more than +a menial mind, which Jynie and Mrs. Courage 'aven't. The minute they +'eard that this young lydy was in the 'ouse.... And beautiful the wye +she took it, Mr. Rash. I never see nothink finer on the styge nor in +the movin' pictures. Like a young queen she was, a-tellin' 'em that +she 'adn't come to this 'ouse to turn out of it them as 'ad 'ad it as +their 'ome, like, and that she'd put it up to them. If they went she'd +stye; but if they styed she'd go----" + +"She's going anyhow." + +Steptoe moved away to feel the fastenings of the back windows. +"That'll be a relief to us, sir, won't it?" he said, without turning +his head. + +"It'll make things easier--certainly." + +"I was just 'opin' that it mightn't be--well, not too soon." + +"What do you mean by too soon?" + +"Well, sir, I've been thinkin' it over through the dye, just as you +told me to do this mornin,' and I figger out--" on a table near him he +began to arrange the disordered books and magazines--"I figger out +that if she was to go it'd better be in a wye agreeable to all +concerned. It wouldn't do, I syes to myself, for Mr. Rash to bring a +young woman into this 'ouse and 'ave 'er go awye feelin' anythink but +glad she'd come." + +"That'll be some job." + +"It'll be some job, sir; but it'll be worth it. It ain't only on the +young lydy's account; it'll be on Mr. Rash's." + +"On Mr. Rash's--how?" + +The magazines lapping over each other in two long lines, he +straightened them with little pats. "What I suppose you mean to do, +sir, is to get out o' this matrimony and enter into the other as you +thought as you wasn't goin' to enter into." + +"Well?" + +"And when you'd entered into the other you wouldn't want it on your +mind--on your conscience, as you might sye--that there was a young +lydy in the world as you'd done a kind o' wrong to." + +Allerton took three strides across the corner of the room, and three +strides back to the fireplace again. "How am I going to escape that? +She says she won't let me give her any money." + +"Oh, money!" Steptoe brushed money aside as if it had no value. "She +wouldn't of course. Not 'er sort." + +"But what _is_ 'er sort. She seemed one thing yesterday, and to-day +she's another." + +"That's somethink like what I mean. That young lydy 'as growed more in +twenty-four hours than lots'd grow in twenty-four years." He +considered how best to express himself further. "Did Mr. Rash ever +notice that it isn't bein' born of a certain kind o' family as'll myke +a man a gentleman? Of course 'e did. But did 'e ever notice that a +man'll often _not_ be born of a certain kind o' family, and yet be a +gentleman all the syme?" + +"I know what you're driving at; but it depends on what you mean by a +gentleman." + +"And I couldn't 'ardly sye--not no more than I could tell you what the +smell of a flower was, not even while you was a-smellin' of it. You +know a gentleman's a gentleman, and you may think it's this or that +what mykes 'im so, but there ain't no wye to put it into words. Now +you, Mr. Rash, anybody'd know you was a gentleman what merely looked +at you through a telescope; but you couldn't explyne it, not if you +was took all to pieces like the works of a clock. It ain't nothink you +do and nothink you sye, because if we was to go by that----" + +"Good Lord, stop! We're not talking about me." + +"No, Mr. Rash. We're talkin' about the queer thing it is what mykes +a gentleman, and I sye that I can't sye. But I _know_. Now, tyke +Eugene. 'E's just a chauffeur. But no one couldn't be ten minutes with +Eugene and not know 'e's a gentleman through and through. +Obligin'--good-mannered--modest--polite to the very cat 'e is--and +always with that nice smile--wouldn't _you_ sye as Eugene was a +gentleman, if anybody was to arsk you, Mr. Rash?" + +"If they asked me from that point of view--yes--probably. But what has +that to do with it?" + +"It 'as this to do with it that when you arsk me what sort that young +lydy is I 'ave to reply as she's not the sort to accept money from +strynge gentlemen, because it ain't what she's after." + +"Then what on earth _is_ she after? Whatever it is she can have it, if +I can only find out what it is." + +Steptoe answered this in his own way. "It's very 'ard for the poor to +see so much that's good and beautiful in the world, and know that they +can't 'ave none of it. I felt that myself before I worked up to where +I am now. 'Ere in New York a poor boy or a poor girl can't go out into +the street without seein' the things they're cryvin' for in their +insides flaunted at 'em like--shook in their fyces--while the law and +the police and the church and everythink what mykes our life says to +'em, 'There's none o' this for you.'" + +"Well, money would buy it, wouldn't it?" + +"Money'd buy it if money knew what to buy. But it don't. Mr. Rash must +'ave noticed that there's nothink 'elplesser than the people with +money what don't know 'ow to spend it. I used to be that wye myself +when I'd 'ave a little cash. I wouldn't know what to blow myself to +what wouldn't be like them vulgar new-rich. But the new-rich is vulgar +only because our life 'as put the 'orse before the cart with 'em, as +you might sye, in givin' them the money before showin' 'em what to do +with it." + +Having straightened the lines of magazines to the last fraction of an +inch he found a further excuse for lingering by moving back into their +accustomed places the chairs which had been disarranged. + +"You 'ave to get the syme kind of 'ang of things as you and me've got, +Mr. Rash, to know what it is you want, and 'ow to spend your money +wise like. Pleasure isn't just in 'avin' things; it's in knowin' +what's good to 'ave and what ain't. Now this young lydy'd be like a +child with a dime sent into a ten-cent store to buy whatever 'e'd +like. There's so many things, and all the syme price, that 'e's kind +of confused like. First 'e thinks it'll be one thing, and then 'e +thinks it'll be another, and 'e ends by tykin' the wrong thing, +because 'e didn't 'ave nothink to tell 'im 'ow to choose. Mr. Rash +wouldn't want a young lydy to whom 'e's indebted, as you might sye, to +be like that, now would 'e?" + +"It doesn't seem to me that I've got anything to do with it. If I +offer her the money, and can get her to take it----" + +"That's where she strikes me as wiser than Mr. Rash, for all she don't +know but so little. That much she knows by hinstinck." + +"Then what am I going to do?" + +"That'd be for Mr. Rash to sye. If it was me----" + +The necessity for getting an armchair exactly beneath a portrait +seemed to cut this sentence short. + +"Well, if it was you--what then?" + +"Before I'd give 'er money I'd teach 'er the 'ang of our kind o' life, +like. That's what she's aichin' and cryvin' for. A born lydy she is, +and 'ankerin' after a lydy's wyes, and with no one to learn 'em to +'er----" + +"But, good heavens, I can't do that." + +"No, Mr. Rash, but I could, if you was to leave 'er 'ere for a bit. I +could learn 'er to be a lydy in the course of a few weeks, and 'er so +quick to pick up. Then if you was to settle a little hincome on 'er +she wouldn't----" + +Allerton took the bull by the horns. "She wouldn't be so likely to go +to the bad. That's what you mean, isn't it?" + +Moving behind Allerton, who continued to stand on the hearthrug, +Steptoe began poking the embers, making them safe for the night. + +"Did Mr. Rash ever notice that goin' to the bad, as 'e calls it, ain't +the syme for them as 'ave nothink as it looks to them as 'ave +everythink? When you're 'ungry for food you heats the first thing you +can lie your 'ands on; and when you're 'ungry for life you do the +first thing as'll promise you the good you're lookin' for. What people +like you and me is hapt to call goin' to the bad ain't mostly no more +than a 'ankerin' for good which nothink don't seem to feed." + +Allerton smiled. "That sounds to me as if it might be dangerous +doctrine." + +"What excuses the poor'll often seem dyngerous doctrine to the rich, +Mr. Rash. Our kind is awful afryde of their kind gettin' a little bit +of what they're longin' for, and especially 'ere in America. When +we've took from them most of the means of 'aving a little pleasure +lawful, we call it dyngerous if they tyke it unlawful like, and we go +to work and pass laws agynst them. Protectin' them agynst theirselves +we sye it is, and we go at it with a gun." + +"But we're talking of----" + +"Of the young lydy, sir. Quite so. It's on 'er account as I'm syin' +what I'm syin'. You arsk me if I think she'll go to the bad in cyse +we turn 'er out, and I sye that----" + +Allerton started. "There's no question of our turning her out. She's +sick of it." + +"Then that'd be my point, wouldn't it, sir? If she goes because she's +sick of it, why, then, natural like, she'll look somewhere else for +what--for what she didn't find with us. You may call it goin' to the +bad, but it'll be no more than tryin' to find in a wrong wye what life +'as denied 'er in a right one." + +Allerton, who had never in his life been asked to bear moral +responsibility, was uneasy at this philosophy, changing the subject +abruptly. + +"Where did she get the clothes?" + +"Me and 'er, Mr. Rash, went to Margot's this mornin' and bought a +bunch of 'em." + +"The deuce you did! And you used my name?" + +"No, sir," Steptoe returned, with dignity, "I used mine. I didn't give +no 'andle to gossip. I pyde for the things out o' some money I 'ad in +'and--my own money, Mr. Rash--and 'ad 'em all sent to me. I thought as +we was mykin' a mistyke the young lydy'd better look proper while we +was mykin' it; and I knew Mr. Rash'd feel the syme." + +The situation was that in which the _fainéant_ king accepts the act of +the mayor of the palace because it is Hobson's choice. Moreover, he +was willing that she should have the clothes. If she wouldn't take +money she would at least apparently take them, which, in a measure, +would amount to the same thing. He was dwelling on this bit of +satisfaction when Steptoe continued. + +"And as long as the young lydy remynes with us, Mr. Rash, I thought +it'd be discreeter like not to 'ave no more women pokin' about, and +tryin' to find out what 'ad better not be known. It mykes it simpler +as she 'erself arsks to be called Miss Gravely----" + +"Oh, she does?" + +"Yes, sir; and that's what I've told William and Golightly, the waiter +and the chef, is 'er nyme. It mykes it all plyne to 'em----" + +"Plain? Why, they'll think----" + +"No, sir. They won't think. When it comes to what's no one's business +but your own women thinks; men just haccepts. They tykes things for +granted, and don't feel it none of their affair. Mr. Rash'll 'ave +noticed that there's a different kind of honor among women from what +there is among men. I don't sye but what the women's is all right, +only the men's is easier to get on with." + +There being no response to these observations Steptoe made ready to +withdraw. "And shall you stye 'ome for breakfast, sir?" + +"I'll see in the morning." + +"Very good, sir. I've locked up the 'ouse and seen to everythink, if +you'll switch off the lights as you come up. Good-night, Mr. Rash." + +"Good-night." + + + + +Chapter XIV + + +While this conversation was taking place Letty, in the back spare +room, was conducting a ceremonial too poignant for tears. There were +tears in her heart, but her eyes only smarted. + +Taking off the blue-black tea-gown, she clasped it in her arms and +kissed it. Then, on one of the padded silk hangers, she hung it far in +the depths of the closet, where it wouldn't scorch her sight in the +morning. + +Next she arrayed herself in a filmy breakfast thing, white with a +copper-colored sash matching some of the tones in her hair and eyes, +and simple with an angelic simplicity. Standing before the long mirror +she surveyed herself mournfully. But this robe too she took off, +kissed, and laid away. + +Lastly she put on the blue-green costume, with the turquoise and jade +embroidery. She put on also the hat with the feather which shaded +itself from green into monkshood blue. She put on a veil, and a pair +of white gloves. For once she would look as well as she was capable of +looking, though no one should see her but herself. + +Viewing her reflection she grew frightened. It was the first time she +had ever seen her personal potentialities. She had long known that +with "half a chance" she could emerge from the cocoon stage of the old +gray rag and be at least the equal of the average; but she hadn't +expected so radical a change. She was not the same Letty Gravely. She +didn't know what she was, since she was neither a "star" nor a "lady," +the two degrees of elevation of which she had had experience. All she +could feel was that with the advantages here presented she had the +capacity to be either. Since, apparently, the becoming a lady was now +excluded from her choice of careers, "stardom" would still have been +within her reach, only that she was not to get the necessary "half a +chance." That was the bitter truth of it. That was to be the result of +her walking on blades. All the same, as walking on blades would help +her prince she was resolved to walk on them. For her mother's sake, +even for Judson Flack's, she had done things nearly as hard, when she +had not had this incentive. + +The incentive nerved her to take off the blue-green costume, kissing +it a last farewell, and laying it to rest, as a mother a dead baby in +its coffin. Into the closet went the bits of lingerie from the +consignment just arrived from Paris, and the other spoils of the day. +When everything was buried she shut the door upon it, as in her heart +she was shutting the door on her poor little fledgling hopes. Nothing +remained to torment her vision, or distract her from what she had to +do. The old gray rag and the battered black hat were all she had now +to deal with. + +She slept little that night, since she was watching not for daylight +but for that first stirring in the streets which tells that daylight +is approaching. Having neither watch nor clock the stirring was all +she had to go by. When it began to rumble and creak and throb faintly +in and above the town she got up and dressed. + +So far had she travelled in less than forty-eight hours that the old +gray rag, and not the blue-green costume, was now the disguise. In +other words, once having tasted the prosperous she had found it the +natural. To go back to poverty was not merely hard; it was contrary to +all spontaneous dictates. Dimly she had supposed that in reverting to +the harness she had worn she would find herself again; but she only +discovered that she was more than ever lost. + +Very softly she unlocked her door to peep out at the landing. The +house was ghostly and still, but it was another sign of her +development that she was no longer afraid of it. Space too had become +natural, while dignity of setting had seemed to belong to her ever +since she was born. Turning her back on these conditions was far more +like turning her back on home than it had been when she walked away +from Judson Flack's. + +She crept out. It was so dark that she was obliged to wait till +objects defined themselves black against black before she could see +the stairs. She listened too. There were sounds, but only such sounds +as all houses make when everyone is sleeping. She guessed, it was pure +guessing, that it must be about five o'clock. + +She stole down the stairs. The necessity for keeping her mind on +moving noiselessly deadened her thought to anything else. She neither +looked back to what she was leaving behind, nor forward to what she +was going to. Once she had reached the street it would be time enough +to think of both. She had the fact in the back of her consciousness, +but she kept it there. Out in the street she would feel grief for the +prince and his palace, and terror at the void before her; but she +couldn't feel them yet. Her one impulse was to escape. + +At the great street door she could see nothing; but she could feel. +She found the key and turned it easily. As the door did not then yield +to the knob she fumbled till she touched the chain. Slipping that out +of its socket she tried the door again, but it still refused to open. +There must be something else! Rich houses were naturally fortresses! +She discovered the bolt and pulled it back. + +Still the door was fixed like a rock. She couldn't make it out. A +lock, a chain, a bolt! Surely that must be everything! Perhaps she had +turned the key the wrong way. She turned it again, but only with the +same result. She found she could turn the key either way, and still +leave the door immovable. + +Perhaps she didn't pull it hard enough. Doors sometimes stuck. She +pulled harder; she pulled with her whole might and main. She could +shake the door; she could make it rattle. The hanging chain dangled +against the woodwork with a terrifying clank. If anyone was lying +awake she would sound like a burglar--and yet she must get out. + +Now that she was balked, to get out became an obsession. It became +more of an obsession the more she was balked. It made her first +impatient, and then frantic. She turned the key this way and that way. +She pulled and tugged. The perspiration came out on her forehead. She +panted for breath; she almost sobbed. She knew there was a "trick" to +it. She knew it was a simple trick because she had seen Steptoe +perform it on the previous day; but she couldn't find out what it was. +The effort made her only the more desperate. + +She was not crying; she was only gasping--in raucous, exhausted, +nervous sobs. They came shorter and harder as she pitted her impotence +against this unyielding passivity. She knew it was impotence, and yet +she couldn't desist; and she couldn't desist because she grew more and +more frenzied. It was the kind of frenzy in which she would have +dashed herself wildly, vainly against the force that blocked her with +its pitiless resistance, only that the whole hall was suddenly flooded +with a blaze of light. + +It was light that came so unexpectedly that her efforts were cut +short. Even her hard gasps were silenced, not in relief but in +amazement. She remained so motionless that she could practically see +herself, thrown against this brutal door, her arms spread out on it +imploringly. + +Seconds that seemed like minutes went by before she found strength to +detach herself and turn. + +Amazement became terror. On the halfway landing of the stairs stood a +figure robed in scarlet from head to foot, with flying indigo lapels. +He was girt with an indigo girdle, while the mass of his hair stood up +as in tongues of forked black flame. The countenance was terrible, in +mingled perplexity and wrath. + +She saw it was the prince, but a prince transformed by condemnation. + +"What on earth does this mean?" + +He came down the rest of the stairs till he stood on the lowest step. +She advanced toward him pleadingly. + +"I was--I was trying to get out." + +"What for?" + +"I--I--I must get away." + +"Well, even so; is this the way to do it? I thought someone was +tearing the house down. It woke me up." + +"I was goin' this way because--because I didn't want you to know +what'd become of me." + +"Yes, and have you on my mind." + +"I hoped I'd be takin' myself off your mind." + +"If you want to take yourself off my mind there's a perfectly simple +means of doing it." + +"I'll do anything--but take money." + +"And taking money is the only thing I ask of you." + +"I can't. It'd--it'd--shame me." + +"Shame you? What nonsense!" + +She reflected fast. "There's two ways a woman can take money from a +man. The man may love her and marry her; or perhaps he don't marry +her, but loves her just the same. Then she can take it; but when----" + +"When she only renders him a--a great service----" + +"Ah, but that's just what I didn't do. You said you wanted me to send +you to the devil--and now you ain't a-goin' to go." + +He grew excited. "But, good Lord, girl, you don't expect me to go to +the devil just to keep my word to you." + +"I don't want you to do anything just to keep your word to me," she +returned, fiercely. "I only want you to let me get away." + +He came down the remaining step, beginning to pace back and forth as +he always did when approaching the condition he called "going off the +hooks." Letty found him a marvelous figure in his scarlet robe, and +with his mass of diabolic black hair. + +"Yes, and if I let you get away, where would you get away _to_?" + +"Oh, I'll find a place." + +"A place in jail as a vagrant, as I said the other day." + +"I'd rather be in jail," she flung back at him, "than stay where I'm +not wanted." + +"That's not the question." + +"It's the biggest question of all for me. It'd be the biggest for you +too if you were in my place." She stretched out her hands to him. "Oh, +please show me how to work the door, and let me go." + +He flared as he was in the habit of flaring whenever he was opposed. +"You can go when we've settled the question of what you'll have to +live on." + +"I'll have myself to live on--just as I had before I met you in the +Park." + +"Nothing is the same for you or for me as before I met you in the +Park." + +"No, but we want to make it the same, don't we? You can't--can't marry +the other girl till it is." + +"I can't marry the other girl till I know you're taken care of." + +"Money wouldn't take care of me. That's where you're makin' your +mistake. You rich people think that money will do anything. So it will +for you; but it don't mean so awful much to me." Her eyes, her lips, +her hands besought him together. "Think now! What would I do with +money if I had it? It ain't as if I was a lady. A lady has ways of +doin' nothin' and livin' all the same; but a girl like me don't know +anything about them. I'd go crazy if I didn't work--or I'd die--or I'd +do somethin' worse." + +It was because his nerves were on edge that he cried out: "I don't +care a button what you do. I'm thinking of myself." + +She betrayed the sharpness of the wound only by a deepening of the +damask flush. "I'm thinkin' of you, too. Wouldn't you rather have +everything come right again--so that you could marry the other +girl--and know that I'd done it for you _free_--and not that you'd +just bought me off?" + +"You mean, wouldn't I rather that all the generosity should be on your +side----" + +"I don't care anything about generosity. I wouldn't be doin' it for +that. It'd be because----" + +He flung out his arms. "Well--why?" + +"Because I'd like to do something _for_ you----" + +"Do something for me by making me a cad." He was beside himself. +"That's what it would come to. That's what you're playing for. I +should be a cad. You dress yourself up again in this ridiculous +rig----" + +"It's not a ridic'lous rig. It's my own clothes----" + +"Your own clothes _now_ are--are what I saw you in when I came home +last evening. You can't go back to that thing. We can't go back in any +way." He seemed to make a discovery. "It's no use trying to be what we +were in the Park, because we can't be. Whatever we do must be in the +way of--of going on to something else." + +"Well, that'd be something else, if you'd just let me go, and do the +desertion stunt you talked to me about----" + +"I'll not let you do it unless I pay you for it." + +"But it'd be payin' me for it if--if you'd just let me do it. Don't +you see I _want_ to?" + +"I can see that you want to keep me in your debt. I can see that I'd +never have another easy moment in my life. Whatever I did, and whoever +I married, I should have to owe it to _you_." + +"Well, couldn't you--when I owe so much to you?" + +"There you go! What do you owe to me? Nothing but getting you into an +infernal scrape----" + +"Oh, no! It's not been that at all. You'd have to be me to understand +what it _has_ been. It'll be something to think of all the rest of my +life--whatever I do." + +"Yes, and I know how you'll think of it." + +"Oh, no, you don't. You couldn't. It's nothin' to you to come into +this beautiful house and see its lovely kind of life; but for me----" + +"Oh, don't throw that sort of thing at me," he flamed out, striding up +and down. "Steptoe's been putting that into your head. He's strong on +the sentimental stuff. You and he are in a conspiracy against me. +That's what it is. It's a conspiracy. He's got something up his +sleeve--I don't know what--and he's using you as his tool. But you +don't come it over me. I'm wise, I am. I'm a fool too. I know it well +enough. But I'm not such a fool as to----" + +She was frightened. He was going "off the hooks." She knew the signs +of it. This rapid speech, one word leading to another, had always been +her mother's first sign of super-excitement, until it ended in a +scream. If he were to scream she would be more terrified than she had +ever been in her life. She had never heard a man scream; but then she +had never seen a man grow hysterical. + +His utterance was the more clear-cut and distinct the faster it +became. + +"I know what it is. Steptoe thinks I'm going insane, and he's made you +think so too. That's why you want to get away. You're afraid of me. +Well, I don't wonder at it; but you're not going. See? You're not +going. You'll go when I send you; but you'll not go before. See? I've +married you, haven't I? When all is said and done you're my wife. My +wife!" He laughed, between gritted teeth. "My wife! That's my wife!" +He pointed at her. "Rashleigh Allerton who thought so much of himself +has married _that_--and she's trying to do the generous by him----" + +Going up to him timidly, she laid her hand on his arm. "Say, mister, +would you mind countin' ten?" + +The appeal took him so much by surprise that, both in his +speech and in his walk, he stopped abruptly. She began to +count, slowly, and marking time with her forefinger. +"One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten." + +He stared at her as if it was she who had gone "off the hooks." "What +do you mean by that?" + +"Oh, nothin'. Now you can begin again." + +"Begin what?" + +"What you was--what you were sayin'." + +"What I was saying?" He rubbed his hand across his forehead, which was +wet with cold perspiration. "Well, what was I saying?" + +He was not only dazed, but a pallor stole over his skin, the more +ghastly in contrast with his black hair and his scarlet +dressing-gown. + +"Isn't there no place you can lay down? I always laid momma down after +a spell of this kind. It did her good to sleep and she always slept." + +He said, absently: "There's a couch in the library. I can't go back to +bed." + +"No, you don't want to go back to bed," she agreed, as if she was +humoring a child. "You wouldn't sleep there----" + +"I haven't slept for two nights," he pleaded, in excuse for himself, +"not since----" + +Taking him by the arm she led him into the library, which was in an +ell behind the back drawing-room. It was a big, book-lined room with +worn, shiny, leather-covered furnishings. On the shiny, +leather-covered couch was a cushion which she shook up and smoothed +out. Over its foot lay an afghan the work of the late Mrs. Allerton. + +"Now, lay down." + +He stretched himself out obediently, after which she covered him with +the afghan. When he had closed his eyes she passed her hand across his +forehead, on which the perspiration was still thick and cold. She +remembered that a bottle of Florida water and a paper fan were among +the luxuries of the back spare room. + +"Don't you stir," she warned him. "I'm goin' to get you something." + +Absorbed in her tasks as nurse she forgot to make the sentimental +reflections in which she would otherwise have indulged. Back to the +room from which she had fled she hurried with no thought that she was +doing so. From the grave of hope she disinterred a half dozen of the +spider-web handkerchiefs to which a few hours previously she had bid a +touching adieu. With handkerchiefs, fan, and Florida water, she flew +back to her patient, who opened his eyes as she approached. + +"I don't want to be fussed over----" he was beginning, fretfully. + +"Lie still," she commanded. "I know what to do. I'm used to people who +are sick--up here." + +"Up here" was plainly the forehead which she mopped softly with a +specimen from Margot's Parisian consignment. He closed his eyes. His +features relaxed to an expression of relief. Relief gave place to +repose when he felt her hand with the cool scented essence on his +brow. It passed and passed again, lightly, soothingly, consolingly. +Drowsily he thought that it was Barbara's hand, but a Barbara somehow +transformed, and grown tenderer. + +He was asleep. She sat fanning him till a feeble daylight through an +uncurtained window warned her to switch off the electricity. Coming +back to her place, she continued to fan him, quietly and deftly, with +no more than a motion of the wrist. She had the nurse's wrist, +slender, flexible; the nurse's hand, strong, shapely, with practical +spatulated finger-tips. After all, he was in some degree the drowning +unconscious prince, and she the little mermaid. + +"He'll be ashamed when he wakes up. He'll not like to find me sittin' +here." + +It was broad daylight now. He was as sound asleep as a child. Since +she couldn't disturb him by rising she rose. Since she couldn't +disturb him even by kissing him she kissed him. But she wouldn't kiss +his lips, nor so much as his cheek or his brow. Very humbly she knelt +and kissed his feet, outlined beneath the afghan. Then she stole +away. + + + + +Chapter XV + + +The interlacing of destinies is such that you will not be surprised to +learn that the further careers of Letty Gravely, of Barbara Walbrook, +of Rashleigh Allerton now turned on Mademoiselle Odette Coucoul, whose +name not one of the three was ever destined to hear. + +On his couch in the library Allerton slept till after nine, waking in +a confusion which did not preclude a sense of refreshment. At the same +minute Madame Simone was finishing her explanations to Mademoiselle +Coucoul as to what was to be done to the seal-brown costume, which +Steptoe had added to Letty's wardrobe, in order to conceal the fact +that it was a model of a season old, and not the new creation its +purchasers supposed. Taking in her instructions with Gallic precision +mademoiselle was already at work when Miss Tina Vanzetti paused at her +door. The door was that of a small French-paneled room, once the +boudoir of the owner of the Flemish chateau, but set apart now by +Madame Simone for jobs requiring deftness. + +Miss Vanzetti, whose Neapolitan grandfather had begun his American +career as a boot-black in Brooklyn, was of the Americanized type of +her race. She could not, of course, eliminate her Latinity of eye and +tress nor her wild luxuriance of bust, but English was her +mother-tongue, and the chewing of gum her national pastime. She +chewed it now, slowly, thoughtfully, as she stood looking in on +Mademoiselle Odette, who was turning the skirt this way and that, +searching out the almost invisible traces of use which were to be +removed. + +"So she's give you that to do, has she? Some stunt, I'll say. Gee, +she's got her gall with her, old Simone, puttin' that off on the +public as something new. If I had a dollar for every time Mamie Gunn +has walked in and out to show it to customers I'd buy a set of silver +fox." + +Mademoiselle's smile was radiant, not because she had radiance to +shed, but because her lips and teeth framed themselves that way. She +too was of her race, alert, vivacious, and as neat as a trivet, as +became a former midinette of the rue de la Paix and a daughter of +Batignolles. + +"Madame she t'ink it all in de beezeness," she contented herself with +saying. + +With her left hand Miss Vanzetti put soft touches to the big black +coils of her back hair. "See that kid that all these things is goin' +to? Gee, but she's beginnin' to step out. I know her. Spotted her the +minute she come in to try on. Me and she went to the same school. +Lived in the same street. Name of Letty Gravely." + +Seeing that she was expected to make a response mademoiselle could +think of nothing better than to repeat in her pretty staccato English: +"Name of Let-ty Grav-el-ly." + +"Stepfather's name was Judson Flack. Company-promoter he called +himself. Mother croaked three or four years ago, just before we moved +to Harlem. Never saw no more of her till she walked in here with the +old white slaver what's payin' for the outfit. Gee, you needn't tell +me! S'pose she'll hit the pace till some fella chucks her. Gee, I'm +sorry. Awful slim chance a girl'll get when some guy with a wad blows +along and wants her." The theme exhausted Miss Vanzetti asked +suddenly: "Why don't you never come to the Lantern?" + +In her broken English mademoiselle explained that she didn't know the +American dances, but that a fella had promised to teach her the steps. +She had met him at the house of a cousin who was married to a waiter +chez Bouquin. Ver' beautiful fella, he was, and had invited her to a +chop suey dinner that evening, with the dance at the Lantern to wind +up with. Most ver' beautiful fella, single, and a detective. + +"Good for you," Miss Vanzetti commanded. "If you don't dance you might +as well be dead, I'll say. Keeps you thin, too; and the music at the +Lantern is swell." + +The incident is so slight that to get its significance you must link +it up with the sound of the telephone which, as a simultaneous +happening, was waking Judson Flack from his first real sleep after an +uncomfortable night. Nothing but the fear lest by ignoring the call +the great North Dakota Oil Company whose shares would soon be on the +market, would be definitely launched without his assistance dragged +him from his bed. + +"Hello?" + +A woman's voice inquired: "Is this Hudson 283-J?" + +"You bet." + +"Is Miss Gravely in?" + +"Just gone out. Only round the corner. Back in a few minutes. Say, +sister, I'm her stepfather, and 'll take the message." + +"Tell her to come right over to the Excelsior Studio. Castin' +director's got a part for her. Real part. Small but a stunner. Outcast +girl. I s'pose she's got some old duds to dress it in?" + +"Sure thing!" + +"Well, tell her to bring 'em along. And say, listen! I don't mind +passing you the tip that the castin' director has his eye on that girl +for doin' the pathetic stunt; so see she ain't late." + +"Y'betcha." + +That an ambitious man, growing anxious about his future, was thus +placed in a trying situation will be seen at once. The chance of a +lifetime was there and he was unable to seize it. Everyone knew that +by these small condensations of nebular promise stars were eventually +evolved, and to have at his disposal the earnings of a star.... + +It seemed providential then that on dropping into the basement eating +place at which he had begun to take his breakfasts he should fall in +with Gorry Larrabin. They were not friends, or rather they were better +than friends; they were enemies who found each other useful. Mutually +antipathetic, they quarrelled, but could not afford to quarrel long. A +few days or a few weeks having gone by, they met with a nod, as if no +hot words had been passed. + +It was such an occasion now. Ten days earlier Judson had called Gorry +to his teeth "no detective, but a hired sneak." Gorry had retorted +that, hired sneak as he was, he would have Judson Flack "in the jug" +as a promoter of faked companies before the year was out. One word had +led to another, and only the intervention of friends to both parties +had kept the high-spirited fellows from exchanging blows. But the +moment had come round again when each had an axe to grind, so that as +Judson hung up his hat near the table at which Gorry, having finished +his breakfast, was smoking and picking his teeth, the nod of +reconciliation was given and returned. + +"Say, why don't you sit down here?" + +Politely Gorry indicated the unoccupied side of his own table. It was +a small table covered with a white oil-cloth, and tolerably clean. + +"Don't