Kitabı oku: «The Girl From His Town», sayfa 7

“I’m not any good though, she won’t listen to a word I say.”

It seemed to surprise the dressing woman.

“I’m sorry to hear it, sir; I thought she would. She talks about you often.”

He colored like a school-boy. “Gosh, it’s a shame to have her kill herself for nothing.” Reluctant to talk longer with Mrs. Higgins, he added in spite of himself: “She seems so lonely.”

“It’s two weeks now since that human devil went away,” Mrs. Higgins said unexpectedly, looking quietly into the blue eyes of the visitor.

“She hasn’t opened one of his letters or his telegrams. She has sold every pin and brooch he ever gave her, scattered the money far and wide. You saw how she went on with Cohen, and her pearls.”

Dan heard her as through a dream. Her words gave form and existence to a dreadful thing he had been trying to deny.

“Is she hard up now, Mrs. Higgins?” he asked softly. And glancing at him to see just how far she might go, the woman said:

“An actress who spends and lives as Miss Lane does is always hard up.”

“Could you use money without her knowing about it?”

“Lord,” exclaimed the woman, “it wouldn’t be hard, sir! She only knows that there is such a thing as money when the bills come and she hasn’t got a penny. Or when the poor come! She’s got a heart of gold, sir, for everybody that is in need.”

He took out of his wallet a wad of notes and put them in Higgins’ hands. “Just pay up some bills on the sly, and don’t you tell her on your life. I don’t want her to be worried.” Explaining with sensitive understanding: “It’s all right, Mrs. Higgins; I’m from her town, you know.” And the woman who admired him and understood him, and whose life had made her keen to read things as they were, said earnestly:

“I quite understand how it is, sir. It is just as though it came straight from ’ome. She overdraws her salary months ahead.”

“Have you been with Miss Lane long?”

“Ever since she toured in Europe, and nobody could serve her without being very fond of her indeed.”

Dan put out his big warm hand eagerly. “You’re a corker, Mrs. Higgins.”

“I could walk around the world for her, sir.”

“Go ahead and do it then,” he smiled, “and I’ll pay for all the boot leather you wear out!”

As he went down-stairs, already too late to keep an engagement made with his fiancée, he stopped in the writing-room to scribble off a note of excuse to the duchess. At the opposite table Dan saw Prince Poniotowsky, writing, as well. The Hungarian did not see Blair, and when he had finished his note he called a page boy and Dan could hear him send his letter up to Miss Lane’s suite. The young Westerner thought with confident exaltation, “Well, he’ll get left all right, and I’m darned if I don’t sit here and see him turned down!”

Dan sat on until the page returned and gave Poniotowsky a verbal message.

“Will you please come up-stairs, sir?”

And Blair saw the Hungarian rise, adjust his eye-glass, and walk toward the lift.

CHAPTER XV – GALOREY GIVES ADVICE

Lord Galorey had long been used to seeing things go the way they would and should not, and his greatest effort had been attained on the day he gave his languid body the trouble to go in and see Ruggles.

“My God,” he muttered as he watched Dan and the duchess on the terrace together – they were nevertheless undeniably a handsome pair – “to think that this is the way I am returning old Blair’s hospitality!” And he was ashamed to recall his western experiences, when in a shack in the mountains he had watched the big stars come out in the heavens and sat late with old Dan Blair, delighted with the simple philosophies and the man’s high ideals.

“What the devil does it all mean?” he wondered. “She has simply seduced him, that’s all.”

He got Dan finally to himself and without any preparation began, pushing Dan back into a big leather chair, and standing up like a judge over him:

“Now, you really must listen to me, my dear chap. I shan’t rest in my grave unless I get a word with you. Your father sent you here to me and I’m damned if I know what for. I’ve been wondering every day about it for two months. He didn’t know what this set was like or how rotten it is.”

“What set?” The boy looked appallingly young as Gordon stared down at him. There wasn’t a line or wrinkle on his smooth brow or on his lips and forehead finely cut and well molded – but there were the very seals of what his father would have been glad to see. The boy had the same clear look and unspoiled frankness that had charmed Galorey at the first. He had been a lazy coward to delay so long.

