XX
FLIGHT
By five o'clock in the morning she was already moving softly to and fro,so softly as not to rouse the sleeping Marrika. By seven her lightestbag was packed, herself was bathed, brushed, dressed even to hat andgloves, and standing at her window with all the listening alert look ofone in a waiting-room expecting a train. She was watching for the cityto begin to stir; watching for enough traffic below in the streets tomake her own movement there not too noticeable. Yet every moment shewaited she was in terror lest her fate should take violent form at lastand assail her in the moment of escape. She listened for a footascending to her room with a message from Clara demanding an audience.She listened for the peal of the electric bell under Harry's hastyhand--Harry, arrived even at this unwarranted hour with Heaven knew whatrepresentative of law to force the sapphire from her.
But all her household was still unstirring when at last she went, softstep after step, down the broad and polished stair and across the emptyhall. She went quiet, direct, determined, not at all as she had fled onher other perilous enterprise only yesterday. She shut the outer doorafter her without a sound and with great relief breathed in the freshand faintly smoky air of morning.
She walked quickly. The windows of her house still overlooked her, andher greatest terror was that some voice, some appearance, out of thathouse, might command her return. The street was nearly empty. A maidscrubbing down steps looked after her sharply, and she wondered if shehad been recognized. She had no intention of keeping to this street, oreven taking a car and traveling down its broad, gray and gleaming vistaof formal houses and formal gardens that she knew and that knew her sowell. It was a cross-town car bound for quite another locality that sheclimbed aboard. It was filled only with mechanics and workmen with picksand shovels. She sat crowded elbow to elbow among odors of staletobacco, stale garlic, stale perspiration, and looking straight beforeher through the car window watched the aspect of the city, still gray,grow less gleaming and formal and finally quite dirty, and quite, quitedull.
This was all as she had intended, very much in the direction of hererrand, and safe. But in Market Street the car-line ended, and she wasturned out again in this broad artery of commerce where she was indanger of meeting at any moment people she knew. She made straightacross the thoroughfare to its south side, turned down Eighteenth and ina moment was hidden in Mission Street.
Now really the worst danger of detection was over. She saw no reason whya woman with a small hat and a hand-bag should not pass for aschool-teacher. Indeed, the men did let her go at that, but thewomen--women with shawls over their heads, and women with uncoveredheads and ear-rings in their ears, and thin, weak-eyed women with bagsin their hands--the teachers themselves, one of whom she hoped to passfor--all stared at her. It didn't matter much, she thought, whether theythought her queer or not since they couldn't stop her.
She went, glancing at windows as she passed, looking for a place whereshe could go to breakfast. She turned into the first restaurant thatoffered, and after a hasty glance around it to be sure no one lurkedthere that might betray her she subsided into the clatter with relief.It was one more place to let time pass in, for it would be full twohours before she could fulfil her errand. She stayed as long as shedared, drinking two cups of the hideous coffee; stayed while many cameand went, until she felt the proprietor noticing her. That revived herconsciousness of the possible dangers still between her and the end sheheld in view. She had heard of people being arrested for suspiciousconduct. She didn't feel sure in what this might consist, but surelysuch an appearance could be avoided by walking fast and seeming to knowexactly where one was going.
It was ten o'clock in the morning, three hours since she had left herhouse and a most reasonable time of daylight, when Flora turned out ofthe flatness of "south of Market Street" and began to mount aslow-rising hill. It was a wooden sidewalk she followed flanking awood-paved street, and these, with the wooden fences and dusty cypresshedges and the houses peering over them upon her looked worn, batteredand belonging all to the past. None the less it bore traces of havingbeen a dignified past, and farther up on the crown of the hill amongdeep-bosomed trees, two or three large mansions wore the gravelytriumphant aspect of having been brought successfully from a past empireinto a present with all their traditions and mahogany complete. Upwardtoward these Flora was looking. Her breath was short from fastclimbing. Her cheeks under her thin veil were hot and bright.