mind if I do," was the other's return of courtesy, friendly +relations being thus re-established. + +Having given his order to a stunted Hebrew maid of Polish culture, +Judson Flack launched at once into the subject of Letty. He did this +for a two-fold reason. First, his grievance made the expression of +itself imperative, and next, Gorry being a hanger-on of that +profession which lives by knowing what other people don't might be in +a position to throw light on Letty's disappearance. If he was he gave +no sign of it. As a matter of fact he was not, but he meant to be. He +remembered the girl; had admired her; had pointed out to several of +his friends that she had only to doll herself up in order to knock +spots out of a lot of good lookers of recognized supremacy. + +Odette Coucoul's description of him as "most ver' beautiful fella" +was not without some justification. Regular, clean-cut features, long +and thin, were the complement of a slight well-knit figure, of which +the only criticism one could make was that it looked slippery. +Slipperiness was perhaps his ruling characteristic, a softness of +movement suggesting a cat, and a habit of putting out and drawing back +a long, supple, snake-like hand which made you think of a pickpocket. +Eyes that looked at you steadily enough impressed you as untrustworthy +chiefly because of a dropping of the pupil of the left, through +muscular inability. + +"Awful sorry, Judson," was his summing up of sympathy with his +companion's narrative. "Any dope I get I'll pass along to you." + +Between gentlemen, however, there are understandings which need not be +put into words, the principle of nothing for nothing being one of +them. The conversation had not progressed much further before Gorry +felt at liberty to say: + +"Now, about this North Dakota Oil, Judson. I'd like awful well to get +in on the ground floor of that. I've got a little something to blow +in; and there's a lot of suckers ready to snap up that stock before +you print the certificates." + +Diplomacy being necessary here Judson practiced it. Gorry might indeed +be seeking a way of turning an honest penny; but then again he might +mean to sell out the whole show. On the one hand you couldn't trust +him, and on the other it wouldn't do to offend him so long as there +was a chance of his getting news of the girl. Judson could only +temporize, pleading his lack of influence with the bunch who were +getting up the company. At the same time he would do his utmost to +work Gorry in, on the tacit understanding that nothing would be done +for nothing. + + * * * * * + +Allerton too had breakfasted late, at the New Netherlands Club, and +was now with Miss Barbara Walbrook, who received him in the same room, +and wearing the same hydrangea-colored robe, as on the previous +morning. He had called her up from the Club, asking to be allowed to +come once more at this unconventional hour in order to communicate +good news. + +"She's willing to do anything," he stated at once, making the +announcement with the glee of evident relief. "In fact, it was by pure +main force that I kept her from running away from the house this +morning." + +He was dashed that she did not take these tidings with his own +buoyancy. "What made you stop her?" she asked, in some wonder. "Sit +down, Rash. Tell me the whole thing." + +Though she took a chair he was unable to do so. His excitement now was +over the ease with which the difficulty was going to be met. He could +only talk about it in a standing position, leaning on the mantelpiece, +or stroking the head of the Manship terra cotta child, while she gazed +up at him, nervously beating her left palm with the black and gold +fringe of her girdle. + +"I stopped her because--well, because it wouldn't have done." + +"Why wouldn't it have done? I should think that it's just what would +have done." + +"Let her slip away penniless, and--and without friends?" + +"She'd be no more penniless and without friends than she was +when--when you--" she sought for the right word--"when you picked her +up." + +"No, of course not; only now the--the situation is different." + +"I don't see that it is--much. Besides, if you were to let her run +away first, so that you get--whatever the law wants you to get, you +could see that she wasn't penniless and without friends afterwards. +Most likely that's what she was expecting." + +His countenance fell. "I--I don't think so." + +"Oh, you wouldn't think so as long as she could bamboozle you. I was +simply thinking of your getting what she probably wants to give +you--for a price." + +"I don't think you do her justice, Barbe. If you'd seen her----" + +"Very well; I shall see her. But seeing her won't make any difference +in my opinion." + +"She'll not strike you as anything wonderful of course; but I know +she's as straight as they make 'em. And so long as she is----" + +"Well, what then?" + +"Why, then, it seems to me, we must be straight on our side." + +"We'll be straight enough if we pay her her price." + +"There's more to it than that." + +"Oh, there is? Then how much more?" + +"I don't know that I can explain it." He lifted one of the Stiegel +candlesticks and put it back in its place. "I simply feel that we +can't--that we can't let all the magnanimity be on her side. If she +plays high, we've got to play higher." + +"I see. So she's got you there, has she?" + +"I wish you wouldn't be disagreeable about it, Barbe." + +"My dear Rash," she expostulated, "it isn't being disagreeable to have +common sense. It's all the more necessary for me not to abnegate that, +for the simple reason that you do." + +He hurled himself to the other end of the mantelpiece, picking up the +second candlestick and putting it down with force. "It's surely not +abnegating common sense just to--to recognize honesty." + +"Please don't fiddle with those candlesticks. They're the rarest +American workmanship, and if you were to break one of them Aunt Marion +would kill me. I'll feel safer about you if you sit down." + +"All right. I'll sit down." He drew to him a small frail chair, +sitting astride on it. "Only please don't fidget me." + +"Would you mind taking _that_ chair?" She pointed to something solid +and masculine by Phyffe. "That little thing is one of Aunt Marion's +pet pieces of old Dutch colonial. If anything were to happen to +it--But you were talking about recognizing honesty," she continued, as +he moved obediently. "That's exactly what I should like you to do, +Rash, dear--with your eyes open. If I'm not looking anyone can pull +the wool over them, whether it's this girl or someone else." + +"In other words I'm a fool, as you were good enough to say----" + +"Oh, do forget that. I couldn't help saying it, as I think you ought +to admit; but don't keep bringing it up every time I do my best to +meet you pleasantly. I'm not going to quarrel with you any more, Rash. +I've made a vow to that effect and I'm going to keep it. But if I'm to +keep it on my side you mustn't badger me on yours. It doesn't do me +any good, and it does yourself a lot of harm." Having delivered this +homily she took a tone of brisk cheerfulness. "Now, you said over the +phone that you were coming to tell me good news." + +"Well, that was it." + +"What was it?" + +"That she was ready to do anything--even to disappear." + +"And you wouldn't let her." + +"That I couldn't let her--with nothing to show for it." + +"But she will have something to show for it--in the end. She knows +that as well as I do. Do you suppose for a minute that she doesn't +understand the kind of man she's dealing with?" + +"You mean that----?" + +"Rash, dear, no girl who knows as much as this girl knows could help +seeing at a glance that she's got a pigeon to pluck, as the French +say, and of course she means to pluck it. You can't blame her for +that, being what she is; but for heaven's sake let her pluck it in her +own way. Don't be a simpleton. Angels shouldn't rush in where fools +would fear to tread--and you _are_ an angel, Rash, though I suppose +I'm the only one in the world who sees it." + +"Thank you, Barbe. I know you feel kindly toward me, and that, as you +say, you're the only one in the world who does. That's all right, I +acknowledge it, and I'm grateful. What I don't like is to see you +taking it for granted that this girl is merely playing a game----" + +"Rash, do you remember those two winters I worked in the Bleary Street +Settlement? and do you remember that the third winter I said that I'd +rather enlist in the Navy that go back to it again? You all thought +that I was cynical and hard-hearted, but I'll tell you now what the +trouble was. I went down there thinking I could teach those +girls--that I could do them good--and raise them up--and have them +call me blessed--and all that. Well, there wasn't one of them who +hadn't forgotten more than I ever knew--who wasn't working me when I +supposed she was hanging on my wisdom--who wasn't laughing at me +behind my back when I was under the delusion that she was following my +good example. And if you've got one of them on your hands she'll fool +the eyes out of your head." + +"You think so," he said, drily. "Then I don't." + +"In that case there's no use discussing it any further." + +"There may be after you've seen her." + +"How can I see her?" + +"You can go to the house." + +"And tell her I know everything?" + +"If you like. You could say I told you in confidence--that you're an +old friend of mine." + +"And nothing else?" + +"Since you only want to size her up I should think that would be +enough." + +She nodded, slowly. "Yes, I think you're right. Better not give +anything away we can keep to ourselves. Now tell me what happened this +morning. You haven't done it yet." + +He told her everything--how he had been waked by hearing someone +fumbling with the lock of the door, whether inside or outside the +house he couldn't tell--how he had gone to the head of the stairs and +switched on the lower hall light--how she had flung herself against +the door as a little gray bird might dash itself against its cage in +its passion to escape. + +"She staged it well, didn't she? She must have brains." + +"She has brains all right, but I don't think----" + +"She knew of course that if she made enough noise someone would come, +and she'd get the credit for good intentions." + +"I really don't think, Barbe.... Now let me tell you. You'll _see_ +what she's like. I felt very much as you do. I was right on the jump. +Got all worked up. Would have gone clean off the hooks if----" + +There followed the narrative of his loss of temper, of his wild talk, +of her clever strategy in counting ten--"just like a cold douche it +was"--and the faint turn he so often had after spells of emotion. To +convince Miss Walbrook of the queer little thing's ingenuousness he +told how she had made him lie down on the library couch, covered him +up, rubbed his brow with Florida water, and induced the best sleep he +had had in months. + +She surprised him by springing to her feet, her arms outspread. "You +great big idiot! Really there's no other name for you!" + +He gazed up at her in amazement. "What's the matter now?" + +Flinging her hands about she made inarticulate sounds of exasperation +beyond words. + +"There, there; that'll do," she threw off, when he jumped to her side, +to calm her by taking her in his arms. "_I'm_ not off the hooks. _I_ +don't want anyone to rub Florida water on my brow--and hold my +hand--and cradle me to sleep----" + +"She didn't," he exclaimed, with indignation. "She never touched my +hand. She just----" + +"Oh, I know what she did--and of course I'm grateful. I'm delighted +that she was there to do it--_delighted._ I quite see now why you +couldn't let her go, when you knew your fit was coming on. I've seen +you pretty bad, but I've never seen you as bad as that; and I must say +I never should have thought of counting ten as a cure for it." + +"Well, _she_ did." + +"Quite so! And if I were you I'd never go anywhere without her. I'd +keep her on hand in case I took a turn----" + +He was looking more and more reproachful. "I must say, Barbe, I don't +think you're very reasonable." + +She pushed him from her with both hands against his shoulders. "Go +away, for heaven's sake! You'll drive me crazy. I'm _not_ going to +lose my temper with you. I'll never do it again. I've got you to bear +with, and I'm going to bear with you. But go! No, go now! Don't stop +to make explanations. You can do that later. I'll lay in a supply of +Florida water and an afghan...." + +He went with that look on his face which a well meaning dog will wear +when his good intentions are being misinterpreted. On his way to the +office he kept saying to himself: "Well _I_ don't know what to do. +Whatever I say she takes me up the wrong way. All I wanted was for her +to understand that the little thing is a _good_ little thing...." + + + + +Chapter XVI + + +While Allerton was making these reflections Steptoe was summoned to +the telephone. + +"Is this you, Steptoe? I'm Miss Barbara Walbrook." + +Steptoe braced himself. In conversing with Miss Barbara Walbrook he +always felt the need of inner strengthening. "Yes, Miss Walbrook?" + +"Mr. Allerton tells me you've a young woman at the house." + +"We 'ave a young lydy. Certainly, miss." + +"And Mr. Allerton has asked me to call on her." + +Steptoe's training as a servant permitted him no lapses of surprise. +"Quite so, miss. And when was it you'd be likely to call?" + +"This afternoon about four-thirty. Perhaps you could arrange to have +me see her alone." + +"Oh, there ain't likely to be no one 'ere, miss." + +"And another thing, Steptoe. Mr. Allerton has asked me just to call as +an old friend of his. So you'll please not say to her that--well, +anything about me. I'm sure you understand." + +Steptoe replied that he did understand, and having put up the receiver +he pondered. + +What could it mean? What could be back of it? How would this +unsophisticated girl meet so skilful an antagonist. That Miss Walbrook +was coming as an antagonist he had no doubt. In his own occasional +meetings with her she had always been a superior, a commander, to whom +even he, 'Enery Steptoe, had been a servitor requiring no further +consideration. With so gentle an opponent as madam she would order and +be obeyed. + +At the same time he could not alarm madam, or allow her to shirk the +encounter. She had that in her, he was sure, which couldn't but win +out, however much she might be at a disadvantage. His part would be to +reduce her disadvantages to a minimum, allowing her strong points to +tell. Her strong points, he reckoned, were innocence, an absence of +self-consciousness, and, to the worldly-wise, a disconcerting candor. +Steptoe analyzed in the spirit and not verbally; but he analyzed. + +For Letty the morning had been feverish, chiefly because of her +uncertainty. Was it the wish of the prince that she should go, or was +it not? If it was his wish, why had he not let her? If, on the other +hand, he desired her to stay, what did he mean to do with her? He had +passed her on the way out to breakfast at the Club--she had been +standing in the hall--and he had smiled. + +What was the significance of that smile? She sat down in the library +to think. She sat down in the chair she had occupied while he lay on +the couch, and reconstructed that scene which now, for all her life, +would thrill her with emotional memories. There he had lain, his head +on the very indentation which the cushion still bore, his feet here, +where she had pressed her lips to them. She had actually had her hand +on his brow, she had smoothed back his hair, and had hardly noted at +the time that such was her extraordinary privilege. + +She came back to the fact that he had smiled at her. It would have +been an enchanting smile from anyone, but coming from a prince it had +all the romantic effulgence with which princes' smiles are infused. +How much of that romantic effulgence came automatically from the +prince because he was a prince, and how much of it was inspired by +herself? Was any of it inspired by herself? When all was said and done +this last was the great question. + +It brought her where so many things brought her, to the dream of love +at first sight. Could it have happened to him as it had happened to +herself? It was so much in her mental order of things that she was far +from considering it impossible. Improbable, yes; she would admit as +much as that; but impossible, no! To be sure she had been in the old +gray rag; but Steptoe had informed her that there were kings who went +about falling in love with beggar-maids. She would have loved being +one of those beggar-maids; and after all, was she not? + +True, there was the other girl; but Letty found it hard to see her as +a reality. Besides, she had, in appearance at least, treated him +badly. Might it not easily have come about that she, Letty, had caught +his heart in the rebound? She quite understood that if the prince +_had_ fallen in love with her at first sight, there might be +convulsion in his inner self without, as yet, a comprehension on his +part of the nature of his passion. + +She had reached this point when Steptoe entered the library on one of +his endless tasks of re-arranging that which seemed to be in +sufficiently good order. Putting the big desk to rights he said over +his shoulder: + +"Perhaps I'd better tell madam as she's to 'ave a caller this +afternoon." + +Letty sprang up in alarm. "A--_what_?" + +"A lydy what'll myke a call. Oh, madam don't need to be afryde. She's +an old friend o' Mr. Rash's, and'll want, no doubt, to be a friend o' +madam too." + +"But what does she know about me?" + +"Mr. Rash must 'a told 'er. She spoke to me just now on the telephone, +and seemed to know everything. She said she'd be 'ere this afternoon +about four-thirty, if madam'd be so good as to give 'er a cup o' +tea." + +"Me?" + +Having invented the cup of tea for his own purpose Steptoe went on to +explain further. "It's what the 'igh lydies mostly gives each other +about 'alf past four or five o'clock, and madam couldn't homit it +without seemin' as if she didn't know what's what. It'll be very +important for madam to tyke 'er position from the start. If the lydy +is comin' friendly like she'd be 'urt if madam wasn't friendly too." + +Letty had seen the giving and taking of tea in more than one scene in +the movies, and had also, from a discreet corner, witnessed the +enacting of it right in the "set" on the studio lot. She remembered +one time in particular when Luciline Lynch, the star in _Our Crimson +Sins_, had driven Frank Redgar, the director, almost out of his senses +by her inability to get the right turn of the wrist. Letty, too, had +been almost out of her senses with the longing to be in Luciline +Lynch's place, to do the thing in what was obviously the way. But now +that she was confronted with the opportunity in real life she saw the +situation otherwise. + +"And I won't be able to talk right," was the difficulty she raised +next. + +"That'll be a chance for madam to listen and ketch on. She's horfly +quick, madam is, and by listenin' to Miss Walbrook, that's the lydy's +nyme, and listenin' to 'erself--" He broke off to emphasize this line +of suggestion--"it's listenin' to 'erself that'll 'elp madam most. +It's a thing as 'ardly no one does. If they did they'd be 'orrified at +their squawky voices and bad pernounciation. If I didn't listen to +myself, why, I'd talk as bad as anyone, but--Well, as I sye, this'll +give madam a chance. All the time what Miss Walbrook is speakin' madam +can be listenin' to 'er and listenin' to 'erself too, and if she mykes +mistykes this time she'll myke fewer the next." + +Letty was pondering these hints as he continued. + +"Now if madam wouldn't think me steppin' out of my plyce I'd suggest +that me and 'er 'as a little tea of our own like--right now--in the +drorin' room--and I'll be Miss Walbrook--and William'll be +William--and madam'll be madam--and we'll get it letter-perfect before +'and, just as with Mary Ann Courage and Jyne." + +No sooner said than done. Letty was already wearing the white filmy +thing with the copper-sash, buried with solemn rites on the previous +night, but disinterred that morning, which did very well as a +tea-gown. Steptoe placed her in the corner of the sofa which the lyte +Mrs. Allerton had generally occupied when "receivin' company", and +William brought in the tea-equipage on a gorgeous silver tray. + +Before he did this it had been necessary to school William to his +part, which, to do him justice, he carried out with becoming gravity. +Any reserves he might have felt were expressed to Golightly by a wink +behind Steptoe's back before he left the kitchen. The wink was the +more expressive owing to the fact that Golightly and William had +already summed up the old fellow as "balmy on the bean," while their +part was to humor him. Plain as a bursting shell seemed to William +Miss Gravely's position in the household, and Steptoe's chivalry +toward her an eccentricity which a sense of humor could enjoy. +Otherwise they justified his reading of the fundamental non-morality +of men, in bringing no condemnation to bear on anyone concerned. Being +themselves two almost incapacitated heroes, with jobs likely to prove +"soft," it was wise, they felt, to enter into Steptoe's comedy. At +half past ten in the morning, therefore, Golightly prepared tea and +buttered toast, while William arranged the tea-tray with those +over-magnificent appointments which had been "the lyte Mrs. Allerton's +tyste." + +From her corner of the sofa Letty heard the butler announce, in a +voice stately but not stentorian: "Miss Barbara Walbrook." + +He was so near the door that to step out and step in again was the +work of a second. In stepping in again he trod daintily, wriggling the +back part of his person, better to simulate the feminine. In order +that Letty should nowhere be caught unaware he put out his hand +languidly, back upward, as princesses do when they expect it to be +kissed. + +"So delighted to find you at 'ome, Mrs. Allerton. It's such a very +fine dye I was sure as you'd be out." + +Rising from her corner Letty shook the relaxed hand as she might have +shaken a dog's tail. "Very pleased to meet you." + +From the histrionic Steptoe lapsed at once into the critical. "I think +if madam was to sye, 'So glad to be _at_ 'ome, Miss Walbrook; do let +me ring for tea,' it'd be more like the lyte Mrs. Allerton." + +Obediently Letty repeated this formula, had the bell pointed out to +her, and rang. The ladies having seated themselves, Miss Walbrook +continued to improvise on the subject of the weather. + +"Some o' these October dyes'll be just like summer time! and then +agyne there'll be a nip in the wind as'll fairly freeze you. A good +time o' year to get out your furs, and I'm sure I 'ope as 'ow the +moths 'aven't gone and got at 'em. Horfly nasty things them moths. +They sye as everything in the world 'as a use; but I'm sure I don't +see what use there is for moths, eatin' 'oles in the seats of +gentlemen's trousers, no matter what you do to keep the coat-closet +aired--and everything like that. What do you sye, Mrs. Allerton?" + +Letty was relieved of the necessity of answering by the entrance of +William with the tray, after which her task became easier. Used to +making "a good cup of tea" in an ordinary way, the doing it with this +formal ceremoniousness was only a matter of revision. As if it was +yesterday she recalled the instructions given to Luciline Lynch, +"Lemon?--cream?--one lump?--two lumps?" so that Miss Walbrook was +startled by her readiness. She, Miss Walbrook, was betrayed, in fact, +into some confusion of personality, stating that she would have cream +and no sugar, and that furthermore Englishmen like herself 'ardly ever +took lemon in their tea, and in her opinion no one ever did to whom +the tea-drinking 'abit was 'abitual. + +"It's a question of tyste," Miss Walbrook continued, sipping with a +soft siffling noise in the way he considered to be ladylike. "Them +that 'as drunk tea with their mother's milk, as you might sye, 'll +tyke cream and sugar, one or both; but them that 'as picked up the +'abit in lyter life 'll often condescend to lemon." + +What the rehearsal did for Letty was to make the mechanical task +familiar, while she concentrated her attention on Miss Walbrook. + +It has to be admitted that to Barbara Walbrook Letty was a shock. +Having worked for two years in the Bleary Street Settlement she had +her preconceived ideas of what she was to find, and she found +something so different that her first consciousness was that of being +"sold." + +Steptoe had received her at the door, and having ushered her into the +drawing-room announced, "Miss Barbara Walbrook," as if she had been +calling on a duchess. From the semi-obscurity of the back drawing-room +a small lithe figure came forward a step or two. The small lithe +figure was wearing a tea-gown of which so practiced an eye as Miss +Walbrook's could not but estimate the provenance and value, while a +sweet voice said: + +"I'm so glad to be at home, Miss Walbrook. Do let me ring for tea." + +Before a protest could be voiced the bell had been rung, so that Miss +Walbrook found herself sitting in the chair Steptoe had used in the +morning, and listening to her hostess as you listen to people in a +dream. + +"Beautiful weather for October, isn't it? Some of these October +days'll be just like summer time. And then again there'll be a nip in +the wind that'll fairly freeze you. A good time of year to get out +your furs, isn't it? and I'm sure I hope the moths ain't--haven't--got +at them. Awfully nasty things moths----" + +Letty's further efforts were interrupted by William bearing the tray +as he had borne it in the morning, and in the minutes of silence while +he placed it Miss Walbrook could go through the mental process known +as pulling oneself together. + +But she couldn't pull herself together without a sense of outrage. She +had expected to feel shame, vicariously for Rash; she had not expected +to be asked to take part in a horrible bit of play-acting. This +dressing-up; this mock hospitality; this desecration of the things +which "dear Mrs. Allerton" had used; this mingling of ignorance and +pretentiousness, inspired a rage prompting her to fling the back of +her hand at the ridiculous creature's face. She couldn't do that, of +course. She couldn't even express herself as she felt. She had come on +a mission, and she must carry out that mission; and to carry out the +mission she must be as suave as her indignation would allow of. _She_ +was morally the mistress of this house. Rash and all Rash owned +belonged to _her_. To see this strumpet sitting in her place.... + +It did nothing to calm her that while she was pressing Rash's ring +into her flesh, beneath her glove, this vile thing was wearing a plain +gold band, just as if she was married. She could understand that if +they had absurdly walked through an absurd ceremony the absurd +minister who performed it might have insisted on this absurd symbol; +but it should have been snatched from the creature's hand the minute +the business was ended. They owed that to _her_. _Hers_ was the only +claim Rash had to consider, and to allow this farce to be enacted +beneath his roof.... + +But she remembered that Letty didn't know who she was, or why she had +come, or the degree to which she, Barbara Walbrook, saw through this +foolery. + +Letty repeated her little formula: "Lemon?--cream?--one lump?--two +lumps?" though before she reached the end of it her voice began to +fail. Catching the hostility in the other woman's bearing, she felt it +the more acutely because in style, dress, and carriage this was the +model she would have chosen for herself. + +Miss Walbrook waved hospitality aside. "Thank you, no; nothing in the +way of tea." She nodded over her shoulder towards William's retreating +form. "Who's that man?" + +Her tone was that of a person with the right to inquire. Letty didn't +question that right, knowing the extent to which she herself was an +usurper. "His name is William." + +"How did he come here?" + +"I--I don't know." + +"Where are Nettie and Jane?" + +"They've--they've left." + +"Left? Why?" + +"I--I don't know." + +"And has Mrs. Courage left too?" + +Letty nodded, the damask flush flooding her cheeks darkly. + +"When? Since--since you came?" + +Letty nodded again. She knew now that this was the bar of social +judgment of which she had been afraid. + +The social judge continued. "That must be very hard on Mr. Allerton." + +Letty bowed her head. "I suppose it is." + +"He's not used to new people about him, and it's not good for him. I +don't know whether you've seen enough of him to know that he's +something of an invalid." + +"I know--" she touched her forehead--"that he's sick up here." + +"Oh, do you? Then I shouldn't have thought that you'd have--" but she +dropped this line to take up another. "Yes, he's always been so. When +he was a boy they were afraid he might be epileptic; and though he +never was as bad as that he's always needed to be taken care of. He +can do very wild and foolish things as--as you've discovered for +yourself." + +Letty felt herself now a little shameful lump of misery. This woman +was so experienced, so right. She spoke with a decision and an +authority which made love at first sight a fancy to blush at. Letty +could say nothing because there was nothing to say, and meanwhile the +determined voice went on. + +"It's terrible for a man like him to make such a mistake, because +being what he is he can't grapple with it as a stronger or a coarser +man would do." + +But here Letty saw something that might be faintly pleaded in her own +defence. "He says he wouldn't ha' made the mistake if that--that other +girl hadn't been crazy." + +Barbara drew herself up. "Did he--did he say that?" + +"He said something like it. He said she went off the hooks, just like +he did himself." She raised her eyes. "Do you know her, Miss +Walbrook?" + +"Yes, I know her." + +"She must be an awful fool." + +Barbara prayed for patience. "What--what makes you say so?" + +"Oh, just what _he's_ said." + +"And what has he said? Has he talked about her to _you_?" + +"He hasn't talked about her. He's just--just let things out." + +"What sort of things?" + +"Only that sort." She added, as if to herself: "I don't believe he +thinks much of her." + +Barbara's self-control was miraculous. "I've understood that he was +very much in love with her." + +"Well, perhaps he is." Letty's little movement of the shoulders hinted +that an expert wouldn't be of this opinion. "He may think he is, +anyhow." + +"But if he thinks he is----" + +Letty's eyes rested on her visitor with their compelling candor. "I +don't believe men know much about love, do you, Miss Walbrook?" + +"It depends. All men haven't had as much experience of it as I suppose +you've had----" + +"Oh, I haven't had any." The candor of the eyes was now in the whole +of the truthful face. "Nobody was ever in love with me--never. I never +had a fella--nor nothing." + +In spite of herself Barbara believed this. She couldn't help herself. +She could hear Rash saying that whatever else was wrong in the +ridiculous business the girl herself was straight. All the same the +discussion was beneath her. It was beneath her to listen to opinions +of herself coming from such a source. If Rash didn't "think much of +her" there was something to "have out" with him, not with this little +street-waif dressed up with this ludicrous mummery. The sooner she +ended the business on which she had come the sooner she would get a +legitimate outlet for the passion of jealousy and rage consuming her. + +"But we're wandering away from my errand. I won't pretend that I've +come of my own accord. I'm a very old friend of Mr. Allerton's, and +he's asked me--or practically asked me--to come and find out----" + +For what she was to come and find out she lacked for a minute the +right word, and so held up the sentence. + +"What I'd take to let him off?" + +The form of expression was so crude that once more Barbara was +startled. "Well, that's what it would come to." + +"But I've told him already that--that I want to let him off anyhow." + +"Yes? And on what terms?" + +"I don't want any terms." + +"Oh, but there must be _terms_. He couldn't let you do it----" + +"He could let me do it for _him_, couldn't he? I'd go through fire, if +it'd make him a bit more comfortable than he is." + +Barbara could not believe her ears. "Do you want me to understand +that----?" + +"That I'll do whatever will make him happy just to _make_ him happy? +Yes. That's it. He didn't need to send no one--to send anyone--to ask +me, because I've told him so already. He wants me to get out. Well, +I'm ready to get out. He wants me to go to the bad. Well, I'm +ready----" + +"Yes; he understands all that. But, don't you see? a man in his +position couldn't take such a sacrifice from a girl in yours----" + +"Unless he pays me for it in cash." + +"That's putting it in a nutshell. If you owned a house, for instance, +and I wanted it, I'd buy it from you and pay you for it; but I +couldn't take it as a gift, no matter how liberal you were nor how +much I needed it." + +"I can see that about a house; but your own self is different. I could +sell a house when I couldn't sell--myself." + +"Oh, but would you call that selling yourself?" + +"It'd be selling myself--the way I look at it. When I'm so ready to do +what he wants I can't see why he don't let me." She added, tearfully: +"Did he tell you about this morning?" + +She nodded. "Yes, he told me about that." + +"Well, I would have gone then if--if I'd known how to work the door." + +"Oh, that's easy enough." + +"Do you know?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Will you show me?" + +Miss Walbrook rose. "It's so simple." She continued, as they went +toward the door: "You see, Mr. Allerton's mother always kept a lot of +valuable jewelry in the house, and she was afraid of burglars. She had +the most wonderful pearls. I suppose Mr. Allerton has them still, +locked away in some bank. Burglars would never come in by the front +door, my aunt used to tell her, but--" They reached the door itself. +"Now, you see, there's a common lock, a bolt, and a chain----" + +Letty explained that she had discovered them already. + +"But, you see these two little brass knobs over here? That's the +trick. You push this one this way, and that one that way, and the door +is locked with an extra double lock, which hardly anyone would +suspect. See?" + +She shook the door which resisted as it had resisted Letty in the +morning. + +"Now! You push that one this way, and this one that way--and there you +are!" + +She opened the door to show how easily the thing could be done; and +the door being open she passed out. She had not intended to go in +this way; but, after all, was not her mission accomplished? It was +nothing to her whether this girl accepted money, or whether she did +not. The one thing essential was that she should take herself away; +and if she was sincere in what she said she had now the means of doing +it. Without troubling herself to take her leave Miss Walbrook went +down the steps. + +Before turning toward Fifth Avenue she glanced back. Letty was +standing in the open doorway, her flaming eyes wide, her expression +puzzled and wounded. "It's nothing to me," Barbara repeated to herself +firmly; but because she was a lady, as she understood the word lady, +almost before she was a woman, she smiled faintly, with a distant, and +yet not discourteous, inclination of the head. + + + + +Chapter XVII + + +It was because she was a lady, as she understood the word lady, that +by the time she had walked the few steps into Fifth Avenue Miss +Walbrook already felt the inner reproach of having done something +mean. To do anything mean was so strange to her that she didn't at +first recognize the sensation. She only found herself repeating two +words, and repeating them uneasily: "_Noblesse oblige!