CHAPTER XII.
ACHIEVEMENTS.
There are some folk born to beauty, And some to plenteous gold, Some who are proud of being young, Some proud of being old.
Some who are glad of happy love, Enduring, deep and true, And some who thoroughly enjoy The little things they do.
Upon all this Grandma Pettigrew cast an observant eye, and meditatedsagely thereupon. Coming to a decision, she first took a course ofreading in some of Dr. Bellair's big books, and then developed aseries of perplexing symptoms, not of a too poignant or perilousnature, that took her to Dr. Hale's office frequently.
"You haven't repudiated Dr. Bellair, have you?" he asked her.
"I have never consulted Jane Bellair as a physician," she replied,"though I esteem her much as a friend."
The old lady's company was always welcome to him; he liked herpenetrating eye, her close-lipped, sharp remarks, and appreciated thereal kindness of her heart.
If he had known how closely she was peering into the locked recessesof his own, and how much she saw there, he would perhaps have avoidedher as he did Vivian, and if he had known further that this ingeniousold lady, pursuing long genealogical discussions with him, had finallyunearthed a mutual old-time friend, and had forthwith started acorrespondence with that friend, based on this common acquaintance inCarston, he might have left that city.
The old-time friend, baited by Mrs. Pettigrew's innocent comment on Dr.Hale's persistence in single blessedness, poured forth what she knew ofthe cause with no more embellishment than time is sure to give.
"I know why he won't marry," wrote she. "He had reason good to beginwith, but I never dreamed he'd be obstinate enough to keep it upsixteen years. When he was a boy in college here I knew him well--hewas a splendid fellow, one of the very finest. But he fell desperatelyin love with that beautiful Mrs. James--don't you remember about her?She married a St. Cloud later, and he left her, I think. She was aslovely as a cameo--and as hard and flat. That woman was the saintliestthing that ever breathed. She wouldn't live with her husband becausehe had done something wrong; she wouldn't get a divorce, nor let him,because that was wicked--and she always had a string of boys roundher, and talked about the moral influence she had on them.
"Young Hale worshipped her--simply worshipped her--and she let him.She let them all. She had that much that was god-like about her--sheloved incense. You need not ask for particulars. She was far too'particular' for that. But one light-headed chap went and drownedhimself--that was all hushed up, of course, but some of us felt prettysure why. He was a half-brother to Dick Hale, and Dick was awfullyfond of him. Then he turned hard and hateful all at once--used to talkhorrid about women. He kept straight enough--that's easy for amysogynist, and studying medicine didn't help him any--doctors andministers know too much about women. So there you are. But I'mastonished to hear he's never gotten over it; he always wasobstinate--it's his only fault. They say he swore never to marry--ifhe did, that accounts. Do give my regards if you see him again."
Mrs. Pettigrew considered long and deeply over this information, as sheslowly produced a jersey striped with Roman vividness. It was noticeablein this new life in Carston that Mrs. Pettigrew's knitted jackets hadgrown steadily brighter in hue from month to month. Whereas, inBainville, purple and brown were the high lights, and black, slate andnavy blue the main colors; now her worsteds were as a painter's palette,and the result not only cheered, but bade fair to inebriate.
"A pig-headed man," she said to herself, as her needle proddedsteadily in and out; "a pig-headed man, with a pig-headedness ofsixteen years' standing. His hair must 'a turned gray from the strainof it. And there's Vivian, biddin' fair to be an old maid after all.What on _earth_!" She appeared to have forgotten that marriages aremade in heaven, or to disregard that saying. "The Lord helps thosethat help themselves," was one of her favorite mottoes. "And much morethose that help other people!" she used to add.
Flitting in and out of Dr. Hale's at all hours, she noted that he hada fondness for music, with a phenomenal incapacity to produce any. Heencouraged his boys to play on any and every instrument the townafforded, and to sing, whether they could or not; and seemed never toweary of their attempts, though far from satisfied with the product.
"Huh!" said Mrs. Pettigrew.
Vivian could play, "Well enough to know better," she said, and seldomtouched the piano. She had a deep, full, contralto voice, and a fairdegree of training. But she would never make music unless she feltlike it--and in this busy life, with so many people about her, she hadalways refused.
Grandma meditated.
