by Elinor Glyn
III
Josiah Brown cut the top off his _oeuf a la coque_ with a knife at his_premier dejeuner_ next day. The knife grated on the shell in adetermined way, and Theodora felt her heart sink at the prospect ofbroaching the subject of the breakfast at the Cafe Henry.
"I am so glad the rain has stopped," she said, nervously. "It wasraining when I woke this morning."
"Indeed," replied Josiah. "And what kind of an evening did you pass withthat father of yours?"
"A very pleasant one," said Theodora, crumbling her roll. "Papa met someold friends, and we all dined together at the Ritz. I wish you had beenable to come, it might have done you good, it was so gay!"
"I am not fit for gayety," said her husband, peevishly, scooping outspoonfuls of yolk. "And who were the party, pray?"
Theodora obediently enumerated them all, and the high-sounding title ofthe Russian Prince, to say nothing of the English lord and lady, had amollifying effect on Josiah Brown. He even remembered the name ofBracondale--had he not been a grocer's assistant in the small town ofBracondale for a whole year in his apprenticeship days?
"Papa wants us to breakfast to-day with him at Henry's for you to meetsome of them," Theodora said, with more confidence.
Josiah had taken a second egg and his frown was gone.
"We'll see about it, we'll see about it," he grunted; but his wife feltmore hopeful, and was even unusually solicitous of his wants in the wayof coffee and marmalade and cream. Josiah was shrewd if he did happen tobe deeply self-absorbed in his health, and he noticed that Theodora'seyes were brighter and her step more elastic than usual.
He knew he had bought "one of them there aristocrats," as his old aunt,who had kept a public-house at New Norton, would have said. Bought herwith solid gold--he had no illusions on this subject, and he quiterealized if the solid gold had not been amassed out of England, so thatto her family he could be represented as "something from thecolonies--rather rough, but such a good fellow"--even CaptainFitzgerald's impecuniosity and rapacity would not have risen to hisbait.
He was also grateful to Theodora--she had been so meek always, and sucha kind and unselfish nurse. With his impaired constitution and delicatechest he had given up all hopes of looking on her as a wife again, justyet; but, as a nurse and an ornament--a peg to hang the evidences of hiswealth upon--she was little short of perfection. He could have beenfrantically in love with her if she had only been the girl from thestation bar in Melbourne. Josiah Brown was not a bad fellow.
By the time Mr. Toplington advanced in his dignified way with theaccurately measured tonic on a silver tray and the single acid drop toremove the taste, Josiah Brown had decided to go and partake food withhis father-in-law at Henry's. If he had been good enough to entertainthe Governor of Australia, he was quite good enough for Russian princesor English lords, he told himself. Thus it was that Captain Fitzgerald,who came in person in a few minutes to indorse his invitation, found anunusually cordial reception awaiting him.
"I am too delighted, my dear Josiah," he said, "that you have decided tocome out of your shell. Moping would kill a cat; and I shall order youthe plainest chicken and souffle aux fraises."
"Josiah can eat almost anything, papa. I don't think you need worryabout that," said Theodora, who hoped to make her husband enjoy himself.And then Captain Fitzgerald left to meet his widow.
All the morning, while she walked up and down under the trees in theAvenue du Bois beside her husband, who leaned upon her arm, Theodora'sthoughts were miles away. She felt stimulated, excited, intenselyinterested in the hour, afraid they would be late. Twice she answered atrandom, and Josiah got quite cross.
"I asked you which you considered would do me most good when we returnto England, to continue seeing Sir Baldwin once a week or to have Dr.Wilton permanently in the house with us, and you answer that you quiteagree with me! Agree with what? Agree with which? You are talkingnonsense, girl!"
Theodora apologized gently, and her white velvet cheeks became tingedwith wild roses. It seemed as if the victoria, with its high-steppers,would never come and pick them up; and it must be at least quarter of anhour's drive to Henry's. She did not understand where it was exactly,but papa had said the coachman would know.
If some one had told her, as Clementine certainly would have done hadshe been there, that she was simply thus interested and excited becauseshe wished to see again Lord Bracondale, she would have been horrified.She never had analyzed sensations herself, and the day had not yetarrived when she would begin to do so.
At last they were rolling down the Champs-Elysees. The mass of chestnutblooms in full glory, the tender green still fresh and springlike, thesky as blue as blue, and every creature in the street with an air ofgayety--that Paris alone seems to inspire in the human race. It enteredinto her blood, this rush of spring and hope and laughter and life, anda radiant creature got out of the carriage at Henry's door.
The two men were waiting for them--Lord Bracondale and the FrenchCount--her father and Mrs. McBride had not yet appeared.
Theodora introduced them to her husband, and Lord Bracondale said:
"Mrs. McBride is always late. I have found out which is your father'stable; don't you think we might go and sit down?"
And they did. Theodora got well into the corner of the velvet sofa, theCount on one side and Lord Bracondale on the other, with Josiah beyondthe Count.
They made conversation. The Frenchman was voluble and agreeable, and thenext ten minutes passed without incident.
