CHAPTER XVI
SOMETHING NEW
If Mrs. Harmon's marriage was her most brilliant success, it was alsoher greatest disappointment--as it was her husband's. At times when shethought of her position, she was satisfied; when she realised itsrestraints she rebelled. For she was robust, full-blooded, stirring, butthe Judge was "set in his ways." He was mental, she was physical; as aresult she completely misprized him.
He had brought her into a circle where she did not belong; it was as ifa gardener had set among roses some hardy, showy plant, a flauntingweed. Pleased as Mrs. Harmon was, her position irked her to maintain;respectability was often very wearisome, very flat. There was littlespice and go to life; too much restraint was required. Not entirelyvulgar, not exactly coarse, she fretted first, then yearned for otherthings. Barbaric is the word that fits her best; she was like theeducated Indian who longs for his free dress and freer ways.
Liberty was out of the question, since she would never give up thebrilliance of her position. Personal freedom she had; for the Judge,when he found that she could not be the companion that he hoped, gaveher all the money that he could, and let her (within bounds which sheunderstood very well and overstepped only in secret) do as she pleased.But she had in her the craving for physical stimuli; earth was hermother. A five-mile walk daily might have kept her mind clear, yet shewould have had to walk alone, and that was unbearable. Loving people,she lacked companionship, for with women below her station she would notchum, while with those in it she could not. We have seen how Judithfailed her; there remained only the men. Handsome and shrewd, Mrs.Harmon had gained her position without yielding to their snares; but nowthat the dangers which beset her single life were past, she began tolook back at them inquiringly. Her beauty was full-blown; soon it wouldbegin to fade, and her nature cried out against losing youth and all itspleasures.
Her feelings were from instinct, not calculation; her actions wereimpulsive. When she first met Ellis, quite unconsciously her thoughtshad dwelt on him. He was unresponsive; the two dropped into a habit ofsemi-intimacy, but having thus begun to let her fancy roam, Mrs. Harmonyearned for an Adonis until her dreams centered with some constancy upona vision which answered to the name of Jim.
Circumstances are everything; there is nothing human which does notdepend upon them absolutely, and Mrs. Harmon might have "sighed andpined and ogled" forever, had not Wayne been thrown in her path at atime when his mind was ready to welcome diversion.
It happened that he had planned to go to the theater with Beth. Theywanted to go alone, therefore they must go in the afternoon. He chose aWednesday, though only Saturday afternoons belonged to him. The play wasadvertised in a manner to excite Jim's interest, and he assured Beth itwould be "bully." Coming up from Chebasset at eleven o'clock, he dressedhimself in his best and lunched at the Blanchard's. Then as the hourapproached he started with Beth for the temple of amusement.
She pressed his arm as they stood for a minute in the vestibule."Naughty boy!" she said, beaming on him. "Naughty to spend so much moneyon me!"
"We mustn't dry up, Beth," he answered. "Life's too serious to have nofun in it."
"But to take an afternoon from work!" she said, so prettily that onlyconscience would have blinded him to the intended thanks. Jim's sense ofguilt, however, made him start.
"Confound it, Beth," he cried, stopping short and looking at her, "don'tyou trust me to take an afternoon off without stealing it?"
"Oh, oh!" she exclaimed. "Jim, I didn't mean that!" She tried to soothehis irritation away, but it was a bad beginning to their pleasure, andthey could not talk freely on the way to the theater. When they enteredthe lobby she felt that he was still touchy, therefore she said nothingof the flaming posters which she saw now for the first time. Women intights, drunken men--but Jim had said the play would be fine; these wereonly to catch the passer's eye.
Jim unbent again when they were once seated: the curtain, the bustle,the anticipation pleased him. "It's going to be great!" he said. "It'sfun to be together, isn't it, Beth?" He was as loving as before, and herlittle heart was happy.
But when the curtain went up, and the play commenced, poor Beth began tosicken. Women with tights appeared, and said unpleasant things; thedrunken man came on, and reeled about horribly. Besides theseattractions there were two people who gave a travesty of lovers, atwhich Jim nudged her; there was a woman who drank beer, and a waiter whospilled it down her neck. At this last whimsical situation the theaterrocked with laughter, so that Beth became aware that there were peoplewho liked that sort of thing; next she saw that Jim at her side was weakwith merriment at the exquisite foolery. The curtain went down to a songwhich the audience regarded as deliciously droll, but at which Beth rosefrom her seat, her cheeks flaming.
"What is it?" asked Jim, astonished.
"I must go home," she answered. "Come."
