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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 Flirt + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Release Date: July 3, 2004 [EBook #297] +Last Updated: August 3, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLIRT *** + + +Etext produced by and anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE FLIRT + </h1> + <h2> + By Booth Tarkington + </h2> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h3> + TO + </h3> + <h3> + SUSANAH + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE FLIRT</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER TWELVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER FIFTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER EIGHTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER NINETEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER TWENTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE FLIRT + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + Valentine Corliss walked up Corliss Street the hottest afternoon of that + hot August, a year ago, wearing a suit of white serge which attracted a + little attention from those observers who were able to observe anything + except the heat. The coat was shaped delicately; it outlined the wearer, + and, fitting him as women’s clothes fit women, suggested an + effeminacy not an attribute of the tall Corliss. The effeminacy belonged + all to the tailor, an artist plying far from Corliss Street, for the coat + would have encountered a hundred of its fellows at Trouville or Ostende + this very day. Corliss Street is the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, the Park + Lane, the Fifth Avenue, of Capitol City, that smoky illuminant of our + great central levels, but although it esteems itself an established + cosmopolitan thoroughfare, it is still provincial enough to be watchful; + and even in its torrid languor took some note of the alien garment. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Corliss, treading for the first time in seventeen years the pavements + of this namesake of his grandfather, mildly repaid its interest in + himself. The street, once the most peaceful in the world, he thought, had + changed. It was still long and straight, still shaded by trees so noble + that they were betrothed, here and there, high over the wide white + roadway, the shimmering tunnels thus contrived shot with gold and blue; + but its pristine complete restfulness was departed: gasoline had arrived, + and a pedestrian, even this August day of heat, must glance two ways + before crossing. + </p> + <p> + Architectural transformations, as vital, staggered the returned native. In + his boyhood that posthumously libelled sovereign lady, Anne, had terribly + prevailed among the dwellings on this highway; now, however, there was + little left of the jig-saw’s hare-brained ministrations; but the + growing pains of the adolescent city had wrought some madness here. There + had been a revolution which was a riot; and, plainly incited by a new + outbreak of the colonies, the Goth, the Tudor, and the Tuscan had harried + the upper reaches to a turmoil attaining its climax in a howl or two from + the Spanish Moor. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was a pleasant street in spite of its improvements; in spite, too, + of a long, gray smoke-plume crossing the summer sky and dropping an + occasional atomy of coal upon Mr. Corliss’s white coat. The green + continuous masses of tree-foliage, lawn, and shrubbery were splendidly + asserted; there was a faint wholesome odour from the fine block pavement + of the roadway, white, save where the snailish water-wagon laid its long + strips of steaming brown. Locusts, serenaders of the heat, invisible among + the branches, rasped their interminable cadences, competing bitterly with + the monotonous chattering of lawn-mowers propelled by glistening black men + over the level swards beneath. And though porch and terrace were left to + vacant wicker chairs and swinging-seats, and to flowers and plants in jars + and green boxes, and the people sat unseen—and, it might be guessed, + unclad for exhibition, in the dimmer recesses of their houses—nevertheless, + a summery girl under an alluring parasol now and then prettily trod the + sidewalks, and did not altogether suppress an ample consciousness of the + white pedestrian’s stalwart grace; nor was his quick glance too + distressingly modest to be aware of these faint but attractive + perturbations. + </p> + <p> + A few of the oldest houses remained as he remembered them, and there were + two or three relics of mansard and cupola days; but the herd of cast-iron + deer that once guarded these lawns, standing sentinel to all true gentry: + Whither were they fled? In his boyhood, one specimen betokened a family of + position and affluence; two, one on each side of the front walk, spoke of + a noble opulence; two and a fountain were overwhelming. He wondered in + what obscure thickets that once proud herd now grazed; and then he smiled, + as through a leafy opening of shrubbery he caught a glimpse of a last + survivor, still loyally alert, the haughty head thrown back in everlasting + challenge and one foreleg lifted, standing in a vast and shadowy backyard + with a clothesline fastened to its antlers. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Corliss remembered that backyard very well: it was an old battlefield + whereon he had conquered; and he wondered if “the Lindley boys” + still lived there, and if Richard Lindley would hate him now as implacably + as then. + </p> + <p> + A hundred yards farther on, he paused before a house more familiar to him + than any other, and gave it a moment’s whimsical attention, without + emotion. + </p> + <p> + It was a shabby old brick structure, and it stood among the gayest, the + most flamboyant dwellings of all Corliss Street like a bewildered tramp + surrounded by carnival maskers. It held place full in the course of the + fury for demolition and rebuilding, but remained unaltered—even + unrepaired, one might have thought—since the early seventies, when + it was built. There was a sagging cornice, and the nauseous brown which + the walls had years ago been painted was sooted to a repellent dinge, so + cracked and peeled that the haggard red bricks were exposed, like a beggar + through the holes in his coat. It was one of those houses which are large + without being commodious; its very tall, very narrow windows, with their + attenuated, rusty inside shutters, boasting to the passerby of high + ceilings but betraying the miserly floor spaces. At each side of the front + door was a high and cramped bay-window, one of them insanely culminating + in a little six-sided tower of slate, and both of them girdled above the + basement windows by a narrow porch, which ran across the front of the + house and gave access to the shallow vestibule. However, a pleasant + circumstance modified the gloom of this edifice and assured it a remnant + of reserve and dignity in its ill-considered old age: it stood back a fine + hundred feet from the highway, and was shielded in part by a friendly + group of maple trees and one glorious elm, hoary, robust, and majestic, a + veteran of the days when this was forest ground. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Corliss concluded his momentary pause by walking up the broken cement + path, which was hard beset by plantain-weed and the long grass of the + ill-kept lawn. Ascending the steps, he was assailed by an odour as of + vehement bananas, a diffusion from some painful little chairs standing in + the long, high, dim, rather sorrowful hall disclosed beyond the open + double doors. They were stiff little chairs of an inconsequent, mongrel + pattern; armless, with perforated wooden seats; legs tortured by the lathe + to a semblance of buttons strung on a rod; and they had that day received + a streaky coat of a gilding preparation which exhaled the olfactory + vehemence mentioned. Their present station was temporary, their purpose, + as obviously, to dry; and they were doing some incidental gilding on their + own account, leaving blots and splashes and sporadic little round + footprints on the hardwood floor. + </p> + <p> + The old-fashioned brass bell-handle upon the caller’s right drooped + from its socket in a dead fag, but after comprehensive manipulation on the + part of the young man, and equal complaint on its own, it was constrained + to permit a dim tinkle remotely. Somewhere in the interior a woman’s + voice, not young, sang a repeated fragment of “Lead, Kindly Light,” + to the accompaniment of a flapping dust-cloth, sounds which ceased upon a + second successful encounter with the bell. Ensued a silence, probably to + be interpreted as a period of whispered consultation out of range; a + younger voice called softly and urgently, “Laura!” and a + dark-eyed, dark-haired girl of something over twenty made her appearance + to Mr. Corliss. + </p> + <p> + At sight of her he instantly restored a thin gold card-case to the pocket + whence he was in the act of removing it. She looked at him with only + grave, impersonal inquiry; no appreciative invoice of him was to be + detected in her quiet eyes, which may have surprised him, possibly the + more because he was aware there was plenty of appreciation in his own + kindling glance. She was very white and black, this lady. Tall, trim, + clear, she looked cool in spite of the black winter skirt she wore, an + effect helped somewhat, perhaps, by the crisp freshness of her white + waist, with its masculine collar and slim black tie, and undoubtedly by + the even and lustreless light ivory of her skin, against which the strong + black eyebrows and undulated black hair were lined with attractive + precision; but, most of all, that coolness was the emanation of her + undisturbed and tranquil eyes. They were not phlegmatic: a continuing + spark glowed far within them, not ardently, but steadily and inscrutably, + like the fixed stars in winter. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Valentine Corliss, of Paris and Naples, removed his white-ribboned + straw hat and bowed as no one had ever bowed in that doorway. This most + vivid salutation—accomplished by adding something to a rather quick + inclination of the body from the hips, with the back and neck held + straight expressed deference without affecting or inviting cordiality. It + was an elaborate little formality of a kind fancifully called “foreign,” + and evidently habitual to the performer. + </p> + <p> + It produced no outward effect upon the recipient. Such self-control is + unusual. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Madison at home? My name is Valentine Corliss.” + </p> + <p> + “He is at home.” She indicated an open doorway upon her right. + “Will you wait in there?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Mr. Corliss, passing within. “I shall + be——” He left the sentence unfinished, for he was + already alone, and at liberty to reflect upon the extraordinary coolness + of this cool young woman. + </p> + <p> + The room, with its closed blinds, was soothingly dark after the riotous + sun without, a grateful obscurity which was one of two attractions + discovered in it by Mr. Corliss while he waited. It was a depressing + little chamber, disproportionately high, uncheered by seven chairs (each + of a different family, but all belonging to the same knobby species, and + all upholstered a repellent blue), a scratched “inlaid table,” + likewise knobby, and a dangerous looking small sofa—turbulent + furniture, warmly harmonious, however, in a common challenge to the + visitor to take comfort in any of it. A once-gilt gas chandelier hung from + the distant ceiling, with three globes of frosted glass, but undeniable + evidence that five were intended; and two of the three had been severely + bitten. There was a hostile little coal-grate, making a mouth under a + mantel of imitation black marble, behind an old blue-satin fire-screen + upon which red cat-tails and an owl over a pond had been roughly + embroidered in high relief, this owl motive being the inspiration of + innumerable other owls reflected in innumerable other ponds in the + formerly silver moonlight with which the walls were papered. Corliss + thought he remembered that in his boyhood, when it was known as “the + parlour” (though he guessed that the Madison family called it + “the reception room,” now) this was the place where his aunt + received callers who, she justifiably hoped, would not linger. Altogether, + it struck him that it might be a good test-room for an alienist: no + incipient lunacy would remain incipient here. + </p> + <p> + There was one incongruity which surprised him—a wicker waste-paper + basket, so nonsensically out of place in this arid cell, where not the + wildest hare-brain could picture any one coming to read or write, that he + bestowed upon it a particular, frowning attention, and so discovered the + second attractive possession of the room. A fresh and lovely pink rose, + just opening full from the bud, lay in the bottom of the basket. + </p> + <p> + There was a rustling somewhere in the house and a murmur, above which a + boy’s voice became audible in emphatic but undistinguishable + complaint. A whispering followed, and a woman exclaimed protestingly, + “Cora!” And then a startlingly pretty girl came carelessly + into the room through the open door. + </p> + <p> + She was humming “Quand I’ Amour Meurt” in a gay + preoccupation, and evidently sought something upon the table in the centre + of the room, for she continued her progress toward it several steps before + realizing the presence of a visitor. She was a year or so younger than the + girl who had admitted him, fairer and obviously more plastic, more + expressive, more perishable, a great deal more insistently feminine; + though it was to be seen that they were sisters. This one had eyes almost + as dark as the other’s, but these were not cool; they were sweet, + unrestful, and seeking; brilliant with a vivacious hunger: and not Diana + but huntresses more ardent have such eyes. Her hair was much lighter than + her sister’s; it was the colour of dry corn-silk in the sun; and she + was the shorter by a head, rounder everywhere and not so slender; but no + dumpling: she was exquisitely made. There was a softness about her: + something of velvet, nothing of mush. She diffused with her entrance a + radiance of gayety and of gentleness; sunlight ran with her. She seemed + the incarnation of a caressing smile. + </p> + <p> + She was point-device. Her close, white skirt hung from a plainly + embroidered white waist to a silken instep; and from the crown of her + charming head to the tall heels of her graceful white suede slippers, + heels of a sweeter curve than the waist of a violin, she was as modern and + lovely as this dingy old house was belated and hideous. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Valentine Corliss spared the fraction of a second for another glance + at the rose in the waste-basket. + </p> + <p> + The girl saw him before she reached the table, gave a little gasp of + surprise, and halted with one hand carried prettily to her breast. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said impulsively; “I <i>beg</i> your pardon. I + didn’t know there was—— I was looking for a book I + thought I——” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, whelmed with a breath-taking shyness, her eyes, after one + quick but condensed encounter with those of Mr. Corliss, falling beneath + exquisite lashes. Her voice was one to stir all men: it needs not many + words for a supremely beautiful “speaking-voice” to be + recognized for what it is; and this girl’s was like herself, + hauntingly lovely. The intelligent young man immediately realized that no + one who heard it could ever forget it. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” she faltered, turning to leave the room; “it + isn’t here—the book.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s something else of yours here,” said Corliss. + </p> + <p> + “Is there?” She paused, hesitating at the door, looking at him + over her shoulder uncertainly. + </p> + <p> + “You dropped this rose.” He lifted the rose from the + waste-basket and repeated the bow he had made at the front door. This time + it was not altogether wasted. + </p> + <h3> + “I?” + </h3> + <p> + “Yes. You lost it. It belongs to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—it does. How curious!” she said slowly. “How + curious it happened to be <i>there</i>!” She stepped to take it from + him, her eyes upon his in charming astonishment. “And how odd that——” + She stopped; then said quickly: + </p> + <p> + “How did you know it was <i>my</i> rose?” + </p> + <p> + “Any one would know!” + </p> + <p> + Her expression of surprise was instantaneously merged in a flash of honest + pleasure and admiration, such as only an artist may feel in the presence + of a little masterpiece by a fellow-craftsman. + </p> + <p> + Happily, anticlimax was spared them by the arrival of the person for whom + the visitor had asked at the door, and the young man retained the rose in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Madison, a shapeless hillock with a large, harassed, red face, + evidently suffered from the heat: his gray hair was rumpled back from a + damp forehead; the sleeves of his black alpaca coat were pulled up to the + elbow above his uncuffed white shirtsleeves; and he carried in one mottled + hand the ruins of a palm-leaf fan, in the other a balled wet handkerchief + which released an aroma of camphor upon the banana-burdened air. He bore + evidences of inadequate adjustment after a disturbed siesta, but, + exercising a mechanical cordiality, preceded himself into the room by a + genial half-cough and a hearty, “Well-well-well,” as if + wishing to indicate a spirit of polite, even excited, hospitality. + </p> + <p> + “I expected you might be turning up, after your letter,” he + said, shaking hands. “Well, well, well! I remember you as a boy. + Wouldn’t have known you, of course; but I expect you’ll find + the town about as much changed as you are.” + </p> + <p> + With a father’s blindness to all that is really vital, he concluded + his greeting inconsequently: “Oh, this is my little girl Cora.” + </p> + <p> + “Run along, little girl,” said the fat father. + </p> + <p> + His little girl’s radiant glance at the alert visitor imparted her + thorough comprehension of all the old man’s absurdities, which had + reached their climax in her dismissal. Her parting look, falling from + Corliss’s face to the waste-basket at his feet, just touched the + rose in his hand as she passed through the door. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + Cora paused in the hall at a point about twenty feet from the door, a + girlish stratagem frequently of surprising advantage to the practitioner; + but the two men had begun to speak of the weather. Suffering a momentary + disappointment, she went on, stepping silently, and passed through a door + at the end of the hall into a large and barren looking dining-room, + stiffly and skimpily furnished, but well-lighted, owing to the fact that + one end of it had been transformed into a narrow “conservatory,” + a glass alcove now tenanted by two dried palms and a number of vacant jars + and earthen crocks. + </p> + <p> + Here her sister sat by an open window, repairing masculine underwear; and + a handsome, shabby, dirty boy of about thirteen sprawled on the floor of + the “conservatory” unloosing upon its innocent, cracked, old + black and white tiles a ghastly family of snakes, owls, and visaged + crescent moons, in orange, green, and other loathsome chalks. As Cora + entered from the hall, a woman of fifty came in at a door opposite, and, a + dust-cloth retained under her left arm, an unsheathed weapon ready for + emergency, leaned sociably against the door-casing and continued to polish + a tablespoon with a bit of powdered chamois-skin. She was tall and + slightly bent; and, like the flat, old, silver spoon in her hand, seemed + to have been worn thin by use; yet it was plain that the three young + people in the room “got their looks” from her. Her eyes, if + tired, were tolerant and fond; and her voice held its youth and something + of the music of Cora’s. + </p> + <p> + “What is he like?” She addressed the daughter by the window. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you ask Coralie?” suggested the sprawling + artist, relaxing his hideous labour. He pronounced his sister’s name + with intense bitterness. He called it “Cora-<i>lee</i>,” with + an implication far from subtle that his sister had at some time thus + Gallicized herself, presumably for masculine favour; and he was pleased to + receive tribute to his satire in a flash of dislike from her lovely eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I ask Laura because it was Laura who went to the door,” Mrs. + Madison answered. “I do not ask Cora because Cora hasn’t seen + him. Do I satisfy you, Hedrick?” + </p> + <p> + “`Cora hasn’t seen him!’” the boy hooted + mockingly. “She hasn’t? She was peeking out of the library + shutters when he came up the front walk, and she wouldn’t let me go + to the door; she told Laura to go, but first she took the library + waste-basket and laid one o’ them roses——” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Those</i> roses,” said Cora sharply. “He <i>will</i> + hang around the neighbours’ stables. I think you ought to do + something about it, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Them</i> roses!” repeated Hedrick fiercely. “One o’ + them roses Dick Lindley sent her this morning. Laid it in the waste-basket + and sneaked it into the reception room for an excuse to go galloping in + and——” + </p> + <p> + “`Galloping’?” said Mrs. Madison gravely. + </p> + <p> + “It was a pretty bum excuse,” continued the unaffected youth, + “but you bet your life you’ll never beat our Cora-<i>lee</i> + when there’s a person in pants on the premises! It’s + sickening.” He rose, and performed something like a toe-dance, a + supposed imitation of his sister’s mincing approach to the visitor. + “Oh, dear, I am such a little sweety! Here I am all alone just + reeking with Browning-and-Tennyson and thinking to myself about such + lovely things, and walking around looking for my nice, pretty rose. Where + can it be? Oh heavens, Mister, are <i>you</i> here? Oh my, I never, never + thought that there was a <i>man</i> here! How you frighten me! See what a + shy little thing I am? You <i>do see, don’t</i> you, old sweeticums? + Ta, ta, here’s papa. Remember me by that rose, ‘cause it’s + just like me. Me and it’s twins, you see, cutie-sugar!” The + diabolical boy then concluded with a reversion to the severity of his own + manner: “If she was <i>my</i> daughter I’d whip her!” + </p> + <p> + His indignation was left in the air, for the three ladies had + instinctively united against him, treacherously including his private feud + in the sex-war of the ages: Cora jumped lightly upon the table and sat + whistling and polishing the nails of one hand upon the palm of another; + Laura continued to sew without looking up, and Mrs. Madison, conquering a + tendency to laugh, preserved a serene countenance and said ruminatively: + </p> + <p> + “They were all rather queer, the Corlisses.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick stared incredulously, baffled; but men must expect these things, + and this was no doubt a helpful item in his education. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if he wants to sell the house,” said Mrs. Madison. + </p> + <p> + “I wish he would. Anything that would make father get out of it!” + Cora exclaimed. “I hope Mr. Corliss will burn it if he doesn’t + sell it.” + </p> + <p> + “He might want to live here himself.” + </p> + <p> + “He!” Cora emitted a derisive outcry. + </p> + <p> + Her mother gave her a quick, odd look, in which there was a real alarm. + “What is he like, Cora?” + </p> + <p> + “Awfully foreign and distinguished!” + </p> + <p> + This brought Hedrick to confront her with a leap as of some wild animal + under a lash. He landed close to her; his face awful. + </p> + <p> + “Princely, I should call him,” said Cora, her enthusiasm + undaunted. “Distinctly princely!” + </p> + <p> + “Princely,” moaned Hedrick. “Pe-rin-sley!” + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick!” Mrs. Madison reproved him automatically. “In + what way is he `foreign,’ Cora?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, every way.” Cora let her glance rest dreamily upon the + goaded boy. “He has a splendid head set upon a magnificent torso——” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Torso</i>!” Hedrick whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Tall, a glorious figure—like a young guardsman’s.” + Madness was gathering in her brother’s eyes; and observing it with + quiet pleasure, she added: “One sees immediately he has the grand + manner, the bel air.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick exploded. “`<i>Bel air</i>’!” he screamed, and + began to jump up and down, tossing his arms frantically, and gasping with + emotion. “Oh, bel air! Oh, blah! `Henry Esmond!’ Been readin’ + `Henry Esmond!’ Oh, you be-yoo-tiful Cora-Beatrix-a-<i>lee</i>! + Magganifisent torso! Gull<i>o</i>-rious figgi-your! Bel air! Oh, slush! + Oh, luv-a-ly slush!” He cast himself convulsively upon the floor, + full length. “Luv-a-ly, <i>luv</i>-a-ly slush!” + </p> + <p> + “He is thirty, I should say,” continued Cora, thoughtfully. + “Yes—about thirty. A strong, keen face, rather tanned. He’s + between fair and dark——” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick raised himself to the attitude of the “Dying Gaul.” + “And with `hair slightly silvered at the temples!’ <i>Ain</i>’t + his hair slightly silvered at the temples?” he cried imploringly. + “Oh, sister, in pity’s name let his hair be slightly silvered + at the temples? Only three grains of corn, your Grace; my children are + starving!” + </p> + <p> + He collapsed again, laid his face upon his extended arms, and writhed. + </p> + <p> + “He has rather wonderful eyes,” said Cora. “They seem to + look right through you.” + </p> + <p> + “Slush, slush, luv-a-ly slush,” came in muffled tones from the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “And he wears his clothes so well—so differently! You feel at + once that he’s not a person, but a personage.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick sat up, his eyes closed, his features contorted as with agony, and + chanted, impromptu: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Slush, slush, luv-a-ly, slush! + Le’ss all go a-swimmin’ in a dollar’s worth o’ mush. + Slush in the morning, slush at night, + If I don’t get my slush I’m bound to get tight!” + </pre> + <p> + “Hedrick!” said his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Altogether I should say that Mr. Valentine Corliss looks as if he + lived up to his name,” Cora went on tranquilly. “Valentine + Corliss of Corliss Street—I think I rather like the sound of that + name.” She let her beautiful voice linger upon it, caressingly. + “Valentine Corliss.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick opened his eyes, allowed his countenance to resume its ordinary + proportions, and spoke another name slowly and with honeyed + thoughtfulness: + </p> + <p> + “Ray Vilas.” + </p> + <p> + This was the shot that told. Cora sprang down from the table with an + exclamation. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick, subduing elation, added gently, in a mournful whisper: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Poor</i> old Dick Lindley!” + </p> + <p> + His efforts to sting his sister were completely successful at last: Cora + was visibly agitated, and appealed hotly to her mother. “Am I to + bear this kind of thing all my life? Aren’t you <i>ever</i> going to + punish his insolence?” + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick, Hedrick!” said Mrs. Madison sadly. + </p> + <p> + Cora turned to the girl by the window with a pathetic gesture. “Laura——” + she said, and hesitated. + </p> + <p> + Laura Madison looked up into her sister’s troubled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I feel so morbid,” said Cora, flushing a little and glancing + away. “I wish——” She stopped. + </p> + <p> + The silent Laura set aside her work, rose and went out of the room. Her + cheeks, too, had reddened faintly, a circumstance sharply noted by the + terrible boy. He sat where he was, asprawl, propped by his arms behind + him, watching with acute concentration the injured departure of Cora, + following her sister. At the door, Cora, without pausing, threw him a look + over her shoulder: a full-eyed shot of frankest hatred. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, magnificent chords sounded through the house. The + piano was old, but tuned to the middle of the note, and the keys were + swept by a master hand. The wires were not hammered; they were touched + knowingly as by the player’s own fingers, and so they sang—and + from out among the chords there stole an errant melody. This was not + “piano-playing” and not a pianist’s triumphant + nimbleness—it was music. Art is the language of a heart that knows + how to speak, and a heart that knew how was speaking here. What it told + was something immeasurably wistful, something that might have welled up in + the breast of a young girl standing at twilight in an April orchard. It + was the inexpressible made into sound, an improvisation by a master + player. + </p> + <p> + “You hear what she’s up to?” said Hedrick, turning his + head at last. But his mother had departed. + </p> + <p> + He again extended himself flat upon the floor, face downward, this time as + a necessary preliminary to rising after a manner of his own invention. + Mysteriously he became higher in the middle, his body slowly forming first + a round and then a pointed arch, with forehead, knees, and elbows touching + the floor. A brilliantly executed manoeuvre closed his Gothic period, set + him upright and upon his feet; then, without ostentation, he proceeded to + the kitchen, where he found his mother polishing a sugar-bowl. + </p> + <p> + He challenged her with a damnatory gesture in the direction of the music. + “You hear what Cora’s up to?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Madison’s expression was disturbed; she gave her son a look + almost of appeal, and said, gently: + </p> + <p> + “I believe there’s nothing precisely criminal in her getting + Laura to play for her. Laura’s playing always soothes her when she + feels out of sorts—and—you weren’t very considerate of + her, Hedrick. You upset her.” + </p> + <p> + “Mentioning Ray Vilas, you mean?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “You weren’t kind.” + </p> + <p> + “She deserves it. Look at her! <i>You</i> know why she’s got + Laura at the piano now.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s—it’s because you worried her,” his + mother faltered evasively. “Besides, it is very hot, and Cora isn’t + as strong as she looks. She said she felt morbid and——” + </p> + <p> + “Morbid? Blah!” interrupted the direct boy. “She’s + started after this Corliss man just like she did for Vilas. If I was Dick + Lindley I wouldn’t stand for Cora’s——” + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick!” His mother checked his outburst pleadingly. “Cora + has so much harder time than the other girls; they’re all so much + better off. They seem to get everything they want, just by asking: nice + clothes and jewellery—and automobiles. That seems to make a great + difference nowadays; they all seem to have automobiles. We’re so + dreadfully poor, and Cora has to struggle so for what good times she——” + </p> + <p> + “Her?” the boy jibed bitterly. “I don’t see her + doing any particular struggling.” He waved his hand in a wide + gesture. “She takes it <i>all</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “There, there!” the mother said, and, as if feeling the need + of placating this harsh judge, continued gently: “Cora isn’t + strong, Hedrick, and she does have a hard time. Almost every one of the + other girls in her set is at the seashore or somewhere having a gay + summer. You don’t realize, but it’s mortifying to have to be + the only one to stay at home, with everybody knowing it’s because + your father can’t afford to send her. And this house is so hopeless,” + Mrs. Madison went on, extending her plea hopefully; “it’s + impossible to make it attractive, but Cora keeps trying and trying: she + was all morning on her knees gilding those chairs for the music-room, poor + child, and——” + </p> + <p> + “`Music-room’!” sneered the boy. “Gilt chairs! All + show-off! That’s all she ever thinks about. It’s all there is + to Cora, just show-off, so she’ll get a string o’ fellows + chasin’ after her. She’s started for this Corliss just exactly + the way she did for Ray Vilas!” + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick!” + </p> + <p> + “Just look at her!” he cried vehemently. “Don’t + you know she’s tryin’ to make this Corliss think it’s <i>her</i> + playin’ the piano right now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no——” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t she do that with Ray Vilas?” he demanded + quickly. “Wasn’t that exactly what she did the first time he + ever came here—got Laura to play and made him think it was <i>her</i>? + Didn’t she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—just in fun.” Mrs. Madison’s tone lacked + conviction; she turned, a little confusedly, from the glaring boy and + fumbled among the silver on the kitchen table. “Besides—she + told him afterward that it was Laura.” + </p> + <p> + “He walked in on her one day when she was battin’ away at the + piano herself with her back to the door. Then she pretended it had been a + joke, and he was so far gone by that time he didn’t care. He’s + crazy, anyway,” added the youth, casually. “Who is this + Corliss?” + </p> + <p> + “He owns this house. His family were early settlers and used to be + very prominent, but they’re all dead except this one. His mother was + a widow; she went abroad to live and took him with her when he was about + your age, and I don’t think he’s ever been back since.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he use to live in this house?” + </p> + <p> + “No; an aunt of his did. She left it to him when she died, two years + ago. Your father was agent for her.” + </p> + <p> + “You think this Corliss wants to sell it?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s been for sale all the time he’s owned it. That’s + why we moved here; it made the rent low.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he rich?” + </p> + <p> + “They used to have money, but maybe it’s all spent. It seemed + to me he might want to raise money on the house, because I don’t see + any other reason that could bring him back here. He’s already + mortgaged it pretty heavily, your father told me. I don’t——” + Mrs. Madison paused abruptly, her eyes widening at a dismaying thought. + “Oh, I do hope your father will know better than to ask him to stay + to dinner!” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick’s expression became cryptic. “Father won’t ask + him,” he said. “But I’ll bet you a thousand dollars he + stays!” + </p> + <p> + The mother followed her son’s thought and did not seek to elicit + verbal explanation of the certainty which justified so large a venture. + “Oh, I hope not,” she said. “Sarah’s threatening + to leave, anyway; and she gets so cross if there’s extra cooking on + wash-days.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sarah’ll have to get cross,” said the boy grimly; + “and <i>I</i>’ll have to plug out and go for a quart of brick + ice-cream and carry it home in all this heat; and Laura and you’ll + have to stand over the stove with Sarah; and father’ll have to + change his shirt; and we’ll all have to toil and moil and sweat and + suffer while Cora-lee sits out on the front porch and talks toodle-do-dums + to her new duke. And then she’ll have <i>you</i> go out and kid him + along while——” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Hedrick</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will!—while she gets herself all dressed and + powdered up again. After that, she’ll do her share of the work: she’ll + strain her poor back carryin’ Dick Lindley’s flowers down the + back stairs and stickin’ ’em in a vase over a hole in the + tablecloth that Laura hasn’t had time to sew up. You wait and see!” + </p> + <p> + The gloomy realism of this prophecy was not without effect upon the seer’s + mother. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed, protestingly. “We + really can’t manage it. I’m sure Cora won’t want to ask + him——” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll see!” + </p> + <p> + “No; I’m sure she wouldn’t think of it, but if she does + I’ll tell her we can’t. We really can’t, to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Her son looked pityingly upon her. “She ought to be <i>my </i> + daughter,” he said, the sinister implication all too plain;—“just + about five minutes!” + </p> + <p> + With that, he effectively closed the interview and left her. + </p> + <p> + He returned to his abandoned art labours in the “conservatory,” + and meditatively perpetrated monstrosities upon the tiles for the next + half-hour, at the end of which he concealed his box of chalks, with an + anxiety possibly not unwarranted, beneath the sideboard; and made his way + toward the front door, first glancing, unseen, into the kitchen where his + mother still pursued the silver. He walked through the hall on tiptoe, + taking care to step upon the much stained and worn strip of “Turkish” + carpet, and not upon the more resonant wooden floor. The music had ceased + long since. + </p> + <p> + The open doorway was like a brilliantly painted picture hung upon the + darkness of the hall, though its human centre of interest was no startling + bit of work, consisting of Mr. Madison pottering aimlessly about the + sun-flooded, unkempt lawn, fanning himself, and now and then stooping to + pull up one of the thousands of plantain-weeds that beset the grass. With + him the little spy had no concern; but from a part of the porch out of + sight from the hall came Cora’s exquisite voice and the light and + pleasant baritone of the visitor. Hedrick flattened himself in a corner + just inside the door. + </p> + <p> + “I should break any engagement whatsoever if I had one,” Mr. + Corliss was saying with what the eavesdropper considered an offensively + “foreign” accent and an equally unjustifiable gallantry; + “but of course I haven’t: I am so utterly a stranger here. + Your mother is immensely hospitable to wish you to ask me, and I’ll + be only too glad to stay. Perhaps after dinner you’ll be very, very + kind and play again? Of course you know how remarkable such——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just improvising,” Cora tossed off, carelessly, with a + deprecatory ripple of laughter. “It’s purely with the mood, + you see. I can’t make myself do things. No; I fancy I shall not play + again today.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “Shan’t I fasten that in your buttonhole for you,” said + Cora. + </p> + <p> + “You see how patiently I’ve been awaiting the offer!” + </p> + <p> + There was another little silence; and the listener was able to construct a + picture (possibly in part from an active memory) of Cora’s delicate + hands uplifted to the gentleman’s lapel and Cora’s eyes for a + moment likewise uplifted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one has moods,” she said, dreamily. “I am <i>all</i> + moods. I think you are too, Mr. Corliss. You <i>look</i> moody. Aren’t + you?” + </p> + <p> + A horrible grin might have been seen to disfigure the shadow in the corner + just within the doorway. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + It was cooler outdoors, after dinner, in the dusk of that evening; + nevertheless three members of the Madison family denied themselves the + breeze, and, as by a tacitly recognized and habitual house-rule, so + disposed themselves as to afford the most agreeable isolation for the + younger daughter and the guest, who occupied wicker chairs upon the porch. + The mother and father sat beneath a hot, gas droplight in the small + “library”; Mrs. Madison with an evening newspaper, her husband + with “King Solomon’s Mines”; and Laura, after crisply + declining an urgent request from Hedrick to play, had disappeared + upstairs. The inimical lad alone was inspired for the ungrateful role of + duenna. + </p> + <p> + He sat upon the topmost of the porch steps with the air of being + permanently implanted; leaning forward, elbows on knees, cheeks on palms, + in a treacherous affectation of profound reverie; and his back (all of him + that was plainly visible in the hall light) tauntingly close to a delicate + foot which would, God wot! willingly have launched him into the darkness + beyond. It was his dreadful pleasure to understand wholly the itching of + that shapely silk and satin foot. + </p> + <p> + The gas-light from the hall laid a broad orange path to the steps—Cora + and her companion sat just beyond it, his whiteness gray, and she a pale + ethereality in the shadow. She wore an evening gown that revealed a vague + lilac through white, and shimmered upon her like a vapour. She was very + quiet; and there was a wan sweetness about her, an exhalation of + wistfulness. Cora, in the evening, was more like a rose than ever. She was + fragrant in the dusk. The spell she cast was an Undine’s: it was not + to be thought so exquisite a thing as she could last. And who may know how + she managed to say what she did in the silence and darkness? For it was + said—without words, without touch, even without a look—as + plainly as if she had spoken or written the message: “If I am a + rose, I am one to be worn and borne away. Are you the man?” + </p> + <p> + With the fall of night, the street they faced had become still, save for + an infrequent squawk of irritation on the part of one of the passing + automobiles, gadding for the most part silently, like fireflies. But after + a time a strolling trio of negroes came singing along the sidewalk. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “In the evening, by the moonlight, you could hear + those banjos ringing; + In the evening, by the moonlight, you could hear + those darkies singing. + How the ole folks would injoy it; they would sit + all night an’ lis-sun, + As we sang I-I-N the evening BY-Y-Y the moonlight.’ +</pre> + <p> + “Ah, <i>that</i> takes me back!” exclaimed Corliss. “That’s + as it used to be. I might be a boy again.” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose this old house has many memories for you?” said + Cora, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Not very many. My, old-maid aunt didn’t like me overmuch, I + believe; and I wasn’t here often. My mother and I lived far down the + street. A big apartment-house stands there now, I noticed as I was walking + out here this afternoon—the `Verema,’ it is called, absurdly + enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Ray Vilas lives there,” volunteered Hedrick, not altering his + position. + </p> + <p> + “Vilas?” said the visitor politely, with a casual recollection + that the name had been once or twice emphasized by the youth at dinner. + “I don’t remember Vilas among the old names here.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t, I guess,” said Hedrick. “Ray Vilas has + only been here about two years. He came from Kentucky.” + </p> + <p> + “A great friend of yours, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “He ain’t a boy,” said Hedrick, and returned to silence + without further explanation. + </p> + <p> + “How cool and kind the stars are to-night,” said Cora, very + gently. + </p> + <p> + She leaned forward from her chair, extending a white arm along the iron + railing of the porch; bending toward Corliss, and speaking toward him and + away from Hedrick in as low a voice as possible, probably entertaining a + reasonable hope of not being overheard. + </p> + <p> + “I love things that are cool and kind,” she said. “I + love things that are cool and strong. I love iron.” She moved her + arm caressingly upon the railing. “I love its cool, smooth touch. + Any strong life must have iron in it. I like iron in men.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned a very little closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Have you iron in you, Mr. Corliss?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + At these words the frayed edge of Hedrick’s broad white collar was + lifted perceptibly from his coat, as if by a shudder passing over the back + and shoulders beneath. + </p> + <p> + “If I have not,” answered Corliss in a low voice, “I + will have—now!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about yourself,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Dear lady,” he began—and it was an effective beginning, + for a sigh of pleasure parted her lips as he spoke—“there is + nothing interesting to tell. I have spent a very commonplace life.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not. You shouldn’t call any life commonplace that has + escaped <i>this</i>!” The lovely voice was all the richer for the + pain that shook it now. “This monotony, this unending desert of + ashes, this death in life!” + </p> + <p> + “This town, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “This prison, I mean! Everything. Tell me what lies outside of it. + You can.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think I can?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t need to answer that. You understand perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine Corliss drew in his breath with a sound murmurous of delight, + and for a time they did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, finally, “I think I do.” + </p> + <p> + “There are meetings in the desert,” he went on, slowly. + “A lonely traveller finds another at a spring, sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “And sometimes they find that they speak the same language?” + </p> + <p> + His answer came, almost in a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “`Even as you and I.’” + </p> + <p> + “`Even as you and I,’” she echoed, even more faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Cora breathed rapidly in the silence that followed; she had every + appearance of a woman deeply and mysteriously stirred. Her companion + watched her keenly in the dusk, and whatever the reciprocal symptoms of + emotion he may have exhibited, they were far from tumultuous, bearing more + likeness to the quiet satisfaction of a good card-player taking what may + prove to be a decisive trick. + </p> + <p> + After a time she leaned back in her chair again, and began to fan herself + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “You have lived in the Orient, haven’t you, Mr. Corliss?” + she said in an ordinary tone. + </p> + <p> + “Not lived. I’ve been East once or twice. I spend a greater + part of the year at Posilipo.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is that?” + </p> + <p> + “On the fringe of Naples.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you live in a hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” A slight surprise sounded in his voice. “I have a + villa there.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what that seems to me?” Cora asked gravely, after + a pause; then answered herself, after another: “Like magic. Like a + strange, beautiful dream.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is beautiful,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then tell me: What do you do there?” + </p> + <p> + “I spend a lot of time on the water in a boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Sailing?” + </p> + <p> + “On sapphires and emeralds and turquoises and rubies, melted and + blown into waves.” + </p> + <p> + “And you go yachting over that glory?” + </p> + <p> + “Fishing with my crew—and loafing.” + </p> + <p> + “But your boat is really a yacht, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it might be called anything,” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “And your sailors are Italian fishermen?” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick slew a mosquito upon his temple, smiting himself hard. “No, + they’re Chinese!” he muttered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “They’re Neapolitans,” said Corliss. + </p> + <p> + “Do they wear red sashes and earrings?” asked Cora. + </p> + <p> + “One of them wears earrings and a derby hat!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she protested, turning to him again. “You don’t + tell me. You let me cross-question you, but you don’t tell me + things! Don’t you see? I want to know what <i>life</i> is! I want to + know of strange seas, of strange people, of pain and of danger, of great + music, of curious thoughts! What are the Neapolitan women like?” + </p> + <p> + “They fade early.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned closer to him. “Before the fading have you—have you + loved—many?” + </p> + <p> + “All the pretty ones I ever saw,” he answered gayly, but with + something in his tone (as there was in hers) which implied that all the + time they were really talking of things other than those spoken. Yet here + this secret subject seemed to come near the surface. + </p> + <p> + She let him hear a genuine little snap of her teeth. “I <i>thought</i> + you were like that!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “Ah, but you were sure to see it!” + </p> + <p> + “You could ‘a’ seen a Neapolitan woman yesterday, Cora,” + said Hedrick, obligingly, “if you’d looked out the front + window. She was working a hurdy-gurdy up and down this neighbourhood all + afternoon.” He turned genially to face his sister, and added: + “Ray Vilas used to say there were lots of pretty girls in Lexington.” + </p> + <p> + Cora sprang to her feet. “You’re not smoking,” she said + to Corliss hurriedly, as upon a sudden discovery. “Let me get you + some matches.” + </p> + <p> + She had entered the house before he could protest, and Hedrick, looking + down the hall, was acutely aware that she dived desperately into the + library. But, however tragic the cry for justice she uttered there, it + certainly was not prolonged; and the almost instantaneous quickness of her + reappearance upon the porch, with matches in her hand, made this one of + the occasions when her brother had to admit that in her own line Cora was + a miracle. + </p> + <p> + “So thoughtless of me,” she said cheerfully, resuming her + seat. She dropped the matches into Mr. Corliss’s hand with a + fleeting touch of her finger-tips upon his palm. “Of course you + wanted to smoke. I can’t think why I didn’t realize it before. + I must have——” + </p> + <p> + A voice called from within, commanding in no, uncertain tones. + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick! I should like to see you!” Hedrick rose, and, + looking neither to the right nor, to the left, went stonily into the + house, and appeared before the powers. + </p> + <p> + “Call me?” he inquired with the air of cheerful readiness to + proceed upon any errand, no matter how difficult. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Madison countered diplomacy with gloom. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what to do with you. Why can’t you let + your sister alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Has Laura been complaining of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hedrick!” said Mrs. Madison. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick himself felt the justice of her reproof: his reference to Laura + was poor work, he knew. He hung his head and began to scrape the carpet + with the side of his shoe. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’d Cora say I been doing to her?” + </p> + <p> + “You know perfectly well what you’ve been doing,” said + Mr. Madison sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all; just sitting on the steps. What’d she <i>say</i>?” + </p> + <p> + His father evidently considered it wiser not to repeat the text of + accusation. “You know what you did,” he said heavily. + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” Hedrick’s eyes became severe, and his sire’s + evasively shifted from them. + </p> + <p> + “You keep away from the porch,” said the father, uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “You mean what I said about Ray Vilas?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + Both parents looked uncomfortable, and Mr. Madison, turning a leaf in his + book, gave a mediocre imitation of an austere person resuming his reading + after an impertinent interruption. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what you mean,” said the boy accusingly. “Ray + Vilas!” + </p> + <p> + “Just you keep away from that porch.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I happened to mention Ray Vilas?” demanded Hedrick. + </p> + <p> + “You let your sister alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I got a right to know what she said, haven’t I?” + </p> + <p> + There was no response, which appeared to satisfy Hedrick perfectly. + Neither parent met his glance; the mother troubled and the father dogged, + while the boy rejoiced sternly in some occult triumph. He inflated his + scant chest in pomp and hurled at the defeated pair the well-known words: + </p> + <p> + “I wish she was <i>my</i> daughter—about five minutes!” + </p> + <p> + New sounds from without—men’s voices in greeting, and a ripple + of response from Cora somewhat lacking in enthusiasm—afforded Mr. + Madison unmistakable relief, and an errand upon which to send his deadly + offspring. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick, after a reconnaissance in the hall, obeyed at leisure. Closing + the library door nonchalantly behind him, he found himself at the foot of + a flight of unillumined back stairs, where his manner underwent a swift + alteration, for here was an adventure to be gone about with ceremony. + “Ventre St. Gris!” he muttered hoarsely, and loosened the long + rapier in the shabby sheath at his side. For, with the closing of the + door, he had become a Huguenot gentleman, over forty and a little grizzled + perhaps, but modest and unassuming; wiry, alert, lightning-quick, with a + wrist of steel and a heart of gold; and he was about to ascend the stairs + of an unknown house at Blois in total darkness. He went up, crouching, + ready for anything, without a footfall, not even causing a hideous creak; + and gained the top in safety. Here he turned into an obscure passage, and + at the end of it beheld, through an open door, a little room in which a + dark-eyed lady sat writing in a book by the light of an oil lamp. + </p> + <p> + The wary Huguenot remained in the shadow and observed her. + </p> + <p> + Laura was writing in an old ledger she had found in the attic, blank and + unused. She had rebound it herself in heavy gray leather; and fitted it + with a tiny padlock and key. She wore the key under her dress upon a very + thin silver chain round her neck. Upon the first page of the book was + written a date, now more than a year past, the month was June—and + beneath it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Love came to me to-day.” + </pre> + <p> + Nothing more was written upon that page. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + Laura, at this writing, looked piquantly unfamiliar to her brother: her + eyes were moist and bright; her cheeks were flushed and as she bent low, + intently close to the book, a loosened wavy strand of her dark hair almost + touched the page. Hedrick had never before seen her wearing an expression + so “becoming” as the eager and tremulous warmth of this; + though sometimes, at the piano, she would play in a reverie which wrought + such glamour about her that even a brother was obliged to consider her + rather handsome. She looked more than handsome now, so strangely lovely, + in fact, that his eyes watered painfully with the protracted struggle to + read a little of the writing in her book before she discovered him. + </p> + <p> + He gave it up at last, and lounged forward blinking, with the air of + finding it sweet to do nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Whatch’ writin’?” he asked in simple + carelessness. + </p> + <p> + At the first sound of his movement she closed the book in a flash; then, + with a startled, protective gesture, extended her arms over it, covering + it. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Hedrick?” she asked, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the padlock for?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she panted. “What is it you want?” + </p> + <p> + “You writin’ poetry?” + </p> + <p> + Laura’s eyes dilated; she looked dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t care about your old book,” said Hedrick, + with an amused nonchalance Talleyrand might have admired. “There’s + callers, and you have to come down.” + </p> + <p> + “Who sent you?” + </p> + <p> + “A man I’ve often noticed around the house,” he replied + blightingly. “You may have seen him—I think his name’s + Madison. His wife and he both sent for you.” + </p> + <p> + One of Laura’s hands instinctively began to arrange her hair, but + the other remained upon the book. “Who is it calling?” + </p> + <p> + “Richard Lindley and that Wade Trumble.” + </p> + <p> + Laura rose, standing between her brother and the table. “Tell mother + I will come down.