Читать книгу The Daughter of the House - Carolyn Wells - Страница 5

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THE WHOLE OF the Westchester area boasted few larger estates than Langdene, and its wide expanse of field and woodland gave room for two or three pleasant cottages that in no wise hindered or intruded upon the seclusion and privacy of the main house.

The prettiest of these cottages was Willow Dell, a cozy little nest, on the bank of a small stream edged with drooping weeping-willows.

Mary called the place Willow Willow Waly, but the present occupant amended it to Willow Dell.

It was situated at the other end of the Long Gardens and so was of very easy access from the Lang home.

These long gardens were each about twenty feet wide, and with a path between extended straightaway for a long distance from the south porches. The vista was bewilderingly beautiful, beginning as it did with low-growing flowers which gave way to higher and higher plants until it ended far away with tall blossoming shrubs.

The straight path led to the brook, and a rustic bridge spanned the babbling, stony-bedded little stream.

The tenant of Willow Dell was usually persona grata with the Langs and so the bridge was handy and useful.

But a recent change had been made and the new incumbent, Mrs. Castro was a bit of a mystery, or at least, an unknown quantity.

In appearance she was slim, dark and daring. She affected black gowns with a splash of red, or yellow with a touch of black. But she was possessed of that particular quality which is called charm, and which, in its stronger moments becomes fascination, and, on occasion, diablerie.

She defied modern fashions, and wore her sleek, black hair in shining bands. Her costumes showed an Egyptian influence and her jewelry was both bizarre and barbaric.

Yet Giulia Castro was not loud or self-assertive. On the contrary, she was exclusive and retiring. She was wont to show a seeming diffidence that might have been shyness, but was, more likely, a clever simulation of it.

The uncertainty one felt, in her presence, as to when she was sincere and when mocking, lent a glamorous yet absorbing interest to her every word and deed.

Her instincts and intuitions were so quick and so true, that she gained a reputation for clairvoyance. This, however, she did not possess, making her natural shrewdness and experience serve her quite as well.

Mr. Alexander Lang was calling upon her.

She had made him most comfortable on her vine clad little porch, and ensconced in a long wicker steamer chair, with smokes and drinks at his elbow, he idly watched his hostess as she sat near and talked to him.

“I’ve come to lecture you,” he observed suddenly and apropos of nothing.

“Yes,” she said, an amused smile curving her red lips.

“Yes. And I daresay you know what about.”

“I know everything. It is about young Carr.”

“Correct. Now, look here—you’re not to butcher that pretty little love affair to make a Roman holiday.”

“Me being the Roman?”

“Yes, you being the Roman.”

“What about Forry? He does his full share of the butchering.”

“No, he doesn’t. At least, he wouldn’t, if you didn’t egg him on.”

“I egg him on! Why, Mr. Lang, I never egged a man on in my life—I never had to. They always egg themselves.”

“Yes, I know, but you whisk the egg-beater. Oh, don’t try to fool me, I know you, heart and soul—and that’s why I want you to marry me.”

“You’re so ambiguous. Do you mean you want me to marry you so I won’t fascinate Mary’s young man away from her?”

“Well, I do mean that—but it’s one word for him and two for myself.”

“H’m—I see. And what about me?”

“You’re the king pin—the queen bee. What you say, goes. Now, Giulia mia, play pretty and say you’ll marry me, and then I’ll tell you how much I love you.”

“You’re original. Most men tell me that before they ask the question.”

“I’m not most men. I’m a law unto myself. So say yes, and get that part over.”

“It’s a woman’s privilege to dally a bit. Let me think it over. This is about the fourth time you’ve proposed to me. How many more times have you set yourself?”

“Not many.” Alex shook his head. “I only planned for three, at the outside. But I’ve extended it to four, and—well, it may be your last chance.”

“In the absence of father or brother or guardian, I feel I am justified in asking a few questions. What approximately, is your annual income? This may sound mercenary, as indeed it is, but I am my only advisory board, and so I have to find out things for myself.”

“You’re welcome to the knowledge. As a matter of fact, I’ve only what David chooses to give me. But, I may add, it can be called a living wage.”

“Is it definitely arranged? Is it permanent?”

“It will be made so, if you consent to become my wife. Otherwise, I’ve no reason for raising the subject with my brother.”

