The Fashionable Adventures of Joshua Craig: A Novel

  CHAPTER VII

  MRS. SEVERENCE IS ROUSED

  Craig swooped upon the Severences the next afternoon. His arrivals werealways swoopings--a swift descent on a day when he was not expected; or,if the day was forearranged, then the hour would be a surprise. It was ahabit with him, a habit deliberately formed. He liked to take peopleunawares, to create a flurry, reasoning that he, quick of eye anddetermined of purpose, could not but profit by any confusion. He wasalways in a hurry--that is, he seemed to be. In this also there wasdeliberation. It does not follow because a man is in a hurry that he isan important and busy person; no more does it follow that a man is aninconsequential procrastinator if he is leisurely and dilatory. Thesignificance of action lies in intent. Some men can best gain their endsby creating an impression that they are extremely lazy, others bycreating the impression that they are exceedingly energetic. Theimportant point is to be on the spot at the moment most favorable forgaining the desired advantage; and it will be found that of the men whoget what they want in this world, both those who seem to hasten andthose who seem to lounge are always at the right place at the righttime.

  It best fitted Craig, by nature impatient, noisily aggressive, to adoptthe policy of rush. He arrived before time usually, fumed until he hadgot everybody into that nervous state in which men, and women, too, willyield more than they ever would in the kindly, melting mood. Though hemight stay hours, he, each moment, gave the impression that everybodymust speak quickly or he would be gone, might quickly be rid of him byspeaking quickly. Obviously, intercourse with him was sociallyunsatisfactory; but this did not trouble him, as his theory of life was,get what you want, never mind the way or the feelings of others. And ashe got by giving, attached his friends by self-interest, made people dofor him what it was just as well that they should do, the net result,after the confusion and irritation had calmed, was that everybody felt,on the whole, well content with having been compelled. It was said ofhim that he made even his enemies work for him; and this was undoubtedlytrue--in the sense in which it was meant as well as in the deeper sensethat a man's enemies, if he be strong, are his most assiduous allies andadvocates. It was also true that he did a great deal for people. Wheremost men do favors only when the prospect of return is immediate, hebusied himself as energetically if returns seemed remote, evenimprobable, as he did when his right hand was taking in with interest ashis left hand gave. It was his nature to be generous, to like to give;it was also his nature to see that a reputation for real generosity andkindness of heart was an invaluable asset, and that the only way to winsuch a reputation was by deserving it.

  Craig arrived at the Severences at half-past four, when no one wasexpected until five. "Margaret is dressing," explained Mrs. Severence,as she entered the drawing-room. "She'll be down presently--if you careto wait." This, partly because she hoped he would go, chiefly because heseemed in such a hurry.

  "I'll wait a few minutes," said Craig in his sharp, irritating voice.

  And he began to tour the room, glancing at pictures, at articles on thetables, mussing the lighter pieces of furniture about. Mrs. Severence,pink-and-white, middle-aged, fattish and obviously futile, watched himwith increasing nervousness. He would surely break something; or, beingby a window when the impulse to depart seized him, would leap through,taking sash, curtains and all with him.

  "Perhaps we'd better go outdoors," suggested she. She felt veryhelpless, as usual. It was from her that Lucia inherited her lazinessand her taste for that most indolent of all the dissipations, thereading of love stories.

  "Outdoors?" exploded Craig, wheeling on her, as if he had previouslybeen unconscious of her presence. "No. We'll sit here. I want to talk toyou."

  And he plumped himself into a chair near by, his claw-like hands uponhis knees, his keen eyes and beak-like nose bent toward her. Mrs.Severence visibly shrank. She felt as if that handsome, predatory facewere pressed against the very window of her inmost soul.

  "You wish to talk to me," she echoed, with a feeble conciliatory smile.

  "About your daughter," said Craig, still more curt and aggressive. "Mrs.Severence, your daughter ought to get married."

  Roxana Severence was so amazed that her mouth dropped open. "Married?"she echoed, as if her ears had deceived her.

  The colossal impudence of it! This young man, this extremely commonyoung man, daring to talk to her about such a private matter! And shehad not yet known him a month; and only within the last fortnight had hebeen making frequent visits--entirely on his own invitation, for shecertainly would not overtly provoke such a visitation as his comingmeant. Mrs. Severence would have been angry had she dared. But Craig'smanner was most alarming; what would--what would not a person soindifferent to the decencies of life do if he were crossed?

  "She must get married," pursued Craig firmly. "Do you know why I've beencoming here these past two or three weeks?"

  Mrs. Severence was astounded anew. The man was actually about to proposefor her daughter! This common man, with nothing!

  "It's not my habit to make purposeless visits," continued he,"especially among frivolous, idle people like you. I've been coming hereto make a study of your daughter."