“Why, the rottenness of this set right here in my house.” And as the host began to see that he should have to approach a woman’s name in speaking, he stopped short, his mouth wide open, and Dan thought he had been drinking.

“You are talking of marrying Lily,” Gordon got out.

“I am going to marry her.”

“You mustn’t.”

Blair got up out of his chair. It didn’t need this attack of Galorey’s to bring to his mind hints that had been dropped that Galorey was in love with the Duchess of Breakwater. It illuminated what Galorey was saying fast and incoherently.

“I mean to say, my dear chap, that you mustn’t marry the Duchess of Breakwater. Look at most of these European marriages. They all go to smash. She is older than you are and she has lived her life. You are much too young.”

“Hold up, Galorey; you mustn’t go on, you know. You know I am engaged; that’s all there is about it. Now, let’s go and have a game of pool.”

Galorey had not worked himself up to this pitch to break off now at a fatal point.

“I’m responsible for this, and by gad, Dan, I’m going to put you on your guard.”

“You are responsible for nothing, Galorey, and I warn you to drop it.”

“You would listen to your father if he were here, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” said the boy slowly. Then followed up with an honest, “Yes, I would.”

Gordon caught eagerly, “Well, he sent you to me. Your friend Ruggles has gone off and washed his hands of you, but I can’t.”

Lord Galorey walked across the room briskly and came back to Dan. “First of all, you are not in love with Lily – not a bit of it. You couldn’t be – and what’s more she is not in love with you.”

Blair laughed coolly. “You certainly have got things down to a fine point, Gordon. I’ll be hanged if I understand your game.”

Galorey went bravely on: “Therefore, if neither of you are in love, you understand that there is nothing between you but your money.”

The Englishman got his point out brutally, relieved that the impersonal thing money opened a way for him. He didn’t want to be the bounder and the cad that the mention of the woman would have made him.

The boy drew in an angry breath. “Gosh,” he said, “that cursed money will make me crazy yet! You are not very flattering to me, Gordon, I swear, and Lily wouldn’t thank you for the motives you impute to her.”

“Oh, rot!” returned Gordon more tranquilly. “She hasn’t got a human sentiment in her. She’s a rock with a woman’s face.”

Dan turned his back on his host and walked off into the billiard-room. Galorey promptly followed him, took down a cue and chalked it, and said:

“Well, come now; let’s put it to the test.” Blair began stacking the balls.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when you have had time to get your first news over from Ruggles, tell her you have gone to smash and that you are a pauper.”

“I don’t play tricks like that,” said the Westerner quietly.

“No,” responded Galorey bitterly, “you let others play tricks on you.”

The young man threw his cue smartly down, his youth looked contemptuously at the worldly man, and he turned pale, but he said in a low voice:

“Now, you’ve got to let up on this, Gordon; I thought at first you had been drinking. I won’t listen. Let’s get on another subject, or I’ll clear out.”

Galorey, however, cool and pitiful of the tangle in the boy’s affairs, wouldn’t let himself be angry. “You are my old chum’s boy, Dan,” he went on, “and I’m not going to stand by and see you spoil your life in silence. You are of age. You can go to the devil if you like, but you can’t go there under my roof, without a word from me.”

“Then I’ll get out from under your roof, to-night.”

“Right! I don’t blame you there, but, before you go, tell Lily you have lost your money, and see what she is made of. My dear chap” – he changed his tone to one of affection – “don’t be an ape; listen to me, for your father’s sake; remember your whole life’s happiness is in this game. Isn’t it worth looking after?”

“Not at the risk of hurting a woman’s feelings,” said the boy.

“How can it hurt her, my dear man, to tell her you are poor?”

“It’s a lie. I’m not up to lying to her; I don’t care to. And you mean to think that if I told her I was busted she would throw me over?”

“Like a shot, my green young friend – like a shot.”

“You haven’t a very good opinion of women,” Blair threw out with as near a sneer as his fine young face could express.

“No, not very,” agreed the pool player, who had continued his shots with more or less sangfroid. When Galorey had run off his string of balls he said, looking up from the table: “But I’ve got a very good opinion of that ‘nice girl’ you told me of when you first came, and I wish to Heaven she had kept you in the States.”

