CHAPTER II.
CADGE'S ASSIGNMENT.
"You say Winship is around at your place?" asked Judge Baker Fridaymorning. I had before told him about the approaching marriage. "Thedear old boy! I am very glad."
"He wants to talk with you about a mortgage," I said bluntly. "Can youdissuade him? I think the situation in its main features is no secretto you."
The Judge frowned in surprise. "You don't mean that she--"
"Of course Helen has refused her father's offer. We have so arrangedeverything that no help from him is needed, but he may be ratherobstinate, for I'm afraid she wrote to him, suggesting--I mean, she nowregrets it," I added.
"Ah, those regrets! Those regrets!" He sat silent for a moment,thinking deeply. "That phase of an otherwise rosy situation isunfortunate. I will do my best with Winship, and you must explain to meyour proposed arrangements; for I claim an uncle's privilege to be ofuse to Nelly, and she, with perhaps natural reticence, has acquaintedme only partially with her affairs. I rejoice to hear that she nowwishes to spare her father, but--you will pardon me, Burke?--she washasty; she was hasty. It is easier to set forces of love or hate movingthan to check them in motion. Sometimes I think, Burke, that peoplewere in certain ways less reckless in the good old days when they hadperpetually before their eyes the vision of a hair-trigger God, alwayscocked and ready to shoot if they crossed the line of duty. But Nellyis coming bravely through a severe test of character. May I offer youboth my heartiest--"
It was just at that happy moment that the office boy announced Mr.Winship to share the Judge's kind wishes; and by good luck in came alsoMrs. Baker, but a moment behind him.
"Why, Ezra!" she chirped in a flutter of amazed cordiality at sight ofher husband's visitor. "You in New York? Why, for Nelly's wedding, ofcourse! John Burke, why've you kept us in the dark these months andmonths? I'm--I'm really ashamed of you!"
Her plump gloved hands seized Mr. Winship's, while her small, swift,bird-like eyes looked reproach at me.
"Patience, Mrs. Baker; patience!" rejoined the Judge. "Is not anengaged man entitled to his secrets? Has it escaped your memory how,once upon a time, you and I--."
"There, now, Bake! Stop, can't you?" she interrupted with vehement goodnature; and I ceased to intrude upon the three old friends.
That afternoon, when I sought Helen at the studio, I was more surprisedthan I should have been, and wonderfully relieved to discover theresult of their conference.
Ignorant of any quarrel and overflowing with anxiety, Helen's fatherhad unbosomed his anxieties about her health and accomplished what nodiplomacy could have done. Mrs. Baker had flown with him to the studio,where, constrained by his presence, Helen had submitted to anincredible truce with her aunt.
"I told Tim'thy an' Frances we'd eat Sunday dinner with 'em," Mr.Winship told me; "an' they say you'n' Sis had ought to be married f'omtheir house. Good idee, seems to me, though Sis here don't take to it,somehow."
"Oh, I suppose I can endure Aunt Frank," said Helen, making savage dabsat Cadge's typewriter; "if you wish it--you and John."
She was making a great effort for her father's sake, and I could notexclaim against her chilly reception of the olive branch.
"It'll please Ma, w'en she comes to hear 'bout it; she thinks a sightof Frank Baker," urged Mr. Winship.
"'Fraid I'll have to tackle someb'dy else 'bout that money," he went onafter a pause; "Tim'thy says he ain't got a cent loose, jest now. I didkind o' want to keep it quiet, keep it to the fambly like, but I cangit it; I can git th' money; on'y it'll take time."
"Why, Father, I begged you not to try," said Helen impatiently. "Idon't need money; ask John."
"W'at you've spent can't come on John," declared Mr. Winship; "I'llhave to be inquirin' 'round. But I'm glad to see ye lookin' brighter'nyou did yist'day, Sissy; Tim'thy's wife'll have an eye on ye. She'scomin' here agin to-morrer, she says, to a weddin'. You didn't tell me'bout any one gittin' married--not in sich a hurry, not to-morrer.W'ich gal is it?"
"Wouldn't think it was Cadge, would you?" laughed Kitty, staggeringinto the room under the weight of a big palm. "Next chum I have, it'llbe in the contract that, in case of emergency, she helps run her ownwedding. 'Course Helen's all right with me--or will be, once CarolineBryant's disposed of."
In spite of the confusion of the wedding preparations, Helen did docredit to Kitty's nursing; and last evening, when there came the climaxof all the bustle, she seemed stronger even than on Friday.
It was a night to remember!
The big Indians of the canvasses peeped grimly from ambushes of flowersand tall ferns, as the studio door opened and Kitty came running tomeet me, her cheeks flushed and her curls in a hurricane.
