The High Heart

  CHAPTER IX

  On that first morning I got no more than the gist of what had happenedduring Hugh's visit to his cousin Andrew Brew. Hugh announced it in factby a metaphor as soon as we had exchanged greetings and he had sat downat the table with his arm over Gladys's shoulder.

  "Well, little Alix, I got it where the chicken got the ax."

  "Where was that?" I asked, innocently, for the figure of speech was newto me.

  "In the neck."

  Neither of us laughed. His tone was so lugubrious as to precludelaughing. But I understood. I may say that by the time he had given methe outline of what he had to say I understood more than he. I mighthave seen poor Hugh's limitations before; but I never had. During theold life in Halifax I had known plenty of young men brought up incomfort who couldn't earn a living when the time came to do it. If I hadnever classed Hugh among the number, it was because the Brokenshireswere all so rich that I supposed they must have some secret prescriptionfor wringing money from the air. Besides, Hugh was an American; andAmerican and money were words I was accustomed to pronounce together. Inever questioned his ability to have any reasonable income henamed--till now. Now I began to see him as he must have seen himselfduring those first few minutes after turning his back on the parentalhaven, alone and in the dark.

  I cannot say that for the moment I had any of the qualms of fear. Myyearning over him was too motherly for that. I wanted to comfort and, asfar as possible, to encourage him. Something within me whispered, too,the words, "It's going to be up to me." I meant--or that which spoke inme meant--that the whole position was reversed. I had been taking myease hitherto, believing that the strong young man who had asked me tomarry him would do the necessary work. It was to be up to him. My partwas to be the passive bliss of having some one to love me and maintainme. That Hugh loved me I knew; that in one way or another he would beable to maintain me I took for granted. With a Brokenshire, I assumed,that would be the last of cares. And now I saw in a flash that I waswrong; that I who was nothing but a parasite by nature would somehowhave to give my strong young man support.

  When all was said that he could say at the moment I took theresponsibility of sending Gladys indoors with the maid who was waitingon the table, after which I asked Hugh to walk down the lawn with me. Astone balustrade ran above the Cliff Walk, and here was a bit ofshrubbery where no one could observe us from the house, while passers onthe Cliff Walk could see us only by looking upward. At that hour in themorning even they were likely to be rare.

  "Hugh, darling," I said, "this is becoming very, very serious. You'rethrowing yourself out of house and home and your father's good-will formy sake. We must think about it, Hugh--"

  His answer was to seize me in his arms--we were sufficiently screenedfrom view--and crush his lips against mine in a way that made speechimpossible.

  Again I must make a confession. It was his doing that sort of thing thatparalyzed my judgment. You will blame me, perhaps, but, oh, reader, haveyou any idea of what it is never to have had a man wild to kiss youbefore? Never before to have had any one adore you? Never before to havebeen the greatest of all blessings to so much as the least among hisbrethren? The experience was new to me. I had no rule of thumb by whichto measure it. I could only think that the man who wanted me with so mada desire must have me, no matter what reserves I might have preferred tomake on my own account.

  I struggled, however, and with some success. For the first time Iclearly perceived that occasions might arise in which, between love andmarriage, one might have to make a distinction. Ethel Rossiter's dictumcame back to me: "People can't go about marrying every one they love,now can they?" It came to me as a terrible possibility that I might bedoomed to love Hugh all my life, and equally doomed to refuse him. If Ididn't, the responsibilities would be "up to me." If besides loving himI were to accept him and marry him, it would be for me to see that theone possible condition was fulfilled. I should have to bring J. Howardto his knees.

  When he got breath to say anything it was with a mere hot muttering intomy face, as he held me with my head thrown back:

  "I know what I'm doing, little Alix. You mustn't ask me to count thecost. The cost only makes you the more precious. Since I have to sufferfor you I'll suffer, but I'll never give you up. Do you take me for afellow who'd weigh money or comfort in the balances with you?"

  "No, Hugh," I whispered. His embrace was enough to strangle me.

