CHAPTER IX
The following morning, Aunt Hannah returned to her tiny apartment onPark Avenue, financially benefitted by her Westchester sojourn, havingextracted a bolt of Chinese loot-silk for a gown from her nephew'sdismayed wife, and the usual check from her nephew.
Lindley, a slow, pallid, and thrifty soul, had always viewed AuntHannah's event with unfeigned alarm, because, somehow or other, at theclose of every visit he found himself presenting her with a check. Andit 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 tohimself that he wouldn't. But before her visit ended, the pressure ofcustom became too much for him; a deadly sense of obligation toward thisdreadful woman--of personal responsibility for her indigence--possessedhim, became gradually an obsession, until he exorcised it by the presentof a check.
She never spoke of it--never seemed to hint at it--always seemedsurprised and doubtful of accepting; but some devilish spell certainlypermeated the atmosphere in her immediate vicinity, drawing perfectlygood money out of his innermost and tightly buttoned breast-pockets andleaving it certified and carelessly crumpled in her velvet reticule.
It happened with a sickening regularity which now he had come to viewwith the modified internal fury of resignation. It had simply become aterrible custom, and, with all his respectable inertia and thriftycaution, adherence to custom ruled Lindley Hammerton. For years he hadpinched roses; for years he had drawn checks for Aunt Hannah. Nothingbut corporeal dissolution could terminate these customs.
As for Aunt Hannah, she banked her check and had her bolt of silk madeinto a gown, and trotted briskly about her business with perennialself-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 pecuniarypickings plenty. Up to her small, thin ears in intrigue, harmless andnot 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 andbusiness 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 attenuatedinamorata 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 hammeron the premises; she had the contract to engineer that matter before sheundertook 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 meto bring your pretty friend," she said.
"I am. She has the jades and crystals to catalogue. What I want, as soonas she gets rid of Clydesdale, is for her to resume work here--come upand remain as my guest until the cataloguing is finished. So you seeI'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 atcards, too."
"When?"
"The first Thursday in March. It's a business proposition, but it'sbetween you and me, and she is not to suspect it."
"Very well," said Aunt Hannah cheerfully. "I'll arrange my engagementsaccordingly. And do try to have a gay party, James; and don't ask theClydesdales. You know how Westchester gets on my nerves. And I alwayshated 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 Desborowent back to his interrupted business with Vail.
Since Jacqueline had been compelled to suspend temporarily her inventoryat Silverwood in favor of prior engagements, Desboro had been to thecity only twice, and both times to see her.
He had seen her in her office, remained on both occasions for an houronly, and had then taken the evening train back to Silverwood. But everyevening he had written her of the day just ended--told her about theplans for farming, now maturing, of the quiet life at Silverwood, howgradually he was reestablishing neighbourly relations with thecountryside, how much of a country squire he was becoming.
"--And the whole thing with malice aforethought," he wrote. "--Everyblessed move only a strategy in order that, to do you honour, I maystand soberly and well before the community when you are among myguests.
"In tow of Aunt Hannah; engaged for part of the day in your businessamong the jades, crystals, and porcelains of a celebrated collection;one of a house party; and the guest of a young man who has returned veryseriously to till the soil of his forefathers; all that anybody canpossibly think of it will be that your host is quite as captivated byyour 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. Ido not really care about the other people, but I quite understand thatyou 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 shouldmiss seeing you--humble confession! And so I suppose it is best thateverybody should know who and what I am--a business woman well-bredenough to sit at table with your friends, with sufficientself-confidence to enter and leave a room properly, to maintain my graspon the conversational ball, and to toss it lightly to my vis-a-vis whenthe time comes.
"All this is worth doing and enduring for the sake of being your guest.Without conscientious scruples, apprehensions, perplexities, and fears Icould never again come to Silverwood and be there alone with you as Ihave been. Always I have been secretly unhappy and afraid after a daywith you at Silverwood. Sooner or later it would have had to end. It cannot go on--as it has been going. I know it. The plea of business is soonworn threadbare if carelessly used.
