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diff --git a/43703-0.txt b/43703-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ed2272 --- /dev/null +++ b/43703-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16995 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43703 *** + +[Illustration: Book Cover] + + + + +THE BUSINESS OF LIFE + + + + +Novels by Robert W. Chambers + + The Business of Life + Blue-Bird Weather + Japonette + The Adventures of a Modest Man + The Danger Mark + Special Messenger + The Firing Line + The Younger Set + The Fighting Chance + Some Ladies in Haste + The Tree of Heaven + The Tracer of Lost Persons + A Young Man in a Hurry + Lorraine + Maids of Paradise + Ashes of Empire + The Red Republic + Outsiders + The Gay Rebellion + The Streets of Ascalon + The Common Law + Ailsa Paige + The Green Mouse + Iole + The Reckoning + The Maid-at-arms + Cardigan + The Haunts of Men + The Mystery of Choice + The Cambric Mask + The Maker of Moons + The King in Yellow + In Search of the Unknown + The Conspirators + A King and a Few Dukes + In the Quarter + + + + +[Illustration: "'I--yes. Yes--I'll be ready----'" [Page 317]] + + + + +_The_ BUSINESS OF LIFE + + +BY +ROBERT W. CHAMBERS + + +[Illustration] + + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY +CHARLES DANA GIBSON + + +NEW YORK AND LONDON +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +1913 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY +ROBERT W. CHAMBERS + +Copyright, 1912, by the INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY + + + + +TO +ELSIE CHAMBERS + + + "Il est des noeuds secrets, il est des sympathies + Dont par le doux rapport les Ames assorties + S'attachent l'une à l'autre et se laissent piquer + Par ces je ne sais quoi qu'on ne peut expliquer." + + RODOGUNE. + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + "'I--yes. Yes--I'll be ready----'" _Frontispiece_ + "A lady to see you, sir'" 3 + "Now and then she ... halted on tip-toe to lift some slitted + visor" 51 + "She took it ... then read aloud the device in verse" 57 + "'Are business and friendship incompatible?'" 71 + "'There are nice men, too'" 79 + "And he sat thinking of Jacqueline Nevers" 93 + "She turned leisurely.... 'Did you say anything recently, + Mr. Desboro?'" 116 + "Desboro stood staring down at the magic picture. Mrs. + Clydesdale, too, had risen" 151 + "'Which is the real pleasure?' she asked" 159 + "'The thing to do,' he said ... 'is for us both to keep + very busy'" 161 + "'I--I beg your pardon,' said Jacqueline" 181 + "There was, for a moment, an unconscious and unwonted grace + in his manner" 197 + "All the men there had yielded to the delicate attraction + of her" 205 + "In all the curious eyes turned toward her he saw admiration, + willing or conceded" 209 + "She lost herself in a dreamy Bavarian folk-song" 219 + "Cheer after cheer rang through the hallway" 251 + "'Business is kinder to men than women sometimes believe'" 273 + "'Be careful,' he said ... 'People are watching us'" 277 + "Mr. Waudle gaped at her like a fat and expiring fish; the + poet ... said not a word" 345 + "'My dear!' she exclaimed. 'What a perfectly charming office!'" 358 + "She turned ... looked back, hesitated" 379 + "'_That's_ how hungry I am, Jim. I warned you'" 385 + "'It was rather odd, wasn't it, Jim?'" 395 + "'Why don't you ask your--wife?'" 411 + "'I do not believe you,' she said between her teeth" 419 + "What was she to do? She had gone half mad with fear" 427 + "'Jacqueline--my wife--is the result of a different training'" 441 + "In the rose dusk of the drawn curtains he stood beside it" 445 + "'Now,' she said, leaning forward ... 'what is the meaning + of this?'" 455 + "'You have no further interest in me, have you?'" 479 + "'I--I have never thought mercilessly'" 487 + "And, as she rose, he was still figuring" 499 + + + + +THE BUSINESS OF LIFE + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +[Illustration: "'A lady to see you, sir'"] + +"A lady to see you, sir," said Farris. + +Desboro, lying on the sofa, glanced up over his book. + +"A _lady_?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, who is she, Farris?" + +"She refused her name, Mr. James." + +Desboro swung his legs to the carpet and sat up. + +"What kind of lady is she?" he asked; "a perfect one, or the real +thing?" + +"I don't know, sir. It's hard to tell these days; one dresses like +t'other." + +Desboro laid aside his book and arose leisurely. + +"Where is she?" + +"In the reception room, sir." + +"Did you ever before see her?" + +"I don't know, Mr. James--what with her veil and furs----" + +"How did she come?" + +"In one of Ransom's hacks from the station. There's a trunk outside, +too." + +"What the devil----" + +"Yes, sir. That's what made me go to the door. Nobody rang. I heard the +stompin' and the noise; and I went out, and she just kind of walked in. +Yes, sir." + +"Is the hack out there yet?" + +"No, sir. Ransom's man he left the trunk and drove off. I heard her tell +him he could go." + +Desboro remained silent for a few moments, looking hard at the +fireplace; then he tossed his cigarette onto the embers, dropped the +amber mouthpiece into the pocket of his dinner jacket, dismissed Farris +with a pleasant nod, and walked very slowly along the hall, as though in +no haste to meet his visitor before he could come to some conclusion +concerning her identity. For among all the women he had known, +intimately or otherwise, he could remember very few reckless enough, or +brainless enough, or sufficiently self-assured, to pay him an impromptu +visit in the country at such an hour of the night. + +The reception room, with its early Victorian furniture, appeared to be +empty, at first glance; but the next instant he saw somebody in the +curtained embrasure of a window--a shadowy figure which did not seem +inclined to leave obscurity--the figure of a woman in veil and furs, her +face half hidden in her muff. + +He hesitated a second, then walked toward her; and she lifted her head. + +"Elena!" he said, astonished. + +"Are you angry, Jim?" + +"What are you doing here?" + +"I didn't know what to do," said Mrs. Clydesdale, wearily, "and it came +over me all at once that I couldn't stand him any longer." + +"What has he done?" + +"Nothing. He's just the same--never quite sober--always following me +about, always under foot, always grinning--and buying sixteenth century +enamels--and--I can't stand it! I----" Her voice broke. + +"Come into the library," he said curtly. + +She found her handkerchief, held it tightly against her eyes, and +reached out toward him to be guided. + +In the library fireplace a few embers were still alive. He laid a log +across the coals and used the bellows until the flames started. After +that he dusted his hands, lighted a cigarette, and stood for a moment +watching the mounting blaze. + +She had cast aside her furs and was resting on one elbow, twisting her +handkerchief to rags between her gloved hands, and staring at the fire. +One or two tears gathered and fell. + +"He'll divorce me now, won't he?" she asked unsteadily. + +"Why?" + +"Because nobody would believe the truth--after this." + +She rested her pretty cheek against the cushion and gazed at the fire +with wide eyes still tearfully brilliant. + +"You have me on your hands," she said. "What are you going to do with +me?" + +"Send you home." + +"You can't. I've disgraced myself. Won't you stand by me, Jim?" + +"I can't stand by you if I let you stay here." + +"Why not?" + +"Because that would be destroying you." + +"Are you going to send me away?" + +"Certainly." + +"Where are you going to send me?" + +"Home." + +"Home!" she repeated, beginning to cry again. "Why do you call his house +'home'? It's no more my home than he is my husband----" + +"He _is_ your husband! What do you mean by talking this way?" + +"He _isn't_ my husband. I told him I didn't care for him when he asked +me to marry him. He only grinned. It was a perfectly cold-blooded +bargain. I didn't sell him _everything_!" + +"You married him." + +"Partly." + +"What!" + +She flushed crimson. + +"I sold him the right to call me his wife and to--to make me so if I +ever came to--care for him. That was the bargain--if you've got to know. +The clergy did their part----" + +"Do you mean----" + +"Yes!" she said, exasperated. "I mean that it is no marriage, in spite +of law and clergy. And it never will be, because I hate him!" + +Desboro looked at her in utter contempt. + +"Do you know," he said, "what a rotten thing you have done?" + +"Rotten!" + +"Do you think it admirable?" + +"I didn't sell myself wholesale. It might have been worse." + +"You are wrong. Nothing worse could have happened." + +"Then I don't care what else happens to me," she said, drawing off her +gloves and unpinning her hat. "I shall not go back to him." + +"You can't stay here." + +"I will," she said excitedly. "I'm going to break with him--whether or +not I can count on your loyalty to me----" Her voice broke childishly, +and she bowed her head. + +He caught his lip between his teeth for a moment. Then he said +savagely: + +"You ought not to have come here. There isn't one single thing to excuse +it. Besides, you have just reminded me of my loyalty to you. Can't you +understand that that includes your husband? Also, it isn't in me to +forget that I once asked you to be my wife. Do you think I'd let you +stand for anything less after that? Do you think I'm going to blacken my +own face? I never asked any other woman to marry me, and this settles +it--I never will! You've finished yourself and your sex for me!" + +She was crying now, her head in her hands, and the bronze-red hair +dishevelled, sagging between her long, white fingers. + +He remained aloof, knowing her, and always afraid of her and of himself +together--a very deadly combination for mischief. And she remained bowed +in the attitude of despair, her lithe young body shaken. + +His was naturally a lightly irresponsible disposition, and it came very +easily for him to console beauty in distress--or out of it, for that +matter. Why he was now so fastidious with his conscience in regard to +Mrs. Clydesdale he himself scarcely understood, except that he had once +asked her to marry him; and that he knew her husband. These two facts +seemed to keep him steady. Also, he rather liked her burly husband; and +he had almost recovered from the very real pangs which had pierced him +when she suddenly flung him over and married Clydesdale's millions. + +One of the logs had burned out. He rose to replace it with another. When +he returned to the sofa, she looked up at him so pitifully that he bent +over and caressed her hair. And she put one arm around his neck, crying, +uncomforted. + +"It won't do," he said; "it won't do. And you know it won't, don't you? +This whole business is dead wrong--dead rotten. But you mustn't cry, do +you hear? Don't be frightened. If there's trouble, I'll stand by you, of +course. Hush, dear, the house is full of servants. Loosen your arms, +Elena! It isn't a square deal to your husband--or to you, or even to me. +Unless people have an even chance with me--men or women--there's nothing +dangerous about me. I never dealt with any man whose eyes were not wide +open--nor with any woman, either. Cary's are shut; yours are blinded." + +She sprang up and walked to the fire and stood there, her hands +nervously clenching and unclenching. + +"When I tell you that my eyes _are_ wide open--that I don't care what I +do----" + +"But your husband's eyes are not open!" + +"They ought to be. I left a note saying where I was going--that rather +than be his wife I'd prefer to be your----" + +"Stop! You don't know what you're talking about--you little idiot!" he +broke out, furious. "The very words you use don't mean anything to +you--except that you've read them in some fool's novel, or heard them on +a degenerate stage----" + +"My words will mean something to _him_, if I can make them!" she +retorted hysterically, "--and if you really care for me----" + +Through the throbbing silence Desboro seemed to see Clydesdale, bulky, +partly sober, with his eternal grin and permanently-flushed skin, +rambling about among his porcelains and enamels and jades and ivories, +like a drugged elephant in a bric-a-brac shop. And yet, there had +always been a certain kindly harmlessness and good nature about him that +had always appealed to men. + +He said, incredulously: "Did you write to him what you have just said to +me?" + +"Yes." + +"You actually left such a note for him?" + +"Yes, I did." + +The silence lasted long enough for her to become uneasy. Again and again +she lifted her tear-swollen face to look at him, where he stood before +the fire, but he did not even glance at her; and at last she murmured +his name, and he turned. + +"I guess you've done for us both," he said. "You're probably right; +nobody would believe the truth after this." + +She began to cry again silently. + +He said: "You never gave your husband a chance. He was in love with you +and you never gave him a chance. And you're giving yourself none, now. +And as for me"--he laughed unpleasantly--"well, I'll leave it to you, +Elena." + +"I--I thought--if I burned my bridges and came to you----" + +"What _did_ you think?" + +"That you'd stand by me, Jim." + +"Have I any other choice?" he asked, with a laugh. "We seem to be a +properly damned couple." + +"Do--do you care for any other woman?" + +"No." + +"Then--then----" + +"Oh, I am quite free to stand the consequences with you." + +"Will you?" + +"Can we escape them?" + +"_You_ could." + +"I'm not in the habit of leaving a sinking ship," he said curtly. + +"Then--you will marry me--when----" She stopped short and turned very +white. After a moment the doorbell rang again. + +Desboro glanced at the clock, then shrugged. + +"Wh--who is it?" she faltered. + +"It's probably somebody after you, Elena." + +"It _can't_ be. He wouldn't come, would he?" + +The bell sounded again. + +"What are you going to do?" she breathed. + +"Do? Let him in." + +"Who do you think it is?" + +"Your husband, of course." + +"Then--why are you going to let him in?" + +"To talk it over with him." + +"But--but I don't know what he'll do. I don't know him, I tell you. What +do I know about him--except that he's big and red? How do I know what +might be hidden behind that fixed grin of his?" + +"Well, we'll find out in a minute or two," said Desboro coolly. + +"Jim! You _must_ stand by me now!" + +"I've done it so far, haven't I? You needn't worry." + +"You won't let him take me back! He can't, can he?" + +"Not if you refuse to go. But you won't refuse--if he's man enough to +ask you to return." + +"But--suppose he won't ask me to go back?" + +"In that case I'll stand for what you've done. I'll marry you if he +means to disgrace you. Now let's see what he does mean." + +She caught his sleeve as he passed her, then let it go. The steady +ringing of the bell was confusing and terrifying her, and she glanced +about her like a trapped creature, listening to the distant jingling of +chains and the click of bolts as Desboro undid the outer door. + +Silence, then a far sound in the hall, footsteps coming nearer, nearer; +and she dropped stiffly on the sofa as Desboro entered, followed by Cary +Clydesdale in fur motor cap, coat and steaming goggles. + +Desboro motioned her husband to a chair, but the man stood looking at +his wife through his goggles, with a silly, fixed grin stamped on his +features. Then he drew off the goggles and one fur gauntlet, fumbled in +his overcoat, produced the crumpled note which she had left for him, +laid it on the table between them, and sat down heavily, filling the +leather armchair with his bulk. His bare red hand steamed. After a +moment's silence, he pointed at the note. + +"Well," she said, with an effort, "what of it! It's true--what this +letter says." + +"It isn't true yet, is it?" asked Clydesdale simply. + +"What do you mean?" + +But Desboro understood him, and answered for her with a calm shake of +his head. Then the wife understood, too, and the deep colour dyed her +skin from throat to brow. + +"Why do you come here--after reading that?" She pointed at the letter. +"Didn't you read it?" + +Clydesdale passed his hand slowly over his perplexed eyes. + +"I came to take you home. The car is here." + +"Didn't you understand what I wrote? Isn't it plain enough?" she +demanded excitedly. + +"No. You'd better get ready, Elena." + +"Is that as much of a man as you are--when I tell you I'd rather be Mr. +Desboro's----" + +Something behind the fixed grin on her husband's face made her hesitate +and falter. Then he swung heavily around and looked at Desboro. + +"How much are you in this, anyway?" he asked, still grinning. + +"Do you expect an answer?" + +"I think I'll get one." + +"I think you won't get one out of me." + +"Oh. So you're at the bottom of it all, are you?" + +"No doubt. A woman doesn't do such a thing unpersuaded. If you don't +know enough to look after your own wife, there are plenty of men who'll +apply for the job--as I did." + +"You're a very rotten scoundrel, aren't you?" said Clydesdale, grinning. + +"Oh, so-so." + +Clydesdale sat very still, his grin unchanged, and Desboro looked him +over coolly. + +"Now, what do you want to do? You and Mrs. Clydesdale can remain here +to-night if you wish. There are plenty of bedrooms----" + +Clydesdale rose, bulking huge and menacing in his furs; but Desboro, +sitting on the edge of the table, continued to swing one foot gently, +smiling at danger. + +And Clydesdale hesitated, then veered around toward his wife, with the +heavy movement of a perplexed and tortured bear. + +"Get your furs on," he said, in a dull voice. + +"Do you wish me to go home?" + +"Get your furs on!" + +"Do you wish me to go home, Cary?" + +"Yes. Good God! What do you suppose I came here for?" + +She walked over to Desboro and held out her hand: + +"No wonder women like you. Good-bye--and if I come again--may I remain?" + +"Don't come," he said, smiling, and holding her coat for her. + +Clydesdale strode forward, took the fur garment from Desboro's hands, +and held it open. His wife looked up at him, shrugged her shoulders, and +suffered him to invest her with the coat. + +After a moment Desboro said: + +"Clydesdale, I am not your enemy. I wish you good luck." + +"You go to hell," said Clydesdale thickly. + +Mrs. Clydesdale moved toward the door, her husband on one side, Desboro +on the other, and so, along the hall in silence, and out to the porch, +where the glare of the acetylenes lighted up the frozen drive. + +"It feels like rain," observed Desboro. "Not a very gay outlook for +Christmas. All the same, I wish you a happy one, Elena. And, really, I +believe you could have it if you cared to." + +"Thank you, Jim. You have been mistakenly kind to me. I am afraid you +will have to be crueller some day. Good-bye--till then." + +Clydesdale had descended to the drive and was conferring with the +chauffeur. Now he turned and looked up at his wife. She went down the +steps beside Desboro, and he nodded good-night. Clydesdale put her into +the limousine and then got in after her. + +A few moments later the red tail-lamp of the motor disappeared among the +trees bordering the drive, and Desboro turned and walked back into the +house. + +"That," he said aloud to himself, "settles the damned species for me! +Let the next one look out for herself!" + +He sauntered back into the library. The letter that she had left for her +husband still lay on the table, apparently forgotten. + +"A fine specimen of logic," he said. "She doesn't get on with him, so +she decides to use Jim to jimmy the lock of wedlock! A white man can +understand the Orientals better." + +He glanced at the clock, and decided that there was no sense in going to +bed, so he composed himself on the haircloth sofa once more, lighted a +cigarette, and began to read, coolly using the note she had left, as a +bookmark. + +It was dawn before he closed the book and went away to bathe and change +his attire. + +While breakfasting he glanced out and saw that it had begun to rain. A +green Christmas for day after to-morrow! And, thinking of Christmas, he +thought of a girl he knew who usually wore blue, and what sort of a gift +he had better send her when he went to the city that morning. + +But he didn't go. He called up a jeweler and gave directions what to +send and where to send it. + +Then, listless, depressed, he idled about the great house, putting off +instinctively the paramount issue--the necessary investigation of his +finances. But he had evaded it too long to attempt it lightly now. It +was only a question of days before he'd have to take up in deadly +earnest the question of how to pay his debts. He knew it; and it made +him yawn with disgust. + +After luncheon he wrote a letter to one Jean Louis Nevers, a New York +dealer in antiques, saying that he would drop in some day after +Christmas to consult Mr. Nevers on a matter of private business. + +And that is as far as he got with his very vague plan for paying off an +accumulation of debts which, at last, were seriously annoying him. + +The remainder of the day he spent tramping about the woods of +Westchester with a pack of nondescript dogs belonging to him. He liked +to walk in the rain; he liked his mongrels. + +In the evening he resumed his attitude of unstudied elegance on the +sofa, also his book, using Mrs. Clydesdale's note again to mark his +place. + +Mrs. Quant ventured to knock, bringing some "magic drops," which he +smilingly refused. Farris announced dinner, and he dined as usual, +surrounded by dogs and cats, all very cordial toward the master of +Silverwood, who was unvaryingly so just and so kind to them. + +After dinner he lighted a pipe, thought idly of the girl in blue, hoped +she'd like his gift of aquamarines, and picked up his book again, +yawning. + +He had had about enough of Silverwood, and he was realising it. He had +had more than enough of women, too. + +The next day, riding one of his weedy hunters over Silverwood estate, he +encountered the daughter of a neighbor, an old playmate of his when +summer days were half a year long, and yesterdays immediately became +embedded in the middle of the middle ages. + +She was riding a fretful, handsome Kentucky three-year-old, and sitting +nonchalantly to his exasperating and jiggling gait. + +The girl was one Daisy Hammerton--the sort men call "square" and +"white," and a "good fellow"; but she was softly rounded and dark, and +very feminine. + +She bade him good morning in a friendly voice; and her voice and manner +might well have been different, for Desboro had not behaved very civilly +toward her or toward her family, or to any of his Westchester neighbors +for that matter; and the rumours of his behaviour in New York were +anything but pleasant to a young girl's ears. So her cordiality was the +more to her credit. + +He made rather shame-faced inquiries about her and her parents, but she +lightly put him at his ease, and they turned into the woods together on +the old and unembarrassed terms of comradeship. + +"Captain Herrendene is back. Did you know it?" she asked. + +"Nice old bird," commented Desboro. "I must look him up. Where did he +come from--Luzon?" + +"Yes. He wrote us. Why don't you ask him up for the skating, Jim?" + +"What skating?" said Desboro, with a laugh. "It will be a green +Christmas, Daisy--it's going to rain again. Besides," he added, "I +shan't be here much longer." + +"Oh, I'm sorry." + +He reddened. "You always were the sweetest thing in Westchester. Fancy +your being sorry that I'm going back to town when I've never once ridden +over to see you as long as I've been here!" + +She laughed. "We've known each other too long to let such things make +any real difference. But you _have_ been a trifle negligent." + +"Daisy, dear, I'm that way in everything. If anybody asked me to name +the one person I would not neglect, I'd name you. But you see what +happens--even to you! I don't know--I don't seem to have any character. +I don't know what's the matter with me----" + +"I'm afraid that you have no beliefs, Jim." + +"How can I have any when the world is so rotten after nineteen hundred +years of Christianity?" + +"I have not found it rotten." + +"No, because you live in a clean and wholesome circle." + +"Why don't you, too? You can live where you please, can't you?" + +He laughed and waved his hand toward the horizon. + +"You know what the Desboros have always been. You needn't pretend you +don't. All Westchester has it in for us. But relief is in sight," he +added, with mock seriousness. "I'm the last of 'em, and your children, +Daisy, won't have to endure the morally painful necessity of tolerating +anybody of my name in the county." + +She smiled: "Jim, you could be so nice if you only would." + +"What! With no beliefs?" + +"They're so easily acquired." + +"Not in New York town, Daisy." + +"Perhaps not among the people you affect. But such people really count +for so little--they are only a small but noisy section of a vast and +quiet and wholesome community. And the noise and cynicism are both based +on idleness, Jim. Nobody who is busy is destitute of beliefs. Nobody who +is responsible can avoid ideals." + +"Quite right," he said. "I am idle and irresponsible. But, Daisy, it's +as much part of me as are my legs and arms, and head and body. I am not +stupid; I have plenty of mental resources; I am never bored; I enjoy my +drift through life in an empty tub as much as the man who pulls +furiously through it in a rowboat loaded with ambitions, ballasted with +brightly moral resolves, and buffeted by the cross seas of duty and +conscience. That's rather neat, isn't it?" + +"You can't drift safely very long without ballast," said the girl, +smiling. + +"Watch me." + +She did not answer that she had been watching him for the last few +years, or tell him how it had hurt her to hear his name linked with the +gossip of fashionably vapid doings among idle and vapid people. For his +had been an inheritance of ability and culture, and the leisure to +develop both. Out of idleness and easy virtue had at last emerged three +generations of Desboros full of energy and almost ruthless ability--his +great-grandfather, grandfather and father--but he, the fourth +generation, was throwing back into the melting pot all that his father +and grandfathers had carried from it--even the material part of it. Land +and fortune, were beginning to disappear, together with the sturdy +mental and moral qualities of a race that had almost overcome its +vicious origin under the vicious Stuarts. Only the physical stamina as +yet seemed to remain intact; for Desboro was good to look upon. + +"An odd thing happened the other night--or, rather, early in the +morning," she said. "We were awakened by a hammering at the door and a +horn blowing--and guess who it was?" + +"Not Gabriel--though you look immortally angelic to-day----" + +"Thank you, Jim. No; it was Cary and Elena Clydesdale, saying that their +car had broken down. What a ridiculous hour to be motoring! Elena was +half dead with the cold, too. It seems they'd been to a party somewhere +and were foolish enough to try to motor back to town. They stopped with +us and took the noon train to town. Elena told me to give you her love; +that's what reminded me." + +"Give her mine when you see her," he said pleasantly. + + * * * * * + +When he returned to his house he sat down with a notion of trying to +bring order out of the chaos into which his affairs had tumbled. But the +mere sight of his desk, choked with unanswered letters and unpaid bills, +sickened him, and he threw himself on the sofa and picked up his book, +determined to rid himself of Silverwood House and all its curious, +astonishing and costly contents. + +"Tell Riley to be on hand Monday," he said to Mrs. Quant that evening. +"I want the cases in the wing rooms and the stuff in the armoury cleaned +up, because I expect a Mr. Nevers to come here and recatalogue the +entire collection next week." + +"Will you be at home, Mr. James?" she asked anxiously. + +"No. I'm going South, duck-shooting. See that Mr. Nevers is comfortable +if he chooses to remain here; for it will take him a week or two to do +his work in the armoury, I suppose. So you'll have to start both +furnaces to-morrow, and keep open fires going, or the man will freeze +solid. You understand, don't you?" + +"Yes, sir. And if you are going away, Mr. James, I could pack a little +bottle of 'magic drops'----" + +"By all means," he said, with good-humoured resignation. + +He spent the evening fussing over his guns and ammunition, determined to +go to New York in the morning. But he didn't; indecision had become a +habit; he knew it, wondered a little at himself for his lack of +decision. + +He was deadly weary of Silverwood, but too lazy to leave; and it made +him think of the laziest dog on record, who yelped all day because he +had sat down on a tack and was too lazy to get up. + +So it was not until the middle of Christmas week that Desboro summoned +up sufficient energy to start for New York. And when at last he was on +the train, he made up his mind that he wouldn't return to Silverwood in +a hurry. + +But that plan was one of the mice-like plans men make so confidently +under the eternal skies. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Desboro arrived in town on a late train. It was raining, so he drove to +his rooms, exchanged his overcoat for a raincoat, and went out into the +downpour again, undisturbed, disdaining an umbrella. + +In a quarter of an hour's vigorous walking he came to the celebrated +antique shop of Louis Nevers, and entered, letting in a gust of wind and +rain at his heels. + +Everywhere in the semi-gloom of the place objects loomed mysteriously, +their outlines lost in shadow except where, here and there, a gleam of +wintry daylight touched a jewel or fell across some gilded god, +lotus-throned, brooding alone. + +When Desboro's eyes became accustomed to the obscurity, he saw that +there was armour there, complete suits, Spanish and Milanese, and an odd +Morion or two; and there were jewels in old-time settings, tapestries, +silver, ivories, Hispano-Moresque lustre, jades, crystals. + +The subdued splendour of Chinese and Japanese armour, lacquered in +turquoise, and scarlet and gold, glimmered on lay figures masked by +grotesque helmets; an Ispahan rug, softly luminous, trailed across a +table beside him, and on it lay a dead Sultan's scimitar, curved like +the new moon, its slim blade inset with magic characters, the hilt +wrought as delicately as the folded frond of a fern, graceful, +exquisite, gem-incrusted. + +There were a few people about the shop, customers and clerks, moving +shapes in the dull light. Presently a little old salesman wearing a +skull cap approached him. + +"Rainy weather for Christmas week, sir. Can I be of service?" + +"Thanks," said Desboro. "I came here by appointment on a matter of +private business." + +"Certainly, sir. I think Miss Nevers is not engaged. Kindly give me your +card and I will find out." + +"But I wish to see Mr. Nevers himself." + +"Mr. Nevers is dead, sir." + +"Oh! I didn't know----" + +"Yes, sir. Mr. Nevers died two years ago." And, as Desboro remained +silent and thoughtful: "Perhaps you might wish to see Miss Nevers? She +has charge of everything now, including all our confidential affairs." + +"No doubt," said Desboro pleasantly, "but this is an affair requiring +personal judgment and expert advice----" + +"I understand, sir. The gentlemen who came to see Mr. Nevers about +matters requiring expert opinions now consult Miss Nevers personally." + +"Who is _Miss_ Nevers?" + +"His daughter, sir." He added, with quaint pride: "The great jewelers of +Fifth Avenue consult her; experts in our business often seek her advice. +The Museum authorities have been pleased to speak highly of her +monograph on Hurtado de Mendoza." + +Desboro hesitated for a moment, then gave his card to the old salesman, +who trotted away with it down the unlighted vista of the shop. + +The young man's pleasantly indifferent glance rested on one object after +another, not unintelligently, but without particular interest. Yet +there were some very wonderful and very rare and beautiful things to be +seen in the celebrated shop of the late Jean Louis Nevers. + +So he stood, leaning on his walking stick, the upturned collar of his +raincoat framing a face which was too colourless and worn for a man of +his age; and presently the little old salesman came trotting back, the +tassel on his neat silk cap bobbing with every step. + +"Miss Nevers will be very glad to see you in her private office. This +way, if you please, sir." + +Desboro followed to the rear of the long, dusky shop, turned to the left +through two more rooms full of shadowy objects dimly discerned, then +traversed a tiled passage to where electric lights burned over a +doorway. + +The old man opened the door; Desboro entered and found himself in a +square picture gallery, lighted from above, and hung all around with +dark velvet curtains to protect the pictures on sale. As he closed the +door behind him a woman at a distant desk turned her head, but remained +seated, pen poised, looking across the room at him as he advanced. Her +black gown blended so deceptively with the hangings that at first he +could distinguish only the white face and throat and hands against the +shadows behind her. + +"Will you kindly announce me to Miss Nevers?" he said, looking around +for a chair. + +"I am Miss Nevers." + +She closed the ledger in which she had been writing, laid aside her pen +and rose. As she came forward he found himself looking at a tall girl, +slim to thinness, except for the rounded oval of her face under a loose +crown of yellow hair, from which a stray lock sagged untidily, curling +across her cheek. + +He thought: "A blue-stocking prodigy of learning, with her hair in a +mess, and painted at that." But he said politely, yet with that hint of +idle amusement in his voice which often sounded through his speech with +women: + +"Are you the Miss Nevers who has taken over this antique business, and +who writes monographs on Hurtado de Mendoza?" + +"Yes." + +"You appear to be very young to succeed such a distinguished authority +as your father, Miss Nevers." + +His observation did not seem to disturb her, nor did the faintest hint +of mockery in his pleasant voice. She waited quietly for him to state +his business. + +He said: "I came here to ask somebody's advice about engaging an expert +to appraise and catalogue my collection." + +And even while he was speaking he was conscious that never before had he +seen such a white skin and such red lips--if they were natural. And he +began to think that they might be. + +He said, noticing the bright lock astray on her cheek once more: + +"I suppose that I may speak to you in confidence--just as I would have +spoken to your father." + +She was still looking at him with the charm of youthful inquiry in her +eyes. + +"Certainly," she said. + +She glanced down at his card which still lay on her blotter, stood a +moment with her hand resting on the desk, then indicated a chair at her +elbow and seated herself. + +He took the chair. + +"I wrote you that I'd drop in sometime this week. The note was directed +to your father. I did not know he was not living." + +"You are the Mr. Desboro who owns the collection of armour?" she asked. + +"I am that James Philip Desboro who lives at Silverwood," he said. +"Evidently you have heard of the Desboro collection of arms and armour." + +"Everybody has, I think." + +He said, carelessly: "Museums, amateur collectors, and students know it, +and I suppose most dealers in antiques have heard of it." + +"Yes, all of them, I believe." + +"My house," he went on, "Silverwood, is in darkest Westchester, and my +recent grandfather, who made the collection, built a wing to contain it. +It's there as he left it. My father made no additions to it. Nor," he +added, "have I. Now I want to ask you whether a lot of those things have +not increased in value since my grandfather's day?" + +"No doubt." + +"And the collection is valuable?" + +"I think it must be--very." + +"And to determine its value I ought to have an expert go there and +catalogue it and appraise it?" + +"Certainly." + +"Who? That's what I've come here to find out." + +"Perhaps you might wish us to do it." + +"Is that still part of your business?" + +"It is." + +"Well," he said, after a moment's thought, "I am going to sell the +Desboro collection." + +"Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, under her breath; and looked up to find +him surprised and beginning to be amused again. + +"Your attitude is not very professional--for a dealer in antiques," he +said quizzically. + +"I am something else, too, Mr. Desboro." She had flushed a little, not +responding to his lighter tone. + +"I am very sure you are," he said. "Those who really know about and care +for such collections must feel sorry to see them dispersed." + +"I had hoped that the Museum might have the Desboro collection some +day," she said, in a low voice. + +He said: "I am sorry it is not to be so," and had the grace to redden a +trifle. + +She played with her pen, waiting for him to continue; and she was so +young, and fresh, and pretty that he was in no hurry to finish. Besides, +there was something about her face that had been interesting him--an +expression which made him think sometimes that she was smiling, or on +the verge of it. But the slightly upcurled corners of her mouth had been +fashioned so by her Maker, or perhaps had become so from some inborn +gaiety of heart, leaving a faint, sweet imprint on her lips. + +To watch her was becoming a pleasure. He wondered what her smile might +be like--all the while pretending an absent-minded air which cloaked his +idle curiosity. + +She waited, undisturbed, for him to come to some conclusion. And all the +while he was thinking that her lips were perhaps just a trifle too +full--that there was more of Aphrodite in her face than of any saint he +remembered; but her figure was thin enough for any saint. Perhaps a +course of banquets--perhaps a régime under a diet list warranted to +improve---- + +"Did you ever see the Desboro collection, Miss Nevers?" he asked +vaguely. + +"No." + +"What expert will you send to catalogue and appraise it?" + +"_I_ could go." + +"You!" he said, surprised and smiling. + +"That is my profession." + +"I knew, of course, that it was your father's. But I never supposed that +you----" + +"Did you wish to have an appraisement made, Mr. Desboro?" she +interrupted dryly. + +"Why, yes, I suppose so. Otherwise, I wouldn't know what to ask for +anything." + +"Have you really decided to sell that superb collection?" she demanded. + +"What else can I do?" he inquired gayly. "I suppose the Museum ought to +have it, but I can't afford to give it away or to keep it. In other +words--and brutal ones--I need money." + +She said gravely: "I am sorry." + +And he knew she didn't mean that she was sorry because he needed money, +but because the Museum was not to have the arms, armour, jades, and +ivories. Yet, somehow, her "I am sorry" sounded rather sweet to him. + +For a while he sat silent, one knee crossed over the other, twisting the +silver crook of his stick. From moment to moment she raised her eyes +from the blotter to let them rest inquiringly on him, then went on +tracing arabesques over her blotter with an inkless pen. One slender +hand was bracketed on her hip, and he noticed the fingers, smooth and +rounded as a child's. Nor could he keep his eyes from her profile, with +its delicate, short nose, ever so slightly arched, and its lips, just a +trifle too sensuous--and that soft lock astray again against her cheek. +No, her hair was not dyed, either. And it was as though she divined his +thought, for she looked up suddenly from her blotter and he instantly +gazed elsewhere, feeling guilty and impertinent--sentiments not often +experienced by that young man. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, Miss Nevers," he concluded, "I'll write you +a letter to my housekeeper, Mrs. Quant. Shall I? And you'll go up and +look over the collection and let me know what you think of it!" + +"Do you not expect to be there?" + +"Ought I to be?" + +"I really can't answer you, but it seems to me rather important that the +owner of a collection should be present when the appraiser begins work." + +"The fact is," he said, "I'm booked for a silly shooting trip. I'm +supposed to start to-morrow." + +"Then perhaps you had better write the letter. My full name is +Jacqueline Nevers--if you require it. You may use my desk." + +She rose; he thanked her, seated himself, and began a letter to Mrs. +Quant, charging her to admit, entertain, and otherwise particularly +cherish one Miss Jacqueline Nevers, and give her the keys to the +armoury. + +While he was busy, Jacqueline Nevers paced the room backward and +forward, her pretty head thoughtfully bent, hands clasped behind her, +moving leisurely, absorbed in her cogitations. + +Desboro ended his letter and sat for a moment watching her until, +happening to glance at him, she discovered his idleness. + +"Have you finished?" she asked. + +A trifle out of countenance he rose and explained that he had, and laid +the letter on her blotter. Realising that she was expecting him to take +his leave, he also realised that he didn't want to. And he began to spar +with Destiny for time. + +"I suppose this matter will require several visits from you," he +inquired. + +"Yes, several." + +"It takes some time to catalogue and appraise such a collection, doesn't +it?" + +"Yes." + +She answered him very sweetly but impersonally, and there seemed to be +in her brief replies no encouragement for him to linger. So he started +to pick up his hat, thinking as fast as he could all the while; and his +facile wits saved him at the last moment. + +"Well, upon my word!" he exclaimed. "Do you know that you and I have not +yet discussed terms?" + +"We make our usual charges," she said. + +"And what are those?" + +She explained briefly. + +"That is for cataloguing and appraising only?" + +"Yes." + +"And if you sell the collection?" + +"We take our usual commission." + +"And you think you _can_ sell it for me?" + +"I'll have to--won't I?" + +He laughed. "But _can_ you?" + +"Yes." + +As the curt affirmative fell from her lips, suddenly, under all her +delicate, youthful charm, Desboro divined the note of hidden strength, +the self-confidence of capability--oddly at variance with her allure of +lovely immaturity. Yet he might have surmised it, for though her figure +was that of a girl, her face, for all its soft, fresh beauty, was a +woman's, and already firmly moulded in noble lines which even the +scarlet fulness of the lips could not deny. For if she had the mouth of +Aphrodite, she had her brow, also. + +He had not been able to make her smile, although the upcurled corners of +her mouth seemed always to promise something. He wondered what her +expression might be like when animated--even annoyed. And his idle +curiosity led him on to the edges of impertinence. + +"May I say something that I have in mind and not offend you?" he asked. + +"Yes--if you wish." She lifted her eyes. + +"Do you think you are old enough and experienced enough to catalogue and +appraise such an important collection as this one? I thought perhaps you +might prefer not to take such a responsibility upon yourself, but would +rather choose to employ some veteran expert." + +She was silent. + +"Have I offended you?" + +She walked slowly to the end of the room, turned, and, passing him a +third time, looked up at him and laughed--a most enchanting little +laugh--a revelation as delightful as it was unexpected. + +"I believe you really _want_ to do it yourself!" he exclaimed. + +"_Want_ to? I'm dying to! I don't think there is anything in the world I +had rather try!" she said, with a sudden flush and sparkle of +recklessness that transfigured her. "Do you suppose anybody in my +business would willingly miss the chance of personally handling such a +transaction? Of _course_ I want to. Not only because it would be a most +creditable transaction for this house--not only because it would be a +profitable business undertaking, but"--and the swift, engaging smile +parted her lips once more--"in a way I feel as though my own ability had +been questioned----" + +"By me?" he protested. "Did I actually dare question your ability?" + +"Something very like it. So, naturally, I would seize an opportunity to +vindicate myself--if you offer it----" + +"I do offer it," he said. + +"I accept." + +There was a moment's indecisive silence. He picked up his hat and stick, +lingering still; then: + +"Good-bye, Miss Nevers. When are you going up to Silverwood?" + +"To-morrow, if it is quite convenient." + +"Entirely. I may be there. Perhaps I can fix it--put off that shooting +party for a day or two." + +"I hope so." + +"I hope so, too." + +He walked reluctantly toward the door, turned and came all the way back. + +"Perhaps you had rather I remained away from Silverwood." + +"Why?" + +"But, of course," he said, "there is a nice old housekeeper there, and a +lot of servants----" + +She laughed. "Thank you very much, Mr. Desboro. It is very nice of you, +but I had not considered that at all. Business women must disregard such +conventions, if they're to compete with men. I'd like you to be there, +because I may have questions to ask." + +"Certainly--it's very good of you. I--I'll try to be there----" + +"Because I might have some very important questions to ask you," she +repeated. + +"Of course. I've got to be there. Haven't I?" + +"It might be better for your interests." + +"Then I'll be there. Well, good-bye, Miss Nevers." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Desboro." + +"And thank you for undertaking it," he said cordially. + +"Thank _you_ for asking me." + +"Oh, I'm--I'm really delighted. It's most kind of _you_. _Good_-bye, +Miss Nevers." + +"_Good_-bye, Mr. Desboro." + +He had to go that time; and he went still retaining a confused vision of +blue eyes and vivid lips, and of a single lock of hair astray once more +across a smooth, white cheek. + +When he had gone, Jacqueline seated herself at her desk and picked up +her pen. She remained so for a while, then emerged abruptly from a fit +of abstraction and sorted some papers unnecessarily. When she had +arranged them to her fancy, she rearranged them. Then the little Louis +XVI desk interested her, and she examined the inset placques of flowered +Sèvres in detail, as though the little desk of tulip, satinwood and +walnut had not stood there since she was a child. + +Later she noticed his card on her blotter; and, face framed in her +hands, she studied it so long that the card became a glimmering white +patch and vanished; and before her remote gaze his phantom grew out of +space, seated there in the empty chair beside her--the loosened collar +of his raincoat revealing to her the most attractive face of any man she +had ever looked upon in her twenty-two years of life. + +Toward evening the electric lamps were lighted in the shop; rain fell +more heavily outside; few people entered. She was busy with ledgers and +files of old catalogues recording auction sales, the name of the +purchaser and the prices pencilled on the margins in her father's +curious handwriting. Also her card index aided her. Under the head of +"Desboro" she was able to note what objects of interest or of art her +father had bought for her recent visitor's grandfather, and the prices +paid--little, indeed, in those days, compared with what the same objects +would now bring. And, continuing her search, she finally came upon an +uncompleted catalogue of the Desboro collection. It was in +manuscript--her father's peculiar French chirography--neat and accurate +as far as it went. + +Everything bearing upon the Desboro collection she bundled together and +strapped with rubber bands; then, one by one, the clerks and salesmen +came to report to her before closing up. She locked the safe, shut her +desk, and went out to the shop, where she remained until the shutters +were clamped and the last salesman had bade her a cheery good night. +Then, bolting the door and double-locking it, she went back along the +passage and up the stairs, where she had the two upper floors to +herself, and a cook and chambermaid to keep house for her. + +In the gaslight of the upper apartment she seemed even more slender than +by daylight--her eyes bluer, her lips more scarlet. She glanced into the +mirror of her dresser as she passed, pausing to twist up the unruly lock +that had defied her since childhood. + +Everywhere in the room Christmas was still in evidence--a tiny tree, +with frivolous, glittering things still twisted and suspended among the +branches, calendars, sachets, handkerchiefs still gaily tied in ribbons, +flowering shrubs swathed in tissue and bows of tulle--these from her +salesmen, and she had carefully but pleasantly maintained the line of +demarcation by presenting each with a gold piece. + +But there were other gifts--gloves and stockings, and bon-bons, and +books, from the friends who were girls when she too was a child at +school; and a set of volumes from Cary Clydesdale whose collection of +jades she was cataloguing. The volumes were very beautiful and +expensive. The gift had surprised her. + +Among her childhood friends was her social niche; the circumference of +their circle the limits of her social environment. They came to her and +she went to them; their pastimes and pleasures were hers; and if there +was not, perhaps, among them her intellectual equal, she had not yet +felt the need of such companionship, but had been satisfied to have them +hold her as a good companion who otherwise possessed much strange and +perhaps useless knowledge quite beyond their compass. And she was shyly +content with her intellectual isolation. + +So, amid these people, she had found a place prepared for her when she +emerged from childhood. What lay outside of this circle she surmised +with the intermittent curiosity of ignorance, or of a bystander who +watches a pageant for a moment and hastens on, preoccupied with matters +more familiar. + +All young girls think of pleasures; she had thought of them always when +the day's task was ended, and she had sought them with all the ardour of +youth, with a desire unwearied, and a thirst unquenched. + +In her, mental and physical pleasure were wholesomely balanced; the keen +delight of intellectual experience, the happiness of research and +attainment, went hand in hand with a rather fastidious appetite for +having the best time that circumstances permitted. + +She danced when she had a chance, went to theatres and restaurants with +her friends, bathed at Manhattan in summer, when gay parties were +organised, and did the thousand innocent things that thousands of young +business girls do whose lines are cast in the metropolis. + +Since her father's death she had been intensely lonely; only a desperate +and steady application to business had pulled her through the first year +without a breakdown. + +The second year she rejoined her friends and went about again with them. +Now, the third year since her father's death was already dawning; and +her last prayer as the old year died had been that the new one would +bring her friends and happiness. + +Seated before the wood fire in her bedroom, leisurely undressing, she +thought of Desboro and the business that concerned him. He was so very +good looking--in the out-world manner--the manner of those who dwelt +outside her orbit. + +She had not been very friendly with him at first. She had wanted to be; +instinct counselled reserve, and she had listened--until the very last. +He had a way of laughing at her in every word--in even an ordinary +business conversation. She had been conscious all the while of his +half-listless interest in her, of an idle curiosity, which, before it +had grown offensive, had become friendly and at times almost boyish in +its naïve self-disclosure. And it made her smile to remember how very +long it took him to take his leave. + +But--a man of that kind--a man of the out-world--with the _something_ in +his face that betrays shadows which she had never seen cast--and never +would see--_he_ was no boy. For in his face was the faint imprint of +that pallid wisdom which warned. Women in his own world might ignore the +warning; perhaps it did not menace them. But instinct told her that it +might be different outside that world. + +She nestled into her fire-warmed bath-robe and sat pensively fitting and +refitting her bare feet into her slippers. + +Men were odd; alike and unalike. Since her father's death, she had had +to be careful. Wealthy gentlemen, old and young, amateurs of armour, +ivories, porcelains, jewels, all clients of her father, had sometimes +sent for her too many times on too many pretexts; and sometimes their +paternal manner toward her had made her uncomfortable. Desboro was of +that same caste. Perhaps he was not like them otherwise. + + * * * * * + +When she had bathed and dressed, she dined alone, not having any +invitation for the evening. After dinner she talked on the telephone to +her little friend, Cynthia Lessler, whose late father's business had +been to set jewels and repair antique watches and clocks. Incidentally, +he drank and chased his daughter about with a hatchet until she fled for +good one evening, which afforded him an opportunity to drink himself +very comfortably to death in six months. + +"Hello, Cynthia!" called Jacqueline, softly. + +"Hello! Is it you, Jacqueline, dear?" + +"Yes. Don't you want to come over and eat chocolates and gossip?" + +"Can't do it. I'm just starting for the hall." + +"I thought you'd finished rehearsing." + +"I've got to be on hand all the same. How are you, sweetness, anyway?" + +"Blooming, my dear. I'm crazy to tell you about my good luck. I have a +splendid commission with which to begin the new year." + +"Good for you! What is it?" + +"I can't tell you yet"--laughingly--"it's confidential business----" + +"Oh, I know. Some old, fat man wants you to catalogue his collection." + +"No! He isn't fat, either. You _are_ the limit, Cynthia!" + +"All the same, look out for him," retorted Cynthia. "_I_ know man and +his kind. Office experience is a liberal education; the theatre a +post-graduate course. Are you coming to the dance to-morrow night?" + +"Yes. I suppose the usual people will be there?" + +"Some new ones. There's an awfully good-looking newspaper man from +Yonkers. He has a car in town, too." + +Something--some new and unaccustomed impatience--she did not understand +exactly what--prompted Jacqueline to say scornfully: + +"His name is Eddie, isn't it?" + +"No. Why do you ask?" + +A sudden vision of Desboro, laughing at her under every word of an +unsmiling and commonplace conversation, annoyed her. + +"Oh, Cynthia, dear, every good-looking man we meet is usually named Ed +and comes from places like Yonkers." + +Cynthia, slightly perplexed, said slangily that she didn't "get" her; +and Jacqueline admitted that she herself didn't know what she had meant. + +They gossiped for a while, then Cynthia ended: + +"I'll see you to-morrow night, won't I? And listen, you little white +mouse, I get what you mean by 'Eddie'." + +"Do you?" + +"Yes. Shall I see you at the dance?" + +"Yes, and 'Eddie,' too. Good-bye." + +Jacqueline laughed again, then shivered slightly and hung up the +receiver. + +Back before her bedroom fire once more, Grenville's volume on ancient +armour across her knees, she turned the illuminated pages absently, and +gazed into the flames. What she saw among them apparently did not amuse +her, for after a while she frowned, shrugged her shoulders, and resumed +her reading. + +But the XV century knights, in their gilded or silvered harness, had +Desboro's lithe figure, and the lifted vizors of their helmets always +disclosed his face. Shields emblazoned with quarterings, plumed armets, +the golden morions, banner, pennon, embroidered surtout, and the +brilliant trappings of battle horse and palfry, became only a confused +blur of colour under her eyes, framing a face that looked back at her +out of youthful eyes, marred by the shadow of a wisdom she knew +about--alas--but did not know. + + * * * * * + +The man of whom she was thinking had walked back to the club through a +driving rain, still under the fascination of the interview, still +excited by its novelty and by her unusual beauty. He could not quite +account for his exhilaration either, because, in New York, beauty is +anything but unusual among the hundreds of thousands of young women who +work for a living--for that is one of the seven wonders of the city--and +it is the rule rather than the exception that, in this new race which is +evolving itself out of an unknown amalgam, there is scarcely a young +face in which some trace of it is not apparent at a glance. + +Which is why, perhaps, he regarded his present exhilaration humorously, +or meant to; perhaps why he chose to think of her as "Stray Lock," +instead of Miss Nevers, and why he repeated confidently to himself: +"She's thin as a Virgin by the 'Master of the Death of Mary'." And yet +that haunting expression of her face--the sweetness of the lips upcurled +at the corners--the surprising and lovely revelation of her +laughter--these impressions persisted as he swung on through the rain, +through the hurrying throngs just released from shops and great +department stores, and onward up the wet and glimmering avenue to his +destination, which was the Olympian Club. + +In the cloak room there were men he knew, being divested of wet hats and +coats; in reading room, card room, lounge, billiard hall, squash court, +and gymnasium, men greeted him with that friendly punctiliousness which +indicates popularity; from the splashed edge of the great swimming pool +men hailed him; clerks and club servants saluted him smilingly as he +sauntered about through the place, still driven into motion by an +inexplicable and unaccustomed restlessness. Cairns discovered him coming +out of the billiard room: + +"Have a snifter?" he suggested affably. "I'll find Ledyard and play you +'nigger' or 'rabbit' afterward, if you like." + +Desboro laid a hand on his friend's shoulder: + +"Jack, I've a business engagement at Silverwood to-morrow, and I believe +I'd better go home to-night." + +"Heavens! You've just been there! And what about the shooting trip?" + +"I can join you day after to-morrow." + +"Oh, come, Jim, are you going to spoil our card quartette on the train? +Reggie Ledyard will kill you." + +"He might, at that," said Desboro pleasantly. "But I've got to be at +Silverwood to-morrow. It's a matter of business, Jack." + +"_You_ and business! Lord! The amazing alliance! What are you going to +do--sell a few superannuated Westchester hens at auction? By heck! +You're a fake farmer and a pitiable piker, that's what _you_ are. And +Stuyve Van Alstyne had a wire to-night that the ducks and geese are +coming in to the guns by millions----" + +"Go ahead and shoot 'em, then! I'll probably be along in time to pick up +the game for you." + +"You won't go with us?" + +"Not to-morrow. A man can't neglect his own business _every_ day in the +year." + +"Then you won't be in Baltimore for the Assembly, and you won't go to +Georgia, and you won't do a thing that you expected to. Oh, you're the +gay, quick-change artist! And don't tell me it's business, either," he +added suspiciously. + +"I _do_ tell you exactly that." + +"You mean to say that nothing except sheer, dry business keeps you +here?" + +The colour slowly settled under Desboro's cheek bones: + +"It's a matter with enough serious business in it to keep me busy +to-morrow----" + +"Selecting pearls? In which show and which row does she cavort, dear +friend--speaking in an exquisitely colloquial metaphor!" + +Desboro shrugged: "I'll play you a dozen games of rabbit before we dress +for dinner. Come on, you suspicious sport!" + +"Which show?" repeated Cairns obstinately. He did not mean it literally, +footlight affairs being unfashionable. But Desboro's easy popularity +with women originated continual gossip, friendly and otherwise; and his +name was often connected harmlessly with that of some attractive woman +in his own class--like Mrs. Clydesdale, for instance--and sometimes with +some pretty unknown in some class not specified. But the surmise was +idle, and the gossip vague, and neither the one nor the other disturbed +Desboro, who continued to saunter through life keeping his personal +affairs pleasantly to himself. + +He linked his arm in Cairns's and guided him toward the billiard room. +But there were no tables vacant for rabbit, which absurd game, being +hard on the cloth, was limited to two decrepit pool tables. + +So Cairns again suggested his celebrated "snifter," and then the young +men separated, Desboro to go across the street to his elaborate rooms +and dress, already a little less interested in his business trip to +Silverwood, already regretting the gay party bound South for two weeks +of pleasure. + +And when he had emerged from a cold shower which, with the exception of +sleep, is the wisest counsellor in the world, now that he stood in fresh +linen and evening dress on the threshold of another night, he began to +wonder at his late exhilaration. + +To him the approach of every night was always fraught with mysterious +possibilities, and with a belief in Chance forever new. Adventure dawned +with the electric lights; opportunity awoke with the evening whistles +warning all labourers to rest. Opportunity for what? He did not know; he +had not even surmised; but perhaps it was that _something_, that subtle, +evanescent, volatile _something_ for which the world itself waits +instinctively, and has been waiting since the first day dawned. Maybe it +is happiness for which the world has waited with patient instinct +uneradicated; maybe it is death; and after all, the two may be +inseparable. + + * * * * * + +Desboro, looking into the coals of a dying fire, heard the clock +striking the hour. The night was before him--those strange hours in +which anything could happen before another sun gilded the sky pinnacles +of the earth. + +Another hour sounded and found him listless, absent-eyed, still gazing +into a dying fire. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +At eleven o'clock the next morning Miss Nevers had not arrived at +Silverwood. + +It was still raining hard, the brown Westchester fields, the leafless +trees, hedges, paths, roads, were soaked; pools stood in hollows with +the dead grass awash; ditches brimmed, river and brook ran amber riot, +and alder swamps widened into lakes. + +The chances were now that she would not come at all. Desboro had met +both morning trains, but she was not visible, and all the passengers had +departed leaving him wandering alone along the dripping platform. + +For a while he stood moodily on the village bridge beyond, listening to +the noisy racket of the swollen brook; and after a little it occurred to +him that there was laughter in the noises of the water, like the mirth +of the gods mocking him. + +"Laugh on, high ones!" he said. "I begin to believe myself the ass that +I appear to you." + +Presently he wandered back to the station platform, where he idled +about, playing with a stray and nondescript dog or two, and caressing +the station-master's cat; then, when he had about decided to get into +his car and go home, it suddenly occurred to him that he might telephone +to New York for information. And he did so, and learned that Miss Nevers +had departed that morning on business, for a destination unknown, and +would not return before evening. + +Also, the station-master informed him that the morning express now +deposited passengers at Silverwood Station, on request--an innovation of +which he had not before heard; and this put him into excellent spirits. + +"Aha!" he said to himself, considerably elated. "Perhaps I'm not such an +ass as I appear. Let the high gods laugh!" + +So he lighted a cigarette, played with the wastrel dogs some more, +flattered the cat till she nearly rubbed her head off against his legs, +took a small and solemn child onto his knee and presented it with a +silver dollar, while its overburdened German mother publicly nourished +another. + +"You are really a remarkable child," he gravely assured the infant on +his knee. "You possess a most extraordinary mind!"--the child not having +uttered a word or betrayed a vestige of human expression upon its +slightly soiled features. + +Presently the near whistle of the Connecticut Express brought him to his +feet. He lifted the astonishingly gifted infant and walked out; and when +the express rolled past and stopped, he set it on the day-coach platform +beside its stolid parent, and waved to it an impressive adieu. + +At the same moment, descending from the train, a tall young girl, in +waterproofs, witnessed the proceedings, recognised Desboro, and smiled +at the little ceremony taking place. + +"Yours?" she inquired, as, hat off, hand extended, he came forward to +welcome her--and the next moment blushed at her impulsive informality. + +"Oh, all kids seem to be mine, somehow or other," he said. "I'm awfully +glad you came. I was afraid you wouldn't." + +"Why?" + +"Because I didn't believe you really existed, for one thing. And then +the weather----" + +"Do you suppose mere _weather_ could keep me from the Desboro +collection? You have much to learn about me." + +"I'll begin lessons at once," he said gaily, "if you don't mind giving +them. Do you?" + +She smiled non-committally, and looked around her at the departing +vehicles. + +"We have a limousine waiting for us behind the station," he said. "It's +five muddy miles." + +"I had been wondering all the way up in the train just how I was to get +to Silverwood----" + +"You didn't suppose I'd leave you to find your way, did you?" + +"Business people don't expect limousines," she said, with an +unmistakable accent that sounded priggish even to herself--so prim, +indeed, that he laughed outright; and she finally laughed, too. + +"This is very jolly, isn't it?" he remarked, as they sped away through +the rain. + +She conceded that it was. + +"It's going to be a most delightful day," he predicted. + +She thought it was likely to be a _busy_ day. + +"And delightful, too," he insisted politely. + +"Why particularly delightful, Mr. Desboro?" + +"I thought you were looking forward with keen pleasure to your work in +the Desboro collection!" + +She caught a latent glimmer of mischief in his eye, and remained silent, +not yet quite certain that she liked this constant running fire of words +that always seemed to conceal a hint of laughter at her expense. + +Had they been longer acquainted, and on a different footing, she knew +that whatever he said would have provoked a response in kind from her. +But friendship is not usually born from a single business interview; nor +is it born perfect, like a fairy ring, over night. And it was only last +night, she made herself remember, that she first laid eyes on Desboro. +Yet it seemed curious that whatever he said seemed to awaken in her its +echo; and, though she knew it was an absurd idea, the idea persisted +that she already began to understand this young man better than she had +ever understood any other of his sex. + +He was talking now at random, idly but agreeably, about nothing in +particular. She, muffled in the fur robe, looked out through the +limousine windows into the rain, and saw brown fields set with pools in +every furrow, and squares of winter wheat, intensely green. + +And now the silver birch woods, which had given the house its name, +began to appear as outlying clumps across the hills; and in a few +moments the car swung into a gateway under groves of solemnly-dripping +Norway spruces, then up a wide avenue, lined with ranks of leafless, +hardwood trees and thickets of laurel and rhododendron, and finally +stopped before a house made of grayish-brown stone, in the rather +inoffensive architecture of early eighteen hundred. + +Mrs. Quant, in best bib and tucker, received them in the hallway, having +been instructed by Desboro concerning her attitude toward the expected +guest. But when she became aware of the slender youth of the girl, she +forgot her sniffs and misgivings, and she waddled, and bobbed, and +curtsied, overflowing with a desire to fondle, and cherish, and +instruct, which only fear of Desboro choked off. + +But as soon as Jacqueline had followed her to the room assigned, and had +been divested of wet outer-clothing, and served with hot tea, Mrs. Quant +became loquacious and confidential concerning her own personal ailments +and sorrows, and the history and misfortunes of the Desboro family. + +Jacqueline wished to decline the cup of tea, but Mrs. Quant insisted; +and the girl yielded. + +"Air you sure you feel well, Miss Nevers?" she asked anxiously. + +"Why, of course." + +"Don't be _too_ sure," said Mrs. Quant ominously. "Sometimes them that +feels bestest is sickest. I've seen a sight of sickness in my day, +dearie--typod, mostly. You ain't never had typod, now, hev you?" + +"Typhoid?" + +"Yes'm, typod!" + +"No, I never did." + +"Then you take an old woman's advice, Miss Nevers, and don't you go and +git it!" + +Jacqueline promised gravely; but Mrs. Quant was now fairly launched on +her favourite topic. + +"I've been forty-two years in this place--and Quant--my man--he was head +farmer here when he was took. Typod, it was, dearie--and you won't never +git it if you'll listen to me--and Quant, a man that never quarreled +with his vittles, but he was for going off without 'em that morning. Sez +he, 'Cassie, I don't feel good this mornin'!'--and a piece of pie and a +pork chop layin' there onto his plate. 'My vittles don't set right,' sez +he; 'I ain't a mite peckish.' Sez I, 'Quant, you lay right down, and +don't you stir a inch! You've gone and got a mild form of typod,' sez I, +knowing about sickness as I allus had a gift, my father bein' a natural +bone-setter. And those was my very words, dearie, 'a mild form of +typod.' And I was right and he was took. And when folks ain't well, it's +mostly that they've got a mild form of typod which some call +malairy----" + +There was no stopping her; Jacqueline tasted her hot tea and listened +sympathetically to that woman of many sorrows. And, sipping her tea, she +was obliged to assist at the obsequies of Quant, the nativity of young +Desboro, the dissolution of his grandparents and parents, and many, many +minor details, such as the freezing of water-pipes in 1907, the menace +of the chestnut blight, mysterious maladies which had affected cattle +and chickens on the farm--every variety of death, destruction, +dissolution, and despondency that had been Mrs. Quant's portion to +witness. + +And how she gloried in detailing her dismal career; and presently +pessimistic prophecies for the future became plainer as her undammed +eloquence flowed on: + +"And Mr. James, _he_ ain't well, neither," she said in a hoarse whisper. +"He don't know it, and he won't listen to _me_, dearie, but I _know_ +he's got a mild form of typod--he's that unwell the mornings when he's +been out late in the city. Say what you're a mind to, typod is typod! +And if you h'ain't got it you're likely to git it most any minute; but +he won't swaller the teas and broths and suffusions I bring him, and +he'll be took like everybody else one of these days, dearie--which he +wouldn't if he'd listen to me----" + +"Mrs. Quant," came Desboro's voice from the landing. + +"Y--yes, sir," stammered that guilty and agitated Cassandra. + +Jacqueline set aside her teacup and came to the stairs; their glances +met in the suppressed amusement of mutual comprehension, and he +conducted her to the hallway below, where a big log fire was blazing. + +"What was it--death, destruction, and general woe, as usual?" he asked. + +"And typod," she whispered. "It appears that _you_ have it!" + +"Poor old soul! She means all right; but imagine me here with her all +day, dodging infusions and broths and red flannel! Warm your hands at +the blaze, Miss Nevers, and I'll find the armoury keys. It will be a +little colder in there." + +She spread her hands to the flames, conscious of his subtle change of +manner toward her, now that she was actually under his roof--and liked +him for it--not in the least surprised that she was comprehending still +another phase of this young man's most interesting personality. + +For, without reasoning, her slight misgivings concerning him were +vanishing; instinct told her she might even permit herself a friendlier +manner, and she looked up smilingly when he came back swinging a bunch +of keys. + +"These belong to the Quant," he explained, "--honest old soul! Every gem +and ivory and lump of jade in the collection is at her mercy, for here +are the keys to every case. Now, Miss Nevers, what do you require? +Pencil and pad?" + +"I have my note-book, thanks--a new one in your honour." + +He said he was flattered and led the way through a wide corridor to the +eastern wing; unlocked a pair of massive doors, and swung them wide. +And, beside him, she walked into the armoury of the famous Desboro +collection. + +Straight ahead of her, paved with black marble, lay a lane through a +double rank of armed and mounted men in complete armour; and she could +scarcely suppress a little cry of surprise and admiration. + +"This is magnificent!" she exclaimed; and he saw her cheeks brighten, +and her breath coming faster. + +"It _is_ fine," he said soberly. + +"It is, indeed, Mr. Desboro! That is a noble array of armour. I feel +like some legendary princess of long ago, passing her chivalry in review +as I move between these double ranks. What a _wonderful_ collection! All +Spanish and Milanese mail, isn't it? Your grandfather specialised?" + +"I believe he did. I don't know very much about the collection, +technically." + +"Don't you care for it?" + +"Why, yes--more, perhaps, than I realised--now that you are actually +here to take it away." + +"But I'm not going to put it into a magic pocket and flee to New York +with it!" + +She spoke gaily, and his face, which had become a little grave, relaxed +into its habitual expression of careless good humour. + +They had slowly traversed the long lane, and now, turning, came back +through groups of men-at-arms, pikemen, billmen, arquebussiers, +crossbowmen, archers, halbardiers, slingers--all the multitudinous arms +of a polyglot service, each apparently equipped with his proper weapon +and properly accoutred for trouble. + +Once or twice she glanced at the trophies aloft on the walls, every +group bunched behind its shield and radiating from it under the drooping +remnants of banners emblazoned with arms, crests, insignia, devices, and +quarterings long since forgotten, except by such people as herself. + +[Illustration: "Now and then she ... halted on tip-toe to lift some +slitted visor"] + +She moved gracefully, leisurely, pausing now and then before some +panoplied manikin, Desboro sauntering beside her. Now and then she +stopped to inspect an ancient piece of ordnance, wonderfully wrought and +chased, now and then halted on tip-toe to lift some slitted visor and +peer into the dusky cavern of the helmet, where a painted face stared +back at her out of painted eyes. + +"Who scours all this mail?" she asked. + +"Our old armourer. My grandfather trained him. But he's very old and +rheumatic now, and I don't let him exert himself. I think he sleeps all +winter, like a woodchuck, and fishes all summer." + +"You ought to have another armourer." + +"I can't turn Michael out to starve, can I?" + +She swung around swiftly: "I didn't mean _that_!" and saw he was +laughing at her. + +"I know you didn't," he said. "But I can't afford two armourers. That's +the reason I'm disposing of these tin-clothed tenants of mine--to +economise and cut expenses." + +She moved on, evidently desiring to obtain a general impression of +the task before her, now and then examining the glass-encased labels at +the feet of the figures, and occasionally shaking her head. Already the +errant lock curled across her cheek. + +"What's the trouble?" he inquired. "Aren't these gentlemen correctly +ticketed?" + +"Some are not. That suit of gilded mail is not Spanish; it's German. It +is not very difficult to make such a mistake sometimes." + +Steam heat had been put in, but the vast hall was chilly except close to +the long ranks of oxidised pipes lining the walls. They stood a moment, +leaning against them and looking out across the place, all glittering +with the mail-clad figures. + +"I've easily three weeks' work before me among these mounted figures +alone, to say nothing of the men on foot and the trophies and +artillery," she said. "Do you know it is going to be rather expensive +for you, Mr. Desboro?" + +This did not appear to disturb him. + +"Because," she went on, "a great many mistakes have been made in +labelling, and some mistakes in assembling the complete suits of mail +and in assigning weapons. For example, that mounted man in front of you +is wearing tilting armour and a helmet that doesn't belong to it. That's +a childish mistake." + +"We'll put the proper lid on _him_," said Desboro. "Show it to me and +I'll put it all over him now." + +"It's up there aloft with the trophies, I think--the fifth group." + +"There's a ladder on wheels for a closer view of the weapons. Shall I +trundle it in?" + +He went out into the hallway and presently came back pushing a clanking +extension ladder with a railed top to it. Then he affixed the crank and +began to grind until it rose to the desired height. + +"All I ask of you is not to tumble off it," he said. "Do you promise?" + +She promised with mock seriousness: "Because I need _all_ my brains, you +see." + +"You've a lot of 'em, haven't you, Miss Nevers?" + +"No, not many." + +He shrugged: "I wonder, then, what a quantitative analysis of _mine_ +might produce." + +She said: "You are as clever as you take the trouble to be--" and +stopped herself short, unwilling to drift into personalities. + +"It's the interest that is lacking in me," he said, "--or perhaps the +incentive." + +She made no comment. + +"Don't you think so?" + +"I don't know." + +"--And don't care," he added. + +She flushed, half turned in protest, but remained silent. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, "I didn't mean to force your interest in +myself. Tell me, is there anything I can do for your comfort before I +go? And shall I go and leave you to abstruse and intellectual +meditation, or do I disturb you by tagging about at your heels?" + +His easy, light tone relieved her. She looked around her at the armed +figures: + +"You don't disturb me. I was trying to think where to begin. To-morrow +I'll bring up some reference books----" + +"Perhaps you can find what you want in my grandfather's library. I'll +show you where it is when you are ready." + +"I wonder if he has Grenville's monograph on Spanish and Milanese mail?" + +"I'll see." + +He went away and remained for ten minutes. She was minutely examining +the sword belonging to a rather battered suit of armour when he returned +with the book. + +"You see," she said, "you _are_ useful. I did well to suggest that you +remain here. Now, look, Mr. Desboro. This is German armour, and here is +a Spanish sword of a different century along with it! That's all wrong, +you know. Antonius was the sword-maker; here is his name on the +hexagonal, gilded iron hilt--'_Antonius Me Fecit_'." + +"You'll put that all right," he said confidently. "Won't you?" + +"That's why you asked me here, isn't it?" + +He may have been on the point of an indiscreet rejoinder, for he closed +his lips suddenly and began to examine another sword. It belonged to the +only female equestrian figure in the collection--a beautifully shaped +suit of woman's armour, astride a painted war-horse, the cuirass of +Milan plates. + +"The Countess of Oroposa," he said. "It was her peculiar privilege, +after the Count's death, to ride in full armour and carry a naked sword +across her knees when the Spanish Court made a solemn entry into cities. +Which will be about all from me," he added with a laugh. "Are you ready +for luncheon?" + +"Quite, thank you. But you _said_ that you didn't know much about this +collection. Let me see that sword, please." + +[Illustration: "She took it ... then read aloud the device in verse"] + +He drew it from its scabbard and presented the hilt. She took it, +studied it, then read aloud the device in verse: + +"'Paz Comigo Nunca Veo Y Siempre Guera Dese.'" ("There is never peace +with me; my desire is always war!") + +Her clear young voice repeating the old sword's motto seemed to ring a +little through the silence--as though it were the clean-cut voice of the +blade itself. + +"What a fine motto," he said guilelessly. "And you interpret it as +though it were your own." + +"I like the sound of it. There is no compromise in it." + +"Why not assume it for your own? 'There is never peace with me; my +desire is always war!' Why not adopt it?" + +"Do you mean that such a militant motto suits me?" she asked, amused, +and caught the half-laughing, half malicious glimmer in his eyes, and +knew in an instant he had divined her attitude toward himself, and +toward to her own self, too--war on them both, lest they succumb to the +friendship that threatened. Silent, preoccupied, she went back with him +through the armoury, through the hallway, into a rather commonplace +dining-room, where a table had already been laid for two. + +Desboro jingled a small silver bell, and presently luncheon was +announced. She ate with the healthy appetite of the young, and he +pretended to. Several cats and dogs of unaristocratic degree came +purring and wagging about the table, and he indulged them with an +impartiality that interested her, playing no favourites, but +allotting to each its portion, and serenely chastising the greedy. + +"What wonderful impartiality!" she ventured. "I couldn't do it; I'd be +sure to prefer one of them." + +"Why entertain preference for anything or anybody?" + +"That's nonsense." + +"No; it's sense. Because, if anything happens to one, there are the +others to console you. It's pleasanter to like impartially." + +She was occupied with her fruit cup; presently she glanced up at him: + +"Is that your policy?" + +"Isn't it a safe one?" + +"Yes. Is it yours?" + +"Wisdom suggests it to me--has always urged it. I'm not sure that it +always works. For example, I prefer champagne to milk, but I try not +to." + +"You always contrive to twist sense into nonsense." + +"You don't mind, do you?" + +"No; but don't you ever take anything seriously?" + +"Myself." + +"I'm afraid you don't." + +"Indeed, I do! See how my financial mishaps sent me flying to you for +help!" + +She said: "You don't even take seriously what you call your financial +mishaps." + +"But I take the remedy for them most reverently and most thankfully." + +"The remedy?" + +"You." + +A slight colour stained her cheeks; for she did not see just how to +avoid the footing they had almost reached--the understanding which, +somehow, had been impending from the moment they met. Intuition had +warned her against it. And now here it was. + +How could she have avoided it, when it was perfectly evident from the +first that he found her interesting--that his voice and intonation and +bearing were always subtly offering friendship, no matter what he said +to her, whether in jest or earnest, in light-hearted idleness or in all +the decorum of the perfunctory and commonplace. + +To have made more out of it than was in it would have been no sillier +than to priggishly discountenance his harmless good humour. To be prim +would have been ridiculous. Besides, everything innocent in her found an +instinctive pleasure, even in her own misgivings concerning this man and +the unsettled problem of her personal relations with him--unsolved with +her, at least; but he appeared to have settled it for himself. + +As they walked back to the armoury together, she was trying to think it +out; and she concluded that she might dare be toward him as +unconcernedly friendly as he would ever think of being toward her. And +it gave her a little thrill of pride to feel that she was equipped to +carry through her part in a light, gay, ephemeral friendship with one +belonging to a world about which she knew nothing at all. + +That ought to be her attitude--friendly, spirited, pretending to a +_savoir faire_ only surmised by her own good taste--lest he find her +stupid and narrow, ignorant and dull. And it occurred to her very +forcibly that she would not like that. + +So--let him admire her. + +His motives, perhaps, were as innocent as hers. Let him say the +unexpected and disconcerting things it amused him to say. She knew well +enough how to parry them, once her mind was made up not to entirely +ignore them; and that would be much better. That, no doubt, was the +manner in which women of his own world met the easy badinage of men; and +she determined to let him discover that she was interesting if she chose +to be. + +She had produced her note-book and pencil when they entered the armoury. +He carried Grenville's celebrated monograph, and she consulted it from +time to time, bending her dainty head beside his shoulder, and turning +the pages of the volume with a smooth and narrow hand that fascinated +him. + +From time to time, too, she made entries in her note-book, such as: +"Armet, Spanish, late XV century. Tilting harness probably made by +Helmschmid; espaliers, manteau d'armes, coude, left cuisse and colleret +missing. War armour, Milanese, XIV century; probably made by the +Negrolis; rere-brace, gorget, rondel missing; sword made probably by +Martinez, Toledo. Armour made in Germany, middle of XVI century, +probably designed by Diego de Arroyo; cuisses laminated." + +They stopped before a horseman, clad from head to spurs in superb mail. +On a ground of blackened steel the pieces were embossed with gold +grotesqueries; the cuirass was formed by overlapping horizontal plates, +the three upper ones composing a gorget of solid gold. Nymphs, satyrs, +gods, goddesses and cupids in exquisite design and composition framed +the "lorica"; cuisses and tassettes carried out the lorica pattern; +coudes, arm-guards, and genouillères were dolphin masks, gilded. + +"Parade armour," she said under her breath, "not war armour, as it has +been labelled. It is armour de luxe, and probably royal, too. Do you see +the collar of the Golden Fleece on the gorget? And there hangs the +fleece itself, borne by two cupids as a canopy for Venus rising from the +sea. That is probably Sigman's XVI century work. Is it not royally +magnificent!" + +"Lord! What a lot of lore you seem to have acquired!" he said. + +"But I was trained to this profession by the ablest teacher in +America--" her voice fell charmingly, "--by my father. Do you wonder +that I know a little about it?" + +They moved on in silence to where a man-at-arms stood leaning both +clasped hands over the gilded pommel of a sword. + +She said quickly: "That sword belongs to parade armour! How stupid to +give it to this pikeman! Don't you see? The blade is diamond sectioned; +Horn of Solingen's mark is on the ricasse. And, oh, what a wonderful +hilt! It is a miracle!" + +The hilt was really a miracle; carved in gold relief, Italian +renaissance style, the guard centre was decorated with black arabesques +on a gold ground; quillons curved down, ending in cupid's heads of +exquisite beauty. + +The guard was engraved with a cartouche enclosing the Three Graces; and +from it sprang a beautiful counter-guard formed out of two lovely +Caryatids united. The grip was made of heliotrope amethyst inset with +gold; the pommel constructed by two volutes which encompassed a tiny +naked nymph with emeralds for her eyes. + +"What a masterpiece!" she breathed. "It can be matched only in the Royal +Armoury of Madrid." + +"Have you been abroad, Miss Nevers?" + +"Yes, several times with my father. It was part of my education in +business." + +He said: "Yours is a French name?" + +"Father was French." + +"He must have been a very cultivated man." + +"Self-cultivated." + +"Perhaps," he said, "there once was a _de_ written before 'Nevers.'" + +She laughed: "No. Father's family were always bourgeois shopkeepers--as +I am." + +He looked at the dainty girl beside him, with her features and slender +limbs and bearing of an aristocrat. + +"Too bad," he said, pretending disillusion. "I expected you'd tell me +how your ancestors died on the scaffold, remarking in laudable chorus, +'_Vive le Roi!