CHAPTER VII.
SIDE LIGHTS.
High shines the golden shield in front, To those who are not blind; And clear and bright In all men's sight, The silver shield behind.
In breadth and sheen each face is seen; How tall it is, how wide; But its thinness shows To only those Who stand on either side.
Theophile wept aloud in the dining-room, nursing one hand in theother, like a hurt monkey.
Most of the diners had departed, but Professor Toomey and Mr. Cuthbertstill lingered about Miss Susie's corner, to the evident displeasureof Mr. Saunders, who lingered also.
Miss Susie smiled upon them all; and Mr. Saunders speculated endlesslyas to whether this was due to her general friendliness of disposition,to an interest in pleasing her aunt's boarders, to personal preference,or, as he sometimes imagined, to a desire to tease him.
Morton was talking earnestly with Vivian at the other end of thetable, from which the two angular waitresses had some time sinceremoved the last plate. One of them opened the swing door a crack andthrust her head in.
"He's burnt his hand," she said, "and his Ma's out. We don't dare gonear him." Both of these damsels professed great terror of the poorboy, though he was invariably good natured, and as timid as a rabbit.
"Do get the doctor!" cried Susie, nervously; she never felt at easewith Theophile.
"Dr. Bellair, I fear, is not in her office," Professor Toomeyannounced. "We might summon Dr. Hale."
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Cuthbert, rising heavily. "He's a great baby,that's all. Here! Quit that howling and show me your hand!"
He advanced upon Theophile, who fled toward Vivian. Morton rose in herdefence. "Get out!" he said, "Go back to the kitchen. There's nothingthe matter with you."
"Wait till you get burned, and see if you think it's nothing," JimmySaunders remarked with some acidity. He did not like Mr. Elder. "Comehere youngster, let me see it."
But the boy was afraid of all of them, and cowered in a corner, stillbawling. "Stop your noise," Mr. Cuthbert shouted, "Get out of this, orI'll put you out."
Vivian rose to her feet. "You will do nothing of the kind. If you, allof you, will go away, I can quiet Theophile, myself."
Susie went promptly. She had every confidence in her friend'smanagement. Mr. Cuthbert was sulky, but followed Susie; and Mr.Saunders, after some hesitation, followed Susie, too.
Morton lingered, distrustful.
"Please go, Morton. I know how to manage him. Just leave us alone,"Vivian urged.
"You'd better let me put him out, and keep him out, till the old womancomes back," Morton insisted.
"You mean kindly, I don't doubt, but you're making me very angry,"said the girl, flushing; and he reluctantly left the room. ProfessorToomey had departed long since, to fulfill his suggestion of callingDr. Hale, but when that gentleman appeared, he found that Vivian hadquieted the boy, stayed him with flagons and comforted him withapples, as it were, and bound up his hand in wet cooking soda.
"It's not a very bad burn," she told the doctor, "but it hurt, and hewas frightened. He is afraid of everybody but his mother, and the menwere cross to him."
"I see," said Dr. Hale, watching Theophile as he munched his apple,keeping carefully behind Vivian and very near her. "He does not seemmuch afraid of you, I notice, and he's used to me. The soda is allright. Where did you learn first aid to the injured, and how tohandle--persons of limited understanding?"
"The former I studied. The latter comes by nature, I think," repliedthe girl, annoyed.
He laughed, rather suddenly. "It's a good quality, often needed inthis world."
"What's all this rumpus?" demanded Grandma, appearing at the door."Waking me up out of my nap!" Grandma's smooth, fine, still dark hair,which she wore in "water waves," was somewhat disarranged, and sheheld a little shawl about her.
"Only the household baby, playing with fire," Dr. Hale answered. "MissLane resolved herself into a Red Cross society, and attended to thewounded. However I think I'll have a look at it now I'm here."
Then was Vivian surprised, and compelled to admiration, to see withwhat wise gentleness the big man won the confidence of the frightenedboy, examined the hurt hand, and bound it up again.
"You'll do, all right, won't you Theophile," he said, and offered hima shining nickel and a lozenge, "Which will you have, old man?"
After some cautious hesitation the boy chose the lozenge, and hastilyapplied it where it would do the most good.
"Where's Mrs. Jones all this time?" suddenly demanded Grandma, who hadgone back to her room and fetched forth three fat, pink gumdrops forthe further consolation of the afflicted.