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick moved a little nearer, whereupon, observing his eye, she put her + right hand behind her upon the book. She was not deceived, and boys are + not only superb strategic actors sometimes, but calamitously quick. + Appearing to be unaware of her careful defence, he leaned against the wall + and crossed his feet in an original and interesting manner. + </p> + <p> + “Of course <i>you</i> understand,” he said cosily. “Cora + wants to keep this Corliss in a corner of the porch where she can coo at + him; so you and mother’ll have to raise a ballyhoo for Dick Lindley + and that Wade Trumble. It’d been funny if Dick hadn’t noticed + anybody was there and kissed her. What on earth does he want to stay + engaged to her for, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know that she is engaged to Mr. Lindley, Hedrick.” + </p> + <p> + “Get out!” he hooted. “What’s the use talking like + that to me? A blind mackerel could see she’s let poor old Lindley + think he’s High Man with her these last few months; but he’ll + have to hit the pike now, I reckon, ‘cause this Corliss is + altogether too pe-rin-sley for Dick’s class. Lee roy est mort. Vive + lee roy!” + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick, won’t you please run along? I want to change my + dress.” + </p> + <p> + “What for? There was company for dinner and you didn’t change + then.” + </p> + <p> + Laura’s flushed cheeks flushed deeper, and in her confusion she + answered too quickly. “I only have one evening gown. I—of + course I can’t wear it every night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” he returned triumphantly, “what do you + want to put it on now for?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Please</i> run along, Hedrick,” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t for this Corliss,” he persisted sharply. + “You know Dick Lindley couldn’t see anybody but Cora to save + his life, and I don’t suppose there’s a girl on earth fool + enough to dress up for that Wade Trum——” + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick!” Laura’s voice rang with a warning which he + remembered to have heard upon a few previous occasions when she had easily + proved herself physically stronger than he. “Go and tell mother I’m + coming,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He began to whistle “Beulah Land” as he went, but, with the + swift closing of the door behind him, abandoned that pathetically + optimistic hymn prematurely, after the third bar. + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later, when Laura came out and went downstairs, a fine + straight figure in her black evening gown, the Sieur de Marsac—that + hard-bitten Huguenot, whose middle-aged shabbiness was but the outward and + deceptive seeming of the longest head and the best sword in France—emerged + cautiously from the passageway and stood listening until her footsteps + were heard descending the front stairs. Nevertheless, the most painstaking + search of her room, a search as systematic as it was feverish, failed to + reveal where she had hidden the book. + </p> + <p> + He returned wearily to the porch. + </p> + <p> + A prophet has always been supposed to take some pleasure, perhaps morbid, + in seeing his predictions fulfilled; and it may have been a consolation to + the gloomy heart of Hedrick, sorely injured by Laura’s offensive + care of her treasure, to find the grouping upon the porch as he had + foretold: Cora and Mr. Corliss sitting a little aloof from the others, far + enough to permit their holding an indistinct and murmurous conversation of + their own. Their sequestration, even by so short a distance, gave them an + appearance of intimacy which probably accounted for the rather absent + greeting bestowed by Mr. Lindley upon the son of the house, who met him + with some favour. + </p> + <p> + This Richard Lindley was a thin, friendly looking young man with a + pleasing, old-fashioned face which suggested that if he were minded to be + portrayed it should be by the daguerreotype, and that a high, black stock + would have been more suitable to him than his businesslike, modern + neck-gear. He had fine eyes, which seemed habitually concerned with + faraway things, though when he looked at Cora they sparkled; however, it + cannot be said that the sparkling continued at its brightest when his + glance wandered (as it not infrequently did this evening) from her lovely + head to the rose in Mr. Corliss’s white coat. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick, resuming a position upon the top step between the two groups, + found the conversation of the larger annoying because it prevented him + from hearing that of the smaller. It was carried on for the greater part + by his mother and Mr. Trumble; Laura sat silent between these two; and + Lindley’s mood was obviously contemplative. Mr. Wade Trumble, + twenty-six, small, earnest, and already beginning to lose his hair, was + talkative enough. + </p> + <p> + He was one of those people who are so continuously aggressive that they + are negligible. “What’s the matter here? Nobody pays any + attention to me. I’M important!” He might have had that legend + engraved on his card, it spoke from everything else that was his: face, + voice, gesture—even from his clothes, for they also clamoured for + attention without receiving it. Worn by another man, their extravagance of + shape and shade might have advertised a self-sacrificing effort for the + picturesque; but upon Mr. Trumble they paradoxically confirmed an + impression that he was well off and close. Certainly this was the + impression confirmed in the mind of the shrewdest and most experienced + observer on that veranda. The accomplished Valentine Corliss was quite + able to share Cora’s detachment satisfactorily, and be very actively + aware of other things at the same time. For instance: Richard Lindley’s + preoccupation had neither escaped him nor remained unconnected in his mind + with that gentleman’s somewhat attentive notice of the present + position of a certain rose. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trumble took up Mrs. Madison’s placid weather talk as if it had + been a flaunting challenge; he made it a matter of conscience and for + argument; for he was a doughty champion, it appeared, when nothings were + in question, one of those stern men who will have accuracy in the banal, + insisting upon portent in talk meant to be slid over as mere courteous + sound. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about that, now,” he said with severe + emphasis. “I don’t know about that at all. I can’t say I + agree with you. In fact, I do not agree with you: it was hotter in the + early part of July, year before last, than it has been at any time this + summer. Several degrees hotter—several degrees.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear I must beg to differ with you,” he said, catching the + poor lady again, a moment later. “I beg to differ decidedly. Other + places get a great deal more heat. Look at Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to disagree,” he interrupted her at once, when she + pathetically squirmed to another subject. “There’s more than + one side to this matter. You are looking at this matter from a totally + wrong angle. . . . Let me inform you that statistics. . . .” Mrs. + Madison’s gentle voice was no more than just audible in the short + intervals he permitted; a blind listener would have thought Mr. Trumble at + the telephone. Hedrick was thankful when his mother finally gave up + altogether the display of her ignorance, inaccuracy, and general + misinformation, and Trumble talked alone. That must have been the young + man’s object; certainly he had struggled for it; and so it must have + pleased him. He talked on and on and on; he passed from one topic to + another with no pause; swinging over the gaps with a “Now you take,” + or, “And that reminds me,” filling many a vacancy with “So-and-so + and so-and-so,” and other stencils, while casting about for material + to continue. Everything was italicized, the significant and the trivial, + to the same monotone of emphasis. Death and shoe-laces were all the same + to him. + </p> + <p> + Anything was all the same to him so long as he talked. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick’s irritation was gradually dispelled; and, becoming used to + the sound, he found it lulling; relaxed his attitude and drowsed; Mr. + Lindley was obviously lost in a reverie; Mrs. Madison, her hand shading + her eyes, went over her market-list for the morrow and otherwise set her + house in order; Laura alone sat straight in her chair; and her face was + toward the vocalist, but as she was in deep shadow her expression could + not be guessed. However, one person in that group must have listened with + genuine pleasure—else why did he talk? + </p> + <p> + It was the returned native whose departure at last rang the curtain on the + monologue. The end of the long sheltered seclusion of Cora and her + companion was a whispered word. He spoke it first: + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Cora gave a keen, quick, indrawn sigh—not of sorrow—and sank + back in her chair, as he touched her hand in farewell and rose to go. She + remained where she was, motionless and silent in the dark, while he + crossed to Mrs. Madison, and prefaced a leave-taking unusually formal for + these precincts with his mannered bow. He shook hands with Richard + Lindley, asking genially: + </p> + <p> + “Do you still live where you did—just below here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “When I passed by there this afternoon,” said Corliss, “it + recalled a stupendous conflict we had, once upon a time; but I couldn’t + remember the cause.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember the cause,” said Mr. Lindley, but, stopping rather + short, omitted to state it. “At all events, it was settled.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the other quietly. “You whipped me.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I so?” Corliss laughed gayly. “We mustn’t let + it happen again!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trumble joined the parting guest, making simultaneous adieus with + unmistakable elation. Mr. Trumble’s dreadful entertainment had made + it a happy evening for him. + </p> + <p> + As they went down the steps together, the top of his head just above the + level of his companion’s shoulder, he lifted to Corliss a searching + gaze like an actor’s hopeful scrutiny of a new acquaintance; and + before they reached the street his bark rang eagerly on the stilly night: + “Now <i>there</i> is a point on which I beg to differ with you. . . + .” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Madison gave Lindley her hand. “I think I’ll go in. + Good-night, Richard. Come, Hedrick!” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick rose, groaning, and batted his eyes painfully as he faced the hall + light. “What’d you and this Corliss fight about?” he + asked, sleepily. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Lindley. + </p> + <p> + “You said you remembered.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I remember a lot of useless things.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what was it? I want to know what you fought about.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Hedrick,” repeated his mother, setting a gently urgent + hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t,” said the boy impatiently, shaking her off and + growing suddenly very wideawake and determined. “I won’t move + a step till he tells me what they fought about. Not a step!” + </p> + <p> + “Well—it was about a `show.’ We were only boys, you know—younger + than you, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “A circus?” + </p> + <p> + “A boy-circus he and my brother got up in our yard. I wasn’t + in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what did you fight about?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought Val Corliss wasn’t quite fair to my brother. That’s + all.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn’t! How wasn’t he fair?” + </p> + <p> + “They sold tickets to the other boys; and I thought my brother didn’t + get his share.” + </p> + <p> + “This Corliss kept it all?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, something like that,” said Lindley, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Probably I was in the wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “And he licked you?” + </p> + <p> + “All over the place!” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I’d seen it,” said Hedrick, not + unsympathetically, but as a sportsman. And he consented to be led away. + </p> + <p> + Laura had been standing at the top of the steps looking down the street, + where Corliss and his brisk companion had emerged momentarily from deep + shadows under the trees into the illumination of a swinging arc-lamp at + the corner. They disappeared; and she turned, and, smiling, gave the + delaying guest her hand in good-night. + </p> + <p> + His expression, which was somewhat troubled, changed to one of surprise as + her face came into the light, for it was transfigured. Deeply flushed, her + eyes luminous, she wore that shining look Hedrick had seen as she wrote in + her secret book. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Laura!” said Lindley, wondering. + </p> + <p> + She said good-night again, and went in slowly. As she reached the foot of + the stairs, she heard him moving a chair upon the porch, and Cora speaking + sharply: + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t sit close to me!” There was a sudden + shrillness in the voice of honey, and the six words were run so rapidly + together they seemed to form but one. After a moment Cora added, with a + deprecatory ripple of laughter not quite free from the same shrillness: + </p> + <p> + “You see, Richard, it’s so—it’s so hot, to-night.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + Half an hour later, when Lindley had gone, Cora closed the front doors in + a manner which drew an immediate cry of agony from the room where her + father was trying to sleep. She stood on tiptoe to turn out the gas-light + in the hall; but for a time the key resisted the insufficient pressure of + her finger-tips: the little orange flame, with its black-green crescent + over the armature, so maliciously like the “eye” of a peacock + feather, limned the exquisite planes of the upturned face; modelled them + with soft and regular shadows; painted a sullen loveliness. The key turned + a little, but not enough; and she whispered to herself a monosyllable not + usually attributed to the vocabulary of a damsel of rank. Next moment, her + expression flashed in a brilliant change, like that of a pouting child + suddenly remembering that tomorrow is Christmas. The key surrendered + instantly, and she ran gayly up the familiar stairs in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + The transom of Laura’s door shone brightly; but the knob, turning + uselessly in Cora’s hand, proved the door itself not so hospitable. + There was a brief rustling within the room; the bolt snapped, and Laura + opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Laura,” said Cora, observing her sister with transient + curiosity, “you haven’t undressed. What have you been doing? + Something’s the matter with you. I know what it is,” she + added, laughing, as she seated herself on the edge of the old black-walnut + bed. “You’re in love with Wade Trumble!” + </p> + <p> + “He’s a strong man,” observed Laura. “A remarkable + throat.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible little person!” said Cora, forgetting what she owed + the unfortunate Mr. Trumble for the vocal wall which had so effectively + sheltered her earlier in the evening. “He’s like one of those + booming June-bugs, batting against the walls, falling into lamp-chimneys——-” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t get very near the light he wants,” said + Laura. + </p> + <p> + “Me? Yes, he would like to, the rat! But he’s consoled when he + can get any one to listen to his awful chatter. He makes up to himself + among women for the way he gets sat on at the club. But he has his use: he + shows off the other men so, by contrast. Oh, Laura!” She lifted both + hands to her cheeks, which were beautiful with a quick suffusion of high + colour. “Isn’t he gorgeous!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Laura gently, “I’ve always thought so.” + </p> + <p> + “Now what’s the use of that?” asked Cora peevishly, + “with <i>me</i>? I didn’t mean Richard Lindley. You <i>know</i> + what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—of course—I do,” Laura said. + </p> + <p> + Cora gave her a long look in which a childlike pleading mingled with a + faint, strange trouble; then this glance wandered moodily from the face of + her sister to her own slippers, which she elevated to meet her descending + line of vision. + </p> + <p> + “And you know I can’t help it,” she said, shifting + quickly to the role of accuser. “So what’s the use of behaving + like the Pest?” She let her feet drop to the floor again, and her + voice trembled a little as she went on: “Laura, you don’t know + what I had to endure from him to-night. I really don’t think I can + stand it to live in the same house any longer with that frightful little + devil. He’s been throwing Ray Vilas’s name at me until—oh, + it was ghastly to-night! And then—then——” Her + tremulousness increased. “I haven’t said anything about it all + day, but I <i>met</i> him on the street downtown, this morning——” + </p> + <p> + “You met Vilas?” Laura looked startled. “Did he speak to + you?” + </p> + <p> + “`Speak to me!’” Cora’s exclamation shook with a + half-laugh of hysteria. “He made an awful <i>scene</i>! He came out + of the Richfield Hotel barroom on Main Street just as I was going into the + jeweller’s next door, and he stopped and bowed like a monkey, square + in front of me, and—and he took off his hat and set it on the + pavement at my feet and told me to kick it into the gutter! Everybody + stopped and stared; and I couldn’t get by him. And he said—he + said I’d kicked his heart into the gutter and he didn’t want + it to catch cold without a hat! And wouldn’t I please be so kind as + to kick——” She choked with angry mortification. “It + was horrible! People were stopping and laughing, and a rowdy began to make + fun of Ray, and pushed him, and they got into a scuffle, and I ran into + the jeweller’s and almost fainted.” + </p> + <p> + “He is insane!” said Laura, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “He’s nothing of the kind; he’s just a brute. He does it + to make people say I’m the cause of his drinking; and everybody in + this gossipy old town <i>does</i> say it—just because I got bored to + death with his everlasting do-you-love-me-to-day-as-well-as-yesterday + style of torment, and couldn’t help liking Richard better. Yes, + every old cat in town says I ruined him, and that’s what he wants + them to say. It’s so unmanly! I wish he’d die! Yes, I <i>do</i> + wish he would! Why doesn’t he kill himself?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don’t say that,” protested Laura. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? He’s threatened to enough. And I’m afraid to + go out of the house because I can’t tell when I’ll meet him or + what he’ll do. I was almost sick in that jeweller’s shop, this + morning, and so upset I came away without getting my pendant. There’s + <i>another</i> thing I’ve got to go through, I suppose!” She + pounded the yielding pillow desperately. “Oh, oh, oh! Life isn’t + worth living—it seems to me sometimes as if everybody in the world + spent his time trying to think up ways to make it harder for me! I couldn’t + have worn the pendant, though, even if I’d got it,” she went + on, becoming thoughtful. “It’s Richard’s silly old + engagement ring, you know,” she explained, lightly. “I had it + made up into a pendant, and heaven knows how I’m going to get + Richard to see it the right way. He was so unreasonable tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he cross about Mr. Corliss monopolizing you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know how he is,” said Cora. “He didn’t + speak of it exactly. But after you’d gone, he asked me——” + She stopped with a little gulp, an expression of keen distaste about her + mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he wants me to wear my ring,” she continued, with sudden + rapidity: “and how the dickens <i>can</i> I when I can’t even + tell him it’s been made into a pendant! He wants to speak to father; + he wants to <i>announce</i> it. He’s sold out his business for what + he thinks is a good deal of money, and he wants me to marry him next month + and take some miserable little trip, I don’t know where, for a few + weeks, before he invests what he’s made in another business. Oh!” + she cried. “It’s a <i>horrible</i> thing to ask a girl to do: + to settle down—just housekeeping, housekeeping, housekeeping forever + in this stupid, stupid town! It’s so unfair! Men are just + possessive; they think it’s loving you to want to possess you + themselves. A beautiful `love’! It’s so mean! Men!” She + sprang up and threw out both arms in a vehement gesture of revolt. “Damn + 'em, I wish they’d let me <i>alone</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Laura’s eyes had lost their quiet; they showed a glint of tears, and + she was breathing quickly. In this crisis of emotion the two girls went to + each other silently; Cora turned, and Laura began to unfasten Cora’s + dress in the back. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Richard!” said Laura presently, putting into her mouth a + tiny pearl button which had detached itself at her touch. “This was + his first evening in the overflow. No wonder he was troubled!” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Cora. “As if you and mamma weren’t + good enough for him to talk to! He’s spoiled. He’s so used to + being called `the most popular man in town’ and knowing that every + girl on Corliss Street wanted to marry him——” She broke + off, and exclaimed sharply: “I wish they would!” + </p> + <p> + “Cora!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I suppose you mean that’s the reason <i>I</i> went in for + him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” explained Laura hurriedly. “I only meant, + stand still.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was!” And Cora’s abrupt laugh had the glad, + free ring fancy attaches to the merry confidences of a buccaneer in + trusted company. + </p> + <p> + Laura knelt to continue unfastening the dress; and when it was finished + she extended three of the tiny buttons in her hand. “They’re + always loose on a new dress,” she said. “I’ll sew them + all on tight, to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Cora smiled lovingly. “You good old thing,” she said. “You + looked pretty to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s nice!” Laura laughed, as she dropped the buttons + into a little drawer of her bureau. It was an ugly, cheap, old bureau, its + veneer loosened and peeling, the mirror small and flawed—a piece of + furniture in keeping with the room, which was small, plain and hot, its + only ornamental adjunct being a silver-framed photograph of Mrs. Madison, + with Cora, as a child of seven or eight, upon her lap. + </p> + <p> + “You really do look ever so pretty,” asserted Cora. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if I look as well as I did the last time I heard I was + pretty,” said the other. “That was at the Assembly in March. + Coming down the stairs, I heard a man from out of town say, `That + black-haired Miss Madison is a pretty girl.’ And some one with him + said, `Yes; you’ll think so until you meet her sister!’” + </p> + <p> + “You are an old dear!” Cora enfolded her delightedly; then, + drawing back, exclaimed: “You <i>know</i> he’s gorgeous!” + And with a feverish little ripple of laughter, caught her dress together + in the back and sped through the hall to her own room. + </p> + <p> + This was a very different affair from Laura’s, much cooler and + larger; occupying half the width of the house; and a rather expensive + struggle had made it pretty and even luxurious. The window curtains and + the wall-paper were fresh, and of a quiet blue; there was a large divan of + the same colour; a light desk, prettily equipped, occupied a corner; and + between two gilt gas-brackets, whose patent burners were shielded by + fringed silk shades, stood a cheval-glass six feet high. The door of a + very large clothes-pantry stood open, showing a fine company of dresses, + suspended from forms in an orderly manner; near by, a rosewood cabinet + exhibited a delicate collection of shoes and slippers upon its four + shelves. A dressing-table, charmingly littered with everything, took the + place of a bureau; and upon it, in a massive silver frame, was a large + photograph of Mr. Richard Lindley. The frame was handsome, but somewhat + battered: it had seen service. However, the photograph was quite new. + </p> + <p> + There were photographs everywhere—photographs framed and unframed; + photographs large and photographs small, the fresh and the faded; + tintypes, kodaks, “full lengths,” “cabinets,” + groups—every kind of photograph; and among them were several of Cora + herself, one of her mother, one of Laura, and two others of girls. All the + rest were sterner. Two or three were seamed across with cracks, hastily + recalled sentences to destruction; and here and there remained tokens of a + draughtsman’s over-generous struggle to confer upon some of the + smooth-shaven faces additional manliness in the shape of sweeping + moustaches, long beards, goatees, mutton-chops, and, in the case of one + gentleman of a blond, delicate and tenor-like beauty, neck-whiskers;—decorations + in many instances so deeply and damply pencilled that subsequent attempts + at erasure had failed of great success. Certainly, Hedrick had his own way + of relieving dull times. + </p> + <p> + Cora turned up the lights at the sides of the cheval-glass, looked at + herself earnestly, then absently, and began to loosen her hair. Her lifted + hands hesitated; she re-arranged the slight displacement of her hair + already effected; set two chairs before the mirror, seated herself in one; + pulled up her dress, where it was slipping from her shoulder, rested an + arm upon the back of the other chair as, earlier in the evening, she had + rested it upon the iron railing of the porch, and, leaning forward, + assumed as exactly as possible the attitude in which she had sat so long + beside Valentine Corliss. She leaned very slowly closer and yet closer to + the mirror; a rich colour spread over her; her eyes, gazing into + themselves, became dreamy, inexpressibly wistful, cloudily sweet; her + breath was tumultuous. “`Even as you and I’?” she + whispered. + </p> + <p> + Then, in the final moment of this after-the-fact rehearsal, as her face + almost touched the glass, she forgot how and what she had looked to + Corliss; she forgot him; she forgot him utterly: she leaped to her feet + and kissed the mirrored lips with a sort of passion. + </p> + <p> + “You <i>darling</i>!” she cried. Cora’s christening had + been unimaginative, for the name means only, “maiden.” She + should have been called Narcissa. + </p> + <p> + The rhapsody was over instantly, leaving an emotional vacuum like a + silence at the dentist’s. Cora yawned, and resumed the loosening of + her hair. + </p> + <p> + When she had put on her nightgown, she went from one window to another, + closing the shutters against the coming of the morning light to wake her. + As she reached the last window, a sudden high wind rushed among the trees + outside; a white flare leaped at her face, startling her; there was a boom + and rattle as of the brasses, cymbals, and kettle-drums of some fatal + orchestra; and almost at once it began to rain. + </p> + <p> + And with that, from the distance came a voice, singing; and at the first + sound of it, though it was far away and almost indistinguishable, Cora + started more violently than at the lightning; she sprang to the mirror + lights, put them out; threw herself upon the bed, and huddled there in the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + The wind passed; the heart of the storm was miles away; this was only its + fringe; but the rain pattered sharply upon the thick foliage outside her + windows; and the singing voice came slowly up the street. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange voice: high-pitched and hoarse—and not quite human, + so utter was the animal abandon of it. + </p> + <p> + “I love a lassie, a bonnie, bonnie lassie,” it wailed and + piped, coming nearer; and the gay little air—wrought to a grotesque + of itself by this wild, high voice in the rain—might have been a + banshee’s love-song. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I love a lassie, a bonnie, bonnie lassie. + She’s as pure as the lily in the dell——” + </pre> + <p> + The voice grew louder; came in front of the house; came into the yard; + came and sang just under Cora’s window. There it fell silent a + moment; then was lifted in a long peal of imbecile laughter, and sang + again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Then slowly, slowly rase she up + And slowly she came nigh him, + And when she drew the curtain by— + `Young man I think you’re dyin’.’” + </pre> + <p> + Cora’s door opened and closed softly, and Laura, barefooted, stole + to the bed and put an arm about the shaking form of her sister. + </p> + <p> + “The drunken beast!” sobbed Cora. “It’s to + disgrace me! That’s what he wants. He’d like nothing better + than headlines in the papers: `Ray Vilas arrested at the Madison residence’!” + She choked with anger and mortification. “The neighbours——” + </p> + <p> + “They’re nearly all away,” whispered Laura. “You + needn’t fear——” + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” + </p> + <p> + The voice stopped singing, and began to mumble incoherently; then it rose + again in a lamentable outcry: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God of the fallen, be Thou merciful to me! Be Thou merciful—merciful—<i>merciful</i>” + . . . + </p> + <p> + “MERCIFUL, MERCIFUL, MERCIFUL!” it shrieked, over and over, + with increasing loudness, and to such nerve-racking effect that Cora, + gasping, beat the bedclothes frantically with her hands at each iteration. + </p> + <p> + The transom over the door became luminous; some one had lighted the gas in + the upper hall. Both girls jumped from the bed, ran to the door, and + opened it. Their mother, wearing a red wrapper, was standing at the head + of the stairs, which Mr. Madison, in his night-shirt and slippers, was + slowly and heavily descending. + </p> + <p> + Before he reached the front door, the voice outside ceased its dreadful + plaint with the abrupt anti-climax of a phonograph stopped in the middle + of a record. There was the sound of a struggle and wrestling, a turmoil in + the wet shrubberies, branches cracking. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go, da——” cried the voice, drowned again + at half a word, as by a powerful hand upon a screaming mouth. + </p> + <p> + The old man opened the front door, stepped out, closing it behind him; and + the three women looked at each other wanly during a hushed interval like + that in a sleeping-car at night when the train stops. Presently he came in + again, and started up the stairs, heavily and slowly, as he had gone down. + </p> + <p> + “Richard Lindley stopped him,” he said, sighing with the + ascent, and not looking up. “He heard him as he came along the + street, and dressed as quick as he could, and ran up and got him. Richard’s + taken him away.” + </p> + <p> + He went to his own room, panting, mopping his damp gray hair with his fat + wrist, and looking at no one. + </p> + <p> + Cora began to cry again. It was an hour before any of this family had + recovered sufficient poise to realize, with the shuddering gratitude of + adventurers spared from the abyss, that, under Providence, Hedrick had not + wakened! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> + <p> + Much light shatters much loveliness; but a pretty girl who looks pretty + outdoors on a dazzling hot summer morning is prettier then than ever. Cora + knew it; of course she knew it; she knew exactly how she looked, as she + left the concrete bridge behind her at the upper end of Corliss Street and + turned into a shrub-bordered bypath of the river park. In imagination she + stood at the turn of the path just ahead, watching her own approach: she + saw herself as a picture—the white-domed parasol, with its cheerful + pale-green lining, a background for her white hat, her corn-silk hair, and + her delicately flushed face. She saw her pale, live arms through their + thin sleeves, and the light grasp of her gloved fingers upon the + glistening stick of the parasol; she saw the long, simple lines of her + close white dress and their graceful interchanging movements with the + alternate advance of her white shoes over the fine gravel path; she saw + the dazzling splashes of sunshine playing upon her through the changeful + branches overhead. Cora never lacked a gallery: she sat there herself. + </p> + <p> + She refreshed the eyes of a respectable burgess of sixty, a person so + colourless that no one, after passing him, could have remembered anything + about him except that he wore glasses and some sort of moustache; and to + Cora’s vision he was as near transparent as any man could be, yet + she did not miss the almost imperceptible signs of his approval, as they + met and continued on their opposite ways. She did not glance round, nor + did he pause in his slow walk; neither was she clairvoyant; none the less, + she knew that he turned his head and looked back at her. + </p> + <p> + The path led away from the drives and more public walks of the park, to a + low hill, thoughtfully untouched by the gardener and left to the shadowy + thickets and good-smelling underbrush of its rich native woodland. And + here, by a brown bench, waited a tall gentleman in white. + </p> + <p> + They touched hands and sat without speaking. For several moments they + continued the silence, then turned slowly and looked at each other; then + looked slowly and gravely away, as if to an audience in front of them. + They knew how to do it; but probably a critic in the first row would have + concluded that Cora felt it even more than Valentine Corliss enjoyed it. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose this is very clandestine,” she said, after a deep + breath. “I don’t think I care, though.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you do,” he smiled, “so that I could think your + coming means more.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll care,” she said, and looked at him again. + </p> + <p> + “You dear!” he exclaimed deliberately. + </p> + <p> + She bit her lip and looked down, but not before he had seen the quick + dilation of her ardent eyes. “I wanted to be out of doors,” + she said. “I’m afraid there’s one thing of yours I don’t + like, Mr. Corliss.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll throw it away, then. Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your house. I don’t like living in it, very much. I’m + sorry you <i>can’t</i> throw it away.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m thinking of doing that very thing,” he laughed. + “But I’m glad I found the rose in that queer old waste-basket + first.” + </p> + <p> + “Not too much like a rose, sometimes,” she said. “I + think this morning I’m a little like some of the old doors up on the + third floor: I feel rather unhinged, Mr. Corliss.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t look it, Miss Madison!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t sleep very well.” She bestowed upon him a + glance which transmuted her actual explanation into, “I couldn’t + sleep for thinking of you.” It was perfectly definite; but the acute + gentleman laughed genially. + </p> + <p> + “Go on with you!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes sparkled, and she joined laughter with him. “But it’s + true: you did keep me awake. Besides, I had a serenade.” + </p> + <p> + “Serenade? I had an idea they didn’t do that any more over + here. I remember the young men going about at night with an orchestra + sometimes when I was a boy, but I supposed——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it wasn’t much like that,” she interrupted, + carelessly. “I don’t think that sort of thing has been done + for years and years. It wasn’t an orchestra—just a man singing + under my window.” + </p> + <p> + “With a guitar?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” She laughed a little. “Just singing.” + </p> + <p> + “But it rained last night,” said Corliss, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>he</i> wouldn’t mind that!” + </p> + <p> + “How stupid of me! Of course, he wouldn’t. Was it Richard + Lindley?” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Yes, that was a bad guess: I’m sure Lindley’s + just the same steady-going, sober, plodding old horse he was as a boy. His + picture doesn’t fit a romantic frame—singing under a lady’s + window in a thunderstorm! Your serenader must have been very young.” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” said Cora. “I suppose he’s about + twenty-three; just a boy—and a very annoying one, too!” + </p> + <p> + Her companion looked at her narrowly. “By any chance, is he the + person your little brother seemed so fond of mentioning—Mr. Vilas?” + </p> + <p> + Cora gave a genuine start. “Good heavens! What makes you think that?” + she cried, but she was sufficiently disconcerted to confirm his amused + suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “So it was Mr. Vilas,” he said. “He’s one of the + jilted, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, `jilted’!” she exclaimed. “All the wild boys + that a girl can’t make herself like aren’t `jilted,’ are + they?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I should say—yes,” he returned. “Yes, + in this instance, just about all of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Is every woman a target for you, Mr. Corliss? I suppose you know + that you have a most uncomfortable way of shooting up the landscape.” + She stirred uneasily, and moved away from him to the other end of the + bench. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t miss that time,” he laughed. “Don’t + you ever miss?” + </p> + <p> + He leaned quickly toward her and answered in a low voice: “You can + be sure I’m not going to miss anything about <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + It was as if his bending near her had been to rouge her. But it cannot be + said that she disliked his effect upon her; for the deep breath she drew + in audibly, through her shut teeth, was a signal of delight; and then + followed one of those fraught silences not uncharacteristic of dialogues + with Cora. + </p> + <p> + Presently, she gracefully and uselessly smoothed her hair from the left + temple with the backs of her fingers, of course finishing the gesture + prettily by tucking in a hairpin tighter above the nape of her neck. Then, + with recovered coolness, she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Did you come all the way from Italy just to sell our old house, Mr. + Corliss?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that was part of why I came,” he said, gayly. “I + need a great deal of money, Miss Cora Madison.” + </p> + <p> + “For your villa and your yacht?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I’m a magician, dear lady——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, almost angrily. “Of course you know it!” + </p> + <p> + “You mock me! No; I’m going to make everybody rich who will + trust me. I have a secret, and it’s worth a mountain of gold. I’ve + put all I have into it, and will put in everything else I can get for + myself, but it’s going to take a great deal more than that. And + everybody who goes into it will come out on Monte Cristo’s island.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’m sorry papa hasn’t anything to put in,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + “But he has: his experience in business and his integrity. I want + him to be secretary of my company. Will you help me to get him?” he + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to?” she asked with a quick, serious glance + straight in his eyes, one which he met admirably. + </p> + <p> + “I have an extremely definite impression,” he said lightly, + “that you can make anybody you know do just what you want him to.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have another that you have still another `extremely definite + impression’ that takes rank over that,” she said, but not with + his lightness, for her tone was faintly rueful. “It is that you can + make <i>me</i> do just what you want me to.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Valentine Corliss threw himself back on the bench and laughed aloud. + “What a girl!” he cried. Then for a fraction of a second he + set his hand over hers, an evanescent touch at which her whole body + started and visibly thrilled. + </p> + <p> + She lifted her gloved hand and looked at it with an odd wonder; her alert + emotions, always too ready, flinging their banners to her cheeks again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t think it’s soiled,” he said, a speech + which she punished with a look of starry contempt. For an instant she made + him afraid that something had gone wrong with his measuring tape; but with + a slow movement she set her hand softly against her hot cheek; and he was + reassured: it was not his touching her that had offended her, but the + allusion to it. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” he said, very softly. + </p> + <p> + She dropped her hand to her parasol, and began, musingly, to dig little + holes in the gravel of the path. “Richard Lindley is looking for + investments,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad to hear he’s been so successful,” + returned Corliss. + </p> + <p> + “He might like a share in your gold-mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven it isn’t literally a gold-mine,” he + exclaimed. “There have been so many crooked ones exploited I don’t + believe you could get anybody nowadays to come in on a real one. But I + think you’d make an excellent partner for an adventurer who had + discovered hidden treasure; and I’m that particular kind of + adventurer. I think I’ll take you in.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “How would you like to save a man from being ruined?” + </p> + <p> + “Ruined? You don’t mean it literally?” + </p> + <p> + “Literally!” He laughed gayly. “If I don’t `land’ + this I’m gone, smashed, finished—quite ended! Don’t + bother, I’m going to `land’ it. And it’s rather a + serious compliment I’m paying you, thinking you can help me. I’d + like to see a woman—just once in the world—who could manage a + thing like this.” He became suddenly very grave. “Good God! + wouldn’t I be at her feet!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes became even more eager. “You think I—I <i>might</i> + be a woman who could?” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows, Miss Madison? I believe——” He stopped + abruptly, then in a lowered, graver voice asked: “Doesn’t it + somehow seem a little queer to you when we call each other, `Miss Madison’ + and `Mr. Corliss’?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered slowly; “it does.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn’t it seem to you,” he went on, in the same tone, + “that we only `Miss’ and `Mister’ each other in fun? + That though you never saw me until yesterday, we’ve gone pretty far + beyond mere surfaces? That we did in our talk, last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she repeated; “it does.” + </p> + <p> + He let a pause follow, and then said huskily: + </p> + <p> + “How far are we going?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” She was barely audible; but she turned + deliberately, and there took place an eager exchange of looks which + continued a long while. At last, and without ending this serious + encounter, she whispered: + </p> + <p> + “How far do <i>you</i> think?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Corliss did not answer, and a peculiar phenomenon became vaguely + evident to the girl facing him: his eyes were still fixed full upon hers, + but he was not actually looking at her; nevertheless, and with an + extraordinarily acute attention, he was unquestionably looking at + something. The direct front of pupil and iris did not waver from her; but + for the time he was not aware of her; had not even heard her question. + Something in the outer field of his vision had suddenly and completely + engrossed him; something in that nebulous and hazy background which we + see, as we say, with the white of the eye. Cora instinctively turned and + looked behind her, down the path. + </p> + <p> + There was no one in sight except a little girl and the elderly burgess who + had glanced over his shoulder at Cora as she entered the park; and he was, + in face, mien, and attire, so thoroughly the unnoticeable, average + man-on-the-street that she did not even recall him as the looker-round of + a little while ago. He was strolling benevolently, the little girl + clinging to one of his hands, the other holding an apple; and a composite + photograph of a thousand grandfathers might have resulted in this man’s + picture. + </p> + <p> + As the man and little girl came slowly up the walk toward the couple on + the bench there was a faint tinkle at Cora’s feet: her companion’s + scarfpin, which had fallen from his tie. He was maladroit about picking it + up, trying with thumb and forefinger to seize the pin itself, instead of + the more readily grasped design of small pearls at the top, so that he + pushed it a little deeper into the gravel; and then occurred a tiny + coincidence: the elderly man, passing, let fall the apple from his hand, + and it rolled toward the pin just as Corliss managed to secure the latter. + For an instant, though the situation was so absolutely commonplace, so + casual, Cora had a wandering consciousness of some mysterious tensity; a + feeling like the premonition of a crisis very near at hand. This sensation + was the more curious because nothing whatever happened. The man got his + apple, joined in the child’s laughter, and went on. + </p> + <p> + “What was it you asked me?” said Corliss, lifting his head + again and restoring the pin to his tie. He gazed carelessly at the back of + the grandsire, disappearing beyond a bush at a bend in the path. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that man?” said Cora with some curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “That old fellow? I haven’t an idea. You see I’ve been + away from here so many years I remember almost no one. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, unless it was because I had an idea you were + thinking of him instead of me. You didn’t listen to what I said.” + </p> + <p> + “That was because I was thinking so intensely of you,” he + began instantly. “A startlingly vivid thought of you came to me just + then. Didn’t I look like a man in a trance?” + </p> + <p> + “What was the thought?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a picture: I saw you standing under a great bulging sail, + and the water flying by in moonlight; oh, a moon and a night such as you + have never seen! and a big blue headland looming up against the moon, and + crowned with lemon groves and vineyards, all sparkling with fireflies—old + watch-towers and the roofs of white villas gleaming among olive orchards + on the slopes—the sound of mandolins——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she sighed, the elderly man, his grandchild, and his + apple well-forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it was a prophecy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “What do <i>you</i> think?” she breathed. “That was + really what I asked you before.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said slowly, “that I’m in danger of + forgetting that my `hidden treasure’ is the most important thing in + the world.” + </p> + <p> + “In great danger?” The words were not vocal. + </p> + <p> + He moved close to her; their eyes met again, with increased eagerness, and + held fast; she was trembling, visibly; and her lips—parted with her + tumultuous breathing—were not far from his. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t any man in great danger,” he said, “if he + falls in love with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + Toward four o’clock that afternoon, a very thin, fair young man + shakily heaved himself into a hammock under the trees in that broad + backyard wherein, as Valentine Corliss had yesterday noticed, the last + iron monarch of the herd, with unabated arrogance, had entered domestic + service as a clothes-prop. The young man, who was of delicate appearance + and unhumanly pale, stretched himself at full length on his back, closed + his eyes, moaned feebly, cursed the heat in a stricken whisper. Then, as a + locust directly overhead violently shattered the silence, and seemed like + to continue the outrage forever, the shaken lounger stopped his ears with + his fingers and addressed the insect in old Saxon. + </p> + <p> + A white jacketed mulatto came from the house bearing something on a silver + tray. + </p> + <p> + “Julip, Mist’ Vilas?” he said sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + Ray Vilas rustily manoeuvred into a sitting position; and, with eyes still + closed, made shift to accept the julep in both hands, drained half of it, + opened his eyes, and thanked the cup-bearer feebly, in a voice and accent + reminiscent of the melodious South. + </p> + <p> + “And I wonder,” he added, “if you can tell me——” + </p> + <p> + “I’m Miz William Lindley’s house-man, Joe Vaxdens,” + said the mulatto, in the tone of an indulgent nurse. “You in Miz + Lindley’s backyard right now, sittin’ in a hammick.” + </p> + <p> + “I seem to gather almost that much for myself,” returned the + patient. “But I should like to know how I got here.” + </p> + <p> + “Jes’ come out the front door an’ walk’ aroun’ + the house an’ set down. Mist’ Richard had to go downtown; tole + me not to wake you; but I heerd you splashin’ in the bath an’ + you tole me you din’ want no breakfuss——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Joe, I’m aware of what’s occurred since I woke,” + said Vilas, and, throwing away the straws, finished the julep at one + draught. “What I want to know is how I happened to be here at Mr. + Lindley’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Mist’ Richard brought you las’ night, suh. I don’ + know where he got you, but I heered a considerable thrashum aroun’, + up an’ down the house, an’ so I come help him git you to bed + in one vem spare-rooms.” Joe chuckled ingratiatingly. “Lord + name! You cert’n’y wasn’t askin’ fer no <i>bed</i>!” + </p> + <p> + He took the glass, and the young man reclined again in the hammock, a hot + blush vanquishing his pallor. “Was I—was I very bad, Joe?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you was all <i>right</i>,” Joe hastened to reassure him. + “You was jes’ on’y a little bit tight.” + </p> + <p> + “Did it really seem only a little?” the other asked hopefully. + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh,” said Joe promptly. “Nothin’ at all. You + jes’ wanted to rare roun’ little bit. Mist’ Richard took + gun away from you——” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I tole him you wasn’ goin’ use it!” Joe + laughed. “But you so wile be din’ know what you do. You cert’n’y + was drunkes’ man <i>I</i> see in <i>long</i> while,” he said + admiringly. “You pert near had us bofe wore out ‘fore you give + up, an’ Mist’ Richard an’ me, we <i>use’’</i> + to han’lin’ drunkum man, too—use’ to have big + times week-in, week-out ‘ith Mist’ Will—at’s Mist’ + Richard’s brother, you know, suh, what died o’ whiskey.” + He laughed again in high good-humour. “You cert’n’y laid + it all over any vem ole times we had ‘ith Mist’ Will!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vilas shifted his position in the hammock uneasily; Joe’s honest + intentions to be of cheer to the sufferer were not wholly successful. + </p> + <p> + “I tole Mist’ Richard,” the kindly servitor continued, + “it was a mighty good thing his ma gone up Norf endurin’ the + hot spell. Sence Mist’ Will die she can’t hardly bear to see + drunkum man aroun’ the house. Mist’ Richard hardly ever tech + nothin’ himself no more. You goin’ feel better, suh, out in + the f’esh air,” he concluded, comfortingly as he moved away. + </p> + <p> + “Joe!” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vilas pulled himself upright for a moment. “What use in the + world do you reckon one julep is to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Mist’ Richard say to give you one drink ef you ask’ for + it, suh,” answered Joe, looking troubled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you’ve told me enough now about last night to make any + man hang himself, and I’m beginning to remember enough more——” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw, Mist’ Vilas,” the coloured man interrupted, + deprecatingly, “you din’ broke nothin’! You on’y + had couple glass’ wine too much. You din’ make no trouble at + all; jes’ went right off to bed. You ought seen some vem ole times + me an Mist’ Richard use to have ‘ith Mist’ Will——” + </p> + <p> + “Joe!” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh.” + </p> + <p> + “I want three more juleps and I want them right away.” + </p> + <p> + The troubled expression upon the coloured man’s face deepened. + “Mist’ Richard say jes’ one, suh,” he said + reluctantly. “I’m afraid——” + </p> + <p> + “Joe.” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Ray Vilas slowly, “whether or + not you ever heard that I was born and raised in Kentucky.” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh,” returned Joe humbly. “I heerd so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said the young man in a quiet voice, “you + go and get me three juleps. I’ll settle it with Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh.” + </p> + <p> + But it was with a fifth of these renovators that Lindley found his guest + occupied, an hour later, while upon a small table nearby a sixth, + untouched, awaited disposal beside an emptied coffee-cup. Also, Mr. Vilas + was smoking a cigarette with unshadowed pleasure; his eye was bright, his + expression care-free; and he was sitting up in the hammock, swinging + cheerfully, and singing the “Marseillaise.” Richard approached + through the yard, coming from the street without entering the house; and + anxiety was manifest in the glance he threw at the green-topped glass upon + the table, and in his greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, gloom!” returned Mr. Vilas, cordially, and, observing + the anxious glance, he swiftly removed the untouched goblet from the table + to his own immediate possession. “Two simultaneous juleps will + enhance the higher welfare,” he explained airily. “Sir, your + Mr. Varden was induced to place a somewhat larger order with us than he + protested to be your intention. Trusting you to exonerate him from all + so-and-so and that these few words, etcetera!” He depleted the elder + glass of its liquor, waved it in the air, cried, “Health, host!” + and set it upon the table. “I believe I do not err in assuming my + cup-bearer’s name to be Varden, although he himself, in his simple + Americo-Africanism, is pleased to pluralize it. Do I fret you, host?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” said Richard, dropping upon a rustic + bench, and beginning to fan himself with his straw hat. “What’s + the use of fretting about a boy who hasn’t sense enough to fret + about himself?” + </p> + <p> + “`Boy?’” Mr. Vilas affected puzzlement. “Do I hear + aright? Sir, do you boy me? Bethink you, I am now the shell of five + mint-juleps plus, and am pot-valiant. And is this mere capacity itself to + be lightly <i>boyed</i>? Again, do I not wear a man’s garment, a man’s + garnitures? Heed your answer; for this serge, these flannels, and these + silks are yours, and though I may not fill them to the utmost, I do to the + longmost, precisely. I am the stature of a man; had it not been for your + razor I should wear the beard of a man; therefore I’ll not be boyed. + What have you to say in defence?” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t you better let me get Joe to bring you something to + eat?” asked Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Eat?” Mr. Vilas disposed of the suggestion with mournful + hauteur. “There! For the once I forgive you. Let the subject never + be mentioned between us again. We will tactfully turn to a topic of + interest. My memories of last evening, at first hazy and somewhat + disconcerting, now merely amuse me. Following the pleasant Spanish custom, + I went a-serenading, but was kidnapped from beneath the precious casement + by—by a zealous arrival. Host, `zealous arrival’ is not the + julep in action: it is a triumph of paraphrase.