_'" + +She laughed and sparkled deliciously: "Alas, no, monsieur. But, _ma +foi!_ Some among them may have worked the guillotine for Sanson or +drummed for Santerre. + +"You seem to me to symbolise all the grace and charm that perished on +the Place de Grève." + +She laughed: "Look again, and see if it is not their Nemesis I more +closely resemble." + +And as she said it so gaily, an odd idea struck him that she _did_ +embody something less obvious, something more vital, than the symbol of +an aristocratic régime perishing en masse against the blood-red sky of +Paris. + +He did not know what it was about her that seemed to symbolise all that +is forever young and fresh and imperishable. Perhaps it was only the +evolution of the real world he saw in her opening into blossom and +disclosing such as she to justify the darkness and woe of the long +travail. + +She had left him standing alone with Grenville's book open in his hands, +and was now examining a figure wearing a coat of fine steel mail, with a +black corselet protecting back and breast decorated with _horizontal_ +bands. + +"Do you notice the difference?" she asked. "In German armour the bands +are vertical. This is Milanese, and I think the Negrolis made it. See +how exquisitely the morion is decorated with these lions' heads in gold +for cheek pieces, and these bands of gold damascene over the +skull-piece, that meet to form Minerva's face above the brow! I'm sure +it's the Negrolis work. Wait! Ah, here is the inscription! 'P. Iacobi et +Fratr Negroli Faciebant MDXXXIX.' Bring me Grenville's book, please." + +She took it, ran over the pages rapidly, found what she wanted, and then +stepped forward and laid her white hand on the shoulder of another grim, +mailed figure. + +"This is foot-armour," she said, "and does not belong with that morion. +It's neither Milanese nor yet of Augsburg make; it's Italian, but who +made it I don't know. You see it's a superb combination of parade armour +and war mail, with all the gorgeous design of the former and the +smoothness and toughness of the latter. Really, Mr. Desboro, this +investigation is becoming exciting. I never before saw such a suit of +foot-armour." + +"Perhaps it belonged to the catcher of some ancient baseball club," he +suggested. + +She turned, laughing, but exasperated: "I'm not going to let you remain +near me," she said. "You annihilate every atom of romance; you are an +anachronism here, anyway." + +"I know it; but you fit in delightfully with tournaments and pageants +and things----" + +"Go up on that ladder and sit!" resolutely pointing. + +He went. Perched aloft, he lighted a cigarette and surveyed the +prospect. + +"Mark Twain killed all this sort of thing for me," he observed. + +She said indignantly: "It's the only thing I never have forgiven him." + +"He told the truth." + +"I know it--I know it. But, oh, how could he write what he did about +King Arthur's Court! And what is the use of truth, anyway, unless it +leaves us ennobling illusions?" + +Ennobling illusions! She did not know it; but except for them she never +would have existed, nor others like her that are yet to come in myriads. + +Desboro waved his cigarette gracefully and declaimed: + + "The knights are dust, + Their good swords bust; + Their souls are up the spout we trust--" + +"Mr. Desboro!" + +"Mademoiselle?" + +"That silly parody on a noble verse is not humorous." + +"Truth seldom is. The men who wore those suits of mail were everything +that nobody now admires--brutal, selfish, ruthless----" + +"Mr. Desboro!" + +"Mademoiselle?" + +"Are there not a number of such gentlemen still existing on earth?" + +"New York's full of them," he admitted cheerfully, "but they conceal +what they really are on account of the police." + +"Is that all that five hundred years has taught men--concealment?" + +"Yes, and five thousand," he muttered; but said aloud: "It hasn't +anything to do with admiring the iron hats and clothes they wore. If +you'll let me come down I'll admire 'em----" + +"No." + +"I want to carry your book for you." + +"No." + +"--And listen to everything you say about the vertical stripes on their +Dutch trousers----" + +"Very well," she consented, laughing; "you may descend and examine these +gold inlaid and checkered trousers. They were probably made for a +fashionable dandy by Alonso Garcia, five hundred years ago; and you will +observe that they are still beautifully creased." + +So they passed on, side by side, while she sketched out her preliminary +work. And sometimes he was idly flippant and irresponsible, and +sometimes she thrilled unexpectedly at his quick, warm response to some +impulsive appeal that he share her admiration. + +Under the careless surface, she divined a sort of perverse intelligence; +she was certain that what appealed to her he, also, understood when he +chose to; because he understood so much--much that she had not even +imagined--much of life, and of the world, and of the men and women in +it. But, having lived a life so full, so different from her own, perhaps +his interest was less easily aroused; perhaps it might be even a little +fatigued by the endless pageant moving with him amid scenes of +brightness and happiness which seemed to her as far away from herself +and as unreal as scenes in the painted arras hanging on the walls. + +They had been speaking of operas in which armour, incorrectly designed +and worn, was tolerated by public ignorance; and, thinking of the +"horseshoe," where all that is wealthy, and intelligent, and wonderful, +and aristocratic in New York is supposed to congregate, she had mentally +placed him there among those elegant and distant young men who are to be +seen sauntering from one gilded box to another, or, gracefully posed, +decorating and further embellishing boxes already replete with jeweled +and feminine beauty; or in the curtained depths, mysterious silhouettes +motionless against the dull red glow. + +And, if those gold-encrusted boxes had been celestial balconies, full of +blessed damosels leaning over heaven's edge, they would have seemed no +farther away, no more accessible to her, than they seemed from where she +sometimes sat or stood, all alone, to listen to Farrar and Caruso. + + * * * * * + +The light in the armoury was growing a little dim. She bent more closely +over her note-book, the printed pages of Mr. Grenville, and the +shimmering, inlaid, and embossed armour. + +"Shall we have tea?" he suggested. + +"Tea? Oh, thank you, Mr. Desboro; but when the light fails, I'll have to +go." + +It was failing fast. She used the delicate tips of her fingers more +often in examining engraved, inlaid, and embossed surfaces. + +"I never had electricity put into the armoury," he said. "I'm sorry +now--for your sake." + +"I'm sorry, too. I could have worked until six." + +"There!" he said, laughing. "You have admitted it! What are you going to +do for nearly two hours if you don't take tea? Your train doesn't leave +until six. Did you propose to go to the station and sit there?" + +Her confused laughter was very sweet, and she admitted that she had +nothing to do after the light failed except to fold her hands and wait +for the train. + +"Then won't you have tea?" + +"I'd--rather not!" + +He said: "You could take it alone in your room if you liked--and rest a +little. Mrs. Quant will call you." + +She looked up at him after a moment, and her cheeks were very pink and +her eyes brilliant. + +"I'd rather take it with you, Mr. Desboro. Why shouldn't I say so?" + +No words came to him, and not much breath, so totally unexpected was her +reply. + +Still looking at him, the faint smile fading into seriousness, she +repeated: + +"Why shouldn't I say so? Is there any reason? You know better than I +what a girl alone may do. And I really would like to have some tea--and +have it with you." + +He didn't smile; he was too clever--perhaps too decent. + +"It's quite all right," he said. "We'll have it served in the library +where there's a fine fire." + +So they slowly crossed the armoury and traversed the hallway, where she +left him for a moment and ran up stairs to her room. When she rejoined +him in the library, he noticed that the insurgent lock of hair had been +deftly tucked in among its lustrous comrades; but the first shake of her +head dislodged it again, and there it was, threatening him, as usual, +from its soft, warm ambush against her cheek. + +"Can't you do anything with it?" he asked, sympathetically, as she +seated herself and poured the tea. + +"Do anything with what?" + +"That lock of hair. It's loose again, and it will do murder some day." + +She laughed with scarcely a trace of confusion, and handed him his cup. + +"That's the first thing I noticed about you," he added. + +"That lock of hair? I can't do anything with it. Isn't it horribly +messy?" + +"It's dangerous." + +"How absurd!" + +"Are you ever known as 'Stray Lock' among your intimates?" + +"I should think not," she said scornfully. "It sounds like a children's +picture-book story." + +"But you look like one." + +"Mr. Desboro!" she protested. "Haven't you any common sense?" + +"You look," he said reflectively, "as though you came from the same +bookshelf as 'Gold Locks,' 'The Robber Kitten,' and 'A Princess Far +Away,' and all those immortal volumes of the 'days that are no more.' +Would you mind if I label you 'Stray Lock,' and put you on the shelf +among the other immortals?" + +Her frank laughter rang out sweetly: + +"I very _much_ object to being labeled and shelved--particularly +shelved." + +"I'll promise to read you every day----" + +"No, thank you!" + +"I'll promise to take you everywhere with me----" + +"In your pocket? No, thank you. I object to being either shelved or +pocketed--to be consulted at pleasure--or when you're bored." + +They both had been laughing a good deal, and were slightly excited by +their game of harmless _double entendre_. But now, perhaps it was +becoming a trifle too obvious, and Jacqueline checked herself to glance +back mentally and see how far she had gone along the path of friendship. + +She could not determine; for the path has many twists and turnings, and +she had sped forward lightly and swiftly, and was still conscious of the +exhilaration of the pace in his gay and irresponsible company. + +Her smile changed and died out; she leaned back in her leather chair, +gazing absently at the fiery reflections crimsoning the andirons on the +hearth, and hearing afar, on some distant roof, the steady downpour of +the winter rain. + +Subtly the quiet and warmth of the room invaded her with a sense of +content, not due, perhaps, to them alone. And dreamily conscious that +this might be so, she lifted her eyes and looked across the table at +him. + +"I wonder," she said, "if this _is_ all right?" + +"What?" + +"Our--situation--here." + +"Situations are what we make them." + +"But," she asked candidly, "could you call this a business situation?" + +He laughed unrestrainedly, and finally she ventured to smile, secretly +reassured. + +[Illustration: "'Are business and friendship incompatible?'"] + +"Are business and friendship incompatible?" he inquired. + +"I don't know. Are they? I have to be careful in the shop, with younger +customers and clerks. To treat them with more than pleasant civility +would spoil them for business. My father taught me that. He served in +the French Army." + +"Do you think," he said gravely, "that you are spoiling me for business +purposes?" + +She smiled: "I was thinking--wondering whether you did not more +accurately represent the corps of officers and I the line. I am only a +temporary employee of yours, Mr. Desboro, and some day you may be angry +at what I do and you may say, 'Tonnerre de Dieu!' to me--which I +wouldn't like if we were friends, but which I'd otherwise endure." + +"We're friends already; what are you going to do about it?" + +She knew it was so now, for better or worse, and she looked at him +shyly, a little troubled by what the end of this day had brought her. + +Silent, absent-eyed, she began to wonder what such men as he really +thought of a girl of her sort. It could happen that his attitude toward +her might become like that of the only men of his kind she had ever +encountered--wealthy clients of her father, young and old, and all of +them inclined to offer her attentions which instinct warned her to +ignore. + +As for Desboro, even from the beginning she felt that his attitude +toward her depended upon herself; and, warranted or not, this sense of +security with him now, left her leisure to study him. And she concluded +that probably he was like the other men of his class whom she had +known--a receptive opportunist, inevitably her antagonist at heart, but +not to be feared except under deliberate provocation from her. And that +excuse he would never have. + +Aware of his admiration almost from the very first, perplexed, curious, +uncertain, and disturbed by turns, she was finally convinced that the +matter lay entirely with her; that she might accept a little, venture a +little in safety; and, perfectly certain of herself, enjoy as much of +what his friendship offered as her own clear wits and common sense +permitted. For she had found, so far, no metal in any man unalloyed. Two +years' experience alone with men had educated her; and whatever the +alloy in Desboro might be that lowered his value, she thought it less +objectionable than the similar amalgam out of which were fashioned the +harmless youths in whose noisy company she danced, and dined, and +bathed, and witnessed Broadway "shows"; the Eddies and Joes of the +metropolis, replicas in mind and body of clothing advertisements in +street cars. + +Her blue eyes, wandering from the ruddy andirons, were arrested by the +clock. What had happened? Was the clock still going? She listened, and +heard it ticking. + +"Is _that_ the right time?" she demanded incredulously. + +He said, so low she could scarcely hear him: "Yes, Stray Lock. Must I +close the story book and lay it away until another day?" + +She rose, brushing the bright strand from her cheek; he stood up, pulled +the tassel of an old-time bell rope, and, when the butler came, ordered +the car. + +She went away to her room, where Mrs. Quant swathed her in rain garments +and veils, and secretly pressed into her hand a bottle containing "a +suffusion" warranted to discourage any insidious advances of typod. + +"A spoonful before meals, dearie," she whispered hoarsely; "and don't +tell Mr. James--he'd be that disgusted with me for doin' of a Christian +duty. I'll have some of my magic drops ready when you come to-morrow, +and you can just lock the door and set and rock and enj'y them onto a +lump of sugar." + +A little dismayed, but contriving to look serious, Jacqueline thanked +her and fled. Desboro put her into the car and climbed in beside her. + +"You needn't, you know," she protested. "There are no highwaymen, are +there?" + +"None more to be dreaded than myself." + +"Then why do you go to the station with me?" + +He did not answer. She presently settled into her corner, and he wrapped +her in the fur robe. Neither spoke; the lamplight flashed ahead through +the falling rain; all else was darkness--the widest world of darkness, +it seemed to her fancy, that she ever looked out upon, for it seemed to +leave this man and herself alone in the centre of things. + +Conscious of him beside her, she was curiously content not to look at +him or to disturb the silence encompassing them. The sense of speed, the +rush through obscurity, seemed part of it--part of a confused and +pleasurable irresponsibility. + +Later, standing under the dripping eaves of the station platform with +him, watching the approaching headlight of the distant locomotive, she +said: + +"You have made it a very delightful day for me. I wanted to thank you." + +He was silent; the distant locomotive whistled, and the vista of wet +rails began to glisten red in the swift approach. + +"I don't want you to go to town alone on that train," he said abruptly. + +"What?" in utter surprise. + +"Will you let me go with you, Miss Nevers?" + +"Nonsense! I wander about everywhere alone. Please don't spoil it all. +Don't even go aboard to find a seat for me." + +The long train thundered by, brakes gripping, slowed, stopped. She +sprang aboard, turned on the steps and offered her hand: + +"Good-bye, Mr. Desboro." + +"To-morrow?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +They exchanged no further words; she stood a moment on the platform, as +the cars glided slowly past him and on into the rainy night. All the way +to New York she remained motionless in the corner of the seat, her cheek +resting against her gloved palm, thinking of what had happened--closing +her blue eyes, sometimes, to bring it nearer and make more real a day of +life already ended. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +When the doorbell rang the maid of all work pushed the button and stood +waiting at the top of the stairs. There was a pause, a moment's +whispering, then light footsteps flying through the corridor, and: + +"Where on earth have you been for a week?" asked Cynthia Lessler, coming +into Jacqueline's little parlour, where the latter sat knitting a white +wool skating jacket for herself. + +Jacqueline laid aside the knitting and greeted her visitor with a warm, +quick embrace. + +"Oh, I've been everywhere," she said. "Out in Westchester, mostly. +To-day being Sunday, I'm at home." + +"What were you doing in the country, sweetness?" + +"Business." + +"What kind?" + +"Oh, cataloguing a collection. Take the armchair and sit near the stove, +dear. And here are the chocolates. Put your feet on the fender as I do. +It was frightfully cold in Westchester yesterday--everything frozen +solid--and we--I skated all over the flooded fields and swamps. It was +simply glorious, Cynthia----" + +"I thought you were out there on business," remarked Cynthia dryly. + +"I was. I merely took an hour at noon for luncheon." + +"Did you?" + +"Certainly. Even a bricklayer has an hour at noon to himself." + +"Whose collection are you cataloguing?" + +"It belongs to a Mr. Desboro," said Jacqueline carelessly. + +"Where is it?" + +"In his house--a big, old house about five miles from the station----" + +"How do you get there?" + +"They send a car for me----" + +"Who?" + +"They--Mr. Desboro." + +"They? Is he plural?" + +"Don't be foolish," said Jacqueline. "It is his car and his collection, +and I'm having a perfectly good time with both." + +"And with him, too? Yes?" + +"If you knew him you wouldn't talk that way." + +"I know who he is." + +"Do you?" said Jacqueline calmly. + +"Yes, I do. He's the 'Jim' Desboro whose name you see in the fashionable +columns. I know something about _that_ young man," she added +emphatically. + +Jacqueline looked up at her with dawning displeasure. Cynthia, +undisturbed, bit into a chocolate and waved one pretty hand: + +"Read the _Tattler_, as I do, and you'll see what sort of a man your +young man is." + +"I don't care to read such a----" + +"I do. It tells you funny things about society. Every week or two +there's something about him. You can't exactly understand it--they put +it in a funny way--but you can guess. Besides, he's always going around +town with Reggie Ledyard, and Stuyve Van Alstyne, and--Jack Cairns----" + +"_Don't_ speak that way--as though you usually lunched with them. I hate +it." + +"How do you know I don't lunch with some of them? Besides everybody +calls them Reggie, and Stuyve, and Jack----" + +"Everybody except their mothers, probably. I don't want to hear about +them, anyway." + +"Why not, darling?" + +"Because you and I don't know them and never will----" + +Cynthia said maliciously: "You may meet them through your friend, Jimmy +Desboro----" + +"_That_ is the limit!" exclaimed Jacqueline, flushing; and her pretty +companion leaned back in her armchair and laughed until Jacqueline's +unwilling smile began to glimmer in her wrath-darkened eyes. + +"Don't torment me, Cynthia," she said. "You know quite well that it's a +business matter with me entirely." + +"Was it a business matter with that Dawley man? You had to get me to go +with you into that den of his whenever you went at all." + +Jacqueline shrugged and resumed her knitting: "What a horrid thing he +was," she murmured. + +Cynthia assented philosophically: "But most men bother a girl sooner or +later," she concluded. "You don't read about it in novels, but it's +true. Go down town and take dictation for a living. It's an education in +how to look out for yourself." + +"It's a rotten state of things," said Jacqueline under her breath. + +"Yes. It's funny, too. So many men _are_ that way. What do they care? Do +you suppose we'd be that way, too, if we were men?" + +[Illustration: "'There are nice men, too'"] + +"No. There are nice men, too." + +"Yes--dead ones." + +"Nonsense!" + +"With very few exceptions, Jacqueline. There are horrid, _horrid_ ones, +and _nice_, horrid ones, and dead ones and _dead_ ones--but only a few +nice, _nice_ ones. I've known some. You think your Mr. Desboro is one, +don't you?" + +"I haven't thought about him----" + +"Honestly, Jacqueline?" + +"I tell you I haven't! He's nice to _me_. That's all I know." + +"Is he _too_ nice?" + +"No. Besides, he's under his own roof. And it depends on a girl, +anyway." + +"Not always. If we behave ourselves we're dead ones; if we don't we'd +better be. Isn't it a rotten deal, Jacqueline! Just one fresh man after +another dropped into the discards because he gets too gay. And being +employed by the kind who'd never marry us spoils us for the others. +_You_ could marry one of your clients, I suppose, but I never could in a +million years." + +"You and I will never marry such men," said Jacqueline coolly. "Perhaps +we wouldn't if they asked us." + +"_You_ might. You're educated and bright, and--you _look_ the part, with +all the things you know--and your trips to Europe--and the kind of +beauty yours is. Why not? If I were you," she added, "I'd kill a man who +thought me good enough to hold hands with, but not good enough to +marry." + +"I don't hold hands," observed Jacqueline scornfully. + +"I do. I've done it when it was all right; and I've done it when I had +no business to; and the chances are I'll do it again without getting +hurt. And then I'll finally marry the sort of man you call Ed," she +added disgustedly. + +Jacqueline laughed, and looked intently at her: "You're _so_ pretty, +Cynthia--and so silly sometimes." + +Cynthia stretched her young figure full length in the chair, yawning and +crooking both arms back under her curly brown head. Her eyes, too, were +brown, and had in them always a half-veiled languor that few men could +encounter undisturbed. + +"A week ago," she said, "you told me over the telephone that you would +be at the dance. _I_ never laid eyes on you." + +"I came home too tired. It was my first day at Silverwood. I overdid it, +I suppose." + +"Silverwood?" + +"Where I go to business in Westchester," she explained patiently. + +"Oh, Mr. Desboro's place!" with laughing malice. + +"Yes, Mr. Desboro's place." + +The hint of latent impatience in Jacqueline's voice was not lost on +Cynthia; and she resumed her tormenting inquisition: + +"How long is it going to take you to catalogue Mr. Desboro's +collection?" + +"I have several weeks' work, I think--I don't know exactly." + +"All winter, perhaps?" + +"Possibly." + +"Is _he_ always there, darling?" + +Jacqueline was visibly annoyed: "He has happened to be, so far. I +believe he is going South very soon--if that interests you." + +"'Phone me when he goes," retorted Cynthia, unbelievingly. + +"What makes you say such things!" exclaimed Jacqueline. "I tell you he +isn't that kind of a man." + +"Read the _Tattler_, dearest!" + +"I won't." + +"Don't you ever read it?" + +"No. Why should I?" + +"Curiosity." + +"I haven't any." + +Cynthia laughed incredulously: + +"People who have no curiosity are either idiots or they have already +found out. Now, you are not an idiot." + +Jacqueline smiled: "And I haven't found out, either." + +"Then you're just as full of curiosity as the rest of us." + +"Not of unworthy curiosity----" + +"I never knew a good person who wasn't. I'm good, am I not, Jacqueline?" + +"Of course." + +"Well, then, I'm full of all kinds of curiosities--worthy and unworthy. +I want to know about everything!" + +"Everything good." + +"Good and bad. God lets both exist. I want to know about them." + +"Why be curious about what is bad? It doesn't concern us." + +"If you know what concerns you only, you'll never know anything. Now, +when I read a newspaper I read about fashionable weddings, millionaires, +shows, murders--I read everything--not because I'm going to be +fashionably married, or become a millionaire or a murderer, but because +all these things exist and happen, and I want to know all about them +because I'm not an idiot, and I haven't already found out. And so that's +why I buy the _Tattler_ whenever I have five cents to spend on it!" + +"It's a pity you're not more curious about things worth while," +commented Jacqueline serenely. + +Cynthia reddened: "Dear, I haven't the education or brain to be +interested in the things that occupy you." + +"I didn't mean that," protested Jacqueline, embarrassed. "I only----" + +"I know, dear. You are too sweet to say it; but it's true. The bunch you +play with knows it. We all realise that you are way ahead of us--that +you're different----" + +"Please don't say that--or think it." + +"But it's true. You really belong with the others--" she made a gay +little gesture--"over there in the Fifth Avenue district, where art gets +gay with fashion; where lady highbrows wear tiaras; where the Jims and +Jacks and Reggies float about and hand each other new ones between +quarts; where you belong, darling--wherever you finally land!" + +Jacqueline was laughing: "But I don't wish to land _there_! I never +wanted to." + +"All girls do! We all dream about it!" + +"Here is one girl who really doesn't. Of course, I'd like to have a few +friends of that kind. I'd rather like to visit houses where nobody has +to think of money, and where young people are jolly, and educated, and +dress well, and talk about interesting things----" + +"Dear, we all would like it. That's what I'm saying. Only there's a +chance for you because you know something--but none for us. We +understand that perfectly well--and we dream on all the same. We'd miss +a lot if we didn't dream." + +Jacqueline said mockingly: "I'll invite you to my Fifth Avenue +residence the minute I marry what you call a Reggie." + +"I'll come if you'll stand for me. I'm not afraid of any Reggie in the +bench show!" + +They laughed; Cynthia stretched out a lazy hand for another chocolate; +Jacqueline knitted, the smile still hovering on her scarlet lips. + +Bending over her work, she said: "You won't misunderstand when I tell +you how much I enjoy being at Silverwood, and how nice Mr. Desboro has +been." + +"_Has_ been." + +"Is, and surely will continue to be," insisted Jacqueline tranquilly. +"Shall I tell you about Silverwood?" + +Cynthia nodded. + +"Well, then, Mr. Desboro has such a funny old housekeeper there, who +gives me 'magic drops' on lumps of sugar. The drops are aromatic and +harmless, so I take them to please her. And he has an old, old butler, +who is too feeble to be very useful; and an old, old armourer, who comes +once a week and potters about with a bit of chamois; and a parlour maid +who is sixty and wears glasses; and a laundress still older. And a whole +troop of dogs and cats come to luncheon with us. Sometimes the butler +goes to sleep in the pantry, and Mr. Desboro and I sit and talk. And if +he doesn't wake up, Mr. Desboro hunts about for somebody to wait on us. +Of course there are other servants there, and farmers and gardeners, +too. Mr. Desboro has a great deal of land. And so," she chattered on +quite happily and irrelevantly, "we go skating for half an hour after +lunch before I resume my cataloguing. He skates very well; we are +learning to waltz on skates----" + +"Who does the teaching?" + +"He does. I don't skate very well; and unless it were for him I'd have +_such_ tumbles! And once we went sleighing--that is, he drove me to the +station--in rather a roundabout way. And the country was _so_ beautiful! +And the stars--oh, millions and millions, Cynthia! It was as cold as the +North Pole, but I loved it--and I had on his other fur coat and gloves. +He is very nice to me. I wanted you to understand the sort of man he +is." + +"Perhaps he is the original hundredth man," remarked Cynthia +skeptically. + +"Most men are hundredth men when the nine and ninety girls behave +themselves. It's the hundredth girl who makes the nine and ninety men +horrid." + +"That's what you believe, is it?" + +"I do." + +"Dream on, dear." She went to a glass, pinned her pretty hat, slipped +into the smart fur coat that Jacqueline held for her, and began to draw +on her gloves. + +"Can't you stay to dinner," asked Jacqueline. + +"Thank you, sweetness, but I'm dining at the Beaux Arts." + +"With any people I know?" + +"You don't know that particular 'people'," said Cynthia, smiling, "but +you know a friend of his." + +"Who?" + +"Mr. Desboro." + +"Really!" she said, colouring. + +Cynthia frowned at her: "Don't become sentimental over that young man!" + +"No, of course not." + +"Because I don't think he's very much good." + +"He _is_--but I _won't_," explained Jacqueline laughing. "I know quite +well how to take care of myself." + +"Do you?" + +"Yes; don't you?" + +"I--don't--know." + +"Cynthia! Of course you know!" + +"Do I? Well, perhaps I do. Perhaps all girls know how to take care of +themselves. But sometimes--especially when their home life is the +limit----" She hesitated, slowly twisting a hairpin through the +buttonhole of one glove. Then she buttoned it decisively. "When things +got so bad at home two years ago, and I went with that show--you didn't +see it--you were in mourning--but it ran on Broadway all winter. And I +met one or two Reggies at suppers, and another man--the same sort--only +his name happened to be Jack--and I want to tell you it was hard work +not to like him." + +Jacqueline stood, slim and straight, and silent, listening unsmilingly. + +Cynthia went on leisurely: + +"He was a friend of Mr. Desboro--the same kind of man, I suppose. +_That's_ why I read the _Tattler_--to see what they say about him." + +"Wh-what do they say?" + +"Oh, things--funny sorts of things, about his being attentive to this +girl, and being seen frequently with that girl. I don't know what they +mean exactly--they always make it sound queer--as though all the men and +women in society are fast. And this man, too--perhaps he is." + +"But what do you care, dear?" + +"Nothing. It was hard work not to like him. You don't understand how it +was; you've always lived at home. But home was hell for me; and I was +getting fifteen per; and it grew horribly cold that winter. I had no +fire. Besides--it was so hard not to like him. I used to come to see +you. Do you remember how I used to come here and cry?" + +"I--I thought it was because you had been so unhappy at home." + +"Partly. The rest was--the other thing." + +"You _did_ like him, then!" + +"Not--too much." + +"I understand that. But it's over now, isn't it?" + +Cynthia stood idly turning her muff between her white-gloved hands. + +"Oh, yes," she said, after a moment, "it's over. But I'm thinking how +nearly over it was with me, once or twice that winter. I thought I knew +how to take care of myself. But a girl never knows, Jacqueline. Cold, +hunger, debt, shabby clothes are bad enough; loneliness is worse. Yet, +these are not enough, by themselves. But if we like a man, with all that +to worry over--then it's pretty hard on us." + +"How _could_ you care for a bad man?" + +"Bad? Did I say he was? I meant he was like other men. A girl becomes +accustomed to men." + +"And likes them, notwithstanding?" + +"Some of them. It depends. If you like a man you seem to like him +anyhow. You may get angry, too, and still like him. There's so much of +the child in them. I've learned that. They're bad; but when you like one +of them, he seems to belong to you, somehow--badness and all. I must be +going, dear." + +Still, neither moved; Cynthia idly twirled her muff; Jacqueline, her +slender hands clasped behind her, stood gazing silently at the floor. + +Cynthia said: "That's the trouble with us all. I'm afraid you like this +man, Desboro. I tell you that he isn't much good; but if you already +like him, you'll go on liking him, no matter what I say or what he does. +For it's that way with us, Jacqueline. And where in the world would men +find a living soul to excuse them if it were not for us? That seems to +be about all we're for--to forgive men what they are--and what they do." + +"_I_ don't forgive them," said Jacqueline fiercely; "--or women, +either." + +"Oh, nobody forgives women! But you will find excuses for some man some +day--if you like him. I guess even the best of them require it. But the +general run of them have got to have excuses made for them, or no woman +would stand for her own honeymoon, and marriages would last about a +week. Good-bye, dear." + +They kissed. + +At the head of the stairs outside, Jacqueline kissed her again. + +"How is the play going?" she inquired. + +"Oh, it's going." + +"Is there any chance for you to get a better part?" + +"No chance I care to take. Max Schindler is like all the rest of them." + +Jacqueline's features betrayed her wonder and disgust, but she said +nothing; and presently Cynthia turned and started down the stairs. + +"Good-night, dear," she called back, with a gay little flourish of her +muff. "They're all alike--only we always forgive the one we care for!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +On Monday, Desboro waited all the morning for her, meeting every train. +At noon, she had not arrived. Finally, he called up her office and was +informed that Miss Nevers had been detained in town on business, and +that their Mr. Kirk had telephoned him that morning to that effect. + +He asked to speak to Miss Nevers personally; she had gone out, it +appeared, and might not return until the middle of the afternoon. + +So Desboro went home in his car and summoned Farris, the aged butler, +who was pottering about in the greenhouses, which he much preferred to +attending to his own business. + +"Did anybody telephone this morning?" asked the master. + +Farris had forgotten to mention it--was very sorry--and stood like an +aged hound, head partly lowered and averted, already blinking under the +awaited reprimand. But all Desboro said was: + +"Don't do it again, Farris; there are some things I won't overlook." + +He sat for a while in the library where a sheaf of her notes lay on the +table beside a pile of books--Grenville, Vanderdyne, Herrara's splendid +folios--just as she had left them on Saturday afternoon for the long, +happy sleigh-ride that ended just in time for him to swing her aboard +her train. + +He had plenty to do beside sitting there with keen, gray eyes fixed on +the pile of manuscript she had left unfinished; he always had plenty to +do, and seldom did it. + +His first impulse had been to go to town. Her absence was making the +place irksome. He went to the long windows and stood there, hands in his +pockets, smoking and looking out over the familiar landscape--a rolling +country, white with snow, naked branches glittering with ice under the +gilded blue of a cloudless sky, and to the north and west, low, wooded +mountains--really nothing more than hills, but impressively steep and +blue in the distance. + +A woodpecker, one of the few feathered winter residents, flickered +through the trees, flashed past, and clung to an oak, sticking +motionless to the bark for a minute or two, bright eyes inspecting +Desboro, before beginning a rapid, jerky exploration for sustenance. + +The master of Silverwood watched him, then, hands driven deeper into his +pockets, strolled away, glancing aimlessly at familiar objects--the +stiff and rather picturesque portraits of his grandparents in the dress +of 1820; the atrocious portraits of his parents in the awful costume of +1870; his own portrait, life size, mounted on a pony. + +He stood looking at the funny little boy, with the half contemptuous, +half curious interest which a man in the pride of his strength and youth +sometimes feels for the absurdly clothed innocence of what he was. And, +as usual when noticing the picture, he made a slight, involuntary effort +to comprehend that he had been once like that; and could not. + +At the end of the library, better portraits hung--his great-grandmother, +by Gilbert Stuart, still fresh-coloured and clear under the dim yellow +varnish which veiled but could not wither the delicate complexion and +ardent mouth, and the pink rosebud set where the folds of her white +kerchief crossed on her breast. + +And there was her husband, too, by an unknown or forgotten painter--the +sturdy member of the Provincial Assembly, and major in Colonel Thomas's +Westchester Regiment--a fine old fellow in his queue-ribbon and powdered +hair standing in the conventional fortress port-hole, framed by it, and +looking straight out of the picture with eyes so much like Desboro's +that it amused people. His easy attitude, too, the idle grace of the +posture, irresistibly recalled Desboro, and at the moment more than +ever. But he had been a man of vigour and of wit and action; and he was +lying out there in the snow, under an old brown headstone embellished +with cherubim; and the last of his name lounged here, in sight, from the +windows, of the spot where the first house of Desboro in America had +stood, and had collapsed amid the flames started by Tarleton's +blood-maddened troopers. + +To and fro sauntered Desboro, passing, unnoticed, old-time framed +engravings of the Desboros in Charles the Second's time, elegant, idle, +handsome men in periwigs and half-armour, and all looking out at the +world through port-holes with a hint of the race's bodily grace in their +half insolent attitudes. + +But office and preferment, peace and war, intrigue and plot, vigour and +idleness, had narrowed down through the generations into a last +inheritance for this young man; and the very last of all the Desboros +now idled aimlessly among the phantoms of a race that perhaps had +better be extinguished. + +He could not make up his mind to go to town or to remain in the vague +hope that she might come in the afternoon. + +He had plenty to do--if he could make up his mind to begin--accounts to +go over, household expenses, farm expenses, stable reports, agents' +memoranda concerning tenants and leases, endless lists of necessary +repairs. And there was business concerning the estate neglected, taxes, +loans, improvements to attend to--the thousand and one details which +irritated him to consider; but which, although he maintained an agent in +town, must ultimately come to himself for the final verdict. + +What he wanted was to be rid of it all--sell everything, pension his +father's servants, and be rid of the entire complex business which, he +pretended to himself, was slowly ruining him. But he knew in his heart +where the trouble lay, and that the carelessness, extravagance, the +disinclination for self-denial, the impatient and good-humoured aversion +to economy, the profound distaste for financial detail, were steadily +wrecking one of the best and one of the last of the old-time Westchester +estates. + +In his heart he knew, too, that all he wanted was to concentrate +sufficient capital to give him the income he thought he needed. + +No man ever had the income he thought he needed. And why Desboro +required it, he himself didn't know exactly; but he wanted sufficient to +keep him comfortable--enough so that he could feel he might do anything +he chose, when, how, and where he chose, without fear or care for the +future. And no man ever lived to enjoy such a state of mind, or to do +these things with impunity. + +But Desboro's mind was bent on it; he seated himself at the library +table and began to figure it out. Land in Westchester brought high +prices--not exactly in that section, but near enough to make his acreage +valuable. Then, the house, stable, garage, greenhouses, the three farms, +barns, cattle houses, water supply, the timber, power sites, meadow, +pasture--all these ought to make a pretty figure. And he jotted it down +for the hundredth time in the last two years. + +Then there was the Desboro collection. That ought to bring---- + +[Illustration: "And he sat thinking of Jacqueline Nevers"] + +He hesitated, his pencil finally fell on the table, rolled to the edge +and dropped; and he sat thinking of Jacqueline Nevers, and of the week +that had ended as the lights of her train faded far away into the winter +night. + +He sat so still and so long that old Farris came twice to announce +luncheon. After a silent meal in company with the dogs and cats of low +degree, he lighted a cigarette and went back into the library to resume +his meditations. + +Whatever they were, they ceased abruptly whenever the distant telephone +rang, and he waited almost breathlessly for somebody to come and say +that he was wanted on the wire. But the messages must have been to the +cook or butler, from butcher, baker, and gentlemen of similar +professions, for nobody disturbed him, and he was left free to sink back +into the leather corner of the lounge and continue his meditations. Once +the furtive apparition of Mrs. Quant disturbed him, hovering ominously +at the library door, bearing tumbler and spoon. + +"I won't take it," he said decisively. + +There was a silence, then: + +"Isn't the young lady coming, Mr. James?" + +"I don't know. No, probably not to-day." + +"Is--is the child sick?" she stammered. + +"No, of course not. I expect she'll be here in the morning." + + * * * * * + +She was not there in the morning. Mr. Mirk, the little old salesman in +the silk skull-cap, telephoned to Farris that Miss Nevers was again +detained in town on business at Mr. Clydesdale's, and that she might +employ a Mr. Sissly to continue her work at Silverwood, if Mr. Desboro +did not object. Mr. Desboro was to call her up at three o'clock if he +desired further information. + +Desboro went into the library and sat down. For a while his idle +reflections, uncontrolled, wandered around the main issue, errant +satellites circling a central thought which was slowly emerging from +chaos and taking definite weight and shape. And the thought was of +Jacqueline Nevers. + +Why was he waiting here until noon to talk to this girl? Why was he here +at all? Why had he not gone South with the others? A passing fancy might +be enough to arouse his curiosity; but why did not the fancy pass? What +did he want to say to her? What did he want of her? Why was he spending +time thinking about her--disarranging his routine and habits to be here +when she came? _What_ did he want of her? She was agreeable to talk to, +interesting to watch, pretty, attractive. Did he want her friendship? +To what end? He'd never see her anywhere unless he sought her out; he +would never meet her in any circle to which he had been accustomed, +respectable or otherwise. Besides, for conversation he preferred men to +women. + +What did he want with her or her friendship--or her blue eyes and bright +hair--or the slim, girlish grace of her? What was there to do? How many +more weeks did he intend to idle about at her heels, follow her, look at +her, converse with her, make a habit of her until, now, he found that to +suddenly break the habit of only a week's indulgence was annoying him! + +And suppose the habit were to grow. Into what would it grow? And how +unpleasant would it be to break when, in the natural course of events, +circumstances made the habit inconvenient? + +And, always, the main, central thought was growing, persisting. _What_ +did he want of her? He was not in love with her any more than he was +always lightly in love with feminine beauty. Besides, if he were, what +would it mean? Another affair, with all its initial charm and gaiety, +its moments of frivolity, its moments of seriousness, its sudden crisis, +its combats, perplexities, irresolution, the faint thrill of its deeper +significance startling both to clearer vision; and then the end, +whatever it might be, light or solemn, irresponsible or care-ridden, gay +or sombre, for one or the other. + +What did he want? Did he wish to disturb her tranquility? Was he trying +to awaken her to some response? And what did he offer her to respond to? +The flattery of his meaningless attentions, or the honour of falling in +love with a Desboro, whose left hand only would be offered to support +both slim white hands of hers? + +He ought to have gone South, and he knew it, now. Last week he had told +himself--and her occasionally--that he was going South in a week. And +here he was, his head on his hands and his elbows on the table, looking +vacantly at the pile of manuscript she had left there, and thinking of +the things that should not happen to them both. + +And who the devil was this fellow Sissly? Why had she suddenly changed +her mind and suggested a creature named Sissly? Why didn't she finish +the cataloguing herself? She had been enthusiastic about it. Besides, +she had enjoyed the skating and sleighing, and the luncheons and teas, +and the cats and dogs--and even Mrs. Quant. She had said so, too. And +now she was too busy to come any more. + +Had he done anything? Had he been remiss, or had he ventured too many +attentions? He couldn't recall having done anything except to show her +plainly enough that he enjoyed being with her. Nor had she concealed her +bright pleasure in his companionship. And they had become such good +comrades, understanding each other's moods so instinctively now--and +they had really found such unfeigned amusement in each other that it +seemed a pity--a pity---- + +"Damn it," he said, "if she cares no more about it than that, she can +send Sissly, and I'll go South!" + +But the impatience of hurt vanity died away; the desire to see her grew; +the habit of a single week was already unpleasant to break. And it would +be unpleasant to try to forget her, even among his own friends, even in +the South, or in drawing-rooms, or at the opera, or at dances, or in +any of his haunts and in any sort of company. + +He might forget her if he had only known her better, discovered more of +her real self, unveiled a little of her deeper nature. There was so much +unexplored--so much that interested him, mainly, perhaps, because he had +not discovered it. For theirs had been the lightest and gayest of +friendships, with nothing visible to threaten a deeper entente; merely, +on her part, a happy enjoyment and a laughing parrying in the eternal +combat that never entirely ends, even when it means nothing. And on his +side it had been the effortless attentions of a man aware of her young +and unspoiled charm--conscious of an unusual situation which always +fascinates all men. + +He had had no intention, no idea, no policy except to drift as far as +the tides of destiny carried him in her company. The situation was +agreeable; if it became less so, he could take to the oars and row where +he liked. + +But the tides had carried him to the edge of waters less clear; he was +vaguely aware of it now, aware, too, that troubled seas lay somewhere +behind the veil. + +The library clock struck three times. He got up and went to the +telephone booth. Miss Nevers was there; would speak to him if he could +wait a moment. He waited. Finally, a far voice called, greeting him +pleasantly, and explaining that matters which antedated her business at +Silverwood had demanded her personal attention in town. To his request +for particulars, she said that she had work to do among the jades and +Chinese porcelains belonging to a Mr. Clydesdale. + +"I know him," said Desboro curtly. "When do you finish?" + +"I have finished for the present. Later there is further work to be done +at Mr. Clydesdale's. I had to make certain arrangements before I went to +you--being already under contract to Mr. Clydesdale, and at his service +when he wanted me." + +There was a silence. Then he asked her when she was coming to +Silverwood. + +"Did you not receive my message?" she asked. + +"About--what's his name? Sissly? Yes, I did, but I don't want him. I +want you or nobody!" + +"You are unreasonable, Mr. Desboro. Lionel Sissly is a very celebrated +connoisseur." + +"Don't you want to come?" + +"I have so many matters here----" + +"Don't you _want_ to?" he persisted. + +"Why, of course, I'd like to. It is most interesting work. But Mr. +Sissly----" + +"Oh, hang Mr. Sissly! Do you suppose he interests me? You said that this +work might take you weeks. You said you loved it. You apparently +expected to be busy with it until it was finished. Now, you propose to +send a man called Sissly! Why?" + +"Don't you know that I have other things----" + +"What have I done, Miss Nevers?" + +"I don't understand you." + +"What have I done to drive you away?" + +"How absurd! Nothing! And you've been so kind to me----" + +"You've been kind to me. Why are you no longer?" + +"I--it's a question--of business--matters which demand----" + +"Will you come once more?" + +No reply. + +"Will you?" he repeated. + +"Is there any reason----" + +"Yes." + +Another pause, then: + +"Yes, I'll come--if there's a reason----" + +"When?" + +"To-morrow?" + +"Do you promise?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I'll meet you as usual." + +"Thank you." + +He said: "How is your skating jacket coming along?" + +"I have--stopped work on it." + +"Why?" + +"I do not expect to--have time--for skating." + +"Didn't you ever expect to come up here again?" he asked with a slight +shiver. + +"I thought that Mr. Sissly could do what was necessary." + +"Didn't it occur to you that you were ending a friendship rather +abruptly?" + +She was silent. + +"Don't you think it was a trifle brusque, Miss Nevers?" + +"Does the acquaintanceship of a week count so much with you, Mr. +Desboro?" + +"You know it does." + +"No. I did not know it. If I had supposed so, I would have written a +polite letter regretting that I could no longer personally attend to the +business in hand." + +"Doesn't it count at all with you?" he asked. + +"What?" + +"Our friendship." + +"Our acquaintanceship of a single week? Why, yes. I remember it with +pleasure--your kindness, and Mrs. Quant's----" + +"How on earth can you talk to me that way?" + +"I don't understand you." + +"Then I'll say, bluntly, that it meant a lot to me, and that the place +is intolerable when you're not here. That is specific, isn't it?" + +"Very. You mean that, being accustomed to having somebody to amuse you, +your own resources are insufficient." + +"Are you serious?" + +"Perfectly. That is why you are kind enough to miss my coming and +going--because I amuse you." + +"Do you think that way about me?" + +"I do when I think of you. You know sometimes I'm thinking of other +things, too, Mr. Desboro." + +He bit his lip, waited for a moment, then: + +"If you feel that way, you'll scarcely care to come up to-morrow. +Whatever arrangement you make about cataloguing the collection will be +all right. If I am not here, communications addressed to the Olympian +Club will be forwarded----" + +"Mr. Desboro!" + +"Yes?" + +"Forgive me--won't you?" + +There was a moment's interval, fraught heavily with the possibilities +of Chance, then the silent currents of Fate flowed on toward her +appointed destiny and his--whatever it was to be, wherever it lay, +behind the unstirring, inviolable veil. + +"Have you forgiven me?" + +"And you me?" he asked. + +"I have nothing to forgive; truly, I haven't. Why did you think I had? +Because I have been talking flippantly? You have been so uniformly +considerate and kind to me--you _must_ know that it was nothing you said +or did that made me think--wonder--whether--perhaps----" + +"What?" he insisted. But she declined further explanation in a voice so +different, so much gayer and happier than it had sounded before, that he +was content to let matters rest--perhaps dimly surmising something +approaching the truth. + +She, too, noticed the difference in his voice as he said: + +"Then may I have the car there as usual to-morrow morning?" + +"Please." + +He drew an unconscious sigh of relief. She said something more that he +could scarcely hear, so low and distant sounded her voice, and he asked +her to repeat it. + +"I only said that I would be happy to go back," came the far voice. + +Quick, unconsidered words trembled on his lips for utterance; perhaps +fear of undoing what had been done restrained him. + +"Not as happy as I will be to see you," he said, with an effort. + +"Thank you. Good-bye, Mr. Desboro." + +"Good-bye." + + * * * * * + +The sudden accession of high spirits filled him with delightful +impatience. He ranged the house restlessly, traversing the hallway and +silent rooms. A happy inclination for miscellaneous conversation +impelled him to long-deferred interviews with people on the place. He +talked business to Mrs. Quant, to Michael, the armourer; he put on +snow-shoes and went cross lots to talk to his deaf head-farmer, Vail. +Then he came back and set himself resolutely to his accounts; and after +dinner he wrote letters, a yellow pup dozing on his lap, a cat purring +on his desk, and occasionally patting with tentative paw the +letter-paper when it rustled. + +A mania for cleaning up matters which had accumulated took possession of +him--and it all seemed to concern, in some occult fashion, the coming of +Jacqueline on the morrow--as though he wished to begin again with a +clean slate and a conscience undisturbed. But what he was to begin he +did not specify to himself. + +Bills--heavy ones--he paid lightly, drawing check after check to cover +necessities or extravagances, going straight through the long list of +liabilities incurred from top to bottom. + +Later, the total troubled him, and he made himself do a thing to which +he was averse--balance his check-book. The result dismayed him, and he +sat for a while eyeing the sheets of carelessly scratched figures, and +stroking the yellow pup on his knees. + +"What do I want with all these clubs and things?" he said impatiently. +"I never use 'em." + +On the spur of impulse, he began to write resignations, wholesale, +ridding himself of all kinds of incumbrances--shooting clubs in Virginia +and Georgia and North Carolina, to which he had paid dues and +assessments for years, and to which he had never been; fishing clubs in +Maine and Canada and Nova Scotia and California; New York clubs, +including the Cataract, the Old Fort, the Palisades, the Cap and Bells, +keeping only the three clubs to which men of his sort are supposed to +belong--the Patroons, the Olympian, and his college club. But everything +else went--yacht clubs, riding clubs, golf clubs, country clubs of every +sort--everything except his membership in those civic, educational, +artistic, and charitable associations to which such New York families as +his owed a moral and perpetual tribute. + +It was nearly midnight when the last envelope was sealed and stamped, +and he leaned back with a long, deep breath of relief. To-morrow he +would apply the axe again and lop off such extravagances as +saddle-horses in town, and the two cars he kept there. They should go to +the auction rooms; he'd sell his Long Island bungalow, too, and the +schooner and the power boats, and his hunters down at Cedar Valley; and +with them would go groom and chauffeur, captain and mechanic, and the +thousand maddening expenses that were adding daily to a total debt that +had begun secretly to appal him. + +In his desk he knew there was an accumulated mass of unpaid bills. He +remembered them now and decided he didn't want to think about them. +Besides, he'd clear them away pretty soon--settle accounts with tailor, +bootmaker, haberdasher--with furrier, modiste and jeweler--and a dull +red settled under his cheek bones as he remembered these latter bills, +which he would scarcely care to exhibit to the world at large. + +"Ass that I've been," he muttered, absently stroking the yellow pup. +Which reflection started another train of thought, and he went to a +desk, unlocked it, pulled out the large drawer, and carried it with its +contents to the fireplace. + +The ashes were still alive and the first packet of letters presently +caught fire. On them he laid a silken slipper of Mrs. Clydesdale's and +watched it shrivel and burn. Next, he tossed handfuls of unassorted +trifles, letters, fans, one or two other slippers, gloves of different +sizes, dried remnants of flowers, programmes scribbled over; and when +the rubbish burned hotly, he added photographs and more letters without +even glancing at them, except where, amid the flames, he caught a +momentary glimpse of some familiar signature, or saw some pretty, +laughing phantom of the past glow, whiten to ashes, and evaporate. + +Fire is a great purifier; he felt as though the flames had washed his +hands. Much edified by the moral toilet, and not concerned that all such +ablutions are entirely superficial, he watched with satisfaction the +last bit of ribbon shrivel, the last envelope flash into flame. Then he +replaced the desk drawer, leaving the key in it--because there was now +no reason why all the world and its relatives should not rummage if they +liked. + +He remembered some letters and photographs and odds and ends scattered +about his rooms in town, and made a mental note to clear them out of his +life, too. + +Mentally detached, he stood aloof in spirit and viewed with interest the +spectacle of his own regeneration, and calmly admired it. + +"I'll cut out all kinds of things," he said to himself. "A devout girl +in Lent will have nothing on me. Nix for the bowl! Nix for the fat pat +hand! Throw up the sponge! Drop the asbestos curtain!" He made pretence +to open an imaginary door: "Ladies, pass out quietly, please; the show +is over." + +The cat woke up and regarded him gravely; he said to her: + +"You don't even need a pocket-book, do you? And you are quite right; +having things is a nuisance. The less one owns the happier one is. Do +you think I'll have sense enough to remember this to-morrow, and not be +ass enough to acquire more--a responsibility, for example? Do you think +I can be trusted to mind my business when _she_ comes to-morrow? And not +say something that I'll be surely sorry for some day--or something +she'll be sorry for? Because she's so pretty, pussy--so disturbingly +pretty--and so sweet. And I ought to know by this time that intelligence +and beauty are a deadly combination I had better let alone until I find +them in the other sort of girl. That's the trouble, pussy." He lifted +the sleepy cat and held it at arm's length, where it dangled, purring +all the while. "That's the trouble, kitty. I haven't the slightest +intentions; and as for friends, men prefer men. And that's the truth, +between you and me. It's rather rotten, isn't it, pussy? But I'll be +careful, and if I see that she is capable of caring for me, I'll go +South before it hurts either of us. That will be the square thing to do, +I suppose--and neither of us the worse for another week together." + +He placed the cat on the floor, where it marched to and fro with tail +erect, inviting further attentions. But Desboro walked about, turning +out the electric lights, and presently took himself off to bed, fixed in +a resolution that the coming week should be his last with this unusual +girl. For, after all, he concluded she had not moved his facile +imagination very much more than had other girls of various sorts, whose +souvenirs lay now in cinders on his hearth, and long since had turned to +ashes in his heart. + +What was the use? Such affairs ended one way or another--but they always +ended. All he wanted to find out, all he was curious about, was whether +such an unusual girl could be moved to response--he merely wanted to +know, and then he would let her alone, and no harm done--nothing to +disturb the faint fragrance of a pretty souvenir that he and she might +carry for a while--a week or two--perhaps a month--before they both +forgot. + +And, conscious of his good intentions, feeling tranquil, complacent, and +slightly noble, he composed himself to slumber, thinking how much +happier this world would be if men invariably behaved with the +self-control that occasionally characterised himself. + + * * * * * + +In the city, Jacqueline lay awake on her pillow, unable to find a refuge +in sleep from the doubts, questions, misgivings assailing her. + +Wearied, impatient, vexed, by turns, that her impulse and decision +should keep her sleepless--that the thought of going back to Silverwood +should so excite her, she turned restlessly in her bed, unwilling to +understand, humiliated in heart, ashamed, vaguely afraid. + +Why should she have responded to an appeal from such a man as Desboro? +Her own calm judgment had been that they had seen enough of each +other--for the present, anyway. Because she knew, in her scared soul, +that she had not meant it to be final--that some obscure idea remained +of seeing him again, somewhere. + +Yet, something in his voice over the wire--and something more disturbing +still when he spoke so coolly about going South--had swayed her in her +purpose to remain aloof for a while. But there was no reason, after all, +for her to take it so absurdly. She would go once more, and then permit +a long interval to elapse before she saw him again. If she actually had, +as she began to believe, an inclination for his society, she would show +herself that she could control that inclination perfectly. + +Why should any man venture to summon her--for it was a virtual summons +over the wire--and there had been arrogance in it, too. His curt +acquiescence in her decision, and his own arbitrary decision to go South +had startled her out of her calmly prepared rôle of business woman. She +was trying to recall exactly what she had said to him afterward to make +his voice change once more, and her own respond so happily. + +Why should seeing him be any unusual happiness to her--knowing who and +what he had been and was--a man of the out-world with which she had not +one thing in common--a man who could mean nothing to her--could not even +remain a friend because their two lives would never even run within +sight of each other. + +She would never know anybody he knew. They would never meet anywhere +except at Silverwood. How could they, once the business between them was +transacted? She couldn't go to Silverwood except on business; he would +never think of coming here to see her. Could she ask him--venture, +perhaps, to invite him to dinner with some of her friends? Which +friends? Cynthia and--who else? The girls she knew would bore him; he'd +have only contempt for the men. + +Then what did all this perplexity mean that was keeping her awake? And +why was she going back to Silverwood? Why! Why! Was it to see with her +own eyes the admiration for herself in his? She had seen it more than +once. Was it to learn more about this man and his liking for her--to +venture a guess, perhaps, as to how far that liking might carry him with +a little encouragement--which she would not offer, of course? + +She began to wonder how much he really did like her--how greatly he +might care if she never were to see him again. Her mind answered her, +but her heart appealed wistfully from the clear decision. + +Lying there, blue eyes open in the darkness, head cradled on her crossed +arms, she ventured to recall his features, summoning them shyly out of +space; and she smiled, feeling the tension subtly relaxing. + +Then she drifted for a while, watching his expression, a little dreading +lest even his phantom laugh at her out of those eyes too wise. + +Visions came to her awake to reassure her; he and she in a sleigh +together under the winter stars--he and she in the sunlight, their +skates flashing over the frozen meadows--he and she in the armoury, +heads together over some wonder of ancient craftsmanship--he and she at +luncheon--in the library--always he and she together in happy +companionship. Her eyelids fluttered and drooped; and sleep came, and +dreams--wonderful, exquisite, past belief--and still of him and of +herself together, always together in a magic world that could not be +except for such as they. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +When the sombre morning broke at last, Jacqueline awoke, sprang from her +bed, and fluttered away about her dressing as blithely as an April +linnet in a hurry. + +She had just time to breakfast and catch her train, with the help of +heaven and a taxicab, and she managed to do it about the same moment +that Desboro, half a hundred miles away, glanced out of his +dressing-room window and saw the tall trees standing like spectres in +the winter fog, and the gravel on the drive shining wet and muddy +through melting snow. But he turned to the mirror again, whistling a gay +air, and twisted his necktie into a smarter knot. Then he went out to +the greenhouses and snipped off enough carnations to make a great sheaf +of clove-scented blossoms for Jacqueline's room; and after that he +proceeded through the other sections of the fragrant glass galleries, +cutting, right and left, whatever he considered beautiful enough to do +her fresh, young beauty honour. + +At the station, he saw her standing on the platform of the drawing-room +car as the train thundered in, veil and raincoat blowing, just as he had +seen her there the first time she arrived at Silverwood station. + +The car steps were sheathed in ice; she had already ventured down a +little way when he reached her and offered aid; and she permitted him to +swing her to the cinder-strewn ground. + +"Are you really here!" he exclaimed, oblivious of interested glances +from trainmen and passengers. + +They exchanged an impulsive hand-clasp. Both were unusually animated. + +"Are you well?" she asked, as though she had been away for months. + +"Yes. Are you? It's perfectly fine of you to come"--still retaining her +hand--"I wonder if you know how glad I am to see you! I wonder if you +really do!" + +She started to say something, hesitated, blushed, then their hands +parted, and she answered lightly: + +"What a very cordial welcome for a business girl on a horrid day! You +mustn't spoil me, Mr. Desboro." + +"I was afraid you might not come," he said; and indiscreet impulse +prompted her to answer, as she had first answered him there on the +platform two weeks ago: + +"Do you suppose that mere weather could have kept me away from the +famous Desboro collection?" + +The charming malice in her voice, the delightful impertinence of her +reply, so obviously at variance with fact, enchanted him. She was +conscious of its effect on him, and, already slightly excited, ventured +to laugh at her own thrust as though challenging his self-conceit to +believe that she had even grazed herself with the two-edged weapon. + +"Do I count for absolutely nothing?" he said. + +"Do you flatter yourself that I returned to see _you_?" + +"Let me believe it for just one second." + +"I don't doubt that you will secretly and triumphantly believe it all +the time." + +"If I dared----" + +"Is that sort of courage lacking in you, Mr. Desboro? I have heard +otherwise. And how long are we going to remain here on this foggy +platform?" + +Here was an entirely new footing; but in the delightful glow of youthful +indiscretion she still maintained her balance lightly, mockingly. + +"Please tell me," she said, as they entered the car, and he drew the big +fur robe around her, "just how easily you believe in your own +overpowering attractions. Do women encourage you in such modest faith in +yourself? Or are you merely created that way?" + +"The house has been a howling wilderness without you," he said. "I admit +_my_ loneliness, anyway." + +"_I_ admit nothing. Besides, I wasn't." + +"Is that true?" + +She laughed tormentingly, eyes and cheeks brilliant, now undisguisedly +on guard--her first acknowledgment that in this man she condescended to +divine the hereditary adversary. + +"I mean to punish," said her eyes. + +"What an attack from a clear sky on a harmless young man," he said, at +last. + +"No, an attack from the fog on an insufferable egoist--an ambush, Mr. +Desboro. And I thought a little sword-play might do your complacent wits +a service. Has it?" + +"But you begin by a dozen thrusts, then beat down my guard, and cuff me +about with blade and pommel----" + +"I had to. Now, does your vanity believe that my return to Silverwood +was influenced by your piteous appeal over the wire--and your bad +temper, too?" + +"No," he said solemnly. + +"Well, then! I came here partly to put my notes in better shape for Mr. +Sissly, partly to clear up odds and ends and leave him a clear field to +plow--in your persistent company," she added, with such engaging malice +that even the name of Sissly, which he hated, made him laugh. + +"You won't do that," he said confidently. + +"Do what, Mr. Desboro?" + +"Turn me over to anything named Sissly." + +"Indeed, I will--you and your celebrated collection! Of course you +_could_ go South, but, judging from your devotion to the study of +ancient armour----" + +"You don't mean it, do you?" + +"What? About your devotion?" + +"No, about Sissly." + +"Yes, I do. Listen to me, Mr. Desboro. I made up my mind that sleighing, +and skating, and luncheon and tea, and--_you_, are not good for a busy +girl's business career. I'm going to be very practical and very frank +with you. I don't belong here except on business, and you make it so +pleasant and unbusinesslike for me that my conscience protests. You see, +if the time I now take to lunch with you, tea with you, skate, sleigh, +talk, listen, in your very engaging company is properly employed, I can +attend to yards and yards of business in town. And I'm going to. I mean +it, please," as he began to smile. + +His smile died out. He said, quietly: + +"Doesn't our friendship count for anything?" + +She looked at him; shrugged her shoulders: + +"Oh, Mr. Desboro," she said pleasantly, "does it, _really_?" + +The blue eyes were clear and beautiful, and a little grave; only the +upcurled corners of her mouth promised anything. + +The car drew up at the house; she sprang out and ran upstairs to her +room. He heard her in animated confab with Mrs. Quant for a few minutes, +then she came down in her black business gown, with narrow edges of lawn +at collar and cuffs, and the bright lock already astray on her cheek. A +white carnation was tucked into her waist; the severe black of her +dress, as always, made her cheeks and lips and golden hair more +brilliant by contrast. + +"Now," she said, "for my notes. And what are you going to do while I'm +busy?" + +"Watch you, if I may. You've heard about the proverbial cat?" + +"Care killed it, didn't it?" + +"Yes; but it had a good look at the Queen first." + +A smile touched her eyes and lips--a little wistfully. + +"You know, Mr. Desboro, that I like to waste time with you. Flatter your +vanity with that confession. And even if things were--different--but +they couldn't ever be--and I must work very hard if I'm ever going to +have any leisure in my old age. But come to the library for this last +day, and smoke as usual. And you may talk to amuse me, if you wish. +Don't mind if I'm too busy to answer your folly in kind." + +They went together to the library; she placed the mass of notes in front +of her and began to sort them--turned for a second and looked around at +him with adorable malice, then bent again to the task before her. + +"Miss Nevers!" + +"Yes?" + +"You will come to Silverwood again, won't you?" + +She wrote busily with a pencil. + +"Won't you?" + +She made some marginal notes and he looked at the charming profile in +troubled silence. + +[Illustration: "She turned leisurely.... 'Did you say anything recently, +Mr. Desboro?'"] + +About ten minutes later she turned leisurely, tucking up the errant +strand of hair with her pencil: + +"Did you say anything recently, Mr. Desboro?" + +"Out of the depths, yes. The voice in the wilderness as usual went +unheeded. I wished to explain to you how we might give up our skating +and sleighing and everything except the bare necessities--and you could +still come to Silverwood on business----" + +"What are the 'bare necessities'?" + +"Your being here is one----" + +"Answer me seriously, please." + +"Food, then. We must eat." + +She conceded that much. + +"We've got to motor to and from the station!" + +She admitted that, too. + +"Those," he pointed out, "are the bare necessities. We can give up +everything else." + +She sat looking at him, playing absently with her pencil. After a while, +she turned to her desk again, and, bending over it, began to make +meaningless marks with her pencil on the yellow pad. + +"What is the object," she said, "of trying to make me forget that I +wouldn't be here at all except on business?" + +"Do you think of that every minute?" + +"I--must." + +"It isn't necessary." + +"It is imperative, Mr. Desboro--and you know it." + +She wrote steadily for a while, strapped a bundle of notes with an +elastic band, laid it aside, and turned around, resting her arm on the +back of the chair. Blue eyes level with his, she inspected him +curiously. And, if the tension of excitement still remained, all her +high spirits and the indiscreet impulses of a gay self-confidence had +vanished. But curiosity remained--the eternal, insatiable curiosity of +the young. + +How much did this man really mean of what he said to her? What did his +liking for her signify other than the natural instinct of an idle young +man for any pretty girl? What was he going to do about it? For she +seemed to be conscious that, sooner or later, somewhere, sometime, he +would do something further about it. + +Did he mean to make love to her sometime? Was he doing it now? It +resembled the preliminaries; she recognised them--had been aware of them +almost from the very first. + +Men had made love to her before--men in her own world, men in his world. +She had learned something since her father died--not a great deal; +perhaps more from hearsay than from experience. But some unpleasant +knowledge had been acquired at first hand; two clients of her father's +had contributed, and a student, named Harroun, and an amateur of soft +paste statuettes, the Rev. Bertie Dawley. + +Innocently and wholesomely equipped to encounter evil, cool and clear +eyed mistress of herself so far, she had felt, with happy contempt, that +her fate was her own to control, and had wondered what the word +"temptation" could mean to any woman. + +What Cynthia had admitted made her a little wiser, but still +incredulous. Cold, hunger, debts, loneliness--these were not enough, as +Cynthia herself had said. Nor, after all, was Cynthia's liking for +Cairns. Which proved conclusively that woman is the arbiter of her own +destiny. + +Desboro, one knee crossed over the other, sat looking into the fire, +which burned in the same fireplace where he had recently immolated the +frivolous souvenirs of the past. + +Perhaps some gay ghost of that scented sacrifice took shape for a moment +in the curling smoke, for he suddenly frowned and passed his hand over +his eyes in boyish impatience. + +Something--the turn of his head and shoulders--the shape of them--she +did not know what--seemed to set her heart beating loudly, ridiculously, +without any apparent reason on earth. Too much surprised to be +disturbed, she laid her slim hand on her breast, then against her +throat, till her pulses grew calmer. + +Resting her chin on her arm, she gazed over her shoulder into the fire. +He had laid another log across the flames; she watched the bark catch +fire, dully conscious, now, that her ideas were becoming as +irresponsible and as reasonless as the sudden stirring of her heart had +been. + +For she was thinking how odd it would be if, like Cynthia, she too, ever +came to care about a man of Desboro's sort. She'd see to it that she +didn't; that was all. There were other men. Better still, there were to +be no men; for her mind fastidiously refused to consider the only sort +with whom she felt secure--her intellectual inferiors whose moral +worthiness bored her to extinction. + +Musing there, half turned on her chair, she saw Desboro rise, still +looking intently into the fire, and stand so, his well-made, graceful +figure, in silhouette, edged with the crimson glow. + +"What do you see in it, Mr. Desboro?" + +He turned instantly and came over to her: + +"A bath of flames would be very popular," he said, "if burning didn't +hurt. I was just thinking about it--how to invent----" + +She quoted: "'But I was thinking of a plan to dye one's whiskers +green.'" + +He said: "I suppose you think me as futile as that old man 'a-settin' on +a gate.'" + +"Your pursuits seem to be about as useful as his." + +"Why should I pursue things? I don't want 'em." + +"You are hopeless. There is pleasure even in pursuit of anything, no +matter whether you ever attain it or not. I will never attain wisdom, +but it's a pleasure to pursue it." + +"It's a pleasure even to pursue pleasure--and it's the only pleasure in +pleasure," he said, so gravely that for a moment she thought with horror +that he was trying to be precious. Then the latent glimmer in his eyes +set them laughing, and she rose and went over to the sofa and curled up +in one corner, abandoning all pretense of industry. + +"Once," she said, "I knew a poet who emitted such precious thoughts. He +was the funniest thing; he had the round, pale, ancient eyes of an +African parrot, a pasty countenance, and a derby hat resting on top of a +great bunch of colourless curly hair. And that's the way _he_ talked, +Mr. Desboro!" + +He seated himself on the other arm of the sofa: + +"Did you adore him?" + +"At first. He was a celebrity. He did write some pretty things." + +"What woke you up?" + +She blushed. + +"I thought so," observed Desboro. + +"Thought what?" + +"That he came out of his trance and made love to you." + +"How did you know? Wasn't it dreadful! And he'd always told me that he +had never experienced an emotion except when adoring the moon. He was a +very dreadful young man--perfectly horrid in his ideas--and I sent him +about his business very quickly; and I remember being a little +frightened and watching him from the window as he walked off down the +street in his soiled drab overcoat and the derby hat on his frizzly +hair, and his trousers too high on his ankles----" + +Desboro was so immensely amused at the picture she drew that her pretty +brows unbent and she smiled, too. + +"What did he want of you?" he asked. + +"I didn't fully understand at the time----" she hesitated, then, with an +angry blush: "He asked me to go to Italy with him. And he said he +couldn't marry me because he had already espoused the moon!" + +Desboro's laughter rang through the old library; and Jacqueline was not +quite certain whether she liked the way he took the matter or not. + +"I know him," said Desboro. "I've seen him about town kissing women's +hands, in company with a larger and fatter one. Isn't his name Munger?