“No, I suppose not. Do you know, this is a strange wooing.”

“This isn’t the wooing o’t. Just give me a word of promise, and I’ll woo like a nightingale. I’ll roar you as gently as any sucking dove.”

“There’s only one thing about you I really like, that’s your unshakable savoir faire. Few men could make your proposition—it’s scarcely a proposal—”

“Few men are at all like me. I’m nearly a unique specimen. Oh, Giulia take me—for better, for worse—I assure you it will be for better. For richer, for poorer—I promise you it shall be for richer. You are very beautiful, we are congenial, we shall be happy together. Come dear, say yes—” Alex Lang scarcely looked his forty-eight years as he threw his whole soul into the pleading of his cause. He was deeply in love with the lovely widow, but he hoped to appeal to her by his unusual way of asking. He knew that she was besieged by suitors, and he felt that cleverness might win out against the offers of younger men.

Moreover, he felt sure she was not at all in love with Forrester Carr, and that her flirtation with him was merely a roguish trick to irritate Mary.

Not that Giulia was cattish or mean, but she was a woman to whom men’s attentions were as the breath of life, and even an engaged man, like Forry Carr, was not rebuffed if he made a few careless advances.

“Dear Alex,” she began, speaking slowly, “I am fond of you—but—”

She ceased speaking, her eyes fixed on a faraway hill, and her lovely mouth quivering a little.

“But what, dear?” he prompted, softly.

“There are only two things I ask of this world,” she resumed, still speaking slowly and thoughtfully. “They are life and love.”

“What more can any one want?” Lang said, understandingly.

“Yes, but I want them both to the extreme—to the limit—”

“So do I.”

“And to me love means devotion, adoration, tenderness, passion—” Again the silence and the faraway gaze.

“All those I will give you in full measure, pressed down and running over.”

“Yes—I know it. And life—Alex, do you know what I mean by life?”

“What?”

“Luxury, extravagance, beautiful things in abundance, houses, travel, all the things that money can buy.”

“Mercenary wretch!’”

“I know it—though I don’t know why mercenary people are always called wretches. However, it’s the truth. All my life I have wanted luxury—Sybaritic luxury. I am happy and content in this tiny home, because I have to be, but I want to blossom out, to find myself, my real self, in the surroundings that I crave and that only wealth can give me. Yet wealth with a man I do not love has no appeal for me. I want life and love—the kind of life and the kind of love that I have described.”

“Good Lord, Giulia, I wish I had David’s millions. They do him no good, and with them I could buy you.”

“Do him no good? He is not a miser. He spends freely and for beautiful things.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t spend a quarter of his income. Eleanor’s tastes are modest, and Mary is too young to want much. David’s collecting hobbies are not of an extravagant sort—not like pictures or jewels—and so, most of his fortune just lies quiet and gathers fat.”

“Oh,” she sighed gently. “Things are not fairly distributed in this world.”

“No; David ought to give me half his wealth. He would never miss it. It will be mine at his death—”

“Really, has he left you half?”

“Not half, but a third. His wife and daughter and myself are his only heirs, except for some minor bequests.”

“Then, he surely ought to be willing to settle a good part of that money on you at once. Would he do so, do you suppose?”

“I doubt it. Yet, he might. He’s an impulsive sort, and if I asked him at the right moment, I’m not sure he wouldn’t do just that. And then—Giulia—”

“Then—we’d see about it.”

“And meantime, you’ll give me a crumb—a word to live upon. Tell me you will love me—if, when and as I receive a third of my brother’s fortune.”

The whimsical note in his voice took away the sting of the mercenary words and his reward was a long glance from the dark eyes that seemed to promise any and all things the heart of man could desire.

“When you are married, Alex dear,” she said, “your wife will adore you.”

“But I never shall marry, unless I marry you,” he returned.

“Yes, I know that,” she said quietly, and a slow, dawning smile gave her words force and color.

Impulsively Alex grasped her hand and drew her to him.

“Oh, no no no,” she laughed. “We’re not engaged yet—and I’m a fearful prude!”

“Your eyes belie your tongue,” he murmured. “Oh, damn—here are the children!”

Forrester Carr and Mary came across the bridge and neared the porch steps.