  "Well, then, never ask me to think about this thing again, I've thoughtall I'm going to. As I mean to get you anyhow, little Alix, you may aswell promise now, this very minute, that whatever happens you'll be mywife."

  But I didn't promise. First I got him to release me on the ground thatsome bathers, after a dip at Eastons Beach, were going by, with theirheads on a level with our feet. Then I asked the natural question:

  "What do you think of doing now?"

  He said he was going to let no mushrooms spring in his footsteps, andthat he was taking a morning train for New York. He talked about bankersand brokers and moneyed things in general in a way I couldn't follow,though I could see that in spite of Cousin Andrew Brew's rejection hestill expected great things of himself. Like me, he seemed to feel thatthere was a faculty for conjuring money in the very name of Brokenshire.Never having known what it was to be without as much money as he wanted,never having been given to suppose that such an eventuality could cometo pass, it was perhaps not strange that he should consider his power ofcommanding a large income to be in the nature of things. Bankers andbrokers would be glad to have him as their associate from the mere factthat he was his father's son.

  I endeavored to throw a cup of cold water on too much certainty, bysaying:

  "But, Hugh, dear, won't you have to begin at the beginning? Wasn't thatwhat your cousin Andrew Brew--?"

  "Cousin Andrew Brew is an ass. He's one great big Bostonstick-in-the-mud. He wouldn't know which side his bread was buttered on,not if it was buttered on both."

  "Still," I persisted, "you'll have to begin at the beginning."

  "Well, I shouldn't be the first."

  "No, but you might be the first to do it with a clog round his feet inthe shape of a person like me. How many years did your cousinsay--twenty or thirty, wasn't it?"

  "R-rot, little Alix!" He brought out the interjection with acontemptuous roll. "It might be twenty or thirty years for a numskulllike Duffers, but for me! There are ways by which a man who's in thebusiness already, as you might say, goes skimming over the ground thecommon herd have to tramp. Look at the gentlemen-rankers in your ownarmy. They enlist as privates, and in two or three years they're in theofficers' mess with a commission. That comes of their education and--"

  "That's often true, I admit. I've known of several cases in my ownexperience. But even two or three years--"

  "Wouldn't you wait for me?"

  He asked the question with a sharpness that gave me something like astab.

  "Yes, of course, Hugh, if I promised you. And yet to bind you by such apromise doesn't seem to me fair."

  "I'll take care of that," he declared, manfully. "As a matter of fact,when father sees how determined I am, he'll only be too happy to do thehandsome thing and come down with the brass."

  "You think he's bluffing then?" I threw some conviction into my tone asI added, "I don't."

  "He's not bluffing to his own knowledge; but he is--"

  "To yours. But isn't it his knowledge that we've got to go by? We mustexpect the worst, even if we hope for the best."

  "And what it all comes to is--"

  "Is that you're facing a very hard time, Hugh, and I don't feel that Ican accept the responsibility of encouraging you to do it."

  "But, good Lord, Alix, you're not encouraging me. It's the other wayround. You're a perfect wet blanket; you're an ice-water shower. I'mdoing this thing on my own--"

  "You know, Hugh, I've seen your father since you went away."

  His face brightened.

  "Good! And did he show any signs
of tacking to the wind?"

  "Not a bit. He said you would be ruined, and that I should ruin you."

  "The deuce you will! That's where he's got the wrong number, poor olddad! I hope you told him you would marry me--and let him have itstraight."

  I made no reply to that, going on to tell him all that was said as tobringing J. Howard to his knees.

  He roared with ironic laughter.

  "You did have the gall!"

  "Then you think they'll never, never accept me?"

  "Not that way; not beforehand."

  Hot rage rose within me, against him and them and this scorn of mypersonality.

  "I think they will."

  "Not on your life! Dad wouldn't do it, not if I was on my death-bed andneeded you to come and raise me up. Milly is the only one; and even shethinks I'm the craziest idiot--"

  "Very well, then, Hugh," I said, quickly; "I'm afraid we must considerit all--"

  He gathered me into his arms as he had done before, and once morestopped my protests. Once more, too, I yielded to this masculineargument.

