diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:11 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:11 -0700 |
| commit | f3c73af5e9e04f89944c55797e88325fd93ebd7d (patch) | |
| tree | f8d7eb88adba40f8adad59136c1c807c8309759e | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-8.txt | 9216 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 162618 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 390877 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h/29760-h.htm | 9399 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 40103 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h/images/frontispiece.jpg | bin | 0 -> 35715 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h/images/i001.jpg | bin | 0 -> 38957 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h/images/i002.jpg | bin | 0 -> 29100 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h/images/i003.jpg | bin | 0 -> 31449 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h/images/i004.jpg | bin | 0 -> 38978 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760-h/images/i006.jpg | bin | 0 -> 3060 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760.txt | 9216 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29760.zip | bin | 0 -> 162533 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
16 files changed, 27847 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29760-8.txt b/29760-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3161eb --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9216 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dominant Strain, by Anna Chapin Ray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Dominant Strain + +Author: Anna Chapin Ray + +Illustrator: Harry C. Edwards + +Release Date: August 22, 2009 [EBook #29760] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOMINANT STRAIN *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + THE DOMINANT STRAIN + + + [Illustration: "'Beatrix?' he said"] + + + + + THE + DOMINANT STRAIN + + BY + ANNA CHAPIN RAY + + AUTHOR OF "TEDDY, HER BOOK," "PHEBE, HER PROFESSION," + "TEDDY, HER DAUGHTER," "NATHALIE'S CHUM," + "EACH LIFE UNFULFILLED" + + + _ILLUSTRATED BY_ + HARRY C. EDWARDS + + + BOSTON + LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY + 1903 + + + + + _Copyright, 1903_, + BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. + + _All rights reserved_ + + Published May, 1903 + + UNIVERSITY PRESS ˇ JOHN WILSON + AND SON ˇ CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +FROM DRAWINGS IN COLOR BY HARRY C. EDWARDS + + +"'Beatrix?' he said" _Frontispiece_ + +"'Can't you make any sort of an excuse for +yourself, Sidney?' she demanded" Page 123 + +"It was so that Thayer liked best to think of her" " 205 + +"Beatrix still sat at the disordered table" " 245 + +"'I believe I might as well ask you now'" " 339 + + + + +THE DOMINANT STRAIN + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +Beatrix smiled a little wearily. Intimate friends are sometimes cloying, +and she felt a certain irritation rising within her, as she watched +Sally's bright face under her French toque, and listened to the easy +stream of chatter which issued from Sally's lips. Sally had never faced +such a crisis as the one confronting Beatrix, that day. Moreover, she +had dimples, and it was impossible to believe in the sympathy of a +person whose dimples insisted upon coming into sight, even in the midst +of serious discussion. + +"If he hasn't already," Sally persisted; "he is bound to do it before +the season is over. Then what shall you tell him?" + +"Aren't you rushing things a little?" Beatrix inquired languidly. +"Please do remember that I only met Mr. Lorimer at the Horse Show, and +that it is three weeks to Lent." + +"That's nothing," Sally replied flatly, but flippantly. "You subjugated +Eric Stanford in half that time, and his gray matter has been in a +pulpy condition ever since." + +"I didn't know it." + +"About his gray matter?" + +"Oh, that is congenital trouble. I mean I didn't know that I had +subjugated him. Besides, that is different. He was Bobby Dane's chum, +and we took him into the family." + +"Took him in all over," Sally drawled. + +Beatrix's eyes flashed. There were things she would not say to Sally; +there were also things which Sally could not say to her. + +"I am so sorry," she said, as she rose; "but I must get ready for Mrs. +Stanley's recital. How does it happen you aren't going?" + +"For the most ignominious of reasons. I'm not bidden. Mrs. Stanley and I +were on a committee together, once upon a time. We squabbled over some +amateur theatricals, and she has cut my acquaintance ever since. I +always did say that there is nothing like amateur theatricals for +bringing out all the worst vices of humanity. If a Shakespearian revival +ever reaches the heavenly host, Gabriel and Michael will have to play +Othello and Iago turn and turn about, to prevent ill-feeling. Beatrix?" + +"Well?" + +"What do you honestly think of Mr. Lorimer?" + +Beatrix hesitated. Then she faced her friend. + +"That he is the most interesting man we have met, this season." + +"That's not saying any too much. Still, it is an admission. Are you +going to marry him?" + +"He hasn't asked me." + +"But he will." + +"How do you know?" + +"I do know." + +"I'm not so sure of it." Beatrix laughed nervously. + +"But if he does?" + +"I--I'm not so sure of that, either." + +"Beatrix! Why not?" + +Beatrix untied the long ribbons which belted her gown, and stood drawing +them slowly through and through her fingers. Sally leaned back in her +deep chair and watched her friend keenly, mercilessly. She and Beatrix +had fenced long enough; it was time for the direct thrust. Sidney +Lorimer was the most available man on that winter's carpet. Moreover, +for weeks he had been a patient follower in the wake of Beatrix Dane. +Beatrix might be as impenetrable as she chose; but Sally knew that, +during the past week, she had been reading the headings of certain +suppressed chapters in Lorimer's history, and that they had changed her +whole attitude towards the man. The signs were slight, too slight for +him to have recognized them as yet; but Sally's curious, pitiless eyes +had discerned them. She had discerned and disapproved, and she had +resolved that no squeamish delicacy should keep her from preventing +Beatrix's playing the part of a prude. + +"He is the best-looking man of the season, and the best dancer. He took +honors at Göttingen. He has any quantity of money." Sally ticked off the +points on the tips of her gray glove. "And most of all," she tapped her +thumb conclusively, "he is very much in love with Miss Beatrix Dane, and +I want him to marry her." + +"Oh, Sally, do be sensible!" Beatrix burst out impatiently. Then she +pulled herself up sharply and turned to bay. "What about the Forbes +supper?" she demanded. + +Sally shrugged her shoulders, as she fastened her fur collar. + +"Oh, Beatrix, you prig! Are there any men of our set who haven't been a +little frisky?" + +"Frisky! That is a milder word than I should use, Sally. The Forbes +affair transcends friskiness and becomes the beginning of the pace that +kills. It was intolerable; I can't forgive it." + +Her face flushed; then it paled and hardened with the rigidity of +self-control. Sally peered out at her through lowered lashes, and judged +that it was time for her to remove herself. She had known Beatrix from +their childhood, and this was the first time she had seen her jarred +from her self-possession. She fastened the last hook with a jerk. Then +she rose and went to her friend's side. + +"I didn't mean to tease you, dear," she said penitently. "I know this +has been worrying you; but don't let it get on your nerves and influence +you too much. All men make slips at times. Mr. Lorimer is a good fellow, +even if he has been a little fast. He would drop all that as soon as he +was--settled. Besides, this isn't nearly as bad as ever so many of the +stories we hear." + +"No," Beatrix assented drearily; "but it is bad enough." + +"Then you do care?" + +"Care!" She laughed a little harshly. "Sally, truly I must send you off. +It is time I was dressing, for I promised to go. I am sorry, but--" + +"I am used to being dismissed; I shall come again." There was no hint of +rancor in Sally's tone, yet she went away fully convinced that her own +system of measurement could never reach the heights and the depths of +her friend's mood. + +Left to herself, Beatrix forgot her need for haste. She dropped down +into a chair, and sat for many moments brooding over the fire. Her hand +shielded her face; yet it could not conceal the anxious lines above her +eyes nor the drooping lips. Lorimer had asked permission to call upon +her, that evening, and she knew by instinct what the evening was holding +in store for her. Confronted with the final decision, she was at a loss +which course to take. Should she close her eyes to the plague-spot which +might one day spread and spread until it tainted her whole life? The +present was very tempting. Why not take it, and ignore the future? Most +girls would wink at the suspicion which, during the past week, had been +clouding her dream of perfect content. How far was she accountable for +the future? + +She dressed hurriedly; but when she reached Mrs. Stanley's house, the +recital had already begun, and she dropped into a seat outside the +music-room door. The artist was a new star upon the horizon. She had +supposed him to be only one of the vast milky way which helped to shed a +dim light upon Mrs. Stanley, as that good lady clambered slowly up the +social ladder. Instead of that, Beatrix entirely forgot Mrs. Stanley's +antics, in watching for the star itself. She even dismissed Lorimer from +her mind, as she bent forward in eager listening to the invisible +singer. + +"Great fellow, Schubert!" her cousin observed, sauntering up to her side +as soon as the recital was ended. "They say that this Thayer is daft +upon the subject of him. Anyway, he manages to interpret him fairly +well. What did you think?" + +She pulled herself out of her absorption and laughed. + +"Don't expect me to analyze him, Bobby. He is past that." + +"Bad or good?" + +"Good, if making havoc of my nerve centres is any test." + +"Then you really liked him? I thought you didn't want to come." + +"I didn't. Nothing but a stern sense of duty brought me; but it also +brought its own reward. One hears such a voice only once a decade." + +Bobby Dane eyed her askance. + +"Sure this is yourself, Beatrix? I thought you scoffed at all baritones, +and only delighted in maudlin tenors and anticking sopranos. I have +hopes of you yet; but whence comes your conversion?" + +"From this man, Mr. ----." She referred to the programme in her hand. + +"Thayer," her cousin prompted. "Cotton Mather Thayer." + +Beatrix gasped. + +"Bobby! What a name for an artist!" + +"For a punster, you'd better say; but at least one can't doubt its +genuineness. If he had been going to assume a stage name, he would have +chosen something more romantic." + +"Who is he, and where did Mrs. Stanley accumulate him?" + +Bobby rolled his eyes expressively towards the portly, satin-clad figure +of his hostess. + +"Mrs. Stanley hunts every lion that comes to Manhattan Island. As a +rule, she catches only cubs; this is the exception which proves the +rule." + +"I haven't heard the name before." + +"No; Thayer is a brand-new lion, but fully grown. Of course, with that +name, his family tree sprouted in Massachusetts; but he has been in +Germany and Italy for years. He only landed, the third, and is to make +his formal début at the Lloyd Avalons's on the twentieth. Don't you want +to meet him?" + +"N--no. I am afraid it would be anticlimax." + +"Not a bit of it. He doesn't indulge in speckled neckties and an +imperial. He is a man, as well as a singer." + +"You know him, then?" + +"Yes, as one knows any number of people. Lorimer has had him at the club +occasionally, and I have met him there." + +"Mr. Lorimer?" + +"Lorimer knew him well in Germany. Come and help burn incense before +him, and do try to say something rational. Those fellows must get deadly +sick of the inanities people talk when they are being introduced. If you +make a good impression, perhaps I'll bring him around, some Monday." + +"Wait till you see what impression he makes, Bobby. I'm not Mrs. +Stanley, you know, and I'm not stalking any lions." + +Even while he laughed at the sudden hauteur of her tone, he allowed his +glance to wander over her with manifest approval. + +"Good for you, Beatrix! But Thayer is a gentleman first of all, then an +artist. A cad always shows himself at a strange club; but Thayer passed +muster at The Critic, where even Lorimer isn't altogether popular." + +"Why not?" she demanded sharply. + +"Difference in taste in jokes," her cousin replied evasively. "I only +spoke of it to show you that you were safe enough in knowing Thayer. +Lorimer is a good fellow; even good fellows have their foes." + +"But if Mr. Thayer hasn't--" + +"Thayer hasn't been here long enough to get them. Give him time, +Beatrix. Inside of six weeks, he will have every singer in New York +slandering him. There's nothing more lovable than the way musicians +stand by one another, when it's a case of fighting a successful rival." + +She laughed suddenly. + +"How do you know, Bobby? You're not a musician." + +"Heaven forfend! If I were, I should spend half my time on The Island, +doing sentence for battery and breach of the peace. I have known a few +musicians in my time, Beatrix, and I know their pleasant little ways." + +They had joined the large group gathered at the head of the music-room, +and were slowly working their way from the outer fringe to the focal +point. As they waited, now advancing a step, then halting again, Beatrix +listened in some scorn to the fugue of praise which rose about her, a +fugue composed chiefly of adjectives heaped in confusion about the +single, magical noun _temperament_. She shot a mischievous glance up at +her tall cousin. + +"Fancy any man having to live up to this sort of thing, Bobby! _Divine_ +and _perfectly elegant_ do not suggest the same set of attributes, and I +don't see how he can strike the golden mean between them. Somebody +really ought to coin a new word for such emergencies as this." + +Before her cousin could answer, the woman just ahead of them had buried +the singer's hand in her own pudgy clasp. + +"Oh, Mr. Thayer, that was such a pretty piece you sang last! It was a +German piece; wasn't it? It was just sweet!" + +And it was after such a prelude that Beatrix bowed in recognition of her +cousin's introduction. Even as she bowed, there came a swift realization +that she was facing no anticlimax. And yet the man before her was in no +wise the typical musician. Tall, so tall that Bobby Dane, five feet ten +in his stockings, seemed short beside him, well-dressed, well-groomed, +he looked far more like a prosperous, alert man of affairs than an +artist or a dreamer. Moreover, in spite of certain lines in his face, he +was absurdly boyish to have sung those great songs. He could know +nothing of the real issues of fate with which he had been juggling, +could have no real conception of either hope or disappointment. +Doubtless he had developed his _Weltschmerz_ mechanically, imitatively, +at so many marks or _lire_ an hour. + +Beatrix had always been distressed by the flatness of her one-syllabled +name. It gained a new roundness now; and she raised her eyes, as Thayer +spoke it, to meet the gray ones above her. They were clear and steady +eyes, smiling, yet with a look in their depths which to her mind +accounted for the insistent, troubled note in his singing. The lines +about his shaven lips were firm, but mobile. + +Bobby eyed the two of them quizzically. Then he broke in upon the +tentative conversation which follows an introduction. + +"Pass, Beatrix! That's quite original. I told my cousin, Thayer, that if +she could hail you with a new adjective, I should present you as a +candidate for a dish of tea, some Monday." + +As usually happened with Bobby Dane's remarks, this proved the end of +any serious talk, and Beatrix laughed, as she responded,-- + +"Please come alone, Mr. Thayer. My cousin monopolizes all the +conversation, when he is present." + +"And Miss Dane always demands a good listener. Like a conspirator, she +relies upon your silence, Thayer." + +"What a restful hostess!" Thayer answered lightly. Then, turning, he +laid a kindly hand on the arm of his accompanist. "Otto, I wish you to +meet Mr. Dane. Miss Dane, may I introduce my friend, Mr. Arlt?" + +It was done simply; but the boy blushed with sudden shyness before the +stately girl, whose fur collar alone had cost far more than his whole +year's expenses. Beatrix met him cordially, for she had seen him +standing ignored in his corner by the piano, and she liked the friendly +way in which the singer had included him in the trivial talk. It was not +until afterwards that she suddenly recalled the fact that she herself +and her cousin were apparently the only ones to whom Thayer had +introduced his companion. She pondered over the reason for this until, +as she slowly mounted the steps to her own door, she abruptly recurred +to the unanswered question which had been driven from her mind by the +afternoon's events. + +The old butler met her in the hall. + +"Mr. Lorimer has just telephoned to you, Miss Beatrix. He can't come, +to-night, he says. His horse stumbled and threw him just now, and his +ankle is sprained. It will be a few days before he can go out." + +And with utter thankfulness Beatrix accepted even this brief reprieve. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +"Cast your bread upon the waters, and it will come floating back to you +in time to be fed out to the next man." + +"Bad for the next man's digestion, though!" Bobby Dane commented, as he +set down his empty cup. "You needn't offer me any of your second-hand +pabulum, Beatrix." + +"You probably will be in such dire straits that I shall offer you the +first chance at it, Bobby," she retorted. + +"Another cup of tea, and two pieces of lemon, please," Sally demanded. +"What is the particular appositeness of your remarks, Beatrix?" + +"Mr. Arlt and Mrs. Stanley. Also the conservation of philanthropic +energy." + +Sally stirred her tea with a protesting clatter of the spoon. + +"Beatrix, I am glad I didn't go to college. Your mind is appalling; your +language is more so. May I ask whether you are going into slumming?" + +"No. Worse." + +"For the family credit, I must draw the line at the Salvation Army," +Bobby adjured her. "A poke bonnet and a tambourine wouldn't be a proper +fruitage for our family tree." + +"What are you going to do, Beatrix?" Sally repeated. "It is something +uncanny, I know. I felt it in the air, and that was the reason I stayed +until everybody else had gone. I knew you wished to confess." + +"But I didn't." + +"Not even to ease your conscience?" + +"My conscience is perfectly easy." + +"But you said it was worse than slumming." + +"It is. Slumming is aristocratic and conservative; I am about to be +radical." + +"Don't tell me it is spectacles and statistics," Bobby pleaded. "I abhor +statistical women; they are so absorbed in collating material that they +never listen to the point of even your best stories." + +"Not a statistic, I promise you, Bobby." + +"Nor a poke bonnet?" + +"No; my choice is for toques, not pokes. Do you know Mr. Arlt?" + +"Never heard of the gentleman." Bobby's tone expressed cheery +indifference, as he bent over to prod the fire. + +"But you met him, Bobby." + +"It was in a crowd, then, and it doesn't signify that I've heard of him. +Who is he, Sally?" + +With the freedom born of intimacy, Sally was eating up her lemon rind, +and there was a momentary pause, while she shook her head. Beatrix +answered the question. + +"He is Mr. Thayer's accompanist, that little German who was with him at +Mrs. Stanley's." + +"Have you heard Thayer yet, Sally?" Bobby asked parenthetically. + +"No. I have heard about him till I am weary of his name, though, and +such a name! Cotton Mather Thayer!" + +"Did it ever occur to you the handicap of going through life as Bobby?" +inquired the owner of that name. "It is a handicap; but it is also a +distinct advantage. Nobody ever expects me to amount to anything. No +matter how much I fizzle, they'll say 'Oh, but it's only Bobby Dane!' +Now, Cotton Mather Thayer is bound to fill a niche in the--the--" + +"Lofty cathedral of fame reared by the ages." Sally helped him out of +his rhetorical abyss. + +"Thanks awfully; yes. And then Beatrix will scatter her water-soaked +breadcrumbs around him to coax the little sparrows to make their nests +in the crown of his hat and get free music lessons for their young in +exchange for keeping his head warm." + +Beatrix frowned; then she laughed. Bobby was incorrigible, and there was +no use in expecting seriousness from him. He and Sally were alike; +Beatrix was cast in a different mould. She could suffer and enjoy with +an intensity unknown to either of the others; yet she was close kin to +her cousin in her appreciation of his irresponsible fun, even though it +would never have occurred to her to originate it. Moreover, even if it +had occurred to her, it is doubtful whether she could have accomplished +it. + +"Who gets first bite at your bread, Beatrix?" Bobby asked encouragingly. +"Granted that Arlt, whoever he is, gets second nibble, who comes in +ahead?" + +"Mrs. Stanley." In spite of herself, Beatrix laughed at the logical +application of her metaphor. Stout, energetic Mrs. Stanley was so like a +greedy young turkey snapping up the crumbs dropped from the hands of her +superiors. + +Sally raised her brows. + +"Knowing Mrs. Stanley's appetite, I only wonder that any of the loaves +and fishes should be left over," she drawled maliciously. + +"Mrs. Stanley has her good points, Sally." + +Bobby interrupted. + +"Not a point. She is all built in parabolic curves. Why can't you be +accurate, Beatrix, as befits your higher education? You took conic +sections a year before I did." + +"All the more reason I should forget them sooner. Besides, haven't I +begged you not to allude to the fact that I am a year older than you?" + +"But is Mr. Thayer as great a singer as they say?" Sally asked, with +sudden irrelevancy. + +"Greater. He is almost perfectly satisfactory." + +"Not quite?" + +"Not yet; he will be, some day, if he can only have an unhappy love +affair," Beatrix answered placidly, as she rose from the tea table and +crossed to the open fire. + +"That is an humane speech." + +"Artistic, though. He needs just that to develop him. He strikes every +note but tenderness." + +"Tenderness is generally located at _C in Alt_, Beatrix. A baritone +can't soar to that height; you should be content when he growls defiance +and moans resignation." + +"Besides," Sally suggested; "it is quite within the limits of +possibility that Mr. Thayer might have a happy love affair. Would that +answer your purpose, Beatrix?" + +"Not in the least. It is his minor key that needs developing." + +"Never mind," Bobby added. "Artists are scheduled for the unhappy loves. +Therein lies the advantage of being merely a newspaper man." + +Sally looked up inquiringly. + +"Just what is it that you do, Bobby? I know you have a desk and a +salary; but I've never been able to find out that you did anything but +put your heels on one and your fingers on the other." + +"That's because you aren't there to see." + +"No; but I have heard. Do you ever work, really work?" + +"Of course I work. I earn the jam to eat on my daily bread. I boxed the +devil's ears, this morning." + +"Luther _redivivus_! You and Beatrix will soon be great moral forces in +the metropolis. Beatrix, is he really presentable?" + +"Bobby, or the devil?" + +"Neither. Mr. Th--" + +"Mr. Thayer," the old butler announced imperturbably, and the subject of +discussion came slowly across the great dusky room towards the circle +of light around the table. + +Even while she was suppressing her gasp of sheer embarrassment, Sally +admitted to herself that he was presentable, very presentable. His +manner was altogether free from the self-conscious graciousness of an +artist off-duty; moreover, he was very big, very comely, very much +stamped with the hall-mark of her own class. His eyes were steady; his +shoulders were broad, but his hands were slim. As for Sally Van Osdel, +she had one attribute of a great general; she knew how to beat a +dignified retreat from an awkward situation, and she it was who broke in +upon the little pause which followed the introductions. + +"Your entrance was most dramatic, Mr. Thayer, for your name was just +trembling upon our lips. Miss Dane has been asking us if we knew your +accompanist, Mr. Arlt." + +He turned to Beatrix. + +"Otto? What about him, Miss Dane?" + +"Only good. Miss Gannion was speaking to me about him, last night." + +"You know Miss Gannion?" + +"Who doesn't?" + +He laughed silently from between his close-shut teeth. + +"That can be interpreted in two senses." + +"Not if you know Miss Gannion. She is of the salt of the earth." + +"I am glad to hear you say so. She is the one person in the city to whom +I brought an introduction. She was out when I called, so I am still a +good deal at sea in regard to her." + +A direct question would have been unpardonable; but Beatrix could see no +offence in the note of interrogation in his voice. + +"She is a dear little spinster of fifty, with endless interests and not +a hobby to her name, the most downright, practical person I have ever +known, and the most helpful to strangers and pilgrims in the city. It is +quite incidental that she is uncommonly rich and uncommonly homely. +Nobody ever stops to think about either fact." + +"And she has heard of Arlt?" + +"Yes, she hears of everybody. She has a great talent for putting young +men on their feet and teaching them to walk alone. In fact, she is a +perfect employment bureau for meritorious youth. Somebody wrote to her +that Mr. Arlt has genius and grit, and not a guinea to his name, and she +is trying to get him some engagements." + +"She asked you to help him?" + +"Yes. At least, she spoke about him, and asked me to keep my eyes open +and to say a good word for him, when I can. What does he want, Mr. +Thayer?" + +"Whatever he can get." + +"What does he need, then?" + +"Everything." Thayer's tone was grave. + +"At least, that is comprehensive, Beatrix," her cousin assured her. "He +may even be starved into eating your chloride of manna." + +She ignored the interruption. + +"And you have known him for some time, Mr. Thayer?" + +"Long enough to have no hesitation in vouching for him, both as a man +and as an artist." His tone was not unfriendly, yet it was of dignified +finality. + +"Then why the deuce hasn't the fellow arrived?" Bobby rose, as he spoke, +and planted his feet accurately on the middle pothook of the hearthrug. + +"Chiefly because art is long, and we are all too busy to wait for it to +display itself. Give him time," Sally suggested idly, for she was +becoming a little bored by the discussion. + +"Time is money, though. Perhaps a pension would do just as well." + +Thayer frowned involuntarily. To him, his art was too sacred to admit +of any flippancy in discussing it. He turned still more directly to +Beatrix. + +"Arlt is a thoroughly good fellow, one you are safe in introducing +anywhere. He is only a boy, barely twenty; but he is one of the most +satisfactory pianists I have ever heard. I don't mean I haven't heard +better ones; but never one who has been more satisfying to my mood, +whatever it is. His technique is not perfect, and he lacks maturity; but +he has a trick of making people dissatisfied with other pianists and +anxious to hear him play the same programme." + +"And he will accompany?" + +"Ye-es. Sometimes." + +Beatrix laughed. + +"I spare your modesty, Mr. Thayer. I think I understand. But really I +haven't much influence. If I can help him, though, you can count on my +doing it." + +"All he needs is a little start. As Miss Van Osdel says, New York is +moving too fast to wait for strangers to fall into step with the +procession." + +"He is a stranger, then?" + +"He came over with me." Thayer hesitated. "I may as well tell you a bit +about him," he went on. "It can't do any harm, and it may supplement +Miss Gannion's story. He is that unhappy being, the youngest son of a +younger son, and he has more ancestors than money. His father ran away +to escape army service, and forgot to provide for his wife and children. +The children died, all but two, Otto and a sister eight years older. He +was half through his musical training, when she had a fall that crippled +her, and the boy had to give up study and take to teaching. For two +years, he fought a losing fight, giving lessons to stolid youngsters, +playing at cheap concerts wherever he could get an engagement, and all +the time slowly dropping deeper and deeper into debt. One night, he +fainted in the middle of the accompaniment to _The Erl-King_, and it +looked as if the King had claimed him. There were a couple of Americans +in the hall who had been watching him for weeks, and they began to +investigate the case. Arlt, it seems, hadn't eaten anything for two +days; and, just as he had started for the concert, he had received legal +notice that the next day his mother and sister would be turned into the +street, because the rent was unpaid." + +"And then?" Sally queried, as Thayer came to a full stop. + +"Then they took him out to supper," he replied prosaically. + +"And then?" Sally persisted. + +Thayer spoke with some reluctance. + +"Then they found him an engagement that paid a better salary, and they +bullied him into accepting a little loan, until the first week's payday +came around." + +"That was so good of you!" Beatrix said impulsively. + +He raised his brows. + +"I wasn't the only American in Berlin at the time, Miss Dane." + +"No; you said there were two of you. But there is no use in your denying +that you were the one who sang _The Erl-King_." + +"Circumstantial evidence convicts you, Thayer," Bobby said, coming to +the support of his cousin. "You sang; you also fed him. Likewise, you +brought him to America. Then wherefore deny?" + +"There's no reason I should deny. I like Arlt, and for weeks I had been +trying to get him as accompanist, so I gained by the affair. The other +fellow didn't, though. He was no musician; but the case interested him. +He not only backed Arlt financially, but he hunted up the mother and +sister and did no end of nice things for them, the things that count: +rolling chairs and extract of beef and all that stuff. He had nothing +to make by the transaction." + +"Were they properly grateful?" Bobby inquired. + +"Yes, to the point of enthusiasm. The mother insisted upon doing his +mending all the next winter, and the sister embroidered him a pair of +huge antimacassars and a smoking-cap. It sounds funny; but it was grim, +earnest tragedy mixed with pathos. He did it all with such tact that the +poor creatures never half realized how for a fact they never came into +the middle of his life at all. Arlt realizes it, though. That is one of +the most pathetic phases of the whole situation. By the way, Dane, you +know the fellow, I think." + +"I wish I did." Beatrix spoke impetuously. "Plenty of people will give +generously, but not many of them are willing to give humanely." + +Thayer smiled. + +"Old Frau Arlt used to call him her _Lieber Sohn_, and fuss over him as +if he were in dire need of her motherly care. He took it just as it was +given. The two women lived too quietly to have heard of him. Otto never +told them the truth; but outside the house his deference made up for +the familiarity at home. It has been a pretty story to watch, and it has +meant a comfortable life for two half-starved women." + +"Who was the man?" Bobby asked idly. + +"Lorimer. Sidney Lorimer." + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +Of course, as Bobby Dane had said, with such a name, Thayer's family +tree had sprouted in Massachusetts. His Puritanism was hereditary and +strong; it tempered the artistic side of his nature, but it could not +destroy it. In the musical sense of the word, Cotton Mather Thayer +possessed Temperament; but his Temperament was the battle-field where +two warring temperaments were at constant strife. + +In the year of grace sixteen hundred and thirty-five, Richard Thayer, +freeman, landed in America. From Plymouth Rock, he strode straight +towards a position of colonial fame. His children and his children's +children kept up the family tradition and name until one of them, of a +more theological bent than his cousins had been, annulled the custom of +his ancestors and named his oldest son for the grim divine, Cotton +Mather Thayer, and during the next one hundred and fifty years, Cotton +Mathers and Richards had flourished side by side among the Thayers of +eastern Massachusetts. They were strong men, one and all, quiet and +self-contained in years of peace, grim fighters in seasons of war, and +prominent citizens at all times, a godly, gritty, and prosperous race. +Of such is the greatness of New England. + +Their records, like the records of all good things, were slightly +monotonous. They were born into orderly nurseries; they were graduated +from the vicissitudes of teething and mumps into orderly, peaceful +adolescence. They invariably married the most suitable damsel of their +own class, and they passed from an orderly old age through an orderly +churchyard into a heaven which the imagination of their surviving kin +peopled with orderly ranks of angels, playing gilt harps in perfect +accord. Their artistic ideals were bounded by _Coronation_ and the +pictures in _The New England Primer_ and _Godey_. Blackberry shrub, to +their minds, was the medium of riotous dissipation. + +Under such fostering conditions, ancestral traits strengthened from +generation to generation, until the race of Puritan Thayers culminated +in one Cotton Mather who was born in the early decades of the last +century, a grim deacon, a shrewd lawyer, and the owner of two or three +ships which sailed from his own seaport town. Shrewd as he was, however, +his logic failed him at one point. When his first child, Cotton Mather +Thayer, was a tiny boy, the youngster was allowed and even invited to +toddle about the wharves, clinging to the paternal thumb. On the other +hand, when the boy Cotton was fourteen, he received a round dozen of +canings for lounging about among the shipping. The thirteenth caning was +one too many. It was more severe than the others, and it cracked the +long-strained situation. The caning occurred in his father's office, +after hours, one June night. The _Thankful_ was booked to sail, the next +morning at eight. When, at eight-ten, it slipped down the harbor, it +bore away as cabin-boy and general drudge the stiff and sore, but +unrepentant sinner, Cotton Mather Thayer, age fourteen. + +His later adventures have little concern with the story of his son's +life. He sailed over many seas, he visited many lands, mellowing by +contact with many peoples the unyielding temper of his race. The +possibility of failure never once entered into his mind. The Thayers +always had succeeded, for they always had worked. In consequence, he +took it quite as a matter of course that, at twenty-three, he should be +commander of the _Presidenta_, stationed in the Baltic for a year of +chilly inaction. St. Petersburg was near, and St. Petersburg, as the +young commander found, held for him the focal point of the world, in the +person of the pretty daughter of one of the court musicians. Twelve +years later, while the _Presidenta_ was stationed in the Mediterranean, +its young captain died, leaving behind him in Russia a fragile wife and +a little son who had inherited the name and character of the Thayers, +curiously mingled with the artistic, emotional temperament and the rare +musical ability of his mother's race. + +It was no common combination. Russian art and Puritan morals are equally +grim; yet the one yields to every passing emotion, the other is girded +up by unyielding strength. Throughout his little boyhood, the child's +nature seemed borne hither and thither by these two counter currents in +his blood, now passing days of quiet, sturdy self-control, now swept by +black gusts of passion which carried all things before them. Then, four +years after his father's death, there came two events into his life: his +mother's death, and the discovery that he had a voice. The one taught +him the meaning of utter, absolute loneliness, for the alien blood of +the Thayers had never been able to win many friends in the land of his +mother's kin. The other proved to be at once a rudder to guide him over +the uncharted future of his life, and an outlet for the pent-up passion +within him. His voice was totally untrained, and as yet it broke into +all manner of distressing falsetto fragments. Nevertheless, it gave him +a cause for living, and it enabled him, the descendant of a taciturn +race, to give utterance to the doubts and questionings which accompanied +his growth to manhood. Bereft of his mother and without his voice, he +might easily have become an ascetic or a criminal. + +To a boy of sixteen, trained to a life of strict economy, his slight +income from his father's investments seemed enough for his needs, and he +felt a boyish disgust when, one day, word came to him that his +grandfather had died, leaving him the only heir to the large property +laid up by eight generations of Thayers. His grandfather had refused to +become reconciled to his son; then why should he assume post-mortem +friendship with his son's son? However, by the time he was launched into +German student-life, dividing his time fitfully between his university +and his music, young Cotton Mather was forced to admit that an ancestral +fortune was no despicable addition to the stock in trade of a man +starting in life. He only needed to watch the grinding existences of +some of his comrades to realize the value of money in shaping a broad +artistic career. Instead of wasting his gray matter over details of ways +and means, he could let that side of life take care of itself, while he +gave his whole attention to developing the best that was in his mind and +his voice. + +Of course, he was extravagant; of course, he learned, among other +things, some of the blacker lessons of the student world. However, the +Puritanism of his ancestors stood him in good stead. It enabled him to +come into close contact with the seamy side of life; but it decreed that +the friction should never leave a sore spot behind it. It only hardened +the fibre. When he ended his studies, he knew the world at its best and +at its worst, but with this distinction: the best was an integral part +of his life; the worst was an alien, a foe to be recognized and downed, +however often it should face him. + +From Göttingen, where he had met Lorimer casually, Thayer went to Berlin +to devote his time entirely to music. Lorimer joined him there, more +because he had nothing to call him back to America than because he had +anything to call him to Berlin. During the next winter, the two men, as +unlike as men could be, had shared a bachelor apartment, the one working +industriously, the other playing just as industriously. It was during +this winter that Lorimer had come into contact with the Arlts. It was +during this winter also that Thayer finally decided to give up his other +plans and make his profession centre in his voice. He had battled +against the idea with the fervor of a race to whom "the stage" offered +no distinction between vaudeville and grand opera, but inclined to the +characteristics of the one and the scope of the other. For years, he had +fought against the temptation; he yielded, one night, during the second +act of _Faust_, and, in after time, he could always identify the chord +which had punctuated his decision. Three hours later, he was studying +that fraction of Baedeker which concerns itself with Italy. + +He was in Italy for two years. Then he went back to Berlin for another +year of grinding work, of passing discouragements, and of ultimate +success. There had been many and many a day when his pluck had failed +him, when he had questioned whether his voice was really good, whether, +after all, it were possible to make an artist out of gritty Puritan +stock; whether, in fact, he was not a thing of fibre, rather than a man +of temperament. His progress was great; but his ideals kept pace with +it. + +It was one dazzling June morning when he took his final lesson. He had +gone onward and upward until, for months, he had been in the hands of +the _maestro_ universally acknowledged to be the dean of his art. The +_maestro_ was an old man and chary of his words; yet even he was stirred +to enthusiasm. + +"My son, it is time for you to go," he said, as he rose from the piano +and took Thayer's hands into his own fragile, elderly fingers. "I can +teach you nothing more. It is now for you to work out your own +reputation. Not much more of life is left in me; but, before it is +ended, I shall hear your name spoken, both often and with praise. While +I live, my house will hold a welcome to you. _Auf wiedersehen!_" + +As Thayer went out into the sunshine, the glitter and the brightness of +it all, of the day and of the future, dazzled him and made him afraid. +Then of a sudden the blood of the Thayers, in abeyance during those mad, +sad, glad years of study and of striving, asserted itself again. Obeying +its behest, he turned abruptly from the street where he was seeking the +impresario to whom his master had sent him. In that instant, he turned +his back for many a long month upon opera and upon all that followed in +its train. + +One clean, cold night in mid-February, Thayer came down the steps of his +club, where he had been dining with Bobby Dane. At the foot of the steps +he halted long enough to button his coat to the chin and pull his hat +over his eyes, preparatory to facing the cutting wind. Then, turning +southward, he went striding away down the Avenue with the vigorous, +alert tread of the well-fed, contented man. It was still early, so early +that the pavements were dotted with theatre-going groups. He strode +through and beyond them, along the lower end of the Avenue, and came +under the arch, standing in chill, austere dignity at the edge of the +wind-swept square. Over its fretted surface the electric lights shone +coldly, and the deserted benches beyond brought to Thayer, fresh from +the glow and good-fellowship of the club, a sudden depressing sense of +his own aloofness from his kind. The club and Bobby were incidental +points of contact, pleasant, but not permanent. Like the arch, he was +alone, outside the rushing life of the busy town, something to be +watched and commented upon, but never destined to be really in the heart +of things. Bobby was a part of it, and Bobby had held out to him a +welcoming hand. He had taken the hand, and had dropped it again. It was +of no use. He did not belong. The sensation was not a new one to him. +He had met it before and in many places. It came to him suddenly and +unbidden, and it lay, a chilly weight, over all his consciousness. It +always left him wondering whether he would ever become fully adjusted to +his environment, whether it would ever be possible for him to come into +perfect contact with his fellow-men. + +As if the depression had brought with it a physical chill, he shook his +broad shoulders and plunged his hands into the side pockets of his +overcoat. Then, facing westward, he went on for a block or two and +stopped at the door of a shabby boarding-house. + +"Mr. Arlt?" he said to the maid, in brief interrogation. + +She nodded and stood aside to let him pass. Thayer's tread on the dim +stairway showed his familiarity with the place, as did the prompt +calling of his name which answered his knock. + +Without laying down his pipe, Arlt rose to greet his guest. + +"You were so late that I was afraid you were not coming." + +Thayer took off his fur-lined coat and tossed it into a chair. + +"Haven't you learned that I always get around?" he asked. "I was dining +with a friend, and we took things lazily." + +"And now you expect to sing?" Arlt's accent was rebuking. + +"Yes. I walked down here to get myself into condition. How is it? Are +you feeling nervous over the prospect?" + +Arlt had seated himself at the grand piano which completely filled one +end of the dreary room. Now he drew a protesting arpeggio from the black +keys and shook his head. + +"Oh, that is a terrible woman, that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons! She was here +again, to-day, to tell me about the programme. What does she know of +music? She refuses the Haydn Variations and demands a Liszt Rhapsodie. +If you are not firm with her, she will end by making you sing _The Holy +City_ with a flute obligato." + +Thayer laughed unfeelingly. + +"She is a Vandal, Arlt; but the world will be at her musicale, they tell +me; and you will find it a good place to make your bow to an American +public. Mrs. Dana told me, over in Berlin, that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons gave +the best private recitals in New York." + +"What does she know about music?" Arlt grumbled. + +"Nothing, apparently; but the new-rich must have some sort of a fad, if +they are to make themselves count for anything, and people will go to +hear good music, even when they know it is a mere social bribe. Hofman +could fill a Bowery dance-hall with the elect; you only have to lead +them to the latest architectural vagary on Fifth Avenue. They are bound +to be there, for, even while they scoff, they like to keep an eye on +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons for fear she may prove to be worth knowing after they +have snubbed her; so play your best. It may lead to other engagements to +come." + +"And the Liszt Rhapsodie?" he asked mournfully. + +"Bad, I admit." + +"It is detestable. The Rhapsodies are the forlorn hope of artists who +have failed on Beethoven." + +"Not so bad as that. Still, there's a way of escape. Announce to your +audience that, by request, you are changing the number from Liszt to +Haydn. I do request it most earnestly." + +The boy looked up in admiring relief. + +"How is it that such ideas come to you, Mr. Thayer?" + +"My Yankee blood, Arlt. Now shall we run over my songs?" + +It was characteristic of Thayer that, in consenting to make his American +début at the recital of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, he had insisted upon the +condition that he should choose his own assisting artist. How Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons had heard of him in the first place was a mystery which he had +made no effort to solve. From the testimony of several members of the +American colony in Berlin, it appeared that all New York and half of +Boston had heard of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, who, for three or four seasons +past, had been using her really choice musicales as a species of knocker +upon the portal of New York society. By this time, she had passed the +portal and was disporting herself in the vestibule, with one toe resting +upon the sacred threshold. Socially, she was as yet impossible; but her +recitals had won the reputation of being among the choicest tidbits of +the season's musical feast, for she made up in money what she lacked in +artistic sense, and, thanks to her agent, she had been able to discover +certain new stars before they rose above the horizon. For this reason it +was a distinct honor, Thayer was told, to be bidden to sing for Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons, and therefore Thayer had promptly made up his mind that +Arlt also should have a hearing upon this occasion. The boy already had +decided to come to America. Thayer realized with regret how cold a +welcome the country of his own ancestors was accustomed to extend to +struggling young musicians. Arlt had genius; but he lacked both +influence and initiative. The fight would be a long one, and Arlt's +conquest would be at the expense of many a wound. Teutons are not +necessarily pachyderms, and Arlt was sensitive to a rare degree. + +As Arlt's fingers dropped from the keys at the close of _Valentine's_ +song of farewell, Thayer laughed suddenly. + +"It is rather contrary to custom to be accompanied by the star of the +evening, Arlt. I suppose I ought to have hunted up somebody else; but +these other fellows make frightful work of my accompaniments. They hurry +till they get me out of breath, and then they take advantage of the +moment to drown me out. I'd like a baton, only I should beat the +accompanist with it, before I was half through a programme." + +The boy's color came. + +"When another man accompanies you, I shall be dead, or incapable," he +returned briefly. "I do not forget." + +"Nor I. But do you also remember the last time we did this in Germany?" + +"At my home? To Katarina?" + +Thayer nodded. + +"It is my song, you know. I am superstitious about it." + +"Mr. Lorimer was there, that night." + +"Oh, that reminds me, Arlt, I heard, to-night, that Lorimer was +engaged." + +"Mr. Lorimer?" + +"Yes, to a Miss Dane. It is only just announced, to-day. I was dining +with her cousin and he told me." + +"She must be good. I hope she is also strong of character," the boy +said, with a curiously deliberate accent which seemed characteristic of +him. "He is a good man and a kind one; but he needs a steadying hand. I +shall write to the mother and Katarina." + +"Will they like the news?" + +"Why not? Mr. Lorimer is their friend, and they will be glad of any +happiness which shall come to him. To the mother, he is like a son, for +she is simple-hearted and knows nothing of the world. To Katarina, he is +like a god." + +"But gods don't usually marry," Thayer suggested whimsically, as he took +up his coat. + +However, Arlt was ready for him. + +"Zeus did, and Homer tells us how he quarrelled with his wife.'" + +"Lorimer never will quarrel; he is too easy-going. By the way, you met +Miss Dane at the Stanley recital. Do you remember her?" + +Arlt's lips straightened thoughtfully. + +"A tall lady in brown furs, who knew how to praise without making a fool +of herself?" he queried. + +"That is the one. I should judge that Lorimer has been making a +systematic campaign ever since he met her, three months ago, and that, +after all, it came suddenly in the end. Dane was noncommittal; but I +think he doesn't like Lorimer any too well. Good-night, Arlt. We'll +rehearse again, Wednesday morning; meanwhile, stick to your Haydn." And +Thayer went away, out into the cold, crisp air, which greeted him now +with all its tonic force. + +Arlt's simple, boyish loyalty and lack of self-analysis always put him +into good-humor. It was as infectious as the jovial temper of Bobby +Dane, Thayer reflected enviously, with a sudden memory of the idle talk +over their dinner. Strange what had put him on his nerves afterwards! +Then his thoughts flew to Lorimer, and he wondered how his old chum +would bear the harness of domestic living. Perhaps it was just as well +that no idea crossed his mind of how far his story told to Beatrix Dane, +the Monday before, had had a share in shaping the decision which was to +change the whole character of her life. + +The question of one's accountability for others is rarely an edifying +subject of meditation. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +"It isn't so easy to say airy nothings to an artist, when you know him +behind the scenes," Beatrix said, suddenly shifting the talk back to the +point of departure. + +"Talk philosophy, then," Bobby returned. + +"But I must say something to him, after he gets through singing; and now +that I have seen him, three or four times, I can't launch into a sea of +platitudes." + +"I thought women could always go to sea in a platitude. It is as leaky +as a sieve, and not half so likely to upset and leave one floating +without any support at all." + +Sally laughed outright. + +"Beware of Bobby, when he turns metaphorical! He suggests a second-hand +curio shop." + +Lorimer glanced up at her, with a whimsical smile twisting his lips. + +"Your own rhetoric isn't above reproach, Miss Van Osdel. But has it ever +occurred to you that Young America has abandoned its sieve for a man of +war? I met a callow junior from Harvard, the other day, and by way of +making polite conversation, I asked him to suggest a clever subject for +a debate. He promptly told me that at his eating club they had been +discussing the origins of morality." + +Bobby whistled, to the huge delight of the butler. That factotum +revelled in the pranks of "Master Bobby" who had upset his dignity at +least once a week for the past fifteen years. + +"In our time we took our pleasures less sadly, Lorimer. What are we all +coming to?" + +"To congenital senility." + +"That is nothing more nor less than the frugal trick of making both ends +meet," Sally interpolated. + +"But what shall I say to Mr. Thayer?" Beatrix reiterated. + +"That it is a pleasant evening." + +"That you hope he isn't very tired with singing so much," Bobby and +Sally suggested in the same breath. + +Beatrix made a little gesture of scorn. + +"It is your turn, Mr. Lorimer. You know him better than the rest of us. +What shall you say to him?" + +"I know him so well that I rarely talk to him about his singing," +Lorimer replied, with sudden gravity. "Thayer is too large a man to +smack his lips over sugar-plums. He knows exactly what I think of his +voice, that it is one of the best baritone voices I have ever heard. He +also knows that I am perfectly aware of the fact when he sings unusually +badly or unusually well. Under those conditions, there is no especial +need of our discussing the matter. One can have reservations with one's +friends, you know." As he spoke, his eyes met those of Beatrix, and a +smile lighted his gravity. + +At a first glance, Sidney Lorimer produced the impression of being a +remarkably handsome man. The second glance, while it strengthened the +impression, nevertheless set one wondering what had created it. His +figure, his features, his coloring were all good, yet they were in no +way remarkable. A wiry, nervous, clean-cut man, with brown hair and +eyes, a slim, straight nose, and a well-set head, he would have +commanded little attention had it not been for the nameless stamp set +upon him by his training at an English public-school. It is impossible +to analyze this stamp, yet it exists and insists upon recognition. +Political life had called the elder Lorimer to England, and he had +judged it better to take his only child with him and drop him into Eton +than to leave him in America and send him to St. Paul's. He did it as a +matter of convenience, not of theory; but when his boy was ready for a +Yale diploma, the father confessed to himself that he was pleased with +the result of the experiment. Young Lorimer would never be an important +factor in the world's development; but he was an uncommonly attractive +fellow, and could hold his own in any position where chance would be +likely to place him. Only his lower lip betrayed the fact that his +mother had been a woman of uncurbed nerves. + +It was the evening of the twentieth, and Lorimer was distinctly nervous. +He liked Arlt and was anxious for his success; but his anxiety for Arlt +was as nothing in comparison with that which he felt for Thayer, to whom +he gave the adoration that a weak man sometimes offers to one +immeasurably his superior. Probably Lorimer's whole life would contain +no better year than the one he had spent with Thayer in Berlin. Thayer's +influence was strongly good, and Lorimer was of plastic material. It is +doubtful whether Lorimer realized this influence; yet he was genuinely +delighted to have Thayer within easy reach once more, genuinely wishful +to have Thayer's American début such an unqualified success that +hereafter he would regard New York as his professional home. + +Lorimer rarely was garrulous; he was unusually silent during the long +drive to the Lloyd Avalons's. It was his first introduction to the +pseudo-fashionable world, for his own family had been of conservative +stock, and Beatrix and Bobby had been the first of the Danes to break +down the barriers of their own exclusive set. To be sure, he realized +that in a city like New York it was quite possible for circles of equal +choiceness to exist tangent to each other, yet in mutual ignorance of +one another; but his years abroad in slower-moving countries had not +prepared him for the countless agile performers clambering up and down +over the social trapeze. In his father's day, society had stood on an +elevated platform and watched the performers as they played leap-frog on +the ground. The performers had been as agile then as now; but their +agility had been free from any danger of a tumble. Between the ground +and the platform, there is no place of permanent rest. One must keep +moving, or else be pushed to the ground. + +As a rule, people forgot that there was a Mr. Lloyd Avalons. He was a +little man with an imperial, and a total incapacity for telling the +truth. In that, he was inferior to his wife in point of social +evolution, for she had learned, from certain episodes which still filled +her with mortification, that fibbing was bad form. To Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons, her husband was a mere cipher. Placed before her, he added +nothing to her value; placed after and in the background, he multiplied +her importance tenfold. There were certain privileges accruing to a +woman with a husband, certain immunities that followed in the train of +matrimony. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons was quite willing to include the word +_obey_ in the marriage service; she had a distinct choice in regard to +whom it should refer. + +To-night, Lloyd Avalons stood slightly in the rear of the elbow of his +wife who, resplendent in pale gray velvet and emeralds, was welcoming +her guests on the threshold of the music-room. Her gray eyes were +shining with a greenish light that matched the emeralds, for her lips +were set in a conventional smile, and there must be some escape for her +delight, as she counted over the tale of guests and recognized +individuals of many a named species from the garden of society. All in +all, this was the best success she had as yet attained. + +She greeted Beatrix effusively, and cast a coy glance at Lorimer while +she murmured a few words of congratulation. Then she fell a victim to +one of Bobby's quibbles, and while she was struggling to see the point +of his joke, the others made their escape. + +"At least, the architect knew what he was about," Lorimer remarked to +Beatrix, as they took their seats. "Thayer can't complain of the +acoustic effects of the place." + +"When have you seen him?" + +"Just before dinner. He was in superb voice then, and a fairly good +mood." + +"Isn't he always?" she questioned idly, as she nodded to an acquaintance +in the next row of chairs. + +"Not always. As a rule, he is the best-tempered fellow in the world. +Once in a while, though, he wraps himself up in his dignity and stalks +about like an Indian brave in his best Navajo blanket. Nobody ever knows +what is the reason, nor when he will go off into a Mood. It makes him an +uncertain quantity. For my part, I would rather a man would swear and +get it over with." Lorimer spoke easily. Unlike Thayer, he never +collided with the angles of his own temperament. + +"What does it do to his singing?" + +"Depends on one's taste. I like it, myself, as I like a high-flavored +cheese. People who pin their faith to Mendelssohn might be a little +over-powered. Fact is, there is a strange streak in Thayer's make-up. I +can't account for him at all." + +"What is the use of trying? Aren't one's friends immune from analysis?" + +"I don't care to try. I don't want to account for him; he is too large +for that. I wish you might know him; but you never will. He's not a +woman's man in the least." + +Beatrix was silent for a moment. Involuntarily she was making a swift +comparison of the way in which the two men spoke of each other. +Lorimer's praise had been full of half-suppressed reservations. Thayer +had made no reservations, he had scarcely uttered a word of praise, yet +his hastily-drawn picture of Lorimer's connection with the Arlts had +proved a determining factor in her life. It had been a new phase of +Lorimer's character which Thayer had presented. It had revealed him in a +new light and one infinitely more likable than any she had yet known. +The Lorimer she had met, had been fascinating and a bit snobbish. The +friend of the Arlts was altogether lovable. It takes greater tact and +staying power to make friends outside one's social grade than in it. +People suspect the motives of those who are crossing the boundaries +between caste and caste; yet the Arlts had trusted Lorimer completely. + +Beatrix had remained thoughtful for some time after Thayer's departure. +Lorimer had called, that same night. His coming had been unexpected; it +had taken Beatrix off her guard. She had been unfeignedly glad to see +him, for his ten-days' absence from her life had been unprecedented in +their acquaintance. The world is wide, yet, owing to some strange law of +attraction, one invariably seems to meet the same people everywhere. +Beatrix had greeted Lorimer more eagerly than she had been aware. She +had tried in vain to keep the fact of the Forbes supper uppermost in her +mind. Instead, it slid into the background, and its place had been taken +by the thought of Lorimer's probable feelings when he received the +smoking cap from the hands of Katarina Arlt. And the evening had hurried +away from her. When it had gone, she had realized with a sudden shock +that her girlhood was ended. She was the plighted bride of Sidney +Lorimer, and, distrustful of her own mental grasp of the fact, she had +ruthlessly waked up her mother to tell her what had occurred. Later, +she had not understood the motive which had led her to her mother's +room. As a rule, she was self-reliant, and adjusted herself to a crisis +without caring to talk it over. For the once, however, she felt the need +of being strengthened by the enthusiastic delight of Mrs. Dane whose +sentimental hopes had centered in Lorimer from the hour of his +introduction to her only child. + +All this had passed in review through Beatrix's mind, and it seemed long +to her since Lorimer's last words, when he said,-- + +"Don't think I am depreciating Thayer, Beatrix. He is one of the finest +fellows who ever came out of the Creator's hands. In his worst moods, he +is away ahead of most of the men one meets. Some day, I hope you may +know him for what he really is." + +There was true generosity underlying Lorimer's frank words. He was still +smarting from his contact with Thayer, that afternoon, for Thayer had +heard of a dinner at the club, on the previous night, and had spoken a +quiet warning. It was only such a warning as he had given, a dozen times +before; he knew just how Lorimer would resent it, then accept it, and it +would have made no difference to him, could he have foreseen that, in +his resentment, Lorimer's words to Beatrix would be slightly tinged with +aloes. It is not certain that, foreseeing, he would have cared. Beatrix +was nothing to him; of Lorimer he was strangely fond. + +Beatrix had felt some curiosity as to the effect Thayer's voice might +have upon her. Familiarity in all truth does breed contempt, and a +second hearing often proves a disappointment. For Lorimer's sake, she +was anxious to enjoy the recital, and she drew a quick, nervous breath +as Thayer, followed by Arlt, came striding out across the little stage +with the same unconscious ease with which he had crossed her parlor, the +week before. As he waited for Arlt to seat himself, he glanced about the +room, his practised eye measuring its size and the probable nature of +his audience. For an instant, his glance rested upon Beatrix and +Lorimer, and he gave a slight smile of recognition. Then his shoulders +straightened and he came to attention, as Arlt struck the opening chord +of his accompaniment. + +He had chosen to begin his programme, that night, with the _Infelice_ +for, in spite of its Verdiism, it had been a favorite of his old master +in Berlin. Before he had sung a dozen notes, Beatrix, bending forward, +was listening with parted lips and flushing cheeks. Of Thayer as a man +who had dallied with one of her cups of tea, she took no account; but +his voice, sweet and flexible, was tugging at her nerves and setting +them vibrating with its note of passionate sadness. Then, gathering +power and intensity, it swept its hearers along upon its furious +tempest; yet, as she listened, Beatrix felt herself inspired for, +underneath it all, there was the same throbbing, insistent note which +seemed to assure her that the singer had hoped and lost and fought and +conquered, that he knew all about it, himself. + +Lorimer nodded contentedly at the stage, as Thayer ended his song. + +"That's all right; but they would better save their strength, for he +never gives an encore for the first number. What do you think of Thayer +now, Beatrix?" + +She caught her breath sharply. + +"That I should be a better woman, if I could hear him sing often." + +"There's something in what you say. He makes me feel it, too. I never +have heard him sing better, though he always does that song well. He +told me once that he felt possessed with the spirit of his own +grandfather, whenever he started it. From all signs, his grandfather +must have been an intolerable old person to get on with, if he could +rage in that fashion." + +"Possibly he had occasion." Beatrix forced herself to speak lightly, +though it was an effort for her to resume the accent and manner which +befitted the place. + +"Perhaps. He was a Russian musician with a young wife. Now for the +Schubert group! Thayer's reputation is made, though; he can sing through +his nose now, and they will think it a beautiful manifestation of +individual genius. I only hope that Arlt will do one tenth as well." + +It proved that Arlt did fully six tenths as well, and was applauded to +the echo. To the undiscerning ear, he won even more than his share of +applause; but Beatrix, her nerves still tense from _The Erl-King_, felt +a difference in the quality of the welcome to the two musicians. The +critical few were impartial, and in the case of Arlt they led a wavering +fugue of the uncritical many. Arlt was young, small and insignificant. +His tailor was not an artist, and Arlt was too palpably conscious that +his coat tails demanded respectful care. Society applauded Arlt with +punctilious courtesy; but it promptly took Thayer to its bosom and +caressed him with enthusiasm. + +Late in the evening, Beatrix brought her father to the corner where +Thayer, with Arlt beside him, was still holding a sort of court, and the +four of them were talking quietly when Mrs. Stanley came pushing her way +towards them. + +"I must add my word of congratulation, Mr. Thayer," she said, as she +graciously offered him a pudgy bundle of white kid fingers. "You have +made a wonderful success, and it won't be long before you have New York +at your feet." + +Thayer glanced down at his patent leather shoes. + +"It would be a good deal in the way, Mrs. Stanley. Let us hope it will +stay where it belongs," he answered gravely. + +"How ungrateful you artists are! But I shall always be so glad and proud +to think that your first song in New York was in my house." + +"But it wasn't." + +Her face fell. + +"I thought--Wasn't that your first recital? I am sure you said--" + +His smile went no further than his lips, for his clear gray eyes +appeared to be taking her mental and spiritual measure, with some little +disappointment at the result. + +"It was my first recital, Mrs. Stanley; but not my first song. I sang +German folk songs to Arlt's landlady, half the afternoon before. You +remember Mr. Arlt, I think." + +She glanced around with a carelessness which ignored the hand that the +boy shyly extended towards her. + +"Oh, yes, very pleased," she said vaguely. Then, with a resumption of +her former manner, she turned back to Thayer. "And I thought you +promised to drop in for a cup of tea, some Thursday, Mr. Thayer." + +Beatrix was deaf to his answer. She had turned to Arlt who, scarlet with +hurt and anger, stood alone in his corner by the piano. + +"Mr. Arlt," she said gayly; "it is very warm here, and I know where they +keep the frappé. Shall we leave my father here, and run off in search of +some goodies? You ought to be hungry, after playing for two hours. +Come!" + +And Arlt, surprised at the sudden winning intonations which had crept +into her voice, dodged around the portly back of Mrs. Stanley and +followed Beatrix out of the room. For the moment, the haughty woman had +changed to a jovial, friendly girl, no more awe-inspiring than Katarina, +in spite of her wonderful gown and the fluffy white thing in her hair; +and the artist, in his turn, changed into a normal hungry boy, as he +followed her away. + +So absorbed were they in each other that they failed to see Bobby Dane +who met them upon the threshold, on his way to join the group they had +just left. + +"Beg pardon, Thayer; but can I speak to you for a moment?" he said +abruptly. + +His uncle turned to Mrs. Stanley with old-fashioned pomposity. + +"May I have the pleasure of taking you to the dining-room?" he asked. + +"What is it, Dane?" Thayer asked, as soon as they were alone, for +Bobby's face showed that something was amiss. + +"It's Lorimer in the smoking-room. That beast of a Lloyd Avalons has +opened a perfect bar in there, and--and Lorimer is making a bit of a cad +of himself," Bobby confessed reluctantly. "I tried to get him away; but +he wouldn't come, and I thought perhaps you could start him. It's not +that he is drunk, only he is talking rather too much, and I want to get +him off before Beatrix gets wind of it. You know girls--" + +"I know," Thayer assented gravely. "I'll see what I can do with him." + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +"You musicians make me deadly weary," Bobby proclaimed, from his +favorite rostrum of the hearthrug. + +"Is that the reason you are trying to sit on them, Bobby?" his cousin +asked. "You'll find an easy chair just as restful to you and a good deal +more so to the musician." + +Bobby waved her remark aside. + +"Don't interrupt me, Beatrix. I have things I wish to say." + +"Very likely; but it is barely possible that somebody else also may have +things he wishes to say, and can't, because you talk so much." + +"Sally is busy eating bonbons, and Thayer would much better wait till I +get through his indictment. He'll need all his voice to defend himself." + +Sally glanced up. + +"Go on, Bobby," she said encouragingly. "The sooner it is over, the +better." + +"Thank you. Then I have the floor. Thayer, I never believe in talking +about people behind their backs, so I look you squarely in the eye and +ask you if you ever realize that you don't amount to much, after all." + +"Who told you?" + +"Nobody. I evolved it." + +"I didn't know you were a critic." + +"I'm not, nor yet an interpreting artist. I create." + +"What, I should like to know!" This was from Sally. + +"Scareheads. I do them. If that's not creating, I should like to know +what is. They never have any connection with facts." + +"What is your grievance?" Thayer asked languidly. + +"I was just getting to that. As I say, I create. You only interpret. I +don't know as it counts that you don't try to interpret my scareheads, +though some of them would make stunning fugues. Take the last one, for +instance: _Billions at Stake: Potato Corner in Prospect_. You could work +up something fine from that, Thayer. Think of the chest tones you could +throw into the single word _Potato_!" + +"Bobby, you are growing discursive," his cousin reminded him. + +"No; it is only my rhetorical method. I shall bring you up with a round +turn, before you know it. Well, granted that we represent the two +classes, the creative and the interpretive, which is the greater?" + +"How can we tell, unless you stand back to back?" Sally inquired. + +But by this time, Bobby was fairly launched. + +"The fact is, you singers and players have a smug little fashion of +forgetting that there is a composer back of you. You don't sing +extempore, Thayer, make up the song as you go along. You're nothing more +than a species of elocutionist, you know, trying to show the people who +weren't on the spot what the composer really did when he created the +thing." + +"Animated phonograph records, in short?" Thayer suggested. + +"Yes, if you choose to call it that. Of course you count for something, +else every composer could make a set of records and dispense with his +interpreting artist once for all. But you fellows honestly do make an +awful fuss about yourselves; now don't you?" + +"Bobby!" Beatrix protested. + +"Oh, yes; but I'm not meaning anything personal," Bobby responded +amicably. "We know that Thayer's voice is beyond all odds the best we +have heard for a three years. How do you do it, Thayer? You look as calm +as a Dutch dolly; but you manage to tear us all to bits. Even I felt +sanctified at your recital, and Miss Van Osdel's lashes were freighted +with unshed tears." + +"That must be one of your next week's scareheads," she objected. "I +never cry in public where there are electric lights, Mr. Thayer; it's +horribly unbecoming to most women. But I did have to say a nonsense +rhyme over to myself, to keep steady." + +"Yes, I taught you that trick," Beatrix asserted suddenly. "Lear is very +soothing in an emotional crisis. _The Rubáiyát_ for gooseflesh and Lear +for tears is my rule. _The Jumblies_ carried me safely through the fifth +act of _Cyrano_. But go on, Bobby. We are nearly ready to change the +subject." + +"Now take that recital of yours," Bobby pursued meditatively. "You were +there to interpret Schubert and Franz and those fellows; but nobody is +talking about Schubert and Franz, to-day. It is all Thayer, Cotton +Mather Thayer, Baritone. It's all right enough. You did them awfully +well; but there's the Them in the background, and it's not decent to +forget Them." + +Thayer laughed good-naturedly. It was impossible to take offence at the +mock seriousness of Bobby's harangue. Furthermore, it held its own grain +of truth, even though the grain was buried in an infinite amount of +chaff. + +"I do occasionally remember that there was a composer," he suggested; +"and, in case of the dead ones, you need somebody to sing them." + +"Ye-es," Bobby replied grudgingly; "and in case of the live ones, too, +sometimes. I have an idea that you make a good deal better noise out of +it than most of these old duffers would do. It is only that you take all +the glory for the whole business. The newsboys on the street corners +have no right to take the credit for my scareheads." + +"They are a self-respecting race, Bobby; they don't want to." + +"How unkind of you, Sally! But the cases are analogous. And my final +point, aside from professional jealousy, is the economy of time. You +grub longer over learning to sing a song than it takes the composer to +write it, and, when you're through, you've only reproduced somebody +else's ideas. Why can't you be original? Next time you feel musically +inclined, just say to yourself, 'Go to, now! Let us create!' It won't +take a bit longer, and really it's not hard to do. I know, because, you +see, I do it." + +"Bravo, Bobby! I am delighted to hear that you ever do anything." + +At the new voice, Bobby whirled around and bowed himself into a right +angle, while Beatrix rose and crossed the room to greet the guest. + +"Miss Gannion! What joy to see you!" + +Thayer's Russian blood received swift impressions; his Puritanism made +him weigh and measure with careful deliberation. Now, as he bowed in +acknowledgment of the introduction, he was conscious that in Margaret +Gannion he was meeting a woman who would bear either test. She seemed to +him one of the most strongly individual women he had ever met; yet at +the same time he had a comfortable sense of an infinite number of points +of mental contact. Later, he was destined to learn that this sense was +not imparted to himself alone. Margaret Gannion was tangent to many +lives. + +"What is the discussion?" she inquired, as she seated herself. + +"No discussion at all, Miss Gannion. Bobby is doing a monologue on +music, and the rest of us can't get a word in edgewise." + +"Have you joined the ranks of the musicians, Bobby?" + +"Yes, or the angels," Sally responded for him. "Nothing else could have +such a fatal facility for harping on one string." + +"I was so sorry to lose your recital, Mr. Thayer," Miss Gannion said, +after a while, as she turned her steady brown eyes on the young man. "I +was in Boston, that week, and I am told that I missed one of the treats +of the season. When am I to have another chance of hearing you?" + +Thayer hesitated for a moment, while his gray eyes met the brown ones +that seemed to be taking his mental measure. Apparently both were +satisfied with what they saw, for they exchanged a smile of sudden +understanding. Then Thayer's face grew grave. + +"Whenever you wish," he replied quietly. + +"Does that mean you will sing to me, myself? I should never have dared +hope for that." + +"Why not? That is, if you will let me bring Arlt with me. I dislike to +force him upon people; but he is the only accompanist I really enjoy." + +Beatrix looked up with a laugh. + +"You never asked if you might bring him here, Mr. Thayer." + +Suddenly he rose. + +"May I take that as a hint, Miss Dane? I can play a few accompaniments +after a fashion." And, without waiting for the response which was sure +to come, he crossed the room to the piano. + +He sang Schubert's _Haiden Röslein_ and an American song or two. The +hush over the room deepened, as the last words fell on the stillness,-- + + _"Oh barren gain! Oh bitter loss! + I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn + To kiss the cross--"_ + +And, in the midst of the stillness, he rose and quietly returned to his +old place by the fire. + +It was long before anyone spoke. Then even Miss Gannion's level voice +jarred upon the silence. + +"You have a wonderful gift in your keeping, Mr. Thayer," was all she +said. + +But Beatrix was silent, her eyes fixed on the glowing coals. At length +she roused herself with an effort. Reverie was not permissible for a +hostess on her reception day. She came out of hers, to find that the +conversation had broken into duets. At one side of the table, Bobby and +Sally were sparring vivaciously; at the other, Miss Gannion and Thayer +had fallen into quiet talk about certain common friends and about the +simplest method of helping Arlt to gain the professional recognition he +deserved and needed. + +"I'm not potent at all," Miss Gannion said regretfully. "I only know +people who are, and they are not always receptive in their minds. Still, +I may be able to do something, and he made a good impression at Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons's recital. In the meantime, bring him to my home, some +evening soon. Friday is my day; but, if you don't mind--" + +Thayer understood her. + +"Arlt will like it a great deal better, and so shall I. He is a shy +fellow, and he never shows at his best, when too many people are about." + +Miss Gannion's face betrayed her relief. She had not meant to seem +inhospitable; neither had she desired apparently to be scheming for a +free recital. It was a precarious matter, this establishing social +relations with a really great artist who had just expressed his +willingness to sing in private life. Miss Gannion's acquaintance was +large and of many lines; but Thayer was a new species to her, and she +had felt somewhat at a loss how to treat him, as artist or as mere man. +Thayer's answer inclined her to the latter alternative. + +"What about Saturday, then?" she asked. "I shall be at home, that +night." + +"Please ask me, Miss Gannion," Bobby entreated. + +Miss Gannion shook her head. + +"No; you are too much in evidence, Bobby. You would distract my mind +from Mr. Arlt, and this is his party, you know. Even Mr. Thayer is +subordinate. But, Beatrix child, where is Mr. Lorimer? I thought surely +I should find him here, to-day. I've not congratulated him yet. That was +one thing that brought me here." + +Beatrix flushed a little. + +"Mr. Lorimer was called to Washington, last Thursday," she answered so +evenly that no one would have suspected the wondering annoyance which +his hasty note of explanation had caused her. + +"Then he was here for your recital." Miss Gannion turned back to Thayer +once more. "Didn't someone tell me you were old friends, Mr. Thayer? It +must have been a very exhilarating night for him, this American début of +yours." + +For the space of a minute, out of her four hearers, three were holding +their breath. Under the promise of the strictest secrecy, Bobby had +confided to Sally the story of the scene in the smoking-room; and, like +two conspirators, they had spent a long evening in stealthy discussion +of the best way to keep the matter from the ears of Beatrix. Sally liked +Lorimer; Bobby detested him, yet to neither of them had the matter +seemed of quite sufficient importance to justify a broken engagement, +and they were too well acquainted with the strict code of Beatrix Dane +to doubt what would be the outcome of the affair, if the facts were to +reach her ears. Sally was less mature, less aware of the danger inherent +in the situation, less strong in her condemnation of what she termed +"friskiness." Bobby, with a shrug of his shoulders, admitted that a man +should not be condemned for a first offence, that there was plenty of +time to watch for a repetition of the affair, to warn Beatrix then and +to allow her to take her own course as seemed good to her. Meanwhile, +there was no use in disturbing her for nothing. It might be a single +slip, such as all men are liable to make. Of course, as Sally argued, +Lorimer had been under strong excitement, that evening, partly by reason +of his own newly-announced engagement, partly by reason of the brilliant +success of his friend. Lloyd Avalons was just the man to take advantage +of such a situation, and to think it a huge piece of humorous +hospitality to throw Lorimer off his guard. Lloyd Avalons had never +joined the camp of the prohibitionists, himself, and he saw no reason +for staying the appetites of his guests. To his mind, that Sidney +Lorimer could drink too much wine in his house presupposed a certain +intimacy. At least, if the incident were to be mentioned, their names +were bound to be bracketed with each other. Like his wife, Lloyd Avalons +possessed his social ambitions. + +In the most accurate use of the words, Lorimer had not been drunk, only +intoxicated. When Thayer, with Bobby at his side, had appeared in the +door of the smoking-room, Lorimer had been more flushed, more garrulous +than was his wont, more inclined to the French doctrine of equality and +fraternity. In some moods, he would not have tolerated the arm of Lloyd +Avalons which now rested across the back of his chair. + +The scene lasted only for an instant. Thayer went into the room, +accepted a dozen hot hands whose owners were trying rather incoherently +to congratulate him upon his success, waved aside the wine offered him, +and, with a word of excuse, bent down and spoke quietly to Lorimer. + +"Beg pardon, Mr. Avalons," he said shortly; "but I have a message for +Mr. Lorimer. He is needed on business, and I shall have to take him +away. Please give my good-night to Mrs. Avalons. My cab is waiting, and +I can set Lorimer down at his club." And, with a bow, he had left the +room, with Lorimer sullenly following at his heels. + +In Lorimer's room, Thayer broke the silence which had lasted during +their drive along the brilliantly-lighted Avenue. He had watched his +companion's face keenly and with an understanding born of similar +scenes, and he knew it would not be well to use many words. However, as +he was leaving Lorimer, he turned back. + +"This is once too often, Lorimer," he said briefly. "You've somebody +besides yourself to think of now. If I were in your place, I would have +important business call me to Washington, in the morning, and I would +stay down there for a few days. It will give you time to think things +over, and find out just where you stand." + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +Miss Gannion nestled luxuriously back into the depths of her easy chair. + +"Do you know, Mr. Thayer, it is a very wonderful experience, this having +a species of court musician?" + +He laughed the silent laugh she liked so well. It came from between +close-shut teeth; but it lighted his whole face. + +"As wonderful as it is to have a good listener who always understands +and rarely praises?" he asked. + +Under her thin, middle-aged skin, the flush rose to her cheeks, turning +them to the dainty likeness of youth. + +"You say very pleasant things." + +"True ones. If this keeps on, I shall begin using you as critic for all +my new songs." + +"Like the fabled dog? I wish you would. But, truly, I am not joking. You +are quite spoiling me for my usual diet of recitals. Do you realize +that, for the past two months, you have sung to me on an average of two +hours a week?" + +Thayer smiled contentedly down at her, as he sat by the piano, with one +muscular arm thrown across the rack. + +"Well, what of it?" he inquired. + +"Nothing, except that people say you are refusing engagements." + +"A fellow must have a little time to enjoy his friends," he returned +coolly. "I can't be expected to sing, six nights a week." + +"Your logic betrays your artistic nature. You have sung at five +recitals, this week. This is the sixth night; but you've not been +silent." + +"You know you wanted to hear _Faust_ sung again." + +"Yes, and so did Mrs. Stanley want you to sing at her house." + +He looked up sharply. + +"Who told you?" + +"Mr. Arlt." + +"Arlt shouldn't tell tales. But I had three good reasons for refusing: I +don't like Mrs. Stanley; she doesn't treat Arlt as well as she treats +her pug dog, and moreover you had asked me to dinner. I never sing after +a good dinner." + +"But you mustn't refuse engagements." + +"I didn't. I kept one." + +"Engagements to sing, I mean. You seem to forget that you are a star." + +"All the more reason I should stop twinkling now and then. I can't be on +duty, the whole time. Besides, Miss Gannion," he rose from the piano and +came forward to her side; "we can't give out, all the time. We must stop +occasionally to take something in, else our mental fuel runs low. I +wonder if you realize that this is the one place in New York City where +I can be entirely off my guard, entirely at home. A place like this +means a good deal to an isolated man." + +"I am very glad," she said quietly. + +"Most people forget that a public singer has a private personality," he +went on thoughtfully. "We are supposed to divide our time into even +thirds, practising, singing and receiving compliments. It gets to be a +positive delight to discuss the weather and the fashion in neckties." + +"And to sing by the hour for your friends?" she inquired. + +"It is our easiest way of speaking to them." + +She laughed. + +"But, on the other hand, you are demoralizing me completely. You have no +idea what empty, formal affairs recitals seem to me now; they are so +impersonal. I feel like grumbling, because I can't talk over each item +of the programme with the one who does it. I said something of the sort +to Miss Dane, the other day; but she told me she always dreaded the +sound of a speaking voice after one of your songs." + +"She might have a species of choral service evolved for social use," +Thayer suggested dryly. "The Gregorian tones would lend dignity even to +conventionalities, and they are quite within the powers of any amateur." + +There was an interval of silence which Miss Gannion employed in bringing +herself back to the physical world around her. Thayer's singing always +swayed her profoundly; it gave her the impression of the ultimate +satisfaction of a wish which had haunted her whole life. During the past +two months, she and Thayer had established relations of cordial +friendship. They had met frequently in the world which already was +clamorous for Thayer's appearing, and Thayer was a frequent guest at +Miss Gannion's home. He always sang to her; it had become so much a +matter of routine that now he never waited for an invitation. Once +seated at the piano, talking and singing by turns, she allowed him to +follow out the bent of his mood; but, wherever it led him, she was +always conscious of the insistent, throbbing note which told her that, +underneath his self-control, there pulsed a fiery nature which was +curbed, but not yet tamed, that the day might come when the Puritan +would meet the Russian face to face, and the Russian would be dominant, +if only for one brief hour. And then? Often as she asked herself the +question, Margaret Gannion never swerved from her original answer. In +the end, the Puritan would rule. No man could so dominate others and +fail to dominate himself. + +Thayer, meanwhile, had risen and was thoughtfully pacing the room. Miss +Gannion shook off the last of her reverie and turned to watch him. + +"What is it, Mr. Thayer?" she inquired suddenly. + +He came back to the fire and, deliberately moving the trinkets on the +mantel, made a place for his elbow. Then he hesitated, with his clear, +deep-set eyes resting on her face. + +"I think I am going to ask your advice," he said slowly. + +"Or my approval. It amounts to the same thing in a man." + +It was a direct challenge, and it was made with deliberate intention. +Accustomed as she was to the semi-imaginary mental crises of +struggling, strenuous youth, she yet shrank from the intentness of +Thayer's mood. + +He ignored the challenge. + +"No; it is advice whether to act at all. Later, when I have acted, it +will be time to demand your approval." + +"But you may not like my advice." + +"Very possibly. I am not binding myself to follow it." + +Her color came again this time not altogether from pleasure. + +"Then why do you ask it?" + +"Because I need fresh light on the subject. As often as I go over it, I +find myself in a mental blind alley, and I am hoping that, if I talk it +over with you, I shall clear up my ideas and perhaps get some new ones." + +His tone was dispassionate, yet kindly. With a pang, Miss Gannion +admitted to herself the futility of her ever hoping to gain so +impersonal an attitude. She was intensely feminine, which is to say, +intensely subjective. Talking to Thayer in his present mood gave her the +feeling that unexpectedly she had collided with an iceberg. Glittering +coldness is an admirable surface to watch; but not an altogether +comfortable one upon which to rest. The touch set her to stinging, +although she realized that the sting was out of all proportion to the +touch. She was silent, and Thayer went on,-- + +"You know the people, one of them much better than I do." + +"Then it is not about yourself?" + +Thayer shook his head. + +"I rarely ask help in solving my own problems," he replied. Then, as he +saw her face, he suddenly realized that he had hurt her in some unknown +fashion. "That sounds rather brutal," he added; "but, if you will think +it over a bit, you will see it is wise. I don't believe in wasting +words, and there is no real use in talking some things over. A man knows +he can't state his own problem impartially to someone else, so of course +he isn't going to trust someone else's solution of the problem." + +Her smile came back again. + +"No," she assented; "but there is a certain comfort in talking things +over." + +"Not for me. If I have anything to do, I grit my teeth and do it, and +waste as little thought upon it as possible. Iteration makes good into a +bore. It is best to let it alone. And of bad, the less said, the better, +that is, when it is a matter of one's own personality. But now I want +to talk about Miss Dane." + +"Beatrix?" + +"Yes. I have felt anxious about her lately, and I haven't known whether +to keep still, or to speak. It all seems a good deal like meddling, and +I really know her so little." + +It was unlike his usual directness to wander on in this fashion, and +Miss Gannion wondered. She started to speak; then she thought better of +it and leaned back in her chair. The ticking of the clock and the +snapping of the fire mingled in a staccato duet. A stick burned in two +and fell apart, with tiny, torch-like flames dancing on its upturned +ends. Methodically Thayer bent over and piled up the embers. Then he +spoke again. + +"And so I thought I would speak to you about it. You have known Miss +Dane always, and you know New York and how it looks at such things. I +imagine you take it more seriously, here in America. It is serious, God +knows, and yet it may not amount to anything." + +Margaret Gannion straightened up and spoke with a sudden assumption of +dignity which seemed to add inches to her moral and physical stature. + +"To what are you referring, Mr. Thayer?" + +"I beg your pardon. I thought you knew. I am talking about Lorimer." + +"What about him?" + +Man as he was, Thayer flinched under her keen eyes. All at once, he +realized that Margaret Gannion included among her friends Beatrix Dane, +and that it was Margaret Gannion's habit to fight for her friends. + +"I had hoped you would understand without my putting it into so many +words. Lorimer has been my friend for years, and it seems rather beastly +to begin talking him over; but--" + +"But?" Miss Gannion's tone was as hard and ringing as steel. + +"But he sometimes takes a little more wine than is altogether wise," +Thayer replied, with brief directness. + +Miss Gannion dropped back in her chair. + +"Does--does he get--drunk?" she questioned sharply. + +"No. That is too strong a word. He is imprudent, foolish. Still, one +never knows what may come." + +"Poor Beatrix!" Miss Gannion said softly. + +Thayer faced her again. + +"Understand me, Miss Gannion; I am not doing this for love of gossip. +Miss Dane is nothing to me, and I like Lorimer immensely. But there is +a good deal at stake, and I am not sure how much I ought to leave to +chance. Lorimer is one of the most lovable fellows in the world, +generous and loyal; but he is weak. He was born so; I fancy it is in the +blood. If Miss Dane is strong enough and has tact, perhaps she can hold +him steady. He can't be driven an inch; but he can be led a long way." + +Miss Gannion brushed her hair away from her face with an odd, bewildered +gesture. + +"Wait," she said breathlessly. "I love Beatrix, and it makes me slow to +take this in. How long has it been going on?" + +Thayer's lips tightened. + +"Ever since I have known him," he answered reluctantly. + +"Much?" + +"No, comparatively little." + +"Often?" + +"Well--" The lengthening of the word told its own story. + +"Does it increase?" + +His expression answered her, and she took the answer in perfect silence. +It was a full minute before she spoke again; but when she did speak, her +voice had the old, level intonation. + +"Are you willing to tell me just how far the trouble has gone, Mr. +Thayer?" + +"It is a hard matter to measure. Lorimer drinks less than a good many +men; but it takes less to upset him. In Germany, the students all drink, +and he was with them. As a rule, he stopped in time, but occasionally he +was a little silly. Once or twice it was worse." + +"How much worse?" The question was almost masculine in its direct +brevity. + +"I helped him to bed." + +She compressed her lips. Then,-- + +"Go on," she said. + +"I can't tell what happened while I was in Italy, and Lorimer had left +Berlin before I went back there, so I didn't see him till I came to New +York. At first, I thought he had stopped all that sort of thing. His +color was better, his hand steadier. I knew the temptation was less +here, and I hoped he was so taken up with Miss Dane that he wouldn't +have time to get into the wrong set. The night of the Lloyd Avalons's +recital, he was not quite himself, and I advised him to go to Washington +while the matter blew over." + +"Strange I didn't hear of it," Miss Gannion said thoughtfully. + +"Dane and I saw to it that the story shouldn't get outside the walls of +the smoking-room. Dane is a good fellow, and no fool. He got wind of the +trouble and came for me, and we hurried Lorimer away as fast as +possible. The next day, I began to hear of a supper or two where Lorimer +had been making himself a bit conspicuous." + +"And since then?" + +"Only twice." + +"But twice is more than enough." + +"It shows that the trouble is still there, that one can't count on his +promises," Thayer assented gravely. + +"He does promise?" + +"Yes, like a child. That is the pitiful part of it, pitiful and yet +exasperating. He admits his own weakness, and is sorry and ashamed, as +soon as he comes to himself. For a time, he is a model of caution and +sobriety. Then he blunders into the way of temptation and makes a mess +of it all." Unconsciously Thayer's voice betrayed his dislike of a +weakness of which he had no comprehension. An instant later, he seemed +to realize his own self-betrayal and he pulled himself up sharply. "I +wish you knew Lorimer better, Miss Gannion. Then you would understand +why I am telling you all this. He is so loyal, so generous to his +friends, so full of talent. At Göttingen, they called him the most +brilliant American who had ever studied there, and he was by all odds +the most popular fellow of his time. His very popularity increased the +danger." As if he had been pleading his own cause, Thayer's voice was +full of earnest eagerness. Even in the midst of her anxiety and pain, +Miss Gannion felt the power of its flexible modulation; and her +half-formulated condemnation of Lorimer stayed itself. + +Thayer broke the silence which followed, and his accent was resonant +again. + +"There's no especial use in thrashing over the past. The present is none +too good; but my question is simply in relation to the future." + +"And the question is?" Miss Gannion asked. + +"Whether we ought to tell Miss Dane," he answered briefly. + +"It will kill her." The feminine in Margaret Gannion was uppermost once +more. + +"Such wounds are more likely to mangle than to kill." Thayer spoke +grimly. + +"Poor Beatrix!" + +"She does love him, then? I didn't see how she could help it." + +Margaret Gannion's hands shut on a fold of her skirt. + +"She loves him better than she loves her life; but she loves right +better than either." + +"And what is right?" + +"I am not sure," she confessed weakly. "I can't seem to analyze it at +all. What do you think?" + +"That she ought to be told." + +"What good will it do?" + +"At least, it will put her on her guard." + +"Against what? From your own showing, it is like fighting an unseen +enemy. One never knows when or where it will come. She will only be put +under a terrible nervous strain, faced by a fear that will haunt her, +day and night. Besides, she might break the engagement. Have you thought +of that?" + +"It was of that I was thinking. She ought to have the facts, and be +allowed to face the alternatives before it is too late. Miss Gannion," +he turned upon her sharply; "can't you realize the pain it is to me to +be saying this? I love Lorimer, love him as one man rarely loves +another. Perhaps I love him all the more for his lack of strength. But +that is no reason I should let him make havoc of a girl's whole life, +perhaps of other lives to come. Miss Dane loves him; moreover, she is +very proud. She is bound to suffer keenly on both scores." + +"Then you think--" + +"That the trouble is likely to increase." + +"And, if she breaks her engagement to him?" + +"That it will increase all the faster. She has a strong hold on him." + +"And you would run the risk of loosing this hold, when you know the +danger to your friend?" + +"Yes, when I see the danger to Miss Dane." + +Miss Gannion's hands unclasped, and she looked up at him with the +pitiful, drooping lips of a frightened child. Like Thayer, she too loved +Lorimer. + +"It is terrible, Mr. Thayer. I can see no way out of the trouble; it +stands on either side of the path. But do you think she could hold him, +if she were to try?" + +"It is an open question. Lorimer is weak; but I am not sure how strong +she is, nor how patient. If she could steady him and forgive him +ninety-nine times, it is possible that, on the hundredth, she would have +nothing to forgive. But that is asking too much of a woman, that she +should sacrifice her pride and her hope to her loyalty and her love." + +"I think Beatrix would do it." + +"Perhaps. At least, though, she ought to have the right to choose for +herself." + +Once more Miss Gannion mastered herself. + +"I am not sure. You make the alternatives certain ruin and possible +salvation. I should cling to the chance." + +"And take the responsibility of silence?" + +"It is a responsibility; but I should assume it for the present. What we +should say to her could never be unsaid. It might do good; it might do +terrible harm. It is possible that the truth may come to her in some +other way. I should certainly prefer that it might." + +He bent over the fire for a moment. Then he straightened up and threw +back his shoulders, like a man relieved of the burden of a heavy load. + +"Then that is your final advice?" he asked slowly. + +She made answer just as slowly,-- + +"Mr. Thayer, I am growing older than I used to be, and things don't look +quite so plain to me as they did once. Motives mix themselves more, and +I am not so ready to put my finger on my neighbor's nerve. If I were in +your place, I--rather think I should say my prayers, and then wait." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +"I believe I should hate to have Mr. Thayer fall in love with me," Sally +observed thoughtfully. + +"I wouldn't worry about it yet," Bobby said unkindly. "He yawned twice, +last night, while he was talking to you." + +Sally's answer was prompt. + +"Yes, we were discussing you." + +"Why didn't you call me over to give you some points? It is the only +subject upon which I can speak with authority. But just think what a +lover Thayer would make, troubadouring around under windows!" + +Sally counted swiftly. + +"There are nineteen families in our hotel, Bobby, and thirteen of them +have marriageable daughters. Imagine the creaking of casements, when Mr. +Thayer warbled, 'Open the window to me, Love!' Troubadours will do for +the country; in town, one can heed only the impersonal strains of the +hurdy-gurdy. But really--" + +"Yes?" Bobby's accent was encouraging. + +"If Mr. Thayer should fall in love and get engaged, what could the girl +call him? His name doesn't lend itself easily to endearments." + +"His mother ought to have thought of that, when she named him." + +"It is a case of visiting the father's sins upon the child of the sixth +generation. He is only Volume Seven in the series of Cotton Mathers." + +Bobby plunged his fists into his pockets. + +"That is a respectable custom; but a mighty stupid one. A fellow +oughtn't to be labelled like one of a class. Might as well catalogue +children, and done with it, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and so on through the +list of Thayers. Then, when he came to years of discretion, he could +pick for himself. Do you suppose I would have been Bobby, if I had been +consulted?" + +"What then?" Beatrix asked, pausing in her talk with Lorimer. + +"Demosthenes Alphonso, of course. That's something worth while." + +"Demosthenes Alphonso Dane. D. A. D." Sally commented irrepressibly. +Then she swept across the room and, parting the curtains, peeped out +between them. "Beatrix, the Philistines be upon you! Here comes Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons. Oh, why was I the first to come? As a rule, I believe in +the rotation of callers as implicitly as I do in the rotation of crops. +Bobby, you came next. How long do you mean to stay?" + +"Till the almonds are gone, or till Beatrix turns me out," he replied +imperturbably. + +"All right. Give me five minutes' warning. You can twirl your thumbs, +when it is time for me to start; but I am bound to see some of the fun." + +"Now, children, you must be good," Beatrix implored them hurriedly. +"Bobby, do try to talk about something she can understand." + +"If you want to condemn me to the conversational limits of a mummy, say +so in plain Saxon," he retorted. "How can I talk about something that +doesn't exist?" + +"Bobby!" Sally's tone was full of warning, as Beatrix rose to meet her +guest. + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons had gained one distinct point in her social training. +She had learned to cross a room as if she were doing her hostess a favor +by appearing. Even Beatrix was impressed by the swift, dainty sweep with +which she came forward, and she cast a hasty thought to the quality of +her tea. Bobby, meanwhile, was taking mental stock of Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons's tailor and deciding that he could give points to his own +fellow. For a person who professed to ignore all such detail, Bobby +Dane was singularly critical of feminine dress, as Beatrix had learned +to her cost. + +Seated by the tea-table, balancing a Sčvres cup in her hand, Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons appeared to be casting about in her mind for a subject of +conversation. Bobby came to her relief. + +"When you appeared, Mrs. Avalons, we were just speaking of mummies. Have +you seen the latest importation at the Metropolitan?" + +"Mr. Dane!" she remonstrated hastily. "Do you suppose I--" + +"Certainly," Bobby assured her gravely. "I often spend an hour looking +at them, and I always feel the better for the time passed in their +society. They remind me of the futility of earthly things, and inspire +me to higher aims." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons smiled faintly. + +"You literary people have strange thoughts," she observed, addressing +the room at large. "I have often thought I should like to write, if I +only had the time." + +"Why don't you?" Bobby inquired blandly. "The result would be sure to be +interesting." + +But Beatrix interposed. + +"Are you as busy as ever, Mrs. Avalons?" + +"Busier. It is such a bore to be in this perpetual rush; but I can't +seem to help it. Lent didn't bring me any rest, this year; and, now that +Easter is over, it seems to me that we are more gay than ever." + +"That is the penalty of having an early Easter," Sally suggested. "We +had to stop for Lent in the middle of the season, and now we are +finishing up the sins of which we have already repented." + +"Oh--yes," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons responded blankly. + +"Can you get all your arrears of penitence done up in six weeks, Sally?" +Bobby asked, as he passed her the almonds. + +"Yes, if I've not seen too much of you," she returned. "Mrs. Avalons, +when are you going to give us another recital?" + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons rose to the cast. + +"Wasn't that a success? Mr. Thayer quite covered himself with glory." + +"His mantle fell over some of the rest of us, and we gained lustre from +his glory." Sally's tone was slightly malicious. + +"He is certainly a great artist, and I am proud to have discovered him." + +"But I thought Mrs. Stanley discovered him. He sang for her first." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons straightened in her chair. She had no intention of +allowing to Mrs. Stanley the prestige which belonged to herself. Mrs. +Stanley was several rounds farther up the social ladder than she was, +herself; but Mrs. Stanley lacked initiative and was rapidly losing her +start. In the seasons to come, she would find herself playing the part +of understudy to Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. + +"Oh, Mrs. Stanley heard he was to sing for me, and she cabled across to +him to take an earlier steamer and sing for her first. It was a little +tricky. What is it you call it in the business world, Mr. Dane?" + +"A corner in Cotton," Bobby replied gravely. + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons thought she could see that the point of this joke was +directed against Mrs. Stanley, and she laughed rather more heartily than +good breeding required. In her mirth, she even bent forward in her +chair, writhing slightly to and fro, while her silken linings hissed +like angry snakes. Suddenly she realized that she had prolonged her +mirth beyond the limits of the others, and she straightened her face +abruptly. + +"But I am so glad the subject has come up, Miss Dane," she went on. "I +was meaning to ask you whether you thought I could get Mr. Thayer to +sing for our Fresh Air Fund." + +"Really, I have no idea of Mr. Thayer's engagements," Beatrix said +drily. + +"But I thought you knew him so well." + +Beatrix's face expressed her surprise. + +"I know him as I know any number of people, Mrs. Avalons. That doesn't +mean that Mr. Thayer consults me in regard to his plans." + +"Oh, no," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons responded vivaciously. "But couldn't you +just say a good word for us?" + +"I am afraid it wouldn't count for much." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons raised her brows and made a delicate, pushing gesture +with her outspread palms. + +"You are too modest, Miss Dane. We all know your powers of persuasion, +and we are counting on you." + +"Who are _we_?" Sally inquired, in flat curiosity. + +"Mrs. Van Bleeker and Mrs. Knickerbocker and I. We are the committee, +this year, and we are trying to have an uncommonly good concert." + +"It must be very hard for you to work on a music committee with Mrs. Van +Bleeker," Bobby suggested. "She doesn't know a fugue from a bass viol, +and she never hesitates to say so." + +"Therein she differs from most unmusical people," Sally responded, in a +swift aside. "Even truthful people will fib valiantly, where music is +concerned, and go into raptures, when they have hard work to suppress +their yawns. It was a sorry day for music, when it became the fashion." + +"How droll you are, Miss Van Osdel!" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons was nothing, if +not direct, in her personal comments. Then she answered Bobby. "Even if +Mrs. Van Bleeker isn't really musical, it is a delight to work with her, +she is so very charming and so business-like. Strange as it may seem, I +actually take pleasure in our committee meetings, Mr. Dane." + +"I haven't the slightest doubt of it," Bobby responded, with unctuous +emphasis. + +"When is the concert to be, Mrs. Avalons?" Beatrix asked hastily, with a +frown at her cousin who stared blandly back at her. + +"The first week in May, if we can possibly be ready for it. There was so +much, just before Lent, that we postponed it until after Easter. Now we +are no better off, for every day is full, so we are delaying it again. +We want to make it a large affair, don't you know, something that will +attract the swell set and the musical people, too." + +If Bobby Dane hated one word in the language, that word was _swell_. +Accordingly, he glared haughtily across the table at Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons, noting, as he did so, the scornful cadence of her voice over +the final phrase. + +"The two sets rarely mingle, Mrs. Avalons. Which is under your especial +care?" + +Lorimer interposed hurriedly, for he felt the hostility in Bobby's tone, +and he was ignorant of the thickness of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's skin. + +"Both, I should say from the make-up of your recital, Mrs. Avalons. +Society and art both spelled themselves with capital letters, that +night." + +"I am sure it is very kind of you to say so," she answered, while her +pleasure brought the first sincere note into her voice. "I tried to have +something really good. But about this concert; we are to have a soprano +from the Metropolitan Opera House, and possibly a violinist, and we want +Mr. Thayer so much. Do you suppose we could get him?" + +"It might depend a little upon the state of your finances," Bobby +suggested. + +"Oh; but it is for charity, you know." + +"Yes, charity is supposed to be like molasses, sweet and cheap. It isn't +very nourishing to a professional man, though." + +"But Mr. Thayer is not poor." + +"That doesn't signify that he can give all his time for nothing," Bobby +answered rather warmly, considering that the question was utterly +impersonal. "If he sang every day, all winter, for some charity or +other, he couldn't begin to get round in ten years. There ought to be a +new mission started, a Society for the Protection of Over-begged +Artists." + +"But I am only asking him for one charity." + +"That's all anybody is supposed to do. The time hasn't come yet when you +syndicate the job, though I suppose it is only a matter of time." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons looked at him distrustfully for a moment; then she +laughed with a dainty vagueness. + +"You are so amusing, Mr. Dane! One never really knows whether you're in +earnest or not. How many tickets did you say you would take?" + +"One and a half," Sally advised, while Bobby stared at Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons in speechless disgust. "He will go, and take me with him; but +newspaper men are always admitted at half-rates." + +"And you really think Mr. Thayer will sing for us?" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +went on, turning back to Beatrix. "It will be an advantage to him, in a +way, to have sung under the auspices of our committee." + +This time, even Beatrix felt herself antagonized. Thayer belonged to her +own class, and her class was scarcely of the type to need the official +social sanction of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. + +"I have no idea at all in regard to the matter," she answered a little +coldly. "Mr. Thayer appears to me to be able to hold his own, without +the backing of any committee. It simply depends upon his personal +generosity." + +"But it is such a worthy object. And don't you think we could get that +little Arlt to fill in with?" + +"From, by, in, or with charity, and to or for a charity?" Bobby asked +savagely. + +"Oh, of course, we couldn't pay him." There was a falling inflection of +the last word. + +"Then I should advise him to decline charity altogether," Bobby +retorted. + +"It would be an advantage to him to play on such a programme," Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons asserted, as she set down her cup. + +"It would also be an advantage to him to get a little money, now and +then." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons raised her brows. They were daintily-marked brows, +and the expression suited her pretty, empty little face. + +"I think it is something for a man of no reputation at all to have a +chance to be heard in such a connection," she replied a little tartly. + +"Ye-es." Bobby rose with provoking deliberation. "And it is also +possible, Mrs. Avalons, that when we are thankful even to be charted in +Woodlawn, Mr. Arlt's name may be a good deal better known than it is +now. Sally, we are due at the Stuyvesants', and I think we must tear +ourselves away." + +Out in the hall, he addressed himself to Sally. + +"For social pulleys, give me three: music, cheek, and charity, but the +greatest of these is ch--" + +"Charity," amended Sally promptly. + +Bobby gloomily pulled himself into his overcoat. + +"Sally, I abhor that woman," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +"If you once begin, there'll be no end to it," Bobby warned Thayer, when +he announced his intention of singing for the Fresh Air Fund. + +"I never yet found anything I couldn't end, when I tried," Thayer +returned coolly. + +Bobby eyed him askance. + +"Ever tackled Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's idiocy?" he queried. + +"She is not the only one." + +"No; worse luck! But what makes you do it?" + +"I approve the charity, and I happened to have a free night. Moreover, +it will give Arlt a chance to accompany." + +"But she won't pay him." + +"No, but I generally manage to pay my own accompanist." + +"Do you think he will gain from such a thing?" + +Crossing his knees comfortably, Thayer lighted the pipe he had been +filling, and took a tentative puff or two. + +"I don't know," he said dubiously. "He ought to, but I can't seem to +discover the way to get on in this precious country of ours. Arlt is a +musician to the tips of his fingers; I have yet to hear a pianist in the +city to compare with him. And still, nobody manifests the least interest +in him." + +Bobby contemplated the tip of his own cigar, bending his brows and +frowning as much from his optical angle as from his mental one. + +"He lacks the two P's," he said slowly; "pull and personality." + +Impatiently Thayer uncrossed his knees and crossed them in the reverse +position. + +"Do you mean that nothing else counts here?" he demanded. + +"Precious little. A fellow has got to have good lungs for blowing his +own horn, else he is drowned in the general chorus. That's the worst of +music as a profession; personality is everything. You must be perfect or +peculiar. The latter alternative is the greater help. If Arlt would grow +a head of hair, or wear a dinner napkin instead of a necktie, it would +improve his chances wonderfully." + +"But, if the right people would take him up?" Thayer suggested. + +"They won't; or, if they do, they'll drop him as a monkey drops a hot +chestnut. Arlt plays like an artist; but he blushes, and he forgets to +keep his cuffs in sight. He is as unworldly as he is conventional. +Society doesn't care to fuss with him." + +Thayer looked grave. + +"I am having my own share of good times, Dane. It seems as if I ought to +be able--" + +Bobby interrupted him. + +"You can't. No man can hoist his brother into success. It is bound to be +every man for himself. You can work over Arlt till the crack of doom, +and that's all the good it will do him. People will say 'How noble of +Mr. Thayer!' and they will burn moral tapers about your feet; and +meanwhile they'll leave Arlt sitting on the floor alone in the dark." + +"Nevertheless, I think I shall keep on with the experiment," Thayer said +stubbornly. + +"Good luck go with you! But it won't. You can't make the next man's +reputation; he must do it for himself. All art is bound to be a bit +selfish; but music is the worst of the lot. I don't mean composing, of +course, but the interpreting end of it. It's such beastly personal +work; all the nooks and corners of your individuality show up across the +footlights. They are commented upon, and they have to pass muster. +Artistically, you and Arlt are as alike as two peas; personally, you are +positive, he is negative.'" + +There was a pause. Then Thayer said quietly,--"I think I shall sing the +Damrosch _Danny Deever_. It has a stunning accompaniment." + +The committee of the Fresh Air Fund concert showed themselves a potent +trio, and their concert became recognized as the official finale of the +musical season. Their meetings had been fraught with interest, for time, +place and programme all came under detailed discussion. It must be at a +time neither too soon after Easter to collide with it, nor too late to +have a place in the season's gayety. The place must be lofty enough to +lure the world of fashion; yet not so lofty as to deter the simpler folk +to whom the white and gold of the Waldorf ballroom was a mere name, as +remote from their lives as the _Petit Trianon_. The programme must be +classic enough to satisfy the critic; yet tuneful enough not to bore the +amateur, and accordingly it roamed from Brahms to Molloy, and included +that first Slavonic Dance of Dvorák which sets the pulses of Pagan and +Philistine alike to tingling with a barbarous joy in the mere +consciousness of living. Thayer alone had refused to accept dictation at +the hands of the committee. + +"If I consent to sing, I must choose my own songs," he had said quietly +to Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, when she had suggested a modern French love song +in place of the Händel aria he had selected. + +"Oh, but it is so late in the season, and everybody is tired," she had +urged gayly. "If we give them too heavy things on a warm night, they may +go to sleep." + +"Then I shall proceed to wake them up," he replied. "And, for the second +number, the _Danny Deever_, I think." + +"Mr. Thayer! That grewsome thing! Why don't you sing _My Desire_, if you +are so anxious for an American song?" + +"I think _Danny_ will be better. Then we will consider it settled." And +it was not until she was out on the stairs that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +realized she had been defeated and then dismissed by the man whose +patroness she was assuming to be. + +"No matter," she reflected; "we've got to pay Signora Cantabella, and we +can insist upon her singing something a little more digestible. Mr. +Thayer is cranky; but we get him and that little Arlt for nothing, so I +suppose we mustn't be too critical." + +For once, Mrs. Lloyd Avalons showed her good sense. In all truth, +beggars should not be choosers, whether the alms be of bread crusts or +of high art. + +Lorimer dined with Beatrix, that night. Contrary to the custom of the +Danes, they did not linger over the meal; and, as soon as they left the +table, Beatrix and Lorimer strolled away to the conservatory at the back +of the house. The yellow sunset light was still gilding the place, and +through the wide-open windows the night breeze crept in, softly stirring +the heavy palm leaves and scattering the scent of a few late violets +over all the air. + +Refusing the seat which Lorimer silently pointed out to her, Beatrix +paced restlessly up and down the broad middle walk. + +"I think I am nervous, to-night," she said, with an odd little laugh. "I +have been feeling, all day long, as if things were going to happen." + +"Things generally do happen," Lorimer said lightly, as he sauntered +along by her side. + +"Yes; but something unusual, something uncanny." + +Lorimer threw back his head and laughed. + +"I thought you derided presentiments, Beatrix." + +She bit her lip. + +"I do," she said, after a pause. "I know it is foolish, and I am ashamed +of myself; but I dread this recital, to-night, and I dread that hateful +Lloyd Avalons supper after it. Let's not go, Sidney." + +"Oh, but we must. Why not?" + +"They are such impossible people." + +"I know; but everyone will understand that it is on Thayer's account +that we go, Beatrix. And he made such a point of it." + +She drew a long breath. + +"If we must--But I dread it. Do keep Mr. Avalons away from me, then." + +As he looked down at the brown head which scarcely rose above his lips, +Lorimer's smile ceased to be whimsical and became inexpressibly tender +and winning. + +"Count on me, dear girl. He is a brute; but I won't let him go near +you." + +Impulsively she turned and faced him. + +"Sidney," she said, with a breathless catch in her voice; "Sidney--" +Then, while she hesitated, she raised her hands and rested them on his +broad shoulders. "Sidney dearest, do you know what it is to love as I +love you? It would kill me to have anything come in between us." + +Startled by her overwrought nerves, he put his arm around her and drew +her head against his shoulder. + +"I know only one thing, Beatrix," he said gravely; "nothing now can come +between us but death." + +Diamond aigrettes and critical ears both were at the concert, that +night, mingled with a fair sprinkling of those to whom the charity +appealed far more than did the mere musical and worldly phases of the +affair. The little folded programmes were in a way typical of the whole +situation: one page containing the modest announcement of the Fresh Air +Fund concert, the next one the simple statement of the numbers of the +programme, while the third, in full-faced type bore the majestic list of +patronesses. Between his German and Italian fellow artists and his +polysyllabic Dutch sponsors, Thayer's name stood out in all the +aggressiveness of Puritan simplicity. + +As a whole, the concert was as frothy as was the audience. The songs +glittered like the diamonds, and the orchestra played the _Valkyries' +Ride_ with a cheerful abandonment of mirth. + +"Thayer is the only dignified member of the company," Bobby growled into +Sally's ears, as the last note of his aria died away. "The rest of them +are doing tricks like a set of vaudeville artists. I expected that +violinist to play cadenzas with his violin held in the air above his +head. You don't catch Thayer dropping into such trick work." + +"He doesn't need to; he can 'scorn such a foe' to his heart's content, +for he is getting the applause of the evening. Does he sing again?" + +"The very last number. It is an unusual place, to wind up a programme +after the orchestra is through; but I think he is equal to it." + +Beatrix felt every nerve in her body tingling and throbbing, when Thayer +came out on the stage for the second time. As a whole, the concert had +not been inspiring to her; it had been too obviously popular. Yet, at +least, it had tended to relax her strained nerves. Gade concertos are a +species of mental gruel, easy to assimilate and none too stimulating; +but all the innate barbarism of humanity, all of her nervous force +responded to the clashing rhythm of the Slavonic Dance, and the swift +color came into her face and focussed itself in a tiny circle in either +cheek, as she listened. For the moment, she was as fiercely defiant of +fate as a Valkyrie flying forth to battle. + +The mood was still upon her, as Thayer came striding out across the +stage. Arlt was beside him, for Thayer had refused an orchestral +accompaniment and had left _Danny Deever_ in the hands of a pianist. His +choice had been a wise one for Arlt. The two of them had spent hours +over the song, and the young German surpassed himself in the swift +changes of _motif_ until, as he left _Danny's_ soul freeing itself from +the swinging body and took up the cheery theme of the quickstep once +more, even Thayer was relegated momentarily to the background, as a mere +librettist to the passionate fury of the accompaniment. + +Again and again the applause broke out; again and again Thayer insisted +upon leading Arlt before the audience to make his bow; but still the +audience refused to be satisfied. Even the most graceful of bows is not +enough, when one is thoroughly aroused. + +"Play something, Arlt," Thayer ordered him at last. + +Arlt shook his head. + +"It is for you they are calling." + +"Nonsense. This is your success; not mine." + +Arlt demurred; but in the end he yielded and played one or two numbers +of Schumann's _Papillon_, played them like a true artist. As he +listened, Thayer held his breath. At last, Arlt's chance had come, and +he was making the most of it. The furore of a moment before had been for +Arlt more than for himself. Sad experience had taught him the futility +of _Danny_, unless it were adequately accompanied, and the audience were +discerning enough to give honor to whom honor was due. Standing in the +wings, Thayer exulted in each note which fell from the boy's fingers, +round and mellow and weighted with passionate meaning. Arlt was +betraying his hopes and fears more than he realized, just then, and +Thayer grew impatient for his closing phrase, that he might hear the +storm of applause which was bound to follow. He had not counted upon the +veering wind of popular interest which scattered the storm, leaving only +the gentle patter of a summer shower. The critics applauded; but society +applied its lorgnette to its eye and discovered that, in his excitement, +Arlt had neglected to make sure that his tie was mathematically +straight. The patter died away into silence. Then the wind veered again +and the storm broke out afresh, mingled with cries of Thayer's name. + +Arlt's lips worked nervously, as he joined Thayer in the wings. + +"It was you they wanted, after all," he said, with a pitiful attempt at +a smile. + +"Then they are damned fools," Thayer replied savagely; but his hand was +gentle, as he rested it on Arlt's shoulder. + +The boy braced himself at the touch. + +"We must go back," he said. + +Thayer hesitated, while his thoughts worked swiftly. There would be a +certain cruelty, to his mind, in forcing Arlt to appear again before the +audience which had just cut him so mercilessly. On the other hand, it +would be the part of childish pique for him to refuse to show himself. +Nevertheless, he needed Arlt's support. He disliked to play his own +accompaniments, and he felt that, in doing so, he risked possible +disaster. The hesitation lasted only for a moment. Then his jaw +stiffened. + +"It's all right, Arlt," he said briefly. "I am going to accompany +myself, this time." + +As he crossed the stage, he glanced hastily from Bobby to Bobby's +cousin. Bobby was glowering at the audience and grumbling into Sally's +ear. Four rows in front of them, Beatrix sat silent at Lorimer's side. +The color had left her face again, and her eyes drooped heavily. It was +as if, in watching Arlt's overthrow, her old prescience of impending +disaster had come back upon her in fourfold measure, heightened by the +intensity of her exhilaration of a few moments before. When a quiet +woman is stirred from her usual poise, the pendulum of her nerves swings +in a long arc. The Dvorák dance had not deepened Sally's color; the +Damrosch song had not caused her to draw her white ostrich boa more +closely about her throat. + +Thayer struck a vigorous major chord or two; then, with a sudden memory +of the dry glitter in Arlt's eyes, he modulated thoughtfully. His own +eyes rested again upon Beatrix during the few notes of the introduction, +and his mind went swiftly back to the day when he had sung the same +little song in her parlor. Half absently, his eyes were still upon her +face, as he came again to the closing words,-- + + "_I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn + To kiss the cross, sweetheart, to kiss the cross._" + +Unconsciously, uncontrollably, his eyes held hers, and he could see the +two great drops gather there, as she listened, her lips parted with her +deep, swift breathing. Then their eyes dropped apart, and the color +rushed into her cheeks while, with a sudden, impulsive gesture, she +slipped her hand into Lorimer's arm and pressed it until she felt the +returning, reassuring pressure. + +Lorimer looked down at her with a smile. + +"Spooky again, dear girl?" he asked, under cover of the applause which +had broken out madly once more. "He is singing superbly, to-night; but +this last was wonderful. Something has rubbed him the wrong way; I know +that set of his jaw, and it always means that he will be inspired to do +his best. Queer thing; isn't it? If I were angry or hurt, I should go to +pieces completely; but it brings Thayer to his feet, every time." + +"What do you think was the reason?" Beatrix asked, with as great a show +of interest as she could command. The first lesson Mrs. Dane had taught +her child in preparation for her coming-out tea had been the simple and +obvious one that men were rarely minded to sympathize with feminine +moods; but that under all conditions a woman who seeks to please, must +adapt herself to the mental vagaries of her masculine companion. Even +Lorimer, tender and loving as he invariably showed himself, was no +exception to the rule. + +"It was Arlt's snubbing," Lorimer returned, as he rose. "It was a +beastly thing to do. Arlt played superbly, and they might have treated +him with common courtesy. But there is no accounting for tastes. Thayer +is the hero of the evening, and people are too busy applauding him, to +have any time for lesser lights." + +"Do you think Mr. Arlt will ever succeed?" she asked anxiously for, +through Thayer's efforts to bring them together, she had become +genuinely interested in the boy. + +"God knows," Lorimer answered, with a sudden gravity that became him +well. + +Later, that evening, Thayer joined Lorimer and Beatrix in a corner of +the Lloyd Avalons's music-room. Beatrix greeted him half shyly. + +"It was a new experience," she said, with an effort to speak lightly. "I +thought I had learned to know your voice long ago; but I have decided +that I never really knew it, until to-night." + +He stood looking down at her with a grave smile. + +"My voice isn't always reliable, Miss Dane. Once in a while, it seems to +run away with me. To-night, it took the bits in its teeth." + +She felt compelled to raise her eyes to meet his. + +"I hope it won't do it too often. It is wonderful; but--" Then she +pulled herself together with a little laugh. "It must be rather amusing +to you, Mr. Thayer, to watch your effect on your audience, and to know +that you can make them shiver or cry whenever you choose." + +He refused to be won into the laugh for which she hoped. + +"It isn't whenever I choose," he responded, with unexpected literalness. +"Sometimes I feel as if I were the victim of a sort of possession. I +believe I have a demon that inhabits my vocal cords upon occasion. If he +does get hold of me, I am merely a machine in his hands. When I become +my own manager again, I am never quite sure what I may have been doing." + +"Something very good, to-night. But where is Mr. Arlt?" + +Thayer's face darkened. + +"Mrs. Lloyd Avalons neglected to invite him," he replied quietly. + +Lorimer's lip curled. + +"If that isn't beyond the dreams of snobbishness, Thayer! Why did you +come to her old party, then?" + +"Because I thought it would be too petty to stay away." + +"I would be petty, then. But, as far as that goes, Arlt's ancestors were +gentlemen, when hers were shovelling gravel for a dollar a day. American +democracy runs in strange grooves. Thayer, I am going to leave Beatrix +in your care for a few minutes. I promised Ned Carpenter I would see him +in the smoking-room, to make a date for his yachting cruise." + +Thayer looked after him with a certain anxiety which clouded his gray +eyes and found a reflection in the face of his companion. The cloud +remained, although their talk went on as if nothing were amiss. In fact, +nothing was amiss; it was only that their nerves, jarred by Arlt's +failure, were looking for disaster upon every hand. For the time being, +each bead seemed tipped with its cross. Both felt it; both were loath to +acknowledge the feeling by so much as a look. + +Suddenly Thayer roused himself. + +"Lorimer has been detained, Miss Dane, and we both are growing hungry. +May I take you to the dining-room?" + +Side by side, they crossed the floor, now almost deserted, and reached +the door of the dining-room whence came a confused noise of buzzing +tongues and clattering dishes. Then, above all else, Lorimer's voice met +their ears, a merry, laughing voice, but strangely thick as regarded its +consonants. + +"An' so, 's I was shayin', we wen' to Mory's, one ni', an' there was +thish man--" + +Some unaccountable impulse made him raise his eyes just then. They fell +full upon Beatrix standing in the doorway, with Thayer at her side. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +Beatrix's library was full of women, when Lorimer put in a tardy +appearance, the day after the Fresh Air Fund concert. A dozen little +tables littered with cards were pushed together in one corner, and the +tinkling of china and the hum of conversation betrayed the fact that +whist had given place to a more congenial method of passing the time. +Modern womanhood plays whist almost without ceasing; but it should be +noted that she frowns over the whist and reserves her smiles for her +more garrulous interludes. + +Lorimer, as he stepped across the threshold, felt a sudden longing to +retreat. He had forgotten both the whist and the interlude, that +afternoon, and he felt no inclination to exchange verbal inanities with +a group of women of whom several had been at the Lloyd Avalons supper, +the night before. All of them, he was convinced, had heard of the +incident, and were covertly eying Beatrix to see whether she looked as +if she had slept well. His theory was justified by the fact that, for +the first time that season, not a substitute had been present. + +Beatrix rose from the tea table, as he crossed the room towards her. Her +manner was a shade more alert than usual; but her eyes, half-circled in +heavy shadows, drooped before his eyes, as she gave him her hand. He +felt her fingers shake a little, and he could see the color die out of +her cheeks. Otherwise, there was nothing to mark their meeting as in any +way differing from any other meeting in the past. He greeted the other +women, accepted his cup of tea and took up his share of the burden of +conversation with apparent nonchalance. + +The nonchalance was only apparent, however. Lorimer had sought Beatrix, +that day, much in the mood in which the naughty boy turns his back to +receive his allotted caning. The bad half-hour was bound to come; it was +best to have it over as soon as possible. Lorimer had gone to bed, the +night before, in a state of maudlin cheeriness. He had wakened, that +morning, feeling a heavy weight in his head and a heavier one on his +conscience. He had an unnecessarily clear recollection of Beatrix's face +as it had looked to him, the one sharply-outlined fact across a misty +distance peopled with vague shadows. The eyes had been hurt and angry; +but the lips showed only loving disappointment. All the morning long, he +had pondered upon the matter; but by noon he had made his decision. The +meeting was inevitable, so what was the use of trying to put it off? + +"Well, Sidney?" Beatrix said steadily, as soon as the last guest had +made her nervous, chattering exit. + +With some degree of care, he had prepared his defensive argument; but it +had lost all its force and fervor by reason of the half-hour spent in +the roomful of women. Now he made a hasty effort to reconstruct it, and +failed. + +"I am sorry," he said, with simple humility. + +Unconsciously, each had taken the best method to disarm the other. +Before scornful, angry denunciation, he could have burst out into +voluble explanation and defence which, in its turn, would have +antagonized Beatrix beyond any possibility of relenting. For the +unpardonable sin, forgiveness must be a free gift. Confronted by +excuses, Beatrix would have been unyielding. In the face of his +humility, she hesitated to speak the final condemnation, and instinct +taught her that feminine reproaches were worse than futile in the face +of a real crisis. + +[Illustration: "'Can't you make any sort of an excuse for yourself, +Sidney?' she demanded"] + +"How did you happen to do it, Sidney?" she asked quietly, as she seated +herself again beside the deserted tea table and began absently setting +the disordered cups into straight rows. + +He raised his eyes from the carpet. + +"Because I was a brute," he said briefly. + +Methodically she sorted out the spoons in two little piles. Then, +pushing them together into a disorderly heap, she started to her feet +and faced him. + +"Can't you make any sort of an excuse for yourself, Sidney?" she +demanded, and there was a desperate ring to her words. + +He shook his head. + +"I can't see any," he replied, after an interval. Suddenly he laughed +harshly. "Unless you count total depravity," he added. + +She ignored the laugh. + +"I suppose you know, then, what this means," she said slowly, so slowly +that it seemed as if each word caught in her throat. + +His face whitened and he started to speak; but his voice failed him. He +bowed in silence. + +"I am sorry," she went on, while the cords in her clasped hands stood +out like bits of rattan; "perhaps I am more sorry than you are; but +there seems to be nothing else that I can do. Last night was the +tragedy of my life; to-day is the hardest, the longest day I have ever +spent. But--" + +Bending forward, he took up one of the spoons from the table and looked +at it intently for a moment. Under his mustache his lips worked +nervously, and Beatrix saw the moisture gather in great drops upon his +forehead. Fortunately she could not see his eyes, for their long lashes +veiled them. It was better so; she could hold herself more steady. There +was a certain mercilessness in the way she waited for him to break the +silence. + +"Is it final?" he asked at length. "I wish you would give me another +chance, Beatrix." + +"I have given you too many, as it is," she replied sadly. + +He looked up at her, too much startled now to care whether or not she +saw the tell-tale tears. + +"How do you mean?" + +"That last night only confirmed what I have been suspecting and +dreading." This time, there came the scornful note he had so feared. + +He dropped his eyes again, and accepted the condemnation in silence. If +she knew the whole truth, there was no need of arguing with her over the +details. The spoon snapped in two in his hands. He rose and tossed the +fragments into the fire. + +"Where are you going?" Beatrix asked. + +"Straight to the devil." His accent was hard, but perfectly quiet, the +accent of a desperate man, not of a reckless boy. + +Up to the last moment, she had expected that he would seek to justify +himself, would ask her to explain her decision and to modify it. This +grim, silent acceptance of his fate terrified her. It seemed to throw +upon her shoulders all the responsibility of an action which in itself +was right, yet possibly burdened with consequences dangerous to another. +For herself, for the killing of her own great love, Beatrix never +wavered. It was her own affair and concerned herself alone. But she knew +that Lorimer loved her, and all at once she realized that her sudden +rejection of his love was bound to bring forth bitter fruit. During the +time it took him to cross the floor, she was swiftly weighing her duty +to herself against her duty to her neighbor. She was bound to send him +away; but was she equally bound to send him away like a beaten dog, +without a word of explanation or of pity? + +"Sidney?" + +He had reached the door; but, at her call, he hesitated and looked +back. + +"You understand why I am doing this?" + +"Yes," he said bitterly; "I understand only too well." + +"And you think I am justified?" + +He faced about squarely. + +"Good God, Beatrix, when you have stabbed a man to death, don't grind +the knife round and round, and ask him if he feels it! Let him make as +plucky an exit as he can." + +His words broke the strain she had put upon herself. + +"I didn't mean--I didn't suppose--" she faltered. Then she dropped into +a chair and covered her face with her hands. + +Lorimer turned to the door again, halted irresolutely, then went back to +her side. + +"I can't go away and leave you like this, dear girl," he said, as he +bent over her. "It isn't going to be easy for either of us; it is bound +to leave a terrible scar on our lives. But, if it is the only thing you +can do: at least, can't we say a decent good-by to each other?" + +She took down her hands, drew a long breath and looked up at him; but +she was unable to meet the look in his eyes, the loving, hungry look +which she had learned to know so well. + +"We have loved each other, dear girl. I have been better and stronger +for your love. I only wish it might have lasted, for in time it might +have made me quite steady. But I am glad I have had so much. Whatever +the future has for me, at least I have had something in the past." + +The hardness had left his tone, and the passionate, bitter ring. There +was nothing now but the note of utter sadness. Beatrix trembled for +herself, for the fate of her resolve, as she heard it. + +"But I couldn't hold you, Sidney." + +"No, dear; perhaps not. But you held me more than you knew. You only saw +the times I slipped; you never had any idea of the times I nearly went +under, and pulled myself up again for your sake. If it hadn't been for +you and Thayer, for Thayer before I ever saw you, dear, I should have +gone under long ago. Now Thayer will have it all to do." + +There was no reproach in his voice. He seemed to be merely stating the +fact, not entirely for her ears, but as if he were trying to accustom +himself to the thought of all which it implied. Suddenly his shoulders +straightened; his tone grew resonant; his words came more rapidly. + +"It is in my blood, Beatrix. My mother was weak, and I am weaker still. +I know the danger; I see it and I tell myself that I must fight shy of +it. For a while I do fight shy of it, till I get off my guard and think +I am quite safe. The next thing I know, it has cropped out again, and I +haven't the nerve to face it and knock it over. It knocks me over, +instead, and each knock is just a little harder than the one before it +has been. I realize it, and I try to down it; but that's all the good it +does. I am weak, Beatrix, weak and selfish. I honestly think it is +harder for me to keep steady than it would be for Thayer, or even for +Bobby. The taint is in me. I don't mean that it is any excuse for my +making a brute of myself; but, if there is any pity in God, he must give +a little bit of it to us fellows, born weak, realizing our weakness and +truly meaning to fight it, and yet giving in to it again and again." + +"There is pity in God, Sidney," she said drearily; "but pity can't do +any good in a case like this. You need help, not pity." + +"The help of man?" he asked bitterly. "Who will give it? They are too +busy saving themselves." + +"There is only one man who can help you." + +"Thayer?" + +"No; yourself. Sidney, I hate to discuss this thing, for it has come +between us and spoiled life for us both; but you have no right to depend +on Mr. Thayer as you do. You aren't a child, and you can fight your own +way out of this." + +"What's the use now?" + +"Use! Everything. Your whole manhood." + +"But in the end? What does it all amount to?" + +"Surely, you aren't child enough to need a bribe?" she asked in sharp +scorn. + +Her scorn stung him to rapid speech. + +"Beatrix, ever since I turned into manhood, I have known this danger of +mine, and I have tried to fight it for the sake of the woman I might +love, some day. Laugh, if you will. Perhaps it is funny; but it has a +certain pitiful side to it, this trying to keep one's self clean for the +sake of the woman one has never yet seen. Then, last fall, I did see +her. Since then, the fight has been easier; perhaps I've not lost so +many battles. It all seemed more worth while. And now--" + +"And now?" Her voice was almost inaudible. + +"Now I have had it all and lost it, lost it through my own fault, and +there doesn't seem to be anything left worth fighting for." + +There was a long silence. At length, Beatrix rose. + +"Sidney," she said, as she slowly held out both hands to him; "shall we +fight side by side for a little longer?" + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +"I've manufactured a new definition of happiness," Sally said to Bobby +Dane, six months later. + +"What now?" + +"Think with the mob." + +"Who has rubbed you the wrong way, this time?" Bobby queried +unsympathetically. + +"Everybody. I am so tired of hearing people praise Beatrix for marrying +Sidney Lorimer." + +Bobby halted and shook hands with her, to the manifest wonder of the +post-ecclesiastical Fifth Avenue throng. + +"That's where even your head is level, Sally," he said, as he resumed +his stroll. "Do you want to know what I think of her?" + +"If you agree with me; not otherwise. I hate arguments, and, besides, it +is bad form to condemn one's dearest friend. But keeping still so long +has nearly driven me to--" + +"Tetanus," Bobby suggested. "Well, my impression of Beatrix is that she +is a bally idiot. I don't know just what _bally_ means; but our English +brethren apply it in critical cases, and so it is sure to be right. Yes, +I think Beatrix is very bally indeed." + +"Then you don't approve, either?" + +"Me? I? I have hated Lorimer from the start." + +"I haven't," Sally said, after a thoughtful interval. "I liked him at +first." + +"You never saw him at the club," Bobby returned briefly. + +"What did he do there?" + +"I don't know. He just wasn't right." + +Sally paced along meditatively at his side. + +"Bobby, you are a critical being," she observed at length. + +"Mayhap. But the event justifies me. I never have liked Lorimer, and I +never shall." + +"What are you going to do about it?" + +Bobby opened his hands and turned them palm downwards. + +"There's nothing to be done. I hate to see Beatrix throw herself away; +but I can't help it." + +"I wonder what her idea is," Sally said thoughtfully. "She has always +been so down upon any fastness that I supposed she would cut his +acquaintance entirely, after that Lloyd Avalons supper." + +"He acted an awful cad, that night." Bobby's tone was disdainful. "I +helped get him home and, before he was fairly out of the dining-room, he +was bragging about his family, and his money, and the Lord knows what." + +"Yes, I heard him. Beatrix heard some of it, too, before Mr. Thayer took +her away. I was at her house, the next afternoon, when Mr. Lorimer +called, and I was sure she would break her engagement there and then. +Put not your faith in the principles of a woman in love." + +"Confound her principles! That's what is the matter with her," Bobby +growled. "I had always supposed that Beatrix was a reasonable girl; but +no girl in her senses would tackle the job of marrying Sidney Lorimer to +reform him." + +"When I do it, I'll reverse things and reform the man to marry him," +Sally returned shrewdly. + +Bobby raised his brows. + +"The first time you've ever warned me that I was on probation, Sally!" + +"I said a man, not a boy," she replied unkindly. "But, after all, Mr. +Lorimer has been perfectly steady, all summer long." + +"Mm--yes, after a fashion. Of course, he would do his best, for I will +do him the justice to admit that he loves Beatrix with all the manhood +there is in him. To be sure, that's not saying much." + +"You aren't quite fair to him, Bobby. He must have some manhood in him, +to have steadied down as much as he has done, this summer." + +Bobby shrugged his shoulders. + +"He is playing for high stakes, Sally, and he can afford to be careful. +Any slip now would prove to be the losing of the whole game. Wait a year +and see." + +"Then you think--" + +"That his reform is skin deep, and that, like all other serpents, he +sloughs his skin once a year." + +"Bobby!" + +"Sarah Maria!" + +"Don't make fun of me because I was named for a spinster aunt. I can't +help my name." + +"No; it's past help. I'd change it, if I were you. Just think how it +would sound at the altar, while the alteration was going on! 