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diff --git a/35463.txt b/35463.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f897bd --- /dev/null +++ b/35463.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14677 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The High Heart, by Basil King + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The High Heart + +Author: Basil King + +Release Date: March 3, 2011 [EBook #35463] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIGH HEART *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Watson, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + + + + + Books by the + AUTHOR OF "THE INNER SHRINE" + + [BASIL KING] + + THE HIGH HEART. Illustrated. + THE LIFTED VEIL. Illustrated. + THE SIDE OF THE ANGELS. Illustrated. + THE LETTER OF THE CONTRACT. Illustrated. + THE WAY HOME. Illustrated. + THE WILD OLIVE. Illustrated. + THE INNER SHRINE. Illustrated. + THE STREET CALLED STRAIGHT. Illustrated. + LET NOT MAN PUT ASUNDER. Post 8vo. + IN THE GARDEN OF CHARITY. Post 8vo. + THE STEPS OF HONOR. Post 8vo. + THE GIANT'S STRENGTH. Post 8vo. + + + HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK + Established 1817 + + + + +[Illustration: "I've been thinking a good deal during the past few weeks +of your law of Right"] + + + + + THE HIGH HEART + + BY + BASIL KING + + AUTHOR OF + "_The Inner Shrine_" "_The Lifted Veil_" _Etc._ + + ILLUSTRATED + + + + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + + The High Heart + + Copyright, 1917, by Harper & Brothers + Printed in the United States of America + Published September, 1917 + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "I've Been Thinking a Good Deal During the + Past Few Weeks of Your Law of Right" _Frontispiece_ + + The Marriage She Had Missed Was on Her Mind. + It Created an Obsession or a Broken Heart, + I Wasn't Quite Sure Which _Facing p._ 118 + + I Saw a Man and a Woman Consumed with Longing + for Each Other " 192 + + "I've Had Great Trials . . . I've Always Been + Misjudged. . . . They've Put Me Down as + Hard and Proud" " 410 + + + + + THE HIGH HEART + + + CHAPTER I + + +I could not have lived in the Brokenshire circle for nearly a year +without recognizing the fact that in the eyes of his family J. Howard, +as he was commonly called by the world, was the Great Dispenser; but my +first intimation that he meant to act in that capacity toward me came +from Larry Strangways, on a bright July morning during the summer of +1913, when we were at Newport. + +I was crossing the lawn, going toward the sea, with little Gladys +Rossiter, to whom I acted as companion in the hours when she was out of +the nursery, with a specific duty to speak French. Larry Strangways was +tutor to the Rossiter boy, and in our relative positions we were bound +to exercise toward each other a good deal of discretion. We fraternized +with constraint. We fraternized because--well, chiefly because we +couldn't help it. In the mocking flare of his eye, which contradicted +the assumed young gravity of his manner, I read an opinion of the +Rossiter household and of the Brokenshire family in general similar to +my own. That would have been enough for mutual comprehension had there +been no instinctive sympathies between us; but there were. Allowing for +the fact that we were of different nationalities, we had the same kind +of antecedents; we spoke the same kind of social language; we had the +same kind of aims in life. Neither of us regarded the position in the +Rossiter establishment as a permanent status. He was a tutor merely for +the minute, while feeling his way to that first rung of the ladder which +I was convinced would lead him to some high place in American life. I +was a nursery governess only on the way to getting married. Matrimony +was the continent toward which more or less consciously I had been +traveling for five or six years, without having actually descried a +port. In this connection I may relate a little incident which had taken +place between myself and Mrs. Rossiter after I had accepted my situation +in her family. It will retard my meeting with Larry Strangways on the +lawn, but it will throw light on it when it comes. + +I had met Mrs. Rossiter, who was J. Howard Brokenshire's daughter, in +the way that is known as socially. I never understood why she should +have taken a house for the summer in our quiet old town of Halifax, +unless she was urged to it by the vague restlessness which was one of +her characteristics. But there she was in a roomy old brick mansion I +had known all my life, with gardens and conservatories and lawns running +down to the fiord or back-harbor which we call the Northwest Arm, and a +fine English air of seclusion. In our easy, neighborly way she was well +received, and made herself agreeable. She flirted with the officers of +both Army and Navy enough to create talk without raising scandal; and +she was sufficiently good-natured to be civil to us girls, among whom +she singled me out for attentions. I attributed this kindness to our +recent bereavement and financial crash, which had left me poor after +twenty-four years of comfort, and was proportionately grateful. It was +partly gratitude, and partly a natural love of children, and partly a +special affection for the exquisite thing herself, that drew me to +little Gladys Rossiter, to playing with her on the lawns, and rowing her +on the Arm, and--as I had been for three or four years at school in +Paris--dropping into a habit of lisping French to her. As the child +liked me the mother left her more and more to my care, gaining thus the +greater scope for her innocuous flirtations. + +It was toward the end of the summer that Mrs. Rossiter began to sigh, "I +don't know how I shall ever tear Gladys away from you," and, "I do wish +you were coming with us." + +I wished it in a way myself, since I was rather at a loss as to what to +do. I had never expected to have to earn a living; I had expected to get +married. My two elder sisters, Louise and Victoria, had married easily +enough, the one in the Navy, the other in the Army; but with me suitors +seemed to lag. They came and saw--but they never went far enough for +conquest. I couldn't understand it. I was not stupid; I was not ugly; +and I was generally spoken of as having charm. But there was the fact +that I was twenty-four, with scarcely a penny, and drawing nearer and +nearer to the end of my expedients. I was not without some social +experience, having kept house in a generous way for my widowed father, +till his death, some two years before the summer when I met Mrs. +Rossiter, brought with it our financial collapse. If he hadn't left a +lot of old books--_Canadiana_, the pamphlets were called--and rare first +editions of all kinds, which I took over to London and sold at +Sothbey's, I shouldn't have had enough on which to dress. This business +being settled, I stayed as long as I decently could with Louise at +Southsea and Victoria at Gibraltar; but no man asked me to marry him +during the course of either visit. Had there been a sign of any such +possibility the sisters would have put themselves out to keep me; but as +nothing warranted them in doing so they let me go. An uncle and aunt +having offered to give me shelter for a time at Halifax, there was +nothing left for it but to go back and renew the search for my fortunes +in my native town. + +When, therefore, Mrs. Rossiter, in her pretty, helpless way said to me +one day, "Why shouldn't you come with me, dear Miss Adare?" I jumped +inwardly at the opportunity, though I smiled and replied in an offhand +manner, "Oh, that would have to be discussed." + +Mrs. Rossiter admitted the truth of this observation somewhat pensively. +I know now that I took her up with too much promptitude. + +"Yes, of course," she returned, absently, and the subject was dropped. + +It was taken up again, however, and our bargain made. On Mrs. Rossiter's +part it was made astutely, not in the matter of money, but in the way in +which she shifted me from the position of a friend into that of a +retainer. It was done with the most perfect tact, but it was done. I had +no complaint to make. What she wanted was a nursery governess. My own +first preoccupations were food and shelter for which I should not be +dependent on my kin. We came to the incident I am about to relate very +gradually; but when we did come to it I had no difficulty in seeing that +it had been in the back of Mrs. Rossiter's mind from the first. It had +been the cause of that second thought on the day when I had taken her up +too readily. + +She began by telling me about her father. Beyond the fact that some man +who seemed to be specially well informed would occasionally say with +awe, "She's J. Howard Brokenshire's daughter," I knew nothing whatever +about him. But I began to see him now as the central sun round whom all +the Brokenshires revolved. They revolved round him, not so much from +adoration or even from natural affection as from some tremendous rotary +force to which there was no resistance. + +Up to this time I had heard no more of American life than American life +had heard of me. The great country south of our border was scarcely on +my map. The Halifax in which I was born and grew up was not the bustling +Canadian port, dependent on its hinterland, it is to-day; it was an +outpost of England, with its face always turned to the Atlantic and the +east. My own face had been turned the same way. My home had been +literally a jumping-off place, in that when we left it we never expected +to go in any but the one direction. I had known Americans when they came +into our midst as summer visitors, but only in the way one knows the +stars which dawn and fade and leave no trace of their passage on actual +happenings. + +In the course of Mrs. Rossiter's confidences I began to see a vast +cosmogony beyond my own personal sun, with J. Howard Brokenshire as the +pivot of the new universe. With a curious little shock of surprise I +discovered that there could be other solar systems besides the one to +which I was accustomed, and that Canada was not the whole of North +America. It was like looking through a telescope which Mrs. Rossiter +held to my eye, a telescope through which I saw the nebular evidence of +an immense society, wealthy, confused, more intellectual than our own, +but more provincial too, perhaps; more isolated, more timid, more +conservative, less instinct with the great throb of national and +international impulse which all of us feel who live on the imperial red +line and, therefore, less daring, but interesting all the same. I began +to glow with the spirit of adventure. My position as a nursery governess +presented the opportunities not merely of a Livingstone or a Stanley, +but of a Galileo or a Copernicus. + +I learned that Mrs. Rossiter's mother had been a Miss Brew, and that the +Brews were a great family in Boston. She was the mother of all Mr. +Brokenshire's children. By looks and hints and sighs I gathered from +Mrs. Rossiter that her father's second marriage had been a trial to his +family. Not that there had been any social descent. On the contrary, the +present Mrs. Brokenshire had been Editha Billing, of Philadelphia, and +there could be nothing better than that. It was a question of fitness, +of necessity, of age. "There was no need for him to marry again at all," +Mrs. Rossiter complained. "If she'd only been a middle-aged woman," she +said to me later, "we might not have felt. . . . But she's younger than +Mildred and only a year or two older than I am." "Oh yes," was another +remark, "she's pretty; very pretty . . . but I often--wonder." + +She described her brothers and her sister by degrees. One day she told +me about Mildred, another about Jack, so coming toward her point. +Mildred was the eldest of the family, a great invalid. She had been +thrown from her horse years before while hunting in England, and had +injured her spine. Jack had just gone into business with his father, and +had married Pauline Gray, of Baltimore. Though she didn't say it in so +many words I judged that it was not a happy marriage in the highest +sense--that Jack was somewhat light of love, while Pauline "went her own +way" to a degree that made her talked about. It was not till the day +before her departure for New York that Mrs. Rossiter mentioned her +younger brother, Hugh. + +I was helping her to pack--that is, I was helping the maid while Mrs. +Rossiter directed. Just at that minute, however, she was standing up, +shaking out the folds of an evening dress. She seemed to peep at me +round its garnishings as she said, apropos of nothing: + +"There's my brother Hugh. He's the youngest of us all--just twenty-six. +He has no occupation as yet--he's just studying languages and things. My +father wants him to go into diplomacy." As I caught her eye there was a +smile in it, but a special kind of smile. It was the smile to go with +the sensible, kindly, coaxing inflection with which she said, "You'll +leave him alone, won't you?" + +I took the dress out of her hand to carry it to the maid in the next +room. + +"Leave him alone--how?" + +She flushed to a lovely pink. + +"Oh, you know what I mean. I don't have to explain." + +"You mean that in my position in the household it will be for me to--to +keep out of his way?" + +"It's you who put it like that, dear Miss Adare--" + +"But it's the way you want me to put it?" + +"Well, if I admit that it is?" + +"Then I don't think I care for the place." + +"What?" + +I stated my position more simply. + +"If I'm to have nothing to do with your brother, Mrs. Rossiter, I don't +want to go." + +In the audacity of this response she saw something that amused her, for, +snatching the dress from my hand, she ran with it into the next room, +laughing. + +During the following winter in New York and the early summer of the next +year in Newport I saw a good deal of Mr. Hugh Brokenshire, but never +with any violent restriction on the part of Mrs. Rossiter. I say +violent with intention, for she did intervene when she could do so. Only +once did I hear that she knew he was kind to me, and that was from Larry +Strangways. It was an observation he had overheard as it passed from +Mrs. Rossiter to her husband, and which, in the spirit of our silent +_camaraderie_, he thought it right to hand along. + +"I can't be responsible for Hugh!" Mrs. Rossiter had said. "He's old +enough to look after himself. If he wants a row with father he must have +it; and he seems to me in a fair way to get it. If he does it will be +his own fault; it won't be Miss Adare's." + +Fortified by this acquittal, I went on my way as quietly as I could, +though I cannot say I was free from perturbation. + +Perturbation caught me like a whiff of wind as I saw Larry Strangways +deflect from his course across the lawn and come in my direction. I knew +he wouldn't have done that unless he felt himself authorized; and +nothing could give him the authorization but something in the way of a +message or command. To all observers we were strangers. We should have +been strangers even to each other had it not been for that freemasonry +of caste, that secret mutual comprehension, which transcends speech and +opportunities of meeting, and which, on our part, at least, had little +expression beyond smiles and flying glances. + +Of course he was good-looking. It has often seemed to me the privilege +of ineligible men to be tall and slim and straight, with just such a +flash in the eye and just such a beam about the mouth as belonged to +Larry Strangways. Instinct had told me from the first that it would be +wise for me to avoid him, while prudence, as I have hinted, gave him the +same indication to keep at a distance from me. Luckily he didn't live +in the house, but in lodgings in the town. We hardly ever met face to +face, and then only under the eye of Mrs. Rossiter when each of us +marshaled a pupil to lunch or to tea. + +As the collie at his heels and the wire-haired terrier at ours made a +bee-line for each other the children kept them company, which gave us +space for those few minutes of privacy the occasion apparently demanded. +Though he lifted his hat formally, and did his best to preserve the +decorum of our official situations, the prank in his eye flung out that +signal to which I could never do anything but respond. + +"I've a message for you, Miss Adare." + +I managed to stammer out the word "Indeed?" I couldn't be surprised, and +yet I could hardly stand erect from fear. + +He glanced at the children to make sure they were out of earshot. + +"It's from the great man himself--indirectly." + +I was so near to collapse that I could only say, "Indeed?" again, though +I rallied sufficiently to add, "I didn't know he was aware of my +existence." + +"Apparently he wasn't--but he is now. He desires you--I give you the +verb as Spellman, the secretary, passed it on to me--he desires you to +be in the breakfast loggia here at three this afternoon." + +I could barely squeak the words out: + +"Does he mean that he's coming to see me?" + +"That, it seems, isn't necessary for you to know. Your business is to be +there. There's quite a subtle point in the limitation. Being there, +you'll see what will happen next. It isn't good for you to be told too +much at a time." + +My spirit began to revive. + +"I'm not his servant. I'm Mrs. Rossiter's. If he wants anything of me +why doesn't he say so through her?" + +"'Sh, 'sh, Miss Adare! You mustn't dictate to God, or say he should act +in this way or in that." + +"But he's not God." + +"Oh, as to that--well, you'll see." He added, with his light laugh, +"What will you bet that I don't know what it's all about?" + +"Oh, I bet you do." + +"Then," he warned, "you're up against it." + +I was getting on my mettle. + +"Perhaps I am--but I sha'n't be alone." + +"No; but you'll be made to feel alone." + +"Even so--" + +As I was anxious to keep from boasting beforehand, I left the sentence +there. + +"Yes?" he jogged. "Even so--what?" + +"Oh, nothing. I only mean that I'm not afraid of him--that is," I +corrected, "I'm not afraid of him fundamentally." + +He laughed again. "Not afraid of him fundamentally! That's fine!" +Something in his glance seemed to approve of me. "No, I don't believe +you are; but I wonder a little why not." + +I reflected, gazing beyond his shoulder, down the velvety slopes of the +lawn, and across the dancing blue sea to the islets that were mere +specks on the horizon. In the end I decided to speak soberly. "I'm not +afraid of him," I said at last, "because I've got a sure thing." + +"You mean him?" + +I knew the reference was to Hugh Brokenshire. "If I mean him," I +replied, after a minute's thinking, "it's only as the greater includes +the less, or as the universal includes everything." + +He whistled under his breath. + +"Does that mean anything? Or is it just big talk?" + +Half shy and half ashamed of going on with what I had to say, I was +obliged to smile ruefully. + +"It's big talk because it's a big principle. I don't know how to manage +it with anything small." I tried to explain further, knowing that my +dark skin flushed to a kind of dahlia-red while I was doing so. "I don't +know whether I've read it--or whether I heard it--or whether I've just +evolved it--but I seem to have got hold of--of--don't laugh too hard, +please--of the secret of success." + +"Good for you! I hope you're not going to be stingy with it." + +"No; I'll tell you--partly because I want to talk about it to some one, +and just at present there's no one else." + +"Thanks!" + +"The secret of success, as I reason it out, must be something that will +protect a weak person against a strong one--me, for instance, against J. +Howard Brokenshire--and work everything out all right. There," I cried, +"I've said the word." + +"You've said a number. Which is the one?" + +Anxiety not to seem either young or didactic or a prig made my tone +apologetic. + +"There's such a thing as Right, written with a capital. If I persist in +doing Right--still with a capital--then nothing but right can come of +it." + +"Oh, can't it!" + +"I know it sounds like a platitude--" + +"No, it doesn't," he interrupted, rudely, "because a platitude is +something obviously true; and this isn't." + +I felt some relief. + +"Oh, isn't it? Then I'm glad. I thought it must be." + +"You won't go on thinking it. Suppose you do right and somebody else +does wrong?" + +"Then I should be willing to back my way against his. Don't you see? +That's the point. That's the secret I'm telling you about. Right works; +wrong doesn't." + +"That's all very fine--" + +"It's all very fine because it's so. Right is--what's the word William +James put into the dictionary?" + +He suggested pragmatism. + +"That's it. Right is pragmatic, which I suppose is the same thing as +practical. Wrong must be impractical; it must be--" + +"I shouldn't bank too confidently on that in dealing with the great J. +Howard." + +"But I'm going to bank on it. It's where I'm to have him at a +disadvantage. If he does wrong while I do right, why, then I'll get him +on the hip." + +"How do you know he's going to do wrong?" + +"I don't. I merely surmise it. If he does right--" + +"He'll get you on the hip." + +"No, because there can't be a right for him which isn't a right for me. +There can't be two rights, each contrary to the other. That's not in +common sense. If he does right then I shall be safe--whichever way I +have to take it. Don't you see? That's where the success comes in as +well as the secret. It can't be any other way. Please don't think I'm +talking in what H. G. Wells calls the tin-pot style--but one must +express oneself somehow. I'm not afraid, because I feel as if I'd got +something that would hang about me like a magic cloak. Of course for +you--a man--a magic cloak may not be necessary; but I assure you that +for a girl like me, out in the world on her own--" + +He, too, sobered down from his chaffing mood. + +"But in this case what is going to be Right--written with a capital?" + +I had just time to reply, "Oh, that I shall have to see!" when the +children and dogs came scampering up and our conversation was over. + +On returning from my walk with Gladys I informed Mrs. Rossiter of the +order I had received. I could see her distressed look in the mirror +before which she sat doing something to her hair. + +"Oh, dear!" she sighed, "it's just what I was afraid of. Now I suppose +he'll want you to leave." + +"That is, he'll want you to send me away." + +"It's the same thing," she said, fretfully, and sat with hands lying +idly in her lap. + +She stared out of the window. It was a large bow window, with a +window-seat cushioned in flowered chintz. Couch, curtains, and +easy-chairs reproduced this Enchanted Garden effect, forming a +paradisiacal background for her intensely modern and somewhat neurotic +prettiness. I had seen her sit by the half-hour like this, gazing over +the shrubberies, lawns, and waves, with a yearning in her eyes like that +of some twentieth-century Blessed Damozel. + +It was her unhappy hour of the day. Between getting up at nine or ten +and descending languidly to lunch, life was always a great load to her. +It pressed on one too weak to bear its weight and yet too conscientious +to throw it off, though, as a matter of fact, this melancholy was only +the reaction of her nerves from the mild excitements of the night +before. I was generally with her during some portion of this forenoon +time, reading her notes and answering them, speaking for her at the +telephone, or keeping her company and listening to her confidences while +she nibbled without appetite at a bit of toast and sipped her tea. + +To put matters on the common footing I said: + +"Is there anything you'd like me to do, Mrs. Rossiter?" + +She ignored this question, murmuring in a way she had, through +half-closed lips, as if mere speech was more than she was equal to: "And +just when we were getting on so well--and the way Gladys adores you--" + +"And the way I adore Gladys." + +"Oh, well, you don't spoil the child, like that Miss Phips. I suppose +it's your sensible English bringing up." + +"Not English," I interrupted. + +"Canadian then. It's almost the same thing." She went on without +transition of tone: "Mr. Millinger was there again last night. He was on +my left. I do wish they wouldn't keep putting him next to me. It makes +everything look so pointed--especially with Harry Scott glowering at me +from the other end of the table. He hardly spoke to Daisy Burke, whom +he'd taken in. I must say she was a fright. And Mr. Millinger so +imprudent! I'm really terrified that Jim will hear gossip when he comes +down from New York--or notice something." There was the slightest +dropping of the soft fluting voice as she continued: "I've never +pretended to love Jim Rossiter more than any man I've ever seen. That +was one of papa's matches. He's a born match-maker, you know, just as +he's a born everything else. I suppose you didn't think of that. But +since I am Jim's wife--" + +As I was the confidante of what she called her affairs--a role for which +I was qualified by residence in British garrison towns--I interposed +diplomatically, "But so long as Mr. Millinger hasn't said anything, not +any more than Mr. Scott--" + +"Oh, if I were to allow men to say things, where should I be? You can go +far with a man without letting him come to that. It's something I should +think you'd have known--with your sensible bringing up--and the heaps of +men you had there in Halifax--and I suppose at Southsea and Gibraltar, +too." It was with a hint of helpless complaint that she added, "You +remember that I asked you to leave him alone, now don't you?" + +"Oh, I remember--quite. And suppose I did--and he didn't leave me +alone?" + +"Of course there's that, though it won't have any effect on papa. You +are unusual, you know. Only one man in five hundred would notice it; but +there always is that man. It's what I was afraid of about Hugh from the +first. You're different--and it's the sort of thing he'd see." + +"Different from what?" I asked, with natural curiosity. + +Her reply was indirect. + +"Oh, well, we Americans have specialized too much on the girl. You're +not half as good-looking as plenty of other girls in Newport, and when +it comes to dress--" + +"Oh, I'm not in their class, I know." + +"No; it's what you seem not to know. You aren't in their class--but it +doesn't seem to matter. If it does matter, it's rather to your +advantage." + +"I'm afraid I don't see that." + +"No, you wouldn't. You're not sufficiently subtle. You're really not +subtle at all, in the way an American girl would be." She picked up the +thread she had dropped. "The fact is we've specialized so much on the +girl that our girls are too aware of themselves to be wholly human. +They're like things wound up to talk well and dress well and exhibit +themselves to advantage and calculate their effects--and lack character. +We've developed the very highest thing in exquisite girl-mechanics--a +work of art that has everything but a soul." She turned half round to +where I stood respectfully, my hands resting on the back of an +easy-chair. She was lovely and pathetic and judicial all at once. "The +difference about you is that you seem to spring right up out of the soil +where you're standing--just like an English country house. You belong to +your background. Our girls don't. They're too beautiful for their +background, too expensive, too produced. Take any group of girls here in +Newport--they're no more in place in this down-at-the-heel old town than +a flock of parrakeets in a New England wood. It's really inartistic, +though we don't know it. You're more of a woman and less of a lovely +figurine. But that won't appeal to papa. He likes figurines. Most +American men do. Hugh is an exception, and I was afraid he'd see in you +just what I've seen myself. But it won't go down with papa." + +"If it goes down with Hugh--" I began, meekly. + +"Papa is a born match-maker, which I don't suppose you know. He made my +match and he made Jack's. Oh, we're--we're satisfied now--in a way; and +I suppose Hugh will be, too, in the long run." I wanted to speak, but +she tinkled gently on: "Papa has his designs for him, which I may as +well tell you at once. He means him to marry Lady Cissie Boscobel. She's +Lord Goldborough's daughter, and papa and he are very intimate. Papa +knew him when we lived in England before grandpapa died. Papa has done +things for him in the American money-market, and when we're in England +he does things for us. Two or three of our men have married earls' +daughters during the last few years, and it hasn't turned out so badly. +Papa doesn't want not to be in the swim." + +"Does"--I couldn't pronounce Hugh's name again--"does your brother know +of Mr. Brokenshire's intentions?" + +"Yes. I told him so. I told him when I began to see that he was noticing +you." + +"And may I ask what he said?" + +"It would be no use telling you that, because, whatever he said, he'd +have to do as papa told him in the end." + +"But suppose he doesn't?" + +"You can't suppose he doesn't. He will. That's all that can be said +about it." She turned fully round on me, gazing at me with the largest +and sweetest and tenderest eyes. "As for you, dear Miss Adare," she +murmured, sympathetically, "when papa comes to see you this afternoon, +as apparently he means to do, he'll grind you to powder. If there's +anything smaller than powder he'll grind you to that. After he's gone we +sha'n't be able to find you. You'll be dust." + + + + + CHAPTER II + + +At five minutes to three, precisely, I took my seat in the breakfast +loggia. + +The front of the house with the garden looked toward Ochre Point Avenue. +The so-called breakfast loggia was thrown out from the dining-room in +the direction of the sea. Here the family and their guests could gather +on warm evenings, and in fine weather eat in the open air. Paved with +red tiles, it was furnished with a long oak table, ornately carved, and +some heavy old oak chairs that might have come from a monastery. Steamer +chairs and wicker easy-chairs were scattered on the grass outside. On +the left the loggia was screened from the neighboring property by a +hedge of rambler roses that now ran the gamut of shades from crimson to +sea-shell pink, while on the right it commanded a view of the two +terraces supporting the house, with their long straight lines of +flowers. The house itself had been built piecemeal, and was now a low, +rambling succession of pavilions or _corps de logis_, to which a series +of rose-colored awnings gave the only unifying principle. + +Just now it was a house deserted by every one but the servants and +myself. Mrs. Rossiter, having gone out to luncheon, had been careful not +to return, and even the children had been sent over to Mrs. Jack +Brokenshire, on the pretext of playing with her baby, but really to be +out of the way. From Hugh I had had no sign of life since the previous +afternoon. As to whether his father was coming as his enemy, his master, +or his interpreter I could do nothing but conjecture. + +But as far as I could I kept myself from conjecturing; holding my +faculties in suspense. I had enough to do in assuring myself that I was +not afraid--fundamentally. Superficially I was terrified. I should have +been terrified had the great man but passed me in the hall and cast a +look at me. He had passed me in the hall on occasions, but as he had +never cast the look I had escaped. He had struck me then as a master of +that art of seeing without seeing which I had hitherto thought of as +feminine. Even when he stopped and spoke to Gladys he seemed not to know +that I occupied the ground I stood on. I cannot say I enjoyed this +treatment. I was accustomed to being seen. Moreover, I had lived with +people who were courteous to inferiors, however cavalier with equals. +The great J. Howard was neither courteous nor cavalier toward me, for +the reason that where I was he apparently saw nothing but a vacuum. + +Out to the loggia I took my work-basket and some sewing. Having no idea +from which of the several approaches my visitor would come on me, I drew +up one of the heavy arm-chairs and sat facing toward the sea. With the +basket on the table beside me and my sewing in my hands I felt +indefinably more mistress of myself. + +It was a still afternoon and hot, with scarcely a sound but the pounding +of the surf on the ledges at the foot of the lawn. Though the sky was +blue overhead, a dark low bank rose out of the horizon, foretelling a +change of wind with fog. In the air the languorous scent of roses and +honeysuckle mingled with the acrid tang of the ocean. + +I felt extraordinarily desolate. Not since hearing what the lawyer had +told me on the afternoon of my father's funeral had I seemed so entirely +alone. The fact that for nearly twenty-four hours Hugh had got no word +to me threw me back upon myself. "You'll be made to feel alone," Mr. +Strangways had said in the morning; and I was. I didn't blame Hugh. I +had purposely left the matter in such a way that there was nothing he +could say or do till after his father had spoken. He was probably +waiting impatiently; I had, indeed, no doubt about that; but the fact +remained that I, a girl, a stranger, in a certain sense a foreigner, was +to make the best of my situation without help. J. Howard Brokenshire +could grind me to powder--when he had gone away I should be dust. + +"If I do right, nothing but right can come of it." + +The maxim was my only comfort. By sheer force of repeating it I got +strength to thread my needle and go on with my seam, till on the stroke +of three the dread personage appeared. + +I saw him from the minute he mounted the steps that led up from the +Cliff Walk to Mr. Rossiter's lawn. He was accompanied by Mrs. +Brokenshire, while a pair of greyhounds followed them. Having reached +the lawn, they crossed it diagonally toward the loggia. Because of the +heat and the up-hill nature of the way, they advanced slowly, which gave +me leisure to observe. + +Mrs. Brokenshire's presence had almost caused my heart to stop beating. +I could imagine no motive for her coming but one I refused to accept. If +the mission was to be unfriendly, she surely would have stayed away; but +that it could be other than unfriendly was beyond my strength to hope. + +I had never seen her before except in glimpses or at a distance. I +noticed now that she was a little thing, looking the smaller for the +stalwart six-foot-two beside which she walked. She was in white and +carried a white parasol. I saw that her face was one of the most +beautiful in features and finish I had ever looked into. Each trait was +quite amazingly perfect. The oval was perfect; the coloring was perfect; +mouth and nose and forehead might have been made to a measured scale. +The finger of personified Art could have drawn nothing more exquisite +than the arch of the eyebrows, or more delicately fringed than the lids. +It might have been a doll's face, or the face for the cover of an +American magazine, had it not been saved by something I hadn't the time +to analyze, though I was later to know what it was. + +As for him, he was as perfect in his way as she in hers. When I say that +he wore white shoes, white-duck trousers, a navy-blue jacket, and a +yachting-cap I give no idea of the something noble in his personality. +He might have been one of the more ornamental Italian princes of +immemorial lineage. A Jove with a Vandyke beard one could have called +him, and if you add to that the conception of Jove the Thunderer, Jove +with the look that could strike a man dead, perhaps the description +would be as good as any. He was straight and held his head high. He +walked with a firm setting of his feet that impressed you with the fact +that some one of importance was coming. + +It is not my purpose to speak of this man from the point of view of the +ordinary member of the public. Of that I know next to nothing. I was +dimly aware that his wealth and his business interests made him +something of a public character; but apart from having heard him +mentioned as a financier I could hardly have told what his profession +was. So, too, with questions of morals. I have been present when, by +hints rather than actual words, he was introduced as a profligate and a +hypocrite; and I have also known people of good judgment who upheld him +both as man and as citizen. On this subject no opinion of mine would be +worth giving. I have always relegated the matter into that limbo of +disputed facts with which I have nothing to do. I write of him only as I +saw him in daily life, or at least in direct intercourse, and with that +my testimony must end. Other people have been curious with regard to +those aspects of his character on which I can throw no light. To me he +became interesting chiefly because he was one of those men who from a +kind of naive audacity, perhaps an unthinking audacity, don't hesitate +to play the part of the Almighty. + +When they drew near enough to the loggia I stood up, my sewing in my +hand. The two greyhounds, who had outdistanced them, came sniffing to +the threshold and stared at me. I felt myself an object to be stared at, +though I had taken pains with my appearance and knew that I was neat. +Neatness, I may say in passing, is my strong point. Where many other +girls can stand expensive dressing I am at my best when meticulously +tidy. The shape of my head makes the simplest styles of doing the hair +the most distinguished. My figure lends itself to country clothes and +the tailor-made. In evening dress I can wear the cheapest and flimsiest +thing, so long as it is dependent only on its lines. I was satisfied, +therefore, with the way I looked, and when I say I felt myself an object +to be stared at I speak only of my consciousness of isolation. + +I cannot affirm, however, that J. Howard Brokenshire stared at me. He +stared; but only at the general effects in which I was a mere detail. +The loggia being open on all sides, he paused for half a second to take +it and its contents in. I went with the contents. I looked at him; but +nothing in the glance he cast over me recognized me as a human being. I +might have been the table; I might have been the floor; for him I was +hardly in existence. + +I wonder if you have ever stood under the gaze of one who considered you +too inferior for notice. The sensation is quite curious. It produces not +humiliation or resentment so much as an odd apathy. You sink in your own +sight; you go down; you understand that abjection of slaves which kept +them from rising against their masters. Negatively at least you concede +the right that so treats you. You are meek and humble at once; and yet +you can be strong. I think I never felt so strong as when I saw that +cold, deep eye, which was steely and fierce and most inconsistently +sympathetic all in one quick flash, sweep over me and pay me no +attention. _Ecce Femina_ I might have been saying to myself, as a +pendant in expression to the _Ecce Homo_ of the Praetorium. + +He moved aside punctiliously at the lower of the two steps that led up +to the loggia to let his wife precede him. As she came in I think she +gave me a salutation that was little more than a quiver of the lids. +Having closed her parasol, she slipped into one of the arm-chairs not +far from the table. + +Now that he was at close quarters, with his work before him, he +proceeded to the task at once. In the act of laying his hat and stick on +a chair he began with the question, "Your name is--?" + +The voice had a crisp gentleness that seemed to come from the effort to +despatch business with the utmost celerity and spend no unnecessary +strength on words. The fact that he must have heard my name from Hugh +was plainly to play no part in our discussion. I was so unutterably +frightened that when I tried to whisper the word "Adare" hardly a sound +came forth. + +As he raised himself from the placing of his cap and stick he was +obliged to utter a sharp, "What?" + +"Adare." + +"Oh. Adare!" + +It is not a bad name as names go; we like to fancy ourselves connected +with the famous Fighting Adares of the County Limerick; but on J. Howard +Brokenshire's lips it had the undiscriminating commonness of Smith or +Jones. I had never been ashamed of it before. + +"And you're one of my daughter's--" + +"I'm her nursery governess." + +"Sit down." + +As he took the chair at the end of the table I dropped again into that +at the side from which I had risen. It was then that something happened +which left me for a second in doubt as to whether to take it as comic or +catastrophic. His left eye closed; his left nostril quivered; he winked. +To avoid having to face this singular phenomenon a second time I lowered +my eyes and began mechanically to sew. + +"Put that down!" + +I placed the work on the table and once more looked at him. The striking +eyes were again as striking as ever. In their sympathetic hardness there +was nothing either ribald or jocose. + +I suppose my scrutiny annoyed him, though I was unconscious of more than +a mute asking for orders. He pointed to a distant chair, a chair in a +corner, just within the loggia as you come from the direction of the +dining-room. + +"Sit there." + +I know now that his wink distressed him. It was something which at that +time had come upon him recently, and that he could neither control nor +understand. A less imposing man, a man to whom personal impressiveness +was less of an asset in daily life and work, would probably have been +less disturbed by it; but to J. Howard Brokenshire it was a trial in +more ways than one. Curiously, too, when the left eye winked the right +grew glassy and quite terrible. + +Not knowing that he was sensitive in this respect, I took my retreat to +the corner as a kind of symbolic banishment. + +"Hadn't I better stand up?" I asked, proudly, when I had reached my +chair. + +"Be good enough to sit down." + +I seemed to fall backward. The tone had the effect of a shot. If I had +ever felt small and foolish in my life it was then. I flushed to my +darkest crimson. Angry and humiliated, I was obliged to rush to my maxim +in order not to flash back in some indignant retort. + +And then another thing happened of which I was unable at the minute to +get the significance. Mrs. Brokenshire sprang up with the words: + +"You're quite right, Howard. It's ever so much cooler over here by the +edge. I never felt anything so stuffy as the middle of this place. It +doesn't seem possible for air to get into it." + +While speaking she moved with incomparable daintiness to a chair +corresponding to mine and diagonally opposite. With the length and width +of the loggia between us we exchanged glances. In hers she seemed to +say, "If you are banished I shall be banished too"; in mine I tried to +express gratitude. And yet I was aware that I might have misunderstood +both movement and look entirely. + +My next surprise was in the words Mr. Brokenshire addressed to me. He +spoke in the soft, slightly nasal staccato which I am told had on his +business associates the effect of a whip-lash. + +"We've come over to tell you, Miss--Miss Adare, how much we appreciate +your attitude toward our boy, Hugh. I understand from him that he's +offered to marry you, and that very properly in your situation you've +declined. The boy is foolish, as you evidently see. He meant nothing; he +could do nothing. You're probably not without experience of a similar +kind among the sons of your other employers. At the same time, as you +doubtless expect, we sha'n't let you suffer by your prudence--" + +It was a bad beginning. Had he made any sort of appeal to me, however +unkindly worded, I should probably have yielded. But the tradition of +the Fighting Adares was not in me for nothing, and after a smothering +sensation which rendered me speechless I managed to stammer out: + +"Won't you allow me to say that--" + +The way in which his large, white, handsome hand went up was meant to +impose silence upon me while he himself went on: + +"In order that you may not be annoyed by my son's folly in the future +you will leave my daughter's employ, you'll leave Newport--you'll be +well advised, indeed, in going back to your own country, which I +understand to be the British provinces. You will lose nothing, however, +by this conduct, as I've given you to understand. Three--four--five +thousand dollars--I think five ought to be sufficient--generous, in +fact--" + +"But I've not refused him," I was able at last to interpose. "I--I mean +to accept him." + +There was an instant of stillness during which one could hear the +pounding of the sea. + +"Does that mean that you want me to raise your price?" + +"No, Mr. Brokenshire. I have no price. If it means anything at all that +has to do with you, it's to tell you that I'm mistress of my acts and +that I consider your son--he's twenty-six--to be master of his." + +There was a continuation of the stillness. His voice when he spoke was +the gentlest sound I had ever heard in the way of human utterance. If it +were not for the situation it could have been considered kind: + +"Anything at all that has to do with me? You seem to attach no +importance to the fact that Hugh is my son." + +I do not know how words came to me. They seemed to flow from my lips +independently of thought. + +"I attach importance only to the fact that he's a man. Men who are never +anything but their father's sons aren't men." + +"And yet a father has some rights." + +"Yes, sir; some. He has the right to follow where his grown-up children +lead. He hasn't the right to lead and require his grown-up children to +follow." + +He shifted his ground. "I'm obliged to you for your opinion, but at +present it's not to the point--" + +I broke in breathlessly: "Pardon me, sir; it's exactly to the point. I'm +a woman; Hugh's a man. We're--we're in love with each other; it's all we +have to be concerned with." + +"Not quite; you've got to be concerned--with me." + +"Which is what I deny." + +"Oh, denial won't do you any good. I didn't come to hear your denials, +or your affirmations, either. I've come to tell you what to do." + +"But if I know that already?" + +"That's quite possible--if you mean to play your game as doubtless +you've played it before. I only want to warn you--" + +I looked toward Mrs. Brokenshire for help, but her eyes were fixed on +the floor, on which she was drawing what seemed like a design with the +tip of her parasol. The greyhounds were stretched at her feet. I could +do nothing but speak for myself, which I did with a calmness that +surprised me. + +"Mr. Brokenshire," I interrupted, "you are a man and I'm a woman. What's +more, you're a strong man, while I'm a woman with no protection at all. +I ask you--do you think you're playing a man's part in insulting me?" + +His tone grew kind almost to affection. "My dear young lady, you +misunderstand me. Insult couldn't be further from my thoughts. I'm +speaking entirely for your own sake. You're young; you're very pretty; I +won't say you've no knowledge of the world because I see you have--" + +"I've a good deal of knowledge of the world." + +"Only not such knowledge as would warrant you in pitting yourself +against me." + +"But I don't. If you'd leave me alone--" + +"Let us keep to what we're talking of. I'm sorry for you; I really am. +You're at the beginning of what might euphemistically--do you know the +meaning of the word?--be called a career. I should like to save you from +it; that's all. It's why I'm speaking to you very plainly and using +language that can't be misunderstood. There's nothing original in your +proceeding, believe me. Nearly every family of the standing of mine has +had to reckon with something of the sort. Where there are young men, and +young women of--what do you want me to say?--young women who mean to do +the best they can for themselves--let us put it in that way--" + +"I'm a gentleman's daughter," I broke in, weakly. + +He smiled. "Oh yes; you're all gentlemen's daughters. Neither is there +anything original in that." + +"Mrs. Rossiter will tell you that my father was a judge in Canada--" + +"The detail doesn't interest me." + +"No, but it interests me. It gives me a sense of being equal to--" + +"If you please! We'll not go into that." + +"But I must speak. If I'm to marry Hugh you must let me tell you who I +am." + +"It's not necessary. You're not to marry Hugh. Let that be absolutely +understood. Once you've accepted the fact--" + +"I could only accept it from Hugh himself." + +"That's foolish. Hugh will do as I tell him." + +"But why should he in this case?" + +"That again is something we needn't discuss. All that matters, my dear +young lady, is your own interest. I'm working for that, don't you see, +against yourself--" + +I burst out, "But why shouldn't I marry him?" + +He leaned on the table, tapping gently with his hand. "Because we don't +want you to. Isn't that enough?" + +I ignored this. "If it's because you don't know anything about me I +could tell you." + +"Oh, but we do know something about you. We know, for example, since +you compel me to say it, that you're a little person of no importance +whatever." + +"My family is one of the best in Canada." + +"And admitting that that's so, who would care what constituted a good +family in Canada? To us here it means nothing; in England it would mean +still less. I've had opportunities of judging how Canadians are regarded +in England, and I assure you it's nothing to make you proud." + +Of the several things he had said to sting me I was most sensitive to +this. I, too, had had opportunities of judging, and knew that if +anything could make one ashamed of being a British colonial of any kind +it would be British opinion of colonials. + +"My father used to say--" + +He put up his large, white hand. "Another time. Let us keep to the +subject before us." + +I omitted the mention of my father to insist on a theory as to which I +had often heard him express himself: "If it's part of the subject before +us that I'm a Canadian and that Canadians are ground between the upper +and lower millstones of both English and American contempt--" + +"Isn't that another digression?" + +"Not really," I hurried on, determined to speak, "because if I'm a +sufferer by it, you are, too, in your degree. It's part of the +Anglo-Saxon tradition for those who stay behind to despise those who go +out as pioneers. The race has always done it. It isn't only the British +who've despised their colonists. The people of the Eastern States +despised those who went out and peopled the Middle West; those in the +Middle West despised those who went farther West." I was still quoting +my father. "It's something that defies reason and eludes argument. It's +a base strain in the blood. It's like that hierarchy among servants by +which the lady's maid disdains the cook, and the cook disdains the +kitchen-maid, and the proudest are those who've nothing to be proud of. +For you to look down on me because I'm a Canadian, when the commonest of +Englishmen, with precisely the same justification, looks down on you--" + +"Dear young lady," he broke in, soothingly, "you're talking wildly. +You're speaking of things you know nothing about. Let us get back to +what we began with. My son has offered to marry you--" + +"He didn't offer to marry me. He asked me--he begged me--to marry him." + +"The way of putting it is of no importance." + +"Ah, but it is." + +"I mean that, however he expressed it--however you express it--the +result must be the same." + +I nerved myself to look at him steadily. "I mean to accept him. When he +asked me yesterday I said I wouldn't give him either a Yes or a No till +I knew what you and his family thought of it. But now that I do know--" + +"You're determined to try the impossible." + +"It won't be the impossible till he tells me so." + +He seemed for a second or two to study me. "Suppose I accepted you as +what you say you are--as a young woman of good antecedents and honorable +character. Would you still persist in the effort to force yourself on a +family that didn't want you?" + +I confess that in the language Mr. Strangways and I had used in the +morning, he had me here "on the hip." To force myself on a family that +didn't want me would normally have been the last of my desires. But I +was fighting now for something that went beyond my desires--something +larger--something national, as I conceived of nationality--something +human--though I couldn't have said exactly what it was. I answered only +after long deliberation. + +"I couldn't stop to consider a family. My object would be to marry the +man who loved me--and whom I loved." + +"So that you'd face the humiliation--" + +"It wouldn't be humiliation, because it would have nothing to do with +me. It would pass into another sphere." + +"It wouldn't be another sphere to him." + +"I should have to let him take care of that. It's all I can manage to +look out for myself--" + +There seemed to be some admiration in his tone. + +"Which you seem marvelously well fitted to do." + +"Thank you." + +"In fact, it's one of the ways in which you betray yourself. An innocent +girl--" + +I strained forward in my chair. "Wouldn't it be fair for you to tell me +what you mean by the word innocent?" + +"I mean a girl who has no special ax to grind--" + +I could hear my foot tapping on the floor, but I was too indignant to +restrain myself. "Even that figure of speech leaves too much to the +imagination." + +He studied me again. "You're very sharp." + +"Don't I need to be," I demanded, "with an enemy of your acumen?" + +"But I'm not your enemy. It's what you don't seem to see. I'm your +friend. I'm trying to keep you out of a situation that would kill you if +you got into it." + +I think I laughed. "Isn't death preferable to dishonor?" I saw my +mistake in the quickness with which Mrs. Brokenshire looked up. "There +are more kinds of dishonor than one," I explained, loftily, "and to me +the blackest would be in allowing you to dictate to me." + +"My dear young woman, I dictate to men--" + +"Oh, to men!" + +"I see! You presume on your womanhood. It's a common American expedient, +and a cheap one. But I don't stop for that." + +"You may not stop for womanhood, Mr. Brokenshire; but neither does +womanhood stop for you." + +He rose with an air of weary patience. "I'm afraid we sha'n't gain +anything by talking further--" + +"I'm afraid not." I, too, rose, advancing to the table. We confronted +each other across it, while one of the dogs came nosing to his master's +hand. I had barely the strength to gasp on: "We've had our talk and you +see where I am. I ask nothing but the exercise of human liberty--and the +measure of respect I conceive to be due to every one. Surely you, an +American, a representative of what America is supposed to stand for, +can't think of it as too much." + +"If America is supposed to stand for your marrying my son--" + +"America stands, so I've been told by Americans, for the reasonable +freedom of the individual. If Hugh wants to marry me--" + +"Hugh will marry the woman I approve of." + +"Then that apparently is what we must put to the test." + +I was now so near to tears that I suppose he saw an opening to his own +advantage. Coming round the table, he stood looking down at me with that +expression which I can only describe as sympathetic. With all the +dominating aggressiveness which either forced you to give in to him or +urged you to fight him till you dropped, there was that about him which +left you with a lingering suspicion that he might be right. It was the +man who might be right who was presently sitting easily on the edge of +the table, so that his face was on a level with my own, and saying in a +kindly voice: + +"Now look here! Let's be reasonable. I don't want to be unfair to you, +or to say anything a man isn't justified in saying to a woman. I'm +willing to throw the whole blame on Hugh--" + +"I'm not," I declared, hotly. + +"That's generous; but I'm speaking of myself. I'm willing to throw the +whole blame on Hugh, because he's my son. I'll absolve you, if you like, +because you're a stranger and a girl, and consider you a victim--" + +"I'm not a victim," I insisted. "I'm only a human being, asking for a +human being's rights." + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, rights! Who knows what rights are?" + +"I do. That is," I corrected, "I know my own." + +"Oh, of course! One always knows one's own. One's own rights are +everything one can get. Now you can't get Hugh; but you can get five +thousand dollars. That's a lot of money. There are men all over the +United States who'd cut off a hand for it. You won't have to cut off a +hand. You only need to be a good, sensible little girl and--get out." +Perhaps he thought I was yielding, for he tapped his side pocket as he +went on speaking. "It won't take a minute. I've got a check-book here--a +stroke of the pen--" + +My work was lying on the table a few inches away. Leaning forward +deliberately I put it into the basket, which I tucked under my arm. I +looked at Mrs. Brokenshire, who was leaning forward and looking at me. I +inclined my head with a slight salutation, to which she did not respond, +and turned away. Of him I took no notice. + +"So it's war." + +I was half-way to the dining-room when I heard him say that. As I paused +to look back he was still sitting sidewise on the edge of the table, +swinging a leg and staring after me. + +"No, sir," I said, quietly. "It takes two to fight, and I should never +think of being one." + +"You know, of course, that I shall have no mercy on you." + +"No, sir; I don't." + +"Then you can know it now. I'm sorry for you; but I can't afford to +spare you. Bigger things than you have come in my way--and have been +blasted." + +Mrs. Brokenshire made a quick little movement behind his back. It told +me nothing I understood then, though I was able to interpret it later. I +could only say, in a voice that shook with the shaking of my whole body: + +"You couldn't blast me, sir, because--because--" + +"Yes? Because--what? I should like to know." + +There was a robin hopping on the lawn outside and I pointed to it. "You +couldn't blast a little bird like that with a bombshell." + +"Oh, birds have been shot." + +"Yes, sir; with a fowling-piece; but not with a howitzer. The one is too +big; the other is too small." + +I was about to drop him a little courtesy when I saw him wink. It was a +grotesque, amusing wink that quivered and twisted till it finally +closed the left eye. If he had been a less handsome man the effect would +have been less absurd. + +I made my courtesy the deeper, bending my head and lowering my eyes so +as to spare him the knowledge that I saw. + + + + + CHAPTER III + + +"He attacked my country. I think I could forgive him everything but +that." + +It was an hour after Mr. and Mrs. Brokenshire had left me. I was half +crying by this time--that is, half crying in the way one cries from +rage, and yet laughing nervously, in flashes, at the same time. From the +weakness of sheer excitement I had dropped to one of the steps leading +down to the Cliff Walk, while Larry Strangways leaned on the stone post. +I had met him there as I was going out and he was coming toward the +house. We couldn't but stop to exchange a word, especially with his +knowledge of the situation. He took what I had to say with the light, +gleaming, non-committal smile which he brought to bear on everything. I +was glad of that because it kept him detached. I didn't want him any +nearer to me than he was. + +"Attacked your country? Do you mean England?" + +"No; Canada. England is my grandmother; but Canada's my mother. He said +you all despised her." + +"Oh no, we don't. He was trying to put something over on you." + +"Your 'No, we don't' lacks conviction; but I don't mind you. I shouldn't +mind him if I hadn't seen so much of it." + +"So much of what?" + +"Being looked down upon geographically. Of all the ways of being proud," +I declared, indignantly, "that which depends on your merely accidental +position with regard to land and water strikes me as the most +poor-spirited. I can't imagine any one dragging himself down to it who +had another rag of a reason for self-respect. As a matter of fact, I +don't believe any one ever does. The people I've heard express +themselves on the subject--well, I'll give you an illustration: There +was a woman at Gibraltar--a major's wife, a big, red-faced woman. Her +name was Arbuthnot--her father was a dean or something--a big, red-faced +woman, with one of those screechy, twangy English voices that cut you +like a saw--you know there are some--a good many--and they don't know +it. Well, she was saying something sneering about Canadians. I was +sitting opposite--it was at a dinner-party--and so I leaned across the +table and asked her why she didn't like them. She said colonials were +such dreadful form. I held her with my eye"--I showed him how--"and made +myself small and demure as I said, 'But, dear lady, how clever of you! +Who would ever have supposed that you'd know that?' My sister Vic +pitched into me about it after we got home. She said the Arbuthnot +person didn't understand what I meant--nor any one else at the table, +they're so awfully thick-skinned--and that it's better to let them +alone. But that's the kind of person who--" + +He tried to comfort me. "They'll come round in time. One of these days +England will see what she owes to her colonists and do them justice." + +"Never!" I declared, vehemently. "It will be always the same--till we +knock the Empire to pieces. Then they'll respect us. Look at the Boer +War. Didn't our men sacrifice everything to go out that long +distance--and win battles--and lay down their lives--only to have the +English say afterward--especially the army people--that they were more +trouble than they were worth? It will be always the same. When we've +given our last penny and shed our last drop of blood they'll still tell +us we've been nothing but a nuisance. You may live to see it and +remember that I said so. If when Shakespeare wrote that it's sharper +than a serpent's tooth to have a thankless child he'd gone on to add +that it's the very dickens to have a picturesque, self-satisfied old +grandmother who thinks her children's children should give her +everything and take kicks instead of ha'pence for their pay, he'd have +been up to date. Mind you, we don't object to giving our last penny and +shedding our last drop of blood; we only hate being abused and sneered +at for doing it." + +I warmed to my subject as I dabbed fiercely at my eyes. + +"I'll tell you what the typical John Bull is like. He's like those +men--big, flabby men they generally are--who'll be brutes to you so long +as you're civil to them, but will climb down the minute you begin to hit +back. Look at the way they treat you Americans! They can't do enough for +you--because you snap your fingers in their faces and show them you +don't care a hang about them. They come over here, and give you +lectures, and marry your girls, and pocket your money, and adopt your +bad form as delightful originality--and respect you. Now that earls' +daughters are beginning to cast an eye on your millionaires--Mrs. +Rossiter told me that--they won't leave you a rag to your back. But with +us who've been faithful and loyal they're all the other way. I can +hardly tell you the small pin-pricking indignities to which my sisters +and I have been subjected for being Canadians. And they'll never change. +It will never be otherwise, no matter what we do, no matter what we +become, no matter if we give our bodies to be burned, as the Bible says. +It will never be otherwise--not till we imitate you and strike them in +the face. _Then_ you'll see how they'll come round."[1] + +He still smiled, with an aloofness in which there was a beam of +sweetness. "I had no idea that you were such a little rebel." + +"I'm not a rebel. I'm loyal to the King. That is, I'm loyal to the great +Anglo-Saxon ideal of which the King is the symbol--and I suppose he's as +good a symbol as any other, especially as he's already there. The +English are only partly Anglo-Saxon. 'Saxon and Norman and Dane are +they'--didn't Tennyson say that? Well, there's a lot that's Norman, and +a lot that's Dane, and a lot that's Scotch and Irish and rag-tag in +them. But they're saved by the pure Anglo-Saxon ideal in so far as they +hold to it--just as you'll be, with all your mixed bloods--and just as +we shall be ourselves. It's like salt in the meat, it's like grace in +the Christian religion--it's the thing that saves, and I'm loyal to +that. My father used to say that it's the fact that English and +Canadians and Australians are all devoted to the same principle that +holds us together as an Empire, and not the subservience of distant +lands to a Parliament sitting at Westminster. And so it is. We don't +always like each other; but that doesn't matter. What does matter is +that we should betray the fact that we don't like each other to +outsiders--and so give them a handle against us." + +"You mean that J. Howard should be in a position to side with the +English in looking down on you as a Canadian?" + +"Yes, and that the English should give him that position. He's an +American and an enemy--every American is an enemy to England _au fond_. +Oh yes, he is! You needn't deny it! It's something fundamental, deeper +down than anything you understand. Even those of you who like England +are hostile to her at heart and would be glad to see her in trouble. So, +I say, he's an American and an enemy, and yet they hand me, their child +and their friend, over to him to be trampled on. He's had opportunities +of judging how Canadians are regarded in England, he says--and he +assures me it's nothing to be proud of. That's it. I've had +opportunities too--and I have to admit that he's right. Don't you see? +That's what enrages me. As far as their liking us and our not liking +them is concerned, why, it's all in the family. So long as it's kept in +the family it's like the pick that Louise and Vic have always had on me. +I'm the youngest and the plainest--" + +"Oh, you're the plainest, are you? What on earth are they like?" + +"They're quite good-looking, and they're awfully chic. But that's in +parentheses. What I mean is that they're always hectoring me because I'm +not attractive--" + +"Really?" + +"I'm not fishing for compliments. I'm too busy and too angry for that. I +want to go on talking about what we're talking about." + +"But I want to know why they said you were unattractive." + +"Well, perhaps they didn't say it. What they have said is this, and it's +what Mrs. Rossiter says--she said it to-day--that I'm only attractive to +one man in five hundred--" + +"But very attractive to him?" + +"No; she didn't say that. She merely admitted that her brother Hugh was +that man--" + +He interrupted with something I wished at the time he hadn't said, and +which I tried to ignore: + +"He's the man in that five hundred--and I know another in another five +hundred, which makes two in a thousand. You'd soon get up to a high +percentage, when you think of all the men there are in the world." + +As he had never hinted at anything of the kind before, it gave me--how +shall I put it?--I can only think of the word fright--it gave me a +little fright. It made me uneasy. It was nothing, really. It was spoken +with that gleaming smile of his which seemed to put distance between him +and me--between him and everything else that was serious--and yet +subconsciously I felt as one feels on hearing the first few notes, in an +opera or a symphony, of that arresting phrase which is to work up into a +great motive. I tried to get back to my original theme, rising to move +on as I did so. + +"Good gracious!" I cried. "Isn't the world big enough for us all? Why +should we go about saying unkind and untrue things of one other, when +each of us is an essential part of a composite whole? Isn't it the foot +saying to the hand I have no need of thee, and the eye saying the same +thing to the nose? We've got something you haven't got, and you've got +something we haven't got. Why shouldn't we be appreciative toward each +other, and make our exchange with mutual respect as we do with trade +commodities?" + +It was probably to urge me on to talk that he said, with a challenging +smile: "What have you Canadians got that we haven't? Why, we could buy +and sell you." + +"Oh no, you couldn't; because our special contribution toward the +civilization of the American continent isn't a thing for sale. It can be +given; it can be inherited; it can be caught; but it can't be +purchased." + +"Indeed? What is this elusive endowment?" + +I answered frankly enough: "I don't know. It's there--and I can't tell +you what it is. Ever since I've been living among you I've felt how much +we resemble each other--what a difference. I think--mind you, I only +think--that what it consists in is a sense of the _comme il faut_. We're +simpler than you; and less intellectual; and poorer, of course; and +less, much less, self-analytical; and yet we've got a knowledge of +what's what that you couldn't command with money. None of the +Brokenshires have it at all, and, as far as I can see, none of their +friends. They command it with money, and the difference is like having a +copy of a work of art instead of the original. It gives them the air of +being--I'm using Mrs. Rossiter's word--of being produced. Now we +Canadians are not produced. We just come--but we come the right +way--without any hooting or tooting or beating of tin pans or +self-advertisement. We just are--and we say nothing about it. Let me +make an example of what Mrs. Rossiter was discussing this morning. There +are lots of pretty girls in my country--as many to the hundred as you +have here--but we don't make a fuss about them or talk as if we'd +ordered a special brand from the Creator. We grow them as you grow +flowers in a garden, at the mercy of the air and sunshine. You grow +yours like plants in a hothouse, to be exhibited in horticultural shows. +Please don't think I'm bragging--" + +He laughed aloud. "Oh no!" + +"Well, I'm not," I insisted. "You asked me a question and I'm trying to +answer it--and incidentally to justify my own existence, which J. Howard +has called into question. You've got lots to offer us, and many of us +come and take it thankfully. What we can offer to you is a simpler and +healthier and less self-conscious standard of life, with a great deal +less talk about it--with no talk about it at all, if you could get +yourselves down to that--and a willingness to be instead of an +everlasting striving to become. You won't recognize it or take it, of +course. No one ever does. Nations seem to me insane, and ruled by insane +governments. Don't the English need the Germans, and the Germans the +French, and the French the Austrians, and the Austrians the Russians, +and so on? Why on earth should the foot be jealous of the nose? But +there! You're simply making me say things--and laughing at me all the +while--so I'm off to take my walk. We'll get even with J. Howard and all +the first-class powers some day, and till then--_au revoir_." + +I had waved my hand to him and gone some paces into the fog that had +begun to blow in when he called to me. + +"Wait a minute. I've something to tell you." + +I turned, without going back. + +"I'm--I'm leaving." + +I was so amazed that I retraced a step or two toward him. "What?" + +His smile underwent a change. It grew frozen and steely instead of being +bright with a continuous play suggesting summer lightning, which had +been its usual quality. + +"My time is up at the end of the month--and I've asked Mr. Rossiter not +to expect me to go on." + +I was looking for something of the sort sooner or later, but now that it +had come I saw how lonely I should be. + +"Oh! Where are you going? Have you got anything in particular?" + +"I'm going as secretary to Stacy Grainger." + +"I've some connection with that name," I said, absently, "though I can't +remember what it is." + +"You've probably heard of him. He's a good deal in the public eye." + +"Have you known him long?" I asked, for the sake of speaking, though I +was only thinking of myself. + +"Never knew him at all." He came nearer to me. "I've a confession to +make, though it won't be of interest to you. All the while I've been +here, playing with little Broke Rossiter, I've been--don't laugh--I've +been contributing to the press--_moi qui vous parle_!" + +"What about?" + +"Oh, politics and finance and foreign policy and public things in +general. Always had a taste that way. Now it seems that something I +wrote for the _Providence Express_--people read it a good deal--has +attracted the attention of the great Stacy. Yes, he's great, too--J. +Howard's big rival for--" + +I began to recall something I had heard. "Wasn't there a story about him +and Mr. Brokenshire and Mrs. Brokenshire?" + +"That's the man. Well, he's noticed my stuff, and written to the +editor--and to me, and I'm to go to him." + +I was still thinking of myself and the loss of his _camaraderie_. "I +hope he's going to pay you well." + +"Oh, for me it will be wealth." + +"It will probably be more than that. It will be the first long step up." + +He nodded confidently. "I hope so." + +I had again begun to move away when he stopped me the second time. + +"Miss Adare, what's your first name? Mine's Lawrence, as you know." + +If I laughed a little it was to conceal my discomfort at this abrupt +approach to the intimate. + +"I'm rather sorry for my name," I said, apologetically. "You see my +father was one of those poetically loyal Canadians who rather overdo the +thing. My eldest sister should have been Victoria, because Victoria was +the queen. But the Duchess of Argyll was in Canada at that time--and +very nice to father and mother--and so the first of us had to be Louise. +He couldn't begin on the queens till there was a second one. That's poor +Vic; while I'm--I know you'll shout--I'm Alexandra. If there'd been a +fourth she'd have been a Mary; but poor mother died and the series +stopped." + +He shook hands rather gravely. "Then I shall think of you as Alexandra." + +"If you are going to think of me at all," I managed to say, with a +little _moue_, "put me down as Alix. That's what I've always been +called." + +[Footnote 1: This was said before the Great War. It is now supposed that +when peace is made there will be a change in English opinion. With my +knowledge of my country--the British Empire--I permit myself to doubt +it. There is a proverb which begins, "When the devil was sick." I shall, +however, be glad if I am proved wrong.