The Brown Study

  XII

  BROWN'S OLD WORLD

  On a certain morning in February, Mrs. Hugh Breckenridge alighted inhaste from her limousine in front of a stately apartment house in thebest quarter of a great city. She hurried through the entrance hall tothe lift and was taken up with smooth speed to the seventh story. In aminute more she was eagerly pressing the button at the door of a familiarsuite of rooms into which she had not had occasion to enter for more thana year, for the very good reason that they had been closed and unoccupiedin the absence of their tenant.

  The returned tenant himself opened the door to her, a tall figure loomingin the dusk of an unlighted corridor--a tall figure infinitely dear toSue Breckenridge.

  "O Don!" cried the visitor in an accusing tone. "How could you come backwithout letting us know?"

  "I've been back only an hour," explained Donald Brown, submitting to andwarmly returning his sister's embrace. "How in the world did you hear ofit so soon? Did Brainard--"

  She nodded. "Mrs. Brainard called me up at once, of course. She knew youcouldn't be serious in trying to keep people from knowing you were here,least of all your sister!"

  "I was intending to come to you before luncheon; I only meant to surpriseyou. As for the rest--I should be glad if they needn't know; at leastuntil I'm ready to leave."

  "To leave! Don! You're not going to persist in going back! It can't betrue! You won't give up this apartment--tell me you won't!"

  His sister's tone was anguished. Before he answered Brown led her intothe library of the suite, the room in which he had been occupied when herring came, and put her into a big arm-chair, taking from her her wrap andfurs. Then he sat down upon the edge of a massive mahogany writing-tablenear by, crossing his long legs and folding his arms, while she mutelywaited for him to speak.

  "Sue," he said--and his face had in it a sort of reflection of the painin hers--"you may be sure I haven't come to this decision without a dealof thought. But I've made it, and I'm going to stick to it because Ibelieve it's the thing for me to do. I assure you that since I came intothese rooms they have been beseeching me, as loudly as inanimate thingscan not to desert them. I'm going to find it the hardest task of my lifeto take leave of them."

  "Don't take leave of them! Lock them up for another year, if you mustpersist in your experiment, but don't, _don't_ burn your bridges behindyou! Oh, how can you think of leaving your splendid church and going offto consign yourself to oblivion, living with poor people the rest ofyour days? You--_you_--Don!--I can't believe it of you!"

  His face, in his effort at repression, grew stern. His folded arms becametense in the muscles.

  "Don't make it harder for me than it is. I can't discuss it with you,because though I argued till I was dumb I could never make you see what Isee. Accept my decision, Sue dear, and don't try my soul by pleading withme.... I have a lot to do. I should like your help. See here, would youcare to have any of my things? Look about you. This is rather a good rugunder your feet. Will you have it--and any others you fancy?"

  She looked down at the heavy Eastern rug, exquisite in its softness andrichness of colouring.

  It was one of which, knowing its value, she had long envied herbrother the possession. She put up her hand and brushed away the mistfrom her eyes.

  "Aren't you going to take _any_ comfortable things with you? Are yougoing to go on living on pine chairs and rag carpets--you, who werebrought up on rugs like this?"

  He nodded. "For the most part. I've been wondering if I might indulgemyself in one big easy chair, just for old times. But I'm afraid itwon't do."

  "Oh, mercy, Don! Why _not_?"

  "How should I explain its presence, opposite my red-cushioned rocker?Give it a good look, Sue, that chair, and tell me honestly if I canafford to introduce such an incongruous note into my plain bachelor houseup there."

  She surveyed the chair in question, a luxurious and costly type standingfor the last word in masculine comfort and taste. It was one which hadbeen given to Brown by Webb Atchison, and had long been a favourite.

  "Oh, I don't know," she said hopelessly, shaking her head. "I can'tdecide for any monk what he shall take into his cell."

  Brown flushed, a peculiar dull red creeping up under his dark skin. Hesmothered the retort on his lips, however, and when he did speak it waswith entire control, though there was, nevertheless, an uncompromisingquality in his inflection which for the moment silenced his sister as ifhe had laid his hand upon her mouth.

  "Understand me, once for all, Sue--if you can. I am going into nomonastery. To such a man as I naturally am, I am going out of what hasbeen a sheltered life into one in the open. You think of me as retiringfrom the world. Instead of that, I am just getting into the fight. And tofight well--I must go stripped."

  She shook her head again and walked over to the window, struggling withvery real emotion. At once he was beside her, and his arm was about hershoulders. He spoke very gently now.

  "Don't take it so hard, dear girl. I'm not going to be so far away that Ican never come back. You will see me from time to time. I couldn't get onwithout my one sister--with father and mother gone, and the brothers atthe other side of the world. Come, cheer up, and help me decide whatdisposal to make of my stuff. Will you take the most of it?"