_" + +Nevertheless, on the principle that all's fair in love and war, she +fought this off. "Either she must go or I must." That she herself +should go was not to be considered; therefore the other must go, and +by the shortest way. The shortest way was the way she had shown her, +and which the girl herself was desirous to take. There was no more +than that to the situation. + +There was no more than that to the situation unless it was that the +strong was taking a poor advantage of the weak. But then, why +shouldn't the strong take any advantage it possessed? What otherwise +was the use of being strong? The strong prevailed, and the weak went +under. That was the law of life. To suppose that the weak must prevail +because it was weak was sheer sentimentality. All the same, those two +inconvenient words kept dinning in her ears: "_Noblesse oblige!_" + +She began to question the honesty which in Letty's presence had +convinced her. It was probably not honesty at all. She had known +girls in the Bleary Street Settlement who could persuade her that +black was white, but who had proved on further knowledge to be lying +all round the compass. When it wasn't lying it was bluff. It was +possible that Letty was only bluffing, that in her pretense at +magnanimity she was simply scheming for a bigger price. In that case +she, Barbara, had called the bluff very skilfully. She had put her in +a position in which she could be taken at her word. Since she was +ready to go, she could go. Since she was ready to go to the bad.... + +Miss Walbrook was not prim. She knew too much of the world to be +easily shocked, in the old conventional sense. Besides, her Bleary +Street work had brought her into contact with girls who had gone to +the bad, and she had not found them different from other girls. If she +hadn't known.... + +She could contemplate without horror, therefore, Letty's taking +desperate steps--if indeed she hadn't taken them long ago--and yet she +herself didn't want to be involved in the proceeding. It was one thing +to view an unfortunate situation from which you stood detached, and +another to be in a certain sense the cause of it. She would not really +be the cause of it, whatever the girl did, since she, the girl, was a +free agent, and of an age to know her own mind. Moreover, the secret +of the door was one which she couldn't help finding out in any case. +She, Miss Walbrook, could dismiss these scruples; and yet there was +that uncomfortable sing-song humming through her brain: "_Noblesse +oblige! Noblesse oblige!_" + +"I must get rid of it," she said to herself, as Wildgoose admitted +her. "I've got to be on the safe side. I can't have it on my mind." + +Going to the telephone before she had so much as taken off her gloves +she was answered by Steptoe. "This is Miss Walbrook again, Steptoe. I +should like to speak to--to the young woman." + +Steptoe who had found Letty crying after Miss Walbrook's departure +answered with resentful politeness. "I'll speak to Mrs. Allerton, +miss. She _may_ be aible to come to the telephone." + +"Ye-es?" came later, in a feeble, teary voice. + +"This is Miss Walbrook again. I'm sorry to trouble you the second +time." + +"Oh, that doesn't matter." + +"I merely wanted to say, what perhaps I should have said before I +left, that I hope you won't--won't _use_ the information I gave you as +I was leaving--at any rate not at once." + +"Do you mean the door?" + +"Exactly. I was afraid after I came away that you might do something +in a hurry----" + +"It'll have to be in a hurry if I do it at all." + +"Oh, I don't see that. In any case, I'd--I'd think it over. Perhaps we +could have another talk about it, and then----" + +Something was said which sounded like a faint, "Very well," so that +Barbara put up the receiver. + +Her conscience relieved she could open the dams keeping back the +fiercer tides of her anger. Rash had talked about her to this girl! He +had given her to understand that she was a fool! He had allowed it to +appear that "he didn't think much of her!" No matter what he had +said, the girl had been able to make these inferences. What was more, +these inferences might be true. Perhaps he _didn't_ think much of her! +Perhaps he only _thought_ he was in love with her! The idea was so +terrible that it stilled her, as approaching seismic storm will still +the elements. She moved about the drawing-room, taking off her gloves, +her veil, her hat, and laying them together on a table, as if she was +afraid to make a sound. She was standing beside that table, not +knowing what to do next, or where to go, when Wildgoose came to the +door to announce, "Mr. Allerton." + +"I've seen her." Without other form of greeting, or moving from beside +the table, she picked up her gloves, threw them down again, picked +them up again, threw them down again, with the nervous action of the +hands which betrayed suppressed excitement. "I didn't believe +her--quite." + +"But you didn't disbelieve her--wholly?" + +"It's a difficult case." + +"I've got you into an awful scrape, Barbe." + +She threw down the gloves with special vigor. "Oh, don't begin on +that. The scrape's there. What we have to find is the way out." + +"Well, do you see it any more clearly?" + +"Do you?" + +He came near to her. "I see this--that I can't let her throw herself +away for me. I've been thinking it over, and I want to ask your +opinion of this plan. Let's sit down." + +She thought his plan the maddest that was ever proposed, and yet she +accepted it. She accepted it because she was suspicious, jealous, and +unhappy. "It'll give me the chance to watch--and _see_," she said to +herself, as he talked. + +In his opinion Letty couldn't take their point of view because she was +so inexperienced. It seemed to her a simple thing to go away, leaving +them with the responsibilities of her future on their consciences; and +it would not seem other than a simple thing till she saw life more as +they did. To bring her to this degree of culture they must be subtle +with her, and patient. They mustn't rush things. They mustn't let her +rush them. To end the situation in such a way as to make for happiness +they must end it at a point where all would be best for all concerned. +For Barbara and himself nothing would be best which was not also best +for the girl. What would be best for the girl would be some degree of +education, of knowledge of the world, so that she might go back to the +life whence they had plucked her less likely to be a prey to the +vicious. In that case, if they supplied her with a little income she +would know what to do with it, and would perhaps marry some man in her +own class able to take care of her. + +Barbara's impulse was to cry out: "That's the most preposterous +suggestion I ever heard of in my life!" But she controlled this quite +reasonable prompting because another voice said to her: "This will +give you the opportunity to keep an eye on them. If he's not true in +his love for you--if there _is_ an infatuation on his part for this +common and vulgar creature--you'll be able to detect it." Jealousy +loving to suffer she was willing to inflict torture on herself for the +sake of catching him in disloyalty. + +Expecting a storm, and bringing out what he considered his wise +proposals with great embarrassment, Allerton was surprised and pleased +at the sympathetic calm in which she received them. + +"So that you'd suggest----?" + +"Our keeping her on a while longer, and making friends with her. I'd +like it tremendously if you'd be a friend to her, because you could do +more for her than anyone." + +"More than you?" + +"Oh, I'd do my bit too," he assured her, innocently. "I could put her +up to a lot of things, seeing her every day as I should. But you're +the one I should really count on." + +Because the words hurt her more than any she could utter; she said, +quietly: "I suppose you remember sometimes that after all she's your +wife." + +He sprang to his feet. Knowing that he did at times remember it he +tried to deny it. "No, I don't. She's not. I don't admit it. I don't +acknowledge it. If you care anything about me, Barbe, you'll never say +that again." + +He came and knelt beside her, taking her hands and kissing them. +Laying his head in her lap, he begged to be caressed, as if he had +been a dog. + +Nevertheless by half past nine that evening he was at home, sitting by +the fireside with Letty, and beginning his special part in the great +experiment. + +"She's not my wife," he kept repeating to himself poignantly, as +he walked up the Avenue from the Club; "she's not--she's _not_. But +she _is_ a poor child toward whom I've undertaken grave +responsibilities." + +Because the responsibilities were grave, and she was a poor child, his +attitude toward her began to be paternal. It was the more freely +paternal because Barbe approved of what he was undertaking. Had she +disapproved he might have undertaken it all the same, but he couldn't +have done it with this whole-heartedness. He would have been haunted +by the fear of her displeasure; whereas now he could let himself go. + +"We don't want to keep you a prisoner, or detain you against your +will," he said, with regard to the incident of the morning, "but if +you'll stay with us a little longer, I think we can convince you of +our good intentions." + +"Who's--we?" + +She shot the question at him, as she lay back in her chair, the red +book in her lap. He smiled inwardly at the ready pertinence with which +she went to a point he didn't care to discuss. + +"Well, then, suppose I said--I? That'll do, won't it?" + +She shot another question, her flaming eyes half veiled. "How long +would you want me to stay?" + +"Suppose we didn't fix a time? Suppose we just left it--like that?" + +The question rose to her lips: "But in the end I'm to go?" only, on +second thoughts she repressed it. She preferred that the situation +should be left "like that," since it meant that she was not at once to +be separated from the prince. The fact that she was legally the +prince's wife had as little reality to her as to him. Could she have +had what she yearned for law or no law would have been the same to +her. But since she couldn't have that, it was much that he should +come like this and sit with her by the fire in the evening. + +He leaned forward and took the book from her lap. "What are you +reading? Oh, this! I haven't looked at it for years." He glanced at +the title. "_The Little Mermaid!_ That used to be my favorite. It +still is. When I was in Copenhagen I went to see the little bronze +mermaid sitting on a rock on the shore. It's a memorial to Hans +Andersen. She's quite startling for a minute--till you know what it +is. Where are you at?" + +Pointing out the line at which she had stopped her hand touched his, +but all the consciousness of the accident was on her side. He seemed +to notice nothing, beginning to read aloud to her, with no suspicion +that sentiment existed. + +"Many an evening and morning she rose to the place where she had left +the prince. She watched the fruits in the garden ripen and fall; she +saw the snow melt from the high mountains; but the prince she never +saw, and she came home sadder than ever. Her one consolation was to +sit in her little garden, with her arms clasped round the marble +statue which was like the prince----" + +"That'd be me," Letty whispered to herself; "my arms clasped round a +marble statue--like my prince--but only a marble statue." + +"Her flowers were neglected," Allerton read on, "and grew wild in a +luxuriant tangle of stem and blossom, reaching the branches of the +willow-tree, and making the whole place dark and dim. At last she +could bear it no longer and she told one of her sisters----" + +"I wouldn't tell my sister, if I had one," Letty assured herself. "I'd +never tell no one. It's more like my own secret when I keep it to +myself. Nobody'll ever know--not even him." + +"The other sisters learned the story then, but they told it to no one +but a few other mermaids, who told it to their intimate friends. One +of these friends knew who the prince was, and told the princess where +he came from and where his kingdom lay. Now she knew where he lived; +and many a night she spent there, floating on the water. She ventured +nearer to the land than any of her sisters had done. She swam up the +narrow lagoon, under the carved marble balcony; and there she sat and +watched the prince when he thought himself alone in the moonlight. She +remembered how his head had rested on her breast, and how she had +kissed his brow; but he would never know, and could not even dream of +her." + +Letty had not kissed her prince's brow, but she had kissed his feet; +but he would never know that, and would dream of her no more than this +other prince of the little thing who loved him. + +Allerton continued to read on, partly because the old tale came back +to him with its enchanting loveliness, partly because reading aloud +would be a feature of his educational scheme, and partly because it +soothed him to be doing it. He could never read to Barbara. Once, when +he tried it, the sound of his voice and the monotony of his cadences, +so got on her nerves that she stopped him in the middle of a word. +But this girl with her uncritical mind, and her gratitude for small +bits of kindliness, gave him confidence in himself by her rapt way of +listening. + +She did listen raptly, since a prince's reading must always be more +arresting than that of ordinary mortals, and also because, both +consciously and subconsciously, she was taking his pronunciation as a +standard. + + * * * * * + +And just at this minute her name was under discussion in a brilliant +gathering at The Hindoo Lantern, in another quarter of New York. + +If you know The Hindoo Lantern you know how much it depends on +atmosphere. Once a disused warehouse in a section of the city which +commerce had forsaken, the enthusiasm for the dance which arose about +1910, has made it a temple. It gains, too, by being a temple of the +esoteric. The Hindoo Lantern is not everybody's lantern, and does not +swing in the open vulgar street. You might live in New York a hundred +years and unless you were one of the initiated and privileged, you +might never know of its existence. + +You could not so much as approach it were it not first explained to +you what you ought to do. You must pass through a tobacconist's, which +from the street looks like any other tobacconist's, after which you +traverse a yard, which looks like any other yard, except that it is +bounded by a wall in which there is a small and unobtrusive door. +Beside the small and unobtrusive door there hangs a bell-rope, of the +ancient kind suggesting the convent or the Orient. The bell-rope +pulls a bell; the bell clangs overhead; the door is opened cautiously +by a Hindoo lad, or, as some say, a mulatto boy dressed as a Hindoo. +If you are with a friend of the institution you will be admitted +without more inspection; but should you be a stranger there will be a +scrutiny of your passports. Assuming, however, that you go in, you +will find a small courtyard, in which at last The Hindoo Lantern hangs +mystic, suggestive, in oriental iron-work, and panels of colored +glass. + +Having passed beneath this symbol you will enter an antechamber rich +in the magic of the East. In a reverent obscurity you will find Buddha +on the right, Vishnu on the left, with flowers set before the one, +while incense burns before the other. Somewhere in the darkness an +Oriental woman will be seated on the ground, twanging on a sarabar, +and now and then crooning a chant of invitation to come and share in +darksome rites. You will thus be "worked up" to a sense of the +mysterious before you pass the third gate of privilege into the shrine +itself. + +Here you will discover the large empty oval of floor, surrounded by +little tables for segregation and refreshment, with which the past ten +years have made us familiar. The place will be buzzing with the hum of +voices, merry with duologues of laughter, and steaming with tobacco +smoke. A jazz-band will strike up, coughing out the nauseated, +retching intervals so stimulating to our feet, and two by two, in +driblets, streamlets, and lastly in a volume, the guests will take the +floor. + +In the way of "steps" all the latest will be on exhibition. You will +see the cow-trot, the rabbit-jump, the broom-stick, the washerwoman's +dip. Everyone who is anyone will be here, if not on one night then on +another, in a jovial fraternity steeped in the spirit of democracy. +Revelry will be sustained on lemonade and a resinous astringent known +locally as beer, while a sense of doing the forbidden will be in the +air. For commercial reasons it will be needful to keep it in the air, +since in the proceedings themselves there will be nothing more occult, +or more inciting to iniquity, than a kindergarten game. + +Hither Mr. Gorry Larrabin had brought Mademoiselle Odette Coucoul, to +teach her the new dances. As a matter of fact, he had just led her +back to their little table, inconspicuously placed in the front row, +after putting her through the paces of the camel-step. Mademoiselle +had found it entrancing, so much more novel in the motion than the +antiquated valses she had danced in France. Mr. Larrabin had retreated +like a camel walking backwards, while she had advanced like a camel +going forwards. The art was in lifting the foot quite high, throwing +it slightly backwards, and setting it down with a delicate +deliberation, while you craned the neck before you with a shake of the +Adam's apple. To incite you to produce this effect the jazz-band urged +you onward with a sob, a gulp, a moan, an effect of strangulation, +till finally it tore up the seat of your being as if you had been +suddenly struck sea-sick. + +"Mon Dieu, but it is lofely," mademoiselle gurgled, laughing in her +breathlessness. "It is terr-i-bul to call no one a camel--_un +chameau_--in France; but here am I a--_chameau_!" + +Gorry took this with puzzled amusement. "What's the matter with +calling anyone a camel? I don't see any harm in that." + +Mademoiselle hid her face in confusion. "Oh, but it is terr-i-bul, +terr-i-bul! It is almost so worse as to call no one a--how you say zat +word in Eenglish?--a cow, n'est ce pas?--_une vache_--and zat is the +most bad name what you can call no one." + +Looking across the room Gorry was struck with an idea. "Well, there's +a--what d'ye call it--_a vashe_--over there. See that guy with the +girl with the cream-colored hair--fella with a big black mustache, +like a brigand in a play? There's a _vashe_ all-righty; and yet I've +got to keep in with him." + +As he explained his reasons for keeping in with the "vashe" in +question mademoiselle contented herself with shedding radiance and +paying no attention. Neither did she pay attention when he went on to +tell of the girl who had disappeared, and of her stepfather's reasons +for finding her. She woke to cognizance of the subject only when Gorry +repeated the exact words of Miss Tina Vanzetti that morning: "Name of +Letty Gravely." + +It was mademoiselle's turn for repetition. "But me, I know dat name. I +'ear it not so long ago. Name of Let-ty Grav-el-ly! I sure 'ear zat +name all recently." She reflected, tapping her forehead with vivacity. +"Mais quand? Mais oui? C'était--Ah!" The exclamation was the sharp cry +of discovery. "Tina Vanzetti--my frien'! She tell me zis morning. Zat +girl--Let-ty Grav-el-ly--she come chez Margot with ole man--what he +keep ze white slave--and he command her grand beautiful +trousseau--Tina Vanzetti she will give me ze address--and I will tell +you--and you will tell him--and he will put you on to _riche +affairs_----" + +"It'll be dollars and cents in the box office for me," Gorry +interpreted, forcibly, while the band belched forth a chord like the +groan of a dying monster, calling them again to their feet. + + * * * * * + +"'Remember,' said the witch," Allerton continued to read, "'when you +have once assumed a human form you can never again be a mermaid--never +return to your home or to your sisters more. Should you fail to win +the prince's love, so that he leaves father and mother for your sake, +and lays his hand in yours before the priest, an immortal soul will +never be granted you. On the same day that he marries another your +heart will break, and you will drift as sea-foam on the water.' 'So +let it be,' said the little mermaid, turning pale as death.'" + +Allerton lifted his eyes from the book. "Does it bore you?" + +There was no mistaking her sincerity. "_No!_ I _love_ it." + +"Then perhaps we'll read a lot of things. After this we'll find a good +novel, and then possibly somebody's life. You'd like that, wouldn't +you?" + +Her joy was such that he could hardly hear the "Yes," for which he was +listening. He listened because he was so accustomed to boring people +that to know he was not boring them was a consolation. + +"Is there anybody's life--his biography--that you'd be specially +interested in?" + +She answered timidly and yet daringly. "Could we--could we read the +life of the late Queen Victoria--when she was a girl?" + +"Oh, easily! I'll hunt round for one to-day. Now let me tell you about +Hans Andersen. He was born in Denmark, so that he was a Dane. You know +where Denmark is on the map, don't you?" + +"I think I do. It's there by Germany isn't it?" + +"Quite right. But let me get the atlas, and we'll look it up." + +He was on his feet when she summoned her forces for a question. "Do +you read like this to--to the girl you're engaged to?" + +"No," he said, reddening. "She--she doesn't like it. She won't let me. +But wait a minute. I'll go and get the atlas." + +"'On the same day that he marries another,' Letty repeated to herself, +as she sat alone, 'your heart will break, and you will drift as +sea-foam on the water.' 'So let it be,' said the little mermaid." + + + + +Chapter XVIII + + +On the next afternoon Allerton reported to Miss Walbrook the success +of his first educational evening. + +"She's very intelligent, very. You'd really be pleased with her, +Barbe. Her mind is so starved that it absorbs everything you say to +her, as a dry soil will drink up rain." + +Regarding him with the mysterious Egyptian expression which had at +times suggested the reincarnation of some ancient spirit Barbara +maintained the stillness which had come upon her on the previous day. +"That must be very satisfactory to you, Rash." + +He agreed the more enthusiastically because of believing her at one +with him in this endeavor. "You bet! The whole thing is going to work +out. She'll pick up our point of view as if she was born to it." + +"And you're not afraid of her picking up anything else?" + +"Anything else of what kind?" + +"She might fall in love with you, mightn't she?" + +"With me? Nonsense! No one would fall in love with me who----" + +Her mysterious Egyptian smile came and went. "You can stop there, +Rash. It's no use being more uncomplimentary than you need to be. And +then, too, you might fall in love with her." + +"Barbe!" He cried out, as if wounded. "You're really too absurd. +She's a good little thing, and she's had the devil's own luck----" + +"They always do have. That was one thing I learnt in Bleary Street. It +was never a girl's own fault. It was always the devil's own luck." + +"Well, isn't it, now, when you come to think of it? You can't take +everything away from people, and expect them to have the same +standards as you and me. Think of the mess that people of our sort +make of things, even with every advantage." + +"We've our own temptations, of course." + +"And they've got theirs--without our pull in the way of carrying them +off. You should hear Steptoe----" + +"I don't want to hear Steptoe. I've heard him too much already." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"What can I mean by it but just what I say? I should think you'd get +rid of him." + +Having first looked puzzled, with a suggestion of pain, he ended with +a laugh. "You might as well expect me to get rid of an old +grandfather. Steptoe wouldn't let me, if I wanted to." + +"He doesn't like me." + +"Oh, that's just your imagination, Barbe. I'll answer for him when it +comes to----" + +"You needn't take the trouble to do that, because I don't like him." + +"Oh, but you will when you come to understand him." + +"Possibly; but I don't mean to come to understand him. Old servants +can be an awful nuisance, Rash----" + +"But Steptoe isn't exactly an old servant. He's more like----" + +"Oh, I know what he's like. He's a habit; and habits are always +dangerous, even when they're good. But we're not going to quarrel +about Steptoe yet. I just thought I'd put you on your guard----" + +"Against him?" + +"He's a horrid old schemer, if that's what you want me to say; but +then it may be what you like." + +"Well, I do," he laughed, "when it comes to him. He's been a horrid +old schemer as long as I remember him, but always for my good." + +"For your good as he sees it." + +"For my good as a kind old nurse might see it. He's limited, of +course; but then kind old nurses generally are." + +To be true to her vow of keeping the peace she forced back her +irritations, and smiled. "You're an awful goose, Rash; but then you're +a lovable goose, aren't you?" She beckoned, imperiously. "Come here." + +When he was on his knees beside her chair she pressed back his face +framed by her two hands. "Now tell me. Which do you love most--Steptoe +or me?" + +He cast about him for two of her special preferences. "And you tell +me; which do you love most, a saddle-horse or an opera?" + +"If I told you, which should I be?--the opera or the saddle-horse?" + +"If I told you, which would you give up?" + +So they talked foolishly, as lovers do in the chaffing stage, she +trying to charm him into promising to get rid of Steptoe, he charmed +by her willingness to charm him. Neither remembered that technically +he was a married man; but then neither had ever taken his marriage to +Letty as a serious breach in their relations. + + * * * * * + +While he was thus on his knees the kindly old nurse was giving to +Letty a kindly old nurse's advice. + +"If madam 'ud go out and tyke a walk I think it'd do madam good." + +To madam the suggestion had elements of mingled terror and attraction. +"But, Steptoe, I couldn't go out and take a walk unless I dressed up +in the new outdoor suit." + +"And what did madam buy it for?--with the 'at and the vyle, and +everythink, just like the lyte Mrs. Allerton." + +It was the argument she was hoping for. In the first place she was +used to the freedom of the streets; and in the second the outdoor suit +was calling her. Letty's love of dress was more than a love of +appearing at her best, though that love was part of it; it was a love +of the clothes themselves, of fabrics, colors, and fashions. When her +dreams were not of wandering knights who loved her at a +glance--bankers, millionaires, casting directors in motion-picture +studios, or, in high flights of imagination, incognito English +lords--they dealt in costumes of magic tissue, of hues suited to her +hair and eyes, in which the world saw and greeted her, not as the poor +little waif whom Judson Flack had put out of doors, but the true Letty +Gravely of romance. The Letty Gravely of romance was the real Letty +Gravely, a being set free from the cruel, the ugly, the carking, the +sordid, to flourish in a sunlight she knew to be shining somewhere. + +Oddly enough her vision had come partly true; and yet so out of focus +that she couldn't see its truth. It was like the sunlight which she +knew to be shining somewhere, with a wrong refraction in its rays. The +world into which she had been carried was like that in a cubist +picture which someone had shown her at the studio. It bore a relation +to the world she knew, but a relation in which whatever she had +supposed to be perpendicular was oblique, and whatever she had +supposed to be oblique was horizontal, and nothing as she had been +accustomed to find it. It made her head swim. It was literally true +that she was afraid to move lest she should make a misstep through an +error in her sense of planes. + +But clothes she understood. In the swirling of her universe they +formed a rock to which her intelligence could cling. They kept her +sane. In a sense they kept her happy. When all outside was confusion +and topsy-turvyness she could retire among Margot's cartons, and find +herself on solid ground. I should be sorry to record the hours she +spent before the long mirror in the little back spare room. Here her +imagination could give itself free range. She was Luciline Lynch, and +Mercola Merch, and Lisabel Anstey, and any other star of whom she +admired the attainments; she could play a whole series of parts from +which her lack of a wardrobe had hitherto excluded her. From time to +time she ventured, like Steptoe, to be Barbara Walbrook herself, +though assuming the role with less intrepidity than he. + +It was easier, she found, to be any of the stars than Barbara +Walbrook, for the reason that the latter was "the real thing." She was +living her part, not playing it. She was "letter perfect," in +Steptoe's sense, not because a director moved her person this way, or +turned her head that way, but because life had so infused her that she +did what was right unconsciously. Letty, by pretending to enter at the +door and come forward to the mirror as to a living presence, studied +what was right by imitation. Miss Walbrook walked with a swift, easy +gait which suggested the precision of certain strong birds when +swooping on their prey. Between the door and the mirror Letty aimed at +the same effect till she made a discovery. + +"I can't do it her way; I can only do it my way." + +The ways were different; yet each could be effective. That too was a +discovery. Nature had no rule to which every individual was obliged to +conform. The individual was, in a measure, his own rule, and got his +attractiveness from being so. The minute you abandoned your own gifts +to cultivate those with which Nature had blessed someone else you lost +not only your identity but your charm. + +Letty worked this out as something like a principle. However many the +hints she took it would be folly to try to be anything but herself. +After all, it was what gave her value to a star, her personality. If +Luciline Lynch whom Nature had endowed with the grand manner had tried +to be Mercola Merch who was all vivacious wickedness--well, anyone +could see! So, if Barbara Walbrook suggested an eagle on the wing and +she, Letty Gravely, was only a sparrow in the street, the sparrow +would be more successful as a sparrow than in trying to emulate the +eagle. + +And yet there was a value to good models which at first she found +difficult to reconcile with this truth of personal independence. This +too she thought out. "It's like a way to do your hair," was her method +of expressing it. "You do what's in fashion, but you twist it so that +it suits your own style. It isn't the fashion that makes you look +right; it's in being true to what suits you." + +There was, however, in Barbara Walbrook a something deeper than this +which at first eluded her. It was in Rashleigh Allerton too. It was in +Lisabel Anstey, and in a few other stars, but not in Mercola Merch, +nor in Luciline Lynch. "It's the whole business," Letty summed up to +herself, "and yet I don't know what it is. Unless I can put my finger +on it...." + +She was just at this point when Steptoe addressed her on the subject +of going out. That she do so was part of his programme. Madam would +not be madam till she felt herself free to come and go; and till madam +was madam Mr. Rash would not understand who it was they had in the +'ouse. That he didn't understand it yet was partly due to madam +'erself who didn't understand it on 'er side. To cultivate this +understanding in madam was Steptoe's immediate aim, in which Beppo, +the little cocker spaniel, unexpectedly came to his assistance. + +As the two stood conversing at the foot of the stairs Beppo lilted +down, with that air of having no one to love which he had worn during +all the eighteen months since his mistress had died. The cocker +spaniel's heart, as everyone knows, is imbued with the principle of +one life, one love. It has no room for two loves; it has still less +room for that general amiability to which most dogs are born. Among +the human race it singles out one; and to that one it is faithful. In +separation it seeks no substitute; in bereavement it rarely forms a +second tie. To everyone but Beppo the removal of Mrs. Allerton had +made the world brighter. He alone had mourned that presence with a +grief which sought neither comfort nor mitigation. He had followed his +routine; he had eaten and slept; he had gone out when he was taken out +and come in when he was brought in; but he had lived shut up within +himself, aloof in his sorrow. For the first time in all those eighteen +months he had come out of this proud gloom when Rashleigh's key had +turned in the door that night, and Letty had entered the house. + +The secret call which Beppo had heard can never be understood by men +till men have developed more of their latent faculties. As he lay in +his basket something reached him which he recognized as a summons to a +new phase of usefulness. Out of the lethargy of mourning he had jumped +with an obedient leap that took him through the obscurity of the house +to where a frightened girl had need of a little dog's sympathy. Of +that sympathy he had been lavish; and now that there was new +discussion in the air he came with his contribution. + +In words Steptoe had to be his interpreter. "That, poor little dog as +'as growed so fond of madam don't get 'alf the exercise he ought to be +give. If madam was to tyke 'im out like for a little stroll up the +Havenue...." + +Thus it happened that in less than half an hour Letty found herself +out in the October sunlight, dressed in her blue-green costume, with +all the details to "correspond," and leading Beppo on the leash. To +lead Beppo on the leash, as Steptoe had perceived, gave a reason for +an excursion which would otherwise have seemed motiveless. But she was +out. She was out in conditions in which even Judson Flack, had he met +her, could hardly have detected her. Gorgeously arrayed as she seemed +to herself she was dressed with the simplicity which stamps the French +taste. There was nothing to make her remarked, especially in a double +procession of women so many of whom were remarkable. Had you looked at +her twice you would have noted that while skill counted for much in +her gentle, well-bred appearance, a subtle, unobtrusive, native +distinction counted for most; but you would have been obliged to look +at her twice before noting anything about her. She was a neatly +dressed girl, with an air; but on that bright afternoon in Fifth +Avenue neatly dressed girls with an air were as buttercups in June. + +Seizing this fact Letty felt more at her ease. No one was thinking her +conspicuous. She was passing in the crowd. She was not being "spotted" +as the girl who a short time before had had nothing but the old gray +rag to appear in. She could enjoy the walk--and forget herself. + +Then it came to her suddenly that this was the secret of which she was +in search, the power to forget herself. She must learn to do things so +easily that she would have no self-consciousness in doing them. In big +things Barbara Walbrook might think of herself; but in all little +things, in the way she spoke and walked and bore herself toward +others, she acted as she breathed. It seemed wonderful to Letty, this +assurance that you were right in all the fundamentals. It was +precisely in the fundamentals that she was so likely to be wrong. It +was where girls of her sort suffered most; in the lack of the +elementary. One could bluff the advanced, or make a shot