diff options
Diffstat (limited to '5382.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 5382.txt | 19864 |
1 files changed, 19864 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/5382.txt b/5382.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..58a5a38 --- /dev/null +++ b/5382.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19864 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Modern Chronicle, Complete, by Winston Churchill +[Author is the American Winston Churchill not the British] + +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: A Modern Chronicle, Complete + +Author: Winston Churchill + +Last Updated: March 6, 2009 +Release Date: October 6, 2006 [EBook #5382] +[Last updated: July 16, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MODERN CHRONICLE, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +A MODERN CHRONICLE + +By Winston Churchill + + + +CONTENTS + + BOOK I. + + Volume 1. + I. WHAT'S IN HEREDITY? + II. PERDITA RECALLED + III. CONCERNING PROVIDENCE + IV. OF TEMPERAMENT + V. IN WHICH PROVIDENCE BEEPS FAITH + VI. HONORA HAS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD + + Volume 2. + VII. THE OLYMPIAN ORDER + VIII. A CHAPTER OF CONQUESTS + IX. IN WHICH THE VICOMTE CONTINUES HIS STUDIES + X. IN WHICH HONORA WIDENS HER HORIZON + XI. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN + XII. WHICH CONTAINS A SURPRISE FOR MRS. HOLT + + + BOOK II. Volume 3. + I. SO LONG AS YE BOTH SHALL LIVE + II. "STAFFORD PARK" + III. THE GREAT UNATTACHED + IV. THE NEW DOCTRINE + V. QUICKSANDS + VI. GAD AND MENI. Volume 4. + VII. OF CERTAIN DELICATE MATTERS + VIII. OF MENTAL PROCESSES-FEMININE AND INSOLUBLE + IX. INTRODUCING A REVOLUTIONIZING VEHICLE + X. ON THE ART OF LION TAMING + XI. CONTAINING SOME REVELATIONS + + + BOOK III. Volume 5. + I. ASCENDI + II. THE PATH OF PHILANTHROPY + III. VINELAND + IV. THE VIKING + V. THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST + + Volume 6. + VI. CLIO, OR THALIA? + VII "LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS" + VIII. IN WHICH THE LAW BETRAYS A HEART + IX. WYLIE STREET + X. THE PRICE OF FREEDOM + + Volume 7. + XI. IN WHICH IT IS ALL DONE OVER AGAIN + XII. THE ENTRANCE INTO EDEN + XIII. OF THE WORLD BEYOND THE GATES. + XIV. CONTAINING PHILOSOPHY FROM MR. GRAINGER + XV. THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY + + Volume 8. + XVI. IN WHICH A MIRROR IS HELD UP + XVII. THE RENEWAL OF AN ANCIENT HOSPITALITY + XVIII. IN WHICH MR. ERWIN SEES PARIS + + + + +A MODERN CHRONICLE + + + + +CHAPTER I. WHAT'S IN HEREDITY + +Honora Leffingwell is the original name of our heroine. She was born in +the last quarter of the Nineteenth Century, at Nice, in France, and she +spent the early years of her life in St. Louis, a somewhat conservative +old city on the banks of the Mississippi River. Her father was Randolph +Leffingwell, and he died in the early flower of his manhood, while +filling with a grace that many remember the post of United States Consul +at Nice. As a linguist he was a phenomenon, and his photograph in the +tortoise-shell frame proves indubitably, to anyone acquainted with the +fashions of 1870, that he was a master of that subtlest of all arts, +dress. He had gentle blood in his veins, which came from Virginia +through Kentucky in a coach and six, and he was the equal in appearance +and manners of any duke who lingered beside classic seas. + +Honora has often pictured to herself a gay villa set high above the +curving shore, the amethyst depths shading into emerald, laced with +milk-white foam, the vivid colours of the town, the gay costumes; the +excursions, the dinner-parties presided over by the immaculate young +consul in three languages, and the guests chosen from the haute noblesse +of Europe. Such was the vision in her youthful mind, added to by degrees +as she grew into young-ladyhood and surreptitiously became familiar +with the writings of Ouida and the Duchess, and other literature of an +educating cosmopolitan nature. + +Honora's biography should undoubtedly contain a sketch of Mrs. Randolph +Leffingwell. Beauty and dash and a knowledge of how to seat a table seem +to have been the lady's chief characteristics; the only daughter of +a carefully dressed and carefully, preserved widower, likewise a +linguist,--whose super-refined tastes and the limited straits to which +he, the remaining scion of an old Southern family, had been reduced by a +gentlemanly contempt for money, led him 'to choose Paris rather than +New York as a place of residence. One of the occasional and carefully +planned trips to the Riviera proved fatal to the beautiful but reckless +Myrtle Allison. She, who might have chosen counts or dukes from the +Tagus to the Danube, or even crossed the Channel; took the dashing +but impecunious American consul, with a faith in his future that was +sublime. Without going over too carefully the upward path which led to +the post of their country's representative at the court of St. James, +neither had the slightest doubt that Randolph Leffingwell would tread +it. + +It is needless to dwell upon the chagrin of Honora's maternal +grandfather, Howard Allison Esquire, over this turn of affairs, this +unexpected bouleversement, as he spoke of it in private to his friends +in his Parisian club. For many years he had watched the personal +attractions of his daughter grow, and a brougham and certain other +delights not to be mentioned had gradually become, in his mind, +synonymous with old age. The brougham would have on its panels the +Allison crest, and his distinguished (and titled) son-in-law would drop +in occasionally at the little apartment on the Boulevard Haussmann. +Alas, for visions, for legitimate hopes shattered forever! On the day +that Randolph Leffingwell led Miss Allison down the aisle of the English +church the vision of the brougham and the other delights faded. Howard +Allison went back to his club. + +Three years later, while on an excursion with Sir Nicholas Baker and a +merry party on the Italian aide, the horses behind which Mr. and Mrs. +Leffingwell were driving with their host ran away, and in the flight +managed to precipitate the vehicle, and themselves, down the side of one +of the numerous deep valleys of the streams seeking the Mediterranean. +Thus, by a singular caprice of destiny Honors was deprived of both her +parents at a period which--some chose to believe--was the height of +their combined glories. Randolph Leffingwell lived long enough to be +taken back to Nice, and to consign his infant daughter and sundry other +unsolved problems to his brother Tom. + +Brother Tom--or Uncle Tom, as we must call him with Honora--cheerfully +accepted the charge. For his legacies in life had been chiefly +blessings in disguise. He was paying teller of the Prairie Bank, and the +thermometer registered something above 90 deg. Fahrenheit on the July +morning when he stood behind his wicket reading a letter from Howard +Allison, Esquire, relative to his niece. Mr. Leffingwell was at this +period of his life forty-eight, but the habit he had acquired of +assuming responsibilities and burdens seemed to have had the effect of +making his age indefinite. He was six feet tall, broad-shouldered, his +mustache and hair already turning; his eyebrows were a trifle bushy, and +his eyes reminded men of one eternal and highly prized quality--honesty. +They were blue grey. Ordinarily they shed a light which sent people +away from his window the happier without knowing why; but they had been +known, on rare occasions, to flash on dishonesty and fraud like the +lightnings of the Lord. Mr. Isham, the president of the bank, coined a +phrase about him. He said that Thomas Leffingwell was constitutionally +honest. + +Although he had not risen above the position of paying teller, Thomas +Leffingwell had a unique place in the city of his birth; and the esteem +in which he was held by capitalists and clerks proves that character +counts for something. On his father's failure and death he had entered +the Prairie Bank, at eighteen, and never left it. If he had owned it, +he could not have been treated by the customers with more respect. The +city, save for a few notable exceptions, like Mr. Isham, called him Mr. +Leffingwell, but behind his back often spoke of him as Tom. + +On the particular hot morning in question, as he stood in his seersucker +coat reading the unquestionably pompous letter of Mr. Allison announcing +that his niece was on the high seas, he returned the greetings of his +friends with his usual kindness and cheer. In an adjoining compartment a +long-legged boy of fourteen was busily stamping letters. + +"Peter," said Mr. Leffingwell, "go ask Mr. Isham if I may see him." + +It is advisable to remember the boy's name. It was Peter Erwin, and +he was a favourite in the bank, where he had been introduced by Mr. +Leffingwell himself. He was an orphan and lived with his grandmother, +an impoverished old lady with good blood in her veins who boarded in +Graham's Row, on Olive Street. Suffice it to add, at this time, that he +worshipped Mr. Leffingwell, and that he was back in a twinkling with the +information that Mr. Isham was awaiting him. + +The president was seated at his desk. In spite of the thermometer +he gave no appearance of discomfort in his frock-coat. He had scant, +sandy-grey whiskers, a tightly closed and smooth-shaven upper lip, a +nose with-a decided ridge, and rather small but penetrating eyes in +which the blue pigment had been used sparingly. His habitual mode of +speech was both brief and sharp, but people remarked that he modified it +a little for Tom Leffingwell. + +"Come in, Tom," he said. "Anything the matter?" + +"Mr. Isham, I want a week off, to go to New York." + +The request, from Tom Leffingwell, took Mr. Isham's breath. One of the +bank president's characteristics was an extreme interest in the private +affairs of those who came within his zone of influence and especially +when these affairs evinced any irregularity. + +"Randolph again?" he asked quickly. + +Tom walked to the window, and stood looking out into the street. His +voice shook as he answered: + +"Ten days ago I learned that my brother was dead, Mr. Isham." + +The president glanced at the broad back of his teller. Mr. Isham's voice +was firm, his face certainly betrayed no feeling, but a flitting gleam +of satisfaction might have been seen in his eye. + +"Of course, Tom, you may go," he answered. + +Thus came to pass an event in the lives of Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary, that +journey to New York (their first) of two nights and two days to fetch +Honora. We need not dwell upon all that befell them. The first view of +the Hudson, the first whiff of the salt air on this unwonted holiday, +the sights of this crowded city of wealth,--all were tempered by the +thought of the child coming into their lives. They were standing on +the pier when the windows were crimson in the early light, and at +nine o'clock on that summer's morning the Albania was docked, and the +passengers came crowding down the gang-plank. Prosperous tourists, most +of them, with servants and stewards carrying bags of English design and +checked steamer rugs; and at last a ruddy-faced bonne with streamers +and a bundle of ribbons and laces--Honora--Honora, aged eighteen months, +gazing at a subjugated world. + +"What a beautiful child! exclaimed a woman on the pier." + +Was it instinct or premonition that led them to accost the bonne? + +"Oui, Leffingwell!" she cried, gazing at them in some perplexity. Three +children of various sizes clung to her skirts, and a younger nurse +carried a golden-haired little girl of Honora's age. A lady and +gentleman followed. The lady was beginning to look matronly, and no +second glance was required to perceive that she was a person of opinion +and character. Mr. Holt was smaller than his wife, neat in dress and +unobtrusive in appearance. In the rich Mrs. Holt, the friend of the +Randolph Leffingwells, Aunt Mary was prepared to find a more vapidly +fashionable personage, and had schooled herself forthwith. + +"You are Mrs. Thomas Leffingwell?" she asked. "Well, I am relieved." The +lady's eyes, travelling rapidly over Aunt Mary's sober bonnet and brooch +and gown, made it appear that these features in Honora's future guardian +gave her the relief in question. "Honora, this is your aunt." + +Honora smiled from amidst the laces, and Aunt Mary, only too ready to +capitulate, surrendered. She held out her arms. Tears welled up in the +Frenchwoman's eyes as she abandoned her charge. + +"Pauvre mignonne!" she cried. + +But Mrs. Holt rebuked the nurse sharply, in French,--a language with +which neither Aunt Mary nor Uncle Tom was familiar. Fortunately, +perhaps. Mrs. Holt's remark was to the effect that Honora was going to a +sensible home. + +"Hortense loves her better than my own children," said that lady. + +Honora seemed quite content in the arms of Aunt Mary, who was gazing +so earnestly into the child's face that she did not at first hear Mrs. +Holt's invitation to take breakfast with them on Madison Avenue, and +then she declined politely. While grossing on the steamer, Mrs. Holt had +decided quite clearly in her mind just what she was going to say to the +child's future guardian, but there was something in Aunt Mary's voice +and manner which made these remarks seem unnecessary--although Mrs. Holt +was secretly disappointed not to deliver them. + +"It was fortunate that we happened to, be in Nice at the time," she said +with the evident feeling that some explanation was due. "I did not +know poor Mrs. Randolph Leffingwell very--very intimately, or Mr. +Leffingwell. It was such a sudden--such a terrible affair. But Mr. Holt +and I were only too glad to do what we could." + +"We feel very grateful to you," said Aunt Mary, quietly. + +Mrs. Holt looked at her with a still more distinct approval, being +tolerably sure that Mrs. Thomas Leffingwell understood. She had cleared +her skirts of any possible implication of intimacy with the late Mrs. +Randolph, and done so with a master touch. + +In the meantime Honora had passed to Uncle Tom. After securing the +little trunk, and settling certain matters with Mr. Holt, they said +good-by to her late kind protectors, and started off for the nearest +street-cars, Honora pulling Uncle Tom's mustache. More than one +pedestrian paused to look back at the tall man carrying the beautiful +child, bedecked like a young princess, and more than one passenger in +the street cars smiled at them both. + + + + +CHAPTER II. PERDITA RECALLED + +Saint Louis, or that part of it which is called by dealers in real +estate the choice residence section, grew westward. And Uncle Tom might +be said to have been in the vanguard of the movement. In the days before +Honora was born he had built his little house on what had been a farm on +the Olive Street Road, at the crest of the second ridge from the river. +Up this ridge, with clanking traces, toiled the horse-cars that carried +Uncle Tom downtown to the bank and Aunt Mary to market. + +Fleeing westward, likewise, from the smoke, friends of Uncle Tom's and +Aunt Mary's gradually surrounded them--building, as a rule, the high +Victorian mansions in favour at that period, which were placed in the +centre of commodious yards. For the friends of Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary +were for the most part rich, and belonged, as did they, to the older +families of the city. Mr. Dwyer's house, with its picture gallery, was +across the street. + +In the midst of such imposing company the little dwelling which became +the home of our heroine sat well back in a plot that might almost be +called a garden. In summer its white wooden front was nearly hidden by +the quivering leaves of two tall pear trees. On the other side of the +brick walk, and near the iron fence, was an elm and a flower bed that +was Uncle Tom's pride and the admiration of the neighbourhood. Honora +has but to shut her eyes to see it aflame with tulips at Eastertide. The +eastern wall of the house was a mass of Virginia creeper, and beneath +that another flower bed, and still another in the back-yard behind +the lattice fence covered with cucumber vine. There were, besides, two +maples and two apricot trees, relics of the farm, and of blessed memory. +Such apricots! Visions of hot summer evenings come back, with Uncle Tom, +in his seersucker coat, with his green watering-pot, bending over the +beds, and Aunt Mary seated upright in her chair, looking up from her +knitting with a loving eye. + +Behind the lattice, on these summer evenings, stands the militant figure +of that old retainer, Bridget the cook, her stout arms akimbo, ready to +engage in vigorous banter should Honora deign to approach. + +"Whisht, 'Nora darlint, it's a young lady yell be soon, and the beaux +a-comin' 'round!" she would cry, and throw back her head and laugh until +the tears were in her eyes. + +And the princess, a slim figure in an immaculate linen frock with red +ribbons which Aunt Mary had copied from Longstreth's London catalogue, +would reply with dignity: + +"Bridget, I wish you would try to remember that my name is Honora." + +Another spasm of laughter from Bridget. + +"Listen to that now!" she would cry to another ancient retainer, Mary +Ann, the housemaid, whose kitchen chair was tilted up against the side +of the woodshed. "It'll be Miss Honora next, and George Hanbury here +to-day with his eye through a knothole in the fence, out of his head for +a sight of ye." + +George Hanbury was Honora's cousin, and she did not deem his admiration +a subject fit for discussion with Bridget. + +"Sure," declared Mary Ann, "it's the air of a princess the child has." + +That she should be thought a princess did not appear at all remarkable +to Honora at twelve years of age. Perdita may have had such dreams. +She had been born, she knew, in some wondrous land by the shores of the +summer seas, not at all like St. Louis, and friends and relatives +had not hesitated to remark in her hearing that she resembled--her +father,--that handsome father who surely must have been a prince, whose +before-mentioned photograph in the tortoise-shell frame was on the +bureau in her little room. So far as Randolph Leffingwell was concerned, +photography had not been invented for nothing. Other records of him +remained which Honora had likewise seen: one end of a rose-covered +villa--which Honora thought was a wing of his palace; a coach and +four he was driving, and which had chanced to belong to an Englishman, +although the photograph gave no evidence of this ownership. Neither +Aunt Mary nor Uncle Tom had ever sought--for reasons perhaps obvious--to +correct the child's impression of an extraordinary paternity. + +Aunt Mary was a Puritan of Southern ancestry, and her father had been a +Presbyterian minister, Uncle Tom was a member of the vestry of a church +still under Puritan influences. As a consequence for Honora, there were +Sunday afternoons--periods when the imaginative faculty, in which she +was by no means lacking, was given full play. She would sit by the +hour in the swing Uncle Tom had hung for her under the maple near the +lattice, while castles rose on distant heights against blue skies. There +was her real home, in a balconied chamber that overlooked mile upon mile +of rustling forest in the valley; and when the wind blew, the sound of +it was like the sea. Honora did not remember the sea, but its music was +often in her ears. + +She would be aroused from these dreams of greatness by the appearance of +old Catherine, her nurse, on the side porch, reminding her that it +was time to wash for supper. No princess could have had a more humble +tiring-woman than Catherine. + +Honora cannot be unduly blamed. When she reached the "little house +under the hill" (as Catherine called the chamber beneath the eaves), she +beheld reflected in the mirror an image like a tall, white flower that +might indeed have belonged to a princess. Her hair, the colour of +burnt sienna, fell evenly to her shoulders; her features even then had +regularity and hauteur; her legs, in their black silk stockings, were +straight; and the simple white lawn frock made the best of a slender +figure. Those frocks of Honora's were a continual source of wonder and +sometimes of envy--to Aunt Mary's friends; who returned from the seaside +in the autumn, after a week among the fashions in Boston or New York, +to find Honora in the latest models, and better dressed than their own +children. Aunt Mary made no secret of the methods by which these seeming +miracles were performed, and showed Cousin Eleanor Hanbury the fashion +plates in the English periodicals. Cousin Eleanor sighed. + +"Mary, you are wonderful," she would say. "Honora's clothes are +better-looking than those I buy in the East, at such fabulous prices, +from Cavendish." + +Indeed, no woman was ever farther removed from personal vanity than Aunt +Mary. She looked like a little Quakeress. Her silvered hair was parted +in the middle and had, in spite of palpable efforts towards tightness +and repression, a perceptible ripple in it. Grey was her only concession +to colour, and her gowns and bonnets were of a primness which belonged +to the past. Repression, or perhaps compression, was her note, for the +energy confined within her little body was a thing to have astounded +scientists: And Honora grew to womanhood and reflection before she had. +guessed or considered that her aunt was possessed of intense emotions +which had no outlet. Her features were regular, her shy eye had the +clearness of a forest pool. She believed in predestination, which is +to say that she was a fatalist; and while she steadfastly continued to +regard this world as a place of sorrow and trials, she concerned herself +very little about her participation in a future life. Old Dr. Ewing, the +rector of St. Anne's, while conceding that no better or more charitable +woman existed, found it so exceedingly difficult to talk to her, on the +subject of religion that he had never tried it but once. + +Such was Aunt Mary. The true student of human nature should not find it +surprising that she spoiled Honora and strove--at what secret expense, +care, and self-denial to Uncle Tom and herself, none will ever know--to +adorn the child that she might appear creditably among companions whose +parents were more fortunate in this world's goods; that she denied +herself to educate Honora as these other children were educated. Nor is +it astonishing that she should not have understood the highly complex +organism of the young lady we have chosen for our heroine, who was +shaken, at the age of thirteen, by unfulfilled longings. + +Very early in life Honora learned to dread the summer, when one by one +the families of her friends departed until the city itself seemed a +remote and distant place from what it had been in the spring and +winter. The great houses were closed and blinded, and in the evening the +servants who had been left behind chattered on the front steps. Honora +could not bear the sound of the trains that drifted across the night, +and the sight of the trunks piled in the Hanburys' hall, in Wayland +Square, always filled her with a sickening longing. Would the day ever +come when she, too, would depart for the bright places of the earth? +Sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, she was filled with a fierce +belief in a destiny to sit in the high seats, to receive homage and +dispense bounties, to discourse with great intellects, to know London +and Paris and the marts and centres of the world as her father had. To +escape--only to escape from the prison walls of a humdrum existence, and +to soar! + +Let us, if we can, reconstruct an August day when all (or nearly all) +of Honora's small friends were gone eastward to the mountains or the +seaside. In "the little house under the hill," the surface of which was +a hot slate roof, Honora would awake about seven o'clock to find old +Catherine bending over her in a dun-coloured calico dress, with the +light fiercely beating against the closed shutters that braved it so +unflinchingly throughout the day. + +"The birds are before ye, Miss Honora, honey, and your uncle waterin' +his roses this half-hour." + +Uncle Tom was indeed an early riser. As Honora dressed (Catherine +assisting as at a ceremony), she could see him, in his seersucker coat, +bending tenderly over his beds; he lived enveloped in a peace which has +since struck wonder to Honora's soul. She lingered in her dressing, even +in those days, falling into reveries from which Catherine gently and +deferentially aroused her; and Uncle Tom would be carving the beefsteak +and Aunt Mary pouring the coffee when she finally arrived in the dining +room to nibble at one of Bridget's unforgettable rolls or hot biscuits. +Uncle Tom had his joke, and at quarter-past eight precisely he would +kiss Aunt Mary and walk to the corner to wait for the ambling horse-car +that was to take him to the bank. Sometimes Honora went to the corner +with him, and he waved her good-by from the platform as he felt in his +pocket for the nickel that was to pay his fare. + +When Honora returned, Aunt Mary had donned her apron, and was +industriously aiding Mary Ann to wash the dishes and maintain the +customary high polish on her husband's share of the Leffingwell silver +which, standing on the side table, shot hither and thither rays of green +light that filtered through the shutters into the darkened room. The +child partook of Aunt Mary's pride in that silver, made for a Kentucky +great-grandfather Leffingwell by a famous Philadelphia silversmith +three-quarters of a century before. Honora sighed. + +"What's the matter, Honora?" asked Aunt Mary, without pausing in her +vigorous rubbing. + +"The Leffingwells used to be great once upon a time, didn't they, Aunt +Mary?" + +"Your Uncle Tom," answered Aunt Mary, quietly, "is the greatest man I +know, child." + +"And my father must have been a great man, too," cried Honora, "to have +been a consul and drive coaches." + +Aunt Mary was silent. She was not a person who spoke easily on difficult +subjects. + +"Why don't you ever talk to me about my father, Aunt Mary? Uncle Tom +does." + +"I didn't know your father, Honora." + +"But you have seen him?" + +"Yes," said Aunt Mary, dipping her cloth into the whiting; "I saw him at +my wedding. But he was very, young." + +"What was he like?" Honora demanded. "He was very handsome, wasn't he?" + +"Yes, child." + +"And he had ambition, didn't he, Aunt Mary?" + +Aunt Mary paused. Her eyes were troubled as she looked at Honora, whose +head was thrown back. + +"What kind of ambition do you mean, Honora?" + +"Oh," cried Honora, "to be great and rich and powerful, and to be +somebody." + +"Who has been putting such things in your head, my dear?" + +"No one, Aunt Mary. Only, if I were a man, I shouldn't rest until I +became great." + +Alas, that Aunt Mary, with all her will, should have such limited powers +of expression! She resumed her scrubbing of the silver before she spoke. + +"To do one's duty, to accept cheerfully and like a Christian the +responsibilities and burdens of life, is the highest form of greatness, +my child. Your Uncle Tom has had many things to trouble him; he has +always worked for others, and not for himself. And he is respected and +loved by all who know him." + +"Yes, I know, Aunt Mary. But--" + +"But what, Honora?" + +"Then why isn't he rich, as my father was?" + +"Your father wasn't rich, my dear," said Aunt Mary, sadly. + +"Why, Aunt Mary!" Honora exclaimed, "he lived in a beautiful house, and +owned horses. Isn't that being rich?" + +Poor Aunt Mary! + +"Honora," she answered, "there are some things you are too young to +understand. But try to remember, my dear, that happiness doesn't consist +in being rich." + +"But I have often heard you say that you wished you were rich, Aunt +Mary, and had nice things, and a picture gallery like Mr. Dwyer." + +"I should like to have beautiful pictures, Honora." + +"I don't like Mr. Dwyer," declared Honora, abruptly. + +"You mustn't say that, Honora," was Aunt Mary's reproof. "Mr. Dwyer +is an upright, public-spirited man, and he thinks a great deal of your +Uncle Tom." + +"I can't help it, Aunt Mary," said Honora. "I think he enjoys +being--well, being able to do things for a man like Uncle Tom." + +Neither Aunt Mary nor Honora guessed what a subtle criticism this was +of Mr. Dwyer. Aunt Mary was troubled and puzzled; and she began to +speculate (not for the first time) why the Lord had given a person with +so little imagination a child like Honora to bring up in the straight +and narrow path. + +"When I go on Sunday afternoons with Uncle Tom to see Mr. Dwyer's +pictures," Honora persisted, "I always feel that he is so glad to have +what other people haven't or he wouldn't have any one to show them to." + +Aunt Mary shook her head. Once she had given her loyal friendship, such +faults as this became as nothing. + +"And when" said Honora, "when Mrs. Dwyer has dinner-parties for +celebrated people who come here, why does she invite you in to see the +table?" + +"Out of kindness, Honora. Mrs. Dwyer knows that I enjoy looking at +beautiful things." + +"Why doesn't she invite you to the dinners?" asked Honora, hotly. "Our +family is just as good as Mrs. Dwyer's." + +The extent of Aunt Mary's distress was not apparent. + +"You are talking nonsense, my child," she said. "All my friends know +that I am not a person who can entertain distinguished people, and that +I do not go out, and that I haven't the money to buy evening dresses. +And even if I had," she added, "I haven't a pretty neck, so it's just as +well." + +A philosophy distinctly Aunt Mary's. + +Uncle Tom, after he had listened without comment that evening to her +account of this conversation, was of the opinion that to take Honora +to task for her fancies would be waste of breath; that they would right +themselves as she grew up. + +"I'm afraid it's inheritance, Tom," said Aunt Mary, at last. "And if +so, it ought to be counteracted. We've seen other signs of it. You +know Honora has little or no idea of the value of money--or of its +ownership." + +"She sees little enough of it," Uncle Tom remarked with a smile. + +"Tom." + +"Well." + +"Sometimes I think I've done wrong not to dress her more simply. I'm +afraid it's given the child a taste for--for self-adornment." + +"I once had a fond belief that all women possessed such a taste," said +Uncle Tom, with a quizzical look at his own exception. "To tell you the +truth, I never classed it as a fault." + +"Then I don't see why you married me," said Aunt Mary--a periodical +remark of hers. "But, Tom, I do wish her to appear as well as the other +children, and (Aunt Mary actually blushed) the child has good looks." + +"Why don't you go as far as old Catherine, and call her a princess?" he +asked. + +"Do you want me to ruin her utterly?" exclaimed Aunt Mary. + +Uncle Tom put his hands on his wife's shoulders and looked down into her +face, and smiled again. Although she held herself very straight, the top +of her head was very little above the level of his chin. + +"It strikes me that you are entitled to some little indulgence in life, +Mary," he said. + +One of the curious contradictions of Aunt Mary's character was a never +dying interest, which held no taint of envy, in the doings of people +more fortunate than herself. In the long summer days, after her silver +was cleaned and her housekeeping and marketing finished, she read in the +book-club periodicals of royal marriages, embassy balls, of great town +and country houses and their owners at home and abroad. And she knew, +by means of a correspondence with Cousin Eleanor Hanbury and other +intimates, the kind of cottages in which her friends sojourned at the +seashore or in the mountains; how many rooms they had, and how many +servants, and very often who the servants were; she was likewise +informed on the climate, and the ease with which it was possible to +obtain fresh vegetables. And to all of this information Uncle Tom would +listen, smiling but genuinely interested, while he carved at dinner. + +One evening, when Uncle Tom had gone to play piquet with Mr. Isham, who +was ill, Honora further surprised her aunt by exclaiming: "How can you +talk of things other people have and not want them, Aunt Mary?" + +"Why should I desire what I cannot have, my dear? I take such pleasure +out of my friends' possessions as I can." + +"But you want to go to the seashore, I know you do. I've heard you say +so," Honora protested. + +"I should like to see the open ocean before I die," admitted Aunt Mary, +unexpectedly. "I saw New York harbour once, when we went to meet you. +And I know how the salt water smells--which is as much, perhaps, as I +have the right to hope for. But I have often thought it would be nice to +sit for a whole summer by the sea and listen to the waves dashing upon +the beach, like those in the Chase picture in Mr. Dwyer's gallery." + +Aunt Mary little guessed the unspeakable rebellion aroused in Honora by +this acknowledgment of being fatally circumscribed. Wouldn't Uncle Tom +ever be rich? + +Aunt Mary shook her head--she saw no prospect of it. + +But other men, who were not half so good as Uncle Tom, got rich. + +Uncle Tom was not the kind of man who cared for riches. He was content +to do his duty in that sphere where God had placed him. + +Poor Aunt Mary. Honora never asked her uncle such questions: to do so +never occurred to her. At peace with all men, he gave of his best to +children, and Honora remained a child. Next to his flowers, walking was +Uncle Tom's chief recreation, and from the time she could be guided by +the hand she went with him. His very presence had the gift of dispelling +longings, even in the young; the gift of compelling delight in simple +things. Of a Sunday afternoon, if the heat were not too great, he would +take Honora to the wild park that stretches westward of the city, and +something of the depth and intensity of his pleasure in the birds, +the forest, and the wild flowers would communicate itself to her. She +learned all unconsciously (by suggestion, as it were) to take delight in +them; a delight that was to last her lifetime, a never failing resource +to which she was to turn again and again. In winter, they went to the +botanical gardens or the Zoo. Uncle Tom had a passion for animals, and +Mr. Isham, who was a director, gave him a pass through the gates. The +keepers knew him, and spoke to him with kindly respect. Nay, it seemed +to Honora that the very animals knew him, and offered themselves +ingratiatingly to be stroked by one whom they recognized as friend. +Jaded horses in the street lifted their noses; stray, homeless cats +rubbed against his legs, and vagrant dogs looked up at him trustfully +with wagging tails. + +Yet his goodness, as Emerson would have said, had some edge to it. +Honora had seen the light of anger in his blue eye--a divine ray. Once +he had chastised her for telling Aunt Mary a lie (she could not have +lied to him) and Honora had never forgotten it. The anger of such a man +had indeed some element in it of the divine; terrible, not in volume, +but in righteous intensity. And when it had passed there was no occasion +for future warning. The memory of it lingered. + + + + +CHAPTER III. CONCERNING PROVIDENCE + +What quality was it in Honora that compelled Bridget to stop her ironing +on Tuesdays in order to make hot waffles for a young woman who was late +to breakfast? Bridget, who would have filled the kitchen with righteous +wrath if Aunt Mary had transgressed the rules of the house, which were +like the laws of the Medes and Persians! And in Honora's early youth +Mary Ann, the housemaid, spent more than one painful evening writing +home for cockle shells and other articles to propitiate our princess, +who rewarded her with a winning smile and a kiss, which invariably +melted the honest girl into tears. The Queen of Scots never had a more +devoted chamber woman than old Catherine,--who would have gone to the +stake with a smile to save her little lady a single childish ill, and +who spent her savings, until severely taken to task by Aunt Mary, +upon objects for which a casual wish had been expressed. The saints +themselves must at times have been aweary from hearing Honora's name. + +Not to speak of Christmas! Christmas in the little house was one wild +delirium of joy. The night before the festival was, to all outward +appearances, an ordinary evening, when Uncle Tom sat by the fire in his +slippers, as usual, scouting the idea that there would be any Christmas +at all. Aunt Mary sewed, and talked with maddening calmness of the news +of the day; but for Honora the air was charged with coming events of +the first magnitude. The very furniture of the little sitting-room had +a different air, the room itself wore a mysterious aspect, and the +cannel-coal fire seemed to give forth a special quality of unearthly +light. + +"Is to-morrow Christmas?" Uncle Tom would exclaim. "Bless me! Honora, I +am so glad you reminded me." + +"Now, Uncle Tom, you knew it was Christmas all the time!" + +"Kiss your uncle good night, Honora, and go right to sleep, dear,"--from +Aunt Mary. + +The unconscious irony in that command of Aunt Mary's!--to go right to +sleep! Many times was a head lifted from a small pillow, straining after +the meaning of the squeaky noises that came up from below! Not Santa +Claus. Honora's belief in him had merged into a blind faith in a larger +and even more benevolent, if material providence: the kind of providence +which Mr. Meredith depicts, and which was to say to Beauchamp: "Here's +your marquise;" a particular providence which, at the proper time, gave +Uncle Tom money, and commanded, with a smile, "Buy this for Honora--she +wants it." All-sufficient reason! Soul-satisfying philosophy, to which +Honora was to cling for many years of life. It is amazing how much +can be wrung from a reluctant world by the mere belief in this kind of +providence. + +Sleep came at last, in the darkest of the hours. And still in the +dark hours a stirring, a delicious sensation preceding reason, and the +consciousness of a figure stealing about the room. Honora sat up in bed, +shivering with cold and delight. + +"Is it awake ye are, darlint, and it but four o'clock the morn!" + +"What are you doing, Cathy?" + +"Musha, it's to Mass I'm going, to ask the Mother of God to give ye many +happy Christmases the like of this, Miss Honora." And Catherine's arms +were about her. + +"Oh, it's Christmas, Cathy, isn't it? How could I have forgotten it!" + +"Now go to sleep, honey. Your aunt and uncle wouldn't like it at all at +all if ye was to make noise in the middle of the night--and it's little +better it is." + +Sleep! A despised waste of time in childhood. Catherine went to Mass, +and after an eternity, the grey December light began to sift through +the shutters, and human endurance had reached its limit. Honora, still +shivering, seized a fleecy wrapper (the handiwork of Aunt Mary) +and crept, a diminutive ghost, down the creaking stairway to the +sitting-room. A sitting-room which now was not a sitting-room, but +for to-day a place of magic. As though by a prearranged salute of the +gods,--at Honora's entrance the fire burst through the thick blanket +of fine coal which Uncle Tom had laid before going to bed, and with a +little gasp of joy that was almost pain, she paused on the threshold. +That one flash, like Pizarro's first sunrise over Peru, gilded the edge +of infinite possibilities. + +Needless to enumerate them. The whole world, as we know, was in a +conspiracy to spoil Honora. The Dwyers, the Cartwrights, the Haydens, +the Brices, the Ishams, and I know not how many others had sent their +tributes, and Honora's second cousins, the Hanburys, from the family +mansion behind the stately elms of Wayland Square--of which something +anon. A miniature mahogany desk, a prayer-book and hymnal which the +Dwyers had brought home from New York, endless volumes of a more secular +and (to Honora) entrancing nature; roller skates; skates for real ice, +when it should appear in the form of sleet on the sidewalks; a sled; +humbler gifts from Bridget, Mary Ann, and Catherine, and a wonderful +coat, with hat to match, of a certain dark green velvet. When Aunt Mary +appeared, an hour or so later, Honora was surveying her magnificence in +the glass. + +"Oh, Aunt Mary!" she cried, with her arms tightly locked around her +aunt's neck, "how lovely! Did you send all the way to New York for it?" + +"No, Honora," said her aunt, "it didn't come from New York." Aunt Mary +did not explain that this coat had been her one engrossing occupation +for six weeks, at such times when Honora was out or tucked away safely +in bed. + +Perhaps Honora's face fell a little. Aunt Mary scanned it rather +anxiously. + +"Does that cause you to like it any less, Honora?" she asked. + +"Aunt Mary!" exclaimed Honora, in a tone of reproval. And added after a +little, "I suppose Mademoiselle made it." + +"Does it make any difference who made it, Honora?" + +"Oh, no indeed, Aunt Mary. May I wear it to Cousin Eleanor's to-day?" + +"I gave it to you to wear, Honora." + +Not in Honora's memory was there a Christmas breakfast during which +Peter Erwin did not appear, bringing gifts. Peter Erwin, of whom we +caught a glimpse doing an errand for Uncle Tom in the bank. With the +complacency of the sun Honora was wont to regard this most constant of +her satellites. Her awakening powers of observation had discovered +him in bondage, and in bondage he had been ever since: for their +acquaintance had begun on the first Sunday afternoon after Honora's +arrival in St. Louis at the age of eighteen months. It will be +remembered that Honora was even then a coquette, and as she sat in her +new baby-carriage under the pear tree, flirted outrageously with Peter, +who stood on one foot from embarrassment. + +"Why, Peter," Uncle Tom had said slyly, "why don't you kiss her?" + +That kiss had been Peter's seal of service. And he became, on Sunday +afternoons, a sort of understudy for Catherine. He took an amazing +delight in wheeling Honora up and down the yard, and up and down the +sidewalk. Brunhilde or Queen Elizabeth never wielded a power more +absolute, nor had an adorer more satisfactory; and of all his remarkable +talents, none were more conspicuous than his abilities to tell a story +and to choose a present. Emancipated from the perambulator, Honora +would watch for him at the window, and toddle to the gate to meet him, a +gentleman-in-waiting whose zeal, however arduous, never flagged. + +On this particular Christmas morning, when she heard the gate slam, +Honora sprang up from the table to don her green velvet coat. Poor +Peter! As though his subjugation could be more complete! + +"It's the postman," suggested Uncle Tom, wickedly. + +"It's Peter!" cried Honora, triumphantly, from the hall as she flunk +open the door, letting in a breath of cold Christmas air out of the +sunlight. + +It was Peter, but a Peter who has changed some since perambulator +days,--just as Honora has changed some. A Peter who, instead of +fourteen, is six and twenty; a full-fledged lawyer, in the office of +that most celebrated of St. Louis practitioners, Judge Stephen Brice. +For the Peter Erwins of this world are queer creatures, and move rapidly +without appearing to the Honoras to move at all. A great many things +have happened to Peter since he had been a messenger boy in the bank. + +Needless to say, Uncle Tom had taken an interest in him. And, according +to Peter, this fact accounted for all the good fortune which had +followed. Shortly before the news came of his brother's death, Uncle Tom +had discovered that the boy who did his errands so willingly was going +to night school, and was the grandson of a gentleman who had fought with +credit in the Mexican War, and died in misfortune: the grandmother +was Peter's only living relative. Through Uncle Tom, Mr. Isham became +interested, and Judge Brice. There was a certain scholarship in the +Washington University which Peter obtained, and he worked his way +through the law school afterwards. + +A simple story, of which many a duplicate could be found in this country +of ours. In the course of the dozen years or so of its unravelling the +grandmother had died, and Peter had become, to all intents and purposes, +a member of Uncle Tom's family. A place was set for him at Sunday +dinner; and, if he did not appear, at Sunday tea. Sometimes at both. And +here he was, as usual, on Christmas morning, his arms so full that he +had had to push open the gate with his foot. + +"Well, well, well, well!" he said, stopping short on the doorstep and +surveying our velvet-clad princess, "I've come to the wrong house." + +The princess stuck her finger into her cheek. + +"Don't be silly, Peter!" she said; "and Merry Christmas!" + +"Merry Christmas!" he replied, edging sidewise in at the door and +depositing his parcels on the mahogany horsehair sofa. He chose one, and +seized the princess--velvet coat and all!--in his arms and kissed her. +When he released her, there remained in her hand a morocco-bound diary, +marked with her monogram, and destined to contain high matters. + +"How could you know what I wanted, Peter?" she exclaimed, after she had +divested it of the tissue paper, holly, and red ribbon in which he had +so carefully wrapped it. For it is a royal trait to thank with the same +graciousness and warmth the donors of the humblest and the greatest +offerings. + +There was a paper-knife for Uncle Tom, and a workbasket for Aunt Mary, +and a dress apiece for Catherine, Bridget, and Mary Ann, none of whom +Peter ever forgot. Although the smoke was even at that period beginning +to creep westward, the sun poured through the lace curtains into the +little dining-room and danced on the silver coffeepot as Aunt Mary +poured out Peter's cup, and the blue china breakfast plates were bluer +than ever because it was Christmas. The humblest of familiar articles +took on the air of a present. And after breakfast, while Aunt Mary +occupied herself with that immemorial institution,--which was to +lure hitherwards so many prominent citizens of St. Louis during the +day,--eggnogg, Peter surveyed the offerings which transformed the +sitting-room. The table had been pushed back against the bookcases, +the chairs knew not their time-honoured places, and white paper and red +ribbon littered the floor. Uncle Tom, relegated to a corner, pretended +to read his newspaper, while Honora flitted from Peter's knees to +his, or sat cross-legged on the hearth-rug investigating a bottomless +stocking. + +"What in the world are we going to do with all these things?" said +Peter. + +"We?" cried Honora. + +"When we get married, I mean," said Peter, smiling at Uncle Tom. "Let's +see!" and he began counting on his fingers, which were long but very +strong--so strong that Honora could never loosen even one of them when +they gripped her. "One--two--three--eight Christmases before you are +twenty-one. We'll have enough things to set us up in housekeeping. Or +perhaps you'd rather get married when you are eighteen?" + +"I've always told you I wasn't going to marry you, Peter," said Honora, +with decision. + +"Why by not?" He always asked that question. + +Honora sighed. + +"I'll make a good husband," said Peter; "I'll promise. Ugly men are +always good husbands." + +"I didn't say you were ugly," declared the ever considerate Honora. + +"Only my nose is too big," he quoted; "and I am too long one way and not +wide enough." + +"You have a certain air of distinction in spite of it," said Honora. + +Uncle Tom's newspaper began to shake, and he read more industriously +than ever. + +"You've been reading--novels!" said Peter, in a terrible judicial voice. + +Honora flushed guiltily, and resumed her inspection of the stocking. +Miss Rossiter, a maiden lady of somewhat romantic tendencies, was +librarian of the Book Club that year. And as a result a book called +"Harold's Quest," by an author who shall be nameless, had come to the +house. And it was Harold who had had "a certain air of distinction." + +"It isn't very kind of you to make fun of me when I pay you a +compliment," replied Honora, with dignity. + +"I was naturally put out," he declared gravely, "because you said you +wouldn't marry me. But I don't intend to give up. No man who is worth +his salt ever gives up." + +"You are old enough to get married now," said Honora, still considerate. + +"But I am not rich enough," said Peter; "and besides, I want you." + +One of the first entries in the morocco diary--which had a lock and key +to it--was a description of Honora's future husband. We cannot violate +the lock, nor steal the key from under her pillow. But this much, alas, +may be said with discretion, that he bore no resemblance to Peter Erwin. +It may be guessed, however, that he contained something of Harold, and +more of Randolph Leffingwell; and that he did not live in St. Louis. + +An event of Christmas, after church, was the dinner of which Uncle Tom +and Aunt Mary and Honora partook with Cousin Eleanor Hanbury, who had +been a Leffingwell, and was a first cousin of Honora's father. Honora +loved the atmosphere of the massive, yellow stone house in Wayland +Square, with its tall polished mahogany doors and thick carpets, with +its deferential darky servants, some of whom had been the slaves of her +great uncle. To Honora, gifted with imagination, the house had an odour +all its own; a rich, clean odour significant, in later life, of wealth +and luxury and spotless housekeeping. And she knew it from top to +bottom. The spacious upper floor, which in ordinary dwellings would have +been an attic, was the realm of young George and his sisters, Edith and +Mary (Aunt Mary's namesake). Rainy Saturdays, all too brief, Honora had +passed there, when the big dolls' house in the playroom became the scene +of domestic dramas which Edith rehearsed after she went to bed, although +Mary took them more calmly. In his tenderer years, Honora even fired +George, and riots occurred which took the combined efforts of Cousin +Eleanor and Mammy Lucy to quell. It may be remarked, in passing, that +Cousin Eleanor looked with suspicion upon this imaginative gift of +Honora's, and had several serious conversations with Aunt Mary on the +subject. + +It was true, in a measure, that Honora quickened to life everything she +touched, and her arrival in Wayland Square was invariably greeted +with shouts of joy. There was no doll on which she had not bestowed a +history, and by dint of her insistence their pasts clung to them with +all the reality of a fate not by any means to be lived down. If George +rode the huge rocking-horse, he was Paul Revere, or some equally +historic figure, and sometimes, to Edith's terror, he was compelled to +assume the role of Bluebeard, when Honora submitted to decapitation with +a fortitude amounting to stoicism. Hide and seek was altogether too tame +for her, a stake of life and death, or imprisonment or treasure, being +a necessity. And many times was Edith extracted from the recesses of the +cellar in a condition bordering on hysterics, the day ending tamely with +a Bible story or a selection from "Little Women" read by Cousin Eleanor. + +In autumn, and again in spring and early summer before the annual +departure of the Hanbury family for the sea, the pleasant yard with its +wide shade trees and its shrubbery was a land of enchantment threatened +by a genie. Black Bias, the family coachman, polishing the fat carriage +horses in the stable yard, was the genie; and George the intrepid knight +who, spurred by Honora, would dash in and pinch Bias in a part of his +anatomy which the honest darky had never seen. An ideal genie, for he +could assume an astonishing fierceness at will. + +"I'll git you yit, Marse George!" + +Had it not been for Honora, her cousins would have found the paradise in +which they lived a commonplace spot, and indeed they never could +realize its tremendous possibilities in her absence. What would the +Mediterranean Sea and its adjoining countries be to us unless the +wanderings of Ulysses and AEneas had made them real? And what would +Cousin Eleanor's yard have been without Honora? Whatever there was of +romance and folklore in Uncle Tom's library Honora had extracted at an +early age, and with astonishing ease had avoided that which was dry and +uninteresting. The result was a nomenclature for Aunt Eleanor's yard, in +which there was even a terra incognita wherefrom venturesome travellers +never returned, but were transformed into wild beasts or monkeys. + +Although they acknowledged her leadership, Edith and Mary were sorry for +Honora, for they knew that if her father had lived she would have had a +house and garden like theirs, only larger, and beside a blue sea where +it was warm always. Honora had told them so, and colour was lent to her +assertions by the fact that their mother, when they repeated this to +her, only smiled sadly, and brushed her eyes with her handkerchief. She +was even more beautiful when she did so, Edith told her,--a remark which +caused Mrs. Hanbury to scan her younger daughter closely; it smacked of +Honora. + +"Was Cousin Randolph handsome?" Edith demanded. Mrs. Hanbury started, so +vividly there arose before her eyes a brave and dashing figure, clad in +grey English cloth, walking by her side on a sunny autumn morning in the +Rue de la Paix. Well she remembered that trip abroad with her mother, +Randolph's aunt, and how attentive he was, and showed them the best +restaurants in which to dine. He had only been in France a short time, +but his knowledge of restaurants and the world in general had been +amazing, and his acquaintances legion. He had a way, which there was no +resisting, of taking people by storm. + +"Yes, dear," answered Mrs. Hanbury, absently, when the child repeated +the question, "he was very handsome." + +"Honora says he would have been President," put in George. "Of course +I don't believe it. She said they lived in a palace by the sea in the +south of France, with gardens and fountains and a lot of things like +that, and princesses and princes and eunuchs--" + +"And what!" exclaimed Mrs. Hanbury, aghast. + +"I know," said George, contemptuously, "she got that out of the Arabian +Nights." But this suspicion did not prevent him, the next time Honora +regaled them with more adventures of the palace by the summer seas, +from listening with a rapt attention. No two tales were ever alike. His +admiration for Honora did not wane, but increased. It differed from that +of his sisters, however, in being a tribute to her creative faculties, +while Edith's breathless faith pictured her cousin as having passed +through as many adventures as Queen Esther. George paid her a +characteristic compliment, but chivalrously drew her aside to bestow it. +He was not one to mince matters. + +"You're a wonder, Honora," he said. "If I could lie like that, I +wouldn't want a pony." + +He was forced to draw back a little from the heat of the conflagration +he had kindled. + +"George Hanbury," she cried, "don't you ever speak to me again! Never! +Do you understand?" + +It was thus that George, at some cost, had made a considerable discovery +which, for the moment, shook even his scepticism. Honora believed it all +herself. + +Cousin Eleanor Hanbury was a person, or personage, who took a deep +and abiding interest in her fellow-beings, and the old clothes of the +Hanbury family went unerringly to the needy whose figures most +resembled those of the original owners. For Mrs. Hanbury had a wide but +comparatively unknown charity list. She was, secretly, one of the many +providence which Honora accepted collectively, although it is by no +means certain whether Honora, at this period, would have thanked her +cousin for tuition at Miss Farmer's school, and for her daily tasks at +French and music concerning which Aunt Mary was so particular. On the +memorable Christmas morning when, arrayed in green velvet, she arrived +with her aunt and uncle for dinner in Wayland Square, Cousin Eleanor +drew Aunt Mary into her bedroom and shut the door, and handed her a +sealed envelope. Without opening it, but guessing with much accuracy its +contents, Aunt Mary handed it back. + +"You are doing too much, Eleanor," she said. + +Mrs. Hanbury was likewise a direct person. + +"I will, take it back on one condition, Mary. If you will tell me that +Tom has finished paying Randolph's debts." + +Mrs. Leffingwell was silent. + +"I thought not," said Mrs. Hanbury. "Now Randolph was my own cousin, and +I insist." + +Aunt Mary turned over the envelope, and there followed a few moments' +silence, broken only by the distant clamour of tin horns and other +musical instruments of the season. + +"I sometimes think, Mary, that Honora is a little like Randolph, +and-Mrs. Randolph. Of course, I did not know her." + +"Neither did I," said Aunt Mary. + +"Mary," said Mrs. Hanbury, again, "I realize how you worked to make the +child that velvet coat. Do you think you ought to dress her that way?" + +"I don't see why she shouldn't be as well dressed as the children of my +friends, Eleanor." + +Mrs. Hanbury laid her hand impulsively on Aunt Mary's. + +"No child I know of dresses half as well," said Mrs. Hanbury. "The +trouble you take--" + +"Is rewarded," said Aunt Mary. + +"Yes," Mrs. Hanbury agreed. "If my own daughters were half as good +looking, I should be content. And Honora has an air of race. Oh, Mary, +can't you see? I am only thinking of the child's future." + +"Do you expect me to take down all my mirrors, Eleanor? If she has good +looks," said Aunt Mary, "she has not learned it from my lips." + +It was true: Even Aunt Mary's enemies, and she had some, could not +accuse her of the weakness of flattery. So Mrs. Hanbury smiled, and +dropped the subject. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. OF TEMPERAMENT + +We have the word of Mr. Cyrus Meeker that Honora did not have to learn +to dance. The art came to her naturally. Of Mr. Cyrus Meeker, whose +mustaches, at the age of five and sixty, are waxed as tight as ever, and +whose little legs to-day are as nimble as of yore. He has a memory like +Mr. Gladstone's, and can give you a social history of the city that is +well worth your time and attention. He will tell you how, for instance, +he was kicked by the august feet of Mr. George Hanbury on the occasion +of his first lesson to that distinguished young gentleman; and how, +although Mr. Meeker's shins were sore, he pleaded nobly for Mr. George, +who was sent home in the carriage by himself,--a punishment, by the way, +which Mr. George desired above all things. + +This celebrated incident occurred in the new ballroom at the top of the +new house of young Mrs. Hayden, where the meetings of the dancing class +were held weekly. Today the soot, like the ashes of Vesuvius, spouting +from ten thousand soft-coal craters, has buried that house and the whole +district fathoms deep in social obscurity. And beautiful Mrs. Hayden +what has become of her? And Lucy Hayden, that doll-like darling of the +gods? + +All this belongs, however, to another history, which may some day be +written. This one is Honora's, and must be got on with, for it is to be +a chronicle of lightning changes. Happy we if we can follow Honora, and +we must be prepared to make many friends and drop them in the process. + +Shortly after Mrs. Hayden had built that palatial house (which had a +high fence around its grounds and a driveway leading to a porte-cochere) +and had given her initial ball, the dancing class began. It was on a +blue afternoon in late November that Aunt Mary and Honora, with Cousin +Eleanor and the two girls, and George sulking in a corner of the +carriage, were driven through the gates behind Bias and the fat horses +of the Hanburys. + +Honora has a vivid remembrance of the impression the house made on +her, with its polished floors and spacious rooms filled with a new +and mysterious and altogether inspiring fashion of things. Mrs. Hayden +represented the outposts in the days of Richardson and Davenport--had +Honora but known it. This great house was all so different from anything +she (and many others in the city) had ever seen. And she stood gazing +into the drawing room, with its curtains and decorously drawn shades, in +a rapture which her aunt and cousins were far from guessing. + +"Come, Honora," said her aunt. "What's the matter, dear?" + +How could she explain to Aunt Mary that the sight of beautiful things +gave her a sort of pain--when she did not yet know it herself? There was +the massive stairway, for instance, which they ascended, softly lighted +by a great leaded window of stained glass on the first landing; and +the spacious bedrooms with their shining brass beds and lace spreads +(another innovation which Honora resolved to adopt when she married); +and at last, far above all, its deep-set windows looking out above +the trees towards the park a mile to the westward, the ballroom,--the +ballroom, with its mirrors and high chandeliers, and chairs of gilt and +blue set against the walls, all of which made no impression whatever +upon George and Mary and Edith, but gave Honora a thrill. No wonder that +she learned to dance quickly under such an inspiration! + +And how pretty Mrs. Hayden looked as she came forward to greet them and +kissed Honora! She had been Virginia Grey, and scarce had had a gown to +her back when she had married the elderly Duncan Hayden, who had built +her this house and presented her with a checkbook,--a check-book which +Virginia believed to be like the widow's cruse of oil-unfailing. Alas, +those days of picnics and balls; of dinners at that recent innovation, +the club; of theatre-parties and excursions to baseball games between +the young men in Mrs. Hayden's train (and all young men were) who played +at Harvard or Yale or Princeton; those days were too care-free to have +endured. + +"Aunt Mary," asked Honora, when they were home again in the lamplight +of the little sitting-room, "why was it that Mr. Meeker was so polite to +Cousin Eleanor, and asked her about my dancing instead of you?" + +Aunt Mary smiled. + +"Because, Honora," she said, "because I am a person of no importance in +Mr. Meeker's eyes." + +"If I were a man," cried Honora, fiercely, "I should never rest until I +had made enough money to make Mr. Meeker wriggle." + +"Honora, come here," said her aunt, gazing in troubled surprise at the +tense little figure by the mantel. "I don't know what could have put +such things into your head, my child. Money isn't everything. In times +of real trouble it cannot save one." + +"But it can save one from humiliation!" exclaimed Honora, unexpectedly. +Another sign of a peculiar precociousness, at fourteen, with which Aunt +Mary was finding herself unable to cope. "I would rather be killed than +humiliated by Mr. Meeker." + +Whereupon she flew out of the room and upstairs, where old Catherine, in +dismay, found her sobbing a little later. + +Poor Aunt Mary! Few people guessed the spirit which was bound up in her, +aching to extend its sympathy and not knowing how, save by an unswerving +and undemonstrative devotion. Her words of comfort were as few as her +silent deeds were many. + +But Honora continued to go to the dancing class, where she treated Mr. +Meeker with a hauteur that astonished him, amused Virginia Hayden, and +perplexed Cousin Eleanor. Mr. Meeker's cringing soul responded, and in +a month Honora was the leading spirit of the class, led the marches, and +was pointed out by the little dancing master as all that a lady should +be in deportment and bearing. + +This treatment, which succeeded so well in Mr. Meeker's case, Honora had +previously applied to others of his sex. Like most people with a future, +she began young. Of late, for instance, Mr. George Hanbury had shown +a tendency to regard her as his personal property; for George had a +high-handed way with him,--boys being an enigma to his mother. Even in +those days he had a bullet head and a red face and square shoulders, and +was rather undersized for his age--which was Honora's. + +Needless to say, George did not approve of the dancing class; and let it +be known, both by words and deeds, that he was there under protest. +Nor did he regard with favour Honora's triumphal progress, but sat in a +corner with several congenial spirits whose feelings ranged from scorn +to despair, commenting in loud whispers upon those of his sex to whom +the terpsichorean art came more naturally. Upon one Algernon Cartwright, +for example, whose striking likeness to the Van Dyck portrait of a young +king had been more than once commented upon by his elders, and whose +velveteen suits enhanced the resemblance. Algernon, by the way, was +the favourite male pupil of Mr. Meeker; and, on occasions, Algernon and +Honora were called upon to give exhibitions for the others, the sight of +which filled George with contemptuous rage. Algernon danced altogether +too much with Honora,--so George informed his cousin. + +The simple result of George's protests was to make Honora dance with +Algernon the more, evincing, even at this period of her career, a +commendable determination to resent dictation. George should have lived +in the Middle Ages, when the spirit of modern American womanhood was as +yet unborn. Once he contrived, by main force, to drag her out into the +hall. + +"George," she said, "perhaps, if you'd let me alone perhaps I'd like you +better." + +"Perhaps," he retorted fiercely, "if you wouldn't make a fool of +yourself with those mother's darlings, I'd like you better." + +"George," said Honora, "learn to dance." + +"Never!" he cried, but she was gone. While hovering around the door he +heard Mrs. Hayden's voice. + +"Unless I am tremendously mistaken, my dear," that lady was remarking +to Mrs. Dwyer, whose daughter Emily's future millions were powerless to +compel youths of fourteen to dance with her, although she is now happily +married, "unless I am mistaken, Honora will have a career. The child +will be a raving beauty. And she has to perfection the art of managing +men." + +"As her father had the art of managing women," said Mrs. Dwyer. "Dear +me, how well I remember Randolph! I would have followed him to--to +Cheyenne." + +Mrs. Hayden laughed. "He never would have gone to Cheyenne, I imagine," +she said. + +"He never looked at me, and I have reason to be profoundly thankful for +it," said Mrs. Dwyer. + +Virginia Hayden bit her lip. She remembered a saying of Mrs. Brice, +"Blessed are the ugly, for they shall not be tempted." + +"They say that poor Tom Leffingwell has not yet finished paying his +debts," continued Mrs. Dwyer, "although his uncle, Eleanor Hanbury's +father, cancelled what Randolph had had from him in his will. It was +twenty-five thousand dollars. James Hanbury, you remember, had him +appointed consul at Nice. Randolph Leffingwell gave the impression of +conferring a favour when he borrowed money. I cannot understand why he +married that penniless and empty-headed beauty." + +"Perhaps," said Mrs. Hayden, "it was because of his ability to borrow +money that he felt he could afford to." + +The eyes of the two ladies unconsciously followed Honora about the room. + +"I never knew a better or a more honest woman than Mary Leffingwell, but +I tremble for her. She is utterly incapable of managing that child. If +Honora is a complicated mechanism now, what will she be at twenty? She +has elements in her which poor Mary never dreamed of. I overheard her +with Emily, and she talks like a grown-up person." + +Mrs. Hayden's dimples deepened. + +"Better than some grown-up women," she said. "She sat in my room while +I dressed the other afternoon. Mrs. Leffingwell had sent her with a +note about that French governess. And, by the way, she speaks French as +though she had lived in Paris." + +Little Mrs. Dwyer raised her hands in protest. + +"It doesn't seem natural, somehow. It doesn't seem exactly--moral, my +dear." + +"Nonsense," said Mrs. Hayden. "Mrs. Leffingwell is only giving the child +the advantages which her companions have--Emily has French, hasn't she?" + +"But Emily can't speak it--that way," said Mrs. Dwyer. "I don't blame +Mary Leffingwell. She thinks she is doing her duty, but it has always +seemed to me that Honora was one of those children who would better have +been brought up on bread and butter and jam." + +"Honora would only have eaten the jam," said Mrs. Hayden. "But I love +her." + +"I, too, am fond of the child, but I tremble for her. I am afraid she +has that terrible thing which is called temperament." + +George Hanbury made a second heroic rush, and dragged Honora out once +more. + +"What is this disease you've got?" he demanded. + +"Disease?" she cried; "I haven't any disease." + +"Mrs Dwyer says you have temperament, and that it is a terrible thing." + +Honora stopped him in a corner. + +"Because people like Mrs. Dwyer haven't got it," she declared, with a +warmth which George found inexplicable. + +"What is it?" he demanded. + +"You'll never know, either, George," she answered; "it's soul." + +"Soul!" he repeated; "I have one, and its immortal," he added promptly. + +In the summer, that season of desolation for Honora, when George Hanbury +and Algernon Cartwright and other young gentlemen were at the seashore +learning to sail boats and to play tennis, Peter Erwin came to his own. +Nearly every evening after dinner, while the light was still lingering +under the shade trees of the street, and Aunt Mary still placidly +sewing in the wicker chair on the lawn, and Uncle Tom making the tour +of flowers with his watering pot, the gate would slam, and Peter's tall +form appear. + +It never occurred to Honora that had it not been for Peter those +evenings would have been even less bearable than they were. To sit +indoors with a light and read in a St. Louis midsummer was not to be +thought of. Peter played backgammon with her on the front steps, and +later on--chess. Sometimes they went for a walk as far as Grand Avenue. +And sometimes when Honora grew older--she was permitted to go with him +to Uhrig's Cave. Those were memorable occasions indeed! + +What Saint Louisan of the last generation does not remember Uhrig's +Cave? nor look without regret upon the thing which has replaced it, +called a Coliseum? The very name, Uhrig's Cave, sent a shiver of delight +down one's spine, and many were the conjectures one made as to what +might be enclosed in that half a block of impassible brick wall, over +which the great trees stretched their branches. Honora, from comparative +infancy, had her own theory, which so possessed the mind of Edith +Hanbury that she would not look at the wall when they passed in the +carriage. It was a still and sombre place by day; and sometimes, if you +listened, you could hear the whisperings of the forty thieves on the +other side of the wall. But no one had ever dared to cry "Open, Sesame!" +at the great wooden gates. + +At night, in the warm season, when well brought up children were at home +or at the seashore, strange things were said to happen at Uhrig's Cave. + +Honora was a tall slip of a girl of sixteen before it was given her to +know these mysteries, and the Ali Baba theory a thing of the past. Other +theories had replaced it. Nevertheless she clung tightly to Peter's arm +as they walked down Locust Street and came in sight of the wall. Above +it, and under the big trees, shone a thousand glittering lights: there +was a crowd at the gate, and instead of saying, "Open, Sesame," Peter +slipped two bright fifty-cent pieces to the red-faced German ticketman, +and in they went. + +First and most astounding of disillusions of passing childhood, it was +not a cave at all! And yet the word "disillusion" does not apply. It +was, after all, the most enchanting and exciting of spots, to make one's +eye shine and one's heart beat. Under the trees were hundreds of tables +surrounded by hovering ministering angels in white, and if you were +German, they brought you beer; if American, ice-cream. Beyond the tables +was a stage, with footlights already set and orchestra tuning up, and a +curtain on which was represented a gentleman making decorous love to a +lady beside a fountain. As in a dream, Honora followed Peter to a table, +and he handed her a programme. + +"Oh, Peter," she cried, "it's going to be 'Pinafore'!" + +Honora's eyes shone like stars, and elderly people at the neighbouring +tables turned more than once to smile at her that evening. And Peter +turned more than once and smiled too. But Honora did not consider Peter. +He was merely Providence in one of many disguises, and Providence is +accepted by his beneficiaries as a matter of fact. + +The rapture of a young lady of temperament is a difficult thing to +picture. The bird may feel it as he soars, on a bright August morning, +high above amber cliffs jutting out into indigo seas; the novelist may +feel it when the four walls of his room magically disappear and +the profound secrets of the universe are on the point of revealing +themselves. Honora gazed, and listened, and lost herself. She was no +longer in Uhrig's Cave, but in the great world, her soul a-quiver with +harmonies. + +"Pinafore," although a comic opera, held something tragic for Honora, +and opened the flood-gates to dizzy sensations which she did not +understand. How little Peter, who drummed on the table to the tune of: + + "Give three cheers and one cheer more + For the hearty captain of the Pinafore," + +imagined what was going on beside him! There were two factors in his +pleasure; he liked the music, and he enjoyed the delight of Honora. + +What is Peter? Let us cease looking at him through Honora's eyes and +taking him like daily bread, to be eaten and not thought about. From +one point of view, he is twenty-nine and elderly, with a sense of humour +unsuspected by young persons of temperament. Strive as we will, we have +only been able to see him in his role of Providence, or of the piper. +Has he no existence, no purpose in life outside of that perpetual +gentleman in waiting? If so, Honora has never considered it. + +After the finale had been sung and the curtain dropped for the last +time, Honora sighed and walked out of the garden as one in a trance. +Once in a while, as he found a way for them through the crowd, Peter +glanced down at her, and something like a smile tugged at the corners +of a decidedly masculine mouth, and lit up his eyes. Suddenly, at Locust +Street, under the lamp, she stopped and surveyed him. She saw a very +real, very human individual, clad in a dark nondescript suit of clothes +which had been bought ready-made, and plainly without the bestowal of +much thought, on Fifth Street. The fact that they were a comparative +fit was in itself a tribute to the enterprise of the Excelsior Clothing +Company, for Honora's observation that he was too long one way had +been just. He was too tall, his shoulders were too high, his nose too +prominent, his eyes too deep-set; and he wore a straw hat with the brim +turned up. + +To Honora his appearance was as familiar as the picture of the Pope +which had always stood on Catherine's bureau. But to-night, by grace of +some added power of vision, she saw him with new and critical eyes. She +was surprised to discover that he was possessed of a quality with +which she had never associated him--youth. Not to put it too +strongly--comparative youth. + +"Peter," she demanded, "why do you dress like that?" + +"Like what?" he said. + +Honora seized the lapel of his coat. + +"Like that," she repeated. "Do you know, if you wore different clothes, +you might almost be distinguished looking. Don't laugh. I think it's +horrid of you always to laugh when I tell you things for your own good." + +"It was the idea of being almost distinguished looking that--that gave +me a shock," he assured her repentantly. + +"You should dress on a different principle," she insisted. + +Peter appeared dazed. + +"I couldn't do that," he said. + +"Why not?" + +"Because--because I don't dress on any principle now." + +"Yes, you do," said Honora, firmly. "You dress on the principle of +the wild beasts and fishes. It's all in our natural history at Miss +Farmer's. The crab is the colour of the seaweed, and the deer of the +thicket. It's a device of nature for the protection of weak things." + +Peter drew himself up proudly. + +"I have always understood, Miss Leffingwell, that the king of beasts was +somewhere near the shade of the jungle." + +Honora laughed in spite of this apparent refutation of her theory of his +apparel, and shook her head. + +"Do be serious, Peter. You'd make much more of an impression on people +if you wore clothes that had--well, a little more distinction." + +"What's the use of making an impression if you can't follow it up?" he +said. + +"You can," she declared. "I never thought of it until to-night, but you +must have a great deal in you to have risen all the way from an errand +boy in the bank to a lawyer." + +"Look out!" he cautioned her; "I shall become insupportably conceited." + +"A little more conceit wouldn't hurt you," said Honora, critically. +"You'll forgive me, Peter, if I tell you from time to time what I think. +It's for your own good." + +"I try to realize that," replied Peter, humbly. "How do you wish me to +dress--like Mr. Rossiter?" + +The picture evoked of Peter arrayed like Mr. Harland Rossiter, who had +sent flowers to two generations and was preparing to send more to a +third, was irresistible. Every city, hamlet, and village has its Harland +Rossiter. He need not be explained. But Honora soon became grave again. + +"No, but you ought to dress as though you were somebody, and different +from the ordinary man on the street." + +"But I'm not," objected Peter. + +"Oh," cried Honora, "don't you want to be? I can't understand any man +not wanting to be. If I were a man, I wouldn't stay here a day longer +than I had to." + +Peter was silent as they went in at the gate and opened the door, for on +this festive occasion they were provided with a latchkey. He turned up +the light in the hall to behold a transformation quite as wonderful as +any contained in the "Arabian Nights" or Keightley's "Fairy Mythology." +This was not the Honora with whom he had left the house scarce three +hours before! The cambric dress, to be sure, was still no longer than +the tops of her ankles and the hair still hung in a heavy braid down her +back. These were positively all that remained of the original Honora, +and the change had occurred in the incredibly brief space required for +the production of the opera "Pinafore." This Honora was a woman in a +strange and disturbing state of exaltation, whose eyes beheld a vision. +And Peter, although he had been the subject of her conversation, well +knew that he was not included in the vision. He smiled a little as +he looked at her. It is becoming apparent that he is one of those +unfortunate unimaginative beings incapable of great illusions. + +"You're not going!" she exclaimed. + +He glanced significantly at the hall clock. + +"Why, it's long after bedtime, Honora." + +"I don't want to go to bed. I feel like talking," she declared. "Come, +let's sit on the steps awhile. If you go home, I shan't go to sleep for +hours, Peter." + +"And what would Aunt Mary say to me?" he inquired. + +"Oh, she wouldn't care. She wouldn't even know it." + +He shook his head, still smiling. + +"I'd never be allowed to take you to Uhrig's Cave, or anywhere else, +again," he replied. "I'll come to-morrow evening, and you can talk to me +then." + +"I shan't feel like it then," she said in a tone that implied his +opportunity was now or never. But seeing him still obdurate, with +startling suddenness she flung her arms mound his neck--a method which +at times had succeeded marvellously--and pleaded coaxingly: "Only a +quarter of an hour, Peter. I've got so many things to say, and I know I +shall forget them by to-morrow." + +It was a night of wonders. To her astonishment the hitherto pliant +Peter, who only existed in order to do her will, became transformed +into a brusque masculine creature which she did not recognize. With a +movement that was almost rough he released himself and fled, calling +back a "good night" to her out of the darkness. He did not even wait +to assist her in the process of locking up. Honora, profoundly puzzled, +stood for a while in the doorway gazing out into the night. When at +length she turned, she had forgotten him entirely. + +It was true that she did not sleep for hours, and on awaking the next +morning another phenomenon awaited her. The "little house under the +hill" was immeasurably shrunken. Poor Aunt Mary, who did not understand +that a performance of "Pinafore" could give birth to the unfulfilled +longings which result in the creation of high things, spoke to Uncle Tom +a week later concerning an astonishing and apparently abnormal access of +industry. + +"She's been reading all day long, Tom, or else shut up in her room, +where Catherine tells me she is writing. I'm afraid Eleanor Hanbury is +right when she says I don't understand the child. And yet she is the +same to me as though she were my own." + +It was true that Honora was writing, and that the door was shut, and +that she did not feel the heat. In one of the bookcases she had chanced +upon that immortal biography of Dr. Johnson, and upon the letters of +another prodigy of her own sex, Madame d'Arblay, whose romantic debut +as an authoress was inspiration in itself. Honora actually quivered when +she read of Dr. Johnson's first conversation with Miss Burney. To write +a book of the existence of which even one's own family did not know, to +publish it under a nom de plume, and to awake one day to fetes and fame +would be indeed to live! + +Unfortunately Honora's novel no longer exists, or the world might have +discovered a second Evelina. A regard for truth compels the statement +that it was never finished. But what rapture while the fever lasted! +Merely to take up the pen was to pass magically through marble portals +into the great world itself. + +The Sir Charles Grandison of this novel was, needless to say, not Peter +Erwin. He was none other than Mr. Randolph Leffingwell, under a very +thin disguise. + + + + +CHAPTER V. IN WHICH PROVIDENCE BEEPS FAITH + +Two more years have gone by, limping in the summer and flying in the +winter, two more years of conquests. For our heroine appears to be +one of the daughters of Helen, born to make trouble for warriors and +others--and even for innocent bystanders like Peter Erwin. Peter was +debarred from entering those brilliant lists in which apparel played +so great a part. George Hanbury, Guy Rossiter, Algernon Cartwright, +Eliphalet Hopper Dwyer--familiarly known as "Hoppy"--and other young +gentlemen whose names are now but memories, each had his brief day of +triumph. Arrayed like Solomon in wonderful clothes from the mysterious +and luxurious East, they returned at Christmas-tide and Easter from +college to break lances over Honora. Let us say it boldly--she was like +that: she had the world-old knack of sowing discord and despair in the +souls of young men. She was--as those who had known that fascinating +gentleman were not slow to remark--Randolph Leffingwell over again. + +During the festival seasons, Uncle Tom averred, they wore out the latch +on the front gate. If their families possessed horses to spare, they +took Honora driving in Forest Park; they escorted her to those anomalous +dances peculiar to their innocent age, which are neither children's +parties nor full-fledged balls; their presents, while of no intrinsic +value--as one young gentleman said in a presentation speech--had an +enormous, if shy, significance. + +"What a beautiful ring you are wearing, Honora," Uncle Tom remarked +slyly one April morning at breakfast; "let me see it." + +Honora blushed, and hid her hand under the table-cloth. + +And the ring-suffice it to say that her little finger was exactly +insertable in a ten-cent piece from which everything had been removed +but the milling: removed with infinite loving patience by Mr. Rossiter, +and at the expense of much history and philosophy and other less +important things, in his college bedroom at New Haven. Honora wore it +for a whole week; a triumph indeed for Mr. Rossiter; when it was placed +in a box in Honora's bedroom, which contained other gifts--not all from +him--and many letters, in the writing of which learning had likewise +suffered. The immediate cause of the putting away of this ring was said +to be the renowned Clinton Howe, who was on the Harvard football eleven, +and who visited Mr. George Hanbury that Easter. Fortunate indeed the +tailor who was called upon to practise his art on an Adonis like Mr. +Howe, and it was remarked that he scarcely left Honora's side at the +garden party and dance which Mrs. Dwyer gave in honour of the returning +heroes, on the Monday of Easter week. + +This festival, on which we should like to linger, but cannot, took +place at the new Dwyer residence. For six months the Victorian mansion +opposite Uncle Tom's house had been sightless, with blue blinds drawn +down inside the plate glass windows. And the yellow stone itself was +not so yellow as it once had been, but had now the appearance of soiled +manilla wrapping paper, with black streaks here and there where the soot +had run. The new Dwyer house was of grey stone, Georgian and palatial, +with a picture-gallery twice the size of the old one; a magnificent and +fitting pioneer in a new city of palaces. + +Westward the star of Empire--away from the smoke. The Dwyer mansion, +with its lawns and gardens and heavily balustraded terrace, faced the +park that stretched away like a private estate to the south and west. +That same park with its huge trees and black forests that was Ultima +Thule in Honora's childhood; in the open places there had been real +farms and hayricks which she used to slide down with Peter while Uncle +Tom looked for wild flowers in the fields. It had been separated from +the city in those days by an endless country road, like a Via Claudia +stretching towards mysterious Germanian forests, and it was deemed a +feat for Peter to ride thither on his big-wheeled bicycle. Forest +Park was the country, and all that the country represented in Honora's +childhood. For Uncle Tom on a summer's day to hire a surrey at +Braintree's Livery Stable and drive thither was like--to what shall that +bliss be compared in these days when we go to Europe with indifference? + +And now Lindell Road--the Via Claudia of long, ago--had become Lindell +Boulevard, with granitoid sidewalks. And the dreary fields through +which it had formerly run were bristling with new houses in no sense +Victorian, and which were the first stirrings of a national sense of the +artistic. The old horse-cars with the clanging chains had disappeared, +and you could take an electric to within a block of the imposing grille +that surrounded the Dwyer grounds. Westward the star! + +Fading fast was the glory of that bright new district on top of the +second hill from the river where Uncle Tom was a pioneer. Soot had +killed the pear trees, the apricots behind the lattice fence had +withered away; asphalt and soot were slowly sapping the vitality of the +maples on the sidewalk; and sometimes Uncle Tom's roses looked as though +they might advantageously be given a coat of paint, like those in Alice +in Wonderland. Honora should have lived in the Dwyers' mansion-people +who are capable of judging said so. People who saw her at the garden +party said she had the air of belonging in such surroundings much more +than Emily, whom even budding womanhood had not made beautiful. And +Eliphalet Hopper Dwyer, if his actions meant anything, would have +welcomed her to that house, or built her another twice as fine, had she +deigned to give him the least encouragement. + +Cinderella! This was what she facetiously called herself one July +morning of that summer she was eighteen. + +Cinderella in more senses than one, for never had the city seemed +more dirty or more deserted, or indeed, more stifling. Winter and its +festivities were a dream laid away in moth balls. Surely Cinderella's +life had held no greater contrasts! To this day the odour of matting +brings back to Honora the sense of closed shutters; of a stifling south +wind stirring their slats at noonday; the vision of Aunt Mary, cool and +placid in a cambric sacque, sewing by the window in the upper hall, and +the sound of fruit venders crying in the street, or of ragmen in the +alley--"Rags, bottles, old iron!" What memories of endless, burning, +lonely days come rushing back with those words! + +When the sun had sufficiently heated the bricks of the surrounding +houses in order that he might not be forgotten during the night, he +slowly departed. If Honora took her book under the maple tree in the +yard, she was confronted with that hideous wooden sign "To Let" on the +Dwyer's iron fence opposite, and the grass behind it was unkempt and +overgrown with weeds. Aunt Mary took an unceasing and (to Honora's mind) +morbid interest in the future of that house. + +"I suppose it will be a boarding-house," she would say, "it's much too +large for poor people to rent, and only poor people are coming into this +district now." + +"Oh, Aunt Mary!" + +"Well, my dear, why should we complain? We are poor, and it is +appropriate that we should live among the poor. Sometimes I think it is +a pity that you should have been thrown all your life with rich people, +my child. I am afraid it has made you discontented. It is no disgrace to +be poor. We ought to be thankful that we have everything we need." + +Honora put down her sewing. For she had learned to sew--Aunt Mary +had insisted upon that, as well as French. She laid her hand upon her +aunt's. + +"I am thankful," she said, and her aunt little guessed the intensity of +the emotion she was seeking to control, or imagined the hidden +fires. "But sometimes--sometimes I try to forget that we are poor. +Perhaps--some day we shall not be." + +It seemed to Honora that Aunt Mary derived a real pleasure from the +contradiction of this hope. She shook her head vigorously. + +"We shall always be, my child. Your Uncle Tom is getting old, and he has +always been too honest to make a great deal of money. And besides," she +added, "he has not that kind of ability." + +Uncle Tom might be getting old, but he seemed to Honora to be of the +same age as in her childhood. Some people never grow old, and Uncle Tom +was one of these. Fifteen years before he had been promoted to be the +cashier of the Prairie Bank, and he was the cashier to-day. He had the +same quiet smile, the same quiet humour, the same calm acceptance of +life. He seemed to bear no grudge even against that ever advancing +enemy, the soot, which made it increasingly difficult for him to raise +his flowers. Those which would still grow he washed tenderly night and +morning with his watering-pot. The greatest wonders are not at the ends +of the earth, but near us. It was to take many years for our heroine to +realize this. + +Strong faith alone could have withstood the continued contact with such +a determined fatalism as Aunt Mary's, and yet it is interesting to note +that Honora's belief in her providence never wavered. A prince was to +come who was to bear her away from the ragmen and the boarding-houses +and the soot: and incidentally and in spite of herself, Aunt Mary was +to come too, and Uncle Tom. And sometimes when she sat reading of an +evening under the maple, her book would fall to her lap and the advent +of this personage become so real a thing that she bounded when the gate +slammed--to find that it was only Peter. + +It was preposterous, of course, that Peter should be a prince in +disguise. Peter who, despite her efforts to teach him distinction in +dress, insisted upon wearing the same kind of clothes. A mild kind of +providence, Peter, whose modest functions were not unlike those of the +third horse which used to be hitched on to the street car at the foot +of the Seventeenth-Street hill: it was Peter's task to help pull Honora +through the interminable summers. Uhrig's Cave was an old story now: +mysteries were no longer to be expected in St. Louis. There was a great +panorama--or something to that effect--in the wilderness at the end of +one of the new electric lines, where they sometimes went to behold the +White Squadron of the new United States Navy engaged in battle with +mimic forts on a mimic sea, on the very site where the country place +of Madame Clement had been. The mimic sea, surrounded by wooden stands +filled with common people eating peanuts and popcorn, was none other +than Madame Clement's pond, which Honora remembered as a spot of +enchantment. And they went out in the open cars with these same people, +who stared at Honora as though she had got in by mistake, but always +politely gave her a seat. And Peter thanked them. Sometimes he fell into +conversations with them, and it was noticeable that they nearly +always shook hands with him at parting. Honora did not approve of this +familiarity. + +"But they may be clients some day," he argued--a frivolous answer to +which she never deigned to reply. + +Just as one used to take for granted that third horse which pulled the +car uphill, so Peter was taken for granted. He might have been on the +highroad to a renown like that of Chief Justice Marshall, and Honora had +been none the wiser. + +"Well, Peter," said Uncle Tom at dinner one evening of that memorable +summer, when Aunt Mary was helping the blackberries, and incidentally +deploring that she did not live in the country, because of the cream one +got there, "I saw Judge Brice in the bank to-day, and he tells me you +covered yourself with glory in that iron foundry suit." + +"The Judge must have his little joke, Mr. Leffingwell," replied Peter, +but he reddened nevertheless. + +Honora thought winning an iron foundry suit a strange way to cover one's +self with glory. It was not, at any rate, her idea of glory. What were +lawyers for, if not to win suits? And Peter was a lawyer. + +"In five years," said Uncle Tom, "the firm will be 'Brice and Erwin'. +You mark my words. And by that time," he added, with a twinkle in his +eye, "you'll be ready to marry Honora." + +"Tom," reproved Aunt Mary, gently, "you oughtn't to say such things." + +This time there was no doubt about Peter's blush. He fairly burned. +Honora looked at him and laughed. + +"Peter is meant for an old bachelor," she said. + +"If he remains a bachelor," said Uncle Tom, "he'll be the greatest waste +of good material I know of. And if you succeed in getting him, Honora, +you'll be the luckiest young woman of my acquaintance." + +"Tom," said Aunt Mary, "it was all very well to talk that way when +Honora was a child. But now--she may not wish to marry Peter. And Peter +may not wish to marry her." + +Even Peter joined in the laughter at this literal and characteristic +statement of the case. + +"It's more than likely," said Honora, wickedly. "He hasn't kissed me for +two years." + +"Why, Peter," said Uncle Tom, "you act as though it were warm to-night. +It was only seventy when we came in to dinner." + +"Take me out to the park," commanded Honora. + +"Tom," said Aunt Mary, as she stood on the step and watched them cross +the street, "I wish the child would marry him. Not now, of course," she +added hastily,--a little frightened by her own admission, "but later. +Sometimes I worry over her future. She needs a strong and sensible man. +I don't understand Honora. I never did. I always told you so. Sometimes +I think she may be capable of doing something foolish like--like +Randolph." + +Uncle Tom patted his wife on the shoulder. + +"Don't borrow trouble, Mary," he said, smiling a little. "The child is +only full of spirits. But she has a good heart. It is only human that +she should want things that we cannot give her." + +"I wish," said Aunt Mary, "that she were not quite so good-looking." + +Uncle Tom laughed. "You needn't tell me you're not proud of it," he +declared. + +"And I have given her," she continued, "a taste for dress." + +"I think, my dear," said her husband, "that there were others who +contributed to that." + +"It was my own vanity. I should have combated the tendency in her," said +Aunt Mary. + +"If you had dressed Honora in calico, you could not have changed her," +replied Uncle Tom, with conviction. + +In the meantime Honora and Peter had mounted the electric car, and were +speeding westward. They had a seat to themselves, the very first one +on the "grip"--that survival of the days of cable cars. Honora's eyes +brightened as she held on to her hat, and the stray wisps of hair about +her neck stirred in the breeze. + +"Oh, I wish we would never stop, until we came to the Pacific Ocean!" +she exclaimed. + +"Would you be content to stop then?" he asked. He had a trick of looking +downward with a quizzical expression in his dark grey eyes. + +"No," said Honora. "I should want to go on and see everything in the +world worth seeing. Sometimes I feel positively as though I should die +if I had to stay here in St. Louis." + +"You probably would die--eventually," said Peter. + +Honora was justifiably irritated. + +"I could shake you, Peter!" + +He laughed. + +"I'm afraid it wouldn't do any good," he answered. + +"If I were a man," she proclaimed, "I shouldn't stay here. I'd go to New +York--I'd be somebody--I'd make a national reputation for myself." + +"I believe you would," said Peter sadly, but with a glance of +admiration. + +"That's the worst of being a woman--we have to sit still until something +happens to us." + +"What would you like to happen?" he asked, curiously. And there was a +note in his voice which she, intent upon her thoughts, did not remark. + +"Oh, I don't know," she said; "anything--anything to get out of this rut +and be something in the world. It's dreadful to feel that one has power +and not be able to use it." + +The car stopped at the terminal. Thanks to the early hour of Aunt Mary's +dinner, the western sky was still aglow with the sunset over the forests +as they walked past the closed grille of the Dwyer mansion into the +park. Children rolled on the grass, while mothers and fathers, tired +out from the heat and labour of a city day, sat on the benches. Peter +stooped down and lifted a small boy, painfully thin, who had fallen, +weeping, on the gravel walk. He took his handkerchief and wiped the +scratch on the child's forehead. + +"There, there!" he said, smiling, "it's all right now. We must expect a +few tumbles." + +The child looked at him, and suddenly smiled through his tears. + +The father appeared, a red-headed Irishman. + +"Thank you, Mr. Erwin; I'm sure it's very kind of you, sir, to bother +with him," he said gratefully. "It's that thin he is with the heat, I +take him out for a bit of country air." + +"Why, Tim, it's you, is it?" said Peter. "He's the janitor of our +building down town," he explained to Honora, who had remained a silent +witness to this simple scene. She had been, in spite of herself, +impressed by it, and by the mingled respect and affection in the +janitor's manner towards Peter. It was so with every one to whom he +spoke. They walked on in silence for a few moments, into a path leading +to a lake, which had stolen the flaming green-gold of the sky. + +"I suppose," said Honora, slowly, "it would be better for me to wish to +be contented where I am, as you are. But it's no use trying, I can't." + +Peter was not a preacher. + +"Oh," he said, "there are lots of things I want." + +"What?" demanded Honora, interested. For she had never conceived of him +as having any desires whatever. + +"I want a house like Mr. Dwyer's," he declared, pointing at the distant +imposing roof line against the fading eastern sky. + +Honora laughed. The idea of Peter wishing such a house was indeed +ridiculous. Then she became grave again. + +"There are times when you seem to forget that I have at last grown up, +Peter. You never will talk over serious things with me." + +"What are serious things?" asked Peter. + +"Well," said Honora vaguely, "ambitions, and what one is going to make +of themselves in life. And then you make fun of me by saying you want +Mr. Dwyer's house." She laughed again. "I can't imagine you in that +house!" + +"Why not?" he asked, stopping beside the pond and thrusting his hands +in his pockets. He looked very solemn, but she knew he was smiling +inwardly. + +"Why--because I can't," she said, and hesitated. The question had forced +her to think about Peter. "I can't imagine you living all alone in all +that luxury. It isn't like you." + +"Why I all alone?" asked Peter. + +"Don't--Don't be ridiculous," she said; "you wouldn't build a house +like that, even if you were twice as rich as Mr. Dwyer. You know +you wouldn't. And you're not the marrying kind," she added, with the +superior knowledge of eighteen. + +"I'm waiting for you, Honora," he announced. + +"You know I love you, Peter,"--so she tempered her reply, for Honora's +feelings were tender. What man, even Peter, would not have married her +if he could? Of course he was in earnest, despite his bantering tone, +"but I never could--marry you." + +"Not even if I were to offer you a house like Mr. Dwyer's?" he said. +A remark which betrayed--although not to her--his knowledge of certain +earthly strains in his goddess. + +The colours faded from the water, and it blackened. + +As they walked on side by side in the twilight, a consciousness of +repressed masculine force, of reserve power, which she had never before +felt about Peter Erwin, invaded her; and she was seized with a strange +uneasiness. Ridiculous was the thought (which she lost no time in +rejecting) that pointed out the true road to happiness in marrying such +a man as he. In the gathering darkness she slipped her hand through his +arm. + +"I wish I could marry you, Peter," she said. + +He was fain to take what comfort he could from this expression of +good-will. If he was not the Prince Charming of her dreams, she would +have liked him to be. A little reflection on his part ought to have +shown him the absurdity of the Prince Charming having been there all the +time, and in ready-made clothes. And he, too, may have had dreams. We +are not concerned with them. + + ............................ + +If we listen to the still, small voice of realism, intense longing is +always followed by disappointment. Nothing should have happened that +summer, and Providence should not have come disguised as the postman. +It was a sultry day in early September-which is to say that it was +comparatively cool--a blue day, with occasional great drops of rain +spattering on the brick walk. And Honora was reclining on the hall +sofa, reading about Mr. Ibbetson and his duchess, when she perceived the +postman's grey uniform and smiling face on the far side of the screen +door. He greeted her cordially, and gave her a single letter for Aunt +Mary, and she carried it unsuspectingly upstairs. + +"It's from Cousin Eleanor," Honora volunteered. + +Aunt Mary laid down her sewing, smoothed the ruffles of her sacque, +adjusted her spectacles, opened the envelope, and began to read. +Presently the letter fell to her lap, and she wiped her glasses and +glanced at Honora, who was deep in her book once more. And in Honora's +brain, as she read, was ringing the refrain of the prisoner: + + "Orleans, Beaugency! + Notre Dame de Clery! + Vendome! Vendome! + Quel chagrin, quel ennui + De compter toute la nuit + Les heures, les heures!". + +The verse appealed to Honora strangely; just as it had appealed to +Ibbetson. Was she not, too, a prisoner. And how often, during the summer +days and nights, had she listened to the chimes of the Pilgrim Church +near by? + + "One, two, three, four! + One, two, three, four!" + +After Uncle Tom had watered his flowers that evening, Aunt Mary followed +him upstairs and locked the door of their room behind her. Silently she +put the letter in his hand. Here is one paragraph of it: + + "I have never asked to take the child from you in the summer, + because she has always been in perfect health, and I know how lonely + you would have been without her, my dear Mary. But it seems to me + that a winter at Sutcliffe, with my girls, would do her a world of + good just now. I need not point out to you that Honora is, to say + the least, remarkably good looking, and that she has developed very + rapidly. And she has, in spite of the strict training you have + given her, certain ideas and ambitions which seem to me, I am sorry + to say, more or less prevalent among young American women these + days. You know it is only because I love her that I am so frank. + Miss Turner's influence will, in my opinion, do much to counteract + these tendencies." + +Uncle Tom folded the letter, and handed it back to his wife. + +"I feel that we ought not to refuse, Tom. And I am afraid Eleanor is +right." + +"Well, Mary, we've had her for seventeen years. We ought to be willing +to spare her for--how many months?" + +"Nine," said Aunt Mary, promptly. She had counted them. "And Eleanor +says she will be home for two weeks at Christmas. Seventeen years! It +seems only yesterday when we brought her home, Tom. It was just about +this time of day, and she was asleep in your arms, and Bridget opened +the door for us." Aunt Mary looked out of the window. "And do you +remember how she used to play under the maple there, with her dolls?" + +Uncle Tom produced a very large handkerchief, and blew his nose. + +"There, there, Mary," he said, "nine months, and two weeks out at +Christmas. Nine months in eighteen years." + +"I suppose we ought to be very thankful," said Aunt Mary. "But, Tom, the +time is coming soon--" + +"Tut tut," exclaimed Uncle Tom. He turned, and his eyes beheld a work of +art. Nothing less than a porcelain plate, hung in brackets on the wall, +decorated by Honora at the age of ten with wild roses, and presented +with much ceremony on an anniversary morning. He pretended not to notice +it, but Aunt Mary's eyes were too quick. She seized a photograph on her +bureau, a photograph of Honora in a little white frock with a red sash. + +"It was the year that was taken, Tom." + +He nodded. The scene at the breakfast table came back to him, and the +sight of Catherine standing respectfully in the hall, and of Honora, in +the red sash, making the courtesy the old woman had taught her. + +Honora recalled afterwards that Uncle Tom joked even more than usual +that evening at dinner. But it was Aunt Mary who asked her, at length, +how she would like to go to boarding-school. Such was the matter-of-fact +manner in which the portentous news was announced. + +"To boarding-school, Aunt Mary?" + +Her aunt poured out her uncle's after-dinner coffee. + +"I've spilled some, my dear. Get another saucer for your uncle." + +Honora went mechanically to the china closet, her heart thumping. She +did not stop to reflect that it was the rarest of occurrences for Aunt +Mary to spill the coffee. + +"Your Cousin Eleanor has invited you to go this winter with Edith and +Mary to Sutcliffe." + +Sutcliffe! No need to tell Honora what Sutcliffe was--her cousins had +talked of little else during the past winter; and shown, if the truth be +told, just a little commiseration for Honora. Sutcliffe was not only a +famous girls' school, Sutcliffe was the world--that world which, since +her earliest remembrances, she had been longing to see and know. In a +desperate attempt to realize what had happened to her, she found herself +staring hard at the open china closet, at Aunt Mary's best gold dinner +set resting on the pink lace paper that had been changed only last week. +That dinner set, somehow, was always an augury of festival--when, on +the rare occasions Aunt Mary entertained, the little dining room was +transformed by it and the Leffingwell silver into a glorified and +altogether unrecognizable state, in which any miracle seemed possible. + +Honora pushed back her chair. + +Her lips were parted. + +"Oh, Aunt Mary, is it really true that I am going?" she said. + +"Why," said Uncle Tom, "what zeal for learning!" + +"My dear," said Aunt Mary, who, you may be sure, knew all about that +school before Cousin Eleanor's letter came, "Miss Turner insists upon +hard work, and the discipline is very strict." + +"No young men," added Uncle Tom. + +"That," declared Aunt Mary, "is certainly an advantage." + +"And no chocolate cake, and bed at ten o'clock," said Uncle Tom. + +Honora, dazed, only half heard them. She laughed at Uncle Tom because +she always had, but tears were shining in her eyes. Young men and +chocolate cake! What were these privations compared to that magic word +Change? Suddenly she rose, and flung her arms about Uncle Tom's neck +and kissed his rough cheek, and then embraced Aunt Mary. They would be +lonely. + +"Aunt Mary, I can't bear to leave you--but I do so want to go! And it +won't be for long--will it? Only until next spring." + +"Until next summer, I believe," replied Aunt Mary, gently; "June is a +summer month-isn't it, Tom?" + +"It will be a summer month without question next year," answered Uncle +Tom, enigmatically. + +It has been remarked that that day was sultry, and a fine rain was now +washing Uncle Tom's flowers for him. It was he who had applied that term +"washing" since the era of ultra-soot. Incredible as it may seem, life +proceeded as on any other of a thousand rainy nights. The lamps +were lighted in the sitting-room, Uncle Tom unfolded his gardening +periodical, and Aunt Mary her embroidery. The gate slammed, with its +more subdued, rainy-weather sound. + +"It's Peter," said Honora, flying downstairs. And she caught him, +astonished, as he was folding his umbrella on the step. "Oh, Peter, +if you tried until to-morrow morning, you never could guess what has +happened." + +He stood for a moment, motionless, staring at her, a tall figure, +careless of the rain. + +"You are going away," he said. + +"How did you guess it?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Yes--to +boarding-school. To Sutcliffe, on the Hudson, with Edith and Mary. +Aren't you glad? You look as though you had seen a ghost." + +"Do I?" said Peter. + +"Don't stand there in the rain," commanded Honora; "come into the +parlour, and I'll tell you all about it." + +He came in. She took the umbrella from him, and put it in the rack. + +"Why don't you congratulate me?" she demanded. + +"You'll never come back," said Peter. + +"What a horrid thing to say! Of course I shall come back. I shall come +back next June, and you'll be at the station to meet me." + +"And--what will Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary do--without you?" + +"Oh," said Honora, "I shall miss them dreadfully. And I shall miss you, +Peter." + +"Very much?" he asked, looking down at her with such a queer expression. +And his voice, too, sounded queer. He was trying to smile. + +Suddenly Honora realized that he was suffering, and she felt the pangs +of contrition. She could not remember the time when she had been away +from Peter, and it was natural that he should be stricken at the news. +Peter, who was the complement of all who loved and served her, of Aunt +Mary and Uncle Tom and Catherine, and who somehow embodied them all. +Peter, the eternally dependable. + +She found it natural that the light should be temporarily removed from +his firmament while she should be at boarding-school, and yet in the +tenderness of her heart she pitied him. She put her hands impulsively +upon his shoulders as he stood looking at her with that queer expression +which he believed to be a smile. + +"Peter, you dear old thing, indeed I shall miss you! I don't know what I +shall do without you, and I'll write to you every single week." + +Gently he disengaged her arms. They were standing under that which, for +courtesy's sake, had always been called the chandelier. It was in the +centre of the parlour, and Uncle Tom always covered it with holly and +mistletoe at Christmas. + +"Why do you say I'll never come back?" asked Honora. "Of course I shall +come back, and live here all the rest of my life." + +Peter shook his head slowly. He had recovered something of his customary +quizzical manner. + +"The East is a strange country," he said. "The first thing we know +you'll be marrying one of those people we read about, with more millions +than there are cars on the Olive Street line." + +Honora was a little indignant. + +"I wish you wouldn't talk so, Peter," she said. "In the first place, I +shan't see any but girls at Sutcliffe. I could only see you for a few +minutes once a week if you were there. And in the second place, it isn't +exactly--Well--dignified to compare the East and the West the way you +do, and speak about people who are very rich and live there as though +they were different from the people we know here. Comparisons, as +Shakespeare said, are odorous." + +"Honora," he declared, still shaking his head, "you're a fraud, but I +can't help loving you." + +For a long time that night Honora lay in bed staring into the darkness, +and trying to realize what had happened. She heard the whistling and the +puffing of the trains in the cinder-covered valley to the southward, but +the quality of these sounds had changed. They were music now. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. HONORA HAS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD + +It is simply impossible to give any adequate notion of the industry of +the days that followed. No sooner was Uncle Tom out of the house in the +morning than Anne Rory marched into the sitting-room and took command, +and turned it, into a dressmaking establishment. Anne Rory, who deserves +more than a passing mention, one of the institutions of Honora's youth, +who sewed for the first families, and knew much more about them than Mr. +Meeker, the dancing-master. If you enjoyed her confidence,--as Aunt +Mary did,--she would tell you of her own accord who gave their servants +enough to eat, and who didn't. Anne Rory was a sort of inquisition +all by herself, and would have made a valuable chief of police. The +reputations of certain elderly gentlemen of wealth might have remained +to this day intact had it not been for her; she had a heaven-sent knack +of discovering peccadilloes. Anne Rory knew the gentlemen by sight, and +the gentlemen did not know Anne Rory. Uncle Tom she held to be somewhere +in the calendar of the saints. + +There is not time, alas, to linger over Anne Rory or the new histories +which she whispered to Aunt Mary when Honora was out of the room. At +last the eventful day of departure arrived. Honora's new trunk--her +first--was packed by Aunt Mary's own hands, the dainty clothes and the +dresses folded in tissue paper, while old Catherine stood sniffing by. +After dinner--sign of a great occasion--a carriage came from Braintree's +Livery Stable, and Uncle Tom held the horses while the driver carried +out the trunk and strapped it on. Catherine, Mary Ann, and Bridget, all +weeping, were kissed good-by, and off they went through the dusk to the +station. Not the old Union Depot, with its wooden sheds, where Honora +had gone so often to see the Hanburys off, that grimy gateway to the +fairer regions of the earth. This new station, of brick and stone and +glass and tiles, would hold an army corps with ease. And when they +alighted at the carriage entrance, a tall figure came forward out of the +shadow. It was Peter, and he had a package under his arm. Peter +checked Honora's trunk, and Peter had got the permission--through Judge +Brice--which enabled them all to pass through the grille and down the +long walk beside which the train was standing. + +They entered that hitherto mysterious conveyance, a sleeping-car, +and spoke to old Mrs. Stanley, who was going East to see her married +daughter, and who had gladly agreed to take charge of Honora. Afterwards +they stood on the platform, but in spite of the valiant efforts of Uncle +Tom and Peter, conversation was a mockery. + +"Honora," said Aunt Mary, "don't forget that your trunk key is in the +little pocket on the left side of your bag." + +"No, Aunt Mary." + +"And your little New Testament at the bottom. And your lunch is arranged +in three packages. And don't forget to ask Cousin Eleanor about the +walking shoes, and to give her my note." + +Cries reverberated under the great glass dome, and trains pulled out +with deafening roars. Honora had a strange feeling, as of pressure from +within, that caused her to take deep breaths of the smoky air. She but +half heard what was being said to her: she wished that the train would +go, and at the same time she had a sudden, surprising, and fierce +longing to stay. She had been able to eat scarcely a mouthful of that +festal dinner which Bridget had spent the afternoon in preparing, +comprised wholly of forbidden dishes of her childhood, for which Bridget +and Aunt Mary were justly famed. Such is the irony of life. Visions +of one of Aunt Mary's rare lunch-parties and of a small girl peeping +covetously through a crack in the dining-room door, and of the gold +china set, rose before her. But she could not eat. + +"Bread and jam and tea at Miss Turner's," Uncle Tom had said, and she +had tried to smile at him. + +And now they were standing on the platform, and the train might start at +any moment. + +"I trust you won't get like the New Yorkers, Honora," said Aunt Mary. +"Do you remember how stiff they were, Tom?" She was still in the habit +of referring to that memorable trip when they had brought Honora home. +"And they say now that they hold their heads higher than ever." + +"That," said Uncle Tom, gravely, "is a local disease, and comes from +staring at the tall buildings." + +"Uncle Tom!" + +Peter presented the parcel under his arm. It was a box of candy, and +very heavy, on which much thought had been spent. + +"They are some of the things you like," he said, when he had returned +from putting it in the berth. + +"How good of you, Peter! I shall never be able to eat all that." + +"I hope there is a doctor on the train," said Uncle Tom. + +"Yassah," answered the black porter, who had been listening with evident +relish, "right good doctah--Doctah Lov'ring." + +Even Aunt Mary laughed. + +"Peter," asked Honora, "can't you get Judge Brice to send you on to New +York this winter on law business? Then you could come up to Sutcliffe to +see me." + +"I'm afraid of Miss Turner," declared Peter. + +"Oh, she wouldn't mind you," exclaimed Honora. "I could say you were an +uncle. It would be almost true. And perhaps she would let you take me +down to New York for a matinee." + +"And how about my ready-made clothes?" he said, looking down at her. He +had never forgotten that. + +Honora laughed. + +"You don't seem a bit sorry that I'm going," she replied, a little +breathlessly. "You know I'd be glad to see you, if you were in rags." + +"All aboard!" cried the porter, grinning sympathetically. + +Honora threw her arms around Aunt Mary and clung to her. How small and +frail she was! Somehow Honora had never realized it in all her life +before. + +"Good-by, darling, and remember to put on your thick clothes on the cool +days, and write when you get to New York." + +Then it was Uncle Tom's turn. He gave her his usual vigorous hug and +kiss. + +"It won't be long until Christmas," he whispered, and was gone, helping +Aunt Mary off the train, which had begun to move. + +Peter remained a moment. + +"Good-by, Honora. I'll write to you often and let you know how they are. +And perhaps--you'll send me a letter once in a while." + +"Oh, Peter, I will," she cried. "I can't bear to leave you--I didn't +think it would be so hard--" + +He held out his hand, but she ignored it. Before he realized what had +happened to him she had drawn his face to hers, kissed it, and was +pushing him off the train. Then she watched from the platform the three +receding figures in the yellow smoky light until the car slipped +out from under the roof into the blackness of the night. Some faint, +premonitory divination of what they represented of immutable love in a +changing, heedless, selfish world came to her; rocks to which one might +cling, successful or failing, happy or unhappy. For unconsciously she +thought of them, all three, as one, a human trinity in which her faith +had never been betrayed. She felt a warm moisture on her cheeks, and +realized that she was crying with the first real sorrow of her life. + +She was leaving them--for what? Honora did not know. There had been +nothing imperative in Cousin Eleanor's letter. She need not have gone +if she had not wished. Something within herself, she felt, was impelling +her. And it is curious to relate that, in her mind, going to school had +little or nothing to do with her journey. She had the feeling of faring +forth into the world, and she had known all along that it was destined +she should. What was the cause of this longing to break the fetters and +fly away? fetters of love, they seemed to her now--and were. And the +world which she had seen afar, filled with sunlit palaces, seemed very +dark and dreary to her to-night. + +"The lady's asking for you, Miss," said the porter. + +She made a heroic attempt to talk to Mrs. Stanley. But at the sight +of Peter's candy, when she opened it, she was blinded once more. Dear +Peter! That box was eloquent with the care with which he had studied +her slightest desires and caprices. Marrons glaces, and Langtrys, and +certain chocolates which had received the stamp of her approval--and she +could not so much as eat one! The porter made the berths. And there had +been a time when she had asked nothing more of fate than to travel in a +sleeping-car! Far into the night she lay wide awake, dry-eyed, watching +the lamp-lit streets of the little towns they passed, or staring at the +cornfields and pastures in the darkness; thinking of the home she had +left, perhaps forever, and wondering whether they were sleeping there; +picturing them to-morrow at breakfast without her, and Uncle Tom leaving +for the bank, Aunt Mary going through the silent rooms alone, and +dear old Catherine haunting the little chamber where she had slept for +seventeen years--almost her lifetime. A hundred vivid scenes of her +childhood came back, and familiar objects oddly intruded themselves; the +red and green lambrequin on the parlour mantel--a present many years ago +from Cousin Eleanor; the what-not, with its funny curly legs, and the +bare spot near the lock on the door of the cake closet in the dining +room! + +Youth, however, has its recuperative powers. The next day the excitement +of the journey held her, the sight of new cities and a new countryside. +But when she tried to eat the lunch Aunt Mary had so carefully put +up, new memories assailed her, and she went with Mrs. Stanley into the +dining car. The September dusk was made lurid by belching steel-furnaces +that reddened the heavens; and later, when she went to bed, sharp air +and towering contours told her of the mountains. Mountains which her +great-grandfather had crossed on horse back, with that very family +silver in his saddle-bags which shone on Aunt Mary's table. And +then--she awoke with the light shining in her face, and barely had time +to dress before the conductor was calling out "Jersey City." + +Once more the morning, and with it new and wonderful sensations that +dispelled her sorrows; the ferry, the olive-green river rolling in the +morning sun, alive with dodging, hurrying craft, each bent upon its +destination with an energy, relentlessness, and selfishness of purpose +that fascinated Honora. Each, with its shrill, protesting whistle, +seemed to say: "My business is the most important. Make way for me." And +yet, through them all, towering, stately, imperturbable, a great ocean +steamer glided slowly towards the bay, by very might and majesty holding +her way serene and undisturbed, on a nobler errand. Honora thrilled as +she gazed, as though at last her dream were coming true, and she felt +within her the pulse of the world's artery. That irksome sense of +spectatorship seemed to fly, and she was part and parcel now of the +great, moving things, with sure pinions with which to soar. Standing +rapt upon the forward deck of the ferry, she saw herself, not an atom, +but one whose going and coming was a thing of consequence. It seemed +but a simple step to the deck of that steamer when she, too, would be +travelling to the other side of the world, and the journey one of the +small incidents of life. + +The ferry bumped into its slip, the windlasses sang loudly as they took +up the chains, the gates folded back, and Honora was forced with the +crowd along the bridge-like passage to the right. Suddenly she saw +Cousin Eleanor and the girls awaiting her. + +"Honora," said Edith, when the greetings were over and they were all +four in the carriage, which was making its way slowly across the dirty +and irregularly paved open space to a narrow street that opened between +two saloons, "Honora, you don't mean to say that Anne Rory made that +street dress? Mother, I believe it's better-looking than the one I got +at Bremer's." + +"It's very simple,", said Honora. + +"And she looks fairly radiant," cried Edith, seizing her cousin's hand. +"It's quite wonderful, Honora; nobody would ever guess that you were +from the West, and that you had spent the whole summer in St. Louis." + +Cousin Eleanor smiled a little as she contemplated Honora, who sat, +fascinated, gazing out of the window at novel scenes. There was a +colour in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. They had reached Madison +Square. Madison Square, on a bright morning in late September, seen for +the first time by an ambitious young lady who had never been out of +St. Louis! The trimly appointed vehicles, the high-stepping horses, the +glittering shops, the well-dressed women and well-groomed men--all had +an esprit de corps which she found inspiring. On such a morning, +and amidst such a scene, she felt that there was no limit to the +possibilities of life. + +Until this year, Cousin Eleanor had been a conservative in the matter of +hotels, when she had yielded to Edith's entreaties to go to one of the +"new ones." Hotels, indeed, that revolutionized transient existence. +This one, on the Avenue, had a giant in a long blue livery coat who +opened their carriage door, and a hall in yellow and black onyx, and +maids and valets. After breakfast, when Honora sat down to write to Aunt +Mary, she described the suite of rooms in which they lived,--the brass +beds, the electric night lamps, the mahogany French furniture, the +heavy carpets, and even the white-tiled bathroom. There was a marvellous +arrangement in the walls with which Edith was never tired of playing, +a circular plate covered with legends of every conceivable want, from a +newspaper to a needle and thread and a Scotch whiskey highball. + +At breakfast, more stimulants--of a mental nature, of course. Solomon in +all his glory had never broken eggs in such a dining room. It had onyx +pillars, too, and gilt furniture, and table after table of the whitest +napery stretched from one end of it to the other. The glass and silver +was all of a special pattern, and an obsequious waiter handed Honora +a menu in a silver frame, with a handle. One side of the menu was in +English, and the other in French. All around them were well-dressed, +well-fed, prosperous-looking people, talking and laughing in subdued +tones as they ate. And Honora had a strange feeling of being one +of them, of being as rich and prosperous as they, of coming into a +long-deferred inheritance. + +The mad excitement of that day in New York is a faint memory now, so +much has Honora lived since then. We descendants of rigid Puritans, of +pioneer tobacco-planters and frontiersmen, take naturally to a luxury +such as the world has never seen--as our right. We have abolished kings, +in order that as many of us as possible may abide in palaces. In one day +Honora forgot the seventeen years spent in the "little house under the +hill," as though these had never been. Cousin Eleanor, with a delightful +sense of wrong-doing, yielded to the temptation to adorn her; and the +saleswomen, who knew Mrs. Hanbury, made indiscreet-remarks. Such a +figure and such a face, and just enough of height! Two new gowns were +ordered, to be tried on at Sutcliffe, and as many hats, and an ulster, +and heaven knows what else. Memory fails. + +In the evening they went to a new comic opera, and it is the music of +that which brings back the day most vividly to Honora's mind. + +In the morning they took an early train to Sutcliffe Manors, on the +Hudson. It is an historic place. First of all, after leaving the +station, you climb through the little town clinging to the hillside; and +Honora was struck by the quaint houses and shops which had been places +of barter before the Revolution. The age of things appealed to her. It +was a brilliant day at the very end of September, the air sharp, and +here and there a creeper had been struck crimson. Beyond the town, on +the slopes, were other new sights to stimulate the imagination: country +houses--not merely houses in the country, but mansions--enticingly +hidden among great trees in a way to whet Honora's curiosity as she +pictured to herself the blissful quality of the life which their owners +must lead. Long, curving driveways led up to the houses from occasional +lodges; and once, as though to complete the impression, a young man +and two women, superbly mounted, came trotting out of one of these +driveways, talking and laughing gayly. Honora took a good look at the +man. He was not handsome, but had, in fact, a distinguished and haunting +ugliness. The girls were straight-featured and conventional to the last +degree. + +Presently they came to the avenue of elms that led up to the long, low +buildings of the school. + +Little more will be necessary, in the brief account of Honora's life at +boarding-school, than to add an humble word of praise on the excellence +of Miss Turner's establishment. That lady, needless to say, did not +advertise in the magazines, or issue a prospectus. Parents were more +or less in the situation of the candidates who desired the honour and +privilege of whitewashing Tom Sawyer's fence. If you were a parent, +and were allowed to confide your daughter to Miss Turner, instead of +demanding a prospectus, you gave thanks to heaven, and spoke about it to +your friends. + +The life of the young ladies, of course, was regulated on the strictest +principles. Early rising, prayers, breakfast, studies; the daily walk, +rain or shine, under the watchful convoy of Miss Hood, the girls in +columns of twos; tennis on the school court, or skating on the school +pond. Cotton Mather himself could not have disapproved of the Sundays, +nor of the discourse of the elderly Doctor Moale (which you heard if you +were not a Presbyterian), although the reverend gentleman was distinctly +Anglican in appearance and manners. Sometimes Honora felt devout, and +would follow the service with the utmost attention. Her religion came +in waves. On the Sundays when the heathen prevailed she studied the +congregation, grew to distinguish the local country families; and, if +the truth must be told, watched for several Sundays for that ugly +yet handsome young man whom she had seen on horseback. But he never +appeared, and presently she forgot him. + +Had there been a prospectus (which is ridiculous!), the great secret of +Miss Turner's school could not very well have been mentioned in it. The +English language, it is to be feared, is not quite flexible enough to +mention this secret with delicacy. Did Honora know it? Who can say? +Self-respecting young ladies do not talk about such things, and Honora +was nothing if not self-respecting. + + "SUTCLIFFE MANORS, October 15th. + + "DEAREST AUNT MARY: As I wrote you, I continue to miss you and Uncle + Tom dreadfully,--and dear old Peter, too; and Cathy and Bridget and + Mary Ann. And I hate to get up at seven o'clock. And Miss Hood, + who takes us out walking and teaches us composition, is such a + ridiculously strict old maid--you would laugh at her. And the + Sundays are terrible. Miss Turner makes us read the Bible for a + whole hour in the afternoon, and reads to us in the evening. And + Uncle Tom was right when he said we should have nothing but jam and + bread and butter for supper: oh, yes, and cold meat. I am always + ravenously hungry. I count the days until Christmas, when I shall + have some really good things to eat again. And of course I cannot + wait to see you all. + + "I do not mean to give you the impression that I am not happy here, + and I never can be thankful enough to dear Cousin Eleanor for + sending me. Some of the girls are most attractive. Among others, + I have become great friends with Ethel Wing, who is tall and blond + and good-looking; and her clothes, though simple, are beautiful. + To hear her imitate Miss Turner or Miss Hood or Dr. Moale is almost + as much fun as going to the theatre. You must have heard of her + father--he is the Mr. Wing who owns all the railroads and other + things, and they have a house in Newport and another in New York, + and a country place and a yacht. + + "I like Sarah Wycliffe very much. She was brought up abroad, and we + lead the French class together. Her father has a house in Paris, + which they only use for a month or so in the year: an hotel, as the + French call it. And then there is Maude Capron, from Philadelphia, + whose father is Secretary of War. I have now to go to my class in + English composition, but I will write to you again on Saturday. + + "Your loving niece, + + "HONORA." + +The Christmas holidays came, and went by like mileposts from the window +of an express train. There was a Glee Club: there were dances, +and private theatricals in Mrs. Dwyer's new house, in which it was +imperative that Honora should take part. There was no such thing as +getting up for breakfast, and once she did not see Uncle Tom for +two whole days. He asked her where she was staying. It was the first +Christmas she remembered spending without Peter. His present appeared, +but perhaps it was fortunate, on the whole, that he was in Texas, trying +a case. It seemed almost no time at all before she was at the station +again, clinging to Aunt Mary: but now the separation was not so hard, +and she had Edith and Mary for company, and George, a dignified and +responsible sophomore at Harvard. + +Owing to the sudden withdrawal from school of little Louise Simpson, the +Cincinnati girl who had shared her room during the first term, Honora +had a new room-mate after the holidays, Susan Holt. Susan was not +beautiful, but she was good. Her nose turned up, her hair Honora +described as a negative colour, and she wore it in defiance of all +prevailing modes. If you looked very hard at Susan (which few people +ever did), you saw that she had remarkable blue eyes: they were the eyes +of a saint. She was neither tall nor short, and her complexion was not +all that it might have been. In brief, Susan was one of those girls +who go through a whole term at boarding--school without any particular +notice from the more brilliant Honoras and Ethel Wings. + +In some respects, Susan was an ideal room-mate. She read the Bible every +night and morning, and she wrote many letters home. Her ruling passion, +next to religion, was order, and she took it upon herself to arrange +Honora's bureau drawers. It is needless to say that Honora accepted +these ministrations and that she found Susan's admiration an entirely +natural sentiment. Susan was self-effacing, and she enjoyed listening to +Honora's views on all topics. + +Susan, like Peter, was taken for granted. She came from somewhere, and +after school was over, she would go somewhere. She lived in New York, +Honora knew, and beyond that was not curious. We never know when we are +entertaining an angel unawares. One evening, early in May, when she went +up to prepare for supper she found Susan sitting in the window reading +a letter, and on the floor beside her was a photograph. Honora picked +it up. It was the picture of a large country house with many chimneys, +taken across a wide green lawn. + +"Susan, what's this?" + +Susan looked up. + +"Oh, it's Silverdale. My brother Joshua took it." + +"Silverdale?" repeated Honora. + +"It's our place in the country," Susan replied. "The family moved up +last week. You see, the trees are just beginning to bud." + +Honora was silent a moment, gazing at the picture. + +"It's very beautiful, isn't it? You never told me about it." + +"Didn't I?" said Susan. "I think of it very often. It has always seemed +much more like home to me than our house in New York, and I love it +better than any spot I know." + +Honora gazed at Susan, who had resumed her reading. + +"And you are going there when school is over." + +"Oh, yes," said Susan; "I can hardly wait." Suddenly she put down her +letter, and looked at Honora. + +"And you," she asked, "where are you going?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps--perhaps I shall go to the sea for a while with +my cousins." + +It was foolish, it was wrong. But for the life of her Honora could not +say she was going to spend the long hot summer in St. Louis. The thought +of it had haunted her for weeks: and sometimes, when the other girls +were discussing their plans, she had left them abruptly. And now she was +aware that Susan's blue eyes were fixed upon her, and that they had a +strange and penetrating quality she had never noticed before: a certain +tenderness, an understanding that made Honora redden and turn. + +"I wish," said Susan, slowly, "that you would come and stay awhile with +me. Your home is so far away, and I don't know when I shall see you +again." + +"Oh, Susan," she murmured, "it's awfully good of you, but I'm afraid--I +couldn't." + +She walked to the window, and stood looking out for a moment at the +budding trees. Her heart was beating faster, and she was strangely +uncomfortable. + +"I really don't expect to go to the sea, Susan," she said. "You see, +my aunt and uncle are all alone in St. Louis, and I ought to go back to +them. If--if my father had lived, it might have been different. He died, +and my mother, when I was little more than a year old." + +Susan was all sympathy. She slipped her hand into Honora's. + +"Where did he live?" she asked. + +"Abroad," answered Honora. "He was consul at Nice, and had a villa +there when he died. And people said he had an unusually brilliant +career before him. My aunt and uncle brought me up, and my cousin, Mrs. +Hanbury, Edith's mother, and Mary's, sent me here to school." + +Honora breathed easier after this confession, but it was long before +sleep came to her that night. She wondered what it would be like to +visit at a great country house such as Silverdale, what it would be like +to live in one. It seemed a strange and cruel piece of irony on the part +of the fates that Susan, instead of Honora, should have been chosen +for such a life: Susan, who would have been quite as happy spending her +summers in St. Louis, and taking excursions in the electric cars: Susan, +who had never experienced that dreadful, vacuum-like feeling, who had no +ambitious craving to be satisfied. Mingled with her flushes of affection +for Susan was a certain queer feeling of contempt, of which Honora was +ashamed. + +Nevertheless, in the days that followed, a certain metamorphosis +seemed to have taken place in Susan. She was still the same modest, +self-effacing, helpful roommate, but in Honora's eyes she had +changed--Honora could no longer separate her image from the vision +of Silverdale. And, if the naked truth must be told, it was due to +Silverdale that Susan owes the honour of her first mention in those +descriptive letters from Sutcliffe, which Aunt Mary has kept to this +day. + +Four days later Susan had a letter from her mother containing an +astonishing discovery. There could be no mistake,--Mrs. Holt had brought +Honora to this country as a baby. + +"Why, Susan," cried Honora, "you must have been the other baby." + +"But you were the beautiful one," replied Susan, generously. "I have +often heard mother tell about it, and how every one on the ship noticed +you, and how Hortense cried when your aunt and uncle took you away. And +to think we have been rooming together all these months and did not know +that we were really--old friends. + +"And Honora, mother says you must come to Silverdale to pay us a +visit when school closes. She wants to see you. I think," added Susan, +smiling, "I think she feels responsible, for you. She says that you must +give me your aunts address, and that she will write to her." + +"Oh, I'd so like to go, Susan. And I don't think Aunt Mary would +object---for a little while." + +Honora lost no time in writing the letter asking for permission, and +it was not until after she had posted it that she felt a sudden, sharp +regret as she thought of them in their loneliness. But the postponement +of her homecoming would only be for a fortnight at best. And she had +seen so little! + +In due time Aunt Mary's letter arrived. There was no mention of +loneliness in it, only of joy that Honora was to have the opportunity to +visit such a place as Silverdale. Aunt Mary, it seems, had seen pictures +of it long ago in a magazine of the book club, in an article concerning +one of Mrs. Holt's charities--a model home for indiscreet young women. +At the end of the year, Aunt Mary added, she had bought the number of +the magazine, because of her natural interest in Mrs. Holt on Honora's +account. Honora cried a little over that letter, but her determination +to go to Silverdale was unshaken. + +June came at last, and the end of school. The subject of Miss Turner's +annual talk was worldliness. Miss Turner saw signs, she regretted to +say, of a lowering in the ideals of American women: of a restlessness, +of a desire for what was a false consideration and recognition; for +power. Some of her own pupils, alas! were not free from this fault. +Ethel Wing, who was next to Honora, nudged her and laughed, and passed +her some of Maillard's chocolates, which she had in her pocket. Woman's +place, continued Miss Turner, was the home, and she hoped they would +all make good wives. She had done her best to prepare them to be +such. Independence, they would find, was only relative: no one had it +completely. And she hoped that none of her scholars would ever descend +to that base competition to outdo one's neighbours, so characteristic of +the country to-day. + +The friends, and even the enemies, were kissed good-by, with pledges of +eternal friendship. Cousin Eleanor Hanbury came for Edith and Mary, and +hoped Honora would enjoy herself at Silverdale. Dear Cousin Eleanor! +Her heart was large, and her charity unpretentious. She slipped into +Honora's fingers, as she embraced her, a silver-purse with some gold +coins in it, and bade her not to forget to write home very often. + +"You know what pleasure it will give them, my dear," she said, as she +stepped on the train for New York. + +"And I am going home soon, Cousin Eleanor," replied Honora, with a +little touch of homesickness in her voice. + +"I know, dear," said Mrs. Hanbury. But there was a peculiar, almost +wistful expression on her face as she kissed Honora again, as of one who +assents to a fiction in order to humour a child. + +As the train pulled out, Ethel Wing waved to her from the midst of a +group of girls on the wide rear platform of the last car. It was Mr. +Wing's private car, and was going to Newport. + +"Be good, Honora!" she cried. + + + + +Volume 2. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE OLYMPIAN ORDER + +Lying back in the chair of the Pullman and gazing over the wide Hudson +shining in the afternoon sun, Honora's imagination ran riot until the +seeming possibilities of life became infinite. At every click of the +rails she was drawing nearer to that great world of which she had +dreamed, a world of country houses inhabited by an Olympian order. To be +sure, Susan, who sat reading in the chair behind her, was but a humble +representative of that order--but Providence sometimes makes use of such +instruments. The picture of the tall and brilliant Ethel Wing standing +behind the brass rail of the platform of the car was continually +recurring to Honora as emblematic: of Ethel, in a blue tailor-made +gown trimmed with buff braid, and which fitted her slender figure with +military exactness. Her hair, the colour of the yellowest of gold, in +the manner of its finish seemed somehow to give the impression of that +metal; and the militant effect of the costume had been heightened by +a small colonial cocked hat. If the truth be told, Honora had secretly +idealized Miss Wing, and had found her insouciance, frankness, and +tendency to ridicule delightful. Militant--that was indeed Ethel's +note--militant and positive. + +"You're not going home with Susan!" she had exclaimed, making a little +face when Honora had told her. "They say that Silverdale is as slow as +a nunnery--and you're on your knees all the time. You ought to have come +to Newport with me." + +It was characteristic of Miss Wing that she seemed to have taken no +account of the fact that she had neglected to issue this alluring +invitation. Life at Silverdale slow! How could it be slow amidst such +beauty and magnificence? + +The train was stopping at a new little station on which hung the legend, +in gold letters, "Sutton." The sun was well on his journey towards the +western hills. Susan had touched her on the shoulder. + +"Here we are, Honora," she said, and added, with an unusual tremor in +her voice, "at last!" + +On the far side of the platform a yellow, two-seated wagon was waiting, +and away they drove through the village, with its old houses and its +sleepy streets and its orchards, and its ancient tavern dating from +stage-coach days. Just outside of it, on the tree-dotted slope of a long +hill, was a modern brick building, exceedingly practical in appearance, +surrounded by spacious grounds enclosed in a paling fence. That, Susan +said, was the Sutton Home. + +"Your mother's charity?" + +A light came into the girl's eyes. + +"So you have heard of it? Yes, it is the thing that interests mother +more than anything else in the world." + +"Oh," said Honora, "I hope she will let me go through it." + +"I'm sure she will want to take you there to-morrow," answered Susan, +and she smiled. + +The road wound upwards, by the valley of a brook, through the hills, now +wooded, now spread with pastures that shone golden green in the evening +light, the herds gathering at the gate-bars. Presently they came to a +gothic-looking stone building, with a mediaeval bridge thrown across +the stream in front of it, and massive gates flung open. As they passed, +Honora had a glimpse of a blue driveway under the arch of the forest. +An elderly woman looked out at them through the open half of a leaded +lattice. + +"That's the Chamberlin estate," Susan volunteered. "Mr. Chamberlin has +built a castle on the top of that hill." + +Honora caught her breath. + +"Are many of the places here like that?" she asked. Susan laughed. + +"Some people don't think the place is very--appropriate," she contented +herself with replying. + +A little later, as they climbed higher, other houses could be discerned +dotted about the country-side, nearly all of them varied expressions +of the passion for a new architecture which seemed to possess the rich. +Most of them were in conspicuous positions, and surrounded by wide +acres. Each, to Honora, was an inspiration. + +"I had no idea there were so many people here," she said. + +"I'm afraid Sutton is becoming fashionable," answered Susan. + +"And don't you want it to?" asked Honora. + +"It was very nice before," said Susan, quietly. + +Honora was silent. They turned in between two simple stone pillars that +divided a low wall, overhung from the inside by shrubbery growing under +the forest. Susan seized her friend's hand and pressed it. + +"I'm always so glad to get back here," she whispered. "I hope you'll +like it." + +Honora returned the pressure. + +The grey road forked, and forked again. Suddenly the forest came to an +end in a sort of premeditated tangle of wild garden, and across a wide +lawn the great house loomed against the western sky. Its architecture +was of the '60's and '70's, with a wide porte-cochere that sheltered +the high entrance doors. These were both flung open, a butler and two +footmen were standing impassively beside them, and a neat maid within. +Honora climbed the steps as in a dream, followed Susan through a hall +with a black-walnut, fretted staircase, and where she caught a glimpse +of two huge Chinese vases, to a porch on the other side of the house +spread with wicker chairs and tables. Out of a group of people at the +farther end of this porch arose an elderly lady, who came forward and +clasped Susan in her arms. + +"And is this Honora? How do you do, my dear? I had the pleasure of +knowing you when you were much younger." + +Honora, too, was gathered to that ample bosom. Released, she beheld a +lady in a mauve satin gown, at the throat of which a cameo brooch +was fastened. Mrs. Holt's face left no room for conjecture as to the +character of its possessor. Her hair, of a silvering blend, parted in +the middle, fitted tightly to her head. She wore earrings. In short, her +appearance was in every way suggestive of momentum, of a force which the +wise would respect. + +"Where are you, Joshua?" she said. "This is the baby we brought from +Nice. Come and tell me whether you would recognize her." + +Mr. Holt released his--daughter. He had a mild blue eye, white +mutton-chop whiskers, and very thin hands, and his tweed suit was +decidedly the worse for wear. + +"I can't say that I should, Elvira," he replied; "although it is not +hard to believe that such a beautiful baby should, prove to be such +a--er--good-looking young woman." + +"I've always felt very grateful to you for bringing me back," said +Honora. + +"Tut, tut, child," said Mrs. Holt; "there was no one else to do it. And +be careful how you pay young women compliments, Joshua. They grow +vain enough. By the way, my dear, what ever became of your maternal +grandfather, old Mr. Allison--wasn't that his name?" + +"He died when I was very young," replied Honora. + +"He was too fond of the good things of this life," said Mrs. Holt. + +"My dear Elvira!" her husband protested. + +"I can't help it, he was," retorted that lady. "I am a judge of human +nature, and I was relieved, I can tell you, my dear" (to Honora), "when +I saw your uncle and aunt on the wharf that morning. I knew that I had +confided you to good hands." + +"They have done everything for me, Mrs. Holt," said Honora. + +The good lady patted her approvingly on the shoulder. + +"I'm sure of it, my dear," she said. "And I am glad to see you +appreciate it. And now you must renew your acquaintance with the +family." + +A sister and a brother, Honora had already learned from Susan, had died +since she had crossed the ocean with them. Robert and Joshua, Junior, +remained. Both were heavyset, with rather stern faces, both had +close-cropped, tan-coloured mustaches and wide jaws, with blue eyes +like Susan's. Both were, with women at least, what the French would call +difficult--Robert less so than Joshua. They greeted Honora reservedly +and--she could not help feeling--a little suspiciously. And their +appearance was something of a shock to her; they did not, somehow, "go +with the house," and they dressed even more carelessly than Peter Erwin. +This was particularly true of Joshua, whose low, turned-down collar +revealed a porous, brick-red, and extremely virile neck, and whose +clothes were creased at the knees and across the back. + +As for their wives, Mrs. Joshua was a merry, brown-eyed little lady +already inclining to stoutness, and Honora felt at home with her at +once. Mrs. Robert was tall and thin, with an olive face and dark eyes +which gave the impression of an uncomfortable penetration. She was +dressed simply in a shirtwaist and a dark skirt, but Honora thought her +striking looking. + +The grandchildren, playing on and off the porch, seemed legion, and they +were besieging Susan. In reality there were seven of them, of all sizes +and sexes, from the third Joshua with a tennis-bat to the youngest who +was weeping at being sent to bed, and holding on to her Aunt Susan with +desperation. When Honora had greeted them all, and kissed some of them, +she was informed that there were two more upstairs, safely tucked away +in cribs. + +"I'm sure you love children, don't you?" said Mrs. Joshua. She spoke +impulsively, and yet with a kind of childlike shyness. + +"I adore them," exclaimed Honora. + +A trellised arbour (which some years later would have been called a +pergola) led from the porch up the hill to an old-fashioned summer-house +on the crest. And thither, presently, Susan led Honora for a view of +the distant western hills silhouetted in black against a flaming western +sky, before escorting her to her room. The vastness of the house, the +width of the staircase, and the size of the second-story hall impressed +our heroine. + +"I'll send a maid to you later, dear," Susan said. "If you care to lie +down for half an hour, no one will disturb you. And I hope you will be +comfortable." + +Comfortable! When the door had closed, Honora glanced around her and +sighed, "comfort" seemed such a strangely inadequate word. She was +reminded of the illustrations she had seen of English country houses. +The bed alone would almost have filled her little room at home. On the +farther side, in an alcove, was a huge dressing-table; a fire was laid +in the grate of the marble mantel, the curtains in the bay window were +tightly drawn, and near by was a lounge with a reading-light. A huge +mahogany wardrobe occupied one corner; in another stood a pier glass, +and in another, near the lounge, was a small bookcase filled with +books. Honora looked over them curiously. "Robert Elsmere" and a life +of Christ, "Mr. Isaacs," a book of sermons by an eminent clergyman, +"Innocents Abroad," Hare's "Walks in Rome," "When a Man's Single," by +Barrie, a book of meditations, and "Organized Charities for Women." + +Adjoining the bedroom was a bathroom in proportion, evidently all her +own,--with a huge porcelain tub and a table set with toilet bottles +containing liquids of various colours. + +Dreamily, Honora slipped on the new dressing-gown Aunt Mary had made for +her, and took a book out of the bookcase. It was the volume of sermons. +But she could not read: she was forever looking about the room, and +thinking of the family she had met downstairs. Of course, when one lived +in a house like this, one could afford to dress and act as one liked. +She was aroused from her reflections by the soft but penetrating notes +of a Japanese gong, followed by a gentle knock on the door and the +entrance of an elderly maid, who informed her it was time to dress for +dinner. + +"If you'll excuse me, Miss," said that hitherto silent individual when +the operation was completed, "you do look lovely." + +Honora, secretly, was of that opinion too as she surveyed herself in the +long glass. The simple summer silk, of a deep and glowing pink, rivalled +the colour in her cheeks, and contrasted with the dark and shining +masses of her hair; and on her neck glistened a little pendant of her +mother's jewels, which Aunt Mary, with Cousin Eleanor's assistance, had +had set in New York. Honora's figure was that of a woman of five and +twenty: her neck was a slender column, her head well set, and the look +of race, which had been hers since childhood, was at nineteen more +accentuated. All this she saw, and went down the stairs in a kind of +exultation. And when on the threshold of the drawing-room she paused, +the conversation suddenly ceased. Mr. Holt and his sons got up somewhat +precipitately, and Mrs. Holt came forward to meet her. + +"I hope you weren't waiting for me," said Honora, timidly. + +"No indeed, my dear," said Mrs. Holt. Tucking Honora's hand under her +arm, she led the way majestically to the dining-room, a large apartment +with a dimly lighted conservatory at the farther end, presided over by +the decorous butler and his assistants. A huge chandelier with prisms +hung over the flowers at the centre of the table, which sparkled with +glass and silver, while dishes of vermilion and yellow fruits relieved +the whiteness of the cloth. Honora found herself beside Mr. Holt, who +looked more shrivelled than ever in his evening clothes. And she was +about to address him when, with a movement as though to forestall her, +he leaned forward convulsively and began a mumbling grace. + +The dinner itself was more like a ceremony than a meal, and as it +proceeded, Honora found it increasingly difficult to rid herself of a +curious feeling of being on probation. + +Joshua, who sat on her other side and ate prodigiously, scarcely +addressed a word to her; but she gathered from his remarks to his father +and brother that he was interested in cows. And Mr. Holt was almost +exclusively occupied in slowly masticating the special dishes which the +butler impressively laid before him. He asked her a few questions about +Miss Turner's school, but it was not until she had admired the mass +of peonies in the centre of the table that his eyes brightened, and he +smiled. + +"You like flowers?" he asked. + +"I love them," slid Honora. + +"I am the gardener here," he said. "You must see my garden, Miss +Leffingwell. I am in it by half-past six every morning, rain or shine." + +Honora looked up, and surprised Mrs. Robert's eyes fixed on her with +the same strange expression she had noticed on her arrival. And for some +senseless reason, she flushed. + +The conversation was chiefly carried on by kindly little Mrs. Joshua and +by Mrs. Holt, who seemed at once to preside and to dominate. She praised +Honora's gown, but left a lingering impression that she thought her +overdressed, without definitely saying so. And she made innumerable--and +often embarrassing--inquiries about Honora's aunt and uncle, and her +life in St. Louis, and her friends there, and how she had happened to go +to Sutcliffe to school. Sometimes Honora blushed, but she answered them +all good-naturedly. And when at length the meal had marched sedately +down to the fruit, Mrs. Holt rose and drew Honora out of the dining +room. + +"It is a little hard on you, my dear," she said, "to give you so +much family on your arrival. But there are some other people coming +to-morrow, when it will be gayer, I hope, for you and Susan." + +"It is so good of you and Susan to want me, Mrs. Holt," replied Honora, +"I am enjoying it so much. I have never been in a big country house +like this, and I am glad there is no one else here. I have heard my aunt +speak of you so often, and tell how kind you were to take charge of me, +that I have always hoped to know you sometime or other. And it seems +the strangest of coincidences that I should have roomed with Susan at +Sutcliffe." + +"Susan has grown very fond of you," said Mrs. Holt, graciously. "We are +very glad to have you, my dear, and I must own that I had a curiosity to +see you again. Your aunt struck me as a good and sensible woman, and it +was a positive relief to know that you were to be confided to her care." +Mrs. Holt, however, shook her head and regarded Honora, and her next +remark might have been taken as a clew to her thoughts. "But we are not +very gay at Silverdale, Honora." + +Honora's quick intuition detected the implication of a frivolity which +even her sensible aunt had not been able to eradicate. + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt," she cried, "I shall be so happy here, just seeing +things and being among you. And I am so interested in the little bit I +have seen already. I caught a glimpse of your girls' home on my way from +the station. I hope you will take me there." + +Mrs. Holt gave her a quick look, but beheld in Honora's clear eyes only +eagerness and ingenuousness. + +The change in the elderly lady's own expression, and incidentally in the +atmosphere which enveloped her, was remarkable. + +"Would you really like to go, my dear?" + +"Oh, yes indeed," cried Honora. "You see, I have heard so much of it, +and I should like to write my aunt about it. She is interested in the +work you are doing, and she has kept a magazine with an article in it, +and a picture of the institution." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed the lady, now visibly pleased. "It is a very modest +little work, my dear. I had no idea that--out in St. Louis--that the +beams of my little candle had carried so far. Indeed you shall see it, +Honora. We will go down the first thing in the morning." + +Mrs. Robert, who had been sitting on the other side of the room, rose +abruptly and came towards them. There was something very like a smile +on her face,--although it wasn't really a smile--as she bent over and +kissed her mother-in-law on the cheek. + +"I am glad to hear you are interested in--charities, Miss Leffingwell," +she said. + +Honora's face grew warm. + +"I have not so far had very much to do with them, I am afraid," she +answered. + +"How should she?" demanded Mrs. Holt. "Gwendolen, you're not going up +already?" + +"I have some letters to write," said Mrs. Robert. + +"Gwen has helped me immeasurably," said Mrs. Holt, looking after the +tall figure of her daughter-in-law, "but she has a curious, reserved +character. You have to know her, my dear. She is not at all like Susan, +for instance." + +Honora awoke the next morning to a melody, and lay for some minutes in +a delicious semi-consciousness, wondering where she was. Presently she +discovered that the notes were those of a bird on a tree immediately +outside of her window--a tree of wonderful perfection, the lower +branches of which swept the ground. Other symmetrical trees, of many +varieties, dotted a velvet lawn, which formed a great natural terrace +above the forested valley of Silver Brook. On the grass, dew-drenched +cobwebs gleamed in the early sun, and the breeze that stirred the +curtains was charged with the damp, fresh odours of the morning. Voices +caught her ear, and two figures appeared in the distance. One she +recognized as Mr. Holt, and the other was evidently a gardener. The gilt +clock on the mantel pointed to a quarter of seven. + +It is far too late in this history to pretend that Honora was, by +preference, an early riser, and therefore it must have been the +excitement caused by her surroundings that made her bathe and dress +with alacrity that morning. A housemaid was dusting the stairs as she +descended into the empty hall. She crossed the lawn, took a path through +the trees that bordered it, and came suddenly upon an old-fashioned +garden in all the freshness of its early morning colour. In one of the +winding paths she stopped with a little exclamation. Mr. Holt rose from +his knees in front of her, where he had been digging industriously with +a trowel. His greeting, when contrasted with his comparative taciturnity +at dinner the night before, was almost effusive--and a little pathetic. + +"My dear young lady," he exclaimed, "up so early?" He held up +forbiddingly a mould-covered palm. "I can't shake hands with you." + +Honora laughed. + +"I couldn't resist the temptation to see your garden," she said. + +A gentle light gleamed in his blue eyes, and he paused before a trellis +of June roses. With his gardening knife he cut three of them, and held +them gallantly against her white gown. Her sensitive colour responded as +she thanked him, and she pinned them deftly at her waist. + +"You like gardens?" he said. + +"I was brought up with them," she answered; "I mean," she corrected +herself swiftly, "in a very modest way. My uncle is passionately fond of +flowers, and he makes our little yard bloom with them all summer. But of +course," Honora added, "I've never seen anything like this." + +"It has been a life work," answered Mr. Holt, proudly, "and yet I feel +as though I had not yet begun. Come, I will show you the peonies--they +are at their best--before I go in and make myself respectable for +breakfast." + +Ten minutes later, as they approached the house in amicable and even +lively conversation, they beheld Susan and Mrs. Robert standing on the +steps under the porte-cochere, watching them. + +"Why, Honora," cried Susan, "how energetic you are! I actually had a +shock when I went to your room and found you'd gone. I'll have to write +Miss Turner." + +"Don't," pleaded Honora; "you see, I had every inducement to get up." + +"She has been well occupied," put in Mr. Holt. "She has been admiring my +garden." + +"Indeed I have," said Honora. + +"Oh, then, you have won father's heart!" cried Susan. Gwendolen Holt +smiled. Her eyes were fixed upon the roses in Honora's belt. + +"Good morning, Miss Leffingwell," she said, simply. + +Mr. Holt having removed the loam from his hands, the whole family, +excepting Joshua, Junior, and including an indefinite number of +children, and Carroll, the dignified butler, and Martha, the elderly +maid, trooped into the library for prayers. Mr. Holt sat down before +a teak-wood table at the end of the room, on which reposed a great, +morocco-covered Bible. Adjusting his spectacles, he read, in a mild but +impressive voice, a chapter of Matthew, while Mrs. Joshua tried to +quiet her youngest. Honora sat staring at a figure on the carpet, +uncomfortably aware that Mrs. Robert was still studying her. Mr. Holt +closed the Bible reverently, and announced a prayer, whereupon the +family knelt upon the floor and leaned their elbows on the seats of +their chairs. Honora did likewise, wondering at the facility with which +Mr. Holt worded his appeal, and at the number of things he found to pray +for. Her knees had begun to ache before he had finished. + +At breakfast such a cheerful spirit prevailed that Honora began almost +to feel at home. Even Robert indulged occasionally in raillery. + +"Where in the world is Josh?" asked Mrs. Holt, after they were seated. + +"I forgot to tell you, mother," little Mrs. Joshua chirped up, "that he +got up at an unearthly hour, and went over to Grafton to look at a cow." + +"A cow!" sighed Mrs. Holt. "Oh, dear, I might have known it. You must +understand, Honora, that every member of the Holt family has a hobby. +Joshua's is Jerseys." + +"I'm sure I should adore them if I lived in the country," Honora +declared. + +"If you and Joshua would only take that Sylvester farm, and build +a house, Annie," said Mr. Holt, munching the dried bread which was +specially prepared for him, "I should be completely happy. Then," he +added, turning to Honora, "I should have both my sons settled on the +place. Robert and Gwen are sensible in building." + +"It's cheaper to live with you, granddad," laughed Mrs. Joshua. "Josh +says if we do that, he has more money to buy cows." + +At this moment a footman entered, and presented Mrs. Holt with some mail +on a silver tray. + +"The Vicomte de Toqueville is coming this afternoon, Joshua," she +announced, reading rapidly from a sheet on which was visible a large +crown. "He landed in New York last week, and writes to know if I could +have him." + +"Another of mother's menagerie," remarked Robert. + +"I don't think that's nice of you, Robert," said his mother. "The +Vicomte was very kind to your father and me in Paris, and invited us to +his chateau in Provence." + +Robert was sceptical. + +"Are you sure he had one?" he insisted. + +Even Mr. Holt laughed. + +"Robert," said his mother, "I wish Gwen could induce you to travel more. +Perhaps you would learn that all foreigners aren't fortune-hunters." + +"I've had an opportunity to observe the ones who come over here, mother." + +"I won't have a prospective guest discussed," Mrs. Holt declared, with +finality. "Joshua, you remember my telling you last spring that Martha +Spence's son called on me?" she asked. "He is in business with a man +named Dallam, I believe, and making a great deal of money for a young +man. He is just a year younger than you, Robert." + +"Do you mean that fat, tow-headed boy that used to come up here and eat +melons and ride my pony?" inquired Robert. "Howard Spence?" + +Mrs. Holt smiled. + +"He isn't fat any longer, Robert. Indeed, he's quite good-looking. Since +his mother died, I had lost trace of him. But I found a photograph of +hers when I was clearing up my desk some months ago, and sent it to him, +and he came to thank me. I forgot to tell you that I invited him for a +fortnight any time he chose, and he has just written to ask if he may +come now. I regret to say that he's on the Stock Exchange--but I was +very fond of his mother. It doesn't seem to me quite a legitimate +business." + +"Why!" exclaimed little Mrs. Joshua, unexpectedly, "I'm given to +understand that the Stock Exchange is quite aristocratic in these days." + +"I'm afraid I am old-fashioned, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, rising. "It +has always seemed to me little better than a gambling place. Honora, if +you still wish to go to the Girls' Home, I have ordered the carriage in +a quarter of an hour." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. A CHAPTER OF CONQUESTS + +Honora's interest in the Institution was so lively, and she asked so +many questions and praised so highly the work with which the indiscreet +young women were occupied that Mrs. Holt patted her hand as they drove +homeward. + +"My dear," she said, "I begin to wish I'd adopted you myself. Perhaps, +later on, we can find a husband for you, and you will marry and settle +down near us here at Silverdale, and then you can help me with the +work." + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt," she replied, "I should so like to help you, I mean. And +it would be wonderful to live in such a place. And as for marriage, it +seems such a long way off that somehow I never think of it." + +"Naturally," ejaculated Mrs. Holt, with approval, "a young girl of your +age should not. But, my dear, I am afraid you are destined to have many +admirers. If you had not been so well brought up, and were not naturally +so sensible, I should fear for you." + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt!" exclaimed Honora, deprecatingly, and blushing very +prettily. + +"Whatever else I am," said Mrs. Holt, vigorously, "I am not a flatterer. +I am telling you something for your own good--which you probably know +already." + +Honora was discreetly silent. She thought of the proud and unsusceptible +George Hanbury, whom she had cast down from the tower of his sophomore +dignity with such apparent ease; and of certain gentlemen at home, +young and middle-aged, who had behaved foolishly during the Christmas +holidays. + +At lunch both the Roberts and the Joshuas were away. + +Afterwards, they romped with the children--she and Susan. They were +shy at first, especially the third Joshua, but Honora captivated him +by playing two sets of tennis in the broiling sun, at the end of which +exercise he regarded her with a new-born admiration in his eyes. He was +thirteen. + +"I didn't think you were that kind at all," he said. + +"What kind did you think I was?" asked Honora, passing her arm around +his shoulder as they walked towards the house. + +The boy grew scarlet. + +"Oh, I didn't think you--you could play tennis," he stammered. + +Honora stopped, and seized his chin and tilted his face upward. + +"Now, Joshua," she said, "look at me and say that over again." + +"Well," he replied desperately, "I thought you wouldn't want to get all +mussed up and hot." + +"That's better," said Honora. "You thought I was vain, didn't you?" + +"But I don't think so any more," he avowed passionately. "I think you're +a trump. And we'll play again to-morrow, won't we?" + +"We'll play any day you like," she declared. + +It is unfair to suppose that the arrival of a real vicomte and of +a young, good-looking, and successful member of the New York Stock +Exchange were responsible for Honora's appearance, an hour later, in the +embroidered linen gown which Cousin Eleanor had given her that +spring. Tea was already in progress on the porch, and if a hush in the +conversation and the scraping of chairs is any sign of a sensation, this +happened when our heroine appeared in the doorway. And Mrs. Holt, in the +act of lifting the hot-water kettle; put it down again. Whether or not +there was approval in the lady's delft-blue eye, Honora could not +have said. The Vicomte, with the graceful facility of his race, had +differentiated himself from the group and stood before her. As soon +as the words of introduction were pronounced, he made a bow that was a +tribute in itself, exaggerated in its respect. + +"It is a pleasure, Mademoiselle," he murmured, but his eyes were more +eloquent. + +A description of him in his own language leaped into Honora's mind, so +much did he appear to have walked out of one of the many yellow-backed +novels she had read. He was not tall, but beautifully made, and his coat +was quite absurdly cut in at the waist; his mustache was en-croc, and +its points resembled those of the Spanish bayonets in the conservatory: +he might have been three and thirty, and he was what the novels +described as 'un peu fane' which means that he had seen the world: his +eyes were extraordinarily bright, black, and impenetrable. + +A greater contrast to the Vicomte than Mr. Howard Spence would have +been difficult to find. He was Honora's first glimpse of Finance, of the +powers that travelled in private cars and despatched ships across the +ocean. And in our modern mythology, he might have stood for the god +of Prosperity. Prosperity is pink, and so was Mr. Spence, in two +places,--his smooth-shaven cheeks and his shirt. His flesh had a certain +firmness, but he was not stout; he was merely well fed, as Prosperity +should be. His features were comparatively regular, his mustache a +light brown, his eyes hazel. The fact that he came from that mysterious +metropolis, the heart of which is Wall Street, not only excused but +legitimized the pink shirt and the neatly knotted green tie, the +pepper-and-salt check suit that was loose and at the same time +well-fitting, and the jewelled ring on his plump little finger. On the +whole, Mr. Spence was not only prepossessing, but he contrived to give +Honora, as she shook his hand, the impression of being brought a step +nearer to the national source of power. Unlike the Vicomte, he did not +appear to have been instantly and mortally wounded upon her arrival on +the scene, but his greeting was flattering, and he remained by her side +instead of returning to that of Mrs. Robert. + +"When did you come up?" he asked. + +"Only yesterday," answered Honora. + +"New York," said Mr. Spence, producing a gold cigarette case on which +his monogram was largely and somewhat elaborately engraved, "New York +is played out this time of year--isn't it? I dropped in at Sherry's last +night for dinner, and there weren't thirty people there." + +Honora had heard of Sherry's as a restaurant where one dined fabulously, +and she tried to imagine the cosmopolitan and blissful existence which +permitted "dropping in at" such a place. Moreover, Mr. Spence was +plainly under the impression that she too "came up" from New York, and +it was impossible not to be a little pleased. + +"It must be a relief to get into the country," she ventured. + +Mr. Spence glanced around him expressively, and then looked at her with +a slight smile. The action and the smile--to which she could not refrain +from responding--seemed to establish a tacit understanding between them. +It was natural that he should look upon Silverdale as a slow place, and +there was something delicious in his taking, for granted that she shared +this opinion. She wondered a little wickedly what he would say when he +knew the truth about her, and this was the birth of a resolution that +his interest should not flag. + +"Oh, I can stand the country when it is properly inhabited," he said, +and their eyes met in laughter. + +"How many inhabitants do you require?" she asked. + +"Well," he said brazenly, "the right kind of inhabitant is worth a +thousand of the wrong kind. It is a good rule in business, when you come +across a gilt-edged security, to make a specialty of it." + +Honora found the compliment somewhat singular. But she was prepared to +forgive New York a few sins in the matter of commercial slang: New York, +which evidently dressed as it liked, and talked as it liked. But not +knowing any more of a gilt-edged security than that it was something to +Mr. Spence's taste, a retort was out of the question. Then, as though +she were doomed that day to complicity, her eyes chanced to encounter an +appealing glance from the Vicomte, who was searching with the courage +of despair for an English word, which his hostess awaited in stoical +silence. He was trying to give his impressions of Silverdale, in +comparison to country places abroad, while Mrs. Robert regarded +him enigmatically, and Susan sympathetically. Honora had an almost +irresistible desire to laugh. + +"Ah, Madame," he cried, still looking at Honora, "will you have the +kindness to permit me to walk about ever so little?" + +"Certainly, Vicomte, and I will go with you. Get my parasol, Susan. +Perhaps you would like to come, too, Howard," she added to Mr. Spence; +"it has been so long since you were here, and we have made many +changes." + +"And you, Mademoiselle," said the Vicomte to Honora, "you will come--yes? +You are interested in landscape?" + +"I love the country," said Honora. + +"It is a pleasure to have a guest who is so appreciative," said Mrs. +Holt. "Miss Leffingwell was up at seven this morning, and in the garden +with my husband." + +"At seven!" exclaimed the Vicomte; "you American young ladies are +wonderful. For example--" and he was about to approach her to enlarge +on this congenial theme when Susan arrived with the parasol, which Mrs. +Holt put in his hands. + +"We'll begin, I think, with the view from the summer house," she said. +"And I will show you how our famous American landscape architect, Mr. +Olmstead, has treated the slope." + +There was something humorous, and a little pathetic in the contrasted +figures of the Vicomte and their hostess crossing the lawn in front of +them. Mr. Spence paused a moment to light his cigarette, and he seemed +to derive infinite pleasure from this juxtaposition. + +"Got left,--didn't he?" he said. + +To this observation there was, obviously, no answer. + +"I'm not very strong on foreigners," he declared. "An American is good +enough for me. And there's something about that fellow which would make +me a little slow in trusting him with a woman I cared for." + +"If you are beginning to worry over Mrs. Holt," said Honora, "we'd +better walk a little faster." + +Mr. Spence's delight at this sally was so unrestrained as to cause the +couple ahead to turn. The Vicomte's expression was reproachful. + +"Where's Susan?" asked Mrs. Holt. + +"I think she must have gone in the house," Honora answered. + +"You two seem to be having a very good time." + +"Oh, we're hitting it off fairly well," said Mr. Spence, no doubt for +the benefit of the Vicomte. And he added in a confidential tone, "Aren't +we?" + +"Not on the subject of the Vicomte," she replied promptly. "I like him. +I like French people." + +"What!" he exclaimed, halting in his steps, "you don't take that man +seriously?" + +"I haven't known him long enough to take him seriously," said Honora. + +"There's a blindness about women," he declared, "that's +incomprehensible. They'll invest in almost any old thing if the +certificates are beautifully engraved. If you were a man, you wouldn't +trust that Frenchman to give you change for five dollars." + +"French people," proclaimed Honora, "have a light touch of which we +Americans are incapable. We do not know how to relax." + +"A light touch!" cried Mr. Spence, delightedly, "that about describes +the Vicomte." + +"I'm sure you do him an injustice," said Honora. + +"We'll see," said Mr. Spence. "Mrs. Holt is always picking up queer +people like that. She's noted for it." He turned to her. "How did you +happen to come here?" + +"I came with Susan," she replied, amusedly, "from boarding-school at +Sutcliffe." + +"From boarding-school!" + +She rather enjoyed his surprise. + +"You don't mean to say you are Susan's age?" + +"How old did you think I was?" she asked. + +"Older than Susan," he said surveying her. + +"No, I'm a mere child, I'm nineteen." + +"But I thought--" he began, and paused and lighted another cigarette. + +Her eyes lighted mischievously. + +"You thought that I had been out several years, and that I'd seen a good +deal of the world, and that I lived in New York, and that it was strange +you didn't know me. But New York is such an enormous place I suppose one +can't know everybody there." + +"And--where do you come from, if I may ask?" he said. + +"St. Louis. I was brought to this country before I was two years old, +from France. Mrs. Holt brought me. And I have never been out of St. +Louis since, except to go to Sutcliffe. There you have my history. Mrs. +Holt would probably have told it to you, if I hadn't." + +"And Mrs. Holt brought you to this country?" + +Honora explained, not without a certain enjoyment. + +"And how do you happen to be here?" she demanded. "Are you a member +of--of the menagerie?" + +He had the habit of throwing back his head when he laughed. This, of +course, was a thing to laugh over, and now he deemed it audacity. Five +minutes before he might have given it another name there is no use in +saying that the recital of Honora's biography had not made a difference +with Mr. Howard Pence, and that he was not a little mortified at +his mistake. What he had supposed her to be must remain a matter of +conjecture. He was, however, by no means aware how thoroughly this +unknown and inexperienced young woman had read his thoughts in her +regard. And if the truth be told, he was on the whole relieved that she +was nobody. He was just an ordinary man, provided with no sixth sense or +premonitory small voice to warn him that masculine creatures are often +in real danger at the moment when they feel most secure. + +It is certain that his manner changed, and during the rest of the walk +she listened demurely when he talked about Wall Street, with casual +references to the powers that be. It was evident that Mr. Howard Spence +was one who had his fingers on the pulse of affairs. Ambition leaped in +him. + +They reached the house in advance of Mrs. Holt and the Vicomte, and +Honora went to her room. + +At dinner, save for a little matter of a casual remark when Mr. Holt had +assumed the curved attitude in which he asked grace, Mr. Spence had a +veritable triumph. Self-confidence was a quality which Honora admired. +He was undaunted by Mrs. Holt, and advised Mrs. Robert, if she had +any pin-money, to buy New York Central; and he predicted an era of +prosperity which would be unexampled in the annals of the country. Among +other powers, he quoted the father of Honora's schoolmate, Mr. James +Wing, as authority for this prophecy. He sat next to Susan, who +maintained her usual maidenly silence, but Honora, from time to time, +and as though by accident, caught his eye. Even Mr. Holt, when not +munching his dried bread, was tempted to make some inquiries about the +market. + +"So far as I am concerned," Mrs. Holt announced suddenly, "nothing can +convince me that it is not gambling." + +"My dear Elvira!" protested Mr. Holt. + +"I can't help it," said that lady, stoutly; "I'm old-fashioned, I +suppose. But it seems to me like legalized gambling." + +Mr. Spence took this somewhat severe arraignment of his career in +admirable good nature. And if these be such a thing as an implied wink, +Honora received one as he proceeded to explain what he was pleased to +call the bona-fide nature of the transactions of Dallam and Spence. + +A discussion ensued in which, to her surprise, even the ordinarily +taciturn Joshua took a part, and maintained that the buying and selling +of blooded stock was equally gambling. To this his father laughingly +agreed. The Vicomte, who sat on Mrs. Holt's right, and who apparently +was determined not to suffer a total eclipse without a struggle, +gallantly and unexpectedly came to his hostess' rescue, though she +treated him as a doubtful ally. This was because he declared with +engaging frankness that in France the young men of his monde had a +jeunesse: he, who spoke to them, had gambled; everybody gambled in +France, where it was regarded as an innocent amusement. He had friends +on the Bourse, and he could see no difference in principle between +betting on the red at Monte Carlo and the rise and fall of the shares of +la Compagnie des Metaux, for example. After completing his argument, +he glanced triumphantly about the table, until his restless black +eyes encountered Honora's, seemingly seeking a verdict. She smiled +impartially. + +The subject of finance lasted through the dinner, and the Vicomte +proclaimed himself amazed with the evidences of wealth which confronted +him on every side in this marvellous country. And once, when he was at a +loss for a word, Honora astonished and enchanted him by supplying it. + +"Ah, Mademoiselle," he exclaimed, "I was sure when I first beheld you +that you spoke my language! And with such an accent!" + +"I have studied it all my life, Vicomte," she said, modestly, "and I had +the honour to be born in your country. I have always wished to see it +again." + +Monsieur de Toqueville ventured the fervent hope that her wish might +soon be gratified, but not before he returned to France. He expressed +himself in French, and in a few moments she found herself deep in a +discussion with him in that tongue. While she talked, her veins seemed +filled with fire; and she was dimly and automatically aware of the +disturbance about her, as though she were creating a magnetic storm that +interfered with all other communication. Mr. Holt's nightly bezique, +which he played with Susan, did not seem to be going as well as usual, +and elsewhere conversation was a palpable pretence. Mr. Spence, who +was attempting to entertain the two daughters-in-law, was clearly +distrait--if his glances meant anything. Robert and Joshua had not +appeared, and Mrs. Holt, at the far end of the room under the lamp, +regarded Honora from time to time over the edge of the evening +newspaper. + +In his capacity as a student of American manners, an unsuspected +if scattered knowledge on Honora's part of that portion of French +literature included between Theophile Gautier and Gyp at once dumfounded +and delighted the Vicomte de Toqueville. And he was curious to know +whether, amongst American young ladies, Miss Leffingwell was the +exception or the rule. Those eyes of his, which had paid to his hostess +a tender respect, snapped when they spoke to our heroine, and presently +he boldly abandoned literature to declare that the fates alone had sent +her to Silverdale at the time of his visit. + +It was at this interesting juncture that Mrs. Holt rattled her newspaper +a little louder than usual, arose majestically, and addressed Mrs. +Joshua. + +"Annie, perhaps you will play for us," she said, as she crossed the +room, and added to Honora: "I had no idea you spoke French so well, my +dear. What have you and Monsieur de Toqueville been talking about?" + +It was the Vicomte who, springing to his feet, replied nimbly: +"Mademoiselle has been teaching me much of the customs of your country." + +"And what," inquired Mrs. Holt, "have you been teaching Mademoiselle?" + +The Vicomte laughed and shrugged his shoulders expressively. + +"Ah, Madame, I wish I were qualified to be her teacher. The education of +American young ladies is truly extraordinary." + +"I was about to tell Monsieur de Toqueville," put in Honora, wickedly, +"that he must see your Institution as soon as possible, and the work +your girls are doing." + +"Madame," said the Vicomte, after a scarcely perceptible pause, "I await +my opportunity and your kindness." + +"I will take you to-morrow," said Mrs. Holt. + +At this instant a sound closely resembling a sneeze caused them to turn. +Mr. Spence, with his handkerchief to his mouth, had his back turned to +them, and was studiously regarding the bookcases. + +After Honora had gone upstairs for the night she opened her door in +response to a knock, to find Mrs. Holt on the threshold. + +"My dear," said that lady, "I feel that I must say a word to you. I +suppose you realize that you are attractive to men." + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt." + +"You're no fool, my dear, and it goes without saying that you-do realize +it--in the most innocent way, of course. But you have had no experience +in life. Mind you, I don't say that the Vicomte de Toqueville isn't very +much of a gentleman, but the French ideas about the relations of young +men and young women are quite different and, I regret to say, less +innocent than ours. I have no reason to believe that the Vicomte has +come to this country to--to mend his fortunes. I know nothing about his +property. But my sense of responsibility towards you has led me to tell +him that you have no dot, for you somehow manage to give the impression +of a young woman of fortune. Not purposely, my dear--I did not mean +that." Mrs. Holt tapped gently Honora's flaming cheek. "I merely felt +it my duty to drop you a word of warning against Monsieur de +Toqueville--because he is a Frenchman." + +"But, Mrs. Holt, I had no idea of--of falling in love with him," +protested Honora, as soon as she could get her breath. He seemed so +kind--and so interested in everything. + +"I dare say," said Mrs. Holt, dryly. "And I have always been led to +believe that that is the most dangerous sort. I am sure, Honora, after +what I have said, you will give him no encouragement." + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt," cried Honora again, "I shouldn't think of such a +thing!" + +"I am sure of it, Honora, now that you are forewarned. And your +suggestion to take him to the Institution was not a bad one. I meant to +do so anyway, and I think it will be good for him. Good night, my dear." + +After the good lady bad gone, Honora stood for some moments motionless. +Then she turned out the light. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH THE VICOMTE CONTINUES HIS STUDIES + +Mr. Robert Holt, Honora learned at breakfast, had two bobbies. She had +never heard of what is called Forestry, and had always believed the +wood of her country to be inexhaustible. It had never occurred to her +to think of a wild forest as an example of nature's extravagance, and +so flattering was her attention while Robert explained the primary +principles of caring for trees that he actually offered to show her one +of the tracts on the estate which he was treating. He could not,--he +regretted to say, take her that morning. + +His other hobby was golf. He was president of the Sutton Golf Club, +and had arranged to play a match with Mr. Spence. This gentleman, it +appeared, was likewise an enthusiast, and had brought to Silverdale a +leather bag filled with sticks. + +"Won't you come, too, Miss Leffingwell?" he said, as he took a second +cup of coffee. + +Somewhat to the astonishment of the Holt family, Robert seconded the +invitation. + +"I'll bet, Robert," said Mr. Spence, gallantly, "that Miss Leffingwell +can put it over both of us." + +"Indeed, I can't play at all," exclaimed Honora in confusion. "And I +shouldn't think of spoiling your match. And besides, I am going to drive +with Susan." + +"We can go another day, Honora," said Susan. + +But Honora would not hear of it. + +"Come over with me this afternoon, then," suggested Mr. Spence, "and +I'll give you a lesson." + +She thanked him gratefully. + +"But it won't be much fun for you, I'm afraid," she added, as they left +the dining room. + +"Don't worry about me," he answered cheerfully. He was dressed in a +checked golf costume, and wore a pink shirt of a new pattern. And he +stood in front of her in the hall, glowing from his night's sleep, +evidently in a high state of amusement. + +"What's the matter?" she demanded. + +"You did for the Vicomte all right," he said. "I'd give a good deal to +see him going through the Institution." + +"It wouldn't have hurt you, either," she retorted, and started up the +stairs. Once she glanced back and saw him looking after her. + +At the far end of the second story hall she perceived the Vicomte, who +had not appeared at breakfast, coming out of his room. She paused with +her hand on the walnut post and laughed a little, so ludicrous was his +expression as he approached her. + +"Ah, Mademoiselle, que vous etes mechante!" he exclaimed. "But I forgive +you, if you will not go off with that stock-broker. It must be that I +see the Home sometime, and if I go now it is over. I forgive you. It is +in the Bible that we must forgive our neighbour--how many times?" + +"Seventy times seven," said Honora. + +"But I make a condition," said the Vicomte, "that my neighbour shall +be a woman, and young and beautiful. Then I care not how many times. +Mademoiselle, if you would but have your portrait painted as you are, +with your hand on the post, by Sargent or Carolus Duran, there would be +some noise in the Salon." + +"Is that you, Vicomte?" came a voice from the foot of the stairs--Mrs. +Holt's voice. + +"I come this instant, Madame," he replied, looking over the banisters, +and added: "malheureux que je suis! Perhaps, when I return, you will +show me a little of the garden." + +The duty of exhibiting to guests the sights of Silverdale and the +neighbourhood had so often devolved upon Susan, who was methodical, that +she had made out a route, or itinerary, for this purpose. There were +some notes to leave and a sick woman and a child to see, which caused +her to vary it a little that morning; and Honora, who sat in the +sunlight and held the horse, wondered how it would feel to play the lady +bountiful. "I am so glad to have you all to myself for a little while, +Honora," Susan said to her. "You are so popular that I begin to fear +that I shall have to be unselfish, and share you." + +"Oh, Susan," she said, "every one has been so kind. And I can't tell you +how much I am enjoying this experience, which I feel I owe to you." + +"I am so happy, dear, that it is giving you pleasure," said Susan. + +"And don't think," exclaimed Honora, "that you won't see lots of me, for +you will." + +Her heart warmed to Susan, yet she could not but feel a secret pity +for her, as one unable to make the most of her opportunities in the +wonderful neighbourhood in which she lived. As they drove through the +roads and in and out of the well-kept places, everybody they met had a +bow and a smile for her friend--a greeting such as people give to those +for whom they have only good-will. Young men and girls waved their +racquets at her from the tennis-courts; and Honora envied them and +wished that she, too, were a part of the gay life she saw, and were +playing instead of being driven decorously about. She admired the +trim, new houses in which they lived, set upon the slopes of the hills. +Pleasure houses, they seemed to her, built expressly for joys which had +been denied her. + +"Do you see much of--of these people, Susan?" she asked. + +"Not so much as I'd like," replied Susan, seriously. "I never seem to +get time. We nearly always have guests at Silverdale, and then there +are so many things one has to attend to. Perhaps you have noticed," she +added, smiling a little, "that we are very serious and old-fashioned." + +"Oh, no indeed," protested Honora. "It is such a wonderful experience +for me to be here!" + +"Well," said Susan, "we're having some young people to dinner to-night, +and others next week--that's why I'm leaving these notes. And then we +shall be a little livelier." + +"Really, Susan, you mustn't think that I'm not having a good time. It is +exciting to be in the same house with a real French Vicomte, and I like +Mr. Spence tremendously." + +Her friend was silent. + +"Don't you?" demanded Honora. + +To her surprise, the usually tolerant Susan did not wholly approve of +Mr. Spence. + +"He is a guest, and I ought not to criticise him," she answered. "But +since you ask me, Honora, I have to be honest. It seems to me that his +ambitions are a little sordid--that he is too intent upon growing rich." + +"But I thought all New Yorkers were that way," exclaimed Honora, and +added hastily, "except a few, like your family, Susan." + +Susan laughed. + +"You should marry a diplomat, my dear," she said. "After all, perhaps +I am a little harsh. But there is a spirit of selfishness and--and of +vulgarity in modern, fashionable New York which appears to be catching, +like a disease. The worship of financial success seems to be in every +one's blood." + +"It is power," said Honora. + +Susan glanced at her, but Honora did not remark the expression on her +friend's face, so intent was she on the reflections which Susan's words +had aroused. They had reached the far end of the Silverdale domain, and +were driving along the shore of the lake that lay like a sapphire set +amongst the green hills. It was here that the new house of the Robert +Holts was building. Presently they came to Joshua's dairy farm, and +Joshua himself was standing in the doorway of one of his immaculate barn +Honora put her hand on Susan's arm. + +"Can't we see the cows?" she asked. + +Susan looked surprised. + +"I didn't know you were interested in cows, Honora." + +"I am interested in everything," said Honora: "and I think your brother +is so attractive." + +It was at this moment that Joshua, with his hands in his pockets, +demanded what his sister was doing there. + +"Miss Leffingwell wants to look at the cattle, Josh," called Susan. + +"Won't you show them to me, Mr. Holt," begged Honora. "I'd like so much +to see some really good cattle, and to know a little more about them." + +Joshua appeared incredulous. But, being of the male sex, he did not hide +the fact that he was pleased, "it seems strange to have somebody really +want to see them," he said. "I tried to get Spence to come back this +way, but the idea didn't seem to appeal to him. Here are some of the +records." + +"Records?" repeated Honora, looking at a mass of typewritten figures on +the wall. "Do you mean to say you keep such an exact account of all the +milk you get?" + +Joshua laughed, and explained. She walked by his side over the concrete +paving to the first of the varnished stalls. + +"That," he said, and a certain pride had come into his voice, "is Lady +Guinevere, and those ribbons are the prizes she has taken on both sides +of the water." + +"Isn't she a dear!" exclaimed Honora; "why, she's actually beautiful. I +didn't know cows could be so beautiful." + +"She isn't bad," admitted Joshua. "Of course the good points in a cow +aren't necessarily features of beauty for instance, these bones here," +he added, pointing to the hips. + +"But they seem to add, somehow, to the thoroughbred appearance," Honora +declared. + +"That's absolutely true," replied Joshua,--whereupon he began to talk. +And Honora, still asking questions, followed him from stall to stall. +"There are some more in the pasture," he said, when they had reached the +end of the second building. + +"Oh, couldn't I see them?" she asked. + +"Surely," replied Joshua, with more of alacrity than one would have +believed him capable. "I'll tell Susan to drive on, and you and I will +walk home across the fields, if you like." + +"I should love to," said Honora. + +It was not without astonishment that the rest of the Holt family beheld +them returning together as the gongs were sounding for luncheon. Mrs. +Holt, upon perceiving them, began at once to shake her head and laugh. + +"My dear, it can't be that you have captivated Joshua!" she exclaimed, +in a tone that implied the carrying of a stronghold hitherto thought +impregnable. + +Honora blushed, whether from victory or embarrassment, or both, it is +impossible to say. + +"I'm afraid it's just the other way, Mrs. Holt," she replied; "Mr. Holt +has captivated me." + +"We'll call it mutual, Miss Leffingwell," declared Joshua, which was for +him the height of gallantry. + +"I only hope he hasn't bored you," said the good-natured Mrs. Joshua. + +"Oh, dear, no," exclaimed Honora. "I don't see how any one could be +bored looking at such magnificent animals as that Hardicanute." + +It was at this moment that her eyes were drawn, by a seemingly +resistless attraction, to Mrs. Robert's face. Her comment upon this +latest conquest, though unexpressed, was disquieting. And in spite of +herself, Honora blushed again. + +At luncheon, in the midst of a general conversation, Mr. Spence made a +remark sotto voce which should, in the ordinary course of events, have +remained a secret. + +"Susan," he said, "your friend Miss Leffingwell is a fascinator. She's +got Robert's scalp, too, and he thought it a pretty good joke because I +offered to teach her to play golf this afternoon." + +It appeared that Susan's eyes could flash indignantly. Perhaps she +resented Mr. Spence's calling her by her first name. + +"Honora Leffingwell is the most natural and unspoiled person I know," +she said. + +There is, undoubtedly, a keen pleasure and an ample reward in teaching +a pupil as apt and as eager to learn as Honora. And Mr. Spence, if he +attempted at all to account for the swiftness with which the hours of +that long afternoon slipped away, may have attributed their flight to +the discovery in himself of hitherto latent talent for instruction. At +the little Casino, he had bought, from the professional in charge of the +course, a lady's driver; and she practised with exemplary patience +the art of carrying one's hands through and of using the wrists in the +stroke. + +"Not quite, Miss Leffingwell," he would say, "but so." + +Honora would try again. + +"That's unusually good for a beginner, but you are inclined to chop it +off a little still. Let it swing all the way round." + +"Oh, dear, how you must hate me!" + +"Hate you?" said Mr. Spence, searching in vain for words with which to +obliterate such a false impression. "Anything but that!" + +"Isn't it a wonderful, spot?" she exclaimed, gazing off down the swale, +emerald green in the afternoon light between its forest walls. In the +distance, Silver Brook was gleaming amidst the meadows. They sat down +on one of the benches and watched the groups of players pass. Mr. Spence +produced his cigarette case, and presented it to her playfully. + +"A little quiet whiff," he suggested. "There's not much chance over +at the convent," and she gathered that it was thus he was pleased to +designate Silverdale. + +In one instant she was doubtful whether or not to be angry, and in the +next grew ashamed of the provincialism which had caused her to suspect +an insult. She took a cigarette, and he produced a gold match case, +lighted a match, and held it up for her. Honora blew it out. + +"You didn't think seriously that I smoked?" she asked, glancing at him. + +"Why not?" he asked; "any number of girls do." + +She tore away some of the rice paper and lifted the tobacco to her nose, +and made a little grimace. + +"Do you like to see women smoke?" she asked. + +Mr. Spence admitted that there was something cosey about the custom, +when it was well done. + +"And I imagine," he added, "that you'd do it well." + +"I'm sure I should make a frightful mess of it," she protested modestly. + +"You do everything well," he said. + +"Even golf?" she inquired mischievously. + +"Even golf, for a beginner and--and a woman; you've got the swing in +an astonishingly short time. In fact, you've been something of an +eye-opener to me," he declared. "If I had been betting, I should have +placed the odds about twenty to one against your coming from the West." + +This Eastern complacency, although it did not lower Mr. Spence in her +estimation, aroused Honora's pride. + +"That shows how little New Yorkers know of the West," she replied, +laughing. "Didn't you suppose there were any gentlewomen there?" + +"Gentlewomen," repeated Mr. Spence, as though puzzled by the word, +"gentlewomen, yes. But you might have been born anywhere." + +Even her sense of loyalty to her native place was not strong enough to +override this compliment. + +"I like a girl with some dash and go to her," he proclaimed, and +there could be no doubt about the one to whom he was attributing these +qualities. "Savoir faire, as the French call it, and all that. I don't +know much about that language, but the way you talk it makes Mrs. Holt's +French and Susan's sound silly. I watched you last night when you were +stringing the Vicomte." + +"Oh, did you?" said Honora, demurely. + +"You may have thought I was talking to Mrs. Robert," he said. + +"I wasn't thinking anything about you," replied Honora, indignantly. +"And besides, I wasn't I stringing' the Vicomte. In the West we don't +use anything like so much slang as you seem to use in New York." + +"Oh, come now!" he exclaimed, laughingly, and apparently not the least +out of countenance, "you made him think he was the only pebble on the +beach. I have no idea what you were talking about." + +"Literature," she said. "Perhaps that was the reason why you couldn't +understand it." + +"He may be interested in literature," replied Mr. Spence, "but it +wouldn't be a bad guess to say that he was more interested in stocks and +bonds." + +"He doesn't talk about them, at any rate," said Honora. + +"I'd respect him more if he did," he announced. "I know those +fellows-they make love to every woman they meet. I saw him eying you at +lunch." + +Honora laughed. + +"I imagine the Vicomte could make love charmingly," she said. + +Mr. Spence suddenly became very solemn. + +"Merely as a fellow-countryman, Miss Leffingwell--" he began, when she +sprang to her feet, her eyes dancing, and finished the sentence. + +"You would advise me to be on my guard against him, because, although I +look twenty-five and experienced, I am only nineteen and inexperienced. +Thank you." + +He paused to light another cigarette before he followed her across the +turf. But she had the incomprehensible feminine satisfaction of knowing, +as they walked homeward, that the usual serenity of his disposition was +slightly ruffled. + +A sudden caprice impelled her, in the privacy of her bedroom that +evening, to draw his portrait for Peter Erwin. The complacency of New +York men was most amusing, she wrote, and the amount of slang they used +would have been deemed vulgar in St. Louis. Nevertheless, she liked +people to be sure of themselves, and there was something "insolent" +about New York which appealed to her. Peter, when he read that letter, +seemed to see Mr. Howard Spence in the flesh; or arrayed, rather, in +the kind of cloth alluringly draped in the show-windows of fashionable +tailors. For Honora, all unconsciously, wrote literature. Literature +was invented before phonographs, and will endure after them. Peter could +hear Mr. Spence talk, for a part of that gentleman's conversation--a +characteristic part--was faithfully transcribed. And Peter detected a +strain of admiration running even through the ridicule. + +Peter showed that letter to Aunt Mary, whom it troubled, and to Uncle +Tom, who laughed over it. There was also a lifelike portrait of the +Vicomte, followed by the comment that he was charming, but very French; +but the meaning of this last, but quite obvious, attribute remained +obscure. He was possessed of one of the oldest titles and one of the +oldest chateaux in France. (Although she did not say so, Honora had this +on no less authority than that of the Vicomte himself.) Mrs. Holt--with +her Victorian brooch and ear-rings and her watchful delft-blue eyes that +somehow haunted one even when she was out of sight, with her ample bosom +and the really kind heart it contained--was likewise depicted; and Mr. +Holt, with his dried bread, and his garden which Honora wished Uncle Tom +could see, and his prayers that lacked imagination. Joshua and his cows, +Robert and his forest, Susan and her charities, the Institution, jolly +Mrs. Joshua and enigmatical Mrs. Robert--all were there: and even a +picture of the dinner-party that evening, when Honora sat next to a +young Mr. Patterson with glasses and a studious manner, who knew George +Hanbury at Harvard. The other guests were a florid Miss Chamberlin, +whose person loudly proclaimed possessions, and a thin Miss Longman, who +rented one of the Silverdale cottages and sketched. + +Honora was seeing life. She sent her love to Peter, and begged him to +write to her. + +The next morning a mysterious change seemed to have passed over the +members of the family during the night. It was Sunday. Honora, when +she left her room, heard a swishing on the stairs--Mrs. Joshua, stiffly +arrayed for the day. Even Mrs. Robert swished, but Mrs. Holt, in a +bronze-coloured silk, swished most of all as she entered the library +after a brief errand to the housekeeper's room. Mr. Holt was already +arranging his book-marks in the Bible, while Joshua and Robert, in black +cutaways that seemed to have the benumbing and paralyzing effect of +strait-jackets, wandered aimlessly about the room, as though its walls +were the limit of their movements. The children had a subdued and +touch-me-not air that reminded Honora of her own youth. + +It was not until prayers were over and the solemn gathering seated at +the breakfast table that Mr. Spence burst upon it like an aurora. His +flannel suit was of the lightest of grays; he wore white tennis shoes +and a red tie, and it was plain, as he cheerfully bade them good +morning, that he was wholly unaware of the enormity of his costume. +There was a choking, breathless moment before Mrs. Holt broke the +silence. + +"Surely, Howard," she said, "you're not going to church in those +clothes." + +"I hadn't thought of going to church," replied Mr. Spence, helping +himself to cherries. + +"What do you intend to do?" asked his hostess. + +"Read the stock reports for the week as soon as the newspapers arrive." + +"There is no such thing as a Sunday newspaper in my house," said Mrs. +Holt. + +"No Sunday newspapers!" he exclaimed. And his eyes, as they encountered +Honora's,--who sought to avoid them,--expressed a genuine dismay. + +"I am afraid," said Mrs. Holt, "that I was right when I spoke of the +pernicious effect of Wall Street upon young men. Your mother did not +approve of Sunday newspapers." + +During the rest of the meal, although he made a valiant attempt to hold +his own, Mr. Spence was, so to speak, outlawed. Robert and Joshua must +have had a secret sympathy for him. One of them mentioned the Vicomte. + +"The Vicomte is a foreigner," declared Mrs. Holt. "I am in no sense +responsible for him." + +The Vicomte was at that moment propped up in bed, complaining to his +valet about the weakness of the coffee. He made the remark (which he +afterwards repeated to Honora) that weak coffee and the Protestant +religion seemed inseparable; but he did not attempt to discover the +whereabouts, in Sutton, of the Church of his fathers. He was not in the +best of humours that morning, and his toilet had advanced no further +when, an hour or so later, he perceived from behind his lace curtains +Mr. Howard Spence, dressed with comparative soberness, handing Honora +into the omnibus. The incident did not serve to improve the cynical mood +in which the Vicomte found himself. + +Indeed, the Vicomte, who had a theory concerning Mr. Spence's +church-going, was not far from wrong. As may have been suspected, it +was to Honora that credit was due. It was Honora whom Mr. Spence +sought after breakfast, and to whom he declared that her presence alone +prevented him from leaving that afternoon. It was Honora who told him +that he ought to be ashamed of himself. And it was to Honora, after +church was over and they were walking homeward together along the dusty +road, that Mr. Spence remarked by way of a delicate compliment that "the +morning had not been a total loss, after all!" + +The little Presbyterian church stood on a hillside just outside of the +village and was, as far as possible, the possession of the Holt family. +The morning sunshine illuminated the angels in the Holt memorial window, +and the inmates of the Holt Institution occupied all the back pews. Mrs. +Joshua played the organ, and Susan, with several young women and a young +man with a long coat and plastered hair, sang in the choir. The sermon +of the elderly minister had to do with beliefs rather than deeds, and +was the subject of discussion at luncheon. + +"It is very like a sermon I found in my room," said Honora. + +"I left that book in your room, my dear, in the hope that you would not +overlook it," said Mrs. Holt, approvingly. "Joshua, I wish you would +read that sermon aloud to us." + +"Oh, do, Mr. Holt!" begged Honora. + +The Vicomte, who had been acting very strangely during the meal, showed +unmistakable signs of a futile anger. He had asked Honora to walk with +him. + +"Of course," added Mrs. Holt, "no one need listen who doesn't wish to. +Since you were good enough to reconsider your decision and attend divine +service, Howard, I suppose I should be satisfied." + +The reading took place in the library. Through the open window Honora +perceived the form of Joshua asleep in the hammock, his Sunday coat all +twisted under him. It worried her to picture his attire when he should +wake up. Once Mrs. Robert looked in, smiled, said nothing, and went out +again. At length, in a wicker chair under a distant tree on the lawn, +Honora beheld the dejected outline of the Vicomte. He was trying +to read, but every once in a while would lay down his book and gaze +protractedly at the house, stroking his mustache. The low song of the +bees around the shrubbery vied with Mr. Holt's slow reading. On the +whole, the situation delighted Honora, who bit her lip to refrain from +smiling at M. de Toqueville. When at last she emerged from the library, +he rose precipitately and came towards her across the lawn, lifting his +hands towards the pitiless puritan skies. + +"Enfin!" he exclaimed tragically. "Ah, Mademoiselle, never in my life +have I passed such a day!" + +"Are you ill, Vicomte?" she asked. + +"Ill! Were it not for you, I would be gone. You alone sustain me--it is +for the pleasure of seeing you that I suffer. What kind of a menage is +this, then, where I am walked around Institutions, where I am forced to +listen to the exposition of doctrines, where the coffee is weak, where +Sunday, which the bon Dieu set aside for a jour de fete resembles to a +day in purgatory?" + +"But, Vicomte," Honora laughed, "you must remember that you are in +America, and that you have come here to study our manners and customs." + +"Ah, no," he cried, "ah, no, it cannot all be like this! I will not +believe it. Mr. Holt, who sought to entertain me before luncheon, +offered to show me his collection of Chinese carvings! I, who might be +at Trouville or Cabourg! If it were not for you, Mademoiselle, I should +not stay here--not one little minute," he said, with a slow intensity. +"Behold what I suffer for your sake!" + +"For my sake?" echoed Honora. + +"For what else?" demanded the Vicomte, gazing upon her with the eyes of +martyrdom. "It is not for my health, alas! Between the coffee and this +dimanche I have the vertigo." + +Honora laughed again at the memory of the dizzy Sunday afternoons of her +childhood, when she had been taken to see Mr. Isham's curios. + +"You are cruel," said the Vicomte; "you laugh at my tortures." + +"On the contrary, I think I understand them," she replied. "I have often +felt the same way." + +"My instinct was true, then," he cried triumphantly; "the first time my +eyes fell on you, I said to myself, 'ah! there is one who understands.' +And I am seldom mistaken." + +"Your experience with the opposite sex," ventured Honora, "must have +made you infallible." + +He shrugged and smiled, as one whose modesty forbade the mention of +conquests. + +"You do not belong here either, Mademoiselle," he said. "You are not +like these people. You have temperament, and a future--believe me. Why +do you waste your time?" + +"What do you mean, Vicomte?" + +"Ah, it is not necessary to explain what I mean. It is that you do not +choose to understand--you are far too clever. Why is it, then, that you +bore yourself by regarding Institutions and listening to sermons in your +jeunesse? It is all very well for Mademoiselle Susan, but you are not +created for a religieuse. And again, it pleases you to spend hours with +the stockbroker, who is as lacking in esprit as the bull of Joshua. He +is no companion for you." + +"I am afraid," she said reprovingly, "that you do not understand Mr. +Spence." + +"Par exemple!" cried the Vicomte; "have I not seen hundreds' like +him? Do not they come to Paris and live in the great hotels and demand +cocktails and read the stock reports and send cablegrams all the day +long? and go to the Folies Bergeres, and yawn? Nom de nom, of what does +his conversation consist? Of the price of railroads;--is it not so? I, +who speak to you, have talked to him. Does he know how to make love?" + +"That accomplishment is not thought of very highly in America," Honora +replied. + +"It is because you are a new country," he declared. + +"And you are mad over money. Money has taken the place of love." + +"Is money so despised in France?" she asked. "I have heard--that you +married for it!" + +"Touch!" cried the Vicomte, laughing. "You see, I am frank with you. We +marry for money, yes, but we do not make a god of it. It is our servant. +You make it, and we enjoy it. Yes, and you, Mademoiselle--you, too, were +made to enjoy. You do not belong here," he said, with a disdainful sweep +of the arm. "Ah, I have solved you. You have in you the germ of the +Riviera. You were born there." + +Honora wondered if what he said were true. Was she different? She was +having a great deal of pleasure at Silverdale; even the sermon reading, +which would have bored her at home, had interested and amused her. But +was it not from the novelty of these episodes, rather than from +their special characters, that she received the stimulus? She glanced +curiously towards the Vicomte, and met his eye. + +They had been walking the while, and had crossed the lawn and entered +one of the many paths which it had been Robert's pastime to cut through +the woods. And at length they came out at a rustic summer-house set +over the wooded valley. Honora, with one foot on the ground, sat on the +railing gazing over the tree-tops; the Vicomte was on the bench beside +her. His eyes sparkled and snapped, and suddenly she tingled with a +sense that the situation was not without an element of danger. + +"I had a feeling about you, last night at dinner," he said; "you +reminded me of a line of Marcel Prevost, 'Cette femme ne sera pas aimee +que parmi des drames.'" + +"Nonsense," said Honora; "last night at dinner you were too much +occupied with Miss Chamberlin to think of me." + +"Ah, Mademoiselle, you have read me strangely if you think that. I +talked to her with my lips, yes--but it was of you I was thinking. I was +thinking that you were born to play a part in many dramas, that you have +the fatal beauty which is rare in all ages." The Vicomte bent towards +her, and his voice became caressing. "You cannot realize how beautiful +you are," he sighed. + +Suddenly he seized her hand, and before she could withdraw it she had +the satisfaction of knowing the sensation of having it kissed. It was +a strange sensation indeed. And the fact that she did not tingle with +anger alone made her all the more angry. Trembling, her face burning, +she leaped down from the railing and fled into the path. And there, +seeing that he did not follow, she turned and faced him. He stood +staring at her with eyes that had not ceased to sparkle. + +"How cowardly of you!" she cried. + +"Ah, Mademoiselle," he answered fervently, "I would risk your anger +a thousand times to see you like that once more. I cannot help my +feelings--they were dead indeed if they did not respond to such an +inspiration. Let them plead for my pardon." + +Honora felt herself melting a little. After all, there might have been +some excuse for it, and he made love divinely. When he had caught up +with her, his contriteness was such that she was willing to believe he +had not meant to insult her. And then, he was a Frenchman. As a proof of +his versatility, if not of his good faith, he talked of neutral matters +on the way back to the house, with the charming ease and lightness that +was the gift of his race and class. On the borders of the wood they +encountered the Robert Holts, walking with their children. + +"Madame," said the Vicomte to Gwendolen, "your Silverdale is enchanting. +We have been to that little summer-house which commands the valley." + +"And are you still learning things about our country, Vicomte?" she +asked, with a glance at Honora. + + + + +CHAPTER X. IN WHICH HONORA WIDENS HER HORIZON + +If it were not a digression, it might be interesting to speculate upon +the reason why, in view of their expressed opinions of Silverdale, +both the Vicomte and Mr. Spence remained during the week that followed. +Robert, who went off in the middle of it with his family to the +seashore, described it to Honora as a normal week. During its progress +there came and went a missionary from China, a pianist, an English lady +who had heard of the Institution, a Southern spinster with literary +gifts, a youthful architect who had not built anything, and a young +lawyer interested in settlement work. + +The missionary presented our heroine with a book he had written about +the Yang-tse-kiang; the Southern lady suspected her of literary gifts; +the architect walked with her through the woods to the rustic shelter +where the Vicomte had kissed her hand, and told her that he now +comprehended the feelings of Christopher Wren when he conceived St. +Paul's Cathedral, of Michael Angelo when he painted the Sistine Chapel. +Even the serious young lawyer succumbed, though not without a struggle. +When he had first seen Miss Leffingwell, he confessed, he had thought +her frivolous. He had done her an injustice, and wished to acknowledge +it before he left. And, since she was interested in settlement work, he +hoped, if she were going through New York, that she would let him know. +It would be a real pleasure to show her what he was doing. + +Best of all, Honora, by her unselfishness, endeared herself to her +hostess. + +"I can't tell you what a real help you are to me, my dear," said that +lady. "You have a remarkable gift with people for so young a girl, and I +do you the credit of thinking that it all springs from a kind heart." + +In the meantime, unknown to Mrs. Holt, who might in all conscience have +had a knowledge of what may be called social chemistry, a drama was +slowly unfolding itself. By no fault of Honora's, of course. There +may have been some truth in the quotation of the Vicomte as applied to +her--that she was destined to be loved only amidst the play of drama. If +experience is worth anything, Monsieur de Toqueville should have been an +expert in matters of the sex. Could it be possible, Honora asked herself +more than once, that his feelings were deeper than her feminine instinct +and, the knowledge she had gleaned from novels led her to suspect? + +It is painful to relate that the irregularity and deceit of the life the +Vicomte was leading amused her, for existence at Silverdale was plainly +not of a kind to make a gentleman of the Vicomte's temperament and +habits ecstatically happy. And Honora was filled with a strange and +unaccountable delight when she overheard him assuring Mrs. Wellfleet, +the English lady of eleemosynary tendencies, that he was engaged in a +study at first hand of Americans. + +The time has come to acknowledge frankly that it was Honora he was +studying--Honora as the type of young American womanhood. What he did +not suspect was that young American womanhood was studying him. Thanks +to a national System, she had had an apprenticeship; the heart-blood of +Algernon Cartwright and many others had not been shed in vain. And the +fact that she was playing with real fire, that this was a duel with +the buttons off, lent a piquancy and zest to the pastime which it had +hitherto lacked. + +The Vicomte's feelings were by no means hidden processes to Honora, and +it was as though she could lift the lid of the furnace at any time and +behold the growth of the flame which she had lighted. Nay, nature had +endowed her with such a gift that she could read the daily temperature +as by a register hung on the outside, without getting scorched. Nor had +there been any design on her part in thus tormenting his soul. He had +not meant to remain more than four days at Silverdale, that she knew; +he had not meant to come to America and fall in love with a penniless +beauty--that she knew also. The climax would be interesting, if +perchance uncomfortable. + +It is wonderful what we can find the time to do, if we only try. +Monsieur de Toqueville lent Honora novels, which she read in bed; but +being in the full bloom of health and of a strong constitution, this +practice did not prevent her from rising at seven to take a walk through +the garden with Mr. Holt--a custom which he had come insensibly to +depend upon. And in the brief conversations which she vouchsafed the +Vicomte, they discussed his novels. In vain he pleaded, in caressing +undertones, that she should ride with him. Honora had never been on a +horse, but she did not tell him so. If she would but drive, or walk-only +a little way--he would promise faithfully not to forget himself. Honora +intimated that the period of his probation had not yet expired. If he +waylaid her on the stairs, he got but little satisfaction. + +"You converse by the hour with the missionaries, and take long +promenades with the architects and charity workers, but to me you will +give nothing," he complained. + +"The persons of whom you speak are not dangerous," answered Honora, +giving him a look. + +The look, and being called dangerous, sent up the temperature several +degrees. Frenchmen are not the only branch of the male sex who are +complimented by being called dangerous. The Vicomte was desolated, so he +said. + +"I stay here only for you, and the coffee is slowly deranging me," +he declared in French, for most of their conversations were in that +language. If there were duplicity in this, Honora did not recognize it. +"I stay here only for you, and how you are cruel! I live for you--how, +the good God only knows. I exist--to see you for ten minutes a day." + +"Oh, Vicomte, you exaggerate. If you were to count it up, I am sure you +would find that we talk an hour at least, altogether. And then, although +I am very young and inexperienced, I can imagine how many conquests you +have made by the same arts." + +"I suffer," he cried; "ah, no, you cannot look at me without perceiving +it--you who are so heartless. And when I see you play at golf with that +Mr. Spence--!" + +"Surely," said Honora, "you can't object to my acquiring a new +accomplishment when I have the opportunity, and Mr. Spence is so kind +and good-natured about it." + +"Do you think I have no eyes?" he exclaimed. "Have I not seen him look +at you like the great animal of Joshua when he wants his supper? He +is without esprit, without soul. There is nothing inside of him but +money-making machinery." + +"The most valuable of all machinery," she replied, laughingly. + +"If I thought you believed that, Mademoiselle, if I thought you were +like so many of your countrywomen in this respect, I should leave +to-morrow," he declared. + +"Don't be too sure, Vicomte," she cautioned him. + +If one possessed a sense of humour and a certain knowledge of mankind, +the spectacle of a young and successful Wall Street broker at Silverdale +that week was apt to be diverting. Mr. Spence held his own. He advised +the architect to make a specialty of country houses, and promised some +day to order one: he disputed boldly with the other young man as to the +practical uses of settlement work, and even measured swords with the +missionary. Needless to say, he was not popular with these gentlemen. +But he was also good-natured and obliging, and he did not object +to repeating for the English lady certain phrases which she called +"picturesque expressions," and which she wrote down with a gold pencil. + +It is evident, from the Vicomte's remarks, that he found time to +continue Honora's lessons in golf--or rather that she found time, in the +midst of her manifold and self-imposed duties, to take them. And in this +diversion she was encouraged by Mrs. Holt herself. On Saturday morning, +the heat being unusual, they ended their game by common consent at the +fourth hole and descended a wood road to Silver Brook, to a spot which +they had visited once before and had found attractive. Honora, after +bathing her face in the pool, perched herself on a boulder. She was very +fresh and radiant. + +This fact, if she had not known it, she might have gathered from Mr. +Silence's expression. He had laid down his coat; his sleeves were rolled +up and his arms were tanned, and he stood smoking a cigarette and gazing +at her with approbation. She lowered her eyes. + +"Well, we've had a pretty good time, haven't we?" he remarked. + +Lightning sometimes fails in its effect, but the look she flashed back +at him from under her blue lashes seldom misses. + +"I'm afraid I haven't been a very apt pupil," she replied modestly. + +"You're on the highroad to a cup," he assured her. "If I could take you +on for another week" He paused, and an expression came into his eyes +which was not new to Honora, nor peculiar to Mr. Silence. "I have to go +back to town on Monday." + +If Honora felt any regret at this announcement, she did not express it. + +"I thought you couldn't stand Silverdale much longer," she replied. + +"You know why I stayed," he said, and paused again--rather awkwardly for +Mr. Spence. But Honora was silent. "I had a letter this morning from my +partner, Sidney Dallam, calling me back." + +"I suppose you are very busy," said Honora, detaching a copper-green +scale of moss from the boulder. + +"The fact is," he explained, "that we have received an order of +considerable importance, for which I am more or less responsible. +Something of a compliment--since we are, after all, comparatively young +men." + +"Sometimes," said Honora, "sometimes I wish I were a man. Women are so +hampered and circumscribed, and have to wait for things to happen to +them. A man can do what he wants. He can go into Wall Street and fight +until he controls miles of railroads and thousands and thousands of men. +That would be a career!" + +"Yes," he agreed, smilingly, "it's worth fighting for." + +Her eyes were burning with a strange light as she looked down the vista +of the wood road by which they had come. He flung his cigarette into the +water and took a step nearer her. + +"How long have I known you?" he asked. + +She started. + +"Why, it's only a little more than a week," she said. + +"Does it seem longer than that to you?" + +"Yes," admitted Honora, colouring; "I suppose it's because we've been +staying in the same house." + +"It seems to me," said Mr. Spence, "that I have known you always." + +Honora sat very still. It passed through her brain, without comment, +that there was a certain haunting familiarity about this remark; some +other voice, in some other place, had spoken it, and in very much the +same tone. + +"You're the kind of girl I admire," he declared. "I've been watching +you--more than you have any idea of. You're adaptable. Put you down any +place, and you take hold. For instance, it's a marvellous thing to me +how you've handled all the curiosities up there this week." + +"Oh, I like people," said Honora, "they interest me." And she laughed a +little, nervously. She was aware that Mr. Spence was making love, in his +own manner: the New fork manner, undoubtedly; though what he said was +changed by the new vibrations in his voice. He was making love, too, +with a characteristic lack of apology and with assurance. She stole a +glance at him, and beheld the image of a dominating man of affairs. He +did not, it is true, evoke in her that extreme sensation which has been +called a thrill. She had read somewhere that women were always expecting +thrills, and never got them. Nevertheless, she had not realized how +close a bond of sympathy had grown between them until this sudden +announcement of his going back to New York. In a little while she too +would be leaving for St. Louis. The probability that she would never see +him again seemed graver than she would have believed. + +"Will you miss me a little?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes," she said breathlessly, "and I shall be curious to know how +your--your enterprise succeeds." + +"Honora," he said, "it is only a week since I first met you, but I know +my own mind. You are the woman I want, and I think I may say without +boasting that I can give you what you desire in life--after a while. I +love you. You are young, and just now I felt that perhaps I should have +waited a year before speaking, but I was afraid of missing altogether +what I know to be the great happiness of my life. Will you marry me?" + +She sat silent upon the rock. She heard him speak, it is true; but, try +as she would, the full significance of his words would not come to her. +She had, indeed, no idea that he would propose, no notion that his heart +was involved to such an extent. He was very near her, but he had not +attempted to touch her. His voice, towards the end of his speech, had +trembled with passion--a true note had been struck. And she had struck +it, by no seeming effort! He wished to marry her! + +He aroused her again. + +"I have frightened you," he said. + +She opened her eyes. What he beheld in them was not fright--it was +nothing he had ever seen before. For the first time in his life, +perhaps, he was awed. And, seeing him helpless, she put out her hands to +him with a gesture that seemed to enhance her gift a thousand-fold. He +had not realized what he was getting. + +"I am not frightened," she said. "Yes, I will marry you." + +He was not sure whether--so brief was the moment!