CHAPTER XIV
AT THE FOOT-BALL GAME
THE foot-ball season was on. It had opened auspiciously when theuniversity had crushingly defeated the visitors, and the attendanceupon the second game showed that the public anticipated a similarvictory. Priscilla, sitting demurely beside Horace Hitchcock, wasa-tingle with excitement. Not for the world would she have allowedHorace to guess how momentous the occasion seemed.
The tiers of seats gave a dazzling effect of color. Pennants and flagsand the bright-colored hats of the girls made Priscilla think ofterraces covered with flowers. Every one was talking, almost drowningout the noisy efforts of the 'varsity band. It seemed to Priscilla anunfitting time to quote Schopenhauer, but the Schopenhauer pose wasHorace's latest, and it recognized neither time nor seasons.
Priscilla leaned impulsively across Horace to wave to Amy, whosegood-humored face had suddenly differentiated itself from the mass ofsurrounding faces. Horace interrupted in the midst of a peculiarlypessimistic utterance, looked frankly vexed, and Priscilla apologized."Excuse me, I just happened to see Amy."
"It is not a surprise to me, Priscilla, to find you uninterested. It isthe fate of some souls to be solitary. Once I had hoped--but it doesn'tmatter."
Priscilla's mood was a little perverse. "Perhaps the reason you'resolitary is that you choose such unpleasant paths. If you'd only walkwhere it was nice and sunny, you'd have plenty of company."
"Plenty of company! Heavens!" Horace shuddered. "That suggests thecrowd. It is bad enough for the body to be jostled, but at least thespirit can command unhampered space. I had dreamed once that you mightfollow me to the heights where the atmosphere is too rare for themultitude, but--Why do we cling to life, when each hour that passesshatters another illusion?"
"I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment, Horace," Priscilla bit her lip.She was young and eager. She wanted passionately to be happy. Shelonged to respond to the charm of the hour, to enjoy it ardently, andinstead she was obliged to listen to quotations from Schopenhauer, andthink of Horace's lost illusions. The thought crossed her mind thatsince she could not make Horace happy even for an afternoon, and sincehe was certainly not making her so, it promised ill for the future. Ifonly Horace could be brought to see that they had made a mistake. Alittle flutter of hope stirred in Priscilla's heart.
Horace was speaking in a tone of extreme bitterness. "Blessed is theman who expects nothing from life, for he shall not be disappointed."
"Horace," began Priscilla firmly. "Don't you think that we--I meanwouldn't it be better--"
A number of people were coming into the vacant places on her left.A young man seated himself beside Priscilla, and involuntarily sheturned. Then she gave an impulsive start and her ready color flamedup. The young man, who wore glasses, also started and after an almostimperceptible hesitation lifted his hat. Simultaneously Priscilla bowedin the most unresponsive fashion possible, and looked away.
Horace stared suspiciously at her flushed cheeks. Horace had neverheard the story of the supper at the Green Parrot, and the fragment ofroll that had sought to drown itself in the stranger's coffee-cup. IfPriscilla had ever taken him into her confidence, he might have guessedthe explanation of her present embarrassment. As it was, he leanedclose and said in her ear, "Who is that fellow?"
"Sh! I'll tell you afterward."
Poor Priscilla! The game to which she had looked forward had become animpossible nightmare. Horace's philosophical pursuits had not freed himfrom that ready jealousy which is the characteristic of small natures.He sat glowering across Priscilla's shoulder at the young man seated onher left. As it was impossible to misunderstand Horace's expression,the young man, after his first recognition of Priscilla's presence,obligingly ignored her.
The finishing of the first half was an enormous relief to Priscilla.The majority of the seats in the grand-stand were immediately vacated.The flower bed had become kaleidoscopic, with the bits of colorcontinually rearranging themselves, as laughing girls and glowingyouths moved about, excitedly discussing the points of the game theyhad witnessed. But though Priscilla was so ardent a fan, she knewlittle of the game and cared less.