This caught the boy’s attention as nothing else had. “There never was any such girl,” he said slowly; “there never has been anywhere; I rather guess they don’t grow. You have made me a cad in listening to you, Gordon, but as to playing any of those comedy tricks you suggest, they are not in my line. If she is marrying me for my money, why, she’ll get it.”

“You’re a coward,” said Galorey, “like the rest of American husbands – all ideal and no common sense. You want to make a mess of your life. You haven’t the grit to get out of a bad job.”

He spurred himself on and his weak face grew strong as he felt he was compelling the boy’s attention. “If you only had half the character your father had, you wouldn’t make a mistake like this; you wouldn’t run blind into such a deal as this.”

Blair was impressed by his host. Galorey was so deadly in earnest and so honest, and, as Dan’s face grew set and hardened, his companion prayed for wisdom. “If I can only win through this without touching Lily hard,” he thought, and as he waited, Blair said:

“You haven’t hesitated to call me names, Gordon. You’re not my build or my age, and I can’t thrash you.”

And his host said cheerfully: “Oh, yes, you can; come on and try,” and, metaphorically speaking, Dan struck his first blow:

“They say – people have said to me – that you once cared for Lily yourself.”

The Englishman’s heavy eyelids did not flicker. “It’s quite true.”

Taken back by this frank response, Blair stammered: “Well, I guess that explains everything. It’s not surprising that you should feel as you do. If you are jealous, I can forgive it a little bit, but it is low down to call a woman a fortune hunter.”

Now Gordon Galorey’s face changed and grew slightly white. “Don’t make me angry, my dear chap,” he said in a low tone; “I have said what I wanted to say. Now, go to the devil if you like and as soon as you like.”

And the boy said hotly, stammering in his excitement:

“Not yet – not yet – not before I tell you what I think.”

Gordon, with wonderful control of his own anger, met the boy’s eyes, and said with great patience:

“No, don’t, Dan; don’t go on. There are many things in this affair that we can’t touch upon. Let it drop. The right woman would make a ripping man of you, but you oughtn’t to marry for ten years.”

Dan took the hand which Galorey put out to him, and the Englishman said warmly: “My dear chap, I hope it will all come out right, from my heart.”

Dan, who had regained his balance, said to his friend:

“I’ve been very angry at what you said, but you’re the chap my father sent me to. There must be something back of this, and I’m going to find out what it is, and I’m going to take my own way to find out. I wouldn’t give a rap for anything that came to me through a trick or a lie, and I wouldn’t know how to go to her with a cock-and-bull story. I shall act as I feel and go ahead being just as I am, and perhaps she won’t want me after all, even if I have got the rocks!”

And Galorey said heartily: “I wish there was a chance of it.”

When, later, Gordon thought of Dan it was with a glow. “What a chip of the old block he is,” he said; “what a good bit of character, even at twenty-two years.” He was divided between feeling that he had made a mess of things between Dan and himself, and feeling sure that some of his advice had gone home. After a moment’s silence, Dan Blair’s son said: “I’m going up to London to-morrow.”

“For long?”

“Don’t know.”

Then returning with boyish simplicity to their subject, which Galorey thought had been dropped, Dan said:

“There may be something true in what you say, Gordon. Perhaps she does want my money. I’m not a titled man and I’ll never be known for anything except my income. At any rate I was rich when I asked her to marry me, and I’m going to fix up that old place of hers, and I’m glad I’ve got the coin to do it.”

When, later, for they had been interrupted in their conversation by the entrance of the lady herself, Gordon, as Ruggles had done, mentally thought of the flowing tide of life, and how it flowed over what he himself had called “rotten ground.” Perhaps old Blair was right, he mused, after all. What does it matter if the source is pure at the head water? It’s awfully hard to force it at the start, at least.