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you’d let Joe take you back to bed,” said + Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Always bent on thoughts of the flesh,” observed the other + sadly. “Beds are for bodies, and I am become a thing of spirit. My + soul is grateful a little for your care of its casing. You behold, I am + generous: I am able to thank my successor to Carmen!” + </p> + <p> + Lindley’s back stiffened. “Vilas!” + </p> + <p> + “Spare me your protests.” The younger man waved his hand + languidly. “You wish not to confer upon this subject——” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a subject we’ll omit,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + His companion stopped swinging, allowed the hammock to come to rest; his + air of badinage fell from him; for the moment he seemed entirely sober; + and he spoke with gentleness. “Mr. Lindley, if you please, I am + still a gentleman—at times.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Richard quickly. + </p> + <p> + “No need of that!” The speaker’s former careless and + boisterous manner instantly resumed possession. “You must permit me + to speak of a wholly fictitious lady, a creature of my wanton fancy, sir, + whom I call Carmen. It will enable me to relieve my burdened soul of some + remarks I have long wished to address to your excellent self.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right,” muttered Richard, much annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “Let us imagine,” continued Mr. Vilas, beginning to swing + again, “that I thought I had won this Carmen——” + </p> + <p> + Lindley uttered an exclamation, shifted his position in his chair, and + fixed a bored attention upon the passing vehicles in the glimpse of the + street afforded between the house and the shrubberies along the side + fence. The other, without appearing to note his annoyance, went on, + cheerfully: + </p> + <p> + “She was a precocious huntress: early in youth she passed through + the accumulator stage, leaving it to the crude or village belle to rejoice + in numbers and the excitement of teasing cubs in the bear-pit. It is the + nature of this imagined Carmen to play fiercely with one imitation of love + after another: a man thinks he wins her, but it is merely that she has + chosen him—for a while. And Carmen can have what she chooses; if the + man exists who could show her that she cannot, she would follow him + through the devil’s dance; but neither you nor I would be that man, + my dear sir. We assume that Carmen’s eyes have been mine—her + heart is another matter—and that she has grown weary of my somewhat + Sicilian manner of looking into them, and, following her nature and the + law of periodicity which Carmens must bow to, she seeks a cooler gaze and + calls Mr. Richard Lindley to come and take a turn at looking. Now, Mr. + Richard Lindley is straight as a die: he will not even show that he hears + the call until he is sure that I have been dismissed: therefore, I have no + quarrel with him. Also, I cannot even hate him, for in my clearer julep + vision I see that he is but an interregnum. Let me not offend my friend: + chagrin is to be his as it is mine. I was a strong draught, he but the + quieting potion our Carmen took to settle it. We shall be brothers in woe + some day. Nothing in the universe lasts except Hell: Life is running + water; Love, a looking-glass; Death, an empty theatre! That reminds me: as + you are not listening I will sing.” + </p> + <p> + He finished his drink and lifted his voice hilariously: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The heavenly stars far above her, + The wind of the infinite sea, + Who know all her perfidy, love her, + So why call it madness in me? + Ah, why call it madness——” + </pre> + <p> + He set his glass with a crash upon the table, staring over his companion’s + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “<i>What</i>, if you please, is the royal exile who thus seeks + refuge in our hermitage?” + </p> + <p> + His host had already observed the approaching visitor with some surprise, + and none too graciously. It was Valentine Corliss: he had turned in from + the street and was crossing the lawn to join the two young men. Lindley + rose, and, greeting him with sufficient cordiality, introduced Mr. Vilas, + who bestowed upon the newcomer a very lively interest. + </p> + <p> + “You are as welcome, Mr. Corliss,” said this previous guest, + earnestly, “as if these sylvan shades were mine. I hail you, not + only for your own sake, but because your presence encourages a hope that + our host may offer refreshment to the entire company.” + </p> + <p> + Corliss smilingly declined to be a party to this diplomacy, and seated + himself beside Richard Lindley on the bench. + </p> + <p> + “Then I relapse!” exclaimed Mr. Vilas, throwing himself back + full-length in the hammock. “I am not replete, but content. I shall + meditate. Gentlemen, speak on!” + </p> + <p> + He waved his hand in a gracious gesture, indicating his intention to + remain silent, and lay quiet, his eyes fixed steadfastly upon Corliss. + </p> + <p> + “I was coming to call on you,” said the latter to Lindley, + “but I saw you from the street and thought you mightn’t mind + my being as informal as I used to be, so many years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “I have a sinister purpose in coming,” Mr. Corliss laughingly + went on. “I want to bore you a little first, and then make your + fortune. No doubt that’s an old story to you, but I happen to be one + of the adventurers whose argosies are laden with real cargoes. Nobody + knows who has or hasn’t money to invest nowadays, and of course I’ve + no means of knowing whether <i>you</i> have or not—you see what a + direct chap I am—but if you have, or can lay hold of some, I can + show you how to make it bring you an immense deal more.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” said Richard pleasantly, “I shall be glad + if you can do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll come to the point. It is exceedingly simple; that’s + certainly one attractive thing about it.” Corliss took some papers + and unmounted photographs from his pocket, and began to spread them open + on the bench between himself and Richard. “No doubt you know + Southern Italy as well as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t `know’ it. I’ve been to Naples; down + to Paestum; drove from Salerno to Sorrentoby Amalfi; but that was years + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a large scale map that will refresh your memory.” + He unfolded it and laid it across their knees; it was frayed with wear + along the folds, and had been heavily marked and dotted with red and blue + pencillings. “My millions are in this large irregular section,” + he continued. “It’s the anklebone and instep of Italy’s + boot; this sizable province called Basilicata, east of Salerno, north of + Calabria. And I’ll not hang fire on the point, Lindley. What I’ve + got there is oil.” + </p> + <p> + “Olives?” asked Richard, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Hardly!” Corliss laughed. “Though of course one doesn’t + connect petroleum with the thought of Italy, and of all Italy, Southern + Italy. But in spite of the years I’ve lived there, I’ve + discovered myself to be so essentially American and commercial that I want + to drench the surface of that antique soil with the brown, bad-smelling + crude oil that lies so deep beneath it. Basilicata is the coming great + oil-field of the world—and that’s my secret. I dare to tell it + here, as I shouldn’t dare in Naples.” + </p> + <p> + “Shouldn’t `dare’?” Richard repeated, with growing + interest, and no doubt having some vague expectation of a tale of the + Camorra. To him Naples had always seemed of all cities the most elusive + and incomprehensible, a laughing, thieving, begging, mandolin-playing, + music-and-murder haunted metropolis, about which anything was plausible; + and this impression was not unique, as no inconsiderable proportion of Mr. + Lindley’s fellow-countrymen share it, a fact thoroughly comprehended + by the returned native. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t a case of not daring on account of any bodily + danger,” explained Corliss. + </p> + <p> + “No,” Richard smiled reminiscently. “I don’t + believe that would have much weight with you if it were. You certainly + showed no symptoms of that sort in your extreme youth. I remember you had + the name of being about the most daring and foolhardy boy in town.” + </p> + <p> + “I grew up to be cautious enough in business, though,” said + the other, shaking his head gravely. “I haven’t been able to + afford not being careful.” He adjusted the map—a prefatory + gesture. “Now, I’ll make this whole affair perfectly clear to + you. It’s a simple matter, as are most big things. I’ll begin + by telling you of Moliterno—he’s been my most intimate friend + in that part of the continent for a great many years; since I went there + as a boy, in fact.” + </p> + <p> + He sketched a portrait of his friend, Prince Moliterno, bachelor chief of + a historic house, the soul of honour, “land-poor”; owning + leagues and leagues of land, hills and mountains, broken towers and ruins, + in central Basilicata, a province described as wild country and rough, off + the rails and not easy to reach. Moliterno and the narrator had gone there + to shoot; Corliss had seen “surface oil” upon the streams and + pools; he recalled the discovery of oil near his own boyhood home in + America; had talked of it to Moliterno, and both men had become more and + more interested, then excited. They decided to sink a well. + </p> + <p> + Corliss described picturesquely the difficulties of this enterprise, the + hardships and disappointments; how they dragged the big tools over the + mountains by mule power; how they had kept it all secret; how he and + Moliterno had done everything with the help of peasant labourers and one + experienced man, who had “seen service in the Persian oil-fields.” + </p> + <p> + He gave the business reality, colouring it with details relevant and + irrelevant, anecdotes and wayside incidents: he was fluent, elaborate, + explicit throughout. They sank five wells, he said, “at the angles + of this irregular pentagon you see here on the map, outlined in blue. + These red circles are the wells.” Four of the wells “came in + tremendous,” but they had managed to get them sealed after wasting—he + was “sorry to think how many thousand barrels of oil.” The + fifth well was so enormous that they had not been able to seal it at the + time of the speaker’s departure for America. + </p> + <p> + “But I had a cablegram this morning,” he added, “letting + me know they’ve managed to do it at last. Here is, the cablegram.” + He handed Richard a form signed “Antonio Moliterno.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, to go back to what I said about not `daring’ to speak of + this in Naples,” he continued, smiling. “The fear is + financial, not physical.” + </p> + <p> + The knowledge of the lucky strike, he explained, must be kept from the + “Neapolitan money-sharks.” A third of the land so rich in oil + already belonged to the Moliterno estates, but it was necessary to obtain + possession of the other two thirds “before the secret leaks into + Naples.” So far, it was safe, the peasants of Basilicata being + “as medieval a lot as one could wish.” He related that these + peasants thought that the devils hiding inside the mountains had been + stabbed by the drills, and that the oil was devils’ blood. + </p> + <p> + “You can see some of the country people hanging about, staring at a + well, in this kodak, though it’s not a very good one.” He put + into Richard’s hand a small, blurred photograph showing a spouting + well with an indistinct crowd standing in an irregular semicircle before + it. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the Basilicatan peasant costume?” asked Richard, + indicating a figure in the foreground, the only one revealed at all + definitely. “It looks more oriental. Isn’t the man wearing a + fez?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” responded Mr. Corliss very quickly. “Perhaps + I gave you the wrong picture. Oh, no,” he laughed easily, holding + the kodak closer to his eyes; “that’s all right: it is a fez. + That’s old Salviati, our engineer, the man I spoke of who’d + worked in Persia, you know; he’s always worn a fez since then. Got + in the habit of it out there and says he’ll never give it up. + Moliterno’s always chaffing him about it. He’s a faithful old + chap, Salviati.” + </p> + <p> + “I see.” Lindley looked thoughtfully at the picture, which the + other carelessly returned to his hand. “There seems to be a lot of + oil there.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s one of the smaller wells at that. And you can see from + the kodak that it’s just `blowing’—not an eruption from + being `shot,’ or the people wouldn’t stand so near. Yes; there’s + an ocean of oil under that whole province; but we want a lot of money to + get at it. It’s mountain country; our wells will all have to go over + fifteen-hundred feet, and that’s expensive. We want to pipe the oil + to Salerno, where the Standard’s ships will take it from us, and it + will need a great deal for that. But most of all we want money to get hold + of the land; we must control the whole field, and it’s big!” + </p> + <p> + “How did you happen to come here to finance it?” + </p> + <p> + “I was getting to that. Moliterno himself is as honourable a man as + breathes God’s air. But my experience has been that Neapolitan + capitalists are about the cleverest and slipperiest financiers in the + world. We could have financed it twenty times over in Naples in a day, but + neither Moliterno nor I was willing to trust them. The thing is enormous, + you see—a really colossal fortune—and Italian law is full of + ins and outs, and the first man we talked to confidentially would have + given us his word to play straight, and, the instant we left him, would + have flown post-haste for Basilicata and grabbed for himself the two + thirds of the field not yet in our hands. Moliterno and I talked it over + many, many times; we thought of going to Rome for the money, to Paris, to + London, to New York; but I happened to remember the old house here that my + aunt had left me—I wanted to sell it, to add whatever it brought to + the money I’ve already put in—and then it struck me I might + raise the rest here as well as anywhere else.” + </p> + <p> + The other nodded. “I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you’ll think me rather sentimental,” Corliss + went on, with a laugh which unexpectedly betrayed a little shyness. + “I’ve never forgotten that I was born here—was a boy + here. In all my wanderings I’ve always really thought of this as + home.” + </p> + <p> + His voice trembled slightly and his face flushed; he smiled deprecatingly + as though in apology for these symptoms of emotion; and at that both + listeners felt (perhaps with surprise) the man’s strong attraction. + There was something very engaging about him: in the frankness of his look + and in the slight tremor in his voice; there was something appealing and + yet manly in the confession, by this thoroughgoing cosmopolite, of his + real feeling for the home-town. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I know how very few people, even among the `old citizens,’ + would have any recollection whatever of me,” he went on; “but + that doesn’t make any difference in my sentiment for the place and + its people. That street out yonder was named for my grandfather: there’s + a statue of my great uncle in the State House yard; all my own blood: + belonged here, and though I have been a wanderer and may not be remembered—naturally + am <i>not</i> remembered—yet the name is honoured here, and I—I——” + He faltered again, then concluded with quiet earnestness: “I thought + that if my good luck was destined to bring fortunes to others, it might as + well be to my own kind—that at least I’d offer them the chance + before I offered it to any one else.” He turned and looked Richard + in the face. “That’s why I’m here, Mr. Lindley.” + </p> + <p> + The other impulsively put out his hand. “I understand,” he + said heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” Corliss changed his tone for one less serious. + “You’ve listened very patiently and I hope you’ll be + rewarded for it. Certainly you will if you decide to come in with us. May + I leave the maps and descriptions with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed. I’ll look them over carefully and have another + talk with you about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven, <i>that’s</i> over!” exclaimed the + lounger in the hammock, who had not once removed his fascinated stare from + the expressive face of Valentine Corliss. “If you have now concluded + with dull care, allow me to put a vital question: Mr. Corliss, do you + sing?” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman addressed favoured him with a quizzical glance from between + half-closed lids, and probably checking an impulse to remark that he + happened to know that his questioner sometimes sang, replied merely, + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a pity.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” returned the other, inconsequently. “It just + struck me that you ought to sing the Toreador song.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Lindley, placing the notes and maps in his pocket, dropped them, + and, stooping, began to gather the scattered papers with a very red face. + Corliss, however, laughed good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s most flattering,” he said; “though there + are other things in `Carmen’ I prefer—probably because one + doesn’t hear them so eternally.” + </p> + <p> + Vilas pulled himself up to a sitting position and began to swing again. + “Observe our host, Mr. Corliss,” he commanded gayly. “He + is a kind old Dobbin, much beloved, but cares damn little to hear you or + me speak of music. He’d even rather discuss your oil business than + listen to us talk of women, whereas nothing except women ever really + interests <i>you</i>, my dear sir. He’s not our kind of man,” + he concluded, mournfully; “not at all our kind of man!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” Corliss suggested, “he’s going to be my + kind of man in the development of these oil-fields.” + </p> + <p> + “How ridic”—Mr. Vilas triumphed over the word after a + slight struggle—“ulous! I shall review that: ridiculous of you + to pretend to be interested in oil-fields. You are not that sort of person + whatever. Nothing could be clearer than that you would never waste the + time demanded by fields of oil. Groundlings call this `the mechanical age’—a + vulgar error. My dear sir, you and I know that it is the age of Woman! + Even poets have begun to see that she is alive. Formerly we did not speak + of her at all, but of late years she has become such a scandal that she is + getting talked about. Even our dramas, which used to be all blood, have + become all flesh. I wish I were dead—but will continue my harangue + because the thought is pellucid. Women selecting men to mate with are of + only two kinds, just as there are but two kinds of children in a toy-shop. + One child sets its fancy on one partic”—the orator paused, + then continued—“on one certain toy and will make a distressing + scene if she doesn’t get it: she will have that one; she will go + straight to it, clasp it and keep it; she won’t have any other. The + other kind of woman is to be understood if you will make the experiment of + taking the other kind of child to a toy-shop and telling her you will buy + her any toy in the place, but that you will buy her only one. If you do + this in the morning, she will still be in the shop when it is closing for + the night, because, though she runs to each toy in turn with excitement + and delight, she sees another over her shoulder, and the one she has not + touched is always her choice—until she has touched it! Some get + broken in the handling. For my part, my wires are working rather rustily, + but I must obey the Stage-Manager. For my requiem I wish somebody would + ask them to play Gounod’s masterpiece.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” asked Corliss, amused. + </p> + <p> + “`The Funeral March of a Marionette!’” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you mean that for a cheerful way of announcing that you + are a fatalist.” + </p> + <p> + “Fatalism? That is only a word,” declared Mr. Vilas gravely. + “If I am not a puppet then I am a god. Somehow, I do not seem to be + a god. If a god is a god, one thinks he would know it himself. I now yield + the floor. Thanking you cordially, I believe there is a lady walking + yonder who commands salutation.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet, bowing profoundly. Cora Madison was passing, + strolling rather briskly down the street, not in the direction of her + home. She waved her parasol with careless gayety to the trio under the + trees, and, going on, was lost to their sight. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” exclaimed Corliss, looking at his watch with a start + of surprise. “I have two letters to write for the evening mail. I + must be off.” + </p> + <p> + At this, Ray Vilas’s eyes—still fixed upon him, as they had + been throughout the visit—opened to their fullest capacity, in a + gaze of only partially alcoholic wildness. + </p> + <p> + Entirely aware of this singular glare, but not in the least disconcerted + by it, the recipient proffered his easy farewells. “I had no idea it + was so late. Good afternoon. Mr. Vilas, I have been delighted with your + diagnosis. Lindley, I’m at your disposal when you’ve looked + over my data. My very warm thanks for your patience, and—addio!” + </p> + <p> + Lindley looked after him as he strode quickly away across the green lawn, + turning, at the street, in the direction Cora had taken; and the troubled + Richard felt his heart sink with vague but miserable apprehension. There + was a gasp of desperation beside him, and the sound of Ray Vilas’s + lips parting and closing with little noises of pain. + </p> + <p> + “So he knows her,” said the boy, his thin body shaking. + “Look at him, damn him! See his deep chest, that conqueror’s + walk, the easy, confident, male pride of him: a true-born, natural rake—the + Toreador all over!” + </p> + <p> + His agitation passed suddenly; he broke into a loud laugh, and flung a + reckless hand to his companion’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You good old fool,” he cried. “<i>You’ll</i> + never play Don Jose!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Hedrick Madison, like too many other people, had never thought seriously + about the moon; nor ever had he encouraged it to become his familiar; and + he underwent his first experience of its incomparable betrayals one + brilliant night during the last week of that hot month. The preface to + this romantic evening was substantial and prosaic: four times during + dinner was he copiously replenished with hash, which occasioned so rich a + surfeit within him that, upon the conclusion of the meal, he found himself + in no condition to retort appropriately to a solicitous warning from Cora + to keep away from the cat. Indeed, it was half an hour later, and he was + sitting—to his own consciousness too heavily—upon the back + fence, when belated inspiration arrived. But there is no sound where there + is no ear to hear, and no repartee, alas! when the wretch who said the + first part has gone, so that Cora remained unscathed as from his alley + solitude Hedrick hurled in the teeth of the rising moon these bitter + words: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; <i>our</i> cat only eats <i>soft</i> meat!” + </p> + <p> + He renewed a morbid silence, and the moon, with its customary + deliberation, swung clear of a sweeping branch of the big elm in the front + yard and shone full upon him. Nothing warned the fated youth not to sit + there; no shadow of imminent catastrophe tinted that brightness: no angel + whisper came to him, bidding him begone—and to go in a hurry and as + far as possible. No; he sat upon the fence an inoffensive lad, and—except + for still feeling his hash somewhat, and a gradually dispersing rancour + concerning the cat—at peace. It is for such lulled mortals that the + ever-lurking Furies save their most hideous surprises. + </p> + <p> + Chin on palms, he looked idly at the moon, and the moon inscrutably + returned his stare. Plausible, bright, bland, it gave no sign that it was + at its awful work. For the bride of night is like a card-dealer whose + fingers move so swiftly through the pack the trickery goes unseen. + </p> + <p> + This moon upon which he was placidly gazing, because he had nothing else + to do, betokened nought to Hedrick: to him it was the moon of any other + night, the old moon; certainly no moon of his delight. Withal, it may + never be gazed upon so fixedly and so protractedly—no matter how + languidly—with entire impunity. That light breeds a bug in the + brain. Who can deny how the moon wrought this thing under the hair of + unconscious Hedrick, or doubt its responsibility for the thing that + happened? + </p> + <p> + “<i>Little boy</i>!” + </p> + <p> + It was a very soft, small voice, silky and queer; and at first Hedrick had + little suspicion that it could be addressing him: the most rigid + self-analysis could have revealed to him no possibility of his fitting so + ignominious a description. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, little boy!” + </p> + <p> + He looked over his shoulder and saw, standing in the alley behind him, a + girl of about his own age. She was daintily dressed and had beautiful hair + which was all shining in pale gold. + </p> + <p> + “Little boy!” + </p> + <p> + She was smiling up at him, and once more she used that wantonly inaccurate + vocative: + </p> + <p> + “Little boy!” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick grunted unencouragingly. “Who you callin’ `little boy’?” + </p> + <p> + For reply she began to climb the fence. It was high, but the young lady + was astonishingly agile, and not even to be deterred by several faint + wails from tearing and ripping fabrics—casualties which appeared to + be entirely beneath her notice. Arriving at the top rather dishevelled, + and with irregular pennons here and there flung to the breeze from her + attire, she seated herself cosily beside the dumbfounded Hedrick. + </p> + <p> + She turned her face to him and smiled—and there was something about + her smile which Hedrick did not like. It discomforted him; nothing more. + In sunlight he would have had the better chance to comprehend; but, + unhappily, this was moonshine. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, little boy!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t!” exclaimed the shocked and indignant Hedrick, + edging uneasily away from her. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s play,” she said cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Play what?” + </p> + <p> + “I like chickens. Did you know I like chickens?” + </p> + <p> + The rather singular lack of connection in her remarks struck him as a + misplaced effort at humour. + </p> + <p> + “You’re having lots of fun with me, aren’t you?” + he growled. + </p> + <p> + She instantly moved close to him and lifted her face to his. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, darling little boy!” she said. + </p> + <p> + There was something more than uncommonly queer about this stranger, an + unearthliness of which he was confusedly perceptive, but she was not + without a curious kind of prettiness, and her pale gold hair was + beautiful. The doomed lad saw the moon shining through it. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, darling little boy!” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + His head whirled; for the moment she seemed divine. + </p> + <p> + George Washington used profanity at the Battle of Monmouth. Hedrick kissed + her. + </p> + <p> + He instantly pushed her away with strong distaste. “There!” he + said angrily. “I hope that’ll satisfy you!” He belonged + to his sex. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me some more, darling little boy!” she cried, and flung + her arms about him. + </p> + <p> + With a smothered shout of dismay he tried to push her off, and they fell + from the fence together, into the yard, at the cost of further and almost + fatal injuries to the lady’s apparel. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick was first upon his feet. “Haven’t you got <i>any</i> + sense?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + She smiled unwaveringly, rose (without assistance) and repeated: “Kiss + me some more, darling little boy!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t! I wouldn’t for a thousand dollars!” + </p> + <p> + Apparently, she did not consider this discouraging. She began to advance + endearingly, while he retreated backward. “Kiss me some——” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t, I tell you!” Hedrick kept stepping away, + moving in a desperate circle. He resorted to a brutal formula: “You + make me sick!” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me some more, darling lit——” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t!” he bellowed. “And if you say that again + I’ll——” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me some more, darling little boy!” She flung herself at + him, and with a yell of terror he turned and ran at top-speed. + </p> + <p> + She pursued, laughing sweetly, and calling loudly as she ran, “Kiss + me some more, darling little boy! Kiss me some more, darling little boy!” + </p> + <p> + The stricken Hedrick knew not whither to direct his flight: he dared not + dash for the street with this imminent tattered incubus—she was + almost upon him—and he frantically made for the kitchen door, only + to swerve with a gasp of despair as his foot touched the step, for she was + at his heels, and he was sickeningly assured she would cheerfully follow + him through the house, shouting that damning refrain for all ears. A + strangling fear took him by the throat—if Cora should come to be a + spectator of this unspeakable flight, if Cora should hear that horrid plea + for love! Then farewell peace; indeed, farewell all joy in life forever! + </p> + <p> + Panting sobbingly, he ducked under the amorous vampire’s arm and + fled on. He zigzagged desperately to and fro across the broad, empty + backyard, a small hand ever and anon managing to clutch his shoulder, the + awful petition in his ears: + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me some more, darling little boy!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Hedrick</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Emerging from the kitchen door, Laura stood and gazed in wonder as the two + eerie figures sped by her, circled, ducked, dodged, flew madly on. This + commonplace purlieu was become the scene of a witch-chase; the moonlight + fell upon the ghastly flitting face of the pursued, uplifted in agony, + white, wet, with fay eyes; also it illumined the unreal elf following + close, a breeze-blown fantasy in rags. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me some more, darling little boy!” + </p> + <p> + Laura uttered a sharp exclamation. “Stand still, Hedrick!” she + called. “You must!” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick made a piteous effort to increase his speed. + </p> + <p> + “It’s Lolita Martin,” called Laura. “She must have + her way or nothing can be done with her. Stand <i>still</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick had never heard of Lolita Martin, but the added information + concerning her was not ineffective: it operated as a spur; and Laura + joined the hunt. + </p> + <p> + “Stand still!” she cried to the wretched quarry. “She’s + run away. She must be taken home. Stop, Hedrick! You <i>must</i> stop!” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick had no intention of stopping, but Laura was a runner, and, as he + dodged the other, caught and held him fast. The next instant, Lolita, + laughing happily, flung her arms round his neck from behind. + </p> + <p> + “Lemme go!” shuddered Hedrick. “Lemme go!” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me again, darl——” + </p> + <p> + “I—woof!” He became inarticulate. + </p> + <p> + “She isn’t quite right,” his sister whispered hurriedly + in his ear. “She has spells when she’s weak mentally. You must + be kind to her. She only wants you to——” + </p> + <p> + “`<i>Only</i>’!” he echoed hoarsely. “I won’t + ki——” He was unable to finish the word. + </p> + <p> + “We must get her home,” said Laura anxiously. “Will you + come with me, Lolita, dear?” + </p> + <p> + Apparently Lolita had no consciousness whatever of Laura’s presence. + Instead of replying, she tightened her grasp upon Hedrick and warmly + reiterated her request. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, you parrot!” hissed the goaded boy. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she’ll go if you let her walk with her arms round + your neck,” suggested Laura. + </p> + <p> + “If I <i>what</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s try it. We’ve got to get her home; her mother + must be frantic about her. Come, let’s see if she’ll go with + us that way.” + </p> + <p> + With convincing earnestness, Hedrick refused to make the experiment until + Laura suggested that he remain with Lolita while she summoned assistance; + then, as no alternative appeared, his spirit broke utterly, and he + consented to the trial, stipulating with a last burst of vehemence that + the progress of the unthinkable pageant should be through the alley. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Lolita,” said Laura coaxingly. “We’re going + for a nice walk.” At the adjective, Hedrick’s burdened + shoulders were racked with a brief spasm, which recurred as his sister + added: “Your darling little boy will let you keep hold of him.” + </p> + <p> + Lolita seemed content. Laughing gayly, she offered no opposition, but, + maintaining her embrace with both arms and walking somewhat sidewise, went + willingly enough; and the three slowly crossed the yard, passed through + the empty stable and out into the alley. When they reached the + cross-street at the alley’s upper end, Hedrick balked flatly. + </p> + <p> + Laura expostulated, then entreated. Hedrick refused with sincere loathing + to be seen upon the street occupying his present position in the group. + Laura assured him that there was no one to see; he replied that the moon + was bright and the evening early; he would die, and readily, but he would + not set foot in the street. Unfortunately, he had selected an unfavourable + spot for argument: they were already within a yard or two of the street; + and a strange boy, passing, stopped and observed, and whistled + discourteously. + </p> + <p> + “Ain’t he the spooner!” remarked this unknown with + hideous admiration. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll thank you,” returned Hedrick haughtily, “to + go on about your own business.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me some more, darling little boy!” said Lolita. + </p> + <p> + The strange boy squawked, wailed, screamed with laughter, howled the + loving petition in a dozen keys of mockery, while Hedrick writhed and + Lolita clung. Enriched by a new and great experience, the torturer trotted + on, leaving viperish cachinnations in his wake. + </p> + <p> + But the martyrdom was at an end. A woman, hurrying past, bareheaded, was + greeted by a cry of delight from Lolita, who released Hedrick and ran to + her with outstretched arms. + </p> + <p> + “We were bringing her home, Mrs. Martin,” said Laura, + reassuringly. “She’s all right; nothing’s the matter + except that her dress got torn. We found her playing in our yard.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you a thousand times, Miss Madison,” cried Lolita’s + mother, and flutteringly plunged into a description of her anxiety, her + search for Lolita, and concluded with renewed expressions of gratitude for + the child’s safe return, an outpouring of thankfulness and joy + wholly incomprehensible to Hedrick. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Laura cheerfully. “Come, Hedrick. We’ll + go home by the street, I think.” She touched his shoulder, and he + went with her in stunned obedience. He was not able to face the incredible + thing that had happened to him: he walked in a trance of horror. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little girl!” said Laura gently, with what seemed to her + brother an indefensibly misplaced compassion. “Usually they have her + live in an institution for people afflicted as she is, but they brought + her home for a visit last week, I believe. Of course you didn’t + understand, but I think you should have been more thoughtful. Really, you + shouldn’t have flirted with her.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “`<i>Flirted</i>’!” His voice was beginning to show + symptoms of changing, this year; it rose to a falsetto wail, flickered and + went out. + </p> + <p> + With the departure of Lolita in safety, what had seemed bizarre and + piteous became obscured, and another aspect of the adventure was presented + to Laura. The sufferings of the arrogant are not wholly depressing to the + spectator; and of arrogance Hedrick had ever been a master. She began to + shake; a convulsion took her, and suddenly she sat upon the curbstone + without dignity, and laughed as he had never seen her. + </p> + <p> + A horrid distrust of her rose within him: he began to realize in what + plight he stood, what terrors o’erhung. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said miserably, “are you—you aren’t—you + don’t have to go and—and <i>talk</i> about this, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Hedrick,” she responded, rising and controlling herself + somewhat. “Not so long as you’re good.” + </p> + <p> + This was no reassuring answer. + </p> + <p> + “And politer to Cora,” she added. + </p> + <p> + Seemingly he heard the lash of a slave-whip crack in the air. The future + grew dark. + </p> + <p> + “I know you’ll try”—she said; and the unhappy lad + felt that her assurance was justified; but she had not concluded the + sentence—“darling little boy,” she capped it, choking + slightly. + </p> + <p> + “No other little girl ever fell in love with you, did there, + Hedrick?” she asked, and, receiving an incoherent but furious reply, + she was again overcome, so that she must lean against the fence to + recover. “It seems—so—so <i>curious</i>,” she + explained, gasping, “that the first one—the—the only one—should + be an—a—an——” She was unable to continue. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick’s distrust became painfully increased: he began to feel that + he disliked Laura. + </p> + <p> + She was still wiping her eyes and subject to recurrent outbursts when they + reached their own abode; and as he bitterly flung himself into a chair + upon the vacant front porch, he heard her stifling an attack as she + mounted the stairs to her own room. He swung the chair about, with its + back to the street, and sat facing the wall. He saw nothing. There are + profundities in the abyss which reveal no glimpse of the sky. + </p> + <p> + Presently he heard his father coughing near by; and the sound was hateful, + because it seemed secure and unshamed. It was a cough of moral + superiority; and just then the son would have liked to believe that his + parent’s boyhood had been one of degradation as complete as his own; + but no one with this comfortable cough could ever have plumbed such + depths: his imagination refused the picture he was bitterly certain that + Mr. Madison had never kissed an idiot. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick had a dread that his father might speak to him; he was in no + condition for light conversation. But Mr. Madison was unaware of his son’s + near presence, and continued upon his purposeless way. He was smoking his + one nightly cigar and enjoying the moonlight. He drifted out toward the + sidewalk and was accosted by a passing acquaintance, a comfortable burgess + of sixty, leading a child of six or seven, by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Out taking the air, are you, Mr. Madison?” said the + pedestrian, pausing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; just trying to cool off,” returned the other. “How + are you, Pryor, anyway? I haven’t seen you for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Not since last summer,” said Pryor. “I only get here + once or twice a year, to see my married daughter. I always try to spend + August with her if I can. She’s still living in that little house, + over on the next street, I bought for her through your real-estate + company. I suppose you’re still in the same business?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Pretty slack, these days.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so, I suppose so,” responded Mr. Pryor, nodding. + “Summer, I suppose it usually is. Well, I don’t know when I’ll + be going out on the road again myself. Business is pretty slack all over + the country this year.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see—I’ve forgotten,” said Madison + ruminatively. “You travel, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “For a New York house,” affirmed Mr. Pryor. He did not, + however, mention his “line.” “Yes-sir,” he added, + merely as a decoration, and then said briskly: “I see you have a + fine family, Mr. Madison; yes-sir, a fine family; I’ve passed here + several times lately and I’ve noticed ’em: fine family. Let’s + see, you’ve got four, haven’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Three,” said Madison. “Two girls and a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, that’s mighty nice,” observed Mr. Pryor; + “<i>mighty</i> nice! I only have my one daughter, and of course me + living in New York when I’m at home, and her here, why, I don’t + get to see much of her. You got both your daughters living with you, haven’t + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, right here at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see: neither of ’em’s married, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “No; not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Seems to me now,” said Pryor, taking off his glasses and + wiping them, “seems to me I did hear somebody say one of ’em + was going to be married engaged, maybe.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Madison. “Not that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose you’d be the first to know! Yes-sir.” + And both men laughed their appreciation of this folly. “They’re + mighty good-looking girls, <i>that’s</i> certain,” continued + Mr. Pryor. “And one of ’em’s as fine a dresser as you’ll + meet this side the Rue de la Paix.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean in Paris?” asked Madison, slightly surprised at this + allusion. “You’ve been over there, Pryor?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sometimes,” was the response. “My business takes me + over, now and then. I <i>think</i> it’s one of your daughters I’ve + noticed dresses so well. Isn’t one of ’em a mighty pretty girl + about twenty-one or two, with a fine head of hair sort of lightish brown, + beautiful figure, and carries a white parasol with a green lining + sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s Cora, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty name, too,” said Pryor approvingly. “Yes-sir. I + saw her going into a florist’s, downtown, the other day, with a + fine-looking young fellow—I can’t think of his name. Let’s + see: my daughter was with me, and she’d heard his name—said + his family used to be big people in this town and——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Madison, “young Corliss.” + </p> + <p> + “Corliss!” exclaimed Mr. Pryor, with satisfaction. “That’s + it, Corliss. Well, sir,” he chuckled, “from the way he was + looking at your Miss Cora it struck me he seemed kind of anxious for her + name to be Corliss, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, hardly I expect,” said the other. “They just + barely know each other: he’s only been here a few weeks; they haven’t + had time to get much acquainted, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose not,” agreed Mr. Pryor, with perfect readiness. + “I suppose not. I’ll bet <i>he</i> tries all he can to get + acquainted though; he looked pretty smart to me. Doesn’t he come + about as often as the law allows?” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Madison indifferently. + “He doesn’t know many people about here any more, and it’s + lonesome for him at the hotel. But I guess he comes to see the whole + family; I left him in the library a little while ago, talking to my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the way! Get around the old folks first!” Mr. + Pryor chuckled cordially; then in a mildly inquisitive tone he said: + “Seems to be a fine, square young fellow, I expect?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty name, `Cora’,” said Pryor. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this little girl’s name?” Mr. Madison + indicated the child, who had stood with heroic patience throughout the + incomprehensible dialogue. + </p> + <p> + “Lottie, for her mother. She’s a good little girl.” + </p> + <p> + “She is <i>so</i>! I’ve got a young son she ought to know,” + remarked Mr. Madison serenely, with an elderly father’s total + unconsciousness of the bridgeless gap between seven and thirteen. “He’d + like to play with her. I’ll call him.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect we better be getting on,” said Pryor. “It’s + near Lottie’s bedtime; we just came out for our evening walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he can come and shake hands with her anyway,” urged + Hedrick’s father. “Then they’ll know each other, and + they can play some other time.” He turned toward the house and + called loudly: + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick!” + </p> + <p> + There was no response. Behind the back of his chair Hedrick could not be + seen. He was still sitting immovable, his eyes torpidly fixed upon the + wall. + </p> + <p> + “Hed-<i>rick</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Silence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>Hed</i>-rick!” shouted his father. “Come out + here! I want you to meet a little girl! Come and see a nice little girl!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pryor’s grandchild was denied the pleasure. At the ghastly words + “<i>little girl</i>,” Hedrick dropped from his chair flat upon + the floor, crawled to the end of the porch, wriggled through the railing, + and immersed himself in deep shadow against the side of the house. + </p> + <p> + Here he removed his shoes, noiselessly mounted to the sill of one of the + library windows, then reconnoitred through a slit in the blinds before + entering. + </p> + <p> + The gas burned low in the “drop-light”—almost too dimly + to reveal the two people upon a sofa across the room. It was a faint + murmur from one of them that caused Hedrick to pause and peer more + sharply. They were Cora and Corliss; he was bending close to her; her face + was lifting to his. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, kiss me! Kiss me!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick dropped from the sill, climbed through a window of the kitchen, + hurried up the back-stairs, and reached his own apartment in time to be + violently ill in seclusion. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE + </h2> + <p> + Villages are scattered plentifully over the unstable buttresses of + Vesuvius, and the inhabitants sleep o’ nights: Why not? Quite + unaware that he was much of their condition, Mr. Madison bade his + incidental gossip and the tiny Lottie good-night, and sought his early + bed. He maintained in good faith that Saturday night was “a great + night to sleep,” because of the later hour for rising; probably + having also some factitious conviction that there prevailed a hush + preparative of the Sabbath. As a matter of fact, in summer, the other + members of his family always looked uncommonly haggard at the Sunday + breakfast-table. Accepting without question his preposterous legend of + additional matutinal slumber, they postponed retiring to a late hour, and + were awakened—simultaneously with thousands of fellow-sufferers—at + about half-after five on Sunday morning, by a journalistic uprising. Over + the town, in these early hours, rampaged the small vendors of the manifold + sheets: local papers and papers from greater cities, hawker succeeding + hawker with yell upon yell and brain-piercing shrillings in unbearable + cadences. No good burgher ever complained: the people bore it, as in + winter they bore the smoke that injured their health, ruined their linen, + spoiled their complexions, forbade all hope of beauty and comfort in their + city, and destroyed the sweetness of their homes and of their wives. It is + an incredibly patient citizenry and exalts its persecutors. + </p> + <p> + Of the Madison family, Cora probably suffered most; and this was the time + when it was no advantage to have the front bedroom. She had not slept + until close upon dawn, and the hawkers woke her irreparably; she could but + rage upon her hot pillow. By and by, there came a token that another + anguish kept company with hers. She had left her door open for a better + circulation of the warm and languid air, and from Hedrick’s room + issued an “<i>oof</i>!” of agonized disgust. Cora little + suspected that the youth reeked not of newsboys: Hedrick’s miseries + were introspective. + </p> + <p> + The cries from the street were interminable; each howler in turn heard + faintly in the distance, then in crescendo until he had passed and another + succeeded him, and all the while Cora lay tossing and whispering between + clenched teeth. Having ample reason, that morning, to prefer sleep to + thinking, sleep was impossible. But she fought for it: she did not easily + surrender what she wanted; and she struggled on, with closed eyes, long + after she had heard the others go down to breakfast. + </p> + <p> + About a hundred yards from her windows, to the rear, were the open windows + of a church which fronted the next street, and stood dos-a-dos to the + dwelling of the Madisons. The Sunday-school hour had been advanced for the + hot weather, and, partly on this account, and partly because of the summer + absence of many families, the attendants were few. But the young voices + were conducted, rather than accompanied, in pious melody by a cornetist + who worthily thought to amend, in his single person, what lack of volume + this paucity occasioned. He was a slender young man in hot black clothes; + he wore the unfacaded collar fatally and unanimously adopted by all adam’s-apple + men of morals; he was washed, fair, flat-skulled, clean-minded, and + industrious; and the only noise of any kind he ever made in the world was + on Sunday. + </p> + <p> + “Prashus joowuls, sweet joowuls, <i>thee</i> jams off iz crowowun,” + sang the little voices feebly. They were almost unheard; but the young man + helped them out: figuratively, he put them out. And the cornet was heard: + it was heard for blocks and blocks; it was heard over all that part of the + town—in the vicinity of the church it was the only thing that could + be heard. In his daily walk this cornetist had no enemies: he was + kind-hearted; he would not have shot a mad dog; he gladly nursed the sick. + He sat upon the platform before the children; he swelled, perspired and + blew, and felt that it was a good blowing. If other thoughts vapoured upon + the borders of his mind, they were of the dinner he would eat, soon after + noon, at the house of one of the frilled, white-muslin teachers. He was + serene. His eyes were not blasted; his heart was not instantly withered; + his thin, bluish hair did not fall from his head; his limbs were not + detached from his torso—yet these misfortunes had been desired for + him, with comprehension and sincerity, at the first flat blat of his + brassy horn. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to imagine the state of mind of this young cornetist, + could he have known that he had caused the prettiest girl in town to jump + violently out of bed with what petitions upon her lips regarding his + present whereabouts and future detention! It happened that during the + course of his Sunday walk on Corliss Street, that very afternoon, he saw + her—was hard-smitten by her beauty, and for weeks thereafter laid + unsuccessful plans to “meet” her. Her image was imprinted: he + talked about her to his boarding-house friends and office acquaintances, + his favourite description being, “the sweetest-looking lady I ever + laid eyes on.” + </p> + <p> + Cora, descending to the breakfast-table rather white herself, was not + unpleasantly shocked by the haggard aspect of Hedrick, who, with Laura and + Mrs. Madison, still lingered. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Cora,” he said politely, and while she stared, + in suspicious surprise, he passed her a plate of toast with ostentatious + courtesy; but before she could take one of the slices, “Wait,” + he said; “it’s very nice toast, but I’m afraid it isn’t + hot. I’ll take it to the kitchen and have it warmed for you.” + And he took the plate and went out, walking softly. + </p> + <p> + Cora turned to her mother, appalled. “He’ll be sick!” + she said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Madison shook her head and smiled sadly. + </p> + <p> + “He helped to wait on all of us: he must have been doing something + awful.” + </p> + <p> + “More likely he wants permission to do something awful.” + </p> + <p> + Laura looked out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “There, Cora,” said Hedrick kindly, when he brought the toast; + “you’ll find that nice and hot.” + </p> + <p> + She regarded him steadfastly, but with modesty he avoided her eye. “You + wouldn’t make such a radical change in your nature, Hedrick,” + she said, with a puzzled frown, “just to get out of going to church, + would you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to get out of going to church,” he said. + He gulped slightly. “I like church.” + </p> + <p> + And church-time found him marching decorously beside his father, the three + ladies forming a rear rank; a small company in the very thin procession of + fanning women and mopping men whose destination was the gray stone church + at the foot of Corliss Street. The locusts railed overhead: Hedrick looked + neither to the right nor to the left. + </p> + <p> + They passed a club, of which a lower window was vacated simultaneously + with their coming into view; and a small but ornate figure in pale gray + crash hurried down the steps and attached itself to the second row of + Madisons. “Good-morning,” said Mr. Wade Trumble. “Thought + I’d take a look-in at church this morning myself.” + </p> + <p> + Care of this encumbrance was usually expected of Laura and Mrs. Madison, + but to their surprise Cora offered a sprightly rejoinder and presently + dropped behind them with Mr. Trumble. Mr. Trumble was also surprised and, + as naively, pleased. + </p> + <p> + “What’s happened?” he asked with cheerful frankness. + “You haven’t given me a chance to talk to you for a long + while.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I?” she smiled enigmatically. “I don’t + think you’ve tried very hard.” + </p> + <p> + This was too careless; it did not quite serve, even for Trumble. “What’s + up?” he asked, not without shrewdness. “Is Richard Lindley out + of town?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Perhaps it’s this new chap, Corliss? Has he left?” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense! What have they got to do with my being nice to you?” + She gave him a dangerous smile, and it wrought upon him visibly. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you ever be nice to me unless you mean it,” he + said feebly. + </p> + <p> + Cora looked grave and sweet; she seemed mysteriously moved. “I never + do anything I don’t mean,” she said in a low voice which + thrilled the little man. This was machine-work, easy and accurate. + </p> + <p> + “Cora——” he began, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she exclaimed, shifting on the instant to a lively + brusqueness. “That’s enough for you just <i>now</i>. We’re + on our way to church!” + </p> + <p> + Trumble felt almost that she had accepted him. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got your penny for the contribution box?” she + smiled. “I suppose you really give a great deal to the church. I + hear you’re richer and richer.” + </p> + <p> + “I do pretty well,” he returned, coolly. “You can know + just how well, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Not on Sunday,” she laughed; then went on, admiringly, + “I hear you’re very dashing in your speculations.