"'Most time for the minister," she cried breathlessly, "and not a signof Cadge! Not a sign! And I want to tell you--Helen's sorry we invitedthe General, but she won't come, so that's no matter; but theBakers--do they like him?"
"Like the minister?"
"Like Ned Hynes?" panted Kitty. "When we asked 'em yesterday, I forgot,but he'll be here. Pros. and he belong to a downtown club--'At the Signof the Skull and Crossbones'--or something--"
"Well?"
"Oh, it's all right, but I thought I'd tell you. If only Cadge'd come!That's what eating me!" Kitty groaned. "But do you see our Princess?All she needed was me to make her comfy. Shall I get you the leastlittle bit of colour, out of a box, Helen? Or--no; you're too lovely.But come, you must have some roses."
As Helen joined us, very pale in her shimmering dress, with her hairlike an aureole about her head, she looked a tall, white Grace, aswaying lily shining in the dusky place. Almost with the old reverenceI whispered:--
"You are the most beautiful of woman!"
"Do I please you, Sir?" she said, smiling as she moved away again withKitty. "Won't you see to Father? He's come without his necktie."
"Sho, Sis!" said Mr. Winship; "don't my beard hide it? Declare I cleanforgot."
Soon Helen returned to pin a flower at my button-hole.
"Where _can_ Cadge be?" she cried gaily; but her hands shook and shedropped the rose. "Do you suppose she's interviewing a lunatic asylum?"
What had changed her voice and burned fever spots in her cheeks? Iwasn't so indifferent as I had seemed to Kitty's news. Had she toldHelen, too, that Ned Hynes--what was he to my betrothed?
"Can't you rest somewhere and just show for the ceremony?" I said,"Nelly, you're not strong."
"There's not a place big enough for a mouse. But did you mean it? Do Ireally look well to-night? Am I just as beautiful as I was three-fourmonths ago, or have I--"
"Oh, do slip out and 'phone the _Star_! I can feel my hair whitening,"whispered Kitty, turning to me hastily, as a couple of women entered."See, folks are beginning to come."
I went out into the warm and rainy night, but there was no Cadge at the_Star_ office. By the time I had returned with this information, theeyry held a considerable gathering. Mrs. Baker had arrived, and her twodaughters; but I had no time to wonder at Milly's coming, for behind meentered Mrs. Van Dam and then, among a group of strangers, I noticedHynes.
Involuntarily, at sight of him, my eyes turned to Helen; but not amuscle of her face betrayed deeper feeling than polite pleasure as shehelped Kitty receive the wedding guests, greeting the Generalcordially, Hynes with graciousness.
Kitty's welcome to Mrs. Van Dam would have been irresistibly funny, ifI had had eyes to see the humour.
"Cadge promised to be home early," she sputtered, "but probably she'stelling some one this minute: 'Oh, I'll be there in time; I don't needmuch--not much more than the programme.'
"Can't _you_ guess where she is, Pros.?" she implored in an undertone,as her brother approached us. "If the minister gets here before Cadgedoes, I'll cut her off with a shilling."
"What an interesting place!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Dam, examining hersurroundings through her quizzing glasses. "I've heard so much aboutyour paintings, Miss Reid. And what an astonishing girl, this MissBr
yant! Where can she be? Helen, you sly girl, I hear news about you."
"Oh, very likely Miss Bryant is out of town," Reid answered for herwith a quiet smile. "She'll show up after the paper goes to press, ifnot sooner."
"On her wedding day! The girl's a genius! And when may that be? Whenwill the--ah--when will the paper go to press?"
"They take copy up to two o'clock for the second edition. But she maybehere at any moment."
The General stared at him with amazement.
"Oh, you don't know Cadge," sighed Kitty, "if you think she'd be jarredby her own wedding. But we must do something. Everybody's here andwaiting. Sing, Helen, won't you? Oh, do sing."
Helen had not joined in the rapid conversation. Now she smiled assentwith stately compliance. Undulating across the studio, she returnedwith a mandolin--not the one I remembered, but a pretty bit ofworkmanship in inlaid wood. Bending above this, she relieved the waitby merry, lilting tunes like the music of a bobolink, while Kittyfidgetted in and out, the puckers in her forehead every minute growingdeeper.
While I listened to the gladsome music, my glance strayed to Milly, butshe was almost hidden by the curtains of the tepee; and then to Ned,who sat with his face turned partly away from us. I noticed that helooked gaunt, and I found a bitter satisfaction in the thought that,perhaps, in Helen's "three-four months" he had not seen, until thatnight, either of the women with whose lives his own had been entangled.
"Just one more," begged Kitty, when Helen stopped. "You're my onlyhope; do sing, Helen."