"And so--caring for your friendship as I do--and it having become such afactor in my life--I find it easy to do what you ask me; and I havearranged to go with Mrs. Hammerton to Silverwood on the first Thursdayin March, to practice my profession, enjoy the guests at your houseparty, and cultivate our friendship with a clear conscience and atranquil and happy mind.
"It was just that little element of protection I needed to make me morehappy than I have ever been. Somehow, I _couldn't_ care for you asfrankly and freely as I wanted to. And some things have happened--youknow what I mean. I didn't reproach you, or pretend surprise or anger. Ifelt neither--only a confused sense of unhappiness. But--I cared for youenough to submit.
"Now I go to you with a sense of security that is delightful. You don'tunderstand how a girl situated as I am feels when she knows that she isin a position where any woman has the right to regard her withsuspicion. Skating, motoring, with you, I could not bear to pass peopleyou knew and to whom you bowed--women--even farmers' wives.
"But now it will be different; I feel so warmly confident at heart, sosecure, that I shall perhaps dare to say and do and be much that younever suspected was in me. The warm sun of approval makes a verydifferent person of me. A girl, who, in her heart, does not approve ofwhat she is doing, and who is always expecting to encounter other womenwho would not approve, is never at her best--isn't even herself--andisn't really happy, even with a man she likes exceedingly. You will, Ithink, see a somewhat different girl on Thursday."
* * * * *
"If your words are sometimes a little misty," he wrote, "your soulshines through everything you say, with a directness entirely heavenly.Lif
e, for us, begins on Thursday, under cover no longer, but in theopen. And the field will be as fair for you as for me. That is as itshould be; that is as far as I care to look. But somehow, after all isdone and said that ever will be said and done between you and me, I amconscious that when we two emerge from the dream called 'living,' youwill 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 houseparty pleasant for you and your guests. So I've asked Mr. Sissly to givea recital. It is quite the oddest thing; you don't _listen_ to asymphony which he plays on the organ; you _see_ it. He will send theorgan, electrical attachments, lights, portable stage and screen, toSilverwood; and his men will install everything in the armoury.
"Then, if it would amuse your guests, I could tell them a little aboutyour jades and crystals, and do it in a rather unusual way. I thinkyou'd rather like it. Shall I?"
* * * * *
He wrote some days later: "What a darling you are! Anything you do willbe charming. Sissly's men have arrived and are raising a racket in thearmoury with hammer and saw.
"The stage will look quite wonderful between the wide double rank ofequestrian figures in armour.
"Aunt Hannah writes that you called on her and that you and she arecoming up on the train together, which is delightfully sensible, andexactly as it should be. Heaven alone knows how long you are going to beable to endure her. It's rather odd, you know, but I like her and alwayshave, though she's made things disagreeable for me more than once in mylife.
"Your room is ready; Aunt Hannah's adjoins. Quarters for other guestsare 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--ajolly crowd of young people--nineteen of them--who filled hisautomobiles and horse-drawn vehicles. Their luggage followed in vans,from which protruded skis and hockey sticks. There being no porter, thebutler of Silverwood House received them in front of the lodge at theouter gates, offering the "guest cup," a Desboro custom of manygenerations, originating in England, although the lodge had stood emptyand the gates open since his grandfather's time.
"There was, for a moment, an unconscious and unwontedgrace 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--anundefined echo in his voice of other and more courtly times, as he gavehis arm to Aunt Hannah and led her inside the hall.
There it exhaled and vanished as Mrs. Quant and the maids smilinglyconducted the guests to their various quarters--vanished with thesmiling formality of his greeting to Jacqueline.
The men returned first, clad in their knickerbockers and skatingjackets. Cocktails awaited them in the billiard-room, and they gatheredthere in noisy curiosity over this celebrated house not often opened toanybody except its owner.
"Who is the dream, Jim?" demanded Reginald Ledyard. "I mean the wonderwith the gold hair, that Mrs. Hammerton has in tow?"
"A friend of Aunt Hannah's--an expert in antique art--and as clever andcharming as she is pretty," said Desboro pleasantly.
"High-brow! Oh, help!" muttered Ledyard. "Where's your library? I wantto read up."
"She can talk like other people," remarked Van Alstyne. "I got next onthe train--old lady Hammerton stood for me. She can flirt some, I'lltell you those."