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you’ve heard wrong, because I don’t speculate,” + he returned. “I’m not a gambler—except on certainties. I + guess I disappointed a friend of yours the other day because I wouldn’t + back him on a thousand-to-one shot.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was that?” she asked, with an expression entirely veiled. + </p> + <p> + “Corliss. He came to see me; wanted me to put real money into an oil + scheme. Too thin!” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it `too thin’?” she asked carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Too far away, for one thing—somewhere in Italy. Anybody who + put up his cash would have to do it on Corliss’s bare word that he’s + struck oil.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” She turned her face to him, and a faint perturbation + was manifest in her tone. “Isn’t Mr. Corliss’s `bare + word’ supposed to be perfectly good?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I suppose so, but I don’t know. He isn’t known + here: nobody really knows anything about him except that he was born here. + Besides, I wouldn’t make an investment on my own father’s bare + word, if he happened to be alive.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not!” Cora spoke impulsively, a sudden anger getting + the better of her, but she controlled it immediately. “Of course I + don’t mean that,” she laughed, sweetly. “But <i>I</i> + happen to think Mr. Corliss’s scheme a very handsome one, and I want + my friends to make their fortunes, of course. Richard Lindley and papa are + going into it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll bet they don’t,” said Trumble promptly. + “Lindley told me he’d looked it over and couldn’t see + his way to.” + </p> + <p> + “He did?” Cora stiffened perceptibly and bit her lip. + </p> + <p> + Trumble began to laugh. “This is funny: you trying to talk business! + So Corliss has been telling you about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has; and I understand it perfectly. I think there’s + an enormous fortune in it, and you’d better not laugh at me: a woman’s + instinct about such things is better than a man’s experience + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll find neither Lindley nor your father are going to + think so,” he returned skeptically. + </p> + <p> + She gave him a deep, sweet look. “But I mustn’t be + disappointed in you,” she said, with the suggestion of a tremor in + her voice, “whatever <i>they</i> do! You’ll take my advice, + won’t you—Wade?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take your advice in anything but business.” He + shook his head ominously. + </p> + <p> + “And wouldn’t you take my advice in business,”—she + asked very slowly and significantly—“under <i>any</i> + circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” he said huskily, “if you were my wife?” + </p> + <p> + She looked away, and slightly inclined her head. “No,” he + answered doggedly, “I wouldn’t. You know mighty well that’s + what I want you to be, and I’d give my soul for the tip of your + shoe, but business is an entirely different matter, and I——” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Wade</i>!” she said, with wonderful and thrilling + sweetness. They had reached the church; Hedrick and his father had + entered; Mrs. Madison and Laura were waiting on the steps. Cora and + Trumble came to a stop some yards away. “Wade, I—I <i>want</i> + you to go into this.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t do it,” he said stubbornly. “If you ever + make up your mind to marry me, I’ll spend all the money you like on + <i>you</i>, but you’ll have to keep to the woman’s side of the + house.” + </p> + <p> + “You make it pretty hard for me to be nice to you,” she + returned, and the tremor now more evident in her voice was perfectly + genuine. “You positively refuse to do this—for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes I do. I wouldn’t buy sight-unseen to please God ‘lmighty, + Cora Madison.” He looked at her shrewdly, struck by a sudden + thought. “Did Corliss ask you to try and get me in?” + </p> + <p> + “He did not,” she responded, icily. “Your refusal is + final?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” He struck the pavement a smart rap with his + walking-stick. “By George, I believe he <i>did</i> ask you! That + spoils church for me this morning; I’ll not go in. When you quit + playing games, let me know. You needn’t try to work me any more, + because I won’t stand for it, but if you ever get tired of playing, + come and tell me so.” He uttered a bark of rueful laughter. “Ha! + I must say that gentleman has an interesting way of combining business + with pleasure!” + </p> + <p> + Under favourable circumstances the blow Cora dealt him might have been + physically more violent. “Good-morning,” she laughed, gayly. + “I’m not bothering much about Mr. Corliss’s oil in + Italy. I had a bet with Laura I could keep you from saying `I beg to + differ,’ or talking about the weather for five minutes. She’ll + have to pay me!” + </p> + <p> + Then, still laughing, she lowered her parasol, and with superb impudence, + brushed it smartly across his face; turned on her heel, and, red with + fury, joined her mother and sister, and went into the church. + </p> + <p> + The service failed to occupy her attention: she had much in her thoughts + to distract her. Nevertheless, she bestowed some wonderment upon the + devotion with which her brother observed each ceremonial rite. He joined + in prayer with real fervour; he sang earnestly and loudly; a great appeal + sounded in his changing voice; and during the sermon he sat with his eyes + upon the minister in a stricken fixity. All this was so remarkable that + Cora could not choose but ponder upon it, and, observing Hedrick + furtively, she caught, if not a clue itself, at least a glimpse of one. + She saw Laura’s clear profile becoming subtly agitated; then noticed + a shimmer of Laura’s dark eye as it wandered to Hedrick and so + swiftly away it seemed not to dare to remain. Cora was quick: she + perceived that Laura was repressing a constant desire to laugh and that + she feared to look at Hedrick lest it overwhelm her. So Laura knew what + had wrought the miracle. Cora made up her mind to explore this secret + passage. + </p> + <p> + When the service was over and the people were placidly buzzing their way + up the aisles, Cora felt herself drawn to look across the church, and + following the telepathic impulse, turned her head to encounter the gaze of + Ray Vilas. He was ascending the opposite aisle, walking beside Richard + Lindley. He looked less pale than usual, though his thinness was so + extreme it was like emaciation; but his eyes were clear and quiet, and the + look he gave her was strangely gentle. Cora frowned and turned away her + head with an air of annoyance. They came near each other in the + convergence at the doors; but he made no effort to address her, and, + moving away through the crowd as quickly as possible, disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Valentine Corliss was disclosed in the vestibule. He reached her an + instant in advance of Mr. Lindley, who had suffered himself to be impeded; + and Cora quickly handed the former her parasol, lightly taking his arm. + Thus the slow Richard found himself walking beside Laura in a scattered + group, its detached portion consisting of his near-betrothed and Corliss; + for although the dexterous pair were first to leave the church, they + contrived to be passed almost at once, and, assuming the position of + trailers, lagged far behind on the homeward way. + </p> + <p> + Laura and Richard walked in the unmitigated glare of the sun; he had taken + her black umbrella and conscientiously held it aloft, but over nobody. + They walked in silence: they were quiet people, both of them; and Richard, + not “talkative” under any circumstances, never had anything + whatever to say to Laura Madison. He had known her for many years, ever + since her childhood; seldom indeed formulating or expressing a definite + thought about her, though sometimes it was vaguely of his consciousness + that she played the piano nicely, and even then her music had taken its + place as but a colour of Cora’s background. For to him, as to every + one else (including Laura), Laura was in nothing her sister’s + competitor. She was a neutral-tinted figure, taken-for-granted, obscured, + and so near being nobody at all, that, as Richard Lindley walked beside + her this morning, he glanced back at the lagging couple and uttered a long + and almost sonorous sigh, which he would have been ashamed for anybody to + hear; and then actually proceeded on his way without the slightest + realization that anybody had heard it. + </p> + <p> + She understood. And she did not disturb the trance; she did nothing to + make him observe that she was there. She walked on with head, shoulders, + and back scorching in the fierce sun, and allowed him to continue shading + the pavement before them with her umbrella. When they reached the house + she gently took the umbrella from him and thanked him; and he mechanically + raised his hat. + </p> + <p> + They had walked more than a mile together; he had not spoken a word, and + he did not even know it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN + </h2> + <p> + Dinner on Sunday, the most elaborate feast of the week for the Madisons, + was always set for one o’clock in the afternoon, and sometimes began + before two, but not to-day: the escorts of both daughters remained, and a + change of costume by Cora occasioned a long postponement. Justice demands + the admission that her reappearance in a glamour of lilac was reward for + the delay; nothing more ravishing was ever seen, she was warrantably + informed by the quicker of the two guests, in a moment’s whispered + tete-a-tete across the banisters as she descended. Another wait followed + while she prettily arranged upon the table some dozens of asters from a + small garden-bed, tilled, planted, and tended by Laura. Meanwhile, Mrs. + Madison constantly turned the other cheek to the cook. Laura assisted in + the pacification; Hedrick froze the ice-cream to an impenetrable solidity; + and the nominal head of the family sat upon the front porch with the two + young men, and wiped his wrists and rambled politically till they were + summoned to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Cora did the talking for the table. She was in high spirits; no trace + remained of a haggard night: there was a bloom upon her—she was + radiant. Her gayety may have had some inspiration in her daring, for round + her throat she wore a miraculously slender chain of gold and enamel, with + a pendant of minute pale sapphires scrolled about a rather large and very + white diamond. Laura started when she saw it, and involuntarily threw a + glance almost of terror at Richard Lindley. But that melancholy and + absent-minded gentleman observed neither the glance nor the jewel. He saw + Cora’s eyes, when they were vouchsafed to his vision, and when they + were not he apparently saw nothing at all. + </p> + <p> + With the general exodus from the table, Cora asked Laura to come to the + piano and play, a request which brought a snort from Hedrick, who was + taken off his guard. Catching Laura’s eye, he applied a handkerchief + with renewed presence of mind, affecting to have sneezed, and stared + searchingly over it at Corliss. He perceived that the man remained + unmoved, evidently already informed that it was Laura who was the + musician. Cora must be going it pretty fast this time: such was the form + of her brother’s deduction. + </p> + <p> + When Laura opened the piano, Richard had taken a seat beside Cora, and + Corliss stood leaning in the doorway. The player lost herself in a + wandering medley, echoes from “Boheme” and “Pagliacci”; + then drifted into improvisation and played her heart into it magnificently—a + heart released to happiness. The still air of the room filled with + wonderful, golden sound: a song like the song of a mother flying from + earth to a child in the stars, a torrential tenderness, unpent and + glorying in freedom. The flooding, triumphant chords rose, crashed—stopped + with a shattering abruptness. Laura’s hands fell to her sides, then + were raised to her glowing face and concealed it for a moment. She + shivered; a quick, deep sigh heaved her breast; and she came back to + herself like a prisoner leaving a window at the warden’s voice. + </p> + <p> + She turned. Cora and Corliss had left the room. Richard was sitting beside + a vacant chair, staring helplessly at the open door. + </p> + <p> + If he had been vaguely conscious of Laura’s playing, which is + possible, certainly he was unaware that it had ceased. + </p> + <p> + “The others have gone out to the porch,” she said composedly, + and rose. “Shan’t we join them?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” he returned, blankly. “I beg your pardon——” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go out on the porch with the others.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I——” He got to his feet confusedly. “I + was thinking—— I believe I’d best be going home.” + </p> + <p> + “Not `best,’ I think,” she said. “Not even better!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see,” he said, his perplexity only increased. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Corliss would,” she retorted quickly. “Come on: we’ll + go and sit with them.” And she compelled his obedience by preceding + him with such a confident assumption that he would follow that he did. + </p> + <p> + The fugitive pair were not upon the porch, however; they were discovered + in the shade of a tree behind the house, seated upon a rug, and occupied + in a conversation which would not have disturbed a sick-room. The pursuers + came upon them, boldly sat beside them; and Laura began to talk with + unwonted fluency to Corliss, but within five minutes found herself alone + with Richard Lindley upon the rug. Cora had promised to show Mr. Corliss + an “old print” in the library—so Cora said. + </p> + <p> + Lindley gave the remaining lady a desolate and faintly reproachful look. + He was kind, but he was a man; and Laura saw that this last abandonment + was being attributed in part to her. + </p> + <p> + She reddened, and, being not an angel, observed with crispness: “Certainly. + You’re quite right: it’s my fault!” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” he asked vacantly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him rather fixedly; his own gaze had returned to the angle + of the house beyond which the other couple had just disappeared. “I + said,” she answered, slowly, “I thought it wouldn’t rain + this, afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + His wistful eyes absently swept the serene sky which had been cloudless + for several days. “No, I suppose not,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Richard,” she said with a little sharpness, “will you + please listen to me for a moment?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—what?” He was like a diver coming up out of deep + water. “What did you say?” He laughed apologetically. “Wasn’t + I listening? I beg your pardon. What is it, Laura?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you let Mr. Corliss take Cora away from you like that?” + she asked gravely. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t,” the young man returned with a rueful shake + of the head. “Don’t you see? It’s Cora that goes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you let her, then?” + </p> + <p> + He sighed. “I don’t seem to be able to keep up with Cora, + especially when she’s punishing me. I couldn’t do something + she asked me to, last night——” + </p> + <p> + “Invest with Mr. Corliss?” asked Laura quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It seemed to trouble her that I couldn’t. She’s + convinced it’s a good thing: she thinks it would make a great + fortune for us——” + </p> + <p> + “`Us’?” repeated Laura gently. “You mean for you + and her? When you’re——” + </p> + <p> + “When we’re married. Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “that’s + the way she stated it. She wanted me to put in all I have——” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t do it!” said Laura decidedly. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at her with sharp inquiry. “Do you mean you would + distrust Mr. Corliss?” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn’t thinking of that: I don’t know whether I’d + trust him or not—I think I wouldn’t; there’s something + veiled about him, and I don’t believe he is an easy man to know. + What I meant was that I don’t believe it would really be a good + thing for you with Cora.” + </p> + <p> + “It would please her, of course—thinking I deferred so much to + her judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t do it!” she said again, impulsively. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see how I can,” he returned sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “It’s my work for all the years since I got out of college, + and if I lost it I’d have to begin all over again. It would mean + postponing everything. Cora isn’t a girl you can ask to share a + little salary, and if it were a question of years, perhaps— perhaps + Cora might not feel she could wait for me, you see.” + </p> + <p> + He made this explanation with plaintive and boyish sincerity, + hesitatingly, and as if pleading a cause. And Laura, after a long look at + him, turned away, and in her eyes were actual tears of compassion for the + incredible simpleton. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” she said. “Perhaps she might not.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he went on, “she’s fond of having + nice things, and she thinks this is a great chance for us to be + millionaires; and then, too, I think she may feel that it would please Mr. + Corliss and help to save him from disappointment. She seems to have taken + a great fancy to him.” + </p> + <p> + Laura glanced at him, but did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “He <i>is</i> attractive,” continued Richard feebly. “I + think he has a great deal of what people call `magnetism’: he’s + the kind of man who somehow makes you want to do what he wants you to. He + seems a manly, straightforward sort, too—so far as one can tell—and + when he came to me with his scheme I was strongly inclined to go into it. + But it is too big a gamble, and I can’t, though I was sorry to + disappoint him myself. He was perfectly cheerful about it and so pleasant + it made me feel small. I don’t wonder at all that Cora likes him so + much. Besides, he seems to understand her.” + </p> + <p> + Laura looked very grave. “I think he does,” she said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And then he’s `different,’” said Richard. “He’s + more a `man of the world’ than most of us here: she never saw + anything just like him before, and she’s seen <i>us</i> all her + life. She likes change, of course. That’s natural,” he said + gently. “Poor Vilas says she wants a man to be different every day, + and if he isn’t, then she wants a different man every day.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve rather taken Ray Vilas under your wing, haven’t + you?” asked Laura. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” he answered deprecatingly. “I only try to keep + him with me so he’ll stay away from downtown as much as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he talk much of Cora?” + </p> + <p> + “All the time. There’s no stopping him. I suppose he can’t + help it, because he thinks of nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t that rather—rather queer for you?” + </p> + <p> + “`Queer’?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not!” She laughed impatiently. “And + probably you don’t think it’s `queer’ of you to sit here + helplessly, and let another man take your place——” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t `let’ him, Laura,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “No, he just does it!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he smiled, “you must admit my efforts to + supplant him haven’t——” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t take any effort now,” she said, rising + quickly. Valentine Corliss came into their view upon the sidewalk in + front, taking his departure. Seeing that they observed him, he lifted his + hat to Laura and nodded a cordial good-day to Lindley. Then he went on. + </p> + <p> + Just before he reached the corner of the lot, he encountered upon the + pavement a citizen of elderly and plain appearance, strolling with a + grandchild. The two men met and passed, each upon his opposite way, + without pausing and without salutation, and neither Richard nor Laura, + whose eyes were upon the meeting, perceived that they had taken cognizance + of each other. But one had asked a question and the other had answered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pryor spoke in a low monotone, with a rapidity as singular as the + restrained but perceptible emphasis he put upon one word of his question. + </p> + <p> + “I got you in the park,” he said; and it is to be deduced that + “got” was argot. “You’re not <i>doing</i> anything + here, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” answered Corliss with condensed venom, his back already + to the other. He fanned himself with his hat as he went on. Mr. Pryor + strolled up the street with imperturbable benevolence. + </p> + <p> + “Your coast is cleared,” said Laura, “since you wouldn’t + clear it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Wish me luck,” said Richard as he left her. + </p> + <p> + She nodded brightly. + </p> + <p> + Before he disappeared, he looked back to her again (which profoundly + surprised her) and smiled rather disconsolately, shaking his head as in + prophecy of no very encouraging reception indoors. The manner of this + glance recalled to Laura what his mother had once said of him. “Richard + is one of those sweet, helpless men that some women adore and others + despise. They fall in love with the ones that despise them.” + </p> + <p> + An ostentatious cough made her face about, being obviously designed to + that effect; and she beheld her brother in the act of walking slowly + across the yard with his back to her. He halted upon the border of her + small garden of asters, regarded it anxiously, then spread his + handkerchief upon the ground, knelt upon it, and with thoughtful care + uprooted a few weeds which were beginning to sprout, and also such vagrant + blades of grass as encroached upon the floral territory. He had the air of + a virtuous man performing a good action which would never become known. + Plainly, he thought himself in solitude and all unobserved. + </p> + <p> + It was a touching picture, pious and humble. Done into coloured glass, the + kneeling boy and the asters—submerged in ardent sunshine—would + have appropriately enriched a cathedral: Boyhood of Saint Florus the + Gardener. + </p> + <p> + Laura heartlessly turned her back, and, affecting an interest in her + sleeve, very soon experienced the sensation of being stared at with some + poignancy from behind. Unchanged in attitude, she unravelled an imaginary + thread, whereupon the cough reached her again, shrill and loud, its + insistence not lacking in pathos. + </p> + <p> + She approached him, driftingly. No sign that he was aware came from the + busied boy, though he coughed again, hollowly now—a proof that he + was an artist. “All right, Hedrick,” she said kindly. “I + heard you the first time.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up with utter incomprehension. “I’m afraid I’ve + caught cold,” he said, simply. “I got a good many weeds out + before breakfast, and the ground was damp.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick was of the New School: everything direct, real, no striving for + effect, no pressure on the stroke. He did his work: you could take it or + leave it. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t strain so, dear,” returned his sister, + shaking her head. “It won’t last if you do. You see this is + only the first day.” + </p> + <p> + Struck to the heart by so brutal a misconception, he put all his wrongs + into one look, rose in manly dignity, picked up his handkerchief, and left + her. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes followed him, not without remorse: it was an exit which would + have moved the bass-violist of a theatre orchestra. Sighing, she went to + her own room by way of the kitchen and the back-stairs, and, having locked + her door, brought the padlocked book from its hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + “I think I should not have played as I did, an hour ago,” she + wrote. “It stirs me too greatly and I am afraid it makes me inclined + to self-pity afterward, and I must never let myself feel <i>that</i>! If I + once begin to feel sorry for myself. . . . But I <i>will</i> not! No. You + are here in the world. You exist. You <i>are</i>! That is the great thing + to know and it must be enough for me. It is. I played to You. I played <i>just + love</i> to you—all the yearning tenderness—all the supreme + kindness I want to give you. Isn’t love really just glorified + kindness? No, there is something more. . . . I feel it, though I do not + know how to say it. But it was in my playing—I played it and played + it. Suddenly I felt that in my playing I had shouted it from the + housetops, that I had told the secret to all the world and <i>everybody</i> + knew. I stopped, and for a moment it seemed to me that I was dying of + shame. But no one understood. No one had even listened. . . . Sometimes it + seems to me that I am like Cora, that I am very deeply her sister in some + things. My heart goes all to You—my revelation of it, my release of + it, my outlet of it is all here in these pages (except when I play as I + did to-day and as I shall not play again) and perhaps the writing keeps me + quiet. Cora scatters her own releasings: she is looking for the You she + may never find; and perhaps the penalty for scattering is never finding. + Sometimes I think the seeking has reacted and that now she seeks only what + will make her feel. I hope she has not found it: I am afraid of this new + man—not only for your sake, dear. I felt repelled by his glance at + me the first time I saw him. I did not like it—I cannot say just + why, unless that it seemed too intimate. I am afraid of him for her, which + is a queer sort of feeling because she has alw——” + </p> + <p> + Laura’s writing stopped there, for that day, interrupted by a + hurried rapping upon the door and her mother’s voice calling her + with stress and urgency. + </p> + <p> + The opening of the door revealed Mrs. Madison in a state of anxious + perturbation, and admitted the sound of loud weeping and agitated voices + from below. + </p> + <p> + “Please go down,” implored the mother. “You can do more + with her than I can. She and your father have been having a terrible scene + since Richard went home.” + </p> + <p> + Laura hurried down to the library. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN + </h2> + <p> + “Oh, <i>come</i> in, Laura!” cried her sister, as Laura + appeared in the doorway. “Don’t <i>stand</i> there! Come in if + you want to take part in a grand old family row!” With a furious and + tear-stained face, she was confronting her father who stood before her in + a resolute attitude and a profuse perspiration. “Shut the door!” + shouted Cora violently, adding, as Laura obeyed, “Do you want that + little Pest in here? Probably he’s eavesdropping anyway. But what + difference does it make? I don’t care. Let him hear! Let anybody + hear that wants to! They can hear how I’m tortured if they like. I + didn’t close my eyes last night, and now I’m being tortured. + Papa!” She stamped her foot. “Are you going to take back that + insult to me?” + </p> + <p> + “`Insult’?” repeated her father, in angry astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw,” said Laura, laughing soothingly and coming to her. + “You know that’s nonsense, Cora. Kind old papa couldn’t + do that if he tried. Dear, you know he never insulted anybody in his——” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t touch me!” screamed Cora, repulsing her. “Listen, + if you’ve got to, but let me alone. He did too! He did! He <i>knows</i> + what he said!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not!” + </p> + <p> + “He does! He does!” cried Cora. “He said that I was—I + was too much `interested’ in Mr. Corliss.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that an `insult’?” the father demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “It was the way he said it,” Cora protested, sobbing. “He + meant something he didn’t <i>say</i>. He did! He did! He <i>meant</i> + to insult me!” + </p> + <p> + “I did nothing of the kind,” shouted the old man. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I said I couldn’t + understand your getting so excited about the fellow’s affairs and + that you seemed to take a mighty sudden interest in him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what if I <i>do</i>?” she screamed. “Haven’t + I a right to be interested in what I choose? I’ve got to be + interested in <i>something</i>, haven’t I? <i>You</i> don’t + make life very interesting, do you? Do you think it’s interesting to + spend the summer in this horrible old house with the paper falling off the + walls and our rotten old furniture that I work my hands off trying to make + look decent and can’t, and every other girl I know at the seashore + with motor-cars and motor-boats, or getting a trip abroad and buying her + clothes in Paris? What do <i>you</i> offer to interest me?” + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate man hung his head. “I don’t see what all that + has to do with it——” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to leap at him. “You <i>don’t</i>? You <i>don’t</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t. And I don’t see why you’re so crazy + to please young Corliss about this business unless you’re infatuated + with him. I had an idea—and I was pleased with it, too, because + Richard’s a steady fellow—that you were just about engaged to + Richard Lindley, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Engaged!” she cried, repeating the word with bitter contempt. + “Engaged! You don’t suppose I’ll marry him unless I want + to, do you? I will if it suits me. I won’t if it suits me not to; + understand that! I don’t consider myself engaged to anybody, and you + needn’t either. What on earth has that got to do with your keeping + Richard Lindley from doing what Mr. Corliss wants him to?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not keeping him from anything. He didn’t say——” + </p> + <p> + “He did!” stormed Cora. “He said he would if you went + into it. He told me this afternoon, an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Now wait,” said Madison. “I talked this over with + Richard two days ago——” + </p> + <p> + Cora stamped her foot again in frantic exasperation. “I’m + talking about this afternoon!” + </p> + <p> + “Two days ago,” he repeated doggedly; “and we came to + the same conclusion: it won’t do. He said he couldn’t go into + it unless he went over there to Italy—and saw for himself just what + he was putting his money into, and Corliss had told him that it couldn’t + be done; that there wasn’t time, and showed him a cablegram from his + Italian partner saying the secret had leaked out and that they’d + have to form the company in Naples and sell the stock over there if it + couldn’t be done here within the next week. Corliss said he had to + ask for an immediate answer, and so Richard told him no, yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” groaned Cora. “What has that got to do + with <i>your</i> going into it? You’re not going to risk any money! + I don’t ask you to <i>spend</i> anything, do I? You haven’t + got it if I did. All Mr. Corliss wants is your name. Can’t you give + even <i>that</i>? What importance is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it isn’t important, what difference does it make + whether I give it or not?” + </p> + <p> + She flung up her arms as in despairing appeal for patience. “It <i>is</i> + important to him! Richard will do it if you will be secretary of the + company: he promised me. Mr. Corliss told me your name was worth + everything here: that men said downtown you could have been rich long ago + if you hadn’t been so square. Richard trusts you; he says you’re + the most trusted man in town——” + </p> + <p> + “That’s why I can’t do it,” he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “No!” Her vehemence increased suddenly to its utmost. “No! + Don’t you say that, because it’s a lie. That isn’t the + reason you won’t do it. You won’t do it because you think it + would please <i>me</i>! You’re afraid it might make me <i>happy</i>! + Happy—happy—<i>happy</i>!” She beat her breast and cast + herself headlong upon the sofa, sobbing wildly. “Don’t come + near me!” she screamed at Laura, and sprang to her feet again, + dishevelled and frantic. “Oh, Christ in heaven! is there such a + thing as happiness in this beast of a world? I want to leave it. I want to + go away: I want <i>so</i> to die: Why can’t I? Why can’t I! + Why can’t I! Oh, God, why <i>can’t</i> I die? Why can’t——” + </p> + <p> + Her passion culminated in a shriek: she gasped, was convulsed from head to + foot for a dreadful moment, tore at the bosom of her dress with rigid bent + fingers, swayed; then collapsed all at once. Laura caught her, and got her + upon the sofa. In the hall, Mrs. Madison could be heard running and + screaming to Hedrick to go for the doctor. Next instant, she burst into + the room with brandy and camphor. + </p> + <p> + “I could only find these; the ammonia bottle’s empty,” + she panted; and the miserable father started hatless, for the drug-store, + a faint, choked wail from the stricken girl sounding in his ears: “It’s—it’s + my heart, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + It was four blocks to the nearest pharmacy; he made what haste he could in + the great heat, but to himself he seemed double his usual weight; and the + more he tried to hurry, the less speed appeared obtainable from his heavy + legs. When he reached the place at last, he found it crowded with noisy + customers about the “soda-fount”; and the clerks were stonily + slow: they seemed to know that they were “already in eternity.” + He got very short of breath on the way home; he ceased to perspire and + became unnaturally dry; the air was aflame and the sun shot fire upon his + bare head. His feet inclined to strange disobediences: he walked the last + block waveringly. A solemn Hedrick met him at the door. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve got her to bed,” announced the boy. “The + doctor’s up there.” + </p> + <p> + “Take this ammonia up,” said Madison huskily, and sat down + upon a lower step of the stairway with a jolt, closing his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You sick, too?” asked Hedrick. + </p> + <p> + “No. Run along with that ammonia.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Madison a long time that he sat there alone, and he felt very + dizzy. Once he tried to rise, but had to give it up and remain sitting + with his eyes shut. At last he heard Cora’s door open and close; and + his wife and the doctor came slowly down the stairs, Mrs. Madison talking + in the anxious yet relieved voice of one who leaves a sick-room wherein + the physician pronounces progress encouraging. + </p> + <p> + “And you’re <i>sure</i> her heart trouble isn’t organic?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Her heart is all right,” her companion assured her. “There’s + nothing serious; the trouble is nervous. I think you’ll find she’ll + be better after a good sleep. Just keep her quiet. Hadn’t she been + in a state of considerable excitement?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es—she——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! A little upset on account of opposition to a plan she’d + formed, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—partly,” assented the mother. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he returned, adding with some dryness: “I + thought it just possible.” + </p> + <p> + Madison got to his feet, and stepped down from the stairs for them to pass + him. He leaned heavily against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “You think she’s going to be all right, Sloane?” he + asked with an effort. + </p> + <p> + “No cause to worry,” returned the physician. “You can + let her stay in bed to-day if she wants to but——” He + broke off, looking keenly at Madison’s face, which was the colour of + poppies. “Hello! what’s up with <i>you</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m all—right.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are?” retorted Sloane with sarcasm. “Sit down,” + he commanded. “Sit right where you are—on the stairs, here,” + and, having enforced the order, took a stethoscope from his pocket. + “Get him a glass of water,” he said to Hedrick, who was at his + elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor!” exclaimed Mrs. Madison. “<i>He</i> isn’t + going to be sick, is he? You don’t think he’s sick <i>now</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t call him very well,” answered the physician + rather grimly, placing his stethoscope upon Madison’s breast. + “Get his room ready for him.” She gave him a piteous look, + struck with fear; then obeyed a gesture and ran flutteringly up the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + “I’m all right now,” panted Madison, drinking the water + Hedrick brought him. + </p> + <p> + “You’re not so darned all right,” said Sloane coolly, as + he pocketed his stethoscope. “Come, let me help you up. We’re + going to get you to bed.” + </p> + <p> + There was an effort at protest, but the physician had his way, and the two + ascended the stairs slowly, Sloane’s arm round his new patient. At + Cora’s door, the latter paused. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I want,” said Madison thickly—“I want—to + speak to Cora.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll pass that up just now,” returned the other + brusquely, and led him on. Madison was almost helpless: he murmured in a + husky, uncertain voice, and suffered himself to be put to bed. There, the + doctor “worked” with him; cold “applications” were + ordered; Laura was summoned from the other sick-bed; Hedrick sent flying + with prescriptions, then to telephone for a nurse. The two women attempted + questions at intervals, but Sloane replied with orders, and kept them + busy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you—think I’m a—-a pretty sick man, Sloane?” + asked Madison after a long silence, speaking with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’re sick, all right,” the doctor conceded. + </p> + <p> + “I—I want to speak to Jennie.” + </p> + <p> + His wife rushed to the bed, and knelt beside it. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you go to confessing your sins,” said Doctor + Sloane crossly. “You’re coming out of the woods all right, and + you’ll be sorry if you tell her too, much. I’ll begin a little + flirtation with you, Miss Laura, if you please.” And he motioned to + her to follow him into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Your father <i>is</i> pretty sick,” he told her, “and + he may be sicker before we get him into shape again. But you needn’t + be worried right now; I think he’s not in immediate danger.” + He turned at the sound of Mrs. Madison’s step, behind him, and + repeated to her what he had just said to Laura. “I hope your husband + didn’t give himself away enough to be punished when we get him on + his feet again,” he concluded cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, tried to smile through tears, and, crossing the hall, + entered Cora’s room. She came back after a moment, and, rejoining + the other two at her husband’s bedside, found the sick man in a + stertorous sleep. Presently the nurse arrived, and upon the physician’s + pointed intimation that there were “too many people around,” + Laura went to Cora’s room. She halted on the threshold in surprise. + Cora was dressing. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma says the doctor says he’s all right,” said Cora + lightly, “and I’m feeling so much better myself I thought I’d + put on something loose and go downstairs. I think there’s more air + down there.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa isn’t all right, dear,” said Laura, staring + perplexedly at Cora’s idea of “something loose,” an + equipment inclusive of something particularly close. “The doctor + says he is very sick.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it,” returned Cora promptly. “Old + Sloane never did know anything. Besides, mamma told me he said papa isn’t + in any danger.” + </p> + <p> + “No `immediate’ danger,” corrected Laura. “And + besides, Doctor Sloane said you were to stay in bed until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help that.” Cora went on with her lacing + impatiently. “I’m not going to lie and stifle in this heat + when I feel perfectly well again—not for an old idiot like Sloane! + He didn’t even have sense enough to give me any medicine.” She + laughed. “Lucky thing he didn’t: I’d have thrown it out + of the window. Kick that slipper to me, will you, dear?” + </p> + <p> + Laura knelt and put the slipper on her sister’s foot. “Cora, + dear,” she said, “you’re just going to put on a negligee + and go down and sit in the library, aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Laura!” The tone was more than impatient. “I wish I + could be let alone for five whole minutes some time in my life! Don’t + you think I’ve stood enough for one day? I can’t bear to be + questioned, questioned, questioned! What do you do it for? Don’t you + see I can’t stand anything more? If you can’t let me alone I + do wish you’d keep out of my room.” + </p> + <p> + Laura rose and went out; but as she left the door, Cora called after her + with a rueful laugh: “Laura, I know I’m a little devil!” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, Laura, suffering because she had made no reply to this + peace-offering, and wishing to atone, sought Cora downstairs and found no + one. She decided that Cora must still be in her own room; she would go to + her there. But as she passed the open front door, she saw Cora upon the + sidewalk in front of the house. She wore a new and elaborate motoring + costume, charmingly becoming, and was in the act of mounting to a seat + beside Valentine Corliss in a long, powerful-looking, white “roadster” + automobile. The engine burst into staccato thunder, sobered down; the + wheels began to move both Cora and Corliss were laughing and there was an + air of triumph about them—Cora’s veil streamed and fluttered: + and in a flash they were gone. + </p> + <p> + Laura stared at the suddenly vacated space where they had been. At a + thought she started. Then she rushed upstairs to her mother, who was + sitting in the hall near her husband’s door. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” whispered Laura, flinging herself upon her knees + beside her, “when papa wanted to speak to you, was it a message to + Cora?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear. He told me to tell her he was sorry he’d made her + sick, and that if he got well he’d try to do what she asked him to.” + </p> + <p> + Laura nodded cheerfully. “And he <i>will</i> get well, darling + mother,” she said, as she rose. “I’ll come back in a + minute and sit with you.” + </p> + <p> + Her return was not so quick as she promised, for she lay a long time + weeping upon her pillow, whispering over and over: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, poor, poor papa! Oh, poor, poor Richard!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE + </h2> + <p> + Within a week Mr. Madison’s illness was a settled institution in the + household; the presence of the nurse lost novelty, even to Hedrick, and + became a part of life; the day was measured by the three regular visits of + the doctor. To the younger members of the family it seemed already that + their father had always been sick, and that he always would be; indeed, to + Cora and Hedrick he had become only a weak and querulous voice beyond a + closed door. Doctor Sloane was serious but reassuring, his daily + announcement being that his patient was in “no immediate danger.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Madison did not share her children’s sanguine adaptability; + and, of the three, Cora was the greatest solace to the mother’s + troubled heart, though Mrs. Madison never recognized this without a sense + of injustice to Laura, for Laura now was housewife and housekeeper—that + is, she did all the work except the cooking, and on “wash-day” + she did that. But Cora’s help was to the very spirit itself, for she + was sprightly in these hours of trial: with indomitable gayety she cheered + her mother, inspiring in her a firmer confidence, and, most stimulating of + all, Cora steadfastly refused to consider her father’s condition as + serious, or its outcome as doubtful. + </p> + <p> + Old Sloane exaggerated, she said; and she made fun of his gravity, his + clothes and his walk, which she mimicked till she drew a reluctant and + protesting laugh from even her mother. Mrs. Madison was sure she “couldn’t + get through” this experience save for Cora, who was indeed the light + of the threatened house. + </p> + <p> + Strange perversities of this world: Cora’s gayety was almost + unbearable to her brother. Not because he thought it either unfeeling or + out of place under the circumstances (an aspect he failed to consider), + but because years of warfare had so frequently made him connect + cheerfulness on her part with some unworthily won triumph over himself + that habit prevailed, and he could not be a witness of her high spirits + without a strong sense of injury. Additionally, he was subject to a deeply + implanted suspicion of any appearance of unusual happiness in her as + having source, if not in his own defeat, then in something vaguely “soft” + and wholly distasteful. She grated upon him; he chafed, and his sufferings + reached the surface. Finally, in a reckless moment, one evening at dinner, + he broke out with a shout and hurled a newly devised couplet concerning + luv-a-ly slush at his, sister’s head. The nurse was present: Cora + left the table; and Hedrick later received a serious warning from Laura. + She suggested that it might become expedient to place him in Cora’s + power. + </p> + <p> + “Cora knows perfectly well that something peculiar happened to you,” + she advised him. “And she knows that I know what it was; and she + says it isn’t very sisterly of me not to tell her. Now, Hedrick, + there was no secret about it; you didn’t <i>confide</i> your—your + trouble to me, and it would be perfectly honourable of me to tell it. I + wont{sic} unless you make me, but if you can’t be polite and keep + peace with Cora—at least while papa is sick I think it may be + necessary. I believe,” she finished with imperfect gravity, “that + it—it would keep things quieter.” + </p> + <p> + The thoughts of a boy may be long, long thoughts, but he cannot + persistently remember to fear a threatened catastrophe. Youth is too + quickly intimate with peril. Hedrick had become familiar with his own, had + grown so accustomed to it he was in danger of forgetting it altogether; + therefore it was out of perspective. The episode of Lolita had begun to + appear as a thing of the distant and clouded past: time is so long at + thirteen. Added to this, his late immaculate deportment had been, as Laura + suggested, a severe strain; the machinery of his nature was out of + adjustment and demanded a violent reaction before it could get to running + again at average speed. Also, it is evident that his destruction had been + planned on high, for he was mad enough to answer flippantly: + </p> + <p> + “Tell her! Go on and tell her—<i>I</i> give you leaf! <i>that</i> + wasn’t anything anyway—just helped you get a little idiot girl + home. What is there to that? I never saw her before; never saw her again; + didn’t have half as much to do with her as you did yourself. She was + a lot more <i>your</i> friend than mine; I didn’t even know her. I + guess you’ll have to get something better on me than that, before + you try to boss <i>this</i> ranch, Laura Madison!” + </p> + <p> + That night, in bed, he wondered if he had not been perhaps a trifle rash; + but the day was bright when he awoke, and no apprehension shadowed his + morning face as he appeared at the breakfast table. On the contrary, a + great weight had lifted from him; clearly his defiance had been the proper + thing; he had shown Laura that her power over him was but imaginary. + Hypnotized by his own words to her, he believed them; and his previous + terrors became gossamer; nay, they were now merely laughable. His own + remorse and shame were wholly blotted from memory, and he could not + understand why in the world he had been so afraid, nor why he had felt it + so necessary to placate Laura. She looked very meek this morning. <i>That</i> + showed! The strong hand was the right policy in dealing with women. He was + tempted to insane daring: the rash, unfortunate child waltzed on the lip + of the crater. + </p> + <p> + “Told Cora yet?” he asked, with scornful laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Told me what?” Cora looked quickly up from her plate. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing about this Corliss,” he returned scathingly. + “Don’t get excited.” + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick!” remonstrated his mother, out of habit. + </p> + <p> + “She never thinks of anything else these days,” he retorted. + “Rides with him every evening in his pe-rin-sley hired machine, + doesn’t she?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, you should be more careful about the way you handle a + spoon, Hedrick,” said Cora languidly, and with at least a foundation + of fact. “It is not the proper implement for decorating the cheeks. + We all need nourishment, but it is <i>so</i> difficult when one sees a + deposit of breakfast-food in the ear of one’s vis-a-vis.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick too impulsively felt of his ears and was but the worse stung to + find them immaculate and the latter half of the indictment unjustified. + </p> + <p> + “Spoon!” he cried. “I wouldn’t talk about spoons + if I were you, Cora-lee! After what I saw in the library the other night, + believe <i>me</i>, you’re the one of this family that better be + careful how you `handle a spoon’!” + </p> + <p> + Cora had a moment of panic. She let the cup she was lifting drop noisily + upon its saucer, and gazed whitely at the boy, her mouth opening wide. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” he went on, with a dreadful laugh. “I didn’t + hear you asking this Corliss to kiss you! Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + At this, though her mother and Laura both started, a faint, odd relief + showed itself in Cora’s expression. She recovered herself. + </p> + <p> + “You little liar!” she flashed, and, with a single quick look + at her mother, as of one too proud to appeal, left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick, Hedrick, Hedrick!” wailed Mrs. Madison. “And + she told me you drove her from the table last night too, right before Miss + Peirce!” Miss Peirce was the nurse, fortunately at this moment in + the sick-room. + </p> + <p> + “I <i>did</i> hear her ask him that,” he insisted, sullenly. + “Don’t you believe it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not!” + </p> + <p> + Burning with outrage, he also left his meal unfinished and departed in + high dignity. He passed through the kitchen, however, on his way out of + the house; but, finding an unusual politeness to the cook nothing except + its own reward, went on his way with a bitter perception of the emptiness + of the world and other places. + </p> + <p> + “Your father managed to talk more last night,” said Mrs. + Madison pathetically to Laura. “He made me understand that he was + fretting about how little we’d been able to give our children; so + few advantages; it’s always troubled him terribly. But sometimes I + wonder if we’ve done right: we’ve neither of us ever exercised + any discipline. We just couldn’t bear to. You see, not having any + money, or the things money could buy, to give, I think we’ve + instinctively tried to make up for it by indulgence in other ways, and + perhaps it’s been a bad thing. Not,” she added hastily, + “not that you aren’t all three the best children any mother + and father ever had! <i>He</i> said so. He said the only trouble was that + our children were too good for us.” She shook her head remorsefully + throughout Laura’s natural reply to this; was silent a while; then, + as she rose, she said timidly, not looking at her daughter: “Of + course Hedrick didn’t mean to tell an outright lie. They were just + talking, and perhaps he—perhaps he heard something that made him + think what he <i>did</i>. People are so often mistaken in what they hear, + even when they’re talking right to each other, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it more likely,” said Laura, gravely, “that + Cora was telling some story or incident, and that Hedrick overheard that + part of it, and thought she was speaking directly to Mr. Corliss?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” cried the mother with instant and buoyant relief; + and when the three ladies convened, a little later, Cora (unquestioned) + not only confirmed this explanation, but repeated in detail the story she + had related to Mr. Corliss. Laura had been quick. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick passed a variegated morning among comrades. He obtained prestige + as having a father like-to-die, but another boy turned up who had learned + to chew tobacco. Then Hedrick was pronounced inferior to others in turning + “cartwheels,” but succeeded in a wrestling match for an apple, + which he needed. Later, he was chased empty-handed from the rear of an + ice-wagon, but greatly admired for his retorts to the vociferous chaser: + the other boys rightly considered that what he said to the ice-man was + much more horrible than what the ice-man said to him. The ice-man had a + fair vocabulary, but it lacked pliancy; seemed stiff and fastidious + compared with the flexible Saxon in which Hedrick sketched a family tree + lacking, perhaps, some plausibility as having produced even an ice-man, + but curiously interesting zoologically. + </p> + <p> + He came home at noon with the flush of this victory new upon his brow. He + felt equal to anything, and upon Cora’s appearing at lunch with a + blithe, bright air and a new arrangement of her hair, he opened a fresh + campaign with ill-omened bravado. + </p> + <p> + “Ear-muffs in style for September, are they?” he inquired in + allusion to a symmetrical and becoming undulation upon each side of her + head. “Too bad Ray Vilas can’t come any more; he’d like + those, I know he would.” + </p> + <p> + Cora, who was talking jauntily to her mother, went on without heeding. She + affected her enunciation at times with a slight lisp; spoke preciously and + over-exquisitely, purposely mincing the letter R, at the same time + assuming a manner of artificial distinction and conscious elegance which + never failed to produce in her brother the last stage of exasperation. She + did this now. Charming woman, that dear Mrs. Villard, she prattled. + “I met her downtown this morning. Dear mamma, you should but have + seen her delight when she saw <i>me</i>. She was but just returned from + Bar Harbor——” + </p> + <p> + “`Baw-hawbaw’!” Poor Hedrick was successfully infuriated + immediately. “What in thunder is `Baw-hawbaw’? Mrs. Villawd! + Baw-hawbaw! Oh, maw!” + </p> + <p> + “She had no idea she should find <i>me</i> in town, she said,” + Cora ran on, happily. “She came back early on account of the + children having to be sent to school. She has such adorable children—beautiful, + dimpled babes——” + </p> + <h3> + “SLUSH! SLUSH! LUV-A-LY SLUSH!” + </h3> + <p> + “—And her dear son, Egerton Villard, he’s grown to be + such a comely lad, and he has the most charming courtly manners: he helped + his mother out of her carriage with all the air of a man of the world, and + bowed to me as to a duchess. I think he might be a great influence for + good if the dear Villards would but sometimes let him associate a little + with our unfortunate Hedrick. Egerton Villard is really <i>distingue</i>; + he has a beautiful head; and if he could be induced but to let Hedrick + follow him about but a little——” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll beat his beautiful head off for him if he but butts in + on me but a little!” Hedrick promised earnestly. “Idiot!” + </p> + <p> + Cora turned toward him innocently. “What did you say, Hedrick?” + </p> + <p> + “I said `Idiot’!