She selected an evening when most of the boarders were out at someentertainment, and selfishly begged Vivian to stay at home withher--said she was feeling badly and wanted company. Grandma so seldomwanted anything that Vivian readily acquiesced; in fact, she was quiteworried about her, and asked Dr. Bellair if she thought anything wasthe matter.
"She has seemed more quiet lately," said that astute lady, "and I'venoticed her going in to Dr. Hale's during office hours. But perhapsit's only to visit with him."
"Are you in any pain, Grandma?" asked the girl, affectionately."You're not sick, are you?"
"O, no--I'm not sick," said the old lady, stoutly. "I'm just--well, Ifelt sort of lonesome to-night--perhaps I'm homesick."
As she had never shown the faintest sign of any feeling for theirdeserted home, except caustic criticism and unfavorable comparison,Vivian rather questioned this theory, but she began to think there wassomething in it when her grandmother, sitting by the window in thespring twilight, began to talk of how this time of year always madeher think of her girlhood.
"Time for the March peepers at home. It's early here, and no peepersanywhere that I've heard. 'Bout this time we'd be going to eveningmeeting. Seems as if I could hear that little old organ--and thesinging!"
"Hadn't I better shut that window," asked Vivian. "Won't you get cold?"
"No, indeed," said her grandmother, promptly. "I'm plenty warm--I'vegot this little shawl around me. And it's so soft and pleasant out."
It was soft and pleasant, a delicious May-like night in March, full ofspring scents and hints of coming flowers. On the dark piazza across theway she could make out a still figure sitting alone, and the thump ofBalzac's heel as he struggled with his intimate enemies told her who itwas.
"Come Ye Disconsolate," she began to hum, most erroneously. "How doesthat go, Vivian? I was always fond of it, even if I can't sing anymore'n a peacock."
Vivian hummed it and gave the words in a low voice.
"That's good!" said the old lady. "I declare, I'm kinder hungry forsome of those old hymns. I wish you'd play me some of 'em, Vivian."
So Vivian, glad to please her, woke the yellow keys to softer musicthan they were accustomed to, and presently her rich, low voice, sure,easy, full of quiet feeling, flowed out on the soft night air.
Grandma was not long content with the hymns. "I want some of thoseold-fashioned songs--you used to know a lot of 'em. Can't you do that'Kerry Dance' of Molloy's, and 'Twickenham Ferry'--and 'LaurigerHoratius?'"
Vivian gave her those, and many another, Scotch ballads, English songsand German Lieder--glad to please her grandmother so easily, and quiteunconscious of a dark figure which had crossed the street and comesilently to sit on the farthest corner of their piazza.
Grandma, meanwhile, watched him, and Vivian as well, and then, with themost unsuspected suddenness, took to her bed. Sciatica, she said. Anintermittent pain that came upon her so suddenly she couldn't stand up.She felt much better lying down. And Dr. Hale must attend herunceasingly.
This unlooked for overthrow of the phenomenally active old lady was agreat blow to Mr. Skee; he showed real concern and begged to beallowed to see her.
"Why not?" said Mrs. Pettigrew. "It's nothing catching."
She lay, high-pillowed, as stiff and well arranged as a Knight Templaron a tombstone, arrayed for the occasion in a most dec
orative littledressing sack and ribbony night-cap.
"Why, ma'am," said Mr. Skee, "it's highly becomin' to you to be sick.It leads me to hope it's nothin' serious."
She regarded him enigmatically. "Is Dr. Hale out there, or Vivian?"she inquired in a low voice.
"No, ma'am--they ain't," he replied, after a glance in the next room.
Then he bent a penetrating eye upon her. She met it unflinchingly, butas his smile appeared and grew, its limitless widening spreadcontagion, and her calm front was broken.
"Elmer Skee," said she, with sudden fury, "you hold your tongue!"
"Ma'am!" he replied, "I have said nothin'--and I don't intend to. Butif the throne of Europe was occupied by you, Mrs. Pettigrew, we wouldhave a better managed world."
He proved a most agreeable and steady visitor during this period ofconfinement, and gave her full accounts of all that went on outside,with occasional irrelevant bursts of merriment which no rebuke fromMrs. Pettigrew seemed wholly to check.
He regaled her with accounts of his continuous consultations with Mrs.St. Cloud, and the wisdom and good taste with which she invariablyadvised him.