'I, Sarah +Maria, take thee--'" + +Sally interposed hurriedly. + +"But, to go back to Beatrix, if you feel in this way about Mr. Lorimer, +why don't you do something about it?" + +"Do what, for example?" + +"Speak to her father, or something." + +Bobby's answer had an accent of utter gravity which somehow belied the +frivolous form of his words. + +"Sally, I'll give you a new proverb, one I have found useful at times. +Put not thy finger into thy neighbor's pie, lest it get stuck there +permanently." + +For the next few blocks, the silence between them was unbroken. Sally +nodded to an occasional acquaintance, and Bobby, without lifting his +eyes from the ground, seconded her salute with the mechanical raising of +his hat which good breeding demands. Few conventions are more +exasperatingly impersonal than the bow and smile of the average social +being. + +"But I love Beatrix," Sally said inconsequently, after an interval. + +"I, too." + +For the moment, both voices had lost their customary tone of light +banter. Bobby broke the next pause. + +"Couldn't you say something, Sally?" + +"I wish I could; but it is no use. Beatrix hasn't the least respect for +my opinion. She thinks I am only a child, and, moreover, once upon a +time, I urged her to marry Mr. Lorimer. Of course, that was before any +of this came out about him; but I hate to go into details with her, and, +if I don't she will think it's nothing but a whim." + +"What do you care what she thinks?" + +Sally shifted her eyes from the apartment houses on Eighth Avenue to +Bobby's face. + +"Bobby, I am afraid of Beatrix," she confessed. "She is built on a +larger frame than I am, and we both of us are quite aware of the fact." + +"It may be a part of her capacious frame to risk her life in marrying +Sidney Lorimer," Bobby grumbled; "but, for my part, I prefer smaller +women." + +Sally faced him suddenly. + +"Bobby! You don't mean you think he will kill her sometime when he is +drunk?" + +"No such luck! In the intervals, he will adore her and treat her like a +princess; but he won't spare her the anxiety and the shame of knowing he +is liable to take too much at any reception to which they may send an +acceptance. You haven't seen men as I have, Sally; you don't know how +far they can make babbling fools of themselves, without being absolutely +drunk. To a girl like Beatrix, the shame of it when it does occur, and +the fear of the shame, when it doesn't, would be worse than sudden +death. That gets over and done with; the other hangs on and grows worse +and worse to an endless end." + +"And you think there's no cure?" + +Once more Bobby shrugged his shoulders. + +"I wouldn't take any chances." + +"You think Beatrix can't hold him?" + +"She can for a time; but there's no knowing how long the time will last. +Any medicine loses its effect, if it is repeated often enough." + +"What about Mr. Thayer?" + +"He has more power over Lorimer than anyone else; but he has his own +professional life before him, and it won't be long before New York has a +small share of his time. He isn't going to give up a grand success for +the sake of playing keeper to Sidney Lorimer." + +"I think he is fully capable of the sacrifice." + +"Capable, yes. But it would be a sin to allow it; it would be spoiling a +saint to patch up a sinner. Thayer's future is too broad to be limited +by a futile creature like Lorimer. If he turns Quixotic, I'll poison +him. At least, that will ensure his dying in the full tide of +professional success." + +"Ye-es," Sally answered thoughtfully; "but, do you know, Mr. Thayer is +so perfectly organized that I have an idea he could swallow a certain +amount of poison and come out of it unharmed, if his will were really +bent upon accomplishing some definite end." + +There was another interval. It was Sally's turn to break it. + +"Bobby, does it occur to you that we are just exactly where we started? +We both hate Mr. Lorimer; we hate the idea of his marrying Beatrix, and +neither one of us dares interfere. Let's go and talk to Miss Gannion." + +"What's the use?" + +"To clear out our mental ganglia. At least, by the time we have been +over it with her, we shall know what we think, and there's a certain +satisfaction in that." + +"I know just what I think about it now." + +"What do you think?" + +"Damn," Bobby replied concisely. + +They found Miss Gannion alone before the fire. She threw down her book +and welcomed them cordially. + +"I had an indolent fit, to-day," she said, as she drew some chairs up +before the hearth. "Once in a while, I prefer to dismiss my clerical +adviser and settle my problems to suit myself. To be sure, I am quite +likely to settle them wrongly; but that renews my confidence in +churchly methods, so some good is gained, after all." + +Bobby deliberately placed himself in the chair which long experience of +Miss Gannion's house had taught him best fitted the angles of his +anatomy. + +"We came to have you settle a problem for us," he said; "so we are glad +your hand is in." + +"And the problem," Sally added; "is Beatrix." + +"What about Beatrix?" Miss Gannion asked. + +"She is going to marry Sidney Lorimer, and she mustn't. Please tell us +how we are going to prevent it." + +Miss Gannion sat still for a moment, with her clear eyes fixed on the +glowing embers. + +"Are you sure that it would be best to prevent it?" she asked then. + +Bobby started to his feet, faced about, and stood looking down at the +little figure of his hostess. + +"Miss Gannion, Beatrix and I have been chums ever since we could go +alone. In fact, we learned to go alone by hanging on to each other's +hands. I love her as a fellow without any sisters is bound to love a +girl cousin; and I'll be blest if I can keep quiet and see her throw +herself away." + +"Have you spoken to her about it?" + +"I don't dare," Bobby returned bluntly. "I know I should end by losing +my temper and saying things about Lorimer. I wouldn't hurt Beatrix for +the world, and I believe she honestly thinks she is doing the Lord's own +work in not throwing Lorimer over." + +"Perhaps she may be," Miss Gannion said gently. + +"Miss Gannion! Well, if she is, I shall have to revise my notions of the +Lord," Bobby responded hotly. + +Miss Gannion's smile never wavered. She knew Bobby Dane too well to +resent his occasional outbursts. + +"Bobby, my dear boy," she said, with the maternal accent she assumed at +times; "this isn't too easy a problem for any of us; but the hardest +part of its solution is coming on Beatrix. It's not an easy place to put +a woman with a conscience. The old-fashioned idea was to marry a man to +reform him; the new-fashioned practice is to wash your hands of him +altogether, as soon as he makes a single slip. The middle course is the +most difficult one to take and the most thankless. Any good woman is +sure to have a strong hold on the man who loves her; and, in times of +real danger, she is afraid to let go that hold." + +Bobby shook his head. + +"That's Beatrix all over, Miss Gannion. But it will take a mighty strong +grip to haul Lorimer across to firm ground." + +"I realize that." + +"But the question is, does Beatrix realize it, too," Sally said +abruptly. + +"Better than we can. I think she has measured both the danger and her +own strength." + +Bobby took a turn or two up and down the room. Then he came back to the +hearthrug. + +"She can't do it," he said conclusively. "The odds are all against her. +Lorimer can't pull her down, of course; but he can tug and tug till he +has used up all her strength and she has to let him go. And then what? +Miss Gannion, do you honestly think it worth the while?" + +"No; I do not," she said reluctantly. + +"Then why the deuce do you argue for it?" he asked, with a recurrence of +his former temper. "I beg your pardon, Miss Gannion; but this maddens +me, and I came here to have you help me find a way out. Instead, you are +in favor of Beatrix's signing her own death warrant." + +"No," she said slowly. "Down in my heart of hearts, I think it is all a +mistake, a terrible mistake; and I have tried in vain to find a way to +prevent it. Then, each time I think it over, I am afraid to prevent it, +because it seems to me that Beatrix's mistake is just a little bit +nobler than the safe course which we ourselves would take." + +"Have you heard Mr. Thayer say what he thinks about it?" Sally asked. + +"Not lately." + +Sally's eyes were under less subjection than her tongue, and Miss +Gannion answered the question they so plainly asked. + +"Long ago, before the night of the concert, even, Mr. Thayer spoke of +the matter to me. Since then he has never mentioned it." + +"I wish you would ask him what he thinks now," Sally said bluntly. "He +knows Mr. Lorimer better than any of us do, and he should be able to +judge what we ought to do about it." + +"The honest fact is," Bobby broke in thoughtfully; "we can't one of us +do a solitary thing about it, but get together and grumble. Beatrix +hasn't a clinging, confiding nature; she makes up her own mind and she +doesn't change it easily. If she has decided to marry Lorimer, we can +kneel in a ring at her feet and shed tears by the pint, and all the good +it will do us will be the chance of making her die of pneumonia caused +by the surrounding dampness. But it's a beastly shame! I'd rather she +married Arlt and done with it. If you've got to form a character, it's +better to start in while the character is young." + +Miss Gannion caught at the opportunity for a digression. + +"Mr. Arlt is coming to lunch," she observed. + +"To-day? I didn't know he was back in town." + +"He came last night." + +"Was Mr. Thayer with him?" + +"No; Mr. Thayer sings in Boston, last night and to-night. He sent me a +note, saying I might expect him to dinner on Tuesday." + +"I wonder what success Mr. Arlt has had." + +"Mr. Thayer sent me some criticisms. They were very enthusiastic, as far +as they went; but that was only a few lines." + +"And the rest of the criticism probably concerned itself with Thayer, +and was discreetly cut away," Bobby said, as he dropped back into his +chair. "Miss Gannion, Arlt is on the steps, and you have not invited us +to stay to lunch, so we must take a reluctant departure. Before I go, +though, I'd like to ask one favor. When Thayer comes, Tuesday night, are +you willing to talk the whole matter over with him and see what he +thinks about it now? There would be a certain consolation to me in +knowing that he disapproved the affair, and he may possibly suggest some +way of breaking it off." + +"Possibly," Miss Gannion assented; "unless it is already too late." + +The words were still ringing in the air, when Arlt came into the room. +They were still ringing in Bobby's ears, ten minutes later, when he and +Sally took their leave. + +"My mental ganglia are cleared," Bobby said disconsolately, as they went +down the steps. "I now see that there is precisely one thing for us to +do, and only one." + +"What is that?" + +"To grin and bear it." + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +Beatrix's principles extended even to the point of observing her day at +home. Society was bidden, the next afternoon, to a tea at Mrs. +Stanley's, and Beatrix was absolutely certain that none of her friends +would cross the intervening forty blocks in order to look in upon her, +going or coming. In her secret heart, she longed to follow society; +instead, she was sitting in solitude, when Thayer was announced. + +She rose to greet him with a cordial friendliness, for the past six +months had made a great change in their outward relations. They had +liked each other from the day of Mrs. Stanley's recital, and the liking +had increased with each subsequent meeting. During the next few weeks, +they had met often. Lorimer insisted upon going to every recital at +which Thayer was to sing, and under his guidance Beatrix had gained a +fair idea of what went on behind the scenes. Thayer, meanwhile, had +swiftly assumed his own place in society, and discerning hostesses +generally found it well to put him near to Beatrix at dinner. Owing to +his many evening engagements, Thayer usually ate but sparingly, so it +was all the more necessary that he should be placed within range of +someone with whom he cared to talk. He rarely lent himself to the usual +run of social badinage; but retired into his shell whenever it became +the dominant note of the conversation. A man of his bulk and prominence +and potential boredom was an object of hospitable consideration. He +could always talk to Beatrix, for she never chattered. Therefore he was +generally to be found somewhere within the conversational radius of +Beatrix Dane. + +The tea table of Beatrix, moreover, had become one of the focal points +of his New York life. He liked the cheery, informal atmosphere of the +house whose old-fashioned austerity was tempered with a dash of modern +frivolity; he liked the people he met there, people too assured of their +own social position to be touchy upon slight points of social +precedence. Most of all, he liked Beatrix Dane, herself. In the gay, +chattering multitude among whom she moved, her own steadfast quietness +stood out in bold relief, and it answered to certain traits of his own +Puritanism. It was not that she was dull, or overfreighted with +conscience. She frisked with the others of her kind; but her friskiness +was intermittent and never frivolous. To Beatrix Dane, pleasure was an +interlude, never the sole end and aim of life. And, on her own side, +Beatrix felt a thorough admiration for the clean-minded, clean-bodied +singer, a thorough reliance upon his judgment and upon his loyalty to +anyone to whom he vouchsafed his friendship. + +This had been the relation between them, on the evening of the concert +for the Fresh Air Fund, a relation whose cordial matter-of-factness was +in no way disturbed by the potent spell of Thayer's voice. Beatrix had +spent much of her life in the open air; she was too healthy to be given +to self-analysis. She admitted to herself the wonderful power of +Thayer's voice, the passionate appeal of certain of his songs; but she +made a curiously sharp distinction between the man and the voice. The +one might be a strong guiding force in the current of her life; the +other was a rising tide that swept her from her moorings and left her +drifting to and fro over stormy seas. On the night of the Fresh Air Fund +concert, for the first time in her experience, these two personalities +had become inextricably intermingled. As she had said, she had never +before realized the possibilities of either Thayer or his voice. + +Everything had conspired to produce the impression. All day long, she +had been haunted by a nervous, nameless dread. The vague hints and +signs of the past months had suddenly gathered to a nucleus of anxiety +and alarm, and, in spite of her rigid self-control, she had been +terrified into giving the one outcry, partly to satisfy her feminine +need for sympathy, partly with the hope of putting Lorimer upon his +guard. The sympathy had come, prompt and loving; the warning had been +utterly ignored. + +Music ought to be taken with fasting and prayer. Quiet nerves and a full +stomach are deaf to its deepest meaning. To most of the audience, _Honor +and Arms_ stood as a superb piece of vocal gymnastics; to Beatrix, +Thayer was like a live wire, pulsing with a virile scorn of any but +uneven contests, defiant only of those mightier than himself. To her +mind, he was ready to court heavy odds, bound to conquer them, one and +all; and her own pulses beat faster in time to the half-barbarous +outburst which ends the great aria. The Gade concerto, instead of +soothing her, had only exasperated her. She longed to get behind the +violinist and the orchestra and even the composer himself, and goad them +into some tenseness of emotion. But the Slavonic Dance had set her heart +bounding once more, until her very finger tips tingled with the blood +racing through them, and the clashing cymbals had seemed scarcely +louder than the ringing of her own ears. The rest had been only the +natural sequel; _Danny_ and Arlt's failure had led inevitably up to the +finale when Thayer's eyes, burning with that new, strange light, had +held her own eyes captive while he had sounded the tragic note which +dominates all human love. + +And the finale had not been final, after all. She had had a vague +presentiment that the cross might be at the end; she had been totally +unprepared to find it pressed to her lips, that selfsame night. + +With a swift excuse, Thayer had hurried her back into the music-room; +but he had not been able to prevent that one instant when Beatrix had +found herself face to face with a Lorimer she had never known till then. +Though her eyes had betrayed her horror of the scene, she had kept her +voice steady as she asked Thayer to call her carriage and to say her +farewells to her hostess. + +Thayer went with her to her own door. Neither of them spoke until they +stood on the steps; then Thayer cleared his throat, but even then his +voice was husky. + +"It may not be as bad as you think, Miss Dane," he said slowly. + +As if with a physical effort, she raised her eyes to his. + +"Perhaps not," she assented; "but I can think of nothing worse." + +It took Thayer two weeks to gather together his courage to see her +again. He too had been shaken by the events of the evening. His Slav +blood, kindled by the Dvorák dance, fired by his anger for Arlt, had +blazed up into a fury of scorn and hatred against the man who would so +allow his own weakness to stab another's strength. Lorimer, in Bobby +Dane's cab and under the lash of Bobby's energetic tongue, was out of +Thayer's way; but, as Thayer stood looking down at the face, whiter than +the fluffy white fur of her cloak, he had felt a momentary longing to +take Beatrix into his arms and, holding her there, to protect her from +Lorimer and from the danger that was threatening her whole happiness. +The moment passed and with it the longing; but, unknown to himself, it +had done its work. It had broken out the beginning of a new channel; it +had prepared the way for a new trend of thought. + +Bobby Dane told him what had actually passed between himself and Lorimer +on the way home, what had probably occurred, the next day, between +Lorimer and Beatrix. Thayer waited before calling until he hoped the +memory of what had passed was so remote that neither he nor Beatrix +would think of it again. Nevertheless, though Beatrix was surrounded by +callers and upon her guard, the eyes of both drooped before the sudden +consciousness of having faced a crisis side by side. + +According to their annual custom, the Danes went to their cottage at +Monomoy, the first of July, and Lorimer took up his quarters at the +hotel, less than a mile away. Two weeks later, Thayer and Arlt joined +him there. Lorimer had been urgent for Thayer's coming, and Thayer, upon +thinking the matter over, could see no valid reason for refusal. Miss +Gannion was on the way to Alaska, that summer, and, next to her, the +Danes were the closest friends he had made during his first season in +New York. It was only natural that he should arrange his plans in order +to be near them. Moreover, the idle life on the island sounded +attractive, and he was fully aware of the fact that his constant +companionship would be a strong hold upon Lorimer. All in all, he +decided to go. + +He took Arlt with him, on the plea of requiring an accompanist for the +new songs he was studying. The boy needed the change. The stress of New +York life was wearing upon him; the consciousness of comparative failure +had disheartened him. He needed the tonic of sea air and of idleness and +of contact with inartistic, care-free humanity. Furthermore, Thayer felt +that he himself might need the tonic of the simple-hearted affection of +the young German. The world about him was too complex. There were days +when the most conventional of incidents seemed weighted with a hidden +meaning, burdened with a consciousness of their own future import. + +The summer days passed swiftly and with a certain monotony. During the +mornings while Thayer was practising, Lorimer and Beatrix idled away the +hours together. Later in the day, Thayer always appeared at Monomoy, +sometimes with Lorimer, sometimes alone. Occasionally Beatrix forsook +them both, and went off for long walks with Arlt or floated lazily about +the harbor with him, leaving her mother to entertain the young men with +garrulous recollections of her own childhood. + +One subject was forever sealed between Beatrix and Thayer, to one +evening's events they neither of them ever alluded. Now and then, at +some careless turn of the conversation, one or the other of them would +stealthily raise his eyes to find the other furtively watching him; and +their eyes would drop apart again swiftly. It was obvious to Thayer that +Beatrix was carrying a heavy care, that summer. If Lorimer were tardy in +appearing, she was absent and restless; if he came upon her suddenly, +she started; if he talked or laughed more than usual, she invented an +excuse to take him away from the group, apart from the general +conversation. Occasionally, it was evident to Thayer that she was trying +to take him, himself, off his guard, seeking to make him betray himself, +in case he was sharing in her watchfulness. Upon such occasions, +Thayer's mental armor became as impenetrable as a corselet of steel. If +he were keeping guard over Lorimer, amusing him and circumventing him in +a thousand different ways, it was not only for Lorimer's sake, but for +that of Beatrix as well, and it was imperative that Beatrix should never +know. The day had passed forever when he could look into Miss Gannion's +clear eyes and declare with perfect truthfulness that Beatrix was +nothing in the world to him. He admitted this to himself; he also +admitted that there are an infinite number of gradations between the +opposite poles, nothing and something. There was no especial need of +deciding which one of them marked his present status. + +This Monday afternoon was the first time he had seen Beatrix since early +September. He had left the others at Monomoy and, in company with Arlt, +had gone back to the city to put himself in training for some autumn +festivals at which he had been engaged to sing. By the time Beatrix was +back in town once more, he had started upon what was destined to be a +triumphal progress through New England. To some men, the mere +professional success would have been enough in itself; but Thayer was of +too large calibre to find a steady diet of applause and adjectives, both +in the superlative degree of comparison, either a satisfactory or a +stimulating meal. Often and often, as he bowed across the footlights +preparatory to shouldering and lugging off his ponderous wreath of +laurels, he would have given all the evening's triumph for the sake of +one quiet hour upon the Monomoy beach. + +The evening before had been the climax of his empty successes. It had +been Boston's first oratorio of the season, and the wreath had been an +unusually ponderous one. It had met him promptly at the end of his first +number, and it had impressed him as a curious bit of irony, following as +it did upon the closing phrases of _Spe modo Vivitur_. Were his crowns +to be only the thornless, characterless ones that went with his +profession? He bowed low, nevertheless, before the storm of applause, +set up his trophy against the steadiest of the music racks of the second +violins, and lost himself so completely in wondering how Lorimer was +holding out without him that he went through his part in the quartette, +three numbers later, in perfect unconsciousness of the hostile glances +which the soprano had been casting at him during the _Est tibi Laurea_. +Her flowers had been carnations, and only two dozen of them, at that. + +The next afternoon, Thayer found himself in the familiar room, with +Beatrix's hand in his own. + +"Only ten weeks, measured by time," he answered her greeting; "but it +seems half a decade since we were killing time on the beach at Monomoy." + +"Killing crabs, you would better say," she returned, with a smile. "I +think you and Sidney must have exterminated the race for all time." + +"Can you destroy the future for a race that habitually goes backwards?" +he questioned, with a boyish gayety which she had never seen in him +before. "How is Lorimer?" + +No one else but Thayer would have noted the slight hesitation that +punctuated her reply. + +"He is--well." + +Thayer's momentary gayety left him, and he glanced at her sharply. + +"And you?" he asked. + +"I am always in rude health, just now the better for having you invade +my loneliness. Do you still take only one lump?" Her tone was perfectly +noncommittal. + +"Only one. How does it happen that I have the good luck to find you +alone?" + +"Everybody is at Mrs. Stanley's. She has captured a new lion, and has +bidden the world to come and inspect her prey." + +Thayer laughed. + +"What is he, this time?" + +"Not he at all; it is a full-fledged Japanese princess whose husband +does lectures on some sort of theosophy before all the universities. +Your lustre is totally eclipsed by this new comet." There was a short +silence; then Beatrix added inconsequently, "We all of us have been so +delighted at your success, Mr. Thayer." + +He did not take the trouble to discount the fact; but merely asked,-- + +"How did you know about it?" + +"We have followed you in the papers. Bobby had some, and I think Sidney +must have bought tons of them. He even talked of subscribing to a +clipping bureau. He has read them aloud to us, every night; and we all +have tried to act as if it were nothing so very unusual to have one of +our friends winning laurels by the wholesale." + +"They were very concrete laurels, too, Miss Dane," he returned +indifferently, though his face had lighted at her eager accent. "Some of +the wreaths must have been four feet across, and I invariably tripped +over the ribbons, when I carried them off the stage. I did wish they +would furnish a dray; garlands are horribly in the way in a carriage." + +"And then what became of them?" + +Thayer shrugged his shoulders. + +"Ask the chambermaids along the route. I don't mean to be +unappreciative; but not even the most trusting of publics could expect +me to bear my trophies away in my arms, next morning. I came to wish I +could ship them back to the florist, to be presented to some other +baritone, the next night." + +"But you enjoyed the trip?" + +"After a fashion. I enjoyed the summer more, though." + +"There is a certain satisfaction in dropping off the social harness now +and then, and we were comparatively primitive at Monomoy," she +assented. "The whole summer would have been worth while, just for the +sake of seeing Mr. Arlt enjoy it. Has he come back yet?" + +"Yes, two days ago. The trip has meant a good deal to him, and already +he is engaged for two festivals in the spring. I am hoping that a taste +of success will give him more self-reliance. He needs it, if ever he is +to impose himself upon the dear public. Even the critics are prone to +take a man at his own valuation, and one of the best American musicians +is working in a corner, to-day, because he finds it a good deal more +interesting to work towards future successes than to exploit his past +ones in the eyes of the world." + +Beatrix smiled, half in assent, half in amusement at his sudden energy. + +"Mr. Arlt will succeed in time; he is only a boy yet. But, with genius +and energy and his real love for his art, there can be no doubt of his +future." + +"That is as fate may decree," Thayer answered. + +"Or Providence," she corrected him. + +He shook his head. + +"Miss Dane, the more I know of life, I am learning to write fate in +capitals, and to spell Providence with a little _p_. Things are pretty +well cut out for us." + +She glanced at him with sudden intentness. + +"Then I hope the scissors are sharp, and that Moira carries a steady +hand. We have to put up with our own indecisions; those of other people +are maddening." + +"Doesn't that depend upon what the decision finally proves to be?" he +asked. + +Her eyes had gone back to the fire, and her face was very grave. + +"No; I would rather know where I am going. Anything is better than +drifting; it is a comfort to look steadily forward to the best or to the +worst." Suddenly she roused herself. "Mr. Thayer, do you realize that it +is two months since I have heard you sing?" + +He roused himself quite as suddenly. In the slight pause which had +broken her speech, he had been making a swift, but futile effort to +chart the future. He knew that Lorimer was drifting carelessly, +thoughtlessly; he also knew that Beatrix was allowing herself to drift +idly in his wake. And how about himself? And would they all make the +same port in the end? If not, where would the diverging currents be +waiting for them? + +His brain was working intently; but his voice was quite conventional, as +he rose. + +"I hoped you would ask me. After a month or two of singing to strangers, +I begin to feel the need of something a little more personal. Will you +have the new songs, or the old?" + +"The old, of course," she answered unhesitatingly. + +He improvised for a moment; then he began to sing,-- + + "_The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, + Are as a string of pearls to me. + I count them over one by_--" + +Abruptly he stopped singing and struck a dozen resonant major chords. + +"What a disgustingly sentimental thing that is!" he said sharply. "After +our summer at Monomoy in the sea air, we need an atmosphere of ozone, +not of laughing gas." + +And he played the prelude of _Die Beiden Grenadieren_. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +Arlt dropped in at Thayer's rooms, the next afternoon, and sat looking +on while his friend put himself into his evening clothes, preparatory to +dining with Miss Gannion. + +"I walked up here with Mr. Dane," he observed, after a thoughtful +interval. "What an American he is!" + +"American?" + +"Yes. No other country but yours can produce such people. France tries +it, and fails. A Frenchman takes his frivolity in earnest. Mr. Dane is +like that little _Scherzo_ by Faulkes, the one that frisks on and on, +and all of a sudden comes to an end with a loud _Ha ha_ over its own +absurdity. Mr. Dane delights in his own talk, just as you delight in +your singing." + +"He is not self-conscious," Thayer objected quickly. + +"Neither are you. Each of you has a gift, and you each delight in using +it. That is not saying that you either of you regard it as the only gift +in the world. Instead, having it, you make the most of it, to let it +grow and to put it in the way of giving pleasure to other people." + +Thayer smiled, in spite of himself. + +"To paraphrase you, Arlt, what a German you are! Nobody else would +attempt to philosophize concerning Bobby Dane." + +"Why not? He is worth it, for he has other gifts than his wit." + +"Did he say anything about Lorimer?" Thayer asked abruptly. + +"He spoke of him once or twice." + +"Anything especial?" + +"N-o." + +There had been a slight hesitation. The next instant, Arlt felt Thayer's +keen eyes upon him. + +"Is anything wrong with Lorimer?" + +"What should there be?" + +"Nothing should be. I asked if anything is." + +"Mr. Dane would hardly discuss his friends with me." Arlt's tone was +noncommittal. + +"Now, see here, Arlt, don't get obstinate. We both know Lorimer's +failing. Have you heard anything new about him?" + +Arlt stared hard at the carpet. + +"Mr. Lorimer was very good to the mother and Katarina," he said, in his +slow, deliberate English. + +"That may be. Mr. Lorimer has been good to a great many people, and we +aren't going to forget it. That doesn't keep us from knowing his +weakness." + +"No," Arlt said simply; "but it might keep us from discussing it." + +Thayer's lips shut closely for an instant. He felt a rebuke which Arlt +would never have dared to intend. + +"It might; but it does not. We both know it, and there is no harm in our +talking it over. Lorimer is weak and foolish; he isn't nearly so bad as +many men we know. The taint is in his blood, and he is too easy-going to +fight it out." + +"But he did fight, last summer," Arlt urged. + +Thayer's thoughts flew backwards to one night, in Lorimer's room at the +hotel. It seemed to him he could still see Lorimer's flushed face, still +hear against the background of noises that marred the stillness of the +August moonlight outside the window, the high-pitched, insistent voice +of the man who sat on the edge of the bed, arguing about the necessity +of unlacing his shoes before taking them off. The next morning, Beatrix +had received a note from Thayer, apologizing for carrying Lorimer off +for a day's fishing. Cotton Mather himself might well have envied the +grim fervor of the sermon preached by his namesake, that sunshiny summer +day. The old-time hell gave place to a more modern theory of +retribution; but the terrors were painted with a black-tipped brush, and +Lorimer had shuddered, as he listened. For the once, Thayer had made no +effort to avoid rousing his antagonism. Lorimer had been more angry than +ever before in his life; then the inevitable reaction had come, and it +had been a penitent, hopeful sinner who had walked up the pier at +Thayer's side, late in the afternoon. But Arlt, who had been playing +Chopin at Monomoy, all the previous evening, was quite at a loss to +understand how a single day's fishing could so completely exhaust a +strong man like Thayer. + +Arlt changed his phrase to the direct question. + +"Don't you think he fought with the best that was in him?" + +And Thayer assented with perfect truthfulness,-- + +"I do." + +"Then we ought to ask for nothing more." + +"If he stood alone. Unfortunately he doesn't." + +Arlt raised his brows. + +"But the risk is hers." + +Thayer untied his necktie with a long, deliberate pull, and made a +second attempt to arrange it to his liking. At length he turned from the +mirror and faced Arlt. + +"Would you be willing to allow Katarina to take such a risk?" + +"No," Arlt answered honestly, after an interval. + +Neither man spoke for some time. Arlt was unwilling to continue the +subject, and Thayer knew from experience the uselessness of trying to +force him to talk when he was minded to keep silence. It was Arlt, +however, who finally broke the silence, and his subject was one utterly +remote from Lorimer. + +"I have heard from the mother, to-day," he said suddenly. + +"Good news, I hope." Thayer's tone was as hearty as if he had felt no +passing annoyance at the boy's stubborn reticence. + +"The best that can be for them. An old cousin has died, and they are his +heirs." + +"Good! Is it much?" + +"Enough so they can live in comfort, whatever happens to me." + +"And enough so that you can live in comfort, without anxiety for them," +Thayer supplemented kindly. + +"Without anxiety; I can do without the comfort," Arlt replied. "I have +worried sometimes." + +Crossing the room, Thayer laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. + +"And you have borne the worry very pluckily, too, Arlt. It has been hard +for you, this first year in America, with the double care for them and +for yourself. I hope things are going to be easier now." + +"It will be a help in my work," he assented. Then he added, with a +sudden effort which showed how dear the subject was to his heart, "I +think I shall now have a few more lessons in counterpoint." + +"More?" Thayer said interrogatively. + +"Yes; I had already studied for two years." + +"And you want to compose?" + +"When I know enough. Not till then." + +"It takes something besides the knowing, to make a composer, Arlt," +Thayer said warningly. + +"I know. But I think I have something to say, when I am ready," the boy +answered, with simple directness. + +"But, if you wanted to study counterpoint, why didn't you say so? You +knew I would lend you the money." + +"Yes, you would give me everything; but I could never accept this." + +"Why not?" + +Arlt looked up, and even Thayer, well as he knew him, was surprised at +the sudden concentration of character in the boy's face. + +"One will be helped in the small things, never in accomplishing the real +purpose of his life. Each one of us must work that out for himself. +Then, if he succeeds or fails, at least the result is of his own +making." + +Dismissing four or five importunate cab drivers with a brief shake of +his head, Thayer went striding away up the Avenue towards Miss Gannion's +house. As he went, he was half-consciously applying Arlt's words to the +question of his own future. It was true enough that he must work out his +own real purpose for himself; and, in one sense the unsuccessful boy was +happier by far than the successful man. Arlt's purpose was single. +Thayer's was two-fold, and as yet he could not determine which of them +would prove to be the dominant impulse of his life. + +"Really, it does seem very good to drop back into the old ways," Miss +Gannion said contentedly, two hours later. + +The loitering, lingering dinner was over; the servants had been +instructed to admit no other guests, and Miss Gannion was snuggled back +in her deep chair, gazing up at Thayer who stood on the rug with his +hands idly locked behind his back. In this room which showed so plainly +its feminine occupancy, he seemed uncommonly virile, and Miss Gannion, +watching him, felt a momentary exultation in his virility. Most of the +men whom she knew, put on a feminine languor as an adjunct to their +evening clothes. Thayer looked down upon her with manifest approval. +After months of separation, it was good to find himself in the presence +of this woman to whom he was allowed to speak freely his real opinion. +Miss Gannion by no means always agreed with him; but she usually +understood his point of view and was willing to admit its weight. +Moreover, she was able to discuss without losing her temper, and she +belonged to that species of good listener who understands that an +occasional word of comprehension is worth more than hours of mere silent +attention. + +"It is refreshing to get back to a place where my personality counts for +something," Thayer assured her. "The past two months have left me +feeling as if I had not a friend in the world, nothing but audiences." + +"What an ingrate you are! Most of us would be willing to have that kind +of impersonality." + +"Would you?" + +"No," she said candidly. "I'm not large enough for that." + +"It wouldn't have occurred to me that it was any indication of +largeness." + +"To be able to resign your own individuality, for the sake of the +pleasure you can give other people? That seems to me rather large." + +"It depends. I think I would rather concentrate my efforts, person on +person, instead of spreading myself out like a vast impersonal plaster." + +She laughed a little, though her eyes were very grave. + +"You might apply your theory here and now. Go and sing to me, not a new +song, but one of the old favorites." + +Obediently he crossed the room to the piano where he sat for an hour, +now singing, now stopping to comment on a song or to relate some of his +experiences of the past two months. Later that night, when Miss Gannion +was thinking over the talk of the evening, it suddenly occurred to her +that he had made no reference at all to the summer. At length he rose to +return to the fire. + +"No," she objected. "There is one song still lacking. You've not sung +_The Rosary_ yet." + +His stride across the room never hesitated, although duller ears than +his own could not have mistaken the wish in her voice. + +"I have worn out _The Rosary_," he said briefly. "I shall have to let it +rest for a while." + +"I am sorry. I loved it." + +He laughed mirthlessly. + +"It is the weakest kind of sentimentality, Miss Gannion. The song itself +amounts to very little; it is merely a question of the key." + +"I am sorry," she repeated, still a little sadly. "I have cared a good +deal for the song." + +Thayer made no answer, and she sat looking up at him with a steady +wishfulness which made him uneasy. Her next words, though chosen by +chance, increased his uneasiness. + +"Have you seen Miss Dane, since you came back?" + +"I was there, yesterday." + +"How did she seem to you?" + +His steady eyes met hers without wavering. + +"I don't quite understand what you mean by the question." + +Miss Gannion varied the form of her words. + +"Did you think she looked well?" + +"Very." + +"And yet, I don't think Beatrix is happy," Miss Gannion said, half to +herself. + +"Why not?" + +"How can she be? Beatrix is not dense. She thinks things, and she must +know the uncertainty of the future." + +"But I thought it was quite certain." There was a level monotony in +Thayer's accent. + +"You think Mr. Lorimer has really reformed and is out of danger?" Miss +Gannion asked quickly. + +"I wish he had," Thayer answered half involuntarily. + +"Then there is still trouble?" + +But already Thayer was once more upon his guard. + +"I have heard of nothing since I came home." + +"Have you seen Mr. Lorimer?" + +"No." + +There was a curt brevity in his manner which was new to Miss Gannion. In +spite of herself, it set her to wondering whether prosperity had been +good for her friend, whether the consciousness of his own importance +were making him indifferent to the interests of others. Perhaps, after +all, it was true that he was becoming impersonal. He might be growing +larger; he was certainly growing more remote from her life. Miss +Gannion cared for Thayer. Now, while she watched him, her eyes were +lighted with an almost fierce affection, even though her disappointment +made her voice take on a hard, metallic ring, as she asked,-- + +"Are you turning your back upon the problem of your old friend, Mr. +Thayer?" + +"No," he answered; "but I thought we had solved it, in this very room." + +She raised her brows interrogatively. + +"'To say our prayers, and wait,'" he quoted. + +Her momentary distrust of him weakened, and her face lighted, as she +heard him quoting her own words, spoken so long ago. + +"Yes; but I--we all--think it is time--think it may be a mistake." + +He lifted his eyes from the fire, looked at her steadily for a minute, +and then stared into the fire again. She grew restless with the +stillness. + +"And we thought perhaps you could say something." + +"To--?" he asked, without raising his eyes. + +"To Mr. Lorimer." + +"What could I say?" + +"Something to break it off." + +In spite of himself, he laughed outright. + +"Would you advise threats or bribery, Miss Gannion? I really can't +imagine any argument that would lead Lorimer to give up Miss Dane of his +own accord." + +"Couldn't you put it to him strongly that he has no moral right to hold +her to her promise?" + +"I could; but he would probably put it to me just as strongly that I +have no moral right to interfere in his concerns." + +Miss Gannion sat up straight, bracing her elbows against the sides of +her chair. + +"Mr. Thayer, have you any idea that Mr. Lorimer will ever give up +drinking, drinking more than is good for him?" + +"I have not." + +"Have you any idea that Beatrix, if she marries him, can escape years of +anxiety and wretchedness?" + +"I have not," he answered again. + +"Oh, how cold you are!" she cried, in passionate revolt against his even +tone. "Don't you care anything at all for Beatrix?" + +If he flinched at her question, he rallied again too quickly for her to +discover it. Then he looked her squarely in the eye. + +"I would do anything in my power to protect Miss Dane; but this is a +case where I have no right to speak to her. I have spoken to Lorimer +again and again, urging him to control himself for her sake. Beyond +that, I have no right to go." + +"But you said once that you thought she ought to be told." + +"That was months ago. She found out, without being told." + +"Not all." + +"Enough." + +"But, if she knew all about it, all that you know, Beatrix Dane would +never marry Sidney Lorimer." + +"Very likely not." + +"Then you ought to tell her. What right have you to suppress facts that +would change her whole point of view? You have it in your power to save +Beatrix Dane. Once you were willing to do it." She had risen and stood +on the rug, facing him. Stung by his coldness and by her disappointment +in him, she allowed a sudden note of hostility to creep into her voice, +and it cut Thayer like the edge of a steel knife. + +"I am sorry," he said, after a pause; "but it is too late for that now, +Miss Gannion." + +His words were more true than he realized. When, after a half-hour of +uncomfortable, disjointed talk, he said good-night and went away, he +found Lorimer waiting for him in his own rooms. Thayer's greeting was +curt, for he was still smarting from the memory of his talk with Miss +Gannion. He had been impenetrable to her questions, but not to her +sharpness, and he was hurt by the disapproval she had shown. It was the +first time he had heard the curious icy tone in her voice; it had struck +a jarring note in their friendship. For the time being, Miss Gannion had +distrusted him; but at least she had gained no idea of the cause of his +changed attitude. For so much, he was thankful. He had saved his own +respect at the risk of forfeiting that of Miss Gannion. + +Lorimer met him excitedly; but Thayer's experienced eye saw that the +excitement had no alcoholic basis. + +"Congratulations, old fellow! Everything is settled at last, and we are +to be married, early in January. I came straight to you, for I knew you +would be delighted. Of course, I shall count on you as best man." + +It would never have occurred to Thayer that there was need to brace +himself against any possible shock. For a minute, the droplight on the +table seemed to be dancing a Russian _trépac_. Then, just as it was +ready to fall, he heard his own voice saying, with exactly the proper +degree of cordiality,-- + +"I do congratulate you, Lorimer, and I am delighted that it is settled." + +Later on, he knew that he had spoken the truth. + +"And you will be best man?" Lorimer questioned eagerly. + +"Yes. Who else has better claim?" The conventional note was still there; +Thayer felt its aloofness far more than Lorimer, absorbed in his own +joy, was able to do. The silence was short; then Thayer mastered himself +again. "Lorimer," he said quietly; "I certainly do congratulate you, for +you have been able to gain one of the noblest women in the world. Your +happiness ought to be great; but you have taken a fearful responsibility +along with it. At your best you can be worthy of her; but, if you fall +one inch below your best level, you will deserve to be flayed alive. You +have gone into this with your eyes open. You know that you can make +Beatrix Dane's life a heaven or a hell. You and I both know the danger; +we know that she is running a terrible risk in marrying you, and that +you yourself are the only person who can save her from shame and sorrow. +For God's sake, Lorimer, do all you can to make yourself live up to the +best that is in you." + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +Late March found Thayer just completing a long circle. He had gone to +Chicago by way of Washington; he was coming back by way of Canada and +New England. Oratorio societies were rampant, that Lent, and he had been +the popular baritone of the season, completely ousting from public favor +the bass who had monopolized the applause for six or seven years +previous. He had fainted under Elijah's juniper tree times without +number, until he had learned to watch with cynical interest for the +phrase which never failed to draw forth the tears. He had even taken +part in one grand operatic rendition of the work, when the audience had +been half strangled by the too realistic fumes from the altar, and the +chorus, huddled at the back of the stage, had sung the _Rain Chorus_ off +the key, to the accompaniment of the torrent which poured down in a thin +sheet just back of the curtain, raining neither on the just nor on the +unjust, but falling accurately into the groove for the footlights +between them. He had sung _The Messiah_ and _Arminius_ until they were a +weariness to his flesh, and _Hiawatha's_ call to _Gitche Manito, the +Mighty_ had become second nature to his tongue. He had moments of acute +longing to astound his audience with a German student song, and, upon +his off nights, he fell into the vaudeville habit. Not even his +Puritanism could enjoy an unlimited diet of oratorio. + +At first there had been some question of his giving a number of recitals +at different points on his journey; but he had renounced the idea. Arlt +was grinding away at counterpoint under the best master to be found in +New York, and Arlt was the only accompanist with whom Thayer cared to +sing. The boy had no notion that Thayer needed him; neither did he have +any idea of the discrepancy between his own payments and the actual fees +of the great musician with whom Thayer had advised him to study. Week by +week, he brought his few dollars, without once suspecting that Thayer's +monthly checks were really paying for the lessons. + +Arlt had fallen to work with the eagerness born of long and enforced +abstinence. Certain musical themes had been haunting him for the past +two years; yet he had known that he lacked the training which should +enable him to develop them properly, and, with rare self-denial, rather +than spoil them he had turned his back upon them and tried to forget +them. Now, however, his work was beginning to tell upon him, and his +teacher was more and more encouraging, while the old themes came back to +him, grown and enriched by their season of lying fallow. Spurred on by +the consciousness of all this, Arlt was hard at work upon an overture +with which he hoped to greet Thayer on his return to the city. Day by +day, the overture was growing. It was boyish; yet it was dignified and +original. + +On the last morning of his trip, Thayer came down the steps of his +hotel, halted to stare about him at the streets of the leisurely little +city, and then sauntered away towards the hall where the rehearsal was +to take place. It was still early; nevertheless, as he came within sight +of the building, he found the street filled with the members of the +orchestra who, thriftily refusing cabs, had marched up from the station +in a solid phalanx, laden with all manner of strange-looking bags and +cases. Thayer nodded to them with a certain eagerness. After two months +of wandering, it was good to find himself once more within the New York +radius. He had sung with these men often; they knew every trick of his +voice, and he could count upon them not to break into a galloping rhythm +in the midst of a minor _andante_. His face lighted, and his tongue fell +into his beloved German idioms, as he went up the stairs with a bass +viol and a bassoon on either hand. + +The director of the chorus was also a New York man, and Thayer shook +hands with him cordially, wondering, meanwhile, how it chanced that one +short year had made him feel that New York was home to him. The director +knew Arlt's teacher, too. He had heard of the young German's promise, +and it was with some regret that Thayer heard him break off from these +congenial themes, for the sake of introducing him to the officers of the +society who were unduly agitated by the consciousness that they had +captured both Thayer and the latest English tenor who had landed only +the week before and was to make his American début, that evening. + +Meanwhile, the hall was filling fast. The chorus, chattering with the +nervous vivacity which always heralds a concert, were crowding into the +fraction of space allotted to them; and, in the open floor beyond, the +musicians of the orchestra were gathered into little groups, unpacking +their instruments, unfolding their racks and eying the chorus with +metropolitan disdain. Here and there a violinist, his violin at his +shoulder, sauntered up and down the floor, alternately drawing his bow +across the strings and lowering it again, while he tightened them. Then, +in answer to the call from the oboe, the whole place grew filled with +their din, discordant at first, but slowly coming into more and more +perfect harmony, uniting upon the single note, breaking again into +countless changing tones, only to yield once more to the single _A_, +caught, dropped during an instant's pause, then caught again and held in +long-drawn, jubilant sonority. + +On the heels of the other soloists, Thayer picked his way up the narrow +aisle at the right of the tenors, and took his seat upon the little +stage. As he did so, he discovered a diminutive gallery directly over +the main entrance to the hall. Side by side in the gallery sat two men, +the president of the chorus and Bobby Dane. + +Bobby was beaming down at him placidly, and Thayer's face lighted at the +unexpected sight of his friend. Bobby nodded occasionally, to mark his +approval of the music; then, at the end of Thayer's first solo, he laid +his score on the gallery rail and led off a volley of applause which, +echoing back from the chorus, roused Bobby to such a pitch of +enthusiasm that he knocked the score off the rail and sent it tumbling +down among the rear ranks of the altos. + +"Why the unmentionable mischief do you waste your energies, singing like +that at a rehearsal?" he demanded abruptly of Thayer, as he joined him +on the stairs. + +"Where the unmentionable mischief did you come from?" Thayer responded, +seizing Bobby's hand in his own firm clasp. + +"New York. Just came up, this morning. I'm doing the concert, to-night." + +"Oh! I was under the impression that I was going to do a part of it, +myself." + +"Musically. I represent the power of the Press." + +"As critic?" + +"Certainly." + +"How long since?" + +"To-day. The regular critic is busy with a domestic funeral, his +grandmother, or step-mother, or something, and it lay between the devil +and me to take his place. Strange to say, the Chief chose me; but he was +morose enough to say the old lady shouldn't have died, just when all the +other papers in town were sending up their best critics." + +"But how do you expect to get up a criticism?" + +Bobby smiled up at him in smug satisfaction over his own wiliness. + +"By caressing the mammon of unrighteousness. I know you; likewise the +president of this chorus was in my prep. school. I happened to hear of +him, last week, and I am banking on the fact for all it is worth. +Therefore I have two strings to my bow. That's more than one of your +second violins did. To my certain knowledge, he wrecked two strings in +the overture and one in the prelude of your first solo. After that, I +got interested and lost count." + +"Do you expect us to dictate our own praises?" + +"Not much. I am too canny for that. Besides, don't be too sure they will +be praises. No; I have asked the president, in strict confidence, just +what he thinks of you, and his answer was properly garrulous. His +originality was startling, too. He observed that you have temperament. +Now I am proceeding to ask you, also in strict confidence, what you +think of the chorus." + +"That it has intemperament," Thayer responded promptly. "Dane, I abhor +that word." + +"Is that the reason you coined its negative?" + +"No; but it gets on my nerves. When it started out into service, it +meant something; but now it is used to express everything, from real +artistic feeling down to the way a man rolls up his eyes when he sings +love songs. I wish you newspaper men would bring out something new to +take its place. You can do it; you generally set the fashion in words." + +"I'll ask Lee, when he gets over his funeral," Bobby suggested. "It is +out of my line. I am a greater artist than he is, a typographical song +without words. I do scareheads, and buffet the devil. Thayer?" + +"Yes?" + +"Do you honestly enjoy this sort of thing?" + +Thayer glanced down at the muddy crossing where they stood waiting for a +car to pass. + +"No. I prefer an occasional street-cleaning episode; but what can you +expect in a March thaw?" + +"I don't mean that," Bobby said impatiently. "I'm not joking now." + +"Beg pardon," Thayer returned briefly. "What do you mean, Dane?" + +"I mean all this tramping round the country, singing to strange people, +getting applause at night and reading about yourself, next day. Doesn't +it get a frightful bore, after the dozenth time you've been through +it?" + +"The applause and the audience and the criticisms, yes. The singing, +no," Thayer said, after an interval. + +"And you're willing to put up with one for the sake of the other?" + +"Yes." + +Bobby dodged a shower of mud from a passing cab. + +"Well, tastes differ, then. In New York, we've been going on the same +old routine, and yet no two days have been alike, except in the minor +detail of missing you at places. You have been in twenty different +cities, and I'd be willing to bet that your routine hasn't varied: +sleeper, hotel, rehearsal, concert, applause, wreath, supper, hotel, +bed, and so on around the circuit again and again. And you say the +singing pays for it. It does pay us; but you can't hear yourself, +Thayer, not to get any good of it. If it isn't the applause and such +stuff, what do you do it for?" + +Thayer glanced down at the man beside him. He liked Bobby Dane, and, for +the moment, he felt moved to discard his customary reticence in regard +to his art. + +"For the sake of feeling myself picked up and carried along by something +quite outside myself, something I am powerless to analyze, or to +master; yet something that I can help to express," he answered. + +Bobby accepted the lesson in silence. Then of a sudden his whimsical fun +reasserted itself. + +"Must feel a good deal like getting drunk," he commented gravely. "And +_ŕ propos des bottes_, Beatrix is at home again." + +Thayer's shoulders straightened, his step grew rhythmic once more. + +"When did she come?" + +"She landed, ten days ago, and they went right to the new house. She is +going to send out cards for Mondays in May; but, meanwhile, we are +coming in for an earlier event. There's a note at your rooms now, asking +you to dine with them, next Monday." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because, like a coy maiden, I named the day. It is a sort of +post-nuptial event, the maid of honor, the best man, and the master of +ceremonies, meaning myself. She wasn't going to ask me, because it would +spoil the number; but I told her I would make a point of being there, +and that Monday was my most convenient day. It will give us our first +chance to talk over the wedding." + +"How does she--Mrs. Lorimer look?" + +"She Mrs. Lorimer looks very natural," Bobby replied gravely. "As a +rule, we only say a person looks natural after his demise; but I assure +you that Beatrix is very much alive." + +"And happy?" Thayer asked involuntarily. + +Bobby gave him a swift, sharp glance. Then he resumed his former +nonchalant air. + +"As happy as one always is at landing after five days of acute +sea-sickness. They pursued a storm, all the way home. They didn't catch +it, though, except in the figurative sense of our remote childhood. I +never saw Beatrix look so happy in her life as when she planted her +second foot safely on the pier." + +"What about Lorimer?" + +Bobby shook his broad shoulders, with the air of a man shaking off a +disagreeable subject. + +"Oh, he's all right," he said shortly. + +Together the two men idled away the afternoon. Bobby would fain have +introduced Thayer to his own brother craftsmen who infested the hotel in +the hope of getting speech with the artists; but Thayer had little +liking for being interviewed, and preferred to divide his time between +his own room and the streets. He and Bobby had an apparently limitless +fund of talk, and their conversation wandered at will over the events of +the past two months. However, as all roads lead to Rome, so all +subjects led to Beatrix. When they came around to her in their +discussion, Thayer invariably changed the subject; yet even a few words +on a constantly recurring theme can end by illuminating that theme +perfectly, provided only that it recurs often enough. By the time Thayer +was dressing for the concert, that night, he was in full possession of +all Bobby Dane's facts concerning his cousin, and he was convinced that +all was not well with Lorimer. + +With a commendable spirit of originality, the officers of the chorus had +broken away from the established rule which proclaimed it an _Elijah_ +season, and had chosen to give _St. Paul_, that night. Thayer liked the +oratorio. It seemed to him more original, more inspired, infinitely more +human than the other. Moreover, it would be restful to keep silent and +let the tenor warble himself to a lingering death. Even fiery chariots +become monotonous in time, and an indignant mob affords a welcome +variety. He had not heard the tenor since they had sung together in +Berlin, two years before, and he was looking forward to the evening with +a good deal of pleasure. + +To his surprise and annoyance, he found the music stopping short at his +tympani, powerless to enter his brain. When he jolted himself out of +his train of subconscious thought, he was aware that the orchestra was +superb, that his old friend, the tenor, had added many cubits to his +artistic stature, during the past two years, that he himself, Cotton +Mather Thayer, would have to use his best efforts if he did not wish to +occupy an entirely subordinate place upon the programme. Then he +recurred to his thought of Beatrix and Lorimer. If Lorimer had not kept +a straight course during his honeymoon, what hope was there for either +himself or Beatrix in the many, many moons to come? + +The strings and the wind took up the _Allegro_, and Thayer rose. +Lorimer, if he had been present, would have known what to expect from +the straightening of his shoulders and the sudden squaring of his jaw; +but Bobby Dane, who had been watching the apathy in which his friend was +buried, was distinctly nervous. Then, at the first note, his nervousness +vanished, leaving in its place only wondering admiration. Bobby had +supposed he knew what Thayer could do; but he was totally unprepared for +the furious dignity with which the singer rendered his aria,-- + + "_Consume them all, + Pour out Thine indignation, and let them feel Thy power._" + +The applause did not wait for the orchestra to slide comfortably back to +the tonic. It broke out promptly upon the final note, and it satisfied +even Bobby. Thayer bowed his acknowledgments, and then returned to his +reverie; but he roused himself again at the _Adagio_ which announced his +second aria. + +Then it was, in Paul's outcry for mercy, for the blotting out of his +transgressions, that Bobby Dane understood what Thayer had meant, that +noon, when he had spoken of being carried along by something outside of +himself. Bobby knew Thayer as a quiet, self-contained man of the world; +the Thayer who was singing that great aria was on fire with a passionate +madness, tingling with unfulfilled longing, striving against his whole +temperament for peace and for pardon. Bobby knew all this; he dimly +realized, moreover, that the singer was fired by love for the wife of +his friend, burning with the surety that his friend was unworthy of her, +and struggling with all the manhood there was in him to face that love +and that surety with the stoic calm of one of his Puritan ancestors, to +quench the fire and to cover the ashes. + +Bobby joined him in the wings, at the close of the concert. Even in the +dim light, he could see that Thayer looked whiter than his wont, and +that the veins in his temples stood out like knotted cords. + +"What business have you to be doing oratorio?" Bobby demanded, as soon +as they could struggle a little apart from the gossiping, gushing ranks +of the chorus which surrounded them, pulling surreptitious bits from +Thayer's mammoth wreath of laurel. + +"Why not?" Thayer asked calmly. + +"Because you are throwing away the best of yourself. Putting you into +oratorio is like icing tea. You belong in grand opera." + +Thayer raised his brows dissentingly. + +"I wish I could think so, Dane; but I am afraid I should only disappoint +you," he answered, and his tone was not altogether jovial, as he said +it. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +"I don't expect to be consistent," Sally retorted. "I'm only an +ill-assorted snarl of threads ravelled out from my different ancestors." + +"That's dodging the responsibility, Miss Van Osdel." + +Bobby lifted an oyster and held it up to view. + +"I never did approve of shunting off our sins on the shoulders of our +ancestors," he observed. "They sin; we get the come-uppance. You might +as well say that the grandfather of this oyster is directly responsible +for his being eaten alive." + +"No man's sin is wholly his own doing," Lorimer said half bitterly. + +There was a sudden pause, as they all came to a realizing sense that +Sally's idle words had sent them sliding out upon thin ice. Bobby was +the first to rally. + +"True for you, Lorimer!" he assented cheerily. "That is one of the +doctrines I have spent my life trying to impress on the governor. I +wish he felt it more borne in upon him. But, as you were saying, Sally, +you're not expecting to become consistent. I'm glad, for you won't be +disappointed. The brightest jewel in your crown will have to be of +another color." + +"What color is consistency, Bobby?" his cousin asked. + +"Green, of course, reflected from the jealous eyes of the ninety and +nine sinners who haven't the virtue." + +"I'm not at all certain that I wish to be consistent," Sally asserted. + +"So glad for your sake!" Bobby returned quickly. + +Thayer looked up inquiringly. + +"Because consistent people are such bores, Miss Van Osdel?" + +"So you are a heretic, too? And then they are so smug." + +"But there's consistency and consistency," Bobby argued. "There's mashed +potato and frappé, for instance, equally hard, equally homogeneous, yet +totally different. To my mind, there is a distinct choice between them, +and I prefer--" + +"Cherries in your frappé." Sally capped his sentence for him. "In other +words, we all like a consistent person with lumps of inconsistency. +That's myself, and one of my lumps is a dislike of having Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons on our tenement committee." + +"But, if you are slumming--" + +"That is ignoble of you, Beatrix. The committee doesn't slum within its +own confines." + +"Oh, I didn't mean that at all," Beatrix protested hastily. "Really, +though. I can't see why you and Mrs. Lloyd Avalons can't unite in +working for somebody quite outside either of your worlds." + +Sally raised her brows in saucy imitation of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's pet +expression. Then she pushed Beatrix's words aside with daintily +outstretched fingers. + +"Can't you?" she said coolly, as she ended her little pantomime. "Well, +I can. To adopt Bobby's choice illustration, it would be like mixing +potato and frappé. The potato would melt the frappé, and then the frappé +would--well, would render the potato unpalatable. In other words, if we +work together, I shall pulverize Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, and then the dust +of her individuality will get in among my nerves and clog them." + +"If you can't be consistent, Miss Van Osdel, please do try to be +concrete," Thayer urged. "I confess that I find it a little difficult to +follow you." + +"Not at all," Bobby interposed. "She isn't going anywhere. Sally's +mental processes always remind me of the way we used to play cars in a +row of easy chairs. We were extremely energetic, and we pretended that +we were going somewhere; but in reality we didn't budge an inch. Sally, +what is the reason you don't like Mrs. Lloyd Avalons?" + +"Because she is utterly preposterous," Sally replied concisely. + +"And yet, she is bound to arrive, some day," Lorimer said thoughtfully. + +"Then I hope it may not be until after I have left," Sally retorted. "I +don't care to have her making connections with me." + +"Sally, you are uncharitable," Beatrix said rebukingly; but Bobby +interrupted,-- + +"That's more than you can say of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. She is on half the +charity committees in town." + +"How did she get there?" Thayer asked, with unfeigned curiosity. + +"By toiling upward, day and night. That's where she scores ahead of the +great men. According to the poet, they only belonged to the night +shift. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons sleeps with the Blue Book under her pillow and +dreams social combinations." + +"She probably has a chess board always at her elbow," Sally suggested. +"I can fancy the game, the white queen and her pawn against the whole +black force, each man neatly tagged with his name and social status." + +"She is marching straight into the king-row, though," Bobby added. + +Beatrix called them to order. + +"Does it strike you that this is perilously near to being gossip?" she +inquired. + +But Sally had the last word. + +"It's not gossip to talk over the possibilities of the lower classes," +she remarked imperturbably. "It is social science." + +Lorimer went back to the original question which had started the +discussion. + +"As I said before, there is a certain inconsistency in the idea of a +given number of women setting themselves to work to better the condition +of the masses, and then coming to wreck and ruin because one of their +number is of a slightly different set." + +"Slightly inferior," Sally corrected him. + +Lorimer accepted the amendment. + +"Inferior, then, if you choose. But we are talking of the theory in the +abstract, not of any particular case. One hardly expects to find +snobbishness in slumming." + +"Then that's where one gets left," Bobby commented, by way of +parenthesis. + +"But if you are all stooping?" + +"Yes; but the alignment is better, if we all stoop at the same angle," +Sally protested. + +"What I wish to know," Thayer said thoughtfully; "is where the deadline +of propriety exists. Take the case of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, for instance. +Why does she take Patsey Keefe to her heart and home, and snub Arlt upon +all occasions?" + +"Because she wishes to maintain a proper perspective," Sally replied. +"Everyone knows that Patsey and she are chums from choice; with Mr. +Arlt, there might be a question. Legitimate slumming presupposes two +willing parties, the slummer and the slummed." + +"In other words," Bobby added; "it is socially possible to foregather +with the slum in the next ward; it is death to speak to the undesirable +neighbor in the back alley. The fact is ordained; but it will take +several generations of social scientists to ferret out the cause." + +Sally addressed the table at large. + +"For my part, I like Mr. Arlt," she said flatly. "What's more, I am +going with him to the Kneisel concert, to-morrow night; and, if any of +you are there and choose to eye me askance, you are welcome." + +Later, that evening, Thayer found himself with Beatrix and a little +apart from the others. The dinner had been utterly informal, and it had +been tacitly understood that the guests should linger afterwards. It was +only ten days since the Lorimers had landed from their European +honeymoon, and as yet they felt themselves privileged to hold themselves +a little aloof from the social treadmill. Though the breakfast table, +each morning, was littered with cards and notes of invitation, yet the +season was in their favor. Lent had entered upon its last week, and even +the largest functions clothed themselves in penitential and becoming +shades of violet. Accordingly, it had been a source of little +self-denial for Bobby and Sally to give up their other engagements for +the evening. As for Thayer, he invariably went his own way, invited +everywhere and appearing only in the places which suited his mood of the +hour. It was the one professional luxury that he allowed himself. + +To his keen eye, Beatrix looked as if she were carrying a heavy burden +of care. She was as alert as ever; her social training was bound to +ensure that. But between her conversational sallies, her face settled +into certain fixed lines that were new to Thayer. Even during the past +two months, her lips had grown firmer; but her lids drooped more often, +as if to hide some secret which otherwise might be betrayed by her eyes. +Up to this time, Thayer had never called her especially pretty. She was +handsome, perhaps; but her face was too cold, too austere. Now, however, +it seemed to him full of possibilities for beauty, softer, infinitely +more loving. In the old days, the curve of her lips had been haughty; +to-night, their firmer lines appeared to him like a mask worn to conceal +the gentler womanhood within. She was thinner, too; but browned by her +sea voyage, and she carried herself with the nameless dignity which +comes to a woman upon her bridal day. + +Lorimer appeared to be in the pink of condition. He was more handsome +than ever, more graciously winning. His voice had all the old caressing +intonations which Thayer recalled so well, together with many new ones +that crept into his tone whenever he addressed his wife. By look and +word and gesture, he referred and deferred to her constantly; and his +eyes never failed to light, when they rested upon her own. No man could +have been more frankly and openly in love with his own wife. + +"Then I take it for granted that the trip has been a success," Thayer +said, as he joined her. + +"Indeed it has. Mr. Lorimer took me to all his old haunts and, in +Berlin, to all of yours that he could find. We went to your old +lodgings, and we heard a concert in the hall where you made your début +and, the last day we were there, Sidney insisted upon hunting up your +old master." + +Thayer looked up suddenly. + +"The dear old _Maestro_! Did he remember me?" he asked, with a boyish +enthusiasm which sat well upon him. + +"Certainly he did, if _remember_ is the right word, for his knowledge of +you was not all in the past tense. He has followed you closely, and he +knows just what you have done. Mr. Thayer," she added abruptly; "why +have you never sung in opera?" + +"Why should I?" + +"Because he said that there was your especial talent, only he called it +by a stronger name. He jeers at the work you are doing." + +Thayer smiled. + +"I am sorry. I thought it was good work." + +"So it is, as far as it goes. But the other goes farther." + +"Perhaps," he assented. "But do you think it is as--as--" + +"Good form?" she queried, laughing. "Yes, if you choose to have it so. +It depends something upon the individual. With your training and +traditions, you would scarcely elect to sing comic opera in English." + +"Heaven forbid!" he said hastily. "But there are grades and grades, even +of the other. Not many mortals reach the top round of the ladder." + +"No; and, even if they did, they would be a good deal in your way, for +the space up there is limited. It will be merely a question of your own +will whether or not you occupy a part of it." + +He was surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. No woman, not +even Miss Gannion, had ever dared question to him the wisdom of his +choice, or imply to him that there were laurels which he had not yet +plucked. Strange to say, he rather enjoyed the frank fashion in which +Beatrix was taking him to task. Nevertheless, he fenced a little. + +"I have always preferred a moderate success to an immoderate failure," +he answered her. + +She shook her head. + +"That sounds specious; but you know it is a quibble. I had never +supposed that your ambition was so limited." + +"But it is not the mark of limitation to know where my success lies." + +"Perhaps not. For my part, though, I don't want to rest on any success. +If I succeed in one thing, that is over and done with, and I want to try +for something else." + +"And if you fail?" + +"Then, as soon as I am quite sure it is a failure and that no power of +mine can beat it into a success, I try to turn my back upon it, and face +another problem," she replied, with a quiet dignity which ignored the +flush that rose in both their faces at the careless question. + +Thayer, too, had seen the flush in her cheeks which had answered to his +own rising color. For an instant, he questioned whether it were an +unwitting acknowledgment that her power over Lorimer was more limited +than she had supposed. Then he dismissed the suspicion. Her poise was +too perfect to make such a supposition possible. It was only that he, +knowing the truth, sought for confirmation upon all sides. + +"You are a good fighter," he responded quietly. "What would be the +concrete application of your theory to my practice?" + +"That you should try to fulfil the ambition your old master has for +you," she returned. "Why don't you try it? You can't gain any more glory +in your present field; you stand at the head of concert and oratorio +singers in America. You have nothing to lose; and, over there in Berlin, +there is an old man who boasts that he made your voice, and says that he +can never sing his _Nunc Dimittis_ until you have entered upon your +right path." + +Thayer's face softened. + +"Did he say that?" + +"Yes, and he extorted a promise from me that I would tell you his very +words. That is the reason I have made bold to speak about the matter." + +"What do you think about it, yourself, Mrs. Lorimer?" + +"That he knows your possibilities much better than I," she answered +evasively. + +"But you have an opinion," he urged. + +"Yes, I have," she replied frankly. "From what he told me, and from what +I have heard of your singing, I know that you can do broader work than +any you have attempted. Your voice will do for either thing, opera or +oratorio; but on a few times--" she hesitated; then she went on without +flinching; "on the night of the Fresh Air Fund concert, for instance, +you showed a dramatic power that is wasted in your present work." +Suddenly she laughed at her own earnestness. "What am I, that I should +advise the star of the season? Do excuse my frankness, Mr. Thayer." + +"I asked you." + +"That's no reason I should bore you with all my theories upon a subject +of which I know practically nothing. And, meanwhile, I am forgetting to +tell you that we went to see Frau Arlt." + +His face showed his pleasure and his approval, his pleasure that he had +found something in Lorimer to which he could give his unreserved +approval. + +"I am glad you saw her. It was like Lorimer to hunt her up. Does Otto +know about it?" + +"He came to dinner, a day or two after we landed. Mr. Lorimer had +written him a note to tell him we were at home, and you should have seen +the boy's delight over the box of funny little odds and ends his mother +had sent him. Sidney is always so thoughtful, and he suggested to the +old lady that we had room in our trunks for a package. I really think +that the boy was happier with his home-made gifts than I was with the +things Mr. Lorimer gave me in Paris." + +[Illustration: "It was so that Thayer liked best to think of her"] + +"He has been a very brave, but a very homesick little German," Thayer +answered, while his eyes rested thoughtfully on her face. It brightened +now, as she spoke of Lorimer, and a half-tender, half-amused smile was +playing around her lips. All in all, Thayer was broad enough to like it +better so. + +Suddenly she rose, as if to end their conversation; but she turned back +again to add,-- + +"Of all my wedding gifts, Mr. Thayer, the sweetest was the blessing of +good old Frau Arlt. She will never forget Mr. Lorimer, and her story of +his kindness in their darkest days, her good wishes to me, and her +happiness in seeing us will always stand out as an unforgettable +picture. You knew all about it, of course; but I had no idea how good to +them Sidney had been, nor how full of tact." + +The smile still lingered about her lips, and her cheeks were flushed a +little, as she turned away in answer to her husband's call. For long +months to come, it was so that Thayer liked best to think of her. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +Beatrix raised her eyes from her letters. "Mother wants us to come to +dinner, to-night, Sidney." + +"But you are scheduled for something else; aren't you?" he answered, +without looking up from his paper. + +"For nothing that I can't break. There are some teas and the theatre. I +had thought I might have to hurry our dinner, to get through in time. +What if we give up the theatre? The Andersons won't mind, if we +telephone them so early." + +"Just as well," he responded indifferently, as he turned his paper +inside out and ran his eye down the columns. + +"Then shall I telephone mother that we will be there?" + +"You can go, Beatrix. I sha'n't be able to be there." + +"Why not, Sidney?" + +"Because Dudley is giving a dinner at the club, to-night, and I am +booked for that." + +"Oh, Sidney!" She checked herself abruptly. + +Lowering his paper, he looked at her in surprise. + +"What is it, dear?" he asked. + +"Nothing, only--I wouldn't go." + +"But I can't get out of it. Dudley made a point of my being there, and I +told him to count on me." + +"I am sorry," she said quietly. "I don't like Mr. Dudley." + +"Neither do I especially. Still, I saw a good deal of him at one time, +and, to-night, he wants to get together the old set. It's sort of a +farewell spread, for he starts for Nome, next week." + +"But you had promised the Andersons." + +"Yes, I told Anderson that I would get around in time to mingle my tears +with yours over the fifth act. Anderson is such a bore that I couldn't +stand a whole evening of him." + +"Then I shall certainly refuse to go," Beatrix said decidedly. + +Lorimer raised his brows inquiringly. + +"For any especial reason?" + +She had risen from the table, and now she stood looking down at him, a +world of disappointed love showing in her dark eyes. She forced herself +to smile a little, as her eyes met his. + +"I am old-fashioned, Sidney. I don't like going to the theatre with +other men than my husband, four months after my wedding day." + +He dropped his paper hastily, and, rising, linked his arm in hers. + +"Why, Beatrix dear, I didn't suppose--" + +"No," she said quietly; "but I wish you had supposed. Still, as long as +I found it out in time, there is no great harm done." + +"But with older people like the Andersons," he urged. "And I should have +been there to come home with you." + +She was silent, and he went on, after a pause,-- + +"I didn't think of your minding, dear girl. You know that I wouldn't be +discourteous to you for anything." + +"Never mind about it now, Sidney. I can telephone to Mrs. Anderson, and +it will be all right," she answered more gently, for she felt the +contrition in his tone and it softened her momentary resentment at his +calm way of adjusting her convenience and happiness to his plans. +"Mother said Bobby is coming, and possibly Sally Van Osdel. She wanted +the four of us to go there for an impromptu dinner such as we used to +have." + +"I am sorry, dear." There was a real note of regret in Lorimer's voice. +"She should have telephoned us earlier." + +"She waited for Bobby's decision. He is the only one of us, you know, +who makes even a pretence of being busy. Besides, as late in the season +as this, it is generally safe to count on people." + +"Apparently not," Lorimer returned lightly. "At least, I seem to be the +unlucky exception that proves the rule. I am sorry, for I know your +mother's dinners of old. I would break most engagements for them." + +"Why not this?" she urged. + +"Impossible. I promised, a week ago." + +Her face flushed. + +"How does it happen you haven't mentioned it?" + +His answering laugh was frank and free from any taint of bitterness. + +"Because I knew you didn't like Dudley, dear girl, and I didn't see any +use in discussing a matter on which we were bound to differ." He +evidently had had no intention of saying more; but, as he saw her +downcast face, he went on, "Truly, Beatrix, I couldn't decently refuse +the fellow, without any good reason." + +She raised her eyes to his face a little haughtily. + +"But it seems to me you had a good reason." + +Lorimer laughed again. It was plain that he was determined not to be +jarred out of his genial mood. + +"A good reason; but not one that was very tellable. You really don't +want me saying to a man that I can't eat his dinner because my wife +dislikes him." + +Lorimer had no notion that his words could sting his wife, and he was +surprised at her heightened color and at the sudden aggressive poise of +her head. Then swiftly she controlled herself. + +"Next time, you can concoct some more specious reason," she answered, +with forced lightness. + +In his turn, Lorimer felt himself irritated by her calm feminine +assumption that his acceptance or refusal of invitations in future was +to be bounded by her dislikes. + +"Next time, we will hope you will have annulled the reason," he +retorted. "Dudley isn't a bad fellow. Moreover, he has the saving grace +of knowing how to order a good dinner and get together a good crowd." + +She felt the half-veiled hostility of his tone, and it cut her. She had +received similar cuts before, during the past three or four months. +Instead of rendering her callous, they had left a sore sensitiveness in +their scars. She battled against the soreness bravely. The Danes were a +race with level nerves, trained by generations of self-control to look +upon moods and lack of breeding as synonymous terms; and Beatrix had had +no conception of the swift alternations of feeling which marked and +marred the temperament of Lorimer. Often as they had been together +during their rather long engagement, he had been able to maintain a +moderately even mood whenever Beatrix was within reach. On one or two +occasions, he had betrayed the fact that he was gloomy and depressed; +but it was not until they came into the every-day and all-day contact +which follows upon the heels of the marriage ceremony that she had +supposed he could be either irritable or petulant. By the time they had +come home from Europe, she was quite aware of both characteristics; yet +they were alternated with hours of passionate devotion, of a tender +chivalry which took away much of their sting. Lorimer loved his wife +loyally; nevertheless, the very traits which most won the admiration of +his better hours, were the first ones to antagonize him when his moments +of irritation were upon him. + +If Beatrix had been of the same temper, the danger for the future would +have been infinitely less. Flash would have answered to flash; and then +the quiet current would have run on as if the perfect contact had never +been broken. Instead of that, her quieter, better-controlled nature +received his flashes and made no outward sign of the shock. In the end, +she remained painfully sensitive to his petulance, while his real love +for her left her unbelieving, cold and apathetic. She had proof of the +one; the other was mainly negative, in so far as practical results were +concerned. + +"Who are to be there?" she asked, as soon as she could trust her voice +to be properly inexpressive. + +"Austin, and Tom Forbes, and Lloyd Avalons, and two or three men you +don't know, and Thayer." + +"Mr. Thayer?" Her accent was incredulous. + +"Certainly. Why not?" + +"I didn't know that he ever had anything to do with Mr. Dudley, and I +really can't imagine his caring to make a table companion of Lloyd +Avalons." + +Lorimer's answering laugh was slightly bitter. + +"What a social Philistine you are, Beatrix! Thayer is not so narrow." + +"Does that mean I am narrow?" she asked resentfully. + +"Yes, for a woman who frowned disapproval upon Sally Van Osdel's late +utterances." + +"Sally was talking of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons is not bad, +only foolish: Mr. Lloyd Avalons is both." She drew a long breath, as she +paused with her teeth shut upon her lower lip. Suddenly her chin began +to quiver, and two heavy tears slid down her cheeks. Then she rallied +swiftly, for she knew that all men hate domestic tears. "Sidney," she +said slowly and with an evident effort towards steadiness; "let's not +discuss this any more. I will go to mother's, and you may come for me +there, after your dinner is over. I wish you could go with me; but never +mind. Only, Sidney,--next time, please tell me a little sooner when you +make a dinner engagement, and then I shall know just how to fit my plans +into yours. And--?" She raised her eyes to meet his squarely. + +He understood. + +"Yes, dear girl, I will be careful," he said, as he drew her to his +side. + +For a moment, she stood there, passive. Then she went away out of the +room. + +Thayer was the last guest to arrive, that night, and when he entered the +room, he found that both host and _chef_ were anxiously awaiting his +coming. He had spent the past two hours with Arlt, listening to scraps +of the completed overture, suggesting, praising, criticising it with an +acumen which surprised even the young composer, though he was fast +learning to attribute omniscience to his friend. After the shabby room +with its half-light, after the intent earnestness of Arlt, Thayer felt a +passing dislike of the gorgeousness and glare and frivolity of the +dinner. He was the last man to assert that good art can only associate +itself with homely origins, that prosperity is a deadly foe to its +growth. Nevertheless, he was fully conscious that Arlt in his meagre +surroundings was much nearer to his own ideals than were the immaculate +guests of the evening. Thayer loved luxury; but it must not be +accompanied by empty-headedness. + +Thayer had had a definite purpose in accepting his invitation, that +night, a purpose which was quite alien to his mental estimate of his +host. Dudley, to his mind, was in some respects a shade or two better +than Lloyd Avalons, yet many shades worse in that his caddishness came +from deliberate choice, not from lack of training. In any case, Thayer +prayed that he might be remote from either of them, at table. + +He quickly discovered that his prayer had been unavailing. He found +himself at the host's right hand, with Lorimer directly opposite. Lloyd +Avalons was next to Lorimer, and, as the dinner progressed by easy +stages, Thayer became aware that his purpose in coming was about to be +put to the test. The dinner was good and abundant; the wines were better +and yet more abundant, and Lloyd Avalons, who appeared to be constructed +of some material which alcohol was powerless to attack, saw to it that +Lorimer's glass was filled as often as his own. The result was +inevitable. Before Lloyd Avalons felt the slightest exhilaration, +Lorimer's brown cheeks were stained with red, and his voice was mounting +by semitones, then by whole tones, while his accent took on a curiously +insistent note which was quite foreign to the trivial subjects of +discussion. + +"How did it happen that you were at Eton, Lorimer?" Dudley asked, at the +end of an unnecessarily long story. + +"My father took me over. He was at St. James, you know, and he thought I +would find more fellows of my own class at Eton than up here at +Andover." + +"That's modest of you, Lorimer," someone called, from the foot of the +table. "But please remember that I'm an Andover man." + +"And even then wouldn't they accept you for the ministry?" Lorimer asked +promptly. + +The man laughed with perfect good-temper. Already he was two glasses +ahead of Lorimer; but no outward sign betrayed the fact. + +"I am willing to bet that they kept you more strict at Eton than the +Doctor kept us." + +Lorimer set down his glass and gave a knowing wink which, at another +time, he would have been swift to condemn in his left-hand neighbor. + +"They tried; but they couldn' do much about it. Besides, there was +college, you know." + +"We all have experienced university discipline," Dudley suggested. "It +is swift and powerful, and nobody ever knows where it will hit next." + +Lorimer appeared to be pondering the matter. Then he turned to Lloyd +Avalons. + +"D' you ever 'sperience university discipline?" he demanded, with grave +anxiety. + +Lloyd Avalons flushed angrily, and Thayer judged that it was time to +interpose. + +"University discipline is more a matter of theory than of fact," he said +lightly. "If you want real discipline, you'd better go through a course +of voice training. How much was my allowance, the last of the time in +Berlin, Lorimer? My salamanders were mere tadpoles." + +Lorimer caught at the familiar word. + +"_Ein! Zwei! Drei! Salamander! Salamander! Salamander!_" he cried +gayly. "It makesh me homesick for the good ol' days in Berlin." + +"You were over, in January; weren't you?" Lloyd Avalons asked. + +"Yes, aft' a fashion; but 't wasn' the ol' fashion. A studen' an' a +married man's two differen' things. I took Mrs. Lorimer everywhere an' +to show her grat'tude she took me in han'." And Lorimer's own laugh rang +out merrily at what seemed to him a superlatively good joke. + +The next moment, Thayer's level voice, low, yet so perfectly trained +that it reached the farthest corner of the room, broke in upon Lorimer's +mirth and quenched it. There was no bitterness in his voice, no +excitement; he spoke as quietly as if he had been wishing his friend +good-morning. + +"It's a pity she isn't here to take you in hand now, Lorimer," he said, +with a smile. "As long as she isn't, I think perhaps I'll do it, +myself." + +The deliberate, even tone steadied Lorimer somewhat. He pulled himself +together and stared haughtily at Thayer. + +"What do you mean?" he demanded. "I don't understand you." + +There was a short silence while it pleased Lorimer to imagine that he +was measuring his puny strength against the power of the other. Then, +before Thayer's gray eyes, his own eyes drooped. + +"I think you do understand, Lorimer," Thayer said calmly. "If not, we +can talk it over outside. You know we are due at Mrs. Dane's at ten, and +it is almost that, now. Dudley, I am sorry that this is good-by for so +long. Don't let us break up the party." And, rising, he nodded to the +other guests and took his departure without a backward glance. + +He had reckoned accurately, for experience had taught him to know his +man. Lorimer sat still for a moment, then hesitated, and rose. He bade +an over-cordial good-night to Dudley and Lloyd Avalons, exchanged with +the others a jesting word or two of which the humor was obviously +forced; then he sullenly followed Thayer out of the room and out of the +club. + +Once safely in the street, Thayer freed his mind, forcibly and tersely +according to his wont. + +"It's bad enough to fall into temptation, Lorimer; but the fellow who +deliberately canters into it comes mighty near not being worth the +saving. Some day, you'll wake up to find the truth of that fact; and +then Heaven help you, for there may not be anyone else willing to take +the trouble!" + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + + +Slowly and by almost imperceptible stages, spring had crept into summer +and summer had crawled sluggishly into autumn. Rose color had turned to +green, green to gold, and then all colors had faded to the uniform gray +of November. To Beatrix it seemed that nature's change typified that of +her life; to Thayer and Arlt the rose color and the gold were still +glowing. For the time being, the problems of their professional lives +were absorbing them both, to the exclusion of more human interests. Such +epochs are bound to come to every man. However broad and generous-minded +he may be, there are hours when it seems to him that the rising of the +sun and the going down of the same are functions of nature ordained +merely for the sake of giving chronological record of his own +professional advancement. November brought them both to this mood and, +while it lasted, each found the other his only satisfactory companion. + +To Thayer the summer had been a matter of personal mathematics, the +solving of simultaneous personal equations. He had refused the +Lorimers' urgent invitation to join them at Monomoy. He had felt unequal +to prolong the double strain he had endured, those last weeks in town +before society broke up for the summer. It was almost unbearable to him +to be within daily reach of Beatrix, to be forced to face her with the +unvarying conventional smile of mere social acquaintance. It was +infinitely worse to be forced to look on and watch the gradual wrecking +of her hopes, to know that she was unhappy, discouraged and full of fear +for the future, and to realize that another man was carelessly bringing +upon her all this from which he would have given his own life to shield +her. Yet bad and worse were subordinated to worst. The worst, the most +unbearable phase of the whole situation lay in the knowledge, again and +again brought to the proof, that he himself was the only living person +who had the ability to hold Lorimer even approximately steady, that in a +way the thread of his destiny was knotted together with that of Beatrix. +He loved her absolutely, and the only proof of his love for her must lie +in his strange power to make more tolerable for her the galling yoke of +her marriage to another man. + +Even in these few short months, it had become evident to the world that +the yoke was a galling one. Beatrix wore it bravely, even haughtily. +Nevertheless, it was chafing her until she was raw. Like a horse +surprised by the discovery of its own power, from occasional friskiness, +Lorimer was settling into a steadily increasing pace. During the months +of probation, he had held himself fairly steady, rather than lose the +chance of winning Beatrix for his wife. Now that she was won, he snapped +the check he had put upon himself, and yielded to the acquired momentum +gained during his self-imposed repression. By the time he came home from +Europe, Bobby and Thayer both realized that something was amiss. By the +first of June, it was an open secret that all was not well with +Lorimer's soul. + +Lorimer still loved Beatrix with all the fervor of his nature. To him, +she was the one and only woman in the world, someone to be caressed and +indulged and played with, the comrade of his domestic hours. But, when +the other mood was upon him, he acknowledged no right upon her part to +offer advice or warning. He treated her as one treats a spoiled child, +fondling her until her presence bored him or interfered with his other +plans, then quietly setting her aside and going his own way alone. As +far as any woman could have held him, Beatrix could have done so; but +in Lorimer's life feminine influence was finite. When he was moved to +take the bits in his teeth, only a man, and but one man at that, was +able to check him. That man was Cotton Mather Thayer. + +On a few occasions, Beatrix had endeavored to hold her husband, not from +temptation itself, but from the first steps towards it. She might as +well have tried to bar the rising tide with a pint sieve. At such times, +it seemed to her that Lorimer deliberately made up his mind to have a +revel, that he set himself to work to carry out his desires to a +satisfactory conclusion. These periods came at irregular intervals; but, +all in all, the intervals were shortening and the revels were +increasing. Beatrix learned their symptoms far too quickly; she learned +to know the depression and irritability which greeted her every effort +to rouse and to please him. It was at such times that Lorimer made +bitter revolt against what he termed her narrowness and prejudice, or +burst into occasional angry petulance, if she tried to urge him to cut +loose from the club and from the constantly-growing influence of Lloyd +Avalons who was discerning enough to discover that Lorimers appetite was +a possible lever by which he himself might pry himself up into a more +stable position in society. In this matter, however, Lloyd Avalons was +not quite so unprincipled as he seemed. To his mind, there was nothing +so very bad about a little matter of social intoxication. The evil of +drink was an affair bounded by purely geographical lines, and he +encouraged in Lorimer the very thing for which he would have been prompt +to dismiss the man who cleaned the snow off his sidewalk. + +Afterwards, when the depression had ended in the revel, when they both +had ended in penitence, Lorimer temporarily came back again to the old +ways. The caressing intonations returned to his voice, as he talked to +Beatrix; his eyes followed her with loving pride, as she moved about the +room; for days at a time he devoted himself to her wishes, serving her +with a tireless chivalry which made her long to forget all that had gone +before. However, Beatrix could not forget certain facts; certain +episodes were so fixed in her memory that they seemed branded upon the +very tissue of her life. In some respects, these intervening days were +the hardest ones she had to bear. Lorimer seemed totally unable to grasp +the fact that any permanent barrier was rising between them, that there +was any real reason why they should not meet on precisely the old +ground. To his mind, half an hour of impulsive penitence could wipe out +half a night of deliberate sin, and Beatrix dared not explain to him +that it was otherwise. Her hold over him, that hold which once she had +deemed so strong, was growing slighter with every passing month. Any +hasty or ill-considered word from her might have the effect of +destroying it altogether. For the present, the most she could do, was to +avoid antagonizing him; and even that was no easy task. She was quite +unable to decide whether it took more self-control to accept in silence +his petulance or his caresses. Meanwhile, she was thankful for the +apparently growing friendship between Thayer and her husband. During +late May and all of June, Thayer was with Lorimer almost daily, and +Lorimer came nearest to his old, winning self on the days when he had +been longest in company with Thayer. + +With the general scattering of people which heralds the coming of +summer, it seemed to Thayer that, for the time being, Lorimer's danger +was over, and it was with a sigh of utter relief that he saw Lorimer and +Beatrix starting for Monomoy. Strong as he was, Thayer had felt the +strain of the past six weeks; and it was good to hide himself with Arlt +in a Canadian fishing village, dismiss his responsibilities to his +neighbor, and give himself up to absolute idleness and much good music. + +He had planned to spend August and September in Germany; but fate willed +otherwise. Less than a week before he was to sail, he received a laconic +epistle from Bobby Dane, dated at the hotel where he himself had spent +the previous summer. + + "DEAR THAYER,--Wish you could come down here for August. Lorimer is + raising the deuce, and I can't do much with him. Besides, I am + ordered back, next week. I suppose the devil needs my + ministrations. I'll see to one, if you'll tackle the other. + + Yours, + R. F. DANE." + +Thayer hesitated for three minutes. Then he wrote two telegrams. One was +to the office of the steamship company. The other was to the hotel near +Monomoy. + +The reaction which followed, was a natural one. Late in September, +Thayer returned to New York, preparatory to a concert tour through New +England. Exhausted by the long strain of mastering both himself and +Lorimer, he threw himself into his work with a feverish intensity which +astounded Arlt and roused his audiences to the highest pitch of +enthusiasm. Thayer took his new honors quietly, however. In his secret +heart, he knew that this had been the simplest way to work off his +stored-up emotions, and he reached New York, early in November, with a +greater reputation and steadier nerves than he had even dared to hope. + +The tour had been a prosperous one for Arlt, as well. Upon several +occasions, he had met with marked favor, and the little touch of success +had reacted upon his personality, rendering him more at ease, more +masterful with his audience. To be popular, art must be modest; but woe +betide it, if it be in the least deprecating! However, Arlt was learning +to face his public with a fairly good grace, and his public showed +itself willing to smile back at him in a thoroughly friendly fashion. + +Arlt's overture was to have its first hearing, the week before +Thanksgiving. The matter had been arranged through the influence of his +teacher, and Arlt had been invited to conduct the orchestra for the +event. However, in spite of his added ease, Arlt had judged such an +ordeal too great for his courage. Accordingly, the teacher and Thayer +had taken council together, with the result that Thayer was engaged as +soloist for the evening, and that Thayer insisted upon singing one +group of songs with a piano accompaniment. To this minor detail, Arlt +had been forced to submit, although he was shrewd enough to see that it +was merely a ruse on the part of his teacher to bring him in person +before his audience. + +The arrangement of these details, the orchestral rehearsals of the +overture and his own rehearsals with Arlt were engrossing Thayer +completely. Heart and soul, he was working for the boy's success, for he +realized that into this simple overture Arlt had put the very best of +himself, that the young composer's happiness was bound up in the success +or failure of his maiden effort. The creative power had come upon him; +he had worked to the utmost limit with the material ready to his brain. +Now he was waiting to have the world pass judgment whether his work was +worth the doing, whether he should keep on, or turn his back upon his +chosen path. Thayer's own plans, too, were maturing. In the watching +them develop, in the helping Arlt to pass the time of waiting, he almost +succeeded in forgetting the Lorimers. Almost; but not quite. The +forgetting was a little too intentional to be entirely complete. He met +them rarely. Society had not yet organized its winter campaign, and it +was still possible for a man to go his own individual way. Just now, +Thayer's own individual way led him almost daily in the direction of +Washington Square. + +He was in Arlt's room, one evening, less than a week before the concert. +He had been dining with Miss Gannion; but he had left her early, in +order to impress upon Arlt that he must accept his bidding to the supper +which the Lorimers were to give after the concert. The invitations had +been noncommittal, and Arlt had announced his intention of declining his +own, on the plea of being too tired with his overture to care to do +anything more, that night. Miss Gannion had told Thayer what he already +half suspected, that Beatrix was really giving this supper in Arlt's +honor and that it was to be the first large affair of the season, in the +hope of focussing public attention upon the boy at the very moment of +his having proved his real genius as composer. Thayer appreciated to the +full the gracious kindliness of the plan, and he had excused himself to +Miss Gannion and hurried away in search of Arlt, devoutly praying, as he +went, that the note of regret might not be already on its way. + +He was but just in time. The sealed note lay on the table, and Arlt was +shrugging himself into his overcoat, when Thayer entered the room. Ten +minutes later, they were still arguing the matter, when they heard an +unfamiliar step coming up the stairs. + +"Mr. Arlt?" A strange voice followed the knock. + +Arlt opened the door hospitably. The dim light in the hallway showed him +a figure known to every opera singer in America and half of Europe. + +"Will you come in?" he asked, in some surprise. + +"Is Mr. Thayer here?" + +"I am." Thayer stepped into the lighted doorway. "You wished me?" + +"Yes. What is more, I need you. We know each other well by sight, so I +suppose there is no call for us to waste time on introductions. Mr. +Thayer, Principali, one of my best baritones, is ill and is forced to +cancel his engagements. Will you take his place?" + +Thayer meditated swiftly, during a moment of silence. + +"What are the operas?" + +"Wagner, _Faust_ of course, and--oh, the usual run of extras." + +"What reason have you to think that I am fitted for your vacancy?" +Thayer asked directly. + +The impresario smiled. + +"Your old master in Berlin is one of my most intimate friends. He gave +you a letter of introduction to me, I think?" The accent was +interrogative, although it was plain that only one answer was expected. + +"He did," Thayer assented quietly. + +"Yes, and I have been waiting for more than a year in the hope that you +would present it. Since you will not come to me, I am at last driven to +go in search of you." + +Thayer bowed gravely in recognition of the implied compliment. He +realized that he was suddenly facing a question which might affect his +whole after life, and he was too much in earnest to waste words on mere +conventional phrases. He liked the old man, and he felt a swift, burning +longing to accept his offer. It had come unsought, unexpected. Was not +fate in it; and was not a man always justified in following out his +fate? To accept it would be in a great measure to cut himself off from +his present social life. An operatic engagement would engross him +completely. All in all, it might be better so. And yet, there was +something to be said upon the other side. Was he justified in working +out his own professional salvation at the certain cost of the damnation +of another soul? That was what it amounted to in the long run. If he +went into opera, he must separate himself from all connection with +Sidney Lorimer. He could not take the time to visit Lorimer's world; it +would be sure and swift destruction to Lorimer, if he were to set foot +within the new world which Thayer was preparing to enter. Thayer +realized that the horns of his dilemma were long and curving. The offer +tempted him sorely; yet, for some unaccountable reason, he shrank from +turning his back upon Lorimer. And, besides, if Beatrix-- + +"How long would you need me?" + +"The entire season." + +"How soon?" + +"In _Faust_, on the tenth of next month." + +"In _Faust_?" + +The impresario saw that Thayer was hesitating. The idea of Faust plainly +attracted him, and the impresario hastily followed up the advantage. + +"Yes, we want you for _Valentine_." + +"My favorite part," Thayer said, half to himself. + +The impresario smiled serenely. He felt no question now as to the +outcome of his errand. + +"Calvé will sing _Marguerite_; it will be a good cast. After that, we +shall need you, two or three times a week, and the salary--" + +Impatiently Thayer brushed his words aside. + +"How soon must you have my answer?" + +"To-night." + +"Very well. Then, no." + +The impresario straightened up in his chair. + +"Mr. Thayer!" he remonstrated. + +"It is impossible for me to bind myself for an entire season, without +more time to think the matter over," Thayer said quietly. + +"But it is important that I should know, in order to make my other +arrangements." + +"Then you would better consider it settled in the negative," Thayer +returned. + +The impresario wavered. + +"How much time do you need?" he asked a little impatiently. + +"I must have a week." + +"Impossible." + +"Very well, then. But I thank you for the honor you have done me in +asking me to fill the place." + +Thayer rose with an air of decision, and the impresario could do nothing +else than follow his example. At the door, he turned back. + +"Mr. Thayer, there is no use in my trying to conceal the fact that I +want you badly. If I will wait until a week from to-night, will you give +me your answer then?" + +"I will," Thayer replied imperturbably. + +"And sign the contracts on the spot?" + +"I will," Thayer repeated; "but remember this: in the meantime, I am +binding myself to nothing. Good-night." + +He went down the stairs with the impresario. When he returned to Arlt's +room, a moment later, he took up the conversation at the precise point +where they had dropped it; but, even in the dusky room, Arlt could see +that Thayer's eyes were blazing as he had never seen them till then. Not +long afterwards, Thayer glanced down at his own strong, slim hand that +rested on the table beside him. The fingers were moving restlessly and, +on the back, the cords twitched a little now and then. Thayer watched it +curiously for a moment. Then he clasped his hands on his knee and held +them there, motionless. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + + +Above the murmur of talk of his guests, Lorimer's voice rose, high and +clear, merry as the voice of a happy child. + +"It's a great night for you, Arlt, the night of your life. Ladies and +ge'men, le's drink to Mr. Arlt." + +"You've done it once, Lorimer," Thayer interposed. "Arlt will be getting +more than is good for him." + +"And so will you," he might have added; but there seemed to him a +certain impossibility in imposing a check upon a man in his own house +and in the presence of his own guests. + +Lorimer laughed out blithely. + +"Ne' mind. Arlt can stand it; his head is level. B'sides, las' time, I +drank to Arlt the composer. This time, it's to Arlt the accompanist. He +hasn' any business to play a double rôle, if he can' stan' the double +applause. To the success of Mr. Otto Arlt!" + +Thayer raised his glass and set it down again, untasted. As he glanced +across at Arlt with an explanatory smile, he caught the eyes of Beatrix +fixed upon him imploringly. It was evident that she was putting her hope +in him to end the scene; but for the once Thayer was ready to confess +himself beaten. The house and the champagne both were Lorimer's. Under +these conditions, he was powerless to act. Moreover, he felt a sudden +impatience with Beatrix for allowing the champagne in her own home, when +she had learned from months of bitter experience that a single glass +could render Lorimer totally untrustworthy. If this were the measure of +her influence for good, she might as well have married Lorimer in the +first place, without insisting upon those long months of probation. As +he had watched the progress of that merry supper in Arlt's honor, Thayer +had been distressed about Lorimer and about the scene which must +inevitably follow; but his distress had been as nothing in comparison +with his disappointment in Beatrix. + +In reality, Beatrix had had no responsibility in the matter. + +"I don't see any need of our having champagne, Sidney," she had said, on +the morning that they had first discussed the detail of the supper. + +Lorimer had been in one of his old-time moods. Now he laughed a little. + +"What a Puritan you are, Beatrix!" he said, as he bent caressingly over +her shoulder to read the completed list of guests. + +"Not a Puritan," she urged; "but I would rather not have the champagne, +Sidney. It isn't at all necessary; we can get on perfectly well without +it." + +"And a good deal better with it," he retorted, laughing. "Well, never +mind it now, dear girl. But what about a florist?" + +And Beatrix, delighted at her easy victory, had allowed herself to be +led off into a consideration of the decorations for the table. She could +not be expected to foresee that, in giving the final orders for the +supper, Lorimer would include a generous allowance of champagne. Neither +could she have foreseen that one of the invitations would find its way +into the hands of Lloyd Avalons. Confronted suddenly by both the +champagne and Lloyd Avalons, Beatrix had faltered only for a moment. +Then she had rallied to meet the inevitable crisis so swiftly that no +one but Bobby Dane at her elbow had been aware of her momentary +weakness. Thayer had been at the other end of the room, and had missed +the instant of hesitation. By the time he had discovered the situation, +Beatrix had forced herself to meet it as a matter of course. She +faltered a second time, however, as she met the questioning glance which +Thayer gave her. She had learned to care for his good opinion; she knew +that now she was in danger of forfeiting it. Nevertheless, her loyalty +to her husband was paramount. Never by a spoken word had she implied to +Thayer that Lorimer was falling below her ideals. To-night, hurt as she +was by his deception, anxious as she was in regard to the outcome of the +episode, nevertheless she remained true to her usual careful reticence. +To a woman of Beatrix Lorimer's temper it was easier to bear unjust +blame than to demand just pity. And yet, as she recognized that the +facts were apparently all against her, she could not help hoping that +Thayer would suspend judgment until he had talked with Bobby Dane. Bobby +had seen the memoranda for the supper, and had advised her in regard to +some of the details. Not only was he the one person besides herself and +Lorimer who knew the whole truth; but he could invariably be relied upon +to tell the truth in its entirety. + +As Lorimer had said, it was a great night for Arlt. His work had scored +a complete success, and he had been called twice before the audience to +receive in person his applause. Something in the simple overture had +caught the fancy of the orchestra, and they had played it with an +enthusiasm, had interpreted it with a dainty accuracy to Arlt's own mood +which would have won prompt recognition for a work of far less merit. +The critics were warm in their praises; but the audience, upon whom a +popular success depends far more than upon the professional leaders of +opinion, was in a mood to be expressed by no such temperate phrase. As +he lingered in the Lorimers' box, watching the young German come forward +to the footlights, Thayer was ready to predict a fair measure of lasting +popularity to his friend. The audience was most hospitable to him. It +now remained for the Lorimers' supper to set upon him the seal of social +approval. For Arlt's sake, Thayer devoutly hoped that the supper would +be a success. Under other conditions, he might have had his doubts. This +was the first time he had seen Lorimer for weeks; but the stories which +had drifted to his ears had not been reassuring. In Lorimer's own house, +however, there could be no danger. He felt that he could count upon +Beatrix to forestall that. + +In the weeks since they had met, it seemed to him that Beatrix must have +grown more beautiful with each passing day. Beneath the perfect poise +of her manner, he could see an increasing gentleness, a sadness which +was under absolute control. She was as strong as ever, but less +self-reliant. Experience had taught her that she was powerless to fight +alone. In her worst battles, she had learned that she must rely upon +another; and Thayer, as he watched her, rejoiced that that other was +himself. His weeks of separation from her, of enforced forgetfulness, +had taught him a lesson which he had been loath to learn. Rather than be +outside her world, rather than be upon the same footing as all the other +inhabitants of that world, he would gladly endure a strain like that of +the past summer, would accept the place where fate had put him, as the +one man who could make more tolerable her own life with her husband. It +was not a dignified position; yet, for her sake, he believed that he +could fill it in a way which would add dignity to the lives of them +both. At least, he would do the best that was in him. He took no account +of the possibility that, within an hour, he would be balked in his +efforts by certain uninfringible laws of hospitality. + +"Moreover," Lorimer went on, still in that unwonted high, clear voice; +"le's drink to Arlt's mother an' sister, Frau Arlt an' Frăulein Katarina +Arlt." + +The sudden angry color blazed up in Arlt's cheeks, and he straightened +in his chair. Then he caught Thayer's eye, and with an effort he +controlled himself. The instant's by-play had caused Thayer to lose the +next words of his host; but Lorimer's laugh was ringing out with such +infectious mirth that the guests were laughing with him, although with +obvious reluctance to show their merriment. + +Lorimer babbled on discursively. + +"I knew 'em well. They were having har' times to get on, an' Arlt here +could n' begin to carry the load. It was killing him, an' so Thayer an' +I--" + +"Let the rest go, Lorimer," Thayer broke in hastily, for now two +appealing faces were looking to him for help. "We know all about it." + +Lorimer turned to him with an air of grave rebuke. + +"You know, Thayer, for you were there. But the res' do' know. How could +they? They were n' there." He paused long enough to empty the glass +before him. Then he braced one hand against the edge of the table and +raised the other, as if to add emphasis to his words. "I was there, an' +you were there, an' Arlt was there. Nobody else was there. If they had +been, they'd know 'bout it, to-night. Plucky fellow, Arlt, an' he +d'serves his success. If 't had n' been for you an' me, Thayer, Arlt +would have gone under, though. No wond' Frau Arlt calls me _Lieb Sohn_. +If it had n' been for me, she would n' have had any _sohn_ 't all. With +me, there's pair of us." + +He delivered himself of this long speech with an air of portentous +gravity. Then he turned away from Thayer and smiled benignly up the +table. Side by side at the farther end, Arlt and Beatrix seemed +powerless to take their eyes from his face. Lorimer caught the eye of +Beatrix and instantly his face lighted, as he kissed his hand to her. + +"Supper's a gran' success, dear girl," he called gayly. "Ought to be, +cost 'nough, an' has been no end trouble; but it pays. People will know +wha' we think of Arlt now. He's geniush, 'n no mishtake; are n' you, +Arlt?" + +"Bobby," Sally whispered; "I must go away, I can't bear this for another +minute." + +Bobby nodded comprehendingly. + +"Slip out, the next time he begins on Thayer. I think you can do it, and +you oughtn't to stay. I wish the others would go, too." + +"They may follow me. I would break it up, if I dared; but--Bobby, I'm +afraid." + +"So am I," Bobby growled through his shut teeth. "Come back in the +morning, Sally. Beatrix may need you. I'd go with you now; but I dare +not leave things." + +But Lorimer's eye was upon them. + +"Wha' now, Sally?" he asked jovially. "Bobby been making a bad pun, that +you look so savage?" + +Sally hesitated. For one instant, she eyed her host as if he had been a +scorpion that had crawled across her path. Then she controlled herself, +and her voice took on its customary mocking drawl. + +"No; I only feel savage because I know you must have set the clocks +ahead. Just see! It is high time we all were going home, and you know I +always hate to start." + +Lorimer glanced at the clock on the mantel. Then he turned to the man +behind his chair. + +"Stop tha' clock!" he commanded. "We can' have anybody talk 'bout going +home yet. Night's only jus' begun, an' there's quarts more champagne. +Beatrix did n' wan' us to have any; but I don' believe in being stingy." + +Sally had already risen, and one or two other women, casting furtive, +apologetic glances towards Beatrix, were hurriedly following Sally's +example. In the slight confusion, it seemed to Thayer that his chance +had come, and he took it. Unfortunately, however, for the once he had +reckoned without his man. He had kept careful count of the glasses which +Lorimer had emptied since he had sat down at the table, and he knew that +the danger limit was not far distant. In fact, the danger limit was +already passed. Thayer had had no means of taking into account the +glasses which Lorimer had slyly emptied, during his short absence from +the room before they had gone to the table. The mischief was already +done. The slightest shock which could disturb Lorimer's present mood +would be sufficient to destroy his whole mental balance past any +possibility of restoration. Thayer's error in judgment promptly +furnished the shock. + +Lorimer had turned again to the butler at the back of his chair. + +"Fill thish up," he demanded, as he pointed to his glass. + +With a swift gesture, Thayer caught the man's attention, and shook his +head. The man hesitated, halting between two masters. The one paid him +his wages; the other commanded his entire respect, and it was not easy +for him to choose the one whom he should obey. + +"Fill thish up, I shay!" Lorimer's voice was thicker, his accent +imperious. + +Swiftly the old butler glanced at Thayer as if for instructions, and +Thayer again shook his head. This time, Lorimer saw the signal. The next +instant, his empty glass was flying straight in the direction of +Thayer's face. + +There was a frightened outcry from the women; but Thayer swerved +slightly to one side, and the glass crashed harmlessly against the +mantel. There followed the tinkle of the falling pieces, then a +stillness so profound that from one end to the other of the long room +Lorimer's heavy breathing was distinctly audible. The impending crisis +seemed to paralyze the guests. Those who had risen, stood motionless in +their places; the others made no effort to rise. They remained there +together, silent, passive, tense, with Lorimer facing them all, like a +savage beast at bay. + +[Illustration: "Beatrix still sat at the disordered table"] + +The interval, seemingly so endless, lasted only for a moment. Then, with +a beast-like snarl, Lorimer sprang up, overturning his chair, and hurled +himself straight upon Thayer. Strong as he was, Thayer tottered before +the blow, for the strength of Lorimer just then was far beyond the +human. Drink-crazed and brutalized, he had the fierce power of a +maddened brute. There was a swift, sharp struggle, broken by strange, +inarticulate cries, making the women hide their faces and cram their +fingers into their ears to shut out sight and sound. Then the struggle +grew still again, and they heard Thayer's steady voice saying,-- + +"I think he is quiet now. Dane, will you help me to carry him to his +room?" + +One by one, the terrified guests slank away. There were no good-nights +scarcely a whispered word in the dressing-rooms upstairs. At length, +they were all gone, and the house was still. The lights from the open +windows glared out across the night, and the rooms inside were heavy +with the fragrance of roses and the smell of champagne. Upstairs in +Lorimer's room, Thayer and Bobby Dane were watching the lethargic sleep +which had fallen upon their host, and counting the moments until Arlt +could bring the doctor back with him. Downstairs, alone in the abandoned +dining-room, Beatrix still sat at the disordered table, with her head +bowed forward upon her clasped hands. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + + +"It's a devilish mess, do what you will," Bobby said grimly, the next +morning. + +"The punishment seems a good deal out of proportion to the cause," +Thayer replied briefly. + +"Hh!" Bobby grunted. "I think he did well to get off without a genuine +case of D. T." + +"I was speaking of your cousin, not of Lorimer." + +Bobby stared at him in astonishment. + +"Really, Thayer, I can't see any cause that was of Beatrix's making," he +returned haughtily. + +"It was mistaken judgment, to say the least, to have champagne in the +house," Thayer answered. + +"Beatrix had nothing to do with that," Bobby blazed forth angrily. "It +was that brute of a Lorimer, and he deserves all he got, and more, too. +I saw the order to the caterer, made out in Beatrix's handwriting, and +there wasn't a pint of champagne on it. Lorimer sent in the order +afterwards, just as he invited that serpent of a Lloyd Avalons. Beatrix +couldn't help herself." + +"She could have countermanded the order." + +"She didn't know it till the guests were there. I was with her when she +discovered it, and she took it like a heroine. She was perfectly +helpless. She couldn't make a scene in her own house, and she couldn't +reasonably be expected to send her guests home. She knew exactly what +was bound to happen, what she couldn't help happening, and she kept her +head steady and faced the thing as boldly as she could. I never thought +you would be the one to go back on her, Thayer." + +Thayer started to speak. Then he squared his jaw, and was silent. After +a long interval, he said humbly,-- + +"I have wronged your cousin, Dane. I am very sorry." + +"So am I," Bobby returned flatly. "Beatrix has come to where she needs +every friend she owns in the world to stand by her. By to-night, the +story of that supper will have spread from the Battery to Poughkeepsie +bridge. It will be garbled and twisted into all manner of shapes, and it +will come boomeranging back at her from every quarter of the town. When +it comes to gossip, we find Manhattan Island is a mighty small place; +but I suppose Australia is just as bad." + +Thayer interrupted his meditations ruthlessly. + +"How is Lorimer, this morning? You've been to the house, I suppose." + +"Yes, I've just come from there. Lorimer is convalescent, which means he +is a blamed sight better than he deserves to be. I didn't care to see +him; but they assured me he was sitting up and regaling himself on raw +oysters and chicken broth. He is probably an edifying spectacle by this +time, a mush of maudlin penitence. I've seen him before this in his +next-morning mood. Put not your trust in a moral jellyfish!" And Bobby, +his fists in his pockets, stamped up and down the room to ease his +resentment. "The next move is to be a radical one," he continued, after +a pause. "They are going into the Adirondacks." + +Thayer looked up sharply. + +"They? Who?" + +"Beatrix and Lorimer." + +"What for?" + +"Safety; taking to the woods, and all that." + +"What do you mean, Dane?" Thayer asked sternly. "This is no time for +joking. Do speak out." + +"I beg your pardon, Thayer. The fact is, I am utterly reckless, this +morning, and I don't know nor care what I am saying. If you loved +Beatrix as I do--" + +"Yes," Thayer returned quietly. "I understand." + +"No; you don't. You can't. We've been such chums. What hurts her, hurts +me; and, to my dying day, I shall never forget her as we found her in +the dining-room, last night. She knew then it was all over." Bobby's +voice broke upon the last words; then he pulled himself up sharply. +"This morning, we had a council of war, Mrs. Dane and Beatrix and the +doctor and I. The doctor says that Beatrix isn't well, and that another +such scene would kill her, or worse. I was for shutting Lorimer up in an +inebriate asylum; but Beatrix opposed the idea. She was so excited about +it that the doctor finally took sides with her, and said that she and +Lorimer would better not be separated, at least, not until something +else comes up. Do you grasp the pleasant state of things? Lorimer is to +be left with her till something does come up; when the something does +come, it may kill her. That's what they call an alternative, I suppose." + +"But the Adirondacks?" Thayer reminded him. It was unlike Bobby Dane to +go off like this into conversational blind alleys. Thayer, as he +listened and looked at his friend's haggard face, realized suddenly that +Bobby was far less superficial than was generally supposed. + +"The doctor ordered them both out of town. It is the only way to keep +Lorimer out of mischief, get him into the wilderness to live on venison +and bromides. We chose the Adirondacks because it was near and safe, and +because we could tell people that Beatrix needed the air. Of course, +they'll know we are lying; but we may as well lie valiantly and +plausibly, while we are about it." + +"When do they go?" + +"Monday." + +"Who goes?" + +"They hire a cottage, and take enough servants to run it. Then there +will be a man for Lorimer. The doctor insisted upon that." + +"Who else?" + +"Beatrix and Lorimer." + +"And Mrs. Dane?" + +"No; no one else." + +"You don't mean that Mrs. Lorimer is going up into that wilderness +alone?" + +"Alone with her liege lord," Bobby said bitterly. + +"But she mustn't. It's not safe." + +"Who can go? Mrs. Dane is not strong; she would only be an extra care +for Beatrix." + +"Mr. Dane, then." + +"He's no use. I would go, myself; but I can't well get off. Besides, +Lorimer hates me, and my being there would only make it harder for +Beatrix. Do you really think she ought to have someone?" Bobby's voice +was anxious. + +"For nine days, no; for the tenth, yes," Thayer said decidedly. "We both +know that, some time or other, Lorimer is bound to go on another spree. +No; there's no use in being too hard on him. The time has passed, if it +ever existed, when he was as responsible as you would be, or I. It's in +his blood, and he has lost all his nerve to fight it out. But, when that +spree comes, if it comes while they are up there, Mrs. Lorimer must have +someone to stand back of her. Who is there?" + +Bobby shook his head. + +"I don't know," he confessed. "I would go, if I could; but I can't." + +There was a long silence between the two men. Thayer, sitting at his +desk, was absently measuring his blotting pad with a letter, so many +envelopes' length this way, so many that. The letter was from the +impresario, reminding him that his decision was due, that night, and +urging him to accept the offer. At length, Thayer turned around away +from the desk, and faced Bobby. + +"Is there a hotel near there?" he asked. + +"Half a mile away." + +"Open at this season?" + +"Yes, there are always cranks and consumptives, you know." + +Thayer faced back again and measured the blotter anew. Then he tossed +the letter aside and, rising, walked across to the mantel. + +"I think I'll go up there for a little while," he said briefly. + +"Thayer! You can't." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you mustn't. It's impossible." + +Thayer mistook his meaning. + +"I can't see the impossibility, Dane. Lorimer was--is my friend. I knew +him long before I ever heard of Mrs. Lorimer. I was their guest at +Monomoy for a month, last summer, too. We both of us know that I can +hold Lorimer, when nobody else can. I don't pretend to understand it, +myself; but the fact remains. All in all, I think I am the best possible +person to go." + +His voice was quiet, yet its every accent was final and uncompromising. +Before its dignity, Bobby felt like a rebuked child. He hastened to +justify himself. + +"I wasn't thinking of that at all, Thayer. The idea would have been an +insult both to you and to Beatrix. I know that Beatrix feels she can +rely on you to manage Lorimer; but nevertheless it is absolutely out of +the question for you to go." + +"Why?" + +"Your engagements for the winter." + +"I have made no engagements yet." + +"Is that a fact?" + +"As a general rule, I tell the truth," Thayer answered dryly. + +"Well, you are sure to make some." + +"Perhaps. When I do, it will be time enough for me to keep them." + +"But your reputation!" Bobby urged. + +"What of it?" + +"How is it going to stand your burying yourself in the wilderness, just +when you have the city at your feet?" + +"It will have to stand it. It will, if it is worth anything at all." + +"Thayer, you sha'n't!" Bobby protested. "It's Quixotic and idiotic. You +sha'n't spoil your own good life for the sake of Lorimer's bad one. He +isn't worth it." + +Thayer straightened his shoulders and threw back his head. + +"What about Mrs. Lorimer?" he asked steadily. + +The clock marked the passing seconds until hundreds of them had gone +away, never to return. Then Bobby crossed the room and laid his hand on +Thayer's shoulder. + +"Thayer," he said slowly; "you are a fool, an utterly asinine fool; but +I can't help wishing that there were a few more fools in the world just +like you." + +And in that instant, it flashed into Bobby Dane's mind that, ever since +he had first come to know Cotton Mather Thayer, he had been expecting +and awaiting just such a scene. + +Late that same afternoon, Miss Gannion's card was brought to Beatrix. +All that day, she had denied herself to callers; not even Sally Van +Osdel had been admitted. Ten minutes before Miss Gannion came, Beatrix +would have said that she too must be sent away; but, as she read the +name on the card, she felt a sudden impulsive longing to see her +old-time friend. + +Miss Gannion wasted no words on conventional greeting. + +"You dear child!" she said quietly. "I know a little about what has +happened; but it is all I need to know. Talk about it or not, just as +you choose." + +Urged or repressed, Beatrix would have held herself steady, reticent. +All day long, she had kept herself quiet, going through her usual +domestic routine, answering notes of invitation and then methodically +sorting out the clothing she would need during her absence from town. +She had refused her mother's help and she had sent away her maid; it was +a relief to her to keep busy. Left to herself and idle, the future +easily could have occupied her whole attention; but as yet she was not +strong enough to face it. Strange to say, there had been no benumbing +effect of her sorrow. From the first hour, she had been able to grasp +with dreary clearness all its details, all its effect upon the present +and upon the future which now to her was freighted with a double burden +of anxiety and alarm. + +All day long until late afternoon, she had forced this quiet upon +herself; but it could not go on indefinitely. Already the tug and wrench +upon her nerves was slackening, and Miss Gannion's words brought the +swift revulsion. The older woman shrank before the storm of passionate +sorrow. Then she braced herself to bear it, for she realized that it +was the flood which must inevitably follow the breaking down of the +dykes that for months had pent in the seas of a daily and hourly agony +such as a weaker soul than that of Beatrix could never know. + +It was long before Beatrix dared trust her voice to speak, and then Miss +Gannion was startled at the utter dreariness of her tone. + +"It has all been a horrible mistake," she said slowly. "I thought I was +stronger. I did believe that I could hold him, Miss Gannion. I didn't +rush into it carelessly, as most girls do. I knew all the danger. I +thought about it, and measured it against my strength and against the +strength of his love. I truly thought I could hold him." + +"I know, dear," Miss Gannion said gently. "I thought so, too." + +"But I couldn't. I did try, try my best. But it was no use. And yet, he +did love me, just as I did love him." + +"Did love?" Miss Gannion questioned, for Beatrix had paused, as if +challenging her. + +"Yes, did love. My love is dead, Miss Gannion." + +"But it may come back." + +"Never. It never can. He has killed it utterly. I am sorry. I don't +know why I am telling you, for no one else must know it, not even Sidney +himself. He doesn't suspect it at all now, and I mean that he never +shall. If I made the mistake in the first place, I ought to be the one +to suffer for it, not he." + +"But he loves you now," Miss Gannion said unsteadily. + +"To-day. Yesterday, he forgot me entirely; to-day, he cares for me just +as he always has done, no more, no less. I wish I could care for him; +but I can't. I feel perfectly cold, as if nothing more could ever warm +me." + +"But, in time--after you have forgotten last night--" + +Beatrix shook her head. + +"My love for Sidney did not die, last night. It was too strong, too much +alive, to be killed by the facts of one single night. No; it had been +ailing for months; but it finally died, six weeks ago, and nothing now +can ever make it live again. Miss Gannion, I have been very selfish." + +"I don't think so, Beatrix." + +But Beatrix gently drew herself out of Miss Gannion's arms, rose and +stood looking down at her friend. In that moment, confronted by +Beatrix's sad, calm face and luminous eyes, the little gray-haired +woman suddenly realized that, notwithstanding the difference in their +years, Beatrix was looking into mysteries which were far beyond her ken. + +"Yes, I was selfish," Beatrix went on steadily. "I loved Sidney; I was +happy in his love, and I believed that, through both our loves, I could +be strong enough to save him from himself. I knew it was a risk, a +terrible risk, but I took it for granted that the risk would come only +on myself, and, for both our sakes, I was willing to assume it. I was +nothing but a child, for all I felt so wise, and I stopped there, +without looking ahead. I was wrong, woefully, sinfully wrong. I was +selfish, for I thought of nothing beyond myself. Now that it is too +late, I am beginning to realize what it all may mean to the next +generation." + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + + + "_O the long and dreary Winter! + O the cold and cruel Winter!_" + +Thayer's voice was wonderfully rich and mellow, as he stood at the +window softly singing over to himself that haunting, tragic Famine Theme +from _The Death of Minnehaha_. Fresh from its weeks of resting, low, yet +suggesting an immeasurable reserve power, it had all its old throbbing +magnetism; but a new quality had been added to it. It had always had +moments of passionate appeal; now it had gained a sadness, a depth of +melancholy which in the past it had been powerless to express. A year +before, Thayer could strike the tragic note, never the pathetic. + +Nevertheless, the pathos was apparently merely a matter of the vocal +cords. The tall, alert, well-groomed man who stood at the snow-veiled +window in no way suggested being a candidate for sympathy. His eyes were +clear, his brows unfurrowed. Moreover, one could never dream of +condoling with the owner of such a voice. Taken quite by itself, its +possession would outweigh an almost infinite number of human woes. + + "_Ever thicker, thicker, thicker + Froze the ice on lake and river, + Ever deeper, deeper, deeper + Fell the snow_--" + +_Hiawatha's_ wigwam might well have been just beyond the spruce thicket, +Thayer reflected. The description was too accurate to be artistic; it +amounted to mere photography. As far as his own eyes could see, the +earth lay buried in a deep, soft blanket of snow, and the air above was +misty with flakes which neither fell nor scurried before the wind, but +hung apparently motionless in the still, cold air. All through the +preceding night, however, the wind had blown fiercely. The snow lay +heaped in heavy, irregular drifts across the open plain; but under the +trees it was rolled up into soft waves whose tops curled over as +daintily as the waves had curled over on the moonlit beach of Monomoy. +The lake was frozen over and snow-covered; but the creek that came +rushing down to meet it was too swift to be overtaken by the frost, and +it showed, an inky-dark, sinuous line of open water, winding away and +away among the trees, now losing itself in a thicket of alders, now +drawing a straight black mark across an open stretch of meadow where the +frost-flowers on its banks offered a delicate substitute for their +summer kin. + +Half a mile away to the south, the mountain rose abruptly, its face of +sheer rock making a dark scar on the winter landscape, a scar crossed +with long white bands and bars of ice which, glacier-wise, were creeping +over the edge of the cliff as if seeking to veil its sinister face. +Against the base of the mountain, close to the inky creek, another patch +of darkness stood out in bold relief. This patch was the Lorimers' +cottage. + +In spite of the haunting melancholy of his song, Thayer looked out at +the cottage and at the storm with a feeling of supreme content. Lorimer +hated storms with a catlike fervor; it was an old-time peculiarity of +his, dating from their student days in Göttingen. There was no +likelihood of his leaving the cottage, that day; and, inside the cottage +with his man to look out for him, Thayer felt that he was beyond the +possibility of danger. It was seven weeks since they had buried +themselves in that wilderness, seven weeks that Thayer had voluntarily +kept himself under the daily and hourly strain of constant intimate +association with the woman he loved, of knowing that she gained +strength and courage from her reliance upon him, and of forcing himself +to treat her with an offhand good-fellowship which defied analysis for +the mere reason that it challenged none. + +A weaker man than Thayer would have yielded to the strain, or else have +grown fretful under its chafing. Thayer did neither. He felt the +chafing, galling burden which he bore; but he kept the scars out of +sight of others, and moreover, he conscientiously refrained from looking +at them, himself. Self-pity is the surest, yet the most insidious foe to +self-poise. When the original Cotton Mather Thayer had stuck a splinter +of wood into the palm of his hand, he had pulled out the splinter with +his teeth and then, punching his hand into his pocket, he had continued +his discussion of the latest election to the General Court. His namesake +was proving himself true to the traditions of his blood. + +Twice only had Thayer sought outlet for his mood. Twice the almost +deserted hotel had vibrated with such singing as it was destined never +to have heard, before or since. The piano was passable and, shut up +alone in the barren parlor, Thayer had sung to the empty chairs as he +had never yet sung to any crowded audience. Out in the halls, the +people of the house gathered in listening, whispering groups; but Thayer +never heeded them. It is not certain that, heeding, he would have cared. +Relief he must have at any cost, and this was the one means at his +command. His own voice, laden with passionate sadness, came echoing back +to him from the unresponsive walls, and in time the echo checked his +outcry. It taught him anew the lesson which already he had conned again +and again, the lesson that his bitterest plaint fell on no one else's +ears with half the compelling fervor with which it reached his own, that +his cry for help came beaten back to the one person who could help him, +that was--himself. But at least, there was some relief in having made +his cry. + +He had never allowed himself to regret his answer to the impresario. Day +by day, he realized more and more keenly that his presence there was +imperative. Beatrix seemed to him far from well. Her nerves had been +less steady since the shock of that last supper in New York; she was +totally unable to adjust herself to Lorimer's swift alternations of +mood, his hours of demonstrative affection, his times of black +depression and irritability. Thayer saw that she did her best, that she +bravely sought to play a loyal part in the work of reformation. The +failure was in no sense that of will, but of mere nervous strength. But +there were hours and hours when Thayer stood between them, trying by his +sympathy for Lorimer to atone for Beatrix's coldness, trying by his +chivalry to Beatrix to make amends for the fractiousness of Lorimer. + +There were hours when he mourned acutely for his work. They invariably +followed upon the heels of a letter from Arlt and they invariably ended +in his going to the cottage and dragging Lorimer out for a tramp in the +stinging air. The doctor had ordered much exercise, and Lorimer, who +refused to go beyond his door in the society of his man, made long +expeditions at Thayer's side, returning weary of body, but of placid +mood and healthy appetite, to spend a short evening and a long and +restful night. + +The day before, they had been out since early morning. The deep-packed +snow had lain, hard and solid and tempting, and the sun glittered coldly +back into the windless air. Lorimer had been in high spirits. One of his +old gay, infectious moods was upon him, and, for the passing hour, +Thayer let himself yield to it until he forgot Beatrix, forgot the +tragedy which overhung them all, forgot even the number of miles they +had come. At noon, they had found a wood-choppers' camp and, sitting +around the blazing fire, they had mingled their daintily-packed lunch +with the cruder fare of their temporary hosts. Lorimer had been the life +of the party, and the good-bys had been spoken with real regret. At the +top of the hill above the camp, Lorimer had turned back again to wave +his cap in boyish farewell. Then the episode had ended, ended more +completely than Thayer as yet could realize. + +Lorimer's mood changed on the way home. He grumbled about the softening +snow, about the gathering dusk, about the length of the road. His +exasperation reached its height when, ignoring Thayer's advice in regard +to the path, he struck out across an open snowfield, only to go crashing +down through its insecure foundation of baby spruces whose lusty little +branches bore up the snow like myriad arms. When Lorimer emerged from +the shallow caverns beneath, his temper was of the blackest, and, all +the rest of the way home, he had stalked along in gloomy silence, ten +feet in the rear of his companion's heels. + +Thayer had judged that it would he well to invite himself to stay to +dinner at the cottage. Lorimer had been in one of his worst moods, and +even Thayer had found it wellnigh impossible to keep the talk brisk and +amicable. He had remained until he had seen that Lorimer was at last +yielding to the inevitable drowsiness of his long day in the open air; +then he had started back to the hotel. Once outside the cottage, +however, he had squared his shoulders and drawn a deep breath of relief. +He needed mental ozone; but even physical ozone was better than mental +nitrous oxide. + +And now he was standing at the snow-veiled window, looking across at the +cottage while he hummed to himself the recurring, haunting Famine +Theme,-- + + "_O the famine and the fever! + O the wasting of the famine! + O the blasting of the fever!_" + +He had no notion of the truth of his words. Had he done so, the cottage, +not the hotel, would have held him, that day, and the tragedy, so long +averted, might have been warded off a little longer. But fate willed +otherwise. To Thayer's mind, Lorimer, storm-bound and weary from his +tramp of the day before, would spend the day, drowsing, novel in hand, +before the open fire. Thayer, in his own absolute integrity, could never +imagine the truth: that Lorimer's trusty attendant had at last yielded +to the temptation of the oft-repeated bribe and had given into Lorimer's +hands the bottle from which he was used to measure out, medicine-wise, +the daily lessening allowance of brandy. He could not know how often, +all that day, Beatrix went to the window and looked out across the storm +in the hope of seeing him come striding to her through the snow. Had it +been possible, she would have sent for him; but it was a day when women +are safest inside a house, and she dared not remove either Lorimer's man +or the old butler from their close guard over her husband. She had been +utterly opposed to bringing the faithful old butler with them; but now +she was glad that she had yielded to his begging. He had been with her +father since her childhood, and had insisted upon following "Miss +Beatrix" into her new home. Without him now, she would have been +absolutely, hopelessly alone. + +Thayer spent a quiet, contented day. For the time being, he had +dismissed Lorimer from his mind, and he gave himself up to the luxury of +taking thought for no one but himself. The sensation was very luxurious +from its very novelty. He wrote a long letter to Arlt, responded to a +dozen notes of invitation which had pursued him from the city, loitered +about the office and ended the day with a novel which had reached him +when the mail came in, that noon. It was still early when he went to +bed. As he drew the shades, from sheer force of habit he glanced across +at the cottage. Its lights were burning brightly, their quiet steadiness +giving no hint of the hideous carnival within. + +No healthy man can go to bed, two hours before his usual time, and +expect to sleep peacefully till dawn. At four o'clock, Thayer waked +suddenly, with the firm belief that his slumber must have reached quite +around the clock. He struck a match and looked at his watch. + +Restlessly he rose and began to walk up and down the room. The storm had +increased during the night. He could hear the snow sifting against the +windows and, far off at a distant corner of the house, a loosened blind +was beating to and fro in the wind. The sound echoed drearily through +the almost deserted barracks, and added infinitely to the loneliness of +the wilderness, and of the night, and of the storm. + +Thayer paused at the window, raised the shade and peered out into the +night. At first, he could see only the darkness, no longer black, but +gray with the swirling snow. The ceaseless, pitiless fall of the flakes +fascinated him, and he stood long, watching them take shape in the +distance, come whirling against the glass and slide aimlessly down the +pane, as so many had fallen before them. Then, as the storm lost +something of its fury, he glanced up and out across the night. The next +instant, his face was pressed against the pane, while his clasped +fingers shielded his eyes from the light within the room. In the +Lorimers' cottage, half a mile away, the lights were still burning. On +such a night and at such an hour, those lights meant trouble: illness, +or perhaps something infinitely worse. + +He had stood at the window longer than he had realized, and the clock in +the office struck five as Thayer, fully dressed, stepped out into the +hall. With the waning of the night, the storm was increasing again and, +strong man as he was, Thayer faltered as he opened the door and went out +into the darkness. + +Four times he tried to beat his way against the wind, to force a path +through the wet, heavy drifts. Four times, buffeted and almost spent, he +was driven back to the shelter of the veranda. The office clock struck +six, as he went inside the house to find a shivering servant sweeping +out the office. + +"Get me some snowshoes," he ordered briefly. "The lights have burned all +night in Mr. Lorimer's cottage; I am afraid they may be ill and in need +of help. I thought I could get to them; but in this storm it is +impossible, unless I can have some shoes." + +By some trick of the brain, anxious and impatient as he was, the Famine +Theme recurred to his mind, and the servant, coming back with the shoes, +found him singing it softly to himself. The words died away into +inarticulate humming, as Thayer bent over to fasten the straps. Then, +buttoning his coat closely and pulling his cap down over his eyes, +Thayer opened the door for the second time and went striding away across +the gray, tempestuous darkness which had shut down again impenetrably +between himself and those steady, ominous lights. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + + +"It has all been a hideous mistake!" + +Abruptly, defiantly Beatrix threw out the words at Thayer, as he +entered. Then her head dropped on her arms which rested on the table +before her. + +Breathless from his struggle with the storm and astounded at her +greeting, Thayer halted just across the threshold and looked at her in +silence. The silence grew irksome to her. She changed the form of her +words. + +"I couldn't help it. I have tried." The defiance in her voice suddenly +gave place to desperation. She pushed back her chair, rose and crossed +the room to the fire. There she turned and stood facing Thayer, her head +erect, her cheeks scarlet, her hands, palms downward, tightly clasped. +"I have tried my best and failed. It is a total, absolute failure," she +went on fiercely. "I know it, and you know it, too. You have watched it +coming on, growing and overpowering me. We may as well admit it; I made +a mistake when I married Sidney Lorimer." + +Thayer met her eyes steadily, rallying all his forces to face her in +this new mood. This sudden change in her baffled his powers of +comprehension. Weakened and torn and shaken by her endless hours alone +in the whistling, roaring storm, listening moment by moment to the +hideous noises of delirium coming from the next room, the level nerves +of Beatrix had at last given way completely. The noises had stopped now, +and an ominous stillness lay over the room; but in Beatrix's ears they +still were ringing, beating a terrible accompaniment to the crowding +measures of her thoughts. Hour after hour as she had sat alone, her +fingers in her ears, her eyes fixed on the snow-draped landscape outside +the window, her mind had worked ceaselessly, arbitrarily. For the time +being, she had felt herself unable to control the direction of her +thoughts, and the direction had been fraught with danger. + +She went back to her first meeting with Lorimer. She went over each +detail of their friendship and of their married life. She tried in vain +to connect the genial, fascinating man she had first known with the man +whose ravings found their way under her fingers pressed against her +ears. She recalled his old-time devotion and chivalry; she contrasted it +with his moodiness and the brutal petulance which of late had marked +his manner to her. At no one point had there been a sudden change in +him. The transition had been slow, insidious. At last she had wakened to +it in all its bald reality. + +Now and then she rose and went to the window in the hope of seeing +Thayer's familiar figure coming towards her through the storm. Each time +she did so, her thoughts lingered a little upon him, upon his power to +hold Lorimer, upon his constant thoughtfulness for her. Each time she +thought of him, her mind rested there longer, until she found herself +going over their acquaintance much as, a few hours earlier, she had gone +over her life with Lorimer. Then, all at once, she dropped her head on +the table with a little moan. Her will was powerless longer to blind her +to the truth. Her loyalty to Lorimer, her traditions, her training had +made her fight for months, a fight no less bitter because it was +subconscious. Now her fighting strength was gone. The truth had asserted +itself at the instant when her nervous force was at its weakest. It had +asserted itself, and it had mastered her. + +She was still in the passive stage of defeat, when Thayer entered the +room, hours later. Struggling to her through the storm, he had been +urged on by a fierce passion of anxiety for the woman he loved. A +strange fire had flashed up within him, and, had he found Beatrix in her +usual mood, he might have lost his power to quench it. Met by a passion +equal to his own, he instinctively pulled himself together. Two such +storms must inevitably have landed them upon hidden rocks and wrecked +them pitilessly and in mid-career. He realized the danger. It took all +his manhood to face it; but two lives were trembling in the balance, +with nothing but his own past character and half of his inherited +tendencies to act as a fulcrum. + +"I am afraid I don't quite understand you," he said. + +"Then what are you doing here?" she returned sharply. + +Thayer faltered. Then,-- + +"I thought perhaps you might be in need of help," he said quietly. + +Her lip curled, and her slender wrists grew tense with the strain upon +them. + +"For what? John and Patrick can take care of my husband. Mr. Lorimer +is--very ill; but we are quite capable of taking care of him. Why should +I need help?" She watched him in silent hostility. Then, as she saw the +sudden drawing of his lips, her mood changed. This was her friend, the +only friend who was near her and loyal to her. She must not hurt him +with her bitterness, lest he too should fail her, just as Lorimer +already had done. For months, she had unconsciously depended upon his +loyalty. Now she sought it consciously. "What is the use of keeping up +the pretence any longer?" she went on drearily. "You have been with us +day after day; you know how things are going; you know how my husband +has--that he has not always been himself." Even in her desperation, she +still chose her words guardedly. "Do you think I ever could have held +him?" + +Slowly Thayer shook his head. + +"No," he said in a low voice. "No; you never could have held him. It was +impossible." + +"Then why didn't you warn me?" she burst out hotly. + +He looked her straight in the eye. + +"How could I?" + +Her face flushed with the sudden understanding. Then the old dreary note +came back into her voice. + +"And you have known from the first that it was all a mistake?" + +"Yes." + +"And you have let me suffer for it?" + +"You are not the only one," he said, almost involuntarily. + +Their eyes met, held each other, then dropped apart. Thayer drew a long, +slow breath. + +"Mrs. Lorimer--Beatrix--" + +She checked him with a gesture. + +"Wait! You don't know it all, you can't know. You never knew Sidney +Lorimer as I did, for my Sidney Lorimer never really existed. I +idealized him, half-deified him. The Sidney Lorimer to whom I gave my +love, my very life, was one man; the Sidney Lorimer I married was quite +another. A woman can't love two men totally unlike each other, and yet I +am bound to him, bound down to the day of my death, or of his. We both +come of a long-lived race, and this must go on for years. I have tried +to prevent it, this gradual change in him; but it was impossible. Then I +tried not to see it; but I had to see it. It insisted on itself and on +being seen. I have been watching it, dreading the time when I must admit +it in so many words. I have tried to be loyal to him, God knows!" She +spoke rapidly. Then she checked herself, and the dreary note came again. +"But what is done, is done. I loved one man; I am married to another. +Nothing now can bring back to me the man I used to know, the man I used +to imagine him. Then what will the future amount to? We shall go on +together to the end, two prisoners bound by a chain which only holds us +the tighter and galls us the more, the looser it grows between us. One +doesn't mind the dying; it's the limitless, unchanging years ahead, the +black, blank years that frighten me. How can I escape them?" + +In presence of a woman's passionate pain, every man must stand back, +baffled and powerless to help. Thayer had supposed he understood Beatrix +Lorimer as no other man had ever understood her. To his eyes, her +character seemed crystal clear; yet now, in her supreme crisis, the +crystal grew cloudy before his eyes. For long hours, she had gone into +the deep places of her life, had stirred up from its very source the +spring of her being, and the superficial clearness had grown turgid with +the dregs that had lain undisturbed and unsuspected there. Hatred and +black despair were boiling in the heart which Thayer had thought so calm +and cool, so peaceful in its dainty whiteness. Before it, he stood +silent. Was this the true Beatrix Lorimer? The woman he had fancied her +was a spotless white lily. The heart of this one was banded with bars +of flame and gold. The other grew colorless and cold by comparison, and +his hands twitched to pluck this fiery, vivid thing before him and carry +it away out of reach of Lorimer's sodden, defiling touch. What had +Sidney Lorimer, drunkard, profligate that he was, to do with this +high-bred, high-spirited, heart-broken woman? Why not rather he, Cotton +Mather Thayer--He thrust his hands into his pockets and lowered his eyes +to hide the light burning in them. + +It seemed to him hours since he had entered the house. In reality, the +time was short. As he had crossed the threshold, Beatrix had raised her +head and looked at him dully. Then her reaction had come. Like the ebb +and flow of the waves, excitement had followed apathy; and, as she had +met his eyes, the wave had risen again and swept her away upon its +tossing crest. Thayer was here at last. He never forgot her, never +forsook her. He had come to her in this moment of her bitterest need, +even as he had come to her many a time in the past. With him, there +could be no need for explanation or preface. Straight from the heart of +her reverie, Beatrix Lorimer had cast her words at him,-- + +"It has all been a hideous mistake!" + +And now she was following them up with the question which, in Thayer's +ears, sounded the dominant note of the temptation that had been pursuing +him during all those months of rigid self-restraint,-- + +"The black, blank years, how can I escape them?" + +For the second time in his life, Thayer grew dizzy with the tingle of +his nerves answering to the shock to his brain. The blood was pounding +across his temples, and his ears rang loudly. Then he lifted his eyes +deliberately and looked Beatrix full in the face. For an instant, he +held her eyes; then she drew away from him. This was not the quiet, +self-contained man upon whom she had leaned for months. This man's eyes +were glowing, his lips quivering, his hands outstretched to meet her +own. No need to tell her what flame had kindled him into such fierce and +burning life. Their eyes met. She drew away; but her glance never +wavered. Without a spoken word, they had come to the pitiless, naked +truth. Wish had answered to wish, and henceforth there could be no +concealments between them. She took a step forward, and for a moment her +fingers rested in the hot hollow of his hand. + +It was only for a moment. However, for Thayer that moment had sufficed +to review a lifetime, to dwell in detail, even, upon the events of the +last fourteen months. In the past, he had done his best to bear himself +as an honest man and a gentleman; and, seen in the light of that past, +the future turned to ashes before him. At best, it was void of honor; at +worst, it was unthinkable. It had not been easy for him to swim against +the tide, to strive, at the expense of his own plans, to rescue Lorimer +from drunkenness and shame. At least, now that for so long a time he had +succeeded in keeping his head above water, he would not wilfully cast +himself upon the first jagged rock in his course. He would not save +Lorimer's honor for the sake of Lorimer's wife, and then deliberately +seek to bring dishonor and shame upon the wife herself. He veiled his +eyes and let his palm drop out from under the pressure of the cold +little fingers. + +"It's not necessarily a question of years," he said, after a silence in +which it seemed to him that she must be able to count his heart-throbs. +"Dane told me what the doctor said. He hopes this place will work a +complete cure, and it may not be long before your husband pulls himself +together again." + +He had turned a little away from her; but he knew she was still looking +at him. He could feel the pathetic appeal in her eyes, yet he never +wavered. However brutal he might seem to her now, he knew that the hour +would come when she would be grateful to him. + +With an effort, she steadied herself. + +"I am afraid it is impossible. He has gone too far; the pull now is all +downward." + +"What about your hold on him?" Thayer asked quietly. + +Beatrix started, as if he had laid a clumsy thumb on an exposed nerve. + +"My hold!" she said, with a sudden fierceness. "Do you think that there +is no limit to the help which I must give him?" Then her voice dropped. +"No; I have let go. It is no use. I have done all I can, and now I can +only wait till the play is over and the curtain drops. Perhaps it may +not be so very long, after all. It spoils any tragedy, if the last acts +drag." + +He had been fired by her passion; but he had resisted it. Now her +despair unmanned him. It was only the old, old situation: the guiltless +one must suffer for the guilty. The fact in general terms he accepted as +a necessary evil; the particular instance was unbearable. Once more, and +for the last time, the balance wavered; then slowly, steadily it dipped +into position. The tragedy would be no less a tragedy, because a new +hero took the stage for the final acts. He tried to find words to say; +but they refused to come at his bidding. He could only stand mute and +look down at her, as she sat in her old place by the table, with her +head buried in her arms. + +The seconds passed and lengthened into minutes. Little by little, the +cold, gray light of the snowy morning was creeping into the room, +dimming the lamplight to pale yellow streaks and filling the place with +a chill, forbidding gloom. The stillness was so absolute that Thayer +could hear his watch ticking in his pocket, could hear the beating of +his own heart. Neither one of them moved, or spoke. In the next room, +there was a faint sound; but they never heeded it. Beatrix's face was +hidden in her arms; Thayer's eyes, turned now to the window, were fixed +upon the pitiless storm outside, while mechanically he sought to adjust +the regular ticking of his watch to the broken rhythm of the Famine +Theme which once more was haunting his brain. + +Neither one of them faced the open door; neither one of them saw the +crawling, slinking figure, the pale, fear-stricken face, and the staring +eyes which appeared in the doorway, clung there for a moment and then +vanished again as noiselessly as they had come. Neither of them, had +they seen, could have imagined the fearful interpretation which the +delirium-stricken brain had put upon the silent scene. + +The stir in the next room came again. Then it increased until the +cottage echoed with the tumult of struggle and of inarticulate crying. +Above it all, Lorimer's maddened voice rang out in piteous terror,-- + +"Let me go! I saw him! It's Thayer, and he will kill Beatrix! She is +afraid of him, and she is begging for mercy! He is killing my wife, my +Beatrix! Let me go! Beatrix! Beatrix! Dear girl, I'm coming!" + +Beatrix sprang to her feet, as Thayer rushed to the inner room where the +words had ended in a fury of inarticulate shrieks. There was the sound +of a heavy struggle, when it seemed to her that the cottage rocked with +the rocking, writhing bodies of the men just beyond her sight. She dared +not face the scene in all its horror. She stood, erect and alone, in the +middle of the floor, while the struggle slowly died away and the shrieks +sank to the piteous low whimpering of an animal in pain. Then all was +still. + +Weak by inheritance, weaker still by dissipation, Lorimer's heart had +yielded to the shock of his imaginary fear; but the last coherent +thought of his distracted brain had been that of protecting love for +Beatrix. + +In the gray, cold light, through the silent cottage, the old butler came +to Beatrix's side and gently touched her arm. + +"It is over, Miss Beatrix," he said gravely; "and may the good God be +pitiful to us all!