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Egerton Villard?” + </p> + <p> + “Both of you!” + </p> + <p> + “You think I’m an idiot, Hedrick?” Her tone was calm, + merely inquisitive. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she said pleasantly. “Don’t you think if + I were <i>really</i> an idiot I’d be even fonder of you than I am?” + </p> + <p> + It took his breath. In a panic he sat waiting he knew not what; but Cora + blandly resumed her interrupted remarks to her mother, beginning a + description of Mrs. Villard’s dress; Laura was talking unconcernedly + to Miss Peirce; no one appeared to be aware that anything unusual had been + said. His breath came back, and, summoning his presence of mind, he found + himself able to consider his position with some degree of assurance. + Perhaps, after all, Cora’s retort had been merely a coincidence. He + went over and over it in his mind, making a pretence, meanwhile, to be + busy with his plate. “If I were <i>really</i> an idiot.” . . . + It was the “<i>really</i>” that troubled him. But for that one + word, he could have decided that her remark was a coincidence; but “<i>really</i>” + was ominous; had a sinister ring. “If I were <i>really</i> an idiot!” + Suddenly the pleasant clouds that had obscured his memory of the fatal + evening were swept away as by a monstrous Hand: it all came back to him + with sickening clearness. So is it always with the sinner with his sin and + its threatened discovery. Again, in his miserable mind, he sat beside + Lolita on the fence, with the moon shining through her hair; and he knew—for + he had often read it—that a man could be punished his whole life + through for a single moment’s weakness. A man might become rich, + great, honoured, and have a large family, but his one soft sin would + follow him, hunt him out and pull him down at last. “<i>Really</i> + an idiot!” Did that relentless Comanche, Cora, know this Thing? He + shuddered. Then he fell back upon his faith in Providence. It <i>could</i> + not be that she knew! Ah, no! Heaven would not let the world be so bad as + that! And yet it did sometimes become negligent—he remembered the + case of a baby-girl cousin who fell into the bath-tub and was drowned. + Providence had allowed that: What assurance had he that it would not go a + step farther? + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hedrick,” said Cora, turning toward him cheerfully, + “you’re not really eating anything; you’re only + pretending to.” His heart sank with apprehension. Was it coming? + “You really must eat,” she went on. “School begins so + soon, you must be strong, you know. How we shall miss you here at home + during your hours of work!” + </p> + <p> + With that, the burden fell from his shoulders, his increasing terrors took + wing. If Laura had told his ghastly secret to Cora, the latter would not + have had recourse to such weak satire as this. Cora was not the kind of + person to try a popgun on an enemy when she had a thirteen-inch gun at her + disposal; so he reasoned; and in the gush of his relief and happiness, + responded: + </p> + <p> + “You’re a little too cocky lately, Cora-lee: I wish you were + <i>my</i> daughter—just about five minutes!” + </p> + <p> + Cora looked upon him fondly. “What would you do to me,” she + inquired with a terrible sweetness—“darling little boy?” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick’s head swam. The blow was square in the face; it jarred + every bone; the world seemed to topple. His mother, rising from her chair, + choked slightly, and hurried to join the nurse, who was already on her way + upstairs. Cora sent an affectionate laugh across the table to her stunned + antagonist. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn’t beat me, would you, dear?” she murmured. + “I’m almost sure you wouldn’t; not if I asked you to + kiss me some <i>more</i>.” + </p> + <p> + All doubt was gone, the last hope fled! The worst had arrived. A vision of + the awful future flamed across his staggered mind. The doors to the arena + were flung open: the wild beasts howled for hunger of him; the spectators + waited. + </p> + <p> + Cora began lightly to sing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . “Dear, + Would thou wert near + To hear me tell how fair thou art! + Since thou art gone I mourn all alone, + Oh, my Lolita——” + </pre> + <p> + She broke off to explain: “It’s one of those passionate little + Spanish serenades, Hedrick. I’ll sing it for your boy-friends next + time they come to play in the yard. I think they’d like it. When + they know why you like it so much, I’m sure they will. Of course you + <i>do</i> like it—you roguish little lover!” A spasm rewarded + this demoniacal phrase. “Darling little boy, the serenade goes on + like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, my Lolita, come to my heart: + Oh, come beloved, love let me press thee, + While I caress thee + In one long kiss, Lolita! + Lolita come! Let me——” + </pre> + <p> + Hedrick sprang to his feet with a yell of agony. “Laura Madison, you + tattle-tale,” he bellowed, “I’ll never forgive you as + long as I live! I’ll get even with you if it takes a thousand years!” + </p> + <p> + With that, and pausing merely to kick a rung out of a chair which happened + to be in his way, he rushed from the room. + </p> + <p> + His sisters had risen to go, and Cora flung her arms round Laura in + ecstacy. “You mean old viper!” she cried. “You could + have told me days ago! It’s almost too good to be true: it’s + the first time in my whole life I’ve felt safe from the Pest for a + moment!” + </p> + <p> + Laura shook her head. “My conscience troubles me; it did seem as if + I ought to tell you—and mamma thought so, too; and I gave him + warning, but now that I have done it, it seems rather mean and——” + </p> + <p> + “No!” exclaimed Cora. “You just gave me a chance to + protect myself for once, thank heaven!” And she picked up her skirts + and danced her way into the front hall. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid,” said Laura, following, “I shouldn’t + have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Laura,” cried the younger girl, “I am having the + best time, these days! This just caps it.” She lowered her voice, + but her eyes grew even brighter. “I think I’ve shown a certain + gentleman a few things he didn’t understand!” + </p> + <p> + “Who, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Val,” returned Cora lightly; “Valentine Corliss. I + think he knows a little more about women than he did when he first came + here.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve had a difference with him?” asked Laura with + eager hopefulness. “You’ve broken with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord, no! Nothing like that.” Cora leaned to her + confidentially. “He told me, once, he’d be at the feet of any + woman that could help put through an affair like his oil scheme, and I + decided I’d just show him what I could do. He’d talk about it + to me; then he’d laugh at me. That very Sunday when I got papa to go + in——” + </p> + <p> + “But he didn’t,” said Laura helplessly. “He only + said he’d try to——when he gets well.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s all the same—and it’ll be a great thing for + him, too,” said Cora, gayly. “Well, that very afternoon before + Val left, he practically told me I was no good. Of course he didn’t + use just those words—that isn’t his way—but he laughed + at me. And haven’t I shown him! I sent Richard a note that very + night saying papa had consented to be secretary of the company, and + Richard had said he’d go in if papa did that, and he couldn’t + break his word——” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Laura, sighing. “I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Laura”—Cora spoke with sudden gravity—“did + you ever know anybody like me? I’m almost getting superstitious + about it, because it seems to me I <i>always</i> get just what I set out + to get. I believe I could have anything in the world if I tried for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, if you tried for something good for you,” said + Laura sadly. “Cora, dear, you will—you will be a little easy + on Hedrick, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Cora leaned against the newel and laughed till she was exhausted. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTEEN + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Trumble’s offices were heralded by a neat blazon upon the + principal door, “Wade J. Trumble, Mortgages and Loans”; and + the gentleman thus comfortably, proclaimed, emerging from that door upon a + September noontide, burlesqued a start of surprise at sight of a figure + unlocking an opposite door which exhibited the name, “Ray Vilas,” + and below it, the cryptic phrase, “Probate Law.” + </p> + <p> + “Water!” murmured Mr. Trumble, affecting to faint. “You + ain’t going in <i>there</i>, are you, Ray?” He followed the + other into the office, and stood leaning against a bookcase, with his + hands in his pockets, while Vilas raised the two windows, which were + obscured by a film of smoke-deposit: there was a thin coat of fine sifted + dust over everything. “Better not sit down, Ray,” continued + Trumble, warningly. “You’ll spoil your clothes and you might + get a client. That word `Probate’ on the door ain’t going to + keep ’em out forever. You recognize the old place, I s’pose? + You must have been here at least twice since you moved in. What’s + the matter? Dick Lindley hasn’t missionaried you into any idea of <i>working</i>, + has he? Oh, no, <i>I</i> see: the Richfield Hotel bar has closed—you’ve + managed to drink it all at last!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard how old man Madison is to-day?” asked Ray, + dusting his fingers with a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody told me yesterday he was about the same. He’s not + going to get well.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” Ray spoke quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Stroke too severe. People never recover——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they do, too.” + </p> + <p> + Trumble began hotly: “I beg to dif——” but checked + himself, manifesting a slight confusion. “That is, I know they don’t. + Old Madison may live a while, if you call that getting well; but he’ll + never be the same man he was. Doctor Sloane says it was a bad stroke. Says + it was `induced by heat prostration and excitement.’ `Excitement!’” + he repeated with a sour laugh. “Yep, I expect a man could get all + the excitement he wanted in <i>that</i> house, especially if he was her + daddy. Poor old man, I don’t believe he’s got five thousand + dollars in the world, and look how she dresses!” + </p> + <p> + Ray opened a compartment beneath one of the bookcases, and found a bottle + and some glasses. “Aha,” he muttered, “our janitor doesn’t + drink, I perceive. Join me?” Mr. Trumble accepted, and Ray + explained, cheerfully: “Richard Lindley’s got me so cowed I’m + afraid to go near any of my old joints. You see, he trails me; the + scoundrel has kept me sober for whole days at a time, and I’ve been + mortified, having old friends see me in that condition; so I have to sneak + up here to my own office to drink to Cora, now and then. You mustn’t + tell him. What’s she been doing to <i>you</i>, lately?” + </p> + <p> + The little man addressed grew red with the sharp, resentful memory. + “Oh, nothing! Just struck me in the face with her parasol on the + public street, that’s all!” He gave an account of his walk to + church with Cora. “I’m through with that girl!” he + exclaimed vindictively, in conclusion. “It was the damnedest thing + you ever saw in your life: right in broad daylight, in front of the + church. And she laughed when she did it; you’d have thought she was + knocking a puppy out of her way. She can’t do that to me twice, I + tell you. What the devil do you see to laugh at?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be around,” returned his companion, refilling + the glasses, “asking for more, the first chance she gives you. Here’s + her health!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t drink it!” cried Mr. Trumble angrily. + </p> + <p> + “And I’m through with her for good, I tell you! I’m not + your kind: I don’t let a girl like that upset me till I can’t + think of anything else, and go making such an ass of myself that the whole + town gabbles about it. Cora Madison’s seen the last of me, I’ll + thank you to notice. She’s never been half-decent to me; cut dances + with me all last winter; kept me hanging round the outskirts of every + crowd she was in; stuck me with Laura and her mother every time she had a + chance; then has the nerve to try to use me, so’s she can make a + bigger hit with a new man! You can bet your head I’m through! She’ll + get paid though! Oh, she’ll get paid for it!” + </p> + <p> + “How?” laughed Ray. + </p> + <p> + It was a difficult question. “You wait and see,” responded the + threatener, feebly. “Just wait and see. She’s wild about this + Corliss, I tell you,” he continued, with renewed vehemence. “She’s + crazy about him; she’s lost her head at last——” + </p> + <p> + “You mean he’s going to avenge you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t, though he might, if she decided to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” said Ray slowly, glancing over his glass at his + nervous companion, “it doesn’t strike me that Mr. Valentine + Corliss has much the air of a marrying man.” + </p> + <p> + “He has the air to <i>me</i>,” observed Mr. Trumble, “of + a darned bad lot! But I have to hand it to him: he’s a wizard. He’s + got something besides his good looks—a man that could get Cora + Madison interested in `business’! In <i>oil</i>! Cora Madison! How + do you suppose——” + </p> + <p> + His companion began to laugh again. “You don’t really suppose + he talked his oil business to her, do you, Trumble?” + </p> + <p> + “He must have. Else how could she——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Cora herself never talks upon any subject but one; she + never listens to any other either.” + </p> + <p> + “Then how in thunder did he——” + </p> + <p> + “If Cora asks you if you think it will rain,” interrupted + Vilas, “doesn’t she really seem to be asking: `Do you love me? + How much?’ Suppose Mr. Corliss is an expert in the same line. Of + course he can talk about oil!” + </p> + <p> + “He strikes me,” said Trumble, “as just about the + slickest customer that ever hit this town. I like Richard Lindley, and I + hope he’ll see his fifty thousand dollars again. <i>I</i> wouldn’t + have given Corliss thirty cents.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think he’s a crook?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say that,” returned Trumble. “All <i>I</i> + know about him is that he’s done some of the finest work to get + fifty thousand dollars put in his hands that I ever heard of. And all + anybody knows about him is that he lived here seventeen years ago, and + comes back claiming to know where there’s oil in Italy. He shows + some maps and papers and gets cablegrams signed `Moliterno.’ Then he + talks about selling the old Corliss house here, where the Madisons live, + and putting the money into his oil company: he does that to sound + plausible, but I have good reason to know that house was mortgaged to its + full value within a month after his aunt left it to him. He’ll not + get a cent if it’s sold. That’s all. And he’s got Cora + Madison so crazy over him that she makes life a hell for poor old Lindley + until he puts all he’s saved into the bubble. The scheme may be all + right. How do <i>I</i> know? There’s no way to tell, without going + over there, and Corliss won’t let anybody do that—oh, he’s + got a plausible excuse for it! But I’m sorry for Lindley: he’s + so crazy about Cora, he’s soft. And she’s so crazy about + Corliss <i>she’s</i> soft! Well, I used to be crazy about her + myself, but I’m not soft—I’m not the Lindley kind of + loon, thank heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “What kind are you, Trumble?” asked Ray, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “Not your kind either,” retorted the other going to the door. + “She cut me on the street the other day; she’s quit speaking + to me. If you’ve got any money, why don’t you take it over to + the hotel and give it to Corliss? She might start speaking to <i>you</i> + again. I’m going to lunch!” He slammed the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + Ray Vilas, left alone, elevated his heels to the sill, and stared out of + the window a long time at a gravelled roof which presented little of + interest. He replenished his glass and his imagination frequently, the + latter being so stirred that when, about three o’clock, he noticed + the inroads he had made upon the bottle, tears of self-pity came to his + eyes. “Poor little drunkard!” he said aloud. “Go ahead + and do it. Isn’t anything <i>you</i> won’t do!” And, + having washed his face at a basin in a corner, he set his hat slightly + upon one side, picked up a walking stick and departed jauntily, and, to + the outward eye, presentably sober. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Valentine Corliss would be glad to see him, the clerk at the Richfield + Hotel reported, after sending up a card, and upon Ray’s following + the card, Mr. Valentine Corliss in person confirmed the message with + considerable amusement and a cordiality in which there was some mixture of + the quizzical. He was the taller; and the robust manliness of his + appearance, his splendid health and boxer’s figure offered a sharp + contrast to the superlatively lean tippler. Corliss was humorously aware + of his advantage: his greeting seemed really to say, “Hello, my + funny bug, here you are again!” though the words of his salutation + were entirely courteous; and he followed it with a hospitable offer. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Vilas; “I won’t drink with you.” + He spoke so gently that the form of his refusal, usually interpreted as + truculent, escaped the other’s notice. He also declined a cigar, + apologetically asking permission to light one of his own cigarettes; then, + as he sank into a velour-covered chair, apologized again for the + particular attention he was bestowing upon the apartment, which he + recognized as one of the suites de luxe of the hotel. + </p> + <p> + “`Parlour, bedroom, and bath,’” he continued, with a + melancholy smile; “and `Lachrymae,’ and `A Reading from Homer.’ + Sometimes they have `The Music Lesson,’ or `Winter Scene’ or + `A Neapolitan Fisher Lad’ instead of `Lachrymae,’ but they + always have `A Reading from Homer.’ When you opened the door, a + moment ago, I had a very strong impression that something extraordinary + would some time happen to me in this room.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” suggested Corliss, “you refused a drink in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Even more wonderful than that,” said Ray, glancing about the + place curiously. “It may be a sense of something painful that + already has happened here—perhaps long ago, before your occupancy. + It has a pathos.” + </p> + <p> + “Most hotel rooms have had something happen in them,” said + Corliss lightly. “I believe the managers usually change the door + numbers if what happens is especially unpleasant. Probably they change + some of the rugs, also.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel——” Ray paused, frowning. “I feel as + if some one had killed himself here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then no doubt some of the rugs <i>have</i> been changed.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt.” The caller laughed and waved his hand in dismissal + of the topic. “Well, Mr. Corliss,” he went on, shifting to a + brisker tone, “I have come to make my fortune, too. You are Midas. + Am I of sufficient importance to be touched?” + </p> + <p> + Valentine Corliss gave him sidelong an almost imperceptibly brief glance + of sharpest scrutiny—it was like the wink of a camera shutter—but + laughed in the same instant. “Which way do you mean that?” + </p> + <p> + “You have been quick,” returned the visitor, repaying that + glance with equal swiftness, “to seize upon the American idiom. I + mean: How small a contribution would you be willing to receive toward your + support!” + </p> + <p> + Corliss did not glance again at Ray; instead, he looked interested in the + smoke of his cigar. “`Contribution,’” he repeated, with + no inflection whatever. “`Toward my support.’” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, of course, how small an investment in your oil company.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, anything, anything,” returned the promoter, with quick + amiability. “We need to sell all the stock we can.” + </p> + <p> + “All the money you can get?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. It’s really a colossal proposition, Mr. Vilas.” + Corliss spoke with brisk enthusiasm. “It’s a perfectly certain + enormous profit upon everything that goes in. Prince Moliterno cables me + later investigations show that the oil-field is more than twice as large + as we thought when I left Naples. He’s on the ground now, buying up + what he can, secretly.” + </p> + <p> + “I had an impression from Richard Lindley that the secret had been + discovered.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; but only by a few, and those are trying to keep it quiet + from the others, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Does your partner know of your success in raising a large + investment?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Lindley’s? Certainly.” Corliss waved his hand + in light deprecation. “Of course that’s something, but + Moliterno would hardly be apt to think of it as very large! You see he’s + putting in about five times that much, himself, and I’ve already + turned over to him double it for myself. Still, it counts—certainly; + and of course it will be a great thing for Lindley.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear,” Ray said hesitatingly, “you won’t be + much interested in my drop for your bucket. I have twelve hundred dollars + in the world; and it is in the bank—I stopped there on my way here. + To be exact, I have twelve hundred and forty-seven dollars and fifty-one + cents. My dear sir, will you allow me to purchase one thousand dollars’ + worth of stock? I will keep the two hundred and forty-seven dollars and + fifty-one cents to live on—I may need an egg while waiting for you + to make me rich. Will you accept so small an investment?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Corliss, laughing. “Why not? You may + as well profit by the chance as any one. I’ll send you the stock + certificates—we put them at par. I’m attending to that myself, + as our secretary, Mr. Madison, is unable to take up his duties.” + </p> + <p> + Vilas took a cheque-book and a fountain-pen from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, any time, any time,” said Corliss cheerfully, observing + the new investor’s movement. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I think,” returned Vilas quietly. “How shall I + make it out?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to me, I suppose,” answered Corliss indifferently. + “That will save a little trouble, and I can turn it over to + Moliterno, by cable, as I did Lindley’s. I’ll give you a + receipt——” + </p> + <p> + “You need not mind that,” said Ray. “Really it is of no + importance.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course the cheque itself is a receipt,” remarked Corliss, + tossing it carelessly upon a desk. “You’ll have some handsome + returns for that slip of paper, Mr. Vilas.” + </p> + <p> + “In that blithe hope I came,” said Ray airily. + </p> + <p> + “I am confident of it. I have my own ways of divination, Mr. + Corliss. I have gleams.” He rose as if to go, but stood looking + thoughtfully about the apartment again. “Singular impression,” + he murmured. “Not exactly as if I’d seen it in a dream; and + yet—and yet——” + </p> + <p> + “You have symptoms of clairvoyance at times, I take it.” The + conscious, smooth superiority of the dexterous man playing with an + inconsequent opponent resounded in this speech, clear as the humming of a + struck bell; and Vilas shot him a single open glance of fire from hectic + eyes. For that instant, the frailer buck trumpeted challenge. Corliss—broad-shouldered, + supple of waist, graceful and strong—smiled down negligently; yet + the very air between the two men seemed charged with an invisible + explosive. Ray laughed quickly, as in undisturbed good nature; then, + flourishing his stick, turned toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, it isn’t clairvoyance—no more than when I told + you that your only real interest is women.” He paused, his hand upon + the door-knob. “I’m a quaint mixture, however: perhaps I + should be handled with care.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good of you,” laughed Corliss—“this warning. + The afternoon I had the pleasure of meeting you I think I remember your + implying that you were a mere marionette.” + </p> + <p> + “A haggard harlequin!” snapped Vilas, waving his hand to a + mirror across the room. “Don’t I look it?” And the + phrase fitted him with tragic accuracy. “You see? What a merry + wedding-guest I’ll be! I invite you to join me on the nuptial eve.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. Who’s getting married: when the nuptial eve?” + </p> + <p> + Ray opened the door, and, turning, rolled his eyes fantastically. “Haven’t + you heard?” he cried. “When Hecate marries John Barleycorn!” + He bowed low. “Mr. Midas, adieu.” + </p> + <p> + Corliss stood in the doorway and watched him walk down the long hall to + the elevator. There, Ray turned and waved his hand, the other responding + with gayety which was not assumed: Vilas might be insane, or drunk, or + both, but the signature upon his cheque was unassailable. + </p> + <p> + Corliss closed the door and began to pace his apartment thoughtfully. His + expression manifested a peculiar phenomenon. In company, or upon the + street, or when he talked with men, the open look and frank eyes of this + stalwart young man were disarming and his most winning assets. But now, as + he paced alone in his apartment, now that he was not upon exhibition, now + when there was no eye to behold him, and there was no reason to + dissimulate or veil a single thought or feeling, his look was anything but + open; the last trace of frankness disappeared; the muscles at mouth and + eyes shifted; lines and planes intermingled and altered subtly; there was + a moment of misty transformation—and the face of another man + emerged. It was the face of a man uninstructed in mercy; it was a shrewd + and planning face: alert, resourceful, elaborately perceptive, and + flawlessly hard. But, beyond all, it was the face of a man perpetually on + guard. + </p> + <p> + He had the air of debating a question, his hands in his pockets, his + handsome forehead lined with a temporary indecision. His sentry-go + extended the length of his two rooms, and each time he came back into his + bedroom his glance fell consideringly upon a steamer-trunk of the largest + size, at the foot of his bed. The trunk was partially packed as if for + departure. And, indeed, it was the question of departure which he was + debating. + </p> + <p> + He was a man of varied dexterities, and he had one faculty of high value, + which had often saved him, had never betrayed him; it was intuitive and + equal to a sixth sense: he always knew when it was time to go. An inner + voice warned him; he trusted to it and obeyed it. And it had spoken now, + and there was his trunk half-packed in answer. But he had stopped midway + in his packing, because he had never yet failed to make a clean sweep + where there was the slightest chance for one; he hated to leave a big job + before it was completely finished—and Mr. Wade Trumble had refused + to invest in the oil-fields of Basilicata. + </p> + <p> + Corliss paused beside the trunk, stood a moment immersed in thought; then + nodded once, decisively, and, turning to a dressing-table, began to place + some silver-mounted brushes and bottles in a leather travelling-case. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the outer door. He frowned, set down what he had in + his hands, went to the door and opened it to find Mr. Pryor, that plain + citizen, awaiting entrance. + </p> + <p> + Corliss remained motionless in an arrested attitude, his hand upon the + knob of the opened door. His position did not alter; he became almost + unnaturally still, a rigidity which seemed to increase. Then he looked + quickly behind him, over his shoulder, and back again, with a swift + movement of the head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Pryor, at that. “I don’t want you. I + just thought I’d have two minutes’ talk with you. All right?” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Corliss quietly. “Come in.” He + turned carelessly, and walked away from the door keeping between his guest + and the desk. When he reached the desk, he turned again and leaned against + it, his back to it, but in the action of turning his hand had swept a + sheet of note-paper over Ray Vilas’s cheque—a too conspicuous + oblong of pale blue. Pryor had come in and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he began, regarding the other through + his glasses, with steady eyes, “that I’m going to interfere + with you at all, Corliss. I just happened to strike you—I wasn’t + looking for you. I’m on vacation, visiting my married daughter that + lives here, and I don’t want to mix in if I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + Corliss laughed, easily. “There’s nothing for you to mix in. + You couldn’t if you wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope that’s true,” said Pryor, with an air of + indulgence, curiously like that of a teacher for a pupil who promises + improvement. “I do indeed. There isn’t anybody I’d like + to see turn straight more than you. You’re educated and cultured, + and refined, and smarter than all hell. It would be a big thing. That’s + one reason I’m taking the trouble to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I wasn’t doing anything,” said Corliss with + a petulance as oddly like that of a pupil as the other’s indulgence + was like that of a tutor. “This is my own town; I own property here, + and I came here to sell it. I can prove it in half-a-minute’s + telephoning. Where do you come in?” + </p> + <p> + “Easy, easy,” said Pryor, soothingly. “I’ve just + told you I don’t want to come in at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I came to tell you just one thing: to go easy up there at Mr. + Madison’s house.” + </p> + <p> + Corliss laughed contemptuously. “It’s <i>my</i> house. I own + it. That’s the property I came here to sell.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know,” responded Pryor. “That part of it’s + all right. But I’ve seen you several times with that young lady, and + you looked pretty thick, to me. You know you haven’t got any + business doing such things, Corliss. I know your record from Buda Pesth to + Copenhagen and——” + </p> + <p> + “See here, my friend,” said the younger man, angrily, “you + may be a tiptop spotter for the government when it comes to running down + some poor old lady that’s bought a string of pearls in the Rue de la + Paix——” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been in the service twenty-eight years,” remarked + Pryor, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the other with a gesture of impatience; + “and you got me once, all right. Well, that’s over, isn’t + it? Have I tried anything since?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in that line,” said Pryor. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what business have you with any other line?” demanded + Corliss angrily. “Who made you general supervisor of public morals? + I want to know——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, what’s the use your getting excited? I’m just here + to tell you that I’m going to keep an eye on you. I don’t know + many people here, and I haven’t taken any particular pains to look + you up. For all I know, you’re only here to sell your house, as you + say. But I know old man Madison a little, and I kind of took a fancy to + him; he’s a mighty nice old man, and he’s got a nice family. + He’s sick and it won’t do to trouble him; but—honest, + Corliss—if you don’t slack off in that neighbourhood a little, + I’ll have to have a talk with the young lady herself.” + </p> + <p> + A derisory light showed faintly in the younger man’s eyes as he + inquired, softly: “That all, Mr. Pryor?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Don’t try anything on out here. Not in <i>any</i> of your + lines.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mean to.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right. Sell your house and clear out. You’ll + find it healthy.” He went to the door. “So far as I can see,” + he observed, ruminatively, “you haven’t brought any of that + Moliterno crowd you used to work with over to this side with you.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t seen Moliterno for two years,” said Corliss, + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ve said my say.” Pryor gave him a last word as + he went out. “You keep away from that little girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Ass!” exclaimed Corliss, as the door closed. He exhaled a + deep breath sharply, and broke into a laugh. Then he went quickly into his + bedroom and began to throw the things out of his trunk. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOURTEEN + </h2> + <p> + Hedrick Madison’s eyes were not of marble; his heart was not flint + nor his skin steel plate: he was flesh and tender; he was a vulnerable, + breathing boy, with highly developed capacities for pain which were now + being taxed to their utmost. Once he had loved to run, to leap, to disport + himself in the sun, to drink deep of the free air; he had loved life and + one or two of his fellowmen. He had borne himself buoyantly, with jaunty + self-confidence, even with some intolerance toward the weaknesses of + others, not infrequently displaying merriment over their mischances; but + his time had found him at last; the evil day had come. Indian Summer was + Indian for him, indeed: sweet death were welcome; no charity was left in + him. He leaped no more, but walked broodingly and sought the dark places. + And yet it could not be said that times were dull for him: the luckless + picket who finds himself in an open eighty-acre field, under the eye of a + sharpshooter up a tree, would not be apt to describe the experience as + dull. And Cora never missed a shot; she loved the work; her pleasure in it + was almost as agonizing for the target as was the accuracy of her fire. + </p> + <p> + She was ingenious: the horrible facts at her disposal were damaging enough + in all conscience: but they did not content her. She invented a + love-story, assuming that Hedrick was living it: he was supposed to be + pining for Lolita, to be fading, day-by-day, because of enforced + separation; and she contrived this to such an effect of reality, and with + such a diabolical affectation of delicacy in referring to it, that the + mere remark, with gentle sympathy, “I think poor Hedrick is looking + a little better to-day,” infallibly produced something closely + resembling a spasm. She formed the habit of never mentioning her brother + in his presence except as “poor Hedrick,” a too obvious + commiseration of his pretended attachment—which met with like + success. Most dreadful of all, she invented romantic phrases and + expressions assumed to have been spoken or written by Hedrick in reference + to his unhappiness; and she repeated them so persistently, yet always with + such apparent sincerity of belief that they were quotations from him, and + not her inventions, that the driven youth knew a fear, sometimes, that the + horrid things were actually of his own perpetration. + </p> + <p> + The most withering of these was, “Torn from her I love by the + ruthless hand of a parent. . . .” It was not completed; Cora never + got any further with it, nor was there need: a howl of fury invariably + assured her of an effect as satisfactory as could possibly have been + obtained by an effort less impressionistic. Life became a series of easy + victories for Cora, and she made them somehow the more deadly for Hedrick + by not seeming to look at him in his affliction, nor even to be aiming his + way: he never could tell when the next shot was coming. At the table, the + ladies of his family might be deep in dress, or discussing Mr. Madison’s + slowly improving condition, when Cora, with utter irrelevance, would sigh, + and, looking sadly into her coffee, murmur, “Ah, <i>fond</i> mem’ries!” + or, “<i>Why</i> am I haunted by the dead past?” or, the + dreadful, “Torn from her I love by the ruthless hand of a parent. . + . .” + </p> + <p> + There was compassion in Laura’s eyes and in his mother’s, but + Cora was irresistible, and they always ended by laughing in spite of + themselves; and though they pleaded for Hedrick in private, their + remonstrances proved strikingly ineffective. Hedrick was the only person + who had ever used the high hand with Cora: she found repayment too + congenial. In the daytime he could not go in the front yard, but Cora’s + window would open and a tenderly smiling Cora lean out to call + affectionately, “Don’t walk on the grass—darling little + boy!” Or, she would nod happily to him and begin to sing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh come beloved, love let me press thee, + While I caress thee + In one long kiss, Lolita. . . . ” + </pre> + <p> + One terror still hung over him. If it fell—as it might at any fatal + moment—then the utmost were indeed done upon him; and this + apprehension bathed his soul in night. In his own circle of congenial age + and sex he was, by virtue of superior bitterness and precocity of speech, + a chief—a moral castigator, a satirist of manners, a creator of + stinging nicknames; and many nourished unhealed grievances which they had + little hope of satisfying against him; those who attempted it invariably + departing with more to avenge than they had brought with them. Let these + once know what Cora knew. . . . The vision was unthinkable! + </p> + <p> + It was Cora’s patent desire to release the hideous item, to spread + the scandal broadcast among his fellows—to ring it from the + school-bells, to send it winging on the hot winds of Hades! The boys had + always liked his yard and the empty stable to play in, and the devices he + now employed to divert their activities elsewhere were worthy of a great + strategist. His energy and an abnormal ingenuity accomplished incredible + things: school had been in session several weeks and only one boy had come + within conversational distance of Cora;—him Hedrick bore away + bodily, in simulation of resistless high spirits, a brilliant exhibition + of stagecraft. + </p> + <p> + And then Cora’s friend, Mrs. Villard, removed her son Egerton from + the private school he had hitherto attended, and he made his appearance in + Hedrick’s class, one morning at the public school. Hedrick’s + eye lighted with a savage gleam; timidly the first joy he had known for a + thousand years crept into his grim heart. After school, Egerton expiated a + part of Cora’s cruelty. It was a very small part, and the exploit no + more than infinitesimally soothing to the conqueror, but when Egerton + finally got home he was no sight for a mother. + </p> + <p> + Thus Hedrick wrought his own doom: Mrs. Villard telephoned to Cora, and + Cora went immediately to see her. + </p> + <p> + It happened to Hedrick that he was late leaving home the next morning. His + entrance into his classroom was an undeniable sensation, and within ten + minutes the teacher had lost all control of the school. It became + necessary to send for the principal. Recess was a frantic nightmare for + Hedrick, and his homeward progress at noon a procession of such uproarious + screamers as were his equals in speed. The nethermost depths were reached + when an ignoble pigtailed person he had always trodden upon flat-footed + screamed across the fence from next door, as he reached fancied sanctuary + in his own backyard: + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me some <i>more</i>, darling little boy!” + </p> + <p> + This worm, established upon the fence opposite the conservatory windows, + and in direct view from the table in the dining-room, shrieked the + accursed request at short intervals throughout the luncheon hour. The + humour of childhood is sometimes almost intrusive. + </p> + <p> + And now began a life for Hedrick which may be rather painfully but + truthfully likened to a prolongation of the experiences of a rat that + finds itself in the middle of a crowded street in daylight: there is + plenty of excitement but no pleasure. He was pursued, harried, hounded + from early morning till nightfall, and even in his bed would hear shrill + shouts go down the sidewalk from the throats of juvenile fly-by-nights: + “Oh dar-ling lit-oh darling lit-oh <i>lit</i>-le boy, <i>lit</i>-le + boy, kiss me some <i>more</i>!” And one day he overheard a remark + which strengthened his growing conviction that the cataclysm had affected + the whole United States: it was a teacher who spoke, explaining to another + a disturbance in the hall of the school. She said, behind her hand: + </p> + <p> + “<i>He kissed an idiot</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Laura had not even remotely foreseen the consequences of her revelation, + nor, indeed, did she now properly estimate their effect upon Hedrick. She + and her mother were both sorry for him, and did what they could to + alleviate his misfortunes, but there was an inevitable remnant of + amusement in their sympathy. Youth, at war, affects stoicism but not + resignation: in truth, resignation was not much in Hedrick’s line, + and it would be far from the fact to say that he was softened by his + sufferings. He brooded profoundly and his brightest thought was revenge. + It was not upon Cora that his chief bitterness turned. Cora had always + been the constant, open enemy: warfare between them was a regular + condition of life; and unconsciously, and without “thinking it out,” + he recognized the naturalness of her seizing upon the deadliest weapon + against him that came to her hand. There was nothing unexpected in that: + no, the treachery, to his mind, lay in the act of Laura, that + non-combatant, who had furnished the natural and habitual enemy with this + scourge. At all times, and with or without cause, he ever stood ready to + do anything possible for the reduction of Cora’s cockiness, but now + it was for the taking-down of Laura and the repayment of her uncalled-for + and overwhelming assistance to the opposite camp that he lay awake nights + and kept his imagination hot. Laura was a serene person, so neutral—outwardly, + at least—and so little concerned for herself in any matter he could + bring to mind, that for purposes of revenge she was a difficult + proposition. And then, in a desperate hour, he remembered her book. + </p> + <p> + Only once had he glimpsed it, but she had shown unmistakable agitation of + a mysterious sort as she wrote in it, and, upon observing his presence, a + prompt determination to prevent his reading a word of what she had + written. Therefore, it was something peculiarly sacred and intimate. This + deduction was proved by the care she exercised in keeping the book + concealed from all eyes. A slow satisfaction began to permeate him: he + made up his mind to find that padlocked ledger. + </p> + <p> + He determined with devoted ardour that when he found it he would make the + worst possible use of it: the worst, that is, for Laura. As for + consequences to himself, he was beyond them. There is an Irish play in + which an old woman finds that she no longer fears the sea when it has + drowned the last of her sons; it can do nothing more to her. Hedrick no + longer feared anything. + </p> + <p> + The book was somewhere in Laura’s room, he knew that; and there were + enough opportunities to search, though Laura had a way of coming in + unexpectedly which was embarrassing; and he suffered from a sense of + inadequacy when—on the occasion of his first new attempt—he + answered the casual inquiry as to his presence by saying that he “had + a headache.” He felt there was something indirect in the reply; but + Laura was unsuspicious and showed no disposition to be analytical. After + this, he took the precaution to bring a school-book with him and she often + found the boy seated quietly by her west window immersed in study: he said + he thought his headaches came from his eyes and that the west light + “sort of eased them a little.” + </p> + <p> + The ledger remained undiscovered, although probably there has never been a + room more thoroughly and painstakingly searched, without its floor being + taken up and its walls torn down. The most mysterious, and, at the same + time, the most maddening thing about it was the apparent simplicity of the + task. He was certain that the room contained the book: listening, + barefooted, outside the door at night, he had heard the pen scratching. + The room was as plain as a room can be, and small. There was a scantily + filled clothes-press; he had explored every cubic inch of it. There was + the small writing table with one drawer; it held only some note-paper and + a box of pen-points. There was a bureau; to his certain knowledge it + contained no secret whatever. There were a few giltless chairs, and a + white “wash-stand,” a mere basin and slab with exposed + plumbing. Lastly, there was the bed, a very large and ugly “Eastlake” + contrivance; he had acquired a close acquaintance with all of it except + the interior of the huge mattress itself, and here, he finally concluded, + must of necessity be the solution. The surface of the mattress he knew to + be unbroken; nevertheless the book was there. He had recently stimulated + his deductive powers with a narrative of French journalistic sagacity in a + similar case; and he applied French reasoning. The ledger existed. It was + somewhere in the room. He had searched everything except the interior of + the mattress. The ledger was in that interior. + </p> + <p> + The exploration thus become necessary presented some difficulties. + Detection in the act would involve explanations hard to invent; it would + not do to say he was looking for his knife; and he could not think of any + excuse altogether free from a flavour of insincerity. A lameness beset + them all and made them liable to suspicion; and Laura, once suspicious, + might be petty enough to destroy the book, and so put it out of his power + forever. He must await the right opportunity, and, after a racking + exercise of patience, at last he saw it coming. + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sloane had permitted his patient to come down stairs for an + increasing interval each day. Mr. Madison crept, rather than walked, + leaning upon his wife and closely attended by Miss Peirce. He spoke with + difficulty and not clearly; still, there was a perceptible improvement, + and his family were falling into the habit of speaking of him as almost + well. On that account, Mrs. Madison urged her daughters to accept an + invitation from the mother of the once courtly Egerton Villard. It was at + breakfast that the matter was discussed. + </p> + <p> + “Of course Cora must go,” Laura began, “but——” + </p> + <p> + “But nothing!” interrupted Cora. “How would it look if I + went and you didn’t? Everybody knows papa’s almost well, and + they’d think it silly for us to give up the first real dance since + last spring on that account; yet they’re just spiteful enough, if I + went and you stayed home, to call me a `girl of no heart.’ Besides,” + she added sweetly, “we ought to go to show Mrs. Villard we aren’t + hurt because Egerton takes so little notice of poor Hedrick.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick’s lips moved silently, as in prayer. + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather not,” said Laura. “I doubt if I’d + have a very good time.” + </p> + <p> + “You would, too,” returned her sister, decidedly. “The + men like to dance with you; you dance every bit as well as I do, and that + black lace is the most becoming dress you ever had. Nobody ever remembers + a black dress, anyway, unless it’s cut very conspicuously, and yours + isn’t. I can’t go without you; they love to say nasty things + about me, and you’re too good a sister to give 'em this chance, you + old dear.” She laughed and nodded affectionately across the table at + Laura. “You’ve got to go!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it would be nicer,” said the mother. And so it was + settled. It was simultaneously settled in Hedrick’s mind that the + night of the dance should mark his discovery of the ledger. He would have + some industrious hours alone with the mysterious mattress, safe from + intrusion. + </p> + <p> + Meekly he lifted his eyes from his plate. “I’m glad you’re + going, sister Laura,” he said in a gentle voice. “I think a + change will do you good.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it wonderful,” exclaimed Cora, appealing to the + others to observe him, “what an improvement a disappointment in love + can make in deportment?” + </p> + <p> + For once, Hedrick only smiled. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN + </h2> + <p> + Laura had spent some thoughtful hours upon her black lace dress with + results that astonished her family: it became a ball-gown—and a + splendidly effective one. She arranged her dark hair in a more elaborate + fashion than ever before, in a close coronal of faintly lustrous braids; + she had no jewellery and obviously needed none. Her last action but one + before she left her room was to dispose of the slender chain and key she + always wore round her neck; then her final glance at the mirror—which + fairly revealed a lovely woman—ended in a deprecatory little “face” + she made at herself. It meant: “Yes, old lady, you fancy yourself + very passable in here all by yourself, don’t you? Just wait: you’ll + be standing beside Cora in a moment!” + </p> + <p> + And when she did stand beside Cora, in the latter’s room, a moment + later, her thought seemed warranted. Cora, radiant-eyed, in high bloom, + and exquisite from head to foot in a shimmering white dancing-dress, a + glittering crescent fastening the silver fillet that bound her vivid hair, + was a flame of enchantment. Mrs. Madison, almost weeping with delight, led + her daughters proudly, an arm round the waist of each, into her husband’s + room. Propped with pillows, he reclined in an armchair while Miss Peirce + prepared his bed, an occupation she gave over upon this dazzling entrance, + departing tactfully. + </p> + <p> + “Look at these,” cried the mother; “—from our + garden, Jim, dear! Don’t we feel rich, you and I?” + </p> + <p> + “And—and—Laura,” said the sick man, with the slow + and imperfect enunication caused by his disease; “Laura looks pretty—too.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t she adorable!” Cora exclaimed warmly. “She + decided to be the portrait of a young duchess, you see, all stately + splendour—made of snow and midnight!” + </p> + <p> + “Hear! hear!” laughed Laura; but she blushed with pleasure, + and taking Cora’s hand in hers lifted it to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “And do you see Cora’s crescent?” demanded Mrs. Madison. + “What do you think of <i>that</i> for magnificence? She went down + town this morning with seven dollars, and came back with that and her + party gloves and a dollar in change! Isn’t she a bargainer? Even for + rhinestones they are the cheapest things you ever heard of. They look + precisely like stones of the very finest water.” They did—so + precisely, indeed, that if the resemblance did not amount to actual + identity, then had a jeweller of the town been able to deceive the eye of + Valentine Corliss, which was an eye singularly learned in such matters. + </p> + <p> + “They’re—both smart girls,” said Madison, “both + of them. And they look—beautiful, to-night—both. Laura is—amazing!” + </p> + <p> + When they had gone, Mrs. Madison returned from the stairway, and, kneeling + beside her husband, put her arms round him gently: she had seen the tear + that was marking its irregular pathway down his flaccid, gray cheek, and + she understood. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t. Don’t worry, Jim,” she whispered. “Those + bright, beautiful things!—aren’t they treasures?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s—it’s Laura,” he said. “Cora will + be all right. She looks out for—herself. I’m—I’m + afraid for—Laura. Aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she protested. “I’m not afraid for + either of them.” But she was: the mother had always been afraid for + Cora. + </p> + <p> + . . . . At the dance, the two girls, attended up the stairway to the + ballroom by a chattering covey of black-coats, made a sensational entrance + to a gallant fanfare of music, an effect which may have been timed to the + premonitory tuning of instruments heard during the ascent; at all events, + it was a great success; and Cora, standing revealed under the wide gilt + archway, might have been a lithe and shining figure from the year + eighteen-hundred-and-one, about to dance at the Luxembourg. She placed her + hand upon the sleeve of Richard Lindley, and, glancing intelligently over + his shoulder into the eyes of Valentine Corliss, glided rhythmically away. + </p> + <p> + People looked at her; they always did. Not only the non-dancers watched + her; eyes everywhere were upon her, even though the owners gyrated, glided + and dipped on distant orbits. The other girls watched her, as a rule, with + a profound, an almost passionate curiosity; and they were prompt to speak + well of her to men, except in trustworthy intimacy, because they did not + enjoy being wrongfully thought jealous. Many of them kept somewhat aloof + from her; but none of them ever nowadays showed “superiority” + in her presence, or snubbed her: that had been tried and proved disastrous + in rebound. Cora never failed to pay her score—and with a terrifying + interest added, her native tendency being to take two eyes for an eye and + the whole jaw for a tooth. They let her alone, though they asked and asked + among themselves the never-monotonous question: “Why do men fall in + love with girls like that?” a riddle which, solved, makes wives + condescending to their husbands. + </p> + <p> + Most of the people at this dance had known one another as friends, or + antagonists, or indifferent acquaintances, for years, and in such an + assembly there are always two worlds, that of the women and that of the + men. Each has its own vision, radically different from that of the other; + but the greatest difference is that the men are unaware of the other + world, only a few of them—usually queer ones like Ray Vilas—vaguely + perceiving that there are two visions, while all the women understand both + perfectly. The men splash about on the surface; the women keep their eyes + open under water. Or, the life of the assembly is like a bright tapestry: + the men take it as a picture and are not troubled to know how it is + produced; but women are weavers. There was a Beauty of far-flung renown at + Mrs. Villard’s to-night: Mary Kane, a creature so made and coloured + that young men at sight of her became as water and older men were apt to + wonder regretfully why all women could not have been made like Mary. She + was a kindly soul, and never intentionally outshone her sisters; but the + perfect sumptuousness of her had sometimes tried the amiability of Cora + Madison, to whom such success without effort and without spark seemed + unfair, as well as bovine. Miss Kane was a central figure at the dance, + shining tranquilly in a new triumph: that day her engagement had been + announced to Mr. George Wattling, a young man of no special attainments, + but desirable in his possessions and suitable to his happiness. The pair + radiated the pardonable, gay importance of newly engaged people, and Cora, + who had never before bestowed any notice upon Mr. Wattling, now examined + him with thoughtful attention. + </p> + <p> + Finding him at her elbow in a group about a punch bowl, between dances, + she offered warm felicitations. “But I don’t suppose you care + whether <i>I</i> care for you to be happy or not,” she added, with a + little plaintive laugh;—“you’ve always hated me so!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wattling was startled: never before had he imagined that Cora Madison + had given him a thought; but there was not only thought, there was + feeling, in this speech. She seemed to be concealing with bravery an even + deeper feeling than the one inadvertently expressed. “Why, what on + earth makes you think that?