  "For you and me there's nothing but love," he murmured, with his cheekpressed close against mine.

  "Oh no, Hugh," I managed to say, when I had struggled free. "There'shonor--and perhaps there's pride." It gave some relief to what Iconceived of as the humiliation he unconsciously heaped on me to be ableto add: "As a matter of fact, pride and honor, in me, are as inseparableas the oxygen and hydrogen that go to make up water."

  He was obliged to leave it there, since he had no more than the time tocatch his train for New York. It was, however, the sense of pride andhonor that calmed my nerves when Mrs. Rossiter asked me to take littleGladys to see her grandfather in the afternoon. I had done it from timeto time all through the summer, but not since Hugh had declared his lovefor me. If I went now, I reasoned, it would have to be on a new footing;and if it was on a new footing something might come of the visit inspite of my fears.

  We started a little after three, as Gladys had to be back in time forher early supper and bed. Chips, the wire-haired terrier, was nominallyat our heels, but actually nosing the shrubbery in front of us, orscouring the lawns on our right with a challenging bark to any of hiskind who might be within earshot to come down and contest our passage.

  "_Qu'il est drole, ce Chips! N'est-ce-pas, mademoiselle?_" Gladys wouldexclaim from time to time, to which I would make some suitable andinstructive rejoinder.

  Her hand was in mine; her eyes as they laughed up at me were of thecolor of the blue convolvulus. In her little smocked liberty silk, witha leghorn hat trimmed with a wreath of tiny roses, she made me yearn forthat bassinet between which and myself there were such stormy seas tocross. Everything was to be up to me. That was the great solemnity fromwhich my mind couldn't get away. I was to be the David to confrontGoliath, without so much as a sling or a stone. What I was to do, andhow I was to do it, I knew no more than I knew of commanding an army. Icould only take my stand on the maxim of which I was making afoundation-stone. I went so far as to believe that if I did right moreright would unfold itself. It would be like following a trail through adifficult wood, a trail of which you observe all the notches and stepsand signs, sometimes with misgivings, often with the fear that you'reastray, but on which a moment arrives when you see with delight thatyou're coming out to the clearing. So I argued as I prattled with Gladysof such things as were in sight, of ships and lobster-pots and littledogs, giving her a new word as occasion served, and trying to keep mymind from terrors and remote anticipations.

  If you know Newport at all you know J. Howard Brokenshire's place in theneighborhood of Ochre Point. Anyone would name it as you passed by. J.Howard didn't build the house; he bought it from some people who, itseemed, hadn't found in Newport the hospitality of which they were insearch. It is gloomy and fortress-like, as if the architect had planneda Palazzo Strozzi which he hadn't the courage to carry out. That it isincongruous with its surroundings goes without saying; but then it isnot more incongruous than anything else. I had been long enough inAmerica to see that for the man who could build on American soil a housewhich would have some relation to its site--as they can do in Mexico,and as we do to a lesser degree in Canada--fame and fortune would be instore.

  The entrance hall was baronial and richly Italianate. One's firstimpressions were of gilding and red damask. When one's eye lighted on achest or settle, one could smell the stale incense in a Sienese or Pisansacristy. At the foot of the great stairway ebony slaves held gildedtorches in which were electric lights.

  Both the greyhounds came sniffing to meet Chips, and J. Howard, who hadseen our approach across the lawn as we came from the Cliff Walk,emerged from the library to welcome his grandchild. He wore a suit oflight-gray check, and was as imposingly handsome as usual. Gladys ran togreet him with a childish cry. On seizing her he tossed her into the airand kissed her.

  I stood in the middle of the hall, waiting. On previous occasions I haddone the same thing; but then I had not been, as one might say,"introduced." I wondered if he would acknowledge the introduction now orgive me a glance. But he didn't. Setting Gladys down, he took her by thehand and returned to the library.

