“I understand it perfectly,” he said, turning and looking comprehendingly into her eyes. “I had it happen to me once, when I stood high above a job I was working on and something went wrong, putting me in great peril. I lost my nerve completely and was about to fall to my death. For days after the danger was past I could not go to my job. I dared not get to that height again. Then some One very strong came and saved me from myself, and the terror all left me. I’ll tell you about it sometime, but not now. You’d better stop thinking about it at once and get some sunshine in your face before you get home or your mother will be frightened. Aunt Marian will think I didn’t take very good care of you.”
She looked up at him gratefully. “You won’t need to tell Mother?”
“No, indeed. Why frighten her? It’s all over, you know.”
He turned and smiled down upon her, putting one hand warmly over hers, and again that thrilling sense of his strength guarding her filled her shaken young soul with peace.
The rest of the drive was taken in silence, his hand over hers to reassure her, and when they reached the house he said with a keen look into her eyes, “Are you all right now?”
She nodded brightly. “Only ashamed.”
“Forget it!” he said, grinning, and with a friendly squeeze of her hand he sprang out to open the door for her.
The lunch was a merry one. Marigold, who felt shy and silent at first, rallied her forces and grew talkative, telling of all she had seen and heard. Her mother, watching anxiously, decided that she needn’t worry after all. Her dear child seemed to be enjoying herself hugely. Probably the two young people had managed to get better acquainted during the morning, and Marigold wouldn’t be so difficult the rest of the time.
The day was gorgeous and the drive a wonderful one. Marigold, as the new interests of the trip enthralled her, entirely forgot her eagerness to return to her home in time for the party. She had thought about it as they were starting, deciding that even if they got back as late as five o’clock, she might venture to get the six o’clock train if she still felt it wise. Three hours would bring her home at nine, and she could change on the train if she wanted to and take a taxi straight to the party, explaining her appearance after she got there. But anyway, she was going on that drive. She had always wanted to see Mount Vernon, and she might never have such a good chance again.
So the party and even Laurie were forgotten as they glided along beside the wide silver river, getting new visions of the fairy city that looked even more unearthly in the pearly afternoon light than it had the evening before.
Ethan had reverted to what she judged must be his normal self. Though he had put the two sisters in the backseat and placed Marigold in front with himself, he paid little attention to her, seldom talked much to her—except to point out something of interest they were passing—and made his conversation quite general, rather ignoring her. Marigold wondered at it a little and felt even somewhat mortified. He probably thought her a little fool, emotional and silly, who couldn’t keep her head. All his gentleness of the morning was quite gone. He was the same indifferent stranger that he had been the night before. It was hard to take in his kindness of the morning, to remember how he had carried her down those stairs and held her so comfortingly as if she had been a little frightened child.
Well, perhaps it was just as well. She would be able more easily to put the whole incident out of her mind and her life. But anyway, she had somehow the feeling that a permanent cure for that dream had been created for her that morning, and she must always feel grateful to him for what he had done.
But the day was fine, the winter landscape a dream, the car luxurious—why not forget it all as he had suggested and just enjoy herself?
And so she tried to do just that, though now and then she would glance at his cool, impersonal countenance and feel a trifle chagrined at his indifference, even while chiding herself that she cared. She didn’t care, of course; she was only trying to forget Laurie and the party, trying also to forget her mortification of the morning.
When they reached Mount Vernon they parked the car in a pleasant place, leaving the two sisters to enjoy one another’s company, and went to explore the ancient landmark. Then Ethan caught her hand and said, “Come,” and together they ran up the frosty drive to the old house. That bit of interlude did a good deal toward making Marigold feel more comfortable. This pleasant impersonal comradeship was much better than the solemn dignity with which he had been addressing her all afternoon. They laughed together and joked a little about the old days when knee breeches, lace ruffles, and hair ribbons were in vogue for men, and candlelight was the only illumination even in grand mansions.
After they had been over the place, hand in hand they ran down the snowy hill again, laughing like two children, and the soft color was glowing in Marigold’s cheeks as they returned decorously to the car.
The two women smiled to each other as they saw them coming. It was good to them to see the young people whom they loved having a pleasant time together.
Marigold had forgotten all about going home. It was six o’clock when they reached the house, and the pleasant scents of dinner hung in the air—Aunt Marian’s birthday dinner! Of course she couldn’t run away from it.
Marigold hurried up to her room and slipped on the green silk. It wasn’t exactly the dress for a simple home dinner, but she felt in a gala mood, and it was bright and pretty, a dress that probably would have been much too plain for the Trescott party but was not out of keeping for almost any simpler occasion.
“Mother, is this too much? I thought it would be fun to wear it once,” she said as her mother entered the room.
“It’s lovely!” said her mother. “Just sweet and lovely, and your aunt Marian will be pleased. Yes, wear it. It is very charming.”
So Marigold went down to dinner looking like a flower with lovely green foliage around her, and Ethan stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked at her in wonder and a kind of awe.
“I’ve put on my party dress to do you honor, Aunt Marian,” she said as she came into the room. “You won’t think me silly, will you? I thought it would be fun.”