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Think it? I <i>know</i> it!” She gave him a strange look, + luminous yet mysterious, a curtain withdrawn only to show a shining mist + with something undefined but dazzling beyond. “I’ve always + known it!” And she turned away from him abruptly. + </p> + <p> + He sprang after her. “But you’re wrong. I’ve never——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you have.” They began to discuss it, and for better + consideration of the theme it became necessary for Cora to “cut” + the next dance, promised to another, and to give it to Mr. Wattling. They + danced several times together, and Mr. Wattling’s expression was + serious. The weavers of the tapestry smiled and whispered things the men + would not have understood—nor believed. + </p> + <p> + Ray Vilas, seated alone in a recessed and softly lighted gallery, did not + once lose sight of the flitting sorceress. With his elbows on the railing, + he leaned out, his head swaying slowly and mechanically as she swept up + and down the tumultuously moving room, his passionate eyes gaunt and + brilliant with his hunger. And something very like a general thrill passed + over the assembly when, a little later, it was seen that he was dancing + with her. Laura, catching a glimpse of this couple, started and looked + profoundly disturbed. + </p> + <p> + The extravagance of Vilas’s passion and the depths he sounded, in + his absurd despair when discarded, had been matters of almost public + gossip; he was accounted a somewhat scandalous and unbalanced but + picturesque figure; and for the lady whose light hand had wrought such + havoc upon him to be seen dancing with him was sufficiently startling to + elicit the universal remark—evidently considered superlative—that + it was “just like Cora Madison!” Cora usually perceived, with + an admirably clear head, all that went on about her; and she was conscious + of increasing the sensation, when after a few turns round the room, she + allowed her partner to conduct her to a secluding grove of palms in the + gallery. She sank into the chair he offered, and, fixing her eyes upon a + small lamp of coloured glass which hung overhead, ostentatiously looked + bored. + </p> + <p> + “At your feet, Cora,” he said, seating himself upon a stool, + and leaning toward her. “Isn’t it appropriate that we should + talk to music—we two? It shouldn’t be that quick step though—not + dance-music—should it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t know ‘m sure,” murmured Cora. + </p> + <p> + “You were kind to dance with me,” he said huskily. “I + dared to speak to you——” + </p> + <p> + She did not change her attitude nor the direction of her glance. “I + couldn’t cut you very well with the whole town looking on. I’m + tired of being talked about. Besides, I don’t care much who I dance + with—so he doesn’t step on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he said, “it is the prelude to `L’Arlesienne’ + that they should play for you and me. Yes, I think it should be that.” + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s just a rustic tragedy, the story of a boy in the south + of France who lets love become his whole life, and then—it kills + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sounds very stupid,” she commented languidly. + </p> + <p> + “People do sometimes die of love, even nowadays,” he said, + tremulously—“in the South.” + </p> + <p> + She let her eyes drift indifferently to him and perceived that he was + trembling from head to foot; that his hands and knees shook piteously; + that his lips quivered and twitched; and, at sight of this agitation, an + expression of strong distaste came to her face. + </p> + <p> + “I see.” Her eyes returned to the lamp. “You’re + from the South, and of course it’s going to kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t speak the exact words you had in your mind.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what words did I have `in my mind’?” she asked + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “What you really meant was: `If it does kill you, what of it?’” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, and sighed as for release. + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he said huskily, “I understand you a little + because you possess me. I’ve never—literally never—had + another thought since the first time I saw you: nothing but you. I think + of you—actually every moment. Drunk or sober, asleep or—awake, + it’s nothing but you, you, <i>you</i>! It will never be different: I + don’t know why I can’t get over it—I only know I can’t. + You own me; you burn like a hot coal in my heart. You’re through + with me, I know. You drained me dry. You’re like a child who eats so + heartily of what he likes that he never touches it again. And I’m a + dish you’re sick of. Oh, it’s all plain enough, I can tell + you. I’m not exciting any more—no, just a nauseous slave!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want people to hear you?” she inquired angrily, for + his voice had risen. + </p> + <p> + He tempered his tone. “Cora, when you liked me you went a pretty + clipping gait with me,” he said, trembling even more than before. + “But you’re infinitely more infatuated with this Toreador of a + Corliss than you were with me; you’re lost in him; you’re + slaving for him as I would for you. How far are you going with——” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to walk away and leave you?” she asked, + suddenly sitting up straight and looking at him with dilating eyes. + “If you want a `scene’——” + </p> + <p> + “It’s over,” he said, more calmly. “I know now how + dangerous the man is. Of course you will tell him I said that.” He + laughed quietly. “Well—between a dangerous chap and a + desperate one, we may look for some lively times! Do you know, I believe I + think about as continuously of him, lately, as I do of you. That’s + why I put almost my last cent into his oil company, and got what may be + almost my last dance with you!” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t call it `almost’ your last dance with me!” + she returned icily. “Not after what you’ve said. I had a + foolish idea you could behave—well, at least decently.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Corliss tell you that I insulted him in his rooms at the hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” She laughed, genuinely. “I see him letting you!” + </p> + <p> + “He did, however. By manner and in speech I purposely and + deliberately insulted him. You’ll tell him every word of this, of + course, and he’ll laugh at it, but I give myself the pleasure of + telling you. I put the proposition of an `investment’ to him in a + way nobody not a crook would have allowed to be smoothed over—and he + allowed it to be smoothed over. He ate it! I felt he was a swindler when + he was showing Richard Lindley his maps and papers, and now I’ve + proved it to myself, and it’s worth the price.” Often, when + they had danced, and often during this interview, his eyes lifted + curiously to the white flaming crescent in her hair; now they fixed + themselves upon it, and in a flash of divination he cried: “You wear + it for me!” + </p> + <p> + She did not understand. “Finished raving?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I gave Corliss a thousand dollars,” he said, slowly. “Considering + the fact that it was my last, I flatter myself it was not unhandsomely + done—though I may never need it. It has struck me that the sum was + about what a man who had just cleaned up fifty thousand might regard as a + sort of `extra’—`for lagniappe’—and that he might + have thought it an appropriate amount to invest in a present some jewels + perhaps—to place in the hair of a pretty friend!” + </p> + <p> + She sprang to her feet, furious, but he stood in front of her and was able + to bar the way for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Cora, I’ll have a last word with you if I have to hold you,” + he said with great rapidity and in a voice which shook with the intense + repression he was putting upon himself. “We do one thing in the + South, where I came from. We protect our women——” + </p> + <p> + “This looks like it! Keeping me when——” + </p> + <p> + “I love you,” he said, his face whiter than she had ever seen + it. “I love you! I’m your dog! You take care of yourself if + you want to take care of anybody else! As sure as——” + </p> + <p> + “My dance, Miss Madison.” A young gentleman on vacation from + the navy had approached, and, with perfect unconsciousness of what he was + interrupting, but with well-founded certainty that he was welcome to the + lady, urged his claim in a confident voice. “I thought it would + never come, you know; but it’s here at last and so am I.” He + laughed propitiatingly. + </p> + <p> + Ray yielded now at once. She moved him aside with her gloved forearm as if + he were merely an awkward stranger who unwittingly stood between her and + the claiming partner. Carrying the gesture farther, she took the latter’s + arm, and smilingly, and without a backward glance, passed onward and left + the gallery. The lieutenant, who had met her once or twice before, was her + partner for the succeeding dance as well, and, having noted the advantages + of the place where he had discovered her, persuaded her to return there to + sit through the second. Then without any fatiguing preamble, he proposed + marriage. Cora did not accept, but effected a compromise, which, for the + present, was to consist of an exchange of photographs (his to be in + uniform) and letters. + </p> + <p> + She was having an evening to her heart. Ray’s attack on Corliss had + no dimming effect; her thought of it being that she was “used to his + raving”; it meant nothing; and since Ray had prophesied she would + tell Corliss about it, she decided not to do so. + </p> + <p> + The naval young gentleman and Valentine Corliss were the greatest of all + the lions among ladies that night; she had easily annexed the lieutenant, + and Corliss was hers already; though, for a purpose, she had not yet been + seen in company with him. He was visibly “making an impression.” + His name, as he had said to Richard Lindley, was held in honour in the + town; and there was a flavour of fancied romance in his absence since + boyhood in unknown parts, and his return now with a `foreign air’ + and a bow that almost took the breath of some of the younger recipients. + He was, too, in his way, the handsomest man in the room; and the smiling, + open frankness of his look, the ready cordiality of his manner, were found + very winning. He caused plenty of flutter. + </p> + <p> + Cora waited till the evening was half over before she gave him any visible + attention. Then, during a silence of the music, between two dances, she + made him a negligent sign with her hand, the gesture of one indifferently + beckoning a creature who is certain to come, and went on talking casually + to the man who was with her. Corliss was the length of the room from her, + chatting gayly with a large group of girls and women; but he immediately + nodded to her, made his bow to individuals of the group, and crossed the + vacant, glistening floor to her. Cora gave him no greeting whatever; she + dismissed her former partner and carelessly turned away with Corliss to + some chairs in a corner. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that?” asked Vilas, leaning over the balcony + railing with Richard Lindley. “Look! She’s showing the other + girls—don’t you see? He’s the New Man; she let ’em + hope she wasn’t going in for him; a lot of them probably didn’t + even know that she knew him. She sent him out on parade till they’re + all excited about him; now she shows ’em he’s entirely her + property—and does it so matter-of-factly that it’s rubbed in + twice as hard as if she seemed to take some pains about it. He doesn’t + dance: she’ll sit out with him now, till they all read the tag she’s + put on him. She says she hates being talked about. She lives on it!—so + long as it’s envious. And did you see her with that chap from the + navy? Neptune thinks he’s dallying with Venus perhaps, but he’ll + get——” + </p> + <p> + Lindley looked at him commiseratingly. “I think I never saw prettier + decorations. Have you noticed, Ray? Must have used a thousand + chrysanthemums.” + </p> + <p> + “Toreador!” whispered the other between his teeth, looking at + Corliss; then, turning to his companion, he asked: “Has it occurred + to you to get any information about Basilicata, or about the ancestral + domain of the Moliterni, from our consul-general at Naples?” + </p> + <p> + Richard hesitated. “Well—yes. Yes, I did think of that. Yes, I + thought of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you didn’t do it.” + </p> + <p> + “No. That is, I haven’t yet. You see, Corliss explained to me + that——” + </p> + <p> + His friend interrupted him with a sour laugh. “Oh, certainly! He’s + one of the greatest explainers ever welcomed to our city!” + </p> + <p> + Richard said mildly: “And then, Ray, once I’ve gone into a + thing I—I don’t like to seem suspicious.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old Dick!” returned Vilas compassionately. “You + kind, easy, sincere men are so conscientiously untruthful with yourselves. + You know in your heart that Cora would be furious with you if you seemed + suspicious, and she’s been so nice to you since you put in your + savings to please her, that you can’t bear to risk offending her. + She’s twisted you around her little finger, and the unnamed fear + that haunts you is that you won’t be allowed to stay there—even + twisted!” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty decorations, Ray,” said Richard; but he grew very red. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what you’ll do,” asked Ray, regarding him + keenly, “if this Don Giovanni from Sunny It’ is shown up as a + plain get-rich-quick swindler?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t considered——” + </p> + <p> + “You would do precisely,” said Ray, “nothing! Cora’d + see to that. You’d sigh and go to work again, beginning at the + beginning where you were years ago, and doing it all over. Admirable + resignation, but not for me! I’m a stockholder in his company and in + shape to `take steps’! I don’t know if I’d be patient + enough to make them legal—perhaps I should. He may be safe on the + legal side. I’ll know more about that when I find out if there is a + Prince Moliterno in Naples who owns land in Basilicata.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t doubt it?” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt everything! In this particular matter I’ll have less + to doubt when I get an answer from the consul-general. <i>I</i>’ve + written, you see.” + </p> + <p> + Lindley looked disturbed. “You have?” + </p> + <p> + Vilas read him at a glance. “You’re afraid to find out!” + he cried. Then he set his hand on the other’s shoulder. “If + there ever was a God’s fool, it’s you, Dick Lindley. Really, I + wonder the world hasn’t kicked you around more than it has; you’d + never kick back! You’re as easy as an old shoe. Cora makes you + unhappy,” he went on, and with the very mention of her name, his + voice shook with passion,—“but on my soul I don’t + believe you know what jealousy means: you don’t even understand + hate; you don’t eat your heart——” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go and eat something better,” suggested Richard, + laughing. “There’s a continuous supper downstairs and I hear + it’s very good.” + </p> + <p> + Ray smiled, rescued for a second from himself. “There isn’t + anything better than your heart, you old window-pane, and I’m glad + you don’t eat it. And if I ever mix it up with Don Giovanni T. + Corliss—`T’ stands for Toreador—I do believe it’ll + be partly on your——” He paused, leaving the sentence + unfinished, as his attention was caught by the abysmal attitude of a + figure in another part of the gallery: Mr. Wade Trumble, alone in a + corner, sitting upon the small of his small back, munching at an unlighted + cigar and otherwise manifesting a biting gloom. Ray drew Lindley’s + attention to this tableau of pain. “Here’s a three of us!” + he said. He turned to look down into the rhythmic kaleidoscope of dancers. + “And there goes the girl we all <i>ought</i> to be morbid about.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Laura Madison. Why aren’t we? What a self-respecting creature + she is, with that cool, sweet steadiness of hers—she’s like a + mountain lake. She’s lovely and she plays like an angel, but so far + as anybody’s ever thinking about her is concerned she might almost + as well not exist. Yet she’s really beautiful to-night, if you can + manage to think of her except as a sort of retinue for Cora.” + </p> + <p> + “She <i>is</i> rather beautiful to-night. Laura’s always a + very nice-looking girl,” said Richard, and with the advent of an + idea, he added: “I think one reason she isn’t more conspicuous + and thought about is that she is so quiet,” and, upon his companion’s + greeting this inspiration with a burst of laughter, “Yes, that was a + brilliant deduction,” he said; “but I do think she’s + about the quietest person I ever knew. I’ve noticed there are times + when she’ll scarcely speak at all for half an hour, or even more.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re not precisely noisy yourself,” said Ray. “Have + you danced with her this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” returned the other, in a tone which showed this + omission to be a discovery; “not yet. I must, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she’s really `rather’ beautiful. Also, she dances + `rather’ better than any other girl in town. Go and perform your + painful duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I’d better,” said Richard thoughtfully, not + perceiving the satire. “At any rate, I’ll ask her for the + next.” + </p> + <p> + He found it unengaged. There came to Laura’s face an April change as + he approached, and she saw he meant to ask her to dance. And, as they swam + out into the maelstrom, he noticed it, and remarked that it <i>was</i> + rather warm, to which she replied by a cheerful nod. Presently there came + into Richard’s mind the thought that he was really an excellent + dancer; but he did not recall that he had always formed the same pleasing + estimate of himself when he danced with Laura, nor realize that other + young men enjoyed similar self-help when dancing with her. And yet he + repeated to her what Ray had said of her dancing, and when she laughed as + in appreciation of a thing intended humorously, he laughed, too, but + insisted that she did dance “very well indeed.” She laughed + again at that, and they danced on, not talking. He had no sense of “guiding” + her; there was no feeling of effort whatever; she seemed to move + spontaneously with his wish, not to his touch; indeed, he was not sensible + of touching her at all. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Laura,” he exclaimed suddenly, “you dance <i>beautifully</i>!” + </p> + <p> + She stumbled and almost fell; saved herself by clutching at his arm; he + caught her; and the pair stopped where they were, in the middle of the + floor. A flash of dazed incredulity from her dark eyes swept him; there + was something in it of the child dodging an unexpected blow. + </p> + <p> + “Did I trip you?” he asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she laughed, quickly, and her cheeks grew even redder. + “I tripped myself. Wasn’t that too bad—just when you + were thinking that I danced well! Let’s sit down. May we?” + </p> + <p> + They went to some chairs against a wall. There, as they sat, Cora swung by + them, dancing again with her lieutenant, and looking up trancedly into the + gallant eyes of the triumphant and intoxicated young man. Visibly, she was + a woman with a suitor’s embracing arm about her. Richard’s + eyes followed them. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don’t!” said Laura in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + He turned to her. “Don’t what?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t mean to speak out loud,” she said tremulously. + “But I meant: don’t look so troubled. It doesn’t mean + anything at all—her coquetting with that bird of passage. He’s + going away in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I was troubling about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whatever it was”—she paused, and laughed with a + plaintive timidity—“why, just don’t trouble about it!” + </p> + <p> + “Do I look very much troubled?” he asked seriously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And you don’t look very gay when you’re not!” + She laughed with more assurance now. “I think you’re always + the wistfulest looking man I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody laughs at me, I believe,” he said, with continued + seriousness. “Even Ray Vilas thinks I’m an utter fool. Am I, + do <i>you</i> think?” + </p> + <p> + He turned as he spoke and glanced inquiringly into her eyes. What he saw + surprised and dismayed him. + </p> + <p> + “For heaven’s sake, don’t cry!” he whispered + hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + She bent her head, turning her face from him. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been very hopeful lately,” he said. “Cora + has been so kind to me since I did what she wanted me to, that I——” + He gave a deep sigh. “But if you’re <i>that</i> sorry for me, + my chances with her must be pretty desperate.” + </p> + <p> + She did not alter her attitude, but with her down-bent face still away + from him, said huskily: “It isn’t you I’m sorry for. You + mustn’t ever give up; you must keep on trying and trying. If you + give up, I don’t know what will become of her!” + </p> + <p> + A moment later she rose suddenly to her feet. “Let’s finish + our dance,” she said, giving him her hand. “I’m sure I + won’t stumble again.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIXTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The two girls let themselves into the house noiselessly, and, turning out + the hall-light, left for them by their mother, crept upstairs on tiptoe; + and went through the upper hall directly to Laura’s room—Cora’s + being nearer the sick-room. At their age it is proper that a gayety be + used three times: in anticipation, and actually, and in after-rehearsal. + The last was of course now in order: they went to Laura’s room to + “talk it over.” There was no gas-fixture in this small + chamber; but they found Laura’s oil-lamp burning brightly upon her + writing-table. + </p> + <p> + “How queer!” said Laura with some surprise, as she closed the + door. “Mother never leaves the lamp lit for me; she’s always + so afraid of lamps exploding.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps Miss Peirce came in here to read, and forgot to turn it + out,” suggested Cora, seating herself on the edge of the bed and + letting her silk wrap fall from her shoulders. “Oh, Laura, wasn’t + he gorgeous. . . .” + </p> + <p> + She referred to the gallant defender of our seas, it appeared, and while + Laura undressed and got into a wrapper, Cora recounted in detail the + history of the impetuous sailor’s enthrallment;—a resume + predicted three hours earlier by a gleeful whisper hissed across the + maritime shoulder as the sisters swung near each other during a waltz: + “<i>proposed</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve always heard they’re horribly inconstant,” + she said, regretfully. “But, oh, Laura, wasn’t he beautiful to + look at! Do you think he’s more beautiful than Val? No—don’t + tell me if you do. I don’t want to hear it! Val was so provoking: he + didn’t seem to mind it at all. He’s nothing but a big brute + sometimes: he wouldn’t even admit that he minded, when I asked him. + I was idiot enough to ask; I couldn’t help it; he was so tantalizing + and exasperating—laughing at me. I never knew anybody like him; he’s + so sure of himself and he can be so cold. Sometimes I wonder if he really + cares about anything, deep down in his heart—anything except + himself. He seems so selfish: there are times when he almost makes me hate + him; but just when I get to thinking I do, I find I don’t—he’s + so deliciously strong, and there’s such a <i>big</i> luxury in being + understood: I always feel he <i>knows</i> me clear to the bone, somehow! + But, oh,” she sighed regretfully, “doesn’t a uniform + become a man? They ought to all wear ’em. It would look silly on + such a little goat as that Wade Trumble, though: nothing could make him + look like a whole man. Did you see him glaring at me? Beast! I was going + to be so nice and kittenish and do all my prettiest tricks for him, to + help Val with his oil company. Val thinks Wade would come in yet, if I’D + only get him in the mood to have another talk with Val about it; but the + spiteful little rat wouldn’t come near me. I believe that was one of + the reasons Val laughed at me and pretended not to mind my getting + proposed to. He <i>must</i> have minded; he couldn’t have helped + minding it, really. That’s his way; he’s so <i>mean</i>—he + won’t show things. He knows <i>me</i>. I can’t keep anything + from him; he reads <i>me</i> like a signboard; and then about himself he + keeps me guessing, and I can’t tell when I’ve guessed right. + Ray Vilas behaved disgustingly, of course; he was horrid and awful. I + might have expected it. I suppose Richard was wailing <i>his</i> tiresome + sorrows on your poor shoulder——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Laura. “He was very cheerful. He seemed glad + you were having a good time.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t look particularly cheerful at me. I never saw so + slow a man: I wonder when he’s going to find out about that pendant. + Val would have seen it the instant I put it on. And, oh, Laura! isn’t + George Wattling funny? He’s just <i>soft</i>! He’s + good-looking though,” she continued pensively, adding, “I + promised to motor out to the Country Club with him to-morrow for tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cora,” protested Laura, “no! Please don’t!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve promised; so I’ll have to, now.” Cora + laughed. “It’ll do Mary Kane good. Oh, I’m not going to + bother much with <i>him</i>—he makes me tired. I never saw anything + so complacent as that girl when she came in to-night, as if her little + Georgie was the greatest capture the world had ever seen. . . .” + </p> + <p> + She chattered on. Laura, passive, listened with a thoughtful expression, + somewhat preoccupied. The talker yawned at last. + </p> + <p> + “It must be after three,” she said, listlessly, having gone + over her evening so often that the colours were beginning to fade. She + yawned again. “Laura,” she remarked absently, “I don’t + see how you can sleep in this bed; it sags so.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve never noticed it,” said her sister. “It’s + a very comfortable old bed.” + </p> + <p> + Cora went to her to be unfastened, reverting to the lieutenant during the + operation, and kissing the tire-woman warmly at its conclusion. “You’re + always so sweet to me, Laura,” she said affectionately. “I don’t + know how you manage it. You’re so good”—she laughed—“sometimes + I wonder how you stand me. If I were you, I’m positive I couldn’t + stand me at all!” Another kiss and a hearty embrace, and she picked + up her wrap and skurried silently through the hall to her own room. + </p> + <p> + It was very late, but Laura wrote for almost an hour in her book (which + was undisturbed) before she felt drowsy. Then she extinguished the lamp, + put the book away and got into bed. + </p> + <p> + It was almost as if she had attempted to lie upon the empty air: the + mattress sagged under her weight as if it had been a hammock; and + something tore with a ripping sound. There was a crash, and a choked yell + from a muffled voice somewhere, as the bed gave way. For an instant, Laura + fought wildly in an entanglement of what she insufficiently perceived to + be springs, slats and bedclothes with something alive squirming + underneath. She cleared herself and sprang free, screaming, but even in + her fright she remembered her father and clapped her hand over her mouth + that she might keep from screaming again. She dove at the door, opened it, + and fled through the hall to Cora’s room, still holding her hand + over her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Cora! Oh, Cora!” she panted, and flung herself upon her + sister’s bed. + </p> + <p> + Cora was up instantly; and had lit the gas in a trice. “There’s + a burglar!” Laura contrived to gasp. “In my room! Under the + bed!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “I fell on him! Something’s the matter with the bed. It broke. + I fell on him!” + </p> + <p> + Cora stared at her wide-eyed. “Why, it can’t be. Think how + long I was in there. Your bed broke, and you just thought there was some + one there. You imagined it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” wailed Laura. “I <i>heard</i> him: he gave + a kind of dreadful grunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Sure</i>? He wriggled—oh! I could <i>feel</i> him!” + </p> + <p> + Cora seized a box of matches again. “I’m going to find out.” + “Oh, no, no!” protested Laura, cowering. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am. If there’s a burglar in the house I’m going + to find him!” + </p> + <p> + “We mustn’t wake papa.” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor mamma either. You stay here if you want to——” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s call Hedrick,” suggested the pallid Laura; + “or put our heads out of the window and scream for——” + </p> + <p> + Cora laughed; she was not in the least frightened. “That wouldn’t + wake papa, of course! If we had a telephone I’d send for the police; + but we haven’t. I’m going to see if there’s any one + there. A burglar’s a man, I guess, and I can’t imagine myself + being afraid of any <i>man</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Laura clung to her, but Cora shook her off and went through the hall + undaunted, Laura faltering behind her. Cora lighted matches with a + perfectly steady hand; she hesitated on the threshold of Laura’s + room no more than a moment, then lit the lamp. + </p> + <p> + Laura stifled a shriek at sight of the bed. “Look, look!” she + gasped. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no one under it now, that’s certain,” + said Cora, and boldly lifted a corner of it. “Why, it’s been + cut all to pieces from underneath! You’re right; there was some one + here. It’s practically dismembered. Don’t you remember my + telling you how it sagged? And I was only sitting on the edge of it! The + slats have all been moved out of place, and as for the mattress, it’s + just a mess of springs and that stuffing stuff. He must have thought the + silver was hidden there.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, oh!” moaned Laura. “He <i>wriggled</i>——ugh!” + </p> + <p> + Cora picked up the lamp. “Well, we’ve got to go over the house——” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! I’ll go alone then.” + </p> + <p> + “You <i>can’t</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, though!” + </p> + <p> + The two girls had changed places in this emergency. In her fright Laura + was dependent, clinging: actual contact with the intruder had unnerved + her. It took all her will to accompany her sister upon the tour of + inspection, and throughout she cowered behind the dauntless Cora. It was + the first time in their lives that their positions had been reversed. From + the days of Cora’s babyhood, Laura had formed the habit of petting + and shielding the little sister, but now that the possibility became + imminent of confronting an unknown and dangerous man, Laura was so shaken + that, overcome by fear, she let Cora go first. Cora had not boasted in + vain of her bravery; in truth, she was not afraid of any man. + </p> + <p> + They found the fastenings of the doors secure and likewise those of all + the windows, until they came to the kitchen. There, the cook had left a + window up, which plausibly explained the marauder’s mode of ingress. + Then, at Cora’s insistence, and to Laura’s shivering horror, + they searched both cellar and garret, and concluded that he had escaped by + the same means. Except Laura’s bed, nothing in the house had been + disturbed; but this eccentricity on the part of a burglar, though it + indeed struck the two girls as peculiar, was not so pointedly mysterious + to them as it might have been had they possessed a somewhat greater + familiarity with the habits of criminals whose crimes are professional. + </p> + <p> + They finally retired, Laura sleeping with her sister, and Cora had begun + to talk of the lieutenant again, instead of the burglar, before Laura fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + In spite of the short hours for sleep, both girls appeared at the + breakfast-table before the meal was over, and were naturally pleased with + the staccato of excitement evoked by their news. Mrs. Madison and Miss + Peirce were warm in admiration of their bravery, but in the same breath + condemned it as foolhardy. + </p> + <p> + “I never knew such wonderful girls!” exclaimed the mother, + almost tearfully. “You crazy little lions! To think of your not even + waking Hedrick! And you didn’t have even a poker and were in your + bare feet—and went down in the <i>cellar</i>——” + </p> + <p> + “It was all Cora,” protested Laura. “I’m a + hopeless, disgusting coward. I never knew what a coward I was before. Cora + carried the lamp and went ahead like a drum-major. I just trailed along + behind her, ready to shriek and run—or faint!” + </p> + <p> + “Could you tell anything about him when you fell on him?” + inquired Miss Peirce. “What was his voice like when he shouted?” + </p> + <p> + “Choked. It was a horrible, jolted kind of cry. It hardly sounded + human.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you tell anything about whether he was a large man, or small, + or——” + </p> + <p> + “Only that he seemed very active. He seemed to be kicking. He <i>wriggled</i>——ugh!” + </p> + <p> + They evolved a plausible theory of the burglar’s motives and line of + reasoning. “You see,” said Miss Peirce, much stirred, in + summing up the adventure, “he either jimmies the window, or finds it + open already, and Sarah’s mistaken and she <i>did</i> leave it open! + Then he searched the downstairs first, and didn’t find anything. + Then he came upstairs, and was afraid to come into any of the rooms where + we were. He could tell which rooms had people in them by hearing us + breathing through the keyholes. He finds two rooms empty, and probably he + made a thorough search of Miss Cora’s first. But he isn’t + after silver toilet articles and pretty little things like that. He wants + really big booty or none, so he decides that an out-of-the-way, + unimportant room like Miss Laura’s is where the family would be most + apt to hide valuables, jewellery and silver, and he knows that mattresses + have often been selected as hiding-places; so he gets under the bed and + goes to work. Then Miss Cora and Miss Laura come in so quietly—not + wanting to wake anybody—that he doesn’t hear them, and he gets + caught there. That’s the way it must have been.” + </p> + <p> + “But why,” Mrs. Madison inquired of this authority, “why + do you suppose he lit the lamp?” + </p> + <p> + “To see by,” answered the ready Miss Peirce. It was accepted + as final. + </p> + <p> + Further discussion was temporarily interrupted by the discovery that + Hedrick had fallen asleep in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t bother him, Cora,” said his mother. “He’s + finished eating—let him sleep a few minutes, if he wants to, before + he goes to school. He’s not at all well. He played too hard, + yesterday afternoon, and hurt his knee, he said. He came down limping this + morning and looking very badly. He oughtn’t to run and climb about + the stable so much after school. See how utterly exhausted he looks!—Not + even this excitement can keep him awake.” + </p> + <p> + “I think we must be careful not to let Mr. Madison suspect anything + about the burglar,” said Miss Peirce. “It would be bad for + him.” + </p> + <p> + Laura began: “But we ought to notify the police——” + </p> + <p> + “Police!” Hedrick woke so abruptly, and uttered the word with + such passionate and vehement protest, that everybody started. “I + suppose you want to <i>kill</i> your father, Laura Madison!” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose he wouldn’t know something had happened with a + squad of big, heavy policemen tromping all over the house? The first thing + they’d do would be to search the whole place——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Mrs. Madison quickly. “It wouldn’t + do at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not! I’m glad,” continued Hedrick, + truthfully, “<i>that</i> idea’s out of your head! I believe + Laura imagined the whole thing anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you looked at her mattress,” inquired Cora, “darling + little boy?” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a concentrated look, and rose to leave. “Nothin’ + on earth but imagina——” He stopped with a grunt as he + forgetfully put his weight on his left leg. He rubbed his knee, swallowed + painfully, and, leaving the word unfinished, limped haughtily from the + room. + </p> + <p> + He left the house, gloomily swinging his books from a spare length of + strap, and walking with care to ease his strains and bruises as much as + possible. He was very low in his mind, that boy. His fortunes had reached + the ebb-tide, but he had no hope of a rise. He had no hope of anything. It + was not even a consolation that, through his talent for surprise in + waylayings, it had lately been thought necessary, by the Villard family, + to have Egerton accompanied to and from school by a man-servant. Nor was + Hedrick more deeply depressed by the certainty that both public and + domestic scandal must soon arise from the inevitable revelation of his + discontinuing his attendance at school without mentioning this important + change of career at home. He had been truant a full fortnight, under + brighter circumstances a matter for a lawless pride—now he had + neither fear nor vainglory. There was no room in him for anything but + dejection. + </p> + <p> + He walked two blocks in the direction of his school; turned a corner; + walked half a block; turned north in the alley which ran parallel to + Corliss Street, and a few moments later had cautiously climbed into an + old, disused refuse box which stood against the rear wall of the empty + stable at his own home. He pried up some loose boards at the bottom of the + box, and entered a tunnel which had often and often served in happier days—when + he had friends—for the escape of Union officers from Libby Prison + and Andersonville. Emerging, wholly soiled, into a box-stall, he crossed + the musty carriage house and ascended some rickety steps to a long vacant + coachman’s-room, next to the hayloft. He closed the door, bolted it, + and sank moodily upon a broken, old horsehair sofa. + </p> + <p> + This apartment was his studio. In addition to the sofa, it contained an + ex-bureau, three chair-like shapes, a once marble-topped table, now + covered with a sheet of zinc, two empty bird cages, and a condemned + whatnot. The walls were rather over-decorated in coloured chalks, the + man-headed-snake motive predominating; they were also loopholed for firing + into the hayloft. Upon the table lay a battered spy-glass, minus lenses, + and, nearby, two boxes, one containing dried corn-silk, the other hayseed, + convenient for the making of amateur cigarettes; the smoker’s outfit + being completed by a neat pile of rectangular clippings from newspapers. + On the shelves of the whatnot were some fragments of a dead pie, the + relics of a “Fifteen-Puzzle,” a pink Easter-egg, four + seashells, a tambourine with part of a girl’s face still visible in + aged colours, about two thirds of a hot-water bag, a tintype of Hedrick, + and a number of books: several by Henty, “Twenty Thousand Leagues + Under the Sea,” “100 Practical Jokes, Easy to Perform,” + “The Jungle Book,” “My Lady Rotha,” a “Family + Atlas,” “Three Weeks,” “Pilgrim’s Progress,” + “A Boy’s Life in Camp,” and “The Mystery of the + Count’s Bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + The gloomy eye of Hedrick wandered to “The Mystery of the Count’s + Bedroom,” and remained fixed upon it moodily and contemptuously. His + own mystery made that one seem tame and easy: Laura’s bedroom laid + it all over the Count’s, in his conviction; and with a soul too + weary of pain to shudder, he reviewed the bafflements and final + catastrophe of the preceding night. + </p> + <p> + He had not essayed the attempt upon the mattress until assured that the + house was wrapped in slumber. Then, with hope in his heart, he had stolen + to Laura’s room, lit the lamp, feeling safe from intrusion, and set + to work. His implement at first was a long hatpin of Cora’s. Lying + on his back beneath the bed, and, moving the slats as it became necessary, + he sounded every cubic inch of the mysterious mattress without + encountering any obstruction which could reasonably be supposed to be the + ledger. This was not more puzzling than it was infuriating, since by all + processes of induction, deduction, and pure logic, the thing was + necessarily there. It was nowhere else. Therefore it was there. It <i>had</i> + to be there! With the great blade of his Boy Scout’s knife he began + to disembowel the mattress. + </p> + <p> + For a time he had worked furiously and effectively, but the position was + awkward, the search laborious, and he was obliged to rest frequently. + Besides, he had waited to a later hour than he knew, for his mother to go + to bed, and during one of his rests he incautiously permitted his eyes to + close. When he woke, his sisters were in the room, and he thought it + advisable to remain where he was, though he little realized how he had + weakened his shelter. When Cora left the room, he heard Laura open the + window, sigh, and presently a tiny clinking and a click set him a-tingle + from head to foot: she was opening the padlocked book. The scratching + sound of a pen followed. And yet she had not come near the bed. The + mattress, then, was a living lie. + </p> + <p> + With infinite caution he had moved so that he could see her, arriving at a + coign of vantage just as she closed the book. She locked it, wrapped it in + an oilskin cover which lay beside it on the table, hung the key-chain + round her neck, rose, yawned, and, to his violent chagrin, put out the + light. He heard her moving but could not tell where, except that it was + not in his part of the room. Then a faint shuffling warned him that she + was approaching the bed, and he withdrew his head to avoid being stepped + upon. The next moment the world seemed to cave in upon him. + </p> + <p> + Laura’s flight had given him opportunity to escape to his own room + unobserved; there to examine, bathe and bind his wounds, and to rectify + his first hasty impression that he had been fatally mangled. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick glared at “The Mystery of the Count’s Bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + By and by he got up, brought the book to the sofa and began to read it + over. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The influence of a familiar and sequestered place is not only soothing; + the bruised mind may often find it restorative. Thus Hedrick, in his + studio, surrounded by his own loved bric-a-brac, began to feel once more + the stir of impulse. Two hours’ reading inspired him. What a French + reporter (in the Count’s bedroom) could do, an American youth in + full possession of his powers—except for a strained knee and other + injuries—could do. Yes, and would! + </p> + <p> + He evolved a new chain of reasoning. The ledger had been seen in Laura’s + room; it had been heard in her room; it appeared to be kept in her room. + But it was in no single part of the room. All the parts make a whole. + Therefore, the book was not in the room. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, Laura had not left the room when she took the book from + its hiding-place. This was confusing; therefore he determined to + concentrate logic solely upon what she had done with the ledger when she + finished writing in it. It was dangerous to assume that she had restored + it to the place whence she obtained it, because he had already proved that + place to be both in the room and out of the room. No; the question he must + keep in was: What did she do with it? + </p> + <p> + Laura had not left the room. But the book had left the room. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at this inevitable deduction, he sprang to his feet in a state of + repressed excitement and began to pace the floor—like a hound on the + trail. Laura had not left the room, but the book had left the room: he + must keep his mind upon this point. He uttered a loud exclamation and + struck the zinc table-top a smart blow with his clenched fist. + </p> + <p> + Laura had thrown the book out of the window! + </p> + <p> + In the exaltation of this triumph, he forgot that it was not yet the hour + for a scholar’s reappearance, and went forth in haste to search the + ground beneath the window—a disappointing quest, for nowhere in the + yard was there anything but withered grass, and the rubbish of other + frost-bitten vegetation. His mother, however, discovered something else, + and, opening the kitchen window, she asked, with surprise: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hedrick, what on earth are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” inquired Hedrick. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Here?” Evidently she puzzled him. + </p> + <p> + She became emphatic. “I want to know what you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Just standing here,” he explained in a meek, grieved way. + </p> + <p> + “But why aren’t you at school?” + </p> + <p> + This recalled what he had forgotten, and he realized the insecurity of his + position. “Oh, yes,” he said—“school. Did you ask + me——” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you go to school?” + </p> + <p> + He began to speak rapidly. “Didn’t I go to <i>school</i>? + Well, where else could I go? Just because I’m here now doesn’t + mean I didn’t <i>go</i>, does it? Because a person is in China right + now wouldn’t have to mean he’d never been in South America, + would it?” + </p> + <p> + “Then what’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was going along, and you know I didn’t feel very well + and——” He paused, with the advent of a happier idea, + then continued briskly: “But that didn’t stop me, because I + thought I ought to go if I dropped, so I went ahead, but the teacher was + sick and they couldn’t get a substitute. She must have been pretty + sick, she looked so pale——” + </p> + <p> + “They dismissed the class?” + </p> + <p> + “And I don’t have to go to-morrow either.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said his mother. “But if you feel ill, Hedrick, + hadn’t you better come in and lie down?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it’s kind of passing off. The fresh air seems to be + doing me good.” + </p> + <p> + “Be careful of your sore knee, dear.” She closed the window, + and he was left to continue his operations in safety. + </p> + <p> + Laura had thrown the ledger out of the window; that was proved absolutely. + Obviously, she had come down before daylight and retrieved it. Or, she had + not. Proceeding on the assumption that she had not, he lifted his eyes and + searched the air. Was it possible that the book, though thrown from the + window, had never reached the ground? The branches of an old and stalwart + maple, now almost divested of leaves, extended in rough symmetry above + him, and one big limb, reaching out toward the house, came close to Laura’s + windows. Triumph shown again from the shrewd countenance of the sleuth: + Laura must have slid the ledger along a wire into a hollow branch. + However, no wire was to be seen—and the shrewd countenance of the + sleuth fell. But perhaps she had constructed a device of silk threads, + invisible from below, which carried the book into the tree. Action! + </p> + <p> + He climbed carefully but with many twinges, finally pausing in a parlous + situation not far from the mysterious window which Laura had opened the + night before. A comprehensive survey of the tree revealed only the very + patent fact that none of the branches was of sufficient diameter to + conceal the ledger. No silk threads came from the window. He looked and + looked and looked at that window; then his eye fell a little, halted less + than three feet below the window-ledge, and the search was ended. + </p> + <p> + The kitchen window which his mother had opened was directly beneath Laura’s, + and was a very long, narrow window, in the style of the house, and there + was a protecting stone ledge above it. Upon this ledge lay the book, + wrapped in its oil-skin covering and secured from falling by a piece of + broken iron hooping, stuck in the mortar of the bricks. It could be seen + from nowhere save an upper window of the house next door, or from the tree + itself, and in either case only when the leaves had fallen. + </p> + <p> + Laura had felt very safe. No one had ever seen the book except that night, + early in August, when, for a better circulation of air, she had left her + door open as she wrote, and Hedrick had come upon her. He had not spoken + of it again; she perceived that he had forgotten it; and she herself + forgot that the memory of a boy is never to be depended on; its + forgettings are too seldom permanent in the case of things that ought to + stay forgotten. + </p> + <p> + To get the book one had only to lean from the window. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * +</pre> + <p> + Hedrick seemed so ill during lunch that his mother spoke of asking Doctor + Sloane to look at him, if he did not improve before evening. Hedrick said + meekly that perhaps that would be best—if he did not improve. After + a futile attempt to eat, he courteously excused himself from the table—a + ceremony which made even Cora fear that his case might be serious—and, + going feebly to the library, stretched himself upon the sofa. His mother + put a rug over him; Hedrick, thanking her touchingly, closed his eyes; and + she went away, leaving him to slumber. + </p> + <p> + After a time, Laura came into the room on an errand, walking noiselessly, + and, noticing that his eyes were open, apologized for waking him. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” he returned, in the tone of an invalid. “I + didn’t sleep sound. I think there’s something the matter + inside my head: I have such terrible dreams. I guess maybe it’s + better for me to keep awake. I’m kind of afraid to go to sleep. + Would you mind staying here with me a little while?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I’ll stay,” she said, and, observing that his + cheeks were flushed, and his eyes unusually bright, she laid a cool hand + on his forehead. “You haven’t any fever, dear; that’s + good. You’ll be all right to-morrow. Would you like me to read to + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” he answered, plaintively, “reading might + kind of disturb my mind: my brain feels so sort of restless and queer. I’d + rather play some kind of game.” + </p> + <p> + “Cards?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not cards exactly. Something’ I can do lying down. Oh, I + know! You remember the one where we drew pictures and the others had to + guess what they were? Well, I’ve invented a game like that. You sit + down at the desk over there and take some sheets of paper. I’ll tell + you the rest.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed. “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, I’ll describe some people and where they live and not + tell who they are, and you see if you can guess their names and addresses.” + </p> + <p> + “Addresses, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because I’m going to describe the way their houses look. + Write each name on a separate sheet of paper, and the number of their + house below it if you know it, and if you don’t know it, just the + street. If it’s a woman: put `Miss’ or `Mrs.’ before + their name and if it’s a man write `Esquire’ after it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is all that necessary for the game?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the way I invented it and I think you might——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right,” she acquiesced, good-naturedly. “It + shall be according to your rules.” + </p> + <p> + “Then afterward, you give me the sheets of paper with the names and + addresses written on ’em, and we—we——” He + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What do we do then?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you when we come to it.” But when that stage + of his invention was reached, and Laura had placed the inscribed sheets in + his hand, his interest had waned, it appeared. Also, his condition had + improved. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s quit. I thought this game would be more exciting,” + he said, sitting up. “I guess,” he added with too much + modesty, “I’m not very good at inventing games. I b’lieve + I’ll go out to the barn; I think the fresh air——” + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel well enough to go out?” she asked. “You do + seem to be all right, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’m a lot better, I think.” He limped to the door. + “The fresh air will be the best thing for me.” + </p> + <p> + She did not notice that he carelessly retained her contributions to the + game, and he reached his studio with them in his hand. Hedrick had entered + the ‘teens and he was a reader: things in his head might have + dismayed a Borgia. + </p> + <p> + No remotest glimpse entered that head of the enormity of what he did. To + put an end to his punishing of Cora, and, to render him powerless against + that habitual and natural enemy, Laura had revealed a horrible incident in + his career—it had become a public scandal; he was the sport of + fools; and it might be months before the thing was lived down. Now he had + the means, as he believed, to even the score with both sisters at a + stroke. To him it was turning a tremendous and properly scathing joke upon + them. He did not hesitate. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * +</pre> + <p> + That evening, as Richard Lindley sat at dinner with his mother, Joe Varden + temporarily abandoned his attendance at the table to answer the front + doorbell. Upon his return, he remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Messenger-boy mus’ been in big hurry. Wouldn’ wait till + I git to door.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” asked Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Boy with package. Least, I reckon it were a boy. Call’ back + from the front walk, say he couldn’ wait. Say he lef’ package + in vestibule.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a package?” + </p> + <p> + “Middle-size kind o’ big package.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you see what it is, Richard?” Mrs. Lindley + asked of her son. “Bring it to the table, Joe.” + </p> + <p> + When it was brought, Richard looked at the superscription with surprise. + The wrapper was of heavy brown paper, and upon it a sheet of white + notepaper had been pasted, with the address: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Richard Lindley, Esq., + 1218 Corliss Street.” + </pre> + <p> + “It’s from Laura Madison,” he said, staring at this + writing. “What in the world would Laura be sending me?” + </p> + <p> + “You might possibly learn by opening it,” suggested his + mother. “I’ve seen men puzzle over the outside of things quite + as often as women. Laura Madison is a nice girl.” She never + volunteered similar praise of Laura Madison’s sister. Mrs. Lindley + had submitted to her son’s plans concerning Cora, lately confided; + but her submission lacked resignation. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a book,” said Richard, even more puzzled, as he + took the ledger from its wrappings. “Two little torn places at the + edge of the covers. Looks as if it had once had clasps——” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it’s the Madison family album,” Mrs. Lindley + suggested. “Pictures of Cora since infancy. I imagine she’s + had plenty taken.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” He opened the book and glanced at the pages covered in + Laura’s clear, readable hand. “No, it’s about half full + of writing. Laura must have turned literary.” He read a line or two, + frowning mildly. “My soul! I believe it’s a novel! She must + think I’m a critic—to want me to read it.” Smiling at + the idea, he closed the ledger. “I’ll take it upstairs to my + hang-out after dinner, and see if Laura’s literary manner has my + august approval. Who in the world would ever have thought she’d + decide to set up for a writer?” + </p> + <p> + “I imagine she might have something to write worth reading,” + said his mother. “I’ve always thought she was an + interesting-looking girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is. She dances well, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” continued Mrs. Lindley, thoughtfully, “she + seldom <i>says</i> anything interesting, but that may be because she so + seldom has a chance to say anything at all.” + </p> + <p> + Richard refused to perceive this allusion. “Curious that Laura + should have sent it to me,” he said. “She’s never seemed + interested in my opinion about anything. I don’t recall her ever + speaking to me on any subject whatever—except one.” + </p> + <p> + He returned his attention to his plate, but his mother did not appear to + agree with him that the topic was exhausted. + </p> + <p> + “`Except one’?” she repeated, after waiting for some + time. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, in his habitual preoccupied and casual + tone. “Or perhaps two. Not more than two, I should say—and in + a way you’d call that only one, of course. Bread, Joe.” + </p> + <p> + “What two, Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he said, with gentle simplicity, “and me.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Lindley had arranged for her son a small apartment on the second + floor, and it was in his own library and smoking-room that Richard, + comfortable in a leather-chair by a reading-lamp, after dinner, opened + Laura’s ledger. + </p> + <p> + The first page displayed no more than a date now eighteen months past, and + the line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Love came to me to-day.” + </pre> + <p> + The next page was dated the next day, and, beneath, he read: + </p> + <p> + “That was all I <i>could</i> write, yesterday. I think I was too + excited to write. Something seemed to be singing in my breast. I couldn’t + think in sentences—not even in words. How queer it is that I had + decided to keep a diary, and bound this book for it, and now the first + thing I have written in it was <i>that</i>! It will not be a diary. It + shall be <i>your</i> book. I shall keep it sacred to You and write to You + in it. How strange it will be if the day ever comes when I shall show it + to You! If it should, you would not laugh at it, for of course the day + couldn’t come unless you understood. I cannot think it will ever + come—that day! But maybe—— No, I mustn’t let + myself hope too much that it will, because if I got to hoping too much, + and you didn’t like me, it would hurt too much. People who expect + nothing are never disappointed—I must keep that in mind. Yet <i>every</i> + girl has a <i>right</i> to hope for her own man to come for her some time, + hasn’t she? It’s not easy to discipline the wanting to hope—since + <i>yesterday</i>! + </p> + <p> + “I think I must always have thought a great deal about you without + knowing it. We really know so little what we think: our minds are going on + all the time and we hardly notice them. It is like a queer sort of factory—the + owner only looks in once in a while and most of the time hasn’t any + idea what sort of goods his spindles are turning out. + </p> + <p> + “I saw You yesterday! It seems to me the strangest thing in the + world. I’ve seen you by chance, probably two or three times a month + nearly all my life, though you so seldom come here to call. And this time + wasn’t different from dozens of other times—you were just + standing on the corner by the Richfield, waiting for a car. The only + possible difference is that you had been out of town for several months—Cora + said so this morning—and how ridiculous it seems now, didn’t + even know it! I hadn’t noticed it—not with the top part of my + mind, but perhaps the deep part that does the real thinking had noticed it + and had mourned your absence and was so glad to see you again that it made + the top part suddenly see the wonderful truth!” + </p> + <p> + Lindley set down the ledger to relight his cigar. It struck him that Laura + had been writing “very odd Stuff,” but interesting; and + certainly it was not a story. Vaguely he recalled Marie Bashkirtseff: hadn’t + she done something like this? He resumed the reading: + </p> + <p> + “You turned and spoke to me in that lovely, cordial, absent-minded + way of yours—though I’d never thought (with the top part) what + a lovely way it was; and for a moment I only noticed how nice you looked + in a light gray suit, because I’d only seen you in black for so + long, while you’d been in mourning for your brother.” + </p> + <p> + Richard, disturbed by an incredible idea, read these last words over and + then dismissed the notion as nonsense. + </p> + <p> + “. . . While you’d been in mourning for your brother—and + it struck me that light gray was becoming to you. Then such a queer thing + happened: I felt the great kindness of your eyes. I thought they were full + of—the only word that seems to express it at all is <i>charity</i>—and + they had a sweet, faraway look, too, and I’ve <i>always</i> thought + that a look of wistful kindness was the loveliest look in the world—and + you had it, and I saw it and then suddenly, as you held your hat in your + hand, the sunshine on your hair seemed brighter than any sunshine I had + ever seen—and I began to tremble all over. I didn’t understand + what was the matter with me or what had made me afraid with you not of you—all + at once, but I was so hopelessly rattled that instead of waiting for the + car, as I’d just told you I meant to, I said I’d decided to + walk, and got away—without any breath left to breathe with! I <i>couldn’t</i> + have gotten on the car with you—- and I couldn’t have spoken + another word. + </p> + <p> + “And as I walked home, trembling all the way, I saw that strange, + dazzling sunshine on your hair, and the wistful, kind look in your eyes—you + seemed not to have taken the car but to have come with me—and I was + uplifted and exalted oh, so strangely—oh, how the world was changing + for me! And when I got near home, I began to walk faster, and on the front + path I broke into a run and rushed in the house to the piano—and it + was as if my fingers were thirsty for the keys! Then I saw that I was + playing to you and knew that I loved you. + </p> + <p> + “I love you! + </p> + <p> + “How different everything is now from everything before. Music means + what it never did: Life has leaped into blossom for me. Everywhere there + is colour and radiance that I had never seen—the air is full of + perfume. Dear, the sunshine that fell upon your head has spread over the + world! + </p> + <p> + “I understand, as I never understood, that the world—so + dazzling to me now—was made for love and is meaningless without it. + The years until yesterday are gray—no, not gray, because that was + the colour You were wearing—not gray, because that is a beautiful + colour. The empty years until yesterday had no colour at all. Yes, the + world has meaning only through loving, and without meaning there is no + real life. We live only by loving, and now that this gift of life has come + to me I love <i>all</i> the world. I feel that I must be so kind, kind, <i>kind</i> + to <i>everybody</i>! Such an odd thing struck me as my greatest wish. When + I was little, I remember grandmother telling me how, when she was a child + in pioneer days, the women made the men’s clothes—homespun—and + how a handsome young Circuit Rider, who was a bachelor, seemed to her the + most beautifully dressed man she had ever seen. The women of the different + churches made his clothes, as they did their husbands’ and brothers.’ + you see—only better! It came into my head that that would be the + divinest happiness that I could know—to sew for you! If you and I + lived in those old, old times—you <i>look</i> as if you belonged to + them, you know, dear—and You were the young minister riding into the + settlement on a big bay horse—and all the girls at the window, of + course!—and I sewing away at the homespun for you!—I think all + the angels of heaven would be choiring in my heart—and what thick, + warm clothes I’d make you for winter! Perhaps in heaven they’ll + let some of the women sew for the men they love—I wonder! + </p> + <p> + “I hear Cora’s voice from downstairs as I write. She’s + often so angry with Ray, poor girl. It does not seem to me that she and + Ray really belong to each other, though they <i>say</i> so often that they + do.” + </p> + <p> + Richard having read thus far with a growing, vague uneasiness, looked up, + frowning. He hoped Laura had no Marie Bashkirtseff idea of publishing this + manuscript. It was too intimate, he thought, even if the names in it were + to be disguised. + </p> + <p> + . . . “Though they <i>say</i> so often that they do. I think Ray is + in love with <i>her</i>, but it can’t be like <i>this</i>. What he + feels must be something wholly different—there is violence and + wildness in it. And they are bitter with each other so often— always + `getting even’ for something. He does care—he is frantically `<i>in</i> + love’ with her, undoubtedly, but so insanely jealous. I suppose all + jealousy is insane. But love is the only sanity. How can what is insane be + part of it? I could not be jealous of You. I owe life to you—I have + never lived till now.” + </p> + <p> + The next writing was two days later: + </p> + <p> + . . . . “To-day as I passed your house with Cora, I kept looking at + the big front door at which you go in and out so often—<i>your</i> + door! I never knew that just a door could look so beautiful! And + unconsciously I kept my eyes on it, as we walked on, turning my head and + looking and looking back at it, till Cora suddenly burst out laughing, and + said: `Well, <i>Laura</i>!’ And I came to myself—and found her + looking at me. It was like getting back after a journey, and for a second + I was a little dazed, and Cora kept on laughing at me, and I felt myself + getting red. I made some silly excuse about thinking your house had been + repainted—and she laughed louder than ever. I was afraid then that + she understood—I wonder if she could have? I hope not, though I love + her so much I don’t know why I would rather she didn’t know, + unless it is just my <i>feeling</i> about it. It is a <i>guardian</i> + feeling—that I must keep for myself, the music of these angels + singing in my heart—singing of You. I hope she did not understand—and + I so fear she did. Why should I be so <i>afraid</i>?” . . . + </p> + <p> + . . . . “Two days since I have talked to You in your book after Cora + caught me staring at your door and laughed at me—and ten minutes ago + I was sitting beside the <i>actual</i> You on the porch! I am trembling + yet. It was the first time you’d come for months and months; and yet + you had the air of thinking it rather a pleasant thing to do as you came + up the steps! And a dizzy feeling came over me, because I wondered if it + was seeing me on the street <i>that</i> day that put it into your head to + come. It seemed too much happiness—and risking too much—to let + myself <i>believe</i> it, but I couldn’t help just wondering. I + began to tremble as I saw you coming up our side of the street in the + moonlight—and when you turned in here I was all panic—I nearly + ran into the house. I don’t know how I found voice to greet you. I + didn’t seem to have any breath left at all. I was so relieved when + Cora took a chair between us and began to talk to you, because I’m + sure I couldn’t have. She and poor Ray had been having one of their + quarrels and she was punishing him. Poor boy, he seemed so miserable—though + he tried to talk to me—about politics, I think, though I’m not + sure, because I couldn’t listen much better than either of us could + talk. I could only hear Your voice—such a rich, quiet voice, and it + has a sound like the look you have—friendly and faraway and wistful. + I have thought and thought about what it is that makes you look wistful. + You have less to wish for than anybody else in the world because you have + Yourself. So why are you wistful? I think it’s just because you <i>are</i>! + </p> + <p> + “I heard Cora asking you why you hadn’t come to see us for so + long, and then she said: `Is it because you dislike me? You look at me, + sometimes, as if you dislike me!’ And I wished she hadn’t said + it. I had a feeling you wouldn’t like that `personal’ way of + talking that she enjoys—and that—oh, it didn’t seem to + be in keeping with the dignity of You! And I love Cora so much I wanted + her to be finer—with You. I wanted her to understand you better than + to play those little charming tricks at you. You are so good, so <i>high</i>, + that if she could make a real friend of you I think it would be the best + thing for her that could happen. She’s never had a man-<i>friend</i>. + Perhaps she <i>was</i> trying to make one of you and hasn’t any + other way to go about it. She can be so <i>really</i> sweet, I wanted you + to see that side of her. + </p> + <p> + “Afterwhile, when Ray couldn’t bear it any longer to talk to + me, and in his desperation brazenly took Cora to the other end of the + porch almost by force, and I was left, in a way, alone with you what did + you think of me? I was tongue-tied! Oh, oh, oh! You were quiet—but + <i>I</i> was <i>dumb</i>! My heart wasn’t dumb—it hammered! + All the time I kept saying to myself such a jumble of things. And into the + jumble would come such a rapture that You were there—it was like a + paean of happiness—a chanting of the glory of having You near me—I + <i>was</i> mixed up! I could <i>play</i> all those confused things, but + writing them doesn’t tell it. Writing them would only be like this: + `He’s here, he’s <i>here</i>! Speak, you little fool! He’s + here, he’s here! He’s sitting beside you! <i>speak</i>, idiot, + or he’ll never come back! He’s here, he’s beside you you + could put out your hand and touch him! Are you dead, that you can’t + speak? He’s here, he’s here, he’s <i>here</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + “Ah, some day I shall be able to talk to you—but not till I + get more used to this inner song. It seems to <i>will</i> that nothing + else shall come from my lips till <i>it</i> does! + </p> + <p> + “In spite of my silence—my outward woodenness—you said, + as you went away, that you would come again! You said `soon’! I + could only nod but Cora called from the other end of the porch and asked: + `<i>How</i> soon?’ Oh, I bless her for it, because you said, `Day + after to-morrow.’ Day after tomorrow! Day after to-morrow! <i>Day + after tomorrow</i>! + </p> + <p> + . . . . “Twenty-one hours since I wrote—no, <i>sang</i>—`Day + after to-morrow!’ And now it is `To-morrow!’ Oh, the slow, + golden day that this has been! I could not stay in the house—I + walked—no, I <i>winged</i>! I was in the open country before I knew + it—with You! For You are in everything. I never knew the sky was + blue, before. Until now I just thought it was the sky. The whitest clouds + I ever saw sailed over that blue, and I stood upon the prow of each in + turn, then leaped in and swam to the next and sailed with <i>it</i>! Oh, + the beautiful sky, and kind, green woods and blessed, long, white, dusty + country road! Never in my life shall I forget that walk—this day in + the open with my love—You! To-morrow! To-morrow! To-morrow! <i>To-morrow</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The next writing in Laura’s book was dated more than two months + later: + </p> + <p> + . . . . “I have decided to write again in this book. I have thought + it all out carefully, and I have come to the conclusion that it can do no + harm and may help me to be steady and sensible. It is the thought, not its + expression, that is guilty, but I do not believe that my thoughts are + guilty: I believe that they are good. I know that I wish only good. I have + read that when people suffer very much the best thing is for them to cry. + And so I’ll let myself <i>write</i> out my feelings—and + perhaps get rid of some of the silly self-pity I’m foolish enough to + feel, instead of going about choked up with it. How queer it is that even + when we keep our thoughts respectable we can’t help having absurd <i>feelings</i> + like self-pity, even though we know how rotten stupid they are! Yes, I’ll + let it all out here, and then, some day, when I’ve cured myself all + whole again, I’ll burn this poor, silly old book. And if I’m + not cured before the wedding, I’ll burn it then, anyhow. + </p> + <p> + “How funny little girls are! From the time they’re little bits + of things they talk about marriage—whom they are going to marry, + what sort of person it will be. I think Cora and I began when she was + about five and I not seven. And as girls grow up, I don’t believe + there was ever one who genuinely expected to be an old maid. The most + unattractive young girls discuss and plan and expect marriage just as much + as the prettier and gayer ones. The only way we can find out that men don’t + want to marry us is by their not asking us. We don’t see ourselves + very well, and I honestly believe we all think—way deep down—that + we’re pretty attractive. At least, every girl has the idea, + sometimes, that if men only saw the whole truth they’d think her as + nice as any other girl, and really nicer than most others. But I don’t + believe I have any hallucinations of that sort about myself left. I can’t + imagine—now—<i>any</i> man seeing anything in me that would + make him care for me. I can’t see anything about me to care for, + myself. Sometimes I think maybe I could make a man get excited about me if + I could take a startlingly personal tone with him from the beginning, + making him wonder all sorts of you-and-I perhapses—but I couldn’t + do it very well probably—oh, I couldn’t make myself do it if I + could do it well! And I shouldn’t think it would have much effect + except upon very inexperienced men—yet it does! Now, I wonder if + this is a streak of sourness coming out; I don’t feel bitter—I’m + just thinking honestly, I’m sure. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here I am facing it: all through my later childhood, and all + through my girlhood, I believe what really occupied me most—with the + thought of it underlying all things else, though often buried very deep—was + the prospect of my marriage. I regarded it as a certainty: I would grow + up, fall in love, get engaged, and be married—of course! So I grew + up and fell in love with You—but it stops there, and I must learn + how to be an Old Maid and not let anybody see that I mind it. I know this + is the hardest part of it, the beginning: it will get easier by-and-by, of + course. If I can just manage this part of it, it’s bound not to hurt + so much later on. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I grew up and fell in love with You—for you will always + be You. I’ll never, never get over <i>that</i>, my dear! You’ll + never, never know it; but I shall love You always till I die, and if I’m + still Me after that, I shall keep right on loving you then, of course. You + see, I didn’t fall in love with you just to have you for myself. I + fell in love with You! And that can never bother you at all nor ever be a + shame to me that I love unsought, because you won’t know, and + because it’s just an ocean of good-will, and every beat of my heart + sends a new great wave of it toward you and Cora. I shall find happiness, + I believe, in service—I am sure there will be times when I can serve + you both. I love you both and I can serve her for You and you for her. + This isn’t a hysterical mood, or a fit of `exaltation’: I have + thought it all out and I know that I can live up to it. You are the best + thing that can ever come into her life, and everything I can do shall be + to keep you there. I must be very, very careful with her, for talk and + advice do not influence her much. You love her—she has accepted you, + and it is beautiful for you both. It must be kept beautiful. It has all + become so clear to me: You are just what she has always needed, and if by + any mischance she lost you I do not know what would become——” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” cried Richard. He sprang to his feet, and the + heavy book fell with a muffled crash upon the floor, sprawling open upon + its face, its leaves in disorder. He moved away from it, staring at it in + incredulous dismay. But he knew. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINETEEN + </h2> + <p> + Memory, that drowsy custodian, had wakened slowly, during this hour, + beginning the process with fitful gleams of semi-consciousness, then, + irritated, searching its pockets for the keys and dazedly exploring blind + passages; but now it flung wide open the gallery doors, and there, in + clear light, were the rows of painted canvasses. + </p> + <p> + He remembered “that day” when he was waiting for a car, and + Laura Madison had stopped for a moment, and then had gone on, saying she + preferred to walk. He remembered that after he got into the car he + wondered why he had not walked home with her; had thought himself “slow” + for not thinking of it in time to do it. There had seemed something very + “taking” about her, as she stopped and spoke to him, something + enlivening and wholesome and sweet—it had struck him that Laura was + a “very nice girl.” He had never before noticed how really + charming she could look; in fact he had never thought much about either of + the Madison sisters, who had become “young ladies” during his + mourning for his brother. And this pleasant image of Laura remained with + him for several days, until he decided that it might be a delightful thing + to spend an evening with her. He had called, and he remembered, now, Cora’s + saying to him that he looked at her sometimes as if he did not like her; + he had been surprised and astonishingly pleased to detect a mysterious + feeling in her about it. + </p> + <p> + He remembered that almost at once he had fallen in love with Cora: she + captivated him, enraptured him, as she still did—as she always + would, he felt, no matter how she treated him or what she did to him. He + did not analyze the process of the captivation and enrapturement—for + love is a mystery and cannot be analyzed. This is so well known that even + Richard Lindley knew it, and did not try! + </p> + <p> + . . . Heartsick, he stared at the fallen book. He was a man, and here was + the proffered love of a woman he did not want. There was a pathos in the + ledger; it seemed to grovel, sprawling and dishevelled in the circle of + lamp-light on the floor: it was as if Laura herself lay pleading at his + feet, and he looked down upon her, compassionate but revolted. He realized + with astonishment from what a height she had fallen, how greatly he had + respected her, how warmly liked her. What she now destroyed had been more + important than he had guessed. + </p> + <p> + Simple masculine indignation rose within him: she was to have been his + sister. If she had been unable to stifle this misplaced love of hers, + could she not at least have kept it to herself? Laura, the + self-respecting! No; she offered it—offered it to her sister’s + betrothed. She had written that he should “never, never know it”; + that when she was “cured” she would burn the ledger. She had + not burned it! There were inconsistencies in plenty in the pitiful screed, + but these were the wildest—and the cheapest. In talk, she had urged + him to “keep trying,” for Cora, and now the sick-minded + creature sent him this record. She wanted him to know. Then what else was + it but a plea? “I love you. Let Cora go. Take me.” + </p> + <p> + He began to walk up and down, wondering what was to be done. After a time, + he picked up the book gingerly, set it upon a shelf in a dark corner, and + went for a walk outdoors. The night air seemed better than that of the + room that held the ledger. + </p> + <p> + At the corner a boy, running, passed him. It was Hedrick Madison, but + Hedrick did not recognize Richard, nor was his mind at that moment + concerned with Richard’s affairs; he was on an errand of haste to + Doctor Sloane. Mr. Madison had wakened from a heavy slumber unable to + speak, his condition obviously much worse. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick returned in the doctor’s car, and then hung uneasily about + the door of the sick-room until Laura came out and told him to go to bed. + In the morning, his mother did not appear at the breakfast table, Cora was + serious and quiet, and Laura said that he need not go to school that day, + though she added that the doctor thought their father would get “better.” + She looked wan and hollow-eyed: she had not been to bed, but declared that + she would rest after breakfast. Evidently she had not missed her ledger; + and Hedrick watched her closely, a pleasurable excitement stirring in his + breast. + </p> + <p> + She did not go to her room after the meal; the house was cold, possessing + no furnace, and, with Hedrick’s assistance, she carried out the + ashes from the library grate, and built a fire there. She had just lighted + it, and the kindling was beginning to crackle, glowing rosily over her + tired face, when the bell rang. + </p> + <p> + “Will you see who it is, please, Hedrick?” + </p> + <p> + He went with alacrity, and, returning, announced in an odd voice. “It’s + Dick Lindley. He wants to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” she murmured, wanly surprised. She was kneeling before + the fireplace, wearing an old dress which was dusted with ashes, and upon + her hands a pair of worn-out gloves of her father’s. Lindley + appeared in the hall behind Hedrick, carrying under his arm something + wrapped in brown paper. His expression led her to think that he had heard + of her father’s relapse, and came on that account. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t look at me, Richard,” she said, smiling faintly + as she rose, and stripping her hands of the clumsy gloves. “It’s + good of you to come, though. Doctor Sloane thinks he is going to be better + again.” + </p> + <p> + Richard inclined his head gravely, but did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Hedrick with a slight emphasis, “I guess I’ll + go out in the yard a while.” And with shining eyes he left the room. + </p> + <p> + In the hall, out of range from the library door, he executed a triumphant + but noiseless caper, and doubled with mirth, clapping his hand over his + mouth to stifle the effervescings of his joy. He had recognized the ledger + in the same wrapping in which he had left it in Mrs. Lindley’s + vestibule. His moment had come: the climax of his enormous joke, the + repayment in some small measure for the anguish he had so long endured. He + crept silently back toward the door, flattened his back against the wall, + and listened. + </p> + <p> + “Richard,” he heard Laura say, a vague alarm in her voice, + “what is it? What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Then Lindley: “I did not know what to do about it. I couldn’t + think of any sensible thing. I suppose what I am doing is the stupidest of + all the things I thought of, but at least it’s honest—so I’ve + brought it back to you myself. Take it, please.” + </p> + <p> + There was a crackling of the stiff wrapping paper, a little pause, then a + strange sound from Laura. It was not vocal and no more than just audible: + it was a prolonged scream in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick ventured an eye at the crack, between the partly open door and its + casing. Lindley stood with his back to him, but the boy had a clear view + of Laura. She was leaning against the wall, facing Richard, the book + clutched in both arms against her bosom, the wrapping paper on the floor + at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I thought of sending it back and pretending to think it had been + left at my mother’s house by mistake,” said Richard sadly, + “and of trying to make it seem that I hadn’t read any of it. I + thought of a dozen ways to pretend I believed you hadn’t really + meant me to read it——” + </p> + <p> + Making a crucial effort, she managed to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You—think I—did mean——” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he answered, with a helpless shrug, “you sent + it! But it’s what’s in it that really matters, isn’t it? + I could have pretended anything in a note, I suppose, if I had written + instead of coming. But I found that what I most dreaded was meeting you + again, and as we’ve got to meet, of course, it seemed to me the only + thing to do was to blunder through a talk with you, somehow or another, + and get that part of it over. I thought the longer I put off facing you, + the worse it would be for both of us—and—and the more + embarrassing. I’m no good at pretending, anyhow; and the thing has + happened. What use is there in not being honest? Well?” + </p> + <p> + She did not try again to speak. Her state was lamentable: it was all in + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Richard hung his head wretchedly, turning partly away from her. “There’s + only one way—to look at it,” he said hesitatingly, and + stammering. “That is—there’s only one thing to do: to + forget that it’s happened. I’m—I—oh, well, I care + for Cora altogether. She’s got never to know about this. She hasn’t + any idea or—suspicion of it, has she?” + </p> + <p> + Laura managed to shake her head. + </p> + <p> + “She never must have,” he said. “Will you promise me to + burn that book now?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I—I’m awfully sorry, Laura,” he said brokenly. + “I’m not idiot enough not to see that you’re suffering + horribly. I suppose I have done the most blundering thing possible.” + He stood a moment, irresolute, then turned to the door. “Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick had just time to dive into the hideous little room of the + multitudinous owls as Richard strode into the hall. Then, with the closing + of the front door, the boy was back at his post. + </p> + <p> + Laura stood leaning against the wall, the book clutched in her arms, as + Richard had left her. Slowly she began to sink, her eyes wide open, and, + with her back against the wall, she slid down until she was sitting upon + the floor. Her arms relaxed and hung limp at her sides, letting the book + topple over in her lap, and she sat motionless. + </p> + <p> + One of her feet protruded from her skirt, and the leaping firelight + illumined it ruddily. It was a graceful foot in an old shoe which had been + re-soled and patched. It seemed very still, that patched shoe, as if it + might stay still forever. Hedrick knew that Laura had not fainted, but he + wished she would move her foot. + </p> + <p> + He went away. He went into the owl-room again, and stood there silently a + long, long time. Then he stole back again toward the library door, but + caught a glimpse of that old, motionless shoe through the doorway as he + came near. Then he spied no more. He went out to the stable, and, + secluding himself in his studio, sat moodily to meditate. + </p> + <p> + Something was the matter. Something had gone wrong. He had thrown a bomb + which he had expected to go off with a stupendous bang, leaving him, as + the smoke cleared, looking down in merry triumph, stinging his fallen + enemies with his humour, withering them with satire, and inquiring of them + how it felt, now <i>they</i> were getting it. But he was decidedly + untriumphant: he wished Laura had moved her foot and that she hadn’t + that patch upon her shoe. He could not get his mind off that patch. He + began to feel very queer: it seemed to be somehow because of the patch. If + she had worn a pair of new shoes that morning. . . . Yes, it was that + patch. + </p> + <p> + Thirteen is a dangerous age: nothing is more subtle. The boy, inspired to + play the man, is beset by his own relapses into childhood, and Hedrick was + near a relapse. + </p> + <p> + By and by, he went into the house again, to the library. Laura was not + there, but he found the fire almost smothered under heaping ashes. She had + burned her book. + </p> + <p> + He went into the room where the piano was, and played “The Girl on + the Saskatchewan” with one finger; then went out to the porch and + walked up and down, whistling cheerily. + </p> + <p> + After that, he went upstairs and asked Miss Peirce how his father was + “feeling,” receiving a noncommital reply; looked in at Cora’s + room; saw that his mother was lying asleep on Cora’s bed and Cora + herself examining the contents of a dressing-table drawer; and withdrew. A + moment later, he stood in the passage outside Laura’s closed door + listening. There was no sound. + </p> + <p> + He retired to his own chamber, found it unbearable, and, fascinated by + Laura’s, returned thither; and, after standing a long time in the + passage, knocked softly on the door. + </p> + <p> + “Laura,” he called, in a rough and careless voice, “it’s + kind of a pretty day outdoors. If you’ve had your nap, if I was you + I’d go out for a walk.” There was no response. “I’ll + go with you,” he added, “if you want me to.” + </p> + <p> + He listened again and heard nothing. Then he turned the knob softly. The + door was unlocked; he opened it and went in. + </p> + <p> + Laura was sitting in a chair, with her back to a window, her hands in her + lap. She was staring straight in front of her. + </p> + <p> + He came near her hesitatingly, and at first she did not seem to see him or + even to know that she was not alone in the room. Then she looked at him + wonderingly, and, as he stood beside her, lifted her right hand and set it + gently upon his head. + </p> + <p> + “Hedrick,” she said, “was it you that took my book to——” + </p> + <p> + All at once he fell upon his knees, hid his face in her lap, and burst + into loud and passionate sobbing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY + </h2> + <p> + Valentine Corliss, having breakfasted in bed at a late hour that morning, + dozed again, roused himself, and, making a toilet, addressed to the image + in his shaving-mirror a disgusted monosyllable. + </p> + <p> + “Ass!” + </p> + <p> + However, he had not the look of a man who had played cards all night to a + disastrous tune with an accompaniment in Scotch. His was a surface not + easily indented: he was hard and healthy, clear-skinned and clear-eyed. + When he had made himself point-device, he went into the “parlour” + of his apartment, frowning at the litter of malodorous, relics, stumps and + stubs and bottles and half-drained glasses, scattered chips and cards, + dregs of a night session. He had been making acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + He sat at the desk and wrote with a steady hand in Italian: + </p> + <h3> + MOST ILLUSTRIOUS MOLITERNO: + </h3> + <p> + We live but learn little. As to myself it appears that I learn nothing—nothing! + You will at once convey to me by <i>cable</i> five thousand lire. No; add + the difference in exchange so as to make it one thousand dollars which I + shall receive, taking that sum from the two-hundred and thirty thousand + lire which I entrusted to your safekeeping by cable as the result of my + enterprise in this place. I should have returned at once, content with + that success, but as you know I am a very stupid fellow, never pleased + with a moderate triumph, nor with a large one, when there is a possible + prospect of greater. I am compelled to believe that the greater I had in + mind in this case was an illusion: my gentle diplomacy avails nothing + against a small miser—for we have misers even in these States, + though you will not believe it. I abandon him to his riches! From the + success of my venture I reserved four thousand dollars to keep by me and + for my expenses, and it is humiliating to relate that all of this, except + a small banknote or two, was taken from me last night by amateurs. I + should keep away from cards—they hate me, and alone I can do nothing + with them. Some young gentlemen of the place, whose acquaintance I had + made at a ball, did me the honour of this lesson at the native game of + poker, at which I—though also native—am not even so expert as + yourself, and, as you will admit, Antonio, my friend, you are not a good + player—when observed. Unaided, I was a child in their hands. It was + also a painful rule that one paid for the counters upon delivery. This + made me ill, but I carried it off with an air of carelessness creditable + to an adopted Neapolitan. Upon receipt of the money you are to cable me, I + shall leave this town and sail immediately. Come to Paris, and meet me + there at the place on the Rue Auber within ten days from your reading this + letter. You will have, remaining, two hundred and twenty-five thousand + francs, which it will be safer to bring in cash, and I will deal well with + you, as is our custom with each other. You have done excellently + throughout; your cables and letters for exhibition concerning those famous + oil wells have been perfection; and I shall of course not deduct what was + taken by these thieves of poker players from the sum of profits upon which + we shall estimate your commission. I have several times had the feeling + that the hour for departure had arrived; now I shall delay not a moment + after receiving your cable, though I may occupy the interim with a last + attempt to interest my small miser. Various circumstances cause me some + uneasiness, though I do not believe I could be successfully assailed by + the law in the matter of oil. You do own an estate in Basilicata, at least + your brother does—these good people here would not be apt to + discover the difference—and the rest is a matter of plausibility. + The odious coincidence of encountering the old cow, Pryor, fretted me + somewhat (though he has not repeated his annoying call), and I have other + small apprehensions—for example, that it may not improve my credit + if my loss of last night becomes gossip, though the thieves professed + strong habits of discretion. My little affair of gallantry grows + embarrassing. Such affairs are so easy to inaugurate; extrication is more + difficult. However, without it I should have failed to interest my + investor and there is always the charm. Your last letter is too curious in + that matter. Licentious man, one does not write of these things while + under the banner of the illustrious Uncle Sam—I am assuming the + American attitude while here, or perhaps my early youth returns to me—a + thing very different from your own boyhood, Don Antonio. Nevertheless, I + promise you some laughter in the Rue Auber. Though you will not be able to + understand the half of what I shall tell you—particularly the + portraits I shall sketch of my defeated rivals—your spirit shall + roll with laughter. + </p> + <p> + To the bank, then, the instant you read. Cable me one thousand dollars, + and be at the Rue Auber not more than ten days later. To the bank! Thence + to the telegraph office. Speed! V. C. + </p> + <p> + He was in better spirits as he read over this letter, and he chuckled as + he addressed it. He pictured himself in the rear room of the bar in the + Rue Auber, relating, across the little marble-topped table, this American + adventure, to the delight of that blithe, ne’er-do-well outcast of + an exalted poor family, that gambler, blackmailer and merry rogue, Don + Antonio Moliterno, comrade and teacher of this ductile Valentine since the + later days of adolescence. They had been school-fellows in Rome, and later + roamed Europe together unleashed, discovering worlds of many kinds. + Valentine’s careless mother let her boy go as he liked, and was + often negligent in the matter of remittances: he and his friend learned + ways to raise the wind, becoming expert and making curious affiliations. + At her death there was a small inheritance; she had not been provident. + The little she left went rocketing, and there was the wind to be raised + again: young Corliss had wits and had found that they could supply him—most + of the time—with much more than the necessities of life. He had also + found that he possessed a strong attraction for various women; already—at + twenty-two—his experience was considerable, and, in his way, he + became a specialist. He had a talent; he improved it and his + opportunities. Altogether, he took to the work without malice and with a + light heart. . . . + </p> + <p> + He sealed the envelope, rang for a boy, gave him the letter to post, and + directed that the apartment should be set to rights. It was not that in + which he had received Ray Vilas. Corliss had moved to rooms on another + floor of the hotel, the day after that eccentric and somewhat ominous + person had called to make an “investment.” Ray’s shadowy + forebodings concerning that former apartment had encountered satire: + Corliss was a “materialist” and, at the mildest estimate, an + unusually practical man, but he would never sleep in a bed with its foot + toward the door; southern Italy had seeped into him. He changed his rooms, + a measure of which Don Antonio Moliterno would have wholly approved. + Besides, these were as comfortable as the others, and so like them as even + to confirm Ray’s statement concerning “A Reading from Homer”: + evidently this work had been purchased by the edition. + </p> + <p> + A boy came to announce that his “roadster” waited for him at + the hotel entrance, and Corliss put on a fur motoring coat and cap, and + went downstairs. A door leading from the hotel bar into the lobby was + open, and, as Corliss passed it, there issued a mocking shout: + </p> + <p> + “Tor’dor! Oh, look at the Tor’dor! Ain’t he the + handsome Spaniard!” + </p> + <p> + Ray Vilas stumbled out, tousled, haggard, waving his arms in absurd and + meaningless gestures; an amused gallery of tipplers filling the doorway + behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Goin’ take Carmen buggy ride in the country, ain’t he? + Good ole Tor’dor!” he quavered loudly, clutching Corliss’s + shoulder. “How much you s’pose he pays f’ that + buzz-buggy by the day, jeli’m’n? Naughty Tor’dor, stole + thousand dollars from me—makin’ presents—diamond + cresses. Tor’dor, I hear you been playing cards. Tha’s sn’t + nice. Tor’dor, you’re not a goo’ boy at all—<i>you</i> + know you oughtn’t waste Dick Lindley’s money like that!” + </p> + <p> + Corliss set his open hand upon the drunkard’s breast and sent him + gyrating and plunging backward. Some one caught the grotesque figure as it + fell. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God,” screamed Ray, “I haven’t got a gun + on me! He <i>knows</i> I haven’t got my gun with me! <i>Why</i> + haven’t I got my gun with me?” + </p> + <p> + They hustled him away, and Corliss, enraged and startled, passed on. As he + sped the car up Corliss Street, he decided to anticipate his letter to + Moliterno by a cable. He had stayed too long. + </p> + <p> + Cora looked charming in a new equipment for November motoring; yet it + cannot be said that either of them enjoyed the drive. They lunched a dozen + miles out from the city at an establishment somewhat in the nature of a + roadside inn; and, although its cuisine was quite unknown to Cora’s + friend, Mrs. Villard (an eager amateur of the table), they were served + with a meal of such unusual excellence that the waiter thought it a + thousand pities patrons so distinguished should possess such poor + appetites. + </p> + <p> + They returned at about three in the afternoon, and Cora descended from the + car wearing no very amiable expression. + </p> + <p> + “Why won’t you come in now?” she asked, looking at him + angrily. “We’ve got to talk things out. We’ve settled + nothing whatever. I want to know why you can’t stop.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got some matters to attend to, and——” + </p> + <p> + “What matters?” She shot him a glance of fierce skepticism. + </p> + <p> + “Are you packing to get out?” + </p> + <p> + “Cora!” he cried reproachfully, “how can you say things + like that to <i>me</i>!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “Oh, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least! + How do <i>I</i> know what you’ll do? For all I know, you may be just + that kind of a man. You <i>said</i> you ought to be going——” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he explained, gently, “I didn’t say I + meant to go. I said only that I thought I ought to, because Moliterno will + be needing me in Basilicata. I ought to be there, since it appears that no + more money is to be raised here. I ought to be superintending operations + in the oil-field, so as to make the best use of the little I have raised.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” she laughed. “Of course <i>I</i> didn’t + have anything to do with it!” + </p> + <p> + He sighed deeply. “You know perfectly well that I appreciate all you + did. We don’t seem to get on very well to-day——” + </p> + <p> + “No!” She laughed again, bitterly. “So you think you’ll + be going, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “To my rooms to write some necessary letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not to pack your trunk?” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he returned, goaded; “sometimes you’re + just impossible. I’ll come to-morrow forenoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don’t bring the car. I’m tired of motoring and + tired of lunching in that rotten hole. We can talk just as well in the + library. Papa’s better, and that little fiend will be in school + to-morrow. Come out about ten.” + </p> + <p> + He started the machine. “Don’t forget I love you,” he + called in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + She stood looking after him as the car dwindled down the street. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + She walked up the path to the house, her face thoughtful, as with a + tiresome perplexity. In her own room, divesting herself of her wraps, she + gave the mirror a long scrutiny. It offered the picture of a girl with a + hard and dreary air; but Cora saw something else, and presently, though + the dreariness remained, the hardness softened to a great compassion. She + suffered: a warm wave of sorrow submerged her, and she threw herself upon + the bed and wept long and silently for herself. + </p> + <p> + At last her eyes dried, and she lay staring at the ceiling. The doorbell + rang, and Sarah, the cook, came to inform her that Mr. Richard Lindley was + below. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I’m out.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t,” returned Sarah. “Done told him you was + home.” And she departed firmly. + </p> + <p> + Thus abandoned, the prostrate lady put into a few words what she felt + about Sarah, and, going to the door, whisperingly summoned in Laura, who + was leaving the sick-room, across the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Richard is downstairs. Will you go and tell him I’m sick in + bed—or dead? Anything to make him go.” And, assuming Laura’s + acquiescence, Cora went on, without pause: “Is father worse? What’s + the matter with you, Laura?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. He’s a little better, Miss Peirce thinks.” + </p> + <p> + “You look ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Then run along like a duck and get rid of that old bore for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Cora—please see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Not me! I’ve got too much to think about to bother with him.” + </p> + <p> + Laura walked to the window and stood with her back to her sister, + apparently interested in the view of Corliss Street there presented. + “Cora,” she said, “why don’t you marry him and + have done with all this?” + </p> + <p> + Cora hooted. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Why not marry him as soon as you can get ready? Why don’t + you go down now and tell him you will? Why not, Cora?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d as soon marry a pail of milk—yes, tepid milk, + skimmed! I——” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you realize how kind he’d be to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about that,” said Cora moodily. “He + might object to some things—but it doesn’t matter, because I’m + not going to try him. I don’t mind a man’s being a fool, but I + can’t stand the absent-minded breed of idiot. I’ve worn his + diamond in the pendant right in his eyes for weeks; he’s never once + noticed it enough even to ask me about the pendant, but bores me to death + wanting to know why I won’t wear the ring! Anyhow, what’s the + use talking about him? He couldn’t marry me right now, even if I + wanted him to—not till he begins to get something on the investment + he made with Val. Outside of that, he’s got nothing except his rooms + at his mother’s; she hasn’t much either; and if Richard should + lose what he put in with Val, he couldn’t marry for years, probably. + That’s what made him so obstinate about it. No; if I ever marry + right off the reel it’s got to be somebody with——” + </p> + <p> + “Cora”—Laura still spoke from the window, not turning—“aren’t + you tired of it all, of this getting so upset about one man and then + another and——” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Tired</i>!” Cora uttered the word in a repressed fury of + emphasis. “I’m sick of <i>everything</i>! I don’t care + for anything or anybody on this earth—except—except you and + mamma. I thought I was going to love Val. I thought I <i>did</i>—but + oh, my Lord, I don’t! I don’t think I <i>can</i> care any + more. Or else there isn’t any such thing as love. How can anybody + tell whether there is or not? You get kind of crazy over a man and want to + go the limit—or marry him perhaps—or sometimes you just want + to make him crazy about you—and then you get over it—and what + is there left but hell!” She choked with a sour laugh. “Ugh! + For heaven’s sake, Laura, don’t make me talk. Everything’s + gone to the devil and I’ve got to think. The best thing you can do + is to go down and get rid of Richard for me. I <i>can’t</i> see him!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Laura, and went to the door. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a darling,” whispered Cora, kissing her quickly. + “Tell him I’m in a raging headache—make him think I + wanted to see him, but you wouldn’t let me, because I’m too + ill.” She laughed. “Give me a little time, old dear: I may + decide to take him yet!” + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs. Madison who informed the waiting Richard that Cora was unable + to see him, because she was “lying down”; and the young man, + after properly inquiring about Mr. Madison, went blankly forth. + </p> + <p> + Hedrick was stalking the front yard, mounted at a great height upon a pair + of stilts. He joined the departing visitor upon the sidewalk and honoured + him with his company, proceeding storkishly beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Been to see Cora?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Hedrick.” + </p> + <p> + “What’d you want to see her about?” asked the frank + youth seriously. + </p> + <p> + Richard was able to smile. “Nothing in particular, Hedrick.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t come to tell her about something?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever, my dear sir. I wished merely the honour of seeing + her and chatting with her upon indifferent subjects.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see her?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m sorry to——” + </p> + <p> + “She’s home, all right,” Hedrick took pleasure in + informing him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She was lying down and I told your mother not to disturb her.” + </p> + <p> + “Worn out with too much automobile riding, I expect,” Hedrick + sniffed. “She goes out about every day with this Corliss in his + hired roadster.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence. Not far from Mrs. Lindley’s, Hedrick + abruptly became vocal in an artificial laugh. Richard was obviously + intended to inquire into its cause, but, as he did not, Hedrick, after + laughing hollowly for some time, volunteered the explanation: + </p> + <p> + “I played a pretty good trick on you last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Odd I didn’t know it.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s why it was good. You’d never guess it in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I believe I shouldn’t. You see what makes it so hard, + Hedrick, is that I can’t even remember seeing you, last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody saw me. Somebody heard me though, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “The nigger that works at your mother’s—Joe.” + </p> + <p> + “What about it? Were you teasing Joe?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was you I was after.” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Did you get me?” + </p> + <p> + Hedrick made another somewhat ghastly pretence of mirth. “Well, I + guess I’ve had about all the fun out of it I’m going to. Might + as well tell you. It was that book of Laura’s you thought she sent + you.” + </p> + <p> + Richard stopped short; whereupon Hedrick turned clumsily, and began to + stalk back in the direction from which they had come. + </p> + <p> + “That book—I thought she—sent me?” Lindley + repeated, stammering. + </p> + <p> + “She never sent it,” called the boy, continuing to walk away. + “She kept it hid, and I found it. I faked her into writing your name + on a sheet of paper, and made you think she’d sent the old thing to + you. I just did it for a joke on you.” + </p> + <p> + With too retching an effort to simulate another burst of merriment, he + caught the stump of his right stilt in a pavement crack, wavered, cut in + the air a figure like a geometrical proposition gone mad, and came + whacking to earth in magnificent disaster. + </p> + <p> + Richard took him to Mrs. Lindley for repairs. She kept him until dark: + Hedrick was bandaged, led, lemonaded and blandished. + </p> + <p> + Never in his life had he known such a listener. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + </h2> + <p> + That was a long night for Cora Madison, and the morning found her yellow. + She made a poor breakfast, and returned from the table to her own room, + but after a time descended restlessly and wandered from one room to + another, staring out of the windows. Laura had gone out; Mrs. Madison was + with her husband, whom she seldom left; Hedrick had departed ostensibly + for school; and the house was as still as a farm in winter—an + intolerable condition of things for an effervescent young woman whose diet + was excitement. Cora, drumming with her fingers upon a window in the + owl-haunted cell, made noises with her throat, her breath and her lips not + unsuggestive of a sputtering fuse. She was heavily charged. + </p> + <p> + “Now what in thunder do <i>you</i> want?” she inquired of an + elderly man who turned in from the sidewalk and with serious steps + approached the house. + </p> + <p> + Pryor, having rung, found himself confronted with the lady he had come to + seek. Ensued the moment of strangers meeting: invisible antennae extended + and touched;—at the contact, Cora’s drew in, and she looked + upon him without graciousness. + </p> + <p> + “I just called,” he said placatively, smiling as if some + humour lurked in his intention, “to ask how your father is. I heard + downtown he wasn’t getting along quite so well.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s better this morning, thanks,” said Cora, preparing + to close the door. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I’d just stop and ask about him. I heard he’d + had another bad spell—kind of a second stroke.” + </p> + <p> + “That was night before last. The doctor thinks he’s improved + very much since then.” + </p> + <p> + The door was closing; he coughed hastily, and detained it by speaking + again. “I’ve called several times to inquire about him, but I + believe it’s the first time I’ve had the pleasure of speaking + to you, Miss Madison. I’m Mr. Pryor.” She appeared to find no + comment necessary, and he continued: “Your father did a little + business for me, several years ago, and when I was here on my vacation, + this summer, I was mighty sorry to hear of his sickness. I’ve had a + nice bit of luck lately and got a second furlough, so I came out to spend + a couple of weeks and Thanksgiving with my married daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Cora supposed that it must be very pleasant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he returned. “But I was mighty sorry to hear your + father wasn’t much better than when I left. The truth is, I wanted + to have a talk with him, and I’ve been reproaching myself a good + deal that I didn’t go ahead with it last summer, when he was well, + only I thought then it mightn’t be necessary—might be + disturbing things without much reason.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid you can’t have a talk with him now,” + she said. “The doctor says——” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know,” said Pryor, “of course. I wonder”—he + hesitated, smiling faintly—“I wonder if I could have it with + you instead.