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diff --git a/43703-8.txt b/43703-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 968cdbb..0000000 --- a/43703-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17386 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Business of Life, by Robert W. Chambers - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Business of Life - -Author: Robert W. Chambers - -Illustrator: Charles Dana Gibson - -Release Date: September 12, 2013 [EBook #43703] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSINESS OF LIFE *** - - - - -Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from -scanned images of public domain material from the Google -Print archive. - - - - - - - - - -[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 ą 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 -Sčvres 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 naļve 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 genouillčres 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 Grčve." - -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 rōle 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 reėntered 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 _ą 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 -anęsthetise 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 reėstablishing 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-ą-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 faļence 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 Fźte - 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 Mźng Hao-Jan's "A Friend Expected," from "The Maker -of Moons," and the quatrains of the lovely, naļve 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-Chźn 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 rōle 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 naļve 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 naļve 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 Fźng-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 rōles, 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 naļvely. 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 faēade 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 confrčre, 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 rōle 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 naļvely, "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 preėminent 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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSINESS OF LIFE *** - -***** This file should be named 43703-8.txt or 43703-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/0/43703/ - -Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from -scanned images of public domain material from the Google -Print archive. - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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