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + + +It was mid-afternoon when Thayer once more entered the hotel. The +proprietor met him at the door. + +"This message was just telephoned in, Mr. Thayer. The boy is getting +ready to carry it to the cottage." + +Thayer tore open the envelope indifferently. Exhausted by the struggle +and the shock through which he had been passing, for the time being he +felt little interest in any word which could come to him from the +outside world. His entire life seemed to him limited to one short hour +in one small room, apart from the world and its concerns. That brief +episode was too recent and too personal to allow him at once to cast off +its impression. In his present mood, it appeared to be the focal point +of his entire life, the arena upon which the two warring strains in his +blood had met to fight to a finish. The fight had been sharp and fierce; +already he was beginning to rejoice that the Puritan had conquered the +Slav. Beyond that point, as yet, he was powerless to go. Later, his +rejoicing would be increased by the knowledge that in his own words and +deeds he had never swerved from a certain loyalty towards Lorimer. + +"Mr. Lorimer is--" the proprietor was beginning vaguely. + +Thayer's nod was more curt than he realized. + +"Mr. Lorimer is dead." + +"You don't mean it! When?" The man was visibly startled. + +"This morning, between seven and eight o'clock." + +"It must have been very sudden?" The accent was plainly interrogative. + +"Yes, at the last. He had been quite ill for twenty-four hours. He was +overtired with his walk of the day before, and then ate something that +disagreed with him. He suffered terribly, and, at the last, heart +failure developed." Thayer ended his fable with a deep breath of relief. + +"But they had no doctor," the man objected. + +Thayer raised his eyes and looked at him steadily for an instant. + +"No," he said quietly. "Mr. Lorimer has had a number of such attacks, +and Mrs. Lorimer had all the proper remedies. Until within a few +moments of the end, there was no indication that this attack was any +more serious than the others had been, and there had never before been +any tendency to heart failure." He paused for a moment, deliberately +challenging another question. Then he added, "If your telephone is not +in use, I must send word to Mrs. Lorimer's friends." And he walked away +to the telephone closet in the corner of the office. + +He called up three numbers in New York. The first one was Mr. Dane's +office, and to him Thayer announced the bare fact of Lorimer's death and +of Beatrix's need for her parents. His talk with Bobby Dane was longer, +and at intervals it became interjectional in its terseness. To Bobby, +Thayer went over the story in all its detail, yet in such guarded +phrases that no one else, listening, could have gained an inkling of the +true cause of Lorimer's death. After the first shock was over, Thayer +and Beatrix had discussed the matter fully and in all its bearings. The +attendant had his own reasons for wishing to keep the secret, and the +butler could be relied upon implicitly. Accordingly, they had decided +that there was no need of acquainting the world with the true version of +the case, and they had agreed that Bobby should be the one person to be +put in possession of all the facts. He was just; he had no sentimental +ideals to be dispelled in regard to Lorimer, and he was utterly +trustworthy. + +Thayer's third message was the shortest of all. + +"Not in? Very well. I am Mr. Thayer. Tell him that I will be in his +office at ten o'clock on Saturday morning." + +It was then late on Thursday afternoon. Thayer had calculated that the +Danes would come in, the next day, and that the sleigh which brought +them in would also carry him out in season for the night train to New +York. There was another illness in the opera company. _Faust_ was to be +sung on the following Wednesday night, and Thayer, in sending that last +message, had given his tacit consent to singing the part of _Valentine_. +Even in the midst of his trouble, he smiled grimly to himself, as he +thought back to that far-off night in Berlin when the chord which closes +_Valentine's_ cavatina also closed his long indecision and left him +sitting with his face definitely turned towards the artist's life. It +had seemed to him then that the decision was threatening to undermine +his Puritanism; nevertheless, he had temporized with that Puritanism. In +resolving to become an artist, in so far as the possibility of art lay +in his keeping, he had likewise resolved to hold himself a man, virile +and of steady nerve. To his young enthusiasm, the two ideals had not +seemed incompatible. To his maturer judgment, they had appeared in no +sense to be at war, yet together they had been by no means easy of +attainment. All in all, he had preferred to leave to the recording angel +the balancing of his psychological accounts. He had lacked the time and +the perspective to do it for himself. But, meanwhile, he believed he +recognized the hand of fate in this second summons to sing the part of +_Valentine_. Fate and his old _maestro_ both had declared themselves for +opera. Their united will should be done. + +That evening was the longest he had ever spent, so long that in reality +it lasted until the gray dawn. The eastern sky was tinging itself with +yellow when he roused himself from the reverie which had held him since +he had left the dinner table. Rising to his feet, he drew himself to the +full of his towering height and took a slow, full breath. Then +deliberately he pushed his trunk into the middle of the floor and began +packing it, with the quiet method which characterized all his personal +arrangements. At first, he worked in grim silence; then, by almost +imperceptible degrees, his face lighted and he fell to humming over to +himself the familiar song,-- + + _"Even bravest heart may swell + In the moment of farewell--"_ + +Little by little, the humming rose and filled the room, at first the one +phrase repeated over and over again; then all at once, deep and +resonant, Thayer's full voice came leaping out in the rich Italian +words,-- + + _"Lŕ sul campo nel dě della pugna, + Ah! si, Fra le file primiero saro."_ + +The past was already the past. "Blithe as a knight in his bridal array," +Thayer was echoing the call of his future destiny. Because he had won a +single battle, there was no reason he should lay down his arms. + + _"Careless what fate may befall me, + When Glory shall call me."_ + +He sang it boldly, joyously. He was not forgetful, only hopeful. He +would leave to the choice of fate the field in which his mastery should +lie. Master he would be at any cost. + + _"Careless what fate may befall me, + When Glory shall call me."_ + +For the last time, that little room was echoing with his voice. + +His own rooms in New York were echoing with the same song, when Bobby +Dane entered them, the next Saturday night. + +"Well, at least, you don't sound broken-hearted," he observed, as he +took off his coat. + +"The sight of you would go far to cure me, if I were," Thayer retorted. +His words were light; but his face and his grip on Bobby's two hands +contradicted his tone. + +"Glad of it," Bobby said flatly. "But tell me about Beatrix. How did the +poor girl stand it?" + +"Like herself," Thayer answered. "It was enough to shake the nerves of +the Winged Victory; but Mrs. Lorimer went through it like a heroine." + +"It was D.T.?" + +"Yes." + +"It was better that you kept the secret," Bobby said thoughtfully, as he +dropped into a chair by the piano. He sat silent for a moment while, +bending forward, he idly picked out the first few notes of the cavatina +on the lowest octave of the bass. Then he added, "I don't see how you +managed it, Thayer; but it is a good deed done. Was there any trouble +about the certificate?" + +"No. It was heart failure, true enough, and there was no need to go into +secondary causes." + +"I am glad the doctor was a man of sense. If he had been a martinet, it +would have been worse for us all. Of course, there is no telling how far +people will accept the story; but we may as well try to act as if it +were true." There was a pause. Then Bobby inquired, "Well, and now what +are you going to do next?" + +"_Valentine_ in _Faust_," Thayer replied briefly. + +"The deuce you are! When?" + +"Next Wednesday." + +Bobby's face fell. + +"Oh, I wanted you, myself, for that day. Isn't it rather sudden?" + +"So sudden that I didn't half realize it, till I found myself at +rehearsal, this morning. It is to be announced in to-morrow's papers, I +suppose. Not even Arlt knows it yet." + +Bobby meditated for the space of several seconds. + +"Thayer, I am delighted," he said then. "I was so afraid your stopping +now might mean a permanent break-up in your work. Now you are going into +your right field at last. You've been too large for oratorio; you fill +altogether too much space, and crowd out the chorus. You need a whole +stage to ramp around in. Moreover, if I have any idea what Gounod meant, +he had your voice in mind, when he created the part. Go in, and you are +sure to win; and not a soul in the city will be gladder of it than I." + +Thayers face softened. His life, successful as it was, had been +singularly barren of endearments, and Bobby's words touched him keenly. +Heretofore, only Arlt had manifested any personal interest in his +successes, and Arlt was a true German, chary of his words. Thayer held +out his hand to Bobby. + +"Thank you, Dane. I believe you," he said. + +There was a short silence. Then Thayer added suddenly,-- + +"What did you want of me for Wednesday?" + +Again Bobby's face clouded, and he laughed uneasily. + +"Something you can't and must not do, Thayer. I oughtn't to have spoken +of it." + +"What was it?" Then a new idea crossed Thayer's mind. "Something about +Lorimer?" + +"Yes, I may as well tell you. We have been telephoning back and forth, +all day. They'll be down, Monday night, and the funeral is to be on +Wednesday afternoon. Beatrix is leaving all the plans to my uncle; and +my aunt, who is a sentimental soul and has no idea of the real state of +the case, is insisting that the poor old chap shall be buried with all +manner of social honors. It is to be a real function, and she thought it +would be the most suitable thing in the world, if you were to sing at +the funeral. I knew you wouldn't enjoy doing it, all things considered; +but I couldn't say so to my uncle. All in all, it is a relief to have +this other affair knock it in the head." + +To Bobby, the pause was scarcely perceptible. To Thayer, it sufficed to +review the years between his meeting Lorimer in Göttingen and that last +gray dawn in the cottage. + +"But it doesn't," Thayer said then. + +"You don't mean--?" + +"I will sing. We rehearse in the morning, and I have nothing afterwards +until evening. What time is the service?" + +Bobby Dane's call left Thayer feeling once more at war with himself. +Worn out with the long strain of watching over Lorimer, exhausted with +the agony of that hour in the cottage, it had been a relief to him, now +that his work was ended, to throw himself wholly into the preparations +for _Faust_. The needed rehearsals and the inevitable details of +costuming had been sufficient to occupy his tired mind completely, and +he had held firmly to his resolve to forget the past two months. He had +been able to accomplish this only by getting a strong grip upon his own +mind and holding on tightly and steadily; but he had accomplished it. +Bobby left him with it all to do over again. In spite of himself, +Beatrix's desperate question for "the black, blank years," drowned the +familiar words of his cavatina and set themselves in their place,-- + + _"Even black, blank years shall pass."_ + +Impatiently he shut the piano and, sitting down at his desk, began +studying aloud the list of stage directions which outlined his acting; +but, in the intervals of turning a page, he asked himself over and over +again whether any other life could hold a grimmer contrast than the one +confronting him, that coming Wednesday afternoon and evening. + +Wednesday came at last. Thayer had left his card at the Lorimers' house, +the day before; but he had felt no surprise that Beatrix had refused to +see him. He caught no glimpse of her until the hour for the funeral, and +he felt that it was better so. For the present, their lives must lie in +different paths. + +As Bobby had predicted, Sidney Lorimer's funeral was a function. +Everything about it was above criticism, with the minor exception of +the manner in which Lorimer had met his end. Society, black-clothed and +sombre-faced, was present, partly from respect to the Danes, partly from +a real liking for Lorimer as they had known him at first, partly from +curiosity to see whether there were any foundation for the rumors which +already were flying abroad. The rumors embraced everything from +meningitis to suicide, everything except the truth. And meanwhile, the +Lorimers' rooms were transformed into a species of flower show, and, in +the midst of the flowers, Lorimer lay asleep, his cheek resting on his +hand, his lips curving into the old winning smile they knew so well. For +him, as for Thayer, the past was passed and done. For him, too, the +future might still be full of promise. Thayer, as he stood beside the +man who had been his old-time friend, admitted as much to himself, and +all at once the intoning of the solemn ritual ceased to jar upon his +ears. For Lorimer, as for himself, the fight was still on. The arena had +changed; that was all. Perhaps in the new battle, Lorimer would arm +himself with stronger weapons. + +Then the intoning stopped, and some one made a signal to Thayer. Simply +as a boy, and with a boyish tenderness, he sang the little hymn they +had chosen for him. Each man and woman who listened, felt gentler and +nobler for his song; but only Beatrix, shut decorously in the room +upstairs, away from her dead, realized that, for the passing hour, +Thayer had annulled the passion and the pain of those last weeks, and +had gone back again to the old, pitiful, protecting love which for years +had marked his attitude towards Lorimer. + +From Lorimer's funeral, society went home to rest and gossip and +exchange its sombre clothing for its most brilliant plumage. Nearly two +years before, society had taken Cotton Mather Thayer to its bosom. Now +it was making ready to burn much incense in his honor, and its first +step in the process was to make his opening night of opera one of the +most brilliant events of the winter. With this laudable end in view, the +house was packed, and the women present had drawn heavily upon their +reserve fund of brand-new gowns which they had been hoarding for the +final gayeties of the season. + +Thayer, with Arlt at his side, lingered idly in the wings, while the +audience listened with ill-concealed impatience to the melodious +bargaining between _Faust_ and _Mephistopheles_. Then the attention +quickened, as every bar of the Kermess chorus brought them nearer to +the moment for _Valentine's_ coming. + +Charm in hand, he came at last, and the applause, caught up to the +galleries and tossed back to the floor, echoed again and again through +the great opera house. He accepted it quietly, almost indifferently, and +stood waiting for the storm to die away, while his keen eyes, sweeping +the house, recognized here and there among the jewelled, bare-shouldered +women before him the faces of the black-gowned mourners to whom he had +sung in the afternoon. The sight brought Beatrix to his mind. He +wondered how she was passing the evening, whether, from under the +benumbing effects of the blow she had suffered, she were still sending a +thought, a hope for success in his direction. Unconsciously to himself, +his pulses were tingling and throbbing with the music, and the throb and +tingle brought back to him the memory of the pounding of his pulses, +that morning in the cottage, only a week before. He had almost yielded +to their sway; then he had rallied. He had gone through the shock of +Lorimer's death, through the hasty discussion of arrangements which had +followed, through the saying good-by, with a calmness that had steadied +Beatrix and had been a surprise, even to himself. It was more--He +roused himself abruptly to the consciousness that mechanically he had +been going through the scene with _Wagner_, and that the moment for his +cavatina had come. + +Instinctively he squared his shoulders and raised his eyes. As he did +so, he caught sight of Bobby Dane, and the sight recalled to him the +half-dismissed thought of Beatrix. During the one measure of +introduction, Beatrix and _Marguerite_, the cottage and the Kermess went +whirling together through Thayer's brain, turning and twisting, +intermingling and separating again like the visions of delirium. For +that one measure, his operatic fate was trembling in the balance. Then +the artist triumphed. Steady and clear, yet burdened with infinite +sadness, his voice rang out, filling the wide spaces of the great house, +filling the smallest heart within it with its throbbing, passionate +power. + + _"Yet the bravest heart may swell + In the moment of farewell."_ + +The house was rocking and ringing with applause, as the song died away; +but Thayer heard it with unheeding ears. His old destiny had fulfilled +itself. The chord which closed his cavatina had sealed his fame in +opera; but his fame was to him as ashes in his mouth. With that same +chord, he had wilfully bidden farewell, not to _Marguerite_, his sister, +but to Beatrix, the wife of his friend, Sidney Lorimer. And, as the +chord died away, with its death there also died his passionate love. Who +could foretell what its resurrection would be? Or when? Or where? + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + + +"Otto, how does it feel to be a celebrity?" Miss Gannion asked abruptly, +one afternoon in late May. + +The young German smiled. + +"How should I know?" + +"From experience, of course. Your artistic probation appears to be over. +Your winning the prize for the suite has settled it for all time, and +now I am doing my best to readjust myself to the idea that my boy friend +Otto is the new composer Arlt about whom the critics are waging inky +war." + +"What is the use?" he inquired, as he crossed the room and sat down at +the piano. + +"Because I really must begin to face the fact that you are destined to +be one of the immortals, and treat you with proper respect." Her tone +was full of lazy amusement and content. "Hereafter, I shall never dare +tell you when your necktie is askew, and as for training you in the +management of your cuffs!" She paused expressively, and they both +laughed. + +"It was a blow to me to find that reputation depends upon such things," +Arlt said, after a thoughtful pause. + +"Not reputation; success. The two things don't necessarily touch each +other. One is a matter of brains, the other of fashion." Her accent was +almost bitter. "You have deserved one; you are beginning to have the +other thrust upon you. How does it make you feel?" + +"As if I owed a great deal to you." + +The girlish pink flush rose in Miss Gannion's cheeks. + +"Thank you, dear boy. But really I have done nothing." + +Arlt turned his back to the piano and, clasping his hands over his +knees, spoke with simple gravity. + +"Miss Gannion, here in America, I have had three good friends, Mr. +Thayer, you, and Miss Van Osdel. Everybody knows what Mr. Thayer has +done to help me; I am the only one who knows about you and Miss Van +Osdel, and I know it better and better, the more I learn to understand +your American ways. It was not always easy for a woman in society to +accept as her friend a stranger musician without reputation and without +social backing, to acknowledge him in public and to insist that her +friends should acknowledge him. At first I took it as a matter of +course. I know better now, and I know that you and Miss Van Osdel must +have given up some things for the sake of helping me along." + +Miss Gannion paused, before she answered. + +"Otto," she said at length; "I am a lonely woman, and my life has been +broader for knowing you. I mean that _you_ in the plural, for there have +been a good many of you. Some have been successful, some have not; a few +have become famous, just as you are doing. Some of them have been sent +to me; some have come of their own accord. We have been close friends +for a while, and then they have gone on their ways. Every going has left +its scar. I was a woman, sitting still in my place by the fire; they +were marching with the procession, stopping only for a little while and +then going on out of my sight. It has made me feel so futile. But, of +them all, you are the only one who has suggested that the _vivandičre_ +may be a useful element on the march. It was all I could do, and I did +it. I am glad if it counted for anything." + +"Everything in this world counts but cipher, naught, or zero," Bobby +observed suddenly, as he came strolling into the room at Sally's side. +"You aren't a cipher, Miss Gannion. They're either evanescent or tubby, +according to whether you look at their moral or their physical +proportions. You don't fit either measurement. Therefore you aren't a +cipher. Therefore you count. How do, Arlt? No; don't get up from the +piano. You owe me a sonata, at least, to pay for the stunning headlines +I gave you, yesterday." + +"Was that your work, Bobby?" Sally asked, while she shook hands with +Arlt. "I thought it must have come from the bake-shop where they do all +the other pi. Did you see it, Miss Gannion? It reminded me of _A was an +Apple Pie: Arlt's Art Analyzed_. Properly, the second line should have +been: _By Bobby Bunkum_; but I suppose his ideas ran low, when he +reached that point." + +"I say, Arlt," Bobby suggested; "why don't you write a series of +articles on How to Get on in the World?" + +"They would only take one line: Know Miss Gannion and Miss Van Osdel," +Arlt retorted, with unwonted quickness. + +Bobby shook his head. + +"No go, Arlt. I've known them for years, known them intimately; and look +at me! I haven't budged an inch in the upward march. The fact is, I have +just budged downward. My new underling is a boy of seventy and afraid +of a draught, so in common humanity I have had to make over to him my +warm corner at the editorial board, and remove myself to the chilly +places below the salt. To be sure, it gives me extra good purchase on +the devil, as my present desk is just in his pathway to the Chief, and I +can smite him as he goes by." + +"Does he turn the other cheek?" Sally queried. "One lump, Miss Gannion. +I am still keeping up my Lenten penance, for I acquired the taste for +it, and I can't bring myself back to the old extravagant ways. Next +Lent, probably I shall mortify the flesh by taking two lumps." + +Bobby handed her the cup. + +"The other cheek," he answered. "Which do you mean? He's all cheek, all +over himself, and it offers itself, whichever way he turns. Have you +seen Thayer lately, Arlt?" + +"Yesterday afternoon. He came down to my room to rehearse the songs he +is to sing, next Saturday." + +"What is Saturday? You fellows are going ahead at such a rate that I +can't keep track of you, unless I have an engagement book for your +especial benefit." + +"Bobby!" Sally expostulated. "Mr. Arlt's suite is to be played, +Saturday, and Mr. Thayer is to be the soloist for the concert. You +oughtn't to have forgotten that, especially when you asked me to go with +you." + +"Oh, yes; I do remember now," Bobby replied serenely. "I knew I had some +duty on hand for Saturday, just when I wanted to run up to Englewood for +a little golf. What makes you do music in pleasant weather, Arlt? It's +mean to keep a fellow in-doors at this season." + +"It is our last appearance," Arlt answered. + +Bobby raised his brows in feigned terror. + +"Nothing mortal, I hope." + +"No. We are going abroad, early in June." + +"Just the other fellow's luck! I wish I were a genius, to go frisking +about Europe instead of inking my fingers at home." + +Arlt shook his head. + +"No frisking for us. We are going to study." + +With characteristic promptitude, Bobby dragged out his hobby, mounted it +and was off at a gallop. + +"That's always the way with you musicians! You work till you are tired +of it; then you go off and shirk, and call it studying. I used to think +you were the elect of the earth. Now I doubt it." + +"Have some more tea, Bobby," Miss Gannion suggested. + +Bobby waved her aside. + +"Am I a child, to be diverted with soothing drinks? Never! I must have +my cry out, Miss Gannion. You and Sally can be talking about the last +fashion in peignoirs, if you wish. I don't know what they are; but I did +a scarehead about them for the Sunday fashion page, last week. The woman +who generally sees to it had mumps, and I substituted. I thought I did +it superbly: _Death to Décolleté: Peignoirs Popular for Suburban +Suppers_. That was the way I did it, and I was sure she would be +pleased; but she cut me dead on the stairs, the first day she +convalesced enough to be out. Arlt, musicians are second-rate beings, at +best." + +"I am sorry. Perhaps you can suggest a remedy," Arlt replied literally. + +"Cast off your leading strings, and work out your own theories to suit +yourselves," Bobby answered unhesitatingly. "Now look here, I used to +think that it was greater to create music than to evolve literature; now +I know more, I know it isn't. When a man writes a book, he goes ahead +and does it according to the light of nature and the sense that is in +him. Sometimes it is good; mostly it isn't, but at least he has done it +out of himself and by himself. When you write a symphony, you do it out +of yourself, but not by yourself. You do it by the exact rules that +somebody else before you has laid down. You can have just so many themes +and so many episodes, though it would puzzle the _Concertmeister_ of the +heavenly choir to tell where the themes leave off and the episodes +begin. You know you have got those rules to hang on to, and they are a +great support in seasons of mental famine. Two themes and a subsidiary, +and a lot of episodes for padding: that's all you need, and they are +bound to come on in just a given order. Can you imagine a novelist +sitting down and fitting his work neatly into a box measured off into +compartments: one hero, one heroine, one extra, plus episodic sunsets +and moonbeams galore? Not much! He makes his rules as he goes along. +Sally, which is greater, to create a gown, or to cut it out by a paper +pattern?" + +"To cut it out, of course," Sally answered unexpectedly. "The patterns +never fit, and it is more work to bring them into the shape of any human +being than it is to start out with a free hand, in the first place." + +But Miss Gannion challenged her. + +"Sally, did you ever make a gown?" + +"Never; but that doesn't prevent my having theories," Sally replied +airily. + +"And I have had practice. I attempted once, when my years were less and +my zeal more, to clothe an orphan with the work of my own hands. I +thought I would operate free hand, as you call it, and I wish you could +have beheld the result. The orphan's own mother would never have +recognized her babe in the midst of the strange, polyangular bundle of +cloth. I suspect that the same might be said of a good many novelists, +and that a judicious trimming of the seams according to some established +pattern might improve their work." + +Arlt nodded approvingly. + +"As usual, Miss Gannion has spoken wisely," he remarked. + +"Miss Gannion has only echoed my words," Sally objected. + +"Not at all. You said it was harder to work from a pattern; I merely +suggested that the results were more satisfactory." + +"Well, never mind," Sally returned promptly. "I don't care about that, +so long as the vote goes against Bobby." + +"And then, this matter of studying," Bobby went on, disdaining her +interruption. "Now, when you get hard up for ideas, Arlt, when you +actually can't get enough out of your gray matter to fill up your +pattern, you go off somewhere and study something. Now, if I--" + +"What have you to do with it, Bobby?" Miss Gannion queried. + +"I represent literature, of course, just as Arlt represents music. If I +were to go off and study something, what would you all think?" + +"That it was the best possible thing you could possibly do," Sally +retorted. + +Bobby frowned. + +"You are so feminine and subjective, Sally. I suppose you can't help it, +though. But really--Arlt, for instance, has produced a prize +composition, while he is still studying. That's exactly what we used to +do in prep. school. Fancy a school for novelists, with night classes for +indigent poets! It would be a parallel case; but what would be the +effect upon literature?" + +Arlt rose deliberately and crossed the room to the empty chair at Miss +Gannion's side. + +"All in all," he answered quietly; "from my slight knowledge of the +teeming millions who are standing in line before the portals of American +literature, I think the establishment of such a school ought to be the +first duty of a self-respecting American government." + +Thayer, meanwhile, was preparing for a longer absence from America than +even Arlt was aware. The late winter and early spring had been for him a +season of perfect professional success. _Faust_ had been the first of +many operas, for the illness of the regular baritone had taken a sudden +turn for the worse and had ended his work for the season, and the +manager had insisted that Thayer should fill his place. The event had +fully justified the prediction of the old _maestro_, and in his operatic +rôles Thayer was finding out where his real greatness lay. His mental +personality, as well as his huge figure, demanded room to manifest +itself. His acting was dramatic, yet full of control and reserve power, +and his voice, fresh from its weeks of rest, richer and stronger than +ever, was endowed with a new note of pathos, of longing for something +quite beyond his power of attainment. Measured by the eye, Thayer held +the world in the hollow of his hand. The ear alone betrayed the fact +that he found the world as hollow as the curve of his encircling +fingers. But when Thayer squared his jaw and threw back his shoulders +before one of his great arias, eye and ear united in saying that the +time would come when, by sheer might of his will, he would fill up that +world until the weight of its fulness should fit his encircling hand +with a contact as absolute as it would be lasting. Meanwhile, he was +biding his time. + +Nominally, he was going to Germany for a little study and much rest. In +reality, he was considering an invitation to sing at Bayreuth, that +summer; and among his papers was an unsigned contract which would keep +him in European cities during the whole of the following winter. He was +leaving his plans undecided, until he could hear definite news from +Beatrix. + +Living within a block of her house, he had nevertheless seen her but +once since Lorimer's death. Once only, less than a week after the +funeral, she had received him when he called. The call had been an +uncomfortable one for them both. Neither had been able to forget that +morning together in the cottage. It had been impossible for them to meet +as if that hour had never been; neither could they accept the truth +which had revealed itself at that time, and face its consequences. As +yet, the time for that had not come. Nevertheless, they both felt +relieved when the call was ended. Living side by side in the same social +circle, they could not fail to meet, as time went on and Beatrix resumed +her old place in the world. Any change in their attitude to each other +would not pass unchallenged. They were bound to meet; it was imperative +that they should meet in precisely the old way. They both were wise +enough to feel that the sooner they met, the better. Unbroken ice +thickens most quickly. However, when Thayer, after a half-hour of +platitudes, went down the steps, Beatrix, locked into her own room, +paced the floor, to and fro, to and fro again, like a caged panther, +while Thayer walked the streets until time to dress for the stage, and +then sang the part of _Valentine_ with a furious madness of despair +which merely added another stiff little leaf to his garland of fame. The +next day, the papers waxed enthusiastic over Thayer's temperament, and +Beatrix, alone in her room, read the papers and smiled sadly to herself +as she read. Thayer's fate was, in a sense, less hard to bear than her +own. He could find outlet for his sorrow. She, perforce, was dumb. + +Since that day, Thayer had caught no glimpse of Beatrix. She had seen +him repeatedly, however, when she had been driving; and once, at Bobby's +urgent pleading, hidden from view in the back of a box, she had heard +him sing _Valentine_. On the way home, she had decided that, after all, +perhaps his fate was no easier than hers to bear. His sorrow had +measured itself by the greatness of his personality. + +As the May days passed by, rumors reached the ears of Thayer that all +was not well with Beatrix. In her strict retirement, he could get no +word from her; but at length, as the rumors increased, he sought out +Bobby Dane. When he came away from Bobby, his face was stern and seamed +with deep lines around his rigid lips, and he vouchsafed to Arlt no +reason for his sudden postponement of the date for their sailing. + +"The first of July will bring us there in season," he explained briefly. +"I find I can't leave New York until after the twentieth." + +So, in the first fierce heat of early June, the days dragged slowly +along. Day after day, Thayer sat long at his desk in the attitude of +passive waiting. Now and then he read over his unsigned contracts, +wondering, meanwhile, whether he would ever sign them. If Beatrix lived, +he had determined to spend the next year abroad. In the other event--He +shook his head. + +Nothing then could make much difference in his future. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + + +During the second week in June, Beatrix's baby was born, and for days +afterward, the mother's life, so long in danger, now hung by a thread. +Then the good old fibre of the Danes reasserted itself, and Beatrix came +slowly upward from the verge of the River of Death. Bobby's face cleared +itself of its shadows, Thayer signed his contracts and, the next week, +he and Arlt finally sailed for Europe. + +In the long days of her convalescence, Beatrix manifested an utter +indifference to the tidings from the outer world. She lay by the hour, +her baby on her arm, looking down at the fuzzy little head and the red +little face whose indeterminate features were fast taking the stamp of +those of their father. Strange to say, the fact caused Beatrix no +repulsion. The fires of her being seemed to have burned themselves out, +and even her feeling to Lorimer shared in her general apathy. In the +weeks which had followed his death, she had made up her mind that the +baby would be fashioned in his image; and she accepted the fact +philosophically, as a part of her life from which there was no appeal. + +From the first, the baby was a quiet child. Apparently he shared his +mother's apathy towards all things, and he lay by the hour in a sluggish +drowse, leaving his mother free to allow her thoughts to wander at will. +They did wander, too. Lying there, passive, in her luxurious room, +Beatrix's mind scaled the heights of heaven, sounded the depths of hell. +The one had lain within her reach; but she had never known it until too +late. The other had crossed her path in the past; it was opening before +her future. Her baby boy, so plainly created in the physical likeness of +his father, could not have failed to receive something of his moral +nature. She quailed before the grim promise of the future and, drawing +the blanket over her face, she tried to shut out the sight and the +thought of her child. And, in the first weeks of her wedded life, she +had so longed for the time when a baby head should cuddle into the curve +of her arm! At the thought, she pulled the blanket away again +impetuously and, of its own accord, her arm tightened around the little +bundle of flannels. He was not entirely Lorimer's child; he was her +own, her very own. He must have inherited something of the sturdy +constitution, the steady nerves of the Danes. The stronger, better blood +was bound to triumph; and she would work unceasingly to oust that other +taint from his nature. He was her child; she loved him, and she would +give her life to the training which should make him able to wipe out the +stain upon his father's record. + +July was burning the white asphalt streets, before Beatrix was strong +enough to be moved to Monomoy. Bobby dropped in to see her, the +afternoon before she left town. + +"Funny little beggar!" he observed, as he sat down opposite Beatrix and +gravely inspected the baby in her arms. + +"What do you think of him?" Beatrix asked, while she smoothed down the +wholly superfluous skirt and then, tilting the baby forward, +straightened the frills on the back of his little yoke. + +"Oh, he's not so bad as he might be," Bobby responded encouragingly, as +he snapped his fingers in the face of the child who stared back at him +impassively. + +The mother's face flushed. + +"What do you mean, Bobby?" she asked a little sharply. + +Too late, Bobby saw his blunder. In his consternation, he blundered yet +more. + +"I had no idea he would be half so presentable a boy. Just the living +image of Lorimer; isn't he?" + +"You see it, too?" + +Bobby was at a loss to interpret the sudden incisive note in her voice. +No one had warned him that the baby's likeness to his father had been a +forbidden subject, and he could not know that Beatrix, in brooding over +the matter, had reached a point where she questioned whether the +resemblance might not exist solely in her own imagination. Bobby's next +words annulled that hope and confirmed her fears. + +"He's as like him as two peas, cunning as he can be. There, boy, look at +your Uncle Bobby!" Bobby bent forward and with his forefinger gently +tilted the little face upward. "Lorimer's eyes to perfection," he +observed. Then, as he met Beatrix's eyes, he suddenly understood their +wild appeal. Dropping the baby's chin, he laid his hand on his cousin's +shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about that, Beatrix," he added reassuringly. +"He probably will take it out in looking, and, for his character, hark +back to some remote Dane or other. Lorimer was a handsome fellow, and +the baby might do worse than look like him. Otherwise, he may go off on +a tangent. Suppose he should take after me, for instance!" + +Bobby spoke cheerily, hoping that Beatrix's laugh would follow his +words. Instead, she caught his hand with her disengaged one and pressed +it fiercely to her cheek. + +"Oh, Bobby, I wish he would!" she cried. + +Bobby looked rather abashed. He and Beatrix had been intimate from their +babyhood; yet neither one of them was prone to self-betrayal, and this +was the most demonstrative scene which had ever taken place between the +cousins. As a rule, they were too sure of each other to feel the need +for expressions of affection. For a minute, Bobby patted Beatrix's cheek +with clumsy gentleness. Then he returned to the baby. + +"Come here, old man! Come to your Uncle Bobby!" he urged, holding out +his hands invitingly. "Come along here." And before Beatrix could utter +a word of protesting caution, the baby was lying in the hollow of +Bobby's elbow and blinking up at his new nurse with round brown eyes. + +Bobby stared down at him benignly. + +"Feels cunning; doesn't he, Beatrix? He seems to fit into one's grip +rather well. One can't help liking the little beggar. By the way, +what's his name?" + +"Sidney," Beatrix responded quietly. + +"The deuce!" In his surprise, Bobby almost dropped the baby. + +Beatrix answered his unspoken thought. + +"Yes, I have decided that it is best. I must meet fate anyway, and I may +as well do it boldly, with a direct challenge. The name won't make any +difference to the baby, and it may help to make me more patient and +forgiving." + +Gently Bobby laid the baby back into Beatrix's arms. Then he rose. + +"No," he said slowly; "it won't make any difference, and it gives the +chance of bringing the name back to its old standing. You may take lots +of comfort with the boy, Beatrix. I hope so with all my heart, for I +know how you need it. Things have gone rather against you, these last +months; but perhaps the bad times are all over now." At the door, he +lingered and looked back. "If you need me at Monomoy, Beatrix, don't +hesitate to send for me. Sometimes it is a comfort to have somebody of +one's own generation within hail." + +Six weeks later, she realized the truth of his words when Bobby came +striding into the room, with the family doctor at his heels. For the +past forty-eight hours, Beatrix had watched convulsion after convulsion +rack the tiny frame, wear itself out and die away, only to be followed +by another and yet another. Under this new sorrow, the grandparents had +given way entirely. They were powerless to help, and Beatrix, pitying +their misery which she knew was more than half for her sake, had sent +them away from the room. For forty-eight hours, she and the nurse had +kept an unbroken vigil; and Beatrix had held herself steady until she +had caught sight of Bobby's strong, happy, pitiful face in the doorway. + +When she came to herself once more, she was lying on the couch in the +hall, with Bobby beside her and Bobby's protecting arm around her +shoulders. + +"It may not be so bad, dear," he was saying soothingly. "Schirmer will +pull him through, if anybody can, and he says it isn't at all hopeless. +Lots of youngsters have convulsions and come out of them, jolly as +grigs." + +Beatrix saw no need for telling him the new fear which had tortured her, +during those endless hours of waiting after she had sent off her +telegram. Instead, she took his sympathy as it was given, with loving +optimism; but she nestled even more closely against her cousin's side, +as if for the hour she gained strength from the touch of his protecting +arm. It was her one spot of perfect restfulness. + +Late that night, Bobby had a talk with the doctor. It left him glad that +already he had spoken with encouragement to Beatrix. The next two days, +he gave his time to her absolutely. Then his official summons came, and +reluctantly he returned to his desk. + +By the time Beatrix was in town again, she was ready to admit to herself +that hopelessness might mean something worse than death. By the end of +the winter, the _might_ had ceased to be potential and had become +actual. Since those August days at Monomoy, the convulsions had recurred +at irregular intervals. The physical constitution of the Danes had +refused to give way to them; the nervous instability of the Lorimers had +yielded to them utterly. Unless some miracle intervened, the child must +face a future of vigorous body and enfeebled brain; and Beatrix, as she +watched him, told herself the melancholy truth that the day of miracles +was irrevocably dead. It seemed to her that the years were stretching +out before her in an empty, unending trail, that she must follow it +alone, hand in hand with her child, bound forever to watch for the +signs of an intellect which never, never should appear. And she was the +one to blame. It was no less her own fault, because she had assumed the +responsibility in arrogant ignoring of its true import. + +One afternoon in late May found her sitting by the open window with the +child in her arms, when Thayer was announced. She greeted him with +something of her old cordiality. Then she rang for the nurse to take +away the baby. + +"When did you get home again?" she asked, when they were seated alone +together. + +"This morning. I landed at ten, and I came directly to you." + +She ignored the eagerness of his tone. + +"You have been wonderfully successful, I am told." + +"Well enough. It was nothing wonderful, though." + +"Bobby has kept me informed of your glories," she insisted, with a +slight smile; "and Mr. Arlt has really enjoyed them as well as if they +had been his own." + +"That is characteristic of Arlt. His letters were noncommittal; but +Bobby says he has had his own fair share of honors. I am glad, for he +deserves them." + +"Indeed he does," she assented heartily. "We all are so glad for him; +and it is a delight to watch the odd, boyish modesty with which he +accepts his own fame. He is the most unspoiled genius I have ever +known." + +There was a short silence. Thayer grew restless under it. He had not +hurried his return, left his luncheon untasted and escaped from a dozen +reporters, in order to sit and discuss Arlt with that black-gowned woman +the tip of whose finger outweighed for him the clumsy honors of the +earth. All the way over, he had paced the steamer's deck by the hour, +planning what words he should say to Beatrix when at last they stood +face to face, with only the long-buried dead between them. He had +supposed that lie had learned his lesson by heart. Nevertheless, now +that he was at last in her presence, his words fled from his mind. +Beatrix broke the silence. + +"You have seen Bobby, then?" + +"He met me at the steamer." + +She raised her eyes to his, half-appealingly, half-defiantly. + +"And he told you--" + +"He has told me everything," Thayer interrupted her. He rose restlessly, +crossed the room to the mantel and examined a vase with unseeing eyes. +Then, returning, he halted directly before her, straightened his +shoulders and drew a deep, full breath. "Beatrix?" he said unsteadily. + +She shrank from before the words she had been dreading for so long. + +"Don't!" she begged him. + +"But I must." His voice was steady now. "We both of us know the truth, +and the time has come when we can acknowledge it. I have waited long, +dear, long and patiently. For fifteen months, I have left you to +yourself and to the past. Now it is time for the future. I have come +home, Beatrix, to marry you at last." + +Before the glad tenderness that thrilled in his tone, she sank back in +her deep chair and buried her face in her hands. Thayer waited quietly, +patiently. He had told his story; he could afford to wait for her +answer, since he never doubted what it was to be. The silence between +them lasted for moments. From upstairs in another part of the house, +there came a fretful childish cry. Then the stillness dropped again. At +length, Beatrix let her hands fall into her lap. There was an instant of +utter listlessness; then quietly she rose and stood facing him, drawn to +her full height. Her cheeks were white, her eyes unstained by any tears, +her voice quite level. + +"I am sorry," she said slowly; "but what you ask is impossible." + +He started, as if struck with a lash. + +"What do you mean?" + +"That I cannot marry you." + +He stared at her in amazement, while the color left his cheeks and then +rushed again to his temples where the veins stood out like knotted +cords. For the moment, he was angry, baffled by the shock of her +unexpected answer. Then he mastered himself. + +"Do you not love me any longer?" he asked. + +"Any longer?" Her tone sought to express haughty disdain; but her eyes +drooped before the fire in his own. + +"Never mind the words," he said sharply. "In times like this, one can't +stop to pick for rhetorical effects. It is enough that I love you with +all the manhood there is in me, and that for months I have counted upon +winning your love in return. And now--" + +She interrupted him. + +"And now you have found out your mistake," she said sadly. + +"Yes." There was a long interval of silence, before he added, "And is +this final?" + +"It is." Her stiffened lips could scarcely form the words. + +He turned to go away. All the alertness which had marked his coming had +dropped away from him. He moved slowly and with drooping shoulders. +Already his face had grown haggard underneath the bronzing of his sea +voyage. Beatrix stood motionless, watching him, struggling to master +herself, to hold herself firmly to her resolve which had been taking +shape within her, during all that past winter and spring. + +Halfway across the room, Thayer hesitated, turned and came back to her +side. + +"Beatrix," he said impetuously; "we may as well face this thing +squarely. It won't be the first time. We didn't wreck the future then; +we mustn't do it now. The cases are different, though. This time, the +danger lies in half-truths. We must speak plainly." + +She attempted to check him; but, for the once, she was powerless to stem +the tide of his words, and he hurried on,-- + +"We loved each other. There is no disloyalty to Lorimer in admitting it +now. He belonged to the past, and, in that past, you belonged to him. +The past is over and ended now, and, for the future, we must belong to +each other. It is for that that I am here." + +She tried in vain to control her voice. Then she shook her head. + +"What has come between us?" he demanded. "You did love me. Look up, +Beatrix! Yes, your eyes tell the truth about it. You love me now; I am +here to prove it, and to marry you in spite of yourself." + +Gently she put away his arms and faced him. + +"No. It is impossible." + +He wavered before the finality of her tone. + +"But you love me," he urged. + +She was silent, and stood with her eyes fixed on the floor at his feet. +Then, of a sudden, she raised her eyes to his, and Thayer was dazzled by +the light that was shining in them. + +"Yes," she answered, with a quiet dignity which he could not gainsay. +"And that is the very reason that I will not marry you. I love you too +well--so well that I can never allow you to become the father of Sidney +Lorimer's child." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + + +"I believe my world is overcrowded," Sally said, one January afternoon, +two years later. + +"Arlt, why don't you take the hint?" Bobby asked languidly. "I am too +comfortable to stir, and she evidently wishes to get rid of somebody." + +"Possibly she means me; but I was the last to come, so I shall outstay +you both," Miss Gannion said, laughing. "At least, Sally, your +hospitality does you credit." + +With leisurely fingers, Sally was opening her teaball; but Bobby +interposed. + +"I wouldn't make any tea for us, Sally. I know you are afraid it may not +hold out for your crowded universe, and we three have been here often +enough to have dispelled any illusions about the quality of your cups. +Two are cracked, and one has a nick exactly in the spot where we drink. +I suspect Arlt of having cut his wisdom teeth on it." + +"Only women cut their wisdom teeth on a teacup," Miss Gannion observed. +"But really, Sally, I would save my tea until the crowd shows itself." + +Sally shook her head. + +"You interrupted me in the midst of my thesis." + +Bobby interrupted again. + +"It is our only chance to get in a word. We have to insert its thin edge +at a comma, or else keep still. You never have any conversational +semicolons, to say nothing of periods." + +"As I was saying," Sally repeated pertinaciously; "my world is +overcrowded. I have so many acquaintances that I never get time to enjoy +my friends." + +"What about now?" Bobby queried. "Here are we, and here is time. Which +is lacking: enjoyment, or friendship?" + +"Oh, this is an interlude, and doesn't count. We shall just get into the +midst of a little rational conversation, though, and two or three stupid +people will come in and reduce us to talking about the weather." + +"You might send out cards," Arlt suggested, with the hesitating accent +which was so characteristic of him. "Why not announce that on Tuesdays +you are at home to clever people and friends only?" + +"Yes; but it is no subject for joking," Sally persisted. "Last Tuesday +in all that storm, for the first time this winter, Mr. Thayer came to +see me. I know how busy he is, and I was just preparing to make the most +of his call, when Mrs. Stanley came swishing and creaking into the room, +and she babbled about her servants and her lumbago until Mr. Thayer took +his departure. I wanted to administer poison." + +"Try an anodyne," Bobby advised her. "They say that stout people yield +easily to their influence. By the way, why is it polite to call a woman +stout, but rude in the extreme to dub her fat? That is one of the +problems I have never been able to solve. I used the wrong word in +regard to Mrs. Stanley, one night, and she overheard me. Since then, she +hauls in her latch-string hand over hand, whenever I turn the corner." + +"Do you mind, Bobby?" Sally inquired. "The two most peaceful years of my +social life were the years immediately following the day I advised Mrs. +Stanley not to attempt _Juliet_ in public. Lately, I have wished that +her memory were just a bit more retentive. Tell me, has anybody seen +Beatrix, this week?" + +"She was at Carnegie Hall, last night." + +Arlt's face brightened. + +"Really?" + +"Yes, I coaxed her into going. You ought to feel honored, Arlt; it is +the first music she has heard, this season." + +"Hasn't she been to hear Mr. Thayer?" + +"No; she hasn't heard him since his first season. I tell her she has no +idea how he has developed, nor how much she is losing; but she seems to +have lost her love for music." + +"Poor, dear girl! I don't wonder," Sally said impetuously. + +But Arlt interposed. + +"Isn't there a certain comfort to be gained from it?" he asked. "I +hoped--I had thought music was to inspire and help people, not to amuse +them." + +"It does in theory," Bobby returned; "only now and then it reminds one +of things, and upsets the whole scheme of inspiration. But I was +surprised that Beatrix went, last night." + +"What did she say?" Arlt inquired, with a frankness which yet bore no +taint of egotism. + +"Not very much; but her face at the close of your _Andante_ told the +story. You touched her on the raw, Arlt; but you roused her pluck to +bear it. I think she will send you a note, to-day." + +"I wonder if you realize what an event for your friends this symphony +was," Sally broke in. + +Arlt smiled. With growing manhood, his gravity also had grown; but his +slow little smile caused his face to light wonderfully. Denied all claim +to beauty, there was a great charm in the simple, modest dignity with +which he bore himself. He answered Sally's last words with an +earnestness that became him well. + +"Without my friends, my symphony would have been left unwritten." + +"And it was a perfect success," Sally added. + +"Success is never perfect," he returned a little sadly. "Its merit must +lie in its incompleteness, for that just urges us on to something +beyond. The success on which we rest, is no better than a failure. Some +day, I shall begin my ideal symphony; but, by the time I have reached my +final _Maestoso_, I shall have learned that my ideal has moved on again +beyond my reach." + +"In other words, a real genius is nothing but an artistic +butter-fingers," Bobby commented irreverently. "Stop your German +philosophizing, Arlt, and help us enjoy the present by playing your +_Scherzo_. Thayer says it is by far the best thing you have ever done." + +Obediently Arlt crossed to the piano. In his absorption in his symphony, +he had by no means allowed his skill as a pianist to rust for want of +use, and a little sigh of utter content went around the group, as they +heard the dainty, clashing notes answer to the touch of his fingers. He +was in the full rhythm of his _Scherzo_, playing, humming, or whistling, +according to his whim and to the demands of the orchestral score, when +Sally gave a sudden exclamation of warning. + +"Behold the crowd! Here endeth the interlude! Enter Mrs. Lloyd Avalons!" + +"What in thunder is that woman doing here, Sally?" Bobby demanded, as +Arlt's fingers dropped from the keys in the very midst of a phrase. + +Sally shrugged her shoulders with the petulant gesture of a naughty +child. + +"How in thunder should I know, Bobby? I wish you'd ask her." + +"No use. She never takes a hint." + +A sudden change came over the group, as Mrs. Lloyd Avalons tripped +daintily into the room. Miss Gannion straightened herself in her chair +and took refuge in her lorgnette; Arlt's artistic fire extinguished +itself, and he once more became the taciturn young German, while Sally +assumed certain of the characteristics of a frozen olive. Bobby, +however, continued to smile upon the room with unabated serenity. + +"What a delight to find you here!" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons exclaimed, as she +took Sally's hand. + +"Miss Van Osdel has unsuspected depths to her nature," Bobby observed +gravely. "Long as I have known her, Mrs. Avalons, I assure you I have +never succeeded in finding her out." + +"Oh--yes. How like you that is, Mr. Dane! But I was including you all." + +"Taking us all in?" Bobby queried. + +"Taking us just as you find us," Sally added. "You also take tea, I +think, Mrs. Avalons?" + +"You'd better," Bobby urged, with inadvertent pointedness. "We were just +saying that Miss Van Osdel brews wisdom mingled with her tea." + +"Bobby!" Sally adjured him, in a horrified whisper; but Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons had already turned to Arlt. + +"I am so glad to meet you here, Mr. Arlt. All your friends, to-day, are +eager to congratulate you on your wonderful symphony." + +"Yes." Arlt's tone was scarcely ingratiating, as he stirred his tea +violently. + +"Yes, it was beautiful, so sweet and harmonious. Really, you are quite +taking the city by storm. You must be very busy to do so much writing. +Don't you get very tired?" + +"Sometimes." Arlt emptied his cup at a gulp. + +"Oh, you must! But it is worth tiring one's poor head, to achieve such +splendid results. But don't you ever rest? All winter long, I have been +hoping you would find time to drop in on me, some Thursday." + +"Thank you." Arlt attacked his extra lump of sugar with his spoon. +Eluding his touch, it flew across the room and landed at Bobby's feet. +Stooping down, Bobby rescued it and gravely handed it back to Arlt. + +"Try it again, old man," he said encouragingly. "You'll get the proper +range in time." + +But Mrs. Lloyd Avalons returned to the charge. + +"Well, as long as you won't come to me, I must seize my chance here, if +Miss Van Osdel will excuse me. We are getting up a concert for the +benefit of the Allied Day Nurseries, Mr. Arlt. It is to be very select +indeed, only artists of established reputation are to be invited to take +part, and we shall keep the price of the tickets up high enough to shut +out any undesirable people who might otherwise come. We are counting on +you for two numbers." + +"But I cannot play." + +"In other words, Mrs. Avalons," Bobby remarked: "you'll have to discount +Arlt." + +"But we must have him," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons said, in real dismay. "We +never thought of his refusing." + +Arlt shook his head in grim silence. + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons took refuge in cajolery. + +"Oh, but you must! We can't spare you, Mr. Arlt. If you don't care for +the charity, you'll do it for me; won't you?" + +Deliberately Arlt packed the sugar and the spoon into his cup, and set +the cup down on the table. Then he turned to face Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +squarely. + +"On the contrary, that is the very reason I cannot do it, Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons. When Miss Gannion introduced me to you as Mr. Thayer's +accompanist and a pianist who needed engagements, you wished to refuse +me a place on your programme. Now that others have been good enough to +listen to me, you can make room for two numbers by me. I am very sorry; +but I shall be unable to accept your invitation." + +There was no underlying rancor in the slow, deliberate syllables; they +were merely the statement of an indisputable fact. Most women would +have accepted them in silence. Not so with Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. + +"But you played for Miss Van Osdel, last week," she persisted. + +Arlt rose to his feet. + +"Yes, I played for Miss Van Osdel, last week, just as I hope to have the +pleasure of playing for her many times more in the future. However, that +is quite a different matter. Miss Van Osdel and I are very old friends, +and it will always be one of my very greatest pleasures to be entirely +at her service." He made a quaint little bow in Sally's direction, and +his face lighted with the friendly, humorous smile she knew so well. +Then he added, "And now I must bid you all a very good afternoon." + +He bowed again and walked away, with his simple dignity unruffled to the +last. Society might bless him, or society might ban. Nevertheless, it +was by no means Arlt's intention to turn his art into a species of +lap-dog, to come trotting in at society's call, and then be dismissed to +the outer darkness again, so soon as the round of its tricks was +accomplished. Egotism Arlt had not; but his independence shrank at no +one of the corollaries of his creed of art. + +Bobby lingered after the others had gone away. + +"I say, Sally," he remarked at length, apparently apropos of nothing in +particular; "how does it happen that you have never married me?" + +[Illustration: "'I believe I might as well ask you now'"] + +"Probably for the very excellent reason that you have never asked me," +Sally responded frankly. + +With his hands in his pockets, Bobby sauntered across to the sofa where +she was sitting. There he stood contemplating her for a moment. Then he +settled himself at her side. + +"Well," he said slowly; "I believe I might as well ask you now." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + + +"I almost made a whole poem about you," Bobby said to Thayer, one night. +Thayer laughed. + +"How far did you get?" + +"The last line." + +"Then you actually did make one." + +Bobby shook his head. + +"Oh, no. I only made the next to the last line and the last. Then the +inspiration gave out." + +"What was it?" Thayer asked idly. + +The mirth left Bobby's face, and he looked up at his companion almost +defiantly. + + "Forget the things we cannot, + And face the things we must," + +he said slowly. + +The dark red leaped up into Thayer's face, as he looked at Bobby keenly. + +"How long have you known it?" + +"Since the day I told you they had come home from abroad. You sang _St. +Paul_, that night, you may remember, and afterwards I advised you to go +into grand opera. A fellow with a voice like yours can't expect to have +any secrets of his own." Bobby paused; then he added thoughtfully, "Life +is bound to be a good deal of a bluff for us all." + +Thayer walked on in silence for seven or eight blocks. + +"What do you think about it?" he asked then. + +"I think that I would almost delay my own wedding, for the sake of being +your best man." + +"And yet, she says it is impossible," Thayer said thoughtfully. + +"When was that?" + +"Two years ago, when I came home from Europe." + +"Oh!" Bobby said slowly, as the light dawned upon him. "That was the +blow that floored you, that summer; was it? I never knew. What was the +trouble? The child?" + +Thayer's assent was rather curt in its brevity. Bobby's blunt, kindly +questions hurt him; yet, after all, there was a sort of comfort in the +hurt. After two years of silence, it was a relief to be able to speak of +his trouble. It had grown no more, no less with the passing months; it +was just what it had been, at the close of that warm May afternoon. + +"Do you know, I rather like Beatrix for the stand she has taken," Bobby +said meditatively. "She has the sense to know that, if she married you +and made you share the responsibility of that child, it would knock your +singing higher than a kite." + +Thayer interrupted him impatiently. + +"How much does my singing amount to me in comparison with my love for +Beatrix? I would cancel my engagements, to-morrow, if she would say the +word." + +"But, thank the Lord, she won't," Bobby replied placidly. "Don't be an +ass, Thayer. It is a popular fiction that an artist is expected to give +up his work for the sake of matrimony; but it's an immoral fable. The +gods have endowed you with a voice, and you have no business to fling +away the gift, when your keeping it can do so much good in the world. +You owe something to humanity, and a lot more back to the gods who gave +you the voice; you have no moral right to do anything that will hinder +your paying that debt. Beatrix knows this. She knows what would be the +inevitable effect of saddling you with the child, and she is right in +her decision." + +"Has she been talking the matter over with you?" Thayer asked, with +sudden jealousy. + +Bobby laughed scornfully. + +"No need. I have eyes of my own, and I learned my _Barbara Celarent_ in +junior year." + +Another block was passed in silence. Then Thayer asked,-- + +"Do you see Mrs. Lorimer often?" + +"Every day or so. I drop in there when I can, for she's not going out +much, and she needs to see more people." + +"How is she?" + +"I don't know how to tell you," Bobby answered, while a note of sadness +crept into his voice. "She is giving her life to that child; and, unless +you know the child, you can't imagine the wear and tear of such an +existence. I don't know which would be worse, the watching for the +intellect which never comes, or the waiting for the convulsions that +do." + +"What will be the end of it all?" Thayer broke out impetuously. + +Bobby shook his head. + +"God knows," he said drearily. + +Bobby spoke truly, for already it seemed that the divine plan was made +to take the imperfect little life back into its keeping. A sudden chill, +a sudden cold, and then the grim word, pneumonia! For days, Beatrix and +the nurse hung over the child, struggling almost against hope to conquer +the disease. Then it was that Beatrix realized how truly she had loved +her little son, how she would miss even the constant pain of his +presence. He was her very own, the one being in the world who belonged +absolutely to her; and she fought for his life with the fierceness of +despair. Then, just as it seemed that she had triumphed and the child +was out of danger, the same insidious foe which had ended Lorimer's +life, attacked the life of his child. + +Alone in the dusky room, Beatrix was sitting on the edge of the bed, her +arm around the boy who had just snuggled down for the night. Drowsily +his lids drooped; then he opened his eyes, met her eyes and struggled up +to reach her face. + +"Mamma, kiss!" he begged. + +That was all. Weakened by disease, the heart had been powerless to bear +the strain of the sudden motion, and the boy fell into his final sleep, +cradled in his mother's arms. + +That night, Thayer sang _The Flying Dutchman_ in the same city where, +four years before, he had sung _St. Paul_. He had not been there, during +the intervening time; but his public had been faithful to his memory, +and the little opera house was packed to its utmost limits to do honor +to its former favorite, as well as to its one-night opera season. For +some unaccountable reason, Thayer had liked the place. Both the house +and the audience had pleased him, and it had been at his own request +that the manager had put on _The Flying Dutchman_, for that night. + +During the last few months, _The Dutchman_ had become Thayer's favorite +rôle. Even _Valentine_ had palled upon him in time. Lingering deaths +become monotonous. When one dies them, four or five times a week, he +longs to hasten the course of events, to change the _Andante_ to a +_Prestissimo_. To Thayer's later mood, it seemed that, psychologically +speaking, _Valentine_ belonged to the ranks of the tenors. His riper +manhood demanded something a little more robust. + +Thayer never admitted to himself that his liking for _The Dutchman_ came +from the personal interpretation which he put upon the story. In some +moods, he would have scoffed at the idea that there could be any +connection between himself, the successful artist whose single surname +on the bill boards could suffice to fill a house, and the wretched +_Dutchman_ whose one defiance hurled at fate had condemned him to +life-long wandering over the face of the deep. Of course, he wandered, +too; but it was by easy stages and by means of Pullmans. The parallelism +failed utterly. Still, there was the possibility of ultimate salvation +gained through the faithful love of a woman. Nevertheless, Thayer's +analysis always brought him to the conclusion that he liked the opera +because his death scene was consummated in the brief space of two +measures. + +Thayer was feeling uncommonly alert and content, that night, and, +moreover, he liked his audience. Accordingly, he gave them of his best. +Never had his voice been richer, never had it rung with more dramatic +power than when, in his aria of the first act, he had ended his lament +with the declaration of his inevitable release on the slow-coming +Judgment Day. Then he stood waiting, a huge, lonely, brooding figure, +square-shouldered, square-jawed, defiant of fate, while softly the +chorus of sailors in the hold below echoed the closing phrase of his +song. + +Even into Thayer's experience, no such ovation had ever come before. At +first, the audience sat breathless, as if stunned by the might of his +tragedy. Then the applause came crashing down from the galleries, up +from the floor, in from the boxes, focussing itself from all sides upon +that single, lonely, dominant figure before it. And Cotton Mather +Thayer, as he listened with a quiet, impassive face, felt his heart +leaping and bounding within him. He knew, by an instinct which he had +learned to trust completely, that in the years to come, he would never +reach a greater height of artistic success than he had done just then. +One such experience could justify many a year of halting indecision. +Puritan to the core, he yet had proved true to his Slavonic birthright. + +As he left the stage with _Senta_ at the end of the second act, a +messenger handed him a card. + +"The gentleman is waiting," he added. "He said he must see you, and that +he was in a hurry." + +Thayer glanced at the card. + +"Bring him to my dressing-room," he said. + +He glanced up in surprise, as the door opened and Bobby Dane entered. He +had expected to see Bobby, immaculate in evening clothes, come strolling +lazily in to congratulate him, as he had so often done before when +Thayer had sung in cities near New York. Instead, Bobby was still in +morning dress, and his face and manner betokened some great excitement. + +"I only heard your duet," he said abruptly; "but they are saying you +have outdone yourself. Will it break up your part, if I tell you some +news?" + +Thayer paled suddenly. + +"Is Beatrix--" + +"No; but the boy died at six o'clock, this afternoon. I went to the +house; but I found there was nothing I could do, so I caught the seven +o'clock train and came up to tell you. Sure it won't upset your +singing?" + +Thayer shook his head impatiently. + +"I've borne worse shocks, Dane, and gone on warbling as if nothing had +happened. Did Beatrix send for me?" + +"No. I only saw her for a minute. But I thought perhaps you would like +to go to her at once. She may need you." + +Thayer held out his hand. + +"This is like you, Dane. Thank you," he said briefly, as his man came to +warn him that _The Dutchman's_ crew had begun their chorus. + +Bobby followed him into the wings. + +"There's a train down at two o'clock," he suggested. "Shall we take +that?" + +"The sooner, the better." + +"I'll get the places, then, and meet you at the hotel afterwards." And +Bobby departed, just as the strings and wind gave out their +announcement of _The Dutchman's_ presence. + +In the years to come, Thayer never knew how he went through that final +scene. It was the automatic obedience of an artistic nature to its years +of careful training. He was conscious of hearing no note from the +orchestra, no sound from his own lips. His whole being was centred in +the thought that at last Beatrix was free; that, in her final freedom, +they must face the ultimate crisis of their destinies. Would it be for +weal, or for woe? His brain refused to give back answer to the question. +And, meanwhile, the close-packed audience was thrilling with the +passionate pain of his accepted doom. + +The crash of the renewed applause aroused him from his absorption and, +hand in hand with _Senta_, he emerged from his watery grave to bow his +appreciation. But it was not enough. Even to his dressing-room, he was +pursued by the cries of his name. Yielding reluctantly, he went out +before the curtain once again. Then he hurried back, and began tearing +off his costume with a feverish haste which took no account of the time +before he could get a train back to New York. + +As Thayer's cab turned into the familiar street and stopped at the door +of the Lorimers' house, the gray dawn was breaking. Before its wan +color, the street lamps turned to a sickly yellow, and the asphalt +street stretched away between them like a long chalky ruler bordered +with dots of luminous paint. Above him, the lights in the house glared +out across the sombre dawn, and something in their steady, unsympathetic +glow, in the gray dawn and in the yellowing lamps carried Thayer's mind +far back to that other winter morning when he had hurried through the +storm to be with Beatrix in her hour of need. + +The old butler opened the door to him, and took his coat. Then he +pointed towards the library. + +"She is there," he said softly, with an odd little quaver in his thin +old voice. "I think you may go to her." + +Thayer crossed the hall, laid his hand on the door, then hesitated. For +an instant, he shrank from the scene that might be before him. Then +instinctively he drew himself up and pushed open the door. + +"Beatrix?" he said. + +The color rushed to her face, as she sprang up and held out her hands. + +"Thank God, you have come!" + + + * * * * * + + +=Little, Brown, and Co.'s New Novels= + +_The Siege of Youth._ By FRANCES CHARLES, author of "In the Country God +Forgot." Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + This is a story of the present day, and its scene is San Francisco, + the author's home. It deals with art, with journalism, and with + human nature, and its love episodes are charming and true to life. + The three women characters of the book are finely drawn and + contrasted, there is much local color in the story, and a great + deal of bright and epigrammatic writing. The author's previous + book, "In the Country God Forgot," has been received with the + utmost favor. The _Boston Daily Advertiser_ says it "discloses a + new writer of uncommon power." + +=Barbara, a Woman of the West.= By JOHN H. WHITSON. Illustrated by Chase +Emerson. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + A distinctively American novel, dealing with life in the far West, + and in many ways remarkable, with a novel plot and unusual + situations. The scenes of the story are a Western ranch, Cripple + Creek, and the City of San Diego. The heroine, Barbara, is the + loyal wife of a somewhat self-centred man of literary tastes, Roger + Timberly, living on a ranch in Kansas. Barbara's long and patient + quest for her husband, who has gone to Cripple Creek to visit a + mine, the means which she adopts to support herself, the ardor with + which she is wooed by Gilbert Bream, and the complications which + ensue are extremely interesting. + +=The Shadow of the Czar.= By JOHN R. CARLING. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. _Fifth Edition_. + + An engrossing romance of the sturdy, wholesome sort, in which the + action is never allowed to drag, best describes this popular novel. + "The Shadow of the Czar" is a stirring story of the romantic + attachment of a dashing English officer for Princess Barbara, of + the old Polish Principality of Czernova, and the conspiracy of the + Duke of Bora, aided by Russia, to dispossess the princess of her + throne. + +=The Dominant Strain.= A Novel. By ANNA CHAPIN RAY, author of "Teddy, her +Book," etc. Illustrated in color by Harry C. Edwards. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. + + Anna Chapin Ray's new novel has for its hero Cotton Mather Thayer, + whose father was a Boston blueblood, and whose mother was a Russian + musician. The latter gave to him his musical temperament, and the + title of the book suggests the author's main motif--the warring + strains, Puritan and Slav, in her hero. The central idea is the + mistake a woman makes who attempts to reform a man after marriage. + Beatrix Dane, the heroine of the book, discovers during her + engagement that Lorimer, her lover, has an inherited appetite for + drink, but from a mistaken sense of duty does not break her troth, + and her intimate friends shrink from any interference. Much of the + novel has a decidedly musical atmosphere, and the attitude of some + portions of New York society toward musical people is well + described. + +=A Detached Pirate.= By HELEN MILCETE. Illustrated in color by I. H. +Caliga. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + A misunderstanding, a divorce, and a reconciliation furnish the + theme of this bright, clever, witty, society novel. The events + occur in London, in Halifax and its garrison, and in New York; and + the story is told by Gay Vandeleur, a very charming heroine. The + book will entertain and delight all who read it. + +=The Pharaoh and the Priest.= Translated from the original Polish of +ALEXANDER GLOVATSKI, by JEREMIAH CURTIN. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. _Fifth Edition_. + + A powerful portrayal of Ancient Egypt in the eleventh century + before Christ is this novel in which Alexander Glovatski has + vividly depicted the pitiless struggle between the pharaoh and the + priesthood for supremacy. "Here is a historical novel in the best + sense," says the _New York Commercial Advertiser_, "a novel which + makes a vanished civilization live again." + +=Love Thrives in War.= A Romance of the Frontier in 1812. By MARY +CATHERINE CROWLEY, author of "A Daughter of New France," "The Heroine of +the Strait," etc. Illustrated by Clyde O. De Land. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. + + The surrender of General Howe and his American army to the British + and their Indian allies under Tecumseh, and other stirring events + of the War of 1812 form the historical background of Miss Crowley's + latest romance. The reader's interest is at once centered in the + heroine, Laurente Macintosh, a pretty and coquettish Scotch girl. + The many incidents which occur in the vicinity of Detroit are + related with skill and grace. The characters, real and fictitious, + are strongly contrasted. Miss Crowley's new romance is strongly + imaginative and picturesquely written, wholesome, inspiring, and + absorbing. + +=The Wars of Peace.= By A. F. WILSON Illustrated by H. C. Ireland. 12mo. +Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + A strong and skilfully constructed novel upon a subject of the + greatest importance and interest at the present time,--"Trusts" and + their consequences. Albion Harding, a successful and immensely + ambitious financier, organizes an industrial combination which + causes much suffering and disaster, and eventually alienates his + only son, who, declining to enter the "Trust," withdraws his + capital from his father's business, and buys a small mill and + attempts to manage it according to his own ideas. The account of + the destruction of Theodore Harding's mill, and his rescue, is + dramatic, vivid, and thrilling. + +=A Prince of Sinners.= By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM, author of "A Millionaire +of Yesterday," "The Traitors," etc. Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50. + + An engrossing story of English social life told by a skilled hand. + Lord Arranmore, returning to England after an absence of twenty + misspent years, finds his manly son, Kingston Brooks, unforgiving, + and determined to work out his own career. The difficulties with + which Brooks meets in carrying out his purpose, the attempts of + Lord Arranmore to assist him, together with the divided love + interest, make up an ingenious present-day romance, which possesses + an extraordinary fascination. + + +=A Rose of Normandy.= By WILLIAM R. A. WILSON. Illustrated by Ch. +Grunwald. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + A most entertaining historical romance of France and Canada in the + reign of Louis XIV. Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle, and his + faithful lieutenant, Henri de Tonti, are leading characters, the + latter being the hero of the book. The explorations of La Salle, + his hardships and adventures, the love of Tonti for Renée, the + "Rose of Normandy," their escapes from the Indians, and other + adventures, make up a story which the author has told with great + spirit. + +=The Spoils of Empire.= A Romance of the Old World and the New. By FRANCIS +NEWTON THORPE, author of "The Constitutional History of the United +States," etc. Illustrated by Frank B. Masters. 12mo. Decorated cloth, +$1.50. + + The Spanish Inquisition and the wondrous splendor and power of + Mexico in the time of Montezuma furnish the rich historical + background of this brilliant and absorbing romance. The conquest of + Mexico by the adventurous Spaniards is vividly described; and the + passion of Juan Estoval, a follower of Cortez, for the beautiful + Aztec princess, Dorothea, the daughter of Montezuma, furnishes a + tender and charming love story. + +=Sarah Tuldon.= A Woman Who Had Her Way. By ORME AGNUS, author of "Love in +Our Village," "Jan Oxber," etc. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated cloth, +$1.50. + + A remarkable study of an English peasant girl of strong character + who was developed by the circumstances of her life into a fine, + noble-hearted, and generous woman. Sarah Tuldon is a very unusual, + original, and racy type of character, and outside of Thomas Hardy's + books there is no such realistic study of conditions which exist in + England to-day among the laborers, as that given in the pages of + this story. The author has genuine humor and pathos and great + dramatic skill. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dominant Strain, by Anna Chapin Ray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOMINANT STRAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 29760-8.txt or 29760-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/6/29760/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/29760-8.zip b/29760-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d56688f --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-8.zip diff --git a/29760-h.zip b/29760-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a3f5d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h.zip diff --git a/29760-h/29760-h.htm b/29760-h/29760-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e2896a --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h/29760-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9399 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dominant Strain, by Anna Chapin Ray. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center;} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.border {border-color: black; + border: 1px solid} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dominant Strain, by Anna Chapin Ray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Dominant Strain + +Author: Anna Chapin Ray + +Illustrator: Harry C. Edwards + +Release Date: August 22, 2009 [EBook #29760] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOMINANT STRAIN *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="371" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h1>THE DOMINANT STRAIN<br /><br /><br /></h1> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 348px; height: 600px;"> +<a id="Frontispiece" name="Frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="348" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Beatrix?' he said"</span> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4>THE</h4> + +<h2>DOMINANT STRAIN</h2> + +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h3>ANNA CHAPIN RAY</h3> + +<h5>AUTHOR OF "TEDDY, HER BOOK," "PHEBE, HER PROFESSION,"<br /> +"TEDDY, HER DAUGHTER," "NATHALIE'S CHUM,"<br /> +"EACH LIFE UNFULFILLED"</h5> + +<h5><i>ILLUSTRATED BY</i></h5> + +<h5>HARRY C. EDWARDS</h5> + +<h5>BOSTON<br /> +LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY</h5> +<h6>1903</h6> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h5><i>Copyright, 1903,</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span>.</h5> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<h6><i>All rights reserved</i></h6> + +<h5>Published May, 1903</h5> + +<h6>UNIVERSITY PRESS · JOHN WILSON<br /> +AND SON · CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.</h6> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<h5>FROM DRAWINGS IN COLOR BY HARRY C. EDWARDS</h5> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td align="left">"'Beatrix?' he said"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"'Can't you make any sort of an excuse for<br /> +yourself, Sidney?' she demanded"</td><td align="right">Page <a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"It was so that Thayer liked best to think of her"</td><td align="right">" <a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Beatrix still sat at the disordered table"</td><td align="right">" <a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"'I believe I might as well ask you now'"</td><td align="right">" <a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>THE DOMINANT STRAIN</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ONE" id="CHAPTER_ONE"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h2> + +<p>Beatrix smiled a little wearily. Intimate friends are sometimes cloying, +and she felt a certain irritation rising within her, as she watched +Sally's bright face under her French toque, and listened to the easy +stream of chatter which issued from Sally's lips. Sally had never faced +such a crisis as the one confronting Beatrix, that day. Moreover, she +had dimples, and it was impossible to believe in the sympathy of a +person whose dimples insisted upon coming into sight, even in the midst +of serious discussion.</p> + +<p>"If he hasn't already," Sally persisted; "he is bound to do it before +the season is over. Then what shall you tell him?"</p> + +<p>"Aren't you rushing things a little?" Beatrix inquired languidly. +"Please do remember that I only met Mr. Lorimer at the Horse Show, and +that it is three weeks to Lent."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing," Sally replied flatly, but flippantly. "You subjugated +Eric Stanford in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> half that time, and his gray matter has been in a +pulpy condition ever since."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know it."</p> + +<p>"About his gray matter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is congenital trouble. I mean I didn't know that I had +subjugated him. Besides, that is different. He was Bobby Dane's chum, +and we took him into the family."</p> + +<p>"Took him in all over," Sally drawled.</p> + +<p>Beatrix's eyes flashed. There were things she would not say to Sally; +there were also things which Sally could not say to her.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," she said, as she rose; "but I must get ready for Mrs. +Stanley's recital. How does it happen you aren't going?"</p> + +<p>"For the most ignominious of reasons. I'm not bidden. Mrs. Stanley and I +were on a committee together, once upon a time. We squabbled over some +amateur theatricals, and she has cut my acquaintance ever since. I +always did say that there is nothing like amateur theatricals for +bringing out all the worst vices of humanity. If a Shakespearian revival +ever reaches the heavenly host, Gabriel and Michael will have to play +Othello and Iago turn and turn about, to prevent ill-feeling. Beatrix?"</p> + +<p>"Well?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you honestly think of Mr. Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>Beatrix hesitated. Then she faced her friend.</p> + +<p>"That he is the most interesting man we have met, this season."</p> + +<p>"That's not saying any too much. Still, it is an admission. Are you +going to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"He hasn't asked me."</p> + +<p>"But he will."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"I do know."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of it." Beatrix laughed nervously.</p> + +<p>"But if he does?"</p> + +<p>"I—I'm not so sure of that, either."</p> + +<p>"Beatrix! Why not?"</p> + +<p>Beatrix untied the long ribbons which belted her gown, and stood drawing +them slowly through and through her fingers. Sally leaned back in her +deep chair and watched her friend keenly, mercilessly. She and Beatrix +had fenced long enough; it was time for the direct thrust. Sidney +Lorimer was the most available man on that winter's carpet. Moreover, +for weeks he had been a patient follower in the wake of Beatrix Dane. +Beatrix might be as impenetrable as she chose; but Sally knew that, +during the past week, she had been reading the headings of certain +suppressed chap<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>ters in Lorimer's history, and that they had changed her +whole attitude towards the man. The signs were slight, too slight for +him to have recognized them as yet; but Sally's curious, pitiless eyes +had discerned them. She had discerned and disapproved, and she had +resolved that no squeamish delicacy should keep her from preventing +Beatrix's playing the part of a prude.</p> + +<p>"He is the best-looking man of the season, and the best dancer. He took +honors at Göttingen. He has any quantity of money." Sally ticked off the +points on the tips of her gray glove. "And most of all," she tapped her +thumb conclusively, "he is very much in love with Miss Beatrix Dane, and +I want him to marry her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sally, do be sensible!" Beatrix burst out impatiently. Then she +pulled herself up sharply and turned to bay. "What about the Forbes +supper?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>Sally shrugged her shoulders, as she fastened her fur collar.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Beatrix, you prig! Are there any men of our set who haven't been a +little frisky?"</p> + +<p>"Frisky! That is a milder word than I should use, Sally. The Forbes +affair transcends friskiness and becomes the beginning of the pace that +kills. It was intolerable; I can't forgive it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her face flushed; then it paled and hardened with the rigidity of +self-control. Sally peered out at her through lowered lashes, and judged +that it was time for her to remove herself. She had known Beatrix from +their childhood, and this was the first time she had seen her jarred +from her self-possession. She fastened the last hook with a jerk. Then +she rose and went to her friend's side.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to tease you, dear," she said penitently. "I know this +has been worrying you; but don't let it get on your nerves and influence +you too much. All men make slips at times. Mr. Lorimer is a good fellow, +even if he has been a little fast. He would drop all that as soon as he +was—settled. Besides, this isn't nearly as bad as ever so many of the +stories we hear."</p> + +<p>"No," Beatrix assented drearily; "but it is bad enough."</p> + +<p>"Then you do care?"</p> + +<p>"Care!" She laughed a little harshly. "Sally, truly I must send you off. +It is time I was dressing, for I promised to go. I am sorry, but—"</p> + +<p>"I am used to being dismissed; I shall come again." There was no hint of +rancor in Sally's tone, yet she went away fully convinced that her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> own +system of measurement could never reach the heights and the depths of +her friend's mood.</p> + +<p>Left to herself, Beatrix forgot her need for haste. She dropped down +into a chair, and sat for many moments brooding over the fire. Her hand +shielded her face; yet it could not conceal the anxious lines above her +eyes nor the drooping lips. Lorimer had asked permission to call upon +her, that evening, and she knew by instinct what the evening was holding +in store for her. Confronted with the final decision, she was at a loss +which course to take. Should she close her eyes to the plague-spot which +might one day spread and spread until it tainted her whole life? The +present was very tempting. Why not take it, and ignore the future? Most +girls would wink at the suspicion which, during the past week, had been +clouding her dream of perfect content. How far was she accountable for +the future?</p> + +<p>She dressed hurriedly; but when she reached Mrs. Stanley's house, the +recital had already begun, and she dropped into a seat outside the +music-room door. The artist was a new star upon the horizon. She had +supposed him to be only one of the vast milky way which helped to shed a +dim light upon Mrs. Stanley, as that good lady clambered slowly up the +social ladder. Instead of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> that, Beatrix entirely forgot Mrs. Stanley's +antics, in watching for the star itself. She even dismissed Lorimer from +her mind, as she bent forward in eager listening to the invisible +singer.</p> + +<p>"Great fellow, Schubert!" her cousin observed, sauntering up to her side +as soon as the recital was ended. "They say that this Thayer is daft +upon the subject of him. Anyway, he manages to interpret him fairly +well. What did you think?"</p> + +<p>She pulled herself out of her absorption and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Don't expect me to analyze him, Bobby. He is past that."</p> + +<p>"Bad or good?"</p> + +<p>"Good, if making havoc of my nerve centres is any test."</p> + +<p>"Then you really liked him? I thought you didn't want to come."</p> + +<p>"I didn't. Nothing but a stern sense of duty brought me; but it also +brought its own reward. One hears such a voice only once a decade."</p> + +<p>Bobby Dane eyed her askance.</p> + +<p>"Sure this is yourself, Beatrix? I thought you scoffed at all baritones, +and only delighted in maudlin tenors and anticking sopranos. I have +hopes of you yet; but whence comes your conversion?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"From this man, Mr. ——." She referred to the programme in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Thayer," her cousin prompted. "Cotton Mather Thayer."</p> + +<p>Beatrix gasped.</p> + +<p>"Bobby! What a name for an artist!"</p> + +<p>"For a punster, you'd better say; but at least one can't doubt its +genuineness. If he had been going to assume a stage name, he would have +chosen something more romantic."</p> + +<p>"Who is he, and where did Mrs. Stanley accumulate him?"</p> + +<p>Bobby rolled his eyes expressively towards the portly, satin-clad figure +of his hostess.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stanley hunts every lion that comes to Manhattan Island. As a +rule, she catches only cubs; this is the exception which proves the +rule."</p> + +<p>"I haven't heard the name before."</p> + +<p>"No; Thayer is a brand-new lion, but fully grown. Of course, with that +name, his family tree sprouted in Massachusetts; but he has been in +Germany and Italy for years. He only landed, the third, and is to make +his formal début at the Lloyd Avalons's on the twentieth. Don't you want +to meet him?"</p> + +<p>"N—no. I am afraid it would be anticlimax."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. He doesn't indulge in speckled neckties and an +imperial. He is a man, as well as a singer."</p> + +<p>"You know him, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, as one knows any number of people. Lorimer has had him at the club +occasionally, and I have met him there."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>"Lorimer knew him well in Germany. Come and help burn incense before +him, and do try to say something rational. Those fellows must get deadly +sick of the inanities people talk when they are being introduced. If you +make a good impression, perhaps I'll bring him around, some Monday."</p> + +<p>"Wait till you see what impression he makes, Bobby. I'm not Mrs. +Stanley, you know, and I'm not stalking any lions."</p> + +<p>Even while he laughed at the sudden hauteur of her tone, he allowed his +glance to wander over her with manifest approval.</p> + +<p>"Good for you, Beatrix! But Thayer is a gentleman first of all, then an +artist. A cad always shows himself at a strange club; but Thayer passed +muster at The Critic, where even Lorimer isn't altogether popular."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" she demanded sharply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Difference in taste in jokes," her cousin replied evasively. "I only +spoke of it to show you that you were safe enough in knowing Thayer. +Lorimer is a good fellow; even good fellows have their foes."</p> + +<p>"But if Mr. Thayer hasn't—"</p> + +<p>"Thayer hasn't been here long enough to get them. Give him time, +Beatrix. Inside of six weeks, he will have every singer in New York +slandering him. There's nothing more lovable than the way musicians +stand by one another, when it's a case of fighting a successful rival."</p> + +<p>She laughed suddenly.</p> + +<p>"How do you know, Bobby? You're not a musician."</p> + +<p>"Heaven forfend! If I were, I should spend half my time on The Island, +doing sentence for battery and breach of the peace. I have known a few +musicians in my time, Beatrix, and I know their pleasant little ways."</p> + +<p>They had joined the large group gathered at the head of the music-room, +and were slowly working their way from the outer fringe to the focal +point. As they waited, now advancing a step, then halting again, Beatrix +listened in some scorn to the fugue of praise which rose about her, a +fugue composed chiefly of adjectives heaped in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> confusion about the +single, magical noun <i>temperament</i>. She shot a mischievous glance up at +her tall cousin.</p> + +<p>"Fancy any man having to live up to this sort of thing, Bobby! <i>Divine</i> +and <i>perfectly elegant</i> do not suggest the same set of attributes, and I +don't see how he can strike the golden mean between them. Somebody +really ought to coin a new word for such emergencies as this."</p> + +<p>Before her cousin could answer, the woman just ahead of them had buried +the singer's hand in her own pudgy clasp.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Thayer, that was such a pretty piece you sang last! It was a +German piece; wasn't it? It was just sweet!"</p> + +<p>And it was after such a prelude that Beatrix bowed in recognition of her +cousin's introduction. Even as she bowed, there came a swift realization +that she was facing no anticlimax. And yet the man before her was in no +wise the typical musician. Tall, so tall that Bobby Dane, five feet ten +in his stockings, seemed short beside him, well-dressed, well-groomed, +he looked far more like a prosperous, alert man of affairs than an +artist or a dreamer. Moreover, in spite of certain lines in his face, he +was absurdly boyish to have sung those great songs. He could know +nothing of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> real issues of fate with which he had been juggling, +could have no real conception of either hope or disappointment. +Doubtless he had developed his <i>Weltschmerz</i> mechanically, imitatively, +at so many marks or <i>lire</i> an hour.</p> + +<p>Beatrix had always been distressed by the flatness of her one-syllabled +name. It gained a new roundness now; and she raised her eyes, as Thayer +spoke it, to meet the gray ones above her. They were clear and steady +eyes, smiling, yet with a look in their depths which to her mind +accounted for the insistent, troubled note in his singing. The lines +about his shaven lips were firm, but mobile.</p> + +<p>Bobby eyed the two of them quizzically. Then he broke in upon the +tentative conversation which follows an introduction.</p> + +<p>"Pass, Beatrix! That's quite original. I told my cousin, Thayer, that if +she could hail you with a new adjective, I should present you as a +candidate for a dish of tea, some Monday."</p> + +<p>As usually happened with Bobby Dane's remarks, this proved the end of +any serious talk, and Beatrix laughed, as she responded,—</p> + +<p>"Please come alone, Mr. Thayer. My cousin monopolizes all the +conversation, when he is present."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And Miss Dane always demands a good listener. Like a conspirator, she +relies upon your silence, Thayer."</p> + +<p>"What a restful hostess!" Thayer answered lightly. Then, turning, he +laid a kindly hand on the arm of his accompanist. "Otto, I wish you to +meet Mr. Dane. Miss Dane, may I introduce my friend, Mr. Arlt?"</p> + +<p>It was done simply; but the boy blushed with sudden shyness before the +stately girl, whose fur collar alone had cost far more than his whole +year's expenses. Beatrix met him cordially, for she had seen him +standing ignored in his corner by the piano, and she liked the friendly +way in which the singer had included him in the trivial talk. It was not +until afterwards that she suddenly recalled the fact that she herself +and her cousin were apparently the only ones to whom Thayer had +introduced his companion. She pondered over the reason for this until, +as she slowly mounted the steps to her own door, she abruptly recurred +to the unanswered question which had been driven from her mind by the +afternoon's events.</p> + +<p>The old butler met her in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lorimer has just telephoned to you, Miss Beatrix. He can't come, +to-night, he says. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> horse stumbled and threw him just now, and his +ankle is sprained. It will be a few days before he can go out."</p> + +<p>And with utter thankfulness Beatrix accepted even this brief reprieve.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h2> + +<p>"Cast your bread upon the waters, and it will come floating back to you +in time to be fed out to the next man."</p> + +<p>"Bad for the next man's digestion, though!" Bobby Dane commented, as he +set down his empty cup. "You needn't offer me any of your second-hand +pabulum, Beatrix."</p> + +<p>"You probably will be in such dire straits that I shall offer you the +first chance at it, Bobby," she retorted.</p> + +<p>"Another cup of tea, and two pieces of lemon, please," Sally demanded. +"What is the particular appositeness of your remarks, Beatrix?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arlt and Mrs. Stanley. Also the conservation of philanthropic +energy."</p> + +<p>Sally stirred her tea with a protesting clatter of the spoon.</p> + +<p>"Beatrix, I am glad I didn't go to college. Your mind is appalling; your +language is more so. May I ask whether you are going into slumming?"</p> + +<p>"No. Worse."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"For the family credit, I must draw the line at the Salvation Army," +Bobby adjured her. "A poke bonnet and a tambourine wouldn't be a proper +fruitage for our family tree."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do, Beatrix?" Sally repeated. "It is something +uncanny, I know. I felt it in the air, and that was the reason I stayed +until everybody else had gone. I knew you wished to confess."</p> + +<p>"But I didn't."</p> + +<p>"Not even to ease your conscience?"</p> + +<p>"My conscience is perfectly easy."</p> + +<p>"But you said it was worse than slumming."</p> + +<p>"It is. Slumming is aristocratic and conservative; I am about to be +radical."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me it is spectacles and statistics," Bobby pleaded. "I abhor +statistical women; they are so absorbed in collating material that they +never listen to the point of even your best stories."</p> + +<p>"Not a statistic, I promise you, Bobby."</p> + +<p>"Nor a poke bonnet?"</p> + +<p>"No; my choice is for toques, not pokes. Do you know Mr. Arlt?"</p> + +<p>"Never heard of the gentleman." Bobby's tone expressed cheery +indifference, as he bent over to prod the fire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But you met him, Bobby."</p> + +<p>"It was in a crowd, then, and it doesn't signify that I've heard of him. +Who is he, Sally?"</p> + +<p>With the freedom born of intimacy, Sally was eating up her lemon rind, +and there was a momentary pause, while she shook her head. Beatrix +answered the question.</p> + +<p>"He is Mr. Thayer's accompanist, that little German who was with him at +Mrs. Stanley's."</p> + +<p>"Have you heard Thayer yet, Sally?" Bobby asked parenthetically.</p> + +<p>"No. I have heard about him till I am weary of his name, though, and +such a name! Cotton Mather Thayer!"</p> + +<p>"Did it ever occur to you the handicap of going through life as Bobby?" +inquired the owner of that name. "It is a handicap; but it is also a +distinct advantage. Nobody ever expects me to amount to anything. No +matter how much I fizzle, they'll say 'Oh, but it's only Bobby Dane!' +Now, Cotton Mather Thayer is bound to fill a niche in the—the—"</p> + +<p>"Lofty cathedral of fame reared by the ages." Sally helped him out of +his rhetorical abyss.</p> + +<p>"Thanks awfully; yes. And then Beatrix will scatter her water-soaked +breadcrumbs around him to coax the little sparrows to make their nests<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +in the crown of his hat and get free music lessons for their young in +exchange for keeping his head warm."</p> + +<p>Beatrix frowned; then she laughed. Bobby was incorrigible, and there was +no use in expecting seriousness from him. He and Sally were alike; +Beatrix was cast in a different mould. She could suffer and enjoy with +an intensity unknown to either of the others; yet she was close kin to +her cousin in her appreciation of his irresponsible fun, even though it +would never have occurred to her to originate it. Moreover, even if it +had occurred to her, it is doubtful whether she could have accomplished +it.</p> + +<p>"Who gets first bite at your bread, Beatrix?" Bobby asked encouragingly. +"Granted that Arlt, whoever he is, gets second nibble, who comes in +ahead?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stanley." In spite of herself, Beatrix laughed at the logical +application of her metaphor. Stout, energetic Mrs. Stanley was so like a +greedy young turkey snapping up the crumbs dropped from the hands of her +superiors.</p> + +<p>Sally raised her brows.</p> + +<p>"Knowing Mrs. Stanley's appetite, I only wonder that any of the loaves +and fishes should be left over," she drawled maliciously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stanley has her good points, Sally."</p> + +<p>Bobby interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Not a point. She is all built in parabolic curves. Why can't you be +accurate, Beatrix, as befits your higher education? You took conic +sections a year before I did."</p> + +<p>"All the more reason I should forget them sooner. Besides, haven't I +begged you not to allude to the fact that I am a year older than you?"</p> + +<p>"But is Mr. Thayer as great a singer as they say?" Sally asked, with +sudden irrelevancy.</p> + +<p>"Greater. He is almost perfectly satisfactory."</p> + +<p>"Not quite?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet; he will be, some day, if he can only have an unhappy love +affair," Beatrix answered placidly, as she rose from the tea table and +crossed to the open fire.</p> + +<p>"That is an humane speech."</p> + +<p>"Artistic, though. He needs just that to develop him. He strikes every +note but tenderness."</p> + +<p>"Tenderness is generally located at <i>C in Alt</i>, Beatrix. A baritone +can't soar to that height; you should be content when he growls defiance +and moans resignation."</p> + +<p>"Besides," Sally suggested; "it is quite within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> the limits of +possibility that Mr. Thayer might have a happy love affair. Would that +answer your purpose, Beatrix?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. It is his minor key that needs developing."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," Bobby added. "Artists are scheduled for the unhappy loves. +Therein lies the advantage of being merely a newspaper man."</p> + +<p>Sally looked up inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Just what is it that you do, Bobby? I know you have a desk and a +salary; but I've never been able to find out that you did anything but +put your heels on one and your fingers on the other."</p> + +<p>"That's because you aren't there to see."</p> + +<p>"No; but I have heard. Do you ever work, really work?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I work. I earn the jam to eat on my daily bread. I boxed the +devil's ears, this morning."</p> + +<p>"Luther <i>redivivus</i>! You and Beatrix will soon be great moral forces in +the metropolis. Beatrix, is he really presentable?"</p> + +<p>"Bobby, or the devil?"</p> + +<p>"Neither. Mr. Th—"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thayer," the old butler announced imperturbably, and the subject of +discussion came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> slowly across the great dusky room towards the circle +of light around the table.</p> + +<p>Even while she was suppressing her gasp of sheer embarrassment, Sally +admitted to herself that he was presentable, very presentable. His +manner was altogether free from the self-conscious graciousness of an +artist off-duty; moreover, he was very big, very comely, very much +stamped with the hall-mark of her own class. His eyes were steady; his +shoulders were broad, but his hands were slim. As for Sally Van Osdel, +she had one attribute of a great general; she knew how to beat a +dignified retreat from an awkward situation, and she it was who broke in +upon the little pause which followed the introductions.</p> + +<p>"Your entrance was most dramatic, Mr. Thayer, for your name was just +trembling upon our lips. Miss Dane has been asking us if we knew your +accompanist, Mr. Arlt."</p> + +<p>He turned to Beatrix.</p> + +<p>"Otto? What about him, Miss Dane?"</p> + +<p>"Only good. Miss Gannion was speaking to me about him, last night."</p> + +<p>"You know Miss Gannion?"</p> + +<p>"Who doesn't?"</p> + +<p>He laughed silently from between his close-shut teeth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That can be interpreted in two senses."</p> + +<p>"Not if you know Miss Gannion. She is of the salt of the earth."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear you say so. She is the one person in the city to whom +I brought an introduction. She was out when I called, so I am still a +good deal at sea in regard to her."</p> + +<p>A direct question would have been unpardonable; but Beatrix could see no +offence in the note of interrogation in his voice.</p> + +<p>"She is a dear little spinster of fifty, with endless interests and not +a hobby to her name, the most downright, practical person I have ever +known, and the most helpful to strangers and pilgrims in the city. It is +quite incidental that she is uncommonly rich and uncommonly homely. +Nobody ever stops to think about either fact."</p> + +<p>"And she has heard of Arlt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she hears of everybody. She has a great talent for putting young +men on their feet and teaching them to walk alone. In fact, she is a +perfect employment bureau for meritorious youth. Somebody wrote to her +that Mr. Arlt has genius and grit, and not a guinea to his name, and she +is trying to get him some engagements."</p> + +<p>"She asked you to help him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. At least, she spoke about him, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> asked me to keep my eyes open +and to say a good word for him, when I can. What does he want, Mr. +Thayer?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever he can get."</p> + +<p>"What does he need, then?"</p> + +<p>"Everything." Thayer's tone was grave.</p> + +<p>"At least, that is comprehensive, Beatrix," her cousin assured her. "He +may even be starved into eating your chloride of manna."</p> + +<p>She ignored the interruption.</p> + +<p>"And you have known him for some time, Mr. Thayer?"</p> + +<p>"Long enough to have no hesitation in vouching for him, both as a man +and as an artist." His tone was not unfriendly, yet it was of dignified +finality.</p> + +<p>"Then why the deuce hasn't the fellow arrived?" Bobby rose, as he spoke, +and planted his feet accurately on the middle pothook of the hearthrug.</p> + +<p>"Chiefly because art is long, and we are all too busy to wait for it to +display itself. Give him time," Sally suggested idly, for she was +becoming a little bored by the discussion.</p> + +<p>"Time is money, though. Perhaps a pension would do just as well."</p> + +<p>Thayer frowned involuntarily. To him, his art<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> was too sacred to admit +of any flippancy in discussing it. He turned still more directly to +Beatrix.</p> + +<p>"Arlt is a thoroughly good fellow, one you are safe in introducing +anywhere. He is only a boy, barely twenty; but he is one of the most +satisfactory pianists I have ever heard. I don't mean I haven't heard +better ones; but never one who has been more satisfying to my mood, +whatever it is. His technique is not perfect, and he lacks maturity; but +he has a trick of making people dissatisfied with other pianists and +anxious to hear him play the same programme."</p> + +<p>"And he will accompany?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es. Sometimes."</p> + +<p>Beatrix laughed.</p> + +<p>"I spare your modesty, Mr. Thayer. I think I understand. But really I +haven't much influence. If I can help him, though, you can count on my +doing it."</p> + +<p>"All he needs is a little start. As Miss Van Osdel says, New York is +moving too fast to wait for strangers to fall into step with the +procession."</p> + +<p>"He is a stranger, then?"</p> + +<p>"He came over with me." Thayer hesitated. "I may as well tell you a bit +about him," he went on. "It can't do any harm, and it may supple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>ment +Miss Gannion's story. He is that unhappy being, the youngest son of a +younger son, and he has more ancestors than money. His father ran away +to escape army service, and forgot to provide for his wife and children. +The children died, all but two, Otto and a sister eight years older. He +was half through his musical training, when she had a fall that crippled +her, and the boy had to give up study and take to teaching. For two +years, he fought a losing fight, giving lessons to stolid youngsters, +playing at cheap concerts wherever he could get an engagement, and all +the time slowly dropping deeper and deeper into debt. One night, he +fainted in the middle of the accompaniment to <i>The Erl-King</i>, and it +looked as if the King had claimed him. There were a couple of Americans +in the hall who had been watching him for weeks, and they began to +investigate the case. Arlt, it seems, hadn't eaten anything for two +days; and, just as he had started for the concert, he had received legal +notice that the next day his mother and sister would be turned into the +street, because the rent was unpaid."</p> + +<p>"And then?" Sally queried, as Thayer came to a full stop.</p> + +<p>"Then they took him out to supper," he replied prosaically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And then?" Sally persisted.</p> + +<p>Thayer spoke with some reluctance.</p> + +<p>"Then they found him an engagement that paid a better salary, and they +bullied him into accepting a little loan, until the first week's payday +came around."</p> + +<p>"That was so good of you!" Beatrix said impulsively.</p> + +<p>He raised his brows.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't the only American in Berlin at the time, Miss Dane."</p> + +<p>"No; you said there were two of you. But there is no use in your denying +that you were the one who sang <i>The Erl-King</i>."</p> + +<p>"Circumstantial evidence convicts you, Thayer," Bobby said, coming to +the support of his cousin. "You sang; you also fed him. Likewise, you +brought him to America. Then wherefore deny?"</p> + +<p>"There's no reason I should deny. I like Arlt, and for weeks I had been +trying to get him as accompanist, so I gained by the affair. The other +fellow didn't, though. He was no musician; but the case interested him. +He not only backed Arlt financially, but he hunted up the mother and +sister and did no end of nice things for them, the things that count: +rolling chairs and extract<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> of beef and all that stuff. He had nothing +to make by the transaction."</p> + +<p>"Were they properly grateful?" Bobby inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes, to the point of enthusiasm. The mother insisted upon doing his +mending all the next winter, and the sister embroidered him a pair of +huge antimacassars and a smoking-cap. It sounds funny; but it was grim, +earnest tragedy mixed with pathos. He did it all with such tact that the +poor creatures never half realized how for a fact they never came into +the middle of his life at all. Arlt realizes it, though. That is one of +the most pathetic phases of the whole situation. By the way, Dane, you +know the fellow, I think."</p> + +<p>"I wish I did." Beatrix spoke impetuously. "Plenty of people will give +generously, but not many of them are willing to give humanely."</p> + +<p>Thayer smiled.</p> + +<p>"Old Frau Arlt used to call him her <i>Lieber Sohn</i>, and fuss over him as +if he were in dire need of her motherly care. He took it just as it was +given. The two women lived too quietly to have heard of him. Otto never +told them the truth; but outside the house his deference made up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> for +the familiarity at home. It has been a pretty story to watch, and it has +meant a comfortable life for two half-starved women."</p> + +<p>"Who was the man?" Bobby asked idly.</p> + +<p>"Lorimer. Sidney Lorimer."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THREE" id="CHAPTER_THREE"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h2> + + +<p>Of course, as Bobby Dane had said, with such a name, Thayer's family +tree had sprouted in Massachusetts. His Puritanism was hereditary and +strong; it tempered the artistic side of his nature, but it could not +destroy it. In the musical sense of the word, Cotton Mather Thayer +possessed Temperament; but his Temperament was the battle-field where +two warring temperaments were at constant strife.</p> + +<p>In the year of grace sixteen hundred and thirty-five, Richard Thayer, +freeman, landed in America. From Plymouth Rock, he strode straight +towards a position of colonial fame. His children and his children's +children kept up the family tradition and name until one of them, of a +more theological bent than his cousins had been, annulled the custom of +his ancestors and named his oldest son for the grim divine, Cotton +Mather Thayer, and during the next one hundred and fifty years, Cotton +Mathers and Richards had flourished side by side among the Thayers of +eastern Massachu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>setts. They were strong men, one and all, quiet and +self-contained in years of peace, grim fighters in seasons of war, and +prominent citizens at all times, a godly, gritty, and prosperous race. +Of such is the greatness of New England.</p> + +<p>Their records, like the records of all good things, were slightly +monotonous. They were born into orderly nurseries; they were graduated +from the vicissitudes of teething and mumps into orderly, peaceful +adolescence. They invariably married the most suitable damsel of their +own class, and they passed from an orderly old age through an orderly +churchyard into a heaven which the imagination of their surviving kin +peopled with orderly ranks of angels, playing gilt harps in perfect +accord. Their artistic ideals were bounded by <i>Coronation</i> and the +pictures in <i>The New England Primer</i> and <i>Godey</i>. Blackberry shrub, to +their minds, was the medium of riotous dissipation.</p> + +<p>Under such fostering conditions, ancestral traits strengthened from +generation to generation, until the race of Puritan Thayers culminated +in one Cotton Mather who was born in the early decades of the last +century, a grim deacon, a shrewd lawyer, and the owner of two or three +ships which sailed from his own seaport town. Shrewd as he was, however, +his logic failed him at one point. When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> his first child, Cotton Mather +Thayer, was a tiny boy, the youngster was allowed and even invited to +toddle about the wharves, clinging to the paternal thumb. On the other +hand, when the boy Cotton was fourteen, he received a round dozen of +canings for lounging about among the shipping. The thirteenth caning was +one too many. It was more severe than the others, and it cracked the +long-strained situation. The caning occurred in his father's office, +after hours, one June night. The <i>Thankful</i> was booked to sail, the next +morning at eight. When, at eight-ten, it slipped down the harbor, it +bore away as cabin-boy and general drudge the stiff and sore, but +unrepentant sinner, Cotton Mather Thayer, age fourteen.</p> + +<p>His later adventures have little concern with the story of his son's +life. He sailed over many seas, he visited many lands, mellowing by +contact with many peoples the unyielding temper of his race. The +possibility of failure never once entered into his mind. The Thayers +always had succeeded, for they always had worked. In consequence, he +took it quite as a matter of course that, at twenty-three, he should be +commander of the <i>Presidenta</i>, stationed in the Baltic for a year of +chilly inaction. St. Petersburg was near, and St.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> Petersburg, as the +young commander found, held for him the focal point of the world, in the +person of the pretty daughter of one of the court musicians. Twelve +years later, while the <i>Presidenta</i> was stationed in the Mediterranean, +its young captain died, leaving behind him in Russia a fragile wife and +a little son who had inherited the name and character of the Thayers, +curiously mingled with the artistic, emotional temperament and the rare +musical ability of his mother's race.</p> + +<p>It was no common combination. Russian art and Puritan morals are equally +grim; yet the one yields to every passing emotion, the other is girded +up by unyielding strength. Throughout his little boyhood, the child's +nature seemed borne hither and thither by these two counter currents in +his blood, now passing days of quiet, sturdy self-control, now swept by +black gusts of passion which carried all things before them. Then, four +years after his father's death, there came two events into his life: his +mother's death, and the discovery that he had a voice. The one taught +him the meaning of utter, absolute loneliness, for the alien blood of +the Thayers had never been able to win many friends in the land of his +mother's kin. The other proved to be at once a rudder to guide him over +the uncharted future of his life, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> an outlet for the pent-up passion +within him. His voice was totally untrained, and as yet it broke into +all manner of distressing falsetto fragments. Nevertheless, it gave him +a cause for living, and it enabled him, the descendant of a taciturn +race, to give utterance to the doubts and questionings which accompanied +his growth to manhood. Bereft of his mother and without his voice, he +might easily have become an ascetic or a criminal.</p> + +<p>To a boy of sixteen, trained to a life of strict economy, his slight +income from his father's investments seemed enough for his needs, and he +felt a boyish disgust when, one day, word came to him that his +grandfather had died, leaving him the only heir to the large property +laid up by eight generations of Thayers. His grandfather had refused to +become reconciled to his son; then why should he assume post-mortem +friendship with his son's son? However, by the time he was launched into +German student-life, dividing his time fitfully between his university +and his music, young Cotton Mather was forced to admit that an ancestral +fortune was no despicable addition to the stock in trade of a man +starting in life. He only needed to watch the grinding existences of +some of his comrades to realize the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> value of money in shaping a broad +artistic career. Instead of wasting his gray matter over details of ways +and means, he could let that side of life take care of itself, while he +gave his whole attention to developing the best that was in his mind and +his voice.</p> + +<p>Of course, he was extravagant; of course, he learned, among other +things, some of the blacker lessons of the student world. However, the +Puritanism of his ancestors stood him in good stead. It enabled him to +come into close contact with the seamy side of life; but it decreed that +the friction should never leave a sore spot behind it. It only hardened +the fibre. When he ended his studies, he knew the world at its best and +at its worst, but with this distinction: the best was an integral part +of his life; the worst was an alien, a foe to be recognized and downed, +however often it should face him.</p> + +<p>From Göttingen, where he had met Lorimer casually, Thayer went to Berlin +to devote his time entirely to music. Lorimer joined him there, more +because he had nothing to call him back to America than because he had +anything to call him to Berlin. During the next winter, the two men, as +unlike as men could be, had shared a bachelor apartment, the one working +industri<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>ously, the other playing just as industriously. It was during +this winter that Lorimer had come into contact with the Arlts. It was +during this winter also that Thayer finally decided to give up his other +plans and make his profession centre in his voice. He had battled +against the idea with the fervor of a race to whom "the stage" offered +no distinction between vaudeville and grand opera, but inclined to the +characteristics of the one and the scope of the other. For years, he had +fought against the temptation; he yielded, one night, during the second +act of <i>Faust</i>, and, in after time, he could always identify the chord +which had punctuated his decision. Three hours later, he was studying +that fraction of Baedeker which concerns itself with Italy.</p> + +<p>He was in Italy for two years. Then he went back to Berlin for another +year of grinding work, of passing discouragements, and of ultimate +success. There had been many and many a day when his pluck had failed +him, when he had questioned whether his voice was really good, whether, +after all, it were possible to make an artist out of gritty Puritan +stock; whether, in fact, he was not a thing of fibre, rather than a man +of temperament. His progress was great; but his ideals kept pace with +it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was one dazzling June morning when he took his final lesson. He had +gone onward and upward until, for months, he had been in the hands of +the <i>maestro</i> universally acknowledged to be the dean of his art. The +<i>maestro</i> was an old man and chary of his words; yet even he was stirred +to enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"My son, it is time for you to go," he said, as he rose from the piano +and took Thayer's hands into his own fragile, elderly fingers. "I can +teach you nothing more. It is now for you to work out your own +reputation. Not much more of life is left in me; but, before it is +ended, I shall hear your name spoken, both often and with praise. While +I live, my house will hold a welcome to you. <i>Auf wiedersehen!</i>"</p> + +<p>As Thayer went out into the sunshine, the glitter and the brightness of +it all, of the day and of the future, dazzled him and made him afraid. +Then of a sudden the blood of the Thayers, in abeyance during those mad, +sad, glad years of study and of striving, asserted itself again. Obeying +its behest, he turned abruptly from the street where he was seeking the +impresario to whom his master had sent him. In that instant, he turned +his back for many a long month upon opera and upon all that followed in +its train.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>One clean, cold night in mid-February, Thayer came down the steps of his +club, where he had been dining with Bobby Dane. At the foot of the steps +he halted long enough to button his coat to the chin and pull his hat +over his eyes, preparatory to facing the cutting wind. Then, turning +southward, he went striding away down the Avenue with the vigorous, +alert tread of the well-fed, contented man. It was still early, so early +that the pavements were dotted with theatre-going groups. He strode +through and beyond them, along the lower end of the Avenue, and came +under the arch, standing in chill, austere dignity at the edge of the +wind-swept square. Over its fretted surface the electric lights shone +coldly, and the deserted benches beyond brought to Thayer, fresh from +the glow and good-fellowship of the club, a sudden depressing sense of +his own aloofness from his kind. The club and Bobby were incidental +points of contact, pleasant, but not permanent. Like the arch, he was +alone, outside the rushing life of the busy town, something to be +watched and commented upon, but never destined to be really in the heart +of things. Bobby was a part of it, and Bobby had held out to him a +welcoming hand. He had taken the hand, and had dropped it again. It was +of no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> use. He did not belong. The sensation was not a new one to him. +He had met it before and in many places. It came to him suddenly and +unbidden, and it lay, a chilly weight, over all his consciousness. It +always left him wondering whether he would ever become fully adjusted to +his environment, whether it would ever be possible for him to come into +perfect contact with his fellow-men.</p> + +<p>As if the depression had brought with it a physical chill, he shook his +broad shoulders and plunged his hands into the side pockets of his +overcoat. Then, facing westward, he went on for a block or two and +stopped at the door of a shabby boarding-house.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arlt?" he said to the maid, in brief interrogation.</p> + +<p>She nodded and stood aside to let him pass. Thayer's tread on the dim +stairway showed his familiarity with the place, as did the prompt +calling of his name which answered his knock.</p> + +<p>Without laying down his pipe, Arlt rose to greet his guest.</p> + +<p>"You were so late that I was afraid you were not coming."</p> + +<p>Thayer took off his fur-lined coat and tossed it into a chair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Haven't you learned that I always get around?" he asked. "I was dining +with a friend, and we took things lazily."</p> + +<p>"And now you expect to sing?" Arlt's accent was rebuking.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I walked down here to get myself into condition. How is it? Are +you feeling nervous over the prospect?"</p> + +<p>Arlt had seated himself at the grand piano which completely filled one +end of the dreary room. Now he drew a protesting arpeggio from the black +keys and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is a terrible woman, that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons! She was here +again, to-day, to tell me about the programme. What does she know of +music? She refuses the Haydn Variations and demands a Liszt Rhapsodie. +If you are not firm with her, she will end by making you sing <i>The Holy +City</i> with a flute obligato."</p> + +<p>Thayer laughed unfeelingly.</p> + +<p>"She is a Vandal, Arlt; but the world will be at her musicale, they tell +me; and you will find it a good place to make your bow to an American +public. Mrs. Dana told me, over in Berlin, that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons gave +the best private recitals in New York."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What does she know about music?" Arlt grumbled.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, apparently; but the new-rich must have some sort of a fad, if +they are to make themselves count for anything, and people will go to +hear good music, even when they know it is a mere social bribe. Hofman +could fill a Bowery dance-hall with the elect; you only have to lead +them to the latest architectural vagary on Fifth Avenue. They are bound +to be there, for, even while they scoff, they like to keep an eye on +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons for fear she may prove to be worth knowing after they +have snubbed her; so play your best. It may lead to other engagements to +come."</p> + +<p>"And the Liszt Rhapsodie?" he asked mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Bad, I admit."</p> + +<p>"It is detestable. The Rhapsodies are the forlorn hope of artists who +have failed on Beethoven."</p> + +<p>"Not so bad as that. Still, there's a way of escape. Announce to your +audience that, by request, you are changing the number from Liszt to +Haydn. I do request it most earnestly."</p> + +<p>The boy looked up in admiring relief.</p> + +<p>"How is it that such ideas come to you, Mr. Thayer?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My Yankee blood, Arlt. Now shall we run over my songs?"</p> + +<p>It was characteristic of Thayer that, in consenting to make his American +début at the recital of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, he had insisted upon the +condition that he should choose his own assisting artist. How Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons had heard of him in the first place was a mystery which he had +made no effort to solve. From the testimony of several members of the +American colony in Berlin, it appeared that all New York and half of +Boston had heard of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, who, for three or four seasons +past, had been using her really choice musicales as a species of knocker +upon the portal of New York society. By this time, she had passed the +portal and was disporting herself in the vestibule, with one toe resting +upon the sacred threshold. Socially, she was as yet impossible; but her +recitals had won the reputation of being among the choicest tidbits of +the season's musical feast, for she made up in money what she lacked in +artistic sense, and, thanks to her agent, she had been able to discover +certain new stars before they rose above the horizon. For this reason it +was a distinct honor, Thayer was told, to be bidden to sing for Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons, and therefore Thayer had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> promptly made up his mind that +Arlt also should have a hearing upon this occasion. The boy already had +decided to come to America. Thayer realized with regret how cold a +welcome the country of his own ancestors was accustomed to extend to +struggling young musicians. Arlt had genius; but he lacked both +influence and initiative. The fight would be a long one, and Arlt's +conquest would be at the expense of many a wound. Teutons are not +necessarily pachyderms, and Arlt was sensitive to a rare degree.</p> + +<p>As Arlt's fingers dropped from the keys at the close of <i>Valentine's</i> +song of farewell, Thayer laughed suddenly.</p> + +<p>"It is rather contrary to custom to be accompanied by the star of the +evening, Arlt. I suppose I ought to have hunted up somebody else; but +these other fellows make frightful work of my accompaniments. They hurry +till they get me out of breath, and then they take advantage of the +moment to drown me out. I'd like a baton, only I should beat the +accompanist with it, before I was half through a programme."</p> + +<p>The boy's color came.</p> + +<p>"When another man accompanies you, I shall be dead, or incapable," he +returned briefly. "I do not forget."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nor I. But do you also remember the last time we did this in Germany?"</p> + +<p>"At my home? To Katarina?"</p> + +<p>Thayer nodded.</p> + +<p>"It is my song, you know. I am superstitious about it."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lorimer was there, that night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that reminds me, Arlt, I heard, to-night, that Lorimer was +engaged."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to a Miss Dane. It is only just announced, to-day. I was dining +with her cousin and he told me."</p> + +<p>"She must be good. I hope she is also strong of character," the boy +said, with a curiously deliberate accent which seemed characteristic of +him. "He is a good man and a kind one; but he needs a steadying hand. I +shall write to the mother and Katarina."</p> + +<p>"Will they like the news?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Mr. Lorimer is their friend, and they will be glad of any +happiness which shall come to him. To the mother, he is like a son, for +she is simple-hearted and knows nothing of the world. To Katarina, he is +like a god."</p> + +<p>"But gods don't usually marry," Thayer suggested whimsically, as he took +up his coat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>However, Arlt was ready for him.</p> + +<p>"Zeus did, and Homer tells us how he quarrelled with his wife.'"</p> + +<p>"Lorimer never will quarrel; he is too easy-going. By the way, you met +Miss Dane at the Stanley recital. Do you remember her?"</p> + +<p>Arlt's lips straightened thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"A tall lady in brown furs, who knew how to praise without making a fool +of herself?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"That is the one. I should judge that Lorimer has been making a +systematic campaign ever since he met her, three months ago, and that, +after all, it came suddenly in the end. Dane was noncommittal; but I +think he doesn't like Lorimer any too well. Good-night, Arlt. We'll +rehearse again, Wednesday morning; meanwhile, stick to your Haydn." And +Thayer went away, out into the cold, crisp air, which greeted him now +with all its tonic force.</p> + +<p>Arlt's simple, boyish loyalty and lack of self-analysis always put him +into good-humor. It was as infectious as the jovial temper of Bobby +Dane, Thayer reflected enviously, with a sudden memory of the idle talk +over their dinner. Strange what had put him on his nerves afterwards! +Then his thoughts flew to Lorimer, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> he wondered how his old chum +would bear the harness of domestic living. Perhaps it was just as well +that no idea crossed his mind of how far his story told to Beatrix Dane, +the Monday before, had had a share in shaping the decision which was to +change the whole character of her life.</p> + +<p>The question of one's accountability for others is rarely an edifying +subject of meditation.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOUR" id="CHAPTER_FOUR"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h2> + +<p>"It isn't so easy to say airy nothings to an artist, when you know him +behind the scenes," Beatrix said, suddenly shifting the talk back to the +point of departure.</p> + +<p>"Talk philosophy, then," Bobby returned.</p> + +<p>"But I must say something to him, after he gets through singing; and now +that I have seen him, three or four times, I can't launch into a sea of +platitudes."</p> + +<p>"I thought women could always go to sea in a platitude. It is as leaky +as a sieve, and not half so likely to upset and leave one floating +without any support at all."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"Beware of Bobby, when he turns metaphorical! He suggests a second-hand +curio shop."</p> + +<p>Lorimer glanced up at her, with a whimsical smile twisting his lips.</p> + +<p>"Your own rhetoric isn't above reproach, Miss Van Osdel. But has it ever +occurred to you that Young America has abandoned its sieve for a man of +war? I met a callow junior from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> Harvard, the other day, and by way of +making polite conversation, I asked him to suggest a clever subject for +a debate. He promptly told me that at his eating club they had been +discussing the origins of morality."</p> + +<p>Bobby whistled, to the huge delight of the butler. That factotum +revelled in the pranks of "Master Bobby" who had upset his dignity at +least once a week for the past fifteen years.</p> + +<p>"In our time we took our pleasures less sadly, Lorimer. What are we all +coming to?"</p> + +<p>"To congenital senility."</p> + +<p>"That is nothing more nor less than the frugal trick of making both ends +meet," Sally interpolated.</p> + +<p>"But what shall I say to Mr. Thayer?" Beatrix reiterated.</p> + +<p>"That it is a pleasant evening."</p> + +<p>"That you hope he isn't very tired with singing so much," Bobby and +Sally suggested in the same breath.</p> + +<p>Beatrix made a little gesture of scorn.</p> + +<p>"It is your turn, Mr. Lorimer. You know him better than the rest of us. +What shall you say to him?"</p> + +<p>"I know him so well that I rarely talk to him about his singing," +Lorimer replied, with sudden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> gravity. "Thayer is too large a man to +smack his lips over sugar-plums. He knows exactly what I think of his +voice, that it is one of the best baritone voices I have ever heard. He +also knows that I am perfectly aware of the fact when he sings unusually +badly or unusually well. Under those conditions, there is no especial +need of our discussing the matter. One can have reservations with one's +friends, you know." As he spoke, his eyes met those of Beatrix, and a +smile lighted his gravity.</p> + +<p>At a first glance, Sidney Lorimer produced the impression of being a +remarkably handsome man. The second glance, while it strengthened the +impression, nevertheless set one wondering what had created it. His +figure, his features, his coloring were all good, yet they were in no +way remarkable. A wiry, nervous, clean-cut man, with brown hair and +eyes, a slim, straight nose, and a well-set head, he would have +commanded little attention had it not been for the nameless stamp set +upon him by his training at an English public-school. It is impossible +to analyze this stamp, yet it exists and insists upon recognition. +Political life had called the elder Lorimer to England, and he had +judged it better to take his only child with him and drop him into Eton +than to leave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> him in America and send him to St. Paul's. He did it as a +matter of convenience, not of theory; but when his boy was ready for a +Yale diploma, the father confessed to himself that he was pleased with +the result of the experiment. Young Lorimer would never be an important +factor in the world's development; but he was an uncommonly attractive +fellow, and could hold his own in any position where chance would be +likely to place him. Only his lower lip betrayed the fact that his +mother had been a woman of uncurbed nerves.</p> + +<p>It was the evening of the twentieth, and Lorimer was distinctly nervous. +He liked Arlt and was anxious for his success; but his anxiety for Arlt +was as nothing in comparison with that which he felt for Thayer, to whom +he gave the adoration that a weak man sometimes offers to one +immeasurably his superior. Probably Lorimer's whole life would contain +no better year than the one he had spent with Thayer in Berlin. Thayer's +influence was strongly good, and Lorimer was of plastic material. It is +doubtful whether Lorimer realized this influence; yet he was genuinely +delighted to have Thayer within easy reach once more, genuinely wishful +to have Thayer's American début such an unqualified success that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +hereafter he would regard New York as his professional home.</p> + +<p>Lorimer rarely was garrulous; he was unusually silent during the long +drive to the Lloyd Avalons's. It was his first introduction to the +pseudo-fashionable world, for his own family had been of conservative +stock, and Beatrix and Bobby had been the first of the Danes to break +down the barriers of their own exclusive set. To be sure, he realized +that in a city like New York it was quite possible for circles of equal +choiceness to exist tangent to each other, yet in mutual ignorance of +one another; but his years abroad in slower-moving countries had not +prepared him for the countless agile performers clambering up and down +over the social trapeze. In his father's day, society had stood on an +elevated platform and watched the performers as they played leap-frog on +the ground. The performers had been as agile then as now; but their +agility had been free from any danger of a tumble. Between the ground +and the platform, there is no place of permanent rest. One must keep +moving, or else be pushed to the ground.</p> + +<p>As a rule, people forgot that there was a Mr. Lloyd Avalons. He was a +little man with an imperial, and a total incapacity for telling the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +truth. In that, he was inferior to his wife in point of social +evolution, for she had learned, from certain episodes which still filled +her with mortification, that fibbing was bad form. To Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons, her husband was a mere cipher. Placed before her, he added +nothing to her value; placed after and in the background, he multiplied +her importance tenfold. There were certain privileges accruing to a +woman with a husband, certain immunities that followed in the train of +matrimony. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons was quite willing to include the word +<i>obey</i> in the marriage service; she had a distinct choice in regard to +whom it should refer.</p> + +<p>To-night, Lloyd Avalons stood slightly in the rear of the elbow of his +wife who, resplendent in pale gray velvet and emeralds, was welcoming +her guests on the threshold of the music-room. Her gray eyes were +shining with a greenish light that matched the emeralds, for her lips +were set in a conventional smile, and there must be some escape for her +delight, as she counted over the tale of guests and recognized +individuals of many a named species from the garden of society. All in +all, this was the best success she had as yet attained.</p> + +<p>She greeted Beatrix effusively, and cast a coy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> glance at Lorimer while +she murmured a few words of congratulation. Then she fell a victim to +one of Bobby's quibbles, and while she was struggling to see the point +of his joke, the others made their escape.</p> + +<p>"At least, the architect knew what he was about," Lorimer remarked to +Beatrix, as they took their seats. "Thayer can't complain of the +acoustic effects of the place."</p> + +<p>"When have you seen him?"</p> + +<p>"Just before dinner. He was in superb voice then, and a fairly good +mood."</p> + +<p>"Isn't he always?" she questioned idly, as she nodded to an acquaintance +in the next row of chairs.</p> + +<p>"Not always. As a rule, he is the best-tempered fellow in the world. +Once in a while, though, he wraps himself up in his dignity and stalks +about like an Indian brave in his best Navajo blanket. Nobody ever knows +what is the reason, nor when he will go off into a Mood. It makes him an +uncertain quantity. For my part, I would rather a man would swear and +get it over with." Lorimer spoke easily. Unlike Thayer, he never +collided with the angles of his own temperament.</p> + +<p>"What does it do to his singing?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Depends on one's taste. I like it, myself, as I like a high-flavored +cheese. People who pin their faith to Mendelssohn might be a little +over-powered. Fact is, there is a strange streak in Thayer's make-up. I +can't account for him at all."</p> + +<p>"What is the use of trying? Aren't one's friends immune from analysis?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care to try. I don't want to account for him; he is too large +for that. I wish you might know him; but you never will. He's not a +woman's man in the least."</p> + +<p>Beatrix was silent for a moment. Involuntarily she was making a swift +comparison of the way in which the two men spoke of each other. +Lorimer's praise had been full of half-suppressed reservations. Thayer +had made no reservations, he had scarcely uttered a word of praise, yet +his hastily-drawn picture of Lorimer's connection with the Arlts had +proved a determining factor in her life. It had been a new phase of +Lorimer's character which Thayer had presented. It had revealed him in a +new light and one infinitely more likable than any she had yet known. +The Lorimer she had met, had been fascinating and a bit snobbish. The +friend of the Arlts was altogether lovable. It takes greater tact and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +staying power to make friends outside one's social grade than in it. +People suspect the motives of those who are crossing the boundaries +between caste and caste; yet the Arlts had trusted Lorimer completely.