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn’t business,” he laughed, observing her + expression. “That is, not exactly.” His manner became very + serious. “It’s about a friend of mine—at least, a man I + know pretty well. Miss Madison, I saw you driving out through the park + with him, yesterday noon, in an automobile. Valentine Corliss.” + </p> + <p> + Cora stared at him. Honesty, friendliness, and grave concern were + disclosed to her scrutiny. There was no mistaking him: he was a good man. + Her mouth opened, and her eyelids flickered as from a too sudden invasion + of light—the look of one perceiving the close approach of a vital + crisis. But there was no surprise in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” she said. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * +</pre> + <p> + . . . . When Corliss arrived, at about eleven o’clock that morning, + Sarah brought him to the library, where he found Cora waiting for him. He + had the air of a man determined to be cheerful under adverse conditions: + he came in briskly, and Cora closed the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Keep away from me,” she said, pushing him back sharply, the + next instant. “I’ve had enough of that for a while I believe.” + </p> + <p> + He sank into a chair, affecting desolation. “Caresses blighted in + the bud! Cora, one would think us really married.” + </p> + <p> + She walked across the floor to a window, turned there, with her back to + the light, and stood facing him, her arms folded. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” he exclaimed, noting this attitude. “Is + it the trial scene from a faded melodrama?” She looked steadily at + him without replying. “What’s it all about to-day?” he + asked lightly. “I’ll try to give you the proper cues if you’ll + indicate the general nature of the scene, Cora mine.” + </p> + <p> + She continued to look at him in silence. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very effective,” he observed. “Brings out + the figure, too. Do forgive me if you’re serious, dear lady, but + never in my life was I able to take the folded-arms business seriously. It + was used on the stage of all countries so much that I believe most + new-school actors have dropped it. They think it lacks genuineness.” + </p> + <p> + Cora waited a moment longer, then spoke. “How much chance have I to + get Richard Lindley’s money back from you?” + </p> + <p> + He was astounded. “Oh, I say!” + </p> + <p> + “I had a caller, this morning,” she said, slowly. “He + talked about you—quite a lot! He’s told me several things + about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vilas?” he asked, with a sting in his quick smile. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered coolly. “Much older.” + </p> + <p> + At that he jumped up, stepped quickly close to her, and swept her with an + intense and brilliant scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “Pryor, by God!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “He knows you pretty well,” she said. “So do I now!” + </p> + <p> + He swung away from her, back to his chair, dropped into it and began to + laugh. “Old Pryor! Doddering old Pryor! Doddering old ass of a + Pryor! So he did! Blood of an angel! what a stew, what a stew!” He + rose again, mirthless. “Well, what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + She had begun to tremble, not with fear. “He said a good deal.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what was it? What did he tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you’ll find it plenty!” + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i>!” She pointed at him. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s have it.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me”—she burst out furiously—“he + said you were a professional sharper!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. Old Pryor doesn’t talk like that.” + </p> + <p> + She came toward him. “He told me you were notorious over half of + Europe,” she cried vehemently. “He said he’d arrested + you himself, once, in Rotterdam, for smuggling jewels, and that you were + guilty, but managed to squirm out of it. He said the police had put you + out of Germany and you’d be arrested if you ever tried to go back. + He said there were other places you didn’t dare set foot in, and he + said he could have you arrested in this country any time he wanted to, and + that he was going to do it if he found you’d been doing anything + wrong. Oh, yes, he told me a few things!” + </p> + <p> + He caught her by the shoulder. “See here, Cora, do you believe all + this tommy-rot?” + </p> + <p> + She shook his hand off instantly. “Believe it? I know it! There isn’t + a straight line in your whole soul and mind: you’re crooked all + over. You’ve been crooked with <i>me</i> from the start. The moment + that man began to speak, I knew every word of it was true. He came to me + because he thought it was right: he hasn’t anything against you on + his own account; he said he <i>liked</i> you! I <i>knew</i> it was true, I + tell you.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to put his hand on her shoulder again, beginning to speak + remonstratingly, but she cried out in a rage, broke away from him, and ran + to the other end of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Keep away! Do you suppose I like you to touch me? He told me you + always had been a wonder with women! Said you were famous for `handling + them the right way’—using them! Ah, that was pleasant + information for <i>me</i>, wasn’t it! Yes, I could have confirmed + him on that point. He wanted to know if I thought you’d been doing + anything of that sort here. What he meant was: Had you been using me?” + </p> + <p> + “What did you tell him?” The question rang sharply on the + instant. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! That gets into you, does it?” she returned bitterly. + “You can’t overdo your fear of that man, I think, but <i>I</i> + didn’t tell him anything. I just listened and thanked him for the + warning, and said I’d have nothing more to do with you. How <i>could</i> + I tell him? Wasn’t it I that made papa lend you his name, and got + Richard to hand over his money? Where does that put <i>me</i>?” She + choked; sobs broke her voice. “Every—every soul in town would + point me out as a laughing-stock—the easiest fool out of the asylum! + Do you suppose <i>I</i> want you arrested and the whole thing in the + papers? What I want is Richard’s money back, and I’m going to + have it!” + </p> + <p> + “Can you be quiet for a moment and listen?” he asked gravely. + </p> + <p> + “If you’ll tell me what chance I have to get it back.” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he said, “you don’t want it back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh? Don’t I?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” He smiled faintly, and went on. “Now, all this + nonsense of old Pryor’s isn’t worth denying. I have met him + abroad; that much is true—and I suppose I have rather a gay + reputation——” + </p> + <p> + She uttered a jeering shout. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” he said. “I told you I’d cut quite a + swathe, when I first talked to you about myself. Let it go for the present + and come down to this question of Lindley’s investment——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That’s what I want you to come down to.” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as Lindley paid in his check I gave him his stock + certificates, and cabled the money to be used at once in the development + of the oil-fields——” + </p> + <p> + “What! That man told me you’d `promoted’ a South + American rubber company once, among people of the American colony in + Paris. The details he gave me sounded strangely familiar!” + </p> + <p> + “You’d as well be patient, Cora. Now, that money has probably + been partially spent, by this time, on tools and labour and——” + </p> + <p> + “What are you trying to——” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll show you. But first I’d like you to understand + that nothing can be done to me. There’s nothing `on’ me! I’ve + acted in good faith, and if the venture in oil is unsuccessful, and the + money lost, I can’t be held legally responsible, nor can any one + prove that I am. I could bring forty witnesses from Naples to swear they + have helped to bore the wells. I’m safe as your stubborn friend, Mr. + Trumble, himself. But now then, suppose that old Pryor is right—as + of course he isn’t—suppose it, merely for a moment, because it + will aid me to convey something to your mind. If I were the kind of man he + says I am, and, being such a man, had planted the money out of reach, for + my own use, what on earth would induce me to give it back?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” she groaned. “I knew you wouldn’t!” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said quietly, “it would be impossible. We + must go on supposing for a moment: if I had put that money away, I might + be contemplating a departure——” + </p> + <p> + “You’d better!” she cried fiercely. “He’s + going to find out everything you’ve been doing. He said so. He’s + heard a rumour that you were trying to raise money here; he told me so, + and said he’d soon——” + </p> + <p> + “The better reason for not delaying, perhaps. Cora, see here!” + He moved nearer her. “Wouldn’t I need a lot of money if I + expected to have a beautiful lady to care for, and——” + </p> + <p> + “You idiot!” she screamed. “Do you think I’m going + with you?” + </p> + <p> + He flushed heavily. “Well, aren’t you?” He paused, to + stare at her, as she wrung her hands and sobbed with hysterical laughter. + “I thought,” he went on, slowly, “that you would + possibly even insist on that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord, Lord, Lord!” She stamped her foot, and with both + hands threw the tears from her eyes in wide and furious gestures. “He + told me you were married——” + </p> + <p> + “Did you let him think you hadn’t known that?” demanded + Corliss. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I didn’t let him think <i>anything</i>! He said + you would never be able to get a divorce: that your wife hates you too + much to get one from you, and that she’ll never——” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Cora,” he said harshly, “I told you I’d + been married; I told you before I ever kissed you. You understood + perfectly——” + </p> + <p> + “I did not! You said you <i>had</i> been. You laughed about it. You + made me think it was something that had happened a long time ago. I + thought of course you’d been divorced——” + </p> + <p> + “But I told you——” + </p> + <p> + “You told me after! And then you made me think you could easily get + one—that it was only a matter of form and——” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he interrupted, “you’re the most elaborate + little self-deceiver I ever knew. I don’t believe you’ve ever + faced yourself for an honest moment in——” + </p> + <p> + “Honest! <i>you</i> talk about `honest’! You use that word and + face <i>me</i>?” + </p> + <p> + He came closer, meeting her distraught eyes squarely. “You love to + fool yourself, Cora, but the role of betrayed virtue doesn’t suit + you very well. You’re young, but you’re a pretty experienced + woman for all that, and you haven’t done anything you didn’t + want to. You’ve had both eyes open every minute, and we both know + it. You are just as wise as——” + </p> + <p> + “You’re lying and <i>you</i> know it! What did <i>I</i> want + to make Richard go into your scheme for? You made a fool of me.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not speaking of the money now,” he returned + quickly. “You’d better keep your mind on the subject. Are you + coming away with me?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “What <i>for</i>?” he echoed incredulously. “I want to + know if you’re coming. I promise you I’ll get a divorce as + soon as it’s possible——” + </p> + <p> + “Val,” she said, in a tone lower than she had used since he + entered the room; “Val, do you want me to come?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Much?” She looked at him eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do.” His answer sounded quite genuine. + </p> + <p> + “Will it hurt you if I don’t?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it will.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven for that,” she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “You honestly mean you won’t?” + </p> + <p> + “It makes me sick with laughing just to imagine it! I’ve done + some hard little thinking, lately, my friend—particularly last + night, and still more particularly this morning since that man was here. I’d + cut my throat before I’d go with you. If you had your divorce I + wouldn’t marry you—not if you were the last man on earth!” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he cried, aghast, “what’s the matter with + you? You’re too many for me sometimes. I thought I understood a few + kinds of women! Now listen: I’ve offered to take you, and you can’t + say——” + </p> + <p> + “Offered!” It was she who came toward him now. She came + swiftly, shaking with rage, and struck him upon the breast. “`Offered’! + Do you think I want to go trailing around Europe with you while Dick + Lindley’s money lasts? What kind of a life are you `offering’ + me? Do you suppose I’m going to have everybody saying Cora Madison + ran away with a jail-bird? Do you think I’m going to dodge decent + people in hotels and steamers, and leave a name in this town that—Oh, + get out! I don’t want any help from you! I can take care of myself, + I tell you; and I don’t have to marry <i>you</i>! I’d kill you + if I could—you made a fool of me!” Her voice rose shrilly. + “You made a fool of me!” + </p> + <p> + “Cora——” he began, imploringly. + </p> + <p> + “You made a fool of me!” She struck him again. + </p> + <p> + “Strike me,” he said. “I love you!” + </p> + <p> + “Actor!” + </p> + <p> + “Cora, I want you. I want you more than I ever——” + </p> + <p> + She screamed with hysterical laughter. “Liar, liar, liar! The same + old guff. Don’t you even see it’s too late for the old rotten + tricks?” + </p> + <p> + “Cora, I want you to come.” + </p> + <p> + “You poor, conceited fool,” she cried, “do you think you’re + the only man I can marry?” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he gasped, “you wouldn’t do that!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, get out! Get out <i>now</i>! I’m tired of you. I never + want to hear you speak again.” + </p> + <p> + “Cora,” he begged. “For the last time——” + </p> + <p> + “<i>No</i>! You made a fool of me!” She beat him upon the + breast, striking again and again, with all her strength. “Get out, I + tell you! I’m through with you!” + </p> + <p> + He tried to make her listen, to hold her wrists: he could do neither. + </p> + <p> + “Get out—get out!” she screamed. She pushed and dragged + him toward the door, and threw it open. Her voice thickened; she choked + and coughed, but kept on screaming: “Get out, I tell you! Get out, + get out, damn you! Damn you, <i>damn</i> you! get out!” + </p> + <p> + Still continuing to strike him with all her strength, she forced him out + of the door. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + </h2> + <p> + Cora lost no time. Corliss had not closed the front door behind him before + she was running up the stairs. Mrs. Madison, emerging from her husband’s + room, did not see her daughter’s face; for Cora passed her quickly, + looking the other way. + </p> + <p> + “Was anything the matter?” asked the mother anxiously. “I + thought I heard——” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing in the world,” Cora flung back over her shoulder. + “Mr. Corliss said I couldn’t imitate Sara Bernhardt, and I + showed him I could.” She began to hum; left a fragment of “rag-time” + floating behind her as she entered her own room; and Mrs. Madison, + relieved, returned to the invalid. + </p> + <p> + Cora changed her clothes quickly. She put on a pale gray skirt and coat + for the street, high shoes and a black velvet hat, very simple. The + costume was almost startlingly becoming to her: never in her life had she + looked prettier. She opened her small jewel-case, slipped all her rings + upon her fingers; then put the diamond crescent, the pendant, her watch, + and three or four other things into the flat, envelope-shaped bag of soft + leather she carried when shopping. After that she brought from her + clothes-pantry a small travelling-bag and packed it hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + Laura, returning from errands downtown and glancing up at Cora’s + window, perceived an urgently beckoning, gray-gloved hand, and came at + once to her sister’s room. + </p> + <p> + The packed bag upon the bed first caught her eye; then Cora’s + attire, and the excited expression of Cora’s face, which was + high-flushed and moist, glowing with a great resolve. + </p> + <p> + “What’s happened?” asked Laura quickly. “You look + exactly like a going-away bride. What——” + </p> + <p> + Cora spoke rapidly: “Laura, I want you to take this bag and keep it + in your room till a messenger-boy comes for it. When the bell rings, go to + the door yourself, and hand it to him. Don’t give Hedrick a chance + to go to the door. Just give it to the boy;—and don’t say + anything to mamma about it. I’m going downtown and I may not be + back.” + </p> + <p> + Laura began to be frightened. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you want to do, Cora?” she asked, trembling. + </p> + <p> + Cora was swift and business-like. “See here, Laura, I’ve got + to keep my head about me. You can do a great deal for me, if you won’t + be emotional just now, and help me not to be. I can’t afford it, + because I’ve got to do things, and I’m going to do them just + as quickly as I can, and get it over. If I wait any longer I’ll go + insane. I <i>can</i>’T wait! You’ve been a wonderful sister to + me; I’ve always counted on you, and you’ve never once gone + back on me. Right now, I need you to help me more than I ever have in my + life. Will you——” + </p> + <p> + “But I must know——” + </p> + <p> + “No, you needn’t! I’ll tell you just this much: I’ve + got myself in a devil of a mess——” + </p> + <p> + Laura threw her arms round her: “Oh, my dear, dear little sister!” + she cried. + </p> + <p> + But Cora drew away. “Now that’s just what you mustn’t + do. I can’t stand it! You’ve got to be <i>quiet</i>. I can’t——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” Laura said hurriedly. “I will. I’ll do + whatever you say.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s perfectly simple: all I want you to do is to take charge + of my travelling-bag, and, when a messenger-boy comes, give it to him + without letting anybody know anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I’ve got to know where you’re going—I can’t + let you go and not——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you can! Besides, you’ve promised to. I’m not + going to do anything foolish ——” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not tell me?” Laura began. She went on, imploring + Cora to confide in her, entreating her to see their mother—to do a + dozen things altogether outside of Cora’s plans. + </p> + <p> + “You’re wasting your breath, Laura,” said the younger + sister, interrupting, “and wasting my time. You’re in the + dark: you think I’m going to run away with Val Corliss and you’re + wrong. I sent him out of the house for good, a while ago——” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven for that!” cried Laura. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to take care of myself,” Cora went on + rapidly. “I’m going to get out of the mess I’m in, and + you’ve got to let me do it my own way. I’ll send you a note + from downtown. You see that the messenger——” + </p> + <p> + She was at the door, but Laura caught her by the sleeve, protesting and + beseeching. + </p> + <p> + Cora turned desperately. “See here. I’ll come back in two + hours and tell you all about it. If I promise that, will you promise to + send me the bag by the——” + </p> + <p> + “But if you’re coming back you won’t need——” + </p> + <p> + Cora spoke very quietly. “I’ll go to pieces in a moment. + Really, I do think I’d better jump out of the window and have it + over.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll send the bag,” Laura quavered, “if you’ll + promise to come back in two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise!” + </p> + <p> + Cora gave her a quick embrace, a quick kiss, and, dry-eyed, ran out of the + room, down the stairs, and out of the house. + </p> + <p> + She walked briskly down Corliss Street. It was a clear day, bright noon, + with an exhilarating tang in the air, and a sky so glorious that people + outdoors were continually conscious of the blue overhead, and looked up at + it often. An autumnal cheerfulness was abroad, and pedestrians showed it + in their quickened steps, in their enlivened eyes, and frequent smiles, + and in the colour of their faces. But none showed more colour or a gayer + look than Cora. She encountered many whom she knew, for it was indeed a + day to be stirring, and she nodded and smiled her way all down the long + street, thinking of what these greeted people would say to-morrow. “<i>I</i> + saw her yesterday, walking down Corliss Street, about noon, in a gray suit + and looking fairly radiant!” Some of those she met were enemies she + had chastened; she prophesied their remarks with accuracy. Some were old + suitors, men who had desired her; one or two had place upon her long list + of boy-sweethearts: she gave the same gay, friendly nod to each of them, + and foretold his morrow’s thoughts of her, in turn. Her greeting of + Mary Kane was graver, as was aesthetically appropriate, Mr. Wattling’s + engagement having been broken by that lady, immediately after his drive to + the Country Club for tea. Cora received from the beautiful jilt a + salutation even graver than her own, which did not confound her. + </p> + <p> + Halfway down the street was a drug-store. She went in, and obtained + appreciative permission to use the telephone. She came out well satisfied, + and went swiftly on her way. Ten minutes later, she opened the door of + Wade Trumble’s office. + </p> + <p> + He was alone; her telephone had caught him in the act of departing for + lunch. But he had been glad to wait—glad to the verge of agitation. + </p> + <p> + “By George, Cora!” he exclaimed, as she came quickly in and + closed the door, “but you <i>can</i> look stunning! Believe me, that’s + some get-up. But let me tell you right here and now, before you begin, it’s + no use your tackling me again on the oil proposition. If there was any + chance of my going into it which there wasn’t, not one on earth—why, + the very fact of your asking me would have stopped me. I’m no Dick + Lindley, I beg to inform you: I don’t spend my money helping a girl + that I want, myself, to make a hit with another man. You treated me like a + dog about that, right in the street, and you needn’t try it again, + because I won’t stand for it. You can’t play <i>me</i>, Cora!” + </p> + <p> + “Wade,” she said, coming closer, and looking at him + mysteriously, “didn’t you tell me to come to you when I got + through playing?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” He grew very red, took a step back from her, staring + at her distrustfully, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got through playing”, she said in a low voice. + “And I’ve come to you.” + </p> + <p> + He was staggered. “You’ve come——” he said, + huskily. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, Wade.” + </p> + <p> + He had flushed, but now the colour left his small face, and he grew very + white. “I don’t believe you mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” she said. “I was rotten to you about that oil + nonsense. It <i>was</i> nonsense, nothing on earth but nonsense. I tell + you frankly I was a fool. I didn’t care the snap of my finger for + Corliss, but—oh, what’s the use of pretending? You were always + such a great `business man,’ always so absorbed in business, and put + it before everything else in the world. You cared for me, but you cared + for business more than for me. Well, no woman likes <i>that</i>, Wade. I’ve + come to tell you the whole thing: I can’t stand it any longer. I + suffered horribly because—because——” She faltered. + “Wade, that was no way to <i>win</i> a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Cora!” His incredulity was strong. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I hated you for it, Wade. Yes, I did think that; I’m + telling you everything, you see just blurting it out as it comes, Wade. + Well, Corliss asked me to help him, and it struck me I’d show that I + could understand a business deal, myself. Wade, this is pretty hard to + say, I was such a little fool, but you ought to know it. You’ve got + a right to know it, Wade: I thought if I put through a thing like that, it + would make a tremendous hit with you, and that then I could say: `So this + is the kind of thing you put ahead of <i>me</i>, is it? Simple little + things like this, that <i>I</i> can do, myself, by turning over my little + finger!’ So I got Richard to go in—that was easy; and then it + struck me that the crowning triumph of the whole thing would be to get you + to come in yourself. That <i>would</i> be showing you, I thought! But you + wouldn’t: you put me in my place—and I was angry—I never + was so angry in my life, and I showed it.” Tears came into her + voice. “Oh, Wade,” she said, softly, “it was the very + wildness of my anger that showed what I really felt.” + </p> + <p> + “About—about <i>me</i>?” His incredulity struggled with + his hope. He stepped close to her. + </p> + <p> + “What an awful fool I’ve been,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I thought I could show you I was your <i>equal</i>! And look + what it’s got me into, Wade!” + </p> + <p> + “What has it got you into, Cora?” + </p> + <p> + “One thing worth while: I can see what I really am when I try to + meet you on your own ground.” She bent her head, humbly, then lifted + it, and spoke rapidly. “All the rest is dreadful, Wade. I had a + distrust of Corliss from the first; I didn’t like him, but I took + him up because I thought he offered the chance to show <i>you</i> what I + could do. Well, it’s got me into a most horrible mess. He’s a + swindler, a rank——” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” Wade shouted. “Cora, you’re talking + out now like a real woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen. I got horribly tired of him after a week or so, but I’d + promised to help him and I didn’t break with him; but yesterday I + just couldn’t stand him any longer and I told him so, and sent him + away. Then, this morning, an old man came to the house, a man named Pryor, + who knew him and knew his record, and he told me all about him.” She + narrated the interview. + </p> + <p> + “But you had sent Corliss away first?” Wade asked, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday, I tell you.” She set her hand on the little man’s + shoulder. “Wade, there’s bound to be a scandal over all this. + Even if Corliss gets away without being arrested and tried, the whole + thing’s bound to come <i>out</i>. I’ll be the laughing-stock + of the town—and I deserve to be: it’s all through having been + ridiculous idiot enough to try and impress you with my business + brilliancy. Well, I can’t stand it!” + </p> + <p> + “Cora, do you——” He faltered. + </p> + <p> + She leaned toward him, her hand still on his shoulder, her exquisite voice + lowered, and thrilling in its sweetness. “Wade, I’m through + playing. I’ve come to you at last because you’ve utterly + conquered me. If you’ll take me away to-day, I’ll <i>marry</i> + you to-day!” + </p> + <p> + He gave a shout that rang again from the walls. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me?” she whispered; then smiled upon his rapture + indulgently. + </p> + <p> + Rapture it was. With the word “marry,” his incredulity sped + forever. But for a time he was incoherent: he leaped and hopped, spoke + broken bits of words, danced fragmentarily, ate her with his eyes, + partially embraced her, and finally kissed her timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Such a wedding we’ll have!” he shouted, after that. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she said sharply. “We’ll be married by a + Justice of the Peace and not a soul there but us, and it will be now, or + it never will be! If you don’t——” + </p> + <p> + He swore she should have her way. + </p> + <p> + “Then we’ll be out of this town on the three o’clock + train this afternoon,” she said. She went on with her plans, while + he, growing more accustomed to his privilege, caressed her as he would. + “You shall have your way,” she said, “in everything + except the wedding-journey. That’s got to be a long one—I won’t + come back here till people have forgotten all about this Corliss mix-up. I’ve + never been abroad, and I want you to take me. We can stay a long, long + time. I’ve brought nothing—we’ll get whatever we want in + New York before we sail.” + </p> + <p> + He agreed to everything. He had never really hoped to win her; paradise + had opened, dazing him with glory: he was astounded, mad with joy, and + abjectly his lady’s servant. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t you better run along and get the license?” she + laughed. “We’ll have to be married on the way to the train.” + “Cora!” he gasped. “You angel!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll wait here for you,” she smiled. “There won’t + be too much time.” + </p> + <p> + He obtained a moderate control of his voice and feet. “Enfield—that’s + my cashier—he’ll be back from his lunch at one-thirty. Tell + him about us, if I’m not here by then. Tell him he’s got to + manage somehow. Good-bye till I come back Mrs. Trumble!” + </p> + <p> + At the door he turned. “Oh, have you—you——” + He paused uncertainly. “Have you sent Richard Lindley any word about——” + </p> + <p> + “Wade!” She gave his inquiry an indulgent amusement. “If + I’m not worrying about him, do you think you need to?” + </p> + <p> + “I meant about——” + </p> + <p> + “You funny thing,” she said. “I never had any idea of + really marrying him; it wasn’t anything but one of those silly + half-engagements, and——” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t mean that,” he said, apologetically. “I + meant about letting him know what this Pryor told you about Corliss, so + that Richard might do something toward getting his money back. We ought to—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, that’s all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I sent him a note. He knows all about it by this time, if he + has been home this morning. You’d better start, Wade. Send a + messenger to our house for my bag. Tell him to bring it here and then take + a note for me. You’d really better start—dear!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Cora</i>!” he shouted, took her in his arms, and was gone. + His departing gait down the corridor to the elevator seemed, from the + sounds, to be a gallop. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, Cora wrote, sealed, and directed a note to Laura. In it she + recounted what Pryor had told her of Corliss; begged Laura and her parents + not to think her heartless in not preparing them for this abrupt marriage. + She was in such a state of nervousness, she wrote, that explanations would + have caused a breakdown. The marriage was a sensible one; she had long + contemplated it as a possibility; and, after thinking it over thoroughly, + she had decided it was the only thing to do. She sent her undying love. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting with this note in her hand when shuffling footsteps + sounded in the corridor; either Wade’s cashier or the messenger, she + supposed. The door-knob turned, a husky voice asking, “Want a drink?” + as the door opened. + </p> + <p> + Cora was not surprised—she knew Vilas’s office was across the + hall from that in which she waited—but she was frightened. + </p> + <p> + Ray stood blinking at her. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” he asked, at last. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + </h2> + <p> + It is probable that he got the truth out of her, perhaps all of it. That + will remain a matter of doubt; Cora’s evidence, if she gave it, not + being wholly trustworthy in cases touching herself. But she felt no need + of mentioning to any one that she had seen her former lover that day. He + had gone before the return of Enfield, Mr. Trumble’s assistant, who + was a little later than usual, it happened; and the extreme nervousness + and preoccupation exhibited by Cora in telling Enfield of his employer’s + new plans were attributed by the cashier to the natural agitation of a + lady about to wed in a somewhat unusual (though sensible) manner. + </p> + <p> + It is the more probable that she told Ray the whole truth, because he + already knew something of Corliss’s record abroad. On the dusty desk + in Ray’s own office lay a letter, received that morning from the + American Consul at Naples, which was luminous upon that subject, and upon + the probabilities of financial returns for the investment of a thousand + dollars in the alleged oil-fields of Basilicata. + </p> + <p> + In addition, Cora had always found it very difficult to deceive Vilas: he + had an almost perfect understanding of a part of her nature; she could + never far mislead him about herself. With her, he was intuitive and jumped + to strange, inconsistent, true conclusions, as women do. He had the art of + reading her face, her gestures; he had learned to listen to the tone of + her voice more than to what she said. In his cups, too, he had fitful but + almost demoniac inspirations for hidden truth. + </p> + <p> + And, remembering that Cora always “got even,” it remains + finally to wonder if she might not have told him everything at the + instance of some shadowy impulse in that direction. There may have been a + luxury in whatever confession she made; perhaps it was not entirely forced + from her, and heaven knows how she may have coloured it. There was an + elusive, quiet satisfaction somewhere in her subsequent expression; it + lurked deep under the surface of the excitement with which she talked to + Enfield of her imminent marital abduction of his small boss. + </p> + <p> + Her agitation, a relic of the unknown interview just past, simmered down + soon, leaving her in a becoming glow of colour, with slender threads of + moisture brilliantly outlining her eyelids. Mr. Enfield, a young, + well-favoured and recent importation from another town, was deliciously + impressed by the charm of the waiting lady. They had not met; and Enfield + wondered how Trumble had compassed such an enormous success as this; and + he wished that he had seen her before matters had gone so far. He thought + he might have had a chance. She seemed pleasantly interested in him, even + as it was—and her eyes were wonderful, with their swift, warm, + direct little plunges into those of a chance comrade of the moment. She + went to the window, in her restlessness, looking down upon the swarming + street below, and the young man, standing beside her, felt her shoulder + most pleasantly though very lightly—in contact with his own, as they + leaned forward, the better to see some curiosity of advertising that + passed. She turned her face to his just then, and told him that he must + come to see her: the wedding journey would be long, she said, but it would + not be forever. + </p> + <p> + Trumble bounded in, shouting that everything was attended to, except + instructions to Enfield, whom he pounded wildly upon the back. He began + signing papers; a stenographer was called from another room of his + offices; and there was half an hour of rapid-fire. Cora’s bag came, + and she gave the bearer the note for Laura; another bag was brought for + Wade; and both bags were carried down to the automobile the bridegroom had + left waiting in the street. Last, came a splendid cluster of orchids for + the bride to wear, and then Wade, with his arm about her, swept her into + the corridor, and the stirred Enfield was left to his own beating heart, + and the fresh, radiant vision of this startling new acquaintance: the + sweet mystery of the look she had thrown back at him over his employer’s + shoulder at the very last. “Do not forget <i>me</i>!” it had + seemed to say. “We shall come back—some day.” + </p> + <p> + The closed car bore the pair to the little grim marriage-shop quickly + enough, though they were nearly run down by a furious police patrol + automobile, at a corner near the Richfield Hotel. Their escape was by a + very narrow margin of safety, and Cora closed her eyes. Then she was + cross, because she had been frightened, and commanded Wade cavalierly to + bid the driver be more careful. + </p> + <p> + Wade obeyed sympathetically. “Of course, though, it wasn’t + altogether his fault,” he said, settling back, his arm round his + lady’s waist. “It’s an outrage for the police to break + their own rules that way. I guess they don’t need to be in a hurry + any more than <i>we</i> do!” + </p> + <p> + The Justice made short work of it. + </p> + <p> + As they stood so briefly before him, there swept across her vision the + memory of what she had always prophesied as her wedding:—a crowded + church, “The Light That Breathed O’er Eden” from an + unseen singer; then the warm air trembling to the Lohengrin march; all + heads turning; the procession down the aisle; herself appearing—climax + of everything—a delicious and brilliant figure: graceful, rosy, shy, + an imperial prize for the groom, who in these foreshadowings had always + been very indistinct. The picture had always failed in outline there: the + bridegroom’s nearest approach to definition had never been clearer + than a composite photograph. The truth is, Cora never in her life wished + to be married. + </p> + <p> + But she was. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + </h2> + <p> + Valentine Corliss had nothing to do but to wait for the money his friend + Antonio would send him by cable. His own cable, anticipating his letter, + had been sent yesterday, when he came back to the hotel, after lunching in + the country with Cora. + </p> + <p> + As he walked down Corliss Street, after his tumultuous interview with her, + he was surprised to find himself physically tremulous: he had not supposed + that an encounter, however violent, with an angry woman could so upset his + nerves. It was no fear of Pryor which shook him. He knew that Pryor did + not mean to cause his arrest—certainly not immediately. Of course, + Pryor knew that Cora would tell him. The old fellow’s move was a + final notification. It meant: “Get out of town within twenty-four + hours.” And Corliss intended to obey. He would have left that + evening, indeed, without the warning; his trunk was packed. + </p> + <p> + He would miss Cora. He had kept a cool head throughout their affair until + the last; but this morning she had fascinated him: and he found himself + passionately admiring the fury of her. She had confused him as he had + never been confused. He thought he had tamed her; thought he owned her; + and the discovery of this mistake was what made him regret that she would + not come away with him. Such a flight, until to-day, had been one of his + apprehensions: but now the thought that it was not to be, brought + something like pain. At least, he felt a vacancy; had a sense of something + lacking. She would have been a bright comrade for the voyage; and he + thought of gestures of hers, turns of the head, tricks of the lovely + voice; and sighed. + </p> + <p> + Of course it was best for him that he could return to his old trails alone + and free; he saw that. Cora would have been a complication and an + embarrassment without predictable end, but she would have been a rare + flame for a while. He wondered what she meant to do; of course she had a + plan. Should he try again, give her another chance? No; there was one + point upon which she had not mystified him: he knew she really hated him. + </p> + <p> + . . . The wind was against the smoke that day; and his spirits rose, as he + walked in the brisk air with the rich sky above him. After all, this + venture upon his native purlieus had been fax from fruitless: he could not + have expected to do much better. He had made his coup; he knew no other + who could have done it. It was a handsome bit of work, in fact, and + possible only to a talented native thoroughly sophisticated in certain + foreign subtleties. He knew himself for a rare combination. + </p> + <p> + He had a glimmer of Richard Lindley beginning at the beginning again to + build a modest fortune: it was the sort of thing the Richard Lindleys were + made for. Corliss was not troubled. Richard had disliked him as a boy; did + not like him now; but Corliss had not taken his money out of malice for + that. The adventurer was not revengeful; he was merely impervious. + </p> + <p> + At the hotel, he learned that Moliterno’s cable had not yet arrived; + but he went to an agency of one of the steamship lines and reserved his + passage, and to a railway ticket office and secured a compartment for + himself on an evening train. Then he returned to his room in the hotel. + </p> + <p> + The mirror over the mantelpiece, in the front room of his suite, showed + him a fine figure of a man: hale, deep-chested, handsome, straight and + cheerful. + </p> + <p> + He nodded to it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old top,” he said, reviewing and summing up his whole + campaign, “not so bad. Not so bad, all in all; not so bad, old top. + Well played indeed!” + </p> + <p> + At a sound of footsteps approaching his door, he turned in casual + expectancy, thinking it might be a boy to notify him that Moliterno’s + cable had arrived. But there was no knock, and the door was flung wide + open. + </p> + <p> + It was Vilas, and he had his gun with him this time. He had two. + </p> + <p> + There was a shallow clothes-closet in the wall near the fireplace, and + Corliss ran in there; but Vilas began to shoot through the door. + </p> + <p> + Mutilated, already a dead man, and knowing it, Corliss came out, and tried + to run into the bedroom. It was no use. + </p> + <p> + Ray saved his last shot for himself. It did the work. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + </h2> + <p> + There is a song of parting, an intentionally pathetic song, which contains + the line, “All the tomorrows shall be as to-day,” meaning + equally gloomy. Young singers, loving this line, take care to pronounce + the words with unusual distinctness: the listener may feel that the + performer has the capacity for great and consistent suffering. It is not, + of course, that youth loves unhappiness, but the appearance of it, its + supposed picturesqueness. Youth runs from what is pathetic, but hangs + fondly upon pathos. It is the idea of sorrow, not sorrow, which charms: + and so the young singer dwells upon those lingering tomorrows, happy in + the conception of a permanent wretchedness incurred in the interest of + sentiment. For youth believes in permanence. + </p> + <p> + It is when we are young that we say, “I shall never,” and + “I shall always,” not knowing that we are only time’s + atoms in a crucible of incredible change. An old man scarce dares say, + “I have never,” for he knows that if he searches he will find, + probably, that he has. “All, all is change.” + </p> + <p> + It was an evening during the winter holidays when Mrs. Lindley, coming to + sit by the fire in her son’s smoking-room, where Richard sat + glooming, narrated her legend of the Devil of Lisieux. It must have been + her legend: the people of Lisieux know nothing of it; but this Richard the + Guileless took it for tradition, as she alleged it, and had no suspicion + that she had spent the afternoon inventing it. + </p> + <p> + She did not begin the recital immediately upon taking her chair, across + the hearth from her son; she led up to it. She was an ample, + fresh-coloured, lively woman; and like her son only in being a kind soul: + he got neither his mortal seriousness nor his dreaminess from her. She was + more than content with Cora’s abandonment of him, though, as + chivalrousness was not demanded of her, she would have preferred that he + should have been the jilt. She thought Richard well off in his release, + even at the price of all his savings. But there was something to hope, + even in that matter, Pryor wrote from Paris encouragingly: he believed + that Moliterno might be frightened or forced into at least a partial + restitution; though Richard would not count upon it, and had “begun + at the beginning” again, as a small-salaried clerk in a bank, + trudging patiently to work in the morning and home in the evening, a + long-faced, tired young man, more absent than ever, lifeless, and with no + interest in anything outside his own broodings. His mother, pleased with + his misfortune in love, was of course troubled that it should cause him to + suffer. She knew she could not heal him; but she also knew that everything + is healed in time, and that sometimes it is possible for people to help + time a little. + </p> + <p> + Her first remark to her son, this evening, was that to the best of her + memory she had never used the word “hellion.” And, upon his + saying gently, no, he thought it probable that she never had, but seeking + no farther and dropping his eyes to the burning wood, apparently under the + impression that the subject was closed, she informed him brusquely that it + was her intention to say it now. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you want to say, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “If I can bring myself to use the word `hellion’,” she + returned, “I’m going to say that of all the heaven-born, + whole-souled and consistent ones I ever knew Hedrick Madison is the King.” + </p> + <p> + “In what new way?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Egerton Villard. Egerton used to be the neatest, best-mannered, + best-dressed boy in town; but he looks and behaves like a Digger Indian + since he’s taken to following Hedrick around. Mrs. Villard says it’s + the greatest sorrow of her life, but she’s quite powerless: the boy + is Hedrick’s slave. The other day she sent a servant after him, and + just bringing him home nearly ruined her limousine. He was solidly covered + with molasses, over his clothes and all, from head to foot, and then he’d + rolled in hay and chicken feathers to be a <i>gnu</i> for Hedrick to kodak + in the African Wilds of the Madisons’ stable. Egerton didn’t + know what a gnu was, but Hedrick told him that was the way to be one, he + said. Then, when they’d got him scraped and boiled, and most of his + hair pulled out, a policemen came to arrest him for stealing the jug of + molasses at a corner grocery.” + </p> + <p> + Richard nodded, and smiled faintly for comment. They sat in silence for a + while. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Mrs. Madison yesterday,” said his mother. “She + seemed very cheerful; her husband is able to talk almost perfectly again, + though he doesn’t get downstairs. Laura reads to him a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded again, his gaze not moving from the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Laura was with her mother,” said Mrs. Lindley. “She + looked very fetching in a black cloth suit and a fur hat—old ones + her sister left, I suspect, but very becoming, for all that. Laura’s + `going out’ more than usual this winter. She’s really the + belle of the holiday dances, I hear. Of course she would be”, she + added, thoughtfully—“now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should she be `now’ more than before?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Laura’s quite blossomed,” Mrs. Lindley answered. + “I think she’s had some great anxieties relieved. Of course + both she and her mother must have worried about Cora as much as they + waited on her. It must be a great burden lifted to have her comfortably + settled, or, at least, disposed of. I thought they both looked better. But + I have a special theory about Laura: I suppose you’ll laugh at me——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would sometimes,” she said wistfully, “so + only you laughed. My idea is that Laura was in love with that poor little + Trumble, too.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” He looked up at that. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; girls fall in love with anybody. I fancy she cared very deeply + for him; but I think she’s a strong, sane woman, now. She’s + about the steadiest, coolest person I know—and I know her better, + lately, than I used to. I think she made up her mind that she’d not + sit down and mope over her unhappiness, and that she’d get over what + caused it; and she took the very best remedy: she began going about, going + everywhere, and she went gayly, too! And I’m sure she’s cured; + I’m sure she doesn’t care the snap of her fingers for Wade + Trumble or any man alive. She’s having a pretty good time, I + imagine: she has everything in the world except money, and she’s + never cared at all about <i>that</i>. She’s young, and she dresses + well—these days—and she’s one of the handsomest girls in + town; she plays like a poet, and she dances well——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Richard;—reflectively, “she does dance + well.” + </p> + <p> + “And from what I hear from Mrs. Villard,” continued his + mother, “I guess she has enough young men in love with her to keep + any girl busy.” + </p> + <p> + He was interested enough to show some surprise. “In love with Laura?” + </p> + <p> + “Four, I hear.” The best of women are sometimes the readiest + with impromptu statistics. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” he said, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Laura has taken to smiling on the world, and the world + smiles back at her. It’s not a bad world about that, Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he sighed. “I suppose not.” + </p> + <p> + “But there’s more than that in this case, my dear son.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there?” + </p> + <p> + The intelligent and gentle matron laughed as though at some unexpected + turn of memory and said: + </p> + <p> + “Speaking of Hedrick, did you ever hear the story of the Devil of + Lisieux, Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not; at least, I don’t remember it.” + </p> + <p> + “Lisieux is a little town in Normandy,” she said. “I was + there a few days with your father, one summer, long ago. It’s a + country full of old stories, folklore, and traditions; and the people + still believe in the Old Scratch pretty literally. This legend was of the + time when he came to Lisieux. The people knew he was coming because a wise + woman had said that he was on the way, and predicted that he would arrive + at the time of the great fair. Everybody was in great distress, because + they knew that whoever looked at him would become bewitched, but, of + course, they had to go to the fair. The wise woman was able to give them a + little comfort; she said some one was coming with the devil, and that the + people must not notice the devil, but keep their eyes fastened on this + other—then they would be free of the fiend’s influence. But, + when the devil arrived at the fair, nobody even looked to see who his + companion was, for the devil was so picturesque, so vivid, all in flaming + scarlet and orange, and he capered and danced and sang so that nobody + could help looking at him—and, after looking once, they couldn’t + look away until they were thoroughly under his spell. So they were all + bewitched, and began to scream and howl and roll on the ground, and turn + on each other and brawl, and `commit all manner of excesses.’ Then + the wise woman was able to exorcise the devil, and he sank into the + ground; but his companion stayed, and the people came to their senses, and + looked, and they saw that it was an angel. The angel had been there all + the time that the fiend was, of course. So they have a saying now, that + there may be angels with us, but we don’t notice them when the devil’s + about.” + </p> + <p> + She did not look at her son as she finished, and she had hurried through + the latter part of her “legend” with increasing timidity. The + parallel was more severe, now that she put it to him, than she intended; + it sounded savage; and she feared she had overshot her mark. Laura, of + course, was the other, the companion; she had been actually a companion + for the vivid sister, everywhere with her at the fair, and never + considered: now she emerged from her overshadowed obscurity, and people + were able to see her as an individual—heretofore she had been merely + the retinue of a flaming Cora. But the “legend” was not very + gallant to Cora! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lindley knew that it hurt her son; she felt it without looking at + him, and before he gave a sign. As it was, he did not speak, but, after a + few moments, rose and went quietly out of the room: then she heard the + front door open and close. She sat by his fire a long, long time and was + sorry—and wondered. + </p> + <p> + When Richard came home from his cold night-prowl in the snowy streets, he + found a sheet of note paper upon his pillow: + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Richard, I didn’t mean that anybody you ever cared + for was a d—-l. I only meant that often the world finds out that + there are lovely people it hasn’t noticed.” + </p> + <p> + . . . He reproached himself, then, for the reproach his leaving her had + been; he had a susceptible and annoying conscience, this unfortunate + Richard. He found it hard to get to sleep, that night; and was kept awake + long after he had planned how he would make up to his mother for having + received her “legend” so freezingly. What kept him awake, + after that, was a dim, rhythmic sound coming from the house next door, + where a holiday dance was in progress—music far away and slender: + fiddle, ‘cello, horn, bassoon, drums, all rollicking away almost the + night-long, seeping through the walls to his restless pillow. Finally, + when belated drowsiness came, the throbbing tunes mingled with his + half-dreams, and he heard the light shuffling of multitudinous feet over + the dancing-floor, and became certain that Laura’s were among them. + He saw her, gliding, swinging, laughing, and happy and the picture did not + please him: it seemed to him that she would have been much better employed + sitting in black to write of a hopeless love. Coquetting with four suitors + was not only inconsistent; it was unbecoming. It “suited Cora’s + style,” but in Laura it was outrageous. When he woke, in the + morning, he was dreaming of her: dressed as Parthenia, beautiful, and + throwing roses to an acclaiming crowd through which she was borne on a + shield upon the shoulders of four Antinouses. Richard thought it + scandalous. + </p> + <p> + His indignation with her had not worn off when he descended to breakfast, + but he made up to his mother for having troubled her. Then, to cap his + gallantry, he observed that several inches of snow must have fallen during + the night; it would be well packed upon the streets by noon; he would get + a sleigh, after lunch, and take her driving. It was a holiday. + </p> + <p> + She thanked him, but half-declined. “I’m afraid it’s too + cold for me, but there are lots of nice girls in town, Richard, who won’t + mind weather.” + </p> + <p> + “But I asked <i>you</i>!” It was finally left an open question + for the afternoon to settle; and, upon her urging, he went out for a walk. + She stood at the window to watch him, and, when she saw that he turned + northward, she sank into a chair, instead of going to give Joe Varden his + after-breakfast instructions, and fell into a deep reverie. + </p> + <p> + Outdoors, it was a biting cold morning, wind-swept and gray; and with air + so frosty-pure no one might breathe it and stay bilious: neither in body + nor bilious in spirit. It was a wind to sweep the yellow from jaundiced + cheeks and make them rosy; a wind to clear dulled eyes; it was a wind to + lift foolish hearts, to lift them so high they might touch heaven and go + winging down the sky, the wildest of wild-geese. + </p> + <p> + . . . When the bell rang, Laura was kneeling before the library fire, + which she had just kindled, and she had not risen when Sarah brought + Richard to the doorway. She was shabby enough, poor Cinderella! looking + up, so frightened, when her prince appeared. + </p> + <p> + She had not been to the dance. + </p> + <p> + She had not four suitors. She had none. + </p> + <p> + He came toward her. She rose and stepped back a little. Ashes had blown + upon her, and, oh, the old, old thought of the woman born to be a mother! + she was afraid his clothes might get dusty if he came too close. + </p> + <p> + But to Richard she looked very beautiful; and a strange thing happened: + trembling, he saw that the firelight upon her face was brighter than any + firelight he had ever seen. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flirt, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLIRT *** + +***** This file should be named 297-h.htm or 297-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/297/ + +Etext produced by and anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +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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