CHAPTER XVI – THE MUSICALE PROGRAM

The duchess ran Dan, made plans, set the pace, and they were very much in evidence during the season. The young American, good-natured and generous, the duchess beautiful and knowing, were the observed of London, and those of her friends who would have tolerated Dan on account of his money, ended by sincerely liking him. The wedding-day had not been fixed as yet, and Dan was not so violently carried away that he could not wait to be married. Meanwhile Gordon Galorey thanked God for the delay and hoped for a miracle to break the spell over his friend’s son before it should be too late. In early May the question came up regarding the musicale. The duchess made her list and arranged the Sunday afternoon and her performers to suit her taste, and the week before lounged in her boudoir when Dan and Galorey appeared for a late morning call.

“There, Dan,” she said, holding out a bit of paper, “look at the list and the program, will you?”

“Sounds and reads all right,” commented Dan, handing it on to Galorey.

Besides being an artistic event, she intended that the concert should serve to present Dan to her special set. She now lit a cigarette and gave one to each of her friends, lighting the Englishman’s herself.

“The best names in London,” Lord Galorey said. “You see, Dan, we shall trot you out in a royal way. I hope you fully appreciate how swagger this is to be.”

Glancing at the list Blair remarked:

“But I don’t see Miss Lane’s name?”

“Why should you?” the duchess answered sharply.

“Why, we planned all along that she was to sing,” he returned.

She gave a long puff to her cigarette.

“We did rather speak of it. But we shall do very well as we are. The program is full up and it’s perfectly ripping as it stands.”

“Yes, there’s only just one thing the matter with it,” the boy smiled good-naturedly, “and it’s easy enough to run her in. I guess Miss Lane could be run in most anywhere on any program and not clear the house.”

Lord Galorey, who knew nothing about the subject under discussion, said tactfully: “Why, of course, Letty Lane is perfectly charming, but you couldn’t get her, my dear chap.”

“I think we will let the thing stand as it is,” said the duchess, going back to her desk and stirring her paper about. “It’s really too late now, you know, Dan.”

Unruffled, but with a determination which Lord Galorey and the lady were far from guessing, Blair resumed tranquilly:

“Oh, I guess she’ll come in all right, late as it is. We’ll send word to her and fix it up.”

The duchess turned to him, annoyed: “Oh, don’t be a beastly bore, dear – you are not really serious.”

Dan still smiled at her sweetly. “You bet your life I am, though, Lily.”

She rang a bell at the side of her desk, and when the footman came in gave him the sheet of paper. “See that this is taken at once to the stationer’s.”

“Better wait, Lily” – her fiancé extended his hand – “until the program is filled out the way it is going to stand.” And Blair fixed his handsome eyes on his future wife. “Why, we got this shindig up,” he noted irreverently, “just so Miss Lane could sing at it.”

“Nonsense,” she cried, angry and powerless, “you ridiculous creature! Fancy me getting up a musicale for Letty Lane! Do tell Dan to stop bothering and fussing, Gordon. He’s too ridiculous!”

And Lord Galorey said: “What is the row anyway?”

“Why, I want Miss Lane to sing here on Sunday,” Dan explained…

“And I don’t want her,” finished the Duchess of Breakwater, who was evidently unwilling to force a scene before Lord Galorey. She handed the list to her servant, but Dan intercepted it.

“Don’t send out that list, Lily, as it is.”

He gave it back to her, and his tone was so cool, his expression so decided and quiet, that she was disarmed, and dismissed the servant, telling him to return when she should ring again. Coloring with anger, she tapped the envelope against her brilliantly polished nails.

If she had been married to Blair she would have burst into a violent rage; if he had been poorer than he was she would have put him in his place. Lord Galorey understood the contraction of her brows and lips as Dan reminded: “You promised me that you would have her, you know, Lily.”

“Give in, Lily,” Galorey advised, rising from the chair where he was lounging. “Give in gracefully.”

And she turned on Galorey the anger which she dared not show the other man. But Dan interrupted her, explaining simply:

“I knew the girl when she was a kid: she is from my old home, and I want Lily to ask her here to sing for us, and then to see if we can’t do something to get her out of the state she is in.”

Galorey repeated vaguely, “State?”

“Why, she’s all run down, tired out; she’s got no real friends in London.”

The other man flicked the ash from his cigarette and looked at Blair’s boy through his monocle.