Bertie Barkley extracted the olive from a Bronx and considered itseriously.
"The old lady is on a salary, of course. Nobody ever heard of anybodynamed Nevers," he remarked.
"They'll hear of somebody named Nevers now," observed Captain Herrendenewith emphasis, "or," he added in modest self-depreciation, "I am allkinds 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. Andwhen I found her to be a friend of Aunt Hannah's, I asked them both uphere as my guests."
"You always had an eye for beauty," said Cairns. "What do you supposeMrs. 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 vegetatingline?"
"Probably not as far as the line of perpetual stupidity," said Desboro."Miss Nevers appears to be a very busy, and very intelligent, andself-sufficient young lady, and I imagine she would have neither timenor 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 thelibrary.
There were a lot of gay young girls there in skating costumes; Ledyard'ssister Marie, with her large figure and pretty but slightly stupid face;Helsa Steyr, blonde, athletic, and red-haired; Athalie Vannis, with herhandsome, dark face, so often shadowed by discontent; Barkley's animatedlittle wife, Elizabeth, grey-eyed and freckled and brimming withmischief of the schoolboy quality; the stately Katharine Frere; AuntHannah; and Jacqueline.
All except the latter two had been doing something to cocktails ofvarious species; Jacqueline took nothing; Aunt Hannah, Scotch whiskeywith relish.
"It's about the last of the skating," said Desboro, "so we'd better takewhat we can get as soon as luncheon is over. Pick your partners anddon't squabble. Me for Mrs. Hammerton!" and he led her out.
At table he noticed that Captain Herrendene had secured Jacqueline, andthat Reggie Ledyard, on the other side, was already neglecting his ownpartner in his eager, good-looking and slightly loutish fashion ofpaying court to the newest and prettiest girl.
Aunt Hannah's glance continually flickered sideways at Desboro, but whenshe discovered that he was aware of her covert scrutiny, she said underher breath:
"I've been shopping with her; the little thing didn't know how to clotheherself luxuriously in the more intimate details. I'd like to seeanybody's maid patronise her now! Yours don't know enough--but she'll gowhere there are those who do know, sooner or later. What do you think ofher?"
"What I always think," he said coolly. "She is the most interesting girlI 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 itall with those clear, intelligent eyes--see at the bottom what liessquirming there--anxiety, self-distrust, eternal dread, undying envy,the secret insecurity of those who imitate the real--which does notexist in America--and who know in their hopeless hearts that they areonly shams, like that two-year-old antique tavern yonder, made quaint toorder."
He said smilingly: "She'll soon have enough of your particularfamiliars. But, little by little, she'll find herself in accord withpeople who seek her as frankly as she seeks them. Natural selection, youknow. Your only usefulness is to give her the opportunity, and you'vebegun to do it, bless your heart."
She flashed a malicious glance at him; under cover of the gay hubbub shesaid:
"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 knowwhat deadly species of female it will be. You're probably right; you'rethat kind, too--no real substance to you, James. And so I think I'llhave to look after my intell
ectual protegee, and be very sure that herpretty 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, thenpresented her well-shaped back to that young gentleman and again crossedglances with Desboro, who was waiting, cool as steel.
"Come, James," she said in a low voice, "what do you mean to do? A manalways means something or nothing; and the latter is the moredangerous."
As that was exactly what Desboro told himself he had always meant, hewinced and remained silent.
"Oh, you--the lot of you!" she said with smiling contempt. "I'll equipthat girl to take care of herself before I'm through with her. Watchme."
"It is part of your business. Equip her to take care of herself asthoroughly as anybody you know. Then it will be up to her--as it is upto all women, after all--and to all men."
"Oh, is it? You've all the irresponsibility and moral rottenness of yourCavalier 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 thatindividual 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! Acivilised society swarming with callow and irresponsible opportunists,amateur Jesuits, idle intelligences reinfected with the toxins of theirown philosophy! But," she shrugged, "I am indicting man himself--nationsand nations of him. Besides, we women have always known this. Andhybrids are hybrids. If there's any claret in the house, tell Farris tofetch some. Don't be angry, James. Man and woman once were differentspecies, and the world has teemed with their hybrids since the firstmating."