"Don't you admire a Platonic Friendship, Mrs. Pettigrew?"
"I do not!" said the old lady, sharply. "And what's more I don'tbelieve you do."
"Well, ma'am," he answered, swaying backward and forward on the hindlegs of his chair, "there are moments when I confess it looksimprobable."
Mrs. Pettigrew cocked her head on one side and turned a gimlet eyeupon him. "Look here, Elmer Skee," she said suddenly, "how much moneyhave you really got?"
He brought down his chair on four legs and regarded her for a fewmoments, his smile widening slowly. "Well, ma'am, if I live throughthe necessary expenses involved on my present undertaking, I shallhave about two thousand a year--if rents are steady."
"Which I judge you do not wish to be known?"
"If there's one thing more than another I have always admired in you,ma'am, it is the excellence of your judgment. In it I have absoluteconfidence."
Mrs. St. Cloud had some time since summoned Dr. Hale to her side for asevere headache, but he had merely sent word that his time was fullyoccupied, and recommended Dr. Bellair.
Now, observing Mrs. Pettigrew's tactics, the fair invalid resolved totake the bull by the horns and go herself to his office. She found himeasily enough. He lifted his eyes as she entered, rose and stood withfolded arms regarding her silently. The tall, heavy figure, the fullbeard, the glasses, confused even her excellent memory. After all it wasmany years since they had met, and he had been but one of a multitude.
She was all sweetness and gentle apology for forcing herself upon him,but really she had a little prejudice against women doctors--hisreputation was so great--he was so temptingly near--she was in suchpain--she had such perfect confidence in him--
He sat down quietly and listened, watching her from under his bentbrows. Her eyes were dropped, her voice very weak and appealing; herwords most perfectly chosen.
"I have told you," he said at length, "that I never treat women fortheir petty ailments, if I can avoid it."
She shook her head in grieved acceptance, and lifted large eyes forone of those penetrating sympathetic glances so frequently successful.
"How you must have suffered!" she said.
"I have," he replied grimly. "I have suffered a long time from havingmy eyes opened too suddenly to the brainless cruelty of women, Mrs.James."
She looked at him again, searchingly, and gave a little cry. "DickHale!" she said.
"Yes, Dick Hale. Brother to poor little Joe Medway, whose foolishyoung heart you broke, among others; whose death you are responsiblefor."
She was looking at him with widening wet eyes. "Ah! If you only knewhow I, too, have suffered over that!" she said. "I was scarce morethan a girl myself, then. I was careless, not heartless. No one knewwhat pain I was bearing, then. I liked the admiration of those niceboys--I never realized any of them would take it seriously. That hasbeen a heavy shadow on my life, Dr. Hale--the fear that I was thethoughtless cause of that terrible thing. And you have never forgivenme. I do not wonder."
He was looking at her in grim silence again, wishing he had notspoken.
"So that is why you have never been to The Cottonwoods since I came,"she pursued. "And I am responsible for all your loneliness. O, howdreadful!"
Again he rose to his feet.
"No, madam, you mistake. You were responsible for my brother's death,and for a bitter awakening on my part, but you are in no wayresponsible for my attitude since. That is wholly due to myself. Allowme again to recommend Dr. Jane Bellair, an excellent physician andeven more accessible."
He held the door for her, and she went out, not wholly dissatisfiedwith her visit. She would have been far more displeased could she havefollowed his thoughts afterward.
"What a Consummate Ass I have been all my life!" he was meditating."Because I met this particular type of sex parasite, to deliberatelygo sour--and forego all chance of happiness. Like a silly girl. Afool girl who says, 'I will never marry!' just because of some quarrel* * * But the girl never keeps her word. A man must."
The days were long to Vivian now, and dragged a little, for all herindustry.
Mrs. St. Cloud tried to revive their former intimacy, but the girl couldnot renew it on the same basis. She, too, had sympathized with Mr.Dykeman, and now sympathized somewhat with Mr. Skee. But since thatworthy man still volubly discoursed on Platonism, and his fair friendopenly agreed in this view, there seemed no real ground for distress.
Mrs. Pettigrew remained ailing and rather captious. She had atelephone put at her bedside, and ran her household affairsefficiently, with Vivian as lieutenant, and the ever-faithful Jeanneto uphold the honor of the cuisine. Also she could consult herphysician, and demanded his presence at all hours.