“How dear of you, child!” said the aunt, looking at her with deep admiration. “I think that was a lovely thing to do, spend its freshness on a lonely old woman! But you know, I don’t believe any party would enjoy it half as much as I shall. It is a beauty, isn’t it, Mary? And so attractive, so simple and quaint in its style. It is charming. I feel as though I am selfish to have all this resplendence just for me. I should go to the telephone and call the neighbors in to meet my lovely guest.”
“Well,” said Ethan suddenly, “my opinion hasn’t been asked, and of course it doesn’t count, but I can enjoy a good thing when I see it, too, and I should say that gown was a prize. I don’t remember having seen a prettier one anywhere. The only trouble with it is that it puts me in the shade. I had some tickets for the symphony concert tonight, and I had been daring to hope that Miss Brooke would honor me with her company, but now I’m afraid she will be ashamed to go with me. You see, I didn’t happen to bring any glad rags along.”
They all laughed at that as they sat down, and the birthday supper began, but after everybody was served, Marigold spoke up.
“I want to get this thing settled before I begin,” she said. “I adore symphony concerts, and if my glad rags are going to keep me out of this one I’d better run right up now before I begin eating and change into the plainest thing I have.”
Ethan looked at her and grinned, and almost she felt on a friendly footing with him again. She wondered why it was she cared so much whether he stayed friendly or not, and what it was that made him get solemn and indifferent every little while.
They had a pleasant supper and escorted the invalid upstairs in a procession, Ethan carrying her lightly as if she had been a child. Marigold found herself wondering about herself in those same arms coming down the Capitol stairs earlier in the day. He probably thought no more of
it than he did of carrying his aunt now, and she must stop making so much out of a simple little thing like that. It was ridiculous to be so self-conscious. He was nothing to her, anyway. It would have been a great deal better for herself and everybody else concerned if she had stayed at home and gone to her party and not come here and acted like a silly little fool, getting all sorts of notions in her head.
She watched Ethan lay his aunt gently upon the bed and remembered how he had stood herself upon her feet and wiped her tears away with his own handkerchief. Why on earth did she have to come here and get her mind all tangled up thinking about a strange young man who was nothing in the world to her and never could be? Laurie was enough for her to worry about without her taking on another. She ought this very minute to be worrying over the fact that Laurie hadn’t telephoned. It would have been just like Laurie to get an airplane from some of his friends and come after her, if he got the idea in his head. What had happened to Laurie? Oughtn’t she to go right to the telephone now, while they were all busy and wouldn’t notice her absence for a minute or two, and telephone Mrs. Waterman? That was an idea. She could go home even yet and get there in time for some of the party. Should she try?
But then Aunt Marian called for a game and motioned Marigold to a chair beside her.
Well, this was Aunt Marian’s birthday, and she wouldn’t spoil it by being absent. She would have to go to bed pretty soon. So Marigold settled down and puzzled her brain over thirty mistakes that she was supposed to find in a picture and forgot Laurie entirely.
They had a very happy hour before the nurse bustled in and shooed them all out, saying the patient really must go to bed and to sleep at once.
“Well,” said Ethan, turning toward Marigold as they came out of Aunt Marian’s room, “what’s the answer? Am I to be favored with company to the concert, or are you ashamed of my informal dress?”
“Ashamed! Oh, my no!” said Marigold, her cheeks flaming bright with pleasure. “I was afraid it was too late.”
“No, we have plenty of time. It’s barely eight, and the music doesn’t begin till eight thirty. Besides, we have seats and would have no trouble getting in.”
“I’ll be ready in just a minute,” said Marigold eagerly. “But—am I too giddy-looking in this bright dress? Will you be ashamed of me? I could change in just a jiffy.”
“Ashamed?” He grinned. “I’ll be prouder than I care to own. You look like something great! I think that is a swell dress.”
Marigold’s cheeks grew pinker, and her eyes sparkled.
“Thank you,” she said and then flew away to get her wrap.
“How about you, Aunt Mary? Wouldn’t you like to go, too? I have a friend down at the office, and I’m sure I can get another ticket.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Brooke said, smiling, “I’m a little tired from the drive this afternoon. I think I’d better stay and rest. Besides, I have found a lovely book I would like to read.”
So the young people were off together again.
Tucked into the darkness of the car with Ethan’s tall form beside her, Marigold suddenly realized that she was having a very good time indeed and doubted if she would have had a better time if she had stayed at home and gone to the party. Somehow she felt as if she knew Ethan a little better, now that he had complimented her dress. Anyway, she was resolved to have a good time this evening in spite of everything. Ethan Bevan wasn’t, of course, anything to her, and after she went home she would likely never see him again; but at least for tonight, she was resolved to enjoy everything. She loved music, and if he could talk about music as well as he could talk about those paintings that morning, surely she had an enjoyable evening before her.
“I’m glad you were willing to go tonight,” said Ethan suddenly, guiding his car skillfully through traffic. “I took a chance buying these tickets. I didn’t know whether you cared for music or not.”
“I love it!” said Marigold enthusiastically. “Only I don’t have many chances to hear it. Mother and I don’t go out very much. Mother is often tired. And most of the young people I know don’t seem to be interested in music. They like wild parties and jazz and nightclubs and things.”