at it; but +the elementary couldn't be bluffed, and no shot at it would tell. It +betrayed you at once. You must _have_ it. You must have it as you had +the circulation of your blood, as something so basic that you didn't +need to consider it. That was her next discovery, as with Beppo +tugging at the end of his tether she walked onward. + +She was used to walking; she walked strongly, and with a trudging +sturdiness, not without its grace. She came to the part of Fifth +Avenue where the great houses begin to thin out, and vacant lots, as +if ashamed of their vacancy, shrink behind boardings vivid with the +news of picture-plays. It was the year when they were advertising the +screen-masterpiece, _Passion Aflame_; and here was depicted Luciline +Lynch, a torch in her hand, her hair in maenadic dishevelment, leading +on a mob to set fire to a town. Letty herself having been in that mob +paused in search of her face among the horde of the great star's +followers. It was a blob of scarlet and green from which she dropped +her eyes, only to have them encounter a friend of long standing. + +At the foot of the boarding, and all in a row, was a straggling band +of dust-flowers. It was late in the season, yet not too late for their +bit of blue heaven to press in among the ways of men. She was not +surprised to find them there. Ever since the crazy woman had pointed +out the mission of this humble little helper of the human race she had +noted its persistency in haunting the spots which beauty had deserted. +You found it in the fields, it was true; but you found it rarely, +sparsely, raggedly, blooming, you might say, with but little heart for +its bloom. Where other flowers had been frightened away; where the +poor crowded; where factories flared; where junk-heaps rusted; where +backyards baked; where smoke defiled; where wretchedness stalked; +where crime brooded; where the land was unkempt; where the human +spirit was sodden--there the celestial thing multiplied its celestial +growths, blessing the eyes and making the heart leap. It mattered +little that so few gave it a thought or regarded it as other than a +weed; there were always those few, who knew that it spelled beauty, +who knew that it spelled something more. + +Letty was of those few. She was of those few for old sake's sake, but +also for the sake of a new yearning. Slipping off a glove she picked a +few of the dusty stalks, even though she knew that once taken from +their task of glorifying the dishonored the blue stars would shut +almost instantly. "They'll wither in a few days now," she said, in +self-excuse; "and anyhow I'll leave most of them." Having shaken off +the dust she fastened them in her corsage, blue against her +blue-green. + +They were her symbol for happiness springing up in the face of +despair, and from a soil where you would expect it to be choked. She +herself was happy to-day as she could not remember ever to have been +happy in her life. For the first time she was passing among decent +people decently; and then--it was the great hope beyond which she +didn't look--the prince might read with her again that evening. + +But as she turned from Fifth Avenue into East Sixty-seventh Street the +prince was approaching his door from the other direction. Even she was +aware that it was contrary to his habits to appear at home by five in +the afternoon. She didn't know, of course, that Barbara had so +stimulated his enthusiasm for the educational course that he had come +on the chance of taking it up at the tea hour. He could not remember +that Barbara had ever before been so sympathetic to one of his ideas. +The fact encouraged his feeble belief in himself, and made him love +her with richer tenderness. + +In the gentle girl of quietly distinguished mien he saw nothing but a +stranger till Beppo strained at his leash and barked. Even then it +took him half a minute to get his powers of recognition into play. He +stopped at the foot of his steps, watching her approach. + +By doing so he made the approach more difficult for her. The heart +seemed to stop in her body. She could scarcely breathe. Each step was +like walking on blades, yet like walking on blades with a kind of +ecstasy. Luckily Beppo pranced and pulled in such a way that she was +forced to give him some attention. + +The prince's first words were also a distraction from terrors and +enchantments which made her feel faint. + +"Where did you get the poor man's coffee?" + +The question by puzzling her gave her some relief. Pointing at the +sprays in her corsage he went on: + +"That's what the country people often call the chicory weed in +France." + +She was able to gasp feebly: "Oh, does it grow there?" + +"I think it grows pretty nearly everywhere. It's one of the most +classic wild flowers we know anything about. The ancient Egyptians +dried its leaves to give flavor to their salad, and I remember being +told at Luxor that the modern Copts and Arabs do the same. You see +it's quite a friendly little beast to man." + +It eased her other feelings to tell him about the crazy woman in +Canada, and her reading of the dust-flower's significance. + +"That's a good idea too," Allerton agreed, smiling down into her eyes. +"There are people like that--little dust-flowers cheering up the +wayside for the rest of us poor brutes." + +She said, wistfully: "I suppose you've known a lot of them." + +[Illustration: THE PRINCE'S FIRST WORDS WERE ALSO A DISTRACTION FROM +TERRORS, AND ENCHANTMENTS WHICH MADE HER FEEL FAINT] + +As he laughed his eyes rested on a man sauntering toward them from the +direction of Fifth Avenue. "I've known about two--" his eyes came back +to smile again down into hers--"or _one_." He started as a man starts +who receives a new suggestion. "I say! Let's go in and look up chicory +and succory in the encyclopedia. Then we'll know all about it. It +seems to me, too," he went on, reminiscently, "that I read a little +poem about this very blue flower--by Margaret Deland, I think it +was--only a few weeks ago. I believe I could put my hand on it. Come +along." + +As he sprang up the steps the pearly gates were opening again before +Letty when the man whom Allerton had seen sauntering toward them +actually passed by. Passing he lifted his hat politely, smiled, and +said, "Good afternoon, Miss Gravely," like any other gentleman. He was +a good-looking slippery young man, with a cast in his left eye. + +Because she was a woman before she was a lady, as she understood the +word lady, Letty responded with, "Good afternoon," and a little +inclination of the head. He was several doors off before she bethought +herself sufficiently to take alarm. + +"Who's that?" Allerton demanded, looking down from the third or fourth +step. + +"I'm sure I haven't an idea. I think he must be some camera-man who's +seen me when they've been shooting the pitch--" she made the +correction almost in time--"who's seen me when they've been shooting +the _pick-tures_. I can't think of anything else." + +They watched the retreating form till, without a backward glance, it +turned into Madison Avenue. + +"Come along in," Allerton called then, in a tone intended to disperse +misgiving, "and let's begin." + +Ten minutes later he was reading in the library, from a big volume +open on his knees, how for over a century the chicory root had been +dried and ground in France, and used to strengthen the cheaper grades +of coffee, when Letty broke in, as if she had not been following him: + +"I don't think that fella could have been a camera-man after all. No +camera-man would ha' noticed me in the great big bunch I was always +in." + +"Oh, well, he can't do you any harm anyhow," Allerton assured her. +"I'll just finish this, and then I'll look for the poem by Mrs. +Deland." + +With her veil and gloves in her lap Letty sat thoughtful while he +passed from shelf to shelf in search of the smaller volume. Of her +real suspicion, that the man was a friend of Judson Flack's, she +decided not to speak. + +Seated once more in front of her, and bending slightly toward her, +Allerton read: + + "Oh, not in ladies' gardens, + My peasant posy! + Smile thy dear blue eyes, + Nor only--nearer to the skies-- + In upland pastures, dim and sweet-- + But by the dusty road + Where tired feet + Toil to and fro; + Where flaunting Sin + May see thy heavenly hue, + Or weary Sorrow look from thee + Toward a more tender blue." + +Allerton glanced up from the book. "Pretty, isn't it?" + +She admitted that it was, and then added: "And yet there was the times +when the castin' director put me right in the front, to register what +the crowd behind me was thinkin' about. He might ha' noticed me +then." + +"Yes, of course; that must have been it. Now wouldn't you like me to +read that again? You must always read a poem a second or third time to +really know what it's about." + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile a poem of another sort was being read to Miss Barbara +Walbrook by her aunt, who had entered the drawing-room within five +minutes after Allerton had left it. During those five minutes Barbara +had remained seated, plunged into reverie. The problem with which she +had to deal was the degree to which she was right or wrong in +permitting Rashleigh to go on in his crazy course. That this outcast +girl was twining herself round his heart was a fact growing too +obtrusive to be ignored. Had Rashleigh been as other men decisive +action would have been imperative. But he was not as other men, and +there lay the possibilities she found difficult. + +If the aunt couldn't help the niece to solve the difficult question +she at least could compel her to take a stand. + +As she entered the drawing-room she came from out of doors, a slender, +unfleshly figure, all intellect and idea. Her vices being wholly of +the spirit were not recognized as vices, so that she passed as the +highest type of the good woman which the continent of America knows +anything about. Being the highest type of the good woman she had, +moreover, the privilege which American usage accords to all good women +of being good aggressively. No other good woman in the world enjoys +this right to the same degree, a fact to which we can point with +pride. The good English woman, the good French woman, the good Italian +woman, are obliged by the customs of their countries to direct their +goodness into channels in which it is relatively curbed. The good +American woman, on the other hand, is never so much at home as when +she is on the warpath. Her goodness being the only standard of +goodness which the country accepts she has the right to impose it by +any means she can harness to her purposes. She is the inspiration of +our churches, and the terror of our constituencies. She is behind +state legislatures and federal congresses and presidential cabinets. +They may elude her lofty purposes, falsify her trust, and for a time +hoodwink her with male chicaneries; but they are always afraid of her, +and in the end they do as she commands. Among the coarsely, stupidly, +viciously masculine countries of the world the American Republic is +the single and conspicuous matriarchate, ruled by its good women. Of +these rulers Miss Marion Walbrook was as representative a type as +could be found, high, pure, zealous, intolerant of men's weaknesses, +and with only spiritual immoralities of her own. + +Seated in one of her slender upright armchairs she had the +impressiveness of goodness fully conscious of itself. A document she +held in her hand gave her the judicial air of one entitled to pass +sentence. + +"I'm sorry, Barbara; but I've some disagreeable news for you." + +Barbara woke. "Indeed?" + +"I've just come from Augusta Chancellor's. She talked about--that +man." + +"What did she say?" + +"She said two or three things. One was that she'd met him one day in +the Park when he decidedly wasn't himself." + +"Oh, it's hard to say when he's himself and when he isn't. He's what +the French would call _un original_." + +"Oh, I don't know about that. The originality of men is commonplace as +it's most novel. This man is on a par with the rest, if you call it +original for him to have a woman in the house." + +Barbara feigned languidness. "Well, it is--the way he has her there." + +"The way he has her there? What do you mean by that?" + +"I mean what I say. There's no one else in the world who would take a +girl under his roof in the way Rash has taken this girl." + +"How, may I ask, did he take her?" + +Having foreseen that one day she should be in this position Barbara +had made up her mind as to how much she should say. "He found her." + +"Oh, they all do that. They generally find them in the Park." + +"Exactly; it's just what he did." + +"I guessed--it was only guessing mind you--that he also tried to find +Augusta Chancellor." + +"Oh, possibly. He'd go as far as that, if he saw her doing anything he +thought not respectable." + +"Barbara, please! You're talking about a friend of mine, one of my +colleagues. Let's return to--I hope you won't find the French phrase +invidious--to our mutton." + +"Oh, very well! Rash found the girl homeless--penniless--with no +friends. Her stepfather had turned her out. Another man would have +left her there, or turned her over to the police. Rash took her to his +own house, and since then we've both been helping her to--to get on +her feet." + +"Helping her to get on her feet in a way that's driven from the house +the good old women who've been there for nearly thirty years." + +"Oh, you know that too, do you?" + +"Why, certainly. Jane, that was the parlor maid, is very intimate with +Augusta Chancellor's cook; and she says--Jane does--that he's actually +married the creature." + +Barbara shrugged her shoulders. "I can't help what the servants say, +Aunt Marion. I'm trying to be a friend to the girl, and help her to +pull herself together. Of course I recognize the fact that Rash has +been foolish--quixotic--or whatever you like to call it; but he hasn't +kept anything from me." + +"And you're still engaged to him?" + +"Of course I'm still engaged to him." She held out her left hand. +"Look at his ring." + +"Then why don't you get married?" + +"Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?" + +The question being a pleasantry Miss Walbrook took it with a gentle +smile. When she resumed it was with a slight flourish of the document +in her hand and another turn to the conversation. + +"I went to the bank this morning. I've brought home my will. I'm +thinking of making some changes in it." + +Barbara looked non-committal, as if the subject had nothing to do with +herself. + +"The question I have to decide," Miss Walbrook pursued, "is whether to +leave everything to you, in the hope that you'll carry on my +work----" + +"I shouldn't know how." + +"Or whether to establish a trust----" + +"I should do that decidedly." + +"And let it fall into the hands of a pack of men." + +"It will fall into the hands of a pack of men, whatever you do with +it." + +"And yet if you had it in charge----" + +"Some man would get hold of it, Aunt Marion." + +"Which is what I'm debating. I'm not so very sure----" + +"That I shall marry in the end?" + +"Well, you're not married yet ... and if you were to change your +mind ... the world has such a need of consecrated women with men +so unscrupulous and irresponsible ... we must break their power +some day ... and now that we've got the opportunity ... all I want +you to understand is that if you shouldn't marry there'd be a +great career in store for you...." + + + + +Chapter XIX + + +By the end of twenty-four hours the possibility of this great career +quickened Barbara's zeal for taking a hand in Letty's education. Not +only did that impulse of furious jealousy, by which she meant at first +to leave it wholly to Rash, begin to seem dangerous, but there was a +world to consider and throw off the scent. Now that Augusta Chancellor +knew that the girl was beneath Rash's roof all their acquaintances +would sooner or later be in possession of the fact. It was Barbara's +part, therefore, to play the game in such a way that a bit of +quixotism would be the most foolish thing of which Rash would be +suspected. + +That she would be playing a game she knew in advance. She must hide +her suspicions; she must control her sufferings. She must pretend to +have confidence in Rash, when at heart she cried against him as an +infant and a fool. Never was woman in such a ridiculous situation as +that into which she had been thrust; never was heart so wild to ease +itself by invective and denunciation; and never was the padlock fixed +so firmly on the lips. Hour by hour the man she loved was being weaned +and won away from her; and she must stand by with grimacing smiles, +instead of throwing up her arms in dramatic gestures and calling on +her gods to smite and smash and annihilate. + +Since, however, she had a game to play, a game she would play, though +she did it quivering with protest and repulsion. + +"Do you mind if I take the car this afternoon, Aunt Marion, since +you're not going to use it." + +"Take it of course; but where are you going?" + +"I thought I would ask that protégée of Rash Allerton's, of whom we +were speaking yesterday, to come for a drive with me. But if you'd +rather I didn't----" + +"I've nothing to do with it. It's entirely for you to say. The car is +yours, of course." + +The invitation being transmitted by telephone Steptoe urged Letty to +accept it. "It'll be all in the wye of madam's gettin' used to +things--a bit at a time like." + +"But I don't think she likes me." + +"If madam won't stop to think whether people likes 'er or not I think +madam 'd get for'arder. Besides madam'll pretty generally always find +as love-call wykes love-echo, as the syin' goes." + +Which, as a matter of fact, was what Letty did find. She found it from +the minute of entering the car and taking her seat, when Miss Walbrook +exclaimed heartily: "What a lovely dress! And the hat's too sweet! +Suits you exactly, doesn't it? My dear, I've the greatest bother ever +to find a hat that doesn't make me look like a scarecrow." + +From the naturalness of the tone there was no suspecting the cost of +these words to the speaker, and the subject was one in which Letty was +at home. In turn she could compliment Miss Walbrook's appearance, duly +admiring the toque of prune-colored velvet, with a little bunch of +roses artfully disposed, and the coat of prune-colored Harris tweed. +In further discussing the length of the new skirts and the chances of +the tight corset coming back they found topics of common interest. The +fact that they were the topics which came readiest to the lips of both +made it possible to maintain the conversation at its normal +give-and-take, while each could pursue the line of her own summing up +of the other. + +To Letty Miss Walbrook seemed friendlier than she had expected, only +spasmodically so. Her kindly moods came in spurts of which the +inspiration soon gave out. "I think she's sad," was Letty's comment to +herself. Sadness, in Letty's use of words, covered all the emotions +not distinctly cheerful or hilarious. + +She knew nothing about Miss Walbrook, except that it appeared from +this conversation that she lived with an aunt, whose car they were +using. That she was a friend of the prince's had been several times +repeated, but all information ended there. To Letty she seemed +old--between thirty and forty. Had she known her actual age she would +still have seemed old from her knowledge of the world and general +sophistication. Letty's own lack of sophistication kept her a child +when she was nearly twenty-three. That Miss Walbrook was the girl to +whom the prince was engaged had not yet crossed her thought. + +At the same time, since she knew that girl she brought her to the +forefront of Letty's consciousness. She was never far from the +forefront of her consciousness, and of late speculation concerning her +had become more active. If she approached the subject with the prince +he reddened and grew ill at ease. The present seemed, therefore, an +opportunity to be utilized. + +They were deep in the northerly avenues of the Park, when apropos of +the dress topic, Letty said, suddenly: "I suppose she's awfully +stylish--the girl he's engaged to." + +The response was laconic: "She's said to be." + +"Is she pretty?" + +"I don't think you could say that." + +"Then what does he see in her?" + +"Whatever people do see in those they're in love with. I'm afraid I'm +not able to define it." + +Dropping back into her corner Letty sighed. She knew this mystery +existed, the mystery of falling in love for reasons no one was able to +explain. It was the ground on which she hoped that at first sight +someone would fall in love with her. If he didn't do it for reasons +beyond explanation he would, of course, not do it at all. + +It was some minutes before another question trembled to her lips. +"Does she--does she know about me?" + +"Oh, naturally." + +"And did she--did she feel very bad?" + +Barbara's long eyes slid round in Letty's direction, though the head +was not turned. "How should you feel yourself, if it had happened to +you?" + +"It'd kill me." + +"Well, then?" She let Letty draw her own conclusions before adding: +"It's nearly killed her." + +Letty cowered. She had never thought of this. That she herself +suffered she knew; that the prince suffered she also knew; but that +this unknown girl, whatever her folly, lay smitten to the heart +brought a new complication into her ideas. "Even if he ever did come +to--" she held up her unspoken sentence there--"I'd ha' stolen him +from her." + +There was little more conversation after that. Each had her motives +for reflections and silences. They were nearing the end of the drive +when Letty said again: + +"What would you do if you was--if you were--me?" + +"I'd do whatever I felt to be highest." + +To Letty this was a beautiful reply, and proof of a beautiful nature. +Moreover, it was indirectly a compliment to herself, in that she could +be credited with doing what she felt to be highest as well as anyone +else. In her life hitherto she had been figuratively kicked and beaten +into doing what she couldn't resist. Now she was considered capable of +acting worthily of her own accord. It inspired a new sentiment toward +Miss Walbrook. + +She thought, too, that Miss Walbrook liked her a little better. +Perhaps it was the fulfillment of Steptoe's adage, love-call wakes +love-echo. She was sure that somehow this call had gone out from her +to Miss Walbrook, and that it hadn't gone out in vain. + +It hadn't gone out in vain, in that Miss Walbrook was able to say to +herself, with some conviction, "That's the way it will have to be +done." It was a way of which her experiences in Bleary Street had made +her skeptical. Among those whom she called the lower orders innocence, +ingenuousness, and integrity were qualities for which she had ceased +to look. She didn't look for them anywhere with much confidence; but +she had long ago come to the conclusion that the poor were schemers, +and were obliged to be schemers because they were poor. Something in +Letty impressed her otherwise. "That's the way," she continued to nod +to herself. "It's no use trusting to Rash. I'll get her; and she'll +get him; and so we shall work it." + +Arrived in East Sixty-seventh Street she went in with Letty and had +tea. But it was she who sat in dear Mrs. Allerton's corner of the +sofa, and when William brought in the tray she said, "Put it here, +William," as one who speaks with authority. Of this usurpation of the +right to dispense hospitality Letty did not see the significance, +being glad to have it taken off her hands. + +Not so, however, with Steptoe who came in with a covered dish of +muffins. Having placed it before Miss Walbrook he turned to Letty. + +"Madam ain't feelin' well?" + +Letty's tone expressed her surprise. "Why, yes." + +"Madam'll excuse me. As madam ain't presidin' at 'er own tyble I was +afryde----" + +It being unnecessary to say more he tiptoed out, leaving behind him a +declaration of war, which Miss Walbrook, without saying anything in +words, was not slow to pick up. "Insufferable," was her comment to +herself. Of the hostile forces against her this, she knew, was the +most powerful. + +Neither did Rash perceive the significance of Barbara's place at the +tea-table when he entered about five o'clock, though she was quick to +perceive the significance of his arrival. It was not, however, a +point to note outwardly, so that she lifted her hand above the +tea-kettle, letting him bend over it, as she exclaimed: + +"Welcome to our city! Do sit down and make yourself at home. Letty and +I have been for a drive, and are all ready to enjoy a little male +society." + +The easy tone helped Allerton over his embarrassment, first in finding +the two women face to face, then in coming so unexpectedly face to +face with them, and lastly in being caught by Barbara coming home at +this unexpected hour. Knowing what the situation must mean to her he +admired her the more for her sangfroid and social flexibility. + +She took all the difficulties on herself. "Letty and I have been +making friends, and are going to know each other awfully well, aren't +we?" A smile at Letty drew forth Letty's smile, to Rashleigh's +satisfaction, and somewhat to his bewilderment. But Barbara, handing +him a cup of tea, addressed him directly. "Who do you think is +engaged? Guess." + +He guessed, and guessed wrong. He guessed a second time, and guessed +wrong. There followed a conversation about people they knew, with +regard to which Letty was altogether an outsider. Now and then she +recognized great names which she had read in the papers, tossed back +and forth without prefixes of Mr. or Miss, and often with pet +diminutives. The whole represented a closed corporation of intimacies +into which she could no more force her way than a worm into a billiard +ball. Rash who was at first beguiled by the interchange of +personalities began to experience a sense of discomfort that Letty +should be so discourteously left out; but Barbara knew that it was +best for both to force the lesson home. Rash must be given to +understand how lost he would be with any outsider as his companion; +and Letty must be made to realize how hopelessly an outsider she would +always be. + +But no lesson should be urged to the quick at a single sitting, so +that Barbara broke off suddenly to ask why he had come home. In the +same way as she had given the order to William she spoke with the +authority of one at liberty to ask the question. Not to give the real +reason he said that it was to write a letter and change his clothes. + +"And you're going back to the Club?" + +He replied that he was going to dine with a bachelor friend at his +apartment. + +"Then I'll wait and drop you at the Club. You can go on from there +afterwards. I've got the time." + +This too was said with an authority against which he felt himself +unable to appeal. + +Having written a note and changed to his dinner jacket he rejoined +them in the drawing-room. Barbara held out her hand to Letty, with a +briskness indicating relief. + +"So glad we had our drive. I shall come soon again. I wish it could be +to-morrow, but my aunt will be using the car." + +"There's my car," Allerton suggested. + +"Oh, so there is." Barbara took this proposal as a matter of course. +"Then we'll say to-morrow. I'll call up Eugene and tell him when to +come for me." + +With Allerton beside her, and driving down Fifth Avenue, she said: "I +see how to do it, Rash. You must leave it to me." + +He replied in the tone of a child threatened with the loss of his rôle +in a game. "I can't leave it to you altogether." + +"Then leave it to me as much as you can. I see what to do and you +don't. Furthermore, I know just how to do it." + +"You're wonderful, Barbe," he said, humbly. + +"I'm wonderful so long as you don't interfere with me." + +"Oh, well, I shan't do that." + +She turned to him sharply. "Is that a promise?" + +"Why do you want a promise?" he asked, in some wonder. + +"Because I do." + +"That is, you can't trust me." + +"My dear Rash, who _could_ trust you after what----?" + +"Oh, well, then, I promise." + +"Then that's understood. And if anything happens, you won't go hedging +and saying you didn't mean it in that way?" + +"It seems to me you're very suspicious." + +"One's obliged to foresee everything with you, Rash. It isn't as if +one was dealing with an ordinary man." + +"You mean that I'm to give you carte blanche, and have no will of my +own at all." + +"I mean that when I'm so reasonable, you must try to be reasonable on +your side." + +"Well, I will." + +As they drew up in front of the New Netherlands Club, he escaped +without committing himself further. + +If he dined with a bachelor friend that night he must have cut the +evening short, for at half past nine he re-entered the back +drawing-room where Letty was sitting before the fire, her red book in +her lap. She sat as a lover stands at a tryst as to which there is no +positive engagement. To fortify herself against disappointment she had +been trying to persuade herself that he wouldn't come, and that she +didn't expect him. + +He came, but he came as a man who has something on his mind. Almost +without greeting he sat down, took the book from her lap and proceeded +to look up the place at which he had left off. + +"Miss Walbrook's lovely, isn't she?" she said, before he had found the +page. + +"She's a very fine woman," he assented. "Do you remember where we +stopped?" + +"It was at, 'So let it be, said the little mermaid, turning pale as +death.' You know her very well, don't you?" + +"Oh, very well indeed. I think we begin here: 'But you will have to +pay me also----'" + +"Have you known her very long?" + +"All my life, more or less." + +"She says she knows the girl you're engaged to." + +"Yes, of course. We all know each other in our little set. Now, if +you're ready, I'll begin to read." + +"'But you will have to pay me also,' said the witch; 'and it is not a +little that I ask. Yours is the loveliest voice in the world, and you +trust to that, I dare say, to charm your love. But you must give it +to me. For my costly drink I claim the best thing you possess. I shall +give you my own blood, so that my draught may be as sharp as a +two-edged sword.' 'But if you take my voice from me, what have I +left?' asked the little mermaid, piteously. 'Your loveliness, your +graceful movements, your speaking eyes. Those are enough to win a +man's heart. Well, is your courage gone? Stretch out your little +tongue, that I may cut it off, and you shall have my magic potion.' 'I +consent,' said the little mermaid." + +Letty cried out: "So that when she'd be with him she'd understand +everything, and not be able to tell him anything." + +"I'm afraid," he smiled, "that that's what's ahead of her, poor +thing." + +"Oh, but that--" she could hardly utter her distress--"Oh, but that's +worse than anything in the world." + +He looked up at her curiously. "Would you rather I didn't go on?" + +"No, no; please. I--I want to hear it all." + + * * * * * + +At The Hindoo Lantern Mr. Gorry Larrabin and Mr. Judson Flack found +themselves elbow to elbow outside the rooms where their respective +ladies were putting the final touches to their hats and hair before +entering the grand circle. It was an opportunity especially on Gorry's +part, to seal the peace which had been signed so recently. + +"Hello, Judson. What's the prospects in oil?" Judson's tone was +pessimistic. "Not a thing doin', Gorry. Awful slow bunch, that lump +of nuts I'm in with on this. Mentioned your name to one or two of 'em; +but no enterprise. Boneheads that wouldn't know a white man from a +crane." That he understood what Gorry understood became clear as he +continued: "Friend o' mine at the Excelsior passes me the tip that +they've held up that play they were goin' to put my girl into. Can't +get anyone else that would swing the part. Waitin' for her to turn up +again. I suppose you haven't heard anything, Gorry?" + +Gorry looked him in the eyes as straight as was possible for a man +with a cast in the left one. "Not a thing, Judson; not a thing." + +The accent was so truthful that Judson gave his friend a long +comprehending look. He was sure that Gorry would never speak with such +sincerity if he was sincere. + +"Well, I'm on the job, Gorry," he assured him, "and one of these days +you'll hear from me." + +"I'm on the job too, Judson; and one of these days----" + +But as Mademoiselle Coucoul emerged from the dressing-room and shed +radiance, Gorry was obliged to go forward. + + + + +Chapter XX + + +It was May. + +In spite of her conviction that she knew what to do and how it to do +it, Barbara perceived that at the end of seven months they were much +where they had been in the previous October. If there was a change it +was that all three, Rashleigh, Letty, and herself, had grown strained +and intense. + +Outwardly they strove to maintain a semblance of friendship. For that +Barbara had worked hard, and in a measure had succeeded. She had held +Rash; she had won Letty. + +She had more than won Letty; she had trained her. All that in seven +months a woman of the world could do for an unformed and ignorant +child she had done. Her experience at Bleary Street had helped her in +this; and Letty had been quick. She had seized not only those small +points of speech and action foundational to rising in the world, but +the point of view of those who had risen. She knew how, Barbara was +sure, that there were certain things impossible to people such as +those among whom she had been thrown. + +Since it was May it was the end of a season, and the minute Barbara +had long ago chosen for a masterstroke. Each of the others felt the +crisis as near as she did herself. + +"It's got to end," Letty confessed to her, as amid the soft +loveliness of springtime, they were again driving in the Park. + +Barbara chose her words. "I suppose he feels that too." + +"Then why don't he let me end it?" + +"I fancy that that's a difficult position for a man. If you ask his +permission beforehand he feels obliged to say----" + +"And perhaps," Letty suggested, "he's too tender-hearted." + +"That's part of it. He _is_ tender-hearted. Besides that, his position +is grotesque--a man with whom two women are in love. To one of them +he's been nominally married, while to the other he's bound by every +tie of honor. No wonder he doesn't see his way. If he moves toward the +one he hurts the other--a man to whom it's agony to hurt a fly." + +"Does the other girl still feel the way she did?" + +"She's killing herself. She's breaking her heart. Nobody knows it but +him and her--and even he doesn't take it in. But she is." + +"I suppose she thinks I'm something awful." + +"Does it matter to you what she thinks?" + +"I don't want her to hate me." + +"Oh, I shouldn't say she did that. She feels that, considering +everything, you might have acted with more decision." + +"But he won't let me." + +"And he never will, if you wait for that." + +"Then what do you think I ought to do?" + +"That's where I find you weak, Letty, since you ask me the question. +No one can tell you what to do--and he least of all. It's a situation +in which one of you must withdraw--either you or the other girl. But, +don't you see? he can't say so to either." + +"And if one of us must withdraw you think it should be me." + +"I have to leave that to you. You're the one who butted in. I know it +wasn't your fault--that the fault was his entirely; but we recognize +the fact that he's--how shall I put it?