He openly ignored Mrs. St. Cloud now, who met his rude treatment withsecret, uncomplaining patience.
Vivian spoke of this. "I do not see why he need be so rude, Grandma. Hemay hate women, but I don't see why he should treat her so shamefully."
"Well, I do," replied the invalid, "and what's more I'm going to showyou; I've always disliked that woman, and now I know why. I'd turnher out of the house if it wasn't for Elmer Skee. That man's as goodas gold under all his foolishness, and if he can get any satisfactionout of that meringue he's welcome. Dr. Hale doesn't hate women, child,but a woman broke his heart once--and then he made an idiot of himselfby vowing never to marry."
She showed her friend's letter, and Vivian read it with rising color."O, Grandma! Why that's worse than I ever thought--even after what Dr.Bellair told us. And it was his brother! No wonder he's so fond ofboys. He tries to warn them, I suppose."
"Yes, and the worst of it is that he's really got over his grouch; andhe's in love--but tied down by that foolish oath, poor man."
"Is he, Grandma? How do you know? With whom?"
"You dear, blind child!" said the old lady, "with you, of course. Hasbeen ever since we came."
The girl sat silent, a strange feeling of joy rising in her heart, asshe reviewed the events of the last two years. So that was why hewould not stay that night. And that was why. "No wonder he wouldn'tcome here!" she said at length. "It's on account of that woman. Butwhy did he change?"
"Because she went over there to see him. He wouldn't come to her. Iheard her 'phone to him one evening." The old lady chuckled. "So shemarched herself over there--I saw her, and I guess she got herneedin's. She didn't stay long. And his light burned till morning."
"Do you think he cares for her, still?"
"Cares for her!" The old lady fairly snorted her derision. "He can'tbear the sight of her--treats her as if she wasn't there. No, indeed.If he did she'd have him fast enough, now. Well! I suppose he'llrepent of that foolishness of his all the days of his life--and stickit out! Poor man."
Mrs. Pettigrew sighed, and Vivian echoed the sigh. She began toobserve Dr. Hale with new eyes; to study little ma
tters of tone andmanner--and could not deny her grandmother's statement. Nor would sheadmit it--yet.
The old lady seemed weaker and more irritable, but positively forbadeany word of this being sent to her family.
"There's nothing on earth ails me," she said. "Dr. Hale says there'snot a thing the matter that he can see--that if I'd only eat more I'dget stronger. I'll be all right soon, my dear. I'll get my appetiteand get well, I have faith to believe."
She insisted on his coming over in the evening, when not too busy, andstaying till she dropped asleep, and he seemed strangely willing tohumor her; sitting for hours in the quiet parlor, while Vivian playedsoftly, and sang her low-toned hymns.
So sitting, one still evening, when for some time no fretful "not soloud" had come from the next room, he turned suddenly to Vivian andasked, almost roughly--"Do you hold a promise binding?--an oath, avow--to oneself?"
She met his eyes, saw the deep pain there, the long combat, theirrepressible hope and longing.
"Did you swear to keep your oath secret?" she asked.
"Why, no," he said, "I did not. I will tell you. I did not swear neverto tell a woman I loved her. I never dreamed I should love again.Vivian, I was fool enough to love a shallow, cruel woman, once, andnearly broke my heart in consequence. That was long years ago. I havenever cared for a woman since--till I met you. And now I must paydouble for that boy folly."
He came to her and took her hand.
"I love you," he said, his tense grip hurting her. "I shall love you aslong as I live--day and night--forever! You shall know that at anyrate!"
She could not raise her eyes. A rich bright color rose to the softborder of her hair. He caught her face in his hands and made her lookat him; saw those dark, brilliant eyes softened, tear-filled, asking,and turned sharply away with a muffled cry.
"I have taken a solemn oath," he said in a strained, hard voice,"never to ask a woman to marry me."
He heard a little gasping laugh, and turned upon her. She stood theresmiling, her hands reached out to him.
"You don't have to," she said.
* * * * *
A long time later, upon their happy stillness broke a faint voice fromthe other room:
"Vivian, I think if you'd bring me some bread and butter--and a cup oftea--and some cold beef and a piece of pie--I could eat it."