  He paused. Mrs. Severence gave a feeble, frightened smile, made a soundthat might have been mirth and again might have been the beginnings of ahastily-suppressed call for help.

  "And," Craig went on energetically, "I find that she is a very superiorsort of person. In another environment she might have been a big, strongwoman. She's amazing, considering the sickly, sycophantic atmosphereshe's been brought up in. Now, I want to see her married. She'sthoroughly discontented and unhappy. She's becoming sour and cynical. WEmust get her married. It's your duty to rouse yourself."

  Mrs. Severence did rouse herself just at this moment. Cheeks aflame andvoice trembling, she stood and said:

  "You are very kind, Mr. Craig, to offer to assist me in bringing up myfamily. Surely--such--such interest is unusual on brief and very slightacquaintance." She rang the bell. "I can show my appreciation in onlyone way." The old butler, Williams, appeared. "Williams, show thisgentlemen out." And she left the room.

  Williams, all frigid dignity and politeness, stood at the large entrancedoors, significantly holding aside one curtain. Craig rose, his facered. "Mrs. Severence isn't very well," said he noisily to the servant,as if he were on terms of closest intimacy with the family. "TellMargaret I'll wait for her in the garden." And he rushed out by thewindow that opened on the veranda, leaving the amazed butler at thedoor, uncertain what to do.

  Mrs. Severence, ascending the stairs in high good humor with herself athaving handled a sudden and difficult situation as well as she had everread of its being handled in a novel, met her daughter descending.

  "Sh-h!" said she in a whisper, for she had not heard the front doorclose. "He may not be gone. Come with me."

  Margaret followed her mother into the library at the head of the stairs.

  "It was that Craig man," explained Mrs. Severence, when she had the doorclosed. "What DO you think he had the impudence to do?"

  "I'm sure I can't imagine," said Margaret, impatient.

  "He proposed for you!"

  Margaret reflected a brief instant. "Nonsense!" she said decisively."He's not that kind. You misunderstood him."

  "I tell you he did!" cried her mother. "And I ordered him out of thehouse."

  "What?" screamed Margaret, clutching her mother's arm. "WHAT?"

  "I ordered him out of the house," stammered her mother.

  "I wish you'd stick to your novels and let me attend to my own affairs,"cried Margaret, pale with fury. "Is he gone?"

  "I left Williams attending to it. Surely, Rita--"

  But Margaret had flung the door open and was darting down the stairs."Where is he?" she demanded fiercely of Williams, still in thedrawing-room doorway.

  "In the garden, ma'am," said Williams. "He didn't pay no attention."

  But Margaret was rushing through the drawing-room. At the French
windowsshe caught sight of him, walking up and down in his usual quick, alertmanner, now smelling flowers, now staring up into the trees, nowscrutinizing the upper windows of the house. She drew back, waited untilshe had got her breath and had composed her features. Then, with thelong skirts of her graceful pale-blue dress trailing behind her, and abig white sunshade open and resting upon her shoulder, she went down theveranda steps and across the lawn toward him. He paused, gazed at her infrank--vulgarly frank--admiration; just then, it seemed to her, he neversaid or did or looked anything except in the vulgarest way.

  "You certainly are a costly-looking luxury," said he loudly, when therewere still a dozen yards between them. "Oh, there's your mother at thewindow, upstairs--her bedroom window."

  "How did you know it was her bedroom?" asked Margaret.

  "While I was waiting for you to come down one day I sent for one of theservants and had him explain the lay of the house."

  "Really!" said Margaret, satirical and amused. "I suppose there was nomail on the table or you'd have read that while you waited?"

  "There you go, trying to say clever, insulting things. Why not be frank?Why not be direct?"

  "Why should I, simply because YOU wish it? You don't half realize howamusing you are."

  "Oh, yes, I do," retorted he, with a shrewd, quick glance from thoseall-seeing eyes of his.

  "Half, I said. You do half realize. I told you once before that I knewwhat a fraud you were."

  "I play my game in my own way," evaded he; "and it seems to be doingnicely, thank you."

  "But the further you go, the harder it'll be for you to progress."

  "Then the harder for those opposing me. I don't make it easy for thosewho are making it hard for me. I get 'em so busy nursing their ownwounds that they've no longer time to bother me. I've told you before,and I tell you again, I shall go where I please."

  "Let me see," laughed Margaret; "it was Napoleon--wasn't it?--who usedto talk that way?"

  "And you think I'm imitating him, eh?"

  "You do suggest it very often."

  "I despise him. A wicked, little, dago charlatan who was put out ofbusiness as soon as he was really opposed. No!--no Waterloo for me!...How's your mother? She got sick while I was talking to her and had toleave the room."

  "Yes, I know," said Margaret.