“And you thought that Lily might befriend her, old chap?”

“Yes,” nodded Dan, “just give her a lift, you know.”

Galorey nodded back, smiling gently. “I see, I see – a moral, spiritual lift? I see – I see.” He glanced at the woman with his strange smile.

She put her cigarette down and seated herself, clasping her hands around her knees and looked at her fiancé.

“It’s none of my business what Letty Lane’s reputation is. I don’t care, but you must understand one thing, Dan, I’m not a reformer, or a charitable institution, and if she comes here it is purely professional.”

He took the subject as settled, and asked for a copy of the program and put it in his pocket. “I’ll get the names of her songs from her and take the thing myself to Harrison’s. And I’d better hustle, I guess; there’s no time to lose between now and Sunday.” And he went out triumphant.

Galorey remained, smoking, and the duchess continued her notes in silence, cooling down at her desk. Her companion knew her too well to speak to her until she had herself in hand, and when finally she took up her pen and turned about, she appeared conscious for the first of his presence.

“Here still!” she exclaimed.

“I thought I might do for a safety valve, Lily. You could let some of your anger out on me.”

The duchess left her desk and came over to him.

“I expect you despise me thoroughly, don’t you, Gordon?”

They had not been alone together since her engagement to Blair, for she had taken pains to avoid every opportunity for a tête-à-tête.

“Despise you?” he repeated gently. “It’s awfully hard, isn’t it, for a chap like me to despise anybody? We’re none of us used to the best quality of behavior, you know, my dear girl.”

“Don’t talk rot, Gordon,” she murmured.

“You didn’t ask my advice,” he continued, “but I don’t hesitate to tell you that I have done everything I could to save the boy.”

She accepted this philosophically. “Oh, I knew you would; I quite expected it, but – ” and in the look she threw at him there was more liking than resentment – “I knew you, too; you couldn’t go very far, my dear fellow.”

“I think Dan Blair is excellent stuff,” Gordon said.

“He is the greenest, youngest, most ridiculous infant,” she exclaimed with irritation, and he laughed.

“His money is old enough to walk, however, isn’t it, Lily?” She made an angry gesture.

“I expected you’d say something loathsome.”

Her companion met her eyes directly. She left her chair and came and sat down beside him on the small sofa. As he did not move, or look at her, but regarded his cigarette with interest, she leaned close to him and whispered: “Gordon, try to be nice and decent. Try to forget yourself. Don’t you see what a wonderful chance it is for me, and that, as far as you and I are concerned, it can’t go on?”

The face of the man by her side grew somber. The charm this woman had for him had never lessened since the day when he told her he loved her, long before his marriage, and they were both too poor.

“We have always been too poor, and Edith is jealous of me every day and hour of her life. Can’t you be generous?”

He rose and stood over her, looking down at her beautiful form and her somewhat softened face, but his eyes were hard and his face very pale.

“You had better go, Gordon,” she said slowly; “you had better go…”

Then, as he obeyed her and went like a flash as far as the door, she followed him and whispered softly: “If you’re really only jealous, I can forgive you.”

He managed to get out: “His father was my friend; he sent the boy to me and I’ve been a bad guardian.” He made a gesture of despair. “Put yourself in my place. Let Dan Blair go, Lily; let him go.”

Her eyelids flickered a little, and she said sharply: “You’re out of your senses, Gordon – and what if I love him?”

With a low exclamation he caught her hand at the wrist so hard that she cried out, and he said between his teeth: “You don’t love him! Take those words back!”

“Of course I do. Let me free!”

“No,” he said passionately, holding her fast. “Not until you take that back.”

His face, his tone, his force, dominated her; the remembrance of their past, a possible future, made her waver under his eyes, and the woman smiled at him as Blair had never seen her smile.

“Very well, then, goose,” she capitulated almost tenderly; “I don’t love that boy, of course. I’m marrying him for his money. Now, will you let me go?”

But he held her still more firmly and kissed her several times before he finally set her free, and went out of the house miserable – bound to her by the strongest chains – bound in his conscience and by honor to his trust to Dan’s father, and yet handicapped by another sense of honor which decrees that man must keep silence to the end.