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 pourquelqu'un!"
Mrs. Hammerton added: "Il faut tout attendre et tout craindre du tempset des hommes."
Reggie Ledyard, much flattered, admitted the wholesale indictmentagainst his sex:
"How can we help it? Man, possessing always dual personality, isnaturally 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 incounting his thumbs. Name your French philosopher who can beat thatreflection," she added to Desboro, who smiled absently.
"All the men there had yielded to the delicate attractionof her"]
From moment to moment he had been watching Jacqueline and the men alwaysleaning toward her--Reggie Ledyard persistently bringing to bear on herthe full splendour of his straw-blond and slightly coarse beauty;Cairns, receptive and debonnaire as usual; Herrendene, with his keensmile and sallow visage lined with the memory of things that had lefttheir marks--all the men there had yielded to the delicate attraction ofher.
Desboro said to Mrs. Hammerton: "Now you realise where she reallybelongs."
"Better than you do," she retorted drily.
After luncheon there were vehicles to convey them to the pond, a smallsheet of water down in the Desboro woods. And while a declining sunglittered through the trees, the wooded shores echoed with the clatterand scrape of skates and the rattle of hockey-sticks crossed in livelycombat.
But inshore the ice had rotted; the end of such sport was already insight. Along the gravelly inlet, where water rippled, a dozen fingerlingtrout lay half hidden among the pebbles; over a bank of soft, sun-warmedsnow, gnats danced in the sunset light; a few tree-buds had turnedsticky.
Later, Vail came and built a bonfire; Farris arrived with tea basketsfull of old-fashioned things, such as turnovers and flip in stone jugsof a century ago.
Except for a word or two at intervals, Desboro had found no chance totalk to Jacqueline. Now and then their glances encountered, lingered,shifted, with scarcely a ghost of a smile in forced response toimportunities. So he had played an impartial game of hockey, skated withany girl who seemed to be receptive, cut intricate figures with Mrs.Hammerton in a cove covered with velvet-smooth black ice, superintendedthe bonfire construction, directed Farris with the tea.
Now, absently executing a "grape-vine," he was gliding along the outerranks of his guests with the mechanical patrolling instinct of a collie,when Jacqueline detached herself from a fire-lit group and made him agay 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 intothe starlight.
"Are you enjoying it?" he asked.
"That's why I signalled you. I never have had such a good time. I wantedyou to know it."
"You like my friends?"
She looked up: "They are all so charming to me! I didn't expect peopleto be cordial."
"You need expect nothing else wherever you go and whomever youmeet--barring the inevitable which no attractive girl can avoidarousing. Do you get on with Aunt Hannah?"
She laughed: "Isn't it odd? _I_ call her that, too. She asked me to. Anddo you know, she has been a perfect dear about everything. We shoppedtogether; I never had quite ventured to buy certain fascinating thingsto wear. And we had such a good time lunching at the Ritz, where I hadnever dared go. Such beautiful women! Such gowns! Such jewels!"
They halted and looked back across the ice at the distant fire and thedark forms moving about it.
"You've bowled over every man here, as a matter of course," he saidlightly. "If you'll tell me how you like the women I'll know whetherthey like you."
"Oh, I like them; they are as nice to me as they are to each other!" sheexclaimed, "--except, perhaps, one or two----"
"Marie Ledyard is hopelessly spoiled; Athalie Vannis is usuallydiscontented," he said philosophically. "Don't expect either of them togive three cheers for another girl's popularity."
They crossed hands and swept toward the centre of the pond on the "outeredge." Jacqueline's skating skirt was short enough for her to manage a"Dutch roll," steadied and guided by Desboro; then they exchanged it forother 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--foryou, 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, butevidently 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 kindeyes he has!"
"He's a fine fellow," said Desboro without emphasis.
Before they came within the firelight, he asked her whether she hadreally decided to give them a little lecture on jades and crystals; andshe said that she had.
"It won't be too technical or too dry, I hope," she added laughingly. "Itold Captain Herrendene what I was going to say and do, and he liked theidea."
"Won't you tell me, too, Jacqueline?"