"She had to go out to buy clothes for him, she hardly ever leaves himyou know," Vivian explained. "And the girls out there are so afraidthat they won't take any care of him."
This was true enough, but Vivian did not know that "Mrs. Jones" hadreturned and, peering through her favorite peephole, had seen her sendout the others, and attend to the boy's burn with her own hand. JeanneJeaune was not a sentimental person, and judged from her son's easyconsolation that he was little hurt, but she watched the girl's prompttenderness with tears in her eyes.
"She regards him, as any other boy;" thought the mother. "Hisinfirmity, she does not recall it." Dr. Hale had long since won herapproval, and when Theophile at last ran out, eager to share hisgumdrops, he found her busy as usual in the kitchen.
She was a silent woman, professionally civil to the waitresses, butnever cordial. The place pleased her, she was saving money, and sheknew that there must be _some_ waitresses--these were probably noworse than others. For her unfortunate son she expected little, andstrove to keep him near her so far as possible; but Vivian's realkindness touched her deeply.
She kept a sharp eye on whatever went on in the dining-room, and whatwith the frequent dances and the little groups which used to hangabout the table after meals, or fill a corner of the big room forquiet chats, she had good opportunities.
Morton's visible devotion she watched with deep disapproval; thoughshe was not at all certain that her "young lady" was favorablydisposed toward him. She could see and judge the feelings of the men,these many men who ate and drank and laughed and paid court to boththe girls. Dr. Hale's brusque coldness she accepted, as from a higherorder of being. Susie's gay coquetries were transparent to her; butVivian she could not read so well.
The girl's deep conscientiousness, her courtesy and patience with all,and the gentle way in which she evaded the attentions so persistentlyoffered, were new to Jeanne's experience. When Morton hung about andtried always to talk with Vivian exclusively, she saw her listen withkind attention, but somehow without any of that answering gleam whichmade Susie's blue eyes so irresistible.
"She has the lovers, but she has _no_ beauty--to compare with my younglady!" Jeanne commented inwardly.
If the sad-eyed Jeanne had been of Scotch extraction instead ofFrench, she might have quoted the explanation of the homely widow ofthree husbands when questioned by the good-looking spinster, whoclosed her inquiry by saying aggrievedly, "And ye'r na sae bonny."
"It's na the bonny that does it," explained the triple widow, "It'sthe come hither i' the een."
Susie's eyes sparkled with the "come hither," but those who camefailed to make any marked progress. She was somewhat more cautiousafter the sudden approach and overthrow of Mr. A. Smith; yet more thanone young gentleman boarder found business called him elsewhere, withmarked suddenness; his place eagerly taken by another. The Cottonwoodshad a waiting list, now.
Vivian made friends first, lovers afterward. Then if the love provedvain, the friendship had a way of lingering. Hers was one of thoseinvolved and over-conscientious characters, keenly sensitive to thethought of duty and to others, pain. She could not play with heartsthat might be hurt in the handling, nor could she find in herself aquick and simple response to the appeals made to her; there were somany t
hings to be considered.
Morton studied her with more intensity than he had ever before devotedto another human being; his admiration and respect grew withacquaintance, and all that was best in him rose in response to herwise, sweet womanliness. He had the background of their childhood'scommon experiences and her early sentiment--how much he did not know,to aid him. Then there was the unknown country of his years ofchangeful travel, many tales that he could tell her, many more whichhe found he could not.
He pressed his advantage, cautiously, finding the fullest responsewhen he used the appeal to her uplifting influence. When they talkedin the dining-room the sombre eye at the peephole watched with growingdisapproval. The kitchen was largely left to her and her son by herfellow workers, on account of their nervous dislike for Theophile, andshe utilized her opportunities.
Vivian had provided the boy with some big bright picture blocks, andhe spent happy hours in matching them on the white scoured table,while his mother sewed, and watched. He had forgotten his burn by now,and she sewed contentedly for there was no one talking to her younglady but Dr. Hale, who lingered unaccountably.
To be sure, Vivian had brought him a plate of cakes from the pantry,and he seemed to find the little brown things efficiently seductive,or perhaps it was Grandma who held him, sitting bolt upright in herusual place, at the head of one table, and asking a series of firm butfriendly questions. This she found the only way of inducing Dr. Haleto talk at all.