--Alexandra Adare.] + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I was glad of the fog. It was cool and refreshing; it was also +concealing. I could tramp along under its protection with little or no +fear of being seen. Wearing tweeds, thick boots, and a felt hat, I was +prepared for wet, and as a Canadian girl I was used to open air in all +weathers. The few stragglers generally to be seen on the Cliff Walk +having rushed to their houses for shelter, I had the rocks and the +breakers, the honeysuckle and the patches of dog-roses, to myself. In +the back of my mind I was fortified, too, by the knowledge that dampness +curls my hair into pretty little tendrils, so that if I did meet any one +I should be looking at my best. + +The path is like no other in the world. I have often wondered why the +American writer-up of picturesque bits didn't make more of it. Trouville +has its _Plage_, and Brighton its King's Road, and Nice its Promenade +des Anglais, but in no other kingdom of leisure that I know anything +about will you find the combination of qualities, wild and subdued, that +mark this ocean-front of the island of Aquidneck. Neither will you +easily come elsewhere so near to a sense of the primitive human +struggle, of the crude social clash, of the war of the rights of +man--Fisherman's Rights, as this coast historically knows them--against +encroachment, privilege, and seclusion. As you crunch the gravel, and +press the well-rolled turf, and sniff the scent of the white and red +clover and Queen Anne's lace that fringe the precipice leaning over the +sea, you feel in the air those elements of conflict that make drama. + +In clinging to the edge of the cliff, in twisting round every curve of +the shore line, in running up hill and down dale, under crags and over +them, the path is, of course, not the only one of its kind. You will +find the same thing anywhere on the south coast of England or the north +coast of France. But in the sum of human interest it sucks into the +three miles of its course I can think of nothing else that resembles it. +As guaranteeing the rights of the fisherman it is, so I believe, +inalienable public property. The fisherman can walk on it, sit on it, +fish from it, right into eternity. So much he has secured from the past +history of colony and state; but he has done it at the cost of making +himself offensive to the gentlemen whose lawns he hems as a seamstress +hems a skirt. + +It is a hem like a serpent, with a serpent's sinuosity and grace, but +also with a serpent's hatefulness to those who can do nothing but accept +it as a fact. Since, as a fact, it cannot be abolished it has to be put +up with; and since it has to be put up with the means must needs be +found to deal with it effectively. Effectively it has been dealt with. +Money, skill, and imagination have been spent on it, to adorn it, or +disguise it, or sink it out of sight. The architect, the landscape +gardener, and the engineer have all been called into counsel. On +Fisherman's Rights the smile and the frown are exercised by turns, each +with its phase of ingenuity. Along one stretch of a hundred yards bland +recognition borders the way with roses or spans the miniature chasms +with decorative bridges; along the next shuddering refinement grows a +hedge or digs a trench behind which the obtrusive wayfarer may pass +unseen. But shuddering refinement and bland recognition alike withdraw +into themselves as far as broad lawns and lofty terraces permit them to +retire, leaving to the owner of Fisherman's Rights the enjoyment of +ocher and umber rocks and sea and sky and grain-fields yellowing on far +headlands. + +It gave me the nearest thing to glee I ever felt in Newport. It was +bracing and open and free. It suggested comparisons with scrambles along +Nova-Scotian shores or tramps on the moors in Scotland. I often hated +the fine weather; it was oppressive; it was strangling. But a day like +this, with its whiffs of wild wind and its handfuls of salt slashing +against eyes and mouth and nostrils, was not only exhilarating, it was +glorious. I was glad, too, that the prim villas and pretentious +chateaux, most of them out of proportion to any scale of housekeeping of +which America is capable, could only be descried like castles in a dream +through the swirling, diaphanous drift. I could be alone to rage and +fume--or fly onward with a speed that was in itself a relief. + +I could be alone till, on climbing the slope of a shorn and wind-swept +bluff, I saw a square-shouldered figure looming on the crest. It was no +more than a deepening of the texture of the fog, but I knew its lines. +Skimming up the ascent with a little cry, I was in Hugh's arms, my head +on his burly breast. + +I think it was his burliness that made the most definite appeal to me. +He was so sturdy and strong, and I was so small and desolate. From the +beginning, when he first used to come near me, I felt his presence, as +the Bible says, like the shadow of a rock in a thirsty land. That was in +my early homesick time, before I had seized the new way of living and +the new national point of view. The fact, too, that, as I expressed it +to myself, I was in the second cabin when I had always been accustomed +to the first, inspired a discomfort for which unwittingly I sought +consolation. Nobody thought of me as other than Mrs. Rossiter's +retainer, but this one kindly man. + +I noticed his kindliness almost before I noticed him, just as, I think, +he noticed my loneliness almost before he noticed me. He opened doors +for me when I went in or out; he served me with things if he happened to +be there at tea; he dropped into a chair beside me when I was the only +member of a group whom no one spoke to. If Gladys was of the company I +was of it too, with a nominal footing but a virtual exclusion. The men +in the Rossiter circle were of the four hundred and ninety-nine to whom +I wasn't attractive; the women were all civil--from a distance. +Occasionally some nice old lady would ask me where I came from and if I +liked my work, or talk to me of new educational methods in a way which, +with my bringing up, was to me as so much Greek; but I never got any +other sign of friendliness. Only this short, stockily built young +fellow, with the small, blue eyes, ever recognized me as a human being +with the average yearning for human intercourse. + +During the winter in New York he never went further than that. I +remembered Mrs. Rossiter's recommendation and "let him alone." I knew +how to do it. He was not the first man I had ever had to deal with, even +if no one had asked me to marry him. I accepted his small, kindly acts +with that shade of discretion which defined the distance between us. As +far as I could observe, he himself had no disposition to cross the lines +I set--not till we moved to Newport. + +There was a fortnight between our going there and his--a fortnight which +seemed to work a change in him. The Hugh Brokenshire I met on one of my +first rambles along the cliffs was not the Hugh Brokenshire I had last +seen in Fifth Avenue. Perhaps I was not the same myself. In the new +surroundings I had missed him--a little. I will not say that his absence +had meant an aching void to me; but where I had had a friend, now I had +none--since I was unable to count Larry Strangways. Had it not been for +this solitude I should have been less receptive to his comings when he +suddenly began to pursue me. + +Pursuit is the only word I can use. I found him everywhere, quiet, +deliberate, persistent. If he had been ten or even five years older I +could have taken his advances without uneasiness. But he was only +twenty-six and a dependent. He had no work; apart from his allowance +from his father he had no means. And yet when, on the day before my +chronicle begins, he stole upon me as I sat in a sheltered nook below +the cliffs to which I was fond of retreating when I had time--when he +stole upon me there, and kissed me and kissed me and kissed me, I +couldn't help confessing that I loved him. + +I must leave to some woman who has had to fend for herself the task of +telling what it means when a man comes to offer her his heart and his +protection. It goes without saying that it means more to her than to the +sheltered woman, for it means things different and more wonderful. It is +the expected unexpected come to pass; it is the impossible achieved. It +is not only success; it is success with an aureole of glory. + +I suppose I must be parasitical by nature, for I never have conceived of +life as other than dependent on some man who would love me and take care +of me. Even when no such man appeared and I was forced out to earn my +bread, I looked upon the need as temporary only. In the loneliest of +times at Mrs. Rossiter's, at periods when I didn't see a man for weeks, +the hero never seemed farther away than just behind the scenes. I +confess to minutes when I thought he tarried unnecessarily long; I +confess to terrified questionings as to what would happen were he never +to come at all; I confess to solitary watches of the night in company +with fears and tears; but I cannot confess to anything more than a low +burning of that lamp of hope which never went out entirely. + +When, therefore, Hugh Brokenshire offered me what he had to offer me I +felt for a few minutes--ten, fifteen, twenty perhaps--that sense of the +fruition of the being which I am sure comes to us but rarely in this +life, and perhaps is a foretaste of eternity. I was like a creature that +has long been struggling up to some higher state--and has reached it. + +I am ashamed to say, too, that my first consciousness came in pictures +to which the dear young man himself was only incidental. Two scenes in +particular that for ten years past had been only a little below the +threshold of my consciousness came out boldly, like developed +photographs. I was the center of both. In one I saw a dainty little +dining-room, where the table was laid. The damask was beautiful; the +silver rich; the glasses crystalline. Wearing an inexpensive but +extremely chic little gown, I was seating the guests. The other picture +was more dim, but only in the sense that the room was deliciously +darkened. It had white furnishings, a little white cot, and toys. In its +very center was a bassinet, and I was leaning over it, wearing a +delicate lace peignoir. + +Ought I to blush to say that while Hugh stammered out his impassioned +declarations I was seeing these two tableaux emerging from the state of +only half-acknowledged dreams into real possibility? I dare say. I +merely affirm that it was so. Since the dominant craving of my nature +was to have a home and a baby, I saw the baby and the home before I +could realize a husband or a father, or bring my mind to the definite +proposals faltered by poor Hugh. + +But I did bring my mind to them, with the result of which I have already +given a sufficient indication. Even in admitting that I loved him I +thrust and parried and postponed. The whole idea was too big for me to +grapple with on the spur of a sudden moment. I suggested his talking the +matter over with his father chiefly to gain time. + + * * * * * + +But to rest in his arms had only a subordinate connection with the great +issue I had to face. It was a joy in itself. It was a pledge of the +future, even if I were never to take anything but the pledge. After my +shifts and struggles and anxieties I could feel the satisfaction of +knowing it was in my power to let them all roll off. If I were never to +do it, if I were to go back to my uncertainties, this minute would +mitigate the trial in advance. I might fight for existence during all +the rest of my life, and yet I should still have the bliss of +remembering that some one was willing to fight for me. + +He released me at last, since there might be people in Newport as +indifferent to weather as ourselves. + +"What happened?" he asked then, with an eagerness which almost choked +the question in its utterance. "Was it awful?" + +I was too nearly hysterical to enter on anything like a recital. "It +might have been worse," I half laughed and half sobbed, trying to +recover my breath and dry my eyes. + +His spirit seemed to leap at the answer. "Do you mean to say you got +concessions from him--or anything like that?" + +I couldn't help clinging to the edge of his raincoat. "Did you expect me +to?" + +"I didn't know but what, when he saw you--" + +"Oh, but he didn't see me. That was part of the difficulty. He looked +where I was--but he didn't find anything there." + +He laughed, with a hint of disappointment. "I know what you mean; but +you mustn't be surprised. He'll see you yet." He clasped me again. "I +didn't see you at first, little girl; I swear I didn't. You're like +that. A fellow must look at you twice before he knows that you're there; +but when he begins to take notice--" I struggled out of his embrace, +while he continued: "It's the same with all the great things--with +pictures and mountains and cathedrals, and so on. Often thought about it +when we've been abroad. See something once and pass it by. Next time you +look at it a little. Third time it begins to grow on you. Fourth time +you've found a wonder. You're a wonder, little Alix, do you know it?" + +"Oh no, I'm not. I must warn you, Hugh darling, that I'm very prosaic +and practical and ordinary. You mustn't put me on a pedestal--" + +"Put you on a pedestal? You were born on a pedestal. You're the woman +I've seen in hopes and dreams--" + +We began to walk on, coming to a little hollow that dipped near enough +to the shore to allow of our scrambling over the rocks to where we could +sit down among them. As we were here below the thickest belt of the fog +line, I could see him in a way that had been impossible on the bluff. + +If he was good-looking it was only in the handsome-ugly sense. Mrs. +Rossiter often said he was the one member of the family who inherited +from the Brews of Boston, a statement I could verify from the first Mrs. +Brokenshire's portrait by Carolus-Duran. Hugh's features were not +ill-formed so much as they were out of proportion to each other, +becoming thus a mere jumble of organs. The blue eyes were too small and +too wide apart; the forehead was too broad for its height; the nose, +which started at the same fine angle as his father's, changed in +mid-course to a knob; the upper lip was intended to be long, but +half-way in its descent took a notion to curve upward, making a hollow +for a tender, youthful, fair mustache that didn't quite meet in the +center and might have been applied with a camel's-hair brush; the lower +lip turned outward with a little fullness that spilled over in a little +fall, giving to the whole expression something lovably good-natured. + +Because the sea boiled over the ledges and scraped on the pebbles with a +screechy sound we were obliged to sit close together in order to make +ourselves heard. His arm about me was amazingly protective. I felt safe. + +The account of his interview with his father was too incoherent to give +me more than the idea that they had talked somewhat at cross-purposes. +To Hugh's statement that he wished to marry Miss Adare, the little +nursery governess at Ethel's, his father had responded by reading a +letter from Lord Goldborough inviting Hugh to his place in Scotland for +the shooting. + +"It would be well for you to accept," the father commented, as he +folded the letter. "I've cabled to Goldborough to say you'd sail on--" + +"But, father, how can I sail when I've asked Miss Adare to marry me?" + +To this the reply was the mention of the steamer and the date. He went +on to say, however: "If you've asked any one to marry you it's absurd, +of course. But I'll take care of that. If you go by that boat you'll +reach London in plenty of time to fit out at your tailor's and still be +at Strath-na-Cloid by the twelfth. In case you're short of money--" + +Apparently they got no further than that. To Hugh's assertions and +objections his father had but one response. It was a response, as I +understood, which confronted the younger man like a wall he had neither +the force to break down nor the agility to climb over, and left him +staring at a blank. + +Then followed another outburst which to my unaccustomed ear was as wild, +sweet music. It wasn't merely that he loved me, he adored me; it wasn't +merely that I was young and pretty and captivating with a sly, +unobtrusive fascination that held you enchanted when it held you at all. +I was mistress of the wisdom of the ages. Among the nice expensively +dressed young girls with whom he danced and rode and swam and flirted, +Hugh had never seen any one who could "hold a candle" to me in knowledge +of human nature and the world. It wasn't that I had seen more than they +or done more than they; it was that I had a mind through which every +impression filtered and came out as something of my own. It was what he +had always been looking for in a woman, and had given up the hope of +finding. He spoke as if he was forty. He was serious himself, he +averred; he had reflected, and held original convictions. Though a rich +man's son, with corresponding prospects, his heart was with the masses +and he labeled himself a Socialist. + +It was not the same thing to be a Socialist now, he explained to me, as +it had been twenty years before, since so many men of education and +position had adopted this system of opinion. In fact, his own conversion +had been partly due to young Lord Ernest Hayes, of the British Embassy, +who had spent the preceding summer at Newport, though his inclinations +had gone in this direction ever since he had begun to think. It was +because I was so open-eyed and so sincere that he had been drawn to me +as soon as he had started in to notice me. It was true that he had +noticed me first of all because I was in a subordinate position and +alone, but, having done so, he had found a queen disguised as a working +girl. I was a queen of the vital things in life, a queen of +intelligence, of sympathy, of the defiance of convention, of everything +that was great. I was the woman a Socialist could love, of whom a +Socialist could make his star. + +"If father would only give me credit for being twenty-six and a man," +the dear boy went on earnestly, "with a man's responsibility to society +and the human race! But he doesn't. He thinks I ought to quit being a +Socialist because he tells me to--or else he doesn't think at all. Nine +times out of ten, when I begin to say what I believe, he talks of +something else--just as he did last night in bringing up the +Goldboroughs." + +I found the opportunity for which I had been looking during his +impassioned rhapsody. The mention of the Goldboroughs gave me that kind +of chill about the heart which the mist imparted to the hands and face. + +"You know them all very well," I said, when I found an opening in which +I could speak. + +"Oh yes," he admitted, indifferently. "Known them all my life. Father +represented Meek & Brokenshire in England till my grandfather died. +Goldborough used to be an impecunious chap, land poor, till he and +father began to pull together. Father's been able to give him tips on +the market, and he's given father-- Well, dad's always had a taste for +English swells. Never could stand the Continental kind--gilt gingerbread +he's called 'em--and so, well, you can see." + +I admitted that I could see, going on to ask what the Goldborough family +consisted of. + +There was Lord Leatherhead, the eldest son; then there were two younger +sons, one in the army and one preparing for the Church; and there were +three girls. + +"Any of the daughters married?" I ventured, timidly. + +There was nothing forced in the indifference with which he made his +explanations. Laura was married to a banker named Bell; Janet, he +thought he had heard, was engaged to a chap in the Inverness Rangers; +Cecilia--Cissie they usually called her--was to the best of his +knowledge still wholly free, but the best of his knowledge did not go +far. + +I pumped up my courage again. "Is she--nice?" + +"Oh, nice enough." He really didn't know much about her. She was +generally away at school when he had been at Goldborough Castle. When +she was there he hadn't seen more than a long-legged, gawky girl, rather +good at tennis, with red hair hanging down her back. + +Satisfied with these replies, I went on to tell him of my interview with +his father an hour or two before. Of this he seized on one point with +some ecstasy. + +"So you told him you'd take me! Oh, Alix--gosh!" + +The exclamation was a sigh of relief as well as of rapture. I could +smile at it because it was so boyish and American, especially as he +clasped me again and held me in a way that almost stopped my breath. +When I freed myself, however, I said, with a show of firmness: + +"Yes, Hugh; it's what I said to him; but it's not what I'm going to +repeat to you." + +"Not what you're going to repeat to me? But if you said it to him--" + +"I'm still not obliged to accept you--to-day." + +"But if you mean to accept me at all--" + +"Yes, I mean to accept you--if all goes well." + +"But what do you mean by that?" + +"I mean--if your family should want me." + +I could feel his clasp relax as he said: "Oh, if you're going to wait +for that!" + +"Hugh, darling, how can I not wait for it? I told him I couldn't stop to +consider a family; but--but I see I must." + +"Oh, but why? We shall lose everything if you do that. To wait for my +family to want you to marry me--" + +I detached myself altogether from his embrace, pretending to arrange my +skirts about my feet. He leaned forward, his fingers interlocked, his +elbows on his knees, his kind young face disconsolate. + +"When I talked to your father," I tried to explain, "I saw chiefly the +individual's side of the question of marriage. There is that side; but +there's another. Marriage doesn't concern a man and a woman alone; it +concerns a family--sometimes two." + +His cry came out with the explosive force of a slowly gathering groan. +"Oh, rot, Alix!" He went on to expostulate: "Can't you see? If we were +to go now and buy a license--and be married by the first clergyman we +met--the family couldn't say a word." + +"Exactly; it's just what I do see. Since you want it I could force +myself on them--the word is your father's--and they'd have no choice but +to accept me." + +"Well, then?" + +"Hugh, dear, I--I can't do it that way." + +"Then what way could you do it?" + +"I'm not sure yet. I haven't thought of it. I only know in advance that +even if I told you I'd marry you against--against all their wishes, I +couldn't keep my promise in the end." + +"That is," he said, bitterly, "you think more of them than you do of +me." + +I put my hand on his clasped fingers. "Nonsense. I--I love you. Don't +you see I do? How could I help loving you when you've been so kind to +me? But marriage is always a serious thing to a woman; and when it comes +to marriage into a family that would look on me as a great +misfortune--Hugh, darling, I don't see how I could ever face it." + +"I do," he declared, promptly. "It isn't so bad as you think. Families +come round. There was Tracy Allen. Married a manicure. The Allens kicked +up a row at first--wouldn't see Tracy and all that; but now--" + +"Yes, but, Hugh, I'm not a manicure." + +"You're a nursery governess." + +"By accident--and a little by misfortune. I wasn't a nursery governess +when I first knew your sister." + +"But what difference does that make?" + +"It makes this difference: that a manicure would probably not think of +herself as your equal. She'd expect coldness at first, and be prepared +for it." + +"Well, couldn't you?" + +"No, because, you see, I'm your equal." + +He hunched his big shoulders impatiently. "Oh, Alix, I don't go into +that. I'm a Socialist. I don't care what you are." + +"But you see I do. I don't want to expose myself to being looked down +upon, and perhaps despised, for the rest of my life, because my family +is quite as good as your own." + +He turned slowly from peering into the fog-bank to fix on me a look of +which the tenderness and pity and incredulity seemed to stab me. I felt +the helplessness of a sane person insisting on his sanity to some one +who believes him mad. + +"Don't let us talk about those things, darling little Alix," he begged, +gently. "Let's do the thing in style, like Tracy Allen, without any +flummery or fluff. What's family--once you get away from the idea? When +I sink it I should think that you could afford to do it too. If I take +you as Tracy Allen took Libby Jaynes--that was her name, I remember +now--not a very pretty girl--but if I take you as he took her, and you +take me as she took him--" + +"But, Hugh, I can't. If I were Libby Jaynes, it's possible I could; but +as it is--" + +And in the end he came round to my point of view. That is to say, he +appreciated my unwillingness to reward Mrs. Rossiter's kindness to me by +creating a scandal, and he was not without some admiration for what he +called my "magnanimity toward his old man" in hesitating to drive him to +extremes. + +And yet it was Hugh himself who drove him to extremes, over questions +which I hardly raised. That was some ten days later, when Hugh refused +point-blank to sail on the steamer his father had selected to take him +on the way to Strath-na-Cloid. I was, of course, not present at the +interview, but having heard of it from Hugh, and got his account +corroborated by Ethel Rossiter, I can describe it much as it took place. + +I may say here, perhaps, that I still remained with Mrs. Rossiter. My +marching orders, expected from hour to hour, didn't come. Mrs. Rossiter +herself explained this delay to me some four days after that scene in +the breakfast loggia which had left me in a state of curiosity and +suspense. + +"Father seems to think that if he insisted on your leaving it would make +Hugh's asking you to marry him too much a matter of importance." + +"And doesn't he himself consider it a matter of importance?" + +Mrs. Rossiter patted a tress of her brown hair into place. "No, I don't +think he does." + +Perhaps nothing from the beginning had made me more inwardly indignant +than the simplicity of this reply. I had imagined him raging against me +in his heart and forming deep, dark plans to destroy me. + +"It would be a matter of importance to most people," I said, trying not +to betray my feeling of offense. + +"Most people aren't father," Mrs. Rossiter contented herself with +replying, still occupied with her tress of hair. + +It was the confidential hour of the morning in her big chintzy room. The +maid having departed, I had been answering notes and was still sitting +at the desk. It was the first time she had broached the subject in the +four days which had been to me a period of so much restlessness. +Wondering at this detachment, I had the boldness to question her. + +"Doesn't it seem important to you?" + +She threw me a glance over her shoulder, turning back to the mirror at +once. "What have I got to do with it? It's father's affair--and Hugh's." + +"And mine, too, I suppose?" I hazarded, interrogatively. + +To this she said nothing. Her silence gave me to understand what so many +other little things impressed upon me--that I didn't count. What Hugh +did or didn't do was a matter for the Brokenshires to feel and for J. +Howard Brokenshire to deal with. Ethel Rossiter herself was neither for +me nor against me. I was her nursery governess, and useful as an +unofficial companion-secretary. As long as it was not forbidden she +would keep me in that capacity; when the order came she would send me +away. As for anything I had to suffer, that was my own lookout. Hugh +would be managed by his father, and from that fate there was no appeal. +There was nothing, therefore, to worry Mrs. Rossiter. She could dismiss +the whole matter, as she presently did, to discuss her troubles over the +rival attentions of Mr. Millinger and Mr. Scott, and to protest against +their making her so conspicuous. She had the kindness to say, however, +just as she was leaving the house for Bailey's Beach: + +"I don't talk to you about this affair of Hugh's because I really don't +see much of father. It's his business, you see, and nothing for me to +interfere with. With that woman there I hardly ever go to their house, +and he doesn't often come here. Her mother's with them, too, just +now--that's old Mrs. Billing--a harpy if ever there was one--and with +all the things people are saying! If father only knew! But, of course, +he'll be the last one to hear it." + +She was getting into her car by this time and I seized no more; but at +lunch I had a few minutes in which to bring my searchings of heart +before Larry Strangways. + +It was not often we took this repast alone with the children, but it had +to happen sometimes. Mrs. Rossiter had telephoned from Bailey's that she +had accepted the invitation of some friends and we were not to expect +her. We should lunch, however, she informed me, in the breakfast loggia, +where the open air would act as chaperon and insure the necessary +measure of propriety. + +So long as Broke and Gladys were present we were as demure as if we had +met by chance in the restaurant car of a train. With the coffee the +children begged to be allowed to play with the dogs on the grass, which +left us for a few minutes as man and woman. + +"How is everything?" he asked at once, taking on that smile which seemed +to put him outside the sphere of my interests. + +I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at the spoon with which I was +dabbling in my cup. "Oh, just the same," I glanced up to say. "Tell me. +Have people in this country no other measure of your standing but that +of money?" + +"Have they any such measure in any country?" + +I was beginning with the words, "Why, yes," when he interrupted me. + +"Think." + +"I am thinking," I insisted. "In England and Canada and the British +Empire generally--" + +"You attach some importance to birth. Yes; so do we here--when it goes +with money. Without the basis of that support neither you nor we give +what is so deliciously called birth the honor of a second thought." + +"Oh yes, we do--" + +"When it's your only asset--yes; but you do it alone. No one else pays +it any attention." + +I colored. "That's rather cruel--" + +"It's not a bit more cruel than the fact. Take your case and mine as an +illustration. As the estimate of birth goes in this country, I'm as well +born as the majority. My ancestors were New-Englanders, country doctors +and lawyers and ministers--especially the ministers. But as long as I +haven't the cash I'm only a tutor, and eat at the second table. Jim +Rossiter's forebears were much the same as mine; but the fact that he +has a hundred thousand dollars a year and I've hardly got two is the +only thing that would be taken into consideration, by any one in either +the United Kingdom or the United States. It would be the same if I +descended from Crusaders. If I've got nothing but that and my character +to recommend me--" He raised his hand and snapped his fingers with a +scornful laugh. "Take your case," he hurried on as I was about to speak. +"You're probably like me, sprung of a line of professional men--" + +"And soldiers," I interrupted, proudly. "The first of my family to +settle in Canada was a General Adare in the middle of the seventeen +hundreds. He'd been in the garrison at Halifax and chose to remain in +Nova Scotia." Perhaps there was some boastfulness in my tone as I added, +"He came of the famous Fighting Adares of the County Limerick." + +"And all that isn't worth a row of pins--except to yourself. If you +were the daughter of a miner who'd struck it rich you'd be a candidate +for the British peerage. You'd be received in the best houses in London; +you could marry a duke and no one would say you nay. As it is--" + +"As it is," I said, tremulously, "I'm just a nursery governess, and +there's no getting away from the fact." + +"Not until you get away from the condition." + +"So that when I told Hugh Brokenshire the other day that in point of +family I was his equal--" + +"He probably didn't believe you." + +The memory of Hugh's look still rankled in me. "No, I don't think he +did." + +"Of course he didn't. As the world counts--as we all count--no poor +family, however noble, is the equal of any rich family, however base." +There was that transformation of his smile from something sunny to +something hard which I had noticed once before, as he went on to add, +"If you want to marry Hugh Brokenshire--" + +"Which I do," I interposed, defiantly. + +"Then you must enter into his game as he enters into it himself. He +thinks of himself as doing the big romantic thing. He's marrying a poor +girl who has nothing but herself as guaranty. That your +great-grandfather was a general and one of the--what did you call +them?--Fighting Adares of the County Cork would mean no more to him than +if you said you were descended from the Lacedaemonians and the dragon's +teeth. As far as that goes, you might as well be an immigrant girl from +Sweden; you might as well be a cook. He's stooping to pick up his +diamond from the mire, instead of buying it from a jeweler's window. +Very well, then, you must let him stoop. You mustn't try to +underestimate his condescension. You mustn't tell him you were once in +a jeweler's window, and only fell into the mire by chance--" + +"Because," I smiled, "the mire is where I belong, until I'm taken out of +it." + +"We belong," he stated, judicially, "where the world puts us. If we're +wise we'll stay there--till we can meet the world's own terms for +getting out." + + + + + CHAPTER V + + +I come at last to Hugh's defiance of his father. It took place not only +without my incitement, but without my knowledge. No one could have been +more sick with misgiving than I when I learned that the boy had left his +father's house and gone to a hotel. If I was to blame at all it was in +mentioning from time to time his condition of dependence. + +"You haven't the right to defy your father's wishes," I said to him. "so +long as you're living on his money. What it comes to is that he pays you +to do as he tells you. If you don't do as he tells you, you're not +earning your allowance honestly." + +The point of view was new to him. "But if I was making a living of my +own?" + +"Ah, that would be different." + +"You'd marry me then?" + +I considered this. "It would still have to depend," I was obliged to say +at last. + +"Depend on what?" + +"On the degree to which you made yourself your own master." + +"I should be my own master if I earned a good income." + +I admitted this. + +"Very well," he declared, with decision. "I shall earn it." + +I didn't question his power to do that. I had heard so much of the +American man's ability to make money that I took it for granted, as I +did a bird's capacity for flight. As far as Hugh was concerned, it +seemed to me more a matter of intention than of opportunity. I reasoned +that if he made up his mind to be independent, independent he would be. +It would rest with him. It was not of the future I was thinking so much +as of the present; and in the present I was chiefly dodging his plea +that we settle the matter by taking the law into our own hands. + +"It won't be as bad as you think," he kept urging. "Father would be sure +to come round to you if you were my wife. He never quarrels with the +accomplished fact. That's been part of the secret of his success. He'll +fight a thing as long as he can; but when it's carried over his head no +one knows better than he how to make the best of it." + +"But, Hugh, I don't want to have him make the best of it that way--at +least, so long as you're not your own master." + +One day at the Casino he pointed out Libby Jaynes to me. I was there in +charge of the children, and he managed to slip over from the tennis he +was playing for a word: + +"There she is--that girl with the orange-silk sweater." + +The point of his remark was that Libby Jaynes was one of a group of half +a dozen people, and was apparently received at Newport like anybody +else. The men were in flannels; the women in the short skirts and easy +attitudes developed by a sporting life. The silk sweater in its +brilliant hues was to the Casino grounds as the parrot to Brazilian +woods. Libby Jaynes wasn't pretty; her lips were too widely parted and +her teeth too big; but her figure was adapted to the costume of the day, +and her head to the slouching panama. She wore both with a decided +_chic_. She was the orange spot where there was another of purple and +another of pink and another of bright emerald-green. As far as I could +see no one remembered that she had ever rubbed men's finger-nails in the +barber's room of a hotel, and she certainly betrayed no sign of it. It +was what Hugh begged me to observe. If I liked I could within a year be +a member of this privileged troop instead of an outsider looking on. +"You'd be just as good as she is," he declared with a naivete I couldn't +help taking with a smile. + +I was about to say, "But I don't feel inferior to her as it is," when I +recalled the queer look of incredulity he had given me on the beach. + +And then one morning I heard he had quarreled with his father. It was +Hugh who told me first, but Mrs. Rossiter gave me all the details within +an hour afterward. + +It appeared that they had had a dinner-party in honor of old Mrs. +Billing which had gone off with some success. The guests having left, +the family had gathered in Mildred's sitting-room to give the invalid an +account of the entertainment. It was one of those domestic reunions on +which the household god insisted from time to time, so that his wife +should seem to have that support from his children which both he and she +knew she didn't have. The Jack Brokenshires were there, and Hugh, and +Ethel Rossiter. + +It was exactly the scene for a tragi-comedy, and had the kind of setting +theatrical producers liked before the new scene-painters set the note of +allegorical simplicity. Mildred had the best corner room up-stairs, +though, like the rest of the house, her surroundings suffered from her +father's taste for the Italianate and over-rich. Heavy dark cabinets, +heavy dark chairs, gilt candelabra, and splendidly brocaded stuffs threw +the girl's wan face and weak figure into prominence. I think she often +sighed for pretty papers and cretonnes, for Sevres and colored prints, +but she took her tapestries and old masters and majolica as decreed by a +power she couldn't question. When everything was done for her comfort +the poor thing had nothing to do for herself. + +The room had the further resemblance to a scene on the stage since, as I +was given to understand, no one felt the reality of the friendliness +enacted. To all J. Howard's children it was odious that he should +worship a woman who was younger than Mildred and very little older than +Ethel. They had loved their mother, who had been plain. They resented +the fact that their father had got hold of her money for himself, had +made her unhappy, and had forgotten her. That he should have become +infatuated with a girl who was their own contemporary would have been a +humiliation to them in any case; but when the story of his fight for her +became public property, when it was the joke of the Stock Exchange and +the subject of leading articles in the press, they could only hold their +heads high and carry the situation with bravado. It was a proof of his +grip on New York that he could put Editha Billing where he wished to see +her, and find no authority, social or financial, bold enough to question +him; it was equally a proof of his dominance in his family that neither +son nor daughter could treat his new wife with anything but deference. +She was the _maitresse en titre_ to whom even the princes and princesses +had to bow. + +They were bowing on this evening by treating old Mrs. Billing as if they +liked her and counted her one of themselves. As the mother of the +favorite she could reasonably claim this homage, and no one refused it +but poor Hugh. He turned his back on it. Mildred being obliged to lie on +a couch, he put himself at her feet, refusing thus to be witness of what +he called a flattering hypocrisy that sickened him. That went on in the +dimly, richly lighted room behind him, where the others sat about, +pretending to be gay. + +Then the match went into the gunpowder all at once. + +"I'm the more glad the evening has been pleasant," J. Howard observed, +blandly, "since we may consider it a farewell to Hugh. He's sailing +on--" + +Hugh merely said over his shoulder, "No, father; I'm not." + +The startled silence was just long enough to be noticed before the +father went on, as if he had not been interrupted: + +"He's sailing on--" + +"No, father; I'm not." + +There was no change in Hugh's tone any more than in his parent's. I +gathered from Mrs. Rossiter that all present held their breaths as if in +expectation that this blasphemer would be struck dead. Mentally they +stood off, too, like the chorus in an opera, to see the great tragedy +acted to the end without interference of their own. Jack Brokenshire, +who was fingering an extinct cigar, twiddled it nervously at his lips. +Pauline clasped her hands and leaned forward in excitement. Mrs. +Brokenshire affected to hear nothing and arranged her five rows of +pearls. Mrs. Billing, whom Mrs. Rossiter described as a condor with lace +on her head and diamonds round her shrunken neck, looked from one to +another through her lorgnette, which she fixed at last on her +son-in-law. Ethel Rossiter kept herself detached. Knowing that Hugh had +been riding for a fall, she expected him now to come his cropper. + +It caused some surprise to the lookers-on that Mr. Brokenshire should +merely press the electric bell. "Tell Mr. Spellman to come here," he +said, quietly, to the footman who answered his ring. + +Mr. Spellman appeared, a smooth-shaven man of indefinite age, with dark +shadows in the face, and cadaverous. His master instructed him with a +word or two. There was silence during the minute that followed the man's +withdrawal, a silence ominous with expectation. When Spellman had +returned and handed a long envelope to his employer and withdrawn again, +the suspended action was renewed. + +Hugh, who was playing in seeming unconcern with the tassel of Mildred's +dressing-gown, had given no attention to the small drama going on behind +him. + +"Hugh, here's father," Mildred whispered. + +Her white face was drawn; she was fond of Hugh; she seemed to scent the +catastrophe. Hugh continued to play with the tassel without glancing +upward. + +It was not J. Howard's practice to raise his voice or to speak with +emphasis except when the occasion demanded it. He was very gentle now as +his hand slipped over Hugh's shoulder. + +"Hugh, here's your ticket and your letter of credit. I asked Spellman to +see to them when he was in New York." + +The young man barely turned his head. "Thank you, father; but I don't +want them. I can't go over--because I'm going to marry Miss Adare." + +As it was no time for the chorus of an opera to intervene, all waited +for what would happen next. Old Mrs. Billing, turning her lorgnette on +the rebellious boy, saw nothing but the back of his head. The father's +hand wavered for a minute over the son's shoulder and let the envelope +fall. Hugh continued to play with the tassel. + +For once Howard Brokenshire was disconcerted. Having stepped back a pace +or two, he said in his quiet voice, "What did you say, Hugh?" + +The answer was quite distinct. "I said I was going to marry Miss Adare." + +"Who's that?" + +"You know perfectly well, father. She's Ethel's nursery governess. +You've been to see her, and she's told you she's going to marry me." + +"Oh, but I thought that was over and done with." + +"No, you didn't, father. Please don't try to come that. I told you +nearly a fortnight ago that I was perfectly serious--and I am." + +"Oh, are you? Well, so am I. The Goldboroughs are expecting you for the +twelfth--" + +"The Goldboroughs can go to--" + +"Hugh!" It was Mildred who cut him short with a cry that was almost a +petition. + +"All right, Milly," he assured her under his breath. "I'm not going to +make a scene." + +That J. Howard expected to become the principal in a duel, under the +eyes of excited witnesses, I do not think. If he had chosen to speak +when witnesses were present, it was because of his assumption that +Hugh's submission would be thus more easily secured. As it was his +policy never to enter into a conflict of authorities, or of will against +will, he was for the moment nonplussed. I have an idea he would have +retired gracefully, waiting for a more convenient opportunity, had it +not been for old Mrs. Billing's lorgnette. + +It will, perhaps, not interrupt my narrative too much if I say here that +of all the important women he knew he was most afraid of her. She had +coached him when he was a beginner in life and she an established young +woman of the world. She must then have had a certain _beaute du diable_ +and that nameless thing which men find exciting in women. I have been +told that she was an example of the modern Helen of Troy, over whom men +fight while she holds the stakes, and I can believe it. Her history was +said to be full of dramatic episodes, though I never knew what they +were. Even at sixty, which was the age at which I saw her, she had that +kind of presence which challenges and dares. She was ugly and hook-nosed +and withered; but she couldn't be overlooked. To me she suggested that +Madame Poisson who so carefully prepared her daughter to become the +Marquise de Pompadour. Stacy Grainger, I believe, was the Louis XV. of +her earlier plans, though, like a born strategist, she changed her +methods when reasons arose for doing so. I shall return to this later in +my story. At present I only want to say that I do not believe that Mr. +Brokenshire would have pushed things to an issue that night had her +lorgnette not been there to provoke him. + +"Has it occurred to you, Hugh," he asked, in his softest tones, on +reaching a stand before the chimney which was filled with dwarfed potted +palms, "that I pay you an allowance of six thousand dollars a year?" + +Hugh continued to play with the tassel of Mildred's gown. "Yes, father; +and as a Socialist I don't think it right. I've been coming to the +decision that--" + +"You'll spare us your poses and let the Socialist nonsense drop. I +simply want to remind you--" + +"I can't let the Socialist nonsense drop, father, because--" + +The tartness of the tone betrayed a rising irritation. + +"Be good enough to turn round this way. I don't understand what you're +saying. Perhaps you'll take a chair, and leave poor Mildred alone." + +Mildred whispered: "Oh, Hugh, be careful. I'll do anything for you if +you won't get him worked up. It'll hurt his face--and his poor eye." + +Hugh slouched--the word is Mrs. Rossiter's--to a nearby chair, where he +sat down in a hunched position, his hands in his trousers pockets and +his feet thrust out before him. The attitude was neither graceful nor +respectful to the company. + +"It's no use talking, father," he declared, sulkily, "because I've said +my last word." + +"Oh no, you haven't, for I haven't said my first." + +In the tone in which Hugh cried out there must have been something of +the plea of a little boy before he is punished: + +"Please don't give me any orders, father, because I sha'n't be able to +obey them." + +"Hugh, your expression 'sha'n't be able to obey' is not in the +vocabulary with which I'm familiar." + +"But it's in the one with which I am." + +"Then you've probably learnt it from Ethel's little servant--I've +forgotten the name--" + +Hugh spoke with spirit. "She's not a servant; and her name is Alexandra +Adare. Please, dad, try to fix it in your memory. You'll find you'll +have a lot of use for it." + +"Don't be impertinent." + +"I'm not impertinent. I'm stating a fact. I ask every one here to +remember that name--" + +"We needn't bring any one else into this foolish business. It's between +you and me. Even so, I wish to have no argument." + +"Nor I." + +"Then in that case we understand each other. You'll be with the +Goldboroughs for the twelfth--" + +Hugh spoke very distinctly: "Father--I'm--not--going." + +In the silence that followed one could hear the ticking of the +mantelpiece clock. + +"Then may I ask where you are going?" + +Hugh raised himself from his sprawling attitude, holding his bulky young +figure erect. "I'm going to earn a living." + +Some one, perhaps old Mrs. Billing, laughed. The father continued to +speak with great if dangerous courtesy. + +"Ah? Indeed! That's interesting. And may I ask at what?" + +"At what I can find." + +"That's more interesting still. Earning a living in New York is like the +proverbial looking for the needle in the haystack. The needle is there, +but it takes--" + +"Very good eyesight to detect it. All right, dad. I shall be on the +job." + +"Good! And when do you propose to begin?" + +It had not been Hugh's intention to begin at any time in particular, +but, thus challenged, he said, boldly, "To-morrow." + +"That's excellent. But why put it off so long? I should think you'd +start out--to-night." + +Mrs. Billing's "Ha-a!" subdued and prolonged, was like that tense +exclamation which the spectators utter at some exiting moment of a game. +It took no sides, but it did justice to a sporting situation. As Hugh +told me the story on the following day he confessed that more than any +other occurrence it put the next move "up to him." According to Ethel +Rossiter he lumbered heavily to his feet and crossed the room toward his +father. He began to speak as he neared the architectural chimneypiece, +merely throwing the words at J. Howard as he passed. + +"All right, father. Since you wish it--" + +"Oh no. My wishes are out of it. As you defy those I've expressed, +there's no more to be said." + +Hugh paused in his walk, his hands in the pockets of his dinner-jacket, +and eyed his father obliquely. "I don't defy your wishes, dad. I only +claim the right, as a man of twenty-six, to live my own life. If you +wouldn't make yourself God--" + +The handsome hand went up. "We'll not talk about that, if you please. +I'd no intention of discussing the matter any longer. I merely thought +that if I were in the situation in which you've placed yourself, I +should be--getting busy. Still, if you want to stay the night--" + +"Oh, not in the least." Hugh was as nonchalant as he had the power to +make himself. "Thanks awfully, father, all the same." He looked round on +the circle where each of the chorus sat with an appropriate expression +of horror--that is, with the exception of the old lady Billing, who, +with her lorgnette still to her eyes, nodded approval of so much spirit. +"Good night, every one," Hugh continued, coolly, and made his way toward +the door. + +He had nearly reached it when Mildred cried out: "Hugh! Hughie! You're +not going away like that!" + +He retraced his steps to the couch, where he stooped, pressed his +sister's thin fingers, and kissed her. In doing so he was able to +whisper: + +"Don't worry, Milly dear. Going to be all right. Shall be a man now. See +you soon again." Having raised himself, he nodded once more. "Good +night, every one." + +Mrs. Rossiter said that he was so much like a young fellow going to his +execution that she couldn't respond by a word. + +Hugh then marched up to his father and held out his hand. "Good night, +dad. We needn't have any ill-feeling even if we don't agree." + +But the Great Dispenser didn't see him. An imposing figure standing with +his hands behind his back, he kept his fingers clasped. Looking through +his son as if he was no more than air, he remarked to the company in +general: + +"I don't think I've ever seen Daisy Burke appear better than she did +to-night. She's usually so badly dressed." He turned with a little +deferential stoop to where Mrs. Brokenshire--whom Ethel Rossiter +described as a rigid, exquisite thing staring off into vacancy--sat on a +small upright chair. "What do you think, darling?" + +Hugh could hear the family trying to rally to the hint that had thus +been given them, and doing their best to discuss the merits and demerits +of Daisy Burke, as he stood in the big, square hall outside, wondering +where he should seek shelter. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + +What Hugh did in the end was simple. Finding the footman who was +accustomed to valet him, he ordered him to bring a supply of linen and +some suits to a certain hotel early on the following morning. He then +put on a light overcoat and a cap and left the house. + +The first few steps from the door he closed behind him gave him, so he +told me next day, the strangest feeling he had ever experienced. He was +consciously venturing forth into life without any of his usual supports. +What those supports had been he had never realized till then. He had +always been stayed by some one else's authority and buoyed all round by +plenty of money. Now he felt, to change the simile as he changed it +himself, as if he had been thrown out of the nest before having learnt +to fly. As he walked resolutely down the dark driveway toward Ochre +Point Avenue he was mentally hovering and balancing and trembling, with +a tendency to flop. There was no longer a downy bed behind him; no +longer a parent bill to bring him his daily worm. The outlook which had +been one thing when he was within that imposing, many-lighted mansion +became another now that he was turning his back on it permanently and in +the dark. + +This he confessed when he had surprised me by appearing at the breakfast +loggia, where I was having my coffee with little Gladys Rossiter +somewhere between half past eight and nine. He was not an early riser, +except when the tide enticed him to get up at some unusual hour to take +his dip, and even then he generally went back to bed. To see him coming +through the shrubbery now, carefully dressed, pallid and grave, half +told me his news before he had spoken. + +Luckily Gladys was too young to follow anything we said, so that after +having joyfully kissed her uncle Hugh she went on with her bread and +milk. Hugh took a cup of coffee, sitting sidewise to the table of which +only one end was spread, while I was at the head. It was the hour of the +day when we were safest. Mrs. Rossiter never left her room before eleven +at earliest, and no one else whom we were afraid of was likely to be +about. + +"Well, the fat's all in the fire, little Alix," were the words in which +he announced his position. "I'm out on my own at last." + +I could risk nothing in the way of tenderness, partly because of the +maid who was coming and going, and partly because that was something +Gladys would understand. I tried to let him see by my eyes, however, the +sympathy I felt. I knew he was taking the new turn of events soberly, +and soberly, with an immense semi-maternal yearning over him, I couldn't +help taking it myself. + +He told his tale quietly, with almost no interruption on my part. I was +pleased to note that he expressed nothing in the way of recrimination +toward his father. With the exception of an occasional fling at old Mrs. +Billing, whom he seemed to regard as a joss or a bottle imp, he was +temperate, too, in his remarks about everybody else. I liked his +sporting attitude and told him so. + +"Oh, there's nothing sporting in it," he threw off with a kind of +serious carelessness. "I'm a man; that's all. As I look back over the +past I seem to have been a doll." + +I asked him what were his plans. He said he was going to apply to his +cousin, Andrew Brew, of Boston, going on to tell me more about the Brews +than I had ever heard. He was surprised that I knew nothing of the +important house of Brew, Borrodaile & Co., of Boston, who did such an +important business with England and Europe in general. I replied that in +Canada all my connections had been with the law, and with Service people +in England. I noticed, as I had noticed before in saying things like +that, that, in common with most American business men, he looked on the +Army and Navy as inferior occupations. There was no money in either. +That in itself was sufficient to condemn them in the eyes of a +gentleman. + +I forgot to be nettled, as I sometimes had been, because of finding +myself so deeply immersed in his interests. Up to that minute, too, I +had had no idea that he had so much pride of birth. He talked of the +Brews and the Brokenshires as if they had been Bourbons and +Hohenzollerns, making me feel a veritable Libby Jaynes never to have +heard of them. Of the Brews in particular he spoke with reverence. There +had been Brews in Boston, he said, since the year one. Like all other +American families, as I came to know later, they were descended from +three brothers. In Norfolk and Suffolk they had been, so I +guessed--though Hugh passed the subject over with some vagueness--of +comparatively humble stock, but under the American flag they had +acquired money, a quasi-nobility and coats of arms. To hear a man +boasting, however modestly--and he was modest--of these respectable +nobodies, who had simply earned money and saved it, made me blush +inwardly in such a way that I vowed never to mention the Fighting Adares +again. + +I could do this with no diminution of my feeling for poor Hugh. His +artless glory in a line of ancestry of which the fame had never gone +beyond the shores of Massachusetts Bay was, after all, a harmless bit of +vanity. It took nothing away from his kindness, his good intentions, or +his solid worth. When he asked me how I should care to live in Boston I +replied that I should like it very much. I had always heard of it as a +pleasant city of English characteristics and affiliations. + +Wherever he was, I told him, I should be at home--if I made up my mind +to marry him. + +"But you have made up your mind, haven't you?" he asked, anxiously. + +I was obliged to reply with frankness, "Not quite, Hugh, because--" + +"Then what's the use of my getting into this hole, if it isn't to be +with you?" + +"You mean by the hole the being, as you call it, out on your own? But I +thought you did that to be a Socialist--and a man." + +"I've done it because father won't let me marry you any other way." + +"Then if that's all, Hugh--" + +"But it isn't all," he interrupted, hastily. "I don't say but what if +father had given us his blessing, and come down with another six +thousand a year--we could hardly scrub along on less--I'd have taken it +and been thankful. But now that he hasn't--well, I can see that it's +all for the best. It's--it's brought me out, as you might say, and +forced me to a decision." + +I harked back to the sentence in which he had broken in on me. "If it +was all, Hugh, then that would oblige me to make up my mind at once. I +couldn't be the means of compelling you to break with your family and +give up a large income." + +He cried out impatiently, "Alix, what the dickens is a family and a +large income to me in comparison with you?" + +I must say that his intensity touched me. Tears sprang into my eyes. I +risked Gladys's presence to say: "Hugh, darling, I love you. I can't +tell you what your generosity and nobleness mean to me. I hadn't +imagined that there was a man like you in the world. But if you could be +in my place--" + +He pushed aside his coffee-cup to lean with both arms on the table and +look me fiercely in the eyes. "If I can't be in your place, Alix, I've +seen women who were, and who didn't beat so terribly about the bush. +Look at the way Libby Jaynes married Tracy Allen. She didn't talk about +his family or his giving up a big income. She trusted him." + +"And I trust you; only--" I broke off, to get at him from another point +of view. "Do you know Libby Jaynes personally?" + +He nodded. + +"Is she--is she anything like me?" + +"No one is like you," he exclaimed, with something that was almost +bitterness in the tone. "Isn't that what I'm trying to make you see? +You're the one of your kind in the world. You've got me where a woman +has never got a man before. I'd give up everything--I'd starve--I'd +lick dust--but I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, and I'd cling to +you and keep you." He, too, risked Gladys's presence. "But you're so +damn cool, Alix--" + +"Oh no, I'm not, Hugh, daring," I pleaded on my own behalf. "I may seem +like that on the outside, because--oh, because I've such a lot to think +of, and I have to think for us two. That's why I'm asking you if you +found Libby Jaynes like me." + +He looked puzzled. "She's--she's decent." he said, as if not knowing +what else to say. + +"Yes, of course; but I mean--does she strike you as having had my kind +of ways? Or my kind of antecedents?" + +"Oh, antecedents! Why talk about them?" + +"It's what you've been doing, isn't it, for the past half-hour?" + +"Oh, mine, yes; because I want you to see that I've got a big asset in +Cousin Andrew Brew. I know he'll do anything for me, and if you'll trust +me, Alix--" + +"I do trust you, Hugh, and as soon as you have anything like what would +make you independent, and justified in braving your family's +disapproval--" + +He took an apologetic tone. "I said just now that we couldn't scrape +along on less than twelve thousand a year--" + +To me the sum seemed ridiculously enormous. "Oh, I'm sure we could." + +"Well, that's what I've been thinking," he said, wistfully. "That figure +was based on having the Brokenshire position to keep up. But if we were +to live in Boston, where less would be expected of us, we could manage, +I should think, on ten." + +Even that struck me as too much. "On five, Hugh," I declared, with +confidence. "I know I could manage on five, and have everything we +needed." + +He smiled at my eagerness. "Oh, well, darling, I sha'n't ask you to come +down to that. Ten will be the least." + +To me this was riches. I saw the vision of the dainty dining-room again, +and the nursery with the bassinet; but I saw Hugh also in the +background, a little shadowy, perhaps, a little like a dream as an +artist embodies it in a picture, and yet unmistakably himself. I spoke +reservedly, however, far more reservedly than I felt, because I hadn't +yet made my point quite clear to him. + +"I'm sure we could be comfortable on that. When you get it--" + +I hadn't realized that this was the detail as to which he was most +sensitive. + +"There you go again! When I get it! Do you think I sha'n't get it?" + +I felt my eyebrows going up in surprise. "Why, no, Hugh, dear. I suppose +you know what you can get and what you can't. I was only going to say +that when you do get it I shall feel as if you were free to give +yourself away, and that I shouldn't have"--I tried to smile at him--"and +that I shouldn't have the air of--of stealing you from your family. +Can't you see, dear? You keep quoting Libby Jaynes at me; but in my +opinion she did steal Tracy Allen. That the Allens have made the best of +it has nothing to do with the original theft." + +"Theft is a big word." + +"Not bigger than the thing. For Libby Jaynes it was possibly all right. +I'm not condemning her. But it wouldn't be all right for me." + +"Why not? What's the difference?" + +"I can't explain it to you, Hugh, if you don't see it already. It's a +difference of tradition." + +"But what's difference of tradition got to do with love? Since you admit +that you love me, and I certainly love you--" + +"Yes, I admit that I love you, but love is not the only thing in the +world." + +"It's the biggest thing in the world." + +"Possibly; and yet it isn't necessarily the surest guide in conduct. +There's honor, for instance. If one had to take love without honor, or +honor without love, surely one would choose the latter." + +"And what would you call love without honor in this case?" + +I reflected. "I'd call it doing this thing--getting engaged or married, +whichever you like--just because we have the physical power to do it, +and making the family, especially the father, to whom you're indebted +for everything you are, unhappy." + +"He doesn't mind making you and me unhappy." + +"But that's his responsibility. We haven't got to do what's right for +him; we've only got to do what's right for ourselves." I fell back on my +maxim, "If we do right, only right will come of it, whatever the wrong +it seems to threaten now." + +"But if I made ten thousand a year of my own--" + +"I should consider you free. I should feel free myself. I should feel +free on less than so big an income." + +His spirits began to return. + +"I don't call that big. We should have to pinch like the devil to keep +our heads above water--no motor--no butler--" + +"I've never had either," I smiled at him, "nor a lot of the things that +go with them. Not having them might be privations to you--" + +"Not when you were there, little Alix. You can bet your sweet life on +that." + +We laughed together over the expression, and as Broke came bounding out +to his breakfast, with the cry, "Hello, Uncle Hughie!" we lapsed into +that language of signs and nods and cryptic things which we mutually +understood to elude his sharp young wits. By this method of _double +entendre_ Hugh gave me to understand his intention of going to Boston by +an afternoon train. He thought it possible he might stay there. The +friendliness of Cousin Andrew Brew would probably detain him till he +should go to work, which was likely to be in a day or two. Even if he +had to wait a week he would prefer to do so at Boston, where he had not +only ties of blood, but acquaintances and interests dating back to his +Harvard days, which had ended three years before. + +In the mean time, my position might prove to be precarious. He +recognized that, making it an excuse for once more forcing on me his +immediate protection. Marriage was not named by word on Broke's account, +but I understood that if I chose we could be marred within an hour or +two, go to Boston together, and begin our common life without further +delays. + +My answer to this being what it had been before, we discussed, over the +children's heads, the chances that could befall me before night. Of +these the one most threatening was that I might be sent away in +disgrace. If sent away in disgrace I should have to go on the instant. I +might be paid for a month or two ahead; it was probable I should be. It +was J. Howard's policy to deal with his cashiered employees with that +kind of liberality, so as to put himself more in the right. But I +should have to go with scarcely the time to pack my boxes, as Hugh had +gone himself, and must know of a place where I could take shelter. + +I didn't know of any such refuge. My sojourn under Mrs. Rossiter's roof +had been remarkably free from contacts or curiosities of my own. Hugh +knew no more than I. I could, therefore, only ask his consent to my +consulting Mr. Strangways, a proposal to which he agreed. This I was +able to do when Larry came for Broke, not many minutes after Hugh had +taken his departure. + +I could talk to him the more freely because of his knowledge of my +relation to Hugh. With the fact that I was in love with another man kept +well in the foreground between us, he could acquit me of those ulterior +designs on himself the suspicion of which is so disturbing to a woman's +friendship with a man. As the maid was clearing the table, as Broke had +to go to his lessons, as Gladys had to be remanded to the nursery while +I attended to Mrs. Rossiter's telephone calls and correspondence, our +talk was squeezed in during the seconds in which we retreated through +the dining-room into the main part of the house. + +"The long and short of it is," Larry Strangways summed up, when I had +confided to him my fears of being sent about my business as soon as Hugh +had left for Boston--"the long and the short of it is that I shall have +to look you up another job." + +It is almost absurd to point out that the idea was new to me. In going +to Mrs. Rossiter I had never thought of starting out on a career of +earning a living professionally, as you might say. I clung to the +conception of myself as a lady, with all sorts of possibilities in the +way of genteel interventions of Providence coming in between me and a +lifetime of work. I had always supposed that if I left Mrs. Rossiter I +should go back to my uncle and aunt at Halifax. After all, if Hugh was +going to marry me, it would be no more than correct that he should do it +from under their wing. Larry Strangways's suggestions of another job +threw open a vista of places I should fill in the future little short of +appalling to a woman instinctively looking for a man to come and support +her. + +I shelved these considerations, however, to say, as casually as I could: +"Why should you do it? Why shouldn't I look out for myself?" + +"Because when I've gone to Stacy Grainger it may be right in my line." + +"But I'd rather you didn't have me on your mind." + +He laughed--uneasily, as it seemed to me. "Perhaps it's too late for +that." + +It was another of the things I was sorry to hear him say. I could only +reply, still on the forced casual note: "But it's not too late for me to +look after my own affairs. What I'm chiefly concerned with is that if I +have to leave here--to-night, let us say--I sha'n't in the least know +where to go." + +He was ready for me in the event of this contingency. I suspected that +he had already considered it. He had a married sister in New York, a +Mrs. Applegate, a woman of philanthropic interests, a director on the +board of a Home for Working-Girls. Again I shied at the word. He must +have seen that I did, for he went on, with a smile in which I detected a +gleam of mockery: + +"You are a working-girl, aren't you?" + +I answered with the kind of humility I can only describe as spirited, +and which was meant to take the wind out of his sails: + +"I suppose so--as long as I'm working." But I gave him a flying upward +glance as I asked the imprudent question, "Is that how you've thought of +me?" + +I was sorry to have said it as soon as the words were out. I didn't want +to know what he thought of me. It was something with which I was so +little concerned that I colored with embarrassment at having betrayed so +much futile curiosity. Apparently he saw that, too, hastening to come to +my relief. + +"I've thought of you," he laughed, when we had reached the main +stairway, "as a clever little woman, with a special set of aptitudes, +who ought to be earning more money than she's probably getting here; and +when I'm with Stacy Grainger--" + +Grateful for this turning of the current into the business-like and +commonplace, I called Gladys, who was lagging in the dining-room with +Broke, and went on my way up-stairs. + +Mrs. Rossiter was sitting up in bed, her breakfast before her on a light +wicker tray that stood on legs. It was an abstemious breakfast, +carefully selected from foods containing most nutrition with least +adipose deposit. She had reached the age, within sight of the thirties, +when her figure was becoming a matter for consideration. It was almost +the only personal detail as to which she had as yet any cause for +anxiety. Her complexion was as bright as at eighteen; her brown hair, +which now hung in a loose, heavy coil over her left shoulder, was thick +and silky and long; her eyes were clear, her lips ruby. I always noticed +that she waked with the sleepy softness of a flower uncurling to the +sun. In the great walnut bed, of which the curves were gilded _a la_ +Louis Quinze, she made me think of that Jeanne Becu who became Comtesse +du Barry, in the days of her indolence and luxury. + +Having no idea as to how she would receive me, I was not surprised that +it should be as usual. Since I had entered her employ she was never what +I should call gracious, but she was always easy and familiar. Sometimes +she was petulant; often she was depressed; but beyond a belief that she +inspired tumultuous passions in young men there was no pose about her +nor any haughtiness. I was not afraid of her, therefore; I was only +uneasy as to the degree in which she would let herself be used against +me as a tool. + +"The letters are here on the bed," was her response to my greeting, +which I was careful to make in the form in which I made it every day. + +Taking the small arm-chair at the bedside, I sorted the pile. The notes +she had not glanced at for herself I read aloud, penciling on the +margins the data for the answers. Some I replied to by telephone, which +stood within her reach on the _table de nuit_; for a few I sat down at +the desk and wrote. I was doing the latter, and had just scribbled the +words "Mrs. James Worthington Rossiter will have much pleasure in +accepting--" when she said, in a slightly querulous tone: + +"I should think you'd do something about Hugh--the way he goes on." + +I continued to write as I asked, "How does he go on?" + +"Like an idiot." + +"Has he been doing anything new?" + +My object being to get a second version of the story Hugh had told me, I +succeeded. Mrs. Rossiter's facts were practically the same as her +brother's, only viewed from a different angle. As she presented the case +Hugh had been merely preposterous, dashing his head against a stone +wall, with nothing he could gain by the exercise. + +"The idea of his saying he'll not go to the Goldboroughs for the +twelfth! Of course he'll go. Since father means him to do it, he will." + +I was addressing an envelope, and went on with my task. "But I thought +you said he'd left home?" + +"Oh, well, he'll come back." + +"But suppose he doesn't? Suppose he goes to work?" + +"Pff! The idea! He won't keep that up long." + +I was glad to be sitting with my back to her. To disguise the quaver in +my voice I licked the flap of the envelope as I said: + +"But he'll have to if he means to support a wife." + +"Support a wife? What nonsense! Father means him to marry Cissie +Boscobel, as I've told you already--and he'll fix them up with a good +income." + +"But apparently Hugh doesn't see things that way. He's told me--" + +"Oh, he'd tell you anything." + +"He's told me," I persisted, boldly, "that he--he loves me; and he's +made me say that--that I love him." + +"And that's where you're so foolish, dear Miss Adare. You let him take +you in. It isn't that he's not sincere; I don't say that for a minute. +But people can't go about marrying every one they love, now can they? I +should think you'd have seen that--with the heaps of men you had there +at Halifax--hardly room to step over them." + +I said, slyly, "I never saw them that way." + +"Oh, well, I did. And by the way, I wonder what's become of that Captain +Venables. He was a case! He could take more liberties in a +half-hour--don't you think?" + +"He never took any liberties with me." + +"Then that must have been your fault. Talk about Mr. Millinger! Our men +aren't in it with yours--not when it comes to the real thing." + +I got back to the subject in which I was most interested by saying, as I +spread another note before me: + +"It seems to be the real thing with Hugh." + +"Oh, I dare say it is. It was the real thing with Jack. I don't +say"--her voice took on a tender tremolo--"I don't say that it wasn't +the real thing with me. But that didn't make any difference to father. +It was the real thing with Pauline Gray--when she was down there at +Baltimore; but when father picked her out for Jack, because of her money +and his relations with old Mr. Gray--" + +I couldn't help half turning round, to cry out in tones of which I was +unable to conceal the exasperation: "But I don't see how you can all let +yourselves be hooked by the nose like that--not even by Mr. +Brokenshire!" + +Her fatalistic resignation gave me a sense of helplessness. + +"Oh, well, you will before father has done with you--if Hugh goes on +this way. Father's only playing with you so far." + +"He can't touch me," I declared, indignantly. + +"But he can touch Hugh. That's all he needs to know, as far as you're +concerned." She asked, in another tone, "What are you answering now?" + +I told her it was the invitation to Mrs. Allen's dance. + +"Then tear it up and say I can't go. Say I've a previous engagement. I'd +forgotten that they had that odious Mrs. Tracy Allen there." + +I tore up the sheet slowly, throwing the fragments into the waste-paper +basket. + +"Why is she odious?" + +"Because she is." She dropped for a second into the tone of the early +friendly days in Halifax. "My dear, she was a shop-girl--or worse. I've +forgotten what she was, but it was awful, and I don't mean to meet her." + +I began to write the refusal. + +"She goes about with very good people, doesn't she?" + +"She doesn't go about with me, nor with some others I know, I can tell +you that. If she did it would queer us." + +In the hope of drawing out some such repudiation as that which I felt +myself, I said, dryly: "Hugh tells me that if I married him I could be +as good as she is--by this time next year." + +I got nothing for my pains. + +"That wouldn't help you much--not among the people who count." + +There was white anger underneath my meekness. + +"But perhaps I could get along with the people who don't count." + +"Yes, you might--but Hugh wouldn't." + +She dismissed the subject as one in which she took only a secondary +interest to say that old Mrs. Billing was coming to lunch, and that +Gladys and I should have to take that repast up-stairs. She was never +direct in her denunciations of her father's second marriage. She brought +them in by reference and innuendo, like a prisoner who keeps in mind the +fact that walls have ears. She gave me to understand, however, that she +considered Mrs. Billing a witch out of "Macbeth" or a wicked old +vulture--I could take my choice of comparisons--and she hated having her +in the house. She wouldn't do it only that, in ways she could hardly +understand, Mrs. Billing was the power behind the throne. She didn't +loathe her stepmother, she said in effect, so much as she loathed her +father's attitude toward her. I have never forgotten the words she used +in this connection, dropping her voice and glancing about her, afraid +she might be overheard. "It's as if God himself had become the slave of +some silly human woman just because she had a pretty face." The sentence +not only betrayed the Brokenshire attitude of mind toward J. Howard, but +sent a chill down my back. + +Having finished my notes and addressed them I rose to return to Gladys; +but there was still an unanswered question in my mind. I asked it, +standing for a minute beside the bed: + +"Then you don't want me to go away?" + +She arched her lovely eyebrows. "Go away? What for?" + +"Because of the danger of my marrying Hugh." + +She gave a little laugh. "Oh, there's no danger of that." + +"But there is," I insisted. "He's asked me a number of times to go with +him to the nearest clergyman, and settle the question once for all." + +"Only you don't do it. There you are! What father doesn't want doesn't +happen; and what he does want does. That's all there is to be said." + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + +As a matter of fact, that was all Mrs. Rossiter and I did say. I was so +relieved at not being thrown out of house and home on the instant that I +went back to Gladys and her lisping in French almost cheerily. You will +think me pusillanimous--and I was. I didn't want to go to Mrs. Applegate +and the Home for Working-Girls. As far as food and shelter were +concerned I liked them well enough where I was. I liked Mrs. Rossiter +too. I should be sorry to give the impression that she was supercilious +or unkind. She was neither the one nor the other. If she betrayed little +sentiment or sympathy toward me, it was because of admitting me into +that feminine freemasonry in which the emotional is not called for. I +might suffer while she remained indifferent; I might be killed on the +spot while she wouldn't shed a tear; and yet there was a heartless, +good-natured, live-and-let-live detachment about her which left me with +nothing but good-will. + +Then, too, I knew that when I married Hugh she would do nothing of her +own free will against me. She would not brave her father's decree, but +she wouldn't be intolerant; she might think Hugh had been a fool, but +when she could do so surreptitiously she would invite him and me to +dinner. + +As this was a kind of recognition in advance, I could not be otherwise +than grateful. + +It made waiting for Hugh the easier. I calculated that if he entered +into some sort of partnership with his cousin Andrew Brew--I didn't in +the least know what--we might be married within a month or two. At +furthest it might be about the time when Mrs. Rossiter removed to New +York, which would make it October or November. I could then slip quietly +back to Halifax, be quietly married, and quietly settle with Hugh in +Boston. In the mean time I was glad not to be disturbed. + +I spent, therefore, a pleasant morning with my pupil, and ate a pleasant +lunch, watching from the gable window of the school-room the great +people assemble in the breakfast loggia in honor of the Marquise de +Pompadour's mother. I am not sure that old Madame Poisson ever went to +court; but if she did I know the courtiers must have shown her just such +deference as that which Mrs. Rossiter's guests exhibited to this +withered old lady with the hooked nose and the lorgnette. + +I was curious about the whole entertainment. It was not the only one of +the kind I had seen from a distance since coming to Mrs. Rossiter, and I +couldn't help comparisons with the same kind of thing as done in the +ways with which I was familiar. Here it was less a luncheon than it was +an exquisite thing on the stage, rehearsed to the last point. In +England, in Canada, luncheon would be something of a friendly haphazard, +primarily for the sake of getting food, secondly as a means to a +scrambling, jolly sort of social intercourse, and hardly at all a +ceremonial. Here the ceremonial came first. Hostess and guests seemed +alike to be taking part in a rite of seeing and being seen. The food, +which was probably excellent, was a matter of slight importance. The +social intercourse amounted to nothing, since they all knew one another +but too well, and had no urgent vitality of interests in any case. The +rite was the thing. Every detail was prepared for that. Silver, +porcelain, flowers, doilies, were of the most expensive and the most +correct. The guests were dressed to perfection--a little too well, +according to the English standard, but not too well for a function. As a +function it was beautiful, an occasion of privilege, a proof of +attainment. It was the best thing of its kind America could show. Those +who had money could alone present the passport that would give the right +of admission. + +If I had a criticism to make, it was that the guests were too much +alike. They were all business men, and the wives or widows of business +men. The two or three who did nothing but live on inherited incomes were +business men in heart and in blood. Granted that in the New World the +business man must be dominant, it was possible to have too much of him. +Having too much of him lowered the standard of interest, narrowed the +circle of taste. In the countries I knew the business man might be +present at such a festivity, but there would be something to give him +color, to throw him into relief. There would be a touch of the creative +or the intellectual, of the spiritual or the picturesque. The company +wouldn't be all of a gilded drab. There would be a writer or a painter +or a politician or an actor or a soldier or a priest. There would be +something that wasn't money before it was anything else. Here there was +nothing. Birds of a feather were flocking together, and they were all +parrots or parrakeets. They had plumage, but no song. They drove out the +thrushes and the larks and the wild swans. Their shrill screeches and +hoarse shouts came up in a not wholly pleasant babel to the open window +where I sat looking down and Gladys hovered and hopped, wondering if +Thomas, the rosy-cheeked footman, would remember to bring us some of the +left-over ice-cream. + +I thought it was a pity. With elements as good as could be found +anywhere to form a Society--that fusion of all varieties of achievement +to which alone the word written with a capital can be applied--there was +no one to form it. It was a woman's business; and for the role of +hostess in the big sense the American woman, as far as I could judge, +had little or no aptitude. She was too timid, too distrustful of +herself, too much afraid of doing the wrong thing or of knowing the +wrong people. She was so little sure of her standing that, as Mrs. +Rossiter expressed it, she could be "queered" by shaking hands with +Libby Jaynes. She lacked authority. She could stand out in a throng by +her dress or her grace, but she couldn't lead or combine or co-ordinate. +She could lend a charming hand where some one else was the Lady Holland +or the Madame de Stael, but she couldn't take the seemingly +heterogeneous types represented by the writer, the painter, the +politician, the actor, the soldier, the priest, and the business man and +weld them into the delightful, promiscuous, entertaining whole to be +found, in its greater or lesser degree, according to size or importance +of place, almost anywhere within the borders of the British Empire. I +came to the conclusion that this was why there were few "great houses" +in America and fewer women of importance. + +It was why, too, the guests were subordinated to the ceremonial. It +couldn't be any other way. With flint and steel you can get a spark; but +where you have nothing but flint or nothing but steel, friction produces +no light. The American hostess, in so far as she exists, rarely hopes +for anything from the clash of minds, and therefore centers her +attention on her doilies. It must be admitted that she has the most +tasteful doilies in the world. There is a pathos in the way in which, +for want of the courage to get interesting human specimens together, she +spends her strength on the details of her rite. It is like the instinct +of women who in default of babies lavish their passion on little dogs. +One can say that it is _faute de mieux_. _Faute de mieux_ was, I am +sure, the reason why Ethel Rossiter took her table appointments with +what seemed to me such extraordinary seriousness. When all was said and +done it was the only real thing to care about. + +I repeat that I thought it was a pity. I had dreams, as I looked down, +of what I could do with the same use of money, the same position of +command. I had dreams that the Brokenshires accepted me, that Hugh came +into the means that would be his in the ordinary course. I saw myself +standing at the head of the stairway of a fine big house in Washington +or New York. People were streaming upward, and I was shaking hands with +a delightful, smiling _desinvolture_. I saw men and women of all the +ranks and orders of conspicuous accomplishment, each contributing a +gift--some nothing but beauty, some nothing but wit, some nothing but +money, some nothing but position, some nothing but fame, some nothing +but national importance. The Brokenshire clan was there, and the +Billings and the Grays and the Burkes; but statesmen and diplomatists, +too, were there, and those leaders in the world of the pen and the brush +and the buskin of whom, oddly enough, I saw Larry Strangways, with his +eternal defensive smile, emerging from the crowd as chief. I was wearing +diamonds, black velvet, and a train, waving in my disengaged hand a +spangled fan. + +From these visions I was roused by Gladys, who came prancing from the +stair-head. + +"_V'la, Mademoiselle! V'la Thomas et le ice-cream!