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"Certainly. And the fat one's name is Waudle. They were a hot team at +fashionable literary stunts--the Back Alley Club, you know." + +"No, I don't know." + +"Oh, it's just silly; a number of fashionable and wealthy young men and +women pin on aprons, now and then, and paint and model lumps of wet clay +in several severely bare studios over some unfragrant stables. They +proudly call it The Back Alley Club." + +"Why do you sneer at it?" + +"Because it isn't the real thing. It's a strutting ground for things +like Munger and Waudle, and all the rag-tag that is always sniffing and +snuffling at the back doors of the fine arts." + +"At least," she said, "they sniff." + +He said, good-humouredly: "Yes, and I don't even do that. Is that what +you mean?" + +She considered him: "Haven't you any profession?" + +"I'm a farmer." + +"Why aren't you busy with it, then?" + +"I have been, disastrously. There was a sickening deficit this autumn." + +She said, with pretty scorn: "I'll wager I could make your farm pay." + +He smiled lazily, and indulgently. After a moment he said: + +"So the spouse of the moon wanted you to go to Italy with him?" + +She nodded absently: "A girl meets queer men in the world." + +"Did you ever meet any others?" + +She looked up listlessly: "Yes, several." + +"As funny as the poet?" + +"If you call him funny." + +"I wonder who they were," he mused. + +"Did you ever hear of the Reverend Bertie Dawley?" + +"No." + +"He was one." + +"_That_ kind?" + +"Oh, yes. He collects soft paste figurines; he was a client of father's; +but I found very soon that I couldn't go near him. He has a wife and +children, too, and he keeps sending his wife to call on me. You know +he's a good-looking young man, too, and I liked him; but I never +dreamed----" + +"Sure," he said, disgusted at his own sex--with the exception of +himself. + +"That seems to be the way of it," she said thoughtfully. "You can't be +friends with men; they all annoy you sooner or later in one way or +another!" + +"Annoy you? Do you mean make love to you?" + +"Yes." + +"_I_ don't; do I?" + +She bent her head and sat playing with the petals of the white carnation +drooping on her breast. + +"No," she said calmly. "You don't annoy me." + +"Would it seriously annoy you if I did make love to you some day?" he +asked, lightly. + +Instinct was whispering hurriedly to her: "Here it is at last. Do +something about it, and do it quick!" She waited until her heart beat +more regularly, then: + +"You couldn't annoy--make love--to a girl you really don't care for. +That is very simple, isn't it?" + +"Suppose I did care for you." + +She looked up at him with troubled eyes, then lowered them to the +blossom from which her fingers were detaching petal after petal. + +"If you did really care, you wouldn't tell me, Mr. Desboro." + +"Why not?" + +"Because it would not be fair to me." A flush of anger--or she thought +it was, brightened her cheeks. "This is nonsense," she said abruptly. +"And I'll tell you another thing; I can't come here again. You know I +can't. We talk foolishness--don't you know it? And there's another +reason, anyway." + +"What reason?" + +"The _real_ reason," she said, clenching both hands. "You know what it +is and so do I--and--and I'm tired of pretending that the truth isn't +true." + +"What is the truth?" + +She had turned her back on him and was staring out of the windows into +the mist. + +"The truth is," she answered deliberately, "that you and I can not be +friends." + +"Why?" + +"Because we can't be! Because--men are always men. There isn't any way +for men and women to be friends. Forgive me for saying it. But it is +quite true. A business woman in your employment--can't forget that a +real friendship with you is impossible. That is why, from the very +beginning, I wanted it to be purely a matter of business between us. I +didn't really wish to skate with you, or do anything of that kind with +you. I'd rather not lunch with you; I--I had rather you drew the +line--and let me draw it clearly, cleanly, and without mistake--as I +draw it between myself and my employees. If you wish, I can continue to +come here on that basis until my work is finished. Otherwise, I shall +not come again." + +Her back was still toward him. + +"Very well," he said, bluntly. + +She heard him rise and walk toward the door; sat listening without +turning her head, already regretting what she had said. And now she +became conscious that her honesty with herself and with him had been a +mistake, entailing humiliation for her--the humiliation of letting him +understand that she couldn't afford to care for him, and that she did +already. She had thought of him first, and of herself last--had conceded +a hopeless situation in order that her decision might not hurt his +vanity. + +It had been a bad mistake. And now he might be thinking that she had +tried to force him into an attitude toward herself which she could not +expect, or--God knew what he might be thinking. + +Dismayed and uncertain, she stood up nervously as he reëntered the room +and came toward her, holding out his hand. + +"I'm going to town," he said pleasantly. "I won't bother you any more. +Remain; come and go as you like without further fear of my annoying you. +The servants are properly instructed. They will be at your orders. I'm +sorry--I meant to be more agreeable. Good-bye, Miss Nevers." + +She laid her hand in his, lifelessly, then withdrew it. Dumb, dreadfully +confused, she looked up at him; then, as he turned coolly away, an +inarticulate sound of protest escaped her lips. He halted and turned +around. + +"It isn't fair--what you are doing--Mr. Desboro." + +"What else is there to do?" + +"Why do you ask me? Why must the burden of decision always rest with +me?" + +"But my decision is that I had better go. I can't remain here +without--annoying you." + +"Why can't you remain here as my employer? Why can't we enjoy +matter-of-fact business relations? I ask no more than that--I want no +more. I am afraid you think I do expect more--that I expect friendship. +It is impossible, unsuitable--and I don't even wish for it----" + +"I do," he said. + +"How can we be friends, from a social standpoint? There is nothing to +build on, no foundation--nothing for friendship to subsist on----" + +"Could you and I meet anywhere in the world and become _less_ than +friends?" he asked. "Tell me honestly. It is impossible, and you and I +both know it." + +And, as she made no reply: "Friends--more than friends, possibly; never +less. And you know it, and so do I," he said under his breath. + +She turned sharply toward the window and looked out across the foggy +hills. + +"If that is what you believe, Mr. Desboro, perhaps you had better go." + +"Do you send me?" + +"Always the decision seems to lie with me. Why do you not decide for +yourself?" + +"I will; and for you, too, if you will let me relieve you of the +burden." + +"I can carry my own burdens." + +Her back was still toward him. After a moment she rested her head +against the curtained embrasure, as though tired. + +He hesitated; there were good impulses in him, but he went over to her, +and scarcely meaning to, put one arm lightly around her waist. + +She laid her hands over her face, standing so, golden head lowered and +her heart so violent that she could scarcely breathe. + +"Jacqueline." + +A scarcely perceptible movement of her head, in sign that she listened. + +"Are we going to let anything frighten us?" He had not meant to say +that, either. He was adrift, knew it, and meant to drop anchor in a +moment. "Tell me honestly," he added, "don't you want us to be friends?" + +She said, her hands still over her face: + +"I didn't know how much I wanted it. I don't see, even now, how it can +be. Your own friends are different. But I'll try--if you wish it." + +"I do wish it. Why do you think my friends are so different from you? +Because some happen to be fashionable and wealthy and idle? Besides, a +man has many different kinds of friends----" + +She thought to herself: "But he never forgets to distinguish between +them. And here it is at last--almost. And I--I do care for him! And here +I am--like Cynthia--asking myself to pardon him." + +She looked up at him out of her hands, a little pale, then down at his +arm, resting loosely around her waist. + +"Don't hold me so, please," she said, in a low voice. + +"Of course not." But instead he merely took her slender hands between +his own, which were not very steady, and looked her straight in the +eyes. Such men can do it, somehow. Besides, he really meant to control +himself and cast anchor in a moment or two. + +"Will you trust me with your friendship?" he said. + +"I--seem to be doing it. I don't exactly understand what I am doing. +Would you answer me one question?" + +"If I can, Jacqueline." + +"Then, friendship _is_ possible between a man and a woman, isn't it?" +she insisted wistfully. + +"I don't know." + +"What! Why don't you know? It's merely a matter of mutual interest and +respect, isn't it?" + +"I've heard so." + +"Then isn't a friendship between us possible without anything +threatening to spoil it? Isn't it to be just a matter of enjoying +together what interests each? Isn't it? Because I don't mind waiving +social conditions that can't be helped, and conventions that we simply +can't observe." + +"Yes, you wonderful girl," he said under his breath, meaning to anchor +at once. But he drifted on. + +"You know," she said, forcing a little laugh, "I _am_ rather wonderful, +to be so honest with a man like you. There's so much about you that I +don't care for." + +He laughed, enchanted, still retaining her hands between his own, the +palms joined together, flat. + +"You're so wonderful," he said, "that you make the most wonderful +masterpiece in the Desboro collection look like a forgery." + +She strove to speak lightly again: "Even the gilding on my hair is real. +You didn't think so once, did you?" + +"You're all real. You are the most real thing I've ever seen in the +world!" + +She tried to laugh: "You mustn't believe that I've never before been +real when I've been with you. And I may not be real again, for a long +time. Make the most of this moment of expansive honesty, Mr. Desboro. +I'll remember presently that you are an hereditary enemy." + +"Have I ever acted that part?" + +"Not toward me." + +He reddened: "Toward whom?" + +"Oh," she said, with sudden impatience, "do you suppose I have any +illusions concerning the sort of man you are? But what do I care, as +long as you are nice to me?" she laughed, more confidently. "Men!" she +repeated. "I know something about them! And, knowing them, also, I +nevertheless mean to make a friend of one of them. Do you think I'll +succeed?" + +He smiled, then bent lightly and kissed her joined hands. + +"Luncheon is served," came the emotionless voice of Farris from the +doorway. Their hands fell apart; Jacqueline blushed to her hair and gave +Desboro a lovely, abashed look. + +She need not have been disturbed. Farris had seen such things before. + + * * * * * + +That evening, Desboro went back to New York with her and took her to her +own door in a taxicab. + +"Are you quite sure you can't dine with me?" he asked again, as they +lingered on her doorstep. + +"I could--but----" + +"But you won't!" + +One of her hands lay lightly on the knob of the partly open door, and +she stood so, resting and looking down the dark street toward the +distant glare of electricity where Broadway crossed at right angles. + +"We have been together all day, Mr. Desboro. I'd rather not dine with +you--yet." + +"Are you going to dine all alone up there?" glancing aloft at the +lighted windows above the dusky old shop. + +"Yes. Besides, you and I have wasted so much time to-day that I shall go +down stairs to the office and do a little work after dinner. You see a +girl always has to pay for her transgressions." + +"I'm terribly sorry," he said contritely. "Don't work to-night!" + +"Don't be sorry. I've really enjoyed to-day's laziness. Only it mustn't +be like this to-morrow. And anyway, I knew I'd have to make it up +to-night." + +"I'm terribly sorry," he said again, almost tenderly. + +"But you mustn't be, Mr. Desboro. It was worth it----" + +He looked up, surprised, flushing with emotion; and the quick colour in +her cheeks responded. They remained very still, and confused, and +silent, as fire answered fire; suddenly aware how fast they had been +drifting. + +She turned, nervously, pushed open the door, and entered the vestibule; +he held the door ajar for her while she fitted her key with unsteady +fingers. + +"So--thank you," she said, half turning around, "but I won't dine with +you--to-night." + +"Then, perhaps, to-morrow----" + +"Don't come into town with me to-morrow, Mr. Desboro." + +"I'm coming in anyway." + +"Why?" + +"There's an affair--a kind of a dance. There are always plenty of things +to take me into town in the evenings." + +"Is that why you came in to-night?" She knew she should not have said +it. + +He hesitated, then, with a laugh: "I came in to town because it gave me +an hour longer with you. Are you going to send me away now?" And her +folly was answered in kind. + +She said, confused and trying to smile: "You say things that you don't +mean. Evening, for us, must always mean 'good-night.'" + +"Why, Jacqueline?" + +"Because. Also, it is my hour of freedom. You wouldn't take that away +from me, would you?" + +"What do you do in the evenings?" + +"Sew, read, study, attend to the thousand wretched little details which +concern my small household. And, sometimes, when I have wasted the day, +I make it up at night. Because, whether I have enjoyed it or not, this +day _has_ been wasted." + +"But sometimes you dine out and go to the theatre and to dances and +things?" + +"Yes," she said gravely. "But you know there is no meeting ground there +for us, don't you?" + +"Couldn't you ask me to something?" + +"Yes--I could. But you wouldn't care for the people. You know it. They +are not like the people to whom you are accustomed. They would only bore +you." + +"So do many people I know." + +"Not in the same way. Why do you ask me? You know it is better not." She +added smilingly: "There is neither wealth nor fashion nor intellectual +nor social distinction to be expected among my friends----" + +She hesitated, and added quietly: "You understand that I am not +criticising them. I am merely explaining them to you. Otherwise, I'd ask +you to dinner with a few people--I can only have four at a time, my +dining room is so small----" + +"Ask me, Jacqueline!" he insisted. + +She shook her head; but he continued to coax and argue until she had +half promised. And now she stood, facing him irresolutely, conscious of +the steady drift that was forcing her into uncharted channels with this +persuasive pilot who seemed to know no more of what lay ahead of them +than did she. + +But there was to be no common destination; she understood that. Sooner +or later she must turn back toward the harbour they had left so +irresponsibly together, her brief voyage over, her last adventure with +this man ended for all time. + +And now, as the burden of decision still seemed to rest upon her, she +offered him her hand, saying good-night; and he took it once more and +held it between both of his. Instantly the impending constraint closed +in upon them; his face became grave, hers serious, almost apprehensive. + +"You have--have made me very happy," he said. "Do you know it, +Jacqueline?" + +"Yes." + +A curious lassitude was invading her; she leaned sideways against the +door frame, as though tired, and stood so, one hand abandoned to him, +gazing into the lamp-lit street. + +"Good-night, dear," he whispered. + +"Good-night." + +She still gazed into the lamp-lit darkness beyond him, her hand limp in +his; and he saw her blue eyes, heavy lidded and dreamy, and the strand +of hair curling gold against her cheek. + +When he kissed her, she dropped her head, covering her face with her +forearm, not otherwise stirring--as though the magic pageant of her fate +which had been gathering for two weeks had begun to move at last, +passing vision-like through her mind with a muffled uproar--sweeping on, +on, brilliant, disarrayed, timed by the deafening beating of her heart. + +Dully she realised that it was here at last--all that she had +dreaded--if dread be partly made of hope! + +"Are you crying?" he said, unsteadily. + +She lifted her face from her arm, like a dazed child awaking. + +"You darling," he whispered. + +Eyes remote, she stood watching unseen things in the darkness beyond +him. + +"Must I go, Jacqueline?" + +"Yes." + +"You are very tired, aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"You won't sit up and work, will you?" + +"No." + +"Will you go straight to bed?" + +She nodded slowly, yielding to him as he drew her into his arms. + +"To-morrow, then?" he asked under his breath. + +"Yes." + +"And the next day, and the next, and next, and--always, Jacqueline?" he +demanded, almost fiercely. + +After a moment she slowly turned her head and looked at him. There was +no answer, and no question in her gaze, only the still, expressionless +clairvoyance of a soul that sees but does not heed. + +There was no misunderstanding in her eyes, nothing wistful, nothing +afraid or hurt--nothing of doubt. What had happened to others in the +world was happening now to her. She understood it; that was all--as +though the millions of her sisters who had passed that way had left to +her the dread legacy of familiarity with the smooth, wide path they had +trodden since time began on earth. And here it was, at last! Her own +calmness surprised her. + +He detained her for another moment in a swift embrace; inert, +unresponsive, she stood looking down at the crushed gardenia in his +buttonhole, dully conscious of being bruised. Then he let her go; her +hand fell from his arm; she turned and faced the familiar stairs and +mounted them. + +Dinner waited for her; whether she ate or not, she could not afterward +remember. About eleven o'clock, she rose wearily from the bed where she +had been lying, and began to undress. + + * * * * * + +As for Desboro, he had gone straight to his rooms very much excited and +unbalanced by the emotions of the moment. + +He was a man not easily moved to genuine expression. Having acquired +certain sorts of worldly wisdom in a career more or less erratic, +experience had left him unconvinced and even cynical--or he thought it +had. + +But now, for the moment, all that lay latent in him of that impetuous +and heedless vigour which may become strength, if properly directed, was +awakening. Every recurring memory of her had already begun to tamper +with his self-control; for the emotions of the moments just ended had +been confusingly real; and, whatever they were arousing in him, now +clamoured for some sort of expression. + +The very thought of her, now, began to act on him like some freshening +perfume alternately stimulating and enervating. He made the effort again +and again, and could not put her from his mind, could not forget the +lowered head and the slender, yielding grace of her, and her fragrance, +and her silence. + +Dressing in his rooms, growing more restless every moment, he began to +walk the floor like some tormented thing that seeks alleviation in +purposeless activity. + +He said, half aloud, to himself: + +"I can't go on this way. This is damn foolish! I've got to find out +where it's landing me. It will land her, too--somewhere. I'd better keep +away from her, go off somewhere, get out, stop seeing her, stop +remembering her!--if she's what I think she is." + +Scowling, he went to the window and jerked aside the curtain. Across the +street, the Olympian Club sparkled with electricity. + +"Good Lord!" he muttered. "What a tempest in a teapot! What the devil's +the matter with me? Can't I kiss a girl now and then and keep my +senses?" + +It seemed that he couldn't, in the present instance, for after he had +bitten the amber stem of his pipe clean through, he threw the bowl into +the fireplace. It had taken him two years to colour it. + +"Idiot!" he said aloud. "What are you sorry about? You know damn well +there are only two kinds of women, and it's up to them what sort they +are--not up to any man who ever lived! What are you sorry for? For her?" + +He stared across the street at the Olympian Club. He was expected there. + +"If she only wasn't so--so expressionless and--silent about it. It's +like killing something that lets you do it. That's a crazy thing to +think of!" + +Suddenly he found he had a fight on his hands. He had never had one like +it; didn't know exactly what to do, except to repeat over and over: + +"It isn't square--it isn't square. She knows it, too. She's frightened. +She knows it isn't square. There's nothing ahead but hell to pay! She +knows it. And she doesn't defend herself. There _are_ only two kinds of +women. It _is_ up to them, too. But it's like killing something that +lets you kill it. Good God! What a damn fool I am!" + +Later he repeated it. Later still he found himself leaning over his +desk, groping blindly about for a pen, and cursing breathlessly as +though he had not a moment to lose. + +He wrote: + + "DEAR LITTLE JACQUELINE: I'm not going to see you again. Where the + fool courage to write this comes from I don't know. But you will + now learn that there is nothing to me after all--not even enough of + positive and negative to make me worth forgiveness. And so I let it + go at that. Good-bye. + + "DESBORO." + +In the same half blind, half dazed way, cursing something all the while, +he managed to seal, stamp, and direct the letter, and get himself out of +the house with it. + +A club servant at the Olympian mailed it; he continued on his way to the +dining room, and stumbled into a chair between Cairns and Reggie +Ledyard, who were feasting noisily and unwisely with Stuyvesant Van +Alstyne; and the racket and confusion seemed to help him. He was +conscious of laughing and talking and drinking a great deal--conscious, +too, of the annoyance of other men at other tables. Finally, one of the +governors came over and very pleasantly told him to shut up or go +elsewhere. + +They all went, with cheerfulness unimpaired by gubernatorial +admonition. There was a large dinner dance for debutantes at the +Barkley's. This function they deigned to decorate with their presence +for a while, Cairns and Van Alstyne behaving well enough, considering +the manners of the times; Desboro, a dull fire smouldering in his veins, +wandered about, haunted by a ghost whose soft breath touched his cheek. + +His manners were good when he chose; they were always faultless when he +was drunk. Perfectly steady on his legs, very pale, and a trifle over +polite, the drunker he was the more courtly he invariably became, +measuredly graceful, in speech reticent. Only his pallor and the lines +about his mouth betrayed the tension. + +Later, one or two men familiar with the house strolled into the distant +billiard room and discovered him standing there looking blankly into +space. + +Ledyard, bad tempered when he had dined too well, announced that he had +had enough of that debutante party: + +"Look at 'em," he said to Desboro. "Horrible little fluffs just out of +the incubator--with their silly brains and rotten manners, and their +'Bunny Hugs' and 'Turkey Trots' and 'Dying Chickens,' and the champagne +flaming in their baby cheeks! Why, their mothers are letting 'em dance +like _filles de Brasserie_! Men used to know where to go for that sort +of thing----" + +Cairns, balancing gravely on heels and toes, waved one hand +comprehensively. + +"Problem was," he said, "how to keep the young at home. Bunny Hug solves +it. See? All the comforts of the Tenderloin at home. Tha's +'splaination." + +"Come on to supper," said Ledyard. "Your Blue Girl will be there, Jim." + +"By all means," said Desboro courteously. "My car is entirely at your +disposal." But he made no movement. + +"Come to supper," insisted Ledyard. + +"Commer supper," echoed Cairns gravely. "Whazzer mazzer? Commer supper!" + +"Nothing," said Desboro, "could give me greater pleasure." He rose, +bowed courteously to Ledyard, included Cairns in a graceful salute, and +reseated himself. + +Ledyard lost his temper and began to shout at him. + +"I beg your pardon for my inexcusable absent-mindedness," said Desboro, +getting slowly onto his feet once more. With graceful precision, he made +his way to his hostess and took faultless leave of her, Cairns and +Ledyard attempting vainly to imitate his poise, urbanity and +self-possession. + +The icy air of the street did Cairns good and aided Ledyard. So they got +themselves out across the sidewalk and ultimately into Desboro's town +car, which was waiting, as usual. + +"Little bunny-hugging, bread-and-butter beasts," muttered Ledyard to +himself. "Lord! Don't they want us to draw the line between them and the +sort we're to meet at supper?" + +"They're jus' fools," said Cairns. "No harm in 'em! And I'm not going to +supper. I'll take you there an' go'me!" + +"What's the matter with _you_?" demanded Ledyard. + +"No--I'm through, that's all. You 'sult nice li'l debutantes. Rotten bad +taste. Nice li'l debbys." + +"Come on, you jinx!" + +"That girl in blue. Will she be there--the one who does the lute solo in +'The Maid of Shiraz'?" + +"Yes, but she's crazy about Desboro." + +"I waive all pretension to the charming condescension of that very +lovely young lady, and cheerfully concede your claims," said Desboro, +raising his hat and wrecking it against the roof of the automobile. + +"As you wish, dear friend. But why so suddenly the solitary recluse?" + +"A personal reason, I assure you." + +"I see," remarked Ledyard. "And what may be the name and quality of this +personal reason? And is she a blonde?" + +Desboro shrugged his polite impatience. But when the others got out at +the Santa Regina he followed. Cairns was inclined to shed a few tears +over Ledyard's insults to the "debbys." + +"Sure," said the latter, soothingly. "The brimming beaker for you, dear +friend, and it will pass away. Hark! I hear the fairy feetsteps of a +houri!" as they landed from the elevator and encountered a group of +laughing, bright-eyed young girls in the hallway, seeking the private +supper room. + +One of them was certainly the girl in blue. The others appeared to +Desboro as merely numerous and, later, exceedingly noisy. But noise and +movement seemed to make endurable the dull pain thudding ceaselessly in +his heart. Music and roses, flushed faces, the ringing harmony of +crystal and silver, and the gaiety _à diable_ of the girl beside him +would ease it--_must_ ease it, somehow. For it had to be first eased, +then killed. There was no sense, no reason, no excuse for going on this +way--enduring such a hurt. And just at present the remedy seemed to lie +in a gay uproar and many brilliant lights, and in the tinted lips of the +girl beside him, babbling nonsense while her dark eyes laughed, +promising all they laughed at--if he cared to ask an answer to the +riddle. + +But he never asked it. + +Later somebody offered a toast to Desboro, but when they looked around +for him in the uproar, glasses aloft, he had disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +There was no acknowledgment of his note to Jacqueline the day following; +none the next day, or the next. It was only when telephoning to +Silverwood he learned by chance from Mrs. Quant that Jacqueline had been +at the house every day as usual, busy in the armoury with the work that +took her there. + +He had fully expected that she would send a substitute; had assumed that +she would not wish to return and take the chance of his being there. + +What she had thought of his note to her, what she might be thinking of +him, had made him so miserable that even the unwisdom of excess could +not dull the pain of it or subdue the restless passion ever menacing him +with a shameful repudiation of the words he had written her. He had +fought one weakness with another, and there was no strength in him now. +He knew it, but stood on guard. + +For he knew, too, in his heart that he had nothing to offer her except a +sentiment which, in the history of man, has never been anything except +temporary. With it, of course, and part of it, was a gentler +inclination--love, probably, of one sort or another--with it went also +genuine admiration and intellectual interest, and sympathy, and +tenderness of some unanalysed kind. + +But he knew that he had no intention of marrying anybody--never, at +least, of marrying out of his own social environment. That he +understood fully; had wit and honesty enough to admit to himself. And so +there was no way--nothing, now, anyway. He had settled that +definitely--settled it for her and for himself, unrequested; settled, in +fact, everything except how to escape the aftermath of restless pain for +which there seemed to be no remedy so far--not even the professional +services of old Doctor Time. However, it had been only three days--three +sedative pills from the old gentleman's inexhaustible supply. It is the +regularity of taking it, more than the medicine itself which cures. + +On the fourth day, he emerged from the unhappy seclusion of his rooms +and ventured into the Olympian Club, where he deliberately attempted to +anæsthetise his badly battered senses. But he couldn't. Cairns found him +there, sitting alone in the library--it was not an intellectual +club--and saw what Desboro had been doing to himself by the white +tensity of his features. + +"Look here," he said. "If there's really anything the matter with you, +why don't you go into business and forget it? You can't fool real +trouble with what you buy in bottles!" + +"What business shall I go into?" asked Desboro, unoffended. + +"Stocks or literature. All the ginks who can't do anything else go into +stocks or literature." + +Desboro waved away the alternatives with amiable urbanity. + +"Then run for your farms and grow things for market. You could do that, +couldn't you? Even a Dutchess County millionaire can run a milk-route." + +"I don't desire to grow milk," explained Desboro pleasantly. + +Cairns regarded him with a grin of anxiety. + +"You're jingled," he concluded. "That is, you are as jingled as _you_ +ever get. Why?" + +"No reason, thanks." + +"It isn't some girl, is it? _You_ never take them seriously. All the +same, _is_ it?" + +Desboro smiled: "Do you think it's likely, dear friend?" + +"No, I don't. But whatever you're worrying about isn't improving your +personal beauty. Since you hit this hamlet you've been on one continuous +tootlebat. Why don't you go back to Westchester and hoe potatoes?" + +"One doesn't hoe them in January, you know," said Desboro, always +deprecatingly polite. "Please cease to trouble yourself about me. I'm +quite all right, thanks." + +"You've resigned from a lot of clubs and things, I hear." + +"Admirably reported, dear friend, and perfectly true." + +"Why?" + +"Motives of economy; nothing more serious, John." + +"You're not in any financial trouble, are you?" + +"I--ah--possibly have been a trifle indiscreet in my expenditures--a +little unfortunate in my investments, perhaps. You are very kind to ask +me. It may afford you some gratification to learn that eventually I +anticipate an agreeable return to affluence." + +Cairns laughed: "You _are_ jingled all right," he said. "I recognise +the urbane symptoms of your Desboro ancestors." + +"You flatter them and me," said Desboro, bowing. "They were the limit, +and I'm nearing it." + +"Pardon! You have arrived, sir," said Cairns, returning the salute with +exaggerated gravity. + +They parted with pomp and circumstance, Desboro to saunter back to his +rooms and lie limply in his arm chair beside an empty fireplace until +sleep overcame him where he sat. And he looked very young, and white, +and somewhat battered as he lay there in the fading winter daylight. + +The ringing racket of his telephone bell aroused him in total darkness. +Still confused by sleep, he groped for the electric light switch, could +not find it; but presently his unsteady hand encountered the telephone, +and he unhooked the receiver and set it to his ear. + +At first his imagination lied to him, and he thought it was Jacqueline's +distant voice, though he knew in his heart it could not be. + +"Jim," repeated the voice, "what are you doing this evening?" + +"Nothing. I was asleep. It's you, Elena, isn't it?" + +"Of course. To whom are you in the habit of talking every evening at +seven by special request?" + +"I didn't know it was seven." + +"That's flattering to me. Listen, Jim, I'm coming to see you." + +"I've told you a thousand times it can't be done----" + +"Do you mean that no woman has ever been in your apartments?" + +"You can't come," he repeated obstinately. "If you do, it ends my +interest in your various sorrows. I mean it, Elena." + +She laughed: "I only wanted to be sure that you are still afraid of +caring too much for me. Somebody told me a very horrid thing about you. +It was probably a lie--as long as you are still afraid of me." + +He closed his eyes patiently and leaned his elbow on the desk, waiting +for her to go on or to ring off. + +"Was it a lie, Jim?" + +"Was what a lie?" + +"That you are entertaining a very pretty girl at Silverwood +House--unchaperoned?" + +"Do you think it likely?" + +"Why not? They say you've done it before." + +"Nobody has been there except on business. And, after all, you know, it +doesn't----" + +"Yes, it does concern me! Oh, Jim, _are_ you being horrid--when I'm so +unhappy and helpless----" + +"Be careful what you say over the wire!" + +"I don't care who hears me. If you mean anybody in your apartment house, +they know my voice already. I want to see you, Jim----" + +"No!" + +"You said you'd be friendly to me!" + +"I am--by keeping away from you." + +"Do you mean that I am never to see you at all?" + +"You know well enough that it isn't best, under the circumstances." + +"You could come here if you only would. He is not in town to-night----" + +"Confound it, do you think I'm that sort?" + +"I think you are very absurd and not very consistent, considering the +things that they say you are not too fastidious to do----" + +"Will you please be a little more reticent over the telephone!" + +"Then take me out to dinner somewhere, where we _can_ talk!" + +"I'm sorry, but it won't do." + +"I thought you'd say that. Very well, then, listen: they are singing +_Ariane_ to-night; it's an 8:15 curtain. I'll be in the Barkley's box +very early; nobody else will arrive before nine. Will you come to me at +eight?" + +"Yes, I'll do that for a moment." + +"Thank you, dear. I just want to be happy for a few minutes. You don't +mind, do you?" + +"It will be very jolly," he said vaguely. + + * * * * * + +The galleries were already filling, but there were very few people in +the orchestra and nobody at all to be seen in the boxes when Desboro +paused before a door marked with the Barkleys' name. After a second's +hesitation, he turned the knob, stepped in, and found Mrs. Clydesdale +already seated in the tiny foyer, under the hanging shadow of her ermine +coat--a charming and youthful figure, eyes and cheeks bright with +trepidation and excitement. + +"What the dickens do you suppose prompted Mrs. Hammerton to arrive at +such an hour?" she said, extending her hand to Desboro. "That very +wicked old cat got out of somebody's car just as I did, and I could feel +her beady eyes boring into my back all the way up the staircase." + +"Do you mean Aunt Hannah?" + +"Yes, I do! What does she mean by coming here at such an unearthly +hour? Don't go out into the box, Jim. She can see you from the +orchestra. I'll wager that her opera glasses have been sweeping the +house every second since she saw me!" + +"If she sees me she won't talk," he said, coolly. "I'm one of her +exempts----" + +"Wait, Jim! What are you going to do?" + +"Let her see us both. I tell you she never talks about me, or anybody +with whom I happen to be. It's the best way to avoid gossip, Elena----" + +"I don't want to risk it, Jim! Please don't! I'm in abject terror of +that woman----" + +But Desboro had already stepped out to the box, and his keen, amused +eyes very soon discovered the levelled glasses of Mrs. Hammerton. + +"Come here, Elena!" + +"Had I better?" + +"Certainly. I want her to see you. That's it! That's enough. She won't +say a word about you now." + +Mrs. Clydesdale shrank back into the dim, rosy half-light of the box; +Desboro looked down at Mrs. Hammerton and smiled; then rejoined his +flushed companion. + +"Don't worry; Aunt Hannah's fangs are extracted for this evening. Elena, +you are looking pretty enough to endanger the record of an aged saint! +There goes that meaningless overture! What is it you have to say to me?" + +"Why are you so brusque with me, Jim?" + +"I'm not. But I don't want the Barkleys and their guests to find us here +together." + +"Betty knows I care for you----" + +"Oh, Lord!" he said impatiently. "You always did care for anything that +is just out of reach when you stand on tip-toe. You always were that +way, Elena. When we were free to see each other you would have none of +me." + +She was looking down while he spoke, smoothing one silken knee with her +white-gloved hand. After a moment, she lifted her head. To his surprise, +her eyes were brilliant with unshed tears. + +"You don't love me any more, do you, Jim?" + +"I--I have--it is about as it always will be with me. Circumstances have +altered things." + +"_Is_ that all?" + +He thought for a moment, and his eyes grew sombre. + +"Jim! Are you going to marry somebody?" she said suddenly. + +He looked up with a startled laugh, not entirely agreeable. + +"Marry? No." + +"Is there any girl you want to marry?" + +"No. God forbid!" + +"Why do you say that? Is it because of what you know about +marriages--like mine?" + +"Probably. And then some." + +"There are happy ones." + +"Yes, I've read about them." + +"But there really are, Jim." + +"Mention one." + +She mentioned several among people both knew. He smiled. Then she said, +wearily: + +"There are plenty of decent people and decent marriages in the world. +The people we play with are no good. It's only restlessness, idleness, +and discontent that kills everything among people of our sort. I know +I'm that way, too. But I don't believe I would be if I had married you." + +"You are mistaken." + +"Why? Don't you believe any marriage can be happy?" + +"Elena, have you ever heard of a honeymoon that lasts? Do you know how +long any two people can endure each other without merciful assistance +from a third? Don't you know that, sooner or later, any two people ever +born are certain to talk each other out--pump each other dry--love each +other to satiation--and ultimately recoil, each into the mysterious +seclusion of its own individuality, from whence it emerged temporarily +in order that the human race might not perish from the earth!" + +"What miserable lesson have you learned to teach you such a creed?" she +asked. "I tell you the world is full of happy marriages--full of +honoured husbands and beloved wives, and children worshipped and +adored----" + +"Children, yes, they come the nearest to making the conventional +contract endurable. I wish to God you had some!" + +"Jim!" + +He said, almost savagely: "If you _can_, and _don't_, you'll make a hell +for yourself with any man, sooner or later--mark my words! And it isn't +worth while to enact the hypocrisy of marriage with nothing more than +legal license in view! Why bother with priest or clergyman? That +contract won't last. And it's less trouble not to make one at all than +to go West and break one." + +"Do you know you are talking very horridly to me?" she said. + +"Yes--I suppose I am. I've got to be going now, anyway----" + +As he spoke, the glittering house became dark; the curtain opened upon a +dim scene of shadowy splendour, into which, exquisite and bewitchingly +immortal as any goddess in the heavenly galaxy, glided Farrar, in the +shimmering panoply of _Ariane_. + +[Illustration: "Desboro stood staring down at the magic picture. Mrs. +Clydesdale, too, had risen"] + +Desboro stood staring down at the magic picture. Mrs. Clydesdale, too, +had risen. Below them the beauty of Farrar's matchless voice possessed +the vast obscurity, searching the darkness like a ray of crystal light. +One by one the stone crypts opened, disclosing their tinted waterfalls +of jewels. + +"I've got to go," he whispered. "Your people will be arriving." + +They moved silently to the door. + +"Jim?" + +"Yes." + +"There _is_ no other woman; is there?" + +"Not now." + +"Oh! _Was_ there?" + +"There might have been." + +"You mean--to--to marry?" + +"No." + +"Then--I suppose I can't help _that_ sort. Men are--that way. Was it +that girl at Silverwood?" + +"No," he said, lying. + +"Oh! Who was that girl at Silverwood?" + +"A business acquaintance." + +"I hear she is unusually pretty." + +"Yes, very." + +"You found it necessary to be at Silverwood when she was there?" + +"Once or twice." + +"It is no longer necessary?" + +"No longer necessary." + +"So you won't see her again?" + +"No." + +"I'm glad. It hurt, Jim. Some people I know at Willow Lake saw her. They +said she was unusually beautiful." + +"Elena," he said, "will you kindly come to your senses? I'm not going to +marry anybody; but that doesn't concern you. I advise you to attend to +your own life's business--which is to have children and bring them up +more decently than the present generation are being brought up in this +fool of a town! If nothing else will make your husband endurable, +children will come nearest to it----" + +"Jim--please----" + +"For heaven's sake, don't cry!" he whispered. + +"I--won't. Dear, don't you realise that you are all I have in the +world----" + +"We haven't got each other, I tell you, and we're not going to have each +other----" + +"Yes--but don't take anybody else--marry anyone----" + +"I won't. Control yourself!" + +"Promise me!" + +"Yes, I do. Go forward into the box; those people will be arriving----" + +"Do you promise?" + +"Yes, if you want me to. Go forward; nobody can see you in the dark. +Good-bye----" + +"Good-bye, dear. And thank you----" + +He coolly ignored the upturned face; she caught his hand in a flash of +impatient passion, then, with a whispered word, turned and went forward, +mistress of herself again, to sit there for an hour or two and witness a +mystery that has haunted the human heart for aeons, unexpressed. + +On the fifth day, Desboro remained indoors and wrote business letters +until late in the afternoon. + +Toward evening he telephoned to Mrs. Quant to find out whether +everything was being done to render Miss Nevers's daily sojourn at +Silverwood House agreeable. + +He learned that everything was being done, that the young lady in +question had just departed for New York, and, furthermore, that she had +inquired of Mrs. Quant whether Mr. Desboro was not coming soon to +Silverwood, desiring to be informed because she had one or two business +matters on which to consult him. + +"Hold the wire," he said, and left it for a few moments' swift pacing to +and fro. Then he came again to the telephone. + +"Ask Miss Nevers to be kind enough to write me about the matters she has +in mind, because I can not leave town at present." + +"Yes, Mr. James. Are you well, sir?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Thank you, sir. If you feel chilly like at night----" + +"But I don't. Good-night!" + +He dressed, dined at the club, and remained there reading the papers +until he had enough of their complacent ignorance. Then he went home, +still doggedly refusing to attempt to analyse the indirect message from +Jacqueline. + +If it had any significance other than its apparent purport, he grimly +refused to consider even such a possibility. And, deadly weary at last, +he fell asleep and slept until late in the morning. + +It was snowing hard when he awoke. His ablutions ended, he rang for +breakfast. On his tray was a note from the girl in blue; he read it and +dropped it into his pocket, remembering the fireplace sacrifice of a few +days ago at Silverwood, and realising that such frivolous souvenirs were +beginning to accumulate again. + +He breakfasted without interest, unfolded the morning paper, glanced +over the headlines, and saw that there was a little more murder, +divorce, and boot-licking than he cared for, laid it aside, and lighted +a cigarette. As he dropped the burnt match on the tray, he noticed under +it another letter which he had overlooked among the bills and +advertisements composing the bulk of the morning mail. + +For a little while he held the envelope in his hand, not looking at it; +then, with careless deliberation, he cut it open, using a paper knife, +and drew out the letter. As he slowly opened it his hands shook in spite +of him. + + "MY DEAR MR. DESBORO: I telephoned Mrs. Quant last night and + learned that she had given you my message over the wire only a few + minutes before; and that you had sent word you could not come to + Silverwood, but that I might communicate with you by letter. + + "This is what I had to say to you: There is a suit of armour here + which is in a very bad condition. It will be expensive to have it + repaired by a good armourer. Did you wish to include it in the + sale as it is, or have it repaired? It is No. 41 in the old list; + No. 69 in my catalogue, now almost completed and ready for the + printer. It is that rather unusual suit of black plate-mail, + called 'Brigandine Armour,' a XV century suit from Aragon; and the + quilted under-jacket has been ruined by moths and has gone + completely to pieces. It is a very valuable suit. + + "Would you tell me what to do? + + "Very sincerely yours, + "JACQUELINE NEVERS." + +An hour later he still sat there with the letter in his hand, gazing at +nothing. And until the telephone beside him rang twice he had not +stirred. + +"Who is it?" he asked finally. + +At the reply his face altered subtly, and he bowed his head to listen. + +The distant voice spoke again, and: + +"Silverwood?" he asked. + +"Yes, here's your party." + +An interval filled with a vague whirring, then: + +"Mr. Desboro?" + +"Yes. Good-morning, Miss Nevers." + +"Good-morning. Have you a note from me?" + +"Yes, thank you. It came this morning. I was just reading it--again." + +"I thought I ought to consult you in such a matter." + +"Certainly." + +"Then--what are your wishes?" + +"My wishes are yours." + +"I cannot decide such a matter. It will be very expensive----" + +"If it is worth the cost to you, it is worth it to me." + +"I don't know what you mean. The burden of decision lies with you this +time, doesn't it?" + +"With us both. Unless you wish me to assume it." + +"But it _is_ yours to assume!" + +"If you wish, then. But I may ask your opinion, may I not?" + +There was a silence, then: + +"Whatever you do I approve. I have no--opinion." + +"You do not approve _all_ I do." + +The rejoinder came faintly: "How do you know?" + +"I--wrote to you. Do you approve my writing to you?" + +"Yes. If _you_ do." + +"And do you approve of what I wrote?" + +"Not of _all_ that you wrote." + +"I wrote that I would not see you again." + +"Yes." + +"Do you think that is best?" + +"I--do not think about it." + +He said: "That, also, is best. Don't think of it at all. And about the +armour, do exactly what you would do if you were in my place. Good-bye." + +"Mr. Desboro----" + +"Yes." + +"Could you wait a moment? I am trying to think----" + +"Don't try, Jacqueline!" + +"Please wait--for me!" + +There was a silence; a tiny spot of blood reddened his bitten lip before +she spoke again; then: + +"I wished to tell you something. I knew why you wrote. Is it right for +me to tell you that I understood you? I wanted to write and say so, +and--say something else--about how I felt--but it seems I can't. +Only--we could be friends more easily now--if you wish." + +"You have not understood!" he said. + +"Yes, I have, Mr. Desboro. But we _can_ be friends?" + +"Could you be _mine_, after what I have written?" + +"I thought I couldn't, at first. But that day was a--long one. And when +a girl is much alone she becomes very honest with herself. And it all +was entirely new to me. I didn't know what I ought to have done about +it--only what I wished to do." + +"And--what is that, Jacqueline?" + +"Make things as they were--before----" + +"Before I wrote?" + +"Yes." + +"All up to that time you wish might be again as it was? _All?_" + +No answer. + +"All?" he repeated. + +"Don't ask me. I don't know--I don't know what I think any more." + +"How deeply do you suppose I feel about it?" + +"I did not know you felt anything very deeply." + +There was a long pause, then her voice again: + +"You know--you need not be afraid. I did not know enough to be until you +wrote. But I understand, now." + +He said: "It will be all right, then. It will be quite all right, +Jacqueline. I'll come up on the noon train." + + * * * * * + +His car met him at the station. The snow had melted and the wet macadam +road glittered under a declining winter sun, as the car rolled smoothly +away through the still valleys of Westchester. + +Mrs. Quant, in best bib and tucker and lilac ribbons, welcomed him, and +almost wept at his pallor; but he shrugged impatiently and sprang up +the low steps. Here the necessity for self-control stopped him short on +his way to the armoury. He turned to Mrs. Quant with an effort: + +"Is everything all right?" + +"No, Mr. James. Phibby broke a cup and saucer Saturday, and there is new +kittens in the laundry--which makes nine cats----" + +"Oh, all right! Miss Nevers is here?" + +"Yes, sir--in the liberry--which ain't been dusted right by that Phibby +minx----" + +"Tell Phoebe to dust it!" he said sternly. "Do you suppose Miss Nevers +cares to handle dirty books!" His restless glance fell on the clock: +"Tell Farris I'm here and that Miss Nevers and I will lunch as soon as +it's served. And say to Miss Nevers that I'll be down in a few minutes." +He turned and mounted the stairs to his room, and found it full of +white, clove-scented carnations. + +Mrs. Quant came panting after him: + +"Miss Nevers, she cut them in the greenhouse, and told me to put 'em in +your room, sayin' as how clove pinks is sanitary. Would you--would you +try a few m-m-magic drops, Mr. James, sir? Miss Nevers takes 'em +regular." + +"Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed, laughing in sheer exuberance of spirits. "I'll +swallow anything you like, only hurry!" + +She dosed him with great content, he, both hands in soap-suds, turning +his head to receive the potion. And at last, ablutions finished, he ran +down the stairs, checked himself, and managed to stroll leisurely +through the hall and into the library. + +She was writing; looked up, suddenly pale under her golden crown of +hair; and the red lips quivered, but her eyes were steady. + +She bent her head again, both hands abandoned to him, sitting in silence +while his lips rested against her fingers. + +"Is all well with you, Jacqueline?" + +"Yes. And with you?" + +"All is well with me. I missed you--if you know what that really means." + +"Did you?" + +"Yes. Won't you even look at me?" + +"In a moment. Do you see all these piles of manuscript? All that is your +new catalogue--and mine," she added, with a faint smile; but her head +remained averted. + +"You wonderful girl!" he said softly. "You wonderful girl!" + +"Thank you. It was a labor of--pleasure." Colour stole to the tips of +her ears. "I have worked--worked--every minute since----" + +"Yes." + +"Really, I have--every minute. But somehow, it didn't seem to tire me. +To-day--now--I begin to feel a little tired." She rested her cheek on +one hand, still looking away from him. + +"I took a peep into the porcelain and jade rooms," she said, "just a +glance over what lies before me. Mrs. Quant very kindly gave me the +keys. Did you mind?" + +"Do I mind anything that it pleases you to do? What did you find in the +jade room?" + +She smiled: "Jadeite, of course; and lapis and crystals--the usual." + +"Any good ones?" + +"Some are miracles. I don't really know, yet; I gave just one swift +glance and fled--because you see I haven't finished in the armoury, and +I ought not to permit myself the pleasures of curiosity." + +"The pleasures of curiosity and of anticipation are the only real ones. +Sages have said it." + +She shook her head. + +"Isn't it true?" he insisted. + +She looked up at him at last, frank-eyed but flushed: + +[Illustration: "'Which is the real pleasure?' she asked"] + +"Which is the real pleasure," she asked, "seeing each other, or +anticipating the--the resumption of the entente cordial?" + +"You've smashed the sages and their philosophy," he nodded, studying the +exquisite, upturned features unsmilingly. "To be with you is the +greater--content. It's been a long time, hasn't it?" + +She nodded thoughtfully: "Five days and a half." + +"You--counted them, too?" + +"Yes." + +This wouldn't do. He rose and walked over to the fire, which needed a +log or two; she turned and looked after him with little expression in +her face except that the blue of her eyes had deepened to a lilac tint, +and the flush on her cheeks still remained. + +"You know," she said, "I didn't mean to take you from any business in +New York--or pleasures----" + +He shuddered slightly. + +"Did I?" she asked. + +"No." + +"I only wished you to come--when you had time----" + +"I know, Jacqueline. Don't show me your soul in every word you utter." + +"What?" + +He turned on his heel and came back to her, and she shrank a little, not +knowing why; but he came no nearer than her desk. + +[Illustration: "'The thing to do,' he said ... 'is for us both to keep +very busy'"] + +"The thing to do," he said, speaking with forced animation and at +random, "is for us both to keep very busy. I think I'll go into +farming--raise some dinky thing or other--that's what I'll do. I'll go +in for the country squire business--that's what I'll do. And I'll have +my neighbours in. I'm never here long enough to ask 'em. They're a funny +lot; they're all right, though--deadly respectable. I'll give a few +parties--ask some people from town, too. Betty Barkley could run the +conventional end of it. And you'd come floating in with other unattached +girls----" + +"You want _me_!" + +He said, astonished: "Well, why on earth do you suppose I'm taking the +trouble to ask the others?" + +"You want _me_--to come--where your friends----" + +"Don't you care to?" + +"I--don't know." The surprise of it still widened her eyes and parted +her lips a little. She looked up at him, perplexed, encountered +something in his eyes which made her cheeks redden again. + +"What would they think?" she asked. + +"Is there anything to think?" + +"N-no. But they don't know who I am. And I have nobody to vouch for me." + +"You ought to have a companion." + +"I don't want any----" + +"Of course; but you ought to have one. Can you afford one?" + +"I don't know. I don't know what they--they cost----" + +"Let me fix that up," he said, with animation. "Let me think it out. I +know a lot of people--I know some indigent and respectable old terrors +who ought to fill the bill and hold their tongues as long as their +salary is paid----" + +"Oh, please don't, Mr. Desboro!" + +He seated himself on the arm of her chair: + +"Jacqueline, dear, it's only for your sake----" + +"But I _did_ understand your letter!" + +"I know--I know. I just want to see you with other people. I just want +to have them see you----" + +"But I don't need a chaperon. Business women are understood, aren't +they? Even women whom you know go in for house decoration, and cigarette +manufacturing, and tea rooms, and hats and gowns." + +"But they were socially known before they went in for these things. It's +the way of the world, Jacqueline--nothing but suspicion when +intelligence and beauty step forward from the ranks. And what do you +suppose would happen if a man of my sort attempts to vouch for any +woman?" + +"Then don't--please don't try! I don't care for it--truly I don't. It +was nice of you to wish it, Mr. Desboro, but--I'd rather be just what I +am and--your friend." + +"It can't be," he said, under his breath. But she heard him, looked up +dismayed, and remained mute, crimsoning to the temples. + +"This oughtn't to go on," he said, doggedly. + +She said: "You have not understood me. I am different from you. You are +not to blame for thinking that we are alike at heart; but, nevertheless, +it is a mistake. I can be what I will--not what I once seemed to be--for +a moment--with you--" Her head sank lower and remained bowed; and he saw +her slender hands tightening on the arm of the chair. + +"I--I've got to be honest," she said under her breath. "I've got to +be--in every way. I know it perfectly well, Mr. Desboro. Men seem to be +different--I don't know why. But they seem to be, usually. And all I +want is to remain friends with you--and to remember that we are friends +when I am at work somewhere. I just want to be what I am, a business +woman with sufficient character and intelligence to be your friend +quietly--not even for one evening in competition with women belonging to +a different life--women with wit and beauty and charm and savoir +faire----" + +"Jacqueline!" he broke out impulsively. "I want you to be my guest +here. Won't you let me arrange with some old gorgon to chaperon you? I +can do it! And with the gorgon's head on your moral shield you can +silence anybody!" + +He began to laugh; she sat twisting her fingers on her lap and looking +up at him in a lovely, distressed sort of way, so adorably perplexed and +yet so pliable, so soft and so apprehensive, that his laughter died on +his lips, and he sat looking down at her in silence. + +After a while he spoke again, almost mechanically: + +"I'm trying to think how we can best be on equal terms, Jacqueline. That +is all. After your work is done here, I want to see you here and +elsewhere--I want you to come back at intervals, as my guest. Other +people will ask you. Other people must be here, too, when you are. I +know some who will accept you on your merits--if you are properly +chaperoned. That is all I am thinking about. It's fairer to you." + +But even to himself his motive was not clear--only the rather confused +idea persisted that women in his own world knew how to take care of +themselves, whatever they chose to do about it--that Jacqueline would +stand a fairer chance with herself, and with him, whatever his +intentions might really be. It would be a squarer deal, that was all. + +She sat thinking, one slim forefinger crook'd under her chin; and he saw +her blue eyes deep in thought, and the errant lock curling against her +cheek. Then she raised her head and looked at him: + +"Do you think it best?" + +"Yes--you adorable little thing!" + +She managed to sustain his gaze: + +"Could you find a lady gorgon?" + +"I'm sure I can. Shall I?" + +"Yes." + +A moment later Farris announced luncheon. A swarm of cats greeted them +at the door, purring and waiving multi-coloured tails, and escorted them +to the table, from whence they knew came the delectable things +calculated to satisfy the inner cat. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The countryside adjacent to Silverwood was eminently and +self-consciously respectable. The fat, substantial estates still +belonged to families whose forefathers had first taken title to them. +There were, of course, a number of "colonial" houses, also a "colonial" +inn, The Desboro Arms, built to look as genuine as possible, although +only two years old, steam heated, and electric lighted. + +But things "colonial" were the traditional capital of Silverwood, and +its thrifty and respectable inhabitants meant to maintain the +"atmosphere." To that end they had solemnly subscribed a very small sum +for an inn sign to swing in front of The Desboro Arms; the wheelwright +painted it; somebody fired a shotgunful of antiquity into it, and +American weather was rapidly doing the rest, with a gratifying result +which no degenerate European weather could have accomplished in half a +century of rain and sunshine. + +The majority of the mansions in Silverwood township were as +inoffensively commonplace as the Desboro house. Few pre-Revolutionary +structures survived; the British had burned the countryside from Major +Lockwood's mansion at Pound Ridge all the way to Bedford Village and +across to the Connecticut line. With few exceptions, Silverwood houses +had shared the common fate when Tarleton and DeLancy galloped amuck +among the Westchester hills; but here and there some sad old mansion +still remained and was reverently cherished, as was also the graveyard, +straggling up the hill, set with odd old headstones, upon which most +remarkable cherubim smirked under a gladly permitted accumulation of +lichen. + +Age, thrift, substance, respectability--these were the ideals of +Silverwood; and Desboro and his doings would never have been tolerated +there had it not been that a forbear of his, a certain dissolute +half-pay captain, had founded the community in 1680. This sacred +colonial fact had been Desboro's social salvation, for which, however, +he did not seem to care very much. Good women continued to be acidly +civil to him on this account, and also because Silverwood House and its +estates could no more be dropped from the revered galaxy of the county +than could a star be cast out of their country's flag for frivolous +behavior. + +So worthy men endured him, and irreproachable women grieved for him, +although it was rumoured that he gave parties now and then which real +actresses had actually attended. Also, though he always maintained the +Desboro pew in church, he never decorated it with his person. Nor could +the countryside count on him socially, except at eccentric intervals +when his careless, graceful presence made the Westchester gaiety seem +rather stiff and pallid, and gave the thin, sour claret an unwonted +edge. And another and radical incompatibility; the Desboros were the +only family of Cavalier descent in the township. And deep in the hearts +of Silverwood folk the Desboros had ever seemed a godless race. + +Now, there had been already some gossip among the Westchester hills +concerning recent doings at Silverwood House. Even when it became known +that the pretty girl who sped to and fro in Desboro's limousine, +between house and station, was a celebrated art expert, and was engaged +in cataloguing the famous Desboro collection, God-fearing people asked +each other why Desboro should find it necessary to meet her at the +station in the morning, and escort her back in the evening; and whether +it were actually obligatory for him to be present while the cataloguing +was in progress. + +Westchester womanhood was beginning to look wan and worried; substantial +gentlemen gazed inquiringly at each other over the evening chess-board; +several flippant young men almost winked at each other. But these latter +had been accustomed to New York, and were always under suspicion in +their own families. + +Therefore, it was with relief and surprise that Silverwood began to +observe Desboro in furs, driving a rakish runabout, and careering about +Westchester with Vail, his head farmer, seated beside him, evidently +intent on committing future agriculture--palpably planning for two +grass-blades where only one, or a mullein, had hitherto flourished +within the memory of living man. + +Fertiliser in large loads was driven into the fallow fields of the +Desboros; brush and hedges and fences were being put in order. People +beheld these radical preliminaries during afternoon drives in their +automobiles; local tradesmen reported purchases of chemicals for soil +enriching, and the sale of all sorts of farm utensils to Desboro's +agent. + +At the Country Club all this was gravely discussed; patriarchs mentioned +it over their checkers; maidens at bowls or squash or billiards listened +to the exciting tale, wide-eyed; hockey, ski, or skating parties +gossiped recklessly about it. The conclusion was that Desboro had +already sowed his wilder oats; and the worthy community stood watching +for the prodigal's return, intending to meet him while yet he was far +off. + +He dropped in at the Country Club one day, causing a little less flutter +than a hawk in a hen-yard. Within a week he had drifted casually into +the drawing-rooms of almost all his father's old friends for a cup of +tea or an informal chat--or for nothing in particular except to saunter +into his proper place among them with all of the Desboro grace and +amiable insouciance which they had learned to tolerate but never +entirely to approve or understand. + +It was not quite so casually that he stopped at the Hammerton's. And he +was given tea and buns by Mrs. Hammerton, perfectly unsuspicious of his +motives. Her husband came rambling in from the hothouses, presently, +where he spent most of his serious life in pinching back roses and +chrysanthemums; and he extended to Desboro a large, flat and placid +hand. + +"Aunt Hannah and Daisy are out--somewhere--" he explained vaguely. "You +must have passed them on the way." + +"Yes, I saw Daisy in the distance, exercising an old lady," said Desboro +carelessly. He did not add that the sight of Aunt Hannah marching across +the Westchester horizon had inspired him with an idea. + +From her lair in town, she had come hither, for no love of her nephew +and his family, nor yet for Westchester, but solely for economy's bitter +sake. She made such pilgrimages at intervals every year, upsetting the +Hammerton household with her sarcasms, her harsh, high-keyed laughter, +her hardened ways of defining the word "spade"--for Aunt Hannah was a +terror that Westchester dreaded but never dreamed of ignoring, she being +a wayward daughter of the sacred soil, strangely and weirdly warped from +long transplanting among the gay and godless of Gotham town. And though +her means, after her husband's scared soul had taken flight, were +painfully attenuated, the high priests and captains among the gay and +godless feared her, and she bullied them; and she and they continued to +foregather from sheer tradition, but with mutual and sincere dislike. +For Aunt Hannah's name would always figure among the names of certain +metropolitan dowagers, dragons, gorgons, and holy harridans; always be +connected with certain traditional social events as long as the old lady +lived. And she meant to survive indefinitely, if she had anything to say +about it. + +She came in presently with Daisy Hammerton. The latter gave her hand +frankly to her childhood's comrade; the former said: + +"Hah! James Desboro!" very disagreeably, and started to nourish herself +at once with tea and muffins. + +"James Desboro," she repeated scornfully, darting a wicked glance at him +where he stood smiling at her, "James Desboro, turning plow-boy in +Westchester! What's the real motive? That's what interests me. I'm a bad +old woman--I know it! All over paint and powder, and with too small a +foot and too trim a figger to be anything except wicked. Lindley knows +it; it makes his fingers tremble when he pinches crysanthemums; Susan +knows it; so does Daisy. And I admit it. And that's why I'm suspicious +of you, James; I'm so wicked myself. Come, now; why play the honest +yokel? Eh? You good-looking good-for-nothing!" + +"My motive," he said amiably, "is to make a living and learn what it +feels like." + +"Been stock-gambling again?" + +"Yes, dear lady." + +"Lose much?" she sniffed. + +"Not a very great deal." + +"Hah! And now you've got to raise the wind, somehow?" + +He repeated, good-humouredly: "I want to make a living." + +The trim little old lady darted another glance at him. + +"Ha--ha!" she laughed, without giving any reason for the disagreeable +burst of mirth; and started in on another muffin. + +"I think," said Mr. Hammerton, vaguely, "that James will make an +excellent agriculturist----" + +"Excellent fiddlesticks!" observed Aunt Hannah. "He'd make a good +three-card man." + +Daisy Hammerton said aside to Desboro: + +"Isn't she a terror!" + +"Oh, she likes me!" he said, amused. + +"I know she does, immensely. She makes me take her for an hour's walk +every day--and I'm so tired of exercising her and listening to +her--unconventional stories--about you." + +"She's a bad old thing," said Desboro affectionately, and, in his +natural voice: "Aren't you, Aunt Hannah? But there isn't a smarter foot, +or a prettier hand, or a trimmer waist in all Gotham, is there?" + +"Philanderer!" she retorted, in a high-pitched voice. "What about that +Van Alstyne supper at the Santa Regina?" + +"Which one?" he asked coolly. "Stuyve is always giving 'em." + +"Read the _Tattler_!" said the old lady, seizing more muffins. + +Mrs. Hammerton closed her tight lips and glanced uneasily at her +daughter. Daisy sipped her tea demurely. She had read all about it, and +burned the paper in her bedroom grate. + +Desboro gracefully ignored the subject; the old lady laughed shrilly +once or twice, and the conversation drifted toward the more decorous +themes of pinching back roses and mixing plant-food, and preparing +nourishment for various precocious horticultural prodigies now +developing in Lindley Hammerton's hothouses. + +Daisy Hammerton, a dark young girl, with superb eyes and figure, chatted +unconcernedly with Desboro, making a charming winter picture in her +scarlet felt hat and jacket, from which the black furs had fallen back. +She went in for things violent and vigorous, and no nonsense; rode as +hard as she could in such a country, played every game that demanded +quick eye and flexible muscle--and, in secret, alas, wrote verses and +short stories unanimously rejected by even the stodgier periodicals. But +nobody suspected her of such weakness--not even her own mother. + +Desboro swallowed his tea and took leave of his rose-pinching host and +hostess, and their sole and lovely progeny, also, perhaps, the result of +scientific concentration. Aunt Hannah retained his hand: + +"Where are you going now, James?" + +"Nowhere--home," he said, pretending embarrassment, which was enough to +interest Aunt Hannah in the trap. + +"Oh! Nowhere--home!" she mimicked him. "Where is 'nowhere home'? +Somewhere out? I've a mind to go with you. What do you say to that, +young man?" + +"Come along," he said, a shade too promptly; and the little, bright, +mink-like eyes sparkled with malice. The trap was sprung, and Aunt +Hannah was in it. But she didn't yet suspect it. + +"Slip on my fur coat for me," she said. "I'll take a spin with you in +your runabout." + +"You overwhelm me," he protested, holding up the fur coat. + +"I may do that yet, my clever friend! Come on! No shilly-shallying! +Susan! Tell your maid to lay out that Paquin gown which broke my +financial backbone last month! I'll bring James back to dinner--or know +the reason why!" + +"I'll tell you why not, now," said Desboro. "I'm going to town early +this evening." + +"Home, nowhere, and then to town," commented Aunt Hannah loudly. "A +multi-nefarious destination. James, if you run into the _Ewigkeit_ by +way of a wire fence or a tree, I'll come every night and haunt you! But +don't poke along as Lindley pokes, or I'll take the wheel myself." + +The deaf head-farmer, Vail, who had kept the engine going for fear of +freezing, left the wheel and crawled resignedly into the tonneau. + +Aunt Hannah and Desboro stowed themselves aboard; the swift car went off +like a firecracker, then sped away into the darkness at such a pace +that presently Aunt Hannah put her marmot-like face close to Desboro's +ear and swore at him. + +"Didn't you want speed?" he asked, slowing down. + +"Where are you going, James--home, or nowhere?" + +"Nowhere." + +"Well, we arrived there long ago. Now, go home--_your_ home." + +"Sure, but I've got to catch that train----" + +"Oh, you'll catch it--or something else. James?" + +"Madame?" + +"Some day I want to take a look at that young woman who is cataloguing +your collection." + +"That's just what I want you to do now," he said cheerfully. "I'm taking +her to New York this evening." + +Aunt Hannah, astonished and out of countenance, remained mute, her sharp +nose buried in her furs. She had been trapped, and she knew it. Then her +eyes glittered: + +"You're being talked about," she said with satisfaction. "So is she! +Ha!" + +"Much?" he asked coolly. + +"No. The good folk are only asking each other why you meet her at the +station with your car. They think she carries antique gems in her +satchel. Later they'll suspect who the real jewel is. Ha!" + +"I like her; that's why I meet her," he said coolly. + +"You _like_ her?" + +"I sure do. She is some girl, dear lady." + +"Do you think your pretense of guileless candour is disarming me, young +man?" + +"I haven't the slightest hope of disarming you or of concealing anything +from you." + +"Follows," she rejoined ironically, "that there's nothing to conceal. +Bah!" + +"Quite right; there is nothing to conceal." + +"What do you want with her, then?" + +"Initially, I want her to catalogue my collection; subsequently, I wish +to remain friends with her. The latter wish is becoming a problem. I've +an idea that you might solve it." + +"_Friends_ with her," repeated Aunt Hannah. "Oh, my! + + "'And angels whisper + Lo! the pretty pair!' + +"I suppose! Is that the hymn-tune, James?" + +"Precisely." + +"What does she resemble--Venus, or Rosa Bonheur?" + +"Look at her and make up your mind." + +"Is she _very_ pretty?" + +"_I_ think so. She's thin." + +"Then what do you see unusual about her?" + +"Everything, I think." + +"Everything--he thinks! Oh, my sense of humour!" + +"That," said Desboro, "is partly what I count on." + +"Have you any remote and asinine notions of educating her and marrying +her, and foisting her on your friends? There are a few fools still alive +on earth, you know." + +"So I've heard. I haven't the remotest idea of marrying her; she is +better fitted to educate me than I am her. Not guilty on these two +counts. But I had thought of foisting some of my friends on her. You, +for example." + +Aunt Hannah glared at him--that is, her tiny eyes became almost +luminous, like the eyes of small animals at night, surprised by a sudden +light. + +"I know what you're meditating!" she snapped. + +"I suppose you do, by this time." + +"You're very impudent. Do you know it?" + +"Lord, Aunt Hannah, so are you!" he drawled. "But it takes genius to get +away with it." + +The old lady was highly delighted, but she concealed it and began such a +rapid-fire tirade against him that he was almost afraid it might +bewilder him enough to affect his steering. + +"Talk to _me_ of disinterested friendship between you and a girl of that +sort!" she ended. "Not that I'd care, if I found material in her to +amuse me, and a monthly insult drawn to my order against a solvent bank +balance! What is she, James; a pretty blue-stocking whom nobody +'understands' except you?" + +"Make up your own mind," he repeated, as he brought around the car and +stopped before his own doorstep. "I'm not trying to tell _you_ anything. +She is here. Look at her. If you like her, be her friend--and mine." + +Jacqueline had waited tea for him; the table was in the library, kettle +simmering over the silver lamp; and the girl was standing before the +fire, one foot on the fender, her hands loosely linked behind her back. + +She glanced up with unfeigned pleasure as his step sounded outside along +the stone hallway; and the smile still remained, curving her lips, but +died out in her eyes, as Mrs. Hammerton marched in, halted, and stared +at her unwinkingly. + +Desboro presented them; Jacqueline came forward, offering a shy hand to +Aunt Hannah, and, bending her superb young head, looked down into the +beady eyes which were now fairly electric with intelligence. + +Desboro began, easily: + +"I asked Mrs. Hammerton to have tea with----" + +"I asked myself," remarked Aunt Hannah, laying her other hand over +Jacqueline's--she did not know just why--perhaps because she was vain of +her hands, as well as of her feet and "figger." + +She seated herself on the sofa and drew Jacqueline down beside her. + +"This young man tells me that you are cataloguing his grandfather's +accumulation of ancient tin-ware." + +"Yes," said Jacqueline, already afraid of her. And the old lady divined +it, too, with not quite as much pleasure as it usually gave her to +inspire trepidation in others. + +Her shrill voice was a little modified when she said: + +"Where did you learn to do such things? It's not usual, you know." + +"You have heard of Jean Louis Nevers," suggested Desboro. + +"Yes--" Mrs. Hammerton turned and looked at the girl again. "Oh!" she +said. "I've heard Cary Clydesdale speak of you, haven't I?" + +Jacqueline made a slight, very slight, but instinctive movement away +from the old lady, on whom nothing that happened was lost. + +"Mr. Clydesdale," said Mrs. Hammerton, "told several people where I was +present that you knew more about antiquities in art than anybody else +in New York since your father died. That's what he said about you." + +Jacqueline said: "Mr. Clydesdale has been very kind to me." + +"Kindness to people is also a Clydesdale tradition--isn't it, James?" +said the old lady. "How kind Elena has always been to you!" + +The covert impudence of Aunt Hannah, and her innocent countenance, had +no significance for Jacqueline--would have had no meaning at all except +for the dark flush of anger that mounted so suddenly to Desboro's +forehead. + +He said steadily: "The Clydesdales are very old friends, and are +naturally kind. Why you don't like them I never understood." + +"Perhaps you can understand why one of them doesn't like me, James." + +"Oh! I can understand why many people are not crazy about you, Aunt +Hannah," he said, composedly. + +"Which is going some," said the old lady, with a brisk and unabashed +employment of the vernacular. Then, turning to Jacqueline: "Are you +going to give this young man some tea, my child? He requires a tonic." + +Jacqueline rose and seated herself at the table, thankful to escape. Tea +was soon ready; Aunt Hannah, whose capacity for browsing was infinite, +began on jam and biscuits without apology. And Jacqueline and Desboro +exchanged their first furtive glances--dismayed and questioning on the +girl's part, smilingly reassuring on Desboro's. Aunt Hannah, looking +intently into her teacup, missed nothing. + +"Come to see me!" she said so abruptly that even Desboro started. + +[Illustration: "'I--I beg your pardon,' said Jacqueline"] + +"I--I beg your pardon," said Jacqueline, not understanding. + +"Come to see me in town. I've a rotten little place in a fashionable +apartment house--one of the Park Avenue kind, which they number instead +of calling it the 'Buena Vista' or the 'Hiawatha.' Will you come?" + +"Thank you." + +The old lady looked at her grimly: + +"What does 'thank you' mean? Yes or no? Because I really want you. Don't +you wish to come?" + +"I would be very glad to come--only, you know, I am in business--and go +out very little----" + +"Except on business," added Desboro, looking Aunt Hannah unblushingly in +the eye until she wanted to pinch him. Instead, she seized another +biscuit, which Farris presented on a tray, smoking hot, and applied jam +to it vigorously. After she had consumed it, she rose and marched around +the room, passing the portraits and book shelves in review. Half turning +toward Jacqueline: + +"I haven't been in the musty old mansion for years; that young man never +asks me. But I used to know the house. It was this sort of house that +drove me out of Westchester, and I vowed I'd marry a New York man or +nobody. Do you know, child, that there is a sort of simpering smugness +about a house like this that makes me inclined to kick dents in the +furniture?" + +Jacqueline ventured to smile; Desboro's smile responded in sympathy. + +"I'm going home," announced Aunt Hannah. "Good-bye, Miss Nevers. I don't +want you to drive me, James; I'd rather have your man take me back. +Besides, you've a train to catch, I understand----" She turned and +looked at Jacqueline, who had risen, and they stood silently inspecting +each other. Then, with a grim nod, as though partly of comprehension, +partly in adieu, Aunt Hannah sailed out. Desboro tucked her in beside +Vail. The latter being quite deaf, they talked freely under his very +nose. + +"James!" + +"Yes, dear lady." + +"You gave _yourself_ away about Elena Clydesdale. Haven't you any +control over your countenance?" + +"Sometimes. But don't do that again before _her_! The story is a lie, +anyway." + +"So I've heard--from you. Tell me, James, do you think this little +Nevers girl dislikes me?" + +"Do you want her to?" + +"No. You're a very clever young one, aren't you? Really quite an expert! +Do you know, I don't think that girl would care for what I might have to +offer her. There's more to her than to most people." + +"How do you know? She scarcely spoke a word." + +The old lady laughed scornfully: + +"I know people by what they _don't_ say. That's why I know you so much +better than you think I do--you and Elena Clydesdale. And _I_ don't +think you're much good, James--or some of your married friends, either." + +She settled down among the robes, with a bright, impertinent glance at +him. He shrugged, standing bareheaded by the mud-guard, a lithe, +handsome young fellow. "--A Desboro all over," she thought, with a +mental sniff of admiration. + +"Are you going to speak to Miss Nevers?" she asked, abruptly. + +"About what!" + +"About employing me, you idiot!" + +"Yes, if you like. If she comes up here as my guest, she'll need a +gorgon." + +"I'll gorgon you," she retorted, wrathfully. + +"Thanks. So you'll accept the--er--job?" + +"Of course, if she wishes. I need the money. It's purely mercenary on my +part." + +"That's understood." + +"Are you going to tell her I'm mercenary?" + +"Naturally." + +"Well, then--_don't_--if you don't mind. Do you think I want _every_ +living creature to detest me?" + +"_I_ don't detest you. And you have an unterrified tabby-cat at home, +haven't you?" + +She could have boxed his ears as he leaned over and deliberately kissed +her cheek. + +"I love you because you're so bad," he whispered; and, stepping lightly +aside, nodded to Vail to go ahead. + +The limousine, acetylenes shining, rolled up as the other car departed. +He went back to the library and found Jacqueline pinning on her hat. + +"Well?" he inquired gaily. + +"Why did you bring her, Mr. Desboro?" + +"Didn't you like her?" + +"Who is she?" + +"A Mrs. Hannah Hammerton. She knows everybody. Most people are afraid of +her. She's poor as a guinea-pig." + +"She was beautifully gowned." + +"She always is. Poor Aunt Hannah!" + +"Is she your aunt?" + +"No, she's Lindley Hammerton's aunt--a neighbour of mine. I call her +that; it made her very mad in the beginning, but she rather likes it +now. You'll go to call on her, won't you?" + +Jacqueline turned to him, drawing on her gloves: + +"Mr. Desboro, I don't wish to be rude; and, anyway, she will forget that +she asked me in another half-hour. Why should I go to see her?" + +"Because she's one species of gorgon. Now, do you understand?" + +"What!" + +"Of course. It isn't a case of pin-money with her; it's a case of +clothing, rent, and nourishment. A microscopic income, supplemented by +gifts, commissions, and odd social jobs, keeps her going. What you and I +want of her is for her to be seen at various times with you. She'll do +the rest in talking about you--'my unusually talented young friend, Miss +Nevers,' and that sort of thing. It will deceive nobody; but you'll +eventually meet some people--she knows all kinds. The main point is that +when I ask you here she'll bring you. People will understand that you +are another of her social enterprises, for which she's paid. But it +won't count against you. It will depend on yourself entirely how you are +received. And not a soul will be able to say a word--" he laughed, +"--except that I am very devoted to the beautiful Miss Nevers--as +everybody else will be." + +Jacqueline remained motionless for a few moments, an incomprehensible +expression on her face; then she went over to him and took one of his +hands in her gloved ones, and stood looking down at it in silence. + +"Well," he asked, smiling. + +She said, still looking down at his hand lying between her own: + +"You have behaved in the sweetest way to me--" Her voice grew unsteady, +and she turned her head sharply away. + +"Jacqueline!" he exclaimed under his breath. "It's a broken reed you're +trusting. Don't, dear. I'm like all the others." + +She shook her head slightly, still looking away from him. After a short +silence, her voice returned to her control again. + +"You are very kind to me, Mr. Desboro. When a man sees that a girl likes +him--and is kind to her--it is wonderful to her." + +He tried to take a lighter tone. + +"It's the case of the beast born in captivity, Jacqueline. I'm only +going through the tricks convention has taught me. But every instinct +remains unaltered." + +"That _is_ civilisation, isn't it?" + +"Oh, I don't know what it is--you wonderful little thing!" + +He caught her hand, then encircled her waist, drawing her close. After a +moment, she dropped her big, fluffy muff on his shoulder and hid her +flushed face in the fur. + +"Don't trust me, will you?" he said, bluntly. + +"No." + +"Because I--I'm an unaccountable beast." + +"We--both have to account--sometime--to somebody. Don't we?" she said in +a muffled voice. + +"That would never check me." + +"It would--me." + +"Spiritual responsibility?" + +"Yes." + +"Is that _all_?" + +"What else is there to remember--when a girl--cares for a man." + +"Do you really care very much?" + +Perhaps she considered the question superfluous, for she remained silent +until his nerveless arm released her. Then she lifted her face from the +muff. It was pale but smiling when he met her eyes. + +"I'll go to see Mrs. Hammerton, some day," she said, "because it would +hurt too much not to be able to come here when you ask me--and other +people--like the--the Clydesdales. You _were_ thinking of me when you +thought of this, weren't you?" + +"In a way. A girl has got to reckon with what people say." + +She nodded, pale and expressionless, slowly brushing up the violets +fastened to her muff. + +Farris appeared, announced the time, and held Desboro's coat. They had +just margin enough to make their train. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The following morning, Aunt Hannah returned to her tiny apartment on +Park Avenue, financially benefitted by her Westchester sojourn, having +extracted a bolt of Chinese loot-silk for a gown from her nephew's +dismayed wife, and the usual check from her nephew. + +Lindley, a slow, pallid, and thrifty soul, had always viewed Aunt +Hannah's event with unfeigned alarm, because, somehow or other, at the +close of every visit he found himself presenting her with a check. And +it almost killed him. + +Years ago he had done it for the first time. He had never intended to; +certainly never meant to continue. Every time she appeared he vowed to +himself that he wouldn't. But before her visit ended, the pressure of +custom became too much for him; a deadly sense of obligation toward this +dreadful woman--of personal responsibility for her indigence--possessed +him, became gradually an obsession, until he exorcised it by the present +of a check. + +She never spoke of it--never seemed to hint at it--always seemed +surprised and doubtful of accepting; but some devilish spell certainly +permeated the atmosphere in her immediate vicinity, drawing perfectly +good money out of his innermost and tightly buttoned breast-pockets and +leaving it certified and carelessly crumpled in her velvet reticule. + +It happened with a sickening regularity which now he had come to view +with the modified internal fury of resignation. It had simply become a +terrible custom, and, with all his respectable inertia and thrifty +caution, adherence to custom ruled Lindley Hammerton. For years he had +pinched roses; for years he had drawn checks for Aunt Hannah. Nothing +but corporeal dissolution could terminate these customs. + +As for Aunt Hannah, she banked her check and had her bolt of silk made +into a gown, and trotted briskly about her business with perennial +self-confidence in her own ability to get on. + +Once or twice during the following fortnight she remembered Jacqueline, +and mentally tabulated her case as a possible source of future income; +but social duties were many and acridly agreeable, and pecuniary +pickings plenty. Up to her small, thin ears in intrigue, harmless and +not quite so harmless, she made hay busily while the social sun shone; +and it was near the end of February before a stagnation in pleasure and +business brought Jacqueline's existence into her mind again. + +She called up Silverwood, and eventually got Desboro on the wire. + +"Do you know," she said, "that your golden-headed and rather attenuated +inamorata has never had the civility to call on me!" + +"She has been too busy." + +"Too busy gadding about Silverwood with you!" + +"She hasn't been here since you saw her." + +"What!" + +"It's quite true. An important collection is to be sold under the hammer +on the premises; she had the contract to engineer that matter before she +undertook to catalogue my stuff." + +"Oh! Haven't you seen her since?" + +"Yes." + +"_Not_ at Silverwood?" + +"No, only at her office." + +He could hear her sniff and mutter something, then: + +"I thought you were going to give some parties at Silverwood, and ask me +to bring your pretty friend," she said. + +"I am. She has the jades and crystals to catalogue. What I want, as soon +as she gets rid of Clydesdale, is for her to resume work here--come up +and remain as my guest until the cataloguing is finished. So you see +I'll have to have you, too." + +"That's a cordial and disinterested invitation, James!" + +"Will you come? I'll ask half a dozen people. You can kill a few at +cards, too." + +"When?" + +"The first Thursday in March. It's a business proposition, but it's +between you and me, and she is not to suspect it." + +"Very well," said Aunt Hannah cheerfully. "I'll arrange my engagements +accordingly. And do try to have a gay party, James; and don't ask the +Clydesdales. You know how Westchester gets on my nerves. And I always +hated her." + +"You are very unjust to her and to him----" + +"You can't tell me anything about Cary Clydesdale, or about his wife, +either," she interrupted tartly, and rang off in a temper. And Desboro +went back to his interrupted business with Vail. + +Since Jacqueline had been compelled to suspend temporarily her inventory +at Silverwood in favor of prior engagements, Desboro had been to the +city only twice, and both times to see her. + +He had seen her in her office, remained on both occasions for an hour +only, and had then taken the evening train back to Silverwood. But every +evening he had written her of the day just ended--told her about the +plans for farming, now maturing, of the quiet life at Silverwood, how +gradually he was reëstablishing neighbourly relations with the +countryside, how much of a country squire he was becoming. + +"--And the whole thing with malice aforethought," he wrote. "--Every +blessed move only a strategy in order that, to do you honour, I may +stand soberly and well before the community when you are among my +guests. + +"In tow of Aunt Hannah; engaged for part of the day in your business +among the jades, crystals, and porcelains of a celebrated collection; +one of a house party; and the guest of a young man who has returned very +seriously to till the soil of his forefathers; all that anybody can +possibly think of it will be that your host is quite as captivated by +your grace, wisdom, and beauty as everybody else will be. + +"And what do you think of that, Jacqueline?" + + * * * * * + +"I think," she wrote, "that no other man has ever been as nice to me. I +do not really care about the other people, but I quite understand that +you and I could not see each other as freely as we have been doing, +without detriment to me. I like you--superfluous admission! And I should +miss seeing you--humble confession! And so I suppose it is best that +everybody should know who and what I am--a business woman well-bred +enough to sit at table with your friends, with sufficient +self-confidence to enter and leave a room properly, to maintain my grasp +on the conversational ball, and to toss it lightly to my vis-à-vis when +the time comes. + +"All this is worth doing and enduring for the sake of being your guest. +Without conscientious scruples, apprehensions, perplexities, and fears I +could never again come to Silverwood and be there alone with you as I +have been. Always I have been secretly unhappy and afraid after a day +with you at Silverwood. Sooner or later it would have had to end. It can +not go on--as it has been going. I know it. The plea of business is soon +worn threadbare if carelessly used. + +"And so--caring for your friendship as I do--and it having become such a +factor in my life--I find it easy to do what you ask me; and I have +arranged to go with Mrs. Hammerton to Silverwood on the first Thursday +in March, to practice my profession, enjoy the guests at your house +party, and cultivate our friendship with a clear conscience and a +tranquil and happy mind. + +"It was just that little element of protection I needed to make me more +happy than I have ever been. Somehow, I _couldn't_ care for you as +frankly and freely as I wanted to. And some things have happened--you +know what I mean. I didn't reproach you, or pretend surprise or anger. I +felt neither--only a confused sense of unhappiness. But--I cared for you +enough to submit. + +"Now I go to you with a sense of security that is delightful. You don't +understand how a girl situated as I am feels when she knows that she is +in a position where any woman has the right to regard her with +suspicion. Skating, motoring, with you, I could not bear to pass people +you knew and to whom you bowed--women--even farmers' wives. + +"But now it will be different; I feel so warmly confident at heart, so +secure, that I shall perhaps dare to say and do and be much that you +never suspected was in me. The warm sun of approval makes a very +different person of me. A girl, who, in her heart, does not approve of +what she is doing, and who is always expecting to encounter other women +who would not approve, is never at her best--isn't even herself--and +isn't really happy, even with a man she likes exceedingly. You will, I +think, see a somewhat different girl on Thursday." + + * * * * * + +"If your words are sometimes a little misty," he wrote, "your soul +shines through everything you say, with a directness entirely heavenly. +Life, for us, begins on Thursday, under cover no longer, but in the +open. And the field will be as fair for you as for me. That is as it +should be; that is as far as I care to look. But somehow, after all is +done and said that ever will be said and done between you and me, I am +conscious that when we two emerge from the dream called 'living,' you +will lead and direct us both--even if you never do so here on earth. + +"I am not given to this sort of stuff. + +"Jacqueline, dear, I'd like to amuse my guests with something unusual. +Could you help me out?" + + * * * * * + +She answered: "I'll do anything in the world I can to make your house +party pleasant for you and your guests. So I've asked Mr. Sissly to give +a recital. It is quite the oddest thing; you don't _listen_ to a +symphony which he plays on the organ; you _see_ it. He will send the +organ, electrical attachments, lights, portable stage and screen, to +Silverwood; and his men will install everything in the armoury. + +"Then, if it would amuse your guests, I could tell them a little about +your jades and crystals, and do it in a rather unusual way. I think +you'd rather like it. Shall I?" + + * * * * * + +He wrote some days later: "What a darling you are! Anything you do will +be charming. Sissly's men have arrived and are raising a racket in the +armoury with hammer and saw. + +"The stage will look quite wonderful between the wide double rank of +equestrian figures in armour. + +"Aunt Hannah writes that you called on her and that you and she are +coming up on the train together, which is delightfully sensible, and +exactly as it should be. Heaven alone knows how long you are going to be +able to endure her. It's rather odd, you know, but I like her and always +have, though she's made things disagreeable for me more than once in my +life. + +"Your room is ready; Aunt Hannah's adjoins. Quarters for other guests +are ready also. Have you any idea how I look forward to your coming?" + + * * * * * + +Three days later his guests arrived on the first three morning trains--a +jolly crowd of young people--nineteen of them--who filled his +automobiles and horse-drawn vehicles. Their luggage followed in vans, +from which protruded skis and hockey sticks. There being no porter, the +butler of Silverwood House received them in front of the lodge at the +outer gates, offering the "guest cup," a Desboro custom of many +generations, originating in England, although the lodge had stood empty +and the gates open since his grandfather's time. + +[Illustration: "There was, for a moment, an unconscious and unwonted +grace in his manner"] + +Desboro welcomed them on his own doorstep; and there was, for a moment, +an unconscious and unwonted grace in his manner and bearing--an +undefined echo in his voice of other and more courtly times, as he gave +his arm to Aunt Hannah and led her inside the hall. + +There it exhaled and vanished as Mrs. Quant and the maids smilingly +conducted the guests to their various quarters--vanished with the +smiling formality of his greeting to Jacqueline. + +The men returned first, clad in their knickerbockers and skating +jackets. Cocktails awaited them in the billiard-room, and they gathered +there in noisy curiosity over this celebrated house not often opened to +anybody except its owner. + +"Who is the dream, Jim?" demanded Reginald Ledyard. "I mean the wonder +with the gold hair, that Mrs. Hammerton has in tow?" + +"A friend of Aunt Hannah's--an expert in antique art--and as clever and +charming as she is pretty," said Desboro pleasantly. + +"High-brow! Oh, help!" muttered Ledyard. "Where's your library? I want +to read up." + +"She can talk like other people," remarked Van Alstyne. "I got next on +the train--old lady Hammerton stood for me. She can flirt some, I'll +tell you those." + +Bertie Barkley extracted the olive from a Bronx and considered it +seriously. + +"The old lady is on a salary, of course. Nobody ever heard of anybody +named Nevers," he remarked. + +"They'll hear of somebody named Nevers now," observed Captain Herrendene +with emphasis, "or," he added in modest self-depreciation, "I am all +kinds of a liar." + +"Where did you know her, Jim?" inquired Ledyard curiously. + +"Oh, Miss Nevers's firm has charge of cataloguing my armour and jades. +They're at it still. That's how I first met her--in a business way. And +when I found her to be a friend of Aunt Hannah's, I asked them both up +here as my guests." + +"You always had an eye for beauty," said Cairns. "What do you suppose +Mrs. Hammerton's game is?" + +"Why, to make Miss Nevers known where she really ought to belong," +replied Desboro frankly. + +"How high does she plan to climb?" asked Barkley. "Above the vegetating +line?" + +"Probably not as far as the line of perpetual stupidity," said Desboro. +"Miss Nevers appears to be a very busy, and very intelligent, and +self-sufficient young lady, and I imagine she would have neither time +nor inclination to decorate any of the restless, gilt-encrusted sets." + +Van Alstyne said: "She's got the goods to deliver almost anywhere Mrs. +Hammerton chooses--F. O. B. what?" + +"She's some dream," admitted Ledyard as they all moved toward the +library. + +There were a lot of gay young girls there in skating costumes; Ledyard's +sister Marie, with her large figure and pretty but slightly stupid face; +Helsa Steyr, blonde, athletic, and red-haired; Athalie Vannis, with her +handsome, dark face, so often shadowed by discontent; Barkley's animated +little wife, Elizabeth, grey-eyed and freckled and brimming with +mischief of the schoolboy quality; the stately Katharine Frere; Aunt +Hannah; and Jacqueline. + +All except the latter two had been doing something to cocktails of +various species; Jacqueline took nothing; Aunt Hannah, Scotch whiskey +with relish. + +"It's about the last of the skating," said Desboro, "so we'd better take +what we can get as soon as luncheon is over. Pick your partners and +don't squabble. Me for Mrs. Hammerton!" and he led her out. + +At table he noticed that Captain Herrendene had secured Jacqueline, and +that Reggie Ledyard, on the other side, was already neglecting his own +partner in his eager, good-looking and slightly loutish fashion of +paying court to the newest and prettiest girl. + +Aunt Hannah's glance continually flickered sideways at Desboro, but when +she discovered that he was aware of her covert scrutiny, she said under +her breath: + +"I've been shopping with her; the little thing didn't know how to clothe +herself luxuriously in the more intimate details. I'd like to see +anybody's maid patronise her now! Yours don't know enough--but she'll go +where there are those who do know, sooner or later. What do you think of +her?" + +"What I always think," he said coolly. "She is the most interesting girl +I ever met." + +"She's too clever to care very much for what I can offer her," said Mrs. +Hammerton drily. "Glitter and tinsel would never dazzle her, James; +pretense, complacency, bluff, bragg, she'd devilish soon see through it +all with those clear, intelligent eyes--see at the bottom what lies +squirming there--anxiety, self-distrust, eternal dread, undying envy, +the secret insecurity of those who imitate the real--which does not +exist in America--and who know in their hopeless hearts that they are +only shams, like that two-year-old antique tavern yonder, made quaint to +order." + +He said smilingly: "She'll soon have enough of your particular +familiars. But, little by little, she'll find herself in accord with +people who seek her as frankly as she seeks them. Natural selection, you +know. Your only usefulness is to give her the opportunity, and you've +begun to do it, bless your heart." + +She flashed a malicious glance at him; under cover of the gay hubbub she +said: + +"I may do more than that, James." + +"Really." + +"Yes; I may open her eyes to men of your sort." + +"Her eyes are open already, I suppose." + +"Not very wide. For example--you'd never marry her. Would you?" + +"Don't talk that way," he said coldly. + +"No, I don't have to talk at all. I _know_. If you ever marry, I know +what deadly species of female it will be. You're probably right; you're +that kind, too--no real substance to you, James. And so I think I'll +have to look after my intellectual protégée, and be very sure that her +pretty eyes are wide open." + +He turned toward her; their glances met level and hard: + +"Let matters alone," he said. "I have myself in hand." + +"You have in hand a horse with a runaway record, James." + +Cairns, on her left, spoke to her; she turned and answered, then +presented her well-shaped back to that young gentleman and again crossed +glances with Desboro, who was waiting, cool as steel. + +"Come, James," she said in a low voice, "what do you mean to do? A man +always means something or nothing; and the latter is the more +dangerous." + +As that was exactly what Desboro told himself he had always meant, he +winced and remained silent. + +"Oh, you--the lot of you!" she said with smiling contempt. "I'll equip +that girl to take care of herself before I'm through with her. Watch +me." + +"It is part of your business. Equip her to take care of herself as +thoroughly as anybody you know. Then it will be up to her--as it is up +to all women, after all--and to all men." + +"Oh, is it? You've all the irresponsibility and moral rottenness of your +Cavalier ancestors in you; do you know it, James? The Puritan, at least, +never doubted that he was his brother's keeper." + +Desboro said doggedly: "With the individual alone rests what that +individual will be." + +"Is that your mature belief?" she asked ironically. + +"It is, dear lady." + +"Lord! To think of a world full of loosened creatures like you! A +civilised society swarming with callow and irresponsible opportunists, +amateur Jesuits, idle intelligences reinfected with the toxins of their +own philosophy! But," she shrugged, "I am indicting man himself--nations +and nations of him. Besides, we women have always known this. And +hybrids are hybrids. If there's any claret in the house, tell Farris to +fetch some. Don't be angry, James. Man and woman once were different +species, and the world has teemed with their hybrids since the first +mating." + +Mrs. Barkley leaned across the table toward him: + +"What's the matter, James? You look dangerous." + +His face cleared and he smiled: + +"Nobody is really dangerous except to themselves, Betty." + +She quoted saucily: "Il n'y a personne qui ne soit dangereux pour +quelqu'un!" + +Mrs. Hammerton added: "Il faut tout attendre et tout craindre du temps +et des hommes." + +Reggie Ledyard, much flattered, admitted the wholesale indictment +against his sex: + +"How can we help it? Man, possessing always dual personality, is +naturally inclined toward a double life." + +"Man's chief study has been man for so long," observed Mrs. Hammerton, +"that the world has passed by, leaving him behind, still engrossed in +counting his thumbs. Name your French philosopher who can beat that +reflection," she added to Desboro, who smiled absently. + +[Illustration: "All the men there had yielded to the delicate attraction +of her"] + +From moment to moment he had been watching Jacqueline and the men always +leaning toward her--Reggie Ledyard persistently bringing to bear on her +the full splendour of his straw-blond and slightly coarse beauty; +Cairns, receptive and débonnaire as usual; Herrendene, with his keen +smile and sallow visage lined with the memory of things that had left +their marks--all the men there had yielded to the delicate attraction of +her. + +Desboro said to Mrs. Hammerton: "Now you realise where she really +belongs." + +"Better than you do," she retorted drily. + +After luncheon there were vehicles to convey them to the pond, a small +sheet of water down in the Desboro woods. And while a declining sun +glittered through the trees, the wooded shores echoed with the clatter +and scrape of skates and the rattle of hockey-sticks crossed in lively +combat. + +But inshore the ice had rotted; the end of such sport was already in +sight. Along the gravelly inlet, where water rippled, a dozen fingerling +trout lay half hidden among the pebbles; over a bank of soft, sun-warmed +snow, gnats danced in the sunset light; a few tree-buds had turned +sticky. + +Later, Vail came and built a bonfire; Farris arrived with tea baskets +full of old-fashioned things, such as turnovers and flip in stone jugs +of a century ago. + +Except for a word or two at intervals, Desboro had found no chance to +talk to Jacqueline. Now and then their glances encountered, lingered, +shifted, with scarcely a ghost of a smile in forced response to +importunities. So he had played an impartial game of hockey, skated with +any girl who seemed to be receptive, cut intricate figures with Mrs. +Hammerton in a cove covered with velvet-smooth black ice, superintended +the bonfire construction, directed Farris with the tea. + +Now, absently executing a "grape-vine," he was gliding along the outer +ranks of his guests with the mechanical patrolling instinct of a collie, +when Jacqueline detached herself from a fire-lit group and made him a +gay little sign to halt. + +Picking her way through the soft snow on the points of her skates, +she took to the ice and joined him. They linked hands and swung out into +the starlight. + +"Are you enjoying it?" he asked. + +"That's why I signalled you. I never have had such a good time. I wanted +you to know it." + +"You like my friends?" + +She looked up: "They are all so charming to me! I didn't expect people +to be cordial." + +"You need expect nothing else wherever you go and whomever you +meet--barring the inevitable which no attractive girl can avoid +arousing. Do you get on with Aunt Hannah?" + +She laughed: "Isn't it odd? _I_ call her that, too. She asked me to. And +do you know, she has been a perfect dear about everything. We shopped +together; I never had quite ventured to buy certain fascinating things +to wear. And we had such a good time lunching at the Ritz, where I had +never dared go. Such beautiful women! Such gowns! Such jewels!" + +They halted and looked back across the ice at the distant fire and the +dark forms moving about it. + +"You've bowled over every man here, as a matter of course," he said +lightly. "If you'll tell me how you like the women I'll know whether +they like you." + +"Oh, I like them; they are as nice to me as they are to each other!" she +exclaimed, "--except, perhaps, one or two----" + +"Marie Ledyard is hopelessly spoiled; Athalie Vannis is usually +discontented," he said philosophically. "Don't expect either of them to +give three cheers for another girl's popularity." + +They crossed hands and swept toward the centre of the pond on the "outer +edge." Jacqueline's skating skirt was short enough for her to manage a +"Dutch roll," steadied and guided by Desboro; then they exchanged it for +other figures, not intricate. + +"Your friend, Mr. Sissly, is dining with us," he observed. + +"He's really very nice," she said. "Just a little too--artistic--for +you, perhaps, and for the men here--except Captain Herrendene----" + +"Herrendene is a fine fellow," he said. + +"I like him so much," she admitted. + +He was silent for a moment, turned toward her as though to speak, but +evidently reconsidered the impulse. + +"He is not very young, is he?" she asked. + +"Herrendene? No." + +"I thought not. Sometimes in repose his face seems sad. But what kind +eyes he has!" + +"He's a fine fellow," said Desboro without emphasis. + +Before they came within the firelight, he asked her whether she had +really decided to give them a little lecture on jades and crystals; and +she said that she had. + +"It won't be too technical or too dry, I hope," she added laughingly. "I +told Captain Herrendene what I was going to say and do, and he liked the +idea." + +"Won't you tell me, too, Jacqueline?" + +"No, I want _you_ to be surprised. Besides, I haven't time; we've been +together too long already. Doesn't one's host have to be impartially +attentive? And I think that pretty little Miss Steyr is signalling you." + +Herrendene came out on the ice toward them: + +"The cars are here," he said, "and Mrs. Hammerton is cold." + +Dinner was an uproariously lively function, served amid a perfect +eruption of bewildering gowns and jewels and flowers. Desboro had never +before seen Jacqueline in a dinner gown, or even attempted to visualise +her beauty amid such surroundings in contrast with other women. + +She fitted exquisitely into the charming mosaic; from crown to toe she +was part of it, an essential factor that, once realised, became +indispensable to the harmony. + +Perhaps, he told himself, she did not really dominate with the fresh +delicacy of her beauty; perhaps it was only what he saw in her and what +he knew of her that made the others shadowy and commonplace to him. + +[Illustration: "In all the curious eyes turned toward her, he saw +admiration, willing or conceded."] + +Yet, in all the curious eyes repeatedly turned toward her, he saw +admiration, willing or conceded, recognised every unspoken tribute of +her own sex as well as the less reserved surrender of his; saw her +suddenly developed into a blossom of unabashed and youthful loveliness +under what she had once called "the warm sun of approval"; and sat in +vague and uneasy wonder, witnessing the transfiguration. + +Sissly was there, allotted to Katharine Frere; and that stately girl, +usually credited among her friends with artistic aspirations, apparently +found him interesting. + +So all went well enough, whether gaily or seriously, even with Aunt +Hannah, who had discovered under Desboro's smiling composure all kinds +of food for reflection and malicious diversion. + +For such a small party it was certainly a gay one--at least people were +beginning to think so half way through dinner--which merely meant that +everybody was being properly appreciated by everybody's neighbours, and +that made everybody feel unusually witty, and irrepressible, and a +little inclined to be silly toward the end. + +But then the after-dinner guests began to arrive--calm, perfectly poised +and substantial Westchester propositions who had been bidden to assist +at an unusual programme, and to dance afterward. + +The stodgy old house rang with chatter and laughter; hall, stairs, +library, and billiard-room resounded delightfully; you could scare up a +pretty girl from almost any cover--if you were gunning for that variety +of girl. + +Reggie Ledyard had managed to corner Jacqueline on the stairs, but +couldn't monopolise her nor protect himself against the shameless +intrusion of Cairns, who spoiled the game until Herrendene raided the +trio and carried her off to the billiard-room on a most flimsy pretext. + +Here, very properly, a Westchester youth of sterling worth got her away +and was making toward the library with her when Desboro unhooked a +hunting horn from the wall and filled the house with deafening blasts as +signal that the show was about to begin in the armoury. + +The armoury had been strung with incandescent lights, which played over +the huge mounted figures in mail, and glanced in a million reflections +from the weapons on the wall. A curtained and raised stage faced seats +for a hundred people, which filled the long, wide aisle between the +equestrian shapes; and into these the audience was pouring, excited and +mystified by the odd-looking and elaborate electrical attachments +flanking the stage in front of the curtained dressing-rooms. + +Jacqueline, passing Desboro, whispered: + +"I'm so thrilled and excited. I know people will find Mr. Sissly's +lecture interesting, but do you think they'll like mine?" + +"How do I know, you little villain? You've told Herrendene what you are +going to do, but you haven't given me even a hint!" + +"I know it; I wanted to--to please you--" Her light hand fell for a +moment on his sleeve, and he saw the blue eyes a little wistful. + +"You darling," he whispered. + +"Thank you. It isn't the proper thing to say to me--but I've quite +recovered my courage." + +"Have you quite recovered all the scattered fragments of your heart? I +am afraid some of these men may carry portions of it away with them." + +"I don't think so, monsieur. Really, I must hurry and dress----" + +"Dress?" + +"Certainly; also make up!" + +"But I thought you were to give us a little talk on Chinese jades." + +"But I must do it in my own way, Mr. Des----" + +"Wait!" They were in the rear of the dressing-room and he took her hand. + +"I call you Jacqueline, unreproved. Is my name more difficult for you?" + +"Do you wish me to? In cold blood?" + +"Not in cold blood." + +He took her into his arms; she bent her head gravely, but he felt her +restless fingers worrying his sleeve. + +"Jacqueline?" + +"Yes--Jim." + +The swift fire in his face answered the flush in hers; he drew her +nearer, but she averted her dainty head in silence and stood so, her +hand always restless on his arm. + +"You haven't changed toward me in these few weeks, have you, +Jacqueline?" + +"Do you think I have?" + +He was silent. After a moment she glanced up at him with adorable +shyness. He kissed her, but her lips were cold and unresponsive, and she +bent her head, still picking nervously at the cloth of his sleeve. + +"I _must_ go," she said. + +"I know it." He released her waist. + +She drew a quick, short breath and looked up smiling; then sighed again, +and once more her blue eyes became aloof and thoughtful. + +He stood leaning against the side of the dressing-room, watching her. + +Finally she said with composure: "I _must_ go. Please like what I shall +do. It will be done to please you--Jim." + +He opened the dressing-room door for her; she entered, turned to look +back at him for an instant, then closed the door. + +He went back to his place among the audience. + +A moment later a temple gong struck three times; the green curtains +parted, revealing a white screen, and Mr. Lionel Sissly advancing with a +skip to the footlights. The audience looked again at its programme cards +and again read: + +"No. 1: A Soundless Symphony ... Lionel Sissly." + +"Colour," lisped Mr. Sissly, "is not only precious for its own sake, +but also because it is the blessed transmogrification of sound. And +sound is sacred because all vibrations, audible or inaudible, are in +miraculous harmony with that holiest of all phenomena, silence!" + +"Help!" whispered Ledyard to Cairns, with resignation. + +"Any audible rate of regular air vibrations is a musical note," +continued Mr. Sissly. "If you double that vibratory speed, you have the +first note of the octave above it. Now, the spectrum band is the colour +counterpart of the musical octave; the ether vibrates with double the +speed at the _violet_ end of the spectrum band that it does at the +opposite extremity, or _red_ end. Let me show you the chromatic scales +in colour and music--the latter the equivalent of the former, revealing +how the intervals correspond when C represents red." And he flashed upon +the screen a series of brilliant colours. + +"Remember," he said, "that it is with colour as it is with sound--there +is a long range of vibrations below and above the first and last visible +colour and the first and last audible note--a long, long range beyond +compass of the human eye and ear. Probably the music of the spheres is +composed of such harmonies," he simpered. + +"Modern occidental music is evolved in conformity with an arbitrary +scale," he resumed earnestly. "An octave consists of seven whole tones +and five half-tones. Combinations and sequences of notes or tints affect +us emotionally--pleasurably when harmonious, painfully when discordant. +But," and his voice shook with soulful emotion, "the holiest and the +most precious alliance ever dreamed of beyond the Gates of Heaven lies +in the sacred intermingling of harmonious colour and harmonious +silence. Let me play for you, upon my colour organ, my soundless +symphony which I call 'Weather.' Always in the world there will be +weather. We have it constantly; there is so much of it that nobody knows +how much there is; and I do not see very clearly how there ever could be +any less than there is. Weather, then, being the only earthly condition +which is eternal, becomes precious beyond human comprehension; and I +have tried to interpret it as a symphony of silence and of colour +divinely intermingled." + +Ledyard whispered to Betty Barkley: "I'll go mad and bite if he says +another word!" + +She cautioned him with a light touch of her gloved hand, and strove very +hard to remain serious as Mr. Sissly minced over to his "organ," seated +himself, and gazed upward. + +All at once every light in the house went out. + +For a while the great screen remained invisible, then a faint sheen +possessed its surface, blotted out at eccentric intervals by a deep and +thunderous tint which finally absorbed it and slowly became a coldly +profound and depthless blue. + +The blue was not permanent; almost imperceptible pulsations were +stirring and modifying it toward a warmer and less decisive hue, and +through it throbbed and ebbed elusive sensations of palest turquoise, +primrose and shell-pink. This waned and deepened into a yellow which +threatened to become orange. + +Suddenly all was washed out in unaccented grey; the grey gradually +became instinct with rose and gold; the gold was split by a violet +streak; then virile scarlet tumbled through crashing scales of green, +amethyst, crimson, into a chaos of chromatic dissonance, and vanished +engulfed in shimmering darkness. + +The lights flashed up, disclosing Mr. Sissly, very pale and damp of +features, facing the footlights again. + +"That," he faltered, amid a stillness so profound that it seemed to fill +the ear like a hollow roar,--"that is weather. If you approve it, the +most precious expression of your sympathy will be absolute silence." + +Fortunately, not even Reggie Ledyard dropped. + +Mr. Sissly passed a lank and lily hand across his large pale eyes. + +"Like the Japanese," he lisped, "I bring to you my most precious +thought-treasures one at a time--and never more than two between the +rising of the orb of day and the veiling of it at eventide. I offer you, +on the altar of my colour organ, a transposition of Von Schwiggle's +symphony in A minor; and I can only say that it is replete with a +meaning so exquisitely precious that no human intelligence has yet +penetrated it." + +Out went the lights. Presently the screen became visible. Upon it there +seemed to be no colour, no hint of any tint, no quality, no value. It +was merely visible, and remained so for three mortal minutes. Then the +lights broke out, revealing Mr. Sissly half fainting at his organ, and +two young women in Greek robes waving bunches of violets at him. And the +curtain fell. + +"There only remains," whispered Ledyard, "the funny-house for me." + +"If you make me laugh I'll never forgive you," Mrs. Barkley warned him +under her breath. "But--oh, do look at Mrs. Hammerton!" + +Aunt Hannah's visage resembled that of a cornered and enraged mink +surrounded by enemies. + +"If that man comes near me," she said to Desboro, "I shall destroy him +with hatpins. You'd better keep him away. I'm morally and nervously +disorganised." + +Sissly had come off the stage and now stood in the wide aisle, +surrounded by the earnest and intellectual womanhood of Westchester, +eagerly seeking more light. + +But there was little in Mr. Sissly's large and washed-out eyes; even +less, perhaps, than illuminated his intellect. He gazed wanly upon +adoration, edging his way toward Miss Frere, who, at dinner, had rashly +admitted that she understood him. + +"Was it satisfying?" he lisped, when he had attained to her vicinity. + +"It was most--remarkable," she said, bewildered. "So absolutely new to +me that I can find nothing as yet to say to you, except thank you." + +"Why say it? Why not merely look it? Your silence would be very, very +precious to me," he said in a low voice. And the stately Miss Frere +blushed. + +The audience, under the stimulus of the lights, recovered very quickly +from its semi-stupor, and everybody was now discussing with animation +the unique experience of the past half-hour. New York chattered; +Westchester discussed; that was the difference. Both had expected a new +kind of cabaret show; neither had found the weird performance +disappointing. Flippant and unintellectual young men felt safe in the +certainty that neither their pretty partners nor the more serious +representatives of the substantial county knew one whit more about +soundless symphonies than did they. + +[Illustration: "She lost herself in a dreamy Bavarian folk-song"] + +So laughter and noise filled the armoury with a gaily subdued uproar, +silenced only when Katharine Frere's harp was brought in, and the tall, +handsome girl, without any preliminaries, went forward and seated +herself, drew the gilded instrument back against her right shoulder, set +her feet to the pedals, her fingers to the strings, and wandered +capriciously from _Le Donne Curiose_ and the far, brief echoes of its +barcarolle, into _Koenigskinder_, and on through _Versiegelt_, till she +lost herself in a dreamy Bavarian folk-song which died out as sunset +dies on the far alms of the Red Valepp. + +Great applause; no cabaret yet. The audience looked at the programme and +read: + +"A Thousand Years B.C. ... Miss Nevers." + +And Reggie Ledyard was becoming restless, thinking perhaps that a little +ragtime of the spheres might melt the rapidly forming intellectual ice, +and was saying so to anybody who'd listen, when ding-dong-dang! +ding-dong! echoed the oriental gong. Out went the lights, the curtain +split open and was gathered at the wings; a shimmering radiance grew +upon the stage disclosing a huge gold and green dragon of porcelain on +its faïence pedestal. And there, high cradled between the forepaws of +the ancient Mongolian monster, sat a slim figure in silken robes of +turquoise, rose, and scarlet, a Chinese lute across her knees, slim feet +pendant below the rainbow skirt. + +Her head-dress was wrought fantastically of open-work gold, inlaid with +a thousand tiny metallic blue feathers, accented by fiery gems; across +the silky folds of her slitted tunic were embroidered in iris tints the +single-winged birds whirling around each other between floating clouds; +little clog-like shoes of silk and gold, embroidered with moss-green +arabesques inset with orange and scarlet, shod the feet. + +Ancient Cathay, exquisitely, immortally young, sat in jewelled silks and +flowers under the huge and snarling dragon. And presently, string by +string, her idle lute awoke, picked with the plectrum, note after note +in strange and unfamiliar intervals; and, looking straight in front of +her, she sang at random, to "the sorrows of her lute," verses from "The +Maker of Moons," sung by Chinese lovers a thousand years ago: + + "Like to a Dragon in the Sky + The fierce Sun flames from East to West; + The flower of Love within my breast + Blooms only when the Moon is high + And Thou art nigh." + +The dropping notes of her lute answered her, rippled on, and were lost +like a little rill trickling into darkness. + + "The Day burns like a Dragon's flight + Until Thou comest in the night + With thy cool Moon of gold-- + Then I unfold." + +A faint stirring of the strings, silence; then she struck with her +plectrum the weird opening chord of that sixth century song called "The +Night Revel"; and sang to the end the ancient verses set to modern music +by an unknown composer: + + "Along the River scarlet Lanterns glimmer, + Where gilded Boats and darkling Waters shimmer; + Laughter with Singing blends; + But Love begins and ends + Forever with a sigh-- + A whispered sigh. + + "In fire-lit pools the crimson Carp are swirling; + The painted peacocks shining plumes are furling; + Now in the torch-light by the Gate + A thousand Lutes begin the Fête + With one triumphant Cry! + Why should Love sigh?" + +The curtain slowly closed on the echoes of her lute; there came an +interval of absolute silence, then an uproar of cries and of people +getting to their feet, calling out: "Go on! Go on! Don't stop!" No +applause except this excited clamour for more, and the racket of moving +chairs. + +"Good Lord!" muttered Captain Herrendene. "Did you ever see anything as +beautiful as that girl?" + +And: "Where did she learn such things?" demanded people excitedly of one +another. "It must be the real business! How does she know?" + +The noise became louder and more emphatic; calls for her reappearance +redoubled and persisted until the gong again sounded, the lights went +out, and the curtains twitched once more and parted. + +She slid down from her cradled perch between the forelegs of the shadowy +dragon and came to the edge of the footlights. + +"I was going to show you one or two jades from the Desboro collection, +and tell you a little about them," she began, "but my lute and I will +say for you another song of ancient China, if you like. It was made by +Kao-Shih about seven hundred years after the birth of Christ. He was one +of the T'ang poets--and not a very cheerful one. This is his song." + +And she recited for them: "There was a king of Liang." + +After that she stepped back; but they would not have it, to the point of +enthusiastic rudeness. + +She recited for them Mêng Hao-Jan's "A Friend Expected," from "The Maker +of Moons," and the quatrains of the lovely, naïve little "Spring Dream," +written by Ts'en-Ts'an in the eighth century. + +But they demanded still more. She laid aside her lute and intoned for +them the noble lines of China's most famous writer: + + "Thou that hast seen six kingdoms pass away----" + +Then, warming to her audience, and herself thrilled with the spirit of +the ancient splendour, she moved forward in her whispering silks, and, +slightly bending, her finger lifted like one who hushes children with a +magic tale, she spoke to them of Fei-yen, mistress of the Emperor; and +told them how T'ai-Chên became an empress; sang for them the song of Yu +Lao, the "Song of the Moon Moth": + + "The great Night Moth that bears her name + Is winged in green, + Pale as the June moon's silver flame + Her silken sheen: + No other flame they know, these twain + Where dark dews rain-- + This great Night Moth that bears her name + And my sweet Queen; + So let me light my Lantern flame + And breathe Her name." + +She held her audience in the palm of her smooth little hand; she knew +it, and tasted power. She told them of the Blue Mongol's song, +reciting: + + "From the Gray Plains I ride, + Where the gray hawks wheel, + In armour of lacquered hide, + Sabre and shield of steel; + The lance in my stirrup rattles, + And the quiver and bow at my back + Clatter! I sing of Battles, + Of Cities put to the sack! + Where is the Lord of the West, + The Golden Emperor's son? + I swung my Mongol sabre;-- + He and the Dead are one. + For the tawny Lion of the Iort + And the Sun of the World are One!" + +Then she told them the old Chinese tale called "The Never-Ending +Wrong"--the immortal tragedy of that immortal maid, "a reed in motion +and a rose in flame," from where she alights "in the white hibiscus +bower" to where "death is drumming at the door" and "ten thousand +battle-chariots on the wing" come clashing to a halt; and the trapped +King, her lover, sends her forth + + "Lily pale, + Between tall avenues of spears, to die." + +And so, amid "the sullen soldiery," white as a flower, and all alone in +soul, she "shines through tall avenues of spears, to die." + +"The King has sought the darkness of his hands," standing in stricken +grief, then turns and gazes at what lies there at his feet amid its +scattered + + + "--_Ornaments of gold,_ + _One with the dust; and none to gather them;--_ + _Hair-pins of jade and many a costly gem,_ + _Kingfishers' wings and golden beads scarce cold._" + +Lingering a moment in the faint reflection of the low-turned footlights, +she stood looking out over the silent audience; and perhaps her eyes +found what they had been seeking, for she smiled and stepped back as the +curtain closed. And no uproar of applause could lure her forth again +until the lights had been long blazing and the dancers were whirling +over the armoury floor, and she had washed the paint from lid and lip +and cheek, and put off her rustling antique silken splendour to bewitch +another century scarce begun. + +Desboro, waiting at her dressing-room door for her, led her forth. + +"You have done so much for me," he whispered. "Is there anything in all +the world I can do for you, Jacqueline?" + +She was laughing, flushed by the flattery and compliments from every +side, but she heard him; and after a moment her face altered subtly. But +she answered lightly: + +"Can I ask for more than a dance or two with you? Is not that honour +enough?" Her voice was gay and mocking, but the smile had faded from eye +and lip; only the curved sweetness of the mouth remained. + +They caught the music's beat and swung away together among the other +dancers, he piloting her with great adroitness between the avenues of +armoured figures. + +When he had the opportunity, he said: "What may I send you that you +would care for?" + +"Send me?" She laughed lightly again. "Let me see! Well, then, perhaps +you may one day send me--send me forth 'between tall avenues of spears, +to die.'" + +"What!" he said sharply. + +"The song is still ringing in my head--that's all. Send me any +inexpensive thing you wish--a white carnation--I don't really care--" +she looked away from him--"as long as it comes from you." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Desboro's guests were determined to turn the house out of the windows; +its stodgy respectability incited them; every smug, smooth portrait +goaded them to unusual effort, and they racked their brains to invent +novelties. + +On one day they opened all the windows in the disused west wing, flooded +the ground floor, hung the great stone room with paper lanterns, and +held an ice carnival. As masks and costumes had been made entirely out +of paper, there were several startling effects and abrupt retirements to +repair damages; but the dancing on skates in the lantern light was very +pretty, and even the youth and pride of Westchester found the pace not +unsuitably rapid. + +On another day, Desboro's feminine guests sent to town for enough green +flannel to construct caricatures of hunting coats for everybody. + +The remains of a stagnant pack of harriers vegetated on a neighbouring +estate; Desboro managed to mount his guests on his own live-stock, +including mules, farm horses, polo ponies, and a yoke of oxen; and the +county saw a hunting that they were not likely to forget. + +Reggie Ledyard was magnificent astride an ox, with a paper megaphone for +a hunting horn, rubber boots, and his hastily basted coat split from +skirt to collar. The harriers ran wherever they pleased, and the +astonished farm mules wouldn't run at all. There was hysterical +excitement when one cotton-tail rabbit was started behind a barn and +instantly lost under it. + +The hunt dinner was a weird and deafening affair, and the Weber-Field +ball costumes unbelievable. + +Owing to reaction and exhaustion, repentant girls came to Jacqueline +requesting an interim of intellectual recuperation; so she obligingly +announced a lecture in the jade room, and talked to them very prettily +about jades and porcelains, suiting her words to their intellectual +capacity, which could grasp Kang-he porcelains and Celedon and +Sang-de-boeuf, but balked at the "three religions," and found _blanc +de Chine_ uninspiring. So she told them about the _famille vert_ and the +_famille rose_; about the K'ang Hsi period, which they liked, and how +the imperial kilns at Kiangsi developed the wonderful _clair de lune_ +"turquoise blue" and "peach bloom," for which some of their friends or +relatives had paid through their various and assorted noses. + +All of this her audience found interesting because they recognised in +the exquisite examples from Desboro's collection, with which Jacqueline +illustrated her impromptu lecture, objects both fashionable and +expensive; and what is both fashionable and expensive appeals very +forcibly to mediocrity. + +"I saw a jar like that one at the Clydesdales'," said Reggie Ledyard, a +trifle excited at his own unexpected intelligence. "How much is it +worth, Miss Nevers?" + +She laughed and looked at the vase between her slender fingers. + +"Really," she said, "it isn't worth very much. But wealthy people have +established fictitious values for many rather crude and commonplace +things. If people had the courage to buy only what appealed to them +personally, there would be a mighty crash in tumbling values." + +"We'd all wake up and find ourselves stuck," remarked Van Alstyne, who +possessed some pictures which he had come to loathe, but for which he +had paid terrific prices. "Jim, do you want to buy any primitives, +guaranteed genuine?" + +"There's the thrifty Dutch trader for you," said Reggie. "I'm loaded +with rickety old furniture, too. They got me to furnish my place with +antiques! But you don't see me trying to sell 'em to my host at a house +party!" + +"Stop your disputing," said Desboro pleasantly, "and ask Miss Nevers for +her professional opinion later. The chances are that you both have been +properly stuck, and I never had any sympathy for wealthy ignorance, +anyway." + +But Ledyard and Van Alstyne, being very wealthy, became frightfully +depressed over the unfeeling jibes of Desboro; and Jacqueline seemed to +be by way of acquiring a pair of new clients. + +In fact, both young men at various moments approached her on the +subject, but Desboro informed them that they might with equal propriety +ask a physician to prescribe for them at a dance, and that Miss Nevers' +office was open from nine until five. + +"Gad," remarked Ledyard to Van Alstyne, with increasing respect, "she is +some girl, believe _me_, Stuyve. Only if she ever married up with a man +of our kind--good-night! She'd quit him in a week." + +Van Alstyne touched his forehead significantly. + +"Sure," he said. "Nothing doing _inside_ our conks. But why the Lord +made her such a peach outside as well as inside is driving me to +Jersey! Most of 'em are so awful to look at, don't y'know. Come on, +anyway. _I_ can't keep away from her." + +"She's somewhere with the others playing baseball golf," said Reggie, +gloomily, following his friend. "Isn't it terrible to see a girl in the +world like that--apparently created to make some good gink happy--and +suddenly find out that she has even more brains than beauty! My God, +Stuyve, it's hard on a man like me." + +"Are you really hard hit?" + +"_Am_ I? And how about you?" + +"It's the real thing here," admitted Van Alstyne. "But what's the use?" + +They agreed that there was no use; but during the dance that evening +both young men managed to make their intentions clear to Jacqueline. + +Reggie Ledyard had persuaded her to a few minutes' promenade in the +greenhouse; and there, standing amid thickets of spicy carnations, the +girl listened to her first proposal from a man of that outer world about +which, until a few days ago, she had known nothing. + +The boy was not eloquent; he made a clumsy attempt to kiss her and was +defeated. He seemed to her very big, and blond, and handsome as he stood +there; and she felt a little pity for him, too, partly because his ideas +were so few and his vocabulary so limited. + +Perplexed, silent, sorry for him, yet still conscious of a little thrill +of wonder and content that a man of the outer world had found her +eligible, she debated within herself how best to spare him. And, as +usual, the truth presented itself to her as the only explanation. + +"You see," she said, lifting her troubled eyes, "I am in love with some +one else." + +"Good God!" he muttered. After a silence he said humbly: "Would it be +unpardonable if I--_would_ you tell me whether you are engaged?" + +She blushed with surprise at the idea. + +"Oh, no," she said, startled. "I--don't expect to be." + +"What?" he exclaimed incredulously. "Is there a man on earth ass enough +not to fall in love with you if you ever condescended to smile at him +twice?" + +But the ideas which he was evoking seemed to distress her, and she +averted her face and stood twisting a long-stemmed carnation with +nervous fingers. + +Not even to herself, either before or since Desboro's letter which had +revealed him so unmistakably, had the girl ventured in her inmost +thoughts to think the things which this big, blond, loutish boy had +babbled. + +What Desboro was, she understood. She had had the choice of dismissing +him from her mind, with scorn and outraged pride as aids to help the +sacrifice, or of accepting him as he was--as she knew him to be--for the +sake of something about him as yet inexplicable even to herself. + +And she had chosen. + +But now a man of Desboro's world had asked her to be his wife. More than +that; he had assumed that she was fitted to be the wife of anybody. + + * * * * * + +They walked back together. She was adorable with him, kind, timidly +sympathetic and smilingly silent by turns, venturing even to rally him a +little, console him a little, moved by an impulse toward friendship +wholly unfeigned. + +"All I have to say is," he muttered, "that you're a peach and a corker; +and I'm going to invent some way of marrying you, even if it lands me in +an East Side night-school." + +Even he joined in her gay laughter; and presently Van Alstyne, who had +been glowering at them, managed to get her away. But she would have +nothing further to do with greenhouses, or dark landings, or libraries; +so he asked her bluntly while they were dancing; and she shook her head, +and very soon dropped his arm. + +There was a bay-window near them; she made a slight gesture of +irritation; and there, in the partly curtained seclusion, he learned +that she was grateful and happy that he liked her so much; that she +liked him very much, but that she loved somebody else. + +He took it rather badly at first; she began to understand that few girls +would have lightly declined a Van Alstyne; and he was inclined to be +patronising, sulky and dignified--an impossible combination--for it +ditched him finally, and left him kissing her hands and declaring +constancy eternal. + +That night, at parting, Desboro retained her offered hand a trifle +longer than convention required, and looked at her more curiously than +usual. + +"Are you enjoying the party, Jacqueline?" + +"Every minute of it. I have never been as happy." + +"I suppose you realise that everybody is quite mad about you." + +"Everybody is nice to me! People are so much kinder than I imagined." + +"Are they? How do you get on with the gorgon?" + +"Mrs. Hammerton? Do you know she is perfectly sweet? I never dreamed she +could be so gentle and thoughtful and considerate. Why--and it seems +almost ridiculous to say it--she seems to have the ideas of a mother +about whatever concerns me. She actually fusses over me +sometimes--and--it is--agreeable." + +An inexplicable shyness suddenly overcame her, and she said good-night +hastily, and mounted the stairs to her room. + +Later, when she was prepared for bed, Mrs. Hammerton knocked and came +in. + +"Jacqueline," she said bluntly, "what was Reggie Ledyard saying to you +this evening? I'll box his ears if he proposed to you. Did he?" + +"I--I am afraid he did." + +"You didn't take him?" + +"No." + +"I should think not! I'd as soon expect you to marry a stable groom. He +has all the beauty and healthy colour of one. Also the distinguished +mental capacity. You don't want that kind." + +"I don't want any kind." + +"I'm glad of it. Did any other fool hint anything more of that sort?" + +"Mr. Van Alstyne." + +"Oho! Stuyvesant, too? Well, what did you say to _him_?" asked the old +lady, with animation. + +"I said no." + +"What?" + +"Of course, I said no. I am not in love with Mr. Van Alstyne." + +"Child! Do you realise that you had the opportunity of your life!" + +Jacqueline's smile was confused and deprecating. + +"But when a girl doesn't care for a man----" + +"Do you mean to marry for _love_?" + +The girl sat silent a moment, then shook her head. + +"I shall not marry," she said. + +"Nonsense! And if you feel that way, what am I good for? What earthly +use am I to you? Will you kindly inform me?" + +She had seated herself on the bed's edge, leaning over the girl where +she lay on her pillows. + +"Answer me," she insisted. "Of what use am I to you?" + +For a full minute the girl lay there looking up at her without stirring. +Then a smile glimmered in her eyes; she lifted both arms and laid them +on the older woman's shoulders. + +"You are useful--this way," she said; and kissed her lightly on the +forehead. + +The effect on Aunt Hannah was abrupt; she caught the girl to her breast +and held her there fiercely and in silence for a moment; then, releasing +her, tucked her in with mute violence, turned off the light and marched +out without a word. + + * * * * * + +Day after day Desboro's guests continued to turn the house inside out, +ransacking it from garret to cellar. + +"We don't intend to do anything in this house that anybody has ever done +here, or at any house party," explained Reggie Ledyard to Jacqueline. +"So if any lady cares to walk down stairs on her head the incident will +be quite in order." + +"Can she slide down the banisters instead?" asked Helsa Steyr. + +"Oh, you'll have to slide up to be original," said Betty Barkley. + +"How can anybody slide _up_ the banisters?" demanded Reggie hotly. + +"You've the intellect of a terrapin," said Betty scornfully. "It's +because nobody has ever done it that it ought to be done here." + +Desboro, seated on the pool table, told her she could do whatever she +desired, including arson, as long as she didn't disturb the Aqueduct +Police. + +Katharine Frere said to Jacqueline: "Everything you do is so original. +Can't you invent something new for us to do?" + +"She might suggest that you all try to think," said Mrs. Hammerton +tartly. "That would be novelty enough." + +Cairns seized the megaphone and shouted: "Help! Help! Aunt Hannah is +after us!" + +Captain Herrendene, seated beside Desboro with a half smile on his face, +glanced across at Jacqueline who stood in the embrasure of a window, a +billiard cue resting across her shoulders. + +"Please invent something for us, Miss Nevers," he said. + +"Why don't you play hide and seek?" sneered Mrs. Hammerton, busily +knitting a tie. "It's suited to your intellects." + +"Let Miss Nevers suggest a new way of playing the oldest game ever +invented," added Betty Barkley. "There is no possibility of inventing +anything new; everything was first done in the year one. Even +protoplasmic cells played hide-and-seek together." + +"What rot!" said Reggie. "You can't play that in a new way." + +"You could play it in a sporting way," said Cairns. + +"How's that, old top?" + +"Well, for example, you conceal yourself, and whatever girl finds you +has got to marry you. How's that for a reckless suggestion?" + +But it had given Reggie something resembling an idea. + +"Let us be hot sports," he said, with animation; "draw lots to see which +girl will hide somewhere in the house; make a time-limit of one hour; +and if any man finds her she'll marry him. There isn't a girl here," he +added, jeeringly, "who has the sporting nerve to try it!" + +A chorus of protests greeted the challenge. Athalie Vannis declared that +she was crazy to marry somebody; but she insisted that the men would +only pretend to search, and were really too cowardly to hunt in earnest. +Cairns retorted that the girl in concealment would never permit a real +live man to miss her hiding place while she possessed lungs to reveal +it. + +"There isn't," repeated Reggie, "a girl who has the nerve! Not one!" He +inspected them scornfully through the wrong end of the megaphone. "Phony +sports," he added. "No nerves and all fidgets. Look at me; _I_ don't +want to get married; but I'm game for an hour. There isn't a girl here +to call my bluff!" And he ventured to glance at Jacqueline. + +"They've had a chance to look at you by daylight, Reggie, and that is +fatal," said Cairns. "Now, if they were only sure that I'd discover +'em, or the god-like captain yonder, or the beautiful Mr. Desboro----" + +"I've half a mind to do it," said Helsa Steyr. "Marie, will you draw +lots to see who hides?" + +"Why doesn't a man hide?" drawled Miss Ledyard. "I'm very sure I could +drag him to the altar in ten minutes." + +Cairns had found a sheet of paper, torn it into slips, and written down +every woman's name, including Aunt Hannah's. + +"She's retired to her room in disgust," said Jacqueline, laughing. + +"Is _she_ included?" faltered Reggie. + +"You've brought it on yourself," said Cairns. "Are you going to renig +just because Aunt Hannah is a possible prize? Are you really a tin +sport?" + +"No, by heck! Come on, Katharine!" to Miss Frere. "But Betty Barkley +can't figure in this, or there may be bigamy done." + +"That makes it a better sporting proposition," said Betty coolly. "I +insist on figuring; Bertie can take his chances." + +"Then I'm jingled if I don't play, too," said Barkley. "And I'm not sure +I'll hunt very hard if it's Betty who hides." + +The pretty little woman turned up her nose at her husband and sent a +dazzling smile at Desboro. + +"I'll whistle three times, like the daughter in the poem," she said. +"Please beat my husband to it." + +Cairns waved the pool basket aloft: "Come ladies!" he cried. "Somebody +reach up and draw; and may heaven smile upon your wedding day!" + +Betty Barkley, standing on tip-toe, reached up, stirred the folded +ballots with tentative fingers, grasped one, drew it forth, and +flourished it. + +"Goodness! How my heart really beats!" she said. "I don't know whether I +want to open it or not. I hadn't contemplated bigamy." + +"If it's my name, I'm done for," said Katharine Frere calmly. "I'm +nearly six feet, and I can't conceal them all." + +"Open it," said Athalie Vannis, with a shiver. "After all there's the +divorce court!" And she looked defiantly at Cairns. + +Betty turned over the ballot between forefinger and thumb and regarded +it with dainty aversion. + +"Well," she said, "if I'm in for a scandal, I might as well know it. +Will you be kind to me, Jim, and not flirt with my maid?" + +She opened the ballot, examined the name written there, turned and +passed it to Jacqueline, who flushed brightly as a delighted shout +greeted her. + +"The question is," said Reggie Ledyard excitedly, "are you a sport, Miss +Nevers, or are you not? Kindly answer with appropriate gestures." + +The girl stood with her golden head drooping, staring at the bit of +paper in her hand; then, as Desboro watched her, she glanced up with +that sudden, reckless smile which he had seen once before--the first day +he met her--and made a gay little gesture of acceptance. + +"You're not really going to do it, are you?" said Betty, incredulously. +"You don't have to; they're every one of them short sports themselves!" + +"_I_ am not," said Jacqueline, smiling. + +"But," argued Katharine Frere, "suppose Reggie should find you. You'd +never marry _him_, would you?" + +"Great Heavens!" shouted Ledyard. "She might have a worse fate. There's +Desboro!" + +"You don't really mean it, do you, Miss Nevers?" asked Captain +Herrendene. + +"Yes, I do," said Jacqueline. "I always was a gambler by nature." + +The tint of excitement was bright on her cheeks; she shot a daring +glance at Ledyard, looked at Van Alstyne and laughed, but her back +remained turned toward Desboro. + +He said: "If the papers ever get wind of this they'll print it as a +serious item." + +"I _am_ perfectly serious," she said, looking coolly at him over her +shoulder. "If there is a man here clever enough to find me, I'll marry +him in a minute. But"--and she laughed in Desboro's face--"there isn't. +So nobody need really lose one moment in anxiety. And if a girl finds me +it's all off, of course. May I have twenty minutes? And will you time +me, Mr. Ledyard? And will you all remain in this room with the door +closed?" + +"If nobody finds you," cried Cairns, as she crossed the threshold, "we +each forfeit whatever you ask of us?" + +She paused at the door, looking back: "Is that understood?" + +Everybody cried: "Yes! Certainly!" + +She nodded and disappeared. + +For twenty minutes they waited; then, as Reggie closed his watch, a +general stampede ensued. Amazed servants shrank aside as Cairns, blowing +fearful blasts on the megaphone, cheered on the excited human pack; +everywhere Desboro's cats and dogs fled before the invasion; room after +room was ransacked, maids routed, butler and valet defied. Even Aunt +Hannah's sanctuary was menaced until that lady sat up on her bed and +swore steadily at Ledyard, who had scaled the transom. + +Desboro, hunting by himself, entered the armoury, looked suspiciously at +the armoured figures, shook a few, opened the vizors of others, and +peered at the painted faces inside the helmets. + +Others joined him, prying curiously, gathering in groups amid the +motionless army of mailed men. Then, as more than half of the allotted +hour had already expired, Ledyard suggested an attic party, where trunks +full of early XIXth century clothing might be rifled with pleasing +results. + +"We may find her up there in a chest, like the celebrated bride," +remarked Aunt Hannah, who had reappeared from her retreat. "It's the +lesser of several tragedies that might happen," she added insolently, to +Desboro. + +"To the attic!" thundered Cairns through his megaphone; and they +started. + +But Desboro still lingered at the armoury door, looking back. The noise +of the chase died away in the interior of the main house; the armoury +became very still under the flood of pale winter sunshine. + +He glanced along the steel ranks of men-at-arms; he looked up at the +stately mounted figures; dazzling sunlight glittered over helmet and +cuirass and across the armoured flanks of horses. + +Could it be possible that she was seated up there, hidden inside some +suit of blazing mail, astride a battle-horse? + +Cautiously he came back, skirting the magnificent and motionless ranks, +hesitated and halted. + +Of course the whole thing had been proposed and accepted in jest; he +told himself that. And yet--if some other man did discover her--the +foundation of the jest might serve for a more permanent understanding. +He didn't want her to have any intimate understanding with anybody until +he and she understood each other, and he understood himself. + +He didn't want another man to find and claim the forfeit, even in jest, +because he didn't know what might happen. No man was ever qualified to +foretell what another man might do; and men already were behaving toward +her with a persistency and seriousness unmistakable--men like +Herrendene, who meant what he looked and said; and young Hammerton, +Daisy's brother, eager, inexperienced and susceptible; and Bertie +Barkley, a little, hard-faced snob, with an unerring instinct for +anybody who promised to be popular among desirable people, was beginning +to test her metal with the acid of his experience. + +Desboro stood quite still, looking almost warily about him and thinking +faster and faster, trying to recollect who it was who had dragged in the +silly subject of marriage. That blond and hulking ass Ledyard, wasn't +it? + +He began to walk, slowly passing the horsemen in review. + +Suppose a blond animal like Reggie Ledyard offered himself in earnest. +Was she the kind of girl who would nail the worldly opportunity? And +Herrendene--that quiet, self-contained, keen-eyed man of forty-five. You +could never tell what Herrendene was thinking about anything, or what he +was capable of doing. And his admiration for Jacqueline was +undisguised, and his attentions frankly persistent. Last night, too, +when they were coasting under the new moon, there was half an hour's +disappearance for which neither Herrendene nor Jacqueline had even +pretended to account, though bantered and challenged--to Desboro's vague +discomfort. And the incident had left Desboro a trifle cool toward her +that morning; and she had pretended not to be aware of the slight +constraint between them, which made him sulky. + + * * * * * + +He had reached the end of the double lane of horsemen. Now he pivoted +and retraced his steps, hands clasped behind his back, absently scanning +the men-at-arms, preoccupied with his own reflections. + +How seriously had she taken the rôle she was playing somewhere at that +moment? Only fools accepted actual hazards when dared. He himself was +apt to be that kind of a fool. Was _she_? Would she really have abided +by the terms if discovered by Herrendene, for example, or Dicky +Hammerton--if they were mad enough to take it seriously? + +He thought of that sudden and delicious flash of recklessness in her +eyes. He had seen it twice now. + +"By God!" he thought. "I believe she would! She is the sort that sees a +thing through to the bitter end." + +He glanced up, startled, as though something, somewhere in the vast, +silent place, had moved. But he heard nothing, and there was no movement +anywhere among the armoured effigies. + +Suppose she were here hidden somewhere within a hollow suit of steel. +She must be! Else why was he lingering? Why was he not hunting her with +the pack? And still, if she actually were here, why was he not +searching for her under every suit of sunlit mail? Could it be because +he did not really _want_ to find her--with this silly jest of marriage +dragged in--a thing not to be mentioned between her and him even in +jest? + +Was it that he had become convinced in his heart that she must be here, +and was he merely standing guard like a jealous, sullen dog, watching +lest some other fool come blundering back from a false trail to discover +the right one--and perhaps her? + +Suddenly, without reason, he became certain that she and he were there +in the armoury alone together. He knew it somehow, felt it, divined it +in every quickening pulse beat. + +He heard the preliminary click of the armoury clock, indicating five +minutes' grace before the hour struck. He looked up at the old dial, +where it was set against the wall--an ancient piece in azure and gold +under a foliated crest borne by some long dead dignitary. + +Four more minutes now. And suppose she should stir in her place, setting +her harness clashing? Had the thought of marrying him ever entered her +head? Was it in such a girl to challenge the possibility, make it as +near a serious question as it ever could be? It had never existed for +them, even as a question. It was not a dead issue, because it had never +lived. If she made one movement now, if she so much as lifted her +finger, this occult thing would be alive. He knew it--knew that it lay +with her; and stood silent, unstirring, listening for the slightest +sound. There was no sound. + +It lacked now only a minute to the hour. He looked at the face of the +lofty clock; and, looking, all in a moment it flashed upon him where she +was concealed. + +Wheeling in his tracks, on the impulse of the moment he walked straight +back to the great painted wooden charger, sheathed in steel and cloth of +gold, bearing on high a slender, mounted figure in full armour--the +dainty Milanese mail Of the Countess of Oroposa. + +The superb young figure sat its saddle, hollow backed, graceful, both +delicate gauntlets resting easily over the war-bridle on the gem-set +pommel. Sunbeams turned the long spurs to two golden flames, and +splintered into fire across the helmet's splendid crest. He could not +pierce the dusk behind the closed vizor; but in every heart-beat, every +nerve, he felt her living presence within that hollow shell of inlaid +steel and gold. + +For a moment he stood staring up at her, then glanced mechanically +toward the high clock. Thirty seconds! Time to speak if he would; time +for her to move, if in her heart there ever had been the thought which +he had never uttered, never meant to voice. Twenty seconds! Through that +slitted vizor, also, the clock was in full view. She could read the +flight of time as well as he. Now she must move--if ever she meant to +challenge in him that to which he never would respond. + +He waited now, looking at the clock, now at the still figure above him. +Ten seconds! Five! + +"Jacqueline!" he cried impulsively. + +There was no movement, no answer from the slitted helmet. + +"Jacqueline! Are you there?" + +No sound. + +Then the lofty gold and azure clock struck. And when the last of the +twelve resounding strokes rang echoing through the sunlit armoury, the +mailed figure stirred in its saddle, stretched both stirrups, raised its +arms and flexed them. + +"You nearly caught me," she said calmly. "I was afraid you'd see my eyes +through the helmet slits. Was it your lack of enterprise that saved +me--or your prudence?" + +"I spoke to you before the hour was up. It seems to me that I _have_ +won." + +"Not at all. You might just as well have stood in the cellar and howled +my name. That isn't discovering me, you know." + +"I felt in my heart that you were there," he said, in a low voice. + +She laughed. "What a man feels in his heart doesn't count. Do you +realise that I'm nearly dead sitting for an hour here? This helmet is +abominably hot! How in the world could that poor countess have stood +it?" + +"Shall I climb up beside you and unlace your helmet?" he asked. + +"No, thank you. Mrs. Quant will get me out of it." She rose in the +stirrups, swung one steel-shod leg over, and leaped to the floor beside +him, clashing from crest to spur. + +"What a silly game it was, anyway!" she commented, lifting her vizor and +lowering the beaver. Her face was deliciously flushed, and the gold hair +straggled across her cheeks. + +"It's quite wonderful how the armour of the countess fits me," she said. +"I wonder what she looked like. I'll wager, anyway, that she never +played as risky a game in her armour as I have played this morning." + +"You didn't really mean to abide by the decision, did you?" he asked. + +"Do you think I did?" + +"No, of course not." + +She smiled. "Perhaps you are correct. But I've always been afraid I'd do +something radical and irrevocable, and live out life in misery to pay +for it. Probably I wouldn't. I _must_ take off these gauntlets, anyway. +Thank you"--as he relieved her of them and tossed them under the feet of +the wooden horse. + +"Last Thursday," he said, "you fascinated everybody with your lute and +your Chinese robes. Heaven help the men when they see you in armour! +I'll perform my act of fealty now." And he lifted her hands and kissed +them lightly where the gauntlets had left pink imprints on the smooth +white skin. + +As always when he touched her, she became silent; and, as always, he +seemed to divine the instant change in her to unresponsiveness under +physical contact. It was not resistance, it was a sort of inertia--an +endurance which seemed to stir in him a subtle brutality, awaking depths +which must not be troubled--unless he meant to cut his cables once for +all and drift headlong toward the rocks of chance. + +"You and Herrendene behaved shockingly last night," he said lightly. +"Where on earth did you go?" + +"Is it to you that I must whisper 'je m'accuse'?" she asked smilingly. + +"To whom if not to me, Jacqueline?" + +"Please--and what exactly then may be your status? Don't answer," she +added, flushing scarlet. "I didn't mean to say that. Because I know what +is your status with me." + +"How do you know?" + +"You once made it clear to me, and I decided that your friendship was +worth everything to me--whatever you yourself might be." + +"Whatever _I_ might be?" he repeated, reddening. + +"Yes. You are what you are--what you wrote me you were. I understood +you. But--do you notice that it has made any difference in my +friendship? Because it has not." + +The dull colour deepened over his face. They were standing near the +closed door now; she laid one hand on the knob, then ventured to raise +her eyes. + +"It has made no difference," she repeated. "Please don't think it has." + +His arms had imprisoned her waist; she dropped her head and her hand +slipped from the knob of the great oak door as he drew her toward him. + +"In armour!" she protested, trying to speak lightly, but avoiding his +eyes. + +"Is that anything new?" he said. "You are always instantly in armour +when my lightest touch falls on you. Why?" + +He lifted her drooping head until it rested against his arm. + +"Isn't it anything at all to you when I kiss you?" he asked unsteadily. + +She did not answer. + +"Isn't it, Jacqueline?" + +But she only closed her eyes, and her lips remained coldly unresponsive +to his. + +After a moment he said: "Can't you care for me at all--in this way? +Answer me!" + +"I--care for you." + +"_This_ way?" + +Over her closed lids a tremor passed, scarcely perceptible. + +"Don't you know how--how deeply I--care for you?" he managed to say, +feeling prudence and discretion violently tugging at their cables. +"Don't you _know_ it, Jacqueline?" + +"Yes. I know you--care for me." + +"Good God!" he said, trying to choke back the very words he uttered. +"Can't you respond--when you know I find you so adorable! When--when you +must know that I love you! Isn't there anything in you to respond?" + +"I--care for you. If I did not, could I endure--what you do?" + +A sort of blind passion seized and possessed him; he kissed again and +again the fragrant, unresponsive lips. Presently she lifted her head, +loosened his clasp at her waist, stepped clear of the circle of his +arms. + +"You see," she managed to say calmly, "that I do care for you. So--may I +go now?" + +He opened the door for her and they moved slowly out into the hall. + +"You do not show that you care very much, Jacqueline." + +"How can a girl show it more honestly? Could you tell me?" + +"I have never stirred you to any tenderness--never!" + +She moved beside him with head lowered, hands resting on her plated +hips, the bright hair in disorder across her cheeks. Presently she said +in a low voice: + +"I wish you could see into my heart." + +"I wish I could! And I wish you could see into mine. That would settle +it one way or another!" + +"No," she said, "because I _can_ see into your heart. And it settles +nothing for me--except that I would like to--remain." + +"Remain? Where?" + +"There--in your heart." + +He strove to speak coolly: "Then you _can_ see into it?" + +"Yes." + +"And you know that you are there alone?" + +"Yes--I think so." + +"And now that you have looked into it and know what is there, do you +care to remain in the heart of--of such a man as I am?" + +"Yes. What you are I--forgive." + +An outburst of merriment came from the library, and several figures clad +in the finery of the early nineteenth century came bustling out into the +hall. + +[Illustration: "Cheer after cheer rang through the hallway"] + +Evidently his guests had rifled the chests and trunks in the attic and +had attired themselves to their heart's content. At sight of Desboro +approaching accompanied by a slim figure in complete armour, they set up +a shout of apprehension and then cheer after cheer rang through the +hallway. + +"Do you know," cried Betty Barkley, "you are the most darling thing in +armour that ever happened! I want to get into some steel trousers like +yours immediately! Are there any in the armoury that will fit me, Jim?" + +"Did _you_ discover her?" demanded Reggie Ledyard, aghast. + +"Not within the time limit, old chap," said Desboro, pretending deep +chagrin. + +"Then you don't have to marry him, do you, Miss Nevers?" exclaimed +Cairns, gleefully. + +"I don't have to marry anybody, Mr. Cairns. And _isn't_ it humiliating?" +she returned, laughingly, edging her way toward the stairs amid the +noisy and admiring group surrounding her. + +"No! No!" cried Katharine Frere. "You can't escape! You are too lovely +that way, and you certainly must come to lunch in your armour!" + +"I'd perish!" protested Jacqueline. "No Christian martyr was ever more +absolutely cooked than am I in this suit of mail." + +Helsa Steyr started for her, but Jacqueline sprang to the stairs and ran +up, pursued by Helsa and Betty. + +"_Isn't_ she the cunningest, sweetest thing!" sighed Athalie Vannis, +looking after her. "I'm simply and sentimentally mad over her. Why +_didn't_ you have brains enough to discover her, Jim, and make her marry +you?" + +"I'd have knocked 'em out if he had had enough brains for that," +muttered Ledyard. "But the horrible thing is that I haven't any brains, +either, and Miss Nevers has nothing but!" + +"A girl like that marries diplomats and dukes, and discoverers and +artists and things," commented Betty. "You're just a good-looking simp, +Reggie. So is Jim." + +Ledyard retorted wrathfully; Desboro, who had been summoned to the +telephone, glanced at Aunt Hannah as he walked away, and was rather +disturbed at the malice in the old lady's menacing smile. + +But what Daisy Hammerton said to him over the telephone disturbed him +still more. + +"Jim! Elena and Cary Clydesdale are stopping with us. May I bring them +to dinner this evening?" + +For a moment he was at a loss, then he said, with forced cordiality: + +"Why, of course, Daisy. But have you spoken to them about it? I've an +idea that they might find my party a bore." + +"Oh, no! Elena wished me to ask you to invite them. And Cary was +listening." + +"Did _he_ care to come?" + +"I suppose so." + +"What did he say?" + +"He grinned. He always does what Elena asks him to do." + +"Oh! Then bring them by all means." + +"Thank you, Jim." + +And that was all; and Desboro, astonished and troubled for a few +moments, began to see in the incident not only the dawn of an +understanding between Clydesdale and his wife, but something resembling +a vindication for himself in this offer to renew a friendship so +abruptly terminated. More than that, he saw in it a return of Elena to +her senses, and it pleased him so much that when he passed Aunt Hannah +in the hall he was almost smiling. + +"What pleases you so thoroughly, James--yourself?" she asked grimly. + +But he only smiled at her and sauntered on, exchanging friendly +body-blows with Reggie Ledyard as he passed. + +"Reggie," said Mrs. Hammerton, with misleading mildness, "come and +exercise me for a few moments--there's a dear." And she linked arms with +him and began to march up and down the hall vigorously. + +"She's very charming, isn't she?" observed Aunt Hannah blandly. + +"Who?" + +"Miss Nevers." + +"She's a dream," said Reggie, with emphasis. + +"Such a thoroughbred air," commented the old lady. + +"Rather!" + +"And yet--she's only a shop-keeper." + +"Eh?" + +"Didn't you know that Miss Nevers keeps an antique shop?" + +"What of it?" he said, turning red. "I peddle stocks. My grandfather +made snuff. What do I care what Miss Nevers does?" + +"Of course. Only--would _you_ marry her?" + +"Huh! Like a shot! But I see her letting me! Once I was even ass enough +to think I could kiss her, but it seems she won't even stand for that! +And Herrendene makes me sick--the old owl--sneaking off with her +whenever he can get the chance! They all make me sick!" he added, +lighting a cigarette. "I wish to goodness I had a teaspoonful of +intellect, and I'd give 'em a run for her. Because I have the looks, if +I do say it," he added, modestly. + +"Looks never counted seriously with a woman yet," said Mrs. Hammerton +maliciously. "Also, I've seen better looking coachmen than you." + +"Thanks. What are you going to do with her anyway?" + +"I don't have to do anything. She'll do whatever is necessary." + +"That's right, too. Lord, but she'll cut a swathe! Even that dissipated +creature Cairns sits up and takes notice. I should think Desboro would, +too--more than he does." + +"I understand there's a girl in blue, somewhere," observed Mrs. +Hammerton. + +"That's a different kind of girl," said the young man, with contempt, +and quite oblivious to his own naïve self-revelation. Mrs. Hammerton +shrugged her trim shoulders. + +"Also," he said, "there is Elena Clydesdale--speaking of scandal and +James Desboro in the same breath." + +"Do you believe that story?" + +"Yes. But that sort of affair never counts seriously with a man who +wants to marry." + +"Really? How charming! But perhaps it might count against him with the +girl he wants to marry. Young girls are sometimes fastidious, you know." + +"They never hear about such things until somebody tells 'em, after +they're married. Then it's rather too late to throw any pre-nuptial +fits," he added, with a grin. + +"Reginald," said Mrs. Hammerton, "day by day I am humbly learning how to +appreciate the innate delicacy, chivalry, and honourable sentiments of +your sex. You yourself are a wonderful example. For instance, when +rumour couples Elena Clydesdale's name with James Desboro's, does it +occur to you to question the scandal? No; you take it for granted, and +very kindly explain to me how easily Mrs. Clydesdale can be thrown over +if her alleged lover decides he'd like to marry somebody." + +"That's what's done," he said sulkily. "When a man----" + +"You don't have to tell _me_!" she fairly hissed, turning on him so +suddenly that he almost fell backward. "Don't you think I know what is +the code among your sort--among the species of men you find sympathetic? +You and Jack Cairns and James Desboro--and Cary Clydesdale, too? Let him +reproach himself if his wife misbehaves! And I don't blame her if she +does, and I don't believe she does! Do you hear me, you yellow-haired, +blue-eyed little