Yes, he was going away--Yes, he would be gone some time--A matter ofweeks, perhaps--He could not say--His boys were all well--He did notwonder that they saw a good deal of them--It was a good place for themto come.
"You might come oftener yourself," said Grandma, "and play real whistwith me. These young people play _Bridge_!" She used this word withangry scorn, as symbol of all degeneracy; and also despised pinochle,refusing to learn it, though any one could induce her to play bezique.Some of the more venturous and argumentative, strove to persuade herthat the games were really the same.
"You needn't tell me," Mrs. Pettigrew would say, "I don't want to playany of your foreign games."
"But, Madam, bezique is not an English word," Professor Toomey hadinsisted, on one occasion; to which she had promptly responded,"Neither is 'bouquet!'"
Dr. Hale shook his head with a smile. He had a very nice smile, evenVivian admitted that. All the hard lines of his face curved andmelted, and the light came into those deep-set eyes and shone warmly.
"I should enjoy playing whist with you very often, Mrs. Pettigrew; buta doctor has no time to call his own. And a good game of whist mustnot be interrupted by telephones."
"There's Miss Orella!" said Grandma, as the front door was heard toopen. "She's getting to be quite a gadder."
"It does her good, I don't doubt," the doctor gravely remarked, risingto go. Miss Orella met him in the hall, and bade him good-bye withregret. "We do not see much of you, doctor; I hope you'll be back soon."
"Why it's only a little trip; you good people act as if I were goingto Alaska," he said, "It makes me feel as if I had a family!"
"Pity you haven't," remarked Grandma with her usual definiteness.Dykeman stood holding Miss Orella's wrap, with his dry smile. "Good-bye,Hale," he said. "I'll chaperon your orphan asylum for you. So long."
"Come out into the dining-room," said Miss Orella, after Dr. Hale haddeparted. "I know you must be hungry," and Mr. Dykeman did not deny it.In his quiet middle-aged way, he enjoyed this enlarged family circle asmuch as the younger fellows, and he and Mr. Unwin seemed to vie with oneanother to convince Miss Orella that life still held charms for her. Mr.Skee also hovered about her to a considerable extent, but most of hisdevotion was bestowed upon damsels of extreme youth.
"Here's one that's hungry, anyhow," remarked Dr. Bellair, coming outof her office at the moment, with her usual clean and clear-starchedappearance. "I've been at it for eighteen hours, with only bites toeat. Yes, all over; both doing well."
It was a source of deep self-congratulation to Dr. Bellair to watchher friend grow young again in the new atmosphere. To Susie itappeared somewhat preposterous, as her Aunt seems to her mind apermanently elderly person; while to Mrs. Pettigrew it looked onlynatural. "Rella's only a young thing anyway," was her comment. ButJane Bellair marked and approved the added grace of each new gown, theblossoming of lace and ribbon, the appearance of long-hoarded bits offamily jewelry, things held "too showy to wear" in Bainville, butsomehow quite appropriate here.
Vivian and Grandma made Miss Orella sit down at her own table head,and bustled about in the pantry, bringing cheese and crackers, cakeand fruit; but the doctor poked her head through the swing door anddemanded meat.
"I don't want a refection, I want food," she said, and Jeannecheerfully brought her a plate of cold beef. She was much attached toDr. Bellair, for reasons many and good.
"What I like about this place," said Mrs. Pettigrew, surveying thescene from the head of her table, "is that there's always somethinggoing on."
"What I like about it," remarked Dr. Bellair, betweenwell-Fletcherized mouthfuls, "is that people have a chance to grow andare growing."
"What I like," Mr. Dykeman looked about him, and paused in the middleof a sentence, as was his wont; "is being beautifully taken care ofand made comfortable--any man likes that."
Miss Orella beamed upon him. Emboldened, he went on: "And what I likemost is the new, delightful"--he was gazing admiringly at her, and shelooked so embarrassed that he concluded with a wide margin ofsafety--"friends I'm making."
Miss Orella's rosy flush, which had risen under his steady gaze, ebbedagain to her usual soft pink. Even her coldest critics, in the mostcaustic Bainvillian circles, could never deny that she had "a goodcomplexion." New England, like old England, loves roses on the cheeks,and our dry Western winds play havoc with them. But Miss Orella'sbloomed brighter than at home.