  She turned about, presently, dried her eyes determinedly, and surveyedthe room. It was a beautiful room, the sombre hues of its book-linedwalls relieved by the rich and mellow tones of its rugs and draperies,the distinguished furnishings of the writing-table, and the subdued gleamof a wonderful reading-lamp of wrought copper which had been given toBrown by Sue herself.

  "If you will let me," she said, "I'll give up one room to your things andput all these into it. Aren't you even going to take your books?"

  "I must--a couple of hundred, at least. I can't give up such old friendsas these."

  "A couple of hundred--out of a couple of thousand!"

  "There are five thousand in this room," said Brown cheerfully. "But twohundred will give me a very good selection of favourites, and I canchange them from time to time. I have sixty or seventy already withme.... Hello! Who can that be? Has Brainard been giving me away rightand left?"

  He answered the ring, and admitted Webb Atchison, rosy of cheek andrather lordly of appearance, as always. The bachelor came in,frowning even as he smiled, and bringing to Donald Brown a vividsuggestion of old days.

  "Caught!" he cried, shaking hands. "Thought you could sneak in and outof town like a thief in the night, did you? It can't be done, old man."

  He was in a hurry and could stay but ten minutes. Five of those hedevoted to telling Brown what he thought of the news he had heard, bywhich he understood that St. Timothy's was to lose permanently the manwhom it had expected soon to have back. Brown listened with head a littledown-bent, arms folded again, lips set in lines of determination. He hadbeen fully prepared for the onslaughts of his friends, but that facthardly seemed to make it easier to meet them. When Atchison had deliveredhimself uninterrupted, Brown lifted his head with a smile.

  "Through, Webb?" he asked.

  "No, I'm not through, by a long shot, but it's all I have time for now,for I came on a different matter. Since I heard you were here I've beentelephoning around, and I've got together a little dinner-party forto-night that you won't evade if you have a particle of real affectionfor me. I'm not going to be cheated out of it. It'll be a hastilyarranged affair, but there may be something decent to eat and drink.Brainard tells me you're not going to linger in town an hour after yourbusiness is done, so I thought best to lose no time. You'll come, ofcourse? The way you're looking just now I don't know but you're equal torefusing me even such a small favour as this one!"

  Brown crossed the room, to lay his hands on Atchison's shoulders. Hiseyes were dark with suppressed feeling.

  "My dear old friend," said he affectionately, "I wish you wouldn't takethe thing this way. I'm not dealing blows at those I love; if I'm dealingthem at anybody it's at myself. I can't possibly tell y
ou what it meansto me--this crisis. I can only ask you not to think hardly of me. As forthe dinner, if it will please you to have me agree to it I will, only--Ishould a little rather have you stand me up against a wall and take ashot at me!"

  "For a deserter?"

  Atchison spoke out of his grief and anger, not from belief in the motivehe imputed. When he saw Donald Brown turn white and clench the hands hedropped from his friend's shoulders, Atchison realized what he had done.He winced under the sting of the quick and imperious command whichanswered him:

  "Take that back, Webb!"

  "I do--and apologize," said the other man instantly, and tears smartedunder his eyelids. "You know I didn't mean it, Don. But--hang itall!--I'm bitterly disappointed and I can't help showing it."

  "Disappointed in me--or in my act?" Brown was still stern.

  "In your act, of course. I'm bound to acknowledge that it must take abrave man to cut cables the way you're doing--a mighty brave man."

  "I don't care about being considered brave, but I won't be calleda coward."

  "I thought," said Atchison, trying to smile, "there was something in yourBible about turning the other cheek."

  "There is," said Brown steadily. "And I do it when I come to your dinner.But between now and then I'll knock you down if you insult the courseI've laid out for myself."

  The two men gazed at each other, the one the thorough man of the worldwith every sign of its prospering touch upon him, the other lookingsomehow more like a lean and hardened young soldier of the army than astudent of theology. Both pairs of eyes softened. But it was Atchison'swhich gave way first.

  "Confound you, Don--it's because of that splendidly human streak in youthat we love you here. You've always seemed to have enough personalacquaintance with the Devil and his works to make you understand the restof us, and refrain from being too hard on us."

  At which Sue Breckenridge--who had been listening with tense-strungnerves to the interview taking place in her presence--laughed, with anhysterical little sob shaking her. Both men looked at her.

  "Poor Sue," said Brown. "She doesn't like to have you quarrel with me,yet it's all she can do to keep from quarrelling with me herself! Betweenyou, if you don't undermine my purpose, it will be only because I've beenpreparing my defenses for a good while and have strong patrols out at theweak points."