beast?" + +Ledyard stood open-mouthed, red to the roots of his blond hair, and the +tiny, baleful black eyes of Mrs. Hammerton seemed to hypnotise him. + +"You're all alike," she said with withering contempt. "Real men are out +in the world, doing things, not crawling around over the carpet under +foot, or sitting in clubs, or dancing with a pack of women, or idling +from polo field to tennis court, from stable to steam-yacht. You've no +real blood in you; it's only Scotch and soda gone flat. You've the +passions of overfed lap dogs with atrophied appetites. There's not a +real man here--except Captain Herrendene--and he's going back to his +post in a week. You others have no posts. And do you think that men of +your sort are fitted to talk about marrying such a girl as Miss Nevers? +Let me catch one of you trying it! She's in my charge. But that doesn't +count. She'll recognise a real man when she sees one, and glittering +counterfeits won't attract her." + +"Great heavens!" faltered Reggie. "What a horrible lambasting! I--I've +heard you could do it; but this is going some--really, you know, it's +going some! And I'm not all those things that you say, either!" he +added, in naïve resentment. "I may be no good, but I'm not as rotten as +all that." + +He stood with lips pursed up into a half-angry, half-injured pout, like +a big, blond, blue-eyed yokel facing school-room punishment. + +Mrs. Hammerton's harsh face relaxed; and finally a smile wrinkled her +eyes. + +"I suppose men can't help being what they are--a mixture of precocious +child and trained beast. The best of 'em have both of these in 'em. And +you are far from the best. Reggie, come here to me!" + +He came, after a moment's hesitation, doubtfully. + +"Lord!" she said. "How we cherish the worst of you! I sometimes think we +don't know enough to appreciate the best. Otherwise, perhaps they'd give +us more of their society. But, generally, all we draw is your sort; and +we cast our nets in vain into the real world--where Captain Herrendene +is going on Monday. Reggie, dear?" + +"What?" he said suspiciously. + +"Was I severe with you and your friends?" + +"Great heavens! There isn't another woman I'd take such a drubbing +from!" + +"But you _do_ take it," she said, with one of her rare and generous +smiles which few people ever saw, and of which few could believe her +facially capable. + +And she slipped her arm through his and led him slowly toward the +library where already Farris was announcing luncheon. + +"By heck!" he repeated later, in the billiard room, to a group of +interested listeners. "Aunt Hannah is all that they say she is. She +suddenly let out into me, and I give y'm'word she had me over the ropes +in one punch--tellin' me what beasts men are--and how we're not fit to +associate with nice girls--no b'jinks--nor fit to marry 'em, either." + +Cairns laughed unfeelingly. + +"Oh, you can laugh!" muttered Ledyard. "But to be lit into that way +hurts a man's self-respect. You'd better be careful or you'll be in for +a dose of Aunt Hannah, too. She evidently has no use for any of +us--barrin' the Captain, perhaps." + +That gentleman smiled and picked up his hockey stick. + +"There's enough ice left--if you don't mind a wetting," he said. "Shall +we start?" + +Desboro rose, saying carelessly: "The Hammertons and Clydesdales are +coming over. I'll have to wait for them." + +Bertie Barkley turned his hard little smooth-shaven face toward him. + +"Where are the Clydesdales?" + +"I believe they're stopping with the Hammertons for a week or two--I +really don't know. You can ask them, as they'll be here to dinner." + +Cairns laid aside a cue with which he had been punching pool-balls; Van +Alstyne unhooked his skate-bag, and the others followed his example in +silence. Nobody said anything further about the Clydesdales to Desboro. + +Out in the hall a gay group of young girls in their skating skirts were +gathering, among them Jacqueline, now under the spell of happiness in +their companionship. + +Truly, even in these few days, the "warm sunlight of approval" had done +wonders for her. She had blossomed out deliriously and exquisitely in +her half-shy friendships with these young girls, responding diffidently +at first to their overtures, then frankly and with a charming +self-possession based on the confidence that she was really quite all +right if everybody only thought so. + +Everybody seemed to think so; Athalie Vannis's friendship for her verged +on the sentimental, for the young girl was enraptured at the idea that +Jacqueline actually earned her own living. Marie Ledyard lazily admired +and envied her slight but exceedingly fashionable figure; Helsa Steyr +passionately adored her; Katharine Frere was profoundly impressed by her +intellectual attainments; Betty Barkley saw in her a social success, +with Aunt Hannah to pilot her--that is, every opportunity for wealth or +position, or even both, through the marriage to which, Betty cheerfully +conceded, her beauty entitled her. + +So everybody of her own sex was exceedingly nice to her; and the men +already were only too anxious to be. And what more could a young girl +want? + +As the jolly party started out across the snow, in random and chattering +groups made up by hazard, Jacqueline turned from Captain Herrendene, +with whom she found herself walking, and looked back at Desboro, who had +remained standing bareheaded on the steps. + +"Aren't you coming?" she called out to him, in her clear young voice. + +He shook his head, smiling. + +"Please excuse me a moment," she murmured to Herrendene, and ran back +along the middle drive. Desboro started forward to meet her at the same +moment, and they met under the dripping spruces. + +"Why aren't you coming with us?" she asked. + +"I can't very well. I have to wait here for some people who might arrive +early." + +"You are going to remain here all alone?" + +"Yes, until they come. You see they are dining here, and I can't let +them arrive and find the house empty." + +"Do you want me to stay with you? Mrs. Hammerton is in her room, and it +would be perfectly proper." + +He said, reddening with surprise and pleasure: "It's very sweet of you. +I--had no idea you'd offer to do such a thing----" + +"Why shouldn't I? Besides, I'd rather be where you are than anywhere +else." + +"With _me_, Jacqueline?" + +"Are you really surprised to hear me admit it?" + +"A little." + +"Why, if you please?" + +"Because you never before have been demonstrative, even in speech." + +She blushed: "Not as demonstrative as you are. But you know that I might +learn to be." + +He looked at her curiously, but with more or less self-control. + +"Do you really care for me that way, Jacqueline?" + +"I know of no way in which I don't care for you," she said quickly. + +"Does your caring for me amount to--love?" he asked deliberately. + +"I--think so--yes." + +The emotion in his face was now palely reflected in hers; their voices +were no longer quite steady under the sudden strain of self-repression. + +"Say it, Jacqueline, if it is true," he whispered. His face was tense +and white, but not as pale as hers. "Say it!" he whispered again. + +"I can't--in words. But it is true--what you asked me." + +"That you love me?" + +"Yes. I thought you knew it long ago." + +They stood very still, facing each other, breathing more rapidly. Her +fate was upon her, and she knew it. + +Captain Herrendene, who had waited, watched them for a moment more, +then, lighting a cigarette, sauntered on carelessly, swinging his +hockey-stick in circles. + +Desboro said in a low, distinct voice, and without a tremor: "I am more +in love with you than ever, Jacqueline. But that is as much as I shall +ever say to you--nothing more than that." + +"I know it." + +"Yes, I know you do. Shall I leave you in peace? It can still be done. +Or--shall I tell you again that I love you?" + +"Yes--if you wish, tell me--that." + +"Is love _enough_ for you, Jacqueline?" + +"Ask yourself, Jim. With what you give I must be content--or starve." + +"Do you realise--what it means for us?" He could scarcely speak now. + +"Yes--I know." She turned and looked back. Herrendene was now a long way +off, walking slowly and alone. Then she turned once more to Desboro, +absently, as though absorbed in her own reflections. Herrendene had +asked her to marry him that morning. She was thinking of it now. + +Then, in her remote gaze the brief dream faded, her eyes cleared, and +she looked up at the silent man beside her. + +"Shall I remain here with you?" she asked. + +He made an effort to speak, but his voice was no longer under command. +She waited, watching him; then they both turned and slowly entered the +house together. Her hand had fallen into his, and when they reached the +library he lifted it to his lips and noticed that her fingers were +trembling. He laid his other hand over them, as though to quiet the +tremor; and looked into her face and saw how colourless it had become. + +"My darling!" But the time had not yet come when he could tolerate his +own words; contempt for them choked him for a moment, and he only took +her into his arms in silence. + +She strove to think, to speak, to master her emotion; but for a moment +his mounting passion subdued her and she remained silent, quivering in +his embrace. + +Then, with an effort, she found her voice and loosened his arms. + +"Listen," she whispered. "You must listen. I know what you are--how you +love me. But you are wrong! If I could only make you see it! If you +would not think me selfish, self-seeking--believe unworthy motives of +me----" + +"What do you mean?" he asked, suddenly chilled. + +"I mean that I am worth more to you than--than to be--what you wish me +to be to you. You won't misunderstand, will you? I am not bargaining, +not begging, not trading. I love you! I couldn't bargain; I could only +take your terms--or leave them. And I have not decided. But--may I say +something--for your sake more than for my own?" + +"Yes," he said, coolly. + +"Then--for your sake--far more than for mine--if you do really love +me--make more of me than you have thought of doing! I know I shall be +worth it to you. Could you consider it?" + +After a terrible silence, he said: "I can--get out of your life--dog +that I am! I can leave you in peace. And that is all." + +"If that is all you can do--don't leave me--in peace. I--I will take the +chances of remaining--honest----" + +The hint of fear in her eyes and in her voice startled him. + +"There is a martyrdom," she said, "which I might not be able to endure +forever. I don't know. I shall never love another man. And all my life I +have wanted love. It is here; and I may not be brave enough to deny it +and live my life out in ignorance of it. But, Jim, if you only could +understand--if you only knew what I can be to you--to the world for your +sake--what I can become merely because I love you--what I am capable of +for the sake of your pride in--in me--and----" She turned very white. +"Because it is better for your sake, Jim. I am not thinking of myself, +and how wonderful it would be for me--truly I am not. Don't you believe +me? Only--there is so much to me--I am really so much of a woman--that +it would begin to trouble you if ever I became anything--anything less +than your--wife. And you would feel sorry for me--and I couldn't +truthfully console you because all the while I'd know in my heart what +you had thrown away that might have belonged to us both." + +"Your life?" he said, with dry lips. + +"Oh, Jim! I mean more than your life and mine! For our lives--yours and +mine--would not be all you would throw away and deny. Before we die we +would want children. Ought I not to say it?" She turned away, blind with +tears, and dropped onto the sofa. "I'm wondering if I'm in my right +mind," she sobbed, "for yesterday I did not even dare think of these +things I am saying to you now! But--somehow--even while Captain +Herrendene was speaking--it all flashed into my mind. I don't know how I +knew it, but I suddenly understood that you belonged to me--just as you +are, Jim--all the good, all the evil in you--everything--even your +intentions toward me--how you may deal with me--all, all belonged to me! +And so I went back to you, to help you. And now I have said this +thing--for your sake alone, not for my own--only so that in years to +come you may not have me on your conscience. For if you do not marry +me--and I let myself really love you--you will wish that the beginning +was to be begun again, and that we had loved each other--otherwise." + +He came over and stood looking down at her for a moment. His lips were +twitching. + +"Would you marry me now," he managed to say, "_now_, after you know what +a contemptible cad I am?" + +"You are only a man. I love you, Jim. I will marry you--if you'll let +me----" + +Suddenly she covered her eyes with her hands. He seated himself beside +her, sick with self-contempt, dumb, not daring to touch her where she +crouched, trembling in every limb. + +For a long while they remained so, in utter silence; then the doorbell +startled them. Jacqueline fled to her room; Desboro composed himself +with a desperate effort and went out into the hall. + +He welcomed his guests on the steps when Farris opened the door, +outwardly master of himself once more. + +"We came over early, Jim," explained Daisy, "because Uncle John is +giving a dinner and father and mother need the car. Do you mind?" + +He laughed and shook hands with her and Elena, who looked intently and +unsmilingly into his face, and then let her expressionless glance linger +for a moment on her husband, who was holding out a huge hand to Desboro. + +"I'm glad to see you, Clydesdale," said Desboro pleasantly, and took +that bulky gentleman's outstretched hand, who mumbled something +incoherent; but the fixed grin remained. And that was the +discomforting--yes, the dismaying--characteristic of the man--his grin +never seemed to be affected by his emotions. + +Mrs. Quant bobbed away upstairs, piloting Daisy and Elena. Clydesdale +followed Desboro to the library--the same room where he had discovered +his wife that evening, and had learned in what esteem she held the law +that bound her to him. Both men thought of it now--could not avoid +remembering it. Also, by accident, they were seated very nearly as they +had been seated that night, Clydesdale filling the armchair with his +massive figure, Desboro sitting on the edge of the table, one foot +resting on the floor. + +Farris brought whiskey; both men shook their heads. + +"Will you have a cigar, Clydesdale?" asked the younger man. + +"Thanks." + +They smoked in silence for a few moments, then: + +"I'm glad you came," said Desboro simply. + +"Yes. Men don't usually raise that sort of hell with each other unless a +woman starts it." + +"Don't talk that way about your wife," said Desboro sharply. + +"See here, young man, I have no illusions concerning my wife. What +happened here was her doing, not yours. I knew it at the time--if I +didn't admit it. You behaved well--and you've behaved well ever +since--only it hurt me too much to tell you so before to-day." + +"That's all right, Clydesdale----" + +"Yes, it is going to be all right now, I guess." A curious expression +flitted across his red features, softening the grin for a moment. "I +always liked you, Desboro; and Elena and I were staying with the +Hammertons, so she told that Daisy girl to ask you to invite us. That's +all there is to it." + +"Good business!" said Desboro, smiling. "I'm glad it's all clear between +us." + +"Yes, it's clear sailing now, I guess." Again the curiously softening +expression made his heavy red features almost attractive, and he +remained silent for a while, occupied with thoughts that seemed to be +pleasant ones. + +Then, abruptly emerging from his revery, he grinned at Desboro: + +"So Mrs. Hammerton has our pretty friend Miss Nevers in tow," he said. +"Fine girl, Desboro. She's been at my collection, you know, fixing it up +for the hammer." + +"So you are really going to sell?" inquired Desboro. + +"I don't know. I _was_ going to. But I'm taking a new interest in my +hobby since----" he reddened, then added very simply, "since Elena and I +have been getting on better together." + +"Sure," nodded Desboro, gravely understanding him. + +"Yes--it's about like that, Desboro. Things were rotten bad up to that +night. And afterward, too, for a while. They're clearing up a little +better, I think. We're going to get on together, I believe. I don't know +much about women; never liked 'em much--except Elena. It's funny about +Miss Nevers, isn't it?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Mrs. Hammerton's being so crazy about her. She's a good girl, and a +pretty one. Elena is wild to meet her." + +"Didn't your wife ever meet her at your house?" asked Desboro dryly. + +"When she was there appraising my jim-cracks? No. Elena has no use for +my gallery or anybody who goes into it. Besides, until this morning she +didn't even know that Miss Nevers was the same expert you employed. Now +she wants to meet her." + +Desboro slowly raised his eyes and looked at Clydesdale. The unvaried +grin baffled him, and presently he glanced elsewhere. + +Clydesdale, smoking, slowly crossed one ponderous leg over the other. +Desboro continued to gaze out of the window. Neither spoke again until +Daisy Hammerton came in with Elena. If the young wife remembered the +somewhat lurid circumstances of her last appearance in that room, her +animated and smiling face betrayed no indication of embarrassment. + +"When is that gay company of yours going to return, Jim?" she demanded. +"I am devoured by curiosity to meet this beautiful Miss Nevers. Fancy +her coming to my house half a dozen times this winter and I never +suspecting that my husband's porcelain gallery concealed such a +combination of genius and beauty! I could have bitten somebody's head +off in vexation," she rattled on, "when I found out who she was. So I +made Daisy ask you to invite us to meet her. _Is_ she so unusually +wonderful, Jim?" + +"I believe so," he said drily. + +"They say every man who meets her falls in love with her +immediately--and that most of the women do, too," appealing to Daisy, +who nodded smiling corroboration. + +"She is very lovely and very clever, Elena. I think I never saw anything +more charming than that rainbow dance she did for us last night in +Chinese costume," turning to Desboro, "'The Rainbow Skirt,' I think it +is called?" + +"A dance some centuries old," said Desboro, and let his careless glance +rest on Elena for a moment. + +"She looked," said Daisy, "like some exquisite Chinese figure made of +rose-quartz, crystal and green jade." + +"Jade?" said Clydesdale, immediately interested. "That girl knows jades, +I can tell you. By gad! The first thing she did when she walked into my +gallery was to saw into a few glass ones with a file; and good-night to +about a thousand dollars in Japanese phony!" + +"That was pleasant," said Desboro, laughing. + +"Wasn't it! And my rose-quartz Fêng-huang! The Chia-Ching period of the +Ming dynasty! Do you get me, Desboro? It was Jap!" + +"Really?" + +Clydesdale brought down his huge fist with a thump on the table: + +"I wouldn't believe it! I told Miss Nevers she didn't know her business! +I asked her to consider the fact that the crystallisation was +rhombohedral, the prisms six-sided, hardness 7, specific gravity 2.6, no +trace of cleavage, immune to the three acids or the blow-pipe alone, and +reacted with soda in the flame. I thought I knew it all, you see. First +she called my attention to the colour. 'Sure,' I said, 'it's a little +faded; but rose-quartz fades when exposed to light!' 'Yes,' said she, +'but moisture restores it.' So we tried it. Nix doing! Only a faint +rusty stain becoming visible and infecting that delicious rose colour. +'Help!' said I. 'What the devil is it?' 'Jap funny business,' said she. +'Your rose-quartz phoenix of the Ming dynasty is common yellow crystal +carved in Japan and dyed that beautiful rose tint with something, the +composition of which my chemist is investigating!' Wasn't it horrible, +Desboro?" + +Daisy's brown eyes were very wide open, and she exclaimed softly: + +"What a beautiful knowledge she has of a beautiful profession!" And to +Desboro: "Can you imagine anything in the world more fascinating than to +use such knowledge? And how in the world did she acquire it? She is so +very young to know so much!" + +"Her father began her training as a child," said Desboro. There was a +slight burning sensation in his face, and a hotter pride within him. +After a second or two he felt Elena's gaze; but did not choose to +encounter it at the moment, and was turning to speak to Daisy Hammerton +when Jacqueline entered the library. + +Clydesdale lumbered to his feet and tramped over to shake hands with +her; Daisy greeted her cordially; she and Elena were presented, and +stood smiling at each other for a second's silence. Then Mrs. Clydesdale +moved a single step forward, and Jacqueline crossed to her and offered +her hand, looking straight into her eyes so frankly and intently that +Elena's colour rose and for once in her life her tongue remained silent. + +"Your husband and I are already business acquaintances," said +Jacqueline. "I know your very beautiful gallery, too, and have had the +privilege of identifying and classifying many of the jades and +porcelains." + +Elena's eyes were level and cool as she said: "If I had known who you +were I would have received you myself. You must not think me rude. Mr. +Desboro's unnecessary reticence concerning you is to blame; not I." + +Jacqueline's smile became mechanical: "Mr. Desboro's reticence +concerning a business acquaintance was very natural. A busy woman +neither expects nor even thinks about social amenities under business +circumstances." + +[Illustration: "'Business is kinder to men than women sometimes +believe'"] + +Elena's flush deepened: "Business is kinder to men than women sometimes +believe--if it permits acquaintance with such delightful people as +yourself." + +Jacqueline said calmly: "All business has its compensations,"--she +smiled and made a friendly little salute with her head to Clydesdale and +Desboro,--"as you will witness for me. And I am employed by other +clients who also are considerate and kind. So you see the woman who +works has scarcely any time to suffer from social isolation." + +Daisy said lightly: "Nobody who is happily employed worries over social +matters. Intelligence and sweet temper bring more friends than a busy +girl knows what to do with. Isn't that so, Miss Nevers?" + +Jacqueline turned to Elena with a little laugh: "It's an axiom that +nobody can have too many friends. I want all I can have, Mrs. +Clydesdale, and am most grateful when people like me." + +"And when they don't," asked Elena, smiling, "what do you do then, Miss +Nevers?" + +"What is there to do, Mrs. Clydesdale?" she said gaily. "What would you +do about it?" + +But Elena seemed not to have heard her, for she was already turning to +Desboro, flushed, almost feverish in her animation: + +"So many things have happened since I saw you, Jim----" she hesitated, +then added daringly, "at the opera. Do you remember _Ariane_?" + +"I think you were in the Barkley's box," he said coolly. + +"Your memory is marvellous! In point of fact, I was there. And since +then so many, many things have happened that I'd like to compare notes +with you--sometime." + +"I'm quite ready now," he said. + +"Do you think your daily record fit for public scrutiny, Jim?" she +laughed. + +"I don't mind sharing it with anybody here," he retorted gaily, "if you +have no objection." + +His voice and hers, and their laughter seemed so perfectly frank that +thrust and parry passed as without significance. She and Desboro were +still lightly rallying each other; Clydesdale was explaining to Daisy +that lapis lazuli was the sapphire of the ancients, while Jacqueline was +showing her a bit under a magnifying glass, when the noise of sleighs +and motors outside signalled the return of the skating party. + +As Desboro passed her, Elena said under her breath: "I want a moment +alone with you this evening." + +"It's impossible," he motioned with his lips; and passed on with a smile +of welcome for his returning guests. + +Later, in the billiard room, where they all had gathered before the +impromptu dance which usually terminated the evening, Elena found +another chance for a word aside: "Jim, I must speak to you alone, +please." + +"It can't be done. You see that for yourself, don't you?" + +"It can be done. Go to your room and I'll come----" + +"Are you mad?" + +"Almost. I tell you you'd better find some way----" + +"What has happened?" + +"I mean to have _you_ tell _me_, Jim." + +A dull flush came into his face: "Oh! Well, I'll tell you now, if you +like." + +Her heart seemed to stop for a second, then almost suffocated her, and +she instinctively put her hand to her throat. + +He was leaning over the pool table, idly spinning the ivory balls; she, +seated on the edge, one pretty, bare arm propping her body, appeared to +be watching him as idly. All around them rang the laughter and animated +chatter of his guests, sipping their after-dinner coffee and cordial +around the huge fireplace. + +"Don't say--that you are going to--Jim----" she breathed. "It isn't +true--it mustn't be----" + +He interrupted deliberately: "What are you trying to do to me? Make a +servant out of me? Chain me up while you pass your life deciding at +leisure whether to live with your husband or involve yourself and me in +scandal?" + +"Are you in love with that girl--after what you have promised me?" + +"Are you sane or crazy?" + +"You once told me you would never marry. I have rested secure in the +knowledge that when the inevitable crash came you would be free to stand +by me!" + +"You have a perfectly good husband. You and he are on better terms--you +are getting on all right together. Do you expect to keep me tied to the +table-leg in case of eventualities?" he said, in a savage whisper. "How +many men do you wish to control?" + +"One! I thought a Desboro never lied." + +"Have I lied to you?" + +"If you marry Miss Nevers you will have lied to me, Jim." + +"Very well. Then you'll release me from that fool of a promise. I +remember I did say that I would never marry. I've changed my mind, +that's all. I've changed otherwise, too--please God! The cad you knew as +James Desboro is not exactly what you're looking at now. It's in me to +be something remotely resembling a man. I learned how to try from her, +if you want to know. What I was can't be helped. What I'm to make of +the débris of what I am concerns myself. If you ever had a shred of real +liking for me you'll show it now." + +"Jim! Is this how you betray me--after persuading me to continue a +shameful and ghastly farce with Cary Clydesdale! You _have_ betrayed +me--for your own ends! You have made my life a living lie again--so that +you could evade responsibility----" + +"Was I ever responsible for you?" + +"You asked me to marry you----" + +"Before you married Cary. Good God! Does that entail hard labour for +life?" + +"You promised not to marry----" + +"What is it to you what I do--if you treat your husband decently?" + +"I have tried----" She crimsoned. "I--I endured degradation to which I +will never again submit--whatever the law may be--whatever marriage is +supposed to include! Do you think you can force me to--to that--for your +own selfish ends--with your silly and unsolicited advice on domesticity +and--and children--when my heart is elsewhere--when you have it, and you +know you possess it--and all that I am--every bit of me. Jim! Don't be +cruel to me who have been trying to live as you wished, merely to +satisfy a moral notion of your own! Don't betray me now--at such a +time--when it's a matter of days, hours, before I tell Cary that the +farce is ended. Are you going to leave me to face things alone? You +can't! I won't let you! I am----" + +[Illustration: "'Be careful,' he said.... 'People are watching us'"] + +"Be careful," he said, spinning the 13 ball into a pocket. "People are +watching us. Toss that cue-ball back to me, please. Laugh a little when +you do it." + +For a second she balanced the white ivory ball in a hand which matched +it; then the mad impulse to dash it into his smiling face passed with a +shudder, and she laughed and sent it caroming swiftly from cushion to +cushion, until it darted into his hand. + +"Jim," she said, "you are not really serious. I know it, too; and +because I do know it, I have been able to endure the things you have +done--your idle fancies for a pretty face and figure--your +indiscretions, ephemeral courtships, passing inclinations. But this is +different----" + +"Yes, it is different," he said. "And so am I, Elena. Let us be about +the honest business of life, in God's name, and clear our hearts and +souls of the morbid and unwholesome mess that lately entangled us." + +"Is _that_ how you speak of what we have been to each other?" she asked, +very pale. + +He was silent. + +"Jim, dear," she said timidly, "won't you give me ten minutes alone with +you?" + +He scarcely heard her. He spun the last parti-coloured ball into a +corner pocket, straightened his shoulders, and looked at Jacqueline +where she sat in the corner of the fireplace. Herrendene, cross-legged +on the rug at her feet, was doing Malay card tricks to amuse her; but +from moment to moment her blue eyes stole across the room toward Desboro +and Mrs. Clydesdale where they leaned together over the distant pool +table. Suddenly she caught his eye and smiled a pale response to the +message in his gaze. + +After a moment he said quietly to Elena: "I am deeply and reverently in +love--for the first and only time in my life. It is proper that you +should know it. And now you do know it. There is absolutely nothing +further to be said between us." + +"There is--more than you think," she whispered, white to the lips. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Nobody, apparently, was yet astir; not a breakfast tray had yet tinkled +along the dusky corridors when Desboro, descending the stairs in the dim +morning light, encountered Jacqueline coming from the general direction +of the east wing, her arms loaded with freshly cut white carnations. + +"Good morning," he whispered, in smiling surprise, taking her and her +carnations into his arms very reverently, almost timidly. + +She endured the contact shyly and seriously, as usual, bending her head +aside to avoid his lips. + +"Do you suppose," he said laughingly, "that you could ever bring +yourself to kiss me, Jacqueline?" + +She did not answer, and presently he released her, saying: "You never +have yet; and now that we're engaged----" + +"Engaged!" + +"You _know_ we are!" + +"Is that what you think, Jim?" + +"Certainly! I asked you to marry me----" + +"No, dear, _I_ asked _you_. But I wasn't certain you had quite accepted +me----" + +"Are you laughing at me?" + +"I don't know--I don't know what I am doing any more; laughter and tears +seem so close to each other--sometimes--and I can never be certain which +it is going to be any more." + +Her eyes remained grave, but her lips were sweet and humourous as she +stood there on the stairs, her chin resting on the sheaf of carnations +clasped to her breast. + +"What is troubling you, Jacqueline?" he asked, after a moment's silence. + +"Nothing. If you will hold these flowers a moment I'll decorate you." + +He took the fragrant sheaf from her; she selected a magnificent white +blossom, drew the stem through the lapel of his coat, patted the flower +into a position which suited her, regarded the effect critically, then +glanced up out of her winning blue eyes and found him watching her +dreamily. + +"I try to realise it, and I can't," he said vaguely. "Can you, dear?" + +"Realise what?" she asked, in a low voice. + +"That we are engaged." + +"Are you so sure of me, Jim?" + +"Do you suppose I could live life through without you _now_?" + +"I don't know. Try it for two minutes anyway; these flowers must stand +in water. Will you wait here for me?" + +He stepped forward to aid her, but she passed him lightly, avoiding his +touch, and sped across the corridor. In a few minutes she returned and +they descended the stairs together, and entered the empty library. She +leaned back against the table, both slender hands resting on the edge +behind her, and gazed out at the sparrows in the snow. And she did not +even appear to notice his arm, which ventured around her waist, or his +lips resting against the lock of bright hair curling on her cheek, so +absorbed she seemed to be in her silent reflections. + +After a few moments she said, still looking out of the window: "I must +tell you something now." + +"Are you going to tell me that you love me?" + +"Yes--perhaps I had better begin that way." + +"Then begin, dearest." + +"I--I love you." + +His arm tightened around her, but she gently released herself. + +"There is a--a little more to say, Jim. I love you enough to give you +back your promise." + +"My promise!" + +"To marry me," she said steadily. "I scarcely knew what I was saying +yesterday--I was so excited, so much in love with you--so fearful that +you might sometime be unhappy if things continued with us as they +threatened to continue. I'm afraid I overvalued myself--made you suspect +that I am more than I really am--or can ever be. Besides, I frightened +you--and myself--unnecessarily. I never could be in any danger of--of +loving you--unwisely. It was not perfectly fair to you to hint such a +thing--because, after all, there is a third choice for you. A worthy +one. For you _could_ let me go my way out of your life, which is already +so full, and which would fill again very easily, even if my absence left +a little void for a while. And if it was any kind of pity you felt for +me--for what I said to you--that stirred you to--ask of me what I begged +you to ask--then I give you back your promise. I have not slept for +thinking over it. I must give it back." + +He remained silent for a while, then his arms slipped down around her +body and he dropped on one knee beside her and laid his face close +against her. She had to bend over to hear what he was saying, he spoke +so low and with such difficulty. + +"How can you care for me?" he said. "How _can_ you? Don't you understand +what a beast I was--what lesser impulse possessed me----" + +"Hush, Jim! Am I different?" + +"Good God! Yes!" + +"No, dear." + +"You don't know what you're saying!" + +"_You_ don't know. Do you suppose I am immune to--to the--lesser +love--at moments----" + +He lifted his head and looked up at her, dismayed. + +"You!" + +"I. How else could I understand _you_?" + +"Because you are so far above everything unworthy." + +"No, dear. If I were, you would only have angered and frightened me--not +made me sorry for us both. Because women and men are something alike at +moments; only, somehow, women seem to realise that--somehow--they are +guardians of--of something--of civilisation, perhaps. And it is their +instinct to curb and silence and ignore whatever unworthy threatens it +or them. It is that way with us, Jim." + +She looked out of the window at the sky and the trees, and stood +thinking for a while. Then: "Did you suppose it is always easy for a +girl in love--whose instinct is to love--and to give? Especially such a +girl as I am, especially when she is so dreadfully afraid that her lover +may think her cold-blooded--self-seeking--perhaps a--a schemer----" + +She covered her face with her hand--the quick, adorable gesture he knew +so well. + +"I--_did_ ask you to marry me," she said, in a stifled voice, "but I am +not a schemer; my motive was not self-interest. It was for you I asked +it, Jim, far more than for myself--or I never could have found the +courage--perhaps not even the wish. Because, somehow, I am too proud to +wish for anything that is not offered." + +As he said nothing, she broke out suddenly with a little sob of protest +in her voice: "I am _not_ a self-seeking, calculating woman! I am not +naturally cold and unresponsive! I am--inclined to be--otherwise. And +you had better know it. But you won't believe it, I am afraid, because +I--I have never responded to--to you." + +Tears fell between her fingers over the flushed cheeks. She spoke with +increasing effort: "You don't understand; and I can't explain--except to +say that to be demonstrative seemed unworthy in me." + +He put his arms around her shoulders very gently; she rested her +forehead against his shoulder. + +"Don't think me calculating and cold-blooded--or a fool," she whispered. +"Probably everybody kisses or is kissed. I know it as well as you do. +But I haven't the--effrontery--to permit myself--such emotions. I +couldn't, Jim. I'd hate myself. And I thought of that, too, when I asked +you to marry me. Because if you had refused--and--matters had gone +on--you would have been sorry for me sooner or later--or perhaps hated +me. Because I would have been--been too much ashamed of myself to +have--loved you--unwisely." + +He stood with head bent, listening; and, as he listened, the comparison +between this young girl and himself forced itself into his unwilling +mind--how that all she believed and desired ennobled her, and how what +had always governed him had made of him nothing more admirable than what +he was born, a human animal. For what he began as he still was--only +cleverer. + +What else was he--except a trained animal, sufficiently educated to keep +out of jail? What had he done with his inheritance? His body was sane +and healthy; he had been at pains to cultivate that. How was it with his +mind? How was it with his spiritual beliefs? Had he cultivated and added +to either? He had been endowed with a brain. Had he made of it anything +except an instrument for idle caprice and indolent passions to play +upon? + +"Do you understand me now?" she whispered, touching wet lashes with her +handkerchief. + +He replied impetuously, hotly; her hands dropped from her face and she +looked up at him with sweet, confused eyes, blushing vividly under his +praise of her. + +He spoke of himself, too, with all the quick, impassioned impulse of +youthful emotion, not sparing himself, promising better things, vowing +them before the shrine of her innocence. Yet, a stronger character might +have registered such vows in silence. And his fervour and incoherence +left her mute; and after he had ceased to protest too much she stood +quiet for a while, striving to search herself so that nothing unworthy +should remain--so that heart and soul should be clean under the magic +veil of happiness descending before her enraptured eyes. + +Gently his arms encircled her; her clasped hands rested on his shoulder, +and she gazed out at the blue sky and sun-warmed snow as at a corner of +paradise revealed. + +Later, when the household was astir, she went out with him into the +greenhouse, where the enchanted stillness of growing things thrilled +her, and the fragrance and sunlight made the mystery of love and its +miracle even more exquisitely unreal to her. + +At first they did not speak; her hand lay loosely in his, her blue eyes +remained remote; and together they slowly paced the long, glass-sheeted +galleries between misty, scented mounds of bloom, to and fro, under the +flood of pallid winter sunshine, pale as the yellow jasmine flowers +overhead. + +After a while a fat gardener came into one of the further wings. +Presently the sound of shovelled coal from the furnace-pit aroused them +from their dream; and they looked at each other gravely. + +After a moment, he said: "Does it make a difference to you, Jacqueline, +what I was before I knew you?" + +"No." + +"I was only wondering what you really think of me." + +"You know already, Jim." + +He shook his head slowly. + +"Jim! Of course you know!" she insisted hotly. "What you may have been +before I knew you I refuse to consider. Anyway, it was _you_--part of +you--and belongs to me now! Because I choose to make it mine--all that +you were and are--good and evil! For I won't give up one atom of +you--even to the devil himself!" + +He tried to laugh: "What a fierce little partisan you are," he said. + +"Very--where it concerns you," she said, unsmiling. + +"Dear--I had better tell you now; you may hear things about me----" + +"I won't listen to them!" + +"No; but one sometimes hears without listening. People may say things. +They _will_ say things. I wish I could spare you. If I had known--if I +had only known--that you were in the world----" + +"Don't, Jim! It--it isn't best for me to hear. It doesn't concern me," +she insisted excitedly. "And if anybody dares say one word to me----" + +"Wait, dear. All I want to be sure of is that you _do_ love me enough +to--to go on loving me. I want to be certain, and I want you to be +certain before you are a bride----" + +She was growing very much excited, and suddenly near to tears, for the +one thing that endangered her self-control seemed to be his doubt of +her. + +"There is nothing that I haven't forgiven you," she said. "Nothing! +There is nothing I won't forgive--except--one thing----" + +"What?" + +"I can't say it. I can't even think it. All I know is that _now_ I +couldn't forgive it." Suddenly she became perfectly quiet. + +"I know what you mean," he said. + +"Yes. It is what no wife can forgive." She looked at him, clear eyed, +intelligent, calm; for the moment without any illusion; and he seemed to +feel that, in the light of what she knew of him, she was coolly weighing +the danger of the experiment. Never had he seen so cold and lustrous a +brow, such limpid clarity of eye, searching, fearless, direct. Then, in +an instant, it all seemed to melt into flushed and winsome loveliness; +and she was murmuring that she loved him, and asking pardon for even one +second's hesitation. + +"It never could be; it is unthinkable," she whispered. "And it is too +late anyway for me--I would love you now, whatever you killed in me. +Because I must go on loving you, Jim; for that is the way it is with me, +and I know it now. As long as there is life in me I'll strive for you in +my own fashion--even against yourself--to keep you for mine, to please +you, to be to you and to the world what you wish me to be--for your +honour and your happiness--which also must be my own--the only +happiness, now, that I can ever understand." + +He held her in his arms, smoothing the bright hair, touching the white +brow with his lips at moments, happy because he was so deeply in love, +fearful because of it--and, deep in his soul, miserable, afraid lest +aught out of his past life return again to mock her--lest some echo of +folly offend her ears--some shadow fall--some phantom of dead days rise +from their future hearth to stand between them. + +It is that way with a man who has lived idly and irresponsibly, and who +has gone lightly about the pleasure of life and not its business. For +sometimes there arrives an hour of unbidden clairvoyance--not +necessarily a spiritual awakening--but a moment of balanced intelligence +and sanity and clear vision. And when it arrives, the road to yesterday +suddenly becomes visible for its entire length; and when a man looks +back he sees it stretching away behind him, peopled with every shape +that has ever traversed it, and every spectre that ever has haunted it. + +Sorrow for what need not have been, regret and shame for what had +been--and the bitterness of the folly--the knowledge, too late, of what +he could have been to the girl he held now in his arms--how he could +have met her on more equal terms had he saved his youth and strength and +innocence and pride for her alone--how he could have given it unsullied +into her keeping. All this Desboro was beginning to realise now. And +many men have realised it when the tardy understanding came too late. +For what has been is still and will be always; and shall appear here or +hereafter, or after that--somewhere, sometime, inevitably, inexorably. +There is no such thing as expunging what has been, or of erasing what is +to be. All records stand; hope lies only in lengthening the endless +chapters--chapters which will not be finished when the sun dies, and the +moon fails, and the stars go out forever. + + * * * * * + +Walking slowly back together, they passed Herrendene in the wing hall, +and his fine and somewhat melancholy face lighted up at the encounter. + +"I'm _so_ sorry you are going to-day," said Jacqueline, with all her +impulsive and sweet sincerity. "Everybody will miss you and wish you +here again." + +"To be regretted is one of the few real pleasures in life," he said, +smiling. His quick eye had rested on Desboro and then reverted to her, +and his intuition was warning him with all the brutality and finality of +reason that his last hope of her must end. + +Desboro said: "I hate to have you go, Herrendene, but I suppose you +must." + +"Must you?" echoed Jacqueline, wistful for the moment. But the +irresistible radiance of happiness had subtly transfigured her, and +Herrendene looked into her eyes and saw the new-born beauty in them, +shyly apparent. + +"Yes," he said, "I must be about the business of life--the business of +life, Miss Nevers. Everybody is engaged in it; it has many names, but +it's all the same business. You, for example, pass judgment on beautiful +things; Desboro, here, is a farmer, and I play soldier with sword and +drum. But it's all the same business--the business of life; and one can +work at it or idle through it, but never escape it, because, at the +last, every soul in the world must die in harness. And the idlest are +the heaviest laden." He laughed. "That's quite a sermon, isn't it, Miss +Nevers? And shall I make my adieux now? Were you going anywhere? You see +I am leaving Silverwood directly after breakfast----" + +"As though Mr. Desboro and I would go off anywhere and not say good-bye +to _you_!" she exclaimed indignantly, quite unconscious of being too +obvious. + +So they all three returned to the breakfast room together, where +Clydesdale, who had come over from the Hammertons' for breakfast, was +already tramping hungrily around the covered dishes on the sideboard, +hot plate in hand, evidently meditating a wholesale assault. He grinned +affably as Jacqueline and Desboro came in, and they all helped +themselves from the warmers, returning laden to the table with whatever +suited their fancy. Other guests, to whom no trays had been sent, +arrived one after another to prowl around the browse and join in the +conversation if they chose, or sulk, as is the fashion with some +perfectly worthy souls at breakfast-tide. + +"This thaw settles the skating for good and all," remarked Reggie +Ledyard. "Will you go fishing with me, Miss Nevers? It's our last day, +you know." + +Cairns growled over his grape-fruit: "You can't make dates with Miss +Nevers at the breakfast table. It isn't done. I was going to ask her to +do something with me, anyway." + +"I hate breakfast," said Van Alstyne. "When I see it I always wish I +were dead or that everybody else was. Zooks! This cocktail helps some! +Try one, Miss Nevers." + +"There's reason in your grouch," remarked Bertie Barkley, with his +hard-eyed smile, "considering what Aunt Hannah and I did to you and +Helsa at auction last night." + +"Aunt Hannah will live in luxury for a year on it," added Cairns +maliciously. "Doesn't it make you happy, Stuyve?" + +"Oh--blub!" muttered Van Alstyne, hating everybody and himself--and most +of all hating to think of his losses and of the lady who caused them. +Only the really rich know how card losses rankle. + +Cairns glanced banteringly across at Jacqueline. It was his form of wit +to quiz her because she neither indulged in cocktails nor cigarettes, +nor played cards for stakes. He lifted his eyebrows and tapped the +frosted shaker beside him significantly. + +"I've a new kind of mountain dew, warranted to wake the dead, Miss +Nevers. I call it the 'Aunt Hannah,' in her honour--honour to whom +honour is dew," he added impudently. "Won't you let me make you a +cocktail?" + +"Wait until Aunt Hannah hears how you have honoured her and tempted me," +laughed Jacqueline. + + "I never tempted maid or wife + Or suffragette in all my life----" + +sang Ledyard, beating time on Van Alstyne, who silently scowled his +displeasure. + +Presently Ledyard selected a grape-fruit, with a sour smile at one of +Desboro's cats which had confidently leaped into his lap. + +"Is this a zoo den in the Bronx, or a breakfast room, Desboro? I only +ask because I'm all over cats." + +Bertie Barkley snapped his napkin at an intrusive yellow pup who was +sniffing and wagging at his elbow. + +Jacqueline comforted the retreating animal, bending over and crooning in +his floppy ear: + +"They gotta stop kickin' my dawg aroun'." + +"What do _you_ care what they do to Jim's live stock, Miss Nevers?" +demanded Ledyard suspiciously. + +She laughed, but to her annoyance a warmer colour brightened her cheeks. + +"Heaven help us!" exclaimed Reggie. "Miss Nevers is blushing at the +breakfast table. Gentlemen, _are_ we done for without even suspecting +it? And by that--that"--pointing a furious finger at Desboro--"_that_!" + +"Certainly," said Desboro, smiling. "Did you imagine I'd ever let Miss +Nevers escape from Silverwood?" + +Ledyard heaved a sigh of relief: "Gad," he muttered, "I suspected you +both for a moment. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Every man here would have +murdered you in turn. Come on, Miss Nevers; you've made a big splash +with me, and I'll play you a game of rabbit--or anything on earth, if +you'll let me run along beside you." + +"No, I'm driving with Captain Herrendene to the station," she said; and +that melancholy soldier looked up in grateful surprise. + +And she did go with him; and everybody came out on the front steps to +wish him _bon voyage_. + +"Are you coming back, Miss Nevers?" asked Ledyard, in pretended alarm. + +"I don't know. Is Manila worth seeing, Captain Herrendene?" she asked, +laughingly. + +"If you sail for Manila with that tin soldier I'll go after you in a +hydroplane!" called Reggie after them, as the car rolled away. He added +frankly, for everybody's benefit: "I hate any man who even looks at her, +and I don't care who knows it. But what's the use? Going to night-school +might help me, but I doubt it. No; she's for a better line of goods than +the samples at Silverwood. She shines too far above us. Mark that, James +Desboro! And take what comfort you can in your reflected glory. For had +she not been the spotlight, you'd look exactly like the rest of us. And +that isn't flattering anybody, I'm thinking." + +It was to be the last day of the party. Everybody was leaving directly +after luncheon, and now everybody seemed inclined to do nothing in +particular. Mrs. Clydesdale came over from the Hammerton's. The air was +soft and springlike; the snow in the fields was melting and full of +golden pools. People seemed to be inclined to stroll about outdoors +without their hats; a lively snowball battle began between Cary +Clydesdale on one side and Cairns and Reggie Ledyard on the other--and +gradually was participated in by everybody except Aunt Hannah, who +grimly watched it from the library window. But her weather eye never +left Mrs. Clydesdale. + +She was still standing at the window when somebody entered the library +behind her, and somebody else followed. She knew who they were; the +curtains screened her. For one second the temptation to listen beset +her, but she put it away with a sniff, and had already turned to +disclose herself when she heard Mrs. Clydesdale say something that +stiffened her into a rigid silence. + +What followed stiffened her still more--and there were only a few words, +too--only: + +"For God's sake, what are you thinking of?" from Desboro; and from Elena +Clydesdale: + +"This has got to end--I can't stand it, Jim----" + +"Stand what?" + +"Him! And what you are doing!" + +"Be careful! Do you want people to overhear us?" he said, in a low voice +of concentrated anger. + +"Then where----" + +"I don't know. Wait until these people leave----" + +"To-night?" + +"How can we see each other to-night!" + +"Cary is going to New York----" + +Voices approaching through the hall warned him: + +"All right, to-night," he said, desperately. "Go out into the hall." + +"To-night, Jim?" + +"Yes." + +She turned and walked out into the hall. He heard her voice calmly +joining in the chatter now approaching, and, without any reason, he +walked to the window. And found Mrs. Hammerton there. + +Astonishment and anger left him dumb and scarlet to the roots of his +hair. + +"It isn't my fault," she hissed. "You and that other fool had already +committed yourselves before I could stir to warn you. What do I care for +your vile little intrigues, anyway! I don't have to listen behind +curtains to learn what anybody could have seen at the Metropolitan +Opera----" + +"You are absolutely mistaken----" + +"No doubt, James. But whether I am or not makes absolutely no difference +to me--or to Jacqueline Nevers----" + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"What I say, exactly. It will make no difference to Jacqueline, because +you are going to keep your distance." + +"Do you think so?" + +"If you don't keep away from her I'll tell her a few things. Listen to +me very carefully, James. You think I'm fond of you, don't you? Well, I +am. But I've taken a fancy to Jacqueline Nevers that--well, if I were +not childless I might feel it less deeply. I've put my arms around her +once and for all. Now do you understand?" + +"I tell you," he said steadily, "you are mistaken in believing----" + +"Very well. Granted. What of it? One dirty little intrigue more or less +doesn't alter what you are and have been. The plain point of the matter +is this, James: you are not fit to aspire seriously to Jacqueline +Nevers. Are you? I ask you, now, honestly; are you?" + +"Does that concern you?" + +She fairly snapped her teeth and her eyes sparkled: + +"Yes; it concerns me! Keep away! I warn you--you and the rest of the +Jacks and Reggies and similar assorted pups. Your hunting ground is +elsewhere." + +A sort of cold fury possessed him: "You had better not say anything to +Miss Nevers about what you overheard in this room," he said in a +colourless voice. + +"I'll use my own judgment," she retorted tartly. + +"Use mine. It is perhaps better. Don't interfere." + +"Don't be a fool, James." + +"Will you listen to me----" + +"About Elena Clydesdale?" she asked maliciously. + +"There is nothing to tell about her." + +"Naturally. I never heard the Desboros were blackguards--only a trifle +airy, James--a trifle gallant! Dear child, don't anger me. You know it +wouldn't be well for you." + +"I ask you merely to mind your business." + +"That I shall do. My life's business is Jacqueline. You yourself made +her so----" Malice indescribable snapped in her tiny black eyes, and she +laughed harshly. "You made that motherless girl my business. Ask +yourself if you've ever, inadvertently, done as decent a thing?" + +"Do you understand that I wish to marry her?" he asked, white with +passion. + +"_You!_ What do I care what your patronising intentions may be? And, +James, if you drive me to it----" she fairly glared at him, "--I'll +destroy even your acquaintanceship with her. And I possess the means to +do it!" + +"Try it!" he motioned with dry lips. + +A moment later the animated chatter of young people filled the room, and +among them sounded Jacqueline's voice. + +"Oh!" she said, laughing, when she saw Mrs. Hammerton and Desboro coming +from the embrasure of the window. "Have you been flirting again, Aunt +Hannah!" + +"Yes," said the old lady grimly, "and I think I've taken him into camp." + +"Then it's my turn," said Jacqueline. "Come on, Mr. Desboro, you can't +escape me. I'm going to beat you a game of rabbit!" + +Everybody drifted into the billiard-room at their heels, and found them +already at their stations on either side of the pool table, each one +covering the side pocket with left hand spread wide. Jacqueline had the +cue-ball; it lay on the cloth in front of her, and her slim right hand +covered it. + +"Ready?" she asked of Desboro. + +"Ready," he said, watching her. + +She made a feint; he sprang to the left; she shot the ball toward the +right corner pocket, missed, carromed, and tried to recover it; but +Desboro's arm shot out across the cloth and he seized it and shot it at +her left corner pocket. It went in with a plunk! + +"One for Jim!" said Reggie gravely, and, picking up a cue, scored with a +button overhead. + +"Plunk!" went the ball again into the same pocket; and Jacqueline gave a +little cry of dismay as Desboro leaned far over the table, threatening, +feinting, moving the ball so fast she could scarcely follow his hand. +Then she thought she saw the crisis coming, sprang toward the left +corner pocket, gave a cry of terror, and plunk! went the ball into her +side pocket. + +Flushed, golden hair in pretty disorder, she sprang back on guard again, +and the onlookers watched the movement of her hands, fascinated by their +grace and beauty as she defended her side of the table and, finally, +snatched the ball from the very jaws of the right corner. + +It was a breathless, exciting game, even for rabbit, and was fought to a +furious finish; but she went down to defeat, and Desboro came around the +table to condole with her, and together they stepped aside to leave the +arena free for Katharine Frere and Reggie. + +"I'm so sorry, dear," he said under his breath. + +"It's what I want, Jim. Never let me take the lead again--in anything." + +His laugh was not genuine. He glanced across the room and saw Aunt +Hannah pretending not to watch him. Near her stood Elena Clydesdale +beside her husband, making no such pretence. + +He said in a low voice: "Jacqueline, would you marry me as soon as I can +get a license--if I asked you to do it?" + +She blushed furiously; then walked over to the window and gazed out, +dismayed and astounded. He followed. + +"Will you, dear? I have the very best of reasons for asking you." + +"Could you tell me the reasons, Jim?" she asked, still dazed. + +"I had rather not--if you don't mind. Will you trust me when I say it is +better for us to marry quietly and at once?" + +She looked up at him dumbly, the scarlet slowly fading from brow and +cheek. + +"Do you trust me?" he repeated. + +"Yes--I trust you." + +"Will you marry me, then, as soon as I can arrange for it?" + +She was silent. + +"Will you?" he urged. + +"Jim--darling--I wanted to be equipped--I wanted to have some pretty +things, in order to--to be at my very best--for you. A girl is a bride +only once in her life; a man remembers her as she came to him first." + +"Dearest, as I saw you first, so I will always think of you." + +"Oh, Jim! In that black gown and cuffs and collar!" + +"You don't understand men, dear. No coronation robe ever could compete +with that dress in my affections. You always are perfect; I never saw +you when you weren't bewitching----" + +"But, dear, there are other things----" + +"We'll buy them together!" + +"Jim, _must_ we do it this way? I don't mean that I wished for any +ostentation----" + +"I did! I would have wished for a ceremony suited to your beauty +and----" + +"No, no! I didn't expect----" + +"But I did--damn it!" he said between his teeth. "I wished it; I +expected it. Don't you think I know what a girl ought to have? Indeed I +do, Jacqueline. And in New York town another century will never see a +bride to compare with you! But, my darling, I cannot risk it!" + +"Risk it?" + +"Don't ask me any more." + +"No." + +"And--will you do it--for my sake?" + +"Yes." + +There was a silence between them; he lighted a cigarette, turned coolly +around, and glanced across the room. Elena instantly averted her gaze. +Mrs. Hammerton sustained his pleasant inspection with an unchanging +stare almost insolent. + +After a moment he smiled at her. It was a mistake to do it. + + * * * * * + +After luncheon, Elena Clydesdale found an opportunity for a word with +him. + +"Will you remember that you have an engagement to-night?" she said in a +guarded voice. + +"I shall break it," he replied. + +"What!" + +"This is going to end here and now! Your business is with your husband. +He's a decent fellow; he's devoted to you. I won't even discuss it with +you. Break with him if you want to, but don't count on me!" + +"I can't break with him unless I can count on you. Are you going to lie +to me, Jim?" + +"You can call it what you like. But if you break with him it will end +our friendship." + +"I tell you I've _got_ to break with him. I've got to do it now--at +once!" + +"Why?" + +"Because--because I've got to. I can't go on fencing with him." + +"Oh!" + +She crimsoned and set her little white teeth. + +"I've got to leave him or be what--I won't be!" + +"Then break with him," he said contemptuously, "and give a decent man +another chance in life!" + +"I can't--unless you----" + +"Good God! I'd sooner cut my throat. My sympathy is for your husband. +You're convicting yourself, I tell you! I've always had a dim idea that +he was all right. Now I know it--and my obligations to you are ended." + +"Then--you leave me--to him? Answer me, Jim. You refuse to stand between +me and my--my degradation? Is that what you mean to do? Knowing I have +no other means of escaping it except through you--except by defying the +world with you!" + +She broke off with a sob. + +"Elena," he said, "your one salvation in this world is to have children! +It will mean happiness and honour for you both--mutual respect, and, if +not romantic love, at least a cordial understanding and mutual +toleration. If you have such a chance, don't throw it away. Your husband +is a slow, intelligent, kind, and patient man, who has borne much from +you because he is honestly in love with you. Don't mistake his +consideration for weakness, his patience for acquiescence. What kindness +you have pretended to show him recently has given him courage. He is +trying to make good because he believes that he can win you. This is +clear reason; it is logic, Elena." + +She turned on him in a flash of tears and exasperation. + +"Logic! Do you think a woman wants that?" she stammered. "Do you think a +woman arrives at any conclusion through the kind of reasoning that +satisfies men? What difference does what you say make to me, when I hate +_him_ and I love _you_? How does your logic help me to escape what +is--is abhorrent to me! Do you suppose your reasoning makes it more +endurable? Oh, Jim! For heaven's sake don't leave me to that--that man! +Let me come here this evening after he has gone, and try to explain to +you how I----" + +"No." + +"You won't!" + +"No. I am going to town with Mrs. Hammerton and Miss Nevers on the +evening train. And some day I am going to marry Miss Nevers." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +During her week's absence from town Jacqueline's mail had accumulated; a +number of business matters had come into the office, the disposal of +which now awaited her decision--requests from wealthy connoisseurs for +expert opinion, offers to dispose of collections entire or in part, +invitations to dealers' secret conferences, urgent demands for +appraisers, questions concerning origin or authenticity, commissions to +buy, sell, advertise, or send searchers throughout the markets at home +or abroad for anything from a tiny shrine of Limoges enamel to a +complete suit of equestrian armour to fill a gap in a series belonging +to some rich man's museum. + +On the evening of her arrival at the office, she was beset by her clerks +and salesmen, bringing to her hundreds of petty routine details +requiring her personal examination. Also, it appeared that one of her +clients had been outrageously swindled by a precious pair of +fly-by-nights; and the matter required immediate investigation. So she +was obliged to telephone to Mrs. Hammerton that she could not dine with +her at the Ritz, and to Desboro that she could not see him for a day or +two. In Desboro's case, a postscript added: "Except for a minute, +dearest, whenever you come." + +She did not even take the time to dine that evening, but settled down at +her office desk as soon as the retail shop below was closed; and, with +the tea urn and a rack of toast at her elbow, plunged straight into the +delightfully interesting chaos confronting her. + +As far as the shop was concerned, the New Year, as usual, had brought to +that part of the business a lull in activity. It always happened so +after New Years; and the stagnation steadily increased as spring +approached, until by summer time the retail business was practically +dead. + +But a quiet market did not mean that there was nothing for her to do. +Warehouse sales must be watched, auctions, public and private, in town +and country, must be attended by one or more of her representatives; +private clients inclined to sell always required tactful handling and +careful consideration; her confidential agents must always be alert. + +Also, always her people were continually searching for various objects +ardently desired by all species of acquisitive clients; she must keep in +constant touch with everything that was happening in her business +abroad; she must keep abreast of her times at home, which required much +cleverness, intuition, and current reading, and much study in the Museum +and among private collections to which she had access. She was a very, +very busy girl, almost too busy at moments to remember that she had +fallen in love. + +That night she worked alone in her office until long after midnight; and +all the next day until noon she was busy listening to or instructing +salesmen, clerks, dealers, experts, auctioneers, and clients. Also, the +swindle and the swindlers were worrying her extremely. + +Luncheon had been served on a tray beside her desk, and she was still +absent-mindedly going over the carbon files of business letters, which +she had dictated and dispatched that morning, when Desboro's card was +brought to her. She sent word that she would receive him. + +"Will you lunch with me, Jim?" she asked demurely, when he had appeared +and shaken hands vigorously. "I've a fruit salad and some perfectly +delicious sherbet! Please sit on the desk top and help me consume the +banquet." + +"Do you call that a banquet, darling?" he demanded. "Come out to the +Ritz with me this instant----" + +"Dearest! I can't! Oh, you don't know what an exciting and interesting +mess my business affairs are in! A girl always has to pay for her +pleasure. But in this case it's a pleasure to pay. Bring up that chair +and share my luncheon like a good fellow, so we can chat together for a +few minutes. It's all the time I can give you to-day, dearest." + +He pulled up a chair and seated himself, experiencing somewhat mixed +emotions in the presence of such bewildering business capability. + +"You make me feel embarrassed and ashamed," he said. "Rotten loafer that +I am! And you so energetic and industrious--you darling thing!" + +"But, dear, your farmer can't plow frozen ground, you know; all your men +can do just now is to mend fences and dump fertiliser and lime and +gypsum over everything. And I believe they were doing that when I left." + +"If," he said, "I were a real instead of a phony farmer, I'd read +catalogues about wire fences; I'd find plenty to do if I were not a +wretched sham. It's only, I hope, because you're in town that I can't +drive myself back where I belong. I ought to be sitting in a wood-shed, +in overalls, whittling sticks and yelling bucolic wisdom at Ezra +Vail---- Oh, you needn't laugh, darling, but that's where I ought to be, +and what I ought to be doing if I'm ever going to support a wife!" + +"Jim! You're _not_ going to support a wife! You absurd boy!" + +"What!" he demanded, losing countenance. + +"Did you think you were obliged to support me? How ridiculous! I'd be +perfectly miserable----" + +"Jacqueline! What on earth do you mean? We are going to live on my +income." + +"Indeed we are not! What use would I be to you if I brought you nothing +except an idle, useless, lazy girl to support! It's unthinkable!" + +"Do you expect to _remain_ in business?" he asked, incredulously. + +"Certainly I expect it!" + +"But--darling----" + +"Jim! I _love_ my business. It was father's business; it represents my +childhood, my girlhood, my maturity. Every detail of it is inextricably +linked with memories of him--the dearest memories, the tenderest +associations of my life! Do you wish me to give them up?" + +"How can you be my wife, Jacqueline, and still remain a business woman?" + +"Dear, I am certainly going to marry you. Permit me to arrange the rest. +It will not interfere with my being your devoted and happy wife. It +wouldn't ever interfere with--with my being a--a perfectly good +mother--if that's what you fear. If it did, do you suppose I'd hesitate +to choose?" + +"No," he said, adoring her. + +"Indeed, I wouldn't! But remaining in business will give me what every +girl should have as a right--an object in life apart from her love for +her husband--and children--apart from her proper domestic duties. It is +her right to engage in the business of life; it makes the contract +between you and me fairer. I love you more than anything in the world, +but I simply couldn't keep my self-respect and depend on you for +everything I have." + +"But, my darling, everything I have is already yours." + +"Yes, I know. We can pretend it is. I know I _could_ have it--just as +you could have this rather complicated business of mine--if you want +it." + +"Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed. "Imagine the fury of a connoisseur who engaged +me to identify his priceless penates!" + +He was laughing, too, now. They had finished their fruit salad and +sherbet; she lighted a cigarette for him, taking a dainty puff and +handing it to him with an adorable shudder. + +"I _don't_ like it! I don't like any vices! How women can enjoy what men +enjoy is a mystery to me. Smoke slowly, darling, because when that +cigarette is finished you must make a very graceful bow and say good-bye +to me until to-morrow." + +"This is simply devilish, Jacqueline! I never see you any more." + +"Nonsense! You have plenty to do to amuse you--haven't you, dear?" + +But the things that once occupied his leisure so casually and so +agreeably no longer attracted him. + +"I don't want to read seed catalogues," he protested. "Couldn't I be of +use to you, Jacqueline? I'll do anything you say--take off my coat and +sweep out your office, or go behind the counter in the shop and sell +gilded gods----" + +"Imagine the elegant Mr. Desboro selling antiquities to the dangerous +monomaniacs who haunt such shops as mine! Dear, they'd either drive you +crazy or have you arrested for fraud inside of ten minutes. No; you will +make a perfectly good husband, Jim, but you were never created to +decorate an antique shop." + +He tried to smile, but only flushed rather painfully. A sudden and +wholly inexplicable sense of inferiority possessed him. + +"You know," he said, "I'm not going to stand around idle while you run a +prosperous business concern. And anyway, I can't see it, Jacqueline. You +and I are going to have a lot of social obligations to----" + +"We are likely to have all kinds of obligations," she interrupted +serenely, "and our lives are certain to be very full, and you and I are +going to be equal to every opportunity, every demand, every +responsibility--and still have leisure to love each other, and to be to +each other everything that either could desire." + +"After all," he said, serious and unconvinced, "there are only +twenty-four hours in a day for us to be together." + +"Yes, darling, but there will be no wasted time in those twenty-four +hours. That is where we save a sufficient number of minutes to attend to +the business of life." + +"Do you mean that you intend to come into this office every day?" + +"For a while, yes. Less frequently when I have trained my people a +little longer. What do you suppose my father was doing all his life? +What do you suppose I have been doing these last three years? Why, Jim, +except that hitherto I have loved to fuss over details, this office and +this business could almost run itself for six months at a time. Some +day, except for special clients here and there, Lionel Sissly will do +what expert work I now am doing; and this desk will be his; and his +present position will be filled by Mr. Mirk. That is how it is planned. +And if you had given me two or three months, I might have been able to +go on a bridal trip with you!" + +"We _are_ going, aren't we?" he asked, appalled. + +"If I've got to marry you offhand," she said seriously, "our wedding +trip will have to wait. Don't you know, dear, that it always costs +heavily to do anything in a hurry? At this time of year, and under the +present conditions of business, and considering my contracts and +obligations, it would be utterly impossible for me to go away again +until summer." + +He sprang up irritated, yet feeling utterly helpless under her friendly +but level gaze. Already he began to realise the true significance of her +position and his own in the world; how utterly at a moral disadvantage +he stood before this young girl--moral, intellectual, spiritual--he was +beginning to comprehend it all now. + +A dull flush of anger made his face hot and altered his expression +to sullenness. Where was all this leading them, anyway--this reversal +of rôles, this self-dependent attitude of hers--this calm +self-reliance--this freedom of decision? + +Once he had supposed there was something in her to protect, to guide, +advise, make allowance for--perhaps to persuade, possibly, even, to +instruct. Such has been the immemorial attitude of man; it had been +instinctively, and more or less unconsciously, his. + +And now, in spite of her youth, her soft pliability, her almost childish +grace and beauty, he was experiencing a half-dazed sensation as though, +in full and confident career, he had come, slap! into collision with an +occult barrier. And the impact was confusing him and even beginning to +hurt him. + +He looked around him uneasily. Everything in the office, somehow, seemed +to be in subtle league with her to irritate him--her desk, her loaded +letter-files, her stacks of ledgers--all these accused and offended him. +But most of all his own helpless inferiority made him angry and +ashamed--the inferiority of idleness confronted by industry; of +aimlessness face to face with purpose; of irresolution and degeneracy +scrutinised by fearlessness, confidence, and happy and innocent +aspiration. And the combination silenced him. + +And every mute second that he stood there, he felt as though something +imperceptible, intangible, was slipping away from him--perhaps his man's +immemorial right to lead, to decide, to direct the common destiny of +this slim, sweet-lipped young girl and himself. + +For it was she who was serenely deciding--who had already laid out the +business of life for herself without hesitation, without resort to him, +to his man's wisdom, experience, prejudices, wishes, desires. Moreover, +she was leaving him absolutely free to decide his own business in life +for himself; and that made her position unassailable. For if she had +presumed to advise him, to suggest, even hint at anything interfering +with his own personal liberty to decide for himself, he might have found +some foothold, some niche, something to sustain him, to justify him, in +assuming man's immemorial right to leadership. + +"Dear," she said wistfully, "you look at me with such very troubled +eyes. Is there anything I have said that you disapprove?" + +"I had not expected you to remain in business," was all he found to say. + +"If my remaining in business ever interferes with your happiness or with +my duty to you, I will give it up. You know that, don't you?" + +He reddened again. + +"It looks queer," he muttered, "--your being in business and I--playing +farmer--like one of those loafing husbands of celebrated actresses." + +"Jim!" she exclaimed, scarlet to the ears. "What a horrid simile!" + +"It's myself I'm cursing out," he said, almost angrily. "I can't cut +such a figure. Don't you understand, Jacqueline? I haven't anything to +occupy me! Do you expect me to hang around somewhere while you work? I +tell you, I've got to find something to do as soon as we're married--or +I couldn't look you in the face." + +"That is for you to decide. Isn't it?" she asked sweetly. + +"Yes, but on what am I to decide?" + +"Whatever you decide, don't do it in a hurry, dear," she said, smiling. + +The sullen sense of resentment returned, reddening his face again: + +"I wouldn't have to hurry if you'd give up this business and live on +our income and be free to travel and knock about with me----" + +"Can't you understand that I _will_ be free to be with you--free in +mind, in conscience, in body, to travel with you, be with you, be to you +whatever you desire--but only if I keep my self-respect! And I can't +keep that if I neglect the business of life, which, in my case, lies +partly here in this office." + +She rose and laid one slim, pretty hand on his shoulder. She rarely +permitted herself to touch him voluntarily. + +"Don't you wish me to be happy?" she asked gently. + +"It's all I wish in the world, Jacqueline." + +"But I couldn't be happy and remain idle; remain dependent on you for +anything--except love. Life to the full--every moment filled--that is +what living means to me. And only one single thing never can fill one's +life--not intellectual research alone; not spiritual remoteness; nor yet +the pursuit of pleasure; nor the swift and endless hunt for happiness; +nor even love, dearest among men! Only the business of life can quite +fill life to the brimming for me; and that business is made up of +everything worthy--of the pleasures of effort, duty, aspiration, and +noble repose, but never of the pleasures of idleness. Jim, have I bored +you with a sermon? Forgive me; I am preaching only to instruct myself." + +He took her hand from his shoulder and stood holding it and looking at +her with a strange expression. So dazed, yet so terribly intent he +seemed at moments that she laid her other hand over his, pressing it in +smiling anxiety. + +"What is it, dearest?" she murmured. "Don't you approve of me as much +as you thought you did? Am I disappointing you already?" + +"Good God!" he muttered to himself. "If there is a heaven, and your sort +inhabit it, hell was reformed long ago." + +"What are you muttering all to yourself, Jim?" she insisted. "What +troubles you?" + +"I'll tell you. You've picked the wrong man. I'm absolutely unfit for +you. I know about all those decent things you believe in--all the things +you _are_! But I don't know about them from personal experience; I never +did anything decent because it was my duty to do it--except by accident. +I never took a spiritual interest in anything or anybody, including +myself! I never made a worthy effort; I never earned one second's worth +of noble repose. And now--if there's anything in me to begin on--it's +probably my duty to release you until I have made something of myself, +before I come whining around asking you to marry a man not fit to +marry----" + +"My darling!" she protested, half laughing, half in tears, and closing +his angry lips with both her hands. "I want _you_, not a saint or a holy +man, or an archangel fresh from paradise! I want you as you _are_--as +you have been--as you are going to be dear! Did any girl who ever lived +find pleasure in perfection? Even in art it is undesirable. That's the +beauty of aspiration; the pleasures of effort never pall. I don't know +whether I'm laughing or crying, Jim! You look so solemn and miserable, +and--and funny! But if you try to look dignified now, I'll certainly +laugh! You dear, blessed, overgrown boy--just as bad as you possibly can +be! Just as funny and unreasonable and perverse as are all boys! But +Jacqueline loves you dearly--oh, dearly--and she trusts you with her +heart and her happiness and with every beauty yet undreamed and +unrevealed that a girl could learn to desire on earth! Are you +contented? Oh, Jim! Jim! If you knew how I adore you! You must go, dear. +It will mean a long night's work for me if you don't. But it's so hard +to let you go--when I--love you so! When I love you so! Good-bye. Yes, +to-morrow. Don't call at noon; Mrs. Hammerton is coming for a +five-minute chat. And I do want you to myself for the few moments we may +have together. Come about five and we can have tea here beside my desk." + + * * * * * + +He came next day at five. The day after that he arrived at the same +hour, bringing with him her ring; and, as he slipped it over her finger, +for the first time her self-control slipped, too, and she bent swiftly +and kissed the jewel that he was holding. + +Then, flushed and abashed, she shrank away, an exquisite picture of +confusion, and stood turning and turning the ring around, her head +obstinately lowered, absolutely unresponsive again to his arm around her +and his cheek resting close against hers. + +"What a beauty of a ring, Jim!" she managed to say at last. "No other +engagement ring ever existed half as lovely and splendid as my betrothal +ring. I am sorry for all the empresses and queens and princesses who can +never hope to possess a ring to equal the ring of Jacqueline Nevers, +dealer in antiquities." + +"Nor can they hope to possess such a hand to adorn it," he said, "--the +most beautiful, the purest, whitest, softest, most innocent hand in the +world! The magic hand of Jacqueline!" + +"Do you like it?" she asked, shyly conscious of its beauty. + +"It is matchless, darling. Let empresses shriek with envy." + +"I'm listening very intently, but I don't hear them. Jim. Also, I've +seen a shop-girl with far lovelier hands. But please go on thinking so +and hearing crowned heads shriek. I rather like your imagination." + +He laughed from sheer happiness: + +"I've got something to whisper to you. Shall I?" + +"What?" + +"Shall I whisper it?" + +She inclined her small head daintily, then: + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, startled and blushing to the tips of her ears. + +"Will you be ready?" + +"I--yes. Yes--I'll be ready----" + +"Does it make you happy?" + +"I can't realise--I didn't know it was to be so soon--so immediate----" + +"We'll go to Silverwood. We can catch the evening express----" + +"Dearest!" + +"You can go away with me for _one_ week, can't you?" + +"I can't go now!" she faltered. + +"For how long can you go, Jacqueline?" + +"I--I've got to be back on Tuesday morning." + +"Tuesday!" + +"Isn't it dreadful, Jim. But I can't avoid it if we are to be married on +Monday next. I must deal honourably by my clients who trust me. I +warned you that our wedding trip would have to be postponed if you +married me this way--didn't I, dear?" + +"Yes." + +She stood looking at him timidly, almost fearfully, as he took two or +three quick, nervous steps across the floor, turned and came back to +her. + +"All right," he said. "Our wedding trip will have to wait, then; but our +wedding won't. We'll be married Monday, go to Silverwood, and come back +Tuesday--if it's a matter of honour. I never again mean to interfere +with your life's business, Jacqueline. You know what is best; you are +free and entitled to the right of decision." + +"Yes. But because I _must_ decide about things that concern myself +alone, you don't think I adore you any the less, do you, Jim?" + +"Nor do I love you the less, Jacqueline, because I can decide nothing +for you, do nothing for you." + +"Jim! You _can_ decide everything for me--do everything! And you _have_ +done everything for me--by giving me my freedom to decide for myself!" + +"_I_ gave it to you, Jacqueline?" + +"Did you think I would have taken it if you had refused it?" + +"But you said your happiness depended on it." + +"Which is why you gave it to me, isn't it?" she asked seriously. + +He laughed. "You wonderful girl, to make me believe that any generosity +of mine is responsible for your freedom!" + +"But it is! Otherwise, I would have obeyed you and been disgraced in my +own estimation." + +"Do you mean that mine is to be the final decision always?" + +"Why, of course, Jim." + +He laughed again. "Empty authority, dear--a shadowy symbol of +traditional but obsolete prerogative." + +"You are wrong. Your decision is final. But--as I know it will always be +for my happiness, I can always appeal from your prejudice to your +intelligence," she added naïvely. And for a moment was surprised at his +unrestrained laughter. + +"What does it matter?" she admitted, laughing, too. "Between you and me +the right thing always will be done sooner or later." + +His laughter died out; he said soberly: "Always, God willing. It may be +a little hard for me to learn--as it's hard, now, for example, to say +good-bye." + +"Jim!" + +"You know I must, darling." + +"But I don't mind sitting up a few minutes later to-night----" + +"I know you don't. But here's where I exercise my harmlessly arbitrary +authority for your happiness and for the sake of your good digestion." + +"What a brute you are!" + +"I know it. Back to your desk, darling! And go to bed early." + +"I wanted you to stay----" + +"Ha! So you begin to feel the tyranny of man! I'm going! I've got a job, +too, if you want to know." + +"What!" + +"Certainly! How long did you suppose I could stand it to see you at +that desk and then go and sit in a silly club?" + +"What do you mean, darling?" she asked, radiant. + +"I mean that Jack Cairns, who is a broker, has offered me a job at a +small but perfectly proper salary, with the usual commission on all +business I bring in to the office. And I've taken it!" + +"But, dear----" + +"Oh, Vail can run my farm without any advice from me. I'm going to give +him more authority and hold him responsible. If the place can pay for +itself and let us keep the armour and jades, that's all I ask of it. But +I am asking more of myself--since I have begun to really know you. And +I'm going to work for our bread and butter, and earn enough to support +us both and lay something aside. You know we've got to think of that, +because----" He looked very serious, hesitated, bent and whispered +something that sent the bright colour flying in her cheeks; then he +caught her hand and kissed the ring-finger. + +"Good-bye," she murmured, clinging for an instant to his hand. + +The next moment he was gone; and she stood alone for a while by her +desk, his ring resting against her lips, her eyes closed. + + * * * * * + +Sunday she spent with him. They went together to St. John's Cathedral in +the morning--the first time he had been inside a church in years. And he +was in considerable awe of the place and of her until they finally +emerged into the sunshine of Morningside Park. + +Under a magnificent and cloudless sky, they walked together, silent or +loquacious by turns, bold and shy, confident and timid. And she was a +little surprised to find that, in the imminence of marriage, her +trepidation was composure itself compared to the anxiety which seemed to +assail him. All he had thought of was the license and the clergyman; and +they had attended to those matters together. But she had wished him to +have Jack Cairns present, and had told him that she desired to ask some +friend of her girlhood to be her bridesmaid. + +"Have you done so?" he inquired, as they descended the heights of +Morningside, the beautiful weather tempting them to a long homeward +stroll through Central Park. + +"Yes, Jim, I must tell you about her. She, like myself, is not a girl +that men of your sort might expect to meet----" + +"The loss is ours, Jacqueline." + +"That is very sweet of you. Only I had better tell you about Cynthia +Lessler----" + +"Who?" he asked, astonished. + +"Cynthia Lessler, my girlhood friend." + +"She is an actress, isn't she?" + +"Yes. Her home life was very unhappy. But I think she has much talent, +too." + +"She has." + +"I am glad you think so. Anyway, she is my oldest friend, and I have +asked her to be my bridesmaid to-morrow." + +He continued silent beside her so long that she said timidly: + +"Do you mind, Jim?" + +"I was only thinking--how it might look in the papers--and there are +other girls you already know whose names would mean a lot----" + +"Yes, I know. But I don't want to pretend to be what I am not, even in +the papers. I suppose I do need all the social corroboration I can have. +I know what you mean, dear. But there were reasons. I thought it all +over. Cynthia is an old friend, not very happy, not the fortunate and +blessed girl that your love is making of me. But she is good and sweet +and loyal to me, and I can't abandon old friends, especially one who is +not very fortunate--and I--I thought perhaps it might help her a +little--in various ways--to be my bridesmaid." + +"That is like you," he said, reddening. "You never say or do anything +but there lies in it some primary lesson in decency to me." + +"You goose! Isn't it natural for a girl to wish for her oldest friend at +such a time? That's really all there is to the matter. And I do hope you +will like Cynthia." + +He nodded, preoccupied. After a few moments he said: + +"Did you know that Jack Cairns had met her?