“And you? Don’t you go in for those things?” He studied her face keenly in the dim light of the car.
Marigold sat in a troubled silence.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly at last. “I’ve only gone once or twice, and then I felt very uncomfortable and out of place. I don’t just know why. It didn’t seem real.”
He was still studying her. At last he said slowly, “You would be out of place. It wouldn’t fit you. It isn’t real.”
She expected him to say more, but he didn’t. Just drove on and sat quietly, now and then looking at her furtively.
“Well,” said Marigold at last with a little lilt in her voice, “I know I’m going to enjoy it tonight. Though I may not feel quite at home—I think it will be something like the outside door of heaven.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
When they were in the concert hall at last and the first great strains of the opening number were thrilling through the air, Marigold tried to think over their conversation on the way, and somehow she couldn’t remember much that was said, but it had left a nice, comfortable, pleasant impression, as if they were in accord.
Occasionally when something in the program especially pleased her, she glanced up at him with her eyes full of delight, and every time she found his pleasant glance upon her, evidently enjoying her pleasure. There was none of that aloofness, that disapproval, she had felt at intervals all day, and she was relieved and content.
He was enjoying the music, too. She knew it by the way his glance met hers at the most exquisite climaxes. On the way home he spoke about certain phrases, the way the woodwind instruments echoed the melody in the symphony, the technique of the solo artist, the depth of insight into the meaning of the score shown by the conductor. She listened to his comments with interest. She had never heard anyone talk of music in this way. None of Laurie’s friends knew or liked any music but the weirdest jazz, and then only as an accompaniment to dancing or as a shield for their wild, hilarious conversation. She felt as if this young man regarded it almost as a holy thing, music.
Marigold was sorry when they got back to the house and she had to go to bed. She didn’t want to be by herself. She was afraid she was suddenly going to realize that the party was now going on and she was missing it. But instead, when she slipped quietly in beside her sleeping mother, all the thinking she did was to wonder about the look Ethan Bevan had given her when he had said good night. Did it have withdrawal again in its quality, or was it just pleasant approval? Almost he had looked as if he were sorry to have to say good night so soon. Buy why should she care to discuss the matter with herself? Miles away at home there was a wonderful party going on now to which she had been invited and might just as well have gone! And here she was off spending her time with a young man she had never seen before and hadn’t at all liked at first. One who had decidedly disapproved of her at first, too, she was sure.
Things were strange. Why was she here? She had no one to blame for it but herself. And why did she puzzle over this young man? Let him think what he chose. He had admired her dress, anyway. Or had he? Sometimes she thought he was just poking fun at her, laughing in his sleeve at her all the time. Perhaps he thought she put on that dress to charm him. Why should she want to charm him? She had Laurie. Or did she? Was he not perhaps even at this moment dancing with that other girl, giving that long adoring look into her eyes that Marigold knew so well and up to two days ago had considered all her own?
Oh well!
Marigold drew a deep sigh, turning softly over, and suddenly there came to her the memory of those strong arms around her that had rescued her from that terrible sense of falling and brought her to earth so safely that her fear was lost! In the memory of that, she drifted peacefully off to sleep.
It w
as late when she awoke. Her mother had dressed and gone to eat breakfast from a tray with her sister. Marigold dressed hurriedly and went down, wondering if Ethan Bevan would be gone.
He had finished his breakfast, that was evident, for there was only one place set at the table.
As she drank her orange juice, she wondered about him. Perhaps he had gone back to his boardinghouse. It might be that she would not see him again before she left. He had said he had important things to do.
“Mr. Ethan had his breakfast early,” remarked the maid as she brought the cereal and cream. “He went out to the breakfast mission, I think he said.”
Breakfast mission. What might that be? Well, she would probably not need to worry anymore what he was thinking; she could go her own way now and see the city as she pleased without having to wonder whether she was pleasing his highness or not. There must be some old churches. She would look some of them up and find quaint old-time landmarks—sacred, historic places of worship. She might have asked Ethan yesterday about them, but she was glad she had not. He would have thought he had to attend her again, and he had certainly served his time at being host to her. She would just wander out and find them for herself. There must be churches all around, and certainly a lot of places she would like to see at her leisure.
She had just finished the last bite of her delicious breakfast and was about to go upstairs to see her mother and aunt before sallying forth on her voyage of discovery, when Ethan walked in at the front door and flung his hat on the hall table.
“Oh, you’re down,” he said casually. “I didn’t know whether the household had waked up yet or not. I had to go out on an early quest. One of my men, my laborers at the job, has been absent for nearly a week, and I wanted to hunt him up. He has been off on a drunk, I suspect, for he left with his pay envelope last Saturday. I had a notion he must be about out of funds by this time, so I went the rounds of the usual rendezvous and found him at last at the Sunday morning breakfast mission. I thought he’d be about ready for that by this time. I gave him a lecture and fixed him with the mission for the day, arranged with another fellow to bring him to the job tonight, and he promised me he’d keep straight and be on hand bright and early tomorrow morning. I hope he will, but you are never sure.”
The Flower Brides Page 10
