Читать книгу The Man Between: An International Romance - Barr Amelia E. - Страница 4

“WHAT do you think of the evening, Aunt Ruth?” Ethel was in her aunt’s room, comfortably wrapped in a pink kimono, when she asked this question.

“What do you think of it, Ethel?”

“I am not sure.”

“The dinner was well served.”

“Yes. Who was the little dark man you talked with, aunt?”

“He was a Mr. Marriot, a banker, and a friend of Bryce Denning’s. He is a fresh addition to society, I think. He had the word ‘gold’ always on his lips; and he believes in it as good men believe in God. The general conversation annoyed him; he could not understand men being entertained by it.”

“They were, though, for once Jamie Sayer forgot to talk about his pictures.”

“Is that the name of your escort?”

“Yes.”

“And is he an artist?”

“A second-rate one. He is painting Dora’s picture, and is a great favorite of Mrs. Denning’s.”

“A strange, wild-looking man. When I saw him first he was lying, dislocated, over his ottoman rather than sitting on it.”

“Oh, that is a part of his affectations. He is really a childish, self-conscious creature, with a very decided dash of vulgarity. He only tries to look strange and wild, and he would be delighted if he knew you had thought him so.”

“I was glad to see Claudine Jeffrys. How slim and graceful she is! And, pray, who is that Miss Ullman?”

“A very rich woman. She has Bryce under consideration. Many other men have been in the same position, for she is sure they all want her money and not her. Perhaps she is right. I saw you talking to her, aunt.”

“For a short time. I did not enjoy her company. She is so mercilessly realistic, she takes all the color out of life. Everything about her, even her speech, is sharp-lined as the edge of a knife. She could make Bryce’s life very miserable.”

“Perhaps it might turn out the other way. Bryce Denning has capacities in the same line. How far apart, how far above every man there, stood Basil Stanhope!”

“He is strikingly handsome and graceful, and I am sure that his luminous serenity does not arise from apathy. I should say he was a man of very strong and tender feelings.”

“And he gives all the strength and tenderness of his feelings to Dora. Men are strange creatures.”

“Who directed Dora’s dress this evening?”

“Herself or her maid. I had nothing to do with it. The effect was stunning.”

“Fred thought so. In fact, Fred Hostyn–”

“Fell in love with her.”

“Exactly. ‘Fell,’ that is the word—fell prostrate. Usually the lover of to-day walks very timidly and carefully into the condition, step by step, and calculating every step before he takes it. Fred plunged headlong into the whirling vortex. I am very sorry. It is a catastrophe.”

“I never witnessed the accident before. I have heard of men getting wounds and falls, and developing new faculties in consequence, but we saw the phenomenon take place this evening.”

“Love, if it be love, is known in a moment. Man who never saw the sun before would know it was the sun. In Fred’s case it was an instantaneous, impetuous passion, flaming up at the sight of such unexpected beauty—a passion that will probably fade as rapidly as it rose.”

“Fred is not that kind of a man, aunt. He does not like every one and everything, but whoever or whatever he does like becomes a lasting part of his life. Even the old chairs and tables at Mostyn are held as sacred objects by him, though I have no doubt an American girl would trundle them off to the garret. It is the same with the people. He actually regards the Rawdons as belonging in some way to the Mostyns; and I do not believe he has ever been in love before.”

“Nonsense!”

“He was so surprised by the attack. If it had been the tenth or twentieth time he would have taken it more philosophically; besides, if he had ever loved any woman, he would have gone on loving her, and we should have known all about her perfections by this time.”

“Dora is nearly a married woman, and Mostyn knows it.”

“Nearly may make all the difference. When Dora is married he will be compelled to accept the inevitable and make the best of it.”

“When Dora is married he will idealize her, and assure himself that her marriage is the tragedy of both their lives.”

“Dora will give him no reason to suppose such a thing. I am sure she will not. She is too much in love with Mr. Stanhope to notice any other lover.”

“You are mistaken, Ethel. Swiftly as Fred was vanquished she noticed it, and many times—once even while leaning on Mr. Stanhope’s arm—she turned the arrow in the heart wound with sweet little glances and smiles, and pretty appeals to the blind adoration of her new lover. It was, to me, a humiliating spectacle. How could she do it?”

“I am sure Dora meant no wrong. It is so natural for a lovely girl to show off a little. She will marry and forget Fred Mostyn lives.”

“And Fred will forget?”

“Fred will not forget.”

“Then I shall be very sorry for your father and grandmother.”

“What have they to do with Fred marrying?”

“A great deal. Fred has been so familiar and homely the last two or three weeks, that they have come to look upon him as a future member of the family. It has been ‘Cousin Ethel’ and ‘Aunt Ruth’ and even ‘grandmother’ and ‘Cousin Fred,’ and no objections have been made to the use of such personal terms. I think your father hopes for a closer tie between you and Fred Mostyn than cousinship.”

“Whatever might have been is over. Do you imagine I could consent to be the secondary deity, to come after Dora—Dora of all the girls I have ever known? The idea is an insult to my heart and my intelligence. Nothing on earth could make me submit to such an indignity.”

“I do not suppose, Ethel, that any wife is the first object of her husband’s love.”

“At least they tell her she is so, swear it an inch deep; and no woman is fool enough to look beyond that oath, but when she is sure that she is a second best! AH! That is not a position I will ever take in any man’s heart knowingly.”

“Of course, Fred Mostyn will have to marry.”

“Of course, he will make a duty of the event. The line of Mostyns must be continued. England might go to ruin if the Mostyns perished off the English earth; but, Aunt Ruth, I count myself worthy of a better fate than to become a mere branch in the genealogical tree of the Mostyns. And that is all Fred Mostyn’s wife will ever be to him, unless he marries Dora.”

“But that very supposition implies tragedy, and it is most unlikely.”

“Yes, for Dora is a good little thing. She has never been familiar with vice. She has even a horror of poor women divorced from impossible husbands. She believes her marriage will be watched by the angels, and recorded in heaven. Basil has instructed her to regard marriage as a holy sacrament, and I am sure he does the same.”

“Then why should we forecast evil to their names? As for Cousin Fred, I dare say he is comfortably asleep.”

“I am sure he is not. I believe he is smoking and calling himself names for not having come to New York last May, when father first invited him. Had he done so things might have been different.”

“Yes, they might. When Good Fortune calls, and the called ‘will not when they may,’ then, ‘when they will’ Good Fortune has become Misfortune. Welcome a pleasure or a gain at once, or don’t answer it at all. It was on this rock, Ethel, the bark that carried my love went to pieces. I know; yes, I know!”

“My dear aunt!”

“It is all right now, dear; but things might have been that are not. As to Dora, I think she may be trusted with Basil Stanhope. He is one of the best and handsomest men I ever saw, and he has now rights in Dora’s love no one can tamper with. Mostyn is an honorable man.”

“All right, but—

and then, aunt, what then?”