"It is pleasant," she said softly; "all this coming and going--and thenice people--who stay." She looked at no one in particular, yet Mr.Dykeman seemed pleased.
"There's another coming, I guess," remarked Grandma, as a carriage washeard to stop outside, the gate slammed, and trunk-burdened stepspounded heavily across the piazza. The bell rang sharply, Mr. Dykemanopened the door, and the trunk came in first--a huge one, dumpedpromptly on the hall floor.
Behind the trunk and the man beneath it entered a lady; slim, elegant,graceful, in a rich silk dust coat and soft floating veils.
"My dear Miss Elder!" she said, coming forward; "and Vivian! DearVivian! I thought you could put me up, somewhere, and told him to comeright here. O--and please--I haven't a bit of change left in mypurse--will you pay the man?"
"Well, if it isn't Mrs. St. Cloud," said Grandma, without any note ofwelcome in her voice.
Mr. Dykeman paid the man; looked at the trunk, and paid him some more.The man departed swearing softly at nothing in particular, and Mr.Dykeman departed also to his own room.
Miss Orella's hospitable soul was much exercised. Refuse shelter to anold acquaintance, a guest, however unexpected, she could not; yet shehad no vacant room. Vivian, flushed and excited, moved anew by herold attraction, eagerly helped the visitor take off her wraps, Mrs.Pettigrew standing the while, with her arms folded, in the doorway ofher room, her thin lips drawn to a hard line, as one intending torepel boarders at any risk to life or limb. Dr. Bellair had returnedto her apartments at the first sound of the visitor's voice.
She, gracious and calm in the midst of confusion, sat in a wreath ofdown-dropped silken wrappings, and held Vivian's hand.
"You dear child!" she said, "how well you look! What a charming placethis is. The doctors sent me West for my health; I'm on my way toCalifornia. But when I found the train stopped here--I didn't knowthat it did till I saw the name--I had them take my trunk right off,and here I am! It is such a pleasure to see you all."
"Huh!" said Mrs. Pettigrew, and disappeared completely, closing thedoor behind her.
"Anything will do, Miss Elder," the
visitor went on. "I shall find ahall bedroom palatial after a sleeping car; or a garret--anything!It's only for a few days, you know."
Vivian was restraining herself from hospitable offers by rememberingthat her room was also Susie's, and Miss Orella well knew that to giveup hers meant sleeping on a hard, short sofa in that all-too-publicparlor. She was hastily planning in her mind to take Susie in with herand persuade Mrs. Pettigrew to harbor Vivian, somewhat deterred bymemories of the old lady's expression as she departed, when Mr.Dykeman appeared at the door, suitcase in hand.
"I promised Hale I'd keep house for those fatherless boys, you know,"he said. "In the meantime, you're quite welcome to use my room, MissElder." And he departed, her blessing going with him.
More light refreshments were now in order. Mrs. St. Cloud protestingthat she wanted nothing, but finding much to praise in the delicaciesset before her. Several of the other boarders drifted in, always gladof an extra bite before going to bed. Susie and Mr. Saunders returnedfrom a walk, Morton reappeared, and Jeanne, peering sharply in,resentful of this new drain upon her pantry shelves, saw a fair,sweet-faced woman, seated at ease, eating daintily, while Miss Elderand Vivian waited upon her, and the men all gathered admiringly about.Jeanne Jeaune wagged her head. "Ah, ha, Madame!" she muttered softly,"Such as you I have met before!" Theophile she had long since sent tobed, remaining up herself to keep an eye on the continued disturbancein the front of the house. Vivian and Susie brought the dishes out,and would have washed them or left them till morning for the maids.
"Truly, no," said Jeanne Jeaune; "go you to your beds; I will attendto these."
One by one she heard them go upstairs, distant movement and softdissuasion as two gentlemen insisted on bearing Mrs. St. Cloud's trunkinto her room, receding voices and closing doors. There was no soundin the dining-room now, but still she waited; the night was not yetquiet.
Miss Elder and Susie, Vivian also, hovered about, trying to make thisnew guest comfortable, in spite of her graceful protests that theymust not concern themselves in the least about her, that she wantednothing--absolutely nothing. At last they left her, and still later,after some brief exchange of surprised comment and warm appreciationof Mr. Dykeman's thoughtfulness, the family retired. Vivian, when herlong hair was smoothly braided for the night, felt an imperative needfor water.