Josiah, not quite at ease, perhaps, but on the whole not ill-pleasedwith his situation. The Count took all ups and downs as of the day'swork, sure of a good breakfast, sooner or later, unpaid for by himself.And Lord Bracondale's thoughts ran somewhat thus:
"She is even more beautiful in daylight than at night. She can't be morethan twenty--what a skin! like a white gardenia petal--and, good Lord,what a husband! How revolting, how infamous! I suppose that old schemer,her father, sold her to him. Her eyes remind one of forgotten fairytales of angels. Can anything be so sweet as that little nose and thosebaby-red lips. She has a soul, too, peeping out of the blue when shelooks up at one. She reminds me of Praxiteles' Psyche when she looksdown. Why did I not meet her long ago? I believe I ought not to staynow--something tells me I shall fall deeply into this. And what avoice!--as gentle and caressing as a tender dove. A man would give hissoul for such a woman. As guileless as an infant saint, too--andsensitive and human and understanding. I wish to God I had the strengthof mind to get up and go this minute--but I haven't--it is fate."
"Oh, how naughty of papa," said Theodora, "to be so late! Are you veryhungry, Josiah? Shall we begin without them?"
But at that moment, with rustling silks and delicate perfume, the widowand Captain Fitzgerald came in at the door and joined the party.
"I am just too sorry," the lady said, gayly. "It is all CaptainFitzgerald's fault--he would try to restrain me from buying what Iwanted, and so it made me obstinate and I had to stay right there andorder half the shop."
"How I understand you!" sympathized Lord Bracondale. "I know just thatfeeling of wanting forbidden fruit. It makes the zest of life."
He had foreseen the disposition of the party, and by sitting in theoutside corner seat at the end knew he would have Theodora almost _entete-a-tete_, once they were all seated along the velvet sofa beyondJosiah Brown.
"What do you do with yourself all the time here?" he asked, lowering hisvoice to that deep note which only carries to the ear it is intendedfor. "May one ever see you again except at a chance meal like this?"
"I don't know," said Theodora. "I walk up and down in the side allees ofthe Bois in the morning with my husband, and when he has had his sleep,after dejeuner, we drive nearly all the afternoon, and we have tea, atthe Pre Catalan and drive again until about seven, and then we come inand dine, and I go to bed very early. Josiah is not strong enough yetfor late hours or theatres."
"It sounds supernaturally gay for Paris!" said Lord Bracond
ale; and thenhe felt a brute when he saw the cloud in the blue eyes.
"No, it is not gay," she said, simply. "But the flowers are beautiful,and the green trees and the chestnut blossoms and the fine air here, andthere is a little stream among the trees which laughs to itself as itruns, and all these things say something to me."
He felt rebuked--rebuked and interested.
"I would like to see them all with you," he said.
That was one of his charms--directness. He did not insinuate often; hestated facts.
"You would find it all much too monotonous," she answered. "You wouldtire of them after the first time. And you could if you liked, too,because I suppose you are free, being a man, and can choose your ownlife," and she sighed unconsciously.
And there came to Hector Bracondale the picture of her life--sacrificed,no doubt, to others' needs. He seemed to see the long years tied toJosiah Brown, the cramping of her soul, the dreary desolation of it.Then a tenderness came over him, a chivalrous tenderness unfelt by himtowards women now for many a long day.
"I wonder if I can choose my life," he said, and he looked into hereyes.
"Why can you not?" She hesitated. "And may I ask you, too, what you dowith yourself here?"
He evaded the question; he suddenly realized that his days were not moreamusing than hers, although they were filled up with racing and variedemployments--while the thought of his nights sickened him.
"I think I am going to make an immense change and learn to take pleasurein the running brooks," he said. "Will you help me?"
"I know so little, and you know so much," and her sweet eyes became softand dreamy. "I could not help you in any way, I fear."
"Yes, you could--you could teach me to see all things with fresh eyes.You could open the door into a new world."
"Do you know," she said, irrelevantly, "Sarah--my eldest sister--Sarahtold me it was unwise ever to talk to strangers except in theabstract--and here are you and I conversing about our own interests andfeelings--are not we foolish!" She laughed a little nervously.
"No, we are not foolish because we are not strangers--we never were--andwe never will be."
"Are not strangers--?"
"No--do you not feel that sometimes in life one's friendships begin byantipathy--sometimes by indifference--and sometimes by that suddenmagnetism of sympathy as if in some former life we had been very nearand dear, and were only picking up the threads again, and to such twosouls there is no feeling that they are strangers."
Theodora was too entirely unsophisticated to remain unmoved by thisreasoning. She felt a little thrill--she longed to continue the subject,and yet dared not. She turned hesitatingly to the Count, and for thenext ten minutes Lord Bracondale only saw the soft outline of hercheek.
He wondered if he had been too sudden. She was quite the youngest personhe had ever met--he realized that, and perhaps he had acted with toomuch precipitation. He would change his tactics.