_" + +Having consumed this dainty, we watched the company wander about the +terraces and lawns and finally drift away. I was getting Gladys ready +for her walk when Thomas, with a pitying expression on his boyish face, +came back to say that Mr. Brokenshire would like to speak with me +down-stairs. + +I was never so near fainting in my life. I had barely the strength to +gasp, "Very well, Thomas, I'll come," and to send Gladys to her nurse. +Thomas watched me with his good, kind, sympathetic eyes. Like the other +servants, he must have known something of my secret and was on my side. +I called him the _bouton de rose_, partly because his clean, pink cheeks +suggested a Killarney breaking into flower, and partly because in his +waiting on Gladys and me he had the yearning, care-taking air of a +fatherly little boy. Just now he could only march down the passage ahead +of me, throw open the door of my bedroom as if he was lord chamberlain +to a queen, and give me a look which seemed to say, "If I can be your +liege knight against this giant, pray, dear lady, command me." I threw +him my thanks in a trumped-up smile, which he returned with such sweet +encouragement as to nearly unman me. + +I stayed in my room only long enough to be sure that I was neat, +smoothing my hair and picking one or two threads from my white-linen +suit. The suit had scarlet cuffs and a scarlet belt, and as there was a +scarlet flush beneath my summer tan, like the color under the glaze of a +Chinese jar, I could see for myself that my appearance was not +ineffective. + +The _bouton de rose_ was in waiting at the foot of the stairs as I came +down. Through the hall and the dining-room he ushered me royally; but as +I came out on the breakfast loggia my royalty stopped with what I can +only describe as a bump. + +The guests had gone, but the family remained. The last phase of the +details of the rite were also on the table. All the doilies were there, +and the magnificent lace centerpiece which Mrs. Rossiter had at various +times called on me to admire. The old Spode dessert service was the more +dimly, anciently brilliant because of the old polished oak, and so were +the glasses and finger-bowls picked out in gold. + +Mr. Brokenshire, whom I had seen from my window strolling with some +ladies on the lawn, had returned to the foot of the table, opposite to +the door by which I came out, where he now sat in a careless, sidewise +attitude, fingering his cigar. Old Mrs. Billing, who was beside him on +his right, put up her lorgnette immediately I appeared in the entrance. +Mrs. Rossiter had dropped into a chance chair half-way down the table on +the left; but Mrs. Brokenshire, oddly enough, was in that same seat in +the far corner to which she had retreated on the occasion of my +summoning ten days before. I wondered whether this was by intention or +by chance, though I was presently to know. + +Terrified though I was, I felt salvation to lie in keeping a certain +dignity. I made, therefore, something between a bow and a courtesy, +first to Mr. Brokenshire, then to Mrs. Billing, then to Mrs. Rossiter, +and lastly to Mrs. Brokenshire, to whom I raised my eyes and looked all +the way diagonally across the loggia. I took my time in making these +four distinct salutations, though in response I was only stared at. +After that there was a space of some seconds in which I merely stood, in +my pose of _Ecce Femina_! + +"Sit down!" + +The command came, of course, from J. Howard. The chair to which I had +once before been banished being still in its corner, I slipped into it. + +"I wished to speak to you, Miss--a--Miss--" + +He glanced helplessly toward his daughter, who supplied the name. + +"Ah yes. I wished to speak to you, Miss Adare, because my son has been +acting very foolishly." + +I made my tone as meek as I could, scarcely daring to lift my eyes from +the floor. "Wouldn't it be well, sir, to talk to him about that?" + +Mrs. Billing's lorgnette came down. She glanced toward her son-in-law as +though finding the point well taken. + +He went on imperturbably. "I've said all I mean to say to him. My +present appeal is to you." + +"Oh, then this is an--appeal?" + +He seemed to hesitate, to reflect. "If you choose to take it so," he +admitted, stiffly. + +"It surely isn't as I choose to take it, sir; it's as you choose to +mean." + +"Don't bandy words." + +"But I must use words, sir. I only want to be sure that you're making an +appeal to me, and not giving me commands." + +He spoke sharply. "I wish you to understand that you're inducing a young +man to act in a way he is going to find contrary to his interests." + +I could barely nerve myself to look up at him. "If by the 'young man' +you mean Mr. Hugh Brokenshire, then I'm inducing him to do nothing +whatever; unless," I added, "you call it an inducement that I--I"--I was +bound to force the word out--"unless you call it an inducement that I +love him." + +"But that's it," Mrs. Rossiter broke in. "That's what my father means. +If you'd stop caring anything about him you wouldn't give him +encouragement." + +I looked at her with a dim, apologetic smile. It was a time, I felt, to +speak not only with more courage, but with more sentiment than I was +accustomed to use in expressing myself. + +"I'm afraid I can't give my heart, and take it back, like that." + +"I can," she returned, readily. She spoke as if it was a matter of +cracking her knuckles or wagging her ears. "If I don't want to like a +person I don't do it. It's training and self-command." + +"You're fortunate," I said, quietly. Why I should have glanced again at +Mrs. Brokenshire I hardly know; but I did so, as I added: "I've had no +training of that kind--and I doubt if many women have." + +Mrs. Brokenshire, who was gazing at me with the same kind of fascinated +stare as on the former occasion, faintly, but quite perceptibly, +inclined her head. In this movement I was sure I had the key to the +mystery that seemed to surround her. + +"All this," J. Howard declared, magisterially, "is beside the point. If +you've told my son that you'd marry him--" + +"I haven't." + +"Or even given him to understand that you would--" + +"I've only given him to understand that I'd marry him--on conditions." + +"Indeed? And would it be discreet on my part to inquire the terms you've +been kind enough to lay down?" + +I pulled myself together and spoke firmly. "The first is that I'll marry +him--if his family come to me and express a wish to have me as a sister +and a daughter." + +Old Mrs. Billing emitted the queer, cracked cackle of a hen when it +crows, but she put up her lorgnette and examined me more closely. Ethel +Rossiter gasped audibly, moving her chair a little farther round in my +direction. Mrs. Brokenshire stared with concentrated intensity, but +somehow, I didn't know why, I felt that she was backing me up. + +The great man contented himself with saying, "Oh, you will!" + +I ignored the tone to speak with a decision and a spirit I was far from +feeling. + +"Yes, sir, I will. I shall not steal him from you--not so long as he's +dependent." + +"That's very kind. And may I ask--" + +"You haven't let me tell you my other condition." + +"True. Go on." + +I panted the words out as best I could. "I've told him I'd marry him--if +he rendered himself independent; if he earned his own money and became a +man." + +"Ah! And you expect one or the other of these miracles to take place?" + +"I expect both." + +Though the words uttered themselves, without calculation or expectation +on my part, they gave me so much of the courage of conviction that I +held up my head. To my surprise Mrs. Billing didn't crow again or so +much as laugh. She only gasped out that long "Ha-a!" which proclaims +the sporting interest, of which both Hugh and Ethel Rossiter had told me +in the morning. + +Mr. Brokenshire seemed to brace himself, leaning forward, with his elbow +on the table and his cigar between the fingers of his raised right hand. +His eyes were bent on me--fine eyes they were!--as if in kindly +amusement. + +"My good girl," he said, in his most pitying voice, "I wish I could tell +you how sorry for you I am. Neither of these dreams can possibly come +true--" + +My blood being up, I interrupted with some force. "Then in that case, +Mr. Brokenshire, you can be quite easy in your mind, for I should never +marry your son." Having made this statement, I followed it up by saying, +"Since that is understood, I presume there's no object in my staying any +longer." I was half rising when his hand went up. + +"Wait. We'll tell you when to go. You haven't yet got my point. Perhaps +I haven't made it clear. I'm not interested in your hopes--" + +"No, sir; of course not; nor I in yours." + +"I haven't inquired as to that--but we'll let it pass. We're both +apparently interested in my son." + +I gave a little bow of assent. + +"I said I wished to make an appeal to you." + +I made another little bow of assent. + +"It's on his behalf. You could do him a great kindness. You could make +him understand--I gather that he's under your influence to some degree; +you're a clever girl, I can see that--but you could make him understand +that in fancying he'll marry you he's starting out on a task in which +there's no hope whatever." + +"But there is." + +"Pardon me, there isn't. By your own showing there isn't. You've laid +down conditions that will never be fulfilled." + +"What makes you say that?" + +"My knowledge of the world." + +"Oh, but would you call that knowledge of the world?" I was swept along +by the force of an inner indignation which had become reckless. +"Knowledge of the world," I hurried on, "implies knowledge of the human +heart, and you've none of that at all." I could see him flush. + +"My good girl, we're here to speak of you, not of me--" + +"Surely we're here to speak of us both, since at any minute I choose I +can marry your son. If I don't marry him it's because I don't choose; +but when I do choose--" + +Again the hand went up. "Yes, of course; but that's not what we want +specially to hear. Let us assume, as you say, that you can marry my son +at any time you choose. You don't choose, for the reason that you're +astute enough to see that your last state would be worse than the first. +To enter a family that would disown you at once--" + +I kept down my tone, though I couldn't master my excitement. "That's not +my reason. If I don't marry him it's precisely because I have the power. +There are people--cowards they are at heart, as a rule--who because they +have the power use it to be insolent, especially to those who are +weaker. I'm not one of those. There's a _noblesse oblige_ that compels +one in spite of everything. In dealing with an elderly man, who I +suppose loves his son, and with a lady who's been so kind to me as Mrs. +Rossiter--" + +"You've been hired, and you're paid. There's no special call for +gratitude." + +"Gratitude is in the person who feels it; but that isn't what I +specially want to say." + +"What you specially want to say apparently is--" + +"That I'm not afraid of you, sir; I'm not afraid of your family or your +money or your position or anything or any one you can control. If I +don't marry Hugh, it's for the reason that I've given, and for no other. +As long as he's dependent on your money I shall not marry him till you +come and beg me to do it--and that I shall expect of you." + +He smiled tolerantly. "That is, till you've brought us to our knees." + +I could barely pipe, but I stood to my guns. "If you like the +expression, sir--yes. I shall not marry Hugh--so long as you support +him--till I've brought you to your knees." + +If I expected the heavens to fall at this I was disappointed. All J. +Howard did was to lean on his arm toward Mrs. Billing and talk to her +privately. Mrs. Rossiter got up and went to her father, entering also +into a whispered colloquy. Once or twice he glanced backward to his +wife, but she was now gazing sidewise in the direction of the house and +over the lines of flowers that edged the terraces. + +When Mrs. Rossiter had gone back to her seat, and J. Howard had raised +himself from his conversation with Mrs. Billing, he began again to +address me tranquilly: + +"I hoped you might have sympathized with my hopes for Hugh, and have +helped to convince him how useless his plans for a marriage between him +and you must be." + +I answered with decision: "No; I can't do that." + +"I should have appreciated it--" + +"That I can quite understand." + +"And some day have shown you that I'm acting for your good." + +"Oh, sir," I cried, "whatever else you do, you'll let my good be my own +affair, will you not?" + +I thought I heard Mrs. Billing say, "Brava!" At any rate, she tapped her +fingers together as if in applause. I began to feel a more lenient +spirit toward her. + +"I'm quite willing to do that," my opponent said, in a moderate, +long-suffering tone, "now that I see that you refuse to take Hugh's good +into consideration. So long as you encourage him in his present +madness--" + +"I'm not doing that." + +He took no notice of the interruption. "--I'm obliged to regard him as +nothing to me." + +"That must be between you and your son." + +"It is. I'm only asking you to note that you--ruin him." + +"No, no," I began to protest, but he silenced me with a movement of his +hand. + +"I'm not a hard man naturally," he went on, in his tranquil voice, "but +I have to be obeyed." + +"Why?" I demanded. "Why should you be obeyed more than any one else?" + +"Because I mean to be. That must be enough--" + +"But it isn't," I insisted. "I've no intention of obeying you--" + +He broke in with some haste: "Oh, there's no question of you, my dear +young lady. I've nothing to do with you. I'm speaking of my son. He must +obey me, or take the consequences. And the consequences will last as +long as he lives. I'm not one to speak rashly, or to speak twice. So +that's what I'm putting to you. Do you think--do you honestly +think--that you're improving your position by ruining a man who sooner +or later--sooner rather than later--will lay his ruin at your door and +loathe you? Come now! You're a clever girl. The case is by no means +beyond you. Think, and think straight." + +"I am thinking, sir. I'm thinking so straight that I see right through +you. My father used to say--" + +"No reminiscence, please." + +"Very well, then; we'll let the reminiscence go. But you're thinking of +committing a crime, a crime against Hugh, a crime against yourself, a +crime against love, every kind of love--and that's the worst crime of +all--and you haven't the moral courage to shoulder the guilt yourself; +you're trying to shuffle it off on me." + +"My good woman--" + +But nothing could silence me now. I leaned forward, with hands clasped +in my lap, and merely looked at him. My voice was low, but I spoke +rapidly: + +"You're talking to bewilder me, to throw dust in my eyes, to snare me +into taking the blame for what you're doing of your own free act. It's a +kind of reasoning which some girls would be caught by, but I'm not one +of them. If Hugh is ruined in the sense you mean, it's his father who +will ruin him--but even that is not the worst. What's worst, what's +dastardly, what's not merely unworthy of a man like you but unworthy of +any man--of anything that calls itself a male--is that you, with all +your resources of every kind, should try to foist your responsibilities +off on a woman who has no resources whatever. That I shouldn't have +believed of any of your sex--if it hadn't happened to myself." + +But my eloquence left him as unmoved as before. He whispered with Mrs. +Billing. The old lady was animated, making beats and lunges with her +lorgnette. + +"So that what it comes to," he said to me at last, lifting himself up +and speaking in a tired voice, "is that you really mean to pit yourself +against me." + +"No, sir; but that you mean to pit yourself against me." Something +compelled me to add: "And I can tell you now that you'll be beaten in +the end." + +Perhaps he didn't hear me, for he rose and, stooping, carried on his +discussion with Mrs. Billing. There was a long period in which no one +paid any further attention to my presence; in fact, no one paid any +attention to me any more. To my last words I expected some retort, but +none came. Ethel Rossiter joined her father at the end of the table, and +when Mrs. Billing also rose the conversation went on _a trois_. Mrs. +Brokenshire alone remained seated and aloof. + +But the moment came when her husband turned toward her. Not having been +dismissed, I merely stood and looked on. What I saw then passed quickly, +so quickly that it took a minute of reflection before I could put two +and two together. + +Having taken one step toward his wife, Howard Brokenshire stood still, +abruptly, putting his hand suddenly to the left side of his face. His +wife, too, put up her hand, but palm outward and as if to wave him back. +At the same time she averted her face--and I knew it was his eye. + +It was over before either of the other two women perceived anything. +Presently, all four were out on the grass, strolling along in a little +chattering group together. My dismissal having come automatically, as +you might say, I was free to go. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + +An hour later I had what up to then I must call the greatest surprise of +my life. + +I was crying by myself on the shore, in that secluded corner among the +rocks where Hugh had first told me that he loved me. As a rule, I don't +cry easily. I did it now chiefly from being overwrought. I was desolate. +I missed Hugh. The few days or few weeks that must pass before I could +see him again stretched before me like a century. All whom I could call +my own were so far away. Even had they been near, they would probably, +with the individualism of our race, have left me to shift for myself. +Louise and Victoria had always given me to understand that, though they +didn't mind lending me an occasional sisterly hand, my life was my own +affair. It would have been a relief to talk the whole thing out +philosophically with Larry Strangways. As I came from the house I tried, +for the first time since knowing him, to throw myself in his path; but, +as usual when one needs a friend, he was nowhere to be seen. + +I could, therefore, only scramble down to my favorite corner among the +rocks. Not that it was really a scramble. As a matter of fact, the path +was easy if you knew where to find it; but it was hidden from the +ordinary passer on the Cliff Walk, first by a boulder, round which you +had to slip, and then by a tangle of wild rosebines, wild raspberries, +and Queen Anne's lace. It was something like a secret door, known only +to the Rossiter household, their servants, and their friends. Once you +had passed it you had a measure of the public privacy you get in a box +at the theater or the opera. You had space and ease and a wide outlook, +with no fear of intrusion. + +I cannot say that I was unhappy. I was rather in that state of mind +which the American people, with its gift for the happy, unexpected word, +have long spoken of as "mad." I was certainly mad. I was mad with J. +Howard Brokenshire first of all; I was mad with his family for having +got up and left me without so much as a nod; I was mad with Hugh for +having made me fall in love with him; I was mad with Larry Strangways +for not having been on the spot; and I was most of all mad with myself. +I had been boastful and bumptious; I had been disrespectful and absurd. +It was foolish to make worse enemies than I had already. Mrs. Rossiter +wouldn't keep me now. There would be no escape from Mrs. Applegate and +the Home for Working-Girls. + +The still summer beauty of the afternoon added to my wretchedness. All +round and before me there was luxury and joyousness and sport. The very +sea was in a playful mood, lapping at my feet like a tamed, affectionate +leviathan, and curling round the ledges in the offing with delicate +lace-like spouts of spume. Sea-gulls swooped and hovered with hoarse +cries and a lovely effect of silvery wings. Here and there was a sail on +the blue, or the smoke of a steamer or a war-ship. Eastons Point, some +two or three miles away, was a long, burnished line of ripening wheat. +To right and to left of me were broken crags, red-yellow, red-brown, +red-green, where lovers and happy groups could perch or nestle +carelessly, thrusting trouble for the moment to a distance. I had to +bring my trouble with me. If it had not been for trouble I shouldn't +have been there. There wasn't a soul in the world who would fight to +take my part but Hugh, and I was, in all my primary instincts, a +clinging, parasitic thing that hated to stand alone. + +There was nothing for it then but crying, and I did that to the best of +my ability; not loudly, of course, or vulgarly, but gently and +sentimentally, with an immense pity for myself. I cried for what had +happened that day and for what had happened yesterday. I cried for +things long past, which I had omitted to cry for at the time. When I had +finished with these I went further back to dig up other ignominies, and +I cried for them. I cried for my father and mother and my orphaned +condition; I cried for the way in which my father--who was a good, kind +man, _du reste_--had lived on his principal, and left me with scarcely a +penny to my name; I cried for my various disappointments in love, and +for the girl friends who had predeceased me. I massed all these motives +together and cried for them in bulk. I cried for Hugh and the brilliant +future we should have on the money he would make. I cried for Larry +Strangways and the loneliness his absence would entail on me. I cried +for the future as well as for the past and if I could have thought of a +future beyond the future I should have cried for that. It was delicious +and sad and consoling all at once; and when I had no more tears I felt +almost as if Hugh's strong arm had been about me, and I was comforted. + +I was just wiping my eyes and wondering whether at the moment of going +homeward my nose would be too red, when I heard a quiet step. I thought +I must be mistaken. It was so unlikely that any one would be there at +this hour of the day--the servants generally came down at night--that +for a minute I didn't turn. It was the uncomfortable sense that some one +was behind me that made me look back at last, when I caught the flutter +of lace and the shimmer of pale-rose taffeta. Mrs. Brokenshire had worn +lace and pale-rose taffeta at the lunch. + +Fear and amazement wrestled in my soul together. Struggling to my feet, +I turned round as slowly as I could. + +"Don't get up," she said in a sweet, quiet voice. "I'll come and sit +down beside you, if I may." She had already seated herself on a low flat +rock as she said, "I saw you were crying, so I waited." + +I am not usually at a loss for words, but I was then. I stuttered and +stammered and babbled, without being able to say anything articulate. +Indeed, I had nothing articulate to say. The mind had suspended its +action. + +My impressions were all subconscious, but registered exactly. She was +the most exquisite production I had ever seen in human guise. Her +perfection was that of some lovely little bird in which no color fails +to shade harmoniously into some other color, in which no single feather +is out of place. The word I used of her was _soignee_--that which is +smoothed and curled and polished and caressed till there is not an +eyelash which hasn't received its measure of attention. I don't mean +that she was artificial, or that her effects were too thought out. She +was no more artificial than a highly cultivated flower is artificial, or +a many-faceted diamond, or a King Charles spaniel, or anything else that +is carefully bred or cut or shaped. She was the work of some specialist +in beauty, who had no aim in view but to give to the world the loveliest +thing possible. + +When I had mastered my confusion sufficiently I sat down with the words, +rather lamely spoken: + +"I didn't know any one was here. I hope I haven't kept you standing +long." + +"No; but I was watching you. I came down only a few minutes after you +did. You see, I was afraid--when we came away from Mrs. Rossiter's--that +you might be unhappy." + +"I'm not as unhappy as I was," I faltered, without knowing what I said, +and was rewarded to see her smile. + +It was an innocent smile, without glee, a little sad in fact, but full +of unutterable things like a very young child's. I had never seen such +teeth, so white, so small, so regular. + +"I'm glad of that," she said, simply. "I thought if some--some other +woman was near you, you mightn't feel so--so much alone. That's why I +watched round and followed you." + +I could have fallen at her feet, but I restricted myself to saying: + +"Thank you very much. It does make a difference." I got courage to add, +however, with a smile of my own, "I see you know." + +"Yes, I know. I've thought about you a good deal since that day about a +fortnight ago--you remember?" + +"Oh yes, I remember. I'm not likely to forget, am I? Only, you see, I +had no idea--if I had, I mightn't have felt so--so awfully forlorn." + +Her eyes rested upon me. I can only say of them that they were sweet and +lovely, which is saying nothing at all. Sweet and lovely are the words +that come to me when I think of her, and they are so lamentably +overworked. She seemed to study me with a child-like unconsciousness. + +"Yes," she said at last, "I suppose you do feel forlorn. I didn't think +of that or--or I might have managed to come to you before." + +"That you should have come now," I said, warmly, "is the kindest thing +one human being ever did for another." + +Again there was the smile, a little to one side of the mouth, wistful, +wan. + +"Oh no, it isn't. I've really come on my own account." I waited for some +explanation of this, but she only went on: "Tell me about yourself. How +did you come here? Ethel Rossiter has never really said anything about +you. I should like to know." + +Her manner had the gentle command that queens and princesses and very +rich women unconsciously acquire. I tried to obey her, but found little +to say. Uttered to her my facts were so meager. I told her of my father +and mother, of my father's mania for old books, of Louise and Victoria +and their husbands, of my visits abroad; but I felt her attention +wandering. That is, I felt she was interested not in my data, but in me. +Halifax and Canada and British army and navy life and rare first +editions were outside the range of her ken. Paris she knew; and London +she knew; but not from any point of view from which I could speak of +them. I could see she was the well-placed American who knows some of the +great English houses and all of the great English hotels, but nothing of +that Britannic backbone of which I might have been called a rib. She +broke in presently, not apropos of anything I was saying, with the +words: + +"How old are you?" + +I told her I was twenty-four. + +"I'm twenty-nine." + +I said I had understood as much from Mrs. Rossiter, but that I could +easily have supposed her no older than myself. This was true. Had there +not been that something mournful in her face which simulates maturity I +could have thought of her as nothing but a girl. If I stood in awe of +her it was only of what I guessed at as a sorrow. + +She went on to give me two or three details of her life, with nearly all +of which I was familiar through hints from Hugh and Ethel Rossiter. + +"We're really Philadelphians, my mother and I. We've lived a good deal +in New York, of course, and abroad. I was at school in Paris, too, at +the Convent des Abeilles." She wandered on, somewhat inconsequentially, +with facts of this sort, when she added, suddenly: "I was to have +married some one else." + +I knew then that I had the clue to her thought. The marriage she had +missed was on her mind. It created an obsession or a broken heart, I +wasn't quite sure which. It was what she wanted to talk about, though +her glance fell before the spark of intelligence in mine. + +[Illustration: THE MARRIAGE SHE HAD MISSED WAS ON HER MIND. IT CREATED +AN OBSESSION OR A BROKEN HEART, I WASN'T QUITE SURE WHICH] + +Since there was nothing I could say in actual words, I merely murmured +sympathetically. At the same time there came to me, like the slow +breaking of a dawn, an illuminating glimpse of the great J. Howard's +life. I seemed to be admitted into its secret, into a perception of its +weak spot, more fully than his wife had any notion of. She would never, +I was sure, see what she was betraying to me from my point of view. She +would never see how she was giving him away. She wouldn't even see how +she was giving away herself--she was so sweet, and gentle, and +child-like, and unsuspecting. + +I don't know for how many seconds her quiet, inconsequential speech +trickled on without my being able to follow it. I came to myself again, +as it were, on hearing her say: + +"And if you do love him, oh, don't give him up!" + +I grasped the fact then that I had lost something about Hugh, and did my +best to catch up with it. + +"I don't mean to, if either of my conditions is fulfilled. You heard +what they were." + +"Oh, but if I were you I wouldn't make them. That's where I think you're +wrong. If you love him--" + +"I couldn't steal him from his family, even if I loved him." + +"Oh, but it wouldn't be stealing. When two people love each other +there's nothing else to think about." + +"And yet that might sometimes be dangerous doctrine." + +"If there was never any danger there'd never be any courage. And courage +is one of the finest things in life." + +"Yes, of course; but even courage can carry one very far." + +"Nothing can carry us so far as love. I see that now. It's why I'm +anxious about poor Hugh. I--I know a man who--who loves a woman whom +he--he couldn't marry, and--" She caught herself up. "I'm fond of Hugh, +you see, even though he doesn't like me. I wish he understood, that they +all understood--that--that it isn't my fault. If I could have had my +way--" She righted herself here with a slight change of tense. "If I +could have my way, Hugh would marry the woman he's in love with and +who's in love with him." + +I tried to enroll her decisively on my side. + +"So that you don't agree with Mr. Brokenshire." + +Her immediate response was to color with a soft, suffused rose-pink like +that of the inside of shells. Her eyes grew misty with a kind of +helplessness. She looked at me imploringly, and looked away. One might +have supposed that she was pleading with me to be let off answering. +Nevertheless, when she spoke at last, her words brought me to a new +phase of her self-revelation. + +"Why aren't you afraid of him?" + +"Oh, but I am." + +"Yes, but not like--" Again she saved herself. "Yes, but not like--so +many people. You may be afraid of him inside, but you fight." + +"Any one fights for right." + +There was a repetition of the wistful smile, a little to the left corner +of the mouth. + +"Oh, do they? I wish I did. Or rather I wish I had." + +"It's never too late," I declared, with what was meant to be +encouragement. + +There was a queer little gleam in her eye, like that which comes into +the pupil of a startled bird. + +"So I've heard some one else say. I suppose it's true--but it frightens +me." + +I was quite strangely uneasy. Hints of her story came back to me, but I +had never heard it completely enough to be able to piece the fragments +together. It was new for me to imagine myself called on to protect any +one--I needed protection so much for myself!--but I was moved with a +protective instinct toward her. It was rather ridiculous, and yet it was +so. + +"Only one must be sure one is right before one fights, mustn't one?" was +all I could think of saying. + +She responded dreamily, looking seaward. + +"Don't you think there may be worse things than wrong?" + +This being so contrary to my pet principles, I answered, emphatically, +that I didn't think so at all. I brought out my maxim that if you did +right nothing but right could come of it; but she surprised me by +saying, simply, "I don't believe that." + +I was a little indignant. + +"But it's not a matter of believing; it's one of proving, of +demonstration." + +"I've done right, and wrong came of it." + +"Oh, but it couldn't--not in the long run." + +"Well, then I did wrong. That's what I've been afraid of, and what--what +some one else tells me." If a pet bird could look at you with a +challenging expression it was the thing she did. "Now what do you say?" + +I really didn't know what to say. I spoke from instinct, and some common +sense. + +"If one's done wrong, or made a mistake, I suppose the only way one can +rectify it is to begin again to do right. Right must have a rectifying +power." + +"But if you've made a mistake the mistake is there, unless you go back +and unmake it. If you don't, isn't it what they call building on a bad +foundation?" + +"I dare say it is; and yet you can't push a material comparison too far +when you're thinking of spiritual things. This is spiritual, isn't it? I +suppose one can't really do evil and expect good to come of it; but one +can overcome evil with good." + +She looked at me with a sweet mistiness. + +"I've no doubt that's true, but it's very deep. It's too deep for me." +She rose with an air of dismissing the subject, though she continued to +speak of it allusively. "You know so much about it. I could see you did +from the first. If I was to tell you the whole story--but, of course, I +can't do that. No, don't get up. I have to run away, because we're +expecting people to tea; but I should have liked staying to talk with +you. You're awfully clever, aren't you? I suppose it must be living +round in those queer places--Gibraltar, didn't you say? I've seen +Gibraltar, but only from the steamer, on the way to Naples. I felt that +I was with you from that very first time I saw you. I'd seen you before, +of course, with little Gladys, but not to notice you. I never noticed +you till I heard that Hugh was in love with you. That was just before +Mr. Brokenshire took me over--you remember!--that day. He wanted me to +see how easily he could deal with people who opposed him; but I didn't +think he succeeded very well. He made you go and sit at a distance. That +was to show you he had the power. Did you notice what I did? Oh, I'm +glad. I wanted you to understand that if it was a question of love I +was--I was with you. You saw that, didn't you? Oh, I'm glad. I must run +away now. We've people to tea; but some time, if I can manage it, I'll +come again." + +She had begun slipping up the path, like a great rose-colored moth in +the greenery, when she turned to say: + +"I can never do anything for you, I'm too afraid of him; but I'm on your +side." + +After she had gone I began putting two and two together. What her visit +did for me especially was to distract my mind. I got a better +perspective on my own small drama in seeing it as incidental to a larger +one. That there was a large one here I had no doubt, though I could +neither seize nor outline its proportions. As far as I could judge of my +visitor I found her dazed by the magnitude of the thing that had +happened to her, whatever that was. She was good and kind; she hadn't a +thought that wasn't tender; normally she would have been the devoted, +clinging type of wife I longed to be myself; and yet some one's passion, +or some one's ambition, or both in collusion, had caught her like a bird +in a net. + +It was perhaps because she was a woman and I was a woman and J. Howard +was a man that my reactions concerned themselves chiefly with him. I +thought of him throughout the afternoon. I began to get new views of +him. I wondered if he knew of himself what I knew. I supposed he did. I +supposed he must. He couldn't have been married two or three years to +this sweet stricken creature without seeing that her heart wasn't his. +Furthermore, he couldn't have beheld, as he and I had beheld that +afternoon, the hand that went up palm outward, without divining a horror +of his person that was more than a shrinking from his poor contorted +eye. For love the contorted eye would have meant more love, since it +would have been love with its cognate of pity; but not so that uplifted +hand and that instinctive waving of him back. There was more than an +involuntary repulsion in that, more than an instant of abhorrence. What +there was he must have discovered, he must have tasted, from the minute +he first took her in his arms. + +I was sorry for him. I could throw enough of the masculine into my +imagination to know how he must adore a creature of such perfected +charm. She was the sort of woman men would adore, especially the men +whose ideal lies first of all in the physical. For them it would mean +nothing that she lacked mentality, that the pendulum of her nature had +only a limited swing; that she was as good as she looked would be +enough, seeing that she looked like an angel straight out of heaven. In +spite of poor J. Howard's kingly suavity I knew he must have minutes of +sheer animal despair, of fierce and bitter suffering. + +Mrs. Rossiter spoke to me that evening with a suggestion of reprimand, +which was letting me off easily. I was so sure of my dismissal, that +when I returned to the house from the shore I expected some sort of +_lettre de conge_; but I found nothing. I had had supper with Gladys and +put her to bed when the maid brought me a message to say that Mrs. +Rossiter would like me to come down and see her dress, as she was going +out to dinner. + +I was admiring the dress, which was a new one, when she said, rather +fretfully: + +"I wish you wouldn't talk like that to father. It upsets him so." + +I was adjusting a slight fullness at the back, which made it the easier +for me to answer. + +"I wouldn't if he didn't talk like that to me. What can I do? I have to +say something." + +She was peering into the cheval glass over her shoulder, giving her +attention to two things at once. + +"I mean your saying you expected both of those preposterous things to +happen. Of course, you don't--nor either of them--and it only rubs him +up the wrong way." + +I was too meek now to argue the point. Besides, I was preoccupied with +the widening interests in which I found myself involved. To probe the +security of my position once more, I said: + +"I wonder you stand it--that you don't send me away." + +She was still twisting in front of the cheval glass. + +"Don't you think that shoulder-strap is loose? It really looks as if the +whole thing would slip off me. If he can stand it I can," she added, as +a matter of secondary concern. + +"Oh, then he can stand it." I felt the shoulder-strap. "No, I think it's +all right, if you don't wriggle too much." + +"I'm sure it's going to come down--and there I shall be. He has to stand +it, don't you see, or let you think that you wound him?" + +I was frankly curious. + +"Do I wound him?" + +"He'd never let you know it if you did. The fact that he ignores you and +lets you stay on with me is the only thing by which I can judge. If you +didn't hurt him at all he'd tell me to send you about your business." +She turned from the glass. "Well, if you say that strap is all right I +suppose it must be, but I don't feel any too sure." She was picking up +her gloves and her fan which the maid had laid out, when she said, +suddenly: "If you're so keen on getting married, for goodness' sake why +don't you take that young Strangways?" + +My sensation can only be compared to that of a person who has got a +terrific blow on the head from a trip-hammer. I seemed to wonder why I +hadn't been crushed or struck dead. As it was, I felt that I could never +move again from the spot on which I stood. I was vaguely conscious of +something outraged within me and yet was too stunned to resent it. I +could only gasp, feebly, after what seemed an interminable time: "In the +first place, I'm not so awfully keen on getting married--" + +She was examining her gloves. + +"There, that stupid Seraphine has put me out two lefts. No, she hasn't; +it's all right. Stuff, my dear! Every girl is keen on getting married." + +"And then," I stammered on, "Mr. Strangways has never given me the +chance." + +"Oh, well, he will. Do hand me my wrap, like a love." I was putting the +wrap over her shoulders as she repeated: "Oh, well, he will. I can tell +by the way he looks at you. It would be ever so much more suitable. Jim +says he'll be a first-class man in time--if you don't rush in like an +idiot and marry Hugh." + +"I may marry Hugh," I tried to say, loftily, "but I hope I sha'n't do it +like an idiot." + +She swept toward the stairway, but she had left me with subjects for +thought not only for that evening, but for the next day and the next. +Now that the first shock was over I managed to work up the proper sense +of indignity. I told myself I was hurt and offended. She shouldn't have +mentioned such a thing. I wouldn't have stood it from one of my own +sisters. I had never thought of Larry Strangways in any such way, and to +do so disturbed our relations. To begin with, I wasn't in love with him; +and to end with, he was too poor. Not that I was looking for a rich +husband; but neither was I a lunatic. It would be years before he could +think of marrying, if there were no other consideration; and in the mean +time there was Hugh. + +There was Hugh with his letters from Boston, full of high ambitious +hopes. Cousin Andrew Brew had written from Bar Harbor that he was coming +to town in a day or two and would give him the interview he demanded. +Already Hugh had his eye on a little house on Beacon Hill--so like a +corner of Mayfair, he wrote, if Mayfair stood on an eminence--in which +we could be as snug as two love-birds. I was composing in my mind the +letter I should write to my aunt in Halifax, asking to be allowed to +come back for the wedding. + +I filled in the hours wondering how Larry Strangways looked at me when +there was only Mrs. Rossiter as spectator. I knew how he looked at me +when I was looking back--it was with that gleaming smile which defied +you to see behind it, as the sun defies you to see behind its rays. But +I wanted to know how he looked at me when my head was turned another +way; to know how the sun appears when you view it through a telescope +that nullifies its defensive. For that I had only my imagination, since +he had obtained two or three days' leave to go to New York to see his +new employer. He had warned me to betray no hint as to the new +employer's name, since there was a feud between the Brokenshire clan and +Stacy Grainger which I connected vaguely with the story I had heard of +Mrs. Brokenshire. + +Then on the fourth day Hugh came back. He appeared as he had on saying +good-by, while I was breakfasting with Gladys in the open air and Broke +was with his mother. Hugh was more pallid than when he went away; he was +positively woe-begone. Everything that was love in me leaped into flame +at sight of his honest, sorry face. + +I think I can tell his story best by giving it in my own words, in the +way of direct narration. He didn't tell it to me all at once, but bit by +bit, as new details occurred to him. The picture was slow in printing +itself on my mind, but when I got it it was with satisfactory +exactitude. + +He had been three days at the hotel in Boston before learning that +Cousin Andrew Brew was actually in town and would see him at the bank at +eleven on a certain morning. Hugh was on the moment. The promptitude +with which his relative sprang up in his seat, somewhat as if impelled +by a piece of mechanism, was truly cordial. Not less was the handshake +and the formula of greeting. The sons of J. Howard Brokenshire were +always welcome guests among their Boston kin, on whom they shed a +pleasant luster of metropolitan glory. While the Brews and Borrodailes +prided themselves on what they called their Boston provinciality and +didn't believe to be provinciality at all, they enjoyed the New York +connection. + +"Hello, Hugh! Glad to see you. Come in. Sit down. Looking older than +when I saw you last. Growing a mustache. Not married yet? Sit down and +tell us all about it. What can I do for you? Sit down." + +Hugh took the comfortable little upright arm-chair that stood at the +corner of his cousin's desk, while the latter resumed the seat of honor. +Knowing that the banker's time was valuable, and feeling that he would +reveal his aptitude for business by going to the point at once, the +younger man began his tale. He had just reached the fact that he had +fallen in love with a little girl on whose merits he wouldn't enlarge, +since all lovers had the same sort of things to say, though he was surer +of his data than others of his kind, when there was a tinkle at the desk +telephone. + +"Excuse me." + +During the conversation in which Cousin Andrew then engaged Hugh was +able to observe the long-established, unassuming comfort of this +friendly office, which suggested the cozy air that hangs about the +smoking-rooms of good old English inns. There was a warm worn carpet on +the floor; deep leather arm-chairs showed the effect of contact with two +generations of moneyed backs; on the walls the lithographed heads of +Brews and Borrodailes bore witness to the firm's respectability. In the +atmosphere a faint odor of tobacco emphasized the human associations. + +Cousin Andrew emphasized them, too. "Now!" He put down the receiver and +turned to Hugh with an air of relief at being able to give him his +attention. He was a tall, thin man with a head like a nut. It would have +been an expressionless nut had it not been for a facile tight-lipped +smile that creased his face as stretching creases rubber. Coming and +going rapidly, it gave him the appearance of mirth, creating at each end +of a long, mobile mouth two concentric semicircles cutting deep into the +cheeks that would have been of value to a low comedian. A slate-colored +morning suit, a white pique edge to the opening of the waistcoat, a +slate-colored tie with a pearl in it, emphasized the union of dignity +and lightness which were the keynotes to Cousin Andrew's character. +Blended as they were, they formed a delightfully debonair combination, +bringing down to your own level a man who was somebody in the world of +finance. It was part of his endearing quality that he liked you to see +him as a jolly good fellow no whit better than yourself. He was fond of +gossip and of the lighter topics of the moment. He was also fond of +dancing, and frequented most of the gatherings, private and public, for +the cultivation of that art which was the vogue of the year before the +Great War. With his tall, limber figure he passed for less than his age +of forty-three till you got him at close quarters. + +On the genial "Now!" in which there was an inflection of command Hugh +went on with his tale, telling of his breach with his father and his +determination to go into business for himself. + +"I ought to be independent, anyhow, at my age," he declared. "I've my +own views, and it's only right to confess to you that I'm a bit of a +Socialist. That won't make any difference, however, to our working +together, Cousin Andrew, for, to make a long story short, I've looked in +to tell you that I've come to the place where I should like to accept +your kind offer." + +The statement was received with cheerful detachment, while Cousin Andrew +threw himself forward with his arms on his desk, rubbing his long, thin +hands together. + +"My kind offer? What was that?" + +Hugh was slightly dashed. + +"About my coming to you if ever I wanted to go into business." + +"Oh! You're going into business?" + +Hugh named the places and dates at which, during the past few years, +Cousin Andrew had offered his help to his young kinsman if ever it was +needed. + +Cousin Andrew tossed himself back in his chair with one of his brisk, +restless movements. + +"Did I say that? Well, if I did I'll stick to it." There was another +tinkle at the telephone. "Excuse me." + +Hugh had time for reflection and some irritation. He had not expected to +be thrust into the place of a petitioner, or to have to make +explanations galling to his pride. He had counted not only on his +cousinship, but on his position in the world as J. Howard Brokenshire's +son. It seemed to him that Cousin Andrew was disposed to undervalue +that. + +"I don't want to hold you to anything you don't care for, Cousin +Andrew," he began, when his relative had again put the receiver aside, +"but I understood--" + +"Oh, that's all right. I've no doubt I said it. I do recall something of +the sort, vaguely, at a time when I thought your father might want-- In +any case we can fix you up. Sure to be something you can do. When'd you +like to begin?" + +Hugh expressed his willingness to be put into office at once. + +"Just so. Turn you over to old Williamson. He licks the young ones into +shape. Suppose your father'll think it hard of us to go against him. But +on the other hand he may be pleased--he'll know you're in safe hands." + +It was a delicate thing for Hugh to attempt, but as he was going into +business not from an irresistible impulse toward a financial career, but +in order to make enough money to marry on, he felt obliged to ask, in +such terms as he could command, how much money he should make. + +"Just so!" Cousin Andrew took up the receiver again. "Want to speak to +Mr. Williamson. . . . Oh, Williamson, how much is Duffers getting now? +. . . And how much before that? . . . Good! Thanks!" + +The result of these investigations was communicated to Hugh. He should +receive Duffers's pay, and when he had earned it should come in for +Duffers's promotion. The immediate effect was to make him look startled +and blank. "What?" was his only question; but it contained several +shades of incredulity. + +Cousin Andrew took this dismay in good part. + +"Why, what did you expect?" + +Hugh could only stammer: + +"I thought it would be more." + +"How much more?" + +Hugh sought an answer that wouldn't betray the ludicrous figure of his +hopes. + +"Well, enough to live on as a married man at least." + +The banker's good nature was proved by the creases of his rubber smile. + +"What did you think you'd be worth to us--with no backing from your +father?" + +The question was of the kind commonly called a poser. Hugh had not, so I +understood from him, hitherto thought of his entering his kinsfolks' +banking-house as primarily a matter of earning capacity. It wasn't to be +like working for "any old firm." He had prefigured it as becoming a +component part of a machine that turned out money of which he would get +his share, that share being in proportion to the dignity of the house +itself and bearing a relation to his blood connection with the +dominating partners. When Cousin Andrew had repeated his question Hugh +was obliged to reply: + +"I wasn't thinking of that so much as of what you'd be worth to me." + +"We could be worth a good deal to you in time." + +There was a ray of hope. + +"How long a time?" + +"Oh, twenty or thirty years, perhaps, if you work and save. Of course, +if you had capital to bring in--but you haven't, have you? Didn't Cousin +Sophy, your mother, leave everything to your father? I thought so. Mind +you, I'm putting out of the question all thought of your father's coming +round and putting money in for you. I'm talking of the thing on the +ground on which you've put it." + +Hugh had no heart to resent the quirks and grimaces in Cousin Andrew's +smile. He had all he could do in taking his leave in a way to save his +face and cast the episode behind him. The banker lent himself to this +effort with good-humored grace, accompanying his relative to the door of +the room, where he shook him by the shoulder as he turned the knob. + +"Thought you'd go right in as a director? Not the first youngster who's +had that idea, and you'll not be the last. Good-by. Let me hear from you +if you change your mind." He called after him, as the door was about to +close: "Best try to fix it up with your father, Hugh. As for the +girl--well, there'll be others, and more in your line." + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + +On that first morning I got no more than the gist of what had happened +during Hugh's visit to his cousin Andrew Brew. Hugh announced it in fact +by a metaphor as soon as we had exchanged greetings and he had sat down +at the table with his arm over Gladys's shoulder. + +"Well, little Alix, I got it where the chicken got the ax." + +"Where was that?" I asked, innocently, for the figure of speech was new +to me. + +"In the neck." + +Neither of us laughed. His tone was so lugubrious as to preclude +laughing. But I understood. I may say that by the time he had given me +the outline of what he had to say I understood more than he. I might +have seen poor Hugh's limitations before; but I never had. During the +old life in Halifax I had known plenty of young men brought up in +comfort who couldn't earn a living when the time came to do it. If I had +never classed Hugh among the number, it was because the Brokenshires +were all so rich that I supposed they must have some secret prescription +for wringing money from the air. Besides, Hugh was an American; and +American and money were words I was accustomed to pronounce together. I +never questioned his ability to have any reasonable income he +named--till now. Now I began to see him as he must have seen himself +during those first few minutes after turning his back on the parental +haven, alone and in the dark. + +I cannot say that for the moment I had any of the qualms of fear. My +yearning over him was too motherly for that. I wanted to comfort and, as +far as possible, to encourage him. Something within me whispered, too, +the words, "It's going to be up to me." I meant--or that which spoke in +me meant--that the whole position was reversed. I had been taking my +ease hitherto, believing that the strong young man who had asked me to +marry him would do the necessary work. It was to be up to him. My part +was to be the passive bliss of having some one to love me and maintain +me. That Hugh loved me I knew; that in one way or another he would be +able to maintain me I took for granted. With a Brokenshire, I assumed, +that would be the last of cares. And now I saw in a flash that I was +wrong; that I who was nothing but a parasite by nature would somehow +have to give my strong young man support. + +When all was said that he could say at the moment I took the +responsibility of sending Gladys indoors with the maid who was waiting +on the table, after which I asked Hugh to walk down the lawn with me. A +stone balustrade ran above the Cliff Walk, and here was a bit of +shrubbery where no one could observe us from the house, while passers on +the Cliff Walk could see us only by looking upward. At that hour in the +morning even they were likely to be rare. + +"Hugh, darling," I said, "this is becoming very, very serious. You're +throwing yourself out of house and home and your father's good-will for +my sake. We must think about it, Hugh--" + +His answer was to seize me in his arms--we were sufficiently screened +from view--and crush his lips against mine in a way that made speech +impossible. + +Again I must make a confession. It was his doing that sort of thing that +paralyzed my judgment. You will blame me, perhaps, but, oh, reader, have +you any idea of what it is never to have had a man wild to kiss you +before? Never before to have had any one adore you? Never before to have +been the greatest of all blessings to so much as the least among his +brethren? The experience was new to me. I had no rule of thumb by which +to measure it. I could only think that the man who wanted me with so mad +a desire must have me, no matter what reserves I might have preferred to +make on my own account. + +I struggled, however, and with some success. For the first time I +clearly perceived that occasions might arise in which, between love and +marriage, one might have to make a distinction. Ethel Rossiter's dictum +came back to me: "People can't go about marrying every one they love, +now can they?" It came to me as a terrible possibility that I might be +doomed to love Hugh all my life, and equally doomed to refuse him. If I +didn't, the responsibilities would be "up to me." If besides loving him +I were to accept him and marry him, it would be for me to see that the +one possible condition was fulfilled. I should have to bring J. Howard +to his knees. + +When he got breath to say anything it was with a mere hot muttering into +my face, as he held me with my head thrown back: + +"I know what I'm doing, little Alix. You mustn't ask me to count the +cost. The cost only makes you the more precious. Since I have to suffer +for you I'll suffer, but I'll never give you up. Do you take me for a +fellow who'd weigh money or comfort in the balances with you?" + +"No, Hugh," I whispered. His embrace was enough to strangle me. + +"Well, then, never ask me to think about this thing again, I've thought +all I'm going to. As I mean to get you anyhow, little Alix, you may as +well promise now, this very minute, that whatever happens you'll be my +wife." + +But I didn't promise. First I got him to release me on the ground that +some bathers, after a dip at Eastons Beach, were going by, with their +heads on a level with our feet. Then I asked the natural question: + +"What do you think of doing now?" + +He said he was going to let no mushrooms spring in his footsteps, and +that he was taking a morning train for New York. He talked about bankers +and brokers and moneyed things in general in a way I couldn't follow, +though I could see that in spite of Cousin Andrew Brew's rejection he +still expected great things of himself. Like me, he seemed to feel that +there was a faculty for conjuring money in the very name of Brokenshire. +Never having known what it was to be without as much money as he wanted, +never having been given to suppose that such an eventuality could come +to pass, it was perhaps not strange that he should consider his power of +commanding a large income to be in the nature of things. Bankers and +brokers would be glad to have him as their associate from the mere fact +that he was his father's son. + +I endeavored to throw a cup of cold water on too much certainty, by +saying: + +"But, Hugh, dear, won't you have to begin at the beginning? Wasn't that +what your cousin Andrew Brew--?" + +"Cousin Andrew Brew is an ass. He's one great big Boston +stick-in-the-mud. He wouldn't know which side his bread was buttered on, +not if it was buttered on both." + +"Still," I persisted, "you'll have to begin at the beginning." + +"Well, I shouldn't be the first." + +"No, but you might be the first to do it with a clog round his feet in +the shape of a person like me. How many years did your cousin +say--twenty or thirty, wasn't it?" + +"R-rot, little Alix!" He brought out the interjection with a +contemptuous roll. "It might be twenty or thirty years for a numskull +like Duffers, but for me! There are ways by which a man who's in the +business already, as you might say, goes skimming over the ground the +common herd have to tramp. Look at the gentlemen-rankers in your own +army. They enlist as privates, and in two or three years they're in the +officers' mess with a commission. That comes of their education and--" + +"That's often true, I admit. I've known of several cases in my own +experience. But even two or three years--" + +"Wouldn't you wait for me?" + +He asked the question with a sharpness that gave me something like a +stab. + +"Yes, of course, Hugh, if I promised you. And yet to bind you by such a +promise doesn't seem to me fair." + +"I'll take care of that," he declared, manfully. "As a matter of fact, +when father sees how determined I am, he'll only be too happy to do the +handsome thing and come down with the brass." + +"You think he's bluffing then?" I threw some conviction into my tone as +I added, "I don't." + +"He's not bluffing to his own knowledge; but he is--" + +"To yours. But isn't it his knowledge that we've got to go by? We must +expect the worst, even if we hope for the best." + +"And what it all comes to is--" + +"Is that you're facing a very hard time, Hugh, and I don't feel that I +can accept the responsibility of encouraging you to do it." + +"But, good Lord, Alix, you're not encouraging me. It's the other way +round. You're a perfect wet blanket; you're an ice-water shower. I'm +doing this thing on my own--" + +"You know, Hugh, I've seen your father since you went away." + +His face brightened. + +"Good! And did he show any signs of tacking to the wind?" + +"Not a bit. He said you would be ruined, and that I should ruin you." + +"The deuce you will! That's where he's got the wrong number, poor old +dad! I hope you told him you would marry me--and let him have it +straight." + +I made no reply to that, going on to tell him all that was said as to +bringing J. Howard to his knees. + +He roared with ironic laughter. + +"You did have the gall!" + +"Then you think they'll never, never accept me?" + +"Not that way; not beforehand." + +Hot rage rose within me, against him and them and this scorn of my +personality. + +"I think they will." + +"Not on your life! Dad wouldn't do it, not if I was on my death-bed and +needed you to come and raise me up. Milly is the only one; and even she +thinks I'm the craziest idiot--" + +"Very well, then, Hugh," I said, quickly; "I'm afraid we must consider +it all--" + +He gathered me into his arms as he had done before, and once more +stopped my protests. Once more, too, I yielded to this masculine +argument. + +"For you and me there's nothing but love," he murmured, with his cheek +pressed close against mine. + +"Oh no, Hugh," I managed to say, when I had struggled free. "There's +honor--and perhaps there's pride." It gave some relief to what I +conceived of as the humiliation he unconsciously heaped on me to be able +to add: "As a matter of fact, pride and honor, in me, are as inseparable +as the oxygen and hydrogen that go to make up water." + +He was obliged to leave it there, since he had no more than the time to +catch his train for New York. It was, however, the sense of pride and +honor that calmed my nerves when Mrs. Rossiter asked me to take little +Gladys to see her grandfather in the afternoon. I had done it from time +to time all through the summer, but not since Hugh had declared his love +for me. If I went now, I reasoned, it would have to be on a new footing; +and if it was on a new footing something might come of the visit in +spite of my fears. + +We started a little after three, as Gladys had to be back in time for +her early supper and bed. Chips, the wire-haired terrier, was nominally +at our heels, but actually nosing the shrubbery in front of us, or +scouring the lawns on our right with a challenging bark to any of his +kind who might be within earshot to come down and contest our passage. + +"_Qu'il est drole, ce Chips! N'est-ce-pas, mademoiselle?_" Gladys would +exclaim from time to time, to which I would make some suitable and +instructive rejoinder. + +Her hand was in mine; her eyes as they laughed up at me were of the +color of the blue convolvulus. In her little smocked liberty silk, with +a leghorn hat trimmed with a wreath of tiny roses, she made me yearn for +that bassinet between which and myself there were such stormy seas to +cross. Everything was to be up to me. That was the great solemnity from +which my mind couldn't get away. I was to be the David to confront +Goliath, without so much as a sling or a stone. What I was to do, and +how I was to do it, I knew no more than I knew of commanding an army. I +could only take my stand on the maxim of which I was making a +foundation-stone. I went so far as to believe that if I did right more +right would unfold itself. It would be like following a trail through a +difficult wood, a trail of which you observe all the notches and steps +and signs, sometimes with misgivings, often with the fear that you're +astray, but on which a moment arrives when you see with delight that +you're coming out to the clearing. So I argued as I prattled with Gladys +of such things as were in sight, of ships and lobster-pots and little +dogs, giving her a new word as occasion served, and trying to keep my +mind from terrors and remote anticipations. + +If you know Newport at all you know J. Howard Brokenshire's place in the +neighborhood of Ochre Point. Anyone would name it as you passed by. J. +Howard didn't build the house; he bought it from some people who, it +seemed, hadn't found in Newport the hospitality of which they were in +search. It is gloomy and fortress-like, as if the architect had planned +a Palazzo Strozzi which he hadn't the courage to carry out. That it is +incongruous with its surroundings goes without saying; but then it is +not more incongruous than anything else. I had been long enough in +America to see that for the man who could build on American soil a house +which would have some relation to its site--as they can do in Mexico, +and as we do to a lesser degree in Canada--fame and fortune would be in +store. + +The entrance hall was baronial and richly Italianate. One's first +impressions were of gilding and red damask. When one's eye lighted on a +chest or settle, one could smell the stale incense in a Sienese or Pisan +sacristy. At the foot of the great stairway ebony slaves held gilded +torches in which were electric lights. + +Both the greyhounds came sniffing to meet Chips, and J. Howard, who had +seen our approach across the lawn as we came from the Cliff Walk, +emerged from the library to welcome his grandchild. He wore a suit of +light-gray check, and was as imposingly handsome as usual. Gladys ran to +greet him with a childish cry. On seizing her he tossed her into the air +and kissed her. + +I stood in the middle of the hall, waiting. On previous occasions I had +done the same thing; but then I had not been, as one might say, +"introduced." I wondered if he would acknowledge the introduction now or +give me a glance. But he didn't. Setting Gladys down, he took her by the +hand and returned to the library. + +There was nothing new in this. It had happened to me before. Left like +an empty motor-car till there was need for me again, I had sometimes +seated myself in one of the huge ecclesiastical hall chairs, and +sometimes, if the door chanced to be open, had wandered out to the +veranda. As it was open this afternoon, I strolled toward the glimpse of +green lawn, and the sparkle of blue sea which gleamed at the end of the +hall. + +It was a possibility I had foreseen. Mrs. Brokenshire might be there. I +might get into further touch with the mystery of her heart. + +Mrs. Brokenshire was not on the veranda, but Mrs. Billing was. She was +seated in a low easy-chair, reading a French novel, and had been smoking +cigarettes. An inlaid Oriental taboret, on which were a gold +cigarette-case and ash-tray, stood beside her on the red-tiled floor. + +I had forgotten all about her, as seemingly she had forgotten about me. +Her surprise in seeing me appear was not greater than mine at finding +her. Instinctively she took up her lorgnette, which was lying in her +lap, but put it down without using it. + +"So it's you," was her greeting. + +"I beg your pardon, madam," I stammered, respectfully. "I didn't know +there was anybody here." + +I was about to withdraw when she said, commandingly: + +"Wait." I waited, while she went on: "You're a little spitfire. Did you +know it?" + +The voice was harsh, with the Quaker drawl I have noticed in the older +generation of Philadelphians; but the tone wasn't hostile. On the +contrary, there was something in it that invited me to play up. I played +up, demurely, however, saying, with a more emphatic respectfulness: + +"No, madam; I didn't." + +"Well, you can know it now. Who are you?" She made the quaint little +gesture with which I have seen English princesses summon those they +wished to talk to. "Come over here where I can get a look at you." + +I moved nearer, but she didn't ask me to sit down. In answer to her +question I said, simply, "I'm a Canadian." + +"Oh, a Canadian! That's neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. It's nothing." + +"No, madam, nothing but a point of view." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +I repeated something of my father's: + +"The point of view of the Englishman who understands America or of the +American who understands England, as one chooses to put it. The Canadian +is the only person who does both." + +"Oh, indeed? I'm not a Canadian--and yet I flatter myself I know my +England pretty well." + +I made so bold as to smile dimly. + +"Knowing and understanding are different things, madam, aren't they? The +Canadian understands America because he is an American; he understands +England because he is an Englishman. It's only of him that that can be +said. You're quite right when you label him a point of view rather than +a citizen or a subject." + +"I didn't label him anything of the kind. I don't know anything about +him, and I don't care. What are you besides being a Canadian?" + +"Nothing, madam," I said, humbly. + +"Nothing? What do you mean?" + +"I mean that there's nothing about me, that I have or am, that I don't +owe to my country." + +"Oh, stuff! That's the way we used to talk in the United States forty +years ago." + +"That's the way we talk in Canada still, madam--and feel." + +"Oh, well, you'll get over it as we did--when you're more of a people." + +"Most of us would prefer to be less of a people, and not get over it." + +She put up her lorgnette. + +"Who was your father? What sort of people do you come from?" + +I tried to bring out my small store of personal facts, but she paid them +no attention. When I said that my father had been a judge of the +Supreme Court of Nova Scotia I might have been calling him a voivode of +Montenegro or the president of a zemstvo. It was too remote from herself +for her mind to take in. I could see her, however, examining my +features, my hands, my dress, with the shrewd, sharp eyes of a +connoisseur in feminine appearance. + +She broke into the midst of my recital with the words: + +"You can't be in love with Hugh Brokenshire." + +Fearing attack from an unexpected quarter, I clasped my hands with some +emotion. + +"Oh, but, madam, why not?" + +The reply nearly knocked me down. + +"Because you're too sensible a girl. He's as stupid as an owl." + +"He's very good and kind," was all I could find to say. + +"Yes; but what's that? A girl like you needs more than a man who's only +good and kind. Heavens above, you'll want some spice in your life!" + +I maintained my meek air as I said: + +"I could do without the spice if I could be sure of bread and butter." + +"Oh, if you're marrying for a home let me tell you you won't get it. +Hugh'll never be able to offer you one, and his father wouldn't let him +if he was." + +I decided to be bold. + +"But you heard what I said the other day, madam. I expect his father to +come round." + +She uttered the queer cackle that was like a hen when it crows. + +"Oh, you do, do you? You don't know Howard Brokenshire. You could break +him more easily than you could bend him--and you can't break him. Good +Lord, girl, I've tried!" + +"But I haven't," I returned, quietly. "Now I'm going to." + +"How? What with? You can't try if you've nothing to try on." + +"I have." + +"For Heaven's sake--what?" + +I was going to say, "Right"; but I knew it would sound sententious. I +had been sententious enough in talking about my country. Now I only +smiled. + +"You must let me keep that as a secret," I answered, mildly. + +She gave herself what I can only call a hitch in her chair. + +"Then may I be there to see." + +"I hope you may be, madam." + +"Oh, I'll come," she cackled. "Don't worry about that. Just let me know. +You'll have to fight like the devil. I suppose you know that." + +I replied that I did. + +"And when it's all over you'll have got nothing for your pains." + +"I shall have had the fight." + +She looked hard at me before speaking. + +"Good girl!" The tone was that of a spectator who calls out, "Good hit!" +or, "Good shot!" at a game. "If that's all you want--" + +"No; I want Hugh." + +"Then I hope you won't get him. He's as big a dolt as his father, and +that's saying a great deal." Terrified, I glanced over my shoulder at +the house, but she went on imperturbably: "Oh, I know he's in there; but +what do I care? I'm not saying anything behind his back that I haven't +said to his face. He doesn't bear me any malice, either, I'll say that +for him." + +"Nobody could--" I began, deferentially. + +"Nobody had better. But that's neither here nor there. All I'm telling +you is to have nothing to do with Hugh Brokenshire. Never mind the +money; what you need is a husband with brains. Don't I know? Haven't I +been through it? My husband was kind and good, just like Hugh +Brokenshire--and, O Lord! The sins of the father are visited on the +children, too. Look at my daughter--pretty as a picture and not the +brains of a white mouse." She nodded at me fiercely, "You're my kind. I +can see that. Mind what I say--and be off." + +She turned abruptly to her book, hitching her chair a little away from +me. Accepting my dismissal, I said in the third person, as though I was +speaking to a royalty: + +"Madam flatters me too much; but I'm glad I intruded, for the minute, +just to hear her say that." + +I had made my courtesy and reached the door leading inward when she +called after me: + +"You're a puss. Do you know it?" + +Not feeling it necessary to respond in words, I merely smiled over my +shoulder and entered the house. + +In one of the big chairs I waited a half-hour before J. Howard came out +of the library with his grandchild. He had given her a doll which she +hugged in her left arm, while her right hand was in his. The farewell +scene was pretty, and took place in the middle of the hall. + +"Now run away," he said, genially, after much kissing and petting, "and +give my love to mamma." + +He might have been shooing the sweet thing off into the air. There was +no reference whatever to any one to take care of her. His eyes rested on +me, but only as they rested on the wall behind me. I must say it was +well done--if one has to do that sort of thing at all. Feeling myself, +as his regard swept me, no more than a part of the carved +ecclesiastical chair to which I stood clinging, I wondered how I was +ever to bring this man to seeing me. + +I debated the question inwardly while I chatted with Gladys on the way +homeward. I was obliged, in fact, to brace myself, to reason it out +again that right was self-propagating and wrong necessarily sterile. +Right I figured as a way which seemed to finish in a blind alley or +cul-de-sac, but which, as one neared what seemed to be its end, led off +in a new direction. Nearing the end of that there would be still a new +lead, and so one would go on. + +And, sure enough, the new lead came within the next half-hour, though I +didn't recognize it for what it was till afterward. + + + + + CHAPTER X + + +As we passed the Jack Brokenshire cottage, Larry Strangways and Broke, +with Noble, the collie, bounding beside them, came racing down the lawn +to overtake us. It was natural then that for the rest of the way Chips +and Noble should form one company, Broke and his sister another, while +we two elders strolled along behind them. + +It was the hour of the day for strolling. The mellow afternoon light was +of the kind that brings something new into life, something we should be +glad to keep if we knew how to catch it. It was not merely that grass +and leaf and sea had a shimmer of gold on them. There was a sweet +enchantment in the atmosphere, a poignant wizardry, a suggestion of +emotions both higher and lower than those of our poor mortal scale. They +made one reluctant to hurry one's footsteps, and slow in the return to +that sheerly human shelter we call home. All along the path, down among +the rocks, out in the water, up on the lawns, there were people, gentle +and simple alike, who lingered and idled and paused to steep themselves +in this magic. + +I have to admit that we followed their example. Anything served as an +excuse for it, the dogs and the children doing the same from a similar +instinct. I got the impression, too, that my companion was less in the +throes of the discretion we had imposed upon ourselves, for the reason +that his term as a mere educational lackey was drawing to a close. It +had, in fact, only two more days to run. Then August would come and he +would desert us. + +As it might be my last opportunity to surprise him into looking at me in +the way Mrs. Rossiter had observed, I kept my eye on him pretty closely. +I cannot say that I detected any change that flattered me. Tall and +straight and splendidly poised, he was as smilingly impenetrable as +ever. Like Howard Brokenshire, he betrayed no wound, even if I had +inflicted one. It was a little exasperating. I was more than piqued. + +I told him I hadn't heard of his return from New York and asked how he +had fared. His reply was enthusiastic. He had seen Stacy Grainger and +was eager to be his henchman. + +"He's got that about him," he declared, "that would make anybody glad to +work for him." + +He described his personal appearance, brawny and spare with the +attributes of race. It was an odd comment on the laws of heredity that +his grandfather was said to have begun life as a peddler, and yet there +he was a _grand seigneur_ to the finger-tips. I said that Howard +Brokenshire was also a _grand seigneur_, to which he replied that Howard +Brokenshire was a monument. American conditions had raised him, and on +those conditions he stood as a statue on its pedestal. His position was +so secure that all he had to do was stand. It was for this reason that +he could be so dictatorial. He was safely fastened to his base; nothing +short of seismic convulsion of the whole economic world was likely to +knock him off. In the course of that conversation I learned more of the +origin of the Brokenshire fortunes than I had ever before heard. + +It was the great-grandfather of J. Howard who apparently had laid the +foundation-stone on which later generations built so well. That +patriarch, so I understood, had been a farmer in the Connecticut Valley. +His method of finance was no more esoteric than that of lending out +small sums of money at a high rate of interest. Occasionally he took +mortgages on his neighbors' farms, with the result that he became in +time something of a landed proprietor. When the suburbs of a city had +spread over one of the possessions thus acquired, the foundation-stone +to which I have referred might have been considered well and truly laid. + +About the year 1830, his son migrated to New York. The firm of Meek & +Brokenshire, of which the fame was to go through two continents, was +founded when Van Buren was in the presidential seat and Victoria just +coming to the throne. It seems there was a Meek in those days, though at +the time of which I am writing nothing remained of him but a syllable. + +It was after the Civil War, however, when the grandson of the +Connecticut Valley veteran was in power, that the house of Meek & +Brokenshire forged to the front rank among financial agencies. It formed +European affiliations. It became the financial representative of a great +European power. John H. Brokenshire, whose name was distinguished from +that of his more famous son only by a distribution of initials, had a +house at Hyde Park Corner as well as one in New York. He was the first +American banker to become something of an international magnate. The +development of his country made him so. With the vexed questions of +slavery and secession settled, with the phenomenal expansion of the +West, with the freer uses of steam and electricity, with the tightening +of bonds between the two hemispheres, that pedestal was being raised on +which J. Howard was to pose with such decorative effectiveness. + +His posing began on his father's death in the year 1898. Up to that time +he had represented the house in England, the post being occupied now by +his younger brother James. Polished manners, a splendid appearance, and +an authoritative air imported to New York a touch of the Court of St. +James's. Mrs. Billing had called him a dolt. Perhaps he was one. If so +he was a dolt raised up and sustained by all that was powerful in the +United States. It was with these vast influences rather than with the +man himself that, as Larry Strangways talked, I began to see I was in +conflict. + +In Stacy Grainger, I gathered, the contemporaneous development of the +country had produced something different, just as the same piece of +ground will grow an oak or a rose-bush, according to the seed. People +with a taste for social antithesis called him the grandson of a peddler. +Mr. Strangways considered this description below the level of the +ancestral Grainger's occupation. In the days of scattered farms and +difficult communications throughout Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota +he might better have been termed an itinerant merchant. He was the +traveling salesman who delivered the goods. His journeys being made by +river boats and ox-teams, he began to see the necessity of steam. He was +of the group who projected the system of railways, some of which failed +and some of which succeeded, through the regions west of Lake Superior. +Later he forsook the highways for a more feverish life in the incipient +Chicago. His wandering years having given him an idea of the value of +this focal point, he put his savings into land. The phoenix rise of the +city after the great fire made him a man of some wealth. Out of the +financial crash of 1873 he became richer. His son grew richer still on +the panic of 1893, when he, too, descended on New York. It was he who +became a power on the Stock Exchange and bought the big house with which +parts of my narrative will have to do. + +All I want to say now is that as I strolled with Larry Strangways along +that sunny walk, and as he ran on about Brokenshires and Graingers, I +got my first bit of insight into the immense American romance which the +nineteenth century unfolded. I saw it was romance, gigantic, race-wide. +For the first time in my life I realized that there were other tales to +make men proud besides the story of the British Empire. + +I could see that Larry Strangways was proud--proud and anxious. I had +never seen this side of him before. Pride was in the way in which he +held his fine young head; there was anxiety in his tone, and now and +then in the flash of his eye, in spite of his efforts not to be too +serious. + +It was about the country that he talked--its growth, its vastness. Even +as recently as when he was a boy it was still a manageable thing, with a +population reckoned at no more than seventy or eighty millions. It had +been homogeneous in spirit if not in blood, and those who had come from +other lands, and been welcomed and adopted, accepted their new situation +with some gratitude. Patriotism was still a word with a meaning, and if +it now and then became spread-eagleism it was only as the waves when +thrown too far inland become froth. The wave was the thing and it hadn't +ebbed. + +"And do you think it has ebbed now?" I asked. + +He didn't answer this question directly. + +"We're becoming colossal. We shall soon count our people by the hundred +million and more. Of these relatively few will have got our ideals. +Some will reject them. There are mutterings already of other standards +to which we must be taught to conform. Some of our own best people of +pure Anglo-Saxon descent are losing heart and renouncing and denouncing +the democratic tradition, though they've nothing to put in its place. +And we're growing so huge--with a hugeness that threatens to make us +lethargic." + +I tried to be encouraging. + +"You seem to me anything but that." + +"National lethargy can easily exist side by side with individual energy. +Take China, for instance. There are few peoples in the world more +individually diligent than the Chinese; and yet when it comes to +national stirring it's a country as difficult to move as an unwieldy +overfed giant. It's flabby and nerveless and inert. It's spread half +over Asia, and it has the largest and most industrious population in the +world; and yet it's a congeries of inner weaknesses, and a prey to any +one who chooses to attack it." + +"And you think this country is on the way to being the China of the +west?" + +"I don't say on the way. There's danger of it. In proportion as we too +become unwieldy and overfed, the circulation of that national impulse +which is like blood grows slower. The elephant is a heavily moving beast +in comparison with the lion." + +"But it's the more intelligent," I argued, still with a disposition to +be encouraging. + +"Intelligence won't save it when the lion leaps on its back." + +"Then what will?" + +"That's what we want to find out." + +"And how are you going to do it?" + +"By men. We've come to a time when the country is going to need stronger +men than it ever had, and more of them." + +I suppose it is because I am a woman that I have to bring all questions +to the personal. + +"And is your Stacy Grainger going to be one?" + +He walked on a few paces without replying, his head in the air. + +"No," he said, at last, "I don't think so. He's got a weakness." + +"What kind of weakness?" + +"I'm not going to tell you," he laughed. "It's enough to say that it's +one which I think will put him out of commission for the job." He gave +me some inkling, however, of what he meant when he added: "The country's +coming to a place where it will need disinterested men, and +whole-hearted men, and clean-hearted men, if it's going to pull through. +It's extraordinary how deficient we've been in leaders who've had any of +these characteristics, to say nothing of all three." + +"Is the United States singular in that?" + +He spoke in a half-jesting tone probably to hide the fact that he was so +much in earnest. + +"No; perhaps not. But it's got to have them if it's going to be saved. +Moreover," he went on, "it must find them among the young men. The older +men are all steeped and branded and tarred and feathered with the +materialism of the nineteenth century. They're perfectly sodden. They +see no patriotism except in loyalty to a political machine; and no +loyalty to a political machine except for what they can get out of it. +From our Presidents down most of them will sacrifice any law of right +to the good of a party. They don't realize that nine times out of ten +the good of a party is the evil of the common weal; and our older men +will never learn the fact. If we can't wake the younger men, we're done +for." + +"And are you going to wake them?" + +"I'm going to be awake myself. That's all I can be responsible for. If I +can find another fellow who's awake I'll follow him." + +"Why not lead him? I should think you could." + +He turned around on me. I shall never forget the gleam in his eye. + +"No one is ever going to get away with this thing who thinks of +leadership. There are times in the history of countries when men are +called on to give up everything and be true to an ideal. I believe that +time is approaching. It may come into Europe in one way and to America +in another; but it's coming to us all. There'll be a call for--for--" he +hesitated at the word, uttering it only with an apologetic laugh--"for +consecration." + +I was curious. + +"And what do you mean by that--by consecration?" + +He reflected before answering. + +"I suppose I mean knowing what this country stands for, and being true +to it oneself through thick and thin. There'll be thin and there'll be +thick--plenty of them both--but it will be a question of the value of +the individual. If there had been ten righteous men in Sodom and +Gomorrah, they wouldn't have been destroyed. I take that as a kind of +figure. A handful of disinterested, whole-hearted, clean-hearted, and +perhaps I ought to add stout-hearted Americans, who know what they +believe and live by it, will hold the fort against all efforts, within +and without, to pull it down." He paused in his walk, obliging me to do +the same. "I've been thinking a good deal," he smiled, "during the past +few weeks of your law of Right--with a capital. I laughed at it when you +first spoke of it--" + +"Oh, hardly that," I interposed. + +"But I've come to believe that it will work." + +"I'm so glad." + +"In fact, it's the only thing that will work." + +"Exactly," I exclaimed, enthusiastically. + +"We must stand by it, we younger men, just as the younger men of the +late fifties stood by the principles represented by Lincoln. I believe +in my heart that the need is going to be greater for us than it was for +them, and if we don't respond to it, then may the Lord have mercy on our +souls." + +I give this scrap of conversation because it introduced a new note into +my knowledge of Americans. I had not supposed that any Americans felt +like that. In the Rossiter circle I never saw anything but an immense +self-satisfaction. Money and what money could do was, I am sure, the +only topic of their thought. Their ideas of position and privilege were +all spuriously European. Nothing was indigenous. Except for their sense +of money, their aims were as foreign to the soil as their pictures, +their tapestries, their furniture, and their clothes. Even stranger I +found the imitation of Europe in tastes which Europe was daily giving +up. But in Larry Strangways, it seemed to me, I found something native, +something that really lived and cared. It caused me to look at him with +a new interest. + +His jesting tone allowed me to take my cue in the same vein. + +"I'm tremendously flattered, Mr. Strangways, that you should have found +anything in my ideas that could be turned to good account." + +He laughed shortly and rather hardly. + +"Oh, if it was only that!" + +It was another of the things I wished he hadn't said, but with the words +he started on again, walking so fast for a few paces that I made no +effort to keep up with him. When he waited till I rejoined him we fell +again to talking of Stacy Grainger. At the first opportunity I asked the +question that was chiefly on my mind. + +"Wasn't there something at one time between him and Mrs. Brokenshire?" + +He marched on with head erect. + +"I believe so," he admitted, reluctantly, but not till some seconds had +passed. + +"There was a big fight, wasn't there," I persisted, "between him and Mr. +Brokenshire--over Editha Billing--on the Stock Exchange--or something +like that?" + +Again he allowed some seconds to go by. + +"So I've heard." + +I fished out of my memory such tag ends of gossip as had reached me, I +could hardly tell from where. + +"Didn't Mr. Brokenshire attack his interests--railways and steel and +things--and nearly ruin him?" + +"I believe there was some such talk." + +I admired the way in which he refused to lend himself to the spread of +the legend; but I insisted on going on, because the idea of this +conflict of modern giants, with a beautiful maiden as the prize, +appealed to my imagination. + +"And didn't old Mrs. Billing shift round all of a sudden from the man +who seemed to be going under to--?" + +He cut the subject short by giving it another twist. + +"Grainger's been unlucky. His whole family have been unlucky. It's an +instance of tragedy haunting a race such as one reads of in mythology +and now and then in modern history--the house of Atreus, for example, +and the Stuarts, and the Hapsburgs, and so on." + +I questioned him as to this, only to learn of a series of accidents, +suicides, and sudden deaths, leaving Stacy as the last of his line, +lonely and picturesque. + +At the foot of the steps leading up to the Rossiter lawn Larry +Strangways paused again. The children and dogs having preceded us and +being safe on their own grounds, we could consider them off our minds. + +"What do you know about old books?" he asked, suddenly. + +The question took me so much by surprise that I could only say: + +"What makes you think I know anything?" + +"Didn't your father have a library full of them? And didn't you +catalogue them and sell them in London?" + +I admitted this, but added that even that undertaking had left me very +ignorant of the subject. + +"Yes; but it's a beginning. If you know the Greek or Russian alphabet +it's a very good point from which to go on and learn the language." + +"But why should I learn that language?" + +"Because I know a man who's going to have a vacancy soon for a +librarian. It's a private library, rather a famous one in New York, and +the young lady at present in command is leaving to be married." + +I smiled pleasantly. + +"Yes; but what has that got to do with me?" + +"Didn't I tell you I was going to look you up another job?" + +"Oh! And so you've looked me up this!" + +"No, I didn't. It looked me up. The owner of the library mentioned the +fact as a great bore. It was his father who made the collection in the +days of the first great American splurge. Stacy Grainger has added a rug +or a Chinese jar from time to time, but he doesn't give a hang for the +lot." + +"Oh, so it's his." + +"Yes; it's his. He says he feels inclined to shut the place up; but I +told him it was a pity to do that since I knew the very young lady for +the post." + +I dropped the subject there, because of a new inspiration. + +"If Mr. Grainger has places at his command, couldn't he do something for +poor Hugh?" + +"Why poor Hugh? I thought he was--" + +I gave him a brief account of the fiasco in Boston, venturing to betray +Hugh's confidence for the sake of some possible advantage. Mr. +Strangways only shrugged his shoulders. + +"Of course," he said. "What could you expect?" I was sure he was looking +down on me with the expression Mrs. Rossiter had detected, though I +didn't dare to lift an eye to catch him in the act. "You really mean to +marry him?" + +"Mean to marry him is not the term," I answered, with the decision which +I felt the situation called for. "I mean to marry him only--on +conditions." + +"Oh, on conditions! What kind of conditions?" + +I named them to him as I had named them to others. First that Hugh +should become independent. + +He repeated his short, hard laugh. + +"I don't believe you had better bank on that." + +"Perhaps not," I admitted. "But I've another string to my bow. His +family may come and ask me." + +He almost shouted. + +"Never!" + +It was the tone they all took, and which especially enraged me. I kept +my voice steady, however, as I said, "That remains to be seen." + +"It doesn't remain to be seen, because I can tell you now that they +won't." + +"And I can tell you now that they will," I said, with an assurance that, +on the surface at least, was quite as strong as his own. + +He laughed again, more shortly, more hardly. + +"Oh, well!" + +The laugh ended in a kind of sigh. I noted the sigh as I noted the +laugh, and their relation to each other. Both reached me, touching +something within me that had never yet been stirred. Physically it was +like the prick of the spur to a spirited animal, it sent me bounding up +the steps. I was off as from a danger; and though I would have given +much to see the expression with which he stood gazing after me, I would +not permit myself so much as to glance back. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + +The steps by which I came to be Stacy Grainger's librarian could easily +be traced, though to do so with much detail would be tedious. + +After Hugh's departure for New York my position with Mrs. Rossiter soon +became untenable. The reports that reached Newport of the young man's +doings in the city were not merely galling to the family pride, but +maddening to his father's sense of pre-eminence. Hugh was actually going +from door to door, as you might say, in Wall Street and Broad Street, +only to be turned away. + +"He's making the most awful fool of himself," Mrs. Rossiter informed me +one morning, "and papa's growing furious. Jim writes that every one is +laughing at him, and, of course, they know it's all about some girl." + +I held my tongue at this. That they should be laughing at poor Hugh was +a new example of the world's falsity. His letters to me were only a +record of half-promises and fair speeches, but he found every one of +them encouraging. Nowhere had he met with the brutal treatment he had +received at the hands of Cousin Andrew Brew. The minute his card went in +to never so great a banker or broker, he was received with a welcome. If +no one had just the right thing to offer him, no one had turned him +down. It was explained to him that it was largely a matter of the off +season--for his purpose August was the worst month in the year--and of +the lack of an opening which it would be worth the while of a man of his +quality to fill. Later, perhaps! The two words, courteously spoken, gave +the gist of all his interviews. He had every reason to feel satisfied. + +In the mean while he was comfortable at his club--his cash in hand would +hold out to Christmas and beyond--and in the matter of energy, he wrote, +not a mushroom was springing in his tracks. He was on the job early and +late, day in and day out. The off season which was obviously a +disadvantage in some respects had its merits in others, since it would +be known, when things began to look up again, that he was available for +any big house that could get him. That there would be competition in +this respect every one had given him to understand. All this he told me +in letters as full of love as they were of business, written in a great, +sprawling, unformed, boyish hand, and with an occasional bit of phonetic +spelling which made his protestations the more touching. + +But Jim Rossiter's sources of information were of another kind. + +"Get your father to do something to stop him," he wrote to his wife. +"He's making the whole house of Meek & Brokenshire a laughing-stock." + +There came, in fact, a Saturday when Mr. Rossiter actually appeared for +the week-end. + +"He wouldn't be doing that," Mrs. Rossiter almost sobbed to me, on +receipt of the telegram announcing his approach, "unless things were +pretty bad." + +Though I dreaded his coming, I was speedily reassured. Whatever the +object of Mr. Rossiter's visit, I, in my own person, had nothing to do +with it. On the afternoon of his arrival he came out to where I was +knocking the croquet balls about with Gladys on the lawn, and was as +polite as he had been through the winter in New York. He was always +polite even to the maids, to whom he scrupulously said good-morning. His +wistful desire to be liked by every one was inspired by the same sort of +impulse as the jovial _bonhomie_ of Cousin Andrew Brew. He was a little, +weazened man, with face and legs like a jockey, which I think he would +gladly have been. Racin' and ridin', as he called them, were the +amusements in which he found most pleasure, while his health was his +chief preoccupation. He took pills before and after all his meals and a +variety of medicinal waters. During the winter under his roof my own +conversation with him had been entirely on the score of his complaints. + +In just the same way he sauntered up now. He talked of his lack of +appetite and the beastly cooking at clubs. Expecting him to broach the +subject of Hugh, I got myself ready; but he did nothing of the kind. He +was merely amiable and, as far as I could judge, indifferent. Within ten +minutes he had sauntered away again, leading Gladys by the hand. + +I saw then that in common with the other Brokenshires he considered that +I didn't count. Hugh could be dealt with independently of me. So long as +I was useful to his wife, there was no reason why I should be disturbed. +I was too light a thing to be weighed in their balances. + +Next day there was a grand family council and on Monday Jack Brokenshire +accompanied his brother-in-law to New York. Hugh wrote me of their +threats and flatteries, their beseechings and cajoleries. He was to come +to his senses; he was to be decent to his father; he was to quit being a +fool. I gathered that for forty-eight hours they had put him through +most of the tortures known to fraternal inquisition; but he wrote me he +would bear it all and more, for the sake of winning me. + +Nor would he allow them to have everything their own way. That he wrote +me, too. When it came to the question of marriage he bade them look at +home. Each of them was an instance of what J. Howard could do in the +matrimonial line, and what a mess he and they had made of it! He asked +Jack in so many words how much he would have been in love with Pauline +Gray if she hadn't had a big fortune, and, now that he had got her money +and her, how true he was to his compact. Who were Trixie Delorme and +Baby Bevan, he demanded, with a knowledge of Jack's affairs which +compelled the elder brother to tell him to mind his own business. + +Hugh laughed scornfully at that. + +"I can mind my own business, Jack, and still keep an eye on yours, +seeing that you and Pauline are the talk of the town. If she doesn't +divorce you within the next five years, it will be because you've +already divorced her. Even that won't be as big a scandal as your going +on living together." + +Mr. Rossiter intervened on this and did his best to calm the younger +brother down: + +"Ah, cut that out now, Hugh!" + +But Hugh rounded on him, shaking off the hand that had been laid on his +arm. + +"You're a nice one, Jim, to come with your mealy-mouthed talk to me. +Look at Ethel! If I'd married a woman as you married her--or if I'd been +married as she married you--just because your father was a partner in +Meek & Brokenshire and it was well to keep the money in the family--if +I'd done that I'd shut up. I'd consider myself too low-down a cur to be +kicked. What kind of a wife is Ethel to you? What kind of a husband are +you to her? What kind of a father do you make to the children who hardly +know you by sight? And now, just because I'm trying to be a man, and +decent, and true to the girl I love, you come sneaking round to tell me +she's not good enough. What do I care whether she's good enough or not, +so long as she isn't like Ethel and Pauline? You can go back and tell +them so." + +Jack Brokenshire came back, but I think he kept this confidence to +himself. What he told, however, was enough to produce a good deal of +gloom in the family. Though Mrs. Rossiter didn't cease to be nice to me +in her non-committal way, I began to reason that there were limits even +to indifference. I had made up my mind to go and was working out some +practical way of going, when an incident hastened my departure. + +Doing an errand one day for Mrs. Rossiter in the shopping part of +Bellevue Avenue, I saw old Mrs. Billing going by in an open motor +landaulette. She signaled to me to stop, and, poking the chauffeur in +the back through the open window, made him draw up at the curb. + +"I've got something for you," she said, without other form of greeting. +She began to stir things round in her bag. "I thought you'd like it. +I've been carrying it about with me for the last three or four +days--ever since Jack Brokenshire got back from New York. Where the +dickens is the thing? Ah, here!" She handed me out a crumpled card. +"That's all, Antoine," she continued to the man. "Drive on." + +I was left with the card in my hand, finding it to be an advertisement +for the Hotel Mary Chilton, a place of entertainment for women alone, in +a central and reputable part of New York. + +By the time I got back to Mrs. Rossiter's I had solved what had at first +been a puzzle, and, having reported on my errand, I gave my resignation +verbally. I saw then--what old Mrs. Billing had also seen--that it was +time. Mrs. Rossiter expressed no relief, but she made no attempt to +dissuade me. That she was sorry she allowed me to see. She didn't speak +of Hugh; but on the morning when I went she gave up her engagements to +stay at home with me. As I said good-by she threw her arms round my neck +and kissed me. I could feel on my cheek tears of hers as well as tears +of my own, as I drew down my veil. + +Hugh met me at the station in New York, and we dined at a restaurant +together. He came for me next morning, and we lunched and dined at +restaurants again. When we did the same on the third day that sense of +being in a false position which had been with me from the first, and +which argument couldn't counteract, began to be disquieting. On the +fourth day I tried to make excuses and remain at the hotel, but when he +insisted I was obliged to let him take me out once more. The people at +the Mary Chilton were kindly, but I was afraid they would regard me with +suspicion. I was afraid of some other things, besides. + +For one thing I was afraid of Hugh. He began again to plead with me to +marry him. Even he admitted that we couldn't continue to "go round +together like that." We went to the most expensive restaurants, he +argued, where there were plenty of people who would know him. When they +saw him every day with a girl they didn't know, they would draw their +own conclusions. As in a situation similar to theirs I would have drawn +my own, I brought my bit of Bohemianism to a speedy end. + +There followed some days during which it seemed to me I was deprived of +any outlook. I could hardly see what I was there for. I could hardly see +what I was living for. Never till then had I realized how, in normal +conditions, each day is linked to the day before as well as to the +morrow. Here the link was gone. I left nothing undone when I went to +bed; I had nothing to get up for in the morning. My reason for existing +had suddenly been snuffed out. + +It was a time for the testing of my faith. I was near the end of my +_cul-de-sac_, and yet I saw no further development ahead. If the +continuous unfolding of right on which, to use Larry Strangways's +expression, I had banked, were to come to a stop, I should be left not +only without a duty, but without a law. Of the two possibilities it was +the latter I dreaded most. One can live if one has a motive theory +within one; without it-- And then, just as I was coming to the last +stretches of what seemed a blind alley and no more, my confidence was +justified. Larry Strangways called on me. + +I have not said that on coming to New York I had decided to let my +acquaintance with him end. He made me uneasy. I was terrified by the +thought that he might be in love with me. Why I was terrified I didn't +know; I only knew I was. I did not tell him, therefore, when I left Mrs. +Rossiter; and in the whirlpool of New York I considered that I was +swallowed up. But here was his card, and he himself waiting in the +drawing-room below. + +Naturally my first question was as to how he had found me out. This he +laughed off, pretending to be annoyed with me for coming to the city +without telling him. I could see, however, that he was in spirits much +too high to allow of his being seriously annoyed with anything. Life +promised well with him. He enjoyed his work, and for his employer he +had that eager personal devotion which is always a herald of success. +After having run away from him, as it were, I was now a little irritated +at seeing that he hadn't missed me. + +But he did not take his leave without a bit of information that puzzled +me beyond expression. He was going out of Mr. Grainger's office that +morning, he said, with a bundle of letters which he was to answer, when +his master observed, casually: + +"The young lady of whom you spoke to me as qualified to take Miss +Davis's place is at the Hotel Mary Chilton. Go and see her and get her +opinion as to accepting the job!" + +I was what the French call _atterree_--knocked flat. + +"But how on earth could he know?" + +Larry Strangways laughed. + +"Oh, don't ask me. He knows anything he wants to know. He's got the +flair of a detective. I don't try to fathom him. But the point is that +the position is there for you to take or to leave." + +I tried to bring my mind back from the fact that this important man, a +total stranger to me, was in some way interested in my destiny. + +"What can I do but leave it, when I know no more about it than I do of +sailing a ship?" + +"Oh yes, you do. You know what books are, and you know what rare books +are. For the rest, all you'd have to do would be to consult the +catalogue. I don't know what the duties are; but if Miss Davis is up to +them I guess you would be, too. She's a sweet, pretty kitten of a +thing--daughter of one of Stacy Grainger's old pals who came to +grief--but I don't believe she knows much more about a book than the +cover from the print. Anyhow, I've given you the message with neither +more nor less than he said. Look here!" he exclaimed, suddenly. "Why +shouldn't you put on your hat and walk down the street with me, so that +I could show you where the library is? It's not ten minutes away. I've +never been inside it, but every one knows what it looks like." + +Consulting my wrist-watch, I objected that it was but twenty minutes to +the time when Hugh was due to come and take me to walk in Central Park, +returning to the hotel to tea. + +"Oh, let him go to the deuce! We can be there and back in twenty +minutes, and you can leave a message for him at the office." + +So we started. The Mary Chilton is in one of the cross-streets between +Fifth and Sixth Avenues. I discovered that Stacy Grainger's house was on +the corner of Fifth Avenue and a corresponding cross-street a little +farther down-town. It is a big brownstone house, in the eighteen-seventy +style, of the type which all round it has been turned into offices and +shops. All its many windows were blinded in a yellowish holland staff, +giving to the whole building an aspect sealed and dead. + +I shuddered. + +"I hope I shouldn't have to work there." + +"No. The house has been shut up for years." He named the hotel +overlooking the Park at which Stacy Grainger actually lived. "Anybody +else would have sold the place; but he has a lot of queer sentiment +about him. Of the two or three devotions in his life one of the most +intense is to his father's memory. I believe the old fellow committed +suicide in that house, and the son hallows it as he would a grave." + +"Cheerful!" + +"Oh, cheerful isn't the word one would associate with him first--" + +"Or last, apparently." + +"No, or last; but he's got other qualities to which cheerfulness is as +small change to gold. All I want you to see is that he keeps this +property, which is worth half a million at the least, from motives which +the immense majority wouldn't understand. It gives you a clue to the +man." + +"But what I want," I said, with nervous flippancy, for I was afraid of +meeting Hugh, "is a clue to the library." + +"There it is." + +"That?" + +He had pointed to a small, low, rectangular building I had seen a +hundred times, without the curiosity to wonder what it was. It stood +behind the house, in the center of a grass-plot, and was approached from +the cross-street, through a small wrought-iron gate. Built of +brownstone, without a window, and with no other ornament than a frieze +in relief below the eave, it suggested a tomb. At the back was a kind of +covered cloister connecting with the house. + +"If I had to sit in there all day," I commented, as we turned back +toward the hotel, "I should feel as if I were buried alive. I know that +strange things would happen to me!" + +"Oh no, they wouldn't. It's sure to be all right or a pretty little +thing like Miss Davis couldn't have stood it for three years. It's +lighted from the top, and there are a lot of fine things scattered +about." + +He gave me a brief history of how the collection had been formed. The +elder Grainger on coming to New York had bought up the contents of two +or three great European sales _en bloc_. He knew little about the +objects he had thus acquired, and cared less. His motive was simply that +of the rich American to play the nobleman. + +He was still talking of this when Hugh passed us and turned round. +Between the two men there was a stiff form of greeting. That is, it was +stiff on Larry Strangways's side, while on Hugh's it was the nearest +thing to no greeting at all. I could see he considered the tutor of his +sister's son beneath him. + +"What the devil were you walking with that fellow for?" he asked, after +Mr. Strangways had left us and while we were continuing our way up-town. +He spoke, wonderingly rather than impatiently. + +"Because he had come from a gentleman who had offered me employment. I +had just gone down with him to look at the outside of the house." + +I could hardly be surprised that Hugh should stop abruptly, forcing the +stream of foot-passengers to divide into two currents about us. + +"The impertinent bounder! Offer employment--to you--my--my wife!" + +I walked on with dignity. + +"You mustn't call me that, Hugh. It's a word only to be used in its +exact signification." He began to apologize, but I interrupted. "I'm not +only not your wife, but as yet I haven't even promised to marry you. We +must keep that fact unmistakably clear before us. It will prevent +possible complications in the end." + +He spoke humbly: + +"What sort of complications?" + +"I don't know; but I can see they might arise. And as for the matter of +employment, I must have it for a lot of reasons." + +"I don't see that. Give me two or three months, Alix!" + +"But it's precisely during those two or three months, Hugh, that I +should be left high and dry. Unless I have something to do I have no +motive for staying here in New York." + +"What about me?" + +"I can't stay just to see you. That's the difference between a woman and +a man. The situation is awkward enough as it is; but if I were to go on +living here for two or three months, merely for the sake of having a few +hours every day with you--" + +Before we reached the Park he saw the justice of my argument. +Remembering what Larry Strangways had once said as to Hugh's belief that +he was stooping to pick his diamond out of the mire, I reasoned that +since he was marrying a working-girl it would best preserve the +decencies if the working-girl were working. For this procedure Hugh +himself was able to establish precedent, since we were in sight of the +very hotel where Libby Jaynes had rubbed men's nails up to within an +hour or two of her marriage to Tracy Allen. He pointed it out as if it +was an historic monument, and in the same spirit I gazed at it. + +That matter settled, I attacked another as we advanced farther into the +Park. + +"And Mr. Strangways is not a bounder, Hugh, darling. I wish you wouldn't +call him that." + +His response was sufficiently good-natured, but it expressed that +Brokenshire disdain for everything that didn't have money which +specially enraged me. + +"Well, I won't," he conceded. "I don't care a hang what he is." + +"I do," I declared, with some tartness. "I care that he's a gentleman +and that he's treated as one." + +"Oh, every one's a gentleman." + +"No, Hugh, every one isn't. I know men right here in New York who could +buy and sell Mr. Strangways a thousand times, perhaps a million times +over, and who wouldn't be worthy to valet him." + +His small wide-apart blue eyes were turned on me questioningly. + +"You don't know many men right here in New York. Who do you mean?" + +I saw that he had me there and, not wishing to be driven into a corner, +I beat a shuffling retreat. + +"I don't mean any one in particular. I'm speaking in general." As we had +reached an empty bench and the afternoon was hot, I suggested that we +sit down. + +We had been silent a little while, when he asked the question I had been +expecting. + +"Who was the person who offered you the--the--" I saw how he hated the +word--"the employment?" + +I had already decided to betray no knowledge of matters which didn't +concern me. + +"It's a Mr. Grainger," I said, as casually as I could. + +As he sat close to me I could feel him start. + +"Not Stacy Grainger?" + +I maintained my tone of indifference. + +"I think that is his name. Do you know him? He seems to be some one of +importance." + +"Oh, he is." + +"Mr. Strangways has gone to him as secretary and, I suppose, knowing +that I was out of a situation, he must have mentioned me." + +"For what?" + +"As I understand it, it's librarian. It seems that this Mr. Grainger has +quite a collection--" + +"Oh yes, I know." As he remained silent for some time I waited for him +to raise objections, but he only said at last: "In that case you +wouldn't have much to do with him. He's never there." + +"No, I fancy not," I hastened to agree, and Hugh said no more. + +He said no more, but I could see that it was because he was wrestling +with a subject of which he couldn't perceive the bearings. As far as I +was concerned he plainly considered it wise not to tell me that which, +as a stranger and a foreigner, I wouldn't be likely to know. He +consequently dropped the topic, and when he talked again it was of +trivial things. + +A half-hour later, as we were on our way homeward, he exclaimed, +suddenly, and apropos of nothing at all: + +"Little Alix, if you were to love anybody else I'd--I'd shoot myself." + +His innocent, boyish, inexperienced face wore such a look of misery that +I laughed. I laughed to conceal the fact that I was near to crying. + +"Oh no, you wouldn't, Hugh. Besides, you don't see any likelihood of my +doing it." + +"I'm not so sure about that," he grumbled. + +"Well, I am, Hugh, dear." I laughed again. "I've no intention of loving +any one else--till I've settled my account with your father." + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + +Nearly a week later, in the middle of a hot afternoon, I came back from +some shopping to wait for Hugh at the hotel. Though it was a half-hour +before I expected him, I was too tired to go up-stairs and so went +directly to the reception-room. It was not only cool and restful there, +but after the glare of the streets outside, it was so dim that I took +the place to be empty. Having gone to a mirror for a moment to +straighten my hat and smooth the wayward tendrils of my hair, so that I +shouldn't look disheveled when Hugh arrived, I threw myself into an +arm-chair. + +I remember that my attitude was anything but graceful, and that I +sighed. I sighed more than once and somewhat loudly. I was depressed, +and as usual when depressed I felt small and desolate. It would have +been a relief to cry; but I couldn't cry when I was expecting Hugh. I +could only toss about in my big chair and give utterance to my pent-up +heart a little too explosively. + +It was five or six days since Larry Strangways's call, and no real +development of my blind alley was in sight. He had not returned, nor had +I heard from him. On the previous evening Hugh had said, "I thought +nothing would come of that," in a tone which carried conviction. It +wasn't that I was eager to be Stacy Grainger's librarian; it was only +that I wanted something to happen, something that would justify my +staying in New York. August had passed, and with the coming in of +September I saw the stirring of a new life in the streets; but there was +no new life for me. + +Nor, for the matter of that, did I see any new life for Hugh. He had +entered now on that stage of waiting on the postman which a good many +people have found sickening. Bankers and brokers having promised to +write when they knew of anything to suit him, he was expecting a summons +by every delivery of letters. On his dear face I began to read the +evidence of hope deferred. He was cheery enough; he could find fifty +explanations to account for the fact that he hadn't yet been called; but +brave words couldn't counteract the look of disquietude that was +creeping day by day into his kindly eyes. On the previous evening he had +informed me, too, that he had left his club and installed himself in a +small hotel, not far from my own neighborhood. When I asked him why he +had done that he said it was "to get away from a lot of the fellows who +were always chewing the rag," but I suspected the motive of economy. For +the motive of economy I should have had nothing but respect, if it +hadn't been so incongruous with everything I had known of him. + +It was probably because my eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom in the +reception-room that I noticed, suddenly, two other eyes. They were in a +distant corner and seemed to be looking at me with the detached and +burning stare of motor-lamps at night. For a minute I could discern no +personality, the eyes themselves were so lustrous. + +I was about to be frightened when a man arose and restlessly moved +toward the chimneypiece, not because there was anything there he desired +to see, but because he couldn't continue to sit still. He was a striking +figure, tall, spare, large-boned and powerful. The face was of the type +which for want of a better word I can only speak of as masculine. It was +long and lean and strong; if it was handsome it was only because every +feature and line was cut to the same large pattern as the frame. +Sweeping mustaches, of the kind school-girls are commonly supposed to +love, concealed a mouth which I could have wagered would be hard, while +the luminosity of the gaze suggested a rather hungry set of human +qualities and passions. + +We were now two restless persons instead of one, and I was about to +leave the room when a page came in. + +"Sorry, sir," said the honest-faced little boy, with an amusingly +uncouth accent I find it impossible to transcribe, "but number +four-twenty-three ain't in, so I guess she must be out." + +Startled, I rose to my feet. + +"But I'm number four-twenty-three." + +The boy turned toward me nonchalantly. + +"Didn't know you was here! That gentleman wants you." + +With this introduction he dashed away, and I was once more conscious of +the luminous eyes bent upon me. The tall figure, too, advanced a few +paces in my direction. + +"I asked for Miss Adare." The voice was deep and grave and harsh and +musical all at once. + +"That's my name." + +"Mine's Grainger." + +I gasped silently, like a dying fish, before I could stammer the +words-- + +"Won't you sit down?" + +As he seated himself near me and in a good light, I saw that his skin +was tanned, as if he lived on the sea or in the open air. I learned +later from Larry Strangways that he had just come from a summer's +yachting. His gaze studied me--not as a man studies a woman, but as a +workman inspects a tool. + +"You probably know my errand." + +"Mr. Strangways--" + +"Yes, I told him to sound you." + +"But I'm afraid I wouldn't do." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"Because I don't know anything about the work." + +"There's no work to know anything about. All you'd have to do would be +to sit still. You'd never have more than two or three visitors in a +day--and most days none at all." + +"But what should I do when visitors came?" + +"Show them what they asked to see. You'd find that in the catalogue. +You'd soon get the hang of the place. It's small. There's not much in it +when you come to sum it up. Miss Davis will show you the ropes before +she leaves on the first of October. I'll give you the same salary I've +been paying her." + +He named a sum the munificence of which almost took my breath away. + +"Oh, but I shouldn't be worth that." + +"It's the salary," he said, briefly, as he rose. "You can arrange with +my secretary, Strangways, when you would like to begin. The sooner the +better, as I understand that Miss Davis would like to get off." + +He was on his way to the door when, thinking of the tomb-like aspect of +the place, I asked, desperately: + +"Should I be all alone?" + +He turned. + +"There's a man and his wife in the house. One of them would be always +within call. The woman will bring you tea at half past four." + +I could hardly believe my ears. I had never heard of such solicitude. +"But I shouldn't need tea!" I began to assure him. + +He paused for a moment, looking at me searchingly. + +"You'll have callers--" + +"Oh no, I sha'n't." + +"You'll have callers," he repeated, as if I hadn't spoken, "and there'll +be tea every day at four-thirty." + +He was gone before I could protest further, or ask any more questions. + +Hugh's explanation, when I laid the matter before him, was that Mr. +Grainger was trying to play into the hands of that fellow, Strangways. + +"But why?" I demanded. + +"He thinks there's something between him and you." + +"But there isn't." + +"I should hope not; but, evidently, Strangways has made him think--" + +"Oh no, he hasn't, Hugh. Mr. Strangways is not that kind of man. Mr. +Grainger has some other reason for wanting me there, but I can't think +what it is." + +"Then I shouldn't go till I knew," Hugh counseled, moodily. + +But I did. I went the next week. Larry Strangways made the arrangements, +and, after a fortnight under Miss Davis's instructions, I found myself +alone. + +It was not so trying as I feared, though it was monotonous. It was +monotonous because there was so little to do. I was there each morning +at half past nine. From one to two I had an hour for lunch. At six I +came away. On Saturdays I had the afternoon. It was a little like being +a prisoner, but a prisoner in a palace, a prisoner who is well paid. + +The place consisted of one big, handsome room, some sixty feet by +thirty, resembling the libraries of great houses I had seen abroad. That +in this case it was detached from the dwelling was, I suppose, a matter +of architectural convenience. Book-shelves lined the walls right up to +the cornice. The dull reds and browns and blues and greens of the +bindings carried out the mellow effects of the Oriental rugs on the +floor. Under the shelves there were cupboards, some of them empty, +others stocked with portfolios of prints, European and Japanese. There +were no pictures, but a few large pieces of old porcelain and faience, +Persian, Spanish, and Chinese, stood on the mantelpiece and tables. For +the rest, the furnishings consisted of a bust or two, a desk or two, and +some decorative tables and chairs. + +My chief objection to the life was its seeming pointlessness. I was hard +at work doing nothing. The number of visitors was negligible. Once +during the autumn an old gentleman brought some engravings to compare +with similar examples in Mr. Grainger's collection; once a lady student +of Shakespeare came to examine his early editions; perhaps as often as +twice a week some wandering tourist in New York would enter and stare +vacantly, and go as he arrived. To while away the time I read and wrote +and did knitting and fancy-work, and at half past four every day, as +regularly as the hands of the clock came round, I solemnly had my tea. +It was very good tea, with cake and bread and butter in the orthodox +style, and was brought by Mrs. Daly, the motherly old Irish caretaker of +the house, who stumped in and stumped out, giving me, while she stayed, +a good deal of detail as to her "sky-attic" nerves and swollen +"varikiss" veins. + +I am bound to admit that the tea ceremony oppressed me--not that I +didn't enjoy it in its way but because its generosity seemed overdone. +It was not in the necessities of the case; it was, above all, not +American. On both the occasions when Mr. Grainger honored the library +with a call I tried to screw up my courage to ask him to let me off this +hospitality, but I couldn't reach the point. I was not so much afraid of +him as I was overawed. He was perfectly civil; he never treated me as +the dust beneath his feet, like Howard Brokenshire; but any one could +see that he was immensely and perhaps tragically preoccupied. + +I was having tea all alone on a cold afternoon in November, when the +sound of the opening of the outer door attracted my attention. At first +one came into a vestibule from which there was no entrance, till on my +side I touched the spring of a closed wrought-iron grille. I had gone +forward to see who was there and, if necessary, give the further +admission, when to my astonishment I saw Mrs. Brokenshire. + +She was in a walking-dress with furs. The color in her cheeks might have +been due to the cold wind, but the light in her eyes was that of +excitement. + +"I heard you were here," she whispered, as she fluttered in, "and I've +come to see you." + +My sense of the imprudence of this step was such that I could hardly +welcome her. That feeling of protection which I had once before on her +behalf came back to me. + +"Who told you?" I asked, as soon as she was seated and I was pouring her +out a cup of tea. For the first time since taking the position I was +glad the ceremony had not been suppressed. + +She answered, while glancing into the shadows about her. + +"Mildred told me. Hugh wrote it to her. He does write to her, you know. +She's the only one with whom he is still in communication. She seems to +think the poor boy is in trouble. I came to--to see if there was +anything I could do." + +I told her I was living at the Hotel Mary Chilton and that, if necessary +at any time, she could see me there. + +She repeated the address, but I knew it took no hold on her memory. + +"Ah yes; the Hotel Mary Chilton. I think I've heard of it. But I haven't +many minutes, and you must tell me all you can about dear Hugh." + +As my anxiety on Hugh's account was deepening, I was the more eager to +do as I was bid. I said he had found no employment as yet, and that in +my opinion employment would be hard to secure. If he was willing to work +for a year or two for next to nothing, as he would consider the salary, +he might eventually learn the financial trade; but to expect that his +name would be a key to open the door of any bank at which he might +present himself was preposterous. I hadn't been able to convince him of +that, however, and he was still hoping. But he was hoping with a sad, +worried face that almost broke my heart. + +"And how is he off for money?" + +I said I thought his bank-account was running low. He made no complaint +of that to me, but I noticed that he rarely now went to any of his +clubs, and that he took his meals at the more inexpensive places. In +taxis, too, he was careful, and in tickets for the theater. These were +the signs by which I judged. + +Her eyes had the sweet mistiness I remembered from our last meeting. + +"I can let him have money--as much as he needs." + +I considered this. + +"But it would be Mr. Brokenshire's money, wouldn't it?" + +"It would be money Mr. Brokenshire gives me." + +"In that case I don't think Hugh could accept it. You see, he's trying +to make himself independent of his father, so as to do what his father +doesn't like." + +"But he can't starve." + +"He must either starve, or earn a living, or go back to his father +and--give up." + +"Does that mean that you won't marry him unless he has money of his +own?" + +"It means what I've said more than once before--that I can't marry him +if he has no money of his own, unless his family come and ask me to do +it." + +There was a little furrow between her brows. + +"Oh, well, they won't do that. I would," she hastened to add, +"because--" she smiled, like an angel--"because I believe in love; but +they wouldn't." + +"I think Mrs. Rossiter would," I argued, "if she was left free." + +"She might; and, of course, there's Mildred. She'd do anything for Hugh, +though she thinks . . . but neither Jack nor Pauline would give in; and +as for Mr. Brokenshire--I believe it would break his heart." + +"Why should he feel toward me like that?" I demanded, bitterly. "How am +I inferior to Pauline Gray, except that I have no money?" + +"Well, I suppose in a way that's it. It's what Mr. Brokenshire calls the +solidarity of aristocracies. They have to hold together." + +"But aristocracy and money aren't one." + +As she rose she smiled again, distantly and dreamily. "If you were an +American, dear Miss Adare, you'd know." + +Before she said good-by she looked deliberately about the room. It was +not the hasty inspection I should have expected; it was tranquil, and I +could even say that it was thorough. She made no mention of Mr. +Grainger, but I couldn't help thinking he was in her mind. + +At the door to which I accompanied her, however, her manner changed. +Before trusting herself to the few paces of walk running from the +entrance to the wrought-iron gate, she glanced up and down the street. +It was dark by this time, and the lamps were lit, but not till the +pavement was tolerably clear did she venture out. Even then she didn't +turn toward Fifth Avenue, which would have been her natural direction; +but rapidly and, as I imagined, furtively, she walked the other way. + +I mentioned to no one that she had come to see me. Her kind thought of +Hugh I was sorry to keep to myself; but I knew of no purpose to be +served in divulging it. With my maxim to guide me it was not difficult +to be sure that in this case right lay in silence. + +A few days later I got Hugh's doings from a new point of view. As I was +going back to my lunch at the hotel, Mrs. Rossiter called to me from her +motor and made me get in. The distance I had to cover being slight, she +drove me up to Central Park and back again to have the time to talk. + +"My dear, he's crazy. He's going round to all the offices that +practically turned him out six or eight weeks ago and begging them to +find a place for him. Two or three of papa's old friends have written to +ask what they could really do for him--for papa, that is--and he's sent +them word that he'd take it as a favor if they'd show Hugh to the door." + +"Of course, if his father makes himself his enemy--" + +"He only makes himself his enemy in order to be his friend, dear Miss +Adare. He's your friend, too, papa is, if you only saw it." + +"I'm afraid I don't," I said, dryly. + +"Oh, you will some day, and do him justice. He's the kindest man when +you let him have his own way." + +"Which would be to separate Hugh and me." + +"But you'd both get over that; and I know he'd do the handsome thing by +you, as well as by him." + +"So long as we do the handsome thing by each other--" + +"Oh, well, you can see where that leads to. Hugh'll never be in a +position to marry you, dear Miss Adare." + +"He will when your father comes round." + +"Nonsense, my dear! You know you're not looking forward to that, not any +more than I am." + +Later, as I was getting out at my door, she said, as if it was an +afterthought: + +"Oh, by the way, you know papa has made me write to Lady Cissie +Boscobel?" + +I looked up at her from the pavement. + +"What for?" + +"To ask her to come over and spend a month or two in New York. She says +she will if she can. She's a good deal of a girl, Cissie is. If you're +going to keep your hold on Hugh-- Well, all I can say is that Cissie +will give you a run for your money. Of course, it's nothing to me. I +only thought I'd tell you." + +This, too, I kept from Hugh; but I seized an early opportunity to paint +the portrait of the imaginary charming girl he could have for a wife, +with plenty of money to support himself and her, if he would only give +me up. This was as we walked home one night from the theater--I was +obliged from time to time to let him take me so that we might have a +pretext for being together--and we strolled in the shadows of the narrow +cross-streets. + +"Little Alix," he declared, fervently, "I could no more give you up than +I could give up my breath or my blood. You're part of me. You're the +most vital part of me. If you were to fail me I should die. If I were to +fail you--But that's not worth thinking of. Look here!" He paused in a +dark spot beside a great silent warehouse. "Look here. I'm having a +pretty tough time. I'll confess it. I didn't mean to tell you, but I +will. When I go to see certain people now--men I've met dozens of times +at my father's table--what do you think happens? They have me shown to +the door, and not too politely. These are the chaps who two months ago +were squirming for joy at the thought of getting me. What do you think +of that? How do you suppose it makes me feel?" I was about to break in +with some indignant response when he continued, placidly: "Well, it all +turns to music the minute I think of you. It's as if I'd drunk some +glowing cordial. I'm kicked out, let us say--and it's not too much to +say--and I'm ready to curse for all I'm worth, but I think of you. I +remember I'm doing it for you and bearing it for you, so that one day I +may strike the right thing and we may be together and happy forever +afterward, and I swear to you it's as if angels were singing in the +sky." + +I had to let him kiss me there in the shadow of the street, as if we +were a footman and a housemaid. I had to let him kiss away my tears and +soothe me and console me. I told him I wasn't worthy of such love, and +that, if he would consider the fitness of things, he would go away and +leave me, but he only kissed me the more. + +Again I was having my tea. It had been a lifeless day, and I was +wondering how long I could endure the lifelessness. Not a soul had come +near the place since morning, and my only approach to human intercourse +had been in discussing Mrs. Daly's "varikiss" veins. Even that interlude +was over, for the lady would not return for the tea things till after my +departure. I was so lonely--I felt the uselessness of what I was doing +so acutely--that in spite of the easy work and generous pay I was +thinking of sending my resignation in to Mr. Grainger and looking for +something else. + +The outer door opened swiftly and silently, and I knew some one was +inside. I knew, too, before rising from my place, that it was Mrs. +Brokenshire. Subconsciously I had been expecting her, though I couldn't +have said why. Her lovely face was all asparkle. + +"I've come to see you again," she whispered, as I let her in. "I hope +you're alone." + +I replied that I was and, choosing my words carefully, I said it was +kind of her to keep me in mind. + +"Oh yes, I keep you in mind, and I keep Hugh. What I've really come for +is to beg you to hand him the money of which I spoke the other day." + +She seated herself, but not before glancing about the room, either +expectantly or fearfully. As I poured out her tea I repeated what I had +said already on the subject of the money. She wasn't listening, however. +When she made replies they were not to the point. All the while she +sipped her tea and nibbled her cake her eyes had the shifting alertness +of a watchful little bird's. + +"Oh, but what does it all matter when it's a question of love?" she +said, somewhat at a venture. "Love is the only thing, don't you think? +It must make its opportunities as it can." + +"You mean that love can be--unscrupulous?" + +"Oh, I shouldn't use that word." + +"It isn't the word I'm thinking of. It's the act." + +"Love is like war, isn't it? All's fair!" + +"But is it?" + +Her eyes rested on mine, not boldly, but with a certain daring. + +"Why--yes." + +"You believe that?" + +She still kept her eyes on mine. Her tone was that of a challenge. + +"Why--yes." She added, perhaps defiantly, "Don't you?" + +I said, decidedly: + +"No, I don't." + +"Then you don't love. You can't love. Love is reckless. Love--" There +was a long pause before she dropped the two concluding words, spacing +them apart as if to emphasize her deliberation. "Love--risks--all." + +"If it risks all it may lose all." + +The challenge was renewed. + +"Well? Isn't that better than--?" + +"It's not better than doing right," I hastened to say, "however hard it +may be." + +"Ah, but what is right? A thing can't be right if--if--" she sought for +a word--"if it's killing you." + +As she said this there was a sound along the corridor leading from the +house. I thought Mrs. Daly had forgotten something and was coming back. +But the tread was different from her slow stump, and my sense of a +danger at hand was such as the good woman never inspired. + +Mrs. Brokenshire made no attempt to play a part or to put me off the +scent. She acted as if I understood what was happening. Her teacup +resting in her lap, she sat with eyes aglow and lips slightly apart in +a look of heavenly expectation. I could hardly believe her to be the +dazed, stricken little creature I had seen three months ago. As the +footsteps approached she murmured, "He's coming!" or, "Who's coming?" I +couldn't be sure which. + +Mr. Grainger entered like a man who is on his own ground and knows what +he is about to find. There was no uncertainty in his manner and no +apparent sense of secrecy. His head was high and his walk firm as he +pushed his way amid tables and chairs to where we were sitting in the +glow of a shaded light. + +I stood up as he approached, but I had time to appraise my situation. I +saw all its little mysteries illumined as by a flash. I saw why Stacy +Grainger had kept track of me; I saw why, in spite of my deficiencies, +he had taken me on as his librarian; but I saw, too, that the Lord had +delivered J. Howard Brokenshire into my hands, as Sisera into those of +Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + +I was relieved of some of my embarrassment by the fact that Mr. Grainger +took command. + +Having bowed over Mrs. Brokenshire's hand with an empressement he made +no attempt to conceal, he murmured the words, "I'm delighted to see you +again." After this greeting, which might have been commonplace and was +not, he turned to me. "Perhaps Miss Adare will give me some tea." + +I could carry out this request, listen to their scraps of conversation, +and think my own thoughts all at the same time. + +Thinking my own thoughts was the least easy of the three, for the reason +that thought stunned me. The facts knocked me on the head. Since before +my engagement as Mr. Grainger's librarian this situation had been +planned! Mrs. Brokenshire had chosen me for my part in it! She had given +Mr. Grainger my address, which she could have learned from her mother, +and recommended me as one with whom they would be safe! + +Their talk was only of superficial things; but it was not the clue to +their emotions. That was in the way they talked--haltingly, falteringly, +with glances that met and shifted and fell, or that rested on each other +with long, mute looks, and then turned away hurriedly, as if something +in the spirit reeled. As she gave him bits of information concerning +the summer at Newport, she stumbled in her words, because there was no +correlation between the sentences she formed and her fundamental +thought. The same was true of his account of yachting on the coast of +Maine, of Gloucester, Islesboro, and Bar Harbor. He stuttered and +stammered and repeated himself. It was like one of those old Italian +duets in which stupid words are sung to a passionate, heartbreaking +melody. Nevertheless, I had enough sympathy with love, even with a +guilty love, to have some mercy in my judgments. + +Not that I believed it to be a guilty love--as yet. That, too, I was +obliged to think over and form my opinion about it. It was not a guilty +love as yet; but it might easily become a guilty love. I remembered that +Larry Strangways, with all his admiration for his employer, had refused +him a place in his list of whole-hearted, clean-hearted men because he +had a weakness; and I reflected that on the part of Mrs. Billing's +daughter there might be no rigorous concept of the moralities. What I +saw, therefore, was a man and a woman so consumed with longing for each +other that guilt would be chiefly a matter of opportunity. To create +that opportunity I had been brought upon the scene. + +[Illustration: I SAW A MAN AND A WOMAN CONSUMED WITH LONGING FOR EACH +OTHER] + +I could see, of course, how admirably I was suited to the purpose I was +meant to serve. In the first place, I was young, and might but dimly +perceive--might not perceive at all--what was being done with me. In the +next place, I was presumably too inexperienced to take a line of my own +even if I suspected what was not for me to know. Then, I was poor and a +stranger, and too glad of the easy work for which I was liberally paid +not to be willing to take its bitter with its sweet. Lastly, I, too, +was in love; and I, too, was a victim of Howard Brokenshire. If I +couldn't approve of what I might see and hear, at least I might be +reckoned on not to speak of it. Once more I was made to feel that, +though I might play a subordinate role of some importance, my own wishes +and personality didn't count. + +It was obviously a minute at which to bring my maxim into operation. I +had to do what was Right--with a capital. For that I must wait for +inspiration, and presently I got it. + +That is, I got it by degrees. I got it first by noting in a puzzled way +the glances which both my companions sent in my direction. They were +sidelong glances, singularly alike, whether they came from Stacy +Grainger's melancholy brown eyes or Mrs. Brokenshire's sweet, misty +ones. They were timid glances, pleading, uneasy. They asked what words +wouldn't dare to ask, and what I was too dense to understand. I sat +sipping my tea, running hot and cold as the odiousness of my position +struck me from the various points of view; but I made no attempt to +move. + +They were still talking of people of whom I knew nothing, but talking +brokenly, futilely, for the sake of hearing each other's voice, and yet +stifling the things which it would have been fatal to them both to say, +when Mr. Grainger got up and brought me his cup. + +"May I have another?" + +I looked up to take the cup, but he held it in his hands. He held it in +his hands and gazed down at me. He gazed down at me with an expression +such as I have never seen in any eyes but a dog's. As I write I blush to +remember that, with such a mingling of hints and entreaties and +commands, I didn't know what he was trying to convey to me. I took the +cup, poured out his tea, handed the cup back to him--and sat. + +But after he had reached his seat the truth flashed on me. I was in the +way; I was _de trop_. I had done part of my work in being the pretext +for Mrs. Brokenshire's visit; now I ought, tactfully, to absent myself. +I needn't go far; I needn't go for long. There was an alcove at the end +of the room where one could be out of sight; there was also the corridor +leading to the house. I could easily make an excuse; I could get up and +move without an excuse of any kind. But I sat. + +I hated myself; I despised myself; but I sat. I drank my tea without +knowing it; I ate my cake without tasting it--and I sat. + +The talk between my companions grew more fitful. Silence was easier for +them--silence and that dumb interchange of looks which had the sympathy +of something within myself. I knew that in their eyes I was a nuisance, +a thing to be got rid of. I was so in my own--but I went on eating and +drinking stolidly--and sat. + +It was in my mind that this was my chance to be avenged on Howard +Brokenshire; but I didn't want my vengeance that way. I have to confess +that I was so poor-spirited as to have little or no animosity against +him. I could see how easy it was for him to think of me as an +adventuress. I wanted to convince and convert him, but not to make him +suffer. If in any sense I could be called the guardian of his interests +I would rather have been true to the trust than not. As I sat, +therefore, gulping down my tea as if I relished it, it was partly +because of my protective instinct toward the exquisite creature before +me who might not know how to protect herself--and partly because I +couldn't help it. Mr. Grainger could order me to go, but until he did I +meant to go on eating. + +Probably because of the insistence of my presence Mrs. Brokenshire felt +obliged to begin to talk again. I did my best not to listen, but +fragments of her sentences came to me. + +"My mother spent a few weeks with us in August. I--I don't think she +and--and Mr. Brokenshire get on so well." + +Almost for the first time he was interested in what she said rather than +in her. + +"What's the trouble?" + +"Oh, I don't know--the whole thing." A long pause ensued, during which +their eyes rested on each other in mute questioning. "She's changed, +mamma is." + +"Changed in what way?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I--I suppose she sees that she--she--miscalculated." + +It was his turn to ruminate silently, and when he spoke at last it was +as if throwing up to the surface but one of a deep undercurrent of +thoughts. + +"After the pounding I got three years ago she didn't believe I'd come +back." + +She accepted this without comment. Before speaking again she sent me +another of her frightened, pleading looks. + +"She always liked you better than any one else." + +He seconded the glance in my direction as he said, with a grim smile: + +"Which didn't prevent her going to the highest bidder." + +She colored and sighed. + +"You wouldn't be so hard on her if you knew what a fight she had to make +during papa's lifetime. We were always in debt. You knew that, didn't +you? Poor mamma used to say she'd save me from that if she never--" + +I lost the rest of the sentence by deliberately rattling the tea things +in pouring myself a third or a fourth cup of tea. Nothing but +disconnected words reached me after that, but I caught the name of +Madeline Pyne. I knew who she was, having heard her story day by day as +it unfolded itself during my first weeks with Mrs. Rossiter. It was a +simple tale as tales go in the twentieth century. Mrs. Pyre had been +Mrs. Grimshaw. While she was Mrs. Grimshaw she had spent three days at a +seaside resort with Mr. Pyne. The law having been invoked, she had +changed her residence from the house of Mr. Grimshaw in Seventy-fifth +Street to that of Mr. Pyne in Seventy-seventh Street, and likewise +changed her name. Only a very discerning eye could now have told that in +the opinion of society there was a difference between her and Caesar's +wife. The drama was sufficiently recent to make the topic a natural one +for an interchange of confidences. That confidences were being +interchanged I could see; that from those confidences certain +terrifying, passionate deductions were being drawn silently I could also +see. I could see without hearing; I didn't need to hear. I could tell by +her pallor and his embarrassment how each read the mind of the other, +how each was tempted and how each recoiled. I knew that neither pointed +the moral of the parable, for the reason that it stared them in the +face. + +Because that subject, too, was exhausted, or because they had come to a +place where they could say no more, they sat silent again. They looked +at each other; they looked at me; neither would take the responsibility +of giving me a further hint to go. Much as they desired my going, I was +sure they were both afraid of it. I might be a nuisance and yet I was a +safeguard. They were too near the brink of danger not to feel that, +after all, there was something in having the safeguard there. + +A few minutes later Mrs. Brokenshire flew to shelter herself behind this +protection. She fluttered softly to my side, beginning again to talk of +Hugh. Knowing by this time that her interest in him was only a blind for +her frightened essays in passion, I took up the subject but +half-heartedly. + +"I've the money here," she confided to me, "if you'll only take charge +of it." + +When I had declined to do this, for the reasons I had already given, her +face brightened. + +"Then we can talk it over again." She rose as she spoke. "I can't stay +any longer now--but we'll talk it over again. Let me see! This is +Tuesday. If I came--" + +"I'm always at the Hotel Mary Chilton after six," I said, significantly. + +I smiled inwardly at the way in which she took this information. + +"Oh, I'll come before that--and I sha'n't keep you--just to talk about +Hugh--and see he won't take the money--perhaps on--on Thursday." + +As nominally she had come to see me, nominally it was my place to +accompany her to the door. In this at least I got my cue, walking the +few paces with her, while she held my hand. I gathered that, the minutes +of temptation being past, she bore me some gratitude for having helped +her over them. At any rate, she pressed my fingers and gave me wistful, +teary smiles, till at last she was out in the lighted street and I had +closed the door behind her. + +It was only half past five, and I had still thirty minutes to fill in. +As I turned back into the room I found Mr. Grainger walking aimlessly up +and down, inspecting a bit of lustrous faience or the backs of a row of +books, and making me feel that there was something he wished to say. His +movements were exactly those of a man screwing up his courage or trying +to find words. + +The simplest thing I could do was to sit down at my desk and make a +feint at writing. I seemed to be ignoring my employer's presence, but in +reality, as I watched him from under my lids, I was getting a better +impression of him than on any previous occasion. + +There was nothing Olympian about him as there was about Howard +Brokenshire. He was too young to be Olympian, being not more than +thirty-eight. He struck me, indeed, as just a big, sinewy man of the +type which fights and hunts and races and loves, and has dumb, +uncomprehended longings which none of these pursuits can satisfy. In +this he was English more than American, and Scottish more than English. +He was certainly not the American business man as seen in hotel lobbies +and on the stage. He might have been classed as the American +romantic--an explorer, a missionary, or a shooter of big game, according +to taste and income. Larry Strangways said that among Americans you most +frequently met his like in East Africa, Manchuria, or Brazil. That he +was in business in New York was an accident of tradition and +inheritance. Just as an Englishman who might have been a soldier or a +solicitor is a country gentleman because his father has left him landed +estates, so Stacy Grainger had become a financier. + +As a financier, I understood he helped to furnish the money in +undertakings in which other men did the work. In this respect the +direction his interests took was what might have been expected of so +virile a character--steel, iron, gunpowder, shells, the founding of +cannon, the building of war-ships; the forceful, the destructive. I +gathered from Mr. Strangways that he was forever making journeys to +Washington, to Pittsburg, to Cape Breton, wherever money could be +invested in mighty conquering things. It was these projects that Howard +Brokenshire had attacked so savagely as almost to bring him to ruin, +though he had now re-established himself as strongly as before. + +Being as terrified of him as of his rival, I prayed inwardly that he +would go away. Once or twice in marching up and down he paused before my +desk, and the pen almost dropped from my hand. I knew he was trying to +formulate a hint that when Mrs. Brokenshire came again--But even on my +part the thought would not go into words. Words made it gross, and it +was what he must have discovered each time he approached me. Each time +he approached me I fancied that his poetic eye grew apologetic, that his +shoulders sagged, and that his hard, strong mouth became weak before +syllables that would not pass the lips. Then he would veer away, +searching doubtless some easier phrase, some more delicate suggestion, +only to fail again. + +It was a relief when, after a last attempt, he passed into the corridor +leading to the house. I could breathe, I could think; I could look back +over the last half-hour and examine my conduct. I was not satisfied with +it, because I had frustrated love--even that kind of love; and yet I +asked myself how I could have acted differently. + +In substance I asked the same of Larry Strangways when he came to dine +with me next day. Hugh being in Philadelphia on one of his pathetic +cruises after work, I had invited Mr. Strangways by telephone, begging +him to come on the ground that, having got me into this trouble, he must +advise me as to getting out. + +"I didn't get you into the trouble," he smiled across the table. "I only +helped to get you the job." + +"But when you got me the job, as you call it--" + +"I knew you would be able to do the work." + +"And did you think the work would be--this?" + +"I couldn't tell anything about that. I simply knew you could do the +work--from all the points of view." + +"And do you think I've done it?" + +"I know you've done it. You couldn't do anything else. I won't go back +of that." + +If my heart gave a sudden leap at these words it was because of the +tone. It betrayed that quality behind the tone to which I had been +responding, and of which I had been afraid, ever since I knew the man. +By a great effort I kept my words on the casual, friendly plane, as I +said: + +"Your confidence is flattering, but it doesn't help me. What I want to +know is this: Assuming that they love each other, should I allow myself +to be used as the pretext for their meetings?" + +"Does it do you any harm?" + +"Does it do them any good?" + +"Couldn't you let that be their affair?" + +"How can I, when I'm dragged into it?" + +"If you're only dragged into it to the extent of this afternoon--" + +"Only! You can use that word of a situation--" + +"In which you played propriety." + +"Oh, it wasn't playing." + +"Yes, it was; it was playing the game--as they only play it who aren't +quitters but real sports." + +"But I'm not a sport. I've the quitter in me. I'm even thinking of +flinging up the position--" + +"And leaving them to their fate." + +I smiled. + +"Couldn't I let that be their affair?" + +He, too, smiled, his head thrown back, his white teeth gleaming. + +"You think you've caught me, don't you? But you've got the shoe on the +wrong foot. I said just now that it might be their affair as to whether +or not it did them any good to have you as the pretext of their +meetings; but it's surely your affair when you say they sha'n't. Their +meetings will be one thing so long as they have you; whereas without +you--" + +"Then you think they'll keep meeting in any case?" + +"I've nothing to say about that. I limit myself to believing that in any +situation that requires skilful handling your first name is +resourcefulness." + +I shifted my ground. + +"Oh, but when it's such an odious situation!" + +"No situation is odious in which you're a participant, just as no view +is ugly where there's a garden full of flowers." + +He went on with his dinner as complacently as if he had not thrown me +into a state of violent inward confusion. All I could do was to summon +Hugh's image from the shades of memory into which it had withdrawn, and +beg it to keep me true to him. The thought of being false to the man to +whom I had actually owned my love outraged in me every sentiment akin to +single-heartedness. In a kind of desperation I dragged Hugh's name into +the conversation, and yet in doing so I merely laid myself open to +another shock. + +"You can't be in love with him!" + +The words were the same as Mrs. Billing's; the emphasis was similar. + +"I am," I declared, bluntly, not so much to contradict the speaker as to +fortify myself. + +"You may think you are--" + +"Well, if I think I am, isn't it the same thing as--" + +"Lord, no! not with love! Love is the most deceptive of the emotions--to +people who haven't had much experience of its tricks." + +"Have you?" + +He met this frankly. + +"No; nor you. That's why you can so easily take yourself in." + +I grew cold and dignified. + +"If you think I'm taking myself in when I say that I'm in love with Hugh +Brokenshire--" + +"That's certainly it." + +Though I knew my cheeks were flaming a dahlia red, I forced myself to +look him in the eyes. + +"Then I'm afraid it would be useless to try to convince you--" + +He nodded. + +"Quite!" + +"So that we can only let the subject drop." + +He looked at me with mock gravity. + +"I don't see that. It's an interesting topic." + +"Possibly; but as it doesn't lead us any further--" + +"But it does. It leads us to where we see straighter." + +"Yes, but if I don't need to see straighter than I do?" + +"We all need to see as straight as we can." + +"I'm seeing as straight as I can when I say--" + +"Oh, but not as straight as I can! I can see that a noble character +doesn't always distinguish clearly between love and kindness, or between +kindness and loyalty, or between loyalty and self-sacrifice, and that +the higher the heart, the more likely it is to impose on itself. No one +is so easily deceived as to love and loving as the man or the woman +who's truly generous." + +"If I was truly generous--" + +"I know what you are," he said, shortly. + +"Then if you know what I am you must know, too, that I couldn't do other +than care for a man who's given up so much for my sake." + +"You couldn't do other than admire him. You couldn't do other than be +grateful to him. You probably couldn't do other than want to stand by +him through thick and thin--" + +"Well, then?" + +"But that's not love." + +"If it isn't love it's so near to it--" + +"Exactly--which is what I'm saying. It's so near it that you don't know +the difference, and won't know the difference till--till the real thing +affords you the contrast." + +I did my best to be scornful. + +"Really! You speak like an expert." + +"Yes; an expert by intuition." + +I was still scornful. + +"Only that?" + +"Only that. You see," he smiled, "the expert by experience has learnt a +little; but the expert by intuition knows it all." + +"Then, when I need information on the subject, I'll come to you." + +"And I'll promise to give it to you frankly." + +"Thanks," I said, sweetly. "But you'll wait till I come, won't you? And +in the mean time, you'll not say any more about it." + +"Does that mean that I'm not to say any more about it ever--or only for +to-night?" + +I knew, suddenly, what the question meant to me. I took time to see that +I was shutting a door which my heart cried out to have left open. But I +answered, still sweetly and with a smile: + +"Suppose we make it that you won't say any more about it--ever?" + +He gazed at me; I gazed at him. A long half-minute went by before he +uttered the words, very slowly and deliberately: + +"I won't say any more about it--for to-night." + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + +On Thursday Mr. Grainger came to the library to tea, but notwithstanding +her suggestion Mrs. Brokenshire did not. She came, however, on Friday +when he did not. For some time after that he came daily. + +Toward me his manner had little variation; he was courteous and distant. +I cannot say that he ever had tea with me, for even if he accepted a +cup, which he did from time to time, as if keeping up a role, he carried +it to some distant corner of the room where he was either examining the +objects or making their acquaintance. He came about half past four and +went about half past five, always appearing from the house and retiring +by the same way. In the house itself, as I understood from Mrs. Daly, he +displayed an interest he had not shown for years. + +"It's out of wan room and into another, and raisin' the shades and +pushin' the furniture about, till you'd swear he was goin' to be +married." + +I thought of Mr. Pyne, wondering if, before his trip to Atlantic City +with Mrs. Grimshaw, he, too, had wandered about his house, appraising +its possibilities from the point of view of a new mistress. + +On the Friday when Mrs. Brokenshire came and Mr. Grainger did not she +made no comment on his non-appearance. She even sustained with some +success the fiction that her visit was on my account. Only her soft +eyes turned with a quick light toward the door leading to the house at +every sound that might have been a footstep. + +When she talked it was chiefly about Mr. Brokenshire. + +"It's telling on him--all this trouble about Hugh." + +I was curious. + +"Telling on him in what way?" + +"It's made him older--and grayer--and the trouble with his eye comes +oftener." + +It seemed to me that I saw an opportunity. + +"Then why doesn't he give in?" + +"Give in? Mr. Brokenshire? Why, he never gave in in his life." + +"But if he suffers?" + +"He'd rather suffer than give in. He's not an unkind man, not really, so +long as he has his own way; but once he's thwarted--" + +"Every one has to be thwarted some time." + +"He'd agree to that; but he'd say every one but him. That's why, when he +first met--met me--and my mother at that time meant to have me--to have +me marry some one else-- You knew that, didn't you?" + +I reminded her that she had told me so among the rocks at Newport. + +"Did I? Perhaps I did. It's--it's rather on my mind. I had to change +so--so suddenly. But what I was going to say was that when Mr. +Brokenshire saw that mamma meant me to marry some one else, and that +I--that I wanted to, there was nothing he didn't do. It was in the +papers--and everything. But nothing would stop him till he'd got what he +wanted." + +I pumped up my courage to say: + +"You mean, till you gave it to him." + +She bit her lip. + +"Mamma gave it to him. I had to do as I was told. You'd say, I suppose, +that I needn't have done it, but you don't know." She hesitated before +going on. "It--it was money. We--we had to have it. Mamma thought that +Mr.--the man I was to have married first--would never have any more. It +was all sorts of things on the Stock Exchange--and bulls and bears and +things like that. There was a whole week of it--and every one knew it +was about me. I nearly died; but mamma didn't mind. She enjoyed it. It's +the sort of thing she would enjoy. She made me go with her to the opera +every night. Some one always asked us to sit in their box. She put me in +the front where the audience watched me through their opera-glasses more +than they did the stage--and I was a kind of spectacle. There was one +night--they were singing the 'Meistersinger'--when I felt just like Eva, +put up as a prize for whoever could win me. But I was talking of Mr. +Brokenshire, wasn't I? Do you think his eye will ever be any better?" + +She asked the question without change of tone. I could only reply that I +didn't know. + +"The doctor says--that is, he's told me--that in a way it's mental. It's +the result of the strain he's put upon his nerves by overwork and awful +tempers. Of course, his responsibilities have been heavy, though of late +years he's been able to shift some of them to other people's shoulders. +And then," she went on, in her sweet, even voice, "what happened about +me--coming to him so late in life--and--and tearing him to pieces more +violently than if he'd been a younger man--young men get over +things--that made it worse. Don't you see it would?" + +I said I could understand that that might be the effect. + +"Of course, if I could really be a wife to him--" + +"Well, can't you?" + +She shuddered. + +"He terrifies me. When he's there I'm not a woman any more; I'm a +captive." + +"But since you've married him--" + +"I didn't marry him; he married me. I was as much a bargain as if I had +been bought. And now mamma sees that--that she might have got a better +price." + +I thought it enough to say: + +"That must make it hard for her." + +A sigh bubbled up, like that of a child who has been crying. + +"It makes it hard for me." She eyed me with a long, oblique regard. +"Don't you think it's awful when an elderly man falls in love with a +young girl who herself is in love with some one else?" + +I could only dodge that question. + +"All unhappiness is awful." + +"Ah, but this! An elderly man!