CHAPTER XIII
WHAT TONY BUILT
By a caprice of chance, it was that day Masterson came; almost at thehour when Adriance, tired and exultant, was rearing a structure of gooddreams as he ate his cheap food at the counter of the lunch-cart underthe shadow of the huge electric sign bearing his name.
Morning had arrived at noon, when Elsie was called to her front door bya clang of the bell; one of those small gongs favored years ago, thatsnap with a pulled handle. Down at the end of the straight path sheheard laughter and the high-pitched voices of women above the soft rollof an automobile's motor. Surprised, she opened the door.
Before her, on the high, absurd little porch, a man in motoring fursstood and steadied himself by grasping the snow-powdered railing.Confronted by a woman, he lifted his cap, and a sunbeam piercing the oldroof gleamed across his close-clipped auburn curls.
"I was told at the little shop that a chauffeur lived here," heexplained, pleasantly enough. The glare of the sun on snow dazzled hisfirst vision. "Our compressed air system is out of order, and my manforgot to put in a hand-pump. I----"
His voice trailed away into silence. He had seen her face.
"Elsie?" he doubted. "Elsie?"
She smiled at him with her serene composure, although deep color sweptover her face with the startled movement of her blood.
"Mrs. Adriance," she corrected. "Will you not come in? I am sorry Mr.Adriance is not at home."
He crossed the threshold mechanically, his gaze not leaving her.
"I did not believe it," he exclaimed, under his breath. "I thoughtLucille--lied."
"Mr. Masterson!"
He shook his head in deprecation of offense, continuing his scrutiny ofher. He had the appearance of a man fevered by drink or illness; hiseyes were bright behind a surface glaze, his face was haggard, yetflushed. His features, always of a fineness almost suggestingeffeminacy, had sharpened to an extreme delicacy that promised littlefor health or endurance.
"They told me a chauffeur lived here," he said, presently.
"Anthony is a chauffeur," she answered, compassion for the change in himmaking her voice very gentle. "But I am afraid we have no automobiletools to lend. All such things are kept at the factory or in the machinehe drives."
He swept aside the subject of automobiles with an impatient movement ofhis hand, and slowly turned to look over the room.
It had gathered much of comfort during those last months, that room; andsomething more. Scarlet-flowered curtains hung at the windows, echoingthe vivid note of scarlet salvia in bloom on the sills. A shelf of bookshad been put up; beneath, a small table held the jade-and-ivory chessmendrawn up in battle array on their field. As always, the fire glowed, andon the hearth the cat stretched drowsily. Cheer dwelt in the place, theatmosphere of comradeship and assured love; and the pulse of it all wasthe girl who stood, tranquil of regard, rich in life and beautiful withhealth, princess in her own domain.
At her Masterson looked longest, his handsome, bitter mouth oddlytwisted out of shape.
"You're different," he pronounced, finally.
"I am very happy."
"Happy? Here? You married a millionaire's son to live here?"
"I married to live with my husband," she proudly corrected him.
Again he looked around, and suddenly laughed out with an over-loud lackof control that in a woman would have been called hysterical.
"Tony Adriance's house!" he cried, striking his gloved hands together."Tony--idle Tony, easy Tony, Tony of teas and tangos--Tony has builtthis! Why----," he bent toward her. "You have been matching work withGod, Elsie Adriance; you have made a man!"
She drew back, aghast at the bold irreverence. He laughed again at herexpression.
"You think I meant that wrongly? I did not. I know well enough the wayTony is going, and the way I am. That is if he sticks to this! Are younever afraid he will not! Never afraid he will drift back to the easierways?"
"No," she affirmed. A shining radiance lighted her confident eyes. Shecarried beneath her heart that which made Anthony and her forever one.Fear was done with; it no longer, wolf-like, hunted down her happiness.
"No? Do you think he will be content to be a chauffeur on a honeymoonall his life? I'm going to do something decent, Elsie; I'm going to helpyou clinch Tony Adriance. No, don't protest. I'm going to force my helpon you both, wanted or not. Why, you can't keep him out of New Yorkforever! Send him there to-night, to me, and I'll finish what you havebegun."
Amazed and dismayed, she retreated from his urgency.
"Excuse me," she began a stiff refusal.
He cut her short with impatience.
"Then I'll leave a message for him. Don't look like that; I only wanthim to meet me in a public restaurant. Can't you trust me?"
"You do not understand."
"I understand more than you do," he retorted bluntly. "But if I amwrong, no harm will be done. I want to see him, anyhow. Are you afraidof me?"
"No."
"Well, then----?"
He pulled off his gloves and took a card and fountain pen from hispocket. Elsie watched him helplessly as he wrote, chilled in spite ofherself by a return of the old dread. What, was she not able to holdAnthony certainly, even now? She tried to look around her, fortifyingher spirit with all the prosaic evidences of their united life. Afterall, Masterson knew "Tony"; he knew nothing of the man Anthony was.
She was able to meet her visitor's glance with her usual calm, when heput the message he had written into her hand.