--not quite responsible. We +women have to take the burden of the thing on ourselves, if it's ever +to be put right." + +In her corner of the car Letty thought this over. The impression on +her mind was the deeper since, for several months past, she had +watched the prince growing more and more unhappy. He was less nervous +than he used to be, less excitable; and for that he had told her the +credit was due to herself. "You soothe me," he had once said to her, +in words she would always treasure; and yet as his irritability +decreased his unhappiness seemed to grow. She could only infer that he +was mourning over the girl to whom he was engaged, and on whom he had +inflicted a great wrong. For the last few weeks Letty's mind had +occupied itself with her almost more than with the prince himself. + +"Do you think I shall ever see her?" she asked, suddenly now. + +Barbara reflected. "I think you could if you wanted to." + +"Should you arrange it?" + +"I could." + +"You're sure she'd be willing to see me?" + +"Yes; I know she would." + +"When could you do it?" + +"Whenever you like." + +"Soon?" + +"Yes; sooner perhaps than--" Barbara spoke absently, as if a new idea +was taking possession of her mind--"sooner perhaps than you think." + +"And you say she's breaking her heart?" + +"A little more, and it will be broken." + +By the time Letty had been set down at the door in East Sixty-seventh +Street the afternoon had grown chilly. In the back drawing-room +Steptoe was on his knees lighting the fire. Letty came and stood +behind him. Without preliminary of any kind she said, quietly: + +"Steptoe, it's got to end." + +Expecting a protest she was surprised that he should merely blow on +the shivering flame, saying, in the interval between two long breaths: +"I agrees with madam." + +"And it's me that must end it." + +He blew gently again. "I guess that'd be so too." + +She thought of the little mermaid leaping into the sea, and trembling +away into foam. "If he wants to marry the girl he's in love with he'll +never do it the way we're living now." + +He rose from his knees, dusting one hand against the other. "Madam's +quite right. 'E won't--not never." + +She threw out her arms, and moaned. "And, O Steptoe! I'm so tired of +it." + +"Madam's tired of----?" + +"Of living here, and doing nothing, and just watching and waiting, and +nothing never happening----" + +"Does madam remember that, the dye when she first come I said there +was two reasons why I wanted to myke 'er into a lydy?" + +Letty nodded. + +"The one I told 'er was that I wanted to 'elp someone who was like +what I used to be myself." + +"I remember." + +"And the other, what I didn't tell madam, I'll tell 'er now. It +was--it was I was 'opin' that a woman'd come into my poor boy's life +as'd comfort 'im like----" + +"And she didn't come." + +"'E ain't seen that she's come. I said it'd be a tough job to bring +'im to fallin' in love with 'er like; but it's been tougher than what +I thought it'd be." + +"So that I must--must do something." + +"Looks as if madam'd 'ave to." + +"I suppose you know that there's an easy way for me to do it?" + +"Nothink ain't so very easy; but if madam 'as a big enough +reason----" + +She felt the necessity of being plain. "I suppose that if he hadn't +picked me up in the Park that day I'd have gone to the bad anyhow." + +"If madam's thinkin' about goin' to the bad----" + +She threw up her head defiantly. "Well, I am. What of it?" + +"I was just thinkin' as I might 'elp 'er a bit about that." + +She was puzzled. "I don't think you know what I said. I said I +was----" + +"Goin' to the bad, madam. That's what I understood. But madam won't +find it so easy, not 'avin 'ad no experience like, as you might sye." + +"I didn't know you needed experience--for that." + +"All good people thinks that wye, madam; but when you tackle it +deliberate like, there's quite a trick to it." + +"And do you know the trick?" was all she could think of saying. + +"I may not know the very hidentical trick madam'd be in want of--'er +bein' a lydy, as you might sye--but I could put 'er in the wye of +findin' out." + +"You don't think I could find out for myself?" + +"You see, it's like this. I used to know a young man what everythink +went ag'in' 'im. And one dye 'e started out for to be a forgerer +like--so as 'e'd be put in jyle--and be took care of--board and +lodgin' free--and all that. Well, out 'e starts, and not knowin' the +little ins and outs, as you might sye, everythink went agin 'im, just +as it done before. And, would madam believe it? that young man 'e +hended by studying for the ministry. Madam wouldn't want to myke a +mistyke like that, now would she?" + +Letty turned this over in her mind. A career parallel to that of this +young man would effect none of the results she was aiming at. + +"Then what would you suggest?" she asked, at last. + +"I could give madam the address of a lydy--an awful wicked lydy, she +is--what'd put madam up to all the ropes. If madam was to go out into +the cold world, like, this lydy'd give 'er a home. Besides the +address I'd give madam a sign like--so as the lydy'd know it was +somethink special." + +"A sign? I don't know what you mean." + +"It'd be this, madam." He drew from his pocket a small silver thimble. +"This'd be a password to the lydy. The minute she'd see it she'd know +that the time 'ad come." + +"What time?" + +"That's somethink madam'd find out. I couldn't explyne it +before'and." + +"It sounds very queer." + +"It'd _be_ very queer. Goin' to the bad is always queer. Madam +wouldn't look for it to be like 'avin' a gentleman lead 'er in to +dinner." + +"What's she like--the lady?" + +"That's somethink madam'd 'ave to wyte and see. She wouldn't _seem_ so +wicked, not at first sight, as you might sye. But time'd tell. If +madam'd be pytient--well, I wouldn't like to sye." He eyed the fire. +"I think that fire'll burn now, madam; and if it don't, madam'll only +'ave to ring." + +He was at the door when Letty, feeling the end of all things to be at +hand, ran after him, laying her fingers on his sleeve. + +"Oh, Steptoe; you've been so good to me!" + +He relaxed from his dignity sufficiently to let his hand rest on hers, +which he patted gently. "I've been madam's servant--and my boy's." + +"I shall never think of you as a servant--never." + +The frosty color rose into his cheeks. "Then madam'll do me a great +wrong." + +"To me you're so much higher than a servant----" + +"Madam'll find that there ain't nothink 'igher than a servant. There's +a lot about service in the pypers nowadyes, crackin' it up, like; but +nobody don't seem to remember that servants knows more about that than +what other people do, and servants don't remember it theirselves. So +long as I can serve madam, just as I've served my boy----" + +"Oh, but, Steptoe, I shall have gone to the bad." + +"That'd be all the syme to me, madam. At my time o' life I don't see +no difference between them as 'as gone to the bad and them as 'as gone +to the good, as you might sye. I only sees--people." + +Left alone Letty went back to the fire, and stood gazing down at it, +her foot on the fender. So it was the end. Even Steptoe said so. In a +sense she was relieved. + +She was relieved at the prospect of being freed from her daily +torture. The little mermaid walking on blades in the palace of the +prince, and forever dumb, had known bliss, but bliss so akin to +anguish that her heart was consumed by it. The very fact that the +prince himself suffered from the indefinable misery which her presence +seemed to bring made escape the more enticing. + +She was so buried in this reflection as to have heard no sound in the +house, when Steptoe announced in his stately voice: "Miss Barbara +Walbrook." Having parted from this lady half an hour earlier Letty +turned in some surprise. + +"I've come back again," was the explanation, sent down the long room. +"Don't let William bring in tea," the imperious voice commanded +Steptoe. "We wish to be alone." There was the same abruptness as she +halted within two or three feet of where Letty stood, supporting +herself with a hand on the edge of the mantelpiece. "I've come back to +tell you something. I made up my mind to it all at once--after I left +you a few minutes ago. Now that I've done it I feel easier." + +Letty didn't know which was uppermost in her mind, curiosity or fear. +"What--what is it?" she asked, trembling. + +"I've given up the fight. I'm out of it." + +Letty crept forward. "You've--you've done _what_?" + +"I told you in the Park that one or the other of us would have to +withdraw----" + +"One or the other of--of _us_?" + +"Exactly and I've done it." + +With horror in her face and eyes Letty crept nearer still. "But--but I +don't understand." + +"Oh, yes, you do. How can you help understanding. You must have seen +all along that----" + +"Not that--that you were--the other girl. Oh, not that!" + +"Yes, that; of course; why not?" + +"Because--because I--I couldn't bear it." + +"You can bear it if I can, can't you--if I've had to bear it all these +weeks and months." + +"Yes, but that's--" she covered her face with her hands--"that's what +makes it so terrible." + +"Of course it makes it terrible; but it isn't as terrible now as it +was--to you anyhow." + +"But why do you withdraw when--when you love him--and he loves +you----?" + +"I do it because I want to throw all the cards on the table. It's what +my common sense has been telling me to do all along, only I've never +worked round to it till we had our talk this afternoon. Now I +see----" + +"What do you see, Miss Walbrook?" + +"I see that we've got to give him a clean sheet, or he'll never know +where he is. He can't decide between us because he's in an impossible +position. We'll have to set him absolutely free, so that he may begin +again. I'll do it on my side. You can do--what you like." + +She went as abruptly as she came, leaving Letty clearer than ever as +to her new course. + +By midnight she was ready. In the back spare room she waited only to +be sure that all in the house were asleep. + +She had heard Allerton come in about half past nine, and the +whispering of voices told that Steptoe was making his explanations, +that she was out of sorts, had dined in her room, and begged not to be +disturbed. At about half past ten she heard the prince go upstairs to +his own room, though she fancied that outside her door he had paused +for a second to listen. That was the culminating minute of her +self-repression. Once it was over, and he had gone on his way, she +knew the rest would be easier. + +By midnight she had only to wait quietly. In the old gray rag and the +battered black hat she surveyed herself without emotion. Since making +her last attempt to escape her relation to all these things had +changed. They had become less significant, less important. The +emblems of the higher life which in the previous autumn she had buried +with ritual and regret she now packed away in the closet, with hardly +a second thought. The old gray rag which had then seemed the livery of +a degraded life was now no more than the resumption of her reality. + +"I'll go as I came," she had been saying to herself, all the evening. +"I know he'd like me to take the things he's given me; but I'd rather +be just what I was." + +If there was any ritual in what she had done since Miss Walbrook had +left her it was in the putting away of small things by which she +didn't want to be haunted. + +"I couldn't do it with this on," she said of the plain gold band on +her finger, to which, as a symbol of marriage, she had never attached +significance in any case. + +She took it off, therefore, and laid it on the dressing table. + +"I couldn't do it with this in my pocket," she said of the purse +containing a few dollars, with which Steptoe had kept her supplied. + +This too she laid on the dressing table, becoming as penniless as when +Judson Flack had put her out of doors. Somehow, to be penniless seemed +to her an element in her new task, and an excuse for it. + +Since Allerton had never made her a present there was nothing of this +kind to discard. It had been part of his non-committal, impersonal +attitude toward her that he had never given her a concrete sign that +she meant anything to him whatever. He had thanked her on occasions +for the comforting quality he found in her presence. He had, in so +many words, recognized the fact that when he got into a tantrum of +nerves she could bring him out of it as no one else had ever done. He +had also imparted to her the discovery that in reading to her, and +trying to show her the point of view of a life superior to her own, he +had for the first time in his life done something for someone else; +but he had never gone beyond all this or allowed her to think that his +heart was not given to "the girl he was engaged to." In that at least +he had been loyal to the mysterious princess, as the little mermaid +could not but see. + +She was not consciously denuded, as she would have felt herself six +months earlier. As to that she was not thinking anything at all. Her +motive, in setting free the prince from the "drag" on him which she +now recognized herself to be, filled all her mental horizons. So +dominated was she by this overwhelming impulse as to have no thought +even for self-pity. + +When a clock somewhere struck one she took it as the summons. From the +dressing-table she picked up the scrawl in Steptoe's hand, giving the +name of Miss Henrietta Towell, at an address at Red Point, L. I. She +knew Red Point, on the tip of Long Island, as a distant, partially +developed suburb of Brooklyn. In the previous year she had gone with a +half dozen other girl "supes" from the Excelsior Studio to "blow in" a +quarter looking at the ocean steamers passing in and out. She had no +intention of intruding on Miss Towell, but she couldn't hurt Steptoe's +feelings by leaving the address behind her. + +For the same reason she took the silver thimble which stood on the +scrap of paper. On its rim she read the inscription, "H.T. from H.S." +but she made no attempt to unravel the romance behind it. She merely +slipped the scrawl and the thimble into the pocket of her jacket, and +stood up. + +She took no farewells. To do so would have unnerved her. On the +landing outside her door she listened for a possible sound of the +prince's breathing, but the house was still. In the lower hall she +resisted the impulse to slip into the library and kiss the place where +she had kissed his feet on the memorable morning when her hand had +been on his brow. "That won't help me any," were the prosaic words +with which she put the suggestion away from her. If the little mermaid +was to leap over the ship's side and dissolve into foam the best thing +she could do was to leap. + +The door no longer held secrets. She had locked it and unlocked it a +thousand times. Feeling for the chain in the darkness she slipped it +out of its socket; she drew back the bolt; she turned the key. Her +fingers found the two little brass knobs, pressing this one that way, +and that one this way. The door rolled softly as she turned the +handle. + +Over the threshold she passed into a world of silence, darkness, +electricity, and stars. She closed the door noiselessly. She went down +the steps. + + + + +Chapter XXI + + +Having the choice between going southward either by Fifth Avenue or by +Madison Avenue, Letty took the former for the reason that there were +no electric cars crashing through it, so that she would be less +observed. It seemed to her important to get as far from East +Sixty-seventh Street as possible before letting a human glance take +note of her personality, even as a drifting silhouette. + +In this she was fortunate. For the hour between one and two in the +early morning this part of Fifth Avenue was unusually empty. There was +not a pedestrian, and only a rare motor car. When one of the latter +flashed by she shrank into the shadow of a great house, lest some eye +of miraculous discernment should light on her. It seemed to her that +all New York must be ready to read her secret, and be on the watch to +turn her back. + +She didn't know why she was going southward rather than northward, +except that southward lay the Brooklyn Bridge, and beyond the Brooklyn +Bridge lay Beehive Valley, and within Beehive Valley the Excelsior +Studio, and in the Excelsior Studio the faint possibility of a job. +She was already thinking in the terms that went with the old gray rag +and the battered hat, and had come back to them as to her +mother-tongue. In forsaking paradise for the limbo of outcast souls +she was at least supported by the fact that in the limbo of outcast +souls she was at home. + +She was not frightened. Now that she was out of the prince's palace +she had suddenly become sensationless. She was like a soul which +having reached the other side of death is conscious only of release +from pain. She was no longer walking on blades; she was no longer +attempting the impossible. Between her and the life which Barbara +Walbrook understood the few steps she had taken had already marked the +gulf. The gulf had always been there, yawning, unbridgeable, only that +she, Letty Gravely, had tried to shut her eyes to it. She had tried to +shut her eyes to it in the hope that the man she loved might come to +do the same. She knew now how utterly foolish any such hope had been. + +She would have perceived this earlier had he not from time to time +revived the hope when it was about to flicker out. More than once he +had confessed to depending on her sympathy. More than once he had told +her that she drew out something he had hardly dared think he +possessed, but which made him more of a man. Once he harked back to +the dust flower, saying that as its humble and heavenly bloom +brightened the spots bereft of beauty so she cheered the lonely and +comfortless places in his heart. He had said these things not as one +who is in love, but as one who is grateful, only that between +gratitude and love she had purposely kept from drawing the +distinction. + +She did not reproach him. On the contrary, she blessed him even for +being grateful. That meed he gave her at least, and that he should +give her anything at all was happiness. Leaving his palace she did so +with nothing but grateful thoughts on her own side. He had smiled on +her always; he had been considerate, kindly, and very nearly tender. +For what he called the wrong he had done her, which she held to be no +wrong at all, he would have made amends so magnificent that the mere +acceptance would have overwhelmed her. Since he couldn't give her the +one thing she craved her best course was like the little mermaid to +tremble into foam, and become a spirit of the wind. + +It was what she was doing. She was going without leaving a trace. A +girl more important than she couldn't have done it so easily. A +Barbara Walbrook had she attempted a freak so mad, would be discovered +within twenty-four hours. It was one of the advantages of extreme +obscurity that you came and went without notice. No matter how +conspicuously a Letty Gravely passed it would not be remembered that +she had gone by. + +With regard to this, however, she made one reserve. She couldn't +disappear forever, not any more than Judith of Bethulia when she went +to the tent of Holofernes. The history of Judith was not in Letty's +mind, because she had never heard of it; there was only the impulse to +the same sort of sacrifice. Since Israel could be delivered only in +one way, that way Judith had been ready to take. To Letty her prince +was her Israel. One day she would have to inform him that the +Holofernes of his captivity was slain--that at last he was free. + +There were lines along which Letty was not imaginative, and one of +those lines ran parallel to Judith's experience. When it came to love +at first sight, she could invent as many situations as there were +millionaires in the subway. In interpreting a part she had views of +her own beyond any held by Luciline Lynch. As to matters of dress her +fancy was boundless. + +Her limitations were in the practical. Among practical things "going +to the bad" was now her chief preoccupation. She had always understood +that when you made up your mind to do it you had only to present +yourself. The way was broad; the gate wide open. There were wicked +people on every side eager to pull you through. You had only to go out +into the street, after dark especially--and there you were! + +Having walked some three or four blocks she made out the figure of a +man coming up the hill toward her. Her heart stopped beating; her +knees quaked. This was doom. She would meet it, of course, since her +doom would be the prince's salvation; but she couldn't help trembling +as she watched it coming on. + +By the light of an arc-lamp she saw that he was in evening dress. The +wicked millionaires who, in motion-pictures, were the peril of young +girls, were always so attired. Iphigenia could not have trodden to the +altar with a more consuming mental anguish than Letty as she dragged +herself toward this approaching fate; but she did so drag herself +without mercy. For a minute as he drew near she was on the point of +begging him to spare her; but she saved herself in time from this +frustration of her task. + +The man, a young stock-broker in a bad financial plight, scarcely +noticed that a female figure was passing him. Had the morrow's market +been less a matter of life and death to him he might have thrown her +a glance; but as it was she did not come within the range of his +consciousness. To her amazement, and even to her consternation, Letty +saw him go onward up the hill, his eyes straight before him, and his +profile sharply cut in the electric light. + +She explained the situation by the fact that he hadn't seen her at +all. That a man could actually _see_ a girl, in such unusual +conditions, and still go by inoffensively, was as contrary to all she +had heard of life as it would have been to the principles of a Turkish +woman to suppose that one of this sex could behold her face and not +fall fiercely in love with her. As, however, two men were now coming +up the hill together Letty was obliged to re-organize her forces to +meet the new advance. + +She couldn't reason this time that they hadn't seen her, because their +heads turned in her direction, and the intonation of the words she +couldn't articulately hear was that of faint surprise. Further than +that there was no incident. They were young men too, also in evening +dress, and of the very type of which all her warnings had bidden her +beware. The immunity from insult was almost a matter for chagrin. + +As she approached Fifty-ninth Street encounters were nearly as +numerous as they would have been in daylight; but Letty went on her +way as if, instead of the old gray rag, she wore the magic cloak of +invisibility. So it was during the whole of the long half mile between +Fifty-ninth Street and Forty-second Street. In spite of the fact that +she was the only unescorted woman she saw, no invitation "to go to the +bad" was proffered her. "There's quite a trick to it," Steptoe had +said, in the afternoon; and she began to think that there was. + +At Forty-second Street, for no reason that she could explain, she +turned into the lower and quieter spur of Madison Avenue, climbing and +descending Murray Hill. Here she was almost alone. Motor-car traffic +had practically ceased; foot-passengers there were none; on each side +of the street the houses were somber and somnolent. The electric lamps +flared as elsewhere, but with little to light up. + +Her sense of being lost became awesome. It began to urge itself in on +her that she was going nowhere, and had nowhere to go. She was back in +the days when she had walked away from Judson Flack's, without the +same heart in the adventure. She recalled now that on that day she had +felt young, daring, equal to anything that fate might send; now she +felt curiously old and experienced. All her illusions had been dished +up to her at once and been blown away as by a hurricane. The little +mermaid who had loved the prince and failed to win his love in return +could have nothing more to look forward to. + +She was drifting, drifting, when suddenly from the shadow of a flight +of broad steps a man stalked out and confronted her. He confronted her +with such evident intention that she stopped. Not till she stopped +could she see that he was a policeman in his summer uniform. + +"Where you goin', sister?" + +"I ain't goin' nowheres." + +She fell back on the old form of speech as on another tongue. + +"Where you come from then?" + +Feeling now that she had gone to the bad, or was at the beginning of +that process, she made a reply that would seem probable. "I come from +a fella I've been--I've been livin' with." + +"Gee!" The tone was of deepest pity. "Darned sorry to hear you're in +that box, a nice girl like you." + +"I ain't such a nice girl as you might think." + +"Gee! Anyone can see you're a nice girl, just from the way you walk." + +Letty was astounded. Was the way you walked part of Steptoe's "trick +to it?" In the hope of getting information she said, still in the +secondary tongue: "What's the matter with the way I walk?" + +"There's nothin' the matter with it. That's the trouble. Anyone can +see that you're not a girl that's used to bein' on the street at this +hour of the night. Ain't you goin' _anywheres_?" + +Fear of the police-station suddenly made her faint. If she wasn't +going _anywheres_ he might arrest her. She bethought her of Steptoe's +scrawled address. "Yes, I'm goin' there." + +As he stepped under the arc-light to read it she saw that he was a +fatherly man, on the distant outskirts of youth, who might well have a +family of growing boys and girls. + +"That's a long ways from here," he said, handing the scrap of paper +back to her. "Why don't you take the subway? At this time of night +there's a train every quarter of an hour." + +"I ain't got no bones. I'm footin' it." + +"Footin' it all the way to Red Point? You? Gee!" + +Once more Letty felt that about her there was something which put her +out of the key of her adventure. + +"Well, what's there against _me_ footin' it?" + +"There's nothin' against you footin' it--on'y you don't seem that +sort. Haven't you got as much as two bits? It wouldn't come to that if +you took the subway over here at----" + +"Well, I haven't got two bits; nor one bit; nor nothin' at all; so I +guess I'll be lightin' out." + +She had nodded and passed, when a stride of his long legs brought him +up to her again. "Well, see here, sister! If you haven't got two bits, +take this. I can't have you trampin' all the way over to Red +Point--not _you_!" + +Before knowing what had happened Letty found her hand closing over a +silver half-dollar, while her benefactor, as if ashamed of his act, +was off again on his beat. She ran after him. Her excitement was such +that she forgot the secondary language. + +"Oh, I couldn't accept this from you. Please! Don't make me take it. +I'm--" She felt it the moment for making the confession, and possibly +getting hints--"I'm--I'm goin' to the bad, anyhow." + +"Oh, so that's the talk! I thought you said you'd gone to the bad +already. Oh, no, sister; you don't put that over on me, not a nice +looker like you!" + +She was almost sobbing. "Well, I'm going--if--if I can find the way. I +wish you'd tell me if there's a trick to it." + +"There's one trick I'll tell you, and that's the way to Red Point." + +"I know that already." + +"Then, if you know that already, you've got my four bits, which is +more than enough to take you there decent." He lifted his hand, with a +warning forefinger. "Remember now, little sister, as long as you spend +that half dollar it'll bind you to keep good." + +He tramped off into the darkness, leaving Letty perplexed at the ways +of wickedness, as she began once more to drift southward. + +But she drifted southward with a new sense of misgiving. Danger was +mysteriously coy, and she didn't know how to court it. True, there was +still time enough, but the debut was not encouraging. When she had +gone forth from Judson Flack's she had felt sure that adventure lay in +wait for her, and Rashleigh Allerton had responded almost +instantaneously. Now she had no such confidence. On the contrary; all +her premonitions worked the other way. Perhaps it was the old gray +rag. Perhaps it was her lack of feminine appeal. Men had never flocked +about her as they flocked about some girls, like bees about flowers. +If she was a flower, she was a dust flower, a humble thing, at home in +the humblest places, and never regarded as other than a weed. + +She wandered into Fourth Avenue, reaching Astor Place. From Astor +Place she descended the city by the long artery of Lafayette Street, +in which teams rumbled heavily, and all-night workers shouted +raucously to each other in foreign languages. One of a band of +Italians digging in the roadway, with colored lanterns about them, +called out something at her, the nature of which she could only infer +from the laughter of his compatriots. Here too she began to notice +other women like herself, shabby, furtive, unescorted, with terrible +eyes, aimlessly drifting from nowhere to nowhere. There were not many +of them; only one at long intervals; but they frightened her more than +the men. + +They frightened her because she saw what she must look like herself, a +thing too degraded for any man to want. She was not that yet, perhaps; +but it was what she might become. They were not wholly new to her, +these women; and they all had begun at some such point as that from +which she was starting out. Very well! She was ready to go this road, +if only by this road her prince could be freed from her. Since she +couldn't give up everything for him in one way, she would do it in +another. The way itself was more or less a matter of indifference--not +entirely, perhaps, but more or less. If she could set him free in any +way she would be content. + +The rumble and stir of Lafayette Street alarmed her because it was so +foreign. The upper part of the town had been empty and eerie. This +quarter was eerie, alien, and occupied. It was difficult for her to +tell what so many people were doing abroad because their aims seemed +different from those of daylight. What she couldn't understand struck +her as nefarious; and what struck her as nefarious filled her with the +kind of terror that comes in dreams. + +By these Italians, Slavs, and Semites she was more closely scrutinized +than she had been elsewhere. She was scrutinized, too, with a hint of +hostility in the scrutiny. In their jabber of tongues they said things +about her as she passed. Wild-eyed women, working by the flare of +torches with their men, resented her presence in the street. They +insulted her in terms she couldn't understand, while the men laughed +in frightful, significant jocosity. The unescorted women alone looked +at her with a hint of friendliness. One of them, painted, haggard, +desperate, awful, stopped as if to speak to her; but Letty sped away +like a snowbird from a shrike. + +At a corner where the cross-street was empty she turned out of this +haunted highway, presently finding herself lost in a congeries of +old-time streets of which she had never heard. Her only knowledge of +New York was of streets crossing each other at right angles, numbered, +prosaic, leaving no more play to the fancy than a sum in arithmetic. +Here the ways were narrow, the buildings tall, the night effects +fantastic. In the lamp light she could read signs bearing names as +unpronounceable as the gibbering monkey-speech in Lafayette Street. +Warehouses, offices, big wholesale premises, lairs of highly +specialized businesses which only the few knew anything about, offered +no place for human beings to sleep, and little invitation to the +prowler. Now and then a marauding cat darted from shadow to shadow, +but otherwise she was as nearly alone as she could imagine herself +being in the heart of a great city. + +Still she went on and on. In the effort to escape this overpowering +solitude she turned one corner and then another, now coming out +beneath the elevated trains, now on the outskirts of docks where she +was afraid of sailors. She was afraid of being alone, and afraid of +the thoroughfares where there were people. On the whole she was more +afraid of the thoroughfares where there were people, though her fear +soon entered the unreasoning phase, in which it is fear and nothing +else. Still headed vaguely southward she zigzagged from street to +street, helpless, terrified, longing for day. + +She was in a narrow street of which the high weird gables on either +side recalled her impressions on opening a copy of _Faust_, +illustrated by Gustave Doré, which she found on the library table in +East Sixty-seventh Street. On her right the elevated and the docks +were not far away, on the left she could catch, through an occasional +side street the distant gleam of Broadway. Being afraid of both she +kept to the deep canyon of unreality and solitude, though she was +afraid of that. At least she was alone; and yet to be alone chilled +her marrow and curdled her blood. + +Suddenly she heard the clank of footsteps. She stopped to listen, +making them out as being on the other side of the street, and +advancing. Before she had dared to move on again a man emerged from +the half light and came abreast of her. As he stopped to look across +at her, Letty hurried on. + +The man also went on, but on glancing over her shoulder to make sure +that she was safe she saw him pause, cross to her side of the street, +and begin to follow her. That he followed her was plain from his whole +plan of action. The ring of his footsteps told her that he was walking +faster than she, though in no precise hurry to overtake her. Rather, +he seemed to be keeping her in sight, and watching for some +opportunity. + +It was exactly what men did when they robbed and murdered unprotected +women. She had read of scores of such cases, and had often imagined +herself as being stalked by this kind of ghoul. Now the thing which +she had greatly feared having come upon her she was nearly hysterical. +If she ran he would run after her. If she only walked on he would +overtake her. Before she could reach the docks on one side or Broadway +on the other, where she might find possible defenders, he could easily +have strangled her and rifled her fifty cents. + +It was still unreasoning fear, but fear in which there was another +kind of prompting, which made her wheel suddenly and walk back towards +him. She noticed that as she did so, he stopped, wavered, but came on +again. + +Before the obscurity allowed of her seeing what type of man he was she +cried out, with a half sob: + +"Oh, mister, I'm so afraid! I wish you'd help me." + +"Sure!" The tone had the cheery fraternal ring of commonplace +sincerity. "That's what I turned round for. I says, that girl's lost, +I says. There's places down here that's dangerous, and she don't know +where she is." + +Hysterical fear became hysterical relief. "And you're not going to +murder me?" + +"Gee! Me? What'd I murder you for? I'm a plumber." + +His tone making it seem impossible for a plumber to murder anyone she +panted now from a sense of reassurance and security. She could see too +that he was a decent looking young fellow in overalls, off on an +early job. + +"Where you goin' anyhow?" he asked, in kindly interest. "The minute I +see you on the other side of the street, I says Gosh, I says! That +girl's got to be watched, I says. She don't know that these streets +down by the docks is dangerous." + +She explained that she was on her way to Red Point, Long Island, and +that having only fifty cents she was sparing of her money. + +"Gee! I wouldn't be so economical if it was me. That ain't the only +fifty cents in the world. Look-a-here! I've got a dollar. You must +take that----" + +"Oh, I couldn't." + +"Shucks! What's a dollar? You can pay me back some time. I'll give you +my address. It's all right. I'm married. Three kids. And say, if you +send me back the dollar, which you needn't do, you know--but if you +_must_--sign a man's name to the letter, because my wife--well, she's +all right, but if----" + +Letty escaped the necessity of accepting the dollar by assuring him +that if he would tell