CHAPTER XII
A WEEK after this interview Tyrrel and Ethel were in New York. Theylanded early in the morning, but the Judge and Ruth were on the pier tomeet them; and they breakfasted together at the fashionable hotel,where an elegant suite had been reserved for the residence of theTyrrel-Rawdons until they had perfected their plans for the future.Tyrrel was boyishly excited, but Ethel's interest could not leaveher father and his new wife. These two had lived in the same home forfifteen years, and then they had married each other, and both of themlooked fifteen years younger. The Judge was actually merry, and Ruth, inspite of her supposed "docility," had quite reversed the situation. Itwas the Judge who was now docile, and even admiringly obedient to allRuth's wifely advices and admonitions.
The breakfast was a talkative, tardy one, but at length the Judge wentto his office and Tyrrel had to go to the Custom House. Ethel was eagerto see her grandmother, and she was sure the dear old lady was anxiouslywaiting her arrival. And Ruth was just as anxious for Ethel to visit herrenovated home. She had the young wife's delight in its beauty, and shewanted Ethel to admire it with her.
"We will dine with you to-morrow, Ruth," said Ethel, "and I will comevery early and see all the improvements. I feel sure the house islovely, and I am glad father made you such a pretty nest. Nothing is toopretty for you, Ruth." And there was no insincerity in this compliment.These two women knew and loved and trusted each other without a shadowof doubt or variableness.
So Ruth went to her home, and Ethel hastened to Gramercy Park. Madam waseagerly watching for her arrival.
"I have been impatient for a whole hour, all in a quiver, dearie," shecried. "It is nearly noon."
"I have been impatient also, Granny, but father and Ruth met us at thepier and stayed to breakfast with us, and you know how men talk andtalk."
"Ruth and father down at the pier! How you dream!"
"They were really there. And they do seem so happy, grandmother. Theyare so much in love with each other."
"I dare say. There are no fools like old fools. So you have sold theCourt to Nicholas Rawdon, and a cotton-spinner is Lord of the Manor.Well, well, how are the mighty fallen!"
"I made twenty thousand pounds by the sale. Nicholas Rawdon isa gentleman, and John Thomas is the most popular man in all theneighborhood. And, Granny, he has two sons--twins--the handsomest littlechaps you ever saw. No fear of a Rawdon to heir the Manor now."
"Fortune is a baggage. When she is ill to a man she knows no reason. Shesent John Thomas to Parliament, and kept Fred out at a loss, too. Shetook the Court from Fred and gave it to John Thomas, and she giveshim two sons about the same time she gives Fred one, and that one shekidnaps out of his sight and knowledge. Poor Fred!"
"Well, grandmother, it is 'poor Fred's' own doing, and, I assure you,Fred would have been most unwelcome at the Court. And the squires andgentry round did not like a woman in the place; they were at a loss whatto do with me. I was no good for dinners and politics and hunting.I embarrassed them." "Of course you would. They would have to talkdecently and behave politely, and they would not be able to tell theirchoicest stories. Your presence would be a bore; but could not Tyrreltake your place?"
"Granny, Tyrrel was really unhappy in that kind of life. And he was aforeigner, so was I. You know what Yorkshire people think of foreigners.They were very courteous, but they were glad to have the YorkshireRawdons in our place. And Tyrrel did not like working with the earth; heloves machinery and electricity."
"To be sure. When a man has got used to delving for gold or silver,cutting grass and wheat does seem a slow kind of business."
"And he disliked the shut-up feeling the park gave him. He said we werein the midst of solitude three miles thick. It made him depressed andlonely."
"That is nonsense. I am sure on the Western plains he had solitude sixtymiles thick--often."
"Very likely, but then he had an horizon, even if it were sixty milesaway. And no matter how far he rode, there was always that line whereearth seemed to rise to heaven. But the park was surrounded by a brickwall fourteen feet high. It had no horizon. You felt as if you were ina large, green box--at least Tyrrel did. The wall was covered with rosesand ivy, but still it was a boundary you could not pass, and could notsee over. Don't you understand, Granny, how Tyrrel would feel this?"
"I can't say I do. Why didn't he come with you?"
"He had to go to the Customs about our trunks, and there were otherthings. He will see you to-morrow. Then we are going to dine withfather, and if you will join us, we will call at six for you. Do,Granny."
"Very well, I shall be ready." But after a moment's thought shecontinued, "No, I will not go. I am only a mortal woman, and the companyof angels bores me yet."
"Now, Granny, dear."
"I mean what I say. Your father has married such a piece of perfectionthat I feel my shortcomings in her presence more than I can bear. ButI'll tell you what, dearie, Tyrrel may come for me Saturday night atsix, and I will have my dinner with you. I want to see the dining-roomof a swell hotel in full dress; and I will wear my violet satin andwhite Spanish lace, and look as smart as can be, dear. And Tyrrel maybuy me a bunch of white violets. I am none too old to wear them. Whoknows but I may go to the theater also?"
"Oh, Granny, you are just the dearest young lady I know! Tyrrel will beas proud as a peacock."
"Well, I am not as young as I might be, but I am a deal younger than Ilook. Listen, dearie, I have never FELT old yet! Isn't that a thing tobe grateful for? I don't read much poetry, except it be in the ChurchHymnal, but I cut a verse out of a magazine a year ago which just suitsmy idea of life, and, what is still more wonderful, I took the troubleto learn it. Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote it, and I'll warrant him fora good, cheerful, trust-in-God man, or he'd never have thought of suchsensible words."
"I am listening, Granny, for the verse."
"Yes, and learn it yourself. It will come in handy some day, when Tyrreland you are getting white-haired and handsome, as everyone ought to getwhen they have passed their half-century and are facing the light of theheavenly world:
"At sixty-two life has begun; At seventy-three begins once more; Fly swifter as thou near'st the sun, And brighter shine at eighty-four. At ninety-five, Should thou arrive, Still wait on God, and work and thrive."
Such words as those, Ethel, keep a woman young, and make her right gladthat she was born and thankful that she lives."
"Thank you for them, dear Granny. Now I must run away as fast as I can.Tyrrel will be wondering what has happened to me."
In this conjecture she was right. Tyrrel was in evening dress, andwalking restlessly about their private parlor. "Ethel," he said,plaintively, "I have been so uneasy about you."
"I am all right, dearest. I was with grandmother. I shall be ready inhalf an hour."
Even if she had been longer, she would have earned the delay, for shereturned to him in pink silk and old Venice point de rose, with a prettyermine tippet across her shoulders. It was a joy to see her, a delightto hear her speak, and she walked as if she heard music. The dining-roomwas crowded when they entered, but they made a sensation. Many roseand came to welcome them home. Others smiled across the busy space andlifted their wineglass in recognition. The room was electric, sensitiveand excited. It was flooded with a soft light; it was full of theperfume of flowers. The brilliant coloring of silks and satins, and thesoft miracle of white lace blended with the artistically painted wallsand roof. The aroma of delicate food, the tinkle of crystal, the lowmurmur of happy voices, the thrill of sudden laughter, and the deliciousaccompaniment of soft, sensuous music completed the charm of the room.To eat in such surroundings was as far beyond the famous flower-crownedfeasts of Rome and Greece as the east is from the west. It wasimpossible to resist its influence. From the point of the senses, thesoul was drinking life out of a cup of overflowing delight. And it wasonly natural that in their hearts both Tyrrel and Ethel should make aswift, though silent, compariso
n between this feast of sensation andflow of human attraction and the still, sweet order of the Rawdondining-room, with its noiseless service, and its latticed win-dows opento all the wandering scents and songs of the garden.
Perhaps the latter would have the sweetest and dearest and most abidingplace in their hearts; but just in the present they were enthralled andexcited by the beauty and good comradeship of the social New York dinnerfunction. Their eyes were shining, their hearts thrilling, they went totheir own apartments hand in hand, buoyant, vivacious, feeling that lifewas good and love unchangeable. And the windows being open, they walkedto one and stood looking out upon the avenue. All signs of commercehad gone from the beautiful street, but it was busy and noisy with thetraffic of pleasure, and the hum of multitudes, the rattle of carriages,the rush of autos, the light, hurrying footsteps of pleasure-seekersinsistently demanded their sympathy.
"We cannot go out to-night," said Ethel. "We are both more weary than weknow."
"No, we cannot go to-night; but, oh, Ethel, we are in New York again!Is not that joy enough? I am so happy! I am so happy. We are in New Yorkagain! There is no city like it in all the world. Men live here, theywork here, they enjoy here. How happy, how busy we are going to be,Ethel!"
During these joyful, hopeful expectations he was walking up and down theroom, his eyes dilating with rapture, and Ethel closed the window andjoined him. They magnified their joy, they wondered at it, they weresure no one before them had ever loved as they loved. "And we are goingto live here, Ethel; going to have our home here! Upon my honor, Icannot speak the joy I feel, but"--and he went impetuously to the pianoand opened it--"but I can perhaps sing it--
"'There is not a spot in this wide-peopled earth So dear to the heart as the Land of our Birth; 'Tis the home of our childhood, the beautiful spot Which Memory retains when all else is forgot. May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, And its valleys and hills by our children be trod!
"'May Columbia long lift her white crest o'er the wave, The birthplace of science and the home of the brave. In her cities may peace and prosperity dwell, And her daughters in virtue and beauty excel. May the blessing of God ever hallow the sod, And its valleys and hills by our children be trod.'"
With the patriotic music warbling in his throat he turned to Ethel,and looked at her as a lover can, and she answered the look; and thusleaning toward each other in visible beauty and affection their new lifebegan. Between smiles and kisses they sat speaking, not of the past withall its love and loveliness, but of the high things calling to themfrom the future, the work and duties of life set to great ends bothfor public and private good. And as they thus communed Tyrrel took hiswife's hand and slowly turned on her finger the plain gold wedding ringbehind its barrier of guarding gems.
"Ethel," he said tenderly, "what enchantments are in this ring of gold!What romances I used to weave around it, and, dearest, it has turnedevery Romance into Reality."
"And, Tyrrel, it will also turn all our Realities into Romances. Nothingin our life will ever become common. Love will glorify everything."
"And we shall always love as we love now?"
"We shall love far better, far stronger, far more tenderly."
"Even to the end of our lives, Ethel?"
"Yes, to the very end."
CHAPTER XIII
A PAUSE of blissful silence followed this assurance. It was broken bya little exclamation from Ethel. "Oh, dear," she said, "how selfishlythoughtless my happiness makes me! I have forgotten to tell you,until this moment, that I have a letter from Dora. It was sent tograndmother's care, and I got it this afternoon; also one from LucyRawdon. The two together bring Dora's affairs, I should say, to apleasanter termination than we could have hoped for."
"Where is the Enchantress?"
"In Paris at present."
"I expected that answer."
"But listen, she is living the quietest of lives; the most devoteddaughter cannot excel her."
"Is she her own authority for that astonishing statement? Do you believeit?"
"Yes, under the circumstances. Mr. Denning went to Paris for a criticaland painful operation, and Dora is giving all her love and timetoward making his convalescence as pleasant as it can be. In fact, herdescription of their life in the pretty chateau they have rented outsideof Paris is quite idyllic. When her father is able to travel they aregoing to Algiers for the winter, and will return to New York about nextMay. Dora says she never intends to leave America again."
"Where is her husband? Keeping watch on the French chateau?"
"That is over. Mr. Denning persuaded Dora to write a statement of allthe facts concerning the birth of the child. She told her husband thename under which they traveled, the names of the ship, the captain, andthe ship's doctor, and Mrs. Denning authenticated the statement; but,oh, what a mean, suspicious creature Mostyn is!"
"What makes you reiterate that description of him?"
"He was quite unable to see any good or kind intent in this paper. Heproved its correctness, and then wrote Mr. Denning a very contemptibleletter."
"Which was characteristic enough. What did he say?"
"That the amende honorable was too late; that he supposed Dora wished tohave the divorce proceedings stopped and be reinstated as his wife,but he desired the whole Denning family to understand that was nowimpossible; he was 'fervently, feverishly awaiting his freedom, whichhe expected at any hour.' He said it was 'sickening to remember theweariness of body and soul Dora had given him about a non-existingchild, and though this could never be atoned for, he did think he oughtto be refunded the money Dora's contemptible revenge had cost him."'
"How could he? How could he?"
"Of course Mr. Denning sent him a check, a pretty large one, I dare say.And I suppose he has his freedom by this time, unless he has marriedagain."
"He will never marry again."
"Indeed, that is the strange part of the story. It was because hewanted to marry again that he was 'fervently, feverishly awaiting hisfreedom.'"
"I can hardly believe it, Ethel. What does Dora say?"
"I have the news from Lucy. She says when Mostyn was ignored by everyonein the neighborhood, one woman stood up for him almost passionately. Doyou remember Miss Sadler?"
"That remarkable governess of the Surreys? Why, Ethel, she is the veryugliest woman I ever saw."
"She is so ugly that she is fascinating. If you see her one minute youcan never forget her, and she is brains to her finger tips. She ruledeveryone at Surrey House. She was Lord Surrey's secretary and LadySurrey's adviser. She educated the children, and they adored her; sheruled the servants, and they obeyed her with fear and trembling. Nothingwas done in Surrey House without her approval. And if her face was nothandsome, she had a noble presence and a manner that was irresistible."
"And she took Mostyn's part?"
"With enthusiasm. She abused Dora individually, and American womengenerally. She pitied Mr. Mostyn, and made others do so; and when sheperceived there would be but a shabby and tardy restoration for himsocially, she advised him to shake off the dust of his feet fromMonk-Rawdon, and begin life in some more civilized place. And in orderthat he might do so, she induced Lord Surrey to get him a very excellentcivil appointment in Calcutta."
"Then he is going to India?"
"He is probably now on the way there. He sold the Mostyn estate----"
"I can hardly believe it."
"He sold it to John Thomas Rawdon. John Thomas told me it belonged toRawdon until the middle of the seventeenth century, and he meant to haveit back. He has got it."
"Miss Sadler must be a witch."
"She is a sensible, practical woman, who knows how to manage men.She has soothed Mostyn's wounded pride with appreciative flattery andstimulated his ambition. She has promised him great things in India, andshe will see that he gets them."
"He must be completely under her control."
"She will never let him call his soul his own, but she will managehis aff
airs to perfection. And Dora is forever rid of that wretchedinfluence. The man can never again come between her and her love; neveragain come between her and happiness. There will be the circumference ofthe world as a barrier."
"There will be Jane Sadler as a barrier. She will be sufficient. TheWoman Between will annihilate The Man Between. Dora is now safe. Whatwill she do with herself?"
"She will come back to New York and be a social power. She is young,beautiful, rich, and her father has tremendous financial influence.Social affairs are ruled by finance. I should not wonder to see her inSt. Jude's, a devotee and eminent for good works."
"And if Basil Stanhope should return?"
"Poor Basil--he is dead."
"How do you know that?"
"What DO you mean, Tyrrel?"
"Are you sure Basil is dead? What proof have you?"
"You must be dreaming! Of course he is dead! His friend came and told meso--told me everything."
"Is that all?"
"There were notices in the papers."
"Is that all?"
"Mr. Denning must have known it when he stopped divorce proceedings."
"Doubtless he believed it; he wished to do so."
"Tyrrel, tell me what you mean."
"I always wondered about his death rather than believed in it. Basil hada consuming sense of honor and affection for the Church and its sacredoffices. He would have died willingly rather than drag them intothe mire of a divorce court. When the fear became certainty hedisappeared--really died to all his previous life."
"But I cannot conceive of Basil lying for any purpose."
"He disappeared. His family and friends took on themselves the meansthey thought most likely to make that disappearance a finality."
"Have you heard anything, seen anything?"
"One night just before I left the West a traveler asked me for a night'slodging. He had been prospecting in British America in the region ofthe Klondike, and was full of incidental conversation. Among many otherthings he told me of a wonderful sermon he had heard from a young man ina large mining camp. I did not give the story any attention at the time,but after he had gone away it came to me like a flash of light that thepreacher was Basil Stanhope."
"Oh, Tyrrel, if it was--if it was! What a beautiful dream! But it isonly a dream. If it could be true, would he forgive Dora? Would he comeback to her?"
"No!" Tyrrel's voice was positive and even stern. "No, he could nevercome back to her. She might go to him. She left him without any reason.I do not think he would care to see her again."
"I would say no more, Tyrrel. I do not think as you do. It is a dream,a fancy, just an imagination. But if it were true, Basil would wish nopilgrimage of abasement. He would say to her, 'Dear one, HUSH! Love ishere, travel-stained, sore and weary, but so happy to welcome you!' Andhe would open all his great, sweet heart to her. May I tell Dora someday what you have thought and said? It will be something good for her todream about."
"Do you think she cares? Did she ever love him?"
"He was her first love. She loved him once with all her heart. If itwould be right--safe, I mean, to tell Dora----"
"On this subject there is so much NOT to say. I would never speak ofit."
"It may be a truth"
"Then it is among those truths that should be held back, and it islikely only a trick of my imagination, a supposition, a fancy."
"A miracle! And of two miracles I prefer the least, and that is thatBasil is dead. Your young preacher is a dream; and, oh, Tyrrel, I amso tired! It has been such a long, long, happy day! I want to sleep. Myeyes are shutting as I talk to you. Such a long, long, happy day!"
"And so many long, happy days to come, dearest."
"So many," she answered, as she took Tyrrel's hand, and lifted her furand fan and gloves. "What were those lines we read together the nightbefore we were married? I forget, I am so tired. I know that life shouldhave many a hope and aim, duties enough, and little cares, and now bequiet, and now astir, till God's hand beckoned us unawares----"
The rest was inaudible. But between that long, happy day and the presenttime there has been an arc of life large enough to place the union ofTyrrel and Ethel Rawdon among those blessed bridals that are
"The best of life's romances."
The Man Between: An International Romance Page 12