While the curtain was going up again that the singer might becomplimented, Beth and Jim made their way out of the theater. He castglances behind at the prima donna; Beth looked neither right nor left.But when they were free of the place, he came to her side with anxietyin his face.
"Are you ill?" he asked.
"No," she said.
"Then what is it?"
"That play, Jim."
"What?" he cried, thunderstruck.
"It was dreadful," she said, "I couldn't bear it."
He could say nothing at first, but at length he tried to speak. "Thenthe money I've spent--and my time?"
"Don't, Jim!" she pleaded. "Not here in the street."
"Very well," he answered stiffly, and was silent until he reached herhouse. But when she started up the steps he stood still and raised hishat.
"Jim!" she exclaimed, halting. "Aren't you coming in?"
He backed away and would not look at her. "Later," he said.
"Jim!" she cried appealingly.
He turned and went away without another word, doing what he knew heshould repent, for she was very sweet, very piteous. She would have runafter him to draw him back but--some one was coming. She went into thehouse and sat in tears, waiting for him to return, but he did not come.
Now the person who was coming was Mrs. Harmon, and she saw it all. Sheperceived the scowl on Jim's face; she almost heard Beth's pleading. Onimpulse she turned back as if she had forgotten something, and allowedJim to overtake her.
"Why, Mr. Wayne!" she said, and Jim could not pass without speaking.
"Good-afternoon," he said.
"A very beautiful afternoon," she responded, so that however reluctant,he had to delay. And now is seen the beginning of the afternoon'sdevelopment, for when she next spoke she had no thought beyond what wasexpressed by her words. "An afternoon for a walk, Mr. Wayne." She hadthe very faintest hope that he might offer to walk with her.
"An afternoon for the theater," answered Jim bitterly, as he rememberedthe delights he had lost. Mrs. Harmon's disappointment was far greaterthan her expectations.
"Are you going?" she asked him. "What, you have been, Mr. Wayne? But howare you out so early?"
"Some people," answered Jim, "don't care for the theater."
Mrs. Harmon, recalling what she had just seen, did some swift guessing."My husband, for instance," she said lightly.
"And Miss Blanchard," added Jim gloomily.
She thought she guessed why Jim would not walk with her. "You are goingback to see the rest of the performance alone?"
But the idea came to him as new. He took from his pocket two slips ofblue cardboard and regarded them resentfully. "I could go back," hesaid. "The man gave me these at the door. I've half a mind to."
_Two_ slips of cardboard! A thought came to her, of such weight that sheneeded time to consider it; therefore she changed the subject. "How doyou like your new business?" she asked. "It must be very interesting."
Thus she opened new fields of discontent. "Interesting enough," answeredJim. "But a fellow that has had freedom finds it very confining."
"I can im
agine it," she murmured. "And it is a different line of work."
"Quite different," agreed Jim. "Compared with brokering, it's dull, Mrs.Harmon. I miss the excitement; it's awful humdrum at the mill. There'ssuch lots of stupid detail."
"Then Chebasset is so far from the city," she supplemented.
"It is difficult to get any time here," he said, "unless you take anearly train, you know." Recollection came to him again, and he added:"And when a fellow makes a special effort to give another personpleasure, and she--well, never mind!" Jim sighed heavily.
Mrs. Harmon made a sympathetic pause. Motives were balanced in Jim'sbrain just then, resentment and desire for pleasure driving him awayfrom Beth, affection and remorse drawing him back. Had Mrs. Harmon beenthe deepest of schemers, she could not have thrown her weight morecleverly against Beth's. Seeing that they were approaching a corner,which might separate her from Jim, she thought only to continue theconversation; but behold, she augmented the current of his discontent."How do you enjoy working under Mr. Mather?" she asked.
The gloom deepened on Jim's face. "Mather's kind of--oh, well, heexpects every one to see things the way he does."
"I can imagine he's strict," she said.
"He's arbitrary!" answered Jim emphatically.
"It's too bad!" she responded with sympathy. But they were at thecorner, and she stopped. One way led down town, one to quieterneighbourhoods--and this in morals as well as in geography. She meantnot to separate from Jim, and yet how to keep him, or go with him? Mereinstinct guided her again, and this time she gave herself to it andfollowed without further thought.
"Well?" she asked, as they stood still.
"Well?" echoed Jim, quite blank, yet seeing she expected him to saysomething.
"Shall I go one way, or the other?" she demanded.
"One way, or the other?" he repeated stupidly.