her the way to the nearest subway station she +would use a portion of her fifty cents. + +"I'll go with you," he declared, with breezy fraternity. "No distance. +They're expecting me on a job up there in Waddle Street, but they'll +wait. Pipe burst--floodin' a loft where they've stored a lot of +jute--but why worry?" + +As they threaded the broken series of streets toward the subway he +aired the matrimonial question. + +"Some think as two can live on the same wages as one. All bunk, I'll +say. My wife used to be in the hair line. Some little earner too. Had +an electric machine that'd make hair grow like hay on a marsh. Two +dollars a visit she got. When we was married she had nine hunderd +saved. I had over five hunderd myself. We took a weddin' tour; +Atlantic City. Gettin' married's a cinch; but _stayin_' married--she's +all right, my wife is, only she's kind o' nervous like if I look +sideways at any other woman--which I hardly ever do intentional--only +my wife's got it into her head that...." + +At the entrance to the subway Letty shook hands with him and thanked +him. + +"Say," he responded, "I wish I could do something more for you; but I +got to hike it back to Waddle Street. Look-a-here! You stick to the +subway and the stations, and don't you be in a hurry to get to your +address in Red Point till after daylight. They can't be killin' nobody +over there, that you'd need to be in such a rush, and in the stations +you'd be safe." + +To a degree that was disconcerting Letty found this so. Having +descended the stairs, purchased a ticket, and cast it into the +receptacle appointed for that purpose, she saw herself examined by the +colored man guarding the entry to the platform. He sat with his chair +tilted back, his feet resting on the chain which protected part of the +entrance, picking a set of brilliant teeth. Letty, trembling, nervous, +and only partly comforted by the cavalier who was now on his way to +Waddle Street, shrank from the colored man's gaze and was going down +the platform where she could be away from it. Her progress was +arrested by the sight of two men, also waiting for the train, who on +perceiving her started in her direction. + +The colored man lifted his feet lazily from the chain, brought his +chair down to four legs, put his toothpick in his waistcoat pocket, +and dragged himself up. + +"Say, lady," he drawled, on approaching her, "I think them two fellas +is tough. You stay here by me. I'll not let no one get fresh with +you." + +Languidly he went back to his former position and occupation, but when +after long waiting, the train drew in he unhooked his feet again from +the chain, rose lazily, and accompanied Letty across the otherwise +empty platform. + +"Say, brother," he said to the conductor, "don't let any fresh guy get +busy with this lady. She's alone, and timid like." + +"Sure thing," the conductor replied, closing the doors as Letty +stepped within. "Sit in this corner, lady, next to me. The first mutt +that wags his jaw at you'll get it on the bean." + +Letty dropped as she was bidden into the corner, dazed by the +brilliant lighting, and the greasy unoccupied seats. She was alone in +the car, and the kindly conductor having closed his door she felt a +certain sense of privacy. The train clattered off into the darkness. + +Where was she going? Why was she there? How was she ever to accomplish +the purpose with which two hours earlier she had stolen away from East +Sixty-seventh Street? Was it only two hours earlier? It seemed like +two years. It seemed like a space of time not to be reckoned.... + +She was tired as she had never been tired in her life. Her head sank +back into the support made by the corner. + +"There's quite a trick to it," she found herself repeating, though in +what connection she scarcely knew. "An awful wicked lydy, she is, +what'd put madam up to all the ropes." These words too drifted through +her mind, foolishly, drowsily, without obvious connection. She began +to wish that she was home again in the little back spare room--or +anywhere--so long as she could lie down--and shut her eyes--and go to +sleep.... + + + + +Chapter XXII + + +It was Steptoe who discovered that the little back spare room was +empty, though William had informed him that he thought it strange that +madam didn't appear for breakfast. Steptoe knew then that what he had +expected had come to pass, and if earlier than he had looked for it, +perhaps it was just as well. Having tapped at madam's door and +received no answer he ventured within. Everything there confirming his +belief, he went to inform Mr. Rash. + +As Mr. Rash was shaving in the bathroom Steptoe plodded round the +bedroom, picking up scattered articles of clothing, putting outside +the door the shoes which had been taken off on the previous night, +digging another pair of shoes from the shoe-cupboard, and otherwise +busying himself as usual. Even when Mr. Rash had re-entered the +bedroom the valet made no immediate reference to what had happened in +the house. He approached the subject indirectly by saying, as he laid +out an old velvet house-jacket on the bed: + +"I suppose if Mr. Rash ain't goin' out for 'is breakfast 'e'll put +this on for 'ome." + +Mr. Rash, who was buttoning his collar before the mirror said over his +shoulder: "But I am going out for my breakfast. Why shouldn't I? I +always do." + +Steptoe carried the house-jacket back to the closet. + +"I thought as Mr. Rash only did that so as madam could 'ave the dinin' +room to 'erself, private like." + +As a way of expressing the fact that Allerton had never eaten a meal +with Letty the choice of words was neat. + +"Well? What then?" + +"Oh, nothink, sir. I was only thinkin' that, as madam was no longer +'ere----" + +Allerton wheeled round, his fingers clawing at the collar-stud, his +face growing bloodless. "No longer here? What the deuce do you mean?" + +"Oh, didn't Mr. Rash know? Madam seems to 'ave left us. I supposed +that after I'd gone upstairs last night Mr. Rash and 'er must 'ave 'ad +some sort of hunderstandin'--and she went." + +"Went?" Allerton's tone was almost a scream. Leaping on the old man he +took him by the shoulders, snaking him. "Damn you! Get it out! What +are you trying to tell me?" + +Steptoe quaked and cowered. "Why, nothink, sir. Only when William said +as madam didn't come down to 'er breakfast I went to 'er door and +tapped--and there wasn't no one in the room. Mr. Rash 'ad better go +and see for 'imself." + +The young man not only released the older one, but pushed him aside +with a force which sent him staggering backwards. Over the stairs he +scrambled, he plunged. Though he had never entered the back spare room +since allotting it to Letty as her own he threw the door open now as +if the place was on fire. + +But by the time Steptoe had followed and reached the threshold +Allerton had calmed suddenly. He stood in front of the open closet +vaguely examining its contents. He picked up the little gold band, +chucked it a few inches into the air, caught it, and put it down. He +looked into the little leather purse, poured out its notes and pennies +into his hand, replaced them, and put that also down again. He opened +the old red volume lying on the table by the bed, finding _The Little +Mermaid_ marked by two stiff dried sprays of dust flower, which more +than ever merited its name. When he turned round to where Steptoe, +white and scared by this time, was standing in the open doorway, his, +Allerton's, face was drawn, in mingled convulsion and bewilderment. +With two strides he was across the room. + +"Tell me what you know about this, you confounded old schemer, before +I kick you out." + +Shivering and shaking, Steptoe nevertheless held himself with dignity. +"I'll tell you what I know, Mr. Rash, though it ain't very much. I +know that madam 'as 'ad it in 'er mind for some time past that unless +she took steps Mr. Rash'd never be free to marry the young lydy what +'e was in love with." + +"What did she mean by taking steps?" + +"I don't know exactly, but I think it was the kind o' steps as'd give +Mr. Rash 'is release quicker nor any other." + +Allerton's arm was raised as if to strike a blow. "And you let her?" + +The old face was set steadily. "I didn't do nothin' but what Mr. Rash +'imself told me to do." + +"Told you to do?" + +"Yes, Mr. Rash; six months ago; the mornin' after you'd brought madam +into the 'ouse. I was to get you out of the marriage, you said; but I +think madam 'as done it all of 'er own haccord." + +"But why? Why should she?" + +Steptoe smiled, dimly. "Oh, don't Mr. Rash see? Madam 'ad give 'erself +to 'im 'eart and spirit and soul. If she couldn't go to the good for +'im, she'd go to the bad. So long as she served 'im, it didn't matter +to madam what she done. And if I was Mr. Rash----" + +Allerton's spring was like that of a tiger. Before Steptoe felt that +he had been seized he was on his back on the floor, with Allerton +kneeling on his chest. + +"You old reptile! I'm going to kill you." + +"You may kill me, Mr. Rash, but it won't make no difference to madam +'avin' loved you----" + +Two strong hands at his throat choked back more words, till the sound +of his strangling startled Allerton into a measure of self-control. He +scrambled to his feet again. + +"Get up." + +Steptoe dragged himself up, and after dusting himself with his fingers +stood once more passive and respectful, as if nothing violent had +occurred. + +"If I was Mr. Rash," he went on, imperturbably, "I'd let well enough +alone." + +It was Allerton who was breathless. "Wha--what do you mean by well +enough alone?" + +"Well the wye I see it, it's this wye. Mr. Rash is married to one +young lydy and wants to marry another." He broke off to ask, +significantly: "I suppose that'd be so, Mr. Rash?" + +"Well, what then?" + +"Why, then, 'e can't marry the other young lydy till the young lydy +what 'e's married to sets 'im free. Now that young lydy what 'e's +married to 'as started out to set 'im free, and if I was Mr. Rash I'd +let 'er." + +"You'd let her throw herself away for me?" + +"I'd let 'er do anythink what'd show I knowed my own mind, Mr. Rash. +If it wouldn't be steppin' out of my place to sye so, I wish Mr. Rash +could tell which of these two young lydies 'e wanted, and which 'e'd +be willin' for to----" + +"How can I tell that when--when both have a claim on me?" + +"Yes, but only one 'as a clyme on Mr. Rash now. Madam 'as given up 'er +clyme, so as to myke things easier for _'im_. There's only one clyme +now for Mr. Rash to think about, and that mykes everythink simple." + +An embarrassed cough drew Steptoe's attention to the fact that someone +was standing in the hall outside. It was William with a note on a +silver tray. Beside the note stood a small square package, tied with a +white ribbon, which looked as if it contained a piece of wedding cake. +His whisper of explanation was the word, "Wildgoose," but a cocking of +his eye gave Steptoe to understand that William was quite aware of +wading in the current of his employer's love-affairs. Moreover, the +fact that Steptoe and his master should be making so free with the +little back spare room was in William's judgment evidence of drama. + +"What's this?" + +Glancing at the hand-writing on the envelope, and taking in the fact +that a small square package, looking like a bit of wedding cake stood +beside it, Allerton jumped back. Steptoe might have been presenting +him with a snake. + +"I don't know, Mr. Rash. William 'as just brought it up. Someone seems +to 'ave left it at the door." + +As Steptoe continued to stand with his offering held out Allerton had +no choice but to take up the letter and break the seal. He read it +with little grunts intended to signify ironic laughter, but which +betrayed no more than bitterness of soul. + + "DEAR RASH: + + I have come to see that we shall never get out of the impasse + in which we seem to have been caught unless someone takes a + stand. I have therefore decided to take one. Of the three of + us it is apparently easiest for me, so that I am definitely + breaking our engagement and sending you back your ring. Any + claim I may have had on you I give up of my own accord, so + that as far as I am concerned you are free. This will simplify + your situation, and enable you to act according to the + dictates of your heart. Believe me, dear Rash, affectionately + yours + + BARBARA WALBROOK." + +Though it was not his practice to take his valet into the secret of +his correspondence the circumstances were exceptional. Allerton handed +the letter to Steptoe without a word. As the old man was feeling for +his glasses and adjusting them to his nose Mr. Rash turned absently +away, picking up the volume of Hans Andersen, from which the sprays +of dust flower tumbled out. On putting them back his eyes fell upon +the words, which someone had marked with a pencil: + +"Day by day she grew dearer to the prince; but he loved her as one +loves a child. The thought of making her his queen never crossed his +mind." + +A spasm passed over his face. He turned the page impatiently. Here he +caught the words which had been underlined: + +"I am with him every day. I will watch over him--love him--and +sacrifice my life for him." + +Shutting the book with a bang, and throwing it on the table, he +wheeled round to where Steptoe, having folded the letter, was taking +off his spectacles. + +"Well, what do you say to that?" + +"What I'd sye to that, Mr. Rash, is that it's as good as a legal +document. If any young lydy what wrote that letter was to bring a +haction for breach, this 'ere pyper'd nyle 'er." + +"So where am I now?" + +"Free as a lark, Mr. Rash. One young lydy 'as turned you down, and the +other 'as gone to the bad for you; so if you was to begin agyne with a +third you'd 'ave a clean sheet." + +He groaned aloud. "Ah, go to ----" + +But without stating the place to which Steptoe was to go he marched +out of the room, and back to his dressing upstairs. + + * * * * * + +More dispassionate was the early morning scene in the little basement +eating house in which the stunted Hebrew maid of Polish culture was +serving breakfast to two gentlemen who had plainly met by +appointment. Beside the one was an oblong packet, of which some of the +contents, half displayed, had the opulent engraved decorations of +stock certificates. + +The other gentleman, resembling an operatic brigand a little the worse +for wear, was saying with conviction: "Oil! Don't talk to me! No, sir! +There's enough oil in Milligan Center alone to run every car in Europe +and America at this present time; while if you include North Milligan, +where it's beginnin' to shoot like the Old Faithful geyser----" + +"Awful obliged to you, Judson," the other took up, humbly. "I thought +that bunch o' nuts 'd never----" + +"So did I, Gorry. I've sweated blood over this job all winter. Queer +the way men are made. Now you'd hardly believe the work I've had to +show that lot of boneheads that because a guy's a detective in one +line, he ain't a detective in every line. Homicide, I said, was Gorry +Larrabin's specialty, and where there's no homicide he's no more a +detective than a busted rubber tire." + +"You've said it," Gorry corroborated, earnestly. "One of the cussed +things about detectin' is that fellas gets afraid of you. Think +because you're keepin' up your end you must be down on every little +thing, and that you ain't a sport." + +"Must be hard," Judson said, sympathetically. + +"I'll tell you it's hard. Lots of fun I'd like to be let in on--but +you're kept outside." + +The drawbacks of the detective profession not being what Judson +chiefly had on his mind he allowed the subject to drop. An interval of +silence for the consumption of a plateful of golden toasties +permitted Gorry to begin again reminiscently. + +"By the way, Judson, do you remember that about six months ago you was +chewin' over that girl of yours, and what had become of her?" + +To himself Judson said: "That's the talk; now we're comin' to +business." Aloud he made it: "Why, yes. Seems to me I do. She's been +gone so long I'd almost forgot her." + +"Well, what d'ye know? Last night--lemme see, was it last night?--no, +night before last--I kind o' got wind of her." + +"Heaven's sake!" + +"Guy I know was comin' through East Sixty-seventh Street, and there +was my lady, dressed to beat the band, leadin' one of them little toy +dogs, and talkin' to a swell toff that lives in one of them houses. +Got the number here in my pocket-book." + +While he was searching his pocket-book Judson asked, breathlessly: +"Couldn't be no mistake?" + +"It's nix on mistakes. That guy don't make 'em. Surest thing on the +force. He said, 'Good afternoon, Miss Gravely'; and she said, 'Good +afternoon' back to him--just like that. The guy walked on and turned a +corner; but when he peeped back, there was the couple goin' into the +house just like husband and wife. What d'ye know?" + +"What do I know? I know I'll spill his claret for him before the week +is out." + +"Ah, here it is! Knew I had that address on me somewheres." He handed +the scrap of paper across the table. "That's his name and number. +Seems to me you may have a good thing there, Judson, if you know how +to work it." + + * * * * * + +In another early morning scene the ermine was cleaning her nest; and +you know how fastidious she is supposed to be as to personal +spotlessness. The ermine in question did not belie her reputation, as +you would have seen by a glance at the three or four rooms which made +up what she called her "flat." + +Nothing was ever whiter than the wood-work of the "flat" and its +furnishings. Nothing was ever whiter than the little lady's dress. The +hair was white, and even the complexion, the one like silver, the +other like the camelia. Having breakfasted from white dishes placed on +a white napkin, she was busy with a carpet-sweeper sweeping up +possible crumbs. In an interval of the carpet-sweeper's buzz she heard +the telephone. + +"Hello!" The male voice was commanding. + +"Yes?" The response was sweetly precise. + +"Is this Red Point 3284-W?" + +"It is." + +"Can I speak to Miss Henrietta Towell?" + +"This is Miss Henrietta Towell." + +"This is the Brooklyn Bridge Emergency Hospital. Do you know a girl +named Letitia Rashleigh?" + +There was a second's hesitation. "I was once a lady's maid to a lady +whose maiden name was Rashleigh. I think there may be a connection +somewhere." + +"She was found unconscious on a car in the subway last night and +brought in here." + +"And has she mentioned me?" + +"She hasn't mentioned anyone since she came to; but we find your +address on a paper in her pocket." + +"That seems singular, but I expect there's a purpose behind it. Is +that everything she had?" + +"No; she had forty-five cents and a thimble." + +"A thimble! Just an ordinary thimble." + +"Yes, an ordinary thimble, except that it has initials on the edge. +'H.T. from H.S.' Does that mean anything to you?" + +"Yes; that means something to me. May I ask how to reach the +hospital?" + +This being explained Miss Towell promised to appear without delay, +begging that in the meantime everything be done for Miss Rashleigh's +comfort. + +She was not perturbed. She was not surprised. She did not wonder who +Letitia Rashleigh could be, or why her address should be found in the +girl's pocket. She was as quiet and serene as if such incidents +belonged to every day's work. + +Dressed for the street she was all in black. A mantua covered with +bugles and braid dropped from her shoulders, while a bonnet which rose +to a pointed arch above her brow, and allowed the silver knob of her +hair to escape behind, gave her a late nineteenth century dignity. +Before leaving the house she took two volumes from her shelves--read +first in one, then in the other--sat pensive for a while, with head +bent and eyes shaded--after which she replaced her books, turned the +key in her door, and set forth for Brooklyn Bridge. + + + + +Chapter XXIII + + +"Why you should hold me responsible," Barbara was saying, "I can't +begin to imagine. Surely I've done everything I could to simplify +matters, to straighten them out, and to give you a chance to rectify +your folly. I've effaced myself; I've broken my heart; I've promised +Aunt Marion to go in for a job for which I'm not fitted and don't care +a rap; and yet you come here, accusing me----" + +"But, Barbe, I'm _not_ accusing you! If I'm accusing anyone it's +myself. Only I can't speak without your taking me up----" + +"There you go! Oh, Rash, dear, if you'd only been able to control +yourself nothing of this would have happened--not from the first." + +She was pacing up and down the little reception room, and rubbing her +hands together, while the twisting of the fish-tail of her +hydrangea-colored robe, like an eel in agony, emphasized her +agitation. Rashleigh was seated, his elbows on his knees, his head +bowed between his hands, of which the fingers clutched and tore at the +masses of his hair. Only when he spoke did he lift his woe-begone +black eyes. + +"Well, I didn't control myself," he admitted, impatiently; "that's +settled. Why go back to it? The question is----" + +"Yes; why go back to it? That's you all over, Rash. You can do what no +one else in his senses would ever think of doing; and when you've +upset the whole apple cart it must never be referred to again. I'm to +accept, and keep silence. Well, I've _kept_ silence. I've gone all +winter like a muzzled dog. I've wheedled that girl, and kow-towed to +her, and made her think I was fond of her--which I am in a way--you +may not believe it, but I am--and what's the result? She gets sick of +the whole business; runs away; and you come here and throw the whole +blame on me." + +He tried to speak with special calmness. "Barbe, listen to me. What I +said was this----" + +She came to a full stop in front of him, her arms outspread. "Oh, +Rash, dear, I know perfectly well what you said. You don't have to go +all over it again. I'm not deaf. If you would only not be so +excitable----" + +He jumped to his feet. "I'm excitable, I know, Barbe. I confess it. +Everybody knows it. What I'm trying to tell you is that I'm not +excited _now_." + +She laughed, a little mocking laugh, and started once more to pace up +and down. "Oh, very well! You're not excited now. Then that's +understood. You never are excited. You're as calm as a mountain." She +paused again, though at a distance. "_Now?_ What is it you're going to +do? That's what you've come to ask me, isn't it? Are you going to run +after her? Are you going to let her go? Are you going to divorce her, +if she gives you the opportunity? If you divorce her are you going +to----?" + +"But, Barbe, I can't decide all these questions now. What I want to do +is to _find_ her." + +"Well, I haven't got her here? Why don't you go after her? Why don't +you apply to the police? Why don't you----?" + +"Yes, but that's just what I want to discuss with you. I don't _like_ +applying to the police. If I do it'll get into the papers, and the +whole thing become so odious and vulgar----" + +"And it's such an exquisite idyll now!" + +He threw back his head. "_She's_ an exquisite idyll--in her way." + +"There! That's what I wanted to hear you say! I've thought you were in +love with her----" + +He remembered the penciled lines in Hans Andersen. "If I have been, +it's as you may be in love with an innocent little child----" + +She laughed again, wildly, almost hysterically. "Oh, Rash, don't try +to get that sort of thing off on me. I know how men love innocent +little children. You can see the way they do it any night you choose +to hang round the stage-door of a theatre where the exquisite idylls +are playing in musical comedy." + +"Don't Barbe! Not when you're talking about her! I know she's an +ignorant little thing; but to me she's like a wild-flower----" + +"Wild-flowers can be cultivated, Rash." + +"Yes, but the wild-flower she's most like is the one you see in the +late summer all along the dusty highways----" + +She put up both palms in a gesture of protestation. "Oh, Rash, please +don't be poetical. It gets on my nerves. I can't stand it. I like you +in every mood but your sentimental one." She came to a halt beside +the mantelpiece, on which she rested an elbow, turning to look at him. +"Now tell me, Rash! Suppose I wasn't in the world at all. Or suppose +you'd never heard of me. And suppose you found yourself married to +this girl, just as you are--nominally--legally--but not really. Would +you--would you make it--really?" + +They exchanged a long silent look. His eyes had not left hers when he +said: "I--I might." + +"Good! Now suppose she wasn't in the world at all, or that you'd never +heard of her. And suppose that you and I were--were on just the same +terms that we are to-day. Would you--would you want to marry me? +Answer me truly." + +"Why, yes; of course." + +"Now suppose that she and I were standing together, and you were led +in to choose between us. And suppose you were absolutely free and +untrammelled in your choice, with no question as to her feelings or +mine to trouble you. Which would you take? Answer me just as truly and +sincerely as you can." + +He took time to think, wheeling away from her, and walking up and down +the little room with his hands behind his back. It occurred to neither +that Barbara having broken the "engagement," and returned the ring, +the choice before him was purely hypothetical. Their relations were no +more affected by the note she had written him that morning than by the +ceremony through which he and Letty had walked in the previous year. + +To Barbara the suspense was almost unbearable. In a minute or two, and +with a word or two, she would know how life for the future was to be +cast. She would have before her the possibility of some day becoming a +happy wife--or a great career like her aunt's. + +Pausing in his walk he confronted her just as he stood, his hands +still clasped behind his back. Her own attitude, with elbow resting on +the mantelpiece, was that of a woman equal to anything. + +He spoke slowly. "Just as truly and sincerely as I can answer you--I +don't know." + +She stirred slightly, but otherwise gave no sign of her impatience. +"And is there anything that would help you to find out?" + +He shook his head. "Nothing that I can think of, unless----" + +"Yes? Unless--what?" + +"Unless it's something that would unlock what's locked in my +subconsciousness." + +"And what would that be?" + +"I haven't the faintest idea." + +She moved from the mantelpiece with a gesture of despair. "Rash, +you're absolutely and hopelessly impossible." + +"I know that," he admitted, humbly. + +With both fists clenched she stood in front of him. "I could kill +you." + +He hung his head. "Not half so easily as I could kill myself." + + * * * * * + +Letty's judgment on Miss Henrietta Towell was different from yours and +mine. She found her just what she had expected to see from the +warnings long ago issued by Mrs. Judson Flack in putting her daughter +on her guard. In going about the city she, Letty, was always to be +suspicious of elderly ladies, respectably dressed, enticingly +mannered, and with what seemed like maternal intentions. The more any +one of these traits was developed, the more suspicious Letty was to +be. With these instructions carefully at heart she would have been +suspicious of Henrietta Towell in any case; but with Steptoe's +description to fall back upon she couldn't but feel sure. + +By the time Miss Towell had arrived at the hospital Letitia Rashleigh +had sufficiently recovered to be dressed and seated in the armchair +placed beside the bed in the small white ward. On one low bedpost the +jacket had been hung, and on the other the battered black hat. + +"There's nothing the matter with her," the nurse explained to Miss +Towell, before entering the ward. "She had fainted in the subway, but +I think it was only from fatigue, and perhaps from lack of food. She's +quite well nourished, only she didn't seem to have eaten any supper, +and was evidently tired from a long and frightening walk. She gives us +no explanation of herself, and is disinclined to talk, and if it +hadn't been that she had your address in her pocket----" + +"I think I know how she got that. From her name I judge that she's a +relative of the family in which I used to be employed; but as they +were all very wealthy people----" + +"Even very wealthy people often have poor relations." + +"Yes, of course; but I was with this family for so many years that if +there'd been any such connection I think I must have heard of it. +However, it makes no difference to me, and I shall be glad to be of +use to her, especially as she has in her possession an article--a +thimble it is--which once belonged to me." + +At the bedside the nurse made the introduction. "This is the lady +whose address you had in your pocket. She very kindly said she'd come +and see what she could do for you." + +Having placed a chair for Miss Towell the nurse withdrew to attend to +other patients in the ward, of whom there were three or four. + +Letty regarded the newcomer with eyes that seemed lustreless in spite +of their tiny gold flames. Having a shrewd idea of what she would mean +to her visitor she felt it unnecessary to express gratitude. In a +certain sense she hated her at sight. She hated her bugles and braid +and the shape of her bonnet, as the criminal about to be put to death +might hate the executioner's mask and gaberdine. The more Miss Towell +was sweet-spoken and respectable, the more Letty shrank from these +tokens of hypocrisy in one who was wicked to the core. "She wouldn't +seem so wicked, not at first," Steptoe had predicted, "but time'd +tell." Well, Letty didn't need time to tell, since she could see for +herself already. She could see from the first words addressed to her. + +"You needn't tell me anything about yourself, dear, that you don't +want me to know. If you're without a place to go to, I shall be glad +if you'll come home with me." + +It was the invitation Letty had expected, and to which she meant to +respond. Knowing, however, what was behind it she replied more +ungraciously than she would otherwise have done. "Oh, I don't mind +talking about myself. I'm a picture-actress, only I've been out of a +job. I haven't worked for over six months. I've been--I've been +visiting." + +Miss Towell lowered her eyes, and spoke with modesty. "I suppose you +were visiting people who knew--who knew the person who--who gave you +my address and the thimble?" + +This question being more direct than she cared for Letty was careful +to answer no more than, "Yes." + +Miss Towell continued to sit with eyes downcast, and as if musing. Two +or three minutes went by before she said, softly: "How is he?" + +Letty replied that he was very well, and in the same place where he +had been so long. Another interval of musing was followed by the +simple statement: "We differed about religion." + +This remark had no modifying effect on Letty's estimate of Miss +Towell's character, since religion was little more to her than a word. +Neither was she interested in dead romance between Steptoe and Miss +Towell, all romance being summed up in her prince. That flame burned +with a pure and single purpose to wed him to the princess with whom he +was in love, while the little mermaid became first foam, and then a +spirit of the air. It took little from the poetry of this dissolution +that it could be achieved only by trundling over Brooklyn Bridge, and +through a nexus of dreary streets. In Letty's outlook on her mission +the end glorified the means, however shady or degraded. + +It was precisely this spirit--mistaken, if you choose to call it +so--which animated Judith of Bethulia, Monna Vanna, and Boule de Suif. +Letty didn't class herself with these heroines; she only felt as they +did, that there was something to be done. On that something a man's +happiness depended; on it another woman's happiness depended too; on +it her own happiness depended, since if it wasn't done she would feel +herself a clog to be cursed. To be cursed by the prince would mean +anguish far more terrible than any punishment society could mete out +to her. + +"If you feel equal to it we might go now, dear," Miss Towell +suggested, on waking from her dreams of what might have been. "I wish +I could take you in a taxi; but I daresay you won't mind the tram." + +Letty rose briskly. "No, I shan't mind it at all." She looked Miss +Towell significantly in the eyes, hoping that her words would carry +all the meaning she was putting into them. "I shan't mind--anything +you want me to do, no matter what." + +Miss Towell smiled, sweetly. "Thank you, dear. That'll be very nice. I +shan't ask you to do much, because it's your problem, you know, and +you must work it out. I'll stand by; but standing by is about all we +can do for each other, when problems have to be faced. Don't you think +it is?" + +As this language meant nothing to Letty, she thanked the nurse, smiled +at the other patients, and, trudging at Miss Towell's side with her +quaintly sturdy grace, went forth to her great sacrifice. + + * * * * * + +Allerton had drawn from his conversation with Barbara this one +practical suggestion. As he had months before consulted his lawyer, +Mr. Nailes, as to ways of losing Letty after she had been found, he +might consult him as to ways of finding her now that she had been +lost. Mr. Nailes would not go to the police. He would apply to some +discreet house of detectives who would do the work discreetly. + +"Then, I presume, you've changed your mind about this marriage," was +Mr. Nailes' not unnatural inference, "and mean to go on with it." + +"N-not exactly." Allerton was still unable to define his intentions. +"I only don't want her to disappear--like this." + +Mr. Nailes pondered. He was a tall, raw-boned man, of raw-boned +countenance, to whom the law represented no system of divine justice, +but a means by which Eugene Nailes could make money, as his father had +made it before him. Having inherited his father's practice he had +inherited Rashleigh Allerton, the two fathers having had a +long-standing business connection. Mr. Nailes had no high opinion of +Rashleigh Allerton--in which he was not peculiar--but a client with so +much money was entitled to his way. At the same time he couldn't have +been human without urging a point of common sense. + +"If you _don't_ want to--to continue your--your relation with +this--this lady, doesn't it strike you that now might be a happy +opportunity----?" + +Allerton did what he did rarely; he struck the table with his fist. "I +want to find her." + +The words were spoken with so much force that to Mr. Nailes they were +conclusive. It was far from his intention to compel anyone to common +sense, and least of all a man whose folly might bring increased fees +to the firm of Nailes, Nailes, and Nailes. + +It was agreed that steps should be taken at once, and that Mr. Nailes +would report in the evening. Gravely was the name Allerton was sure +she would use, and the only one that needed to be mentioned. It needed +only to be mentioned too that Mr. Nailes was acting for a client who +preferred to remain anonymous. + +It was further agreed that Mr. Nailes should report at Allerton's +office at ten that evening, in person if there was anything to +discuss, by telephone if there was nothing. This was convenient for +Mr. Nailes, who lived in the neighborhood of Washington Square, while +it protected Rash from household curiosity. At ten that night he was, +therefore, in the unusual position of pacing the rooms he had hardly +ever seen except by daylight. + +Not Letty's disappearance was uppermost in his mind, for the moment, +but his own inhibitions. + +"My God, what's the matter with me?" he was muttering to himself. "Am +I going insane? Have I been insane all along? Why _can't_ I say which +of these two women I want, when I can have either?" + +He placed over against each other the special set of spells which each +threw upon his heart. + +Barbara was of his own world; she knew the people he knew; she had the +same interests, and the same way of showing them. Moreover, she had in +a measure grown into his life. Their friendship was not only intimate +it was one of long standing. Though she worried, hectored, and +exasperated him, she had fits of generous repentance, in which she +mothered him adorably. This double-harness of comradeship had worked +for so many years that he couldn't imagine wearing it with another. + +And yet Letty pulled so piteously at his heart that he fairly melted +in tenderness toward her. Everything he knew as appeal was summed up +in her soft voice, her gentle manner, her humility, her unquestioning +faith in himself. No one had ever had faith in him before. To Barbe he +was a booby when he was not a baby. To Letty he was a hero, strong, +wise, commanding. It wasn't merely his vanity that she touched; it was +his manliness. Barbe suppressed his manliness, because she herself was +so imperious. Letty depended on it, and therefore drew it out. Because +she believed him a man, he could be a man; whereas with Barbe, as with +everyone else, he was a creature to be liked, humored, laughed at, and +good-naturedly despised. He was sick of being liked, humored, and +laughed at; he rebelled with every atom in him that was masculine at +being good-naturedly despised. To find anyone who thought him big and +vigorous was to his starved spirit, as the psalmist says, sweeter also +than honey and the honeycomb. In having her weakness to hold up he +could for the first time in his life feel himself of use. + +If there was no Barbe in the world he could have taken Letty as the +mate his soul was longing for. Yet how could he deal such a blow at +Barbe's loyalty? She had protected him during all his life, from +boyhood upwards. Between him and derision she had stood like a young +lioness. How could he deny her now?