</p> + +<p>Beatrix had remained thoughtful for some time after Thayer's departure. +Lorimer had called, that same night. His coming had been unexpected; it +had taken Beatrix off her guard. She had been unfeignedly glad to see +him, for his ten-days' absence from her life had been unprecedented in +their acquaintance. The world is wide, yet, owing to some strange law of +attraction, one invariably seems to meet the same people everywhere. +Beatrix had greeted Lorimer more eagerly than she had been aware. She +had tried in vain to keep the fact of the Forbes supper uppermost in her +mind. Instead, it slid into the background, and its place had been taken +by the thought of Lorimer's probable feelings when he received the +smoking cap from the hands of Katarina Arlt. And the evening had hurried +away from her. When it had gone, she had realized with a sudden shock +that her girlhood was ended. She was the plighted bride of Sidney +Lorimer, and, distrustful of her own mental grasp of the fact, she had +ruthlessly waked up her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> mother to tell her what had occurred. Later, +she had not understood the motive which had led her to her mother's +room. As a rule, she was self-reliant, and adjusted herself to a crisis +without caring to talk it over. For the once, however, she felt the need +of being strengthened by the enthusiastic delight of Mrs. Dane whose +sentimental hopes had centered in Lorimer from the hour of his +introduction to her only child.</p> + +<p>All this had passed in review through Beatrix's mind, and it seemed long +to her since Lorimer's last words, when he said,—</p> + +<p>"Don't think I am depreciating Thayer, Beatrix. He is one of the finest +fellows who ever came out of the Creator's hands. In his worst moods, he +is away ahead of most of the men one meets. Some day, I hope you may +know him for what he really is."</p> + +<p>There was true generosity underlying Lorimer's frank words. He was still +smarting from his contact with Thayer, that afternoon, for Thayer had +heard of a dinner at the club, on the previous night, and had spoken a +quiet warning. It was only such a warning as he had given, a dozen times +before; he knew just how Lorimer would resent it, then accept it, and it +would have made no difference to him, could he have foreseen that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> in +his resentment, Lorimer's words to Beatrix would be slightly tinged with +aloes. It is not certain that, foreseeing, he would have cared. Beatrix +was nothing to him; of Lorimer he was strangely fond.</p> + +<p>Beatrix had felt some curiosity as to the effect Thayer's voice might +have upon her. Familiarity in all truth does breed contempt, and a +second hearing often proves a disappointment. For Lorimer's sake, she +was anxious to enjoy the recital, and she drew a quick, nervous breath +as Thayer, followed by Arlt, came striding out across the little stage +with the same unconscious ease with which he had crossed her parlor, the +week before. As he waited for Arlt to seat himself, he glanced about the +room, his practised eye measuring its size and the probable nature of +his audience. For an instant, his glance rested upon Beatrix and +Lorimer, and he gave a slight smile of recognition. Then his shoulders +straightened and he came to attention, as Arlt struck the opening chord +of his accompaniment.</p> + +<p>He had chosen to begin his programme, that night, with the <i>Infelice</i> +for, in spite of its Verdiism, it had been a favorite of his old master +in Berlin. Before he had sung a dozen notes, Beatrix, bending forward, +was listening with parted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> lips and flushing cheeks. Of Thayer as a man +who had dallied with one of her cups of tea, she took no account; but +his voice, sweet and flexible, was tugging at her nerves and setting +them vibrating with its note of passionate sadness. Then, gathering +power and intensity, it swept its hearers along upon its furious +tempest; yet, as she listened, Beatrix felt herself inspired for, +underneath it all, there was the same throbbing, insistent note which +seemed to assure her that the singer had hoped and lost and fought and +conquered, that he knew all about it, himself.</p> + +<p>Lorimer nodded contentedly at the stage, as Thayer ended his song.</p> + +<p>"That's all right; but they would better save their strength, for he +never gives an encore for the first number. What do you think of Thayer +now, Beatrix?"</p> + +<p>She caught her breath sharply.</p> + +<p>"That I should be a better woman, if I could hear him sing often."</p> + +<p>"There's something in what you say. He makes me feel it, too. I never +have heard him sing better, though he always does that song well. He +told me once that he felt possessed with the spirit of his own +grandfather, whenever he started it. From all signs, his grandfather +must have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> been an intolerable old person to get on with, if he could +rage in that fashion."</p> + +<p>"Possibly he had occasion." Beatrix forced herself to speak lightly, +though it was an effort for her to resume the accent and manner which +befitted the place.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. He was a Russian musician with a young wife. Now for the +Schubert group! Thayer's reputation is made, though; he can sing through +his nose now, and they will think it a beautiful manifestation of +individual genius. I only hope that Arlt will do one tenth as well."</p> + +<p>It proved that Arlt did fully six tenths as well, and was applauded to +the echo. To the undiscerning ear, he won even more than his share of +applause; but Beatrix, her nerves still tense from <i>The Erl-King</i>, felt +a difference in the quality of the welcome to the two musicians. The +critical few were impartial, and in the case of Arlt they led a wavering +fugue of the uncritical many. Arlt was young, small and insignificant. +His tailor was not an artist, and Arlt was too palpably conscious that +his coat tails demanded respectful care. Society applauded Arlt with +punctilious courtesy; but it promptly took Thayer to its bosom and +caressed him with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Late in the evening, Beatrix brought her father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> to the corner where +Thayer, with Arlt beside him, was still holding a sort of court, and the +four of them were talking quietly when Mrs. Stanley came pushing her way +towards them.</p> + +<p>"I must add my word of congratulation, Mr. Thayer," she said, as she +graciously offered him a pudgy bundle of white kid fingers. "You have +made a wonderful success, and it won't be long before you have New York +at your feet."</p> + +<p>Thayer glanced down at his patent leather shoes.</p> + +<p>"It would be a good deal in the way, Mrs. Stanley. Let us hope it will +stay where it belongs," he answered gravely.</p> + +<p>"How ungrateful you artists are! But I shall always be so glad and proud +to think that your first song in New York was in my house."</p> + +<p>"But it wasn't."</p> + +<p>Her face fell.</p> + +<p>"I thought—Wasn't that your first recital? I am sure you said—"</p> + +<p>His smile went no further than his lips, for his clear gray eyes +appeared to be taking her mental and spiritual measure, with some little +disappointment at the result.</p> + +<p>"It was my first recital, Mrs. Stanley; but not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> my first song. I sang +German folk songs to Arlt's landlady, half the afternoon before. You +remember Mr. Arlt, I think."</p> + +<p>She glanced around with a carelessness which ignored the hand that the +boy shyly extended towards her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, very pleased," she said vaguely. Then, with a resumption of +her former manner, she turned back to Thayer. "And I thought you +promised to drop in for a cup of tea, some Thursday, Mr. Thayer."</p> + +<p>Beatrix was deaf to his answer. She had turned to Arlt who, scarlet with +hurt and anger, stood alone in his corner by the piano.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arlt," she said gayly; "it is very warm here, and I know where they +keep the frappé. Shall we leave my father here, and run off in search of +some goodies? You ought to be hungry, after playing for two hours. +Come!"</p> + +<p>And Arlt, surprised at the sudden winning intonations which had crept +into her voice, dodged around the portly back of Mrs. Stanley and +followed Beatrix out of the room. For the moment, the haughty woman had +changed to a jovial, friendly girl, no more awe-inspiring than Katarina, +in spite of her wonderful gown and the fluffy white thing in her hair; +and the artist, in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> turn, changed into a normal hungry boy, as he +followed her away.</p> + +<p>So absorbed were they in each other that they failed to see Bobby Dane +who met them upon the threshold, on his way to join the group they had +just left.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, Thayer; but can I speak to you for a moment?" he said +abruptly.</p> + +<p>His uncle turned to Mrs. Stanley with old-fashioned pomposity.</p> + +<p>"May I have the pleasure of taking you to the dining-room?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Dane?" Thayer asked, as soon as they were alone, for +Bobby's face showed that something was amiss.</p> + +<p>"It's Lorimer in the smoking-room. That beast of a Lloyd Avalons has +opened a perfect bar in there, and—and Lorimer is making a bit of a cad +of himself," Bobby confessed reluctantly. "I tried to get him away; but +he wouldn't come, and I thought perhaps you could start him. It's not +that he is drunk, only he is talking rather too much, and I want to get +him off before Beatrix gets wind of it. You know girls—"</p> + +<p>"I know," Thayer assented gravely. "I'll see what I can do with him."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIVE" id="CHAPTER_FIVE"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h2> + +<p>"You musicians make me deadly weary," Bobby proclaimed, from his +favorite rostrum of the hearthrug.</p> + +<p>"Is that the reason you are trying to sit on them, Bobby?" his cousin +asked. "You'll find an easy chair just as restful to you and a good deal +more so to the musician."</p> + +<p>Bobby waved her remark aside.</p> + +<p>"Don't interrupt me, Beatrix. I have things I wish to say."</p> + +<p>"Very likely; but it is barely possible that somebody else also may have +things he wishes to say, and can't, because you talk so much."</p> + +<p>"Sally is busy eating bonbons, and Thayer would much better wait till I +get through his indictment. He'll need all his voice to defend himself."</p> + +<p>Sally glanced up.</p> + +<p>"Go on, Bobby," she said encouragingly. "The sooner it is over, the +better."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Then I have the floor. Thayer, I never believe in talking +about people behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> their backs, so I look you squarely in the eye and +ask you if you ever realize that you don't amount to much, after all."</p> + +<p>"Who told you?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody. I evolved it."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you were a critic."</p> + +<p>"I'm not, nor yet an interpreting artist. I create."</p> + +<p>"What, I should like to know!" This was from Sally.</p> + +<p>"Scareheads. I do them. If that's not creating, I should like to know +what is. They never have any connection with facts."</p> + +<p>"What is your grievance?" Thayer asked languidly.</p> + +<p>"I was just getting to that. As I say, I create. You only interpret. I +don't know as it counts that you don't try to interpret my scareheads, +though some of them would make stunning fugues. Take the last one, for +instance: <i>Billions at Stake: Potato Corner in Prospect</i>. You could work +up something fine from that, Thayer. Think of the chest tones you could +throw into the single word <i>Potato</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Bobby, you are growing discursive," his cousin reminded him.</p> + +<p>"No; it is only my rhetorical method. I shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> bring you up with a round +turn, before you know it. Well, granted that we represent the two +classes, the creative and the interpretive, which is the greater?"</p> + +<p>"How can we tell, unless you stand back to back?" Sally inquired.</p> + +<p>But by this time, Bobby was fairly launched.</p> + +<p>"The fact is, you singers and players have a smug little fashion of +forgetting that there is a composer back of you. You don't sing +extempore, Thayer, make up the song as you go along. You're nothing more +than a species of elocutionist, you know, trying to show the people who +weren't on the spot what the composer really did when he created the +thing."</p> + +<p>"Animated phonograph records, in short?" Thayer suggested.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you choose to call it that. Of course you count for something, +else every composer could make a set of records and dispense with his +interpreting artist once for all. But you fellows honestly do make an +awful fuss about yourselves; now don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Bobby!" Beatrix protested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; but I'm not meaning anything personal," Bobby responded +amicably. "We know that Thayer's voice is beyond all odds the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> best we +have heard for a three years. How do you do it, Thayer? You look as calm +as a Dutch dolly; but you manage to tear us all to bits. Even I felt +sanctified at your recital, and Miss Van Osdel's lashes were freighted +with unshed tears."</p> + +<p>"That must be one of your next week's scareheads," she objected. "I +never cry in public where there are electric lights, Mr. Thayer; it's +horribly unbecoming to most women. But I did have to say a nonsense +rhyme over to myself, to keep steady."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I taught you that trick," Beatrix asserted suddenly. "Lear is very +soothing in an emotional crisis. <i>The Rubáiyát</i> for gooseflesh and Lear +for tears is my rule. <i>The Jumblies</i> carried me safely through the fifth +act of <i>Cyrano</i>. But go on, Bobby. We are nearly ready to change the +subject."</p> + +<p>"Now take that recital of yours," Bobby pursued meditatively. "You were +there to interpret Schubert and Franz and those fellows; but nobody is +talking about Schubert and Franz, to-day. It is all Thayer, Cotton +Mather Thayer, Baritone. It's all right enough. You did them awfully +well; but there's the Them in the background, and it's not decent to +forget Them."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thayer laughed good-naturedly. It was impossible to take offence at the +mock seriousness of Bobby's harangue. Furthermore, it held its own grain +of truth, even though the grain was buried in an infinite amount of +chaff.</p> + +<p>"I do occasionally remember that there was a composer," he suggested; +"and, in case of the dead ones, you need somebody to sing them."</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," Bobby replied grudgingly; "and in case of the live ones, too, +sometimes. I have an idea that you make a good deal better noise out of +it than most of these old duffers would do. It is only that you take all +the glory for the whole business. The newsboys on the street corners +have no right to take the credit for my scareheads."</p> + +<p>"They are a self-respecting race, Bobby; they don't want to."</p> + +<p>"How unkind of you, Sally! But the cases are analogous. And my final +point, aside from professional jealousy, is the economy of time. You +grub longer over learning to sing a song than it takes the composer to +write it, and, when you're through, you've only reproduced somebody +else's ideas. Why can't you be original? Next time you feel musically +inclined, just say to yourself, 'Go to, now! Let us create!' It won't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +take a bit longer, and really it's not hard to do. I know, because, you +see, I do it."</p> + +<p>"Bravo, Bobby! I am delighted to hear that you ever do anything."</p> + +<p>At the new voice, Bobby whirled around and bowed himself into a right +angle, while Beatrix rose and crossed the room to greet the guest.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gannion! What joy to see you!"</p> + +<p>Thayer's Russian blood received swift impressions; his Puritanism made +him weigh and measure with careful deliberation. Now, as he bowed in +acknowledgment of the introduction, he was conscious that in Margaret +Gannion he was meeting a woman who would bear either test. She seemed to +him one of the most strongly individual women he had ever met; yet at +the same time he had a comfortable sense of an infinite number of points +of mental contact. Later, he was destined to learn that this sense was +not imparted to himself alone. Margaret Gannion was tangent to many +lives.</p> + +<p>"What is the discussion?" she inquired, as she seated herself.</p> + +<p>"No discussion at all, Miss Gannion. Bobby is doing a monologue on +music, and the rest of us can't get a word in edgewise."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have you joined the ranks of the musicians, Bobby?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, or the angels," Sally responded for him. "Nothing else could have +such a fatal facility for harping on one string."</p> + +<p>"I was so sorry to lose your recital, Mr. Thayer," Miss Gannion said, +after a while, as she turned her steady brown eyes on the young man. "I +was in Boston, that week, and I am told that I missed one of the treats +of the season. When am I to have another chance of hearing you?"</p> + +<p>Thayer hesitated for a moment, while his gray eyes met the brown ones +that seemed to be taking his mental measure. Apparently both were +satisfied with what they saw, for they exchanged a smile of sudden +understanding. Then Thayer's face grew grave.</p> + +<p>"Whenever you wish," he replied quietly.</p> + +<p>"Does that mean you will sing to me, myself? I should never have dared +hope for that."</p> + +<p>"Why not? That is, if you will let me bring Arlt with me. I dislike to +force him upon people; but he is the only accompanist I really enjoy."</p> + +<p>Beatrix looked up with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"You never asked if you might bring him here, Mr. Thayer."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he rose.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>"May I take that as a hint, Miss Dane? I can play a few accompaniments +after a fashion." And, without waiting for the response which was sure +to come, he crossed the room to the piano.</p> + +<p>He sang Schubert's <i>Haiden Röslein</i> and an American song or two. The +hush over the room deepened, as the last words fell on the stillness,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Oh barren gain! Oh bitter loss!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To kiss the cross—"</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And, in the midst of the stillness, he rose and quietly returned to his +old place by the fire.</p> + +<p>It was long before anyone spoke. Then even Miss Gannion's level voice +jarred upon the silence.</p> + +<p>"You have a wonderful gift in your keeping, Mr. Thayer," was all she +said.</p> + +<p>But Beatrix was silent, her eyes fixed on the glowing coals. At length +she roused herself with an effort. Reverie was not permissible for a +hostess on her reception day. She came out of hers, to find that the +conversation had broken into duets. At one side of the table, Bobby and +Sally were sparring vivaciously; at the other, Miss Gannion and Thayer +had fallen into quiet talk about certain common friends and about the +simplest method of helping Arlt to gain the professional recognition he +deserved and needed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm not potent at all," Miss Gannion said regretfully. "I only know +people who are, and they are not always receptive in their minds. Still, +I may be able to do something, and he made a good impression at Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons's recital. In the meantime, bring him to my home, some +evening soon. Friday is my day; but, if you don't mind—"</p> + +<p>Thayer understood her.</p> + +<p>"Arlt will like it a great deal better, and so shall I. He is a shy +fellow, and he never shows at his best, when too many people are about."</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion's face betrayed her relief. She had not meant to seem +inhospitable; neither had she desired apparently to be scheming for a +free recital. It was a precarious matter, this establishing social +relations with a really great artist who had just expressed his +willingness to sing in private life. Miss Gannion's acquaintance was +large and of many lines; but Thayer was a new species to her, and she +had felt somewhat at a loss how to treat him, as artist or as mere man. +Thayer's answer inclined her to the latter alternative.</p> + +<p>"What about Saturday, then?" she asked. "I shall be at home, that +night."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Please ask me, Miss Gannion," Bobby entreated.</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No; you are too much in evidence, Bobby. You would distract my mind +from Mr. Arlt, and this is his party, you know. Even Mr. Thayer is +subordinate. But, Beatrix child, where is Mr. Lorimer? I thought surely +I should find him here, to-day. I've not congratulated him yet. That was +one thing that brought me here."</p> + +<p>Beatrix flushed a little.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lorimer was called to Washington, last Thursday," she answered so +evenly that no one would have suspected the wondering annoyance which +his hasty note of explanation had caused her.</p> + +<p>"Then he was here for your recital." Miss Gannion turned back to Thayer +once more. "Didn't someone tell me you were old friends, Mr. Thayer? It +must have been a very exhilarating night for him, this American début of +yours."</p> + +<p>For the space of a minute, out of her four hearers, three were holding +their breath. Under the promise of the strictest secrecy, Bobby had +confided to Sally the story of the scene in the smoking-room; and, like +two conspirators, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> had spent a long evening in stealthy discussion +of the best way to keep the matter from the ears of Beatrix. Sally liked +Lorimer; Bobby detested him, yet to neither of them had the matter +seemed of quite sufficient importance to justify a broken engagement, +and they were too well acquainted with the strict code of Beatrix Dane +to doubt what would be the outcome of the affair, if the facts were to +reach her ears. Sally was less mature, less aware of the danger inherent +in the situation, less strong in her condemnation of what she termed +"friskiness." Bobby, with a shrug of his shoulders, admitted that a man +should not be condemned for a first offence, that there was plenty of +time to watch for a repetition of the affair, to warn Beatrix then and +to allow her to take her own course as seemed good to her. Meanwhile, +there was no use in disturbing her for nothing. It might be a single +slip, such as all men are liable to make. Of course, as Sally argued, +Lorimer had been under strong excitement, that evening, partly by reason +of his own newly-announced engagement, partly by reason of the brilliant +success of his friend. Lloyd Avalons was just the man to take advantage +of such a situation, and to think it a huge piece of humorous +hospitality to throw Lorimer off his guard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> Lloyd Avalons had never +joined the camp of the prohibitionists, himself, and he saw no reason +for staying the appetites of his guests. To his mind, that Sidney +Lorimer could drink too much wine in his house presupposed a certain +intimacy. At least, if the incident were to be mentioned, their names +were bound to be bracketed with each other. Like his wife, Lloyd Avalons +possessed his social ambitions.</p> + +<p>In the most accurate use of the words, Lorimer had not been drunk, only +intoxicated. When Thayer, with Bobby at his side, had appeared in the +door of the smoking-room, Lorimer had been more flushed, more garrulous +than was his wont, more inclined to the French doctrine of equality and +fraternity. In some moods, he would not have tolerated the arm of Lloyd +Avalons which now rested across the back of his chair.</p> + +<p>The scene lasted only for an instant. Thayer went into the room, +accepted a dozen hot hands whose owners were trying rather incoherently +to congratulate him upon his success, waved aside the wine offered him, +and, with a word of excuse, bent down and spoke quietly to Lorimer.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, Mr. Avalons," he said shortly; "but I have a message for +Mr. Lorimer. He is needed on business, and I shall have to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> him +away. Please give my good-night to Mrs. Avalons. My cab is waiting, and +I can set Lorimer down at his club." And, with a bow, he had left the +room, with Lorimer sullenly following at his heels.</p> + +<p>In Lorimer's room, Thayer broke the silence which had lasted during +their drive along the brilliantly-lighted Avenue. He had watched his +companion's face keenly and with an understanding born of similar +scenes, and he knew it would not be well to use many words. However, as +he was leaving Lorimer, he turned back.</p> + +<p>"This is once too often, Lorimer," he said briefly. "You've somebody +besides yourself to think of now. If I were in your place, I would have +important business call me to Washington, in the morning, and I would +stay down there for a few days. It will give you time to think things +over, and find out just where you stand."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIX" id="CHAPTER_SIX"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h2> + +<p>Miss Gannion nestled luxuriously back into the depths of her easy chair.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Mr. Thayer, it is a very wonderful experience, this having +a species of court musician?"</p> + +<p>He laughed the silent laugh she liked so well. It came from between +close-shut teeth; but it lighted his whole face.</p> + +<p>"As wonderful as it is to have a good listener who always understands +and rarely praises?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Under her thin, middle-aged skin, the flush rose to her cheeks, turning +them to the dainty likeness of youth.</p> + +<p>"You say very pleasant things."</p> + +<p>"True ones. If this keeps on, I shall begin using you as critic for all +my new songs."</p> + +<p>"Like the fabled dog? I wish you would. But, truly, I am not joking. You +are quite spoiling me for my usual diet of recitals. Do you realize +that, for the past two months, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> have sung to me on an average of two +hours a week?"</p> + +<p>Thayer smiled contentedly down at her, as he sat by the piano, with one +muscular arm thrown across the rack.</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, except that people say you are refusing engagements."</p> + +<p>"A fellow must have a little time to enjoy his friends," he returned +coolly. "I can't be expected to sing, six nights a week."</p> + +<p>"Your logic betrays your artistic nature. You have sung at five +recitals, this week. This is the sixth night; but you've not been +silent."</p> + +<p>"You know you wanted to hear <i>Faust</i> sung again."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and so did Mrs. Stanley want you to sing at her house."</p> + +<p>He looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>"Who told you?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arlt."</p> + +<p>"Arlt shouldn't tell tales. But I had three good reasons for refusing: I +don't like Mrs. Stanley; she doesn't treat Arlt as well as she treats +her pug dog, and moreover you had asked me to dinner. I never sing after +a good dinner."</p> + +<p>"But you mustn't refuse engagements."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I didn't. I kept one."</p> + +<p>"Engagements to sing, I mean. You seem to forget that you are a star."</p> + +<p>"All the more reason I should stop twinkling now and then. I can't be on +duty, the whole time. Besides, Miss Gannion," he rose from the piano and +came forward to her side; "we can't give out, all the time. We must stop +occasionally to take something in, else our mental fuel runs low. I +wonder if you realize that this is the one place in New York City where +I can be entirely off my guard, entirely at home. A place like this +means a good deal to an isolated man."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Most people forget that a public singer has a private personality," he +went on thoughtfully. "We are supposed to divide our time into even +thirds, practising, singing and receiving compliments. It gets to be a +positive delight to discuss the weather and the fashion in neckties."</p> + +<p>"And to sing by the hour for your friends?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"It is our easiest way of speaking to them."</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>"But, on the other hand, you are demoralizing me completely. You have no +idea what empty, formal affairs recitals seem to me now; they are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> so +impersonal. I feel like grumbling, because I can't talk over each item +of the programme with the one who does it. I said something of the sort +to Miss Dane, the other day; but she told me she always dreaded the +sound of a speaking voice after one of your songs."</p> + +<p>"She might have a species of choral service evolved for social use," +Thayer suggested dryly. "The Gregorian tones would lend dignity even to +conventionalities, and they are quite within the powers of any amateur."</p> + +<p>There was an interval of silence which Miss Gannion employed in bringing +herself back to the physical world around her. Thayer's singing always +swayed her profoundly; it gave her the impression of the ultimate +satisfaction of a wish which had haunted her whole life. During the past +two months, she and Thayer had established relations of cordial +friendship. They had met frequently in the world which already was +clamorous for Thayer's appearing, and Thayer was a frequent guest at +Miss Gannion's home. He always sang to her; it had become so much a +matter of routine that now he never waited for an invitation. Once +seated at the piano, talking and singing by turns, she allowed him to +follow out the bent of his mood; but, wherever it led him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> she was +always conscious of the insistent, throbbing note which told her that, +underneath his self-control, there pulsed a fiery nature which was +curbed, but not yet tamed, that the day might come when the Puritan +would meet the Russian face to face, and the Russian would be dominant, +if only for one brief hour. And then? Often as she asked herself the +question, Margaret Gannion never swerved from her original answer. In +the end, the Puritan would rule. No man could so dominate others and +fail to dominate himself.</p> + +<p>Thayer, meanwhile, had risen and was thoughtfully pacing the room. Miss +Gannion shook off the last of her reverie and turned to watch him.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mr. Thayer?" she inquired suddenly.</p> + +<p>He came back to the fire and, deliberately moving the trinkets on the +mantel, made a place for his elbow. Then he hesitated, with his clear, +deep-set eyes resting on her face.</p> + +<p>"I think I am going to ask your advice," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Or my approval. It amounts to the same thing in a man."</p> + +<p>It was a direct challenge, and it was made with deliberate intention. +Accustomed as she was to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> the semi-imaginary mental crises of +struggling, strenuous youth, she yet shrank from the intentness of +Thayer's mood.</p> + +<p>He ignored the challenge.</p> + +<p>"No; it is advice whether to act at all. Later, when I have acted, it +will be time to demand your approval."</p> + +<p>"But you may not like my advice."</p> + +<p>"Very possibly. I am not binding myself to follow it."</p> + +<p>Her color came again this time not altogether from pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you ask it?"</p> + +<p>"Because I need fresh light on the subject. As often as I go over it, I +find myself in a mental blind alley, and I am hoping that, if I talk it +over with you, I shall clear up my ideas and perhaps get some new ones."</p> + +<p>His tone was dispassionate, yet kindly. With a pang, Miss Gannion +admitted to herself the futility of her ever hoping to gain so +impersonal an attitude. She was intensely feminine, which is to say, +intensely subjective. Talking to Thayer in his present mood gave her the +feeling that unexpectedly she had collided with an iceberg. Glittering +coldness is an admirable surface to watch; but not an altogether +comfortable one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> upon which to rest. The touch set her to stinging, +although she realized that the sting was out of all proportion to the +touch. She was silent, and Thayer went on,—</p> + +<p>"You know the people, one of them much better than I do."</p> + +<p>"Then it is not about yourself?"</p> + +<p>Thayer shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I rarely ask help in solving my own problems," he replied. Then, as he +saw her face, he suddenly realized that he had hurt her in some unknown +fashion. "That sounds rather brutal," he added; "but, if you will think +it over a bit, you will see it is wise. I don't believe in wasting +words, and there is no real use in talking some things over. A man knows +he can't state his own problem impartially to someone else, so of course +he isn't going to trust someone else's solution of the problem."</p> + +<p>Her smile came back again.</p> + +<p>"No," she assented; "but there is a certain comfort in talking things +over."</p> + +<p>"Not for me. If I have anything to do, I grit my teeth and do it, and +waste as little thought upon it as possible. Iteration makes good into a +bore. It is best to let it alone. And of bad, the less said, the better, +that is, when it is a matter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> of one's own personality. But now I want +to talk about Miss Dane."</p> + +<p>"Beatrix?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have felt anxious about her lately, and I haven't known whether +to keep still, or to speak. It all seems a good deal like meddling, and +I really know her so little."</p> + +<p>It was unlike his usual directness to wander on in this fashion, and +Miss Gannion wondered. She started to speak; then she thought better of +it and leaned back in her chair. The ticking of the clock and the +snapping of the fire mingled in a staccato duet. A stick burned in two +and fell apart, with tiny, torch-like flames dancing on its upturned +ends. Methodically Thayer bent over and piled up the embers. Then he +spoke again.</p> + +<p>"And so I thought I would speak to you about it. You have known Miss +Dane always, and you know New York and how it looks at such things. I +imagine you take it more seriously, here in America. It is serious, God +knows, and yet it may not amount to anything."</p> + +<p>Margaret Gannion straightened up and spoke with a sudden assumption of +dignity which seemed to add inches to her moral and physical stature.</p> + +<p>"To what are you referring, Mr. Thayer?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. I thought you knew. I am talking about Lorimer."</p> + +<p>"What about him?"</p> + +<p>Man as he was, Thayer flinched under her keen eyes. All at once, he +realized that Margaret Gannion included among her friends Beatrix Dane, +and that it was Margaret Gannion's habit to fight for her friends.</p> + +<p>"I had hoped you would understand without my putting it into so many +words. Lorimer has been my friend for years, and it seems rather beastly +to begin talking him over; but—"</p> + +<p>"But?" Miss Gannion's tone was as hard and ringing as steel.</p> + +<p>"But he sometimes takes a little more wine than is altogether wise," +Thayer replied, with brief directness.</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion dropped back in her chair.</p> + +<p>"Does—does he get—drunk?" she questioned sharply.</p> + +<p>"No. That is too strong a word. He is imprudent, foolish. Still, one +never knows what may come."</p> + +<p>"Poor Beatrix!" Miss Gannion said softly.</p> + +<p>Thayer faced her again.</p> + +<p>"Understand me, Miss Gannion; I am not doing this for love of gossip. +Miss Dane is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> nothing to me, and I like Lorimer immensely. But there is +a good deal at stake, and I am not sure how much I ought to leave to +chance. Lorimer is one of the most lovable fellows in the world, +generous and loyal; but he is weak. He was born so; I fancy it is in the +blood. If Miss Dane is strong enough and has tact, perhaps she can hold +him steady. He can't be driven an inch; but he can be led a long way."</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion brushed her hair away from her face with an odd, bewildered +gesture.</p> + +<p>"Wait," she said breathlessly. "I love Beatrix, and it makes me slow to +take this in. How long has it been going on?"</p> + +<p>Thayer's lips tightened.</p> + +<p>"Ever since I have known him," he answered reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Much?"</p> + +<p>"No, comparatively little."</p> + +<p>"Often?"</p> + +<p>"Well—" The lengthening of the word told its own story.</p> + +<p>"Does it increase?"</p> + +<p>His expression answered her, and she took the answer in perfect silence. +It was a full minute before she spoke again; but when she did speak, her +voice had the old, level intonation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you willing to tell me just how far the trouble has gone, Mr. +Thayer?"</p> + +<p>"It is a hard matter to measure. Lorimer drinks less than a good many +men; but it takes less to upset him. In Germany, the students all drink, +and he was with them. As a rule, he stopped in time, but occasionally he +was a little silly. Once or twice it was worse."</p> + +<p>"How much worse?" The question was almost masculine in its direct +brevity.</p> + +<p>"I helped him to bed."</p> + +<p>She compressed her lips. Then,—</p> + +<p>"Go on," she said.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell what happened while I was in Italy, and Lorimer had left +Berlin before I went back there, so I didn't see him till I came to New +York. At first, I thought he had stopped all that sort of thing. His +color was better, his hand steadier. I knew the temptation was less +here, and I hoped he was so taken up with Miss Dane that he wouldn't +have time to get into the wrong set. The night of the Lloyd Avalons's +recital, he was not quite himself, and I advised him to go to Washington +while the matter blew over."</p> + +<p>"Strange I didn't hear of it," Miss Gannion said thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Dane and I saw to it that the story shouldn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> get outside the walls of +the smoking-room. Dane is a good fellow, and no fool. He got wind of the +trouble and came for me, and we hurried Lorimer away as fast as +possible. The next day, I began to hear of a supper or two where Lorimer +had been making himself a bit conspicuous."</p> + +<p>"And since then?"</p> + +<p>"Only twice."</p> + +<p>"But twice is more than enough."</p> + +<p>"It shows that the trouble is still there, that one can't count on his +promises," Thayer assented gravely.</p> + +<p>"He does promise?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, like a child. That is the pitiful part of it, pitiful and yet +exasperating. He admits his own weakness, and is sorry and ashamed, as +soon as he comes to himself. For a time, he is a model of caution and +sobriety. Then he blunders into the way of temptation and makes a mess +of it all." Unconsciously Thayer's voice betrayed his dislike of a +weakness of which he had no comprehension. An instant later, he seemed +to realize his own self-betrayal and he pulled himself up sharply. "I +wish you knew Lorimer better, Miss Gannion. Then you would understand +why I am telling you all this. He is so loyal, so generous to his +friends, so full of talent. At Göttingen, they called him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> the most +brilliant American who had ever studied there, and he was by all odds +the most popular fellow of his time. His very popularity increased the +danger." As if he had been pleading his own cause, Thayer's voice was +full of earnest eagerness. Even in the midst of her anxiety and pain, +Miss Gannion felt the power of its flexible modulation; and her +half-formulated condemnation of Lorimer stayed itself.</p> + +<p>Thayer broke the silence which followed, and his accent was resonant +again.</p> + +<p>"There's no especial use in thrashing over the past. The present is none +too good; but my question is simply in relation to the future."</p> + +<p>"And the question is?" Miss Gannion asked.</p> + +<p>"Whether we ought to tell Miss Dane," he answered briefly.</p> + +<p>"It will kill her." The feminine in Margaret Gannion was uppermost once +more.</p> + +<p>"Such wounds are more likely to mangle than to kill." Thayer spoke +grimly.</p> + +<p>"Poor Beatrix!"</p> + +<p>"She does love him, then? I didn't see how she could help it."</p> + +<p>Margaret Gannion's hands shut on a fold of her skirt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She loves him better than she loves her life; but she loves right +better than either."</p> + +<p>"And what is right?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure," she confessed weakly. "I can't seem to analyze it at +all. What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"That she ought to be told."</p> + +<p>"What good will it do?"</p> + +<p>"At least, it will put her on her guard."</p> + +<p>"Against what? From your own showing, it is like fighting an unseen +enemy. One never knows when or where it will come. She will only be put +under a terrible nervous strain, faced by a fear that will haunt her, +day and night. Besides, she might break the engagement. Have you thought +of that?"</p> + +<p>"It was of that I was thinking. She ought to have the facts, and be +allowed to face the alternatives before it is too late. Miss Gannion," +he turned upon her sharply; "can't you realize the pain it is to me to +be saying this? I love Lorimer, love him as one man rarely loves +another. Perhaps I love him all the more for his lack of strength. But +that is no reason I should let him make havoc of a girl's whole life, +perhaps of other lives to come. Miss Dane loves him; moreover, she is +very proud. She is bound to suffer keenly on both scores."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then you think—"</p> + +<p>"That the trouble is likely to increase."</p> + +<p>"And, if she breaks her engagement to him?"</p> + +<p>"That it will increase all the faster. She has a strong hold on him."</p> + +<p>"And you would run the risk of loosing this hold, when you know the +danger to your friend?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, when I see the danger to Miss Dane."</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion's hands unclasped, and she looked up at him with the +pitiful, drooping lips of a frightened child. Like Thayer, she too loved +Lorimer.</p> + +<p>"It is terrible, Mr. Thayer. I can see no way out of the trouble; it +stands on either side of the path. But do you think she could hold him, +if she were to try?"</p> + +<p>"It is an open question. Lorimer is weak; but I am not sure how strong +she is, nor how patient. If she could steady him and forgive him +ninety-nine times, it is possible that, on the hundredth, she would have +nothing to forgive. But that is asking too much of a woman, that she +should sacrifice her pride and her hope to her loyalty and her love."</p> + +<p>"I think Beatrix would do it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. At least, though, she ought to have the right to choose for +herself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once more Miss Gannion mastered herself.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure. You make the alternatives certain ruin and possible +salvation. I should cling to the chance."</p> + +<p>"And take the responsibility of silence?"</p> + +<p>"It is a responsibility; but I should assume it for the present. What we +should say to her could never be unsaid. It might do good; it might do +terrible harm. It is possible that the truth may come to her in some +other way. I should certainly prefer that it might."</p> + +<p>He bent over the fire for a moment. Then he straightened up and threw +back his shoulders, like a man relieved of the burden of a heavy load.</p> + +<p>"Then that is your final advice?" he asked slowly.</p> + +<p>She made answer just as slowly,—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thayer, I am growing older than I used to be, and things don't look +quite so plain to me as they did once. Motives mix themselves more, and +I am not so ready to put my finger on my neighbor's nerve. If I were in +your place, I—rather think I should say my prayers, and then wait."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2> + +<p>"I believe I should hate to have Mr. Thayer fall in love with me," Sally +observed thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't worry about it yet," Bobby said unkindly. "He yawned twice, +last night, while he was talking to you."</p> + +<p>Sally's answer was prompt.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we were discussing you."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you call me over to give you some points? It is the only +subject upon which I can speak with authority. But just think what a +lover Thayer would make, troubadouring around under windows!"</p> + +<p>Sally counted swiftly.</p> + +<p>"There are nineteen families in our hotel, Bobby, and thirteen of them +have marriageable daughters. Imagine the creaking of casements, when Mr. +Thayer warbled, 'Open the window to me, Love!' Troubadours will do for +the country; in town, one can heed only the impersonal strains of the +hurdy-gurdy. But really—"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Bobby's accent was encouraging.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If Mr. Thayer should fall in love and get engaged, what could the girl +call him? His name doesn't lend itself easily to endearments."</p> + +<p>"His mother ought to have thought of that, when she named him."</p> + +<p>"It is a case of visiting the father's sins upon the child of the sixth +generation. He is only Volume Seven in the series of Cotton Mathers."</p> + +<p>Bobby plunged his fists into his pockets.</p> + +<p>"That is a respectable custom; but a mighty stupid one. A fellow +oughtn't to be labelled like one of a class. Might as well catalogue +children, and done with it, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and so on through the +list of Thayers. Then, when he came to years of discretion, he could +pick for himself. Do you suppose I would have been Bobby, if I had been +consulted?"</p> + +<p>"What then?" Beatrix asked, pausing in her talk with Lorimer.</p> + +<p>"Demosthenes Alphonso, of course. That's something worth while."</p> + +<p>"Demosthenes Alphonso Dane. D. A. D." Sally commented irrepressibly. +Then she swept across the room and, parting the curtains, peeped out +between them. "Beatrix, the Philistines be upon you! Here comes Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons. Oh, why was I the first to come? As a rule, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> believe in +the rotation of callers as implicitly as I do in the rotation of crops. +Bobby, you came next. How long do you mean to stay?"</p> + +<p>"Till the almonds are gone, or till Beatrix turns me out," he replied +imperturbably.</p> + +<p>"All right. Give me five minutes' warning. You can twirl your thumbs, +when it is time for me to start; but I am bound to see some of the fun."</p> + +<p>"Now, children, you must be good," Beatrix implored them hurriedly. +"Bobby, do try to talk about something she can understand."</p> + +<p>"If you want to condemn me to the conversational limits of a mummy, say +so in plain Saxon," he retorted. "How can I talk about something that +doesn't exist?"</p> + +<p>"Bobby!" Sally's tone was full of warning, as Beatrix rose to meet her +guest.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons had gained one distinct point in her social training. +She had learned to cross a room as if she were doing her hostess a favor +by appearing. Even Beatrix was impressed by the swift, dainty sweep with +which she came forward, and she cast a hasty thought to the quality of +her tea. Bobby, meanwhile, was taking mental stock of Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons's tailor and deciding that he could give points to his own +fel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>low. For a person who professed to ignore all such detail, Bobby +Dane was singularly critical of feminine dress, as Beatrix had learned +to her cost.</p> + +<p>Seated by the tea-table, balancing a Sčvres cup in her hand, Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons appeared to be casting about in her mind for a subject of +conversation. Bobby came to her relief.</p> + +<p>"When you appeared, Mrs. Avalons, we were just speaking of mummies. Have +you seen the latest importation at the Metropolitan?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dane!" she remonstrated hastily. "Do you suppose I—"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Bobby assured her gravely. "I often spend an hour looking +at them, and I always feel the better for the time passed in their +society. They remind me of the futility of earthly things, and inspire +me to higher aims."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"You literary people have strange thoughts," she observed, addressing +the room at large. "I have often thought I should like to write, if I +only had the time."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you?" Bobby inquired blandly. "The result would be sure to be +interesting."</p> + +<p>But Beatrix interposed.</p> + +<p>"Are you as busy as ever, Mrs. Avalons?"</p> + +<p>"Busier. It is such a bore to be in this per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>petual rush; but I can't +seem to help it. Lent didn't bring me any rest, this year; and, now that +Easter is over, it seems to me that we are more gay than ever."</p> + +<p>"That is the penalty of having an early Easter," Sally suggested. "We +had to stop for Lent in the middle of the season, and now we are +finishing up the sins of which we have already repented."</p> + +<p>"Oh—yes," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons responded blankly.</p> + +<p>"Can you get all your arrears of penitence done up in six weeks, Sally?" +Bobby asked, as he passed her the almonds.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if I've not seen too much of you," she returned. "Mrs. Avalons, +when are you going to give us another recital?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons rose to the cast.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't that a success? Mr. Thayer quite covered himself with glory."</p> + +<p>"His mantle fell over some of the rest of us, and we gained lustre from +his glory." Sally's tone was slightly malicious.</p> + +<p>"He is certainly a great artist, and I am proud to have discovered him."</p> + +<p>"But I thought Mrs. Stanley discovered him. He sang for her first."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons straightened in her chair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> She had no intention of +allowing to Mrs. Stanley the prestige which belonged to herself. Mrs. +Stanley was several rounds farther up the social ladder than she was, +herself; but Mrs. Stanley lacked initiative and was rapidly losing her +start. In the seasons to come, she would find herself playing the part +of understudy to Mrs. Lloyd Avalons.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Stanley heard he was to sing for me, and she cabled across to +him to take an earlier steamer and sing for her first. It was a little +tricky. What is it you call it in the business world, Mr. Dane?"</p> + +<p>"A corner in Cotton," Bobby replied gravely.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons thought she could see that the point of this joke was +directed against Mrs. Stanley, and she laughed rather more heartily than +good breeding required. In her mirth, she even bent forward in her +chair, writhing slightly to and fro, while her silken linings hissed +like angry snakes. Suddenly she realized that she had prolonged her +mirth beyond the limits of the others, and she straightened her face +abruptly.</p> + +<p>"But I am so glad the subject has come up, Miss Dane," she went on. "I +was meaning to ask you whether you thought I could get Mr. Thayer to +sing for our Fresh Air Fund."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Really, I have no idea of Mr. Thayer's engagements," Beatrix said +drily.</p> + +<p>"But I thought you knew him so well."</p> + +<p>Beatrix's face expressed her surprise.</p> + +<p>"I know him as I know any number of people, Mrs. Avalons. That doesn't +mean that Mr. Thayer consults me in regard to his plans."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons responded vivaciously. "But couldn't you +just say a good word for us?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it wouldn't count for much."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons raised her brows and made a delicate, pushing gesture +with her outspread palms.</p> + +<p>"You are too modest, Miss Dane. We all know your powers of persuasion, +and we are counting on you."</p> + +<p>"Who are <i>we</i>?" Sally inquired, in flat curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Van Bleeker and Mrs. Knickerbocker and I. We are the committee, +this year, and we are trying to have an uncommonly good concert."</p> + +<p>"It must be very hard for you to work on a music committee with Mrs. Van +Bleeker," Bobby suggested. "She doesn't know a fugue from a bass viol, +and she never hesitates to say so."</p> + +<p>"Therein she differs from most unmusical people," Sally responded, in a +swift aside. "Even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> truthful people will fib valiantly, where music is +concerned, and go into raptures, when they have hard work to suppress +their yawns. It was a sorry day for music, when it became the fashion."</p> + +<p>"How droll you are, Miss Van Osdel!" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons was nothing, if +not direct, in her personal comments. Then she answered Bobby. "Even if +Mrs. Van Bleeker isn't really musical, it is a delight to work with her, +she is so very charming and so business-like. Strange as it may seem, I +actually take pleasure in our committee meetings, Mr. Dane."</p> + +<p>"I haven't the slightest doubt of it," Bobby responded, with unctuous +emphasis.</p> + +<p>"When is the concert to be, Mrs. Avalons?" Beatrix asked hastily, with a +frown at her cousin who stared blandly back at her.</p> + +<p>"The first week in May, if we can possibly be ready for it. There was so +much, just before Lent, that we postponed it until after Easter. Now we +are no better off, for every day is full, so we are delaying it again. +We want to make it a large affair, don't you know, something that will +attract the swell set and the musical people, too."</p> + +<p>If Bobby Dane hated one word in the language, that word was <i>swell</i>. +Accordingly, he glared haughtily across the table at Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> noting, as he did so, the scornful cadence of her voice over +the final phrase.</p> + +<p>"The two sets rarely mingle, Mrs. Avalons. Which is under your especial +care?"</p> + +<p>Lorimer interposed hurriedly, for he felt the hostility in Bobby's tone, +and he was ignorant of the thickness of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's skin.</p> + +<p>"Both, I should say from the make-up of your recital, Mrs. Avalons. +Society and art both spelled themselves with capital letters, that +night."</p> + +<p>"I am sure it is very kind of you to say so," she answered, while her +pleasure brought the first sincere note into her voice. "I tried to have +something really good. But about this concert; we are to have a soprano +from the Metropolitan Opera House, and possibly a violinist, and we want +Mr. Thayer so much. Do you suppose we could get him?"</p> + +<p>"It might depend a little upon the state of your finances," Bobby +suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh; but it is for charity, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, charity is supposed to be like molasses, sweet and cheap. It isn't +very nourishing to a professional man, though."</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Thayer is not poor."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't signify that he can give all his time for nothing," Bobby +answered rather warmly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> considering that the question was utterly +impersonal. "If he sang every day, all winter, for some charity or +other, he couldn't begin to get round in ten years. There ought to be a +new mission started, a Society for the Protection of Over-begged +Artists."</p> + +<p>"But I am only asking him for one charity."</p> + +<p>"That's all anybody is supposed to do. The time hasn't come yet when you +syndicate the job, though I suppose it is only a matter of time."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons looked at him distrustfully for a moment; then she +laughed with a dainty vagueness.</p> + +<p>"You are so amusing, Mr. Dane! One never really knows whether you're in +earnest or not. How many tickets did you say you would take?"</p> + +<p>"One and a half," Sally advised, while Bobby stared at Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons in speechless disgust. "He will go, and take me with him; but +newspaper men are always admitted at half-rates."</p> + +<p>"And you really think Mr. Thayer will sing for us?" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +went on, turning back to Beatrix. "It will be an advantage to him, in a +way, to have sung under the auspices of our committee."</p> + +<p>This time, even Beatrix felt herself antagonized. Thayer belonged to her +own class, and her class<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> was scarcely of the type to need the official +social sanction of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons.</p> + +<p>"I have no idea at all in regard to the matter," she answered a little +coldly. "Mr. Thayer appears to me to be able to hold his own, without +the backing of any committee. It simply depends upon his personal +generosity."</p> + +<p>"But it is such a worthy object. And don't you think we could get that +little Arlt to fill in with?"</p> + +<p>"From, by, in, or with charity, and to or for a charity?" Bobby asked +savagely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, we couldn't pay him." There was a falling inflection of +the last word.</p> + +<p>"Then I should advise him to decline charity altogether," Bobby +retorted.</p> + +<p>"It would be an advantage to him to play on such a programme," Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons asserted, as she set down her cup.</p> + +<p>"It would also be an advantage to him to get a little money, now and +then."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons raised her brows. They were daintily-marked brows, +and the expression suited her pretty, empty little face.</p> + +<p>"I think it is something for a man of no reputation at all to have a +chance to be heard in such a connection," she replied a little tartly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ye-es." Bobby rose with provoking deliberation. "And it is also +possible, Mrs. Avalons, that when we are thankful even to be charted in +Woodlawn, Mr. Arlt's name may be a good deal better known than it is +now. Sally, we are due at the Stuyvesants', and I think we must tear +ourselves away."</p> + +<p>Out in the hall, he addressed himself to Sally.</p> + +<p>"For social pulleys, give me three: music, cheek, and charity, but the +greatest of these is ch—"</p> + +<p>"Charity," amended Sally promptly.</p> + +<p>Bobby gloomily pulled himself into his overcoat.</p> + +<p>"Sally, I abhor that woman," he said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2> + +<p>"If you once begin, there'll be no end to it," Bobby warned Thayer, when +he announced his intention of singing for the Fresh Air Fund.</p> + +<p>"I never yet found anything I couldn't end, when I tried," Thayer +returned coolly.</p> + +<p>Bobby eyed him askance.</p> + +<p>"Ever tackled Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's idiocy?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"She is not the only one."</p> + +<p>"No; worse luck! But what makes you do it?"</p> + +<p>"I approve the charity, and I happened to have a free night. Moreover, +it will give Arlt a chance to accompany."</p> + +<p>"But she won't pay him."</p> + +<p>"No, but I generally manage to pay my own accompanist."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he will gain from such a thing?"</p> + +<p>Crossing his knees comfortably, Thayer lighted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> the pipe he had been +filling, and took a tentative puff or two.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said dubiously. "He ought to, but I can't seem to +discover the way to get on in this precious country of ours. Arlt is a +musician to the tips of his fingers; I have yet to hear a pianist in the +city to compare with him. And still, nobody manifests the least interest +in him."</p> + +<p>Bobby contemplated the tip of his own cigar, bending his brows and +frowning as much from his optical angle as from his mental one.</p> + +<p>"He lacks the two P's," he said slowly; "pull and personality."</p> + +<p>Impatiently Thayer uncrossed his knees and crossed them in the reverse +position.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that nothing else counts here?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Precious little. A fellow has got to have good lungs for blowing his +own horn, else he is drowned in the general chorus. That's the worst of +music as a profession; personality is everything. You must be perfect or +peculiar. The latter alternative is the greater help. If Arlt would grow +a head of hair, or wear a dinner napkin instead of a necktie, it would +improve his chances wonderfully."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But, if the right people would take him up?" Thayer suggested.</p> + +<p>"They won't; or, if they do, they'll drop him as a monkey drops a hot +chestnut. Arlt plays like an artist; but he blushes, and he forgets to +keep his cuffs in sight. He is as unworldly as he is conventional. +Society doesn't care to fuss with him."</p> + +<p>Thayer looked grave.</p> + +<p>"I am having my own share of good times, Dane. It seems as if I ought to +be able—"</p> + +<p>Bobby interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"You can't. No man can hoist his brother into success. It is bound to be +every man for himself. You can work over Arlt till the crack of doom, +and that's all the good it will do him. People will say 'How noble of +Mr. Thayer!' and they will burn moral tapers about your feet; and +meanwhile they'll leave Arlt sitting on the floor alone in the dark."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, I think I shall keep on with the experiment," Thayer said +stubbornly.</p> + +<p>"Good luck go with you! But it won't. You can't make the next man's +reputation; he must do it for himself. All art is bound to be a bit +selfish; but music is the worst of the lot. I don't mean composing, of +course, but the interpreting end of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> it. It's such beastly personal +work; all the nooks and corners of your individuality show up across the +footlights. They are commented upon, and they have to pass muster. +Artistically, you and Arlt are as alike as two peas; personally, you are +positive, he is negative.'"</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Then Thayer said quietly,—"I think I shall sing the +Damrosch <i>Danny Deever</i>. It has a stunning accompaniment."</p> + +<p>The committee of the Fresh Air Fund concert showed themselves a potent +trio, and their concert became recognized as the official finale of the +musical season. Their meetings had been fraught with interest, for time, +place and programme all came under detailed discussion. It must be at a +time neither too soon after Easter to collide with it, nor too late to +have a place in the season's gayety. The place must be lofty enough to +lure the world of fashion; yet not so lofty as to deter the simpler folk +to whom the white and gold of the Waldorf ballroom was a mere name, as +remote from their lives as the <i>Petit Trianon</i>. The programme must be +classic enough to satisfy the critic; yet tuneful enough not to bore the +amateur, and accordingly it roamed from Brahms to Molloy, and included +that first Slavonic Dance of Dvorák which sets the pulses of Pagan and +Philistine alike to ting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>ling with a barbarous joy in the mere +consciousness of living. Thayer alone had refused to accept dictation at +the hands of the committee.</p> + +<p>"If I consent to sing, I must choose my own songs," he had said quietly +to Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, when she had suggested a modern French love song +in place of the Händel aria he had selected.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it is so late in the season, and everybody is tired," she had +urged gayly. "If we give them too heavy things on a warm night, they may +go to sleep."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall proceed to wake them up," he replied. "And, for the second +number, the <i>Danny Deever</i>, I think."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thayer! That grewsome thing! Why don't you sing <i>My Desire</i>, if you +are so anxious for an American song?"</p> + +<p>"I think <i>Danny</i> will be better. Then we will consider it settled." And +it was not until she was out on the stairs that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +realized she had been defeated and then dismissed by the man whose +patroness she was assuming to be.</p> + +<p>"No matter," she reflected; "we've got to pay Signora Cantabella, and we +can insist upon her singing something a little more digestible. Mr. +Thayer is cranky; but we get him and that little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> Arlt for nothing, so I +suppose we mustn't be too critical."</p> + +<p>For once, Mrs. Lloyd Avalons showed her good sense. In all truth, +beggars should not be choosers, whether the alms be of bread crusts or +of high art.</p> + +<p>Lorimer dined with Beatrix, that night. Contrary to the custom of the +Danes, they did not linger over the meal; and, as soon as they left the +table, Beatrix and Lorimer strolled away to the conservatory at the back +of the house. The yellow sunset light was still gilding the place, and +through the wide-open windows the night breeze crept in, softly stirring +the heavy palm leaves and scattering the scent of a few late violets +over all the air.</p> + +<p>Refusing the seat which Lorimer silently pointed out to her, Beatrix +paced restlessly up and down the broad middle walk.</p> + +<p>"I think I am nervous, to-night," she said, with an odd little laugh. "I +have been feeling, all day long, as if things were going to happen."</p> + +<p>"Things generally do happen," Lorimer said lightly, as he sauntered +along by her side.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but something unusual, something uncanny."</p> + +<p>Lorimer threw back his head and laughed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I thought you derided presentiments, Beatrix."</p> + +<p>She bit her lip.</p> + +<p>"I do," she said, after a pause. "I know it is foolish, and I am ashamed +of myself; but I dread this recital, to-night, and I dread that hateful +Lloyd Avalons supper after it. Let's not go, Sidney."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we must. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"They are such impossible people."</p> + +<p>"I know; but everyone will understand that it is on Thayer's account +that we go, Beatrix. And he made such a point of it."</p> + +<p>She drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"If we must—But I dread it. Do keep Mr. Avalons away from me, then."</p> + +<p>As he looked down at the brown head which scarcely rose above his lips, +Lorimer's smile ceased to be whimsical and became inexpressibly tender +and winning.</p> + +<p>"Count on me, dear girl. He is a brute; but I won't let him go near +you."</p> + +<p>Impulsively she turned and faced him.</p> + +<p>"Sidney," she said, with a breathless catch in her voice; "Sidney—" +Then, while she hesitated, she raised her hands and rested them on his +broad shoulders. "Sidney dearest, do you know what it is to love as I +love you? It would kill me to have anything come in between us."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Startled by her overwrought nerves, he put his arm around her and drew +her head against his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I know only one thing, Beatrix," he said gravely; "nothing now can come +between us but death."</p> + +<p>Diamond aigrettes and critical ears both were at the concert, that +night, mingled with a fair sprinkling of those to whom the charity +appealed far more than did the mere musical and worldly phases of the +affair. The little folded programmes were in a way typical of the whole +situation: one page containing the modest announcement of the Fresh Air +Fund concert, the next one the simple statement of the numbers of the +programme, while the third, in full-faced type bore the majestic list of +patronesses. Between his German and Italian fellow artists and his +polysyllabic Dutch sponsors, Thayer's name stood out in all the +aggressiveness of Puritan simplicity.</p> + +<p>As a whole, the concert was as frothy as was the audience. The songs +glittered like the diamonds, and the orchestra played the <i>Valkyries' +Ride</i> with a cheerful abandonment of mirth.</p> + +<p>"Thayer is the only dignified member of the company," Bobby growled into +Sally's ears, as the last note of his aria died away. "The rest of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> them +are doing tricks like a set of vaudeville artists. I expected that +violinist to play cadenzas with his violin held in the air above his +head. You don't catch Thayer dropping into such trick work."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't need to; he can 'scorn such a foe' to his heart's content, +for he is getting the applause of the evening. Does he sing again?"</p> + +<p>"The very last number. It is an unusual place, to wind up a programme +after the orchestra is through; but I think he is equal to it."</p> + +<p>Beatrix felt every nerve in her body tingling and throbbing, when Thayer +came out on the stage for the second time. As a whole, the concert had +not been inspiring to her; it had been too obviously popular. Yet, at +least, it had tended to relax her strained nerves. Gade concertos are a +species of mental gruel, easy to assimilate and none too stimulating; +but all the innate barbarism of humanity, all of her nervous force +responded to the clashing rhythm of the Slavonic Dance, and the swift +color came into her face and focussed itself in a tiny circle in either +cheek, as she listened. For the moment, she was as fiercely defiant of +fate as a Valkyrie flying forth to battle.</p> + +<p>The mood was still upon her, as Thayer came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> striding out across the +stage. Arlt was beside him, for Thayer had refused an orchestral +accompaniment and had left <i>Danny Deever</i> in the hands of a pianist. His +choice had been a wise one for Arlt. The two of them had spent hours +over the song, and the young German surpassed himself in the swift +changes of <i>motif</i> until, as he left <i>Danny's</i> soul freeing itself from +the swinging body and took up the cheery theme of the quickstep once +more, even Thayer was relegated momentarily to the background, as a mere +librettist to the passionate fury of the accompaniment.</p> + +<p>Again and again the applause broke out; again and again Thayer insisted +upon leading Arlt before the audience to make his bow; but still the +audience refused to be satisfied. Even the most graceful of bows is not +enough, when one is thoroughly aroused.</p> + +<p>"Play something, Arlt," Thayer ordered him at last.</p> + +<p>Arlt shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It is for you they are calling."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. This is your success; not mine."</p> + +<p>Arlt demurred; but in the end he yielded and played one or two numbers +of Schumann's <i>Papillon</i>, played them like a true artist. As he +listened, Thayer held his breath. At last, Arlt's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> chance had come, and +he was making the most of it. The furore of a moment before had been for +Arlt more than for himself. Sad experience had taught him the futility +of <i>Danny</i>, unless it were adequately accompanied, and the audience were +discerning enough to give honor to whom honor was due. Standing in the +wings, Thayer exulted in each note which fell from the boy's fingers, +round and mellow and weighted with passionate meaning. Arlt was +betraying his hopes and fears more than he realized, just then, and +Thayer grew impatient for his closing phrase, that he might hear the +storm of applause which was bound to follow. He had not counted upon the +veering wind of popular interest which scattered the storm, leaving only +the gentle patter of a summer shower. The critics applauded; but society +applied its lorgnette to its eye and discovered that, in his excitement, +Arlt had neglected to make sure that his tie was mathematically +straight. The patter died away into silence. Then the wind veered again +and the storm broke out afresh, mingled with cries of Thayer's name.</p> + +<p>Arlt's lips worked nervously, as he joined Thayer in the wings.</p> + +<p>"It was you they wanted, after all," he said, with a pitiful attempt at +a smile.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then they are damned fools," Thayer replied savagely; but his hand was +gentle, as he rested it on Arlt's shoulder.</p> + +<p>The boy braced himself at the touch.</p> + +<p>"We must go back," he said.</p> + +<p>Thayer hesitated, while his thoughts worked swiftly. There would be a +certain cruelty, to his mind, in forcing Arlt to appear again before the +audience which had just cut him so mercilessly. On the other hand, it +would be the part of childish pique for him to refuse to show himself. +Nevertheless, he needed Arlt's support. He disliked to play his own +accompaniments, and he felt that, in doing so, he risked possible +disaster. The hesitation lasted only for a moment. Then his jaw +stiffened.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Arlt," he said briefly. "I am going to accompany +myself, this time."</p> + +<p>As he crossed the stage, he glanced hastily from Bobby to Bobby's +cousin. Bobby was glowering at the audience and grumbling into Sally's +ear. Four rows in front of them, Beatrix sat silent at Lorimer's side. +The color had left her face again, and her eyes drooped heavily. It was +as if, in watching Arlt's overthrow, her old prescience of impending +disaster had come back upon her in fourfold measure, heightened by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +intensity of her exhilaration of a few moments before. When a quiet +woman is stirred from her usual poise, the pendulum of her nerves swings +in a long arc. The Dvorák dance had not deepened Sally's color; the +Damrosch song had not caused her to draw her white ostrich boa more +closely about her throat.</p> + +<p>Thayer struck a vigorous major chord or two; then, with a sudden memory +of the dry glitter in Arlt's eyes, he modulated thoughtfully. His own +eyes rested again upon Beatrix during the few notes of the introduction, +and his mind went swiftly back to the day when he had sung the same +little song in her parlor. Half absently, his eyes were still upon her +face, as he came again to the closing words,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To kiss the cross, sweetheart, to kiss the cross.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Unconsciously, uncontrollably, his eyes held hers, and he could see the +two great drops gather there, as she listened, her lips parted with her +deep, swift breathing. Then their eyes dropped apart, and the color +rushed into her cheeks while, with a sudden, impulsive gesture, she +slipped her hand into Lorimer's arm and pressed it until she felt the +returning, reassuring pressure.</p> + +<p>Lorimer looked down at her with a smile.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Spooky again, dear girl?" he asked, under cover of the applause which +had broken out madly once more. "He is singing superbly, to-night; but +this last was wonderful. Something has rubbed him the wrong way; I know +that set of his jaw, and it always means that he will be inspired to do +his best. Queer thing; isn't it? If I were angry or hurt, I should go to +pieces completely; but it brings Thayer to his feet, every time."</p> + +<p>"What do you think was the reason?" Beatrix asked, with as great a show +of interest as she could command. The first lesson Mrs. Dane had taught +her child in preparation for her coming-out tea had been the simple and +obvious one that men were rarely minded to sympathize with feminine +moods; but that under all conditions a woman who seeks to please, must +adapt herself to the mental vagaries of her masculine companion. Even +Lorimer, tender and loving as he invariably showed himself, was no +exception to the rule.</p> + +<p>"It was Arlt's snubbing," Lorimer returned, as he rose. "It was a +beastly thing to do. Arlt played superbly, and they might have treated +him with common courtesy. But there is no accounting for tastes. Thayer +is the hero of the evening, and people are too busy applauding him, to +have any time for lesser lights."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you think Mr. Arlt will ever succeed?" she asked anxiously for, +through Thayer's efforts to bring them together, she had become +genuinely interested in the boy.</p> + +<p>"God knows," Lorimer answered, with a sudden gravity that became him +well.</p> + +<p>Later, that evening, Thayer joined Lorimer and Beatrix in a corner of +the Lloyd Avalons's music-room. Beatrix greeted him half shyly.</p> + +<p>"It was a new experience," she said, with an effort to speak lightly. "I +thought I had learned to know your voice long ago; but I have decided +that I never really knew it, until to-night."</p> + +<p>He stood looking down at her with a grave smile.</p> + +<p>"My voice isn't always reliable, Miss Dane. Once in a while, it seems to +run away with me. To-night, it took the bits in its teeth."</p> + +<p>She felt compelled to raise her eyes to meet his.</p> + +<p>"I hope it won't do it too often. It is wonderful; but—" Then she +pulled herself together with a little laugh. "It must be rather amusing +to you, Mr. Thayer, to watch your effect on your audience, and to know +that you can make them shiver or cry whenever you choose."</p> + +<p>He refused to be won into the laugh for which she hoped.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It isn't whenever I choose," he responded, with unexpected literalness. +"Sometimes I feel as if I were the victim of a sort of possession. I +believe I have a demon that inhabits my vocal cords upon occasion. If he +does get hold of me, I am merely a machine in his hands. When I become +my own manager again, I am never quite sure what I may have been doing."</p> + +<p>"Something very good, to-night. But where is Mr. Arlt?"</p> + +<p>Thayer's face darkened.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lloyd Avalons neglected to invite him," he replied quietly.</p> + +<p>Lorimer's lip curled.</p> + +<p>"If that isn't beyond the dreams of snobbishness, Thayer! Why did you +come to her old party, then?"</p> + +<p>"Because I thought it would be too petty to stay away."</p> + +<p>"I would be petty, then. But, as far as that goes, Arlt's ancestors were +gentlemen, when hers were shovelling gravel for a dollar a day. American +democracy runs in strange grooves. Thayer, I am going to leave Beatrix +in your care for a few minutes. I promised Ned Carpenter I would see him +in the smoking-room, to make a date for his yachting cruise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>"</p> + +<p>Thayer looked after him with a certain anxiety which clouded his gray +eyes and found a reflection in the face of his companion. The cloud +remained, although their talk went on as if nothing were amiss. In fact, +nothing was amiss; it was only that their nerves, jarred by Arlt's +failure, were looking for disaster upon every hand. For the time being, +each bead seemed tipped with its cross. Both felt it; both were loath to +acknowledge the feeling by so much as a look.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Thayer roused himself.</p> + +<p>"Lorimer has been detained, Miss Dane, and we both are growing hungry. +May I take you to the dining-room?"</p> + +<p>Side by side, they crossed the floor, now almost deserted, and reached +the door of the dining-room whence came a confused noise of buzzing +tongues and clattering dishes. Then, above all else, Lorimer's voice met +their ears, a merry, laughing voice, but strangely thick as regarded its +consonants.</p> + +<p>"An' so, 's I was shayin', we wen' to Mory's, one ni', an' there was +thish man—"</p> + +<p>Some unaccountable impulse made him raise his eyes just then. They fell +full upon Beatrix standing in the doorway, with Thayer at her side.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINE" id="CHAPTER_NINE"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h2> + +<p>Beatrix's library was full of women, when Lorimer put in a tardy +appearance, the day after the Fresh Air Fund concert. A dozen little +tables littered with cards were pushed together in one corner, and the +tinkling of china and the hum of conversation betrayed the fact that +whist had given place to a more congenial method of passing the time. +Modern womanhood plays whist almost without ceasing; but it should be +noted that she frowns over the whist and reserves her smiles for her +more garrulous interludes.</p> + +<p>Lorimer, as he stepped across the threshold, felt a sudden longing to +retreat. He had forgotten both the whist and the interlude, that +afternoon, and he felt no inclination to exchange verbal inanities with +a group of women of whom several had been at the Lloyd Avalons supper, +the night before. All of them, he was convinced, had heard of the +incident, and were covertly eying Beatrix to see whether she looked as +if she had slept well. His theory was justified by the fact<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> that, for +the first time that season, not a substitute had been present.</p> + +<p>Beatrix rose from the tea table, as he crossed the room towards her. Her +manner was a shade more alert than usual; but her eyes, half-circled in +heavy shadows, drooped before his eyes, as she gave him her hand. He +felt her fingers shake a little, and he could see the color die out of +her cheeks. Otherwise, there was nothing to mark their meeting as in any +way differing from any other meeting in the past. He greeted the other +women, accepted his cup of tea and took up his share of the burden of +conversation with apparent nonchalance.</p> + +<p>The nonchalance was only apparent, however. Lorimer had sought Beatrix, +that day, much in the mood in which the naughty boy turns his back to +receive his allotted caning. The bad half-hour was bound to come; it was +best to have it over as soon as possible. Lorimer had gone to bed, the +night before, in a state of maudlin cheeriness. He had wakened, that +morning, feeling a heavy weight in his head and a heavier one on his +conscience. He had an unnecessarily clear recollection of Beatrix's face +as it had looked to him, the one sharply-outlined fact across a misty +distance peopled with vague shadows. The eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> had been hurt and angry; +but the lips showed only loving disappointment. All the morning long, he +had pondered upon the matter; but by noon he had made his decision. The +meeting was inevitable, so what was the use of trying to put it off?</p> + +<p>"Well, Sidney?" Beatrix said steadily, as soon as the last guest had +made her nervous, chattering exit.</p> + +<p>With some degree of care, he had prepared his defensive argument; but it +had lost all its force and fervor by reason of the half-hour spent in +the roomful of women. Now he made a hasty effort to reconstruct it, and +failed.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said, with simple humility.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously, each had taken the best method to disarm the other. +Before scornful, angry denunciation, he could have burst out into +voluble explanation and defence which, in its turn, would have +antagonized Beatrix beyond any possibility of relenting. For the +unpardonable sin, forgiveness must be a free gift. Confronted by +excuses, Beatrix would have been unyielding. In the face of his +humility, she hesitated to speak the final condemnation, and instinct +taught her that feminine reproaches were worse than futile in the face +of a real crisis.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 351px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="351" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Can't you make any sort of an excuse for<br /> +yourself, Sidney?' she demanded"</span> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p>"How did you happen to do it, Sidney?" she asked quietly, as she seated +herself again beside the deserted tea table and began absently setting +the disordered cups into straight rows.</p> + +<p>He raised his eyes from the carpet.</p> + +<p>"Because I was a brute," he said briefly.</p> + +<p>Methodically she sorted out the spoons in two little piles. Then, +pushing them together into a disorderly heap, she started to her feet +and faced him.</p> + +<p>"Can't you make any sort of an excuse for yourself, Sidney?" she +demanded, and there was a desperate ring to her words.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I can't see any," he replied, after an interval. Suddenly he laughed +harshly. "Unless you count total depravity," he added.</p> + +<p>She ignored the laugh.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know, then, what this means," she said slowly, so slowly +that it seemed as if each word caught in her throat.</p> + +<p>His face whitened and he started to speak; but his voice failed him. He +bowed in silence.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she went on, while the cords in her clasped hands stood +out like bits of rattan; "perhaps I am more sorry than you are; but +there seems to be nothing else that I can do.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> Last night was the +tragedy of my life; to-day is the hardest, the longest day I have ever +spent. But—"</p> + +<p>Bending forward, he took up one of the spoons from the table and looked +at it intently for a moment. Under his mustache his lips worked +nervously, and Beatrix saw the moisture gather in great drops upon his +forehead. Fortunately she could not see his eyes, for their long lashes +veiled them. It was better so; she could hold herself more steady. There +was a certain mercilessness in the way she waited for him to break the +silence.</p> + +<p>"Is it final?" he asked at length. "I wish you would give me another +chance, Beatrix."</p> + +<p>"I have given you too many, as it is," she replied sadly.</p> + +<p>He looked up at her, too much startled now to care whether or not she +saw the tell-tale tears.</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"That last night only confirmed what I have been suspecting and +dreading." This time, there came the scornful note he had so feared.</p> + +<p>He dropped his eyes again, and accepted the condemnation in silence. If +she knew the whole truth, there was no need of arguing with her over the +details. The spoon snapped in two in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> hands. He rose and tossed the +fragments into the fire.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" Beatrix asked.</p> + +<p>"Straight to the devil." His accent was hard, but perfectly quiet, the +accent of a desperate man, not of a reckless boy.</p> + +<p>Up to the last moment, she had expected that he would seek to justify +himself, would ask her to explain her decision and to modify it. This +grim, silent acceptance of his fate terrified her. It seemed to throw +upon her shoulders all the responsibility of an action which in itself +was right, yet possibly burdened with consequences dangerous to another. +For herself, for the killing of her own great love, Beatrix never +wavered. It was her own affair and concerned herself alone. But she knew +that Lorimer loved her, and all at once she realized that her sudden +rejection of his love was bound to bring forth bitter fruit. During the +time it took him to cross the floor, she was swiftly weighing her duty +to herself against her duty to her neighbor. She was bound to send him +away; but was she equally bound to send him away like a beaten dog, +without a word of explanation or of pity?</p> + +<p>"Sidney?"</p> + +<p>He had reached the door; but, at her call, he hesitated and looked +back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You understand why I am doing this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said bitterly; "I understand only too well."</p> + +<p>"And you think I am justified?"</p> + +<p>He faced about squarely.</p> + +<p>"Good God, Beatrix, when you have stabbed a man to death, don't grind +the knife round and round, and ask him if he feels it! Let him make as +plucky an exit as he can."</p> + +<p>His words broke the strain she had put upon herself.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean—I didn't suppose—" she faltered. Then she dropped into +a chair and covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>Lorimer turned to the door again, halted irresolutely, then went back to +her side.</p> + +<p>"I can't go away and leave you like this, dear girl," he said, as he +bent over her. "It isn't going to be easy for either of us; it is bound +to leave a terrible scar on our lives. But, if it is the only thing you +can do: at least, can't we say a decent good-by to each other?"</p> + +<p>She took down her hands, drew a long breath and looked up at him; but +she was unable to meet the look in his eyes, the loving, hungry look +which she had learned to know so well.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We have loved each other, dear girl. I have been better and stronger +for your love. I only wish it might have lasted, for in time it might +have made me quite steady. But I am glad I have had so much. Whatever +the future has for me, at least I have had something in the past."</p> + +<p>The hardness had left his tone, and the passionate, bitter ring. There +was nothing now but the note of utter sadness. Beatrix trembled for +herself, for the fate of her resolve, as she heard it.</p> + +<p>"But I couldn't hold you, Sidney."</p> + +<p>"No, dear; perhaps not. But you held me more than you knew. You only saw +the times I slipped; you never had any idea of the times I nearly went +under, and pulled myself up again for your sake. If it hadn't been for +you and Thayer, for Thayer before I ever saw you, dear, I should have +gone under long ago. Now Thayer will have it all to do."</p> + +<p>There was no reproach in his voice. He seemed to be merely stating the +fact, not entirely for her ears, but as if he were trying to accustom +himself to the thought of all which it implied. Suddenly his shoulders +straightened; his tone grew resonant; his words came more rapidly.</p> + +<p>"It is in my blood, Beatrix. My mother was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> weak, and I am weaker still. +I know the danger; I see it and I tell myself that I must fight shy of +it. For a while I do fight shy of it, till I get off my guard and think +I am quite safe. The next thing I know, it has cropped out again, and I +haven't the nerve to face it and knock it over. It knocks me over, +instead, and each knock is just a little harder than the one before it +has been. I realize it, and I try to down it; but that's all the good it +does. I am weak, Beatrix, weak and selfish. I honestly think it is +harder for me to keep steady than it would be for Thayer, or even for +Bobby. The taint is in me. I don't mean that it is any excuse for my +making a brute of myself; but, if there is any pity in God, he must give +a little bit of it to us fellows, born weak, realizing our weakness and +truly meaning to fight it, and yet giving in to it again and again."</p> + +<p>"There is pity in God, Sidney," she said drearily; "but pity can't do +any good in a case like this. You need help, not pity."</p> + +<p>"The help of man?" he asked bitterly. "Who will give it? They are too +busy saving themselves."</p> + +<p>"There is only one man who can help you."</p> + +<p>"Thayer?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; yourself. Sidney, I hate to discuss this thing, for it has come +between us and spoiled life for us both; but you have no right to depend +on Mr. Thayer as you do. You aren't a child, and you can fight your own +way out of this."</p> + +<p>"What's the use now?"</p> + +<p>"Use! Everything. Your whole manhood."</p> + +<p>"But in the end? What does it all amount to?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, you aren't child enough to need a bribe?" she asked in sharp +scorn.</p> + +<p>Her scorn stung him to rapid speech.</p> + +<p>"Beatrix, ever since I turned into manhood, I have known this danger of +mine, and I have tried to fight it for the sake of the woman I might +love, some day. Laugh, if you will. Perhaps it is funny; but it has a +certain pitiful side to it, this trying to keep one's self clean for the +sake of the woman one has never yet seen. Then, last fall, I did see +her. Since then, the fight has been easier; perhaps I've not lost so +many battles. It all seemed more worth while. And now—"</p> + +<p>"And now?" Her voice was almost inaudible.</p> + +<p>"Now I have had it all and lost it, lost it through my own fault, and +there doesn't seem to be anything left worth fighting for."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a long silence. At length, Beatrix rose.</p> + +<p>"Sidney," she said, as she slowly held out both hands to him; "shall we +fight side by side for a little longer?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TEN" id="CHAPTER_TEN"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h2> + +<p>"I've manufactured a new definition of happiness," Sally said to Bobby +Dane, six months later.</p> + +<p>"What now?"</p> + +<p>"Think with the mob."</p> + +<p>"Who has rubbed you the wrong way, this time?" Bobby queried +unsympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Everybody. I am so tired of hearing people praise Beatrix for marrying +Sidney Lorimer."</p> + +<p>Bobby halted and shook hands with her, to the manifest wonder of the +post-ecclesiastical Fifth Avenue throng.</p> + +<p>"That's where even your head is level, Sally," he said, as he resumed +his stroll. "Do you want to know what I think of her?"</p> + +<p>"If you agree with me; not otherwise. I hate arguments, and, besides, it +is bad form to condemn one's dearest friend. But keeping still so long +has nearly driven me to—"</p> + +<p>"Tetanus," Bobby suggested. "Well, my impression of Beatrix is that she +is a bally idiot. I don't know just what <i>bally</i> means; but our English<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +brethren apply it in critical cases, and so it is sure to be right. Yes, +I think Beatrix is very bally indeed."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't approve, either?"</p> + +<p>"Me? I? I have hated Lorimer from the start."</p> + +<p>"I haven't," Sally said, after a thoughtful interval. "I liked him at +first."</p> + +<p>"You never saw him at the club," Bobby returned briefly.</p> + +<p>"What did he do there?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He just wasn't right."</p> + +<p>Sally paced along meditatively at his side.</p> + +<p>"Bobby, you are a critical being," she observed at length.</p> + +<p>"Mayhap. But the event justifies me. I never have liked Lorimer, and I +never shall."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do about it?"</p> + +<p>Bobby opened his hands and turned them palm downwards.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to be done. I hate to see Beatrix throw herself away; +but I can't help it."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what her idea is," Sally said thoughtfully. "She has always +been so down upon any fastness that I supposed she would cut his +acquaintance entirely, after that Lloyd Avalons supper."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He acted an awful cad, that night." Bobby's tone was disdainful. "I +helped get him home and, before he was fairly out of the dining-room, he +was bragging about his family, and his money, and the Lord knows what."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I heard him. Beatrix heard some of it, too, before Mr. Thayer took +her away. I was at her house, the next afternoon, when Mr. Lorimer +called, and I was sure she would break her engagement there and then. +Put not your faith in the principles of a woman in love."</p> + +<p>"Confound her principles! That's what is the matter with her," Bobby +growled. "I had always supposed that Beatrix was a reasonable girl; but +no girl in her senses would tackle the job of marrying Sidney Lorimer to +reform him."</p> + +<p>"When I do it, I'll reverse things and reform the man to marry him," +Sally returned shrewdly.</p> + +<p>Bobby raised his brows.</p> + +<p>"The first time you've ever warned me that I was on probation, Sally!"</p> + +<p>"I said a man, not a boy," she replied unkindly. "But, after all, Mr. +Lorimer has been perfectly steady, all summer long."</p> + +<p>"Mm—yes, after a fashion. Of course, he would do his best, for I will +do him the justice to admit that he loves Beatrix with all the manhood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +there is in him. To be sure, that's not saying much."</p> + +<p>"You aren't quite fair to him, Bobby. He must have some manhood in him, +to have steadied down as much as he has done, this summer."</p> + +<p>Bobby shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"He is playing for high stakes, Sally, and he can afford to be careful. +Any slip now would prove to be the losing of the whole game. Wait a year +and see."</p> + +<p>"Then you think—"</p> + +<p>"That his reform is skin deep, and that, like all other serpents, he +sloughs his skin once a year."</p> + +<p>"Bobby!"</p> + +<p>"Sarah Maria!"</p> + +<p>"Don't make fun of me because I was named for a spinster aunt. I can't +help my name."</p> + +<p>"No; it's past help. I'd change it, if I were you. Just think how it +would sound at the altar, while the alteration was going on! 'I, Sarah +Maria, take thee—'"</p> + +<p>Sally interposed hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"But, to go back to Beatrix, if you feel in this way about Mr. Lorimer, +why don't you do something about it?"</p> + +<p>"Do what, for example?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Speak to her father, or something."</p> + +<p>Bobby's answer had an accent of utter gravity which somehow belied the +frivolous form of his words.</p> + +<p>"Sally, I'll give you a new proverb, one I have found useful at times. +Put not thy finger into thy neighbor's pie, lest it get stuck there +permanently."</p> + +<p>For the next few blocks, the silence between them was unbroken. Sally +nodded to an occasional acquaintance, and Bobby, without lifting his +eyes from the ground, seconded her salute with the mechanical raising of +his hat which good breeding demands. Few conventions are more +exasperatingly impersonal than the bow and smile of the average social +being.</p> + +<p>"But I love Beatrix," Sally said inconsequently, after an interval.</p> + +<p>"I, too."</p> + +<p>For the moment, both voices had lost their customary tone of light +banter. Bobby broke the next pause.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you say something, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could; but it is no use. Beatrix hasn't the least respect for +my opinion. She thinks I am only a child, and, moreover, once upon a +time, I urged her to marry Mr. Lorimer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> Of course, that was before any +of this came out about him; but I hate to go into details with her, and, +if I don't she will think it's nothing but a whim."</p> + +<p>"What do you care what she thinks?"</p> + +<p>Sally shifted her eyes from the apartment houses on Eighth Avenue to +Bobby's face.</p> + +<p>"Bobby, I am afraid of Beatrix," she confessed. "She is built on a +larger frame than I am, and we both of us are quite aware of the fact."</p> + +<p>"It may be a part of her capacious frame to risk her life in marrying +Sidney Lorimer," Bobby grumbled; "but, for my part, I prefer smaller +women."</p> + +<p>Sally faced him suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Bobby! You don't mean you think he will kill her sometime when he is +drunk?"</p> + +<p>"No such luck! In the intervals, he will adore her and treat her like a +princess; but he won't spare her the anxiety and the shame of knowing he +is liable to take too much at any reception to which they may send an +acceptance. You haven't seen men as I have, Sally; you don't know how +far they can make babbling fools of themselves, without being absolutely +drunk. To a girl like Beatrix, the shame of it when it does occur, and +the fear of the shame, when it doesn't, would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> worse than sudden +death. That gets over and done with; the other hangs on and grows worse +and worse to an endless end."</p> + +<p>"And you think there's no cure?"</p> + +<p>Once more Bobby shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't take any chances."</p> + +<p>"You think Beatrix can't hold him?"</p> + +<p>"She can for a time; but there's no knowing how long the time will last. +Any medicine loses its effect, if it is repeated often enough."</p> + +<p>"What about Mr. Thayer?"</p> + +<p>"He has more power over Lorimer than anyone else; but he has his own +professional life before him, and it won't be long before New York has a +small share of his time. He isn't going to give up a grand success for +the sake of playing keeper to Sidney Lorimer."</p> + +<p>"I think he is fully capable of the sacrifice."</p> + +<p>"Capable, yes. But it would be a sin to allow it; it would be spoiling a +saint to patch up a sinner. Thayer's future is too broad to be limited +by a futile creature like Lorimer. If he turns Quixotic, I'll poison +him. At least, that will ensure his dying in the full tide of +professional success."</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," Sally answered thoughtfully; "but, do you know, Mr. Thayer is +so perfectly organ<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>ized that I have an idea he could swallow a certain +amount of poison and come out of it unharmed, if his will were really +bent upon accomplishing some definite end."</p> + +<p>There was another interval. It was Sally's turn to break it.</p> + +<p>"Bobby, does it occur to you that we are just exactly where we started? +We both hate Mr. Lorimer; we hate the idea of his marrying Beatrix, and +neither one of us dares interfere. Let's go and talk to Miss Gannion."</p> + +<p>"What's the use?"</p> + +<p>"To clear out our mental ganglia. At least, by the time we have been +over it with her, we shall know what we think, and there's a certain +satisfaction in that."</p> + +<p>"I know just what I think about it now."</p> + +<p>"What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Damn," Bobby replied concisely.</p> + +<p>They found Miss Gannion alone before the fire. She threw down her book +and welcomed them cordially.</p> + +<p>"I had an indolent fit, to-day," she said, as she drew some chairs up +before the hearth. "Once in a while, I prefer to dismiss my clerical +adviser and settle my problems to suit myself. To be sure, I am quite +likely to settle them wrongly; but that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> renews my confidence in +churchly methods, so some good is gained, after all."</p> + +<p>Bobby deliberately placed himself in the chair which long experience of +Miss Gannion's house had taught him best fitted the angles of his +anatomy.</p> + +<p>"We came to have you settle a problem for us," he said; "so we are glad +your hand is in."</p> + +<p>"And the problem," Sally added; "is Beatrix."</p> + +<p>"What about Beatrix?" Miss Gannion asked.</p> + +<p>"She is going to marry Sidney Lorimer, and she mustn't. Please tell us +how we are going to prevent it."</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion sat still for a moment, with her clear eyes fixed on the +glowing embers.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure that it would be best to prevent it?" she asked then.</p> + +<p>Bobby started to his feet, faced about, and stood looking down at the +little figure of his hostess.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gannion, Beatrix and I have been chums ever since we could go +alone. In fact, we learned to go alone by hanging on to each other's +hands. I love her as a fellow without any sisters is bound to love a +girl cousin; and I'll be blest if I can keep quiet and see her throw +herself away."</p> + +<p>"Have you spoken to her about it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't dare," Bobby returned bluntly. "I know I should end by losing +my temper and saying things about Lorimer. I wouldn't hurt Beatrix for +the world, and I believe she honestly thinks she is doing the Lord's own +work in not throwing Lorimer over."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she may be," Miss Gannion said gently.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gannion! Well, if she is, I shall have to revise my notions of the +Lord," Bobby responded hotly.</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion's smile never wavered. She knew Bobby Dane too well to +resent his occasional outbursts.</p> + +<p>"Bobby, my dear boy," she said, with the maternal accent she assumed at +times; "this isn't too easy a problem for any of us; but the hardest +part of its solution is coming on Beatrix. It's not an easy place to put +a woman with a conscience. The old-fashioned idea was to marry a man to +reform him; the new-fashioned practice is to wash your hands of him +altogether, as soon as he makes a single slip. The middle course is the +most difficult one to take and the most thankless. Any good woman is +sure to have a strong hold on the man who loves her; and, in times of +real danger, she is afraid to let go that hold."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bobby shook his head.</p> + +<p>"That's Beatrix all over, Miss Gannion. But it will take a mighty strong +grip to haul Lorimer across to firm ground."</p> + +<p>"I realize that."</p> + +<p>"But the question is, does Beatrix realize it, too," Sally said +abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Better than we can. I think she has measured both the danger and her +own strength."</p> + +<p>Bobby took a turn or two up and down the room. Then he came back to the +hearthrug.</p> + +<p>"She can't do it," he said conclusively. "The odds are all against her. +Lorimer can't pull her down, of course; but he can tug and tug till he +has used up all her strength and she has to let him go. And then what? +Miss Gannion, do you honestly think it worth the while?"</p> + +<p>"No; I do not," she said reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Then why the deuce do you argue for it?" he asked, with a recurrence of +his former temper. "I beg your pardon, Miss Gannion; but this maddens +me, and I came here to have you help me find a way out. Instead, you are +in favor of Beatrix's signing her own death warrant."</p> + +<p>"No," she said slowly. "Down in my heart of hearts, I think it is all a +mistake, a terrible mistake; and I have tried in vain to find a way to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +prevent it. Then, each time I think it over, I am afraid to prevent it, +because it seems to me that Beatrix's mistake is just a little bit +nobler than the safe course which we ourselves would take."</p> + +<p>"Have you heard Mr. Thayer say what he thinks about it?" Sally asked.</p> + +<p>"Not lately."</p> + +<p>Sally's eyes were under less subjection than her tongue, and Miss +Gannion answered the question they so plainly asked.</p> + +<p>"Long ago, before the night of the concert, even, Mr. Thayer spoke of +the matter to me. Since then he has never mentioned it."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would ask him what he thinks now," Sally said bluntly. "He +knows Mr. Lorimer better than any of us do, and he should be able to +judge what we ought to do about it."</p> + +<p>"The honest fact is," Bobby broke in thoughtfully; "we can't one of us +do a solitary thing about it, but get together and grumble. Beatrix +hasn't a clinging, confiding nature; she makes up her own mind and she +doesn't change it easily. If she has decided to marry Lorimer, we can +kneel in a ring at her feet and shed tears by the pint, and all the good +it will do us will be the chance of making her die of pneumonia caused +by the surrounding dampness. But it's a beastly shame! I'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> rather she +married Arlt and done with it. If you've got to form a character, it's +better to start in while the character is young."</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion caught at the opportunity for a digression.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arlt is coming to lunch," she observed.</p> + +<p>"To-day? I didn't know he was back in town."</p> + +<p>"He came last night."</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Thayer with him?"</p> + +<p>"No; Mr. Thayer sings in Boston, last night and to-night. He sent me a +note, saying I might expect him to dinner on Tuesday."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what success Mr. Arlt has had."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thayer sent me some criticisms. They were very enthusiastic, as far +as they went; but that was only a few lines."</p> + +<p>"And the rest of the criticism probably concerned itself with Thayer, +and was discreetly cut away," Bobby said, as he dropped back into his +chair. "Miss Gannion, Arlt is on the steps, and you have not invited us +to stay to lunch, so we must take a reluctant departure. Before I go, +though, I'd like to ask one favor. When Thayer comes, Tuesday night, are +you willing to talk the whole matter over with him and see what he +thinks about it now? There would be a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> consolation to me in +knowing that he disapproved the affair, and he may possibly suggest some +way of breaking it off."</p> + +<p>"Possibly," Miss Gannion assented; "unless it is already too late."</p> + +<p>The words were still ringing in the air, when Arlt came into the room. +They were still ringing in Bobby's ears, ten minutes later, when he and +Sally took their leave.</p> + +<p>"My mental ganglia are cleared," Bobby said disconsolately, as they went +down the steps. "I now see that there is precisely one thing for us to +do, and only one."</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"To grin and bear it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVEN" id="CHAPTER_ELEVEN"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2> + +<p>Beatrix's principles extended even to the point of observing her day at +home. Society was bidden, the next afternoon, to a tea at Mrs. +Stanley's, and Beatrix was absolutely certain that none of her friends +would cross the intervening forty blocks in order to look in upon her, +going or coming. In her secret heart, she longed to follow society; +instead, she was sitting in solitude, when Thayer was announced.</p> + +<p>She rose to greet him with a cordial friendliness, for the past six +months had made a great change in their outward relations. They had +liked each other from the day of Mrs. Stanley's recital, and the liking +had increased with each subsequent meeting. During the next few weeks, +they had met often. Lorimer insisted upon going to every recital at +which Thayer was to sing, and under his guidance Beatrix had gained a +fair idea of what went on behind the scenes. Thayer, meanwhile, had +swiftly assumed his own place in society, and discerning hostesses +generally found it well to put him near to Beatrix at dinner. Owing to +his many evening engagements, Thayer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> usually ate but sparingly, so it +was all the more necessary that he should be placed within range of +someone with whom he cared to talk. He rarely lent himself to the usual +run of social badinage; but retired into his shell whenever it became +the dominant note of the conversation. A man of his bulk and prominence +and potential boredom was an object of hospitable consideration. He +could always talk to Beatrix, for she never chattered. Therefore he was +generally to be found somewhere within the conversational radius of +Beatrix Dane.</p> + +<p>The tea table of Beatrix, moreover, had become one of the focal points +of his New York life. He liked the cheery, informal atmosphere of the +house whose old-fashioned austerity was tempered with a dash of modern +frivolity; he liked the people he met there, people too assured of their +own social position to be touchy upon slight points of social +precedence. Most of all, he liked Beatrix Dane, herself. In the gay, +chattering multitude among whom she moved, her own steadfast quietness +stood out in bold relief, and it answered to certain traits of his own +Puritanism. It was not that she was dull, or overfreighted with +conscience. She frisked with the others of her kind; but her friskiness +was intermittent and never frivolous.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> To Beatrix Dane, pleasure was an +interlude, never the sole end and aim of life. And, on her own side, +Beatrix felt a thorough admiration for the clean-minded, clean-bodied +singer, a thorough reliance upon his judgment and upon his loyalty to +anyone to whom he vouchsafed his friendship.</p> + +<p>This had been the relation between them, on the evening of the concert +for the Fresh Air Fund, a relation whose cordial matter-of-factness was +in no way disturbed by the potent spell of Thayer's voice. Beatrix had +spent much of her life in the open air; she was too healthy to be given +to self-analysis. She admitted to herself the wonderful power of +Thayer's voice, the passionate appeal of certain of his songs; but she +made a curiously sharp distinction between the man and the voice. The +one might be a strong guiding force in the current of her life; the +other was a rising tide that swept her from her moorings and left her +drifting to and fro over stormy seas. On the night of the Fresh Air Fund +concert, for the first time in her experience, these two personalities +had become inextricably intermingled. As she had said, she had never +before realized the possibilities of either Thayer or his voice.</p> + +<p>Everything had conspired to produce the impression. All day long, she +had been haunted by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> a nervous, nameless dread. The vague hints and +signs of the past months had suddenly gathered to a nucleus of anxiety +and alarm, and, in spite of her rigid self-control, she had been +terrified into giving the one outcry, partly to satisfy her feminine +need for sympathy, partly with the hope of putting Lorimer upon his +guard. The sympathy had come, prompt and loving; the warning had been +utterly ignored.</p> + +<p>Music ought to be taken with fasting and prayer. Quiet nerves and a full +stomach are deaf to its deepest meaning. To most of the audience, <i>Honor +and Arms</i> stood as a superb piece of vocal gymnastics; to Beatrix, +Thayer was like a live wire, pulsing with a virile scorn of any but +uneven contests, defiant only of those mightier than himself. To her +mind, he was ready to court heavy odds, bound to conquer them, one and +all; and her own pulses beat faster in time to the half-barbarous +outburst which ends the great aria. The Gade concerto, instead of +soothing her, had only exasperated her. She longed to get behind the +violinist and the orchestra and even the composer himself, and goad them +into some tenseness of emotion. But the Slavonic Dance had set her heart +bounding once more, until her very finger tips tingled with the blood +racing through them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> and the clashing cymbals had seemed scarcely +louder than the ringing of her own ears. The rest had been only the +natural sequel; <i>Danny</i> and Arlt's failure had led inevitably up to the +finale when Thayer's eyes, burning with that new, strange light, had +held her own eyes captive while he had sounded the tragic note which +dominates all human love.</p> + +<p>And the finale had not been final, after all. She had had a vague +presentiment that the cross might be at the end; she had been totally +unprepared to find it pressed to her lips, that selfsame night.</p> + +<p>With a swift excuse, Thayer had hurried her back into the music-room; +but he had not been able to prevent that one instant when Beatrix had +found herself face to face with a Lorimer she had never known till then. +Though her eyes had betrayed her horror of the scene, she had kept her +voice steady as she asked Thayer to call her carriage and to say her +farewells to her hostess.</p> + +<p>Thayer went with her to her own door. Neither of them spoke until they +stood on the steps; then Thayer cleared his throat, but even then his +voice was husky.</p> + +<p>"It may not be as bad as you think, Miss Dane," he said slowly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>As if with a physical effort, she raised her eyes to his.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," she assented; "but I can think of nothing worse."</p> + +<p>It took Thayer two weeks to gather together his courage to see her +again. He too had been shaken by the events of the evening. His Slav +blood, kindled by the Dvorák dance, fired by his anger for Arlt, had +blazed up into a fury of scorn and hatred against the man who would so +allow his own weakness to stab another's strength. Lorimer, in Bobby +Dane's cab and under the lash of Bobby's energetic tongue, was out of +Thayer's way; but, as Thayer stood looking down at the face, whiter than +the fluffy white fur of her cloak, he had felt a momentary longing to +take Beatrix into his arms and, holding her there, to protect her from +Lorimer and from the danger that was threatening her whole happiness. +The moment passed and with it the longing; but, unknown to himself, it +had done its work. It had broken out the beginning of a new channel; it +had prepared the way for a new trend of thought.</p> + +<p>Bobby Dane told him what had actually passed between himself and Lorimer +on the way home, what had probably occurred, the next day, between +Lorimer and Beatrix. Thayer waited before call<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>ing until he hoped the +memory of what had passed was so remote that neither he nor Beatrix +would think of it again. Nevertheless, though Beatrix was surrounded by +callers and upon her guard, the eyes of both drooped before the sudden +consciousness of having faced a crisis side by side.</p> + +<p>According to their annual custom, the Danes went to their cottage at +Monomoy, the first of July, and Lorimer took up his quarters at the +hotel, less than a mile away. Two weeks later, Thayer and Arlt joined +him there. Lorimer had been urgent for Thayer's coming, and Thayer, upon +thinking the matter over, could see no valid reason for refusal. Miss +Gannion was on the way to Alaska, that summer, and, next to her, the +Danes were the closest friends he had made during his first season in +New York. It was only natural that he should arrange his plans in order +to be near them. Moreover, the idle life on the island sounded +attractive, and he was fully aware of the fact that his constant +companionship would be a strong hold upon Lorimer. All in all, he +decided to go.</p> + +<p>He took Arlt with him, on the plea of requiring an accompanist for the +new songs he was studying. The boy needed the change. The stress of New<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +York life was wearing upon him; the consciousness of comparative failure +had disheartened him. He needed the tonic of sea air and of idleness and +of contact with inartistic, care-free humanity. Furthermore, Thayer felt +that he himself might need the tonic of the simple-hearted affection of +the young German. The world about him was too complex. There were days +when the most conventional of incidents seemed weighted with a hidden +meaning, burdened with a consciousness of their own future import.</p> + +<p>The summer days passed swiftly and with a certain monotony. During the +mornings while Thayer was practising, Lorimer and Beatrix idled away the +hours together. Later in the day, Thayer always appeared at Monomoy, +sometimes with Lorimer, sometimes alone. Occasionally Beatrix forsook +them both, and went off for long walks with Arlt or floated lazily about +the harbor with him, leaving her mother to entertain the young men with +garrulous recollections of her own childhood.</p> + +<p>One subject was forever sealed between Beatrix and Thayer, to one +evening's events they neither of them ever alluded. Now and then, at +some careless turn of the conversation, one or the other of them would +stealthily raise his eyes to find the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> other furtively watching him; and +their eyes would drop apart again swiftly. It was obvious to Thayer that +Beatrix was carrying a heavy care, that summer. If Lorimer were tardy in +appearing, she was absent and restless; if he came upon her suddenly, +she started; if he talked or laughed more than usual, she invented an +excuse to take him away from the group, apart from the general +conversation. Occasionally, it was evident to Thayer that she was trying +to take him, himself, off his guard, seeking to make him betray himself, +in case he was sharing in her watchfulness. Upon such occasions, +Thayer's mental armor became as impenetrable as a corselet of steel. If +he were keeping guard over Lorimer, amusing him and circumventing him in +a thousand different ways, it was not only for Lorimer's sake, but for +that of Beatrix as well, and it was imperative that Beatrix should never +know. The day had passed forever when he could look into Miss Gannion's +clear eyes and declare with perfect truthfulness that Beatrix was +nothing in the world to him. He admitted this to himself; he also +admitted that there are an infinite number of gradations between the +opposite poles, nothing and something. There was no especial need of +deciding which one of them marked his present status.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>This Monday afternoon was the first time he had seen Beatrix since early +September. He had left the others at Monomoy and, in company with Arlt, +had gone back to the city to put himself in training for some autumn +festivals at which he had been engaged to sing. By the time Beatrix was +back in town once more, he had started upon what was destined to be a +triumphal progress through New England. To some men, the mere +professional success would have been enough in itself; but Thayer was of +too large calibre to find a steady diet of applause and adjectives, both +in the superlative degree of comparison, either a satisfactory or a +stimulating meal. Often and often, as he bowed across the footlights +preparatory to shouldering and lugging off his ponderous wreath of +laurels, he would have given all the evening's triumph for the sake of +one quiet hour upon the Monomoy beach.</p> + +<p>The evening before had been the climax of his empty successes. It had +been Boston's first oratorio of the season, and the wreath had been an +unusually ponderous one. It had met him promptly at the end of his first +number, and it had impressed him as a curious bit of irony, following as +it did upon the closing phrases of <i>Spe modo Vivitur</i>. Were his crowns +to be only the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> thornless, characterless ones that went with his +profession? He bowed low, nevertheless, before the storm of applause, +set up his trophy against the steadiest of the music racks of the second +violins, and lost himself so completely in wondering how Lorimer was +holding out without him that he went through his part in the quartette, +three numbers later, in perfect unconsciousness of the hostile glances +which the soprano had been casting at him during the <i>Est tibi Laurea</i>. +Her flowers had been carnations, and only two dozen of them, at that.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon, Thayer found himself in the familiar room, with +Beatrix's hand in his own.</p> + +<p>"Only ten weeks, measured by time," he answered her greeting; "but it +seems half a decade since we were killing time on the beach at Monomoy."</p> + +<p>"Killing crabs, you would better say," she returned, with a smile. "I +think you and Sidney must have exterminated the race for all time."</p> + +<p>"Can you destroy the future for a race that habitually goes backwards?" +he questioned, with a boyish gayety which she had never seen in him +before. "How is Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>No one else but Thayer would have noted the slight hesitation that +punctuated her reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He is—well."</p> + +<p>Thayer's momentary gayety left him, and he glanced at her sharply.</p> + +<p>"And you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am always in rude health, just now the better for having you invade +my loneliness. Do you still take only one lump?" Her tone was perfectly +noncommittal.</p> + +<p>"Only one. How does it happen that I have the good luck to find you +alone?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody is at Mrs. Stanley's. She has captured a new lion, and has +bidden the world to come and inspect her prey."</p> + +<p>Thayer laughed.</p> + +<p>"What is he, this time?"</p> + +<p>"Not he at all; it is a full-fledged Japanese princess whose husband +does lectures on some sort of theosophy before all the universities. +Your lustre is totally eclipsed by this new comet." There was a short +silence; then Beatrix added inconsequently, "We all of us have been so +delighted at your success, Mr. Thayer."</p> + +<p>He did not take the trouble to discount the fact; but merely asked,—</p> + +<p>"How did you know about it?"</p> + +<p>"We have followed you in the papers. Bobby had some, and I think Sidney +must have bought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> tons of them. He even talked of subscribing to a +clipping bureau. He has read them aloud to us, every night; and we all +have tried to act as if it were nothing so very unusual to have one of +our friends winning laurels by the wholesale."</p> + +<p>"They were very concrete laurels, too, Miss Dane," he returned +indifferently, though his face had lighted at her eager accent. "Some of +the wreaths must have been four feet across, and I invariably tripped +over the ribbons, when I carried them off the stage. I did wish they +would furnish a dray; garlands are horribly in the way in a carriage."</p> + +<p>"And then what became of them?"</p> + +<p>Thayer shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Ask the chambermaids along the route. I don't mean to be +unappreciative; but not even the most trusting of publics could expect +me to bear my trophies away in my arms, next morning. I came to wish I +could ship them back to the florist, to be presented to some other +baritone, the next night."</p> + +<p>"But you enjoyed the trip?"</p> + +<p>"After a fashion. I enjoyed the summer more, though."</p> + +<p>"There is a certain satisfaction in dropping off the social harness now +and then, and we were com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>paratively primitive at Monomoy," she +assented. "The whole summer would have been worth while, just for the +sake of seeing Mr. Arlt enjoy it. Has he come back yet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, two days ago. The trip has meant a good deal to him, and already +he is engaged for two festivals in the spring. I am hoping that a taste +of success will give him more self-reliance. He needs it, if ever he is +to impose himself upon the dear public. Even the critics are prone to +take a man at his own valuation, and one of the best American musicians +is working in a corner, to-day, because he finds it a good deal more +interesting to work towards future successes than to exploit his past +ones in the eyes of the world."</p> + +<p>Beatrix smiled, half in assent, half in amusement at his sudden energy.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arlt will succeed in time; he is only a boy yet. But, with genius +and energy and his real love for his art, there can be no doubt of his +future."</p> + +<p>"That is as fate may decree," Thayer answered.</p> + +<p>"Or Providence," she corrected him.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Miss Dane, the more I know of life, I am learning to write fate in +capitals, and to spell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> Providence with a little <i>p</i>. Things are pretty +well cut out for us."</p> + +<p>She glanced at him with sudden intentness.</p> + +<p>"Then I hope the scissors are sharp, and that Moira carries a steady +hand. We have to put up with our own indecisions; those of other people +are maddening."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't that depend upon what the decision finally proves to be?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Her eyes had gone back to the fire, and her face was very grave.</p> + +<p>"No; I would rather know where I am going. Anything is better than +drifting; it is a comfort to look steadily forward to the best or to the +worst." Suddenly she roused herself. "Mr. Thayer, do you realize that it +is two months since I have heard you sing?"</p> + +<p>He roused himself quite as suddenly. In the slight pause which had +broken her speech, he had been making a swift, but futile effort to +chart the future. He knew that Lorimer was drifting carelessly, +thoughtlessly; he also knew that Beatrix was allowing herself to drift +idly in his wake. And how about himself? And would they all make the +same port in the end? If not, where would the diverging currents be +waiting for them?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>His brain was working intently; but his voice was quite conventional, as +he rose.</p> + +<p>"I hoped you would ask me. After a month or two of singing to strangers, +I begin to feel the need of something a little more personal. Will you +have the new songs, or the old?"</p> + +<p>"The old, of course," she answered unhesitatingly.</p> + +<p>He improvised for a moment; then he began to sing,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The hours I spent with thee, dear heart,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Are as a string of pearls to me.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I count them over one by</i>—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Abruptly he stopped singing and struck a dozen resonant major chords.</p> + +<p>"What a disgustingly sentimental thing that is!" he said sharply. "After +our summer at Monomoy in the sea air, we need an atmosphere of ozone, +not of laughing gas."</p> + +<p>And he played the prelude of <i>Die Beiden Grenadieren</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWELVE" id="CHAPTER_TWELVE"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2> + +<p>Arlt dropped in at Thayer's rooms, the next afternoon, and sat looking +on while his friend put himself into his evening clothes, preparatory to +dining with Miss Gannion.</p> + +<p>"I walked up here with Mr. Dane," he observed, after a thoughtful +interval. "What an American he is!"</p> + +<p>"American?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. No other country but yours can produce such people. France tries +it, and fails. A Frenchman takes his frivolity in earnest. Mr. Dane is +like that little <i>Scherzo</i> by Faulkes, the one that frisks on and on, +and all of a sudden comes to an end with a loud <i>Ha ha</i> over its own +absurdity. Mr. Dane delights in his own talk, just as you delight in +your singing."</p> + +<p>"He is not self-conscious," Thayer objected quickly.</p> + +<p>"Neither are you. Each of you has a gift, and you each delight in using +it. That is not saying that you either of you regard it as the only gift +in the world. Instead, having it, you make the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> of it, to let it +grow and to put it in the way of giving pleasure to other people."</p> + +<p>Thayer smiled, in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"To paraphrase you, Arlt, what a German you are! Nobody else would +attempt to philosophize concerning Bobby Dane."</p> + +<p>"Why not? He is worth it, for he has other gifts than his wit."</p> + +<p>"Did he say anything about Lorimer?" Thayer asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"He spoke of him once or twice."</p> + +<p>"Anything especial?"</p> + +<p>"N-o."</p> + +<p>There had been a slight hesitation. The next instant, Arlt felt Thayer's +keen eyes upon him.</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong with Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>"What should there be?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing should be. I asked if anything is."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dane would hardly discuss his friends with me." Arlt's tone was +noncommittal.</p> + +<p>"Now, see here, Arlt, don't get obstinate. We both know Lorimer's +failing. Have you heard anything new about him?"</p> + +<p>Arlt stared hard at the carpet.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lorimer was very good to the mother and Katarina," he said, in his +slow, deliberate English.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That may be. Mr. Lorimer has been good to a great many people, and we +aren't going to forget it. That doesn't keep us from knowing his +weakness."</p> + +<p>"No," Arlt said simply; "but it might keep us from discussing it."</p> + +<p>Thayer's lips shut closely for an instant. He felt a rebuke which Arlt +would never have dared to intend.</p> + +<p>"It might; but it does not. We both know it, and there is no harm in our +talking it over. Lorimer is weak and foolish; he isn't nearly so bad as +many men we know. The taint is in his blood, and he is too easy-going to +fight it out."</p> + +<p>"But he did fight, last summer," Arlt urged.</p> + +<p>Thayer's thoughts flew backwards to one night, in Lorimer's room at the +hotel. It seemed to him he could still see Lorimer's flushed face, still +hear against the background of noises that marred the stillness of the +August moonlight outside the window, the high-pitched, insistent voice +of the man who sat on the edge of the bed, arguing about the necessity +of unlacing his shoes before taking them off. The next morning, Beatrix +had received a note from Thayer, apologizing for carrying Lorimer off +for a day's fishing. Cotton<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> Mather himself might well have envied the +grim fervor of the sermon preached by his namesake, that sunshiny summer +day. The old-time hell gave place to a more modern theory of +retribution; but the terrors were painted with a black-tipped brush, and +Lorimer had shuddered, as he listened. For the once, Thayer had made no +effort to avoid rousing his antagonism. Lorimer had been more angry than +ever before in his life; then the inevitable reaction had come, and it +had been a penitent, hopeful sinner who had walked up the pier at +Thayer's side, late in the afternoon. But Arlt, who had been playing +Chopin at Monomoy, all the previous evening, was quite at a loss to +understand how a single day's fishing could so completely exhaust a +strong man like Thayer.</p> + +<p>Arlt changed his phrase to the direct question.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think he fought with the best that was in him?"</p> + +<p>And Thayer assented with perfect truthfulness,—</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Then we ought to ask for nothing more."</p> + +<p>"If he stood alone. Unfortunately he doesn't."</p> + +<p>Arlt raised his brows.</p> + +<p>"But the risk is hers."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thayer untied his necktie with a long, deliberate pull, and made a +second attempt to arrange it to his liking. At length he turned from the +mirror and faced Arlt.</p> + +<p>"Would you be willing to allow Katarina to take such a risk?"</p> + +<p>"No," Arlt answered honestly, after an interval.</p> + +<p>Neither man spoke for some time. Arlt was unwilling to continue the +subject, and Thayer knew from experience the uselessness of trying to +force him to talk when he was minded to keep silence. It was Arlt, +however, who finally broke the silence, and his subject was one utterly +remote from Lorimer.</p> + +<p>"I have heard from the mother, to-day," he said suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Good news, I hope." Thayer's tone was as hearty as if he had felt no +passing annoyance at the boy's stubborn reticence.</p> + +<p>"The best that can be for them. An old cousin has died, and they are his +heirs."</p> + +<p>"Good! Is it much?"</p> + +<p>"Enough so they can live in comfort, whatever happens to me."</p> + +<p>"And enough so that you can live in comfort, without anxiety for them," +Thayer supplemented kindly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Without anxiety; I can do without the comfort," Arlt replied. "I have +worried sometimes."</p> + +<p>Crossing the room, Thayer laid his hand on the boy's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"And you have borne the worry very pluckily, too, Arlt. It has been hard +for you, this first year in America, with the double care for them and +for yourself. I hope things are going to be easier now."</p> + +<p>"It will be a help in my work," he assented. Then he added, with a +sudden effort which showed how dear the subject was to his heart, "I +think I shall now have a few more lessons in counterpoint."</p> + +<p>"More?" Thayer said interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I had already studied for two years."</p> + +<p>"And you want to compose?"</p> + +<p>"When I know enough. Not till then."</p> + +<p>"It takes something besides the knowing, to make a composer, Arlt," +Thayer said warningly.</p> + +<p>"I know. But I think I have something to say, when I am ready," the boy +answered, with simple directness.</p> + +<p>"But, if you wanted to study counterpoint, why didn't you say so? You +knew I would lend you the money."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you would give me everything; but I could never accept this."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>Arlt looked up, and even Thayer, well as he knew him, was surprised at +the sudden concentration of character in the boy's face.</p> + +<p>"One will be helped in the small things, never in accomplishing the real +purpose of his life. Each one of us must work that out for himself. +Then, if he succeeds or fails, at least the result is of his own +making."</p> + +<p>Dismissing four or five importunate cab drivers with a brief shake of +his head, Thayer went striding away up the Avenue towards Miss Gannion's +house. As he went, he was half-consciously applying Arlt's words to the +question of his own future. It was true enough that he must work out his +own real purpose for himself; and, in one sense the unsuccessful boy was +happier by far than the successful man. Arlt's purpose was single. +Thayer's was two-fold, and as yet he could not determine which of them +would prove to be the dominant impulse of his life.</p> + +<p>"Really, it does seem very good to drop back into the old ways," Miss +Gannion said contentedly, two hours later.</p> + +<p>The loitering, lingering dinner was over; the servants had been +instructed to admit no other guests, and Miss Gannion was snuggled back +in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> her deep chair, gazing up at Thayer who stood on the rug with his +hands idly locked behind his back. In this room which showed so plainly +its feminine occupancy, he seemed uncommonly virile, and Miss Gannion, +watching him, felt a momentary exultation in his virility. Most of the +men whom she knew, put on a feminine languor as an adjunct to their +evening clothes. Thayer looked down upon her with manifest approval. +After months of separation, it was good to find himself in the presence +of this woman to whom he was allowed to speak freely his real opinion. +Miss Gannion by no means always agreed with him; but she usually +understood his point of view and was willing to admit its weight. +Moreover, she was able to discuss without losing her temper, and she +belonged to that species of good listener who understands that an +occasional word of comprehension is worth more than hours of mere silent +attention.</p> + +<p>"It is refreshing to get back to a place where my personality counts for +something," Thayer assured her. "The past two months have left me +feeling as if I had not a friend in the world, nothing but audiences."</p> + +<p>"What an ingrate you are! Most of us would be willing to have that kind +of impersonality."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Would you?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said candidly. "I'm not large enough for that."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't have occurred to me that it was any indication of +largeness."</p> + +<p>"To be able to resign your own individuality, for the sake of the +pleasure you can give other people? That seems to me rather large."</p> + +<p>"It depends. I think I would rather concentrate my efforts, person on +person, instead of spreading myself out like a vast impersonal plaster."</p> + +<p>She laughed a little, though her eyes were very grave.</p> + +<p>"You might apply your theory here and now. Go and sing to me, not a new +song, but one of the old favorites."</p> + +<p>Obediently he crossed the room to the piano where he sat for an hour, +now singing, now stopping to comment on a song or to relate some of his +experiences of the past two months. Later that night, when Miss Gannion +was thinking over the talk of the evening, it suddenly occurred to her +that he had made no reference at all to the summer. At length he rose to +return to the fire.</p> + +<p>"No," she objected. "There is one song still lacking. You've not sung +<i>The Rosary</i> yet."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>His stride across the room never hesitated, although duller ears than +his own could not have mistaken the wish in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I have worn out <i>The Rosary</i>," he said briefly. "I shall have to let it +rest for a while."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry. I loved it."</p> + +<p>He laughed mirthlessly.</p> + +<p>"It is the weakest kind of sentimentality, Miss Gannion. The song itself +amounts to very little; it is merely a question of the key."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she repeated, still a little sadly. "I have cared a good +deal for the song."</p> + +<p>Thayer made no answer, and she sat looking up at him with a steady +wishfulness which made him uneasy. Her next words, though chosen by +chance, increased his uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Miss Dane, since you came back?"</p> + +<p>"I was there, yesterday."</p> + +<p>"How did she seem to you?"</p> + +<p>His steady eyes met hers without wavering.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand what you mean by the question."</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion varied the form of her words.</p> + +<p>"Did you think she looked well?"</p> + +<p>"Very."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And yet, I don't think Beatrix is happy," Miss Gannion said, half to +herself.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"How can she be? Beatrix is not dense. She thinks things, and she must +know the uncertainty of the future."</p> + +<p>"But I thought it was quite certain." There was a level monotony in +Thayer's accent.</p> + +<p>"You think Mr. Lorimer has really reformed and is out of danger?" Miss +Gannion asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"I wish he had," Thayer answered half involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"Then there is still trouble?"</p> + +<p>But already Thayer was once more upon his guard.</p> + +<p>"I have heard of nothing since I came home."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Mr. Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>There was a curt brevity in his manner which was new to Miss Gannion. In +spite of herself, it set her to wondering whether prosperity had been +good for her friend, whether the consciousness of his own importance +were making him indifferent to the interests of others. Perhaps, after +all, it was true that he was becoming impersonal. He might be growing +larger; he was certainly grow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>ing more remote from her life. Miss +Gannion cared for Thayer. Now, while she watched him, her eyes were +lighted with an almost fierce affection, even though her disappointment +made her voice take on a hard, metallic ring, as she asked,—</p> + +<p>"Are you turning your back upon the problem of your old friend, Mr. +Thayer?"</p> + +<p>"No," he answered; "but I thought we had solved it, in this very room."</p> + +<p>She raised her brows interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"'To say our prayers, and wait,'" he quoted.</p> + +<p>Her momentary distrust of him weakened, and her face lighted, as she +heard him quoting her own words, spoken so long ago.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I—we all—think it is time—think it may be a mistake."</p> + +<p>He lifted his eyes from the fire, looked at her steadily for a minute, +and then stared into the fire again. She grew restless with the +stillness.</p> + +<p>"And we thought perhaps you could say something."</p> + +<p>"To—?" he asked, without raising his eyes.</p> + +<p>"To Mr. Lorimer."</p> + +<p>"What could I say?"</p> + +<p>"Something to break it off."</p> + +<p>In spite of himself, he laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"Would you advise threats or bribery, Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> Gannion? I really can't +imagine any argument that would lead Lorimer to give up Miss Dane of his +own accord."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you put it to him strongly that he has no moral right to hold +her to her promise?"</p> + +<p>"I could; but he would probably put it to me just as strongly that I +have no moral right to interfere in his concerns."</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion sat up straight, bracing her elbows against the sides of +her chair.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thayer, have you any idea that Mr. Lorimer will ever give up +drinking, drinking more than is good for him?"</p> + +<p>"I have not."</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea that Beatrix, if she marries him, can escape years of +anxiety and wretchedness?"</p> + +<p>"I have not," he answered again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how cold you are!" she cried, in passionate revolt against his even +tone. "Don't you care anything at all for Beatrix?"</p> + +<p>If he flinched at her question, he rallied again too quickly for her to +discover it. Then he looked her squarely in the eye.</p> + +<p>"I would do anything in my power to protect Miss Dane; but this is a +case where I have no right to speak to her. I have spoken to Lorimer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +again and again, urging him to control himself for her sake. Beyond +that, I have no right to go."</p> + +<p>"But you said once that you thought she ought to be told."</p> + +<p>"That was months ago. She found out, without being told."</p> + +<p>"Not all."</p> + +<p>"Enough."</p> + +<p>"But, if she knew all about it, all that you know, Beatrix Dane would +never marry Sidney Lorimer."</p> + +<p>"Very likely not."</p> + +<p>"Then you ought to tell her. What right have you to suppress facts that +would change her whole point of view? You have it in your power to save +Beatrix Dane. Once you were willing to do it." She had risen and stood +on the rug, facing him. Stung by his coldness and by her disappointment +in him, she allowed a sudden note of hostility to creep into her voice, +and it cut Thayer like the edge of a steel knife.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said, after a pause; "but it is too late for that now, +Miss Gannion."</p> + +<p>His words were more true than he realized. When, after a half-hour of +uncomfortable, disjointed talk, he said good-night and went away, he +found Lorimer waiting for him in his own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> rooms. Thayer's greeting was +curt, for he was still smarting from the memory of his talk with Miss +Gannion. He had been impenetrable to her questions, but not to her +sharpness, and he was hurt by the disapproval she had shown. It was the +first time he had heard the curious icy tone in her voice; it had struck +a jarring note in their friendship. For the time being, Miss Gannion had +distrusted him; but at least she had gained no idea of the cause of his +changed attitude. For so much, he was thankful. He had saved his own +respect at the risk of forfeiting that of Miss Gannion.</p> + +<p>Lorimer met him excitedly; but Thayer's experienced eye saw that the +excitement had no alcoholic basis.</p> + +<p>"Congratulations, old fellow! Everything is settled at last, and we are +to be married, early in January. I came straight to you, for I knew you +would be delighted. Of course, I shall count on you as best man."</p> + +<p>It would never have occurred to Thayer that there was need to brace +himself against any possible shock. For a minute, the droplight on the +table seemed to be dancing a Russian <i>trépac</i>. Then, just as it was +ready to fall, he heard his own voice saying, with exactly the proper +degree of cordiality,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I do congratulate you, Lorimer, and I am delighted that it is settled."</p> + +<p>Later on, he knew that he had spoken the truth.</p> + +<p>"And you will be best man?" Lorimer questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Who else has better claim?" The conventional note was still there; +Thayer felt its aloofness far more than Lorimer, absorbed in his own +joy, was able to do. The silence was short; then Thayer mastered himself +again. "Lorimer," he said quietly; "I certainly do congratulate you, for +you have been able to gain one of the noblest women in the world. Your +happiness ought to be great; but you have taken a fearful responsibility +along with it. At your best you can be worthy of her; but, if you fall +one inch below your best level, you will deserve to be flayed alive. You +have gone into this with your eyes open. You know that you can make +Beatrix Dane's life a heaven or a hell. You and I both know the danger; +we know that she is running a terrible risk in marrying you, and that +you yourself are the only person who can save her from shame and sorrow. +For God's sake, Lorimer, do all you can to make yourself live up to the +best that is in you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2> + +<p>Late March found Thayer just completing a long circle. He had gone to +Chicago by way of Washington; he was coming back by way of Canada and +New England. Oratorio societies were rampant, that Lent, and he had been +the popular baritone of the season, completely ousting from public favor +the bass who had monopolized the applause for six or seven years +previous. He had fainted under Elijah's juniper tree times without +number, until he had learned to watch with cynical interest for the +phrase which never failed to draw forth the tears. He had even taken +part in one grand operatic rendition of the work, when the audience had +been half strangled by the too realistic fumes from the altar, and the +chorus, huddled at the back of the stage, had sung the <i>Rain Chorus</i> off +the key, to the accompaniment of the torrent which poured down in a thin +sheet just back of the curtain, raining neither on the just nor on the +unjust, but falling accurately into the groove for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> the footlights +between them. He had sung <i>The Messiah</i> and <i>Arminius</i> until they were a +weariness to his flesh, and <i>Hiawatha's</i> call to <i>Gitche Manito, the +Mighty</i> had become second nature to his tongue. He had moments of acute +longing to astound his audience with a German student song, and, upon +his off nights, he fell into the vaudeville habit. Not even his +Puritanism could enjoy an unlimited diet of oratorio.</p> + +<p>At first there had been some question of his giving a number of recitals +at different points on his journey; but he had renounced the idea. Arlt +was grinding away at counterpoint under the best master to be found in +New York, and Arlt was the only accompanist with whom Thayer cared to +sing. The boy had no notion that Thayer needed him; neither did he have +any idea of the discrepancy between his own payments and the actual fees +of the great musician with whom Thayer had advised him to study. Week by +week, he brought his few dollars, without once suspecting that Thayer's +monthly checks were really paying for the lessons.</p> + +<p>Arlt had fallen to work with the eagerness born of long and enforced +abstinence. Certain musical themes had been haunting him for the past +two years; yet he had known that he lacked the train<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>ing which should +enable him to develop them properly, and, with rare self-denial, rather +than spoil them he had turned his back upon them and tried to forget +them. Now, however, his work was beginning to tell upon him, and his +teacher was more and more encouraging, while the old themes came back to +him, grown and enriched by their season of lying fallow. Spurred on by +the consciousness of all this, Arlt was hard at work upon an overture +with which he hoped to greet Thayer on his return to the city. Day by +day, the overture was growing. It was boyish; yet it was dignified and +original.