The Count was only too pleased to engage the attention of Theodora. Hewas voluble; she had very little to reply. Things went smoothly. Josiahwas appreciating an exceedingly good breakfast, and the playful salliesof the fair widow. All, in fact, was _couleur de rose_.
"Won't you talk to me any more?" Lord Bracondale said, after about aquarter of an hour. He felt that was ample time for her to have becomecalm, and, beautiful as the outline of her cheek was, he preferred herfull face.
"But of course," said Theodora. She had not heard more than half whatthe Count had been saying; she wished vaguely that she might continuethe subject of friendship, but she dared not.
"Do you ever go to Versailles?" he asked. This, at least, was a safesubject.
"I have been there--but not since--not this time," she answered. "Iloved it: so full of memories and sentiment, and Old-World charm."
"It would give me much pleasure to take you to see it again," he said,with grave politeness. "I must devise some plan--that is, if you wish togo."
She smiled.
"It is a favorite spot of mine, and there are some allees in the parkmore full of the story of spring than your Bois even."
"I do not see how we can go," said Theodora. "Josiah would find it toolong a day."
"I must discuss it with your father; one can generally arrange what onewishes," said Lord Bracondale.
At this moment Mrs. McBride leaned over and spoke to Theodora. She had,she said, quite converted Mr. Brown. He only wanted a little cheering upto be perfectly well, and she had got him to promise to dine thatevening at Armenonville and listen to the Tziganes. It was going to be aglorious night, but if they felt cold they could have their table insideout of the draught. What did Theodora think about it?
Theodora thought it would be a delicious plan. What else could shethink?
"I have a large party coming," Mrs. McBride said, "and among them acompatriot of mine who saw you last night and is dying to meet you."
"Really," said Theodora, unmoved.
Lord Bracondale experienced a sensation of annoyance.
"I shall not ask you, Bracondale," the widow continued, playfully. "Justto assert British superiority, you would try to monopolize Mrs. Brown,and my poor Herryman Hoggenwater would have to come in a long, longsecond!"
Josiah felt a rush of pride. This brilliant woman was making much of hismeek little wife.
Lord Bracondale smiled the most genial smile, with rage in his heart.
"I could not have accepted in any case, dear lady," he said, "as I havesome people dining with me, and, oddly enough, they rather suggestedthey wanted Armenonville too, so perhaps I shall have the pleasure oflooking at you from the distance."
The conversation then became general, and soon after this coffeearrived, and eventually the adieux were said.
Mrs. McBride insisted upon Theodora accompanying her in her smartautomobile.
"You leave your wife to me for an hour," she said, imperiously, toJosiah, "and go and see the world with Captain Fitzgerald. He knowsParis."
"My dear, you are just the sweetest thing I have come across this sideof the Atlantic," she said, when they were whizzing along in her car."But you look as if you wanted cheering too. I expect your husband'sillness has worried you a good deal."
Theodora froze a little. Then she glanced at the widow's face and itshonest kindliness melted her.
"Yes, I have been anxious about him," she said, simply, "but he isnearly well now, and we shall soon be going to England."
Mrs. McBride had not taken a companion on this drive for nothing, andshe obtained all the information she wanted during their tour in theBois. How Josiah Brown had bought a colossal place in the easterncounties, and intended to have parties and shoot there in the autumn.How Theodora hoped to see more of her sisters than she had done sinceher marriage. The question of these sisters interested Mrs. McBride agood deal.
For a man to have two unmarried daughters was rather an undertaking.
What were their ages--their habits--their ambitions? Theodora told hersimply. She guessed why she was being interrogated. She wished to assisther father, and to say the truth seemed to her the best way. Sarah waskind and humorous, while Clementine had the brains.
"And they are both dears," she said, lovingly, "and have always been sogood to me."
Mrs. McBride was a shrewd woman, full of American quickness, lightningdeduction, and a phenomenal insight into character. Theodora seemed toher to be too tender a flower for this world of east wind. She felt sureshe only thought good of every one, and how could one get on in life ifone took that view habitually! The appallingly hard knocks fate wouldgive one if one was so trusting! But as the drive went on that gentlesomething that seemed to emanate from Theodora, the something of puresweetness and light, affected her, too, as it affected other people. Shefelt she was looking into a deep pool of crystal water, so deep that shecould see no bottom or fathom the distance of it, but which reflected inbrilliant blue God's sky and the sun.
"And she is by no means stupid," the widow summed up to
herself. "Hermind is as bright as an American's! And she is just too pretty and sweetto be eaten up by these wolves of men she will meet in England, withthat unromantic, unattractive husband along. I must do what I can forher."
By the time she had dropped Theodora at her hotel the situation wasquite clear. Of course the girl had been sacrificed to Josiah Brown; shewas sound asleep in the great forces of life; she was bound to behideously unhappy, and it was all an abominable shame, and ought to havebeen prevented.
But Mrs. McBride never cried over spilled milk.
"If I decide to marry her father," she thought, as she drove off, "Ishall keep my eye on her, and meanwhile I can make her life smile alittle perhaps!"