As she neared the hilltop she glanced at a card from her chatelaine,consulting the address upon it. Then anxiously she scanned thehouse-fronts. It was not this one, nor this; but the square whitemansion she came to now stood so far retired at the end of its lawn thatshe could not make out the number. As she peered a young girl came downthe steps between the dark wings of the cypress hedge, a slim, fair,even-gaited creature dressed for the street and drawing on her gloves.As she passed Flora made sure she had seen her before. There wassomething familiar in the carriage of the girl's head and hands;something also like a pale reflection of another presence. Pale as itwas, it was enough to reassure her that this was the house she wanted.
She ascended the steps beneath the arch of cypress and immediately foundherself entering an atmosphere quieter even than that of the littlestreet below. It was quiet with the quiet of protectedness, as if someone brooding, vigilant care encircled it, defending it against allinroads of violent action and thought. It had been long since any younggirl had carried such a heart of passionate hopes and fears up thismossed path between these peaceful flower-beds.
This appearance of the place began to bring before Flora the fullenormity and impertinence of her errand, but though her heart beat onher side as loud as the brass knocker upon the door, she had no mind forturning back.
A high, cool, darkly gleaming interior, mellow with that precious tintof time which her own house so lacked, received her. And here, as wellas out of doors, all the while she sat waiting she felt that protectedpeace was still the deity of the place. To Flora's eager heart time wasstreaming by, but the tall clock facing her measured it out slowly. Itslongest golden finger had pointed out five minutes before the sweepingof a skirt coming down the hall brought her to her feet.
Mrs. Herrick came in hatless, a honeysuckle leaf caught in her graycrown of hair, geraniums in her hand. Flora had never seen her soinformal and so gay.
"I would have asked you to come out into the garden, except that it's sowet, and there's no place to sit," she said.
Flora apologized. "I knew if I came at this hour I should interrupt you,but really there was no help for it." She glanced down at her satchel."I had to go this morning, and before I went I had to see you about thehouse. I'm going down to look at it and--and to stop a while."
Mrs. Herrick hesitated, deprecated. "But you know Mrs. Britton wasn'tsatisfied with the price I asked."
"Oh," said Flora promptly, "but I shall be perfectly satisfied with it,and I want to take possession at once."
The positive manner in which she waved Clara out of her way brought upin Mrs. Herrick's face a faint flash of surprise; but it was gone in aninstant, supplanted by her questioning puzzled consideration of themain proposition.
"Oh, I hope you haven't come to tell me you want it changed," sheprotested. "You know it's quite absurd in places--quite terrible indeed.It's 1870 straight through, and French at that; but even such whimsacquire a dignity if they've been long cherished. You couldn't put in ortake out one thing without spoiling the whole character."
"But I don't want to change it, I want it just as it is," Floraexplained. "It isn't about the house itself I've come, it's about goingdown there. You see there are--some people, some friends of mine. Ihaven't promised them to show the house, but I have quite promisedmyself to show it to them, and they are only here for a few days more.They are going immediately." She was looking at Mrs. Herrick all thewhile she was telling her wretched lie, and now she even managed tosmile at her. "I thought how lovely it would be if you could go therewith
me. I should like so very much to be in it first with you, to haveyou go over it with me and tell me how to take care of it, as it'salways been done. I should hate to do it any disrespect."
Her hostess smiled with ready answer. "Of course I will go down. Ishould be glad, but it must be in a day or two. Indeed, perhaps it wouldbe better for you to have your people first, and I can come down, sayMonday afternoon or Tuesday."
Flora faced this unexpected turn of the matter a little blankly. "Ah,but the trouble is I can't go down alone."
It was Mrs. Herrick's turn to look blank. "But Mrs. Britton?"
"Mrs. Britton isn't going with me; she can't."
"I see." Mrs. Herrick with a long, soft scrutiny seemed to be taking inmore than Flora's mere words represented. "And you wouldn't put it offuntil she can?"