  "I give you fair warning, I'll undermine it yet if I can," and Atchisongripped Brown's hand with fervor before he went away, charging SueBreckenridge with the responsibility of bringing her brother to thedinner to be given that evening.

  "Now, what"--said Brown, turning to his writing-table when Atchison hadgone, and absently picking up a bronze paper-weight which laythere--"put it into his head to fire a dinner at me the moment he knew Iwas here?"

  "We all have a suspicion," said Sue, watching him as she spoke, "that heand Helena are ready to announce their engagement. It may have poppedinto his head that with you here it was just the time to do it. Ofcourse," she went on hurriedly, in answer to something she thought shesaw leap into her brother's face, "we don't absolutely know that they'reengaged. He's been devoted for a good while, and since he's never beenmuch that sort with women it looks as if it meant something."

  "It looks it on his part," said Brown, opening a drawer in the table andappearing to search therein. "Does it look it on hers?"

  "Not markedly so. But Helena's getting on--she must be twenty-six orseven--and she always seems happy with him. Of course that's no evidence,for she has such a charmingly clever way with men you never can tell whenshe's bored--and certainly they can't. It's just that it seems such asplendidly fitting match we're confident there's ground for ourexpectations."

  "I see. Altogether, that dinner promises well for sensations--of one sortor another. Meanwhile, shall we pitch into business?"

  Together they went through Brown's apartment, which was a large one, andcomprised everything which he had once considered necessary to thecomfort of a bachelor establishment. As he looked over that portion ofthe place pertaining to the cooking and serving of food he smiled rathergrimly at the contrast it inevitably brought to his mind. Standing beforethe well-filled shelves in the butler's pantry he eyed a certaincherished set of S?vres china, thinking of the cheap blue-and-white warewhich now filled all his needs, and recalling with a sense of amusementthe days, not so long past, when he would have considered himself illserved had his breakfast appeared in such dishes.

  "It's all in the way you look at it, Sue," he exclaimed, opening thedoors of leaded glass and taking down a particularly choice example ofthe ceramic art in the shape of a large Satsuma plate. "Look at that,now! Why should a chop taste any better off that plate than off the one Iate from this morning at daybreak? It tastes no better--I vow it doesn'ttaste as good. I've a keener appetite now than last year, when Sing Lee,my Chinese cook, was cudgelling his Asiatic brains to tempt me."

  "That's not the way I look at it," Sue answered mournfully. "To me itmakes all the difference in the world how food is served, not to mentionhow it is cooked. Do you ever have anything but bacon and eggs at thatdreadful place of yours?"

  "Bless your heart, yes! I don't deny myself good food, child--get thatout of your mind. Why, just night before last Jennings and I had anoyster roast, on the half-shell, over the coals in my fireplace. My word,but they were good! If Webb can give us anything better than thatto-night he'll surprise me."

  "Who is Jennings? A laundryman or a policeman?"

  "Neither. Jennings is a clerk in the office of a great wholesale hardwarehouse. He was down on his luck, a while back, but he's pulled out of histrouble. When his wife's called out of town, as she often is by the oldpeople back home, he keeps me company. He's particularly fond of roastedoysters, is Jennings, since a certain night when I introduced them to hisunaccustomed palate. It's great fun to see him devour them."

  Sue shook her head again. She could seem to do little else these days,being in a perpetual state of wonder and regret over that which she couldnot understand--quite as her brother had said. He sent her away an hourbefore luncheon time, telling her that he would follow when he hadattended to certain matters in which she could not help. Having put herinto her car, he waved a cheery hand at her as she drove away, andreturned to his apartment. He lingered a little at the lift to ask afterthe welfare of the young man who operated it, whom he had known in pastdays; but presently he was in his library again with the door lockedbehind him. And here for a brief space business was suspended.

  Before the big leather chair he fell upon his knees, burying his headin his arms.

  "_Oh, good Father_,'" said Brown, just above his breath, "_only Thoucanst help me through this thing. It's even harder than I thought itwould be. I want the old life, I want the old love--my heart is weakwithin me at the thought of giving them up.... I know the temptationcomes not from without but from within. It's my own weak self that is myenemy, not the lure of the life I'm giving up.... Give mestrength--fighting strength.... Help me--'not to give in while I canstand and see_.'"

  Presently he rose to his feet. He was pale, but in his face showed therenewed strength of purpose he had asked for. He set about the task ofpacking the few things he meant to take with him, working with a certainunhurried efficiency which accomplished no small amount in that hourbefore luncheon. Then he descended to find his sister's car waiting forhim, and was whirled away.