</p> + +<p>On the last morning of his trip, Thayer came down the steps of his +hotel, halted to stare about him at the streets of the leisurely little +city, and then sauntered away towards the hall where the rehearsal was +to take place. It was still early; nevertheless, as he came within sight +of the building, he found the street filled with the members of the +orchestra who, thriftily refusing cabs, had marched up from the station +in a solid phalanx, laden with all manner of strange-looking bags and +cases. Thayer nodded to them with a certain eagerness. After two months +of wandering, it was good to find himself once more within the New York +radius. He had sung with these men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> often; they knew every trick of his +voice, and he could count upon them not to break into a galloping rhythm +in the midst of a minor <i>andante</i>. His face lighted, and his tongue fell +into his beloved German idioms, as he went up the stairs with a bass +viol and a bassoon on either hand.</p> + +<p>The director of the chorus was also a New York man, and Thayer shook +hands with him cordially, wondering, meanwhile, how it chanced that one +short year had made him feel that New York was home to him. The director +knew Arlt's teacher, too. He had heard of the young German's promise, +and it was with some regret that Thayer heard him break off from these +congenial themes, for the sake of introducing him to the officers of the +society who were unduly agitated by the consciousness that they had +captured both Thayer and the latest English tenor who had landed only +the week before and was to make his American début, that evening.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the hall was filling fast. The chorus, chattering with the +nervous vivacity which always heralds a concert, were crowding into the +fraction of space allotted to them; and, in the open floor beyond, the +musicians of the orchestra were gathered into little groups, unpacking +their instruments, unfolding their racks and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> eying the chorus with +metropolitan disdain. Here and there a violinist, his violin at his +shoulder, sauntered up and down the floor, alternately drawing his bow +across the strings and lowering it again, while he tightened them. Then, +in answer to the call from the oboe, the whole place grew filled with +their din, discordant at first, but slowly coming into more and more +perfect harmony, uniting upon the single note, breaking again into +countless changing tones, only to yield once more to the single <i>A</i>, +caught, dropped during an instant's pause, then caught again and held in +long-drawn, jubilant sonority.</p> + +<p>On the heels of the other soloists, Thayer picked his way up the narrow +aisle at the right of the tenors, and took his seat upon the little +stage. As he did so, he discovered a diminutive gallery directly over +the main entrance to the hall. Side by side in the gallery sat two men, +the president of the chorus and Bobby Dane.</p> + +<p>Bobby was beaming down at him placidly, and Thayer's face lighted at the +unexpected sight of his friend. Bobby nodded occasionally, to mark his +approval of the music; then, at the end of Thayer's first solo, he laid +his score on the gallery rail and led off a volley of applause which, +echoing back from the chorus, roused Bobby to such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> pitch of +enthusiasm that he knocked the score off the rail and sent it tumbling +down among the rear ranks of the altos.</p> + +<p>"Why the unmentionable mischief do you waste your energies, singing like +that at a rehearsal?" he demanded abruptly of Thayer, as he joined him +on the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Where the unmentionable mischief did you come from?" Thayer responded, +seizing Bobby's hand in his own firm clasp.</p> + +<p>"New York. Just came up, this morning. I'm doing the concert, to-night."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I was under the impression that I was going to do a part of it, +myself."</p> + +<p>"Musically. I represent the power of the Press."</p> + +<p>"As critic?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"How long since?"</p> + +<p>"To-day. The regular critic is busy with a domestic funeral, his +grandmother, or step-mother, or something, and it lay between the devil +and me to take his place. Strange to say, the Chief chose me; but he was +morose enough to say the old lady shouldn't have died, just when all the +other papers in town were sending up their best critics."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But how do you expect to get up a criticism?"</p> + +<p>Bobby smiled up at him in smug satisfaction over his own wiliness.</p> + +<p>"By caressing the mammon of unrighteousness. I know you; likewise the +president of this chorus was in my prep. school. I happened to hear of +him, last week, and I am banking on the fact for all it is worth. +Therefore I have two strings to my bow. That's more than one of your +second violins did. To my certain knowledge, he wrecked two strings in +the overture and one in the prelude of your first solo. After that, I +got interested and lost count."</p> + +<p>"Do you expect us to dictate our own praises?"</p> + +<p>"Not much. I am too canny for that. Besides, don't be too sure they will +be praises. No; I have asked the president, in strict confidence, just +what he thinks of you, and his answer was properly garrulous. His +originality was startling, too. He observed that you have temperament. +Now I am proceeding to ask you, also in strict confidence, what you +think of the chorus."</p> + +<p>"That it has intemperament," Thayer responded promptly. "Dane, I abhor +that word."</p> + +<p>"Is that the reason you coined its negative?"</p> + +<p>"No; but it gets on my nerves. When it started out into service, it +meant something; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> now it is used to express everything, from real +artistic feeling down to the way a man rolls up his eyes when he sings +love songs. I wish you newspaper men would bring out something new to +take its place. You can do it; you generally set the fashion in words."</p> + +<p>"I'll ask Lee, when he gets over his funeral," Bobby suggested. "It is +out of my line. I am a greater artist than he is, a typographical song +without words. I do scareheads, and buffet the devil. Thayer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Do you honestly enjoy this sort of thing?"</p> + +<p>Thayer glanced down at the muddy crossing where they stood waiting for a +car to pass.</p> + +<p>"No. I prefer an occasional street-cleaning episode; but what can you +expect in a March thaw?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that," Bobby said impatiently. "I'm not joking now."</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon," Thayer returned briefly. "What do you mean, Dane?"</p> + +<p>"I mean all this tramping round the country, singing to strange people, +getting applause at night and reading about yourself, next day. Doesn't +it get a frightful bore, after the dozenth time you've been through +it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The applause and the audience and the criticisms, yes. The singing, +no," Thayer said, after an interval.</p> + +<p>"And you're willing to put up with one for the sake of the other?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Bobby dodged a shower of mud from a passing cab.</p> + +<p>"Well, tastes differ, then. In New York, we've been going on the same +old routine, and yet no two days have been alike, except in the minor +detail of missing you at places. You have been in twenty different +cities, and I'd be willing to bet that your routine hasn't varied: +sleeper, hotel, rehearsal, concert, applause, wreath, supper, hotel, +bed, and so on around the circuit again and again. And you say the +singing pays for it. It does pay us; but you can't hear yourself, +Thayer, not to get any good of it. If it isn't the applause and such +stuff, what do you do it for?"</p> + +<p>Thayer glanced down at the man beside him. He liked Bobby Dane, and, for +the moment, he felt moved to discard his customary reticence in regard +to his art.</p> + +<p>"For the sake of feeling myself picked up and carried along by something +quite outside myself, something I am powerless to analyze, or to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +master; yet something that I can help to express," he answered.</p> + +<p>Bobby accepted the lesson in silence. Then of a sudden his whimsical fun +reasserted itself.</p> + +<p>"Must feel a good deal like getting drunk," he commented gravely. "And +<i>ŕ propos des bottes</i>, Beatrix is at home again."</p> + +<p>Thayer's shoulders straightened, his step grew rhythmic once more.</p> + +<p>"When did she come?"</p> + +<p>"She landed, ten days ago, and they went right to the new house. She is +going to send out cards for Mondays in May; but, meanwhile, we are +coming in for an earlier event. There's a note at your rooms now, asking +you to dine with them, next Monday."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Because, like a coy maiden, I named the day. It is a sort of +post-nuptial event, the maid of honor, the best man, and the master of +ceremonies, meaning myself. She wasn't going to ask me, because it would +spoil the number; but I told her I would make a point of being there, +and that Monday was my most convenient day. It will give us our first +chance to talk over the wedding."</p> + +<p>"How does she—Mrs. Lorimer look?"</p> + +<p>"She Mrs. Lorimer looks very natural," Bobby<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> replied gravely. "As a +rule, we only say a person looks natural after his demise; but I assure +you that Beatrix is very much alive."</p> + +<p>"And happy?" Thayer asked involuntarily.</p> + +<p>Bobby gave him a swift, sharp glance. Then he resumed his former +nonchalant air.</p> + +<p>"As happy as one always is at landing after five days of acute +sea-sickness. They pursued a storm, all the way home. They didn't catch +it, though, except in the figurative sense of our remote childhood. I +never saw Beatrix look so happy in her life as when she planted her +second foot safely on the pier."</p> + +<p>"What about Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>Bobby shook his broad shoulders, with the air of a man shaking off a +disagreeable subject.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's all right," he said shortly.</p> + +<p>Together the two men idled away the afternoon. Bobby would fain have +introduced Thayer to his own brother craftsmen who infested the hotel in +the hope of getting speech with the artists; but Thayer had little +liking for being interviewed, and preferred to divide his time between +his own room and the streets. He and Bobby had an apparently limitless +fund of talk, and their conversation wandered at will over the events of +the past two months. However, as all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> roads lead to Rome, so all +subjects led to Beatrix. When they came around to her in their +discussion, Thayer invariably changed the subject; yet even a few words +on a constantly recurring theme can end by illuminating that theme +perfectly, provided only that it recurs often enough. By the time Thayer +was dressing for the concert, that night, he was in full possession of +all Bobby Dane's facts concerning his cousin, and he was convinced that +all was not well with Lorimer.</p> + +<p>With a commendable spirit of originality, the officers of the chorus had +broken away from the established rule which proclaimed it an <i>Elijah</i> +season, and had chosen to give <i>St. Paul</i>, that night. Thayer liked the +oratorio. It seemed to him more original, more inspired, infinitely more +human than the other. Moreover, it would be restful to keep silent and +let the tenor warble himself to a lingering death. Even fiery chariots +become monotonous in time, and an indignant mob affords a welcome +variety. He had not heard the tenor since they had sung together in +Berlin, two years before, and he was looking forward to the evening with +a good deal of pleasure.</p> + +<p>To his surprise and annoyance, he found the music stopping short at his +tympani, powerless to enter his brain. When he jolted himself out of +his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> train of subconscious thought, he was aware that the orchestra was +superb, that his old friend, the tenor, had added many cubits to his +artistic stature, during the past two years, that he himself, Cotton +Mather Thayer, would have to use his best efforts if he did not wish to +occupy an entirely subordinate place upon the programme. Then he +recurred to his thought of Beatrix and Lorimer. If Lorimer had not kept +a straight course during his honeymoon, what hope was there for either +himself or Beatrix in the many, many moons to come?</p> + +<p>The strings and the wind took up the <i>Allegro</i>, and Thayer rose. +Lorimer, if he had been present, would have known what to expect from +the straightening of his shoulders and the sudden squaring of his jaw; +but Bobby Dane, who had been watching the apathy in which his friend was +buried, was distinctly nervous. Then, at the first note, his nervousness +vanished, leaving in its place only wondering admiration. Bobby had +supposed he knew what Thayer could do; but he was totally unprepared for +the furious dignity with which the singer rendered his aria,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Consume them all,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Pour out Thine indignation, and let them feel Thy power.</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>The applause did not wait for the orchestra to slide comfortably back to +the tonic. It broke out promptly upon the final note, and it satisfied +even Bobby. Thayer bowed his acknowledgments, and then returned to his +reverie; but he roused himself again at the <i>Adagio</i> which announced his +second aria.</p> + +<p>Then it was, in Paul's outcry for mercy, for the blotting out of his +transgressions, that Bobby Dane understood what Thayer had meant, that +noon, when he had spoken of being carried along by something outside of +himself. Bobby knew Thayer as a quiet, self-contained man of the world; +the Thayer who was singing that great aria was on fire with a passionate +madness, tingling with unfulfilled longing, striving against his whole +temperament for peace and for pardon. Bobby knew all this; he dimly +realized, moreover, that the singer was fired by love for the wife of +his friend, burning with the surety that his friend was unworthy of her, +and struggling with all the manhood there was in him to face that love +and that surety with the stoic calm of one of his Puritan ancestors, to +quench the fire and to cover the ashes.</p> + +<p>Bobby joined him in the wings, at the close of the concert. Even in the +dim light, he could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> see that Thayer looked whiter than his wont, and +that the veins in his temples stood out like knotted cords.</p> + +<p>"What business have you to be doing oratorio?" Bobby demanded, as soon +as they could struggle a little apart from the gossiping, gushing ranks +of the chorus which surrounded them, pulling surreptitious bits from +Thayer's mammoth wreath of laurel.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Thayer asked calmly.</p> + +<p>"Because you are throwing away the best of yourself. Putting you into +oratorio is like icing tea. You belong in grand opera."</p> + +<p>Thayer raised his brows dissentingly.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could think so, Dane; but I am afraid I should only disappoint +you," he answered, and his tone was not altogether jovial, as he said +it.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2> + +<p>"I don't expect to be consistent," Sally retorted. "I'm only an +ill-assorted snarl of threads ravelled out from my different ancestors."</p> + +<p>"That's dodging the responsibility, Miss Van Osdel."</p> + +<p>Bobby lifted an oyster and held it up to view.</p> + +<p>"I never did approve of shunting off our sins on the shoulders of our +ancestors," he observed. "They sin; we get the come-uppance. You might +as well say that the grandfather of this oyster is directly responsible +for his being eaten alive."</p> + +<p>"No man's sin is wholly his own doing," Lorimer said half bitterly.</p> + +<p>There was a sudden pause, as they all came to a realizing sense that +Sally's idle words had sent them sliding out upon thin ice. Bobby was +the first to rally.</p> + +<p>"True for you, Lorimer!" he assented cheerily. "That is one of the +doctrines I have spent my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> life trying to impress on the governor. I +wish he felt it more borne in upon him. But, as you were saying, Sally, +you're not expecting to become consistent. I'm glad, for you won't be +disappointed. The brightest jewel in your crown will have to be of +another color."</p> + +<p>"What color is consistency, Bobby?" his cousin asked.</p> + +<p>"Green, of course, reflected from the jealous eyes of the ninety and +nine sinners who haven't the virtue."</p> + +<p>"I'm not at all certain that I wish to be consistent," Sally asserted.</p> + +<p>"So glad for your sake!" Bobby returned quickly.</p> + +<p>Thayer looked up inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Because consistent people are such bores, Miss Van Osdel?"</p> + +<p>"So you are a heretic, too? And then they are so smug."</p> + +<p>"But there's consistency and consistency," Bobby argued. "There's mashed +potato and frappé, for instance, equally hard, equally homogeneous, yet +totally different. To my mind, there is a distinct choice between them, +and I prefer—"</p> + +<p>"Cherries in your frappé." Sally capped his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> sentence for him. "In other +words, we all like a consistent person with lumps of inconsistency. +That's myself, and one of my lumps is a dislike of having Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons on our tenement committee."</p> + +<p>"But, if you are slumming—"</p> + +<p>"That is ignoble of you, Beatrix. The committee doesn't slum within its +own confines."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't mean that at all," Beatrix protested hastily. "Really, +though. I can't see why you and Mrs. Lloyd Avalons can't unite in +working for somebody quite outside either of your worlds."</p> + +<p>Sally raised her brows in saucy imitation of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's pet +expression. Then she pushed Beatrix's words aside with daintily +outstretched fingers.</p> + +<p>"Can't you?" she said coolly, as she ended her little pantomime. "Well, +I can. To adopt Bobby's choice illustration, it would be like mixing +potato and frappé. The potato would melt the frappé, and then the frappé +would—well, would render the potato unpalatable. In other words, if we +work together, I shall pulverize Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, and then the dust +of her individuality will get in among my nerves and clog them."</p> + +<p>"If you can't be consistent, Miss Van Osdel,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> please do try to be +concrete," Thayer urged. "I confess that I find it a little difficult to +follow you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Bobby interposed. "She isn't going anywhere. Sally's +mental processes always remind me of the way we used to play cars in a +row of easy chairs. We were extremely energetic, and we pretended that +we were going somewhere; but in reality we didn't budge an inch. Sally, +what is the reason you don't like Mrs. Lloyd Avalons?"</p> + +<p>"Because she is utterly preposterous," Sally replied concisely.</p> + +<p>"And yet, she is bound to arrive, some day," Lorimer said thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Then I hope it may not be until after I have left," Sally retorted. "I +don't care to have her making connections with me."</p> + +<p>"Sally, you are uncharitable," Beatrix said rebukingly; but Bobby +interrupted,—</p> + +<p>"That's more than you can say of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. She is on half the +charity committees in town."</p> + +<p>"How did she get there?" Thayer asked, with unfeigned curiosity.</p> + +<p>"By toiling upward, day and night. That's where she scores ahead of the +great men. Ac<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>cording to the poet, they only belonged to the night +shift. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons sleeps with the Blue Book under her pillow and +dreams social combinations."</p> + +<p>"She probably has a chess board always at her elbow," Sally suggested. +"I can fancy the game, the white queen and her pawn against the whole +black force, each man neatly tagged with his name and social status."</p> + +<p>"She is marching straight into the king-row, though," Bobby added.</p> + +<p>Beatrix called them to order.</p> + +<p>"Does it strike you that this is perilously near to being gossip?" she +inquired.</p> + +<p>But Sally had the last word.</p> + +<p>"It's not gossip to talk over the possibilities of the lower classes," +she remarked imperturbably. "It is social science."</p> + +<p>Lorimer went back to the original question which had started the +discussion.</p> + +<p>"As I said before, there is a certain inconsistency in the idea of a +given number of women setting themselves to work to better the condition +of the masses, and then coming to wreck and ruin because one of their +number is of a slightly different set."</p> + +<p>"Slightly inferior," Sally corrected him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lorimer accepted the amendment.</p> + +<p>"Inferior, then, if you choose. But we are talking of the theory in the +abstract, not of any particular case. One hardly expects to find +snobbishness in slumming."</p> + +<p>"Then that's where one gets left," Bobby commented, by way of +parenthesis.</p> + +<p>"But if you are all stooping?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but the alignment is better, if we all stoop at the same angle," +Sally protested.</p> + +<p>"What I wish to know," Thayer said thoughtfully; "is where the deadline +of propriety exists. Take the case of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, for instance. +Why does she take Patsey Keefe to her heart and home, and snub Arlt upon +all occasions?"</p> + +<p>"Because she wishes to maintain a proper perspective," Sally replied. +"Everyone knows that Patsey and she are chums from choice; with Mr. +Arlt, there might be a question. Legitimate slumming presupposes two +willing parties, the slummer and the slummed."</p> + +<p>"In other words," Bobby added; "it is socially possible to foregather +with the slum in the next ward; it is death to speak to the undesirable +neighbor in the back alley. The fact is ordained; but it will take +several generations of social scientists to ferret out the cause."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sally addressed the table at large.</p> + +<p>"For my part, I like Mr. Arlt," she said flatly. "What's more, I am +going with him to the Kneisel concert, to-morrow night; and, if any of +you are there and choose to eye me askance, you are welcome."</p> + +<p>Later, that evening, Thayer found himself with Beatrix and a little +apart from the others. The dinner had been utterly informal, and it had +been tacitly understood that the guests should linger afterwards. It was +only ten days since the Lorimers had landed from their European +honeymoon, and as yet they felt themselves privileged to hold themselves +a little aloof from the social treadmill. Though the breakfast table, +each morning, was littered with cards and notes of invitation, yet the +season was in their favor. Lent had entered upon its last week, and even +the largest functions clothed themselves in penitential and becoming +shades of violet. Accordingly, it had been a source of little +self-denial for Bobby and Sally to give up their other engagements for +the evening. As for Thayer, he invariably went his own way, invited +everywhere and appearing only in the places which suited his mood of the +hour. It was the one professional luxury that he allowed himself.</p> + +<p>To his keen eye, Beatrix looked as if she were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> carrying a heavy burden +of care. She was as alert as ever; her social training was bound to +ensure that. But between her conversational sallies, her face settled +into certain fixed lines that were new to Thayer. Even during the past +two months, her lips had grown firmer; but her lids drooped more often, +as if to hide some secret which otherwise might be betrayed by her eyes. +Up to this time, Thayer had never called her especially pretty. She was +handsome, perhaps; but her face was too cold, too austere. Now, however, +it seemed to him full of possibilities for beauty, softer, infinitely +more loving. In the old days, the curve of her lips had been haughty; +to-night, their firmer lines appeared to him like a mask worn to conceal +the gentler womanhood within. She was thinner, too; but browned by her +sea voyage, and she carried herself with the nameless dignity which +comes to a woman upon her bridal day.</p> + +<p>Lorimer appeared to be in the pink of condition. He was more handsome +than ever, more graciously winning. His voice had all the old caressing +intonations which Thayer recalled so well, together with many new ones +that crept into his tone whenever he addressed his wife. By look and +word and gesture, he referred and deferred to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> her constantly; and his +eyes never failed to light, when they rested upon her own. No man could +have been more frankly and openly in love with his own wife.</p> + +<p>"Then I take it for granted that the trip has been a success," Thayer +said, as he joined her.</p> + +<p>"Indeed it has. Mr. Lorimer took me to all his old haunts and, in +Berlin, to all of yours that he could find. We went to your old +lodgings, and we heard a concert in the hall where you made your début +and, the last day we were there, Sidney insisted upon hunting up your +old master."</p> + +<p>Thayer looked up suddenly.</p> + +<p>"The dear old <i>Maestro</i>! Did he remember me?" he asked, with a boyish +enthusiasm which sat well upon him.</p> + +<p>"Certainly he did, if <i>remember</i> is the right word, for his knowledge of +you was not all in the past tense. He has followed you closely, and he +knows just what you have done. Mr. Thayer," she added abruptly; "why +have you never sung in opera?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I?"</p> + +<p>"Because he said that there was your especial talent, only he called it +by a stronger name. He jeers at the work you are doing."</p> + +<p>Thayer smiled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am sorry. I thought it was good work."</p> + +<p>"So it is, as far as it goes. But the other goes farther."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he assented. "But do you think it is as—as—"</p> + +<p>"Good form?" she queried, laughing. "Yes, if you choose to have it so. +It depends something upon the individual. With your training and +traditions, you would scarcely elect to sing comic opera in English."</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid!" he said hastily. "But there are grades and grades, even +of the other. Not many mortals reach the top round of the ladder."</p> + +<p>"No; and, even if they did, they would be a good deal in your way, for +the space up there is limited. It will be merely a question of your own +will whether or not you occupy a part of it."</p> + +<p>He was surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. No woman, not +even Miss Gannion, had ever dared question to him the wisdom of his +choice, or imply to him that there were laurels which he had not yet +plucked. Strange to say, he rather enjoyed the frank fashion in which +Beatrix was taking him to task. Nevertheless, he fenced a little.</p> + +<p>"I have always preferred a moderate success to an immoderate failure," +he answered her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"That sounds specious; but you know it is a quibble. I had never +supposed that your ambition was so limited."</p> + +<p>"But it is not the mark of limitation to know where my success lies."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. For my part, though, I don't want to rest on any success. +If I succeed in one thing, that is over and done with, and I want to try +for something else."</p> + +<p>"And if you fail?"</p> + +<p>"Then, as soon as I am quite sure it is a failure and that no power of +mine can beat it into a success, I try to turn my back upon it, and face +another problem," she replied, with a quiet dignity which ignored the +flush that rose in both their faces at the careless question.</p> + +<p>Thayer, too, had seen the flush in her cheeks which had answered to his +own rising color. For an instant, he questioned whether it were an +unwitting acknowledgment that her power over Lorimer was more limited +than she had supposed. Then he dismissed the suspicion. Her poise was +too perfect to make such a supposition possible. It was only that he, +knowing the truth, sought for confirmation upon all sides.</p> + +<p>"You are a good fighter," he responded quietly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> "What would be the +concrete application of your theory to my practice?"</p> + +<p>"That you should try to fulfil the ambition your old master has for +you," she returned. "Why don't you try it? You can't gain any more glory +in your present field; you stand at the head of concert and oratorio +singers in America. You have nothing to lose; and, over there in Berlin, +there is an old man who boasts that he made your voice, and says that he +can never sing his <i>Nunc Dimittis</i> until you have entered upon your +right path."</p> + +<p>Thayer's face softened.</p> + +<p>"Did he say that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and he extorted a promise from me that I would tell you his very +words. That is the reason I have made bold to speak about the matter."</p> + +<p>"What do you think about it, yourself, Mrs. Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>"That he knows your possibilities much better than I," she answered +evasively.</p> + +<p>"But you have an opinion," he urged.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have," she replied frankly. "From what he told me, and from what +I have heard of your singing, I know that you can do broader work than +any you have attempted. Your voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> will do for either thing, opera or +oratorio; but on a few times—" she hesitated; then she went on without +flinching; "on the night of the Fresh Air Fund concert, for instance, +you showed a dramatic power that is wasted in your present work." +Suddenly she laughed at her own earnestness. "What am I, that I should +advise the star of the season? Do excuse my frankness, Mr. Thayer."</p> + +<p>"I asked you."</p> + +<p>"That's no reason I should bore you with all my theories upon a subject +of which I know practically nothing. And, meanwhile, I am forgetting to +tell you that we went to see Frau Arlt."</p> + +<p>His face showed his pleasure and his approval, his pleasure that he had +found something in Lorimer to which he could give his unreserved +approval.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you saw her. It was like Lorimer to hunt her up. Does Otto +know about it?"</p> + +<p>"He came to dinner, a day or two after we landed. Mr. Lorimer had +written him a note to tell him we were at home, and you should have seen +the boy's delight over the box of funny little odds and ends his mother +had sent him. Sidney is always so thoughtful, and he suggested to the +old lady that we had room in our trunks for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> package. I really think +that the boy was happier with his home-made gifts than I was with the +things Mr. Lorimer gave me in Paris."<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 350px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="350" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"It was so that Thayer liked best to think of her"</span> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p>"He has been a very brave, but a very homesick little German," Thayer +answered, while his eyes rested thoughtfully on her face. It brightened +now, as she spoke of Lorimer, and a half-tender, half-amused smile was +playing around her lips. All in all, Thayer was broad enough to like it +better so.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she rose, as if to end their conversation; but she turned back +again to add,—</p> + +<p>"Of all my wedding gifts, Mr. Thayer, the sweetest was the blessing of +good old Frau Arlt. She will never forget Mr. Lorimer, and her story of +his kindness in their darkest days, her good wishes to me, and her +happiness in seeing us will always stand out as an unforgettable +picture. You knew all about it, of course; but I had no idea how good to +them Sidney had been, nor how full of tact."</p> + +<p>The smile still lingered about her lips, and her cheeks were flushed a +little, as she turned away in answer to her husband's call. For long +months to come, it was so that Thayer liked best to think of her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h2> + +<p>Beatrix raised her eyes from her letters. "Mother wants us to come to +dinner, to-night, Sidney."</p> + +<p>"But you are scheduled for something else; aren't you?" he answered, +without looking up from his paper.</p> + +<p>"For nothing that I can't break. There are some teas and the theatre. I +had thought I might have to hurry our dinner, to get through in time. +What if we give up the theatre? The Andersons won't mind, if we +telephone them so early."</p> + +<p>"Just as well," he responded indifferently, as he turned his paper +inside out and ran his eye down the columns.</p> + +<p>"Then shall I telephone mother that we will be there?"</p> + +<p>"You can go, Beatrix. I sha'n't be able to be there."</p> + +<p>"Why not, Sidney?"</p> + +<p>"Because Dudley is giving a dinner at the club, to-night, and I am +booked for that."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Sidney!" She checked herself abruptly.</p> + +<p>Lowering his paper, he looked at her in surprise.</p> + +<p>"What is it, dear?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, only—I wouldn't go."</p> + +<p>"But I can't get out of it. Dudley made a point of my being there, and I +told him to count on me."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she said quietly. "I don't like Mr. Dudley."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I especially. Still, I saw a good deal of him at one time, +and, to-night, he wants to get together the old set. It's sort of a +farewell spread, for he starts for Nome, next week."</p> + +<p>"But you had promised the Andersons."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I told Anderson that I would get around in time to mingle my tears +with yours over the fifth act. Anderson is such a bore that I couldn't +stand a whole evening of him."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall certainly refuse to go," Beatrix said decidedly.</p> + +<p>Lorimer raised his brows inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"For any especial reason?"</p> + +<p>She had risen from the table, and now she stood looking down at him, a +world of disappointed love showing in her dark eyes. She forced herself +to smile a little, as her eyes met his.</p> + +<p>"I am old-fashioned, Sidney. I don't like going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> to the theatre with +other men than my husband, four months after my wedding day."</p> + +<p>He dropped his paper hastily, and, rising, linked his arm in hers.</p> + +<p>"Why, Beatrix dear, I didn't suppose—"</p> + +<p>"No," she said quietly; "but I wish you had supposed. Still, as long as +I found it out in time, there is no great harm done."</p> + +<p>"But with older people like the Andersons," he urged. "And I should have +been there to come home with you."</p> + +<p>She was silent, and he went on, after a pause,—</p> + +<p>"I didn't think of your minding, dear girl. You know that I wouldn't be +discourteous to you for anything."</p> + +<p>"Never mind about it now, Sidney. I can telephone to Mrs. Anderson, and +it will be all right," she answered more gently, for she felt the +contrition in his tone and it softened her momentary resentment at his +calm way of adjusting her convenience and happiness to his plans. +"Mother said Bobby is coming, and possibly Sally Van Osdel. She wanted +the four of us to go there for an impromptu dinner such as we used to +have."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, dear." There was a real note of regret in Lorimer's voice. +"She should have telephoned us earlier."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She waited for Bobby's decision. He is the only one of us, you know, +who makes even a pretence of being busy. Besides, as late in the season +as this, it is generally safe to count on people."</p> + +<p>"Apparently not," Lorimer returned lightly. "At least, I seem to be the +unlucky exception that proves the rule. I am sorry, for I know your +mother's dinners of old. I would break most engagements for them."</p> + +<p>"Why not this?" she urged.</p> + +<p>"Impossible. I promised, a week ago."</p> + +<p>Her face flushed.</p> + +<p>"How does it happen you haven't mentioned it?"</p> + +<p>His answering laugh was frank and free from any taint of bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Because I knew you didn't like Dudley, dear girl, and I didn't see any +use in discussing a matter on which we were bound to differ." He +evidently had had no intention of saying more; but, as he saw her +downcast face, he went on, "Truly, Beatrix, I couldn't decently refuse +the fellow, without any good reason."</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes to his face a little haughtily.</p> + +<p>"But it seems to me you had a good reason."</p> + +<p>Lorimer laughed again. It was plain that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> was determined not to be +jarred out of his genial mood.</p> + +<p>"A good reason; but not one that was very tellable. You really don't +want me saying to a man that I can't eat his dinner because my wife +dislikes him."</p> + +<p>Lorimer had no notion that his words could sting his wife, and he was +surprised at her heightened color and at the sudden aggressive poise of +her head. Then swiftly she controlled herself.</p> + +<p>"Next time, you can concoct some more specious reason," she answered, +with forced lightness.</p> + +<p>In his turn, Lorimer felt himself irritated by her calm feminine +assumption that his acceptance or refusal of invitations in future was +to be bounded by her dislikes.</p> + +<p>"Next time, we will hope you will have annulled the reason," he +retorted. "Dudley isn't a bad fellow. Moreover, he has the saving grace +of knowing how to order a good dinner and get together a good crowd."</p> + +<p>She felt the half-veiled hostility of his tone, and it cut her. She had +received similar cuts before, during the past three or four months. +Instead of rendering her callous, they had left a sore sensitiveness in +their scars. She battled against the soreness bravely. The Danes were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> a +race with level nerves, trained by generations of self-control to look +upon moods and lack of breeding as synonymous terms; and Beatrix had had +no conception of the swift alternations of feeling which marked and +marred the temperament of Lorimer. Often as they had been together +during their rather long engagement, he had been able to maintain a +moderately even mood whenever Beatrix was within reach. On one or two +occasions, he had betrayed the fact that he was gloomy and depressed; +but it was not until they came into the every-day and all-day contact +which follows upon the heels of the marriage ceremony that she had +supposed he could be either irritable or petulant. By the time they had +come home from Europe, she was quite aware of both characteristics; yet +they were alternated with hours of passionate devotion, of a tender +chivalry which took away much of their sting. Lorimer loved his wife +loyally; nevertheless, the very traits which most won the admiration of +his better hours, were the first ones to antagonize him when his moments +of irritation were upon him.</p> + +<p>If Beatrix had been of the same temper, the danger for the future would +have been infinitely less. Flash would have answered to flash; and then +the quiet current would have run on as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> the perfect contact had never +been broken. Instead of that, her quieter, better-controlled nature +received his flashes and made no outward sign of the shock. In the end, +she remained painfully sensitive to his petulance, while his real love +for her left her unbelieving, cold and apathetic. She had proof of the +one; the other was mainly negative, in so far as practical results were +concerned.</p> + +<p>"Who are to be there?" she asked, as soon as she could trust her voice +to be properly inexpressive.</p> + +<p>"Austin, and Tom Forbes, and Lloyd Avalons, and two or three men you +don't know, and Thayer."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thayer?" Her accent was incredulous.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that he ever had anything to do with Mr. Dudley, and I +really can't imagine his caring to make a table companion of Lloyd +Avalons."</p> + +<p>Lorimer's answering laugh was slightly bitter.</p> + +<p>"What a social Philistine you are, Beatrix! Thayer is not so narrow."</p> + +<p>"Does that mean I am narrow?" she asked resentfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for a woman who frowned disapproval upon Sally Van Osdel's late +utterances."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sally was talking of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons is not bad, +only foolish: Mr. Lloyd Avalons is both." She drew a long breath, as she +paused with her teeth shut upon her lower lip. Suddenly her chin began +to quiver, and two heavy tears slid down her cheeks. Then she rallied +swiftly, for she knew that all men hate domestic tears. "Sidney," she +said slowly and with an evident effort towards steadiness; "let's not +discuss this any more. I will go to mother's, and you may come for me +there, after your dinner is over. I wish you could go with me; but never +mind. Only, Sidney,—next time, please tell me a little sooner when you +make a dinner engagement, and then I shall know just how to fit my plans +into yours. And—?" She raised her eyes to meet his squarely.</p> + +<p>He understood.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear girl, I will be careful," he said, as he drew her to his +side.</p> + +<p>For a moment, she stood there, passive. Then she went away out of the +room.</p> + +<p>Thayer was the last guest to arrive, that night, and when he entered the +room, he found that both host and <i>chef</i> were anxiously awaiting his +coming. He had spent the past two hours with Arlt, listening to scraps +of the completed over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>ture, suggesting, praising, criticising it with an +acumen which surprised even the young composer, though he was fast +learning to attribute omniscience to his friend. After the shabby room +with its half-light, after the intent earnestness of Arlt, Thayer felt a +passing dislike of the gorgeousness and glare and frivolity of the +dinner. He was the last man to assert that good art can only associate +itself with homely origins, that prosperity is a deadly foe to its +growth. Nevertheless, he was fully conscious that Arlt in his meagre +surroundings was much nearer to his own ideals than were the immaculate +guests of the evening. Thayer loved luxury; but it must not be +accompanied by empty-headedness.</p> + +<p>Thayer had had a definite purpose in accepting his invitation, that +night, a purpose which was quite alien to his mental estimate of his +host. Dudley, to his mind, was in some respects a shade or two better +than Lloyd Avalons, yet many shades worse in that his caddishness came +from deliberate choice, not from lack of training. In any case, Thayer +prayed that he might be remote from either of them, at table.</p> + +<p>He quickly discovered that his prayer had been unavailing. He found +himself at the host's right hand, with Lorimer directly opposite. Lloyd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +Avalons was next to Lorimer, and, as the dinner progressed by easy +stages, Thayer became aware that his purpose in coming was about to be +put to the test. The dinner was good and abundant; the wines were better +and yet more abundant, and Lloyd Avalons, who appeared to be constructed +of some material which alcohol was powerless to attack, saw to it that +Lorimer's glass was filled as often as his own. The result was +inevitable. Before Lloyd Avalons felt the slightest exhilaration, +Lorimer's brown cheeks were stained with red, and his voice was mounting +by semitones, then by whole tones, while his accent took on a curiously +insistent note which was quite foreign to the trivial subjects of +discussion.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen that you were at Eton, Lorimer?" Dudley asked, at the +end of an unnecessarily long story.</p> + +<p>"My father took me over. He was at St. James, you know, and he thought I +would find more fellows of my own class at Eton than up here at +Andover."</p> + +<p>"That's modest of you, Lorimer," someone called, from the foot of the +table. "But please remember that I'm an Andover man."</p> + +<p>"And even then wouldn't they accept you for the ministry?" Lorimer asked +promptly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>The man laughed with perfect good-temper. Already he was two glasses +ahead of Lorimer; but no outward sign betrayed the fact.</p> + +<p>"I am willing to bet that they kept you more strict at Eton than the +Doctor kept us."</p> + +<p>Lorimer set down his glass and gave a knowing wink which, at another +time, he would have been swift to condemn in his left-hand neighbor.</p> + +<p>"They tried; but they couldn' do much about it. Besides, there was +college, you know."</p> + +<p>"We all have experienced university discipline," Dudley suggested. "It +is swift and powerful, and nobody ever knows where it will hit next."</p> + +<p>Lorimer appeared to be pondering the matter. Then he turned to Lloyd +Avalons.</p> + +<p>"D' you ever 'sperience university discipline?" he demanded, with grave +anxiety.</p> + +<p>Lloyd Avalons flushed angrily, and Thayer judged that it was time to +interpose.</p> + +<p>"University discipline is more a matter of theory than of fact," he said +lightly. "If you want real discipline, you'd better go through a course +of voice training. How much was my allowance, the last of the time in +Berlin, Lorimer? My salamanders were mere tadpoles."</p> + +<p>Lorimer caught at the familiar word.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ein! Zwei! Drei! Salamander! Salamander!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Salamander!</i>" he cried +gayly. "It makesh me homesick for the good ol' days in Berlin."</p> + +<p>"You were over, in January; weren't you?" Lloyd Avalons asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, aft' a fashion; but 't wasn' the ol' fashion. A studen' an' a +married man's two differen' things. I took Mrs. Lorimer everywhere an' +to show her grat'tude she took me in han'." And Lorimer's own laugh rang +out merrily at what seemed to him a superlatively good joke.</p> + +<p>The next moment, Thayer's level voice, low, yet so perfectly trained +that it reached the farthest corner of the room, broke in upon Lorimer's +mirth and quenched it. There was no bitterness in his voice, no +excitement; he spoke as quietly as if he had been wishing his friend +good-morning.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity she isn't here to take you in hand now, Lorimer," he said, +with a smile. "As long as she isn't, I think perhaps I'll do it, +myself."</p> + +<p>The deliberate, even tone steadied Lorimer somewhat. He pulled himself +together and stared haughtily at Thayer.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he demanded. "I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>There was a short silence while it pleased Lorimer to imagine that he +was measuring his puny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> strength against the power of the other. Then, +before Thayer's gray eyes, his own eyes drooped.</p> + +<p>"I think you do understand, Lorimer," Thayer said calmly. "If not, we +can talk it over outside. You know we are due at Mrs. Dane's at ten, and +it is almost that, now. Dudley, I am sorry that this is good-by for so +long. Don't let us break up the party." And, rising, he nodded to the +other guests and took his departure without a backward glance.</p> + +<p>He had reckoned accurately, for experience had taught him to know his +man. Lorimer sat still for a moment, then hesitated, and rose. He bade +an over-cordial good-night to Dudley and Lloyd Avalons, exchanged with +the others a jesting word or two of which the humor was obviously +forced; then he sullenly followed Thayer out of the room and out of the +club.</p> + +<p>Once safely in the street, Thayer freed his mind, forcibly and tersely +according to his wont.</p> + +<p>"It's bad enough to fall into temptation, Lorimer; but the fellow who +deliberately canters into it comes mighty near not being worth the +saving. Some day, you'll wake up to find the truth of that fact; and +then Heaven help you, for there may not be anyone else willing to take +the trouble!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h2> + +<p>Slowly and by almost imperceptible stages, spring had crept into summer +and summer had crawled sluggishly into autumn. Rose color had turned to +green, green to gold, and then all colors had faded to the uniform gray +of November. To Beatrix it seemed that nature's change typified that of +her life; to Thayer and Arlt the rose color and the gold were still +glowing. For the time being, the problems of their professional lives +were absorbing them both, to the exclusion of more human interests. Such +epochs are bound to come to every man. However broad and generous-minded +he may be, there are hours when it seems to him that the rising of the +sun and the going down of the same are functions of nature ordained +merely for the sake of giving chronological record of his own +professional advancement. November brought them both to this mood and, +while it lasted, each found the other his only satisfactory companion.</p> + +<p>To Thayer the summer had been a matter of personal mathematics, the +solving of simultaneous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> personal equations. He had refused the +Lorimers' urgent invitation to join them at Monomoy. He had felt unequal +to prolong the double strain he had endured, those last weeks in town +before society broke up for the summer. It was almost unbearable to him +to be within daily reach of Beatrix, to be forced to face her with the +unvarying conventional smile of mere social acquaintance. It was +infinitely worse to be forced to look on and watch the gradual wrecking +of her hopes, to know that she was unhappy, discouraged and full of fear +for the future, and to realize that another man was carelessly bringing +upon her all this from which he would have given his own life to shield +her. Yet bad and worse were subordinated to worst. The worst, the most +unbearable phase of the whole situation lay in the knowledge, again and +again brought to the proof, that he himself was the only living person +who had the ability to hold Lorimer even approximately steady, that in a +way the thread of his destiny was knotted together with that of Beatrix. +He loved her absolutely, and the only proof of his love for her must lie +in his strange power to make more tolerable for her the galling yoke of +her marriage to another man.</p> + +<p>Even in these few short months, it had become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> evident to the world that +the yoke was a galling one. Beatrix wore it bravely, even haughtily. +Nevertheless, it was chafing her until she was raw. Like a horse +surprised by the discovery of its own power, from occasional friskiness, +Lorimer was settling into a steadily increasing pace. During the months +of probation, he had held himself fairly steady, rather than lose the +chance of winning Beatrix for his wife. Now that she was won, he snapped +the check he had put upon himself, and yielded to the acquired momentum +gained during his self-imposed repression. By the time he came home from +Europe, Bobby and Thayer both realized that something was amiss. By the +first of June, it was an open secret that all was not well with +Lorimer's soul.</p> + +<p>Lorimer still loved Beatrix with all the fervor of his nature. To him, +she was the one and only woman in the world, someone to be caressed and +indulged and played with, the comrade of his domestic hours. But, when +the other mood was upon him, he acknowledged no right upon her part to +offer advice or warning. He treated her as one treats a spoiled child, +fondling her until her presence bored him or interfered with his other +plans, then quietly setting her aside and going his own way alone. As +far as any woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> could have held him, Beatrix could have done so; but +in Lorimer's life feminine influence was finite. When he was moved to +take the bits in his teeth, only a man, and but one man at that, was +able to check him. That man was Cotton Mather Thayer.</p> + +<p>On a few occasions, Beatrix had endeavored to hold her husband, not from +temptation itself, but from the first steps towards it. She might as +well have tried to bar the rising tide with a pint sieve. At such times, +it seemed to her that Lorimer deliberately made up his mind to have a +revel, that he set himself to work to carry out his desires to a +satisfactory conclusion. These periods came at irregular intervals; but, +all in all, the intervals were shortening and the revels were +increasing. Beatrix learned their symptoms far too quickly; she learned +to know the depression and irritability which greeted her every effort +to rouse and to please him. It was at such times that Lorimer made +bitter revolt against what he termed her narrowness and prejudice, or +burst into occasional angry petulance, if she tried to urge him to cut +loose from the club and from the constantly-growing influence of Lloyd +Avalons who was discerning enough to discover that Lorimers appetite was +a possible lever by which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> himself might pry himself up into a more +stable position in society. In this matter, however, Lloyd Avalons was +not quite so unprincipled as he seemed. To his mind, there was nothing +so very bad about a little matter of social intoxication. The evil of +drink was an affair bounded by purely geographical lines, and he +encouraged in Lorimer the very thing for which he would have been prompt +to dismiss the man who cleaned the snow off his sidewalk.</p> + +<p>Afterwards, when the depression had ended in the revel, when they both +had ended in penitence, Lorimer temporarily came back again to the old +ways. The caressing intonations returned to his voice, as he talked to +Beatrix; his eyes followed her with loving pride, as she moved about the +room; for days at a time he devoted himself to her wishes, serving her +with a tireless chivalry which made her long to forget all that had gone +before. However, Beatrix could not forget certain facts; certain +episodes were so fixed in her memory that they seemed branded upon the +very tissue of her life. In some respects, these intervening days were +the hardest ones she had to bear. Lorimer seemed totally unable to grasp +the fact that any permanent barrier was rising between them, that there +was any real reason why they should not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> meet on precisely the old +ground. To his mind, half an hour of impulsive penitence could wipe out +half a night of deliberate sin, and Beatrix dared not explain to him +that it was otherwise. Her hold over him, that hold which once she had +deemed so strong, was growing slighter with every passing month. Any +hasty or ill-considered word from her might have the effect of +destroying it altogether. For the present, the most she could do, was to +avoid antagonizing him; and even that was no easy task. She was quite +unable to decide whether it took more self-control to accept in silence +his petulance or his caresses. Meanwhile, she was thankful for the +apparently growing friendship between Thayer and her husband. During +late May and all of June, Thayer was with Lorimer almost daily, and +Lorimer came nearest to his old, winning self on the days when he had +been longest in company with Thayer.</p> + +<p>With the general scattering of people which heralds the coming of +summer, it seemed to Thayer that, for the time being, Lorimer's danger +was over, and it was with a sigh of utter relief that he saw Lorimer and +Beatrix starting for Monomoy. Strong as he was, Thayer had felt the +strain of the past six weeks; and it was good to hide himself with Arlt +in a Canadian fishing vil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>lage, dismiss his responsibilities to his +neighbor, and give himself up to absolute idleness and much good music.</p> + +<p>He had planned to spend August and September in Germany; but fate willed +otherwise. Less than a week before he was to sail, he received a laconic +epistle from Bobby Dane, dated at the hotel where he himself had spent +the previous summer.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Thayer</span>,—Wish you could come down here for August. Lorimer is +raising the deuce, and I can't do much with him. Besides, I am +ordered back, next week. I suppose the devil needs my +ministrations. I'll see to one, if you'll tackle the other.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p style="margin-left: 50%;">Yours,</p> +<p style="margin-left: 75%;"><span class="smcap">R. F. Dane.</span>"<br /></p> + +<p>Thayer hesitated for three minutes. Then he wrote two telegrams. One was +to the office of the steamship company. The other was to the hotel near +Monomoy.</p> + +<p>The reaction which followed, was a natural one. Late in September, +Thayer returned to New York, preparatory to a concert tour through New +England. Exhausted by the long strain of mastering both himself and +Lorimer, he threw himself into his work with a feverish intensity which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +astounded Arlt and roused his audiences to the highest pitch of +enthusiasm. Thayer took his new honors quietly, however. In his secret +heart, he knew that this had been the simplest way to work off his +stored-up emotions, and he reached New York, early in November, with a +greater reputation and steadier nerves than he had even dared to hope.</p> + +<p>The tour had been a prosperous one for Arlt, as well. Upon several +occasions, he had met with marked favor, and the little touch of success +had reacted upon his personality, rendering him more at ease, more +masterful with his audience. To be popular, art must be modest; but woe +betide it, if it be in the least deprecating! However, Arlt was learning +to face his public with a fairly good grace, and his public showed +itself willing to smile back at him in a thoroughly friendly fashion.</p> + +<p>Arlt's overture was to have its first hearing, the week before +Thanksgiving. The matter had been arranged through the influence of his +teacher, and Arlt had been invited to conduct the orchestra for the +event. However, in spite of his added ease, Arlt had judged such an +ordeal too great for his courage. Accordingly, the teacher and Thayer +had taken council together, with the result that Thayer was engaged as +soloist for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> evening, and that Thayer insisted upon singing one +group of songs with a piano accompaniment. To this minor detail, Arlt +had been forced to submit, although he was shrewd enough to see that it +was merely a ruse on the part of his teacher to bring him in person +before his audience.</p> + +<p>The arrangement of these details, the orchestral rehearsals of the +overture and his own rehearsals with Arlt were engrossing Thayer +completely. Heart and soul, he was working for the boy's success, for he +realized that into this simple overture Arlt had put the very best of +himself, that the young composer's happiness was bound up in the success +or failure of his maiden effort. The creative power had come upon him; +he had worked to the utmost limit with the material ready to his brain. +Now he was waiting to have the world pass judgment whether his work was +worth the doing, whether he should keep on, or turn his back upon his +chosen path. Thayer's own plans, too, were maturing. In the watching +them develop, in the helping Arlt to pass the time of waiting, he almost +succeeded in forgetting the Lorimers. Almost; but not quite. The +forgetting was a little too intentional to be entirely complete. He met +them rarely. Society had not yet organized its winter campaign, and it +was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> still possible for a man to go his own individual way. Just now, +Thayer's own individual way led him almost daily in the direction of +Washington Square.</p> + +<p>He was in Arlt's room, one evening, less than a week before the concert. +He had been dining with Miss Gannion; but he had left her early, in +order to impress upon Arlt that he must accept his bidding to the supper +which the Lorimers were to give after the concert. The invitations had +been noncommittal, and Arlt had announced his intention of declining his +own, on the plea of being too tired with his overture to care to do +anything more, that night. Miss Gannion had told Thayer what he already +half suspected, that Beatrix was really giving this supper in Arlt's +honor and that it was to be the first large affair of the season, in the +hope of focussing public attention upon the boy at the very moment of +his having proved his real genius as composer. Thayer appreciated to the +full the gracious kindliness of the plan, and he had excused himself to +Miss Gannion and hurried away in search of Arlt, devoutly praying, as he +went, that the note of regret might not be already on its way.</p> + +<p>He was but just in time. The sealed note lay on the table, and Arlt was +shrugging himself into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> his overcoat, when Thayer entered the room. Ten +minutes later, they were still arguing the matter, when they heard an +unfamiliar step coming up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arlt?" A strange voice followed the knock.</p> + +<p>Arlt opened the door hospitably. The dim light in the hallway showed him +a figure known to every opera singer in America and half of Europe.</p> + +<p>"Will you come in?" he asked, in some surprise.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Thayer here?"</p> + +<p>"I am." Thayer stepped into the lighted doorway. "You wished me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. What is more, I need you. We know each other well by sight, so I +suppose there is no call for us to waste time on introductions. Mr. +Thayer, Principali, one of my best baritones, is ill and is forced to +cancel his engagements. Will you take his place?"</p> + +<p>Thayer meditated swiftly, during a moment of silence.</p> + +<p>"What are the operas?"</p> + +<p>"Wagner, <i>Faust</i> of course, and—oh, the usual run of extras."</p> + +<p>"What reason have you to think that I am fitted for your vacancy?" +Thayer asked directly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<p>The impresario smiled.</p> + +<p>"Your old master in Berlin is one of my most intimate friends. He gave +you a letter of introduction to me, I think?" The accent was +interrogative, although it was plain that only one answer was expected.</p> + +<p>"He did," Thayer assented quietly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I have been waiting for more than a year in the hope that you +would present it. Since you will not come to me, I am at last driven to +go in search of you."</p> + +<p>Thayer bowed gravely in recognition of the implied compliment. He +realized that he was suddenly facing a question which might affect his +whole after life, and he was too much in earnest to waste words on mere +conventional phrases. He liked the old man, and he felt a swift, burning +longing to accept his offer. It had come unsought, unexpected. Was not +fate in it; and was not a man always justified in following out his +fate? To accept it would be in a great measure to cut himself off from +his present social life. An operatic engagement would engross him +completely. All in all, it might be better so. And yet, there was +something to be said upon the other side. Was he justified in working +out his own professional salvation at the certain cost of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> the damnation +of another soul? That was what it amounted to in the long run. If he +went into opera, he must separate himself from all connection with +Sidney Lorimer. He could not take the time to visit Lorimer's world; it +would be sure and swift destruction to Lorimer, if he were to set foot +within the new world which Thayer was preparing to enter. Thayer +realized that the horns of his dilemma were long and curving. The offer +tempted him sorely; yet, for some unaccountable reason, he shrank from +turning his back upon Lorimer. And, besides, if Beatrix—</p> + +<p>"How long would you need me?"</p> + +<p>"The entire season."</p> + +<p>"How soon?"</p> + +<p>"In <i>Faust</i>, on the tenth of next month."</p> + +<p>"In <i>Faust</i>?"</p> + +<p>The impresario saw that Thayer was hesitating. The idea of Faust plainly +attracted him, and the impresario hastily followed up the advantage.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we want you for <i>Valentine</i>."</p> + +<p>"My favorite part," Thayer said, half to himself.</p> + +<p>The impresario smiled serenely. He felt no question now as to the +outcome of his errand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Calvé will sing <i>Marguerite</i>; it will be a good cast. After that, we +shall need you, two or three times a week, and the salary—"</p> + +<p>Impatiently Thayer brushed his words aside.</p> + +<p>"How soon must you have my answer?"</p> + +<p>"To-night."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Then, no."</p> + +<p>The impresario straightened up in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thayer!" he remonstrated.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible for me to bind myself for an entire season, without +more time to think the matter over," Thayer said quietly.</p> + +<p>"But it is important that I should know, in order to make my other +arrangements."</p> + +<p>"Then you would better consider it settled in the negative," Thayer +returned.</p> + +<p>The impresario wavered.</p> + +<p>"How much time do you need?" he asked a little impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I must have a week."</p> + +<p>"Impossible."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then. But I thank you for the honor you have done me in +asking me to fill the place."</p> + +<p>Thayer rose with an air of decision, and the impresario could do nothing +else than follow his example. At the door, he turned back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Thayer, there is no use in my trying to conceal the fact that I +want you badly. If I will wait until a week from to-night, will you give +me your answer then?"</p> + +<p>"I will," Thayer replied imperturbably.</p> + +<p>"And sign the contracts on the spot?"</p> + +<p>"I will," Thayer repeated; "but remember this: in the meantime, I am +binding myself to nothing. Good-night."</p> + +<p>He went down the stairs with the impresario. When he returned to Arlt's +room, a moment later, he took up the conversation at the precise point +where they had dropped it; but, even in the dusky room, Arlt could see +that Thayer's eyes were blazing as he had never seen them till then. Not +long afterwards, Thayer glanced down at his own strong, slim hand that +rested on the table beside him. The fingers were moving restlessly and, +on the back, the cords twitched a little now and then. Thayer watched it +curiously for a moment. Then he clasped his hands on his knee and held +them there, motionless.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h2> + +<p>Above the murmur of talk of his guests, Lorimer's voice rose, high and +clear, merry as the voice of a happy child.</p> + +<p>"It's a great night for you, Arlt, the night of your life. Ladies and +ge'men, le's drink to Mr. Arlt."</p> + +<p>"You've done it once, Lorimer," Thayer interposed. "Arlt will be getting +more than is good for him."</p> + +<p>"And so will you," he might have added; but there seemed to him a +certain impossibility in imposing a check upon a man in his own house +and in the presence of his own guests.</p> + +<p>Lorimer laughed out blithely.</p> + +<p>"Ne' mind. Arlt can stand it; his head is level. B'sides, las' time, I +drank to Arlt the composer. This time, it's to Arlt the accompanist. He +hasn' any business to play a double rôle, if he can' stan' the double +applause. To the success of Mr. Otto Arlt!"</p> + +<p>Thayer raised his glass and set it down again, untasted. As he glanced +across at Arlt with an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> explanatory smile, he caught the eyes of Beatrix +fixed upon him imploringly. It was evident that she was putting her hope +in him to end the scene; but for the once Thayer was ready to confess +himself beaten. The house and the champagne both were Lorimer's. Under +these conditions, he was powerless to act. Moreover, he felt a sudden +impatience with Beatrix for allowing the champagne in her own home, when +she had learned from months of bitter experience that a single glass +could render Lorimer totally untrustworthy. If this were the measure of +her influence for good, she might as well have married Lorimer in the +first place, without insisting upon those long months of probation. As +he had watched the progress of that merry supper in Arlt's honor, Thayer +had been distressed about Lorimer and about the scene which must +inevitably follow; but his distress had been as nothing in comparison +with his disappointment in Beatrix.</p> + +<p>In reality, Beatrix had had no responsibility in the matter.</p> + +<p>"I don't see any need of our having champagne, Sidney," she had said, on +the morning that they had first discussed the detail of the supper.</p> + +<p>Lorimer had been in one of his old-time moods. Now he laughed a little.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What a Puritan you are, Beatrix!" he said, as he bent caressingly over +her shoulder to read the completed list of guests.</p> + +<p>"Not a Puritan," she urged; "but I would rather not have the champagne, +Sidney. It isn't at all necessary; we can get on perfectly well without +it."</p> + +<p>"And a good deal better with it," he retorted, laughing. "Well, never +mind it now, dear girl. But what about a florist?"</p> + +<p>And Beatrix, delighted at her easy victory, had allowed herself to be +led off into a consideration of the decorations for the table. She could +not be expected to foresee that, in giving the final orders for the +supper, Lorimer would include a generous allowance of champagne. Neither +could she have foreseen that one of the invitations would find its way +into the hands of Lloyd Avalons. Confronted suddenly by both the +champagne and Lloyd Avalons, Beatrix had faltered only for a moment. +Then she had rallied to meet the inevitable crisis so swiftly that no +one but Bobby Dane at her elbow had been aware of her momentary +weakness. Thayer had been at the other end of the room, and had missed +the instant of hesitation. By the time he had discovered the situation, +Beatrix had forced herself to meet it as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> matter of course. She +faltered a second time, however, as she met the questioning glance which +Thayer gave her. She had learned to care for his good opinion; she knew +that now she was in danger of forfeiting it. Nevertheless, her loyalty +to her husband was paramount. Never by a spoken word had she implied to +Thayer that Lorimer was falling below her ideals. To-night, hurt as she +was by his deception, anxious as she was in regard to the outcome of the +episode, nevertheless she remained true to her usual careful reticence. +To a woman of Beatrix Lorimer's temper it was easier to bear unjust +blame than to demand just pity. And yet, as she recognized that the +facts were apparently all against her, she could not help hoping that +Thayer would suspend judgment until he had talked with Bobby Dane. Bobby +had seen the memoranda for the supper, and had advised her in regard to +some of the details. Not only was he the one person besides herself and +Lorimer who knew the whole truth; but he could invariably be relied upon +to tell the truth in its entirety.</p> + +<p>As Lorimer had said, it was a great night for Arlt. His work had scored +a complete success, and he had been called twice before the audience to +receive in person his applause. Something in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> the simple overture had +caught the fancy of the orchestra, and they had played it with an +enthusiasm, had interpreted it with a dainty accuracy to Arlt's own mood +which would have won prompt recognition for a work of far less merit. +The critics were warm in their praises; but the audience, upon whom a +popular success depends far more than upon the professional leaders of +opinion, was in a mood to be expressed by no such temperate phrase. As +he lingered in the Lorimers' box, watching the young German come forward +to the footlights, Thayer was ready to predict a fair measure of lasting +popularity to his friend. The audience was most hospitable to him. It +now remained for the Lorimers' supper to set upon him the seal of social +approval. For Arlt's sake, Thayer devoutly hoped that the supper would +be a success. Under other conditions, he might have had his doubts. This +was the first time he had seen Lorimer for weeks; but the stories which +had drifted to his ears had not been reassuring. In Lorimer's own house, +however, there could be no danger. He felt that he could count upon +Beatrix to forestall that.</p> + +<p>In the weeks since they had met, it seemed to him that Beatrix must have +grown more beautiful with each passing day. Beneath the perfect poise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +of her manner, he could see an increasing gentleness, a sadness which +was under absolute control. She was as strong as ever, but less +self-reliant. Experience had taught her that she was powerless to fight +alone. In her worst battles, she had learned that she must rely upon +another; and Thayer, as he watched her, rejoiced that that other was +himself. His weeks of separation from her, of enforced forgetfulness, +had taught him a lesson which he had been loath to learn. Rather than be +outside her world, rather than be upon the same footing as all the other +inhabitants of that world, he would gladly endure a strain like that of +the past summer, would accept the place where fate had put him, as the +one man who could make more tolerable her own life with her husband. It +was not a dignified position; yet, for her sake, he believed that he +could fill it in a way which would add dignity to the lives of them +both. At least, he would do the best that was in him. He took no account +of the possibility that, within an hour, he would be balked in his +efforts by certain uninfringible laws of hospitality.</p> + +<p>"Moreover," Lorimer went on, still in that unwonted high, clear voice; +"le's drink to Arlt's mother an' sister, Frau Arlt an' Frăulein Katarina +Arlt."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>The sudden angry color blazed up in Arlt's cheeks, and he straightened +in his chair. Then he caught Thayer's eye, and with an effort he +controlled himself. The instant's by-play had caused Thayer to lose the +next words of his host; but Lorimer's laugh was ringing out with such +infectious mirth that the guests were laughing with him, although with +obvious reluctance to show their merriment.</p> + +<p>Lorimer babbled on discursively.</p> + +<p>"I knew 'em well. They were having har' times to get on, an' Arlt here +could n' begin to carry the load. It was killing him, an' so Thayer an' +I—"</p> + +<p>"Let the rest go, Lorimer," Thayer broke in hastily, for now two +appealing faces were looking to him for help. "We know all about it."</p> + +<p>Lorimer turned to him with an air of grave rebuke.</p> + +<p>"You know, Thayer, for you were there. But the res' do' know. How could +they? They were n' there." He paused long enough to empty the glass +before him. Then he braced one hand against the edge of the table and +raised the other, as if to add emphasis to his words. "I was there, an' +you were there, an' Arlt was there. Nobody else was there. If they had +been, they'd know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> 'bout it, to-night. Plucky fellow, Arlt, an' he +d'serves his success. If 't had n' been for you an' me, Thayer, Arlt +would have gone under, though. No wond' Frau Arlt calls me <i>Lieb Sohn</i>. +If it had n' been for me, she would n' have had any <i>sohn</i> 't all. With +me, there's pair of us."</p> + +<p>He delivered himself of this long speech with an air of portentous +gravity. Then he turned away from Thayer and smiled benignly up the +table. Side by side at the farther end, Arlt and Beatrix seemed +powerless to take their eyes from his face. Lorimer caught the eye of +Beatrix and instantly his face lighted, as he kissed his hand to her.</p> + +<p>"Supper's a gran' success, dear girl," he called gayly. "Ought to be, +cost 'nough, an' has been no end trouble; but it pays. People will know +wha' we think of Arlt now. He's geniush, 'n no mishtake; are n' you, +Arlt?"</p> + +<p>"Bobby," Sally whispered; "I must go away, I can't bear this for another +minute."</p> + +<p>Bobby nodded comprehendingly.</p> + +<p>"Slip out, the next time he begins on Thayer. I think you can do it, and +you oughtn't to stay. I wish the others would go, too."</p> + +<p>"They may follow me. I would break it up, if I dared; but—Bobby, I'm +afraid."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So am I," Bobby growled through his shut teeth. "Come back in the +morning, Sally. Beatrix may need you. I'd go with you now; but I dare +not leave things."</p> + +<p>But Lorimer's eye was upon them.</p> + +<p>"Wha' now, Sally?" he asked jovially. "Bobby been making a bad pun, that +you look so savage?"</p> + +<p>Sally hesitated. For one instant, she eyed her host as if he had been a +scorpion that had crawled across her path. Then she controlled herself, +and her voice took on its customary mocking drawl.</p> + +<p>"No; I only feel savage because I know you must have set the clocks +ahead. Just see! It is high time we all were going home, and you know I +always hate to start."</p> + +<p>Lorimer glanced at the clock on the mantel. Then he turned to the man +behind his chair.</p> + +<p>"Stop tha' clock!" he commanded. "We can' have anybody talk 'bout going +home yet. Night's only jus' begun, an' there's quarts more champagne. +Beatrix did n' wan' us to have any; but I don' believe in being stingy."</p> + +<p>Sally had already risen, and one or two other women, casting furtive, +apologetic glances towards Beatrix, were hurriedly following Sally's +example. In the slight confusion, it seemed to Thayer that his chance +had come, and he took it. Unfortu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>nately, however, for the once he had +reckoned without his man. He had kept careful count of the glasses which +Lorimer had emptied since he had sat down at the table, and he knew that +the danger limit was not far distant. In fact, the danger limit was +already passed. Thayer had had no means of taking into account the +glasses which Lorimer had slyly emptied, during his short absence from +the room before they had gone to the table. The mischief was already +done. The slightest shock which could disturb Lorimer's present mood +would be sufficient to destroy his whole mental balance past any +possibility of restoration. Thayer's error in judgment promptly +furnished the shock.</p> + +<p>Lorimer had turned again to the butler at the back of his chair.</p> + +<p>"Fill thish up," he demanded, as he pointed to his glass.</p> + +<p>With a swift gesture, Thayer caught the man's attention, and shook his +head. The man hesitated, halting between two masters. The one paid him +his wages; the other commanded his entire respect, and it was not easy +for him to choose the one whom he should obey.</p> + +<p>"Fill thish up, I shay!" Lorimer's voice was thicker, his accent +imperious.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>Swiftly the old butler glanced at Thayer as if for instructions, and +Thayer again shook his head. This time, Lorimer saw the signal. The next +instant, his empty glass was flying straight in the direction of +Thayer's face.</p> + +<p>There was a frightened outcry from the women; but Thayer swerved +slightly to one side, and the glass crashed harmlessly against the +mantel. There followed the tinkle of the falling pieces, then a +stillness so profound that from one end to the other of the long room +Lorimer's heavy breathing was distinctly audible. The impending crisis +seemed to paralyze the guests. Those who had risen, stood motionless in +their places; the others made no effort to rise. They remained there +together, silent, passive, tense, with Lorimer facing them all, like a +savage beast at bay.</p> + +<p>The interval, seemingly so endless, lasted only for a moment. Then, with +a beast-like snarl, Lorimer sprang up, overturning his chair, and hurled +himself straight upon Thayer. Strong as he was, Thayer tottered before +the blow, for the strength of Lorimer just then was far beyond the +human. Drink-crazed and brutalized, he had the fierce power of a +maddened brute. There was a swift, sharp struggle, broken by strange, +inarticulate cries, making the women hide their faces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> and cram their +fingers into their ears to shut out sight and sound. Then the struggle +grew still again, and they heard Thayer's steady voice saying,—</p> + +<p>"I think he is quiet now. Dane, will you help me to carry him to his +room?"<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 348px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="348" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Beatrix still sat at the disordered table"</span> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p>One by one, the terrified guests slank away. There were no good-nights +scarcely a whispered word in the dressing-rooms upstairs. At length, +they were all gone, and the house was still. The lights from the open +windows glared out across the night, and the rooms inside were heavy +with the fragrance of roses and the smell of champagne. Upstairs in +Lorimer's room, Thayer and Bobby Dane were watching the lethargic sleep +which had fallen upon their host, and counting the moments until Arlt +could bring the doctor back with him. Downstairs, alone in the abandoned +dining-room, Beatrix still sat at the disordered table, with her head +bowed forward upon her clasped hands.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h2> + +<p>"It's a devilish mess, do what you will," Bobby said grimly, the next +morning.</p> + +<p>"The punishment seems a good deal out of proportion to the cause," +Thayer replied briefly.</p> + +<p>"Hh!" Bobby grunted. "I think he did well to get off without a genuine +case of D. T."</p> + +<p>"I was speaking of your cousin, not of Lorimer."</p> + +<p>Bobby stared at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Really, Thayer, I can't see any cause that was of Beatrix's making," he +returned haughtily.</p> + +<p>"It was mistaken judgment, to say the least, to have champagne in the +house," Thayer answered.</p> + +<p>"Beatrix had nothing to do with that," Bobby blazed forth angrily. "It +was that brute of a Lorimer, and he deserves all he got, and more, too. +I saw the order to the caterer, made out in Beatrix's handwriting, and +there wasn't a pint of champagne on it. Lorimer sent in the order +afterwards, just as he invited that serpent of a Lloyd Avalons. Beatrix +couldn't help herself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She could have countermanded the order."</p> + +<p>"She didn't know it till the guests were there. I was with her when she +discovered it, and she took it like a heroine. She was perfectly +helpless. She couldn't make a scene in her own house, and she couldn't +reasonably be expected to send her guests home. She knew exactly what +was bound to happen, what she couldn't help happening, and she kept her +head steady and faced the thing as boldly as she could. I never thought +you would be the one to go back on her, Thayer."</p> + +<p>Thayer started to speak. Then he squared his jaw, and was silent. After +a long interval, he said humbly,—</p> + +<p>"I have wronged your cousin, Dane. I am very sorry."</p> + +<p>"So am I," Bobby returned flatly. "Beatrix has come to where she needs +every friend she owns in the world to stand by her. By to-night, the +story of that supper will have spread from the Battery to Poughkeepsie +bridge. It will be garbled and twisted into all manner of shapes, and it +will come boomeranging back at her from every quarter of the town. When +it comes to gossip, we find Manhattan Island is a mighty small place; +but I suppose Australia is just as bad."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thayer interrupted his meditations ruthlessly.</p> + +<p>"How is Lorimer, this morning? You've been to the house, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've just come from there. Lorimer is convalescent, which means he +is a blamed sight better than he deserves to be. I didn't care to see +him; but they assured me he was sitting up and regaling himself on raw +oysters and chicken broth. He is probably an edifying spectacle by this +time, a mush of maudlin penitence. I've seen him before this in his +next-morning mood. Put not your trust in a moral jellyfish!" And Bobby, +his fists in his pockets, stamped up and down the room to ease his +resentment. "The next move is to be a radical one," he continued, after +a pause. "They are going into the Adirondacks."</p> + +<p>Thayer looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>"They? Who?"</p> + +<p>"Beatrix and Lorimer."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"Safety; taking to the woods, and all that."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Dane?" Thayer asked sternly. "This is no time for +joking. Do speak out."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Thayer. The fact is, I am utterly reckless, this +morning, and I don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> know nor care what I am saying. If you loved +Beatrix as I do—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Thayer returned quietly. "I understand."</p> + +<p>"No; you don't. You can't. We've been such chums. What hurts her, hurts +me; and, to my dying day, I shall never forget her as we found her in +the dining-room, last night. She knew then it was all over." Bobby's +voice broke upon the last words; then he pulled himself up sharply. +"This morning, we had a council of war, Mrs. Dane and Beatrix and the +doctor and I. The doctor says that Beatrix isn't well, and that another +such scene would kill her, or worse. I was for shutting Lorimer up in an +inebriate asylum; but Beatrix opposed the idea. She was so excited about +it that the doctor finally took sides with her, and said that she and +Lorimer would better not be separated, at least, not until something +else comes up. Do you grasp the pleasant state of things? Lorimer is to +be left with her till something does come up; when the something does +come, it may kill her. That's what they call an alternative, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"But the Adirondacks?" Thayer reminded him. It was unlike Bobby Dane to +go off like this into conversational blind alleys. Thayer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> as he +listened and looked at his friend's haggard face, realized suddenly that +Bobby was far less superficial than was generally supposed.</p> + +<p>"The doctor ordered them both out of town. It is the only way to keep +Lorimer out of mischief, get him into the wilderness to live on venison +and bromides. We chose the Adirondacks because it was near and safe, and +because we could tell people that Beatrix needed the air. Of course, +they'll know we are lying; but we may as well lie valiantly and +plausibly, while we are about it."</p> + +<p>"When do they go?"</p> + +<p>"Monday."</p> + +<p>"Who goes?"</p> + +<p>"They hire a cottage, and take enough servants to run it. Then there +will be a man for Lorimer. The doctor insisted upon that."</p> + +<p>"Who else?"</p> + +<p>"Beatrix and Lorimer."</p> + +<p>"And Mrs. Dane?"</p> + +<p>"No; no one else."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean that Mrs. Lorimer is going up into that wilderness +alone?"</p> + +<p>"Alone with her liege lord," Bobby said bitterly.</p> + +<p>"But she mustn't. It's not safe."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who can go? Mrs. Dane is not strong; she would only be an extra care +for Beatrix."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dane, then."</p> + +<p>"He's no use. I would go, myself; but I can't well get off. Besides, +Lorimer hates me, and my being there would only make it harder for +Beatrix. Do you really think she ought to have someone?" Bobby's voice +was anxious.</p> + +<p>"For nine days, no; for the tenth, yes," Thayer said decidedly. "We both +know that, some time or other, Lorimer is bound to go on another spree. +No; there's no use in being too hard on him. The time has passed, if it +ever existed, when he was as responsible as you would be, or I. It's in +his blood, and he has lost all his nerve to fight it out. But, when that +spree comes, if it comes while they are up there, Mrs. Lorimer must have +someone to stand back of her. Who is there?"</p> + +<p>Bobby shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he confessed. "I would go, if I could; but I can't."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence between the two men. Thayer, sitting at his +desk, was absently measuring his blotting pad with a letter, so many +envelopes' length this way, so many that. The letter was from the +impresario, reminding him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> that his decision was due, that night, and +urging him to accept the offer. At length, Thayer turned around away +from the desk, and faced Bobby.</p> + +<p>"Is there a hotel near there?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Half a mile away."</p> + +<p>"Open at this season?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there are always cranks and consumptives, you know."</p> + +<p>Thayer faced back again and measured the blotter anew. Then he tossed +the letter aside and, rising, walked across to the mantel.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll go up there for a little while," he said briefly.</p> + +<p>"Thayer! You can't."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because you mustn't. It's impossible."</p> + +<p>Thayer mistook his meaning.</p> + +<p>"I can't see the impossibility, Dane. Lorimer was—is my friend. I knew +him long before I ever heard of Mrs. Lorimer. I was their guest at +Monomoy for a month, last summer, too. We both of us know that I can +hold Lorimer, when nobody else can. I don't pretend to understand it, +myself; but the fact remains. All in all, I think I am the best possible +person to go."</p> + +<p>His voice was quiet, yet its every accent was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> final and uncompromising. +Before its dignity, Bobby felt like a rebuked child. He hastened to +justify himself.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking of that at all, Thayer. The idea would have been an +insult both to you and to Beatrix. I know that Beatrix feels she can +rely on you to manage Lorimer; but nevertheless it is absolutely out of +the question for you to go."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Your engagements for the winter."</p> + +<p>"I have made no engagements yet."</p> + +<p>"Is that a fact?"</p> + +<p>"As a general rule, I tell the truth," Thayer answered dryly.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are sure to make some."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. When I do, it will be time enough for me to keep them."</p> + +<p>"But your reputation!" Bobby urged.</p> + +<p>"What of it?"</p> + +<p>"How is it going to stand your burying yourself in the wilderness, just +when you have the city at your feet?"</p> + +<p>"It will have to stand it. It will, if it is worth anything at all."</p> + +<p>"Thayer, you sha'n't!" Bobby protested. "It's Quixotic and idiotic. You +sha'n't spoil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> your own good life for the sake of Lorimer's bad one. He +isn't worth it."</p> + +<p>Thayer straightened his shoulders and threw back his head.</p> + +<p>"What about Mrs. Lorimer?" he asked steadily.</p> + +<p>The clock marked the passing seconds until hundreds of them had gone +away, never to return. Then Bobby crossed the room and laid his hand on +Thayer's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Thayer," he said slowly; "you are a fool, an utterly asinine fool; but +I can't help wishing that there were a few more fools in the world just +like you."</p> + +<p>And in that instant, it flashed into Bobby Dane's mind that, ever since +he had first come to know Cotton Mather Thayer, he had been expecting +and awaiting just such a scene.</p> + +<p>Late that same afternoon, Miss Gannion's card was brought to Beatrix. +All that day, she had denied herself to callers; not even Sally Van +Osdel had been admitted. Ten minutes before Miss Gannion came, Beatrix +would have said that she too must be sent away; but, as she read the +name on the card, she felt a sudden impulsive longing to see her +old-time friend.</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion wasted no words on conventional greeting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You dear child!" she said quietly. "I know a little about what has +happened; but it is all I need to know. Talk about it or not, just as +you choose."</p> + +<p>Urged or repressed, Beatrix would have held herself steady, reticent. +All day long, she had kept herself quiet, going through her usual +domestic routine, answering notes of invitation and then methodically +sorting out the clothing she would need during her absence from town. +She had refused her mother's help and she had sent away her maid; it was +a relief to her to keep busy. Left to herself and idle, the future +easily could have occupied her whole attention; but as yet she was not +strong enough to face it. Strange to say, there had been no benumbing +effect of her sorrow. From the first hour, she had been able to grasp +with dreary clearness all its details, all its effect upon the present +and upon the future which now to her was freighted with a double burden +of anxiety and alarm.</p> + +<p>All day long until late afternoon, she had forced this quiet upon +herself; but it could not go on indefinitely. Already the tug and wrench +upon her nerves was slackening, and Miss Gannion's words brought the +swift revulsion. The older woman shrank before the storm of passionate +sorrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> Then she braced herself to bear it, for she realized that it +was the flood which must inevitably follow the breaking down of the +dykes that for months had pent in the seas of a daily and hourly agony +such as a weaker soul than that of Beatrix could never know.</p> + +<p>It was long before Beatrix dared trust her voice to speak, and then Miss +Gannion was startled at the utter dreariness of her tone.</p> + +<p>"It has all been a horrible mistake," she said slowly. "I thought I was +stronger. I did believe that I could hold him, Miss Gannion. I didn't +rush into it carelessly, as most girls do. I knew all the danger. I +thought about it, and measured it against my strength and against the +strength of his love. I truly thought I could hold him."</p> + +<p>"I know, dear," Miss Gannion said gently. "I thought so, too."</p> + +<p>"But I couldn't. I did try, try my best. But it was no use. And yet, he +did love me, just as I did love him."</p> + +<p>"Did love?" Miss Gannion questioned, for Beatrix had paused, as if +challenging her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, did love. My love is dead, Miss Gannion."</p> + +<p>"But it may come back."</p> + +<p>"Never. It never can. He has killed it utterly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> I am sorry. I don't +know why I am telling you, for no one else must know it, not even Sidney +himself. He doesn't suspect it at all now, and I mean that he never +shall. If I made the mistake in the first place, I ought to be the one +to suffer for it, not he."</p> + +<p>"But he loves you now," Miss Gannion said unsteadily.</p> + +<p>"To-day. Yesterday, he forgot me entirely; to-day, he cares for me just +as he always has done, no more, no less. I wish I could care for him; +but I can't. I feel perfectly cold, as if nothing more could ever warm +me."</p> + +<p>"But, in time—after you have forgotten last night—"</p> + +<p>Beatrix shook her head.</p> + +<p>"My love for Sidney did not die, last night. It was too strong, too much +alive, to be killed by the facts of one single night. No; it had been +ailing for months; but it finally died, six weeks ago, and nothing now +can ever make it live again. Miss Gannion, I have been very selfish."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so, Beatrix."</p> + +<p>But Beatrix gently drew herself out of Miss Gannion's arms, rose and +stood looking down at her friend. In that moment, confronted by +Beatrix's sad, calm face and luminous eyes, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> little gray-haired +woman suddenly realized that, notwithstanding the difference in their +years, Beatrix was looking into mysteries which were far beyond her ken.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was selfish," Beatrix went on steadily. "I loved Sidney; I was +happy in his love, and I believed that, through both our loves, I could +be strong enough to save him from himself. I knew it was a risk, a +terrible risk, but I took it for granted that the risk would come only +on myself, and, for both our sakes, I was willing to assume it. I was +nothing but a child, for all I felt so wise, and I stopped there, +without looking ahead. I was wrong, woefully, sinfully wrong. I was +selfish, for I thought of nothing beyond myself. Now that it is too +late, I am beginning to realize what it all may mean to the next +generation."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINETEEN" id="CHAPTER_NINETEEN"></a>CHAPTER NINETEEN</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>O the long and dreary Winter!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>O the cold and cruel Winter!</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Thayer's voice was wonderfully rich and mellow, as he stood at the +window softly singing over to himself that haunting, tragic Famine Theme +from <i>The Death of Minnehaha</i>. Fresh from its weeks of resting, low, yet +suggesting an immeasurable reserve power, it had all its old throbbing +magnetism; but a new quality had been added to it. It had always had +moments of passionate appeal; now it had gained a sadness, a depth of +melancholy which in the past it had been powerless to express. A year +before, Thayer could strike the tragic note, never the pathetic.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the pathos was apparently merely a matter of the vocal +cords. The tall, alert, well-groomed man who stood at the snow-veiled +window in no way suggested being a candidate for sympathy. His eyes were +clear, his brows unfurrowed. Moreover, one could never dream<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> of +condoling with the owner of such a voice. Taken quite by itself, its +possession would outweigh an almost infinite number of human woes.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Ever thicker, thicker, thicker</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Froze the ice on lake and river,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Ever deeper, deeper, deeper</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Fell the snow</i>—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Hiawatha's</i> wigwam might well have been just beyond the spruce thicket, +Thayer reflected. The description was too accurate to be artistic; it +amounted to mere photography. As far as his own eyes could see, the +earth lay buried in a deep, soft blanket of snow, and the air above was +misty with flakes which neither fell nor scurried before the wind, but +hung apparently motionless in the still, cold air. All through the +preceding night, however, the wind had blown fiercely. The snow lay +heaped in heavy, irregular drifts across the open plain; but under the +trees it was rolled up into soft waves whose tops curled over as +daintily as the waves had curled over on the moonlit beach of Monomoy. +The lake was frozen over and snow-covered; but the creek that came +rushing down to meet it was too swift to be overtaken by the frost, and +it showed, an inky-dark, sinuous line of open water, winding away and +away among the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> trees, now losing itself in a thicket of alders, now +drawing a straight black mark across an open stretch of meadow where the +frost-flowers on its banks offered a delicate substitute for their +summer kin.</p> + +<p>Half a mile away to the south, the mountain rose abruptly, its face of +sheer rock making a dark scar on the winter landscape, a scar crossed +with long white bands and bars of ice which, glacier-wise, were creeping +over the edge of the cliff as if seeking to veil its sinister face. +Against the base of the mountain, close to the inky creek, another patch +of darkness stood out in bold relief. This patch was the Lorimers' +cottage.</p> + +<p>In spite of the haunting melancholy of his song, Thayer looked out at +the cottage and at the storm with a feeling of supreme content. Lorimer +hated storms with a catlike fervor; it was an old-time peculiarity of +his, dating from their student days in Göttingen. There was no +likelihood of his leaving the cottage, that day; and, inside the cottage +with his man to look out for him, Thayer felt that he was beyond the +possibility of danger. It was seven weeks since they had buried +themselves in that wilderness, seven weeks that Thayer had voluntarily +kept himself under the daily and hourly strain of constant intimate +association with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> woman he loved, of knowing that she gained +strength and courage from her reliance upon him, and of forcing himself +to treat her with an offhand good-fellowship which defied analysis for +the mere reason that it challenged none.</p> + +<p>A weaker man than Thayer would have yielded to the strain, or else have +grown fretful under its chafing. Thayer did neither. He felt the +chafing, galling burden which he bore; but he kept the scars out of +sight of others, and moreover, he conscientiously refrained from looking +at them, himself. Self-pity is the surest, yet the most insidious foe to +self-poise. When the original Cotton Mather Thayer had stuck a splinter +of wood into the palm of his hand, he had pulled out the splinter with +his teeth and then, punching his hand into his pocket, he had continued +his discussion of the latest election to the General Court. His namesake +was proving himself true to the traditions of his blood.</p> + +<p>Twice only had Thayer sought outlet for his mood. Twice the almost +deserted hotel had vibrated with such singing as it was destined never +to have heard, before or since. The piano was passable and, shut up +alone in the barren parlor, Thayer had sung to the empty chairs as he +had never yet sung to any crowded audience. Out in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> the halls, the +people of the house gathered in listening, whispering groups; but Thayer +never heeded them. It is not certain that, heeding, he would have cared. +Relief he must have at any cost, and this was the one means at his +command. His own voice, laden with passionate sadness, came echoing back +to him from the unresponsive walls, and in time the echo checked his +outcry. It taught him anew the lesson which already he had conned again +and again, the lesson that his bitterest plaint fell on no one else's +ears with half the compelling fervor with which it reached his own, that +his cry for help came beaten back to the one person who could help him, +that was—himself. But at least, there was some relief in having made +his cry.</p> + +<p>He had never allowed himself to regret his answer to the impresario. Day +by day, he realized more and more keenly that his presence there was +imperative. Beatrix seemed to him far from well. Her nerves had been +less steady since the shock of that last supper in New York; she was +totally unable to adjust herself to Lorimer's swift alternations of +mood, his hours of demonstrative affection, his times of black +depression and irritability. Thayer saw that she did her best, that she +bravely sought to play a loyal part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> in the work of reformation. The +failure was in no sense that of will, but of mere nervous strength. But +there were hours and hours when Thayer stood between them, trying by his +sympathy for Lorimer to atone for Beatrix's coldness, trying by his +chivalry to Beatrix to make amends for the fractiousness of Lorimer.</p> + +<p>There were hours when he mourned acutely for his work. They invariably +followed upon the heels of a letter from Arlt and they invariably ended +in his going to the cottage and dragging Lorimer out for a tramp in the +stinging air. The doctor had ordered much exercise, and Lorimer, who +refused to go beyond his door in the society of his man, made long +expeditions at Thayer's side, returning weary of body, but of placid +mood and healthy appetite, to spend a short evening and a long and +restful night.</p> + +<p>The day before, they had been out since early morning. The deep-packed +snow had lain, hard and solid and tempting, and the sun glittered coldly +back into the windless air. Lorimer had been in high spirits. One of his +old gay, infectious moods was upon him, and, for the passing hour, +Thayer let himself yield to it until he forgot Beatrix, forgot the +tragedy which overhung them all, forgot even the number of miles they +had come. At noon,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> they had found a wood-choppers' camp and, sitting +around the blazing fire, they had mingled their daintily-packed lunch +with the cruder fare of their temporary hosts. Lorimer had been the life +of the party, and the good-bys had been spoken with real regret. At the +top of the hill above the camp, Lorimer had turned back again to wave +his cap in boyish farewell. Then the episode had ended, ended more +completely than Thayer as yet could realize.</p> + +<p>Lorimer's mood changed on the way home. He grumbled about the softening +snow, about the gathering dusk, about the length of the road. His +exasperation reached its height when, ignoring Thayer's advice in regard +to the path, he struck out across an open snowfield, only to go crashing +down through its insecure foundation of baby spruces whose lusty little +branches bore up the snow like myriad arms. When Lorimer emerged from +the shallow caverns beneath, his temper was of the blackest, and, all +the rest of the way home, he had stalked along in gloomy silence, ten +feet in the rear of his companion's heels.</p> + +<p>Thayer had judged that it would he well to invite himself to stay to +dinner at the cottage. Lorimer had been in one of his worst moods, and +even Thayer had found it wellnigh impossible to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> keep the talk brisk and +amicable. He had remained until he had seen that Lorimer was at last +yielding to the inevitable drowsiness of his long day in the open air; +then he had started back to the hotel. Once outside the cottage, +however, he had squared his shoulders and drawn a deep breath of relief. +He needed mental ozone; but even physical ozone was better than mental +nitrous oxide.</p> + +<p>And now he was standing at the snow-veiled window, looking across at the +cottage while he hummed to himself the recurring, haunting Famine +Theme,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>O the famine and the fever!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>O the wasting of the famine!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>O the blasting of the fever!</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He had no notion of the truth of his words. Had he done so, the cottage, +not the hotel, would have held him, that day, and the tragedy, so long +averted, might have been warded off a little longer. But fate willed +otherwise. To Thayer's mind, Lorimer, storm-bound and weary from his +tramp of the day before, would spend the day, drowsing, novel in hand, +before the open fire. Thayer, in his own absolute integrity, could never +imagine the truth: that Lorimer's trusty attend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>ant had at last yielded +to the temptation of the oft-repeated bribe and had given into Lorimer's +hands the bottle from which he was used to measure out, medicine-wise, +the daily lessening allowance of brandy. He could not know how often, +all that day, Beatrix went to the window and looked out across the storm +in the hope of seeing him come striding to her through the snow. Had it +been possible, she would have sent for him; but it was a day when women +are safest inside a house, and she dared not remove either Lorimer's man +or the old butler from their close guard over her husband. She had been +utterly opposed to bringing the faithful old butler with them; but now +she was glad that she had yielded to his begging. He had been with her +father since her childhood, and had insisted upon following "Miss +Beatrix" into her new home. Without him now, she would have been +absolutely, hopelessly alone.</p> + +<p>Thayer spent a quiet, contented day. For the time being, he had +dismissed Lorimer from his mind, and he gave himself up to the luxury of +taking thought for no one but himself. The sensation was very luxurious +from its very novelty. He wrote a long letter to Arlt, responded to a +dozen notes of invitation which had pursued him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> from the city, loitered +about the office and ended the day with a novel which had reached him +when the mail came in, that noon. It was still early when he went to +bed. As he drew the shades, from sheer force of habit he glanced across +at the cottage. Its lights were burning brightly, their quiet steadiness +giving no hint of the hideous carnival within.</p> + +<p>No healthy man can go to bed, two hours before his usual time, and +expect to sleep peacefully till dawn. At four o'clock, Thayer waked +suddenly, with the firm belief that his slumber must have reached quite +around the clock. He struck a match and looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>Restlessly he rose and began to walk up and down the room. The storm had +increased during the night. He could hear the snow sifting against the +windows and, far off at a distant corner of the house, a loosened blind +was beating to and fro in the wind. The sound echoed drearily through +the almost deserted barracks, and added infinitely to the loneliness of +the wilderness, and of the night, and of the storm.</p> + +<p>Thayer paused at the window, raised the shade and peered out into the +night. At first, he could see only the darkness, no longer black, but +gray with the swirling snow. The ceaseless, pitiless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> fall of the flakes +fascinated him, and he stood long, watching them take shape in the +distance, come whirling against the glass and slide aimlessly down the +pane, as so many had fallen before them. Then, as the storm lost +something of its fury, he glanced up and out across the night. The next +instant, his face was pressed against the pane, while his clasped +fingers shielded his eyes from the light within the room. In the +Lorimers' cottage, half a mile away, the lights were still burning. On +such a night and at such an hour, those lights meant trouble: illness, +or perhaps something infinitely worse.</p> + +<p>He had stood at the window longer than he had realized, and the clock in +the office struck five as Thayer, fully dressed, stepped out into the +hall. With the waning of the night, the storm was increasing again and, +strong man as he was, Thayer faltered as he opened the door and went out +into the darkness.</p> + +<p>Four times he tried to beat his way against the wind, to force a path +through the wet, heavy drifts. Four times, buffeted and almost spent, he +was driven back to the shelter of the veranda. The office clock struck +six, as he went inside the house to find a shivering servant sweeping +out the office.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get me some snowshoes," he ordered briefly. "The lights have burned all +night in Mr. Lorimer's cottage; I am afraid they may be ill and in need +of help. I thought I could get to them; but in this storm it is +impossible, unless I can have some shoes."</p> + +<p>By some trick of the brain, anxious and impatient as he was, the Famine +Theme recurred to his mind, and the servant, coming back with the shoes, +found him singing it softly to himself. The words died away into +inarticulate humming, as Thayer bent over to fasten the straps. Then, +buttoning his coat closely and pulling his cap down over his eyes, +Thayer opened the door for the second time and went striding away across +the gray, tempestuous darkness which had shut down again impenetrably +between himself and those steady, ominous lights.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY</h2> + +<p>"It has all been a hideous mistake!"</p> + +<p>Abruptly, defiantly Beatrix threw out the words at Thayer, as he +entered. Then her head dropped on her arms which rested on the table +before her.</p> + +<p>Breathless from his struggle with the storm and astounded at her +greeting, Thayer halted just across the threshold and looked at her in +silence. The silence grew irksome to her. She changed the form of her +words.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it. I have tried." The defiance in her voice suddenly +gave place to desperation. She pushed back her chair, rose and crossed +the room to the fire. There she turned and stood facing Thayer, her head +erect, her cheeks scarlet, her hands, palms downward, tightly clasped. +"I have tried my best and failed. It is a total, absolute failure," she +went on fiercely. "I know it, and you know it, too. You have watched it +coming on, growing and overpowering me. We may as well admit it; I made +a mistake when I married Sidney Lorimer."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thayer met her eyes steadily, rallying all his forces to face her in +this new mood. This sudden change in her baffled his powers of +comprehension. Weakened and torn and shaken by her endless hours alone +in the whistling, roaring storm, listening moment by moment to the +hideous noises of delirium coming from the next room, the level nerves +of Beatrix had at last given way completely. The noises had stopped now, +and an ominous stillness lay over the room; but in Beatrix's ears they +still were ringing, beating a terrible accompaniment to the crowding +measures of her thoughts. Hour after hour as she had sat alone, her +fingers in her ears, her eyes fixed on the snow-draped landscape outside +the window, her mind had worked ceaselessly, arbitrarily. For the time +being, she had felt herself unable to control the direction of her +thoughts, and the direction had been fraught with danger.</p> + +<p>She went back to her first meeting with Lorimer. She went over each +detail of their friendship and of their married life. She tried in vain +to connect the genial, fascinating man she had first known with the man +whose ravings found their way under her fingers pressed against her +ears. She recalled his old-time devotion and chivalry; she contrasted it +with his moodiness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> and the brutal petulance which of late had marked +his manner to her. At no one point had there been a sudden change in +him. The transition had been slow, insidious. At last she had wakened to +it in all its bald reality.</p> + +<p>Now and then she rose and went to the window in the hope of seeing +Thayer's familiar figure coming towards her through the storm. Each time +she did so, her thoughts lingered a little upon him, upon his power to +hold Lorimer, upon his constant thoughtfulness for her. Each time she +thought of him, her mind rested there longer, until she found herself +going over their acquaintance much as, a few hours earlier, she had gone +over her life with Lorimer. Then, all at once, she dropped her head on +the table with a little moan. Her will was powerless longer to blind her +to the truth. Her loyalty to Lorimer, her traditions, her training had +made her fight for months, a fight no less bitter because it was +subconscious. Now her fighting strength was gone. The truth had asserted +itself at the instant when her nervous force was at its weakest. It had +asserted itself, and it had mastered her.</p> + +<p>She was still in the passive stage of defeat, when Thayer entered the +room, hours later. Struggling to her through the storm, he had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +urged on by a fierce passion of anxiety for the woman he loved. A +strange fire had flashed up within him, and, had he found Beatrix in her +usual mood, he might have lost his power to quench it. Met by a passion +equal to his own, he instinctively pulled himself together. Two such +storms must inevitably have landed them upon hidden rocks and wrecked +them pitilessly and in mid-career. He realized the danger. It took all +his manhood to face it; but two lives were trembling in the balance, +with nothing but his own past character and half of his inherited +tendencies to act as a fulcrum.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I don't quite understand you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then what are you doing here?" she returned sharply.</p> + +<p>Thayer faltered. Then,—</p> + +<p>"I thought perhaps you might be in need of help," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Her lip curled, and her slender wrists grew tense with the strain upon +them.</p> + +<p>"For what? John and Patrick can take care of my husband. Mr. Lorimer +is—very ill; but we are quite capable of taking care of him. Why should +I need help?" She watched him in silent hostility. Then, as she saw the +sudden drawing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> of his lips, her mood changed. This was her friend, the +only friend who was near her and loyal to her. She must not hurt him +with her bitterness, lest he too should fail her, just as Lorimer +already had done. For months, she had unconsciously depended upon his +loyalty. Now she sought it consciously. "What is the use of keeping up +the pretence any longer?" she went on drearily. "You have been with us +day after day; you know how things are going; you know how my husband +has—that he has not always been himself." Even in her desperation, she +still chose her words guardedly. "Do you think I ever could have held +him?"</p> + +<p>Slowly Thayer shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said in a low voice. "No; you never could have held him. It was +impossible."</p> + +<p>"Then why didn't you warn me?" she burst out hotly.</p> + +<p>He looked her straight in the eye.</p> + +<p>"How could I?"</p> + +<p>Her face flushed with the sudden understanding. Then the old dreary note +came back into her voice.</p> + +<p>"And you have known from the first that it was all a mistake?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you have let me suffer for it?"</p> + +<p>"You are not the only one," he said, almost involuntarily.</p> + +<p>Their eyes met, held each other, then dropped apart. Thayer drew a long, +slow breath.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lorimer—Beatrix—"</p> + +<p>She checked him with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"Wait! You don't know it all, you can't know. You never knew Sidney +Lorimer as I did, for my Sidney Lorimer never really existed. I +idealized him, half-deified him. The Sidney Lorimer to whom I gave my +love, my very life, was one man; the Sidney Lorimer I married was quite +another. A woman can't love two men totally unlike each other, and yet I +am bound to him, bound down to the day of my death, or of his. We both +come of a long-lived race, and this must go on for years. I have tried +to prevent it, this gradual change in him; but it was impossible. Then I +tried not to see it; but I had to see it. It insisted on itself and on +being seen. I have been watching it, dreading the time when I must admit +it in so many words. I have tried to be loyal to him, God knows!" She +spoke rapidly. Then she checked herself, and the dreary note came again. +"But what is done, is done. I loved one man; I am married to another. +Nothing now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> can bring back to me the man I used to know, the man I used +to imagine him. Then what will the future amount to? We shall go on +together to the end, two prisoners bound by a chain which only holds us +the tighter and galls us the more, the looser it grows between us. One +doesn't mind the dying; it's the limitless, unchanging years ahead, the +black, blank years that frighten me. How can I escape them?"</p> + +<p>In presence of a woman's passionate pain, every man must stand back, +baffled and powerless to help. Thayer had supposed he understood Beatrix +Lorimer as no other man had ever understood her. To his eyes, her +character seemed crystal clear; yet now, in her supreme crisis, the +crystal grew cloudy before his eyes. For long hours, she had gone into +the deep places of her life, had stirred up from its very source the +spring of her being, and the superficial clearness had grown turgid with +the dregs that had lain undisturbed and unsuspected there. Hatred and +black despair were boiling in the heart which Thayer had thought so calm +and cool, so peaceful in its dainty whiteness. Before it, he stood +silent. Was this the true Beatrix Lorimer? The woman he had fancied her +was a spotless white lily. The heart of this one was banded with bars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +of flame and gold. The other grew colorless and cold by comparison, and +his hands twitched to pluck this fiery, vivid thing before him and carry +it away out of reach of Lorimer's sodden, defiling touch. What had +Sidney Lorimer, drunkard, profligate that he was, to do with this +high-bred, high-spirited, heart-broken woman? Why not rather he, Cotton +Mather Thayer—He thrust his hands into his pockets and lowered his eyes +to hide the light burning in them.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him hours since he had entered the house. In reality, the +time was short. As he had crossed the threshold, Beatrix had raised her +head and looked at him dully. Then her reaction had come. Like the ebb +and flow of the waves, excitement had followed apathy; and, as she had +met his eyes, the wave had risen again and swept her away upon its +tossing crest. Thayer was here at last. He never forgot her, never +forsook her. He had come to her in this moment of her bitterest need, +even as he had come to her many a time in the past. With him, there +could be no need for explanation or preface. Straight from the heart of +her reverie, Beatrix Lorimer had cast her words at him,—</p> + +<p>"It has all been a hideous mistake!"</p> + +<p>And now she was following them up with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> question which, in Thayer's +ears, sounded the dominant note of the temptation that had been pursuing +him during all those months of rigid self-restraint,—</p> + +<p>"The black, blank years, how can I escape them?"</p> + +<p>For the second time in his life, Thayer grew dizzy with the tingle of +his nerves answering to the shock to his brain. The blood was pounding +across his temples, and his ears rang loudly. Then he lifted his eyes +deliberately and looked Beatrix full in the face. For an instant, he +held her eyes; then she drew away from him. This was not the quiet, +self-contained man upon whom she had leaned for months. This man's eyes +were glowing, his lips quivering, his hands outstretched to meet her +own. No need to tell her what flame had kindled him into such fierce and +burning life. Their eyes met. She drew away; but her glance never +wavered. Without a spoken word, they had come to the pitiless, naked +truth. Wish had answered to wish, and henceforth there could be no +concealments between them. She took a step forward, and for a moment her +fingers rested in the hot hollow of his hand.</p> + +<p>It was only for a moment. However, for Thayer that moment had sufficed +to review a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> lifetime, to dwell in detail, even, upon the events of the +last fourteen months. In the past, he had done his best to bear himself +as an honest man and a gentleman; and, seen in the light of that past, +the future turned to ashes before him. At best, it was void of honor; at +worst, it was unthinkable. It had not been easy for him to swim against +the tide, to strive, at the expense of his own plans, to rescue Lorimer +from drunkenness and shame. At least, now that for so long a time he had +succeeded in keeping his head above water, he would not wilfully cast +himself upon the first jagged rock in his course. He would not save +Lorimer's honor for the sake of Lorimer's wife, and then deliberately +seek to bring dishonor and shame upon the wife herself. He veiled his +eyes and let his palm drop out from under the pressure of the cold +little fingers.</p> + +<p>"It's not necessarily a question of years," he said, after a silence in +which it seemed to him that she must be able to count his heart-throbs. +"Dane told me what the doctor said. He hopes this place will work a +complete cure, and it may not be long before your husband pulls himself +together again."</p> + +<p>He had turned a little away from her; but he knew she was still looking +at him. He could feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> the pathetic appeal in her eyes, yet he never +wavered. However brutal he might seem to her now, he knew that the hour +would come when she would be grateful to him.</p> + +<p>With an effort, she steadied herself.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it is impossible. He has gone too far; the pull now is all +downward."</p> + +<p>"What about your hold on him?" Thayer asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Beatrix started, as if he had laid a clumsy thumb on an exposed nerve.</p> + +<p>"My hold!" she said, with a sudden fierceness. "Do you think that there +is no limit to the help which I must give him?" Then her voice dropped. +"No; I have let go. It is no use. I have done all I can, and now I can +only wait till the play is over and the curtain drops. Perhaps it may +not be so very long, after all. It spoils any tragedy, if the last acts +drag."</p> + +<p>He had been fired by her passion; but he had resisted it. Now her +despair unmanned him. It was only the old, old situation: the guiltless +one must suffer for the guilty. The fact in general terms he accepted as +a necessary evil; the particular instance was unbearable. Once more, and +for the last time, the balance wavered; then slowly, steadily it dipped +into position. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> tragedy would be no less a tragedy, because a new +hero took the stage for the final acts. He tried to find words to say; +but they refused to come at his bidding. He could only stand mute and +look down at her, as she sat in her old place by the table, with her +head buried in her arms.</p> + +<p>The seconds passed and lengthened into minutes. Little by little, the +cold, gray light of the snowy morning was creeping into the room, +dimming the lamplight to pale yellow streaks and filling the place with +a chill, forbidding gloom. The stillness was so absolute that Thayer +could hear his watch ticking in his pocket, could hear the beating of +his own heart. Neither one of them moved, or spoke. In the next room, +there was a faint sound; but they never heeded it. Beatrix's face was +hidden in her arms; Thayer's eyes, turned now to the window, were fixed +upon the pitiless storm outside, while mechanically he sought to adjust +the regular ticking of his watch to the broken rhythm of the Famine +Theme which once more was haunting his brain.</p> + +<p>Neither one of them faced the open door; neither one of them saw the +crawling, slinking figure, the pale, fear-stricken face, and the staring +eyes which appeared in the doorway, clung there for a moment and then +vanished again as noise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>lessly as they had come. Neither of them, had +they seen, could have imagined the fearful interpretation which the +delirium-stricken brain had put upon the silent scene.</p> + +<p>The stir in the next room came again. Then it increased until the +cottage echoed with the tumult of struggle and of inarticulate crying. +Above it all, Lorimer's maddened voice rang out in piteous terror,—</p> + +<p>"Let me go! I saw him! It's Thayer, and he will kill Beatrix! She is +afraid of him, and she is begging for mercy! He is killing my wife, my +Beatrix! Let me go! Beatrix! Beatrix! Dear girl, I'm coming!"</p> + +<p>Beatrix sprang to her feet, as Thayer rushed to the inner room where the +words had ended in a fury of inarticulate shrieks. There was the sound +of a heavy struggle, when it seemed to her that the cottage rocked with +the rocking, writhing bodies of the men just beyond her sight. She dared +not face the scene in all its horror. She stood, erect and alone, in the +middle of the floor, while the struggle slowly died away and the shrieks +sank to the piteous low whimpering of an animal in pain. Then all was +still.</p> + +<p>Weak by inheritance, weaker still by dissipation, Lorimer's heart had +yielded to the shock of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> his imaginary fear; but the last coherent +thought of his distracted brain had been that of protecting love for +Beatrix.</p> + +<p>In the gray, cold light, through the silent cottage, the old butler came +to Beatrix's side and gently touched her arm.</p> + +<p>"It is over, Miss Beatrix," he said gravely; "and may the good God be +pitiful to us all!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</h2> + +<p>It was mid-afternoon when Thayer once more entered the hotel. The +proprietor met him at the door.</p> + +<p>"This message was just telephoned in, Mr. Thayer. The boy is getting +ready to carry it to the cottage."</p> + +<p>Thayer tore open the envelope indifferently. Exhausted by the struggle +and the shock through which he had been passing, for the time being he +felt little interest in any word which could come to him from the +outside world. His entire life seemed to him limited to one short hour +in one small room, apart from the world and its concerns. That brief +episode was too recent and too personal to allow him at once to cast off +its impression. In his present mood, it appeared to be the focal point +of his entire life, the arena upon which the two warring strains in his +blood had met to fight to a finish. The fight had been sharp and fierce; +already he was beginning to rejoice that the Puritan had conquered the +Slav.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> Beyond that point, as yet, he was powerless to go. Later, his +rejoicing would be increased by the knowledge that in his own words and +deeds he had never swerved from a certain loyalty towards Lorimer.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lorimer is—" the proprietor was beginning vaguely.</p> + +<p>Thayer's nod was more curt than he realized.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lorimer is dead."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean it! When?" The man was visibly startled.</p> + +<p>"This morning, between seven and eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>"It must have been very sudden?" The accent was plainly interrogative.</p> + +<p>"Yes, at the last. He had been quite ill for twenty-four hours. He was +overtired with his walk of the day before, and then ate something that +disagreed with him. He suffered terribly, and, at the last, heart +failure developed." Thayer ended his fable with a deep breath of relief.</p> + +<p>"But they had no doctor," the man objected.</p> + +<p>Thayer raised his eyes and looked at him steadily for an instant.</p> + +<p>"No," he said quietly. "Mr. Lorimer has had a number of such attacks, +and Mrs. Lorimer had all the proper remedies. Until within a few +mo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>ments of the end, there was no indication that this attack was any +more serious than the others had been, and there had never before been +any tendency to heart failure." He paused for a moment, deliberately +challenging another question. Then he added, "If your telephone is not +in use, I must send word to Mrs. Lorimer's friends." And he walked away +to the telephone closet in the corner of the office.</p> + +<p>He called up three numbers in New York. The first one was Mr. Dane's +office, and to him Thayer announced the bare fact of Lorimer's death and +of Beatrix's need for her parents. His talk with Bobby Dane was longer, +and at intervals it became interjectional in its terseness. To Bobby, +Thayer went over the story in all its detail, yet in such guarded +phrases that no one else, listening, could have gained an inkling of the +true cause of Lorimer's death. After the first shock was over, Thayer +and Beatrix had discussed the matter fully and in all its bearings. The +attendant had his own reasons for wishing to keep the secret, and the +butler could be relied upon implicitly. Accordingly, they had decided +that there was no need of acquainting the world with the true version of +the case, and they had agreed that Bobby should be the one person to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> be +put in possession of all the facts. He was just; he had no sentimental +ideals to be dispelled in regard to Lorimer, and he was utterly +trustworthy.</p> + +<p>Thayer's third message was the shortest of all.</p> + +<p>"Not in? Very well. I am Mr. Thayer. Tell him that I will be in his +office at ten o'clock on Saturday morning."</p> + +<p>It was then late on Thursday afternoon. Thayer had calculated that the +Danes would come in, the next day, and that the sleigh which brought +them in would also carry him out in season for the night train to New +York. There was another illness in the opera company. <i>Faust</i> was to be +sung on the following Wednesday night, and Thayer, in sending that last +message, had given his tacit consent to singing the part of <i>Valentine</i>. +Even in the midst of his trouble, he smiled grimly to himself, as he +thought back to that far-off night in Berlin when the chord which closes +<i>Valentine's</i> cavatina also closed his long indecision and left him +sitting with his face definitely turned towards the artist's life. It +had seemed to him then that the decision was threatening to undermine +his Puritanism; nevertheless, he had temporized with that Puritanism. In +resolving to become an artist, in so far as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> possibility of art lay +in his keeping, he had likewise resolved to hold himself a man, virile +and of steady nerve. To his young enthusiasm, the two ideals had not +seemed incompatible. To his maturer judgment, they had appeared in no +sense to be at war, yet together they had been by no means easy of +attainment. All in all, he had preferred to leave to the recording angel +the balancing of his psychological accounts. He had lacked the time and +the perspective to do it for himself. But, meanwhile, he believed he +recognized the hand of fate in this second summons to sing the part of +<i>Valentine</i>. Fate and his old <i>maestro</i> both had declared themselves for +opera. Their united will should be done.</p> + +<p>That evening was the longest he had ever spent, so long that in reality +it lasted until the gray dawn. The eastern sky was tinging itself with +yellow when he roused himself from the reverie which had held him since +he had left the dinner table. Rising to his feet, he drew himself to the +full of his towering height and took a slow, full breath. Then +deliberately he pushed his trunk into the middle of the floor and began +packing it, with the quiet method which characterized all his personal +arrangements. At first, he worked in grim silence; then, by almost +im<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>perceptible degrees, his face lighted and he fell to humming over to +himself the familiar song,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Even bravest heart may swell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In the moment of farewell—"</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Little by little, the humming rose and filled the room, at first the one +phrase repeated over and over again; then all at once, deep and +resonant, Thayer's full voice came leaping out in the rich Italian +words,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Lŕ sul campo nel dě della pugna,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Ah! si, Fra le file primiero saro."</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The past was already the past. "Blithe as a knight in his bridal array," +Thayer was echoing the call of his future destiny. Because he had won a +single battle, there was no reason he should lay down his arms.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Careless what fate may befall me,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>When Glory shall call me."</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He sang it boldly, joyously. He was not forgetful, only hopeful. He +would leave to the choice of fate the field in which his mastery should +lie. Master he would be at any cost.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Careless what fate may befall me,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>When Glory shall call me."</i><br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>For the last time, that little room was echoing with his voice.</p> + +<p>His own rooms in New York were echoing with the same song, when Bobby +Dane entered them, the next Saturday night.</p> + +<p>"Well, at least, you don't sound broken-hearted," he observed, as he +took off his coat.</p> + +<p>"The sight of you would go far to cure me, if I were," Thayer retorted. +His words were light; but his face and his grip on Bobby's two hands +contradicted his tone.</p> + +<p>"Glad of it," Bobby said flatly. "But tell me about Beatrix. How did the +poor girl stand it?"</p> + +<p>"Like herself," Thayer answered. "It was enough to shake the nerves of +the Winged Victory; but Mrs. Lorimer went through it like a heroine."</p> + +<p>"It was D.T.?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It was better that you kept the secret," Bobby said thoughtfully, as he +dropped into a chair by the piano. He sat silent for a moment while, +bending forward, he idly picked out the first few notes of the cavatina +on the lowest octave of the bass. Then he added, "I don't see how you +managed it, Thayer; but it is a good deed done. Was there any trouble +about the certificate?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. It was heart failure, true enough, and there was no need to go into +secondary causes."</p> + +<p>"I am glad the doctor was a man of sense. If he had been a martinet, it +would have been worse for us all. Of course, there is no telling how far +people will accept the story; but we may as well try to act as if it +were true." There was a pause. Then Bobby inquired, "Well, and now what +are you going to do next?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Valentine</i> in <i>Faust</i>," Thayer replied briefly.</p> + +<p>"The deuce you are! When?"</p> + +<p>"Next Wednesday."</p> + +<p>Bobby's face fell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wanted you, myself, for that day. Isn't it rather sudden?"</p> + +<p>"So sudden that I didn't half realize it, till I found myself at +rehearsal, this morning. It is to be announced in to-morrow's papers, I +suppose. Not even Arlt knows it yet."</p> + +<p>Bobby meditated for the space of several seconds.</p> + +<p>"Thayer, I am delighted," he said then. "I was so afraid your stopping +now might mean a permanent break-up in your work. Now you are going into +your right field at last. You've been too large for oratorio; you fill +altogether too much space, and crowd out the chorus. You need<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> a whole +stage to ramp around in. Moreover, if I have any idea what Gounod meant, +he had your voice in mind, when he created the part. Go in, and you are +sure to win; and not a soul in the city will be gladder of it than I."</p> + +<p>Thayers face softened. His life, successful as it was, had been +singularly barren of endearments, and Bobby's words touched him keenly. +Heretofore, only Arlt had manifested any personal interest in his +successes, and Arlt was a true German, chary of his words. Thayer held +out his hand to Bobby.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Dane. I believe you," he said.</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. Then Thayer added suddenly,—</p> + +<p>"What did you want of me for Wednesday?"</p> + +<p>Again Bobby's face clouded, and he laughed uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Something you can't and must not do, Thayer. I oughtn't to have spoken +of it."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" Then a new idea crossed Thayer's mind. "Something about +Lorimer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I may as well tell you. We have been telephoning back and forth, +all day. They'll be down, Monday night, and the funeral is to be on +Wednesday afternoon. Beatrix is leaving all the plans to my uncle; and +my aunt, who is a senti<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>mental soul and has no idea of the real state of +the case, is insisting that the poor old chap shall be buried with all +manner of social honors. It is to be a real function, and she thought it +would be the most suitable thing in the world, if you were to sing at +the funeral. I knew you wouldn't enjoy doing it, all things considered; +but I couldn't say so to my uncle. All in all, it is a relief to have +this other affair knock it in the head."</p> + +<p>To Bobby, the pause was scarcely perceptible. To Thayer, it sufficed to +review the years between his meeting Lorimer in Göttingen and that last +gray dawn in the cottage.</p> + +<p>"But it doesn't," Thayer said then.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean—?"</p> + +<p>"I will sing. We rehearse in the morning, and I have nothing afterwards +until evening. What time is the service?"</p> + +<p>Bobby Dane's call left Thayer feeling once more at war with himself. +Worn out with the long strain of watching over Lorimer, exhausted with +the agony of that hour in the cottage, it had been a relief to him, now +that his work was ended, to throw himself wholly into the preparations +for <i>Faust</i>. The needed rehearsals and the inevitable details of +costuming had been sufficient to occupy his tired mind completely, and +he had held firmly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> to his resolve to forget the past two months. He had +been able to accomplish this only by getting a strong grip upon his own +mind and holding on tightly and steadily; but he had accomplished it. +Bobby left him with it all to do over again. In spite of himself, +Beatrix's desperate question for "the black, blank years," drowned the +familiar words of his cavatina and set themselves in their place,—</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>"Even black, blank years shall pass."</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Impatiently he shut the piano and, sitting down at his desk, began +studying aloud the list of stage directions which outlined his acting; +but, in the intervals of turning a page, he asked himself over and over +again whether any other life could hold a grimmer contrast than the one +confronting him, that coming Wednesday afternoon and evening.</p> + +<p>Wednesday came at last. Thayer had left his card at the Lorimers' house, +the day before; but he had felt no surprise that Beatrix had refused to +see him. He caught no glimpse of her until the hour for the funeral, and +he felt that it was better so. For the present, their lives must lie in +different paths.</p> + +<p>As Bobby had predicted, Sidney Lorimer's funeral was a function. +Everything about it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> above criticism, with the minor exception of +the manner in which Lorimer had met his end. Society, black-clothed and +sombre-faced, was present, partly from respect to the Danes, partly from +a real liking for Lorimer as they had known him at first, partly from +curiosity to see whether there were any foundation for the rumors which +already were flying abroad. The rumors embraced everything from +meningitis to suicide, everything except the truth. And meanwhile, the +Lorimers' rooms were transformed into a species of flower show, and, in +the midst of the flowers, Lorimer lay asleep, his cheek resting on his +hand, his lips curving into the old winning smile they knew so well. For +him, as for Thayer, the past was passed and done. For him, too, the +future might still be full of promise. Thayer, as he stood beside the +man who had been his old-time friend, admitted as much to himself, and +all at once the intoning of the solemn ritual ceased to jar upon his +ears. For Lorimer, as for himself, the fight was still on. The arena had +changed; that was all. Perhaps in the new battle, Lorimer would arm +himself with stronger weapons.</p> + +<p>Then the intoning stopped, and some one made a signal to Thayer. Simply +as a boy, and with a boyish tenderness, he sang the little hymn they +had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> chosen for him. Each man and woman who listened, felt gentler and +nobler for his song; but only Beatrix, shut decorously in the room +upstairs, away from her dead, realized that, for the passing hour, +Thayer had annulled the passion and the pain of those last weeks, and +had gone back again to the old, pitiful, protecting love which for years +had marked his attitude towards Lorimer.</p> + +<p>From Lorimer's funeral, society went home to rest and gossip and +exchange its sombre clothing for its most brilliant plumage. Nearly two +years before, society had taken Cotton Mather Thayer to its bosom. Now +it was making ready to burn much incense in his honor, and its first +step in the process was to make his opening night of opera one of the +most brilliant events of the winter. With this laudable end in view, the +house was packed, and the women present had drawn heavily upon their +reserve fund of brand-new gowns which they had been hoarding for the +final gayeties of the season.</p> + +<p>Thayer, with Arlt at his side, lingered idly in the wings, while the +audience listened with ill-concealed impatience to the melodious +bargaining between <i>Faust</i> and <i>Mephistopheles</i>. Then the attention +quickened, as every bar of the Kermess<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> chorus brought them nearer to +the moment for <i>Valentine's</i> coming.</p> + +<p>Charm in hand, he came at last, and the applause, caught up to the +galleries and tossed back to the floor, echoed again and again through +the great opera house. He accepted it quietly, almost indifferently, and +stood waiting for the storm to die away, while his keen eyes, sweeping +the house, recognized here and there among the jewelled, bare-shouldered +women before him the faces of the black-gowned mourners to whom he had +sung in the afternoon. The sight brought Beatrix to his mind. He +wondered how she was passing the evening, whether, from under the +benumbing effects of the blow she had suffered, she were still sending a +thought, a hope for success in his direction. Unconsciously to himself, +his pulses were tingling and throbbing with the music, and the throb and +tingle brought back to him the memory of the pounding of his pulses, +that morning in the cottage, only a week before. He had almost yielded +to their sway; then he had rallied. He had gone through the shock of +Lorimer's death, through the hasty discussion of arrangements which had +followed, through the saying good-by, with a calmness that had steadied +Beatrix and had been a surprise, even to himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> It was more—He +roused himself abruptly to the consciousness that mechanically he had +been going through the scene with <i>Wagner</i>, and that the moment for his +cavatina had come.</p> + +<p>Instinctively he squared his shoulders and raised his eyes. As he did +so, he caught sight of Bobby Dane, and the sight recalled to him the +half-dismissed thought of Beatrix. During the one measure of +introduction, Beatrix and <i>Marguerite</i>, the cottage and the Kermess went +whirling together through Thayer's brain, turning and twisting, +intermingling and separating again like the visions of delirium. For +that one measure, his operatic fate was trembling in the balance. Then +the artist triumphed. Steady and clear, yet burdened with infinite +sadness, his voice rang out, filling the wide spaces of the great house, +filling the smallest heart within it with its throbbing, passionate +power.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Yet the bravest heart may swell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In the moment of farewell."</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The house was rocking and ringing with applause, as the song died away; +but Thayer heard it with unheeding ears. His old destiny had fulfilled +itself. The chord which closed his cavatina had sealed his fame in +opera; but his fame was to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> him as ashes in his mouth. With that same +chord, he had wilfully bidden farewell, not to <i>Marguerite</i>, his sister, +but to Beatrix, the wife of his friend, Sidney Lorimer. And, as the +chord died away, with its death there also died his passionate love. Who +could foretell what its resurrection would be? Or when? Or where?</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</h2> + +<p>"Otto, how does it feel to be a celebrity?" Miss Gannion asked abruptly, +one afternoon in late May.</p> + +<p>The young German smiled.</p> + +<p>"How should I know?"</p> + +<p>"From experience, of course. Your artistic probation appears to be over. +Your winning the prize for the suite has settled it for all time, and +now I am doing my best to readjust myself to the idea that my boy friend +Otto is the new composer Arlt about whom the critics are waging inky +war."</p> + +<p>"What is the use?" he inquired, as he crossed the room and sat down at +the piano.</p> + +<p>"Because I really must begin to face the fact that you are destined to +be one of the immortals, and treat you with proper respect." Her tone +was full of lazy amusement and content. "Hereafter, I shall never dare +tell you when your necktie is askew, and as for training you in the +management of your cuffs!" She paused expressively, and they both +laughed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was a blow to me to find that reputation depends upon such things," +Arlt said, after a thoughtful pause.</p> + +<p>"Not reputation; success. The two things don't necessarily touch each +other. One is a matter of brains, the other of fashion." Her accent was +almost bitter. "You have deserved one; you are beginning to have the +other thrust upon you. How does it make you feel?"</p> + +<p>"As if I owed a great deal to you."</p> + +<p>The girlish pink flush rose in Miss Gannion's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear boy. But really I have done nothing."</p> + +<p>Arlt turned his back to the piano and, clasping his hands over his +knees, spoke with simple gravity.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gannion, here in America, I have had three good friends, Mr. +Thayer, you, and Miss Van Osdel. Everybody knows what Mr. Thayer has +done to help me; I am the only one who knows about you and Miss Van +Osdel, and I know it better and better, the more I learn to understand +your American ways. It was not always easy for a woman in society to +accept as her friend a stranger musician without reputation and without +social backing, to acknowledge him in public and to insist that her +friends should acknowledge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> him. At first I took it as a matter of +course. I know better now, and I know that you and Miss Van Osdel must +have given up some things for the sake of helping me along."</p> + +<p>Miss Gannion paused, before she answered.</p> + +<p>"Otto," she said at length; "I am a lonely woman, and my life has been +broader for knowing you. I mean that <i>you</i> in the plural, for there have +been a good many of you. Some have been successful, some have not; a few +have become famous, just as you are doing. Some of them have been sent +to me; some have come of their own accord. We have been close friends +for a while, and then they have gone on their ways. Every going has left +its scar. I was a woman, sitting still in my place by the fire; they +were marching with the procession, stopping only for a little while and +then going on out of my sight. It has made me feel so futile. But, of +them all, you are the only one who has suggested that the <i>vivandičre</i> +may be a useful element on the march. It was all I could do, and I did +it. I am glad if it counted for anything."</p> + +<p>"Everything in this world counts but cipher, naught, or zero," Bobby +observed suddenly, as he came strolling into the room at Sally's side. +"You aren't a cipher, Miss Gannion. They're<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> either evanescent or tubby, +according to whether you look at their moral or their physical +proportions. You don't fit either measurement. Therefore you aren't a +cipher. Therefore you count. How do, Arlt? No; don't get up from the +piano. You owe me a sonata, at least, to pay for the stunning headlines +I gave you, yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Was that your work, Bobby?" Sally asked, while she shook hands with +Arlt. "I thought it must have come from the bake-shop where they do all +the other pi. Did you see it, Miss Gannion? It reminded me of <i>A was an +Apple Pie: Arlt's Art Analyzed</i>. Properly, the second line should have +been: <i>By Bobby Bunkum</i>; but I suppose his ideas ran low, when he +reached that point."</p> + +<p>"I say, Arlt," Bobby suggested; "why don't you write a series of +articles on How to Get on in the World?"</p> + +<p>"They would only take one line: Know Miss Gannion and Miss Van Osdel," +Arlt retorted, with unwonted quickness.