"I couldn't put it off a moment," Flora ended with a little breathlesslaugh. "I do so wish you would come down with me this morning, for Imust go, and you see I can't go alone."
Mrs. Herrick, sitting there, composed, in her cool, flowing, white andviolet gown with the red flowers in her lap, still looked at Florainquiringly. "But aren't there some women in your party old enough tomake it possible and young enough to take pleasure in it?"
Flora shook her head. "Oh, no," she said. Her house of cards wastottering. She could not keep up her brave smiling. She knew herdistress must be plain. Indeed, as she looked at Mrs. Herrick she sawthe effect of it. Gaiety still looked at her out of that face, but thewarmth, the spontaneity were gone; and the steady eyes, if anything soaloof could be suspicious, surely suspected her.
Her heart sank. If only she had told the truth--even so much of it as tosay there was something she could not tell. What she had said wasunworthy not only of herself but of the end she was so desperatelyholding out for. Now in the lucid gaze confronting her she knew all herintentions were taking on a dubious color, stained false, like herwords, under the dark cloud of her own misrepresentation. Yet they werenot false, she knew. Her motives, the end she was struggling for, wereas austere as truth itself. She could not give up without one boldstroke to clear them of this accusation.
"Do you think there's anything queer about it?" she faltered.
"Queer?" To Flora's ears that sounded the coldest word she had everheard. "I hardly think I understand what you mean."
"I mean is it that you think there's more in what I'm asking of you thanI have said?" The two looked at each other and before that flat questionMrs. Herrick drew back a little in her chair.
"I have no right to think about it at all," she said.
"Well, there is," Flora insisted. "There's a great deal more. I amsorry. I should have told you, but I was afraid. I don't know why I wasafraid of you, except that in this matter I've grown afraid of everyone. It's true that there may be people going down--at least, a person.But it isn't, as I let you think it, a house party at all. It's forsomething, something that I can't do any other way--something," she hada sudden flash of insight, "that, if I could tell you, you would believein, too."
Mrs. Herrick's look had faded to a mere concentrated attention. "Youmean that there is something you wish to do for whoever is going down?"
"Oh, something I must do," Flora insisted.
Mrs. Herrick considered a moment. "Why can't he do it for himself?" shethrew out suddenly.
It made Flora start, but she met it gallantly. "Because he won't. Ishall have to make him."
"You!" For a moment Flora knew that she was preposterous in Mrs.Herrick's eyes--and then that she was pathetic. Her companion waslooking at her with a sad sort of humor. "My dear, are you sure thatthat is your responsibility?"
Flora's answering smile was faint. "It seems as strange to me as itseems absurd to you, but I think I have done something already."
"Are you sure, or has he only let you think so? We have all at some timelonged, or even thought it was our duty, to adjust something when itwould have been safer to have kept our hand off," Mrs. Herrick went ongently.
"Oh, safer," Flora breathed. "Oh, yes; indeed, I know. But if somethinghad been put into your hands without your choice; if all the life ofsome one that you cared about depended on you, would you think of being_safe_?" Flora, leaning forward, chin in hand, with shining eyes, seemedfairly to impart a reflection of her own passionate concentration to thewoman before her.
Mrs. Herrick, so calm in her reposeful attitude, calm as the oldportrait on the wall behind her, none the less began to show a curioussparkle of excitement in her face. "If I were sure that person's life_did_ depend on me," she measured out her words deliberately. "But thatso seldom happens, and it is so hard to tell."
"But if you were sure, sure, sure!" Flora rang it out certainly.
Mrs. Herrick in her turn leaned forward. "Ah, even then it would dependon him. And do you think you can make a man do otherwise than hisnature?"
"You think I should fail?" Flora took it up fearlessly. "Well, if I do,at least I shall have done my best. I shall have to have done my best orI can never forgive myself."
