XXVII
SELF-SURRENDER
When Katrine returned to her apartment after her visit to Dermott, shefound Nora, with an excited countenance, waiting for her at the door.Finger on lip, she indicated a wish for Katrine to follow to herbedroom.
"Miss Katrine," she said, closing the door by backing against it,"there's one waiting for you. And you must think quick whether ye wantto see her--with all that it may mean to you--with the rehearsalto-night. Though, poor lady, God knows her troubles! It's Mrs. Ravenel,"she concluded.
"Alone?" Katrine asked.
"Yes, and with the tears streaming from her eyes and the look of deathon her face. Mr. Frank's dyin', they say. But I want you to think--tothink for yourself, Miss Katrine. Remember the night in Paris, when theworld hung on your voice! Think of the afternoon when the greatestqueen on earth kissed ye, after ye'd sung to her, with dukes and othercreatures standin' round admirin'! Think that, if your voice fails yeto-night because of excitement and worry, it may be a check on yourwhole career! Think of the beautiful clothes laid out for ye to wear,and judge if it's worth while taking chances for a man who flung ye awaylike a worn-out glove!"
"Oh, Nora!" cried Katrine, reproachfully, "how can any one think of avoice in a time like this?"
As Katrine entered, Mrs. Ravenel turned from the fire by which she wasstanding and came toward her with outstretched hands.
Her eyes were red with weeping, and there was a hurried, despairing notein her voice as she spoke. "Katrine Dulany," she said, "I've come to youfor help." Years of thought could not have given her better words, andthe strong, young hands enfolded the cold ones of the suffering mother.
"If there is anything I can do for you, I will do it, oh, so gladly!"Katrine answered.
"Frank is very"--Mrs. Ravenel hesitated, as though lacking courage tospeak her fears--"perhaps dangerously ill. For nearly two months thetrouble has been coming on--ever since he was at the Van Rensselaers'.When he came back to me in North Carolina he had changed. He seemedstruggling to throw off some heavy burden. His old gayety was gone, andhe was always going to Marlton to look for records or asking me for moreof his father's papers. At times he seemed half distracted, and wouldsit looking at me with brooding eyes with pity in them. But when he cameback from Europe, just two weeks ago to-day"--the poor lady's voice waschoked with sobs, and Katrine put a supporting arm around her withbeautiful tenderness as she waited for her to continue--"he looked soill I cried out at first sight of him. And he does not care to live! Ican't make it out. It's not the money trouble. Money could never worryFrank. He cares too little for it! Last week," she went on, her voicelosing itself in sobs, "Anne Lennox wrote me of your being at the VanRensselaers', and of its being said there that Frank had asked you tomarry him and that you had refused. Then I remembered that he told me,three years ago, of loving some one very greatly. Last night he becamedelirious, and in the fever he called your name over and over again,crying always, 'Oh, Katrine, forgive!' And that's what I've come to askyou to do--to forgive--to forgive him and me for all the wrong I taughthim, for the weak and foolish way I brought him up--to forgive and cometo him."
"There is nothing not forgiven," Katrine said. "I would give my life tosave him," and the two clung to each other, weeping, before setting out,wifehood and motherhood, to battle with death.
Well hidden by the curtains, Nora watched Katrine enter the carriageafter Mrs. Ravenel, realizing, with more anger than she had ever felt,all that the going meant. She had hoped that after a few years of thesinging Katrine's heart would turn to Dermott, and as she saw her hopesfade away she shook her head knowingly, with even a touch of vindictivesatisfaction.
"There are two kinds of men," she reflected, her eyes on the departingcarriage: "the man who wants a woman to put her head on his shoulder,and the man who wants to put his head on a woman's shoulder. And when agirl's fool enough to like the last kind best, she generally pays."
Katrine: A Novel Page 28