--in love! Madly in love! It's not +natural; it's frightful; and when it's with yourself--" + +She moved away from me and began to inspect the room. In spite of her +agitation she did this more in detail than when she had been there +before, making the round of the book-shelves much as Mr. Grainger +himself was in the habit of doing, and gazing without comment on the +Persian and Italian potteries. It was easy to place her as one of those +women who live surrounded by beautiful things to which they pay no +attention. Mr. Brokenshire's richly Italianate dwelling was to her just +a house. It would have been equally just a house had it been Jacobean or +Louis Quinze or in the fashion of the Brothers Adam, and she would have +seen little or no difference in periods and styles. The books she now +looked at were mere backs; they were bindings and titles. Since they +belonged to Stacy Grainger she could look at them with soft, unseeing +eyes, thinking of him. That was all. Without comment of my own I +accompanied her, watching the quick, bird-like turnings of her head +whenever she thought she heard a step. + +"It's nice for you here," she said, when at last she gave signs of +going. "I--I love it. It's so quiet--and--and safe. Nobody knows I come +to--to see you." + +Her stammering emboldened me to take a liberty. + +"But suppose they found out?" + +She was as innocent as a child as she glanced up at me and said: + +"It would still be to see you. There's no harm in that." + +"Even so, Mr. Brokenshire wouldn't approve of it." + +"But he'll never know. It's not the sort of thing any one would think +of. I leave the motor down at Sixth Avenue, and this time of year it's +so dark. As soon as I heard Miss Davis was leaving I thought how nice +the place would be for you." + +Since it was useless to make the obvious correction here, I thanked her +for her kindness, going on to add: + +"But I don't want to get into any trouble." + +"No, of course not." She began moving toward the door. "What kind of +trouble were you thinking of?" + +I wondered whether or not, having taken one liberty, I could take +another. + +"When I see my boat being caught in the rapids I'm afraid there's a +cataract ahead." + +It took her some thirty seconds to seize the force of this. Having got +it her eyes fell. + +"Oh, I see! And does that mean," she went on, her bosom heaving, "that +you're afraid of the cataract on your own account--or on mine?" + +I paused in our slow drifting toward the door. She was a great lady in +the land, and I was nobody. I had much to risk, and I risked it. + +"Should I offend you," I asked, deferentially, "if I said--on yours?" + +For an instant she became as haughty as so sweet a nature knew how to +be, but the prompting passed. + +"No; you don't offend me," she said, after a brief pause. "We're +friends, aren't we, in spite of--" + +As she hesitated I filled in the phrase. + +"In spite of the difference between us." + +Because she was pursuing her own thoughts she allowed that to pass. + +"People have gone over cataracts--and still lived." + +"Ah, but there's more to existence than life," I exclaimed, promptly. + +"There was a friend of my own," she continued, without immediate +reference to my observation; "at least she was a friend--I suppose she +is still--her name was Madeline Grimshaw--" + +"Yes, Mrs. Pyne; but she wasn't Mrs. Brokenshire." + +"No; she never was so unhappy." She pressed her handkerchief against the +two great tears that rolled down her cheeks. "She did love Mr. Grimshaw +at one time, whereas I--" + +"But you say he's kind." + +"Oh yes. It isn't that. He's more than kind. He'd smother me with things +I'd like to have. It's--it's when he comes near me--when he touches +me--and--and his eye!" + +I knew enough of physical repulsion to be able to change my line of +appeal. "But do you think you'd gain anything if you made him +unhappy--now?" + +She looked at me wonderingly. + +"I shouldn't think you'd plead for him." + +I had ventured so far that I could go a little farther. + +"I don't think I'm pleading for him so much as for you." + +"Why do you plead for me? Do you think I should be--sorry?" + +"If you did what I imagine you're contemplating--yes." + +She surprised me by admitting my implication. + +"Even if I did, I couldn't be sorrier than I am." + +"Oh, but existence is more than joy and sorrow." + +"You said just now that it was more than life. I suppose you mean that +it's love." + +"I should say that it's more than love." + +"Why, what can it be?" + +I smiled apologetically. + +"Mightn't it be--right?" + +She studied me with an air of angelic sweetness. + +"Oh no, I could never believe that." + +And she went more resolutely toward the door. + +Hugh returned in good spirits from Philadelphia. He had been well +received. His name had secured him much the same welcome as that +accorded him on his first excursions into Wall Street. I didn't tell him +I feared that the results would be similar, for I saw that he was +cheered. + +To verify the love I had acknowledged to him more than once, I was eager +to look at him again. I found a man thinner and older and shabbier than +the Hugh who first attracted my attention by being kind to me. I could +have borne with his being thinner and older; but that he should be +shabbier wrung my heart. + +I considered myself engaged to him. That as yet I had not spoken the +final word was a detail, in my mind, considering that I had so often +rested in his arms and pillowed my head on his shoulder. The fact, too, +that when I had first allowed myself those privileges I had taken him to +be a strong character--the shadow of a rock in a thirsty land, I had +called him--and that I now saw he was a weak one, bound me to him the +more closely. I had gone to him because I needed him; but now that I saw +he needed me I was sure I could never break away from him. + +He dined with me at the Mary Chilton on the evening of his return, +sitting where Larry Strangways had sat only forty-eight hours +previously. I was sorry then that I had not changed the table. To be +face to face with two men, on exactly the same spot, on occasions so +near together, in conditions so alike, gave me a sense of faithlessness. +Though I wanted nothing so much as to be honest with them both, I was +afraid of being so with neither; and yet for this I hardly knew where to +place the blame. I suffered for Hugh because of Larry Strangways, and I +suffered for Larry Strangways because of Hugh. If I suffered for myself +I was scarcely aware of it, having to give so much thought to them. + +Nevertheless, I regretted that I had not chosen another table, and all +the more when Hugh brought the matter up. He had finished telling me of +his experiences in Philadelphia. "Now what have you been doing?" he +demanded, a smile lighting up his tired face. + +"Oh, nothing much--the same old thing." + +"Seen anybody in particular?" + +I weighed my answer carefully. + +"Nobody in particular, except Mr. Strangways." + +He frowned. + +"Where did you see that fellow?" + +"Right here." + +"Right here? What do you mean by that?" + +"He came to dine with me." + +"Dine with you! And sat where I'm sitting now?" + +I tried to take this pleasantly. + +"It's the only place I've got to ask any one I want to talk to." + +"But why should you want to talk to--to--" I saw him struggling with the +word, but it came out--"to that bounder?" + +"He's a friend of mine, Hugh. I've asked you already to remember that +he's a gentleman." + +"Gentleman! O Lord!" He became kindly and coaxing, leaning across the +table with an ingratiating smile. "Look here, little Alix! Don't you +think that for my sake it's time you were beginning to drop that lot?" + +Though I revolted against the expression, I pretended to see nothing +amiss. + +"You mean just as Libby Jaynes had to drop the barbers and the pages in +the hotel when she became Mrs. Tracy Allen." + +He laughed nervously. + +"Oh, I don't go as far as that. And yet if I did--" + +"It wouldn't be too far." I gave him the impression that I was thinking +the question out. "But you see, Hugh, dear, I don't see any difference +between Mr. Strangways--" + +"And me?" + +"I wasn't going to say you, but between Mr. Strangways and the people +you'd like me to know. Or rather, if I do see a difference it's that Mr. +Strangways is so much more a man of the world than--than--" + +Perceiving my embarrassment, he broke in: + +"Than who?" + +I took my courage in both hands. + +"Than Mr. Rossiter, for example, or your brother, Mr. Jack Brokenshire, +or any of the men I met when I was with your sister. If I hadn't seen +you--the truest gentleman I ever knew--I shouldn't have supposed that +any of them belonged to the real great world at all." + +To my relief he took this good-naturedly. + +"That's what we call social inexperience, little Alix. It's because you +don't know how to distinguish." + +"That is, I don't know a good thing when I see it." + +"You don't know that sort of good thing--the American who counts. But +you can learn. And if you learn you've got to take as a starting-point +the fact that, just as there are things one does and things one doesn't +do, so there are people one knows and people one doesn't know--and no +one can tell you the reason why." + +"But if one asked for a reason--" + +"It would queer you with the right people. They don't want a reason. If +people do want a reason--well, they've got to stay out of it. It was one +of the things Libby Jaynes picked up as if she'd been born to it. She +knew how to cut; she knew how to cut dead; and she cut as dead as she +knew how." + +"But, Hugh, darling, I don't know how." + +He was all forbearance. + +"You'll learn, sweet." As for the moment the waitress was absent, he put +out his hand and locked his fingers within mine. "You've got it in you. +Once you've had a chance you'll knock Libby Jaynes into a cocked hat." + +I shook my head. + +"I'm not sure that you're right." + +"I know I'm right, if you do as I tell you: and to begin with you've got +to put that fellow Strangways in his place." + +I let it go at that, having so many other things to think of that any +mere status of my own became of no importance. I was willing that Hugh +should marry me as Tracy Allen married Libby Jaynes, or in any other +way, so long as I could play my part in the rest of the drama with +right-mindedness. But it was precisely that that grew more difficult. + +When Mrs. Brokenshire and Mr. Grainger next met under what I can only +call my chaperonage they were distinctly more at ease. The first +stammering, shamefaced awkwardness was gone. They knew by this time what +they had to say and said it. They had also come to understand that if I +could not be moved I might be outwitted. By the simple expedient of +wandering away on the plea of looking at this or that decorative object +they obtained enough solitude to serve their purposes. Without taking +themselves beyond my range of vision they got out of earshot. + +As far as that went I was relieved. I was not responsible for what they +did, but only for what I did myself. I was not their keeper; I didn't +want to be a spy on them. When, at a certain minute, as they returned +toward me, I saw him pass a letter to her, it was entirely by chance. I +reflected then that, while she ran no risk in using the mails in writing +to him, it was not so with him in writing to her, and that +communications of importance might have to pass between them. It was +nothing to me. I was sorry to have surprised the act and tried to +dismiss it from my mind. + +It was repeated, however, the next time they came and many times after +that. Their comings settled into a routine of being twice a week, with +fair regularity. Tuesdays and Fridays were their days, though not +without variation. It was indeed this variation that saved the situation +on a certain afternoon when otherwise all might have been lost. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + +We had come to February, 1914. During the intervening months the +conditions in which I lived and worked underwent little change. My days +and nights were passed between the library and the Mary Chilton, with +few social distractions, though I had some. Larry Strangways's sister, +Mrs. Applegate, had called on me, and her house, a headquarters of New +York philanthropies, had opened to me its kindly doors. Through Mrs. +Applegate one or two other women came to relieve my loneliness, and now +and then old Halifax friends visiting New York took me to theaters and +to dinners at hotels. Ethel Rossiter was as friendly as fear of her +father and of social conventions permitted her to be, and once or twice +when she was quite alone I lunched with her. On each of these occasions +she had something new to tell me. + +The first was that Hugh had met his father accidentally face to face, +and that the parent had cut the son. Of that Hugh had told me nothing. +According to Ethel, he was more affected by the incident than by +anything else since the beginning of his cares. He felt it too deeply to +speak of it even to me, to whom he spoke of everything. + +It happened, I believe at the foot of the steps of a club. Hugh, who was +passing, saw his father coming down, and waited. Howard Brokenshire +brought into play his faculty of seeing without seeing, and went on +majestically, while Hugh stared after him with tears of vexation in his +eyes. + +"He felt it the more," Mrs. Rossiter stated in her impartial way, +"because I doubt if he had the price of his dinner in his pocket." + +It was then that she gave me to understand that if it were not that +Mildred was lending him money he would have nothing to subsist on at +all. Mildred had a little from her grandfather Brew, being privileged in +this respect because she was the only one of the first Mrs. +Brokenshire's children born at the time of the grandfather's demise. The +legacy had been a trifle, but from this fund, which had never been his +father's, Hugh consented to take loans. + +"Hugh, darling," I said to him the next time I had speech with him, +"don't you see now that he's irreconcilable? He'll either starve you +into surrender--" + +"Never," he cried, thumping the table with his hand. + +"Or else you must take such work as you can get." + +"Such work as I can get! Do you know how much that would bring me in a +week?" + +"Even so," I reasoned, "you'd have work and I should have work, and we'd +live." + +He was hurt. + +"Americans don't believe in working their women," he declared, loftily. +"If I can't give you a life in which you'll have nothing at all to do--" + +"But I don't want a life in which I'll have nothing at all to do," I +cried. "Your idle women strike me as a weak point in your national +organization. It's like the dinner-parties I've seen at some of your +restaurants and hotels--a circle of men at one table and a circle of +women at another. You revolve too much in separate spheres. Your women +have too little to do with business and politics and your men with +society and the fine arts. I'm not used to such a pitiless separation of +the sexes. Don't let us begin it, Hugh, darling. Let me share what you +share--" + +"You won't share anything sordid, little Alix, I can tell you that. When +you're my wife you'll have nothing to think of but having a good time +and looking your prettiest--" + +"I should die of it," I exclaimed but this he took as a joke. + +That had passed in January. What Ethel Rossiter told me the next time I +lunched with her was that Lady Cecilia Boscobel had accepted her +invitation and was expected within a few weeks. She repeated what she +had already said of her, in exactly the same words. + +"She's a good deal of a girl, Cissie is." My heart leaped and fell +almost simultaneously. If I could only give up Hugh in such a way that +he would have to give me up, this girl might help us out of our impasse. +Had Mrs. Rossiter stopped there I might have made some noble vow of +renunciation; but she went on: "If she wants Hugh she'll take him. Don't +be under any illusion about that." + +Though my quick mettle was up, I said, docilely: + +"Oh no, I'm not. But if you mean taking him away from me--well, a good +many people have tried it, haven't they?" + +"Cissie Boscobel hasn't tried it." + +But I was peaceably inclined. + +"Oh, well," I said, "perhaps she won't. She may not think it worth her +while." + +"If you want to know my opinion," Mrs. Rossiter insisted, as she helped +herself to the peas which the rosebud Thomas was passing, "I think she +will. Men aren't so plentiful over there as you seem to suppose--that +is, men of the kind they'd marry. Lord Goldborough has no money at all, +as you might say, and yet the girls have to be set up in big +establishments. You've only got to look at them to see it. Cissie +marrying a subaltern with a thousand pounds a year isn't thinkable. It +wouldn't dress her. She's coming over here to take a look at Hugh, and +if she likes him-- Well, I told you long ago that you'd be wise to snap +up that young Strangways. He's much better-looking than Hugh, and more +in your own-- Besides, Jim says that now that he's with"--she balked at +the name of Grainger--"now that he's where he is he's beginning to make +money. It doesn't take so long when people have the brains for it." + +All this gave me a feeling of mingled curiosity and fear when, a few +weeks later, I came on Mrs. Rossiter and Lady Cecilia Boscobel looking +into a shop window in Fifth Avenue. It was a Saturday afternoon, the day +which I had off and on which I made my modest purchases. It was a cold, +brisk day, with light snow whirling in tiny eddies on the ground. I was +going northward on the sunny side. At a distance of some fifty yards I +recognized Mrs. Rossiter's motor standing by the curb, and cast my eyes +about for a possible glimpse of her. Moving away from the window of the +jeweler's whence she had probably come out, she saw me approach, and +turned at once with a word or two to the lady beside her, who also +looked in my direction. I knew by intuition who Mrs. Rossiter's +companion was, and that my connection with the family had been explained +to her. + +Mrs. Rossiter made the presentation in her usual offhand way. + +"Oh, Miss Adare! I want to introduce you to Lady Cecilia Boscobel." + +We exchanged civil, remote, and non-committal salutations, each of us +with her hands in her muff. My immediate impression was one of color, as +it is when you see old Limoges enamels. There was more color in Lady +Cissie's personality than in that of any one I have ever looked at. Her +hair was red--not auburn or copper, but red--a decorative, flaming red. +I have often noticed how slight is the difference between beautiful red +hair and ugly. Lady Cissie's was of the shade that is generally ugly, +but which in her case was rendered glorious by the introduction of some +such pigment, gleaming and umber, as that which gives the peculiar hue +to Australian gold. I had never seen such hair or hair in such +quantities, except in certain pictures of the pre-Raphaelite +brotherhood, for which I should have supposed there could have been no +earthly model had my father not known Eleanor Siddall. Lady Cissie's +eyes were gray, with a greenish light in them when she turned her head. +Her complexion could only be compared to the kind of carnation which the +whitest of whites is flecked in just the right spots by the rosiest +rose. In the lips, which were full and firm, also like Eleanor +Siddall's, the rose became carmine, to melt away into coral-pink in the +shell-like ears. Her dress of seal-brown broadcloth, on which there was +a sheen, was relieved by occasional touches of sage-green, and the +numerous sable tails on her boa and muff blew this way and that way in +the wind. In the small black hat, perched at what I can only describe as +a triumphant angle, an orange wing became at the tip of each tiny +topmost feather a daring line of scarlet. Nestling on the sage-green +below the throat a row of amber beads slumbered and smoldered with lemon +and orange and ruby lights that now and then shot out rays of crimson or +scarlet fire. + +I thought of my own costume--naturally. I was in gray, with inexpensive +black furs. An iridescent buckle, with hues such as you see in a +pigeon's neck, at the side of my black-velvet toque was my only bit of +color. I was poor Jenny Wren in contrast to a splendid bird-of-paradise. +So be it! I could at least be a foil to this healthy, vigorous young +beauty who was two inches taller than I, and might have my share of the +advantages which go with all antithesis. + +The talk was desultory, and in it the English girl took no part. Mrs. +Rossiter asked me where I was going, what I was going for, and whether +or not she couldn't take me to my destination in her car. I declined +this offer, explained that my errands were trivial, and examined Lady +Cissie through the corner of my eye. On her side Lady Cissie examined me +quite frankly--not haughtily, but distantly and rather sympathetically. +She had come all this distance to take a look at Hugh, and I was the +girl he loved. I counted on the fact to give poor Jenny Wren her value, +and I think it did. At any rate, when I had answered all Mrs. Rossiter's +questions and was moving off to continue my way up-town, Lady Cissie's +rich lips quivered in a sort of farewell smile. + +But Hugh showed little interest when I painted her portrait verbally. + +"Yes, that's the girl," he observed indifferently, "red-headed, +long-legged, slashy-colored, laid on a bit too thick." + +"She's beautiful, Hugh." + +"Is she? Well, perhaps so. Wouldn't be my style; but every one to his +taste." + +"It you saw her now--" + +"Oh, I've seen her often enough, just as she's seen me." + +"She hasn't seen you as you are to-day, and neither have you seen her. A +few years makes a difference." + +He looked at me quizzically. + +"Look here, little Alix, what are you giving us? Do you think I'd turn +you down now--for all the Lady Cissies in the British peerage? Do you, +now?" + +"Not, perhaps, if you put it as turning me down--" + +"Well, as you turning me down, then?" + +"Our outlook is pretty dark, isn't it?" + +"Just wait." + +I ignored his pathetic boastfulness to continue my own sentence. + +"And this prospect is so brilliant. You'd have a handsome wife, a big +income, a good position, an important family backing on both sides of +the Atlantic--all of which would make you the man you ought to be. Now +that I've seen her, and rather guess that she'd take you, I don't see +how I can let you forfeit so much. I don't want to make you regret the +day you ever saw me--" + +"Or regret yourself the day you ever saw me." + +If I took up this challenge it was more for his sake than my own. + +"Then suppose I accept that way of putting it?" + +He looked at me solemnly, for a second or two, after which he burst out +laughing. That I might have hesitations as to connecting myself with the +Brokenshires was more than he could grasp. He might have minutes of +jealousy of Larry Strangways, but his doubt could go no further. It went +no further, even after he had seen Lady Cecilia and they had renewed +their early acquaintance. Ethel Rossiter had managed that, of course +with her father's connivance. + +"Fine big girl," Hugh commended, "but too showy." + +"She's not showy," I contradicted. "A thing isn't necessarily showy +because it has bright colors. Tropical birds are not showy, nor roses, +nor rubies--" + +"I prefer pearls," he said, quietly. "You're a pearl, little Alix, the +pearl of great price for which a man sells all that he has and buys it." +Before I could respond to this kindly speech he burst out: "Good Lord! +don't you suppose I can see what it all means? Cissie's the gay +artificial fly that's to tempt the fish away from the little silvery +minnow. Once I've darted after the bit of red and yellow dad will have +hooked me. That's his game. Don't you think I see it? What dad wants is +not that I shall have a wife I can love, but that he shall have a +daughter-in-law with a title. You'd have to be, well, what I hope you +will be some day, to know what that means to a man like dad. A +son-in-law with a title--that's as common as beans to rich Americans; +but a daughter-in-law with a title--a real, genuine British title, as +sound as the Bank of England--that's something new. You can count on the +fingers of one hand the American families that have got 'em"--he named +them, one in Philadelphia, one in Chicago, one or two in New York--"and +dad's as mad as blazes that he didn't think of the thing first. If he +had, he'd have put Jack on to it, in spite of all Pauline's money; but +since it's too late for that I must toe the mark. Well, I'm not going +to, do you see? I'm going to choose my own wife, and I've chosen her. +Birth and position mean nothing to me, for I'm as much of a Socialist as +ever--or almost." + +With such resolution as this there was no way of reasoning, so that I +could only go on, wondering and hoping and doing what I could for the +best. + +What I could do for the best included watching over Mrs. Brokenshire. +As winter progressed the task became harder and I grew the more anxious. +So far no one suspected her visits to Mr. Grainger's library, and to the +best of my knowledge her imprudence ended there. Further than to wander +about the room the lovers never tried to elude me, though now and then I +could see, without watching them, that he took her hand. Once or twice I +thought he kissed her, but of that I was happily not sure. It was a +relief, too, that as the days grew longer occasional visitors dropped in +while they were there. The old gentleman interested in prints and the +lady who studied Shakespeare came not infrequently. There were couples, +too, who wandered in, seeking for their own purposes a half-hour of +privacy. After all, the place was almost a public one to those who knew +how to find it; and I was quick enough to see that in this very +publicity lay a measure of salvation. + +Mrs. Brokenshire was as quick to perceive this as I. When there were +other people there she was more at ease. Nothing was simpler then than +for Mr. Grainger and herself to be visitors like the rest, strolling +about or sitting in shady corners, and keeping themselves unrecognized. +There was thus a Thursday in the early part of March when I didn't +expect them, because it was a Thursday. They came, however, only to find +the old gentleman interested in prints and the lady who studied +Shakespeare already on the spot. I was never so glad of anything as of +this accidental happening when a surprising thing occurred to me next +day. + +It was between half past five and six on the Friday. As the lovers had +come on the preceding day, I knew they would not appear on this, and was +beginning to make my preparations for going home. I was actually pinning +on my hat when the soft opening of the outer door startled me. A soft +step sounded in the little inner vestibule, and then there came an +equally soft, breathless standing still. + +My hands were paralyzed in their upward position at my hat; my heart +pounded so that I could hear it; my eyes were wide with terror as they +looked back at me from the splendid Venetian mirror before which I +stood. I was always afraid of robbers or murderers, even though I had +the wrought-iron grille between me and them, and Mr. or Mrs. Daly within +call. + +Knowing that there was nothing for it but to go and see who was there, +and suspecting that it might be Mrs. Brokenshire, after all, I dragged +my feet across the few intervening paces. It was not Mrs. Brokenshire. +It was a man, a man who looked inordinately big and majestic in this +little decorative pen. I needed a few seconds in which to gaze, a few +seconds in which to adjust my faculties, before grasping the fact that I +saw Mrs. Brokenshire's husband. On his side, he needed something of the +sort himself. Of all people in the world with whom he expected to find +himself face to face I am sure I must have been the last. + +I touched the spring, however, and the little portal opened. It opened +and he stepped in. He stepped in and stood still. He stood still and +looked round him. If I dare to say it of one who was never timid in his +life, he looked round him timidly. His eyes showed it, his attitude +showed it. He had come on a hateful errand; his feet were on hateful +ground. He expected to see something more than me--and emptiness. + +I got back some of my own self-control by being sorry for him, giving no +indication of ever having met him before. + +"You'd like to see the library, sir," I said, as I should have said it +to any chance visitor. + +He dropped into a large William and Mary chair, one of the show pieces, +and placed his silk hat on the floor. + +"I'll sit down," he murmured less to me than to himself. His stick he +dandled now across and now between his knees. + +The tea things were still on the table. + +"Would you like a cup of tea?" I asked, in genuine solicitude. + +"Yes--no." I think he would have liked it, but he probably remembered +whose tea it was. "No," he repeated, with decision. + +He breathed heavily, with short, puffy gasps. I recalled then that Mrs. +Brokenshire had said that his heart had been affected. As a matter of +fact, he put his gloved left hand up to it, as people do who feel +something giving way within. + +To relieve the embarrassment of the situation I said: + +"I could turn on all the lights and you could see the library without +going round it." + +Withdrawing the hand at his heart, he raised it in the manner with which +I was familiar. + +"Sit down," he commanded, as sternly as his shortness of breath allowed. + +The companion William and Mary chair being near, I slipped into it. +Having him in three-quarters profile, I could study him without doing it +too obviously, and could verify Mrs. Brokenshire's statements that +Hugh's affairs were "telling on him." He was perceptibly older, in the +way in which people look older all at once after having long kept the +semblance of youth. The skin had grown baggy, the eyes tired; the beard +and mustache, though as well cared for as ever, more decidedly mixed +with gray. It was indicative of something that had begun to disintegrate +in his self-esteem, that when his poor left eye screwed up he turned the +terrifying right one on me with no effort to conceal the grimace. + +As it was for him to break the silence, I waited in my huge ornamental +chair, hoping he would begin. + +"What are you doing here?" + +The voice had lost none of its soft staccato nor of its whip-lash snap. + +"I'm Mr. Grainger's librarian," I replied, meekly. + +"Since when?" he panted. + +"Since not long after I left Mrs. Rossiter." + +He took his time to think another question out. + +"How did your employer come to know about you?" + +I explained, as though he had had no knowledge of the fact, that Mrs. +Rossiter had employed for her boy, Brokenshire, a tutor named +Strangways. This Mr. Strangways had attracted Mr. Grainger's attention +by some articles he had written for the financial press. An introduction +had followed, after which Mr. Grainger had engaged the young man as his +secretary. Hearing that Mr. Grainger had need of a librarian, Mr. +Strangways had suggested me. + +I could see suspicion in the way in which he eyed me as well as in his +words. + +"Had you no other recommendation?" + +"No, sir," I said, simply, "none that Mr. Grainger ever told me of." + +He let that pass. + +"And what do you do here?" + +"I show the library to visitors. If any one wishes a particular book, or +to look at engravings, I help him to find what he wants." I thought it +well to keep up the fiction that he had come as a sight-seer. "If you'd +care to go over the place now, sir--" + +His hand went up in a majestic waving aside of this courtesy. + +"And have you many visitors to the--to the library?" + +Though I saw the implication, I managed to elude it. + +"Yes, sir, taking one day with another. It depends a little on the +weather and the time of year." + +"Are they chiefly strangers--or--or do you ever see any one +you've--you've seen before?" + +His difficulty in phrasing this question made me even more sorry for him +than I was already. I decided, both for his sake and my own, to walk up +frankly and take the bull by the horns. "They're generally strangers; +but sometimes people come whom I know." I looked at him steadily as I +continued. "I'll tell you something, sir. Perhaps I ought not to, and it +may be betraying a secret; but you might as well know it from me as hear +it from some one else." The expression of the face he turned on me was +so much that of Jove, whose look could strike a man dead, that I had all +I could do to go on. "Mrs. Brokenshire comes to see me." + +"To see--you?" + +"Yes, sir, to see me." + +The staccato accent grew difficult and thick. "What for?" + +"Because she can't help it. She's sorry for me." + +There was a new attempt to ignore me and my troubles as he said: + +"Why should she be sorry for you?" + +"Because she sees that you're hard on me--" + +"I haven't meant to be hard on you, only just." + +"Well, just then; but Mrs. Brokenshire doesn't know anything about +justice when she can be merciful. You must know that yourself, sir. I +think she's the most beautiful woman God ever made; and she's as kind as +she's beautiful. I'll tell you something else, sir. It will be another +betrayal, but it will show you what she is. One day at Newport--after +you'd spoken to me--and she saw that I was so crushed by it that all I +could do was to creep down among the rocks and cry--she watched me, and +followed me, and came and cried with me. And so when she heard I was +here--" + +"Who told her?" + +There was a measure of accusation in the tone of the question, but I +pretended not to detect it. + +"Mrs. Rossiter, perhaps--she knows--or almost anybody. I never asked +her." + +"Very well! What then?" + +"I was only going to say that when she heard I was here she came almost +at once. I begged her not to--" + +"Why? What were you afraid of?" + +"I knew you wouldn't like it. But I couldn't stop her. No one could stop +her when it comes to her doing an act of kindness. She obeys her own +nature because she can't do anything else. She's like a little bird that +you can keep from flying by holding it in your hand, but as soon as your +grasp is relaxed--it flies." + +Something of this was true, in that it was true potentially. She had +these qualities, even if they were nipped in her as buds are nipped in a +backward spring. I could only calm my conscience as I went along by +saying to myself that if I saved her she would have to bear me out +through being true to the picture I was painting, and living up to her +real self. + +Praise of the woman he adored would have been as music to him had he +not had something on his mind that turned music into poignancy. What it +was I could surmise, and so be prepared for it. Not till he had been +some time silent, probably getting his question into the right words, +did he say: + +"And are you always alone when Mrs. Brokenshire comes?" + +"Oh no, sir!" I made the tone as natural as I could. "But Mrs. +Brokenshire doesn't seem to mind. Yesterday, for instance--" + +"Was she here yesterday? I thought she came on--" + +I broke in before he could betray himself further. + +"Yes, she was here yesterday; and there was--let me see!--there was an +old gentleman comparing his Japanese prints with Mr. Grainger's, and a +middle-aged lady who comes to study the old editions of Shakespeare. But +Mrs. Brokenshire didn't object to them. She sat with me and had a cup of +tea." + +I knew I had come to dangerous ground, and was ready for my part in the +adventure. Had he asked the question: "Was there anybody else?" I was +resolved, in the spirit of my maxim, to tell the truth as harmlessly as +I knew how. But I didn't think he would ask it. I reckoned on his +unwillingness to take me into his confidence or to humiliate himself +more than he could help. That he guessed at something behind my words I +could easily suspect; but I was so sure he would have torn out his +tongue rather than force his pride to cross-examine me too closely, that +I was able to run my risk. + +As a matter of fact, he became pensive, and through the gloom of the +half-lighted room I could see that his face was contorted twice, still +with no effort on his part to hide his misfortune. As he took the time +to think I could do the same, with a kind of intuition in following the +course of his meditations. I was not surprised, therefore, when he said, +with renewed thickness of utterance: + +"Has Mrs. Brokenshire any--any other motive in coming here than +just--just to see you?" + +I hung my head, perhaps with a touch of that play-acting spirit which +most women are able to command, when the time comes. + +"Yes, sir." + +He waited again. I never heard such overtones of despair as were in the +three words which at last he tried to toss off easily. + +"What is it?" + +I still hung my head. + +"She brings me money for poor Hugh." + +He started back, whether from anger or relief I couldn't tell, and his +face twitched for the fourth time. In the end, I suppose, he decided +that anger was the card he could play most skilfully. + +"So that that's what enables him to keep up his rebellion against me!" + +"No, sir," I said, humbly, "because he never takes it." I went on with +that portrait of Mrs. Brokenshire which I vowed she would have to +justify. "That doesn't make any difference, however, to her wonderful +tenderness of heart in wanting him to have it. You see, sir, when any +one's so much like an angel as she is they don't stop to consider how +justly other people are suffering or how they've brought their troubles +on themselves. Where there's trouble they only ask to help; where +there's suffering their first instinct is to heal. Mrs. Brokenshire +doesn't want to sustain your son against you; that never enters her +head: she only wants him not--not"--my own voice shook a little--"not +to have to go without his proper meals. He's doing that now, I +think--sometimes, at least. Oh, sir," I ventured to plead, "you can't +blame her, not when she's so--so heavenly." Stealing a glance at him, I +was amazed and shocked, and not a little comforted, to see two tears +steal down his withered cheeks. Knowing then that he would not for some +minutes be able to control himself sufficiently to speak, I hurried on. +"Hugh doesn't take the money, because he knows that this is something he +must go through with on his own strength. If he can't do that he must +give in. I think I've made that clear to him. I'm not the adventuress +you consider me--indeed I'm not. I've told him that if he's ever +independent I will marry him; but I shall not marry him so long as he +isn't free to give himself away. He's putting up a big fight, and he's +doing it so bravely, that if you only knew what he's going through you'd +be proud of him as your son." + +Resting my case there, I waited for some response, but I waited in vain. +He reflected, and sat silent, and crossed and uncrossed his knees. At +last he picked up his hat from the floor and rose. I, too, rose, waiting +beside my chair, while he flicked the dust from the crown of his hat and +seemed to study its glossy surface as he still reflected. + +I was now altogether without a clue to what was passing in his mind, +though I could guess at the age-long tragedy of December's love for May. +Having seen Ibsen's "Master Builder," at Munich, and read one or two +books on the theme with which it deals, I could, in a measure, +supplement my own experience. It was, however, the first time I had seen +with my own eyes this desperate yearning of age for youth, or this +something that is almost a death-blow which youth can inflict on age. My +father used to say that fundamentally there is no such period as age, +that only the outer husk grows old, while the inner self, the vital +_ego_, is young eternally. Here, it seemed to me, was an instance of the +fact. This man was essentially as young as he had been at twenty-five; +he had the same instincts and passions; he demanded the same things. If +anything, he demanded them more imperiously because of the long, long +habit of desire. Denial which thirty years ago he could have taken +philosophically was now a source of anguish. As I looked at him I could +see anguish on his lips, in his eyes, in the contraction of his +forehead--the anguish of a love ridiculous to all, and to the object of +it frightful and unnatural, for the reason that at sixty-two the skin +had grown baggy and the heart was supposed to be dead. + +From the smoothing of the crown of his hat he glanced up suddenly. The +whip-lash inflection was again in the timbre of the voice. + +"How much do you get here?" + +I was taken aback, but I named the amount of my salary. + +"I will give you twice as much as that for the next five years if--if +you go back to where you came from." + +It took me a minute to seize all the implications contained in this +little speech. I saw then that if I hoped I was making an impression, or +getting further ahead with him, I was mistaken. Neither had my +interpretation of Mrs. Brokenshire's character put him off the scent +concerning her. I was so far indeed from influencing him in either her +favor or my own that he believed that if he could get rid of me an +obstacle would be removed. + +Tears sprang into my eyes, though they didn't fall. + +"So you blame me, sir, for everything." + +He continued to watch his gloved hand as it made the circle of the crown +of his hat. + +"I'll make it twice what you're getting here for ten years. I'll put it +in my will." It was no use being angry or mounting my high horse. The +struggle with tears kept me silent as he glanced up from the rubbing of +his hat and said in a jerky, kindly tone: "Well? What do you say?" + +I didn't know what to say; and what I did say was foolish. I should have +known enough to suppress it before I began. + +"Do you remember, sir, that once when you were speaking to me severely, +you said you were my friend? Well, why shouldn't I be your friend, too?" + +The look he bent down on me was that of a great personage positively +dazed by an inferior's audacity. + +"I could be your friend," I stumbled on, in an absurd effort to explain +myself. "I should like to be. There are--there are things I could do for +you." + +He put on his tall hat with the air of a Charlemagne or a Napoleon +crowning himself. This increase of authority must have made me +desperate. It is only thus that I can account for my _gaffe_--the French +word alone expresses it--as I dashed on, wildly: + +"I like you, sir--I can't help it. I don't know why, but I do. I like +you in spite of--in spite of everything. And, oh, I'm so sorry for +you--" + +He moved away. There was noble, wounded offense in his manner of passing +through the wrought-iron grille, which he closed with a little click +behind him. He stepped out of the place as softly as he had stepped in. + +For long minutes I stood, holding to the side of the William and Mary +chair, regretting that the interview should have ended in this way. I +didn't cry; I had, in fact, no longer any tendency to tears. I was +thoughtful--wondering what it was that dug the gulf between this man and +his family and me. Ethel Rossiter had never--I could see it well enough +now--accepted me as an equal, and even to Hugh I was only another type +of Libby Jaynes. I was as intelligent as they, as well born, as well +mannered, as thoroughly accustomed to the world. Why should they +consider me an inferior? Was it because I had no money? Was it because I +was a Canadian? Would it have made a difference if I had been an +Englishwoman like Cissie Boscobel, or rich like any of themselves? I +couldn't tell. All I knew was that my heart was hot within me, and since +Howard Brokenshire wouldn't have me as a friend I wanted to act as his +enemy. I could see how to do it. Indeed, without doing anything at all I +could encourage, and perhaps bring about, a situation that would send +the name of the family ringing through the press of two continents and +break his heart. I had only to sit still--or at most to put in a word +here and there. I am not a saint; I had my hour of temptation. + +It was a stormy hour, though I never moved from the spot where I stood. +The storm was within. That which, as the minutes went by, became rage in +me saw with satisfaction Howard Brokenshire brought to a desolate old +age, and Mildred and Ethel and Jack and Pauline, in spite of their +bravado and their high heads, all seared by the flame of notorious +disgrace. I went so far as to gloat over poor Hugh's discomfiture, +taking vengeance on his habit of rating me with the socially +incompetent. As for Mrs. Brokenshire, she would be over and done with, a +poor little gilded outcast, whose fall would be such that even as Mrs. +Stacy Grainger she would never rise again. Like another Samson, I could +pull down this house of pride, though, happier than Samson, I should not +be overwhelmed in the ruin of it. From that I should be safe--with Larry +Strangways. + +Nearly half an hour went by while I stood thus indulging in fierce +day-dreams. I was racked and suffering. I suffered, indeed, from the +misfortunes I saw descending on people whom at bottom of my heart I +cared for. It was not till I began to move, till I had put on my jacket +and was turning out the lights, that my maxim came back to me. I knew +then that whatever happened I should stand by that, and having come to +this understanding with myself, I was quieted. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + +Having made up my mind to adhere, however imperfectly, to the principle +that had guided me hitherto, I was obliged to examine my conscience as +to what I had said to Mr. Brokenshire. This I did in the evening, coming +to the conclusion that I had told him nothing but the truth, even if it +was not all the truth. Though I hated duplicity, I couldn't see that I +had a right to tell him all the truth, or that to do so would be wise. +If he could be kept, for everybody's sake, from knowing more than he +knew already, however much or little that was, it seemed to me that +diplomatic action on my part would be justified. + +In the line of diplomatic action I had before all things to inform Mrs. +Brokenshire of the visit I had received. This was not so easy as it may +seem. I could not trust to a letter, through fear of its falling into +other hands than hers. Neither could I wait for her coming on the +following Tuesday, since that was what I wanted to prevent. There was no +intermediary whom I could intrust with a message, unless it was Larry +Strangways, who knew something of the facts; but even with him the +secret was too much to share. + +In the end I had recourse to the telephone, asking to be allowed to +speak to Mrs. Brokenshire. I was told that she never answered the +telephone herself, and was requested to transmit my message. Not to +arouse suspicion, I didn't ask that she should break her rule, but +begged that during the day she might find a minute in which to see Miss +Adare, who was in a difficulty that involved her work. That this way of +putting it was understood I gathered from the reply that came back to +me. It was to the effect that as Mr. Brokenshire would be lunching with +some men in the lower part of New York Mrs. Brokenshire would be alone +and able to receive Miss Adare at two. Fortunately, it was a Saturday, +so that my afternoon was free. + +Almost everybody familiar with New York knows the residence of J. Howard +Brokenshire not far above the Museum. Built of brick with stone facings, +it is meant to be in the style of Louis Treize. It would be quite in the +style of Louis Treize were the stonework not too heavy and elaborate, +and the facade too high for its length. Inside, with an incongruity many +rich people do not mind, it is sumptuously Roman and Florentine--the +Brokenshire villa at Newport on a larger and more lavish scale. Having +gone over the house with Ethel Rossiter during the winter I spent with +her, I had carried away the impression of huge unoccupied rooms, of +heavily carved or gilded furniture, of rich brocades, of dim old masters +in elaborate gold frames, of vitrines and vases and mirrors and +consoles, all supplied by some princely dealer in _objets d'art_ who had +received _carte blanche_ in the way of decoration. The Brokenshire +family, with the possible exception of Mildred, cared little for the +things with which they lived. Ethel Rossiter, in showing me over the +house, hardly knew a Perugino from a Fragonard, and still less could she +distinguish, between the glorious fading softness of a Flemish +fifteenth-century tapestry and a smug and staring bit of Gobelins. Hugh +went in and out as indifferently as in a hotel, while Jack Brokenshire's +taste in art hardly reached beyond racing prints. Mildred liked pretty +garlanded things _a la_ Marie Antoinette, which the parental habit of +deciding everything would never let her have. J. Howard alone made an +effort at knowing the value, artistic and otherwise, of his possessions, +and would sometimes, when strangers were present, point to this or that +object with the authority of a connoisseur, which he was not. + +It was a house for life in perpetual state, with no state to maintain. +Stafford House, Holland House, Bridgewater House, to name but a few of +the historic mansions in London, were made spacious and splendid to meet +a definite necessity. They belonged to days when the feudal tradition +still obtained and there were no comfortable hotels. Great lords came to +them with great families and great suites of retainers. Accommodation +being the first of all needs, there was a time when every corner of +these stately residences was lived in. But now that in England the great +lord tends more and more to be only a simple democratic individual, and +the wants of his relatives are easily met on a public or co-operative +principle, the noble Palladian or Georgian dwelling either becomes a +museum or a club, or remains a white elephant on the hands of some one +who would gladly be rid of it. Princes and princesses of the blood royal +rent numbered houses in squares and streets, next door to the Smiths and +the Joneses, in preference to the draughty grandeurs of St. James's and +Buckingham Palace, while a villa in the suburbs, with a few trees and a +garden, is often the shelter sought by the nobility. + +But in proportion as civilization in England, to say nothing of the +rest of Europe, puts off the burdensome to enjoy simplicity, America, it +strikes me, chases the tail of an antiquated, disappearing stateliness. +Rich men, just because they have the money, take upon their shoulders +huge domestic responsibilities in which there is no object, and which it +is probable the next generation will refuse to carry. In New York, in +Washington, in Newport, in Chicago, they raise palaces and chateaux +where they often find themselves lonely, and which they can rarely fill +more than two or three times a year. In the case of the Howard +Brokenshires it had ceased to be as often as that. After Ethel was +married Mr. Brokenshire seldom entertained, his second wife having no +heart for that kind of display. Now and then, in the course of a winter, +a great dinner was given in the great dining-room, or the music-room was +filled for a concert; but this was done for the sake of "killing off" +those to whom some attention had to be shown, and not because either +host or hostess cared for it. Otherwise the down-stairs rooms were +silent and empty, and whatever was life in the house went on in a corner +of the mansard. + +Thither the footman took me in a lift. Here were the rooms--a sort of +flat--which the occupants could dominate with their personalities. They +reminded me of those tiny chambers at Versailles to which what was human +in poor Marie Antoinette fled for refuge from her uncomfortable +gorgeousness as queen. + +Not that these rooms were tiny. On the contrary, the library or +living-room into which I was ushered was as large as would be found in +the average big house, and, notwithstanding its tapestries and massive +furniture, was bright with sunshine and flowers. Books lay about, and +papers and magazines, and after the tomb-like deadness of the lower +floors one got at least the impression of life. + +From the far end of the room Mrs. Brokenshire came forward, threading +her way between arm-chairs and taborets, and looking more exquisite, and +also more lost, than ever. She wore what might be called a glorified +_negligee_, lilac and lavender shading into violet, the train adding to +her height. Fear had to some degree blotted out her color and put +trouble into the sweetness of her eyes. + +"Something has happened," she said at once, as she took my hand. + +I spoke as directly as she did, though a little pantingly. + +"Yes; Mr. Brokenshire came to the library yesterday." + +"Ah-h!" The exclamation was no more than a long, frightened breath. +"Then that explains things. I saw when he came home to dinner that he +was unhappy." + +"Did he say anything?" + +"No; nothing. He was just--unhappy. Sit down and tell me." + +Staring wide-eyed at each other, we seated ourselves on the edge of two +huge arm-chairs. Having half expected my companion to fling the gauntlet +in her husband's face, I was relieved to find in her chiefly the dread +of detection. + +As exactly as I could I gave her an account of what had passed between +Mr. Brokenshire and myself, omitting only those absurd suggestions of my +own that had sent him away in dudgeon. She listened with no more +interruption than a question or two, after which she said, simply: + +"Then, I suppose, I can't go any more." + +"On the contrary," I corrected, "you must come just the same as ever, +only not on the same days, or at the same hours--or--or when there's any +one else there besides the visitors and me. If you stopped coming all of +a sudden Mr. Brokenshire would think--" + +"But he thinks that already." + +"Of course, but he doesn't know--not after what I said to him." I seized +the opportunity to beg her to play up. "You are all the things I told +him you were, dear Mrs. Brokenshire, don't you see you are?" + +But my appeal passed unheeded. + +"What made him suspect? I thought that would be the last thing." + +"I don't know. It might have been a lot of things. Once or twice I've +rather fancied that some of the people who came there--" + +Her features contracted in a spasm of horror. + +"You don't mean detect--" She found the word difficult to pronounce. +"You don't mean de-detectives watching--me?" + +"I don't say as much as that; but I've never liked Mr. Brokenshire's +man, Spellman." + +"No, nor I. He's out now. I made sure of that before you came." + +"So he might have sent some one; or-- But it's no use speculating, is +it? when there are so many ways. What we've specially got to know is how +to act, and I think I've told you the best method. If you don't keep +coming--judiciously--you'll show you're conscious of having done wrong." + +She sighed plaintively. + +"I don't want to do wrong unless I can't help it. If I can't--" + +"Oh, but you can." I tried once more to get in my point. "You wouldn't +be all I told Mr. Brokenshire you were if your first instinct wasn't to +do right." + +"Oh, right!" She sighed again, but impatiently. "You're always talking +about that." + +"One has to, don't you think, when it's so important--and so easy to do +wrong?" + +She grew mildly argumentative. + +"I don't see anything so terrible about wrong, when other people do it +and are none the worse." + +"May not that be because you've never tried it on your own account? It +depends a little on the grain of which one's made. The finer the grain, +the more harm wrong can do to it--just as a fragile bit of Venetian +glass is more easily broken than an earthenware jug, and an infinitely +greater loss." + +But the simile was wasted. From long contemplation of her hands she +looked up to say in a curiously coaxing tone: + +"You live at the Hotel Mary Chilton, don't you?" + +I caught her suggestion in a flash, and decided that I could let it go +no further. + +"Yes, but you couldn't come there--unless it was only to see me." + +"But what shall I do?" + +It was a kind of cry. She twisted her ringed fingers, while her eyes +implored me to help her. + +"Do nothing," I said, gently, and yet with some severity. "If you do +anything do just as I've said. That's all we've got to know for the +present." + +"But I must see him. Now that I've got used to doing it--" + +"If you must see him, dear Mrs. Brokenshire, you will." + +"Shall I? Will you promise me?" + +"I don't have to promise you. It's the way life works. If we only trust +to events--and to whatever it is that guides events--and--and do +right--I must repeat it--then the thing that ought to be will shape its +course--" + +"Ah, but if it doesn't?" + +"In that case we can know that it oughtn't to be." + +"I don't care whether it ought to be or not, so long as I can go on +seeing him--somewhere." + +I had enough sympathy with her to say: + +"Yes, but don't plan for it. Let it take care of itself and happen in +some natural way. Isn't it by mapping out things for ourselves that we +often thwart the good that would otherwise have come to us? I remember +reading somewhere of a lady who wrote of herself that she had been +healed of planning, and spoke of it as a real cure. That struck me as so +sensible. Life--not to use a greater word--knows much better what's good +for us than we do ourselves." + +She allowed this theme to lapse, while she sat pensive. + +"What shall I say," she asked at last, "if he brings the subject up?" + +I saw another opportunity. + +"What can you say other than what I've said already? You came to me +because you were sorry for me, and you wanted to help Hugh. He might +regret that you should do both, but he couldn't blame you for either. +They're only kindnesses--and we're all at liberty to be kind. Oh, don't +you see? That's your--how shall I put it?--that's your line if Mr. +Brokenshire ever speaks to you." + +"And suppose he tells me not to go to see you any more?" + +"Then you must stop. That will be the time. But not now when the mere +stopping would be a kind of confession--" + +And so, after many repetitions and some tears on both our parts, the +lesson was urged home. She was less docile, however, when in the spirit +of our new compact she came on the following Monday morning. + +"I must see him," was the burden of what she had to say. She spoke as if +I was forbidding her and ought to lift my veto. I might even have +inferred that in my position in Mr. Grainger's employ it was for me to +arrange their meetings. + +"You will see him, dear Mrs. Brokenshire--if it's right," was the only +answer I could find. + +"You don't seem to remember that I was to have married him." + +"I do, but we both have to remember that you didn't." + +"Neither did I marry Mr. Brokenshire. I was handed over to him. When +Lady Mary Hamilton was handed over in that way to the Prince of Monaco +the Pope annulled the marriage. We knew her afterward in Budapest, +married to some one else. If there's such a thing as right, as you're so +fond of saying, I ought to be considered free." + +I was holding both her hands as I said: + +"Don't try to make yourself free. Let life do it." + +"Life!" she cried, with a passionate vehemence I scarcely knew to be in +her. "It's life that--" + +"Treat life as a friend and not as an enemy. Trust it; wait for it. +Don't hurry it, or force it, or be impatient with it. I can't believe +that essentially it's hard or cruel or a curse. If it comes from God, it +must be good and beautiful. In proportion as we cling to the good and +beautiful we must surely get the thing we ought to have." + +Though I cannot say that she accepted this doctrine, it helped her over +a day or two, leaving me free for the time being to give my attention to +my own affairs. Having no natural stamina, the poor, lovely little +creature lived on such mental and spiritual pick-me-ups as I was able to +administer. Whenever she was specially in despair, which was every +forty-eight or sixty hours, she came back to me, and I did what I could +to brace her for the next short step of her way. I find it hard to +explain the intensity of her appeal to me. I suppose I must have +submitted to that spell of the perfect face which had bewitched Stacy +Grainger and Howard Brokenshire. I submitted also to her child-like +helplessness. God knows I am not a heroine. Any little fright or +difficulty upsets me. As compared with her, however, I was a giant +refreshed with wine. When her lip quivered, or when the sudden mist +drifted across her eyes, obscuring their forget-me-not blue with violet, +my yearning was exactly that which makes any woman long to take any +suffering baby in her arms. For this reason she didn't tax my patience, +nor had I that impulse to scold or shake her to which another woman of +such obvious limitations would have driven me. Touched as I was by the +aching heart, I was captivated by the perfect face; and I couldn't help +it. + +Thus through the rest of February and into March my chief occupation was +in keeping Howard Brokenshire's wife as true to him as the conditions +rendered possible. In the intervals I comforted Hugh, and beat off Larry +Strangways, and sat rigidly still while Stacy Grainger prowled round me +with fierce, suspicious, melancholy eyes, like those of a cowed tiger. +Afraid of him as I was, it filled me with grim inward amusement to +discover that he was equally afraid of me. He came into the library +from time to time, when he happened to be at his house, and like Mrs. +Brokenshire gave me the impression that the frustration of their love +was my fault. As I sat primly and severely at my desk, and he stalked +round and round the room, stabbing the old gentleman who classified +prints and the lady who collated the early editions of Shakespeare with +contemptuous glances, I knew that in his sight I represented--poor +me!--that virtuous respectability the sinner always holds in scorn. He +could not be ignorant of the fact that if it hadn't been for me Mrs. +Brokenshire would have been meeting him elsewhere, and so he held me as +an enemy. Had he not known that I was something besides an enemy he +would doubtless have sent me about my business. + +In one of the intervals of this portion of the drama I received a visit +that took me by surprise. Early in the afternoon of a day in March, Mrs. +Billing trotted into the library, followed by Lady Cecilia Boscobel. It +was the sort of occasion on which I should have been nervous enough in +any case, but it became terrifying when Mrs. Billing marched up to my +desk and pointed at me with her lorgnette, saying over her shoulder, +"There she is," as though I was a portrait. + +I struggled to my feet with what was meant to be a smile. + +"Lady Cecilia Boscobel," I stammered, "has seen me already." + +"Well, she can look at you again, can't she?" + +The English girl came to my rescue by smiling back, and murmuring a +faint "How do you do?" She eased the situation further by saying, with a +crisp, rapid articulation, in which every syllable was charmingly +distinct: "Mrs. Billing thought that as we were out sight-seeing we +might as well look at this. It's shown every day, isn't it?" + +She went on to observe that when places were shown only on certain days +it was so tiresome. One of her father's places, Dillingham Hall, in +Nottinghamshire, an old Tudor house, perfectly awful to live in, was +open to the public only on the second and fourth Wednesdays, and even +the family couldn't remember when those days came round. It was so +awkward to be doing your hair, or worse, and have tourists stumbling in +on you. + +I counted it to the credit of her tact and kindliness that she chatted +in this way long enough for me to get my breath, while Mrs. Billing +turned her lorgnette on the room with which she must have once been +familiar. If there was to be anything like rivalry between Lady Cissie +and me I gathered that she wouldn't stoop to petty feminine advantages. +Dressed in dark green, with a small hat of the same color worn +dashingly, she had that air of being the absolutely finished thing which +the tones of her voice announced to you. My heart grew faint at the +thought that Hugh would have to choose between this girl, so certain of +herself, and me. + +As we were all standing, I invited my callers to sit down. To this Lady +Cecilia acceded, though old Mrs. Billing strolled off to renew her +acquaintance with the room. I may say here that I call her old because +to be old was a kind of pose with her. She looked old and "dressed old" +so as to enjoy the dictatorial privileges that go with being old, when +as a matter of fact she was only sixty, which nowadays is young. + +"You're English, aren't you?" Lady Cecilia began, as soon as we were +alone. "I can tell by the way you speak." + +I said I was a Canadian, that I was in New York more or less by +accident, and might go back to my own country again. + +"How interesting! It belongs to us, Canadia, doesn't it?" + +With a slightly ironic emphasis on the proper noun I replied that +Canadia naturally belonged to the Canadians, but that the King of Great +Britain and Ireland was our king, and that we were very loyal to all +that we represented. + +"Fancy! And isn't it near here?" + +All of Canada, I stated, was north of some of the United States, and +some of it was south of others of the United States, but none of the +more settled parts was difficult of access from New York. + +"How very odd!" was her comment on these geographical indications. "I +think I remember that a cousin of ours was governor out there--or +something--though perhaps it was in India." + +I named the series of British noblemen who had ruled over us since the +confederation of the provinces in 1867, but as Lady Cecilia's kinsman +was not among them we concluded that he must have been Viceroy of India +or Governor-General of Australia. + +The theme served to introduce us to each other, and lasted while Mrs. +Billing's tour of inspection kept her within earshot. + +I am bound to admit that I admired Lady Cecilia with an envy that might +be qualified as green. She was not clever and she was not well educated, +but her high breeding was so spontaneous. She so obviously belonged to +spheres where no other rule obtained. Her manner was the union of polish +and simplicity; each word she pronounced was a pleasure to the ear. In +my own case life had been a struggle with that American-Canadian +crudity which stamps our New World carriage and speech with commonness; +but you could no more imagine this girl lapsing from the even tenor of +the exquisite than you could fancy the hermit thrush failing in its +song. + +When Mrs. Billing was quite at the other end of the room my companion's +manner underwent a change. During a second or two of silence her eyes +fell, while the shifting of color over the milk-whiteness of her skin +was like the play of Canadian northern lights. I was prepared for the +fact that beneath her poise she might be shy, and that, being shy, she +would be abrupt. + +"You're engaged to Hugh Brokenshire, aren't you?" + +The words were whipped out fast and jerkily, partly to profit by the +minute during which Mrs. Billing was at a distance, and partly because +it was a matter of now-or-never with their utterance. + +I made the necessary explanations, for what seemed to me must be the +hundredth time. I was not precisely engaged to him, but I had said I +would marry him if either of two conditions could be carried out. I went +on to state what those conditions were, finishing with the information +that of the two I had practically abandoned one. + +She nodded her comprehension. + +"You see that--that they won't come round." + +"No," I replied, with some incisiveness; "they will come +round--especially Mr. Brokenshire. It's the other condition I no longer +expect to see fulfilled." + +If the hermit thrush could fail in its song it did it then. Lady Cecilia +stared at me with a blankness that became awe. + +"That's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard. Ethel Rossiter must +be wrong." + +I had a sudden suspicion. + +"Wrong about what?" + +The question put Lady Cecilia on her guard. + +"Oh, nothing I need explain." But her face lighted with quick +enthusiasm. "I call it magnificent." + +"Call what 'magnificent'?" + +"Why, that you should have that conviction. When one sees any one so +sporting--" + +I began to get her idea. + +"Oh, I'm not sporting. I'm a perfect coward. But a sheep will make a +stand when it's put to it." + +With her hands in her sable muff, her shapely figure was inclined +slightly toward me. + +"I'm not sure that a sheep that makes a stand isn't braver than a lion. +The man my sister Janet is engaged to--he's in the Inverness +Rangers--often says that no one could be funkier than he on going into +action; but that," she continued, her face aglow, "didn't prevent his +being ever so many times mentioned in despatches and getting his D. S. +O." + +"Please don't put me into that class--" + +"No; I won't. After all a soldier couldn't really funk things, because +he's got everything to back him up. But you haven't. And when I think of +you sitting here all by yourself, and expecting that great big rich Mr. +Brokenshire and Ethel, and all of them, to come to your terms--" + +To get away from a view of my situation that both consoled and +embarrassed me, I said: + +"Thank you, Lady Cecilia, very, very much; but it isn't what you meant +to say when you began, is it?" + +With some confusion she admitted that it wasn't. + +"Only," she went on, "that isn't worth while now." + +A hint in her tone impelled me to insist. + +"It may be. You don't know. Please tell me what it was." + +"But what's the use? It was only something Ethel Rossiter said--and she +was wrong." + +"What makes you so sure she was wrong?" + +"Because I am. I can see." She added, reluctantly, "Ethel thought there +was some one--some one besides Hugh--" + +"And what if there was?" + +Though startled by the challenge, she stood her ground. + +"I don't believe in people making each other any more unhappy than they +can help, do you?" She had a habit of screwing up her small gray-green +eyes into two glimmering little slits of light, with an effect of +shyness showing through amusement and _diablerie_. "We're both girls, +aren't we? I'm twenty, and you can't be much older. And so I +thought--that is, I thought at first--that if you had any one else in +mind, there'd be no use in our making each other miserable--but I see +you haven't; and so--" + +"And so," I laughed, nervously, "the race must be to the swift and the +battle to the strong. Is that it?" + +"N-no; not exactly. What I was going to say is that since--since there's +nobody but Hugh--you won't be offended with me, will you?--I won't step +in--" + +It was my turn to be enthusiastic. + +"But that's what I call sporting!" + +"Oh no, it isn't. I haven't seen Hugh for two or three years, and +whatever little thing there was--" + +I strained forward across my desk. I know my eyes must have been +enormous. + +"But was there--was there ever--anything?" + +"Oh no; not at all. He--he never noticed me. I was only in the +school-room, and he was a grown-up young man. If his father and mine +hadn't been great friends--and got plans into their heads--Laura and +Janet used to poke fun at me about it. And then we rode together and +played tennis and golf, and so--but it was all--just nothing. You know +how silly a girl of seventeen can be. It was nonsense. I only want you +to know, in case he ever says anything about it--but then he never +will--men see so little--I only want you to know that that's the way I +feel about it--and that I didn't come over here to-- I don't say that if +in your case there had been any one else--but I see there isn't--Ethel +Rossiter is wrong--and so if I can do anything for Hugh and yourself +with the Brokenshires. I--I want you to make use of me." + +With a dignity oddly in contrast to this stammering confession, which +was what it was, she rose to her feet as Mrs. Billing came back to us. + +The hook-nosed face was somber. Curiosity as to other people's business +had for once given place in the old lady's thoughts to meditations that +turned inward. I suppose that in some perverse fashion of her own she +loved her daughter, and suffered from her unhappiness. There was enough +in this room to prove to her how cruelly mere self-seeking can overreach +itself and ruin what it tries to build. + +"Well, what are you talking about?" she snapped, as she approached us. +"Hugh Brokenshire, I'll bet a dime." + +"Fancy!" was the stroke with which the English girl, smiling dimly, +endeavored to counter this attack. + +Mrs. Billing hardly paused as she made her way toward the door. + +"Don't let her have him," she threw at Lady Cecilia. "He's not good +enough for her. She's my kind," she went on, poking at me with her +lorgnette. "Needs a man with brains. Come along, Cissie. Don't mind what +she says. You grab Hugh the first chance you get. She'll have bigger +fish to fry. Do come along. We've had enough of this." + +Lady Cissie and I shook hands with the over-acted listlessness of two +daughters of the Anglo-Saxon race trying to carry off an emotional +crisis as if they didn't know what it meant. But after she had gone I +thought of her--I thought of her with her Limoges-enamel coloring, her +luscious English voice, her English air of race, her dignity, her style, +her youth, her naivete, her combination of all the qualities that make +human beings distinguished, because there is nothing else for them to +be. I dragged myself to the Venetian mirror and looked into it. With my +plain gray frock, my dark complexion, and my simply arranged hair. I was +a poor little frump whom not even the one man in five hundred could find +attractive. I wondered how Hugh could be such a fool. I asked myself if +he could go on being such a fool much longer. And with the thought that +he would--and again with the thought that he wouldn't--I surprised +myself by bursting into tears. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + +In similar small happenings April passed and we had reached the middle +of May. Easter and the opera were over; as the warm weather was coming +on people were already leaving town for the country, the seaside or +Europe. Personally, I had no plans beyond spending the month of August, +which Mr. Grainger informed me I was to have "off," in making a visit to +my old home in Halifax. Hugh had ceased to talk of immediate marriage, +since he had all he could do to live on what he earned in selling bonds. + +He had taken that job when Mildred could lend him no more without +dipping into funds that had been his father's. He was still resolute on +that point. He was resolute, too, in seeing nothing in the charms of +Cissie Boscobel. He hated red hair, he said, making no allowance for the +umber-red of Australian gold, and where I saw the lights of Limoges +enamel he found no more than the garish tints of a chromolithograph. +When I hinted that he might be the hero of some young romance on +Cissie's part, he was contented to say "R-rot!" with a contemptuous roll +of the first consonant. + +Larry Strangways was industrious, happy, and prospering. He enjoyed the +men with whom his work brought him into contact, and I gathered that his +writing for daily, weekly, and monthly publications was bringing him +into view as a young man of originality and power. From himself I +learned that his small inherited capital was doubling and tripling and +quadrupling itself through association with Stacy Grainger's +enterprises. For Stacy Grainger himself he continued to feel an +admiration not free from an uneasiness, with regard to which he made no +direct admissions. + +Of Mrs. Brokenshire I was seeing less. Either she had grown used to +doing without her lover or she was meeting him in some other way. She +still came to see me as often as once a week, but she was not so +emotional or excitable. She might have been more affectionate than +before, and yet it was with a dignity that gradually put me at a +distance. + +Cissie Boscobel I didn't meet during the whole of the six weeks except +in the company of Mrs. Rossiter. That happened when once or twice I went +to the house to see Gladys when she was suffering from colds, or when my +former employer drove me round the Park. Just once I got the opportunity +to hint that Lady Cissie hadn't taken Hugh from me as yet, to which Mrs. +Rossiter replied that that was obviously because she didn't want him. + +We were all, therefore, at a standstill, or moving so slowly that I +couldn't perceive that we were moving at all, when in the middle of a +May forenoon I was summoned to the telephone. I was not surprised to +find Mr. Strangways at the other end, since he used any and every excuse +to call me up; but his words struck me as those of a man who had taken +leave of his senses. He plunged into them without any of the usual +morning greetings or preliminary remarks. + +"Are you game to go to Boston by the five-o'clock train to-day?" + +I naturally said, "What?" but I said it with some emphasis. + +He repeated the question a little more anxiously. + +"Could you be ready to go to Boston by the five-o'clock train this +afternoon?" + +"Why should I be?" + +He seemed to hesitate before replying. + +"You'd know that," he said at last, "when you got on the train." + +"Is it a joke?" I inquired, with a light laugh. + +"No; it's not a joke. It's serious. I want you to take that train and +go." + +"But what for?" + +"I've told you you'd know that when you got on the train--or before you +had gone very far." + +"And do you think that's information enough?" + +"It will be information enough for you when I say that a great deal may +depend on your doing as I ask." + +I raised a new objection. + +"How can I go when I've my work to attend to here?" + +"You must be ready to give that up. If any one makes any trouble, you +must say you've resigned the position." + +As far as was possible over the wire I got the impression of earnestness +on his part and perhaps excitement; but I was not yet satisfied. + +"What shall I do when I get to Boston? Where shall I go?" + +"You'll see. You'll know. You'll have to act for yourself. Trust your +own judgment as I trust it." + +"But, Mr. Strangways, I don't understand a bit," I was beginning to +protest, when he broke in on me. + +"Oh, don't you see? It will all explain itself as you go on. I can't +tell you about it in advance. I don't know. All I can say is that +whatever happens you'll be needed, and if you're needed you'll be able +to play the game." + +He went on with further directions. It would be possible to take my seat +in the train at twenty minutes before the hour of departure. I was to be +early on the spot so as to be among the first to be in my place. I was +to take nothing but a suit-case; but I was to put into it enough to last +me for a week, or even for a week or two. I was to be prepared for +roughing it, if necessary, or for anything else that developed. He would +send me my ticket within an hour and provide me with plenty of money. + +"But what is it?" I implored again. "It sounds like spying, or the +secret service, or something melodramatic." + +"It's none of those things. Just be ready. Wait where you are till you +get your ticket and the money." + +"Will you bring them yourself?" + +"No. I can't; I'm too busy. I'm calling from a pay-station. Don't ring +me up for any more questions. Just do as I've asked you, and I know +you'll not regret it--not as long as you live." + +He put up the receiver, leaving me bewildered. My ignorance was such +that speculation was shut out. I kept saying to myself: "It must be +this," or, "It must be that," but with no conviction in my guesses. One +dreadful suspicion came to me, but I firmly put it away. + +A little after twelve a special messenger arrived, bringing my ticket +and five hundred dollars in bank-notes. I knew then that I was in for a +genuine adventure. At one I put on my hat and coat, locked the door +behind me, and went off to my hotel. Mentally I was leaving a work to +which, from certain points of view, I was sorry to say good-by, but I +could afford no backward looks. + +At the hotel I packed my belongings and left them so that they could be +sent after me in case I should not return. I might be back the next +morning; but then I might never come back at all. I thought of those +villagers who from idle curiosity followed the carriage of Louis XVI. +and Marie Antoinette as it drove out of Varennes, some of them never to +see their native town again till they had been dragged over half the +battle-fields of Europe. Like them I had no prevision as to where I was +going or what was to become of me. I knew only--gloatingly, and with a +kind of glory in the fact--that I was going at the call of Larry +Strangways, to do his bidding, because he believed in me. But that +thought, too, I tried to put out of my mind. In as far as it was in my +mind I did my best to express it in terms of prose, seeing myself not as +the heroine of a mysterious romance--a view to which I was inclined--but +as a practical business woman, competent, up-to-date, and unafraid. I +was afraid, mortally afraid, and I was neither up-to-date nor competent; +but the fiction sustained me while I packed my trunks and sent a +telegram to Hugh. + +This last I did only when it was too late for him to answer or intercept +me. + +"Called suddenly out of town," I wrote. "May lead to a new place. Will +write or wire as soon as possible." Having sent this off at half past +four, I took a taxicab for the station. + +My instructions were so far carried out successfully that, with a +colored porter wearing a red cap to precede me, I was the first to pass +the barrier leading to the train, and the first to take my seat in the +long, narrow parlor-car. My chair was two from the end toward the +entrance and exit. Once enthroned within its upholstered depths I +watched for strange occurrences. + +But I watched in vain. For a time I saw nothing but the straight, empty +cavern of the car. Then a colored porter, as like to my own as one pea +to another, came puffing his way in, dragging valises and other +impedimenta, and followed by an old gentleman and his wife. These the +porter installed in chairs toward the middle of the car, and, touching +his cap on receipt of his tip, made hastily for the door. Similar +arrivals came soon after that, with much stowing of luggage into +overhead racks, and kisses, and injunctions as to conduct, and +farewells. Within my range of vision were two elderly ladies, a smartly +dressed young man, a couple in the disillusioned, surly stage, a couple +who had recently been married, a clergyman, a youth of the cheap +sporting type. To one looking for the solution of a mystery the material +was not promising. + +The three chairs immediately in front of mine remained unoccupied. I +kept my eye on them, of course, and presently got some reward. Shortly +before the train pulled out of the station a shadow passed me which I +knew to be that of Larry Strangways. He went on to the fourth seat, +counting mine as the first, and, having reached it, turned round and +looked at me. He looked at me gravely, with no sign of recognition +beyond a shake of the head. I understood then that I was not to +recognize him, and that in the adventure, however it turned out, we were +to be as strangers. + +One more thing I saw. He had never been so pale or grim or determined in +all the time I had known him. I had hardly supposed that it was in him +to be so determined, so grim, or so pale. I gathered that he was taking +our mission more to heart than I had supposed, and that, prompt in +action as I had been, I was considering it too flippantly. Inwardly I +prayed for nerve to support him, and for that presence of mind which +would tell me what to do when there was anything to be done. + +Perhaps it increased my zeal that he was so handsome. Straight and slim +and upright, his features were of that lean, blond, regular type I used +to consider Anglo-Saxon, but which, now that I have seen it in so many +Scandinavians, I have come to ascribe to the Norse strain in our blood. +The eyes were direct; the chin was firm; the nose as straight as an +ancient Greek's. The relatively small mouth was adorned by a relatively +small mustache, twisted up at the ends, of the color of the coffee-bean, +and, to my admiring feminine appreciation, blooming on his face like a +flower. + +His neat spring suit was also of the color of the coffee-bean, and so +was his soft felt hat. In his shirt there were lines of tan and violet, +and tan and violet appeared in the tie beneath which a soft collar was +pinned with a gold safety pin. The yellow gloves that men have affected +of late years gave a pleasant finish to this costume, which was quite +complete when he pulled from his bag an English traveling-cap of several +shades of tan and put it on. He also took out a book, stretching himself +in his chair in such a way that the English traveling-cap was all I +could henceforth see of his personality. + +I give these details because they entered into the mingled unwillingness +and zest with which I found myself dragged on an errand to which I had +no clue. Still less had I a clue when the train began to move, and I had +nothing but the view of the English traveling-cap to bear me company. +But no, I had one other detail. Before sitting down Mr. Strangways had +carefully separated his own hand-luggage from that of the person who +would be behind him, and which included an ulster, a walking-stick, and +a case of golf-clubs. I inferred, therefore, that the wayfarer who owned +one of the two chairs between Mr. Strangways and myself must be a man. +The chair directly in front of mine remained empty. + +As we passed into the tunnel my mind lashed wildly about in search of +explanations, the only one I could find being that Larry Strangways was +kidnapping me. On arriving in Boston I might find myself confronted by a +marriage license and a clergyman. If so, I said to myself, with an +extraordinary thrill, there would be nothing for it but submission to +this _force majeure_, though I had to admit that the averted head, the +English traveling-cap, and the intervening ulster, walking-stick, and +golf-clubs worked against my theory. I was dreaming in this way when the +train emerged from the tunnel and stopped so briefly at One Hundred and +Twenty-fifth Street that, considering it afterward, I concluded that the +pause had been arranged for. It was just long enough for an odd little +bundle of womanhood to be pulled and shoved on the car and thrown into +the seat immediately in front of mine. I choose my verbs with care, +since they give the effect produced on me. The little woman, who was +swathed in black veils and clad in a long black shapeless coat, seemed +not to act of her own volition and to be more dead than alive. The +porter who had brought her in flung down her two or three bags and +waited, significantly, though the train was already creeping its way +onward. She was plainly unused to fending for herself, and only when, as +a reminder, the man had touched his hat a second time did it occur to +her what she had to do. Hastily unfastening a small bag, she pulled out +a handful of money and thrust it at him. The man grinned and was gone, +after which she sagged back helplessly into her seat, the satchel open +in her lap. + +That dreadful suspicion which had smitten me earlier in the day came +back again, but the new-comer was so stiflingly wrapped up that even I +could not be sure. She reminded me of nothing so much as of the veiled +Begum of Bhopal as she sat in the durbar with the other Indian +potentates, her head done up in a bag, as seen in the pictures in the +illustrated London papers. For a lady who wished to pass unperceived it +was perfect--for every eye in the car was turned on her. I myself +studied her, of course, searching for something to confirm my fears, but +finding nothing I could take as convincing. For the matter of that, as +she sat huddled in the enormous chair I could see little beyond a +swathing of veils round a close-fitting hat and the folds of the long +black coat. The easiest inference was that she might be some poor old +thing whom her relatives were anxious to be rid of, which was, I think, +the conclusion most of our neighbors drew. Speaking of neighbors, I had +noticed that in spite of the disturbance caused by this curious +entrance, Larry Strangways had not turned his head. + +I could only sit, therefore, and wait for enlightenment, or for an +opportunity. Both came when, some half-hour later, the ticket-collectors +passed slowly down the aisle. Other passengers got ready for them in +advance, but the little begum in front of me did nothing. When at last +the collectors were before her she came to herself with a start. + +She came to herself with a start, seizing her satchel awkwardly and +spilling its contents on the floor. The tickets came out, and some +money. The collectors picked up the tickets and began to pencil and tear +them; the youth of the cheap sporting type and I went after the coins. +Since I was a young woman and the lady with her head in a bag might be +taken for an old one, I had no difficulty in securing his harvest, which +he handed over to me with an ingratiating leer. Returning the leer as +much in his own style as I could render it, I offered the handful of +silver and copper to its owner. To do this I stood as directly as might +be in front of her, and when, inadvertently, she raised her head I tried +to look her in the eyes. + +I couldn't see them. The shimmer I caught behind the two or three veils +might have been any one's eyes. But in the motion of the hand that took +the money, and in the silvery tinkle of the voice that made itself as +low as possible in murmuring the words, "Thank you!" I couldn't be +mistaken. It was enough. If I hadn't seen her she at least had seen me, +and so I went back to my seat. + +I had got the first part of my revelation. With the aid of the ulster, +the walking-stick, and the golf-clubs I could guess at the rest. I knew +now why Larry Strangways wanted me there, but I didn't know what I was +to do. By myself I could do nothing. Unless the little begum took the +initiative I shouldn't know where to begin. I could hardly tear off a +disguise she had chosen to assume, nor could I take it for granted that +she was not on legitimate business. + +But she had seen me, and there was something in that. If the owner of +the vacant chair turned up he, too, would see me, and he wouldn't wear a +veil. We should look each other in the eyes, and he would know that I +knew what he was about to do. The situation would not be pleasant for +me; but it would conceivably be much less pleasant for anybody else. + +I waited, therefore, watching the beautiful green country go tearing by. +The smiling freshness of spring was over the hillsides on the left, +while the setting sun gilded the tiny headlands on the right and turned +the rapid succession of creeks and inlets and marshy pools into sheets +of orange and red. Fire illumined the windows of many a passing house, +to be extinguished instantaneously, and touched with occasional flames +the cold spring-tide blue of the sea. Clumps of forsythia were in +blossom, and here and there an apple-tree held out toward the sun a +branch of early flowers. + +When the train stopped at New Haven I was afraid that the owner of the +ulster and the golf-clubs would appear, and that my work, whatever it +was to be, would be rendered the more difficult. But no new arrival +entered. On the other hand, the passengers began to thin out as the time +came for going to the dining-car. In the matter of food I determined to +stay at my post if I died of starvation, especially on seeing that the +English traveling-cap was equally courageous. + +Twilight gradually filtered into the world outside; the marshes, inlets, +and creeks grew dim. Dim was the long, burnished line of the Sound, +above which I could soon make out a sprinkling of wan yellow stars. Wan +yellow lights appeared in windows where no curtains were drawn, and what +a few minutes earlier had been twilight became quickly the night. It was +the wistful time, the homesick, heart-searching time. If the little lady +in front of me were to have qualms as to what she was doing they would +come then. + +And indeed as I watched her it seemed to me that she inserted her +handkerchief under her series of coverings as if to wipe away a tear. +Presently she lifted two unsteady hands and began to untie her outer +veil. When it came to finding the pins by which it was adjusted she +fumbled so helplessly that I took it on myself to lean forward with the +words, "Won't you allow me?" I could do this without moving round to +where I should have been obliged to look her in the face; and it was so +when I helped her take off the veil underneath. + +"I'm smothering," she said, very much as it might have been said by a +little child in distress. + +She wore still another veil, but only that which was ordinarily attached +to her hat. The car being not very brightly lighted, and most of our +fellow-travelers having gone to dinner, she probably thought she had +little to fear. As she gave no sign of recognition on my rendering my +small services I subsided again into my chair. + +But I knew she was as conscious of my presence as I was of hers. It was +not wholly surprising, then, that some twenty minutes later she should +swing round in the revolving-chair and drop all disguises. She did it +with the words, tearfully yet angrily spoken: + +"What are you doing here?" + +"I'm going to Boston, Mrs. Brokenshire," I replied, meekly. "Are you +doing the same?" + +"You know what I'm doing, and you've come to spy on me." + +There is something about the wrath of the sweet, mild, gentle creature, +not easily provoked, which is far more terrible than the rage of an +irascible old man accustomed to furies. I quailed before it now, but not +so much that I couldn't outwardly keep my composure. + +"If I know what you're doing, Mrs. Brokenshire," I said, gently, "it +isn't from any information received beforehand. I didn't know you were +to be on this train till you got in; and I haven't been sure it was you +till this minute." + +"I've a right to do as I please," she declared, hoarsely, "without +having people to dog me." + +"Do I strike you as the sort of person who'd do that? You've had some +opportunity of knowing me; and have I ever done anything for which you +didn't first give me leave? If I'm here this evening and you're here, +too, it's pure accident--as far as I'm concerned." I added, with some +deepening of the tone, and speaking slowly so that she should get the +meaning of the words: "I'll only venture to surmise that accidents of +that kind don't happen for nothing." + +I could just make out her swimming eyes as they stared at me through the +remaining veil, which was as black and thick as a widow's. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Wouldn't that depend on what you mean?" + +"If you think you're going to stop me--" + +"Dear Mrs. Brokenshire, I don't think anything at all. How can I? We're +both going to Boston. By a singular set of circumstances we're seated +side by side on the same train. What can I see more in the situation +than that?" + +"You do see more." + +"But I'm trying not to. If you insist on betraying more, when perhaps +I'd rather you wouldn't, well, that won't be my fault, will it?" + +"Because I've given you my confidence once or twice isn't a reason why +you should take liberties all the rest of your life." + +To this, for a minute, I made no reply. + +"That hurts me," I said at last, "but I believe that when you've +considered it you'll see that you've been unjust to me." + +"You've suspected me ever since I knew you." + +"I've only suspected you of a sweetness and kindness and goodness which +I don't think you've discovered in yourself. I've never said anything of +you, and never thought anything, but what I told Mr. Brokenshire two +months ago, that you seem to me the loveliest thing God ever made. That +you shouldn't live up to the beauty of your character strikes me as +impossible. I'll admit that I think that; and if you call it +suspicion--" + +Her anger began to pass into a kind of childish rebellion. + +"You've always talked to me about impossible things--" + +"I wasn't aware of it. One has to have standards of life, and do one's +best to live up to them." + +"Why should I do my best to live up to them when other people-- Look at +Madeline Pyne, and a lot of women I know!" + +"Do you think we can ever judge by other people, or take their actions +as an example for our own? No one person can be more bound to do right +than another; and yet when it comes to doing wrong it might easily be +more serious for you than for Mrs. Pyne or for me." + +"I don't see why it should be." + +"Because you have a national position, one might even say an +international position, and Mrs. Pyne hasn't, and neither have I. If we +do wrong, only our own little circles have to know about it, and the +harm we can do is limited; but if you do wrong it hurts the whole +country." + +"I must say I don't see that." + +"You're the wife of a man who might be called a national institution--" + +"There are just as important men in the country as he." + +"Not many--let us say, at a venture, a hundred. Think of what it means +to be one of the hundred most conspicuous women among a population of a +hundred millions. The responsibility must be tremendous." + +"I've never thought of myself as having any particular +responsibility--not any more than anybody else." + +"But, of course, you have. Whatever you do gets an added significance +from the fact that you're Mrs. Howard Brokenshire. When, for example, +you came to me that day among the rocks at Newport, your kindness was +the more wonderful for the simple reason that you were who you were. We +can't get away from those considerations. When you do right, right seems +somehow to be made more beautiful; and when you do wrong--" + +"I don't think it's fair to put me in a position like that." + +"I don't put you in that position. Life does it. You were born to be +high up. When you fall, therefore--" + +"Don't talk about falling." + +"But it would be a fall, wouldn't it? Don't you remember, some ten or +twelve years ago, how a Saxon crown princess left her home and her +husband? Well, all I mean is that because of her position her story rang +through the world. However one might pity unhappiness, or sympathize +with a miserable love, there was something in it that degraded her +country and her womanhood. I suppose the poor thing's inability to live +up to a position of honor was a blow at human nature. Don't you think +that that was what we felt? And in your case--" + +"You mustn't compare me with her." + +"No; I don't--exactly. All I mean is that if--if you do what--what I +think you've started out to do--" + +She raised her head defiantly. + +"And I'm going to." + +"Then by the day after to-morrow there will not be a newspaper in the +country that won't be detailing the scandal. It will be the talk of +every club and every fireside between the Atlantic and the Pacific, and +Mexico and Montreal. It will be in the papers of London and Paris and +Rome and Berlin, and there'll be a week in which you'll be the most +discussed person in the world." + +"I've been that already--almost--when Mr. Brokenshire made his attack in +the Stock Exchange on--" + +"But this would be different. In this case you'd be pointed at--it's +what it would amount to--as a woman who had gone over to all those evil +forces in civilization that try to break down what the good forces are +building up. You'd do like that unhappy crown princess, you'd strike a +blow at your country and at all womanhood. There are thousands of poor +tempted wives all over Europe and America who'll say: 'Well, if she can +do such things--'" + +"Oh, stop!" + +I stopped. It seemed to me that for the time being I had given her +enough to think about. We sat silent, therefore, looking out at the +rushing dark. People who drifted back from the dining-car glanced at us, +but soon were dozing or absorbed in books. + +We were nearing New London when she pointed to one of her bags and asked +me if I would mind opening it. I welcomed the request as indicating a +return of friendliness. Having extracted a parcel of sandwiches, she +unfolded the napkin in which they were wrapped and held them out to me. +I took a pate de foie-gras and followed her example in nibbling it. On +my own responsibility I summoned the porter and asked him to bring a +bottle of spring-water and two glasses. + +"I guess the old lady's feelin' some better," he confided, when he had +carried out the order. + +We stopped at New London, and went on again. Having eaten three or four +sandwiches, I declined any more, folding the remainder in the napkin and +stowing them away. The simple meal we had shared together restored +something of our old-time confidence. + +"I'm going to do it," she sighed, as I put the bag back in its place. +"He's--he's somewhere on the train--in the smoking-car, I suppose. +He's--he's not to come for me till--till we're getting near the Back Bay +Station in Boston." + +I brought out my question simply, though I had been pondering it for +some time. "Who'll tell Mr. Brokenshire?" + +She moved uncomfortably. + +"I don't know. I haven't made any arrangements. He's in Newport for one +or two nights, seeing to some small changes in the house. I--I had to +take the opportunity while he was away." As if with a sudden inspiration +she glanced round from staring out into the dark. "Would you do it?" + +I shook my head. + +"I couldn't. I've never seen a man struck dead, and--" + +She swung her chair so as to face me more directly. + +"Why," she asked, trembling--"why do you say that?" + +"Because, if I told him, it's what I should have to look on at." + +She began wringing her hands. + +"Oh no, you wouldn't." + +"But I should. It would be his death-sentence at the least. It's true he +has probably received that already--" + +"Oh, what are you saying? What are you talking about?" + +"Only of what every one can see. He's a stricken man--you've told me so +yourself." + +"Yes, but I said it only about Hugh. Lots of men have to go through +troubles on account of their children." + +"But when they do they can generally get comfort from their wives." + +She seemed to stiffen. + +"It's not my fault if he can't." + +"No, of course not. But the fact remains that he doesn't--and perhaps +it's the greatest fact of all. He adores you. His children may give him +a great deal of anxiety but that's the sort of thing any father looks +for and can endure. Only you're not his child; you're his wife. +Moreover, you're the wife whom he worships with a slavish idolatry. +Everything that nature and time and the world and wealth have made of +him he gathers together and lays it down at your feet, contented if +you'll only give him back a smile. You may think it pitiful--" + +She shuddered. + +"I think it terrible--for me." + +"Well, I may think so, too, but it's his life we're talking of. His +tenure of that"--I looked at her steadily--"isn't very certain as it is, +do you think? You know the condition of his heart--you've told me +yourself--and as for his nervous system, we've only to look at his face +and his poor eye." + +"I didn't do that. It's his whole life--" + +"But his whole life culminates in you. It works up to you, and you +represent everything he values. When he learns that you've despised his +love and dishonored his name--" + +Her foot tapped the floor impatiently. + +"You mustn't say things like that to me." + +"I'm only saying them, dear Mrs. Brokenshire, so that you'll know how +they sound. It's what every one else will be saying in a day or two. You +can't be what--what you'll be to-morrow, and still keep any one's +respect. And so," I hurried on, as she was about to protest, "when he +hears what you've done, you won't merely have broken his heart, you'll +have killed him just as much as if you'd pulled out a revolver and shot +him." + +She swung back to the window again. Her foot continued to tap the floor; +her fingers twisted and untwisted like writhing living things. I could +see her bosom rise and fall rapidly; her breath came in short, hard +gasps. When I wasn't expecting it she rounded on me again, with flames +in her eyes like those in a small tigress's. + +"You're saying all that to frighten me; but--" + +"I'm saying it because it's true. If it frightens you--" + +"But it doesn't." + +"Then I've done neither good nor harm." + +"I've a right to be happy." + +"Certainly, if you can be happy this way." + +"And I can." + +"Then there's no more to be said. We can only agree with you. If you can +be happy when you've Mr. Brokenshire on your mind, as you must have +whether he's alive or dead--and if you can be happy when you've +desecrated all the things your people and your country look to a woman +in your position to uphold--then I don't think any one will say you +nay." + +"Well, why shouldn't I be happy?" she demanded, as if I was withholding +from her something that was her right. "Other women--" + +"Yes, Mrs. Brokenshire, other women besides you have tried the +experiment of Anna Karenina--" + +"What's that?" + +I gave her the gist of Tolstoi's romance--the woman who is married to an +old man and runs away with a young one, living to see him weary of the +position in which she places him, and dying by her own act. + +As she listened attentively, I went on before she could object to my +parable. + +"It all amounts to the same thing. There's no happiness except in right; +and no right that doesn't sooner or later--sooner rather than later--end +in happiness. You've told me more than once you didn't believe that; and +if you don't I can't help it." + +I fell back in my seat, because for the moment I was exhausted. It was +not merely the actual situation that took the strength out of me, but +what I dreaded when the man came for his prize from the smoking-car. I +might count on Larry Strangways to aid me then, but as yet he had not +recognized my struggle by so much as glancing round. + +Nor had I known till this minute how much I cared for the little +creature before me, or how deeply I pitied the man she was deserting. I +could see her as happier conditions would have made her, and him as he +might have become if his nature had not been warped by pride. Any +impulse to strike back at him had long ago died within me. It might as +well have died, since I never had the nerve to act on it, even when I +had the chance. + +She turned on me again, with unexpected fierceness. + +"It doesn't matter whether I believe all those things or not--now. It's +too late. I've left home. I've--I've gone away with him." + +Though I felt like a spent prize-fighter forced back into the ring, I +raised myself in my chair. I even smiled, dimly, in an effort to be +encouraging. + +"You've left home and you've gone away; but you won't have gone away +with him till--till you've actually joined him." + +"I've actually joined him already. His things are there beside that +chair." She nodded backward. "By the time we've passed Providence he'll +be--he'll be getting ready to come for me." + +I said, more significantly than I really understood: "But we haven't +passed Providence as yet." + +To this she seemingly paid no attention, nor did I give it much myself. + +"When he comes," she exclaimed, lyrically, "it will be like a +marriage--" + +I ventured much as I interrupted. + +"No, it will never be like a marriage. There'll be too much that's +unholy in it all for anything like a true marriage ever to become +possible, not even if death or divorce--and it will probably be the one +or the other--were to set you free." + +That she found these words arresting I could tell by the stunned way in +which she stared. + +"Death or divorce!" she echoed, after long waiting. "He--he may divorce +me quietly--I hope he will--but--but he won't--he won't die." + +"He'll die if you kill him," I declared, grimly. I continued to be grim. +"He may die before long, whether you kill him or not--the chances are +that he will. But living or dead, as I've said already, he'll stand +between you and anything you look for as happiness--after to-night." + +She threw herself back, into the depths of her chair and moaned. Luckily +there was no one near enough to observe the act. As we talked in low +tones we could not be heard above the rattle of the train, and I think I +passed as a companion or trained nurse in attendance on a nervous +invalid. + +"Oh, what's the use?" she exclaimed at last, in a fit of desperation. +"I've done it. It's too late. Every one will know I've gone away--even +if I get out at Providence." + +I am sorry to have to admit that the suggestion of getting out at +Providence startled me. I had been so stupid as not to think of it, even +when I had made the remark that we had not as yet passed that town. All +I had foreseen was the struggle at the end of the journey, when Larry +Strangways and I should have to fight for this woman with the powers of +darkness, as in medieval legends angels and devils fought over a +contested soul. + +I took up the idea with an enthusiasm I tried to conceal beneath a smile +of engaging sweetness. + +"They may know that you've gone away; but they can also know that you've +gone away with me." + +"With you? You're going to Boston." + +"I could wait till to-morrow. If you wanted to get off at Providence I +could do it, too." + +"But I don't want to. I couldn't let him expect to find me here--and +then discover that I wasn't." + +"He would be disappointed at that, of course," I reasoned, "but he +wouldn't take it as the end of all things. If you got off at Providence +there would be nothing irrevocable in that step, whereas there would be +in your going on. You could go away with him later, if you found you +had to do it; but if you continue to-night you can never come back +again. Don't you see? Isn't it worth turning over in your mind a second +time--especially as I'm here to help you? If you're meant to be a +Madeline Pyne or an Anna Karenina, you'll get another opportunity." + +"Oh no, I sha'n't," she sobbed. "If I don't go on to-night, he'll never +ask me again." + +"He may never ask you again in this way; but isn't it possible that +there may eventually be other ways? Don't make me put that into plainer +words. Just wait. Let life take charge of it." I seized both her hands. +"Darling Mrs. Brokenshire, you don't know yourself. You're too fine to +be ruined; you're too exquisite to be just thrown away. Even the hungry, +passionate love of the man in the smoking-car must see that and know it. +If he comes back here and finds you gone--or imagines that you never +came at all--he'll only honor and love you the more, and go on wanting +you still. Come with me. Let us go. We can't be far from Providence now. +I can take care of you. I know just what we ought to do. I didn't come +here to sit beside you of my own free will; but since I am here doesn't +it seem to you as if--as if I had been sent?" + +As she was sobbing too unrestrainedly to say anything in words, I took +the law into my own hands. The porter had already begun dusting the dirt +from the passengers who were to descend at Providence on to those who +were going to Boston. Making my way up to him, I had the inspiration to +say: + +"The old lady I'm with isn't quite so well, and we're going to stop here +for the night." + +He grinned, with a fine show of big white teeth. + +"All right, lady; I'll take care of you. Cranky old bunch, ain't she? +Handle a good many like that between Boston and Ne' Yawk." + +Mrs. Brokenshire made no resistance when I fastened the lighter of her +two veils about her head, folding the other and putting it away. Neither +did she resist when I drew her cloak about her and put on my own coat. +But as the train drew into Providence station and she struggled to her +feet in response to my touch on her arm, I was obliged to pull and drag +and push her, till she was finally lifted to the platform. + +Before leaving the car, however, I took time to glance at the English +traveling-cap. I noted then what I had noted throughout the journey. Not +once did the head beneath it turn in my direction. Of whatever had +happened since leaving the main station in New York Larry Strangways +could say that he was wholly unaware. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + +What happened on the train after Mrs. Brokenshire and I had left it I +heard from Mr. Strangways. Having got it from him in some detail, I can +give it in my own words more easily than in his. + +I may be permitted to state here how much and how little of the romance +between Mr. Grainger and Mrs. Brokenshire Larry Strangways knew. He knew +next to nothing--but he inferred a good deal. From facts I gave him once +or twice in hours of my own perplexity he had been able to get light on +certain matters which had come under his observation as Mr. Grainger's +confidential man, and to which otherwise he would have had no key. He +inferred, for instance, that Mrs. Brokenshire wrote daily to her lover, +and that occasionally, at long intervals, her lover could safely write +to her. He inferred that when their meetings had ended in one place they +were taken up discreetly at another, but only with difficulty and +danger. He inferred that the man chafed against this restraint, and as +he had got out of it with other women, he was planning to get out of it +again. I understood that had Mrs. Brokenshire been the only such +instance in Stacy Grainger's career Larry Strangways might not have felt +impelled to interfere; but seeing from the beginning that his employer +"had a weakness," he felt it only right to help me save a woman for whom +he knew I cared. + +I have never wholly understood why he believed that the situation had +worked up to a crisis on that particular day; but having watched the +laying of the mine, he could hardly do anything but expect the explosion +on the application of the match. + +When Mr. Grainger had bidden him that morning go to the station and +secure a drawing-room, or, if that was impossible, two parlor-car seats, +on the five-o'clock for Boston, he had reasons for following the course +of which I have briefly given the lines. No drawing-room was available, +because any that was not sold he bought for himself in order to set the +stage according to his own ideas. How far he was justified in this will +be a matter of opinion. Some may commend him, while others will accuse +him of unwarrantable interference. My own judgment being of no +importance I hold it in suspense, giving the incidents just as they +occurred. + +It must be evident that as Mr. Strangways didn't know what was to happen +he could have no plan of action. All he could arrange for was that he +and I should be on the spot. As it is difficult for guilty lovers to +elope while acquaintances are looking on, he was resolved that they +should find elopement difficult. For anything else he relied on +chance--and on me. Chance favored him in keeping Stacy Grainger out of +sight, in putting Mrs. Brokenshire next to me, and in making the action, +such as it was, run smoothly. Had I known that he relied on me I should +have been more terrified than I actually was, since I was relying on +him. + +It will be seen, then, that at the moment when Mrs. Brokenshire and I +left the train Larry Strangways had but a vague idea of what had taken +place. He merely conjectured from the swish of skirts that we had gone. +His next idea was, as he phrased it, to make himself scarce on his own +account; but in that his efforts miscarried. + +Hoping to slip into another car and thus avoid a meeting with the +outmanoeuvered lover, he was snapping the clasp of the bag into which he +had thrust his cap when he perceived a tall figure enter the car by the +forward end. To escape recognition he bent his head, pretending to +search for something on the floor. The tall figure passed, but came back +again. It was necessary that he should come back, because of the number +on the ticket, the ulster, the walking-stick, and the golf-clubs. + +What Stacy Grainger saw, of course, was three empty seats, with his +secretary sitting in a fourth. The sight of the three empty seats was +doubtless puzzling enough, but that of the secretary must have been +bewildering. Without turning his head Mr. Strangways knew by his sixth +and seventh senses that his employer was comparing the number on his +ticket with that of the seat, examining the hand-luggage to make sure it +was his own, and otherwise drawing the conclusion that his faculties +hadn't left him. For a private secretary who had ventured so far out of +his line of duty it was a trying minute; but he turned and glanced +upward only on feeling a tap on his shoulder. + +"Hello, Strangways! Is it you? What's the meaning of this?" + +Strangways rose. As the question had been asked in perplexity rather +than in anger, he could answer calmly. + +"The meaning of what, sir?" + +"Where the deuce are you going? What are you doing here?" + +"I'm going to Boston, sir." + +"What for? Who told you you could go to Boston?" + +The tone began to nettle the young man, who was not accustomed to being +spoken to so imperiously before strangers. + +"No one told me, sir. I didn't ask permission. I'm my own master. I've +left your employ." + +"The devil you have! Since when?" + +"Since this morning. I couldn't tell you, because when you left the +office after I'd given you the tickets you didn't come back." + +"And do you call that decent to a man who's-- But no matter!" He pointed +to the seat next his own. "Where's the--the lady who's been sitting +here?" + +Mr. Strangways raised his eyebrows innocently, and shook his head. + +"I haven't seen any lady, sir." + +"What? There must have been a lady here. Was to have got on at One +Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street." + +"Possibly; I only say I didn't see her. As a matter of fact, I've been +reading, and I don't think I looked round during the entire journey. +Hadn't we better not speak so loud?" he suggested, in a lower tone. +"People are listening to us." + +"Oh, let them go to-- Now look here, Strangways," he began again, +speaking softly, but excitedly, "there must be some explanation to +this." + +"Of course there must be; only I can't give it. Perhaps the porter could +tell us. Shall I call him?" + +Mr. Grainger nodded his permission. The colored man with the flashing +teeth came up on the broad grin, showing them. + +"Yep," he replied, in answer to the question: "they was two ladies in +them seats all the way f'um Ne' Yawk." + +"Two ladies?" Mr. Grainger cried, incredulously. + +"Yes, gen'lemen. Two different ladies. The young one she got in at the +Grand Central--fust one in the cyar--and the ole one at a Hundred and +Twenty-fifth Street." + +"Do you mean to say it was an old lady who got in there?" + +"Yep, gen'lemen; ole and cranky. I 'ain't handled 'em no crankier not +since I've bin on this beat. Sick, too. They done get off at Providence, +though they was booked right through to Boston, because the ole lady she +couldn't go no farther." + +Mr. Grainger was not a sleuth-hound, but he did what he could in the way +of verification. + +"Did the young lady wear--wear a veil?" + +The porter scratched his head. + +"Come to think of it she did--one of them there flowery things"--his +forefinger made little whirling designs on his coffee-colored +skin--"what makes a kind of pattern-like all over people's face." + +Because he was frantically seeking a clue, Mr. Grainger blurted out the +foolish question: + +"Was she--pretty?" + +To answer as a connoisseur and as man to man the African took his time. + +"Wa-al, not to say p'ooty, she wasn't--but she'd pa-ss. A little +black-eyed thing, an' awful smart. One of 'em trained nusses like--very +perlite, but a turr'ble boss you could see she'd be, for all she was so +soft-spoken. Had cyare of the ole one, who was what you'd call plumb +crazy." + +"That will do." The trail seemed not worth following any further. +"There's some mistake," he continued, furiously. "She must be in one of +the other cars." + +Like a collie from the leash he bounded off to make new investigations. +In five minutes he was back again, passing up the length of the car and +going on to examine those at the other end of the train. His face as he +returned was livid; his manner, as far as he dared betray himself before +a dozen or twenty spectators, that of a balked wild animal. + +"Strangways," he swore, as he dropped to the arm of his seat, "you're +going to answer for this." + +Strangways replied, composedly: + +"I'm ready to answer for anything I know. You can't expect me to be +responsible for what I don't know anything about." + +He slapped his knee. + +"What are you doing in that particular chair? Even if you're going to +Boston, why aren't you somewhere else?" + +"That's easily explained. You told me to get two tickets by this train. +Knowing that I was to travel by it myself I asked for three. I dare say +it was stupid of me not to think that the propinquity would be open to +objection; but as it's a public conveyance, and there's not generally +anything secret or special about a trip of the kind--" + +"Why in thunder didn't you get a drawing-room, as I told you to?" + +"For the reason I've given--there were none to be had. If you could have +taken me into your confidence a little--But I suppose that wasn't +possible." + +To this there was no response, but a series of muttered oaths that bore +the same relation to soliloquy as a frenzied lion's growl. For some +twenty minutes they sat in the same attitudes, Strangways quiet, +watchful, alert, ready for any turn the situation might take, the other +man stretched on the arm of his chair, indifferent to comfort, cursing +spasmodically, perplexity on his forehead, rage in his eyes, and +something that was folly, futility, and helplessness all over him. + +Almost no further conversation passed between them till they got out in +Boston. In the crowd Strangways endeavored to go off by himself, but +found Mr. Grainger constantly beside him. He was beside him when they +reached the place where taxicabs were called, and ordered his porter to +call one. + +"Get in," he said, then. + +Larry Strangways protested. + +"I'm going to--" + +I must be sufficiently unlady-like to give Mr. Grainger's response just +as it was spoken, because it strikes me as characteristic of men. + +"Oh, hell! Get in. You're coming with me." + +Characteristic of men was the rest of the evening. In spite of what had +happened--and had not happened--Messrs. Grainger and Strangways partook +of an excellent supper together, eating and drinking with appetite, and +smoking their cigars with what looked like an air of tranquillity. +Though the fury of the balked wild animal returned to Stacy Grainger by +fits and starts, it didn't interfere with his relish of his food and +only once did it break its bounds. That was when he struck the arm of +his chair, saying beneath his breath, and yet audibly enough for his +secretary to hear: + +"She funked it--damn her!" + +Larry Strangways then took it on himself to say: + +"I don't know the lady, sir, to whom you refer, nor the reasons she may +have had for funking it, but may I advise you for your own peace of mind +to withdraw the two concluding syllables?" + +A pair of fierce, melancholy eyes rested on him for a second +uncomprehendingly. + +"All right," the crestfallen lover groaned heavily at last. "I may as +well take them back." + +Characteristic of women were my experiences while this was happening. + +Bundled out into the station at Providence no two poor females could +ever have been more forlorn. Standing in the waiting-room with our bags +around us I felt like one of those immigrant women, ignorant of the +customs and language of the country to which they have come, I had +sometimes seen on docks at Halifax. As for Mrs. Brokenshire, she was as +little used to the unarranged as if she had been a royalty. Never before +had she dropped in this way down upon the unexpected; never before had +she been unmet, unwelcomed, and unprepared. She was +_bouleversee_--overturned. Were she falling from an aeroplane she could +not have been more at a loss as to where she was going to alight. Small +wonder was it that she should sit down on one of her own valises and +begin to cry distressfully. + +That, for the minute, I was obliged to disregard. If she had to cry she +must cry. I could hear the train puffing out of the station, and as far +as that went she was safe. My first preoccupations had to do with where +we were to go. + +For this I made inquiries of the porter, who named what he considered to +be the two or three best hotels. I went to the ticket-office and put the +same question, getting approximately the same answer. Then, seeing a +well-dressed man and lady enter the station from a private car, which I +could discern outside, I repeated my investigations, explaining that I +had come from New York with an invalid lady who had not been well enough +to continue the journey. They told me I could make no mistake in going +to one of the houses already named by my previous informants; and so, +gathering up the hand-luggage and Mrs. Brokenshire, we set forth. + +At the hotel we secured an apartment of sitting-room and two bedrooms, +registering our names as "Miss Adare and friend." I ordered the +daintiest supper the house could provide to be served up-stairs, with a +small bottle of champagne to inspirit us; but, unlike the two heroes of +the episode, neither of us could do more than taste food and drink. No +kidnapped princess in a fairy-tale was ever more lovely or pathetic than +Mrs. Brokenshire; no giant ogre more monstrously cruel than myself. Now +that it was done, I figured, both in her eyes and in my own, not as a +savior, but a capturer. + +She had dried her tears, but she had dried them resentfully. As far as +possible she didn't look at me, but when she couldn't help it the +reproach in her glances almost broke my heart. Though I knew I had acted +for the best, she made me feel a bad angel, a marplot, a spoil-sport. I +had thwarted a dream that was as full of bliss as it was of terror, and +reduced the dramatic to the commonplace. Here she was picking at a cold +quail in aspic face to face with me when she might have been. . . . + +I couldn't help seeing myself as she saw me, and when we had finished +what was not a repast I put her to bed with more than the humility of a +serving-maid. You will think me absurd, but when those tender eyes were +turned on me with their silent rebuke, I would gladly have put her back +on the train again and hurried her on to destruction. As the dear thing +sobbed on her pillow I laid my head beside hers and sobbed with her. + +But I couldn't sob very long, as I still had duties to fulfil. It was +of little use to have her under my care at Providence unless those who +would in the end be most concerned as to her whereabouts were to know +the facts--or the approximate facts--from the start. It was a case in +which doubt for a night might be doubt for a lifetime; and so when she +was sufficiently calm for me to leave her I went down-stairs. + +Though I had not referred to it again, I had made a mental note of the +fact that Mr. Brokenshire was at Newport. If at Newport I knew he could +be nowhere but in one hotel. Within fifteen minutes I was talking to him +on the telephone. + +He was plainly annoyed at being called to the instrument so late as half +past ten. When I said I was Alexandra Adare he replied that he didn't +recognize the name. + +"I was formerly nursery governess to your daughter, Mrs. Rossiter," I +explained. "I'm the woman who's refused as yet to marry your son, Hugh." + +"Oh, that person," came the response, uttered wearily. + +"Yes, sir; that person. I must apologize for ringing you up so late; but +I wanted to tell you that Mrs. Brokenshire is here at Providence with +me." + +The symptoms of distress came to me in a series of choking sounds over +the wire. It was a good half-minute before I got the words: + +"What does that mean?" + +"It means that Mrs. Brokenshire is perfectly well in physical condition, +but she's tired and nervous and overwrought." + +I made out that the muffled and strangled voice said: + +"I'll motor up to Providence at once. It's now half past ten. I shall be +there between one and two. What hotel shall I find you at?" + +"Don't come, sir," I pleaded. "I had to tell you we were in Providence, +because you could have found that out by asking where the long-distance +call had come from; but it's most important to Mrs. Brokenshire that she +should have a few days alone." + +"I shall judge of that. To what hotel shall I come?" + +"I beg and implore you, sir, not to come. Please believe me when I say +that it will be better for you in the end. Try to trust me. Mrs. +Brokenshire isn't far from a nervous breakdown; but if I can have her to +myself for a week or two I believe I could tide her over it." + +Reproof and argument followed on this, till at last he yielded, with the +words: + +"Where are you going?" + +Fortunately, I had thought of that. + +"To some quiet place in Massachusetts. When we're settled I shall let +you know." + +He suggested a hotel at Lenox as suitable for such a sojourn. + +"She'd rather go where she wouldn't meet people whom she knows. The +minute she has decided I shall communicate with you again." + +"But I can see you in the morning before you leave?" + +The accent was now that of request. The overtone in it was pitiful. + +"Oh, don't try to, sir. She wants to get away from every one. It will be +so much better for her to do just as she likes. She had got to a point +where she had to escape from everything she knew and cared about; and so +all of a sudden--only--only to-day--she decided to come with me. She +doesn't need a trained nurse, because she's perfectly well. All she +wants is some one to be with her--whom she knows she can trust. She +hasn't even taken Angelique. She simply begs to be alone." + +In the end I made my point, but only after genuine beseeching on his +part and much repetition on mine. Having said good-night to him--he +actually used the words--I called up Angelique, in order to bring peace +to a household in which the mistress's desertion would create some +consternation. + +Angelique and I might have been called friends. The fact that I spoke +French _comme une Francaise_, as she often flattered me by saying, was a +bond between us, and we had the further point of sympathy that we were +both devoted to Mrs. Brokenshire. Besides that, there is something in +me--I suppose it must be a plebeian streak--which enables me to +understand servants and get along with them. + +I gave her much the same explanation as I gave to Mr. Brokenshire, +though somewhat differently put. In addition I asked her to pack such +selections from the simpler examples of Mrs. Brokenshire's wardrobe as +the lady might need in a country place, and keep them in readiness to +send. Angelique having expressed her relief that Mrs. Brokenshire was +safe at a known address, in the company of a responsible attendant--a +relief which, so she said, would be shared by the housekeeper, the chef, +and the butler, all of whom had spent the evening in painful +speculation--we took leave of each other, with our customary mutual +compliments. + +Though I was so tired by this time that fainting would have been a +solace, I called for a Boston paper and began studying the +advertisements of country hotels. Having made a selection of these I +consulted the manager of our present place of refuge, who strongly +commended one of them. Thither I sent a night-letter commandeering the +best, after which, with no more than strength to undress, I lay down on +a couch in Mrs. Brokenshire's room. When I knew she was sleeping I, too, +slept fitfully. About once in an hour I went softly to her bedside, and +finding her dozing, if not sound asleep, I went softly back again. + +Between four and five we had a little scene. As I approached her bed she +looked up and said: + +"What are we going to do in the morning?" + +Afraid to tell her all I had put in train, I gave my ideas in the form +of suggestion. + +"No, I sha'n't do that," she said, quietly. + +She lay quite still, her cheek embossed on the pillow, and a great stray +curl over her left shoulder. + +"Then what would you like to do?" + +"I should like to go straight back." + +"To begin the same old life all over again?" + +"To begin to see him all over again." + +"Do you think that after last night you can begin to see him in the same +old way?" + +"I must see him in some way." + +"But isn't the way what you've still to discover?" I resolved on a bold +stroke. "Wouldn't part of your object in going away for a time be to +think out some method of reconciling your feeling for Mr. Grainger +with--with your self-respect?" + +"My self-respect?" She looked as if she had never heard of such a thing. +"What's that got to do with it?" + +"Hasn't it got everything to do with it? You can't live without it +forever." + +"Do you mean that I've been living without it as it is?" + +"Isn't that for you to say rather than for me?" + +She was silent for a minute, after which she said, fretfully: + +"I don't think it's very nice of you to talk to me like that. You've got +me here at your mercy, when I might have been--" A long, bubbling sigh, +like the aftermath of tears, laid stress on the joys she had foregone. +"He'll never forgive me now--never." + +"Wouldn't it be better, dear Mrs. Brokenshire," I asked, "to consider +whether or not you can ever forgive him?" + +She raised herself on her elbow and looked at me. Seated in a low +arm-chair beside her bed, in an old-rose-colored kimono, my dark hair +hanging down my back, I was not a fascinating object of study, even in +the light of one small, distant, shaded bedroom lamp. + +"What should I forgive him for?--for loving me?" + +"Yes, for loving you--in that way." + +"He loves me--" + +"So much that he could see you dishonored and disgraced--and shunned by +decent people all the rest of your life--just to gratify his own +desires. It seems to me you may have to forgive him for that." + +"He asked me to do only what I would have done willingly--if it hadn't +been for you." + +"But he asked you. The responsibility is in that. You didn't make the +suggestion; he did." + +"He didn't make it till I'd let him see--" + +"Too much. Forgive me for saying it, dear Mrs. Brokenshire; but do you +think a woman should ever go so far to meet a man as you did?" + +"I let him see that I loved him. I did that before I married Mr. +Brokenshire." + +"You let him see more than that you loved him. You showed him that you +didn't know how to live without him." + +"But since I didn't know how--" + +"Ah, but you should have known. No woman should be so dependent on a man +as that." + +She fell back again on her pillows. + +"It's easy to see you've never been in love." + +"I have been in love--and am still; but love is not the most important +thing in the world--" + +"Then you differ from all the great teachers. They say it is." + +"If they do they're not speaking of sexual love." + +"What are they speaking of, then?" + +"They're speaking of another kind of love, with which the mere sexual +has nothing to do. I'm not an ascetic, and I know the sexual has its +place. But there's a love that's as much bigger than that as the sky is +bigger than I am." + +"Yes, but so long as one never sees it--" + +I suppose it was her tone of feeble rebellion that roused my spirit and +made me speak in a way which I should not otherwise have allowed myself. + +"You do see it, darling Mrs. Brokenshire," I declared, more sweetly than +I felt. "I'm showing it to you." I rose and stood over her. "What do you +suppose I'm prompted by but love? What urges me to stand by Mr. +Brokenshire but love? What made me step in between you and Mr. Grainger +and save him, as well as you, but love? Love isn't emotion that leaves +you weak; it's action that makes you strong. It has to be action, and it +has to be right action. There's no love separable from right; and until +you grasp that fact you'll always be unhappy. I'm a mere rag in my own +person. I've no more character than a hen. But because I've got a wee +little hold on right--" + +She broke in, peevishly, as she turned away: + +"I do wish you'd let me go to sleep." + +I got down from my high horse and went back, humbly, to my couch. +Scarcely, however, had I lain down, when the voice came again, in +childish complaint: + +"I think you might have kissed me." + +I had never kissed her in my life, nor had she ever shown any sign of +permitting me this liberty. Timidly I went back to the bed; timidly I +bent over it. But I was not prepared for the sudden intense clinging +with which she threw her arms round my neck and drew my face down to +hers. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + + +In the morning Mrs. Brokenshire was difficult again, but I got her into +a neat little country inn in Massachusetts by the middle of the +afternoon. I had to be like a jailer dragging along a prisoner, but that +could not be helped. + +On leaving Providence she insisted on spending a few days in Boston, +where, so she said, she had friends whom she wished to see. Knowing that +Stacy Grainger would be at one of the few hotels of which we had the +choice, I couldn't risk a meeting. Her predominating shame, a shame she +had no hesitation in confessing, was for having failed him. He would +never forgive her, she moaned; he wouldn't love her any more. Not to be +loved by him, not to be forgiven, was like death. All she demanded +during the early hours of that day was to find him, wherever he had +gone, and fling herself at his feet. + +Because I didn't allow her to remain in Boston we had what was almost a +quarrel, as we jolted over the cobblestones from the southern station to +the northern. She was now an outraged queen and now a fiery little +termagant. Sparing me neither tears nor reproaches, neither scoldings +nor denunciations, she nevertheless followed me obediently. Sitting +opposite me in the parlor-car, ignoring the papers and fashion magazines +I spread beneath her eyes, she lifted on me the piteous face of an angel +whom I had beaten and trampled and enslaved. For this kind of sacrilege +I had ceased, however, to be contrite. I was so tired, and had grown so +grim, that I could have led her along in handcuffs. + +But once out in the fresh, green, northern country the joy of a budding +and blossoming world stole into us in spite of all our cares. We +couldn't help getting out of our own little round of thought when we saw +fields that were carpets of green velvet, or copses of hazelnut and +alder coming into leaf, or a farmer sowing the plowed earth with the +swing and the stride of the _Semeur_. We couldn't help seeing wider and +farther and more hopefully when the sky was an arch of silvery blue +overhead, and white clouds drifted across it, and the north into which +we were traveling began to fling up masses of rolling hills. + +She caught me by the arm. + +"Oh, do look at the lambs! The darlings!" + +There they were, three or four helpless creatures, shivering in the +sharp May wind and apparently struck by the futility of a life which +would end in nothing but making chops. The ewes watched them maternally, +or stood patiently to be tugged by the full woolly breasts. After that +we kept our eyes open for other living things: for horses and cows and +calves, for Corots and Constables--with a difference!--on the uplands of +farms or in village highways. Once when a foal galloped madly away from +the train, kicking up its slender hind legs, my companion actually +laughed. + +When we got out at the station a robin was singing, the first bird we +had heard that year. The note was so full and pure and Eden-like that it +caught one's breath. It went with the bronze-green of maples and elms, +with the golden westering sunshine, and with the air that was like the +distillation of air and yet had a sharp northern tang in it. Driving in +the motor of the inn, through the main street of the town, we saw that +most of the white houses had a roomy Colonial dignity, and that orchards +of apple, cherry, and plum, with acres of small fruit, surrounded them +all. Having learned on the train that jam was the staple of the little +town's prosperity, we could see jam everywhere. Jam was in the +cherry-trees covered with dainty white blossoms, in the plum-trees +showing but a flower or two, and in the apple-trees scarcely in bud. Jam +was in the long straight lines which we were told represented +strawberries, and in the shrubberies of currant. Jam was along the +roadsides where the raspberry was clothing its sprawling bines with +leaves, and wherever the blueberry gladdened the waste places with its +millions of modest bells. Jam is a toothsome, homey thing to which no +woman with a housekeeping heart can be insensible. The thought of it did +something to bring Mrs. Brokenshire's thoughts back to the simple +natural ways she had forsworn, even before reaching the hotel. + +The hotel was no more than a farm-house that had expanded itself half a +dozen times. We traversed all sorts of narrow halls and climbed all +sorts of narrow staircases, till at last we emerged on a corner suite, +where the view led us straight to the balcony. + +Not that it was an extraordinary view; it was only a peaceful and a +noble one. An undulating country held in its folds a scattering of +lakes, working up to the lines of the southern New Hampshire hills which +closed the horizon to the north. Green was, of course, the note of the +landscape, melting into mauve in the mountains and saffron in the sky. +Spacing out the perspective a mauve mist rose between the ridges, and a +mauve light rested on the three white steeples of the town. The town +was perhaps two hundred feet below us and a mile away, nestling in a +feathery bower of verdure. + +When I joined Mrs. Brokenshire she was grasping the balcony rail, +emitting little "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" of ecstasy. She drew long breaths, +like a thirsty person drinking. She listened to the calling and +answering of birds with face illumined and upturned. It was a bath of +the spirit to us both. It was cleansing and healing; it was soothing and +restful and corrective, setting what was sane within us free. + +Of all this I need say little beyond mentioning the fact that Mrs. +Brokenshire, in spite of herself, entered into a period in which her +taut nerves relaxed and her over-strained emotions became rested. It was +a kind of truce of God to her. She had struggled and suffered so much +that she was content for a time to lie still in the everlasting arms and +be rocked and comforted. We had the simplest of rooms; we ate the +simplest of food; we led the simplest of lives. By day we read and +walked and talked a little and thought much; at night we slept soundly. +Our fellow-guests were people who did the same, varying the processes +with golf and moving pictures. For the most part they were tired people +from the neighboring towns, seeking like ourselves a few days' respite +from their burdens. Though they came to know who Mrs. Brokenshire was, +they respected her privacy, never doing worse than staring after her +when she entered the dining-room or walked on the lawns or verandas. I +had come to love her so much that it was a joy to me to witness the +revival of her spirit, and I looked forward to seeing her restored, not +too reluctantly, to her husband. + +With him I had, of course, some correspondence. It was an odd +correspondence, in which I made my customary _gaffe_. On our first +evening at the inn I wrote to him in fulfilment of my promise, +beginning, "Dear Mr. Brokenshire," as if I was writing to an equal. The +acknowledgment came back: "Miss Alexandra Adare: Dear Madam," putting me +back in my place. Accepting the rebuff, I adopted the style in sending +him my daily bulletins. + +As a matter of fact, my time was largely passed in writing, for I had +explanations to make to so many. My acquaintance with Mrs. Brokenshire +having been a secret one, I was obliged to confess it to Hugh and Mrs. +Rossiter, and even to Angelique. I had, in a measure, to apologize for +it, too, setting down Mrs. Brokenshire's selection of my company to an +invalid's eccentricity. + +So we got through May and into June, my reports to Mr. Brokenshire being +each one better than the last. My patient never wrote to him herself, +nor to any one. We had, in fact, been a day or two at the inn before she +said: + +"I wonder what Mr. Brokenshire is thinking?" + +It was for me to tell her then that from the beginning I had kept him +informed as to where she was, and that he knew I was with her. For a +minute or two she stiffened into the _grande dame_, as she occasionally +did. + +"You'll be good enough in future not to do such things without +consulting me," she said, with dignity. + +That passed, and when I read to her, as I always did, the occasional +notes with which her husband honored me, she listened without comment. +It must have been the harder to do that since the lover's pleading ardor +could be detected beneath all the cold formality in which he couched his +communications. + +It was this ardor, as well as something else, that began in the end to +make me uneasy. The something else was that Mrs. Brokenshire was writing +letters on her own account. Coming in one day from a solitary walk, I +found her posting one in the hall of the hotel. A few days later one for +her was handed to me at the office, with several of my own. Recognizing +Stacy Grainger's writing, I put it back with the words: + +"Mrs. Brokenshire will come for her letters herself." + +From that time onward she was often at her desk, and I knew when she got +her replies by the feverishness of her manner. The truce of God being +past, the battle was now on again. + +The first sign of it given to me was on a day when Mr. Brokenshire wrote +in terms more definite than he had used hitherto. I read the letter +aloud to her, as usual. He had been patient, he said, and considerate, +which had to be admitted. Now he could deny himself no longer. As it was +plain that his wife was better, he should come to her. He named the 20th +as the day on which he should appear. + +"No, no," she cried, excitedly. "Not till after the twenty-third." + +"But why the twenty-third?" I asked, innocently. + +"Because I say so. You'll see." Then fearing, apparently, that she had +betrayed something she ought to have concealed, she colored and added, +lamely, "It will give me a little more time." + +I said nothing, but I pondered much. The 23d was no date at all that had +anything to do with us. If it had significance it was in plans as to +which she had not taken me into her confidence. + +So, too, when I heard her making inquiries of the maid who did the rooms +as to the location of the Baptist church. "What on earth does she want +to know that for?" was the question I not unnaturally asked myself. That +she, who never went to church at all, except as an occasional act of +high ceremonial for which she took great credit to her soul, was now +concerned with the doctrine of baptism by immersion I did not believe. +But I hunted up the sacred edifice myself, finding it to be situated on +the edge of a daisied mead, slightly out of the town, on a road that +might be described as lonely and remote. I came to the conclusion that +if any one wanted to carry off in an automobile a lady picking +flowers--a sort of _enlevement de Proserpine_--this would be as good a +place as any. How the Pluto of our drama could have come to select it, +Heaven only knew. + +But I did as I was bid, and wrote to Mr. Brokenshire that once the 23d +was passed he would be free to come. After that I watched, wondering +whether or not I should have the heart or the nerve to frustrate love a +second time, even if I got the chance. + +I didn't get the chance precisely, but on the 22nd of June I received a +mysterious note. It was typewritten and had neither date nor address nor +signature. Its message was simple: + +"If Miss Adare will be at the post-office at four o'clock this afternoon +she will greatly oblige the writer of these lines and perhaps benefit a +person who is dear to her." + +The post-office being a tolerably safe place in case of felonious +attack, I was on the spot at five minutes before the hour. In that +particular town it occupied a corner of a brick building which also gave +shelter to the bank and a milliner's establishment. As the village hotel +was opposite, I advertised my arrival by studying a display of hats +which warranted the attention before going inside to invest in stamps. +As I was the only applicant for this necessary of life, the swarthy, +undersized young man who served me made kindly efforts at entertainment +while "delivering the goods," as he expressed it. + +"English, ain't you?" + +I said, as usual, that I was a Canadian. + +He smiled at his own perspicacity. + +"Got your number, didn't I? All you Canucks have the same queer way o' +talkin'. Two or three in the jam-factory here--only they're French." + +I knew some one had entered behind me, and, turning away from the +wicket, I found the person I had expected. Mr. Stacy Grainger, clad +jauntily in a gray spring suit, lifted a soft felt hat. + +He went to his point without introductory greeting. + +"It's good of you to have come. Perhaps we could talk better if we +walked up the street. There's no one to know us or to make it awkward +for you." + +Walking up the street he made his errand clear to me. I had partly +guessed it before he said a word. I had guessed it from his pallor, from +something indefinably humbled in the way he bore himself, and from the +worried light in his romantic eyes. Being so much taller than I, he had +to stoop toward me as he talked. + +He knew, he said, what had happened on the train. Some of it he had +wrung from his secretary, Strangways, and the rest had been written him +by Mrs. Brokenshire. He had been so furious at first that he might have +been called insane. In order to give himself the pleasure of kicking +Strangways out he had refused to accept his resignation, and had I not +been a woman he would have sought revenge on me. He had been the more +frantic because until getting his first note from Mrs. Brokenshire he +hadn't known where she was. To have the person dearest to him in the +world swept off the face of the earth after she was actually under his +protection was enough to drive a man mad. + +Having acquiesced in this, I considered it no harm to add that if I had +known the business on which I was setting out I should have hardly dared +that day to take the train for Boston. Once on it, however, and in +speech with Mrs. Brokenshire, it had seemed that there was no other +course before me. + +"Quite so," he agreed, somewhat to my surprise. "I see that now. He's +not altogether an ass, that fellow Strangways. I've kept him with me, +and little by little--" He broke off abruptly to say: "And now the +shoe's on the other foot. That's what I wanted to tell you." + +I walked on a few paces before getting the force of this figure of +speech. + +"You mean that Mrs. Brokenshire--" + +"Quite so. I see you get what I'd like you to know." He went on, +brokenly: "It isn't that I don't want it myself as much as ever. I only +see, as I didn't see before, what it would mean to her. If I were to +take her at her word--as I must, of course, if she insists on it--" + +I had to think hard while we continued to walk on beneath the leafing +elms, and the village people watched us two as city folks. + +"It's for to-morrow, isn't it?" I asked at last. + +He nodded. + +"How did you know that?" + +"Near the Baptist church?" + +"How the deuce do you know? I motored up here last week to spy out the +land. That seemed to me the most practicable spot, where we should be +least observed--" + +We were still walking on when I said, without quite knowing why I did +so: + +"Why shouldn't you go away at once and leave it all to me?" + +"Leave it all to you? And what would you do?" + +"I don't know. I should have to think. I could do--something." + +"But suppose she's counting on me to come?" + +"Then you would have to fail her." + +"I couldn't." + +"Not even if it was for her good?" + +He shook his head. + +"Not even if it was for her good. No one who calls himself a +gentleman--" + +I couldn't help flinging him a scornful smile. + +"Isn't it too late to think in terms like that? We've come to a place +where such words don't apply. The best we can do is to get out of a +difficult situation as wisely as possible, and if you'd just go away and +leave it to me--" + +"She'd never forgive me. That's what I'd be afraid of." + +"There's nothing to be afraid of in doing right," I declared, a little +sententiously. "You'll do right in going away. The rest will take care +of itself." + +We came to the edge of the town, where there was a gate leading into a +pasture. Over this gate we leaned and looked down on a valley of +orchards and farms. He was sufficiently at ease to take out a cigarette +and ask my permission to smoke. + +"What would you say of a man who treated you like that?" he asked, +presently. + +"It wouldn't matter what I said at first, so long as I lived to thank +him. That's what she'd do, and she'd do it soon." + +"And in the mean time?" + +"I don't see that you need think of that. If you do right--" + +He groaned aloud. + +"Oh, right be hanged!" + +"Yes, there you go. But so long as right is hanged wrong will have it +all its own way and you'll both get into trouble. Do right now--" + +"And leave her in the lurch?" + +"You wouldn't be leaving her in the lurch, because you'd be leaving her +with me. I know her and can take care of her. If you were just failing +her and nothing else--that would be another thing. But I'm here. If +you'll only do what's so obviously right, Mr. Grainger, you can trust me +with the rest." + +I said this firmly and with an air of competence, though, as a matter of +fact, I had no idea of what I should have to do. What I wanted first was +to get rid of him. Once alone with her, I knew I should get some kind of +inspiration. + +He diverted the argument to himself--he wanted her so much, he would +have to suffer so cruelly. + +"There's no question as to your suffering," I said. "You'll both have to +suffer. That can be taken for granted. We're only thinking of the way in +which you'll suffer least." + +"That's true," he admitted, but slowly and reluctantly. + +"I'm not a terribly rigorous moralist," I went on. "I've a lot of +sympathy with Paolo and Francesca and with Pelleas and Melisande. But +you can see for yourself that all such instances end unhappily, and when +it's happiness you're primarily in search of--" + +"Hers--especially," he interposed, with the same deliberation and some +of the same unwillingness. + +"Well, then, isn't your course clear? She'll never be happy with you if +she kills the man she runs away from--" + +He withdrew his cigarette and looked at me, wonderingly. + +"Kills him? What in thunder do you mean?" + +I explained my convictions. Howard Brokenshire wouldn't survive his +wife's desertion for a month; he might not survive it for a day. He was +a doomed man, even if his wife did not desert him at all. He, Stacy +Grainger, was young. Mrs. Brokenshire was young. Wouldn't it be better +for them both to wait on life--and on the other possibilities that I +didn't care to name more explicitly? + +So he wrestled with himself, and incidentally with me, turning back at +last toward the village inn--and his motor. While shaking my hand to say +good-by he threw off, jerkily: + +"I suppose you know my secretary, Strangways, wants to marry you?" + +My heart seemed to stop beating. + +"He's--he's never said so to me," I managed to return, but more weakly +than I could have wished. + +"Well he will. He's all right. He's not a fool. I'm taking him with me +into some big things; so that if it's the money you're in doubt about--" + +I had recovered myself enough to say: + +"Oh no; not at all. But if you're in his confidence I beg you to ask him +to think no more about it. I'm engaged--or practically engaged--I may +say that I'm engaged--to Hugh Brokenshire." + +"I see. Then you're making a mistake." + +I was moving away from him by this time so that I gave him a little +smile. + +"If so, the circumstances are such that--that I must go on making it." + +"For God's sake don't!" he called after me. + +"Oh, but I must," I returned, and so we went our ways. + +On going back to our rooms I found poor, dear little Mrs. Brokenshire +packing a small straw suit-case. She had selected it as the only thing +she could carry in her hand to the place of the _enlevement_. She was +not a packer; she was not an adept in secrecy. As I entered her room she +looked at me with the pleading, guilty eyes of a child detected in the +act of stealing sweets, and confessing before he is accused. + +I saw nothing, of course. I saw nothing that night. I saw nothing the +next day. Each one of her helpless, unskilful moves was so plain to me +that I could have wept; but I was turning over in my mind what I could +do to let her know she was deceived. I was reproaching myself, too, for +being so treacherous a confidante. All the great love-heroines had an +attendant like me, who bewailed and lamented the steps their mistresses +were taking, and yet lent a hand. Here I was, the nurse to this Juliet, +the Brangaene to this Isolde, but acting as a counter-agent to all +romantic schemes. I cannot say I admired myself; but what was I to do? + +To make a long story short I decided to do nothing. You may scorn me, +oh, reader, for that; but I came to a place where I saw it would be vain +to interfere. Even a child must sometimes be left to fight its own +battles and stand face to face with its own fate; and how much more a +married woman! It became the more evident to me that this was what I +could best do for Mrs. Brokenshire in proportion as I watched the leaden +hands and feet with which she carried out her tasks and inferred a +leaden heart. A leaden heart is bad enough, but a leaden heart offering +itself in vain--what lesson could go home with more effect? + +During the forenoon of the 23d each little incident cut me to the quick. +It was so naive, so useless. The poor darling thought she was outwitting +me. As if she was stealing it she stowed away her jewelry, and when she +could no longer hide the suit-case she murmured something about articles +to be cleaned at the village cleaner's. I took this with a feeble joke +as to the need of economy, and when she thought she would carry down the +things herself I commended the impulse toward exercise. I knew she +wouldn't drive, because she didn't want a witness to her acts. As far as +I could guess the hour at which Pluto would carry off Proserpine, it +would be at five o'clock. + +And indeed about half past three I observed unusual signs of agitation. +Her door was kept closed, and from behind it came sounds of a final +opening and closing of cupboards and drawers, after which she emerged, +wearing a dark-blue walking-suit and a hat of the _canotiere_ style, +with a white quill feather at one side. I still made no comment, not +even when the wan, wee, touching figure was ready to set forth. + +If her first steps were artless the last was more artless still. Instead +of going off casually, with an implied intention to come back, she took +leave of me with tears and protestations of affection. She had been +harsh with me, she confessed, and seemingly indifferent to my tender +care, but one day she might have a chance to show me how genuine was her +gratitude. In this, too, I saw no more than the commonplace, and a +little after four she tripped down the avenue, looking, with her +suit-case, like a school-girl. + +I allowed her just such a handicap as her speed and mine would have +warranted. Even then I made no attempt to overtake her. Having +previously got what is called the lay of the land, I knew how I could +come to her assistance by taking a short cut. I had hardened my heart by +this time, and whatever qualms I had felt before, I was resolved now to +spare her no drop of the wormwood that would be for her good. + +I cannot describe our respective routes without appending a map, which +would scarcely be worth while. It will be enough if I say that she went +round the arc of a bow and I cut across by the string. I came thus to a +slight eminence, selected in advance, whence I could watch her descent +of the hill by which the lower Main Street trails off into the country. +I could follow her, too, when she deflected into a small +cross-thoroughfare bearing the scented name of Clover Lane, in which +there were no houses; and I should still be able to trace her course +when she emerged on the quiet country road that would take her to her +trysting-place. I had no intention to step in till I could do it at some +spot on her homeward way, and thus spare her needless humiliation. + +In Clover Lane she was within a few hundred yards of her destination. +She had only to turn a corner and she would be in sight of the flowery +mead whence she was to be carried off. It was a pretty lane, grass-grown +and overhung with lilacs in full bloom, such as you would find on the +edge of any New England town. The lilacs shut her in from my view for a +good part of the time, but not so constantly that I couldn't be a +witness to her soul's tragedy. + +Her soul's tragedy came as a surprise to me. Closely as I had lived with +her, I was unprepared for any such event. My first hint of it was when +her pace through the lane began to slacken, till at last she stopped. +That she didn't stop because she was tired I could judge by the fact +that, though she stood stock-still, she held the light suit-case in her +hand. I couldn't see her face, because I stood under a great elm, some +five hundred yards away. + +Having paused and reflected for the space of three or four minutes, she +went on again, but she went on more slowly. Her light, tripping gait had +become a dragging of the feet, while I divined that she was still +pondering. As it was nearly five o'clock, she couldn't be afraid of +being before her time. + +But she stopped again, setting the suit-case down in the middle of the +road. She turned then and looked back over the way by which she had +come, as if regretting it. Seeing her open her small hand-bag, take out +a handkerchief, and put it to her lips, I was sure she was repressing +one of her baby-like sobs. My heart yearned over her, but I could only +watch her breathlessly. + +She went on again--twenty paces, perhaps. Here she seemed to find a seat +on a roadside boulder, for she sat down on it, her back being toward me +and her figure almost concealed by the wayside growth. I could only +wonder at what was passing in her mind. The whole period, of about ten +minutes' duration, is filled in my memory with mellow afternoon light +and perfumed air and the evening song of birds. When the village clock +struck five she bounded up with a start. + +Again she took what might have been twenty paces, and again she came to +a halt. Dropping the suit-case once more, she clasped her hands as if +she was praying. As, to the best of my knowledge, her prayers were +confined to a hasty evening and morning ritual in which there was +nothing more than a pious, meaningless habit, I could surmise her +present extremity. Stacy Grainger was like a god to her. If she +renounced him now it would be an act of heroism of which I could hardly +believe her capable. + +But, apparently, she made up her mind that she couldn't renounce him. If +there was an answer to her prayer it was one that prompted her to snatch +up her burden again and hurry, with a kind of skimming motion, right to +the end of the lane. It was to the end of the lane, but not to the +turning into the roadway. Once in the roadway she would see--or she +thought she would see--Stacy Grainger and his automobile, and her fate +would be sealed. + +She had still a chance before her--and from that rutted sandy juncture, +with wild roses and wild raspberries in the hedgerows on each side, she +reeled back as if she had been struck. I can only think of a person +blinded by a flash of lightning who would recoil in just that way. + +For a few minutes she was hidden from my view behind the lilacs. When I +caught sight of her again she was running like a terrified bird back +through Clover Lane and toward the Main Street, which would take her +home. + +I met her as she was dragging herself up the hill, white, breathless, +exhausted. Pretending to take the situation lightly, I called as I +approached: + +"So you didn't leave the things." + +Her answer was to drop the suit-case once again, while, regardless of +curious eyes at windows and doors, she flew to throw herself into my +arms. + +She never explained; I never asked for explanations. I was glad enough +to get her back to the hotel, put her to bed, and wait on her hand and +foot. She was saved now; Stacy Grainger, too, was saved. Each had +deserted the other; each had the same crime to forgive. From that day +onward she never spoke his name to me. + +But as, that evening, I went to her bedside to say good-night, she drew +my face to hers and whispered, cryptically: + +"It will be all right now between yourself and Hugh. I know how I can +help." + + + + + CHAPTER XX + + +Mr. Brokenshire arrived on the 26th of June, thus giving us a few days' +grace. In the interval Mrs. Brokenshire remained in bed, neither tired +nor ill, but white, silent, and withdrawn. Her soul's tragedy had +plainly not ended with her skimming retreat through Clover Lane. In the +new phase on which it had entered it was creating a woman, possibly a +wife, where there had been only a lovely child of arrested development. +Slipping in and out of her room, attending quietly to her wants, I was +able to note, as never in my life before, the beneficent action of +suffering. + +Because she was in bed, I folded my tent like the Arab and silently +vacated my room in favor of Mr. Brokenshire. I looked for some objection +on telling her of this, but she merely bit her lip and said nothing. I +had asked the manager to put me in the most distant part of the most +distant wing of the hotel, and would have stolen away altogether had it +not been for fear that my poor, dear little lady might need me. + +As it was, I kept out of sight when Mr. Brokenshire drove up with +secretary, valet, and chauffeur, and I contrived to take my meals at +hours when there could be no encounter between me and the great +personage. If I was wanted I knew I could be sent for; but the 27th +passed and no command came. + +Once or twice I got a distant view of my enemy, as I began to call +him--majestic, noble, stouter, too, and walking with a slight waddle of +the hips, which had always marked his carriage and became more +noticeable as he increased in bulk. Not having seen him for nearly three +months, I observed that his hair and beard were grayer. During those +first few days I was never near enough to be able to tell whether or not +there was a change for the better or the worse in his facial affliction. + +From a chance word with the cadaverous Spellman on the 28th I learned +that a sitting-room had been arranged in connection with the two +bedrooms Mrs. Brokenshire and I had occupied, and that husband and wife +were now taking their repasts in private. Later that day I saw them +drive out together, Mrs. Brokenshire no more than a silhouette in the +shadows of the limousine. I drew the inference that, however the soul's +tragedy was working, it was with some reconciling grace that did what +love had never been able to accomplish. Perhaps for her, as for me, +there was an appeal in this vain, fatuous, suffering magnate of a coarse +world's making that, in spite of everything, touched the springs of +pity. + +In any case, I was content not to be sent for--and to rest. After a +tranquil day or two my own nerves had calmed down and I enjoyed the +delight of having nothing on my mind. It was extraordinary how remote I +could keep myself while under the same roof with my superiors, +especially when they kept themselves remote on their side. I had decided +on the 1st of July as the date to which I should remain. If there was no +demand for my services by that time I meant to consider myself free to +go. + +But events were