Dropping the mandolin, Helen began without accompaniment "The King ofThule:"--
"'There stood the old carouser, And drank the last life glow; And hurled the hallowed goblet Into the tide below.
"He saw it plunging and filling, And sinking deep in the sea; Then fell his eyelids forever, And never more drank he!'"
It was the ballad she had sung at Christmas--in what different mood!Then her voice had been as carefree as a bird's carol, but now it lentto the limpid simplicity of the air a sobbing, shuddering sweetness--analmost weird intensity that strangely affected her listeners.
When she had finished, something like a gasp went through the room.With a heart-breaking coldness I felt that I was her only unmovedauditor, or--no; Ned seemed studying with weary disapproval the patternof his shoes.
"Love and death; and at a wedding!" Mrs. Van Dam shivered. "Somethingmore cheerful, Helen."
"Let's go--let's go and eat up Cadge's spread; that'd be cheerful,"sniffed Kitty, her hot, nervous hand patting Helen's shoulder. "ThePrincess's tired. But we must do something."
"Eat the wedding supper before the wedding. Original, I must say!"
But the General willingly enough helped Kitty to marshal us into thecrowded little dining-room; where Helen and I found ourselves besideMr. Winship and Ethel. Her father accepted Helen's music with as littlesurprise as he had shown at her beauty.
"Comin' home pretty soon, ain't ye," he asked, "to give us some hymntunes Sunday evenings? W'at'll I git for ye? Must be hungry after somuch singing."
"I'm afraid I wasn't in voice to-night," said she rather wearily.
"Not in voice!" protested Ethel with shy enthusiasm; "why, Nelly, Inever before heard even you sing like that; it was-it was-oh, it waswonderful!"
I dared not look at her, yet I saw every movement of the slight littlefigure--saw the blush of eagerness that mounted even to the blondelittle curls about her forehead; and, retreating impatiently, I triedto follow Mr. Winship's example, as he waited on the company with aquaintly fine courtesy. Indeed, he made quite a conquest of theGeneral, who presently, after chatting with him for some time with keeninterest, asked abruptly:--
"Why haven't we had him here before? So interesting, such an original!Room here for you, Milly. Some salad, please, Mr. Hynes."
Hynes's pinched face took colour. With alacrity he obeyed the General'sorders, fetching plates and glasses, and hovering about the group thatincluded Milly and her mother, until Mrs. Baker's face began to wear adisturbed flush, though Milly's small, white features remainedimpassive.
I watched the little drama with dawning comprehension. Then Ned didnot--Helen--it was really Ethel's sister with whom he longed to makepeace, while I--Ethel--
Helen's voice roused me.
"Can't we go into the other room?" she asked. "I'm tired; can't we goand sit quietly together?"
With the fading of the glow and colour left by the music, she lookedindeed tired, almost haggard. In spite of the regal self possessionwith which she rose, drawing Ethel with her, I knew in the face ofMilly's triumph-yes, I had known before--why her restless spirit hadspurred her on to such flights of folly; why she had--she brings nolove to me; has she perhaps offered pity?
We turned together to the door, but there was a sound of hurrying feet,and Miss Bryant rushed before us, followed by a big bearded giant of aman.
"Forbear and eat no more till my necessities be served," she declaimed,advancing to the table. "Food has not passed my lips to-day; or--notmuch food."
"Cadge!" gasped Helen with a choking laugh, sinking again upon herchair.
Reid calmly extended a plate of salad to his betrothed, while Kittygroaned, scandalized:--
"You mustn't eat now! You mustn't! Where've you been? Look at the stateyou're in! _Don't_ eat, Cadge; you must dress this minute!"
"Bridgeport," returned Miss Bryant, grinning benevolently on thewedding guests, her wet hair clinging about her face, her shirt waistdampened with the raindrops that trickled from her hatbrim. "Driving anantelope to a racing sulky. If _I_ bear marks, y'ought to see theantelope; _and_ the sulky! Seven column picture, Kitty; I've made alay-out. You must get right at it--antelope kicking the atmosphere intosmall pieces--"
"Cadge," suggested Reid, mildly, "our train leaves at midnight."
"We'll make it; but this story must come out whether or not 'Mrs.Prosper K. Reid' does. Won't dress, but--say, just you show my weddinggown, Kitty; not for publication but as an evidence--more salad, Pros."
Kitty ran and brought a billowy mass of fleecy white stuff, and Cadgestood, devouring salad, over the dainty thing, gesticulating at it withher fork and explaining its beauties:--
"You can see for yourselves it's swell. Mrs. Edgar fitted me at the_Star_ office, with furious mug-makers pounding on the door."