--he had held and +kissed her cheek. His arms were empty now, and he caught a glimpse of +her poised on the road above him amidst the quivering, sunlit leaves, +looking back at him over her shoulder. + +He followed her, but she kept nimbly ahead of him until they came out +into the open golf course. He tried to think, but failed. Never in his +orderly life had anything so precipitate happened to him. He caught up +with her, devoured her with his eyes, and beheld in marriage a delirium. + +"Honora," he said thickly, "I can't grasp it." + +She gave him a quick look, and a smile quivered at the corners of her +mouth. + +"What are you thinking of?" he asked. + +"I am thinking of Mrs. Holt's expression when we tell her," said Honora. +"But we shan't tell her yet, shall we, Howard? We'll have it for our own +secret a little while." + +The golf course being deserted, he pressed her arm. + +"We'll tell her whenever you like, dear," he replied. + +In spite of the fact that they drove Joshua's trotter to lunch--much too +rapidly in the heat of the day, they were late. + +"I shall never be able to go in there and not give it away," he +whispered to her on the stairs. + +"You look like the Cheshire cat in the tree," whispered Honora, +laughing, "only more purple, and not so ghostlike." + +"I know I'm smiling," replied Howard, "I feel like it, but I can't help +it. It won't come off. I want to blurt out the news to every one in the +dining-room--to that little Frenchman, in particular." + +Honora laughed again. Her imagination easily summoned up the tableau +which such a proceeding would bring forth. The incredulity, the chagrin, +the indignation, even, in some quarters. He conceived the household, +with the exception of the Vicomte, precipitating themselves into his +arms. + +Honora, who was cool enough herself (no doubt owing to the superior +training which women receive in matters of deportment), observed that +his entrance was not a triumph of dissimulation. His colour was high, +and his expression, indeed, a little idiotic; and he declared afterwards +that he felt like a sandwich-man, with the news printed in red letters +before and behind. Honora knew that the intense improbability of the +truth would save them, and it did. Mrs. Holt remarked, slyly, that the +game of golf must have hidden attractions, and regretted that she was +too old to learn it. + +"We went very slowly on account of the heat," Howard declared. + +"I should say that you had gone very rapidly, from your face," retorted +Mrs. Holt. In relaxing moods she indulged in banter. + +Honora stepped into the breach. She would not trust her newly acquired +fiance to extricate himself. + +"We were both very much worried, Mrs. Holt," she explained, "because we +were late for lunch once before." + +"I suppose I'll have to forgive you, my dear, especially with that +colour. I am modern enough to approve of exercise for young girls, and +I am sure your Aunt Mary will think Silverdale has done you good when I +send you back to her." + +"Oh, I'm sure she will," said Honora. + +In the meantime Mr. Spence was concentrating all of his attention upon +a jellied egg. Honora glanced at the Vicomte. He sat very stiff, and his +manner of twisting his mustache reminded her of an animal sharpening +its claws. It was at this moment that the butler handed her a telegram, +which, with Mrs. Holt's permission, she opened and read twice before the +meaning of it came to her. + +"I hope it is no bad news, Honora," said Mrs. Holt. + +"It's from Peter Erwin," she replied, still a little dazed. "He's in +New York. And he's corning up on the five o'clock train to spend an hour +with me." + +"Oh," said Susan; "I remember his picture on your bureau at Sutcliffe. +He had such a good face. And you told me about him." + +"He is like my brother," Honora explained, aware that Howard was looking +at her. "Only he is much older than I. He used to wheel me up and down +when I was a baby. He was, an errand boy in the bank then, and Uncle +Tom took an interest in him, and now he is a lawyer. A very good one, I +believe." + +"I have a great respect for any man who makes his own way in life," said +Mrs. Holt. "And since he is such an old friend, my dear, you must ask +him to spend the night." + +"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Bolt," Honora answered. + +It was, however, with mingled feelings that she thought of Peter's +arrival at this time. Life, indeed, was full of strange coincidences! + +There was a little door that led out of the house by the billiard room, +Honora remembered, and contrived, after luncheon, to slip away and reach +it. She felt that she must be alone, and if she went to her room she +was likely to be disturbed by Susan or Mrs. Joshua--or indeed Mrs. Holt +herself. Honora meant to tell Susan the first of all. She crossed the +great lawn quickly, keeping as much as possible the trees and masses of +shrubbery between herself and the house, and reached the forest. With a +really large fund of energy at her disposal, Honora had never been +one to believe in the useless expenditure of it; nor did she feel the +intense desire which a girl of another temperament might have had, +under the same conditions, to keep in motion. So she sat down on a bench +within the borders of the wood. + +It was not that she wished to reflect, in the ordinary meaning of the +word, that she had sought seclusion, but rather to give her imagination +free play. The enormity of the change that was to come into her life did +not appall her in the least; but she had, in connection with it, a sense +of unreality which, though not unpleasant, she sought unconsciously to +dissipate. Howard Spence, she reflected with a smile, was surely solid +and substantial enough, and she thought of him the more tenderly for the +possession of these attributes. A castle founded on such a rock was not +a castle in Spain! + +It did not occur to Honora that her thoughts might be more of the castle +than of the rock: of the heaven he was to hold on his shoulders than of +the Hercules she had chosen to hold it. + +She would write to her Aunt Mary and her Uncle Tom that very +afternoon--one letter to both. Tears came into her eyes when she thought +of them, and of their lonely life' without her. But they would come on +to New York to visit her often, and they would be proud of her. Of one +thing she was sure--she must go home to them at once--on Tuesday. She +would tell Mrs. Holt to-morrow, and Susan to-night. And, while pondering +over the probable expression of that lady's amazement, it suddenly +occurred to her that she must write the letter immediately, because +Peter Erwin was coming. + +What would he say? Should she tell him? She was surprised to find that +the idea of doing so was painful to her. But she was aroused from these +reflections by a step on the path, and raised her head to perceive the +Vicomte. His face wore an expression of triumph. + +"At last," he cried, "at last!" And he sat down on the bench beside +her. Her first impulse was to rise, yet for some inexplicable reason she +remained. + +"I always suspected in you the qualities of a Monsieur Lecoq," she +remarked. "You have an instinct for the chase." + +"Mon dieu?" he said. "I have risked a stroke of the sun to find you. Why +should you so continually run away from me?" + +"To test your ingenuity, Vicomte." + +"And that other one--the stock-broker--you do not avoid him. Diable, I +am not blind, Mademoiselle. It is plain to me at luncheon that you have +made boil the sluggish blood of that one. As for me--" + +"Your boiling-point is lower," she said, smiling. + +"Listen, Mademoiselle," he pursued, bending towards her. "It is not for +my health that I stay here, as I have told you. It is for the sight of +you, for the sound of the music of that low voice. It is in the hope +that you will be a little kinder, that you will understand me a little +better. And to-day, when I learn that still another is on his way to see +you, I could sit still no longer. I do not fear that Spence,--no. But +this other--what is he like?" + +"He is the best type of American," replied Honora. "I am sure you will +be interested in him, and like him." + +The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders. + +"It is not in America that you will find your destiny, Mademoiselle. +You are made to grace a salon, a court, which you will not find in +this country. Such a woman as you is thrown away here. You possess +qualities--you will pardon me--in which your countrywomen are +lacking,--esprit, imagination, elan, the power to bind people to you. +I have read you as you have not read yourself. I have seen how you have +served yourself by this famille Holt, and how at the same time you have +kept their friendship." + +"Vicomte!" she exclaimed. + +"Ah, do not get angry," he begged; "such gifts are rare--they are +sublime. They lead," he added, raising his arms, "to the heights." + +Honora was silent. She was, indeed, not unmoved by his voice, into +which there was creeping a vibrant note of passion. She was a little +frightened, but likewise puzzled and interested. This was all so +different from what she had expected of him. What did he mean? Was she +indeed like that? + +She was aware that he was speaking again, that he was telling her of a +chateau in France which his ancestors had owned since the days of Louis +XII; a grey pile that stood upon a thickly wooded height,--a chateau +with a banquet hall, where kings had dined, with a chapel where kings +had prayed, with a flowering terrace high above a gleaming river. It was +there that his childhood had been passed. And as he spoke, she listened +with mingled feelings, picturing the pageantry of life in such a place. + +"I tell you this, Mademoiselle," he said, "that you may know I am not +what you call an adventurer. Many of these, alas! come to your country. +And I ask you to regard with some leniency customs which must be strange +to Americans. When we marry in France, it is with a dot, and especially +is it necessary amongst the families of our nobility." + +Honora rose, the blood mounting to her temples. + +"Mademoiselle," he cried, "do not misunderstand me. I would die rather +than hurt your feelings. Listen, I pray. It was to tell you frankly that +I came to this country for that purpose,--in order that I might live as +my ancestors have lived, with a hotel in Paris: But the chateau, grace +a dieu, is not mortgaged, nor am I wholly impoverished. I have soixante +quinze mille livres de rente, which is fifteen thousand dollars a year +in your money, and which goes much farther in France. At the proper +time, I will present these matters to your guardians. I have lived, but +I have a heart, and I love you madly. Rather would I dwell with you +in Provence, where I will cultivate the soil of my forefathers, than a +palace on the Champs Elysees with another. We can come to Paris for two +months, at least. For you I can throw my prospects out of the window +with a light heart. Honore--how sweet is your name in my language--I +love you to despair." + +He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips, but she drew it gently +away. It seemed to her that he had made the very air quiver with +feeling, and she let herself wonder, for a moment, what life with him +would be. Incredible as it seemed, he had proposed to her, a penniless +girl! Her own voice was not quite steady as she answered him, and her +eyes were filled with compassion. + +"Vicomte," she said, "I did not know that you cared for me--that way. I +thought--I thought you were amusing yourself." + +"Amusing myself!" he exclaimed bitterly. "And you--were you amusing +yourself?" + +"I--I tried to avoid you," she replied, in a low voice. + +"I am engaged." + +"Engaged!" He sprang to his feet. "Engaged! Ah, no, I will not believe +it. You were engaged when you came here?" + +She was no little alarmed by the violence which he threw into his words. +At the same time, she was indignant. And yet a mischievous sprite within +her led her on to tell him the truth. + +"No, I am going to marry Mr. Howard Spence, although I do not wish it +announced." + +For a moment he stood motionless, speechless, staring at her, and then +he seemed to sway a little and to choke. + +"No, no," he cried, "it cannot be! My ears have deceived me. I am not +sane. You are going to marry him--? Ah, you have sold yourself." + +"Monsieur de Toqueville," she said, "you forget yourself. Mr. Spence is +an honourable man, and I love him." + +The Vicomte appeared to choke again. And then, suddenly, he became +himself, although his voice was by no means natural. His elaborate and +ironic bow she remembered for many years. + +"Pardon, Mademoiselle," he said, "and adieu. You will be good enough to +convey my congratulations to Mr. Spence." + +With a kind of military "about face" he turned and left her abruptly, +and she watched him as he hurried across the lawn until he had +disappeared behind the trees near the house. When she sat down on +the bench again, she found that she was trembling a little. Was the +unexpected to occur to her from now on? Was it true, as the Vicomte had +said, that she was destined to be loved amidst the play of drama? + +She felt sorry for him because he had loved her enough to fling to the +winds his chances of wealth for her sake--a sufficient measure of the +feelings of one of his nationality and caste. And she permitted, for an +instant, her mind to linger on the supposition that Howard Spence had +never come into her life; might she not, when the Vicomte had made his +unexpected and generous avowal, have accepted him? She thought of the +romances of her childish days, written at fever heat, in which ladies +with titles moved around and gave commands and rebuked lovers who +slipped in through wicket gates. And to think that she might have been a +Vicomtesse and have lived in a castle! + +A poor Vicomtesse, it is true. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN + +Honora sat still upon the bench. After an indefinite period she +saw through the trees a vehicle on the driveway, and in it a single +passenger. And suddenly it occurred to her that the passenger must be +Peter, for Mrs. Holt had announced her intention of sending for him. She +arose and approached the house, not without a sense of agitation. + +She halted a moment at a little distance from the porch, where he was +talking with Howard Spence and Joshua, and the fact that he was an +unchanged Peter came to her with a shock of surprise. So much, in less +than a year, had happened to Honora! And the sight of him, and the sound +of his voice, brought back with a rush memories of a forgotten past. How +long it seemed since she had lived in St. Louis! + +Yes, he was the same Peter, but her absence from him had served to +sharpen her sense of certain characteristics. He was lounging in his +chair with his long legs crossed, with one hand in his pocket, and +talking to these men as though he had known them always. There was a +quality about him which had never struck her before, and which eluded +exact definition. It had never occurred to her, until now, when she saw +him out of the element with which she had always associated him, +that Peter Erwin had a personality. That personality was a mixture of +simplicity and self-respect and--common sense. And as Honora listened +to his cheerful voice, she perceived that he had the gift of expressing +himself clearly and forcibly and withal modestly; nor did it escape her +that the other two men were listening with a certain deference. In her +sensitive state she tried to evade the contrast thus suddenly presented +to her between Peter and the man she had promised, that very morning, to +marry. + +Howard Spence was seated on the table, smoking a cigarette. Never, it +seemed, had he more distinctly typified to her Prosperity. An attribute +which she had admired in him, of strife without the appearance of +strife, lost something of its value. To look at Peter was to wonder +whether there could be such a thing as a well-groomed combatant; and +until to-day she had never thought of Peter as a combatant. The sight of +his lean face summoned, all undesired, the vague vision of an ideal, and +perhaps it was this that caused her voice to falter a little as she came +forward and called his name. He rose precipitately. + +"What a surprise, Peter!" she said, as she took his hand. "How do you +happen to be in the East?" + +"An errand boy," he replied. "Somebody had to come, so they chose +me. Incidentally," he added, smiling down at her, "it is a part of my +education." + +"We thought you were lost," said Howard Spence, significantly. + +"Oh, no," she answered lightly, evading his look. "I was on the bench +at the edge of the wood." She turned again to Peter. "How good of you to +come up and see me!" + +"I couldn't have resisted that," he declared, "if it were only for an +hour." + +"I've been trying to persuade him to stay a while with us," Joshua put +in with unusual graciousness. "My mother will be disappointed not to see +you." + +"There is nothing I should like better, Mr. Holt," said Peter, simply, +gazing off across the lawn. "Unfortunately I have to leave for the West +to-night." + +"Before you go," said Honora, "you must see this wonderful place. Come, +we'll begin with the garden." + +She had a desire now to take him away by himself, something she had +wished, an hour ago, to avoid. + +"Wouldn't you like a runabout?" suggested Joshua, hospitably. + +Honora thanked him. + +"I'm sure Mr. Erwin would rather walk," she replied. + +"Come, Peter, you must tell me all the news of home." + +Spence accepted his dismissal with a fairly good grace, and gave no +evidence of jealousy. He put his hand on Peter's shoulder. + +"If you're ever in New York, Erwin," said he, "look me up Dallam and +Spence. We're members of the Exchange, so you won't have any trouble in +finding us. I'd like to talk to you sometime about the West." + +Peter thanked him. + +For a little while, as they went down the driveway side by side, he +was meditatively silent. She wondered what he thought of Howard Spence, +until suddenly she remembered that her secret was still her own, that +Peter had as yet no particular reason to single out Mr. Spence for +especial consideration. She could not, however, resist saying, "New +Yorkers are like that." + +"Like what?" he asked. + +She coloured. + +"Like--Mr. Spence. A little--self-assertive, sure of themselves." She +strove to keep out of her voice any suspicion of the agitation which +was the result of the events of an extraordinary day, not yet ended. +She knew that it would have been wiser not to have mentioned Howard; but +Peter's silence, somehow, had impelled her to speak. "He has made quite +an unusual success for so young a man." + +Peter looked at her and shook his head. + +"New York--success! What is to become of poor old St. Louis?" he +inquired. + +"Oh, I'm going back next week," Honora cried. "I wish I were going with +you." + +"And leave all this," he said incredulously, "for trolley rides and +Forest Park and--and me?" + +He stopped in the garden path and looked upon the picture she made +standing in the sunlight against the blazing borders, her wide hat +casting a shadow on her face. And the smile which she had known so well +since childhood, indulgent, quizzical, with a touch of sadness, was in +his eyes. She was conscious of a slight resentment. Was there, in fact, +no change in her as the result of the events of those momentous ten +months since she had seen him? And rather than a tolerance in which +there was neither antagonism nor envy, she would have preferred from +Peter an open disapproval of luxury, of the standards which he implied +were hers. She felt that she had stepped into another world, but he +refused to be dazzled by it. He insisted upon treating her as the same +Honora. + +"How did you leave Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary?" she asked. + +They were counting the days, he said, until she should return, but they +did not wish to curtail her visit. They did not expect her next week, he +knew. + +Honora coloured again. + +"I feel--that I ought to go to them," she said. + +He glanced at her as though her determination to leave Silverdale so +soon surprised him. + +"They will be very happy to see you, Honora," he said. "They have been +very lonesome." + +She softened. Some unaccountable impulse prompted her to ask: "And you? +Have you missed me--a little?" + +He did not answer, and she saw that he was profoundly affected. She laid +a hand upon his arm. + +"Oh, Peter, I didn't mean that," she cried. "I know you have. And I have +missed you--terribly. It seems so strange seeing you here," she went on +hurriedly. "There are so many' things I want to show you. Tell me how it +happened hat you came on to New York." + +"Somebody in the firm had to come," he said. + +"In the firm!" she repeated. She did not grasp the full meaning of this +change in his status, but she remembered that Uncle Tom had predicted it +one day, and that it was an honour. "I never knew any one so secretive +about their own affairs! Why didn't you write me you had been admitted +to the firm? So you are a partner of Judge Brice." + +"Brice, Graves, and Erwin," said Peter; "it sounds very grand, doesn't +it? I can't get used to it myself." + +"And what made you call yourself an errand boy?" she exclaimed +reproachfully. "When I go back to the house I intend to tell Joshua Holt +and--and Mr. Spence that you are a great lawyer." + +Peter laughed. + +"You'd better wait a few years before you say that," said he. + +He took an interest in everything he saw, in Mr. Holt's flowers, in +Joshua's cow barn, which they traversed, and declared, if he were +ever rich enough, he would live in the country. They walked around the +pond,--fringed now with yellow water-lilies on their floating green +pads,--through the woods, and when the shadows were lengthening came out +at the little summer-house over the valley of Silver Brook--the scene of +that first memorable encounter with the Vicomte. At the sight of it the +episode, and much else of recent happening, rushed back into +Honora's mind, and she realized with suddenness that she had, in his +companionship, unconsciously been led far afield and in pleasant places. +Comparisons seemed inevitable. + +She watched him with an unwonted tugging at her heart as he stood for a +long time by the edge of the railing, gazing over the tree-tops of the +valley towards the distant hazy hills. Nor did she understand what it +was in him that now, on this day of days when she had definitely cast +the die of life, when she had chosen her path, aroused this strange +emotion. Why had she never felt it before? She had thought his face +homely--now it seemed to shine with a transfiguring light. She recalled, +with a pang, that she had criticised his clothes: to-day they seemed the +expression of the man himself. Incredible is the range of human emotion! +She felt a longing to throw herself into his arms, and to weep there. + +He turned at length from the view. + +"How wonderful!" he said. + +"I didn't know--you cared for nature so much, Peter." + +He looked at her strangely and put out his hand and drew her, +unresisting, to the bench beside him. + +"Are you in trouble, Honora?" he asked. + +"Oh, no," she cried, "oh, no, I am--very happy." + +"You may have thought it odd that I should have come here without +knowing Mrs. Holt," he said gravely, "particularly when you were going +home so soon. I do not know myself why I came. I am a matter-of-fact +person, but I acted on an impulse." + +"An impulse!" she faltered, avoiding the troubled, searching look in his +eyes. + +"Yes," he said, "an impulse. I can call it by no other name. I should +have taken a train that leaves New York at noon; but I had a feeling +this morning, which seemed almost like a presentiment, that I might be +of some use to you." + +"This morning?" She felt herself trembling, and she scarcely recognized +Peter with such words on his lips. "I am happy--indeed I am. Only--I am +overwrought--seeing you again--and you made me think of home." + +"It was no doubt very foolish of me," he declared. "And if my coming has +upset you--" + +"Oh, no," she cried. "Please don't think so. It has given me a sense +of--of security. That you were ready to help me if--if I needed you." + +"You should always have known that," he replied. He rose and stood +gazing off down the valley once more, and she watched him with her heart +beating, with a sense of an impending crisis which she seemed powerless +to stave off. And presently he turned to her, "Honora, I have loved you +for many years," he said. "You were too young for me to speak of it. I +did not intend to speak of it when I came here to-day. For many years I +have hoped that some day you might be my wife. My one fear has been that +I might lose you. Perhaps--perhaps it has been a dream. But I am willing +to wait, should you wish to see more of the world. You are young yet, +and I am offering myself for all time. There is no other woman for me, +and never can be." + +He paused and smiled down at her. But she did not speak. She could not. + +"I know," he went on, "that you are ambitious. And with your gifts I +do not blame you. I cannot offer you great wealth, but I say with +confidence that I can offer you something better, something surer. I +can take care of you and protect you, and I will devote my life to your +happiness. Will you marry me?" + +Her eyes were sparkling with tears,--tears, he remembered afterwards, +that were like blue diamonds. + +"Oh, Peter," she cried, "I wish I could! I have always--wished that I +could. I can't." + +"You can't?" + +She shook her head. + +"I--I have told no one yet--not even Aunt Mary. I am going to marry Mr. +Spence." + +For a long time he was silent, and she did not dare to look at the +suffering in his face. + +"Honora," he said at last, "my most earnest wish in life will be for +your happiness. And whatever may, come to you I hope that you will +remember that I am your friend, to be counted on. And that I shall not +change. Will you remember that?" + +"Yes," she whispered. She looked at him now, and through the veil of +her tears she seemed to see his soul shining in his eyes. The tones of a +distant church bell were borne to them on the valley breeze. + +Peter glanced at his watch. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I haven't time to go back to the house--my +train goes at seven. Can I get down to the village through the valley?" + +Honora pointed out the road, faintly perceptible through the trees +beneath them. + +"And you will apologize for my departure to Mrs. Holt?" + +She nodded. He took her hand, pressed it, and was gone. And presently, +in a little clearing far below, he turned and waved his hat at her +bravely. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. WHICH CONTAINS A SURPRISE FOR MRS. HOLT + +How long she sat gazing with unseeing eyes down the valley Honora did +not know. Distant mutterings of thunder aroused her; the evening sky +had darkened, and angry-looking clouds of purple were gathering over the +hills. She rose and hurried homeward. She had thought to enter by the +billiard-room door, and so gain her own chamber without encountering the +household; but she had reckoned without her hostess. Beyond the billiard +room, in the little entry filled with potted plants, she came face to +face with that lady, who was inciting a footman to further efforts in +his attempt to close a recalcitrant skylight. Honora proved of more +interest, and Mrs. Holt abandoned the skylight. + +"Why, my dear," she said, "where have you been all afternoon?" + +"I--I have been walking with Mr. Erwin, Mrs. Holt. I have been showing +him Silverdale." + +"And where is he? It seems to me I invited him to stay all night, and +Joshua tells me he extended the invitation." + +"We were in the little summer-house, and suddenly he discovered that it +was late and he had to catch the seven o'clock train," faltered Honora, +somewhat disconnectedly. "Otherwise he would have come to you himself +and told you--how much he regretted not staying. He has to go to St. +Louis to-night." + +"Well," said Mrs. Holt, "this is an afternoon of surprises. The Vicomte +has gone off, too, without even waiting to say good-by." + +"The Vicomte!" exclaimed Honora. + +"Didn't you see him, either, before he left?" inquired Mrs. Holt; "I +thought perhaps you might be able to give me some further explanation of +it." + +"I?" exclaimed Honora. She felt ready to sink through the floor, and +Mrs. Holt's delft-blue eyes haunted her afterwards like a nightmare. + +"Didn't you see him, my dear? Didn't he tell you anything?" + +"He--he didn't say he was going away." + +"Did he seem disturbed about anything?" Mrs. Holt insisted. + +"Now I think of it, he did seem a little disturbed." + +"To save my life," said Mrs. Holt, "I can't understand it. He left a +note for me saying that he had received a telegram, and that he had +to go at once. I was at a meeting of my charity board. It seems a very +strange proceeding for such an agreeable and polite man as the Vicomte, +although he had his drawbacks, as all Continentals have. And at times I +thought he was grave and moody,--didn't you?" + +"Oh, yes, he was moody," Honora agreed eagerly. + +"You noticed it, too," said Mrs. Holt. "But he was a charming man, +and so interested in America and in the work we are doing. But I can't +understand about the telegram. I had Carroll inquire of every servant in +the house, and there is no knowledge of a telegram having come up from +the village this afternoon." + +"Perhaps the Vicomte might have met the messenger in the grounds," +hazarded Honora. + +At this point their attention was distracted by a noise that bore +a striking resemblance to a suppressed laugh. The footman on the +step-ladder began to rattle the skylight vigorously. + +"What on earth is the matter with you, Woods?" said Mrs. Holt. + +"It must have been some dust off the skylight, Madam, that got into my +throat," he stammered, the colour of a geranium. + +"Nonsense," said Mrs. Holt, "there is no dust on the skylight." + +"It may be I swallowed the wrong way, looking up like, as I was, Madam," +he ventured, rubbing the frame and looking at his finger to prove his +former theory. + +"You are very stupid not to be able to close it," she declared; "in a +few minutes the place will be flooded. Tell Carroll to come and do it." + +Honora suffered herself to be led limply through the library and up +the stairs into Mrs. Holt's own boudoir, where a maid was closing the +windows against the first great drops of the storm, which the wind was +pelting against them. She drew the shades deftly, lighted the gas, and +retired. Honora sank down in one of the upholstered light blue satin +chairs and gazed at the shining brass of the coal grate set in the +marble mantel, above which hung an engraving of Sir Joshua Reynolds' +cherubs. She had an instinct that the climax of the drama was at hand. + +Mrs. Holt sat down in the chair opposite. + +"My dear," she began, "I told you the other day what an unexpected and +welcome comfort and help you have been to me. You evidently inherit" +(Mrs. Holt coughed slightly) "the art of entertaining and pleasing, and +I need not warn you, my dear, against the dangers of such a gift. Your +aunt has evidently brought you up with strictness and religious care. +You have been very fortunate." + +"Indeed I have, Mrs. Holt," echoed Honora, in bewilderment. + +"And Susan," continued Mrs. Holt, "useful and willing as she is, does +not possess your gift of taking people off my hands and entertaining +them." + +Honora could think of no reply to this. Her eyes--to which no one could +be indifferent--were riveted on the face of her hostess, and how was the +good lady to guess that her brain was reeling? + +"I was about to say, my dear, that I expect to have a great deal +of--well, of rather difficult company this summer. Next week, for +instance, some prominent women in the Working Girls' Relief Society +are coming, and on July the twenty-third I give a garden party for the +delegates to the Charity Conference in New York. The Japanese Minister +has promised to pay me a visit, and Sir Rupert Grant, who built those +remarkable tuberculosis homes in England, you know, is arriving in +August with his family. Then there are some foreign artists." + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt," exclaimed Honora; "how many interesting people you +see!" + +"Exactly, my dear. And I thought that, in addition to the fact that I +have grown very fond of you, you would be very useful to me here, and +that a summer with me might not be without its advantages. As your aunt +will have you until you are married, which, I may say, without denying +your attractions, is likely to be for some time, I intend to write to +her to-night--with your consent--and ask her to allow you to remain with +me all summer." + +Honora sat transfixed, staring painfully at the big pendant ear-rings. + +"It is so kind of you, Mrs. Holt--" she faltered. + +"I can realize, my dear, that you would wish to get back to your aunt. +The feeling does you infinite credit. But, on the other hand, besides +the advantages which would accrue to you, it might, to put the matter +delicately, be of a little benefit to your relations, who will have to +think of your future." + +"Indeed, it is good of you, but I must go back, Mrs. Holt." + +"Of course," said Mrs. Holt, with a touch of dignity--for ere now people +had left Silverdale before she wished them to--"of course, if you do not +care to stay, that is quite another thing." + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt, don't say that!" cried Honora, her face burning; "I +cannot thank you enough for the pleasure you have given me. If--if +things were different, I would stay with you gladly, although I should +miss my family. But now,--now I feel that I must be with them. I--I am +engaged to be married." + +Honora still remembers the blank expression which appeared on the +countenance of her hostess when she spoke these words. Mrs. Holt's +cheeks twitched, her ear-rings quivered, and her bosom heaved-once. + +"Engaged to be married!" she gasped. + +"Yes," replied our heroine, humbly, "I was going to tell +you--to-morrow." + +"I suppose," said Mrs. Holt, after a silence, "it is to the young man +who was here this afternoon, and whom I did not see. It accounts for his +precipitate departure. But I must say, Honora, since frankness is one of +my faults, that I feel it my duty to write to your aunt and disclaim all +responsibility." + +"It is not to Mr. Erwin," said Honora, meekly; "it is--it is to Mr. +Spence." + +Mrs. Holt seemed to find difficulty in speaking, Her former symptoms, +which Honora had come to recognize as indicative of agitation, returned +with alarming intensity. And when at length her voice made itself heard, +it was scarcely recognizable. + +"You are engaged--to--Howard Spence?" + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt," exclaimed Honora, "it was as great a surprise to +me--believe me--as it is to you." + +But even the knowledge that they shared a common amazement did not +appear, at once, to assuage Mrs. Holt's emotions. + +"Do you love him?" she demanded abruptly. + +Whereupon Honora burst into tears. + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt," she sobbed, "how can you ask?" + +From this time on the course of events was not precisely logical. Mrs. +Holt, setting in abeyance any ideas she may have had about the affair, +took Honora in her arms, and against that ample bosom was sobbed out the +pent-up excitement and emotion of an extraordinary day. + +"There, there, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, stroking the dark hair, +"I should not have asked you that-forgive me." And the worthy lady, +quivering with sympathy now, remembered the time of her own engagement +to Joshua. And the fact that the circumstances of that event differed +somewhat from those of the present--in regularity, at least, increased +rather than detracted from Mrs. Holt's sudden access of tenderness. The +perplexing questions as to the probable result of such a marriage were +swept away by a flood of feeling. "There, there, my dear, I did not mean +to be harsh. What you told me was such a shock--such a surprise, and +marriage is such a grave and sacred thing." + +"I know it," sobbed Honora. + +"And you are very young." + +"Yes, Mrs. Holt." + +"And it happened in my house." + +"No," said Honora, "it happened--near the golf course." + +Mrs. Holt smiled, and wiped her eyes. + +"I mean, my dear, that I shall always feel responsible for bringing you +together---for your future happiness. That is a great deal. I could have +wished that you both had taken longer to reflect, but I hope with all my +heart that you will be happy." + +Honora lifted up a tear-stained face. + +"He said it was because I was going away that--that he spoke," she said. +"Oh, Mrs. Holt, I knew that you would be kind about it." + +"Of course I am kind about it, my dear," said Mrs. Holt. "As I told you, +I have grown to have an affection for you. I feel a little as though you +belonged to me. And after this--this event, I expect to see a great deal +of you. Howard Spence's mother was a very dear friend of mine. I was one +of the first who knew her when she came to New York, from Troy, a widow, +to educate her son. She was a very fine and a very courageous woman." +Mrs. Holt paused a moment. "She hoped that Howard would be a lawyer." + +"A lawyer!" Honora repeated. + +"I lost sight of him for several years," continued Mrs. Holt, "but +before I invited him here I made some inquiries about him from friends +of mine in the financial world. I find that he is successful for so +young a man, and well thought of. I have no doubt he will make a +good husband, my dear, although I could wish he were not on the Stock +Exchange. And I hope you will make him happy." + +Whereupon the good lady kissed Honora, and dismissed her to dress for +dinner. + +"I shall write to your aunt at once," she said. + + ........................ + +Requited love, unsettled condition that it is supposed to bring, did +not interfere with Howard Spence's appetite at dinner. His spirits, as +usual, were of the best, and from time to time Honora was aware of his +glance. Then she lowered her eyes. She sat as in a dream; and, try as +she might, her thoughts would not range themselves. She seemed to see +him but dimly, to hear what he said faintly; and it conveyed nothing to +her mind. + +This man was to be her husband! Over and over she repeated it to +herself. His name was Howard Spence, and he was on the highroad to +riches and success, and she was to live in New York. Ten days before he +had not existed for her. She could not bring herself to believe that he +existed now. Did she love him? How could she love him, when she did not +realize him? One thing she knew, that she had loved him that morning. + +The fetters of her past life were broken, and this she would not +realize. She had opened the door of the cage for what? These were the +fragments of thoughts that drifted through her mind like tattered clouds +across an empty sky after a storm. Peter Erwin appeared to her more than +once, and he was strangely real. But he belonged to the past. Course +succeeded course, and she talked subconsciously to Mr. Holt and +Joshua--such is the result of feminine training. + +After dinner she stood on the porch. The rain had ceased, a cool damp +breeze shook the drops from the leaves, and the stars were shining. +Presently, at the sound of a step behind her, she started. He was +standing at her shoulder. + +"Honora!" he said. + +She did not move. + +"Honora, I haven't seen you--alone--since morning. It seems like a +thousand years. Honora?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you mean it? + +"Did I mean what?" + +"When you said you'd marry me." His voice trembled a little. "I've been +thinking of nothing but you all day. You're not--sorry? You haven't +changed your mind?" + +She shook her head. + +"At dinner when you wouldn't look at me, and this afternoon--" + +"No, I'm not sorry," she said, cutting him short. "I'm not sorry." + +He put his arm about her with an air that was almost apologetic. And, +seeing that she did not resist, he drew her to him and kissed her. +Suddenly, unaccountably to her, she clung to him. + +"You love me!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," she whispered, "but I am tired. I--I am going upstairs, Howard. I +am tired." + +He kissed her again. + +"I can't believe it!" he said. "I'll make you a queen. And we'll be +married in the autumn, Honora." He nodded boyishly towards the open +windows of the library. "Shall I tell them?" he asked. "I feel like +shouting it. I can't hold on much longer. I wonder what the old lady +will say!" + +Honora disengaged herself from his arms and fled to the screen door. As +she opened it, she turned and smiled back at him. + +"Mrs. Holt knows already," she said. + +And catching her skirt, she flew quickly up the stairs. + + + + + +BOOK II. Volume 3. + + + +CHAPTER I. SO LONG AS YE BOTH SHALL LIVE! + +It was late November. And as Honora sat at the window of the +drawing-room of the sleeping car, life seemed as fantastic and unreal as +the moss-hung Southern forest into which she stared. She was happy, as +a child is happy who is taken on an excursion into the unknown. The +monotony of existence was at last broken, and riven the circumscribing +walls. Limitless possibilities lay ahead. + +The emancipation had not been without its pangs of sorrow, and there +were moments of retrospection--as now. She saw herself on Uncle Tom's +arm, walking up the aisle of the old church. How many Sundays of her +life had she sat watching a shaft of sunlight strike across the stone +pillars of its gothic arches! She saw, in the chancel, tall and grave +and pale, Peter Erwin standing beside the man with the flushed face who +was to be her husband. She heard again the familiar voice of Dr. Ewing +reciting the words of that wonderful introduction. At other weddings she +had been moved. Why was her own so unrealizable? + + "Honora, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live + together after God's ordinance in the holy state of Matrimony? Wilt + thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness + and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, + so long as ye both shall live?" + +She had promised. And they were walking out of the church, facing the +great rose window with its blended colours, and the vaults above were +ringing now with the volume of an immortal march. + +After that an illogical series of events and pictures passed before +her. She was in a corner of the carriage, her veil raised, gazing at +her husband, who had kissed her passionately. He was there beside her, +looking extremely well in his top hat and frock-coat, with a white +flower in his buttonhole. He was the representative of the future she +had deliberately chosen. And yet, by virtue of the strange ceremony +through which they had passed, he seemed to have changed. In her attempt +to seize upon a reality she looked out of the window. They were just +passing the Hanbury mansion in Wayland Square, and her eyes fell upon +the playroom windows under the wide cornice; and she wondered whether +the doll's house were still in its place, its mute inhabitants waiting +to be called by the names she had given them, and quickened into life +once more. + +Next she recalled the arrival at the little house that had been her +home, summer and winter, for so many years of her life. A red and white +awning, stretching up the length of the walk which once had run beside +the tall pear trees, gave it an unrecognizable, gala air. Long had +it stood there, patient, unpretentious, content that the great things +should pass it by! And now, modest still, it had been singled out from +amongst its neighbours and honoured. Was it honoured? It seemed to +Honora, so fanciful this day, that its unwonted air of festival was +unnatural. Why should the hour of departure from such a harbour of peace +be celebrated? + +She was standing beside her husband in the little parlour, while +carriage doors slammed in the dusk outside; while one by one--a pageant +of the past which she was leaving forever the friends of her childhood +came and went. Laughter and tears and kisses! And then, in no time at +all, she found herself changing for the journey in the "little house +under the hill." There, locked up in the little desk Cousin Eleanor had +given her long ago, was the unfinished manuscript of that novel written +at fever heat during those summer days in which she had sought to escape +from a humdrum existence. And now--she had escaped. Aunt Mary, helpful +under the most trying circumstances, was putting her articles in a +bag, the initials on which she did not recognize--H. L. S.--Honora +Leffingwell Spence; while old Catherine, tearful and inefficient, knelt +before her, fumbling at her shoes. Honora, bending over, took the face +of the faithful old servant and kissed it. + +"Don't feel badly, Catherine," she said; "I'll be coming back often to +see you, and you will be coming to see me." + +"Will ye, darlint? The blessing of God be on you for those words--and +you to be such a fine lady! It always was a fine lady ye were, with such +a family and such a bringin' up. And now ye've married a rich man, as is +right and proper. If it's rich as Croesus he was, he'd be none too good +for you." + +"Catherine," said Aunt Mary, reprovingly, "what ideas you put into the +child's head!" + +"Sure, Miss Mary," cried Catherine, "it's always the great lady she was, +and she a wee bit of a thing. And wasn't it yerself, Miss Mary, that +dressed her like a princess?" + +Then came the good-bys--the real ones. Uncle Tom, always the friend of +young people, was surrounded by a group of bridesmaids in the hall. +She clung to him. And Peter, who had the carriage ready. What would her +wedding have been without Peter? As they drove towards the station, his +was the image that remained persistently in her mind, bareheaded on the +sidewalk in the light of the carriage lamps. The image of struggle. + +She had married Prosperity. A whimsical question, that shocked her, +irresistibly presented itself: was it not Prosperity that she had +promised to love, honour, and obey? + +It must not be thought that Honora was by any means discontented with +her Prosperity. He was new--that was all. Howard looked new. But she +remembered that he had always looked new; such was one of his greatest +charms. In the long summer days since she had bade him good-by on her +way through New York from Silverdale, Honora had constructed him: he was +perpetual yet sophisticated Youth; he was Finance and Fashion; he was +Power in correctly cut clothes. And when he had arrived in St. Louis to +play his part in the wedding festivities, she had found her swan a swan +indeed--he was all that she had dreamed of him. And she had tingled with +pride as she introduced him to her friends, or gazed at him across the +flower-laden table as he sat beside Edith Hanbury at the bridesmaids' +dinner in Wayland Square. + +The wedding ceremony had somehow upset her opinion of him, but Honora +regarded this change as temporary. Julius Caesar or George Washington +himself must have been somewhat ridiculous as bridegrooms: and she had +the sense to perceive that her own agitations as a bride were partly +responsible. No matter how much a young girl may have trifled with that +electric force in the male sex known as the grand passion, she shrinks +from surrendering herself to its dominion. Honora shrank. He made love +to her on the way to the station, and she was terrified. He actually +forgot to smoke cigarettes. What he said was to the effect that he +possessed at last the most wonderful and beautiful woman in the world, +and she resented the implication of possession. + +Nevertheless, in the glaring lights of the station, her courage and her +pride in him revived, and he became again a normal and a marked man. +Although the sex may resent it, few women are really indifferent to +clothes, and Howard's well-fitting check suit had the magic touch of the +metropolis. His manner matched his garments. Obsequious porters grasped +his pig-skin bag, and seized Honora's; the man at the gate inclined his +head as he examined their tickets, and the Pullman conductor himself +showed them their stateroom, and plainly regarded them as important +people far from home. Howard had the cosmopolitan air. He gave the man +a dollar, and remarked that the New Orleans train was not exactly the +Chicago and New York Limited. + +"Not by a long shot," agreed the conductor, as he went out, softly +closing the door behind him. + +Whereupon the cosmopolitan air dropped from Mr. Howard Spence, not +gracefully, and he became once more that superfluous and awkward and +utterly banal individual, the husband. + +"Let's go out and walk on the platform until the train starts," +suggested Honora, desperately. "Oh, Howard, the shades are up! I'm sure +I saw some one looking in!" + +He laughed. But there was a light in his eyes that frightened her, and +she deemed his laughter out of place. Was he, after all, an utterly +different man than what she had thought him? Still laughing, he held to +her wrist with one hand, and with the other pulled down the shades. + +"This is good enough for me," he said. "At last--at last," he whispered, +"all the red tape is over, and I've got you to myself! Do you love me +just a little, Honora?" + +"Of course I do," she faltered, still struggling, her face burning as +from a fire. + +"Then what's the matter?" he demanded. + +"I don't know--I want air. Howard, please let me go. It's-it's so hot +inhere. You must let me go." + +Her release, she felt afterwards, was due less to a physical than a +mental effort. She seemed suddenly to have cowed him, and his resistance +became enfeebled. She broke from him, and opened the door, and reached +the cement platform and the cold air. When he joined her, there was +something jokingly apologetic about his manner, and he was smoking a +cigarette; and she could not help thinking that she would have respected +him more if he had held her. + +"Women beat me," he said. "They're the most erratic stock in the +market." + +It is worthy of remark how soon the human, and especially the feminine +brain adjusts itself to new conditions. In a day or two life became real +again, or rather romantic. + +For the American husband in his proper place is an auxiliary who makes +all things possible. His ability to "get things done," before it +ceases to be a novelty, is a quality to be admired. Honora admired. An +intimacy--if the word be not too strong--sprang up between them. They +wandered through the quaint streets of New Orleans, that most foreign of +American cities, searching out the tumbledown French houses; and Honora +was never tired of imagining the romances and tragedies which must have +taken place in them. The new scenes excited her,--the quaint cafes with +their delicious, peppery Creole cooking,--and she would sit talking +for a quarter of an hour at a time with Alphonse, who outdid himself to +please the palate of a lady with such allure. He called her "Madame"; +but well he knew, this student of human kind, that the title had not +been of long duration. + +Madame came from New York, without doubt? such was one of his questions, +as he stood before them in answer to Howard's summons, rubbing his +hands. And Honora, with a little thrill, acknowledged the accuracy +of his guess. There was no dish of Alphonse's they did not taste. And +Howard smilingly paid the bills. He was ecstatically proud of his wife, +and although he did justice to the cooking, he cared but little for +the mysterious courtyards, the Spanish buildings, and the novels of Mr. +George W. Cable, which Honora devoured when she was too tired to walk +about. He followed her obediently to the battle field of New Orleans, +and admired as obediently the sunset, when the sky was all silver-green +through the magnolias, and the spreading live oaks hung with Spanish +moss, and a silver bar lay upon the Father of Waters. Honora, with +beating heart and flushed cheeks, felt these things: Howard felt them +through her and watched--not the sunset--but the flame it lighted in her +eyes. + +He left her but twice a day, and then only for brief periods. He even +felt a joy when she ventured to complain. + +"I believe you care more for those horrid stocks than for me," she said. +"I--I am just a novelty." + +His answer, since they were alone in their sitting-room, was obvious. + +"Howard," she cried, "how mean of you! Now I'll have to do my hair all +over again. I've got such a lot of it--you've no idea how difficult it +is." + +"You bet I have!" he declared meaningly, and Honora blushed. + +His pleasure of possession was increased when people turned to look at +her on the street or in the dining room--to think that this remarkable +creature was in reality his wife! Nor did the feeling grow less intense +with time, being quite the same when they arrived at a fashionable +resort in the Virginia mountains, on their way to New York. For such +were the exactions of his calling that he could spare but two weeks for +his honeymoon. + +Honora's interest in her new surroundings was as great, and the sight of +those towering ridges against the soft blue of the autumn skies inspired +her. It was Indian summer here, the tang of wood smoke was in the air; +in the valleys--as they drove--the haze was shot with the dust of gold, +and through the gaps they looked across vast, unexplored valleys to +other distant, blue-stained ridges that rose between them and the +sunset. Honora took an infinite delight in the ramshackle cabins beside +the red-clay roads, in the historic atmosphere of the ancient houses +and porticoes of the Warm Springs, where the fathers of the Republic had +come to take the waters. And one day, when a north wind had scattered +the smoke and swept the sky, Howard followed her up the paths to the +ridge's crest, where she stood like a Victory, her garments blowing, +gazing off over the mighty billows to the westward. Howard had never +seen a Victory, but his vision of domesticity was untroubled. + +Although it was late in the season, the old-fashioned, rambling hotel +was well filled, and people interested Honora as well as scenery--a +proof of her human qualities. She chided Howard because he, too, was not +more socially inclined. + +"How can you expect me to be--now?" he demanded. + +She told him he was a goose, although secretly admitting the justice of +his defence. He knew four or five men in the hotel, with whom he talked +stocks while waiting for Honora to complete her toilets; and he gathered +from two of these, who were married, that patience was a necessary +qualification in a husband. One evening they introduced their wives. +Later, Howard revealed their identity--or rather that of the husbands. + +"Bowker is one of the big men in the Faith Insurance Company, and Tyler +is president of the Gotham Trust." He paused to light a cigarette, and +smiled at her significantly. "If you can dolly the ladies along once in +a while, Honora, it won't do any harm," he added. "You have a way with +you, you know,--when you want to." + +Honora grew scarlet. + +"Howard!" she exclaimed. + +He looked somewhat shamefaced. + +"Well," he said, "I was only joking. Don't take it seriously. But it +doesn't do any harm to be polite." + +"I am always polite," she answered a little coldly. + +Honeymoons, after all, are matters of conjecture, and what proportion of +them contain disenchantments will never be known. Honora lay awake for a +long time that night, and the poignant and ever recurring remembrance +of her husband's remark sent the blood to her face like a flame. +Would Peter, or George Hanbury, or any of the intimate friends of her +childhood have said such a thing? + +A new and wistful feeling of loneliness was upon her. For some days, +with a certain sense of isolation and a tinge of envy which she +would not acknowledge, she had been watching a group of well-dressed, +clean-looking people galloping off on horseback or filling the +six-seated buckboards. They were from New York--that she had discovered; +and they did not mix with the others in the hotel. She had thought it +strange that Howard did not know them, but for a reason which she did +not analyze she hesitated to ask him who they were. They had rather +a rude manner of staring--especially the men--and the air of deriving +infinite amusement from that which went on about them. One of them, a +young man with a lisp who was addressed by the singular name of "Toots," +she had overheard demanding as she passed: who the deuce was the tall +girl with the dark hair and the colour? Wherever she went, she was aware +of them. It was foolish, she knew, but their presence seemed--in the +magnitude which trifles are wont to assume in the night-watches--of late +to have poisoned her pleasure. + +Enlightenment as to the identity of these disturbing persons came, the +next day, from an unexpected source. Indeed, from Mrs. Tyler. She loved +brides, she said, and Honora seemed to her such a sweet bride. It was +Mrs. Tyler's ambition to become thin (which was hitching her wagon to +a star with a vengeance), and she invited our heroine to share her +constitutional on the porch. Honora found the proceeding in the nature +of an ordeal, for Mrs. Tyler's legs were short, her frizzled hair very +blond, and the fact that it was natural made it seem, somehow, all the +more damning. + +They had scarcely begun to walk before Honora, with a sense of dismay +of which she was ashamed, beheld some of the people who had occupied her +thoughts come out of the door and form a laughing group at the end +of the porch. She could not rid herself of the feeling that they were +laughing at her. She tried in vain to drive them from her mind, to +listen to Mrs. Tyler's account of how she, too, came as a bride to +New York from some place with a classical name, and to the advice that +accompanied the narration. The most conspicuous young woman in the +group, in riding clothes, was seated on the railing, with the toe of +one boot on the ground. Her profile was clear-cut and her chestnut hair +tightly knotted behind under her hat. Every time they turned, this young +woman stared at Honora amusedly. + +"Nasty thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Tyler, suddenly and unexpectedly in the +midst of a description of the delights of life in the metropolis. + +"Who?" asked Honora. + +"That young Mrs. Freddy Maitland, sitting on the rail. She's the rudest +woman in New York." + +A perversity of spirit which she could not control prompted Honora to +reply: + +"Why, I think she is so good-looking, Mrs. Tyler. And she seems to have +so much individuality and independence." + +"There!" cried Mrs. Tyler, triumphantly. "Once--not so very long ago--I +was just as inexperienced as you, my dear. She belongs to that horribly +fast set with which no self-respecting woman would be seen. It's an +outrage that they should come to a hotel like this and act as though it +belonged to them. She knows me quite as well as I know her, but when I +am face to face she acts as though I was air." + +Honora could not help thinking that this, at least, required some +imagination on Mrs. Maitland's part. Mrs. Tyler had stopped for breath. + +"I have been introduced to her twice," she continued, "but of course I +wouldn't speak to her. The little man with the lisp, next to her, who is +always acting in that silly way, they call Toots Cuthbert. He gets his +name in the newspapers by leading cotillons in New York and Newport. And +the tall, slim, blond one, with the green hat and the feather in it, is +Jimmy Wing. He's the son of James Wing, the financier." + +"I went to school at Sutcliffe with his sister," said Honora. + +It seemed to Honora that Mrs. Tyler's manner underwent a change. + +"My dear," she exclaimed, "did you go to Sutcliffe? What a wonderful +school it is! I fully intend to send my daughter Louise there." + +An almost irresistible desire came over Honora to run away. She excused +herself instead, and hurried back towards her room. On the way she met +Howard in the corridor, and he held a telegram in his hand. + +"I've got some bad news, Honora," he said. "That is, bad from the point +of view of our honeymoon. Sid Dallam is swamped with business, and wants +me in New York. I'm afraid we've got to cut it short." + +To his astonishment she smiled. + +"Oh, I'm so glad, Howard," she cried. "I--I don't like this place nearly +so well as New Orleans. There are--so many people here." + +He looked relieved, and patted her on the arm. + +"We'll go to-night, old girl," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER II. "STAFFORD PARK" + +There is a terrifying aspect of all great cities. Rome, with its +leviathan aqueducts, its seething tenements clinging to the hills, its +cruel, shining Palatine, must have overborne the provincial traveller +coming up from Ostia. And Honora, as she stood on the deck of the +ferry-boat, approaching New York for the second time in her life, could +not overcome a sense of oppression. It was on a sharp December morning, +and the steam of the hurrying craft was dazzling white in the early sun. +Above and beyond the city rose, overpowering, a very different city, +somehow, than that her imagination had first drawn. Each of that +multitude of vast towers seemed a fortress now, manned by Celt and Hun +and, Israelite and Saxon, captained by Titans. And the strife between +them was on a scale never known in the world before, a strife with +modern arms and modern methods and modern brains, in which there was no +mercy. + +Hidden somewhere amidst those bristling miles of masonry to the +northward of the towers was her future home. Her mind dwelt upon it now, +for the first time, and tried to construct it. Once she had spoken to +Howard of it, but he had smiled and avoided discussion. What would it be +like to have a house of one's own in New York? A house on Fifth Avenue, +as her girl friends had said when they laughingly congratulated her and +begged her to remember that they came occasionally to New York. Those +of us who, like Honora, believe in Providence, do not trouble ourselves +with mere matters of dollars and cents. This morning, however, the huge +material towers which she gazed upon seemed stronger than Providence, +and she thought of her husband. Was his fibre sufficiently tough to +become eventually the captain of one of those fortresses, to compete +with the Maitlands and the Wings, and others she knew by name, calmly +and efficiently intrenched there? + +The boat was approaching the slip, and he came out to her from the +cabin, where he had been industriously reading the stock reports, his +newspapers thrust into his overcoat pocket. + +"There's no place like New York, after all," he declared, and added, +"when the market's up. We'll go to a hotel for breakfast." + +For some reason she found it difficult to ask the question on her lips. + +"I suppose," she said hesitatingly, "I suppose we couldn't go--home, +Howard. You--you have never told me where we are to live." + +As before, the reference to their home seemed to cause him amusement. He +became very mysterious. + +"Couldn't you pass away a few hours shopping this morning, my dear?" + +"Oh, yes," replied Honora. + +"While I gather in a few dollars," he continued. "I'll meet you at +lunch, and then we'll go-home." + +As the sun mounted higher, her spirits rose with it. New York, or that +strip of it which is known to the more fortunate of human beings, is +a place to raise one's spirits on a sparkling day in early winter. And +Honora, as she drove in a hansom from shop to shop, felt a new sense of +elation and independence. She was at one, now, with the prosperity that +surrounded her: her purse no longer limited, her whims existing only to +be gratified. Her reflections on this recently attained state alternated +with alluring conjectures on the place of abode of which Howard had made +such a mystery. Where was it? And why had he insisted, before showing it +to her, upon waiting until afternoon? + +Newly arrayed in the most becoming of grey furs, she met him at that +hitherto fabled restaurant which in future days--she reflected--was +to become so familiar--Delmonico's. Howard was awaiting her in the +vestibule; and it was not without a little quiver of timidity and +excitement and a consequent rise of colour that she followed the waiter +to a table by the window. She felt as though the assembled fashionable +world was staring at her, but presently gathered courage enough to gaze +at the costumes of the women and the faces of the men. Howard, with a +sang froid of which she felt a little proud, ordered a meal for which he +eventually paid a fraction over eight dollars. What would Aunt Mary have +said to such extravagance? He produced a large bunch of violets. + +"With Sid Dallam's love," he said, as she pinned them on her gown. +"I tried to get Lily--Mrs. Sid--for lunch, but you never can put your +finger on her. She'll amuse you, Honora." + +"Oh, Howard, it's so much pleasanter lunching alone to-day. I'm glad you +didn't. And then afterwards--?" + +He refused, however, to be drawn. When they emerged she did not hear the +directions he gave the cabman, and it was not until they turned into +a narrow side street, which became dingier and dingier as they bumped +their way eastward, that she experienced a sudden sinking sensation. + +"Howard!" she cried. "Where are you going? You must tell me." + +"One of the prettiest suburbs in New Jersey--Rivington," he said. "Wait +till you see the house." + +"Suburbs! Rivington! New Jersey!" The words swam before Honora's eyes, +like the great signs she had seen printed in black letters on the tall +buildings from the ferry that morning. She had a sickening sensation, +and the odour of his cigarette in the cab became unbearable. By an +ironic trick of her memory, she recalled that she had told the clerks in +the shops where she had made her purchases that she would send them her +address later. How different that address from what she had imagined it! + +"It's in the country!" she exclaimed. + +To lunch at Delmonico's for eight dollars and live in Rivington + +Howard appeared disturbed. More than that, he appeared astonished, +solicitous. + +"Why, what's the matter, Honora?" he asked. "I thought you'd like it. +It's a brand new house, and I got Lily Dallam to furnish it. She's a +wonder on that sort of thing, and I told her to go ahead--within reason. +I talked it over with your aunt and uncle, and they agreed with me you'd +much rather live out there for a few years than in a flat." + +"In a flat!" repeated Honora, with a shudder. + +"Certainly," he said, flicking his ashes out of the window. "Who do +you think I am, at my age? Frederick T. Maitland, or the owner of the +Brougham Building?" + +"But--Howard," she protested, "why didn't you talk it over with me?" + +"Because I wanted to surprise you," he replied. "I spent a month and +a half looking for that house. And you never seemed to care. It didn't +occur to me that you would care--for the first few years," he added, and +there was in his voice a note of reproach that did not escape her. "You +never seemed inclined to discuss business with me, Honora. I didn't +think you were interested. Dallam and I are making money. We expect +some day to be on Easy Street--so to speak--or Fifth Avenue. Some day, +I hope, you can show some of these people the road. But just now what +capital we have has to go into the business." + +Strangely enough, in spite of the intensity of her disappointment, she +felt nearer to her husband in that instant than at any time since their +marriage. Honora, who could not bear to hurt any one's feelings, seized +his hand repentantly. Tears started in her eyes. + +"Oh, Howard, I must seem to you very ungrateful," she cried. "It was +such a--such a surprise. I have never lived in the country, and I'm sure +it will be delightful--and much more healthful than the city. Won't you +forgive me?" + +If he had known as much about the fluctuations of the feminine +temperament as of those of stocks, the ease with which Honora executed +this complete change of front might have disturbed him. Howard, as will +be seen, possessed that quality which is loosely called good nature. +In marriage, he had been told (and was ready to believe), the wind blew +where it listed; and he was a wise husband who did not spend his time in +inquiry as to its sources. He kissed her before he helped her out of the +carriage. Again they crossed the North River, and he led her through the +wooden ferry house on the New Jersey side to where the Rivington train +was standing beside a platform shed. + +There was no parlour car. Men and women--mostly women--with bundles +were already appropriating the seats and racks, and Honora found herself +wondering how many of these individuals were her future neighbours. That +there might have been an hysterical element in the lively anticipation +she exhibited during the journey did not occur to Howard Spence. + +After many stops,--in forty-two minutes, to be exact, the brakeman +shouted out the name of the place which was to be her home, and of which +she had been ignorant that morning. They alighted at an old red railroad +station, were seized upon by a hackman in a coonskin coat, and thrust +into a carriage that threatened to fall to pieces on the frozen macadam +road. They passed through a village in which Honora had a glimpse of +the drug store and grocery and the Grand Army Hall; then came detached +houses of all ages in one and two-acre plots some above the road, for +the country was rolling; a very attractive church of cream-coloured +stone, and finally the carriage turned sharply to the left under an +archway on which were the words "Stafford Park," and stopped at a very +new curbstone in a very new gutter on the right. + +"Here we are!" cried Howard, as he fished in his trousers pockets for +money to pay the hackman. + +Honora looked around her. Stafford Park consisted of a wide centre-way +of red gravel, not yet packed, with an island in its middle planted with +shrubbery and young trees, the bare branches of which formed a black +tracery against the orange-red of the western sky. On both sides of this +centre-way were concrete walks, with cross-walks from the curbs to +the houses. There were six of these--three on each side--standing on +a raised terrace and about two hundred feet apart. Beyond them, to +the northward, Stafford Park was still a wilderness of second-growth +hardwood, interspersed with a few cedars. + +Honora's house, the first on the right, was exactly like the other five. +If we look at it through her eyes, we shall find this similarity +its main drawback. If we are a little older, however, and more +sophisticated, we shall suspect the owner of Stafford Park and his +architect of a design to make it appear imposing. It was (indefinite +and much-abused term) Colonial; painted white; and double, with dormer +windows of diagonal wood-surrounded panes in the roof. There was a +large pillared porch on its least private side--namely, the front. A +white-capped maid stood in the open doorway and smiled at Honora as she +entered. + +Honora walked through the rooms. There was nothing intricate about the +house; it was as simple as two times four, and really too large for her +and Howard. Her presents were installed, the pictures and photograph +frames and chairs, even Mr. Isham's dining-room table and Cousin +Eleanor's piano. The sight of these, and of the engraving which Aunt +Mary had sent on, and which all her childhood had hung over her bed in +the little room at home, brought the tears once more to her eyes. But +she forced them back bravely. + +These reflections were interrupted by the appearance of the little maid +announcing that tea was ready, and bringing her two letters. One was +from Susan Holt, and the other, written in a large, slanting, and +angular handwriting, was signed Lily Dallam. It was dated from New York. + +"My dear Honora," it ran, "I feel that I must call you so, for Sid and +Howard, in addition to being partners, are such friends. I hesitated so +long about furnishing your house, my dear, but Howard insisted, and said +he wished to surprise you. I am sending you this line to welcome you, +and to tell you that I have arranged with the furniture people to take +any or all things back that you do not like, and exchange them. After +all, they will be out of date in a few years, and Howard and Sid will +have made so much money by that time, I hope, that I shall be able to +leave my apartment, which is dear, and you will be coming to town." + +Honora laid down the sheet, and began to tidy her hair before the glass +of the highly polished bureau in her room. A line in Susan's letter +occurred to her: "Mother hopes to see you soon. She asked me to tell you +to buy good things which will last you all your life, and says that it +pays." + +The tea-table was steaming in the parlour in front of the wood fire in +the blue tiled fireplace. The oak floor reflected its gleam, and that of +the electric lights; the shades were drawn; a slight odour of steam heat +pervaded the place. Howard, smoking a cigarette, was reclining on a +sofa that evidently was not made for such a purpose, reading the evening +newspapers. + +"Well, Honora," he said, as she took her seat behind the tea-table, "you +haven't told me how you like it. Pretty cosey, eh? And enough spare room +to have people out over Sundays." + +"Oh, Howard, I do like it," she cried, in a desperate attempt--which +momentarily came near succeeding to convince herself that she could +have desired nothing more. "It's so sweet and clean and new--and all our +own." + +She succeeded, at any rate, in convincing Howard. In certain matters, he +was easily convinced. + +"I thought you'd be pleased when you saw it, my dear," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE GREAT UNATTACHED + +It was the poet Cowper who sang of domestic happiness as the only bliss +that has survived the Fall. One of the burning and unsolved questions of +to-day is,--will it survive the twentieth century? Will it survive +rapid transit and bridge and Woman's Rights, the modern novel and modern +drama, automobiles, flying machines, and intelligence offices; hotel, +apartment, and suburban life, or four homes, or none at all? Is it a +weed that will grow anywhere, in a crevice between two stones in the +city? Or is it a plant that requires tender care and the water of +self-sacrifice? Above all, is it desirable? + +Our heroine, as may have been suspected, has an adaptable temperament. +Her natural position is upright, but like the reed, she can bend +gracefully, and yields only to spring back again blithely. Since this +chronicle regards her, we must try to look at existence through her +eyes, and those of some of her generation and her sex: we must give +the four years of her life in Rivington the approximate value which +she herself would have put upon it--which is a chapter. We must regard +Rivington as a kind of purgatory, not solely a place of departed +spirits, but of those which have not yet arrived; as one of the many +temporary abodes of the Great Unattached. + +No philosophical writer has as yet made the attempt to define the +change--as profound as that of the tadpole to the frog--between the +lover and the husband. An author of ideals would not dare to proclaim +that this change is inevitable: some husbands--and some wives are +fortunate enough to escape it, but it is not unlikely to happen in +our modern civilization. Just when it occurred in Howard Spence it +is difficult to say, but we have got to consider him henceforth as +a husband; one who regards his home as a shipyard rather than the +sanctuary of a goddess; as a launching place, the ways of which are +carefully greased, that he may slide off to business every morning with +as little friction as possible, and return at night to rest undisturbed +in a comfortable berth, to ponder over the combat of the morrow. + +It would be inspiring to summon the vision of Honora, in rustling +garments, poised as the figurehead of this craft, beckoning him on to +battle and victory. Alas! the launching happened at that grimmest and +most unromantic of hours-ten minutes of eight in the morning. There +was a period, indeterminate, when she poured out his coffee with wifely +zeal; a second period when she appeared at the foot of the stairs to +kiss him as he was going out of the door; a third when, clad in an +attractive dressing-gown, she waved him good-by from the window; and +lastly, a fourth, which was only marked by an occasional protest on his +part, when the coffee was weak. + +"I'd gladly come down, Howard, if it seemed to make the least difference +to you," said Honora. "But all you do is to sit with your newspaper +propped up and read the stock reports, and growl when I ask you a polite +question. You've no idea how long it makes the days out here, to get up +early." + +"It seems to me you put in a good many days in town," he retorted. + +"Surely you don't expect me to spend all my time in Rivington!" she +cried reproachfully; "I'd die. And then I am always having to get new +cooks for you, because they can't make Hollandaise sauce like hotel +chefs. Men have no idea how hard it is to keep house in the country,--I +just wish you had to go to those horrid intelligence offices. You +wouldn't stay in Rivington ten days. And all the good cooks drink." + +Howard, indeed, with the aid of the village policeman, had had to expel +from his kitchen one imperious female who swore like a dock hand, +and who wounded Honora to the quick by remarking, as she departed in +durance, that she had always lived with ladies and gentlemen and people +who were somebody. The incident had tended further to detract from the +romance of the country. + +It is a mistake to suppose that the honeymoon disappears below the +horizon with the rapidity of a tropical sun. And there is generally an +afterglow. In spite of cooks and other minor clouds, in spite of visions +of metropolitan triumphs (not shattered, but put away in camphor), life +was touched with a certain novelty. There was a new runabout and a horse +which Honora could drive herself, and she went to the station to meet +her husband. On mild Saturday and Sunday afternoons they made long +excursions, into the country--until the golf season began, when the +lessons begun at Silverdale were renewed. But after a while certain male +competitors appeared, and the lessons were discontinued. Sunday, after +his pile of newspapers had religiously been disposed of, became a field +day. Indeed, it is impossible, without a twinge of pity, to behold +Howard taking root in Rivington, for we know that sooner or later he +will be dug up and transplanted. The soil was congenial. He played poker +on the train with the Rivington husbands, and otherwise got along with +them famously. And it was to him an enigma--when occasionally he allowed +his thoughts to dwell upon such trivial matters--why Honora was not +equally congenial with the wives. + +There were, no doubt, interesting people in Rivington about whom many +stories could be written: people with loves and fears and anxieties and +joys, with illnesses and recoveries, with babies, but few grandchildren. +There were weddings at the little church, and burials; there were +dances at the golf club; there were Christmas trees, where most of the +presents--like Honora's--came from afar, from family centres formed in a +social period gone by; there were promotions for the heads of families, +and consequent rejoicings over increases of income; there were movings; +there were--inevitable in the ever grinding action of that remorseless +law, the survival of the fittest--commercial calamities, and the +heartrending search for new employment. + +Rivington called upon Honora in vehicles of all descriptions, in +proportion to the improvidence or prosperity of the owners. And Honora +returned the calls, and joined the Sewing Circle, and the Woman's +Luncheon Club, which met for the purpose of literary discussion. In the +evenings there were little dinners of six or eight, where the men talked +business and the women house rent and groceries and gossip and the +cheapest places in New York City to buy articles of the latest fashion. +Some of them had actually built or were building houses that cost as +much as thirty thousand dollars, with the inexplicable intention of +remaining in Rivington the rest of their lives! + +Honora was kind to these ladies. As we know, she was kind to everybody. +She almost allowed two or three of them to hope that they might become +her intimates, and made excursions to New York with them, and lunched in +fashionable restaurants. Their range of discussion included babies and +Robert Browning, the modern novel and the best matinee. It would be +interesting to know why she treated them, on the whole, like travellers +met by chance in a railroad station, from whom she was presently forever +to depart. The time and manner of this departure were matters to be +determined in the future. + +It would be interesting to know, likewise, just at what period the +intention of moving away from Rivington became fixed in Honora's mind. +Honora circumscribed, Honora limited, Honora admitting defeat, and +this chronicle would be finished. The gods exist somewhere, though many +incarnations may, be necessary to achieve their companionship. And no +prison walls loom so high as to appall our heroine's soul. To exchange +one prison for another is in itself something of a feat, and an +argument that the thing may be done again. Neither do the wise ones +beat themselves uselessly against brick or stone. Howard--poor man!--is +fatuous enough to regard a great problem as being settled once and for +all by a marriage certificate and a benediction; and labours under +the delusion that henceforth he may come and go as he pleases, eat his +breakfast in silence, sleep after dinner, and spend his Sundays at the +Rivington Golf Club. It is as well to leave him, at present, in blissful +ignorance of his future. + +Our sympathies, however, must be with Honora, who has paid the price +for heaven, and who discovers that by marriage she has merely joined the +ranks of the Great Unattached. Hitherto it had been inconceivable to her +that any one sufficiently prosperous could live in a city, or near it +and dependent on it, without being socially a part of it. Most momentous +of disillusions! With the exception of the Sidney Dallams and one or two +young brokers who occasionally came out over Sunday, her husband had no +friends in New York. Rivington and the Holt family (incongruous mixture) +formed the sum total of her acquaintance. + +On Monday mornings in particular, if perchance she went to town, the +huge signs which she read across the swamps, of breakfast foods +and other necessaries, seemed, for some reason, best to express her +isolation. Well-dressed, laughing people descended from omnibuses at +the prettier stations, people who seemed all-sufficient to themselves; +people she was sure she should like if only she knew them. Once the +sight of her school friend, Ethel Wing, chatting with a tall young +man, brought up a flood of recollections; again, in a millinery +establishment, she came face to face with the attractive Mrs. Maitland +whom she had seen at Hot Springs. Sometimes she would walk on Fifth +Avenue, watching, with mingled sensations, the procession there. The +colour, the movement, the sensation of living in a world where every +one was fabulously wealthy, was at once a stimulation and a despair. +Brougham after brougham passed, victoria after victoria, in which +beautifully gowned women chatted gayly or sat back, impassive, amidst +the cushions. Some of them, indeed, looked bored, but this did not +mar the general effect of pleasure and prosperity. Even the +people--well-dressed, too--in the hansom cabs were usually animated +and smiling. On the sidewalk athletic, clear-skinned girls passed her, +sometimes with a man, sometimes in groups of two and three, going in and +out of the expensive-looking shops with the large, plate-glass windows. + +All of these women, apparently, had something definite to do, somewhere +to go, some one to meet the very next, minute. They protested to +milliners and dressmakers if they were kept waiting, and even seemed +impatient of time lost if one by chance bumped into them. But Honora had +no imperative appointments. Lily Dallam was almost sure to be out, or +going out immediately, and seemed to have more engagements than any one +in New York. + +"I'm so sorry, my dear," she would say, and add reproachfully: "why +didn't you telephone me you were coming? If you had only let me know we +might have lunched together or gone to the matinee. Now I have promised +Clara Trowbridge to go to a lunch party at her house." + +Mrs. Dallam had a most convincing way of saying such things, and in +spite of one's self put one in the wrong for not having telephoned. +But if indeed Honora telephoned--as she did once or twice in her +innocence--Lily was quite as distressed. + +"My dear, why didn't you let me know last night? Trixy Brent has given +Lula Chandos his box at the Horse Show, and Lula would never, never +forgive me if I backed out." + +Although she lived in an apartment--in a most attractive one, to be +sure--there could be no doubt about it that Lily Dallam was fashionable. +She had a way with her, and her costumes were marvellous. She could have +made her fortune either as a dressmaker or a house decorator, and +she bought everything from "little" men and women whom she discovered +herself. It was a curious fact that all of these small tradespeople +eventually became fashionable, too. Lily was kind to Honora, and gave +her their addresses before they grew to be great and insolent and +careless whether one patronized them or not. + +While we are confessing the trials and weaknesses of our heroine, we +shall have to admit that she read, occasionally, the society columns +of the newspapers. And in this manner she grew to have a certain +familiarity with the doings of those favourites of fortune who had more +delightful engagements than hours in which to fulfil them. So intimate +was Lily Dallam with many of these Olympians that she spoke of them by +their first names, or generally by their nicknames. Some two years after +Honora's marriage the Dallams had taken a house in that much discussed +colony of Quicksands, where sport and pleasure reigned supreme: and more +than once the gown which Mrs. Sidney Dallam had worn to a polo match had +been faithfully described in the public prints, or the dinners which she +had given at the Quicksands Club. One of these dinners, Honora learned, +had been given in honour of Mr. Trixton Brent. + +"You ought to know Trixy, Honora," Mrs. Dallam declared; "he'd be crazy +about you." + +Time passed, however, and Mrs. Dallam made no attempt to bring about +this most desirable meeting. When Honora and Howard went to town to dine +with the Dallams, it was always at a restaurant, a 'partie carree'. Lily +Dallam thought it dull to dine at home, and they went to the theatre +afterwards--invariably a musical comedy. Although Honora did not care +particularly for musical comedies, she always experienced a certain +feverish stimulation which kept her wide awake on the midnight train to +Rivington. Howard had a most exasperating habit of dozing in the corner +of the seat. + +"You are always sleepy when I have anything interesting to talk to you +about," said Honora, "or reading stock reports. I scarcely see anything +at all of you." + +Howard roused himself. + +"Where are we now?" he asked. + +"Oh," cried Honora, "we haven't passed Hydeville. Howard, who is Trixton +Brent?" + +"What about him?" demanded her husband. + +"Nothing--except that he is one of Lily's friends, and she said she +knew--I should like him. I wish you would be more interested in people. +Who is he?" + +"One of the best-known operators in the market," Howard answered, and +his air implied that a lack of knowledge of Mr. Brent was ignorance +indeed; "a daring gambler. He cornered cotton once, and raked in over a +million. He's a sport, too." + +"How old is he?" + +"About forty-three." + +"Is he married?" inquired Honora. + +"He's divorced," said Howard. And she had to be content with so much +of the gentleman's biography, for her husband relapsed into somnolence +again. A few days later she saw a picture of Mr. Brent, in polo costume, +in one of the magazines. She thought him good-looking, and wondered what +kind of a wife he had had. + +Honora, when she went to town for the day, generally could be sure of +finding some one, at least, of the Holt family at home at luncheon time. +They lived still in the same house on Madison Avenue to which Aunt +Mary and Uncle Tom had been invited to breakfast on the day of Honora's +arrival in her own country. It had a wide, brownstone front, with a +basement, and a high flight of steps leading up to the door. Within, +solemnity reigned, and this effect was largely produced by the +prodigiously high ceilings and the black walnut doors and woodwork. +On the second floor, the library where the family assembled was more +cheerful. The books themselves, although in black-walnut cases, and the +sun pouring in, assisted in making this effect. + +Here, indeed, were stability and peace. Here Honora remade the +acquaintance of the young settlement worker, and of the missionary, now +on the Presbyterian Board of Missions. Here she charmed other friends +and allies of the Holt family; and once met, somewhat to her surprise, +two young married women who differed radically from the other guests +of the house. Honora admired their gowns if not their manners; for they +ignored her, and talked to Mrs. Holt about plans for raising money for +the Working Girl's Relief Society. + +"You should join us, my dear," said Mrs. Holt; "I am sure you would be +interested in our work." + +"I'd be so glad to, Mrs. Holt," replied Honora, "if only I didn't live +in the country." + +She came away as usual, feeling of having run into a cul de sac. Mrs. +Holt's house was a refuge, not an outlet; and thither Honora directed +her steps when a distaste for lunching alone or with some of her +Rivington friends in the hateful, selfish gayety of a fashionable +restaurant overcame her; or when her moods had run through a cycle, and +an atmosphere of religion and domesticity became congenial. + +"Howard," she asked unexpectedly one evening, as he sat smoking beside +the blue tiled mantel, "have you got on your winter flannels?" + +"I'll bet a hundred dollars to ten cents," he cried, "that you've been +lunching with Mrs. Holt." + +"I think you're horrid," said Honora. + +Something must be said for her. Domestic virtue, in the face of such +mocking heresy, is exceptionally difficult of attainment. + +Mrs. Holt had not been satisfied with Honora's and Susan's accounts of +the house in Stafford Park. She felt called upon to inspect it. And +for this purpose, in the spring following Honora's marriage, she made +a pilgrimage to Rivington and spent the day. Honora met her at the +station, and the drive homeward was occupied in answering innumerable +questions on the characters, conditions, and modes of life of Honora's +neighbours. + +"Now, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, when they were seated before the fire +after lunch, "I want you to feel that you can come to me for everything. +I must congratulate you and Howard on being sensible enough to start +your married life simply, in the country. I shall never forget the +little house in which Mr. Holt and I began, and how blissfully happy I +was." The good lady reached out and took Honora's hand in her own. "Not +that your deep feeling for your husband will ever change. But men are +more difficult to manage as they grow older, my dear, and the best +of them require a little managing for their own good. And increased +establishments bring added cares and responsibilities. Now that I am +here, I have formed a very fair notion of what it ought to cost you to +live in such a place. And I shall be glad to go over your housekeeping +books with you, and tell you if you are being cheated as I dare say you +are." + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt," Honora faltered, "I--I haven't kept any books. Howard +just pays the bills." + +"You mean to say he hasn't given you any allowance!" cried Mrs. Holt, +aghast. "You don't know what it costs to run this house?" + +"No," said Honora, humbly. "I never thought of it. I have no idea what +Howard's income may be." + +"I'll write to Howard myself--to-night," declared Mrs. Holt. + +"Please don't, Mrs. Holt. I'll--I'll speak to him," said Honora. + +"Very well, then," the good lady agreed, "and I will send you one of +my own books, with my own system, as soon as I get home. It is not your +fault, my dear, it is Howard's. It is little short of criminal of him. +I suppose this is one of the pernicious results of being on the Stock +Exchange. New York is nothing like what it was when I was a girl--the +extravagance by everybody is actually appalling. The whole city is +bent upon lavishness and pleasure. And I am afraid it is very often the +wives, Honora, who take the lead in prodigality. It all tends, my dear, +to loosen the marriage tie--especially this frightful habit of dining in +hotels and restaurants." + +Before she left Mrs. Holt insisted on going over the house from top +to bottom, from laundry to linen closet. Suffice it to say that the +inspection was not without a certain criticism, which must be passed +over. + +"It is a little large, just for you and Howard, my dear," was her final +comment. "But you are wise in providing for the future." + +"For the future?" Honora repeated. + +Mrs. Holt playfully pinched her cheek. + +"When the children arrive, my dear, as I hope they will--soon," she +said, smiling at Honora's colour. "Sometimes it all comes back to me--my +own joy when Joshua was a baby. I was very foolish about him, no doubt. +Annie and Gwendolen tell me so. I wouldn't even let the nurse sit up +with him when he was getting his teeth. Mercy!" she exclaimed, glancing +at the enamelled watch on her gown,--for long practice had enabled her +to tell the time upside down,--"we'll be late for the train, my dear." + +After returning from the station, Honora sat for a long time at her +window, looking out on the park. The afternoon sunlight had the silvery +tinge that comes to it in March; the red gravel of the centre driveway +was very wet, and the grass of the lawns of the houses opposite already +a vivid green; in the back-yards the white clothes snapped from the +lines; and a group of children, followed by nurses with perambulators, +tripped along the strip of sidewalk. + +Why could not she feel the joys and desires of which Mrs. Holt had +spoken? It never had occurred to her until to-day that they were lacking +in her. Children! A home! Why was it that she did not want children? Why +should such a natural longing be absent in her? Her mind went back to +the days of her childhood dolls, and she smiled to think of their large +families. She had always associated marriage with children--until she +got married. And now she remembered that her childhood ideals of the +matrimonial state had been very much, like Mrs. Holt's own experience of +it: Why then had that ideal gradually faded until, when marriage came +to her, it was faint and shadowy indeed? Why were not her spirit and her +hopes enclosed by the walls in which she sat? + +The housekeeping book came from Mrs. Holt the next morning, but Honora +did not mention it to her husband. Circumstances were her excuse: he +had had a hard day on the Exchange, and at such times he showed a marked +disinclination for the discussion of household matters. It was not until +the autumn, in fact, that the subject of finance was mentioned between +them, and after a period during which Howard had been unusually +uncommunicative and morose. Just as electrical disturbances are said +to be in some way connected with sun spots, so Honora learned that a +certain glumness and tendency to discuss expenses on the part of her +husband were synchronous with a depression in the market. + +"I wish you'd learn to go a little slow, Honora," he said one evening. +"The bills are pretty stiff this month. You don't seem to have any idea +of the value of money." + +"Oh, Howard," she exclaimed, after a moment's pause for breath, "how can +you say such a thing, when I save you so much?" + +"Save me so much!" he echoed. + +"Yes. If I had gone to Ridley for this suit, he would have charged me +two hundred dollars. I took such pains--all on your account--to find +a little man Lily Dallam told me about, who actually made it for one +hundred and twenty-five." + +It was typical of the unreason of his sex that he failed to be impressed +by this argument. + +"If you go on saving that way," said he, "we'll be in the hands of a +receiver by Christmas. I can't see any difference between buying one +suit from Ridley--whoever he may be--and three from Lily Dallam's +'little man,' except that you spend more than three times as much +money." + +"Oh, I didn't get three!--I never thought you could be so unjust, +Howard. Surely you don't want me to dress like these Rivington women, do +you?" + +"I can't see anything wrong with their clothes," he maintained. + +"And to think that I was doing it all to please you!" she cried +reproachfully. + +"To please me!" + +"Who else? We-we don't know anybody in New York. And I wanted you to be +proud of me. I've tried so hard and--and sometimes you don't even look +at my gowns, and say whether you like them and they are all for you." + +This argument, at least, did not fail of results, combined as it was +with a hint of tears in Honora's voice. Its effect upon Howard was +peculiar--he was at once irritated, disarmed, and softened. He put +down his cigarette--and Honora was on his knee! He could not deny her +attractions. + +"How could you be so cruel, Howard?" she asked. + +"You know you wouldn't like me to be a slattern. It was my own idea to +save money--I had a long talk about economy one day with Mrs. Holt. And +you act as though you had such a lot of it when we're in town for dinner +with these Rivington people. You always have champagne. If--if you're +poor, you ought to have told me so, and I shouldn't have ordered another +dinner gown." + +"You've ordered another dinner gown!" + +"Only a little one," said Honora, "the simplest kind. But if you're +poor--" + +She had made a discovery--to reflect upon his business success was to +touch a sensitive nerve. + +"I'm not poor," he declared. "But the bottom's dropped out of the +market, and even old Wing is economizing. We'll have to put on the +brakes for awhile, Honora." + +It was shortly after this that Honora departed on the first of her three +visits to St. Louis. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE NEW DOCTRINE + +This history concerns a free and untrammelled--and, let us add, +feminine--spirit. No lady is in the least interesting if restricted and +contented with her restrictions,--a fact which the ladies of our nation +are fast finding out. What would become of the Goddess of Liberty? And +let us mark well, while we are making these observations, that Liberty +is a goddess, not a god, although it has taken us in America over a +century to realize a significance in the choice of her sex. And--another +discovery!