--no matter what frail, gentle +hands were clinging around his heart? + +"How can I? How can I? How can I?" + +He was torturing himself with this question when the telephone rang, +and he knew that Letty had not been found. + +"No; nothing," were the words of Mr. Nailes. "No one of the name has +been reported at any of the hospitals, or police stations, or any +other public institution. They've applied at all the motion-picture +studios round New York; but still with no result. This, of course, is +only the preliminary search, as much as they've been able to +accomplish in one afternoon and evening. You mustn't be disappointed. +To-morrow is likely to be more successful." + +Rash was, therefore, thrown back on another phase of his situation. +Letty was lost. She was not only lost, but she had run away from him. +She had not only run away from him, but she had done it so that he +might be rid of her. She had not only done it so that he might be rid +of her, but.... + +His spirit balked. His imagination could work no further. Horror +staggered him. A mother who knows that her child is in the hands of +kidnappers who will have no mercy might feel something like the +despair and helplessness which sent him chafing and champing up and +down the suite of rooms, cursing himself uselessly. + +Suddenly he paused. He was in front of the cabinet which had come via +Bordentown from Queen Caroline Murat. Behind its closed door there was +still the bottle on the label of which a kilted Highlander was +dancing. He must have a refuge from his thoughts, or else he would go +mad. He was already as near madness as a man could come and still be +reckoned sane. + +He opened the door of the cabinet. The bottle and the glass stood +exactly where he had placed them on that morning when he had tried to +begin going to the devil, and had failed. Now there was no longer that +same mysterious restraint. He was not thinking of the devil; he was +thinking only of himself. He must still the working of his mind. +Anything would do that would drug his faculties, and so.... + +It was after midnight when he dragged himself out of a stupor which +had not been sleep. Being stupor, however, it was that much to the +good. He had stopped thinking. He couldn't think. His head didn't +ache; it was merely sore. He might have been dashing it against the +wall, as figuratively he had done. His body was sore too--stiff from +long sitting in the same posture, and bruised as if from beating. All +that was nothing, however, since misery only stunned him. To be +stunned was what he had been working for. + +Out in the air the wind of the May night was comforting. It soothed +his nerves without waking the dormant brain. Instead of looking for a +taxi he began walking up the Avenue. Walking too was a relief. It +allowed him to remain as stupefied as at first, and yet stirred the +circulation in his limbs. He meant to walk till he grew tired, after +which he would jump on an electric bus. + +But he did not grow tired. He passed the great milestones, Fourteenth +Street, Twenty-third Street, Forty-second Street, Fifty-ninth Street, +and not till crossing the last did he begin to feel fagged. He was +then so near home that the impulse of doggedness kept him on foot. He +was a strong walker, and physically in good condition, without being +wholly robust. Had it not been for the kilted Highlander he would +hardly have felt fatigue; but as it was, the corner of East +Sixty-seventh Street found him as spent as he cared to be. + +Advancing toward his door he saw a man coming in the other direction. +There was nothing in that, and he would scarcely have noticed him, +only for the fact that at this hour of the night pedestrians in the +quarter were rare. In addition to that the man, having reached the +foot of Allerton's own steps, stood there waiting, as if with +intention. + +Through the obscurity Rash could see only that the man was well built, +flashily dressed, and that he wore a sweeping mustache. In his manner +of standing and waiting there was something significant and menacing. +Arrived at the foot of the steps Allerton could do no less than pause +to ask if the stranger was looking for anyone. + +"Is your name Allerton?" + +"Yes; it is." + +"Then I want my girl." + +It was some seconds before Rash could get his dulled mind into play. +Moreover, the encounter was of a kind which made him feel sick and +disgusted. + +"Whom do you mean?" he managed to ask, at last. + +"You know very well who I mean. I mean Letty Gravely. I'm her father; +and by God, if you don't give her up--with big damages----" + +"I can't give her up, because she's not here." + +"Not here? She was damn well here the day before yesterday." + +"Yes; she was here the day before yesterday; but she disappeared last +night." + +"Ah, cut that kind o' talk. I'm wise, I am. You can't put that bunk +over on me. She's in there, and I'm goin' to get her." + +"I wish she was in there; but she's not." + +"How do I know she's not?" + +"I'm afraid you'll have to take my word for it." + +"Like hell I'll take your word for it. I'm goin' to see for myself." + +"I don't see how you're going to do that." + +"I'm goin' in with you." + +"That wouldn't do you any good. Besides, I can't let you." + +The man became more bullying. "See here, son. This game is my game. +Did j'ever see a thing like this?" + +Watching the movement of his hand Rash saw the handle of a revolver +displayed in a side pocket. + +"Yes, I've seen a thing like that; but even if it was loaded--which I +don't believe it is--you've too much sense to use it. You might shoot +me, of course; but you wouldn't find the girl in the house, because +she isn't there." + +"Well, I'm goin' to see. You march. Up you go, and open that door, and +I'll follow you." + +"Oh, no, you won't." Allerton looked round for the policeman who +occasionally passed that way; but though a lighted car crashed down +Madison Avenue there was no one in sight. He might have called in the +hope of waking the men upstairs, but that seemed cowardly. Though in a +physical encounter with a ruffian like this he could hardly help +getting the worst of it--especially in his state of half +intoxication--it was the encounter itself that he loathed, even more +than the defeat. "Oh, no, you won't," he repeated, taking one step +upward, and turning to defend his premises. "I don't mean that you +shall come into this house, or ever see the girl again, if I can +prevent it." + +"Oh, you don't, don't you?" + +"No, I don't." + +"Then take that." + +The words were so quickly spoken, and the blow in his face so +unexpected, that Rash staggered backwards. Being on a step he had +little or no footing, and having been drinking his balance was the +more quickly lost. + +"And that!" + +A second blow in the face sent him down like a stone, without a +struggle or a cry. + +He fell limply on his back, his feet slipping to the sidewalk, his +body sagging on the steps like a bit of string, accidentally dropped +there. The hat, which fell off, remained on the step beside the head +it had been covering. + +The man leaped backward, as if surprised at his own deed. He looked +this way and that, to see if he had been observed. A lighted car +crashed up Madison Avenue, but otherwise the street remained empty. +Creeping nearer the steps he bent over his victim, whose left hand lay +helpless and outstretched. Timidly, gingerly, he put his fingers to +the pulse, starting back from it with a shock. He spoke but two words, +but he spoke them half aloud. + +"Dead! God!" + +Then he walked swiftly away into Madison Avenue, where he soon found a +car going southward. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + + +Barbara was late for breakfast. Miss Walbrook, the aunt, was scanning +the morning paper, her refined, austere Americanism being as +noticeable in the dining-room as elsewhere in the house. Everything +was slender and strong; everything was American, unless it was the +Persian rug. On the paneled walls there were but three portraits, a +Boston ancestress, in lace cap and satins, painted by Copley; a +Philadelphia ancestor in the Continental uniform, painted by Gilbert +Stuart; and her New York grandmother, painted by Thomas Sully, looking +over her shoulder with the wild backward glance that artist gives to +the girl Victoria in the Metropolitan Museum. In a flat cabinet along +a wall was the largest collection of old American glass to be found in +the country. + +Barbara rushed in, with apologies for being late. "I didn't sleep a +wink. It doesn't seem to me as if I should ever sleep again. Where's +my cup?" + +"Wildgoose will bring it. As the coffee had grown cold he took that +and the cup to keep warm. What's the matter?" + +Wildgoose stepped in with the missing essentials. A full-fed, +round-faced, rubicund man of fifty-odd he looked a perennial +twenty-five. Barbara began to minister to herself. + +"Oh, everything's the matter. I told you yesterday that that girl had +run away. Well, I begin to wish she'd run back again." + +Miss Walbrook, the elder, had this in common with Miss Henrietta +Towell, that she believed it best for everyone to work out his own +salvation. Barbara had her personal life to live, and while her aunt +would help her to live it, she wouldn't guide her choice. She +continued, therefore, to scan the paper till her niece should say +something more. + +She said it, not because she wanted to give information, but because +she was temperamentally outspoken. "I begin to wish there were no men +in the world. If women are men in a higher stage of development, why +didn't men die out, so that we could be rid of them? Isn't that what +we generally get from the survival of the fittest?" + +Miss Walbrook's thin, clear smile suggested the edge of a keenly +tempered blade. "I've never said that women were men in a higher stage +of development. I've said that in their parallel states of development +women had advanced a stage beyond men. You may say of every generation +born that women begin where men leave off. I suppose that that's +what's meant by the myth of Eve springing from Adam's side. It was to +be noticed even then, in the prehistoric, in the age that formed the +great legends. Adam was asleep, when Eve as a vital force leaped away +from him. If it wasn't for Eve's vitality the human race would still +be in the Stone Age." + +Barbara harked back to what for her was the practical. "Some of us are +in the Stone Age as it is. I'm sure Rash Allerton is as nearly an +elemental as one can be, and still belong to clubs and drive in +motorcars." + +Miss Walbrook risked her principles of non-interference so far as to +say: "It's part of our feminine lack of development that we're always +inclined to look back on the elemental with pity, and even with +regret. The woman was never born who didn't have in her something of +Lot's wife." + +"Thank you, Aunt Marion. In a way that lets me out. If I'm no weaker +than the rest of my sex----" + +"Than many of the rest of your sex." + +"Very well, then; than many of the rest of my sex; if I'm no weaker +than that I don't have to lose my self-respect." + +"You don't have to lose your self-respect; you only risk--your +reason." + +Barbara stared at her. "That's the very thing I'm afraid of. I'd give +anything for peace of mind. How did you know?" + +"Oh, it doesn't call for much astuteness. I don't suppose there's a +married woman in the world in full command of her wits. You've noticed +how foolish most of them are. That's why. It isn't that they were born +foolish. They've simply been addled by enforced adaptation to mates of +lower intelligence. Oh, I'm not scolding. I'm merely stating a +natural, observed, psychological fact. The woman who marries says +good-bye to the orderly working of her faculties. For that she may get +compensations, with which I don't intend to find fault. But +compensations or no, to a clear-thinking woman like----" + +"Like yourself, Aunt Marion." + +"Very well; like myself, if you will; but to a clear-thinking woman +it's as obvious as daylight that her married sisters are partially +demented. They may not know it; the partially demented never do. And +it's no good telling them, because they don't believe you. I'm only +saying it to you to warn you in advance. If you part with your reason, +it's something to know that you do it of your own free will." + +Once more Barbara confined herself to the case in hand. "Still, I +don't believe every man is as trying as Rash Allerton." + +"Not in his particular way, perhaps. But if it's not in one way then +it's in another." + +"Even he wouldn't be so bad if he could control himself. At the minute +when he's tearing down the house he wants you to tell him that he's +calm." + +"If he didn't want you to tell him that it would be something equally +preposterous. There's little to choose between men." + +Barbara grew thoughtful. "Still, if people didn't marry the human race +would die out." + +"And would there be any harm in that? It's not a danger, of course; +but if it was, would anyone in his senses want to stop it? Looking +round on the human race to-day one can hardly help saying that the +sooner it dies out the better. Since we can't kill it off, it's well +to remember----" + +"To remember what, Aunt Marion?" + +Miss Walbrook reflected as to how to express herself cautiously. +"To remember that--in marrying--and having children--children who +will have to face the highly probable miseries of the next +generation--Well, I'm glad there'll be no one to reproach me with his +being in the world, either as his mother or his ancestress." + +"They say Rash's father and mother didn't want _him_ in the world, and +I sometimes wish they'd had their way. If he wasn't here--or if he was +dead--I believe I could be happier. I shouldn't be forever worrying +about him. I shouldn't have him on my mind. I often wonder if it's--if +it's love I feel for him--or only an agonizing sense of +responsibility." + +The door being open Walter Wildgoose waddled to the threshold, where +he stood with his right hand clasped in his left. "Mr. Steptoe at Mr. +Allerton's to speak to Miss Barbara on the telyphone, please." + +Barbara gasped. "Oh, Lord! I wonder what it is now!" + +Left to herself Miss Walbrook resumed her scanning of the paper, but +she resumed it with the faintest quiver of a smile on her thin, +cleanly-cut lips. It was the kind of smile which indicates patient +hope, or the anticipation of something satisfactory. + +"Oh!" + +The exclamation was so loud as to be heard all the way from the +telephone, which was in another part of the house. Miss Walbrook let +the paper fall, sat bolt upright, and listened. + +"Oh! Oh!" + +It was like a second, and repeated, explosion. Miss Walbrook rose to +her feet; the paper rustled to the floor. + +"Oh! Oh!" + +The sound was that which human beings make when the thing told them is +more than they can bear. Barbara cried out as if someone was beating +her with clubs, and she was coming to her knees. + +She was not coming to her knees. When her aunt reached her she was +still standing by the little table in the hall which held the +telephone, on which she had hung up the receiver. She supported +herself with one hand on the table, as a woman does when all she can +do is not to fall senseless. + +"It's--it's Rash," she panted, as she saw her aunt appear. "Somebody +has--has killed him." + +Miss Walbrook stood with hands clasped, like one transfixed. "He's +dead?--after all?" + +Barbara nodded, tearlessly. She could stammer out the words, but no +more. "Yes--all but!" + + * * * * * + +In the flat at Red Point there was another and dissimilar breakfast +scene. For the first time in her life Letty was having coffee and +toast in bed. The window was open, and between the muslin curtains, +which puffed in the soft May wind, she could see the ocean with +steamers and ships on it. + +The room was tiny, but it was spotless. Everything was white, except +where here and there it was tied up with a baby-blue ribbon. Anything +that could be tied with a baby-blue ribbon was so tied. + +Letty thought she had never seen anything so dainty, though her +experienced eye could detect the fact that nothing had really cost +money. As an opening to the career on which she had embarked the +setting was unexpected, while the method of her treatment was +bewildering. In the black recesses of her heart Miss Henrietta Towell +might be hiding all those feline machinations which Mrs. Judson Flack +had led Letty to believe a part of the great world's stock-in-trade; +but it couldn't be denied that she hid them well. Letty didn't know +what to make of it. "There's quite a trick to it," Steptoe had warned +her; but the explanation seemed inadequate to the phenomena. + +Sipping her coffee and crunching her toast she was driven to ponder on +the ways of wickedness. She had expected them to be more obvious. All +her information was to the effect that an unprotected girl in a world +of males was a lamb among lions, a victim with no way of escape. That +she was a lamb among lions, and a victim with no way of escape, she +was still prepared to believe; only the preliminaries puzzled her. +Instead of being crude, direct, indelicate, they were subtle and +misleading. After twenty-four hours in Miss Towell's spare room there +was still no hint of anything but coddling. + +"You see, my dear," Miss Towell had said, "if I don't nurse you back +to real 'ealth, him that gave you the thimble might be displeased with +me." + +It was not often that Miss Towell dropped an _h_ or added one; but in +moments of emotion early habit was too strong for her. + +Coming into the room now, on some ermine's errand of neatness, she +threw a glance at Letty, and said: "You don't _look_ like a Rashleigh, +do you, dear? But then you never can tell anything about families from +looks, can you?" + +It was her nearest approach as yet to the personal, and Letty +considered as to how she was to meet it. "I'm not a Rashleigh--not +really--only by--by marriage. Rashleigh isn't my real name. +It's--it's the name I'm going by in pictures." + +"Oh!" + +Miss Towell's exclamation was the subdued one of acquiescence. She +knew that ladies in pictures often preferred names other than their +own, and if Letty was not a Rashleigh it "explained things." That is, +it explained how anyone called Rashleigh could be wandering about in +this friendless way, though it made 'Enery Steptoe's intervention the +more mysterious. It was conceivable that he might act on behalf of a +genuine Rashleigh, however out at elbow; but that he should take such +pains for a spurious one, and go to the length of sending the sacred +silver thimble as a pledge, rendered the situation puzzling. + +Schooled by her religious precepts to taking her duties as those of a +minute at a time Miss Towell made no effort to force the girl's +confidence, and especially since Letty, like most young people in +trouble, was on her guard against giving it. So long as she preferred +to be shut up within herself, shut up within herself she should +remain. Miss Towell felt that, for the moment at least, her own +responsibility was limited to making the child feel that someone cared +for her. + +At the same time she couldn't have been a lonely woman with a +love-story behind her without the impulse to dwell a little longingly +on the one romantic incident in her experience. Though it had never +come to anything, the fact that it had once opened its shy little +flower made a sweet bright place to which her thoughts could retire. + +The references came spasmodically and without context, as the little +white lady busied herself in waiting on Letty or in the care of her +room. + +"I haven't seen him since a short time after the mistress went away." + +Letty felt herself coloring. Though not prudish there were words she +couldn't get used to. Besides which she had never thought that +Steptoe.... But Miss Towell pursued her memories. + +"It always worried him that I should hold views different from his but +I couldn't submit to dictation, now, could I, dear?" + +Once more Letty felt herself awkwardly placed. The only interpretation +she could put on Miss Towell's words referring to moral reformation on +her hostess's part she said, as non-committally as might be: "He's a +good deal of a stickler." + +"He's been so long in a high position that he becomes--well, I won't +be 'arsh--but he becomes a little harbitrary. That's where it was. He +was a little harbitrary. With a mistress who allowed him a great deal +of his own way--well, you can hardly blame him, can you, dear?" + +Letty forced herself to accept the linguistic standard of the world. +"I suppose if she hadn't allowed him a great deal of his own way he'd +have looked somewhere else." + +"That he could easily have done. He had temptations enough--a man like +him. Why, dear, there was a lady in Park Avenue did everything she +could that wasn't positively dishonorable to win him away----" + +"He must have been younger and better looking than he is now," Letty +hazarded, bluntly. + +"Oh, it wasn't a question of looks. Of course if she'd considered +that, why, any foolish young fellow--but she knew what she would have +got." + +Not being at her ease in this kind of conversation, and finding the +effort to see Steptoe as Lothario difficult, Letty became blunt again. +"He must have had an awful crush on the first one." + +"It wasn't her exactly; it was the boy." + +"Oh, there was a boy?" + +"Why of course, dear! Didn't you know that?" + +"Whose boy was it?" + +"Why, the mistress's boy; but I don't think _he_----" Letty understood +the pronoun as applying to Steptoe--"I don't think _he_ ever realized +that he wasn't his very own." Straightening the white cover on the +chest of drawers Miss Towell shook her head. "It was a sad case." + +"What made it sad?" + +"A lovely boy he was. Had a kind word for everyone, even for the cat. +But somehow his father and mother--well, they were people of the +world, and they hadn't wanted a child, and when he came--and he so +delicate always--I could have cried over him." + +Letty's heart began to swell; her lip trembled. "I know someone like +that myself." + +"Do you, dear? Then I'm sure you understand." + +Partly because the minute was emotional, and partly from a sense that +she needed to explain herself, Letty murmured, more or less +indistinctly: "It's on his account that I'm here." + +Failing to see the force of this Miss Towell was content to say: "I'm +glad you were led to me, dear. There's always a power to shepherd us +along, if we'll only let ourselves be guided." + +To Letty the moment had arrived when plainness of speech was +imperative. Leaning across the tray, which still stood on her lap, she +gazed up at her hostess with eager, misty eyes. "_He_ said you'd teach +me all the ropes." + +Miss Towell paused beside the bed, to look inquiringly at the tense +little face. "The ropes of what, dear?" + +"Of what--" it was hard to express--"of what you--you used to be +yourself. You don't seem like it now," she added, desperately, "but +you were, weren't you?" + +"Oh, that!" The surprise was in the discovery that an American girl of +Letty's age could entertain so sensible a purpose. "Why, of course, +dear! I'll tell you all I know, and welcome." + +"There's quite a trick to it, isn't there?" + +"Well, it's more than a trick. There are two or three things which you +simply _have_ to be." + +"Oh, I know that. That's what frightens me." + +"You needn't be afraid, once you've made up your mind to it." She +leaned above the bed to relieve Letty of the tray. "For instance--you +don't mind my asking questions do you?" + +"Oh, no! You can ask me anything." + +"Then the first thing is this: Are you pretty good as a +needle-woman?" + +Letty was astounded. "Why--why you don't have to _sew_, do you?" + +"Certainly, dear. That's one of the most important things you'd be +called on to do. You'd never get anywhere if you weren't quick with +your needle and thread. And then there'd be hair-dressing. You have to +know something about that. I don't say that you must be a +professional; but for the simpler occasions--after that there's +packing. That's something we often overlook, and where French girls +have us at a disadvantage. They pack so beautifully." + +Letty was entirely at sea. "Pack what?" + +"Pack trunks, dear." + +"What for?" + +"For travel; for moving from town to country; or from country to town; +or making visits; you see you're always on the go. Oh, it's more than +a trick; it's quite an art; only--" She smiled at Letty as she stood +holding the tray, before carrying it out--"only, I shouldn't have +supposed you'd be thinking of that when you act in moving pictures." + +"I--I thought I might do both." + +"Now, I should say that that's one thing you couldn't do, dear. If you +took up this at all you'd find it so absorbing----" + +"And you're very unhappy too, aren't you? I've always heard you +were." + +"Well, that would depend a good deal on yourself. There's nothing in +the thing itself to make you unhappy; but sometimes there are other +women----" + +Letty's eyes were flaming. "They say they're awful." + +"Oh, not always. It's a good deal as you carry yourself. I made it a +point to keep my position and respect the position of others. It +wasn't always easy, especially with Mary Ann Courage and Janie +Cakebread; but----" + +Letty's head fell back on the pillow. Her eyes closed. A +merry-go-round was spinning in her head. Where was she? How had she +come there? What was she there _for?_ Where was the wickedness she had +been told to look for everywhere? Having gone in search of it, and +expected to find it lying in wait from the first minute of passing the +protecting door, she had been shuffled along from one to another, with +exasperating kindness, only to be brought face to face with Jane +Cakebread and Mary Ann Courage at the end. + +Miss Towell having borne away the tray, Letty struggled out of bed, +and put on the woollen dressing gown thrown over a chair by the +bedside. This was no place for her. Beehive Valley was not far off, +and her forty-five cents would more than suffice to take her there. +She would see the casting director. She would get a job. With food to +eat and a place to sleep as a starting point she would find her own +way to wickedness, releasing the prince in spite of all the mishaps +which kept her as she was. + +But she trembled so that having wrapped the dressing gown about her +she was obliged to sit down again. She would have to be crafty. She +must get this woman to help her with her dressing, without suspecting +what she meant to do. How could she manage that? She must try to +think. + +She was trying to think when she heard the ring of the telephone. It +suggested an idea. Some time--not this time, of course--when the +telephone rang and the woman was answering it, she, Letty, would be +able to slip away. The important thing was to do her hair and get her +clothes on. + +"Yes?... Yes?" There was a little catch to the breath, a smothered +laugh, a smothered sigh. "Oh, so this is you!... Yes, I got it.... +Seeing it again gave me quite a turn.... I never expected that you'd +keep it all this time, but.... Yes, she's here.... No; she didn't come +exactly of her own accord, but I--I found her.... I could tell you +about it easier if you were--it's so hard on the telephone when +there's so much to say--but perhaps you don't care to.... Yes, she's +quite well--only a little tired--been worked up somehow--but a day or +so in bed.... Oh, very sensible ... and she wants me to teach her how +to be a lady's maid...." + +So that was it! Steptoe had been treacherous. Letty would never +believe in anyone again. She could make these reflections hurriedly +because the voice at the telephone was silent. + +"Oh!" + +It was the same exclamation as that of Barbara Walbrook, but in +another tone--a tone of distress, sharp, sympathetic. Pulling the +dressing gown about her, frightened, tense, Letty knew that something +had gone wrong. + +"Oh! Oh!... last night, did you say?... early this morning...." + +Letty crept to where her hostess was seated at the telephone. "What is +it?" + +But Miss Towell either didn't hear the question or was too absorbed to +answer it. "Oh, 'Enery, _try_ to remember that God is his life--that +there can be no death to be afraid of when----" + +Letty snatched the receiver from the other woman's hands, and fell on +her knees beside the little table. "Oh, what is it? What is it? It's +me; Letty! Something's happened. I've got to know." + +Amazed and awed by the force of this intrusion Miss Towell stood up, +and moved a little back. + +Over the wire Steptoe's voice sounded to Letty like the ghost of his +voice, broken, dead. + +"I think if I was madam I'd come back." + +"But what's happened? Tell me that first." + +"It's Mr. Rash." + +"Yes, I know it's Mr. Rash. But what is it? Tell me quickly, for God's +sake." + +"'E's been 'it." + +Her utterance was as nearly as possible a cry. "But he hasn't been +_killed_?" + +"Madam'd find 'im alive--if she 'urried." + +When Letty rose from her knees she was strong. She was calm, too, and +competent. She further surprised Miss Towell by the way in which she +took command. + +"I must hurry. They want me at once. Would you mind helping me to +dress?" + + + + +Chapter XXV + + +"The queer thing about it, miss," Steptoe was saying to Barbara, "is +that I didn't 'ear no noise. My winder is just above the front door, +two floors up, and it was open. I always likes an open winder, +especially when the weather begins to get warm--makes it 'ealthier +like, and so----" + +"Yes, but tell me just how he is." + +"That's what I'm comin' to, miss. The minute I see what an awful styte +we was in, I says, Miss Walbrook, she'll 'ave to know, I says; and so +I called up. Well, as I was a-tellin you, miss, I couldn't sleep all +night, 'ardly not any, thinkin of all what 'ad 'appened in the 'ouse, +in the course of a few months, as you might sye--and madam run +awye--and Mr. Rash 'e not 'ome--and it one o'clock and lyter. Not but +what 'e's often lyter than that, only last night I 'ad that kind of a +feelin' which you'll get when you know things is not right, and you +don't 'ardly know 'ow you know it." + +"Yes, Steptoe," she interposed, eagerly; "but is he conscious now? +That's what I want to hear about." + +Steptoe's expression of grief lay in working up to a dramatic climax +dramatically. He didn't understand the hurried leaps and bounds by +which you took the tragic on the skip, as if it were not portentous. +In his response to Miss Walbrook there was a hint of irritation, and +perhaps of rebuke. + +"I couldn't sye what 'e is now, miss, as the doctor and the nurse is +with 'im, and won't let nobody in till they decides whether 'e's to +live or die." Rocking himself back and forth in his chair he moaned in +stricken anticipation. "If 'e goes, I shan't be long after 'im. I may +linger a bit, but the good Lord won't move me on too soon." + +Barbara curbed her impatience to reach the end, going back to the +beginning. "Well, then, was it you who found 'im?" + +"It was this wye, miss. Knowin' 'e wasn't in the 'ouse, I kep' goin' +to my winder and listenin'--and then goin' back to bed agyne--I +couldn't tell you 'ow many times; and then, if you'd believe it I must +'ave fell asleep. No; I can't believe as I was asleep. I just seemed +to come to, like, and as I laid there wonderin' what time it was, +seems to me as if I 'eard a kind of a snore, like, not in the 'ouse, +but comin' up from the street." + +"What time was that?" + +"That'd be about 'alf past one. Well, up I gets and creeps to the +winder, and sure enough the snore come right up from the steps. Seems +to me, too, I could see somethink layin' there, all up and down the +steps, just as if it 'ad been dropped by haccident like. My blood +freezes. I slips into my thick dressin' gown--no, it was my thin +dressin' gown--I always keeps two--one for winter and one for +summer--and this spring bein' so early like----" + +"But in the end you got down stairs." + +"If I didn't, miss, 'ow could I 'a' found 'im? I ain't one to be +afryde of dynger, not even 'ere in New York, where you can be robbed +and murdered without 'ardly knowin' it--and the police that slow about +follerin' up a clue----" + +"And what happened when you'd opened the front door?" + +"I didn't open it at once, miss. I put my hear to the crack and +listened. And there it was, a long kind of snore, like--only it wasn't +just what you'd call a snore. It was more like this." He drew a deep, +rasping, stertorous breath. "Awful, it was, miss, just like somebody +in liquor. 'It's liquor,' I says, and not wantin' to be mixed up in no +low company I wasn't for openin' the door at all----" + +"But you did?" + +"Not till I'd gone 'alf wye upstairs and down agyne. I'm like that. I +often thinks I'll not do a thing, and then I'll sye to myself, 'Now, +perhaps I'd better, and so it was that time. 'E's out, I says, and who +knows but what 'e's fell in a fynt like?' So back I goes, and I peeps +out a little bit--just my nose out, as you might sye, not knowin' but +what if there was low company----" + +"When did you find out who it was?" + +"I knowed the 'at, like. It was that 'at what 'e bought afore 'e +bought the last one. No; I don't know but what 'e's bought two since +'e bought that one--a soft felt, and a cowboy what he never wore but +once or twice because it wasn't becomin'. You'll 'ave noticed, miss, +that 'e 'ad one o' them fyces what don't look well in nothink +rakish--a real gentleman's fyce 'e 'ad--and them cowboy 'ats----" + +"Well, when you saw that hat, what did you do?" + +"For quite a spell I didn't do nothink. I was all blood-curdled, as +you might sye. But by and by I creeps out, and down the steps, and +there 'e was, all 'uddled every wye----" + +His lip trembled. In trying to go on he produced only a few incoherent +sounds. Reaching for his handkerchief, he blew his nose, before being +able to say more. + +"Well, the first thing I says to myself, miss, was, Is 'e dead? It was +a terrible thing to sye of one that's everythink in the world to me; +but seein' 'im there, all crumpled up, with one leg one wye, and the +other leg another wye, and a harm throwed out 'elpless like--well, +what was I to think? miss--and 'im not aible to sye a word, and me +shykin' like a leaf, and out of doors in my thin dressin' gown--if I'd +'ad on my thick one I wouldn't 'a' felt so kind of shymeful like----" + +"You might have known he wasn't dead when you heard him breathing." + +"I didn't think o' that. I thought as 'e was. And when I see 'is poor +harm stretched out so wild like I creeps nearer and nearer, and me +'ardly aible to move--I felt so bad--and I puts my finger on 'is +pulse. Might as well 'ave put it on that there fender. Then I looks at +'is fyce and I see blood on 'is lip and 'is cheek. 