The young man at her left had been one of the first to rise. As hemoved away, Priscilla turned to Horace, and without giving herself timeto be frightened by his forbidding expression, she told him the storyof her first and only visit to the Green Parrot.
After she had finished, Horace seemed to be waiting for more. "Do youmean that is all?" he demanded at length.
"All? Of course it's all."
"Then why did you blush that way?"
The red went out of Priscilla's cheeks. Even the color due to thefrostiness of the outdoor air was replaced by an angry pallor. "Do youmean," she said in a level voice, "that you don't believe me?"
"A fellow crowds in and sits down beside you, a fellow I've never seen.You recognize each other and then you turn crimson. You refuse to giveme any explanation till enough time has elapsed for fabricating astory, plausible from your point of view--"
"Horace!"
"And you then tell me a yarn that is no explanation whatever. What if apiece of roll did fly out of your hand and fall into somebody's coffeecup! What is there in that to turn you all colors of the rainbow?You're stringing me, that's all." The Horace who quoted Schopenhauer,and talked like the hero of a society novel, had magically disappeared,and in his place was a slangy young man, very much like other young menin a bad temper.
"Horace," said Priscilla, her lips trembling, "I've been afraid fora long time that we'd made a mistake. I can't seem to please you, nomatter how hard I try, and probably it won't surprise you to know thatI've been perfectly miserable for the last six months. And it seems tome the best thing we can do--"
The people were beginning to come back to their seats. A couple justin front of Horace and Priscilla turned to scream something to a rowof young people back of them. Priscilla tightened her grip on her selfcontrol and looked straight ahead. It was not the time nor place forbreaking an engagement. She must wait till she could get away from thisnoisy, laughing crowd. Oh, if only the dreadful afternoon were over.
The university triumphed again, as its friends had anticipated. Therewas the usual tumultuous cheering, the usual frantic demonstrations.Priscilla gave Horace the benefit of a frigid profile. Her senseof indignity kept her sternly silent. He had accused her of lying,and that meant all was over between them. Underneath her hurt andhumiliation was a sense of relief she refused to acknowledge even toherself. Fortunately the young man in eye-glasses did not return totake the vacant place at Priscilla's left, and the situation was notfurther complicated by his embarrassing presence.
She stood up as the crowd rose, thankful for the prospect of escape.Horace put his hand lightly on her arm. "Wouldn't you like somethinghot to drink?" he asked. "Chocolate or coffee?" His tone was caressing.
"I don't want anything except to get home."
"Then we'll go home, little girl. I only thought you might be chilledsitting here in the cold so long."
He spoke with placid tenderness, as if their quarrel belonged to theBabylonian era of their acquaintance. Priscilla cast a frightenedglance at him. She felt like a fly, partially disentangling itself fromthe spider's web, only to find itself again mysteriously ensnared."Don't, Horace," she exclaimed impulsively.
"Don't what, Priscilla?"
"Don't talk as if nothing had happened. If you believe that I'm aliar--"
"My dear girl, don't be absurd. We'd better not talk till you'recalmer."
"I'm as calm as I'm likely to be when I'm talking of this, Horace. Ifyou think it a little thing to doubt my word, I don't agree with you."
He took her arm and bent down till his face was very close to hers."Can't you make allowances, Priscilla, for a man crazed with love andjealousy?"
"You haven't any right--" Her voice broke in a sob. She foughtdesperately against the tears that placed her, she vaguely realized,at such a serious disadvantage, but they were too much f
or her. Theysplashed down on her white cheeks, and the couples crowding pastglanced at her curiously.
"Forgive me, Priscilla. I accept your explanation. I ask yourforgiveness. I am at your feet."
She was lost and she knew it, but she struggled nevertheless. "We'vemade a mistake. We're not happy, either of us. It's better to stop nowthan later."
"Priscilla--are you in love with him?"
Horace's tone had changed magically. It was no longer tenderlymatter-of-fact, but tragic, desperate. She stared at him aghast. "Inlove--why, what, do you mean?"