  There was nothing new in this. It had happened to me before. Left likean empty motor-car till there was need for me again, I had sometimesseated myself in one of the huge ecclesiastical hall chairs, andsometimes, if the door chanced to be open, had wandered out to theveranda. As it was open this afternoon, I strolled toward the glimpse ofgreen lawn, and the sparkle of blue sea which gleamed at the end of thehall.

  It was a possibility I had foreseen. Mrs. Brokenshire might be there. Imight get into further touch with the mystery of her heart.

  Mrs. Brokenshire was not on the veranda, but Mrs. Billing was. She wasseated in a low easy-chair, reading a French novel, and had been smokingcigarettes. An inlaid Oriental taboret, on which were a goldcigarette-case and ash-tray, stood beside her on the red-tiled floor.

  I had forgotten all about her, as seemingly she had forgotten about me.Her surprise in seeing me appear was not greater than mine at findingher. Instinctively she took up her lorgnette, which was lying in herlap, but put it down without using it.

  "So it's you," was her greeting.

  "I beg your pardon, madam," I stammered, respectfully. "I didn't knowthere was anybody here."

  I was about to withdraw when she said, commandingly:

  "Wait." I waited, while she went on: "You're a little spitfire. Did youknow it?"

  The voice was harsh, with the Quaker drawl I have noticed in the oldergeneration of Philadelphians; but the tone wasn't hostile. On thecontrary, there was something in it that invited me to play up. I playedup, demurely, however, saying, with a more emphatic respectfulness:

  "No, madam; I didn't."

  "Well, you can know it now. Who are you?" She made the quaint littlegesture with which I have seen English princesses summon those theywished to talk to. "Come over here where I can get a look at you."

  I moved nearer, but she didn't ask me to sit down. In answer to herquestion I said, simply, "I'm a Canadian."

  "Oh, a Canadian! That's neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. It's nothing."

  "No, madam, nothing but a point of view."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  I repeated something of my father's:

  "The point of view of the Englishman who understands America or of theAmerican who understands England, as one chooses to put it. The Canadianis the only person who does both."

  "Oh, indeed? I'm not a Canadian--and yet I flatter myself I know myEngland pretty well."

  I made so bold as to smile dimly.

  "Knowing and understanding are different things, madam, aren't they? TheCanadian understands America because he is an American; he understandsEngland because he is an Englishman. It's only of him that that can besaid. You're quite right when you label him a point of view rather thana citizen or a subject."

  "I didn't label him anything of the kind. I don't know an
ything abouthim, and I don't care. What are you besides being a Canadian?"

  "Nothing, madam," I said, humbly.

  "Nothing? What do you mean?"

  "I mean that there's nothing about me, that I have or am, that I don'towe to my country."

  "Oh, stuff! That's the way we used to talk in the United States fortyyears ago."

  "That's the way we talk in Canada still, madam--and feel."

  "Oh, well, you'll get over it as we did--when you're more of a people."

  "Most of us would prefer to be less of a people, and not get over it."

  She put up her lorgnette.

  "Who was your father? What sort of people do you come from?"

  I tried to bring out my small store of personal facts, but she paid themno attention. When I said that my father had been a judge of theSupreme Court of Nova Scotia I might have been calling him a voivode ofMontenegro or the president of a zemstvo. It was too remote from herselffor her mind to take in. I could see her, however, examining myfeatures, my hands, my dress, with the shrewd, sharp eyes of aconnoisseur in feminine appearance.

  She broke into the midst of my recital with the words:

  "You can't be in love with Hugh Brokenshire."

  Fearing attack from an unexpected quarter, I clasped my hands with someemotion.

  "Oh, but, madam, why not?"

  The reply nearly knocked me down.

  "Because you're too sensible a girl. He's as stupid as an owl."

  "He's very good and kind," was all I could find to say.

  "Yes; but what's that? A girl like you needs more than a man who's onlygood and kind. Heavens above, you'll want some spice in your life!"

  I maintained my meek air as I said:

  "I could do without the spice if I could be sure of bread and butter."

  "Oh, if you're marrying for a home let me tell you you won't get it.Hugh'll never be able to offer you one, and his father wouldn't let himif he was."

  I decided to be bold.

  "But you heard what I said the other day, madam. I expect his father tocome round."

  She uttered the queer cackle that was like a hen when it crows.

  "Oh, you do, do you? You don't know Howard Brokenshire. You could breakhim more easily than you could bend him--and you can't break him. GoodLord, girl, I've tried!"

  "But I haven't," I returned, quietly. "Now I'm going to."

  "How? What with? You can't try if you've nothing to try on."

  "I have."

  "For Heaven's sake--what?"

  I was going to say, "Right"; but I knew it would sound sententious. Ihad been sententious enough in talking about my country. Now I onlysmiled.

  "You must let me keep that as a secret," I answered, mildly.

  She gave herself what I can only call a hitch in her chair.

  "Then may I be there to see."

  "I hope you may be, madam."

  "Oh, I'll come," she cackled. "Don't worry about that. Just let me know.You'll have to fight like the devil. I suppose you know that."

  I replied that I did.

  "And when it's all over you'll have got nothing for your pains."

  "I shall have had the fight."

  She looked hard at me before speaking.

  "Good girl!" The tone was that of a spectator who calls out, "Good hit!"or, "Good shot!" at a game. "If that's all you want--"

  "No; I want Hugh."

  "Then I hope you won't get him. He's as big a dolt as his father, andthat's saying a great deal." Terrified, I glanced over my shoulder atthe house, but she went on imperturbably: "Oh, I know he's in there; butwhat do I care? I'm not saying anything behind his back that I haven'tsaid to his face. He doesn't bear me any malice, either, I'll say thatfor him."

  "Nobody could--" I began, deferentially.

  "Nobody had better. But that's neither here nor there. All I'm tellingyou is to have nothing to do with Hugh Brokenshire. Never mind themoney; what you need is a husband with brains. Don't I know? Haven't Ibeen through it? My husband was kind and good, just like HughBrokenshire--and, O Lord! The sins of the father are visited on thechildren, too. Look at my daughter--pretty as a picture and not thebrains of a white mouse." She nodded at me fiercely, "You're my kind. Ican see that. Mind what I say--and be off."

  She turned abruptly to her book, hitching her chair a little away fromme. Accepting my dismissal, I said in the third person, as though I wasspeaking to a royalty:

  "Madam flatters me too much; but I'm glad I intruded, for the minute,just to hear her say that."

  I had made my courtesy and reached the door leading inward when shecalled after me:

  "You're a puss. Do you know it?"

  Not feeling it necessary to respond in words, I merely smiled over myshoulder and entered the house.

  In one of the big chairs I waited a half-hour before J. Howard came outof the library with his grandchild. He had given her a doll which shehugged in her left arm, while her right hand was in his. The farewellscene was pretty, and took place in the middle of the hall.

  "Now run away," he said, genially, after much kissing and petting, "andgive my love to mamma."

  He might have been shooing the sweet thing off into the air. There wasno reference whatever to any one to take care of her. His eyes rested onme, but only as they rested on the wall behind me. I must say it waswell done--if one has to do that sort of thing at all. Feeling myself,as his regard swept me, no more than a part of the carvedecclesiastical chair to which I stood clinging, I wondered how I wasever to bring this man to seeing me.

  I debated the question inwardly while I chatted with Gladys on the wayhomeward. I was obliged, in fact, to brace myself, to reason it outagain that right was self-propagating and wrong necessarily sterile.Right I figured as a way which seemed to finish in a blind alley orcul-de-sac, but which, as one neared what seemed to be its end, led offin a new direction. Nearing the end of that there would be still a newlead, and so one would go on.

  And, sure enough, the new lead came within the next half-hour, though Ididn't recognize it for what it was till afterward.