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh!" His troubled eyes sought hers, then shifted. + +"That was another reason I wish to ask her," she said in a low voice. + +"What reason?" + +"Because Mr. Cairns knew her only as a very young, very lonely, very +unhappy girl, inexperienced, friendless, poor, almost shelterless; and +engaged in a profession upon which it is almost traditional for men to +prey. And I wish him to know her again as a girl who is slowly +advancing in an honest profession--as a modest, sweet, self-respecting +woman--and as my friend." + +"And mine," he said. + +"You--darling!" she whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +They were married in the morning at St. George's in Stuyvesant Square. + +Gay little flurries of snow, like wind-blown petals from an apple bough, +were turning golden in the warm outbreak of brilliant sunshine; and +there was blue sky overhead and shining wet pavements under foot as +Jacqueline and Desboro came out of the shadows of the old-time church +into the fresh splendour of the early morning. + +The solemn beauty of the service still possessed and enthralled them. +Except for a low word or two, they were inclined to silence. + +But the mating sparrows were not; everywhere the little things, brown +wings a-quiver, chattered and chirped in the throes of courtship; now +and then, from some high façade rang out the clear, sweet whistle of a +starling; and along the warm, wet streets ragged children were selling +violets and narcissus, and yellow tulips tinted as delicately as the +pale spring sunshine. + +A ragged little girl came to stare at Jacqueline, the last unsold bunch +of wilted violets lying on her tray; and Jacqueline laid the cluster +over the prayer-book which she was carrying, while Desboro slipped a +golden coin into the child's soiled hand. + +Down the street his chauffeur was cranking the car; and while they +waited for it to draw up along the curb, Jacqueline separated a few +violets from the faintly fragrant cluster and placed them between the +leaves of her prayer-book. + +After a few moments he said, under his breath: + +"Do you realise that we are married, Jacqueline?" + +"No. Do you?" + +"I'm trying to comprehend it, but I can't seem to. How soft the breeze +blows! It is already spring in Stuyvesant Square." + +"The Square is lovely! They will be setting out hyacinths soon, I +think." She shivered. "It's strange," she said, "but I feel rather cold. +Am I horridly pale, Jim?" + +"You are a trifle colourless--but even prettier than I ever saw you," he +whispered, turning up the collar of her fur coat around her throat. "You +haven't taken cold, have you?" + +"No; it is--natural--I suppose. Miracles frighten one at first." + +Their eyes met; she tried to smile. After a moment he said nervously: + +"I sent out the announcements. The evening papers will have them." + +"I want to see them, Jim." + +"You shall. I have ordered all this evening's and to-morrow morning's +papers. They will be sent to Silverwood." + +The car rolled up along the curb and stopped. + +"Can't I take you to your office?" he whispered. + +"No, dear." + +She laid one slim hand on his arm and stood for a moment looking at him. + +"How pale you are!" he said again, under his breath. + +"Brides are apt to be. It's only a swift and confused dream to me +yet--all that has happened to us to-day; and even this sunshine seems +unreal--like the first day of spring in paradise!" + +She bent her proud little head and stood in silence as though unseen +hands still hovered above her, and unseen lips were still pronouncing +her his wife. Then, lifting her eyes, winningly and divinely beautiful, +she looked again on this man whom the world was to call her husband. + +"Will you be ready at five?" he whispered. + +"Yes." + +They lingered a moment longer; he said: + +"I don't know how I am going to endure life without you until five +o'clock." + +She said seriously: "I can't bear to leave you, Jim. But you know you +have almost as many things to do as I have." + +"As though a man could attend to _things_ on his wedding day!" + +"This girl _has_ to. I don't know how I am ever going to go through the +last odds and ends of business--but it's got to be managed somehow. Do +you really think we had better go up to Silverwood in the car? Won't +this snow make the roads bad? It may not have melted in the country." + +"Oh, it's all right! And I'll have you to myself in the car----" + +"Suppose we are ditched?" She shivered again, then forced a little +laugh. "Do you know, it doesn't seem possible to me that I am going to +be your wife to-morrow, too, and the next day, and the next, and always, +year after year. Somehow, it seems as though our dream were already +ending--that I shall not see you at five o'clock--that it is all +unreal----" + +The smile faded, and into her blue eyes came something resembling +fear--gone instantly--but the hint of it had been there, whatever it +was; and the ghost of it still lingered in her white, flower-like face. + +She whispered, forcing the smile again: "Happiness sometimes frightens; +and it is making me a little afraid, I think. Come for me at five, Jim, +and try to make me comprehend that nothing in the world can ever harm +us. Tell your man where to take me--but only to the corner of my street, +please." + +He opened the limousine door; she stepped in, and he wrapped the robe +around her. A cloud over the sun had turned the world grey for a moment. +Again she seemed to feel the sudden chill in the air, and tried to shake +it off. + +"Look at Mr. Cairns and Cynthia," she whispered, leaning forward from +her seat and looking toward the church. + +He turned. Cairns and Miss Lessler had emerged from the portico and were +lingering there in earnest consultation, quite oblivious of them. + +"Do you like her, Jim?" she asked. + +He smiled. + +"I didn't notice her very much--or Jack either. A man isn't likely to +notice anybody at such a time--except the girl he is marrying----" + +"Look at her now. Don't you think her expression is very sweet?" + +"It's all right. Dear, do you suppose I can fix my attention on----" + +"You absurd boy! Are you really as much in love with me as that? Please +be nice to her. Would you mind going back and speaking to her when I +drive away?" + +"All right," he said. + +Their glances lingered for a moment more; then he drew a quick, sharp +breath, closed the limousine door, and spoke briefly to the chauffeur. + +As long as the car remained in sight across the square, he watched it; +then, when it had disappeared, he turned toward the church. But Cairns +and Cynthia were already far down the street, walking side by side, very +leisurely, apparently absorbed in conversation. They must have seen him. +Perhaps they had something more interesting to say to each other than to +him. + +He followed them irresolutely for a few steps, then, as the idea +persisted that they might not desire his company, he turned and started +west across the sunny, wet pavement. + + * * * * * + +It was quite true that Cairns and Cynthia had seen him; also it was a +fact that neither had particularly wanted him to join them at that exact +moment. + +Meeting at St. George's for the first time in two years, and although +prepared for the encounter, these two, who had once known each other so +well, experienced a slight shock when they met. The momentary contact of +her outstretched hand and his hand left them both very silent; even the +formal commonplaces had failed them after the first swift, curious +glance had been exchanged. + +Cairns noticed that she had grown taller and slenderer. And though there +seemed to be no more of maturity to her than to the young girl he had +once known, her poise and self-control were now in marked contrast to +the impulsive and slightly nervous Cynthia he had found so amusing in +callower days. + +Once or twice during the ceremony he had ventured to glance sideways at +her. In the golden half-light of the altar there seemed to be an +unfamiliar dignity and sweetness about the girl that became her. And in +the delicate oval of her face he thought he discerned those finer, +nobler contours made by endurance, by self-denial, and by sorrow. + +Later, when he saw her kiss Jacqueline, something in the sweet sincerity +of the salute suddenly set a hidden chord vibrating within him; and, to +his surprise, he found speech difficult for a moment, checked by +emotions for which there seemed no reason. + +And at last Jacqueline and Desboro went away, and Cynthia slowly turned +to him, offering her hand in adieu. + +"Mr. Cairns," she said quietly, "this is the last place on earth that +you and I ever thought to meet. Perhaps it is to be our last meeting +place. So--I will say good-bye----" + +"May I not walk home with you? Or, if you prefer to drive, my car is +here----" he began. + +"Thank you; it's only to the theatre--if you care to walk with me----" + +"Are you rehearsing?" + +"There is a rehearsal called for eleven." + +"Shall we drive or walk, Cynthia?" + +"I prefer to walk. Please don't feel that you ought to go back with me." + +He said, reddening: "I do not remember that my sense of duty toward you +has ever been persistent enough to embarrass either of us." + +"Of course not. Why should you ever have felt that you owed any duty to +me?" + +"I did not say that I ever felt it." + +"Of course not. You owed me none." + +"That is a different matter. Obligations once sat very lightly on my +shoulders." + +"You owe me none," she repeated smilingly, as they emerged from the +church into the warm March sunshine. + +He was saying: "But isn't friendship an obligation, Cynthia?" + +She laughed: "Friendship is merely an imaginary creation, and exists +only until the imagination wearies. That is not original," she added. +"It is in the new Barrie comedy we are rehearsing." + +She turned her pretty head and glanced down the street where Jacqueline +and Desboro still stood beside the car. Cairn's car was also waiting, +and its owner made a signal to the chauffeur that he did not need him. + +Looking at Jacqueline, Cynthia said: + +"Long ago I knew that she was fitted for a marriage such as this--or a +better one," she added in a lower voice. + +"A better one?" he repeated, surprised. + +"Yes," she nodded calmly. "Can you not imagine a more desirable marriage +for a girl?" + +"Don't you _like_ Desboro?" he demanded. + +"I like him--considering the fact that I scarcely know him. He has very +handsome and very reckless eyes, but a good mouth. To look at him for +the first time a woman would be inclined to like him--but he might +hesitate to trust him. I had hoped Jacqueline might marry a professional +man--considerably older than Mr. Desboro. That is all I meant." + +He said, looking at her smilingly but curiously: "Have you any idea, +Cynthia, how entirely you have changed in two years?" + +She shook her head: "I haven't changed." + +"Indeed you have----" + +"Only superficially. What I was born I shall always be. Years teach +endurance and self-control--if they teach anything. All one can learn is +how to control and direct what one already is." + +"The years have taught you a lot," he murmured, astonished. + +"I have been to school to many masters, Mr. Cairns; I have studied under +Sorrow; graduated under Poverty and Loneliness; and I am now taking a +finishing course with Experience. Truly enough, I should have learned +_something_, as you say, by this time. Besides, _you_, also, once were +kind enough to be interested in my education. Why should I not have +learned something?" + +He winced and bit his lip, watching Desboro and Jacqueline below. And, +after a moment: + +"Shall we walk?" she suggested, smilingly. + +He fell into step beside her. Half way down the block she glanced back. +Desboro was already crossing the square; the limousine had disappeared. + +"I wonder sometimes," she remarked, "what has become of all those +amusing people we once knew so well--Marianne Valdez, Jessie Dain, +Reggie Ledyard, Van Alstyne. Do you ever see them any more?" + +"Yes." + +"And are they quite as gay and crazy as ever?" + +"They're a bit wild--sometimes." + +"Do they ever speak of me? I--wonder," she mused, aloud. + +"Yes. They know, of course, what a clever girl you have turned into. It +isn't usual, you know, to graduate from a girlie show into the legit. +And I was talking to Schindler the other evening; and he had to admit +that he had seen nothing extraordinary in you when you were with his +noisy shows. It's funny, isn't it?" + +"Slightly." + +"Besides, you were such a wild little thing--don't you remember what +crazy things we used to do, you and I----" + +"Did I? Yes, I remember. In those days a good dinner acted on me like +champagne. You see I was very often hungry, and when I wasn't starved it +went to my head." + +"You need not have wanted for anything!" he said sharply. + +"Oh, no! But I preferred the pangs of hunger to the pangs of +conscience," she retorted gaily. + +"I didn't mean that. There was no string to what I offered you, and you +know it! And you know it now!" + +"Certainly I do," she said calmly. "You mean to be very kind, Jack." + +"Then why the devil didn't----" + +"Why didn't I accept food and warmth and raiment and lodging from a +generous and harebrained young man? I'll tell you now, if you wish. It +was because my conscience forbade me to accept all and offer nothing in +return." + +"Nonsense! I didn't ask----" + +"I know you didn't. But I couldn't give, so I wouldn't take. Besides, we +were together too much. I knew it. I think even you began to realise it, +too. The situation was impossible. So I went on the road." + +"You never answered any of those letters of mine." + +"Mentally I answered every one." + +"A lot of good that did me!" + +"It did us both a lot of good. I meant to write to you some day--when my +life had become busy enough to make it difficult for me to find time to +write." + +He looked up at her sharply, and she laughed and swung her muff. + +"I suppose," he said, "now that the town talks about you a little, you +will have no time to waste on mere Johnnies." + +"Well, I don't know. When a mere Johnnie is also a Jack, it makes a +difference--doesn't it? Do you think that you would care to see me +again?" + +"Of course I do." + +"The tickets," she said demurely, "are three dollars--two weeks in +advance----" + +"I know that by experience." + +"Oh! Then you _have_ seen 'The Better Way'?" + +"Certainly." + +"Do you like--the show?" + +"You are the best of it. Yes, I like it." + +"It's my first chance. Did you know that? If poor little Graham hadn't +been so ill, I'd never have had a look in. They wouldn't give me +anything--except in a way I couldn't accept it. I tell you, Jack, I was +desperate. There seemed to be absolutely no chance unless I--paid." + +"Why didn't you write me and let me----" + +"You know why." + +"It would have been reward enough to see you make good--and put it all +over that bald-headed, dog-faced----" + +"My employer, please remember," she said, pretending to reprove him. +"And, Jack, he's amusingly decent to me now. Men are really beginning to +be kind. Walbaum's people have written to me, and O'Rourke sent for me, +and I'm just beginning to make professional enemies, too, which is the +surest sign that I'm almost out of the ranks. If I could only study! Now +is the time! I know it; I feel it keenly--I realise how much I lack in +education! You see I only went to high-school. It's a mercy that my +English isn't hopeless----" + +"It's good! It's better than I ever supposed it would be----" + +"I know. I used to be careless. But what can you expect? After I left +home you know the sort of girls I was thrown among. Fortunately, father +was educated--if he was nothing else. My degeneracy wasn't permanent. +Also, I had been thrown with Jacqueline, and with you----" + +"Fine educational model I am!" + +"And," she continued, not heeding him, "when I met you, and men like +you, I was determined that whatever else happened to me my English +should not degenerate. Jacqueline helped me so much. I tried to study, +too, when I was not on the road with the show. But if only I could +study now--study seriously for a year or two!" + +"What do you wish to study, Cynthia?" he asked carelessly. + +"English! Also French and German and Italian. I would like to study what +girls in college study. Then I'd like to learn stage dancing thoroughly. +And, of course, I'm simply crazy to take a course in dramatic art----" + +"But you already know a lot! Every paper spoke well of you----" + +"Oh, Jack! Does that mean anything--when I know that I don't know +anything!" + +"Rot! Can you beat professional experience as an educator?" + +"I'm not quite ready for it----" + +"Very well. If you feel that way, will you be a good sort, Cynthia, and +let me----" + +"No!" + +"I ask you merely to let me take a flyer!" + +"No, Jack." + +"Why can't I take a flyer? Why can't I have the pleasure of speculating +on a perfectly sure thing? It's a million to nothing that you'll make +good. For the love of Mike, Cynthia, borrow the needful and----" + +"From _you_?" + +"Naturally." + +"No, Jack!" + +"Why not? Why cut off your nose to spite your face? What difference does +it make where you get it as long as it's a decent deal? You can't afford +to take two or three years off to complete your education----" + +"Begin it, you mean." + +"I mean finish it! You can't afford to; but if you'll borrow the money +you'll make good in exactly one-tenth of the time you'd otherwise take +to arrive----" + +"Jack, I won't discuss it with you. I know you are generous and +kind----" + +"I'm _not_! I'm anything _but_! For heaven's sake let a man indulge his +vanity, Cynthia. Imagine my pride when you are famous! Picture my +bursting vanity as I sit in front and tell everybody near me that the +credit is all mine; that if it were not for me you would be nowhere!" + +"It's so like you," she said sweetly. "You always were an inordinate +boaster, so I am not going to encourage you." + +"Can't you let me make you a business loan at exorbitant interest +without expiring of mortification?" + +They had reached the theatre; a few loafers sunning themselves by the +stage entrance leered at them. + +"Hush, Jack! I can't discuss it with you. But you know how grateful I +am, don't you?" + +"No, I don't----" he said sulkily. + +"You are cross now, but you'll see it as I do half an hour hence." + +"No, I won't!" he insisted. + +She laughed: "_You_ haven't changed, at all events, have you? It takes +me back years to see that rather becoming scowl gather over the bridge +of your ornamental nose. But it is very nice to know that you haven't +entirely forgotten me; that we are still friends." + +"Where are you living, Cynthia?" + +She told him, adding: "Do you really mean to come?" + +"Watch me!" he said, almost savagely, took off his hat, shook her hand +until her fingers ached, and marched off still scowling. + +The stage loafers shifted quids and looked after him with sneers. + +"Trun out!" observed one. + +"All off!" nodded another. + +The third merely spat and slowly closed his disillusioned and +leisure-weary eyes. + + * * * * * + +Cairns' energetic pace soon brought him to the Olympian Club, where he +was accustomed to lunch, it being convenient to his office, which was on +Forty-sixth Street. + +Desboro, who, at Jacqueline's request, had gone back to business, +appeared presently and joined Cairns at a small table. + +"Anything doing at the office?" inquired the latter. "I suppose you were +too nervous and upset to notice the market though." + +"Well, ask yourself how much _you'd_ feel like business after marrying +the most glorious and wonderful----" + +"Ring off! I concede everything. It is going to make some splash in the +papers. Yes? Lord! I wish you could have had a ripping big wedding +though! Wouldn't she have looked the part? Oh, no!" + +"It couldn't be helped," said Desboro in a low, chagrined voice. "I'd +have given the head off my shoulders to have had the sort of a wedding +to which she was entitled. But--I couldn't." + +Cairns nodded, not, however, understanding; and as Desboro offered no +explanation, he remained unenlightened. + +"Rather odd," he remarked, "that she didn't wish to have Aunt Hannah +with her at the fatal moment. They're such desperate chums these days." + +"She did want her. I wouldn't have her." + +"Is that so?" + +"It is. I'll tell you why some day. In fact, I don't mind telling you +now. Aunt Hannah has it in for me. She's a devil sometimes. You know it +and I do. She has it in for me just now. She's wrong; she's made a +mistake; but I couldn't tell her anything. You can't tell that sort of a +woman anything, once she's made up her mind. And the fact is, Jack, +she's already made up her mind that I was not to marry Jacqueline. And I +was afraid of her. And _that's_ why I married Jacqueline this way." + +Cairns stared. + +"So now," added Desboro, "you know how it happened." + +"Quite so. Rotten of her, wasn't it?" + +"She didn't mean it that way. She got a fool idea into her head, that's +all. Only I was afraid she'd tell it to Jacqueline." + +"I see." + +"That's what scared me. I didn't know what she might tell Jacqueline. +She threatened to tell her--things. And it would have involved a +perfectly innocent woman and myself--put me in a corner where I couldn't +decently explain the real facts to Jacqueline. Now, thank God, it's too +late for Aunt Hannah to make mischief." + +Cairns nodded, thinking of Mrs. Clydesdale. And whatever he personally +was inclined to believe, he knew that gossip was not dealing very +leniently with that young wife and the man who sat on the other side of +the table, nervously pulling to pieces his unlighted cigarette. + + * * * * * + +But it needed no rumour, no hearsay evidence, no lifted eyebrows, no +shrugs, no dubious smiles, no half-hearted defence of Elena Clydesdale, +to thoroughly convince Mrs. Hammerton of Desboro's utter unfitness as a +husband for the motherless girl she had begun to love with a devotion so +fierce that at present it could brook no rival at all of either sex. + +For Mrs. Hammerton had never before loved. She had once supposed that +she loved her late husband, but soon came to regard him as a poor sort +of thing. She had been extremely fond of Desboro, too, in her own way, +but in the vivid fire of this new devotion to Jacqueline, any tenderness +she ever might have cherished for that young man was already consumed +and sacrificed to a cinder in the fiercer flame. + +Into her loneliness, into her childless solitude, into the hardness, +cynicism, and barren emptiness of her latter years, a young girl had +stepped from nowhere, and she had suddenly filled her whole life with +the swift enchantment of love. + +A word or two, a smile, the magic of two arms upon her bony shoulders, +the shy touch of youthful lips--these were the very simple ingredients +which apparently had transmuted the brass and tinsel and moral squalor +of Aunt Hannah's life into charming reality. + +From sudden tenderness to grim love, to jealous, watchful, passionate +adoration--these were the steps Mrs. Hammerton had taken in the brief +interval of time that had elapsed since she had first seen Jacqueline. + +Into the clear, truthful eyes she had looked, and had seen within only +an honest mind and a clean young soul. Wisdom, too, only lacking in +experience, she divined there; and less of wisdom than of intelligence; +and less of that than of courage. And it all was so clear, so perfectly +apparent to the cold and experienced scrutiny of the woman of the world, +that, for a while, she could not entirely believe what she understood at +the first glance. + +When she _was_ convinced, she surrendered. And never before in all her +unbelieving, ironical, and material career had she experienced such a +thrill of overwhelming delight as when, that evening at Silverwood, +Jacqueline had drawn her head down and had touched her dry forehead with +warm, young lips. + +Everything about the girl fascinated her--her independence and courage; +her adorable bashfulness in matters where experience had made others +callous--in such little things, for example, as the response to an +invitation, the meeting with fashionable strangers--but it was only the +nice, friendly, and thoroughbred shyness of inexperience, not the +awkwardness of under-breeding or of that meaner vanity called +self-consciousness. + +Poor herself, predatory, clever, hard as nails, her beady eyes ever +alert for the main chance, she felt for the first time in her life the +real bitterness of comparative poverty--which is the inability to give +where one loves. + +She had no illusions; she knew that what she had to offer the girl would +soon pall; that Jacqueline would choose her own friends among the sane +and simple and sincere, irrespective of social and worldly +considerations; that no glitter, no sham, no tinsel could permanently +hold her attention; no lesser ambition seduce her; no folly ever awake +her laughter more than once. What the girl saw she would understand; +and, in future, she would choose for herself what she cared to see and +know of a new world now gradually opening before her. + +But in the meantime Jacqueline must see before she could learn, and +before she could make up her mind what to discard and what to retain. + +So Mrs. Hammerton had planned that Jacqueline should be very busy during +March and April; and her patience was sorely tried when she found that, +for a week or two, the girl could give her only a very few minutes every +other day. + +At first it was a grim consolation to her that Jacqueline still remained +too busy to see anybody, because that meant that Desboro, too, would be +obliged to keep his distance. + +For at first Mrs. Hammerton did not believe that the girl could be +seriously interested in Desboro; in fact, she had an idea that, so far, +all the sentiment was on Desboro's side. And both Jacqueline's reticence +and her calm cordiality in speaking of Desboro were at first mistaken by +Aunt Hannah for the symptoms of a friendship not sentimentally +significant. + +But the old lady's doubts soon became aroused; she began to watch +Jacqueline askance--began to test her, using all her sly cleverness and +skill. Slowly her uncertainty, uneasiness, and suspicion changed to +anger and alarm. + +If she had been more than angry and suspicious--if she had been +positive, she would not have hesitated an instant. For on one matter she +was coldly determined; the girl should not marry Desboro, or any such +man as Desboro. It made no difference to her whether Desboro might be +really in love with her. He was not fit for her; he was a man of weak +character, idle, useless, without purpose or ability, who would never +amount to anything or be anything except what he already was--an +agreeable, graceful, amusing, acceptable item in the sort of society +which he decorated. + +She knew and despised that breed of youth; New York was full of them, +and they were even less endurable to her than the similar species extant +in England and on the Continent; for the New York sort were destitute of +the traditions which had created the real kind--and there was no excuse +for them, not even the sanction of custom. They were merely imitation of +a more genuine degeneracy. And she held them in contempt. + +She told Jacqueline this, as she was saying good-night on Saturday, and +was alarmed and silenced by the girl's deep flush of colour; and she +went home in her scrubby brougham, scared and furious by turns, and +determined to settle Desboro's business for him without further +hesitation. + +Sunday Jacqueline could not see her; and the suspicion that the girl +might be with Desboro almost drove the old lady crazy. Monday, too, +Jacqueline told her over the telephone would be a very busy day; and +Aunt Hannah acquiesced grimly, determined to waste no further time at +the telephone and take no more chances, but go straight to Jacqueline +and take her into her arms and tell her what a mother would tell her +about Desboro, and how, at that very hour perhaps, he was with Mrs. +Clydesdale; and what the world suspected, and what she herself knew of +an intrigue that had been shamelessly carried into the very house which +had sheltered Jacqueline within a day or two. + +So on Monday morning Mrs. Hammerton went to see Jacqueline; and, +learning that the girl had gone out early, marched home again, sat down +at her desk, and wrote her a letter. + +When she had finished she honestly believed that she had also finished +Desboro; and, grimly persuaded that she had done a mother's duty by the +motherless, she summoned a messenger and sent off the letter to a girl, +who, at that very moment, had returned to her desk, a wife. + +The rapid reaction from the thrilling experience of the morning had made +Jacqueline nervous and unfit for business, even before she arrived at +her office. But she entered the office resolutely and seated herself at +her desk, summoning all her reserve of self-control to aid her in +concentrating her mind on the business in hand. + +First she read her morning's mail and dictated her answers to a +red-headed stenographer. Next she received Lionel Sissly, disposed of +his ladylike business with her; sent for Mr. Mirk, went over with him +his report of the shop sales, revised and approved the list of prices to +be ticketed on new acquisitions, re-read the sheaf of dictated letters +laid before her by the red-headed stenographer, signed them, and sent +down for the first client on the appointment-list. + +The first on the list was a Mr. Hyman Dobky; and his three months' note +had gone to protest, and Mr. Dobky wept. + +She was not very severe with him, because he was a Lexington Avenue +dealer just beginning in a small way, and she believed him to be honest +at heart. He retired comforted, swabbing his eyes with his cuff. + +Then came a furtive pair, Orrin Munger, the "Cubist" poet, and his +loud-voiced, swaggering confrère, Adalbert Waudle, author of "Black +Roses" and other phenomena which, some people whispered, resembled +blackmail. + +It had been with greatest reluctance, and only because it was a matter +concerning a client, that she had consented to receive the dubious pair. +She had not forgotten her experience with the "Cubist," and his +suggestion for an informal Italian trip, and had never again desired or +expected to see him. + +He now offered her an abnormally flat and damp hand; and hers went +behind her back and remained there clasped together, as she stood +inspecting Mr. Munger with level eyes that harboured lightning. + +She said quietly: "My client, Mr. Clydesdale, recently requested my +opinion concerning certain jades, crystals and Chinese porcelains +purchased by him from you and from Mr. Waudle. I have, so far, examined +some twenty specimens. Every specimen examined by me is a forgery." + +[Illustration: "Mr. Waudle gaped at her like a fat and expiring fish; +the poet ... said not a word"] + +Mr. Waudle, taken completely by surprise, gaped at her like a fat and +expiring fish; the poet turned a dull and muddy red, and said not a +word. + +"So," added Jacqueline coldly, "at Mr. Clydesdale's request I have asked +you to come here and explain the situation to me." + +Waudle, writer of "Pithy Points" for the infamous _Tattler_, recovered +his wits first. + +"Miss Nevers," he said menacingly, "do you mean to insinuate that I am a +swindler?" + +"_Are_ you, Mr. Waudle?" + +"That's actionable. Do you understand?" + +"Perfectly. Please explain the forgeries." + +The poet, who had sunk down upon a chair, now arose and began to make +elaborate gestures preliminary to a fluency of speech which had never +yet deserted him in any crisis where a lady was involved. + +"My dear child----" he began. + +"_What!_" cut in Jacqueline crisply. + +"My--my dear and--and honored, but very youthful and inexperienced young +lady," he stammered, a trifle out of countenance under the fierce +glimmer in her eyes, "do you, for one moment, suppose that such a writer +as Mr. Waudle would imperil his social and literary reputation for the +sake of a few wretched dollars!" + +"Fifteen thousand," commented Jacqueline quietly. + +"Exactly. Fifteen thousand contemptible dollars--inartistically +designed," he added, betraying a tendency to wander from the main point; +and was generously proceeding to instruct her in the art of coin design +when she brought him back to the point with a shock. + +"_You_, also, are involved in this questionable transaction," she said +coldly. "Can you explain these forgeries?" + +"F-forgeries!" he repeated, forcibly injecting indignation into the +exclamation; but his eyes grew very round, as though frightened, and a +spinal limpness appeared which threatened the stability of his knees. + +But the poet's fluency had not yet deserted him; he opened both arms in +a gesture suggesting absolute confidence in a suspicious and inartistic +world. + +"I am quite guiltless of deception," he said, using a slight tremolo. +"Permit me to protest against your inexperienced judgment in the matter +of these ancient and precious specimens of Chinese art; I protest!" he +exclaimed earnestly. "I protest in the name of that symbol of mystery +and beauty--that occult lunar _something_, my dear young lady, which we +both worship, and which the world calls the moon----" + +"I beg your pardon----" she interrupted; but the poet was launched and +she could not check him. + +"I protest," he continued shrilly, "in the name of Art! In the name of +all that is worth while, all that matters, all that counts, all that is +meaningful, sacred, precious beyond price----" + +"Mr. Munger!" + +"I protest in the name of----" + +"_Mr. Munger!_" + +"Eh!" he said, coming to and rolling his round, washed-out eyes toward +her. + +"Be kind enough to listen," she said curtly. "I am compelled to +interrupt you because to-day I am a very busy person. So I am going to +be as brief with you as possible. This, then, is the situation as I +understand it. A month or so ago you and your friend, Mr. Waudle, +notified Mr. Clydesdale that you had just returned from Pekin with a +very unusual collection of ancient Chinese art, purchased by you, as you +stated, from a certain Chinese prince." + +The faint note of scorn in her voice did not escape the poet, who turned +redder and muddier and made a picturesque gesture of world-wide appeal; +but no words came from either manufacturer of literary phrases; Waudle +only closed his cod-like mouth, and the eyes set in his fat face became +small and cunning like something in the farthest corner of a trap. + +Jacqueline continued gravely: "At your solicitation, I understand, and +depending upon your representations, my client, Mr. Clydesdale, +purchased from you this collection----" + +"We offered no guarantees with it," interrupted Waudle thickly. +"Besides, his wife advised him to buy the collection. I am an old and +valued friend of Mrs. Clydesdale. She would never dream of demanding a +guarantee from _me_! Ask her if----" + +"What _is_ a guarantee?" inquired Jacqueline. "I'm quite certain that +you don't know, Mr. Waudle. And did you and Mr. Munger regard your +statement concerning the Chinese prince as poetic license? Or as +diverting fiction? Or what? You were not writing romance, you know. You +were engaged in business. So I must ask you again who is this prince?" + +"There was a prince," retorted Waudle sullenly. "Can you prove there +wasn't?" + +"There are several princes in China. And now I am obliged to ask you to +state distinctly exactly how many of these porcelains, jades and +crystals which you sold to Mr. Clydesdale were actually purchased by you +from this particular Chinese prince?" + +"Most of them," said Waudle, defiantly. "Prove the contrary if you can!" + +"Not _all_ of them, then--as you assured Mr. Clydesdale?" + +"I didn't say all." + +"I am afraid you did, Mr. Waudle. I am afraid you even _wrote_ it--over +your own signature." + +"Very well," said Waudle, with a large and careless sweep of his hand, +"if any doubt remains in Mr. Clydesdale's mind, I am fully prepared to +take back whatever specimens may not actually have come from the +prince----" + +"There were _some_, then, which did not?" + +"One or two, I believe." + +"And who is this Chinese prince, Mr. Waudle?" she repeated, not smiling. +"What is his name?" + +Munger answered; he knew exactly what answer to make, and how to deliver +it with flowing gestures. He had practised it long enough: + +"When I was travelling with His Excellency T'ang-K'ai-Sun by rail from +Szechuan to Pekin to visit Prince----" + +"The railroad is not built," interrupted the girl drily. "You could not +have travelled that way." + +Both men regarded her as though paralysed by her effrontery. + +"Continue, please," she nodded. + +The poet swallowed nothing very fast and hard, and waved his damp hand +at her: + +"Tuan-Fang, Viceroy of Wuchang----" + +"He happens to be Viceroy of Nanking," observed the girl. + +Waudle, frightened, lost his temper and turned on her, exasperated: + +"Be careful! Your insinuations involve our honour and are actionable! Do +you realise what you are saying?" + +"Perfectly." + +"I fear not. Do you imagine you are competent to speak with authority +about China and its people and its complex and mysterious art when you +have never been in the country?" + +"I have seen a little of China, Mr. Waudle. But I do not pretend to +speak with undue authority about it." + +"You say you've been in China?" His tone of disbelief was loud and +bullying. + +"I was in China with my father when I was a girl of sixteen." + +"Oh! Perhaps you speak Chinese!" he sneered. + +She looked at him gravely, not answering. + +He laughed: "Now, Miss Nevers, you have intimated that we are liars and +swindlers. Let's see how much you know for an expert! You pretend to be +an authority on things Chinese. You will then understand me when I say: +'Jen chih ch'u, Hsing pen shan----'" + +"I do understand you, Mr. Waudle," she cut in contemptuously. "You are +repeating the 'three-word-classic,' which every school-child in China +knows, and it merely means 'Men when born are naturally good.' I think I +may qualify in Chinese as far as San Tzu Ching and his nursery rhymes. +And I think we have had enough of this dodging----" + +The author flushed hotly. + +"Do you speak Wenli?" he demanded, completely flustered. + +"Do _you_?" she retorted impatiently. + +"I do," he asserted boldly. + +"Indeed!" + +"I may even say that I speak very fluently the--the literary language +of China--or Wenli, as it is commonly called." + +"That is odd," she said, "because the literary language of China, +commonly called Wenli, is not and never has been spoken. It is only a +written language, Mr. Waudle." + +The Cubist had now gone quite to pieces. From his colourless mop of +bushy hair to the fringe on his ankle-high trousers, he presented a +study in deep dejection. Only his round, pale, parrot-like eyes remained +on duty, staring unwinkingly at her. + +"Were _you_ ever actually in China?" she asked, looking around at him. + +The terrified poet feebly pointed to the author of "Black Roses." + +"Oh!" she said. "Were _you_ in China, Mr. Waudle, or only in Japan?" + +But Mr. Waudle found nothing further to say. + +"Because," she said, "in Japan sometimes one is deceived into buying +alleged Chinese jades and crystals and porcelains. I am afraid that you +were deceived. I hope you were honestly deceived. What you have sold to +Mr. Clydesdale as jade is not jade. And the porcelains are not what you +represented them to be." + +"That's where _you_ make a mistake!" shouted Waudle loudly. "I've had +the inscription on every vase translated, and I can prove it! How much +of an expert are you? Hey?" + +"If _you_ were an expert," she explained wearily, "you would understand +that inscriptions on Chinese porcelains are not trustworthy. Even +hundreds of years ago forgeries were perpetrated by the Chinese who +desired to have their works of art mistaken for still more ancient +masterpieces; and so the ancient and modern makers of porcelains +inscribed them accordingly. Only when an antique porcelain itself +conforms to the inscription it bears do we venture to accept that +inscription. Never otherwise." + +Waudle, hypnotised, stood blinking at her, bereft of speech, almost of +reason. + +The poet piped feebly: "It was not our fault! We were brutally deceived +in Japan. And, oh! The bitter deception to me! The cruelty of the +awakening!" He got up out of his chair; words and gestures were once +again at his command; tears streaked his pasty cheeks. + +"Miss Nevers! My dear and honoured young lady! You know--_you_ among all +women must realise how precious to me is the moon! Sacred, worshipped, +adored--desired far more than the desire for gold--yea, than much fine +gold! Sweeter, also, than honey in the honeycomb!" he sobbed. "And it +was a pair of moon vases, black as midnight, pearl-orbed, lacquered, +mystic, wonderful, that lured me----" + +"A damned Japanese in Tokio worked them off on us!" broke out the author +of "Black Roses," hoarsely. "That was the beginning. What are you going +to do about it? You've got us all right, Miss Nevers. The Jap did us. We +did the next man. If you want to send us up, I suppose you can! I don't +care. I can't keep soul and body together by selling what I write. I +tell you I've starved half my life--and when I hear about the stuff that +sells--all these damned best sellers--all this cheap fiction that people +buy--while they neglect me--it breaks my heart----" + +He turned sharply and passed his hand over his face. It was not an +attitude; for a fraction of a second it was the real thing. Yet, even +while the astonished poet was peeping sideways at his guilty companion, +a verse suggested itself to him; and, quite unconsciously, he began to +fumble in his pockets for a pencil, while the tears still glistened on +his cheeks. + +"Mr. Waudle," said Jacqueline, "I am really sorry for you. Because this +is a very serious affair." + +There was a silence; then she reseated herself at her desk. + +"My client, Mr. Clydesdale, is not vindictive. He has no desire to +humiliate you publicly. But he is justly indignant. And I know he will +insist that you return to him what money he paid you for your +collection." + +Waudle started dramatically, forgetting his genuine emotion of the +moment before. + +"Does this rich man mean to ruin me!" he demanded, making his resonant +voice tremble. + +"On the contrary," she explained gently, "all he wants is the money he +paid you." + +As that was the only sort of ruin which Mr. Waudle had been fearing, he +pressed his clenched fists into his eyes. He had never before possessed +so much money. The mere idea of relinquishing it infuriated him; and he +turned savagely on Jacqueline, hesitated, saw it was useless. For there +remained nothing further to say to such a she-devil of an expert. He had +always detested women anyway; whenever he had any money they had gotten +it in one way or another. The seven thousand, his share, would have gone +the same way. Now it was going back into a fat, rich man's capacious +pockets--unless Mrs. Clydesdale might be persuaded to intervene. She +could say that _she_ wanted the collection. Why not? She had aided him +before in emergencies--unwillingly, it is true--but what of that? No +doubt she'd do it again--if he scared her sufficiently. + +Jacqueline waited a moment longer; then rose from her desk in signal +that the interview was at an end. + +Waudle slouched out first, his oblong, evil head hanging in a +picturesque attitude of noble sorrow. The Cubist shambled after him, +wrapped in abstraction, his round, pale, bird-like eyes partly sheathed +under bluish eyelids that seemed ancient and wrinkled. + +He was already quite oblivious to his own moral degradation; his mind +was completely obsessed by the dramatic spectacle which the despair of +his friend had afforded him, and by the idea for a poem with which the +episode had inspired him. + +He was still absently fishing for a pencil and bit of paper when his +companion jogged his elbow: + +"If we fight this business, and if that damn girl sets Clydesdale after +us, we'll have to get out. But I don't think it will come to that." + +"Can you stop her, Adalbert--and retain the money?" + +"By God! I'm beginning to think I can. I believe I'll drop in to see +Mrs. Clydesdale about it now. She is a very faithful friend of mine," he +added gently. "And sometimes a woman will rush in to help a fellow where +angels fear to tread." + +The poet looked at him, then looked away, frightened. + +"Be careful," he said, nervously. + +"Don't worry. I know women. And I have an idea." + +The poet of the Cubists shrugged; then, with a vague gesture: + +"My mistress, the moon," he said, dreamily, "is more to me than any idea +on earth or in Heaven." + +"Very fine," sneered Waudle, "but why don't you make her keep you in pin +money?" + +"Adalbert," retorted the poet, "if you wish to prostitute your art, do +so. Anybody can make a mistress of his art and then live off her. But +the inviolable moon----" + +"Oh, hell!" snapped the author of "Black Roses." + +And they wandered on into the busy avenue, side by side, Waudle savagely +biting his heavy under-lip, both fists rammed deep into his overcoat +pockets; the Cubist wandering along beside him, a little derby hat +crowning the bunch of frizzled hair on his head, his soiled drab +trousers, ankle high, flapping in the wind. + +Jacqueline glanced at them as they passed the window at the end of the +corridor, and turned hastily away, remembering the old, unhappy days +after her father's death, and how once from a window she had seen the +poet as she saw him now, frizzled, soiled, drab, disappearing into murky +perspective. + +She turned wearily to her desk again. A sense of depression had been +impending--but she knew it was only the reaction from excitement and +fought it nervously. + +They brought luncheon to her desk, but she sent away the tray untouched. +People came by appointment and departed, only to give place to others, +all equally persistent and wholly absorbed in their own affairs; and she +listened patiently, forcing her tired mind to sympathise and +comprehend. And, in time, everybody went away satisfied or otherwise, +but in no doubt concerning the answer she had given, favourable or +unfavourable to their desires. For that was her way in the business of +life. + +At last, once more looking over her appointment list, she found that +only Clydesdale remained; and almost at the same moment, and greatly to +her surprise, Mrs. Clydesdale was announced. + +"Is Mr. Clydesdale with her?" she asked the clerk, who had also handed +her a letter with the visiting card of Mrs. Clydesdale. + +"The lady is alone," he said. + +Jacqueline glanced at the card again. Then, thoughtfully: + +"Please say to Mrs. Clydesdale that I will receive her," she said; laid +the card on the desk and picked up the letter. + +It was a very thick letter and had arrived by messenger. + +The address on the envelope was in Mrs. Hammerton's familiar and +vigorous back-stroke writing, and she had marked it "_Private! Personal! +Important!_" As almost every letter from her to Jacqueline bore similar +emphatic warnings, the girl smiled to herself and leisurely split the +envelope with a paper knife. + +She was still intent on the letter, and was still seated at her desk +when Mrs. Clydesdale entered. And Jacqueline slowly looked up, dazed and +deathly white, as the woman about whom she had at that moment been +reading came forward to greet her. Then, with a supreme effort, she rose +from her chair, managing to find the ghost of a voice to welcome Elena, +who seemed unusually vivacious, and voluble to the verge of excitement. + +[Illustration: "'My dear!' she exclaimed. 'What a perfectly charming +office!'"] + +"My dear!" she exclaimed. "What a perfectly charming office! It's really +too sweet for words, Miss Nevers! It's enough to drive us all into +trade! Are you very much surprised to see me here?" + +"A--little." + +"It's odd--the coincidence that brought me," said Elena gaily, "--and +just a trifle embarrassing to me. And as it is rather a confidential +matter----" She drew her chair closer to the desk. "_May_ I speak to you +in fullest candour and--and implicit confidence, Miss Nevers?" + +"Yes." + +"Then--there is a friend of mine in very serious trouble--a man I knew +slightly before I was married. Since then I--have come to know +him--better. And I am here now to ask you to help him." + +"Yes." + +"Shall I tell you his name at once?" + +"If you wish." + +"Then--his name is Adalbert Waudle." + +Jacqueline looked up at her in weary surprise. + +Elena laughed feverishly: "Adalbert is only a boy--a bad one, perhaps, +but--you know that genius is queer--always unbalanced. He came to see me +at noon to-day. It's a horrid mess, isn't it--what he did to my husband? +I know all about it; and I know that Cary is wild, and that it was an +outrageous thing for Adalbert to do. But----" + +Her voice trembled a little and she forced a laugh to conceal it: +"Adalbert is an old friend, Miss Nevers. I knew him as a boy. But even +so, Cary couldn't understand if I pleaded for him. My husband means to +send him to jail if he does not return the money. And--and I am sorry +for Mrs. Waudle. Besides, I like the porcelains. And I want you to +persuade Cary to keep them." + +Through the whirling chaos of her thoughts, Jacqueline still strove to +understand what this excited woman was saying; made a desperate effort +to fix her attention on the words and not on the flushed and restless +young wife who was uttering them. + +"Will you persuade Cary to keep the collection, Miss Nevers?" + +"That is for you to do, Mrs. Clydesdale." + +"I tried. I called him up at his office and asked him to keep the jades +and porcelains because I liked them. But he was very obstinate. What you +have told him about--about being swindled has made him furious. That is +why I came here. Something must be done." + +"I don't think I understand you." + +"There is nothing to understand. I want to keep the collection. I ask +you to convince my husband----" + +"How?" + +"I d--don't know," stammered Elena, crimson again. "You ought to know +how to--to do it." + +"If Mr. Waudle returns your husband's money, no further action will be +taken." + +"He can not," said Elena, in a low voice. + +"Why?" + +"He has spent it." + +"Did he tell you that?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I am afraid that Mr. Clydesdale will have him arrested." + +There was an ominous silence. Jacqueline forced her eyes away from the +terrible fascination of Elena's ghastly face, and said: + +"I am sorry. But I can do nothing for you, Mrs. Clydesdale. The decision +rests with your husband." + +"You _must_ help me!" + +"I cannot." + +"You _must_!" repeated Elena. + +"How?" + +"I--I don't care how you do it! But you must prevent my husband from +prosecuting Mr. Waudle! It--it has got to be done--somehow." + +"What do you mean?" + +Elena's face was burning and her lips quivered: + +"It has got to be done! I can't tell you why." + +"Can you not tell your husband?" + +"No." + +Jacqueline was quivering, too, clinging desperately to her self-control +under the menace of an impending horror which had already partly stunned +her. + +"Are you--_afraid_ of this man?" she asked, with stiffening lips. + +Elena bowed her head in desperation. + +"What is it? Blackmail?" + +"Yes. He once learned something. I have paid him--not to--to write it +for the--the _Tattler_. And to-day he came to me straight from your +office and made me understand that I would have to stop my husband +from--taking any action--even to recover the money----" + +Jacqueline sat nervously clenching and unclenching her hands over the +letter which lay under them on the blotter. + +"What scandal is it you fear, Mrs. Clydesdale?" she asked, in an icy +voice. + +Elena coloured furiously: "Is it necessary for me to incriminate myself +before you help me? I thought you more generous!" + +"I can not help you. There is no way to do so." + +"Yes, there is!" + +"How?" + +"By--by telling my husband that the--the jades are _not_ forgeries!" + +Jacqueline's ashy cheeks blazed into colour. + +"Mrs. Clydesdale," she said, "I would not do it to save myself--not even +to save the dearest friend I have! And do you think I will lie to spare +_you_?" + +In the excitement and terror of what now was instantly impending, the +girl had risen, clutching Mrs. Hammerton's letter in her hand. + +"You need not tell me why you--you are afraid," she stammered, her +lovely lips already distorted with fear and horror, "because I--I +_know_! Do you understand? I know what you are--what you have done--what +you are doing!" + +She fumbled in the pages of Mrs. Hammerton's letter, found an enclosure, +and held it out to Elena with shaking fingers. + +It was Elena's note to her husband, written on the night she left him, +brought by her husband to Silverwood, left on the library table, used as +a bookmark by Desboro, discovered and kept by its finder, Mrs. +Hammerton, for future emergencies. + +Elena re-read it now with sickened senses, and knew that in the eyes of +this young girl she was utterly and irretrievably damned. + +"Did you write that?" whispered Jacqueline, with lips scarcely under +control. + +"I--you do not understand----" + +"Did you know that when I was a guest under Mr. Desboro's roof +everything that he and you said in the library was overheard? Do you +know that you have been watched--not by me--but even long before I knew +you--watched even at the opera----" + +Elena drew a quick, terrified breath; then the surging shame mantled her +from brow to throat. + +"That was Mrs. Hammerton!" she murmured. "I warned Jim--but he trusted +her." + +Jacqueline turned cold all over. + +"He is your--lover," she said mechanically. + +Elena looked at her, hesitated, came a step nearer, still staring. Her +visage and her bearing altered subtly. For a moment they gazed at each +other. Then Elena said, in a soft, but deadly, voice: + +"Suppose he is my lover! Does that concern _you_?" And, as the girl made +no stir or sound: "However, if you think it does, you will scarcely care +to know either of us any longer. I am quite satisfied. Do what you +please about the man who has blackmailed me. I don't care now. I was +frightened for a moment--but I don't care any longer. Because the end of +all this nightmare is in sight; and I think Mr. Desboro and I are +beginning to awake at last." + + * * * * * + +Until a few minutes before five Jacqueline remained seated at her desk, +motionless, her head buried in her arms. Then she got to her feet +somehow, and to her room, where, scarcely conscious of what she was +doing, she bathed her face and arranged her hair, and strove to pinch +and rub a little colour into her ghastly cheeks. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Desboro came for her in his car at five and found her standing alone in +her office, dressed in a blue travelling dress, hatted and closely +veiled. He partly lifted the veil, kissed the cold, unresponsive lips, +the pallid cheek, the white-gloved fingers. + +"Is Her Royal Shyness ready?" he whispered. + +"Yes, Jim." + +"All her affairs of state accomplished?" he asked laughingly. + +"Yes--the day's work is done." + +"Was it a hard day for you, sweetheart?" + +"Yes--hard." + +"I am so sorry," he murmured. + +She rearranged her veil in silence. + + * * * * * + +Again, as the big car rolled away northward, and they were alone once +more in the comfortable limousine, he took possession of her unresisting +hand, whispering: + +"I am so sorry you have had a hard day, dear. You really look very pale +and tired." + +"It was a--tiresome day." + +He lifted her hand to his lips: "Do you love me, Jacqueline?" + +"Yes." + +"Above everything?" + +"Yes." + +"And you know that I love you above everything in the world?" + +She was silent. + +"Jacqueline!" he urged. "Don't you _know_ it?" + +"I--think you--care for me." + +He laughed: "Will Your Royal Shyness never unbend! Is _that_ all the +credit you give me for my worship and adoration?" + +She said, after a silence: "If it lies with me, you really will love me +some day." + +"Dearest!" he protested, laughing but perplexed. "Don't you know that I +love you _now_--that I am absolutely mad about you?" + +She did not answer, and he waited, striving to see her expression +through the veil. But when he offered to lift it, she gently avoided +him. + +"Did you go to business?" she asked quietly. + +"I? Oh, yes, I went back to the office. But Lord! Jacqueline, I couldn't +keep my attention on the tape or on the silly orders people fired at me +over the wire. So I left young Seely in charge and went to lunch with +Jack Cairns; and then he and I returned to the office, where I've been +fidgeting about ever since. I think it's been the longest day I ever +lived." + +"It has been a long day," she assented gravely. "Did Mr. Cairns speak to +you of Cynthia?" + +"He mentioned her, I believe." + +"Do you remember what he said about her?" + +"Well, yes. I think he spoke about her very nicely--about her being +interesting and ambitious and talented--something of that sort--but how +could I keep my mind on what he was saying about another girl?" + +Jacqueline looked out of the window across a waste of swamp and trestle +and squalid buildings toward University Heights. She said presently, +without turning: + +"Some day, may I ask Cynthia to visit me?" + +"Dearest girl! Of course! Isn't it your house----" + +"Silverwood?" + +"Certainly----" + +"No, Jim." + +"What on earth do you mean?" + +"What I say. Silverwood is not yet even partly mine. It must remain +entirely yours--until I know you--better." + +"Why on earth do you say such silly----" + +"What is yours must remain yours," she repeated, in a low voice, "just +as my shop, and office, and my apartment must remain mine--for a time." + +"For how long?" + +"I can not tell." + +"Do you mean for always?" + +"I don't know." + +"And I don't understand you, dear," he said impatiently. + +"You will, Jim." + +He smiled uneasily: "For how long must we twain, who are now one, +maintain solitary sovereignty over our separate domains?" + +"Until I know you better." + +"And how long is that going to take?" he asked, smilingly apprehensive +and deeply perplexed by her quiet and serious attitude toward him. + +"I don't know how long, I wish I did." + +"Jacqueline, dear, has anything unpleasant happened to disturb you since +I last saw you?" + +She made no reply. + +"Won't you tell me, dear," he insisted uneasily. + +"I will tell you this, Jim. Whatever may have occurred to disturb me is +already a matter of the past. Life and its business lie before us; that +is all I know. This is our beginning, Jim; and happiness depends on what +we make of our lives from now on--from now on." + +The stray lock of golden hair had fallen across her cheek, accenting the +skin's pallor through the veil. She rested her elbow on the window +ledge, her tired head on her hand, and gazed at the sunset behind the +Palisades. Far below, over the grey and wrinkled river, smoke from a +steamboat drifted, a streak of bronze and purple, in the sunset light. + +"_What_ has happened?" he muttered under his breath. And, turning toward +her: "You must tell me, Jacqueline. It is now my right to know." + +"Don't ask me." + +His face hardened; for a moment the lean muscles of the jaw worked +visibly. + +"Has anybody said anything about me to you?" + +No reply. + +"Has--has Mrs. Hammerton been to see you?" + +"No." + +He was silent for a moment, then: + +"I'll tell you now, Jacqueline; she did not wish me to marry you. Did +you know it?" + +"I know it." + +"I believe," he said, "that she has been capable of warning you against +me. Did she?" + +No reply. + +"And yet you married me?" he said, after a silence. + +She said nothing. + +"So you could not have believed her, whatever she may have said," he +concluded calmly. + +"Jim?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"I married you because I loved you. I love you still. Remember it when +you are impatient with me--when you are hurt--perhaps angry----" + +"Angry with _you_, my darling!" + +"You are going to be--very often--I am afraid." + +"Angry?" + +"I--don't know. I don't know how it will be with us. If only you will +remember that I love you--no matter how I seem----" + +"Dear, if you tell me that you do love me, I will know that it must be +so!" + +"I tell you that I do. I could never love anybody else. You are all that +I have in the world; all I care for. You are absolutely everything to +me. I loved you and married you; I took you for mine just as you were +and are. And if I didn't quite understand all that--that you are--I took +you, nevertheless--for better or for worse--and I mean to hold you. And +I know now that, knowing more about you, I would do the same thing if it +were to be done again. I would marry you to-morrow--knowing what I +know." + +"What more do you know about me than you did this morning, Jacqueline?" +he asked, terribly troubled. + +But she refused to answer. + +He said, reddening: "If you have heard any gossip concerning Mrs. +Clydesdale, it is false. Was _that_ what you heard? Because it is an +absolute lie." + +But she had learned from Mrs. Clydesdale's reckless lips the contrary, +and she rested her aching head on her hand and stared out at the endless +lines of houses along Broadway, as the car swung into Yonkers, veered to +the west past the ancient manor house, then rolled northward again +toward Hastings. + +"Don't you believe me?" he asked at length. "That gossip is a lie--if +that is what you heard." + +She thought: "This is how gentlemen are supposed to behave under such +circumstances." And she shivered. + +"Are you cold?" he asked, with an effort. + +"A little." + +He drew the fur robe closer around her, and leaned back in his corner, +deeply worried, impatient, but helpless in the face of her evident +weariness and reticence, which he could not seem to penetrate or +comprehend. Only that something ominous had happened--that something was +dreadfully wrong--he now thoroughly understood. + +In the purposeless career of a man of his sort, there is much that it is +well to forget. And in Desboro's brief career there were many things +that he would not care to have such a girl as Jacqueline hear about--so +much, alas! of folly and stupidity, so much of idleness, so much +unworthy, that now in his increasing chagrin and mortification, in the +painful reaction from happy pride to alarm and self-contempt, he could +not even guess what had occurred, or for which particular folly he was +beginning to pay. + +Long since, both in his rooms in town, and at Silverwood, he had +destroyed the silly souvenirs of idleness and folly. He thought now of +the burning sacrifice he had so carelessly made that day in the +library--and how the flames had shrivelled up letter and fan, +photograph and slipper. And he could not remember that he had left a +rag of lace or a perfumed envelope unburned. + +Had the ghosts of their owners risen to confront him on his own +hearthstone, standing already between him and this young girl he had +married? + +What whisper had reached her guiltless ears? What rumour, what breath of +innuendo? Must a man still be harassed who has done with folly for all +time--who aspires to better things--who strives to change his whole mode +of life merely for the sake of the woman he loves--merely to be more +worthy of her? + +As he sat there so silently in the car beside her, his dark thoughts +travelled back again along the weary, endless road to yesterday. Since +he had known and loved her, his thoughts had often and unwillingly +sought that shadowy road where the only company were ghosts--phantoms of +dead years that sometimes smiled, sometimes reproached, sometimes +menaced him with suddenly remembered eyes and voiceless but familiar +words forever printed on his memory. + +Out of that grey vista, out of that immaterial waste where only +impalpable shapes peopled the void, vanished, grew out of nothing only +to reappear, _something_ had come to trouble the peace of mind of the +woman he loved--some spectre of folly had arisen and had whispered in +her ear, so that, at the mockery, the light had died out in her fearless +eyes and her pure mind was clouded and her tender heart was weighted +with this thing--whatever it might be--this echo of folly which had +returned to mock them both. + +"Dearest," he said, drawing her to him so that her cold cheek rested +against his, "whatever I was, I am no longer. You said you could +forgive." + +"I do--forgive." + +"Can you not forget, too?" + +"I will try--with your help." + +"How can I help you? Tell me." + +"By letting me love you--as wisely as I can--in my own fashion. By +letting me learn more of you--more about men. I don't understand men. I +thought I did--but I don't. By letting me find out what is the wisest +and the best and the most unselfish way to love you. For I don't know +yet. I don't know. All I know is that I am married to the man I +loved--the man I still love. But how I am going to love him I--I don't +yet know." + +He was silent; the hot flush on his face did not seem to warm her cheek +where it rested so coldly against his. + +"I want to hold you because it is best for us both," she said, as though +speaking to herself. + +"But--you need make no effort to hold me, Jacqueline!" e protested, +amazed. + +"I want to hold you, Jim," she repeated. "You are my husband. I--I must +hold you. And I don't know how I am to do it. I don't know how." + +"My darling! Who has been talking to you? What have they said?" + +"It has _got_ to be done, somehow," she interrupted, wearily. "I must +learn how to hold you; and you must give me time, Jim----" + +"Give you time!" he repeated, exasperated. + +"Yes--to learn how to love you best--so I can serve you best. That is +why I married you--not selfishly, Jim--and I thought I knew--I thought I +knew----" + +Her cheek slipped from his and rested on his shoulder. He put his arm +around her and she covered her face with her gloved hands. + +"I love you dearly, dearly," he whispered brokenly. "If the whisper of +any past stupidity of mine has hurt you, God knows best what punishment +He visits on me at this moment! If there were any torture I could endure +to spare you, Jacqueline, I would beg for it--welcome it! It is a bitter +and a hopeless and a ridiculous thing to say; but if I had only known +there was such a woman as you in the world I would have understood +better how to live. I suppose many a man understands it when it is too +late. I realise now, for the first time, how changeless, how irrevocably +fixed, are the truths youth learns to smile at--the immutable laws youth +scoffs at----" + +He choked, controlled his voice, and went on: + +"If youth could only understand it, the truths of childhood are the only +truths. The first laws we learn are the eternal ones. And their only +meaning is self-discipline. But youth is restive and mistakes curiosity +for intelligence, insubordination for the courage of independence. The +stupidity of orthodoxy incites revolt. To disregard becomes less +difficult; to forget becomes a habit. To think for one's self seems +admirable; but when youth attempts that, it thinks only what it pleases +or does not think at all. I am not trying to find excuses or to evade my +responsibility, dear. I had every chance, no excuse for what I +have--sometimes--been. And now--on this day--this most blessed and most +solemn day of my life--I can only say to you I am sorry, and that I mean +so to live--always--that no man or woman can reproach me." + +She lay very silent against his shoulder. Blindly striving to understand +him, and men--blindly searching for some clue to the path of duty--the +path she must find somehow and follow for his sake--through the +obscurity and mental confusion she seemed to hear at moments Elena +Clydesdale's shameless and merciless words, and the deadly repetition +seemed to stun her. + +Vainly she strove against the recurring horror; once or twice, +unconsciously, her hands crept upward and closed her ears, as though she +could shut out what was dinning in her brain. + +With every reserve atom of mental strength and self-control she battled +against this thing which was stupefying her, fought it off, held it, +drove it back--not very far, but far enough to give her breathing room. +But no sooner did she attempt to fix her mind on the man beside her, and +begin once more to grope for the clue to duty--how most unselfishly she +might serve him for his salvation and her own--than the horror she had +driven back stirred stealthily and crawled nearer. And the battle was on +once more. + +Twilight had fallen over the Westchester hills; a familiar country lay +along the road they travelled. In the early darkness, glancing from the +windows he divined unseen landmarks, counted the miles unconsciously as +the car sped across invisible bridges that clattered or resounded under +the heavy wheels. + +The stars came out; against them woodlands and hills took shadowy shape, +marking for him remembered haunts. And at last, far across the hills the +lighted windows of Silverwood glimmered all a-row; the wet gravel +crunched under the slowing wheels, tall Norway spruces towered +phantomlike on every side; the car stopped. + +"Home," he whispered to her; and she rested her arm on his shoulder and +drew herself erect. + +Every servant and employee on the Desboro estate was there to receive +them; she offered her slim hand and spoke to every one. Then, on her +husband's arm, and her proud little head held high, she entered the +House of Desboro for the first time bearing the family name--entered +smiling, with death in her heart. + + * * * * * + +At last the dinner was at an end. Farris served the coffee and set the +silver lamp and cigarettes on the library table, and retired. + +Luminous red shadows from the fireplace played over wall and +ceiling--the same fireplace where Desboro had made his offering--as +though flame could purify and ashes end the things that men have done! + +In her frail dinner gown of lace, she lay in a great chair before the +blaze, gazing at nothing. He, seated on the rug beside her chair, held +her limp hand and rested his face against it, staring at the ashes on +the hearth. + +And this was marriage! Thus he was beginning his wedded life--here in +the house of his fathers, here at the same hearthstone where the dead +brides of dead forebears had sat as his bride was sitting now. + +But had any bride ever before faced that hearth so silent, so +motionless, so pale as was this young girl whose fingers rested so +limply in his and whose cold palm grew no warmer against his cheek? + +What had he done to her? What had he done to himself--that the joy of +things had died out in her eyes--that speech had died on her lips--that +nothing in her seemed alive, nothing responded, nothing stirred. + +Now, all the bitterness that life and its unwisdom had stored up for him +through the swift and reckless years, he tasted. For that cup may not +pass. Somewhere, sooner or later, the same lips that have so lightly +emptied sweeter draughts must drain this one. None may refuse it, none +wave it away until the cup be empty. + +"Jacqueline?" + +She moved slightly in her chair. + +"Tell me," he said, "what is it that can make amends?" + +"They--are made." + +"But the hurt is still there. What can heal it, dear?" + +"I--don't know." + +"Time?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Love?" + +"Yes--in time." + +"How long?" + +"I do not know, Jim." + +"Then--what is there for me to do?" + +She was silent. + +"Could you tell me, Jacqueline?" + +"Yes. Have patience--with me." + +"With _you_?" + +"It will be necessary." + +"How do you mean, dear?" + +"I mean you must have patience with me--in many ways. And still be in +love with me. And still be loyal to me--and--faithful. I don't know +whether a man can do these things. I don't know men. But I know +myself--and what I require of men--and of you." + +"What you require of me I can be if you love me." + +"Then never doubt it. And when I know that you have become what I +require you to be, you could not doubt my loving you even if you wished +to. _Then_ you will know; _until_ then--you must _believe_." + +He sat thinking before the hearth, the slow flush rising to his temples +and remaining. + +"What is it you mean to do, Jacqueline?" he asked, in a low voice. + +"Nothing, except what I have always done. The business of life remains +unchanged; it is always there to be done." + +"I mean--are you going to--change--toward me?" + +"I have not changed." + +"Your confidence in me has gone." + +"I have recovered it." + +"You believe in me still?" + +"Oh, yes--yes!" Her little hand inside his clenched convulsively and her +voice broke. + +Kneeling beside her, he drew her into his arms and felt her breath +suddenly hot and feverish against his shoulder. But if there had been +tears in her eyes they dried unshed, for he saw no traces of them when +he kissed her. + +"In God's name," he whispered, "let the past bury its accursed dead and +give me a chance. I love you, worship you, adore you. Give me my chance +in life again, Jacqueline!" + +"I--I give it to you--as far as in me lies. But it rests with you, Jim, +what you will be." + +His own philosophy returned to mock him out of the stainless mouth of +this young girl! But he said passionately: + +"How can I be arbiter of my own fate unless I have all you can give me +of love and faith and unswerving loyalty?" + +"I give you these." + +"Then--as a sign--return the kiss I give you--now." + +There was no response. + +"Can you not, Jacqueline?" + +"Not--yet." + +"You--you can not respond!" + +"Not--that way--yet." + +"Is--have I--has what you know of me killed all feeling, all tenderness +in you?" + +"No." + +"Then--why can you not respond----" + +"I can not, Jim--I can not." + +He flushed hotly: "Do you--do I inspire you with--do I repel +you--physically?" + +She caught his hand, cheeks afire, dismayed, striving to check him: + +"Please--don't say such--it is--not--true----" + +"It seems to be----" + +"No! I--I ask you--not to say it--think it----" + +"How can I help thinking it--thinking that you only care for me--that +the only attraction on your part is--is intellectual----" + +She disengaged her hand from his and shrank away into the velvet depths +of her chair. + +"I can't help it," he said. "I've got to say what I think. Never since I +have told you I loved you have you ever hinted at any response, even to +the lightest caress. We are married. Whatever--however foolish I may +have been--God knows you have made me pay for it this day. How long am I +to continue paying? I tell you a man can't remain repentant too long +under the stern and chilling eyes of retribution. If you are going to +treat me as though I were physically unfit to touch, I can make no +further protest. But, Jacqueline, no man was ever aided by a punishment +that wounds his self-respect." + +"I must consider mine, too," she said, in a ghost of a voice. + +"Very well," he said, "if you think you must maintain it at the expense +of mine----" + +"Jim!" + +The low cry left her lips trembling. + +"What?" he said, angrily. + +"Have--have you already forgotten what I said?" + +"What did you say?" + +"I asked--I asked you to be patient with me--because--I love you----" + +But the words halted; she bowed her head in her hands, quivering, +scarcely conscious that he was on his knees again at her feet, scarcely +hearing his broken words of repentance and shame for the sorry and +contemptible rôle he had been playing. + +No tears came to help her even then, only a dry, still agony possessed +her. But the crisis passed and wore away; sight and hearing and the +sense of touch returned to her. She saw his head bowed in contrition on +her knees, heard his voice, bitter in self-accusation, felt his hands +crisping over hers, crushing them till her new rings cut her. + +For a while she looked down at him as though dazed; then the real pain +from her wedding ring aroused her and she gently withdrew that hand +and rested it on his thick, short, curly hair. + +For a long while they remained so. He had ceased to speak; her brooding +gaze rested on him, unchanged save for the subtle tenderness of the +lips, which still quivered at moments. + +Clocks somewhere in the house were striking midnight. A little later a +log fell from the dying fire, breaking in ashes. + +He felt her stir, change her position slightly; and he lifted his head. +After a moment she laid her hand on his arm, and he aided her to rise. + +As they moved slowly, side by side, through the house, they saw that it +was filled with flowers everywhere, twisted ropes of them on the +banisters, too, where they ascended. + +Her own maid, who had arrived by train, rose from a seat in the upper +corridor to meet her. The two rooms, which were connected by a sitting +room, disclosed themselves, almost smothered in flowers. + +Jacqueline stood in the sitting room for a moment, gazing vaguely around +her at the flowers and steadying herself by one hand on the +centre-table, which a great bowlful of white carnations almost covered. + +Then, as her maid reappeared at the door of her room, she turned and +looked at Desboro. + +There was a silence; his face was very white, hers was deathly. + +He said: "Shall we say good-night?" + +"It is--for you--to say." + +"Then--good-night, Jacqueline." + +"Good-night." + +[Illustration: "She turned ... looked back, hesitated"] + +She turned, took a step or two--looked back, hesitated, then slowly +retraced her steps to where he was standing by the flower-covered table. + +From the mass of blossoms she drew a white carnation, touched it to her +lips, and, eyes still lowered, offered it to him. In her palm, beside +it, lay a key. But he took only the blossom, touching it to his lips as +she had done. + +She looked at the key, lying in her trembling hand, then lifted her +confused eyes to his once more, whispering: + +"Good-night--and thank you." + +"Good-night," he said, "until to-morrow." + +And they went their separate ways. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Une nuit blanche--and the young seem less able to withstand its +corroding alchemy than the old. It had left its terrible and pallid mark +on Desboro; and on Jacqueline it had set its phantom sign. That +youthfully flushed and bright-eyed loveliness which always characterised +the girl had whitened to ashes over night. + +And now, as she entered the sunny breakfast room in her delicate Chinese +morning robes, the change in her was startlingly apparent; for the +dead-gold lustre of her hair accented the pallor of a new and strange +and transparent beauty; the eyes, tinted by the deeper shadows under +them, looked larger and more violet; and she seemed smaller and more +slender; and there was a snowy quality to the skin that made the vivid +lips appear painted. + +Desboro came forward from the recess of the window; and whether in his +haggard and altered features she read of his long night's vigil, or +whether in his eyes she learned again how she herself had changed, was +not plain to either of them; but her eyes suddenly filled and she turned +sharply and stood with the back of one slender hand across her eyes. + +Neither had spoken; neither spoke for a full minute. Then she walked to +the window and looked out. The mating sparrows were very noisy. + +Not a tear fell; she touched her eyes with a bit of lace, drew a long, +deep, steady breath and turned toward him. + +"It is all over--forgive me, Jim. I did not mean to greet you this way. +I won't do it again----" + +She offered her hand with a faint smile, and he lifted it and touched it +to his lips. + +"It's all over, all ended," she repeated. "Such a curious phenomenon +happened to me at sunrise this morning." + +"What?" + +"I was born," she said, laughing. "Isn't it odd to be born at my age? So +as soon as I realised what had happened, I went and looked out of the +window; and there was the world, Jim--a big, round, wonderful planet, +all over hills and trees and valleys and brooks! I don't know how I +recognised it, having just been born into it, but somehow I did. And I +knew the sun, too, the minute I saw it shining on my window and felt it +on my face and throat. Isn't that a wonderful way to begin life?" + +There was not a tremor in her voice, nothing tremulous in the sweet +humour of the lips; and, to his surprise, in her eyes little demons of +gaiety seemed to be dancing all at once till they sparkled almost +mockingly. + +"Dear," he said, under his breath, "I wondered whether you would ever +speak to me again." + +"_Speak_ to you! You silly boy, I expect to do little else for the rest +of my life! I intend to converse and argue and importune and insist and +nag and nag. Oh, Jim! _Please_ ring for breakfast. I had no luncheon +yesterday and less dinner." + +A slight colour glowed under the white skin of her cheeks as Farris +entered with the fruit; she lifted a translucent cluster of grapes from +the dish, snipped it in half with the silver scissors, glanced at her +husband and laughed. + +[Illustration: "'_That's_ how hungry I am, Jim. I warned you'"] + +"_That's_ how hungry I am, Jim. I warned you. Of what are you +thinking--with that slight and rather fascinating smile crinkling your +eyes?" + +She bit into grape after grape, watching him across the table. + +"Share with me whatever amuses you, please!" she insisted. "Never with +my consent shall you ever again laugh alone." + +"You haven't seen last evening's and this morning's papers," he said, +amused. + +"Have they arrived? Oh, Jim! I wish to see them, please!" + +He went into his room and brought out a sheaf of clippings. + +"Isn't this all of the papers that you cared to see, Jacqueline?" + +"Of course! What _do_ they say about us? Are they brief or redundant, +laconic or diffuse? And are they nice to us?" + +She was already immersed in a quarter column account of "A Romantic +Wedding" at "old St. George's"; and she read with dilated eyes all about +the "wealthy, fashionable, and well-known clubman," which she understood +must mean her youthful husband, and all about Silverwood and the +celebrated collections, and about his lineage and his social activities. +And by and by she read about herself, and her charm and beauty and +personal accomplishments, and was amazed to learn that she, too, was not +only wealthy and fashionable, but that she was a descendant of an +ancient and noble family in France, entirely extinguished by the +guillotine during the Revolution, except for her immediate progenitors. + +Clipping after clipping she read to the end; then the simple notices +under "Weddings." Then she looked at Desboro. + +"I--I didn't realise what a very grand young man I had married," she +said, with a shy smile. "But I am very willing to admit it. Why do they +say such foolish and untrue things about _me_?" + +"They meant to honour you by lying about you when the truth about you is +far more noble and more wonderful," he said. + +"Do you think so?" + +"Do you doubt it?" + +She remained silent, turning over the clippings in her hand; then, +glancing up, found him smiling again. + +"Please share with me--because I know your thoughts are pleasant." + +"It was seeing you in these pretty Chinese robes," he smiled, "which +made me think of that evening in the armoury." + +"Oh--when I sat under the dragon, with my lute, and said for your guests +some legends of old Cathay?" + +"Yes. Seeing you here--in your Chinese robes--made me think of their +astonishment when you first dawned on their mental and social horizon. +They are worthy people," he added, with a shrug. + +"They are as God made them," she said, demurely. + +"Only they have always forgotten, as I have, that God merely begins +us--and we are expected to do the rest. For, once made, He merely winds +us up, sets our hearts ticking, and places us on top of the world. Where +we walk to, and how, is our own funeral henceforward. Is that your idea +of divine responsibility?" + +"I think He continues to protect us after we start to toddle; and after +that, too, if we ask Him," she answered, in a low voice. + +"Do you believe in prayer, dear?" + +"Yes--in unselfish prayer. Not in the acquisitive variety. Such +petitions seem ignoble to me." + +"I understand." + +She said, gravely: "To pray--not for one's self--except that one cause +no sorrow--that seems to me a logical petition. But I don't know. And +after all, what one does, not what one talks about, counts." + +She was occupied with her grapes, glancing up at him from moment to +moment with sweet, sincere eyes, sometimes curious, sometimes shy, but +always intent on this tall, boyish young fellow who, she vainly tried to +realise, belonged to her. + +In his morning jacket, somehow, he had become entirely another person; +his thick, closely brushed hair, the occult air of freshness from +ablutions that left a faint fragrance about him, accented their new +intimacy, the strangeness of which threatened at moments to silence her. +Nor could she realise that she belonged there at all--there, in her +frail morning draperies, at breakfast with him in a house which belonged +to him. + +Yet, one thing she was becoming vaguely aware of; this tall, young +fellow, in his man's intimate attire, was quietly and unvaryingly +considerate of her; had entirely changed from the man she seemed to have +known; had suddenly changed yesterday at midnight. And now she was aware +that he still remained what he had been when he took the white blossom +from her hand the night before, and left in her trembling palm, +untouched, the symbol of authority which now was his forever. + +Even in the fatigue of body and the deadlier mental weariness--in the +confused chaos of her very soul, that moment was clearly imprinted on +her mind--must remain forever recorded while life lasted. + +She divided another grape; there were no seeds; the skin melted in her +mouth. + +"Men," she said absently, "_are_ good." When he laughed, she came to +herself and looked at him with shy, humourous eyes. "They _are_ good, +Jim. Even the Chinese knew it thousands of years ago. Have you never +heard me recite the three-word-classic of San Tzu Ching? Then listen, +white man! + + "Jen chih ch'u + Hsing pen shan + Hsing hsiang chin + Hsi hsiang yuan + Kou pu chiao + Hsing nai ch'ien + Chiao chih tao + Kuei i chuan----" + +She sat swaying slightly to the rhythm, like a smiling child who recites +a rhyme of the nursery, accenting the termination of every line by +softly striking her palms together; and the silken Chinese sleeves +slipped back, revealing her white arms to the shoulder. + +Softly she smote her smooth little palms together, gracefully she +swayed; her silks rustled like the sound of slender reeds in a summer +wind, and her cadenced voice was softer. Never had he seen her so +exquisite. + +She stopped capriciously. + +"All that is Chinese to me," he said. "You make me feel solitary and +ignorant." + +And she laughed and tossed the lustrous hair from her cheeks. + +"This is all it means, dear: + + "Men at their birth + Are naturally good. + Their natures are much the same; + Their habits become widely different. + If they are not taught, + Their natures will deteriorate. + The right way in teaching + Is to attach the utmost importance to thoroughness---- + +"And so forth, and so forth," she ended gaily. + +"Where on earth did you learn Chinese?" he remonstrated. "You know +enough without that to scare me to death! Slowly but surely you are +overwhelming me, Jacqueline, and some day I shall leave the house, dig a +woodchuck hole out on the hill, and crawl into it permanently." + +"Then I'll have to crawl in, too, won't I? But, alas, Jim! The +three-word-classic is my limit. When father took me to Shanghai, I +learned it--three hundred and fifty-six lines of it! But it's all the +Chinese I know--except a stray phrase or two. Cheer up, dear; we won't +have to look for our shadows on that hill." + +Breakfast was soon accomplished; she looked shyly across at him; he +nodded, and they rose. + +"The question is," she said, "when am I going to find time to read the +remainder of the morning paper, and keep myself properly informed from +day to day, if you make breakfast so agreeable for me?" + +"Have I done that?" + +"You know you have," she said lightly. "Suppose you read the paper aloud +to me, while I stroll about for the sake of my figure." + +They laughed; he picked up the paper and began to read the headlines, +and she walked about the room, her hands bracketed on her hips, +listening sometimes, sometimes absorbed in her own reflections, now and +then glancing out of the window or pausing to rearrange a bowl of +flowers. + +Little by little, however, her leisurely progress from one point of +interest to another became more haphazard, and she moved restlessly, +with a tendency to drift in his direction. + +Perhaps she realised that, for she halted suddenly. + +"Jim, I have enough of politics, thank you. And it's almost time to put +on more conventional apparel, isn't it? I have a long and hard day +before me at the office." + +"As hard as yesterday?" he asked, unthinkingly; then reddened. + +She had moved to the window as she spoke; but he had seen the quick, +unconscious gesture of pain as her hand flew to her breast; and her +smiling courage when she turned toward him did not deceive him. + +"That _was_ a hard day, Jim. But I think the worst is over. And you may +read your paper if you wish until I am ready. You have only to put on +your business coat, haven't you?" + +So he tried to fix his mind on the paper, and, failing, laid it aside +and went to his room to make ready. + +When he was prepared, he returned to their sitting room. She was not +there, and the door of her bedroom was open and the window-curtains +fluttering. + +So he descended to the library, where he found her playing with his +assortment of animals, a cat tucked under either arm and a yellow pup on +her knees. + +"They all came to say good-morning," she explained, "and how could I +think of my clothing? Would you ask Farris to fetch a whisk-broom?" + +Desboro rang: "A whisk-broom for--for Mrs. Desboro," he said. + +_Mrs. Desboro!_ + +She had looked up startled; it was the first time she had heard it from +his lips, and even the reiteration of her maid had not accustomed her to +hear herself so named. + +Both had blushed before Farris, both had thrilled as the words had +fallen from Desboro's unaccustomed lips; but both attempted to appear +perfectly tranquil and undisturbed by what had shocked them as no bomb +explosion possibly could. And the old man came back with the +whisk-broom, and Desboro dusted the cat fur and puppy hairs from +Jacqueline's brand-new gown. + +They were going to town by train, not having time to spare. + +"It will be full of commuters," he said, teasingly. "You don't know what +a godsend a bride is to commuters. I pity _you_." + +"I shall point my nose particularly high, monsieur. Do you suppose I'll +know anybody aboard?" + +"What if you don't! They'll know who _you_ are! And they'll all read +their papers and stare at you from time to time, comparing you with what +the papers say about you----" + +"Jim! Stop tormenting me. Do I look sallow and horrid? I believe I'll +run up to my room and do a little friction on my cheeks----" + +"With nail polish?" + +"How do _you_ know? Please, Jim, it isn't nice to know so much about the +makeshifts indulged in by my sex." + +She stood pinching her cheeks and the tiny lobes of her close-set ears, +regarding him with beautiful but hostile eyes. + +"You know too much, young man. You don't wish to make me afraid of you, +do you? Anyway, you are no expert! Once you thought my hair was painted, +and my lips, too. If I'd known what you were thinking I'd have made +short work of you that rainy afternoon----" + +"You _did_." + +She laughed: "You _can_ say nice things, too. Did you really begin +to--to care for me that actual afternoon?" + +"That actual afternoon." + +"A--about what time--if you happen to remember," she asked carelessly. + +"About the same second that I first set eyes on you." + +"Oh, Jim, you _couldn't_!" + +"Couldn't what?" + +"Care for me the actual second you first set eyes on me. Could you?" + +"I _did_." + +"Was it _that_ very second?" + +"Absolutely." + +"You didn't show it." + +"Well, you know I couldn't very well kneel down and make you a +declaration before I knew your name, could I, dear?" + +"You did it altogether too soon as it was. Jim, what _did_ you think of +me?" + +"You ought to know by this time." + +"I don't. I suppose you took one look at me and decided that I was all +ready to fall into your arms. Didn't you?" + +"You haven't done it yet," he said lightly. + +There was a pause; the colour came into her face, and his own reddened. +But she pretended to be pleasantly unconscious of the significance, and +only interested in reminiscence. + +"Do you know what I thought of you, Jim, when you first came in?" + +"Not much, I fancy," he conceded. + +"Will it spoil you if I tell you?" + +"Have you spoiled me very much, Jacqueline?" + +"Of course I have," she said hastily. "Listen, and I'll tell you what I +thought of you when you first came in. I looked up, and of course I knew +at a glance that you were nice; and I was very much impressed----" + +"The deuce you were!" he laughed, unbelievingly. + +"I was!" + +"You didn't show it." + +"Only an idiot of a girl would. But I was--very--greatly--impressed," +she continued, with a delightfully pompous emphasis on every word, +"very--greatly--impressed by the tall and fashionable and elegant and +agreeably symmetrical Mr. Desboro, owner of the celebrated collection of +arms and armour----" + +"I knew it!" + +"Knew what?" + +"You never even took the trouble to look at me until you found out that +the armour belonged to me----" + +"That is what _ought_ to have been true. But it wasn't." + +"Did you actually----" + +"Yes, I did. Not the very second I laid eyes on you----" she added, +blushing slightly, "but--when you went away--and afterward--that evening +when I was trying to read Grenville on Armour." + +"You thought of me, Jacqueline?" + +[Illustration: "'It was rather odd, wasn't it, Jim?'"] + +"Yes--and tried not to. But it was no use; I seemed to see you laughing +at me under every helmet in Grenville's plates. It was rather odd, +wasn't it, Jim? And to think--to think that now----" + +Her smile grew vaguer; she dropped her head thoughtfully and rested one +hand on the library table, where once her catalogue notes had been piled +up--where once Elena's letter to her husband had fallen from +Clydesdale's heavy hand. + +Then, gradually into her remote gaze came something else, something +Desboro had learned to dread; and she raised her head abruptly and gazed +straight at him with steady, questioning eyes in which there was a hint +of trouble of some kind--perhaps unbelief. + +"I suppose you are going to your office," she said. + +"After I have taken you to yours, dear." + +"You will be at leisure before I am, won't you?" + +"Unless you knock off work at four o'clock. Can you?" + +"I can not. What will you do until five, Jim?" + +"There will be nothing for me to do except wait for you." + +"Where will you wait?" + +He shrugged: "At the club, I suppose." + +The car rolled up past the library windows. + +"I suppose," she said carelessly, "that it would be too stupid for you +to wait _chez moi_." + +"In your office? No, indeed----" + +"I meant in my apartment. You could smoke and read--but perhaps you +wouldn't care to." + +They went out into the hall, where her maid held her ulster for her and +Farris put Desboro into his coat. + +Then they entered the car which swung around the oval and glided away +toward Silverwood station. + +"To tell you the truth, dear," he said, "it _would_ be rather slow for +me to sit in an empty room until you were ready to join me." + +"Of course. You'd find it more amusing at your club." + +"I'd rather be with you at your office." + +"Thank you. But some of my clients stipulate that no third person shall +be present when their business is discussed." + +"All right," he said, shortly. + +The faint warmth of their morning's _rapprochement_ seemed somehow to +have turned colder, now that they were about to separate for the day. +Both felt it; neither understood it. But the constraint which perhaps +they thought too indefinite to analyse persisted. She did not fully +understand it, except that, in the aftermath of the storm which had nigh +devastated her young heart, her physical nearness to him seemed to help +the tiny seed of faith which she had replanted in agony and tears the +night before. + +To see him, hear his voice, somehow aided her; and the charm of his +personality for a while had reawakened and encouraged in her the courage +to love him. The winning smile in his eyes had, for the time, laid the +phantoms of doubt; memory had become less sensitive; the demon of +distrust which she had fought off so gallantly lay somewhere inert and +almost forgotten in the dim chamber of her mind. + +But not dead--no; for somewhere in obscurity she had been conscious for +an instant that her enemy was stirring. + +Must this always be so? Was faith in this man really dead? Was it only +the image of faith which her loyalty and courage had set up once more +for an altar amid the ruins of her young heart? + +And always, always, even when she seemed unaware, even when she had +unconsciously deceived herself, her consciousness of the _other woman_ +remained alive, like a spark, whitened at moments by its own ashes, yet +burning terribly when touched. + +Slowly she began to understand that her supposed new belief in this man +would endure only while he was within her sight; that the morning's +warmth had slowly chilled as the hour of their separation approached; +that her mind was becoming troubled and confused, and her heart +uncertain and apprehensive. + +And as she thought of the future--years and years of it--there seemed no +rest for her, only endless effort and strife, only the external exercise +of mental and spiritual courage to fight back the creeping shadow which +must always threaten her--the shadow that Doubt casts, and which men +call Fear. + +"Shall we go to town in the car?" he said, looking at his watch. "We +have time; the train won't be in for twenty minutes." + +"If you like." + +He picked up the speaking tube and gave his orders, then lay back again +to watch the familiar landscape with worried eyes that saw other things +than hills and trees and wintry fields and the meaningless abodes of +men. + +So this was what Fate had done to him--_this_! And every unconsidered +act of his had been slyly, blandly, maliciously leading him into this +valley of humiliation. + +He had sometimes thought of marrying, never very definitely, except +that, if love were to be the motive, he would have ample time, after +that happened, to reform before his wedding day. Also, he had expected +to remain in a laudable and permanent state of regeneration, marital +treachery not happening to suit his fastidious taste. + +That was what he had intended in the improbable event of marriage. And +now, suddenly, from a clear sky, the bolt had found him; love, +courtship, marriage, had followed with a rapidity he could scarcely +realise; and had left him stranded on the shores of yesterday, +discredited, distrusted, deeply, wretchedly in love; not only unable to +meet on equal terms the young girl who had become his wife, but the +involuntary executioner of her tender faith in him! + +To this condition the laws of compensation consigned him. The man-made +laws which made his complaisance possible could not help him now; the +unwritten social law which acknowledges a double standard of purity for +man and woman he must invoke in vain. Before the tribunal of her clear, +sweet eyes, and before the chastity of her heart and mind, the ignoble +beliefs, the lying precedents, the false standards must fall. + +There had been no shelter there for him, and he had known it. Reticence, +repentance, humble vows for the future--these had been left to him, he +supposed. + +But the long, dim road to yesterday was thronged with ghosts, and his +destiny came swiftly upon him. Tortured, humiliated, helpless, he saw +the lash that cut him fall also upon her. + +Sooner or later, all that is secret of good or of evil shall be made +manifest, here or elsewhere; and the suffering may not be abated. And he +began to understand that reticence can not forever hide what has been; +that no silence can screen it; no secrecy conceal it; that reaction +invariably succeeds action; and not a finger is ever lifted that the +universe does not experience the effect. + +How he or fate might have spared her, he did not know. What she had +learned about him he could not surmise. As far as Elena was concerned, +he had been no worse than a fastidious fool dangling about a weaker and +less fastidious one. If gossip of that nature had brought this grief +upon her, it was damnable. + +All he could do was to deny it. He _had_ denied it. But denial, alas, +was limited to that particular episode. He could not make it more +sweeping; he _was not on equal ground with her_; he was at a +disadvantage. Only spiritual equality dare face its peer, fearless, +serene, and of its secrets unafraid. + +Yet--she had surmised what he had been; she had known. And, insensibly, +he began to feel a vague resentment toward her, almost a bitterness. +Because she had accepted him without any illusion concerning him. That +had been understood between them. She knew he loved her; she loved him. +Already better things had been in sight for him, loftier aspirations, +the stirring of ambition. And suddenly, almost at the altar itself, this +thing had happened--whatever it was! And all her confidence in him, all +her acquiescence in what had been, all her brave words and promises--all +except the mere naked love in her breast had crashed earthward under its +occult impact, leaving their altar on their wedding night shattered, +fireless, and desolate. + +He set his teeth and the muscles in his cheeks hardened. + +"By God!" he thought. "I'll find out what this thing is, and who has +done it. She knew what I was. There is a limit to humiliation. Either +she shall again accept me and believe in me, or--or----" + +But there seemed to present itself no alternative which he could +tolerate; and the thread of thought snapped short. + +They were entering the city limits now, and he began to realise that +neither had spoken for nearly an hour. + +He ventured to glance sideways at her. The exquisitely sad profile +against the window thrilled him painfully, almost to the verge of anger. +Unwedded, she had been nearer to him. Even in his arms, shy and utterly +unresponsive, she had been closer, a more vital thing, than ever she had +been since the law had made her his wife. + +For a moment the brutality in him stirred, and he felt the heat of blood +in his face, and his heart grew restless and beat faster. All that is +latent in man of impatience with pain, of intolerance, of passion, of +violence, throbbed in every vein. + +Then she turned and looked at him. And it was ended as suddenly as it +began. Only his sense of helplessness and his resentment +remained--resentment against fate, against the unknown people who had +done this thing to him and to her; against himself and his folly; even +subtly, yet illogically, against her. + +"I was thinking," she said, "that we might at least lunch together--if +you would care to." + +"Would _you_?" he asked coldly. + +"If you would." + +His lip began to tremble and he caught it between his teeth; then his +anger flared, and before he meant to he had said: + +"A jolly luncheon it would be, wouldn't it?" + +"What?" + +"I said it would be a jolly affair--considering the situation." + +"What is the situation, Jim?" she asked, very pale. + +"Oh, what I've made of it, I suppose--a failure!" + +"I--I thought we were trying to remake it into a success." + +"Can we?" + +"We must, Jim." + +"How?" + +She was silent. + +"I'll tell you how we can _not_ make a success out of it," he said +hotly, "and that's by doing what we have been doing." + +"We have--have had scarcely time yet to do anything very much." + +"We've done enough to widen the breach between us--however we've managed +to accomplish it. That's all I know, Jacqueline." + +"I thought the breach was closing." + +"I thought so, too, this morning." + +"Wounds can not heal over night," she said, in a low voice. + +"Wounds can not heal at all if continually irritated." + +"I know it. Give me a little time, Jim. It is all so new to me, and +there is no precedent to follow--and I haven't very much wisdom. I am +only trying to find myself so I shall know how best to serve you----" + +"I don't want to be served, Jacqueline! I want you to love me----" + +"I do." + +"You do in a hurt, reproachful, frightened, don't-touch-me sort of +way----" + +"Jim!" + +"I'm sorry; I don't know what I'm saying. There isn't anything for me to +say, I suppose. But I don't seem to have the spirit of endurance in +me--humble submission isn't my line; delay makes me impatient. I want +things to be settled, no matter what the cost. When I repent, I repent +like the devil--just as hard and as fast as I can. Then it's over and +done with. But nobody else seems to notice my regeneration." + +For a moment her face was a study in mixed emotions, then a troubled +smile curved her lips, but her eyes were unconvinced. + +"You are only a boy, aren't you?" she said gently. "I know it, somehow, +but there is still a little awe of you left in me, and I can't quite +understand. Won't you be patient with me, Jim?" + +He bent over and caught her hand. + +"Only love me, Jacqueline----" + +"Oh, I do! I do! And I don't know what to do about it! All my thoughts +are concentrated on it, how best to make it strong, enduring, noble! How +best to shelter it, bind up its wounds, guard it, defend it. I--I know +in my heart that I've got to defend it----" + +"What do you mean, my darling?" + +"I don't know--I don't know, Jim. Only--if I knew--if I could always +know----" + +She turned her head swiftly and stared out of the window. On the glass, +vaguely, Elena's shadowy features seemed to smile at her. + +Was _that_ what tortured her? Was that what she wished to know when she +and this man separated for the day--_where the woman was_? Had her +confidence in him been so utterly, so shamefully destroyed that it had +lowered her to an ignoble level--hurled down her dignity and +self-respect to grovel amid unworthy and contemptible emotions? Was it +the vulgar vice of jealousy that was beginning to fasten itself upon +her? + +Sickened, she closed her eyes a moment; but on the lids was still +imprinted the face of the woman; and her words began to ring in her +brain. And thought began to gallop again, uncurbed, frantic, stampeding. +How could he have done it? How could he have carried on this terrible +affair after he had met her, after he had known her, loved her, won her? +How could he have received that woman as a guest under the same roof +that sheltered her? How could he have made a secret rendezvous with the +woman scarcely an hour after he had asked her to marry him? + +Even if anybody had come to her and told her of these things she could +have found it in her heart to find excuses, to forgive him; she could +have believed that he had received Elena and arranged a secret meeting +with her merely to tell her that their intrigue was at an end. + +She could have accustomed herself to endure the knowledge of this +concrete instance. And, whatever else he might have done in the past she +could endure; because, to her, it was something too abstract, too vague +and foreign to her to seem real. + +But the attitude and words of Elena Clydesdale--the unmistakable +impression she coolly conveyed that this thing was not yet ended, had +poisoned the very spring of her faith in him. And the welling waters +were still as bitter as death to her. + +What did faith matter to her in the world if she could not trust this +man? Of what use was it other than to believe in him? And now she could +not. She had tried, and she could not. Only when he was near her--only +when she might see him, hear him, could she ever again feel sure of him. +And now they were to separate for the day. And--where was he going? And +where was the other woman? + +And her heart almost stopped in her breast as she thought of the days +and days and years and years to come in which she must continue to ask +herself these questions. + +Yet, in the same quick, agonised breath, she knew she was going to fight +for him--do battle in behalf of that broken and fireless altar where +love lay wounded. + +There were many ways of doing battle, but only one right way. And she +had thought of many--confused, frightened, unknowing, praying for +unselfishness and for light to guide her. + +But there were so many ways; and the easiest had been to forgive him, +surrender utterly, cling to him, love him with every tenderness and +grace and accomplishment and art and instinct that was hers--with all of +her ardent youth, all of her dawning emotion, all of her undeveloped +passion. + +That had been the easier way in the crisis which stunned and terrified +her--to seek shelter, not give it; to surrender, not to withhold. + +But whether through wisdom or instinct, she seemed to see farther than +the moment--to divine, somehow, that his salvation and hers lay not only +in forgiveness and love, but in her power to give or withhold; her +freedom to exact what justly was her due; in the preservation of her +individuality with all its prerogative, its liberty of choice, its +self-respect unshaken, its authority unweakened and undiminished. + +To yield when he was not qualified to receive such supreme surrender +boded ill for her, and ultimately for him; for it made of her merely an +instrument. + +Somehow she seemed to know that sometime, for her, would come a moment +of final victory; and in that moment only her utter surrender could make +the victory eternal and complete. + +And until that moment came she would not surrender prematurely. She had +a fight on her hands; she knew it; she must do her best, though her own +heart were a sword that pierced her with every throb. For his sake she +would deny; for his sake remain aloof from the lesser love, inviolate, +powerful, mistress of herself and of her destiny. + +And yet--she _was_ his wife. And, after all was said and done, she +understood that no dual sovereignty ever is possible; that one or the +other must have the final decision; and that if, when it came to that, +his ultimate authority failed him, then their spiritual union was a +failure, though the material one might endure for a while. + +And so, believing this, honest with herself and with him, she had +offered him her fealty--a white blossom and her key lying beside it in +the palm of her hand--in acknowledgment that the supreme decision lay +with him. + +He had not failed her; the final authority still lay with him. Only that +knowledge had sustained her during the long night. + +The car stopped at her establishment; she came out of her painful +abstraction with a slight start, flushed, and looked at him. + +"Will you lunch with me, Jim?" + +"I think I'll lunch at the club," he said, coolly. + +"Very well. Will you bring the car around at five?" + +"The car will be here for you." + +"And--you?" She tried to smile. + +"Probably." + +"Oh! If you have any engagements----" + +"I might make one between now and five," he said carelessly. "If I do, +I'll come up on the train." + +She had not been prepared for this attitude. But there was nothing to +say. He got out and aided her to descend, and took her to the door. His +manners were always faultless. + +"I hope you will come for me," she said, almost timidly. + +"I hope so," he said. + +And that was all; she offered her hand; he took it, smiled, and replaced +his hat after the shop door closed behind her. + +Then he went back to the car. + +"Drive me to Mrs. Hammerton's," he said curtly; got in, and slammed the +door. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +A surprised and very doubtful maid admitted him to Mrs. Hammerton's tiny +reception room and took his card; and he fidgeted there impatiently +until the maid returned to conduct him. + +Mrs. Hammerton sat at coffee in the combination breakfast and dining +room of her pretty little apartment. He had never seen her wear glasses, +but a pair, presumably hers, was lying across the morning paper on the +edge of the table. + +Windows behind her threw her face into shadow against the sunlight, and +he could not clearly distinguish her features. A canary sang +persistently in the sunshine; a friendly cat yawned on the window sill. + +"Have some coffee, James?" she asked, without greeting him. + +"Thanks, I've breakfasted." + +"Very well. There's a chair." She motioned dismissal to the maid. "And +close the door!" she added curtly. + +The maid vanished, closing the door. Aunt Hannah poured more coffee for +herself; now she began to browse on toast and bacon. + +"Have you seen the papers?" he asked bluntly. + +Her eyes snapped fire: "That was a brave thing _you_ did! I never knew +any of the Desboros were cowards." + +He looked at her in angry astonishment. + +"Well, what do _you_ call it if it isn't cowardice--to slink off and +marry a defenseless girl like that!" + +"Did you expect me to give you a chance to destroy me and poison +Jacqueline's mind? If I _had_ been guilty of the thing with which you +charge me, what I have done _would_ have been cowardly. Otherwise, it is +justified." + +"You have been guilty of enough without that particular thing to rule +you out." + +"If," he said, controlling his anger, "you really were appointed God's +deputy on earth, you'd have to rule out the majority of men who attempt +to marry." + +"I'd do it, too," she remarked. + +"Fortunately," he went on, "your authority for meddling is only self +delegated. You once threatened me. You gave me warning like a fair +adversary. But even rattlesnakes do that!" + +He could see her features more plainly now, having become accustomed to +the light; and her scornful expression and the brilliant danger in her +beady eyes did not escape him. She darted at a bit of toast and +swallowed it. + +"So," he ended calmly, "I merely accepted the warning and acted +accordingly--if you call that cowardly." + +"I see. You were much too clever for me. In other words, you forestalled +me, didn't you?" + +"Ask yourself, Aunt Hannah." + +"No, I ask you. You _did_ forestall me, didn't you, Jim?" + +"I think it amounts to that." + +"Oh! Then why are you here at this hour of the morning, after your +wedding night?" + +There was a silence. Presently she put on her glasses and glanced at +the paper. When he had his temper and his voice under absolute control +again, he said very quietly: + +"Somebody is trying to make my wife unhappy. May I ask if it is you?" + +"Certainly you may ask, James. Ask as many times as you like." She +continued to scan the paper. + +"I do ask," he insisted. + +[Illustration: "'Why don't you ask your--wife?'"] + +She laid aside the paper and took off her glasses: + +"Very well; failing to obtain the desired information from me, why don't +you ask your--wife?" + +"I have asked her," he said, in a low voice. + +"Oh, I see! Jacqueline also refuses the desired information. So you come +to inquire of me. Is that it?" + +"Yes, that is it." + +"You go behind your wife's back----" + +"Don't talk that way, please." + +"Indeed! Now, listen very attentively, James, because that is exactly +the way I am going to talk to you. And I'll begin by telling you plainly +just what you have done. _You_--and you know what _you_ are--have +married clandestinely a young, innocent, inexperienced girl. You, who +are not fit to decide the fate of a new-born yellow pup, have assumed +the irrevocable responsibility of this girl's future--arranged it +yourself in the teeth of the eternal fitness and decency of things! +_You_, James Desboro, a good-for-nothing idler, irresponsible +spendthrift, half bankrupt, without ambition, without a profession, +without distinction except that you have good looks and misleading +manners and a line of ancestors which would make an Englishman laugh. + +"When you did this thing you knew you were not fit to tie her shoes. +You knew, too, that those who really love her and who might have +shielded her except for this--this treachery, had warned you to keep +your distance. You knew more than that; you knew that our little +Jacqueline had all her life before her; that for the first time in her +brief career the world was opening its arms to her; that she was certain +to be popular, sure to be welcomed, respected, liked, loved. You knew +that now she was going to have her chance; that men of distinction, of +attainment, of lofty ideals and irreproachable private lives--men well +to do materially, too--men of wealth, ambitious men, forceful men who +count, certainly would seek her, surround her, prefer her, give her what +she had a right to have--the society of her intellectual peers--the +exercise of a free, untrammeled judgment, and, ultimately, the +opportunity to select from among real men the man most worthy of such a +woman as she is." + +Mrs. Hammerton laid one shapely hand on the table, fingers clenched, +and, half rising, fairly glared at Desboro. + +"You have cheated her out of what was her due! You have stolen her +future! You have robbed her of a happy and worthy career to link her +life with your career--_your_ career--or whatever you call the futile +parody on life which men of your sort enact, disgracing God that He knew +no more than to create you! And my righteous anger against you is not +wholly personal--not because you have swindled me alone--taken from me +the only person I have really ever cared for--killed her confidence in +me, her tenderness--but because you have cheated _her_, and the world, +too! For she is a rare woman--a rare, sweet woman, James. And _that_ is +what you have done to the civilisation that has tolerated you!" + +He had risen, astounded; but as her denunciation of him became fiercer, +and the concentrated fury in her eyes more deadly, a slightly dazed +feeling began to dull his own rage, and he found himself listening as +though a mere spectator at the terrible arraignment of another man. + +He remained standing. But she had finished; and she was shaking a little +when she resumed her chair; and still he stood there, pallid, staring at +space. For several minutes neither of them stirred. Finally she said, in +a harsh but modified voice: + +"I will tell you this much. Since I have known that she is married I +have not interfered. On the contrary, I have written her offering her my +love, my sympathy, and my devotion as long as I live. But it is a +terrible and wicked thing that you have done. And I can see little +chance for her, little hope, and less of happiness--when she fully +realises what she has done, and what you have done to her--when she +really understands how low she has stooped and to what level she has +descended to find the man she has married." + +He merely gazed at her without expression. She shook her head. + +"Hers will become a solitary life, intellectually and spiritually. There +is nothing in you to mate with it. Only materially are you of the +slightest use--and I think I am not mistaken when I say your usefulness +even there is pitiably limited, and that what you have to offer her will +not particularly attract her. For she is a rare woman, James--a species +of being absolutely different from you. And it had been well for you, +also, if you had been wise enough to let her alone. High altitudes +don't agree with you; and not even the merry company on Mount +Olympus--let alone the graver gathering higher up--are suitable for such +as you and your mundane kind." + +He nodded, scarcely conscious of his mechanical acquiescence in what she +said. Hat and stick in hand, he moved slowly toward the door. She, +watching his departure, said in a lower voice: + +"You and I are of the same species. I am no better than you, James. +But--she is different. And you and I are capable of recognising that +there _is_ a difference. It seems odd, almost ridiculous to find out at +this late date that it is not an alliance with fashion, wealth, family, +social connections, that can do honour to Jacqueline Nevers, bourgeoise +daughter of a French shop-keeper; it is Jacqueline who honours the caste +to which, alas, she has not risen, but into which she has descended. God +knows how far such a sour and soggy loaf can be leavened by such as +she--or what she can do for you! Perhaps----" + +She checked herself and shook her head. He walked back to her, made his +adieux mechanically, then went out slowly, like a man in a trance. + +Down in the sunny street the car was waiting; he entered and sat there, +giving no orders, until the chauffeur, leaning wide from his seat and +still holding open the door, ventured to remind him. + +"Oh, yes! Then--you may drive me to Mrs. Clydesdale's." + + * * * * * + +But the woman whose big and handsome house was now his destination, had +forbidden her servants to disturb her that morning; so when Desboro +presented himself, only his card was received at the door. + +Elena, in the drawing-room, hearing the bell, had sprung to her feet and +stepped into the upper hall to listen. + +She heard Desboro's voice and shivered, heard her butler say that she +was not at home, heard the bronze doors clash behind him. + +Then, with death in her heart, she went back noiselessly into the +drawing-room where Mr. Waudle, who was squatting on a delicate French +chair, retaining his seat, coolly awaited a resumption of the +interrupted conference. As a matter of fact, he resumed it himself +before she was seated on the sofa at his elbow. + +"As I was telling you," he continued, "I've got to make a living. Why +shouldn't you help me? We were friends once. You found me amusing enough +in the old days----" + +"Until you became impudent!" + +"Who provoked me? Women need never fear familiarity unless they +encourage it!" + +"It was absolutely innocent on my part----" + +"Oh, hell!" he said, disgustedly. "It's always the man's fault! When you +pull a cat's tail and the animal scratches, it's the cat's fault. All +right, then; granted! But the fact remains that if you hadn't looked +sideways at me it never would have entered my head to make any advances +to you." Which was a lie. All men made advances to Elena. + +"Leave it so," she said, with the angry flush deepening in her cheeks. + +"Sure, I'll leave it; but I'm not going to leave _you_. Not yet, Elena. +You owe me something for what you've done to me." + +"Oh! Is _that_ the excuse?" she nodded scornfully; but her heart was +palpitating with fear, and her lips had become dry again. + +He surveyed her insolently under his heavy eyelids. + +"Come," he said, "what are you going to do about it? You are the +fortunate one; you have everything--I nothing. And, plainly, I'm sick of +it. What are you going to do?" + +"Suppose," she said, steadily, "that I tell my husband what you are +doing? Had you considered _that_ possibility?" + +"Tell him if you like." + +She shrugged. + +"What you are doing is blackmail, isn't it?" she asked disdainfully. + +"Call it what you please," he said. "Suit yourself, Elena. But there is +a bunch of manuscript in the _Tattler's_ office which goes into print +the moment you play any of your catty games on me. Understand?" + +She said, very pale: "Will you not tell me--give me some hint about what +you have written?" + +He laughed: "Better question your own memory, little lady. Maybe it +isn't about you and Desboro at all; maybe it's something else." + +"There was nothing else." + +"There was--_me_!" + +"You?" + +"Sure," he said cheerfully. "What happened in Philadelphia, if put +skillfully before any jury, would finish _you_." + +"_Nothing_ happened! And you know it!" she exclaimed, revolted. + +"But juries--and the public--don't know. All they can do is to hear the +story and then make up their minds. If you choose to let them hear +_your_ story----" + +"There was nothing! I did nothing! _Nothing_----" she faltered. + +"But God knows the facts look ugly," he retorted, with smirking +composure. "You're a clever girl; ask yourself what you'd think if the +facts about you and young Desboro--you and me--were skillfully brought +out?" + +She sat dumb, frightened, twisting her fingers; then, in the sudden +anger born of torture: + +"If I am disgraced, what will happen to _you_!" she flashed out--and +knew in the same breath that the woman invariably perishes where the man +usually survives; and sat silent and pallid again, her wide eyes +restlessly roaming about her as though seeking refuge. + +"Also," he said, "if you sue the _Tattler_ for slander, there's Munger, +you know. He saw us in Philadelphia that night----" + +"What!" + +"Certainly. And if a jury learned that you and I were in the same----" + +"I did not dream you were to be in the same hotel--in those rooms--you +miserable----" + +"Easy, little lady! Easy, now! Never mind what you did or didn't dream. +You're up against reality, now. So never mind about me at all. Let that +Philadelphia business go; it isn't essential. I've enough to work on +without _that_!" + +[Illustration: "'I do not believe you,' she said between her teeth"] + +"I do not believe you," she said, between her teeth. + +"Oh! Are you really going to defy me?" + +"Perhaps." + +"I see," he said, thoughtfully, rising and looking instinctively around. +He had the quick, alert side-glance which often characterises lesser +adepts in his profession. + +Then, half way to the door, he turned on her again: + +"Look here, Elena, I'm tired of this! You fix it so that your husband +keeps those porcelains, or I'll go down town now and turn in that +manuscript! Come on! Which is it?" + +"Go, if you like!" + +There ensued a breathless silence; his fat hand was on the door, pushing +it already, when a stifled exclamation from her halted him. After a +moment he turned warily. + +"I'm desperate," he said. "Pay, or I show you up. Which is it to be?" + +"I--how do I know? What proof have I that you can damage me----" + +He came all the way back, moistening his thick lips, for he had played +his last card at the door; and, for a second, he supposed that he was +beaten. + +"Now, see here," he said, "I don't want to do this. I don't want to +smash anybody, let alone a woman. But, by God! I'll do it if you don't +come across. So make up your mind, Elena." + +She strove to sustain his gaze and he leered at her. Finally he sat down +beside her: + +"I said I wouldn't give you any proofs. But I guess I will. I'll prove +to you that I've got you good and plenty, little lady. Will that satisfy +you?" + +"Prove it!" she strove to say; but her lips scarcely obeyed her. + +"All right. Do you remember one evening, just before Christmas, when you +and your husband had been on the outs?" + +She bit her lip in silence. + +"_Do_ you?" he insisted. + +"Perhaps." + +"All right, so far," he sneered. "Did he perhaps tell you that he had an +appointment at the Kiln Club with a man who was interested in porcelains +and jades?" + +"No." + +"Well, he did. He had an appointment for that night. I was the man." + +She understood nothing. + +"So," he said, "I waited three hours at the Kiln Club and your husband +didn't show up. Then I telephoned his house. You and he were probably +having your family row just then, for the maid said he was there, but +was too busy to come to the telephone. So I said that I'd come up to the +house in half an hour." + +Still she did not comprehend. + +"Wait a bit, little lady," he continued, with sly enjoyment of his own +literary methods. "The climax comes where it belongs, not where you +expect it. So now we'll read you a chapter in which a bitter wind blows +heavily, and a solitary taxicab might have been seen outward bound +across the wintry wastes of Gotham Town. Get me?" + +She merely looked at him. + +"In that low, black, rakish taxi," he went on, "sat an enterprising man +bent upon selling to your husband the very porcelains which he +subsequently bought. In other words, _I_ sat in that taxi. _I_ stopped +in front of this house; _I_ saw _you_ leave the house and go scurrying +away like a scared rabbit. And then I went up the steps, rang, was +admitted, told to wait in the library. I waited." + +"Where?" The word burst from her involuntarily. + +"In the library," he repeated. "It's a nice, cosy, comfortable place, +isn't it? Fine fat sofas, soft cushions, fire in the grate--oh, a very +comfortable place, indeed! I thought so, anyway, while I was waiting for +your husband to come down stairs." + +"It appeared that he had finally received my telephone +message--presumably after you and he had finished your row--and had left +word that I was to be admitted. That's why they let me in. So I waited +very, v--ery comfortably in the library; and somebody had thoughtfully +set out cigars, and whisky, and lemon, and sugar, _and_ a jug of hot +water. It _was_ a cold night, if you remember." + +He paused long enough to leer at her. + +"Odd," he remarked, "how pleasantly things happen sometimes. And, as I +sat there in that big leather chair--you must know which one I mean, +Elena--it is the fattest and most comforting--I smoked my cigar and +sipped my hot grog, and gazed innocently around. And _what_ do you +suppose my innocent eyes encountered--just like that?" + +"W--what?" she breathed. + +"Why, a letter!" he said, jovially slapping his fat thigh, "a real +letter lying right in the middle of the table--badly sealed, Elena--very +carelessly sealed--just the gummed point of the envelope clinging to the +body of it. Now, wasn't that a peculiar thing for an enterprising young +man to discover, I ask you?" + +He leered and leered into her white face; then, satisfied, he went on: + +"The writing was _yours_, dearie. I recognised it. It was addressed to +your own husband, who lived under the same roof. _And_ I had seen you +creep out, close the front door softly, and scurry away into the night." +He made a wide gesture with his fat hands. + +"Naturally," he said, "I thought I ought to summon a servant to call +your husband, so I could tell him what I had seen you do. But--there was +a quicker way to learn what your departure meant--whether you were at +that moment making for the river or for Maxim's--anyway, I knew there +was no time to be lost. So----" + +She shrank away and half rose, strangling a cry of protest. + +"Sure I did!" he said coolly. "I read your note very carefully, then +licked the envelope and resealed it, and put it into my pocket. After +all, Mr. Desboro is a man. It was none of my business to interfere. So I +let him have what was coming to him--and you, too." He shrugged and +waved his hand. "Your husband came down later; we talked jades and +porcelains and prices until I nearly yawned my head off. And when it was +time to go, I slipped the letter back on the table. After all, you and +Desboro had had your fling; why shouldn't hubby have an inning?" + +He lay back in his chair and laughed at the cowering woman, who had +dropped her arms on the back of her chair and buried her face in them. +Something about the situation struck him as being very funny. He +regarded her for a few moments, then rose and walked to the door. There +he turned. + +"Fix it for me! Understand?" he said sharply; and went out. + +As the bronze doors closed behind Mr. Waudle, Elena started and lifted +her frightened face from her arms. For a second or two she sat there, +listening, then rose and walked swiftly and noiselessly to the bay +window. Mr. Waudle was waddling down the street. Across the way, keeping +a parallel course, walked the Cubist poet, his ankle-high trousers +flapping. They did not even glance at each other until they reached the +corner of Madison Avenue. Here they both boarded the same car going +south. Mr. Waudle was laughing. + +She came back into the drawing-room and stood, clasped hands twisting in +sheer agony. + +To whom could she turn now? What was there to do? Since January she had +given this man so much money that almost nothing remained of her +allowance. + +How could she go to her husband again? Never had she betrayed the +slightest sympathy for him or any interest in his hobby until his anger +was awakened by the swindle of which he had been a victim. + +Then, for the first time, under the menacing pressure from Waudle, she +had attempted finesse--manoeuvred as skillfully as possible in the +short space of time allotted her, cleverly betrayed an awakening +interest in her husband's collection, pretended to a sudden caprice for +the forgeries recently acquired, and carried off very well her +astonishment when informed that the jades and porcelains were swindling +imitations made in Japan. + +It had been useless for her to declare that, whatever they were, she +liked them. Her husband would have none of them in spite of his evident +delight in her sudden interest. He promised to undertake her +schooling in the proper appreciation of all things Chinese--promised to +be her devoted mentor and companion in the eternal hunt for specimens. +Which was scarcely what she wanted. + +But he flatly refused to encourage her in her admiration for these +forgeries or to tolerate such junk under his roof. + +[Illustration: "What was she to do? She had gone half mad with fear"] + +What was she to do? She had gone, half mad with fear, to throw herself +upon the sympathy and mercy of Jacqueline Nevers. Terrified, tortured, +desperate, she had even thought to bribe the girl to pronounce the +forgeries genuine. Then, suddenly, at the mere mention of Desboro, she +had gone all to pieces. And when it became clear to her that there was +already an understanding between this girl and the man she had counted +on as her last resort, fear and anger completed her demoralisation. + +She remembered the terrible scene now, remembered what she had said--her +shameless attitude--the shameful lie which her words and her attitude +had forced Jacqueline to understand. + +Why she had acted such a monstrous falsehood she scarcely knew; whether +it had been done to cut the suspected bond between Desboro and +Jacqueline before it grew too strong to sever--whether it had been sheer +hysteria under the new shock--whether it was reckless despair that had +hardened her to a point where she meant to take the final plunge and +trust to Desboro's chivalry, she did not know then; she did not know +now. + +But the avalanche she had loosened that night in December, when she +wrote her note and went to Silverwood, was still thundering along behind +her, gathering new force every day, until the menacing roar of it never +ceased in her ears. + +And now it had swept her last possible resource away--Desboro. All her +humiliation, all her shame, the lie she had acted, had not availed. This +girl had married him after all. Like a lightning stroke the news of +their wedding had fallen on her. And on the very heels of it slunk the +blackmailer with his terrifying bag of secrets. + +Where was she to go? To her husband? It was useless. To Desboro? It was +too late. Even now, perhaps, he was listening scornfully to his young +wife's account of that last interview. She could see the contempt in his +face--contempt for her--for the woman who had lied to avow her own +dishonour. + +Why had he come to see her then? To threaten her? To warn her? To spurn +her? Yet, that was not like Desboro. Why had he come? What she had said +and intimated to Jacqueline was done _after_ the girl was a wife. Could +it be possible that Jacqueline was visiting her anger on Desboro, having +learned too late that which would have prevented her from marrying him +at all? + +Elena crept to the sofa and sank down in a heap, cowering there in one +corner, striving to think. + +What would come of it? Would this proud and chaste young girl, accepting +the acted lie as truth, resent it? By leaving Desboro? By beginning a +suit for divorce--and naming---- + +Elena cringed, stifling a cry of terror. What had she done? Every force +she had evoked was concentrating into one black cloud over her head, +threatening her utter destruction. Everything she had done since that +December night was helping the forces gathering to annihilate her. Even +Desboro, once a refuge, was now part of this tempest about to be +unloosened. + +Truly she had sowed the wind, and the work of her small white hands was +already established upon her. + +Never in her life had she really ever cared for any man. Her caprice for +Desboro, founded on the lesser motives, had been the nearest approach. + +It had cost her all her self-control, all her courage, to play the +diplomat with her husband for the sake of obtaining his consent to keep +the forged porcelains. And after all it had been in vain. + +In spite of her white misery and wretchedness, now, as she sat there in +the drawing-room alone, her cheeks crimsoned hotly at the memory of her +arts and wiles and calineries; of her new shyness with the man she had +never before spared; of her clever attitude toward him, the apparent +dawn of tenderness, the faint provocation in her lifted eyes--God! It +should have been her profession, for she had taken to it like a woman of +the streets--had submitted like one, earning her pay. And, like many, +had been cheated in the end. + +She rose unsteadily, cooling her cheeks in her hands and gazing vacantly +in front of her. + +She had not been well for a few days; had meant to see her physician. +But in the rush of events enveloping her there had been no moment to +think of mere bodily ills. + +Now, dizzy, trembling, and faintly nauseated, she stood supporting her +weight on a gilded chair, closing her eyes for a moment to let the +swimming wretchedness pass. + +It passed after a while, leaving her so utterly miserable that she +leaned over and rang for a maid. + +"Order the car--the Sphex limousine," she said. "And bring me my hat and +furs." + +"Yes, madame." + +"And--my jewel box. Here is the key----" detaching a tiny gold one from +its chain in her bosom. "And if Mr. Clydesdale comes in, say to him that +I have gone to the doctor's." + +"Yes, madame." + +"And--I shall take some jewels to--the safe deposit--one or two pieces +which I don't wear." + +The maid was silent. + +"Do you understand about the--jewels?" + +"Yes, madame." + +She went away. Presently she returned with Elena's hat and furs and +jewel box. The private garage adjoined the house; the car rolled out +before she was ready. + +On the way down town she was afraid she would faint--almost wished she +would. The chauffeur's instructions landed her at a jeweler's where she +was not known. + +A few moments later, in a private office, a grey old gentleman very +gently refused to consider the purchase of any jewelry from her unless +he knew her name, residence, and other essentials which she flatly +declined to give. + +So a polite clerk put her into her car and she directed the chauffeur to +Dr. Allen's office, because she felt really too ill for the moment to +continue her search. Later she would manage to find somebody who would +buy sufficient of her jewelry to give her--and Mr. Waudle--the seven +thousand dollars necessary to avoid exposure. + +Dr. Allen was in--just returned. Only one patient was ahead of her. +Presently she was summoned, rose with an effort, and went in. + +The physician was a very old man; and after he had questioned her for a +few moments he smiled. And at the same instant she began to understand; +got to her feet blindly, stood swaying for a moment, then dropped as he +caught her. + +Neither the physician nor the trained nurse who came in at his summons +seemed to be very greatly worried. As they eased the young wife and +quietly set about reviving her, they chatted carelessly. Later Elena +opened her eyes. Later still the nurse went home with her in her +limousine. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +About midday Clydesdale, who had returned to his house from a morning +visit to his attorney in Liberty Street, was summoned to the telephone. + +"Is that you, Desboro?" he asked. + +"Yes. I stopped this morning to speak to your wife a moment, but very +naturally she was not at home to me at such an hour in the morning. I +have just called her on the telephone, but her maid says she has gone +out." + +"Yes. She is not very well. I understand she has gone to see Dr. Allen. +But she ought to be back pretty soon. Won't you come up to the house, +Desboro?" + +There was a short pause, then Desboro's voice again, in reply: + +"I believe I will come up, Clydesdale. And I think I'll talk to you +instead of to your wife." + +"Just as it suits you. Very glad to see you anyway. I'll be in the rear +extension fussing about among the porcelains." + +"I'll be with you in ten minutes." + + * * * * * + +In less time than that Desboro arrived, and was piloted through the +house and into the gallery by an active maid. At the end of one of the +aisles lined by glass cases, the huge bulk of Cary Clydesdale loomed, +his red face creased with his eternal grin. + +"Hello, Desboro!" he called. "Come this way. I've one or two things here +which will match any of yours at Silverwood, I think." + +And, as Desboro approached, Clydesdale strode forward, offering him an +enormous hand. + +"Glad to see you," he grinned. "Congratulations on your marriage! Fine +girl, that! I don't know any to match her." He waved a comprehensive +arm. "All this stuff is her arrangement. Gad! But I had it rottenly +displayed. And the collection was full of fakes, too. But she came +floating in here one morning, and what she did to my junk-heap was a +plenty, believe _me_!" And the huge fellow grinned and grinned until +Desboro's sombre face altered and became less rigid. + +A maid appeared with a table and a frosted cocktail shaker. + +"You'll stop and lunch with us," said Clydesdale, filling two glasses. +"Elena won't be very long. Don't know just what ails her, but she's +nervous and run down. I guess it's the spring that's coming. Well, +here's to all bad men; they need the boost and we don't. Prosit!" + +He emptied his glass, set it aside, and from the open case beside him +extracted an exquisite jar of the Kang-He, _famille noire_, done in five +colours during the best period of the work. + +"God knows I'm not proud," he said, "but can you beat it, Desboro?" + +Desboro took the beautiful jar, and, carefully guarding the cover, +turned it slowly. Birds, roses, pear blossoms, lilies, exquisite in +composition and colour, passed under his troubled eyes. He caressed the +paste mechanically. + +"It is very fine," he said. + +"Have you anything to beat it?" + +"I don't think so." + +"How are yours marked?" inquired the big man, taking the jar into his +own enormous paws as lovingly as a Kadiak bear embraces her progeny. +"This magnificent damn thing is a forgery. Look! Here's the mark of the +Emperor Ching-hwa! Isn't that the limit? And the forgery is every bit as +fine as the originals made before 1660--only it happened to be the +fashion in China in 1660 to collect Ching-hwa jars, so the maker of this +piece deliberately forged an earlier date. Can you beat it?" + +Desboro smiled as though he were listening; and Clydesdale gingerly +replaced the jar and as carefully produced another. + +"Ming!" he said. "Seventeenth century Manchu Tartar. I've some earlier +Ming ranging between 1400 A.D. and 1600; but it can't touch this, +Desboro. In fact, I think the eighteenth century Ming is even finer; +and, as far as that goes, there is magnificent work being done +now--although the occidental markets seldom see it. But--Ming for mine, +every time! How do _you_ feel about it, old top?" + +Desboro looked at the vase. The soft beauty of the blue underglaze, the +silvery thickets of magnolia bloom amid which a magnificent, +pheasant-hued phoenix stepped daintily, meant at the moment absolutely +nothing to him. + +Nor did the _poudre-bleu_ jar, triumphantly exhibited by the infatuated +owner--a splendid specimen painted on the overglaze. And the weeds and +shells and fiery golden fishes swimming had been dimmed a little by +rubbing, so that the dusky aquatic depths loomed more convincingly. + +"Clydesdale," said Desboro in a low voice, "I want to say one or two +things to you. Another time it would give me pleasure to go over these +porcelains with you. Do you mind my interrupting you?" + +The big man grinned. + +"Shoot," he said, replacing the "powder-blue" and carefully closing and +locking the case. Then, dropping the keys into his pocket, he came over +to where Desboro was seated beside the flimsy folding card-table, shook +the cocktail shaker, offered to fill Desboro's glass, and at a gesture +of refusal refilled his own. + +"This won't do a thing to my appetite," he remarked genially. "Go ahead, +Desboro." And he settled himself to listen, with occasional furtive, +sidelong glances at his beloved porcelains. + +Desboro said: "Clydesdale, you and I have known each other for a number +of years. We haven't seen much of each other, except at the club, or +meeting casually here and there. It merely happened so; if accident had +thrown us together, the chances are that we would have liked each +other--perhaps sought each other's company now and then--as much as men +do in this haphazard town, anyway. Don't you think so?" + +Clydesdale nodded. + +"But we have been on perfectly friendly terms, always--with one +exception," said Desboro. + +"Yes--with one exception. But that is all over now----" + +"I am afraid it isn't." + +Clydesdale's grin remained unaltered when he said: "Well, what the +hell----" and stopped abruptly. + +"It's about that one exception of which I wish to speak," continued +Desboro, after a moment's thought. "I don't want to say very much--just +one or two things which I hope you already know and believe. And all I +have to say is this, Clydesdale; whatever I may have been--whatever I +may be now, that sort of treachery is not in me. I make no merit of +it--it may be mere fastidiousness on my part which would prevent me from +meditating treachery toward an acquaintance or a friend." + +Clydesdale scrutinised him in silence. + +"Never, since Elena was your wife, have I thought of her except as your +wife." + +Clydesdale only grinned. + +"I want to be as clear as I can on this subject," continued the other, +"because--and I must say it to you--there have been rumours +concerning--me." + +"And concerning _her_," said Clydesdale simply. "Don't blink matters, +Desboro." + +"No, I won't. The rumours have included her, of course. But what those +rumours hint, Clydesdale, is an absolute lie. I blame myself in a +measure; I should not have come here so often--should not have continued +to see Elena so informally. I _was_ in love with her once; I did ask her +to marry me. She took you. Try to believe me, Clydesdale, when I tell +you that though for me there did still linger about her that +inexplicable charm which attracted me, which makes your wife so +attractive to everybody, never for a moment did it occur to me not to +acquiesce in the finality of her choice. Never did I meditate any wrong +toward you or toward her. I _did_ dangle. That was where I blame +myself. Because where a better man might have done it uncriticised, I +was, it seems, open to suspicion." + +"You're no worse than the next," said Clydesdale in a deep growl. +"Hell's bells! I don't blame _you_! And there would have been nothing to +it anyway if Elena had not lost her head that night and bolted. I was +rough with you all right; but you behaved handsomely; and I knew where +the trouble was. Because, Desboro, my wife dislikes me." + +"I thought----" + +"No! Let's have the truth, damn it! _That's_ the truth! My wife dislikes +me. It may be that she is crazy about you; I don't know. But I am +inclined to think--after these months of hell, Desboro--that she really +is not crazy about you, or about any man; that it is only her dislike of +me that possesses her to--to deal with me as she has done." + +He was still grinning, but his heavy lower lip twitched, and suddenly +the horror of it broke on Desboro--that this great, gross, red-faced +creature was suffering in every atom of his unwieldy bulk; that the +fixed grin was covering anguish; that the man's heart was breaking +there, now, where he sat, the _rictus mortis_ stamped on his quivering +face. + +"Clydesdale," he said, unsteadily, "I came here meaning to say only what +I have said--that you never had anything to doubt in me--but that +rumours still coupled my name with Elena's. That was all I meant to say. +But I'll say more. I'm sorry that things are not going well with you and +Elena. I would do anything in the world that lay within my power to help +make yours a happy marriage. But--marriages all seem to go wrong. For +years--witnessing what I have--what everybody among our sort of people +cannot choose but witness--I made up my mind that marriage was no good." + +He passed his hand slowly over his eyes; waited a moment, then: + +"But I was wrong. That's what the matter is--that is how the matter lies +between the sort of people we are and marriage. It is _we_ who are +wrong; there's nothing wrong about marriage, absolutely nothing. Only +many of us are not fit for it. And some of us take it as a preventive, +as a moral medicine--as though anybody could endure an eternal dosing! +And some of us seek it as a refuge--a refuge from every ill, every +discomfort, every annoyance and apprehension that assails the human +race--as though the institution of marriage were a vast and fortified +storehouse in which everything we have ever lacked and desired were +lying about loose for us to pick up and pocket." + +He bent forward across the table and began to play absently with his +empty glass. + +"Marriage is all right," he said. "But only those fit to enter possess +the keys to the magic institution. And they find there what they +expected. The rest of us jimmy our way in, and find ourselves in an +empty mansion, Clydesdale." + +For a long while they sat there in silence; Desboro fiddling with his +empty glass, the other, motionless, his ponderous hands clasped on his +knees. At length, Desboro spoke again: "I do not know how it is with +you, but I am not escaping anything that I have ever done." + +"I'm getting mine," said Clydesdale heavily. + +After a few moments, what Desboro had said filtered into his brain; and +he turned and looked at the younger man. + +"Have these rumours----" he began. And Desboro nodded: + +"These rumours--or others. _These_ happen not to have been true." + +"That's tough on _her_," said Clydesdale gravely. + +"That's where it is toughest on us. I think we could stand anything +except that _they_ should suffer through us. And the horrible part of it +is that we never meant to--never dreamed that we should ever be held +responsible for the days we lived so lightly--gay, careless, +irresponsible days--God! Is there any punishment to compare with it, +Clydesdale?" + +"None." + +Desboro rose and stood with his hand across his forehead, as though it +ached. + +[Illustration: "'Jacqueline--my wife--is the result of a different +training'"] + +"You and Elena and I are products of the same kind of civilisation. +Jacqueline--my wife--is the result of a different training in a very +different civilisation." + +"And the rottenness of ours is making her ill." + +Desboro nodded. After a moment he stirred restlessly. + +"Well," he said, "I must go to the office. I haven't been there yet." + +Clydesdale got onto his feet. + +"Won't you stay?" + +"No." + +"As you wish. And--I'm sorry, Desboro. However, you have a better chance +than I--to make good. My wife--dislikes me." + +He went as far as the door with his guest, and when Desboro had departed +he wandered aimlessly back into the house and ultimately found himself +among his porcelains once more--his only refuge from a grief and care +that never ceased, never even for a moment eased those massive shoulders +of their dreadful weight. + +From where he stood, he heard the doorbell sounding distantly. Doubtless +his wife had returned. Doubtless, too, as long as there was no guest, +Elena would prefer to lunch alone in her own quarters, unless she had an +engagement to lunch at the Ritz or elsewhere. + +He had no illusion that she desired to see him, or that she cared +whether or not he inquired what her physician had said; but he closed +and locked his glass cases once more and walked heavily into the main +body of the house and descended to the door. + +To the man on duty there he said: "Did Mrs. Clydesdale come in?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Thank you." + +He hesitated, turned irresolutely, and remounted the stairs. To a maid +passing he said: + +"Is Mrs. Clydesdale lunching at home?" + +"Yes, sir. Mrs. Clydesdale is not well, sir." + +"Has she gone to her room?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Please go to her and say that I am sorry and--and inquire if there is +anything I can do." + +The maid departed and the master of the house wandered into the +music-room--perhaps because Elena's tall, gilded harp was there--the +only thing in the place that ever reminded him of her, or held for him +anything of her personality. + +[Illustration: "In the rose dusk of the drawn curtains, he stood beside +it"] + +Now, in the rose dusk of the drawn curtains, he stood beside it, not +touching it--never dreaming of touching it without permission, any more +than he would have touched his wife. + +Somebody knocked; he turned, and the maid came forward. + +"Mrs. Clydesdale desires to see you, sir." + +He stared for a second, then his heart beat heavily with alarm. + +"Where is Mrs. Clydesdale?" + +"In her bedroom, sir." + +"Unwell?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"In _bed_?" + +"I think so, sir. Mrs. Clydesdale's maid spoke to me." + +"Very well. Thank you." + +He went out and mounted the stairs, striding up silently to the hall +above, where his wife's maid quietly opened the door for him, then went +away to her own little chintz-lined den. + +Elena was lying on her bed in a frilly, lacy, clinging thing of rose +tint. The silk curtains had been drawn, but squares of sunlight +quartered them, turning the dusk of the pretty room to a golden gloom. + +She opened her eyes and looked up at him as he advanced. + +"I'm terribly sorry," he said; and his heavy voice shook in spite of +him. + +She motioned toward the only armchair--an ivory-covered affair, the cane +bottom covered by a rose cushion. + +"Bring it here--nearer," she said. + +He did so, and seated himself beside the bed cautiously. + +She lay silent after that; once or twice she pressed the palms of both +hands over her eyes as though they pained her, but when he ventured to +inquire, she shook her head. It was only when he spoke of calling up Dr. +Allen again that she detained him in his chair with a gesture: + +"Wait! I've got to tell you something! I don't know what you will +do about it. You've had trouble enough--with me. But this +is--is--unspeakable----" + +"What on earth is the matter? Aren't you ill?" he began. + +"Yes; that, too. But--there is something else. I thought it had made me +ill--but----" She began to shiver, and he laid his hand on hers and +found it burning. + +"I tell you Allen ought to come at once----" he began again. + +"No, no, no! You don't know what you're talking about. I--I'm +frightened--that's what is the matter! That's one of the things that's +the matter. Wait a moment. I'll tell you. I'll _have_ to tell you, now. +I suppose you'll--divorce me." + +There was a silence; then: + +"Go on," he said, in his heavy, hopeless voice. + +She moistened her lips with her tongue: + +"It's--my fault. I--I did not care for you--that is how it--began. No; +it began before that--before I knew you. And there were two men. You +remember them. They were the rage with our sort--like other fads, for a +while--such as marmosets, and--things. One of these things was the poet, +Orrin Munger. He called himself a Cubist--whatever that may be. The +other was the writer, Adalbert Waudle." + +Clydesdale's grin was terrible. + +"No," she said wearily, "I was only a more venturesome fool than other +women who petted them--nothing worse. They went about kissing women's +hands and reading verses to them. Some women let them have the run of +their boudoirs--like any poodle. Then there came that literary and +semi-bohemian bal-masque in Philadelphia. It was the day before the +Assembly. I was going on for that, but mother wouldn't let me go on away +earlier for the bal-masque. So--I went." + +"What?" + +"I lied. I pretended to be stopping with the Hammertons in Westchester. +And I bribed my maid to lie, too. But I went." + +"Alone?" + +"No. Waudle went with me." + +"Good God, Elena!" + +"I know. I was simply insane. I went with him to that ball and +left before the unmasking. Nobody knew me. So I went to the +Bellevue-Stratford for the night. I--I never dreamed that _he_ would go +there, too." + +"Did he?" + +"Yes. He had the rooms adjoining. I only knew it when--when I awoke in +the dark and heard him tapping on the door and calling in that thick, +soft voice----" She shuddered and clenched her hands, closing her +feverish eyes for a moment. + +Her husband stared at her, motionless in his chair. + +She unclosed her eyes wearily: "That was all--except--the other one--the +little one with the frizzy hair--Munger. He saw me there. He knew that +Waudle had the adjoining rooms. So then, very early, I came back to New +York, badly scared, and met my maid at the station and pretended to +mother that I had just arrived from Westchester. And that night I went +back to the Assembly. But--ever since that night I--I have been--paying +money to Adalbert Waudle. Not much before I married you, because I had +very little to pay. But all my allowance has gone that way--and +now--now he wants more. And I haven't it. And I'm sick----" + +The terrible expression on her husband's face frightened her, and, for a +moment, she faltered. But there was more to tell, and she must tell it +though his unchained wrath destroy her. + +"You'll have to wait until I finish," she muttered. "There's more--and +worse. Because he came here the night I--went to Silverwood. He saw me +leave the house; he unsealed and read the note I left on the library +table for you. He knows what I said--about Jim Desboro. He knows I went +to him. And he is trying to make me pay him--to keep it out of the--the +_Tattler_." + +Clydesdale's congested face was awful; she looked into it, thought that +she read her doom. But the courage of despair forced her on. + +"There is worse--far worse," she said with dry lips. "I had no money to +give; he wished to keep the seven thousand which was his share of what +you paid for the forged porcelains. He came to me and made me understand +that if you insisted on his returning that money he would write me up +for the _Tattler_ and disgrace me so that you would divorce me. I--I +must be honest with you at such a time as this, Cary. I wouldn't have +cared if--if Jim Desboro would have married me afterward. But he had +ceased to care for me. He--was in love with--Miss Nevers; or she was +with him. And I disliked her. But--I was low enough to go to her in my +dire extremity and--and ask her to pronounce those forged porcelains +genuine--so that you would keep them. And I did it--meaning to bribe +her." + +Clydesdale's expression was frightful. + +"Yes--I did this thing. And worse. I--I wish you'd kill me after I tell +you! I--something she said--in the midst of my anguish and +terror--something about Jim Desboro, I think--I am not sure--seemed to +drive me insane. And she was married to him all the while, and I didn't +know it. And--to drive her away from him, I--I made her understand +that--that I was--his--mistress----" + +"Good God!" + +"Wait--for God's sake, wait! I don't care what you do to me afterward. +Only--only tell that woman I wasn't--tell her I never was. Promise me +that, whatever you are going to do to me--promise me you'll tell her +that I never was any man's mistress! Because--because--I am--ill. And +they say--Dr. Allen says I--I am going to--to have a baby." + +The man reared upright and stood swaying there, ashy faced, his visage +distorted. Suddenly the features were flooded with rushing crimson; he +dropped on his knees and caught her in his arms with a groan; and she +shut her eyes, thinking the world was ending. + +After a long while she opened them, still half stunned with terror; saw +his quivering lips resting on her tightly locked hands; stared for a +while, striving to comprehend his wet face and his caress. + +And, after a while, timidly, uncertainly, wondering, she ventured to +withdraw one hand, still watching him with fascinated eyes. + +She had always feared him physically--feared his bulk, and his massive +strength, and his grin. Otherwise, she had held him in intellectual +contempt. + +Very cautiously, very gently, she withdrew her hand, watching him all +the while. He had not annihilated her. What did he mean to do with this +woman who had hated him and who now was about to disgrace him? What did +he mean to do? What was he doing now--with his lips quivering against +her other hand, all wet with his tears? + +"Cary?" she said. + +He lifted a passion-marred visage; and there seemed for a moment +something noble in the high poise of his ugly head. And, without knowing +what she was doing, or why, she slowly lifted her free hand and let it +rest lightly on his massive shoulder. And, as she looked into his eyes, +a strange expression began to dawn in her own--and it became stranger +and stranger--something he had never before seen there--something so +bewildering, so wonderful, that his heart seemed to cease. + +Suddenly her eyes filled and her face flushed from throat to hair and +the next instant she swayed forward, was caught, and crushed to his +breast. + +"Oh!" she wept ceaselessly. "Oh, oh, Cary! I didn't know--I didn't know. +I--I want to be a--a good mother. I'll try to be better; I'll try to be +better. You are so good--you are so good to me--so kind--so kind--to +protect me--after what I've done--after what I've done!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Desboro passed a miserable afternoon at the office. If there had been +any business to take his mind off himself it might have been easier for +him; but for a long time now there had been nothing stirring in Wall +Street; the public kept away; business was dead. + +After hours he went to the club, feeling physically wretched. Man after +man came up and congratulated him on his marriage--some whom he knew +scarcely more intimately than to bow to, spoke to him. He was a very +great favourite. + +In the beginning, it was merely a stimulant that he thought he needed; +later he declined no suggestion, and even made a few, with an eye on the +clock. For at five he was to meet Jacqueline. + +Toward five his demeanour had altered to that gravely urbane and too +courteous manner indicative of excess; and his flushed face had become +white and tense. + +Cairns found him in the card room at six, saw at a glance how matters +stood with him, and drew him into a corner of the window with scant +ceremony. + +"What's the matter with you?" he said sharply. "You told me that you +were to meet your wife at five!" + +Desboro's manner became impressively courteous. + +"Inadvertently," he said, "I have somehow or other mislaid the clock. +Once it stood somewhere in this vicinity, but----" + +"Damn it! There it is! Look at it!" + +Desboro looked gravely in the direction where Cairns was pointing. + +"That undoubtedly _is_ a clock," he said. "But now a far more serious +problem confronts us, John. Having located a clock with a certain amount +of accuracy, what is the next step to take in finding out the exact +time?" + +"Don't you know how to tell the time?" demanded Cairns, furious. + +"Pardon. I know how to _tell_ it, provided I once know what it is----" + +"Are you drunk?" + +"I have never," said Desboro, courteously, "experienced intoxication. At +present I am perfectly cognisant of contemporary events now passing in +my immediate vicinity----" + +"Where were you to meet your wife?" + +"At the depository of her multitudinous and intricate affairs of +business--in other words, at her office, dear friend." + +"You can't go to her this way." + +"It were unwise, perhaps," said Desboro, pleasantly. + +Cairns gripped his arm: "You go to the baths; do you hear? Tell Louis to +massage the edge off you. I'm going to speak to your wife." + +So Desboro sauntered off toward the elevator and Cairns called up +Jacqueline's office. + +It appeared that Jacqueline had left. Should they switch him on to her +private apartments above? + +In a moment his call was answered. + +"Is this Mrs. Desboro?" he asked. And at the same instant recognised +Cynthia Lessler's voice. + +She returned his greeting briefly. + +"Jacqueline thought that perhaps she had misunderstood Mr. Desboro, so +she has gone to the station. Did he go there?" + +"N--no. He had an appointment and----" + +"Where?" + +"At the club--the Olympian Club----" + +"Is he there?" + +"Yes----" + +"Then tell him to go at once to the station, or he will miss his wife +and the 6:15 train, too!" + +"I--he--Jim isn't feeling very well----" + +"Is he _ill_!" + +"N--no. Oh, no! He's merely tired--over-worked----" + +"What!" + +"Oh, he's just taking a cold plunge and a rub-down----" + +"Mr. Cairns!" + +"Yes." + +"Take a taxi and come here before Jacqueline returns." + +"Did you wish----" + +"Yes. How soon can you get here?" + +"Five minutes." + +"I'll wait." + +"A rotten piece of business," muttered Cairns, taking hat and stick from +the cloak room. + +The starter had a taxi ready. Except for the usual block on Fifth +Avenue, they would have made it in four minutes. It took them ten. + +Cynthia met him on the landing and silently ushered him into +Jacqueline's pretty little parlour. She still wore her hat and coat; a +fur boa lay on a sofa. + +[Illustration: "'Now,' she said, leaning forward ... 