* * * * *
Upon the rapid and complete recovery of her grandmother's health, andthe announcement of Vivian's engagement, Mr. and Mrs. Lane decided tomake a visit to their distant mother and daughter, hoping as well thatMr. Lane's cough might be better for a visit in that altitude. Mr. andMrs. Dykeman also sent word of their immediate return.
Jeanne, using subtle powers of suggestion, caused Mrs. Pettigrew todecide upon giving a dinner, in honor of these events. There was thebetrothed couple, there were the honored guests; there were Jimmie andSusie, with or without the baby; there were the Dykemans; there wasDr. Bellair, of course; there was Mr. Skee, an even number.
"I'm sorry to spoil that table, but I've got to take in Mrs. St.Cloud," said the old lady.
"O, Grandma! Why! It'll spoil it for Dick."
"Huh!" said her grandmother. "He's so happy you couldn't spoil it witha mummy. If I don't ask her it'll spoil it for Mr. Skee."
So Mrs. St. Cloud made an eleventh at the feast, and neither Mr.Dykeman nor Vivian could find it in their happy hearts to care.
Mr. Skee arose, looking unusually tall and shapely in immaculateevery-day dress, his well-brushed hair curling vigorously around thelittle bald spots; his smile wide and benevolent.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, both Domestic and Foreign, Friends andFellowtownsmen and Women--Ladies, God Bless 'em; also Children, ifany: I feel friendly enough to-night to include the beasts of thefields--but such would be inappropriate at this convivial board--amongthese convivial boarders.
"This is an occasion of great rejoicing. We have many things torejoice over, both great _and_ small. We have our healths; all of us,apparently. We are experiencing the joys of reunion--in the matter ofvisiting parents that is, and long absent daughters.
"We have also the Return of the Native, in the shape of my old friendAndy--now become a Benedict--and seeming to enjoy it. About this sameAndy I have a piece of news to give you which will cause youastonishment and gratification, but which involves me in a profuseapology--a most sincere and general apology.
"You know how a year or more ago it was put about in this town thatAndrew Dykeman was a ruined man?" Mrs. St. Cloud darted a swift glanceat Mr. Dykeman, but his eyes rested calmly on his wife; then at Mr.Skee--but he was pursuing his remorseful way.
"I do not wish to blame my friend Andy for his reticence--but hecertainly did exhibit reticence on this occasion--to beat the band! Henever contradicted this rumor--not once. _He_ just went about lookingkind o' down in the mouth for some reason or other, and when for thesake o' Auld Lang Syne I offered him a job in my office--the cuss tookit! I won't call this deceitful, but it sure was reticent to a degree.
"Well, Ladies--and Gentlemen--the best of us are liable to mistakes,and I have to admit--I am glad to humble myself and make this publicadmission--I was entirely in error in this matter.
"It wasn't so. There was nothing in it. It was rumor, pure and simple.Andy Dykeman never lost no mine, it appears; or else he had another uphis sleeve concealed from his best friends. Anyhow, the facts arethese; not only that A. Dykeman as he sits before you is a prosperousand wealthy citizen, but that he has been, for these ten years back,and we were all misled by a mixture of rumor and reticence. If he hasconcealed these facts from the wife of his bosom I submit that that iscarrying reticence too far!" Again Mrs. St. Cloud sent a swift glanceat the reticent one, and again caught only his tender apologetic looktoward his wife, and her utter amazement.
Mr. Dykeman rose to his feet.
"I make no apologies for interrupting my friend," he said. "It isnecessary at times. He at least can never be accused of reticence.Neither do I make apologies for letting rumor take its course--acourse often interesting to observe. But I do apologize--in thisheartfelt and public manner, to my wife, for marrying her under falsepretenses. But any of you gentlemen who have ever had any experiencein the attitude of," he hesitated mercifully, and said, "the World,toward a man with money, may understand what it meant to me, aftermany years of bachelorhood, to find a heart that not only loved me formyself alone, but absolutely loved me better because I'd lost mymoney--or she thought I had. I have hated to break the charm. But nowmy unreticent friend here has stated the facts, and I make myconfession. Will you forgive me, Orella?"
"Speech! Speech!" cried Mr. Skee. But Mrs. Dykeman could not bepersuaded to do anything but blush and smile and squeeze her husband'shand under the table, and Mr. Skee arose once more.