"With that man who sat beside you to-day, the man who did not dare comeback and face me."
"Horace,--why, Horace, you must be crazy. I told you I had never seenhim but once before, and I told you what happened then."
Her disclaimer did not afford him any especial relief. He was mutteringto himself. She caught the words, "As well now as later," and feargripped her heart. He did not directly address her till they had leftthe field behind, and were no longer surrounded by the laughing,buoyant throng.
"I have foreseen this, Priscilla. I have known that happiness was notfor me. But I have tried to shut my eyes to the truth, to hope for theimpossible. Now you have thrown me away like a ripped glove--"
"Horace, I didn't." Even at this tragic moment the thought crossedPriscilla's mind that instead of throwing away a ripped glove asworthless, she would sit down conscientiously to mend it. She brushedaside the reflection as unworthy the occasion and hurried on, "It isn'tthat. But if we can't be happy now, if we're always irritating andhurting each other--"
"You don't need to say more, Priscilla. You are weary of me. I haddreamed I had found a soul capable of constancy--but no matter. Thisis good-by, Priscilla. I cannot live without you. When you take awayyour love from me, you take away all that makes life endurable. All Iask now is forgetfulness, and only death can promise me that--Good-by,Priscilla."
Poor Priscilla! She should have known better. Long before she haddiscovered Horace's weakness for posing. It was no secret to her thathe experienced the keenest satisfaction in contemplating the ravageswrought in his nature by successive disillusionments. Yet though sheunderstood, at this crisis her good sense failed her. In spite ofherself, she interpreted Horace's speech by her own sincerity, and achill terror took possession of her. He would kill himself and shewould be to blame. Although the law would not recognize her crime, atthe bar of her own conscience she would be adjudged guilty of murder.
"Horace," she wailed, "you did not understand me. I want to makeyou happy, that's all. If you think we haven't made a mistake, I'msatisfied."
It took a long time to reassure Horace. It was so hard to explainmatters satisfactorily that it almost seemed as if he were stupid orelse wilfully perverse. Much of the time he stared blankly ahead, solost in gloomy reflections that she had to speak his name twice, beforeshe could attract his attention. His lips moved, too, but without asound, as if he were saying things too dreadful to be heard. AltogetherPriscilla suffered intolerably before she could bring the unhappy youngman to reconsider his desperate purpose.
At last she was partially successful. He became calm enough to listento her repeated assurances that all she thought of was his happinessand, though his mood was still sober when they parted, he had given ahalf-hearted and reluctant promise that he would surrender, for thepresent at least, all thought of doing away with the life he valued solightly.
Priscilla was not sure how she got through the rest of the day. Hermother noticed her abstraction and speculated hopefully as to whethershe had quarreled with Horace. While Priscilla's parents had never beenlet into the secret of the engagement, they could not be unaware ofthe significance of Horace's attentions. Like most American fathersand mothers, they believed a girl should be allowed to choose her ownfriends, unless there was some decided reason to oppose her choice.Although neither of them liked Horace, the reasons for their prejudicewere too vague and too personal to constitute a ground for opposingthe intimacy. Moreover, both of Priscilla's parents were of theopinion that if she saw enough of the young man she would tire of themannerisms they found so objectionable.
It was not till Priscilla was safe in bed that she dared relieve herover-burdened heart by tears. And as she lay sobbing with the coverletover her head, she solemnly relinquished all hope of happiness in thisworld.
"It was my vanity that got me into this," lamented Priscilla. "I didn'tlike to feel I was less attractive than the other girls and so I fairlysnatched at Horace. Now I've got to stand by my promise if it kills me,but Oh, how am I going to bear it!"
So Priscilla cried herself to sleep. And there was an added poignancyin her grief as she remembered that the Combs family was notablylong-lived, boasting some distant ancestors who had rounded out a fullcentury of existence.
Peggy Raymond's Way; Or, Blossom Time at Friendly Terrace Page 14