'what is the +meaning of this?'"] + +"Now," she said, leaning forward in her chair as soon as he was seated, +"what is the meaning of this?" + +"Of what?" he asked, pretending mild surprise. + +"Of Mr. Desboro's behaviour! He was married yesterday to the dearest, +sweetest, loveliest girl in the world. To-day, I stop at her office to +see her--and I find that she is unhappy. She couldn't hide it from _me_! +I _love_ her! And all her smiles and forced gaiety and clever +maneuvering were terrible to me--heart-breaking. She is dreadfully +unhappy. Why?" + +"I didn't know it," said Cairns honestly. + +"Is that true?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Very well. But you know why he didn't meet Jacqueline at five, don't +you?" + +He looked at her miserably: "Yes, I know. I wouldn't let him." + +"Is he intoxicated?" + +"No. He has had more than he should have." + +"What a cur!" she said between her teeth. + +Cairns bit his lip and nervously twirled his walking stick. + +"See here, Cynthia, Jim isn't a cur, you know." + +"What do _you_ call a man who has done what he's done?" + +"I--I tell you it has me guessing. Because it isn't like Jim Desboro. +He's never that way--not once in years. Only when he's up against it +does he ever do that. And he's perfectly mad about his wife. Don't make +any mistake there; he's dead in love with her--crazy about her. But--he +came into the office about one to-day, looking like the deuce--so +changed, so white, so 'all in,' that I thought he had the grippe or +something." + +Cynthia said: "They've had a quarrel. Oh, what is it--what could it be, +Jack? You know it will break her heart. It's breaking mine now. I can't +bear it--I simply can't----" + +"Haven't the least idea what's wrong," said Cairns, leaning forward, +elbows on his knees, and beating the hearth with his walking stick. + +"Can't Mr. Desboro come here pretty soon?" + +"Oh, yes, I think so. I'll go back and look him over----" + +Cynthia's eyes suddenly glistened with tears, and she bowed her head. + +"My dear child," expostulated Cairns, "it's nothing to weep over. It's +a--one of those things likely to happen to any man----" + +"But I can't bear to have it happen to Jacqueline's husband. Oh, I wish +she had never seen him, never heard of him! He is a thousand, thousand +miles beneath her. He isn't worth----" + +"For heaven's sake, Cynthia, don't think that!" + +"_Think_ it! I _know_ it! Of what value is that sort of man compared to +a girl like Jacqueline! Of what use is that sort of man anyway! I know +them," she said bitterly, "I've had my lesson in that school. One and +all, young and old, rich or poor--_comparatively_ poor--they are the +same. The same ideas haunt their idle and selfish minds, the same +motives move them, the same impulses rule them, and they reason with +their emotions, not with their brains. Arrogant, insolent, +condescending, self-centred, self-indulgent, and utterly predatory! That +is the type! And they _belong_ where people prey upon one another, not +among the clean and sweet and innocent. They belong where there is no +question of marriage or of home or of duty; they belong where lights are +many and brilliant, where there is money, and plenty of it! Where there +is noise, and too much of it! That is where that sort of man belongs. +And nobody knows it as well as such a girl as I! Nobody, _nobody_!" Her +lip quivered and she choked back the tears. + +"And--and now--such a man has taken my little friend--my little +girl--Jacqueline----" + +"Do you think he's as rotten as what you say?" + +"Yes. _Yes!_" + +"Then--what must you think of me?" + +She glanced up, blotting her wet lashes with her handkerchief. + +"What do you mean, Jack?" + +"I suppose I'm included among the sort of men you have been so +graphically describing?" + +She did not answer. + +"Am I not included?" + +She shook her head slightly. + +"Why not? If your description fits Jim Desboro and Reggie Ledyard, and +that set, it must naturally fit me, also." + +But she shook her head almost imperceptibly. + +"Why do you exclude me, Cynthia?" + +But she had nothing to say about him. Long ago--long, long since, she +had made excuses for all that he should have been and was not. It was +not a matter for discussion; she and her heart had settled it between +them without calling in Logic as umpire, and without recourse to Reason +for an opinion. + +"The worst of it is," he said, rising and picking up his hat, "some of +your general description does fit me." + +"I--did not mean it that way----" + +"But it does fit, Cynthia; doesn't it?" + +"No." + +"What!" incredulously. + +She said in a low voice: "You were very kind to me, Jack; and--not like +other men. Do you think I can ever forget that?" + +He forced a laugh: "Great actresses are expected to forget things. +Besides, there isn't anything to remember--except that--we were +friends." + +"_Real_ friends. I know it now. Because the world is full of the other +kind. But a _real_ friend does not--destroy. Good-bye." + +"Shall I see you again?" he asked, troubled. + +"If you wish. I gave you my address yesterday." + +"Will you really be at home to me, Cynthia?" + +"Try," she said, unsmiling. + +She went to the landing with him. + +"Will you see that Mr. Desboro comes here as soon as he is--fit?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well. I'll tell Jacqueline he was not feeling well and fell asleep +at the club. It's one of those lies that may be forgiven--" she shrugged +"--but anyway I'll risk it." + +So he went away, and she watched his departure, standing by the old-time +stair-well until she heard the lower door clang. Then, grieved and +angry, she seated herself and nervously awaited Jacqueline's +reappearance. + +The girl returned ten minutes later, pale and plainly worried, but +carrying it off lightly enough. + +"Cynthia!" she exclaimed, smilingly. "_Where_ do you suppose that +husband of mine can be! He isn't at the station. I boarded the train, +but he was not on it! Isn't it odd? I--I don't suppose anything could +have happened to him--any accident--because the motor drivers are so +reckless----" + +"You darling thing!" laughed Cynthia. "Your young man is perfectly +safe----" + +"Oh, of course I--I believe so----" + +"He _is_! He's at his club." + +"What!" + +"It's perfectly simple," said Cynthia coolly, "he went there from his +office, feeling a bit under the weather----" + +"Is he _ill_?" + +"No, no! He was merely tired, I believe. And he stretched out and fell +asleep and failed to wake up. That's all." + +Jacqueline looked at her in relieved astonishment for a moment. + +"Did he telephone?" + +"Yes--or rather, Mr. Cairns did----" + +"Mr. Cairns! Why did Mr. Cairns telephone? Why didn't my husband +telephone? Cynthia--look at me!" + +Cynthia met her eye undaunted. + +"Why," repeated Jacqueline, "didn't my husband telephone to me? Is he +too ill? Is _that_ it? Are you concealing it? _Are_ you, Cynthia?" + +Cynthia smiled: "He's a casual young man, darling. I believe he's taking +a cold plunge or something. He'll probably be here in a few minutes. So +I'll say good-night." She picked up her fur neckpiece, glanced at the +mirror, fluffed a curl or two, and turned to Jacqueline. "Don't spoil +him, ducky," she whispered, putting her hands on the young wife's +shoulders and looking her deep in the eyes. + +Jacqueline flushed painfully. + +"How do you mean, Cynthia?" + +The latter said: "There are a million ways of spoiling a man beside +giving up to him." + +"I don't give up to him," said Jacqueline in a colourless voice. + +Cynthia looked at her gravely: + +"It's hard to know what to do, dear. When a girl gives up to a man she +spoils him sometimes; when she doesn't she sometimes spoils him. It's +hard to know what to do--very hard." + +Jacqueline's gaze grew troubled and remote. + +"How to love a man wisely--that's a very hard thing for a girl to +learn," murmured Cynthia. "But--the main thing--the important thing, is +to love him, I think. And I suppose we have to take our chances of +spoiling him." + +"The main thing," said Jacqueline slowly, "is that he should know you +_do_ love him; isn't it?" + +"Yes. But the problem is, how best to show it. And that requires wisdom, +dear. And where is a girl to acquire that kind of wisdom? What +experience has she? What does she know? Ah, we _don't_ know. There lies +the trouble. By instinct, disposition, natural reticence, and training, +we are disposed to offer too little, perhaps; But often, in fear that +our reticence may not be understood, we offer too much." + +"I--am afraid of that." + +"Of offering too much?" + +"Yes." + +They stood, thoughtful a moment, not looking at each other. + +Cynthia said in a low voice: "Be careful of him, ducky. His is not the +stronger character. Perhaps he needs more than you give." + +"What!" + +"I--I think that perhaps he is not the kind of man to be spoiled by +giving. And--it is possible to starve some men by the well-meant +kindness of reserve." + +"All women--modest women--are reserved." + +"Is a mother's reserve praiseworthy when her child comes to her for +intimate companionship--for tenderness perhaps--and puts its little arms +around her neck?" + +Jacqueline stared, then blushed furiously. + +"Why do you suppose that I am likely to be lacking in sympathy, +Cynthia?" + +"You are not. I know you too well, ducky. But you might easily be +exquisitely undemonstrative." + +"All women--are--undemonstrative." + +"Not always." + +"An honest, chaste----" + +"No." + +Jacqueline, deeply flushed, began in a low voice: + +"To discourage the lesser emotions----" + +"No! To separate them, class them as lesser, makes them so. They are +merely atoms in the molecule--a tiny fragment of perfection. To be too +conscious of them makes them too important; to accept them with the +rest as part of the ensemble is the only way." + +"Cynthia!" + +"Yes, dear." + +"Who has been educating you to talk this way?" + +"Necessity. There is no real room for ignorance in my profession. So I +don't go to parties any more; I try to educate myself. There are +cultivated people in the company. They have been very kind to me. And my +carelessness in English--my lack of polish--these were not inherited. My +father was an educated man, if he was nothing else. You know that. Your +father knew it. All I needed was to be awakened. And I am awake." + +She looked honestly into the honest eyes that met hers, and shook her +head. + +"No self-deception can aid us to lie down to pleasant dreams, +Jacqueline. And the most terrible of all deceptions is +self-righteousness. Let me know myself, and I can help myself. And I +know now how it would be with me if the happiness of marriage ever came +to me. I would give--give everything good in me, everything +needed--strip myself of my best! Because, dear, we always have more to +give than they; and they need it all--all we can give them--every one." + +After a silence they kissed each other; and, when Cynthia had departed, +Jacqueline closed the door and returned to her chair. Seated there in +deep and unhappy thought, while the slow minutes passed without him, +little by little her uneasiness returned. + +Eight o'clock rang from her little mantel clock. She started up and went +to the window. The street lamps were shining over pavements and +sidewalks deserted. Very far in the west she could catch the low roar +of Broadway, endless, accentless, monotonous, interrupted only by the +whiz of motors on Fifth Avenue. Now and then a wayfarer passed through +the silent street below; rarely a taxicab; but neither wayfarer nor +vehicle stopped at her door. + +She did not realise how long she had been standing there, when from +behind the mantel clock startled her again, ringing out nine. She came +back into the centre of the room, and, hands clasped, stared at the +dial. + +She had not eaten since morning; there had been no opportunity in the +press of accumulated business. She felt a trifle faint, mostly from a +vague anxiety. She did not wish to call up the club; instinct forbade +it; but at a quarter to ten she went to the telephone, and learned that +Desboro had gone out between eight and nine. Then she asked for Cairns, +and found that he also had gone away. + +Sick at heart she hung up the receiver, turned aimlessly into the room +again, and stood there, staring at the clock. + +What had happened to her husband? What did it mean? Had she anything to +do with his strange conduct? In her deep trouble and perplexity--still +bewildered by the terrible hurt she had received--had her aloofness, her +sadness, impossible to disguise, wounded him so deeply that he had +already turned away from her? + +She had meant only kindness to him--was seeking only her own +convalescence, desperately determined to love and to hold this man. +Hadn't he understood it? Could he not give her time to recover? How +could he expect more of her--a bride, confronted in the very first +hours of her wedded life by her husband's self-avowed mistress! + +She stood, hesitating, clenching and unclenching her white and slender +hands, striving to think, succeeding only in enduring, until endurance +itself was rapidly becoming impossible. + +Why was he hurting her so? Why? _Why?_ Yet, never once was her anger +aroused against this man. Somehow, he was not responsible. He was a man +as God made him--one in the endless universe of men--the _only_ one in +that limitless host existing for her. He was hers--the best of him and +the worst. And the worst was to be forgiven and protected, and the best +was to thank God for. + +She knew fear--the anxious solicitude that mothers know, awaiting the +return of an errant child. She knew pain--the hurt dismay of a soul, +deep wounded by its fellow, feeling a fresher and newer wound with every +dragging second. + +Her servant came, asking in an awed whisper whether her mistress would +not eat something. + +Jacqueline's proud little head went up. + +"Mr. Desboro has been detained unexpectedly. I will ring for you when he +comes." + +But at midnight she rang, saying that she required nothing further, and +that the maid could retire after unhooking her gown. + +Now, in her loosened chamber-robe, she sat before the dresser combing +out the thick, lustrous hair clustering in masses of gold around her +white face and shoulders. + +She scarcely knew what she was about--knew not at all what she was +going to do with the rest of the night. + +Her hair done, she lay back limply in her chintz armchair, haunted eyes +fixed on the clock; and, after staring became unendurable, she picked up +a book and opened it mechanically. It was Grenville, on Spanish Armour. +Suddenly she remembered sitting here before with this same volume on her +knees, the rain beating against the windows, a bright fire in the +grate--and Fate at her elbow, bending in the firelight beside her as one +by one she turned the illuminated pages, only to encounter under every +jeweled helmet Desboro's smiling eyes. And, as her fingers crisped on +the pages at the memory, it seemed to her at one moment that it had all +taken place many, many years ago; and, in the next moment, that it had +happened only yesterday. + +How young she had been then--never having known sorrow except when her +father died. And that sorrow was different; there was nothing in it +hopeless or terrifying, believing, as she believed, in the soul's +survival; nothing to pain, wound, menace her, or to awake in depths +unsounded a hell of dreadful apprehension. + +How young she had been when last she sat here with this well-worn volume +on her knees! + +Nothing of love had she ever known, only the affection of a child for +her father. But--now she knew. The torture of every throbbing minute was +enlightening her. + +Her hands, tightly clasped together, rested on the pages of the open +book; and she was staring at nothing when, without warning, the doorbell +rang. + +She rose straight up and pressed her left hand to her side, pale lips +parted, listening; then she sprang to the door, opened it, pulled the +handle controlling the wire which lifted the street-door latch. Far +below in the darkness she heard the click, click, click of the latch, +the opening and closing of the door, steps across the hall on the +stairs, mounting nearer and nearer. And when she knew that it was he she +left the door open and returned to her armchair and lay back almost +stifled by the beating of her heart. But when the shaft of light across +the corridor fell on him and he stood on her threshold, her heart almost +stopped beating. His face was drawn and pinched and colourless; his eyes +were strange, his very presence seemed curiously unfamiliar--more so +still when he forced a smile and bent over her, lifting her limp fingers +to his lips. + +"What has been the matter, Jim?" she tried to say, but her voice almost +broke. + +He closed the door and stood looking around him for a moment. Then, with +a glance at her, and with just that shade of deference toward her which +he never lost, he seated himself. + +"The matter is," he said quietly, "that I drank to excess at the club +and was not fit to keep my appointment with you." + +"What!" she said faintly. + +"That was it, Jacqueline. Cairns did his best for us both. But--I knew +it would be for the last time; I knew you would never again have to +endure such things from me." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Just what I have said, Jacqueline. You won't have it to endure again. +But I had to have time to recover my senses and think it out. That is +why I didn't come before. So I let Cairns believe I was coming here." + +"Where did you go?" + +"To my rooms. I had to face it; I had to think it all over before I came +here. I would have telephoned you, but you could not have understood. +What time is it?" + +"Two o'clock." + +"I'm sorry. I won't keep you long----" + +"What do you mean? Where are you going?" + +"To my rooms, I suppose. I merely came here to tell you what is the only +thing for us to do. You know it already. I have just realised it." + +"I don't understand what----" + +"Oh, yes, you do, Jacqueline. You now have no illusions left concerning +me. Nor have I any left concerning what I am and what I have done. +Curious," he added very quietly, "that people had to tell me what I am +and what I have done to you before I could understand it." + +"What have you--done--to me?" + +"Married you. And within that very hour, almost, brought sorrow and +shame on you. Oh, the magic mirror has been held up to me to-day, +Jacqueline; and in it everything I have done to you since the moment I +first saw you has been reflected there in its real colours. + +"I stepped across the straight, clean pathway of your life, telling +myself the lie that I had no intentions of any sort concerning you. And, +as time passed, however indefinite my motives, they became at least +vaguely sinister. You were aware of this; I pretended not to be. And at +last you--you saved me the infamy of self-revelation by speaking as you +did. You engaged yourself to marry me. And I let you. And, not daring to +let you stand the test which an announcement of our engagement would +surely mean, and fearing to lose you, dreading to see you turn against +me, I was cowardly enough to marry you as I did, and trust that love and +devotion would hold you." + +He leaned forward in his chair and shook his head. + +"No use," he said quietly. "Love and devotion never become a coward. +Both mean nothing unless based on honesty. And I was dishonest with you. +I should have told you I was afraid that what might be said to you about +me would alter you toward me. I should have told you that I dared not +stand the test. But all I said to you was that it was better for us to +marry as we did. And you trusted me." + +Her pale, fascinated face never moved, nor did her eyes leave his for a +second. He sustained her gaze gravely, and with a drawn composure that +seemed akin to dignity. + +"I came here to tell you this," he said, "to admit that I cheated you, +cheated the world out of you, robbed you of your independence under +false pretenses, married you as I did because I was afraid I'd lose you +otherwise. My justification was that I loved you--as though that could +excuse anything. Only could I be excused for marrying you if our +engagement had been openly announced and you had found it in you to +withstand and forgive whatever ill you heard of me. But I did not give +you that chance. I married you. And within that very hour you learned +something--whatever it was--that changed you utterly toward me, and is +threatening to ruin your happiness--to annihilate within you the very +joy of living." + +He shook his head again, slowly. + +"That won't do, Jacqueline. Happiness is as much your right as is life +itself. The world has a right to you, too; because you have lived nobly, +and your work has been for the betterment of things. Whoever knows you +honours you and loves you. It is such a woman as you who is of +importance in the world. Men and women are better for you. You are +needed. While I----" + +He made a quick gesture; his lip trembled, but he smiled. + +"So," he said, "I have thought it all out--there alone in my rooms +to-night. There will be no more trouble, no anxiety for you. I'll step +out of your life very quietly, Jacqueline, without any stir or fuss or +any inconvenience to you, more than waiting for my continued absence to +become flagrant and permanent enough to satisfy the legal requirements. +And in a little while you will have your liberty again; the liberty and, +very soon, the tranquillity of mind and the happiness out of which I +have managed to swindle you." + +She had been seated motionless, leaning forward in her chair to listen. +After a few moments of silence which followed, the constraint of her +attitude suddenly weakened her, and she slowly sank back into the depths +of her big chair. + +"And that," she said aloud to herself, "is what he has come here to tell +me." + +"Yes, Jacqueline." + +She turned her head toward him, her cheek resting flat against the +upholstered chintz back. + +"One thing you have not told me, Jim." + +"What is that?" he asked in a strained voice. + +"How I am to live without you." + +There was a silence. When his self-control seemed assured once more, he +said: + +"Do you mean that the damage I have done is irreparable?" + +"What you have done cannot be undone. You have made me--love you." Her +lip trembled in a pitiful attempt to smile. "Are you, after all, about +to send me forth 'between tall avenues of spears, to die?'" + +"Do you still think you care for such a man as I am?" he said hoarsely. + +She nodded: + +"And if you leave me it will be the same, Jim. Wherever you are--living +alone or married to another woman--or whether you are living at all, or +dead, it will always be the same with me. Love is love. Nothing you say +now can alter it. Words--yours or the words of others--merely wound +_me_, and do not cripple my love for you. Nor can deeds do so. I know +that, now. They can slay only me, not my love, Jim--for I think, with +me, it is really and truly immortal." + +His head dropped between his hands. She saw his body trembling at +moments. After a little while she rose, and, stepping to his side, bent +over him, letting her hand rest lightly on his hair. + +"All I ask of you is to be patient," she whispered. "And you don't +understand--you don't seem to understand me, dear. I am learning very +fast--much faster and more thoroughly than I believed possible. Cynthia +was here this evening. She helped me so much. She taught me a great +deal--a very great deal. And your goodness--your unselfishness in coming +to me this way--with your boyish amends, your unconsidered and impulsive +offers of restitution--restitution of single blessedness----" She +smiled; and, deep within her breast, a faint thrill stirred her like a +far premonition. + +Timidly, scarcely daring, she ventured by degrees to encircle his head +with her arm, letting her cool fingers rest over the tense, and feverish +hands that covered his face. + +"What a boy is this grown man!" she whispered. "What a foolish, +emotional, impulsive boy! And such an unhappy one; and _such_ a tired +one!" + +And, once more hesitating, and with infinite precaution, lest he become +suddenly too conscious of this new and shy demonstration, she ventured +to seat herself on the arm of his chair and bend closer to him. + +"You must go back to your rooms, dear," she murmured. "It is morning, +and we both are in need of sleep, I think. So you must say good-night to +me and go back to--to pleasant dreams. And to-morrow we will go to +Silverwood for over Sunday. Two whole days together, dear----" + +Her soft cheek rested against his; her voice died out. Slowly, guided by +the most delicate pressure, his head moved toward her shoulder, +resisted, fell forward on her breast. For one instant's ecstasy she drew +his face against her, tightly, almost fearfully, then sprang to her +feet, breathless, blushing from throat to brow, and stepped back. + +He was on his feet, too, flushed, dazed, moving toward her. + +She stretched out both hands swiftly. + +"Good-night, dearest--dearest of men. You have made me happy again. You +are making me happier every moment. Only--be patient with me. And it +will all come true--what we have dreamed." + +Her fragrant hands were crushed against his lips, and her heart was +beating faster and faster, and she was saying she scarcely knew what. + +"All will be well with us. _I_ no longer doubt it. _You_ must not. I--I +_am_ the girl you desire. I will be, always--always. Only be gentle and +patient with me--only that--only that." + +"How can I take you this way--and keep you--after what I have done?" he +stammered. "How can I let your generosity and mercy rob you of what is +your due----" + +"Love is my due, I think. But only you can give it. And if you withhold +it, Jim, I am robbed indeed." + +"Your pity--your sweetness----" + +"My pity is for myself if you prove unkind." + +"I? Unkind! Good God----" + +"Oh! He _is_ good, Jim! And He will be. Never doubt it again. And lie +down to pleasant dreams. Will you come for me to-morrow at five?" + +"Yes." + +"And never again distrust yourself or me?" + +He drew a deep, unsteady breath. + +"Good-night," she whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Jacqueline had been half an hour late at her office and the routine +business was not yet quite finished when Captain Herrendene was +announced at the telephone. + +"I thought you had sailed!" she exclaimed in surprise, as he greeted her +over the wire. + +He laughed: "I'm ordered to Governor's Island. Jolly, isn't it?" + +"Fine!" she said cordially. "We shall see you sometimes, I suppose." + +"I'm asked to the Lindley Hammertons for the week-end. Are you to be at +Silverwood by any happy chance?" + +"Indeed we are. We are going up to-night." + +"Good business!" he said. "And--may I wish you happiness, Mrs. Desboro? +Your husband is a perfectly bully fellow--lots of quality in that young +man--loads of reserve and driving force! Tell him I congratulate him +with all my heart. You know what I think of _you_!" + +"It's very sweet of you to speak this way about us," she said. "You may +surmise what I think of my husband. So thank you for wishing us +happiness. And you will come over with Daisy, won't you? We are going to +be at home until Monday." + +"Indeed I _will_ come!" he said heartily. + +She hung up the receiver, smiling but a trifle flushed; and in her blue +eyes there lingered something resembling tenderness as she turned once +more to the pile of typewritten letters awaiting her signature. She had +cared a great deal for this man's devotion; and since she had refused +him she cared for his friendship even more than before. And, being +feminine, capable, and very tender-hearted, she already was experiencing +the characteristic and ominous solicitude of her sex for the future +consolation and ultimate happiness of this young and unmarried man. +Might it not be accomplished through Daisy Hammerton? What could be more +suitable, more perfect? + +Her sensitive lips were edged with a faint smile as she signed her name +to the first business letter. It began to look dark for Captain +Herrendene. No doubt, somewhere aloft, the cherubim were already +giggling. When a nice girl refuses a man, his business with her has only +just begun. + +She continued to sign her letters, the ominous smile always hovering on +her upcurled lips. And, pursuing that train of thought, she came, +unwittingly, upon another, so impossible, yet so delightful and exciting +that every feminine fibre in her responded to the invitation to meddle. +She could scarcely wait to begin, so possessed was she by the alluringly +hopeless proposition evolved from her inner consciousness; and, as soon +as the last letter had been signed, and her stenographer had taken away +the correspondence, she flew to the telephone and called up Cynthia +Lessler. + +"Is it you, dear?" she asked excitedly; and Cynthia, at the other end of +the wire, caught the happy ring in her voice, for she answered: + +"You sound very gay this morning. _Are_ you, dear?" + +"Yes, darling. Tell me, what are you doing over Sunday?" + +Cynthia hesitated, then she answered calmly: + +"Mr. Cairns is coming in the morning to take me to the Metropolitan +Museum." + +"What a funny idea!" + +"Why is it funny? He suggested that we go and look at the Chinese +porcelains so that we could listen more intelligently to you." + +"As though I were accustomed to lecture my friends! How absurd, Cynthia. +You can't go. I want you at Silverwood." + +"Thank you, dear, but I've promised him----" + +"Then come up on the noon train!" + +"In the afternoon," explained Cynthia, still more calmly, "Mr. Cairns +and I are to read together a new play which has not yet been put in +rehearsal." + +"But, darling! I do want you for Sunday! Why can't you come up for this +week-end, and postpone the Museum meanderings? Please ask him to let you +off." + +There was a pause, then Cynthia said in a still, small voice: + +"Mr. Cairns is here. You may ask him." + +Cairns came to the telephone and said that he would consult the wishes +and the convenience of Miss Lessler. + +There ensued another pause, ostensibly for consultation, during which +Jacqueline experienced a wicked and almost overwhelming desire to laugh. + +Presently Cynthia called her: + +"_We_ think," she said with pretty emphasis, "that it would be very +jolly to visit you. We can go to the museum any other Sunday, Mr. Cairns +says." + +But the spirit of mischief still possessed Jacqueline, and she refused +to respond to the hint. + +"So you are coming?" she exclaimed with enthusiasm. + +"If you want _us_, darling." + +"That's delightful! You know Jim and I haven't had a chance yet to +entertain our bridesmaid. We want her to be our very first guest. Thank +you so much, darling, for coming. And please say to Mr. Cairns that it +is perfectly dear of him to let you off----" + +"But _he_ is coming, too, isn't he?" exclaimed Cynthia anxiously. "You +are asking us both, aren't you. _What_ are you laughing at, you little +wretch!" + +But Jacqueline's laughter died out and she said hastily: + +"Bring him with you, dear," and turned to confront Mrs. Hammerton, who +arrived by appointment and exactly on the minute. + +The clerk who, under orders, had brought the old lady directly to the +office, retired, closing the door behind him. Jacqueline hung up the +telephone receiver, rose from her chair and gazed silently at the woman +whose letter to her had first shattered her dream of happiness. Then, +with a little gesture: + +"Won't you please be seated?" she said quietly. + +Aunt Hannah's face was grim as she sat down on the chair indicated. + +[Illustration: "'You have no further interest in me, have you?'"] + +"You have no further interest in me, have you?" she demanded. + +Jacqueline did not answer. + +"I ought to have come here before," said Aunt Hannah. "I ought to have +come here immediately and explained to you that when I wrote that letter +I hadn't the vaguest notion that you were already married. Do you think +I'd have been such a fool if I'd known it, Jacqueline?" + +Jacqueline lifted her troubled eyes: "I do not think you should have +interfered at all." + +"Good heavens! I know that! I knew it when I did it. It's the one +hopelessly idiotic act of my life. Never, _never_ was anything gained or +anything altered by interfering where real love is. I knew it, child. +It's an axiom--a perfectly self-evident proposition--an absolutely +hopeless effort. But I chanced it. Your mother, if she were alive, would +have chanced it. Don't blame me too much; be a little sorry for me. +Because I loved you when I did it. And many, many of the most terrible +mistakes in life are made because of love, Jacqueline. The mistakes of +hate are fewer." + +Aunt Hannah's folded hands tightened on the gun-metal reticule across +her knees. + +"It's too late to say I'm sorry," she said. "Besides, I'd do it again." + +"What!" + +"Yes, I would. So would your mother. I _am_ sorry; but I _would_ do it +again! I love you enough to do it again--and--and suffer what I _am_ +suffering in consequence." + +Jacqueline looked at her in angry bewilderment, and the spark in the +little black eyes died out. + +"Child," she said wearily, "we childless women who love are capable of +the same self-sacrifice that mothers understand. I wrote you to save +you, practically certain that I was giving you up by doing it--and that +with every word of warning I was signing my own death warrant in your +affections. But I _couldn't_ sit still and let you go to the altar +unwarned. Had I cared less for you, yes! I could have let you take your +chances undisturbed by me. But--you took them anyway--took them before +my warning could do anything except anger you. Otherwise, it would have +hurt and angered you, too. I have no illusions; what I said would have +availed nothing. Only--it was my duty to say it. I never was crazy about +doing my duty. But I did it this time." + +She found a fresh handkerchief in her reticule and rolled it nervously +into a wad. + +"So--that is all, Jacqueline. I've made a bad mess of it. I've made a +far worse one than I supposed possible. You are unhappy. James is +perfectly wretched. The boy came to me furious, bewildered, almost +exasperated, to find out what had been said about him and who had said +it. And--and I told him what I thought of him. I _did_! And when he had +gone, I--cried myself sick--_sick_, I tell you. + +"And that's why I'm here. It has given me courage to come here. I know I +am discredited; that what I say will be condemned in advance; that you +are too hurt, too hostile to me to be influenced. But--I must say my say +before I go out of your life--and his--forever. And what I came to say +to you is this. Forgive that boy! Pardon absolutely everything he has +done; eliminate it; annihilate the memory of it if you can! Memory _can_ +be stunned, if not destroyed. I know; I've had to do it often. So I say +to you, begin again with him. Give that boy his chance to grow up to +your stature. In all the world I believe you are the only woman who can +ennoble him and make of him something fine--if not your peer, at least +its masculine equivalent. I do not mean to be bitter. But I cannot help +my opinion of things masculine. Forgive him, Jacqueline. Many men are +better than he; many, many are worse. But the best among them are not so +very much better than your boy Jim. Forgive him and help him to grow up. +And--that is all--I think----" + +She rose and turned sharply away. Jacqueline rose and crossed the room +to open the door for her. They met there. Aunt Hannah's ugly little face +remained averted while she waited for the open door to free her. + +"Mr. Desboro and I are going to be happy," said Jacqueline in a strained +voice. + +"It lies with you," snapped Aunt Hannah. + +"Yes--a great deal seems to lie with me. The burden of decision seems to +lie with me very often. Somehow I can't escape it. And I am not wise, +not experienced enough----" + +"You are _good_. That's wisdom enough for decision." + +"But--do you know--I am _not_ very good." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I understand much that is evil. How can real innocence be so +unworthily wise?" + +"Innocence isn't goodness by a long shot!" said Aunt Hannah bluntly. +"The good _know_--and refrain." + +There was a silence; the elder woman in her black gown stood waiting, +her head still obstinately averted. Suddenly she felt the girl's soft +arms around her neck, quivered, caught her in a fierce embrace. + +"I--I want you to care for Jim," faltered the girl. "I want you to know +what he really is--the dearest and most generous of men. I want you to +discover the real nobility in him. He _is_ only a boy, as yet, Aunt +Hannah. And he--he must not be--cruelly--punished." + +When Aunt Hannah had marched out, still inclined to dab at her eyes, but +deeply and thankfully happy, Jacqueline called up her husband at his +office. + +"Jim, dear," she said, "I have had a visit from Aunt Hannah. And she's +terribly unhappy because she thinks you and I are; so I told her that we +are not unhappy, and I scolded her for saying those outrageous things to +you. And she took it so meekly, and--and she does really care for +us--and--and I've made up with her. Was it disloyal to you to forgive +her?" + +"No," he said quietly. "What she said to me was the truth." + +"I don't know what she said to you, dear. She didn't tell me. But I +gathered from her that it was something intensely disagreeable. So don't +ever tell me--because I might begin to dislike her again. And--it wasn't +true, anyway. She knows that now. So--we will be friendly to her, won't +we?" + +"Of course. She adores you anyway----" + +"If she doesn't adore you, too, I won't care for her!" said the girl +hotly. + +He laughed; she could hear him distinctly; and she realised with a +little thrill that it was the same engaging laugh which she had first +associated with the delightful, graceful, charming young fellow who was +now her husband. + +"What are you doing, Jim?" she asked, smiling in sympathy. + +"There's absolutely nothing doing in the office, dear." + +"Then--could you come over here?" + +"Oh, Jacqueline! Do _you_ tempt me?" + +"No," she said hastily. "I suppose you ought to be there in the office, +whether there's anything to do or not. Listen, Jim. I've invited Cynthia +and Jack Cairns for the week-end. Was it all right?" + +"Of course." + +"You don't really mind, do you?" + +"Not a bit, dear." + +"We can be by ourselves if we wish. They're going to read a play +together," she explained naïvely, "and they won't bother us----" + +She checked herself, blushing furiously. He, at his end of the wire, +could scarcely speak for the quick tumult of his heart, but he managed +to say calmly enough: + +"We've got the entire estate to roam over if they bore us." + +"Will you take me for a walk on Sunday?" + +"Yes, if you would care to go." + +"Haven't I invited you to take me?" + +"Have you really, Jacqueline?" + +"Yes. Good-bye. I will be waiting for you at five." + +She returned to her desk, the flush slowly cooling in her cheeks; and +she was just resuming her seat when a clerk brought Clydesdale's card. + +"I could see Mr. Clydesdale now," she said, glancing over the +appointment list on her desk. Her smile had died out with the colour in +her cheeks, and her beautiful eyes grew serious and stern. For the name +that this man bore was associated in her mind with terrible and +unspeakable things. Never again could she hear that name with +equanimity; never recall it unmoved. Yet, now, she made an effort to put +from her all that menaced her composure at the mere mention of that +name--strove to think only of the client and kindly amateur who had +treated her always with unvarying courtesy and consideration. + +He came in grinning, as usual, and she took his extended and +highly-coloured paw, smiling her greeting. + +"Is it a little social visit, Mr. Clydesdale, or have you discovered +some miracle of ancient Cathay which you covet?" + +"It's--my wife." + +Her smile fled and her features altered to an expressionless and +colourless mask. For a second there was a gleam of fear in her eyes, +then they grew cold and clear and blue as arctic ice. + +He remained standing, the grin stamped on his sanguine features. +Presently he said, heavily: + +"I have come to you to make what reparation I can--in my wife's name--in +her behalf. Our deep humiliation, deeper contrition, are the only +reparation we can offer you. It is hard for me to speak. My wife is at +home, ill. And she can not rest until she has told you, through me, +that--that what she said to you the last time she saw you--here, in this +office--was an untruth." + +Jacqueline, dazed, merely stared at him. He bent his head and seemed to +be searching in his mind for words. He found them after a while. + +"Yes," he said in a low voice, "what my wife said, and what she +permitted you to infer--concerning herself and--Mr. Desboro--was utterly +untrue. God alone knows why she said it. But she did. I could plead +extenuation for her--if your patience permits. She is naturally very +nervous; she _did_ care a great deal for Mr. Desboro; she did, at that +time, really dislike me," he added with a quiet dignity which made every +word he uttered ring out clear as a shot. And Jacqueline seemed to feel +their impact on her very heart. + +He said: "There are other circumstances--painful ones. She had been for +months--even years--in fear of blackmail--terrorised by it until she +became morbid. I did not know this. I was not aware that an indiscreet +but wholly innocent escapade of her youth had furnished this blackmailer +with a weapon. I understand now, why, caring as she did for Mr. Desboro, +and excited, harassed, terrified, exasperated, she was willing to make +an end of it with him rather than face possible disgrace with me for +whom she did not care. It is no excuse. She offers none. I offer none +for her. Nothing--no mental, no physical state could excuse what she has +done. Only--I wish--and she wishes you to know that she has been guilty +of permitting you to believe a monstrous untruth which would have +consigned her to infamy had it been true, and absolutely damned the man +you have married." + +She strove to comprehend this thing that he was saying--tried to realise +that he was absolutely clearing her husband of the terrible and nameless +shadow which, she knew now, never could have entirely fled away, except +for the mercy of God and the words of humiliation now sounding in her +ears. + +She stared at him. And the terrible thing was that he was grinning +still--grinning through all the agony of his shame and dreadful +abasement. And she longed to turn away--to shut out his face from her +sight. But dared not. + +"That is all," he said heavily. "Perhaps there is a little more to +say--but it will leave you indifferent, very naturally. Yet, may I say +that this--this heart-breaking crisis in her life, and--in +mine--has--brought us together? And--a little more. My wife is to become +a mother. Which is why I venture to hope that you will be merciful to us +both in your thoughts. I do not ask for your pardon, which you could +never give----" + +"Mr. Clydesdale!" She had risen, trembling, both little hands flat on +the desk top to steady her, and was looking straight at him. + +[Illustration: "'I--I have never thought mercilessly'"] + +"I--my thoughts----" she stammered "are not cruel. Say so to your wife. +I--I have never thought mercilessly. Every instinct within me is +otherwise. And I know what suffering is. And I do not wish it for +anybody. Say so to your wife, and that I wish her--happiness--with her +baby." + +She was trembling so that he could scarcely control between his two huge +fists the little hand that he saluted in wordless gratitude and grief. + +Then, without looking at her again, or speaking, he went his way. And +she dropped back into her chair, the tears of sheer happiness and +excitement flowing unchecked. + +But she was permitted no time to collect her thoughts, no solitude for +happy tears, and, at the clerk's sharp knocking, she dried her eyes +hastily and bade him enter. + +The card he laid on her desk seemed to amaze her. + +"_That_ man!" she said slowly. "Is he _here_, Mr. Mirk?" + +"Yes, madam. He asks for one minute only, saying that it is a matter of +most desperate importance to you----" + +"To _me_?" + +"Yes, madam." + +Again she looked at Mr. Waudle's card. + +"Bring him," she said crisply. And the blue lightning flashed in her +eyes. + +When Mr. Waudle came in and the clerk had gone and closed the door, +Jacqueline said quietly: + +"I'll give you one minute, Mr. Waudle. Proceed." + +"I think," he said, looking at her out of his inflamed eyes, "that +you'll feel inclined to give me more than that when you understand what +I've got in this packet." And he drew from his overcoat pocket a roll of +galley proofs. + +"What is it?" she asked, looking calmly into his dangerous red eyes. + +"It's a story, set up and in type--as you see. And it's about your +husband and Mrs. Clydesdale--if you want to know." + +A shaft of fear struck straight through her. Then, in an instant the +blanched cheeks flushed and the blue eyes cleared and sparkled. + +"What is it you wish?" she asked in a curiously still voice. + +"I'll tell you; don't worry. I want you to stop this man Clydesdale, and +stop him short. I don't care how you do it; _do_ it, that's all. He's +bought and paid for certain goods delivered to him by me. Now he's +squealing. He wants his money back. And--if he gets it back this story +goes in. Want me to read it to you?" + +"No. What is it you wish me to do--deceive Mr. Clydesdale? Make him +believe that the remainder of the jades and rose-quartz carvings are +genuine?" + +"It looks good to me," said Mr. Waudle more cheerfully. "It sounds all +right. You threw us down; it's up to you to pick us up." + +"I see," she said pleasantly. "And unless I do you are intending to +publish that--story?" + +"Sure as hell!" he nodded. + +She remained silent and thoughtful so long that he began to hitch about +in his chair and cast furtive, sidelong glances at her and at the +curtained walls around the room. Suddenly his face grew ghastly. + +"Look here!" he whispered hoarsely. "Is this a plant?" + +"What?" + +"Is there anybody else in this room?" He lurched to his feet and waddled +hastily around the four walls, flinging aside the green velvet curtains. +Only the concealed pictures were revealed; and he went back to his +chair, removing the cold sweat from his forehead and face with his +sleeve. + +"By God!" he said. "For a moment I thought you had done me good and +plenty. But it wouldn't have helped _you_! They've got this story in the +office, and the minute I'm pinched, in it goes! Understand?" + +"No," she said serenely, "but it doesn't really matter. You may go now, +Mr. Waudle." + +"Hey?" + +"Must I ring for a clerk to put you out?" + +"Oh! So that's the game, is it? Well, I tell you that you can't bluff +me, little lady! Let's settle it now." + +"No," she said. "I must have time to consider." + +"How long?" + +"An hour or two." + +"You'll make up your mind in two hours?" + +"Yes." + +"All right," he said, almost jovially. "That suits me. Call me up on the +'phone and tell me what you decide. My number is on my card." + +She looked at the card. It bore his telephone number and his house +address. + +He seemed inclined to linger, evidently with the idea of tightening his +grip on her by either persuasion or bullying, as her attitude might +warrant. But she touched the bell and Mr. Mirk appeared; and the author +of "Black Roses" took himself off perforce, with many a knowing leer, +both threatening and blandishing. + +As soon as he had gone, she called up her husband. Very quietly, but +guardedly, she conversed with him for a few moments. + +When she hung up the receiver she was laughing. But it was otherwise +with Desboro. + +"Cairns," he said, turning from the telephone to his associate, "there's +a silly fellow bothering my wife. If you don't mind my leaving the +office for a few minutes I'll step around and speak to him." His usually +agreeable features had grown colourless and ugly, but his voice sounded +casual enough. + +"What are you going to do, Jim? Murder?" + +Desboro laughed. + +"I'll be gone only a few minutes," he said. + +"It _could_ be done in a few minutes," mused Cairns. "Do you want me to +go with you?" + +"No, thanks." He picked up his hat, nodded curtly, and went out. + +Mr. Waudle and Mr. Munger maintained a "den," literary and otherwise, in +one of the new studio buildings just east of Lexington Avenue. This was +the address Mr. Waudle had left for Jacqueline; to this destination +Desboro now addressed himself. Thither an itinerant taxicab bore him on +shaky springs. He paid the predatory chauffeur, turned to enter the +building, and met Clydesdale face to face, entering the same doorway. + +"Hello!" said the latter with a cheerful grin. "Where are you bound?" + +"Oh, there's a man hereabouts with whom I have a few moments' business." + +"Same here," observed Clydesdale. + +They entered the building together, and both walked straight through to +the elevator. + +"Mr. Waudle," said Clydesdale briefly to the youth in charge. "You need +not announce me." + +Desboro looked at him curiously, and caught Clydesdale's eyes furtively +measuring him. + +"Odd," he said pleasantly, "but my business is with the same man." + +"I was wondering." + +They exchanged perfectly inexpressive glances. + +"Couldn't your business wait?" inquired Desboro politely. + +"Sorry, Desboro, but I was a little ahead of you in the entry, I think." + +The car stopped. + +"Studio twenty," said the boy; slammed the gates, and shot down into +dimly lighted depths again, leaving the two men together. + +"I am wondering," mused Clydesdale gently, "whether by any chance your +business with this--ah--Mr. Waudle resembles my business with him." + +They looked at each other. + +Desboro nodded: "Very probably," he said in a low voice. + +"Oh! Then perhaps you might care to be present at the business meeting," +said Clydesdale, "as a spectator, merely, of course." + +"Thanks, awfully. But might I not persuade _you_ to remain as a +spectator----" + +"Very good of you, Desboro, but I need the--ah--exercise. Really, I've +gone quite stale this winter. Don't even keep up my squash." + +"Mistake," said Desboro gravely. "'Fraid you'll overdo it, old chap." + +"Oh, I'll have a shy at it," said Clydesdale cheerfully. "Very glad to +have you score, if you like." + +"If you insist," replied the younger man courteously. + +There was a bell outside Studio No. 20. Desboro punched it with the +ferrule of his walking stick; and when the door opened, somewhat +cautiously, Clydesdale inserted his huge foot between the door and the +sill. + +There was a brief and frantic scuffle; then the poet fled, his bunch of +frizzled hair on end, and the two men entered the apartment. + +To the left a big studio loomed, set with artistic furniture and +bric-a-brac and Mr. Waudle--the latter in motion. In fact, he was at +that moment in the process of rushing at Mr. Clydesdale, and under full +head-way. + +Whenever Mr. Waudle finally obtained sufficient momentum to rush, he +appeared to be a rather serious proposition; for he was as tall as +Clydesdale and very much fatter, and his initial velocity, combined with +his impact force per square inch might have rivalled the dynamic +problems of the proving ground. + +Clydesdale took one step forward to welcome him, and Waudle went down, +like thunder. + +Then he got up, went down immediately; got up, went down, stayed down +for an appreciable moment; arose, smote the air, was smitten with a +smack so terrific that the poet, who was running round and round the +four walls, squeaked in sympathy. + +Waudle sat up on the floor, his features now an unrecognisable mess. He +was crying. + +"I say, Desboro, catch that poet for me--there's a good chap," said +Clydesdale, breathing rather hard. + +The Cubist, who had been running round and round like a frantic rabbit, +screamed and ran the faster. + +"Oh, just shy some bric-a-brac at him and come home," said Desboro in +disgust. + +But Clydesdale caught him, seated himself, jerked the devotee of the +moon across his ponderous knees, and, grinning, hoisted on high the +heavy hand of justice. And the post-impressionistic literature of the +future shrieked. + +"Very precious, isn't it?" panted Clydesdale. "You dirty little mop of +hair, I think I'll spank _you_ into the future. Want a try at this +moon-pup, Desboro? No? Quite right; you don't need the exercise. Whew!" +And he rolled the writhing poet off his knees and onto the floor, sat up +breathing hard and grinning around him. + +"Now for the club and a cold plunge--eh, Desboro? I tell you it puts +life into a man, doesn't it? Perhaps, while I'm about it, I might as +well beat up the other one a little more----" + +"My God!" blubbered Waudle. + +"Oh, very well--if you feel that way about it," grinned Clydesdale. "But +you understand that you won't have any sensation to feel with at all if +you ever again even think of the name of Mrs. Clydesdale." + +He got up, still panting jovially, pleased as a great Dane puppy who has +shaken an old shoe to fragments. + +At the door he paused and glanced back. + +"Take it from me," he said genially, "if we ever come back, we'll kill." + + * * * * * + +In the street once more, they lingered on the sidewalk for a moment or +two before separating. Clydesdale drew off his split and ruined gloves, +rolled them together and tossed them into the passing handcart of a +street sweeper. + +"Unpleasant job," he commented. + +"I don't think you'll have it to do over again," smiled Desboro. + +"No, I think not. And thank you for yielding so gracefully to me. It was +my job. But you didn't miss anything; it was like hitting a feather bed. +No sport in it--but had to be done. Well, glad to have seen you again, +Desboro." + +They exchanged grips; both flushed a trifle, hesitated, nodded +pleasantly to each other, and separated. + +At the office Cairns inspected him curiously as he entered, but, as +Desboro said nothing, he asked no questions. A client or two sauntered +in and out. At one o'clock they lunched together. + +"I understand you're coming up for the week-end," said Desboro. + +"Your wife was good enough to ask me." + +"Glad you're coming. Old Herrendene has been ordered to Governor's +Island. He expects to stop with the Lindley Hammertons over Sunday." + +"That Daisy girl's a corker," remarked Cairns, "--only I've always been +rather afraid of her." + +"She's a fine girl." + +"Rather in Herrendene's class--lots of character," nodded Cairns +thoughtfully. "Having none myself, she always had me backed up against +the rail." + +After a silence, Desboro said: "That was a ghastly break of mine last +night." + +"Rotten," said Cairns bluntly. + +The painful colour rose to Desboro's temples. + +"It will be the last, Jack. I lived a thousand years last night." + +"I lived a few hundred myself," said Cairns reproachfully. "And _what_ a +thoroughbred your wife is!" + +Desboro nodded and drew a deep, unsteady breath. + +"Well," he said, after a few moments, "it is a terrible thing for a man +to learn what he really is. But if he doesn't learn it he's lost." + +Cairns assented with a jerk of his head. + +"But who's to hold up the mirror to a man?" he asked. "When his father +and mother shove it under his nose he won't look; when clergy or laymen +offer him a looking-glass he shuts his eyes and tries to kick them. +That's the modern youngster--the product of this modern town with its +modern modes of thought." + +"The old order of things was the best," said Desboro. "Has anybody given +us anything better than what they reasoned us into discarding--the old +gentleness of manners, the quaint, stiff formalisms now out of date, the +shyness and reticence of former days, the serenity, the faith which is +now unfashionable, the old-time reverence?" + +"I don't know," said Cairns, "what we've gained in the discard. I look +now at the cards they offer us to take up, and there is nothing on them. +And the game has forced us to throw away what we had." He caressed his +chin thoughtfully. "The only way to do is to return to first principles, +cut a fresh pack, never mind new rules and innovations, but play the +game according to the decalogue. And nobody can call you down." He +reddened, and added honestly: "That's not entirely my own, Jim. There +are some similar lines in a new play which Miss Lessler and I were +reading this morning." + +"Reading? Where?" + +"Oh, we walked through the Park together rather early--took it easy, you +know. She read aloud as we walked." + +"She is coming for the week-end," said Desboro. + +"I believe so." + +Desboro, lighting a cigarette, permitted his very expressionless glance +to rest on his friend for the briefest fraction of a second. + +"The papers," he said, "speak of her work with respect." + +"Miss Lessler," said Cairns, "is a most unusual girl." + +Neither men referred to the early days of their acquaintance with +Cynthia Lessler. As though by tacit agreement those days seemed to have +been entirely forgotten. + +"A rarely intelligent and lovely comedienne," mused Cairns, poking the +cigar ashes on the tray and finally laying aside his cigar. "Well, Jim, +I suppose the office yawns for us. But it won't have anything on my yawn +when I get there!" + +They went back across Fifth Avenue in the brilliant afternoon sunshine, +to dawdle about the office and fuss away the afternoon in pretense that +the awakening of the Street from its long lethargy was imminent. + +At half past three Cairns took himself off, leaving Desboro studying the +sunshine on the ceiling. At five the latter awoke from his day dream, +stood up, shook himself, drew a deep breath, and straightened his +shoulders. Before him, now delicately blurred and charmingly indistinct, +still floated the vision of his day-dream; and, with a slight effort, he +could still visualise, as he moved out into the city and through its +noise and glitter, south, into that quieter street where his day-dream's +vision lived and moved and had her earthly being. + +Mr. Mirk came smiling and bowing from the dim interior. There was no +particular reason for the demonstration, but Desboro shook his hand +cordially. + +"Mrs. Desboro is in her office," said Mr. Mirk. "You know the way, +sir--if you please----" + +He knew the way. It was not likely that he would ever forget the path +that he had followed that winter day. + +At his knock she opened the door herself. + +"I don't know how I knew it was your knock," she said, giving ground as +he entered. There was an expression in his face that made her own +brighten, as though perhaps she had not been entirely certain in what +humour he might arrive. + +"The car will be here in a few minutes," he said. "That's a tremendously +pretty hat of yours." + +"Do you like it? I saw it the other day. And somehow I felt extravagant +this afternoon and telephoned for it. Do you really like it, Jim?" + +"It's a beauty." + +"I'm so glad--so relieved. Sometimes I catch you looking at me, Jim, and +I wonder how critical you really are. I _want_ you to like what I wear. +You'll always tell me when you don't, won't you?" + +"No fear of my not agreeing with your taste," he said cheerfully. "By +the way--and apropos of nothing--Waudle won't bother you any more." + +"Oh!" + +"I believe Clydesdale interviewed him--and the other one--the poet." He +laughed. "Afterward there was not enough remaining for me to interview." + +Jacqueline's serious eyes, intensely blue, were lifted to his. + +"We won't speak of them again, ever," she said in a low voice. + +"Right, as always," he rejoined gaily. + +She still stood looking at him out of grave and beautiful eyes, which +seemed strangely shy and tender to him. Then, slowly shaking her head +she said, half to herself: + +"I have much to answer for--more than you must ever know. But I shall +answer for it; never fear." + +"What are you murmuring there all by yourself, Jacqueline?" he said +smilingly; and ventured to take her gloved hand into his. She, too, +smiled, faintly, and stood silent, pretty head bent, absorbed in her own +thoughts. + +A moment later a clerk tapped and announced their car. She looked up at +her husband, and the confused colour in her face responded to the quick +pressure of his hands. + +"Are you quite ready to go?" he asked. + +"Yes--ready always--to go where--you lead." + +Her flushed face reflected the emotion in his as they went out together +into the last rays of the setting sun. + +"Have we time to motor to Silverwood?" she asked. + +"Would you care to?" + +"I'd love to." + +So he spoke to the chauffeur and entered the car after her. + +It was a strange journey for them both, with the memory of their last +journey together still so fresh, so pitilessly clear, in their minds. In +this car, over this road, beside this man, she had travelled with a +breaking heart and a mind haunted by horror unspeakable. + +To him the memory of that journey was no less terrible. They spoke to +each other tranquilly but seriously, and in voices unconsciously +lowered. And there were many lapses into stillness--many long intervals +of silence. But during the longest of these, when the Westchester hills +loomed duskily ahead, she slipped her hand into his and left it there +until the lights of Silverwood glimmered low on the hill and the gate +lanterns flashed in their eyes as the car swung into the fir-bordered +drive and rolled up to the house. + +"Home," she said, partly to herself; and he turned toward her in quick +gratitude. + +Once more the threatened emotion confused her, but she evaded it, +forcing a gaiety not in accord with her mood, as he aided her to +descend. + +"Certainly it's my home, monsieur, as well as yours," she repeated, "and +you'll feel the steel under the velvet hand of femininity as soon as I +assume the reins of government. For example, you can _not_ entertain +your cats and dogs in the red drawing-room any more. Now do you feel the +steel?" + +They went to their sitting-room laughing. + +About midnight she rose from the sofa. They had been discussing plans +for the future, repairs, alterations, improvements for Silverwood +House--and how to do many, many wonderful things at vast expense; and +how to practice rigid economy and do nothing at all. + +[Illustration: "And, as she rose, he was still figuring"] + +It had been agreed that he was to give up his rooms in town and use hers +whenever they remained in New York over night. And, as she rose, he was +still figuring out, with pencil and pad, how much they would save by +this arrangement. Now he looked up, saw her standing, and rose too. + +She looked at him with sweet, sleepy, humourous eyes. + +"Isn't it disgraceful and absurd?" she said. "But if I don't have my +sleep I simply become stupid and dreary and useless beyond words." + +"Why did you let me keep you up?" he said gently. + +"Because I wanted to stay up with you," she said. She had moved to the +centre table where the white carnations, as usual, filled the bowl. Her +slender hand touched them caressingly, lingered, and presently detached +a blossom. + +She lifted it dreamily, inhaling the fragrance and looking over its +scented chalice at him. + +"Good-night, Jim," she said. + +"Good-night, dearest." He came over to her, hesitated, reddening; then +bent and kissed her hand and the white flower it held. + +At her own door she lingered, turning to look after him as he crossed +his threshold; then slowly entered her room, her lips resting on the +blossom which he had kissed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +On Saturday afternoon Cynthia arrived at Silverwood House, with Cairns +in tow; and they were welcomed under the trees by their host and +hostess. Which was all very delightful until Cynthia and Jacqueline +paired off with each other and disappeared, calmly abandoning Cairns and +Desboro to their own devices, leaving them to gaze at each other in the +library with bored and increasing indifference. + +"You know, Jim," explained the former, in unfeigned disgust, "I have +quite enough of you every day, and I haven't come sixty miles to see +more of you." + +"I sympathise with your sentiments," said Desboro, laughing, "but Miss +Lessler has never before seen the place, and, of course, Jacqueline is +dying to show it to her. And, Jack--did you _ever_ see two more engaging +young girls than the two who have just deserted us? Really, partiality +aside, does any house in town contain two more dignified, intelligent, +charming----" + +"No, it doesn't!" said Cairns bluntly. "Nor any two women more upright +and chaste. It's a fine text, isn't it, though?" he added morosely. + +"How do you mean?" + +"That their goodness is due to their characters, not to environment or +to any material advantages. Has it ever occurred to you how doubly +disgraceful it is for people, with every chance in the world, not to +make good?" + +"Yes." + +"It has to me frequently of late. And I wonder what I'd have turned +into, given Cynthia's worldly chances." He shook his head, muttering to +himself: "It's fine, _fine_--to be what she is after what she has had to +stack up against!" + +Desboro winced. Presently he said in a low voice: + +"The worst she had to encounter were men of our sort. That's a truth we +can't blink. It wasn't loneliness or poverty or hunger that were +dangerous; it was men." + +"Don't," said Cairns, rising impatiently and striding about the room. "I +know all about _that_. But it's over, God be praised. And I'm seeing +things differently now--very, very differently. You are, too, I take it. +So, for the love of Mike, let's be pleasant about it. I hate gloom. +Can't a fellow regenerate himself and remain cheerful?" + +Desboro laughed uncertainly, listening to the gay voices on the stairs, +where Jacqueline and Cynthia were garrulously exploring the house +together. + + * * * * * + +"Darling, it's too lovely!" exclaimed Cynthia, every few minutes, while +Jacqueline was conducting her from one room to another, upstairs, down +again, through the hall and corridor, accompanied by an adoring +multitude of low-born dogs and nondescript cats, all running beside her +with tails stuck upright. + +And so, very happily together, they visited the kitchen, laundry, +storeroom, drying room, engine room, cellars; made the fragrant tour of +the greenhouses and a less fragrant visit to the garage; inspected the +water supply; gingerly traversed the gravel paths of the kitchen +garden, peeped into tool houses, carpenters' quarters; gravely surveyed +compost heaps, manure pits, and cold frames. + +Jacqueline pointed out the distant farm, with its barns, stables, dairy, +and chicken runs, from the lantern of the windmill, whither they had +climbed; and Cynthia looked out over the rolling country to the blue +hills edging the Hudson, and down into gray woodlands where patches of +fire signalled the swelling maple buds; and edging willows were palely +green. Over brown earth and new grass robins were running; and bluebirds +fluttered from tree to fencepost. + +Cynthia's arm stole around Jacqueline's waist. + +"I am so glad for you--so glad, so proud," she whispered. "Do you +remember, once, long ago, I prophesied this for you? That you would one +day take your proper place in the world?" + +"Do you know," mused Jacqueline, "I don't really believe that the +_place_ matters so much--as long as one is all right. That sounds +horribly priggish--but isn't it so, Cynthia?" + +"Few ever attain that self-sufficient philosophy," said Cynthia, +laughing. "You can spoil a gem by cheap setting." + +"But it remains a gem. Oh, Cynthia! _Am_ I such a prig as I sound?" + +They were both laughing so gaily that the flock of pigeons on the roof +were startled into flight and swung around them in whimpering circles. + +As they started to descend the steep stairs, Jacqueline said casually: + +"Do you continue to find Mr. Cairns as agreeable and interesting as +ever?" + +"Oh, yes," nodded the girl carelessly. + +"Jim likes him immensely." + +"He is a very pleasant companion," said Cynthia. + +When they were strolling toward the house, she added: + +"He thinks you are very wonderful, Jacqueline. But then everybody does." + +The girl blushed: "The only thing wonderful about me is my happiness," +she said. + +Cynthia looked up into her eyes. + +"_Are_ you?" + +"Happy? Of course." + +"Is that quite true, dear?" + +"Yes," said Jacqueline under her breath. + +"And--there is no flaw?" + +"None--now." + +Cynthia impulsively caught up one of her hands and kissed it. + +In the library they found beside their deserted swains two visitors, +Daisy Hammerton and Captain Herrendene. + +"Fine treatment!" protested Cairns, looking at Cynthia, as Jacqueline +came forward with charming friendliness and greeted her guests and made +Cynthia known to them. "Fine treatment!" he repeated scornfully, +"--leaving Jim and me to yawn at each other until Daisy and the Captain +yonder----" + +"Jack," interrupted his pretty hostess, "if you push that button +somebody will bring tea." + +"Twice means that Scotch is to be included," remarked Desboro. "You +didn't know that, did you, dear?" + +"The only thing I know about your house, monsieur, is that your cats +and dogs must _not_ pervade the red drawing-room," she said laughing. +"_Look_ at Captain Herrendene's beautiful cutaway coat! It's all covered +with fur and puppy hair! And now _he_ can't go into the drawing-room, +either!" + +Cairns looked ruefully at a black and white cat which had jumped onto +his knees and was purring herself to sleep there. + +"If enough of 'em climb on me I'll have a motor coat for next winter," +he said with resignation. + +Tea was served; the chatter and laughter became general. Daisy +Hammerton, always enamoured of literature, and secretly addicted to its +creation, spoke of Orrin Munger's new volume which Herrendene had been +reading to her that morning under the trees. + +"Such a queer book," she said, turning to Jacqueline, "--and I'm not yet +quite certain whether it's silly or profound. Captain Herrendene makes +fun of it--but it seems as though there _must_ be _some_ meaning in it." + +"There isn't," said Herrendene. "It consists of a wad of verse, blank, +inverted, and symbolic. Carbolic is what it requires." + +"Isn't that the moon-youth who writes over the heads of the public and +far ahead of 'em into the next century?" inquired Cairns. + +"When an author," said Herrendene, "thinks he is writing ahead of his +readers, the chances are that he hasn't yet caught up with them." + +The only flaw in Daisy Hammerton's good sense was a mistaken respect for +printed pages. She said, reverently: + +"When a poet like Orrin Munger refers to himself as a Cubist and a +Futurist, it _must_ have some occult significance. Besides, he went +about a good deal last winter, and I met him." + +"What did you think of him?" asked Desboro drily. + +"I scarcely knew. He _is_ odd. He kissed everybody's hand and spoke with +such obscurity about his work--referred to it in such veiled terms that, +somehow, it all seemed a wonderful mystery to me." + +Desboro smiled: "The man who is preëminent in his profession," he said +quietly, "never makes a mystery of it. He may be too tired to talk about +it, too saturated with it, after the day's work, to discuss it; but +never fool enough to pretend that there is anything occult in it or in +the success he has made of it. Only incompetency is self-conscious and +secretive; only the ass strikes attitudes." + +Jacqueline looked at him with pride unutterable. She thought as he did. + +He smiled at her, encouraged, and went on: + +"The complacent tickler of phrases, the pseudo-intellectual scrambler +after subtleties that do not exist, the smirking creators of the +tortuous, the writhing explorers of the obvious, who pretend to find +depths where there are shallows, the unusual where only the commonplace +and wholesome exist--these will always parody real effort, and ape real +talent in all creative professions, and do more damage than mere +ignorance or even mere viciousness could ever accomplish. And, to my +mind, that is all there is and all there ever will be to men like +Munger." + +Daisy laughed and looked at Herrendene. + +"Then I've wasted your morning!" she said, pretending contrition. + +He looked her straight in the eye. + +"I hadn't thought of it that way," he said pleasantly. + +Cairns, tired of feigning an interest in matters literary, tinkled the +ice in his glass and looked appealingly at Cynthia. And his eyes said +very plainly: "Shall we go for a walk?" + +But she only smiled, affecting not to understand; and the discussion of +things literary continued. + +It was very pleasant there in the house; late sunshine slanted across +the hall; a springlike breeze fluttered the curtains, and the evening +song of the robins had begun, ringing cheerily among the Norway spruces +and over the fresh green lawns. + +"It's a shame to sit indoors on a day like this," said Desboro lazily. + +Everybody agreed, but nobody stirred, except Cairns, who fidgeted and +looked at Cynthia. + +Perhaps that maiden's heart softened, for she rose presently, and +drifted off into the music room. Cairns followed. The others listened to +her piano playing, conversing, too, at intervals, until Daisy gave the +signal to go, and Herrendene rose. + +So the adieux were said, and a wood ramble for the morrow suggested. +Then Daisy and her Captain went away across the fields on foot, and +Cynthia returned to the piano, Cairns following at heel, as usual. + +Jacqueline and Desboro, lingering by the open door, saw the distant +hills turn to purest cobalt, and the girdling woodlands clothe +themselves in purple haze. Dusk came stealing across the meadows, and +her frail ghosts floated already over the alder-hidden brook. A near +robin sang loudly. A star came out between naked branches and looked at +them. + +"How still the world has grown," breathed Jacqueline. "Except for its +silence, night with all its beauties would be unendurable." + +"I believe we both need quiet," he said. + +"Yes, quiet--and each other." + +Her voice had fallen so exquisitely low that he bent his head to catch +her words. But when he understood what she had said, he turned and +looked at her; and, still gazing on the coming night, she leaned a +little nearer to him, resting her cheek lightly against his shoulder. + +"That is what we need," she whispered, "--silence, and each other. Don't +you think so, Jim?" + +"I need _you_--your love and faith and--forgiveness," he said huskily. + +"You have them all. Now give me yours, Jim." + +"I give you all--except forgiveness. I have nothing to forgive." + +"You dear boy--you don't know--you will never know how much you have to +forgive me. But if I told you, I know you'd do it. So--let it +rest--forgotten forever. How fragrant the night is growing! And I can +hear the brook at intervals when the wind changes--very far away--very +far--as far as fairyland--as far as the abode of the Maker of Moons." + +"Who was he, dear?" + +"Yu Lao. It's Chinese--and remote--lost in mystery eternal--where the +white soul of her abides who went forth 'between tall avenues of spears, +to die.' And that is where all things go at last, Jim--even the world +and the moon and stars--all things--even love--returning to the source +of all." + +His arm had fallen around her waist. Presently, in the dusk, he felt +her cool, fresh hand seeking for his, drawing his arm imperceptibly +closer. + +In the unlighted music room Cynthia's piano was silent. + +Presently Jacqueline's cheek touched his, rested against it. + +"I never knew I could feel so safe," she murmured. "I +am--absolutely--contented." + +"Do you love me?" + +"Yes." + +"You have no fear of me now?" + +"No. But don't kiss me--yet," she whispered, tightening his arm around +her. + +He laughed softly: "Your Royal Shyness is so wonderful--so wonderful--so +worshipful and adorable! When may I kiss you?" + +"When--we are alone." + +"Will you respond--when we are alone?" + +But she only pressed her flushed cheek against his shoulder, clinging +there in silence, eyes closed. + +A few seconds later they started guiltily apart, as Cairns came striding +excitedly out of the darkness: + +"I'm going to get married! I'm going to get married!" he repeated +breathlessly. "I've asked her, but she is crying! Isn't it wonderful! +Isn't it wonderful! Isn't it won----" + +"_You!_" exclaimed Jacqueline, "and Cynthia! The _darling_!" + +"I _said_ she was one! I called her that, too!" said Cairns, excitedly. +"And she began to cry. So I came out here--and I _think_ she's going to +accept me in a minute or two! Isn't it wonderful! Isn't it won----" + +"You lunatic!" cried Desboro, seizing and shaking him, "--you +incoherent idiot! If that girl is in there crying all alone, _what_ are +you doing out here?" + +"I don't know," said Cairns vacantly. "I don't know what I'm doing. All +this is too wonderful for me. I thought she knew me too well to care for +me. But she only began to cry. And I am going----" + +He bolted back into the dark music room. Desboro and Jacqueline gazed at +each other. + +"That man is mad!" snapped her husband. "But--I believe she means to +take him. Don't you?" + +"Why--I suppose so," she managed to answer, stifling a violent +inclination to laugh. + +They listened shamelessly. They stood there for a long while, listening. +And at last two shadowy figures appeared coming toward them very slowly. +One walked quietly into Jacqueline's arms; the other attempted it with +Desboro, and was repulsed. + +"You're not French, you know," said the master of the house, shaking +hands with him viciously. "Never did I see such a blooming idiot as you +can be--but if Cynthia can stand you, I'll have to try." + +Jacqueline whispered: "Cynthia and I want to be alone for a little +while. Take him away, Jim." + +So Desboro lugged off the happy but demoralised suitor and planted him +in a library chair vigorously. + +"Now," he said, "how about it? Has she accepted you?" + +"She hasn't said a word yet. I've done nothing but talk and she's done +nothing but listen. It knocked me galley west, too. But it happened +before I realised it. She was playing on the piano, and suddenly I knew +that I wanted to marry her. And I said 'You darling!' And she grew white +and began to cry." + +"Did you ask her to marry you?" + +"About a thousand times." + +"Didn't she say anything?" + +"Not a word." + +"That's odd," said Desboro, troubled. + +A few minutes later the clock struck. + +"Come on, anyway," he said, "we've scarcely time to dress." + +In his room later, tying his tie, Cairns' uncertainty clouded his own +happiness a little; and when he emerged to wait in the sitting-room for +Jacqueline, he was still worrying over it. + +When Jacqueline opened her door and saw his perplexed and anxious face, +she came forward in her pretty dinner gown, startled, wondering. + +"What is it, Jim?" she asked, her heart, still sensitive from the old, +healed wounds, sinking again in spite of her. + +"I'm worried about that girl----" + +"_What_ girl!" + +"Cynthia----" + +"Oh! _That!_ Jim, you frightened me!" She laid one hand on her heart for +a moment, breathed deeply her relief, then looked at him and laughed. + +"Silly! Of course she loves him." + +"Jack says that she didn't utter a word----" + +"She uttered several to me. Rather foolish ones, Jim--about her life's +business--the stage--and love. As though love and the business of life +were incompatible! Anyway, she'd choose him." + +"Is she going to accept him?" + +"Of course she is. I--I don't mean it in criticism--and I love +Cynthia--but I think she is a trifle temperamental--as well as being +the dearest, sweetest girl in the world----" + +She took his arm with a pretty confidence of ownership that secretly +thrilled him, and they went down stairs together, she talking all the +while. + +"Didn't I tell you?" she whispered, as they caught a glimpse of the +library in passing, where Cairns stood holding Cynthia's hands between +his own and kissing them. "Wait, Jim, darling! You mustn't interrupt +them----" + +"I'm going to!" he said, exasperated. "I want to know what they're going +to do----" + +"Jim!" + +"Oh, all right, dear. Only they gave me a good scare when I wanted to be +alone with you." + +She pressed his arm slightly: + +"You haven't noticed my gown." + +"It's a dream!" He kissed her shoulder lace, and she flushed and caught +his arm, then laughed, disconcerted by her own shyness. + +Farris presented himself with a tray of cocktails. + +"Jack! Come on!" called Desboro; and, as that gentleman sauntered into +view with Cynthia on his arm, something in the girl's delicious and +abashed beauty convinced her host. He stretched out his hand; she took +it, looking at him out of confused but sincere eyes. + +"Is it all right to wish you happiness, Cynthia?" + +"It is quite all right--thank you." + +"And to drink this H. P. W. to your health and happiness?" + +"That," she said laughingly, "is far more serious. But--you may do so, +please." + +The ceremony ended, Desboro said to Jacqueline, deprecatingly: + +"This promises to be a jolly, but a rather noisy, dinner. Do you mind?" + +And it was both--an exceedingly jolly and unusually noisy dinner for +four. Jacqueline and Cynthia both consented to taste the champagne in +honour of this occasion only; then set aside their glasses, inflexible +in their prejudice. Which boded well for everybody concerned, especially +to two young men to whom any countenance of that sort might ultimately +have proved no kindness. + +And Jacqueline was as wise as she was beautiful; and Cynthia's intuition +matched her youthful loveliness, making logic superfluous. + +Feeling desperately frivolous after coffee, they lugged out an old-time +card table and played an old-time game of cards--piquet--gambling so +recklessly that Desboro lost several cents to Cairns before the evening +was over, and Jacqueline felt that she had been dreadfully and rather +delightfully imprudent. + +Then midnight sounded from the distant stable clock, and every timepiece +in the house echoed the far Westminster chimes. + +Good-nights were said; Jacqueline went away with Cynthia to the latter's +room; Desboro accompanied Cairns, and endured the latter's rhapsodies as +long as he could, ultimately escaping. + +In their sitting-room Jacqueline was standing beside the bowl of white +carnations, looking down at them. When he entered she did not raise her +head until he took her into his arms. Then she looked up into his eyes +and lifted her face. And for the first time her warm lips responded to +his kiss. + +She trembled a little as he held her, and laid her cheek against his +breast, both hands resting on his shoulders. After a while he was aware +that her heart was beating as though she were frightened. + +"Dearest," he whispered. + +There was no answer. + +"Dearest?" + +He could feel her trembling. + +After a long while he said, very gently: "Come back and say good-night +to me when you are ready, dear." And quietly released her. + +And she went away slowly to her room, not looking at him. And did not +return. + +So at one o'clock he turned off the lights and went into his own room. +It was bright with moonlight. On his dresser lay a white carnation and a +key. But he did not see them. + +Far away in the woods he heard the stream rushing, bank full, through +the darkness, and he listened as he moved about in the moonlight. +Tranquil, he looked out at the night for a moment, then quietly composed +himself to slumber, not doubting, serene, happy, convinced that her love +was his. + +For a long while he thought of her; and, thinking, dreamed of her at +last--so vividly that into his vision stole the perfume of her hair and +the faint fresh scent of her hands, as when he had kissed the slender +fingers. And the warmth of her, too, seemed real, and the sweetness of +her breath. + +His eyes unclosed. She lay there, in her frail Chinese robe, curled up +beside him in the moonlight, her splendid hair framing a face as pale +as the flower that had fallen from her half-closed hand. And at first he +thought she was asleep. + +Then, in the moonlight, her eyes opened divinely, met his, lingered +unafraid, and were slowly veiled again. Neither stirred until, at last, +her arms stole up around his neck and her lips whispered his name as +though it were a holy name, loved, honoured, and adored. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Business of Life, by Robert W. Chambers + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43703 *** |