"Tell him to come," he pressed. "Have you forgotten he and I werefriends? And I'll always be grateful to you for loving Holly. Did youknow I had lost Holly?"
She paled, the baby face rising before her.
"Lost him! Not----?"
"Dead? No. I'm the one who is dead, to borrow a bit of slang."
His laugh was bitter as quassia; he turned his head toward the sound ofthe automobile horn that summoned him.
"A dead one!" he repeated. "I have to go, Mrs. Adriance. But send Tonyover, to-night."
The door closed on the last word. Elsie heard the high, rather stridentvoices of the women calling salute and impatience; then Masterson'sreply set in a key of strained merriment. The motor roared under thechauffeur's hand. They were departing; evidently a means of inflatingthe tire had been found.
The peace of Elsie's day had departed with them. The alteration inMasterson frightened her; the strangeness of his manner and of hisinvitation filled her with anxiety. Something was wrong; something shecould not guess or understand. Why should he have spoken so of Holly?Why, too, did he want Anthony this night?
Was Mrs. Masterson to be one of the party at the restaurant? That ideacame later. The mere possibility of such an event fixed Elsie'sdecision; she would not send Anthony to the meeting desired. She wouldlet Masterson's accidental visit pass unnoticed.
But when evening came, and with it Adriance, ruddy with the March wind,boyishly hungry and gay; when he took his wife in his arms and kissedher with the deep tenderness that the morning had added to their firstlove, Elsie knew better. Better any misfortune than the barrier ofdeceit between them. And she remembered in time that it was not for herto deprive him of his right of decision and free-will.
She waited until supper was eaten and the blue-and-white dishes shiningin their rack again beside the ten-cent-shop china.
"Shall we go on with our book?" Adriance proposed, when his pipe waslit. Now that the moment had come, it pleased him to dally with thesurprise he held for her, to prolong his secret content. He stretchedluxuriously in his arm-chair. "Lord, it's good to get home! Funny Inever cared much about books until we took to reading aloud, isn't it?Come over and settle down. I think we'll turn in early to-night, if youdon't mind, girl. I want to do some extra work, to-morrow."
She came to him rather slowly.
"Mr. Masterson was here to-day," she said reluctantly. "He came bychance, to borrow something for his automobile. I think it was atire-pump. Of c
ourse he was surprised to find me. And he left this foryou."
Astonished, he took the card, pulling her down beside him; and they readthe message together. It was very brief, yet somehow carried a force ofcompulsion. Masterson urged his friend to go that night to the ball-roomof a certain restaurant known to every New Yorker, and there wait untilhe, Masterson, joined him.
There was a pause after the reading. Adriance stared at the card withthe knitted brow of perplexity, while Elsie watched his face in tensesuspense.
"It would be too late, now, anyway," she murmured, tentatively. "It iseight o'clock."
Adriance aroused himself and laughed.
"Oh, innocence! That ball-room does not open until eleven, fairoutlander. But you had better get ready, for we have a quiterespectable distance to go. Here vanishes our quiet evening!"
"We? You would take me?"
He regarded her curiously.
"Did you suppose I would go without you? We will have to go, becauseFred means this; I know him well enough to tell. I'm afraid he is insome kind of trouble."
Elsie shut her eyes for a moment, mastering her passionate relief. Sheopened them to a new thought.
"Anthony, I haven't any clothes, for such a place."
"Neither have I," he calmly dismissed the matter. "We will go in streetcostume. It doesn't matter, since we do not want to dance. By the way,can you dance?"
"Certainly."
"The new dances?"
"Some of them," a dimple disturbed her smooth cheek. "Not the very newone."
"Well, I'll teach you. But you will only dance with me," he stated withfinality.
Absurdly happy in the jealous prohibition, she went to make ready.
Elsie Murray had possessed one dress that Elsie Adriance never had worn.It was a year old, one brought from her distant home, but so simply madethat its fashion would still pass. It was an afternoon, not eveninggown; a clinging, black sheath of chiffon and net, covering her arms,but leaving bare the creamy pillar of her throat. The cloudy darknessechoed the dark softness of her hair and threw into relief her clear,health-tinted beauty of complexion. When she wore it into the room whereher husband waited, he greeted her with a whistle of surprise andpleasure.
"Some lady!" he approved. "What did you mean--no clothes? Have I seenthat before?"
"No. Do you like me this way?"
He put his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her eyes.
"Of course. But don't you know it doesn't matter what you wear or have?"he asked. "We have got away beyond that, you and I."
They walked to the ferry; two miles through the cold darkness. But theyfound the journey a pleasure, not a hardship. Elsie had taught Anthonyher art of extracting amusement from each experience. On the ferryboat,they had sole possession of the deck. "Mollycoddles," Elsie called thepassengers who huddled into the cabins. The wind painted her cheeks andlips scarlet, as she leaned over the rail to hear the crunch of driftice under the boat's sides. The two evoked quite a sense of arcticvoyage, between them. Anthony gravely insisted he had seen a polar bearon one tossing floe. They were happy enough to relish nonsense; and moreexcited by the coming meeting and place of meeting than either wouldhave admitted.
A Man's Hearth Page 13