"I meant to make calls," she said, accenting the preterit, "but if youshould ask me" (accenting the auxiliary) "to go with you to see the restof that play----" She made no finish, but cocked her head and lookedpast him, sidewise.
"Gad!" cried Jim, staring.
"Ah, well!" she sighed, turning away.
"Come on!" he exclaimed. "Come along, Mrs. Harmon. Jove, it will begreat fun!"
"Why, I didn't really mean it," she replied, but smiling gaily.
She was everything that Beth was not: pronounced, vivacious,multi-coloured. She was handsome, red-cheeked, bright of eye, and if shewas a little hard of glance, Jim did not perceive it. She pleased him;he urged her again.
"Well, I can do some shopping," she said with a teasing accent ofreflection, and went down town by his side. The theater was not far;when they reached it, she made as if to pass on. "Good-bye," she said.
"Oh, Mrs. Harmon!" cried he.
"You really mean you want me to come in?" she asked.
"Of course!" insisted Jim, and lied manfully. "I wanted it all thetime."
"I haven't seen this play," she said, reflecting. "My husband nevertakes me to the theater."
"Then let me," he urged. A strain of music was wafted out as shehesitated. "See, we're losing some."
"How funny," she said, looking at him and smiling, "to go in this way.But it's a lark, isn't it, Mr. Wayne. Come on, then!" She stepped beforehim to the door, and in a moment they were in the theater together.
There were again the dusk, the rustle, and the music. Some voice beyondthe footlights called "_Zwei bier!_" and a laugh followed from theaudience. A noiseless usher led the two to their seats, which they tookwhile watching the woman on the stage doubtfully circling away from thewaiter who had spilt beer on her before. The second act was not yetfinished; there were ten minutes more before the curtain went down,which it did just as the actress turned a somersault, quite modestly.The third act was even more capriciously humorous than the other two.
Mrs. Harmon and Jim enjoyed themselves keenly, the thrill of the unusualcompanionship adding excitement to the pleasure. At last she was withhim; for the first time he was with some one else than Beth. He stillhad enough resentment against Beth to feel that he was serving herright; he compared her with Mrs. Harmon; he wished Beth were more--well,sensible. Mrs. Harmon displayed an abundance of sense; she saw the goodpoints; jokes that Beth would have missed entirely were not lost onMrs. Harmon. When they walked to her house together she spoke mostappreciatively of the extravaganza. If Beth could but be thus!
But most of all Jim felt that he pleased a woman. Mrs. Harmon leaned tohim at times, put her face near his; he felt her breath; once in thetheater her hair touched him. She was sympathetic and confidential; theyreached the "you-and-I" stage very quickly. Thus:
"If the Judge were only a little more like you, Mr. Wayne!" This atbeginning; then, "I had thought you so stately, Mr. Wayne, but we seemto have just the same tastes." Those tastes were discussed next, puttingall the rest of the world on a lower plane, so that "how amusing othersare" was a natural conclusion, and Jim realised that he and she werelooking upon life as on a spectacle.
In this there was flattery beyond his power to resist; there was,besides, a suggestion too subtle for him to perceive at first. She madeit plain that because her husband and she were not congenial, she wentwith Jim; but for a time the corollary escaped him--that because he hadgone with her, therefore he and Beth were not at one. He saw only thathe was taking a vacant place, and that she was grateful to him.
At her door Mrs. Harmon looked at him, smiling doubtfully. "I would askyou in, only----"
Jim had grown bold. "Well, why?"
"No, no! It would never do--not after what we have already done. And youwill of course not say anything about this, Mr. Wayne?" she addedseriously.
Thus the final idea came to him that they two had been near, very near,the border-line of convention. "Not really?" he asked.
"Of course Miss Blanchard, if you wish," she answered.
"Shall I even tell her?" he said, trying to look knowing.
"You bad man!" she murmured, bending to him. "But it has been greatfun!" Then she ran up the steps. As Jim walked away he suppressed hisgratification, and endeavoured to estimate her character. She was quitedifferent from what people thought her.
That evening he dined with his mother; afterwards he went to the club.But the sense of guilt grew on him, and drove him at last to theBlanchards'. There Beth was still watching for him, so unhappy! Shesobbed in his arms, begging his pardon--yes, the poor little thingbegged his pardon, and Jim forgave her.
He did not tell her of Mrs. Harmon, nor did he stay late, for he had totravel to Chebasset. It was not of Beth that he thought most in thetrain. Beth had only called him a naughty boy; Mrs. Harmon said he was abad man. He felt as if he had been pleasantly wicked, like the fellowsin New York or Paris, going about with married women.