"Don't you want some, Susie? I'll bring you a glass." But Susie onlyhuddled the bedclothes about her pretty shoulders and said:
"Don't bring me _anything_, until to-morrow morning!"
So her room-mate stole out softly in her wrapper, remembering that apitcher of cool water still stood on one of the tables. The windows tothe street let in a flood of light from a big street lamp, and shefound her way easily, but was a bit startled for a moment to find aman still sitting there, his head upon his arms.
"Why, Morton," she said; "is that you? What are you sitting up for?It's awfully late. I'm just after some water." She poured a glassful."Don't you want some?"
"No, thank you," he said. "Yes, I will. Give me some, please."
The girl gave him a glass, drank from her own and set it down, turningto go, but he reached out and caught a flowing sleeve of her kimono.
"Don't go, Vivian! Do sit down and talk to a fellow. I've been tryingto see you for days and days."
"Why, Morton Elder, how absurd! You have certainly seen me every day,and we've talked hours this very evening. This is no time forconversation, surely."
"The best time in the world," he assured her. "All the other times thereare people about--dozens--hundreds--swarms! I want to talk to just you."
There were certainly no dozens or hundreds about now, but as certainlythere was one, noting with keen and disapproving interest thismidnight tete-a-tete. It did not last very long, and was harmless andimpersonal enough while it lasted.
Vivian sat for a few moments, listening patiently while the young mantalked of his discouragements, his hopes, his wishes to succeed inlife, to be worthy of her; but when the personal note sounded, when hetried to take her hand in the semi-darkness, then her New Englandconscience sounded also, and she rose to her feet and left him.
"We'll talk about that another time," she said. "Now do be quiet anddo not wake people up."
He stole upstairs, dutifully, and she crept softly back to her roomand got into bed, without eliciting more than a mild grunt from sleepySusie. Silence reigned at last in the house. Not for long, however.
At about half past twelve Dr. Bellair was roused from a well-earnedsleep by a light, insistent tap upon her door. She listened,believing it to be a wind-stirred twig; but no, it was a fingertap--quiet--repeated. She opened the door upon Jeanne in herstocking feet.
"Your pardon, Mrs. Doctor," said the visitor, "but it is of importance.May I speak for a little? No, I'm not ill, and we need not a light."
They sat in the clean little office, the swaying cottonwood boughsmaking a changeful pattern on the floor.
"You are a doctor, and you can make an end to it--you must make an endto it," said Jeanne, after a little hesitation. "This young man--thisnephew--he must not marry my young lady."
"What makes you think he wants to?" asked the doctor.
"I have seen, I have heard--I know," said Jeanne. "You know, all cansee that he loves her. _He!_ Not such as he for my young lady."
"Why do you object to him, Jeanne?"
"He has lived the bad life," said the woman, grimly.
"Most young men are open to criticism," said Dr. Bellair. "Have youanything definite to tell me--anything that you could _prove_?--if itwere necessary to save her?" She leaned forward, elbows on knees.
Jeanne sat in the flickering shadows, considering her words. "He hashad the sickness," she said at last.
"Can you prove that?"
"I can prove to you, a doctor, that Coralie and Anastasia andEstelle--they have had it. They are still alive; but not so beautiful."
"Yes; but how can you prove it on him?"
"I know he was with them. Well, it was no secret. I myself haveseen--he was there often."
"How on earth have you managed not to be recognized?" Dr. Bellairinquired after a few moments.
Jeanne laughed bitterly. "That was eight years ago; he was but aboy--gay and foolish, with the others. What does a boy know?... Also,at that time I was blonde, and--of a difference."
"I see," said the doctor, "I see! That's pretty straight. You knowpersonally of that time, and you know the record of those others. Butthat was a long time ago."
"I have heard of him since, many times, in such company," said Jeanne.They sat in silence for some time. A distant church clock struck asingle deep low note. The woman rose, stood for a hushed moment,suddenly burst forth with hushed intensity: "You must save her,doctor--you will! I was young once," she went on. "I did not know--asshe does not. I married, and--_that_ came to me! It made me a devil--forawhile. Tell her, doctor--if you must; tell her about my boy!"
She went away, weeping silently, and Dr. Bellair sat sternly thinkingin her chair, and fell asleep in it from utter weariness.