--she is not a haus frau. She is never domiciled, never +fettered. Even the French, clever as they are, have not conceived her: +equality and fraternity are neither kith nor kin of hers, and she laughs +at them as myths--for she is a laughing lady. She alone of the three +is real, and she alone is worshipped for attributes which she does not +possess. She is a coquette, and she is never satisfied. If she were, she +would not be Liberty: if she were, she would not be worshipped of men, +but despised. If they understood her, they would not care for her. And +finally, she comes not to bring peace, but a sword. + +At quarter to seven one blustery evening of the April following their +fourth anniversary Honora returned from New York to find her husband +seated under the tall lamp in the room he somewhat facetiously called +his "den," scanning the financial page of his newspaper. He was in his +dressing gown, his slippered feet extended towards the hearth, smoking a +cigarette. And on the stand beside him was a cocktail glass--empty. + +"Howard," she cried, brushing his ashes from the table, "how can you +be so untidy when you are so good-looking dressed up? I really believe +you're getting fat. And there," she added, critically touching a place +on the top of his head, "is a bald spot!" + +"Anything else?" he murmured, with his eyes still on the sheet. + +"Lots," answered Honora, pulling down the newspaper from before his +face. "For one thing, I'm not going to allow you to be a bear any more. +I don't mean a Stock Exchange bear, but a domestic bear--which is much +worse. You've got to notice me once in a while. If you don't, I'll get +another husband. That's what women do in these days, you know, when +the one they have doesn't take the trouble to make himself sufficiently +agreeable. I'm sure I could get another one quite easily," she declared. + +He looked up at her as she stood facing him in the lamplight before the +fire, and was forced to admit to himself that the boast was not wholly +idle. A smile was on her lips, her eyes gleamed with health; her +furs--of silver fox--were thrown back, the crimson roses pinned on her +mauve afternoon gown matched the glow in her cheeks, while her hair +mingled with the dusky shadows. Howard Spence experienced one of those +startling, illuminating moments which come on occasions to the busy and +self-absorbed husbands of his nation. Psychologists have a name for such +a phenomenon. Ten minutes before, so far as his thoughts were concerned, +she had not existed, and suddenly she had become a possession which +he had not, in truth, sufficiently prized. Absurd though it was, the +possibility which she had suggested aroused in him a slight uneasiness. + +"You are a deuced good-looking woman, I'll say that for you, Honora," he +admitted. + +"Thanks," she answered, mockingly, and put her hands behind her back. +"If I had only known you were going to settle down in Rivington and get +fat and bald and wear dressing gowns and be a bear, I never should have +married you--never, never, never! Oh, how young and simple and foolish +I was! And the magnificent way you talked about New York, and intimated +that you were going to conquer the world. I believed you. Wasn't I a +little idiot not--to know that you'd make for a place like this and dig +a hole and stay in it, and let the world go hang?" + +He laughed, though it was a poor attempt. And she read in his eyes, +which had not left her face, that he was more or less disturbed. + +"I treat you pretty well, don't I, Honora?" he asked. There was an +amorous, apologetic note in his voice that amused her, and reminded her +of the honeymoon. "I give you all the money you want or rather--you take +it,--and I don't kick up a row, except when the market goes to pieces--" + +"When you act as though we'd have to live in Harlem--which couldn't be +much worse," she interrupted. "And you stay in town all day and have no +end of fun making money,--for you like to make money, and expect me to +amuse myself the best part of my life with a lot of women who don't know +enough to keep thin." + +He laughed again, but still uneasily. Honora was still smiling. + +"What's got into you?" he demanded. "I know you don't like Rivington, +but you never broke loose this way before." + +"If you stay here," said Honora, with a new firmness, "it will be alone. +I can't see what you want with a wife, anyway. I've been thinking you +over lately. I don't do anything for you, except to keep getting you +cooks--and anybody could do that. You don't seem to need me in any +possible way. All I do is to loiter around the house and read and play +the piano, or go to New York and buy clothes for nobody to look at +except strangers in restaurants. I'm worth more than that. I think I'll +get married again." + +"Great Lord, what are you talking about?" he exclaimed when he got his +breath. + +"I think I'll take a man next time," she continued calmly, "who has +something to him, some ambition. The kind of man I thought I was getting +when I took you only I shouldn't be fooled again. Women remarry a good +deal in these days, and I'm beginning to see the reason why. And the +women who have done it appear to be perfectly happy--much happier than +they were at first. I saw one of them at Lily Dallam's this afternoon. +She was radiant. I can't see any particular reason why a woman should +be tied all her life to her husband's apron strings--or whatever he +wears--and waste the talents she has. It's wicked, when she might be the +making of some man who is worth something, and who lives somewhere." + +Her husband got up. + +"Jehosaphat!" he cried, "I never heard such talk in my life." + +The idea that her love for him might have ebbed a little, or that she +would for a moment consider leaving him, he rejected as preposterous, of +course: the reputation which the majority of her sex had made throughout +the ages for constancy to the marriage tie was not to be so lightly +dissipated. Nevertheless, there was in her words a new undertone of +determination he had never before heard--or, at least, noticed. + +There was one argument, or panacea, which had generally worked like a +charm, although some time had elapsed since last he had resorted to it. +He tried to seize and kiss her, but she eluded him. At last he caught +her, out of breath, in the corner of the room. + +"Howard--you'll knock over the lamp--you'll ruin my gown--and then +you'll have to buy me another. I DID mean it," she insisted, holding +back her head; "you'll have to choose between Rivington and me. +It's--it's an ultimatum. There were at least three awfully attractive +men at Lily Dallam's tea--I won't tell you who they were--who would be +glad to marry me in a minute." + +He drew her down on the arm of his chair. + +"Now that Lily has a house in town," he said weakly, "I suppose you +think you've got to have one." + +"Oh, Howard, it is such a dear house. I had no idea that so much could +be done with so narrow a front. It's all French, with mirrors and big +white panels and satin chairs and sofas, and a carved gilt piano that +she got for nothing from a dealer she knows; and church candlesticks. +The mirrors give it the effect of being larger than it really is. I've +only two criticisms to make: it's too far from Fifth Avenue, and one can +scarcely turn around in it without knocking something down--a photograph +frame or a flower vase or one of her spindle-legged chairs. It was +only a hideous, old-fashioned stone front when she bought it. I suppose +nobody but Reggie Farwell could have made anything out of it." + +"Who's Reggie Farwell?" inquired her husband. + +"Howard, do you really mean to say you've never heard of Reggie Farwell? +Lily was so lucky to get him--she says he wouldn't have done the house +if he hadn't been such a friend of hers. And he was coming to the tea +this afternoon--only something happened at the last minute, and he +couldn't. She was so disappointed. He built the Maitlands' house, and +did over the Cecil Graingers'. And he's going to do our house--some +day." + +"Why not right away?" asked Howard. + +"Because I've made up my mind to be very, very reasonable," she replied. +"We're going to Quicksands for a while, first." + +"To Quicksands!" he repeated. But in spite of himself he experienced a +feeling of relief that she had not demanded a town mansion on the spot. + +Honora sprang to her feet. + +"Get up, Howard," she cried, "remember that we're going out for +dinner-and you'll never be ready." + +"Hold on," he protested, "I don't know about this Quicksands +proposition. Let's talk it over a little more--" + +"We'll talk it over another time," she replied. "But--remember my +ultimatum. And I am only taking you there for your own good." + +"For my own good!" + +"Yes. To get you out of a rut. To keep you from becoming commonplace and +obscure and--and everything you promised not to be when you married +me," she retorted from the doorway, her eyes still alight with that +disturbing and tantalizing fire. "It is my last desperate effort as a +wife to save you from baldness, obesity, and nonentity." Wherewith she +disappeared into her room and closed the door. + +We read of earthquakes in the tropics and at the ends of the earth with +commiseration, it is true, yet with the fond belief that the ground on +which we have built is so firm that our own 'lares' and 'penates' are in +no danger of being shaken down. And in the same spirit we learn of other +people's domestic cataclysms. Howard Spence had had only a slight shock, +but it frightened him and destroyed his sense of immunity. And during +the week that followed he lacked the moral courage either to discuss +the subject of Quicksands thoroughly or to let it alone: to put down his +foot like a Turk or accede like a Crichton. + +Either course might have saved him. One trouble with the unfortunate +man was that he realized but dimly the gravity of the crisis. He had +laboured under the delusion that matrimonial conditions were still what +they had been in the Eighteenth Century--although it is doubtful whether +he had ever thought of that century. Characteristically, he considered +the troublesome affair chiefly from its business side. His ambition, if +we may use so large a word for the sentiment that had filled his breast, +had been coincident with his prenuptial passion for Honora. And she +had contrived, after four years, in some mysterious way to stir up that +ambition once more; to make him uncomfortable; to compel him to ask +himself whether he were not sliding downhill; to wonder whether living +at Quicksands might not bring him in touch with important interests +which had as yet eluded him. And, above all,--if the idea be put a +little more crudely and definitely than it occurred in his thoughts, +he awoke to the realization that his wife was an asset he had hitherto +utterly neglected. Inconceivable though it were (a middle-of-the-night +reflection), if he insisted on trying to keep such a woman bottled up in +Rivington she might some day pack up and leave him. One never could tell +what a woman would do in these days. Les sacrees femmes. + +We are indebted to Honora for this view of her husband's mental +processes. She watched them, as it were, through a glass in the side of +his head, and incidentally derived infinite amusement therefrom. With +instinctive wisdom she refrained from tinkering. + +An invitation to dine with the Dallams', in their own house, arrived a +day or two after the tea which Honora had attended there. Although Lily +had always been cordial, Honora thought this note couched in terms of +unusual warmth. She was implored to come early, because Lily had so much +to talk to her about which couldn't be written on account of a splitting +headache. In moderate obedience to this summons Honora arrived, on the +evening in question, before the ornamental ironwork of Mrs. Dallam's +front door at a few minutes after seven o'clock. Honora paused in the +spring twilight to contemplate the house, which stood out incongruously +from its sombre, brownstone brothers and sisters with noisy basement +kitchens. The Third Avenue Elevated, "so handy for Sid," roared across +the gap scarcely a block away; and just as the door was opened the +tightest of little blue broughams, pulled by a huge chestnut horse and +driven by the tiniest of grooms in top boots, drew up at the curb. And +out of it burst a resplendent lady--Mrs. Dallam. + +"Oh, it's you, Honora," she cried. "Am I late? I'm so sorry. But I just +couldn't help it. It's all Clara Trowbridge's fault. She insisted on +my staying to meet that Renee Labride who dances so divinely in Lady +Emmeline. She's sweet. I've seen her eight times." Here she took +Honora's arm, and faced her towards the street. "What do you think of my +turnout? Isn't he a darling?" + +"Is he--full grown?" asked Honora. + +Lilly Dallam burst out laughing. + +"Bless you, I don't mean Patrick,--although I had a terrible time +finding him. I mean the horse. Trixy Brent gave him to me before he went +abroad." + +"Gave him to you!" Honora exclaimed. + +"Oh, he's always doing kind things like that, and he hadn't any use for +him. My dear, I hope you don't think for an instant Trixy's in love with +me! He's crazy about Lula Chandos. I tried so hard to get her to come to +dinner to-night, and the Trowbridges' and the Barclays'. You've no idea +how difficult it is in New York to get any one under two weeks. And so +we've got just ourselves." + +Honora was on the point of declaring, politely, that she was very glad, +when Lily Dallam asked her how she liked the brougham. + +"It's the image of Mrs. Cecil Grainger's, my dear, and I got it for a +song. As long as Trixy gave me the horse, I told Sid the least he could +do was to give me the brougham and the harness. Is Master Sid asleep?" +she inquired of the maid who had been patiently waiting at the door. "I +meant to have got home in time to kiss him." + +She led Honora up the narrow but thickly carpeted stairs to a miniature +boudoir, where Madame Adelaide, in a gilt rococo frame, looked +superciliously down from the walls. + +"Why haven't you been in to see me since my tea, Honora? You were such a +success, and after you left they were all crazy to know something about +you, and why they hadn't heard of you. My dear, how much did little +Harris charge you for that dress? If I had your face and neck and figure +I'd die before I'd live in Rivington. You're positively wasted, Honora. +And if you stay there, no one will look at you, though you were as +beautiful as Mrs. Langtry." + +"You're rather good-looking yourself, Lily," said Honora. + +"I'm ten years older than you, my dear, and I have to be so careful. Sid +says I'm killing myself, but I've found a little massage woman who is +wonderful. How do you like this dress?" + +"All your things are exquisite." + +"Do you think so?" cried Mrs. Dallam, delightedly. + +Honora, indeed, had not perjured herself. Only the hypercritical, when +Mrs. Dallam was dressed, had the impression of a performed miracle. She +was the most finished of finished products. Her complexion was high +and (be it added) natural, her hair wonderfully 'onduled', and she had +withal the sweetest and kindest of smiles and the most engaging laughter +in the world. It was impossible not to love her. + +"Howard," she cried, when a little later they were seated at the table, +"how mean of you to have kept Honora in a dead and alive place like +Rivington all these years! I think she's an angel to have stood it. Men +are beyond me. Do you know what an attractive wife you've got? I've just +been telling her that there wasn't a woman at my tea who compared with +her, and the men were crazy about her." + +"That's the reason I live down there," proclaimed Howard, as he finished +his first glass of champagne. + +"Honora," demanded Mrs. Dallam, ignoring his bravado, "why don't you +take a house at Quicksands? You'd love it, and you'd look simply divine +in a bathing suit. Why don't you come down?" + +"Ask Howard," replied Honora, demurely. + +"Well, Lily, I'll own up I have been considering it a little," that +gentleman admitted with gravity. "But I haven't decided anything. There +are certain drawbacks--" + +"Drawbacks!" exclaimed Mrs. Dallam. "Drawbacks at Quicksands! I'd like +to know what they are. Don't be silly, Howard. You get more for your +money there than any place I know." Suddenly the light of an inspiration +came into her eyes, and she turned to her husband. "Sid, the Alfred Fern +house is for rent, isn't it?" + +"I think it must be, Lily," replied Mr. Dallam. + +"Sometimes I believe I'm losing my mind," declared Mrs. Dallam. "What an +imbecile I was not to think of it! It's a dear, Honora, not five minutes +from the Club, with the sweetest furniture, and they just finished it +last fall. It would be positively wicked not to take it, Howard. They +couldn't have failed more opportunely. I'm sorry for Alfred, but I +always thought Louise Fern a little snob. Sid, you must see Alfred down +town the first thing in the morning and ask him what's the least he'll +rent it for. Tell him I wish to know." + +"But--my dear Lily--began Mr. Dallam apologetically. + +"There!" complained his wife, "you're always raising objections to my +most charming and sensible plans. You act as though you wanted Honora +and Howard to stay in Rivington." + +"My dear Lily!" he protested again. And words failing him, he sought by +a gesture to disclaim such a sinister motive for inaction. + +"What harm can it do?" she asked plaintively. "Howard doesn't have to +rent the house, although it would be a sin if he didn't. Find out the +rent in the morning, Sid, and we'll all four go down on Sunday and look +at it, and lunch at the Quicksands Club. I'm sure I can get out of +my engagement at Laura Dean's--this is so important. What do you say, +Honora?" + +"I think it would be delightful," said Honora. + + + + +CHAPTER V. QUICKSANDS + +To convey any adequate idea of the community familiarly known as +Quicksands a cinematograph were necessary. With a pen we can only +approximate the appearance of the shifting grains at any one time. Some +households there were, indeed, which maintained a precarious though +seemingly miraculous footing on the surface, or near it, going under for +mere brief periods, only to rise again and flaunt men-servants in the +face of Providence. + +There were real tragedies, too, although a casual visitor would never +have guessed it. For tragedies sink, and that is the end of them. The +cinematograph, to be sure, would reveal one from time to time, coming +like a shadow across an endless feast, and gone again in a flash. Such +was what might appropriately be called the episode of the Alfred Ferns. +After three years of married life they had come, they had rented; the +market had gone up, they had bought and built--upon the sands. The +ancient farmhouse which had stood on the site had been torn down as +unsuited to a higher civilization, although the great elms which had +sheltered it had been left standing, in grave contrast to the twisted +cedars and stunted oaks so much in evidence round about. + +The Ferns--or rather little Mrs. Fern--had had taste, and the new house +reflected it. As an indication of the quality of imagination possessed +by the owners, the place was called "The Brackens." There was a long +porch on the side of the ocean, but a view of the water was shut off +from it by a hedge which, during the successive ownerships of the +adjoining property, had attained a height of twelve feet. There was a +little toy greenhouse connecting with the porch (an "economy" indulged +in when the market had begun to go the wrong way for Mr. Fern). Exile, +although unpleasant, was sometimes found necessary at Quicksands, and +even effective. + +Above all things, however, if one is describing Quicksands, one must not +be depressing. That is the unforgiveable sin there. Hence we must touch +upon these tragedies lightly. + +If, after walking through the entrance in the hedge that separated +the Brackens from the main road, you turned to the left and followed +a driveway newly laid out between young poplars, you came to a mass of +cedars. Behind these was hidden the stable. There were four stalls, all +replete with brass trimmings, and a box, and the carriage-house was made +large enough for the break which Mr. Fern had been getting ready to buy +when he had been forced, so unexpectedly, to change his mind. + +If the world had been searched, perhaps, no greater contrast to +Rivington could have been found than this delightful colony of +quicksands, full of life and motion and colour, where everybody was +beautifully dressed and enjoying themselves. For a whole week after +her instalment Honora was in a continual state of excitement and +anticipation, and the sound of wheels and voices on the highroad beyond +the hedge sent her peeping to her curtains a dozen times a day. The +waking hours, instead of burdens, were so many fleeting joys. In +the morning she awoke to breathe a new, perplexing, and delicious +perfume--the salt sea breeze stirring her curtains: later, she was on +the gay, yellow-ochre beach with Lily Dallam, making new acquaintances; +and presently stepping, with a quiver of fear akin to delight, into the +restless, limitless blue water that stretched southward under a milky +haze: luncheon somewhere, more new acquaintances, and then, perhaps, in +Lily's light wood victoria to meet the train of trains. For at half-past +five the little station, forlorn all day long in the midst of the +twisted cedars that grew out of the heated sand, assumed an air of +gayety and animation. Vehicles of all sorts drew up in the open space +before it, wagonettes, phaetons, victorias, high wheeled hackney carts, +and low Hempstead carts: women in white summer gowns and veils compared +notes, or shouted invitations to dinner from carriage to carriage. The +engine rolled in with a great cloud of dust, the horses danced, the +husbands and the overnight guests, grimy and brandishing evening +newspapers, poured out of the special car where they had sat in +arm-chairs and talked stocks all the way from Long Island City. Some +were driven home, it is true; some to the beach, and others to +the Quicksands Club, where they continued their discussions over +whiskey-and-sodas until it was time to have a cocktail and dress for +dinner. + +Then came the memorable evening when Lily Dallam gave a dinner in honour +of Honora, her real introduction to Quicksands. It was characteristic of +Lily that her touch made the desert bloom. Three years before Quicksands +had gasped to hear that the Sidney Dallams had bought the Faraday +house--or rather what remained of it. + +"We got it for nothing," Lily explained triumphantly on the occasion of +Honora's first admiring view. "Nobody would look at it, my dear." + +It must have been this first price, undoubtedly, that appealed to Sidney +Dallam, model for all husbands: to Sidney, who had had as much of an +idea of buying in Quicksands as of acquiring a Scotch shooting box. The +"Faraday place" had belonged to the middle ages, as time is reckoned in +Quicksands, and had lain deserted for years, chiefly on account of its +lugubrious and funereal aspect. It was on a corner. Two "for rent" signs +had fallen successively from the overgrown hedge: some fifty feet back +from the road, hidden by undergrowth and in the tenebrous shades of huge +larches and cedars, stood a hideous, two-storied house with a mansard +roof, once painted dark red. + +The magical transformation of all this into a sunny, smiling, white +villa with red-striped awnings and well-kept lawns and just enough shade +had done no little towards giving to Lily Dallam that ascendency which +she had acquired with such startling rapidity in the community. When +Honora and Howard drove up to the door in the deepening twilight, every +window was a yellow, blazing square, and above the sound of voices +rose a waltz from "Lady Emmeline" played with vigour on the piano. Lily +Dallam greeted Honora in the little room which (for some unexplained +reason) was known as the library, pressed into service at dinner parties +as the ladies' dressing room. + +"My dear, how sweet you look in that coral! I've been so lucky +to-night," she added in Honora's ear; "I've actually got Trixy Brent for +you." + +Our heroine was conscious of a pleasurable palpitation as she +walked with her hostess across the little entry to the door of the +drawing-room, where her eyes encountered an inviting and vivacious +scene. Some ten or a dozen guests, laughing and talking gayly, filled +the spaces between the furniture; an upright piano was embedded in a +corner, and the lady who had just executed the waltz had swung around +on the stool, and was smiling up at a man who stood beside her with his +hand in his pocket. She was a decided brunette, neither tall nor short, +with a suggestion of plumpness. + +"That's Lula Chandos," explained Lily Dallam in her usual staccato, +following Honora's gaze, "at the piano, in ashes of roses. She's stopped +mourning for her husband. Trixy told her to-night she'd discarded the +sackcloth and kept the ashes. He's awfully clever. I don't wonder that +she's crazy about him, do you? He's standing beside her." + +Honora took a good look at the famous Trixy, who resembled a +certain type of military Englishman. He had close-cropped hair and a +close-cropped mustache; and his grey eyes, as they rested amusedly on +Mrs. Chandos, seemed to have in them the light of mockery. + +"Trixy!" cried his hostess, threading her way with considerable skill +across the room and dragging Honora after her, "Trixy, I want to +introduce you to Mrs. Spence. Now aren't you glad you came!" + +It was partly, no doubt, by such informal introductions that Lily Dallam +had made her reputation as the mistress of a house where one and all +had such a good time. Honora, of course, blushed to her temples, and +everybody laughed--even Mrs. Chandos. + +"Glad," said Mr. Brent, with his eyes on Honora, "does not quite express +it. You usually have a supply of superlatives, Lily, which you might +have drawn on." + +"Isn't he irrepressible?" demanded Lily Dallam, delightedly, "he's +always teasing." + +It was running through Honora's mind, while Lily Dallam's characteristic +introductions of the other guests were in progress, that "irrepressible" +was an inaccurate word to apply to Mr. Brent's manner. Honora could not +define his attitude, but she vaguely resented it. All of Lily's guests +had the air of being at home, and at that moment a young gentleman named +Charley Goodwin, who was six feet tall and weighed two hundred pounds, +was loudly demanding cocktails. They were presently brought by a rather +harassed-looking man-servant. + +"I can't get over how well you look in that gown, Lula," declared Mrs. +Dallam, as they went out to dinner. "Trixy, what does she remind you +of?" + +"Cleopatra," cried Warry Trowbridge, with an attempt to be gallant. + +"Eternal vigilance," said Mr. Brent, and they sat down amidst the +laughter, Lily Dallam declaring that he was horrid, and Mrs. Chandos +giving him a look of tender reproach. But he turned abruptly to Honora, +who was on his other side. + +"Where did you drop down from, Mrs. Spence?" he inquired. + +"Why do you take it for granted that I have dropped?" she asked sweetly. + +He looked at her queerly for a moment, and then burst out laughing. + +"Because you are sitting next to Lucifer," he said. "It's kind of me to +warn you, isn't it?" + +"It wasn't necessary," replied Honora. "And besides, as a dinner +companion, I imagine Lucifer couldn't be improved on." + +He laughed again. + +"As a dinner companion!" he repeated. "So you would limit Lucifer to +dinners? That's rather a severe punishment, since we're neighbours." + +"How delightful to have Lucifer as one's neighbour," said Honora, +avoiding his eyes. "Of course I've been brought up to believe that he +was always next door, so to speak, but I've never--had any proof of it +until now." + +"Proof!" echoed Mr. Brent. "Has my reputation gone before me?" + +"I smell the brimstone," said Honora. + +He derived, apparently, infinite amusement from this remark likewise. + +"If I had known I was to have the honour of sitting here, I should have +used another perfume," he replied. "I have several." + +It was Honora's turn to laugh. + +"They are probably for--commercial transactions, not for ladies," +she retorted. "We are notoriously fond of brimstone, if it is not too +strong. A suspicion of it." + +Her colour was high, and she was surprised at her own vivacity. It +seemed strange that she should be holding her own in this manner with +the renowned Trixton Brent. No wonder, after four years of Rivington, +that she tingled with an unwonted excitement. + +At this point Mr. Brent's eye fell upon Howard, who was explaining +something to Mrs. Trowbridge at the far end of the table. + +"What's your husband like?" he demanded abruptly. + +Honora was a little taken aback, but recovered sufficiently to retort: +"You'd hardly expect me to give you an unprejudiced judgment." + +"That's true," he agreed significantly. + +"He's everything," added Honora, "that is to be expected in a husband." + +"Which isn't much, in these days," declared Mr. Brent. + +"On the contrary," said Honora. + +"What I should like to know is why you came to Quicksands," said Mr. +Brent. + +"For a little excitement," she replied. "So far, I have not been +disappointed. But why do you ask that question?" she demanded, with a +slight uneasiness. "Why did you come here?" + +"Oh," he said, "you must remember that I'm--Lucifer, a citizen of the +world, at home anywhere, a sort of 'freebooter. I'm not here all the +time--but that's no reflection on Quicksands. May I make a bet with you, +Mrs. Spence?" + +"What about?" + +"That you won't stay in Quicksands more than six months," he answered. + +"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously. + +He shook his head. + +"My experience with your sex," he declared enigmatically, "has not been +a slight one." + +"Trixy!" interrupted Mrs. Chandos at this juncture, from his other +side, "Warry Trowbridge won't tell me whether to sell my Consolidated +Potteries stock." + +"Because he doesn't know," said Mr. Brent, laconically, and readdressed +himself to Honora, who had, however, caught a glimpse of Mrs. Chandos' +face. + +"Don't you think it's time for you to talk to Mrs. Chandos?" she asked. + +"What for?" + +"Well, for one reason, it is customary, out of consideration for the +hostess, to assist in turning the table." + +"Lily doesn't care," he said. + +"How about Mrs. Chandos? I have an idea that she does care." + +He made a gesture of indifference. + +"And how about me?" Honora continued. "Perhaps--I'd like to talk to Mr. +Dallam." + +"Have you ever tried it?" he demanded. + +Over her shoulder she flashed back at him a glance which he did not +return. She had never, to tell the truth, given her husband's partner +much consideration. He had existed in her mind solely as an obliging +shopkeeper with whom Lily had unlimited credit, and who handed her over +the counter such things as she desired. And to-night, in contrast +to Trixton Brent, Sidney Dallam suggested the counter more than ever +before. He was about five and forty, small, neatly made, with little +hands and feet; fast growing bald, and what hair remained to him was a +jet black. His suavity of manner and anxious desire to give one just the +topic that pleased had always irritated Honora. + +Good shopkeepers are not supposed to have any tastes, predilections, or +desires of their own, and it was therefore with no little surprise +that, after many haphazard attempts, Honora discovered Mr. Dallam to +be possessed by one all-absorbing weakness. She had fallen in love, +she remarked, with little Sid on the beach, and Sidney Dallam suddenly +became transfigured. Was she fond of children? Honora coloured a little, +and said "yes." He confided to her, with an astonishing degree of +feeling, that it had been the regret of his life he had not had more +children. Nobody, he implied, who came to his house had ever exhibited +the proper interest in Sid. + +"Sometimes," he said, leaning towards her confidentially, "I slip +upstairs for a little peep at him after dinner." + +"Oh," cried Honora, "if you're going to-night mayn't I go with you? I'd +love to see him in bed." + +"Of course I'll take you," said Sidney Dallam, and he looked at her so +gratefully that she coloured again. + +"Honora," said Lily Dallam, when the women were back in the +drawing-room, "what did you do to Sid? You had him beaming--and he hates +dinner parties." + +"We were talking about children," replied Honora, innocently. + +"Children!" + +"Yes," said Honora, "and your husband has promised to take me up to the +nursery." + +"And did you talk to Trixy about children, too?" cried Lily, laughing, +with a mischievous glance at Mrs. Chandos. + +"Is he interested in them?" asked Honora. + +"You dear!" cried Lily, "you'll be the death of me. Lula, Honora wants +to know whether Trixy is interested in children." + +Mrs. Chandos, in the act of lighting a cigarette, smiled sweetly. + +"Apparently he is," she said. + +"It's time he were, if he's ever going to be," said Honora, just as +sweetly. + +Everybody laughed but Mrs. Chandos, who began to betray an intense +interest in some old lace in the corner of the room. + +"I bought it for nothing, my dear," said Mrs. Dallam, but she pinched +Honora's arm delightedly. "How wicked of you!" she whispered, "but it +serves her right." + +In the midst of the discussion of clothes and house rents and other +people's possessions, interspersed with anecdotes of a kind that was new +to Honora, Sidney Dallam appeared at the door and beckoned to her. + +"How silly of you, Sid!" exclaimed his wife; "of course she doesn't want +to go." + +"Indeed I do," protested Honora, rising with alacrity and following +her host up the stairs. At the end of a hallway a nurse, who had been +reading beside a lamp, got up smilingly and led the way on tiptoe into +the nursery, turning on a shaded electric light. Honora bent over the +crib. The child lay, as children will, with his little yellow head +resting on his arm. But in a moment, as she stood gazing at him, he +turned and opened his eyes and smiled at her, and she stooped and kissed +him. + +"Where's Daddy?" he demanded. + +"We've waked him!" said Honora, remorsefully. + +"Daddy," said the child, "tell me a story." + +The nurse looked at Dallam reproachfully, as her duty demanded, and yet +she smiled. The noise of laughter reached them from below. + +"I didn't have any to-night," the child pleaded. + +"I got home late," Dallam explained to Honora, and, looking at the +nurse, pleaded in his turn; "just one." + +"Just a tiny one," said the child. + +"It's against all rules, Mr. Dallam," said the nurse, "but--he's been +very lonesome to-day." + +Dallam sat down on one side of him, Honora on the other. + +"Will you go to sleep right away if I do, Sid?" he asked. + +The child shut his eyes very tight. + +"Like that," he promised. + +It was not the Sidney Dallam of the counting-room who told that story, +and Honora listened with strange sensations which she did not attempt to +define. + +"I used to be fond of that one when I was a youngster," he explained +apologetically to her as they went out, and little Sid had settled +himself obediently on the pillow once more. "It was when I dreamed," he +added, "of less prosaic occupations than the stock market." + +Sidney Dallam had dreamed! + +Although Lily Dallam had declared that to leave her house before +midnight was to insult her, it was half-past eleven when Honora and her +husband reached home. He halted smilingly in her doorway as she took off +her wrap and laid it over a chair. + +"Well, Honora," he asked, "how do you like--the whirl of fashion?" + +She turned to him with one of those rapid and bewildering movements that +sometimes characterized her, and put her arms on his shoulders. + +"What a dear old stay-at-home you were, Howard," she said. "I wonder +what would have happened to you if I hadn't rescued you in the nick of +time! Own up that you like--a little variety in life." + +Being a man, he qualified his approval. + +"I didn't have a bad time," he admitted. "I had a talk with Brent after +dinner, and I think I've got him interested in a little scheme. It's +a strange thing that Sid Dallam was never able to do any business with +him. If I can put this through, coming to Quicksands will have been +worth while." He paused a moment, and added: "Brent seems to have taken +quite a shine to you, Honora." + +She dropped her arms, and going over to her dressing table, unclasped a +pin on the front of her gown. + +"I imagine," she answered, in an indifferent tone, "that he acts so with +every new woman he meets." + +Howard remained for a while in the doorway, seemingly about to speak. +Then he turned on his heel, and she heard him go into his own room. + +Far into the night she lay awake, the various incidents of the evening, +like magic lantern views, thrown with bewildering rapidity on the screen +of her mind. At last she was launched into life, and the days of +her isolation gone by forever. She was in the centre of things. And +yet--well, nothing could be perfect. Perhaps she demanded too much. Once +or twice, in the intimate and somewhat uproarious badinage that had been +tossed back and forth in the drawing-room after dinner, her delicacy had +been offended: an air of revelry had prevailed, enhanced by the arrival +of whiskey-and-soda on a tray. And at the time she had been caught up by +an excitement in the grip of which she still found herself. She had been +aware, as she tried to talk to Warren Trowbridge, of Trixton Brent's +glance, and of a certain hostility from Mrs. Chandos that caused her now +to grow warm with a kind of shame when she thought of it. But she could +not deny that this man had for her a fascination. There was in him an +insolent sense of power, of scarcely veiled contempt for the company +in which he found himself. And she asked herself, in this mood of +introspection, whether a little of his contempt for Lily Dallam's guests +had not been communicated from him to her. + +When she had risen to leave, he had followed her into the entry. She +recalled him vividly as he had stood before her then, a cigar in one +hand and a lighted match in the other, his eyes fixed upon her with a +singularly disquieting look that was tinged, however, with amusement. +"I'm coming to see you," he announced. + +"Do be careful," she had cried, "you'll burn yourself!" + +"That," he answered, tossing away the match, "is to be expected." + +She laughed nervously. + +"Good night," he added, "and remember my bet." + +What could he have meant when he had declared that she would not remain +in Quicksands? + + + + +CHAPTER VI. GAD AND MENI. + +There was an orthodox place of worship at Quicksands, a temple not +merely opened up for an hour or so on Sunday mornings to be shut tight +during the remainder of the week although it was thronged with devotees +on the Sabbath. This temple, of course, was the Quicksands Club. Howard +Spence was quite orthodox; and, like some of our Puritan forefathers, +did not even come home to the midday meal on the first day of the week. +But a certain instinct of protest and of nonconformity which may have +been remarked in our heroine sent her to St. Andrews-by-the-Sea--by no +means so well attended as the house of Gad and Meni. She walked home in +a pleasantly contemplative state of mind through a field of daisies, and +had just arrived at the hedge in front of the Brackens when the sound +of hoofs behind her caused her to turn. Mr. Trixton Brent, very firmly +astride of a restive, flea-bitten polo pony, surveyed her amusedly. + +"Where have you been?" said he. + +"To church," replied Honora, demurely. + +"Such virtue is unheard of in Quicksands." + +"It isn't virtue," said Honora. + +"I had my doubts about that, too," he declared. + +"What is it, then?" she asked laughingly, wondering why he had such a +faculty of stirring her excitement and interest. + +"Dissatisfaction," was his prompt reply. + +"I don't see why you say that," she protested. + +"I'm prepared to make my wager definite," said he. "The odds are a +thoroughbred horse against a personally knitted worsted waistcoat that +you won't stay in Quicksands six months." + +"I wish you wouldn't talk nonsense," said Honora, "and besides, I can't +knit." + +There was a short silence during which he didn't relax his disconcerting +stare. + +"Won't you come in?" she asked. "I'm sorry Howard isn't home." + +"I'm not," he said promptly. "Can't you come over to my box for lunch? +I've asked Lula Chandos and Warry Trowbridge." + +It was not without appropriateness that Trixton Brent called his house +the "Box." It was square, with no pretensions to architecture whatever, +with a porch running all the way around it. And it was literally filled +with the relics of the man's physical prowess cups for games of all +descriptions, heads and skins from the Bitter Roots to Bengal, and +masks and brushes from England. To Honora there was an irresistible +and mysterious fascination in all these trophies, each suggesting a +finished--and some perhaps a cruel--performance of the man himself. The +cups were polished until they beat back the light like mirrors, and the +glossy bear and tiger skins gave no hint of dying agonies. + +Mr. Brent's method with women, Honora observed, more resembled the noble +sport of Isaac Walton than that of Nimrod, but she could not deny that +this element of cruelty was one of his fascinations. It was very evident +to a feminine observer, for instance, that Mrs. Chandos was engaged in +a breathless and altogether desperate struggle with the slow but +inevitable and appalling Nemesis of a body and character that would not +harmonize. If her figure grew stout, what was to become of her charm as +an 'enfant gate'? Her host not only perceived, but apparently derived +great enjoyment out of the drama of this contest. From self-indulgence +to self-denial--even though inspired by terror--is a far cry. And +Trixton Brent had evidently prepared his menu with a satanic purpose. + +"What! No entree, Lula? I had that sauce especially for you." + +"Oh, Trixy, did you really? How sweet of you!" And her liquid eyes +regarded, with an almost equal affection, first the master and then the +dish. "I'll take a little," she said weakly; "it's so bad for my gout." + +"What," asked Trixton Brent, flashing an amused glance at Honora, "are +the symptoms of gout, Lula? I hear a great deal about that trouble these +days, but it seems to affect every one differently." + +Mrs. Chandos grew very red, but Warry Trowbridge saved her. + +"It's a swelling," he said innocently. + +Brent threw back his head and laughed. + +"You haven't got it anyway, Warry," he cried. + +Mr. Trowbridge, who resembled a lean and greying Irish terrier, +maintained that he had. + +"It's a pity you don't ride, Lula. I understand that that's one of the +best preventives--for gout. I bought a horse last week that would just +suit you--an ideal woman's horse. He's taken a couple of blue ribbons +this summer." + +"I hope you will show him to us, Mr. Brent," exclaimed Honora, in a +spirit of kindness. + +"Do you ride?" he demanded. + +"I'm devoted to it," she declared. + +It was true. For many weeks that spring, on Monday, Wednesday, and +Friday mornings, she had gone up from Rivington to Harvey's Riding +Academy, near Central Park. Thus she had acquired the elements of +the equestrian art, and incidentally aroused the enthusiasm of a +riding-master. + +After Mrs. Chandos had smoked three of the cigarettes which her host +specially imported from Egypt, she declared, with no superabundance +of enthusiasm, that she was ready to go and see what Trixy had in the +"stables." In spite of that lady's somewhat obvious impatience, Honora +insisted upon admiring everything from the monogram of coloured sands +so deftly woven on the white in the coach house, to the hunters and +polo ponies in their rows of boxes. At last Vercingetorix, the latest +acquisition of which Brent had spoken, was uncovered and trotted around +the ring. + +"I'm sorry, Trixy, but I've really got to leave," said Mrs. Chandos. +"And I'm in such a predicament! I promised Fanny Darlington I'd go over +there, and it's eight miles, and both my horses are lame." + +Brent turned to his coachman. + +"Put a pair in the victoria right away and drive Mrs. Chandos to Mrs. +Darlington's," he said. + +She looked at him, and her lip quivered. + +"You always were the soul of generosity, Trixy, but why the victoria?" + +"My dear Lula," he replied, "if there's any other carriage you +prefer--?" + +Honora did not hear the answer, which at any rate was scarcely audible. +She moved away, and her eyes continued to follow Vercingetorix as he +trotted about the tan-bark after a groom. And presently she was aware +that Trixton Brent was standing beside her. + +"What do you think of him?" he asked. + +"He's adorable," declared Honora. "Would you like to try him?" + +"Oh--might I? Sometime?" + +"Why not to-day--now?" he said. "I'll send him over to your house and +have your saddle put on him." + +Before Honora could protest Mrs. Chandos came forward. + +"It's awfully sweet of you, Trixy, to offer to send me to Fanny's, but +Warry says he will drive me over. Good-by, my dear," she added, holding +out her hand to Honora. + +"I hope you enjoy your ride." + +Mr. Trowbridge's phaeton was brought up, Brent helped Mrs. Chandos in, +and stood for a moment gazing after her. Amusement was still in his eyes +as he turned to Honora. + +"Poor Lula!" he said. "Most women could have done it better than +that--couldn't they?" + +"I think you were horrid to her," exclaimed Honora, indignantly. "It +wouldn't have hurt you to drive her to Mrs. Darlington's." + +It did not occur to her that her rebuke implied a familiarity at which +they had swiftly but imperceptibly arrived. + +"Oh, yes, it would hurt me," said he. "I'd rather spend a day in jail +than drive with Lula in that frame of mind. Tender reproaches, and all +that sort of thing, you know although I can't believe you ever indulge +in them. Don't," he added. + +In spite of the fact that she was up in arms for her sex, Honora smiled. + +"Do you know," she said slowly, "I'm beginning to think you are a +brute." + +"That's encouraging," he replied. + +"And fickle." + +"Still more encouraging. Most men are fickle. We're predatory animals." + +"It's just as well that I am warned," said Honora. She raised her +parasol and picked up her skirts and shot him a look. Although he did +not resemble in feature the great if unscrupulous Emperor of the French, +he reminded her now of a picture she had once seen of Napoleon and +a lady; the lady obviously in a little flutter under the Emperor's +scrutiny. The picture had suggested a probable future for the lady. + +"How long will it take you to dress?" he asked. + +"To dress for what?" + +"To ride with me." + +"I'm not going to ride with you," she said, and experienced a tingle of +satisfaction from his surprise. + +"Why not?" he demanded. + +"In the first place, because I don't want to; and in the second, because +I'm expecting Lily Dallam." + +"Lily never keeps an engagement," he said. + +"That's no reason why I shouldn't," Honora answered. + +"I'm beginning to think you're deuced clever," said he. + +"How unfortunate for me!" she exclaimed. + +He laughed, although it was plain that he was obviously put out. Honora +was still smiling. + +"Deuced clever," he repeated. + +"An experienced moth," suggested Honora; "perhaps one that has been +singed a little, once or twice. Good-by--I've enjoyed myself immensely." + +She glanced back at him as she walked down the path to the roadway. He +was still standing where she had left him, his feet slightly apart, his +hands in the pockets of his riding breeches, looking after her. + +Her announcement of an engagement with Mrs. Dallam had been, to put it +politely, fiction. She spent the rest of the afternoon writing letters +home, pausing at periods to look out of the window. Occasionally it +appeared that her reflections were amusing. At seven o'clock Howard +arrived, flushed and tired after his day of rest. + +"By the way, Honora, I saw Trixy Brent at the Club, and he said you +wouldn't go riding with him." + +"Do you call him Trixy to his face?" she asked. + +"What? No--but everyone calls him Trixy. What's the matter with you?" + +"Nothing," she replied. "Only--the habit every one has in Quicksands of +speaking of people they don't know well by their nicknames seems rather +bad taste." + +"I thought you liked Quicksands," he retorted. "You weren't happy until +you got down here." + +"It's infinitely better than Rivington," she said. + +"I suppose," he remarked, with a little irritation unusual in him, "that +you'll be wanting to go to Newport next." + +"Perhaps," said Honora, and resumed her letter. He fidgeted about the +room for a while, ordered a cocktail, and lighted a cigarette. + +"Look here," he began presently, "I wish you'd be decent to Brent. He's +a pretty good fellow, and he's in with James Wing and that crowd of big +financiers, and he seems to have taken a shine to me probably because +he's heard of that copper deal I put through this spring." + +Honora thrust back her writing pad, turned in her chair, and faced him. + +"How 'decent' do you wish me to be?" she inquired. + +"How decent?" he repeated. + +"Yes." + +He regarded her uneasily, took the cocktail which the maid offered him, +drank it, and laid down the glass. + +He had had before, in the presence of his wife, this vague feeling of +having passed boundaries invisible to him. In her eyes was a curious +smile that lacked mirth, in her voice a dispassionate note that added to +his bewilderment. + +"What do you mean, Honora?" + +"I know it's too much to expect of a man to be as solicitous about his +wife as he is about his business," she replied. "Otherwise he would +hesitate before he threw her into the arms of Mr. Trixton Brent. I warn +you that he is very attractive to women." + +"Hang it," said Howard, "I can't see what you're driving at. I'm not +throwing you into his arms. I'm merely asking you to be friendly with +him. It means a good deal to me--to both of us. And besides, you can +take care of yourself. You're not the sort of woman to play the fool." + +"One never can tell," said Honora, "what may happen. Suppose I fell in +love with him?" + +"Don't talk nonsense," he said. + +"I'm not so sure," she answered, meditatively, "that it is nonsense. It +would be quite easy to fall in love with him. Easier than you imagine. +curiously. Would you care?" she added. + +"Care!" he cried; "of course I'd care. What kind of rot are you +talking?" + +"Why would you care?" + +"Why? What a darned idiotic question--" + +"It's not really so idiotic as you think it is," she said. "Suppose I +allowed Mr. Brent to make love to me, as he's very willing to do, would +you be sufficiently interested to compete." + +"To what?" + +"To compete." + +"But--but we're married." + +She laid her hand upon her knee and glanced down at it. + +"It never occurred to me until lately," she said, "how absurd is the +belief men still hold in these days that a wedding-ring absolves them +forever from any effort on their part to retain their wives' affections. +They regard the ring very much as a ball and chain, or a hobble to +prevent the women from running away, that they may catch them whenever +they may desire--which isn't often. Am I not right?" + +He snapped his cigarette case. + +"Darn it, Honora, you're getting too deep for me!" he exclaimed. "You +never liked those, Browning women down at Rivington, but if this isn't +browning I'm hanged if I know what it is. An attack of nerves, perhaps. +They tell me that women go all to pieces nowadays over nothing at all." + +"That's just it," she agreed, "nothing at all!" + +"I thought as much," he replied, eager to seize this opportunity of +ending a conversation that had neither head nor tail, and yet was +marvellously uncomfortable. "There! be a good girl, and forget it." + +He stooped down suddenly to her face to kiss her, but she turned her +face in time to receive the caress on the cheek. + +"The panacea!" she said. + +He laughed a little, boyishly, as he stood looking down at her. + +"Sometimes I can't make you out," he said. "You've changed a good deal +since I married you." + +She was silent. But the thought occurred to her that a complete +absorption in commercialism was not developing. + +"If you can manage it, Honora," he added with an attempt at lightness, +"I wish you'd have a little dinner soon, and ask Brent. Will you?" + +"Nothing," she replied, "would give me greater pleasure." + +He patted her on the shoulder and left the room whistling. But she sat +where she was until the maid came in to pull the curtains and turn on +the lights, reminding her that guests were expected. + + ..................... + +Although the circle of Mr. Brent's friends could not be said to include +any university or college presidents, it was, however, both catholic +and wide. He was hail fellow, indeed, with jockeys and financiers, great +ladies and municipal statesmen of good Irish stock. He was a lion who +roamed at large over a great variety of hunting grounds, some of +which it would be snobbish to mention; for many reasons he preferred +Quicksands: a man-eater, a woman-eater, and extraordinarily popular, +nevertheless. Many ladies, so it was reported, had tried to tame him: +some of them he had cheerfully gobbled up, and others after the briefest +of inspections, disdainfully thrust aside with his paw. + +This instinct for lion taming, which the most spirited of women possess, +is, by the way, almost inexplicable to the great majority of the male +sex. Honora had it, as must have been guessed. But however our faith in +her may be justified by the ridiculous ease of her previous conquests, +we cannot regard without trepidation her entrance into the arena with +this particular and widely renowned king of beasts. Innocence pitted +against sophistry and wile and might. + +Two of the preliminary contests we have already witnessed. Others, more +or less similar, followed during a period of two months or more. Nothing +inducing the excessive wagging of tongues,--Honora saw to that, although +Mrs. Chandos kindly took the trouble to warn our heroine,--a scene for +which there is unfortunately no space in this chronicle; an entirely +amicable, almost honeyed scene, in Honora's boudoir. Nor can a complete +picture of life at Quicksands be undertaken. Multiply Mrs. Dallam's +dinner-party by one hundred, Howard Silence's Sundays at the Club +by twenty, and one has a very fair idea of it. It was not precisely +intellectual. "Happy," says Montesquieu, "the people whose annals are +blank in history's book." Let us leave it at that. + +Late one afternoon in August Honora was riding homeward along the ocean +road. The fragrant marshes that bordered it were a vivid green under the +slanting rays of the sun, and she was gazing across them at the breakers +crashing on the beach beyond. Trixton Brent was beside her. + +"I wish you wouldn't stare at me so," she said, turning to him suddenly; +"it is embarrassing." + +"How did you know I was looking at you?" he asked. + +"I felt it." + +He drew his horse a little nearer. + +"Sometimes you're positively uncanny," she added. + +He laughed. + +"I rather like that castles-in-Spain expression you wore," he declared. + +"Castles in Spain?" + +"Or in some other place where the real estate is more valuable. +Certainly not in Quicksands." + +"You are uncanny," proclaimed Honora, with conviction. + +"I told you you wouldn't like Quicksands," said he. + +"I've never said I didn't like it," she replied. "I can't see why you +assume that I don't." + +"You're ambitious," he said. "Not that I think it a fault, when it's +more or less warranted. Your thrown away here, and you know it." + +She made him a bow from the saddle. + +"I have not been without a reward, at least," she answered, and looked +at him. + +"I have," said he. + +Honora smiled. + +"I'm going to be your good angel, and help you get out of it," he +continued. + +"Get out of what?" + +"Quicksands." + +"Do you think I'm in danger of sinking?" she asked. "And is it +impossible for me to get out alone, if I wished to?" + +"It will be easier with my help," he answered. "You're clever enough to +realize that--Honora." + +She was silent awhile. + +"You say the most extraordinary things," she remarked presently. +"Sometimes I think they are almost--" + +"Indelicate," he supplied. + +She coloured. + +"Yes, indelicate." + +"You can't forgive me for sweeping away your rose-coloured cloud of +romance," he declared, laughing. "There are spades in the pack, however +much you may wish to ignore 'em. You know very well you don't like these +Quicksands people. They grate on your finer sensibilities, and all that +sort of thing. Come, now, isn't it so?" + +She coloured again, and put her horse to the trot. + +"Onwards and upwards," he cried. "Veni, vidi, vici, ascendi." + +"It seems to me," she laughed, "that so much education is thrown away on +the stock market." + +"Whether you will be any happier higher up," he went on, "God knows. +Sometimes I think you ought to go back to the Arcadia you came from. Did +you pick out Spence for an embryo lord of high finance?" + +"My excuse is," replied Honora, "that I was very young, and I hadn't met +you." + +Whether the lion has judged our heroine with astuteness, or done her a +little less than justice, must be left to the reader. Apparently he is +accepting her gentle lashings with a meek enjoyment. He assisted her to +alight at her own door, sent the horses home, and offered to come in and +give her a lesson in a delightful game that was to do its share in the +disintegration of the old and tiresome order of things--bridge. The +lion, it will be seen, was self-sacrificing even to the extent of +double dummy. He had picked up the game with characteristic aptitude +abroad--Quicksands had yet to learn it. + +Howard Spence entered in the midst of the lesson. + +"Hello, Brent," said he, genially, "you may be interested to know I got +that little matter through without a hitch to-day." + +"I continue to marvel at you," said the lion, and made it no trumps. + +Since this is a veracious history, and since we have wandered so far +from home and amidst such strange, if brilliant scenes, it must be +confessed that Honora, three days earlier, had entered a certain shop in +New York and inquired for a book on bridge. Yes, said the clerk, he had +such a treatise, it had arrived from England a week before. She kept it +looked up in her drawer, and studied it in the mornings with a pack of +cards before her. + +Given the proper amount of spur, anything in reason can be mastered. + + + + +Volume 4. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. OF CERTAIN DELICATE MATTERS + +In the religious cult of Gad and Meni, practised with such enthusiasm +at Quicksands, the Saints' days were polo days, and the chief of +all festivals the occasion of the match with the Banbury Hunt +Club--Quicksands's greatest rival. Rival for more reasons than one, +reasons too delicate to tell. Long, long ago there appeared in Punch +a cartoon of Lord Beaconsfield executing that most difficult of +performances, an egg dance. We shall be fortunate indeed if we get to +the end of this chapter without breaking an egg! + +Our pen fails us in a description of that festival of festivals, the +Banbury one, which took place early in September. We should have to go +back to Babylon and the days of King Nebuchadnezzar. (Who turns out +to have been only a regent, by the way, and his name is now said to be +spelled rezzar). How give an idea of the libations poured out to Gad and +the shekels laid aside for Meni in the Quicksands Temple? + +Honora privately thought that building ugly, and it reminded her of a +collection of huge yellow fungi sprawling over the ground. A few of the +inevitable tortured cedars were around it. Between two of the larger +buildings was wedged a room dedicated to the worship of Bacchus, to-day +like a narrow river-gorge at flood time jammed with tree-trunks--some +of them, let us say, water-logged--and all grinding together with an +intolerable noise like a battle. If you happened to be passing the +windows, certain more or less intelligible sounds might separate +themselves from the bedlam. + +"Four to five on Quicksands!" + +"That stock isn't worth a d--n!" + +"She's gone to South Dakota." + +Honora, however, is an heretic, as we know. Without going definitely +into her reasons, these festivals had gradually become distasteful to +her. Perhaps it would be fairer to look at them through the eyes of Lily +Dallam, who was in her element on such days, and regarded them as the +most innocent and enjoyable of occasions, and perhaps they were. + +The view from the veranda, at least, appealed to our heroine's artistic +sense. The marshes in the middle distance, the shimmering sea beyond, +and the polo field laid down like a vast green carpet in the foreground; +while the players, in white breeches and bright shirts, on the agile +little horses that darted hither and thither across the turf lent an +added touch of colour and movement to the scene. Amongst them, Trixton +Brent most frequently caught the eye and held it. Once Honora perceived +him flying the length of the field, madly pursued, his mallet poised +lightly, his shirt bulging in the wind, his close-cropped head bereft +of a cap, regardless of the havoc and confusion behind him. He played, +indeed, with the cocksureness and individuality one might have expected; +and Honora, forgetting at moments the disturbing elements by which she +was surrounded, followed him with fascination. Occasionally his name +rippled from one end of the crowded veranda to the other, and she +experienced a curious and uncomfortable sensation when she heard it in +the mouths of these strangers. + +From time to time she found herself watching them furtively, comparing +them unconsciously with her Quicksands friends. Some of them she had +remarked before, at contests of a minor importance, and they seemed to +her to possess a certain distinction that was indefinable. They had +come to-day from many mysterious (and therefore delightful) places which +Honora knew only by name, and some had driven the twenty-five odd miles +from the bunting community of Banbury in coaches and even those new and +marvellous importations--French automobiles. When the game had ended, +and Lily Dallam was cajoling the club steward to set her tea-table at +once, a group of these visitors halted on the lawn, talking and laughing +gayly. Two of the younger men Honora recognized with a start, but for a +moment she could not place them--until suddenly she remembered that she +had seen them on her wedding trip at Hot Springs. The one who lisped was +Mr. Cuthbert, familiarly known as "Toots": the other, taller and slimmer +and paler, was Jimmy Wing. A third, the regularity of whose features +made one wonder at the perfection which nature could attain when she +chose, who had a certain Gallic appearance (and who, if the truth be +told, might have reminded an impartial eye of a slightly animated wax +clothing model), turned, stared, hesitated, and bowed to Lily Dallam. + +"That's Reggie Farwel, who did my house in town," she whispered to +Honora. "He's never been near me since it was finished. He's utterly +ruined." + +Honora was silent. She tried not to look at the group, in which there +were two women of very attractive appearance, and another man. + +"Those people are so superior," Mrs. Dallam continued. + +"I'm not surprised at Elsie Shorter. Ever since she married Jerry she's +stuck to the Graingers closer than a sister. That's Cecil Grainger, +my dear, the man who looks as though he were going to fall asleep any +moment. But to think of Abby Kame acting that way! Isn't it ridiculous, +Clara?" she cried, appealing to Mrs. Trowbridge. "They say that Cecil +Grainger never leaves her side. I knew her when she first married John +Kame, the dearest, simplest man that ever was. He was twenty years older +than Abby, and made his money in leather. She took the first steamer +after his funeral and an apartment in a Roman palace for the winter. As +soon as she decently could she made for England. The English will put up +with anybody who has a few million dollars, and I don't deny that Abby's +good-looking, and clever in her way. But it's absurd for her to come +over here and act as though we didn't exist. She needn't be afraid that +I'll speak to her. They say she became intimate with Bessie Grainger +through charities. One of your friend Mrs. Holt's charities, by the way, +Honora. Where are you going?" + +For Honora had risen. + +"I think I'll go home, Lily," she said; "I'm rather tired." + +"Home!" exclaimed Mrs. Dallam. "What can you be thinking of, my dear? +Nobody ever goes home after the Banbury match. The fun has just begun, +and we're all to stay here for dinner and dance afterwards. And Trixy +Brent promised me faithfully he'd' come here for tea, as soon as he +dressed." + +"I really can't stay, Lily. I--I don't feel up to it," said Honora, +desperately. + +"And you can't know how I counted on you! You look perfectly fresh, my +dear." + +Honora felt an overwhelming desire to hide herself, to be alone. +In spite of the cries of protest that followed her and drew--she +thought--an unnecessary and disagreeable attention to her departure, she +threaded her way among groups of people who stared after her. Her colour +was high, her heart beating painfully; a vague sense of rebellion and +shame within her for which she did not try to account. Rather than run +the gantlet of the crowded veranda she stepped out on the lawn, and +there encountered Trixton Brent. He had, in an incredibly brief time, +changed from his polo clothes to flannels and a straw hat. He looked at +her and whistled, and barred her passage. + +"Hello!" he cried. "Hoity-toity! Where are we going in such a hurry?" + +"Home," answered Honora, a little breathlessly, and added for his +deception, "the game's over, isn't it? I'm glad you won." + +Mr. Brent, however, continued to gaze at her penetratingly, and she +avoided his eyes. + +"But why are you rushing off like a flushed partridge?--no reference to +your complexion. Has there been a row?" + +"Oh, no--I was just--tired. Please let me go." + +"Being your good angel--or physician, as you choose--I have a +prescription for that kind of weariness," he said smilingly. +"I--anticipated such an attack. That's why I got into my clothes in such +record time." + +"I don't know what you mean," faltered Honora. "You are always imagining +all sorts of things about me that aren't true." + +"As a matter of fact," said Brent, "I have promised faithfully to do +a favor for certain friends of mine who have been clamouring to be +presented to you." + +"I can't--to-day--Mr. Brent," she cried. "I really don't feel +like-meeting people. I told Lily Dallam I was going home." + +The group, however, which had been the object of that lady's remarks was +already moving towards them--with the exception of Mrs. Shorter and Mr. +Farwell, who had left it. They greeted Mr. Brent with great cordiality. + +"Mrs. Kame," he said, "let me introduce Mrs. Spence. And Mrs. Spence, +Mr. Grainger, Mr. Wing, and Mr. Cuthbert. Mrs. Spence was just going +home." + +"Home!" echoed Mrs. Kame, "I thought Quicksands people never went home +after a victory." + +"I've scarcely been here long enough," replied Honora, "to have acquired +all of the Quicksands habits." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Kame, and looked at Honora again. "Wasn't that Mrs. +Dallam you were with? I used to know her, years ago, but she doesn't +speak to me any more." + +"Perhaps she thinks you've forgotten her," said Honora. + +"It would be impossible to forget Mrs. Dallam," declared Mrs. Kame. + +"So I should have thought," said Honora. + +Trixton Brent laughed, and Mrs. Kame, too, after a moment's hesitation. +She laid her hand familiarly on Mr. Brent's arm. + +"I haven't seen you all summer, Trixy," she said. "I hear you've been +here at Quicksands, stewing in that little packing-case of yours. Aren't +you coming into our steeplechase at Banbury. + +"I believe you went to school with my sister," said young Mr. Wing. + +"Oh, yes," answered Honora, somewhat surprised. "I caught a glimpse of +her once, in New York. I hope you will remember me to her." + +"And I've seen you before," proclaimed Mr. Cuthbert, "but I can't for +the life of me think where." + +Honora did not enlighten him. + +"I shan't forget, at any rate, Mrs. Spence," said Cecil Grainger, who +had not taken his eyes from her, except to blink. + +Mrs. Kame saved her the embarrassment of replying. + +"Can't we go somewhere and play bridge," Trixy demanded. + +"I'd be delighted to offer you the hospitality of my packing-case, +as you call it," said Brent, "but the dining-room ceiling fell down +Wednesday, and I'm having the others bolstered up as a mere matter of +precaution." + +"I suppose we couldn't get a fourth, anyway. Neither Jimmy nor Toots +plays. It's so stupid of them not to learn." + +"Mrs. Spence might, help us out," suggested Brent. + +"Do you play?" exclaimed Mrs. Kame, in a voice of mixed incredulity and +hope. + +"Play!" cried Mr. Brent, "she can teach Jerry Shorter or the Duchess of +Taunton." + +"The Duchess cheats," announced Cecil Grainger. "I caught her at it at +Cannes--" + +"Indeed, I don't play very well," Honora interrupted him, "and +besides--" + +"Suppose we go over to Mrs. Spence's house," Trixton Brent suggested. +"I'm sure she'd like to have us wouldn't you, Mrs. Spence?" + +"What a brilliant idea, Trixy!" exclaimed Mrs. Kame. + +"I should be delighted," said Honora, somewhat weakly. An impulse made +her glance toward the veranda, and for a fraction of a second she caught +the eye of Lily Dallam, who turned again to Mrs. Chandos. + +"I say," said Mr. Cuthbert, "I don't play--but I hope I may come along." + +"And me too," chimed in Mr. Wing. + +Honora, not free from a certain uneasiness of conscience, led the way +to the Brackens, flanked by Mr. Grainger and Mr. Cuthbert. Her frame of +mind was not an ideal one for a hostess; she was put out with Trixton +Brent, and she could not help wondering whether these people would have +made themselves so free with another house. When tea was over, however, +and the bridge had begun, her spirits rose; or rather, a new and strange +excitement took possession of her that was not wholly due to the novel +and revolutionary experience of playing, for money--and winning. Her +star being in the ascendant, as we may perceive. She had drawn Mrs. +Kame for a partner, and the satisfaction and graciousness of that lady +visibly grew as the score mounted: even the skill of Trixton Brent could +not triumph over the hands which the two ladies held. + +In the intervals the talk wandered into regions unfamiliar to Honora, +and she had a sense that her own horizon was being enlarged. A new +vista, at least, had been cut: possibilities became probabilities. Even +when Mrs. Kame chose to ridicule Quicksands Honora was silent, so keenly +did she feel the justice of her guest's remarks; and the implication was +that Honora did not belong there. When train time arrived and they were +about to climb into Trixton Brent's omnibus--for which he had obligingly +telephoned--Mrs. Kame took Honora's band in both her own. Some good +thing, after all, could come out of this community--such was the +triumphant discovery the lady's manner implied. + +"My dear, don't you ever come to Banbury?" she asked. "I'd be so glad to +see you. I must get Trixy to drive you over some day for lunch. We've +had such a good time, and Cecil didn't fall asleep once. Quite a record. +You saved our lives, really." + +"Are you going to be in town this winter?" Mr. Grainger inquired. + +"I,--I suppose so--replied Honora, for the moment taken aback, although +I haven't decided just where." + +"I shall look forward to seeing you," he said. + +This hope was expressed even more fervently by Mr. Cuthbert and Mr. +Wing, and the whole party waved her a cordial good-by as the carriage +turned the circle. Trixton Brent, with his hands in his pockets, stood +facing her under the electric light on the porch. + +"Well?" he said. + +"Well," repeated Honora. + +"Nice people," said Mr. Brent. + +Honora bridled. + +"You invited them here," she said. "I must say I think it, was +rather--presumptuous. And you've got me into no end of trouble with Lily +Dallam." + +He laughed as he held open the screen door for her. + +"I wonder whether a good angel was ever so abused," he said. + +"A good angel," she repeated, smiling at him in spite of herself. + +"Or knight-errant," he continued, "whichever you choose. You want to get +out of Quicksands--I'm trying to make it easy for you. Before you leave +you have to arrange some place to go. Before we are off with the old +we'd better be on with the new." + +"Oh, please don't say such things," she cried, "they're so--so sordid." +She looked searchingly into his face. "Do I really seem to you like +that?" + +Her lip was quivering, and she was still under the influence of the +excitement which the visit of these people had brought about. + +"No," said Brent--coming very close to her, "no, you don't. That's the +extraordinary part of it. The trouble with you, Honora, is that you want +something badly very badly--and you haven't yet found out what it is. + +"And you won't find out," he added, "until you have tried everything. +Therefore am I a good Samaritan, or something like it." + +She looked at him with startled eyes, breathing deeply. + +"I wonder if that is so!" she said, in a low voice. + +"Not until you have had and broken every toy in the shop," he declared. +"Out of the mouths of men of the world occasionally issues wisdom. I'm +going to help you get the toys. Don't you think I'm kind?" + +"And isn't this philanthropic mood a little new to you?" she asked. + +"I thought I had exhausted all novelties," he answered. "Perhaps that's +the reason why I enjoy it." + +She turned and walked slowly into the drawing-room, halted, and stood +staring at the heap of gold and yellow bills that Mr. Grainger had +deposited in front of the place where she had sat. Her sensation was +akin to sickness. She reached out with a kind of shuddering fascination +and touched the gold. + +"I think," she said, speaking rather to herself than to Brent, "I'll +give it to charity." + +"If it is possible to combine a meritorious act with good policy, I +should suggest giving it to Mrs. Grainger for the relief of oppressed +working girls," he said. + +Honora started. + +"I wonder why Howard doesn't come she exclaimed, looking at the clock. + +"Probably because he is holding nothing but full hands and flushes," +hazarded Mr. Brent. "Might I propose myself for dinner?" + +"When so many people are clamouring for you?" she asked. + +"Even so," he said. + +"I think I'll telephone to the Club," said Honora, and left the room. + +It was some time before her husband responded to the call; and then he +explained that if Honora didn't object, he was going to a man's dinner +in a private room. The statement was not unusual. + +"But, Howard," she said, "I--I wanted you particularly to-night." + +"I thought you were going to dine with Lily Dallam. She told me you +were. Are you alone?" + +"Mr. Brent is here. He brought over some Banbury people to play bridge. +They've gone." + +"Oh, Brent will amuse you," he replied. "I didn't know you were going to +be home, and I've promised these men. I'll come back early." + +She hung up the receiver thoughtfully, paused a moment, and went back to +the drawing-room. Brent looked up. + +"Well," he said, "was I right?" + +"You seem always to be right," Honora, sighed. + +After dinner they sat in the screened part of the porch which Mrs. Fern +had arranged very cleverly as an outside room. Brent had put a rug over +Honora's knees, for the ocean breath that stirred the leaves was cold. +Across the darkness fragments of dance music drifted fitfully from the +Club, and died away; and at intervals, when the embers of his cigar +flared up, she caught sight of her companion's face. + +She found him difficult to understand. There are certain rules of thumb +in every art, no doubt,--even in that most perilous one of lion-taming. +But here was a baffling, individual lion. She liked him best, she told +herself, when he purred platonically, but she could by no means be sure +that his subjection was complete. Sometimes he had scratched her in his +play. And however natural it is to desire a lion for one's friend, to be +eaten is both uncomfortable and inglorious. + +"That's a remarkable husband of yours," he said at length. + +"I shouldn't have said that you were a particularly good judge of +husbands," she retorted, after a moment of surprise. + +He acknowledged with a laugh the justice of this observation. + +"I stand corrected. He is by no means a remarkable husband. Permit me to +say he is a remarkable man." + +"What makes you think so?" asked Honora, considerably disturbed. + +"Because he induced you to marry him, for one thing," said Brent. "Of +course he got you before you knew what you were worth, but we must give +him credit for discovery and foresight." + +"Perhaps," Honora could not resist replying, "perhaps he didn't know +what he was getting." + +"That's probably true," Brent assented, "or he'd be sitting here now, +where I am, instead of playing poker. Although there is something in +matrimony that takes the bloom off the peach." + +"I think that's a horrid, cynical remark," said Honora. + +"Well," he said, "we speak according to our experiences--that is, if +we're not inclined to be hypocritical. Most women are." + +Honora was silent. He had thrown away his cigar, and she could no longer +see his face. She wondered whither he was leading. + +"How would you like to see your husband president of a trust company?" +he said suddenly. + +"Howard--president of a trust company!" she exclaimed. + +"Why not?" he demanded. And added enigmatically, "Smaller men have +been." + +"I wish you wouldn't joke about Howard," she said. + +"How does the idea strike you?" he persisted. "Ambition +satisfied--temporarily; Quicksands a mile-stone on a back road; another +toy to break; husband a big man in the community, so far as the eye can +see; visiting list on Fifth Avenue, and all that sort of thing." + +"I once told you you could be brutal," she said. + +"You haven't told me what you thought of the idea." + +"I wish you'd be sensible once in a while," she exclaimed. + +"Howard Spence, President of the Orange Trust Company!" he recited. "I +suppose no man is a hero to his wife. Does it sound so incredible?" + +It did. But Honora did not say so. + +"What have I to do with it?" she asked, in pardonable doubt as to his +seriousness. + +"Everything," answered Brent. "Women of your type usually have. They +make and mar without rhyme or reason--set business by the ears, alter +the gold reserve, disturb the balance of trade, and nobody ever suspects +it. Old James Wing and I have got a trust company organized, and the +building up, and the man Wing wanted for president backed out." + +Honora sat up. + +"Why--why did he 'back out'?" she demanded. + +"He preferred to stay where he was, I suppose," replied Brent, in +another tone. "The point is that the place is empty. I'll give it to +YOU." + +"To me?" + +"Certainly," said Brent, "I don't pretend to care anything about +your husband. He'll do as well as the next man. His duties are pretty +well--defined." + +Again she was silent. But after a moment dropped back in her chair and +laughed uneasily. + +"You're preposterous," she said; "I can't think why I let you talk to me +in this way." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. OF MENTAL PROCESSES--FEMININE AND INSOLUBLE + +Honora may be pardoned for finally ascribing to Mr. Brent's somewhat +sardonic sense of humour his remarks concerning her husband's elevation +to a conspicuous position in the world of finance. Taken in any other +sense than a joke, they were both insulting and degrading, and made her +face burn when she thought of them. After he had gone--or rather after +she had dismissed him--she took a book upstairs to wait for Howard, but +she could not read. At times she wished she had rebuked Trixton Brent +more forcibly, although he was not an easy person to rebuke; and again +she reflected that, had she taken the matter too seriously, she would +have laid herself open to his ridicule. The lion was often unwittingly +rough, and perhaps that was part of his fascination. + +If Howard had come home before midnight it is possible that she might +have tried to sound him as to his relations with Trixton Brent. That +gentleman, she remembered, had the reputation of being a peculiarly +hardheaded business man, and it was of course absurd that he should +offer her husband a position merely to please her. And her imagination +failed her when she tried to think of Howard as the president of a trust +company. She was unable to picture him in a great executive office: + +This train of thought led her to the unaccustomed task of analyzing his +character. For the first time since her marriage comparisons crept +into her mind, and she awoke to the fact that he was not a masterful +man--even among men. For all his self-confidence-self-assurance, +perhaps, would be the better word--he was in reality a follower, not +a leader; a gleaner. He did not lack ideas. She tried to arrest the +process in her brain when she got as far as asking herself whether it +might not be that he lacked ideals. Since in business matters he never +had taken her into his confidence, and since she would not at any rate +have understood such things, she had no proof of such a failing. But one +or two vague remarks of Trixton Brent's which she recalled, and Howard's +own request that she should be friendly with Brent, reenforced her +instinct on this point. + +When she heard her husband's footstep on the porch, she put out her +light, but still lay thinking in the darkness. Her revelations had +arrived at the uncomfortable stage where they began to frighten her, +and with an effort she forced herself to turn to the other side of the +account. The hour was conducive to exaggerations. Perfection in husbands +was evidently a state not to be considered by any woman in her right +senses. He was more or less amenable, and he was prosperous, although +definite news of that prosperity never came from him--Quicksands +always knew of it first. An instance of this second-hand acquisition of +knowledge occurred the very next morning, when Lily Dallam, with much +dignity, walked into Honora's little sitting-room. There was no apparent +reason why dignity should not have been becoming to Lily Dallam, for she +was by no means an unimpressive-looking woman; but the assumption by her +of that quality always made her a little tragic or (if one chanced to be +in the humour--Honora was not) a little ridiculous. + +"I suppose I have no pride," she said, as she halted within a few feet +of the doorway. + +"Why, Lily!" exclaimed Honora, pushing back the chair from her desk, and +rising. + +But Mrs. Dallam did not move. + +"I suppose I have no pride," she repeated in a dead voice, "but I just +couldn't help coming over and giving you a chance." + +"Giving me a chance?" said Honora. + +"To explain--after the way you treated me at the polo game. If I hadn't +seen it with my own eyes, I shouldn't have believed it. I don't think I +should have trusted my own eyes," Mrs. Dallam went so far as to affirm, +"if Lula Chandos and Clara Trowbridge and others hadn't been there and +seen it too; I shouldn't have believed it." + +Honora was finding penitence a little difficult. But her heart was kind. + +"Do sit down, Lily," she begged. "If I've offended you in any way, I'm +exceedingly sorry--I am, really. You ought to know me well enough to +understand that I wouldn't do anything to hurt your feelings." + +"And when I counted on you so, for my tea and dinner at the club!" +continued Mrs. Dallam. "There were other women dying to come. And you +said you had a headache, and were tired." + +"I was," began Honora, fruitlessly. + +"And you were so popular in Quicksands--everybody was crazy about you. +You were so sweet and so unspoiled. I might have known that it couldn't +last. And now, because Abby Kame and Cecil Grainger and--" + +"Lily, please don't say such things!" Honora implored, revolted. + +"Of course you won't be satisfied now with anything less than Banbury +or Newport. But you can't say I didn't warn you, Honora, that they are +a horrid, selfish, fast lot," Lily Dallam declared, and brushed her eyes +with her handkerchief. "I did love you." + +"If you'll only be reasonable a moment, Lily,--" said Honora. + +"Reasonable! I saw you with my own eyes. Five minutes after you left +me they all started for your house, and Lula Chandos said it was the +quickest cure of a headache she had ever seen." + +"Lily," Honora began again, with exemplary patience, "when people invite +themselves to one's house, it's a little difficult to refuse them +hospitality, isn't it?" + +"Invite themselves?" + +"Yes," replied Honora. "If I weren't--fond of you, too, I shouldn't +make this explanation. I was tired. I never felt less like entertaining +strangers. They wanted to play bridge, there wasn't a quiet spot in +the Club where they could go. They knew I was on my way home, and they +suggested my house. That is how it happened." + +Mrs. Dallam was silent a moment. + +"May I have one of Howard's cigarettes?" she asked, and added, after +this modest wish had been supplied, "that's just like them. They're +willing to make use of anybody." + +"I meant," said Honora, "to have gone to your house this morning and to +have explained how it happened." + +Another brief silence, broken by Lily Dallam. + +"Did you notice the skirt of that suit Abby Kame had on?", she asked. +"I'm sure she paid a fabulous price for it in Paris, and it's exactly +like one I ordered on Tuesday." + +The details of the rest of this conversation may be omitted. That Honora +was forgiven, and Mrs. Dallam's spirits restored may be inferred from +her final remark. + +"My dear, what do you think of Sid and Howard making twenty thousand +dollars apiece in Sassafras Copper? Isn't it too lovely! I'm having a +little architect make me plans for a conservatory. You know I've always +been dying for one--I don't see how I've lived all these years without +it." + +Honora, after her friend had gone, sat down in one of the wicker chairs +on the porch. She had a very vague idea as to how much twenty thousand +dollars was, but she reflected that while they had lived in Rivington +Howard must have made many similar sums, of which she was unaware. +Gradually she began to realize, however, that her resentment of the +lack of confidence of her husband was by no means the only cause of the +feeling that took possession of and overwhelmed her. Something like it +she had experienced before: to-day her thoughts seemed to run through +her in pulsations, like waves of heat, and she wondered that she could +have controlled herself while listening to Lily Dallam. + +Mrs. Dallam's reproaches presented themselves to Honora in new aspects. +She began to feel now, with an intensity that frightened her, distaste +and rebellion. It was intolerable that she should be called to account +for the people she chose to have in her house, that any sort of pressure +should be brought to bear on her to confine her friends to Quicksands. +Treason, heresy, disloyalty to the cult of that community--in reality +these, and not a breach of engagement, were the things of which she +had been accused. She saw now. She would not be tied to Quicksands--she +would not, she would not, she would not! She owed it no allegiance. Her +very soul rebelled at the thought, and cried out that she was made for +something better, something higher than the life she had been leading. +She would permit no one forcibly to restrict her horizon. + +Just where and how this higher and better life was to be found +Honora did not know; but the belief of her childhood--that it existed +somewhere--was still intact. Her powers of analysis, we see, are only +just budding, and she did not and could not define the ideal existence +which she so unflaggingly sought. Of two of its attributes only she was +sure--that it was to be free from restraint and from odious comparisons. +Honora's development, it may be remarked, proceeds by the action of +irritants, and of late her protest against Quicksands and what it +represented had driven her to other books besides the treatise on +bridge. The library she had collected at Rivington she had brought with +her, and was adding to it from time to time. Its volumes are neither +sufficiently extensive or profound to enumerate. + +Those who are more or less skilled in psychology may attempt to +establish a sequence between the events and reflections just related +and the fact that, one morning a fortnight later, Honora found herself +driving northward on Fifth Avenue in a hansom cab. She was in a +pleasurable state of adventurous excitement, comparable to that Columbus +must have felt when the shores of the Old World had disappeared below +the horizon. During the fortnight we have skipped Honora had been to +town several times, and had driven and walked through certain streets: +inspiration, courage, and decision had all arrived at once this morning, +when at the ferry she had given the cabman this particular address on +Fifth Avenue. + +The cab, with the jerking and thumping peculiar to hansoms, made a +circle and drew up at the curb. But even then a moment of irresolution +intervened, and she sat staring through the little side window at the +sign, T. Gerald Shorter, Real Estate, in neat gold letters over the +basement floor of the building. + +"Here y'are, Miss," said the cabman through the hole in the roof. + +Honora descended, and was almost at the flight of steps leading down to +the office door when a familiar figure appeared coming out of it. It was +that of Mr. Toots Cuthbert, arrayed in a faultless morning suit, his tie +delicately suggestive of falling leaves; and there dangled over his arm +the slenderest of walking sticks. + +"Mrs. Spence!" he lisped, with every appearance of joy. + +"Mr. Cuthbert!" she cried. + +"Going in to see Jerry?" he inquired after he had put on his hat, +nodding up at the sign. + +"I--that is, yes, I had thought of it," she answered. + +"Town house?" said Mr. Cuthbert, with a knowing smile. + +"I did have an idea of looking at houses," she confessed, somewhat taken +aback. + +"I'm your man," announced Mr. Cuthbert. + +"You!" exclaimed Honora, with an air of considering the lilies of the +field. But he did not seem to take offence. + +"That's my business," he proclaimed,--"when in town. Jerry gives me a +commission. Come in and see him, while I get a list and some keys. By +the way, you wouldn't object to telling him you were a friend of mine, +would you?" + +"Not at all," said Honora, laughing. + +Mr. Shorter was a jovial gentleman in loose-fitting clothes, and he was +exceedingly glad to meet Mr. Cuthbert's friend. + +"What kind of a house do you want, Mrs. Spence?" he asked. "Cuthbert +tells me this morning that the Whitworth house has come into the market. +You couldn't have a better location than that, on the Avenue between the +Cathedral and the Park." + +"Oh," said Honora with a gasp, "that's much too expensive, I'm sure. +And there are only two of us." She hesitated, a little alarmed at the +rapidity with which affairs were proceeding, and added: "I ought to tell +you that I've not really decided to take a house. I wished to--to see +what there was to be had, and then I should have to consult my husband." + +She gazed very seriously into Mr. Shorter's brown eyes, which became +very wide and serious, too. But all the time it seemed to her that other +parts of him were laughing. + +"Husbands," he declared, "are kill-joys. What have they got to do with a +house--except to sleep in it? Now I haven't the pleasure of knowing you +as well as I hope to one of these days, Mrs. Spence--" + +"Oh, I say!" interrupted Mr. Cuthbert. + +"But I venture to predict, on a slight acquaintance," continued Mr. +Shorter, undisturbed, "that you will pick out the house you want, and +that your husband will move into it." + +Honora could not help laughing. And Mr. Shorter leaned back in his +revolving chair and laughed, too, in so alarming a manner as to lead +her to fear he would fall over backwards. But Mr. Cuthbert, who did not +appear to perceive the humour in this conversation, extracted some keys +and several pasteboard slips from a rack in the corner. Suddenly Mr. +Shorter jerked himself upright again, and became very solemn. + +"Where's my hat?" he demanded. + +"What do you want with your hat?" Mr. Cuthbert inquired. + +"Why, I'm going with you, of course," Mr. Shorter replied. "I've decided +to take a personal interest in this matter. You may regard my presence, +Cuthbert, as justified by an artistic passion for my profession. I +should never forgive myself if Mrs. Spence didn't get just the right +house." + +"Oh," said Mr. Cuthbert, "I'll manage that all right. I thought you were +going to see the representative of a syndicate at eleven." + +Mr. Shorter, with a sigh, acknowledged this necessity, and escorted +Honora gallantly through the office and across the sidewalk to the +waiting hansom. Cuthbert got in beside her. + +"Jerry's a joker," he observed as they drove off, "you mustn't mind +him." + +"I think he's delightful," said Honora. + +"One wouldn't believe that a man of his size and appearance could be so +fond of women," said Mr. Cuthbert. "He's the greatest old lady-killer +that ever breathed. For two cents he would have come with us this +morning, and let a five thousand dollar commission go. Do you know Mrs. +Shorter?" + +"No," replied Honora. "She looks most attractive. I caught a glimpse of +her at the polo that day with you." + +"I've been at her house in Newport ever since. Came down yesterday +to try to earn some money," he continued, cheerfully making himself +agreeable. "Deuced clever woman, much too clever for me and Jerry too. +Always in a tete-a-tete with an antiquarian or a pathologist, or a +psychologist, and tells novelists what to put into their next books and +jurists how to decide cases. Full of modern and liberal ideas--believes +in free love and all that sort of thing, and gives Jerry the dickens for +practising it." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Honora. + +Mr. Cuthbert, however, did not appear to realize that he had shocked +her. + +"By the way," he asked, "have you seen Cecil Grainger since the +Quicksands game?" + +"No," she replied. "Has Mr. Grainger been at Quicksands since?" + +"Nobody knows where he's been," answered Mr. Cuthbert. "It's a mystery. +He hasn't been home--at Newport, I mean-for a fortnight. He's never +stayed away so long without letting any one know where he is. Naturally +they thought he was at Mrs. Kame's in Banbury, but she hasn't laid eyes +on him. It's a mystery. My own theory is that he went to sleep in a +parlour car and was sent to the yards, and hasn't waked up." + +"And isn't Mrs. Grainger worried?" asked Honora. + +"Oh, you never can tell anything about her," he said. "Do you know her? +She's a sphinx. All the Pendletons are Stoics. And besides, she's been +so busy with this Charities Conference that she hasn't had time to think +of Cecil. Who's that?" + +"That" was a lady from Rivington, one of Honora's former neighbours, to +whom she had bowed. Life, indeed, is full of contrasts. Mr. Cuthbert, +too, was continually bowing and waving to acquaintances on the Avenue. + +Thus pleasantly conversing, they arrived at the first house on the list, +and afterwards went through a succession of them. Once inside, Honora +would look helplessly about her in the darkness while her escort would +raise the shades, admitting a gloomy light on bare interiors or shrouded +furniture. + +And the rents: Four, five, six, and seven and eight thousand dollars +a year. Pride prevented her from discussing these prices with Mr. +Cuthbert; and in truth, when lunch time came, she had seen nothing which +realized her somewhat vague but persistent ideals. + +"I'm so much obliged to you," she said, "and I hope you'll forgive me +for wasting your time." + +Mr. Cuthbert smiled broadly, and Honora smiled too. + +Indeed, there was something ludicrous in the remark. He assumed an +attitude of reflection. + +"I imagine you wouldn't care to go over beyond Lexington Avenue, would +you? I didn't think to ask you." + +"No," she replied, blushing a little, "I shouldn't care to go over as +far as that." + +He pondered a while longer, when suddenly his face lighted up. + +"I've got it!" he cried, "the very thing--why didn't. I think of it? +Dicky Farnham's house, or rather his wife's house. I'll get it straight +after a while,--she isn't his wife any more, you know; she married +Eustace Rindge last month. That's the reason it's for rent. Dicky says +he'll never get married again--you bet! They planned it together, laid +the corner-stone and all that sort of thing, and before it was finished +she had a divorce and had gone abroad with Rindge. I saw her before she +sailed, and she begged me to rent it. But it isn't furnished." + +"I might look at it," said Honora, dubiously. + +"I'm sure it will just suit you," he declared with enthusiasm. "It's a +real find. We'll drive around by the office and get the keys." + +The house was between Fifth Avenue and Madison, on a cross street +not far below Fifty-Ninth, and Honora had scarcely entered the little +oak-panelled hall before she had forgotten that Mr. Cuthbert was a real +estate agent--a most difficult thing to remember. + +Upstairs, the drawing-room was flooded with sunlight that poured in +through a window with stone mullions and leaded panes extending the +entire width of the house. Against the wall stood a huge stone mantel of +the Tudor period, and the ceiling was of wood. Behind the little hall a +cosey library lighted by a well, and behind that an ample dining-room. +And Honora remembered to have seen, in a shop on Fourth Avenue, just the +sideboard for such a setting. + +On the third floor, as Mr. Cuthbert pointed out, there was a bedroom and +boudoir for Mrs. Spence, and a bedroom and dressing-room for Mr. Spence. +Into the domestic arrangement of the house, however important, we need +not penetrate. The rent was eight thousand dollars, which Mr. Cuthbert +thought extremely reasonable. + +"Eight thousand dollars!" As she stood with her back turned, looking out +on the street, some trick of memory brought into her mind the fact that +she had once heard her uncle declare that he had bought his house and +lot for that exact sum. And as cashier of Mr. Isham's bank, he did not +earn so much in a year. + +She had found the house, indeed, but the other and mightier half of the +task remained, of getting Howard into it. In the consideration of this +most difficult of problems Honora, who in her exaltation had beheld +herself installed in every room, grew suddenly serious. She was startled +out of her reflections by a remark of almost uncanny penetration on the +part of Mr. Cuthbert. + +"Oh, he'll come round all right, when he sees the house," that young +gentleman declared. + +Honora turned quickly, and, after a moment of astonishment, laughed in +spite of herself. It was impossible not to laugh with Mr. Cuthbert, so +irresistible and debonair was he, so confiding and sympathetic, that +he became; before one knew it, an accomplice. Had he not poured out +to Honora, with a charming gayety and frankness, many of his financial +troubles? + +"I'm afraid he'll think it frightfully expensive," she answered, +becoming thoughtful once more. And it did not occur to her that neither +of them had mentioned the individual to whom they referred. + +"Wait until he's feeling tiptop," Mr. Cuthbert advised, "and then bring +him up here in a hurry. I say, I hope you do take the house," he added, +with a boyish seriousness after she had refused his appeal to lunch with +him, "and that you will let me come and see you once in a while." + +She lunched alone, in a quiet corner of the dining-room of one of the +large hotels, gazing at intervals absently out of the window. And by the +middle of the afternoon she found herself, quite unexpectedly, in +the antique furniture shop, gazing at the sideboard and a set of +leather-seated Jacobean chairs, and bribing the dealer with a smile to +hold them for a few days until she could decide whether she wished them. +In a similar mood of abstraction she boarded the ferry, but it was not +until the boat had started on its journey that she became aware of a +trim, familiar figure in front of her, silhouetted against the ruffed +blue waters of the river--Trixton Brent's. And presently, as though the +concentration of her thoughts upon his back had summoned him, he turned. + +"Where have you been all this time?" she asked. "I haven't seen you for +an age." + +"To Seattle." + +"To Seattle!" she exclaimed. "What were you doing there?" + +"Trying to forget you," he replied promptly, "and incidentally +attempting to obtain control of some properties. Both efforts, I may +add, were unsuccessful." + +"I'm sorry," said Honora. + +"And what mischief," he demanded, "have you been up to?" + +"You'll never guess!" she exclaimed. + +"Preparing for the exodus," he hazarded. + +"You surely don't expect me to stay in Quicksands all winter?" she +replied, a little guiltily. + +"Quicksands," he declared, "has passed into history." + +"You always insist upon putting a wrong interpretation upon what I do," +she complained. + +He laughed. + +"What interpretation do you put on it?" he asked. + +"A most natural and praiseworthy one," she answered. "Education, +improvement, growth--these things are as necessary for a woman as for +a man. Of course I don't expect you to believe that--your idea of women +not being a very exalted one." + +He did not reply, for at that instant the bell rang, the passengers +pressed forward about them, and they were soon in the midst of the +confusion of a landing. It was not until they were seated in adjoining +chairs of the parlour-car that the conversation was renewed. + +"When do you move to town?" he inquired. + +However simple Mr. Brent's methods of reasoning may appear to others, +his apparent clairvoyance never failed to startle Honora. + +"Somebody has told you that I've been looking at houses!" she exclaimed. + +"Have you found one?" + +She hesitated. + +"Yes--I have found one. It belongs to some people named Farnham--they're +divorced." + +"Dicky Farnham's ex-wife," he supplied. "I know where it +is--unexceptionable neighbourhood and all that sort of thing." + +"And it's just finished," continued Honora, her enthusiasm gaining on +her as she spoke of the object which had possessed her mind for four +hours. "It's the most enchanting house, and so sunny for New York. If I +had built it myself it could not have suited me better. Only--" + +"Only--" repeated Trixton Brent, smiling. + +"Well," she said slowly, "I really oughtn't to talk about it. I--I +haven't said anything to Howard yet, and he may not like it. I ran +across it by the merest accident." + +"What will you give me," he said, "if I can induce Howard to like it?" + +"My eternal friendship," she laughed. + +"That's not enough," said Trixton Brent. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. INTRODUCING A REVOLUTIONIZING VEHICLE + +"Howard," said Honora that evening, "I've been going through houses +to-day." + +"Houses!" he exclaimed, looking up from his newspaper. + +"And I've been most fortunate," she continued. "I found one that Mrs. +Farnham built--she is now Mrs. Rindge. It is just finished, and so +attractive. If I'd looked until doomsday I couldn't have done any +better." + +"But great Scott!" he ejaculated, "what put the notion of a town house +into your head?" + +"Isn't it high time to be thinking of the winter?" she asked. "It's +nearly the end of September." + +He was inarticulate for a few moments, in an evident desperate attempt +to rally his forces to meet such an unforeseen attack. + +"Who said anything about going to town?" he inquired. + +"Now, Howard, don't be foolish," she replied. "Surely you didn't expect +to stay in Quicksands all winter?" + +"Foolish!" he repeated, and added inconsequently, "why not?" + +"Because," said Honora, calmly, "I have a life to lead as well as you." + +"But you weren't satisfied until you got to Quicksands, and now you want +to leave it." + +"I didn't bargain to stay here in the winter," she declared. "You know +very well that if you were unfortunate it would be different. But you're +quite prosperous." + +"How do you know?" he demanded unguardedly. + +"Quicksands tells me," she said. "It is--a little humiliating not to +have more of your confidence, and to hear such things from outsiders." + +"You never seemed interested in business matters," he answered uneasily. + +"I should be," said Honora, "if you would only take the trouble to tell +me about them." She stood up. "Howard, can't you see that it is making +us--grow apart? If you won't tell me about yourself and what you're +doing, you drive me to other interests. I am your wife, and I ought to +know--I want to know. The reason I don't understand is because you've +never taken the trouble to teach me. I wish to lead my own life, it is +true--to develop. I don't want to be like these other women down here. +I--I was made for something better. I'm sure of it. But I wish my +life to be joined to yours, too--and it doesn't seem to be. And +sometimes--I'm afraid I can't explain it to you--sometimes I feel lonely +and frightened, as though I might do something desperate. And I don't +know what's going to become of me." + +He laid down his newspaper and stared at her helplessly, with the air of +a man who suddenly finds himself at sea in a small boat without oars. + +"Oh, you can't understand!" she cried. "I might have known you never +could." + +He was, indeed, thoroughly perplexed and uncomfortable: unhappy might +not be too strong a word. He got up awkwardly and put his hand on her +arm. She did not respond. He drew her, limp and unresisting, down on the +lounge beside him. + +"For heaven's sake, what is the matter, Honora?" he faltered. "I--I +thought we were happy. You were getting on all right, and seemed to be +having a good time down here. You never said anything about--this." + +She turned her head and looked at him--a long, searching look with +widened eyes. + +"No," she said slowly, "you don't understand. I suppose it isn't your +fault." + +"I'll try," he said, "I don't like to see you--upset like this. I'll do +anything I can to make you happy." + +"Not things, not--not toys," Trixton Brent's expression involuntarily +coming to her lips. "Oh, can't you see I'm not that kind of a woman? +I don't want to be bought. I want you, whatever you are, if you are. I +want to be saved. Take care of me--see a little more of me--be a little +interested in what I think. God gave me a mind, and--other men have +discovered it. You don't know, you can't know, what temptations you +subject me to. It isn't right, Howard. And oh, it is humiliating not to +be able to interest one's husband." + +"But you do interest me," he protested. + +She shook her head. + +"Not so much as your business," she said; "not nearly so much." + +"Perhaps I have been too absorbed," he confessed. "One thing has +followed another. I didn't suspect that you felt this way. Come, I'll +try to brace up." He pressed her to him. "Don't feel badly. You're +overwrought. You've exaggerated the situation, Honora. We'll go in on +the eight o'clock train together and look at the house--although I'm +afraid it's a little steep," he added cautiously. + +"I don't care anything about the house," said Honora. "I don't want it." + +"There!" he said soothingly, "you'll feel differently in the morning. +We'll go and look at it, anyway." + +Her quick ear, however, detected an undertone which, if not precisely +resentment, was akin to the vexation that an elderly gentleman might be +justified in feeling who has taken the same walk for twenty years, +and is one day struck by a falling brick. Howard had not thought of +consulting her in regard to remaining all winter in Quicksands. And, +although he might not realize it himself, if he should consent to go to +New York one reason for his acquiescence would be that the country in +winter offered a more or less favourable atmosphere for the recurrence +of similar unpleasant and unaccountable domestic convulsions. Business +demands peace at any price. And the ultimatum at Rivington, though +delivered in so different a manner, recurred to him. + +The morning sunlight, as is well known, is a dispeller of moods, a +disintegrator of the night's fantasies. It awoke Honora at what for her +was a comparatively early hour, and as she dressed rapidly she heard her +husband whistling in his room. It is idle to speculate on the phenomenon +taking place within her, and it may merely be remarked in passing that +she possessed a quality which, in a man, leads to a career and fame. +Unimagined numbers of America's women possess that quality--a fact that +is becoming more and more apparent every day. + +"Why, Honora!" Howard exclaimed, as she appeared at the breakfast table. +"What's happened to you?" + +"Have you forgotten already," she asked, smilingly, as she poured out +her coffee, "that we are going to town together?" + +He readjusted his newspaper against the carafe. + +"How much do you think Mrs. Farnham--or Mrs. Rindge--is worth?" he +asked. + +"I'm sure I don't know," she replied. + +"Old Marshall left her five million dollars." + +"What has that to do with it?" inquired Honora. + +"She isn't going to rent, especially in that part of town, for nothing." + +"Wouldn't it be wiser, Howard, to wait and see the house. You know you +proposed it yourself, and it won't take very much of your time." + +He returned to a perusal of the financial column, but his eye from +time to time wandered from the sheet to his wife, who was reading her +letters. + +"Howard," she said, "I feel dreadfully about Mrs. Holt. We haven't been +at Silverdale all summer. Here's a note from her saying she'll be in +town to-morrow for the Charities Conference, asking me to come to see +her at her hotel. I think I'll go to Silverdale a little later." + +"Why don't you?" he said. "It would do you good." + +"And you?" she asked. + +"My only day of the week is Sunday, Honora. You know that. And I +wouldn't spend another day at Silverdale if they gave me a deed to the +property," he declared. + +On the train, when Howard had returned from the smoking car and they +were about to disembark at Long Island City, they encountered Mr. +Trixton Brent. + +"Whither away?" he cried in apparent astonishment. "Up at dawn, and the +eight o'clock train!" + +"We were going to look at a house," explained Honora, "and Howard has no +other time." + +"I'll go, too," declared Mr. Brent, promptly. "You mightn't think me a +judge of houses, but I am. I've lived in so many bad ones that I know a +good one when I see it now." + +"Honora has got a wild notion into her head that I'm going to take +the Farnham house," said Howard, smiling. There, on the deck of the +ferryboat, in the flooding sunlight, the idea seemed to give him +amusement. With the morning light Pharaoh must have hardened his heart. + +"Well, perhaps you are," said Mr. Brent, conveying to Honora his delight +in the situation by a scarcely perceptible wink. "I shouldn't like to +take the other end of the bet. Why shouldn't you? You're fat and healthy +and making money faster than you can gather it in." + +Howard coughed, and laughed a little, uncomfortably. Trixton Brent was +not a man to offend. + +"Honora has got that delusion, too," he replied. He steeled himself in +his usual manner for the ordeal to come by smoking a cigarette, for +the arrival of such a powerful ally on his wife's side lent a different +aspect to the situation. + +Honora, during this colloquy, was silent. She was a little +uncomfortable, and pretended not to see Mr. Brent's wink. + +"Incredible as it may seem, I expected to have my automobile ready this +morning," he observed; "we might have gone in that. It landed three +days ago, but so far it has failed to do anything but fire off revolver +shots." + +"Oh, I do wish you had it," said Honora, relieved by the change of +subject. "To drive in one must be such a wonderful sensation." + +"I'll let you know when it stops shooting up the garage and consents to +move out," he said. "I'll take you down to Quicksands in it." + +The prospective arrival of Mr. Brent's French motor car, which +was looked for daily, had indeed been one of the chief topics of +conversation at Quicksands that summer. He could appear at no lunch +or dinner party without being subjected to a shower of questions as to +where it was, and as many as half a dozen different women among whom was +Mrs. Chandos--declared that he had promised to bring them out from New +York on the occasion of its triumphal entry into the colony. Honora, +needless to say, had betrayed no curiosity. + +Neither Mr. Shorter nor Mr. Cuthbert had appeared at the real estate +office when, at a little after nine o'clock; Honora asked for the keys. +And an office boy, perched on the box seat of the carriage, drove with +them to the house and opened the wrought-iron gate that guarded the +entrance, and the massive front door. Honora had a sense of unreality +as they entered, and told herself it was obviously ridiculous that she +should aspire to such a dwelling. Yesterday, under the spell of that +somewhat adventurous excursion with Mr. Cuthbert, she had pictured +herself as installed. He had contrived somehow to give her a sense of +intimacy with the people who lived thereabout--his own friends. + +Perhaps it was her husband who was the disillusionizing note as he stood +on the polished floor of the sunflooded drawing-room. Although bare of +furniture, it was eloquent to Honora of a kind of taste not to be +found at Quicksands: it carried her back, by undiscernible channels of +thought, to the impression which, in her childhood, the Hanbury mansion +had always made. Howard, in her present whimsical fancy, even seemed +a little grotesque in such a setting. His inevitable pink shirt and +obviously prosperous clothes made discord there, and she knew in this +moment that he was appraising the house from a commercial standpoint. +His comment confirmed her guess. + +"If I were starting out to blow myself, or you, Honora," he said, poking +with his stick a marmouset of the carved stone mantel, "I'd get a little +more for my money while I was about it." + +Honora did not reply. She looked out of the window instead. + +"See here, old man," said Trixton Brent, "I'm not a real estate dealer +or an architect, but if I were in your place I'd take that carriage and +hustle over to Jerry Shorter's as fast as I could and sign the lease." + +Howard looked at him in some surprise, as one who had learned +that Trixton Brent's opinions were usually worth listening to. +Characteristically, he did not like to display his ignorance. + +"I know what you mean, Brent," he replied, "and there may be something +to the argument. It gives an idea of conservativeness and prosperity." + +"You've made a bull's-eye," said Trixton Brent, succinctly. + +"But--but I'm not ready to begin on this scale," objected Howard. + +"Why," cried Brent, with evident zest--for he was a man who +enjoyed sport in all its forms, even to baiting the husbands of his +friends,--"when I first set eyes on you, old fellow, I thought you knew +a thing or two, and you've made a few turns since that confirmed the +opinion. But I'm beginning to perceive that you have limitations. I +could sit down here now, if there were any place to sit, and calculate +how much living in this house would be worth to me in Wall Street." + +Honora, who had been listening uneasily, knew that a shrewder or more +disturbing argument could not have been used on her husband; and it came +from Trixton Brent--to Howard at least--ex cathedra. She was filled with +a sense of shame, which was due not solely to the fact that she was a +little conscience-stricken because of her innocent complicity, nor that +her husband did not resent an obvious attempt of a high-handed man +to browbeat him; but also to the feeling that the character of the +discussion had in some strange way degraded the house itself. Why was it +that everything she touched seemed to become contaminated? + +"There's no use staying any longer," she said. "Howard doesn't like it." + +"I didn't say so," he interrupted. "There's something about the place +that grows on you. If I felt I could afford it--" + +"At any rate," declared Honora, trying to control her voice, "I've +decided, now I've seen it a second time, that I don't want it. I only +wished him to look at it," she added, scornfully aware that she was +taking up the cudgels in his behalf. But she could not bring herself, +in Brent's presence, to declare that the argument of the rent seemed +decisive. + +Her exasperation was somewhat increased by the expression on Trixton +Brent's face, which plainly declared that he deemed her last remarks to +be the quintessence of tactics; and he obstinately refused, as they went +down the stairs to the street, to regard the matter as closed. + +"I'll take him down town in the Elevated," he said, as he put her into +the carriage. "The first round's a draw." + +She directed the driver to the ferry again, and went back to Quicksands. +Several times during the day she was on the point of telephoning Brent +not to try to persuade Howard to rent the house, and once she even got +so far as to take down the receiver. But when she reflected, it seemed +an impossible thing to do. At four o'clock she herself was called to +the telephone by Mr. Cray, a confidential clerk in Howard's office, who +informed her that her husband had been obliged to leave town suddenly on +business, and would not be home that night. + +"Didn't he say where he was going?" asked Honora. + +"He didn't even tell me, Mrs. Spence," Cray replied, "and Mr. Dallam +doesn't know." + +"Oh, dear," said Honora, "I hope he realizes that people are coming for +dinner to-morrow evening." + +"I'm positive, from what he said, that he'll be back some time +to-morrow," Cray reassured her. + +She refused an invitation to dine out, and retired shortly after her +own dinner with a novel so distracting that she gradually regained an +equable frame of mind. The uneasiness, the vague fear of the future, +wore away, and she slept peacefully. In the morning, however; she found +on her breakfast tray a note from Trixton Brent. + +Her first feeling after reading it was one of relief that he had not +mentioned the house. He had written from a New York club, asking her to +lunch with him at Delmonico's that day and drive home in the motor. No +answer was required: if she did not appear at one o'clock, he would know +she couldn't come. + +Honora took the eleven o'clock train, which gave her an hour after she +arrived in New York to do as she pleased. Her first idea, as she stood +for a moment amidst the clamour of the traffic in front of the ferry +house, was to call on Mrs. Holt at that lady's hotel; and then she +remembered that the Charities Conference began at eleven, and decided +to pay a visit to Madame Dumond, who made a specialty of importing +novelties in dress. Her costume for the prospective excursion in the +automobile had cost Honora some thought that morning. As the day was +cool, she had brought along an ulster that was irreproachable. But how +about the hat and veil? + +Madame Dumond was enchanted. She had them both,--she had landed with +them only last week. She tried them on Honora, and stood back with +her hands clasped in an ecstasy she did not attempt to hide. What +a satisfaction to sell things to Mrs. Spence! Some ladies she could +mention would look like frights in them, but Madame Spence had 'de la +race'. She could wear anything that was chic. The hat and veil, said +Madame, with a simper, were sixty dollars. + +"Sixty dollars!" exclaimed Honora. + +"Ah, madame, what would you?" Novelties were novelties, the United +States Custom authorities robbers. + +Having attended to these important details, Honora drove to the +restaurant in her hansom cab, the blood coursing pleasantly in her +veins. The autumn air sparkled, and New York was showing signs of +animation. She glanced furtively into the little mirror at the side. +Her veil was grey, and with the hat gave her somewhat the air of a +religieuse, an aspect heightened by the perfect oval of her face; and +something akin to a religious thrill ran through her. + +The automobile, with its brass and varnish shining in the sunlight, was +waiting a little way up the street, and the first person Honora met +in the vestibule of Delmonico's was Lula Chandos. She was, as usual, +elaborately dressed, and gave one the impression of being lost, so +anxiously was she scanning the face of every new arrival. + +"Oh, my dear," she cried, staring hard at the hat and the veil, "have +you seen Clara Trowbridge anywhere?" + +A certain pity possessed Honora as she shook her head. + +"She was in town this morning," continued Mrs. Chandos, "and I was sure +she was coming here to lunch. Trixy just drove up a moment ago in his +new car. Did you see it?" + +Honora's pity turned into a definite contempt. + +"I saw an automobile as I came in," she said, but the brevity of her +reply seemed to have no effect upon Mrs. Chandos. + +"There he is now, at the entrance to the cafe," she exclaimed. + +There, indeed, was Trixton Brent, staring at them from the end of the +hall, and making no attempt to approach them. + +"I think I'll go into the dressing-room and leave my coat," said Honora, +outwardly calm but inwardly desperate. Fortunately, Lula made no attempt +to follow her. + +"You're a dream in that veil, my dear," Mrs. Chandos called after her. +"Don't forget that we're all dining with you to-night in Quicksands." + +Once in the dressing-room, Honora felt like locking the doors and +jumping out of the window. She gave her coat to the maid, rearranged her +hair without any apparent reason, and was leisurely putting on her hat +again, and wondering what she would do next, when Mrs. Kame appeared. + +"Trixy asked me to get you," she explained. "Mr. Grainger and I are +going to lunch with you." + +"How nice!" said Honora, with such a distinct emphasis of relief that +Mrs. Kame looked at her queerly. + +"What a fool Trixy was, with all his experience, to get mixed up with +that Chandos woman," that lady remarked as they passed through the +hallway. "She's like molasses--one can never get her off. Lucky thing +he found Cecil and me here. There's your persistent friend, Trixy," +she added, when they were seated. "Really, this is pathetic, when an +invitation to lunch and a drive in your car would have made her so +happy." + +Honora looked around and beheld, indeed, Mrs. Chandos and two other +Quicksands women, Mrs. Randall and Mrs. Barclay, at a table in the +corner of the room. + +"Where's Bessie to-day, Cecil--or do you know?" demanded Mrs. Kame, +after an amused glance at Brent, who had not deigned to answer her. "I +promised to go to Newport with her at the end of the week, but I haven't +been able to find her." + +"Cecil doesn't know," said Trixton Brent. "The police have been looking +for him for a fortnight. Where the deuce have you been, Cecil?" + +"To the Adirondacks," replied Mr Grainger, gravely. + +This explanation, which seemed entirely plausible to Honora, appeared to +afford great amusement to Brent, and even to Mrs. Kame. + +"When did you come to life?" demanded Brent. + +"Yesterday," said Mr. Grainger, quite as solemnly as before. + +Mrs. Kame glanced curiously at Honora, and laughed again. + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Trixy," she said. + +"Why?" he asked innocently. "There's nothing wrong in going to the +Adirondacks--is there, Cecil?" + +"No," said Mr. Grainger, blinking rapidly. + +"The Adirondacks," declared Mrs. Kame, "have now become classic." + +"By the way," observed Mr. Grainger, "I believe Bessie's in town to-day +at a charity pow-wow, reading a paper. I've half a mind to go over and +listen to it. The white dove of peace--and all that kind of thing." + +"You'd go to sleep and spoil it all," said Brent. + +"But you can't, Cecil!" cried Mrs. Kame. "Don't you remember we're going +to Westchester to the Faunces' to spend the night and play bridge? And +we promised to arrive early." + +"That's so, by George," said Mr. Grainger, and he drank the rest of his +whiskey-and-soda. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, if Mrs. Spence is willing," suggested +Brent. "If you start right after lunch, I'll take you out. We'll have +plenty of time," he added to Honora, "to get back to Quicksands for +dinner." + +"Are you sure?" she asked anxiously. "I have people for dinner tonight." + +"Oh, lots of time," declared Mrs. Kame. "Trixy's car is some unheard-of +horse-power. It's only twenty-five miles to the Faunces', and you'll be +back at the ferry by half-past four." + +"Easily," said Trixton Brent. + + + + +CHAPTER X. ON THE ART OF LION TAMING + +After lunch, while Mrs. Kame was telephoning to her maid and Mr. +Grainger to Mrs. Faunce, Honora found herself alone with Trixton Brent +in the automobile at a moment when the Quicksands party were taking a +cab. Mrs. Chandos parsed long enough to wave her hand. + +"Bon voyage!" she cried. "What an ideal party! and the chauffeur doesn't +understand English. If you don't turn up this evening, Honora, I'll +entertain your guests." + +"We must get back," said Honora, involuntarily to Brent. "It would be +too dreadful if we didn't!" + +"Are you afraid I'll run off with you?" he asked. + +"I believe you're perfectly capable of it," she replied. "If I were +wise, I'd take the train." + +"Why don't you?" he demanded. + +She smiled. + +"I don't know. It's because of your deteriorating influence, I suppose. +And yet I trust you, in spite of my instincts and--my eyes. I'm +seriously put out with you." + +"Why?" + +"I'll tell you later, if you're at a loss," she said, as Mrs. Kame and +Mr. Grainger appeared. + +Eight years have elapsed since that day and this writing--an aeon in +this rapidly moving Republic of ours. The roads, although far from +perfect yet, were not then what they have since become. But the weather +was dry and the voyage to Westchester accomplished successfully. It was +half-past three when they drove up the avenue and deposited Mrs. Kame +and Cecil Grainger at the long front of the Faunce house: and Brent, +who had been driving, relinquished the wheel to the chauffeur and joined +Honora in the tonneau. The day was perfect, the woods still heavy with +summer foliage, and the only signs of autumn were the hay mounds and the +yellowing cornstalks stacked amidst the stubble of the fields. + +Brent sat silently watching her, for she had raised her veil in saying +good-by to Mrs. Kame, and--as the chauffeur was proceeding slowly--had +not lowered it. Suddenly she turned and looked him full in the face. + +"What kind of woman do you think I am?" she demanded. + +"That's rather a big order, isn't it?" he said. + +"I'm perfectly serious," continued Honora, slowly. + +"I'd really like to know." + +"Before I begin on the somewhat lengthy list of your qualities," he +replied, smiling, "may I ask why you'd like to know?" + +"Yes," she said quickly. "I'd like to know because I think you've +misjudged me. I was really more angry than you have any idea of at the +manner in which you talked to Howard. And did you seriously suppose that +I was in earnest when we spoke about your assistance in persuading him +to take the house?" + +He laughed. + +"You are either the cleverest woman in the world," he declared, "or else +you oughtn't to be out without a guardian. And no judge in possession of +his five senses would appoint your husband." + +Indignant as she was, she could not resist smiling. There was something +in the way Brent made such remarks that fascinated her. + +"I shouldn't call you precisely eligible, either," she retorted. + +He laughed again. But his eyes made her vaguely uneasy. + +"Are these harsh words the reward for my charity? he asked. + +"I'm by no means sure it's charity," she said. "That's what is troubling +me. And you have no right to say such things about my husband." + +"How was I to know you were sensitive on the subject? he replied. + +"I wonder what it would be like to be so utterly cynical as you," she +said. + +"Do you mean to say you don't want the house?" + +"I don't want it under those conditions," she answered with spirit. "I +didn't expect to be taken literally. And you've always insisted," she +added, "in ascribing to me motives that--that never occurred to me. +You make the mistake of thinking that because you have no ideals, other +people haven't. I hope Howard hasn't said he'd take the house. He's gone +off somewhere, and I haven't been able to see him." + +Trixton Brent looked at her queerly. + +"After that last manoeuvre of yours," he said, "it was all I could do +to prevent him from rushing over to Jerry Shorter's--and signing the +lease." + +She did not reply. + +"What do these sudden, virtuous resolutions mean?" he asked. +"Resignation? Quicksands for life? Abandonment of the whole campaign?" + +"There isn't any I campaign," she said--and her voice caught in +something like a sob. "I'm not that sordid kind of a person. And if I +don't like Quicksands, it's because the whole atmosphere seems to be +charged with--with just such a spirit." + +Her hand was lying on the seat. He covered it with his own so quickly +that she left it there for a moment, as though paralyzed, while she +listened to the first serious words he had ever addressed to her. + +"Honora, I admire you more than any woman I have ever known," he said. + +Her breath came quickly, and she drew her hand away. + +"I suppose I ought to feel complimented," she replied. + +At this crucial instant what had been a gliding flight of the automobile +became, suddenly, a more or less uneven and jerky progress, accompanied +by violent explosions. At the first of these Honora, in alarm, leaped +to her feet. And the machine, after what seemed an heroic attempt to +continue, came to a dead stop. They were on the outskirts of a village; +children coming home from school surrounded them in a ring. Brent jumped +out, the chauffeur opened the hood, and they peered together into what +was, to Honora, an inexplicable tangle of machinery. There followed a +colloquy, in technical French, between the master and the man. + +"What's the matter?" asked Honora, anxiously. + +"Nothing much," said Brent, "spark-plugs. We'll fix it up in a few +minutes." He looked with some annoyance at the gathering crowd. "Stand +back a little, can't you?" he cried, "and give us room." + +After some minutes spent in wiping greasy pieces of steel which the +chauffeur extracted, and subsequent ceaseless grinding on the crank, +the engine started again, not without a series of protesting cracks like +pistol shots. The chauffeur and Brent leaped in, the bystanders parted +with derisive cheers, and away they went through the village, only to +announce by another series of explosions a second disaster at the other +end of the street. A crowd collected there, too. + +"Oh, dear!" said Honora, "don't you think we ought to take the train, +Mr. Brent? If I were to miss a dinner at my own house, it would be too +terrible!" + +"There's nothing to worry about," he assured her. "Nothing broken. It's +only the igniting system that needs adjustment." + +Although this was so much Greek to Honora, she was reassured. Trixton +Brent inspired confidence. There was another argument with the +chauffeur, a little more animated than the first; more greasy plugs +taken out and wiped, and a sharper exchange of compliments with +the crowd; more grinding, until the chauffeur's face was steeped in +perspiration, and more pistol shots. They were off again, but lamely, +spurting a little at times, and again slowing down to the pace of an +ox-cart. Their progress became a series of illustrations of the fable of +the hare and the tortoise. They passed horses, and the horses shied +into the ditch: then the same horses passed them, usually at the periods +chosen by the demon under the hood to fire its pistol shots, and into +the ditch went the horses once more, their owners expressing their +thoughts in language at once vivid and unrestrained. + +It is one of the blessed compensations of life that in times of +prosperity we do not remember our miseries. In these enlightened days, +when everybody owns an automobile and calmly travels from Chicago +to Boston if he chooses, we have forgotten the dark ages when these +machines were possessed by devils: when it took sometimes as much as +three hours to go twenty miles, and often longer than that. How many of +us have had the same experience as Honora! + +She was always going to take the train, and didn't. Whenever her +mind was irrevocably made up, the automobile whirled away on all four +cylinders for a half a mile or so, until they were out of reach of the +railroad. There were trolley cars, to be sure, but those took forever to +get anywhere. Four o'clock struck, five and six, when at last the fiend +who had conspired with fate, having accomplished his evident purpose of +compelling Honora to miss her dinner, finally abandoned them as suddenly +and mysteriously as he had come, and the automobile was a lamb once +more. It was half-past six, and the sun had set, before they saw the +lights twinkling all yellow on the heights of Fort George. At that hour +the last train they could have taken to reach the dinner-party in time +was leaving the New York side of the ferry. + +"What will they think?" cried Honora. "They saw us leave Delmonico's at +two o'clock, and they didn't know we were going to Westchester." + +It needed no very vivid imagination to summon up the probable remarks of +Mrs. Chandos on the affair. It was all very well to say the motor broke +down; but unfortunately Trixton Brent's reputation was not much better +than that of his car. + +Trixton Brent, as might have been expected, was inclined to treat the +matter as a joke. + +"There's nothing very formal about a Quicksands dinner-party," he +said. "We'll have a cosey little dinner in town, and call 'em up on the +telephone." + +She herself was surprised at the spirit of recklessness stealing over +her, for there was, after all, a certain appealing glamour in the +adventure. She was thrilled by the swift, gliding motion of the +automobile, the weird and unfamiliar character of these upper reaches of +a great city in the twilight, where new houses stood alone or in rows +on wide levelled tracts; and old houses, once in the country, were seen +high above the roadway behind crumbling fences, surrounded by gloomy old +trees with rotting branches. She stole a glance at the man close beside +her; a delightful fear of him made her shiver, and she shrank closer +into the corner of the seat. + +"Honora!" + +All at once he had seized her hand again, and held it in spite of her +efforts to release it. + +"Honora," he said, "I love you as I have never loved in my life. As I +never shall love again." + +"Oh--you mustn't say that!" she cried. + +"Why not?" he demanded. "Why not, if I feel it?" + +"Because," faltered Honora, "because I can't listen to you." + +Brent made a motion of disdain with his free hand. + +"I don't pretend that it's right," he said. "I'm not a hypocrite, +anyway, thank God! It's undoubtedly wrong, according to all moral codes. +I've never paid any attention to them. You're married. I'm happy to say +I'm divorced. You've got a husband. I won't be guilty of the bad taste +of discussing him. He's a good fellow enough, but he never thinks about +you from the time the Exchange opens in the morning until he gets home +at night and wants his dinner. You don't love him--it would be a miracle +if a woman with any spirit did. He hasn't any more of an idea of what he +possesses by legal right than the man I discovered driving in a cart +one of the best hunters I ever had in my stables. To say that he doesn't +appreciate you is a ludicrous understatement. Any woman would have done +for him." + +"Please don't!" she implored him. "Please don't!" + +But for the moment she knew that she was powerless, carried along like a +chip on the crest of his passion. + +"I don't pretend to say how it is, or why it is," he went on, paying no +heed to her protests. "I suppose there's one woman for every man in the +world--though I didn't use to think so. I always had another idea of +woman before I met you. I've thought I was in love with 'em, but now I +understand it was only--something else. I say, I don't know what it is +in you that makes me feel differently. I can't analyze it, and I don't +want to. You're not perfect, by a good deal, and God knows I'm not. +You're ambitious, but if you weren't, you'd be humdrum--yet there's +no pitiful artifice in you as in other women that any idiot can see +through. And it would have paralyzed forever any ordinary woman to have +married Howard Spence." + +A new method of wooing, surely, and evidently peculiar to Trixton Brent. +Honora, in the prey of emotions which he had aroused in spite of her, +needless to say did not, at that moment, perceive the humour in it. His +words gave her food for thought for many months afterwards. + +The lion was indeed aroused at last, and whip or goad or wile of no +avail. There came a time when she no longer knew what he was saying: +when speech, though eloquent and forceful, seemed a useless medium. +Her appeals were lost, and she found herself fighting in his arms, when +suddenly they turned into one of the crowded arteries of Harlem. She +made a supreme effort of will, and he released her. + +"Oh!" she cried, trembling. + +But he looked at her, unrepentant, with the light of triumph in his +eyes. + +"I'll never forgive you!" she exclaimed, breathless. + +"I gloried in it," he replied. "I shall remember it as long as I live, +and I'll do it again." + +She did not answer him. She dropped her veil, and for a long space was +silent while they rapidly threaded the traffic, and at length turned +into upper Fifth Avenue, skirting the Park. She did not so much as +glance at him. But he seemed content to watch her veiled profile in the +dusk. + +Her breath, in the first tumult of her thought, came and went deeply. +But gradually as the street lights burned brighter and familiar +sights began to appear, she grew more controlled and became capable +of reflection. She remembered that there was a train for Quicksands at +seven-fifteen, which Howard had taken once or twice. But she felt that +the interval was too short. In that brief period she could not calm +herself sufficiently to face her guests. Indeed, the notion of appearing +alone, or with Brent, at that dinner-party, appalled her. And suddenly +an idea presented itself. + +Brent leaned over, and began to direct the chauffeur to a well-known +hotel. She interrupted him. + +"No," she said, "I'd rather go to the Holland House." + +"Very well," he said amicably, not a little surprised at this +unlooked-for acquiescence, and then told his man to keep straight on +down the Avenue. + +She began mechanically to rearrange her hat and veil; and after that, +sitting upright, to watch the cross streets with feverish anticipation, +her hands in her lap. + +"Honora?" he said. + +She did not answer. + +"Raise the veil, just for a moment, and look at me." + +She shook her head. But for some reason, best known to herself, she +smiled a little. Perhaps it was because her indignation, which would +have frightened many men into repentance, left this one undismayed. At +any rate, he caught the gleam of the smile through the film of her veil, +and laughed. + +"We'll have a little table in the corner of the room," he declared, "and +you shall order the dinner. Here we are," he cried to the chauffeur. +"Pull up to the right." + +They alighted, crossed the sidewalk, the doors were flung open to +receive them, and they entered the hotel. + +Through the entrance to the restaurant Honora caught sight of the red +glow of candles upon the white tables, and heard the hum of voices. In +the hall, people were talking and laughing in groups, and it came as +a distinct surprise to her that their arrival seemed to occasion no +remark. At the moment of getting out of the automobile, her courage had +almost failed her. + +Trixton Brent hailed one of the hotel servants. + +"Show Mrs. Spence to the ladies' parlour," said he. And added to +Honora, "I'll get a table, and have the dinner card brought up in a few +moments." + +Honora stopped the boy at the elevator door. + +"Go to the office," she said, "and find out if Mrs. Joshua Holt is in, +and the number of her room. And take me to the telephone booths. I'll +wait there." + +She asked the telephone operator to call up Mr. Spence's house at +Quicksands--and waited. + +"I'm sorry, madam," he said, after a little while, which seemed +like half an hour to Honora, "but they've had a fire in the Kingston +exchange, and the Quicksands line is out of order." + +Honora's heart sank; but the bell-boy had reappeared. Yes, Mrs. Holt was +in. + +"Take me to her room," she said, and followed him into the elevator. + +In response to his knock the door was opened by Mrs. Holt herself. She +wore a dove-coloured gown, and in her hand was a copy of the report +of the Board of Missions. For a moment she peered at Honora over the +glasses lightly poised on the uncertain rim of her nose. + +"Why--my dear!" she exclaimed, in astonishment. "Honora!" + +"Oh," cried Honora, "I'm so glad you're here. I was so afraid you'd be +out." + +In the embrace that followed both the glasses and the mission report +fell to the floor. Honora picked them up. + +"Sit down, my dear, and tell me how you happen to be here," said Mrs. +Holt. "I suppose Howard is downstairs." + +"No, he isn't," said Honora, rather breathlessly; "that's the reason +I came here. That's one reason, I mean. I was coming to see you this +morning, but I simply didn't have time for a call after I got to town." + +Mrs. Holt settled herself in the middle of the sofa, the only piece +of furniture in the room in harmony with her ample proportions. Her +attitude and posture were both judicial, and justice itself spoke in her +delft-blue eyes. + +"Tell me all about it," she said, thus revealing her suspicions that +there was something to tell. + +"I was just going to," said Honora, hastily, thinking of Trixton Brent +waiting in the ladies' parlour. "I took lunch at Delmomico's with Mr. +Grainger, and Mr. Brent, and Mrs. Kame--" + +"Cecil Grainger?" demanded Mrs. Holt. + +Honora trembled. + +"Yes," she said. + +"I knew his father and mother intimately," said Mrs. Holt, unexpectedly. +"And his wife is a friend of mine. She's one of the most executive women +we have in the 'Working Girls' Association,' and she read a paper today +that was masterful. You know her, of course." + +"No," said Honora, "I haven't met her yet." + +"Then how did you happen to be lunching with her husband? + +"I wasn't lunching with him, Mrs. Holt," said Honora; "Mr. Brent was +giving the lunch." + +"Who's Mr. Brent?" demanded Mrs. Holt. "One of those Quicksands people?" + +"He's not exactly a Quicksands person. I scarcely know how to describe +him. He's very rich, and goes abroad a great deal, and plays polo. +That's the reason he has a little place at Quicksands. He's been awfully +kind both to Howard and me," she added with inspiration. + +"And Mrs. Kame?" said Mrs. Holt. + +"She's a widow, and has a place at Banbury. + +"I never heard of her," said Mrs. Holt, and Honora thanked her stars. + +"And Howard approves of these mixed lunches, my dear? When I was young, +husbands and wives usually went to parties together." + +A panicky thought came to Honora, that Mrs. Holt might suddenly inquire +as to the whereabouts of Mr. Brent's wife. + +"Oh, Howard doesn't mind," she said hastily. "I suppose times have +changed, Mrs. Holt. And after lunch we all went out in Mr. Brent's +automobile to the Faunces' in Westchester--" + +"The Paul Jones Faunces?" Mrs. Holt interrupted. + +"What a nice woman that young Mrs. Faunce is! She was Kitty Esterbrook, +you know. Both of them very old families." + +"It was only," continued Honora, in desperation, "it was only to leave +Mr. Grainger and Mrs. Kame there to spend the night. They all said we +had plenty of time to go and get back to Quicksands by six o'clock. But +coming back the automobile broke down--" + +"Of course," said Mrs. Holt, "it serves any one right for trusting to +them. I think they are an invention of the devil." + +"And we've only just got back to New York this minute." + +"Who?" inquired Mrs. Holt. + +"Mr. Brent and I," said Honora, with downcast eyes. + +"Good gracious!" exclaimed the elder lady. + +"I couldn't think of anything else to do but come straight here to you," +said Honora, gazing at her friend. "And oh, I'm so glad to find you. +There's not another train to Quicksands till after nine." + +"You did quite right, my dear, under the circumstances. I don't say you +haven't been foolish, but it's Howard's fault quite as much as yours. He +has no business to let you do such things." + +"And what makes it worse," said Honora, "is that the wires are down to +Quicksands, and I can't telephone Howard, and we have people to +dinner, and they don't know I went to Westchester, and there's no use +telegraphing: it wouldn't be delivered till midnight or morning." + +"There, there, my dear, don't worry. I know how anxious you feel on your +husband's account--" + +"Oh--Mrs. Holt, I was going to ask you a great, great favour. Wouldn't +you go down to Quicksands with me and spend the night--and pay us a +little visit? You know we would so love to have you!" + +"Of course I'll go down with you, my dear," said Mrs. Holt. "I'm +surprised that you should think for an instant that I wouldn't. It's my +obvious duty. Martha!" she called, "Martha!" + +The door of the bedroom opened, and Mrs. Holt's elderly maid appeared. +The same maid, by the way, who had closed the shutters that memorable +stormy night at Silverdale. She had, it seemed, a trick of appearing at +crises. + +"Martha, telephone to Mrs. Edgerly--you know her number-and say that I +am very sorry, but an unexpected duty calls me out of town to-night, and +ask her to communicate with the Reverend Mr. Field. As for staying with +you, Honora," she continued, "I have to be back at Silverdale to-morrow +night. Perhaps you and Howard will come back with me. My frank opinion +is, that a rest from the gayety of Quicksands will do you good." + +"I will come, with pleasure," said Honora. "But as for Howard--I'm +afraid he's too busy." + +"And how about dinner?" asked Mrs. Holt. + +"I forgot to say," said Honora, "that Mr. Brent's downstairs. He brought +me here, of course. Have you any objection to his dining with us?" + +"No," answered Mrs. Holt, "I think I should like to see him." + +After Mrs. Holt had given instructions to her maid to pack, and Honora +had brushed some of the dust of the roads from her costume, they +descended to the ladies' parlour. At the far end of it a waiter holding +a card was standing respectfully, and Trixton Brent was pacing up and +down between the windows. When he caught sight of them he stopped in his +tracks, and stared, and stood as if rooted to the carpet. Honora came +forward. + +"Oh, Mr. Brent!" she cried, "my old friend, Mrs. Holt, is here, and +she's going to take dinner with us and come down to Quicksands for the +night. May I introduce Mr. Brent." + +"Wasn't it fortunate, Mr. Brent, that Mrs. Spence happened to find me?" +said Mrs. Holt, as she took his hand. "I know it is a relief to you." + +It was not often, indeed, that Trixton Brent was taken off his guard; +but some allowance must be made for him, since he was facing a situation +unparalleled in his previous experience. Virtue had not often been so +triumphant, and never so dramatic as to produce at the critical instant +so emblematic a defender as this matronly lady in dove colour. For +a moment, he stared at her, speechless, and then he gathered himself +together. + +"A relief?" he asked. + +"It would seem so to me," said Mrs. Holt. "Not that I do not think you +are perfectly capable of taking care of her, as an intimate friend of +her husband. I was merely thinking of the proprieties. And as I am a +guest in this hotel, I expect you both to do me the honour to dine with +me before we start for Quicksands." + +After all, Trixton Brent had a sense of humour, although it must not +be expected that he should grasp at once all the elements of a joke on +himself so colossal. + +"I, for one," he said, with a slight bow which gave to his words a touch +somewhat elaborate, "will be delighted." And he shot at Honora a glance +compounded of many feelings, which she returned smilingly. + +"Is that the waiter?" asked Mrs. Holt. + +"That is a waiter," said Trixton Brent, glancing at the motionless +figure. "Shall I call him?" + +"If you please," said Mrs. Holt. "Honora, you must tell me what you +like." + +"Anything, Mrs. Holt," said Honora. + +"If we are to leave a little after nine," said that lady, balancing her +glasses on her nose and glancing at the card, "we have not, I'm afraid, +time for many courses." + +The head waiter greeted them at the door of the dining-room. He, too, +was a man of wisdom and experience. He knew Mrs. Holt, and he knew +Trixton Brent. If gravity had not been a life-long habit with him, one +might have suspected him of a desire to laugh. As it was, he seemed +palpably embarrassed,--for Mr. Brent had evidently been conversing with +him. + +"Two, sir?" he asked. + +"Three," said Mrs. Holt, with dignity. + +The head waiter planted them conspicuously in the centre of the room; +one of the strangest parties, from the point of view of a connoisseur of +New York, that ever sat down together. Mrs. Holt with her curls, and her +glasses laid flat on the bosom of her dove-coloured dress; Honora in a +costume dedicated to the very latest of the sports, and Trixton Brent in +English tweeds. The dining-room was full. But here and there amongst the +diners, Honora observed, were elderly people who smiled discreetly as +they glanced in their direction--friends, perhaps, of Mrs. Holt. And +suddenly, in one corner, she perceived a table of six where the mirth +was less restrained. + +Fortunately for Mr. Brent, he had had a cocktail, or perhaps two, in +Honora's absence. Sufficient time had elapsed since their administration +for their proper soothing and exhilarating effects. At the sound of +the laughter in the corner he turned his head, a signal for renewed +merriment from that quarter. Whereupon he turned back again and faced +his hostess once more with a heroism that compelled Honora's admiration. +As a sportsman, he had no intention of shirking the bitterness of +defeat. + +"Mrs. Grainger and Mrs. Shorter," he remarked, "appear to be enjoying +themselves." + +Honora felt her face grow hot as the merriment at the corner table rose +to a height it had not heretofore attained. And she did not dare to look +again. + +Mrs. Holt was blissfully oblivious to her surroundings. She was, as +usual, extremely composed, and improved the interval, while drinking +her soup, with a more or less undisguised observation of Mr. Brent; +evidently regarding him somewhat in the manner that a suspicious +householder would look upon a strange gentleman whom he accidentally +found in his front hall. Explanations were necessary. That Mr. Brent's +appearance, on the whole, was in his favour did not serve to mitigate +her suspicions. Good-looking men were apt to be unscrupulous. + +"Are you interested in working girls, Mr. Brent?" she inquired +presently. + +Honora, in spite of her discomfort, had an insane desire to giggle. She +did not dare to raise her eyes. + +"I can't say that I've had much experience with them, Mrs. Holt," he +replied, with a gravity little short of sublime. + +"Naturally you wouldn't have had," said Mrs. Holt. "What I meant was, +are you interested in the problems they have to face?" + +"Extremely," said he, so unexpectedly that Honora choked. "I can't say +that I've given as many hours as I should have liked to a study of the +subject, but I don't know of any class that has a harder time. As a +rule, they're underpaid and overworked, and when night comes they are +either tired to death or bored to death, and the good-looking ones are +subject to temptations which some of them find impossible to resist, +in a natural desire for some excitement to vary the routine of their +lives." + +"It seems to me," said Mrs. Holt, "that you are fairly conversant with +the subject. I don't think I ever heard the problem stated so succinctly +and so well. Perhaps," she added, "it might interest you to attend one +of our meetings next month. Indeed, you might be willing to say a few +words." + +"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me, Mrs. Holt. I'm a rather busy +man, and nothing of a public speaker, and it is rarely I get off in the +daytime." + +"How about automobiling?" asked Mrs. Holt, with a smile. + +"Well," said Trixton Brent, laughing in spite of himself, "I like the +working girls, I have to have a little excitement occasionally. And I +find it easier to get off in the summer than in the winter." + +"Men cover a multitude of sins under the plea of business," said Mrs. +Holt, shaking her head. "I can't say I think much of your method of +distraction. Why any one desires to get into an automobile, I don't +see." + +"Have you ever been in one?" he asked. "Mine is here, and I was about to +invite you to go down to the ferry in it. I'll promise to go slow." + +"Well," said Mrs. Holt, "I don't object to going that distance, if you +keep your promise. I'll admit that I've always had a curiosity." + +"And in return," said Brent, gallantly, "allow me to send you a cheque +for your working girls." + +"You're very good," said Mrs. Holt. + +"Oh," he protested, "I'm not in the habit of giving much to charities, +I'm sorry to say. I'd like to know how it feels." + +"Then I hope the sensation will induce you to try it again," said Mrs. +Holt. + +"Nobody, Mrs. Holt," cried Honora, "could be kinder to his friends than +Mr. Brent!" + +"We were speaking of disinterested kindness, my dear," was Mrs. Holt's +reply. + +"You're quite right, Mrs. Holt," said Trixton Brent, beginning, as the +dinner progressed, to take in the lady opposite a delight that surprised +him. "I'm willing to confess that I've led an extremely selfish +existence." + +"The confession isn't necessary," she replied. "It's written all over +you. You're the type of successful man who gets what he wants. I don't +mean to say that you are incapable of kindly instincts." And her eye +twinkled a little. + +"I'm very grateful for that concession, at any rate," he declared. + +"There might be some hope for you if you fell into the hands of a good +woman," said Mrs. Holt. "I take it you are a bachelor. Mark my words, +the longer you remain one, the more steeped in selfishness you are +likely to become in this modern and complex and sense-satisfying life +which so many people lead." + +Honora trembled for what he might say to this, remembering his bitter +references of that afternoon to his own matrimonial experience. Visions +of a scene arose before her in the event that Mrs. Holt should discover +his status. But evidently Trixton Brent had no intention of discussing +his marriage. + +"Judging by some of my married friends and acquaintances," he said, "I +have no desire to try matrimony as a remedy for unselfishness." + +"Then," replied Mrs. Holt, "all I can say is, I should make new friends +amongst another kind of people, if I were you. You are quite right, and +if I were seeking examples of happy marriages, I should not begin my +search among the so-called fashionable set of the present day. They are +so supremely selfish that if the least difference in taste develops, or +if another man or woman chances along whom they momentarily fancy more +than their own husbands or wives, they get a divorce. Their idea of +marriage is not a mutual sacrifice which brings happiness through trials +borne together and through the making of character. No, they have a +notion that man and wife may continue to lead their individual lives. +That isn't marriage. I've lived with Joshua Holt thirty-five years last +April, and I haven't pleased myself in all that time." + +"All men," said Trixton Brent, "are not so fortunate as Mr. Holt." + +Honora began to have the sensations of a witness to a debate between +Mephistopheles and the powers of heaven. Her head swam. But Mrs. Holt, +who had unlooked-for flashes of humour, laughed, and shook her curls at +Brent. + +"I should like to lecture you some time," she said; "I think it would do +you good." + +He shook his head. + +"I'm beyond redemption. Don't you think so, Honora?" he asked, with an +unexpected return of his audacity. + +"I'm afraid I'm not worthy to judge you," she replied, and coloured. + +"Stuff and nonsense," said Mrs. Holt; "women are superior to men, and +it's our duty to keep them in order. And if we're really going to risk +our lives in your automobile, Mr. Brent, you'd better make sure it's +there," she added, glancing at her watch. + +Having dined together in an apparent and inexplicable amity, their exit +was of even more interest to the table in the corner than their entrance +had been. Mrs. Holt's elderly maid was waiting in the hall, Mrs. Holt's +little trunk was strapped on the rear of the car; and the lady herself, +with something of the feelings of a missionary embarking for the wilds +of Africa, was assisted up the little step and through the narrow +entrance of the tonneau by the combined efforts of Honora and Brent. +An expression of resolution, emblematic of a determination to die, if +necessary, in the performance of duty, was on her face as the machinery +started; and her breath was not quite normal when, in an incredibly +brief period, they descended at the ferry. + +The journey to Quicksands was accomplished in a good fellowship which +Honora, an hour before, would not have dreamed of. Even Mrs. Holt was +not wholly proof against the charms of Trixton Brent when he chose to +exert himself; and for some reason he did so choose. As they stood in +the starlight on the platform of the deserted little station while +he went across to Whelen's livery stable to get a carriage, Mrs. Holt +remarked to Honora: + +"Mr. Brent is a fascinating man, my dear." + +"I am so glad that you appreciate him," exclaimed Honora. + +"And a most dangerous one," continued Mrs. Holt. "He has probably, in +his day, disturbed the peace of mind of a great many young women. Not +that I haven't the highest confidence in you, Honora, but honesty forces +me to confess that you are young and pleasure-loving, and a little +heedless. And the atmosphere in which you live is not likely to correct +those tendencies. If you will take my advice, you will not see too much +of Mr. Trixton Brent when your husband is not present." + +Indeed, as to the probable effect of this incident on the relations +between Mr. Brent and herself Honora was wholly in the dark. Although, +from her point of view, what she had done had been amply justified by +the plea of self-defence, it could not be expected that he would accept +it in the same spirit. The apparent pleasure he had taken in the present +situation, once his amazement had been overcome, profoundly puzzled her. + +He returned in a few minutes with the carriage and driver, and they +started off. Brent sat in front, and Honora explained to Mrs. Holt the +appearance of the various places by daylight, and the names of their +owners. The elderly lady looked with considerable interest at the +blazing lights of the Club, with the same sensations she would no doubt +have had if she had been suddenly set down within the Moulin Rouge. +Shortly afterwards they turned in at the gate of "The Brackens." The +light streamed across the porch and driveway, and the sound of music +floated out of the open windows. Within, the figure of Mrs. Barclay +could be seen; she was singing vaudeville songs at the piano. Mrs. +Holt's lips were tightly shut as she descended and made her way up the +steps. + +"I hope you'll come in,", said Honora to Trixton Brent, in a low voice. + +"Come in!" he replied, "I wouldn't miss it for ten thousand dollars." + +Mrs. Holt was the first of the three to appear at the door of the +drawing-room, and Mrs. Barclay caught sight of her, and stopped in the +middle of a bar, with her mouth open. Some of the guests had left. A +table in the corner, where Lula Chandos had insisted on playing bridge, +was covered with scattered cards and some bills, a decanter of whiskey, +two soda bottles, and two glasses. The blue curling smoke from Mrs. +Chandos' cigarette mingled with the haze that hung between the ceiling +and the floor, and that lady was in the act of saying cheerfully to +Howard, who sat opposite,--"Trixy's run off with her." + +Suddenly the chill of silence pervaded the room. Lula Chandos, whose +back was turned to the door, looked from Mrs. Barclay to Howard, who, +with the other men had risen to his feet. + +"What's the matter?" she said in a frightened tone. And, following the +eyes of the others, turned her head slowly towards the doorway. + +Mrs. Holt, who filled it, had been literally incapable of speech. Close +behind her stood Honora and Trixton whose face was inscrutable. + +"Howard," said Honora, summoning all the courage that remained in her, +"here's Mrs. Holt. We dined with her, and she was good enough to come +down for the night. I'm so sorry not to have been here," she added to +her guests, "but we went to Westchester with Mrs. Kame and Mr. Grainger, +and the automobile broke down on the way back." + +Mrs. Holt made no attempt to enter, but stared fixedly at the cigarette +that Mrs. Chandos still held in her trembling fingers. Howard crossed +the room in the midst of an intense silence. + +"Glad to see you, Mrs. Holt," he said. "Er--won't you come in and--and +sit down?" + +"Thank you, Howard" she replied, "I do not wish to interrupt your party. +It is my usual hour for retiring. + +"And I think, my dear," she added, turning to Honora, "that I'll ask you +to excuse me, and show me to my room." + +"Certainly, Mrs. Holt," said Honora, breathlessly. + +"Howard, ring the bell." + +She led the way up the stairs to the guest-chamber with the rose paper +and the little balcony. As she closed the door gusts of laughter reached +them from the floor below, and she could plainly distinguish the voices +of May Barclay and Trixton Brent. + +"I hope you'll be comfortable, Mrs. Holt," she said. "Your maid will be +in the little room across the hall and I believe you like breakfast at +eight." + +"You mustn't let me keep you from your guests, Honora." + +"Oh, Mrs. Holt," she said, on the verge of tears, "I don't want to go to +them. Really, I don't." + +"It must be confessed," said Mrs. Holt, opening her handbag and taking +out the copy of the mission report, which had been carefully folded, +"that they seem to be able to get along very well without you. I +suppose I am too old to understand this modern way of living. How well +I remember one night--it was in 1886--I missed the train to Silverdale, +and my telegram miscarried. Poor Mr. Holt was nearly out of his head." + +She fumbled for her glasses and dropped them. Honora picked them up, +and it was then she perceived that the tears were raining down the good +lady's cheeks. At the same moment they sprang into Honora's eyes, and +blinded her. Mrs. Holt looked at her long and earnestly. + +"Go down, my dear," she said gently, "you must not neglect your friends. +They will wonder where you are. And at what time do you breakfast?" + +"At--at any time you like." + +"I shall be down at eight," said Mrs. Holt, and she kissed her. + +Honora, closing the door, stood motionless in the hall, and presently +the footsteps and the laughter and the sound of carriage wheels on the +gravel died away. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. CONTAINING SOME REVELATIONS + +Honora, as she descended, caught a glimpse of the parlour maid picking +up the scattered cards on the drawing-room floor. There were voices on +the porch, where Howard was saying good-by to Mrs. Chandos and Trixton +Brent. She joined them. + +"Oh, my dear!" cried Mrs. Chandos, interrupting Honora's apologies, "I'm +sure I shan't sleep a wink--she gave me such a fright. You might have +sent Trixy ahead to prepare us. When I first caught sight of her, +I thought it was my own dear mother who had come all the way from +Cleveland, and the cigarette burned my fingers. But I must say I +think it was awfully clever of you to get hold of her and save Trixy's +reputation. Good night, dear." + +And she got into her carriage. + +"Give my love to Mrs. Holt," said Brent, as he took Honora's hand, +"and tell her I feel hurt that she neglected to say good night to me. +I thought I had made an impression. Tell her I'll send her a cheque for +her rescue work. She inspires me with confidence." + +Howard laughed. + +"I'll see you to-morrow, Brent," he called out as they drove away. +Though always assertive, it seemed to Honora that her husband had an +increased air of importance as he turned to her now with his hands in +his pockets. He looked at her for a moment, and laughed again. He, +too, had apparently seen the incident only in a humorous light. "Well, +Honora," he remarked, "you have a sort of a P. T. Barnum way of doing +things once in a while--haven't you? Is the old lady really tucked away +for the night, or is she coming down to read us a sermon? And how the +deuce did you happen to pick her up?" + +She had come downstairs with confession on her lips, and in the +agitation of her mind had scarcely heeded Brent's words or Mrs. +Chandos'. She had come down prepared for any attitude but the one in +which she found him; for anger, reproaches, arraignments. Nay, she +was surprised to find now that she had actually hoped for these. She +deserved to be scolded: it was her right. If he had been all of a man, +he would have called her to account. There must be--there was something +lacking in his character. And it came to her suddenly, with all the +shock of a great contrast, with what different eyes she had looked upon +him five years before at Silverdale. + +He went into the house and started to enter the drawing-room, still in +disorder and reeking with smoke. + +"No, not in there!" she cried sharply. + +He turned to her puzzled. Her breath was coming and going quickly. She +crossed the hall and turned on the light in the little parlour there, +and he followed her. + +"Don't you feel well?" he asked. + +"Howard," she said, "weren't you worried?" + +"Worried? No, why should I have been? Lula Chandos and May Barclay had +seen you in the automobile in town, and I knew you were high and dry +somewhere." + +"High and dry," she repeated. + +"What?" + +"Nothing. They said I had run off with Mr. Brent, didn't they?" + +He laughed. + +"Yes, there was some joking to that effect." + +"You didn't take it seriously?" + +"No--why should I?" + +She was appalled by his lack of knowledge of her. All these years she +had lived with him, and he had not grasped even the elements of +her nature. And this was marriage! Trixton Brent--short as their +acquaintance had been--had some conception of her character and +possibilities her husband none. Where was she to begin? How was she to +tell him the episode in the automobile in order that he might perceive +something of its sinister significance? + +Where was she to go to be saved from herself, if not to him? + +"I might have run away with him, if I had loved him," she said after a +pause. "Would you have cared?" + +"You bet your life," said Howard, and put his arm around her. + +She looked up into his face. So intent had she been on what she +had meant to tell him that she did not until now perceive he was +preoccupied, and only half listening to what she was saying. + +"You bet your life," he said, patting her shoulder. "What would I have +done, all alone, in the new house?" + +"In the new house?" she cried. "Oh, Howard--you haven't taken it!" + +"I haven't signed the lease," he replied importantly, smiling down at +her, and thrusting his hands in his pockets. + +"I don't want it," said Honora; "I don't want it. I told you that I'd +decided I didn't want it when we were there. Oh, Howard, why did you +take it?" + +He whistled. He had the maddening air of one who derives amusement from +the tantrums of a spoiled child. + +"Well," he remarked, "women are too many for me. If there's any way of +pleasing 'em I haven't yet discovered it. The night before last you had +to have the house. Nothing else would do. It was the greatest find +in New York. For the first time in months you get up for breakfast--a +pretty sure sign you hadn't changed your mind. You drag me to see it, +and when you land me there, because I don't lose my head immediately, +you say you don't want it. Of course I didn't take you seriously--I +thought you'd set your heart on it, so I wired an offer to Shorter +to-day, and he accepted it. And when I hand you this pleasant little +surprise, you go right up in the air." + +He had no air of vexation, however, as he delivered this somewhat +reproachful harangue in the picturesque language to which he commonly +resorted. Quite the contrary. He was still smiling, as Santa Claus must +smile when he knows he has another pack up the chimney. + +"Why this sudden change of mind?" he demanded. "It can't be because you +want to spend the winter in Quicksands." + +She was indeed at a loss what to say. She could not bring herself to ask +him whether he had been influenced by Trixton Brent. If he had, she told +herself, she did not wish to know. He was her husband, after all, and it +would be too humiliating. And then he had taken the house. + +"Have you hit on a palace you like better?" he inquired, with a +clumsy attempt at banter. "They tell me the elder Maitlands are going +abroad--perhaps we could get their house on the Park." + +"You said you couldn't afford Mrs. Rindge's house," she answered +uneasily, "and I--I believed you." + +"I couldn't," he said mysteriously, and paused. + +It seemed to her, as she recalled the scene afterwards, that in this +pause he gave the impression of physically swelling. She remembered +staring at him with wide, frightened eyes and parted lips. + +"I couldn't," he repeated, with the same strange emphasis and a palpable +attempt at complacency. "But--er--circumstances have changed since +then." + +"What do you mean, Howard?" she whispered. + +The corners of his mouth twitched in the attempt to repress a smile. + +"I mean," he said, "that the president of a trust company can afford to +live in a better house than the junior partner of Dallam and Spence." + +"The president of a trust company!" Honora scarcely recognized her own +voice--so distant it sounded. The room rocked, and she clutched the arm +of a chair and sat down. He came and stood over her. + +"I thought that would surprise you some," he said, obviously pleased by +these symptoms. "The fact is, I hadn't meant to break it to you until +morning. But I think I'll go in on the seven thirty-five." (He glanced +significantly up at the ceiling, as though Mrs. Holt had something to +do with this decision.) "President of the Orange Trust Company at forty +isn't so bad, eh?" + +"The Orange Trust Company? Did you say the Orange Trust Company?" + +"Yes." He produced a cigarette. "Old James Wing and Brent practically +control it. You see, if I do say it myself, I handled some things pretty +well for Brent this summer, and he's seemed to appreciate it. He and +Wing were buying in traction stocks out West. But you could have knocked +me down with a paper-knife when he came to me--" + +"When did he come to you?" she asked breathlessly. + +"Yesterday. We went down town together, you remember, and he asked me +to step into his office. Well, we talked it over, and I left on the one +o'clock for Newport to see Mr. Wing. Wonderful old man! I sat up with +him till midnight--it wasn't any picnic"... + +More than once during the night Honora awoke with a sense of oppression, +and each time went painfully through the whole episode from the +evening--some weeks past when Trixton Brent had first mentioned the +subject of the trust company, to the occurrence in the automobile and +Howard's triumphant announcement. She had but a vague notion of how that +scene had finished; or of how, limply, she had got to bed. Round and +round the circle she went in each waking period. To have implored him +to relinquish the place had been waste of breath; and then--her reasons? +These were the moments when the current was strongest, when she grew +incandescent with humiliation and pain; when stray phrases in red +letters of Brent's were illuminated. Merit! He had a contempt for her +husband which he had not taken the trouble to hide. But not a business +contempt. "As good as the next man," Brent had said--or words to that +effect. "As good as the next man!" Then she had tacitly agreed to the +bargain, and refused to honour the bill! No, she had not, she had not. +Before God, she was innocent of that! When she reached this point it was +always to James Wing that she clung--the financier, at least, had been +impartial. And it was he who saved her. + +At length she opened her eyes to discover with bewilderment that the +room was flooded with light, and then she sprang out of bed and went +to the open window. To seaward hung an opal mist, struck here and there +with crimson. She listened; some one was whistling an air she had heard +before--Mrs. Barclay had been singing it last night! Wheels crunched +the gravel--Howard was going off. She stood motionless until the horse's +hoofs rang on the highroad, and then hurried into her dressing-gown and +slippers and went downstairs to the telephone and called a number. + +"Is this Mr. Brent's? Will you say to Mr. Brent that Mrs. Spence would +be greatly, obliged if he stopped a moment at her house before going to +town? Thank you." + +She returned to her room and dressed with feverish haste, trying to +gather her wits for an ordeal which she felt it would have killed her to +delay. At ten minutes to eight she emerged again and glanced anxiously +at Mrs. Holt's door; and scarcely had she reached the lower hall before +he drove into the circle. She was struck more forcibly than ever by the +physical freshness of the man, and he bestowed on her, as he took her +hand, the peculiar smile she knew so well, that always seemed to have an +enigma behind it. At sight and touch of him the memory of what she had +prepared to say vanished. + +"Behold me, as ever, your obedient servant," he said, as he followed her +into the screened-off portion of the porch. + +"You must think it strange that I sent for you, I know," she cried, as +she turned to him. "But I couldn't wait. I--I did not know until last +night. Howard only told me then. Oh, you didn't do it for me! Please say +you didn't do it for me!" + +"My dear Honora," replied Trixton Brent, gravely, "we wanted your +husband for his abilities and the valuable services he can render us." + +She stood looking into his eyes, striving to penetrate to the soul +behind, ignorant or heedless that others before her had tried and +failed. He met her gaze unflinchingly, and smiled. + +"I want the truth," she craved. + +"I never lie--to a woman," he said. + +"My life--my future depends upon it," she went on. "I'd rather scrub +floors, I'd rather beg--than to have it so. You must believe me!" + +"I do believe you," he affirmed. And he said it with a gentleness and a +sincerity that startled her. + +"Thank you," she answered simply. And speech became very difficult. +"If--if I haven't been quite fair with you--Mr. Brent, I am sorry. I--I +liked you, and I like you to-day better than ever before. And I can +quite see now how I must have misled you into thinking--queer things +about me. I didn't mean to. I have learned a lesson." + +She took a deep, involuntary breath. The touch of lightness in his reply +served to emphasize the hitherto unsuspected fact that sportsmanship +in Trixton Brent was not merely a code, but assumed something of the +grandeur of a principle. + +"I, too, have learned a lesson," he replied. "I have learned the +difference between nature and art. I am something of a connoisseur in +art. I bow to nature, and pay my bets." + +"Your bets?" she asked, with a look. + +"My renunciations, forfeits, whatever you choose to call them. I have +been fairly and squarely beaten--but by nature, not by art. That is my +consolation." + +Laughter struck into her eyes like a shaft of sunlight into a well; +her emotions were no longer to be distinguished. And in that moment she +wondered what would have happened if she had loved this man, and why she +had not. And when next he spoke, she started. + +"How is my elderly dove-coloured friend this morning?" he asked. "That +dinner with her was one of the great events of my life. I didn't suppose +such people existed any more." + +"Perhaps you'll stay to breakfast with her," suggested Honora, smiling. +"I know she'd like to see you again." + +"No, thanks," he said, taking her hand, "I'm on my way to the train--I'd +quite forgotten it. Au revoir!" He reached the end of the porch, turned, +and called back, "As a 'dea ex machina', she has never been equalled." + +Honora stood for a while looking after him, until she heard a footstep +behind her,--Mrs. Holt's. + +"Who was that, my dear?" she asked, "Howard?" + +"Howard has gone, Mrs. Holt," Honora replied, rousing herself. "I must +make his apologies. It was Mr. Brent." + +"Mr. Brent!" the good lady repeated, with a slight upward lift of the +faint eyebrows. "Does he often call this early?" + +Honora coloured a little, and laughed. + +"I asked him to breakfast with you, but he had to catch a train. +He--wished to be remembered. He took such a fancy to you." + +"I am afraid," said Mrs. Holt, "that his fancy is a thing to be avoided. +Are you coming to Silverdale with me, Honora?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Holt," she replied, slipping her arm through that of her +friend, "for as long as you will let me stay." + +And she left a note for Howard to that effect. + + + + +BOOK III. + + +Volume 5. + + + +CHAPTER I. ASCENDI. + +Honora did not go back to Quicksands. Neither, in this modern chronicle, +shall we. + +The sphere we have left, which we know is sordid, sometimes shines +in the retrospect. And there came a time, after the excitement of +furnishing the new house was over, when our heroine, as it were, swung +for a time in space: not for a very long time; that month, perhaps, +between autumn and winter. + +We need not be worried about her, though we may pause for a moment or +two to sympathize with her in her loneliness--or rather in the moods it +produced. She even felt, in those days, slightly akin to the Lady of +the Victoria (perfectly respectable), whom all of us fortunate enough +occasionally to go to New York have seen driving on Fifth Avenue with +an expression of wistful haughtiness, and who changes her costumes four +times a day. + +Sympathy! We have seen Honora surrounded by friends--what has become of +them? Her husband is president of a trust company, and she has one of +the most desirable houses in New York. What more could be wished for? To +jump at conclusions in this way is by no means to understand a +heroine with an Ideal. She had these things, and--strange as it may +seem--suffered. + +Her sunny drawing-room, with its gathered silk curtains, was especially +beautiful; whatever the Leffingwells or Allisons may have lacked, it was +not taste. Honora sat in it and wondered: wondered, as she looked back +over the road she had threaded somewhat blindly towards the Ideal, +whether she might not somewhere have taken the wrong turn. The +farther she travelled, the more she seemed to penetrate into a land +of unrealities. The exquisite objects by which she was surrounded, and +which she had collected with such care, had no substance: she would not +have been greatly surprised, at any moment, to see them vanish like a +scene in a theatre, leaning an empty, windy stage behind them. They did +not belong to her, nor she to them. + +Past generations of another blood, no doubt, had been justified in +looking upon the hazy landscapes in the great tapestries as their own: +and children's children had knelt, in times gone by, beside the carved +stone mantel. The big, gilded chairs with the silken seats might +appropriately have graced the table of the Hotel de Rambouillet. Would +not the warriors and the wits, the patient ladies of high degree and of +many children, and even the 'precieuses ridicules' themselves, turn over +in their graves if they could so much as imagine the contents of the +single street in modern New York where Honora lived? + +One morning, as she sat in that room, possessed by these whimsical +though painful fancies, she picked up a newspaper and glanced through +it, absently, until her eye fell by chance upon a name on the editorial +page. Something like an electric shock ran through her, and the letters +of the name seemed to quiver and become red. Slowly they spelled--Peter +Erwin. + +"The argument of Mr. Peter Erwin, of St. Louis, before the Supreme Court +of the United States in the now celebrated Snowden case is universally +acknowledged by lawyers to have been masterly, and reminiscent of the +great names of the profession in the past. Mr. Erwin is not dramatic. He +appears to carry all before him by the sheer force of intellect, and by +a kind of Lincolnian ability to expose a fallacy: He is still a young +man, self-made, and studied law under Judge Brice of St. Louis, once +President of the National Bar Association, whose partner he is".... + +Honora cut out the editorial and thrust it in her gown, and threw +the newspaper is the fire. She stood for a time after it had burned, +watching the twisted remnants fade from flame colour to rose, and +finally blacken. Then she went slowly up the stairs and put on her hat +and coat and veil. Although a cloudless day, it was windy in the park, +and cold, the ruffled waters an intense blue. She walked fast. + +She lunched with Mrs. Holt, who had but just come to town; and the +light, like a speeding guest, was departing from the city when she +reached her own door. + +"There is a gentleman in the drawing-room, madam," said the butler. "He +said he was an old friend, and a stranger in New York, and asked if he +might wait." + +She stood still with presentiment. + +"What is his name?" she asked. + +"Mr. Erwin," said the man. + +Still she hesitated. In the strange state in which she found herself +that day, the supernatural itself had seemed credible. And yet--she was +not prepared. + +"I beg pardon, madam," the butler was saying, "perhaps I shouldn't--?" + +"Yes, yes, you should," she interrupted him, and pushed past him up +the stairs. At the drawing-room door she paused--he was unaware of her +presence. And he had not changed! She wondered why she had expected him +to change. Even the glow of his newly acquired fame was not discernible +behind his well-remembered head. He seemed no older--and no younger. And +he was standing with his hands behind his back gazing in simple, silent +appreciation at the big tapestry nearest the windows. + +"Peter," she said, in a low voice. + +He turned quickly, and then she saw the glow. But it was the old glow, +not the new--the light in which her early years had been spent. + +"What a coincidence!" she exclaimed, as he took her hand. + +"Coincidence?" + +"It was only this morning that I was reading in the newspaper all sorts +of nice things about you. It made me feel like going out and telling +everybody you were an old friend of mine." Still holding his fingers, +she pushed him away from her at arm's length, and looked at him. "What +does it feel like to be famous, and have editorials about one's self in +the New York newspapers?" + +He laughed, and released his hands somewhat abruptly. + +"It seems as strange to me, Honora, as it does to you." + +"How unkind of you, Peter!" she exclaimed. + +She felt his eyes upon her, and their searching, yet kindly and humorous +rays seemed to illuminate chambers within her which she would have kept +in darkness: which she herself did not wish to examine. + +"I'm so glad to see you," she said a little breathlessly, flinging her +muff and boa on a chair. "Sit there, where I can look at you, and tell +me why you didn't let me know you were coming to New York." + +He glanced a little comically at the gilt and silk arm-chair which she +designated, and then at her; and she smiled and coloured, divining the +humour in his unspoken phrase. + +"For a great man," she declared, "you are absurd." + +He sat down. In spite of his black clothes and the lounging attitude +he habitually assumed, with his knees crossed--he did not appear +incongruous in a seat that would have harmonized with the flowing +robes of the renowned French Cardinal himself. Honora wondered why. He +impressed her to-day as force--tremendous force in repose, and yet he +was the same Peter. Why was it? Had the clipping that even then lay in +her bosom effected this magic change? He had intimated as much, but she +denied it fiercely. + +She rang for tea. + +"You haven't told me why you came to New York," she said. + +"I was telegraphed for, from Washington, by a Mr. Wing," he explained. + +"A Mr. Wing," she repeated. "You don't mean by any chance James Wing?" + +"The Mr. Wing," said Peter. + +"The reason I asked," explained Honora, flushing, "was because Howard +is--associated with him. Mr. Wing is largely interested in the Orange +Trust Company." + +"Yes, I know," said Peter. His elbows were resting on the arms of his +chair, and he looked at the tips of his fingers, which met. Honora +thought it strange that he did not congratulate her, but he appeared to +be reflecting. + +"What did Mr. Wing want?" she inquired in her momentary confusion, and +added hastily, "I beg your pardon, Peter. I suppose I ought not to ask +that." + +"He was kind enough to wish me to live in New York he answered, still +staring at the tips of his fingers. + +"Oh, how nice!" she cried--and wondered at the same time whether, on +second thoughts, she would think it so. "I suppose he wants you to be +the counsel for one of his trusts. When--when do you come?" + +"I'm not coming." + +"Not coming! Why? Isn't it a great compliment?" + +He ignored the latter part of her remark; and it seemed to her, when she +recalled the conversation afterwards, that she had heard a certain note +of sadness under the lightness of his reply. + +"To attempt to explain to a New Yorker why any one might prefer to live +in any other place would be a difficult task." + +"You are incomprehensible, Peter," she declared. And yet she felt a +relief that surprised her, and a desire to get away from the subject. +"Dear old St. Louis! Somehow, in spite of your greatness, it seems to +fit you." + +"It's growing," said Peter--and they laughed together. + +"Why didn't you come to lunch?" she said. + +"Lunch! I didn't know that any one ever went to lunch in New York--in +this part of it, at least--with less than three weeks' notice. And by +the way, if I am interfering with any engagement--" + +"My book is not so full as all that. Of course you'll come and stay with +us, Peter." + +He shook his head regretfully. + +"My train leaves at six, from Forty-Second Street," he replied. + +"Oh, you are niggardly," she cried. "To think how little I see of you, +Peter. And sometimes I long for you. It's strange, but I still miss you +terribly--after five years. It seems longer than that," she added, as +she poured the boiling water into the tea-pot. But she did not look at +him. + +He got up and walked as far as a water-colour on the wall. + +"You have some beautiful things here, Honora," he said. "I am glad I +have had a glimpse of you surrounded by them to carry back to your aunt +and uncle." + +She glanced about the room as he spoke, and then at him. He seemed the +only reality in it, but she did not say so. + +"You'll see them soon," was what she said. And considered the miracle +of him staying there where Providence had placed him, and bringing the +world to him. Whereas she, who had gone forth to seek it--"The day after +to-morrow will be Sunday," he reminded her. + +Nothing had changed there. She closed her eyes and saw the little dining +room in all the dignity of Sunday dinner, the big silver soup tureen +catching the sun, the flowered china with the gilt edges, and even a +glimpse of lace paper when the closet door opened; Aunt Mary and Uncle +Tom, with Peter between them. And these, strangely, were the only +tangible things and immutable. + +"You'll give them--a good account of me?" she said. "I know that you do +not care for New York," she added with a smile. "But it is possible to +be happy here." + +"I am glad you are happy, Honora, and that you have got what you +wanted in life. Although I may be unreasonable and provincial and--and +Western," he confessed with a twinkle--for he had the characteristic +national trait of shading off his most serious remarks--"I have never +gone so far as to declare that happiness was a question of locality." + +She laughed. + +"Nor fame." Her mind returned to the loadstar. + +"Oh, fame!" he exclaimed, with a touch of impatience, and he used the +word that had possessed her all day. "There is no reality in that. Men +are not loved for it." + +She set down her cup quickly. He was looking at the water-colour. + +"Have you been to the Metropolitan Museum lately?" he asked. + +"The Metropolitan Museum?" she repeated in bewilderment. + +"That would be one of the temptations of New York for me," he said. "I +was there for half an hour this afternoon before I presented myself +at your door as a suspicious character. There is a picture there, by +Coffin, called 'The Rain,' I believe. I am very fond of it. And looking +at it on such a winter's day as this brings back the summer. The squall +coming, and the sound of it in the trees, and the very smell of the wet +meadow-grass in the wind. Do you know it?" + +"No," replied Honora, and she was suddenly filled with shame at the +thought that she had never been in the Museum. "I didn't know you were +so fond of pictures." + +"I am beginning to be a rival of Mr. Dwyer," he declared. "I've bought +four--although I haven't built my gallery. When you come to St. Louis +I'll show them to you--and let us hope it will be soon." + +For some time after she had heard the street door close behind him +Honora remained where she was, staring into the fire, and then she +crossed the room to a reading lamp, and turned it up. + +Some one spoke in the doorway. + +"Mr. Grainger, madam." + +Before she could rouse herself and recover from her astonishment, the +gentleman himself appeared, blinking as though the vision of her were +too bright to be steadily gazed at. If the city had been searched, it is +doubtful whether a more striking contrast to the man who had just left +could have been found than Cecil Grainger in the braided, grey cutaway +that clung to the semblance of a waist he still possessed. In him Hyde +Park and Fifth Avenue, so to speak, shook hands across the sea: put him +in either, and he would have appeared indigenous. + +"Hope you'll forgive my comin' 'round on such slight acquaintance, Mrs. +Spence," said he. "Couldn't resist the opportunity to pay my respects. +Shorter told me where you were." + +"That was very good of Mr. Shorter," said Honora, whose surprise had +given place to a very natural resentment, since she had not the honour +of knowing Mrs. Grainger. + +"Oh," said Mr. Grainger, "Shorter's a good sort. Said he'd been here +himself to see how you were fixed, and hadn't found you in. Uncommonly +well fixed, I should say," he added, glancing around the room with +undisguised approval. "Why the deuce did she furnish it, since she's +gone to Paris to live with Rindge?" + +"I suppose you mean Mrs. Rindge," said Honora. "She didn't furnish it." + +Mr. Grainger winked at her rapidly, like a man suddenly brought face to +face with a mystery. + +"Oh!" he replied, as though he had solved it. The solution came a few +moments later. "It's ripping!" he said. "Farwell couldn't have done it +any better." + +Honora laughed, and momentarily forgot her resentment. + +"Will you have tea?" she asked. "Oh, don't sit down there!" + +"Why not?" he asked, jumping. It was the chair that had held Peter, and +Mr. Grainger examined the seat as though he suspected a bent pin. + +"Because," said Honora, "because it isn't comfortable. Pull up that +other one." + +Again mystified, he did as he was told. She remembered his reputation +for going to sleep, and wondered whether she had been wise in her second +choice. But it soon became apparent that Mr. Grainger, as he gazed at +her from among the cushions, had no intention of dozing, His eyelids +reminded her of the shutters of a camera, and she had the feeling of +sitting for thousands of instantaneous photographs for his benefit. She +was by turns annoyed, amused, and distrait: Peter was leaving his hotel; +now he was taking the train. Was he thinking of her? He had said he +was glad she was happy! She caught herself up with a start after one +of these silences to realize that Mr. Grainger was making unwonted and +indeed pathetic exertions to entertain her, and it needed no feminine +eye to perceive that he was thoroughly uncomfortable. She had, +unconsciously and in thinking of Peter, rather overdone the note of +rebuke of his visit. And Honora was, above all else, an artist. His air +was distinctly apologetic as he rose, perhaps a little mortified, like +that of a man who has got into the wrong house. + +"I very much fear I've intruded, Mrs. Spence," he stammered, and he was +winking now with bewildering rapidity. "We--we had such a pleasant drive +together that day to Westchester--I was tempted--" + +"We did have a good time," she agreed. "And it has been a pleasure to +see you again." + +Thus, in the kindness of her heart, she assisted him to cover his +retreat, for it was a strange and somewhat awful experience to see Mr. +Cecil Grainger discountenanced. He glanced again, as he went out, at the +chair in which he had been forbidden to sit. + +She went to the piano, played over a few bars of Thais, and dropped her +hands listlessly. Cross currents of the strange events of the day +flowed through her mind: Peter's arrival and its odd heralding, and the +discomfort of Mr. Grainger. + +Howard came in. He did not see her under the shaded lamp, and she sat +watching him with a curious feeling of detachment as he unfolded his +newspaper and sank, with a sigh of content, into the cushioned chair +which Mr. Grainger had vacated. Was it fancy that her husband's physical +attributes had changed since he had attained his new position of +dignity? She could have sworn that he had visibly swollen on the evening +when he had announced to her his promotion, and he seemed to have +remained swollen. Not bloated, of course: he was fatter, and--if +possible pinker. But there was a growing suggestion in him of +humming-and-hawing greatness. If there--were leisure in this +too-leisurely chronicle for what might be called aftermath, the dinner +that Honora had given to some of her Quicksands friends might be +described. Suffice it to recall, with Honora, that Lily Dallam, with a +sure instinct, had put the finger of her wit on this new attribute of +Howard's. + +"You'll kill me, Howard!" she had cried. "He even looks at the soup as +though he were examining a security!" + +Needless to say, it did not cure him, although it sealed Lily Dallam's +fate--and incidentally that of Quicksands. Honora's thoughts as she sat +now at the piano watching him, flew back unexpectedly to the summer at +Silverdale when she had met him, and she tried to imagine, the genial +and boyish representative of finance that he was then. In the midst of +this effort he looked up and discovered her. + +"What are you doing over there, Honora?" he asked. + +"Thinking," she answered. + +"That's a great way to treat a man when he comes home after a day's +work." + +"I beg your pardon, Howard," she said with unusual meekness. "Who do you +think was here this afternoon?" + +"Erwin? I've just come from Mr. Wing's house--he has gout to-day and +didn't go down town. He offered Erwin a hundred thousand a year to come +to New York as corporation counsel. And if you'll believe me--he refused +it." + +"I'll believe you," she said. + +"Did he say anything about it to you?" + +"He simply mentioned that Mr. Wing asked him to come to New York. He +didn't say why." + +"Well," Howard remarked, "he's one too many for me. He can't be making +over thirty thousand where he is." + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE PATH OF PHILANTHROPY + +Mrs. Cecil Grainger may safely have been called a Personality, and one +of the proofs of this was that she haunted people who had never seen +her. Honora might have looked at her, it is true, on the memorable night +of the dinner with Mrs. Holt and Trixton Brent; but--for sufficiently +obvious reasons--refrained. It would be an exaggeration to say that Mrs. +Grainger became an obsession with our heroine; yet it cannot be denied +that, since Honora's arrival at Quicksands, this lady had, in increasing +degrees, been the subject of her speculations. The threads of Mrs. +Grainger's influence were so ramified, indeed, as to be found in Mrs. +Dallam, who declared she was the rudest woman in New York and yet had +copied her brougham; in Mr. Cuthbert and Trixton Brent; in Mrs. Kame; +in Mrs. Holt, who proclaimed her a tower of strength in charities; and +lastly in Mr. Grainger himself, who, although he did not spend much time +in his wife's company, had for her an admiration that amounted to awe. + +Elizabeth Grainger, who was at once modern and tenaciously conservative, +might have been likened to some of the Roman matrons of the aristocracy +in the last years of the Republic. Her family, the Pendletons, had +traditions: so, for that matter, had the Graingers. But Senator +Pendleton, antique homo virtute et fide, had been a Roman of the old +school who would have preferred exile after the battle of Philippi; and +who, could he have foreseen modern New York and modern finance, would +have been more content to die when he did. He had lived in Washington +Square. His daughter inherited his executive ability, many of his +prejudices (as they would now be called), and his habit of regarding +favourable impressions with profound suspicion. She had never known the +necessity of making friends: hers she had inherited, and for some reason +specially decreed, they were better than those of less fortunate people. + +Mrs. Grainger was very tall. And Sargent, in his portrait of her, had +caught with admirable art the indefinable, yet partly supercilious and +scornful smile with which she looked down upon the world about her. +She possessed the rare gift of combining conventionality with personal +distinction in her dress. Her hair was almost Titian red in colour, and +her face (on the authority of Mr. Reginald Farwell) was at once modern +and Italian Renaissance. Not the languid, amorous Renaissance, but the +lady of decision who chose, and did not wait to be chosen. Her eyes +had all the colours of the tapaz, and her regard was so baffling as to +arouse intense antagonism in those who were not her friends. + +To Honora, groping about for a better and a higher life, the path of +philanthropy had more than once suggested itself. And on the day of +Peter's visit to New York, when she had lunched with Mrs. Holt, she had +signified her willingness (now that she had come to live in town) to +join the Working Girls' Relief Society. Mrs. Holt, needless to say, was +overjoyed: they were to have a meeting at her house in the near future +which Honora must not fail to attend. It was not, however, without a +feeling of trepidation natural to a stranger that she made her way to +that meeting when the afternoon arrived. + +No sooner was she seated in Mrs. Holt's drawing-room--filled with +camp-chairs for the occasion--than she found herself listening +breathlessly to a recital of personal experiences by a young woman +who worked in a bindery on the East side. Honora's heart was soft: her +sympathies, as we know, easily aroused. And after the young woman had +told with great simplicity and earnestness of the struggle to support +herself and lead an honest and self-respecting existence, it seemed to +Honora that at last she had opened the book of life at the proper page. + +Afterwards there were questions, and a report by Miss Harber, a +middle-aged lady with glasses who was the secretary. Honora looked +around her. The membership of the Society, judging by those present, +was surely of a sufficiently heterogeneous character to satisfy even +the catholic tastes of her hostess. There were elderly ladies, some +benevolent and some formidable, some bedecked and others unadorned; +there were earnest-looking younger women, to whom dress was evidently a +secondary consideration; and there was a sprinkling of others, perfectly +gowned, several of whom were gathered in an opposite corner. Honora's +eyes, as the reading of the report progressed, were drawn by a continual +and resistless attraction to this group; or rather to the face of one +of the women in it, which seemed to stare out at her like the eat in +the tree of an old-fashioned picture puzzle, or the lineaments of George +Washington among a mass of boulders on a cliff. Once one has discovered +it, one can see nothing else. In vain Honora dropped her eyes; some +strange fascination compelled her to raise them again until they met +those of the other woman: Did their glances meet? She could never +quite be sure, so disconcerting were the lights in that regard--lights, +seemingly, of laughter and mockery. + +Some instinct informed Honora that the woman was Mrs. Grainger, and +immediately the scene in the Holland House dining-room came back to her. +Never until now had she felt the full horror of its comedy. And then, +as though to fill the cup of humiliation, came the thought of Cecil +Grainger's call. She longed, in an agony with which sensitive natures +will sympathize, for the reading to be over. + +The last paragraph of the report contained tributes to Mrs. Joshua Holt +and Mrs. Cecil Grainger for the work each had done during the year, and +amidst enthusiastic hand-clapping the formal part of the meeting came +to an end. The servants were entering with tea as Honora made her way +towards the door, where she was stopped by Susan Holt. + +"My dear Honora," cried Mrs. Holt, who had hurried after her daughter, +"you're not going?" + +Honora suddenly found herself without an excuse. + +"I really ought to, Mrs. Holt. I've had such a good time-and I've been +so interested. I never realized that such things occurred. And I've got +one of the reports, which I intend to read over again." + +"But my dear," protested Mrs. Holt, "you must meet some of the members +of the Society. Bessie!" + +Mrs. Grainger, indeed--for Honora had been right in her surmise--was +standing within ear-shot of this conversation. And Honora, who knew she +was there, could not help feeling that she took a rather redoubtable +interest in it. At Mrs. Holt's words she turned. + +"Bessie, I've found a new recruit--one that I can answer for, Mrs. +Spence, whom I spoke to you about." + +Mrs. Grainger bestowed upon Honora her enigmatic smile. + +"Oh," she declared, "I've heard of Mrs. Spence from other sources, and +I've seen her, too." + +Honora grew a fiery red. There was obviously no answer to such a remark, +which seemed the quintessence of rudeness. But Mrs. Grainger continued +to smile, and to stare at her with the air of trying to solve a riddle. + +"I'm coming to see you, if I may," she said. "I've been intending to +since I've been in town, but I'm always so busy that I don't get time to +do the things I want to do." + +An announcement that fairly took away Honora's breath. She managed to +express her appreciation of Mrs. Grainger's intention, and presently +found herself walking rapidly up-town through swirling snow, somewhat +dazed by the events of the afternoon. And these, by the way, were not +yet finished. As she reached her own door, a voice vaguely familiar +called her name. + +"Honora!" + +She turned. The slim, tall figure of a young woman descended from +a carriage and crossed the pavement, and in the soft light of the +vestibule she recognized Ethel Wing. + +"I'm so glad I caught you," said that young lady when they entered the +drawing-room. And she gazed at her school friend. The colour glowed in +Honora's cheeks, but health alone could not account for the sparkle in +her eyes. "Why, you look radiant. You are more beautiful than you were +at Sutcliffe. Is it marriage?" + +Honora laughed happily, and they sat down side by side on the lounge +behind the tea table. + +"I heard you'd married," said Ethel, "but I didn't know what had become +of you until the other day. Jim never tells me anything. It appears that +he's seen something of you. But it wasn't from Jim that I heard about +you first. You'd never guess who told me you were here." + +"Who?" asked Honora, curiously. + +"Mr. Erwin." + +"Peter Erwin!" + +"I'm perfectly shameless," proclaimed Ethel Wing. "I've lost my heart +to him, and I don't care who knows it. Why in the world didn't you marry +him?" + +"But--where did you see him?" Honora demanded as soon as she could +command herself sufficiently to speak. Her voice must have sounded odd. +Ethel did not appear to notice that. + +"He lunched with us one day when father had gout. Didn't he tell you +about it? He said he was coming to see you that afternoon." + +"Yes--he came. But he didn't mention being at lunch at your house." + +"I'm sure that was like him," declared her friend. And for the +first time in her life Honora experienced a twinge of that world-old +ailment--jealousy. How did Ethel know what was like him? "I made father +give him up for a little while after lunch, and he talked about you the +whole time. But he was most interesting at the table," continued Ethel, +sublimely unconscious of the lack of compliment in the comparison; "as +Jim would say, he fairly wiped up the ground with father, and it isn't +an easy thing to do." + +"Wiped up the ground with Mr. Wing!" Honora repeated. + +"Oh, in a delightfully quiet, humorous way. That's what made it so +effective. I couldn't understand all of it; but I grasped enough to +enjoy it hugely. Father's so used to bullying people that it's become +second nature with him. I've seen him lay down the law to some of the +biggest lawyers in New York, and they took it like little lambs. He +caught a Tartar in Mr. Erwin. I didn't dare to laugh, but I wanted to." + +"What was the discussion about?" asked Honora. + +"I'm not sure that I can give you a very clear idea of it," said Ethel. +"Generally speaking, it was about modern trust methods, and what a +self-respecting lawyer would do and what he wouldn't. Father took the +ground that the laws weren't logical, and that they were different +and conflicting, anyway, in different States. He said they impeded the +natural development of business, and that it was justifiable for the +great legal brains of the country to devise means by which these laws +could be eluded. He didn't quite say that, but he meant it, and he +honestly believes it. The manner in which Mr. Erwin refuted it was a +revelation to me. I've been thinking about it since. You see, I'd never +heard that side of the argument. Mr. Erwin said, in the nicest way +possible, but very firmly, that a lawyer who hired himself out to enable +one man to take advantage of another prostituted his talents: that the +brains of the legal profession were out of politics in these days, and +that it was almost impossible for the men in the legislatures to frame +laws that couldn't be evaded by clever and unscrupulous devices. He +cited ever so many cases...." + +Ethel's voice became indistinct, as though some one had shut a door in +front of it. Honora was trembling on the brink of a discovery: holding +herself back from it, as one who has climbed a fair mountain recoils +from the lip of an unsuspected crater at sight of the lazy, sulphurous +fumes. All the years of her marriage, ever since she had first heard +his name, the stature of James Wing had been insensibly growing, and +the vastness of his empire gradually disclosed. She had lived in that +empire: in it his word had stood for authority, his genius had been +worshipped, his decrees had been absolute. + +She had met him once, in Howard's office, when he had greeted her +gruffly, and the memory of his rugged features and small red eyes, like +live coals, had remained. And she saw now the drama that had taken place +before Ethel's eyes. The capitalist, overbearing, tyrannical, hearing +a few, simple truths in his own house from Peter--her Peter. And she +recalled her husband's account of his talk with James Wing. Peter had +refused to sell himself. Had Howard? Many times during the days that +followed she summoned her courage to ask her husband that question, and +kept silence. She did not wish to know. + +"I don't want to seem disloyal to papa," Ethel was saying. "He is under +great responsibilities to other people, to stockholders; and he must get +things done. But oh, Honora, I'm so tired of money, money, money and its +standards, and the things people are willing to do for it. I've seen too +much." + +Honora looked at her friend, and believed her. One glance at the girl's +tired eyes--a weariness somehow enhanced--in effect by the gold sheen of +her hair--confirmed the truth of her words. + +"You've changed, Ethel, since Sutcliffe," she said. + +"Yes, I've changed," said Ethel Wing, and the weariness was in her +voice, too. "I've had too much, Honora. Life was all glitter, like a +Christmas tree, when I left Sutcliffe. I had no heart. I'm not at all +sure that I have one now. I've known all kinds of people--except the +right kind. And if I were to tell you some of the things that have +happened to me in five years you wouldn't believe them. Money has been +at the bottom of it all,--it ruined my brother, and it has ruined me. +And then, the other day, I beheld a man whose standards simply take no +account of money, a man who holds something else higher. I--I had been +groping lately, and then I seemed to see clear for the first time in my +life. But I'm afraid it comes too late." + +Honora took her friend's hand in her own and pressed it. + +"I don't know why I'm telling you all this," said Ethel: "It seems +to-day as though I had always known you, and yet we weren't particularly +intimate at school. I suppose I'm inclined to be oversuspicious. Heaven +knows I've had enough to make me so. But I always thought that you were +a little--ambitious. You'll forgive my frankness, Honora. I don't think +you're at all so, now." She glanced at Honora suddenly. "Perhaps you've +changed, too," she said. + +Honora nodded. + +"I think I'm changing all the time," she replied. + +After a moment's silence, Ethel Wing pursued her own train of thought. + +"Curiously enough when he--when Mr. Erwin spoke of you I seemed to get +a very different idea of you than the one I had always had. I had to go +out of town, but I made up my mind I'd come to see you as soon as I got +back, and ask you to tell me something about him." + +"What shall I tell you?" asked Honora. "He is what you think he is, and +more." + +"Tell me something of his early life," said Ethel Wing. + + ..................... + +There is a famous river in the western part of our country that +disappears into a canon, the walls of which are some thousands of feet +high, and the bottom so narrow that the confined waters roar through it +at breakneck speed. Sometimes they disappear entirely under the rock, to +emerge again below more furiously than ever. From the river-bed can be +seen, far, far above, a blue ribbon of sky. Once upon a time, not long +ago, two heroes in the service of the government of the United States, +whose names should be graven in the immortal rock and whose story read +wherever the language is spoken, made the journey through this canon +and came out alive. That journey once started, there could be no turning +back. Down and down they were buffeted by the rushing waters, over the +falls and through the tunnels, with time to think only of that which +would save them from immediate death, until they emerged into the +sunlight of the plain below. + +All of which by way of parallel. For our own chronicle, hitherto +leisurely enough, is coming to its canon--perhaps even now begins to +feel the pressure of the shelving sides. And if our heroine be somewhat +rudely tossed from one boulder to another, if we fail wholly to +understand her emotions and her acts, we must blame the canon. She had, +indeed, little time to think. + +One evening, three weeks or so after the conversation with Ethel Wing +just related, Honora's husband entered her room as her maid was giving +the finishing touches to her toilet. + +"You're not going to wear that dress!" he exclaimed. + +"Why not?" she asked, without turning from the mirror. + +He lighted a cigarette. + +"I thought you'd put on something handsome--to go to the Graingers'. And +where are your jewels? You'll find the women there loaded with 'em." + +"One string of pearls is all I care to wear," said Honora--a reply with +which he was fain to be content until they were in the carriage, when +she added: "Howard, I must ask you as a favour not to talk that way +before the servants." + +"What way?" he demanded. + +"Oh," she exclaimed, "if you don't know I suppose it is impossible to +explain. You wouldn't understand." + +"I understand one thing, Honora, that you're too confoundedly clever for +me," he declared. + +Honora did not reply. For at that moment they drew up at a carpet +stretched across the pavement. + +Unlike the mansions of vast and imposing facades that were beginning +everywhere to catch the eye on Fifth Avenue, and that followed mostly +the continental styles of architecture, the house of the Cecil Graingers +had a substantial, "middle of-the-eighties" appearance. It stood on a +corner, with a high iron fence protecting the area around it. Within, it +gave one an idea of space that the exterior strangely belied; and it was +furnished, not in a French, but in what might be called a comfortably +English, manner. It was filled, Honora saw, with handsome and priceless +things which did not immediately and aggressively strike the eye, but +which somehow gave the impression of having always been there. What +struck her, as she sat in the little withdrawing room while the maid +removed her overshoes, was the note of permanence. + +Some of those who were present at Mrs. Grainger's that evening +remember her entrance into the drawing-room. Her gown, the colour of a +rose-tinted cloud, set off the exceeding whiteness of her neck and +arms and vied with the crimson in her cheeks, and the single glistening +string of pearls about the slender column of her neck served as a +contrast to the shadowy masses of her hair. Mr. Reginald Farwell, who +was there, afterwards declared that she seemed to have stepped out of +the gentle landscape of an old painting. She stood, indeed, hesitating +for a moment in the doorway, her eyes softly alight, in the very pose of +expectancy that such a picture suggested. + +Honora herself was almost frightened by a sense of augury, of triumph, +as she went forward to greet her hostess. Conversation, for the moment, +had stopped. Cecil Grainger, with the air of one who had pulled aside +the curtain and revealed this vision of beauty and innocence, crossed +the room to welcome her. And Mrs. Grainger herself was not a little +surprised; she was not a dramatic person, and it was not often that her +drawing-room was the scene of even a mild sensation. No entrance could +have been at once so startling and so unexceptionable as Honora's. + +"I was sorry not to find you when I called," she said. "I was sorry, +too," replied Mrs. Grainger, regarding her with an interest that was +undisguised, and a little embarrassing. "I'm scarcely ever at home, +except when I'm with the children. Do you know these people?" + +"I'm not sure," said Honora, "but--I must introduce my husband to you." + +"How d'ye do!" said Mr. Grainger, blinking at her when this ceremony was +accomplished. "I'm awfully glad to see you, Mrs. Spence, upon my word." + +Honora could not doubt it. But he had little time to express his joy, +because of the appearance of his wife at Honora's elbow with a tall man +she had summoned from a corner. + +"Before we go to dinner I must introduce my cousin, Mr. Chiltern--he is +to have the pleasure of taking you out," she said. + +His name was in the class of those vaguely familiar: vaguely familiar, +too, was his face. An extraordinary face, Honora thought, glancing at it +as she took his arm, although she was struck by something less tangible +than the unusual features. He might have belonged to any nationality +within the limits of the Caucasian race. His short, kinky, black hair +suggested great virility, an effect intensified by a strongly bridged +nose, sinewy hands, and bushy eyebrows. But the intangible distinction +was in the eyes that looked out from under these brows the glimpse she +had of them as he bowed to her gravely, might be likened to the +hasty reading of a chance page in a forbidden book. Her attention was +arrested, her curiosity aroused. She was on that evening, so to speak, +exposed for and sensitive to impressions. She was on the threshold of +the Alhambra. + +"Hugh has such a faculty," complained Mr. Grainger, "of turning up at +the wrong moment!" + +Dinner was announced. She took Chiltern's arm, and they fell into file +behind a lady in yellow, with a long train, who looked at her rather +hard. It was Mrs. Freddy Maitland. Her glance shifted to Chiltern, and +it seemed to Honora that she started a little. + +"Hello, Hugh," she said indifferently, looking back over her shoulder; +"have you turned up again?" + +"Still sticking to the same side of your horse, I see." he replied, +ignoring the question. "I told you you'd get lop-sided." + +The deformity, if there were any, did not seem to trouble her. + +"I'm going to Florida Wednesday. We want another man. Think it over." + +"Sorry, but I've got something else to do," he said. + +"The devil and idle hands," retorted Mrs. Maitland. + +Honora was sure as she could be that Chiltern was angry, although he +gave no visible sign of this. It was as though the current ran from his +arm into hers. + +"Have you been away?" she asked. + +"It seems to me as though I had never been anywhere else," he answered, +and he glanced curiously at the guests ranging about the great, +flower-laden table. They sat down. + +She was a little repelled, a little piqued; and a little relieved when +the man on her other side spoke to her, and she recognized Mr. Reginald +Farwell, the architect. The table capriciously swung that way. She did +not feel prepared to talk to Mr. Chiltern. And before entering upon her +explorations she was in need of a guide. She could have found none more +charming, none more impersonal, none more subtly aware of her wants +(which had once been his) than Mr. Farwell. With his hair parted with +geometrical precision from the back of his collar to his forehead, with +his silky mustache and eyes of soft hazel lights, he was all things +to all men and women--within reason. He was an achievement that +civilization had not hitherto produced, a combination of the Beaux Arts +and the Jockey Club and American adaptability. He was of those upon whom +labour leaves no trace. + +There were preliminaries, mutually satisfactory. To see Mrs. Spence was +never to forget her, but more delicately intimated. He remembered to +have caught a glimpse of her at the Quicksands Club, and Mrs. Dallam nor +her house were not mentioned by either. Honora could not have been +in New York Long. No, it was her first winter, and she felt like a +stranger. Would Mr. Farwell tell her who some of these people were? +Nothing charmed Mr. Farwell so much as simplicity--when it was combined +with personal attractions. He did not say so, but contrived to intimate +the former. + +"It's always difficult when one first comes to New York," he declared, +"but it soon straightens itself out, and one is surprised at how few +people there are, after all. We'll begin on Cecil's right. That's Mrs. +George Grenfell." + +"Oh, yes," said Honora, looking at a tall, thin woman of middle age who +wore a tiara, and whose throat was covered with jewels. Honora did not +imply that Mrs. Grenfell's name, and most of those that followed, were +extremely familiar to her. + +"In my opinion she's got the best garden in Newport, and she did most of +it herself. Next to her, with the bald head, is Freddy Maitland. Next +to him is Miss Godfrey. She's a little eccentric, but she can afford to +be--the Godfreys for generations have done so much for the city. The +man with the beard, next her, is John Laurens, the philanthropist. That +pretty woman, who's just as nice as she looks, is Mrs. Victor Strange. +She was Agatha Pendleton--Mrs. Grainger's cousin. And the gentleman with +the pink face, whom she is entertaining--" + +"Is my husband," said Honora, smiling. "I know something about him." + +Mr. Farwell laughed. He admired her aplomb, and he did not himself +change countenance. Indeed, the incident seemed rather to heighten the +confidence between them. Honora was looking rather critically at Howard. +It was a fact that his face did grow red at this stage of a dinner, and +she wondered what Mrs. Strange found to talk to him about. + +"And the woman on the other side of him?" she asked. "By the way, she +has a red face, too." + +"So she has," he replied amusedly. "That is Mrs. Littleton Pryor, the +greatest living rebuke to the modern woman. Most of those jewels are +inherited, but she has accustomed herself by long practice to carry +them, as well as other burdens. She has eight children, and she's on +every charity list. Her ancestors were the very roots of Manhattan. She +looks like a Holbein--doesn't she?" + +"And the extraordinary looking man on my right?" Honora asked. "I've got +to talk to him presently." + +"Chiltern!" he said. "Is it possible you haven't heard something about +Hugh Chiltern?" + +"Is it such lamentable ignorance?" she asked. + +"That depends upon one's point of view," he replied. "He's always been a +sort of a--well, Viking," said Farwell. + +Honora was struck by the appropriateness of the word. + +"Viking--yes, he looks it exactly. I couldn't think. Tell me something +about him." + +"Well," he laughed, lowering his voice a little, "here goes for a little +rough and ready editing. One thing about Chiltern that's to be admired +is that he's never cared a rap what people think. Of course, in a way, +he never had to. His family own a section of the state, where they've +had woollen mills for a hundred years, more or less. I believe Hugh +Chiltern has sold 'em, or they've gone into a trust, or something, but +the estate is still there, at Grenoble--one of the most beautiful +places I've ever seen. The General--this man's father--was a violent, +dictatorial man. There is a story about his taking a battery at +Gettysburg which is almost incredible. But he went back to Grenoble +after the war, and became the typical public-spirited citizen; built up +the mills which his own pioneer grandfather had founded, and all that. +He married an aunt of Mrs. Grainger's,--one of those delicate, gentle +women who never dare to call their soul their own." + +"And then?" prompted Honora, with interest. + +"It's only fair to Hugh," Farwell continued, "to take his early years +into account. The General never understood him, and his mother died +before he went off to school. Men who were at Harvard with him say he +has a brilliant mind, but he spent most of his time across the Charles +River breaking things. It was, probably, the energy the General got rid +of at Gettysburg. What Hugh really needed was a war, and he had too much +money. He has a curious literary streak, I'm told, and wrote a rather +remarkable article--I've forgotten just where it appeared. He raced a +yacht for a while in a dare-devil, fiendish way, as one might expect; +and used to go off on cruises and not be heard of for months. At last he +got engaged to Sally Harrington--Mrs. Freddy Maitland." + +Honora glanced across the table. + +"Exactly," said Mr. Farwell. "That was seven or eight years ago. Nobody +ever knew the reason why she broke it--though it may have been pretty +closely guessed. He went away, and nobody's laid eyes on him until he +turned up to-night." + +Honora's innocence was not too great to enable her to read between the +lines of this biography which Reginald Farwell had related with such +praiseworthy delicacy. It was a biography, she well knew, that, like a +score of others, had been guarded as jealously as possible within the +circle on the borders of which she now found herself. Mrs. Grainger with +her charities, Mrs. Littleton Pryor with her good works, Miss Godfrey +with her virtue--all swallowed it as gracefully as possible. Noblesse +oblige. Honora had read French and English memoirs, and knew that +history repeats itself. And a biography that is printed in black letter +and illuminated in gold is attractive in spite of its contents. The +contents, indeed, our heroine had not found uninteresting, and she +turned now to the subject with a flutter of anticipation. + +He looked at her intently, almost boldly, she thought, and before she +dropped her eyes she had made a discovery. The thing stamped upon his +face and burning in his eyes was not world-weariness, disappointment, +despair. She could not tell what it was, yet; that it was none of these, +she knew. It was not unrelated to experience, but transcended it. There +was an element of purpose in it, of determination, almost--she would +have believed--of hope. That Mrs. Maitland nor any other woman was +a part of it she became equally sure. Nothing could have been more +commonplace than the conversation which began, and yet it held for her, +between the lines as in the biography, the thrill of interest. She was a +woman, and embarked on a voyage of discovery. + +"Do you live in New York?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Honora, "since this autumn." + +"I've been away a good many years," he said, in explanation of his +question. "I haven't quite got my bearings. I can't tell you how queerly +this sort of thing affects me." + +"You mean civilization?" she hazarded. + +"Yes. And yet I've come back to it." + +Of course she did not ask him why. Their talk was like the starting of +a heavy train--a series of jerks; and yet both were aware of an +irresistible forward traction. She had not recovered from her surprise +in finding herself already so far in his confidence. + +"And the time will come, I suppose, when you'll long to get away again." + +"No," he said, "I've come back to stay. It's taken me a long while +to learn it, but there's only one place for a man, and that's his own +country." + +Her eyes lighted. + +"There's always so much for a man to do." + +"What would you do?" he asked curiously. + +She considered this. + +"If you had asked me that question two years ago--even a year ago--I +should have given you a different answer. It's taken me some time to +learn it, too, you see, and I'm not a man. I once thought I should have +liked to have been a king amongst money changers, and own railroad and +steamship lines, and dominate men by sheer power." + +He was clearly interested. + +"And now?" he prompted her. + +She laughed a little, to relieve the tension. + +"Well--I've found out that there are some men that kind of power can't +control--the best kind. And I've found out that that isn't the best kind +of power. It seems to be a brutal, barbarous cunning power now that I've +seen it at close range. There's another kind that springs from a man +himself, that speaks through his works and acts, that influences first +those around him, and then his community, convincing people of their own +folly, and that finally spreads in ever widening circles to those whom +he cannot see, and never will see." + +She paused, breathing deeply, a little frightened at her own eloquence. +Something told her that she was not only addressing her own soul--she +was speaking to his. + +"I'm afraid you'll think I'm preaching," she apologized. + +"No," he said impatiently, "no." + +"To answer your question, then, if I were a man of independent means, I +think I should go into politics. And I should put on my first campaign +banner the words, 'No Compromise.'" + +It was a little strange that, until now--to-night-she had not definitely +formulated these ambitions. The idea of the banner with its inscription +had come as an inspiration. He did not answer, but sat regarding her, +drumming on the cloth with his strong, brown fingers. + +"I have learned this much in New York," she said, carried on by her +impetus, "that men and women are like plants. To be useful, and to grow +properly, they must be firmly rooted in their own soil. This city +seems to me like a luxurious, overgrown hothouse. Of course," she added +hastily, "there are many people who belong here, and whose best work is +done here. I was thinking about those whom it attracts. And I have +seen so many who are only watered and fed and warmed, and who +become--distorted." + +"It's extraordinary," replied Chiltern, slowly, "that you should say +this to me. It is what I have come to believe, but I couldn't have said +it half so well." + +Mrs. Grainger gave the signal to rise. Honora took Chiltern's arm, and +he led her back to the drawing-room. She was standing alone by the fire +when Mrs. Maitland approached her. + +"Haven't I seen you before?" she asked. + + + + +CHAPTER III. VINELAND + +It was a pleasant Newport to which Honora went early in June, a fair +city shining in the midst of summer seas, a place to light the fires of +imagination. It wore at once an air of age, and of a new and sparkling +unreality. Honora found in the very atmosphere a certain magic which +she did not try to define, but to the enjoyment of which she abandoned +herself; and in those first days after her arrival she took a sheer +delight in driving about the island. Narrow Thames Street, crowded with +gay carriages, with its aspect of the eighteenth and it shops of the +twentieth century; the whiffs of the sea; Bellevue Avenue, with its +glorious serried ranks of trees, its erring perfumes from bright +gardens, its massed flowering shrubs beckoning the eye, its lawns of a +truly enchanted green. Through tree and hedge, as she drove, came ever +changing glimpses of gleaming palace fronts; glimpses that made her turn +and look again; that stimulated but did not satisfy, and left a pleasant +longing for something on the seeming verge of fulfilment. + +The very stillness and solitude that seemed to envelop these palaces +suggested the enchanter's wand. To-morrow, perhaps, the perfect lawns +where the robins hopped amidst the shrubbery would become again the +rock-bound, windswept New England pasture above the sea, and screaming +gulls circle where now the swallows hovered about the steep blue roof +of a French chateau. Hundreds of years hence, would these great pleasure +houses still be standing behind their screens and walls and hedges? or +would, indeed, the shattered, vine-covered marble of a balustrade alone +mark the crumbling terraces whence once the fabled owners scanned the +sparkling waters of the ocean? Who could say? + +The onward rush of our story between its canon walls compels us +reluctantly to skip the narrative of the winter conquests of the lady +who is our heroine. Popularity had not spoiled her, and the best proof +of this lay in the comments of a world that is nothing if not critical. +No beauty could have received with more modesty the triumph which had +greeted her at Mrs. Grenfell's tableaux, in April, when she had appeared +as Circe, in an architectural frame especially designed by Mr. Farwell +himself. There had been a moment of hushed astonishment, followed by an +acclaim that sent the curtain up twice again. + +We must try to imagine, too, the logical continuation of that triumph +in the Baiae of our modern republic and empire, Newport. Open, Sesame! +seems, as ever, to be the countersign of her life. Even the palace gates +swung wide to her: most of them with the more readiness because she +had already passed through other gates--Mrs. Grainger's, for instance. +Baiae, apparently, is a topsy-turvy world in which, if one alights +upside down, it is difficult to become righted. To alight upside down, +is to alight in a palace. The Graingers did not live in one, but in a +garden that existed before the palaces were, and one that the palace +owners could not copy: a garden that three generations of Graingers, +somewhat assisted by a remarkable climate, had made with loving care. +The box was priceless, the spreading trees in the miniature park no less +so, and time, the unbribeable, alone could now have produced the wide, +carefully cherished Victorian mansion. Likewise not purchasable by +California gold was a grandfather whose name had been written large in +the pages of American history. His library was now lined with English +sporting prints; but these, too, were old and mellow and rare. + +To reach Honora's cottage, you turned away from the pomp and glitter and +noise of Bellevue Avenue into the inviting tunnel of a leafy lane +that presently stopped of itself. As though to provide against the +contingency of a stray excursionist, a purple-plumed guard of old lilac +trees massed themselves before the house, and seemed to look down with +contempt on the new brick wall across the lane. 'Odi profanum vulgus'. +It was on account of the new brick wall, in fact, that Honora, through +the intervention of Mrs. Grainger and Mrs. Shorter, had been able to +obtain this most desirable of retreats, which belonged to a great-aunt +of Miss Godfrey, Mrs. Forsythe. + +Mr. Chamberlin, none other than he of whom we caught a glimpse some +years ago in a castle near Silverdale, owned the wall and the grounds +and the palace it enclosed. This gentleman was of those who arrive +in Newport upside down; and was even now, with the somewhat doubtful +assistance of his wife, making lavish and pathetic attempts to right +himself. Newport had never forgiven him for the razing of a mansion and +the felling of trees which had been landmarks, and for the driving out +of Mrs. Forsythe. The mere sight of the modern wall had been too much +for this lady--the lilacs and the leaves in the lane mercifully hid the +palace--and after five and thirty peaceful summers she had moved out, +and let the cottage. It was furnished with delightful old-fashioned +things that seemed to express, at every turn, the aristocratic and +uncompromising personality of the owner who had lived so long in their +midst. + +Mr. Chamberlin, who has nothing whatever to do with this chronicle +except to have been the indirect means of Honora's installation, used to +come through the wall once a week or so to sit for half an hour on her +porch as long as he ever sat anywhere. He had reddish side-whiskers, and +he reminded her of a buzzing toy locomotive wound up tight and suddenly +taken from the floor. She caught glimpses of him sometimes in the +mornings buzzing around his gardeners, his painters, his carpenters, and +his grooms. He would buzz the rest of his life, but nothing short of a +revolution could take his possessions away. + +The Graingers and the Grenfells and the Stranges might move mountains, +but not Mr. Chamberlin's house. Whatever heart-burnings he may have had +because certain people refused to come to his balls, he was in Newport +to remain. He would sit under the battlements until the crack of doom; +or rather--and more appropriate in Mr. Chamberlin's case--walk around +them and around, blowing trumpets until they capitulated. + +Honora magically found herself within them, and without a siege. Behold +her at last in the setting for which we always felt she was destined. +Why is it, in this world, that realization is so difficult a thing? Now +that she is there, how shall we proceed to give the joys of her Elysium +their full value? Not, certainly, by repeating the word pleasure over +and over again: not by describing the palaces at which she lunched +and danced and dined, or the bright waters in which she bathed, or +the yachts in which she sailed. During the week, indeed, she moved +untrammelled in a world with which she found herself in perfect harmony: +it was new, it was dazzling, it was unexplored. During the week it +possessed still another and more valuable attribute--it was real. And +she, Honora Leffingwell Spence, was part and parcel of its permanence. +The life relationships of the people by whom she was surrounded became +her own. She had little time for thought--during the week. + +We are dealing, now, in emotions as delicate as cloud shadows, and these +drew on as Saturday approached. On Saturdays and Sundays the quality +and texture of life seemed to undergo a change. Who does not recall the +Monday mornings of the school days of youth, and the indefinite feeling +betwixt sleep and waking that to-day would not be as yesterday or the +day before? On Saturday mornings, when she went downstairs, she was wont +to find the porch littered with newspapers and her husband lounging in +a wicker chair behind the disapproving lilacs. Although they had long +ceased to bloom, their colour was purple--his was pink. + +Honora did not at first analyze or define these emotions, and was +conscious only of a stirring within her, and a change. Reality became +unreality. The house in which she lived, and for which she felt a +passion of ownership, was for two days a rented house. Other women in +Newport had week-end guests in the guise of husbands, and some of them +went so far as to bewail the fact. Some had got rid of them. Honora +kissed hers dutifully, and picked up the newspapers, drove him to +the beach, and took him out to dinner, where he talked oracularly of +finance. On Sunday night he departed, without visible regrets, for New +York. + +One Monday morning a storm was raging over Newport. Seized by a sudden +whim, she rang her bell, breakfasted at an unusual hour, and nine +o'clock found her, with her skirts flying, on the road above the cliffs +that leads to the Fort. The wind had increased to a gale, and as she +stood on the rocks the harbour below her was full of tossing white +yachts straining at their anchors. Serene in the midst of all this +hubbub lay a great grey battleship. + +Presently, however, her thoughts were distracted by the sight of +something moving rapidly across her line of vision. A sloop yacht, with +a ridiculously shortened sail, was coming in from the Narrows, scudding +before the wind like a frightened bird. She watched its approach in a +sort of fascination, for of late she had been upon the water enough +to realize that the feat of which she was witness was not without its +difficulties. As the sloop drew nearer she made out a bare-headed figure +bent tensely at the wheel, and four others clinging to the yellow deck. +In a flash the boat had rounded to, the mainsail fell, and a veil of +spray hid the actors of her drama. When it cleared the yacht was tugging +like a wild thing at its anchor. + +That night was Mrs. Grenfell's ball, and many times in later years has +the scene come back to Honora. It was not a large ball, by no means on +the scale of Mr. Chamberlin's, for instance. The great room reminded one +of the gallery of a royal French chateau, with its dished ceiling, in +the oval of which the colours of a pastoral fresco glowed in the ruby +lights of the heavy chandeliers; its grey panelling, hidden here and +there by tapestries, and its series of deep, arched windows that +gave glimpses of a lantern-hung terrace. Out there, beyond a marble +balustrade, the lights of fishing schooners tossed on a blue-black +ocean. The same ocean on which she had looked that morning, and which +she heard now, in the intervals of talk and laughter, crashing against +the cliffs,--although the wind had gone down. Like a woman stirred to +the depths of her being, its bosom was heaving still at the memory of +the passion of the morning. + +This night after the storm was capriciously mild, the velvet gown of +heaven sewn with stars. The music had ceased, and supper was being +served at little tables on the terrace. The conversation was desultory. + +"Who is that with Reggie Farwell?" Ethel Wing asked. + +"It's the Farrenden girl," replied Mr. Cuthbert, whose business it was +to know everybody. "Chicago wheat. She looks like Ceres, doesn't she? +Quite becoming to Reggie's dark beauty. She was sixteen, they tell me, +when the old gentleman emerged from the pit, and they packed her off to +a convent by the next steamer. Reggie may have the blissful experience +of living in one of his own houses if he marries her." + +The fourth at the table was Ned Carrington, who had been first secretary +at an Embassy, and he had many stories to tell of ambassadors who spoke +commercial American and asked royalties after their wives. Some one had +said about him that he was the only edition of the Almanach de Gotha +that included the United States. He somewhat resembled a golden seal +emerging from a cold bath, and from time to time screwed an eyeglass +into his eye and made a careful survey of Mrs. Grenfell's guests. + +"By George!" he exclaimed. "Isn't that Hugh Chiltern?" + +Honora started, and followed the direction of Mr. Carrington's glance. +At sight of him, a vivid memory of the man's personality possessed her. + +"Yes," Cuthbert was saying, "that's Chiltern sure enough. He came in on +Dicky Farnham's yacht this morning from New York." + +"This morning!" said Ethel Wing. "Surely not! No yacht could have come +in this morning." + +"Nobody but Chiltern would have brought one in, you mean," he corrected +her. "He sailed her. They say Dicky was half dead with fright, and +wanted to put in anywhere. Chiltern sent him below and kept right on. +He has a devil in him, I believe. By the way, that's Dicky Farnham's +ex-wife he's talking to--Adele. She keeps her good looks, doesn't she? +What's happened to Rindge?" + +"Left him on the other side, I hear," said Carrington. "Perhaps she'll +take Chiltern next. She looked as though she were ready to. And they say +it's easier every time." + +"C'est le second mari qui coute," paraphrased Cuthbert, tossing his +cigar over the balustrade. The strains of a waltz floated out of the +windows, the groups at the tables broke up, and the cotillon began. + +As Honora danced, Chiltern remained in the back of her mind, or rather +an indefinite impression was there which in flashes she connected with +him. She wondered, at times, what had become of him, and once or twice +she caught herself scanning the bewildering, shifting sheen of gowns +and jewels for his face. At last she saw him by the windows, holding a +favour in his hand, coming in her direction. She looked away, towards +the red uniforms of the Hungarian band on the raised platform at the end +of the room. He was standing beside her. + +"Do you remember me, Mrs. Spence?" he asked. + +She glanced up at him and smiled. He was not a person one would be +likely to forget, but she did not say so. + +"I met you at Mrs. Granger's," was what she said. + +He handed her the favour. She placed it amongst the collection at the +back of her chair and rose, and they danced. Was it dancing? The music +throbbed; nay, the musicians seemed suddenly to have been carried out +of themselves, and played as they had not played before. Her veins +were filled with pulsing fire as she was swung, guided, carried out of +herself by the extraordinary virility of the man who held her. She had +tasted mastery. + +"Thank you," she faltered, as they came around the second time to her +seat. + +He released her. + +"I stayed to dance with you," he said. "I had to await my opportunity." + +"It was kind of you to remember me," she replied, as she went off with +Mr. Carrington. + +A moment later she saw him bidding good night to his hostess. His face, +she thought, had not lost that strange look of determination that she +recalled. And yet--how account for his recklessness? + +"Rum chap, Chiltern," remarked Carrington. "He might be almost anything, +if he only knew it." + +In the morning, when she awoke, her eye fell on the cotillon favours +scattered over the lounge. One amongst them stood out--a silver-mounted +pin-cushion. Honora arose, picked it up contemplatively, stared at it +awhile, and smiled. Then she turned to her window, breathing in the +perfumes, gazing out through the horse-chestnut leaves at the green, +shadow-dappled lawn below. + +On her breakfast tray, amidst some invitations, was a letter from her. +uncle. This she opened first. + + "Dear Honora," he wrote, "amongst your father's papers, which have + been in my possession since his death, was a certificate for three + hundred shares in a land company. He bought them for very little, + and I had always thought them worthless. It turns out that these + holdings are in a part of the state of Texas that is now being + developed; on the advice of Mr. Isham and others I have accepted an + offer of thirty dollars a share, and I enclose a draft on New York + for nine thousand dollars. I need not dwell upon the pleasure it is + for me to send you this legacy from your father. And I shall only + add the counsel of an old uncle, to invest this money by your + husband's advice in some safe securities."... + +Honora put down the letter, and sat staring at the cheque in her hand. +Nine thousand dollars--and her own! Her first impulse was to send it +back to her uncle. But that would be, she knew, to hurt his feelings--he +had taken such a pride in handing her this inheritance. She read the +letter again, and resolved that she would not ask Howard to invest the +money. This, at least, should be her very own, and she made up her mind +to take it to a bank in Thames Street that morning. + +While she was still under the influence of the excitement aroused by +the unexpected legacy, Mrs. Shorter came in, a lady with whom Honora's +intimacy had been of steady growth. The tie between them might perhaps +have been described as intellectual, for Elsie Shorter professed only +to like people who were "worth while." She lent Honora French plays, +discussed them with her, and likewise a wider range of literature, +including certain brightly bound books on evolution and sociology. + +In the eighteenth century, Mrs. Shorter would have had a title and a +salon in the Faubourg: in the twentieth, she was the wife of a most +fashionable and successful real estate agent in New York, and was aware +of no incongruity. Bourgeoise was the last thing that could be said of +her; she was as ready as a George Sand to discuss the whole range of +human emotions; which she did many times a week with certain gentlemen +of intellectual bent who had the habit of calling on her. She had never, +to the knowledge of her acquaintances, been shocked. But while she +believed that a great love carried, mysteriously concealed in its flame, +its own pardon, she had through some fifteen years of married life +remained faithful to Jerry Shorter: who was not, to say the least, a +Lochinvar or a Roland. Although she had had nervous prostration and was +thirty-four, she was undeniably pretty. She was of the suggestive, and +not the strong-minded type, and the secret of her strength with the +other sex was that she was in the habit of submitting her opinions for +their approval. + +"My dear," she said to Honora, "you may thank heaven that you are still +young enough to look beautiful in negligee. How far have you got? Have +you guessed of which woman Vivarce was the lover? And isn't it the most +exciting play you've ever read? Ned Carrington saw it in Paris, and +declares it frightened him into being good for a whole week!" + +"Oh, Elsie," exclaimed Honora, apologetically, "I haven't read a word of +it." + +Mrs. Shorter glanced at the pile of favours. + +"How was the dance?" she asked. "I was too tired to go. Hugh Chiltern +offered to take me." + +"I saw Mr. Chiltern there. I met him last winter at the Graingers'." + +"He's staying with us," said Mrs. Shorter; "you know he's a sort of +cousin of Jerry's, and devoted to him. He turned up yesterday morning on +Dicky Farnham's yacht, in the midst of all that storm. It appears that +Dicky met him in New York, and Hugh said he was coming up here, and +Dicky offered to sail him up. When the storm broke they were just +outside, and all on board lost their heads, and Hugh took charge and +sailed in. Dicky told me that himself." + +"Then it wasn't--recklessness," said Honora, involuntarily. But Mrs. +Shorter did not appear to be surprised by the remark. + +"That's what everybody thinks, of course," she answered. "They say that +he had a chance to run in somewhere, and browbeat Dicky into keeping on +for Newport at the risk of their lives. They do Hugh an injustice. He +might have done that some years ago, but he's changed." + +Curiosity got the better of Honora. + +"Changed?" she repeated. + +"Of course you didn't know him in the old days, Honora," said Mrs. +Shorter. "You wouldn't recognize him now. I've seen a good deal of men, +but he is the most interesting and astounding transformation I've ever +known." + +"How?" asked Honora. She was sitting before the glass, with her hand +raised to her hair. + +Mrs. Shorter appeared puzzled. + +"That's what interests me," she said. "My dear, don't you think life +tremendously interesting? I do. I wish I could write a novel. Between +ourselves, I've tried. I had Mr. Dewing send it to a publisher, who said +it was clever, but had no plot. If I only could get a plot!" + +Honora laughed. + +"How would I The Transformation of Mr. Chiltern' do, Elsie?" + +"If I only knew what's happened to him, and how he's going to end!" +sighed Mrs. Shorter. + +"You were saying," said Honora, for her friend seemed to have relapsed +into a contemplation of this problem, "you were saying that he had +changed." + +"He goes away for seven years, and he suddenly turns up filled with +ambition and a purpose in life, something he had never dreamed of. He's +been at Grenoble, where the Chiltern estate is, making improvements and +preparing to settle down there. And he's actually getting ready to write +a life of his father, the General--that's the most surprising thing! +They never met but to strike fire while the General was alive. It +appears that Jerry and Cecil Grainger and one or two other people have +some of the old gentleman's letters, and that's the reason why Hugh's +come to Newport. And the strangest thing about it, my dear," added Mrs. +Shorter, inconsequently, "is that I don't think it's a love affair." + +Honora laughed again. It was the first time she had ever heard Mrs. +Shorter attribute unusual human phenomena to any other source. "He wrote +Jerry that he was coming back to live on the estate,--from England. And +he wasn't there a week. I can't think where he's seen any women--that +is," Mrs. Shorter corrected herself hastily, "of his own class. +He's been in the jungle--India, Africa, Cores. That was after Sally +Harrington broke the engagement. And I'm positive he's not still in +love with Sally. She lunched with me yesterday, and I watched him. Oh, +I should have known it. But Sally hasn't got over it. It wasn't a grand +passion with Hugh. I don't believe he's ever had such a thing. Not that +he isn't capable of it--on the contrary, he's one of the few men I can +think of who is." + +At this point in the conversation Honora thought that her curiosity had +gone far enough. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE VIKING + +She was returning on foot from the bank in Thames Street, where she had +deposited her legacy, when she met him who had been the subject of her +conversation with Mrs. Shorter. And the encounter seemed--and was--the +most natural thing in the world. She did not stop to ask herself why +it was so fitting that the Viking should be a part of Vineland: why his +coming should have given it the one and final needful touch. For that +designation of Reginald Farwell's had come back to her. Despite the +fact that Hugh Chiltern had with such apparent resolution set his face +towards literature and the tillage of the land, it was as the Viking +still that her imagination pictured him. By these tokens we may perceive +that this faculty of our heroine's has been at work, and her canvas +already sketched in. + +Whether by design or accident he was at the leafy entrance of her lane +she was not to know. She spied him standing there; and in her leisurely +approach a strange conceit of reincarnation possessed her, and she +smiled at the contrast thus summoned up. Despite the jingling harnesses +of Bellevue Avenue and the background of Mr. Chamberlin's palace wall; +despite the straw hat and white trousers and blue double-breasted serge +coat in which he was conventionally arrayed, he was the sea fighter +still--of all the ages. M. Vipsanius Agrippa, who had won an empire for +Augustus, had just such a head. + +Their greeting, too, was conventional enough, and he turned and walked +with her up the lane, and halted before the lilacs. "You have Mrs. +Forsythe's house," he said. "How well I remember it! My mother used to +bring me here years ago." + +"Won't you come in?" asked Honora, gently. + +He seemed to have forgotten her as they mounted in silence to the porch, +and she watched him with curious feelings as he gazed about him, and +peered through the windows into the drawing-room. + +"It's just as it was," he said. "Even the furniture. I'm glad you +haven't moved it. They used to sit over there in the corner, and have +tea on the ebony table. And it was always dark-just as it is now. I can +see them. They wore dresses with wide skirts and flounces, and queer low +collars and bonnets. And they talked in subdued voices--unlike so many +women in these days." + +She was a little surprised, and moved, by the genuine feeling with which +he spoke. + +"I was most fortunate to get the house," she answered. "And I have grown +to love it. Sometimes it seems as though I had always lived here." + +"Then you don't envy that," he said, flinging his hand towards an +opening in the shrubbery which revealed a glimpse of one of the +pilasters of the palace across the way. The instinct of tradition which +had been the cause of Mrs. Forsythe's departure was in him, too. He, +likewise, seemed to belong to the little house as he took one of the +wicker chairs. + +"Not," said Honora, "when I can have this." + +She was dressed in white, her background of lilac leaves. Seated on the +railing, with the tip of one toe resting on the porch, she smiled down +at him from under the shadows of her wide hat. + +"I didn't think you would," he declared. "This place seems to suit you, +as I imagined you. I have thought of you often since we first met last +winter." + +"Yes," she replied hastily, "I am very happy here. Mrs. Shorter tells me +you are staying with then." + +"When I saw you again last night," he continued, ignoring her attempt +to divert the stream from his channel, "I had a vivid impression as of +having just left you. Have you ever felt that way about people?" + +"Yes," she admitted, and poked the toe of her boot with her parasol. + +"And then I find you in this house, which has so many associations +for me. Harmoniously here," he added, "if you know what I mean. Not a +newcomer, but some one who must always have been logically expected." + +She glanced at him quickly, with parted lips. It was she who had done +most of the talking at Mrs. Grainger's dinner; and the imaginative +quality of mind he was now revealing was unlooked for. She was surprised +not to find it out of character. It is a little difficult to know +what she expected of him, since she did not know herself the methods, +perhaps; of the Viking in Longfellow's poem. She was aware, at least, +that she had attracted him, and she was beginning to realize it was not +a thing that could be done lightly. This gave her a little flutter of +fear. + +"Are you going to be long in Newport?" she asked. + +"I am leaving on Friday," he replied. "It seems strange to be here again +after so many years. I find I've got out of touch with it. And I haven't +a boat, although Farnham's been kind enough to offer me his." + +"I can't imagine you, somehow, without a boat," she said, and added +hastily: "Mrs. Shorter was speaking of you this morning, and said that +you were always on the water when you were here. Newport must have been +quite different then." + +He accepted the topic, and during the remainder of his visit she +succeeded in keeping the conversation in the middle ground, although she +had a sense of the ultimate futility of the effort; a sense of pressure +being exerted, no matter what she said. She presently discovered, +however, that the taste for literature attributed to him which had +seemed so incongruous--existed. He spoke with a new fire when she led +him that way, albeit she suspected that some of the fuel was derived +from the revelation that she shared his liking for books. As the extent +of his reading became gradually disclosed, however, her feeling of +inadequacy grew, and she resolved in the future to make better use of +her odd moments. On her table, in two green volumes, was the life of a +Massachusetts statesman that Mrs. Shorter had lent her. She picked it up +after Chiltern had gone. He had praised it. + +He left behind him a blurred portrait on her mind, as that of two +men superimposed. And only that morning he had had such a distinct +impression of one. It was from a consideration of this strange +phenomenon, with her book lying open in her lap, that her maid aroused +her to go to Mrs. Pryor's. This was Tuesday. + +Some of the modern inventions we deem most marvellous have been fitted +for ages to man and woman. Woman, particularly, possesses for instance +a kind of submarine bell; and, if she listens, she can at times hear +it tinkling faintly. And the following morning, Wednesday, Honora heard +hers when she received an invitation to lunch at Mrs. Shorter's. After +a struggle, she refused, but Mrs. Shorter called her up over the +telephone, and she yielded. + +"I've got Alfred Dewing for myself," said Elsie Shorter, as she greeted +Honora in the hall. "He writes those very clever things--you've read +them. And Hugh for you," she added significantly. + +The Shorter cottage, though commodious, was simplicity itself. From the +vine-covered pergola where they lunched they beheld the distant sea like +a lavender haze across the flats. And Honora wondered whether there were +not an element of truth in what Mr. Dewing said of their hostess--that +she thought nothing immoral except novels with happy endings. Chiltern +did not talk much: he looked at Honora. + +"Hugh has got so serious," said Elsie Shorter, "that sometimes I'm +actually afraid of him. You ought to have done something to be as +serious as that, Hugh." + +"Done something!" + +"Written the 'Origin of Species,' or founded a new political party, or +executed a coup d'etat. Half the time I'm under the delusion that I'm +entertaining a celebrity under my roof, and I wake up and it's only +Hugh." + +"It's because he looks as though he might do any of those things," +suggested Mr. Deming. "Perhaps he may." + +"Oh," said Elsie Shorter, "the men who do them are usually little wobbly +specimens." + +Honora was silent, watching Chiltern. At times the completeness of her +understanding of him gave her an uncanny sensation; and again she failed +to comprehend him at all. She felt his anger go to a white heat, but the +others seemed blissfully unaware of the fact. The arrival of coffee made +a diversion. + +"You and Hugh may have the pergola, Honora. I'll take Mr. Deming into +the garden." + +"I really ought to go in a few minutes, Elsie," said Honora. + +"What nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Shorter. "If it's bridge at the +Playfairs', I'll telephone and get you out of it." + +"No--" + +"Then I don't see where you can be going," declared Mrs. Shorter, and +departed with her cavalier. + +"Why are you so anxious to get away?" asked Chiltern, abruptly. + +Honora coloured. + +"Oh--did I seem so? Elsie has such a mania for pairing people +off-sometimes it's quite embarrassing." + +"She was a little rash in assuming that you'd rather talk to me," he +said, smiling. + +"You were not consulted, either." + +"I was consulted before lunch," he replied. + +"You mean--?" + +"I mean that I wanted you," he said. She had known it, of course. The +submarine bell had told her. And he could have found no woman in Newport +who would have brought more enthusiasm to his aid than Elsie Shorter. + +"And you usually--get what you want," she retorted with a spark of +rebellion. + +"Yes," he admitted. "Only hitherto I haven't wanted very desirable +things." + +She laughed, but her curiosity got the better of her. + +"Hitherto," she said, "you have just taken what you desired." + +From the smouldering fires in his eyes darted an arrowpoint of flame. + +"What kind of a man are you?" she asked, throwing the impersonal to the +winds. "Somebody called you a Viking once." + +"Who?" he demanded. + +"It doesn't matter. I'm beginning to think the name singularly +appropriate. It wouldn't be the first time one landed in Newport, +according to legend," she added. + +"I haven't read the poem since childhood," said Chiltern, looking at her +fixedly, "but he became--domesticated, if I remember rightly." + +"Yes," she admitted, "the impossible happened to him, as it usually does +in books. And then, circumstances helped. There were no other women." + +"When the lady died," said Chiltern, "he fell upon his spear." + +"The final argument for my theory," declared Honora. + +"On the contrary," he maintained, smiling, "it proves there is always +one woman for every man--if he cars find her. If this man had lived in +modern times, he would probably have changed from a Captain Kidd into a +useful citizen of the kind you once said you admired." + +"Is a woman necessary," she asked, "for the transformation?" + +He looked at her so intently that she blushed to the hair clustering at +her temples. She had not meant that her badinage should go so deep. + +"It was not a woman," he said slowly, "that brought me back to America." + +"Oh," she exclaimed, suffused, "I hope you won't think that +curiosity"--and got no farther. + +He was silent a moment, and when she ventured to glance up at him one +of those enigmatical changes had taken place. He was looking at her +gravely, though intently, and the Viking had disappeared. + +"I wanted you to know," he answered. "You must have heard more or less +about me. People talk. Naturally these things haven't been repeated to +me, but I dare say many of them are true. I haven't been a saint, and +I don't pretend to be now. I've never taken the trouble to deceive any +one. And I've never cared, I'm sorry to say, what was said. But I'd like +you to believe that when I agreed with with the sentiments you expressed +the first time I saw you, I was sincere. And I am still sincere." + +"Indeed, I do believe it!" cried Honora. + +His face lighted. + +"You seemed different from the other women I had known--of my +generation, at least," he went on steadily. "None of them could have +spoken as you did. I had just landed that morning, and I should have +gone direct to Grenoble, but there was some necessary business to be +attended to in New York. I didn't want to go to Bessie's dinner, but +she insisted. She was short of a man. I went. I sat next to you, and +you interpreted my mind. It seemed too extraordinary not to have had a +significance." + +Honora did not reply. She felt instinctively that he was a man who was +not wont ordinarily to talk about his affairs. Beneath his speech was +an undercurrent--or undertow, perhaps--carrying her swiftly, easily, +helpless into the deep waters of intimacy. For the moment she let +herself go without a struggle. Her silence was of a breathless quality +which he must have felt. + +"And I am going to tell you why I came home," he said. "I have spoken of +it to nobody, but I wish you to know that it had nothing to do with any +ordinary complication these people may invent. Nor was there anything +supernatural about it: what happened to me, I suppose, is as old a story +as civilization itself. I'd been knocking about the world for a good +many years, and I'd had time to think. One day I found myself in the +interior of China with a few coolies and a man who I suspect was a +ticket-of-leave Englishman. I can see the place now the yellow fog, the +sand piled up against the wall like yellow snow. Desolation was a mild +name for it. I think I began with a consideration of the Englishman who +was asleep in the shadow of a tower. There was something inconceivably +hopeless in his face in that ochre light. Then the place where I was +born and brought up came to me with a startling completeness, and I +began to go over my own life, step by step. To make a long story short, +I perceived that what my father had tried to teach me, in his own way, +had some reason in it. He was a good deal of a man. I made up my mind +I'd come home and start in where I belonged. But I didn't do so right +away--I finished the trip first, and lent the Englishman a thousand +pounds to buy into a firm in Shanghai. I suppose," he added, "that +is what is called suggestion. In my case it was merely the cumulative +result of many reflections in waste places." + +"And since then?" + +"Since then I have been at Grenoble, making repairs and trying to learn +something about agriculture. I've never been as happy in my life." + +"And you're going back on Friday," she said. + +He glanced at her quickly. He had detected the note in her speech: +though lightly uttered, it was unmistakably a command. She tried to +soften its effect in her next sentence. + +"I can't express how much I appreciate your telling me this," she said. +"I'll confess to you I wished to think that something of that kind had +happened. I wished to believe that--that you had made this determination +alone. When I met you that night there was something about you I +couldn't account for. I haven't been able to account for it until now." + +She paused, confused, fearful that she had gone too far. A moment later +she was sure of it. A look came into his eyes that frightened her. + +"You've thought of me?" he said. + +"You must know," she replied, "that you have an unusual personality--a +striking one. I can go so far as to say that I remembered you when you +reappeared at Mrs. Grenfell's--" she hesitated. + +He rose, and walked to the far end of the tiled pavement of the pergola, +and stood for a moment looking out over the sea. Then he turned to her. + +"I either like a person or I don't," he said. "And I tell you frankly I +have never met a woman whom I cared for as I do you. I hope you're not +going to insist upon a probationary period of months before you decide +whether you can reciprocate." + +Here indeed was a speech in his other character, and she seemed to see, +in a flash, his whole life in it. There was a touch of boyishness that +appealed, a touch of insistent masterfulness that alarmed. She recalled +that Mrs. Shorter had said of him that he had never had to besiege a +fortress--the white flag had always appeared too quickly. Of course +there was the mystery of Mrs. Maitland--still to be cleared up. It +was plain, at least, that resistance merely made him unmanageable. She +smiled. + +"It seems to me," she said, "that in two days we have become +astonishingly intimate." + +"Why shouldn't we?" he demanded. + +But she was not to be led into casuistry. + +"I've been reading the biography you recommended," she said. + +He continued to look at her a moment, and laughed as he sat down beside +her. Later he walked home with her. A dinner and bridge followed, and +it was after midnight when she returned. As her maid unfastened her gown +she perceived that her pincushion had been replaced by the one she had +received at the ball. + +"Did you put that there, Mathilde?" she asked. + +Mathilde had. She had seen it on madame's bureau, and thought madame +wished it there. She would replace the old one at once. + +"No," said Honora, "you may leave it, now." + +"Bien, madame," said the maid, and glanced at her mistress, who appeared +to have fallen into a revery. + +It had seemed strange to her to hear people talking about him at the +dinner that night, and once or twice her soul had sprung to arms to +champion him, only to remember that her knowledge was special. She +alone of all of them understood, and she found herself exulting in the +superiority. The amazed comment when the heir to the Chiltern fortune +had returned to the soil of his ancestors had been revived on his +arrival in Newport. Ned Carrington, amid much laughter, had quoted the +lines about Prince Hal: + + "To mock the expectations of the world, + To frustrate prophecies." + +Honora disliked Mr. Carrington. + +Perhaps the events of Thursday, would better be left in the confusion in +which they remained in Honora's mind. She was awakened by penetrating, +persistent, and mournful notes which for some time she could not +identify, although they sounded oddly familiar; and it was not until she +felt the dampness of the coverlet and looked at the white square of her +open windows that she realized there was a fog. And it had not lifted +when Chiltern came in the afternoon. They discussed literature--but the +book had fallen to the floor. 'Absit omen'! If printing had then been +invented, undoubtedly there would have been a book instead of an +apple in the third chapter of Genesis. He confided to her his plan +of collecting his father's letters and of writing the General's life. +Honora, too, would enjoy writing a book. Perhaps the thought of the +pleasure of collaboration occurred to them both at once; it was Chiltern +who wished that he might have her help in the difficult places; she had, +he felt, the literary instinct. It was not the Viking who was talking +now. And then, at last, he had risen reluctantly to leave. The afternoon +had flown. She held out her hand with a frank smile. + +"Good-by," she said. "Good-by, and good luck." + +"But I may not go," he replied. + +She stood dismayed. + +"I thought you told me you were going on Friday--to-morrow." + +"I merely set that as a probable date. I have changed my mind. There is +no immediate necessity. Do you wish me to go?" he demanded. + +She had turned away, and was straightening the books on the table. + +"Why should I?" she said. + +"You wouldn't object to my remaining a few days more?" He had reached +the doorway. + +"What have I to do with your staying?" she asked. + +"Everything," he answered--and was gone. + +She stood still. The feeling that possessed her now was rebellion, and +akin to hate. + +Her conduct, therefore, becomes all the more incomprehensible when we +find her accepting, the next afternoon, his invitation to sail on +Mr. Farnham's yacht, the 'Folly'. It is true that the gods will not +exonerate Mrs. Shorter. That lady, who had been bribed with Alfred +Dewing, used her persuasive powers; she might be likened to a skilful +artisan who blew wonderful rainbow fabrics out of glass without breaking +it; she blew the tender passion into a thousand shapes, and admired +every one. Her criminal culpability consisted in forgetting the fact +that it could not be trusted with children. + +Nature seems to delight in contrasts. As though to atone for the fog +she sent a dazzling day out of the northwest, and the summer world was +stained in new colours. The yachts were whiter, the water bluer, the +grass greener; the stern grey rocks themselves flushed with purple. The +wharves were gay, and dark clustering foliage hid an enchanted city as +the Folly glided between dancing buoys. Honora, with a frightened glance +upward at the great sail, caught her breath. And she felt rather than +saw the man beside her guiding her seaward. + +A discreet expanse of striped yellow deck separated them from the wicker +chairs where Mrs. Shorter and Mr. Dewing were already established. She +glanced at the profile of the Viking, and allowed her mind to dwell for +an instant upon the sensations of that other woman who had been snatched +up and carried across the ocean. Which was the quality in him that +attracted her? his lawlessness, or his intellect and ambition? Never, +she knew, had he appealed to her more than at this moment, when he +stood, a stern figure at the wheel, and vouchsafed her nothing but +commonplaces. This, surely, was his element. + +Presently, however, the yacht slid out from the infolding land into an +open sea that stretched before them to a silver-lined horizon. And he +turned to her with a disconcerting directness, as though taking for +granted a subtle understanding between them. + +"How well you sail," she said, hurriedly. + +"I ought to be able to do that, at least," he declared. + +"I saw you when you came in the other day, although I didn't know who it +was until afterwards. I was standing on the rocks near the Fort, and my +heart was in my mouth." + +He answered that the Dolly was a good sea boat. + +"So you decided to forgive me," he said. + +"For what?" + +"For staying in Newport." + +Before accepting the invitation she had formulated a policy, cheerfully +confident in her ability to carry it out. For his decision not to +leave Newport had had an opposite effect upon her than that she had +anticipated; it had oddly relieved the pressure. It had given her a +chance to rally her forces; to smile, indeed, at an onslaught that had +so disturbed her; to examine the matter in a more rational light. It had +been a cause for self-congratulation that she had scarcely thought of +him the night before. And to-day, in her blue veil and blue serge gown, +she had boarded the 'Folly' with her wits about her. She forgot that it +was he who, so to speak, had the choice of ground and weapons. + +"I have forgiven you. Why shouldn't I, when you have so royally atoned." + +But he obstinately refused to fence. There was nothing apologetic in +this man, no indirectness in his method of attack. Parry adroitly as +she might, he beat down her guard. As the afternoon wore on there were +silences, when Honora, by staring over the waters, tried to collect her +thoughts. But the sea was his ally, and she turned her face appealingly +toward the receding land. Fascination and fear struggled within her as +she had listened to his onslaughts, and she was conscious of being +moved by what he was, not by what he said. Vainly she glanced at the two +representatives of an ironically satisfied convention, only to realize +that they were absorbed in a milder but no less entrancing aspect of the +same topic, and would not thank her for an interruption. + +"Do you wish me to go away?" he asked at last abruptly, almost rudely. + +"Surely," she said, "your work, your future isn't in Newport." + +"You haven't answered my question." + +"It's because I have no right to answer it," she replied. "Although +we have known each other so short a time, I am your friend. You must +realize that. I am not conventional. I have lived long enough to +understand that the people one likes best are not necessarily those one +has known longest. You interest me--I admit it frankly--I speak to you +sincerely. I am even concerned that you shall find happiness, and I feel +that you have the power to make something of yourself. What more can +I say? It seems to me a little strange," she added, "that under the +circumstances I should say so much. I can give no higher proof of my +friendship." + +He did not reply, but gave a sharp order to the crew. The sheet was +shortened, and the Folly obediently headed westward against the swell, +flinging rainbows from her bows as she ran. Mrs. Shorter and Dewing +returned at this moment from the cabin, where they had been on a tour of +inspection. + +"Where are you taking us, Hugh?" said Mrs. Shorter. "Nowhere in +particular," he replied. + +"Please don't forget that I am having people to dinner to-night. That's +all I ask. What have you done to him, Honora, to put him in such a +humour?" + +Honora laughed. + +"I hadn't noticed anything peculiar about him," she answered. + +"This boat reminds me of Adele," said Mrs. Shorter. "She loved it. I can +see how she could get a divorce from Dicky--but the 'Folly'! She told +me yesterday that the sight of it made her homesick, and Eustace Rindge +won't leave Paris." + +It suddenly occurred to Honora, as she glanced around the yacht, that +Mrs. Rindge rather haunted her. + +"So that is your answer," said Chiltern, when they were alone again. + +"What other can I give you?" + +"Is it because you are married?" he demanded. + +She grew crimson. + +"Isn't that an unnecessary question?" + +"No," he declared. "It concerns me vitally to understand you. You were +good enough to wish that I should find happiness. I have found the +possibility of it--in you." + +"Oh," she cried, "don't say such things!" + +"Have you found happiness?" he asked. + +She turned her face from him towards their shining wake. But he had seen +that her eyes were filled with sudden tears. + +"Forgive me," he pleaded; "I did not mean to be brutal. I said that +because I felt as I have never in my life felt before. As I did not know +I could feel. I can't account for it, but I ask you to believe me." + +"I can account for it," she answered presently, with a strange +gentleness. "It is because you met me at a critical time. +Such-coincidences often occur in life. I happened to be a woman; and, I +confess it, a woman who was interested. I could not have been interested +if you had been less real, less sincere. But I saw that you were going +through a crisis; that you might, with your powers, build up your life +into a splendid and useful thing. And, womanlike, my instinct was +to help you. I should not have allowed you to go on, but--but it all +happened so quickly that I was bewildered. I--I do not understand it +myself." + +He listened hungrily, and yet at times with evident impatience. + +"No," he said, "I cannot believe that it was an accident. It was you--" + +She stopped him with an imploring gesture. + +"Please," she said, "please let us go in." + +Without an instant's hesitation he brought the sloop about and headed +her for the light-ship on Brenton's reef, and they sailed in silence. +Awhile she watched the sapphire waters break to dazzling whiteness under +the westerning sun. Then, in an ecstasy she did not seek to question, +she closed her eyes to feel more keenly the swift motion of their +flight. Why not? The sea, the winds of heaven, had aided others since +the dawn of history. Legend was eternally true. On these very shores +happiness had awaited those who had dared to face primeval things. + +She looked again, this time towards an unpeopled shore. No sentinel +guarded the uncharted reefs, and the very skies were smiling, after the +storm, at the scudding fates. + +It was not until they were landlocked once more, and the Folly was +reluctantly beating back through the Narrows, that he spoke again. + +"So you wish me to go away?" + +"I cannot see any use in your staying," she replied, "after what you +have said. I--cannot see," she added in a low voice, "that for you to +remain would be to promote the happiness of--either of us. You should +have gone to-day." + +"You care!" he exclaimed. + +"It is because I do not wish to care that I tell you to go--" + +"And you refuse happiness?" + +"It could be happiness for neither of us," said Honora. "The situation +would be impossible. You are not a man who would be satisfied with +moderation. You would insist upon having all. And you do not know what +you are asking." + +"I know that I want you," he said, "and that my life is won or lost with +or without you." + +"You have no right to say such a thing." + +"We have each of us but one life to live." + +"And one life to ruin," she answered. "See, you are running on the +rocks!" + +He swung the boat around. + +"Others have rebuilt upon ruins," he declared. + +She smiled at him. + +"But you are taking my ruins for granted," she said. "You would make +them first." + +He relapsed into silence again. The Folly needed watching. Once he +turned and spoke her name, and she did not rebuke him. + +"Women have a clearer vision of the future than men," she began +presently, "and I know you better than you know yourself. What--what +you desire would not mend your life, but break it utterly. I am speaking +plainly. As I have told you, you interest me; so far that is the extent +of my feelings. I do not know whether they would go any farther, but on +your account as well as my own I will not take the risk. We have come to +an impasse. I am sorry. I wish we might have been friends, but what you +have said makes it impossible. There is only one thing to do, and that +is for you to go away." + +He eased off his sheet, rounded the fort, and set a course for the +moorings. The sun hung red above the silhouetted roofs of Conanicut, +and a quaint tower in the shape of a minaret stood forth to cap the +illusions of a day. + +The wind was falling, the harbour quieting for the night, and across the +waters, to the tones of a trumpet, the red bars of the battleship's flag +fluttered to the deck. The Folly, making a wide circle, shot into the +breeze, and ended by gliding gently up to the buoy. + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST + +It was Saturday morning, but Honora had forgotten the fact. Not until +she was on the bottom step did the odour of cigarettes reach her and +turn her faint; and she clutched suddenly at the banisters. Thus +she stood for a while, motionless, and then went quietly into the +drawing-room. The French windows looking out on the porch were, as +usual, open. + +It was an odd sensation thus to be regarding one's husband objectively. +For the first time he appeared to her definitely as a stranger; as +much a stranger as the man who came once a week to wind Mrs. Forsythe's +clocks. Nay, more. There was a sense of intrusion in this visit, of +invasion of a life with which he had nothing to do. She examined him +ruthlessly, very much as one might examine a burglar taken unawares. +There was the inevitable shirt with the wide pink stripes, of the +abolishment or even of the effective toning down of which she had long +since despaired. On the contrary, like his complexion, they evinced a +continual tendency towards a more aggressive colour. There was also the +jewelled ring, now conspicuously held aloft on a fat little finger. The +stripes appeared that morning as the banner of a hated suzerain, the +ring as the emblem of his overlordship. He did not belong in that house; +everything in it cried out for his removal; and yet it was, in the eyes +of the law at least, his. By grace of that fact she was here, enjoying +it. At that instant, as though in evidence of this, he laid down a +burning cigarette on a mahogany stand he had had brought out to him. +Honora seized an ash tray, hurried to the porch, and picked up the +cigarette in the tips of her fingers. + +"Howard, I wish you would be more careful of Mrs. Forsythe's furniture," +she exclaimed. + +"Hello, Honora," he said, without looking up. "I see by the Newport +paper that old Maitland is back from Europe. Things are skyrocketing in +Wall Street." He glanced at the ash tray, which she had pushed towards +him. "What's the difference about the table? If the old lady makes a +row, I'll pay for it." + +"Some things are priceless," she replied; "you do not seem to realize +that." + +"Not this rubbish," said Howard. "Judging by the fuss she made over the +inventory, you'd think it might be worth something." + +"She has trusted us with it," said Honora. Her voice shook. + +He stared at her. + +"I never saw you look like that," he declared. + +"It's because you never look at me closely," she answered. + +He laughed, and resumed his reading. She stood awhile by the railing. +Across the way, beyond the wall, she heard Mr. Chamberlin's shrill voice +berating a gardener. + +"Howard," she asked presently, "why do you come to Newport at all?" + +"Why do I come to Newport?" he repeated. "I don't understand you." + +"Why do you come up here every week?" + +"Well," he said, "it isn't a bad trip on the boat, and I get a change +from New York; and see men I shouldn't probably see otherwise." He +paused and looked at her again, doubtfully. "Why do you ask such a +question?" + +"I wished to be sure," said Honora. + +"Sure of what?" + +"That the-arrangement suited you perfectly. You do not feel--the lack of +anything, do you?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"You wouldn't care to stay in Newport all the time?" + +"Not if I know myself," he replied. "I leave that part of it to you." + +"What part of it?" she demanded. + +"You ought to know. You do it pretty well," he laughed. "By the way, +Honora, I've got to have a conference with Mr. Wing to-day, and I may +not be home to lunch." + +"We're dining there to-night," she told him, in a listless voice. + +Upon Ethel Wing had descended the dominating characteristics of the +elder James, who, whatever the power he might wield in Wall Street, was +little more than a visitor in Newport. It was Ethel's house, from the +hour she had swept the Reel and Carter plans (which her father had +brought home) from the table and sent for Mr. Farwell. The forehanded +Reginald arrived with a sketch, and the result, as every one knows, +is one of the chief monuments to his reputation. So exquisitely +proportioned is its simple, two-storied marble front as seen through the +trees left standing on the old estate, that tourists, having beheld the +Chamberlin and other mansions, are apt to think this niggardly for a +palace. Two infolding wings, stretching towards the water, enclose +a court, and through the slender white pillars of the peristyle one +beholds in fancy the summer seas of Greece. + +Looking out on the court, and sustaining this classic illusion, is a +marble-paved dining room, with hangings of Pompeiian red, and frescoes +of nymphs and satyrs and piping shepherds, framed between fluted +pilasters, dimly discernible in the soft lights. + +In the midst of these surroundings, at the head of his table, sat the +great financier whose story but faintly concerns this chronicle; the +man who, every day that he had spent down town in New York in the past +thirty years, had eaten the same meal in the same little restaurant +under the street. This he told Honora, on his left, as though it were +not history. He preferred apple pie to the greatest of artistic triumphs +of his daughter's chef, and had it; a glorified apple pie, with frills +and furbelows, and whipped cream which he angrily swept to one side with +contempt. + +"That isn't apple pie," he said. "I'd like to take that Frenchman to +the little New England hilltown where I went to school and show him what +apple pie is." + +Such were the autobiographical snatches--by no means so crude as they +sound that reached her intelligence from time to time. Mr. Wing was too +subtle to be crude; and he had married a Playfair, a family noted for +good living. Honora did not know that he was fond of talking of that +apple pie and the New England school at public banquets; nor did Mr. +Wing suspect that the young woman whom he was apparently addressing, and +who seemed to be hanging on his words, was not present. + +It was not until she had put her napkin on the table that she awoke +with a start and gazed into his face and saw written there still another +history than the one he had been telling her. The face was hidden, +indeed, by the red beard. What she read was in the little eyes that +swept her with a look of possession: possession in a large sense, let +it be emphasized, that an exact justice be done Mr. James Wing,--she was +one of the many chattels over which his ownership extended; bought +and paid for with her husband. A hot resentment ran through her at the +thought. + +Mr. Cuthbert, who was many kinds of a barometer, sought her out later in +the courtyard. + +"Your husband's feeling tiptop, isn't he?" said he. + +"He's been locked up with old Wing all day. Something's in the wind, and +I'd give a good deal to know what it is." + +"I'm afraid I can't inform you," replied Honora. + +Mr. Cuthbert apologized. + +"Oh, I didn't mean to ask you far a tip," he declared, quite confused. +"I didn't suppose you knew. The old man is getting ready to make another +killing, that's all. You don't mind my telling you you look stunning +tonight, do you?" + +Honora smiled. + +"No, I don't mind," she said. + +Mr. Cuthbert appeared to be ransacking the corners of his brain for +words. + +"I was watching you to-night at the table while Mr. Wing was talking to +you. I don't believe you heard a thing he said." + +"Such astuteness," she answered, smiling at him, "astounds me." + +He laughed nervously. + +"You're different than you've ever been since I've known you," he went +on, undismayed. "I hope you won't think I'm making love to you. Not that +I shouldn't like to, but I've got sense enough to see it's no use." + +Her reply was unexpected. + +"What makes you think that?" she asked curiously. + +"Oh, I'm not a fool," said Mr. Cuthbert. "But if I were a poet, or that +fellow Dewing, I might be able to tell you what your eyes were like +to-night." + +"I'm glad you're not," said Honora. + +As they were going in, she turned for a lingering look at the sea. A +strong young moon rode serenely in the sky and struck a path of light +across the restless waters. Along this shimmering way the eyes of her +companion followed hers. + +"I can tell you what that colour is, at least. Do you remember the blue, +transparent substance that used to be on favours at children's parties?" +he asked. "There were caps inside of them, and crackers." + +"I believe you are a poet, after all," she said. + +A shadow fell across the flags. Honora did not move. + +"Hello, Chiltern," said Cuthbert. "I thought you were playing bridge..." + +"You haven't looked at me once to-night," he said, when Cuthbert had +gone in. + +She was silent. + +"Are you angry?" + +"Yes, a little," she answered. "Do you blame me?" + +The vibration of his voice in the moonlit court awoke an answering chord +in her; and a note of supplication from him touched her strangely. Logic +in his presence was a little difficult--there can be no doubt of that. + +"I must go in," she said unsteadily, "my carriage is waiting." + +But he stood in front of her. + +"I should have thought you would have gone," she said. + +"I wanted to see you again." + +"And now?" + +"I can't leave while you feel this way," he pleaded. "I can't abandon +what I have of you--what you will let me take. If I told you I would be +reasonable--" + +"I don't believe in miracles," she said, recovering a little; "at least +in modern ones. The question is, could you become reasonable?" + +"As a last resort," he replied, with a flash of humour and a touch of +hope. "If you would--commute my sentence." + +She passed him, and picking up her skirts, paused in the window. + +"I will give you one more chance," she said. + +This was the conversation that, by repeating itself, filled the interval +of her drive home. So oblivious was she to Howard's presence, that he +called her twice from her corner of the carriage after the vehicle had +stopped; and he halted her by seizing her arm as she was about to go up +the stairs. She followed him mechanically into the drawing-room. + +He closed the door behind them, and the other door into the darkened +dining room. He even took a precautionary glance out of the window of +the porch. And these movements, which ordinarily might have aroused her +curiosity, if not her alarm, she watched with a profound indifference. +He took a stand before the Japanese screen in front of the fireplace, +thrust his hands in his pockets, cleared his throat, and surveyed her +from her white shoulders to the gold-embroidered tips of her slippers. + +"I'm leaving for the West in the morning, Honora. If you've made any +arrangements for me on Sunday, you'll have to cancel them. I may be gone +two weeks, I may be gone a month. I don't know." + +"Yes," she said. + +"I'm going to tell you something those fellows in the smoking room +to-night did their best to screw out of me. If you say anything about +it, all's up between me and Wing. The fact that he picked me out to +engineer the thing, and that he's going to let me in if I push it +through, is a pretty good sign that he thinks something of my business +ability, eh?" + +"You'd better not tell me, Howard," she said. + +"You're too clever to let it out," he assured her; and added with a +chuckle: "If it goes through, order what you like. Rent a house on +Bellevue Avenue--any thing in reason." + +"What is it?" she asked, with a sudden premonition that the thing had a +vital significance for her. + +"It's the greatest scheme extant," he answered with elation. "I won't go +into details--you wouldn't understand'em. Mr. Wing and some others have +tried the thing before, nearer home, and it worked like a charm. Street +railways. We buy up the little lines for nothing, and get an interest in +the big ones, and sell the little lines for fifty times what they cost +us, and guarantee big dividends for the big lines." + +"It sounds to me," said Honora, slowly, "as though some one would get +cheated." + +"Some one get cheated!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Every one gets +cheated, as you call it, if they haven't enough sense to know what their +property's worth, and how to use it to the best advantage. It's a case," +he announced, "of the survival of the fittest. Which reminds me that if +I'm going to be fit to-morrow I'd better go to bed. Mr. Wing's to take +me to New York on his yacht, and you've got to have your wits about you +when you talk to the old man." + + + + +Volume 6. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. CLIO, OR THALIA? + +According to the ordinary and inaccurate method of measuring time, a +fortnight may have gone by since the event last narrated, and Honora had +tasted at last the joys of authorship. Her name was not to appear, to +be sure, on the cover of the Life and Letters of General Angus Chiltern; +nor indeed, so far, had she written so much as a chapter or a page of a +work intended to inspire young and old with the virtues of citizenship. +At present the biography was in the crucial constructive stage. Should +the letters be put in one volume, and the life in another? or should +the letters be inserted in the text of the life? or could not there be +a third and judicious mixture of both of these methods? Honora's counsel +on this and other problems was, it seems, invaluable. Her own table +was fairly littered with biographies more or less famous which had been +fetched from the library, and the method of each considered. + +Even as Mr. Garrick would never have been taken for an actor in his +coach and four, so our heroine did not in the least resemble George +Eliot, for instance, as she sat before her mirror at high noon with +Monsieur Cadron and her maid Mathilde in worshipful attendance. Some of +the ladies, indeed, who have left us those chatty memoirs of the days +before the guillotine, she might have been likened to. Monsieur Cadron +was an artist, and his branch of art was hair-dressing. It was by his +own wish he was here to-day, since he had conceived a new coiffure +especially adapted, he declared, to the type of Madame Spence. Behold +him declaring ecstatically that seldom in his experience had he had such +hairs to work with. + +"Avec une telle chevelure, l'on peut tout faire, madame. Etre simple, +c'est le comble de l'art. Ca vous donne," he added, with clasped hands +and a step backward, "ca vous donne tout a fait l'air d'une dame de +Nattier." + +Madame took the hand-glass, and did not deny that she was eblouissante. +If madame, suggested Monsieur Cadron, had but a little dress a la Marie +Antoinette? Madame had, cried madame's maid, running to fetch one +with little pink flowers and green leaves on an ecru ground. Could any +coiffure or any gown be more appropriate for an entertainment at which +Clio was to preside? + +It is obviously impossible that a masterpiece should be executed under +the rules laid down by convention. It would never be finished. Mr. +Chiltern was coming to lunch, and it was not the first time. On her +appearance in the doorway he halted abruptly in his pacing of the +drawing-room, and stared at her. + +"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," she said. + +"It was worth it," he said. And they entered the dining room. A subdued, +golden-green light came in through the tall glass doors that opened out +on the little garden which had been Mrs. Forsythe's pride. The scent +of roses was in the air, and a mass of them filled a silver bowl in the +middle of the table. On the dark walls were Mrs. Forsythe's precious +prints, and above the mantel a portrait of a thin, aristocratic +gentleman who resembled the poet Tennyson. In the noonday shadows of +a recess was a dark mahogany sideboard loaded with softly gleaming +silver--Honora's. Chiltern sat down facing her. He looked at Honora +over the roses,--and she looked at him. A sense of unreality that was, +paradoxically, stronger than reality itself came over her, a sense of +fitness, of harmony. And for the moment an imagination, ever straining +at its leash, was allowed to soar. It was Chiltern who broke the +silence. + +"What a wonderful bowl!" he said. + +"It has been in my father's family a great many years. He was very fond +of it," she answered, and with a sudden, impulsive movement she reached +over and set the bowl aside. + +"That's better," he declared, "much as I admire the bowl, and the +roses." + +She coloured faintly, and smiled. The feast of reason that we are +impatiently awaiting is deferred. It were best to attempt to record the +intangible things; the golden-green light, the perfumes, and the faint +musical laughter which we can hear if we listen. Thalia's laughter, +surely, not Clio's. Thalia, enamoured with such a theme, has taken the +stage herself--and as Vesta, goddess of hearths. It was Vesta whom they +felt to be presiding. They lingered, therefore, over the coffee, and +Chiltern lighted a cigar. He did not smoke cigarettes. + +"I've lived long enough," he said, "to know that I have never lived at +all. There is only one thing in life worth having." + +"What is it?" asked Honora. + +"This," he answered, with a gesture; "when it is permanent." + +She smiled. + +"And how is one to know whether it would be--permanent?" + +"Through experience and failure," he answered quickly, "we learn to +distinguish the reality when it comes. It is unmistakable." + +"Suppose it comes too late?" she said, forgetting the ancient verse +inscribed in her youthful diary: "Those who walk on ice will slide +against their wills." + +"To admit that is to be a coward," he declared. + +"Such a philosophy may be fitting for a man," she replied, "but for a +woman--" + +"We are no longer in the dark ages," he interrupted. "Every one, man +or woman, has the right to happiness. There is no reason why we should +suffer all our lives for a mistake." + +"A mistake!" she echoed. + +"Certainly," he said. "It is all a matter of luck, or fate, or whatever +you choose to call it. Do you suppose, if I could have found fifteen +years ago the woman to have made me happy, I should have spent so much +time in seeking distraction?" + +"Perhaps you could not have been capable of appreciating her--fifteen +years ago," suggested Honora. And, lest he might misconstrue her remark, +she avoided his eyes. + +"Perhaps," he admitted. "But suppose I have found her now, when I know +the value of things." + +"Suppose you should find her now--within a reasonable time. What would +you do?" + +"Marry her," he exclaimed promptly. "Marry her and take her to Grenoble, +and live the life my father lived before me." + +She did not reply, but rose, and he followed her to the shaded corner of +the porch where they usually sat. The bundle of yellow-stained envelopes +he had brought were lying on the table, and Honora picked them up +mechanically. + +"I have been thinking," she said as she removed the elastics, "that it +is a mistake to begin a biography by the enumeration of one's ancestors. +Readers become frightfully bored before they get through the first +chapter." + +"I'm beginning to believe," he laughed, "that you will have to write +this one alone. All the ideas I have got so far have been yours. Why +shouldn't you write it, and I arrange the material, and talk about it! +That appears to be all I'm good for." + +If she allowed her mind to dwell on the vista he thus presented, she did +not betray herself. + +"Another thing," she said, "it should be written like fiction." + +"Like fiction?" + +"Fact should be written like fiction, and fiction like fact. It's +difficult to express what I mean. But this life of your father deserves +to be widely known, and it should be entertainingly done, like Lockhart, +or Parton's works--" + +An envelope fell to the floor, spilling its contents. Among them were +several photographs. + +"Oh," she exclaimed, "how beautiful! What place is this?" + +"I hadn't gone over these letters," he answered. "I only got them +yesterday from Cecil Grainger. These are some pictures of Grenoble which +must leave been taken shortly before my father died." + +She gazed in silence at the old house half hidden by great maples and +beeches, their weighted branches sweeping the ground. The building was +of wood, painted white, and through an archway of verdure one saw the +generous doorway with its circular steps, with its fan-light above, and +its windows at the side. Other quaint windows, some of them of triple +width, suggested an interior of mystery and interest. + +"My great-great-grandfather, Alexander Chiltern, built it," he said, "on +land granted to him before the Revolution. Of course the house has been +added to since then, but the simplicity of the original has always been +kept. My father put on the conservatory, for instance," and Chiltern +pointed to a portion at the end of one of the long low wings. "He +got the idea from the orangery of a Georgian house in England, and an +English architect designed it." + +Honora took up the other photographs. One of them, over which she +lingered, was of a charming, old-fashioned garden spattered with +sunlight, and shut out from the world by a high brick wall. Behind the +wall, again, were the dense masses of the trees, and at the end of a +path between nodding foxgloves and Canterbury bells, in a curved recess, +a stone seat. + +She turned her face. His was at her shoulder. + +"How could you ever have left it?" she asked reproachfully. + +She voiced his own regrets, which the crowding memories had awakened. + +"I don't know," he answered, not without emotion. "I have often asked +myself that question." He crossed over to the railing of the porch, +swung about, and looked at her. Her eyes were still on the picture. "I +can imagine you in that garden," he said. + +Did the garden cast the spell by which she saw herself on the seat? or +was it Chiltern's voice? She would indeed love and cherish it. And was +it true that she belonged there, securely infolded within those peaceful +walls? How marvellously well was Thalia playing her comedy! Which was +the real, and which the false? What of true value, what of peace and +security was contained in her present existence? She had missed the +meaning of things, and suddenly it was held up before her, in a garden. + +A later hour found them in Honora's runabout wandering northward along +quiet country roads on the eastern side of the island. Chiltern, who was +driving, seemed to take no thought of their direction, until at +last, with an exclamation, he stopped the horse; and Honora beheld an +abandoned mansion of a bygone age sheltered by ancient trees, with wide +lands beside it sloping to the water. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"Beaulieu," he replied. "It was built in the seventeenth century, I +believe, and must have been a fascinating place in colonial days." He +drove in between the fences and tied the horse, and came around by the +side of the runabout. "Won't you get out and look at it?" + +She hesitated, and their eyes met as he held out his hand, but she +avoided it and leaped quickly to the ground neither spoke as they walked +around the deserted house and gazed at the quaint facade, broken by a +crumbling, shaded balcony let in above the entrance door. No sound broke +the stillness of the summer's day--a pregnant stillness. The air +was heavy with perfumes, and the leaves formed a tracery against the +marvellous blue of the sky. Mystery brooded in the place. Here, in this +remote paradise now in ruins, people had dwelt and loved. Thought ended +there; and feeling, which is unformed thought, began. Again she glanced +at him, and again their eyes met, and hers faltered. They turned, as +with one consent, down the path toward the distant water. Paradise +overgrown! Could it be reconstructed, redeemed? + +In former days the ground they trod had been a pleasance the width of +the house, bordered, doubtless, by the forest. Trees grew out of the +flower beds now, and underbrush choked the paths. The box itself, that +once primly lined the alleys, was gnarled and shapeless. Labyrinth +had replaced order, nature had reaped her vengeance. At length, in +the deepening shade, they came, at what had been the edge of the old +terrace, to the daintiest of summer-houses, crumbling too, the shutters +off their hinges, the floor-boards loose. Past and gone were the idyls +of which it had been the stage. + +They turned to the left, through tangled box that wound hither and +thither, until they stopped at a stone wall bordering a tree-arched +lane. At the bottom of the lane was a glimpse of blue water. + +Honora sat down on the wall with her back to a great trunk. Chiltern, +with a hand on the stones, leaped over lightly, and stood for some +moments in the lane, his feet a little apart and firmly planted, his +hands behind his back. + +What had Thalia been about to allow the message of that morning to creep +into her comedy? a message announcing the coming of an intruder not in +the play, in the person of a husband bearing gifts. What right had he, +in the eternal essence of things, to return? He was out of all time and +place. Such had been her feeling when she had first read the hastily +written letter, but even when she had burned it it had risen again from +the ashes. Anything but that! In trying not to think of it, she had +picked up the newspaper, learned of a railroad accident,--and shuddered. +Anything but his return! Her marriage was a sin,--there could be no +sacrament in it. She would flee first, and abandon all rather than +submit to it. + +Chiltern's step aroused her now. He came back to the wall where she was +sitting, and faced her. + +"You are sad," he said. + +She shook her head at him, slowly, and tried to smile. + +"What has happened?" he demanded rudely. "I can't bear to see you sad." + +"I am going away," she said. The decision had suddenly come to her. Why +had she not seen before that it was inevitable? + +He seized her wrist as it lay on the wall, and she winced from the +sudden pain of his grip. + +"Honora, I love you," he said, "I must have you--I will have you. I will +make you happy. I promise it on my soul. I can't, I won't live without +you." + +She did not listen to his words--she could not have repeated them +afterwards. The very tone of his voice was changed by passion; creation +spoke through him, and she heard and thrilled and swayed and soared, +forgetting heaven and earth and hell as he seized her in his arms and +covered her face with kisses. Thus Eric the Red might have wooed. And +by what grace she spoke the word that delivered her she never knew. As +suddenly as he had seized her he released her, and she stood before him +with flaming cheeks and painful breath. + +"I love you," he said, "I love you. I have searched the world for you +and found you, and by all the laws of God you are mine." + +And love was written in her eyes. He had but to read it there, though +her lips might deny it. This was the man of all men she would have +chosen, and she was his by right of conquest. Yet she held up her hand +with a gesture of entreaty. + +"No, Hugh--it cannot be," she said. + +"Cannot!" he cried. "I will take you. You love me." + +"I am married." + +"Married! Do you mean that you would let that man stand between you and +happiness?" + +"What do you mean?" she asked, in a frightened voice. + +"Just what I say," he cried, with incredible vehemence. "Leave +him--divorce him. You cannot live with him. He isn't worthy to touch +your hand." + +The idea planted itself with the force of a barbed arrow from a +strong-bow. Struggle as she might, she could not henceforth extract it. + +"Oh!" she cried. + +He took her arm, gently, and forced her to sit down on the wall. Such +was the completeness of his mastery that she did not resist. He sat down +beside her. + +"Listen, Honora," he said, and tried to speak calmly, though his voice +was still vibrant; "let us look the situation in the face. As I told +you once, the days of useless martyrdom are past. The world is more +enlightened today, and recognizes an individual right to happiness." + +"To happiness," she repeated after him, like a child. He forgot his +words as he looked into her eyes: they were lighted as with all the +candles of heaven in his honour. + +"Listen," he said hoarsely, and his fingers tightened on her arm. + +The current running through her from him made her his instrument. Did he +say the sky was black, she would have exclaimed at the discovery. + +"Yes--I am listening." + +"Honora!" + +"Hugh," she answered, and blinded him. He was possessed by the tragic +fear that she was acting a dream; presently she would awake--and shatter +the universe. His dominance was too complete. + +"I love you--I respect you. You are making it very hard for me. Please +try to understand what I am saying," he cried almost fiercely. "This +thing, this miracle, has happened in spite of us. Henceforth you belong +to me--do you hear?" + +Once more the candles flared up. + +"We cannot drift. We must decide now upon some definite action. Our +lives are our own, to make as we choose. You said you were going away. +And you meant--alone?" + +The eyes were wide, now, with fright. + +"Oh, I must--I must," she said. "Don't--don't talk about it." And she +put forth a hand over his. + +"I will talk about it," he declared, trembling. "I have thought it all +out," and this time it was her fingers that tightened. "You are going +away. And presently--when you are free--I will come to you." + +For a moment the current stopped. + +"No, no!" she cried, almost in terror. The first fatalist must have been +a woman, and the vision of rent prison bars drove her mad. "No, we could +never be happy." + +"We can--we will be happy," he said, with a conviction that was +unshaken. "Do you hear me? I will not debase what I have to say by +resorting to comparisons. But--others I know have been happy are happy, +though their happiness cannot be spoken of with ours. Listen. You will +go away--for a little while--and afterwards we shall be together for all +time. Nothing shall separate us: We never have known life, either of us, +until now. I, missing you, have run after the false gods. And you--I say +it with truth-needed me. We will go to live at Grenoble, as my father +and mother lived. We will take up their duties there. And if it seems +possible, I will go into public life. When I return, I shall find +you--waiting for me--in the garden." + +So real had the mirage become, that Honora did not answer. The desert +and its journey fell away. Could such a thing, after all, be possible? +Did fate deal twice to those whom she had made novices? The mirage, +indeed, suddenly became reality--a mirage only because she had +proclaimed it such. She had beheld in it, as he spoke, a Grenoble which +was paradise regained. And why should paradise regained be a paradox? +Why paradise regained? Paradise gained. She had never known it, until +he had flung wide the gates. She had sought for it, and never found it +until now, and her senses doubted it. It was a paradise of love, to +be sure; but one, too, of duty. Duty made it real. Work was there, and +fulfilment of the purpose of life itself. And if his days hitherto had +been useless, hers had in truth been barren. + +It was only of late, after a life-long groping, that she had discovered +their barrenness. The right to happiness! Could she begin anew, and +found it upon a rock? And was he the rock? + +The question startled her, and she drew away from him first her hand, +and then she turned her body, staring at him with widened eyes. He +did not resist the movement; nor could he, being male, divine what was +passing within her, though he watched her anxiously. She had no thought +of the first days,--but afterwards. For at such times it is the woman +who scans the veil of the future. How long would that beacon burn which +flamed now in such prodigal waste? Would not the very springs of it dry +up? She looked at him, and she saw the Viking. But the Viking had +fled from the world, and they--they would be going into it. Could love +prevail against its dangers and pitfalls and--duties? Love was the word +that rang out, as one calling through the garden, and her thoughts ran +molten. Let love overflow--she gloried in the waste! And let the lean +years come,--she defied them to-day. + +"Oh, Hugh!" she faltered. + +"My dearest!" he cried, and would have seized her in his arms again +but for a look of supplication. That he had in him this innate and +unsuspected chivalry filled her with an exquisite sweetness. + +"You will--protect me?" she asked. + +"With my life and with my honour," he answered. "Honora, there will be +no happiness like ours." + +"I wish I knew," she sighed: and then, her look returning from the veil, +rested on him with a tenderness that was inexpressible. "I--I don't +care, Hugh. I trust you." + +The sun was setting. Slowly they went back together through the paths +of the tangled garden, which had doubtless seen many dramas, and the +courses changed of many lives: overgrown and outworn now, yet love was +loth to leave it. Honora paused on the lawn before the house, and looked +back at him over her shoulder. + +"How happy we could have been here, in those days," she sighed. + +"We will be happier there," he said. + +Honora loved. Many times in her life had she believed herself to +have had this sensation, and yet had known nothing of these aches and +ecstasies! Her mortal body, unattended, went out to dinner that evening. +Never, it is said, was her success more pronounced. The charm of +Randolph Leffingwell, which had fascinated the nobility of three +kingdoms, had descended on her, and hostesses had discovered that she +possessed the magic touch necessary to make a dinner complete. Her +quality, as we know, was not wit: it was something as old as the world, +as new as modern psychology. It was, in short, the power to stimulate. +She infused a sense of well-being; and ordinary people, in her presence, +surprised themselves by saying clever things. + +Lord Ayllington, a lean, hard-riding gentleman, who was supposed to be +on the verge of contracting an alliance with the eldest of the Grenfell +girls, regretted that Mrs. Spence was neither unmarried nor an heiress. + +"You know," he said to Cecil Grainger, who happened to be gracing his +wife's dinner-party, "she's the sort of woman for whom a man might +consent to live in Venice." + +"And she's the sort of woman," replied, "a man couldn't get to go to +Venice." + +Lord Ayllington's sigh was a proof of an intimate knowledge of the +world. + +"I suppose not," he said. "It's always so. And there are few American +women who would throw everything overboard for a grand passion." + +"You ought to see her on the beach," Mr. Grainger suggested. + +"I intend to," said Ayllington. "By the way, not a few of your American +women get divorced, and keep their cake and eat it, too. It's a bit +difficult, here at Newport, for a stranger, you know." + +"I'm willing to bet," declared Mr. Grainger, "that it doesn't pay. When +you're divorced and married again you've got to keep up appearances--the +first time you don't. Some of these people are working pretty hard." + +Whereupon, for the Englishman's enlightenment, he recounted a little +gossip. + +This, of course, was in the smoking room. In the drawing-room, Mrs. +Grainger's cousin did not escape, and the biography was the subject of +laughter. + +"You see something of him, I hear," remarked Mrs. Playfair, a lady the +deficiency of whose neck was supplied by jewels, and whose conversation +sounded like liquid coming out of an inverted bottle. "Is he really +serious about the biography?" + +"You'll have to ask Mr. Grainger," replied Honora. + +"Hugh ought to marry," Mrs. Grenfell observed. + +"Why did he come back?" inquired another who had just returned from a +prolonged residence abroad. "Was there a woman in the case?" + +"Put it in the plural, and you'll be nearer right," laughed Mrs. +Grenfell, and added to Honora, "You'd best take care, my dear, he's +dangerous." + +Honora seemed to be looking down on them from a great height, and +to Reginald Farwell alone is due the discovery of this altitude; his +reputation for astuteness, after that evening, was secure. He had sat +next her, and had merely put two and two together--an operation that is +probably at the root of most prophecies. More than once that summer Mr. +Farwell had taken sketches down Honora's lane, for she was on what was +known as his list of advisers: a sheepfold of ewes, some one had called +it, and he was always piqued when one of them went astray. In addition +to this, intuition told him that he had taken the name of a deity in +vain--and that deity was Chiltern. These reflections resulted in another +after-dinner conversation to which we are not supposed to listen. + +He found Jerry Shorter in a receptive mood, and drew him into Cecil +Grainger's study, where this latter gentleman, when awake, carried on +his lifework of keeping a record of prize winners. + +"I believe there is something between Mrs. Spence and Hugh Chiltern, +after all, Jerry," he said. + +"By jinks, you don't say so!" exclaimed Mr. Shorter, who had a profound +respect for his friend's diagnoses in these matters. "She was dazzling +to-night, and her eyes were like stars. I passed her in the hall just +now, and I might as well have been in Halifax." + +"She fairly withered me when I made a little fun of Chiltern," declared +Farwell. + +"I tell you what it is, Reggie," remarked Mr. Shorter, with more +frankness than tact, "you could talk architecture with 'em from now to +Christmas, and nothing'd happen, but it would take an iceberg to write a +book with Hugh and see him alone six days out of seven. Chiltern knocks +women into a cocked hat. I've seen 'em stark raving crazy. Why, there +was that Mrs. Slicer six or seven years ago--you remember--that Cecil +Grainger had such a deuce of a time with. And there was Mrs. Dutton--I +was a committee to see her, when the old General was alive,--to say +nothing about a good many women you and I know." + +Mr. Farwell nodded. + +"I'm confoundedly sorry if it's so," Mr. Shorter continued, with +sincerity. "She has a brilliant future ahead of her. She's got good +blood in her, she's stunning to look at, and she's made her own way +in spite of that Billycock of a husband who talks like the original +Rothschild. By the bye, Wing is using him for a good thing. He's sent +him out West to pull that street railway chestnut out of the fire. +I'm not particularly squeamish, Reggie, though I try to play the game +straight myself--the way my father played it. But by the lord Harry, I +can't see the difference between Dick Turpin and Wing and Trixy Brent. +It's hold and deliver with those fellows. But if the police get anybody, +their get Spence." + +"The police never get anybody," said Farwell, pessimistically; for the +change of topic bored him. + +"No, I suppose they don't," answered Mr. Shorter, cheerfully finishing +his chartreuse, and fixing his eye on one of the coloured lithographs of +lean horses on Cecil Grainger's wall. "I'd talk to Hugh, if I wasn't as +much afraid of him as of Jim Jeffries. I don't want to see him ruin her +career." + +"Why should an affair with him ruin it?" asked Farwell, unexpectedly. +"There was Constance Witherspoon. I understand that went pretty far." + +"My dear boy," said Mr. Shorter, "it's the women. Bessie Grainger here, +for instance--she'd go right up in the air. And the women had--well, a +childhood-interest in Constance. Self-preservation is the first law--of +women." + +"They say Hugh has changed--that he wants to settle down," said Farwell. + +"If you'd ever gone to church, Reggie," said Mr. Shorter, "you'd know +something about the limitations of the leopard." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. "LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS" + +That night was Honora's soul played upon by the unknown musician of the +sleepless hours. Now a mad, ecstatic chorus dinned in her ears and set +her blood coursing; and again despair seized her with a dirge. Periods +of semiconsciousness only came to her, and from one of these she was +suddenly startled into wakefulness by her own words. "I have the right +to make of my life what I can." But when she beheld the road of terrors +that stretched between her and the shining places, it seemed as though +she would never have the courage to fare forth along its way. To look +back was to survey a prospect even more dreadful. + +The incidents of her life ranged by in procession. Not in natural +sequence, but a group here and a group there. And it was given her, for +the first time, to see many things clearly. But now she loved. God alone +knew what she felt for this man, and when she thought of him the very +perils of her path were dwarfed. On returning home that night she +had given her maid her cloak, and had stood for a long time +immobile,--gazing at her image in the pierglass. + +"Madame est belle comme l'Imperatrice d'Autriche!" said the maid at +length. + +"Am I really beautiful, Mathilde?" + +Mathilde raised her eyes and hands to heaven in a gesture that admitted +no doubt. Mathilde, moreover, could read a certain kind of history if +the print were large enough. + +Honora looked in the glass again. Yes, she was beautiful. He had found +her so, he had told her so. And here was the testimony of her own +eyes. The bloom on the nectarines that came every morning from Mr. +Chamberlin's greenhouse could not compare with the colour of her cheeks; +her hair was like the dusk; her eyes like the blue pools among the +rocks, and touched now by the sun; her neck and arms of the whiteness of +sea-foam. It was meet that she should be thus for him and for the love +he brought her. + +She turned suddenly to the maid. + +"Do you love me, Mathilde?" she asked. + +Mathilde was not surprised. She was, on the contrary, profoundly +touched. + +"How can madame ask?" she cried impulsively, and seized Honora's hand. +How was it possible to be near madame, and not love her? + +"And would you go--anywhere with me?" + +The scene came back to her in the night watches. For the little maid had +wept and vowed eternal fidelity. + +It was not--until the first faint herald of the morning that Honora +could bring herself to pronounce the fateful thing that stood +between her and happiness, that threatened to mar the perfection of a +heaven-born love--Divorce! And thus, having named it resolutely several +times, the demon of salvation began gradually to assume a kindly aspect +that at times became almost benign. In fact, this one was not a demon at +all, but a liberator: the demon, she perceived, stalked behind him, and +his name was Notoriety. It was he who would flay her for coquetting with +the liberator. + +What if she were flayed? Once married to Chiltern, once embarked upon +that life of usefulness, once firmly established on ground of her own +tilling, and she was immune. And this led her to a consideration of +those she knew who had been flayed. They were not few, and a surfeit +of publicity is a sufficient reason for not enumerating them here. And +during this process of exorcism Notoriety became a bogey, too: he had +been powerless to hurt them. It must be true what Chiltern had said +that the world was changing. The tragic and the ridiculous here joining +hands, she remembered that Reggie Farwell had told her that he had +recently made a trip to western New York to inspect a house he had built +for a "remarried" couple who were not wholly unknown. The dove-cote, he +had called it. The man, in his former marriage, had been renowned all +up and down tidewater as a rake and a brute, and now it was an exception +when he did not have at least one baby on his knee. And he knew, +according to Mr. Farwell, more about infant diet than the whole staff of +a maternity hospital. + +At length, as she stared into the darkness, dissolution came upon it. +The sills of her windows outlined themselves, and a blurred foliage +was sketched into the frame. With a problem but half solved the day had +surprised her. She marvelled to see that it grew apace, and presently +arose to look out upon a stillness like that of eternity: in the grey +light the very leaves seemed to be holding their breath in expectancy +of the thing that was to come. Presently the drooping roses raised their +heads, from pearl to silver grew the light, and comparison ended. +The reds were aflame, the greens resplendent, the lawn sewn with the +diamonds of the dew. + +A little travelling table was beside the window, and Honora took her pen +and wrote. + + "My dearest, above all created things I love you. Morning has come, + and it seems to me that I have travelled far since last I saw you. + I have come to a new place, which is neither hell nor heaven, and in + the mystery of it you--you alone are real. It is to your strength + that I cling, and I know that you will not fail me. + + "Since I saw you, Hugh, I have been through the Valley of the + Shadow. I have thought of many things. One truth alone is clear-- + that I love you transcendently.. You have touched and awakened me + into life. I walk in a world unknown. + + "There is the glory of martyrdom in this message I send you now. + You must not come to me again until I send for you. I cannot, I + will not trust myself or you. I will keep this love which has come + to me undefiled. It has brought with it to me a new spirit, a + spirit with a scorn for things base and mean. Though it were my + last chance in life, I would not see you if you came. If I thought + you would not understand what I feel, I could not love you as I do. + + "I will write to you again, when I see my way more clearly. I told + you in the garden before you spoke that I was going away. Do not + seek to know my plans. For the sake of the years to come, obey me. + + "HONORA." + +She reread the letter, and sealed it. A new and different exaltation +had come to her--begotten, perhaps, in the act of writing. A new courage +filled her, and now she contemplated the ordeal with a tranquillity that +surprised her. The disorder and chaos of the night were passed, and she +welcomed the coming day, and those that were to follow it. As though the +fates were inclined to humour her impatience, there was a telegram +on her breakfast tray, dated at New York, and informing her that her +husband would be in Newport about the middle of the afternoon. His +western trip was finished a day earlier than he expected. Honora rang +her bell. + +"Mathilde, I am going away." + +"Oui, madame." + +"And I should like you to go with me." + +"Oui, madame." + +"It is only fair that you should understand, Mathilde. I am going away +alone. I am not--coming back." + +The maid's eyes filled with sudden tears. + +"Oh, madame," she cried, in a burst of loyalty, "if madame will permit +me to stay with her!" + +Honora was troubled, but her strange calmness did not forsake her. The +morning was spent in packing, which was a simple matter. She took only +such things as she needed, and left her dinner-gowns hanging in the +closets. A few precious books of her own she chose, but the jewellery +her husband had given her was put in boxes and laid upon the +dressing-table. In one of these boxes was her wedding ring. When +luncheon was over, an astonished and perturbed butler packed the +Leffingwell silver and sent it off to storage. + +There had been but one interruption in Honora's labours. A note had +arrived--from him--a note and a box. He would obey her! She had known he +would understand, and respect her the more. What would their love have +been, without that respect? She shuddered to think. And he sent her this +ring, as a token of that love, as undying as the fire in its stones. +Would she wear it, that in her absence she might think of him? Honora +kissed it and slipped it on her finger, where it sparkled. The letter +was beneath her gown, though she knew it by heart. Chiltern had gone at +last: he could not, he said, remain in Newport and not see her. + +At midday she made but the pretence of a meal. It was not until +afterwards, in wandering through the lower rooms of this house, become +so dear to her, that agitation seized her, and a desire to weep. What +was she leaving so precipitately? and whither going? The world +indeed was wide, and these rooms had been her home. The day had grown +blue-grey, and in the dining room the gentle face seemed to look down +upon her compassionately from the portrait. The scent of the roses +overpowered her. As she listened, no sound brake the quiet of the place. + +Would Howard never come? The train was in--had been in ten minutes. +Hark, the sound of wheels! Her heart beating wildly, she ran to the +windows of the drawing-room and peered through the lilacs. Yes, there he +was, ascending the steps. + +"Mrs. Spence is out, I suppose," she heard him say to the butler, who +followed with his bag. + +"No, sir, she's is the drawing-room." + +The sight of him, with his air of satisfaction and importance, proved an +unexpected tonic to her strength. It was as though he had brought into +the room, marshalled behind him, all the horrors of her marriage, and +she marvelled and shuddered anew at the thought of the years of that +sufferance. + +"Well, I'm back," he said, "and we've made a great killing, as I wrote +you. They were easier than I expected." + +He came forward for the usual perfunctory kiss, but she recoiled, and it +was then that his eye seemed to grasp the significance of her travelling +suit and veil, and he glanced at her face. + +"What's up? Where are you going?" he demanded. "Has anything happened?" + +"Everything," she said, and it was then, suddenly, that she felt the +store of her resolution begin to ebb, and she trembled. "Howard, I am +going away." + +He stopped short, and thrust his hands into the pockets of his checked +trousers. + +"Going away," he repeated. "Where?" + +"I don't know," said Honora; "I'm going away." + +As though to cap the climax of tragedy, he smiled as he produced his +cigarette case. And she was swept, as it were, by a scarlet flame that +deprived her for the moment of speech. + +"Well," he said complacently, "there's no accounting for women. A +case of nerves--eh, Honora? Been hitting the pace a little too hard, +I guess." He lighted a match, blissfully unaware of the quality of her +look. "All of us have to get toned up once in a while. I need it myself. +I've had to drink a case of Scotch whiskey out West to get this deal +through. Now what's the name of that new boat with everything on her +from a cafe to a Stock Exchange? A German name." + +"I don't know," said Honora. She had answered automatically. + +To the imminent peril of one of the frailest of Mrs. Forsythe's chairs, +he sat down on it, placed his hands on his knees, flung back his head, +and blew the smoke towards the ceiling. Still she stared at him, as in a +state of semi-hypnosis. + +"Instead of going off to one of those thousand-dollar-a-minute doctors, +let me prescribe for you," he said. "I've handled some nervous men in my +time, and I guess nervous women aren't much different. You've had these +little attacks before, and they blow over--don't they? Wing owes me a +vacation. If I do say it myself, there are not five men in New York who +would have pulled off this deal for him. Now the proposition I was going +to make to you is this: that we get cosey in a cabin de luxe on that +German boat, hire an automobile on the other side, and do up Europe. +It's a sort of a handicap never to have been over there." + +"Oh, you're making it very hard for me, Howard," she cried. "I +might have known that you couldn't understand, that you never could +understand--why I am going away. I've lived with you all this time, and +you do not know me any better than you know--the scrub-woman. I'm going +away from you--forever." + +In spite of herself, she ended with an uncontrollable sob. + +"Forever!" he repeated, but he continued to smoke and to look at her +without any evidences of emotion, very much as though he had received +an ultimatum in a business transaction. And then there crept into his +expression something of a complacent pity that braced her to continue. +"Why?" he asked. + +"Because--because I don't love you. Because you don't love me. You don't +know what love is--you never will." + +"But we're married," he said. "We get along all right." + +"Oh, can't you see that that makes it all the worse!" she cried. "I can +stand it no longer. I can't live with you--I won't live with you. I'm of +no use to you--you're sufficient unto yourself. It was all a frightful +mistake. I brought nothing into your life, and I take nothing out of +it. We are strangers--we have always been so. I am not even your +housekeeper. Your whole interest in life is in your business, and you +come home to read the newspapers and to sleep! Home! The very word is a +mockery. If you had to choose between me and your business you wouldn't +hesitate an instant. And I--I have been starved. It isn't your fault, +perhaps, that you don't understand that a woman needs something more +than dinner-gowns and jewels and--and trips abroad. Her only possible +compensation for living with a man is love. Love--and you haven't the +faintest conception of it. It isn't your fault, perhaps. It's my fault +for marrying you. I didn't know any better." + +She paused with her breast heaving. He rose and walked over to the +fireplace and flicked his ashes into it before he spoke. His calmness +maddened her. + +"Why didn't you say something about this before?" he asked. + +"Because I didn't know it--I didn't realize it--until now." + +"When you married me," he went on, "you had an idea that you were going +to live in a house on Fifth Avenue with a ballroom, didn't you?" + +"Yes," said Honora. "I do not say I am not to blame. I was a fool. My +standards were false. In spite of the fact that my aunt and uncle are +the most unworldly people that ever lived--perhaps because of it--I +knew nothing of the values of life. I have but one thing to say in my +defence. I thought I loved you, and that you could give me--what every +woman needs." + +"You were never satisfied from the first," he retorted. "You wanted +money and position--a mania with American women. I've made a success +that few men of my age can duplicate. And even now you are not satisfied +when I come back to tell you that I have money enough to snap my fingers +at half these people you know." + +"How," asked Honora, "how did you make it?" + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +She turned away from him with a gesture of weariness. + +"No, you wouldn't understand that, either, Howard." + +It was not until then that he showed feeling. + +"Somebody has been talking to you about this deal. I'm not surprised. A +lot of these people are angry because we didn't let them in. What have +they been saying?" he demanded. + +Her eyes flashed. + +"Nobody has spoken to me on the subject," she said. "I only know what I +have read, and what you have told me. In the first place, you deceived +the stockholders of these railways into believing their property was +worthless, and in the second place, you intend to sell it to the public +for much more than it is worth." + +At first he stared at her in surprise. Then he laughed. + +"By George, you'd make something of a financier yourself, Honora," he +exclaimed. And seeing that she did not answer, continued: "Well, you've +got it about right, only it's easier said than done. It takes brains. +That's what business is--a survival of the fittest. If you don't do the +other man, he'll do you." He opened the cigarette case once more. "And +now," he said, "let me give you a little piece of advice. It's a good +motto for a woman not to meddle with what doesn't concern her. It isn't +her business to make the money, but to spend it; and she can usually do +that to the queen's taste." + +"A high ideal?" she exclaimed. + +"You ought to have some notion of where that ideal came from," he +retorted. "You were all for getting rich, in order to compete with these +people. Now you've got what you want--" + +"And I am going to throw it away. That is like a woman, isn't it?" + +He glanced at her, and then at his watch. + +"See here, Honora, I ought to go over to Mr. Wing's. I wired him I'd be +there at four-thirty." + +"Don't let me keep you," she replied. + +"By gad, you are pale!" he said. "What's got into the women these days? +They never used to have these confounded nerves. Well, if you are bent +on it, I suppose there's no use trying to stop you. Go off somewhere and +take a rest, and when you come back you'll see things differently." + +She held out her hand. + +"Good-by, Howard," she said. "I wanted you to know that I didn't--bear +you any ill-will--that I blame myself as much as you. More, if anything. +I hope you will be happy--I know you will. But I must ask you to believe +me when I say that I shan't come back. I--I am leaving all the valuable +things you gave me. You will find them on my dressing-table. And +I wanted to tell you that my uncle sent me a little legacy from my +father-an unexpected one--that makes me independent." + +He did not take her hand, but was staring at her now, incredulously. + +"You mean you are actually going?" he exclaimed. + +"Yes." + +"But--what shall I say to Mr. Wing? What will he think?" + +Despite the ache in her heart, she smiled. + +"Does it make any difference what Mr. Wing thinks?" she asked gently. +"Need he know? Isn't this a matter which concerns us alone? I shall +go off, and after a certain time people will understand that I am not +coming back." + +"But--have you considered that it may interfere with my prospects?" he +asked. + +"Why should it? You are invaluable to Mr. Wing. He can't afford to +dispense with your services just because you will be divorced. That +would be ridiculous. Some of his own associates are divorced." + +"Divorced!" he cried, and she saw that he had grown pasty white. "On +what grounds? Have you been--" + +He did not finish. + +"No," she said, "you need fear no scandal. There will be nothing in any +way harmful to your--prospects." + +"What can I do?" he said, though more to himself than to her. Her quick +ear detected in his voice a note of relief. And yet, he struck in her, +standing helplessly smoking in the middle of the floor, chords of pity. + +"You can do nothing, Howard," she said. "If you lived with me from now +to the millennium you couldn't make me love you, nor could you love +me--the way I must be loved. Try to realize it. The wrench is what you +dread. After it is over you will be much more contented, much happier, +than you have been with me. Believe me." + +His next remark astonished her. + +"What's the use of being so damned precipitate?" he demanded. + +"Precipitate!" + +"Because I can stand it no longer. I should go mad," she answered. + +He took a turn up and down the room, stopped suddenly, and stared at +her with eyes that had grown smaller. Suspicion is slow to seize the +complacent. Was it possible that he had been supplanted? + +Honora, with an instinct of what was coming, held up her head. Had he +been angry, had he been a man, how much humiliation he would have spared +her! + +"So you're in love!" he said. "I might have known that something was at +the bottom of this." + +She took account of and quivered at the many meanings behind his +speech--meanings which he was too cowardly to voice in words. + +"Yes," she answered, "I am in love--in love as I never hoped to be--as I +did not think it possible to be. My love is such that I would go through +hell fire for the sake of it. I do not expect you to believe me when I +tell you that such is not the reason why I am leaving you. If you had +loved me with the least spark of passion, if I thought I were in the +least bit needful to you as a woman and as a soul, as a helper and a +confidante, instead of a mere puppet to advertise your prosperity, this +would not--could not--have happened. I love a man who would give up the +world for me to-morrow. I have but one life to live, and I am going to +find happiness if I can." + +She paused, afire with an eloquence that had come unsought. But her +husband only stared at her. She was transformed beyond his recognition. +Surely he had not married this woman! And, if the truth be told, down in +his secret soul whispered a small, congratulatory voice. Although he did +not yet fully realize it, he was glad he had not. + +Honora, with an involuntary movement, pressed her handkerchief to her +eyes. + +"Good-by, Howard," she said. "I--I did not expect you to understand. If +I had stayed, I should have made you miserably unhappy." + +He took her hand in a dazed manner, as though he knew not in the least +what he was doing. He muttered something and found speech impossible. +He gulped once, uncomfortably. The English language had ceased to be a +medium. Great is the force of habit! In the emergency he reached for his +cigarette case. + +Honora had given orders that the carriage was to wait at the door. The +servants might suspect, but that was all. Her maid had been discreet. +She drew down her veil as she descended the steps, and told the coachman +to drive to the station. + +It was raining. Leaning forward from under the hood as the horses +started, she took her last look at the lilacs. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. IN WHICH THE LAW BETRAYS A HEART + +It was still raining when she got into a carriage at Boston and drove +under the elevated tracks, through the narrow, slippery business +streets, to the hotel. From the windows of her room, as the night fell, +she looked out across the dripping foliage of the Common. Below her, and +robbed from that sacred ground, were the little granite buildings +that housed the entrances to the subway, and for a long time she stood +watching the people crowding into these. Most of them had homes to go +to! In the gathering gloom the arc-lights shone, casting yellow streaks +on the glistening pavement; wagons and carriages plunged into the +maelstrom at the corner; pedestrians dodged and slipped; lightnings +flashed from overhead wires, and clanging trolley cars pushed their +greater bulk through the mass. And presently the higher toned and more +ominous bell of an ambulance sounded on its way to the scene of an +accident. + +It was Mathilde who ordered her dinner and pressed her to eat. But +she had no heart for food. In her bright sitting-room, with the shades +tightly drawn, an inexpressible loneliness assailed her. A large +engraving of a picture of a sentimental school hung on the wall: she +could not bear to look at it, and yet her eyes, from time to time, were +fatally drawn thither. It was of a young girl taking leave of her lover, +in early Christian times, before entering the arena. It haunted Honora, +and wrought upon her imagination to such a pitch that she went into her +bedroom to write. + +For a long time nothing more was written of the letter than "Dear Uncle +Tom and Aunt Mary": what to say to them? + + "I do not know what you will think of me. I do not know, to-night, + what to think of myself. I have left Howard. It is not because he + was cruel to me, or untrue. He does not love me, nor I him. I + cannot expect you, who have known the happiness of marriage, to + realize the tortures of it without love. My pain in telling you + this now is all the greater because I realize your belief as to the + sacredness of the tie--and it is not your fault that you did not + instil that belief into me. I have had to live and to think and to + suffer for myself. I do not attempt to account for my action, and I + hesitate to lay the blame upon the modern conditions and atmosphere + in which I lived; for I feel that, above all things, I must be + honest with myself. + + "My marriage with Howard was a frightful mistake, and I have grown + slowly to realize it, until life with him became insupportable. + Since he does not love me, since his one interest is his business, + my departure makes no great difference to him. + + "Dear Aunt Mary and Uncle Tom, I realize that I owe you much + --everything that I am. I do not expect you to understand or to + condone what I have done. I only beg that you will continue to + --love your niece, + + "HONORA." + +She tried to review this letter. Incoherent though it were and +incomplete, in her present state of mind she was able to add but a few +words as a postscript. "I will write you my plans in a day or two, when +I see my way more clearly. I would fly to you--but I cannot. I am going +to get a divorce." + +She sat for a time picturing the scene in the sitting-room when they +should read it, and a longing which was almost irresistible seized her +to go back to that shelter. One force alone held her in misery where +she was,--her love for Chiltern; it drew her on to suffer the horrors of +exile and publicity. When she suffered most, his image rose before her, +and she kissed the ring on her hand. Where was he now, on this rainy +night? On the seas? + +At the thought she heard again the fog-horns and the sirens. + +Her sleep was fitful. Many times she went over again her talk with +Howard, and she surprised herself by wondering what he had thought and +felt since her departure. And ever and anon she was startled out of +chimerical dreams by the clamour of bells-the trolley cars on their +ceaseless round passing below. At last came the slumber of exhaustion. + +It was nine o'clock when she awoke and faced the distasteful task she +had set herself for the day. In her predicament she descended to the +office, where the face of one of the clerks attracted her, and she +waited until he was unoccupied. + +"I should like you to tell me--the name of some reputable lawyer," she +said. + +"Certainly, Mrs. Spence," he replied, and Honora was startled at the +sound of her name. She might have realized that he would know her. "I +suppose a young lawyer would do--if the matter is not very important." + +"Oh, no!" she cried, blushing to her temples. "A young lawyer would do +very well." + +The clerk reflected. He glanced at Honora again; and later in the day +she divined what had been going on in his mind. + +"Well," he said, "there are a great many. I happen to think of Mr. +Wentworth, because he was in the hotel this morning. He is in the +Tremont Building." + +She thanked him hurriedly, and was driven to the Tremont Building, +through the soggy street that faced the still dripping trees of the +Common. Mounting in the elevator, she read on the glass door amongst +the names of the four members of the firm that of Alden Wentworth, and +suddenly found herself face to face with the young man, in his private +office. He was well groomed and deeply tanned, and he rose to meet her +with a smile that revealed a line of perfect white teeth. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Spence?" he said. "I did not think, when I met you +at Mrs. Grenfell's, that I should see you so soon in Boston. Won't you +sit down?" + +Honora sat down. There seemed nothing else to do. She remembered him +perfectly now, and she realized that the nimble-witted clerk had meant +to send her to a gentleman. + +"I thought," she faltered, "I thought I was coming to a--a stranger. +They gave me your address at the hotel--when I asked for a lawyer." + +"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Wentworth, delicately, "perhaps you would +prefer to go to some one else. I can give you any number of addresses, +if you like." + +She looked up at him gratefully. He seemed very human and +understanding,--very honourable. He belonged to her generation, after +all, and she feared an older man. + +"If you will be kind enough to listen to me, I think I will stay here. +It is only a matter of--of knowledge of the law." She looked at him +again, and the pathos of her smile went straight to his heart. For +Mr. Wentworth possessed that organ, although he did not wear it on his +sleeve. + +He crossed the room, closed the door, and sat down beside her. + +"Anything I can do," he said. + +She glanced at him once more, helplessly. + +"I do not know how to tell you," she began. "It all seems so dreadful." +She paused, but he had the lawyer's gift of silence--of sympathetic +silence. "I want to get a divorce from my husband." + +If Mr. Wentworth was surprised, he concealed it admirably. His +attitude of sympathy did not change, but he managed to ask her, in a +business-like tone which she welcomed:--"On what grounds?" + +"I was going to ask you that question," said Honora. + +This time Mr. Wentworth was surprised--genuinely so, and he showed it. + +"But, my dear Mrs. Spence," he protested, "you must remember that--that +I know nothing of the case." + +"What are the grounds one can get divorced on?" she asked. + +He coloured a little under his tan. + +"They are different in different states," he replied. "I +think--perhaps--the best way would be to read you the Massachusetts +statutes." + +"No--wait a moment," she said. "It's very simple, after all, what I have +to tell you. I don't love my husband, and he doesn't love me, and it has +become torture to live together. I have left him with his knowledge and +consent, and he understands that I will get a divorce." + +Mr. Wentworth appeared to be pondering--perhaps not wholly on the legal +aspects of the case thus naively presented. Whatever may have been his +private comments, they were hidden. He pronounced tentatively, and a +little absently, the word "desertion." + +"If the case could possibly be construed as desertion on your husband's +part, you could probably get a divorce in three years in Massachusetts." + +"Three years!" cried Honora, appalled. "I could never wait three years!" + +She did not remark the young lawyer's smile, which revealed a greater +knowledge of the world than one would have suspected. He said nothing, +however. + +"Three years!" she repeated. "Why, it can't be, Mr. Wentworth. There +are the Waterfords--she was Mrs. Boutwell, you remember. And--and Mrs. +Rindge--it was scarcely a year before--" + +He had the grace to nod gravely, and to pretend not to notice the +confusion in which she halted. Lawyers, even young ones with white teeth +and clear eyes, are apt to be a little cynical. He had doubtless seen +from the beginning that there was a man in the background. It was not +his business to comment or to preach. + +"Some of the western states grant divorces on--on much easier terms," he +said politely. "If you care to wait, I will go into our library and look +up the laws of those states." + +"I wish you would," answered Honora. "I don't think I could bear to +spend three years in such--in such an anomalous condition. And at any +rate I should much rather go West, out of sight, and have it all as +quickly over with as possible." + +He bowed, and departed on his quest. And Honora waited, at moments +growing hot at the recollection of her conversation with him. Why--she +asked herself should the law make it so difficult, and subject her to +such humiliation in a course which she felt to be right and natural and +noble? Finally, her thoughts becoming too painful, she got up and looked +out of the window. And far below her, through the mist, she beheld the +burying-ground of Boston's illustrious dead which her cabman had pointed +out to her as he passed. She did not hear the door open as Mr. Wentworth +returned, and she started at the sound of his voice. + +"I take it for granted that you are really serious in this matter, Mrs. +Spence," he said. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. + +"And that you have thoroughly reflected," he continued imperturbably. +Evidently, in spite of the cold impartiality of the law, a New England +conscience had assailed him in the library. "I cannot take er--the +responsibility of advising you as to a course of action. You have asked +me the laws of certain western states as to divorce I will read them." + +An office boy followed him, deposited several volumes on the taule, and +Mr. Wentworth read from them in a voice magnificently judicial. + +"There's not much choice, is there?" she faltered, when he had finished. + +He smiled. + +"As places of residence--" he began, in an attempt to relieve the +pathos. + +"Oh, I didn't mean that," she cried. "Exile is--is exile." She flushed. +After a few moments of hesitation she named at random a state the laws +of which required a six months' residence. She contemplated him. "I +hardly dare to ask you to give me the name of some reputable lawyer out +there." + +He had looked for an instant into her eyes. Men of the law are not +invulnerable, particularly at Mr. Wentworth's age, and New England +consciences to the contrary notwithstanding. In spite of himself, her +eyes had made him a partisan: an accomplice, he told himself afterwards. + +"Really, Mrs. Spence," he began, and caught another appealing look. He +remembered the husband now, and a lecture on finance in the Grenfell +smoking room which Howard Spence had delivered, and which had grated +on Boston sensibility. "It is only right to tell you that our firm does +not--does not--take divorce cases--as a rule. Not that we are taking +this one," he added hurriedly. "But as a friend--" + +"Oh, thank you!" said Honora. + +"Merely as a friend who would be glad to do you a service," he +continued, "I will, during the day, try to get you the name of--of as +reputable a lawyer as possible in that place." + +And Mr. Wentworth paused, as red as though he had asked her to marry +him. + +"How good of you!" she cried. "I shall be at the Touraine until this +evening." + +He escorted her through the corridor, bowed her into the elevator, and +her spirits had risen perceptibly as she got into her cab and returned +to the hotel. There, she studied railroad folders. One confidant was +enough, and she dared not even ask the head porter the way to a locality +where--it was well known--divorces were sold across a counter. And as +she worked over the intricacies of this problem the word her husband +had applied to her action recurred to her--precipitate. No doubt Mr. +Wentworth, too, had thought her precipitate. Nearly every important act +of her life had been precipitate. But she was conscious in this instance +of no regret. Delay, she felt, would have killed her. Let her exile +begin at once. + +She had scarcely finished luncheon when Mr. Wentworth was announced. For +reasons best known to himself he had come in person; and he handed her, +written on a card, the name of the Honourable David Beckwith. + +"I'll have to confess I don't know much about him, Mrs. Spence," he +said, "except that he has been in Congress, and is one of the prominent +lawyers of that state." + +The gift of enlisting sympathy and assistance was peculiarly Honora's. +And if some one had predicted that morning to Mr. Wentworth that before +nightfall he would not only have put a lady in distress on the highroad +to obtaining a western divorce (which he had hitherto looked upon as +disgraceful), but that likewise he would miss his train for Pride's +Crossing, buy the lady's tickets, and see her off at the South Station +for Chicago, he would have regarded the prophet as a lunatic. But that +is precisely what Mr. Wentworth did. And when, as her train pulled out, +Honora bade him goodby, she felt the tug at her heartstrings which comes +at parting with an old friend. + +"And anything I can do for you here in the East, while--while you are +out there, be sure to let me know," he said. + +She promised and waved at him from the platform as he stood motionless, +staring after her. Romance had spent a whole day in Boston! And with Mr. +Alden Wentworth, of all people! + +Fortunately for the sanity of the human race, the tension of grief is +variable. Honora, closed in her stateroom, eased herself that night by +writing a long, if somewhat undecipherable, letter to Chiltern; and was +able, the next day, to read the greater portion of a novel. It was only +when she arrived in Chicago, after nightfall, that loneliness again +assailed her. She was within nine hours--so the timetable said--of St. +Louis! Of all her trials, the homesickness which she experienced as she +drove through the deserted streets of the metropolis of the Middle West +was perhaps the worst. A great city on Sunday night! What traveller +has not felt the depressing effect of it? And, so far as the incoming +traveller is concerned, Chicago does not put her best foot forward. The +way from the station to the Auditorium Hotel was hacked and bruised--so +it seemed--by the cruel battle of trade. And she stared, in a kind of +fascination that increased the ache in her heart; at the ugliness and +cruelty of the twentieth century. + +To have imagination is unquestionably to possess a great capacity for +suffering, and Honora was paying the penalty for hers. It ran riot now. +The huge buildings towered like formless monsters against the blackness +of the sky under the sickly blue of the electric lights, across the +dirty, foot-scarred pavements, strange black human figures seemed to +wander aimlessly: an elevated train thundered overhead. And presently +she found herself the tenant of two rooms in that vast refuge of the +homeless, the modern hotel, where she sat until the small hours looking +down upon the myriad lights of the shore front, and out beyond them on +the black waters of an inland sea. + + ....................... + +From Newport to Salomon City, in a state not far from the Pacific tier, +is something of a transition in less than a week, though in modern life +we should be surprised at nothing. Limited trains are wonderful enough; +but what shall be said of the modern mind, that travels faster than +light? and much too fast for the pages of a chronicle. Martha Washington +and the good ladies of her acquaintance knew nothing about the upper +waters of the Missouri, and the words "for better, for worse, for +richer, for poorer" were not merely literature to them. + +'Nous avons change tout cela', although there are yet certain crudities +to be eliminated. In these enlightened times, if in one week a lady is +not entirely at home with husband number one, in the next week she +may have travelled in comparative comfort some two-thirds across a +continent, and be on the highroad to husband number two. Why travel? +Why have to put up with all this useless expense and worry and waste +of time? Why not have one's divorce sent, C.O.D., to one's door, +or establish a new branch of the Post-office Department? American +enterprise has surely lagged in this. + +Seated in a plush-covered rocking-chair that rocked on a track of its +own, and thus saved the yellow-and-red hotel carpet, the Honourable +Dave Beckwith patiently explained the vexatious process demanded by his +particular sovereign state before she should consent to cut the Gordian +knot of marriage. And his state--the Honourable Dave remarked--was in +the very forefront of enlightenment in this respect: practically all +that she demanded was that ladies in Mrs. Spence's predicament should +become, pro tempore, her citizens. Married misery did not exist in the +Honourable Dave's state, amongst her own bona fide citizens. And, by a +wise provision in the Constitution of our glorious American Union, no +one state could tie the nuptial knot so tight that another state could +not cut it at a blow. + +Six months' residence, and a whole year before the divorce could be +granted! Honora looked at the plush rocking-chair, the yellow-and-red +carpet, the inevitable ice-water on the marble-topped table, and the +picture of a lady the shape of a liqueur bottle playing tennis in the +late eighties, and sighed. For one who is sensitive to surroundings, +that room was a torture chamber. + +"But Mr. Beckwith," she exclaimed, "I never could spend a year here! +Isn't there a--house I could get that is a--a little--a little better +furnished? And then there is a certain publicity about staying at a +hotel." + +The Honourable Dave might have been justly called the friend of ladies +in a temporary condition of loneliness. His mission in life was not +merely that of a liberator, but his natural goodness led him to perform +a hundred acts of kindness to make as comfortable as possible the +purgatory of the unfortunates under his charge. He was a man of a +remarkable appearance, and not to be lightly forgotten. His hair, above +all, fascinated Honora, and she found her eyes continually returning +to it. So incredibly short it was, and so incredibly stiff, that it +reminded her of the needle points on the cylinder of an old-fashioned +music-box; and she wondered, if it were properly inserted, what would be +the resultant melody. + +The Honourable Dave's head was like a cannon-ball painted white. Across +the top of it (a blemish that would undoubtedly have spoiled the tune) +was a long scar,--a relic of one of the gentleman's many personal +difficulties. He who made the sear, Honora reflected, must have been +a strong man. The Honourable Dave, indeed, had fought his way upward +through life to the Congress of the United States; and many were the +harrowing tales of frontier life he told Honora in the long winter +evenings when the blizzards came down the river valley. They would fill +a book; unfortunately, not this book. The growing responsibilities of +taking care of the lonely ladies that came in increasing numbers to +Salomon City from the effeter portions of the continent had at length +compelled him to give up his congressional career. The Honourable Dave +was unmarried; and, he told Honora, not likely to become so. He was thus +at once human and invulnerable, a high priest dedicated to freedom. + +It is needless to say that the plush rocking-chair and the picture +of the liqueur-bottle lady did not jar on his sensibilities. Like +an eminent physician who has never himself experienced neurosis, the +Honourable Dave firmly believed that he understood the trouble from +which his client was suffering. He had seen many cases of it in ladies +from the Atlantic coast: the first had surprised him, no doubt. Salomon +City, though it contained the great Boon, was not esthetic. Being a keen +student of human nature, he rightly supposed that she would not care to +join the colony, but he thought it his duty to mention that there was a +colony. + +Honora repeated the word. + +"Out there," he said, waving his cigar to the westward, "some of the +ladies have ranches." Some of the gentlemen, too, he added, for it +appeared that exiles were not confined to one sex. "It's social--a +little too social, I guess," declared Mr. Beckwith, "for you." A +delicate compliment of differentiation that Honora accepted gravely. +"They've got a casino, and they burn a good deal of electricity first +and last. They don't bother Salomon City much. Once in a while, in the +winter, they come in a bunch to the theatre. Soon as I looked at you I +knew you wouldn't want to go there." + +Her exclamation was sufficiently eloquent. + +"I've got just the thing for you," he said. "It looks a little as if I +was reaching out into the sanitarium business. Are you acquainted by +any chance with Mrs. Boutwell, who married a fellow named Waterford?" he +asked, taking momentarily out of his mouth the cigar he was smoking by +permission. + +Honora confessed, with no great enthusiasm, that she knew the present +Mrs. Waterford. Not the least of her tribulations had been to listen to +a partial recapitulation, by the Honourable Dave, of the ladies he had +assisted to a transfer of husbands. What, indeed, had these ladies to do +with her? She felt that the very mention of them tended to soil the pure +garments of her martyrdom. + +"What I was going to say was this," the Honourable Dave continued. "Mrs. +Boutwell--that is to say Mrs. Waterford--couldn't stand this hotel any +more than you, and she felt like you do about the colony, so she rented +a little house up on Wylie Street and furnished it from the East. I took +the furniture off her hands: it's still in the house, by the way, which +hasn't been rented. For I figured it out that another lady would be +coming along with the same notions. Now you can look at the house any +time you like." + +Although she had to overcome the distaste of its antecedents, the house, +or rather the furniture, was too much of a find in Salomon City to be +resisted. It had but six rooms, and was of wood, and painted grey, like +its twin beside it. But Mrs. Waterford had removed the stained-glass +window-lights in the front door, deftly hidden the highly ornamental +steam radiators, and made other eliminations and improvements, including +the white bookshelves that still contained the lady's winter reading +fifty or more yellow-and-green-backed French novels and plays. Honora's +first care, after taking possession, was to order her maid to remove +these from her sight: but it is to be feared that they found their way, +directly, to Mathilde's room. Honora would have liked to fumigate the +house; and yet, at the same time, she thanked her stars for it. Mr. +Beekwith obligingly found her a cook, and on Thursday evening she sat +down to supper in her tiny dining room. She had found a temporary haven, +at last. + +Suddenly she remembered that it was an anniversary. One week ago that +day, in the old garden at Beaulieu, had occurred the momentous event +that had changed the current of her life! + + + + +CHAPTER IX. WYLIE STREET + +There was a little spindle-supported porch before Honora's front door, +and had she chosen she might have followed the example of her neighbours +and sat there in the evenings. She preferred to watch the life about +her from the window-seat in the little parlour. The word exile suggests, +perhaps, to those who have never tried it, empty wastes, isolation, +loneliness. She had been prepared for these things, and Wylie Street was +a shock to her: in sending her there at this crisis in her life fate +had perpetrated nothing less than a huge practical joke. Next door, for +instance, in the twin house to hers, flaunted in the face of liberal +divorce laws, was a young couple with five children. Honora counted +them, from the eldest ones that ran over her little grass plot on their +way to and from the public school, to the youngest that spent much of +his time gazing skyward from a perambulator on the sidewalk. Six days of +the week, about six o'clock in the evening, there was a celebration in +the family. Father came home from work! He was a smooth-faced young man +whom a fortnight in the woods might have helped wonderfully--a clerk in +the big department store. + +He radiated happiness. When opposite Honora's front door he would open +his arms--the signal for a race across her lawn. Sometimes it was the +little girl, with pigtails the colour of pulled molasses candy, who +won the prize of the first kiss: again it was her brother, a year her +junior; and when he was raised it was seen that the seat of his trousers +was obviously double. But each of the five received a reward, and the +baby was invariably lifted out of the perambulator. And finally there +was a conjugal kiss on the spindled porch. + +The wife was a roly-poly little body. In the mornings, at the side +windows, Honora heard her singing as she worked, and sometimes the sun +struck with a blinding flash the pan she was in the act of shining. +And one day she looked up and nodded and smiled. Strange indeed was the +effect upon our heroine of that greeting! It amazed Honora herself. A +strange current ran through her and left her hot, and even as she smiled +and nodded back, unbidden tears rose scalding to her eyes. What was it? +Why was it? + +She went downstairs to the little bookcase, filled now with volumes that +were not trash. For Hugh's sake, she would try to improve herself this +winter by reading serious things. But between her eyes and the book was +the little woman's smile. A month before, at Newport, how little she +would have valued it. + +One morning, as Honora was starting out for her lonely walk--that +usually led her to the bare clay banks of the great river--she ran +across her neighbour on the sidewalk. The little woman was settling the +baby for his airing, and she gave Honora the same dazzling smile. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Spence," she said. + +"Good morning," replied Honora, and in her strange confusion she leaned +over the carriage. "Oh, what a beautiful baby!" + +"Isn't he!" cried the little woman. "Of all of 'em, I think he's the +prize. His father says so. I guess," she added, "I guess it was because +I didn't know so much about 'em when they first began to come. You take +my word for it, the best way is to leave 'em alone. Don't dandle 'em. +It's hard to keep your hands off 'em, but it's right." + +"I'm sure of it," said Honora, who was very red. + +They made a strange contrast as they stood on that new street, with its +new vitrified brick paving and white stone curbs, and new little trees +set out in front of new little houses: Mrs. Mayo (for such, Honora's +cook had informed her, was her name) in a housekeeper's apron and a +shirtwaist, and Honora, almost a head taller, in a walking costume of +dark grey that would have done justice to Fifth Avenue. The admiration +in the little woman's eyes was undisguised. + +"You're getting a bill, I hear," she said, after a moment. + +"A bill?" repeated Honora. + +"A bill of divorce," explained Mrs. Mayo. + +Honora was conscious of conflicting emotions: astonishment, resentment, +and--most curiously--of relief that the little woman knew it. + +"Yes," she answered. + +But Mrs. Mayo did not appear to notice or resent her brevity. + +"I took a fancy to you the minute I saw you," she said. "I can't say as +much for the other Easterner that was here last year. But I made up my +mind that it must be a mighty mean man who would treat you badly." + +Honora stood as though rooted to the pavement. She found a reply +impossible. + +"When I think of my luck," her neighbour continued, "I'm almost ashamed. +We were married on fifteen dollars a week. Of course there have been +trials, we must always expect that; and we've had to work hard, +but--it hasn't hurt us." She paused and looked up at Honora, and added +contritely: "There! I shouldn't have said anything. It's mean of me +to talk of my happiness. I'll drop in some afternoon--if you'll let +me--when I get through my work," said the little woman. + +"I wish you would," replied Honora. + +She had much to think of on her walk that morning, and new resolutions +to make. Here was happiness growing and thriving, so far as she could +see, without any of that rarer nourishment she had once thought so +necessary. And she had come two thousand miles to behold it. + +She walked many miles, as a part of the regimen and discipline to which +she had set herself. Her haunting horror in this place, as she thought +of the colony of which Mr. Beckwith had spoken and of Mrs. Boutwell's +row of French novels, was degeneration. She was resolved to return +to Chiltern a better and a wiser and a truer woman, unstained by the +ordeal. At the outskirts of the town she halted by the river's bank, +breathing deeply of the pure air of the vast plains that surrounded her. + +She was seated that afternoon at her desk in the sitting-room upstairs +when she heard the tinkle of the door-bell, and remembered her +neighbour's promise to call. With something of a pang she pushed back +her chair. Since the episode of the morning, the friendship of the +little woman had grown to have a definite value; for it was no small +thing, in Honora's situation, to feel the presence of a warm heart +next door. All day she had been thinking of Mrs. Mayo and her strange +happiness, and longing to talk with her again, and dreading it. And +while she was bracing herself for the trial Mathilde entered with a +card. + +"Tell Mrs. Mayo I shall be down in a minute," she said. + +It was not a lady, Mathilde replied, but a monsieur. + +Honora took the card. For a long time she sat staring at it, while +Mathilde waited. It read: + + Mr. Peter Erwin. + +"Madame will see monsieur?" + +A great sculptor once said to the statesman who was to be his model: +"Wear your old coat. There is as much of a man in the back of his +old coat, I think, as there is in his face." As Honora halted on the +threshold, Peter was standing looking out of the five-foot plate-glass +window, and his back was to her. + +She was suddenly stricken. Not since she had been a child, not even in +the weeks just passed, had she felt that pain. And as a child, self-pity +seized her--as a lost child, when darkness is setting in, and the will +fails and distance appalls. Scalding tears welled into her eyes as she +seized the frame of the door, but it must have been her breathing that +he heard. He turned and crossed the room to her as she had known he +would, and she clung to him as she had so often done in days gone by +when, hurt and bruised, he had rescued and soothed her. For the moment, +the delusion that his power was still limitless prevailed, and her faith +whole again, so many times had he mended a world all awry. + +He led her to the window-seat and gently disengaged her hands from his +shoulders and took one of them and held it between his own. He did not +speak, for his was a rare intuition; and gradually her hand ceased +to tremble, and the uncontrollable sobs that shook her became less +frequent. + +"Why did you come? Why did you come?" she cried. + +"To see you, Honora." + +"But you might have--warned me." + +"Yes," he said, "it's true, I might." + +She drew her hand away, and gazed steadfastly at his face. + +"Why aren't you angry?" she said. "You don't believe in what I have +done--you don't sympathize with it--you don't understand it." + +"I have come here to try," he said. + +She shook her head. + +"You can't--you can't--you never could." + +"Perhaps," he answered, "it may not be so difficult as you think." + +Grown calmer, she considered this. What did he mean by it? to imply a +knowledge of herself? + +"It will be useless," she said inconsequently. + +"No," he said, "it will not be useless." + +She considered this also, and took the broader meaning that such acts +are not wasted. + +"What do you intend to try to do?" she asked. + +He smiled a little. + +"To listen to as much as you care to tell me, Honora." + +She looked at him again, and an errant thought slipped in between her +larger anxieties. Wherever he went, how extraordinarily he seemed to +harmonize with his surroundings. At Silverdale, and in the drawing-room +of the New York house, and in the little parlour in this far western +town. What was it? His permanence? Was it his power? She felt that, but +it was a strange kind of power--not like other men's. She felt, as she +sat there beside him, that his was a power more difficult to combat. +That to defeat it was at once to make it stronger, and to grow weaker. +She summoned her pride, she summoned her wrongs: she summoned the +ego which had winged its triumphant flight far above his kindly, +disapproving eye. He had the ability to make her taste defeat in the +very hour of victory. And she knew that, when she fell, he would be +there in his strength to lift her up. + +"Did--did they tell you to come?" she asked. + +"There was no question of that, Honora. I was away when--when they +learned you were here. As soon as I returned, I came." + +"Tell me how they feel," she said, in a low voice. + +"They think only of you. And the thought that you are unhappy +overshadows all others. They believe that it is to them you should have +come, if you were in trouble instead of coming here." + +"How could I?" she cried. "How can you ask? That is what makes it so +hard, that I cannot be with them now. But I should only have made them +still more unhappy, if I had gone. They would not have understood--they +cannot understand who have every reason to believe in marriage, why +those to whom it has been a mockery and a torture should be driven to +divorce." + +"Why divorce?" he said. + +"Do you mean--do you mean that you wish me to give you the reasons why I +felt justified in leaving my husband?" + +"Not unless you care to," he replied. "I have no right to demand them. +I only ask you to remember, Honora, that you have not explained these +reasons very clearly in your letters to your aunt and uncle. They do not +understand them. Your uncle was unable, on many accounts, to come here; +and he thought that--that as an old friend, you might be willing to talk +to me." + +"I can't live with--with my husband," she cried. "I don't love him, and +he doesn't love me. He doesn't know what love is." + +Peter Erwin glanced at her, but she was too absorbed then to see the +thing in his eyes. He made no comment. + +"We haven't the same tastes, nor--nor the same way of looking at +things--the same views about making money--for instance. We became +absolute strangers. What more is there to say?" she added, a little +defiantly. + +"Your husband committed no--flagrant offence against you?" he inquired. + +"That would have made him human, at least," she cried. "It would have +proved that he could feel--something. No, all he cares for in the world +is to make money, and he doesn't care how he makes it. No woman with an +atom of soul can live with a man like that." + +If Peter Erwin deemed this statement a trifle revolutionary, he did not +say so. + +"So you just--left him," he said. + +"Yes," said Honora. "He didn't care. He was rather relieved than +otherwise. If I had lived with him till I died, I couldn't have made him +happy." + +"You tried, and failed," said Peter. + +She flushed. + +"I couldn't have made him happier," she declared, correcting herself. +"He has no conception of what real happiness is. He thinks he is +happy,-he doesn't need me. He'll be much more--contented without me. I +have nothing against him. I was to blame for marrying him, I know. But +I have only one life to live, and I can't throw it away, Peter, I +can't. And I can't believe that a woman and a man were intended to live +together without love. It is too horrible. Surely that isn't your idea +of marriage!" + +"My idea of marriage isn't worth very much, I'm afraid," he said. "If +I talked about it, I should have to confine myself to theories and--and +dreams." + +"The moment I saw your card, Peter, I knew why you had come here," she +said, trying to steady her voice. "It was to induce me to go back to my +husband. You don't know how it hurts me to give you pain. I love you--I +love you as I love Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary. You are a part of me. But +oh, you can't understand! I knew you could not. You have never made any +mistakes--you have never lived. It is useless. I won't go back to him. +If you stayed here for weeks you could not make me change my mind." + +He was silent. + +"You think that I could have prevented--this, if I had been less +selfish," she said. + +"Where you are concerned, Honora, I have but one desire," he answered, +"and that is to see you happy--in the best sense of the term. If I could +induce you to go back and give your husband another trial, I should +return with a lighter heart. You ask me whether I think you have been +selfish. I answer frankly that I think you have. I don't pretend to say +your husband has not been selfish also. Neither of you have ever tried, +apparently, to make your marriage a success. It can't be done without an +honest effort. You have abandoned the most serious and sacred enterprise +in the world as lightly as though it had been a piece of embroidery. All +that I can gather from your remarks is that you have left your husband +because you have grown tired of him." + +"Yes," said Honora, "and you can never realize how tired, unless you +knew him as I did. When love dies, it turns into hate." + +He rose, and walked to the other end of the room, and turned. + +"Could you be induced," he said, "for the sake of your aunt and uncle, +if not for your own, to consider a legal separation?" + +For an instant she stared at him hopelessly, and then she buried her +face in her hands. + +"No," she cried. "No, I couldn't. You don't know what you ask." + +He went to her, and laid his hand lightly on her shoulder. + +"I think I do," he said. + +There was a moment's tense silence, and then she got to her feet and +looked at him proudly. + +"Yes," she cried, "it is true. And I am not ashamed of it. I have +discovered what love is, and what life is, and I am going to take them +while I can." + +She saw the blood slowly leave his face, and his hands tighten. It was +not until then that she guessed at the depth of his wound, and knew that +it was unhealed. For him had been reserved this supreme irony, that he +should come here to plead for her husband and learn from her own lips +that she loved another man. She was suddenly filled with awe, though he +turned away from her that she might not see his face: And she sought in +vain for words. She touched his hand, fearfully, and now it was he who +trembled. + +"Peter," she exclaimed, "why do you bother with me? I--I am what I am. I +can't help it. I was made so. I cannot tell you that I am sorry for what +I have done--for what I am going to do. I will not lie to you--and you +forced me to speak. I know that you don't understand, and that I caused +you pain, and that I shall cause--them pain. It may be selfishness--I +don't know. God alone knows. Whatever it is, it is stronger than I. It +is what I am. Though I were to be thrown into eternal fire I would not +renounce it." + +She looked at him again, and her breath caught. While she had been +speaking, he had changed. There was a fire in his eyes she had never +seen before, in all the years she had known him. + +"Honora," he said quietly, "the man who has done this is a scoundrel." + +She stared at him, doubting her senses, her pupils wide with terror. + +"How dare you, Peter! How dare you!" she cried. + +"I dare to speak the truth," he said, and crossed the room to where his +hat was lying and picked it up. She watched him as in a trance. Then he +came back to her. + +"Some day, perhaps, you will forgive me for saying that, Honora. I hope +that day will come, although I shall never regret having said it. I have +caused you pain. Sometimes, it seems, pain is unavoidable. I hope you +will remember that, with the exception of your aunt and uncle, you have +no better friend than I. Nothing can alter that friendship, wherever you +go, whatever you do. Goodby." + +He caught her hand, held it for a moment in his own, and the door had +closed before she realized that he had gone. For a few moments she stood +motionless where he had left her, and then she went slowly up the stairs +to her own room.... + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE PRICE OF FREEDOM + +Had he, Hugh Chiltern, been anathematized from all the high pulpits of +the world, Honora's belief in him could not have been shaken. Ivanhoe +and the Knights of the Round Table to the contrary, there is no chivalry +so exalted as that of a woman who loves, no courage higher, no endurance +greater. Her knowledge is complete; and hers the supreme faith that is +unmoved by calumny and unbelief. She alone knows. The old Chiltern did +not belong to her: hers was the new man sprung undefiled from the sacred +fire of their love; and in that fire she, too, had been born again. +Peter--even Peter had no power to share such a faith, though what he +had said of Chiltern had wounded her--wounded her because Peter, of all +others, should misjudge and condemn him. Sometimes she drew consolation +from the thought that Peter had never seen him. But she knew he could +not understand him, or her, or what they had passed through: that kind +of understanding comes alone through experience. + +In the long days that followed she thought much about Peter, and failed +to comprehend her feelings towards him. She told herself that she ought +to hate him for what he had so cruelly said, and at times indeed her +resentment was akin to hatred: again, his face rose before her as +she had seen it when he had left her, and she was swept by an +incomprehensible wave of tenderness and reverence. And yet--paradox of +paradoxes--Chiltern possessed her! + +On the days when his letters came it was as his emissary that the sun +shone to give her light in darkness, and she went about the house with +a song on her lips. They were filled, these letters, with an elixir of +which she drank thirstily to behold visions, and the weariness of her +exile fell away. The elixir of High Purpose. Never was love on such a +plane! He lifting her,--no marvel in this; and she--by a magic power of +levitation at which she never ceased to wonder--sustaining him. By her +aid he would make something of himself which would be worthy of her. At +last he had the incentive to enable him to take his place in the world. +He pictured their future life at Grenoble until her heart was strained +with yearning for it to begin. Here would be duty,--let him who would +gainsay it, duty and love combined with a wondrous happiness. He at a +man's labour, she at a woman's; labour not for themselves alone, but for +others. A paradise such as never was heard of--a God-fearing paradise, +and the reward of courage. + +He told her he could not go to Grenoble now and begin the life without +her. Until that blessed time he would remain a wanderer, avoiding the +haunts of men. First he had cruised in the 'Folly, and then camped +and shot in Canada; and again, as winter drew on apace, had chartered +another yacht, a larger one, and sailed away for the West Indies, whence +the letters came, stamped in strange ports, and sometimes as many as +five together. He, too, was in exile until his regeneration should +begin. + +Well he might be at such a time. One bright day in early winter Honora, +returning from her walk across the bleak plains in the hope of letters, +found newspapers and periodicals instead, addressed in an unknown hand. +It matters not whose hand: Honora never sought to know. She had long +regarded as inevitable this acutest phase of her martyrdom, and the +long nights of tears when entire paragraphs of the loathed stuff she +had burned ran ceaselessly in her mind. Would she had burned it before +reading it! An insensate curiosity had seized her, and she had read and +read again until it was beyond the reach of fire. + +Save for its effect upon Honora, it is immaterial to this chronicle. It +was merely the heaviest of her heavy payments for liberty. But what, she +asked herself shamefully, would be its effect upon Chiltern? Her face +burned that she should doubt his loyalty and love; and yet--the +question returned. There had been a sketch of Howard, dwelling upon +the prominence into which he had sprung through his connection with Mr. +Wing. There had been a sketch of her; and how she had taken what the +writer was pleased to call Society by storm: it had been intimated, with +a cruelty known only to writers of such paragraphs, that ambition +to marry a Chiltern had been her motive! There had been a sketch of +Chiltern's career, in carefully veiled but thoroughly comprehensible +language, which might have made a Bluebeard shudder. This, of course, +she bore best of all; or, let it be said rather, that it cost her the +least suffering. Was it not she who had changed and redeemed him? + +What tortured her most was the intimation that Chiltern's family +connections were bringing pressure to bear upon him to save him from +this supremest of all his follies. And when she thought of this the +strange eyes and baffling expression of Mrs. Grainger rose before her. +Was it true? And if true, would Chiltern resist, even as she, Honora, +had resisted, loyally? Might this love for her not be another of his mad +caprices? + +How Honora hated herself for the thought that thus insistently returned +at this period of snows and blasts! It was January. Had he seen the +newspapers? He had not, for he was cruising: he had, for of course +they had been sent him. And he must have received, from his relatives, +protesting letters. A fortnight passed, and her mail contained nothing +from him! Perhaps something had happened to his yacht! Visions of +shipwreck cause her to scan the newspapers for storms at sea,--but the +shipwreck that haunted her most was that of her happiness. How easy it +is to doubt in exile, with happiness so far away! One morning, when the +wind dashed the snow against her windows, she found it impossible to +rise. + +If the big doctor suspected the cause of her illness, Mathilde knew +it. The maid tended her day and night, and sought, with the tact of her +nation, to console and reassure her. The little woman next door came and +sat by her bedside. Cruel and infinitely happy little woman, filled with +compassion, who brought delicacies in the making of which she had spent +precious hours, and which Honora could not eat! The Lord, when he had +made Mrs. Mayo, had mercifully withheld the gift of imagination. One +topic filled her, she lived to one end: her Alpha and Omega were husband +and children, and she talked continually of their goodness and badness, +of their illnesses, of their health, of their likes and dislikes, of +their accomplishments and defects, until one day a surprising thing +happened. Surprising for Mrs. Mayo. + +"Oh, don't!" cried Honora, suddenly. "Oh, don't! I can't bear it." + +"What is it?" cried Mrs. Mayo, frightened out of her wits. "A turn? +Shall I telephone for the doctor?" + +"No," relied Honora, "but--but I can't talk any more--to-day." + +She apologized on the morrow, as she held Mrs. Mayo's hand. "It--it was +your happiness," she said; "I was unstrung. I couldn't listen to it. +Forgive me." + +The little woman burst into tears, and kissed her as she sat in bed. + +"Forgive you, deary!" she cried. "I never thought." + +"It has been so easy for you," Honora faltered. + +"Yes, it has. I ought to thank God, and I do--every night." + +She looked long and earnestly, through her tears, at the young lady +from the far away East as she lay against the lace pillows, her paleness +enhanced by the pink gown, her dark hair in two great braids on her +shoulders. + +"And to think how pretty you are!" she exclaimed. + +It was thus she expressed her opinion of mankind in general, outside +of her own family circle. Once she had passionately desired beauty, +the high school and the story of Helen of Troy notwithstanding. Now she +began to look at it askance, as a fatal gift; and to pity, rather than +envy, its possessors. + +As a by-industry, Mrs. Mayo raised geraniums and carnations in her +front cellar, near the furnace, and once in a while Peggy, with the +pulled-molasses hair, or chubby Abraham Lincoln, would come puffing +up Honora's stairs under the weight of a flower-pot and deposit it +triumphantly on the table at Honora's bedside. Abraham Lincoln did not +object to being kissed: he had, at least, grown to accept the process +as one of the unaccountable mysteries of life. But something happened to +him one afternoon, on the occasion of his giving proof of an intellect +which may eventually bring him, in the footsteps of his great namesake, +to the White House. Entering Honora's front door, he saw on the hall +table a number of letters which the cook (not gifted with his brains) +had left there. He seized them in one fat hand, while with the other +he hugged the flower-pot to his breast, mounted the steps, and arrived, +breathless but radiant, on the threshold of the beautiful lady's room, +and there calamity overtook him in the shape of one of the thousand +articles which are left on the floor purposely to trip up little boys. + +Great was the disaster. Letters, geranium, pieces of flower-pot, a +quantity of black earth, and a howling Abraham Lincoln bestrewed the +floor. And similar episodes, in his brief experience with this world, +had not brought rewards. It was from sheer amazement that his tears +ceased to flow--amazement and lack of breath--for the beautiful +lady sprang up and seized him in her arms, and called Mathilde, who +eventually brought a white and gold box. And while Abraham sat consuming +its contents in ecstasy he suddenly realized that the beautiful lady +had forgotten him. She had picked up the letters, every one, and stood +reading them with parted lips and staring eyes. + +It was Mathilde who saved him from a violent illness, closing the box +and leading him downstairs, and whispered something incomprehensible in +his ear as she pointed him homeward. + +"Le vrai medecin--c'est toi, mon mignon." + +There was a reason why Chiltern's letters had not arrived, and great +were Honora's self-reproach and penitence. With a party of Englishmen +he had gone up into the interior of a Central American country to +visit some famous ruins. He sent her photographs of them, and of the +Englishmen, and of himself. Yes, he had seen the newspapers. If she had +not seen them, she was not to read them if they came to her. And if she +had, she was to remember that their love was too sacred to be soiled, +and too perfect to be troubled. As for himself, as she knew, he was a +changed man, who thought of his former life with loathing. She had made +him clean, and filled him with a new strength. + +The winter passed. The last snow melted on the little grass plot, which +changed by patches from brown to emerald green; and the children ran +over it again, and tracked it in the soft places, but Honora only +smiled. Warm, still days were interspersed between the windy ones, when +the sky was turquoise blue, when the very river banks were steeped in +new colours, when the distant, shadowy mountains became real. Liberty +ran riot within her. If he thought with loathing on his former life, so +did she. Only a year ago she had been penned up in a New York street in +that prison-house of her own making, hemmed in by surroundings which she +had now learned to detest from her soul. + +A few more penalties remained to be paid, and the heaviest of these was +her letter to her aunt and uncle. Even as they had accepted other things +in life, so had they accepted the hardest of all to bear--Honora's +divorce. A memorable letter her Uncle Tom had written her after Peter's +return to tell them that remonstrances were useless! She was their +daughter in all but name, and they would not forsake her. When she +should have obtained her divorce, she should go back to them. Their +house, which had been her home, should always remain so. Honora wept +and pondered long over that letter. Should she write and tell them the +truth, as she had told Peter? It was not because she was ashamed of +the truth that she had kept it from them throughout the winter: it +was because she wished to spare them as long as possible. Cruellest +circumstance of all, that a love so divine as hers should not be +understood by them, and should cause them infinite pain! + +The weeks and months slipped by. Their letters, after that first one, +were such as she had always received from them: accounts of the weather, +and of the doings of her friends at home. But now the time was at hand +when she must prepare them for her marriage with Chiltern; for they +would expect her in St. Louis, and she could not go there. And if she +wrote them, they might try to stop the marriage, or at least to delay it +for some years. + +Was it possible that a lingering doubt remained in her mind that to +postpone her happiness would perhaps be to lose it? In her exile she had +learned enough to know that a divorced woman is like a rudderless ship +at sea, at the mercy of wind and wave and current. She could not go back +to her life in St. Louis: her situation there would be unbearable: her +friends would not be the same friends. No, she had crossed her Rubicon +and destroyed the bridge deep within her she felt that delay would be +fatal, both to her and Chiltern. Long enough had the banner of their +love been trailed in the dust. + +Summer came again, with its anniversaries and its dragging, interminable +weeks: demoralizing summer, when Mrs. Mayo quite frankly appeared at her +side window in a dressing sacque, and Honora longed to do the same. +But time never stands absolutely still, and the day arrived when Mr. +Beckwith called in a carriage. Honora, with an audibly beating heart, +got into it, and they drove down town, past the department store where +Mr. Mayo spent his days, and new blocks of banks and business houses +that flanked the wide street, where the roaring and clanging of the +ubiquitous trolley cars resounded. + +Honora could not define her sensations--excitement and shame and fear +and hope and joy were so commingled. The colours of the red and yellow +brick had never been so brilliant in the sunshine. They stopped before +the new court-house and climbed the granite steps. In her sensitive +state, Honora thought that some of the people paused to look after +them, and that some were smiling. One woman, she thought, looked +compassionate. Within, they crossed the marble pavement, the Honourable +Dave handed her into an elevator, and when it stopped she followed him +as in a dream to an oak-panelled door marked with a legend she did not +read. Within was an office, with leather chairs, a large oak desk, a +spittoon, and portraits of grave legal gentlemen on the wall. + +"This is Judge Whitman's office," explained the Honourable Dave. "He'll +let you stay here until the case is called." + +"Is he the judge--before whom--the case is to be tried?" asked Honora. + +"He surely is," answered the Honourable Dave. "Whitman's a good friend +of mine. In fact, I may say, without exaggeration, I had something to do +with his election. Now you mustn't get flustered," he added. "It isn't +anything like as bad as goin' to the dentist. It don't amount to shucks, +as we used to say in Missouri." + +With these cheerful words of encouragement he slipped out of a side +door into what was evidently the court room, for Honora heard a droning. +After a long interval he reappeared and beckoned her with a crooked +finger. She arose and followed him into the court room. + +All was bustle and confusion there, and her counsel whispered that they +were breaking up for the day. The judge was stretching himself; +several men who must have been lawyers, and with whom Mr. Beckwith was +exchanging amenities behind the railing, were arranging their books and +papers; some of the people were leaving, and others talking in groups +about the room. The Honourable Dave whispered to the judge, a tall, +lank, cadaverous gentleman with iron-grey hair, who nodded. Honora was +led forward. The Honourable Dave, standing very close to the judge and +some distance from her, read in a low voice something that she could not +catch--supposedly the petition. It was all quite as vague to Honora +as the trial of the Jack of Hearts; the buzzing of the groups still +continued around the court room, and nobody appeared in the least +interested. This was a comfort, though it robbed the ceremony of all +vestige of reality. It seemed incredible that the majestic and awful +Institution of the ages could be dissolved with no smoke or fire, with +such infinite indifference, and so much spitting. What was the use of +all the pomp and circumstance and ceremony to tie the knot if it could +be cut in the routine of a day's business? + +The solemn fact that she was being put under oath meant nothing to +her. This, too, was slurred and mumbled. She found herself, trembling, +answering questions now from her counsel, now from the judge; and it +is to be doubted to this day whether either heard her answers. Most +convenient and considerate questions they were. When and where she was +married, how long she had lived with her husband, what happened when +they ceased to live together, and had he failed ever since to contribute +to her support? Mercifully, Mr. Beckwith was in the habit of coaching +his words beforehand. A reputable citizen of Salomon City was produced +to prove her residence, and somebody cried out something, not loudly, +in which she heard the name of Spence mentioned twice. The judge said, +"Take your decree," and picked up a roll of papers and walked away. +Her knees became weak, she looked around her dizzily, and beheld the +triumphant professional smile of the Honourable Dave Beckwith. + +"It didn't hurt much, did it?" he asked. "Allow me to congratulate you." + +"Is it--is it all over?" she said, quite dazed. + +"Just like that," he said. "You're free." + +"Free!" The word rang in her ears as she drove back to the little house +that had been her home. The Honourable Dave lifted his felt hat as he +handed her out of the carriage, and said he would call again in the +evening to see if he could do anything further for her. Mathilde, who +had been watching from the window, opened the door, and led her mistress +into the parlour. + +"It's--it's all over, Mathilde," she said. + +"Mon dieu, madame," said Mathilde, "c'est simple comme bonjour!" + + + + +Volume 7. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. IN WHICH IT IS ALL DONE OVER AGAIN + +All morning she had gazed on the shining reaches of the Hudson, their +colour deepening to blue as she neared the sea. A gold-bound volume of +Shelley, with his name on the fly-leaf, lay in her lap. And two lines +she repeated softly to herself--two lines that held a vision: + + "He was as the sun in his fierce youth, + As terrible and lovely as a tempest;" + +She summoned him out of the chaos of the past, and the past became the +present, and he stood before her as though in the flesh. Nay, she heard +his voice, his laugh, she even recognized again the smouldering flames +in his eyes as he glanced into hers, and his characteristic manners and +gestures. Honora wondered. In vain, during those long months of exile +had she tried to reconstruct him thus the vision in its entirety would +not come: rare, fleeting, partial, and tantalizing glimpses she had been +vouchsafed, it is true. The whole of him had been withheld until this +breathless hour before the dawn of her happiness. + +Yet, though his own impatient spirit had fared forth to meet her with +this premature gift of his attributes, she had to fight the growing fear +within her. Now that the days of suffering were as they had not been, +insistent questions dinned in her ears: was she entitled to the joys to +come? What had she done to earn them? Had hers not been an attempt, on +a gigantic scale, to cheat the fates? Nor could she say whether this +feeling were a wholly natural failure to grasp a future too big, or +the old sense of the unreality of events that had followed her so +persistently. + +The Hudson disappeared. Factories, bridges, beflagged week-end resorts, +ramshackle houses, and blocks of new buildings were scattered here and +there. The train was running on a causeway between miles of tenements +where women and children, overtaken by lassitude, hung out of the +windows: then the blackness of the tunnel, and Honora closed her eyes. +Four minutes, three minutes, two minutes.... The motion ceased. At the +steps of the car a uniformed station porter seized her bag; and she +started to walk down the long, narrow platform. Suddenly she halted. + +"Drop anything, Miss?" inquired the porter. + +"No," answered Honora, faintly. He looked at her in concern, and she +began to walk on again, more slowly. + +It had suddenly come over her that the man she was going to meet she +scarcely knew! Shyness seized her, a shyness that bordered on panic. And +what was he really like, that she should put her whole trust in him? +She glanced behind her: that way was closed: she had a mad desire to +get away, to hide, to think. It must have been an obsession that had +possessed her all these months. The porter was looking again, and he +voiced her predicament. + +"There's only one way out, Miss." + +And then, amongst the figures massed behind the exit in the grill, she +saw him, his face red-bronze with the sea tan, his crisp, curly head +bared, his eyes alight with a terrifying welcome; and a tremor of a fear +akin to ecstasy ran through her: the fear of the women of days gone by +whose courage carried them to the postern or the strand, and fainted +there. She could have taken no step farther--and there was no need. New +strength flowed from the hand she held that was to carry her on and on. + +He spoke her name. He led her passive, obedient, through the press to +the side street, and then he paused and looked into her burning face. + +"I have you at last," he said. "Are you happy?" + +"I don't know," she faltered. "Oh, Hugh, it all seems so strange! I +don't know what I have done." + +"I know," he said exultantly; "but to save my soul I can't believe it." + +She watched him, bewildered, while he put her maid into a cab, and by an +effort roused herself. + +"Where are you going, Hugh?" + +"To get married," he replied promptly. + +She pulled down her veil. + +"Please be sensible," she implored. "I've arranged to go to a hotel." + +"What hotel?" + +"The--the Barnstable," she said. The place had come to her memory on +the train. "It's very nice and--and quiet--so I've been told. And I've +telegraphed for my rooms." + +"I'll humour you this once," he answered, and gave the order. + +She got into the carriage. It had blue cushions with the familiar smell +of carriage upholstery, and the people in the street still hurried +about their business as though nothing in particular were happening. +The horses started, and some forgotten key in her brain was touched as +Chiltern raised her veil again. + +"You'll tear it, Hugh," she said, and perforce lifted it herself. Her +eyes met his--and she awoke. Not to memories or regrets, but to the +future, for the recording angel had mercifully destroyed his book. + +"Did you miss me?" she said. + +"Miss you! My God, Honora, how can you ask? When I look back upon these +last months, I don't see how I ever passed through them. And you are +changed," he said. "I could not have believed it possible, but you are. +You are--you are finer." + +He had chosen his word exquisitely. And then, as they trotted sedately +through Madison Avenue, he strained her in his arms and kissed her. + +"Oh, Hugh!" she cried, scarlet, as she disengaged, herself, "you +mustn't--here!" + +"You're free!" he exclaimed. "You're mine at last! I can't believe it! +Look at me, and tell me so." + +She tried. + +"Yes," she faltered. + +"Yes--what?" + +"Yes. I--I am yours." + +She looked out of the window to avoid those eyes. Was this New York, or +Jerusalem? Were these the streets through which she had driven and trod +in her former life? Her whole soul cried out denial. No episode, +no accusing reminiscences stood out--not one: the very corners were +changed. Would it all change back again if he were to lessen the +insistent pressure on the hand in her lap. + +"Honora?" + +"Yes?" she answered, with a start. + +"You missed me? Look at me and tell me the truth." + +"The truth!" she faltered, and shuddered. The contrast was too +great--the horror of it too great for her to speak of. The pen of Dante +had not been adequate. "Don't ask me, Hugh," she begged, "I can't talk +about it--I never shall be able to talk about it. If I had not loved +you, I should have died." + +How deeply he felt and understood and sympathized she knew by the +quivering pressure on her hand. Ah, if he had not! If he had failed to +grasp the meaning of her purgatory. + +"You are wonderful, Honora," was what he said in a voice broken by +emotion. + +She thanked him with one fleeting, tearful glance that was as a grant +of all her priceless possessions. The carriage stopped, but it was some +moments before they realized it. + +"You may come up in a little while," she whispered, "and lunch with +me--if you like." + +"If I like!" he repeated. + +But she was on the sidewalk, following the bell boy into the cool, +marble-lined area of the hotel. A smiling clerk handed her a pen, and +set the new universe to rocking. + +"Mrs. Leffingwell, I presume? We have your telegram." + +Mrs. Leffingwell! Who was that person? For an instant she stood blankly +holding the pen, and then she wrote rapidly, if a trifle unsteadily: +"Mrs. Leffingwell and maid." A pause. Where was her home? Then she added +the words, "St. Louis." + +Her rooms were above the narrow canon of the side street, looking over +the roofs of the inevitable brownstone fronts opposite. While Mathilde, +in the adjoining chamber, unpacked her bag, Honora stood gazing out of +the sitting-room windows, trying to collect her thoughts. Her spirits +had unaccountably fallen, the sense of homelessness that had pursued +her all these months overtaken her once more. Never, never, she told +herself, would she enter a hotel again alone; and when at last he came +she clung to him with a passion that thrilled him the more because he +could not understand it. + +"Hugh--you will care for me?" she cried. + +He kissed away her tears. He could not follow her; he only knew that +what he held to him was a woman such as he had never known before. +Tender, and again strangely and fiercely tender: an instrument of such +miraculous delicacy as to respond, quivering, to the lightest touch; +an harmonious and perfect blending of strength and weakness, of joy and +sorrow,--of all the warring elements in the world. What he felt was the +supreme masculine joy of possession. + +At last they sat down on either side of the white cloth the waiter had +laid, for even the gods must eat. Not that our deified mortals ate much +on this occasion. Vesta presided once more, and after the feast was over +gently led them down the slopes until certain practical affairs began to +take shape in the mind of the man. Presently he looked at his watch, and +then at the woman, and made a suggestion. + +"Marry you now--this of afternoon!" she cried, aghast. "Hugh, are you in +your right senses?" + +"Yes," he said, "I'm reasonable for the first time in my life." + +She laughed, and immediately became serious. But when she sought to +marshal her arguments, she found that they had fled. + +"Oh, but I couldn't," she answered. "And besides, there are so many +things I ought to do. I--I haven't any clothes." + +But this was a plea he could not be expected to recognize. He saw no +reason why she could not buy as many as she wanted after the ceremony. + +"Is that all?" he demanded. + +"No--that isn't all. Can't you see that--that we ought to wait, Hugh?" + +"No," he exclaimed, "No I can't see it. I can only see that every +moment of waiting would be a misery for us both. I can only see that the +situation, as it is to-day, is an intolerable one for you." + +She had not expected him to see this. + +"There are others to be thought of," she said, after a moment's +hesitation. + +"What others?" + +The answer she should have made died on her lips. + +"It seems so-indecorous, Hugh." + +"Indecorous!" he cried, and pushed back his chair and rose. "What's +indecorous about it? To leave you here alone in a hotel in New York +would not only be indecorous, but senseless. How long would you put it +off? a week--a month--a year? Where would you go in the meantime, and +what would you do?" + +"But your friends, Hugh--and mine?" + +"Friends! What have they got to do with it?" + +It was the woman, now, who for a moment turned practical--and for the +man's sake. She loved, and the fair fabric of the future which they were +to weave together, and the plans with which his letters had been filled +and of which she had dreamed in exile, had become to-day as the stuff of +which moonbeams are made. As she looked up at him, eternity itself did +not seem long enough for the fulfilment of that love. But he? Would +the time not come when he would demand something more? and suppose that +something were denied? She tried to rouse herself, to think, to consider +a situation in which her instinct had whispered just once--there must +be some hidden danger: but the electric touch of his hand destroyed the +process, and made her incapable of reason. + +"What should we gain by a week's or a fortnight's delay," he was saying, +"except so much misery?" + +She looked around the hotel sitting-room, and tried to imagine the +desolation of it, stripped of his presence. Why not? There was reason +in what he said. And yet, if she had known it, it was not to reason she +yielded, but to the touch of his hand. + +"We will be married to-day," he decreed. "I have planned it all. I have +bought the 'Adhemar', the yacht which I chartered last winter. She is +here. We'll go off on her together, away from the world, for as long +as you like. And then," he ended triumphantly, "then we'll go back to +Grenoble and begin our life." + +"And begin our life!" she repeated. But it was not to him that she +spoke. "Hugh, I positively have to have some clothes." + +"Clothes!" His voice expressed his contempt for the mundane thought. + +"Yes, clothes," she repeated resolutely. + +He looked at his watch once more. + +"Very well," he said, "we'll get 'em on the way." + +"On the way?" she asked. + +"We'll have to have a marriage license, I'm afraid," he explained +apologetically. + +Honora grew crimson. A marriage license! + +She yielded, of course. Who could resist him? Nor need the details of +that interminable journey down the crowded artery of Broadway to the +Centre of Things be entered into. An ignoble errand, Honora thought; and +she sat very still, with flushed cheeks, in the corner of the carriage. +Chiltern's finer feelings came to her rescue. He, too, resented this +senseless demand of civilization as an indignity to their Olympian +loves. And he was a man to chafe at all restraints. But at last the +odious thing was over, grim and implacable Law satisfied after he had +compelled them to stand in line for an interminable period before his +grill, and mingle with those whom he chose, in his ignorance, to call +their peers. Honora felt degraded as they emerged with the hateful +paper, bought at such a price. The City Hall Park, with its moving +streams of people, etched itself in her memory. + +"Leave me, Hugh," she said; "I will take this carriage--you must get +another one." + +For once, he accepted his dismissal with comparative meekness. + +"When shall I come?" he asked. + +"She smiled a little, in spite of herself. + +"You may come for me at six o'clock," she replied. + +"Six o'clock!" he exclaimed; but accepted with resignation and closed +the carriage door. Enigmatical sex! + +Enigmatical sex indeed! Honora spent a feverish afternoon, rest and +reflection being things she feared. An afternoon in familiar places; and +(strangest of all facts to be recorded!) memories and regrets troubled +her not at all. Her old dressmakers, her old milliners, welcomed her +as one risen, radiant, from the grave; risen, in their estimation, to +a higher life. Honora knew this, and was indifferent to the wealth of +meaning that lay behind their discretion. Milliners and dressmakers read +the newspapers and periodicals--certain periodicals. Well they knew that +the lady they flattered was the future Mrs. Hugh Chiltern. + +Nothing whatever of an indelicate nature happened. There was no mention +of where to send the bill, or of whom to send it to. Such things as +she bought on the spot were placed in her carriage. And happiest of +all omissions, she met no one she knew. The praise that Madame Barriere +lavished on Honora's figure was not flattery, because the Paris models +fitted her to perfection. A little after five she returned to her hotel, +to a Mathilde in a high state of suppressed excitement. And at six, +the appointed fateful hour, arrayed in a new street gown of dark green +cloth, she stood awaiting him. + +He was no laggard. The bell on the church near by was still singing from +the last stroke when he knocked, flung open the door, and stood for a +moment staring at her. Not that she had been shabby when he had wished +to marry her at noon: no self-respecting woman is ever shabby; not that +her present costume had any of the elements of overdress; far from it. +Being a woman, she had her thrill of triumph at his exclamation. Diana +had no need, perhaps, of a French dressmaker, but it is an open question +whether she would have scorned them. Honora stood motionless, but her +smile for him was like the first quivering shaft of day. He opened +a box, and with a strange mixture of impetuosity and reverence came +forward. And she saw that he held in his hand a string of great, +glistening pearls. + +"They were my mother's," he said. "I have had them restrung--for you." + +"Oh, Hugh!" she cried. She could find no words to express the tremor +within. And she stood passively, her eyes half closed, while he clasped +the string around the lace collar that pressed the slender column of her +neck and kissed her. + +Even the humble beings who work in hotels are responsive to unusual +disturbances in the ether. At the Barnstable, a gala note prevailed: +bell boys, porters, clerk, and cashier, proud of their sudden wisdom, +were wreathed in smiles. A new automobile, in Chiltern's colours, with +his crest on the panel, was panting beside the curb. + +"I meant to have had it this morning," he apologized as he handed her +in, "but it wasn't ready in time." + +Honora heard him, and said something in reply. She tried in vain to +rouse herself from the lethargy into which she had fallen, to cast off +the spell. Up Fifth Avenue they sped, past meaningless houses, to the +Park. The crystal air of evening was suffused with the level evening +light; and as they wound in and out under the spreading trees she caught +glimpses across the shrubbery of the deepening blue of waters. Pools of +mystery were her eyes. + +The upper West Side is a definite place on the map, and full, +undoubtedly, of palpitating human joys and sorrows. So far as Honora was +concerned, it might have been Bagdad. The automobile had stopped before +a residence, and she found herself mounting the steps at Chiltern's +side. A Swedish maid opened the door. + +"Is Mr. White at home?" Chiltern asked. + +It seemed that "the Reverend Mr. White" was. He appeared, a portly +gentleman with frock coat and lawn tie who resembled the man in the +moon. His head, like polished ivory, increased the beaming effect of his +welcome, and the hand that pressed Honora's was large and soft and warm. +But dreams are queer things, in which no events surprise us. + +The reverend gentleman, as he greeted Chiltern, pronounced his name with +unction. His air of hospitality, of good-fellowship, of taking the world +as he found it, could not have been improved upon. He made it apparent +at once that nothing could surprise him. It was the most natural +circumstance in life that two people should arrive at his house in an +automobile at half-past six in the evening and wish to get married: +if they chose this method instead of the one involving awnings and +policemen and uncomfortably-arrayed relations and friends, it was none +of Mr. White's affair. He led them into the Gothic sanctum at the +rear of the house where the famous sermons were written that shook the +sounding-board of the temple where the gentleman preached,--the sermons +that sometimes got into the newspapers. Mr. White cleared his throat. + +"I am--very familiar with your name, Mr. Chiltern," he said, "and it is +a pleasure to be able to serve you, and the lady who is so shortly to +be your wife. Your servant arrived with your note at four o'clock. Ten +minutes later, and I should have missed him." + +And then Honora heard Chiltern saying somewhat coldly:--"In order to +save time, Mr. White, I wish to tell you that Mrs. Leffingwell has been +divorced--" + +The Reverend Mr. White put up a hand before him, and looked down at the +carpet, as one who would not dwell upon painful things. + +"Unfortunate--ahem--mistakes will occur in life, Mr. Chiltern--in the +best of lives," he replied. "Say no more about it. I am sure, looking at +you both--" + +"Very well then," said Chiltern brusquely, "I knew you would have to +know. And here," he added, "is an essential paper." + +A few minutes later, in continuation of the same strange dream, +Honora was standing at Chiltern's side and the Reverend Mr. White was +addressing them: What he said--apart of it at least--seemed curiously +familiar. Chiltern put a ring on a finger of her ungloved hand. It was a +supreme moment in her destiny--this she knew. Between her responses she +repeated it to herself, but the mighty fact refused to be registered. +And then, suddenly, rang out the words: + + "Those whom God hath joined together let no man Put asunder." + +Those whom God hath joined together! Mr. White was congratulating +her. Other people were in the room--the minister's son, his wife, his +brother-in-law. She was in the street again, in the automobile, +without knowing how she got there, and Chiltern close beside her in the +limousine. + +"My wife!" he whispered. + +Was she? Could it be true, be lasting, be binding for ever and ever? Her +hand pressed his convulsively. + +"Oh, Hugh!" she cried, "care for me--stay by me forever. Will you +promise?" + +"I promise, Honora," he repeated. "Henceforth we are one." + +Honora would have prolonged forever that honeymoon on summer seas. In +those blissful days she was content to sit by the hour watching him as, +bareheaded in the damp salt breeze, he sailed the great schooner and +gave sharp orders to the crew. He was a man who would be obeyed, and +even his flashes of temper pleased her. He was her master, too, and she +gloried in the fact. By the aid of the precious light within her, she +studied him. + +He loved her mightily, fiercely, but withal tenderly. With her alone he +was infinitely tender, and it seemed that something in him cried out for +battle against the rest of the world. He had his way, in port and out +of it. He brooked no opposition, and delighted to carry, against his +captain's advice, more canvas than was wise when it blew heavily. But +the yacht, like a woman, seemed a creature of his will; to know no fear +when she felt his guiding hand, even though the green water ran in the +scuppers. + +And every day anew she scanned his face, even as he scanned the face +of the waters. What was she searching for? To have so much is to become +miserly, to fear lest a grain of the precious store be lost. On the +second day they had anchored, for an hour or two, between the sandy +headlands of a small New England port, and she had stood on the deck +watching his receding figure under the flag of the gasoline launch as +it made its way towards the deserted wharves. Beyond the wharves was an +elm-arched village street, and above the verdure rose the white cupola +of the house of some prosperous sea-captain of bygone times. Honora had +not wished to go ashore. First he had begged, and then he had laughed as +he had leaped into the launch. She lay in a chaise longue, watching it +swinging idly at the dock. + +The night before he had written letters and telegrams. Once he had +looked up at her as she sat with a book in her hand across the saloon, +and caught her eyes. She had been pretending not to watch him. + +"Wedding announcements," he said. + +And she had smiled back at him bravely. Such was the first +acknowledgment between them that the world existed. + +"A little late," he observed, smiling in his turn as he changed his +pen, "but they'll have to make allowances for the exigencies of the +situation. And they've been after me to settle down for so many years +that they ought to be thankful to get them at all. I've told them that +after a decent period they may come to Grenoble--in the late autumn. We +don't want anybody before then, do we, Honora?" + +"No," she said faintly; and added, "I shall always be satisfied with you +alone, Hugh." + +He laughed happily, and presently she went up on deck and stood with her +face to the breeze. There were no sounds save the musical beat of the +water against the strakes, and the low hum of wind on the towering +vibrant sails. One moulten silver star stood out above all others. To +the northward, somewhere beyond the spot where sea and sky met in the +hidden kiss of night, was Newport,--were his relations and her friends. +What did they think? He, at least, had no anxieties about the world, +why should she? Their defiance of it had been no greater than that of +an hundred others on whom it had smiled benignly. But had not the others +truckled more to its conventions? Little she cared about it, indeed, and +if he had turned the prow of the 'Adhemar' towards the unpeopled places +of the earth, her joy would have been untroubled. + +One after another the days glided by, while with the sharpened senses of +a great love she watched for a sign of the thing that slept in him--of +the thing that had driven him home from his wanderings to re-create his +life. When it awoke, she would have to share him; now he was hers +alone. Her feelings towards this thing did not assume the proportions +of jealousy or fear; they were merely alert, vaguely disquieting. The +sleeping thing was not a monster. No, but it might grow into one, if its +appetite were not satisfied, and blame her. + +She told herself that, had he lacked ambition, she could not have +loved him, and did not stop to reflect upon the completeness of her +satisfaction with the Viking. He seemed, indeed, in these weeks, one +whom the sea has marked for its own, and her delight in watching him as +he moved about the boat never palled. His nose reminded her of the prow +of a ship of war, and his deep-set eyes were continually searching the +horizon for an enemy. Such were her fancies. In the early morning +when he donned his sleeveless bathing suit, she could never resist the +temptation to follow him on deck to see him plunge into the cold ocean: +it gave her a delightful little shiver--and he was made like one of the +gods of Valhalla. + +She had discovered, too, in these intimate days, that he had the +Northman's temperament; she both loved and dreaded his moods. And +sometimes, when the yacht glided over smoother seas, it was his pleasure +to read to her, even poetry and the great epics. That he should be fond +of the cruel Scotch ballads she was not surprised; but his familiarity +with the book of Job, and his love for it, astonished her. It was a +singular library that he had put on board the 'Adhemar'. + +One evening when the sails flapped idly and the blocks rattled, when +they had been watching in silence the flaming orange of the sunset above +the amethystine Camden hills, he spoke the words for which she had been +waiting. + +"Honora, what do you say to going back to Grenoble?" + +She succeeded in smiling at him. + +"Whenever you like, Hugh," she said. + +So the bowsprit of the 'Adhemar' was turned homewards; and with every +league of water they left behind them his excitement and impatience +seemed to grow. + +"I can't wait to show it to you, Honora--to see you in it," he +exclaimed. "I have so long pictured you there, and our life as it will +be." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE ENTRANCE INTO EDEN + +They had travelled through the night, and in the early morning left the +express at a junction. Honora sat in the straight-backed seat of the +smaller train with parted lips and beating heart, gazing now and again +at the pearly mists rising from the little river valley they were +climbing. Chiltern was like a schoolboy. + +"We'll soon be there," he cried, but it was nearly nine o'clock when +they reached the Gothic station that marked the end of the line. It +was a Chiltern line, he told her, and she was already within the feudal +domain. Time indeed that she awoke! She reached the platform to confront +a group of upturned, staring faces, and for the moment her courage +failed her. Somehow, with Chiltern's help, she made her way to a waiting +omnibus backed up against the boards. The footman touched his hat, the +grey-headed coachman saluted, and they got in. As the horses started off +at a quick trot, Honora saw that the group on the station platform had +with one consent swung about to stare after them. + +They passed through the main street of the town, lined with plate-glass +windows and lively signs, and already bustling with the business of the +day, through humbler thoroughfares, and presently rumbled over a bridge +that spanned a rushing stream confined between the foundation walls of +mills. Hundreds of yards of mills stretched away on either side; mills +with windows wide open, and within them Honora heard the clicking and +roaring of machinery, and saw the men and women at their daily tasks. +Life was a strange thing that they should be doing this while she should +be going to live in luxury at a great country place. On one of the walls +she read the legend Chiltern and Company. + +"They still keep our name," said Hugh, "although they are in the trust." + +He pointed out to her, with an air of pride, every landmark by the +roadside. In future they were to have a new meaning--they were to be +shared with her. And he spoke of the times--as child and youth, home +from the seashore or college, he had driven over the same road. It wound +to the left, behind the mills, threaded a village of neat wooden houses +where the better class of operatives lived, reached the river again, and +turned at last through a brick gateway, past a lodge in the dense +shade of sheltering boughs, into a wooded drive that climbed, by gentle +degrees, a slope. Human care for generations had given to the place a +tradition. People had lived here and loved those trees--his people. And +could it be that she was to inherit all this, with him? Was her name +really Chiltern? + +The beating of her heart became a pain when in the distance through the +spreading branches she caught a glimpse of the long, low outline of the +house, a vision at once familiar and unreal. How often in the months +gone by had she called up the memory of the photograph she had once +seen, only to doubt the more that she should ever behold that house and +these trees with him by her side! They drew up before the door, and +a venerable, ruddy-faced butler stood gravely on the steps to welcome +them. Hugh leaped out. He was still the schoolboy. + +"Starling," he said, "this is Mrs. Chiltern." + +Honora smiled tremulously. + +"How do you do, Starling?" she said. + +"Starling's an old friend, Honora. He's been here ever since I can +remember." + +The blue eyes of the old servant were fixed on her with a strange, +searching expression. Was it compassion she read in them, on this that +should be the happiest of her days? In that instant, unaccountably, her +heart went out to the old man; and something of what he had seen, +and something of what was even now passing within him, came to her +intuitively. It was as though, unexpectedly, she had found a friend--and +a friend who had had no previous intentions of friendship. + +"I'm sure I wish you happiness, madame,--and Mr. Hugh, he said in a +voice not altogether firm. + +"Happiness!" cried Hugh. "I've never known what it was before now, +Starling." + +The old man's eyes glistened. + +"And you've come to stay, sir?" + +"All my life, Starling," said Hugh. + +They entered the hall. It was wide and cool, white panelled to +the ceiling, with a dark oak floor. At the back of it was an +eighteenth-century stairway, with a band of red carpet running up the +steps, and a wrought-iron guard with a velvet-covered rail. Halfway up, +the stairway divided at a landing, lighted by great triple windows of +small panes. + +"You may have breakfast in half an hour, Starling," said Chiltern, and +led Honora up the stairs into the east wing, where he flung open one +of the high mahogany doors on the south side. "These are your rooms, +Honora. I have had Keller do them all over for you, and I hope you'll +like them. If you don't, we'll change them again." + +Her answer was an exclamation of delight. There was a bedroom in pink, +with brocaded satin on the walls, and an oriel window thrust out over +the garden; a panelled boudoir at the corner of the house, with a marble +mantel before which one of Marie Antoinette's duchesses had warmed her +feet; and shelves lined with gold-lettered books. From its windows, +across the flowering shrubbery and through the trees, she saw the +gleaming waters of a lake, and the hills beyond. From this view she +turned, and caught her breath, and threw her arms about her husband's +neck. He was astonished to see that her eyes were filled with tears. + +"Oh, Hugh," she cried, "it's too perfect! It almost makes me afraid." + +"We will be very happy, dearest," he said, and as he kissed her he +laughed at the fates. + +"I hope so--I pray so," she said, as she clung to him. "But--don't +laugh,--I can't bear it." + +He patted her cheek. + +"What a strange little girl you are!" he said. "I suppose I shouldn't be +mad about you if you weren't that way. Sometimes I wonder how many women +I have married." + +She smiled at him through her tears. + +"Isn't that polygamy, Hugh?" she asked. + +It was all like a breathless tale out of one of the wonder books of +youth. So, at least, it seemed to Honora as she stood, refreshed with +a new white linen gown, hesitating on the threshold of her door before +descending. Some time the bell must ring, or the cock crow, or the fairy +beckon with a wand, and she would have to go back. Back where? She did +not know--she could not remember. Cinderella dreaming by the embers, +perhaps. + +He was awaiting her in the little breakfast room, its glass casements +open to the garden with the wall and the round stone seat. The simmering +urn, the white cloth, the shining silver, the big green melons that +the hot summer sun had ripened for them alone, and Hugh's eyes as they +rested on her--such was her illusion. Nor was it quite dispelled when he +lighted a pipe and they started to explore their Eden, wandering through +chambers with, low ceilings in the old part of the house, and larger, +higher apartments in the portion that was called new. In the great +darkened library, side by side against the Spanish leather on the walls, +hung the portraits of his father and mother in heavy frames of gilt. + +Her husband was pleased that she should remain so long before them. And +for a while, as she stood lost in contemplation, he did not speak. +Once she glanced at him, and then back at the stern face of the +General,--stern, yet kindly. The eyes, deep-set under bushy brows, like +Hugh's, were full of fire; and yet the artist had made them human, too. +A dark, reddish brown, close-trimmed mustache and beard hid the mouth +and chin. Hugh had inherited the nose, but the father's forehead was +wider and fuller. Hugh was at once a newer type, and an older. The +face and figure of the General were characteristic of the mid-century +American of the northern states, a mixture of boldness and caution and +Puritanism, who had won his battles in war and commerce by a certain +native quality of mind. + +"I never appreciated him," said Hugh at length, "until after he +died--long after. Until now, in fact. At times we were good friends, +and then something he would say or do would infuriate me, and I would +purposely make him angry. He had a time and a rule for everything, and I +could not bear rules. Breakfast was on the minute, an hour in his study +to attend to affairs about the place, so many hours in his office at the +mills, in the president's room at the bank, vestry and charity meetings +at regular intervals. No movement in all this country round about was +ever set on foot without him. He was one to be finally reckoned with. +And since his death, many proofs have come to me of the things he did +for people of which the world was ignorant. I have found out at last +that his way of life was, in the main, the right way. But I know now, +Honora," he added soberly, slipping his hand within her arm, "I know now +that without you I never could do all I intend to do." + +"Oh, don't say that!" she cried. "Don't say that!" + +"Why not?" he asked, smiling at her vehemence. "It is not a confession +of weakness. I had the determination, it is true. I could--I should have +done something, but my deeds would have lacked the one thing needful +to lift them above the commonplace--at least for me. You are the +inspiration. With you here beside me, I feel that I can take up this +work with joy. Do you understand?" + +She pressed his hand with her arm. + +"Hugh," she said slowly, "I hope that I shall be a help, and not--not a +hindrance." + +"A hindrance!" he exclaimed. "You don't know, you can't realize, what +you are to me." + +She was silent, and when she lifted her eyes it was to rest them on the +portrait of his mother. And she seemed to read in the sweet, sad eyes a +question--a question not to be put into words. Chiltern, following her +gaze, did not speak: for a space they looked at the portrait together, +and in silence.... + +From one end of the house to the other they went, Hugh reviving at the +sight of familiar objects a hundred memories of his childhood; and she +trying to imagine that childhood, so different from her own, passed +in this wonderful place. In the glass cases of the gun room, among the +shining, blue barrels which he had used in all parts of the world, was +the little shotgun his father had had made for him when he was twelve +years old. Hugh locked the door after them when they came out, and +smiled as he put the key in his pocket. + +"My destroying days are over," he declared. + +Honora put on a linen hat and they took the gravelled path to the +stables, where the horses, one by one, were brought out into the +courtyard for their inspection. In anticipation of this hour there was a +blood bay for Honora, which Chiltern had bought in New York. She gave +a little cry of delight when she saw the horse shining in the sunlight, +his nostrils in the air, his brown eyes clear, his tapering neck +patterned with veins. And then there was the dairy, with the +fawn-coloured cows and calves; and the hillside pastures that ran down +to the river, and the farm lands where the stubbled grain was yellowing. +They came back by the path that wound through the trees and shrubbery +bordering the lake to the walled garden, ablaze in the mellow sunlight +with reds and purples, salvias and zinnias, dahlias, gladioli, and +asters. + +Here he left her for a while, sitting dreamily on the stone bench. Mrs. +Hugh Chiltern, of Grenoble! Over and over she repeated that name to +herself, and it refused somehow to merge with her identity. Yet was she +mistress of this fair domain; of that house which had sheltered them +race for a century, and the lines of which her eye caressed with a +loving reverence; and the Chiltern pearls even then lay hidden around +her throat. + +Her thoughts went back, at this, to the gentle lady to whom they had +belonged, and whose look began again to haunt her. Honora's superstition +startled her. What did it mean, that look? She tried to recall where +she had seen it before, and suddenly remembered that the eyes of the +old butler had held something not unlike it. Compassionate--this was +the only word that would describe it. No, it had not proclaimed her an +intruder, though it may have been ready to do so the moment before +her appearance; for there was a note of surprise in it--surprise and +compassion. + +This was the lady in whose footsteps she was to walk, whose charities +and household cares she was to assume! Tradition, order, observance, +responsibility, authority it was difficult to imagine these as a logical +part of the natural sequence of her life. She would begin to-day, if +God would only grant her these things she had once contemned, and that +seemed now so precious. Her life--her real life would begin to-day. Why +not? How hard she would strive to be worthy of this incomparable gift! +It was hers, hers! She listened, but the only answer was the humming of +the bees in the still September morning. + +Chiltern's voice aroused her. He was standing in the breakfast room +talking to the old butler. + +"You're sure there were no other letters, Starling, besides these +bills?" + +Honora became tense. + +"No, sir," she heard the butler say, and she seemed to detect in his +deferential voice the note of anxiety suppressed in the other's. "I'm +most particular about letters, sir, as one who lived so many years with +your father would be. All that came were put in your study, Mr. Hugh." + +"It doesn't matter," answered Chiltern, carelessly, and stepped out into +the garden. He caught sight of her, hesitated the fraction of a moment, +and as he came forward again the cloud in his eyes vanished. And yet she +was aware that he was regarding her curiously. + +"What," he said gayly, "still here?" + +"It is too beautiful!" she cried. "I could sit here forever." + +She lifted her face trustfully, smilingly, to his, and he stooped down +and kissed it.... + +To give the jealous fates not the least chance to take offence, the +higher life they were to lead began at once. And yet it seemed at times +to Honora as though this higher life were the gift the fates would most +begrudge: a gift reserved for others, the pretensions to which were a +kind of knavery. Merriment, forgetfulness, music, the dance; the cup of +pleasure and the feast of Babylon--these might more readily have been +vouchsafed; even deemed to have been bargained for. But to take that +which supposedly had been renounced--virtue, sobriety, security, +respect--would this be endured? She went about it breathlessly, like a +thief. + +Never was there a more exemplary household. They rose at half-past +seven, they breakfasted at a quarter after eight; at nine, young Mr. +Manning, the farm superintendent, was in waiting, and Hugh spent two +or more hours in his company, inspecting, correcting, planning; for +two thousand acres of the original Chiltern estate still remained. Two +thousand acres which, since the General's death, had been at sixes and +sevens. The General's study, which was Hugh's now, was piled high with +new and bulky books on cattle and cultivation of the soil. Government +and state and private experts came and made tests and went away again; +new machinery arrived, and Hugh passed hours in the sun, often with +Honora by his side, installing it. General Chiltern had been president +and founder of the Grenoble National Bank, and Hugh took up his duties +as a director. + +Honora sought, with an energy that had in it an element of desperation, +to keep pace with her husband. For she was determined that he should +have no interests in which she did not share. In those first days it was +her dread that he might grow away from her, and instinct told her that +now or never must the effort be made. She, too, studied farming; not +from books, but from him. In their afternoon ride along the shady river +road, which was the event of her day, she encouraged him to talk of his +plans and problems, that he might thus early form the habit of bringing +them to her. And the unsuspecting male in him responded, innocent of the +simple subterfuge. After an exhaustive discourse on the elements lacking +in the valley soil, to which she had listened in silent intensity, he +would exclaim: + +"By George, Honora, you're a continual surprise to me. I had no idea a +woman would take an interest in these things, or grasp them the way you +do." + +Lordly commendations these, and she would receive them with a flush of +gratitude. + +Nor was it ever too hot, or she too busy with household cares, for her +to follow him to the scene of his operations, whatever these might be: +she would gladly stand for an hour listening to a consultation with the +veterinary about an ailing cow. Her fear was lest some matter of like +importance should escape her. She had private conversations with +Mr. Manning, that she might surprise her husband by an unsuspected +knowledge. Such were her ruses. + +The housekeeper who had come up from New York was the subject of a +conjugal conversation. + +"I am going to send her away, Hugh," Honora announced. "I don't +believe---your mother had one." + +The housekeeper's departure was the beginning of Honora's real intimacy +with Starling. Complicity, perhaps, would be a better word for the +commencement of this relationship. First of all, there was an +inspection of the family treasures: the table-linen, the silver, and +the china--Sevres, Royal Worcester, and Minton, and the priceless +dinner-set, of Lowestoft which had belonged to Alexander Chiltern, +reserved, for great occasions only: occasions that Starling knew by +heart; their dates, and the guests the Lowestoft had honoured. His air +was ceremonial as he laid, reverently, the sample pieces on the table +before her, but it seemed to Honora that he spoke as one who recalls +departed glories, who held a conviction that the Lowestoft would never +be used again. + +Although by unalterable custom he submitted, at breakfast, the menus +of the day to Hugh, the old butler came afterwards to Honora's boudoir +during her struggle with the account books. Sometimes she would look up +and surprise his eyes fixed upon her, and one day she found at her elbow +a long list made out in a painstaking hand. + +"What's this, Starling?" she asked. + +"If you please, madame," he answered, "they're the current prices in the +markets--here." + +She thanked him. Nor was his exquisite delicacy in laying stress upon +the locality lost upon her. That he realized the magnitude--for her--of +the task to which she had set herself; that he sympathized deeply with +the spirit which had undertaken it, she was as sure as though he had +said so. He helped her thus in a dozen unobtrusive ways, never once +recognizing her ignorance; but he made her feel the more that that +ignorance was a shameful thing not to be spoken of. Speculations upon +him were irresistible. She was continually forgetting the nature of his +situation, and he grew gradually to typify in her mind the Grenoble +of the past. She knew his principles as well as though he had spoken +them--which he never did. For him, the world had become awry; he +abhorred divorce, and that this modern abomination had touched the house +of Chiltern was a calamity that had shaken the very foundations of +his soul. In spite of this, he had remained. Why? Perhaps from habit, +perhaps from love of the family and Hugh,--perhaps to see! + +And having stayed, fascination had laid hold of him,--of that she was +sure,--and his affections had incomprehensibly become involved. He was +as one assisting at a high tragedy not unworthy of him, the outcome of +which he never for an instant doubted. And he gave Honora the impression +that he alone, inscrutable, could have pulled aside the curtain and +revealed the end. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. OF THE WORLD BEYOND THE GATES + +Honora paused in her toilet, and contemplated for a moment the white +skirt that her maid presented. + +"I think I'll wear the blue pongee to-day, Mathilde," she said. + +The decision for the blue pongee was the culmination of a struggle begun +with the opening of her eyes that morning. It was Sunday, and the time +was at hand when she must face the world. Might it not be delayed a +little while--a week longer? For the remembrance of the staring eyes +which had greeted her on her arrival at the station at Grenoble troubled +her. It seemed to her a cruel thing that the house of God should hold +such terrors for her: to-day she had a longing for it that she had never +felt in her life before. + +Chiltern was walking in the garden, waiting for her to breakfast with +him, and her pose must have had in it an element of the self-conscious +when she appeared, smilingly, at the door. + +"Why, you're all dressed up," he said. + +"It's Sunday, Hugh." + +"So it is," he agreed, with what may have been a studied lightness--she +could not tell. + +"I'm going to church," she said bravely. + +"I can't say much for old Stopford," declared her husband. "His sermons +used to arouse all the original sin in me, when I had to listen to +them." + +She poured out his coffee. + +"I suppose one has to take one's clergyman as one does the weather," she +said. "We go to church for something else besides the sermon--don't we?" + +"I suppose so, if we go at all," he replied. "Old Stopford imposes a +pretty heavy penalty." + +"Too heavy for you?" she asked, and smiled at him as she handed him the +cup. + +"Too heavy for me," he said, returning her smile. "To tell you the +truth, Honora, I had an overdose of church in my youth, here and at +school, and I've been trying to even up ever since." + +"You'd like me to go, wouldn't you, Hugh?" she ventured, after a +silence. + +"Indeed I should," he answered, and again she wondered to what extent +his cordiality was studied, or whether it were studied at all. "I'm very +fond of that church, in spite of the fact that--that I may be said to +dissemble my fondness." She laughed with him, and he became serious. "I +still contribute--the family's share toward its support. My father was +very proud of it, but it is really my mother's church. It was due to her +that it was built." + +Thus was comedy played--and Honora by no the means sure that it was a +comedy. Even her alert instinct had not been able to detect the acting, +and the intervening hours were spent in speculating whether her fears +had not been overdone. Nevertheless, under the eyes of Starling, at +twenty minutes to eleven she stepped into the victoria with an outward +courage, and drove down the shady avenue towards the gates. Sweet-toned +bells were ringing as she reached the residence portion of the town, +and subdued pedestrians in groups and couples made their way along the +sidewalks. They stared at her; and she in turn, with heightened colour, +stared at her coachman's back. After all, this first Sunday would be the +most difficult. + +The carriage turned into a street arched by old elms, and flanked by +the houses of the most prosperous townspeople. Some of these were of +the old-fashioned, classic type, and others new examples of a national +architecture seeking to find itself,--white and yellow colonial, +roughcast modifications of the Shakespearian period, and nondescript +mixtures of cobblestones and shingles. Each was surrounded by trim lawns +and shrubbery. The church itself was set back from the street. It was of +bluish stone, and half covered with Virginia creeper. + +At this point, had the opportunity for a secret retreat presented +itself, Honora would have embraced it, for until now she had not +realized the full extent of the ordeal. Had her arrival been heralded by +sounding trumpets, the sensation it caused could not have been greater. +In her Eden, the world had been forgotten; the hum of gossip beyond the +gates had not reached her. But now, as the horses approached the curb, +their restive feet clattering on the hard pavement, in the darkened +interior of the church she saw faces turned, and entering worshippers +pausing in the doorway. Something of what the event meant for Grenoble +dawned upon her: something, not all; but all that she could bear. + +If it be true that there is no courage equal to that which a great +love begets in a woman, Honora's at that moment was sublime. Her cheeks +tingled, and her knees weakened under her as she ran the gantlet to the +church door, where she was met by a gentleman on whose face she read +astonishment unalloyed: amazement, perhaps, is not too strong a word for +the sensation it conveyed to her, and it occurred to her afterwards that +there was an element in it of outrage. It was a countenance peculiarly +adapted to such an expression--yellow, smooth-shaven, heavy-jowled, +with one drooping eye; and she needed not to be told that she had +encountered, at the outset, the very pillar of pillars. The frock coat, +the heavy watch chain, the square-toed boots, all combined to make a +Presence. + +An instinctive sense of drama amongst the onlookers seemed to create a +hush, as though these had been the unwilling witnesses to an approaching +collision and were awaiting the crash. The gentleman stood planted in +the inner doorway, his drooping eye fixed on hers. + +"I am Mrs. Chiltern," she faltered. + +He hesitated the fraction of an instant, but he somehow managed to make +it plain that the information was superfluous. He turned without a word +and marched majestically up the aisle before her to the fourth pew from +the front on the right. There he faced about and laid a protesting hand +on the carved walnut, as though absolving himself in the sight of his +God and his fellow-citizens. Honora fell on her knees. + +She strove to calm herself by prayer: but the glances of a congregation +focussed between her shoulder-blades seemed to burn her back, and the +thought of the concentration of so many minds upon her distracted her +own. She could think of no definite prayer. Was this God's tabernacle? +or the market-place, and she at the tail of a cart? And was she not Hugh +Chiltern's wife, entitled to his seat in the place of worship of his +fathers? She rose from her knees, and her eyes fell on the softly +glowing colours of a stained-glass window: In memoriam--Alicia Reyburn +Chiltern. Hugh's mother, the lady in whose seat she sat. + +The organist, a sprightly young man, came in and began turning over his +music, and the choir took their-places, in the old-fashioned' manner. +Then came the clergyman. His beard was white, his face long and narrow +and shrivelled, his forehead protruding, his eyes of the cold blue of +a winter's sky. The service began, and Honora repeated the familiar +prayers which she had learned by heart in childhood--until her attention +was arrested by the words she spoke: "We have offended against Thy holy +laws." Had she? Would not God bless her marriage? It was not until then +that she began to pray with an intensity that blotted out the world that +He would not punish her if she had done wrong in His sight. Surely, +if she lived henceforth in fear of Him, He would let her keep this +priceless love which had come to her! And it was impossible that He +should regard it as an inordinate and sinful affection--since it had +filled her life with light. As the wife of Hugh Chiltern she sought a +blessing. Would God withhold it? He would not, she was sure, if they +lived a sober and a righteous life. He would take that into account, for +He was just. + +Then she grew calmer, and it was not until after the doctrinal sermon +which Hugh had predicted that her heart began to beat painfully once +more, when the gentleman who had conducted her to her seat passed her +the plate. He inspired her with an instinctive fear; and she tried to +imagine, in contrast, the erect and soldierly figure of General Chiltern +performing the same office. Would he have looked on her more kindly? + +When the benediction was pronounced, she made her way out of the church +with downcast eyes. The people parted at the door to let her pass, +and she quickened her step, gained the carriage at last, and drove +away--seemingly leaving at her back a buzz of comment. Would she ever +have the courage to do it again? + +The old butler, as he flung open the doors at her approach, seemed to be +scrutinizing her. + +"Where's Mr. Chiltern, Starling?" she asked. + +"He's gone for a ride, madame." + +Hugh had gone for a ride! + +She did not see him until lunch was announced, when he came to the table +in his riding clothes. It may have been that he began to talk a little +eagerly about the excursion he had made to an outlying farm and the +conversation he had had with the farmer who leased it. + +"His lease is out in April," said Chiltern, "and when I told him I +thought I'd turn the land into the rest of the estate he tried to bribe +me into a renewal." + +"Bribe you?" + +Chiltern laughed. + +"Only in joke, of course. The man's a character, and he's something of a +politician in these parts. He intimated that there would be a vacancy +in this congressional district next year, that Grierson was going to +resign, and that a man with a long purse who belonged to the soil might +have a chance. I suppose he thinks I would buy it." + +"And--would you like to go to Congress, Hugh?" + +"Well," he said, smiling, "a man never can tell when he may have to eat +his words. I don't say I shouldn't--in the distant future. It would have +pleased the General. But if I go," he added with characteristic vigour, +"it will be in spite of the politicians, not because of them. If I go I +shan't go bound, and I'll fight for it. I should enjoy that." + +And she was able to accord him the smile of encouragement he expected. + +"I am sure you would," she replied. "I think you might have waited until +this afternoon and taken me," she reproached him. "You know how I enjoy +going with you to those places." + +It was not until later in the meal that he anticipated, in an admirably +accidental manner, the casual remark she had intended to make about +church. + +"Your predictions were fulfilled," she answered; "the sermon wasn't +thrilling." + +He glanced at her. And instead of avoiding his eyes, she smiled into +them. + +"Did you see the First Citizen of Grenoble?" he inquired. + +"I am sure of it," she laughed, "if he's yellow, with a drooping eye and +a presence; he was kind enough to conduct me to the pew." + +"Yes," he exclaimed, "that's Israel Simpson--you couldn't miss him. How +I used to hate him when I was a boy! I haven't quite got over it yet. I +used to outdo myself to make things uncomfortable for him when he came +up here--I think it was because he always seemed to be truckling. He +was ridiculously servile and polite in those days. He's changed since," +added Hugh, dryly. "He must quite have forgotten by this time that the +General made him." + +"Is--is he so much?" said Honora. + +Her husband laughed. + +"Is it possible that you have seen him and still ask that?" said he. +"He is Grenoble. Once the Chilterns were. He is the head of the honoured +firm of Israel Simpson and Sons, the president of the Grenoble National +Bank, the senior warden of the church, a director in the railway. Twice +a year, in the columns of the New York newspapers dedicated to the +prominent arrivals at the hotels, you may read the name of Israel +Simpson of Grenoble. Three times has he been abroad, respectably +accompanied by Maria, who invariably returns to read a paper on the +cathedrals and art before the Woman's Club." + +"Maria is his wife, I suppose." + +"Yes. Didn't you run across Maria? She's quite as pronounced, in her +way, as Israel. A very tower of virtue." + +"I didn't meet anybody, Hugh," said Honora. "I'll--I'll look for her +next Sunday. I hurried out. It was a little embarrassing the first +time," she added, "your family being so prominent in Grenoble." + +Upon this framework, the prominence of his family, she built up during +the coning week a new structure of hope. It was strange she had never +thought before of this quite obvious explanation for the curiosity of +Grenoble. Perhaps--perhaps it was not prejudice, after all--or not +all of it. The wife of the Chiltern heir would naturally inspire +a considerable interest in any event, and Mrs. Hugh Chiltern in +particular. And these people would shortly understand, if they did not +now understand, that Hugh had come back voluntarily and from a sense +of duty to assume the burdens and responsibilities that so many of +his generation and class had shirked. This would tell in their favour, +surely. At this point in her meditations she consulted the mirror, to +behold a modest, slim-waisted young woman becomingly arrayed in white +linen, whose cheeks were aglow with health, whose eyes seemingly +reflected the fire of a distant high vision. Not a Poppaea, certainly, +nor a Delila. No, it was unbelievable that this, the very field itself +of their future labours, should be denied them. Her heart, at the mere +conjecture, turned to stone. + +During the cruise of the Adhemar she had often watched, in the gathering +darkness, those revolving lights on headland or shoal that spread now +a bright band across the sea, and again left the waters desolate in the +night. Thus, ceaselessly revolving from white hope to darker doubt, +were her thoughts, until sometimes she feared to be alone with them, and +surprised him by her presence in his busiest moments. For he was going +ahead on the path they had marked out with a faith in which she could +perceive no flaw. If faint and shadowy forms had already come between +them, he gave no evidence of having as yet discerned these. There was +the absence of news from his family, for instance,--the Graingers, the +Stranger, the Shorters, and the Pendletons, whom she had never seen; +he had never spoken to her of this, and he seemed to hold it as of no +account. Her instinct whispered that it had left its mark, a hidden +mark. And while she knew that consideration for her prompted him to +hold his peace, she told herself that she would have been happier had he +spoken of it. + +Always she was brought back to Grenoble when she saw him thus, manlike, +with his gaze steadily fixed on the task. If New York itself withheld +recognition, could Grenoble--provincial and conservative Grenoble, +preserving still the ideas of the last century for which his family had +so unflinchingly stood--be expected to accord it? New York! New York was +many, many things, she knew. The great house could have been filled from +weekend to week-end from New York; but not with Graingers and Pendletons +and Stranger; not with those around the walls of whose fortresses the +currents of modernity still swept impotently; not with those who, while +not contemning pleasure, still acknowledged duty; not with those whose +assured future was that for which she might have sold her soul itself. +Social free lances, undoubtedly, and unattached men; those who lived in +the world of fashion but were not squeamish--Mrs. Kame, for example; +and ladies like Mrs. Eustace Rindge, who had tried a second throw for +happiness,--such votaries of excitement would undoubtedly have been more +than glad to avail themselves of the secluded hospitality of Grenoble +for that which they would have been pleased to designate as "a lively +time." Honora shuddered at the thought: And, as though the shudder had +been prophetic, one morning the mail contained a letter from Mrs. Kame +herself. + +Mercifully Hugh had not noticed it. Honora did not recognize the +handwriting, but she slipped the envelope into her lap, fearful of what +it might contain, and, when she gained the privacy of her rooms, read it +with quickening breath. Mrs. Kame's touch was light and her imagination +sympathetic; she was the most adaptable of the feminine portion of her +nation, and since the demise of her husband she had lived, abroad and at +home, among men and women of a world that does not dot its i's or cross +its t's. Nevertheless, the letter filled Honora with a deep apprehension +and a deeper resentment. Plainly and clearly stamped between its +delicately worded lines was the claim of a comradeship born of Honora's +recent act. She tore the paper into strips and threw it into the flames +and opened the window to the cool air of the autumn morning. She had a +feeling of contamination that was intolerable. + +Mrs. Kame had proposed herself--again the word "delicately" must be +used--for one of Honora's first house-parties. Only an acute perception +could have read in the lady's praise of Hugh a masterly avoidance of +that part of his career already registered on the social slate. Mrs. +Kame had thought about them and their wonderful happiness in these +autumn days at Grenoble; to intrude on that happiness yet awhile would +be a sacrilege. Later, perhaps, they would relent and see something of +their friends, and throw open again the gates of a beautiful place long +closed to the world. And--without the air of having picked the single +instance, but of having chosen from many--Mrs. Kame added that she had +only lately seen Elsie Shorter, whose admiration for Honora was greater +than ever. A sentiment, Honora reflected a little bitterly, that Mrs. +Shorter herself had not taken the pains to convey. Consistency was not +Elsie's jewel. + +It must perhaps be added for the sake of enlightenment that since going +to Newport Honora's view of the writer of this letter had changed. In +other words, enlarging ideals had dwarfed her somewhat; it was strictly +true that the lady was a boon companion of everybody. Her Catholicism +had two limitations only: that she must be amused, and that she must +not--in what she deemed the vulgar sense--be shocked. + +Honora made several attempts at an answer before she succeeded in +saying, simply, that Hugh was too absorbed in his work of reconstruction +of the estate for them to have house-parties this autumn. And even this +was a concession hard for her pride to swallow. She would have preferred +not to reply at all, and this slightest of references to his work--and +hers--seemed to degrade it. Before she folded the sheet she looked again +at that word "reconstruction" and thought of eliminating it. It was too +obviously allied to "redemption"; and she felt that Mrs. Kame could not +understand redemption, and would ridicule it. Honora went downstairs and +dropped her reply guiltily into the mail-bag. It was for Hugh's sake she +was sending it, and from his eyes she was hiding it. + +And, while we are dealing with letters, one, or part of one, from +Honora's aunt, may perhaps be inserted here. It was an answer to one +that Honora had written a few days after her installation at Grenoble, +the contents of which need not be gone into: we, who know her, would +neither laugh nor weep at reading it, and its purport may be more or +less accurately surmised from her aunt's reply. + + "As I wrote you at the time, my dear,"--so it ran "the shock which + your sudden marriage with Mr. Chiltern caused us was great--so great + that I cannot express it in words. I realize that I am growing old, + and perhaps the world is changing faster than I imagine. And I + wrote you, too, that I would not be true to myself if I told you + that what you have done was right in my eyes. I have asked myself + whether my horror of divorce and remarriage may not in some degree + be due to the happiness of my life with your uncle. I am, + undoubtedly, an exceptionally fortunate woman; and as I look + backwards I see that the struggles and trials which we have shared + together were really blessings. + + "Nevertheless, dear Honora, you are, as your uncle wrote you, our + child, and nothing can alter that fact in our hearts. We can only + pray with all our strength that you may find happiness and peace in + your new life. I try to imagine, as I think of you and what has + happened to you in the few years since you have left us--how long + they seem!--I try to imagine some of the temptations that have + assailed you in that world of which I know nothing. If I cannot, it + is because God made us different. I know what you have suffered, + and my heart aches for you. + + "You say that experience has taught you much that you could not + have--learned in any other way. I do not doubt it. You tell me + that your new life, just begun, will be a dutiful one. Let me + repeat that it is my anxious prayer that you have not builded upon + sand, that regrets may not come. I cannot say more. I cannot + dissemble. Perhaps I have already said too much. + + "Your loving + + "AUNT MARY." + +An autumn wind was blowing, and Honora gazed out of the window at the +steel-blue, ruffled waters of the lake. Unconsciously she repeated the +words to herself: + +"Builded upon sand!