"No, I want _you_ to be surprised. Besides, I haven't time; we've beentogether too long already. Doesn't one's host have to be impartiallyattentive? 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 perfecteruption of bewildering gowns and jewels and flowers. Desboro had neverbefore seen Jacqueline in a dinner gown, or even attempted to visualiseher be
auty amid such surroundings in contrast with other women.
She fitted exquisitely into the charming mosaic; from crown to toe shewas part of it, an essential factor that, once realised, becameindispensable to the harmony.
Perhaps, he told himself, she did not really dominate with the freshdelicacy of her beauty; perhaps it was only what he saw in her and whathe knew of her that made the others shadowy and commonplace to him.
"In all the curious eyes turned toward her, he sawadmiration, willing or conceded."]
Yet, in all the curious eyes repeatedly turned toward her, he sawadmiration, willing or conceded, recognised every unspoken tribute ofher own sex as well as the less reserved surrender of his; saw hersuddenly developed into a blossom of unabashed and youthful lovelinessunder what she had once called "the warm sun of approval"; and sat invague 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, apparentlyfound him interesting.
So all went well enough, whether gaily or seriously, even with AuntHannah, who had discovered under Desboro's smiling composure all kindsof food for reflection and malicious diversion.
For such a small party it was certainly a gay one--at least people werebeginning to think so half way through dinner--which merely meant thateverybody was being properly appreciated by everybody's neighbours, andthat made everybody feel unusually witty, and irrepressible, and alittle inclined to be silly toward the end.
But then the after-dinner guests began to arrive--calm, perfectly poisedand substantial Westchester propositions who had been bidden to assistat 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 apretty girl from almost any cover--if you were gunning for that varietyof girl.
Reggie Ledyard had managed to corner Jacqueline on the stairs, butcouldn't monopolise her nor protect himself against the shamelessintrusion of Cairns, who spoiled the game until Herrendene raided thetrio and carried her off to the billiard-room on a most flimsy pretext.
Here, very properly, a Westchester youth of sterling worth got her awayand was making toward the library with her when Desboro unhooked ahunting horn from the wall and filled the house with deafening blasts assignal that the show was about to begin in the armoury.
The armoury had been strung with incandescent lights, which played overthe huge mounted figures in mail, and glanced in a million reflectionsfrom the weapons on the wall. A curtained and raised stage faced seatsfor a hundred people, which filled the long, wide aisle between theequestrian shapes; and into these the audience was pouring, excited andmystified by the odd-looking and elaborate electrical attachmentsflanking 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'slecture interesting, but do you think they'll like mine?"
"How do I know, you little villain? You've told Herrendene what you aregoing 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 amoment 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 quiterecovered my courage."
"Have you quite recovered all the scattered fragments of your heart? Iam 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 herrestless fingers worrying his sleeve.
"Jacqueline?"
"Yes--Jim."
The swift fire in his face answered the flush in hers; he drew hernearer, but she averted her dainty head in silence and stood so, herhand 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 adorableshyness. He kissed her, but her lips were cold and unresponsive, and shebent 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 shalldo. It will be done to please you--Jim."
He opened the dressing-room door for her; she entered, turned to lookback 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 curtainsparted, revealing a white screen, and Mr. Lionel Sissly advancing with askip to the footlights. The audience looked again at its programme cardsand 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. Andsound is sacred because all vibrations, audible or inaudible, are inmiraculous 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 thefirst note of the octave above it. Now, the spectrum band is the colourcounterpart of the musical octave; the ether vibrates with double thespeed at the _violet_ end of the spectrum band that it does at theopposite extremity, or _red_ end. Let me show you the chromatic scalesin colour and music--the latter the equivalent of the former, revealinghow the intervals correspond when C represents red." And he flashed uponthe screen a series of brilliant colours.
"Remember," he said, "that it is with colour as it is with sound--thereis a long range of vibrations below and above the first and last visiblecolour and the first and last audible note--a long, long range beyondcompass of the human eye and ear. Probably the music of the spheres iscomposed of such harmonies," he simpered.