preparing, had long been preparing, which changed my +life as, I suppose, they changed to a greater or less degree the +majority of lives in the world. It was curious, too, how they arranged +themselves, with a neatness of coincidence which weaves my own small +drama as a visible thread--visible to me, that is--in the vast tapestry +of human history begun so far back as to be time out of mind. + +It was the afternoon of Monday the 29th of June, 1914. Having secured a +Boston morning paper, I had carried it off to the back veranda, which +was my favorite retreat, because nobody else liked it. It was just +outside my room, and looked up into a hillside wood, where there were +birds and squirrels, and straight bronze pine-trunks wherever the +sunlight fell aslant on them. At long intervals, too, a partridge hen +came down with her little brood, clucking her low wooden cluck and +pecking at tender shoots invisible to me, till she wandered off once +more into the hidden depths of the stillness. + +But I wasn't watching for the partridge hen that afternoon. I was +thrilled by the tale of the assassination of the Archduke Franz +Ferdinand and the Duchess of Hohenberg, which had taken place at +Sarajevo on the previous day. Millions of other readers, who, no more +than I, felt their own destinies involved were being thrilled at the +same moment. The judgment trumpet was sounding--only not as we had +expected it. There was no blast from the sky--no sudden troop of angels. +There was only the soundless vibration of the wire and of the Hertzian +waves; there was only the casting of type and the rattling of +innumerable reams of paper; and, as the Bible says, the dead could hear +the voice, and they that heard it stood still; and the nations were +summoned before the Throne "that was set in the midst." I was summoned, +with my own people--though I didn't know it was a summons till +afterward. + +The paper had fallen to my knee when I was startled to see Mr. +Brokenshire come round the corner of my retreat. Dressed entirely in +white, with no color in his costume save the lavender stripe in his +shirt and collar, and the violet of his socks, handkerchief, and tie, he +would have been the perfect type of the middle-aged exquisite had it not +been for the pitiless distortion of his eye the minute he caught sight +of me. That he had not stumbled on me accidentally I judged by the way +in which he lifted a Panama of the kind that is said to be made under +water and is costlier than the costliest feminine confection by Caroline +Ledoux. + +I was struggling out of my wicker chair when the uplifted hand forbade +me. + +"Be good enough to stay where you are," he commanded, but more gently +than he had ever spoken to me. "I've some things to say to you." + +Too frightened to make a further attempt to move, I looked at him as he +drew up a chair similar to my own, which creaked under his weight when +he sat down in it. The afternoon being hot, and my veranda lacking air, +which was one of the reasons why it was left to me, he mopped his brow +with the violet handkerchief, on which an enormous monogram was +embroidered in white. I divined his reluctance to begin not only from +his long hesitation, but from the renewed contortion of his face. His +hand went up to the left cheek as if to hold it in place, though with no +success in the effort. When, at last, he spoke there was a stillness in +his utterance suggestive of an affection extending now to the lips or +the tongue. + +"I want you to know how much I appreciate the help you've given to Mrs. +Brokenshire during her--her"--he had a difficulty in finding the right +word--"during her indisposition," he finished, rather weakly. + +"I did no more than I was glad to do," I responded, as weakly as he. + +"Exactly; and yet I can't allow such timely aid to go unrewarded." + +I was alarmed. Grasping the arms of the chair, I braced myself. + +"If you mean money, sir--" + +"No; I mean more than money." He, too, braced himself. "I--I withdraw my +opposition to your marriage with my son." + +The immediate change in my consciousness was in the nature of a +dissolving view. The veranda faded away, and the hillside wood. Once +more I saw the imaginary dining-room, and myself in a smart little +dinner gown seating the guests; once more I saw the white-enameled +nursery, and myself in a lace peignoir leaning over the bassinet. As in +previous visions of the kind, Hugh was a mere shadow in the background, +secondary to the home and the baby. + +Secondary to the home and the baby was the fact that my object was +accomplished and that my enemy had come to his knees. Indeed, I felt no +particular elation from that element in the case; no special sense of +victory. Like so many realized ambitions, it seemed a matter of course, +now that it had come. Nevertheless, it seemed to me that for my own sake +and for the sake of the future I must have a more definite expression of +surrender than he had yet given me. + +I remembered that Mrs. Brokenshire had said she would help me, and could +imagine how. I summoned up everything within me that would rank as +force of character, speaking quietly. + +"I should be sorry, sir, to have you come to this decision against your +better judgment." + +"If you'll be kind enough to accept the fact," he said, sharply, "we can +leave my manner of reaching it out of the discussion." + +In spite of the tone I rallied my resources. + +"I don't want to be presumptuous, sir; but if I'm to enter your family I +should like to feel sure that you'll receive me whole-heartedly." + +"My dear young lady, isn't it assurance enough that I receive you at +all? When I bring myself to that--" + +"Oh, please don't think I can't appreciate the sacrifice." + +"Then what more is to be said?" + +"But the sacrifice is the point. No girl wants to become one of a family +which has to make such an effort to take her." + +There was already a whisper of insecurity in his tone. + +"Even so, I can't see why you shouldn't let the effort be our affair. +Since we make it on our own responsibility--" + +"I don't care anything about the responsibility, sir. All I'm thinking +of is that the effort must be made." + +"But what did you expect?" + +"I haven't said that I expected anything. If I've been of the slightest +help to Mrs. Brokenshire I'm happy to let the service be its own +reward." + +"But I'm not. It isn't my habit to remain under an obligation to any +one." + +"Nor mine," I said, demurely. + +He stared. + +"What does that mean? I don't follow you." + +"Perhaps not, sir; but I quite follow you. You wish me to understand +that, in spite of my deficiencies, you accept me as your son's wife--for +the reason that you can't help yourself." + +Two sharp hectic spots came out on each cheek-bone. + +"Well, what if I do?" + +"I'm far too generous to put you in that position. I couldn't take you +at a disadvantage, not even for the sake of marrying Hugh." + +I was not sure whether he was frightened or angry, but it was the one or +the other. + +"Do you mean to say that, now--now that I'm ready--" + +"That I'm not? Yes, sir. That's what I do mean to say. I told you once +that if I loved a man I shouldn't stop to consider the wishes of his +relatives; but I've repented of that. I see now that marriage has a +wider application than merely to individuals; and I'm not ready to enter +any family that doesn't want me." + +I looked off into the golden dimnesses of the hillside wood in order not +to be a witness of the struggle he was making. + +"And suppose"--it was almost a groan--"and suppose I said we--wanted +you?" + +It was like bending an iron bar; but I gave my strength to it. + +"You'd have to say it differently from that, sir." + +He spoke hoarsely. + +"Differently--in what sense?" + +I knew I had him, as Hugh would have expressed it, where I had been +trying to get him. + +"In the sense that if you want me you must ask me." + +He mopped his brow once more. + +"I--I have asked you." + +"You've said you withdrew your opposition. That's not enough." + +Beads or perspiration were again standing on his forehead. + +"Then what--what would be--enough?" + +"A woman can't marry any one unless she does it as something of a +favor." + +He drew himself up. + +"Do you remember that you're talking to me?" + +"Yes, sir; and it's because I do remember it that I have to insist. With +anybody else I shouldn't have to be so crude." + +Again he put up a struggle, and this time I watched him. If his wife had +made the conditions I guessed at, I had nothing to do but sit still. +Grasping the arms of his chair, he half rose as if to continue the +interview no further, but immediately saw, as I inferred, what that +would mean to him. He fell back again into the creaking depths of the +chair. + +"What do you wish me to say?" + +But his stricken aspect touched me. Now that he was prepared to come to +his knees, I had no heart to force him down on them. Since I had gained +my point, it was foolish to battle on, or try to make the Ethiopian +change his skin. + +"Oh, sir, you've said it!" I cried, with sudden emotion. I leaned toward +him, clasping my hands. "I see you do want me; and since you do +I'll--I'll come." + +Having made this concession, I became humble and thankful and tactful. I +appeased him by saying I was sensible of the honor he did me, that I was +happy in the thought that he was to be reconciled with Hugh; and I +inquired for Mrs. Brokenshire. Leading up to this question with an air +of guilelessness, I got the answer I was watching for in the ashen shade +that settled on his face. + +I forget what he replied; I was really not listening. I was calling up +the scene in which she must have fulfilled her promise of helping Hugh +and me. From the something crushed in him, as in the case of a man who +knows the worst at last, I gathered that she had made a clean breast of +it. It was awesome to think that behind this immaculate white suit with +its violet details, behind this pink of the old beau, behind this +moneyed authority and this power of dictation to which even the mighty +sometimes had to bow, there was a broken heart. + +He knew now that the bird he had captured was nothing but a captured +bird, and always longing for the forest. That his wife was willing to +bear his name and live in his house and submit to his embraces was +largely because I had induced her. Whether or not, in spite of his +pompousness, he was grateful to me I didn't know; but I guessed that he +was not. He could accept such benefits as I had secured him and yet be +resentful toward the curious providence that had chosen me in particular +as its instrument. + +I came out of my meditations in time to hear him say that, Mrs. +Brokenshire being as well rested as she was, there would be no further +hindrance to their proceeding soon to Newport. + +"And I suppose I might go back to my home," I observed, with no other +than the best intentions. + +He made an attempt to regain the authority he had just forfeited. + +"What for?" + +"To be married," I explained--"since I am to be married." + +"But why should you be married there?" + +"Wouldn't it be the most natural thing?" + +"It wouldn't be the most natural thing for Hugh." + +"A man can be married anywhere; whereas a woman, at such a turning-point +in her life, needs a certain backing. I've an uncle and aunt and a great +many friends--" + +The effort at a faint smile drew up the corner of his mouth and set his +face awry. + +"You'll excuse me, my dear"--the epithet made me jump--"if I correct you +on a point of taste. In being willing that Hugh should marry you I think +I must draw the line at anything like parade." + +I know my eyebrows went up. + +"Parade? Parade--how?" + +The painful little smile persisted. + +"The ancient Romans, when they went to war, had a custom of bringing +back the most conspicuous of their captives and showing them in triumph +in the streets--" + +I, too, smiled. + +"Oh! I understand. But you see, sir, the comparison doesn't hold in this +case, because none of my friends would know anything more about Hugh +than the fact that he was an American." + +The crooked features went back into repose. + +"They'd know he was my son." + +I continued to smile, but sweetly. + +"They'd take it for granted that he was somebody's son--but they +wouldn't know anything about you, sir. You'd be quite safe so far as +that went. Though I don't live many hundreds of miles from New York, and +we're fairly civilized, I had never so much as heard the name of +Brokenshire till Mrs. Rossiter told me it was hers before she was +married. You see, then, that there'd be no danger of my leading a +captive in triumph. No one I know would give Hugh a second thought +beyond being nice to the man I was marrying." + +That he was pleased with this explanation I cannot affirm, but he passed +it over. + +"I think," was his way of responding, "that it will be better if we +consider that you belong to us. Till your marriage to Hugh, which I +suppose will take place in the autumn, you'll come back with us to +Newport. There will be a whole new--how shall I put it?--a whole new +phase of life for you to get used to. Hugh will stay with us, and I +shall ask my daughter, Mrs. Rossiter, to be your hostess till--" + +As, without finishing his sentence, he rose I followed his example. +Though knowing in advance how futile would be the attempt to present +myself as an equal, I couldn't submit to this calm disposition of my +liberty and person without putting up a fight. + +"I've a great preference, sir--if you'll allow me--for being married in +my own home, among my own people, and in the old parish church in which +I was baptized. I really have people and a background; and it's possible +that my sisters might come over--" + +The hand went up; his tone put an end to discussion. + +"I think, my dear Alexandra, that we shall do best in considering that +you belong to us. You'll need time to grow accustomed to your new +situation. A step backward now might be perilous." + +My fight was ended. What could I do? I listened and submitted, while he +went on to tell me that Mrs. Brokenshire would wish to see me during the +day, that Hugh would be sent for and would probably arrive the next +afternoon, and that by the end of the week we should all be settled in +Newport. There, whenever I felt I needed instruction, I was not to be +ashamed to ask for it. Mrs. Rossiter would explain anything of a social +nature that I didn't understand, and he knew I could count on Mrs. +Brokenshire's protection. + +With a comic inward grimace I swallowed all my pride and thanked him. + +As for Mrs. Brokenshire's protection, that was settled when, later in +the afternoon, we sat on her balcony and laughed and cried together, and +held each other's hands, as young women do when their emotions outrun +their power of expression. She called me Alix and begged me to invent a +name for her that would combine the dignity of Hugh's stepmother with +our standing as friends. I chose Miladi, out of _Les Trois +Mousquetaires_, with which she was delighted. + +I begged off from dining with them that evening, nominally because I was +too upset by all I had lived through in the afternoon, but really for +the reason that I couldn't bear the thought of Mr. Brokenshire calling +me his dear Alexandra twice in the same day. Once had made my blood run +cold. His method of shriveling up a name by merely pronouncing it is +something that transcends my power to describe. He had ruined that of +Adare with me forever, and now he was completing my confusion at being +called after so lovely a creature as our queen. I have always admitted +that, with its stately, regal suggestions, Alexandra is no symbol for a +plain little body like me; but when Mr. Brokenshire took it on his lips +and called me his dear I could have cried out for mercy. So I had my +dinner by myself, munching slowly and meditating on what Mr. Brokenshire +described as "my new situation." + +I was meditating on it still when, in the course of the following +afternoon, I was sitting in a retired grove of the hillside wood +waiting for Hugh to come and find me. He was to arrive about three and +Miladi was to tell him where I was. In our crowded little inn, with its +crowded grounds, nooks of privacy were rare. + +I had taken the Boston paper with me in order to get further details of +the tragedy of Sarajevo. These I found absorbing. They wove themselves +in with my thoughts of Hugh and my dreams of our life together. An +article on Serbia, which I had found in an old magazine that morning, +had given me, too, an understanding of the situation I hadn't had +before. Up to that day Serbia had been but a name to me; now I began to +see its significance. The story of this brave, patient little people, +with its one idea--an _idee fixe_ of liberty--began to move me. + +Of all the races of Europe the Serbian impressed me as the one that had +been most constantly thwarted in its natural ambitions--struck down +whenever it attempted to rise. Its patriotic hopes had always been +inconvenient to some other nation's patriotic hopes, and so had to be +blasted systematically. England, France, Austria, Turkey, Italy, and +Russia had taken part at various times in this circumvention, denying +the fruits of victory after they had been won. Serbia had been the poor +little bastard brother of Europe, kept out of the inheritance of justice +and freedom and commerce when others were admitted to a share. For some +of them there might have been no great share; but for little Serbia +there was none. + +It was terrible to me that such wrong could go on, generation after +generation, and that there should be no Nemesis. In a measure it +contradicted my theory of right. I didn't want any one to suffer, but I +asked why there had been no suffering. Of the nations that had knocked +Serbia about, hedged her in by restrictions, dismembered her and kept +her dismembered, most were prosperous. From Serbia's point of view I +couldn't help sympathizing with the hand that had struck down at least +one member of the House of Hapsburg; and yet in that tragic act there +could be no adequate revenge for centuries of repression. What I wanted +I didn't know; I suppose I didn't want anything. I was only +wondering--wondering why, if individuals couldn't sin without paying for +the sin they had committed, nations should sin and be immune. + +Strangely enough, these reflections did not shut out the thought of the +lover who was coming up the hill; they blended with it; they made it +larger and more vital. I could thank God I was marrying a man whose hand +would always be lifted on behalf of right. I didn't know how it could be +lifted in the cause of Serbia against the influences represented by +Franz Ferdinand; but when one is dreaming one doesn't pause to direct +the logical course of one's dreams. Perhaps I was only clutching at +whatever I could say for Hugh; and at least I could say that. He was not +a strong man in the sense of being fertile in ideas; but he was brave +and generous, and where there was injustice his spirit would be among +the first to be stirred by it. That conviction made me welcome him when, +at last, I saw his stocky figure moving lower down among the pine +trunks. + +I caught sight of him long before he discovered me, and could make my +notes upon him. I could even make my notes upon myself, not wholly with +my own approval. I was too business-like, too cool. There was nothing I +possessed in the world that I would not have given for a single +quickened heart-throb. I would have given it the more when I saw Hugh's +pinched face and the furbished-up spring suit he had worn the year +before. + +It was not the fact that he had worn it the year before that gave me a +pang; it was that he must have worn it pretty steadily. I am not +observant of men's clothes. Except that I like to see them neat, they +are too much alike to be worth noticing. But anything not plainly +opulent in Hugh smote me with a sense of guilt. It could so easily be +attributed to my fault. I could so easily take it so myself. I did take +it so myself. I said as he approached: "This man has suffered. He has +suffered on my account. All my life must be given to making it up to +him." + +I make no attempt to tell how we met. It was much as we had met after +other separations, except that when he slipped to the low boulder and +took me in his arms it was with a certainty of possession which had +never hitherto belonged to him. There was nothing for me but to let +myself go, and lie back in his embrace. + +I came to myself, as it were, on hearing him whisper, with his face +close to mine: + +"You witch! You witch! How did you ever manage it?" + +I made the necessity for giving him an explanation the excuse for +working myself free. + +"I didn't manage it. It was Mrs. Brokenshire." + +He cried out, incredulously: + +"Oh no! Not the madam!" + +"Yes, Hugh. It was she. She asked him. She must have begged him. That's +all I can tell you about it." + +He was even more incredulous. + +"Then it must have been on your account rather than on mine; you can bet +your sweet life on that!" + +"Hugh, darling, she's fond of you. She's fond of you all. If you could +only have--" + +"We couldn't." For the first time he showed signs of admitting me into +the family sense of disgrace. "Did you ever hear how dad came to marry +her?" + +I said that something had reached me, but one couldn't put the blame for +that on her. + +"And she's had more pull with him than we've had," he declared, +resentfully. "You can see that by the way he's given in to her on +this--" + +I soothed him on this point, however, and we talked of a general +reconciliation. From that we went on to the subject of our married life, +of which his father, in the hasty interview of half an hour before, had +briefly sketched the conditions. A place was to be found for Hugh in the +house of Meek & Brokenshire; his allowance was to be raised to twelve or +fifteen thousand a year; we were to have a modest house, or apartment in +New York. No date had been fixed for the wedding, so far as Hugh could +learn; but it might be in October. We should be granted perhaps a three +months' trip abroad, with a return to New York before Christmas. + +He gave me these details with an excitement bespeaking intense +satisfaction. It was easy to see that, after his ten months' rebellion, +he was eager to put his head under the Brokenshire yoke again. His +instinct in this was similar to Ethel's and Jack's--only that they had +never declared themselves free. I could best compare him to a horse who +for one glorious half-hour kicks up his heels and runs away, and yet +returns to the stable and the harness as the safest sphere of +blessedness. Under the Brokenshire yoke he could live, move, have his +being, and enjoy his twelve or fifteen thousand a year, without that +onerous responsibility which comes with the exercise of choice. Under +the Brokenshire yoke I, too, should be provided for. I should be raised +from my lowly estate, be given a position in the world, and, though for +a while the fact of the _mesalliance_ might tell against me, it would be +overcome in my case as in that of Libby Jaynes. His talk was a paean on +our luck. + +"All we'll have to do for the rest of our lives, little Alix, will be to +get away with our thousand dollars a month. I guess we can do +that--what? We sha'n't even have to save, because in the natural course +of events--" He left this reference to his father's demise to go on with +his hymn of self-congratulation. "But we've pulled it off, haven't we? +We've done the trick. Lord! what a relief it is! What do you think I've +been living on for the last six weeks? Chocolate and crackers for the +most part. Lost thirty pounds in two months. But it's all right now, +little Alix. I've got you and I mean to keep you." He asked, suddenly: +"How did you come to know the madam so well? I'd never had a hint of it. +You do keep some things awful close!" + +I made my answer as truthful as I could. + +"This was nothing I could tell you, Hugh. Mrs. Brokenshire was sorry for +me ever since last year in Newport. She never dared to say anything +about it, because she was afraid of your father and the rest of you; but +she did pity me--" + +"Well, I'll be blowed! I didn't suppose she had it in her. She's always +seemed to me like a woman walking in her sleep--" + +"She's waking up now. She's beginning to understand that perhaps she +hasn't taken the right attitude toward your father; and I think she'd +like to begin. It was to work that problem out that she decided to come +away with me and live simply for a while. . . . She wanted to escape +from every one, and I was the nearest to no one she could find to take +with her; and so-- If your sisters or your brother ask you any questions +I wish you would tell them that." + +We discussed this theme in its various aspects while the afternoon light +turned the pine trunks round us into columns of red-gold, and a soft +wind soothed us with balsamic smells. Birds flitted and fluted overhead, +and now and then a squirrel darted up to challenge us with the peak of +its inquisitive sharp little nose. I chose what I thought a favorable +moment to bring before Hugh the matter that had been so summarily +shelved by his father. I wanted so much to be married among my own +people and from what I could call my own home. + +His child-like, wide-apart, small blue eyes regarded me with growing +astonishment as I made my point clear. + +"For Heaven's sake, my sweet little Alix, what do you want that for? +Why, we can be married in Newport!" + +His emphasis on the word Newport was as if he had said Heaven. + +"Yes; but you see, Hugh, darling, Newport means nothing to me--" + +"It will jolly well have to if--" + +"And my home means such a lot. If you were marrying Lady Cissie Boscobel +you'd certainly go to Goldborough for the occasion." + +"Ah, but that would be different!" + +"Different in what way?" + +He colored, and grew confused. + +"Well, don't you see?" + +"No; I'm afraid I don't." + +"Oh yes, you do, little Alix," he smiled, cajolingly. "Don't try to pull +my leg. We can't have one of these bang-up weddings, as it is. Of course +we can't--and we don't want it. But they'll do the decent thing by us, +now that dad has come round at all, and let people see that they stand +behind us. If we were to go down there to where you came from--Halifax, +or wherever it is--it would put us back ten years with the people we +want to keep up with." + +I submitted again, because I didn't know what else to do. I submitted, +and yet with a rage which was the hotter for being impotent. These +people took it so easily for granted that I had no pride, and was +entitled to none. They allowed me no more in the way of antecedents than +if I had been a new creation on the day when I first met Mrs. Rossiter. +They believed in the principle of inequality of birth as firmly as if +they had been minor German royalties. My marriage to Hugh might be valid +in the eyes of the law, but to them it would always be more or less +morganatic. I could only be Duchess of Hohenberg to this young prince; +and perhaps not even that. She was noble--_adel_, as they call it--at +the least; while I was merely a nursemaid. + +But I made another grimace--and swallowed it. I could have broken out +with some vicious remark, which would have bewildered poor Hugh beyond +expression and made no change in his point of view. Even if it relieved +my pent-up bitterness, it would have left me nothing but a nursemaid; +and, since I was to marry him, why disturb the peace? And I owed him too +much not to marry him; of that I was convinced. He had been kind to me +from the first day he knew me; he had been true to me in ways in which +few men would have been true. To go back on him now would not be simply +a change of mind; it would be an act of cruel treachery. No, I argued; I +could do nothing but go on with it. My debt could not be paid in any +other way. Besides, I declared to myself, with a catch in the throat, +I--I loved him. I had said it so many times that it must be true. + +When the minute came to go down the hill and prepare for the little +dinner at which I was to be included in the family, my thoughts reverted +to the event that had startled the world. + +"Isn't this terrible?" I said to Hugh, indicating the paper I carried in +my hand. + +He looked at me with the mild wondering which always made his expression +vacuous. + +"Isn't what terrible?" + +"Why, the assassinations in Bosnia." + +"Oh! I saw there had been something." + +"Something!" I cried. "It's one of the most momentous things that have +ever happened in history." + +"What makes you say that?" he inquired, turning on me the innocent stare +of his baby-blue eyes as we sauntered between the pine trunks. + +I had to admit that I didn't know, I only felt it in my bones. + +"Aren't they always doing something of the sort down there--killing +kings and queens, or something?" + +"Oh, not like this!" I paused. "You know, Hugh, Serbia is a wonderful +little country when you've heard a bit of its story." + +"Is it?" He took out a cigarette and lit it. + +In the ardor of my sympathy I poured out on him some of the information +I had just acquired. + +"And we're all responsible," I was finishing; "English, French, +Russians, Austrians--" + +"We're not responsible--we Americans," he broke in, quietly. + +"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. If you inherit the civilization of the +races from which you spring you inherit some of their crimes; and you've +got to pay for them." + +"Not on your life!" he laughed, easily; but in the laugh there was +something that cut me more deeply than he knew. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + + +But once we were settled in Newport, I almost forgot the tragedy of +Sarajevo. The world, it seemed to me, had forgotten it, too; it had +passed into history. Franz Ferdinand and Sophie Chotek being dead and +buried, we had gone on to something else. + +Personally I had gone on to the readjustment of my life. I was with +Ethel Rossiter as a guest. Guest or retainer, however, made little +difference. She treated me just as before--with the same detached, +live-and-let-live kindliness that dropped into the old habit of making +use of me. I liked that. It kept us on a simple, natural footing. I +could see myself writing her notes and answering her telephone calls as +long as I lived. Except that now and then, when she thought of it, she +called me Alix, instead of Miss Adare, she might still have been paying +me so much a month. + +"Well, I can't get over father," was the burden of her congratulations +to me. "I knew that woman could turn him around her finger; but I didn't +suppose she could do it like that. You played your cards well in getting +hold of her." + +"I didn't play my cards," was my usual defense, "because I had none to +play.'" + +"Then what on earth brought her over to your side?" + +"Life." + +"Life--fiddlesticks! It was life with a good deal of help from Alix +Adare." She added, on one occasion: "Why didn't you take that young +Strangways--frankly, now?" + +"Because," I smiled, "I don't believe in polyandry." + +"But you're fond of him. That's what beats me! You're fond of one man +and you're marrying another; and yet--" + +I don't know what color I turned outwardly, but within I was fire. It +was the fire of confusion and not of indignation. I felt it safest to +let her go on, hazarding no remarks of my own. + +"And yet--what?" + +"And yet you don't seem like a girl who'd marry for money--you really +don't. That's one thing about you." + +I screwed up a wan smile. + +"Thanks." + +"So that I'm all in the dark. What you can see in Hugh--" + +"What I can see in Hugh is the kindest of men. That's a good deal to say +of any one." + +"Well, I'll be hanged if I'd marry even the kindest of men if it was for +nothing but his kindness." + +The Jack Brokenshires were jovially non-committal, letting it go at +that. In offering the necessary good wishes Jack contented himself with +calling me a sly one; while Pauline, who was mannish and horsey, wrung +my hand till she almost pulled it off, remarking that in a family like +the Brokenshires the natural principle was, The more, the merrier. +Acting, doubtless, on a hint from higher up, they included Hugh and me +in a luncheon to some twenty of their cronies, whose shibboleths I +didn't understand and among whom I was lost. + +As far as I went into general society it was so unobtrusively that I +might be said not to have gone at all. I made no sensation as the +affianced bride of Hugh Brokenshire. To the great fact of my engagement +few people paid any attention, and those who referred to it did so with +the air of forgetting it the minute afterward. It came to me with some +pain that in his own circle Hugh was regarded more or less as a +nonentity. I was a "queer Canadian." Newport presented to me a hard, +polished exterior, like a porcelain wall. It was too high to climb over +and it afforded no nooks or crevices in which I might find a niche. No +one ever offered me the slightest hint of incivility--or of interest. + +"It's because they've too much to do and to think of," Mrs. Brokenshire +explained to me. "They know too many people already. Their lives are too +full. Money means nothing to them, because they've all got so much of +it. Quiet good breeding isn't striking enough. Cleverness they don't +care anything about--and not even for scandals outside their own close +corporation. All the same"--I waited while she formulated her +opinion--"all the same, a great deal could be done in Newport--in New +York--in Washington--in America at large--if we had the right sort of +women." + +"And haven't you?" + +"No. Our women are--how shall I say?--too small--too parochial--too +provincial. They've no national outlook; they've no authority. Few of +them know how to use money or to hold high positions. Our men hardly +ever turn to them for advice on important things, because they've rarely +any to give." + +Her remarks showed so much more of the reflecting spirit than I had ever +seen in her before, that I was emboldened to ask: + +"Then, couldn't you show them how?" + +She shook her head. + +"No; I'm an American, like the rest. It isn't in me. It's both personal +and national. Cissie Boscobel could do it--not because she's clever or +has had experience, but because the tradition is there. We've no +tradition." + +The tradition in Cissie Boscobel became evident on a day in July when +she came to sit beside me in the grounds of the Casino. I had gone with +Mrs. Rossiter, with whom I had been watching the tennis. When she +drifted away with a group of her friends I was left alone. It was then +that Lady Cecilia, in tennis things, with her racket in her hand, came +across the grass to me. She moved with the splendid careless freedom of +women who pass their lives outdoors and yet are trained to +drawing-rooms. + +She didn't go to her point at once; she was, in fact, a mistress of the +introductory. The visits she had made and the people she had met since +our last meeting were the theme of her remarks; and now she was staying +with the Burkes. She would remain with them for a month, after which she +had two or three places to go to on Long Island and in the Catskills. +She would have to be at Strath-na-Cloid in September, for the wedding of +her sister Janet and the young man in the Inverness Rangers, who would +then have got home from India. She would be sorry to leave. She adored +America. Americans were such fun. Their houses were so fresh and new. +She doted on the multiplicity of bathrooms. It would be so horrid to +live at Strath-na-Cloid or Dillingham Hall after the cheeriness of Mrs. +Burke's or Mrs. Rossiter's. + +Screwing up her greenish cat-like eyes till they were no more than tiny +slits with a laugh in them, she said, with her deliciously incisive +utterance: + +"So you've done it, haven't you?" + +"You mean that Mr. Brokenshire has come round." + +"You know, that seems to me the most wonderful thing I ever heard of! +It's like a miracle isn't it? You've hardly lifted a finger--and yet +here it is." She leaned forward, her firm hands grasping the racket that +lay across her knees. "I want to tell you how much I admire you. You're +splendid! You're not a bit like a Colonial, are you?" + +Since she meant well, I mastered my indignation. + +"Oh yes, I am. I'm exactly like a Colonial, and very proud of the fact." + +"Fancy! And are all Colonials like you?" + +"All that aren't a great deal cleverer and better." + +"Fancy!" she breathed again. "I must tell them when I go home. They +don't know it, you know." She added, in a slight change of key: "I'm so +glad Hugh is going to have a wife like you." + +It was on my tongue to say, "He'd be much better off with a wife like +you"; but I made it: + +"What do you think it will do for him?" + +"It will bring him out. Hugh is splendid in his way--just as you +are--only he needs bringing out, don't you think?" + +"He hasn't needed bringing out in the last ten months," I declared, with +some emphasis. "See what he's done--" + +"And yet he didn't pull it off, did he? You managed that. You'll manage +a lot of other things for him, too. I must go back to the others," she +continued, getting up. "They're waiting for me to make up the set. But I +wanted to tell you I'm--I'm glad--without--without any--any reserves." + +I think there were tears in her narrow eyes, as I know there were in my +own; but she beat such a hasty retreat that I could not be very sure of +it. + +Mildred Brokenshire was a surprise to me. I had hardly ever seen her +till she sent for me in order to talk about Hugh. I found her lying on a +couch in a dim corner of her big, massively furnished room, her face no +more than a white pain-pinched spot in the obscurity. After having +kissed me she made me sit at a distance, nominally to get the breeze +through an open window, but really that I might not have to look at her. + +In an unnaturally hollow, tragic voice she said it was a pleasure to her +that Hugh should have got at last the woman he loved, especially after +having made such a fight for her. Though she didn't know me, she was +sure I had fine qualities; otherwise Hugh would not have cared for me as +he did. He was a dear boy, and a good wife could make much of him. He +lacked initiative in the way that was unfortunately common among rich +men's sons, especially in America; but the past winter had shown that he +was not deficient in doggedness. She wondered if I loved him as much as +he loved me. + +There was that in this suffering woman, so far withdrawn from our +struggles in the world outside, which prompted me to be as truthful as +the circumstances rendered possible. + +"I love him enough, dear Miss Brokenshire," I said, with some emotion, +"to be eager to give my life to the object of making him happy." + +She accepted this in silence. At least it was silence for a time, after +which she said, in measured, organ-like tones: + +"We can't make other people happy, you know. We can only do our +duty--and let their happiness take care of itself. They must make +themselves happy! It's a mistake for any of us to feel responsible for +more than doing right. "When we do right other people must make the best +they can of it." + +"I believe that, too," I responded, earnestly--"only that it's sometimes +so hard to tell what is right." + +There was again an interval of silence. The voice, when it came out of +the dimness, might have been that of the Pythian virgin oracle. The +utterances I give were not delivered consecutively, but in answer to +questions and observations of my own. + +"Right, on the whole, is what we've been impelled to do when we've been +conscientiously seeking the best way. . . . Forces catch us, often +contradictory and bewildering forces, and carry us to a certain act, or +to a certain line of action. Very well, then; be satisfied. Don't go +back. Don't torture yourself with questionings. Don't dig up what has +already been done. That's done! Nothing can undo it. Accept it as it is. +If there's a wrong or a mistake in it life will take care of it. . . . +Life is not a blind impulse, working blindly. It's a beneficent, +rectifying power. It's dynamic. It's a perpetual unfolding. It's a fire +that utilizes as fuel everything that's cast into it. . . ." + +And yet when I kissed her to say good-by I got the impression that she +didn't like me or that she didn't trust me. I was not always liked, but +I was generally trusted. The idea that this Brokenshire seeress, this +suffering priestess whose whole life was to lie on a couch and think, +and think, and think, had reserves in her consciousness on my account +was painful. I said so to Hugh that evening. + +"Oh, you mustn't take Mildred's gassing too seriously," he advised. +"Gets a lot of ideas in her head: but--poor thing--what else can she do? +Since she doesn't know anything about real life, she just spins +theories on the subject. Whatever you want to know, little Alix, I'll +tell you." + +"Thanks," I said, dryly, explaining the shiver which ran through me by +the fact that we were sitting in the loggia, in the open air. + +"Then we'll go in." + +"No, no!" I protested. "I like it much better out here." + +But he was on his feet. + +"We'll go in. I can't have my sweet little Alix taking cold. I'm here to +protect her. She must do what I tell her. We'll go in." + +And we went in. It was one of the things I was learning, that my kind +Hugh would kill me with kindness. It was part of his way of taking +possession. If he could help it he wouldn't leave me for an hour +unwatched; nor would he let me lift a hand. + +"There are servants to do that," he would say. "It's one of the things +little Alix will have to get accustomed to." + +"I can't get accustomed to doing nothing, Hugh." + +"You'll have plenty to do in having a good time." + +"Oh, but I must have more than that in life." + +"In your old life, perhaps; but everything is to be different now. Don't +be afraid, little Alix; you'll learn." + +"Learn what? It seems to me you're taking the possibility of ever +learning anything away." + +This was a joke. Over it he laughed heartily. + +"You won't know yourself, little Alix, when I've had you for a year." + +Mr. Brokenshire's compliments to me were in a similar vein. He seemed +always to be in search of the superior position he had lost on the day +we sat looking up into the hillside wood. His dear Alexandra must never +forget her social inexperience. In being raised to a higher level I was +to watch the manners of those about me. I was to copy them, as people +learning French or Italian try to catch an accent which is not that of +their mother tongue. They probably do it badly; but that is better than +not doing it at all. I could never be an Ethel Rossiter or a Daisy +Burke, but I could become an imitation. Imitations being to the house of +Brokenshire like paste diamonds or fish-glue pearls, my gratitude for +the effort they made in accepting me had to be the more humble. + +And yet on occasions I tried to get justice for myself. + +"I'm not altogether without knowledge of the world, Mr. Brokenshire," I +said, after one of his kindly, condescending lectures. "Not only in +Canada, but in England, and to some slight extent abroad, I've had +opportunities--" + +"Yes, yes; but this is different. You've had opportunities, as you say. +But there you were looking on from the outside, while here you'll be +living from within." + +"Oh, but I wasn't looking on from the outside--" + +His hand went up; his pitiful crooked smile was meant to express +tolerance. "You'll pardon me, my dear; but we gain nothing by discussing +that point. You'll see it yourself when you've been one of us a little +longer. Meantime, if you watch the women about you and study them--" + +We left it there. I always left it there. But I did begin to see that +there was a difference between me and the women whom Hugh and his father +wished me to take as my models. I had hitherto not observed this +variation in type--I might possibly call it this distinction between +national ideals--during my two years under the Stars and Stripes; and I +find a difficulty in expressing it, for the reason that to anything I +say so many exceptions can be made. The immense class of wage-earning +women would be exceptions; mothers and housekeepers would again be +exceptions; exceptions would be all women engaged in political or social +or philanthropic service to the country; but when this allowance has +been made there still remain a multitude of American women economically +independent, satisfied to be an incubus on the land. They dress, they +entertain, they go to entertainments, they live gracefully. When they +can't help it they bear children; but they bear as few as possible. +Otherwise they are not much more than pleasing forms of vegetation, idle +of body and mind; and the American man, as a rule, loves to have it so. + +"The American man," Mrs. Rossiter had said to me once, "likes +figurines." Hugh was a rebel to that doctrine, she had added then; but +his rebellion had been short-lived. He had come back to the standard of +his countrymen. He had chosen me, he used to say, because I was a woman +of whom a Socialist might make his star; and now I was to be put in a +vitrine. + +Canadian women, as a class, are not made for the vitrine. Their instinct +is to be workers in the world and mates for men. They have no very high +opinion of their privileges; they are not self-analytical. They rarely +think of themselves as the birds and flowers of the human race, or as +other than creatures to put their shoulders to the wheel in the ways of +which God made them mistresses. Not ashamed to know how to bake and brew +and mend and sew, they rule the house with a practically French +economy. I was brought up in that way; not ignorant of books or of +social amenities, but with the assumption that I was in this world to +contribute something to it by my usefulness. I hadn't contributed much, +Heaven only knows; but the impulse to work was instinctive. + +And as Hugh's wife I began to see that I should be lifted high and dry +into a sphere where there was nothing to be done. I should dress and I +should amuse myself; I should amuse myself and I should dress. It was +all Mrs. Rossiter did; it was all Mrs. Brokenshire did--except that to +her, poor soul, amusement had become but gall and bitterness. Still, +with the large exceptions which I cheerfully concede, it was the +American ideal, so far as I could get hold of it; and I began to feel +that, in the long run, it would stifle me. + +It was a kind of feminine Nirvana. It offered me nothing to strive for, +nothing to wait for in hope, nothing to win gloriously. The wife of +Larry Strangways, whoever she turned out to be, would have a goal before +her, high up and far ahead, with the incentive of lifelong striving. +Hugh Brokenshire's wife would have everything done for her, as it was +done for Mildred. Like Mildred she would have nothing to do but think +and think and think--or train herself to not thinking at all. Little by +little I saw myself being steered toward this fate; and, like St. Peter, +when I thought thereon I wept. + +I had taken to weeping all alone in my pretty room, which looked out on +shrubberies and gardens. I should probably have shrubberies and gardens +like them some day; so that weeping was the more foolish. Every one +considered me fortunate. All my Canadian and English friends spoke of me +as a lucky girl, and, in their downright, practical way, said I was +"doing very well for myself." + +Of course I was--which made it criminal on my part not to take the +Brokenshire view of things with equanimity. I tried to. I bent my will +to it. I bent my spirit to it. In the end I might have succeeded if the +heavenly trumpet had not sounded again, with another blast from +Sarajevo. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + + +As I have already said, I had almost forgotten Sarajevo. The illustrated +papers had shown us a large coffin raised high and a small one set low, +telling us of unequal rank, even at the Great White Throne. I had a +thought for that from time to time; but otherwise Franz Ferdinand and +Sophie Chotek were less to me than Caesar or Napoleon. + +But toward the end of July there was a sudden rumbling. It was like that +first disquieting low note of the "Rheingold," rising from elemental +depths, presaging love and adventure and war and death and defeat and +triumph, and the end of the old gods and the burning of their Valhalla. +I cannot say that any of us knew its significance; but it was arresting. + +"What does it mean?" + +I think Cissie Boscobel was the first to ask me that question, to which +I could only reply by asking it in my own turn. What did it mean--this +ultimatum from Vienna to Belgrade? Did it mean anything? Could it +possibly mean what dinner-table diplomats hinted at between a laugh and +a look of terror? + +Hugh and I were descending the Rossiter lawn on a bright afternoon near +the end of July. Cissie, who was passing with some of the Burkes, ran +over the grass toward us. Had we seen the papers? Had we read the +Austrian note? Could we make anything out of it? + +I recall her as an extraordinarily vivid picture against the background +of blue sea, in white, with a green-silk tunic embroidered in peacock's +feathers, with long jade ear-rings and big jade beads, and a +jade-colored plume in a black-lace hat cocked on her flaming hair as she +alone knew how to cock it. I merely want to point out here that to +Cissie Boscobel and me the questions she asked already possessed a +measure of life-and-death importance; while to Hugh they had none at +all. + +I remember him as he stood aloof from us, strong and stocky and +summer-like in his white flannels, a type of that safe and separated +America which could afford to look on at Old World tragedies and feel +them of no personal concern. To him Cissie Boscobel and I, with anxiety +in our eyes and something worse already clutching at our hearts, were +but two girls talking of things they didn't understand and of no great +interest, anyway. + +"Come along, little Alix!" he interrupted, gaily. "Cissie will excuse +us. The madam is waiting to motor us over to South Portsmouth, and I +don't want to keep her waiting. You know," he explained, proudly, "she +thinks this little girl is a peach!" + +Cissie ran back to join the Burkes and we continued our way along the +Cliff Walk to Mr. Brokenshire's. Hugh had come for me in order that we +might have the stroll together. + +I gave him my view of the situation as we went along, though in it there +was nothing original. + +"You see, if Austria attacks Serbia, then Russia must attack Austria; in +which case Germany will attack Russia, and France will attack Germany. +Then England will certainly have to pitch in." + +"But we won't. We shall be out of it." + +The complacency of his tone nettled me. + +"But I sha'n't be out of it, Hugh." + +He laughed. + +"You? What could you do, little lightweight?" + +"I don't know; but whatever it was I should want to be doing it." + +This joke might have been characterized as a screamer. He threw back his +head with a loud guffaw. + +"Well, of all the little spitfires!" Catching me by the arm, he hugged +me to him, as we were hidden in a rocky nook of the path. "Why, you're a +regular Amazon! A soldier in your way would be no more than a ninepin in +a bowling-alley." + +I didn't enter into the spirit of this pleasantry. On the contrary, I +concealed my anger in endeavoring to speak with dignity. + +"And, what's more, Hugh, than not being out of it myself, I don't see +how I could marry a man who was. Of course, no such war will come to +pass. It couldn't! The world has gone beyond that sort of madness. We +know too well the advantages of peace. But if it should break out--" + +"I'll buy you a popgun with the very first shot that's fired." + +But in August, when the impossible had happened, when Germany had +invaded Belgium, and France had moved to her eastern frontier, and +Russia was pouring into Prussia, and English troops were on foreign +continental soil for the first time in fifty years, Hugh's indifference +grew painful. He was perhaps not more indifferent than any one else with +whom I was thrown, but to me he seemed so because he was so near me. He +read the papers; he took a sporting interest in the daily events; but it +resembled--to my mind at least--the interest of an eighteenth-century +farmer's lad excited at a cockfight. It was somewhat in the spirit of +"Go it, old boy!" to each side indifferently. + +If he took sides at all it was rather on that to which Cissie Boscobel +and I were nationally opposed; but this, we agreed, was to tease us. So +far as opinions of his own were concerned, he was neutral. He meant by +that that he didn't care a jot who lost or who won, so long as America +was out of the fray and could eat its bread in safety. + +"There are more important things than safety," I said to him, +scornfully, one day. + +"Such as--" + +But when I gave him what seemed to me the truisms of life he was +contented to laugh in my face. + +Cissie Boscobel was more patient with him than I was. I have always +admired in the English that splendid tolerance which allows to others +the same liberty of thinking they claim for themselves; but in this +instance I had none of it. Hugh was too much a part of myself. When he +said, as he was fond of saying, "If Germany gets at poor degenerate old +England she'll crumple her up," Lady Cissie could fling him a pitying, +confident smile, with no venom in it whatever, while I became bitter or +furious. + +Fortunately, Mr. Brokenshire was called to New York on business +connected with the war, so that his dear Alexandra was delivered for a +while from his daily condescensions. Though Hugh didn't say so in actual +words, I inferred that the struggle would further enrich the house of +Meek & Brokenshire. Of the vast sums it would handle a commission would +stick to its fingers, and if the business grew too heavy for the usual +staff to deal with Hugh's own energies were to be called into play. His +father, he told me, had said so. It would be an eye-opener to Cousin +Andrew Brew, he crowed, to see him helping to finance the European War +within a year after that slow-witted nut had had the hardihood to refuse +him! + +In the Brokenshire villa the animation was comparable to a suppressed +fever. Mr. Brokenshire came back as often as he could. Thereupon there +followed whispered conferences between him and Jack, between him and Jim +Rossiter, between him and kindred magnates, between three and four and +six and eight of them together, with a ceaseless stream of telegrams, of +the purport of which we women knew nothing. We gave dinners and lunches, +and bathed at Bailey's, and played tennis at the Casino, and lived in +our own little lady-like Paradise, shut out from the interests +convulsing the world. Knitting had not yet begun. The Red Cross had +barely issued its appeals. America, with the speed of the +Franco-Prussian War in mind, was still under the impression that it +could hardly give its philanthropic aid before the need for it would be +over. + +Of all our little coterie Lady Cissie and I alone perhaps took the sense +of things to heart. Even with us, it was the heart that acted rather +than the intelligence. So far as intelligence went, we were convinced +that, once Great Britain lifted her hand, all hostile nations would +tremble. That was a matter of course. It amazed us that people round us +should talk of our enemy's efficiency. The word was just coming into +use, always with the implication that the English were inefficient and +unprepared. + +That would have made us laugh if those who said such things hadn't said +them like Hugh, with detached, undisturbed deliberation, as a matter +that was nothing to them. Many of them hoped, and hoped ardently, that +the side represented by England, Russia, and France would be victorious; +but if it wasn't, America would still be able to sit down to eat and +drink, and rise up to play, as we were doing at the moment, while +nothing could shake her from her ease. + +Owing to our kinship in sentiment, Lady Cissie and I drew closer +together. We gave each other bits of information in which no one else +would have had an interest. She was getting letters from England; I from +England and Canada. Her brother Leatherhead had been ordered to France +with his regiment--was probably there. Her brother Rowan, who had been +at Sandhurst, had got his commission. The young man her sister Janet was +engaged to had sailed with the Rangers for Marseilles and would go at +once to the front instead of coming home. If he could get leave the +young couple would be married hastily, after which he would return to +his duty. My sister Louise wrote that her husband's ship was in the +North Sea and that her news of him was meager. The husband of my sister +Victoria, who had had a staff appointment at Gibraltar, had been ordered +to rejoin his regiment; and he, too, would soon be in Belgium. + +From Canada I heard of that impulse toward recruiting which was +thrilling the land from the Island of Vancouver, in the Pacific, to that +of Cape Breton, in the Atlantic, and in which the multitudes were of one +heart and one soul. Men came from farms, factories, and fisheries; they +came from banks and shops and mines. They tramped hundreds of miles, +from the Yukon, from Ungava, and from Hudson Bay. They arrived in troops +or singly, impelled by nothing but that love which passes the love of +women--the love of race, the love of country, the love of honor, the +love of something vast and intangible and inexplicable, that comes as +near as possible to that love of man which is almost the love of God. + +I can proudly say that among my countrymen it was this, and it was +nothing short of this. They were as far from the fray as their neighbors +to the south, and as safe. Belgium and Serbia meant less to most of them +than to the people of San Francisco, Chicago, and New York; but a great +cause, almost indefinable to thought, meant everything. To that cause +they gave themselves--not sparingly or grudgingly, but like Araunah the +Jebusite to David the son of Jesse, "as a king gives unto a king." + +Men are wonderful to me--all men of all races. They face hardship so +cheerfully and dangers so gaily, and death so serenely. This is true of +men not only in war, but in peace--of men not only as saints, but as +sinners. And among men it seems to me that our Colonial men are in the +first rank of the manliest. Frenchman, German, Austrian, Italian, +Russian, Englishman, and Turk had each some visible end to gain. They +couldn't help going. They couldn't help fighting. Our men had nothing to +gain that mortal eyes could see. They have endured, "as seeing Him who +is invisible." + +They have come from the far ends of the earth, and are still +coming--turning their backs on families and business and pleasure and +profit and hope. They have counted the world well lost for love--for a +true love--a man's love--a redemptive love if ever there was one; for +"greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for +his friends." + +But when, with my heart flaming, I spoke of this to Lady Cecilia, she +was cold. "Fancy!" was the only comment she ever made on the subject. +Toward my own intensity of feeling she was courteous; but she plainly +felt that in a war in which the honors would be to the professional +soldier, and to the English professional soldier first of all, Colonials +were out of place. It was somewhat presumptuous of them to volunteer. + +She was a splendid character--with British limitations. Among those +limitations her attitude toward Colonials was, as I saw things, the +first. She rarely spoke of Canadians or Australians; it was always of +Colonials, with a delicately disdainful accent on the word impossible to +transcribe. Geography, either physical or ethnic, was no more her strong +point than it is that of other women; and I think she took Colonials to +be a kind of race of aborigines, like the Maoris or the Hottentots--only +that by some freak of nature they were white. So, whenever my heart was +so hot that I could contain myself no longer, and I poured out my +foolish tales of the big things we hoped to do for the empire and the +world, the dear thing would merely utter her dazed, "Fancy!" and strike +me dumb. + +And it all threw me back on the thought of Larry Strangways. Reader, if +you suppose that I had forgotten him you are making a mistake. +Everything made my heart cry out for him--Hugh's inanity; his father's +lumbering dignity; Mildred's sepulchral apothegms, which were deeper +than I could fathom and higher than I could scale; Cissie Boscobel's +stolid scorn of my country; and Newport's whole attitude of taking no +notice of me or mine. Whenever I had minutes of rebellion or stress it +was on Larry Strangways I called, with an agonized appeal to him to come +to me. It was a purely rhetorical appeal, let me say in passing. As it +would never reach him, he could not respond to it; but it relieved my +repressed emotions to send it out on the wings of the spirit. It was +the only vehicle I could trust; and even that betrayed me--for he came. + +He came one hot afternoon about the 20th of August. His card was brought +to me by the rosebud Thomas as I was taking a siesta up-stairs. + +"Tell Mr. Strangways I shall come down at once," I said to my footman +knight; but after he had gone I sat still. + +I sat still to estimate my strength. If Larry Strangways made such an +appeal to me as I had made to him, should I have the will-power to +resist him? I could only reply that I must have it! There was no other +way. When Hugh had been so true to me it was impossible to be other than +true to him. It was no longer a question of love, but of right: and I +couldn't forsake my maxim. + +Nevertheless, when I threw off my dressing-gown instinct compelled me to +dress at my prettiest. To be sure, my prettiest was only a flowered +muslin and a Leghorn hat, in which I resembled the vicar's daughter in a +Royal Academy picture; but if I was never to see Larry Strangways again +I wanted the vision in his heart to be the most decent possible. As I +dressed I owned to myself that I loved him. I had never done so before, +because I had never known it--or rather, I had known it from that +evening on the train when I had seen nothing but his traveling-cap; only +I had strangled the knowledge in my heart. I meant to strangle it again. +I should strangle it the minute I went down-stairs. But for this little +interval, just while I was fastening my gown and pinning on my hat, it +seemed to me of no great harm to let the unfortunate passion come out +for a breath in the sunlight. + +And yet, after having rehearsed all the romantic speeches I should make +in giving him up forever, he never mentioned love to me at all. On the +contrary, he had on that gleaming smile which, from the beginning of our +acquaintance, was like the flash of a sword held up between him and me. +When he came forward from a corner of the long, dim drawing-room all the +embarrassment was on my side. + +"I suppose you wonder what brings me," were the words he uttered when +shaking hands. + +I tried to murmur politely that, whatever it was, I was glad to see +him--only the words refused to form themselves. + +"Can't we go out?" he asked, as I cast about me for chairs. "It's so +stuffy in here." + +I led the way through the hall, picking up a rose-colored parasol of +Mrs. Rossiter's as we passed the umbrella-stand. + +"How much money have you got?" he asked, abruptly, as soon as we were on +the terrace. + +I made an effort to gather my wits from the far fields into which they +had wandered. + +"Do you mean in ready cash? Or how much do I own in all?" + +"How much in all?" + +I told him--just a few thousand dollars, the wreckage of what my father +had left. My total income, apart from what I earned, was about four +hundred dollars a year. + +"I want it," he said, as we descended the steps to the lower terrace. +"How soon could you let me have it?" + +I made the reckoning as we went down the lawn toward the sea. I should +have to write to my uncle, who would sell my few bonds and forward me +the proceeds. Mr. Strangways himself said that would take a week. + +"I'm going to make a small fortune for you," he laughed, in explanation. +"All the nations of the earth are beginning to send to us for munitions, +and Stacy Grainger is right on the spot with the goods. There'll be a +demand for munitions for years to come--" + +"Oh, not for years to come!" I exclaimed. "Only till the end of the +war." + +"'But the end is not by and by,'" he quoted from the Bible. "It's a long +way off from by and by--believe me! We're up against the struggle +mankind has been getting ready for ever since it's had a history. I +don't want just to make money out of it; but, since money's to be +made--since we can't help making it--I want you to be in on it." + +I didn't thank him, because I had something else on my mind. + +"Perhaps you don't know that I'm engaged to Hugh Brokenshire. We're to +be married before we move back to New York." + +"Yes, I do know it. That's the reason I'm suggesting this. You'll want +some money of your own, in order to feel independent. If you don't have +it the Brokenshire money will break you down." + +I don't know what I said, or whether I was able to say anything. There +was something in this practical care-taking interest that moved me more +than any love declaration he could have made. He was renouncing me in +everything but his protection. That was going with me. That was watching +over me. There was no one to watch over me in the whole world with just +this sort of devotion. + +I suppose we talked. We must have said something as we descended the +slope; I must have stammered some sort of appreciation. All I can +clearly remember is that, as we reached the steps going down to the +Cliff Walk, Hugh was coming up. + +I had forgotten that this sort of encounter was possible. I had +forgotten Hugh. When I saw his innocent, blank face staring up at us I +felt I was confronting my doom. + +"Well!" he ejaculated, as though he had caught us in some criminal +conspiracy. + +As it was for me to explain, I said, limply: + +"Mr. Strangways has been good enough to offer to make some money for me, +Hugh. Isn't that kind of him?" + +Hugh grew slowly crimson. His voice shook with passion. He came up one +step. + +"Mr. Strangways will be kinder still in minding his own business." + +"Oh, Hugh!" + +"Don't be offended, Mr. Brokenshire," Larry Strangways said, peaceably. +"I merely had the opportunity to advise Miss Adare as to her +investments--" + +"I shall advise Miss Adare as to her investments. It happens that she's +engaged to me!" + +"But she's not married to you. An engagement is not a marriage; it's +only a preliminary period in which two persons agree to consider whether +or not a marriage between them would be possible. Since that's the +situation at present, I thought it no harm to tell Miss Adare that if +she puts her money into some of the new projects for ammunition that I +know about--" + +"And I'm sure she's not interested." + +Mr. Strangways bowed. + +"That will be for her to decide. I understood her to say--" + +"Whatever you understood her to say, sir, Miss Adare is not interested! +Good afternoon." He nodded to me to come down the steps. "I was just +coming over for you. Shall we walk along together?" + +I backed away from him toward the stone balustrade. + +"But, Hugh, I can't leave Mr. Strangways like this. He's come all the +way from New York on purpose to--" + +"Then I shall defray his expense and pay him for his time; but if we're +going at all, dear--" + +At a sign of the eyes from Larry Strangways I mastered my wrath at this +insolence, and spoke meekly: + +"I didn't know we were going anywhere in particular." + +"And you'll excuse me, Mr. Brokenshire," our visitor interrupted, "if I +say that I can't be dismissed in this way by any one but Miss Adare +herself. You must remember she isn't your wife--that she's still a free +agent. Perhaps, if I explain the matter a little further--" + +Hugh put up his hand in stately imitation of his father. + +"Please! There's no need of that." + +"Oh, but there is, Hugh!" + +"You see," Mr. Strangways reasoned, "it's more than a question of making +money. We shall make money, of course; but that's only incidental. What +I'm really asking Miss Adare to do is to help one of the most glorious +causes to which mankind has ever given itself--" + +I started toward him impulsively. + +"Oh! Do you feel like that?" + +"Not like that; that's all I feel. I live it! I've no other thought." + +It was curious to see how the force of this all-absorbing topic swept +Hugh away from the merely personal standpoint. + +"And you call yourself an American?" he demanded, hotly. + +"I call myself a man. I don't emphasize the American. This thing +transcends what we call nationality." + +Hugh shouted, somewhat in the tone of a man kicking against the pricks: + +"Not what I call nationality! It's got nothing to do with us." + +"Ah, but it will have something to do with us! It isn't merely a +European struggle; it's a universal one. Sooner or later you'll see +mankind divided into just two camps." + +Hugh warmed to the discussion. + +"Even if we do, it still doesn't follow that we'll all be in your camp." + +"That depends on whether we're among those driving forward or those +kicking back. The American people has been in the first of these classes +hitherto; it remains to be seen whether or not it's there still. But if +it isn't as a nation I can tell you that some of us will be there as +individuals." + +Hugh's tone was one of horror. + +"You mean that you'd go and fight?" + +"That's about the size of it." + +"Then you'd be a traitor to your country for getting her into trouble." + +"If I had to choose between being a traitor to my country and a traitor +to my manhood I'd take the first. Fortunately, no such alternative will +be thrust upon us. Miss Adare pointed out to me once that there couldn't +be two right courses, each opposed to the other. Right and rights must +be harmonious. If I'm true to myself I'm true to my country; and I can't +be true to my country unless I do my 'bit,' as the phrase begins to go, +for the good of the human race." + +"And you're really going?" I asked, breathlessly. + +"As soon as I can arrange things with Mr."--but he remembered he was +speaking to a Brokenshire--"as soon as I can arrange things with--with +my boss. He's willing to let me go, and to keep my job for me if I come +back. He'll take charge of my small funds and of any Miss Adare +intrusts to me. He asked me to give her that message. When it's settled +I shall start for Canada." + +"That'll do you no good," Hugh stated, triumphantly. "They won't enlist +Americans there." + +Larry Strangways smiled. + +"Oh, there are ways! If there's nothing else for it I'll swear in as a +Canadian." + +"You'd do that!" In different tones the exclamation came from Hugh and +me, simultaneously. + +I can still see Larry Strangways with his proud, fair head held high. + +"I'd do anything rather than not fight. My American birthright is as +dear to me as it is to any one; but we've reached a time when such +considerations must go by the board. For the matter of that, the more +closely we can now identify the Briton and the American, the better it +will be for the world." + +He explained this at some length. The theme was so engrossing that even +Hugh was willing to listen to the argument. People were talking already +of a world federation which would follow the war and unite all the +nations in approximate brotherhood. Larry Strangways didn't believe in +that as a possibility; at least he didn't believe in it as an immediate +possibility. There were just two nations fitted to understand each other +and act together, and if they couldn't fraternize and sympathize it was +of no use to expect that miracle from races who had nothing in common. +Get the United States and the British Empire to stand shoulder to +shoulder, and sooner or later the other peoples would line up beside +them. + +But you must begin at the beginning. Unless you started as an acorn you +couldn't be an oak; if you were not willing to be a baby you could +never become a man. There must be no more Hague conferences, with their +vast programs and ineffective means. The failure of that dream was +evident. We must be practical; we mustn't soar beyond the possible. The +possible and the practical lay in British and American institutions and +commonly understood principles. The world had an asset in them that had +never been worked. To work it was the task not primarily of governments, +but, first and before everything, of individuals. It was up to the +British and American man and woman in their personal lives and opinions. + +I interrupted to say that it was up to the American man and woman first +of all; that British willingness to co-operate with America was far more +ready than any similar sentiment on the American side. + +Hugh threw the stress on efficiency. America was so thorough in her +methods that she couldn't co-operate with British muddling. + +"What is efficiency?" Larry Strangways asked. "It's the best means of +doing what you want to do, isn't it? Well, then, efficiency is a matter +of your ambitions. There's the efficiency of the watch-dog who loves his +master and guards the house, and there's the efficiency of the tiger in +the jungle. One has one's choice." + +It was not a question, he continued to reason, as to who began this +war--whether it was a king or a czar or a kaiser. It was not a question +of English and German competition, or of French or Russian aggression, +or fear of it. The inquiry went back of all that. It went back beyond +modern Europe, beyond the Middle Ages, beyond Rome and Assyria and +Egypt. It was a battle of principles rather than of nations--the last +great struggle between reason and force--the fight between the instinct +of some men to rule other men and the contrary instinct, implanted more +or less in all men, that they shall hold up their heads and rule +themselves. + +It was part of the impulse of the human race to forge ahead and upward. +The powers that worked against liberty had been arming themselves, not +merely for a generation or a century, but since the beginning of time, +for just this trial of strength. The effort would be colossal and it +would be culminating; no human being would be spared taking part in it. +If America didn't come in of her own accord she would be compelled to +come in; and meantime he, Larry Strangways, was going of free will. + +He didn't express it in just this way. He put it humbly, colloquially, +with touches of slang. + +"I've got to be on the job, Miss Adare, and there are no two ways about +it," were the words in which he ended. "I've just run down from New York +to speak about--about the money; and--and to bid you good-by." He +glanced toward Hugh. "Possibly, in view of the fact that I'm so soon to +be off--and may not come back, you know," he added, with a laugh--"Mr. +Brokenshire won't mind if--if we shake hands." + +I can say to Hugh's credit that he gave us a little while together. +Going down the steps he had mounted, he called back, over his shoulder: + +"I'm going off for a walk, dear. I shall return in exactly fifteen +minutes; and I expect you to be ready for me then." + +But when we were alone we had little or nothing to say. I recall that +quarter of an hour as a period of emotional paralysis. I knew and he +knew that each second ticked off an instant that all the rest of our +lives we should long for in vain; and yet we didn't know how to make use +of it. + +We began to wander slowly up the slope. We did it aimlessly, stopping +when we were only a few yards away from the steps. We talked about the +money. We talked about his going to Canada. We talked about the breaking +off, so far as we knew, of all intercourse between Mr. Grainger and Mrs. +Brokenshire. But we said nothing about ourselves. We said nothing about +anything but what was superficial and trite and lame. + +Once or twice Larry Strangways took out his watch and glanced at it, as +if to underscore the fact that the sands were slipping away. I kept my +face hidden as much as possible beneath the rose-colored parasol. So far +as I could judge, he looked over my head. We still had said +nothing--there was still nothing we could say--when, beneath the bank of +the lawn, and moving back in our direction, we saw the crown of Hugh's +Panama. + +"Good-by!" Larry Strangways said, then. + +"Good-by!" + +My hand rested in his without pressure; without pressure his had taken +mine. I think his eyes made one last wild, desperate appeal to me but if +so I was unable to respond to it. + +I don't know how it happened that he turned his back and walked firmly +up the lawn. I don't know how it happened that I also turned and took +the necessary steps toward Hugh. All I can say is--and I can say it only +in this way--all I can say is, I felt that I had died. + +That is, I felt that I had died except for one queer, bracing echo which +suddenly come back to me. It was in the words Mildred Brokenshire had +used, and which, at the time, I had thought too deep for me to +understand: + +"Life is not a blind impulse working blindly. It is a beneficent +rectifying power." + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + +As Hugh Brokenshire and I were walking along the Ocean Drive a few days +after Larry Strangways had come and gone, the dear lad got some +satisfaction from charging me with inconsistency. + +"You're certainly talking about England and Canada to-day very +differently from what you used to." + +"Am I? Well, if it seems so it's because you don't understand the +attitude of Canadians toward their mother country. As a country, as a +government, England has been magnificently true to us always. It's only +between Englishmen and Canadians as individuals that irritation arises, +and for that most Canadians don't care. The Englishman snubs and the +Canadian grows bumptious. I don't think the Canadian would grow +bumptious if the Englishman didn't snub. Both snubbing and bumptiousness +are offensive to me; but that, I suppose, is because I'm over-sensitive. +And yet one forgets sensitiveness when it comes to anything really +national. In that we're one, with as perfect a solidarity as that which +binds Oregon to Florida. You'll never find one of us who isn't proud to +serve when England gives the orders." + +"To be snubbed by her for serving." + +"Certainly; to be snubbed by her for serving! It's all we look for; it's +all we shall ever get. No one need make any mistake about that. In +Canada we're talking of sending fifty thousand troops to the front. We +may send five hundred thousand and we shall still be snubbed. But we're +not such children as to go into a cause in the hope that some one will +give us sweets. We do it for the Cause. We know, too, that it isn't +exactly injustice on the English side; it's only ungraciousness." + +"Oh, they're long on ungraciousness, all right." + +"Yes; they're very long on ungraciousness--" + +"Even dad feels that. You should hear him cuss after he's been kotowing +to some British celebrity--and given him the best of all he's got--and +put him up at the good clubs. They bring him letters in shoals, you +know--" + +"I'm afraid it has to be admitted that the best-mannered among them are +often rude from our transatlantic point of view; and yet the very +rudeness is one of the defects of their good qualities. You can no more +take the ungraciousness out of the English character than you can take +the hardness out of granite; but if granite wasn't hard it wouldn't +serve its purposes. We Canadians know that, don't you see? We allow for +it in advance, just as you allow for the clumsiness of the elephant for +the sake of his strength and sagacity. We're not angels +ourselves--neither you Americans nor we Canadians; and yet we like to +get the credit for such small merits as we possess." + +Hugh whipped off the blossom of a roadside flower as he swung his stick. + +"All they give us credit for is money." + +"Well, they certainly give you a great deal of credit for that!" I +laughed. "They make a golden calf of you. They fall down and worship +you, like the children of Israel in the wilderness. When we're as rich +as we shall be some day they'll do the same by us." + +Within a week my intercourse with Hugh had come to be wholly along +international lines. We were no longer merely a man and a woman; we were +types; we were points of view. The world-struggle--the time-struggle, as +Larry Strangways would have called it--had broken out in us. The +interlocking of human destinies had become apparent. As positively as +Franz Ferdinand and Sophie Chotek, we had our part in the vast drama. +Even Hugh, against all his inclinations to hang back, was obliged to +take his share. So lost were we in the theme that, as we tramped along, +we had not a thought for the bracing wind, the ruffled seas, the dashing +of surf over ledges, or the exquisite, gentle savagery of the rocky +flowering uplands, with villas marking the sky-line as they do on the +Cote d'Azur. + +I was the more willing to discuss the subject since I felt it a kind of +mission from Mr. Strangways to carry out the object he had so much at +heart. I was to be--so far as so humble a body as I could be it--an +interpreter of the one country to the other. I reckoned that if I +explained and explained and explained, and didn't let myself grow tired +of explaining, some little shade of the distrust which each of the great +English-speaking nations has for its fellow might be scrubbed away. I +couldn't do much, but the value of all effort is in proportion to the +opportunity. So I began with Hugh. + +"You see, Hugh, peoples are like people. Each of us has his weak points +as well as his strong ones; but we don't necessarily hate each other on +that account. You've lived in England, and you know the English rub you +up the wrong way. I've lived there, too, and had exactly the same +experience. But we go through just that thing with lots of individuals +with whom we manage to be very good friends. You and your brother Jack, +for instance, don't hit it off so very well; and yet you contrive to be +Brokenshires together and uphold the honor of the family." + +"I'm a Socialist and Jack's a snob--" + +"That's it. Mentally you're the world apart. But, as you've objects in +common to work for, you get along fairly well. Now why shouldn't the +Englishman and the American do the same? Why should they always see how +much they differ instead of how much they are alike? Why should they +always underscore each other's faults when by seeing each other's good +points they could benefit not only themselves, but the world? If there +was an entente, let us say, between the British Empire and the United +States--not exactly an alliance, perhaps, if people are afraid of the +word--" + +He stopped and wheeled round suddenly, suspicion in his small, +myosotis-colored eyes. + +"Look here, little Alix; isn't this the dope that fresh guy Strangways +was handing out the other day?" + +I flushed, but I didn't stammer. + +"I don't care whether it is or not. Besides, it isn't dope; it's food; +it's medicine; it's a remedy for the ills of this poor old civilization. +We've got it in our power, we English-speaking peoples--" + +"You haven't," he declared, coolly. "Your country would still be the +goat." + +"Yes," I agreed, "Canada would still be the goat; but we don't mind +that. We're used to it. You'll always have a fling at us on one side and +England on the other; but we're like the strong, good-natured boy who +doesn't resent kicks and cuffs because he knows he can grow and thrive +in spite of them." + +He put his hand on my arm and spoke in the kindly tone that reminded me +of his father. + +"My dear little girl, you can drop it. It won't go down. Suppose we keep +to the sort of thing you can tackle. You see, when you've married me +you'll be an American. Then you'll be out of it." + +I was hurt. I was furious. The expression, too, was getting on my +nerves. I began to wish I was out of it. Since I couldn't be in it, +marriage might prove a Lethe bath, in which I should forget I had +anything to do with it. Sheer desperation made me cry out: + +"Very well, then, Hugh! If we're to be married, can't we be married +quickly? Then I shall have it off my mind." + +There was not only a woeful decline of spirit in his response, but a +full acceptance of the Brokenshire yoke. + +"We can't be married any quicker than dad says. But I'll talk to him." + +He made no objection, however, when, a little later, I received from my +uncle a draft for my entire fortune and announced my intention of +handing the sum over to Mr. Strangways for investment. Hugh probably +looked on the amount as too insignificant to talk about; in addition to +which some Brokenshire instinct for the profitable may have led him to +appreciate a thing so good as to make it folly to say nay to it. The +result was that I heard from Larry Strangways, in letters which added +nothing to my comfort. + +I don't know what I expected him to say; but, whatever it was, he didn't +say it. He wasn't curt; his letters were not short. On the contrary, he +wrote at length, and brought up subjects that had nothing to do with +certificates of stock. But they were all political or international, or +related in one way or another to the ideal of his heart--England and +America! The British Empire and the United States! The brotherhood of +democracies! Why in thunder had the bally world waited so long for the +coalition of dominating influences which alone could keep it straight? +Why dream of the impossible when the practical had not as yet been +tried? Why talk peace, peace, when there was no peace at The Hague, if a +full and controlling sympathy could be effected nearer home--let us say +at Ottawa? He was going to Canada to enlist; he would start in a few +days' time; but he was doing it not merely to fight for the Cause; he +was going to be one man, at least, just a straggling democratic +scout--one of a forlorn hope, if you chose to call it so--to offer his +life to a union of which the human race had the same sort of need as +human beings of wedlock. + +And in all this there was no reference to me. He might not have loved +me; I might not have loved him. I answered the letters in the vein in +which they were written, and once or twice showed my replies to Hugh. + +"Forget it!" was his ordinary comment. "The American eagle is too wise +an old bird to be caught with salt on its tail." + +Perhaps it was because Larry Strangways made no appeal to me that I gave +myself to forwarding his work with a more enthusiastic zeal. I had to do +it quietly, for fear of offending Hugh; but I got my opportunities--that +is, I got my opportunities to talk, though I saw I made no impression. + +I was only a girl--the queer Canadian who had been Ethel Rossiter's +nursery governess and whom the Brokenshire family, for unexplained +reasons, had accepted as Hugh's future wife. What could I know about +matters at which statesmen had always shied? It was preposterous that I +should speak of them; it was presumptuous. Nobody told me that; I saw it +in people's eyes. + +And I should have seen it in their eyes more plainly if they had been +interested. No one was. An entente between the United States and the +British Empire might have been an alliance between Bolivia and +Beluchistan. It wasn't merely fashionable folk who wouldn't think of it; +no one would. I knew plenty of people by this time. I knew townspeople +of Newport, and summer residents, and that intermediate group of retired +admirals and professors who come in between the two. I knew shop people +and I knew servants, all with their stake in the country, their stake in +the world. Not a soul among them cared a hang. + +And then, threatening to put me entirely out of business, we got the +American war refugees and the English visitors. I group them together +because they belonged together. They belonged together for the reason +that there was nothing each one of them didn't know--by hearsay from +some one who knew it by hearsay. The American war refugees had all been +in contact with people in England whom they characterized as well +informed. The English visitors were well informed because they were +English visitors. Some of them told prodigious secrets which they had +indirectly from Downing Street. Others gave the reasons why General +Isleworth had been superseded in his command, and the part Mrs. +Lamingford, that beautiful American, had played in the scandal. From +others we learned that Lady Hull, with her baleful charm, was the +influence really responsible for the shortage of shells. + +War was shown to us by our English visitors not as a mighty, pitiless +contest, but as a series of social, sexual, and political intrigues, in +which women pulled the strings. I know it was talk; but talk it was. For +weeks, for months, we had it with the greater number of our meals. +Wherever there were English guests--women of title they often were, or +eccentric public men--we had an orgy of tales in which the very entrails +of English reputations were torn out. No one was spared---not even the +Highest in the Land. All the American could do was to listen +open-mouthed; and open-mouthed he listened. + +I will say for the English that they have no disloyalty but that of +chatter; but the plain American could not be expected to know that. To +him the chatter was gospel truth. He has none of that facility for +discounting gossip on the great which the Englishman learns with his +mother tongue. The American heard it greedily; he was avid for more. He +retailed it at dinners and teas, and in that Reading-room which is +really a club. Naturally enough! From what our English visitors told us +about themselves, their statesmen, their generals, their admirals were +footlers at the best, and could, moreover, be described by a vigorous +compound Anglo-Saxon word in the Book of Revelations. + +And the English papers were no better. All the important ones, weeklies +as well as dailies, were sent to Mr. Brokenshire, and copies lay about +at Mr. Rossiter's. They sickened me. I stopped reading them. There was +good in them, doubtless; but what I chiefly found was a wild tempest of +abuse of this party or that party, of this leading man or that leading +man, with the effect on the imagination of a ship going down amid the +curses and confusion of officers and passengers alike. It may have +sounded well in England; very likely it did; but in America it was +horrible. I mention it here only because, in this babel of voices, my +own faint pipe on behalf of a league of democracies could no more be +heard than the tinkle of a sacring bell amid the shrieking and bursting +of shells. + +I was often tempted to say no more about it and let the world go to pot. +Then I thought of Larry Strangways, offering his life for an ideal as to +which I was unwilling to speak a word. So I would begin my litany of +Bolivia and Beluchistan over again, crooning it into the ears of people, +both gentle and simple, who, in the matter of response, might never have +heard the names of the two countries I mentioned together. + +A few lines from one of Larry Strangways's letters, written from +Valcartier, prompted me to persevere in this course: + + People are no more interested here than they are on our side of + the border; but it's got to come, for all that. What we need is + a public opinion; and a public opinion can only be created by + writing and talk. Thank the Lord, you and I can talk if we are + not very strong on writing! and talk we must! Bigger streams + have risen from smaller springs. The mustard seed is the least + of all seeds; but it grows to be the greatest of herbs. + +It might have been easier to call forth a responsive spark had we +realized that there was a war. But we hadn't--not in the way that the +fact came to us afterward. In spite of the taking of Namur, Liege, +Maubeuge, the advance on Paris, and the rolling back on the Marne, we +had seen no more than chariots and horses of fire in the clouds. It was +not only distant, it was phantom-like. We read the papers; we heard of +horrors; American war refugees and English visitors alike piled up the +agonies, to which we listened eagerly; we saw the moneyed magnates come +and go in counsel with Mr. Brokenshire; we knitted and sewed and +subscribed to funds; but, so far as vital participation went, Hugh was +right in saying we were out of it. + +And then a shot fell into our midst, smiting us with awe. + +Cissie Boscobel, Hugh, another young man, and I had been playing tennis +one September morning on Mrs. Rossiter's courts. The other young man +having left for Bailey's Beach, the remaining three of us were +sauntering back toward the house when a lad, whom Cissie recognized as +belonging to the Burkes' establishment, came running up with a telegram. +As it was for Cissie she stood still to read it, while Hugh and I +strolled on. Once or twice I glanced back toward her; but she still held +the brief lines up before her as if she couldn't make out their meaning. + +When she rejoined us, as she presently did, I noticed that her color had +died out, though there was otherwise no change in her unless it was in +stillness. The question was as to whether we should go to Bailey's or +not. I didn't want to go and Hugh declared he wouldn't go without me. + +"We'll put it up to Cissie," he said, as we reached the house. "If she +goes we'll all go." + +"I think I won't go," she answered, quietly; adding, without much change +of tone, "Leatherhead's been killed in action." + +So there really was a war! Hugh's deep "Oh!" was in Itself like the +distant rumble of guns. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + +There was nothing to be done for Lady Cecilia because she took her +bereavement with so little fuss. She asked for no sympathy; so far as I +ever saw, she shed no tears. If on that particular spot in the +neighborhood of Ypres a man had had to fall for his country, she was +proud that it had been a Boscobel. She put on a black frock and ordered +her maid to take the jade-green plume out of a black hat; but, except +that she declined invitations, she went about as usual. As the first +person we knew to be touched by the strange new calamity of war, we made +a kind of heroine of her, treating her with an almost romantic +reverence; but she herself never seemed aware of it. It was my first +glimpse of that unflinching British heroism of which I have since seen +much, and it impressed me. + +We began to dream together of being useful; our difficulty was that we +didn't see the way. War had not yet made its definite claims on women +and girls, and knitting till our muscles ached was not a sufficient +outlet for our energies. Had I been in Cissie's place, I should have +gone home at once; but I suspected that, in spite of all her brave words +to me, she couldn't quite kill the hope that kept her lingering on. + +My own ambitions being distasteful to Hugh, I was obliged to repress +them, doing so with the greater regret because some of the courses I +suggested would have done him good. They would have utilized the +physical strength with which he was blessed, and delivered him from that +material well-being to which he returned with the more child-like +rejoicing because of having been without it. + +"Hugh, dear," I said to him once, "couldn't we be married soon and go +over to France or England? Then we should see whether there wasn't +something we could do." + +"Not on your life, little Alix!" was his laughing response. "Since as +Americans we're out of it, out of it we shall stay." + +Over replies like this, of which there were many, I was gnashing my +teeth helplessly when, all at once, I was called on to see myself as +others saw me, so getting a surprise. + +The first note of warning came to me in a few words from Ethel Rossiter. +I was scribbling her notes one morning as she lay in bed, when it +occurred to me to say: + +"If I'm going to be married, I suppose I ought to be doing something +about clothes." + +She murmured, listlessly: + +"Oh, I wouldn't be in a hurry about that, if I were you." + +I went on writing. + +"I haven't been in a hurry, have I? But I shall certainly want some +things I haven't got now." + +"Then you can get them after you're married. When are you to be married, +anyhow?" + +As the question was much on my mind, I looked up from my task and said: + +"Well--when?" + +"Don't you know?" + +"No. Do you?" + +She shook her head. + +"I didn't know but what father had said something about it." + +"He hasn't--not a word." I resumed my scribbling. "It's a queer thing +for him to have to settle, don't you think? One might have supposed it +would have been left to me." + +"Oh, you don't know father!" It was as if throwing off something of no +importance that she added, "Of course, he can see that you're not in +love with Hugh." + +Amazed at this reading of my heart, I bent my head to hide my confusion. + +"I don't know why you should say that," I stammered at last, "when you +can't help seeing I'm quite true to him." + +She shrugged her beautiful shoulders, of which one was bare. + +"Oh, true! What's the good of that?" She went on, casually: "By the by, +do call up Daisy Burke and tell her I sha'n't go to that luncheon of +theirs. They're going to have old lady Billing, who's coming to stay at +father's; and you don't catch me with that lot except when I can't help +it." She reverted to the topic of a minute before. "I don't blame you, +of course. I suppose, if I were in your place, it's what I should do +myself. It's what I thought you'd try for--you remember, don't you?--as +long ago as when we were in Halifax. But naturally enough other people +don't--" I failed to learn, however, what other people didn't, because +of a second reversion in theme: "Do make up something civil to say to +Daisy, and tell her I won't come." + +We dropped the subject, chiefly because I was afraid to go on with it; +but when I met old Mrs. Billing I received a similar shock. Having gone +to Mr. Brokenshire's to pay her my respects, I was told she was on the +terrace. As a matter of fact, she was making her way toward the hall, +and awkwardly carried a book, a sunshade, and the stump of a cigarette. +Dutifully I went forward in the hope of offering my services. + +"Get out of my sight!" was her response to my greetings. "I can't bear +to look at you." + +Brushing past me without further words, she entered the house. + +"What did she mean?" I asked of Cissie Boscobel, to whom I heard that +Mrs. Billing had given her own account of the incident. + +Lady Cecilia was embarrassed. + +"Oh, nothing! She's just so very odd." + +But I insisted: + +"She must have meant something. Had it anything to do with Hugh?" + +Reluctantly Lady Cissie let it out. Mrs. Billing had got the idea that I +was marrying Hugh for his money; and, though in the past she had not +disapproved of this line of action, she had come to think it no road to +happiness. Having taken the trouble to give me more than one hint that I +should many the man I was in love with she was now disappointed in my +character. + +"You know how much truth there is in all that, don't you?" I said, +evasively. + +Lady Cissie did her best to support me, though between her words and her +inflection there was a curious lack of correspondence. + +"Oh yes--certainly!" + +I got the reaction of her thought, however, some minutes later, when she +said, apropos of nothing in our conversation: + +"Since Janet can't be married this month, I needn't go home for a long +time." + +But knowing that this suggestion was in the air, I was the better able +to interpret Mildred's oracular utterance the next time I sat at the +foot of the couch, in the darkened room. + +"One can't be true to another," she said, in reply to some feeler of my +own, "unless one is true to oneself, and one can't be true to oneself +unless one follows the highest of one's instincts." + +I said, inwardly: "Ah! Now I know the reason for her distrust of me." +Aloud I made it: + +"But that throws us back on the question as to what one's highest +instincts are." + +There was the pause that preceded all her expressions of opinion. + +"On the principle that it is more blessed to give than to receive, I +suppose our highest promptings are those which urge us to give most of +ourselves." + +"And when one gives all of oneself that one can dispose of?" + +"One has then to consider the importance or the unimportance of what one +has to withhold." + +Of all the things that had been said to me this was the most disturbing. +It had seemed to me hitherto that the essence of my duty lay in marrying +Hugh. If I married him, I argued, I should have done my best to make up +to him for all he had undergone for my sake. I saw myself as owing him a +debt. The refusal to pay it would have implied a kind of moral +bankruptcy. Considering myself solvent, and also considering myself +honest, I felt I had no choice. Since I could pay, I must pay. The +reasoning was the more forcible because I liked Hugh and was grateful +to him. I could be tolerably happy with him, and would make him a good +wife. + +To make him a good wife I had choked back everything I had ever felt for +Larry Strangways; I had submitted to all the Brokenshire repressions; I +had made myself humble and small before Hugh and his father, and +accepted the status of a Libby Jaynes. My heart cried out like any other +woman's heart--it cried out for my country in the hour of its stress; it +cried out for my home in what I tried to make the hour of my happiness; +when it caught me unawares it cried out for the man I loved. But all +this I mastered as our Canadian men were mastering their longings and +regrets on saying their good-bys. What was to be done was to be done, +and done willingly. Willingly I meant to marry Hugh, not because he was +the man I would have chosen before all others, but because, when no one +else in the world was giving me a thought, he had had the astonishing +goodness to choose me. And now-- + +With Mrs. Brokenshire the situation was different. She believed I was in +love with Hugh and that the others were doing me a wrong. Moreover, she +informed me one day that I was making my way in Newport. People who +noticed me once noticed me again. The men beside whom I sat at the +occasional lunches and dinners I attended often spoke of me to the +hostess on going away, and there could be no better sign than that. They +said that, though I "wasn't long on looks," I had ideas and knew how to +express them. She ventured to hope that this kindly opinion might, in +the end, soften Mr. Brokenshire. + +"Do you mean that he isn't softened as it is?" + +She answered, indirectly: + +"He's not accustomed to be forced--and he feels I've forced him." + +It was her first reference to what she had done for Hugh and me. In its +way it gave me permission to say: + +"But isn't it a question of the _quid pro quo_? If you granted him +something for something he granted you in return--" + +But the expression on her face forbade my going on. I have never seen +such a parting to human lips, or so haunting, so lost a look in human +eyes. It told me everything. It was a confession of all the things she +never could have said. "Better is it," says the Book of Ecclesiastes, +"that thou shouldest not vow, than that thou shouldest vow and not pay." +She had vowed and not paid. She had got her price and hadn't fulfilled +her bargain. She couldn't; she never would. It was beyond her. The big +moneyed man who at that minute was helping to finance a good part of +Europe, who was a power not only in a city or a country, but the world, +had been tricked by a woman; and I in my poor little person was the +symbol of his discomfiture. + +No wonder he found it hard to forgive me! No wonder that whenever I came +where he was he treated me to some kindly hint or correction which was +no sufficient veil for his scorn! As I had never to my knowledge been +hated by any one, it was terrible to feel myself an object of abhorrence +to a man of such high standing in the world. Our eyes couldn't meet +without my seeing that his passions were seething to the boiling-point. +If he could have struck me dead with a look I think he would have done +it. And I didn't hate him; I was too sorry for him. I could have liked +him if he had let me. + +I had, consequently, much to think about. I thought and I prayed. It was +not a minute at which to do anything hurriedly. To a spirit so hot as +mine it would have been a relief to lash out at them all; but, as I had +checked myself hitherto, I checked myself again. I reasoned that if I +kept close to right, right would take care of me. Not being a +theologian, I felt free to make some closeness of identity between right +and God. I might have defined right as God in action, or God as right in +conjunction with omnipotence, intelligence, and love; but I had no need +for exactness of terms. In keeping near to right I knew I must be near +to God: and near to God I could let myself go so far that no power on +earth would seem strong enough to save me--and yet I should be saved. + +I went on then with a kind of fearlessness. If I was to marry Hugh I was +convinced that I should be supported; if not, I was equally convinced +that something would hold me back. + +"If anything should happen," I said to Cissie Boscobel one day, "I want +you to look after Hugh." + +The dawn seemed to break over her, though she only said, tremulously: + +"Happen--how?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps nothing will. But if it does--" + +She slipped away, doubtless so as not to hear more. + +And then one evening, when I was not thinking especially about it, the +Cloud came down on the Mountain; the voice spoke out of it, and my +course was made plain. + +But before that night I also had received a cablegram. It was from my +sister Louise, to say that the _King Arthur_, her husband's ship, had +been blown up in the North Sea, and that he was among the lost. + +So the call was coming to me more sharply than I had yet heard it. With +Lady Cecilia's example in mind, I said little to those about me beyond +mentioning the fact. I suppose they showed me as much sympathy as the +sweeping away of a mere brother-in-law demanded. They certainly said +they were sorry, and hinted that that was what nations let themselves in +for when they were so rash as to go to war. + +"Think we'd ever expose our fellows like that?" was Hugh's comment. "Not +on your life!" + +But they didn't make a heroine of me as they did with Lady Cissie; not +that I cared about that. I only hoped that the fact that my +brother-in-law's name was in all the American accounts of the incident +would show them that I belonged to some one, and that some one belonged +to me. If it did I never perceived it. Perhaps the loss of a mere +captain in the navy was a less gallant occurrence than the death in +action of a Lord Leatherhead; perhaps we were already getting used to +the toll of war; but, whatever the reason, Lady Cissie was still, to all +appearances, the only sufferer. Within a day or two a black dress was my +sole reminder that the _King Arthur_ had gone down; and, even to Hugh, I +made no further reference to the catastrophe. + +And then came the evening when, as Larry Strangways said on my telling +him about it, "the fat was all in the fire." + +It was the occasion of what had become the annual dinner at Mr. +Brokenshire's in honor of Mrs. Billing--a splendid function. Nothing +short of a splendid function would have satisfied the old lady, who had +the gift of making even the great afraid of her. The event was the more +magnificent for the reason that, in addition to the mother of the +favorite, a number of brother princes of finance, in Newport for +conference with our host, were included among the guests. Of these one +was staying in the house, one with the Jack Brokenshires, and two at a +hotel. I was seated between the two who were at the hotel because they +were socially unimportant. Even Mr. Brokenshire had sometimes to extend +his domestic hospitality to business friends for the sake of business, +when perhaps he should have preferred to show his attentions in clubs. + +The chief scene, if I may so call it, was played to the family alone in +Mildred's sitting-room, after the guests had gone; but there was a +curtain-raiser at the dinner-table before the assembled company. I give +bits of the conversation, not because they were important, but because +of what they led up to. + +We were twenty-four, seated on great Italian chairs, which gave each of +us the feeling of being a sovereign on a throne. It took all the men of +the establishment, as well as those gathered in from the Jack +Brokenshires' and Mrs. Rossiter's, to wait on us, a detail by which in +the end I profited. The gold service had been sent down from the vaults +in New York, so that the serving-plates were gold, as well as the plates +for some of the other courses. Gold vases and bowls held the roses that +adorned the table, and gold spoons and forks were under our hands. It +was the first time I had ever been able to notice with my own eyes how +nearly the rich American can rival the state of kings and emperors. + +It goes without saying that all the women had put on their best, and +that the jewels were as precious metals in the days of Solomon; they +were "nothing accounted of." Diamonds flashed, rubies broke out in fire, +and emeralds said unspeakable things all up and down the table; the rows +and ropes and circlets of pearls made one think of the gates of +Paradise. I was the only one not so bedecked, getting that contrast of +simplicity which is the compensation of the poor. The ring Hugh had +given me, a sapphire set in diamonds, was my only ornament; and yet the +neat austerity of my black evening frock rendered me conspicuous. + +It also goes without saying that I had no right to be conspicuous, being +the person of least consequence at the board. Mr. Brokenshire not only +felt that himself, but he liked me to feel it; and he not only liked me +to feel it, but he liked others to see that his great, broad spirit +admitted me among his family and friends from noble promptings of +tolerance. I was expected to play up to this generosity and to present +the foil of humility to the glory of the other guests and the beauty of +the table decorations. + +In general I did this, and had every intention of doing it again. +Nothing but what perhaps were the solecisms of my immediate neighbors +caused my efforts to miscarry. I had been informed by Mrs. Brokenshire +beforehand that they were socially dull, that one of them was "awful," +and that my powers would be taxed to keep them in conversation. My +mettle being up, I therefore did my best. + +The one who was awful proved to be a Mr. Samuel Russky, whose claim to +be present sprang from the fact that he was a member of a house that had +the power to lend a great deal of money. He was a big man, of a mingled +Slavic and Oriental cast of countenance, and had nothing more awful +about him than a tendency to overemphasis. On my right I had Mr. John G. +Thorne, whose face at a glance was as guileless as his name till +contemplation revealed to you depth beyond depth of that peculiar +astuteness of which only the American is master. I am sure that when we +sat down to table neither of these gentlemen had any intention of taking +a hand in my concerns, and are probably ignorant to this day of ever +having done so; but the fact remains. + +It begins with my desire to oblige Mrs. Brokenshire by trying to make +the dinner a success. Having to lift the heaviest corner, so to speak, I +gave myself to the task first with one of my neighbors and then with the +other. They responded so well that as early as when the terrapin was +reached I was doing it with both. As there was much animation about the +table, there was nothing at that time to call attention to our talk. + +Naturally, it was about the war. From the war we passed to the attitude +of the United States toward the struggle; and from that what could I do +but glide to the topics as to which I felt myself a mouthpiece for Larry +Strangways? It was a chance. Here were two men obviously of some +influence in the country, and neither of them of very strong +convictions, so far as I could judge, on any subject but that of +floating foreign bonds. As the dust from a butterfly's wing might turn +the scale with one or both of them, I endeavored to throw at least that +much weight on the side of a British and American entente. + +At something I said, Mr. Russky, with the slightest hint of a Yiddish +pronunciation, complained that I spoke as if all Americans were +"Anglo-Zaxons"; whereas it was well known that the "Anglo-Zaxon" element +among them was but a percentage, which was destined to grow less. + +"I'm not putting it on that ground," I argued, with some zeal, taking up +a point as to which one of Larry Strangways's letters had enlightened +me. "I see well enough that the American ideal isn't one of nationality, +but of principle. When the federation of the States was completed it was +on the basis not of a common Anglo-Saxon origin, but on that of the +essential unity of mankind. Mere nationality was left out of the +question. All nations were welcomed, with the idea of welding them into +one." + +"And England," Mr. Russky declared, somewhat more loudly than was +necessary for my hearing him, "is still bound up in her Anglo-Zaxondon." + +"Not a bit of it!" I returned. "Her spirit is exactly the same as that +of this country. Except this country, where is there any other of which +the gates and ports and homes and factories have been open to all +nations as hers have been? They've landed on her shores in thousands and +thousands, without passports and without restraint, welcomed and +protected even when they've been taking the bread out of the born +Englishman's mouth. Look at the number of foreigners they've been +obliged to round up since the war began--for the simple reason that +they'd become so many as to be a peril. It's the same not only in the +British Islands, but in every part of the British Empire. Always the +same reception for all, with liberty for all. My own country, in +proportion to its population, is as full of citizens of foreign birth as +this is. They've been fathered and mothered from the minute they landed +at Halifax. Poles and Ruthenians and Slovaks and Icelanders have been +given the same advantages as ourselves. I'm not boasting of this, Mr. +Russky. I'm only saying that, though we've never defined the principle +in a constitution, our instinct toward mankind is the same as yours." + +It was here Mr. Thorne broke in, saying that sympathy in the United +States was all for France. + +"I can understand that," I said. "You often find in a family that the +sympathy of each of the members is for some one outside. But that +doesn't keep them from being a family, or from acting in important +moments with a family's solidarity." + +"And, personally," Mr. Thorne went on, "I don't care for England." + +I laughed politely in his face. + +"And do you, a business man, say that? I thought business was carried on +independently of personal regard. You might conceivably not like Mr. +Warren or Mr. Casemente"--I named the two other banker guests--"or even +Mr. Brokenshire; but you do business with them as if you loved them, and +quite successfully, too. In the same way the Briton and the American +might put personal fancies out of the question and co-operate for great +ends." + +"Ah, but, young lady," Mr. Russky exclaimed, so noisily as to draw +attention, "you forget that we're far from the scene of European +disputes, and that our wisest course is to keep out of them!" + +I fell back again on what I had learned from Larry Strangways. + +"But you're not far from the past of mankind. You inherit that as much +as any European; and it isn't an inheritance that can be limited +geographically." I still quoted one of Larry Strangways's letters, +knowing it by heart. "Every Russian and German and Jew and Italian and +Scotchman who lands in New York brings a portion of it with him and +binds the responsibility of the New World more closely to the sins of +the Old. Oceans and continents will not separate us from sins. As we can +never run away from our past, Americans must help to expiate what they +and their ancestors have done in the countries from which they came. +This isn't going to be a local war or a twentieth-century war. It's the +struggle of all those who have had to bear the burdens of the world +against those who have made them bear them." + +"If that was the case," Mr. Russky said, doubtfully, "Americans would be +all on one side." + +"They will be all on one side--when they see it. The question is, Will +they see it soon enough?" + +Being so interested I didn't notice that our immediate neighbors were +listening, nor did I observe, what Cissie Boscobel told me afterward, +that Hugh was dividing disquieting looks between me and his father. I +did try to divert Mr. Thorne to giving his attention to Mrs. Burke, who +was his neighbor on the right, but I couldn't make him take the hint. It +was, in fact, he who said: + +"We've too many old grudges against England to keep step with her now." + +I smiled engagingly. + +"But you've no old grudges against the British Empire, have you?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"You've no old grudges against Canada, or Australia, or the West Indies, +or New Zealand, or the Cape?" + +"N-no." + +"Nor even against Scotland or Wales or Ireland?" + +"N-no." + +"You recognize in all those countries a spirit more or less akin to your +own, and one with which you can sympathize?" + +"Y-yes." + +"Then isn't that my point? You speak of England, and you see the +southern end of an island between the North Sea and the Atlantic; but +that's all you see. You forget Scotland and Ireland and Canada and +Australia and South Africa. You think I'm talking of a country three +thousand miles away, whereas it comes right up to your doors. It's on +the borders of Maine and Michigan and Minnesota, and all along your +line. That isn't Canada alone; it's the British Empire. It's the country +with which you Americans have more to do than with any other in the +world. It's the one you have to think of first. You may like some other +better, but you can't get away from having it as your most pressing +consideration the minute you pass your own frontiers. That," I declared, +with a little laugh, "is what makes my entente important." + +"Important for England or for America?" Mr. Russky, as a citizen of the +country he thought had most to give, was on his guard. + +"Important for the world!" I said, emphatically. "England and +America--the British Empire and the United States--are both secondary in +what I'm trying to say. I speak of them only as the two that can most +easily line up together. When they've done that the rest will follow +their lead. It's not to be an offensive and defensive alliance, or +directed against any other power. It would be a starting-point, the +beginning of world peace. It would also be an instance of what could be +accomplished in the long run among all the nations of the world by +mutual tolerance and common sense." + +As I made a little mock oratorical flourish there was a laugh from our +part of the table. Some one sitting opposite called out, "Good!" I +distinctly heard Mrs. Billing's cackle of a "Brava!" I ought to say, +too, that, afraid of even the appearance of "holding forth," I had kept +my tone lowered, addressing myself to my left-hand companion. If others +stopped talking and listened it was because of the compulsion of the +theme. It was a burning theme. It was burning in hearts and minds that +had never given it a conscious thought; and, now that for a minute it +was out in the open, it claimed them. True, it was an occasion meant to +be kept free from the serious; but even in Newport we were beginning to +understand that occasions kept free from the serious were over--perhaps +for the rest of our time. + +After that the conversation in our neighborhood became general. With the +exception of Hugh, who was not far away, every one joined in, aptly or +inaptly, as the case might be, with pros and cons and speculations and +anecdotes and flashes of wit, and a far deeper interest than I should +have predicted. As Mrs. Brokenshire whispered after we regained the +drawing-room, it had made the dinner go; and a number of women whom I +hadn't known before came up and talked to me. + +But all that was only the curtain-raiser. It was not till the family +were assembled in Mildred's room up-stairs that the real play began. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + + +Mildred's big, heavily furnished room was as softly lighted as usual. As +usual, she herself, in white, with a rug across her feet, lay on her +couch, withdrawn from the rest. She never liked to have any one near +her, unless it was Hugh; she never entered into general talk. When +others were present she remained silent, as she did on this evening. +Whatever passed through her mind she gave out to individuals when she +was alone with them. + +The rest of the party were scattered about, standing or sitting. There +were Jack and Pauline, Jim and Ethel Rossiter, Mrs. Billing, Mrs. +Brokenshire, Cissie Boscobel, who was now staying with the Brokenshires, +and Hugh. The two banker guests had gone back to the smoking-room. As I +entered, Mr. Brokenshire was standing in his customary position of +command, a little like a pasha in his seraglio, his back to the empty +fireplace. With his handsome head and stately form, he would have been a +truly imposing figure had it not been for his increased stoutness and +the occasional working of his face. + +I had come up-stairs with some elation. The evening might have been +called mine. Most of the men, on rejoining us in the drawing-room, had +sought a word with me, and those who didn't know me inquired who I was. +I could hardly help the hope that Mr. Brokenshire might see I was worth +my salt, and that on becoming a member of his family I should bring my +contribution. + +But on the way up-stairs Hugh gave me a hint that in that I might be +mistaken. + +"Well, little Alix, you certainly gave poor old dad a shock this time." + +"A shock?" I asked, in not unnatural astonishment. + +"Your fireworks." + +"Fireworks! What on earth do you mean?" + +"It's always a shock when fireworks go off too close to you; and +especially when it's in church." + +As we had reached the door of Mildred's room, I searched my conduct +during dinner to see in what I had offended. + +It is possible my entry might have passed unnoticed if Mrs. Brokenshire, +with the kindest intentions, had not come forward to the threshold and +taken me by the hand. As if making a presentation, she led me toward the +august figure before the fireplace. + +"Our little girl," she said, in the hope of doing me a good turn, +"distinguished herself to-night, didn't she?" + +He must have been stung to sudden madness by the sight of the two of us +together. In general he controlled himself in public. He was often +cruel, but with a quiet subtle cruelty to which even the victims often +didn't know how to take exception. But to-night the long-gathering fury +of passion was incapable of further restraint. Behind it there was all +the explosive force of a lifetime of pride, complacence, and self-love. +The exquisite creature--a vision of soft rose, with six strings of +pearls--who was parading her bargain, as you might say, without having +paid for it, excited him to the point of frenzy. I saw later, what I +didn't understand at the time, that he was striking at her through me. +He was willing enough to strike at me, since I was the nobody who had +forced herself into his family; but she was his first aim. + +Having looked at me disdainfully, he disdainfully looked away. + +"She certainly gave us an exhibition!" he said, with his incisive, +whip-lash quietude. + +Mrs. Brokenshire dropped my hand. + +"Oh, Howard!" + +I think she backed away toward the nearest chair. I was vaguely +conscious of curious eyes in the dimness about me as I stood alone +before my critic. + +"I'm sorry if I've done anything wrong, Mr. Brokenshire," I said, +meekly. "I didn't mean to." + +He looked over my head, speaking casually, as one who takes no interest +in the subject. + +"All the great stupidities have been committed by people who didn't mean +to--but there they are!" + +I continued to be meek. + +"I didn't know I had been stupid." + +"The stupid never do." + +"And I don't think I have been," I added, with rising spirit. + +Though there was consternation in the room behind me, Mr. Brokenshire +merely said: + +"Unfortunately, you must let others judge of that." + +"But how?" I insisted. "If I have been, wouldn't it be a kindness on +your part to tell me in what way?" + +He pretended not merely indifference, but reluctance. + +"Isn't that obvious?" + +"Not to me--and I don't think to any one else." + +"What do you call it when one--you compel me to speak frankly--what do +you call it when one exposes one's ignorance of--of fundamental things +before a roomful of people who've never set eyes on one before?" + +Since no one, not even Hugh, was brave enough to stand up for me, I had +to do it for myself. + +"But I didn't know I had." + +"Probably not. It's what I warned you of, if you'll take the trouble to +remember. I said--or it amounted to that--that until you'd learned the +ways of the people who are generally recognized as _comme il faut_, +you'd be wise in keeping yourself--unobtrusive." + +"And may I ask whether one becomes obtrusive merely in talking of public +affairs?" + +"You'll pardon me for giving you a lesson before others; but, since you +invite it--" + +"Quite so, Mr. Brokenshire, I do invite it." + +"Then I can only say that in what we call good society we become +obtrusive in talking of things we know nothing about." + +"But surely one can set an idea going, even if one hasn't sounded all +its depths. And as for the relations between this country and the +British Empire--" + +"Well-bred women leave such subjects to statesmen." + +"Yes; we've done so. We've left them to statesmen and"--I couldn't +resist the temptation to say it--"and we've left them to financiers; but +we can't look at Europe and be proud of the result. We women, well bred +or otherwise, couldn't make things worse even if we were to take a hand; +and we might make them better." + +He was not moved from his air of slightly bored indifference. + +"Then you must wait for women with some knowledge of the subject." + +"But, Mr. Brokenshire, I have some knowledge of the subject! Though I'm +neither English nor American, I'm both. I've only to shift from one side +of my mind to the other to be either. Surely, when it comes to the +question of a link between the two countries I love I'm qualified to put +in a plea for it." + +I think his nerves were set further on edge because I dared to argue the +point, though he would probably have been furious if I had not. His tone +was still that of a man deigning no more than to fling out an occasional +stinging remark. + +"As a future member of my family, you're not qualified to make yourself +ridiculous before my friends. To take you humorously was the kindest +thing they could do." + +I saw an opportunity. + +"Then wouldn't it be equally kind, sir, if you were to follow their +example?" + +Mrs. Billing's hen-like crow came out of the obscurity: + +"She's got you there!" + +The sound incited him. He became not more irritable, but cruder. + +"Unhappily, that's beyond my power. I have to blush for my son Hugh." + +Hugh spoke out of the darkness, his voice trembling with the fear of his +own hardihood in once more braving Jove. + +"Oh no, dad! You must take that back." + +The father wheeled round in the new direction. He was losing command of +the ironic courtesy he secured by his air of indifference, and growing +coarser. + +"My poor boy! I can't take it back. You're like myself--in that you can +only be fooled when you put your trust in a woman." + +It was Mrs. Brokenshire's turn: + +"Howard--please!" + +In the cry there was the confession of the woman who has vowed and not +paid, and yet begs to be spared the blame. + +Jack Brokenshire sprang to his feet and hurried forward, laying his hand +on his father's arm. + +"Say, dad--" + +But Mr. Brokenshire shook off the hand, refusing to be placated. He +looked at his wife, who had risen, confusedly, from her chair and was +backing away from him to the other side of the room. + +"I said poor Hugh was being fooled by a woman; and he is. He's marrying +some one who doesn't care a hang about him and who's in love with +another man. He may not be the first in the family to do that, but I +merely make the statement that he's doing it." + +Hugh leaped forward. + +"She's not in love with another man!" + +"Ask her." + +He clutched me by the wrist. + +"You're not, are you?" he pleaded. "Tell father you're not." + +I was so sorry for Hugh that I hardly thought of myself. I was benumbed. +The suddenness of the attack had been like a blow from behind that stuns +you without taking away your consciousness. In any case Mr. Brokenshire +gave me no time, for he laughed gratingly. + +"She can't do that, my boy, because she is. Everybody knows it. I know +it--and Ethel and Mildred and Cissie. They're all here and they can +contradict me if I'm saying what isn't so." + +"But she may not know it herself," Mrs. Billing croaked. "A girl is +often the last to make that discovery." + +"Ask her." + +Hugh obeyed, still clutching my wrist. + +"I'm asking you, little Alix. You're not, are you?" + +I could say nothing. Apart from the fact that I didn't knew what to say, +I was dumbfounded by the way in which it had all come upon me. The only +words that occurred to me were: + +"I think Mr. Brokenshire is ill." + +Oddly enough. I was convinced of that. It was the one assuaging fact. He +might hate me, but he wouldn't have made me the object of this mad-bull +rush if he had been in his right mind. He was not in his right mind; he +was merely a blood-blinded animal as he went on: + +"Ask her again, Hugh. You're the only one she's been able to keep in the +dark; but then"--his eyes followed his wife, who was still slowly +retreating--"but then that's nothing new. She'll let you believe +anything--till she gets you. That's always the game with women of the +sort. But once you're fast in her clutches--then, my boy, look out!" + +I heard Pauline whisper, "Jack, for Heaven's sake, do something!" + +Once more Jack's hand was laid on his parent's arm, with his foolish +"Say, dad--" + +Once more the restraining hand was shaken off. The cutting tones were +addressed to Hugh: + +"You see what a hurry she's been in to be married, don't you? How many +times has she asked you to do it up quick? She's been afraid that you'd +slip through her fingers." He turned toward me. "Don't be alarmed, my +dear. We shall keep our word. You've worked hard to capture the +position, and I shall not deny that you've been clever in your attacks. +You deserve what you've won, and you shall have it. But all in good +time. Don't rush. The armies in Europe are showing us that you must +intrench yourself where you are if you want, in the end, to push +forward. You push a little too hard." + +Poor Hugh had gone white. He was twisting my wrist as if he would wring +it off, though I felt no pain till afterward. + +"Tell me!" he whispered. "Tell me! You're--you're not marrying me +for--for my money, are you?" + +I could have laughed hysterically. + +"Hugh, don't be an idiot!" came, scornfully, from Ethel Rossiter. + +I could see her get up, cross the room, and sit down on the edge of +Mildred's couch, where the two engaged in a whispered conversation. Jim +Rossiter, too, got up and tiptoed his sleek, slim person out of the +room. Cissie Boscobel followed him. They talked in low tones at the head +of the stairs outside. I found voice at last: + +"No, Hugh; I never thought of marrying you for that reason. I was doing +it only because it seemed to me right." + +Mr. Brokenshire emitted a sound, meant to be a laugh: + +"Right! Oh, my God!" + +Mrs. Brokenshire was now no more than a pale-rose shadow on the farther +side of the room, but she came to my aid: + +"She was, Howard. Please believe her. She was, really!" + +"Thanks, darling, for the corroboration! It comes well from you. Where +there's a question of right you're an authority." + +Mrs. Billing's hoarse, prolonged "Ha-a!" implied every shade of +comprehension. I saw the pale-rose shadow sink down on a sofa, all in a +little heap, like something shot with smokeless powder. + +Hugh was twisting my wrist again and whispering: + +"Alix, tell me. Speak! What are you marrying me for? What about the +other fellow? Is it Strangways? Speak!" + +"I've given you the only answer I can, Hugh. If you can't believe in my +doing right--" + +"What were you in such a hurry for? Was that the reason--what dad +says--that you were afraid you wouldn't--hook me?" + +I looked him hard in the eye. Though we were speaking in the lowest +possible tones, there was a sudden stillness in the room, as though +every one was hanging on my answer. + +"Have I ever given you cause to suspect me of that?" I asked, after +thinking of what I ought to say. + +Three words oozed themselves out like three drops of his own blood. They +were the distillation of two years' uncertainty: + +"Well--sometimes--yes." + +Either he dropped my wrist or I released myself. I only remember that I +was twisting the sapphire-and-diamond ring on my finger. + +"What made you think so?" I asked, dully. + +"A hundred things--everything!" He gave a great gasp. "Oh, little Alix!" + +Turning away suddenly, he leaned his head against the mantelpiece, while +his shoulders heaved. + +It came to me that this was the moment to make an end of it all; but I +saw Mrs. Rossiter get up from her conference with Mildred and come +forward. She did it leisurely, pulling up one shoulder of her decollete +gown as she advanced. + +"Hugh, don't be a baby!" she said, in passing. "Father, you ought to be +ashamed of yourself!" + +If the heavens had fallen my amazement might have been less. She went on +in a purely colloquial tone, extricating the lace of her corsage from a +spray of diamond flowers as she spoke: + +"I'll tell you why she was marrying Hugh. It was for two or three +reasons, every one of them to her credit. Any one who knows her and +doesn't see that must be an idiot. She was marrying him, first, because +he was kind to her. None of the rest of us was, unless it was Mrs. +Brokenshire; and she was afraid to show it for fear you'd jump on her, +father. The rest of us have treated Alix Adare like brutes. I know I +have." + +"Oh no!" I protested, though I could scarcely make myself audible. + +"But Hugh was nice to her. He was nice to her from the start. And she +couldn't forget it. No nice girl would. When he asked her to marry him +she felt she had to. And then, when he put up his great big bluff of +earning a living--" + +"It wasn't a bluff," Hugh contradicted, his face still buried in his +hands. + +"Well, perhaps it wasn't," she admitted, imperturbably. "If you, father, +hadn't driven him to it with your heroics--" + +"If you call it heroics that I should express my will--" + +"Oh your will! You seem to think that no one's got a will but you. Here +we are, all grown up, two of us married, and you still try to keep us as +if we were five years old. We're sick of it, and it's time some of us +spoke. Jack's afraid to, and Mildred's too good; so it's up to me to say +what I think." + +Mr. Brokenshire's first shock having passed, he got back something of +his lordly manner, into which he threw an infusion of the misunderstood. + +"And you've said it sufficiently. When my children turn against me--" + +"Nonsense, father! Your children don't do anything of the sort. We're +perfect sheep. You drive us wherever you like. But, however much we can +stand ourselves, we can't help kicking when you attack some one who +doesn't quite belong to us and who's a great deal better than we are." + +Mrs. Billing crowed again: + +"Brava, Ethel! Never supposed you had the pluck." + +Ethel turned her attention to the other side of her corsage. + +"Oh, it isn't a question of pluck; it's one of exasperation. Injustice +after a while gets on one's nerves. I've had a better chance of knowing +Alix Adare than any one; and you can take it from me that, when it comes +to a question of breeding, she's the genuine pearl and we're only +imitations--all except Mildred." + +Both of Mr. Brokenshire's handsome hands went up together. He took a +step forward as if to save Mrs. Rossiter from a danger. + +"My daughter!" + +The pale-rose heap on the other side of the room raised its dainty head. + +"It's true, Howard; it's true! Please believe it!" + +Ethel went on in her easy way: + +"If Alix Adare has made any mistake it's been in ignoring her own +wishes--I may say her own heart--in order to be true to us. The Lord +knows she can't have respected us much, or failed to see that, judged by +her standards, we're as common as grass when you compare it to orchids. +But because she is an orchid she couldn't do anything but want to give +us back better than she ever got from us; and so--" + +"Oh no; it wasn't that!" I tried to interpose. + +"It's no dishonor to her not to be in love with Hugh," she pursued, +evenly. "She may have thought she was once; but what girl hasn't thought +she was in love a dozen times? A fine day in April will make any one +think it's summer already; but when June comes they know the difference. +It was April when Hugh asked her; and now it's June. I'll confess for +her. She is in love with--" + +"Please!" I broke in. + +She gave me another surprise. + +"Do run and get me my fan. It's over by Mildred. There's a love!" + +I had to do her bidding. The picture of the room stamped itself on my +brain, though I didn't think of it at the time. It seemed rather empty. +Jack had retired to one window, where he was smoking a cigarette; +Pauline was at another, looking out at the moonlight on the water. Mrs. +Billing sat enthroned in the middle, taking a subordinate place for +once. Mrs. Brokenshire was on the sofa by the wall. The murmur of +Ethel's voice, but no words, reached me as I stooped beside Mildred's +couch to pick up the fan. + +The invalid took my hand. Her voice had the deep, low murmur of the sea. + +"You must forgive my father." + +"I do," I was able to say. "I--I like him in spite of everything--" + +"And as for my brother, you'll remember what we agreed upon once--that +where we can't give all, our first consideration must be the value of +what we withhold." + +I thanked her and went back with the fan. As I passed Mrs. Billing she +snapped at me, with the enigmatic words: + +"You're a puss!" + +When I drew near to the group by the fireplace, Mrs. Rossiter was saying +to Hugh: + +"And as for her marrying you for your money--well, you're crazy! I +suppose she likes money as well as anybody else; but she would have +married you to be loyal. She would have married you two months ago if +father had been willing; and if you'd been willing you could now have +been in England or France together, trying to do some good. If a woman +marries one man when she's in love with another the right or the wrong +depends on her motives. Who knows but what I may have done it myself? I +don't say I haven't. And so--" + +But I had taken off the ring on my way across the room. Having returned +the fan to Ethel, I went up to Hugh, who looked round at me over his +shoulder. + +"Hugh, darling," I said, very softly, "I feel that I ought to give you +back this." + +He put out his hand mechanically, not thinking of what I was about to +offer. On seeing it he drew back his hand quickly, and the ring dropped +on the floor. I can hear it still, rolling with a little rattle among +the fire-irons. + +In making my curtsy to Mr. Brokenshire I raised my eyes to his face. It +seemed to me curiously stricken. After all her years of submission Mrs. +Rossiter's rebellion must have made him feel like an autocrat dethroned. +I repeated my curtsy to Mrs. Billing, who merely stared at me through +her lorgnette--to Jack and Pauline, who took no notice, who perhaps +didn't see me--to Mrs. Brokenshire, who was again a little rose-colored +heap--and to Mildred, who raised her long, white hand. + +In the hall outside Cissie Boscobel rose and came toward me. + +"You must look after Hugh," I said to her, breathlessly, as I sped on my +way. + +She did. As I hurried down the stairs I heard her saying: + +"No, Hugh, no! She wants to go alone." + + + + + POSTSCRIPT + + +I am writing in the dawn of a May morning in 1917. + +Before me lies a sickle of white beach some four or five miles in curve. +Beyond that is the Atlantic, a mirror of leaden gray. Woods and fields +bank themselves inland; here a dewy pasture, there a stretch of plowed +earth recently sown and harrowed; elsewhere a grove of fir or maple or a +hazel copse. From a little wooden house on the other side of the +crescent of white sand a pillar of pale smoke is going straight up into +the windless air. In the woods round me the birds, which have only just +arrived from Florida, from the West Indies, from Brazil, are chirruping +sleepily. They will doze again presently, to awake with the sunrise into +the chorus of full song. Halifax lies some ten or twelve miles to the +westward. This house is my uncle's summer residence, which he has lent +to my husband and me for the latter's after-cure. + +I am used to being up at this hour, or at any hour, owing to my +experience in nursing. As a matter of fact, I am restless with the +beginning of day, fearing lest my husband may need me. He is in the next +room. If he stirs I can hear him. In this room my baby is sleeping in +his little bassinet. It is not the bassinet of my dreams, nor is this +the white-enameled nursery, nor am I wearing a delicate lace peignoir. +It is all much more beautiful than that, because it is as it is. My +baby's name is John Howard Brokenshire Strangways, though we shorten it +to Broke, which, in the English fashion, we pronounce Brook. + +You will see why I wanted to call him by this name; but for that I must +hark back to the night when I returned the ring to dear Hugh Brokenshire +and fled. It is like a dream to me now, that night; but a dream still +vivid enough to recall. + +On escaping Hugh and making my way down-stairs I was lucky enough to +find Thomas, my rosebud footman knight. Poor lad! The judgment trumpet +was sounding for him, as for Franz Ferdinand and Sophie Chotek and the +rest of us. He went back to England shortly after that and was killed +the next year at the Dardanelles. But there he was for the moment, +standing with the wraps of the Rossiter party. + +"Thomas, call the motor," I said, hurriedly. "Be quick! I'm going home, +alone, and you must come with me. I've things for you to do. Mr. Jack +Brokenshire will bring Mrs. Rossiter." + +On the way I explained my program to him through the window. I had been +called suddenly to New York. There was a train from Boston to that city +which would stop at Providence at two. I thought there was one from +Newport to Providence about twelve-thirty, and it was now a quarter past +eleven. If there was such a train I must take it; if there wasn't, the +motor must run me up to Providence, for which there was still time. I +should delay only long enough to pack a suit-case. For the use I was +making of him and the chauffeur, as well as of the vehicle, I should be +responsible to my hosts. + +Both the men being my tacitly sworn friends, there was no questioning of +my authority. I fell back, therefore, into the depths of the limousine +with the first sense of relief I had had since the day I accepted my +position with Mrs. Rossiter. Something seemed to roll off me. I realized +all at once that I had never, during the whole of the two years, been +free from that necessity of picking my steps which one must have in +walking on a tight-rope. Now it was delicious. I could have wished that +the drive along Ochre Point Avenue had been thirty times as long. + +For Hugh I had no feeling of compunction. It was so blissful to be free. +Cissie Boscobel, I knew, would make up to him for all I had failed to +give, and would give more. Let me say at once that when, a few weeks +later, the man Lady Janet Boscobel was engaged to had also been killed +at the front, and her parents had begged Cissie to go home, Hugh was her +escort on the journey. It was the beginning of an end which I think is +in sight, of a healing which no one wishes so eagerly as I. + +For the last two years Cissie has been mothering Belgian children +somewhere in the neighborhood of Poperinghe, and Hugh has been in the +American Ambulance Corps before Verdun. That was Cissie's work, made +easier, perhaps, by some recollection he retained of me. When he has a +few days' leave--so Ethel Rossiter writes me--he spends it at +Goldborough Castle or Strath-na-Cloid. I ran across Cissie when for a +time I was helping in first-aid work not far behind the lines at Neuve +Chapelle. + +I had been taking care of her brother Rowan--Lord Ovingdean, he calls +himself now, hesitating to follow his brother as Lord Leatherhead, and +using one of his father's other secondary titles--and she had come to +see him. I hadn't supposed till then that we were such friends. We +talked and talked and talked, and still would have gone on talking. I +can understand what she sees in Hugh, though I could never feel it for +him with her intensity. I hope her devotion will be rewarded soon, and +I think it will. + +I had a premonition of this as I drove along Ochre Point Avenue that +night. It helped me to the joy of liberty, to rightness of heart. As I +threw the things into my suit-case I could have sung. Seraphine, who was +up, waiting for her mistress, being also my friend, promised to finish +my packing after I had gone, so that Mrs. Rossiter would have nothing to +do but send my boxes after me. It couldn't have been half an hour after +my arrival at the house before I was ready to drive away again. + +I was in the down-stairs hall, going out to the motor, when a great +black form appeared in the doorway. My knees shook under me; my +happiness came down like a shot bird. Mr. Brokenshire advanced and stood +under the many-colored Oriental hall lantern. I clung for support to the +pilaster that finished the balustrade of the stairway. + +There was gentleness in his voice, in spite of its whip-lash abruptness. + +"Where are you going?" + +I could hardly reply, my heart pounded with such fright. + +"To--to New York, sir." + +"What for?" + +"Be-because," I faltered. "I want to--to get away." + +"Why do you want to get away?" + +"For--for every reason." + +"But suppose I don't want you to go?" + +"I should still have to be gone." + +He said in a hoarse whisper: + +"I want you to stay--and--and marry Hugh." + +I clasped my hands. + +"Oh, but how can I?" + +"He's willing to forget what you've said--what my daughter Ethel has +said; and I'm willing to forget it, too." + +"Do you mean as to my being in love with some one else? But I am." + +"Not more than you were at the beginning of the evening. You were +willing to marry him then." + +"But he didn't know then what he's had to learn since. I hoped to have +kept it from him always. I may have been wrong--I suppose I was; but I +had nothing but good motives." + +There was a strange drop in his voice as he said, "I know you hadn't." + +I couldn't help taking a step nearer him. + +"Oh, do you? Then I'm so glad. I thought--" + +He turned slightly away from me, toward a huge ugly fish in a glass +case, which Mr. Rossiter believed to be a proof of his sportsmanship and +an ornament to the hall. + +"I've had great trials," he said, after a pause--"great trials!" + +[Illustration: "I'VE HAD GREAT TRIALS . . . I'VE ALWAYS BEEN MISJUDGED. +. . . THEY'VE PUT ME DOWN AS HARD AND PROUD"] + +"I know," I agreed, softly. + +He walked toward the fish and seemed to be studying it. + +"They've--they've--broken me down." + +"Oh, don't say that, sir!" + +"It's true." His finger outlined the fish's skeleton from head to tail. +"The things I said to-night--" He seemed hung up there. He traced the +fish's skeleton back from tail to head. "Have we been unkind to you?" he +demanded, suddenly, wheeling round in my direction. + +I thought it best to speak quite truthfully. + +"Not unkind, sir--exactly." + +"But what did Ethel mean? She said we'd been brutes to you. Is that +true?" + +"No, sir; not in my sense. I haven't felt it." + +He tapped his foot with the old imperiousness. "Then--what?" + +We were so near the fundamentals that again I felt I ought to give him +nothing but the facts. + +"I suppose Mrs. Rossiter meant that sometimes I should have been glad of +a little more sympathy, and always of more--courtesy." I added: "From +you, sir, I shouldn't have asked for more than courtesy." + +Though only his profile was toward me and the hall was dim, I could see +that his face was twitching. "And--and didn't you get it?" + +"Do you think I did?" + +"I never thought anything about it." + +"Exactly; but any one in my position does. Even if we could do without +courtesy between equals--and I don't think we can--from the higher to +the lower--from you to me, for instance--it's indispensable. I don't +remember that I ever complained of it, however. Mrs. Rossiter must have +seen it for herself." + +"I didn't want you to marry Hugh," he began, again, after a long pause; +"but I'd given in about it. I shouldn't have minded it so much if--if my +wife--" + +He broke off with a distressful, choking sound in the throat, and a +twisting of the head, as if he couldn't get his breath. That passed and +he began once more. + +"I've had great trials. . . . My wife! . . . And then the burden of this +war. . . . They think--they think I don't care anything about it +but--but just to make money. . . . I've always been misjudged. . . . +They've put me down as hard and proud, when--" + +"I could have liked you, sir," I interrupted, boldly. "I told you so +once, and it offended you. But I've never been able to help it. I've +always felt that there was something big and fine in you--if you'd only +set it free." + +His reply to this was to turn away from his contemplation of the fish +and say: + +"Why don't you come back?" + +I was sure it was best to be firm. + +"Because I can't, sir. The episode is--is over. I'm sorry, and yet I'm +glad. What I'm doing is right. I suppose everything has been right--even +what happened between me and Hugh. I don't think it will do him any +harm--Cissie Boscobel is there--and it's done me good. It's been a +wonderful experience; but it's over. It would be a mistake for me to go +back now--a mistake for all of us. Please let me go, sir; and just +remember of me that I'm--I'm--grateful." + +He regarded me quietly and--if I may say so--curiously. There was +something in his look, something broken, something defeated, something, +at long last, kind, that made me want to cry. + +I was crying inwardly when he turned about, without another word, and +walked toward the door. + +It must have been the impulse to say a silent good-by to him that sent +me slowly down the hall, though I was scarcely aware of moving. He had +gone out into the dark and I was under the Oriental lamp, when he +suddenly reappeared, coming in my direction rapidly. I would have leaped +back if I hadn't refused to show fear. As it was, I stood still. I was +only conscious of an overwhelming pity, terror, and amazement as he +seized me and kissed me hotly on the brow. Then he was gone. + +But it was that kiss which made all the difference in my afterthought of +him. It was a confession on his part, too, and a bit of self-revelation. +Behind it lay a nature of vast, splendid qualities--strong, noble, +dominating, meant to be used for good--all ruined by self-love. Of the +Brokenshire family, of whom I am so fond and to whom I owe so much, he +was the one toward whom, by some blind, spontaneous, subconscious +sympathy of my own, I have been most urgently attracted. If his soul was +twisted by passions as his face became twisted by them, too--well, who +is there among us of whom something of the sort may not be said; and yet +God has patience with us all. + +Howard Brokenshire and I were foes, and we fought; but we fought as so +many thousands, so many millions, have fought in the short time since +that day; we fought as those who, when the veils are suddenly stripped +away, when they are helpless on the battle-field after the battle, or on +hospital cots lined side by side, recognize one another as men and +brethren. And so, when my baby was born I called him after him. I wanted +the name as a symbol--not only to myself, but to the Brokenshire +family--that there was no bitterness in my heart. + +At present let me say that, though pained, I was scarcely surprised to +read in the New York papers on the following afternoon that Mr. J. +Howard Brokenshire, the eminent financier, had, on the previous evening, +been taken with a paralytic seizure while in his motor on the way from +his daughter's house to his own. He was conscious when carried indoors, +but he had lost the power of speech. The doctors indicated overwork in +connection with foreign affairs as the predisposing cause. + +From Mrs. Rossiter I heard as each successive shock overtook him. Very +pitifully the giant was laid low. Very tenderly--so Ethel has written +me--Mrs. Brokenshire has watched over him--and yet, I suppose, with a +terrible tragic expectation in her heart, which no one but myself, and +perhaps Stacy Grainger, can have shared with her. Howard Brokenshire +died on that early morning when his country went to war. + +I stayed in New York just long enough to receive my boxes from Newport. +On getting out of the train at Halifax Larry Strangways received me in +his arms. + +And this time I saw no little dining-room, with myself seating the +guests; I saw no bassinet and no baby. I saw nothing but him. I knew +nothing but him. He was all to me. It was the difference. + +And not the least of my surprises, when I came to find out, was the fact +that it was Jim Rossiter who had sent him there--Jim Rossiter, whom I +had rather despised as a selfish, cat-like person, with not much thought +beyond "ridin' and racin'," and pills and medicinal waters. That was +true of him; and yet he took the trouble to get into touch with Stacy +Grainger--as a Brokenshire only by affinity, he could do it--to use his +influence at Washington and Ottawa to get Larry Strangways a week's +leave from Princess Patricia's regiment--to watch over my movements in +New York and know the train I should take--and wire to Larry Strangways +the hour of my arrival. When I think of it I grow maudlin at the thought +of the good there is in every one. + +We were married within the week at the old church which was once a +center for Loyalist refugees from New England, beneath which some of +them lie buried, and where I was baptized. When my husband returned to +Valcartier I went--to be near him--to Quebec. After he sailed for +England I, too, sailed, and met him there. I kept near him in England, +taking such nursing training as I could while he trained in other ways. +I was not many miles away from him when, in the spring of the next +year, he was badly cut up at Bois Grenier, near Neuve Chapelle. + +He was one of the two or three Canadians to hold a listening post +half-way between the hostile lines, where they could hear the slightest +movement of the enemy and signal back. A Maxim swept the dugout at +intervals, and now and then a shell burst near them. My husband was +wounded in a leg and his right arm was shattered. + +When I was permitted to see him at Amiens the arm had been taken off and +the doctors were doing what they could to save the leg. Fortunately, +they have succeeded; and now he walks with no more than a noticeable +limp. He is a captain in Princess Patricia's regiment and a D. S. O. + +Later he was taken to the American Women's Hospital, at Paignton, in +Devonshire, and there again I had the joy of being near him. I couldn't +take care of him--I had not the skill, and perhaps my nerve would have +failed me--but I worked in the kitchen and was sometimes allowed to take +him his food and feed him. I think the hope, the expectation, of my +doing this was what brought him out of the profound silence into which +he was plunged when he arrived. + +That was the only sign of mental suffering I ever saw in him. For the +physical suffering he never seemed to care. But something deep and far +off, and beyond the beyond of self-consciousness, seemed to have been +reached by what he had seen and heard and done. It was said of Lazarus, +after his recall to life by Christ, that he never spoke of what he had +experienced in those four days; and I can say as much of my husband. + +When his mind reverts to the months in France and Flanders he grows +dumb. He grows dumb and his spirit moves away from me. It moves away +from me and from everything that is of this world. It is among scenes +past speech, past understanding, past imagining. He is Lazarus back in +the world, but with secrets in his keeping which no one may learn but +those who have learned them where he did. + +When he came to Paignton he was far removed from us; but little by +little he reapproached. I helped to restore him; and then, when the baby +was born, the return to earth was quickened. + +To have my baby I went over to Torquay, where I had six quiet contented +weeks in a room overlooking the peacock-blue waters of Tor Bay, with the +kindly roof that sheltered my husband in the distance. When I had +recovered I went to a cottage at Paignton, where, when he left the +hospital, he joined me. As the healing of the leg has been so slow, we +have been in the lovely Devon country ever since, till, a few weeks ago, +the British Government allowed us to cross on the ship that brought the +British Commissioners to Washington. + + * * * * * + +I have just been in to look at him. He is sound asleep, lying on his +left side, the coverlet sagging slightly at the shoulder where the right +arm is gone. He is getting accustomed to using his left hand, but not +rapidly. Meantime he is my other baby; and, in a way, I love to have it +so. I can be more to him. In proportion as he needs me the bond is +closer. + +He is a grave man now. The smile that used to flash like a sword between +us is never there any more. When he smiles it is with a long, slow smile +that comes from far away--perhaps from life as it was before the war. It +is a sweet smile, a brave one, one infinitely touching; and it pierces +me to the heart. + +He didn't have to forfeit his American citizenship in becoming one of +the glorious Princess Pats. They were glad to have him on any terms. He +is an American and I am one. I thought I became one without feeling any +difference. It seemed to me I had been born one, just as I had been born +a subject of the dear old queen. But on the night of our landing in +Halifax, a military band came and played the "Star-spangled Banner" +before my uncle's door, and I burst into the first tears I had shed +since my marriage. + +Through everything else I had been upheld; but at the strains of that +anthem, and all it implied, I broke down helplessly. When we went to the +door and my husband stood to listen to the cheering of my friends, in +his khaki with the empty sleeve, and the fine, stirring, noble air was +played again, his eyes, as well as mine, were wet. + +It recalled to me what he said once when I was allowed to relieve the +night nurse and sit beside him at Paignton. He woke in the small hours +and smiled at me--his distant, dreamy smile. His only words--words he +seemed to bring with him out of the lands of sleep, in which perhaps he +lived again what now was past for him--his only words were: + +"You know the Stars and Stripes were at Bois Grenier." + +"How?" I asked, to humor him, thinking him delirious. + +He laughed--the first thing that could be called a laugh since they had +brought him there. + +"Sewn or my undershirt--over my heart! It will be there again," he +added, "floating openly!" + +And almost immediately he fell asleep once more. + + * * * * * + +And, after all, it is to be there again--floating openly. The +time-struggle has taken it and will carry it aloft. It has taken other +flags, too--flags of Asia; flags of South America; flags of the islands +of the seas. As my husband predicted long ago, mankind is divided into +just two camps. So be it! God knows I don't want war. I have been too +near it, and too closely touched by it, ever to wish again to hear a +cannon-shot or see a sword. But I suppose it is all a part of the great +War in Heaven. + +Michael and his angels are fighting, and the dragon is fighting and his +angels. By that I do not mean that all the good is on one side and all +the evil on the other. God forbid! There is good and evil on both sides. +On both sides doubtless evil is being purged away and the new, true man +is coming to his own. + +If I think most of the spiritualization of France, and the consecration +of the British Empire, and the coming of a new manhood to the United +States, it is because these are the countries I know best. I should be +sorry, I should be hopeless, were I not to believe that, above +bloodshed, and cruelty, and hatred, and lust, and suffering, and all +that is abominable, the Holy Ghost is breathing on every nation of +mankind. + +When it is all over, and we have begun to live again, there will be a +great Renaissance. It will be what the word implies--a veritable New +Birth. The sword shall be beaten to a plowshare and the spear to a +pruning-hook. "Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither +shall they learn war any more." + +So, in this gray light, growing so silvery that as day advances it +becomes positively golden, I turn to my Bible. It is extraordinary how +comforting the Bible has become in these days when hearts have been +lifted up into long-unexplored regions of terror and courage. Men and +women who had given up reading it, men and women who have never read it +at all, turn its pages with trembling hands and find the wisdom of the +ages. And so I read what for the moment have become to me its most +strengthening words: + + In your patience possess ye your souls. . . . There shall be + signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon + the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and the + waves roaring; men's hearts failing them for fear, and for + looking after those things which are coming on the earth; for + the powers of heaven shall be shaken. . . . And when these + things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your + heads; for your redemption draweth nigh. + +That is what I believe--that through this travail of the New Birth for +all mankind redemption is on the way. + +It is coming like the sunrise I now see over the ocean. In it are the +glories that never were on land or sea. It paints the things which have +never entered into the heart of man, but which God has prepared for them +that love him. It is the future; it is Heaven. Not a future that no man +will live to see; not a Heaven beyond death and the blue sky. It is a +future so nigh as to be at the doors; it is the Kingdom of Heaven within +us. + +Meantime there is saffron pulsating into emerald, and emerald into rose, +and rose into lilac, and lilac into pearl, and pearl into the great gray +canopy that has hardly as yet been touched with light. + +And the great gray ocean is responding a fleck of color here, a hint of +glory there; and now, stealing westward, from wavelet to wavelet, +stealing and ever stealing, nearer and still more near, a wide, golden +pathway, as if some Mighty One were coming straight to me. "Even so, +come, Lord Jesus." + +Even so I look up, and lift up my head. Even so I possess my soul in +patience. + +Even so, too, I think of Mildred Brokenshire's words: + +"Life is not a blind impulse, working blindly. It is a beneficent, +rectifying power." + + + THE END + + + =Transcriber's Notes:= + original hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in + the original + Page 8, "won't he Miss" changed to "won't be Miss" + Page 32, "was to indignant" changed to "was too indignant" + Page 43, "what is is" changed to "what it is" + Page 72, "shoulder. "No" changed to "shoulder, "No" + Page 84, "Glady's" changed to "Gladys's" + Page 85, "Glady's" changed to "Gladys's" + Page 93, "presisted" changed to "persisted" + Page 129, "waistcoat. a slate-colored" changed to "waistcoat, a + slate-colored" + Page 150, "come an and" changed to "come and" + Page 178, "stammer the words" changed to "stammer the words--" + Page 211, "well received His" changed to "well received. His" + Page 230, "your hand but" changed to "your hand, but" + Page 235, "put in it my" changed to "put it in my" + Page 235, "'I could be" changed to '"I could be' + Page 268, "at last "but" changed to "at last, "but" + Page 293, "'So much that" changed to '"So much that' + Page 297, "The darlings!'" changed to 'The darlings!"' + Page 312, "ligthning" changed to "lightning" + Page 333, "must be true" changed to "must be true." + Page 334, "broke in, quietly" changed to "broke in, quietly." + Page 398, "dumfounded" changed to "dumbfounded" + Page 409, "want you so stay" changed to "want you to stay" + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The High Heart, by Basil King + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIGH HEART *** + +***** This file should be named 35463.txt or 35463.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/6/35463/ + +Produced by Barbara Watson, Ross Cooling and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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