</p> + +<p>Bobby shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No go, Arlt. I've known them for years, known them intimately; and look +at me! I haven't budged an inch in the upward march. The fact is, I have +just budged downward. My new underling is a boy of seventy and afraid +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> a draught, so in common humanity I have had to make over to him my +warm corner at the editorial board, and remove myself to the chilly +places below the salt. To be sure, it gives me extra good purchase on +the devil, as my present desk is just in his pathway to the Chief, and I +can smite him as he goes by."</p> + +<p>"Does he turn the other cheek?" Sally queried. "One lump, Miss Gannion. +I am still keeping up my Lenten penance, for I acquired the taste for +it, and I can't bring myself back to the old extravagant ways. Next +Lent, probably I shall mortify the flesh by taking two lumps."</p> + +<p>Bobby handed her the cup.</p> + +<p>"The other cheek," he answered. "Which do you mean? He's all cheek, all +over himself, and it offers itself, whichever way he turns. Have you +seen Thayer lately, Arlt?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday afternoon. He came down to my room to rehearse the songs he +is to sing, next Saturday."</p> + +<p>"What is Saturday? You fellows are going ahead at such a rate that I +can't keep track of you, unless I have an engagement book for your +especial benefit."</p> + +<p>"Bobby!" Sally expostulated. "Mr. Arlt's suite is to be played, +Saturday, and Mr. Thayer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> is to be the soloist for the concert. You +oughtn't to have forgotten that, especially when you asked me to go with +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I do remember now," Bobby replied serenely. "I knew I had some +duty on hand for Saturday, just when I wanted to run up to Englewood for +a little golf. What makes you do music in pleasant weather, Arlt? It's +mean to keep a fellow in-doors at this season."</p> + +<p>"It is our last appearance," Arlt answered.</p> + +<p>Bobby raised his brows in feigned terror.</p> + +<p>"Nothing mortal, I hope."</p> + +<p>"No. We are going abroad, early in June."</p> + +<p>"Just the other fellow's luck! I wish I were a genius, to go frisking +about Europe instead of inking my fingers at home."</p> + +<p>Arlt shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No frisking for us. We are going to study."</p> + +<p>With characteristic promptitude, Bobby dragged out his hobby, mounted it +and was off at a gallop.</p> + +<p>"That's always the way with you musicians! You work till you are tired +of it; then you go off and shirk, and call it studying. I used to think +you were the elect of the earth. Now I doubt it."</p> + +<p>"Have some more tea, Bobby," Miss Gannion suggested.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bobby waved her aside.</p> + +<p>"Am I a child, to be diverted with soothing drinks? Never! I must have +my cry out, Miss Gannion. You and Sally can be talking about the last +fashion in peignoirs, if you wish. I don't know what they are; but I did +a scarehead about them for the Sunday fashion page, last week. The woman +who generally sees to it had mumps, and I substituted. I thought I did +it superbly: <i>Death to Décolleté: Peignoirs Popular for Suburban +Suppers</i>. That was the way I did it, and I was sure she would be +pleased; but she cut me dead on the stairs, the first day she +convalesced enough to be out. Arlt, musicians are second-rate beings, at +best."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry. Perhaps you can suggest a remedy," Arlt replied literally.</p> + +<p>"Cast off your leading strings, and work out your own theories to suit +yourselves," Bobby answered unhesitatingly. "Now look here, I used to +think that it was greater to create music than to evolve literature; now +I know more, I know it isn't. When a man writes a book, he goes ahead +and does it according to the light of nature and the sense that is in +him. Sometimes it is good; mostly it isn't, but at least he has done it +out of himself and by himself. When you write a sym<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>phony, you do it out +of yourself, but not by yourself. You do it by the exact rules that +somebody else before you has laid down. You can have just so many themes +and so many episodes, though it would puzzle the <i>Concertmeister</i> of the +heavenly choir to tell where the themes leave off and the episodes +begin. You know you have got those rules to hang on to, and they are a +great support in seasons of mental famine. Two themes and a subsidiary, +and a lot of episodes for padding: that's all you need, and they are +bound to come on in just a given order. Can you imagine a novelist +sitting down and fitting his work neatly into a box measured off into +compartments: one hero, one heroine, one extra, plus episodic sunsets +and moonbeams galore? Not much! He makes his rules as he goes along. +Sally, which is greater, to create a gown, or to cut it out by a paper +pattern?"</p> + +<p>"To cut it out, of course," Sally answered unexpectedly. "The patterns +never fit, and it is more work to bring them into the shape of any human +being than it is to start out with a free hand, in the first place."</p> + +<p>But Miss Gannion challenged her.</p> + +<p>"Sally, did you ever make a gown?"</p> + +<p>"Never; but that doesn't prevent my having theories," Sally replied +airily.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And I have had practice. I attempted once, when my years were less and +my zeal more, to clothe an orphan with the work of my own hands. I +thought I would operate free hand, as you call it, and I wish you could +have beheld the result. The orphan's own mother would never have +recognized her babe in the midst of the strange, polyangular bundle of +cloth. I suspect that the same might be said of a good many novelists, +and that a judicious trimming of the seams according to some established +pattern might improve their work."</p> + +<p>Arlt nodded approvingly.</p> + +<p>"As usual, Miss Gannion has spoken wisely," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gannion has only echoed my words," Sally objected.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. You said it was harder to work from a pattern; I merely +suggested that the results were more satisfactory."</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind," Sally returned promptly. "I don't care about that, +so long as the vote goes against Bobby."</p> + +<p>"And then, this matter of studying," Bobby went on, disdaining her +interruption. "Now, when you get hard up for ideas, Arlt, when you +actually can't get enough out of your gray matter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> to fill up your +pattern, you go off somewhere and study something. Now, if I—"</p> + +<p>"What have you to do with it, Bobby?" Miss Gannion queried.</p> + +<p>"I represent literature, of course, just as Arlt represents music. If I +were to go off and study something, what would you all think?"</p> + +<p>"That it was the best possible thing you could possibly do," Sally +retorted.</p> + +<p>Bobby frowned.</p> + +<p>"You are so feminine and subjective, Sally. I suppose you can't help it, +though. But really—Arlt, for instance, has produced a prize +composition, while he is still studying. That's exactly what we used to +do in prep. school. Fancy a school for novelists, with night classes for +indigent poets! It would be a parallel case; but what would be the +effect upon literature?"</p> + +<p>Arlt rose deliberately and crossed the room to the empty chair at Miss +Gannion's side.</p> + +<p>"All in all," he answered quietly; "from my slight knowledge of the +teeming millions who are standing in line before the portals of American +literature, I think the establishment of such a school ought to be the +first duty of a self-respecting American government."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thayer, meanwhile, was preparing for a longer absence from America than +even Arlt was aware. The late winter and early spring had been for him a +season of perfect professional success. <i>Faust</i> had been the first of +many operas, for the illness of the regular baritone had taken a sudden +turn for the worse and had ended his work for the season, and the +manager had insisted that Thayer should fill his place. The event had +fully justified the prediction of the old <i>maestro</i>, and in his operatic +rôles Thayer was finding out where his real greatness lay. His mental +personality, as well as his huge figure, demanded room to manifest +itself. His acting was dramatic, yet full of control and reserve power, +and his voice, fresh from its weeks of rest, richer and stronger than +ever, was endowed with a new note of pathos, of longing for something +quite beyond his power of attainment. Measured by the eye, Thayer held +the world in the hollow of his hand. The ear alone betrayed the fact +that he found the world as hollow as the curve of his encircling +fingers. But when Thayer squared his jaw and threw back his shoulders +before one of his great arias, eye and ear united in saying that the +time would come when, by sheer might of his will, he would fill up that +world until the weight of its fulness should fit his encircling hand +with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> contact as absolute as it would be lasting. Meanwhile, he was +biding his time.</p> + +<p>Nominally, he was going to Germany for a little study and much rest. In +reality, he was considering an invitation to sing at Bayreuth, that +summer; and among his papers was an unsigned contract which would keep +him in European cities during the whole of the following winter. He was +leaving his plans undecided, until he could hear definite news from +Beatrix.</p> + +<p>Living within a block of her house, he had nevertheless seen her but +once since Lorimer's death. Once only, less than a week after the +funeral, she had received him when he called. The call had been an +uncomfortable one for them both. Neither had been able to forget that +morning together in the cottage. It had been impossible for them to meet +as if that hour had never been; neither could they accept the truth +which had revealed itself at that time, and face its consequences. As +yet, the time for that had not come. Nevertheless, they both felt +relieved when the call was ended. Living side by side in the same social +circle, they could not fail to meet, as time went on and Beatrix resumed +her old place in the world. Any change in their attitude to each other +would not pass unchallenged. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> were bound to meet; it was imperative +that they should meet in precisely the old way. They both were wise +enough to feel that the sooner they met, the better. Unbroken ice +thickens most quickly. However, when Thayer, after a half-hour of +platitudes, went down the steps, Beatrix, locked into her own room, +paced the floor, to and fro, to and fro again, like a caged panther, +while Thayer walked the streets until time to dress for the stage, and +then sang the part of <i>Valentine</i> with a furious madness of despair +which merely added another stiff little leaf to his garland of fame. The +next day, the papers waxed enthusiastic over Thayer's temperament, and +Beatrix, alone in her room, read the papers and smiled sadly to herself +as she read. Thayer's fate was, in a sense, less hard to bear than her +own. He could find outlet for his sorrow. She, perforce, was dumb.</p> + +<p>Since that day, Thayer had caught no glimpse of Beatrix. She had seen +him repeatedly, however, when she had been driving; and once, at Bobby's +urgent pleading, hidden from view in the back of a box, she had heard +him sing <i>Valentine</i>. On the way home, she had decided that, after all, +perhaps his fate was no easier than hers to bear. His sorrow had +measured itself by the greatness of his personality.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the May days passed by, rumors reached the ears of Thayer that all +was not well with Beatrix. In her strict retirement, he could get no +word from her; but at length, as the rumors increased, he sought out +Bobby Dane. When he came away from Bobby, his face was stern and seamed +with deep lines around his rigid lips, and he vouchsafed to Arlt no +reason for his sudden postponement of the date for their sailing.</p> + +<p>"The first of July will bring us there in season," he explained briefly. +"I find I can't leave New York until after the twentieth."</p> + +<p>So, in the first fierce heat of early June, the days dragged slowly +along. Day after day, Thayer sat long at his desk in the attitude of +passive waiting. Now and then he read over his unsigned contracts, +wondering, meanwhile, whether he would ever sign them. If Beatrix lived, +he had determined to spend the next year abroad. In the other event—He +shook his head.</p> + +<p>Nothing then could make much difference in his future.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</h2> + +<p>During the second week in June, Beatrix's baby was born, and for days +afterward, the mother's life, so long in danger, now hung by a thread. +Then the good old fibre of the Danes reasserted itself, and Beatrix came +slowly upward from the verge of the River of Death. Bobby's face cleared +itself of its shadows, Thayer signed his contracts and, the next week, +he and Arlt finally sailed for Europe.</p> + +<p>In the long days of her convalescence, Beatrix manifested an utter +indifference to the tidings from the outer world. She lay by the hour, +her baby on her arm, looking down at the fuzzy little head and the red +little face whose indeterminate features were fast taking the stamp of +those of their father. Strange to say, the fact caused Beatrix no +repulsion. The fires of her being seemed to have burned themselves out, +and even her feeling to Lorimer shared in her general apathy. In the +weeks which had followed his death, she had made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> up her mind that the +baby would be fashioned in his image; and she accepted the fact +philosophically, as a part of her life from which there was no appeal.</p> + +<p>From the first, the baby was a quiet child. Apparently he shared his +mother's apathy towards all things, and he lay by the hour in a sluggish +drowse, leaving his mother free to allow her thoughts to wander at will. +They did wander, too. Lying there, passive, in her luxurious room, +Beatrix's mind scaled the heights of heaven, sounded the depths of hell. +The one had lain within her reach; but she had never known it until too +late. The other had crossed her path in the past; it was opening before +her future. Her baby boy, so plainly created in the physical likeness of +his father, could not have failed to receive something of his moral +nature. She quailed before the grim promise of the future and, drawing +the blanket over her face, she tried to shut out the sight and the +thought of her child. And, in the first weeks of her wedded life, she +had so longed for the time when a baby head should cuddle into the curve +of her arm! At the thought, she pulled the blanket away again +impetuously and, of its own accord, her arm tightened around the little +bundle of flannels. He was not entirely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> Lorimer's child; he was her +own, her very own. He must have inherited something of the sturdy +constitution, the steady nerves of the Danes. The stronger, better blood +was bound to triumph; and she would work unceasingly to oust that other +taint from his nature. He was her child; she loved him, and she would +give her life to the training which should make him able to wipe out the +stain upon his father's record.</p> + +<p>July was burning the white asphalt streets, before Beatrix was strong +enough to be moved to Monomoy. Bobby dropped in to see her, the +afternoon before she left town.</p> + +<p>"Funny little beggar!" he observed, as he sat down opposite Beatrix and +gravely inspected the baby in her arms.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of him?" Beatrix asked, while she smoothed down the +wholly superfluous skirt and then, tilting the baby forward, +straightened the frills on the back of his little yoke.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's not so bad as he might be," Bobby responded encouragingly, as +he snapped his fingers in the face of the child who stared back at him +impassively.</p> + +<p>The mother's face flushed.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Bobby?" she asked a little sharply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> + +<p>Too late, Bobby saw his blunder. In his consternation, he blundered yet +more.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea he would be half so presentable a boy. Just the living +image of Lorimer; isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"You see it, too?"</p> + +<p>Bobby was at a loss to interpret the sudden incisive note in her voice. +No one had warned him that the baby's likeness to his father had been a +forbidden subject, and he could not know that Beatrix, in brooding over +the matter, had reached a point where she questioned whether the +resemblance might not exist solely in her own imagination. Bobby's next +words annulled that hope and confirmed her fears.</p> + +<p>"He's as like him as two peas, cunning as he can be. There, boy, look at +your Uncle Bobby!" Bobby bent forward and with his forefinger gently +tilted the little face upward. "Lorimer's eyes to perfection," he +observed. Then, as he met Beatrix's eyes, he suddenly understood their +wild appeal. Dropping the baby's chin, he laid his hand on his cousin's +shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about that, Beatrix," he added reassuringly. +"He probably will take it out in looking, and, for his character, hark +back to some remote Dane or other. Lorimer was a handsome fellow, and +the baby might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> do worse than look like him. Otherwise, he may go off on +a tangent. Suppose he should take after me, for instance!"</p> + +<p>Bobby spoke cheerily, hoping that Beatrix's laugh would follow his +words. Instead, she caught his hand with her disengaged one and pressed +it fiercely to her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bobby, I wish he would!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Bobby looked rather abashed. He and Beatrix had been intimate from their +babyhood; yet neither one of them was prone to self-betrayal, and this +was the most demonstrative scene which had ever taken place between the +cousins. As a rule, they were too sure of each other to feel the need +for expressions of affection. For a minute, Bobby patted Beatrix's cheek +with clumsy gentleness. Then he returned to the baby.</p> + +<p>"Come here, old man! Come to your Uncle Bobby!" he urged, holding out +his hands invitingly. "Come along here." And before Beatrix could utter +a word of protesting caution, the baby was lying in the hollow of +Bobby's elbow and blinking up at his new nurse with round brown eyes.</p> + +<p>Bobby stared down at him benignly.</p> + +<p>"Feels cunning; doesn't he, Beatrix? He seems to fit into one's grip +rather well. One<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> can't help liking the little beggar. By the way, +what's his name?"</p> + +<p>"Sidney," Beatrix responded quietly.</p> + +<p>"The deuce!" In his surprise, Bobby almost dropped the baby.</p> + +<p>Beatrix answered his unspoken thought.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have decided that it is best. I must meet fate anyway, and I may +as well do it boldly, with a direct challenge. The name won't make any +difference to the baby, and it may help to make me more patient and +forgiving."</p> + +<p>Gently Bobby laid the baby back into Beatrix's arms. Then he rose.</p> + +<p>"No," he said slowly; "it won't make any difference, and it gives the +chance of bringing the name back to its old standing. You may take lots +of comfort with the boy, Beatrix. I hope so with all my heart, for I +know how you need it. Things have gone rather against you, these last +months; but perhaps the bad times are all over now." At the door, he +lingered and looked back. "If you need me at Monomoy, Beatrix, don't +hesitate to send for me. Sometimes it is a comfort to have somebody of +one's own generation within hail."</p> + +<p>Six weeks later, she realized the truth of his words when Bobby came +striding into the room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> with the family doctor at his heels. For the +past forty-eight hours, Beatrix had watched convulsion after convulsion +rack the tiny frame, wear itself out and die away, only to be followed +by another and yet another. Under this new sorrow, the grandparents had +given way entirely. They were powerless to help, and Beatrix, pitying +their misery which she knew was more than half for her sake, had sent +them away from the room. For forty-eight hours, she and the nurse had +kept an unbroken vigil; and Beatrix had held herself steady until she +had caught sight of Bobby's strong, happy, pitiful face in the doorway.</p> + +<p>When she came to herself once more, she was lying on the couch in the +hall, with Bobby beside her and Bobby's protecting arm around her +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It may not be so bad, dear," he was saying soothingly. "Schirmer will +pull him through, if anybody can, and he says it isn't at all hopeless. +Lots of youngsters have convulsions and come out of them, jolly as +grigs."</p> + +<p>Beatrix saw no need for telling him the new fear which had tortured her, +during those endless hours of waiting after she had sent off her +telegram. Instead, she took his sympathy as it was given, with loving +optimism; but she nestled even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> more closely against her cousin's side, +as if for the hour she gained strength from the touch of his protecting +arm. It was her one spot of perfect restfulness.</p> + +<p>Late that night, Bobby had a talk with the doctor. It left him glad that +already he had spoken with encouragement to Beatrix. The next two days, +he gave his time to her absolutely. Then his official summons came, and +reluctantly he returned to his desk.</p> + +<p>By the time Beatrix was in town again, she was ready to admit to herself +that hopelessness might mean something worse than death. By the end of +the winter, the <i>might</i> had ceased to be potential and had become +actual. Since those August days at Monomoy, the convulsions had recurred +at irregular intervals. The physical constitution of the Danes had +refused to give way to them; the nervous instability of the Lorimers had +yielded to them utterly. Unless some miracle intervened, the child must +face a future of vigorous body and enfeebled brain; and Beatrix, as she +watched him, told herself the melancholy truth that the day of miracles +was irrevocably dead. It seemed to her that the years were stretching +out before her in an empty, unending trail, that she must follow it +alone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> hand in hand with her child, bound forever to watch for the +signs of an intellect which never, never should appear. And she was the +one to blame. It was no less her own fault, because she had assumed the +responsibility in arrogant ignoring of its true import.</p> + +<p>One afternoon in late May found her sitting by the open window with the +child in her arms, when Thayer was announced. She greeted him with +something of her old cordiality. Then she rang for the nurse to take +away the baby.</p> + +<p>"When did you get home again?" she asked, when they were seated alone +together.</p> + +<p>"This morning. I landed at ten, and I came directly to you."</p> + +<p>She ignored the eagerness of his tone.</p> + +<p>"You have been wonderfully successful, I am told."</p> + +<p>"Well enough. It was nothing wonderful, though."</p> + +<p>"Bobby has kept me informed of your glories," she insisted, with a +slight smile; "and Mr. Arlt has really enjoyed them as well as if they +had been his own."</p> + +<p>"That is characteristic of Arlt. His letters were noncommittal; but +Bobby says he has had his own fair share of honors. I am glad, for he +deserves them."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Indeed he does," she assented heartily. "We all are so glad for him; +and it is a delight to watch the odd, boyish modesty with which he +accepts his own fame. He is the most unspoiled genius I have ever +known."</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. Thayer grew restless under it. He had not +hurried his return, left his luncheon untasted and escaped from a dozen +reporters, in order to sit and discuss Arlt with that black-gowned woman +the tip of whose finger outweighed for him the clumsy honors of the +earth. All the way over, he had paced the steamer's deck by the hour, +planning what words he should say to Beatrix when at last they stood +face to face, with only the long-buried dead between them. He had +supposed that lie had learned his lesson by heart. Nevertheless, now +that he was at last in her presence, his words fled from his mind. +Beatrix broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"You have seen Bobby, then?"</p> + +<p>"He met me at the steamer."</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes to his, half-appealingly, half-defiantly.</p> + +<p>"And he told you—"</p> + +<p>"He has told me everything," Thayer interrupted her. He rose restlessly, +crossed the room to the mantel and examined a vase with unseeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> eyes. +Then, returning, he halted directly before her, straightened his +shoulders and drew a deep, full breath. "Beatrix?" he said unsteadily.</p> + +<p>She shrank from before the words she had been dreading for so long.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" she begged him.</p> + +<p>"But I must." His voice was steady now. "We both of us know the truth, +and the time has come when we can acknowledge it. I have waited long, +dear, long and patiently. For fifteen months, I have left you to +yourself and to the past. Now it is time for the future. I have come +home, Beatrix, to marry you at last."</p> + +<p>Before the glad tenderness that thrilled in his tone, she sank back in +her deep chair and buried her face in her hands. Thayer waited quietly, +patiently. He had told his story; he could afford to wait for her +answer, since he never doubted what it was to be. The silence between +them lasted for moments. From upstairs in another part of the house, +there came a fretful childish cry. Then the stillness dropped again. At +length, Beatrix let her hands fall into her lap. There was an instant of +utter listlessness; then quietly she rose and stood facing him, drawn to +her full height. Her cheeks were white, her eyes unstained by any tears, +her voice quite level.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she said slowly; "but what you ask is impossible."</p> + +<p>He started, as if struck with a lash.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"That I cannot marry you."</p> + +<p>He stared at her in amazement, while the color left his cheeks and then +rushed again to his temples where the veins stood out like knotted +cords. For the moment, he was angry, baffled by the shock of her +unexpected answer. Then he mastered himself.</p> + +<p>"Do you not love me any longer?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Any longer?" Her tone sought to express haughty disdain; but her eyes +drooped before the fire in his own.</p> + +<p>"Never mind the words," he said sharply. "In times like this, one can't +stop to pick for rhetorical effects. It is enough that I love you with +all the manhood there is in me, and that for months I have counted upon +winning your love in return. And now—"</p> + +<p>She interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"And now you have found out your mistake," she said sadly.</p> + +<p>"Yes." There was a long interval of silence, before he added, "And is +this final?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is." Her stiffened lips could scarcely form the words.</p> + +<p>He turned to go away. All the alertness which had marked his coming had +dropped away from him. He moved slowly and with drooping shoulders. +Already his face had grown haggard underneath the bronzing of his sea +voyage. Beatrix stood motionless, watching him, struggling to master +herself, to hold herself firmly to her resolve which had been taking +shape within her, during all that past winter and spring.</p> + +<p>Halfway across the room, Thayer hesitated, turned and came back to her +side.</p> + +<p>"Beatrix," he said impetuously; "we may as well face this thing +squarely. It won't be the first time. We didn't wreck the future then; +we mustn't do it now. The cases are different, though. This time, the +danger lies in half-truths. We must speak plainly."</p> + +<p>She attempted to check him; but, for the once, she was powerless to stem +the tide of his words, and he hurried on,—</p> + +<p>"We loved each other. There is no disloyalty to Lorimer in admitting it +now. He belonged to the past, and, in that past, you belonged to him. +The past is over and ended now, and, for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> future, we must belong to +each other. It is for that that I am here."</p> + +<p>She tried in vain to control her voice. Then she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"What has come between us?" he demanded. "You did love me. Look up, +Beatrix! Yes, your eyes tell the truth about it. You love me now; I am +here to prove it, and to marry you in spite of yourself."</p> + +<p>Gently she put away his arms and faced him.</p> + +<p>"No. It is impossible."</p> + +<p>He wavered before the finality of her tone.</p> + +<p>"But you love me," he urged.</p> + +<p>She was silent, and stood with her eyes fixed on the floor at his feet. +Then, of a sudden, she raised her eyes to his, and Thayer was dazzled by +the light that was shining in them.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, with a quiet dignity which he could not gainsay. +"And that is the very reason that I will not marry you. I love you too +well—so well that I can never allow you to become the father of Sidney +Lorimer's child."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FOUR" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FOUR"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</h2> + +<p>"I believe my world is overcrowded," Sally said, one January afternoon, +two years later.</p> + +<p>"Arlt, why don't you take the hint?" Bobby asked languidly. "I am too +comfortable to stir, and she evidently wishes to get rid of somebody."</p> + +<p>"Possibly she means me; but I was the last to come, so I shall outstay +you both," Miss Gannion said, laughing. "At least, Sally, your +hospitality does you credit."</p> + +<p>With leisurely fingers, Sally was opening her teaball; but Bobby +interposed.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't make any tea for us, Sally. I know you are afraid it may not +hold out for your crowded universe, and we three have been here often +enough to have dispelled any illusions about the quality of your cups. +Two are cracked, and one has a nick exactly in the spot where we drink. +I suspect Arlt of having cut his wisdom teeth on it."</p> + +<p>"Only women cut their wisdom teeth on a teacup," Miss Gannion observed. +"But really,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> Sally, I would save my tea until the crowd shows itself."</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You interrupted me in the midst of my thesis."</p> + +<p>Bobby interrupted again.</p> + +<p>"It is our only chance to get in a word. We have to insert its thin edge +at a comma, or else keep still. You never have any conversational +semicolons, to say nothing of periods."</p> + +<p>"As I was saying," Sally repeated pertinaciously; "my world is +overcrowded. I have so many acquaintances that I never get time to enjoy +my friends."</p> + +<p>"What about now?" Bobby queried. "Here are we, and here is time. Which +is lacking: enjoyment, or friendship?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is an interlude, and doesn't count. We shall just get into the +midst of a little rational conversation, though, and two or three stupid +people will come in and reduce us to talking about the weather."</p> + +<p>"You might send out cards," Arlt suggested, with the hesitating accent +which was so characteristic of him. "Why not announce that on Tuesdays +you are at home to clever people and friends only?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; but it is no subject for joking," Sally persisted. "Last Tuesday +in all that storm, for the first time this winter, Mr. Thayer came to +see me. I know how busy he is, and I was just preparing to make the most +of his call, when Mrs. Stanley came swishing and creaking into the room, +and she babbled about her servants and her lumbago until Mr. Thayer took +his departure. I wanted to administer poison."</p> + +<p>"Try an anodyne," Bobby advised her. "They say that stout people yield +easily to their influence. By the way, why is it polite to call a woman +stout, but rude in the extreme to dub her fat? That is one of the +problems I have never been able to solve. I used the wrong word in +regard to Mrs. Stanley, one night, and she overheard me. Since then, she +hauls in her latch-string hand over hand, whenever I turn the corner."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind, Bobby?" Sally inquired. "The two most peaceful years of my +social life were the years immediately following the day I advised Mrs. +Stanley not to attempt <i>Juliet</i> in public. Lately, I have wished that +her memory were just a bit more retentive. Tell me, has anybody seen +Beatrix, this week?"</p> + +<p>"She was at Carnegie Hall, last night."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> + +<p>Arlt's face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I coaxed her into going. You ought to feel honored, Arlt; it is +the first music she has heard, this season."</p> + +<p>"Hasn't she been to hear Mr. Thayer?"</p> + +<p>"No; she hasn't heard him since his first season. I tell her she has no +idea how he has developed, nor how much she is losing; but she seems to +have lost her love for music."</p> + +<p>"Poor, dear girl! I don't wonder," Sally said impetuously.</p> + +<p>But Arlt interposed.</p> + +<p>"Isn't there a certain comfort to be gained from it?" he asked. "I +hoped—I had thought music was to inspire and help people, not to amuse +them."</p> + +<p>"It does in theory," Bobby returned; "only now and then it reminds one +of things, and upsets the whole scheme of inspiration. But I was +surprised that Beatrix went, last night."</p> + +<p>"What did she say?" Arlt inquired, with a frankness which yet bore no +taint of egotism.</p> + +<p>"Not very much; but her face at the close of your <i>Andante</i> told the +story. You touched her on the raw, Arlt; but you roused her pluck to +bear it. I think she will send you a note, to-day."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wonder if you realize what an event for your friends this symphony +was," Sally broke in.</p> + +<p>Arlt smiled. With growing manhood, his gravity also had grown; but his +slow little smile caused his face to light wonderfully. Denied all claim +to beauty, there was a great charm in the simple, modest dignity with +which he bore himself. He answered Sally's last words with an +earnestness that became him well.</p> + +<p>"Without my friends, my symphony would have been left unwritten."</p> + +<p>"And it was a perfect success," Sally added.</p> + +<p>"Success is never perfect," he returned a little sadly. "Its merit must +lie in its incompleteness, for that just urges us on to something +beyond. The success on which we rest, is no better than a failure. Some +day, I shall begin my ideal symphony; but, by the time I have reached my +final <i>Maestoso</i>, I shall have learned that my ideal has moved on again +beyond my reach."</p> + +<p>"In other words, a real genius is nothing but an artistic +butter-fingers," Bobby commented irreverently. "Stop your German +philosophizing, Arlt, and help us enjoy the present by playing your +<i>Scherzo</i>. Thayer says it is by far the best thing you have ever done."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> + +<p>Obediently Arlt crossed to the piano. In his absorption in his symphony, +he had by no means allowed his skill as a pianist to rust for want of +use, and a little sigh of utter content went around the group, as they +heard the dainty, clashing notes answer to the touch of his fingers. He +was in the full rhythm of his <i>Scherzo</i>, playing, humming, or whistling, +according to his whim and to the demands of the orchestral score, when +Sally gave a sudden exclamation of warning.</p> + +<p>"Behold the crowd! Here endeth the interlude! Enter Mrs. Lloyd Avalons!"</p> + +<p>"What in thunder is that woman doing here, Sally?" Bobby demanded, as +Arlt's fingers dropped from the keys in the very midst of a phrase.</p> + +<p>Sally shrugged her shoulders with the petulant gesture of a naughty +child.</p> + +<p>"How in thunder should I know, Bobby? I wish you'd ask her."</p> + +<p>"No use. She never takes a hint."</p> + +<p>A sudden change came over the group, as Mrs. Lloyd Avalons tripped +daintily into the room. Miss Gannion straightened herself in her chair +and took refuge in her lorgnette; Arlt's artistic fire extinguished +itself, and he once more became the taciturn young German, while Sally +assumed certain of the characteristics of a frozen olive.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> Bobby, +however, continued to smile upon the room with unabated serenity.</p> + +<p>"What a delight to find you here!" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons exclaimed, as she +took Sally's hand.</p> + +<p>"Miss Van Osdel has unsuspected depths to her nature," Bobby observed +gravely. "Long as I have known her, Mrs. Avalons, I assure you I have +never succeeded in finding her out."</p> + +<p>"Oh—yes. How like you that is, Mr. Dane! But I was including you all."</p> + +<p>"Taking us all in?" Bobby queried.</p> + +<p>"Taking us just as you find us," Sally added. "You also take tea, I +think, Mrs. Avalons?"</p> + +<p>"You'd better," Bobby urged, with inadvertent pointedness. "We were just +saying that Miss Van Osdel brews wisdom mingled with her tea."</p> + +<p>"Bobby!" Sally adjured him, in a horrified whisper; but Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons had already turned to Arlt.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to meet you here, Mr. Arlt. All your friends, to-day, are +eager to congratulate you on your wonderful symphony."</p> + +<p>"Yes." Arlt's tone was scarcely ingratiating, as he stirred his tea +violently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was beautiful, so sweet and harmonious. Really, you are quite +taking the city by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> storm. You must be very busy to do so much writing. +Don't you get very tired?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes." Arlt emptied his cup at a gulp.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must! But it is worth tiring one's poor head, to achieve such +splendid results. But don't you ever rest? All winter long, I have been +hoping you would find time to drop in on me, some Thursday."</p> + +<p>"Thank you." Arlt attacked his extra lump of sugar with his spoon. +Eluding his touch, it flew across the room and landed at Bobby's feet. +Stooping down, Bobby rescued it and gravely handed it back to Arlt.</p> + +<p>"Try it again, old man," he said encouragingly. "You'll get the proper +range in time."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Lloyd Avalons returned to the charge.</p> + +<p>"Well, as long as you won't come to me, I must seize my chance here, if +Miss Van Osdel will excuse me. We are getting up a concert for the +benefit of the Allied Day Nurseries, Mr. Arlt. It is to be very select +indeed, only artists of established reputation are to be invited to take +part, and we shall keep the price of the tickets up high enough to shut +out any undesirable people who might otherwise come. We are counting on +you for two numbers."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I cannot play."</p> + +<p>"In other words, Mrs. Avalons," Bobby remarked: "you'll have to discount +Arlt."</p> + +<p>"But we must have him," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons said, in real dismay. "We +never thought of his refusing."</p> + +<p>Arlt shook his head in grim silence.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lloyd Avalons took refuge in cajolery.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you must! We can't spare you, Mr. Arlt. If you don't care for +the charity, you'll do it for me; won't you?"</p> + +<p>Deliberately Arlt packed the sugar and the spoon into his cup, and set +the cup down on the table. Then he turned to face Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +squarely.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, that is the very reason I cannot do it, Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons. When Miss Gannion introduced me to you as Mr. Thayer's +accompanist and a pianist who needed engagements, you wished to refuse +me a place on your programme. Now that others have been good enough to +listen to me, you can make room for two numbers by me. I am very sorry; +but I shall be unable to accept your invitation."</p> + +<p>There was no underlying rancor in the slow, deliberate syllables; they +were merely the statement of an indisputable fact. Most women would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +have accepted them in silence. Not so with Mrs. Lloyd Avalons.</p> + +<p>"But you played for Miss Van Osdel, last week," she persisted.</p> + +<p>Arlt rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I played for Miss Van Osdel, last week, just as I hope to have the +pleasure of playing for her many times more in the future. However, that +is quite a different matter. Miss Van Osdel and I are very old friends, +and it will always be one of my very greatest pleasures to be entirely +at her service." He made a quaint little bow in Sally's direction, and +his face lighted with the friendly, humorous smile she knew so well. +Then he added, "And now I must bid you all a very good afternoon."</p> + +<p>He bowed again and walked away, with his simple dignity unruffled to the +last. Society might bless him, or society might ban. Nevertheless, it +was by no means Arlt's intention to turn his art into a species of +lap-dog, to come trotting in at society's call, and then be dismissed to +the outer darkness again, so soon as the round of its tricks was +accomplished. Egotism Arlt had not; but his independence shrank at no +one of the corollaries of his creed of art.</p> + +<p>Bobby lingered after the others had gone away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I say, Sally," he remarked at length, apparently apropos of nothing in +particular; "how does it happen that you have never married me?"<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 354px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i004.jpg" width="354" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'I believe I might as well ask you now'"</span> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p>"Probably for the very excellent reason that you have never asked me," +Sally responded frankly.</p> + +<p>With his hands in his pockets, Bobby sauntered across to the sofa where +she was sitting. There he stood contemplating her for a moment. Then he +settled himself at her side.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said slowly; "I believe I might as well ask you now."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FIVE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FIVE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</h2> + +<p>"I almost made a whole poem about you," Bobby said to Thayer, one night. +Thayer laughed.</p> + +<p>"How far did you get?"</p> + +<p>"The last line."</p> + +<p>"Then you actually did make one."</p> + +<p>Bobby shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I only made the next to the last line and the last. Then the +inspiration gave out."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" Thayer asked idly.</p> + +<p>The mirth left Bobby's face, and he looked up at his companion almost +defiantly.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Forget the things we cannot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And face the things we must,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>he said slowly.</p> + +<p>The dark red leaped up into Thayer's face, as he looked at Bobby keenly.</p> + +<p>"How long have you known it?"</p> + +<p>"Since the day I told you they had come home from abroad. You sang <i>St. +Paul</i>, that night, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> may remember, and afterwards I advised you to go +into grand opera. A fellow with a voice like yours can't expect to have +any secrets of his own." Bobby paused; then he added thoughtfully, "Life +is bound to be a good deal of a bluff for us all."</p> + +<p>Thayer walked on in silence for seven or eight blocks.</p> + +<p>"What do you think about it?" he asked then.</p> + +<p>"I think that I would almost delay my own wedding, for the sake of being +your best man."</p> + +<p>"And yet, she says it is impossible," Thayer said thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"When was that?"</p> + +<p>"Two years ago, when I came home from Europe."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Bobby said slowly, as the light dawned upon him. "That was the +blow that floored you, that summer; was it? I never knew. What was the +trouble? The child?"</p> + +<p>Thayer's assent was rather curt in its brevity. Bobby's blunt, kindly +questions hurt him; yet, after all, there was a sort of comfort in the +hurt. After two years of silence, it was a relief to be able to speak of +his trouble. It had grown no more, no less with the passing months; it +was just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> what it had been, at the close of that warm May afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I rather like Beatrix for the stand she has taken," Bobby +said meditatively. "She has the sense to know that, if she married you +and made you share the responsibility of that child, it would knock your +singing higher than a kite."</p> + +<p>Thayer interrupted him impatiently.</p> + +<p>"How much does my singing amount to me in comparison with my love for +Beatrix? I would cancel my engagements, to-morrow, if she would say the +word."</p> + +<p>"But, thank the Lord, she won't," Bobby replied placidly. "Don't be an +ass, Thayer. It is a popular fiction that an artist is expected to give +up his work for the sake of matrimony; but it's an immoral fable. The +gods have endowed you with a voice, and you have no business to fling +away the gift, when your keeping it can do so much good in the world. +You owe something to humanity, and a lot more back to the gods who gave +you the voice; you have no moral right to do anything that will hinder +your paying that debt. Beatrix knows this. She knows what would be the +inevitable effect of saddling you with the child, and she is right in +her decision."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Has she been talking the matter over with you?" Thayer asked, with +sudden jealousy.</p> + +<p>Bobby laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p>"No need. I have eyes of my own, and I learned my <i>Barbara Celarent</i> in +junior year."</p> + +<p>Another block was passed in silence. Then Thayer asked,—</p> + +<p>"Do you see Mrs. Lorimer often?"</p> + +<p>"Every day or so. I drop in there when I can, for she's not going out +much, and she needs to see more people."</p> + +<p>"How is she?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to tell you," Bobby answered, while a note of sadness +crept into his voice. "She is giving her life to that child; and, unless +you know the child, you can't imagine the wear and tear of such an +existence. I don't know which would be worse, the watching for the +intellect which never comes, or the waiting for the convulsions that +do."</p> + +<p>"What will be the end of it all?" Thayer broke out impetuously.</p> + +<p>Bobby shook his head.</p> + +<p>"God knows," he said drearily.</p> + +<p>Bobby spoke truly, for already it seemed that the divine plan was made +to take the imperfect little life back into its keeping. A sudden chill, +a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> sudden cold, and then the grim word, pneumonia! For days, Beatrix and +the nurse hung over the child, struggling almost against hope to conquer +the disease. Then it was that Beatrix realized how truly she had loved +her little son, how she would miss even the constant pain of his +presence. He was her very own, the one being in the world who belonged +absolutely to her; and she fought for his life with the fierceness of +despair. Then, just as it seemed that she had triumphed and the child +was out of danger, the same insidious foe which had ended Lorimer's +life, attacked the life of his child.</p> + +<p>Alone in the dusky room, Beatrix was sitting on the edge of the bed, her +arm around the boy who had just snuggled down for the night. Drowsily +his lids drooped; then he opened his eyes, met her eyes and struggled up +to reach her face.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, kiss!" he begged.</p> + +<p>That was all. Weakened by disease, the heart had been powerless to bear +the strain of the sudden motion, and the boy fell into his final sleep, +cradled in his mother's arms.</p> + +<p>That night, Thayer sang <i>The Flying Dutchman</i> in the same city where, +four years before, he had sung <i>St. Paul</i>. He had not been there, during +the intervening time; but his public had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> faithful to his memory, +and the little opera house was packed to its utmost limits to do honor +to its former favorite, as well as to its one-night opera season. For +some unaccountable reason, Thayer had liked the place. Both the house +and the audience had pleased him, and it had been at his own request +that the manager had put on <i>The Flying Dutchman</i>, for that night.</p> + +<p>During the last few months, <i>The Dutchman</i> had become Thayer's favorite +rôle. Even <i>Valentine</i> had palled upon him in time. Lingering deaths +become monotonous. When one dies them, four or five times a week, he +longs to hasten the course of events, to change the <i>Andante</i> to a +<i>Prestissimo</i>. To Thayer's later mood, it seemed that, psychologically +speaking, <i>Valentine</i> belonged to the ranks of the tenors. His riper +manhood demanded something a little more robust.</p> + +<p>Thayer never admitted to himself that his liking for <i>The Dutchman</i> came +from the personal interpretation which he put upon the story. In some +moods, he would have scoffed at the idea that there could be any +connection between himself, the successful artist whose single surname +on the bill boards could suffice to fill a house, and the wretched +<i>Dutchman</i> whose one defiance hurled at fate had condemned him to +life-long wandering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> over the face of the deep. Of course, he wandered, +too; but it was by easy stages and by means of Pullmans. The parallelism +failed utterly. Still, there was the possibility of ultimate salvation +gained through the faithful love of a woman. Nevertheless, Thayer's +analysis always brought him to the conclusion that he liked the opera +because his death scene was consummated in the brief space of two +measures.</p> + +<p>Thayer was feeling uncommonly alert and content, that night, and, +moreover, he liked his audience. Accordingly, he gave them of his best. +Never had his voice been richer, never had it rung with more dramatic +power than when, in his aria of the first act, he had ended his lament +with the declaration of his inevitable release on the slow-coming +Judgment Day. Then he stood waiting, a huge, lonely, brooding figure, +square-shouldered, square-jawed, defiant of fate, while softly the +chorus of sailors in the hold below echoed the closing phrase of his +song.</p> + +<p>Even into Thayer's experience, no such ovation had ever come before. At +first, the audience sat breathless, as if stunned by the might of his +tragedy. Then the applause came crashing down from the galleries, up +from the floor, in from the boxes, focussing itself from all sides upon +that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> single, lonely, dominant figure before it. And Cotton Mather +Thayer, as he listened with a quiet, impassive face, felt his heart +leaping and bounding within him. He knew, by an instinct which he had +learned to trust completely, that in the years to come, he would never +reach a greater height of artistic success than he had done just then. +One such experience could justify many a year of halting indecision. +Puritan to the core, he yet had proved true to his Slavonic birthright.</p> + +<p>As he left the stage with <i>Senta</i> at the end of the second act, a +messenger handed him a card.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman is waiting," he added. "He said he must see you, and that +he was in a hurry."</p> + +<p>Thayer glanced at the card.</p> + +<p>"Bring him to my dressing-room," he said.</p> + +<p>He glanced up in surprise, as the door opened and Bobby Dane entered. He +had expected to see Bobby, immaculate in evening clothes, come strolling +lazily in to congratulate him, as he had so often done before when +Thayer had sung in cities near New York. Instead, Bobby was still in +morning dress, and his face and manner betokened some great excitement.</p> + +<p>"I only heard your duet," he said abruptly;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> "but they are saying you +have outdone yourself. Will it break up your part, if I tell you some +news?"</p> + +<p>Thayer paled suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Is Beatrix—"</p> + +<p>"No; but the boy died at six o'clock, this afternoon. I went to the +house; but I found there was nothing I could do, so I caught the seven +o'clock train and came up to tell you. Sure it won't upset your +singing?"</p> + +<p>Thayer shook his head impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I've borne worse shocks, Dane, and gone on warbling as if nothing had +happened. Did Beatrix send for me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I only saw her for a minute. But I thought perhaps you would like +to go to her at once. She may need you."</p> + +<p>Thayer held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"This is like you, Dane. Thank you," he said briefly, as his man came to +warn him that <i>The Dutchman's</i> crew had begun their chorus.</p> + +<p>Bobby followed him into the wings.</p> + +<p>"There's a train down at two o'clock," he suggested. "Shall we take +that?"</p> + +<p>"The sooner, the better."</p> + +<p>"I'll get the places, then, and meet you at the hotel afterwards." And +Bobby departed, just as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> the strings and wind gave out their +announcement of <i>The Dutchman's</i> presence.</p> + +<p>In the years to come, Thayer never knew how he went through that final +scene. It was the automatic obedience of an artistic nature to its years +of careful training. He was conscious of hearing no note from the +orchestra, no sound from his own lips. His whole being was centred in +the thought that at last Beatrix was free; that, in her final freedom, +they must face the ultimate crisis of their destinies. Would it be for +weal, or for woe? His brain refused to give back answer to the question. +And, meanwhile, the close-packed audience was thrilling with the +passionate pain of his accepted doom.</p> + +<p>The crash of the renewed applause aroused him from his absorption and, +hand in hand with <i>Senta</i>, he emerged from his watery grave to bow his +appreciation. But it was not enough. Even to his dressing-room, he was +pursued by the cries of his name. Yielding reluctantly, he went out +before the curtain once again. Then he hurried back, and began tearing +off his costume with a feverish haste which took no account of the time +before he could get a train back to New York.</p> + +<p>As Thayer's cab turned into the familiar street and stopped at the door +of the Lorimers' house,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> the gray dawn was breaking. Before its wan +color, the street lamps turned to a sickly yellow, and the asphalt +street stretched away between them like a long chalky ruler bordered +with dots of luminous paint. Above him, the lights in the house glared +out across the sombre dawn, and something in their steady, unsympathetic +glow, in the gray dawn and in the yellowing lamps carried Thayer's mind +far back to that other winter morning when he had hurried through the +storm to be with Beatrix in her hour of need.</p> + +<p>The old butler opened the door to him, and took his coat. Then he +pointed towards the library.</p> + +<p>"She is there," he said softly, with an odd little quaver in his thin +old voice. "I think you may go to her."</p> + +<p>Thayer crossed the hall, laid his hand on the door, then hesitated. For +an instant, he shrank from the scene that might be before him. Then +instinctively he drew himself up and pushed open the door.</p> + +<p>"Beatrix?" he said.</p> + +<p>The color rushed to her face, as she sprang up and held out her hands.</p> + +<p>"Thank God, you have come!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/i006.jpg" width="150" height="131" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p><i>Little, Brown, and Co.'s New Novels</i></p> + +<p><b>The Siege of Youth.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frances Charles</span>, author of "In the Country God +Forgot." Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>This is a story of the present day, and its scene is San Francisco, +the author's home. It deals with art, with journalism, and with +human nature, and its love episodes are charming and true to life. +The three women characters of the book are finely drawn and +contrasted, there is much local color in the story, and a great +deal of bright and epigrammatic writing. The author's previous +book, "In the Country God Forgot," has been received with the +utmost favor. The <i>Boston Daily Advertiser</i> says it "discloses a +new writer of uncommon power."</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>Barbara, a Woman of the West.</b> By <span class="smcap">John H. Whitson</span>. Illustrated by Chase +Emerson. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A distinctively American novel, dealing with life in the far West, +and in many ways remarkable, with a novel plot and unusual +situations. The scenes of the story are a Western ranch, Cripple +Creek, and the City of San Diego. The heroine, Barbara, is the +loyal wife of a somewhat self-centred man of literary tastes, Roger +Timberly, living on a ranch in Kansas. Barbara's long and patient +quest for her husband, who has gone to Cripple Creek to visit a +mine, the means which she adopts to support herself, the ardor with +which she is wooed by Gilbert Bream, and the complications which +ensue are extremely interesting.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>The Shadow of the Czar.</b> By <span class="smcap">John R. Carling</span>. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. <i>Fifth Edition</i>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>An engrossing romance of the sturdy, wholesome sort, in which the +action is never allowed to drag, best describes this popular novel. +"The Shadow of the Czar" is a stirring story of the romantic +attachment of a dashing English officer for Princess Barbara, of +the old Polish Principality of Czernova, and the conspiracy of the +Duke of Bora, aided by Russia, to dispossess the princess of her +throne.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>The Dominant Strain.</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Anna Chapin Ray</span>, author of "Teddy, her +Book," etc. Illustrated in color by Harry C. Edwards. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Anna Chapin Ray's new novel has for its hero Cotton Mather Thayer, +whose father was a Boston blueblood, and whose mother was a Russian +musician. The latter gave to him his musical temperament, and the +title of the book suggests the author's main motif—the warring +strains, Puritan and Slav, in her hero. The central idea is the +mistake a woman makes who attempts to reform a man after marriage. +Beatrix Dane, the heroine of the book, discovers during her +engagement that Lorimer, her lover, has an inherited appetite for +drink, but from a mistaken sense of duty does not break her troth, +and her intimate friends shrink from any interference. Much of the +novel has a decidedly musical atmosphere, and the attitude of some +portions of New York society toward musical people is well +described.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>A Detached Pirate.</b> By <span class="smcap">Helen Milcete</span>. Illustrated in color by I. H. +Caliga. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A misunderstanding, a divorce, and a reconciliation furnish the +theme of this bright, clever, witty, society novel. The events +occur in London, in Halifax and its garrison, and in New York; and +the story is told by Gay Vandeleur, a very charming heroine. The +book will entertain and delight all who read it.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>The Pharaoh and the Priest.</b> Translated from the original Polish of +<span class="smcap">Alexander Glovatski</span>, by <span class="smcap">Jeremiah Curtin</span>. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. <i>Fifth Edition</i>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A powerful portrayal of Ancient Egypt in the eleventh century +before Christ is this novel in which Alexander Glovatski has +vividly depicted the pitiless struggle between the pharaoh and the +priesthood for supremacy. "Here is a historical novel in the best +sense," says the <i>New York Commercial Advertiser</i>, "a novel which +makes a vanished civilization live again."</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>Love Thrives in War.</b> A Romance of the Frontier in 1812. By <span class="smcap">Mary +Catherine Crowley</span>, author of "A Daughter of New France," "The Heroine of +the Strait," etc. Illustrated by Clyde O. De Land. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The surrender of General Howe and his American army to the British +and their Indian allies under Tecumseh, and other stirring events +of the War of 1812 form the historical background of Miss Crowley's +latest romance. The reader's interest is at once centered in the +heroine, Laurente Macintosh, a pretty and coquettish Scotch girl. +The many incidents which occur in the vicinity of Detroit are +related with skill and grace. The characters, real and fictitious, +are strongly contrasted. Miss Crowley's new romance is strongly +imaginative and picturesquely written, wholesome, inspiring, and +absorbing.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>The Wars of Peace.</b> By A. F. <span class="smcap">Wilson</span> Illustrated by H. C. Ireland. 12mo. +Decorated cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A strong and skilfully constructed novel upon a subject of the +greatest importance and interest at the present time,—"Trusts" and +their consequences. Albion Harding, a successful and immensely +ambitious financier, organizes an industrial combination which +causes much suffering and disaster, and eventually alienates his +only son, who, declining to enter the "Trust," withdraws his +capital from his father's business, and buys a small mill and +attempts to manage it according to his own ideas. The account of +the destruction of Theodore Harding's mill, and his rescue, is +dramatic, vivid, and thrilling.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>A Prince of Sinners.</b> By E. <span class="smcap">Phillips Oppenheim</span>, author of "A Millionaire +of Yesterday," "The Traitors," etc. Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>An engrossing story of English social life told by a skilled hand. +Lord Arranmore, returning to England after an absence of twenty +misspent years, finds his manly son, Kingston Brooks, unforgiving, +and determined to work out his own career. The difficulties with +which Brooks meets in carrying out his purpose, the attempts of +Lord Arranmore to assist him, together with the divided love +interest, make up an ingenious present-day romance, which possesses +an extraordinary fascination.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>A Rose of Normandy.</b> By <span class="smcap">William R. A. Wilson</span>. Illustrated by Ch. +Grunwald. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A most entertaining historical romance of France and Canada in the +reign of Louis XIV. Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle, and his +faithful lieutenant, Henri de Tonti, are leading characters, the +latter being the hero of the book. The explorations of La Salle, +his hardships and adventures, the love of Tonti for Renée, the +"Rose of Normandy," their escapes from the Indians, and other +adventures, make up a story which the author has told with great +spirit.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>The Spoils of Empire.</b> A Romance of the Old World and the New. By <span class="smcap">Francis +Newton Thorpe</span>, author of "The Constitutional History of the United +States," etc. Illustrated by Frank B. Masters. 12mo. Decorated cloth, +$1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The Spanish Inquisition and the wondrous splendor and power of +Mexico in the time of Montezuma furnish the rich historical +background of this brilliant and absorbing romance. The conquest of +Mexico by the adventurous Spaniards is vividly described; and the +passion of Juan Estoval, a follower of Cortez, for the beautiful +Aztec princess, Dorothea, the daughter of Montezuma, furnishes a +tender and charming love story.</p></blockquote> + + +<p><b>Sarah Tuldon.</b> A Woman Who Had Her Way. By <span class="smcap">Orme Agnus</span>, author of "Love in +Our Village," "Jan Oxber," etc. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated cloth, +$1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A remarkable study of an English peasant girl of strong character +who was developed by the circumstances of her life into a fine, +noble-hearted, and generous woman. Sarah Tuldon is a very unusual, +original, and racy type of character, and outside of Thomas Hardy's +books there is no such realistic study of conditions which exist in +England to-day among the laborers, as that given in the pages of +this story. The author has genuine humor and pathos and great +dramatic skill.</p> +</blockquote> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dominant Strain, by Anna Chapin Ray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOMINANT STRAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 29760-h.htm or 29760-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/6/29760/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/29760-h/images/cover.jpg b/29760-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..72be331 --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/29760-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/29760-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7776380 --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h/images/frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/29760-h/images/i001.jpg b/29760-h/images/i001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0776625 --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h/images/i001.jpg diff --git a/29760-h/images/i002.jpg b/29760-h/images/i002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e80bd34 --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h/images/i002.jpg diff --git a/29760-h/images/i003.jpg b/29760-h/images/i003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c99b16 --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h/images/i003.jpg diff --git a/29760-h/images/i004.jpg b/29760-h/images/i004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d1c55c --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h/images/i004.jpg diff --git a/29760-h/images/i006.jpg b/29760-h/images/i006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a7ce3f --- /dev/null +++ b/29760-h/images/i006.jpg diff --git a/29760.txt b/29760.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f501c3e --- /dev/null +++ b/29760.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9216 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dominant Strain, by Anna Chapin Ray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Dominant Strain + +Author: Anna Chapin Ray + +Illustrator: Harry C. Edwards + +Release Date: August 22, 2009 [EBook #29760] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOMINANT STRAIN *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + THE DOMINANT STRAIN + + + [Illustration: "'Beatrix?' he said"] + + + + + THE + DOMINANT STRAIN + + BY + ANNA CHAPIN RAY + + AUTHOR OF "TEDDY, HER BOOK," "PHEBE, HER PROFESSION," + "TEDDY, HER DAUGHTER," "NATHALIE'S CHUM," + "EACH LIFE UNFULFILLED" + + + _ILLUSTRATED BY_ + HARRY C. EDWARDS + + + BOSTON + LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY + 1903 + + + + + _Copyright, 1903_, + BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. + + _All rights reserved_ + + Published May, 1903 + + UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON + AND SON . CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +FROM DRAWINGS IN COLOR BY HARRY C. EDWARDS + + +"'Beatrix?' he said" _Frontispiece_ + +"'Can't you make any sort of an excuse for +yourself, Sidney?' she demanded" Page 123 + +"It was so that Thayer liked best to think of her" " 205 + +"Beatrix still sat at the disordered table" " 245 + +"'I believe I might as well ask you now'" " 339 + + + + +THE DOMINANT STRAIN + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +Beatrix smiled a little wearily. Intimate friends are sometimes cloying, +and she felt a certain irritation rising within her, as she watched +Sally's bright face under her French toque, and listened to the easy +stream of chatter which issued from Sally's lips. Sally had never faced +such a crisis as the one confronting Beatrix, that day. Moreover, she +had dimples, and it was impossible to believe in the sympathy of a +person whose dimples insisted upon coming into sight, even in the midst +of serious discussion. + +"If he hasn't already," Sally persisted; "he is bound to do it before +the season is over. Then what shall you tell him?" + +"Aren't you rushing things a little?" Beatrix inquired languidly. +"Please do remember that I only met Mr. Lorimer at the Horse Show, and +that it is three weeks to Lent." + +"That's nothing," Sally replied flatly, but flippantly. "You subjugated +Eric Stanford in half that time, and his gray matter has been in a +pulpy condition ever since." + +"I didn't know it." + +"About his gray matter?" + +"Oh, that is congenital trouble. I mean I didn't know that I had +subjugated him. Besides, that is different. He was Bobby Dane's chum, +and we took him into the family." + +"Took him in all over," Sally drawled. + +Beatrix's eyes flashed. There were things she would not say to Sally; +there were also things which Sally could not say to her. + +"I am so sorry," she said, as she rose; "but I must get ready for Mrs. +Stanley's recital. How does it happen you aren't going?" + +"For the most ignominious of reasons. I'm not bidden. Mrs. Stanley and I +were on a committee together, once upon a time. We squabbled over some +amateur theatricals, and she has cut my acquaintance ever since. I +always did say that there is nothing like amateur theatricals for +bringing out all the worst vices of humanity. If a Shakespearian revival +ever reaches the heavenly host, Gabriel and Michael will have to play +Othello and Iago turn and turn about, to prevent ill-feeling. Beatrix?" + +"Well?" + +"What do you honestly think of Mr. Lorimer?" + +Beatrix hesitated. Then she faced her friend. + +"That he is the most interesting man we have met, this season." + +"That's not saying any too much. Still, it is an admission. Are you +going to marry him?" + +"He hasn't asked me." + +"But he will." + +"How do you know?" + +"I do know." + +"I'm not so sure of it." Beatrix laughed nervously. + +"But if he does?" + +"I--I'm not so sure of that, either." + +"Beatrix! Why not?" + +Beatrix untied the long ribbons which belted her gown, and stood drawing +them slowly through and through her fingers. Sally leaned back in her +deep chair and watched her friend keenly, mercilessly. She and Beatrix +had fenced long enough; it was time for the direct thrust. Sidney +Lorimer was the most available man on that winter's carpet. Moreover, +for weeks he had been a patient follower in the wake of Beatrix Dane. +Beatrix might be as impenetrable as she chose; but Sally knew that, +during the past week, she had been reading the headings of certain +suppressed chapters in Lorimer's history, and that they had changed her +whole attitude towards the man. The signs were slight, too slight for +him to have recognized them as yet; but Sally's curious, pitiless eyes +had discerned them. She had discerned and disapproved, and she had +resolved that no squeamish delicacy should keep her from preventing +Beatrix's playing the part of a prude. + +"He is the best-looking man of the season, and the best dancer. He took +honors at Goettingen. He has any quantity of money." Sally ticked off the +points on the tips of her gray glove. "And most of all," she tapped her +thumb conclusively, "he is very much in love with Miss Beatrix Dane, and +I want him to marry her." + +"Oh, Sally, do be sensible!" Beatrix burst out impatiently. Then she +pulled herself up sharply and turned to bay. "What about the Forbes +supper?" she demanded. + +Sally shrugged her shoulders, as she fastened her fur collar. + +"Oh, Beatrix, you prig! Are there any men of our set who haven't been a +little frisky?" + +"Frisky! That is a milder word than I should use, Sally. The Forbes +affair transcends friskiness and becomes the beginning of the pace that +kills. It was intolerable; I can't forgive it." + +Her face flushed; then it paled and hardened with the rigidity of +self-control. Sally peered out at her through lowered lashes, and judged +that it was time for her to remove herself. She had known Beatrix from +their childhood, and this was the first time she had seen her jarred +from her self-possession. She fastened the last hook with a jerk. Then +she rose and went to her friend's side. + +"I didn't mean to tease you, dear," she said penitently. "I know this +has been worrying you; but don't let it get on your nerves and influence +you too much. All men make slips at times. Mr. Lorimer is a good fellow, +even if he has been a little fast. He would drop all that as soon as he +was--settled. Besides, this isn't nearly as bad as ever so many of the +stories we hear." + +"No," Beatrix assented drearily; "but it is bad enough." + +"Then you do care?" + +"Care!" She laughed a little harshly. "Sally, truly I must send you off. +It is time I was dressing, for I promised to go. I am sorry, but--" + +"I am used to being dismissed; I shall come again." There was no hint of +rancor in Sally's tone, yet she went away fully convinced that her own +system of measurement could never reach the heights and the depths of +her friend's mood. + +Left to herself, Beatrix forgot her need for haste. She dropped down +into a chair, and sat for many moments brooding over the fire. Her hand +shielded her face; yet it could not conceal the anxious lines above her +eyes nor the drooping lips. Lorimer had asked permission to call upon +her, that evening, and she knew by instinct what the evening was holding +in store for her. Confronted with the final decision, she was at a loss +which course to take. Should she close her eyes to the plague-spot which +might one day spread and spread until it tainted her whole life? The +present was very tempting. Why not take it, and ignore the future? Most +girls would wink at the suspicion which, during the past week, had been +clouding her dream of perfect content. How far was she accountable for +the future? + +She dressed hurriedly; but when she reached Mrs. Stanley's house, the +recital had already begun, and she dropped into a seat outside the +music-room door. The artist was a new star upon the horizon. She had +supposed him to be only one of the vast milky way which helped to shed a +dim light upon Mrs. Stanley, as that good lady clambered slowly up the +social ladder. Instead of that, Beatrix entirely forgot Mrs. Stanley's +antics, in watching for the star itself. She even dismissed Lorimer from +her mind, as she bent forward in eager listening to the invisible +singer. + +"Great fellow, Schubert!" her cousin observed, sauntering up to her side +as soon as the recital was ended. "They say that this Thayer is daft +upon the subject of him. Anyway, he manages to interpret him fairly +well. What did you think?" + +She pulled herself out of her absorption and laughed. + +"Don't expect me to analyze him, Bobby. He is past that." + +"Bad or good?" + +"Good, if making havoc of my nerve centres is any test." + +"Then you really liked him? I thought you didn't want to come." + +"I didn't. Nothing but a stern sense of duty brought me; but it also +brought its own reward. One hears such a voice only once a decade." + +Bobby Dane eyed her askance. + +"Sure this is yourself, Beatrix? I thought you scoffed at all baritones, +and only delighted in maudlin tenors and anticking sopranos. I have +hopes of you yet; but whence comes your conversion?" + +"From this man, Mr. ----." She referred to the programme in her hand. + +"Thayer," her cousin prompted. "Cotton Mather Thayer." + +Beatrix gasped. + +"Bobby! What a name for an artist!" + +"For a punster, you'd better say; but at least one can't doubt its +genuineness. If he had been going to assume a stage name, he would have +chosen something more romantic." + +"Who is he, and where did Mrs. Stanley accumulate him?" + +Bobby rolled his eyes expressively towards the portly, satin-clad figure +of his hostess. + +"Mrs. Stanley hunts every lion that comes to Manhattan Island. As a +rule, she catches only cubs; this is the exception which proves the +rule." + +"I haven't heard the name before." + +"No; Thayer is a brand-new lion, but fully grown. Of course, with that +name, his family tree sprouted in Massachusetts; but he has been in +Germany and Italy for years. He only landed, the third, and is to make +his formal debut at the Lloyd Avalons's on the twentieth. Don't you want +to meet him?" + +"N--no. I am afraid it would be anticlimax." + +"Not a bit of it. He doesn't indulge in speckled neckties and an +imperial. He is a man, as well as a singer." + +"You know him, then?" + +"Yes, as one knows any number of people. Lorimer has had him at the club +occasionally, and I have met him there." + +"Mr. Lorimer?" + +"Lorimer knew him well in Germany. Come and help burn incense before +him, and do try to say something rational. Those fellows must get deadly +sick of the inanities people talk when they are being introduced. If you +make a good impression, perhaps I'll bring him around, some Monday." + +"Wait till you see what impression he makes, Bobby. I'm not Mrs. +Stanley, you know, and I'm not stalking any lions." + +Even while he laughed at the sudden hauteur of her tone, he allowed his +glance to wander over her with manifest approval. + +"Good for you, Beatrix! But Thayer is a gentleman first of all, then an +artist. A cad always shows himself at a strange club; but Thayer passed +muster at The Critic, where even Lorimer isn't altogether popular." + +"Why not?" she demanded sharply. + +"Difference in taste in jokes," her cousin replied evasively. "I only +spoke of it to show you that you were safe enough in knowing Thayer. +Lorimer is a good fellow; even good fellows have their foes." + +"But if Mr. Thayer hasn't--" + +"Thayer hasn't been here long enough to get them. Give him time, +Beatrix. Inside of six weeks, he will have every singer in New York +slandering him. There's nothing more lovable than the way musicians +stand by one another, when it's a case of fighting a successful rival." + +She laughed suddenly. + +"How do you know, Bobby? You're not a musician." + +"Heaven forfend! If I were, I should spend half my time on The Island, +doing sentence for battery and breach of the peace. I have known a few +musicians in my time, Beatrix, and I know their pleasant little ways." + +They had joined the large group gathered at the head of the music-room, +and were slowly working their way from the outer fringe to the focal +point. As they waited, now advancing a step, then halting again, Beatrix +listened in some scorn to the fugue of praise which rose about her, a +fugue composed chiefly of adjectives heaped in confusion about the +single, magical noun _temperament_. She shot a mischievous glance up at +her tall cousin. + +"Fancy any man having to live up to this sort of thing, Bobby! _Divine_ +and _perfectly elegant_ do not suggest the same set of attributes, and I +don't see how he can strike the golden mean between them. Somebody +really ought to coin a new word for such emergencies as this." + +Before her cousin could answer, the woman just ahead of them had buried +the singer's hand in her own pudgy clasp. + +"Oh, Mr. Thayer, that was such a pretty piece you sang last! It was a +German piece; wasn't it? It was just sweet!" + +And it was after such a prelude that Beatrix bowed in recognition of her +cousin's introduction. Even as she bowed, there came a swift realization +that she was facing no anticlimax. And yet the man before her was in no +wise the typical musician. Tall, so tall that Bobby Dane, five feet ten +in his stockings, seemed short beside him, well-dressed, well-groomed, +he looked far more like a prosperous, alert man of affairs than an +artist or a dreamer. Moreover, in spite of certain lines in his face, he +was absurdly boyish to have sung those great songs. He could know +nothing of the real issues of fate with which he had been juggling, +could have no real conception of either hope or disappointment. +Doubtless he had developed his _Weltschmerz_ mechanically, imitatively, +at so many marks or _lire_ an hour. + +Beatrix had always been distressed by the flatness of her one-syllabled +name. It gained a new roundness now; and she raised her eyes, as Thayer +spoke it, to meet the gray ones above her. They were clear and steady +eyes, smiling, yet with a look in their depths which to her mind +accounted for the insistent, troubled note in his singing. The lines +about his shaven lips were firm, but mobile. + +Bobby eyed the two of them quizzically. Then he broke in upon the +tentative conversation which follows an introduction. + +"Pass, Beatrix! That's quite original. I told my cousin, Thayer, that if +she could hail you with a new adjective, I should present you as a +candidate for a dish of tea, some Monday." + +As usually happened with Bobby Dane's remarks, this proved the end of +any serious talk, and Beatrix laughed, as she responded,-- + +"Please come alone, Mr. Thayer. My cousin monopolizes all the +conversation, when he is present." + +"And Miss Dane always demands a good listener. Like a conspirator, she +relies upon your silence, Thayer." + +"What a restful hostess!" Thayer answered lightly. Then, turning, he +laid a kindly hand on the arm of his accompanist. "Otto, I wish you to +meet Mr. Dane. Miss Dane, may I introduce my friend, Mr. Arlt?" + +It was done simply; but the boy blushed with sudden shyness before the +stately girl, whose fur collar alone had cost far more than his whole +year's expenses. Beatrix met him cordially, for she had seen him +standing ignored in his corner by the piano, and she liked the friendly +way in which the singer had included him in the trivial talk. It was not +until afterwards that she suddenly recalled the fact that she herself +and her cousin were apparently the only ones to whom Thayer had +introduced his companion. She pondered over the reason for this until, +as she slowly mounted the steps to her own door, she abruptly recurred +to the unanswered question which had been driven from her mind by the +afternoon's events. + +The old butler met her in the hall. + +"Mr. Lorimer has just telephoned to you, Miss Beatrix. He can't come, +to-night, he says. His horse stumbled and threw him just now, and his +ankle is sprained. It will be a few days before he can go out." + +And with utter thankfulness Beatrix accepted even this brief reprieve. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +"Cast your bread upon the waters, and it will come floating back to you +in time to be fed out to the next man." + +"Bad for the next man's digestion, though!" Bobby Dane commented, as he +set down his empty cup. "You needn't offer me any of your second-hand +pabulum, Beatrix." + +"You probably will be in such dire straits that I shall offer you the +first chance at it, Bobby," she retorted. + +"Another cup of tea, and two pieces of lemon, please," Sally demanded. +"What is the particular appositeness of your remarks, Beatrix?" + +"Mr. Arlt and Mrs. Stanley. Also the conservation of philanthropic +energy." + +Sally stirred her tea with a protesting clatter of the spoon. + +"Beatrix, I am glad I didn't go to college. Your mind is appalling; your +language is more so. May I ask whether you are going into slumming?" + +"No. Worse." + +"For the family credit, I must draw the line at the Salvation Army," +Bobby adjured her. "A poke bonnet and a tambourine wouldn't be a proper +fruitage for our family tree." + +"What are you going to do, Beatrix?" Sally repeated. "It is something +uncanny, I know. I felt it in the air, and that was the reason I stayed +until everybody else had gone. I knew you wished to confess." + +"But I didn't." + +"Not even to ease your conscience?" + +"My conscience is perfectly easy." + +"But you said it was worse than slumming." + +"It is. Slumming is aristocratic and conservative; I am about to be +radical." + +"Don't tell me it is spectacles and statistics," Bobby pleaded. "I abhor +statistical women; they are so absorbed in collating material that they +never listen to the point of even your best stories." + +"Not a statistic, I promise you, Bobby." + +"Nor a poke bonnet?" + +"No; my choice is for toques, not pokes. Do you know Mr. Arlt?" + +"Never heard of the gentleman." Bobby's tone expressed cheery +indifference, as he bent over to prod the fire. + +"But you met him, Bobby." + +"It was in a crowd, then, and it doesn't signify that I've heard of him. +Who is he, Sally?" + +With the freedom born of intimacy, Sally was eating up her lemon rind, +and there was a momentary pause, while she shook her head. Beatrix +answered the question. + +"He is Mr. Thayer's accompanist, that little German who was with him at +Mrs. Stanley's." + +"Have you heard Thayer yet, Sally?" Bobby asked parenthetically. + +"No. I have heard about him till I am weary of his name, though, and +such a name! Cotton Mather Thayer!" + +"Did it ever occur to you the handicap of going through life as Bobby?" +inquired the owner of that name. "It is a handicap; but it is also a +distinct advantage. Nobody ever expects me to amount to anything. No +matter how much I fizzle, they'll say 'Oh, but it's only Bobby Dane!' +Now, Cotton Mather Thayer is bound to fill a niche in the--the--" + +"Lofty cathedral of fame reared by the ages." Sally helped him out of +his rhetorical abyss. + +"Thanks awfully; yes. And then Beatrix will scatter her water-soaked +breadcrumbs around him to coax the little sparrows to make their nests +in the crown of his hat and get free music lessons for their young in +exchange for keeping his head warm." + +Beatrix frowned; then she laughed. Bobby was incorrigible, and there was +no use in expecting seriousness from him. He and Sally were alike; +Beatrix was cast in a different mould. She could suffer and enjoy with +an intensity unknown to either of the others; yet she was close kin to +her cousin in her appreciation of his irresponsible fun, even though it +would never have occurred to her to originate it. Moreover, even if it +had occurred to her, it is doubtful whether she could have accomplished +it. + +"Who gets first bite at your bread, Beatrix?" Bobby asked encouragingly. +"Granted that Arlt, whoever he is, gets second nibble, who comes in +ahead?" + +"Mrs. Stanley." In spite of herself, Beatrix laughed at the logical +application of her metaphor. Stout, energetic Mrs. Stanley was so like a +greedy young turkey snapping up the crumbs dropped from the hands of her +superiors. + +Sally raised her brows. + +"Knowing Mrs. Stanley's appetite, I only wonder that any of the loaves +and fishes should be left over," she drawled maliciously. + +"Mrs. Stanley has her good points, Sally." + +Bobby interrupted. + +"Not a point. She is all built in parabolic curves. Why can't you be +accurate, Beatrix, as befits your higher education? You took conic +sections a year before I did." + +"All the more reason I should forget them sooner. Besides, haven't I +begged you not to allude to the fact that I am a year older than you?" + +"But is Mr. Thayer as great a singer as they say?" Sally asked, with +sudden irrelevancy. + +"Greater. He is almost perfectly satisfactory." + +"Not quite?" + +"Not yet; he will be, some day, if he can only have an unhappy love +affair," Beatrix answered placidly, as she rose from the tea table and +crossed to the open fire. + +"That is an humane speech." + +"Artistic, though. He needs just that to develop him. He strikes every +note but tenderness." + +"Tenderness is generally located at _C in Alt_, Beatrix. A baritone +can't soar to that height; you should be content when he growls defiance +and moans resignation." + +"Besides," Sally suggested; "it is quite within the limits of +possibility that Mr. Thayer might have a happy love affair. Would that +answer your purpose, Beatrix?" + +"Not in the least. It is his minor key that needs developing." + +"Never mind," Bobby added. "Artists are scheduled for the unhappy loves. +Therein lies the advantage of being merely a newspaper man." + +Sally looked up inquiringly. + +"Just what is it that you do, Bobby? I know you have a desk and a +salary; but I've never been able to find out that you did anything but +put your heels on one and your fingers on the other." + +"That's because you aren't there to see." + +"No; but I have heard. Do you ever work, really work?" + +"Of course I work. I earn the jam to eat on my daily bread. I boxed the +devil's ears, this morning." + +"Luther _redivivus_! You and Beatrix will soon be great moral forces in +the metropolis. Beatrix, is he really presentable?" + +"Bobby, or the devil?" + +"Neither. Mr. Th--" + +"Mr. Thayer," the old butler announced imperturbably, and the subject of +discussion came slowly across the great dusky room towards the circle +of light around the table. + +Even while she was suppressing her gasp of sheer embarrassment, Sally +admitted to herself that he was presentable, very presentable. His +manner was altogether free from the self-conscious graciousness of an +artist off-duty; moreover, he was very big, very comely, very much +stamped with the hall-mark of her own class. His eyes were steady; his +shoulders were broad, but his hands were slim. As for Sally Van Osdel, +she had one attribute of a great general; she knew how to beat a +dignified retreat from an awkward situation, and she it was who broke in +upon the little pause which followed the introductions. + +"Your entrance was most dramatic, Mr. Thayer, for your name was just +trembling upon our lips. Miss Dane has been asking us if we knew your +accompanist, Mr. Arlt." + +He turned to Beatrix. + +"Otto? What about him, Miss Dane?" + +"Only good. Miss Gannion was speaking to me about him, last night." + +"You know Miss Gannion?" + +"Who doesn't?" + +He laughed silently from between his close-shut teeth. + +"That can be interpreted in two senses." + +"Not if you know Miss Gannion. She is of the salt of the earth." + +"I am glad to hear you say so. She is the one person in the city to whom +I brought an introduction. She was out when I called, so I am still a +good deal at sea in regard to her." + +A direct question would have been unpardonable; but Beatrix could see no +offence in the note of interrogation in his voice. + +"She is a dear little spinster of fifty, with endless interests and not +a hobby to her name, the most downright, practical person I have ever +known, and the most helpful to strangers and pilgrims in the city. It is +quite incidental that she is uncommonly rich and uncommonly homely. +Nobody ever stops to think about either fact." + +"And she has heard of Arlt?" + +"Yes, she hears of everybody. She has a great talent for putting young +men on their feet and teaching them to walk alone. In fact, she is a +perfect employment bureau for meritorious youth. Somebody wrote to her +that Mr. Arlt has genius and grit, and not a guinea to his name, and she +is trying to get him some engagements." + +"She asked you to help him?" + +"Yes. At least, she spoke about him, and asked me to keep my eyes open +and to say a good word for him, when I can. What does he want, Mr. +Thayer?" + +"Whatever he can get." + +"What does he need, then?" + +"Everything." Thayer's tone was grave. + +"At least, that is comprehensive, Beatrix," her cousin assured her. "He +may even be starved into eating your chloride of manna." + +She ignored the interruption. + +"And you have known him for some time, Mr. Thayer?" + +"Long enough to have no hesitation in vouching for him, both as a man +and as an artist." His tone was not unfriendly, yet it was of dignified +finality. + +"Then why the deuce hasn't the fellow arrived?" Bobby rose, as he spoke, +and planted his feet accurately on the middle pothook of the hearthrug. + +"Chiefly because art is long, and we are all too busy to wait for it to +display itself. Give him time," Sally suggested idly, for she was +becoming a little bored by the discussion. + +"Time is money, though. Perhaps a pension would do just as well." + +Thayer frowned involuntarily. To him, his art was too sacred to admit +of any flippancy in discussing it. He turned still more directly to +Beatrix. + +"Arlt is a thoroughly good fellow, one you are safe in introducing +anywhere. He is only a boy, barely twenty; but he is one of the most +satisfactory pianists I have ever heard. I don't mean I haven't heard +better ones; but never one who has been more satisfying to my mood, +whatever it is. His technique is not perfect, and he lacks maturity; but +he has a trick of making people dissatisfied with other pianists and +anxious to hear him play the same programme." + +"And he will accompany?" + +"Ye-es. Sometimes." + +Beatrix laughed. + +"I spare your modesty, Mr. Thayer. I think I understand. But really I +haven't much influence. If I can help him, though, you can count on my +doing it." + +"All he needs is a little start. As Miss Van Osdel says, New York is +moving too fast to wait for strangers to fall into step with the +procession." + +"He is a stranger, then?" + +"He came over with me." Thayer hesitated. "I may as well tell you a bit +about him," he went on. "It can't do any harm, and it may supplement +Miss Gannion's story. He is that unhappy being, the youngest son of a +younger son, and he has more ancestors than money. His father ran away +to escape army service, and forgot to provide for his wife and children. +The children died, all but two, Otto and a sister eight years older. He +was half through his musical training, when she had a fall that crippled +her, and the boy had to give up study and take to teaching. For two +years, he fought a losing fight, giving lessons to stolid youngsters, +playing at cheap concerts wherever he could get an engagement, and all +the time slowly dropping deeper and deeper into debt. One night, he +fainted in the middle of the accompaniment to _The Erl-King_, and it +looked as if the King had claimed him. There were a couple of Americans +in the hall who had been watching him for weeks, and they began to +investigate the case. Arlt, it seems, hadn't eaten anything for two +days; and, just as he had started for the concert, he had received legal +notice that the next day his mother and sister would be turned into the +street, because the rent was unpaid." + +"And then?" Sally queried, as Thayer came to a full stop. + +"Then they took him out to supper," he replied prosaically. + +"And then?" Sally persisted. + +Thayer spoke with some reluctance. + +"Then they found him an engagement that paid a better salary, and they +bullied him into accepting a little loan, until the first week's payday +came around." + +"That was so good of you!" Beatrix said impulsively. + +He raised his brows. + +"I wasn't the only American in Berlin at the time, Miss Dane." + +"No; you said there were two of you. But there is no use in your denying +that you were the one who sang _The Erl-King_." + +"Circumstantial evidence convicts you, Thayer," Bobby said, coming to +the support of his cousin. "You sang; you also fed him. Likewise, you +brought him to America. Then wherefore deny?" + +"There's no reason I should deny. I like Arlt, and for weeks I had been +trying to get him as accompanist, so I gained by the affair. The other +fellow didn't, though. He was no musician; but the case interested him. +He not only backed Arlt financially, but he hunted up the mother and +sister and did no end of nice things for them, the things that count: +rolling chairs and extract of beef and all that stuff. He had nothing +to make by the transaction." + +"Were they properly grateful?" Bobby inquired. + +"Yes, to the point of enthusiasm. The mother insisted upon doing his +mending all the next winter, and the sister embroidered him a pair of +huge antimacassars and a smoking-cap. It sounds funny; but it was grim, +earnest tragedy mixed with pathos. He did it all with such tact that the +poor creatures never half realized how for a fact they never came into +the middle of his life at all. Arlt realizes it, though. That is one of +the most pathetic phases of the whole situation. By the way, Dane, you +know the fellow, I think." + +"I wish I did." Beatrix spoke impetuously. "Plenty of people will give +generously, but not many of them are willing to give humanely." + +Thayer smiled. + +"Old Frau Arlt used to call him her _Lieber Sohn_, and fuss over him as +if he were in dire need of her motherly care. He took it just as it was +given. The two women lived too quietly to have heard of him. Otto never +told them the truth; but outside the house his deference made up for +the familiarity at home. It has been a pretty story to watch, and it has +meant a comfortable life for two half-starved women." + +"Who was the man?" Bobby asked idly. + +"Lorimer. Sidney Lorimer." + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +Of course, as Bobby Dane had said, with such a name, Thayer's family +tree had sprouted in Massachusetts. His Puritanism was hereditary and +strong; it tempered the artistic side of his nature, but it could not +destroy it. In the musical sense of the word, Cotton Mather Thayer +possessed Temperament; but his Temperament was the battle-field where +two warring temperaments were at constant strife. + +In the year of grace sixteen hundred and thirty-five, Richard Thayer, +freeman, landed in America. From Plymouth Rock, he strode straight +towards a position of colonial fame. His children and his children's +children kept up the family tradition and name until one of them, of a +more theological bent than his cousins had been, annulled the custom of +his ancestors and named his oldest son for the grim divine, Cotton +Mather Thayer, and during the next one hundred and fifty years, Cotton +Mathers and Richards had flourished side by side among the Thayers of +eastern Massachusetts. They were strong men, one and all, quiet and +self-contained in years of peace, grim fighters in seasons of war, and +prominent citizens at all times, a godly, gritty, and prosperous race. +Of such is the greatness of New England. + +Their records, like the records of all good things, were slightly +monotonous. They were born into orderly nurseries; they were graduated +from the vicissitudes of teething and mumps into orderly, peaceful +adolescence. They invariably married the most suitable damsel of their +own class, and they passed from an orderly old age through an orderly +churchyard into a heaven which the imagination of their surviving kin +peopled with orderly ranks of angels, playing gilt harps in perfect +accord. Their artistic ideals were bounded by _Coronation_ and the +pictures in _The New England Primer_ and _Godey_. Blackberry shrub, to +their minds, was the medium of riotous dissipation. + +Under such fostering conditions, ancestral traits strengthened from +generation to generation, until the race of Puritan Thayers culminated +in one Cotton Mather who was born in the early decades of the last +century, a grim deacon, a shrewd lawyer, and the owner of two or three +ships which sailed from his own seaport town. Shrewd as he was, however, +his logic failed him at one point. When his first child, Cotton Mather +Thayer, was a tiny boy, the youngster was allowed and even invited to +toddle about the wharves, clinging to the paternal thumb. On the other +hand, when the boy Cotton was fourteen, he received a round dozen of +canings for lounging about among the shipping. The thirteenth caning was +one too many. It was more severe than the others, and it cracked the +long-strained situation. The caning occurred in his father's office, +after hours, one June night. The _Thankful_ was booked to sail, the next +morning at eight. When, at eight-ten, it slipped down the harbor, it +bore away as cabin-boy and general drudge the stiff and sore, but +unrepentant sinner, Cotton Mather Thayer, age fourteen. + +His later adventures have little concern with the story of his son's +life. He sailed over many seas, he visited many lands, mellowing by +contact with many peoples the unyielding temper of his race. The +possibility of failure never once entered into his mind. The Thayers +always had succeeded, for they always had worked. In consequence, he +took it quite as a matter of course that, at twenty-three, he should be +commander of the _Presidenta_, stationed in the Baltic for a year of +chilly inaction. St. Petersburg was near, and St. Petersburg, as the +young commander found, held for him the focal point of the world, in the +person of the pretty daughter of one of the court musicians. Twelve +years later, while the _Presidenta_ was stationed in the Mediterranean, +its young captain died, leaving behind him in Russia a fragile wife and +a little son who had inherited the name and character of the Thayers, +curiously mingled with the artistic, emotional temperament and the rare +musical ability of his mother's race. + +It was no common combination. Russian art and Puritan morals are equally +grim; yet the one yields to every passing emotion, the other is girded +up by unyielding strength. Throughout his little boyhood, the child's +nature seemed borne hither and thither by these two counter currents in +his blood, now passing days of quiet, sturdy self-control, now swept by +black gusts of passion which carried all things before them. Then, four +years after his father's death, there came two events into his life: his +mother's death, and the discovery that he had a voice. The one taught +him the meaning of utter, absolute loneliness, for the alien blood of +the Thayers had never been able to win many friends in the land of his +mother's kin. The other proved to be at once a rudder to guide him over +the uncharted future of his life, and an outlet for the pent-up passion +within him. His voice was totally untrained, and as yet it broke into +all manner of distressing falsetto fragments. Nevertheless, it gave him +a cause for living, and it enabled him, the descendant of a taciturn +race, to give utterance to the doubts and questionings which accompanied +his growth to manhood. Bereft of his mother and without his voice, he +might easily have become an ascetic or a criminal. + +To a boy of sixteen, trained to a life of strict economy, his slight +income from his father's investments seemed enough for his needs, and he +felt a boyish disgust when, one day, word came to him that his +grandfather had died, leaving him the only heir to the large property +laid up by eight generations of Thayers. His grandfather had refused to +become reconciled to his son; then why should he assume post-mortem +friendship with his son's son? However, by the time he was launched into +German student-life, dividing his time fitfully between his university +and his music, young Cotton Mather was forced to admit that an ancestral +fortune was no despicable addition to the stock in trade of a man +starting in life. He only needed to watch the grinding existences of +some of his comrades to realize the value of money in shaping a broad +artistic career. Instead of wasting his gray matter over details of ways +and means, he could let that side of life take care of itself, while he +gave his whole attention to developing the best that was in his mind and +his voice. + +Of course, he was extravagant; of course, he learned, among other +things, some of the blacker lessons of the student world. However, the +Puritanism of his ancestors stood him in good stead. It enabled him to +come into close contact with the seamy side of life; but it decreed that +the friction should never leave a sore spot behind it. It only hardened +the fibre. When he ended his studies, he knew the world at its best and +at its worst, but with this distinction: the best was an integral part +of his life; the worst was an alien, a foe to be recognized and downed, +however often it should face him. + +From Goettingen, where he had met Lorimer casually, Thayer went to Berlin +to devote his time entirely to music. Lorimer joined him there, more +because he had nothing to call him back to America than because he had +anything to call him to Berlin. During the next winter, the two men, as +unlike as men could be, had shared a bachelor apartment, the one working +industriously, the other playing just as industriously. It was during +this winter that Lorimer had come into contact with the Arlts. It was +during this winter also that Thayer finally decided to give up his other +plans and make his profession centre in his voice. He had battled +against the idea with the fervor of a race to whom "the stage" offered +no distinction between vaudeville and grand opera, but inclined to the +characteristics of the one and the scope of the other. For years, he had +fought against the temptation; he yielded, one night, during the second +act of _Faust_, and, in after time, he could always identify the chord +which had punctuated his decision. Three hours later, he was studying +that fraction of Baedeker which concerns itself with Italy. + +He was in Italy for two years. Then he went back to Berlin for another +year of grinding work, of passing discouragements, and of ultimate +success. There had been many and many a day when his pluck had failed +him, when he had questioned whether his voice was really good, whether, +after all, it were possible to make an artist out of gritty Puritan +stock; whether, in fact, he was not a thing of fibre, rather than a man +of temperament. His progress was great; but his ideals kept pace with +it. + +It was one dazzling June morning when he took his final lesson. He had +gone onward and upward until, for months, he had been in the hands of +the _maestro_ universally acknowledged to be the dean of his art. The +_maestro_ was an old man and chary of his words; yet even he was stirred +to enthusiasm. + +"My son, it is time for you to go," he said, as he rose from the piano +and took Thayer's hands into his own fragile, elderly fingers. "I can +teach you nothing more. It is now for you to work out your own +reputation. Not much more of life is left in me; but, before it is +ended, I shall hear your name spoken, both often and with praise. While +I live, my house will hold a welcome to you. _Auf wiedersehen!_" + +As Thayer went out into the sunshine, the glitter and the brightness of +it all, of the day and of the future, dazzled him and made him afraid. +Then of a sudden the blood of the Thayers, in abeyance during those mad, +sad, glad years of study and of striving, asserted itself again. Obeying +its behest, he turned abruptly from the street where he was seeking the +impresario to whom his master had sent him. In that instant, he turned +his back for many a long month upon opera and upon all that followed in +its train. + +One clean, cold night in mid-February, Thayer came down the steps of his +club, where he had been dining with Bobby Dane. At the foot of the steps +he halted long enough to button his coat to the chin and pull his hat +over his eyes, preparatory to facing the cutting wind. Then, turning +southward, he went striding away down the Avenue with the vigorous, +alert tread of the well-fed, contented man. It was still early, so early +that the pavements were dotted with theatre-going groups. He strode +through and beyond them, along the lower end of the Avenue, and came +under the arch, standing in chill, austere dignity at the edge of the +wind-swept square. Over its fretted surface the electric lights shone +coldly, and the deserted benches beyond brought to Thayer, fresh from +the glow and good-fellowship of the club, a sudden depressing sense of +his own aloofness from his kind. The club and Bobby were incidental +points of contact, pleasant, but not permanent. Like the arch, he was +alone, outside the rushing life of the busy town, something to be +watched and commented upon, but never destined to be really in the heart +of things. Bobby was a part of it, and Bobby had held out to him a +welcoming hand. He had taken the hand, and had dropped it again. It was +of no use. He did not belong. The sensation was not a new one to him. +He had met it before and in many places. It came to him suddenly and +unbidden, and it lay, a chilly weight, over all his consciousness. It +always left him wondering whether he would ever become fully adjusted to +his environment, whether it would ever be possible for him to come into +perfect contact with his fellow-men. + +As if the depression had brought with it a physical chill, he shook his +broad shoulders and plunged his hands into the side pockets of his +overcoat. Then, facing westward, he went on for a block or two and +stopped at the door of a shabby boarding-house. + +"Mr. Arlt?" he said to the maid, in brief interrogation. + +She nodded and stood aside to let him pass. Thayer's tread on the dim +stairway showed his familiarity with the place, as did the prompt +calling of his name which answered his knock. + +Without laying down his pipe, Arlt rose to greet his guest. + +"You were so late that I was afraid you were not coming." + +Thayer took off his fur-lined coat and tossed it into a chair. + +"Haven't you learned that I always get around?" he asked. "I was dining +with a friend, and we took things lazily." + +"And now you expect to sing?" Arlt's accent was rebuking. + +"Yes. I walked down here to get myself into condition. How is it? Are +you feeling nervous over the prospect?" + +Arlt had seated himself at the grand piano which completely filled one +end of the dreary room. Now he drew a protesting arpeggio from the black +keys and shook his head. + +"Oh, that is a terrible woman, that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons! She was here +again, to-day, to tell me about the programme. What does she know of +music? She refuses the Haydn Variations and demands a Liszt Rhapsodie. +If you are not firm with her, she will end by making you sing _The Holy +City_ with a flute obligato." + +Thayer laughed unfeelingly. + +"She is a Vandal, Arlt; but the world will be at her musicale, they tell +me; and you will find it a good place to make your bow to an American +public. Mrs. Dana told me, over in Berlin, that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons gave +the best private recitals in New York." + +"What does she know about music?" Arlt grumbled. + +"Nothing, apparently; but the new-rich must have some sort of a fad, if +they are to make themselves count for anything, and people will go to +hear good music, even when they know it is a mere social bribe. Hofman +could fill a Bowery dance-hall with the elect; you only have to lead +them to the latest architectural vagary on Fifth Avenue. They are bound +to be there, for, even while they scoff, they like to keep an eye on +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons for fear she may prove to be worth knowing after they +have snubbed her; so play your best. It may lead to other engagements to +come." + +"And the Liszt Rhapsodie?" he asked mournfully. + +"Bad, I admit." + +"It is detestable. The Rhapsodies are the forlorn hope of artists who +have failed on Beethoven." + +"Not so bad as that. Still, there's a way of escape. Announce to your +audience that, by request, you are changing the number from Liszt to +Haydn. I do request it most earnestly." + +The boy looked up in admiring relief. + +"How is it that such ideas come to you, Mr. Thayer?" + +"My Yankee blood, Arlt. Now shall we run over my songs?" + +It was characteristic of Thayer that, in consenting to make his American +debut at the recital of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, he had insisted upon the +condition that he should choose his own assisting artist. How Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons had heard of him in the first place was a mystery which he had +made no effort to solve. From the testimony of several members of the +American colony in Berlin, it appeared that all New York and half of +Boston had heard of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, who, for three or four seasons +past, had been using her really choice musicales as a species of knocker +upon the portal of New York society. By this time, she had passed the +portal and was disporting herself in the vestibule, with one toe resting +upon the sacred threshold. Socially, she was as yet impossible; but her +recitals had won the reputation of being among the choicest tidbits of +the season's musical feast, for she made up in money what she lacked in +artistic sense, and, thanks to her agent, she had been able to discover +certain new stars before they rose above the horizon. For this reason it +was a distinct honor, Thayer was told, to be bidden to sing for Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons, and therefore Thayer had promptly made up his mind that +Arlt also should have a hearing upon this occasion. The boy already had +decided to come to America. Thayer realized with regret how cold a +welcome the country of his own ancestors was accustomed to extend to +struggling young musicians. Arlt had genius; but he lacked both +influence and initiative. The fight would be a long one, and Arlt's +conquest would be at the expense of many a wound. Teutons are not +necessarily pachyderms, and Arlt was sensitive to a rare degree. + +As Arlt's fingers dropped from the keys at the close of _Valentine's_ +song of farewell, Thayer laughed suddenly. + +"It is rather contrary to custom to be accompanied by the star of the +evening, Arlt. I suppose I ought to have hunted up somebody else; but +these other fellows make frightful work of my accompaniments. They hurry +till they get me out of breath, and then they take advantage of the +moment to drown me out. I'd like a baton, only I should beat the +accompanist with it, before I was half through a programme." + +The boy's color came. + +"When another man accompanies you, I shall be dead, or incapable," he +returned briefly. "I do not forget." + +"Nor I. But do you also remember the last time we did this in Germany?" + +"At my home? To Katarina?" + +Thayer nodded. + +"It is my song, you know. I am superstitious about it." + +"Mr. Lorimer was there, that night." + +"Oh, that reminds me, Arlt, I heard, to-night, that Lorimer was +engaged." + +"Mr. Lorimer?" + +"Yes, to a Miss Dane. It is only just announced, to-day. I was dining +with her cousin and he told me." + +"She must be good. I hope she is also strong of character," the boy +said, with a curiously deliberate accent which seemed characteristic of +him. "He is a good man and a kind one; but he needs a steadying hand. I +shall write to the mother and Katarina." + +"Will they like the news?" + +"Why not? Mr. Lorimer is their friend, and they will be glad of any +happiness which shall come to him. To the mother, he is like a son, for +she is simple-hearted and knows nothing of the world. To Katarina, he is +like a god." + +"But gods don't usually marry," Thayer suggested whimsically, as he took +up his coat. + +However, Arlt was ready for him. + +"Zeus did, and Homer tells us how he quarrelled with his wife.'" + +"Lorimer never will quarrel; he is too easy-going. By the way, you met +Miss Dane at the Stanley recital. Do you remember her?" + +Arlt's lips straightened thoughtfully. + +"A tall lady in brown furs, who knew how to praise without making a fool +of herself?" he queried. + +"That is the one. I should judge that Lorimer has been making a +systematic campaign ever since he met her, three months ago, and that, +after all, it came suddenly in the end. Dane was noncommittal; but I +think he doesn't like Lorimer any too well. Good-night, Arlt. We'll +rehearse again, Wednesday morning; meanwhile, stick to your Haydn." And +Thayer went away, out into the cold, crisp air, which greeted him now +with all its tonic force. + +Arlt's simple, boyish loyalty and lack of self-analysis always put him +into good-humor. It was as infectious as the jovial temper of Bobby +Dane, Thayer reflected enviously, with a sudden memory of the idle talk +over their dinner. Strange what had put him on his nerves afterwards! +Then his thoughts flew to Lorimer, and he wondered how his old chum +would bear the harness of domestic living. Perhaps it was just as well +that no idea crossed his mind of how far his story told to Beatrix Dane, +the Monday before, had had a share in shaping the decision which was to +change the whole character of her life. + +The question of one's accountability for others is rarely an edifying +subject of meditation. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +"It isn't so easy to say airy nothings to an artist, when you know him +behind the scenes," Beatrix said, suddenly shifting the talk back to the +point of departure. + +"Talk philosophy, then," Bobby returned. + +"But I must say something to him, after he gets through singing; and now +that I have seen him, three or four times, I can't launch into a sea of +platitudes." + +"I thought women could always go to sea in a platitude. It is as leaky +as a sieve, and not half so likely to upset and leave one floating +without any support at all." + +Sally laughed outright. + +"Beware of Bobby, when he turns metaphorical! He suggests a second-hand +curio shop." + +Lorimer glanced up at her, with a whimsical smile twisting his lips. + +"Your own rhetoric isn't above reproach, Miss Van Osdel. But has it ever +occurred to you that Young America has abandoned its sieve for a man of +war? I met a callow junior from Harvard, the other day, and by way of +making polite conversation, I asked him to suggest a clever subject for +a debate. He promptly told me that at his eating club they had been +discussing the origins of morality." + +Bobby whistled, to the huge delight of the butler. That factotum +revelled in the pranks of "Master Bobby" who had upset his dignity at +least once a week for the past fifteen years. + +"In our time we took our pleasures less sadly, Lorimer. What are we all +coming to?" + +"To congenital senility." + +"That is nothing more nor less than the frugal trick of making both ends +meet," Sally interpolated. + +"But what shall I say to Mr. Thayer?" Beatrix reiterated. + +"That it is a pleasant evening." + +"That you hope he isn't very tired with singing so much," Bobby and +Sally suggested in the same breath. + +Beatrix made a little gesture of scorn. + +"It is your turn, Mr. Lorimer. You know him better than the rest of us. +What shall you say to him?" + +"I know him so well that I rarely talk to him about his singing," +Lorimer replied, with sudden gravity. "Thayer is too large a man to +smack his lips over sugar-plums. He knows exactly what I think of his +voice, that it is one of the best baritone voices I have ever heard. He +also knows that I am perfectly aware of the fact when he sings unusually +badly or unusually well. Under those conditions, there is no especial +need of our discussing the matter. One can have reservations with one's +friends, you know." As he spoke, his eyes met those of Beatrix, and a +smile lighted his gravity. + +At a first glance, Sidney Lorimer produced the impression of being a +remarkably handsome man. The second glance, while it strengthened the +impression, nevertheless set one wondering what had created it. His +figure, his features, his coloring were all good, yet they were in no +way remarkable. A wiry, nervous, clean-cut man, with brown hair and +eyes, a slim, straight nose, and a well-set head, he would have +commanded little attention had it not been for the nameless stamp set +upon him by his training at an English public-school. It is impossible +to analyze this stamp, yet it exists and insists upon recognition. +Political life had called the elder Lorimer to England, and he had +judged it better to take his only child with him and drop him into Eton +than to leave him in America and send him to St. Paul's. He did it as a +matter of convenience, not of theory; but when his boy was ready for a +Yale diploma, the father confessed to himself that he was pleased with +the result of the experiment. Young Lorimer would never be an important +factor in the world's development; but he was an uncommonly attractive +fellow, and could hold his own in any position where chance would be +likely to place him. Only his lower lip betrayed the fact that his +mother had been a woman of uncurbed nerves. + +It was the evening of the twentieth, and Lorimer was distinctly nervous. +He liked Arlt and was anxious for his success; but his anxiety for Arlt +was as nothing in comparison with that which he felt for Thayer, to whom +he gave the adoration that a weak man sometimes offers to one +immeasurably his superior. Probably Lorimer's whole life would contain +no better year than the one he had spent with Thayer in Berlin. Thayer's +influence was strongly good, and Lorimer was of plastic material. It is +doubtful whether Lorimer realized this influence; yet he was genuinely +delighted to have Thayer within easy reach once more, genuinely wishful +to have Thayer's American debut such an unqualified success that +hereafter he would regard New York as his professional home. + +Lorimer rarely was garrulous; he was unusually silent during the long +drive to the Lloyd Avalons's. It was his first introduction to the +pseudo-fashionable world, for his own family had been of conservative +stock, and Beatrix and Bobby had been the first of the Danes to break +down the barriers of their own exclusive set. To be sure, he realized +that in a city like New York it was quite possible for circles of equal +choiceness to exist tangent to each other, yet in mutual ignorance of +one another; but his years abroad in slower-moving countries had not +prepared him for the countless agile performers clambering up and down +over the social trapeze. In his father's day, society had stood on an +elevated platform and watched the performers as they played leap-frog on +the ground. The performers had been as agile then as now; but their +agility had been free from any danger of a tumble. Between the ground +and the platform, there is no place of permanent rest. One must keep +moving, or else be pushed to the ground. + +As a rule, people forgot that there was a Mr. Lloyd Avalons. He was a +little man with an imperial, and a total incapacity for telling the +truth. In that, he was inferior to his wife in point of social +evolution, for she had learned, from certain episodes which still filled +her with mortification, that fibbing was bad form. To Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons, her husband was a mere cipher. Placed before her, he added +nothing to her value; placed after and in the background, he multiplied +her importance tenfold. There were certain privileges accruing to a +woman with a husband, certain immunities that followed in the train of +matrimony. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons was quite willing to include the word +_obey_ in the marriage service; she had a distinct choice in regard to +whom it should refer. + +To-night, Lloyd Avalons stood slightly in the rear of the elbow of his +wife who, resplendent in pale gray velvet and emeralds, was welcoming +her guests on the threshold of the music-room. Her gray eyes were +shining with a greenish light that matched the emeralds, for her lips +were set in a conventional smile, and there must be some escape for her +delight, as she counted over the tale of guests and recognized +individuals of many a named species from the garden of society. All in +all, this was the best success she had as yet attained. + +She greeted Beatrix effusively, and cast a coy glance at Lorimer while +she murmured a few words of congratulation. Then she fell a victim to +one of Bobby's quibbles, and while she was struggling to see the point +of his joke, the others made their escape. + +"At least, the architect knew what he was about," Lorimer remarked to +Beatrix, as they took their seats. "Thayer can't complain of the +acoustic effects of the place." + +"When have you seen him?" + +"Just before dinner. He was in superb voice then, and a fairly good +mood." + +"Isn't he always?" she questioned idly, as she nodded to an acquaintance +in the next row of chairs. + +"Not always. As a rule, he is the best-tempered fellow in the world. +Once in a while, though, he wraps himself up in his dignity and stalks +about like an Indian brave in his best Navajo blanket. Nobody ever knows +what is the reason, nor when he will go off into a Mood. It makes him an +uncertain quantity. For my part, I would rather a man would swear and +get it over with." Lorimer spoke easily. Unlike Thayer, he never +collided with the angles of his own temperament. + +"What does it do to his singing?" + +"Depends on one's taste. I like it, myself, as I like a high-flavored +cheese. People who pin their faith to Mendelssohn might be a little +over-powered. Fact is, there is a strange streak in Thayer's make-up. I +can't account for him at all." + +"What is the use of trying? Aren't one's friends immune from analysis?" + +"I don't care to try. I don't want to account for him; he is too large +for that. I wish you might know him; but you never will. He's not a +woman's man in the least." + +Beatrix was silent for a moment. Involuntarily she was making a swift +comparison of the way in which the two men spoke of each other. +Lorimer's praise had been full of half-suppressed reservations. Thayer +had made no reservations, he had scarcely uttered a word of praise, yet +his hastily-drawn picture of Lorimer's connection with the Arlts had +proved a determining factor in her life. It had been a new phase of +Lorimer's character which Thayer had presented. It had revealed him in a +new light and one infinitely more likable than any she had yet known. +The Lorimer she had met, had been fascinating and a bit snobbish. The +friend of the Arlts was altogether lovable. It takes greater tact and +staying power to make friends outside one's social grade than in it. +People suspect the motives of those who are crossing the boundaries +between caste and caste; yet the Arlts had trusted Lorimer completely. + +Beatrix had remained thoughtful for some time after Thayer's departure. +Lorimer had called, that same night. His coming had been unexpected; it +had taken Beatrix off her guard. She had been unfeignedly glad to see +him, for his ten-days' absence from her life had been unprecedented in +their acquaintance. The world is wide, yet, owing to some strange law of +attraction, one invariably seems to meet the same people everywhere. +Beatrix had greeted Lorimer more eagerly than she had been aware. She +had tried in vain to keep the fact of the Forbes supper uppermost in her +mind. Instead, it slid into the background, and its place had been taken +by the thought of Lorimer's probable feelings when he received the +smoking cap from the hands of Katarina Arlt. And the evening had hurried +away from her. When it had gone, she had realized with a sudden shock +that her girlhood was ended. She was the plighted bride of Sidney +Lorimer, and, distrustful of her own mental grasp of the fact, she had +ruthlessly waked up her mother to tell her what had occurred. Later, +she had not understood the motive which had led her to her mother's +room. As a rule, she was self-reliant, and adjusted herself to a crisis +without caring to talk it over. For the once, however, she felt the need +of being strengthened by the enthusiastic delight of Mrs. Dane whose +sentimental hopes had centered in Lorimer from the hour of his +introduction to her only child. + +All this had passed in review through Beatrix's mind, and it seemed long +to her since Lorimer's last words, when he said,-- + +"Don't think I am depreciating Thayer, Beatrix. He is one of the finest +fellows who ever came out of the Creator's hands. In his worst moods, he +is away ahead of most of the men one meets. Some day, I hope you may +know him for what he really is." + +There was true generosity underlying Lorimer's frank words. He was still +smarting from his contact with Thayer, that afternoon, for Thayer had +heard of a dinner at the club, on the previous night, and had spoken a +quiet warning. It was only such a warning as he had given, a dozen times +before; he knew just how Lorimer would resent it, then accept it, and it +would have made no difference to him, could he have foreseen that, in +his resentment, Lorimer's words to Beatrix would be slightly tinged with +aloes. It is not certain that, foreseeing, he would have cared. Beatrix +was nothing to him; of Lorimer he was strangely fond. + +Beatrix had felt some curiosity as to the effect Thayer's voice might +have upon her. Familiarity in all truth does breed contempt, and a +second hearing often proves a disappointment. For Lorimer's sake, she +was anxious to enjoy the recital, and she drew a quick, nervous breath +as Thayer, followed by Arlt, came striding out across the little stage +with the same unconscious ease with which he had crossed her parlor, the +week before. As he waited for Arlt to seat himself, he glanced about the +room, his practised eye measuring its size and the probable nature of +his audience. For an instant, his glance rested upon Beatrix and +Lorimer, and he gave a slight smile of recognition. Then his shoulders +straightened and he came to attention, as Arlt struck the opening chord +of his accompaniment. + +He had chosen to begin his programme, that night, with the _Infelice_ +for, in spite of its Verdiism, it had been a favorite of his old master +in Berlin. Before he had sung a dozen notes, Beatrix, bending forward, +was listening with parted lips and flushing cheeks. Of Thayer as a man +who had dallied with one of her cups of tea, she took no account; but +his voice, sweet and flexible, was tugging at her nerves and setting +them vibrating with its note of passionate sadness. Then, gathering +power and intensity, it swept its hearers along upon its furious +tempest; yet, as she listened, Beatrix felt herself inspired for, +underneath it all, there was the same throbbing, insistent note which +seemed to assure her that the singer had hoped and lost and fought and +conquered, that he knew all about it, himself. + +Lorimer nodded contentedly at the stage, as Thayer ended his song. + +"That's all right; but they would better save their strength, for he +never gives an encore for the first number. What do you think of Thayer +now, Beatrix?" + +She caught her breath sharply. + +"That I should be a better woman, if I could hear him sing often." + +"There's something in what you say. He makes me feel it, too. I never +have heard him sing better, though he always does that song well. He +told me once that he felt possessed with the spirit of his own +grandfather, whenever he started it. From all signs, his grandfather +must have been an intolerable old person to get on with, if he could +rage in that fashion." + +"Possibly he had occasion." Beatrix forced herself to speak lightly, +though it was an effort for her to resume the accent and manner which +befitted the place. + +"Perhaps. He was a Russian musician with a young wife. Now for the +Schubert group! Thayer's reputation is made, though; he can sing through +his nose now, and they will think it a beautiful manifestation of +individual genius. I only hope that Arlt will do one tenth as well." + +It proved that Arlt did fully six tenths as well, and was applauded to +the echo. To the undiscerning ear, he won even more than his share of +applause; but Beatrix, her nerves still tense from _The Erl-King_, felt +a difference in the quality of the welcome to the two musicians. The +critical few were impartial, and in the case of Arlt they led a wavering +fugue of the uncritical many. Arlt was young, small and insignificant. +His tailor was not an artist, and Arlt was too palpably conscious that +his coat tails demanded respectful care. Society applauded Arlt with +punctilious courtesy; but it promptly took Thayer to its bosom and +caressed him with enthusiasm. + +Late in the evening, Beatrix brought her father to the corner where +Thayer, with Arlt beside him, was still holding a sort of court, and the +four of them were talking quietly when Mrs. Stanley came pushing her way +towards them. + +"I must add my word of congratulation, Mr. Thayer," she said, as she +graciously offered him a pudgy bundle of white kid fingers. "You have +made a wonderful success, and it won't be long before you have New York +at your feet." + +Thayer glanced down at his patent leather shoes. + +"It would be a good deal in the way, Mrs. Stanley. Let us hope it will +stay where it belongs," he answered gravely. + +"How ungrateful you artists are! But I shall always be so glad and proud +to think that your first song in New York was in my house." + +"But it wasn't." + +Her face fell. + +"I thought--Wasn't that your first recital? I am sure you said--" + +His smile went no further than his lips, for his clear gray eyes +appeared to be taking her mental and spiritual measure, with some little +disappointment at the result. + +"It was my first recital, Mrs. Stanley; but not my first song. I sang +German folk songs to Arlt's landlady, half the afternoon before. You +remember Mr. Arlt, I think." + +She glanced around with a carelessness which ignored the hand that the +boy shyly extended towards her. + +"Oh, yes, very pleased," she said vaguely. Then, with a resumption of +her former manner, she turned back to Thayer. "And I thought you +promised to drop in for a cup of tea, some Thursday, Mr. Thayer." + +Beatrix was deaf to his answer. She had turned to Arlt who, scarlet with +hurt and anger, stood alone in his corner by the piano. + +"Mr. Arlt," she said gayly; "it is very warm here, and I know where they +keep the frappe. Shall we leave my father here, and run off in search of +some goodies? You ought to be hungry, after playing for two hours. +Come!" + +And Arlt, surprised at the sudden winning intonations which had crept +into her voice, dodged around the portly back of Mrs. Stanley and +followed Beatrix out of the room. For the moment, the haughty woman had +changed to a jovial, friendly girl, no more awe-inspiring than Katarina, +in spite of her wonderful gown and the fluffy white thing in her hair; +and the artist, in his turn, changed into a normal hungry boy, as he +followed her away. + +So absorbed were they in each other that they failed to see Bobby Dane +who met them upon the threshold, on his way to join the group they had +just left. + +"Beg pardon, Thayer; but can I speak to you for a moment?" he said +abruptly. + +His uncle turned to Mrs. Stanley with old-fashioned pomposity. + +"May I have the pleasure of taking you to the dining-room?" he asked. + +"What is it, Dane?" Thayer asked, as soon as they were alone, for +Bobby's face showed that something was amiss. + +"It's Lorimer in the smoking-room. That beast of a Lloyd Avalons has +opened a perfect bar in there, and--and Lorimer is making a bit of a cad +of himself," Bobby confessed reluctantly. "I tried to get him away; but +he wouldn't come, and I thought perhaps you could start him. It's not +that he is drunk, only he is talking rather too much, and I want to get +him off before Beatrix gets wind of it. You know girls--" + +"I know," Thayer assented gravely. "I'll see what I can do with him." + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +"You musicians make me deadly weary," Bobby proclaimed, from his +favorite rostrum of the hearthrug. + +"Is that the reason you are trying to sit on them, Bobby?" his cousin +asked. "You'll find an easy chair just as restful to you and a good deal +more so to the musician." + +Bobby waved her remark aside. + +"Don't interrupt me, Beatrix. I have things I wish to say." + +"Very likely; but it is barely possible that somebody else also may have +things he wishes to say, and can't, because you talk so much." + +"Sally is busy eating bonbons, and Thayer would much better wait till I +get through his indictment. He'll need all his voice to defend himself." + +Sally glanced up. + +"Go on, Bobby," she said encouragingly. "The sooner it is over, the +better." + +"Thank you. Then I have the floor. Thayer, I never believe in talking +about people behind their backs, so I look you squarely in the eye and +ask you if you ever realize that you don't amount to much, after all." + +"Who told you?" + +"Nobody. I evolved it." + +"I didn't know you were a critic." + +"I'm not, nor yet an interpreting artist. I create." + +"What, I should like to know!" This was from Sally. + +"Scareheads. I do them. If that's not creating, I should like to know +what is. They never have any connection with facts." + +"What is your grievance?" Thayer asked languidly. + +"I was just getting to that. As I say, I create. You only interpret. I +don't know as it counts that you don't try to interpret my scareheads, +though some of them would make stunning fugues. Take the last one, for +instance: _Billions at Stake: Potato Corner in Prospect_. You could work +up something fine from that, Thayer. Think of the chest tones you could +throw into the single word _Potato_!" + +"Bobby, you are growing discursive," his cousin reminded him. + +"No; it is only my rhetorical method. I shall bring you up with a round +turn, before you know it. Well, granted that we represent the two +classes, the creative and the interpretive, which is the greater?" + +"How can we tell, unless you stand back to back?" Sally inquired. + +But by this time, Bobby was fairly launched. + +"The fact is, you singers and players have a smug little fashion of +forgetting that there is a composer back of you. You don't sing +extempore, Thayer, make up the song as you go along. You're nothing more +than a species of elocutionist, you know, trying to show the people who +weren't on the spot what the composer really did when he created the +thing." + +"Animated phonograph records, in short?" Thayer suggested. + +"Yes, if you choose to call it that. Of course you count for something, +else every composer could make a set of records and dispense with his +interpreting artist once for all. But you fellows honestly do make an +awful fuss about yourselves; now don't you?" + +"Bobby!" Beatrix protested. + +"Oh, yes; but I'm not meaning anything personal," Bobby responded +amicably. "We know that Thayer's voice is beyond all odds the best we +have heard for a three years. How do you do it, Thayer? You look as calm +as a Dutch dolly; but you manage to tear us all to bits. Even I felt +sanctified at your recital, and Miss Van Osdel's lashes were freighted +with unshed tears." + +"That must be one of your next week's scareheads," she objected. "I +never cry in public where there are electric lights, Mr. Thayer; it's +horribly unbecoming to most women. But I did have to say a nonsense +rhyme over to myself, to keep steady." + +"Yes, I taught you that trick," Beatrix asserted suddenly. "Lear is very +soothing in an emotional crisis. _The Rubaiyat_ for gooseflesh and Lear +for tears is my rule. _The Jumblies_ carried me safely through the fifth +act of _Cyrano_. But go on, Bobby. We are nearly ready to change the +subject." + +"Now take that recital of yours," Bobby pursued meditatively. "You were +there to interpret Schubert and Franz and those fellows; but nobody is +talking about Schubert and Franz, to-day. It is all Thayer, Cotton +Mather Thayer, Baritone. It's all right enough. You did them awfully +well; but there's the Them in the background, and it's not decent to +forget Them." + +Thayer laughed good-naturedly. It was impossible to take offence at the +mock seriousness of Bobby's harangue. Furthermore, it held its own grain +of truth, even though the grain was buried in an infinite amount of +chaff. + +"I do occasionally remember that there was a composer," he suggested; +"and, in case of the dead ones, you need somebody to sing them." + +"Ye-es," Bobby replied grudgingly; "and in case of the live ones, too, +sometimes. I have an idea that you make a good deal better noise out of +it than most of these old duffers would do. It is only that you take all +the glory for the whole business. The newsboys on the street corners +have no right to take the credit for my scareheads." + +"They are a self-respecting race, Bobby; they don't want to." + +"How unkind of you, Sally! But the cases are analogous. And my final +point, aside from professional jealousy, is the economy of time. You +grub longer over learning to sing a song than it takes the composer to +write it, and, when you're through, you've only reproduced somebody +else's ideas. Why can't you be original? Next time you feel musically +inclined, just say to yourself, 'Go to, now! Let us create!' It won't +take a bit longer, and really it's not hard to do. I know, because, you +see, I do it." + +"Bravo, Bobby! I am delighted to hear that you ever do anything." + +At the new voice, Bobby whirled around and bowed himself into a right +angle, while Beatrix rose and crossed the room to greet the guest. + +"Miss Gannion! What joy to see you!" + +Thayer's Russian blood received swift impressions; his Puritanism made +him weigh and measure with careful deliberation. Now, as he bowed in +acknowledgment of the introduction, he was conscious that in Margaret +Gannion he was meeting a woman who would bear either test. She seemed to +him one of the most strongly individual women he had ever met; yet at +the same time he had a comfortable sense of an infinite number of points +of mental contact. Later, he was destined to learn that this sense was +not imparted to himself alone. Margaret Gannion was tangent to many +lives. + +"What is the discussion?" she inquired, as she seated herself. + +"No discussion at all, Miss Gannion. Bobby is doing a monologue on +music, and the rest of us can't get a word in edgewise." + +"Have you joined the ranks of the musicians, Bobby?" + +"Yes, or the angels," Sally responded for him. "Nothing else could have +such a fatal facility for harping on one string." + +"I was so sorry to lose your recital, Mr. Thayer," Miss Gannion said, +after a while, as she turned her steady brown eyes on the young man. "I +was in Boston, that week, and I am told that I missed one of the treats +of the season. When am I to have another chance of hearing you?" + +Thayer hesitated for a moment, while his gray eyes met the brown ones +that seemed to be taking his mental measure. Apparently both were +satisfied with what they saw, for they exchanged a smile of sudden +understanding. Then Thayer's face grew grave. + +"Whenever you wish," he replied quietly. + +"Does that mean you will sing to me, myself? I should never have dared +hope for that." + +"Why not? That is, if you will let me bring Arlt with me. I dislike to +force him upon people; but he is the only accompanist I really enjoy." + +Beatrix looked up with a laugh. + +"You never asked if you might bring him here, Mr. Thayer." + +Suddenly he rose. + +"May I take that as a hint, Miss Dane? I can play a few accompaniments +after a fashion." And, without waiting for the response which was sure +to come, he crossed the room to the piano. + +He sang Schubert's _Haiden Roeslein_ and an American song or two. The +hush over the room deepened, as the last words fell on the stillness,-- + + _"Oh barren gain! Oh bitter loss! + I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn + To kiss the cross--"_ + +And, in the midst of the stillness, he rose and quietly returned to his +old place by the fire. + +It was long before anyone spoke. Then even Miss Gannion's level voice +jarred upon the silence. + +"You have a wonderful gift in your keeping, Mr. Thayer," was all she +said. + +But Beatrix was silent, her eyes fixed on the glowing coals. At length +she roused herself with an effort. Reverie was not permissible for a +hostess on her reception day. She came out of hers, to find that the +conversation had broken into duets. At one side of the table, Bobby and +Sally were sparring vivaciously; at the other, Miss Gannion and Thayer +had fallen into quiet talk about certain common friends and about the +simplest method of helping Arlt to gain the professional recognition he +deserved and needed. + +"I'm not potent at all," Miss Gannion said regretfully. "I only know +people who are, and they are not always receptive in their minds. Still, +I may be able to do something, and he made a good impression at Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons's recital. In the meantime, bring him to my home, some +evening soon. Friday is my day; but, if you don't mind--" + +Thayer understood her. + +"Arlt will like it a great deal better, and so shall I. He is a shy +fellow, and he never shows at his best, when too many people are about." + +Miss Gannion's face betrayed her relief. She had not meant to seem +inhospitable; neither had she desired apparently to be scheming for a +free recital. It was a precarious matter, this establishing social +relations with a really great artist who had just expressed his +willingness to sing in private life. Miss Gannion's acquaintance was +large and of many lines; but Thayer was a new species to her, and she +had felt somewhat at a loss how to treat him, as artist or as mere man. +Thayer's answer inclined her to the latter alternative. + +"What about Saturday, then?" she asked. "I shall be at home, that +night." + +"Please ask me, Miss Gannion," Bobby entreated. + +Miss Gannion shook her head. + +"No; you are too much in evidence, Bobby. You would distract my mind +from Mr. Arlt, and this is his party, you know. Even Mr. Thayer is +subordinate. But, Beatrix child, where is Mr. Lorimer? I thought surely +I should find him here, to-day. I've not congratulated him yet. That was +one thing that brought me here." + +Beatrix flushed a little. + +"Mr. Lorimer was called to Washington, last Thursday," she answered so +evenly that no one would have suspected the wondering annoyance which +his hasty note of explanation had caused her. + +"Then he was here for your recital." Miss Gannion turned back to Thayer +once more. "Didn't someone tell me you were old friends, Mr. Thayer? It +must have been a very exhilarating night for him, this American debut of +yours." + +For the space of a minute, out of her four hearers, three were holding +their breath. Under the promise of the strictest secrecy, Bobby had +confided to Sally the story of the scene in the smoking-room; and, like +two conspirators, they had spent a long evening in stealthy discussion +of the best way to keep the matter from the ears of Beatrix. Sally liked +Lorimer; Bobby detested him, yet to neither of them had the matter +seemed of quite sufficient importance to justify a broken engagement, +and they were too well acquainted with the strict code of Beatrix Dane +to doubt what would be the outcome of the affair, if the facts were to +reach her ears. Sally was less mature, less aware of the danger inherent +in the situation, less strong in her condemnation of what she termed +"friskiness." Bobby, with a shrug of his shoulders, admitted that a man +should not be condemned for a first offence, that there was plenty of +time to watch for a repetition of the affair, to warn Beatrix then and +to allow her to take her own course as seemed good to her. Meanwhile, +there was no use in disturbing her for nothing. It might be a single +slip, such as all men are liable to make. Of course, as Sally argued, +Lorimer had been under strong excitement, that evening, partly by reason +of his own newly-announced engagement, partly by reason of the brilliant +success of his friend. Lloyd Avalons was just the man to take advantage +of such a situation, and to think it a huge piece of humorous +hospitality to throw Lorimer off his guard. Lloyd Avalons had never +joined the camp of the prohibitionists, himself, and he saw no reason +for staying the appetites of his guests. To his mind, that Sidney +Lorimer could drink too much wine in his house presupposed a certain +intimacy. At least, if the incident were to be mentioned, their names +were bound to be bracketed with each other. Like his wife, Lloyd Avalons +possessed his social ambitions. + +In the most accurate use of the words, Lorimer had not been drunk, only +intoxicated. When Thayer, with Bobby at his side, had appeared in the +door of the smoking-room, Lorimer had been more flushed, more garrulous +than was his wont, more inclined to the French doctrine of equality and +fraternity. In some moods, he would not have tolerated the arm of Lloyd +Avalons which now rested across the back of his chair. + +The scene lasted only for an instant. Thayer went into the room, +accepted a dozen hot hands whose owners were trying rather incoherently +to congratulate him upon his success, waved aside the wine offered him, +and, with a word of excuse, bent down and spoke quietly to Lorimer. + +"Beg pardon, Mr. Avalons," he said shortly; "but I have a message for +Mr. Lorimer. He is needed on business, and I shall have to take him +away. Please give my good-night to Mrs. Avalons. My cab is waiting, and +I can set Lorimer down at his club." And, with a bow, he had left the +room, with Lorimer sullenly following at his heels. + +In Lorimer's room, Thayer broke the silence which had lasted during +their drive along the brilliantly-lighted Avenue. He had watched his +companion's face keenly and with an understanding born of similar +scenes, and he knew it would not be well to use many words. However, as +he was leaving Lorimer, he turned back. + +"This is once too often, Lorimer," he said briefly. "You've somebody +besides yourself to think of now. If I were in your place, I would have +important business call me to Washington, in the morning, and I would +stay down there for a few days. It will give you time to think things +over, and find out just where you stand." + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +Miss Gannion nestled luxuriously back into the depths of her easy chair. + +"Do you know, Mr. Thayer, it is a very wonderful experience, this having +a species of court musician?" + +He laughed the silent laugh she liked so well. It came from between +close-shut teeth; but it lighted his whole face. + +"As wonderful as it is to have a good listener who always understands +and rarely praises?" he asked. + +Under her thin, middle-aged skin, the flush rose to her cheeks, turning +them to the dainty likeness of youth. + +"You say very pleasant things." + +"True ones. If this keeps on, I shall begin using you as critic for all +my new songs." + +"Like the fabled dog? I wish you would. But, truly, I am not joking. You +are quite spoiling me for my usual diet of recitals. Do you realize +that, for the past two months, you have sung to me on an average of two +hours a week?" + +Thayer smiled contentedly down at her, as he sat by the piano, with one +muscular arm thrown across the rack. + +"Well, what of it?" he inquired. + +"Nothing, except that people say you are refusing engagements." + +"A fellow must have a little time to enjoy his friends," he returned +coolly. "I can't be expected to sing, six nights a week." + +"Your logic betrays your artistic nature. You have sung at five +recitals, this week. This is the sixth night; but you've not been +silent." + +"You know you wanted to hear _Faust_ sung again." + +"Yes, and so did Mrs. Stanley want you to sing at her house." + +He looked up sharply. + +"Who told you?" + +"Mr. Arlt." + +"Arlt shouldn't tell tales. But I had three good reasons for refusing: I +don't like Mrs. Stanley; she doesn't treat Arlt as well as she treats +her pug dog, and moreover you had asked me to dinner. I never sing after +a good dinner." + +"But you mustn't refuse engagements." + +"I didn't. I kept one." + +"Engagements to sing, I mean. You seem to forget that you are a star." + +"All the more reason I should stop twinkling now and then. I can't be on +duty, the whole time. Besides, Miss Gannion," he rose from the piano and +came forward to her side; "we can't give out, all the time. We must stop +occasionally to take something in, else our mental fuel runs low. I +wonder if you realize that this is the one place in New York City where +I can be entirely off my guard, entirely at home. A place like this +means a good deal to an isolated man." + +"I am very glad," she said quietly. + +"Most people forget that a public singer has a private personality," he +went on thoughtfully. "We are supposed to divide our time into even +thirds, practising, singing and receiving compliments. It gets to be a +positive delight to discuss the weather and the fashion in neckties." + +"And to sing by the hour for your friends?" she inquired. + +"It is our easiest way of speaking to them." + +She laughed. + +"But, on the other hand, you are demoralizing me completely. You have no +idea what empty, formal affairs recitals seem to me now; they are so +impersonal. I feel like grumbling, because I can't talk over each item +of the programme with the one who does it. I said something of the sort +to Miss Dane, the other day; but she told me she always dreaded the +sound of a speaking voice after one of your songs." + +"She might have a species of choral service evolved for social use," +Thayer suggested dryly. "The Gregorian tones would lend dignity even to +conventionalities, and they are quite within the powers of any amateur." + +There was an interval of silence which Miss Gannion employed in bringing +herself back to the physical world around her. Thayer's singing always +swayed her profoundly; it gave her the impression of the ultimate +satisfaction of a wish which had haunted her whole life. During the past +two months, she and Thayer had established relations of cordial +friendship. They had met frequently in the world which already was +clamorous for Thayer's appearing, and Thayer was a frequent guest at +Miss Gannion's home. He always sang to her; it had become so much a +matter of routine that now he never waited for an invitation. Once +seated at the piano, talking and singing by turns, she allowed him to +follow out the bent of his mood; but, wherever it led him, she was +always conscious of the insistent, throbbing note which told her that, +underneath his self-control, there pulsed a fiery nature which was +curbed, but not yet tamed, that the day might come when the Puritan +would meet the Russian face to face, and the Russian would be dominant, +if only for one brief hour. And then? Often as she asked herself the +question, Margaret Gannion never swerved from her original answer. In +the end, the Puritan would rule. No man could so dominate others and +fail to dominate himself. + +Thayer, meanwhile, had risen and was thoughtfully pacing the room. Miss +Gannion shook off the last of her reverie and turned to watch him. + +"What is it, Mr. Thayer?" she inquired suddenly. + +He came back to the fire and, deliberately moving the trinkets on the +mantel, made a place for his elbow. Then he hesitated, with his clear, +deep-set eyes resting on her face. + +"I think I am going to ask your advice," he said slowly. + +"Or my approval. It amounts to the same thing in a man." + +It was a direct challenge, and it was made with deliberate intention. +Accustomed as she was to the semi-imaginary mental crises of +struggling, strenuous youth, she yet shrank from the intentness of +Thayer's mood. + +He ignored the challenge. + +"No; it is advice whether to act at all. Later, when I have acted, it +will be time to demand your approval." + +"But you may not like my advice." + +"Very possibly. I am not binding myself to follow it." + +Her color came again this time not altogether from pleasure. + +"Then why do you ask it?" + +"Because I need fresh light on the subject. As often as I go over it, I +find myself in a mental blind alley, and I am hoping that, if I talk it +over with you, I shall clear up my ideas and perhaps get some new ones." + +His tone was dispassionate, yet kindly. With a pang, Miss Gannion +admitted to herself the futility of her ever hoping to gain so +impersonal an attitude. She was intensely feminine, which is to say, +intensely subjective. Talking to Thayer in his present mood gave her the +feeling that unexpectedly she had collided with an iceberg. Glittering +coldness is an admirable surface to watch; but not an altogether +comfortable one upon which to rest. The touch set her to stinging, +although she realized that the sting was out of all proportion to the +touch. She was silent, and Thayer went on,-- + +"You know the people, one of them much better than I do." + +"Then it is not about yourself?" + +Thayer shook his head. + +"I rarely ask help in solving my own problems," he replied. Then, as he +saw her face, he suddenly realized that he had hurt her in some unknown +fashion. "That sounds rather brutal," he added; "but, if you will think +it over a bit, you will see it is wise. I don't believe in wasting +words, and there is no real use in talking some things over. A man knows +he can't state his own problem impartially to someone else, so of course +he isn't going to trust someone else's solution of the problem." + +Her smile came back again. + +"No," she assented; "but there is a certain comfort in talking things +over." + +"Not for me. If I have anything to do, I grit my teeth and do it, and +waste as little thought upon it as possible. Iteration makes good into a +bore. It is best to let it alone. And of bad, the less said, the better, +that is, when it is a matter of one's own personality. But now I want +to talk about Miss Dane." + +"Beatrix?" + +"Yes. I have felt anxious about her lately, and I haven't known whether +to keep still, or to speak. It all seems a good deal like meddling, and +I really know her so little." + +It was unlike his usual directness to wander on in this fashion, and +Miss Gannion wondered. She started to speak; then she thought better of +it and leaned back in her chair. The ticking of the clock and the +snapping of the fire mingled in a staccato duet. A stick burned in two +and fell apart, with tiny, torch-like flames dancing on its upturned +ends. Methodically Thayer bent over and piled up the embers. Then he +spoke again. + +"And so I thought I would speak to you about it. You have known Miss +Dane always, and you know New York and how it looks at such things. I +imagine you take it more seriously, here in America. It is serious, God +knows, and yet it may not amount to anything." + +Margaret Gannion straightened up and spoke with a sudden assumption of +dignity which seemed to add inches to her moral and physical stature. + +"To what are you referring, Mr. Thayer?" + +"I beg your pardon. I thought you knew. I am talking about Lorimer." + +"What about him?" + +Man as he was, Thayer flinched under her keen eyes. All at once, he +realized that Margaret Gannion included among her friends Beatrix Dane, +and that it was Margaret Gannion's habit to fight for her friends. + +"I had hoped you would understand without my putting it into so many +words. Lorimer has been my friend for years, and it seems rather beastly +to begin talking him over; but--" + +"But?" Miss Gannion's tone was as hard and ringing as steel. + +"But he sometimes takes a little more wine than is altogether wise," +Thayer replied, with brief directness. + +Miss Gannion dropped back in her chair. + +"Does--does he get--drunk?" she questioned sharply. + +"No. That is too strong a word. He is imprudent, foolish. Still, one +never knows what may come." + +"Poor Beatrix!" Miss Gannion said softly. + +Thayer faced her again. + +"Understand me, Miss Gannion; I am not doing this for love of gossip. +Miss Dane is nothing to me, and I like Lorimer immensely. But there is +a good deal at stake, and I am not sure how much I ought to leave to +chance. Lorimer is one of the most lovable fellows in the world, +generous and loyal; but he is weak. He was born so; I fancy it is in the +blood. If Miss Dane is strong enough and has tact, perhaps she can hold +him steady. He can't be driven an inch; but he can be led a long way." + +Miss Gannion brushed her hair away from her face with an odd, bewildered +gesture. + +"Wait," she said breathlessly. "I love Beatrix, and it makes me slow to +take this in. How long has it been going on?" + +Thayer's lips tightened. + +"Ever since I have known him," he answered reluctantly. + +"Much?" + +"No, comparatively little." + +"Often?" + +"Well--" The lengthening of the word told its own story. + +"Does it increase?" + +His expression answered her, and she took the answer in perfect silence. +It was a full minute before she spoke again; but when she did speak, her +voice had the old, level intonation. + +"Are you willing to tell me just how far the trouble has gone, Mr. +Thayer?" + +"It is a hard matter to measure. Lorimer drinks less than a good many +men; but it takes less to upset him. In Germany, the students all drink, +and he was with them. As a rule, he stopped in time, but occasionally he +was a little silly. Once or twice it was worse." + +"How much worse?" The question was almost masculine in its direct +brevity. + +"I helped him to bed." + +She compressed her lips. Then,-- + +"Go on," she said. + +"I can't tell what happened while I was in Italy, and Lorimer had left +Berlin before I went back there, so I didn't see him till I came to New +York. At first, I thought he had stopped all that sort of thing. His +color was better, his hand steadier. I knew the temptation was less +here, and I hoped he was so taken up with Miss Dane that he wouldn't +have time to get into the wrong set. The night of the Lloyd Avalons's +recital, he was not quite himself, and I advised him to go to Washington +while the matter blew over." + +"Strange I didn't hear of it," Miss Gannion said thoughtfully. + +"Dane and I saw to it that the story shouldn't get outside the walls of +the smoking-room. Dane is a good fellow, and no fool. He got wind of the +trouble and came for me, and we hurried Lorimer away as fast as +possible. The next day, I began to hear of a supper or two where Lorimer +had been making himself a bit conspicuous." + +"And since then?" + +"Only twice." + +"But twice is more than enough." + +"It shows that the trouble is still there, that one can't count on his +promises," Thayer assented gravely. + +"He does promise?" + +"Yes, like a child. That is the pitiful part of it, pitiful and yet +exasperating. He admits his own weakness, and is sorry and ashamed, as +soon as he comes to himself. For a time, he is a model of caution and +sobriety. Then he blunders into the way of temptation and makes a mess +of it all." Unconsciously Thayer's voice betrayed his dislike of a +weakness of which he had no comprehension. An instant later, he seemed +to realize his own self-betrayal and he pulled himself up sharply. "I +wish you knew Lorimer better, Miss Gannion. Then you would understand +why I am telling you all this. He is so loyal, so generous to his +friends, so full of talent. At Goettingen, they called him the most +brilliant American who had ever studied there, and he was by all odds +the most popular fellow of his time. His very popularity increased the +danger." As if he had been pleading his own cause, Thayer's voice was +full of earnest eagerness. Even in the midst of her anxiety and pain, +Miss Gannion felt the power of its flexible modulation; and her +half-formulated condemnation of Lorimer stayed itself. + +Thayer broke the silence which followed, and his accent was resonant +again. + +"There's no especial use in thrashing over the past. The present is none +too good; but my question is simply in relation to the future." + +"And the question is?" Miss Gannion asked. + +"Whether we ought to tell Miss Dane," he answered briefly. + +"It will kill her." The feminine in Margaret Gannion was uppermost once +more. + +"Such wounds are more likely to mangle than to kill." Thayer spoke +grimly. + +"Poor Beatrix!" + +"She does love him, then? I didn't see how she could help it." + +Margaret Gannion's hands shut on a fold of her skirt. + +"She loves him better than she loves her life; but she loves right +better than either." + +"And what is right?" + +"I am not sure," she confessed weakly. "I can't seem to analyze it at +all. What do you think?" + +"That she ought to be told." + +"What good will it do?" + +"At least, it will put her on her guard." + +"Against what? From your own showing, it is like fighting an unseen +enemy. One never knows when or where it will come. She will only be put +under a terrible nervous strain, faced by a fear that will haunt her, +day and night. Besides, she might break the engagement. Have you thought +of that?" + +"It was of that I was thinking. She ought to have the facts, and be +allowed to face the alternatives before it is too late. Miss Gannion," +he turned upon her sharply; "can't you realize the pain it is to me to +be saying this? I love Lorimer, love him as one man rarely loves +another. Perhaps I love him all the more for his lack of strength. But +that is no reason I should let him make havoc of a girl's whole life, +perhaps of other lives to come. Miss Dane loves him; moreover, she is +very proud. She is bound to suffer keenly on both scores." + +"Then you think--" + +"That the trouble is likely to increase." + +"And, if she breaks her engagement to him?" + +"That it will increase all the faster. She has a strong hold on him." + +"And you would run the risk of loosing this hold, when you know the +danger to your friend?" + +"Yes, when I see the danger to Miss Dane." + +Miss Gannion's hands unclasped, and she looked up at him with the +pitiful, drooping lips of a frightened child. Like Thayer, she too loved +Lorimer. + +"It is terrible, Mr. Thayer. I can see no way out of the trouble; it +stands on either side of the path. But do you think she could hold him, +if she were to try?" + +"It is an open question. Lorimer is weak; but I am not sure how strong +she is, nor how patient. If she could steady him and forgive him +ninety-nine times, it is possible that, on the hundredth, she would have +nothing to forgive. But that is asking too much of a woman, that she +should sacrifice her pride and her hope to her loyalty and her love." + +"I think Beatrix would do it." + +"Perhaps. At least, though, she ought to have the right to choose for +herself." + +Once more Miss Gannion mastered herself. + +"I am not sure. You make the alternatives certain ruin and possible +salvation. I should cling to the chance." + +"And take the responsibility of silence?" + +"It is a responsibility; but I should assume it for the present. What we +should say to her could never be unsaid. It might do good; it might do +terrible harm. It is possible that the truth may come to her in some +other way. I should certainly prefer that it might." + +He bent over the fire for a moment. Then he straightened up and threw +back his shoulders, like a man relieved of the burden of a heavy load. + +"Then that is your final advice?" he asked slowly. + +She made answer just as slowly,-- + +"Mr. Thayer, I am growing older than I used to be, and things don't look +quite so plain to me as they did once. Motives mix themselves more, and +I am not so ready to put my finger on my neighbor's nerve. If I were in +your place, I--rather think I should say my prayers, and then wait." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +"I believe I should hate to have Mr. Thayer fall in love with me," Sally +observed thoughtfully. + +"I wouldn't worry about it yet," Bobby said unkindly. "He yawned twice, +last night, while he was talking to you." + +Sally's answer was prompt. + +"Yes, we were discussing you." + +"Why didn't you call me over to give you some points? It is the only +subject upon which I can speak with authority. But just think what a +lover Thayer would make, troubadouring around under windows!" + +Sally counted swiftly. + +"There are nineteen families in our hotel, Bobby, and thirteen of them +have marriageable daughters. Imagine the creaking of casements, when Mr. +Thayer warbled, 'Open the window to me, Love!' Troubadours will do for +the country; in town, one can heed only the impersonal strains of the +hurdy-gurdy. But really--" + +"Yes?" Bobby's accent was encouraging. + +"If Mr. Thayer should fall in love and get engaged, what could the girl +call him? His name doesn't lend itself easily to endearments." + +"His mother ought to have thought of that, when she named him." + +"It is a case of visiting the father's sins upon the child of the sixth +generation. He is only Volume Seven in the series of Cotton Mathers." + +Bobby plunged his fists into his pockets. + +"That is a respectable custom; but a mighty stupid one. A fellow +oughtn't to be labelled like one of a class. Might as well catalogue +children, and done with it, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and so on through the +list of Thayers. Then, when he came to years of discretion, he could +pick for himself. Do you suppose I would have been Bobby, if I had been +consulted?" + +"What then?" Beatrix asked, pausing in her talk with Lorimer. + +"Demosthenes Alphonso, of course. That's something worth while." + +"Demosthenes Alphonso Dane. D. A. D." Sally commented irrepressibly. +Then she swept across the room and, parting the curtains, peeped out +between them. "Beatrix, the Philistines be upon you! Here comes Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons. Oh, why was I the first to come? As a rule, I believe in +the rotation of callers as implicitly as I do in the rotation of crops. +Bobby, you came next. How long do you mean to stay?" + +"Till the almonds are gone, or till Beatrix turns me out," he replied +imperturbably. + +"All right. Give me five minutes' warning. You can twirl your thumbs, +when it is time for me to start; but I am bound to see some of the fun." + +"Now, children, you must be good," Beatrix implored them hurriedly. +"Bobby, do try to talk about something she can understand." + +"If you want to condemn me to the conversational limits of a mummy, say +so in plain Saxon," he retorted. "How can I talk about something that +doesn't exist?" + +"Bobby!" Sally's tone was full of warning, as Beatrix rose to meet her +guest. + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons had gained one distinct point in her social training. +She had learned to cross a room as if she were doing her hostess a favor +by appearing. Even Beatrix was impressed by the swift, dainty sweep with +which she came forward, and she cast a hasty thought to the quality of +her tea. Bobby, meanwhile, was taking mental stock of Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons's tailor and deciding that he could give points to his own +fellow. For a person who professed to ignore all such detail, Bobby +Dane was singularly critical of feminine dress, as Beatrix had learned +to her cost. + +Seated by the tea-table, balancing a Sevres cup in her hand, Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons appeared to be casting about in her mind for a subject of +conversation. Bobby came to her relief. + +"When you appeared, Mrs. Avalons, we were just speaking of mummies. Have +you seen the latest importation at the Metropolitan?" + +"Mr. Dane!" she remonstrated hastily. "Do you suppose I--" + +"Certainly," Bobby assured her gravely. "I often spend an hour looking +at them, and I always feel the better for the time passed in their +society. They remind me of the futility of earthly things, and inspire +me to higher aims." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons smiled faintly. + +"You literary people have strange thoughts," she observed, addressing +the room at large. "I have often thought I should like to write, if I +only had the time." + +"Why don't you?" Bobby inquired blandly. "The result would be sure to be +interesting." + +But Beatrix interposed. + +"Are you as busy as ever, Mrs. Avalons?" + +"Busier. It is such a bore to be in this perpetual rush; but I can't +seem to help it. Lent didn't bring me any rest, this year; and, now that +Easter is over, it seems to me that we are more gay than ever." + +"That is the penalty of having an early Easter," Sally suggested. "We +had to stop for Lent in the middle of the season, and now we are +finishing up the sins of which we have already repented." + +"Oh--yes," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons responded blankly. + +"Can you get all your arrears of penitence done up in six weeks, Sally?" +Bobby asked, as he passed her the almonds. + +"Yes, if I've not seen too much of you," she returned. "Mrs. Avalons, +when are you going to give us another recital?" + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons rose to the cast. + +"Wasn't that a success? Mr. Thayer quite covered himself with glory." + +"His mantle fell over some of the rest of us, and we gained lustre from +his glory." Sally's tone was slightly malicious. + +"He is certainly a great artist, and I am proud to have discovered him." + +"But I thought Mrs. Stanley discovered him. He sang for her first." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons straightened in her chair. She had no intention of +allowing to Mrs. Stanley the prestige which belonged to herself. Mrs. +Stanley was several rounds farther up the social ladder than she was, +herself; but Mrs. Stanley lacked initiative and was rapidly losing her +start. In the seasons to come, she would find herself playing the part +of understudy to Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. + +"Oh, Mrs. Stanley heard he was to sing for me, and she cabled across to +him to take an earlier steamer and sing for her first. It was a little +tricky. What is it you call it in the business world, Mr. Dane?" + +"A corner in Cotton," Bobby replied gravely. + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons thought she could see that the point of this joke was +directed against Mrs. Stanley, and she laughed rather more heartily than +good breeding required. In her mirth, she even bent forward in her +chair, writhing slightly to and fro, while her silken linings hissed +like angry snakes. Suddenly she realized that she had prolonged her +mirth beyond the limits of the others, and she straightened her face +abruptly. + +"But I am so glad the subject has come up, Miss Dane," she went on. "I +was meaning to ask you whether you thought I could get Mr. Thayer to +sing for our Fresh Air Fund." + +"Really, I have no idea of Mr. Thayer's engagements," Beatrix said +drily. + +"But I thought you knew him so well." + +Beatrix's face expressed her surprise. + +"I know him as I know any number of people, Mrs. Avalons. That doesn't +mean that Mr. Thayer consults me in regard to his plans." + +"Oh, no," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons responded vivaciously. "But couldn't you +just say a good word for us?" + +"I am afraid it wouldn't count for much." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons raised her brows and made a delicate, pushing gesture +with her outspread palms. + +"You are too modest, Miss Dane. We all know your powers of persuasion, +and we are counting on you." + +"Who are _we_?" Sally inquired, in flat curiosity. + +"Mrs. Van Bleeker and Mrs. Knickerbocker and I. We are the committee, +this year, and we are trying to have an uncommonly good concert." + +"It must be very hard for you to work on a music committee with Mrs. Van +Bleeker," Bobby suggested. "She doesn't know a fugue from a bass viol, +and she never hesitates to say so." + +"Therein she differs from most unmusical people," Sally responded, in a +swift aside. "Even truthful people will fib valiantly, where music is +concerned, and go into raptures, when they have hard work to suppress +their yawns. It was a sorry day for music, when it became the fashion." + +"How droll you are, Miss Van Osdel!" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons was nothing, if +not direct, in her personal comments. Then she answered Bobby. "Even if +Mrs. Van Bleeker isn't really musical, it is a delight to work with her, +she is so very charming and so business-like. Strange as it may seem, I +actually take pleasure in our committee meetings, Mr. Dane." + +"I haven't the slightest doubt of it," Bobby responded, with unctuous +emphasis. + +"When is the concert to be, Mrs. Avalons?" Beatrix asked hastily, with a +frown at her cousin who stared blandly back at her. + +"The first week in May, if we can possibly be ready for it. There was so +much, just before Lent, that we postponed it until after Easter. Now we +are no better off, for every day is full, so we are delaying it again. +We want to make it a large affair, don't you know, something that will +attract the swell set and the musical people, too." + +If Bobby Dane hated one word in the language, that word was _swell_. +Accordingly, he glared haughtily across the table at Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons, noting, as he did so, the scornful cadence of her voice over +the final phrase. + +"The two sets rarely mingle, Mrs. Avalons. Which is under your especial +care?" + +Lorimer interposed hurriedly, for he felt the hostility in Bobby's tone, +and he was ignorant of the thickness of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's skin. + +"Both, I should say from the make-up of your recital, Mrs. Avalons. +Society and art both spelled themselves with capital letters, that +night." + +"I am sure it is very kind of you to say so," she answered, while her +pleasure brought the first sincere note into her voice. "I tried to have +something really good. But about this concert; we are to have a soprano +from the Metropolitan Opera House, and possibly a violinist, and we want +Mr. Thayer so much. Do you suppose we could get him?" + +"It might depend a little upon the state of your finances," Bobby +suggested. + +"Oh; but it is for charity, you know." + +"Yes, charity is supposed to be like molasses, sweet and cheap. It isn't +very nourishing to a professional man, though." + +"But Mr. Thayer is not poor." + +"That doesn't signify that he can give all his time for nothing," Bobby +answered rather warmly, considering that the question was utterly +impersonal. "If he sang every day, all winter, for some charity or +other, he couldn't begin to get round in ten years. There ought to be a +new mission started, a Society for the Protection of Over-begged +Artists." + +"But I am only asking him for one charity." + +"That's all anybody is supposed to do. The time hasn't come yet when you +syndicate the job, though I suppose it is only a matter of time." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons looked at him distrustfully for a moment; then she +laughed with a dainty vagueness. + +"You are so amusing, Mr. Dane! One never really knows whether you're in +earnest or not. How many tickets did you say you would take?" + +"One and a half," Sally advised, while Bobby stared at Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons in speechless disgust. "He will go, and take me with him; but +newspaper men are always admitted at half-rates." + +"And you really think Mr. Thayer will sing for us?" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +went on, turning back to Beatrix. "It will be an advantage to him, in a +way, to have sung under the auspices of our committee." + +This time, even Beatrix felt herself antagonized. Thayer belonged to her +own class, and her class was scarcely of the type to need the official +social sanction of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. + +"I have no idea at all in regard to the matter," she answered a little +coldly. "Mr. Thayer appears to me to be able to hold his own, without +the backing of any committee. It simply depends upon his personal +generosity." + +"But it is such a worthy object. And don't you think we could get that +little Arlt to fill in with?" + +"From, by, in, or with charity, and to or for a charity?" Bobby asked +savagely. + +"Oh, of course, we couldn't pay him." There was a falling inflection of +the last word. + +"Then I should advise him to decline charity altogether," Bobby +retorted. + +"It would be an advantage to him to play on such a programme," Mrs. +Lloyd Avalons asserted, as she set down her cup. + +"It would also be an advantage to him to get a little money, now and +then." + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons raised her brows. They were daintily-marked brows, +and the expression suited her pretty, empty little face. + +"I think it is something for a man of no reputation at all to have a +chance to be heard in such a connection," she replied a little tartly. + +"Ye-es." Bobby rose with provoking deliberation. "And it is also +possible, Mrs. Avalons, that when we are thankful even to be charted in +Woodlawn, Mr. Arlt's name may be a good deal better known than it is +now. Sally, we are due at the Stuyvesants', and I think we must tear +ourselves away." + +Out in the hall, he addressed himself to Sally. + +"For social pulleys, give me three: music, cheek, and charity, but the +greatest of these is ch--" + +"Charity," amended Sally promptly. + +Bobby gloomily pulled himself into his overcoat. + +"Sally, I abhor that woman," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +"If you once begin, there'll be no end to it," Bobby warned Thayer, when +he announced his intention of singing for the Fresh Air Fund. + +"I never yet found anything I couldn't end, when I tried," Thayer +returned coolly. + +Bobby eyed him askance. + +"Ever tackled Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's idiocy?" he queried. + +"She is not the only one." + +"No; worse luck! But what makes you do it?" + +"I approve the charity, and I happened to have a free night. Moreover, +it will give Arlt a chance to accompany." + +"But she won't pay him." + +"No, but I generally manage to pay my own accompanist." + +"Do you think he will gain from such a thing?" + +Crossing his knees comfortably, Thayer lighted the pipe he had been +filling, and took a tentative puff or two. + +"I don't know," he said dubiously. "He ought to, but I can't seem to +discover the way to get on in this precious country of ours. Arlt is a +musician to the tips of his fingers; I have yet to hear a pianist in the +city to compare with him. And still, nobody manifests the least interest +in him." + +Bobby contemplated the tip of his own cigar, bending his brows and +frowning as much from his optical angle as from his mental one. + +"He lacks the two P's," he said slowly; "pull and personality." + +Impatiently Thayer uncrossed his knees and crossed them in the reverse +position. + +"Do you mean that nothing else counts here?" he demanded. + +"Precious little. A fellow has got to have good lungs for blowing his +own horn, else he is drowned in the general chorus. That's the worst of +music as a profession; personality is everything. You must be perfect or +peculiar. The latter alternative is the greater help. If Arlt would grow +a head of hair, or wear a dinner napkin instead of a necktie, it would +improve his chances wonderfully." + +"But, if the right people would take him up?" Thayer suggested. + +"They won't; or, if they do, they'll drop him as a monkey drops a hot +chestnut. Arlt plays like an artist; but he blushes, and he forgets to +keep his cuffs in sight. He is as unworldly as he is conventional. +Society doesn't care to fuss with him." + +Thayer looked grave. + +"I am having my own share of good times, Dane. It seems as if I ought to +be able--" + +Bobby interrupted him. + +"You can't. No man can hoist his brother into success. It is bound to be +every man for himself. You can work over Arlt till the crack of doom, +and that's all the good it will do him. People will say 'How noble of +Mr. Thayer!' and they will burn moral tapers about your feet; and +meanwhile they'll leave Arlt sitting on the floor alone in the dark." + +"Nevertheless, I think I shall keep on with the experiment," Thayer said +stubbornly. + +"Good luck go with you! But it won't. You can't make the next man's +reputation; he must do it for himself. All art is bound to be a bit +selfish; but music is the worst of the lot. I don't mean composing, of +course, but the interpreting end of it. It's such beastly personal +work; all the nooks and corners of your individuality show up across the +footlights. They are commented upon, and they have to pass muster. +Artistically, you and Arlt are as alike as two peas; personally, you are +positive, he is negative.'" + +There was a pause. Then Thayer said quietly,--"I think I shall sing the +Damrosch _Danny Deever_. It has a stunning accompaniment." + +The committee of the Fresh Air Fund concert showed themselves a potent +trio, and their concert became recognized as the official finale of the +musical season. Their meetings had been fraught with interest, for time, +place and programme all came under detailed discussion. It must be at a +time neither too soon after Easter to collide with it, nor too late to +have a place in the season's gayety. The place must be lofty enough to +lure the world of fashion; yet not so lofty as to deter the simpler folk +to whom the white and gold of the Waldorf ballroom was a mere name, as +remote from their lives as the _Petit Trianon_. The programme must be +classic enough to satisfy the critic; yet tuneful enough not to bore the +amateur, and accordingly it roamed from Brahms to Molloy, and included +that first Slavonic Dance of Dvorak which sets the pulses of Pagan and +Philistine alike to tingling with a barbarous joy in the mere +consciousness of living. Thayer alone had refused to accept dictation at +the hands of the committee. + +"If I consent to sing, I must choose my own songs," he had said quietly +to Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, when she had suggested a modern French love song +in place of the Haendel aria he had selected. + +"Oh, but it is so late in the season, and everybody is tired," she had +urged gayly. "If we give them too heavy things on a warm night, they may +go to sleep." + +"Then I shall proceed to wake them up," he replied. "And, for the second +number, the _Danny Deever_, I think." + +"Mr. Thayer! That grewsome thing! Why don't you sing _My Desire_, if you +are so anxious for an American song?" + +"I think _Danny_ will be better. Then we will consider it settled." And +it was not until she was out on the stairs that Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +realized she had been defeated and then dismissed by the man whose +patroness she was assuming to be. + +"No matter," she reflected; "we've got to pay Signora Cantabella, and we +can insist upon her singing something a little more digestible. Mr. +Thayer is cranky; but we get him and that little Arlt for nothing, so I +suppose we mustn't be too critical." + +For once, Mrs. Lloyd Avalons showed her good sense. In all truth, +beggars should not be choosers, whether the alms be of bread crusts or +of high art. + +Lorimer dined with Beatrix, that night. Contrary to the custom of the +Danes, they did not linger over the meal; and, as soon as they left the +table, Beatrix and Lorimer strolled away to the conservatory at the back +of the house. The yellow sunset light was still gilding the place, and +through the wide-open windows the night breeze crept in, softly stirring +the heavy palm leaves and scattering the scent of a few late violets +over all the air. + +Refusing the seat which Lorimer silently pointed out to her, Beatrix +paced restlessly up and down the broad middle walk. + +"I think I am nervous, to-night," she said, with an odd little laugh. "I +have been feeling, all day long, as if things were going to happen." + +"Things generally do happen," Lorimer said lightly, as he sauntered +along by her side. + +"Yes; but something unusual, something uncanny." + +Lorimer threw back his head and laughed. + +"I thought you derided presentiments, Beatrix." + +She bit her lip. + +"I do," she said, after a pause. "I know it is foolish, and I am ashamed +of myself; but I dread this recital, to-night, and I dread that hateful +Lloyd Avalons supper after it. Let's not go, Sidney." + +"Oh, but we must. Why not?" + +"They are such impossible people." + +"I know; but everyone will understand that it is on Thayer's account +that we go, Beatrix. And he made such a point of it." + +She drew a long breath. + +"If we must--But I dread it. Do keep Mr. Avalons away from me, then." + +As he looked down at the brown head which scarcely rose above his lips, +Lorimer's smile ceased to be whimsical and became inexpressibly tender +and winning. + +"Count on me, dear girl. He is a brute; but I won't let him go near +you." + +Impulsively she turned and faced him. + +"Sidney," she said, with a breathless catch in her voice; "Sidney--" +Then, while she hesitated, she raised her hands and rested them on his +broad shoulders. "Sidney dearest, do you know what it is to love as I +love you? It would kill me to have anything come in between us." + +Startled by her overwrought nerves, he put his arm around her and drew +her head against his shoulder. + +"I know only one thing, Beatrix," he said gravely; "nothing now can come +between us but death." + +Diamond aigrettes and critical ears both were at the concert, that +night, mingled with a fair sprinkling of those to whom the charity +appealed far more than did the mere musical and worldly phases of the +affair. The little folded programmes were in a way typical of the whole +situation: one page containing the modest announcement of the Fresh Air +Fund concert, the next one the simple statement of the numbers of the +programme, while the third, in full-faced type bore the majestic list of +patronesses. Between his German and Italian fellow artists and his +polysyllabic Dutch sponsors, Thayer's name stood out in all the +aggressiveness of Puritan simplicity. + +As a whole, the concert was as frothy as was the audience. The songs +glittered like the diamonds, and the orchestra played the _Valkyries' +Ride_ with a cheerful abandonment of mirth. + +"Thayer is the only dignified member of the company," Bobby growled into +Sally's ears, as the last note of his aria died away. "The rest of them +are doing tricks like a set of vaudeville artists. I expected that +violinist to play cadenzas with his violin held in the air above his +head. You don't catch Thayer dropping into such trick work." + +"He doesn't need to; he can 'scorn such a foe' to his heart's content, +for he is getting the applause of the evening. Does he sing again?" + +"The very last number. It is an unusual place, to wind up a programme +after the orchestra is through; but I think he is equal to it." + +Beatrix felt every nerve in her body tingling and throbbing, when Thayer +came out on the stage for the second time. As a whole, the concert had +not been inspiring to her; it had been too obviously popular. Yet, at +least, it had tended to relax her strained nerves. Gade concertos are a +species of mental gruel, easy to assimilate and none too stimulating; +but all the innate barbarism of humanity, all of her nervous force +responded to the clashing rhythm of the Slavonic Dance, and the swift +color came into her face and focussed itself in a tiny circle in either +cheek, as she listened. For the moment, she was as fiercely defiant of +fate as a Valkyrie flying forth to battle. + +The mood was still upon her, as Thayer came striding out across the +stage. Arlt was beside him, for Thayer had refused an orchestral +accompaniment and had left _Danny Deever_ in the hands of a pianist. His +choice had been a wise one for Arlt. The two of them had spent hours +over the song, and the young German surpassed himself in the swift +changes of _motif_ until, as he left _Danny's_ soul freeing itself from +the swinging body and took up the cheery theme of the quickstep once +more, even Thayer was relegated momentarily to the background, as a mere +librettist to the passionate fury of the accompaniment. + +Again and again the applause broke out; again and again Thayer insisted +upon leading Arlt before the audience to make his bow; but still the +audience refused to be satisfied. Even the most graceful of bows is not +enough, when one is thoroughly aroused. + +"Play something, Arlt," Thayer ordered him at last. + +Arlt shook his head. + +"It is for you they are calling." + +"Nonsense. This is your success; not mine." + +Arlt demurred; but in the end he yielded and played one or two numbers +of Schumann's _Papillon_, played them like a true artist. As he +listened, Thayer held his breath. At last, Arlt's chance had come, and +he was making the most of it. The furore of a moment before had been for +Arlt more than for himself. Sad experience had taught him the futility +of _Danny_, unless it were adequately accompanied, and the audience were +discerning enough to give honor to whom honor was due. Standing in the +wings, Thayer exulted in each note which fell from the boy's fingers, +round and mellow and weighted with passionate meaning. Arlt was +betraying his hopes and fears more than he realized, just then, and +Thayer grew impatient for his closing phrase, that he might hear the +storm of applause which was bound to follow. He had not counted upon the +veering wind of popular interest which scattered the storm, leaving only +the gentle patter of a summer shower. The critics applauded; but society +applied its lorgnette to its eye and discovered that, in his excitement, +Arlt had neglected to make sure that his tie was mathematically +straight. The patter died away into silence. Then the wind veered again +and the storm broke out afresh, mingled with cries of Thayer's name. + +Arlt's lips worked nervously, as he joined Thayer in the wings. + +"It was you they wanted, after all," he said, with a pitiful attempt at +a smile. + +"Then they are damned fools," Thayer replied savagely; but his hand was +gentle, as he rested it on Arlt's shoulder. + +The boy braced himself at the touch. + +"We must go back," he said. + +Thayer hesitated, while his thoughts worked swiftly. There would be a +certain cruelty, to his mind, in forcing Arlt to appear again before the +audience which had just cut him so mercilessly. On the other hand, it +would be the part of childish pique for him to refuse to show himself. +Nevertheless, he needed Arlt's support. He disliked to play his own +accompaniments, and he felt that, in doing so, he risked possible +disaster. The hesitation lasted only for a moment. Then his jaw +stiffened. + +"It's all right, Arlt," he said briefly. "I am going to accompany +myself, this time." + +As he crossed the stage, he glanced hastily from Bobby to Bobby's +cousin. Bobby was glowering at the audience and grumbling into Sally's +ear. Four rows in front of them, Beatrix sat silent at Lorimer's side. +The color had left her face again, and her eyes drooped heavily. It was +as if, in watching Arlt's overthrow, her old prescience of impending +disaster had come back upon her in fourfold measure, heightened by the +intensity of her exhilaration of a few moments before. When a quiet +woman is stirred from her usual poise, the pendulum of her nerves swings +in a long arc. The Dvorak dance had not deepened Sally's color; the +Damrosch song had not caused her to draw her white ostrich boa more +closely about her throat. + +Thayer struck a vigorous major chord or two; then, with a sudden memory +of the dry glitter in Arlt's eyes, he modulated thoughtfully. His own +eyes rested again upon Beatrix during the few notes of the introduction, +and his mind went swiftly back to the day when he had sung the same +little song in her parlor. Half absently, his eyes were still upon her +face, as he came again to the closing words,-- + + "_I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn + To kiss the cross, sweetheart, to kiss the cross._" + +Unconsciously, uncontrollably, his eyes held hers, and he could see the +two great drops gather there, as she listened, her lips parted with her +deep, swift breathing. Then their eyes dropped apart, and the color +rushed into her cheeks while, with a sudden, impulsive gesture, she +slipped her hand into Lorimer's arm and pressed it until she felt the +returning, reassuring pressure. + +Lorimer looked down at her with a smile. + +"Spooky again, dear girl?" he asked, under cover of the applause which +had broken out madly once more. "He is singing superbly, to-night; but +this last was wonderful. Something has rubbed him the wrong way; I know +that set of his jaw, and it always means that he will be inspired to do +his best. Queer thing; isn't it? If I were angry or hurt, I should go to +pieces completely; but it brings Thayer to his feet, every time." + +"What do you think was the reason?" Beatrix asked, with as great a show +of interest as she could command. The first lesson Mrs. Dane had taught +her child in preparation for her coming-out tea had been the simple and +obvious one that men were rarely minded to sympathize with feminine +moods; but that under all conditions a woman who seeks to please, must +adapt herself to the mental vagaries of her masculine companion. Even +Lorimer, tender and loving as he invariably showed himself, was no +exception to the rule. + +"It was Arlt's snubbing," Lorimer returned, as he rose. "It was a +beastly thing to do. Arlt played superbly, and they might have treated +him with common courtesy. But there is no accounting for tastes. Thayer +is the hero of the evening, and people are too busy applauding him, to +have any time for lesser lights." + +"Do you think Mr. Arlt will ever succeed?" she asked anxiously for, +through Thayer's efforts to bring them together, she had become +genuinely interested in the boy. + +"God knows," Lorimer answered, with a sudden gravity that became him +well. + +Later, that evening, Thayer joined Lorimer and Beatrix in a corner of +the Lloyd Avalons's music-room. Beatrix greeted him half shyly. + +"It was a new experience," she said, with an effort to speak lightly. "I +thought I had learned to know your voice long ago; but I have decided +that I never really knew it, until to-night." + +He stood looking down at her with a grave smile. + +"My voice isn't always reliable, Miss Dane. Once in a while, it seems to +run away with me. To-night, it took the bits in its teeth." + +She felt compelled to raise her eyes to meet his. + +"I hope it won't do it too often. It is wonderful; but--" Then she +pulled herself together with a little laugh. "It must be rather amusing +to you, Mr. Thayer, to watch your effect on your audience, and to know +that you can make them shiver or cry whenever you choose." + +He refused to be won into the laugh for which she hoped. + +"It isn't whenever I choose," he responded, with unexpected literalness. +"Sometimes I feel as if I were the victim of a sort of possession. I +believe I have a demon that inhabits my vocal cords upon occasion. If he +does get hold of me, I am merely a machine in his hands. When I become +my own manager again, I am never quite sure what I may have been doing." + +"Something very good, to-night. But where is Mr. Arlt?" + +Thayer's face darkened. + +"Mrs. Lloyd Avalons neglected to invite him," he replied quietly. + +Lorimer's lip curled. + +"If that isn't beyond the dreams of snobbishness, Thayer! Why did you +come to her old party, then?" + +"Because I thought it would be too petty to stay away." + +"I would be petty, then. But, as far as that goes, Arlt's ancestors were +gentlemen, when hers were shovelling gravel for a dollar a day. American +democracy runs in strange grooves. Thayer, I am going to leave Beatrix +in your care for a few minutes. I promised Ned Carpenter I would see him +in the smoking-room, to make a date for his yachting cruise." + +Thayer looked after him with a certain anxiety which clouded his gray +eyes and found a reflection in the face of his companion. The cloud +remained, although their talk went on as if nothing were amiss. In fact, +nothing was amiss; it was only that their nerves, jarred by Arlt's +failure, were looking for disaster upon every hand. For the time being, +each bead seemed tipped with its cross. Both felt it; both were loath to +acknowledge the feeling by so much as a look. + +Suddenly Thayer roused himself. + +"Lorimer has been detained, Miss Dane, and we both are growing hungry. +May I take you to the dining-room?" + +Side by side, they crossed the floor, now almost deserted, and reached +the door of the dining-room whence came a confused noise of buzzing +tongues and clattering dishes. Then, above all else, Lorimer's voice met +their ears, a merry, laughing voice, but strangely thick as regarded its +consonants. + +"An' so, 's I was shayin', we wen' to Mory's, one ni', an' there was +thish man--" + +Some unaccountable impulse made him raise his eyes just then. They fell +full upon Beatrix standing in the doorway, with Thayer at her side. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +Beatrix's library was full of women, when Lorimer put in a tardy +appearance, the day after the Fresh Air Fund concert. A dozen little +tables littered with cards were pushed together in one corner, and the +tinkling of china and the hum of conversation betrayed the fact that +whist had given place to a more congenial method of passing the time. +Modern womanhood plays whist almost without ceasing; but it should be +noted that she frowns over the whist and reserves her smiles for her +more garrulous interludes. + +Lorimer, as he stepped across the threshold, felt a sudden longing to +retreat. He had forgotten both the whist and the interlude, that +afternoon, and he felt no inclination to exchange verbal inanities with +a group of women of whom several had been at the Lloyd Avalons supper, +the night before. All of them, he was convinced, had heard of the +incident, and were covertly eying Beatrix to see whether she looked as +if she had slept well. His theory was justified by the fact that, for +the first time that season, not a substitute had been present. + +Beatrix rose from the tea table, as he crossed the room towards her. Her +manner was a shade more alert than usual; but her eyes, half-circled in +heavy shadows, drooped before his eyes, as she gave him her hand. He +felt her fingers shake a little, and he could see the color die out of +her cheeks. Otherwise, there was nothing to mark their meeting as in any +way differing from any other meeting in the past. He greeted the other +women, accepted his cup of tea and took up his share of the burden of +conversation with apparent nonchalance. + +The nonchalance was only apparent, however. Lorimer had sought Beatrix, +that day, much in the mood in which the naughty boy turns his back to +receive his allotted caning. The bad half-hour was bound to come; it was +best to have it over as soon as possible. Lorimer had gone to bed, the +night before, in a state of maudlin cheeriness. He had wakened, that +morning, feeling a heavy weight in his head and a heavier one on his +conscience. He had an unnecessarily clear recollection of Beatrix's face +as it had looked to him, the one sharply-outlined fact across a misty +distance peopled with vague shadows. The eyes had been hurt and angry; +but the lips showed only loving disappointment. All the morning long, he +had pondered upon the matter; but by noon he had made his decision. The +meeting was inevitable, so what was the use of trying to put it off? + +"Well, Sidney?" Beatrix said steadily, as soon as the last guest had +made her nervous, chattering exit. + +With some degree of care, he had prepared his defensive argument; but it +had lost all its force and fervor by reason of the half-hour spent in +the roomful of women. Now he made a hasty effort to reconstruct it, and +failed. + +"I am sorry," he said, with simple humility. + +Unconsciously, each had taken the best method to disarm the other. +Before scornful, angry denunciation, he could have burst out into +voluble explanation and defence which, in its turn, would have +antagonized Beatrix beyond any possibility of relenting. For the +unpardonable sin, forgiveness must be a free gift. Confronted by +excuses, Beatrix would have been unyielding. In the face of his +humility, she hesitated to speak the final condemnation, and instinct +taught her that feminine reproaches were worse than futile in the face +of a real crisis. + +[Illustration: "'Can't you make any sort of an excuse for yourself, +Sidney?' she demanded"] + +"How did you happen to do it, Sidney?" she asked quietly, as she seated +herself again beside the deserted tea table and began absently setting +the disordered cups into straight rows. + +He raised his eyes from the carpet. + +"Because I was a brute," he said briefly. + +Methodically she sorted out the spoons in two little piles. Then, +pushing them together into a disorderly heap, she started to her feet +and faced him. + +"Can't you make any sort of an excuse for yourself, Sidney?" she +demanded, and there was a desperate ring to her words. + +He shook his head. + +"I can't see any," he replied, after an interval. Suddenly he laughed +harshly. "Unless you count total depravity," he added. + +She ignored the laugh. + +"I suppose you know, then, what this means," she said slowly, so slowly +that it seemed as if each word caught in her throat. + +His face whitened and he started to speak; but his voice failed him. He +bowed in silence. + +"I am sorry," she went on, while the cords in her clasped hands stood +out like bits of rattan; "perhaps I am more sorry than you are; but +there seems to be nothing else that I can do. Last night was the +tragedy of my life; to-day is the hardest, the longest day I have ever +spent. But--" + +Bending forward, he took up one of the spoons from the table and looked +at it intently for a moment. Under his mustache his lips worked +nervously, and Beatrix saw the moisture gather in great drops upon his +forehead. Fortunately she could not see his eyes, for their long lashes +veiled them. It was better so; she could hold herself more steady. There +was a certain mercilessness in the way she waited for him to break the +silence. + +"Is it final?" he asked at length. "I wish you would give me another +chance, Beatrix." + +"I have given you too many, as it is," she replied sadly. + +He looked up at her, too much startled now to care whether or not she +saw the tell-tale tears. + +"How do you mean?" + +"That last night only confirmed what I have been suspecting and +dreading." This time, there came the scornful note he had so feared. + +He dropped his eyes again, and accepted the condemnation in silence. If +she knew the whole truth, there was no need of arguing with her over the +details. The spoon snapped in two in his hands. He rose and tossed the +fragments into the fire. + +"Where are you going?" Beatrix asked. + +"Straight to the devil." His accent was hard, but perfectly quiet, the +accent of a desperate man, not of a reckless boy. + +Up to the last moment, she had expected that he would seek to justify +himself, would ask her to explain her decision and to modify it. This +grim, silent acceptance of his fate terrified her. It seemed to throw +upon her shoulders all the responsibility of an action which in itself +was right, yet possibly burdened with consequences dangerous to another. +For herself, for the killing of her own great love, Beatrix never +wavered. It was her own affair and concerned herself alone. But she knew +that Lorimer loved her, and all at once she realized that her sudden +rejection of his love was bound to bring forth bitter fruit. During the +time it took him to cross the floor, she was swiftly weighing her duty +to herself against her duty to her neighbor. She was bound to send him +away; but was she equally bound to send him away like a beaten dog, +without a word of explanation or of pity? + +"Sidney?" + +He had reached the door; but, at her call, he hesitated and looked +back. + +"You understand why I am doing this?" + +"Yes," he said bitterly; "I understand only too well." + +"And you think I am justified?" + +He faced about squarely. + +"Good God, Beatrix, when you have stabbed a man to death, don't grind +the knife round and round, and ask him if he feels it! Let him make as +plucky an exit as he can." + +His words broke the strain she had put upon herself. + +"I didn't mean--I didn't suppose--" she faltered. Then she dropped into +a chair and covered her face with her hands. + +Lorimer turned to the door again, halted irresolutely, then went back to +her side. + +"I can't go away and leave you like this, dear girl," he said, as he +bent over her. "It isn't going to be easy for either of us; it is bound +to leave a terrible scar on our lives. But, if it is the only thing you +can do: at least, can't we say a decent good-by to each other?" + +She took down her hands, drew a long breath and looked up at him; but +she was unable to meet the look in his eyes, the loving, hungry look +which she had learned to know so well. + +"We have loved each other, dear girl. I have been better and stronger +for your love. I only wish it might have lasted, for in time it might +have made me quite steady. But I am glad I have had so much. Whatever +the future has for me, at least I have had something in the past." + +The hardness had left his tone, and the passionate, bitter ring. There +was nothing now but the note of utter sadness. Beatrix trembled for +herself, for the fate of her resolve, as she heard it. + +"But I couldn't hold you, Sidney." + +"No, dear; perhaps not. But you held me more than you knew. You only saw +the times I slipped; you never had any idea of the times I nearly went +under, and pulled myself up again for your sake. If it hadn't been for +you and Thayer, for Thayer before I ever saw you, dear, I should have +gone under long ago. Now Thayer will have it all to do." + +There was no reproach in his voice. He seemed to be merely stating the +fact, not entirely for her ears, but as if he were trying to accustom +himself to the thought of all which it implied. Suddenly his shoulders +straightened; his tone grew resonant; his words came more rapidly. + +"It is in my blood, Beatrix. My mother was weak, and I am weaker still. +I know the danger; I see it and I tell myself that I must fight shy of +it. For a while I do fight shy of it, till I get off my guard and think +I am quite safe. The next thing I know, it has cropped out again, and I +haven't the nerve to face it and knock it over. It knocks me over, +instead, and each knock is just a little harder than the one before it +has been. I realize it, and I try to down it; but that's all the good it +does. I am weak, Beatrix, weak and selfish. I honestly think it is +harder for me to keep steady than it would be for Thayer, or even for +Bobby. The taint is in me. I don't mean that it is any excuse for my +making a brute of myself; but, if there is any pity in God, he must give +a little bit of it to us fellows, born weak, realizing our weakness and +truly meaning to fight it, and yet giving in to it again and again." + +"There is pity in God, Sidney," she said drearily; "but pity can't do +any good in a case like this. You need help, not pity." + +"The help of man?" he asked bitterly. "Who will give it? They are too +busy saving themselves." + +"There is only one man who can help you." + +"Thayer?" + +"No; yourself. Sidney, I hate to discuss this thing, for it has come +between us and spoiled life for us both; but you have no right to depend +on Mr. Thayer as you do. You aren't a child, and you can fight your own +way out of this." + +"What's the use now?" + +"Use! Everything. Your whole manhood." + +"But in the end? What does it all amount to?" + +"Surely, you aren't child enough to need a bribe?" she asked in sharp +scorn. + +Her scorn stung him to rapid speech. + +"Beatrix, ever since I turned into manhood, I have known this danger of +mine, and I have tried to fight it for the sake of the woman I might +love, some day. Laugh, if you will. Perhaps it is funny; but it has a +certain pitiful side to it, this trying to keep one's self clean for the +sake of the woman one has never yet seen. Then, last fall, I did see +her. Since then, the fight has been easier; perhaps I've not lost so +many battles. It all seemed more worth while. And now--" + +"And now?" Her voice was almost inaudible. + +"Now I have had it all and lost it, lost it through my own fault, and +there doesn't seem to be anything left worth fighting for." + +There was a long silence. At length, Beatrix rose. + +"Sidney," she said, as she slowly held out both hands to him; "shall we +fight side by side for a little longer?" + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +"I've manufactured a new definition of happiness," Sally said to Bobby +Dane, six months later. + +"What now?" + +"Think with the mob." + +"Who has rubbed you the wrong way, this time?" Bobby queried +unsympathetically. + +"Everybody. I am so tired of hearing people praise Beatrix for marrying +Sidney Lorimer." + +Bobby halted and shook hands with her, to the manifest wonder of the +post-ecclesiastical Fifth Avenue throng. + +"That's where even your head is level, Sally," he said, as he resumed +his stroll. "Do you want to know what I think of her?" + +"If you agree with me; not otherwise. I hate arguments, and, besides, it +is bad form to condemn one's dearest friend. But keeping still so long +has nearly driven me to--" + +"Tetanus," Bobby suggested. "Well, my impression of Beatrix is that she +is a bally idiot. I don't know just what _bally_ means; but our English +brethren apply it in critical cases, and so it is sure to be right. Yes, +I think Beatrix is very bally indeed." + +"Then you don't approve, either?" + +"Me? I? I have hated Lorimer from the start." + +"I haven't," Sally said, after a thoughtful interval. "I liked him at +first." + +"You never saw him at the club," Bobby returned briefly. + +"What did he do there?" + +"I don't know. He just wasn't right." + +Sally paced along meditatively at his side. + +"Bobby, you are a critical being," she observed at length. + +"Mayhap. But the event justifies me. I never have liked Lorimer, and I +never shall." + +"What are you going to do about it?" + +Bobby opened his hands and turned them palm downwards. + +"There's nothing to be done. I hate to see Beatrix throw herself away; +but I can't help it." + +"I wonder what her idea is," Sally said thoughtfully. "She has always +been so down upon any fastness that I supposed she would cut his +acquaintance entirely, after that Lloyd Avalons supper." + +"He acted an awful cad, that night." Bobby's tone was disdainful. "I +helped get him home and, before he was fairly out of the dining-room, he +was bragging about his family, and his money, and the Lord knows what." + +"Yes, I heard him. Beatrix heard some of it, too, before Mr. Thayer took +her away. I was at her house, the next afternoon, when Mr. Lorimer +called, and I was sure she would break her engagement there and then. +Put not your faith in the principles of a woman in love." + +"Confound her principles! That's what is the matter with her," Bobby +growled. "I had always supposed that Beatrix was a reasonable girl; but +no girl in her senses would tackle the job of marrying Sidney Lorimer to +reform him." + +"When I do it, I'll reverse things and reform the man to marry him," +Sally returned shrewdly. + +Bobby raised his brows. + +"The first time you've ever warned me that I was on probation, Sally!" + +"I said a man, not a boy," she replied unkindly. "But, after all, Mr. +Lorimer has been perfectly steady, all summer long." + +"Mm--yes, after a fashion. Of course, he would do his best, for I will +do him the justice to admit that he loves Beatrix with all the manhood +there is in him. To be sure, that's not saying much." + +"You aren't quite fair to him, Bobby. He must have some manhood in him, +to have steadied down as much as he has done, this summer." + +Bobby shrugged his shoulders. + +"He is playing for high stakes, Sally, and he can afford to be careful. +Any slip now would prove to be the losing of the whole game. Wait a year +and see." + +"Then you think--" + +"That his reform is skin deep, and that, like all other serpents, he +sloughs his skin once a year." + +"Bobby!" + +"Sarah Maria!" + +"Don't make fun of me because I was named for a spinster aunt. I can't +help my name." + +"No; it's past help. I'd change it, if I were you. Just think how it +would sound at the altar, while the alteration was going on! 'I, Sarah +Maria, take thee--'" + +Sally interposed hurriedly. + +"But, to go back to Beatrix, if you feel in this way about Mr. Lorimer, +why don't you do something about it?" + +"Do what, for example?" + +"Speak to her father, or something." + +Bobby's answer had an accent of utter gravity which somehow belied the +frivolous form of his words. + +"Sally, I'll give you a new proverb, one I have found useful at times. +Put not thy finger into thy neighbor's pie, lest it get stuck there +permanently." + +For the next few blocks, the silence between them was unbroken. Sally +nodded to an occasional acquaintance, and Bobby, without lifting his +eyes from the ground, seconded her salute with the mechanical raising of +his hat which good breeding demands. Few conventions are more +exasperatingly impersonal than the bow and smile of the average social +being. + +"But I love Beatrix," Sally said inconsequently, after an interval. + +"I, too." + +For the moment, both voices had lost their customary tone of light +banter. Bobby broke the next pause. + +"Couldn't you say something, Sally?" + +"I wish I could; but it is no use. Beatrix hasn't the least respect for +my opinion. She thinks I am only a child, and, moreover, once upon a +time, I urged her to marry Mr. Lorimer. Of course, that was before any +of this came out about him; but I hate to go into details with her, and, +if I don't she will think it's nothing but a whim." + +"What do you care what she thinks?" + +Sally shifted her eyes from the apartment houses on Eighth Avenue to +Bobby's face. + +"Bobby, I am afraid of Beatrix," she confessed. "She is built on a +larger frame than I am, and we both of us are quite aware of the fact." + +"It may be a part of her capacious frame to risk her life in marrying +Sidney Lorimer," Bobby grumbled; "but, for my part, I prefer smaller +women." + +Sally faced him suddenly. + +"Bobby! You don't mean you think he will kill her sometime when he is +drunk?" + +"No such luck! In the intervals, he will adore her and treat her like a +princess; but he won't spare her the anxiety and the shame of knowing he +is liable to take too much at any reception to which they may send an +acceptance. You haven't seen men as I have, Sally; you don't know how +far they can make babbling fools of themselves, without being absolutely +drunk. To a girl like Beatrix, the shame of it when it does occur, and +the fear of the shame, when it doesn't, would be worse than sudden +death. That gets over and done with; the other hangs on and grows worse +and worse to an endless end." + +"And you think there's no cure?" + +Once more Bobby shrugged his shoulders. + +"I wouldn't take any chances." + +"You think Beatrix can't hold him?" + +"She can for a time; but there's no knowing how long the time will last. +Any medicine loses its effect, if it is repeated often enough." + +"What about Mr. Thayer?" + +"He has more power over Lorimer than anyone else; but he has his own +professional life before him, and it won't be long before New York has a +small share of his time. He isn't going to give up a grand success for +the sake of playing keeper to Sidney Lorimer." + +"I think he is fully capable of the sacrifice." + +"Capable, yes. But it would be a sin to allow it; it would be spoiling a +saint to patch up a sinner. Thayer's future is too broad to be limited +by a futile creature like Lorimer. If he turns Quixotic, I'll poison +him. At least, that will ensure his dying in the full tide of +professional success." + +"Ye-es," Sally answered thoughtfully; "but, do you know, Mr. Thayer is +so perfectly organized that I have an idea he could swallow a certain +amount of poison and come out of it unharmed, if his will were really +bent upon accomplishing some definite end." + +There was another interval. It was Sally's turn to break it. + +"Bobby, does it occur to you that we are just exactly where we started? +We both hate Mr. Lorimer; we hate the idea of his marrying Beatrix, and +neither one of us dares interfere. Let's go and talk to Miss Gannion." + +"What's the use?" + +"To clear out our mental ganglia. At least, by the time we have been +over it with her, we shall know what we think, and there's a certain +satisfaction in that." + +"I know just what I think about it now." + +"What do you think?" + +"Damn," Bobby replied concisely. + +They found Miss Gannion alone before the fire. She threw down her book +and welcomed them cordially. + +"I had an indolent fit, to-day," she said, as she drew some chairs up +before the hearth. "Once in a while, I prefer to dismiss my clerical +adviser and settle my problems to suit myself. To be sure, I am quite +likely to settle them wrongly; but that renews my confidence in +churchly methods, so some good is gained, after all." + +Bobby deliberately placed himself in the chair which long experience of +Miss Gannion's house had taught him best fitted the angles of his +anatomy. + +"We came to have you settle a problem for us," he said; "so we are glad +your hand is in." + +"And the problem," Sally added; "is Beatrix." + +"What about Beatrix?" Miss Gannion asked. + +"She is going to marry Sidney Lorimer, and she mustn't. Please tell us +how we are going to prevent it." + +Miss Gannion sat still for a moment, with her clear eyes fixed on the +glowing embers. + +"Are you sure that it would be best to prevent it?" she asked then. + +Bobby started to his feet, faced about, and stood looking down at the +little figure of his hostess. + +"Miss Gannion, Beatrix and I have been chums ever since we could go +alone. In fact, we learned to go alone by hanging on to each other's +hands. I love her as a fellow without any sisters is bound to love a +girl cousin; and I'll be blest if I can keep quiet and see her throw +herself away." + +"Have you spoken to her about it?" + +"I don't dare," Bobby returned bluntly. "I know I should end by losing +my temper and saying things about Lorimer. I wouldn't hurt Beatrix for +the world, and I believe she honestly thinks she is doing the Lord's own +work in not throwing Lorimer over." + +"Perhaps she may be," Miss Gannion said gently. + +"Miss Gannion! Well, if she is, I shall have to revise my notions of the +Lord," Bobby responded hotly. + +Miss Gannion's smile never wavered. She knew Bobby Dane too well to +resent his occasional outbursts. + +"Bobby, my dear boy," she said, with the maternal accent she assumed at +times; "this isn't too easy a problem for any of us; but the hardest +part of its solution is coming on Beatrix. It's not an easy place to put +a woman with a conscience. The old-fashioned idea was to marry a man to +reform him; the new-fashioned practice is to wash your hands of him +altogether, as soon as he makes a single slip. The middle course is the +most difficult one to take and the most thankless. Any good woman is +sure to have a strong hold on the man who loves her; and, in times of +real danger, she is afraid to let go that hold." + +Bobby shook his head. + +"That's Beatrix all over, Miss Gannion. But it will take a mighty strong +grip to haul Lorimer across to firm ground." + +"I realize that." + +"But the question is, does Beatrix realize it, too," Sally said +abruptly. + +"Better than we can. I think she has measured both the danger and her +own strength." + +Bobby took a turn or two up and down the room. Then he came back to the +hearthrug. + +"She can't do it," he said conclusively. "The odds are all against her. +Lorimer can't pull her down, of course; but he can tug and tug till he +has used up all her strength and she has to let him go. And then what? +Miss Gannion, do you honestly think it worth the while?" + +"No; I do not," she said reluctantly. + +"Then why the deuce do you argue for it?" he asked, with a recurrence of +his former temper. "I beg your pardon, Miss Gannion; but this maddens +me, and I came here to have you help me find a way out. Instead, you are +in favor of Beatrix's signing her own death warrant." + +"No," she said slowly. "Down in my heart of hearts, I think it is all a +mistake, a terrible mistake; and I have tried in vain to find a way to +prevent it. Then, each time I think it over, I am afraid to prevent it, +because it seems to me that Beatrix's mistake is just a little bit +nobler than the safe course which we ourselves would take." + +"Have you heard Mr. Thayer say what he thinks about it?" Sally asked. + +"Not lately." + +Sally's eyes were under less subjection than her tongue, and Miss +Gannion answered the question they so plainly asked. + +"Long ago, before the night of the concert, even, Mr. Thayer spoke of +the matter to me. Since then he has never mentioned it." + +"I wish you would ask him what he thinks now," Sally said bluntly. "He +knows Mr. Lorimer better than any of us do, and he should be able to +judge what we ought to do about it." + +"The honest fact is," Bobby broke in thoughtfully; "we can't one of us +do a solitary thing about it, but get together and grumble. Beatrix +hasn't a clinging, confiding nature; she makes up her own mind and she +doesn't change it easily. If she has decided to marry Lorimer, we can +kneel in a ring at her feet and shed tears by the pint, and all the good +it will do us will be the chance of making her die of pneumonia caused +by the surrounding dampness. But it's a beastly shame! I'd rather she +married Arlt and done with it. If you've got to form a character, it's +better to start in while the character is young." + +Miss Gannion caught at the opportunity for a digression. + +"Mr. Arlt is coming to lunch," she observed. + +"To-day? I didn't know he was back in town." + +"He came last night." + +"Was Mr. Thayer with him?" + +"No; Mr. Thayer sings in Boston, last night and to-night. He sent me a +note, saying I might expect him to dinner on Tuesday." + +"I wonder what success Mr. Arlt has had." + +"Mr. Thayer sent me some criticisms. They were very enthusiastic, as far +as they went; but that was only a few lines." + +"And the rest of the criticism probably concerned itself with Thayer, +and was discreetly cut away," Bobby said, as he dropped back into his +chair. "Miss Gannion, Arlt is on the steps, and you have not invited us +to stay to lunch, so we must take a reluctant departure. Before I go, +though, I'd like to ask one favor. When Thayer comes, Tuesday night, are +you willing to talk the whole matter over with him and see what he +thinks about it now? There would be a certain consolation to me in +knowing that he disapproved the affair, and he may possibly suggest some +way of breaking it off." + +"Possibly," Miss Gannion assented; "unless it is already too late." + +The words were still ringing in the air, when Arlt came into the room. +They were still ringing in Bobby's ears, ten minutes later, when he and +Sally took their leave. + +"My mental ganglia are cleared," Bobby said disconsolately, as they went +down the steps. "I now see that there is precisely one thing for us to +do, and only one." + +"What is that?" + +"To grin and bear it." + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +Beatrix's principles extended even to the point of observing her day at +home. Society was bidden, the next afternoon, to a tea at Mrs. +Stanley's, and Beatrix was absolutely certain that none of her friends +would cross the intervening forty blocks in order to look in upon her, +going or coming. In her secret heart, she longed to follow society; +instead, she was sitting in solitude, when Thayer was announced. + +She rose to greet him with a cordial friendliness, for the past six +months had made a great change in their outward relations. They had +liked each other from the day of Mrs. Stanley's recital, and the liking +had increased with each subsequent meeting. During the next few weeks, +they had met often. Lorimer insisted upon going to every recital at +which Thayer was to sing, and under his guidance Beatrix had gained a +fair idea of what went on behind the scenes. Thayer, meanwhile, had +swiftly assumed his own place in society, and discerning hostesses +generally found it well to put him near to Beatrix at dinner. Owing to +his many evening engagements, Thayer usually ate but sparingly, so it +was all the more necessary that he should be placed within range of +someone with whom he cared to talk. He rarely lent himself to the usual +run of social badinage; but retired into his shell whenever it became +the dominant note of the conversation. A man of his bulk and prominence +and potential boredom was an object of hospitable consideration. He +could always talk to Beatrix, for she never chattered. Therefore he was +generally to be found somewhere within the conversational radius of +Beatrix Dane. + +The tea table of Beatrix, moreover, had become one of the focal points +of his New York life. He liked the cheery, informal atmosphere of the +house whose old-fashioned austerity was tempered with a dash of modern +frivolity; he liked the people he met there, people too assured of their +own social position to be touchy upon slight points of social +precedence. Most of all, he liked Beatrix Dane, herself. In the gay, +chattering multitude among whom she moved, her own steadfast quietness +stood out in bold relief, and it answered to certain traits of his own +Puritanism. It was not that she was dull, or overfreighted with +conscience. She frisked with the others of her kind; but her friskiness +was intermittent and never frivolous. To Beatrix Dane, pleasure was an +interlude, never the sole end and aim of life. And, on her own side, +Beatrix felt a thorough admiration for the clean-minded, clean-bodied +singer, a thorough reliance upon his judgment and upon his loyalty to +anyone to whom he vouchsafed his friendship. + +This had been the relation between them, on the evening of the concert +for the Fresh Air Fund, a relation whose cordial matter-of-factness was +in no way disturbed by the potent spell of Thayer's voice. Beatrix had +spent much of her life in the open air; she was too healthy to be given +to self-analysis. She admitted to herself the wonderful power of +Thayer's voice, the passionate appeal of certain of his songs; but she +made a curiously sharp distinction between the man and the voice. The +one might be a strong guiding force in the current of her life; the +other was a rising tide that swept her from her moorings and left her +drifting to and fro over stormy seas. On the night of the Fresh Air Fund +concert, for the first time in her experience, these two personalities +had become inextricably intermingled. As she had said, she had never +before realized the possibilities of either Thayer or his voice. + +Everything had conspired to produce the impression. All day long, she +had been haunted by a nervous, nameless dread. The vague hints and +signs of the past months had suddenly gathered to a nucleus of anxiety +and alarm, and, in spite of her rigid self-control, she had been +terrified into giving the one outcry, partly to satisfy her feminine +need for sympathy, partly with the hope of putting Lorimer upon his +guard. The sympathy had come, prompt and loving; the warning had been +utterly ignored. + +Music ought to be taken with fasting and prayer. Quiet nerves and a full +stomach are deaf to its deepest meaning. To most of the audience, _Honor +and Arms_ stood as a superb piece of vocal gymnastics; to Beatrix, +Thayer was like a live wire, pulsing with a virile scorn of any but +uneven contests, defiant only of those mightier than himself. To her +mind, he was ready to court heavy odds, bound to conquer them, one and +all; and her own pulses beat faster in time to the half-barbarous +outburst which ends the great aria. The Gade concerto, instead of +soothing her, had only exasperated her. She longed to get behind the +violinist and the orchestra and even the composer himself, and goad them +into some tenseness of emotion. But the Slavonic Dance had set her heart +bounding once more, until her very finger tips tingled with the blood +racing through them, and the clashing cymbals had seemed scarcely +louder than the ringing of her own ears. The rest had been only the +natural sequel; _Danny_ and Arlt's failure had led inevitably up to the +finale when Thayer's eyes, burning with that new, strange light, had +held her own eyes captive while he had sounded the tragic note which +dominates all human love. + +And the finale had not been final, after all. She had had a vague +presentiment that the cross might be at the end; she had been totally +unprepared to find it pressed to her lips, that selfsame night. + +With a swift excuse, Thayer had hurried her back into the music-room; +but he had not been able to prevent that one instant when Beatrix had +found herself face to face with a Lorimer she had never known till then. +Though her eyes had betrayed her horror of the scene, she had kept her +voice steady as she asked Thayer to call her carriage and to say her +farewells to her hostess. + +Thayer went with her to her own door. Neither of them spoke until they +stood on the steps; then Thayer cleared his throat, but even then his +voice was husky. + +"It may not be as bad as you think, Miss Dane," he said slowly. + +As if with a physical effort, she raised her eyes to his. + +"Perhaps not," she assented; "but I can think of nothing worse." + +It took Thayer two weeks to gather together his courage to see her +again. He too had been shaken by the events of the evening. His Slav +blood, kindled by the Dvorak dance, fired by his anger for Arlt, had +blazed up into a fury of scorn and hatred against the man who would so +allow his own weakness to stab another's strength. Lorimer, in Bobby +Dane's cab and under the lash of Bobby's energetic tongue, was out of +Thayer's way; but, as Thayer stood looking down at the face, whiter than +the fluffy white fur of her cloak, he had felt a momentary longing to +take Beatrix into his arms and, holding her there, to protect her from +Lorimer and from the danger that was threatening her whole happiness. +The moment passed and with it the longing; but, unknown to himself, it +had done its work. It had broken out the beginning of a new channel; it +had prepared the way for a new trend of thought. + +Bobby Dane told him what had actually passed between himself and Lorimer +on the way home, what had probably occurred, the next day, between +Lorimer and Beatrix. Thayer waited before calling until he hoped the +memory of what had passed was so remote that neither he nor Beatrix +would think of it again. Nevertheless, though Beatrix was surrounded by +callers and upon her guard, the eyes of both drooped before the sudden +consciousness of having faced a crisis side by side. + +According to their annual custom, the Danes went to their cottage at +Monomoy, the first of July, and Lorimer took up his quarters at the +hotel, less than a mile away. Two weeks later, Thayer and Arlt joined +him there. Lorimer had been urgent for Thayer's coming, and Thayer, upon +thinking the matter over, could see no valid reason for refusal. Miss +Gannion was on the way to Alaska, that summer, and, next to her, the +Danes were the closest friends he had made during his first season in +New York. It was only natural that he should arrange his plans in order +to be near them. Moreover, the idle life on the island sounded +attractive, and he was fully aware of the fact that his constant +companionship would be a strong hold upon Lorimer. All in all, he +decided to go. + +He took Arlt with him, on the plea of requiring an accompanist for the +new songs he was studying. The boy needed the change. The stress of New +York life was wearing upon him; the consciousness of comparative failure +had disheartened him. He needed the tonic of sea air and of idleness and +of contact with inartistic, care-free humanity. Furthermore, Thayer felt +that he himself might need the tonic of the simple-hearted affection of +the young German. The world about him was too complex. There were days +when the most conventional of incidents seemed weighted with a hidden +meaning, burdened with a consciousness of their own future import. + +The summer days passed swiftly and with a certain monotony. During the +mornings while Thayer was practising, Lorimer and Beatrix idled away the +hours together. Later in the day, Thayer always appeared at Monomoy, +sometimes with Lorimer, sometimes alone. Occasionally Beatrix forsook +them both, and went off for long walks with Arlt or floated lazily about +the harbor with him, leaving her mother to entertain the young men with +garrulous recollections of her own childhood. + +One subject was forever sealed between Beatrix and Thayer, to one +evening's events they neither of them ever alluded. Now and then, at +some careless turn of the conversation, one or the other of them would +stealthily raise his eyes to find the other furtively watching him; and +their eyes would drop apart again swiftly. It was obvious to Thayer that +Beatrix was carrying a heavy care, that summer. If Lorimer were tardy in +appearing, she was absent and restless; if he came upon her suddenly, +she started; if he talked or laughed more than usual, she invented an +excuse to take him away from the group, apart from the general +conversation. Occasionally, it was evident to Thayer that she was trying +to take him, himself, off his guard, seeking to make him betray himself, +in case he was sharing in her watchfulness. Upon such occasions, +Thayer's mental armor became as impenetrable as a corselet of steel. If +he were keeping guard over Lorimer, amusing him and circumventing him in +a thousand different ways, it was not only for Lorimer's sake, but for +that of Beatrix as well, and it was imperative that Beatrix should never +know. The day had passed forever when he could look into Miss Gannion's +clear eyes and declare with perfect truthfulness that Beatrix was +nothing in the world to him. He admitted this to himself; he also +admitted that there are an infinite number of gradations between the +opposite poles, nothing and something. There was no especial need of +deciding which one of them marked his present status. + +This Monday afternoon was the first time he had seen Beatrix since early +September. He had left the others at Monomoy and, in company with Arlt, +had gone back to the city to put himself in training for some autumn +festivals at which he had been engaged to sing. By the time Beatrix was +back in town once more, he had started upon what was destined to be a +triumphal progress through New England. To some men, the mere +professional success would have been enough in itself; but Thayer was of +too large calibre to find a steady diet of applause and adjectives, both +in the superlative degree of comparison, either a satisfactory or a +stimulating meal. Often and often, as he bowed across the footlights +preparatory to shouldering and lugging off his ponderous wreath of +laurels, he would have given all the evening's triumph for the sake of +one quiet hour upon the Monomoy beach. + +The evening before had been the climax of his empty successes. It had +been Boston's first oratorio of the season, and the wreath had been an +unusually ponderous one. It had met him promptly at the end of his first +number, and it had impressed him as a curious bit of irony, following as +it did upon the closing phrases of _Spe modo Vivitur_. Were his crowns +to be only the thornless, characterless ones that went with his +profession? He bowed low, nevertheless, before the storm of applause, +set up his trophy against the steadiest of the music racks of the second +violins, and lost himself so completely in wondering how Lorimer was +holding out without him that he went through his part in the quartette, +three numbers later, in perfect unconsciousness of the hostile glances +which the soprano had been casting at him during the _Est tibi Laurea_. +Her flowers had been carnations, and only two dozen of them, at that. + +The next afternoon, Thayer found himself in the familiar room, with +Beatrix's hand in his own. + +"Only ten weeks, measured by time," he answered her greeting; "but it +seems half a decade since we were killing time on the beach at Monomoy." + +"Killing crabs, you would better say," she returned, with a smile. "I +think you and Sidney must have exterminated the race for all time." + +"Can you destroy the future for a race that habitually goes backwards?" +he questioned, with a boyish gayety which she had never seen in him +before. "How is Lorimer?" + +No one else but Thayer would have noted the slight hesitation that +punctuated her reply. + +"He is--well." + +Thayer's momentary gayety left him, and he glanced at her sharply. + +"And you?" he asked. + +"I am always in rude health, just now the better for having you invade +my loneliness. Do you still take only one lump?" Her tone was perfectly +noncommittal. + +"Only one. How does it happen that I have the good luck to find you +alone?" + +"Everybody is at Mrs. Stanley's. She has captured a new lion, and has +bidden the world to come and inspect her prey." + +Thayer laughed. + +"What is he, this time?" + +"Not he at all; it is a full-fledged Japanese princess whose husband +does lectures on some sort of theosophy before all the universities. +Your lustre is totally eclipsed by this new comet." There was a short +silence; then Beatrix added inconsequently, "We all of us have been so +delighted at your success, Mr. Thayer." + +He did not take the trouble to discount the fact; but merely asked,-- + +"How did you know about it?" + +"We have followed you in the papers. Bobby had some, and I think Sidney +must have bought tons of them. He even talked of subscribing to a +clipping bureau. He has read them aloud to us, every night; and we all +have tried to act as if it were nothing so very unusual to have one of +our friends winning laurels by the wholesale." + +"They were very concrete laurels, too, Miss Dane," he returned +indifferently, though his face had lighted at her eager accent. "Some of +the wreaths must have been four feet across, and I invariably tripped +over the ribbons, when I carried them off the stage. I did wish they +would furnish a dray; garlands are horribly in the way in a carriage." + +"And then what became of them?" + +Thayer shrugged his shoulders. + +"Ask the chambermaids along the route. I don't mean to be +unappreciative; but not even the most trusting of publics could expect +me to bear my trophies away in my arms, next morning. I came to wish I +could ship them back to the florist, to be presented to some other +baritone, the next night." + +"But you enjoyed the trip?" + +"After a fashion. I enjoyed the summer more, though." + +"There is a certain satisfaction in dropping off the social harness now +and then, and we were comparatively primitive at Monomoy," she +assented. "The whole summer would have been worth while, just for the +sake of seeing Mr. Arlt enjoy it. Has he come back yet?" + +"Yes, two days ago. The trip has meant a good deal to him, and already +he is engaged for two festivals in the spring. I am hoping that a taste +of success will give him more self-reliance. He needs it, if ever he is +to impose himself upon the dear public. Even the critics are prone to +take a man at his own valuation, and one of the best American musicians +is working in a corner, to-day, because he finds it a good deal more +interesting to work towards future successes than to exploit his past +ones in the eyes of the world." + +Beatrix smiled, half in assent, half in amusement at his sudden energy. + +"Mr. Arlt will succeed in time; he is only a boy yet. But, with genius +and energy and his real love for his art, there can be no doubt of his +future." + +"That is as fate may decree," Thayer answered. + +"Or Providence," she corrected him. + +He shook his head. + +"Miss Dane, the more I know of life, I am learning to write fate in +capitals, and to spell Providence with a little _p_. Things are pretty +well cut out for us." + +She glanced at him with sudden intentness. + +"Then I hope the scissors are sharp, and that Moira carries a steady +hand. We have to put up with our own indecisions; those of other people +are maddening." + +"Doesn't that depend upon what the decision finally proves to be?" he +asked. + +Her eyes had gone back to the fire, and her face was very grave. + +"No; I would rather know where I am going. Anything is better than +drifting; it is a comfort to look steadily forward to the best or to the +worst." Suddenly she roused herself. "Mr. Thayer, do you realize that it +is two months since I have heard you sing?" + +He roused himself quite as suddenly. In the slight pause which had +broken her speech, he had been making a swift, but futile effort to +chart the future. He knew that Lorimer was drifting carelessly, +thoughtlessly; he also knew that Beatrix was allowing herself to drift +idly in his wake. And how about himself? And would they all make the +same port in the end? If not, where would the diverging currents be +waiting for them? + +His brain was working intently; but his voice was quite conventional, as +he rose. + +"I hoped you would ask me. After a month or two of singing to strangers, +I begin to feel the need of something a little more personal. Will you +have the new songs, or the old?" + +"The old, of course," she answered unhesitatingly. + +He improvised for a moment; then he began to sing,-- + + "_The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, + Are as a string of pearls to me. + I count them over one by_--" + +Abruptly he stopped singing and struck a dozen resonant major chords. + +"What a disgustingly sentimental thing that is!" he said sharply. "After +our summer at Monomoy in the sea air, we need an atmosphere of ozone, +not of laughing gas." + +And he played the prelude of _Die Beiden Grenadieren_. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +Arlt dropped in at Thayer's rooms, the next afternoon, and sat looking +on while his friend put himself into his evening clothes, preparatory to +dining with Miss Gannion. + +"I walked up here with Mr. Dane," he observed, after a thoughtful +interval. "What an American he is!" + +"American?" + +"Yes. No other country but yours can produce such people. France tries +it, and fails. A Frenchman takes his frivolity in earnest. Mr. Dane is +like that little _Scherzo_ by Faulkes, the one that frisks on and on, +and all of a sudden comes to an end with a loud _Ha ha_ over its own +absurdity. Mr. Dane delights in his own talk, just as you delight in +your singing." + +"He is not self-conscious," Thayer objected quickly. + +"Neither are you. Each of you has a gift, and you each delight in using +it. That is not saying that you either of you regard it as the only gift +in the world. Instead, having it, you make the most of it, to let it +grow and to put it in the way of giving pleasure to other people." + +Thayer smiled, in spite of himself. + +"To paraphrase you, Arlt, what a German you are! Nobody else would +attempt to philosophize concerning Bobby Dane." + +"Why not? He is worth it, for he has other gifts than his wit." + +"Did he say anything about Lorimer?" Thayer asked abruptly. + +"He spoke of him once or twice." + +"Anything especial?" + +"N-o." + +There had been a slight hesitation. The next instant, Arlt felt Thayer's +keen eyes upon him. + +"Is anything wrong with Lorimer?" + +"What should there be?" + +"Nothing should be. I asked if anything is." + +"Mr. Dane would hardly discuss his friends with me." Arlt's tone was +noncommittal. + +"Now, see here, Arlt, don't get obstinate. We both know Lorimer's +failing. Have you heard anything new about him?" + +Arlt stared hard at the carpet. + +"Mr. Lorimer was very good to the mother and Katarina," he said, in his +slow, deliberate English. + +"That may be. Mr. Lorimer has been good to a great many people, and we +aren't going to forget it. That doesn't keep us from knowing his +weakness." + +"No," Arlt said simply; "but it might keep us from discussing it." + +Thayer's lips shut closely for an instant. He felt a rebuke which Arlt +would never have dared to intend. + +"It might; but it does not. We both know it, and there is no harm in our +talking it over. Lorimer is weak and foolish; he isn't nearly so bad as +many men we know. The taint is in his blood, and he is too easy-going to +fight it out." + +"But he did fight, last summer," Arlt urged. + +Thayer's thoughts flew backwards to one night, in Lorimer's room at the +hotel. It seemed to him he could still see Lorimer's flushed face, still +hear against the background of noises that marred the stillness of the +August moonlight outside the window, the high-pitched, insistent voice +of the man who sat on the edge of the bed, arguing about the necessity +of unlacing his shoes before taking them off. The next morning, Beatrix +had received a note from Thayer, apologizing for carrying Lorimer off +for a day's fishing. Cotton Mather himself might well have envied the +grim fervor of the sermon preached by his namesake, that sunshiny summer +day. The old-time hell gave place to a more modern theory of +retribution; but the terrors were painted with a black-tipped brush, and +Lorimer had shuddered, as he listened. For the once, Thayer had made no +effort to avoid rousing his antagonism. Lorimer had been more angry than +ever before in his life; then the inevitable reaction had come, and it +had been a penitent, hopeful sinner who had walked up the pier at +Thayer's side, late in the afternoon. But Arlt, who had been playing +Chopin at Monomoy, all the previous evening, was quite at a loss to +understand how a single day's fishing could so completely exhaust a +strong man like Thayer. + +Arlt changed his phrase to the direct question. + +"Don't you think he fought with the best that was in him?" + +And Thayer assented with perfect truthfulness,-- + +"I do." + +"Then we ought to ask for nothing more." + +"If he stood alone. Unfortunately he doesn't." + +Arlt raised his brows. + +"But the risk is hers." + +Thayer untied his necktie with a long, deliberate pull, and made a +second attempt to arrange it to his liking. At length he turned from the +mirror and faced Arlt. + +"Would you be willing to allow Katarina to take such a risk?" + +"No," Arlt answered honestly, after an interval. + +Neither man spoke for some time. Arlt was unwilling to continue the +subject, and Thayer knew from experience the uselessness of trying to +force him to talk when he was minded to keep silence. It was Arlt, +however, who finally broke the silence, and his subject was one utterly +remote from Lorimer. + +"I have heard from the mother, to-day," he said suddenly. + +"Good news, I hope." Thayer's tone was as hearty as if he had felt no +passing annoyance at the boy's stubborn reticence. + +"The best that can be for them. An old cousin has died, and they are his +heirs." + +"Good! Is it much?" + +"Enough so they can live in comfort, whatever happens to me." + +"And enough so that you can live in comfort, without anxiety for them," +Thayer supplemented kindly. + +"Without anxiety; I can do without the comfort," Arlt replied. "I have +worried sometimes." + +Crossing the room, Thayer laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. + +"And you have borne the worry very pluckily, too, Arlt. It has been hard +for you, this first year in America, with the double care for them and +for yourself. I hope things are going to be easier now." + +"It will be a help in my work," he assented. Then he added, with a +sudden effort which showed how dear the subject was to his heart, "I +think I shall now have a few more lessons in counterpoint." + +"More?" Thayer said interrogatively. + +"Yes; I had already studied for two years." + +"And you want to compose?" + +"When I know enough. Not till then." + +"It takes something besides the knowing, to make a composer, Arlt," +Thayer said warningly. + +"I know. But I think I have something to say, when I am ready," the boy +answered, with simple directness. + +"But, if you wanted to study counterpoint, why didn't you say so? You +knew I would lend you the money." + +"Yes, you would give me everything; but I could never accept this." + +"Why not?" + +Arlt looked up, and even Thayer, well as he knew him, was surprised at +the sudden concentration of character in the boy's face. + +"One will be helped in the small things, never in accomplishing the real +purpose of his life. Each one of us must work that out for himself. +Then, if he succeeds or fails, at least the result is of his own +making." + +Dismissing four or five importunate cab drivers with a brief shake of +his head, Thayer went striding away up the Avenue towards Miss Gannion's +house. As he went, he was half-consciously applying Arlt's words to the +question of his own future. It was true enough that he must work out his +own real purpose for himself; and, in one sense the unsuccessful boy was +happier by far than the successful man. Arlt's purpose was single. +Thayer's was two-fold, and as yet he could not determine which of them +would prove to be the dominant impulse of his life. + +"Really, it does seem very good to drop back into the old ways," Miss +Gannion said contentedly, two hours later. + +The loitering, lingering dinner was over; the servants had been +instructed to admit no other guests, and Miss Gannion was snuggled back +in her deep chair, gazing up at Thayer who stood on the rug with his +hands idly locked behind his back. In this room which showed so plainly +its feminine occupancy, he seemed uncommonly virile, and Miss Gannion, +watching him, felt a momentary exultation in his virility. Most of the +men whom she knew, put on a feminine languor as an adjunct to their +evening clothes. Thayer looked down upon her with manifest approval. +After months of separation, it was good to find himself in the presence +of this woman to whom he was allowed to speak freely his real opinion. +Miss Gannion by no means always agreed with him; but she usually +understood his point of view and was willing to admit its weight. +Moreover, she was able to discuss without losing her temper, and she +belonged to that species of good listener who understands that an +occasional word of comprehension is worth more than hours of mere silent +attention. + +"It is refreshing to get back to a place where my personality counts for +something," Thayer assured her. "The past two months have left me +feeling as if I had not a friend in the world, nothing but audiences." + +"What an ingrate you are! Most of us would be willing to have that kind +of impersonality." + +"Would you?" + +"No," she said candidly. "I'm not large enough for that." + +"It wouldn't have occurred to me that it was any indication of +largeness." + +"To be able to resign your own individuality, for the sake of the +pleasure you can give other people? That seems to me rather large." + +"It depends. I think I would rather concentrate my efforts, person on +person, instead of spreading myself out like a vast impersonal plaster." + +She laughed a little, though her eyes were very grave. + +"You might apply your theory here and now. Go and sing to me, not a new +song, but one of the old favorites." + +Obediently he crossed the room to the piano where he sat for an hour, +now singing, now stopping to comment on a song or to relate some of his +experiences of the past two months. Later that night, when Miss Gannion +was thinking over the talk of the evening, it suddenly occurred to her +that he had made no reference at all to the summer. At length he rose to +return to the fire. + +"No," she objected. "There is one song still lacking. You've not sung +_The Rosary_ yet." + +His stride across the room never hesitated, although duller ears than +his own could not have mistaken the wish in her voice. + +"I have worn out _The Rosary_," he said briefly. "I shall have to let it +rest for a while." + +"I am sorry. I loved it." + +He laughed mirthlessly. + +"It is the weakest kind of sentimentality, Miss Gannion. The song itself +amounts to very little; it is merely a question of the key." + +"I am sorry," she repeated, still a little sadly. "I have cared a good +deal for the song." + +Thayer made no answer, and she sat looking up at him with a steady +wishfulness which made him uneasy. Her next words, though chosen by +chance, increased his uneasiness. + +"Have you seen Miss Dane, since you came back?" + +"I was there, yesterday." + +"How did she seem to you?" + +His steady eyes met hers without wavering. + +"I don't quite understand what you mean by the question." + +Miss Gannion varied the form of her words. + +"Did you think she looked well?" + +"Very." + +"And yet, I don't think Beatrix is happy," Miss Gannion said, half to +herself. + +"Why not?" + +"How can she be? Beatrix is not dense. She thinks things, and she must +know the uncertainty of the future." + +"But I thought it was quite certain." There was a level monotony in +Thayer's accent. + +"You think Mr. Lorimer has really reformed and is out of danger?" Miss +Gannion asked quickly. + +"I wish he had," Thayer answered half involuntarily. + +"Then there is still trouble?" + +But already Thayer was once more upon his guard. + +"I have heard of nothing since I came home." + +"Have you seen Mr. Lorimer?" + +"No." + +There was a curt brevity in his manner which was new to Miss Gannion. In +spite of herself, it set her to wondering whether prosperity had been +good for her friend, whether the consciousness of his own importance +were making him indifferent to the interests of others. Perhaps, after +all, it was true that he was becoming impersonal. He might be growing +larger; he was certainly growing more remote from her life. Miss +Gannion cared for Thayer. Now, while she watched him, her eyes were +lighted with an almost fierce affection, even though her disappointment +made her voice take on a hard, metallic ring, as she asked,-- + +"Are you turning your back upon the problem of your old friend, Mr. +Thayer?" + +"No," he answered; "but I thought we had solved it, in this very room." + +She raised her brows interrogatively. + +"'To say our prayers, and wait,'" he quoted. + +Her momentary distrust of him weakened, and her face lighted, as she +heard him quoting her own words, spoken so long ago. + +"Yes; but I--we all--think it is time--think it may be a mistake." + +He lifted his eyes from the fire, looked at her steadily for a minute, +and then stared into the fire again. She grew restless with the +stillness. + +"And we thought perhaps you could say something." + +"To--?" he asked, without raising his eyes. + +"To Mr. Lorimer." + +"What could I say?" + +"Something to break it off." + +In spite of himself, he laughed outright. + +"Would you advise threats or bribery, Miss Gannion? I really can't +imagine any argument that would lead Lorimer to give up Miss Dane of his +own accord." + +"Couldn't you put it to him strongly that he has no moral right to hold +her to her promise?" + +"I could; but he would probably put it to me just as strongly that I +have no moral right to interfere in his concerns." + +Miss Gannion sat up straight, bracing her elbows against the sides of +her chair. + +"Mr. Thayer, have you any idea that Mr. Lorimer will ever give up +drinking, drinking more than is good for him?" + +"I have not." + +"Have you any idea that Beatrix, if she marries him, can escape years of +anxiety and wretchedness?" + +"I have not," he answered again. + +"Oh, how cold you are!" she cried, in passionate revolt against his even +tone. "Don't you care anything at all for Beatrix?" + +If he flinched at her question, he rallied again too quickly for her to +discover it. Then he looked her squarely in the eye. + +"I would do anything in my power to protect Miss Dane; but this is a +case where I have no right to speak to her. I have spoken to Lorimer +again and again, urging him to control himself for her sake. Beyond +that, I have no right to go." + +"But you said once that you thought she ought to be told." + +"That was months ago. She found out, without being told." + +"Not all." + +"Enough." + +"But, if she knew all about it, all that you know, Beatrix Dane would +never marry Sidney Lorimer." + +"Very likely not." + +"Then you ought to tell her. What right have you to suppress facts that +would change her whole point of view? You have it in your power to save +Beatrix Dane. Once you were willing to do it." She had risen and stood +on the rug, facing him. Stung by his coldness and by her disappointment +in him, she allowed a sudden note of hostility to creep into her voice, +and it cut Thayer like the edge of a steel knife. + +"I am sorry," he said, after a pause; "but it is too late for that now, +Miss Gannion." + +His words were more true than he realized. When, after a half-hour of +uncomfortable, disjointed talk, he said good-night and went away, he +found Lorimer waiting for him in his own rooms. Thayer's greeting was +curt, for he was still smarting from the memory of his talk with Miss +Gannion. He had been impenetrable to her questions, but not to her +sharpness, and he was hurt by the disapproval she had shown. It was the +first time he had heard the curious icy tone in her voice; it had struck +a jarring note in their friendship. For the time being, Miss Gannion had +distrusted him; but at least she had gained no idea of the cause of his +changed attitude. For so much, he was thankful. He had saved his own +respect at the risk of forfeiting that of Miss Gannion. + +Lorimer met him excitedly; but Thayer's experienced eye saw that the +excitement had no alcoholic basis. + +"Congratulations, old fellow! Everything is settled at last, and we are +to be married, early in January. I came straight to you, for I knew you +would be delighted. Of course, I shall count on you as best man." + +It would never have occurred to Thayer that there was need to brace +himself against any possible shock. For a minute, the droplight on the +table seemed to be dancing a Russian _trepac_. Then, just as it was +ready to fall, he heard his own voice saying, with exactly the proper +degree of cordiality,-- + +"I do congratulate you, Lorimer, and I am delighted that it is settled." + +Later on, he knew that he had spoken the truth. + +"And you will be best man?" Lorimer questioned eagerly. + +"Yes. Who else has better claim?" The conventional note was still there; +Thayer felt its aloofness far more than Lorimer, absorbed in his own +joy, was able to do. The silence was short; then Thayer mastered himself +again. "Lorimer," he said quietly; "I certainly do congratulate you, for +you have been able to gain one of the noblest women in the world. Your +happiness ought to be great; but you have taken a fearful responsibility +along with it. At your best you can be worthy of her; but, if you fall +one inch below your best level, you will deserve to be flayed alive. You +have gone into this with your eyes open. You know that you can make +Beatrix Dane's life a heaven or a hell. You and I both know the danger; +we know that she is running a terrible risk in marrying you, and that +you yourself are the only person who can save her from shame and sorrow. +For God's sake, Lorimer, do all you can to make yourself live up to the +best that is in you." + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +Late March found Thayer just completing a long circle. He had gone to +Chicago by way of Washington; he was coming back by way of Canada and +New England. Oratorio societies were rampant, that Lent, and he had been +the popular baritone of the season, completely ousting from public favor +the bass who had monopolized the applause for six or seven years +previous. He had fainted under Elijah's juniper tree times without +number, until he had learned to watch with cynical interest for the +phrase which never failed to draw forth the tears. He had even taken +part in one grand operatic rendition of the work, when the audience had +been half strangled by the too realistic fumes from the altar, and the +chorus, huddled at the back of the stage, had sung the _Rain Chorus_ off +the key, to the accompaniment of the torrent which poured down in a thin +sheet just back of the curtain, raining neither on the just nor on the +unjust, but falling accurately into the groove for the footlights +between them. He had sung _The Messiah_ and _Arminius_ until they were a +weariness to his flesh, and _Hiawatha's_ call to _Gitche Manito, the +Mighty_ had become second nature to his tongue. He had moments of acute +longing to astound his audience with a German student song, and, upon +his off nights, he fell into the vaudeville habit. Not even his +Puritanism could enjoy an unlimited diet of oratorio. + +At first there had been some question of his giving a number of recitals +at different points on his journey; but he had renounced the idea. Arlt +was grinding away at counterpoint under the best master to be found in +New York, and Arlt was the only accompanist with whom Thayer cared to +sing. The boy had no notion that Thayer needed him; neither did he have +any idea of the discrepancy between his own payments and the actual fees +of the great musician with whom Thayer had advised him to study. Week by +week, he brought his few dollars, without once suspecting that Thayer's +monthly checks were really paying for the lessons. + +Arlt had fallen to work with the eagerness born of long and enforced +abstinence. Certain musical themes had been haunting him for the past +two years; yet he had known that he lacked the training which should +enable him to develop them properly, and, with rare self-denial, rather +than spoil them he had turned his back upon them and tried to forget +them. Now, however, his work was beginning to tell upon him, and his +teacher was more and more encouraging, while the old themes came back to +him, grown and enriched by their season of lying fallow. Spurred on by +the consciousness of all this, Arlt was hard at work upon an overture +with which he hoped to greet Thayer on his return to the city. Day by +day, the overture was growing. It was boyish; yet it was dignified and +original. + +On the last morning of his trip, Thayer came down the steps of his +hotel, halted to stare about him at the streets of the leisurely little +city, and then sauntered away towards the hall where the rehearsal was +to take place. It was still early; nevertheless, as he came within sight +of the building, he found the street filled with the members of the +orchestra who, thriftily refusing cabs, had marched up from the station +in a solid phalanx, laden with all manner of strange-looking bags and +cases. Thayer nodded to them with a certain eagerness. After two months +of wandering, it was good to find himself once more within the New York +radius. He had sung with these men often; they knew every trick of his +voice, and he could count upon them not to break into a galloping rhythm +in the midst of a minor _andante_. His face lighted, and his tongue fell +into his beloved German idioms, as he went up the stairs with a bass +viol and a bassoon on either hand. + +The director of the chorus was also a New York man, and Thayer shook +hands with him cordially, wondering, meanwhile, how it chanced that one +short year had made him feel that New York was home to him. The director +knew Arlt's teacher, too. He had heard of the young German's promise, +and it was with some regret that Thayer heard him break off from these +congenial themes, for the sake of introducing him to the officers of the +society who were unduly agitated by the consciousness that they had +captured both Thayer and the latest English tenor who had landed only +the week before and was to make his American debut, that evening. + +Meanwhile, the hall was filling fast. The chorus, chattering with the +nervous vivacity which always heralds a concert, were crowding into the +fraction of space allotted to them; and, in the open floor beyond, the +musicians of the orchestra were gathered into little groups, unpacking +their instruments, unfolding their racks and eying the chorus with +metropolitan disdain. Here and there a violinist, his violin at his +shoulder, sauntered up and down the floor, alternately drawing his bow +across the strings and lowering it again, while he tightened them. Then, +in answer to the call from the oboe, the whole place grew filled with +their din, discordant at first, but slowly coming into more and more +perfect harmony, uniting upon the single note, breaking again into +countless changing tones, only to yield once more to the single _A_, +caught, dropped during an instant's pause, then caught again and held in +long-drawn, jubilant sonority. + +On the heels of the other soloists, Thayer picked his way up the narrow +aisle at the right of the tenors, and took his seat upon the little +stage. As he did so, he discovered a diminutive gallery directly over +the main entrance to the hall. Side by side in the gallery sat two men, +the president of the chorus and Bobby Dane. + +Bobby was beaming down at him placidly, and Thayer's face lighted at the +unexpected sight of his friend. Bobby nodded occasionally, to mark his +approval of the music; then, at the end of Thayer's first solo, he laid +his score on the gallery rail and led off a volley of applause which, +echoing back from the chorus, roused Bobby to such a pitch of +enthusiasm that he knocked the score off the rail and sent it tumbling +down among the rear ranks of the altos. + +"Why the unmentionable mischief do you waste your energies, singing like +that at a rehearsal?" he demanded abruptly of Thayer, as he joined him +on the stairs. + +"Where the unmentionable mischief did you come from?" Thayer responded, +seizing Bobby's hand in his own firm clasp. + +"New York. Just came up, this morning. I'm doing the concert, to-night." + +"Oh! I was under the impression that I was going to do a part of it, +myself." + +"Musically. I represent the power of the Press." + +"As critic?" + +"Certainly." + +"How long since?" + +"To-day. The regular critic is busy with a domestic funeral, his +grandmother, or step-mother, or something, and it lay between the devil +and me to take his place. Strange to say, the Chief chose me; but he was +morose enough to say the old lady shouldn't have died, just when all the +other papers in town were sending up their best critics." + +"But how do you expect to get up a criticism?" + +Bobby smiled up at him in smug satisfaction over his own wiliness. + +"By caressing the mammon of unrighteousness. I know you; likewise the +president of this chorus was in my prep. school. I happened to hear of +him, last week, and I am banking on the fact for all it is worth. +Therefore I have two strings to my bow. That's more than one of your +second violins did. To my certain knowledge, he wrecked two strings in +the overture and one in the prelude of your first solo. After that, I +got interested and lost count." + +"Do you expect us to dictate our own praises?" + +"Not much. I am too canny for that. Besides, don't be too sure they will +be praises. No; I have asked the president, in strict confidence, just +what he thinks of you, and his answer was properly garrulous. His +originality was startling, too. He observed that you have temperament. +Now I am proceeding to ask you, also in strict confidence, what you +think of the chorus." + +"That it has intemperament," Thayer responded promptly. "Dane, I abhor +that word." + +"Is that the reason you coined its negative?" + +"No; but it gets on my nerves. When it started out into service, it +meant something; but now it is used to express everything, from real +artistic feeling down to the way a man rolls up his eyes when he sings +love songs. I wish you newspaper men would bring out something new to +take its place. You can do it; you generally set the fashion in words." + +"I'll ask Lee, when he gets over his funeral," Bobby suggested. "It is +out of my line. I am a greater artist than he is, a typographical song +without words. I do scareheads, and buffet the devil. Thayer?" + +"Yes?" + +"Do you honestly enjoy this sort of thing?" + +Thayer glanced down at the muddy crossing where they stood waiting for a +car to pass. + +"No. I prefer an occasional street-cleaning episode; but what can you +expect in a March thaw?" + +"I don't mean that," Bobby said impatiently. "I'm not joking now." + +"Beg pardon," Thayer returned briefly. "What do you mean, Dane?" + +"I mean all this tramping round the country, singing to strange people, +getting applause at night and reading about yourself, next day. Doesn't +it get a frightful bore, after the dozenth time you've been through +it?" + +"The applause and the audience and the criticisms, yes. The singing, +no," Thayer said, after an interval. + +"And you're willing to put up with one for the sake of the other?" + +"Yes." + +Bobby dodged a shower of mud from a passing cab. + +"Well, tastes differ, then. In New York, we've been going on the same +old routine, and yet no two days have been alike, except in the minor +detail of missing you at places. You have been in twenty different +cities, and I'd be willing to bet that your routine hasn't varied: +sleeper, hotel, rehearsal, concert, applause, wreath, supper, hotel, +bed, and so on around the circuit again and again. And you say the +singing pays for it. It does pay us; but you can't hear yourself, +Thayer, not to get any good of it. If it isn't the applause and such +stuff, what do you do it for?" + +Thayer glanced down at the man beside him. He liked Bobby Dane, and, for +the moment, he felt moved to discard his customary reticence in regard +to his art. + +"For the sake of feeling myself picked up and carried along by something +quite outside myself, something I am powerless to analyze, or to +master; yet something that I can help to express," he answered. + +Bobby accepted the lesson in silence. Then of a sudden his whimsical fun +reasserted itself. + +"Must feel a good deal like getting drunk," he commented gravely. "And +_a propos des bottes_, Beatrix is at home again." + +Thayer's shoulders straightened, his step grew rhythmic once more. + +"When did she come?" + +"She landed, ten days ago, and they went right to the new house. She is +going to send out cards for Mondays in May; but, meanwhile, we are +coming in for an earlier event. There's a note at your rooms now, asking +you to dine with them, next Monday." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because, like a coy maiden, I named the day. It is a sort of +post-nuptial event, the maid of honor, the best man, and the master of +ceremonies, meaning myself. She wasn't going to ask me, because it would +spoil the number; but I told her I would make a point of being there, +and that Monday was my most convenient day. It will give us our first +chance to talk over the wedding." + +"How does she--Mrs. Lorimer look?" + +"She Mrs. Lorimer looks very natural," Bobby replied gravely. "As a +rule, we only say a person looks natural after his demise; but I assure +you that Beatrix is very much alive." + +"And happy?" Thayer asked involuntarily. + +Bobby gave him a swift, sharp glance. Then he resumed his former +nonchalant air. + +"As happy as one always is at landing after five days of acute +sea-sickness. They pursued a storm, all the way home. They didn't catch +it, though, except in the figurative sense of our remote childhood. I +never saw Beatrix look so happy in her life as when she planted her +second foot safely on the pier." + +"What about Lorimer?" + +Bobby shook his broad shoulders, with the air of a man shaking off a +disagreeable subject. + +"Oh, he's all right," he said shortly. + +Together the two men idled away the afternoon. Bobby would fain have +introduced Thayer to his own brother craftsmen who infested the hotel in +the hope of getting speech with the artists; but Thayer had little +liking for being interviewed, and preferred to divide his time between +his own room and the streets. He and Bobby had an apparently limitless +fund of talk, and their conversation wandered at will over the events of +the past two months. However, as all roads lead to Rome, so all +subjects led to Beatrix. When they came around to her in their +discussion, Thayer invariably changed the subject; yet even a few words +on a constantly recurring theme can end by illuminating that theme +perfectly, provided only that it recurs often enough. By the time Thayer +was dressing for the concert, that night, he was in full possession of +all Bobby Dane's facts concerning his cousin, and he was convinced that +all was not well with Lorimer. + +With a commendable spirit of originality, the officers of the chorus had +broken away from the established rule which proclaimed it an _Elijah_ +season, and had chosen to give _St. Paul_, that night. Thayer liked the +oratorio. It seemed to him more original, more inspired, infinitely more +human than the other. Moreover, it would be restful to keep silent and +let the tenor warble himself to a lingering death. Even fiery chariots +become monotonous in time, and an indignant mob affords a welcome +variety. He had not heard the tenor since they had sung together in +Berlin, two years before, and he was looking forward to the evening with +a good deal of pleasure. + +To his surprise and annoyance, he found the music stopping short at his +tympani, powerless to enter his brain. When he jolted himself out of +his train of subconscious thought, he was aware that the orchestra was +superb, that his old friend, the tenor, had added many cubits to his +artistic stature, during the past two years, that he himself, Cotton +Mather Thayer, would have to use his best efforts if he did not wish to +occupy an entirely subordinate place upon the programme. Then he +recurred to his thought of Beatrix and Lorimer. If Lorimer had not kept +a straight course during his honeymoon, what hope was there for either +himself or Beatrix in the many, many moons to come? + +The strings and the wind took up the _Allegro_, and Thayer rose. +Lorimer, if he had been present, would have known what to expect from +the straightening of his shoulders and the sudden squaring of his jaw; +but Bobby Dane, who had been watching the apathy in which his friend was +buried, was distinctly nervous. Then, at the first note, his nervousness +vanished, leaving in its place only wondering admiration. Bobby had +supposed he knew what Thayer could do; but he was totally unprepared for +the furious dignity with which the singer rendered his aria,-- + + "_Consume them all, + Pour out Thine indignation, and let them feel Thy power._" + +The applause did not wait for the orchestra to slide comfortably back to +the tonic. It broke out promptly upon the final note, and it satisfied +even Bobby. Thayer bowed his acknowledgments, and then returned to his +reverie; but he roused himself again at the _Adagio_ which announced his +second aria. + +Then it was, in Paul's outcry for mercy, for the blotting out of his +transgressions, that Bobby Dane understood what Thayer had meant, that +noon, when he had spoken of being carried along by something outside of +himself. Bobby knew Thayer as a quiet, self-contained man of the world; +the Thayer who was singing that great aria was on fire with a passionate +madness, tingling with unfulfilled longing, striving against his whole +temperament for peace and for pardon. Bobby knew all this; he dimly +realized, moreover, that the singer was fired by love for the wife of +his friend, burning with the surety that his friend was unworthy of her, +and struggling with all the manhood there was in him to face that love +and that surety with the stoic calm of one of his Puritan ancestors, to +quench the fire and to cover the ashes. + +Bobby joined him in the wings, at the close of the concert. Even in the +dim light, he could see that Thayer looked whiter than his wont, and +that the veins in his temples stood out like knotted cords. + +"What business have you to be doing oratorio?" Bobby demanded, as soon +as they could struggle a little apart from the gossiping, gushing ranks +of the chorus which surrounded them, pulling surreptitious bits from +Thayer's mammoth wreath of laurel. + +"Why not?" Thayer asked calmly. + +"Because you are throwing away the best of yourself. Putting you into +oratorio is like icing tea. You belong in grand opera." + +Thayer raised his brows dissentingly. + +"I wish I could think so, Dane; but I am afraid I should only disappoint +you," he answered, and his tone was not altogether jovial, as he said +it. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +"I don't expect to be consistent," Sally retorted. "I'm only an +ill-assorted snarl of threads ravelled out from my different ancestors." + +"That's dodging the responsibility, Miss Van Osdel." + +Bobby lifted an oyster and held it up to view. + +"I never did approve of shunting off our sins on the shoulders of our +ancestors," he observed. "They sin; we get the come-uppance. You might +as well say that the grandfather of this oyster is directly responsible +for his being eaten alive." + +"No man's sin is wholly his own doing," Lorimer said half bitterly. + +There was a sudden pause, as they all came to a realizing sense that +Sally's idle words had sent them sliding out upon thin ice. Bobby was +the first to rally. + +"True for you, Lorimer!" he assented cheerily. "That is one of the +doctrines I have spent my life trying to impress on the governor. I +wish he felt it more borne in upon him. But, as you were saying, Sally, +you're not expecting to become consistent. I'm glad, for you won't be +disappointed. The brightest jewel in your crown will have to be of +another color." + +"What color is consistency, Bobby?" his cousin asked. + +"Green, of course, reflected from the jealous eyes of the ninety and +nine sinners who haven't the virtue." + +"I'm not at all certain that I wish to be consistent," Sally asserted. + +"So glad for your sake!" Bobby returned quickly. + +Thayer looked up inquiringly. + +"Because consistent people are such bores, Miss Van Osdel?" + +"So you are a heretic, too? And then they are so smug." + +"But there's consistency and consistency," Bobby argued. "There's mashed +potato and frappe, for instance, equally hard, equally homogeneous, yet +totally different. To my mind, there is a distinct choice between them, +and I prefer--" + +"Cherries in your frappe." Sally capped his sentence for him. "In other +words, we all like a consistent person with lumps of inconsistency. +That's myself, and one of my lumps is a dislike of having Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons on our tenement committee." + +"But, if you are slumming--" + +"That is ignoble of you, Beatrix. The committee doesn't slum within its +own confines." + +"Oh, I didn't mean that at all," Beatrix protested hastily. "Really, +though. I can't see why you and Mrs. Lloyd Avalons can't unite in +working for somebody quite outside either of your worlds." + +Sally raised her brows in saucy imitation of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's pet +expression. Then she pushed Beatrix's words aside with daintily +outstretched fingers. + +"Can't you?" she said coolly, as she ended her little pantomime. "Well, +I can. To adopt Bobby's choice illustration, it would be like mixing +potato and frappe. The potato would melt the frappe, and then the frappe +would--well, would render the potato unpalatable. In other words, if we +work together, I shall pulverize Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, and then the dust +of her individuality will get in among my nerves and clog them." + +"If you can't be consistent, Miss Van Osdel, please do try to be +concrete," Thayer urged. "I confess that I find it a little difficult to +follow you." + +"Not at all," Bobby interposed. "She isn't going anywhere. Sally's +mental processes always remind me of the way we used to play cars in a +row of easy chairs. We were extremely energetic, and we pretended that +we were going somewhere; but in reality we didn't budge an inch. Sally, +what is the reason you don't like Mrs. Lloyd Avalons?" + +"Because she is utterly preposterous," Sally replied concisely. + +"And yet, she is bound to arrive, some day," Lorimer said thoughtfully. + +"Then I hope it may not be until after I have left," Sally retorted. "I +don't care to have her making connections with me." + +"Sally, you are uncharitable," Beatrix said rebukingly; but Bobby +interrupted,-- + +"That's more than you can say of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. She is on half the +charity committees in town." + +"How did she get there?" Thayer asked, with unfeigned curiosity. + +"By toiling upward, day and night. That's where she scores ahead of the +great men. According to the poet, they only belonged to the night +shift. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons sleeps with the Blue Book under her pillow and +dreams social combinations." + +"She probably has a chess board always at her elbow," Sally suggested. +"I can fancy the game, the white queen and her pawn against the whole +black force, each man neatly tagged with his name and social status." + +"She is marching straight into the king-row, though," Bobby added. + +Beatrix called them to order. + +"Does it strike you that this is perilously near to being gossip?" she +inquired. + +But Sally had the last word. + +"It's not gossip to talk over the possibilities of the lower classes," +she remarked imperturbably. "It is social science." + +Lorimer went back to the original question which had started the +discussion. + +"As I said before, there is a certain inconsistency in the idea of a +given number of women setting themselves to work to better the condition +of the masses, and then coming to wreck and ruin because one of their +number is of a slightly different set." + +"Slightly inferior," Sally corrected him. + +Lorimer accepted the amendment. + +"Inferior, then, if you choose. But we are talking of the theory in the +abstract, not of any particular case. One hardly expects to find +snobbishness in slumming." + +"Then that's where one gets left," Bobby commented, by way of +parenthesis. + +"But if you are all stooping?" + +"Yes; but the alignment is better, if we all stoop at the same angle," +Sally protested. + +"What I wish to know," Thayer said thoughtfully; "is where the deadline +of propriety exists. Take the case of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, for instance. +Why does she take Patsey Keefe to her heart and home, and snub Arlt upon +all occasions?" + +"Because she wishes to maintain a proper perspective," Sally replied. +"Everyone knows that Patsey and she are chums from choice; with Mr. +Arlt, there might be a question. Legitimate slumming presupposes two +willing parties, the slummer and the slummed." + +"In other words," Bobby added; "it is socially possible to foregather +with the slum in the next ward; it is death to speak to the undesirable +neighbor in the back alley. The fact is ordained; but it will take +several generations of social scientists to ferret out the cause." + +Sally addressed the table at large. + +"For my part, I like Mr. Arlt," she said flatly. "What's more, I am +going with him to the Kneisel concert, to-morrow night; and, if any of +you are there and choose to eye me askance, you are welcome." + +Later, that evening, Thayer found himself with Beatrix and a little +apart from the others. The dinner had been utterly informal, and it had +been tacitly understood that the guests should linger afterwards. It was +only ten days since the Lorimers had landed from their European +honeymoon, and as yet they felt themselves privileged to hold themselves +a little aloof from the social treadmill. Though the breakfast table, +each morning, was littered with cards and notes of invitation, yet the +season was in their favor. Lent had entered upon its last week, and even +the largest functions clothed themselves in penitential and becoming +shades of violet. Accordingly, it had been a source of little +self-denial for Bobby and Sally to give up their other engagements for +the evening. As for Thayer, he invariably went his own way, invited +everywhere and appearing only in the places which suited his mood of the +hour. It was the one professional luxury that he allowed himself. + +To his keen eye, Beatrix looked as if she were carrying a heavy burden +of care. She was as alert as ever; her social training was bound to +ensure that. But between her conversational sallies, her face settled +into certain fixed lines that were new to Thayer. Even during the past +two months, her lips had grown firmer; but her lids drooped more often, +as if to hide some secret which otherwise might be betrayed by her eyes. +Up to this time, Thayer had never called her especially pretty. She was +handsome, perhaps; but her face was too cold, too austere. Now, however, +it seemed to him full of possibilities for beauty, softer, infinitely +more loving. In the old days, the curve of her lips had been haughty; +to-night, their firmer lines appeared to him like a mask worn to conceal +the gentler womanhood within. She was thinner, too; but browned by her +sea voyage, and she carried herself with the nameless dignity which +comes to a woman upon her bridal day. + +Lorimer appeared to be in the pink of condition. He was more handsome +than ever, more graciously winning. His voice had all the old caressing +intonations which Thayer recalled so well, together with many new ones +that crept into his tone whenever he addressed his wife. By look and +word and gesture, he referred and deferred to her constantly; and his +eyes never failed to light, when they rested upon her own. No man could +have been more frankly and openly in love with his own wife. + +"Then I take it for granted that the trip has been a success," Thayer +said, as he joined her. + +"Indeed it has. Mr. Lorimer took me to all his old haunts and, in +Berlin, to all of yours that he could find. We went to your old +lodgings, and we heard a concert in the hall where you made your debut +and, the last day we were there, Sidney insisted upon hunting up your +old master." + +Thayer looked up suddenly. + +"The dear old _Maestro_! Did he remember me?" he asked, with a boyish +enthusiasm which sat well upon him. + +"Certainly he did, if _remember_ is the right word, for his knowledge of +you was not all in the past tense. He has followed you closely, and he +knows just what you have done. Mr. Thayer," she added abruptly; "why +have you never sung in opera?" + +"Why should I?" + +"Because he said that there was your especial talent, only he called it +by a stronger name. He jeers at the work you are doing." + +Thayer smiled. + +"I am sorry. I thought it was good work." + +"So it is, as far as it goes. But the other goes farther." + +"Perhaps," he assented. "But do you think it is as--as--" + +"Good form?" she queried, laughing. "Yes, if you choose to have it so. +It depends something upon the individual. With your training and +traditions, you would scarcely elect to sing comic opera in English." + +"Heaven forbid!" he said hastily. "But there are grades and grades, even +of the other. Not many mortals reach the top round of the ladder." + +"No; and, even if they did, they would be a good deal in your way, for +the space up there is limited. It will be merely a question of your own +will whether or not you occupy a part of it." + +He was surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. No woman, not +even Miss Gannion, had ever dared question to him the wisdom of his +choice, or imply to him that there were laurels which he had not yet +plucked. Strange to say, he rather enjoyed the frank fashion in which +Beatrix was taking him to task. Nevertheless, he fenced a little. + +"I have always preferred a moderate success to an immoderate failure," +he answered her. + +She shook her head. + +"That sounds specious; but you know it is a quibble. I had never +supposed that your ambition was so limited." + +"But it is not the mark of limitation to know where my success lies." + +"Perhaps not. For my part, though, I don't want to rest on any success. +If I succeed in one thing, that is over and done with, and I want to try +for something else." + +"And if you fail?" + +"Then, as soon as I am quite sure it is a failure and that no power of +mine can beat it into a success, I try to turn my back upon it, and face +another problem," she replied, with a quiet dignity which ignored the +flush that rose in both their faces at the careless question. + +Thayer, too, had seen the flush in her cheeks which had answered to his +own rising color. For an instant, he questioned whether it were an +unwitting acknowledgment that her power over Lorimer was more limited +than she had supposed. Then he dismissed the suspicion. Her poise was +too perfect to make such a supposition possible. It was only that he, +knowing the truth, sought for confirmation upon all sides. + +"You are a good fighter," he responded quietly. "What would be the +concrete application of your theory to my practice?" + +"That you should try to fulfil the ambition your old master has for +you," she returned. "Why don't you try it? You can't gain any more glory +in your present field; you stand at the head of concert and oratorio +singers in America. You have nothing to lose; and, over there in Berlin, +there is an old man who boasts that he made your voice, and says that he +can never sing his _Nunc Dimittis_ until you have entered upon your +right path." + +Thayer's face softened. + +"Did he say that?" + +"Yes, and he extorted a promise from me that I would tell you his very +words. That is the reason I have made bold to speak about the matter." + +"What do you think about it, yourself, Mrs. Lorimer?" + +"That he knows your possibilities much better than I," she answered +evasively. + +"But you have an opinion," he urged. + +"Yes, I have," she replied frankly. "From what he told me, and from what +I have heard of your singing, I know that you can do broader work than +any you have attempted. Your voice will do for either thing, opera or +oratorio; but on a few times--" she hesitated; then she went on without +flinching; "on the night of the Fresh Air Fund concert, for instance, +you showed a dramatic power that is wasted in your present work." +Suddenly she laughed at her own earnestness. "What am I, that I should +advise the star of the season? Do excuse my frankness, Mr. Thayer." + +"I asked you." + +"That's no reason I should bore you with all my theories upon a subject +of which I know practically nothing. And, meanwhile, I am forgetting to +tell you that we went to see Frau Arlt." + +His face showed his pleasure and his approval, his pleasure that he had +found something in Lorimer to which he could give his unreserved +approval. + +"I am glad you saw her. It was like Lorimer to hunt her up. Does Otto +know about it?" + +"He came to dinner, a day or two after we landed. Mr. Lorimer had +written him a note to tell him we were at home, and you should have seen +the boy's delight over the box of funny little odds and ends his mother +had sent him. Sidney is always so thoughtful, and he suggested to the +old lady that we had room in our trunks for a package. I really think +that the boy was happier with his home-made gifts than I was with the +things Mr. Lorimer gave me in Paris." + +[Illustration: "It was so that Thayer liked best to think of her"] + +"He has been a very brave, but a very homesick little German," Thayer +answered, while his eyes rested thoughtfully on her face. It brightened +now, as she spoke of Lorimer, and a half-tender, half-amused smile was +playing around her lips. All in all, Thayer was broad enough to like it +better so. + +Suddenly she rose, as if to end their conversation; but she turned back +again to add,-- + +"Of all my wedding gifts, Mr. Thayer, the sweetest was the blessing of +good old Frau Arlt. She will never forget Mr. Lorimer, and her story of +his kindness in their darkest days, her good wishes to me, and her +happiness in seeing us will always stand out as an unforgettable +picture. You knew all about it, of course; but I had no idea how good to +them Sidney had been, nor how full of tact." + +The smile still lingered about her lips, and her cheeks were flushed a +little, as she turned away in answer to her husband's call. For long +months to come, it was so that Thayer liked best to think of her. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +Beatrix raised her eyes from her letters. "Mother wants us to come to +dinner, to-night, Sidney." + +"But you are scheduled for something else; aren't you?" he answered, +without looking up from his paper. + +"For nothing that I can't break. There are some teas and the theatre. I +had thought I might have to hurry our dinner, to get through in time. +What if we give up the theatre? The Andersons won't mind, if we +telephone them so early." + +"Just as well," he responded indifferently, as he turned his paper +inside out and ran his eye down the columns. + +"Then shall I telephone mother that we will be there?" + +"You can go, Beatrix. I sha'n't be able to be there." + +"Why not, Sidney?" + +"Because Dudley is giving a dinner at the club, to-night, and I am +booked for that." + +"Oh, Sidney!" She checked herself abruptly. + +Lowering his paper, he looked at her in surprise. + +"What is it, dear?" he asked. + +"Nothing, only--I wouldn't go." + +"But I can't get out of it. Dudley made a point of my being there, and I +told him to count on me." + +"I am sorry," she said quietly. "I don't like Mr. Dudley." + +"Neither do I especially. Still, I saw a good deal of him at one time, +and, to-night, he wants to get together the old set. It's sort of a +farewell spread, for he starts for Nome, next week." + +"But you had promised the Andersons." + +"Yes, I told Anderson that I would get around in time to mingle my tears +with yours over the fifth act. Anderson is such a bore that I couldn't +stand a whole evening of him." + +"Then I shall certainly refuse to go," Beatrix said decidedly. + +Lorimer raised his brows inquiringly. + +"For any especial reason?" + +She had risen from the table, and now she stood looking down at him, a +world of disappointed love showing in her dark eyes. She forced herself +to smile a little, as her eyes met his. + +"I am old-fashioned, Sidney. I don't like going to the theatre with +other men than my husband, four months after my wedding day." + +He dropped his paper hastily, and, rising, linked his arm in hers. + +"Why, Beatrix dear, I didn't suppose--" + +"No," she said quietly; "but I wish you had supposed. Still, as long as +I found it out in time, there is no great harm done." + +"But with older people like the Andersons," he urged. "And I should have +been there to come home with you." + +She was silent, and he went on, after a pause,-- + +"I didn't think of your minding, dear girl. You know that I wouldn't be +discourteous to you for anything." + +"Never mind about it now, Sidney. I can telephone to Mrs. Anderson, and +it will be all right," she answered more gently, for she felt the +contrition in his tone and it softened her momentary resentment at his +calm way of adjusting her convenience and happiness to his plans. +"Mother said Bobby is coming, and possibly Sally Van Osdel. She wanted +the four of us to go there for an impromptu dinner such as we used to +have." + +"I am sorry, dear." There was a real note of regret in Lorimer's voice. +"She should have telephoned us earlier." + +"She waited for Bobby's decision. He is the only one of us, you know, +who makes even a pretence of being busy. Besides, as late in the season +as this, it is generally safe to count on people." + +"Apparently not," Lorimer returned lightly. "At least, I seem to be the +unlucky exception that proves the rule. I am sorry, for I know your +mother's dinners of old. I would break most engagements for them." + +"Why not this?" she urged. + +"Impossible. I promised, a week ago." + +Her face flushed. + +"How does it happen you haven't mentioned it?" + +His answering laugh was frank and free from any taint of bitterness. + +"Because I knew you didn't like Dudley, dear girl, and I didn't see any +use in discussing a matter on which we were bound to differ." He +evidently had had no intention of saying more; but, as he saw her +downcast face, he went on, "Truly, Beatrix, I couldn't decently refuse +the fellow, without any good reason." + +She raised her eyes to his face a little haughtily. + +"But it seems to me you had a good reason." + +Lorimer laughed again. It was plain that he was determined not to be +jarred out of his genial mood. + +"A good reason; but not one that was very tellable. You really don't +want me saying to a man that I can't eat his dinner because my wife +dislikes him." + +Lorimer had no notion that his words could sting his wife, and he was +surprised at her heightened color and at the sudden aggressive poise of +her head. Then swiftly she controlled herself. + +"Next time, you can concoct some more specious reason," she answered, +with forced lightness. + +In his turn, Lorimer felt himself irritated by her calm feminine +assumption that his acceptance or refusal of invitations in future was +to be bounded by her dislikes. + +"Next time, we will hope you will have annulled the reason," he +retorted. "Dudley isn't a bad fellow. Moreover, he has the saving grace +of knowing how to order a good dinner and get together a good crowd." + +She felt the half-veiled hostility of his tone, and it cut her. She had +received similar cuts before, during the past three or four months. +Instead of rendering her callous, they had left a sore sensitiveness in +their scars. She battled against the soreness bravely. The Danes were a +race with level nerves, trained by generations of self-control to look +upon moods and lack of breeding as synonymous terms; and Beatrix had had +no conception of the swift alternations of feeling which marked and +marred the temperament of Lorimer. Often as they had been together +during their rather long engagement, he had been able to maintain a +moderately even mood whenever Beatrix was within reach. On one or two +occasions, he had betrayed the fact that he was gloomy and depressed; +but it was not until they came into the every-day and all-day contact +which follows upon the heels of the marriage ceremony that she had +supposed he could be either irritable or petulant. By the time they had +come home from Europe, she was quite aware of both characteristics; yet +they were alternated with hours of passionate devotion, of a tender +chivalry which took away much of their sting. Lorimer loved his wife +loyally; nevertheless, the very traits which most won the admiration of +his better hours, were the first ones to antagonize him when his moments +of irritation were upon him. + +If Beatrix had been of the same temper, the danger for the future would +have been infinitely less. Flash would have answered to flash; and then +the quiet current would have run on as if the perfect contact had never +been broken. Instead of that, her quieter, better-controlled nature +received his flashes and made no outward sign of the shock. In the end, +she remained painfully sensitive to his petulance, while his real love +for her left her unbelieving, cold and apathetic. She had proof of the +one; the other was mainly negative, in so far as practical results were +concerned. + +"Who are to be there?" she asked, as soon as she could trust her voice +to be properly inexpressive. + +"Austin, and Tom Forbes, and Lloyd Avalons, and two or three men you +don't know, and Thayer." + +"Mr. Thayer?" Her accent was incredulous. + +"Certainly. Why not?" + +"I didn't know that he ever had anything to do with Mr. Dudley, and I +really can't imagine his caring to make a table companion of Lloyd +Avalons." + +Lorimer's answering laugh was slightly bitter. + +"What a social Philistine you are, Beatrix! Thayer is not so narrow." + +"Does that mean I am narrow?" she asked resentfully. + +"Yes, for a woman who frowned disapproval upon Sally Van Osdel's late +utterances." + +"Sally was talking of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. Mrs. Lloyd Avalons is not bad, +only foolish: Mr. Lloyd Avalons is both." She drew a long breath, as she +paused with her teeth shut upon her lower lip. Suddenly her chin began +to quiver, and two heavy tears slid down her cheeks. Then she rallied +swiftly, for she knew that all men hate domestic tears. "Sidney," she +said slowly and with an evident effort towards steadiness; "let's not +discuss this any more. I will go to mother's, and you may come for me +there, after your dinner is over. I wish you could go with me; but never +mind. Only, Sidney,--next time, please tell me a little sooner when you +make a dinner engagement, and then I shall know just how to fit my plans +into yours. And--?" She raised her eyes to meet his squarely. + +He understood. + +"Yes, dear girl, I will be careful," he said, as he drew her to his +side. + +For a moment, she stood there, passive. Then she went away out of the +room. + +Thayer was the last guest to arrive, that night, and when he entered the +room, he found that both host and _chef_ were anxiously awaiting his +coming. He had spent the past two hours with Arlt, listening to scraps +of the completed overture, suggesting, praising, criticising it with an +acumen which surprised even the young composer, though he was fast +learning to attribute omniscience to his friend. After the shabby room +with its half-light, after the intent earnestness of Arlt, Thayer felt a +passing dislike of the gorgeousness and glare and frivolity of the +dinner. He was the last man to assert that good art can only associate +itself with homely origins, that prosperity is a deadly foe to its +growth. Nevertheless, he was fully conscious that Arlt in his meagre +surroundings was much nearer to his own ideals than were the immaculate +guests of the evening. Thayer loved luxury; but it must not be +accompanied by empty-headedness. + +Thayer had had a definite purpose in accepting his invitation, that +night, a purpose which was quite alien to his mental estimate of his +host. Dudley, to his mind, was in some respects a shade or two better +than Lloyd Avalons, yet many shades worse in that his caddishness came +from deliberate choice, not from lack of training. In any case, Thayer +prayed that he might be remote from either of them, at table. + +He quickly discovered that his prayer had been unavailing. He found +himself at the host's right hand, with Lorimer directly opposite. Lloyd +Avalons was next to Lorimer, and, as the dinner progressed by easy +stages, Thayer became aware that his purpose in coming was about to be +put to the test. The dinner was good and abundant; the wines were better +and yet more abundant, and Lloyd Avalons, who appeared to be constructed +of some material which alcohol was powerless to attack, saw to it that +Lorimer's glass was filled as often as his own. The result was +inevitable. Before Lloyd Avalons felt the slightest exhilaration, +Lorimer's brown cheeks were stained with red, and his voice was mounting +by semitones, then by whole tones, while his accent took on a curiously +insistent note which was quite foreign to the trivial subjects of +discussion. + +"How did it happen that you were at Eton, Lorimer?" Dudley asked, at the +end of an unnecessarily long story. + +"My father took me over. He was at St. James, you know, and he thought I +would find more fellows of my own class at Eton than up here at +Andover." + +"That's modest of you, Lorimer," someone called, from the foot of the +table. "But please remember that I'm an Andover man." + +"And even then wouldn't they accept you for the ministry?" Lorimer asked +promptly. + +The man laughed with perfect good-temper. Already he was two glasses +ahead of Lorimer; but no outward sign betrayed the fact. + +"I am willing to bet that they kept you more strict at Eton than the +Doctor kept us." + +Lorimer set down his glass and gave a knowing wink which, at another +time, he would have been swift to condemn in his left-hand neighbor. + +"They tried; but they couldn' do much about it. Besides, there was +college, you know." + +"We all have experienced university discipline," Dudley suggested. "It +is swift and powerful, and nobody ever knows where it will hit next." + +Lorimer appeared to be pondering the matter. Then he turned to Lloyd +Avalons. + +"D' you ever 'sperience university discipline?" he demanded, with grave +anxiety. + +Lloyd Avalons flushed angrily, and Thayer judged that it was time to +interpose. + +"University discipline is more a matter of theory than of fact," he said +lightly. "If you want real discipline, you'd better go through a course +of voice training. How much was my allowance, the last of the time in +Berlin, Lorimer? My salamanders were mere tadpoles." + +Lorimer caught at the familiar word. + +"_Ein! Zwei! Drei! Salamander! Salamander! Salamander!