"Modern occidental music is evolved in conformity with an arbitraryscale," he resumed earnestly. "An octave consists of seven whole tonesand five half-tones. Combinations and sequences of notes or tints affectus emotionally--pleasurably when harmonious, painfully when discordant.But," and his voice shook with soulful emotion, "the holiest and themost precious alliance ever dreamed of beyond the Gates of Heaven liesin the sacred intermingling of harmonious colour and harmonioussilence. Let me play for you, upon my colour organ, my soundlesssymphony which I call 'Weather.' Always in the world there will beweather. We have it constantly; there is so much of it that nobody knowshow much there is; and I do not see very clearly how there ever could beany less than there is. Weather, then, being the only earthly conditionwhich is eternal, becomes precious beyond human comprehension; and Ihave tried to interpret it as a symphony of silence and of colourdivinely intermingled."
Ledyard whispered to Betty Barkley: "I'll go mad and bite if he saysanother word!"
She cautioned him with a light touch of her gloved hand, and strove veryhard to remain serious as Mr. Sissly minced over to his "organ," seatedhimself, and gazed upward.
All at once every light in
the house went out.
For a while the great screen remained invisible, then a faint sheenpossessed its surface, blotted out at eccentric intervals by a deep andthunderous tint which finally absorbed it and slowly became a coldlyprofound and depthless blue.
The blue was not permanent; almost imperceptible pulsations werestirring and modifying it toward a warmer and less decisive hue, andthrough it throbbed and ebbed elusive sensations of palest turquoise,primrose and shell-pink. This waned and deepened into a yellow whichthreatened to become orange.
Suddenly all was washed out in unaccented grey; the grey graduallybecame instinct with rose and gold; the gold was split by a violetstreak; then virile scarlet tumbled through crashing scales of green,amethyst, crimson, into a chaos of chromatic dissonance, and vanishedengulfed in shimmering darkness.
The lights flashed up, disclosing Mr. Sissly, very pale and damp offeatures, facing the footlights again.
"That," he faltered, amid a stillness so profound that it seemed to fillthe ear like a hollow roar,--"that is weather. If you approve it, themost 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 preciousthought-treasures one at a time--and never more than two between therising 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'ssymphony in A minor; and I can only say that it is replete with ameaning so exquisitely precious that no human intelligence has yetpenetrated it."
Out went the lights. Presently the screen became visible. Upon it thereseemed to be no colour, no hint of any tint, no quality, no value. Itwas merely visible, and remained so for three mortal minutes. Then thelights broke out, revealing Mr. Sissly half fainting at his organ, andtwo young women in Greek robes waving bunches of violets at him. And thecurtain fell.
"There only remains," whispered Ledyard, "the funny-house for me."
"If you make me laugh I'll never forgive you," Mrs. Barkley warned himunder her breath. "But--oh, do look at Mrs. Hammerton!"
Aunt Hannah's visage resembled that of a cornered and enraged minksurrounded by enemies.
"If that man comes near me," she said to Desboro, "I shall destroy himwith hatpins. You'd better keep him away. I'm morally and nervouslydisorganised."
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; evenless, perhaps, than illuminated his intellect. He gazed wanly uponadoration, edging his way toward Miss Frere, who, at dinner, had rashlyadmitted 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 tome 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, veryprecious to me," he said in a low voice. And the stately Miss Frereblushed.
The audience, under the stimulus of the lights, recovered very quicklyfrom its semi-stupor, and everybody was now discussing with animationthe unique experience of the past half-hour. New York chattered;Westchester discussed; that was the difference. Both had expected a newkind of cabaret show; neither had found the weird performancedisappointing. Flippant and unintellectual young men felt safe in thecertainty that neither their pretty partners nor the more seriousrepresentatives of the substantial county knew one whit more aboutsoundless symphonies than did they.
"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 seatedherself, drew the gilded instrument back against her right shoulder, sether feet to the pedals, her fingers to the strings, and wanderedcapriciously from _Le Donne Curiose_ and the far, brief echoes of itsbarcarolle, into _Koenigskinder_, and on through _Versiegelt_, till shelost herself in a dreamy Bavarian folk-song which died out as sunsetdies on the far alms of the Red Valepp.
Great applause; no cabaret yet. The audience looked at the programme andread:
"A Thousand Years B.C. ... Miss Nevers."