"I see," Mrs. Herrick sighed. "But it sounds to me a risk too great forany reward that could come of its success." She thought. "If you couldtell me more." Then, as Flora only looked at her wistfully and silently:"Isn't there some one you can confide in? Not Mrs. Britton?"
"Clara? Oh, no; never!" Flora startled Mrs. Herrick with the passionaterepudiation.
"But could not Mr. Cressy--" and with that broken sentence severalthings that Mrs. Herrick had been keeping back looked out of her face.
Flora answered with a stare of misery. "I know what you must bethinking--what you can not help thinking," she said, "that the wholething is unheard-of--outrageous--especially for a girl so soon to--tobe--" She caught her breath with a sob, for the words she could notspeak. "But there is nothing in this disloyal to my engagement, eventhough I can not speak of it to Harry Cressy; and nothing I hope to gainfor myself by what I am trying to do. If I succeed it will only mean Ishall never see him--the other one--again."
Mrs. Herrick rose, in her turn beseeching. "Oh, I can't help you go intoit! It is too dubious. My dear, I know so much better than you what theend may mean."
"I know what the end may mean, and I can't keep out of it."
"But I can not go with you." There was a stern note in Mrs. Herrick'svoice.
Flora looked around the room, the sunny windows, the still shadows, thetall, monotonous clock, as if this were the last glimpse of peace andprotection she would ever have. She rose and put out her hand.
"I'm afraid I didn't quite realize how much I was asking of you. Youhave been very good even to listen to me. It's right, I suppose, that Ishould go alone."
Mrs. Herrick looked at her in dismay. "But that is impossible!" Then, asFlora turned away, she kept her hand. "Think, think," she urged, "howyou will be misunderstood."
"Oh, I shall have to bear that--from the people who don't know."
"Yes, and even from the one for whom you are spending yourself!"
Flora gave her head a quick shake. "He understands," she said.
"My dear, he is not worth it."
Flora turned on her with anger. "You don't know what he is worth to me!"
Mrs. Herrick looked steadily at this unanswerable argument. Her hold onFlora's hand relaxed, but she did not quite release it. Her brows drewtogether. "You are quite sure you must go?"
Flora nodded. She was speechless.
"Did Mrs. Britton know you were coming to me?"
"No. She doesn't even know that I am going out of town. She must not,"Flora protested.
"Indeed she must. You must not place yourself in such a false position.Write her and tell her you are going to San Mateo with me."
"Oh, if you would!" Tears sprang to Flora's eyes. "But will you, even ifI can't tell you anything?"
"I shall not ask you anything. Now write her immediately. You can do ithere while I am getting ready."
She had taken authoritative command of the details of their expedition,and Flora willi
ngly obeyed her. She was still trembling from the stressof their interview, and she blinked back tears before she was able tosee what she was writing.
It had all been brought about more quickly and completely than she hadhoped, but it was in her mind all the while she indited her message toClara, that Kerr, for whom it had been accomplished, was not yetinformed of the existence of the scheme, or the part of guest he was toplay. Yet she was sure that if she asked he would be promptly there. Shewrote to him briefly:
At San Mateo, at the Herricks'. I want you there to-night. I have made up my mind.
As she was sealing it she started at a step approaching in the hall. Shehad wanted to conceal that betraying letter before Mrs. Herrick cameback. She glanced quickly behind her, and saw standing between thehalf-open folding doors, the slim figure of a girl--slimmer, youngereven than the one who had passed her at the gate, but like her, with thesame large eyes, the same small indeterminate chin. Just at the chin thelikeness to Mrs. Herrick failed with the strength of her lastgeneration--but the eyes were perfect; and they gazed at Florawondering. With the sixth sense of youth they recognized the enactmentof something strange and thrilling.
Another instant and Mrs. Herrick's presence dawned behind herdaughter--and her voice--"Why, child, what are you doing there?"--andher hands seemed apprehensive in their haste to hurry the child away, asif, truly, in this drawing-room, for the first time, something wasdangerous.
The Coast of Chance Page 20