_" he cried +gayly. "It makesh me homesick for the good ol' days in Berlin." + +"You were over, in January; weren't you?" Lloyd Avalons asked. + +"Yes, aft' a fashion; but 't wasn' the ol' fashion. A studen' an' a +married man's two differen' things. I took Mrs. Lorimer everywhere an' +to show her grat'tude she took me in han'." And Lorimer's own laugh rang +out merrily at what seemed to him a superlatively good joke. + +The next moment, Thayer's level voice, low, yet so perfectly trained +that it reached the farthest corner of the room, broke in upon Lorimer's +mirth and quenched it. There was no bitterness in his voice, no +excitement; he spoke as quietly as if he had been wishing his friend +good-morning. + +"It's a pity she isn't here to take you in hand now, Lorimer," he said, +with a smile. "As long as she isn't, I think perhaps I'll do it, +myself." + +The deliberate, even tone steadied Lorimer somewhat. He pulled himself +together and stared haughtily at Thayer. + +"What do you mean?" he demanded. "I don't understand you." + +There was a short silence while it pleased Lorimer to imagine that he +was measuring his puny strength against the power of the other. Then, +before Thayer's gray eyes, his own eyes drooped. + +"I think you do understand, Lorimer," Thayer said calmly. "If not, we +can talk it over outside. You know we are due at Mrs. Dane's at ten, and +it is almost that, now. Dudley, I am sorry that this is good-by for so +long. Don't let us break up the party." And, rising, he nodded to the +other guests and took his departure without a backward glance. + +He had reckoned accurately, for experience had taught him to know his +man. Lorimer sat still for a moment, then hesitated, and rose. He bade +an over-cordial good-night to Dudley and Lloyd Avalons, exchanged with +the others a jesting word or two of which the humor was obviously +forced; then he sullenly followed Thayer out of the room and out of the +club. + +Once safely in the street, Thayer freed his mind, forcibly and tersely +according to his wont. + +"It's bad enough to fall into temptation, Lorimer; but the fellow who +deliberately canters into it comes mighty near not being worth the +saving. Some day, you'll wake up to find the truth of that fact; and +then Heaven help you, for there may not be anyone else willing to take +the trouble!" + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + + +Slowly and by almost imperceptible stages, spring had crept into summer +and summer had crawled sluggishly into autumn. Rose color had turned to +green, green to gold, and then all colors had faded to the uniform gray +of November. To Beatrix it seemed that nature's change typified that of +her life; to Thayer and Arlt the rose color and the gold were still +glowing. For the time being, the problems of their professional lives +were absorbing them both, to the exclusion of more human interests. Such +epochs are bound to come to every man. However broad and generous-minded +he may be, there are hours when it seems to him that the rising of the +sun and the going down of the same are functions of nature ordained +merely for the sake of giving chronological record of his own +professional advancement. November brought them both to this mood and, +while it lasted, each found the other his only satisfactory companion. + +To Thayer the summer had been a matter of personal mathematics, the +solving of simultaneous personal equations. He had refused the +Lorimers' urgent invitation to join them at Monomoy. He had felt unequal +to prolong the double strain he had endured, those last weeks in town +before society broke up for the summer. It was almost unbearable to him +to be within daily reach of Beatrix, to be forced to face her with the +unvarying conventional smile of mere social acquaintance. It was +infinitely worse to be forced to look on and watch the gradual wrecking +of her hopes, to know that she was unhappy, discouraged and full of fear +for the future, and to realize that another man was carelessly bringing +upon her all this from which he would have given his own life to shield +her. Yet bad and worse were subordinated to worst. The worst, the most +unbearable phase of the whole situation lay in the knowledge, again and +again brought to the proof, that he himself was the only living person +who had the ability to hold Lorimer even approximately steady, that in a +way the thread of his destiny was knotted together with that of Beatrix. +He loved her absolutely, and the only proof of his love for her must lie +in his strange power to make more tolerable for her the galling yoke of +her marriage to another man. + +Even in these few short months, it had become evident to the world that +the yoke was a galling one. Beatrix wore it bravely, even haughtily. +Nevertheless, it was chafing her until she was raw. Like a horse +surprised by the discovery of its own power, from occasional friskiness, +Lorimer was settling into a steadily increasing pace. During the months +of probation, he had held himself fairly steady, rather than lose the +chance of winning Beatrix for his wife. Now that she was won, he snapped +the check he had put upon himself, and yielded to the acquired momentum +gained during his self-imposed repression. By the time he came home from +Europe, Bobby and Thayer both realized that something was amiss. By the +first of June, it was an open secret that all was not well with +Lorimer's soul. + +Lorimer still loved Beatrix with all the fervor of his nature. To him, +she was the one and only woman in the world, someone to be caressed and +indulged and played with, the comrade of his domestic hours. But, when +the other mood was upon him, he acknowledged no right upon her part to +offer advice or warning. He treated her as one treats a spoiled child, +fondling her until her presence bored him or interfered with his other +plans, then quietly setting her aside and going his own way alone. As +far as any woman could have held him, Beatrix could have done so; but +in Lorimer's life feminine influence was finite. When he was moved to +take the bits in his teeth, only a man, and but one man at that, was +able to check him. That man was Cotton Mather Thayer. + +On a few occasions, Beatrix had endeavored to hold her husband, not from +temptation itself, but from the first steps towards it. She might as +well have tried to bar the rising tide with a pint sieve. At such times, +it seemed to her that Lorimer deliberately made up his mind to have a +revel, that he set himself to work to carry out his desires to a +satisfactory conclusion. These periods came at irregular intervals; but, +all in all, the intervals were shortening and the revels were +increasing. Beatrix learned their symptoms far too quickly; she learned +to know the depression and irritability which greeted her every effort +to rouse and to please him. It was at such times that Lorimer made +bitter revolt against what he termed her narrowness and prejudice, or +burst into occasional angry petulance, if she tried to urge him to cut +loose from the club and from the constantly-growing influence of Lloyd +Avalons who was discerning enough to discover that Lorimers appetite was +a possible lever by which he himself might pry himself up into a more +stable position in society. In this matter, however, Lloyd Avalons was +not quite so unprincipled as he seemed. To his mind, there was nothing +so very bad about a little matter of social intoxication. The evil of +drink was an affair bounded by purely geographical lines, and he +encouraged in Lorimer the very thing for which he would have been prompt +to dismiss the man who cleaned the snow off his sidewalk. + +Afterwards, when the depression had ended in the revel, when they both +had ended in penitence, Lorimer temporarily came back again to the old +ways. The caressing intonations returned to his voice, as he talked to +Beatrix; his eyes followed her with loving pride, as she moved about the +room; for days at a time he devoted himself to her wishes, serving her +with a tireless chivalry which made her long to forget all that had gone +before. However, Beatrix could not forget certain facts; certain +episodes were so fixed in her memory that they seemed branded upon the +very tissue of her life. In some respects, these intervening days were +the hardest ones she had to bear. Lorimer seemed totally unable to grasp +the fact that any permanent barrier was rising between them, that there +was any real reason why they should not meet on precisely the old +ground. To his mind, half an hour of impulsive penitence could wipe out +half a night of deliberate sin, and Beatrix dared not explain to him +that it was otherwise. Her hold over him, that hold which once she had +deemed so strong, was growing slighter with every passing month. Any +hasty or ill-considered word from her might have the effect of +destroying it altogether. For the present, the most she could do, was to +avoid antagonizing him; and even that was no easy task. She was quite +unable to decide whether it took more self-control to accept in silence +his petulance or his caresses. Meanwhile, she was thankful for the +apparently growing friendship between Thayer and her husband. During +late May and all of June, Thayer was with Lorimer almost daily, and +Lorimer came nearest to his old, winning self on the days when he had +been longest in company with Thayer. + +With the general scattering of people which heralds the coming of +summer, it seemed to Thayer that, for the time being, Lorimer's danger +was over, and it was with a sigh of utter relief that he saw Lorimer and +Beatrix starting for Monomoy. Strong as he was, Thayer had felt the +strain of the past six weeks; and it was good to hide himself with Arlt +in a Canadian fishing village, dismiss his responsibilities to his +neighbor, and give himself up to absolute idleness and much good music. + +He had planned to spend August and September in Germany; but fate willed +otherwise. Less than a week before he was to sail, he received a laconic +epistle from Bobby Dane, dated at the hotel where he himself had spent +the previous summer. + + "DEAR THAYER,--Wish you could come down here for August. Lorimer is + raising the deuce, and I can't do much with him. Besides, I am + ordered back, next week. I suppose the devil needs my + ministrations. I'll see to one, if you'll tackle the other. + + Yours, + R. F. DANE." + +Thayer hesitated for three minutes. Then he wrote two telegrams. One was +to the office of the steamship company. The other was to the hotel near +Monomoy. + +The reaction which followed, was a natural one. Late in September, +Thayer returned to New York, preparatory to a concert tour through New +England. Exhausted by the long strain of mastering both himself and +Lorimer, he threw himself into his work with a feverish intensity which +astounded Arlt and roused his audiences to the highest pitch of +enthusiasm. Thayer took his new honors quietly, however. In his secret +heart, he knew that this had been the simplest way to work off his +stored-up emotions, and he reached New York, early in November, with a +greater reputation and steadier nerves than he had even dared to hope. + +The tour had been a prosperous one for Arlt, as well. Upon several +occasions, he had met with marked favor, and the little touch of success +had reacted upon his personality, rendering him more at ease, more +masterful with his audience. To be popular, art must be modest; but woe +betide it, if it be in the least deprecating! However, Arlt was learning +to face his public with a fairly good grace, and his public showed +itself willing to smile back at him in a thoroughly friendly fashion. + +Arlt's overture was to have its first hearing, the week before +Thanksgiving. The matter had been arranged through the influence of his +teacher, and Arlt had been invited to conduct the orchestra for the +event. However, in spite of his added ease, Arlt had judged such an +ordeal too great for his courage. Accordingly, the teacher and Thayer +had taken council together, with the result that Thayer was engaged as +soloist for the evening, and that Thayer insisted upon singing one +group of songs with a piano accompaniment. To this minor detail, Arlt +had been forced to submit, although he was shrewd enough to see that it +was merely a ruse on the part of his teacher to bring him in person +before his audience. + +The arrangement of these details, the orchestral rehearsals of the +overture and his own rehearsals with Arlt were engrossing Thayer +completely. Heart and soul, he was working for the boy's success, for he +realized that into this simple overture Arlt had put the very best of +himself, that the young composer's happiness was bound up in the success +or failure of his maiden effort. The creative power had come upon him; +he had worked to the utmost limit with the material ready to his brain. +Now he was waiting to have the world pass judgment whether his work was +worth the doing, whether he should keep on, or turn his back upon his +chosen path. Thayer's own plans, too, were maturing. In the watching +them develop, in the helping Arlt to pass the time of waiting, he almost +succeeded in forgetting the Lorimers. Almost; but not quite. The +forgetting was a little too intentional to be entirely complete. He met +them rarely. Society had not yet organized its winter campaign, and it +was still possible for a man to go his own individual way. Just now, +Thayer's own individual way led him almost daily in the direction of +Washington Square. + +He was in Arlt's room, one evening, less than a week before the concert. +He had been dining with Miss Gannion; but he had left her early, in +order to impress upon Arlt that he must accept his bidding to the supper +which the Lorimers were to give after the concert. The invitations had +been noncommittal, and Arlt had announced his intention of declining his +own, on the plea of being too tired with his overture to care to do +anything more, that night. Miss Gannion had told Thayer what he already +half suspected, that Beatrix was really giving this supper in Arlt's +honor and that it was to be the first large affair of the season, in the +hope of focussing public attention upon the boy at the very moment of +his having proved his real genius as composer. Thayer appreciated to the +full the gracious kindliness of the plan, and he had excused himself to +Miss Gannion and hurried away in search of Arlt, devoutly praying, as he +went, that the note of regret might not be already on its way. + +He was but just in time. The sealed note lay on the table, and Arlt was +shrugging himself into his overcoat, when Thayer entered the room. Ten +minutes later, they were still arguing the matter, when they heard an +unfamiliar step coming up the stairs. + +"Mr. Arlt?" A strange voice followed the knock. + +Arlt opened the door hospitably. The dim light in the hallway showed him +a figure known to every opera singer in America and half of Europe. + +"Will you come in?" he asked, in some surprise. + +"Is Mr. Thayer here?" + +"I am." Thayer stepped into the lighted doorway. "You wished me?" + +"Yes. What is more, I need you. We know each other well by sight, so I +suppose there is no call for us to waste time on introductions. Mr. +Thayer, Principali, one of my best baritones, is ill and is forced to +cancel his engagements. Will you take his place?" + +Thayer meditated swiftly, during a moment of silence. + +"What are the operas?" + +"Wagner, _Faust_ of course, and--oh, the usual run of extras." + +"What reason have you to think that I am fitted for your vacancy?" +Thayer asked directly. + +The impresario smiled. + +"Your old master in Berlin is one of my most intimate friends. He gave +you a letter of introduction to me, I think?" The accent was +interrogative, although it was plain that only one answer was expected. + +"He did," Thayer assented quietly. + +"Yes, and I have been waiting for more than a year in the hope that you +would present it. Since you will not come to me, I am at last driven to +go in search of you." + +Thayer bowed gravely in recognition of the implied compliment. He +realized that he was suddenly facing a question which might affect his +whole after life, and he was too much in earnest to waste words on mere +conventional phrases. He liked the old man, and he felt a swift, burning +longing to accept his offer. It had come unsought, unexpected. Was not +fate in it; and was not a man always justified in following out his +fate? To accept it would be in a great measure to cut himself off from +his present social life. An operatic engagement would engross him +completely. All in all, it might be better so. And yet, there was +something to be said upon the other side. Was he justified in working +out his own professional salvation at the certain cost of the damnation +of another soul? That was what it amounted to in the long run. If he +went into opera, he must separate himself from all connection with +Sidney Lorimer. He could not take the time to visit Lorimer's world; it +would be sure and swift destruction to Lorimer, if he were to set foot +within the new world which Thayer was preparing to enter. Thayer +realized that the horns of his dilemma were long and curving. The offer +tempted him sorely; yet, for some unaccountable reason, he shrank from +turning his back upon Lorimer. And, besides, if Beatrix-- + +"How long would you need me?" + +"The entire season." + +"How soon?" + +"In _Faust_, on the tenth of next month." + +"In _Faust_?" + +The impresario saw that Thayer was hesitating. The idea of Faust plainly +attracted him, and the impresario hastily followed up the advantage. + +"Yes, we want you for _Valentine_." + +"My favorite part," Thayer said, half to himself. + +The impresario smiled serenely. He felt no question now as to the +outcome of his errand. + +"Calve will sing _Marguerite_; it will be a good cast. After that, we +shall need you, two or three times a week, and the salary--" + +Impatiently Thayer brushed his words aside. + +"How soon must you have my answer?" + +"To-night." + +"Very well. Then, no." + +The impresario straightened up in his chair. + +"Mr. Thayer!" he remonstrated. + +"It is impossible for me to bind myself for an entire season, without +more time to think the matter over," Thayer said quietly. + +"But it is important that I should know, in order to make my other +arrangements." + +"Then you would better consider it settled in the negative," Thayer +returned. + +The impresario wavered. + +"How much time do you need?" he asked a little impatiently. + +"I must have a week." + +"Impossible." + +"Very well, then. But I thank you for the honor you have done me in +asking me to fill the place." + +Thayer rose with an air of decision, and the impresario could do nothing +else than follow his example. At the door, he turned back. + +"Mr. Thayer, there is no use in my trying to conceal the fact that I +want you badly. If I will wait until a week from to-night, will you give +me your answer then?" + +"I will," Thayer replied imperturbably. + +"And sign the contracts on the spot?" + +"I will," Thayer repeated; "but remember this: in the meantime, I am +binding myself to nothing. Good-night." + +He went down the stairs with the impresario. When he returned to Arlt's +room, a moment later, he took up the conversation at the precise point +where they had dropped it; but, even in the dusky room, Arlt could see +that Thayer's eyes were blazing as he had never seen them till then. Not +long afterwards, Thayer glanced down at his own strong, slim hand that +rested on the table beside him. The fingers were moving restlessly and, +on the back, the cords twitched a little now and then. Thayer watched it +curiously for a moment. Then he clasped his hands on his knee and held +them there, motionless. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + + +Above the murmur of talk of his guests, Lorimer's voice rose, high and +clear, merry as the voice of a happy child. + +"It's a great night for you, Arlt, the night of your life. Ladies and +ge'men, le's drink to Mr. Arlt." + +"You've done it once, Lorimer," Thayer interposed. "Arlt will be getting +more than is good for him." + +"And so will you," he might have added; but there seemed to him a +certain impossibility in imposing a check upon a man in his own house +and in the presence of his own guests. + +Lorimer laughed out blithely. + +"Ne' mind. Arlt can stand it; his head is level. B'sides, las' time, I +drank to Arlt the composer. This time, it's to Arlt the accompanist. He +hasn' any business to play a double role, if he can' stan' the double +applause. To the success of Mr. Otto Arlt!" + +Thayer raised his glass and set it down again, untasted. As he glanced +across at Arlt with an explanatory smile, he caught the eyes of Beatrix +fixed upon him imploringly. It was evident that she was putting her hope +in him to end the scene; but for the once Thayer was ready to confess +himself beaten. The house and the champagne both were Lorimer's. Under +these conditions, he was powerless to act. Moreover, he felt a sudden +impatience with Beatrix for allowing the champagne in her own home, when +she had learned from months of bitter experience that a single glass +could render Lorimer totally untrustworthy. If this were the measure of +her influence for good, she might as well have married Lorimer in the +first place, without insisting upon those long months of probation. As +he had watched the progress of that merry supper in Arlt's honor, Thayer +had been distressed about Lorimer and about the scene which must +inevitably follow; but his distress had been as nothing in comparison +with his disappointment in Beatrix. + +In reality, Beatrix had had no responsibility in the matter. + +"I don't see any need of our having champagne, Sidney," she had said, on +the morning that they had first discussed the detail of the supper. + +Lorimer had been in one of his old-time moods. Now he laughed a little. + +"What a Puritan you are, Beatrix!" he said, as he bent caressingly over +her shoulder to read the completed list of guests. + +"Not a Puritan," she urged; "but I would rather not have the champagne, +Sidney. It isn't at all necessary; we can get on perfectly well without +it." + +"And a good deal better with it," he retorted, laughing. "Well, never +mind it now, dear girl. But what about a florist?" + +And Beatrix, delighted at her easy victory, had allowed herself to be +led off into a consideration of the decorations for the table. She could +not be expected to foresee that, in giving the final orders for the +supper, Lorimer would include a generous allowance of champagne. Neither +could she have foreseen that one of the invitations would find its way +into the hands of Lloyd Avalons. Confronted suddenly by both the +champagne and Lloyd Avalons, Beatrix had faltered only for a moment. +Then she had rallied to meet the inevitable crisis so swiftly that no +one but Bobby Dane at her elbow had been aware of her momentary +weakness. Thayer had been at the other end of the room, and had missed +the instant of hesitation. By the time he had discovered the situation, +Beatrix had forced herself to meet it as a matter of course. She +faltered a second time, however, as she met the questioning glance which +Thayer gave her. She had learned to care for his good opinion; she knew +that now she was in danger of forfeiting it. Nevertheless, her loyalty +to her husband was paramount. Never by a spoken word had she implied to +Thayer that Lorimer was falling below her ideals. To-night, hurt as she +was by his deception, anxious as she was in regard to the outcome of the +episode, nevertheless she remained true to her usual careful reticence. +To a woman of Beatrix Lorimer's temper it was easier to bear unjust +blame than to demand just pity. And yet, as she recognized that the +facts were apparently all against her, she could not help hoping that +Thayer would suspend judgment until he had talked with Bobby Dane. Bobby +had seen the memoranda for the supper, and had advised her in regard to +some of the details. Not only was he the one person besides herself and +Lorimer who knew the whole truth; but he could invariably be relied upon +to tell the truth in its entirety. + +As Lorimer had said, it was a great night for Arlt. His work had scored +a complete success, and he had been called twice before the audience to +receive in person his applause. Something in the simple overture had +caught the fancy of the orchestra, and they had played it with an +enthusiasm, had interpreted it with a dainty accuracy to Arlt's own mood +which would have won prompt recognition for a work of far less merit. +The critics were warm in their praises; but the audience, upon whom a +popular success depends far more than upon the professional leaders of +opinion, was in a mood to be expressed by no such temperate phrase. As +he lingered in the Lorimers' box, watching the young German come forward +to the footlights, Thayer was ready to predict a fair measure of lasting +popularity to his friend. The audience was most hospitable to him. It +now remained for the Lorimers' supper to set upon him the seal of social +approval. For Arlt's sake, Thayer devoutly hoped that the supper would +be a success. Under other conditions, he might have had his doubts. This +was the first time he had seen Lorimer for weeks; but the stories which +had drifted to his ears had not been reassuring. In Lorimer's own house, +however, there could be no danger. He felt that he could count upon +Beatrix to forestall that. + +In the weeks since they had met, it seemed to him that Beatrix must have +grown more beautiful with each passing day. Beneath the perfect poise +of her manner, he could see an increasing gentleness, a sadness which +was under absolute control. She was as strong as ever, but less +self-reliant. Experience had taught her that she was powerless to fight +alone. In her worst battles, she had learned that she must rely upon +another; and Thayer, as he watched her, rejoiced that that other was +himself. His weeks of separation from her, of enforced forgetfulness, +had taught him a lesson which he had been loath to learn. Rather than be +outside her world, rather than be upon the same footing as all the other +inhabitants of that world, he would gladly endure a strain like that of +the past summer, would accept the place where fate had put him, as the +one man who could make more tolerable her own life with her husband. It +was not a dignified position; yet, for her sake, he believed that he +could fill it in a way which would add dignity to the lives of them +both. At least, he would do the best that was in him. He took no account +of the possibility that, within an hour, he would be balked in his +efforts by certain uninfringible laws of hospitality. + +"Moreover," Lorimer went on, still in that unwonted high, clear voice; +"le's drink to Arlt's mother an' sister, Frau Arlt an' Fraulein Katarina +Arlt." + +The sudden angry color blazed up in Arlt's cheeks, and he straightened +in his chair. Then he caught Thayer's eye, and with an effort he +controlled himself. The instant's by-play had caused Thayer to lose the +next words of his host; but Lorimer's laugh was ringing out with such +infectious mirth that the guests were laughing with him, although with +obvious reluctance to show their merriment. + +Lorimer babbled on discursively. + +"I knew 'em well. They were having har' times to get on, an' Arlt here +could n' begin to carry the load. It was killing him, an' so Thayer an' +I--" + +"Let the rest go, Lorimer," Thayer broke in hastily, for now two +appealing faces were looking to him for help. "We know all about it." + +Lorimer turned to him with an air of grave rebuke. + +"You know, Thayer, for you were there. But the res' do' know. How could +they? They were n' there." He paused long enough to empty the glass +before him. Then he braced one hand against the edge of the table and +raised the other, as if to add emphasis to his words. "I was there, an' +you were there, an' Arlt was there. Nobody else was there. If they had +been, they'd know 'bout it, to-night. Plucky fellow, Arlt, an' he +d'serves his success. If 't had n' been for you an' me, Thayer, Arlt +would have gone under, though. No wond' Frau Arlt calls me _Lieb Sohn_. +If it had n' been for me, she would n' have had any _sohn_ 't all. With +me, there's pair of us." + +He delivered himself of this long speech with an air of portentous +gravity. Then he turned away from Thayer and smiled benignly up the +table. Side by side at the farther end, Arlt and Beatrix seemed +powerless to take their eyes from his face. Lorimer caught the eye of +Beatrix and instantly his face lighted, as he kissed his hand to her. + +"Supper's a gran' success, dear girl," he called gayly. "Ought to be, +cost 'nough, an' has been no end trouble; but it pays. People will know +wha' we think of Arlt now. He's geniush, 'n no mishtake; are n' you, +Arlt?" + +"Bobby," Sally whispered; "I must go away, I can't bear this for another +minute." + +Bobby nodded comprehendingly. + +"Slip out, the next time he begins on Thayer. I think you can do it, and +you oughtn't to stay. I wish the others would go, too." + +"They may follow me. I would break it up, if I dared; but--Bobby, I'm +afraid." + +"So am I," Bobby growled through his shut teeth. "Come back in the +morning, Sally. Beatrix may need you. I'd go with you now; but I dare +not leave things." + +But Lorimer's eye was upon them. + +"Wha' now, Sally?" he asked jovially. "Bobby been making a bad pun, that +you look so savage?" + +Sally hesitated. For one instant, she eyed her host as if he had been a +scorpion that had crawled across her path. Then she controlled herself, +and her voice took on its customary mocking drawl. + +"No; I only feel savage because I know you must have set the clocks +ahead. Just see! It is high time we all were going home, and you know I +always hate to start." + +Lorimer glanced at the clock on the mantel. Then he turned to the man +behind his chair. + +"Stop tha' clock!" he commanded. "We can' have anybody talk 'bout going +home yet. Night's only jus' begun, an' there's quarts more champagne. +Beatrix did n' wan' us to have any; but I don' believe in being stingy." + +Sally had already risen, and one or two other women, casting furtive, +apologetic glances towards Beatrix, were hurriedly following Sally's +example. In the slight confusion, it seemed to Thayer that his chance +had come, and he took it. Unfortunately, however, for the once he had +reckoned without his man. He had kept careful count of the glasses which +Lorimer had emptied since he had sat down at the table, and he knew that +the danger limit was not far distant. In fact, the danger limit was +already passed. Thayer had had no means of taking into account the +glasses which Lorimer had slyly emptied, during his short absence from +the room before they had gone to the table. The mischief was already +done. The slightest shock which could disturb Lorimer's present mood +would be sufficient to destroy his whole mental balance past any +possibility of restoration. Thayer's error in judgment promptly +furnished the shock. + +Lorimer had turned again to the butler at the back of his chair. + +"Fill thish up," he demanded, as he pointed to his glass. + +With a swift gesture, Thayer caught the man's attention, and shook his +head. The man hesitated, halting between two masters. The one paid him +his wages; the other commanded his entire respect, and it was not easy +for him to choose the one whom he should obey. + +"Fill thish up, I shay!" Lorimer's voice was thicker, his accent +imperious. + +Swiftly the old butler glanced at Thayer as if for instructions, and +Thayer again shook his head. This time, Lorimer saw the signal. The next +instant, his empty glass was flying straight in the direction of +Thayer's face. + +There was a frightened outcry from the women; but Thayer swerved +slightly to one side, and the glass crashed harmlessly against the +mantel. There followed the tinkle of the falling pieces, then a +stillness so profound that from one end to the other of the long room +Lorimer's heavy breathing was distinctly audible. The impending crisis +seemed to paralyze the guests. Those who had risen, stood motionless in +their places; the others made no effort to rise. They remained there +together, silent, passive, tense, with Lorimer facing them all, like a +savage beast at bay. + +[Illustration: "Beatrix still sat at the disordered table"] + +The interval, seemingly so endless, lasted only for a moment. Then, with +a beast-like snarl, Lorimer sprang up, overturning his chair, and hurled +himself straight upon Thayer. Strong as he was, Thayer tottered before +the blow, for the strength of Lorimer just then was far beyond the +human. Drink-crazed and brutalized, he had the fierce power of a +maddened brute. There was a swift, sharp struggle, broken by strange, +inarticulate cries, making the women hide their faces and cram their +fingers into their ears to shut out sight and sound. Then the struggle +grew still again, and they heard Thayer's steady voice saying,-- + +"I think he is quiet now. Dane, will you help me to carry him to his +room?" + +One by one, the terrified guests slank away. There were no good-nights +scarcely a whispered word in the dressing-rooms upstairs. At length, +they were all gone, and the house was still. The lights from the open +windows glared out across the night, and the rooms inside were heavy +with the fragrance of roses and the smell of champagne. Upstairs in +Lorimer's room, Thayer and Bobby Dane were watching the lethargic sleep +which had fallen upon their host, and counting the moments until Arlt +could bring the doctor back with him. Downstairs, alone in the abandoned +dining-room, Beatrix still sat at the disordered table, with her head +bowed forward upon her clasped hands. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + + +"It's a devilish mess, do what you will," Bobby said grimly, the next +morning. + +"The punishment seems a good deal out of proportion to the cause," +Thayer replied briefly. + +"Hh!" Bobby grunted. "I think he did well to get off without a genuine +case of D. T." + +"I was speaking of your cousin, not of Lorimer." + +Bobby stared at him in astonishment. + +"Really, Thayer, I can't see any cause that was of Beatrix's making," he +returned haughtily. + +"It was mistaken judgment, to say the least, to have champagne in the +house," Thayer answered. + +"Beatrix had nothing to do with that," Bobby blazed forth angrily. "It +was that brute of a Lorimer, and he deserves all he got, and more, too. +I saw the order to the caterer, made out in Beatrix's handwriting, and +there wasn't a pint of champagne on it. Lorimer sent in the order +afterwards, just as he invited that serpent of a Lloyd Avalons. Beatrix +couldn't help herself." + +"She could have countermanded the order." + +"She didn't know it till the guests were there. I was with her when she +discovered it, and she took it like a heroine. She was perfectly +helpless. She couldn't make a scene in her own house, and she couldn't +reasonably be expected to send her guests home. She knew exactly what +was bound to happen, what she couldn't help happening, and she kept her +head steady and faced the thing as boldly as she could. I never thought +you would be the one to go back on her, Thayer." + +Thayer started to speak. Then he squared his jaw, and was silent. After +a long interval, he said humbly,-- + +"I have wronged your cousin, Dane. I am very sorry." + +"So am I," Bobby returned flatly. "Beatrix has come to where she needs +every friend she owns in the world to stand by her. By to-night, the +story of that supper will have spread from the Battery to Poughkeepsie +bridge. It will be garbled and twisted into all manner of shapes, and it +will come boomeranging back at her from every quarter of the town. When +it comes to gossip, we find Manhattan Island is a mighty small place; +but I suppose Australia is just as bad." + +Thayer interrupted his meditations ruthlessly. + +"How is Lorimer, this morning? You've been to the house, I suppose." + +"Yes, I've just come from there. Lorimer is convalescent, which means he +is a blamed sight better than he deserves to be. I didn't care to see +him; but they assured me he was sitting up and regaling himself on raw +oysters and chicken broth. He is probably an edifying spectacle by this +time, a mush of maudlin penitence. I've seen him before this in his +next-morning mood. Put not your trust in a moral jellyfish!" And Bobby, +his fists in his pockets, stamped up and down the room to ease his +resentment. "The next move is to be a radical one," he continued, after +a pause. "They are going into the Adirondacks." + +Thayer looked up sharply. + +"They? Who?" + +"Beatrix and Lorimer." + +"What for?" + +"Safety; taking to the woods, and all that." + +"What do you mean, Dane?" Thayer asked sternly. "This is no time for +joking. Do speak out." + +"I beg your pardon, Thayer. The fact is, I am utterly reckless, this +morning, and I don't know nor care what I am saying. If you loved +Beatrix as I do--" + +"Yes," Thayer returned quietly. "I understand." + +"No; you don't. You can't. We've been such chums. What hurts her, hurts +me; and, to my dying day, I shall never forget her as we found her in +the dining-room, last night. She knew then it was all over." Bobby's +voice broke upon the last words; then he pulled himself up sharply. +"This morning, we had a council of war, Mrs. Dane and Beatrix and the +doctor and I. The doctor says that Beatrix isn't well, and that another +such scene would kill her, or worse. I was for shutting Lorimer up in an +inebriate asylum; but Beatrix opposed the idea. She was so excited about +it that the doctor finally took sides with her, and said that she and +Lorimer would better not be separated, at least, not until something +else comes up. Do you grasp the pleasant state of things? Lorimer is to +be left with her till something does come up; when the something does +come, it may kill her. That's what they call an alternative, I suppose." + +"But the Adirondacks?" Thayer reminded him. It was unlike Bobby Dane to +go off like this into conversational blind alleys. Thayer, as he +listened and looked at his friend's haggard face, realized suddenly that +Bobby was far less superficial than was generally supposed. + +"The doctor ordered them both out of town. It is the only way to keep +Lorimer out of mischief, get him into the wilderness to live on venison +and bromides. We chose the Adirondacks because it was near and safe, and +because we could tell people that Beatrix needed the air. Of course, +they'll know we are lying; but we may as well lie valiantly and +plausibly, while we are about it." + +"When do they go?" + +"Monday." + +"Who goes?" + +"They hire a cottage, and take enough servants to run it. Then there +will be a man for Lorimer. The doctor insisted upon that." + +"Who else?" + +"Beatrix and Lorimer." + +"And Mrs. Dane?" + +"No; no one else." + +"You don't mean that Mrs. Lorimer is going up into that wilderness +alone?" + +"Alone with her liege lord," Bobby said bitterly. + +"But she mustn't. It's not safe." + +"Who can go? Mrs. Dane is not strong; she would only be an extra care +for Beatrix." + +"Mr. Dane, then." + +"He's no use. I would go, myself; but I can't well get off. Besides, +Lorimer hates me, and my being there would only make it harder for +Beatrix. Do you really think she ought to have someone?" Bobby's voice +was anxious. + +"For nine days, no; for the tenth, yes," Thayer said decidedly. "We both +know that, some time or other, Lorimer is bound to go on another spree. +No; there's no use in being too hard on him. The time has passed, if it +ever existed, when he was as responsible as you would be, or I. It's in +his blood, and he has lost all his nerve to fight it out. But, when that +spree comes, if it comes while they are up there, Mrs. Lorimer must have +someone to stand back of her. Who is there?" + +Bobby shook his head. + +"I don't know," he confessed. "I would go, if I could; but I can't." + +There was a long silence between the two men. Thayer, sitting at his +desk, was absently measuring his blotting pad with a letter, so many +envelopes' length this way, so many that. The letter was from the +impresario, reminding him that his decision was due, that night, and +urging him to accept the offer. At length, Thayer turned around away +from the desk, and faced Bobby. + +"Is there a hotel near there?" he asked. + +"Half a mile away." + +"Open at this season?" + +"Yes, there are always cranks and consumptives, you know." + +Thayer faced back again and measured the blotter anew. Then he tossed +the letter aside and, rising, walked across to the mantel. + +"I think I'll go up there for a little while," he said briefly. + +"Thayer! You can't." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you mustn't. It's impossible." + +Thayer mistook his meaning. + +"I can't see the impossibility, Dane. Lorimer was--is my friend. I knew +him long before I ever heard of Mrs. Lorimer. I was their guest at +Monomoy for a month, last summer, too. We both of us know that I can +hold Lorimer, when nobody else can. I don't pretend to understand it, +myself; but the fact remains. All in all, I think I am the best possible +person to go." + +His voice was quiet, yet its every accent was final and uncompromising. +Before its dignity, Bobby felt like a rebuked child. He hastened to +justify himself. + +"I wasn't thinking of that at all, Thayer. The idea would have been an +insult both to you and to Beatrix. I know that Beatrix feels she can +rely on you to manage Lorimer; but nevertheless it is absolutely out of +the question for you to go." + +"Why?" + +"Your engagements for the winter." + +"I have made no engagements yet." + +"Is that a fact?" + +"As a general rule, I tell the truth," Thayer answered dryly. + +"Well, you are sure to make some." + +"Perhaps. When I do, it will be time enough for me to keep them." + +"But your reputation!" Bobby urged. + +"What of it?" + +"How is it going to stand your burying yourself in the wilderness, just +when you have the city at your feet?" + +"It will have to stand it. It will, if it is worth anything at all." + +"Thayer, you sha'n't!" Bobby protested. "It's Quixotic and idiotic. You +sha'n't spoil your own good life for the sake of Lorimer's bad one. He +isn't worth it." + +Thayer straightened his shoulders and threw back his head. + +"What about Mrs. Lorimer?" he asked steadily. + +The clock marked the passing seconds until hundreds of them had gone +away, never to return. Then Bobby crossed the room and laid his hand on +Thayer's shoulder. + +"Thayer," he said slowly; "you are a fool, an utterly asinine fool; but +I can't help wishing that there were a few more fools in the world just +like you." + +And in that instant, it flashed into Bobby Dane's mind that, ever since +he had first come to know Cotton Mather Thayer, he had been expecting +and awaiting just such a scene. + +Late that same afternoon, Miss Gannion's card was brought to Beatrix. +All that day, she had denied herself to callers; not even Sally Van +Osdel had been admitted. Ten minutes before Miss Gannion came, Beatrix +would have said that she too must be sent away; but, as she read the +name on the card, she felt a sudden impulsive longing to see her +old-time friend. + +Miss Gannion wasted no words on conventional greeting. + +"You dear child!" she said quietly. "I know a little about what has +happened; but it is all I need to know. Talk about it or not, just as +you choose." + +Urged or repressed, Beatrix would have held herself steady, reticent. +All day long, she had kept herself quiet, going through her usual +domestic routine, answering notes of invitation and then methodically +sorting out the clothing she would need during her absence from town. +She had refused her mother's help and she had sent away her maid; it was +a relief to her to keep busy. Left to herself and idle, the future +easily could have occupied her whole attention; but as yet she was not +strong enough to face it. Strange to say, there had been no benumbing +effect of her sorrow. From the first hour, she had been able to grasp +with dreary clearness all its details, all its effect upon the present +and upon the future which now to her was freighted with a double burden +of anxiety and alarm. + +All day long until late afternoon, she had forced this quiet upon +herself; but it could not go on indefinitely. Already the tug and wrench +upon her nerves was slackening, and Miss Gannion's words brought the +swift revulsion. The older woman shrank before the storm of passionate +sorrow. Then she braced herself to bear it, for she realized that it +was the flood which must inevitably follow the breaking down of the +dykes that for months had pent in the seas of a daily and hourly agony +such as a weaker soul than that of Beatrix could never know. + +It was long before Beatrix dared trust her voice to speak, and then Miss +Gannion was startled at the utter dreariness of her tone. + +"It has all been a horrible mistake," she said slowly. "I thought I was +stronger. I did believe that I could hold him, Miss Gannion. I didn't +rush into it carelessly, as most girls do. I knew all the danger. I +thought about it, and measured it against my strength and against the +strength of his love. I truly thought I could hold him." + +"I know, dear," Miss Gannion said gently. "I thought so, too." + +"But I couldn't. I did try, try my best. But it was no use. And yet, he +did love me, just as I did love him." + +"Did love?" Miss Gannion questioned, for Beatrix had paused, as if +challenging her. + +"Yes, did love. My love is dead, Miss Gannion." + +"But it may come back." + +"Never. It never can. He has killed it utterly. I am sorry. I don't +know why I am telling you, for no one else must know it, not even Sidney +himself. He doesn't suspect it at all now, and I mean that he never +shall. If I made the mistake in the first place, I ought to be the one +to suffer for it, not he." + +"But he loves you now," Miss Gannion said unsteadily. + +"To-day. Yesterday, he forgot me entirely; to-day, he cares for me just +as he always has done, no more, no less. I wish I could care for him; +but I can't. I feel perfectly cold, as if nothing more could ever warm +me." + +"But, in time--after you have forgotten last night--" + +Beatrix shook her head. + +"My love for Sidney did not die, last night. It was too strong, too much +alive, to be killed by the facts of one single night. No; it had been +ailing for months; but it finally died, six weeks ago, and nothing now +can ever make it live again. Miss Gannion, I have been very selfish." + +"I don't think so, Beatrix." + +But Beatrix gently drew herself out of Miss Gannion's arms, rose and +stood looking down at her friend. In that moment, confronted by +Beatrix's sad, calm face and luminous eyes, the little gray-haired +woman suddenly realized that, notwithstanding the difference in their +years, Beatrix was looking into mysteries which were far beyond her ken. + +"Yes, I was selfish," Beatrix went on steadily. "I loved Sidney; I was +happy in his love, and I believed that, through both our loves, I could +be strong enough to save him from himself. I knew it was a risk, a +terrible risk, but I took it for granted that the risk would come only +on myself, and, for both our sakes, I was willing to assume it. I was +nothing but a child, for all I felt so wise, and I stopped there, +without looking ahead. I was wrong, woefully, sinfully wrong. I was +selfish, for I thought of nothing beyond myself. Now that it is too +late, I am beginning to realize what it all may mean to the next +generation." + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + + + "_O the long and dreary Winter! + O the cold and cruel Winter!_" + +Thayer's voice was wonderfully rich and mellow, as he stood at the +window softly singing over to himself that haunting, tragic Famine Theme +from _The Death of Minnehaha_. Fresh from its weeks of resting, low, yet +suggesting an immeasurable reserve power, it had all its old throbbing +magnetism; but a new quality had been added to it. It had always had +moments of passionate appeal; now it had gained a sadness, a depth of +melancholy which in the past it had been powerless to express. A year +before, Thayer could strike the tragic note, never the pathetic. + +Nevertheless, the pathos was apparently merely a matter of the vocal +cords. The tall, alert, well-groomed man who stood at the snow-veiled +window in no way suggested being a candidate for sympathy. His eyes were +clear, his brows unfurrowed. Moreover, one could never dream of +condoling with the owner of such a voice. Taken quite by itself, its +possession would outweigh an almost infinite number of human woes. + + "_Ever thicker, thicker, thicker + Froze the ice on lake and river, + Ever deeper, deeper, deeper + Fell the snow_--" + +_Hiawatha's_ wigwam might well have been just beyond the spruce thicket, +Thayer reflected. The description was too accurate to be artistic; it +amounted to mere photography. As far as his own eyes could see, the +earth lay buried in a deep, soft blanket of snow, and the air above was +misty with flakes which neither fell nor scurried before the wind, but +hung apparently motionless in the still, cold air. All through the +preceding night, however, the wind had blown fiercely. The snow lay +heaped in heavy, irregular drifts across the open plain; but under the +trees it was rolled up into soft waves whose tops curled over as +daintily as the waves had curled over on the moonlit beach of Monomoy. +The lake was frozen over and snow-covered; but the creek that came +rushing down to meet it was too swift to be overtaken by the frost, and +it showed, an inky-dark, sinuous line of open water, winding away and +away among the trees, now losing itself in a thicket of alders, now +drawing a straight black mark across an open stretch of meadow where the +frost-flowers on its banks offered a delicate substitute for their +summer kin. + +Half a mile away to the south, the mountain rose abruptly, its face of +sheer rock making a dark scar on the winter landscape, a scar crossed +with long white bands and bars of ice which, glacier-wise, were creeping +over the edge of the cliff as if seeking to veil its sinister face. +Against the base of the mountain, close to the inky creek, another patch +of darkness stood out in bold relief. This patch was the Lorimers' +cottage. + +In spite of the haunting melancholy of his song, Thayer looked out at +the cottage and at the storm with a feeling of supreme content. Lorimer +hated storms with a catlike fervor; it was an old-time peculiarity of +his, dating from their student days in Goettingen. There was no +likelihood of his leaving the cottage, that day; and, inside the cottage +with his man to look out for him, Thayer felt that he was beyond the +possibility of danger. It was seven weeks since they had buried +themselves in that wilderness, seven weeks that Thayer had voluntarily +kept himself under the daily and hourly strain of constant intimate +association with the woman he loved, of knowing that she gained +strength and courage from her reliance upon him, and of forcing himself +to treat her with an offhand good-fellowship which defied analysis for +the mere reason that it challenged none. + +A weaker man than Thayer would have yielded to the strain, or else have +grown fretful under its chafing. Thayer did neither. He felt the +chafing, galling burden which he bore; but he kept the scars out of +sight of others, and moreover, he conscientiously refrained from looking +at them, himself. Self-pity is the surest, yet the most insidious foe to +self-poise. When the original Cotton Mather Thayer had stuck a splinter +of wood into the palm of his hand, he had pulled out the splinter with +his teeth and then, punching his hand into his pocket, he had continued +his discussion of the latest election to the General Court. His namesake +was proving himself true to the traditions of his blood. + +Twice only had Thayer sought outlet for his mood. Twice the almost +deserted hotel had vibrated with such singing as it was destined never +to have heard, before or since. The piano was passable and, shut up +alone in the barren parlor, Thayer had sung to the empty chairs as he +had never yet sung to any crowded audience. Out in the halls, the +people of the house gathered in listening, whispering groups; but Thayer +never heeded them. It is not certain that, heeding, he would have cared. +Relief he must have at any cost, and this was the one means at his +command. His own voice, laden with passionate sadness, came echoing back +to him from the unresponsive walls, and in time the echo checked his +outcry. It taught him anew the lesson which already he had conned again +and again, the lesson that his bitterest plaint fell on no one else's +ears with half the compelling fervor with which it reached his own, that +his cry for help came beaten back to the one person who could help him, +that was--himself. But at least, there was some relief in having made +his cry. + +He had never allowed himself to regret his answer to the impresario. Day +by day, he realized more and more keenly that his presence there was +imperative. Beatrix seemed to him far from well. Her nerves had been +less steady since the shock of that last supper in New York; she was +totally unable to adjust herself to Lorimer's swift alternations of +mood, his hours of demonstrative affection, his times of black +depression and irritability. Thayer saw that she did her best, that she +bravely sought to play a loyal part in the work of reformation. The +failure was in no sense that of will, but of mere nervous strength. But +there were hours and hours when Thayer stood between them, trying by his +sympathy for Lorimer to atone for Beatrix's coldness, trying by his +chivalry to Beatrix to make amends for the fractiousness of Lorimer. + +There were hours when he mourned acutely for his work. They invariably +followed upon the heels of a letter from Arlt and they invariably ended +in his going to the cottage and dragging Lorimer out for a tramp in the +stinging air. The doctor had ordered much exercise, and Lorimer, who +refused to go beyond his door in the society of his man, made long +expeditions at Thayer's side, returning weary of body, but of placid +mood and healthy appetite, to spend a short evening and a long and +restful night. + +The day before, they had been out since early morning. The deep-packed +snow had lain, hard and solid and tempting, and the sun glittered coldly +back into the windless air. Lorimer had been in high spirits. One of his +old gay, infectious moods was upon him, and, for the passing hour, +Thayer let himself yield to it until he forgot Beatrix, forgot the +tragedy which overhung them all, forgot even the number of miles they +had come. At noon, they had found a wood-choppers' camp and, sitting +around the blazing fire, they had mingled their daintily-packed lunch +with the cruder fare of their temporary hosts. Lorimer had been the life +of the party, and the good-bys had been spoken with real regret. At the +top of the hill above the camp, Lorimer had turned back again to wave +his cap in boyish farewell. Then the episode had ended, ended more +completely than Thayer as yet could realize. + +Lorimer's mood changed on the way home. He grumbled about the softening +snow, about the gathering dusk, about the length of the road. His +exasperation reached its height when, ignoring Thayer's advice in regard +to the path, he struck out across an open snowfield, only to go crashing +down through its insecure foundation of baby spruces whose lusty little +branches bore up the snow like myriad arms. When Lorimer emerged from +the shallow caverns beneath, his temper was of the blackest, and, all +the rest of the way home, he had stalked along in gloomy silence, ten +feet in the rear of his companion's heels. + +Thayer had judged that it would he well to invite himself to stay to +dinner at the cottage. Lorimer had been in one of his worst moods, and +even Thayer had found it wellnigh impossible to keep the talk brisk and +amicable. He had remained until he had seen that Lorimer was at last +yielding to the inevitable drowsiness of his long day in the open air; +then he had started back to the hotel. Once outside the cottage, +however, he had squared his shoulders and drawn a deep breath of relief. +He needed mental ozone; but even physical ozone was better than mental +nitrous oxide. + +And now he was standing at the snow-veiled window, looking across at the +cottage while he hummed to himself the recurring, haunting Famine +Theme,-- + + "_O the famine and the fever! + O the wasting of the famine! + O the blasting of the fever!_" + +He had no notion of the truth of his words. Had he done so, the cottage, +not the hotel, would have held him, that day, and the tragedy, so long +averted, might have been warded off a little longer. But fate willed +otherwise. To Thayer's mind, Lorimer, storm-bound and weary from his +tramp of the day before, would spend the day, drowsing, novel in hand, +before the open fire. Thayer, in his own absolute integrity, could never +imagine the truth: that Lorimer's trusty attendant had at last yielded +to the temptation of the oft-repeated bribe and had given into Lorimer's +hands the bottle from which he was used to measure out, medicine-wise, +the daily lessening allowance of brandy. He could not know how often, +all that day, Beatrix went to the window and looked out across the storm +in the hope of seeing him come striding to her through the snow. Had it +been possible, she would have sent for him; but it was a day when women +are safest inside a house, and she dared not remove either Lorimer's man +or the old butler from their close guard over her husband. She had been +utterly opposed to bringing the faithful old butler with them; but now +she was glad that she had yielded to his begging. He had been with her +father since her childhood, and had insisted upon following "Miss +Beatrix" into her new home. Without him now, she would have been +absolutely, hopelessly alone. + +Thayer spent a quiet, contented day. For the time being, he had +dismissed Lorimer from his mind, and he gave himself up to the luxury of +taking thought for no one but himself. The sensation was very luxurious +from its very novelty. He wrote a long letter to Arlt, responded to a +dozen notes of invitation which had pursued him from the city, loitered +about the office and ended the day with a novel which had reached him +when the mail came in, that noon. It was still early when he went to +bed. As he drew the shades, from sheer force of habit he glanced across +at the cottage. Its lights were burning brightly, their quiet steadiness +giving no hint of the hideous carnival within. + +No healthy man can go to bed, two hours before his usual time, and +expect to sleep peacefully till dawn. At four o'clock, Thayer waked +suddenly, with the firm belief that his slumber must have reached quite +around the clock. He struck a match and looked at his watch. + +Restlessly he rose and began to walk up and down the room. The storm had +increased during the night. He could hear the snow sifting against the +windows and, far off at a distant corner of the house, a loosened blind +was beating to and fro in the wind. The sound echoed drearily through +the almost deserted barracks, and added infinitely to the loneliness of +the wilderness, and of the night, and of the storm. + +Thayer paused at the window, raised the shade and peered out into the +night. At first, he could see only the darkness, no longer black, but +gray with the swirling snow. The ceaseless, pitiless fall of the flakes +fascinated him, and he stood long, watching them take shape in the +distance, come whirling against the glass and slide aimlessly down the +pane, as so many had fallen before them. Then, as the storm lost +something of its fury, he glanced up and out across the night. The next +instant, his face was pressed against the pane, while his clasped +fingers shielded his eyes from the light within the room. In the +Lorimers' cottage, half a mile away, the lights were still burning. On +such a night and at such an hour, those lights meant trouble: illness, +or perhaps something infinitely worse. + +He had stood at the window longer than he had realized, and the clock in +the office struck five as Thayer, fully dressed, stepped out into the +hall. With the waning of the night, the storm was increasing again and, +strong man as he was, Thayer faltered as he opened the door and went out +into the darkness. + +Four times he tried to beat his way against the wind, to force a path +through the wet, heavy drifts. Four times, buffeted and almost spent, he +was driven back to the shelter of the veranda. The office clock struck +six, as he went inside the house to find a shivering servant sweeping +out the office. + +"Get me some snowshoes," he ordered briefly. "The lights have burned all +night in Mr. Lorimer's cottage; I am afraid they may be ill and in need +of help. I thought I could get to them; but in this storm it is +impossible, unless I can have some shoes." + +By some trick of the brain, anxious and impatient as he was, the Famine +Theme recurred to his mind, and the servant, coming back with the shoes, +found him singing it softly to himself. The words died away into +inarticulate humming, as Thayer bent over to fasten the straps. Then, +buttoning his coat closely and pulling his cap down over his eyes, +Thayer opened the door for the second time and went striding away across +the gray, tempestuous darkness which had shut down again impenetrably +between himself and those steady, ominous lights. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + + +"It has all been a hideous mistake!" + +Abruptly, defiantly Beatrix threw out the words at Thayer, as he +entered. Then her head dropped on her arms which rested on the table +before her. + +Breathless from his struggle with the storm and astounded at her +greeting, Thayer halted just across the threshold and looked at her in +silence. The silence grew irksome to her. She changed the form of her +words. + +"I couldn't help it. I have tried." The defiance in her voice suddenly +gave place to desperation. She pushed back her chair, rose and crossed +the room to the fire. There she turned and stood facing Thayer, her head +erect, her cheeks scarlet, her hands, palms downward, tightly clasped. +"I have tried my best and failed. It is a total, absolute failure," she +went on fiercely. "I know it, and you know it, too. You have watched it +coming on, growing and overpowering me. We may as well admit it; I made +a mistake when I married Sidney Lorimer." + +Thayer met her eyes steadily, rallying all his forces to face her in +this new mood. This sudden change in her baffled his powers of +comprehension. Weakened and torn and shaken by her endless hours alone +in the whistling, roaring storm, listening moment by moment to the +hideous noises of delirium coming from the next room, the level nerves +of Beatrix had at last given way completely. The noises had stopped now, +and an ominous stillness lay over the room; but in Beatrix's ears they +still were ringing, beating a terrible accompaniment to the crowding +measures of her thoughts. Hour after hour as she had sat alone, her +fingers in her ears, her eyes fixed on the snow-draped landscape outside +the window, her mind had worked ceaselessly, arbitrarily. For the time +being, she had felt herself unable to control the direction of her +thoughts, and the direction had been fraught with danger. + +She went back to her first meeting with Lorimer. She went over each +detail of their friendship and of their married life. She tried in vain +to connect the genial, fascinating man she had first known with the man +whose ravings found their way under her fingers pressed against her +ears. She recalled his old-time devotion and chivalry; she contrasted it +with his moodiness and the brutal petulance which of late had marked +his manner to her. At no one point had there been a sudden change in +him. The transition had been slow, insidious. At last she had wakened to +it in all its bald reality. + +Now and then she rose and went to the window in the hope of seeing +Thayer's familiar figure coming towards her through the storm. Each time +she did so, her thoughts lingered a little upon him, upon his power to +hold Lorimer, upon his constant thoughtfulness for her. Each time she +thought of him, her mind rested there longer, until she found herself +going over their acquaintance much as, a few hours earlier, she had gone +over her life with Lorimer. Then, all at once, she dropped her head on +the table with a little moan. Her will was powerless longer to blind her +to the truth. Her loyalty to Lorimer, her traditions, her training had +made her fight for months, a fight no less bitter because it was +subconscious. Now her fighting strength was gone. The truth had asserted +itself at the instant when her nervous force was at its weakest. It had +asserted itself, and it had mastered her. + +She was still in the passive stage of defeat, when Thayer entered the +room, hours later. Struggling to her through the storm, he had been +urged on by a fierce passion of anxiety for the woman he loved. A +strange fire had flashed up within him, and, had he found Beatrix in her +usual mood, he might have lost his power to quench it. Met by a passion +equal to his own, he instinctively pulled himself together. Two such +storms must inevitably have landed them upon hidden rocks and wrecked +them pitilessly and in mid-career. He realized the danger. It took all +his manhood to face it; but two lives were trembling in the balance, +with nothing but his own past character and half of his inherited +tendencies to act as a fulcrum. + +"I am afraid I don't quite understand you," he said. + +"Then what are you doing here?" she returned sharply. + +Thayer faltered. Then,-- + +"I thought perhaps you might be in need of help," he said quietly. + +Her lip curled, and her slender wrists grew tense with the strain upon +them. + +"For what? John and Patrick can take care of my husband. Mr. Lorimer +is--very ill; but we are quite capable of taking care of him. Why should +I need help?" She watched him in silent hostility. Then, as she saw the +sudden drawing of his lips, her mood changed. This was her friend, the +only friend who was near her and loyal to her. She must not hurt him +with her bitterness, lest he too should fail her, just as Lorimer +already had done. For months, she had unconsciously depended upon his +loyalty. Now she sought it consciously. "What is the use of keeping up +the pretence any longer?" she went on drearily. "You have been with us +day after day; you know how things are going; you know how my husband +has--that he has not always been himself." Even in her desperation, she +still chose her words guardedly. "Do you think I ever could have held +him?" + +Slowly Thayer shook his head. + +"No," he said in a low voice. "No; you never could have held him. It was +impossible." + +"Then why didn't you warn me?" she burst out hotly. + +He looked her straight in the eye. + +"How could I?" + +Her face flushed with the sudden understanding. Then the old dreary note +came back into her voice. + +"And you have known from the first that it was all a mistake?" + +"Yes." + +"And you have let me suffer for it?" + +"You are not the only one," he said, almost involuntarily. + +Their eyes met, held each other, then dropped apart. Thayer drew a long, +slow breath. + +"Mrs. Lorimer--Beatrix--" + +She checked him with a gesture. + +"Wait! You don't know it all, you can't know. You never knew Sidney +Lorimer as I did, for my Sidney Lorimer never really existed. I +idealized him, half-deified him. The Sidney Lorimer to whom I gave my +love, my very life, was one man; the Sidney Lorimer I married was quite +another. A woman can't love two men totally unlike each other, and yet I +am bound to him, bound down to the day of my death, or of his. We both +come of a long-lived race, and this must go on for years. I have tried +to prevent it, this gradual change in him; but it was impossible. Then I +tried not to see it; but I had to see it. It insisted on itself and on +being seen. I have been watching it, dreading the time when I must admit +it in so many words. I have tried to be loyal to him, God knows!" She +spoke rapidly. Then she checked herself, and the dreary note came again. +"But what is done, is done. I loved one man; I am married to another. +Nothing now can bring back to me the man I used to know, the man I used +to imagine him. Then what will the future amount to? We shall go on +together to the end, two prisoners bound by a chain which only holds us +the tighter and galls us the more, the looser it grows between us. One +doesn't mind the dying; it's the limitless, unchanging years ahead, the +black, blank years that frighten me. How can I escape them?" + +In presence of a woman's passionate pain, every man must stand back, +baffled and powerless to help. Thayer had supposed he understood Beatrix +Lorimer as no other man had ever understood her. To his eyes, her +character seemed crystal clear; yet now, in her supreme crisis, the +crystal grew cloudy before his eyes. For long hours, she had gone into +the deep places of her life, had stirred up from its very source the +spring of her being, and the superficial clearness had grown turgid with +the dregs that had lain undisturbed and unsuspected there. Hatred and +black despair were boiling in the heart which Thayer had thought so calm +and cool, so peaceful in its dainty whiteness. Before it, he stood +silent. Was this the true Beatrix Lorimer? The woman he had fancied her +was a spotless white lily. The heart of this one was banded with bars +of flame and gold. The other grew colorless and cold by comparison, and +his hands twitched to pluck this fiery, vivid thing before him and carry +it away out of reach of Lorimer's sodden, defiling touch. What had +Sidney Lorimer, drunkard, profligate that he was, to do with this +high-bred, high-spirited, heart-broken woman? Why not rather he, Cotton +Mather Thayer--He thrust his hands into his pockets and lowered his eyes +to hide the light burning in them. + +It seemed to him hours since he had entered the house. In reality, the +time was short. As he had crossed the threshold, Beatrix had raised her +head and looked at him dully. Then her reaction had come. Like the ebb +and flow of the waves, excitement had followed apathy; and, as she had +met his eyes, the wave had risen again and swept her away upon its +tossing crest. Thayer was here at last. He never forgot her, never +forsook her. He had come to her in this moment of her bitterest need, +even as he had come to her many a time in the past. With him, there +could be no need for explanation or preface. Straight from the heart of +her reverie, Beatrix Lorimer had cast her words at him,-- + +"It has all been a hideous mistake!" + +And now she was following them up with the question which, in Thayer's +ears, sounded the dominant note of the temptation that had been pursuing +him during all those months of rigid self-restraint,-- + +"The black, blank years, how can I escape them?" + +For the second time in his life, Thayer grew dizzy with the tingle of +his nerves answering to the shock to his brain. The blood was pounding +across his temples, and his ears rang loudly. Then he lifted his eyes +deliberately and looked Beatrix full in the face. For an instant, he +held her eyes; then she drew away from him. This was not the quiet, +self-contained man upon whom she had leaned for months. This man's eyes +were glowing, his lips quivering, his hands outstretched to meet her +own. No need to tell her what flame had kindled him into such fierce and +burning life. Their eyes met. She drew away; but her glance never +wavered. Without a spoken word, they had come to the pitiless, naked +truth. Wish had answered to wish, and henceforth there could be no +concealments between them. She took a step forward, and for a moment her +fingers rested in the hot hollow of his hand. + +It was only for a moment. However, for Thayer that moment had sufficed +to review a lifetime, to dwell in detail, even, upon the events of the +last fourteen months. In the past, he had done his best to bear himself +as an honest man and a gentleman; and, seen in the light of that past, +the future turned to ashes before him. At best, it was void of honor; at +worst, it was unthinkable. It had not been easy for him to swim against +the tide, to strive, at the expense of his own plans, to rescue Lorimer +from drunkenness and shame. At least, now that for so long a time he had +succeeded in keeping his head above water, he would not wilfully cast +himself upon the first jagged rock in his course. He would not save +Lorimer's honor for the sake of Lorimer's wife, and then deliberately +seek to bring dishonor and shame upon the wife herself. He veiled his +eyes and let his palm drop out from under the pressure of the cold +little fingers. + +"It's not necessarily a question of years," he said, after a silence in +which it seemed to him that she must be able to count his heart-throbs. +"Dane told me what the doctor said. He hopes this place will work a +complete cure, and it may not be long before your husband pulls himself +together again." + +He had turned a little away from her; but he knew she was still looking +at him. He could feel the pathetic appeal in her eyes, yet he never +wavered. However brutal he might seem to her now, he knew that the hour +would come when she would be grateful to him. + +With an effort, she steadied herself. + +"I am afraid it is impossible. He has gone too far; the pull now is all +downward." + +"What about your hold on him?" Thayer asked quietly. + +Beatrix started, as if he had laid a clumsy thumb on an exposed nerve. + +"My hold!" she said, with a sudden fierceness. "Do you think that there +is no limit to the help which I must give him?" Then her voice dropped. +"No; I have let go. It is no use. I have done all I can, and now I can +only wait till the play is over and the curtain drops. Perhaps it may +not be so very long, after all. It spoils any tragedy, if the last acts +drag." + +He had been fired by her passion; but he had resisted it. Now her +despair unmanned him. It was only the old, old situation: the guiltless +one must suffer for the guilty. The fact in general terms he accepted as +a necessary evil; the particular instance was unbearable. Once more, and +for the last time, the balance wavered; then slowly, steadily it dipped +into position. The tragedy would be no less a tragedy, because a new +hero took the stage for the final acts. He tried to find words to say; +but they refused to come at his bidding. He could only stand mute and +look down at her, as she sat in her old place by the table, with her +head buried in her arms. + +The seconds passed and lengthened into minutes. Little by little, the +cold, gray light of the snowy morning was creeping into the room, +dimming the lamplight to pale yellow streaks and filling the place with +a chill, forbidding gloom. The stillness was so absolute that Thayer +could hear his watch ticking in his pocket, could hear the beating of +his own heart. Neither one of them moved, or spoke. In the next room, +there was a faint sound; but they never heeded it. Beatrix's face was +hidden in her arms; Thayer's eyes, turned now to the window, were fixed +upon the pitiless storm outside, while mechanically he sought to adjust +the regular ticking of his watch to the broken rhythm of the Famine +Theme which once more was haunting his brain. + +Neither one of them faced the open door; neither one of them saw the +crawling, slinking figure, the pale, fear-stricken face, and the staring +eyes which appeared in the doorway, clung there for a moment and then +vanished again as noiselessly as they had come. Neither of them, had +they seen, could have imagined the fearful interpretation which the +delirium-stricken brain had put upon the silent scene. + +The stir in the next room came again. Then it increased until the +cottage echoed with the tumult of struggle and of inarticulate crying. +Above it all, Lorimer's maddened voice rang out in piteous terror,-- + +"Let me go! I saw him! It's Thayer, and he will kill Beatrix! She is +afraid of him, and she is begging for mercy! He is killing my wife, my +Beatrix! Let me go! Beatrix! Beatrix! Dear girl, I'm coming!" + +Beatrix sprang to her feet, as Thayer rushed to the inner room where the +words had ended in a fury of inarticulate shrieks. There was the sound +of a heavy struggle, when it seemed to her that the cottage rocked with +the rocking, writhing bodies of the men just beyond her sight. She dared +not face the scene in all its horror. She stood, erect and alone, in the +middle of the floor, while the struggle slowly died away and the shrieks +sank to the piteous low whimpering of an animal in pain. Then all was +still. + +Weak by inheritance, weaker still by dissipation, Lorimer's heart had +yielded to the shock of his imaginary fear; but the last coherent +thought of his distracted brain had been that of protecting love for +Beatrix. + +In the gray, cold light, through the silent cottage, the old butler came +to Beatrix's side and gently touched her arm. + +"It is over, Miss Beatrix," he said gravely; "and may the good God be +pitiful to us all!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + + +It was mid-afternoon when Thayer once more entered the hotel. The +proprietor met him at the door. + +"This message was just telephoned in, Mr. Thayer. The boy is getting +ready to carry it to the cottage." + +Thayer tore open the envelope indifferently. Exhausted by the struggle +and the shock through which he had been passing, for the time being he +felt little interest in any word which could come to him from the +outside world. His entire life seemed to him limited to one short hour +in one small room, apart from the world and its concerns. That brief +episode was too recent and too personal to allow him at once to cast off +its impression. In his present mood, it appeared to be the focal point +of his entire life, the arena upon which the two warring strains in his +blood had met to fight to a finish. The fight had been sharp and fierce; +already he was beginning to rejoice that the Puritan had conquered the +Slav. Beyond that point, as yet, he was powerless to go. Later, his +rejoicing would be increased by the knowledge that in his own words and +deeds he had never swerved from a certain loyalty towards Lorimer. + +"Mr. Lorimer is--" the proprietor was beginning vaguely. + +Thayer's nod was more curt than he realized. + +"Mr. Lorimer is dead." + +"You don't mean it! When?" The man was visibly startled. + +"This morning, between seven and eight o'clock." + +"It must have been very sudden?" The accent was plainly interrogative. + +"Yes, at the last. He had been quite ill for twenty-four hours. He was +overtired with his walk of the day before, and then ate something that +disagreed with him. He suffered terribly, and, at the last, heart +failure developed." Thayer ended his fable with a deep breath of relief. + +"But they had no doctor," the man objected. + +Thayer raised his eyes and looked at him steadily for an instant. + +"No," he said quietly. "Mr. Lorimer has had a number of such attacks, +and Mrs. Lorimer had all the proper remedies. Until within a few +moments of the end, there was no indication that this attack was any +more serious than the others had been, and there had never before been +any tendency to heart failure." He paused for a moment, deliberately +challenging another question. Then he added, "If your telephone is not +in use, I must send word to Mrs. Lorimer's friends." And he walked away +to the telephone closet in the corner of the office. + +He called up three numbers in New York. The first one was Mr. Dane's +office, and to him Thayer announced the bare fact of Lorimer's death and +of Beatrix's need for her parents. His talk with Bobby Dane was longer, +and at intervals it became interjectional in its terseness. To Bobby, +Thayer went over the story in all its detail, yet in such guarded +phrases that no one else, listening, could have gained an inkling of the +true cause of Lorimer's death. After the first shock was over, Thayer +and Beatrix had discussed the matter fully and in all its bearings. The +attendant had his own reasons for wishing to keep the secret, and the +butler could be relied upon implicitly. Accordingly, they had decided +that there was no need of acquainting the world with the true version of +the case, and they had agreed that Bobby should be the one person to be +put in possession of all the facts. He was just; he had no sentimental +ideals to be dispelled in regard to Lorimer, and he was utterly +trustworthy. + +Thayer's third message was the shortest of all. + +"Not in? Very well. I am Mr. Thayer. Tell him that I will be in his +office at ten o'clock on Saturday morning." + +It was then late on Thursday afternoon. Thayer had calculated that the +Danes would come in, the next day, and that the sleigh which brought +them in would also carry him out in season for the night train to New +York. There was another illness in the opera company. _Faust_ was to be +sung on the following Wednesday night, and Thayer, in sending that last +message, had given his tacit consent to singing the part of _Valentine_. +Even in the midst of his trouble, he smiled grimly to himself, as he +thought back to that far-off night in Berlin when the chord which closes +_Valentine's_ cavatina also closed his long indecision and left him +sitting with his face definitely turned towards the artist's life. It +had seemed to him then that the decision was threatening to undermine +his Puritanism; nevertheless, he had temporized with that Puritanism. In +resolving to become an artist, in so far as the possibility of art lay +in his keeping, he had likewise resolved to hold himself a man, virile +and of steady nerve. To his young enthusiasm, the two ideals had not +seemed incompatible. To his maturer judgment, they had appeared in no +sense to be at war, yet together they had been by no means easy of +attainment. All in all, he had preferred to leave to the recording angel +the balancing of his psychological accounts. He had lacked the time and +the perspective to do it for himself. But, meanwhile, he believed he +recognized the hand of fate in this second summons to sing the part of +_Valentine_. Fate and his old _maestro_ both had declared themselves for +opera. Their united will should be done. + +That evening was the longest he had ever spent, so long that in reality +it lasted until the gray dawn. The eastern sky was tinging itself with +yellow when he roused himself from the reverie which had held him since +he had left the dinner table. Rising to his feet, he drew himself to the +full of his towering height and took a slow, full breath. Then +deliberately he pushed his trunk into the middle of the floor and began +packing it, with the quiet method which characterized all his personal +arrangements. At first, he worked in grim silence; then, by almost +imperceptible degrees, his face lighted and he fell to humming over to +himself the familiar song,-- + + _"Even bravest heart may swell + In the moment of farewell--"_ + +Little by little, the humming rose and filled the room, at first the one +phrase repeated over and over again; then all at once, deep and +resonant, Thayer's full voice came leaping out in the rich Italian +words,-- + + _"La sul campo nel di della pugna, + Ah! si, Fra le file primiero saro."_ + +The past was already the past. "Blithe as a knight in his bridal array," +Thayer was echoing the call of his future destiny. Because he had won a +single battle, there was no reason he should lay down his arms. + + _"Careless what fate may befall me, + When Glory shall call me."_ + +He sang it boldly, joyously. He was not forgetful, only hopeful. He +would leave to the choice of fate the field in which his mastery should +lie. Master he would be at any cost. + + _"Careless what fate may befall me, + When Glory shall call me."_ + +For the last time, that little room was echoing with his voice. + +His own rooms in New York were echoing with the same song, when Bobby +Dane entered them, the next Saturday night. + +"Well, at least, you don't sound broken-hearted," he observed, as he +took off his coat. + +"The sight of you would go far to cure me, if I were," Thayer retorted. +His words were light; but his face and his grip on Bobby's two hands +contradicted his tone. + +"Glad of it," Bobby said flatly. "But tell me about Beatrix. How did the +poor girl stand it?" + +"Like herself," Thayer answered. "It was enough to shake the nerves of +the Winged Victory; but Mrs. Lorimer went through it like a heroine." + +"It was D.T.?" + +"Yes." + +"It was better that you kept the secret," Bobby said thoughtfully, as he +dropped into a chair by the piano. He sat silent for a moment while, +bending forward, he idly picked out the first few notes of the cavatina +on the lowest octave of the bass. Then he added, "I don't see how you +managed it, Thayer; but it is a good deed done. Was there any trouble +about the certificate?" + +"No. It was heart failure, true enough, and there was no need to go into +secondary causes." + +"I am glad the doctor was a man of sense. If he had been a martinet, it +would have been worse for us all. Of course, there is no telling how far +people will accept the story; but we may as well try to act as if it +were true." There was a pause. Then Bobby inquired, "Well, and now what +are you going to do next?" + +"_Valentine_ in _Faust_," Thayer replied briefly. + +"The deuce you are! When?" + +"Next Wednesday." + +Bobby's face fell. + +"Oh, I wanted you, myself, for that day. Isn't it rather sudden?" + +"So sudden that I didn't half realize it, till I found myself at +rehearsal, this morning. It is to be announced in to-morrow's papers, I +suppose. Not even Arlt knows it yet." + +Bobby meditated for the space of several seconds. + +"Thayer, I am delighted," he said then. "I was so afraid your stopping +now might mean a permanent break-up in your work. Now you are going into +your right field at last. You've been too large for oratorio; you fill +altogether too much space, and crowd out the chorus. You need a whole +stage to ramp around in. Moreover, if I have any idea what Gounod meant, +he had your voice in mind, when he created the part. Go in, and you are +sure to win; and not a soul in the city will be gladder of it than I." + +Thayers face softened. His life, successful as it was, had been +singularly barren of endearments, and Bobby's words touched him keenly. +Heretofore, only Arlt had manifested any personal interest in his +successes, and Arlt was a true German, chary of his words. Thayer held +out his hand to Bobby. + +"Thank you, Dane. I believe you," he said. + +There was a short silence. Then Thayer added suddenly,-- + +"What did you want of me for Wednesday?" + +Again Bobby's face clouded, and he laughed uneasily. + +"Something you can't and must not do, Thayer. I oughtn't to have spoken +of it." + +"What was it?" Then a new idea crossed Thayer's mind. "Something about +Lorimer?" + +"Yes, I may as well tell you. We have been telephoning back and forth, +all day. They'll be down, Monday night, and the funeral is to be on +Wednesday afternoon. Beatrix is leaving all the plans to my uncle; and +my aunt, who is a sentimental soul and has no idea of the real state of +the case, is insisting that the poor old chap shall be buried with all +manner of social honors. It is to be a real function, and she thought it +would be the most suitable thing in the world, if you were to sing at +the funeral. I knew you wouldn't enjoy doing it, all things considered; +but I couldn't say so to my uncle. All in all, it is a relief to have +this other affair knock it in the head." + +To Bobby, the pause was scarcely perceptible. To Thayer, it sufficed to +review the years between his meeting Lorimer in Goettingen and that last +gray dawn in the cottage. + +"But it doesn't," Thayer said then. + +"You don't mean--?" + +"I will sing. We rehearse in the morning, and I have nothing afterwards +until evening. What time is the service?" + +Bobby Dane's call left Thayer feeling once more at war with himself. +Worn out with the long strain of watching over Lorimer, exhausted with +the agony of that hour in the cottage, it had been a relief to him, now +that his work was ended, to throw himself wholly into the preparations +for _Faust_. The needed rehearsals and the inevitable details of +costuming had been sufficient to occupy his tired mind completely, and +he had held firmly to his resolve to forget the past two months. He had +been able to accomplish this only by getting a strong grip upon his own +mind and holding on tightly and steadily; but he had accomplished it. +Bobby left him with it all to do over again. In spite of himself, +Beatrix's desperate question for "the black, blank years," drowned the +familiar words of his cavatina and set themselves in their place,-- + + _"Even black, blank years shall pass."_ + +Impatiently he shut the piano and, sitting down at his desk, began +studying aloud the list of stage directions which outlined his acting; +but, in the intervals of turning a page, he asked himself over and over +again whether any other life could hold a grimmer contrast than the one +confronting him, that coming Wednesday afternoon and evening. + +Wednesday came at last. Thayer had left his card at the Lorimers' house, +the day before; but he had felt no surprise that Beatrix had refused to +see him. He caught no glimpse of her until the hour for the funeral, and +he felt that it was better so. For the present, their lives must lie in +different paths. + +As Bobby had predicted, Sidney Lorimer's funeral was a function. +Everything about it was above criticism, with the minor exception of +the manner in which Lorimer had met his end. Society, black-clothed and +sombre-faced, was present, partly from respect to the Danes, partly from +a real liking for Lorimer as they had known him at first, partly from +curiosity to see whether there were any foundation for the rumors which +already were flying abroad. The rumors embraced everything from +meningitis to suicide, everything except the truth. And meanwhile, the +Lorimers' rooms were transformed into a species of flower show, and, in +the midst of the flowers, Lorimer lay asleep, his cheek resting on his +hand, his lips curving into the old winning smile they knew so well. For +him, as for Thayer, the past was passed and done. For him, too, the +future might still be full of promise. Thayer, as he stood beside the +man who had been his old-time friend, admitted as much to himself, and +all at once the intoning of the solemn ritual ceased to jar upon his +ears. For Lorimer, as for himself, the fight was still on. The arena had +changed; that was all. Perhaps in the new battle, Lorimer would arm +himself with stronger weapons. + +Then the intoning stopped, and some one made a signal to Thayer. Simply +as a boy, and with a boyish tenderness, he sang the little hymn they +had chosen for him. Each man and woman who listened, felt gentler and +nobler for his song; but only Beatrix, shut decorously in the room +upstairs, away from her dead, realized that, for the passing hour, +Thayer had annulled the passion and the pain of those last weeks, and +had gone back again to the old, pitiful, protecting love which for years +had marked his attitude towards Lorimer. + +From Lorimer's funeral, society went home to rest and gossip and +exchange its sombre clothing for its most brilliant plumage. Nearly two +years before, society had taken Cotton Mather Thayer to its bosom. Now +it was making ready to burn much incense in his honor, and its first +step in the process was to make his opening night of opera one of the +most brilliant events of the winter. With this laudable end in view, the +house was packed, and the women present had drawn heavily upon their +reserve fund of brand-new gowns which they had been hoarding for the +final gayeties of the season. + +Thayer, with Arlt at his side, lingered idly in the wings, while the +audience listened with ill-concealed impatience to the melodious +bargaining between _Faust_ and _Mephistopheles_. Then the attention +quickened, as every bar of the Kermess chorus brought them nearer to +the moment for _Valentine's_ coming. + +Charm in hand, he came at last, and the applause, caught up to the +galleries and tossed back to the floor, echoed again and again through +the great opera house. He accepted it quietly, almost indifferently, and +stood waiting for the storm to die away, while his keen eyes, sweeping +the house, recognized here and there among the jewelled, bare-shouldered +women before him the faces of the black-gowned mourners to whom he had +sung in the afternoon. The sight brought Beatrix to his mind. He +wondered how she was passing the evening, whether, from under the +benumbing effects of the blow she had suffered, she were still sending a +thought, a hope for success in his direction. Unconsciously to himself, +his pulses were tingling and throbbing with the music, and the throb and +tingle brought back to him the memory of the pounding of his pulses, +that morning in the cottage, only a week before. He had almost yielded +to their sway; then he had rallied. He had gone through the shock of +Lorimer's death, through the hasty discussion of arrangements which had +followed, through the saying good-by, with a calmness that had steadied +Beatrix and had been a surprise, even to himself. It was more--He +roused himself abruptly to the consciousness that mechanically he had +been going through the scene with _Wagner_, and that the moment for his +cavatina had come. + +Instinctively he squared his shoulders and raised his eyes. As he did +so, he caught sight of Bobby Dane, and the sight recalled to him the +half-dismissed thought of Beatrix. During the one measure of +introduction, Beatrix and _Marguerite_, the cottage and the Kermess went +whirling together through Thayer's brain, turning and twisting, +intermingling and separating again like the visions of delirium. For +that one measure, his operatic fate was trembling in the balance. Then +the artist triumphed. Steady and clear, yet burdened with infinite +sadness, his voice rang out, filling the wide spaces of the great house, +filling the smallest heart within it with its throbbing, passionate +power. + + _"Yet the bravest heart may swell + In the moment of farewell."_ + +The house was rocking and ringing with applause, as the song died away; +but Thayer heard it with unheeding ears. His old destiny had fulfilled +itself. The chord which closed his cavatina had sealed his fame in +opera; but his fame was to him as ashes in his mouth. With that same +chord, he had wilfully bidden farewell, not to _Marguerite_, his sister, +but to Beatrix, the wife of his friend, Sidney Lorimer. And, as the +chord died away, with its death there also died his passionate love. Who +could foretell what its resurrection would be? Or when? Or where? + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + + +"Otto, how does it feel to be a celebrity?" Miss Gannion asked abruptly, +one afternoon in late May. + +The young German smiled. + +"How should I know?" + +"From experience, of course. Your artistic probation appears to be over. +Your winning the prize for the suite has settled it for all time, and +now I am doing my best to readjust myself to the idea that my boy friend +Otto is the new composer Arlt about whom the critics are waging inky +war." + +"What is the use?" he inquired, as he crossed the room and sat down at +the piano. + +"Because I really must begin to face the fact that you are destined to +be one of the immortals, and treat you with proper respect." Her tone +was full of lazy amusement and content. "Hereafter, I shall never dare +tell you when your necktie is askew, and as for training you in the +management of your cuffs!" She paused expressively, and they both +laughed. + +"It was a blow to me to find that reputation depends upon such things," +Arlt said, after a thoughtful pause. + +"Not reputation; success. The two things don't necessarily touch each +other. One is a matter of brains, the other of fashion." Her accent was +almost bitter. "You have deserved one; you are beginning to have the +other thrust upon you. How does it make you feel?" + +"As if I owed a great deal to you." + +The girlish pink flush rose in Miss Gannion's cheeks. + +"Thank you, dear boy. But really I have done nothing." + +Arlt turned his back to the piano and, clasping his hands over his +knees, spoke with simple gravity. + +"Miss Gannion, here in America, I have had three good friends, Mr. +Thayer, you, and Miss Van Osdel. Everybody knows what Mr. Thayer has +done to help me; I am the only one who knows about you and Miss Van +Osdel, and I know it better and better, the more I learn to understand +your American ways. It was not always easy for a woman in society to +accept as her friend a stranger musician without reputation and without +social backing, to acknowledge him in public and to insist that her +friends should acknowledge him. At first I took it as a matter of +course. I know better now, and I know that you and Miss Van Osdel must +have given up some things for the sake of helping me along." + +Miss Gannion paused, before she answered. + +"Otto," she said at length; "I am a lonely woman, and my life has been +broader for knowing you. I mean that _you_ in the plural, for there have +been a good many of you. Some have been successful, some have not; a few +have become famous, just as you are doing. Some of them have been sent +to me; some have come of their own accord. We have been close friends +for a while, and then they have gone on their ways. Every going has left +its scar. I was a woman, sitting still in my place by the fire; they +were marching with the procession, stopping only for a little while and +then going on out of my sight. It has made me feel so futile. But, of +them all, you are the only one who has suggested that the _vivandiere_ +may be a useful element on the march. It was all I could do, and I did +it. I am glad if it counted for anything." + +"Everything in this world counts but cipher, naught, or zero," Bobby +observed suddenly, as he came strolling into the room at Sally's side. +"You aren't a cipher, Miss Gannion. They're either evanescent or tubby, +according to whether you look at their moral or their physical +proportions. You don't fit either measurement. Therefore you aren't a +cipher. Therefore you count. How do, Arlt? No; don't get up from the +piano. You owe me a sonata, at least, to pay for the stunning headlines +I gave you, yesterday." + +"Was that your work, Bobby?" Sally asked, while she shook hands with +Arlt. "I thought it must have come from the bake-shop where they do all +the other pi. Did you see it, Miss Gannion? It reminded me of _A was an +Apple Pie: Arlt's Art Analyzed_. Properly, the second line should have +been: _By Bobby Bunkum_; but I suppose his ideas ran low, when he +reached that point." + +"I say, Arlt," Bobby suggested; "why don't you write a series of +articles on How to Get on in the World?" + +"They would only take one line: Know Miss Gannion and Miss Van Osdel," +Arlt retorted, with unwonted quickness. + +Bobby shook his head. + +"No go, Arlt. I've known them for years, known them intimately; and look +at me! I haven't budged an inch in the upward march. The fact is, I have +just budged downward. My new underling is a boy of seventy and afraid +of a draught, so in common humanity I have had to make over to him my +warm corner at the editorial board, and remove myself to the chilly +places below the salt. To be sure, it gives me extra good purchase on +the devil, as my present desk is just in his pathway to the Chief, and I +can smite him as he goes by." + +"Does he turn the other cheek?" Sally queried. "One lump, Miss Gannion. +I am still keeping up my Lenten penance, for I acquired the taste for +it, and I can't bring myself back to the old extravagant ways. Next +Lent, probably I shall mortify the flesh by taking two lumps." + +Bobby handed her the cup. + +"The other cheek," he answered. "Which do you mean? He's all cheek, all +over himself, and it offers itself, whichever way he turns. Have you +seen Thayer lately, Arlt?" + +"Yesterday afternoon. He came down to my room to rehearse the songs he +is to sing, next Saturday." + +"What is Saturday? You fellows are going ahead at such a rate that I +can't keep track of you, unless I have an engagement book for your +especial benefit." + +"Bobby!" Sally expostulated. "Mr. Arlt's suite is to be played, +Saturday, and Mr. Thayer is to be the soloist for the concert. You +oughtn't to have forgotten that, especially when you asked me to go with +you." + +"Oh, yes; I do remember now," Bobby replied serenely. "I knew I had some +duty on hand for Saturday, just when I wanted to run up to Englewood for +a little golf. What makes you do music in pleasant weather, Arlt? It's +mean to keep a fellow in-doors at this season." + +"It is our last appearance," Arlt answered. + +Bobby raised his brows in feigned terror. + +"Nothing mortal, I hope." + +"No. We are going abroad, early in June." + +"Just the other fellow's luck! I wish I were a genius, to go frisking +about Europe instead of inking my fingers at home." + +Arlt shook his head. + +"No frisking for us. We are going to study." + +With characteristic promptitude, Bobby dragged out his hobby, mounted it +and was off at a gallop. + +"That's always the way with you musicians! You work till you are tired +of it; then you go off and shirk, and call it studying. I used to think +you were the elect of the earth. Now I doubt it." + +"Have some more tea, Bobby," Miss Gannion suggested. + +Bobby waved her aside. + +"Am I a child, to be diverted with soothing drinks? Never! I must have +my cry out, Miss Gannion. You and Sally can be talking about the last +fashion in peignoirs, if you wish. I don't know what they are; but I did +a scarehead about them for the Sunday fashion page, last week. The woman +who generally sees to it had mumps, and I substituted. I thought I did +it superbly: _Death to Decollete: Peignoirs Popular for Suburban +Suppers_. That was the way I did it, and I was sure she would be +pleased; but she cut me dead on the stairs, the first day she +convalesced enough to be out. Arlt, musicians are second-rate beings, at +best." + +"I am sorry. Perhaps you can suggest a remedy," Arlt replied literally. + +"Cast off your leading strings, and work out your own theories to suit +yourselves," Bobby answered unhesitatingly. "Now look here, I used to +think that it was greater to create music than to evolve literature; now +I know more, I know it isn't. When a man writes a book, he goes ahead +and does it according to the light of nature and the sense that is in +him. Sometimes it is good; mostly it isn't, but at least he has done it +out of himself and by himself. When you write a symphony, you do it out +of yourself, but not by yourself. You do it by the exact rules that +somebody else before you has laid down. You can have just so many themes +and so many episodes, though it would puzzle the _Concertmeister_ of the +heavenly choir to tell where the themes leave off and the episodes +begin. You know you have got those rules to hang on to, and they are a +great support in seasons of mental famine. Two themes and a subsidiary, +and a lot of episodes for padding: that's all you need, and they are +bound to come on in just a given order. Can you imagine a novelist +sitting down and fitting his work neatly into a box measured off into +compartments: one hero, one heroine, one extra, plus episodic sunsets +and moonbeams galore? Not much! He makes his rules as he goes along. +Sally, which is greater, to create a gown, or to cut it out by a paper +pattern?" + +"To cut it out, of course," Sally answered unexpectedly. "The patterns +never fit, and it is more work to bring them into the shape of any human +being than it is to start out with a free hand, in the first place." + +But Miss Gannion challenged her. + +"Sally, did you ever make a gown?" + +"Never; but that doesn't prevent my having theories," Sally replied +airily. + +"And I have had practice. I attempted once, when my years were less and +my zeal more, to clothe an orphan with the work of my own hands. I +thought I would operate free hand, as you call it, and I wish you could +have beheld the result. The orphan's own mother would never have +recognized her babe in the midst of the strange, polyangular bundle of +cloth. I suspect that the same might be said of a good many novelists, +and that a judicious trimming of the seams according to some established +pattern might improve their work." + +Arlt nodded approvingly. + +"As usual, Miss Gannion has spoken wisely," he remarked. + +"Miss Gannion has only echoed my words," Sally objected. + +"Not at all. You said it was harder to work from a pattern; I merely +suggested that the results were more satisfactory." + +"Well, never mind," Sally returned promptly. "I don't care about that, +so long as the vote goes against Bobby." + +"And then, this matter of studying," Bobby went on, disdaining her +interruption. "Now, when you get hard up for ideas, Arlt, when you +actually can't get enough out of your gray matter to fill up your +pattern, you go off somewhere and study something. Now, if I--" + +"What have you to do with it, Bobby?" Miss Gannion queried. + +"I represent literature, of course, just as Arlt represents music. If I +were to go off and study something, what would you all think?" + +"That it was the best possible thing you could possibly do," Sally +retorted. + +Bobby frowned. + +"You are so feminine and subjective, Sally. I suppose you can't help it, +though. But really--Arlt, for instance, has produced a prize +composition, while he is still studying. That's exactly what we used to +do in prep. school. Fancy a school for novelists, with night classes for +indigent poets! It would be a parallel case; but what would be the +effect upon literature?" + +Arlt rose deliberately and crossed the room to the empty chair at Miss +Gannion's side. + +"All in all," he answered quietly; "from my slight knowledge of the +teeming millions who are standing in line before the portals of American +literature, I think the establishment of such a school ought to be the +first duty of a self-respecting American government." + +Thayer, meanwhile, was preparing for a longer absence from America than +even Arlt was aware. The late winter and early spring had been for him a +season of perfect professional success. _Faust_ had been the first of +many operas, for the illness of the regular baritone had taken a sudden +turn for the worse and had ended his work for the season, and the +manager had insisted that Thayer should fill his place. The event had +fully justified the prediction of the old _maestro_, and in his operatic +roles Thayer was finding out where his real greatness lay. His mental +personality, as well as his huge figure, demanded room to manifest +itself. His acting was dramatic, yet full of control and reserve power, +and his voice, fresh from its weeks of rest, richer and stronger than +ever, was endowed with a new note of pathos, of longing for something +quite beyond his power of attainment. Measured by the eye, Thayer held +the world in the hollow of his hand. The ear alone betrayed the fact +that he found the world as hollow as the curve of his encircling +fingers. But when Thayer squared his jaw and threw back his shoulders +before one of his great arias, eye and ear united in saying that the +time would come when, by sheer might of his will, he would fill up that +world until the weight of its fulness should fit his encircling hand +with a contact as absolute as it would be lasting. Meanwhile, he was +biding his time. + +Nominally, he was going to Germany for a little study and much rest. In +reality, he was considering an invitation to sing at Bayreuth, that +summer; and among his papers was an unsigned contract which would keep +him in European cities during the whole of the following winter. He was +leaving his plans undecided, until he could hear definite news from +Beatrix. + +Living within a block of her house, he had nevertheless seen her but +once since Lorimer's death. Once only, less than a week after the +funeral, she had received him when he called. The call had been an +uncomfortable one for them both. Neither had been able to forget that +morning together in the cottage. It had been impossible for them to meet +as if that hour had never been; neither could they accept the truth +which had revealed itself at that time, and face its consequences. As +yet, the time for that had not come. Nevertheless, they both felt +relieved when the call was ended. Living side by side in the same social +circle, they could not fail to meet, as time went on and Beatrix resumed +her old place in the world. Any change in their attitude to each other +would not pass unchallenged. They were bound to meet; it was imperative +that they should meet in precisely the old way. They both were wise +enough to feel that the sooner they met, the better. Unbroken ice +thickens most quickly. However, when Thayer, after a half-hour of +platitudes, went down the steps, Beatrix, locked into her own room, +paced the floor, to and fro, to and fro again, like a caged panther, +while Thayer walked the streets until time to dress for the stage, and +then sang the part of _Valentine_ with a furious madness of despair +which merely added another stiff little leaf to his garland of fame. The +next day, the papers waxed enthusiastic over Thayer's temperament, and +Beatrix, alone in her room, read the papers and smiled sadly to herself +as she read. Thayer's fate was, in a sense, less hard to bear than her +own. He could find outlet for his sorrow. She, perforce, was dumb. + +Since that day, Thayer had caught no glimpse of Beatrix. She had seen +him repeatedly, however, when she had been driving; and once, at Bobby's +urgent pleading, hidden from view in the back of a box, she had heard +him sing _Valentine_. On the way home, she had decided that, after all, +perhaps his fate was no easier than hers to bear. His sorrow had +measured itself by the greatness of his personality. + +As the May days passed by, rumors reached the ears of Thayer that all +was not well with Beatrix. In her strict retirement, he could get no +word from her; but at length, as the rumors increased, he sought out +Bobby Dane. When he came away from Bobby, his face was stern and seamed +with deep lines around his rigid lips, and he vouchsafed to Arlt no +reason for his sudden postponement of the date for their sailing. + +"The first of July will bring us there in season," he explained briefly. +"I find I can't leave New York until after the twentieth." + +So, in the first fierce heat of early June, the days dragged slowly +along. Day after day, Thayer sat long at his desk in the attitude of +passive waiting. Now and then he read over his unsigned contracts, +wondering, meanwhile, whether he would ever sign them. If Beatrix lived, +he had determined to spend the next year abroad. In the other event--He +shook his head. + +Nothing then could make much difference in his future. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + + +During the second week in June, Beatrix's baby was born, and for days +afterward, the mother's life, so long in danger, now hung by a thread. +Then the good old fibre of the Danes reasserted itself, and Beatrix came +slowly upward from the verge of the River of Death. Bobby's face cleared +itself of its shadows, Thayer signed his contracts and, the next week, +he and Arlt finally sailed for Europe. + +In the long days of her convalescence, Beatrix manifested an utter +indifference to the tidings from the outer world. She lay by the hour, +her baby on her arm, looking down at the fuzzy little head and the red +little face whose indeterminate features were fast taking the stamp of +those of their father. Strange to say, the fact caused Beatrix no +repulsion. The fires of her being seemed to have burned themselves out, +and even her feeling to Lorimer shared in her general apathy. In the +weeks which had followed his death, she had made up her mind that the +baby would be fashioned in his image; and she accepted the fact +philosophically, as a part of her life from which there was no appeal. + +From the first, the baby was a quiet child. Apparently he shared his +mother's apathy towards all things, and he lay by the hour in a sluggish +drowse, leaving his mother free to allow her thoughts to wander at will. +They did wander, too. Lying there, passive, in her luxurious room, +Beatrix's mind scaled the heights of heaven, sounded the depths of hell. +The one had lain within her reach; but she had never known it until too +late. The other had crossed her path in the past; it was opening before +her future. Her baby boy, so plainly created in the physical likeness of +his father, could not have failed to receive something of his moral +nature. She quailed before the grim promise of the future and, drawing +the blanket over her face, she tried to shut out the sight and the +thought of her child. And, in the first weeks of her wedded life, she +had so longed for the time when a baby head should cuddle into the curve +of her arm! At the thought, she pulled the blanket away again +impetuously and, of its own accord, her arm tightened around the little +bundle of flannels. He was not entirely Lorimer's child; he was her +own, her very own. He must have inherited something of the sturdy +constitution, the steady nerves of the Danes. The stronger, better blood +was bound to triumph; and she would work unceasingly to oust that other +taint from his nature. He was her child; she loved him, and she would +give her life to the training which should make him able to wipe out the +stain upon his father's record. + +July was burning the white asphalt streets, before Beatrix was strong +enough to be moved to Monomoy. Bobby dropped in to see her, the +afternoon before she left town. + +"Funny little beggar!" he observed, as he sat down opposite Beatrix and +gravely inspected the baby in her arms. + +"What do you think of him?" Beatrix asked, while she smoothed down the +wholly superfluous skirt and then, tilting the baby forward, +straightened the frills on the back of his little yoke. + +"Oh, he's not so bad as he might be," Bobby responded encouragingly, as +he snapped his fingers in the face of the child who stared back at him +impassively. + +The mother's face flushed. + +"What do you mean, Bobby?" she asked a little sharply. + +Too late, Bobby saw his blunder. In his consternation, he blundered yet +more. + +"I had no idea he would be half so presentable a boy. Just the living +image of Lorimer; isn't he?" + +"You see it, too?" + +Bobby was at a loss to interpret the sudden incisive note in her voice. +No one had warned him that the baby's likeness to his father had been a +forbidden subject, and he could not know that Beatrix, in brooding over +the matter, had reached a point where she questioned whether the +resemblance might not exist solely in her own imagination. Bobby's next +words annulled that hope and confirmed her fears. + +"He's as like him as two peas, cunning as he can be. There, boy, look at +your Uncle Bobby!" Bobby bent forward and with his forefinger gently +tilted the little face upward. "Lorimer's eyes to perfection," he +observed. Then, as he met Beatrix's eyes, he suddenly understood their +wild appeal. Dropping the baby's chin, he laid his hand on his cousin's +shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about that, Beatrix," he added reassuringly. +"He probably will take it out in looking, and, for his character, hark +back to some remote Dane or other. Lorimer was a handsome fellow, and +the baby might do worse than look like him. Otherwise, he may go off on +a tangent. Suppose he should take after me, for instance!" + +Bobby spoke cheerily, hoping that Beatrix's laugh would follow his +words. Instead, she caught his hand with her disengaged one and pressed +it fiercely to her cheek. + +"Oh, Bobby, I wish he would!" she cried. + +Bobby looked rather abashed. He and Beatrix had been intimate from their +babyhood; yet neither one of them was prone to self-betrayal, and this +was the most demonstrative scene which had ever taken place between the +cousins. As a rule, they were too sure of each other to feel the need +for expressions of affection. For a minute, Bobby patted Beatrix's cheek +with clumsy gentleness. Then he returned to the baby. + +"Come here, old man! Come to your Uncle Bobby!" he urged, holding out +his hands invitingly. "Come along here." And before Beatrix could utter +a word of protesting caution, the baby was lying in the hollow of +Bobby's elbow and blinking up at his new nurse with round brown eyes. + +Bobby stared down at him benignly. + +"Feels cunning; doesn't he, Beatrix? He seems to fit into one's grip +rather well. One can't help liking the little beggar. By the way, +what's his name?" + +"Sidney," Beatrix responded quietly. + +"The deuce!" In his surprise, Bobby almost dropped the baby. + +Beatrix answered his unspoken thought. + +"Yes, I have decided that it is best. I must meet fate anyway, and I may +as well do it boldly, with a direct challenge. The name won't make any +difference to the baby, and it may help to make me more patient and +forgiving." + +Gently Bobby laid the baby back into Beatrix's arms. Then he rose. + +"No," he said slowly; "it won't make any difference, and it gives the +chance of bringing the name back to its old standing. You may take lots +of comfort with the boy, Beatrix. I hope so with all my heart, for I +know how you need it. Things have gone rather against you, these last +months; but perhaps the bad times are all over now." At the door, he +lingered and looked back. "If you need me at Monomoy, Beatrix, don't +hesitate to send for me. Sometimes it is a comfort to have somebody of +one's own generation within hail." + +Six weeks later, she realized the truth of his words when Bobby came +striding into the room, with the family doctor at his heels. For the +past forty-eight hours, Beatrix had watched convulsion after convulsion +rack the tiny frame, wear itself out and die away, only to be followed +by another and yet another. Under this new sorrow, the grandparents had +given way entirely. They were powerless to help, and Beatrix, pitying +their misery which she knew was more than half for her sake, had sent +them away from the room. For forty-eight hours, she and the nurse had +kept an unbroken vigil; and Beatrix had held herself steady until she +had caught sight of Bobby's strong, happy, pitiful face in the doorway. + +When she came to herself once more, she was lying on the couch in the +hall, with Bobby beside her and Bobby's protecting arm around her +shoulders. + +"It may not be so bad, dear," he was saying soothingly. "Schirmer will +pull him through, if anybody can, and he says it isn't at all hopeless. +Lots of youngsters have convulsions and come out of them, jolly as +grigs." + +Beatrix saw no need for telling him the new fear which had tortured her, +during those endless hours of waiting after she had sent off her +telegram. Instead, she took his sympathy as it was given, with loving +optimism; but she nestled even more closely against her cousin's side, +as if for the hour she gained strength from the touch of his protecting +arm. It was her one spot of perfect restfulness. + +Late that night, Bobby had a talk with the doctor. It left him glad that +already he had spoken with encouragement to Beatrix. The next two days, +he gave his time to her absolutely. Then his official summons came, and +reluctantly he returned to his desk. + +By the time Beatrix was in town again, she was ready to admit to herself +that hopelessness might mean something worse than death. By the end of +the winter, the _might_ had ceased to be potential and had become +actual. Since those August days at Monomoy, the convulsions had recurred +at irregular intervals. The physical constitution of the Danes had +refused to give way to them; the nervous instability of the Lorimers had +yielded to them utterly. Unless some miracle intervened, the child must +face a future of vigorous body and enfeebled brain; and Beatrix, as she +watched him, told herself the melancholy truth that the day of miracles +was irrevocably dead. It seemed to her that the years were stretching +out before her in an empty, unending trail, that she must follow it +alone, hand in hand with her child, bound forever to watch for the +signs of an intellect which never, never should appear. And she was the +one to blame. It was no less her own fault, because she had assumed the +responsibility in arrogant ignoring of its true import. + +One afternoon in late May found her sitting by the open window with the +child in her arms, when Thayer was announced. She greeted him with +something of her old cordiality. Then she rang for the nurse to take +away the baby. + +"When did you get home again?" she asked, when they were seated alone +together. + +"This morning. I landed at ten, and I came directly to you." + +She ignored the eagerness of his tone. + +"You have been wonderfully successful, I am told." + +"Well enough. It was nothing wonderful, though." + +"Bobby has kept me informed of your glories," she insisted, with a +slight smile; "and Mr. Arlt has really enjoyed them as well as if they +had been his own." + +"That is characteristic of Arlt. His letters were noncommittal; but +Bobby says he has had his own fair share of honors. I am glad, for he +deserves them." + +"Indeed he does," she assented heartily. "We all are so glad for him; +and it is a delight to watch the odd, boyish modesty with which he +accepts his own fame. He is the most unspoiled genius I have ever +known." + +There was a short silence. Thayer grew restless under it. He had not +hurried his return, left his luncheon untasted and escaped from a dozen +reporters, in order to sit and discuss Arlt with that black-gowned woman +the tip of whose finger outweighed for him the clumsy honors of the +earth. All the way over, he had paced the steamer's deck by the hour, +planning what words he should say to Beatrix when at last they stood +face to face, with only the long-buried dead between them. He had +supposed that lie had learned his lesson by heart. Nevertheless, now +that he was at last in her presence, his words fled from his mind. +Beatrix broke the silence. + +"You have seen Bobby, then?" + +"He met me at the steamer." + +She raised her eyes to his, half-appealingly, half-defiantly. + +"And he told you--" + +"He has told me everything," Thayer interrupted her. He rose restlessly, +crossed the room to the mantel and examined a vase with unseeing eyes. +Then, returning, he halted directly before her, straightened his +shoulders and drew a deep, full breath. "Beatrix?" he said unsteadily. + +She shrank from before the words she had been dreading for so long. + +"Don't!" she begged him. + +"But I must." His voice was steady now. "We both of us know the truth, +and the time has come when we can acknowledge it. I have waited long, +dear, long and patiently. For fifteen months, I have left you to +yourself and to the past. Now it is time for the future. I have come +home, Beatrix, to marry you at last." + +Before the glad tenderness that thrilled in his tone, she sank back in +her deep chair and buried her face in her hands. Thayer waited quietly, +patiently. He had told his story; he could afford to wait for her +answer, since he never doubted what it was to be. The silence between +them lasted for moments. From upstairs in another part of the house, +there came a fretful childish cry. Then the stillness dropped again. At +length, Beatrix let her hands fall into her lap. There was an instant of +utter listlessness; then quietly she rose and stood facing him, drawn to +her full height. Her cheeks were white, her eyes unstained by any tears, +her voice quite level. + +"I am sorry," she said slowly; "but what you ask is impossible." + +He started, as if struck with a lash. + +"What do you mean?" + +"That I cannot marry you." + +He stared at her in amazement, while the color left his cheeks and then +rushed again to his temples where the veins stood out like knotted +cords. For the moment, he was angry, baffled by the shock of her +unexpected answer. Then he mastered himself. + +"Do you not love me any longer?" he asked. + +"Any longer?" Her tone sought to express haughty disdain; but her eyes +drooped before the fire in his own. + +"Never mind the words," he said sharply. "In times like this, one can't +stop to pick for rhetorical effects. It is enough that I love you with +all the manhood there is in me, and that for months I have counted upon +winning your love in return. And now--" + +She interrupted him. + +"And now you have found out your mistake," she said sadly. + +"Yes." There was a long interval of silence, before he added, "And is +this final?" + +"It is." Her stiffened lips could scarcely form the words. + +He turned to go away. All the alertness which had marked his coming had +dropped away from him. He moved slowly and with drooping shoulders. +Already his face had grown haggard underneath the bronzing of his sea +voyage. Beatrix stood motionless, watching him, struggling to master +herself, to hold herself firmly to her resolve which had been taking +shape within her, during all that past winter and spring. + +Halfway across the room, Thayer hesitated, turned and came back to her +side. + +"Beatrix," he said impetuously; "we may as well face this thing +squarely. It won't be the first time. We didn't wreck the future then; +we mustn't do it now. The cases are different, though. This time, the +danger lies in half-truths. We must speak plainly." + +She attempted to check him; but, for the once, she was powerless to stem +the tide of his words, and he hurried on,-- + +"We loved each other. There is no disloyalty to Lorimer in admitting it +now. He belonged to the past, and, in that past, you belonged to him. +The past is over and ended now, and, for the future, we must belong to +each other. It is for that that I am here." + +She tried in vain to control her voice. Then she shook her head. + +"What has come between us?" he demanded. "You did love me. Look up, +Beatrix! Yes, your eyes tell the truth about it. You love me now; I am +here to prove it, and to marry you in spite of yourself." + +Gently she put away his arms and faced him. + +"No. It is impossible." + +He wavered before the finality of her tone. + +"But you love me," he urged. + +She was silent, and stood with her eyes fixed on the floor at his feet. +Then, of a sudden, she raised her eyes to his, and Thayer was dazzled by +the light that was shining in them. + +"Yes," she answered, with a quiet dignity which he could not gainsay. +"And that is the very reason that I will not marry you. I love you too +well--so well that I can never allow you to become the father of Sidney +Lorimer's child." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + + +"I believe my world is overcrowded," Sally said, one January afternoon, +two years later. + +"Arlt, why don't you take the hint?" Bobby asked languidly. "I am too +comfortable to stir, and she evidently wishes to get rid of somebody." + +"Possibly she means me; but I was the last to come, so I shall outstay +you both," Miss Gannion said, laughing. "At least, Sally, your +hospitality does you credit." + +With leisurely fingers, Sally was opening her teaball; but Bobby +interposed. + +"I wouldn't make any tea for us, Sally. I know you are afraid it may not +hold out for your crowded universe, and we three have been here often +enough to have dispelled any illusions about the quality of your cups. +Two are cracked, and one has a nick exactly in the spot where we drink. +I suspect Arlt of having cut his wisdom teeth on it." + +"Only women cut their wisdom teeth on a teacup," Miss Gannion observed. +"But really, Sally, I would save my tea until the crowd shows itself." + +Sally shook her head. + +"You interrupted me in the midst of my thesis." + +Bobby interrupted again. + +"It is our only chance to get in a word. We have to insert its thin edge +at a comma, or else keep still. You never have any conversational +semicolons, to say nothing of periods." + +"As I was saying," Sally repeated pertinaciously; "my world is +overcrowded. I have so many acquaintances that I never get time to enjoy +my friends." + +"What about now?" Bobby queried. "Here are we, and here is time. Which +is lacking: enjoyment, or friendship?" + +"Oh, this is an interlude, and doesn't count. We shall just get into the +midst of a little rational conversation, though, and two or three stupid +people will come in and reduce us to talking about the weather." + +"You might send out cards," Arlt suggested, with the hesitating accent +which was so characteristic of him. "Why not announce that on Tuesdays +you are at home to clever people and friends only?" + +"Yes; but it is no subject for joking," Sally persisted. "Last Tuesday +in all that storm, for the first time this winter, Mr. Thayer came to +see me. I know how busy he is, and I was just preparing to make the most +of his call, when Mrs. Stanley came swishing and creaking into the room, +and she babbled about her servants and her lumbago until Mr. Thayer took +his departure. I wanted to administer poison." + +"Try an anodyne," Bobby advised her. "They say that stout people yield +easily to their influence. By the way, why is it polite to call a woman +stout, but rude in the extreme to dub her fat? That is one of the +problems I have never been able to solve. I used the wrong word in +regard to Mrs. Stanley, one night, and she overheard me. Since then, she +hauls in her latch-string hand over hand, whenever I turn the corner." + +"Do you mind, Bobby?" Sally inquired. "The two most peaceful years of my +social life were the years immediately following the day I advised Mrs. +Stanley not to attempt _Juliet_ in public. Lately, I have wished that +her memory were just a bit more retentive. Tell me, has anybody seen +Beatrix, this week?" + +"She was at Carnegie Hall, last night." + +Arlt's face brightened. + +"Really?" + +"Yes, I coaxed her into going. You ought to feel honored, Arlt; it is +the first music she has heard, this season." + +"Hasn't she been to hear Mr. Thayer?" + +"No; she hasn't heard him since his first season. I tell her she has no +idea how he has developed, nor how much she is losing; but she seems to +have lost her love for music." + +"Poor, dear girl! I don't wonder," Sally said impetuously. + +But Arlt interposed. + +"Isn't there a certain comfort to be gained from it?" he asked. "I +hoped--I had thought music was to inspire and help people, not to amuse +them." + +"It does in theory," Bobby returned; "only now and then it reminds one +of things, and upsets the whole scheme of inspiration. But I was +surprised that Beatrix went, last night." + +"What did she say?" Arlt inquired, with a frankness which yet bore no +taint of egotism. + +"Not very much; but her face at the close of your _Andante_ told the +story. You touched her on the raw, Arlt; but you roused her pluck to +bear it. I think she will send you a note, to-day." + +"I wonder if you realize what an event for your friends this symphony +was," Sally broke in. + +Arlt smiled. With growing manhood, his gravity also had grown; but his +slow little smile caused his face to light wonderfully. Denied all claim +to beauty, there was a great charm in the simple, modest dignity with +which he bore himself. He answered Sally's last words with an +earnestness that became him well. + +"Without my friends, my symphony would have been left unwritten." + +"And it was a perfect success," Sally added. + +"Success is never perfect," he returned a little sadly. "Its merit must +lie in its incompleteness, for that just urges us on to something +beyond. The success on which we rest, is no better than a failure. Some +day, I shall begin my ideal symphony; but, by the time I have reached my +final _Maestoso_, I shall have learned that my ideal has moved on again +beyond my reach." + +"In other words, a real genius is nothing but an artistic +butter-fingers," Bobby commented irreverently. "Stop your German +philosophizing, Arlt, and help us enjoy the present by playing your +_Scherzo_. Thayer says it is by far the best thing you have ever done." + +Obediently Arlt crossed to the piano. In his absorption in his symphony, +he had by no means allowed his skill as a pianist to rust for want of +use, and a little sigh of utter content went around the group, as they +heard the dainty, clashing notes answer to the touch of his fingers. He +was in the full rhythm of his _Scherzo_, playing, humming, or whistling, +according to his whim and to the demands of the orchestral score, when +Sally gave a sudden exclamation of warning. + +"Behold the crowd! Here endeth the interlude! Enter Mrs. Lloyd Avalons!" + +"What in thunder is that woman doing here, Sally?" Bobby demanded, as +Arlt's fingers dropped from the keys in the very midst of a phrase. + +Sally shrugged her shoulders with the petulant gesture of a naughty +child. + +"How in thunder should I know, Bobby? I wish you'd ask her." + +"No use. She never takes a hint." + +A sudden change came over the group, as Mrs. Lloyd Avalons tripped +daintily into the room. Miss Gannion straightened herself in her chair +and took refuge in her lorgnette; Arlt's artistic fire extinguished +itself, and he once more became the taciturn young German, while Sally +assumed certain of the characteristics of a frozen olive. Bobby, +however, continued to smile upon the room with unabated serenity. + +"What a delight to find you here!" Mrs. Lloyd Avalons exclaimed, as she +took Sally's hand. + +"Miss Van Osdel has unsuspected depths to her nature," Bobby observed +gravely. "Long as I have known her, Mrs. Avalons, I assure you I have +never succeeded in finding her out." + +"Oh--yes. How like you that is, Mr. Dane! But I was including you all." + +"Taking us all in?" Bobby queried. + +"Taking us just as you find us," Sally added. "You also take tea, I +think, Mrs. Avalons?" + +"You'd better," Bobby urged, with inadvertent pointedness. "We were just +saying that Miss Van Osdel brews wisdom mingled with her tea." + +"Bobby!" Sally adjured him, in a horrified whisper; but Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons had already turned to Arlt. + +"I am so glad to meet you here, Mr. Arlt. All your friends, to-day, are +eager to congratulate you on your wonderful symphony." + +"Yes." Arlt's tone was scarcely ingratiating, as he stirred his tea +violently. + +"Yes, it was beautiful, so sweet and harmonious. Really, you are quite +taking the city by storm. You must be very busy to do so much writing. +Don't you get very tired?" + +"Sometimes." Arlt emptied his cup at a gulp. + +"Oh, you must! But it is worth tiring one's poor head, to achieve such +splendid results. But don't you ever rest? All winter long, I have been +hoping you would find time to drop in on me, some Thursday." + +"Thank you." Arlt attacked his extra lump of sugar with his spoon. +Eluding his touch, it flew across the room and landed at Bobby's feet. +Stooping down, Bobby rescued it and gravely handed it back to Arlt. + +"Try it again, old man," he said encouragingly. "You'll get the proper +range in time." + +But Mrs. Lloyd Avalons returned to the charge. + +"Well, as long as you won't come to me, I must seize my chance here, if +Miss Van Osdel will excuse me. We are getting up a concert for the +benefit of the Allied Day Nurseries, Mr. Arlt. It is to be very select +indeed, only artists of established reputation are to be invited to take +part, and we shall keep the price of the tickets up high enough to shut +out any undesirable people who might otherwise come. We are counting on +you for two numbers." + +"But I cannot play." + +"In other words, Mrs. Avalons," Bobby remarked: "you'll have to discount +Arlt." + +"But we must have him," Mrs. Lloyd Avalons said, in real dismay. "We +never thought of his refusing." + +Arlt shook his head in grim silence. + +Mrs. Lloyd Avalons took refuge in cajolery. + +"Oh, but you must! We can't spare you, Mr. Arlt. If you don't care for +the charity, you'll do it for me; won't you?" + +Deliberately Arlt packed the sugar and the spoon into his cup, and set +the cup down on the table. Then he turned to face Mrs. Lloyd Avalons +squarely. + +"On the contrary, that is the very reason I cannot do it, Mrs. Lloyd +Avalons. When Miss Gannion introduced me to you as Mr. Thayer's +accompanist and a pianist who needed engagements, you wished to refuse +me a place on your programme. Now that others have been good enough to +listen to me, you can make room for two numbers by me. I am very sorry; +but I shall be unable to accept your invitation." + +There was no underlying rancor in the slow, deliberate syllables; they +were merely the statement of an indisputable fact. Most women would +have accepted them in silence. Not so with Mrs. Lloyd Avalons. + +"But you played for Miss Van Osdel, last week," she persisted. + +Arlt rose to his feet. + +"Yes, I played for Miss Van Osdel, last week, just as I hope to have the +pleasure of playing for her many times more in the future. However, that +is quite a different matter. Miss Van Osdel and I are very old friends, +and it will always be one of my very greatest pleasures to be entirely +at her service." He made a quaint little bow in Sally's direction, and +his face lighted with the friendly, humorous smile she knew so well. +Then he added, "And now I must bid you all a very good afternoon." + +He bowed again and walked away, with his simple dignity unruffled to the +last. Society might bless him, or society might ban. Nevertheless, it +was by no means Arlt's intention to turn his art into a species of +lap-dog, to come trotting in at society's call, and then be dismissed to +the outer darkness again, so soon as the round of its tricks was +accomplished. Egotism Arlt had not; but his independence shrank at no +one of the corollaries of his creed of art. + +Bobby lingered after the others had gone away. + +"I say, Sally," he remarked at length, apparently apropos of nothing in +particular; "how does it happen that you have never married me?" + +[Illustration: "'I believe I might as well ask you now'"] + +"Probably for the very excellent reason that you have never asked me," +Sally responded frankly. + +With his hands in his pockets, Bobby sauntered across to the sofa where +she was sitting. There he stood contemplating her for a moment. Then he +settled himself at her side. + +"Well," he said slowly; "I believe I might as well ask you now." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + + +"I almost made a whole poem about you," Bobby said to Thayer, one night. +Thayer laughed. + +"How far did you get?" + +"The last line." + +"Then you actually did make one." + +Bobby shook his head. + +"Oh, no. I only made the next to the last line and the last. Then the +inspiration gave out." + +"What was it?" Thayer asked idly. + +The mirth left Bobby's face, and he looked up at his companion almost +defiantly. + + "Forget the things we cannot, + And face the things we must," + +he said slowly. + +The dark red leaped up into Thayer's face, as he looked at Bobby keenly. + +"How long have you known it?" + +"Since the day I told you they had come home from abroad. You sang _St. +Paul_, that night, you may remember, and afterwards I advised you to go +into grand opera. A fellow with a voice like yours can't expect to have +any secrets of his own." Bobby paused; then he added thoughtfully, "Life +is bound to be a good deal of a bluff for us all." + +Thayer walked on in silence for seven or eight blocks. + +"What do you think about it?" he asked then. + +"I think that I would almost delay my own wedding, for the sake of being +your best man." + +"And yet, she says it is impossible," Thayer said thoughtfully. + +"When was that?" + +"Two years ago, when I came home from Europe." + +"Oh!" Bobby said slowly, as the light dawned upon him. "That was the +blow that floored you, that summer; was it? I never knew. What was the +trouble? The child?" + +Thayer's assent was rather curt in its brevity. Bobby's blunt, kindly +questions hurt him; yet, after all, there was a sort of comfort in the +hurt. After two years of silence, it was a relief to be able to speak of +his trouble. It had grown no more, no less with the passing months; it +was just what it had been, at the close of that warm May afternoon. + +"Do you know, I rather like Beatrix for the stand she has taken," Bobby +said meditatively. "She has the sense to know that, if she married you +and made you share the responsibility of that child, it would knock your +singing higher than a kite." + +Thayer interrupted him impatiently. + +"How much does my singing amount to me in comparison with my love for +Beatrix? I would cancel my engagements, to-morrow, if she would say the +word." + +"But, thank the Lord, she won't," Bobby replied placidly. "Don't be an +ass, Thayer. It is a popular fiction that an artist is expected to give +up his work for the sake of matrimony; but it's an immoral fable. The +gods have endowed you with a voice, and you have no business to fling +away the gift, when your keeping it can do so much good in the world. +You owe something to humanity, and a lot more back to the gods who gave +you the voice; you have no moral right to do anything that will hinder +your paying that debt. Beatrix knows this. She knows what would be the +inevitable effect of saddling you with the child, and she is right in +her decision." + +"Has she been talking the matter over with you?" Thayer asked, with +sudden jealousy. + +Bobby laughed scornfully. + +"No need. I have eyes of my own, and I learned my _Barbara Celarent_ in +junior year." + +Another block was passed in silence. Then Thayer asked,-- + +"Do you see Mrs. Lorimer often?" + +"Every day or so. I drop in there when I can, for she's not going out +much, and she needs to see more people." + +"How is she?" + +"I don't know how to tell you," Bobby answered, while a note of sadness +crept into his voice. "She is giving her life to that child; and, unless +you know the child, you can't imagine the wear and tear of such an +existence. I don't know which would be worse, the watching for the +intellect which never comes, or the waiting for the convulsions that +do." + +"What will be the end of it all?" Thayer broke out impetuously. + +Bobby shook his head. + +"God knows," he said drearily. + +Bobby spoke truly, for already it seemed that the divine plan was made +to take the imperfect little life back into its keeping. A sudden chill, +a sudden cold, and then the grim word, pneumonia! For days, Beatrix and +the nurse hung over the child, struggling almost against hope to conquer +the disease. Then it was that Beatrix realized how truly she had loved +her little son, how she would miss even the constant pain of his +presence. He was her very own, the one being in the world who belonged +absolutely to her; and she fought for his life with the fierceness of +despair. Then, just as it seemed that she had triumphed and the child +was out of danger, the same insidious foe which had ended Lorimer's +life, attacked the life of his child. + +Alone in the dusky room, Beatrix was sitting on the edge of the bed, her +arm around the boy who had just snuggled down for the night. Drowsily +his lids drooped; then he opened his eyes, met her eyes and struggled up +to reach her face. + +"Mamma, kiss!" he begged. + +That was all. Weakened by disease, the heart had been powerless to bear +the strain of the sudden motion, and the boy fell into his final sleep, +cradled in his mother's arms. + +That night, Thayer sang _The Flying Dutchman_ in the same city where, +four years before, he had sung _St. Paul_. He had not been there, during +the intervening time; but his public had been faithful to his memory, +and the little opera house was packed to its utmost limits to do honor +to its former favorite, as well as to its one-night opera season. For +some unaccountable reason, Thayer had liked the place. Both the house +and the audience had pleased him, and it had been at his own request +that the manager had put on _The Flying Dutchman_, for that night. + +During the last few months, _The Dutchman_ had become Thayer's favorite +role. Even _Valentine_ had palled upon him in time. Lingering deaths +become monotonous. When one dies them, four or five times a week, he +longs to hasten the course of events, to change the _Andante_ to a +_Prestissimo_. To Thayer's later mood, it seemed that, psychologically +speaking, _Valentine_ belonged to the ranks of the tenors. His riper +manhood demanded something a little more robust. + +Thayer never admitted to himself that his liking for _The Dutchman_ came +from the personal interpretation which he put upon the story. In some +moods, he would have scoffed at the idea that there could be any +connection between himself, the successful artist whose single surname +on the bill boards could suffice to fill a house, and the wretched +_Dutchman_ whose one defiance hurled at fate had condemned him to +life-long wandering over the face of the deep. Of course, he wandered, +too; but it was by easy stages and by means of Pullmans. The parallelism +failed utterly. Still, there was the possibility of ultimate salvation +gained through the faithful love of a woman. Nevertheless, Thayer's +analysis always brought him to the conclusion that he liked the opera +because his death scene was consummated in the brief space of two +measures. + +Thayer was feeling uncommonly alert and content, that night, and, +moreover, he liked his audience. Accordingly, he gave them of his best. +Never had his voice been richer, never had it rung with more dramatic +power than when, in his aria of the first act, he had ended his lament +with the declaration of his inevitable release on the slow-coming +Judgment Day. Then he stood waiting, a huge, lonely, brooding figure, +square-shouldered, square-jawed, defiant of fate, while softly the +chorus of sailors in the hold below echoed the closing phrase of his +song. + +Even into Thayer's experience, no such ovation had ever come before. At +first, the audience sat breathless, as if stunned by the might of his +tragedy. Then the applause came crashing down from the galleries, up +from the floor, in from the boxes, focussing itself from all sides upon +that single, lonely, dominant figure before it. And Cotton Mather +Thayer, as he listened with a quiet, impassive face, felt his heart +leaping and bounding within him. He knew, by an instinct which he had +learned to trust completely, that in the years to come, he would never +reach a greater height of artistic success than he had done just then. +One such experience could justify many a year of halting indecision. +Puritan to the core, he yet had proved true to his Slavonic birthright. + +As he left the stage with _Senta_ at the end of the second act, a +messenger handed him a card. + +"The gentleman is waiting," he added. "He said he must see you, and that +he was in a hurry." + +Thayer glanced at the card. + +"Bring him to my dressing-room," he said. + +He glanced up in surprise, as the door opened and Bobby Dane entered. He +had expected to see Bobby, immaculate in evening clothes, come strolling +lazily in to congratulate him, as he had so often done before when +Thayer had sung in cities near New York. Instead, Bobby was still in +morning dress, and his face and manner betokened some great excitement. + +"I only heard your duet," he said abruptly; "but they are saying you +have outdone yourself. Will it break up your part, if I tell you some +news?" + +Thayer paled suddenly. + +"Is Beatrix--" + +"No; but the boy died at six o'clock, this afternoon. I went to the +house; but I found there was nothing I could do, so I caught the seven +o'clock train and came up to tell you. Sure it won't upset your +singing?" + +Thayer shook his head impatiently. + +"I've borne worse shocks, Dane, and gone on warbling as if nothing had +happened. Did Beatrix send for me?" + +"No. I only saw her for a minute. But I thought perhaps you would like +to go to her at once. She may need you." + +Thayer held out his hand. + +"This is like you, Dane. Thank you," he said briefly, as his man came to +warn him that _The Dutchman's_ crew had begun their chorus. + +Bobby followed him into the wings. + +"There's a train down at two o'clock," he suggested. "Shall we take +that?" + +"The sooner, the better." + +"I'll get the places, then, and meet you at the hotel afterwards." And +Bobby departed, just as the strings and wind gave out their +announcement of _The Dutchman's_ presence. + +In the years to come, Thayer never knew how he went through that final +scene. It was the automatic obedience of an artistic nature to its years +of careful training. He was conscious of hearing no note from the +orchestra, no sound from his own lips. His whole being was centred in +the thought that at last Beatrix was free; that, in her final freedom, +they must face the ultimate crisis of their destinies. Would it be for +weal, or for woe? His brain refused to give back answer to the question. +And, meanwhile, the close-packed audience was thrilling with the +passionate pain of his accepted doom. + +The crash of the renewed applause aroused him from his absorption and, +hand in hand with _Senta_, he emerged from his watery grave to bow his +appreciation. But it was not enough. Even to his dressing-room, he was +pursued by the cries of his name. Yielding reluctantly, he went out +before the curtain once again. Then he hurried back, and began tearing +off his costume with a feverish haste which took no account of the time +before he could get a train back to New York. + +As Thayer's cab turned into the familiar street and stopped at the door +of the Lorimers' house, the gray dawn was breaking. Before its wan +color, the street lamps turned to a sickly yellow, and the asphalt +street stretched away between them like a long chalky ruler bordered +with dots of luminous paint. Above him, the lights in the house glared +out across the sombre dawn, and something in their steady, unsympathetic +glow, in the gray dawn and in the yellowing lamps carried Thayer's mind +far back to that other winter morning when he had hurried through the +storm to be with Beatrix in her hour of need. + +The old butler opened the door to him, and took his coat. Then he +pointed towards the library. + +"She is there," he said softly, with an odd little quaver in his thin +old voice. "I think you may go to her." + +Thayer crossed the hall, laid his hand on the door, then hesitated. For +an instant, he shrank from the scene that might be before him. Then +instinctively he drew himself up and pushed open the door. + +"Beatrix?" he said. + +The color rushed to her face, as she sprang up and held out her hands. + +"Thank God, you have come!" + + + * * * * * + + +=Little, Brown, and Co.'s New Novels= + +_The Siege of Youth._ By FRANCES CHARLES, author of "In the Country God +Forgot." Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + This is a story of the present day, and its scene is San Francisco, + the author's home. It deals with art, with journalism, and with + human nature, and its love episodes are charming and true to life. + The three women characters of the book are finely drawn and + contrasted, there is much local color in the story, and a great + deal of bright and epigrammatic writing. The author's previous + book, "In the Country God Forgot," has been received with the + utmost favor. The _Boston Daily Advertiser_ says it "discloses a + new writer of uncommon power." + +=Barbara, a Woman of the West.= By JOHN H. WHITSON. Illustrated by Chase +Emerson. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + A distinctively American novel, dealing with life in the far West, + and in many ways remarkable, with a novel plot and unusual + situations. The scenes of the story are a Western ranch, Cripple + Creek, and the City of San Diego. The heroine, Barbara, is the + loyal wife of a somewhat self-centred man of literary tastes, Roger + Timberly, living on a ranch in Kansas. Barbara's long and patient + quest for her husband, who has gone to Cripple Creek to visit a + mine, the means which she adopts to support herself, the ardor with + which she is wooed by Gilbert Bream, and the complications which + ensue are extremely interesting. + +=The Shadow of the Czar.= By JOHN R. CARLING. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. _Fifth Edition_. + + An engrossing romance of the sturdy, wholesome sort, in which the + action is never allowed to drag, best describes this popular novel. + "The Shadow of the Czar" is a stirring story of the romantic + attachment of a dashing English officer for Princess Barbara, of + the old Polish Principality of Czernova, and the conspiracy of the + Duke of Bora, aided by Russia, to dispossess the princess of her + throne. + +=The Dominant Strain.= A Novel. By ANNA CHAPIN RAY, author of "Teddy, her +Book," etc. Illustrated in color by Harry C. Edwards. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. + + Anna Chapin Ray's new novel has for its hero Cotton Mather Thayer, + whose father was a Boston blueblood, and whose mother was a Russian + musician. The latter gave to him his musical temperament, and the + title of the book suggests the author's main motif--the warring + strains, Puritan and Slav, in her hero. The central idea is the + mistake a woman makes who attempts to reform a man after marriage. + Beatrix Dane, the heroine of the book, discovers during her + engagement that Lorimer, her lover, has an inherited appetite for + drink, but from a mistaken sense of duty does not break her troth, + and her intimate friends shrink from any interference. Much of the + novel has a decidedly musical atmosphere, and the attitude of some + portions of New York society toward musical people is well + described. + +=A Detached Pirate.= By HELEN MILCETE. Illustrated in color by I. H. +Caliga. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + A misunderstanding, a divorce, and a reconciliation furnish the + theme of this bright, clever, witty, society novel. The events + occur in London, in Halifax and its garrison, and in New York; and + the story is told by Gay Vandeleur, a very charming heroine. The + book will entertain and delight all who read it. + +=The Pharaoh and the Priest.= Translated from the original Polish of +ALEXANDER GLOVATSKI, by JEREMIAH CURTIN. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. _Fifth Edition_. + + A powerful portrayal of Ancient Egypt in the eleventh century + before Christ is this novel in which Alexander Glovatski has + vividly depicted the pitiless struggle between the pharaoh and the + priesthood for supremacy. "Here is a historical novel in the best + sense," says the _New York Commercial Advertiser_, "a novel which + makes a vanished civilization live again." + +=Love Thrives in War.= A Romance of the Frontier in 1812. By MARY +CATHERINE CROWLEY, author of "A Daughter of New France," "The Heroine of +the Strait," etc. Illustrated by Clyde O. De Land. 12mo. Decorated +cloth, $1.50. + + The surrender of General Howe and his American army to the British + and their Indian allies under Tecumseh, and other stirring events + of the War of 1812 form the historical background of Miss Crowley's + latest romance. The reader's interest is at once centered in the + heroine, Laurente Macintosh, a pretty and coquettish Scotch girl. + The many incidents which occur in the vicinity of Detroit are + related with skill and grace. The characters, real and fictitious, + are strongly contrasted. Miss Crowley's new romance is strongly + imaginative and picturesquely written, wholesome, inspiring, and + absorbing. + +=The Wars of Peace.= By A. F. WILSON Illustrated by H. C. Ireland. 12mo. +Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + A strong and skilfully constructed novel upon a subject of the + greatest importance and interest at the present time,--"Trusts" and + their consequences. Albion Harding, a successful and immensely + ambitious financier, organizes an industrial combination which + causes much suffering and disaster, and eventually alienates his + only son, who, declining to enter the "Trust," withdraws his + capital from his father's business, and buys a small mill and + attempts to manage it according to his own ideas. The account of + the destruction of Theodore Harding's mill, and his rescue, is + dramatic, vivid, and thrilling. + +=A Prince of Sinners.= By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM, author of "A Millionaire +of Yesterday," "The Traitors," etc. Illustrated. 12mo. $1.50. + + An engrossing story of English social life told by a skilled hand. + Lord Arranmore, returning to England after an absence of twenty + misspent years, finds his manly son, Kingston Brooks, unforgiving, + and determined to work out his own career. The difficulties with + which Brooks meets in carrying out his purpose, the attempts of + Lord Arranmore to assist him, together with the divided love + interest, make up an ingenious present-day romance, which possesses + an extraordinary fascination. + + +=A Rose of Normandy.= By WILLIAM R. A. WILSON. Illustrated by Ch. +Grunwald. 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. + + A most entertaining historical romance of France and Canada in the + reign of Louis XIV. Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle, and his + faithful lieutenant, Henri de Tonti, are leading characters, the + latter being the hero of the book. The explorations of La Salle, + his hardships and adventures, the love of Tonti for Renee, the + "Rose of Normandy," their escapes from the Indians, and other + adventures, make up a story which the author has told with great + spirit. + +=The Spoils of Empire.= A Romance of the Old World and the New. By FRANCIS +NEWTON THORPE, author of "The Constitutional History of the United +States," etc. Illustrated by Frank B. Masters. 12mo. Decorated cloth, +$1.50. + + The Spanish Inquisition and the wondrous splendor and power of + Mexico in the time of Montezuma furnish the rich historical + background of this brilliant and absorbing romance. The conquest of + Mexico by the adventurous Spaniards is vividly described; and the + passion of Juan Estoval, a follower of Cortez, for the beautiful + Aztec princess, Dorothea, the daughter of Montezuma, furnishes a + tender and charming love story. + +=Sarah Tuldon.= A Woman Who Had Her Way. By ORME AGNUS, author of "Love in +Our Village," "Jan Oxber," etc. Illustrated. 12mo. Decorated cloth, +$1.50. + + A remarkable study of an English peasant girl of strong character + who was developed by the circumstances of her life into a fine, + noble-hearted, and generous woman. Sarah Tuldon is a very unusual, + original, and racy type of character, and outside of Thomas Hardy's + books there is no such realistic study of conditions which exist in + England to-day among the laborers, as that given in the pages of + this story. The author has genuine humor and pathos and great + dramatic skill. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dominant Strain, by Anna Chapin Ray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOMINANT STRAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 29760.txt or 29760.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/6/29760/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/29760.zip b/29760.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b82a039 --- /dev/null +++ b/29760.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8eb321 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #29760 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29760) |