"With _what_?" gasped the General.
"Mug-makers; alleged artists; after an old photo. Anyhow, it's money inMrs. Edgar's pocket. One of her biggest customers owes her a lot, shesays, and she can't get a cent; needed cash to pay her rent; little boyill, too. My, but I'm hungry! Can't I eat while I'm being married?"
I felt Helen start; I remembered that I had seen Mrs. Edgar's nameamong her bills. Poor girl!
And then the wedding; and the practical Cadge surprised us all.
All her soul was shining in her eyes as she said, "I will." She lookedupon Pros. with the shy love of a girl who has loved but once. For abrief minute we saw the depth, the earnestness, the affection that inher seek so often the mask of frivolity, and I wouldn't be surprised ifmore than one tempest-tossed soul envied her peace, her love, hercertitude.
The ceremony was short. The giant, who proved to be Big Tom, gave awaythe bride. As the couple rushed off for a brief honeymoon, the newlymade Mrs. Reid--still with the shimmer of tears in her beautifuleyes--tried hard to resume her old manner.
"'Member, Kitty," she called back from the stairway in a voice thattrembled, "you can't make that antelope cavort too lively. Brown'llsend photographs in the morning."
Soon only Mr. Winship and I were left with Kitty and Helen and thepainted Indians.
"What a Cadge!" said Helen languidly, as she walked with us to thedoor. "But she's the best girl in the world."
I believe she's pretty nearly right. I haven't always done Miss Bryantjustice. My mind dwelt upon the lovely picture she had made of trustand happiness; and I wondered whether my own wife would show shining,happy eyes like hers when--In my restless
dreams the vision of themlingered, grotesquely alternating with a swaying figure driving ashadowy antelope--a figure that was sometimes Helen's and sometimeslittle Ethel's--until I waked--
And thus began to-day--it has been the hardest day in a hard week.
It is three hours now, maybe, since we returned from Mrs. Baker'sSunday dinner. A love feast after a feud is trying, but Helen wasbrave. Mrs. Baker is too honest for diplomacy, and at first I watchedHelen nervously, as she sat in the familiar library, a red spot in eachcheek, pitting a quiet hauteur against the embarrassed chirpings of heraunt and Milly's sphynx-like silence.
But little by little the cordiality of the Judge and of his tactfulsister, helped by Ethel's radiant delight and Mr. Winship's pleasure inthe visit, gave another flavour to the dinner than that of the fattedcalf, and warmed the atmosphere out of its chill reminiscence of theencounter with Hynes.
The children, too, were a resource, though for a minute Joy was aterror. Baker, junior, was offering me a kodak picture, when she camerunning up to look at it.
"You can have it," said Boy; "it's clearer than the one you liked theother day."
"Thath me!" cried Joy, with a fiendish hop and skip. "Me'n Efel on 'ethidewalk. Mither Burke, you like me'n Efel?"
"I like you very much."
"Efel too, or o'ny me? Mr. Burke, w'y you don't like Efel too?"
Like Ethel--the shy little wild flower! Like Ethel!
"Say, Mr. Burke," said Boy opportunely, "here's an envelope to put itin."
"W'at I like," Mr. Winship said, his frosty blue eyes twinkling withenjoyment, "is to see Sis here gittin' a good dose o' home folks; doher more good'n med'cine."
And almost he seemed right, for, as the minutes wore on, a brightercolour rose to Helen's cheeks, and the marvellous charm she knows sowell how to use held us fascinated. She waged a war of jests with theJudge and fell back into her old caressing ways with Miss Baker. Ethelcould scarcely contain her happiness, and even Milly showed signs ofmelting.
I brought Helen away as early as I could--as soon as we had completedplans for a quiet wedding next Wednesday.
"I hope you're proud of her, Ezra," declared Mrs. Baker as we tookleave; "she told you she's refused a title? But there! All foreignersbreak their wives' hearts--Nelly's a sensible girl! You didn't expect,though, to find New York crazy over her?"
"Oh, I don't know; Helen 'Lizy's ma was a hansome girl; Sis here hadought to be satisfied if she wears a half as well."
"Come again thoon to thing to Joy," lisped the baby; "Joy loveth youtho muth."
Helen buried her face in the yellow curls, and when she turned away hereyes were wet.
I stayed at the studio only long enough to beg Kitty to see that hercharge rests. Just as we were parting at the door, Helen turned full onme her great, lambent eyes.
"Do you love me?" she asked suddenly.
"Why, I loved you," I replied, "when you were a little freckled Nellyin pigtails."
And that, at least, is true! God help me to be kind to the mostbeautiful woman in the world!
Bacillus of Beauty: A Romance of To-day Page 32