"This revelation being accomplished," he continued cheerfully; "and noone any the worse for it, as I see," he was not looking in thedirection of Mrs. St. Cloud, whose slippered foot beat softly underthe table, though her face wore its usual sweet expression, possibly atrifle strained; "I now proceed to a proclamation of that happy eventto celebrate which we are here gathered together. I allude to theBetrothal of Our Esteemed Friend, Dr. Richard Hale, and the Fairest ofthe Fair! Regarding the Fair, we think he has chosen well. Butregarding Dick Hale, his good fortune is so clear, so evidentlyundeserved, and his pride and enjoyment thereof so ostentatious, as toleave us some leeway to make remarks.
"Natural remarks, irresistible remarks, as you might say, and notintended to be acrimonious. Namely, such as these: It's a long lanethat has no turning; There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip;The worm will turn; The pitcher that goes too often to the well getsbroken at last; Better Late than Never. And so on and so forth. Anyother gentleman like to make remarks on this topic?"
Dr. Hale rose, towering to his feet.
"I think I'd better make them," he said. "No one else could so fully,so heartily, with such perfect kn
owledge point out how many kinds of afool I've been for all these years. And yet of them all there are onlytwo that I regret--this last two in which if I had been wiser, perhapsI might have found my happiness sooner. As that cannot be proven,however, I will content myself with the general acknowledgment thatBachelors are Misguided Bats, I myself having long been the worstinstance; women, in general, are to be loved and honored; and that Iam proud and glad to accept your congratulations because the sweetestand noblest woman in the world has honored me with her love."
"I never dreamed you could put so many words together, Doc--and reallymake sense!" said Mr. Skee, genially, as he rose once more. "Youcertainly show a proper spirit at last, and all is forgiven. But now,my friends; now if your attention is not exhausted, I have yet anotherEvent to confide to you."
Mr. and Mrs. Lane wore an aspect of polite interest. Susie and Jimlooked at each other with a sad but resigned expression. So did Mrs.Dykeman and her husband. Vivian's hand was in her lover's and shecould not look unhappy, but they, too, deprecated this lastannouncement, only too well anticipated. Only Mrs. St. Cloud, her fairface bowed in gentle confusion, showed anticipating pleasure.
Mr. Skee waved his hand toward her with a large and graceful gesture.
"You must all of you have noticed the amount of Platonic Friendshipwhich has been going on for some time between my undeserving self andthis lovely lady here. Among so many lovely ladies perhaps I'd betterspecify that I refer to the one on my left.
"What she has been to me, in my lonely old age, none of you perhapsrealize." He wore an expression as of one long exiled, knowing no onewho could speak his language.
"She has been my guide, counsellor and friend; she has assisted mewith advice most wise and judicious; she has not interfered with myhabits, but has allowed me to enjoy life in my own way, with theadded attraction of her companionship.
"Now, I dare say, there may have been some of you who have questionedmy assertion that this friendship was purely Platonic. Perhaps eventhe lady herself, knowing the heart of man, may have doubted if myfeeling toward her was really friendship."
Mr. Skee turned his head a little to one side and regarded her with atender inquiring smile.
To this she responded sweetly: "Why no, Mr. Skee, of course, Ibelieved what you said."
"There, now," said he, admiringly. "What is so noble as the soul ofwoman? It is to this noble soul in particular, and to all my friendshere in general, that I now confide the crowning glory of a long andcheckered career, namely, and to wit, that I am engaged to be marriedto that Peerless Lady, Mrs. Servilla Pettigrew, of whose remarkablecapacities and achievements I can never sufficiently express myadmiration."
A silence fell upon the table. Mr. Skee sat down smiling, evidently incheerful expectation of congratulations. Mrs. Pettigrew wore an alertexpression, as of a skilled fencer preparing to turn any offeredthrusts. Mrs. St. Cloud seemed to be struggling with some emotion,which shook her usual sweet serenity. The others, too, were visiblyaffected, and not quick to respond.
Then did Mr. Saunders arise with real good nature and ever-ready wit;and pour forth good-humored nonsense with congratulations all around,till a pleasant atmosphere was established, in which Mrs. St. Cloudcould so far recover as to say many proper and pretty things; sadlyadding that she regretted her imminent return to the East would end somany pleasant friendships.
* * * * *