  "You ought to make her take more exercise. Don't let her set foot in acarriage. We are animals, and nature has provided that animals shallwalk to keep in health. Walking and things like that are the only sanemodes of getting about. Everything aristocratic is silly. As soon as webegin to rear and strut we stumble into our graves--But it's no use totalk to you about that. I came on another matter."

  Margaret's lips tightened; she hastily veiled her eyes.

  "I've taken a great fancy to you," Craig went on. "That's why I'vewasted so much time on you. What you need is a husband--a good husband.Am I not right?"

  Margaret, pale, said faintly: "Go on."

  "You know I'm right. Every man and every woman ought to marry. Ahome--children--THAT'S life. The rest is all incidental--trivial. Do yousuppose I could work as I do if it wasn't that I'm getting ready to be afamily man? I need love--sympathy--tenderness. People think I'm hard andambitious. But they don't know. I've got a heart, overflowing withtenderness, as some woman'll find out some day. But I didn't come totalk about myself."

  Margaret made a movement of surprise--involuntary, startled.

  "No, I don't always talk about myself," Craig went on; "and I'll let youinto a secret. I don't THINK about myself nearly so much as many ofthese chaps who never speak of themselves. However, as I was saying, I'mgoing to get you a husband. Now, don't you get sick, as your mother did.Be sensible. Trust me. I'll see you through--and that's more than any ofthese cheap, shallow people round you would do."

  "Well?" said Margaret.

  "You and Grant Arkwright are going to marry. Now don't pretend--don'tprotest. It's the proper thing and it must be done. You like him?"

  As Craig was looking sharply at her she felt she must answer. She made avague gesture of assent.

  "Of course!" said Craig. "If you and he led a natural life you'd havebeen married long ago. Now, I'm going to dine with him to-night. I'lllay the case before him. He'll be out here after you to-morrow."

  Margaret trembled with anger. Two bright spots burned in her cheeks."You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "No, not even you!"

  "And why not?" demanded Craig calmly. "Do you suppose I'm going to standidly by, and let two friends of mine, two people I'm as fond of as I amof you two creatures, make fools of yourselves? No. I shall bring youtogether."

  Margaret rose. "If you say a word to Grant I'll never speak to youagain. And I assure you I shouldn't marry HIM if he were the last man onearth."

  "If you only knew men better!" exclaimed Craig earnestly. His eyesfascinated her, and his sharp, penetrating voice somehow seemed to reachto her very soul and seize it and hold it enthralled. "My dear child,Grant Arkwright is one man in a million. I've been with him in timesthat show men's qualities. Don't judge men by what they are ordinarily.They don't reveal their real selves. Wait till a crisis comes--then yousee manhood or lack of it. Life is bearable, at the worst, for any of usin the routine. But when the crisis comes we need, not only all our ownstrength, but all we can rally to our support. I tell you, MissSeverence, Grant is one of the men that can be relied on. I despise hissurface--as I do yours. But it's because I see the man--themanhood--beneath that surface, that I love him. And I want him to have awoman worthy of him. That means YOU. You, too, have the soul that makesa human being--a real aristocrat--of the aristocracy, of strong andhonest hearts."

  Craig's face was splendid, was ethereal in its beauty, yet flashing withmanliness. He looked as she had seen him that night two years before,when he had held even her and her worldly friends spellbound, had madethem thrill with ideas of nobility and human helpfulness foreign totheir everyday selves. She sat silent when he had finished, presentlydrew a long breath.

  "Why aren't you always like that?" she exclaimed half to herself.

  "You'll marry Grant?"

  She shook her head positively. "Impossible."

  "Why not?"

  "Impossible," she repeated. "And you mustn't speak of it to me--or tohim. I appreciate your motive. I thank you--really, I do. It makes mefeel better, somehow, to have had any one think so well of me as you do.And Grant ought to be proud of your friendship."

  Their eyes met. She flushed to the line of her hair and her glance fell,for she felt utterly ashamed of herself for the design upon him whichshe had been harboring. "Let us go in and join the others," said sheconfusedly. And her color fled, returned in a flood.

  "No, I'm off," replied he, in his ordinary, sharp, bustling way. "I'mnot defeated. I've done well--very well, for a beginning." And he gaveher hand his usual firm, uncomfortable clasp, and rushed away.

  She walked up and down full fifteen minutes before she went toward thehouse. At the veranda Lucia intercepted her. "Did he?" she askedanxiously.

  Margaret looked at her vaguely, then smiled. "No, he did not."

  "He didn't?" exclaimed Lucia, at once disappointed and relieved.

  "Not yet," said Margaret. She laughed, patted Lucia's full-blown cheek."Not quite yet." And she went on in to tea, humming to herself gayly;she did not understand her own sudden exceeding high spirits.