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. CONTAINING PHILOSOPHY FROM MR. GRAINGER + +Swiftly came the autumn days, and swiftly went. A bewildering, ever +changing, and glorious panorama presented itself, green hillsides struck +first with flaming crimsons and yellows, and later mellowing into a +wondrous blending of gentler, tenderer hues; lavender, and wine, and the +faintest of rose colours where the bare beeches massed. Thus the slopes +were spread as with priceless carpets for a festival. Sometimes Honora, +watching, beheld from her window the russet dawn on the eastern ridge, +and the white mists crouching in strange, ghostly shapes abode the +lake and the rushing river: and she saw these same mists gather again, +shivering, at nightfall. In the afternoon they threaded valleys, silent +save for the talk between them and the stirring of the leaves under +their horses' feet. + +So the Indian summer passed--that breathless season when even happiness +has its premonitions and its pangs. The umber fields, all ploughed and +harrowed, lay patiently awaiting the coming again of the quickening +spring. Then fell the rain, the first, cold winter rain that shrouded +the valley and beat down upon the defenceless, dismantled garden and +made pools in the hollows of the stone seat: that flung itself against +Honora's window as though begrudging her the warmth and comfort within. +Sometimes she listened to it in the night. + +She was watching. How intent was that vigil, how alert and sharpened her +senses, a woman who has watched alone may answer. Now, she felt, was the +crisis at hand: the moment when her future, and his was to hang in the +balance. The work on the farms, which had hitherto left Chiltern but +little time for thought, had relaxed. In these wet days had he begun +to brood a little? Did he show signs of a reversion to that other +personality, the Chiltern she had not known, yet glimpses of whom she +had had? She recalled the third time she had seen him, the morning +at the Lilacs in Newport, that had left upon her the curious sense of +having looked on a superimposed portrait. That Chiltern which she called +her Viking, and which, with a woman's perversity, she had perhaps loved +most of all, was but one expression of the other man of days gone by. +The life of that man was a closed book she had never wished to open. Was +he dead, or sleeping? And if sleeping, would he awake? How softly she +tread! + +And in these days, with what exquisite, yet tremulous skill and courage +did she bring up the subject of that other labour they were to undertake +together--the life and letters of his father. In the early dusk, when +they had returned from their long rides, she contrived to draw Chiltern +into his study. The cheerfulness, the hopefulness, the delight with +which she approached the task, the increasing enthusiasm she displayed +for the character of the General as she read and sorted the letters and +documents, and the traits of his she lovingly traced in Hugh, were not +without their effect. It was thus she fanned, ceaselessly and with a +smile, and with an art the rarest women possess, the drooping flame. And +the flame responded. + +How feverishly she worked, unknown to him, he never guessed; so +carefully and unobtrusively planted her suggestions that they were born +again in glory as his inspiration. The mist had lifted a little, and she +beheld the next stage beyond. To reach that stage was to keep him intent +on this work--and--after that, to publish! Ah, if he would only have +patience, or if she could keep him distracted through this winter and +their night, she might save him. Love such as hers can even summon +genius to its aid, and she took fire herself at the thought of a book +worthy of that love, of a book--though signed by him that would redeem +them, and bring a scoffing world to its knees in praise. She spent hours +in the big library preparing for Chiltern's coming, with volumes in her +lap and a note-book by her side. + +One night, as they sat by the blazing logs in his study, which had been +the General's, Chiltern arose impulsively, opened the big safe in the +corner, and took out a leather-bound book and laid it on her lap. Honora +stared at it: it was marked: "Highlawns, Visitors' Book." + +"It's curious I never thought of it before," he said, "but my father, +had a habit of jotting down notes in it on important occasions. It may +be of some use to us Honora." + +She opened it at random and read: "July 5, 1893, Picnic at Psalter's +Falls. Temperature 71 at 9 A.M. Bar. 30. Weather clear. Charles left +for Washington, summons from President, in the midst of it. Agatha and +Victor again look at the Farrar property. Hugh has a ducking. P.S. At +dinner night Bessie announces her engagement to Cecil Grainger. Present +Sarah and George Grenfell, Agatha and Victor Strange, Gerald Shorter, +Lord Kylie--" + +Honora looked up. Hugh was at her shoulder, with his eyes on the page. + +"Psalter's Falls!" he exclaimed. "How well I remember that day! I was +just home from my junior year at Harvard." + +"Who was 'Charles'?" inquired Honora. + +"Senator Pendleton--Bessie's father. Just after I jumped into the +mill-pond the telegram came for him to go to Washington, and I drove him +home in my wet clothes. The old man had a terrible tongue, a whip-lash +kind of humour, and he scored me for being a fool. But he rather liked +me, on the whole. He told me if I'd only straighten out I could be +anything, in reason." + +"What made you jump in the mill-pond?" Honora asked, laughing. + +"Bessie Grainger. She had a devil in her, too, in those days, but she +always kept her head, and I didn't." He smiled. "I'm willing to admit +that I was madly in love with her, and she treated me outrageously. +We were standing on the bridge--I remember it as though it were +yesterday--and the water was about eight feet deep, with a clear sand +bottom. She took off a gold bracelet and bet me I wouldn't get it if she +threw it in. That night, right in the middle of dinner, when there was +a pause in the conversation, she told us she was engaged to Cecil +Grainger. It turned out, by the way, to have been his bracelet I +rescued. I could have wrung his neck, and I didn't speak to her for a +month." + +Honora repressed an impulse to comment on this incident. With his arm +over her shoulder, he turned the pages idly, and the long lists of +guests which bore witness to the former life and importance of Highlawns +passed before her eyes. Distinguished foreigners, peers of England, +churchmen, and men renowned in literature: famous American statesmen, +scientists, and names that represented more than one generation of +wealth and achievement--all were here. There were his school and college +friends, five and six at a time, and besides them those of young girls +who were now women, some of whom Honora had met and known in New York or +Newport. + +Presently he closed the book abruptly and returned it to the safe. To +her sharpened senses, the very act itself was significant. There were +other and blank pages in it for future years; and under different +circumstances he might have laid it in its time-honoured place, on the +great table in the library. + +It was not until some weeks later that Honora was seated one afternoon +in the study waiting for him to come in, and sorting over some of the +letters that they had not yet examined, when she came across a new +lot thrust carelessly at the bottom of the older pile. She undid the +elastic. Tucked away in one of the envelopes she was surprised to find +a letter of recent date--October. She glanced at it, read involuntarily +the first lines, and then, with a little cry, turned it over. It was +from Cecil Grainger. She put it back into the envelope whence it came, +and sat still. + +After a while, she could not tell how long, she heard Hugh stamping the +snow from his feet in the little entry beside the study. And in a few +moments he entered, rubbing his hands and holding them out to the blaze. + +"Hello, Honora," he said; "are you still at it? What's the matter--a +hitch?" + +She reached mechanically into the envelope, took out the letter, and +handed it to him. + +"I found it just now, Hugh. I didn't read much of it--I didn't mean to +read any. It's from Mr. Grainger, and you must have overlooked it." + +He took it. + +"From Cecil?" he said, in an odd voice. "I wasn't aware that he had sent +me anything-recently." + +As he read, she felt the anger rise within him, she saw it in his eyes +fixed upon the sheet, and the sense of fear, of irreparable loss, that +had come over her as she had sat alone awaiting him, deepened. And +yet, long expected verdicts are sometimes received in a spirit of +recklessness: He finished the letter, and flung it in her lap. + +"Read it," he said. + +"Oh, Hugh!" she protested tremulously. "Perhaps--perhaps I'd better +not." He laughed, and that frightened her the more. It was the laugh, +she was sure, of the other man she had not known. + +"I've always suspected that Cecil was a fool--now I'm sure of it. Read +it!" he repeated, in a note of command that went oddly with his next +sentence; "You will find that it is only ridiculous." + +This assurance of the comedy it contained, however, did not serve to +fortify her misgivings. It was written from a club. + + "DEAR HUGH: Herewith a few letters for the magnum opus which I have + extracted from Aunt Agatha, Judge Gaines, and others, and to send + you my humble congratulations. By George, my boy, you have dashed + off with a prize, and no mistake. I've never made any secret, you + know, of my admiration for Honora--I hope I may call her so now. + And I just thought I'd tell you you could count on me for a friend + at court. Not that I'm any use now, old boy. I'll have to be frank + with you--I always was. Discreet silence, and all that sort of + thing: as much as my head is worth to open my mouth. But I had an + idea it would be an act of friendship to let you know how things + stand. Let time and works speak, and Cecil will give the thing + a push at the proper moment. I understand from one of the + intellectual journals I read that you have gone in for simple life + and scientific farming. A deuced canny move. And for the love of + heaven, old man, keep it up for a while, anyhow. I know it's + difficult, but keep it up. I speak as a friend. + + "They received your letters all right, announcing your marriage. + You always enjoyed a row--I wish you could have been on hand to see + and hear this one. It was no place for a man of peace, and I spent + two nights at the club. I've never made any secret, you know, of + the fact that I think the Pendleton connection hide-bound. And you + understand Bessie--there's no good of my explaining her. You'd have + thought divorce a brand-new invention of the devil, instead of a + comparatively old institution. And if you don't mind my saying so, + my boy, you took this fence a bit on the run, the way you do + everything. + + "The fact is, divorce is going out of fashion. Maybe it's because + the Pendleton-Grenfell element have always set their patrician faces + against it; maybe its been a bit overdone. Most people who have + tried it have discovered that the fire is no better than the frying- + pan--both hot as soon as they warm up. Of course, old boy, there's + nothing personal in this. Sit tight, and stick to the simple life-- + that's your game as I see it. No news--I've never known things to + be so quiet. Jerry won over two thousand night before last--he made + it no trumps in his own hand four times running. + + "Yours, + + "CECIL." + +Honora returned this somewhat unique epistle to her husband, and he +crushed it. There was an ill-repressed, terrifying savagery in the act, +and her heart was torn between fear and pity for this lone message +of good-will. Whatever its wording, such it was. A dark red flush had +mounted his forehead to the roots of his short curly hair. + +"Well?" he said. + +She was fighting for her presence of mind. Flashes of his temper she had +known, but she had never seen the cruel, fiendish thing--his anger. Not +his anger, but the anger of the destroyer that she beheld waking now +after its long sleep, and taking possession of him, and transforming him +before her very eyes. She had been able to cope with the new man, but +she felt numb and powerless before the resuscitated demon of the old. + +"What do you expect me to say, Hugh?" she faltered, with a queer feeling +that she was not addressing him. + +"Anything you like," he replied. + +"Defend Cecil." + +"Why should I defend him?" she said dully. + +"Because you have no pride." + +A few seconds elapsed before the full import and brutality of this +insult reached her intelligence, and she cried out his name in a voice +shrill with anguish. But he seemed to delight in the pain he had caused. + +"You couldn't be expected, I suppose, to see that this letter is a d--d +impertinence, filled with an outrageous flippancy, a deliberate affront, +an implication that our marriage does not exist." + +She sat stunned, knowing that the real pain would come later. That +which slowly awoke in her now, as he paced the room, was a high sense +of danger, and a persistent inability to regard the man who had insulted +her as her husband. He was rather an enemy to them both, and he would +overturn, if he could, the frail craft of their happiness in the storm. +She cried out to Hugh as across the waters. + +"No,--I have no pride, Hugh,--it is gone. I have thought of you only. +The fear that I might separate you from your family, from your friends, +and ruin your future has killed my pride. He--Mr. Grainger meant to be +kind. He is always like that--it's his way of saying things. He wishes +to show that he is friendly to you--to me--" + +"In spite of my relations," cried Chiltern, stopping in the middle of +the room. "They cease to be my relations from this day. I disown them. I +say it deliberately. So long as I live, not one of them shall come into +this house. All my life they have begged me to settle down, to come up +here and live the life my father did. Very well, now I've done it. And +I wrote to them and told them that I intended to live henceforth like a +gentleman and a decent citizen--more than some of them do. No, I wash +my hands of them. If they were to crawl up here from the gate on their +knees, I'd turn them out." + +Although he could not hear her, she continued to plead. + +"Hugh, try to think of how--how our marriage must have appeared to them. +Not that I blame you for being angry. We only thought of one thing--our +love--" her voice broke at the word, "and our own happiness. We did not +consider others. It is that which sometimes has made me afraid, that we +believed ourselves above the law. And now that we have--begun so well, +don't spoil it, Hugh! Give them time, let them see by our works that we +are in earnest, that we intend to live useful lives. + +"I don't mean to beg them," she cried, at sight of his eyes. "Oh, I +don't mean that. I don't mean to entreat them, or even to communicate +with them. But they are your flesh and blood--you must remember that. +Let us prove that we are--not--like the others," she said, lifting her +head, "and then it cannot matter to us what any one thinks. We shall +have justified our act to ourselves." + +But he was striding up and down the room again. It was as she +feared--her plea--had fallen on unheeding ears. A sudden convulsive +leaping of the inner fires sent him to his desk, and he seized some +note-paper from the rack. Honora rose to her feet, and took a step +towards him. + +"Hugh--what are you going to do?" + +"Do!" he cried, swinging in his chair and facing her, "I'm going to +do what any man with an ounce of self-respect would do under the +circumstances. I'm going to do what I was a fool not to have done three +months ago--what I should have done if it hadn't been for you. If in +their contemptible, pharisaical notions of morality they choose to +forget what my mother and father were to them, they cease to exist for +me. If it's the last act of my life I'm going to tell them so." + +She stood gazing at him, but she was as one of whom he took no account. +He turned to the desk and began to write with a deliberation all the +more terrible to her because of the white anger he felt. And still she +stood. He pressed the button on his desk, and Starling responded. + +"I want a man from the stable to be ready to take some letters to town +in half an hour," he said. + +It was not until then that she turned and slowly left the room. A mortal +sickness seemed to invade her vitals, and she went to her own chamber +and flung herself, face downward, on the lace covering of the bed: and +the sobs that shook her were the totterings of the foundations of her +universe. For a while, in the intensity of her anguish, all thought was +excluded. Presently, however, when the body was spent, the mind began +to practise its subtle and intolerable torture, and she was invaded by a +sense of loneliness colder than the space between the worlds. + +Where was she to go, whither flee, now that his wrath was turned +against her? On the strength of his love alone she had pinned her faith, +discarded and scorned all other help. And at the first contact with that +greater power which he had taught her so confidently to despise, that +strength had broken! + +Slowly, she gazed back over the path she had trod; where roses once had +held up smiling heads. It was choked now by brambles that scratched her +nakedness at every step. Ah, how easily she had been persuaded to enter +it! "We have the right to happiness," he had said, and she had +looked into his eyes and believed him. What was this strange, elusive +happiness, that she had so pantingly pursued and never overtaken? that +essence pure and unalloyed with baser things? Ecstasy, perhaps, she had +found--for was it delirium? Fear was the boon companion of these; or +better, the pestilence that stalked behind them, ever ready to strike. + +Then, as though some one had turned on a light--a sickening, yet +penetrating blue light--she looked at Hugh Chiltern. She did not wish to +look, but that which had turned on the light and bade her was stronger +than she. She beheld, as it were, the elements of his being, the very +sources of the ceaseless, restless energy that was driving him on. And +scan as she would, no traces of the vaunted illimitable power that +is called love could she discern. Love he possessed; that she had not +doubted, and did not doubt, even now. But it had been given her to see +that these springs had existed before love had come, and would flow, +perchance, after it had departed. Now she understood his anger; it was +like the anger of a fiercely rushing river striving to break a dam and +invade the lands below with devastating floods. All these months the +waters had been mounting.... + +Turning at length from the consideration of this figure, she asked +herself whether, if with her present knowledge she had her choice to +make over again, she would have chosen differently. The answer was a +startling negative. She loved him. Incomprehensible, unreasonable, and +un reasoning sentiment! That she had received a wound, she knew; whether +it were mortal, or whether it would heal and leave a scar, she could not +say. One salient, awful fact she began gradually to realize, that if she +sank back upon the pillows she was lost. Little it would profit her to +save her body. She had no choice between her present precarious foothold +and the abyss, and wounded as she was she would have to fight. There was +no retreat: + +She sat up, and presently got to her feet and went to the window and +stared through the panes until she distinguished the blue whiteness of +the fallen snow on her little balcony. The night, despite the clouds, +had a certain luminous quality. Then she drew the curtains, searched for +the switch, and flooded the room with a soft glow--that beautiful +room in which he had so proudly installed her four months before. She +smoothed the bed, and walking to the mirror gazed intently at her +face, and then she bathed it. Afterwards she opened her window again, +admitting a flurry of snow, and stood for some minutes breathing in the +sharp air. + +Three quarters of an hour later she was dressed and descending the +stairs, and as she entered the library dinner was announced. Let us +spare Honora the account of that repast or rather a recital of the +conversation that accompanied it. What she found to say under the eyes +of the servants is of little value, although the fact itself deserves to +be commended as a high accomplishment; and while she talked, she studied +the brooding mystery that he presented, and could make nothing of it. +His mood was new. It was not sullenness, nor repressed rage; and his +answers were brief, but he was not taciturn. It struck her that in spite +of a concentration such as she had never in her life bestowed on any +other subject, her knowledge of him of the Chiltern she had married--was +still wofully incomplete, and that in proportion to the lack of +perfection of that knowledge her danger was great. Perhaps the Chiltern +she had married was as yet in a formative state. Be this as it may, +what she saw depicted on his face to-night corresponded to no former +experience. + +They went back to the library. Coffee was brought and carried off, and +Honora was standing before the fire. Suddenly he rose from his chair, +crossed the room, and before she could draw away seized and crushed her +in his arms without a word. She lay there, inert, bewildered as in the +grip of an unknown force, until presently she was aware of the beating +of his heart, and a glimmering of what he felt came to her. Nor was it +an understandable thing, except to the woman who loved him. And yet and +yet she feared it even in that instant of glory. + +When at last she dared to look up, he kissed away the tears from her +cheeks. + +"I love you," he said. "You must never doubt it--do you understand?" + +"Yes, Hugh." + +"You must never doubt it," he repeated roughly. + +His contrition was a strange thing--if it were contrition. And +love--woman's love--is sometimes the counsellor of wisdom. Her sole +reproach was to return his kiss. + +Presently she chose a book, and he read to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY + +One morning, as he gathered up his mail, Chiltern left lying on the +breakfast table a printed circular, an appeal from the trustees of +the Grenoble Hospital. As Honora read it she remembered that this +institution had been the favourite charity of his mother; and that Mrs. +Chiltern, at her death, had bequeathed an endowment which at the time +had been ample. But Grenoble having grown since then, the deficit for +this year was something under two thousand dollars, and in a lower +corner was a request that contributions be sent to Mrs. Israel Simpson. + +With the circular in her hand, Honora went thoughtfully up the stairs +to her sitting-room. The month was February, the day overcast and muggy, +and she stood for a while apparently watching the holes made in the snow +by the steady drip from the cap of the garden wall. What she really saw +was the face of Mrs. Israel Simpson, a face that had haunted her these +many months. For Mrs. Simpson had gradually grown, in Honora's mind, to +typify the hardness of heart of Grenoble. With Grenoble obdurate, what +would become of the larger ambitions of Hugh Chiltern? + +Mrs. Simpson was indeed a redoubtable lady, whose virtue shone with a +particular high brightness on the Sabbath. Her lamp was brimming with +oil against the judgment day, and she was as one divinely appointed to +be the chastener of the unrighteous. So, at least, Honora beheld her. +Her attire was rich but not gaudy, and had the air of proclaiming the +prosperity of Israel Simpson alone as its unimpeachable source: her nose +was long, her lip slightly marked by a masculine and masterful emblem, +and her eyes protruded in such a manner as to give the impression of +watchfulness on all sides. + +It was this watchfulness that our heroine grew to regard as a salient +characteristic. It never slept--even during Mr. Stopford's sermons. She +was aware of it when she entered the church, and she was sure that +it escorted her as far as the carriage on her departure. It seemed to +oppress the congregation. And Honora had an idea that if it could have +been withdrawn, her cruel proscription would have ended. For at times +she thought that she read in the eyes of some of those who made way for +her, friendliness and even compassion. + +It was but natural, perhaps, in the situation in which our heroine found +herself, that she should have lost her sense of proportion to the extent +of regarding this lady in the light of a remorseless dragon barring her +only path to peace. And those who might have helped her--if any there +were--feared the dragon as much as she. Mrs. Simpson undoubtedly would +not have relished this characterization, and she is not to have the +opportunity of presenting her side of the case. We are looking at it +from Honora's view, and Honora beheld chimeras. The woman changed, for +Honora, the very aspect of the house of God; it was she who appeared to +preside there, or rather to rule by terror. And Honora, as she glanced +at her during the lessons, often wondered if she realized the appalling +extent of her cruelty. Was this woman, who begged so audibly to be +delivered from pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy, in reality a Christian? +Honora hated her, and yet she prayed that God would soften her heart. +Was there no way in which she could be propitiated, appeased? For +the sake of the thing desired, and which it was given this woman to +withhold, she was willing to humble herself in the dust. + +Honora laid the hospital circular on the desk beside her account book. +She had an ample allowance from Hugh; but lying in a New York bank was +what remained of the unexpected legacy she had received from her father, +and it was from this that she presently drew a cheque for five hundred +dollars,--a little sacrifice that warmed her blood as she wrote. Not for +the unfortunate in the hospital was she making it, but for him: and that +she could do this from the little store that was her very own gave her +a thrill of pride. She would never need it again. If he deserted her, it +mattered little what became of her. If he deserted her! + +She sat gazing out of the window over the snow, and a new question +was in her heart. Was it as a husband--that he loved her? Did their +intercourse have that intangible quality of safety that belonged to +married life? And was it not as a mistress rather than a wife that, in +their isolation, she watched his moods so jealously? A mistress! Her +lips parted, and she repeated the word aloud, for self-torture is human. + +Her mind dwelt upon their intercourse. There were the days they spent +together, and the evenings, working or reading. Ah, but had the time +ever been when, in the depths of her being, she had felt the real +security of a wife? When she had not always been dimly conscious of +a desire to please him, of a struggle to keep him interested and +contented? And there were the days when he rode alone, the nights when +he read or wrote alone, when her joy was turned to misery; there were +the alternating periods of passion and alienation. Alienation, perhaps, +was too strong a word. Nevertheless, at such times, her feeling was one +of desolation. + +His heart, she knew, was bent upon success at Grenoble, and one of the +books which they had recently read together was a masterly treatise, by +an Englishman, on the life-work of an American statesman. The vast +width of the country, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, was stirred with +politics: a better era was coming, the pulse of the nation beating with +renewed life; a stronger generation was arising to take the Republic +into its own hands. A campaign was in progress in the State, and twice +her husband had gone some distance to hear the man who embodied the new +ideas, and had come back moody and restless, like a warrior condemned +to step aside. Suppose his hopes were blighted--what would happen? Would +the spirit of reckless adventure seize him again? Would the wilds call +him? or the city? She did not dare to think. + +It was not until two mornings later that Hugh tossed her across the +breakfast table a pink envelope with a wide flap and rough edges. Its +sender had taken advantage of the law that permits one-cent stamps for +local use. + +"Who's your friend, Honora?" he asked. + +She tried to look calmly at the envelope that contained her fate. + +"It's probably a dressmaker's advertisement," she answered, and went on +with the pretence of eating her breakfast. + +"Or an invitation to dine with Mrs. Simpson," he suggested, laughingly, +as he rose. "It's just the stationery she would choose." + +Honora dropped her spoon in her egg-cup. It instantly became evident, +however, that his remark was casual and not serious, for he gathered +up his mail and departed. Her hand trembled a little as she opened the +letter, and for a moment the large gold monogram of its sender danced +before her eyes. + + "Dear Madam, Permit me to thank you in the name of the Trustees of + the Grenoble Hospital for your generous contribution, and believe + me, Sincerely yours, + + "MARIA W. SIMPSON." + +The sheet fluttered to the floor. + +When Sunday came, for the first time her courage failed her. She had +heard the wind complaining in the night, and the day dawned wild and +wet. She got so far as to put on a hat and veil and waterproof coat; +Starling had opened the doors, and through the frame of the doorway, on +the wet steps, she saw the footman in his long mackintosh, his umbrella +raised to escort her to the carriage. Then she halted, irresolute. The +impassive old butler stood on the sill, a silent witness, she knew, to +the struggle going on within her. It seemed ridiculous indeed to play +out the comedy with him, who could have recited the lines. And yet she +turned to him. + +"Starling, you may send the coachman back to the stable." + +"Very good, madam." + +As she climbed the stairs she saw him gravely closing the doors. She +paused on the landing, her sense of relief overborne by a greater sense +of defeat. There was still time! She heard the wheels of the carriage +on the circle--yet she listened to them die away. Starling softly caught +the latch, and glanced up. For an instant their looks crossed, and she +hurried on with palpitating breast, reached her boudoir, and closed +the door. The walls seemed to frown on her, and she remembered that the +sitting-room in St. Louis had worn that same look when, as a child, +she had feigned illness in order to miss a day at school. With a leaden +heart she gazed out on the waste of melting snow, and then tried in +vain to read a novel that a review had declared amusing. But a question +always came between her and the pages: was this the turning point of +that silent but terrible struggle, when she must acknowledge to herself +that the world had been too strong for her? After a while her loneliness +became unbearable. Chiltern was in the library. + +"Home from church?" he inquired. + +"I didn't go, Hugh." + +He looked up in surprise. + +"Why, I thought I saw you start," he said. + +"It's such a dreary day, Hugh." + +"But that has never prevented you before." + +"Don't you think I'm entitled to one holiday?" she asked. + +But it was by a supreme effort she kept back the tears. He looked at her +attentively, and got up suddenly and put his hands upon her shoulders. +She could not meet his eyes, and trembled under his touch. + +"Honora," he said, "why don't you tell me the truth?" + +"What do you mean, Hugh?" + +"I have been wondering how long you'd stand it. I mean that these women, +who call themselves Christians, have been brutal to you. They haven't +so much as spoken to you in church, and not one of them has been to this +house to call. Isn't that so?" + +"Don't let us judge them yet, Hugh," she begged, a little wildly, +feeling again the gathering of another destroying storm in him that +might now sweep the last vestige of hope away. And she seized the +arguments as they came. "Some of them may be prejudiced, I know. But +others--others I am sure are kind, and they have had no reason to +believe I should like to know them--to work among them. I--I could not +go to see them first, I am glad to wait patiently until some accident +brings me near them. And remember, Hugh, the atmosphere in which we both +lived before we came here--an atmosphere they regard as frivolous +and pleasure-loving. People who are accustomed to it are not usually +supposed to care to make friends in a village, or to bother their heads +about the improvement of a community. Society is not what it was in +your mother's day, who knew these people or their mothers, and took an +interest in what they were doing. Perhaps they think me--haughty." She +tried to smile. "I have never had an opportunity to show them that I am +not." + +She paused, breathless, and saw that he was unconvinced. + +"Do you believe that, Honora?" he demanded. + +"I--I want to believe it. And I am sure, that if it is not true now, it +will become so, if we only wait." + +He shook his head. + +"Never," he said, and dropped his hands and walked over to the fire. She +stood where he had left her. + +"I understand," she heard him say, "I understand that you sent Mrs. +Simpson five hundred dollars for the hospital. Simpson told me so +yesterday, at the bank." + +"I had a little money of my own--from my father and I was glad to do it, +Hugh. That was your mother's charity." + +Her self-control was taxed to the utmost by the fact that he was moved. +She could not see his face, but his voice betrayed it. + +"And Mrs. Simpson?" he asked, after a moment. + +"Mrs. Simpson?" + +"She thanked you?" + +"She acknowledged the cheque, as president. I was not giving it to her, +but to the hospital." + +"Let me see the letter." + +"I--I have destroyed it." + +He brought his hands together forcibly, and swung about and faced her. + +"Damn them!" he cried, "from this day I forbid you to have anything to +do with them, do you hear. I forbid you! They're a set of confounded, +self-righteous hypocrites. Give them time! In all conscience they have +had time enough, and opportunity enough to know what our intentions +are. How long do they expect us to fawn at their feet for a word of +recognition? What have we done that we should be outlawed in this way +by the very people who may thank my family for their prosperity? Where +would Israel Simpson be to-day if my father had not set him up in +business? Without knowing anything of our lives they pretend to sit in +judgment on us. Why? Because you have been divorced, and I married you. +I'll make them pay for this!" + +"No!" she begged, taking a step towards him. "You don't know what you're +saying, Hugh. I implore you not to do anything. Wait a little while! +Oh, it is worth trying!" So far the effort carried her, and no farther. +Perhaps, at sight of the relentlessness in his eyes, hope left her, and +she sank down on a chair and buried her face in her hands, her voice +broken by sobs. "It is my fault, and I am justly punished. I have no +right to you--I was wicked, I was selfish to marry you. I have ruined +your life." + +He went to her, and lifted her up, but she was like a child whom +passionate weeping has carried beyond the reach of words. He could say +nothing to console her, plead as he might, assume the blame, and swear +eternal fealty. One fearful, supreme fact possessed her, the wreck of +Chiltern breaking against the rocks, driven there by her.... + +That she eventually grew calm again deserves to be set down as a tribute +to the organism of the human body. + +That she was able to breathe, to move, to talk, to go through the +pretence of eating, was to her in the nature of a mild surprise. Life +went on, but it seemed to Honora in the hours following this scene that +it was life only. Of the ability to feel she was utterly bereft. Her +calmness must have been appalling: her own indifference to what might +happen now,--if she could have realized it,--even more so. And in +the afternoon, wandering about the house, she found herself in the +conservatory. It had been built on against the library, and sometimes, +on stormy afternoons, she had tea there with Hugh in the red-cushioned +chairs beside the trickling fountain, the flowers giving them an +illusion of summer. + +Under ordinary circumstances the sound of wheels on the gravel would +have aroused her, for Hugh scarcely ever drove. And it was not until +she glanced through the open doors into the library that she knew that +a visitor had come to Highlawns. He stood beside the rack for the +magazines and reviews, somewhat nervously fingering a heavy watch charm, +his large silk hat bottom upward on the chair behind him. It was Mr. +Israel Simpson. She could see him plainly, and she was by no means +hidden from him by the leaves, and yet she did not move. He had come to +see Hugh, she understood; and she was probably going to stay where +she was and listen. It seemed of no use repeating to herself that +this conversation would be of vital importance; for the mechanism that +formerly had recorded these alarms and spread them, refused to work. She +saw Chiltern enter, and she read on his face that he meant to destroy. +It was no news to her. She had known it for a long, long time--in fact, +ever since she had came to Grenoble. Her curiosity, strangely enough--or +so it seemed afterwards--was centred on Mr. Simpson, as though he were +an actor she had been very curious to see. + +It was this man, and not her husband, whom she perceived from the first +was master of the situation. His geniality was that of the commander +of an overwhelming besieging force who could afford to be generous. She +seemed to discern the cloudy ranks of the legions behind him, and they +encircled the world. He was aware of these legions, and their presence +completely annihilated the ancient habit of subserviency with which +in former years he had been wont to enter this room and listen to the +instructions of that formidable old lion, the General: so much was +plain from the orchestra. He went forward with a cheerful, if ponderous +bonhomie. + +"Ah, Hugh," said he, "I got your message just in time. I was on the +point of going over to see old Murdock. Seriously ill--you know--last +time, I'm afraid," and Mr. Simpson shook his head. He held out his hand. +Hugh did not appear to notice it. + +"Sit down, Mr. Simpson," he said. + +Mr. Simpson sat down. Chiltern took a stand before him. + +"You asked me the other day whether I would take a certain amount of the +stock and bonds of the Grenoble Light and Power Company, in which +you are interested, and which is, I believe, to supply the town with +electric light, the present source being inadequate." + +"So I did," replied Mr. Simpson, urbanely, "and I believe the investment +to be a good one. There is no better power in this part of the country +than Psalter's Falls." + +"I wished to inform you that I do not intend to go into the Light and +Power Company," said Chiltern. + +"I am sorry to hear it," Mr. Simpson declared. "In my opinion, if you +searched the state for a more profitable or safer thing, you could not +find it." + +"I have no doubt the investment is all that could be desired, Mr. +Simpson. I merely wished you to know, as soon as possible, that I did +not intend to put my money into it. There are one or two other little +matters which you have mentioned during the week. You pointed out that +it would be an advantage to Grenoble to revive the county fair, and you +asked me to subscribe five thousand dollars to the Fair Association." + +This time Mr. Simpson remained silent. + +"I have come to the conclusion, to-day, not to subscribe a cent. I also +intend to notify the church treasurer that I will not any longer rent a +pew, or take any further interest in the affairs of St. John's church. +My wife was kind enough, I believe, to send five hundred dollars to the +Grenoble hospital. That will be the last subscription from any member of +my family. I will resign as a director of the Grenoble Bank to-morrow, +and my stock will be put on the market. And finally I wished to tell +you that henceforth I do not mean to aid in any way any enterprise in +Grenoble." + +During this announcement, which had been made with an ominous calmness, +Mr. Simpson had gazed steadily at the brass andirons. He cleared his +throat. + +"My dear Hugh," said he, "what you have said pains me +excessively-excessively. I--ahem--fail to grasp it. As an old friend +of your family--of your father--I take the liberty of begging you to +reconsider your words." + +Chiltern's eyes blazed. + +"Since you have mentioned my father, Mr. Simpson," he exclaimed, "I may +remind you that his son might reasonably have expected at your hands a +different treatment than that you have accorded him. You have asked me +to reconsider my decision, but I notice that you have failed to inquire +into my reasons for making it. I came back here to Grenoble with every +intention of devoting the best efforts of my life in aiding to build up +the community, as my father had done. It was natural, perhaps, that +I should expect a little tolerance, a little friendliness, a little +recognition in return. My wife was prepared to help me. We did not +ask much. But you have treated us like outcasts. Neither you nor Mrs. +Simpson, from whom in all conscience I looked for consideration and +friendship, have as much as spoken to Mrs. Chiltern in church. You have +made it clear that, while you are willing to accept our contributions, +you cared to have nothing to do with us whatever. If I have overstated +the case, please correct me." + +Mr. Simpson rose protestingly. + +"My dear Hugh," he said. "This is very painful. I beg that you will +spare me." + +"My name is Chiltern," answered Hugh, shortly. "Will you kindly explain, +if you can, why the town of Grenoble has ignored us?" + +Israel Simpson hesitated a moment. He seemed older when he looked at +Chiltern again, and in his face commiseration and indignation were oddly +intermingled. His hand sought his watch chain. + +"Yes, I will tell you," he replied slowly, "although in all my life +no crueller duty has fallen on me. It is because we in Grenoble are +old-fashioned in our views of morality, and I thank God we are so. It is +because you have married a divorced woman under circumstances that have +shocked us. The Church to which I belong, and whose teachings I respect, +does not recognize such a marriage. And you have, in my opinion, +committed an offence against society. To recognize you by social +intercourse would be to condone that offence, to open the door to +practices that would lead, in a short time, to the decay of our people." + +Israel Simpson turned, and pointed a shaking forefinger at the portrait +of General Augus Chiltern. + +"And I affirm here, fearlessly before you, that he, your father, would +have been the last to recognize such a marriage." + +Chiltern took a step forward, and his fingers tightened. + +"You will oblige me by leaving my father's name out of this discussion," +he said. + +But Israel Simpson did not recoil. + +"If we learn anything by example in this world, Mr. Chiltern," he +continued, "and it is my notion that we do, I am indebted to your father +for more than my start in life. Through many years of intercourse +with him, and contemplation of his character, I have gained more than +riches.--You have forced me to say this thing. I am sorry if I have +pained you. But I should not be true to the principles to which he +himself was consistent in life, and which he taught by example so many +others, if I ventured to hope that social recognition in Grenoble would +be accorded you, or to aid in any way such recognition. As long as I +live I will oppose it. There are, apparently, larger places in the world +and less humble people who will be glad to receive you. I can only +hope, as an old friend and well-wisher of your family, that you may find +happiness." + +Israel Simpson fumbled for his hat, picked it up, and left the room. For +a moment Chiltern stood like a man turned to stone, and then he pressed +the button on the wall behind him. + + + + +Volume 8. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH A MIRROR IS HELD UP + +Spring came to Highlawns, Eden tinted with myriad tender greens. +Yellow-greens, like the beech boughs over the old wall, and gentle +blue-greens, like the turf; and the waters of the lake were blue and +white in imitation of the cloud-flecked sky. It seemed to Honora, as she +sat on the garden bench, that the yellow and crimson tulips could not +open wide enough their cups to the sun. + +In these days she looked at her idol, and for the first time believed +it to be within her finite powers to measure him. She began by asking +herself if it were really she who had ruined his life, and whether he +would ultimately have redeemed himself if he had married a woman whom +the world would have recognized. Thus did the first doubt invade her +heart. It was of him she was thinking still, and always. But there was +the doubt. If he could have stood this supreme test of isolation, of the +world's laughter and scorn, although it would have made her own heavy +burden of responsibility heavier, yet could she still have rejoiced. +That he should crumble was the greatest of her punishments. + +Was he crumbling? In these months she could not quite be sure, and +she tried to shut her eyes when the little pieces fell off, to +remind herself that she must make allowances for the severity of his +disappointment. Spring was here, the spring to which he had so eagerly +looked forward, and yet the listlessness with which he went about his +work was apparent. Sometimes he did not appear at breakfast, although +Honora clung with desperation to the hour they had originally fixed: +sometimes Mr. Manning waited for him until nearly ten o'clock, only to +receive curt dismissal. He went off for long rides, alone, and to the +despair of the groom brought back the horses in a lather, with drooping +heads and heaving sides; one of them he ruined. He declared there wasn't +a horse in the stable fit to give him exercise. + +Often he sat for hours in his study, brooding, inaccessible. She had +the tennis-court rolled and marked, but the contests here were +pitifully-unequal; for the row of silver cups on his mantel, engraved +with many dates, bore witness to his athletic prowess. She wrote for +a book on solitaire, but after a while the sight of cards became +distasteful. With a secret diligence she read the reviews, and sent for +novels and memoirs which she scanned eagerly before they were begun with +him. Once, when she went into his study on an errand, she stood for a +minute gazing painfully at the cleared space on his desk where once +had lain the papers and letters relative to the life of General Angus +Chiltern. + +There were intervals in which her hope flared, in which she tasted, +fearfully and with bated breath, something that she had not thought to +know again. It was characteristic of him that his penitence was never +spoken: nor did he exhibit penitence. He seemed rather at such times +merely to become normally himself, as one who changes personality, +apparently oblivious to the moods and deeds of yesterday. And these +occasions added perplexity to her troubles. She could not reproach +him--which perhaps in any event she would have been too wise to do; +but she could not, try as she would, bring herself to the point of a +discussion of their situation. The risk, she felt, was too great; now, +at least. There were instances that made her hope that the hour might +come. + +One fragrant morning Honora came down to find him awaiting her, and +to perceive lying on her napkin certain distilled drops of the spring +sunshine. In language less poetic, diamonds to be worn in the ears. The +wheel of fashion, it appeared, had made a complete revolution since the +early days of his mother's marriage. She gave a little exclamation, and +her hand went to her heart. + +"They are Brazilian stones," he explained, with a boyish pleasure that +awoke memories and held her speechless. "I believe it's very difficult, +if not impossible, to buy them now. My father got them after the war and +I had them remounted." And he pressed them against the pink lobes of her +ears. "You look like the Queen of Sheba." + +"How do you know?" she asked tremulously. "You never saw her." + +"According to competent judges," he replied, "she was the most beautiful +woman of her time. Go upstairs and put them on." + +She shook her head. An inspiration had come to her. + +"Wait," she cried. And that morning, when Hugh had gone out, she sent +for Starling and startled him by commanding that the famous Lowestoft +set be used at dinner. He stared at her, and the corners of his mouth +twitched, and still he stood respectfully in the doorway. + +"That is all, Starling." + +"I beg pardon, madam. How--how many will there be at the table?" + +"Just Mr. Chiltern and I," she replied. But she did not look at him. + +It was superstition, undoubtedly. She was well aware that Starling had +not believed that the set would be used again. An extraordinary order, +that might well have sent him away wondering; for the Lowestoft had been +reserved for occasions. Ah, but this was to be an occasion, a festival! +The whimsical fancy grew in her mind as the day progressed, and she +longed with an unaccustomed impatience for nightfall, and anticipation +had a strange taste. Mathilde, with the sympathetic gift of her nation, +shared the excitement of her mistress in this fete. The curtains in the +pink bedroom were drawn, and on the bed, in all its splendour of lace +and roses, was spread out the dinner-gown-a chef-d'oeuvre of Madame +Barriere's as yet unworn. And no vulgar, worldly triumph was it to +adorn. + +Her heart was beating fast as she descended the stairway, bright spots +of colour flaming in her cheeks and the diamonds sparkling in her ears. +A prima donna might have guessed her feelings as she paused, a little +breathless on the wide landing under the windows. She heard a footstep. +Hugh came out of the library and stood motionless, looking up at her. +But even those who have felt the silence and the stir that prefaces the +clamorous applause of the thousands could not know the thrill that swept +her under his tribute. She came down the last flight of steps, slowly, +and stopped in front of him. + +"You are wonderful, Honora!" he said, and his voice was not quite under +control. He took her hand, that trembled in his, and he seemed to be +seeking to express something for which he could find no words. Thus may +the King have looked upon Rosamond in her bower; upon a beauty created +for the adornment of courts which he had sequestered for his eyes alone. + +Honora, as though merely by the touch of his hand in hers, divined his +thought. + +"If you think me so, dear," she whispered happily, "it's all I ask." + +And they went in to dinner as to a ceremony. It was indeed a ceremony +filled for her with some occult, sacred, meaning that she could not put +into words. A feast symbolical. Starling was sent to the wine-cellar to +bring back a cobwebbed Madeira near a century old, brought out on rare +occasions in the family. And Hugh, when his glass was filled, looked at +his wife and raised it in silence to his lips. + +She never forgot the scene. The red glow of light from the shaded +candles on the table, and the corners of the dining room filled with +gloom. The old butler, like a high priest, standing behind his master's +chair. The long windows, with the curtains drawn in the deep, panelled +arches; the carved white mantelpiece; the glint of silver on' the +sideboard, with its wine-cooler underneath,--these, spoke of generations +of respectability and achievement. Would this absorbed isolation, this +marvellous wild love of theirs, be the end of it all? Honora, as one +detached, as a ghost in the corner, saw herself in the picture with +startling clearness. When she looked up, she met her husband's eyes. +Always she met them, and in them a questioning, almost startled look +that was new. "Is it the earrings?" she asked at last. "I don't know," +he answered. "I can't tell. They seem to have changed you, but perhaps +they have brought out something in your face and eyes I have never seen +before." + +"And--you like it, Hugh?" + +"Yes, I like it," he replied, and added enigmatically, "but I don't +understand it." + +She was silent, and oddly satisfied, trusting to fate to send more +mysteries. + +Two days had not passed when that restlessness for which she watched so +narrowly revived. He wandered aimlessly about the place, and flared up +into such a sudden violent temper at one of the helpers in the fields +that the man ran as for his life, and refused to set foot again on any +of the Chiltern farms. In the afternoon he sent for Honora to ride with +him, and scolded her for keeping him waiting. And he wore a spur, +and pressed his horse so savagely that she cried out in remonstrance, +although at such times she had grown to fear him. + +"Oh, Hugh, how can you be so cruel!" + +"The beast has no spirit," he said shortly. "I'll get one that has." + +Their road wound through the western side of the estate towards misty +rolling country, in the folds of which lay countless lakes, and at +length they caught sight of an unpainted farmhouse set amidst a white +cloud of apple trees in bloom. On the doorstep, whittling, sat a +bearded, unkempt farmer with a huge frame. In answer to Hugh's question +he admitted that he had a horse for sale, stuck his knife in the step, +rose, and went off towards the barn near by; and presently reappeared, +leading by a halter a magnificent black. The animal stood jerking his +head, blowing and pawing the ground while Chiltern examined him. + +"He's been ridden?" he asked. + +The man nodded. + +Chiltern sprang to the ground and began to undo his saddle girths. A +sudden fear seized Honora. + +"Oh, Hugh, you're not going to ride him!" she exclaimed. + +"Why not? How else am I going to find out anything about him?" + +"He looks--dangerous," she faltered. + +"I'm tired of horses that haven't any life in them," he said, as he +lifted off the saddle. + +"I guess we'd better get him in the barn," said the farmer. + +Honora went behind them to witness the operation, which was not devoid +of excitement. The great beast plunged savagely when they tightened the +girths, and closed his teeth obstinately against the bit; but the farmer +held firmly to his nose and shut off his wind. They led him out from the +barn floor. + +"Your name Chiltern?" asked the farmer. + +"Yes," said Hugh, curtly. + +"Thought so," said the farmer, and he held the horse's head. + +Honora had a feeling of faintness. + +"Hugh, do be careful!" she pleaded. + +He paid no heed to her. His eyes, she noticed, had a certain feverish +glitter of animation, of impatience, such as men of his type must wear +when they go into battle. He seized the horse's mane, he put his foot +in the stirrup; the astonished animal gave a snort and jerked the bridle +from the farmer's hand. But Chiltern was in the saddle, with knees +pressed tight. + +There ensued a struggle that Honora will never forget. And although she +never again saw that farm-house, its details and surroundings come back +to her in vivid colours when she closes her eyes. The great horse in +every conceivable pose, with veins standing out and knotty muscles +twisting in his legs and neck and thighs. Once, when he dashed into the +apple trees, she gave a cry; a branch snapped, and Chiltern emerged, +still seated, with his hat gone and the blood trickling from a scratch +on his forehead. She saw him strike with his spurs, and in a twinkling +horse and rider had passed over the dilapidated remains of a fence +and were flying down the hard clay road, disappearing into a dip. A +reverberating sound, like a single stroke, told them that the bridge at +the bottom had been crossed. + +In an agony of terror, Honora followed, her head on fire, her heart +pounding faster than the hoof beats. But the animal she rode, though a +good one, was no match for the great infuriated beast which she pursued. +Presently she came to a wooded corner where the road forked thrice, and +beyond, not without difficulty,--brought her sweating mare to a stand. +The quality of her fear changed from wild terror to cold dread. A hermit +thrush, in the wood near by, broke the silence with a song inconceivably +sweet. At last she went back to the farm-house, hoping against hope +that Hugh might have returned by another road. But he was not there. The +farmer was still nonchalantly whittling. + +"Oh, how could you let any one get on a horse like that?" she cried. + +"You're his wife, ain't you?" he asked. + +Something in the man's manner seemed to compel her to answer, in spite +of the form of the question. + +"I am Mrs. Chiltern," she said. + +He was looking at her with an expression that she found +incomprehensible. His glance was penetrating, yet here again she seemed +to read compassion. He continued to gaze at her, and presently, when he +spoke, it was as though he were not addressing her at all. + +"You put me in mind of a young girl I used to know," he said; "seems +like a long time ago. You're pretty, and you're young, and ye didn't +know what you were doin,' I'll warrant. Lost your head. He has a way of +gittin' 'em--always had." + +Honora did not answer. She would have liked to have gone away, but that +which was stronger than her held her. + +"She didn't live here," he explained, waving his hand deprecatingly +towards the weather-beaten house. "We lived over near Morrisville +in them days. And he don't remember me, your husband don't. I ain't +surprised. I've got considerable older." + +Honora was trembling from head to foot, and her hands were cold. + +"I've got her picture in there, if ye'd like to look at it," he said, +after a while. + +"Oh, no!" she cried. "Oh, no!" + +"Well, I don't know as I blame you." He sat down again and began to +whittle. "Funny thing, chance," he remarked; "who'd a thought I should +have owned that there hoss, and he should have come around here to ride +it?" + +She tried to speak, but she could not. The hideous imperturbability +of the man's hatred sickened her. And her husband! The chips fell in +silence until a noise on the road caused them to look up. Chiltern was +coming back. She glanced again at the farmer, but his face was equally +incapable, or equally unwilling, to express regret. Chiltern rode into +the dooryard. The blood from the scratch on his forehead had crossed his +temple and run in a jagged line down his cheek, his very hair (as she +had sometimes seen it) was damp with perspiration, blacker, kinkier; his +eyes hard, reckless, bloodshot. So, in the past, must he have emerged +from dozens of such wilful, brutal contests with man and beast. He had +beaten the sweat-stained horse (temporarily--such was the impression +Honora received), but she knew that he would like to have killed it for +its opposition. + +"Give me my hat, will you?" he cried to the farmer. + +To her surprise the man obeyed. Chiltern leaped to the ground. + +"What do you want for him?" he demanded. + +"I'll take five hundred dollars." + +"Bring him over in the morning," said Chiltern, curtly. + +They rode homeward in silence. Honora had not been able to raise her +voice against the purchase, and she seemed powerless now to warn her +husband of the man's enmity. She was thinking, rather, of the horror of +the tragedy written on the farmer's face, to which he had given her the +key: Hugh Chiltern, to whom she had intrusted her life and granted her +all, had done this thing, ruthlessly, even as he had satisfied to-day +his unbridled cravings in maltreating a horse! And she thought of that +other woman, on whose picture she had refused to look. What was the +essential difference between that woman and herself? He had wanted them +both, he had taken them both for his pleasure, heedless of the pain +he might cause to others and to them. For her, perhaps, the higher +organism, had been reserved the higher torture. She did not know. The +vision of the girl in the outer darkness reserved for castaways was +terrible. + +Up to this point she had, as it were, been looking into one mirror. Now +another was suddenly raised behind her, and by its aid she beheld not +a single, but countless, images of herself endlessly repeated. How +many others besides this girl had there been? The question gave her +the shudder of the contemplation of eternity. It was not the first time +Honora had thought of his past, but until today it had lacked reality; +until to-day she had clung to the belief that he had been misunderstood; +until to-day she had considered those acts of his of the existence of +which she was collectively aware under the generic term of wild oats. +He had had too much money, and none had known how to control him. Now, +through this concrete example of another's experience, she was given to +understand that which she had strangely been unable to learn from her +own. And she had fancied, in her folly, that she could control him! +Unable as yet to grasp the full extent of her calamity, she rode on by +his side, until she was aware at last that they had reached the door of +the house at Highlawns. + +"You look pale," he said as he lifted her off her horse. The demon in +him, she perceived, was tired. + +"Do I?" + +"What's the matter?" + +"Nothing," she answered. + +He laughed. + +"It's confoundedly silly to get frightened that way," he declared. "The +beast only wants riding." + +Three mornings later she was seated in the garden with a frame of fancy +work. Sometimes she put it down. The weather was overcast, langourous, +and there was a feeling of rain in the air. Chiltern came in through the +gaffe, and looked at her. + +"I'm going to New York on the noon train," he said. + +"To New York?" + +"Yes. Why not?" + +"There's no reason why you shouldn't if you wish to," she replied, +picking up her frame. + +"Anything I can get you?" he asked. + +"No, thank you." + +"You've been in such a deuced queer mood the last few days I can't make +you out, Honora." + +"You ought to have learned something about women by this time," she +said. + +"It seems to me," he announced, "that we need a little livening up." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. THE RENEWAL OF AN ANCIENT HOSPITALITY + +There were six letters from him, written from a club, representing the +seven days of his absence. He made no secret of the fact that his visit +to the metropolis was in the nature of a relaxation and a change +of scene, but the letters themselves contained surprisingly little +information as to how he was employing his holiday. He had encountered +many old friends, supposedly all of the male sex: among them--most +welcome of surprises to him!--Mr. George Pembroke, a boon companion at +Harvard. And this mention of boon companionship brought up to Honora a +sufficiently vivid idea of Mr. Pembroke's characteristics. The extent +of her knowledge of this gentleman consisted in the facts that he was +a bachelor, a member of a prominent Philadelphia family, and that time +hung heavy on his hands. + +One morning she received a telegram to the effect that her husband would +be home that night, bringing three people with him. He sent his love, +but neglected to state the names and sexes of the prospective guests. +And she was still in a quandary as to what arrangements to make when +Starling appeared in answer to her ring. + +"You will send the omnibus to the five o'clock train," she said. +"There will be three extra places at dinner, and tea when Mr. Chiltern +arrives." + +Although she strove to speak indifferently, she was sure from the way +the old man looked at her that her voice had not been quite steady. Of +late her curious feeling about him had increased in intensity; and many +times, during this week she had spent alone, she had thought that his +eyes had followed her with sympathy. She did not resent this. Her world +having now contracted to that wide house, there was a comfort in knowing +that there was one in it to whom she could turn in need. For she felt +that she could turn to Starling; he alone, apparently, had measured +the full depth of her trouble; nay, had silently predicted it from +the beginning. And to-day, as he stood before her, she had an almost +irresistible impulse to speak. Just a word-a human word would have been +such a help to her! And how ridiculous the social law that kept the old +man standing there, impassive, respectful, when this existed between +them! Her tragedy was his tragedy; not in the same proportion, perhaps; +nevertheless, he had the air of one who would die of it. + +And she? Would she die? What would become of her? When she thought of +the long days and months and years that stretched ahead of her, she +felt that her soul would not be able to survive the process of steady +degradation to which it was sure to be subjected. For she was a +prisoner: the uttermost parts of the earth offered no refuge. To-day, +she knew, was to see the formal inauguration of that process. She had +known torture, but it had been swift, obliterating, excruciating. And +hereafter it was to be slow, one turn at a time of the screws, squeezing +by infinitesimal degrees the life out of her soul. And in the end--most +fearful thought of all--in the end, painless. Painless! She buried her +head in her arms on the little desk, shaken by sobs. + +How she fought that day to compose herself, fought and prayed! Prayed +wildly to a God whose help, nevertheless, she felt she had forfeited, +who was visiting her with just anger. At half-past four she heard the +carriage on the far driveway, going to the station, and she went down +and walked across the lawn to the pond, and around it; anything to keep +moving. She hurried back to the house just in time to reach the hall as +the omnibus backed up. And the first person she saw descend, after Hugh, +was Mrs. Kame. + +"Here we are, Honora," she cried. "I hope you're glad to see us, and +that you'll forgive our coming so informally. You must blame Hugh. We've +brought Adele." + +The second lady was, indeed, none other than Mrs. Eustace Rindge, +formerly Mrs. Dicky Farnham. And she is worth--even at this belated +stage in our chronicle an attempted sketch, or at least an attempted +impression. She was fair, and slim as a schoolgirl; not very tall, +not exactly petite; at first sight she might have been taken for a +particularly immature debutante, and her dress was youthful and rather +mannish. Her years, at this period of her career, were in truth but two +and twenty, yet she had contrived, in the comparatively brief time since +she had reached the supposed age of discretion, to marry two men and +build two houses, and incidentally to see a considerable portion of what +is known as the world. The suspicion that she was not as innocent as a +dove came to one, on closer inspection, as a shock: her eyes were tired, +though not from loss of sleep; and her manner--how shall it be described +to those whose happy lot in life has never been to have made the +acquaintance of Mrs. Rindge's humbler sisters who have acquired--more +coarsely, it is true--the same camaraderie? She was one of those for +whom, seemingly, sex does not exist. Her air of good-fellowship with men +was eloquent of a precise knowledge of what she might expect from them, +and she was prepared to do her own policing,--not from any deep moral +convictions. She belonged, logically, to that world which is disposed +to take the law into its own hands, and she was the possessor of five +millions of dollars. + +"I came along," she said to Honora, as she gave her hand-bag to a +footman. "I hope you don't mind. Abby and I were shopping and we ran +into Hugh and Georgie yesterday at Sherry's, and we've been together +ever since. Not quite that--but almost. Hugh begged us to come up, and +there didn't seem to be any reason why we shouldn't, so we telephoned +down to Banbury for our trunks and maids, and we've played bridge all +the way. By the way, Georgie, where's my pocket-book?" + +Mr. Pembroke handed it over, and was introduced by Hugh. He looked at +Honora, and his glance somehow betokened that he was in the habit of +looking only once. He had apparently made up his mind about her before +he saw her. But he looked again, evidently finding her at variance with +a preconceived idea, and this time she flushed a little under his stare, +and she got the impression that Mr. Pembroke was a man from whom few +secrets of a certain kind were hid. She felt that he had seized, at a +second glance, a situation that she had succeeded in hiding from the +women. He was surprised, but cynically so. He was the sort of person +who had probably possessed at Harvard the knowledge of the world of +a Tammany politician; he had long ago written his book--such as it +was--and closed it: or, rather, he had worked out his system at a +precocious age, and it had lasted him ever since. He had decided that +undergraduate life, freed from undergraduate restrictions, was a good +thing. And he did not, even in these days, object to breaking something +valuable occasionally. + +His physical attributes are more difficult to describe, so closely were +they allied to those which, for want of a better word, must be called +mental. He was neither tall nor short, he was well fed, but hard, his +shoulders too broad, his head a little large. If he should have happened +to bump against one, the result would have been a bruise--not for +him. His eyes were blue, his light hair short, and there was a slight +baldness beginning; his face was red-tanned. There was not the slightest +doubt that he could be effectively rude, and often was; but it was +evident, for some reason, that he meant to be gracious (for Mr. +Pembroke) to Honora. Perhaps this was the result of the second glance. +One of his name had not lacked, indeed, for instructions in gentility. +It must not be thought that she was in a condition to care much about +what Mr. Pembroke thought or did, and yet she felt instinctively that he +had changed his greeting between that first and second glance. + +"I hope you'll forgive my coming in this way," he said. "I'm an old +friend of Hugh's." + +"I'm very glad to have Hugh's friends," she answered. + +He looked at her again. + +"Is tea ready?" inquired Mrs. Kame. "I'm famished." And, as they walked +through the house to the garden, where the table was set beside the +stone seat: "I don't see how you ever can leave this place, Honora. +I've always wanted to come here, but it's even more beautiful than I +thought." + +"It's very beautiful," said Honora. + +"I'll have a whiskey and soda, if I may," announced Mrs. Rindge. "Open +one, Georgie." + +"The third to-day," said Mr. Pembroke, sententiously, as he obeyed. + +"I don't care. I don't see what business it is of yours." + +"Except to open them," he replied. + +"You'd have made a fortune as a barkeeper," she observed, +dispassionately, as she watched the process. + +"He's made fortunes for a good many," said Chiltern. + +"Not without some expert assistance I could mention," Mr. Pembroke +retorted. + +At this somewhat pointed reference to his ancient habits, Chiltern +laughed. + +"You've each had three to-day yourselves," said Mrs. Rindge, in whose +bosom Mr. Pembroke's remark evidently rankled, "without counting those +you had before you left the club." + +Afterwards Mrs. Kame expressed a desire to walk about a little, a +proposal received with disfavour by all but Honora, who as hostess +responded. + +"I feel perfectly delightful," declared Mrs. Rindge. "What's the use of +moving about?" And she sank back in the cushions of her chair. + +This observation was greeted with unrestrained merriment by Mr. Pembroke +and Hugh. Honora, sick at heart, led Mrs. Kame across the garden and +through the gate in the wall. It was a perfect evening of early June, +the great lawn a vivid green in the slanting light. All day the cheerful +music of the horse-mowers had been heard, and the air was fragrant +with the odour of grass freshly cut. The long shadows of the maples and +beeches stretched towards the placid surface of the lake, dimpled here +and there by a fish's swirl: the spiraeas were laden as with freshly +fallen snow, a lone Judas-tree was decked in pink. The steep pastures +beyond the water were touched with gold, while to the northward, on the +distant hills, tender blue lights gathered lovingly around the copses. +Mrs. Kame sighed. + +"What a terrible thing it is," she said, "that we are never satisfied! +It's the men who ruin all this for us, I believe, and prevent our +enjoying it. Look at Adele." + +Honora had indeed looked at her. + +"I found out the other day what is the matter with her. She's madly in +love with Dicky." + +"With--with her former husband?" + +"Yes, with poor little innocent Dicky Farnham, who's probably still +congratulating himself, like a canary bird that's got out of a cage. +Somehow Dicky's always reminded me of a canary; perhaps it's his name. +Isn't it odd that she should be in love with him?" + +"I think," replied Honora, slowly, "that it's a tragedy." + +"It is a tragedy," Mrs. Kame hastily agreed. "To me, this case is one of +the most incomprehensible aspects of the tender passion. Adele's idea +of existence is a steeplechase with nothing but water-jumps, Dicky's +to loiter around in a gypsy van, and sit in the sun. During his brief +matrimonial experience with her, he nearly died for want of breath--or +rather the life was nearly shaken out of him. And yet she wants Dicky +again. She'd run away with him to-morrow if he should come within +hailing distance of her." + +"And her husband?" asked Honora. + +"Eustace? Did you ever see him? That accounts for your question. He only +left France long enough to come over here and make love to her, and he +swears he'll never leave it again. If she divorces him, he'll have to +have alimony." + +At last Honora was able to gain her own room, but even seclusion, though +preferable to the companionship of her guests, was almost intolerable. +The tragedy of Mrs. Rindge had served--if such a thing could be--to +enhance her own; a sudden spectacle of a woman in a more advanced stage +of desperation. Would she, Honora, ever become like that? Up to the +present she felt that suffering had refined her, and a great love had +burned away all that was false. But now--now that her god had turned to +clay, what would happen? Desperation seemed possible, notwithstanding +the awfulness of the example. No, she would never come to that! And +she repeated it over and over to herself as she dressed, as though to +strengthen her will. + +During her conversation with Mrs. Kame she had more than once suspected, +in spite of her efforts, that the lady had read her state of mind. +For Mrs. Kame's omissions were eloquent to the discerning: Chiltern's +relatives had been mentioned with a casualness intended to imply that no +breach existed, and the fiction that Honora could at any moment take up +her former life delicately sustained. Mrs. Kame had adaptably chosen the +attitude, after a glance around her, that Honora preferred Highlawns +to the world: a choice of which she let it be known that she approved, +while deploring that a frivolous character put such a life out of the +question for herself. She made her point without over-emphasis. On +the other hand, Honora had read Mrs. Kame. No very careful perusal +was needed to convince her that the lady was unmoral, and that in +characteristics she resembled the chameleon. But she read deeper. She +perceived that Mrs. Kame was convinced that she, Honora, would adjust +herself to the new conditions after a struggle; and that while she had +a certain sympathy in the struggle, Mrs. Kame was of opinion that +the sooner it was over with the better. All women were born to be +disillusionized. Such was the key, at any rate, to the lady's conduct +that evening at dinner, when she capped the anecdotes of Mr. Pembroke +and Mrs. Rindge and even of Chiltern with others not less risque but +more fastidiously and ingeniously suggestive. The reader may be spared +their recital. + +Since the meeting in the restaurant the day before, which had resulted +in Hugh's happy inspiration that the festival begun should be continued +indefinitely at Highlawns, a kind of freemasonry had sprung up between +the four. Honora found herself, mercifully, outside the circle: for such +was the lively character of the banter that a considerable adroitness +was necessary to obtain, between the talk and--laughter, the ear of +the company. And so full were they of the reminiscences which had been +crowded into the thirty hours or so they had spent together, that her +comparative silence remained unnoticed. To cite an example, Mr. Pembroke +was continually being addressed as the Third Vice-president, an allusion +that Mrs. Rindge eventually explained. + +"You ought to have been with us coming up on the train," she cried to +Honora; "I thought surely we'd be put off. We were playing bridge in +the little room at the end of the car when the conductor came for our +tickets. Georgie had 'em in his pocket, but he told the man to go +away, that he was the third vice-president of the road, and we were his +friends. The conductor asked him if he were Mr. Wheeler, or some such +name, and Georgie said he was surprised he didn't know him. Well, the +man stood there in the door, and Georgie picked up his hand and made it +hearts--or was it diamonds, Georgie?" + +"Spades," said that gentleman, promptly. + +"At any rate," Mrs. Rindge continued, "we all began to play, although +we were ready to blow up with laughter, and after a while Georgie looked +around and said, 'What, are you there yet?' My dear, you ought to +have seen the conductor's face! He said it was his duty to establish +Georgie's identity, or something like that, and Georgie told him to +get off at the next station and buy Waring's Magazine--was that it, +Georgie?" + +"How the deuce should I know?" + +"Well, some such magazine. Georgie said he'd find an article in it +on the Railroad Kings and Princes of America, and that his picture, +Georgie's, was among the very first!" At this juncture in her narrative +Mrs. Rindge shrieked with laughter, in which she was joined by Mrs. Kame +and Hugh; and she pointed a forefinger across the table at Mr. Pembroke, +who went on solemnly eating his dinner. "Georgie gave him ten cents +with which to buy the magazine," she added a little hysterically. "Well, +there was a frightful row, and a lot of men came down to that end of the +car, and we had to shut the door. The conductor said the most outrageous +things, and Georgie pretended to be very indignant, too, and gave him +the tickets under protest. He told Georgie he ought to be in an asylum +for the criminally insane, and Georgie advised him to get a photograph +album of the high officials of the railroad. The conductor said +Georgie's picture was probably in the rogue's gallery. And we lost two +packs of cards out of the window." + +Such had been the more innocent if eccentric diversions with which they +had whiled away the time. When dinner was ended, a renewal of the bridge +game was proposed, for it had transpired at the dinner-table that Mrs. +Rindge and Hugh had been partners all day, as a result of which there +was a considerable balance in their favour. This balance Mr. Pembroke +was palpably anxious to wipe out, or at least to reduce. But Mrs. Kame +insisted that Honora should cut in, and the others supported her. + +"We tried our best to get a man for you," said Mrs. Rindge to Honora. +"Didn't we, Abby? But in the little time we had, it was impossible. The +only man we saw was Ned Carrington, and Hugh said he didn't think you'd +want him." + +"Hugh showed a rare perception," said Honora. + +Be it recorded that she smiled. One course had been clear to her from +the first, although she found it infinitely difficult to follow; she was +determined, cost what it might, to carry through her part of the affair +with dignity, but without stiffness. This is not the place to dwell upon +the tax to her strength. + +"Come on, Honora," said Hugh, "cut in." His tone was of what may be +termed a rough good nature. She had not seen him alone since his +return, but he had seemed distinctly desirous that she should enjoy the +festivities he had provided. And not to yield would have been to betray +herself. + +The game, with its intervals of hilarity, was inaugurated in the +library, and by midnight it showed no signs of abating. At this hour the +original four occupied the table for the second time, and endurance has +its limits. The atmosphere of Liberty Hall that prevailed made Honora's +retirement easier. + +"I'm sure you won't mind if I go to bed," she said. "I've been so used +to the routine of--of the chickens." She smiled. "And I've spent the day +in the open air." + +"Certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Kame; "I know exactly how one feels in +the country. I'm sure it's dreadfully late. We'll have one more rubber, +and then stop." + +"Oh, don't stop," replied Honora; "please play as long as you like." + +They didn't stop--at least after one more rubber. Honora, as she lay +in the darkness, looking through the open square of her window at the +silver stars, heard their voiced and their laughter floating up at +intervals from below, and the little clock on her mantel had struck the +hour of three when the scraping of chairs announced the breaking up +of the party. And even after that an unconscionable period elapsed, +beguiled, undoubtedly, by anecdotes; spells of silence--when she thought +they had gone--ending in more laughter. Finally there was a crash of +breaking glass, a climax of uproarious mirth, and all was still... + +She could not have slept much, but the birds were singing when she +finally awoke, the sunlight pouring into her window: And the hands of +her clock pointed to half-past seven when she rang her bell. It was a +relief to breakfast alone, or at least to sip her coffee in solitude. +And the dew was still on the grass as she crossed the wide lawn and +made her way around the lake to the path that entered the woods at its +farther end. She was not tired, yet she would have liked to have lain +down under the green panoply of the forest, where the wild flowers shyly +raised sweet faces to be kissed, and lose herself in the forgetfulness +of an eternal sleep; never to go back again to an Eden contaminated. +But when she lingered the melody of a thrush pierced her through and +through. At last she turned and reluctantly retraced her steps, as one +whose hour of reprieve has expired. + +If Mrs. Rindge had a girlish air when fully arrayed for the day, she +looked younger and more angular still in that article of attire known as +a dressing gown. And her eyes, Honora remarked, were peculiarly bright: +glittering, perhaps, would better express the impression they gave; as +though one got a glimpse through them of an inward consuming fire. Her +laughter rang shrill and clear as Honora entered the hall by the rear +door, and the big clock proclaimed that the hour was half-past eleven. +Hugh and Mr. Pembroke were standing at the foot of the stairs, gazing +upward. And Honora, following their glances, beheld the two ladies, in +the negligee referred to above, with their elbows on the railing of +the upper hall and their faces between their hands, engaged in a lively +exchange of compliments with the gentlemen. Mrs. Kame looked sleepy. + +"Such a night!" she said, suppressing a yawn. "My dear, you did well to +go to bed." + +"And to cap it all," cried Mrs. Rindge, "Georgie fell over backwards in +one of those beautiful Adam chairs, and there's literally nothing left +of it. If an ocean steamer had hit it, or a freight train, it couldn't +have been more thoroughly demolished." + +"You pushed me," declared Mr. Pembroke. + +"Did I, Hugh? I barely touched him." + +"You knocked him into a cocked hat," said Hugh. "And if you'd been in +that kimono, you could have done it even easier." + +"Georgie broke the whole whiskey service,--or whatever it is," Mrs. +Rindge went on, addressing Honora again. "He fell into it." + +"He's all right this morning," observed Mrs. Kame, critically. + +"I think I'll take to swallowing swords and glass and things in public. +I can do it so well," said Mr. Pembroke. + +"I hope you got what you like for breakfast," said Honora to the ladies. + +"Hurry up and come down, Adele," said Hugh, "if you want to look over +the horses before lunch." + +"It's Georgie's fault," replied Mrs. Rindge; "he's been standing in the +door of my sitting-room for a whole half-hour talking nonsense." + +A little later they all set out for the stables. These buildings at +Highlawns, framed by great trees, were old-fashioned and picturesque, +surrounding three sides of a court, with a yellow brick wall on the +fourth. The roof of the main building was capped by a lantern, the home +of countless pigeons. Mrs. Rindge was in a habit, and one by one the +saddle horses were led out, chiefly for her inspection; and she seemed +to Honora to become another woman as she looked them over with a +critical eye and discussed them with Hugh and O'Grady, the stud-groom, +and talked about pedigrees and strains. For she was renowned in this +department of sport on many fields, both for recklessness and skill. + +"Where did you get that brute, Hugh?" she asked presently. + +Honora, who had been talking to Pembroke, looked around with a start. +And at the sight of the great black horse, bought on that unforgettable +day, she turned suddenly faint. + +"Over here in the country about ten miles," Chiltern was saying. "I +heard of him, but I didn't expect anything until I went to look at him +last week." + +"What do you call him?" asked Mrs. Rindge. + +"I haven't named him." + +"I'll give you a name." + +Chiltern looked at her. "What is it?" he said. + +"Oblivion," she replied: + +"By George, Adele," he exclaimed, "you have a way of hitting it off!" + +"Will you let me ride him this afternoon?" she asked. + +"I'm a--a candidate for oblivion." She laughed a little and her eyes +shone feverishly. + +"No you don't," he said. "I'm giving you the grey. He's got enough in +him for any woman--even for you: And besides, I don't think the black +ever felt a side saddle, or any other kind, until last week." + +"I've got another habit," she said eagerly. "I'd rather ride him +astride. I'll match you to see who has him." + +Chiltern laughed. + +"No you don't," he repeated. "I'll ride him to-day, and consider it +to-morrow." + +"I--I think I'll go back to the house," said Honora to Pembroke. "It's +rather hot here in the sun." + +"I'm not very keen about sunshine, either," he declared. + +At lunch she was unable to talk; to sustain, at least, a conversation. +That word oblivion, which Mrs. Rindge had so aptly applied to the horse, +was constantly on her lips, and it would not have surprised her if she +had spoken it. She felt as though a heavy weight lay on her breast, and +to relieve its intolerable pressure drew in her breath deeply. She was +wild with fear. The details of the great room fixed themselves indelibly +in her brain; the subdued light, the polished table laden with silver +and glass, the roses, and the purple hot-house grapes. All this seemed +in some way to be an ironic prelude to disaster. Hugh, pausing in his +badinage with Mrs. Rindge, looked at her. + +"Cheer up, Honora," he said. + +"I'm afraid this first house-party is too much for her," said Mrs. Kame. + +Honora made some protest that seemed to satisfy them, tried to rally +herself, and succeeded sufficiently to pass muster. After lunch they +repaired again to the bridge table, and at four Hugh went upstairs +to change into his riding clothes. Five minutes longer she controlled +herself, and then made some paltry excuse, indifferent now as to what +they said or thought, and followed him. She knocked at his dressing-room +door and entered. He was drawing on his boots. "Hello, Honora," he said. + +Honora turned to his man, and dismissed him. + +"I wish to speak to Mr. Chiltern alone." + +Chiltern paused in his tugging at the straps, and looked up at her. + +"What's the matter with you to-day, Honora?" he asked. "You looked like +the chief mourner at a funeral all through lunch." + +He was a little on edge, that she knew. He gave another tug at the boot, +and while she was still hesitating, he began again. + +"I ought to apologize, I know, for bringing these people up without +notice, but I didn't suppose you'd object when you understood how +naturally it all came about. I thought a little livening up, as I said, +wouldn't, hurt us. We've had a quiet winter, to put it mildly." He +laughed a little. "I didn't have a chance to see you until this morning, +and when I went to your room they told me you'd gone out." + +"Hugh," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder. "It isn't the guests. +If you want people, and they amuse you, I'm--I'm glad to have them. And +if I've seemed to be--cold to them, I'm sorry. I tried my best--I mean I +did not intend to be cold. I'll sit up all night with them, if you like. +And I didn't come to reproach you, Hugh. I'll never do that--I've got no +right to." + +She passed her hand over her eyes. If she had any wrongs, if she had +suffered any pain, the fear that obsessed her obliterated all. In spite +of her disillusionment, in spite of her newly acquired ability to see +him as he was, enough love remained to scatter, when summoned, her pride +to the winds. + +Having got on both boots, he stood up. + +"What's the trouble, then?" he asked. And he took an instant's hold of +her chin--a habit he had--and smiled at her. + +He little knew how sublime, in its unconscious effrontery, his question +was! She tried to compose herself, that she might be able to present +comprehensively to his finite masculine mind the ache of today. + +"Hugh, it's that black horse." She could not bring herself to pronounce +the name Mrs. Rindge had christened him. + +"What about him?" he said, putting on his waistcoat. + +"Don't ride him!" she pleaded. "I--I'm afraid of him--I've been afraid +of him ever since that day. + +"It may be a foolish feeling, I know. Sometimes the feelings that hurt +women most are foolish. If I tell you that if you ride him you will +torture me, I'm sure you'll grant what I ask. It's such a little thing +and it means so much--so much agony to me. I'd do anything for you--give +up anything in the world at your slightest wish. Don't ride him!" + +"This is a ridiculous fancy of yours, Honora. The horse is all right. +I've ridden dozens of worse ones." + +"Oh, I'm sure he isn't," she cried; "call it fancy, call it instinct, +call it anything you like--but I feel it, Hugh. That woman--Mrs. +Rindge--knows something about horses, and she said he was a brute." + +"Yes," he interrupted, with a short laugh, "and she wants to ride him." + +"Hugh, she's reckless. I--I've been watching her since she came here, +and I'm sure she's reckless with--with a purpose." + +"You're morbid," he said. "She's one of the best sportswomen in the +country--that's the reason she wanted to ride the horse. Look here, +Honora, I'd accede to any reasonable request. But what do you expect me +to do?" he demanded; "go down and say I'm afraid to ride him? or that +my wife doesn't want me to? I'd never hear the end of it. And the first +thing Adele would do would be to jump on him herself--a little wisp of a +woman that looks as if she couldn't hold a Shetland pony! Can't you see +that what you ask is impossible?" + +He started for the door to terminate a conversation which had already +begun to irritate him. For his anger, in these days, was very near the +surface. She made one more desperate appeal. + +"Hugh--the man who sold him--he knew the horse was dangerous. I'm sure +he did, from something he said to me while you were gone." + +"These country people are all idiots and cowards," declared Chiltern. +"I've known 'em a good while, and they haven't got the spirit of mongrel +dogs. I was a fool to think that I could do anything for them. They're +kind and neighbourly, aren't they?" he exclaimed. "If that old rascal +flattered himself he deceived me, he was mistaken. He'd have been +mightily pleased if the beast had broken my neck." + +"Hugh!" + +"I can't, Honora. That's all there is to it, I can't. Now don't cut up +about nothing. I'm sorry, but I've got to go. Adele's waiting." + +He came back, kissed her hurriedly, turned and opened the door. She +followed him into the hallway, knowing that she had failed, knowing that +she never could have succeeded. There she halted and watched him go down +the stairs, and stand with her hands tightly pressed together: voices +reached her, a hurrah from George Pembroke, and the pounding of hoofs on +the driveway. It had seemed such a little thing to ask! + +But she did not dwell upon this, now, when fear was gnawing her: how she +had humbled her pride for days and weeks and months for him, and how +he had refused her paltry request lest he should be laughed at. Her +reflections then were not on his waning love. She was filled with the +terror of losing him--of losing all that remained to her in the world. +Presently she began to walk slowly towards the stairs, descended +them, and looked around her. The hall, at least, had not changed. She +listened, and a bee hummed in through the open doorway. A sudden +longing for companionship possessed her-no matter whose; and she walked +hurriedly, as though she were followed, through the empty rooms +until she came upon George Pembroke stretched at full length on the +leather-covered lounge in the library. He opened his eyes, and got up +with alacrity. + +"Please don't move," she said. + +He looked at her. Although his was not what may be called a sympathetic +temperament, he was not without a certain knowledge of women; +superficial, perhaps. But most men of his type have seen them in +despair; and since he was not related to this particular despair, what +finer feelings he had were the more easily aroused. It must have been +clear to her then that she had lost the power to dissemble, all the +clearer because of Mr. Pembroke's cheerfulness. + +"I wasn't going to sleep," he assured her. "Circumstantial evidence is +against me, I know. Where's Abby? reading French literature?" + +"I haven't seen her," replied Honora. + +"She usually goes to bed with a play at this hour. It's a horrid +habit--going to bed, I mean. Don't you think? Would you mind showing me +about a little?" + +"Do you really wish to?" asked Honora, incredulously. + +"I haven't been here since my senior year," said Mr. Pembroke. "If the +old General were alive, he could probably tell you something of that +visit--he wrote to my father about it. I always liked the place, +although the General was something of a drawback. Fine old man, with no +memory." + +"I should have thought him to have had a good memory," she said. + +"I have always been led to believe that he was once sent away from +college in his youth,--for his health," he explained significantly. "No +man has a good memory who can't remember that. Perhaps the battle of +Gettysburg wiped it out." + +Thus, in his own easy-going fashion, Mr. Pembroke sought to distract +her. She put on a hat, and they walked about, the various scenes +recalling incidents of holidays he had spent at Highlawns. And after a +while Honora was thankful that chance had sent her in this hour to him +rather than to Mrs. Kame. For the sight, that morning of this lady in +her dressing-gown over the stairway, had seemingly set the seal on a +growing distaste. Her feeling had not been the same about Mrs. Rindge: +Mrs. Kame's actions savoured of deliberate choice, of an inherent and +calculating wickedness. + +Had the distraction of others besides himself been the chief business of +Mr. Pembroke's life, he could not have succeeded better that afternoon. +He must be given this credit: his motives remain problematical; at +length he even drew laughter from her. The afternoon wore on, they +returned to the garden for tea, and a peaceful stillness continued to +reign about them, the very sky smiling placidly at her fears. Not by +assuring her that Hugh was unusual horseman, that he had passed through +many dangers beside which this was a bagatelle, could the student of the +feminine by her side have done half so well. And it may have been that +his success encouraged him as he saw emerging, as the result of his +handiwork, an unexpectedly attractive--if still somewhat serious-woman +from the gloom that had enveloped her. That she should still have her +distrait moments was but natural. + +He talked to her largely about Hugh, of whom he appeared sincerely fond. +The qualities which attracted Mr. Pembroke in his own sex were somewhat +peculiar, and seemingly consisted largely in a readiness to drop the +business at hand, whatever it might be, at the suggestion of a friend to +do something else; the "something else," of course, to be the conception +of an ingenious mind. And it was while he was in the midst of an +anecdote proving the existence of this quality in his friend that he +felt a sudden clutch on his arm. + +They listened. Faintly, very faintly, could be heard the sound of hoof +beats; rapid, though distant. + +"Do you hear?" she whispered, and still held his arm. + +"It's just like them to race back," said Pembroke, with admirable +nonchalance. + +"But they wouldn't come back at this time--it's too early. Hugh always +takes long rides. They started for Hubbard's--it's twelve miles." + +"Adele changes her mind every minute of the day," he said. + +"Listen!" she cried, and her clutch tightened. The hoof beats grew +louder. "It's only one--it's only one horse!" + +Before he could answer, she was already halfway up the garden path +towards the house. He followed her as she ran panting through the +breakfast room, the dining room, and drawing-room, and when they reached +the hall, Starling, the butler, and two footmen were going out at the +door. A voice--Mrs. Kame's--cried out, "What is it?" over the stairs, +but they paid no heed. As they reached the steps they beheld the slight +figure of Mrs. Rindge on a flying horse coming towards them up the +driveway. Her black straw hat had slipped to the back of her neck, her +hair was awry, her childish face white as paper. Honora put her hand to +her heart. There was no need to tell her the news--she had known these +many hours. + +Mrs. Rindge's horse came over the round grass-plot of the circle and +planted his fore feet in the turf as she pulled him up. She lurched +forward. It was Starling who lifted her off--George Pembroke stood by +Honora. + +"My God, Adele," he exclaimed, "why don't you speak?" + +She was staring at Honora. + +"I can't!" she cried. "I can't tell you--it's too terrible! The horse--" +she seemed to choke. + +It was Honora who went up to her with a calmness that awed them. + +"Tell me," she said, "is he dead?" + +Mrs. Rindge nodded, and broke into hysterical sobbing. + +"And I wanted to ride him myself," she sobbed, as they led her up the +steps. + +In less than an hour they brought him home and laid him in the room in +which he had slept from boyhood, and shut the door. Honora looked into +his face. It was calm at last, and his body strangely at rest. The +passions which had tortured it and driven it hither and thither through +a wayward life had fled: the power gone that would brook no guiding +hand, that had known no master. It was not until then that she fell upon +him, weeping.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. IN WHICH MR. ERWIN SEEK PARIS + +As she glanced around the sitting-room of her apartment in Paris one +September morning she found it difficult, in some respects, to realize +that she had lived in it for more than five years. After Chiltern's +death she had sought a refuge, and she had found it here: a refuge in +which she meant--if her intention may be so definitely stated--to pass +the remainder of her days. + +As a refuge it had become dear to her. When first she had entered it she +had looked about her numbly, thankful for walls and roof, thankful for +its remoteness from the haunts of the prying: as a shipwrecked castaway +regards, at the first light, the cave into which he has stumbled into +the darkness-gratefully. And gradually, castaway that she felt herself +to be, she had adorned it lovingly, as one above whose horizon the sails +of hope were not to rise; filled it with friends not chosen in a day, +whose faithful ministrations were not to cease. Her books, but only +those worthy to be bound and read again; the pictures she had bought +when she had grown to know what pictures were; the music she had come to +love for its eternal qualities--these were her companions. + +The apartment was in the old quarter across the Seine, and she had found +it by chance. The ancient family of which this hotel had once been the +home would scarce have recognized, if they had returned the part of it +Honora occupied. The room in which she mostly lived was above the +corner of the quiet street, and might have been more aptly called +a sitting-room than a salon. Its panels were the most delicate of +blue-gray, fantastically designed and outlined by ribbings of blue. +Some of them contained her pictures. The chairs, the sofas, the little +tabourets, were upholstered in yellow, their wood matching the panels. +Above the carved mantel of yellowing marble was a quaintly shaped mirror +extending to the high ceiling, and flanked on either side by sconces. +The carpet was a golden brown, the hangings in the tall windows yellow. +And in the morning the sun came in, not boisterously, but as a well-bred +and cheerful guest. An amiable proprietor had permitted her also to add +a wrought-iron balcony as an adjunct to this room, and sometimes she sat +there on the warmer days reading under the seclusion of an awning, +or gazing at the mysterious facades of the houses opposite, or at +infrequent cabs or pedestrians below. + +An archway led out of the sitting-room into a smaller room, once the +boudoir of a marquise, now Honora's library. This was in blue and gold, +and she had so far modified the design of the decorator as to replace +the mirrors of the cases with glass; she liked to see her books. Beyond +the library was a dining room in grey, with dark red hangings; it +overlooked the forgotten garden of the hotel. + +One item alone of news from the outer world, vital to her, had drifted +to her retreat. Newspapers filled her with dread, but it was from a +newspaper, during the first year of her retirement, that she had learned +of the death of Howard Spence. A complication of maladies was mentioned, +but the true underlying cause was implied in the article, and this had +shocked but not surprised her. A ferment was in progress in her own +country, the affairs of the Orange Trust Company being investigated, and +its president under indictment at the hour of his demise. Her feelings +at the time, and for months after, were complex. She had been moved +to deep pity, for in spite of what he had told her of his business +transactions, it was impossible for her to think of him as a criminal. +That he had been the tool of others, she knew, but it remained a +question in her mind how clearly he had perceived the immorality of his +course, and of theirs. He had not been given to casuistry, and he had +been brought up in a school the motto of which he had once succinctly +stated: the survival of the fittest. He had not been, alas, one of those +to survive. + +Honora had found it impossible to unravel the tangled skein of their +relationship, and to assign a definite amount of blame to each. She did +not shirk hers, and was willing to accept a full measure. That she had +done wrong in marrying him, and again in leaving him to marry another +man, she acknowledged freely. Wrong as she knew this to have been, +severely though she had been punished for it, she could not bring +herself to an adequate penitence. She tried to remember him as he had +been at Silverdale, and in the first months of their marriage, and not +as he had afterwards become. There was no question in her mind, now that +it was given her to see things more clearly, that she might have tried +harder, much harder, to make their marriage a success. He might, indeed, +have done more to protect and cherish her. It was a man's part to guard +a woman against the evils with which she had been surrounded. On the +other hand, she could not escape the fact, nor did she attempt to escape +it, that she had had the more light of the two: and that, though the +task were formidable, she might have fought to retain that light and +infuse him with it. + +That she did not hold herself guiltless is the important point. Many of +her hours were spent in retrospection. She was, in a sense, as one dead, +yet retaining her faculties; and these became infinitely keen now that +she was deprived of the power to use them as guides through life. She +felt that the power had come too late, like a legacy when one is old. +And she contemplated the Honora of other days--of the flesh, as though +she were now the spirit departed from that body; sorrowfully, poignantly +regretful of the earthly motives, of the tarnished ideals by which it +had been animated and led to destruction. + +Even Hugh Chiltern had left her no illusions. She thought of him at +times with much tenderness; whether she still loved him or not she +could not say. She came to the conclusion that all capacity for intense +feeling had been burned out of her. And she found that she could permit +her mind to rest upon no period of her sojourn at Grenoble without a +sense of horror; there had been no hour when she had seemed secure from +haunting terror, no day that had not added its mite to the gathering +evidence of an ultimate retribution. And it was like a nightmare to +summon again this spectacle of the man going to pieces under her +eyes. The whole incident in her life as time wore on assumed an aspect +bizarre, incredible, as the follies of a night of madness appear in the +saner light of morning. Her great love had bereft her of her senses, for +had the least grain of sanity remained to her she might have known that +the thing they attempted was impossible of accomplishment. + +Her feeling now, after four years, might be described as relief. To +employ again the figure of the castaway, she often wondered why she +of all others had been rescued from the tortures of slow drowning and +thrown up on an island. What had she done above the others to deserve +preservation? It was inevitable that she should on occasions picture to +herself the years with him that would have stretched ahead, even as the +vision of them had come to her that morning when, in obedience to his +telegram, she had told Starling to prepare for guests. Her escape had +indeed been miraculous! + +Although they had passed through a ceremony, the conviction had never +taken root in her that she had been married to Chiltern. The tie that +had united her to him had not been sacred, though it had been no less +binding; more so, in fact. That tie would have become a shackle. +Her perception of this, after his death, had led her to instruct her +attorney to send back to his relatives all but a small income from his +estate, enough for her to live on during her lifetime. There had been +some trouble about this matter; Mrs. Grainger, in particular, had +surprised her in making objections, and had finally written a letter +which Honora received with a feeling akin to gratitude. Whether her own +action had softened this lady's feelings, she never understood; she +had cherished the letter for its unexpectedly charitable expressions. +Chiltern's family had at last agreed to accept the estate on the +condition that the income mentioned should be tripled. And to this +Honora had consented. Money had less value than ever in her eyes. + +She lived here in Paris in what may be called a certain peace, made no +demands upon the world, and had no expectations from it. She was now in +half mourning, and intended to remain so. Her isolation was of her own +choice, if a stronger expression be not used. She was by no means an +enforced outcast. And she was even aware that a certain sympathy for her +had grown up amongst her former friends which had spread to the colony +of her compatriots in Paris; in whose numbers there were some, by no +means unrecognized, who had defied the conventions more than she. Hugh +Chiltern's reputation, and the general knowledge of his career, had no +doubt aided to increase this sympathy, but the dignity of her conduct +since his death was at the foundation of it. Sometimes, on her walks +and drives, she saw people bowing to her, and recognized friends or +acquaintances of what seemed to her like a former existence. + +Such had been her life in Paris until a certain day in early September, +a month before this chapter opens. It was afternoon, and she was sitting +in the balcony cutting a volume of memoirs when she heard the rattle of +a cab on the cobbles below, and peered curiously over the edge of the +railing. Although still half a block away, the national characteristics +of the passenger were sufficiently apparent. He was an American--of that +she was sure. And many Americans did not stray into that quarter. The +length of his legs, for one thing, betrayed him: he found the seat of +the fiacre too low, and had crossed one knee over the other. Other +and less easily definable attributes he did not lack. And as he leaned +against the faded blue cushions regarding with interest the buildings +he passed, he seemed, like an ambassador, to convert the cab in which he +rode into United States territory. Then she saw that it was Peter Erwin. + +She drew back her head from the balcony rail, and tried to sit still and +to think, but she was trembling as one stricken with a chill. The cab +stopped; and presently, after an interval, his card was handed her. She +rose, and stood for a moment with her hand against the wall before she +went into the salon. None of the questions she had asked herself were +answered. Was she glad to see him? and what would be his attitude +towards her? When she beheld him standing before her she had strength +only to pronounce his name. + +He came forward quickly and took her hand and looked down into her +face. She regarded him tremulously, instinctively guessing the vital +importance of this moment for him; and she knew then that he had been +looking forward to it in mingled hope and dread, as one who gazes +seaward after a night of tempest for the ship he has seen at dusk in the +offing. What had the tempest done to her? Such was his question. And her +heart leaped as she saw the light growing in his eyes, for it meant much +to her that he should see that she was not utterly dismantled. She fell; +his own hand tremble as he relinquished hers. He was greatly moved; his +voice, too, betrayed it. + +"You see I have found you," he said. + +"Yes," she answered; "--why did you come?" + +"Why have I always come to you, when it was possible?" he asked. + +"No one ever had such a friend, Peter. Of that I am sure:' + +"I wanted to see Paris," he said, "before I grew too decrepit to enjoy +it." + +She smiled, and turned away. + +"Have you seen much of it?" + +"Enough to wish to see more." + +"When did you arrive?" + +"Some time in the night," he said, "from Cherbourg. And I'm staying at +a very grand hotel, which might be anywhere. A man I crossed with on the +steamer took me there. I think I'd move to one of the quieter ones, +the French ones, if I were a little surer of my pronunciation and the +subjunctive mood." + +"You don't mean to say you've been studying French!" + +He coloured a little, and laughed. + +"You think it ridiculous at my time of life? I suppose you're right. +You should have seen me trying to understand the cabmen. The way these +people talk reminds me more of a Gatling gun than anything I can think +of. It certainly isn't human." + +"Perhaps you have come over as ambassador," she suggested. "When I saw +you in the cab, even before I recognized you, I thought of a bit of our +soil broken off and drifted over here." + +Her voice did not quite sustain the lighter note--the emotion his visit +was causing her was too great. He brought with him into her retreat not +so much a flood of memories as of sensations. He was a man whose image +time with difficulty obliterates, whose presence was a shining thing: so +she had grown to value it in proportion as she had had less of it. She +did inevitably recall the last time she had seen him, in the little +Western city, and how he had overwhelmed her, invaded her with doubts +and aroused the spirit which had possessed her to fight fiercely for its +foothold. And to-day his coming might be likened to the entrance of +a great physician into the room of a distant and lonely patient whom +amidst wide ministrations he has not forgotten. She saw now that he +had been right. She had always seen it, clearly indeed when he had been +beside her, but the spirit within her had been too strong, until +now. Now, when it had plundered her soul of treasures--once so little +valued--it had fled. Such were her thoughts. + +The great of heart undoubtedly possess this highest quality of the +physician,--if the statement may thus be put backhandedly,--and Peter +Erwin instinctively understood the essential of what was going on within +her. He appeared to take a delight in the fancy she had suggested; that +he had brought a portion of the newer world to France. + +"Not a piece of the Atlantic coast, certainly," he replied. "One of the +muddy islands, perhaps, of the Mississippi." + +"All the more representative," she said. "You seem to have taken +possession of Paris, Peter--not Paris of you. You have annexed the seat +of the Capets, and brought democracy at last into the Faubourg." + +"Without a Reign of Terror," he added quizzically. + +"If you are not ambassador, what are you?" she asked. "I have expected +at any moment to read in the Figaro that you were President of the +United States." + +"I am the American tourist," he declared, "with Baedeker for my Bible, +who desires to be shown everything. And I have already discovered that +the legend of the fabulous wealth of the Indies is still in force here. +There are many who are willing to believe that in spite of my modest +appearance--maybe because of it--I have sailed over in a galleon +filled with gold. Already I have been approached from every side by +confidential gentlemen who announced that they spoke English--one of +them said 'American'--who have offered to show me many things, and who +have betrayed enough interest in me to inquire whether I were married or +single." + +Honora laughed. They were seated in the balcony by this time, and he had +the volume of memoirs on his knee, fingering it idly. + +"What did you say to them?" she asked. + +"I told them I was the proud father of ten children," he replied. "That +seemed to stagger them, but only for a moment. They offered to take us +all to the Louvre." + +"Peter, you are ridiculous! But, in spite of your nationality, you don't +look exactly gullible." + +"That is a relief," he said. "I had begun to think I ought to leave my +address and my watch with the Consul General...." + +Of such a nature was the first insidious rupture of that routine she had +grown to look upon as changeless for the years to come, of the life she +had chosen for its very immutable quality. Even its pangs of loneliness +had acquired a certain sweet taste. Partly from a fear of a world that +had hurt her, partly from fear of herself, she had made her burrow deep, +that heat and cold, the changing seasons, and love and hate might be +things far removed. She had sought to remove comparisons, too, from the +limits of her vision; to cherish and keep alive, indeed, such regrets as +she had, but to make no new ones. + +Often had she thought of Peter Erwin, and it is not too much to say that +he had insensibly grown into an ideal. He had come to represent to her +the great thing she had missed in life, missed by feverish searching in +the wrong places, digging for gold where the ground had glittered. And, +if the choice had been given her, she would have preferred his spiritual +to his bodily companionship--for a while, at least. Some day, when she +should feel sure that desire had ceased to throb, when she should have +acquired an unshakable and absolute resignation, she would see him. It +is not too much to say, if her feeling be not misconstrued and stretched +far beyond her own conception of it, that he was her one remaining +interest in the world. She had scanned the letters of her aunt and uncle +for knowledge of his doings, and had felt her curiosity justified by a +certain proprietorship that she did not define, faith in humankind, +or the lack of it, usually makes itself felt through one's comparative +contemporaries. That her uncle was a good man, for instance, had no such +effect upon Honora, as the fact that Peter was a good man. And that he +had held a true course had gradually become a very vital thing to her, +perhaps the most vital thing; and she could have imagined no greater +personal calamity now than to have seen him inconsistent. For there +are such men, and most people have known them. They are the men who, +unconsciously, keep life sweet. + +Yet she was sorry he had invaded her hiding-place. She had not yet +achieved peace, and much of the weary task would have to be done over +after he was gone. + +In the meantime she drifted with astounding ease into another existence. +For it was she, and not the confidential gentlemen, who showed Peter +Paris: not the careless, pleasure-loving Paris of the restaurants, but +of the Cluny and the Carnavalet. The Louvre even was not neglected, and +as they entered it first she recalled with still unaccustomed laughter +his reply to the proffered services of the guide. Indeed, there was much +laughter in their excursions: his native humour sprang from the same +well that held his seriousness. She was amazed at his ability to strip +a sham and leave it grotesquely naked; shams the risible aspect of which +she had never observed in spite of the familiarity four years had +given her. Some of his own countrymen and countrywomen afforded him +the greatest amusement in their efforts to carry off acquired European +"personalities," combinations of assumed indifference and effrontery, +and an accent the like of which was never heard before. But he was +neither bitter nor crude in his criticisms. He made her laugh, but he +never made her ashamed. His chief faculty seemed to be to give her the +power to behold, with astonishing clearness, objects and truths which +had lain before her eyes, and yet hidden. And she had not thought to +acquire any more truths. + +The depth of his pleasure in the things he saw was likewise a +revelation to her. She was by no means a bad guide to the Louvre and the +Luxembourg, but the light in her which had come slowly flooded him with +radiance at the sight of a statue or a picture. He would stop with an +exclamation and stand gazing, self-forgetful, for incredible periods, +and she would watch him, filled with a curious sense of the limitations +of an appreciation she had thought complete. Where during his busy life +had he got this thing which others had sought in many voyages in vain? + +Other excursions they made, and sometimes these absorbed a day. It was a +wonderful month, that Parisian September, which Honora, when she allowed +herself to think, felt that she had no right to. A month filled to the +brim with colour: the stone facades of the houses, which in certain +lights were what the French so aptly call bleuatre; the dense green +foliage of the horse-chestnut trees, the fantastic iron grills, the +Arc de Triomphe in the centre of its circle at sunset, the wide shaded +avenues radiating from it, the bewildering Champs Elysees, the blue +waters of the Seine and the graceful bridges spanning it, Notre Dame +against the sky. Their walks took them, too, into quainter, forgotten +regions where history was grim and half-effaced, and they speculated on +the France of other days. + +They went farther afield; and it was given them to walk together down +green vistas cut for kings, to linger on terraces with the river far +below them, and the roofs of Paris in the hazy distance; that Paris, +sullen so long, the mutterings of which the kings who had sat there must +have heard with dread; that Paris which had finally risen in its wrath +and taken the pleasure-houses and the parks for itself. + +Once they went out to Chantilly, the cameo-like chateau that stands +mirrored in its waters, and wandered through the alleys there. Honora +had left her parasol on the parapet, and as they returned Peter went to +get it, while she awaited him at a little distance. A group was chatting +gayly on the lawn, and one of them, a middle-aged, well-dressed man +hailed him with an air of fellowship, and Peter stopped for a moment's +talk. + +"We were speaking of ambassadors the other day," he said when he joined +her; "that was our own, Minturn." + +"We were speaking of them nearly a month ago," she said. + +"A month ago! I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. + +"What did he say to you?" Honora inquired presently. + +"He was abusing me for not letting him know I was in Paris." + +"Peter, you ought to have let him know!" + +"I didn't come over here to see the ambassador," answered Peter, gayly. + +She talked less than usual on their drive homeward, but he did not +seem to notice the fact. Dusk was already lurking in the courtyards and +byways of the quiet quarter when the porter let them in, and the stone +stairway of the old hotel was almost in darkness. The sitting-room, with +its yellow, hangings snugly drawn and its pervading but soft light, was +a grateful change. And while she was gone to--remove her veil and hat, +Peter looked around it. + +It was redolent of her. A high vase of remarkable beauty, filled with +white roses, stood on the gueridon. He went forward and touched it, +and closed his eyes as though in pain. When he opened them he saw her +standing in the archway. + +She had taken off her coat, and was in a simple white muslin gown, with +a black belt--a costume that had become habitual. Her age was thirty. +The tragedy and the gravity of her life during these later years had +touched her with something that before was lacking. In the street, +in the galleries, people had turned to look at her; not with impudent +stares. She caught attention, aroused imagination. Once, the year +before, she had had a strange experience with a well-known painter, who, +in an impulsive note, had admitted following her home and bribing the +concierge. He craved a few sittings. Her expression now, as she looked +at Peter, was graver than usual. + +"You must not come to-morrow," she said. + +"I thought we were going to Versailles again," he replied in surprise. +"I have made the arrangements." + +"I have changed my mind. I'm not going." + +"You want to postpone it?" he asked. + +She took a chair beside the little blaze in the fireplace. + +"Sit down, Peter. I wish to say something to you. I have been wishing to +do so for some time." + +"Do you object if I stand a moment?" he said. "I feel so much more +comfortable standing, especially when I am going to be scolded." + +"Yes," she admitted, "I am going to scold you. Your conscience has +warned you." + +"On the contrary," he declared, "it has never been quieter. If I have +offended; it is through ignorance." + +"It is through charity, as usual," she said in a low voice. "If +your conscience be quiet, mine is not. It is in myself that I am +disappointed--I have been very selfish. I have usurped you. I have +known it all along, and I have done very wrong in not relinquishing you +before." + +"Who would have shown me Paris?" he exclaimed. + +"No," she continued, "you would not have been alone. If I had needed +proof of that fact, I had it to-day--" + +"Oh, Minturn," he interrupted; "think of me hanging about an Embassy and +trying not to spill tea!" And he smiled at the image that presented. + +Her own smile was fleeting. + +"You would never do that, I know," she said gravely. + +"You are still too modest, Peter, but the time has gone by when I can +be easily deceived. You have a great reputation among men of affairs, an +unique one. In spite of the fact that you are distinctly American, you +have a wide interest in what is going on in the world. And you have an +opportunity here to meet people of note, people really worth while from +every point of view. You have no right to neglect it." + +He was silent a moment, looking down at her. She was leaning forward, +her eyes fixed on the fire, her hands clasped between her knees. + +"Do you think I care for that?" he asked. + +"You ought to care," she said, without looking up. "And it is my duty to +try to make you care." + +"Honora, why do you think I came over here?" he said. + +"To see Paris," she answered. "I have your own word for it. To--to +continue your education. It never seems to stop." + +"Did you really believe that?" + +"Of course I believed it. What could be more natural? And you have never +had a holiday like this." + +"No," he agreed. "I admit that." + +"I don't know how much longer you are going to stay," she said. "You +have not been abroad before, and there are other places you ought to +go." + +"I'll get you to make out an itinerary." + +"Peter, can't you see that I'm serious? I have decided to take matters +in my own hands. The rest of the time you are here, you may come to see +me twice a week. I shall instruct the concierge." + +He turned and grasped the mantel shelf with both hands, and touched the +log with the toe of his boot. + +"What I told you about seeing Paris may be called polite fiction," he +said. "I came over here to see you. I have been afraid to say it until +to-day, and I am afraid to say it now." + +She sat very still. The log flared up again, and he turned slowly and +looked at the shadows in her face. + +"You-you have always been good to me," she answered. "I have never +deserved it--I have never understood it. If it is any satisfaction for +you to know that what I have saved of myself I owe to you, I tell you so +freely." + +"That," he said, "is something for which God forbid that I should take +credit. What you are is due to the development of a germ within you, a +development in which I have always had faith. I came here to see you, I +came here because I love you, because I have always loved you, Honora." + +"Oh, no, not that!" she cried; "not that!" + +"Why not?" he asked. "It is something I cannot help, something beyond +my power to prevent if I would. But I would not. I am proud of it, and I +should be lost without it. I have had it always. I have come over to beg +you to marry me." + +"It's impossible! Can't you see it's impossible?" + +"You don't love me?" he said. Into those few words was thrown all the +suffering of his silent years. + +"I don't know what I feel for you," she answered in an agonized voice, +her fingers tightening over the backs of her white hands. "If reverence +be love--if trust be love, infinite and absolute trust--if gratitude be +love--if emptiness after you are gone be a sign of it--yes, I love you. +If the power to see clearly only through you, to interpret myself only +by your aid be love, I acknowledge it. I tell you so freely, as of your +right to know. And the germ of which you spoke is you. You have grown +until you have taken possession of--of what is left of me. If I had +only been able to see clearly from the first, Peter, I should be another +woman to-day, a whole woman, a wise woman. Oh, I have thought of it +much. The secret of life was there at my side from the time I was able +to pronounce your name, and I couldn't see it. You had it. You stayed. +You took duty where you found it, and it has made you great. Oh, I don't +mean to speak in a worldly sense. When I say that, it is to express the +highest human quality of which I can think and feel. But I can't marry +you. You must see it." + +"I cannot see it," he replied, when he had somewhat gained control of +himself. + +"Because I should be wronging you." + +"How?" he asked. + +"In the first place, I should be ruining your career." + +"If I had a career," he said, smiling gently, "you couldn't ruin it. You +both overestimate and underestimate the world's opinion, Honora. As my +wife, it will not treat you cruelly. And as for my career, as you call +it, it has merely consisted in doing as best I could the work that has +come to me. I have tried to serve well those who have employed me, and +if my services be of value to them, and to those who may need me in +the future, they are not going to reject me. If I have any worth in the +world, you will but add to it. Without you I am incomplete." + +She looked up at him wonderingly. + +"Yes, you are great," she said. "You pity me, you think of my +loneliness." + +"It is true I cannot bear to picture you here," he exclaimed. "The +thought tortures me, but it is because I love you, because I wish to +take and shield you. I am not a man to marry a woman without love. It +seems to me that you should know me well enough to believe that, Honora. +There never has been any other woman in my life, and there never can be. +I have given you proof of it, God knows." + +"I am not what I was," she said, "I am not what I was. I have been +dragged down." + +He bent and lifted her hand from her knee, and raised it to his lips, a +homage from him that gave her an exquisite pain. + +"If you had been dragged down," he answered simply, "my love would have +been killed. I know something of the horrors you have been through, as +though I had suffered them myself. They might have dragged down another +woman, Honora. But they have strangely ennobled you." + +She drew her hand away. + +"No," she said, "I do not deserve happiness. It cannot be my destiny." + +"Destiny," he repeated. "Destiny is a thing not understandable by finite +minds. It is not necessarily continued tragedy and waste, of that I am +certain. Only a little thought is required, it seems to me, to assure us +that we cannot be the judges of our own punishment on this earth. And of +another world we know nothing. It cannot be any one's destiny to throw +away a life while still something may be made of it. You would be +throwing your life away here. That no other woman is possible, or ever +can be possible, for me should be a consideration with you, Honora. What +I ask of you is a sacrifice--will you make me happy?" + +Her eyes filled with tears. + +"Oh, Peter, do you care so much as that? If--if I could be sure that I +were doing it for you! If in spite--of all that has happened to me, I +could be doing something for you--!" + +He stooped and kissed her. + +"You can if you will," he said. + + + + +PG EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + + Best way is to leave 'em alone. Don't dandle 'em (babies) + Blessed are the ugly, for they shall not be tempted + Comparisons, as Shakespeare said, are odorous + Constitutionally honest + Conversation was a mockery + Every one, man or woman, has the right to happiness + Fact should be written like fiction, and fiction like fact + Fetters of love + Happy the people whose annals are blank in history's book + He has always been too honest to make a great deal of money + Her words of comfort were as few as her silent deeds were many + How can you talk of things other people have and not want them + Immutable love in a changing, heedless, selfish world + Intense longing is always followed by disappointment + Little better than a gambling place (Stock Exchange) + No reason why we should suffer all our lives for a mistake + Often in real danger at the moment when they feel most secure + Providence is accepted by his beneficiaries as a matter of fact + Regarding favourable impressions with profound suspicion + Resented the implication of possession + Rocks to which one might cling, successful or failing + Self-torture is human + She had never known the necessity of making friends + Sleep! A despised waste of time in childhood + So glad to have what other people haven't + Sought to remove comparisons + Taking him like daily bread, to be eaten and not thought about + That magic word Change + The greatest wonders are not at the ends of the earth, but near + The days of useless martyrdom are past + Thinking that because you have no ideals, other people haven't + Those who walk on ice will slide against their wills + Time, the unbribeable + Weak coffee and the Protestant religion seemed inseparable + Why should I desire what I cannot have + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Modern Chronicle, Complete, by Winston Churchill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MODERN CHRONICLE, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 5382.txt or 5382.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/8/5382/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |