Carolina Lee

by Lilian Bell

  CHAPTER III.

  THE DANGER OF WISHING

  The Lees' dinner-table was round, and about it were gathered sixpeople--Sherman and his wife, Carolina, Mrs. Winchester, Noel St.Quentin, and Kate Howard, Carolina's most intimate girl friend. It wasthe first time they had all met since the return of the travellers fromIndia. Later they were going to hear Melba in "Faust," but there was nohurry. It was only nine o'clock.

  "Carolina, if you could have the dearest wish of your heart, what wouldit be?" asked Noel St. Quentin.

  "If I should tell, it might not come true," Carolina answered. "And Iwant it so much!"

  "I never saw such a girl as Carolina in all my life," complained hersister-in-law. "Her mind is always made up. She keeps her ideas asorderly as an old maid's bureau-drawer. No odds and ends anywhere. Youmay ask her any sort of a question, and she has her answer ready. Sheknows just what box in her brain it is in. Just fancy having thoughtout what your wish would be, and having it at your tongue's end to tellat a dinner-party!"

  Mrs. Lee leaned back and fanned herself with a fatigued air.

  "You almost indicate that Carolina thinks," said St. Quentin.

  "Oh, don't accuse me of such a crime in public!" cried the girl,laughing.

  "Carolina seems to me the one person on earth whose every wish had beengratified before it could be uttered," said St. Quentin, who was in someoccult way related to the Lees. "I would be interested to know justwhat her dream in life could be."

  Carolina smiled at him gently.

  "She--she's had Europe, Asia, and Africa a-all her life," cried KateHoward, who always stuttered a little in the excitement of the moment.To Carolina this slight stutter was one of Kate's greatest fascinations.You found yourself expecting and rather looking forward to it. At leastit spelled enthusiasm. "She's had masters in every knownaccomplishment. She--she can do all sorts of things. She can speak anylanguage except Chinese, I do believe. She's pretty. She's rich in herown right--no waiting for dead men's shoes or trying to get along on anallowance--a-and what under the sun can she want--e-except a husband?"

  "Perhaps, if she's good, she may even get that," said St. Quentin.

  Again Carolina smiled. But her smile faded when her eyes met those ofher sister-in-law, who viewed the girl with a thinly veiled dislike.The girl's eyes flashed. Then she spoke.

  "I have wanted one thing so much that I am sure sometime I must achieveit," she said, slowly. "I want to be so poor that I shall be forced toearn my own living with no help from anybody!"

  She was not looking at her brother as she spoke, or she would have seenhim start so violently that he upset his champagne-glass, and that hisface had turned white.

  "What did I tell you?" murmured St. Quentin.

  "Carol likes to be sensational," said Mrs. Lee. "No one would dislike tobe poor more than she, and no one would find herself more utterlyhelpless and dependent, if such a calamity were to overtake her."

  "I wouldn't call it a calamity," said Carolina, quietly.

  "Yes, you would!" cried Kate.

  "I am inclined to agree with Carol," said St. Quentin, deliberately,"and to disagree, if I may, with Cousin Adelaide. In my opinion, Carolcould go out to-morrow with only enough money to pay her first week'sboard, and support herself."

  "I hope she may never be obliged to try," said her brother, harshly."Addie, if you intend to hear any of the music, we'd better be starting.It is a quarter to ten now."

  Addie raised her shoulders in a slight shrug.

  "When Carolina holds the centre of the stage, it is impossible to carryout one's own ideas of promptness," she said.

  "Nasty old cat," whispered Kate to St. Quentin, as he stooped for herglove and handkerchief. "Thanks so much. I don't know how I managed it,but I held on to my fan."

  Later in the Lees' box with Melba singing Marguerite, St. Quentin turnedto Carolina again. She had swept the house with her glass as soon as theparty were seated, and had noted but one old acquaintance whose faceseemed to invite study. The girl's name was Rosemary Goddard, and amongthe discontented faces which thronged the boxes in the horseshoe, hersalone was peaceful. Nay, more. It was radiant. Carolina remembered herface--a cold, aristocratic mouth, disdainful eyes, haughty brows, and anose which seemed to spurn friend and foe alike. What atransfiguration! How beautiful she had grown!

  She was so occupied with the enigma Rosemary presented that St. Quentinwas obliged to repeat his question.

  "How would you go to work, Carol?"

  The girl turned with a sigh. Sometimes it seemed to her that she neverwould become accustomed to talking at the opera. She almost envied atall young man, who stood in the first balcony. His evening clotheswere of a hopeless cut. His manner was that of a stranger in New York,but in his face, one of the finest she had ever seen, was such a passionfor music that she watched him, even while she answered St. Quentin witha grace which hid her unwillingness to talk.

  "For what I really would love to do," she said over her white shoulder,with her eyes on the strange young man, "you started me off a little toopoor. I might have to borrow a hundred or two from you to begin with!I want to pioneer! I don't mean that I want to go into a wilderness andbe a squatter. I want to reclaim some abandoned farm--make over someugly house--make arid acres yield me money in my purse--money not givento me, left to me, nor found by me, but money that I, myself--CarolinaLee--have earned! Does that amuse you?"

  "It interests me," said St. Quentin, quietly.

  To be taken seriously was more than the girl expected. She was onlytelling him a half-truth, because she did not consider him privileged tohear the whole. She continued to test him.

  "I never see an ugly house that I do not long to go at it, hammer andtongs, and make it pretty. Not expensive, you understand,--I've lived inParis too long not to know how to get effects cheaply,--but attractive.Oh, Noel! The ugliness of rural America, when Nature has done so much!"

  "You ought to have been a man," said St. Quentin.

  "I would have been more of a success," said the girl, quickly. "Ibelieve I could have started poor and become well-to-do."

  "How you do emphasize beginning poor and how you never mention becomingrich! Don't millions appeal to you?"

  "Not at all! nor do these common men, even though they did begin poor,who have acquired millions by speculation. They but make themselves andtheir sycophants ridiculous. No, I mean honest commerce--buying andselling real commodities at a fair profit--establishing newindustries--developing situations--taking advantage of Nature'sbeginnings. Such thoughts as these are the only things in life whichreally thrill me."

  "I understand you," said St. Quentin, "but I fear your wish will nevercome true. Years ago I held similar desires. All my plans fellthrough. I had too much money. And so have you. You'll have to go onbeing a millionairess, whether you will or no, and you'll marry anothermillionaire and eat and drink more than is good for you and lose yourcomplexion and your waist line and end your life a dowager in blackvelvet and diamonds."

  A messenger boy entered and handed a telegram to Sherman Lee, just asMelba rose from her straw pallet and led the glorious finale to "Faust."

  Her brother leaned over and touched her arm.

  "You may get your infernal wish sooner than you expected," he said, witha wry smile twisting his pale face.

  Carolina turned to St. Quentin with indifference.

  "Possibly I may yet keep my waist line," she said, as he laid her cloakon her shoulders.

  On the way out she came face to face with the tall young man who hadstood through the whole opera, in the balcony.

  He gave back all her interest in him in the one look he cast upon herloveliness. A sudden light of incredulous surprise dilated her eyes anda swift blush stained her cheeks. She recognized, in some intangible,unknown way, that he possessed kindred traits with her father and withherself. He had the same look in his eyes--or rather back
of them, asif his eyes were only a hint of what lay hid in his soul. He was oftheir temperament. He dreamed the same dreams. He was akin to her.

  "I could have told him the truth," she whispered. "He would haveunderstood that I meant Guildford all the time, and that the reason Iwant to be poor is so that I can show that I am willing to work, tocarry out my father's dearest wish. Just to spend money on it is toosordid and too easy. I want it to be made hard for me, just to showthem what I will do! He would have understood!"

  But with one's best friends it is as well to be on the defensive, andnot let them know our true aims, lest they take advantage of theirfriendship and treat our heart's dearest secrets with mockery.