And Reggie Ledyard was becoming restless, thinking perhaps that a littleragtime 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 curtainsplit open and was gathered at the wings; a shimmering radiance grewupon the stage disclosing a huge gold and green dragon of porcelain onits faience pedestal. And there, high cradled between the forepaws ofthe ancient Mongolian monster, sat a slim figure in silken robes ofturquoise, rose, and scarlet, a Chinese lute across her knees, slim feetpendant below the rainbow skirt.
Her head-dress was wrought fantastically of open-work gold, inlaid witha thousand tiny metallic blue feathers, accented by fiery gems; acrossthe silky folds of her slitted tunic were embroidered in iris tints thesingle-winged birds whirling around each other between floating clouds;little clog-like shoes of silk and gold, embroidered with moss-greenarabesques inset with orange and scarlet, shod the feet.
Ancient Cathay, exquisitely, immortally young, sat in jewelled silks andflowers under the huge and snarling dragon. And presently, string bystring, her idle lute awoke, picked with the plectrum, note after notein strange and unfamiliar intervals; and, looking straight in front ofher, she sang at random, to "the sorrows of her lute," verses from "TheMaker 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 lostlike 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 herplectrum the weird opening chord of that sixth century song called "TheNight Revel"; and sang to the end the ancient verses set to modern musicby 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 Fete With one triumphant Cry! Why should Love sigh?"
The curtain slowly closed on the echoes of her lute; there came aninterval of absolute silence, then an uproar of cries and of peoplegetting to their feet, calling out: "Go on! Go on! Don't stop!" Noapplause except this excited clamour for more, and the racket of movingchairs.
"Good Lord!" muttered Captain Herrendene. "Did you ever see anything asbeautiful as that girl?"
And: "Where did she learn such things?" demanded people excitedly of oneanother. "It must be the real business! How does she know?"
The noise became louder and more emphatic; calls for her reappearanceredoubled and persisted until the gong again sounded, the lights wentout, and the curtains twitched once more and parted.
She slid down from her cradled perch between the forelegs of the shadowydragon 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 willsay for you another song of ancient China, if you like. It was made byKao-Shih about seven hundred years after the birth of Christ. He was oneof the T'ang poets--and not a very ch
eerful 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 ofenthusiastic rudeness.
She recited for them Meng Hao-Jan's "A Friend Expected," from "The Makerof Moons," and the quatrains of the lovely, naive 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 forthem 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 ofthe ancient splendour, she moved forward in her whispering silks, and,slightly bending, her finger lifted like one who hushes children with amagic tale, she spoke to them of Fei-yen, mistress of the Emperor; andtold them how T'ai-Chen became an empress; sang for them the song of YuLao, 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 knewit, 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-EndingWrong"--the immortal tragedy of that immortal maid, "a reed in motionand a rose in flame," from where she alights "in the white hibiscusbower" to where "death is drumming at the door" and "ten thousandbattle-chariots on the wing" come clashing to a halt; and the trappedKing, 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 insoul, she "shines through tall avenues of spears, to die."
"The King has sought the darkness of his hands," standing in strickengrief, then turns and gazes at what lies there at his feet amid itsscattered
"--_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 eyesfound what they had been seeking, for she smiled and stepped back as thecurtain closed. And no uproar of applause could lure her forth againuntil the lights had been long blazing and the dancers were whirlingover the armoury floor, and she had washed the paint from lid and lipand cheek, and put off her rustling antique silken splendour to bewitchanother 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 allthe world I can do for you, Jacqueline?"
She was laughing, flushed by the flattery and compliments from everyside, but she heard him; and after a moment her face altered subtly. Butshe answered lightly:
"Can I ask for more than a dance or two with you? Is not that honourenough?" Her voice was gay and mocking, but the smile had faded from eyeand lip; only the curved sweetness of the mouth remained.
They caught the music's beat and swung away together among the otherdancers, he piloting her with great adroitness between the avenues ofarmoured figures.
When he had the opportunity, he said: "What may I send you that youwould care for?"
"Send me?" She laughed lightly again. "Let me see! Well, then, perhapsyou 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 anyinexpensive thing you wish--a white carnation--I don't really care--"she looked away from him--"as long as it comes from you."