'Somethink's struck +'im,' I says; and then I just loses consciousness, and puts back my +'ead, as you'll see a dog do when 'e 'owls, and I yells, 'Police!'" + +"Oh, you did that, did you?" + +"I'm ashymed to sye it, miss, but I did; and who should come runnin' +along but the policeman what in the night goes up and down our beat. +By that time I'd got my 'and on 'is 'eart, and the policeman 'e calls +out from a distance, 'Hi, there! What you doin' to that man?' Thought +I was murderin' 'im, you see. I says, 'My boy, 'e is, and I'm tryin' +to syve 'is life.' Well, the policeman 'e sees I'm in my dressin' +gown, and don't look as if I'd do 'im any 'arm, so 'e kind o' picks up +'is courage, and blows 'is whistle, and another policeman 'e runs up +from the wye of the Havenue. Then when there's two of 'em they ain't +afryde no more, so that the first one 'e comes up to me quite bold +like, and arsks me who's killed, and what's killed 'im, and I tells +'im 'ow I was layin' awyke, with the winder open, and Mr. Rash bein' +out I couldn't sleep like----" + +"How long did they let him lie there?" + +"Oh, not long. First they was for callin' a hambulance; but when I +tells 'em that 'e's my boy, and lives in my 'ouse, they brings 'im in +and we lays 'im on the sofa in the libery, and I rings up Dr. Lancing, +and----" + +But something in Barbara snapped. She could stand no more. Not to cry +out or break down she sprang to her feet. "That'll do, Steptoe. I know +now all I need to know. Thank you for telling me. I shall stay here +till the doctor or the nurse comes down. If I want you again I'll +ring." + +[Illustration: "BUT BY AND BY I CREEPS OUT AND DOWN THE STEPS, AND THERE +'E WAS, ALL 'UDDLED EVERY WYE."] + +Lashing up and down the drawing-room, wringing her hands and moaning +inwardly, Barbara reflected on the speed with which Nemesis had +overtaken her. "If he wasn't here--or if he was dead," she had said, +"I believe I could be happier." As long as she lived she would hear +the curious intonation in Aunt Marion's voice: "He's dead?--after +all?" It was in that _after all_ that she read the unspeakable +accusation of herself. + +Waiting for the doctor was not long. On hearing his step on the stair +Barbara went out to meet him. "How is he?" she asked, without wasting +time over self-introductions. + +"It's a little difficult to say as yet. The case is serious. Just how +serious we can't tell to-day--perhaps not to-morrow. I find no trace +of fracture of the cranium, or of laceration of the brain; but it's +too soon to be sure. Dr. Brace and Dr. Wisdom, who've both been here, +are inclined to think that it may be no more than a simple concussion. +We must wait and see." + +Relieved to this extent Barbara went on to explain herself. "I'm Miss +Walbrook. I was engaged to Mr. Allerton till--till quite recently. +We're still great friends--the greatest friends. He had no near +relations--only cousins--and I doubt if any of them are in New York as +late in the season as this--and even if they are he hardly knows +them----" + +The doctor, a cheery, robust man in the late thirties, in his own line +one of the ablest specialists in New York, had a foible for social +position and his success in it. Even now, with such grave news to +communicate, he couldn't divest himself of his dinner-party manner or +his smile. + +"I've had the pleasure of meeting Miss Walbrook, at the Essingtons' +dinner--the big one for Isabel--and afterwards at the dance." + +"Oh, of course," Barbara corroborated, though with no recollection of +the encounter. "I knew it was somewhere, but I couldn't quite +recall--So I felt, when the butler called me up, that I should be +here----" + +"Quite so! quite so! You'll find Miss Gallifer, who's with him now, a +most competent nurse, and I shall bring a good night nurse before +evening." The professional side of the situation disposed of, he +touched tactfully on the romantic. "It will be a great thing for me to +know that in a masculine household like this a woman with knowledge +and authority is running in and out. The more you can be here, Miss +Walbrook, the more responsibility you'll take off my hands." + +"May I be in his room--and help the nurse--or do anything like that?" + +"Quite so! quite so! I'm sure Miss Gallifer, who can't be there every +minute of the time, you understand, will be glad to feel that there's +someone she can trust----" + +"And he couldn't know I was there?" + +"Not unless he returned unexpectedly to consciousness, which is +possible, you understand----" + +Her distress was so great that she hazarded a question on which she +would not otherwise have ventured. "Doctor, you're a physician. I can +speak to you as I shouldn't speak to everyone. Suppose he did return +unexpectedly to consciousness, and found me there in the room, do you +think he'd be--annoyed?" + +It was the sort of situation he liked, a part in the intimate affairs +of people of the first quality. "As to his being annoyed I can't say. +It might be the very opposite. What I know is this, that in the +coming back of the mind to its regular functions inhibitions are +often suspended----" + +"And you mean by that----?" + +"That the first few minutes in which the mind revives are likely to be +minutes of genuine reality. I don't say that the mind could keep it +up. Very few of us can be our genuine selves for more than flashes at +a time; but a returning consciousness doesn't put on its inhibitions +till----" + +"So that what you see in those few minutes you can take as the +truth." + +"I should say so. I'm not in a position to affirm it; but the +probabilities point that way." + +"And if there had been, let us say, a lesser affection, something of +recent origin, and lower in every way----" + +"I think that until it forged its influence again--if it ever +did--you'd see it forgotten or disowned." + +She tried to be even more explicit. "He's perfectly free, in every +way. I broke off my engagement just to make him free. The--the other +woman, she, too, has--has left him----" + +"So that," he summed up, "if in those first instants of returning to +the world you could read his choice you'd be relieved of doubts for +the future." + +Having made one or two small professional recommendations he was about +to go when Barbara's mind worked to another point. "You know, he's +been very excitable." + +"So I've understood. I go a good deal to the Chancellors'. You know +them, of course. I've heard about him there." + +"Well, then, if he got better, is there anything we could do about +that?" + +"In a general way, yes. If you're gentle with him----" + +"Oh, I am." + +"And if you try to smooth him down when you see him beginning to be +ruffled----" + +"That's just what I do, only it seems to excite him the more." + +"Then, in that case, I should say, break the conversation off. Go away +from him. Let him alone. Let him work out of it. Begin again later." + +"Ye-es, only--" she was wistful, unconvinced--"only later it's so +likely to be the same thing over again." + +He dodged the further issue by running up to explain to the nurse Miss +Walbrook's position in the house, and as helper in case of necessity. +By the time he had come down again Barbara's anguish was visible. "Oh, +doctor, you think he _will_ get better, don't you?" + +He was at the front door. "I hope he will. Quite--quite possibly he +will. His pulse isn't very strong as yet, but--Well, Dr. Brace and Dr. +Wisdom are coming for another consultation this afternoon; only his +condition, you understand, is--well, serious." + +Barbara divined the malice beneath Steptoe's indications, as he +conducted her upstairs. "That was the lyte Mrs. Allerton's room; +that's the front spare room; and that's our present madam's room--when +she's 'ere--heach with its barth. I'm sure if Miss Walbrook was +inclined to use the front spare room I'd be entirely welcome, and +'ave put in clean towels, and everythink, a-purpose." + +When Rash's door was pointed out to her she tapped. Miss Gallifer +opened it, receiving her colleague with a great big hearty smile. +Great, big, and hearty were the traits by which Miss Gallifer was +known among the doctors. Healthy, skilful, jolly, and offhand, she +carried the issues of life and death, in which she was at home, with a +lightness which made her easy to work with. Some nurses would have +resented the intrusion of an outsider--professionally speaking--like +Miss Walbrook; but to Miss Gallifer it was the more the merrier, even +in the sickroom. The very fact of coming to close quarters with the +type she knew as a "society girl" added spice to the association. + +For the first few seconds Barbara found her breeziness a shock. She +had expected something subdued, hushed, funereal. Miss Gallifer hardly +lowered her voice, which was naturally loud, or quieted her manner, +which, when off duty, could be boisterous. It was not boisterous now, +of course; only quick, free, spontaneous. Then Barbara saw the +reason. + +There was no need to lower the voice or quiet the manner or soften the +swish of rustling to and fro, in presence of that still white form +composed in the very attitude of death. If Barbara hadn't known he was +alive she wouldn't have supposed it. She had seen dead men before--her +father, two brothers, other relatives. They looked like this; this +looked like them. She said _this_ to herself, and not _he_, because it +seemed the word. + +But by the time she had moved forward and was standing by the bed Miss +Gallifer's businesslike tone became a comfort. You couldn't take such +a tone if you thought there was danger; and in spite of the hemming +and hawing of the doctors Miss Gallifer didn't think there was. + +"Oh, I've seen lots of such cases, and _I_ say it's a simple +concussion. Old Wisdom, he doesn't know anything. I wouldn't consult +him about an accident to a cat. Laceration of the brain is always his +first diagnosis; and if the patient didn't have it he'd get it to him +before he'd admit that he was wrong." + +Barbara put the question in which all her other questions were +enfolded. "Then you think he'll get better?" + +"I shouldn't be surprised." + +"Would you be surprised--the other way?" + +"I think I should--on the whole. Pulse is poor. That's the worst +sign." She picked up the hand lying outside the coverlet and put her +finger-tips to the wrist, doing it with the easy nonchalant +carelessness with which she might have seized an inanimate object, yet +knowing exactly what she was about. "H'm! Fifty-six! That's pretty +low. If we could get it above sixty--but still!" Dropping the hand +with the same indifference, yet continuing to know what she was about, +Miss Gallifer tossed aside the index of the pulse as wholly +non-convincing. "I've known cases where the pulse would go down till +there was almost no pulse at all, and _yet_ it would come up again." + +"So that you feel----?" + +"Oh, he'll do. I shouldn't worry--yet. If he wasn't going to pull +through there would be something----" + +"Something to tell you?" + +"Well, yes--if you put it that way. I most always know with a patient. +It isn't anything in his condition. It's more like a hunch. There's +often the difference between a doctor and a nurse. The doctor goes by +what he sees, the nurse by what she feels. Nine times out of ten the +doctor'll see wrong and the nurse'll feel right--and there you are! +You can't go by doctors. A lot of guess-work gumps, I often think; and +yet the laity need them for comfort." + +Making the most of all this Barbara asked, timidly: "Is there anything +I could do?" + +"Well, no! There isn't much that anyone can do. You've just got to +wait. If you're going to stay----" + +"I should like to." + +"Then you can be somewhere else in the house so that I could call +you--or you could sit right here--whichever you preferred." + +"I'd rather sit right here, if I shouldn't be in the way." + +"Oh, when you're in the way I'll tell you." + +On this understanding Barbara sat down, in a small low armchair not +far from the foot of the bed. Miss Gallifer also sat down, nearer to +the window, taking up a book which, as Barbara could see from the +"jacket" on the cover, bore the title, _The Secret of Violet Pryde_. +It was clear that there was nothing to be done, since Miss Gallifer +could so easily lose herself in her novel. + +Not till her jumble of impressions began to arrange themselves did +Barbara realize that she was in Rash's room, surrounded by the objects +most intimate to his person. Here the poor boy slept and dressed, and +lived the portion of his life which no one else could share with him. +In a sense they were rifling his privacy, the secrecy with which every +human being has in some measure to surround himself. She recalled a +day in her childhood, after her parents and both her brothers had +died, when their house with its contents was put up for sale. She +remembered the horror with which she had seen strangers walking about +in the rooms sanctified by loved presences, and endeared to her +holiest memories. Something of that she felt now, as Miss Gallifer +threw aside her book, sprang lightly to her feet, hurried into Rash's +bathroom, and came out with a towel slightly damped, which she passed +over the patient's brow. She was so horribly at ease! It was as if +Rash no longer had a personality whose rights one must respect. + +But he might get better! Miss Gallifer believed that he would! Barbara +clung to that as an anchor in this tempest of emotions. If he got +better he would open his eyes. If he opened his eyes it would be, for +a little while at least, with his inhibitions suspended. If his +inhibitions were suspended the thing he most wanted would be in his +first glance; and if his first glance fell on her.... + + + + +Chapter XXVI + + +Waiting was becoming dreamlike. She didn't find it tedious, or +over-fraught with suspense. On the contrary, it was soothing. It was a +little trance-like, too, almost as if she had been enwrapped in Rash's +stillness. + +It was so strange to see him still. It was so strange to be still +herself. Of her own being, as of his, she had hardly any concept apart +from the high winds of excitement. Calm like this was new to her, and +because new it was appeasing, wonderful. It was not unlike content, +only the content which comes in sleep, to be broken up by waking. +Somewhere in her nature she liked seeing him as he was, helpless, +inert, with no power of enraging her by being restive to her will. It +was, in its way, a repetition of what she had said that morning: "If +he wasn't here--or if he was dead!" Longing for peace, her stormy soul +seemed to know by instinct the price she would have to pay for it. For +peace to be possible Rash must pass out of her life, and the thought +of Rash passing out of her life was agony. + +While Miss Gallifer was downstairs at lunch Barbara had the sweet, +unusual sense of having him all to herself. She had never so had him +in their hours together because the violence of their clashes had +prevented communion. Seated in this silence, in this quietude, she +felt him hers. There was no one to dispute her claim, no one whose +claim she had in any way to recognize as superior. Letty's claim she +had never recognized at all. It was accidental, spurious. Letty +herself didn't put it forth--and even she was gone. If Rash were to +open his eyes he would see no one but herself. + +She was sorry when Miss Gallifer came back, though there was no help +for that; but Miss Gallifer was obtrusive only when she chatted or +moved about. For much of the time she pursued the secret of Violet +Pryde with such assiduity that the room became quiescent, and +communion with Rash could be re-established. + +The awesome silence was disturbed only by the turning of Miss +Gallifer's pages. It might have been three o'clock. Once more Barbara +was lost in the unaccustomed hush, her eyes fixed on the white face on +the pillow, in almost hypnotic restfulness. The pushing open of the +door behind was so soft that she didn't notice. Miss Gallifer turned +another page. + +It was the sense that someone was in the room which made Barbara +glance over her shoulder and Miss Gallifer look up. A little gray +figure in a battered black hat stood just within the door. She stood +just within the door, but with no consciousness of anything or anyone +in the room. She saw only the upturned face and its deathlike fixity. + +With slow, spellbound movement she began to come forward. Barbara, who +had never seen the Letty who used to be, knew her now only by a +terrified intuition. Miss Gallifer was entirely at a loss, and +somewhat indignant. The little gray vagrant was not of the type she +had been used to treating with respect. + +"What are you doing here?" she asked quickly, as soon as speech came +to her. + +Letty didn't look at her, or remove her eyes from the face on the +pillow. A woman in a trance could not have spoken with greater +detachment or self-control. "I came--to see." + +"Well, now that you've seen, won't you please go away, before I call +the police?" + +Of this Letty took no notice, going straight to the bedside, while +Miss Gallifer moved toward Barbara, who stood as she had risen from +her chair. + +"Do you know who she is?" Miss Gallifer asked, with curiosity greater +than her indignation. + +Barbara nodded. "Yes, I know who she is. I thought she'd--disappeared." + +"Oh, they never disappear for long--not that kind. What had I better +do? Is she anything--to _him_?" + +Barbara was saved the necessity of answering because Letty, who was on +the other side of the bed, bent over and kissed the feet, as she had +kissed them once before. + +"Is she dotty?" Miss Gallifer whispered. "Ought I to take her by the +shoulders and put her out the door? I could, you know--a scrap of a +thing like that." + +Barbara whispered back. "I can't tell you who she is, but--but I +wouldn't interfere with her." + +"Oh, the doctor'll do that. _He'll_ not----" + +But Letty raised herself, addressing the nurse. "Is he--dead?" + +Miss Gallifer's tone was the curt one we use to inferiors. "No, he's +not dead." + +"Is he going to die?" + +"Not this time, I think." + +Letty looked round her. "Well, I'll just sit over here." She went to a +chair at the back of the room, in a corner on a line with the door. "I +won't give any trouble. The minute he begins to--to live I'll go." + +It was Barbara who arranged the matter peaceably, mollifying Miss +Gallifer. Without explaining who Letty was she insisted on her right +to remain. If Miss Gallifer was mystified, it was no more than Miss +Towell was, or anyone else who touched the situation at a tangent. To +that Barbara was indifferent, while Letty didn't think of it. + +In rallying her forces Barbara's first recollection had been, "I must +be a sport." With theoretical sporting instincts she knew herself the +kind of sport who doesn't always run true to form. Hating meanness she +could lapse into the mean, and toward Letty herself had so lapsed. +That accident she must guard against. The issues were so big that +whatever happened, she couldn't afford to reproach herself. +Self-reproach would not only magnify defeat but poison success, since, +if she availed herself of her advantages, no success would ever prove +worth while. + +For her own sake rather than for Letty's she made use of the hour +while the doctors were again in consultation to explain the +possibilities. She would have the whole thing clearly understood. +Whether or not Letty did understand it she wasn't quite sure, since +she seemed cut off from thought-communication. She listened, nodded, +was docile to instructions, but made no response. + +To be as lucid as possible Barbara put it in this way: "Since you've +left him, and I've broken my engagement he'll be absolutely free to +choose; and yet, you must remember, we may--we may both lose him." + +That both should lose him seemed indeed the more probable after the +consultation. All the doctors looked grave, even Dr. Lancing. His +dinner-party manner had forsaken him as he talked to Barbara, his +emphasis being thrown on the word "prepared." It was still one of +those cases in which you couldn't tell, though so far the symptoms +were not encouraging. He felt himself bound in honor to say as much as +that, hoping, however, for the best. + +Closing the front door on him Barbara felt herself shaken by a +frightful possibility. If he never regained consciousness that would +"settle it." The suspense would be over. Her fate would be determined. +She would no longer have to wonder and doubt, to strive or to cry. No +longer would she run the risk of seeing another woman get him. She +would find that which her tempestuous nature craved before +everything--rest, peace, release from the impulse to battle and +dominate. Not by words, not so much as by thought, but only in wild +emotion she knew that, as far as she was concerned, it might be better +for him to die. If he lived, and chose herself, the storm would only +begin again. If he lived and chose the other.... + +But as to that she could see no reasonable prospect. She had only to +look at Letty, shrinking in her corner of the bedroom, to judge any +such mischance impossible. She was so humble; so negligible; so much +a bit of flotsam of the streets. She had an appeal of her own, of +course; but an appeal so lowly as to be obscured by the wayside dust +which covered it. What was the flower to which Rash had now and then +compared her? Wasn't that what he called it--the dust flower?--that +ragged blue thing of byways and backyards, which you couldn't touch +without washing your hands afterwards. No, no! Not even the legal tie +which nominally bound them could hold in the face of this inequality. +It would be too grotesque. + +The hours passed. The night nurse was now installed, and was reading +_Keith Macdermot's Destiny_. She was one of those tall, slender women +whom you see to be all bone. As businesslike as Miss Gallifer, and +quite as detached, Miss Moines was brisk and systematic. It being her +habit to subdue a household to herself before she entered on her +duties her eyes regarded Miss Walbrook and Letty with the startled +glance of a horse's. + +For before going Miss Gallifer had given her a hint. "You'll have to +do a lot of side-stepping here. This is the famous House of Mystery. +You'll find two nuts upstairs--that's what I'd call them if they were +men--but they're women--girls, sort of--and you've just got to leave +them alone. One's a high-stepper--regular society--was engaged to the +patient and now acts as if she'd married him; and the other--well, +perhaps you can make her out; I can't. Seems a little off. May be the +poor castaway, once loved, and now broken-hearted but faithful, you +read about in books. Anyhow, there they are, and you'd best let them +be. It won't be for more than--well, I give him twenty-four hours at +the most. I begin to think that for once old Wisdom is right. +Good-looker too, poor fellow, and can't be more than thirty-five. I +wonder what could have happened? I suppose they'll go into that at the +inquest." + +But Miss Moines was too systematic to have companions in the room +without marshaling them to some form of duty. They needed to eat; they +needed to sleep. Now and then someone had to go out on the landing and +comfort or reassure Steptoe, who sat on the attic stairs like a +grief-stricken dog. + +Letty was the first to consent to go and lie down. She did so about +nine o'clock, extracting a promise that whatever happened she would be +called at twelve. If there was any change in the meantime--but that, +Miss Moines assured her, was understood in all such ride-and-tie +arrangements. At twelve Letty was to return and Barbara lie down till +three, with the same proviso in case of the unexpected. But, so to put +it, the unexpected seemed improbable, in view of that rigid form, and +the white, upturned face. + +"And yet," Miss Moines confided to Barbara, "I don't think he's as far +gone as they think. Miss Gallifer only changed her mind when they +talked her round. A doctor just sees the patient in glimpses, whereas +a nurse lives with him, and knows what he can stand." + +About eleven Miss Moines closed _Keith Macdermot's Destiny_, and took +the pulse. She nodded as she did so, with a slight exclamation of +triumph. "Ah, ha! Fifty-eight! That's the first good sign. It may not +mean anything, but----" + +Barbara was too exhausted to feel more than a gleam of comfort. The +lassitude being emotional rather than physical Miss Moines detected it +easily enough, and sent her to rest before the hour agreed upon. She +went the more willingly, since the pulse had risen and hope could +begin once more. + +On the stairs Steptoe raised his bowed head, with a dazed stare. +Seeing Miss Walbrook he stumbled to his feet. + +"'Ow is 'e now, miss?" + +She told him the good news. + +"Ah, thank God! Perhaps after all 'E'll spare 'im." + +Steptoe informed Letty, who right on the stroke of midnight returned +to her post. "Pulse gone up two of them degrees, madam. 'E's goin' to +pull through!" + +To Letty this was a signal. On going to rest in the little back +spare room she had thrown off her street things, worn during all +the hours of watching, and put on the dressing gown she had left +there a few nights earlier. She was still wearing it, but at +Steptoe's news she went back again. On passing him the second time +she was clad in the old gray rag and the battered hat in which it +would be easier to escape. Steptoe said nothing; but he nodded to +himself comprehendingly. + +A clock struck two. Miss Moines was hungry. Expecting to be hungry she +had had a small tray, with what she called a "lunch," placed for her +in the dining-room. Had there been immediate danger she would not have +left her post; but with Letty there she saw no harm in taking ten or +fifteen minutes to conserve her strength. + +For the first time in all those hours Letty was alone with him. Not +expecting to be so left she was at first frightened, then audacious. +Except for the one time when she had approached the bedside and kissed +his feet she had remained in her corner, watching with the silent, +motionless intentness of a little animal. Her eyes hardly ever left +the white face; but at this distance even the white face was dim. + +Now she was possessed by a great daring. She would steal to the +bedside again. Again she would see the beloved features clearly. Again +she would have the amazing bliss of kissing the coverlet that covered +the dear feet. When Miss Moines returned she would be back again in +her corner, as if she had never left it. If the pulse rose higher, if +there was further hope, if he seemed to be reviving, she could slip +away in the confusion of their joy. + +She rose and listened. The house was as still as it had been at other +times when she had listened in the night. She glided to the bed. + +He lay as if he had been carved in stone, propped up with pillows to +make breathing easier, his arms outside the coverlet. He was a little +as he had been on the morning when she had passed her hand across his +brow. As then, too, his hair rose in tongues of diabolic flame. + +She was near him. She was bending over him. She was bending not above +his feet, but above his head. She knew how mad she was, but she +couldn't help herself. Stooping--stooping--closer--closer--her lips +touched the forked black mane of his hair. + +She leaped back. She leaped not only because of her own boldness, but +because he seemed to stir. It was as if this kiss, so light, so +imperceptible, had sent a galvanic throbbing through his frame. She +herself felt it, as now and then in winter she had felt an electric +spark. + +Her sin had found her out. She was terrified. He lay just as he had +lain before--only not quite--not quite! His arms were not just as they +had been; the coverlet was slightly, ever so slightly, disturbed. The +nurse would see it and know that.... + +There was a stirring of a hand. It was so little of a stirring that +she thought her eyes must have deceived her when it stirred again--a +restless toss, like a muscular contraction in sleep. She was not +alarmed now, only excited, and wondering what she ought to do. She +ought to run to the head of the stairs and call Miss Moines, only that +she couldn't bring herself to leave him. + +Then, as she stood in her attitude of doubt, the eyes opened and +looked at her. They looked at her straight, and yet glassily. They +looked at her with no gladness in the look, almost with no +recognition. If anything there was a kind of sickness there, as if the +finding her by his bedside was a disappointment. + +"I know what it is," she said to herself. "He wants--_her_." + +But the eyes closed again. The face was as white, the profile as +rigid, as ever. + +She sped to Barbara, who was lying on a couch in the front spare room. +"Come! He woke up! He wants you!" + +Back in the bedroom she effaced herself. They were all there +now--Barbara, Steptoe, and Miss Moines. + +"It's what he would do," Miss Moines corroborated, "if he was coming +back." + +Letty had told part of what she had seen, but only part of it. The +rest was her secret. The little mermaid's kiss had left the prince as +inanimate as before; hers had brought him back to life! + +It was the moment to run away. Miss Moines had said that having once +opened his eyes he would open them again. When he did he mustn't find +her there. They were all so intent on watching that this was her +opportunity. + +They were all so intent--but Steptoe. She was buttoning her jacket +when she saw his eyes steal round in her direction. A second later he +had tiptoed back into the hall, and closed the door behind him. + +It was vexing, but not fatal. He had probably gone for something. +While he was getting it she would elude him. One thing was +certain--she couldn't face the look of disappointment in those sick +dark eyes again. She opened the door. She shut it noiselessly behind +her. Steptoe wasn't there, and the way was free. + +Barbara stood just where Letty had described herself as standing when +the eyes had given her that glassy stare. To herself she seemed to +stand there for ever, though the time could be counted in minutes. The +pounding of her heart was like a pulsating of the house. + +The eyes opened again. They opened, first wearily, and then with a +fretful light which seemed to be searching for what they couldn't +find. + +Barbara stood still. + +There was another stirring of the hand, irritated, impatient. A little +moan or groan was distinctly of complaint. The eyes having rolled +hither and thither helplessly, the head turned slowly on the pillow so +as to see the other side of the room. + +"He's looking for something that he misses," Miss Moines explained, +wonderingly. "What do you suppose it can be?" + +"He wants--_her_." + +Barbara found her at the street door, pleading with Steptoe, who +actually held her by the arm. The loud whisper down the stairs was a +cry as well as a command. + +"Come!" + +At the bedroom door they parted. With a light instinctive push Barbara +forced Letty to go back to the spot on which she had stood earlier. +She herself went to the other side of the bed, only to find that the +head, in which the eyes were closed again, was now turned that way. + +As if aware that some mysterious decision was approaching Miss Moines +kept herself in the background. Steptoe had hardly advanced from the +threshold. Neither of the women by the bedside seemed to breathe. + +When the eyes opened for the third time the intelligence in them was +keener. On Barbara they rested long, quietly, kindly, till memory came +back. + +With memory there was again that restless stirring, that complaining +moan. Once more, slowly, distressfully, the head turned on the +pillow. + +On Letty the long, quiet, kindly regard lay as it had lain on Barbara. +They waited; but in the look there was no more than that. + +From two hearts two silent prayers were going up. + +"Oh, God, end it somehow--and let me have _peace_!" + +"Oh, God, make him live again--and give them to each other!" + +Then, when no one was expecting it, a faint smile quivered on the +lips, as if the returning mind saw something long desired and +comforting. Faintly, feebly, unsteadily, the hands were raised toward +the dust flower. The lips moved, enough to form dumbly the one word, +"Come!" + +The invitation was beyond crediting. Letty trembled, and shrank back. + +But from the support of the pillow the whole figure leaned forward. +The hands were lifted higher, more firmly and more longingly. Strength +came with the need for strength. A smile which was of life, not death, +beamed on the features and brought color to the face which had all +these hours seemed carved in stone. + +"He'll do now," the nurse threw off, professionally. "He'll be up in a +few days." + +It was Barbara who gave the sign to both Steptoe and Miss Moines. By +the imperiousness of her gesture and her uplifted head she swept them +out before her. If she was leaving all behind her she was leaving it +superbly; but she wasn't leaving all. Back of her tumultuous passions +a spirit was crying to her spirit, "Now you'll get what you want far +more than you want this--rest from vain desire." + +Letty approached the bedside slowly, as if drawn by an enchantment. To +the outstretched hands she stretched out hers. The door was closed, +and once more she was alone with him. + +But neither saw that for the space of a few inches the closed door was +opened again, and that an old profile peered within. Then, as slowly, +slowly, slowly, Letty sank on her knees, bowing her head on the hands +which drew her closer, and closer still, a pair of old lips smiled +contentedly. + +When the head drew back, the door was closed again. + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved as printed in the + original book except for the following changes. + + Page 38: burred to blurred (her appearance struck him simply as + blurred) + + Page 207: musn't to mustn't (They mustn't rush things.) + + Page 264: unbridgable to unbridgeable (The gulf had always been + there, yawning, unbridgeable,) + + Missing/extra quote marks were silently corrected, however, + punctuation has not been changed to comply with modern standards. + Inconsistency in hyphenation and accented words has also been retained. + + Two deviations in paragraph-ending punctuation in the original book + should be noted: on Page 14, the paragraph beginning, "Within, a toy + entry led...." and on Page 42, "There was that about him...." Both + paragraphs end with a comma and have been retained, although + throughout the book a colon was used to end these types of paragraphs + in which dialogue immediately followed. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dust Flower, by Basil King + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUST FLOWER *** + +***** This file should be named 28590-8.txt or 28590-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/5/9/28590/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Darleen Dove and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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