“Are you having tea?” Mary sang out. “Dad and mother are away, and I told Hattie we’d pick up a cup over here.”

“Surely,” said Mrs. Castro, and touched a bell nearby, as the two young people came up and looked about for the best seats. “What have you been doing?”

“Tennis, and the courts are like a fiery furnace. Make it iced tea, will you?”

This from Carr as he ensconced Mary in the low chair, and himself, appropriated a rattan couch. His lingering glance remained on the face of his hostess with an admiration not lost on Mary Lang.

“I say, how restful and cool you look,” he exclaimed, noting the soft lingerie gown with a few tiny frills.

“Why not—sitting quietly in the shade? How you can chase about a tennis court on a day like this, I can’t see.”

“Nor I,” said Alex. “But you’re both so ridiculously young—”

“Hold hard, Uncle Alex,” cried Forry, who adopted the prospective relationship, “you don’t class Giulia with yourself against us, do you?”

“I don’t propose to class myself alone, if I can help it, if Giulia objects to being classed with me, I’ll just—class myself with her.”

“Of course you will,” and Giulia’s smile and tone made Carr look up sharply.

“Fixed it up, you two, have you?” he asked, impertinently, but his eyes sought Giulia’s with an anxious look.

“Don’t ask rude questions,” she returned, “or you will get no tea.”

“Yes, I will, I’ll help myself,” and then, the tea things having arrived, Forry made himself useful, and he and his hostess dispensed food and drink.

After which, he took a low bench by her side and conversed with her in undertones.

Giulia, the situation thoroughly in hand, enjoyed herself immensely.

She would say a few words low to Forry, which would bring a smile or a frown to his handsome, boyish face, and then quickly turn to the others and talk to them with deepest interest.

Mary could put her finger on no tangible breach of etiquette or even unkind intent, but she knew Giulia was tormenting her on purpose, and she blamed her for it all, and Forry not a bit.

Alex Lang, seeing through the whole thing was not annoyed for himself, but he thought the older woman ought to spare the girl. Her flattering attitude toward Carr meant just nothing at all, but Forry was caught by it, and Mary was miserable.

The girl was not at her best, for the warm weather and the vigorous tennis game had left her a bit rumpled, both in dress and temper.

And the contrast of the calm, cool, immaculate hostess did not make her more at ease.

Mary was a chameleonic little piece, and quickly reflected the mood of those about her.

She sensed the fact that Mrs. Castro was merely amusing herself, but not having the requisite nerve or wit to come back at her, Mary suffered in silence, laying up hatred in her heart.

Finishing her tea, she declared she must be going home, and told Forrester she would run back alone, as there was no need for him to go with her.

“All right,” Forry returned, most unexpectedly to his fiancée, and perforce the girl started off.

But Alex felt sorry for her, and called out, cheerily, “Wait, Puss, I’m going along.”

He made brief adieus and stalked away with Mary, leaving Forry Carr in full possession of the field.

“What is the matter with that boy?” he exclaimed, as soon as they had passed beyond earshot. “Is he in love with the gay widow?”

“She isn’t gay,” Mary returned, with a sudden burst of perspicuity, “that’s just the trouble. If she were a gay, careless creature, I shouldn’t be afraid of her, but she’s that deep, designing sort, and she winds Forry round her little finger. He can’t help it.”

Mary was on the verge of tears.

“Now, now, Rosemary, dear, you listen to your Uncle Alex. Don’t make the mistake of showing Forry how much you care. Pretend not to notice it. The whole thing is really beneath your notice, and you must ignore it.”

“Ignore it! I should say not! I tell you, Uncle Alex, today is just about the last straw. I supposed of course, when I told Forry he might stay, he would come along with me.”

“Oh, you did, did you? What a little ignoramus you are! Why didn’t you say, ‘Come along, boy, it’s time for us to move on,’ then he would have gone willingly.”

“Do you suppose I would make him come with me—willingly or otherwise? Uncle Alex, I’ve a little pride, I hope! If he is so intrigued by that woman that he’d rather stay and talk with her than to walk home with me—he can stay, that’s all. I’m about through with him, anyway—”

Mary held her head high, but there was a quiver in her voice, and Alex saw a tear roll down her cheek.

“Puss,” he said, suddenly, “would it help matters if the deep designing widow were to marry another man?”

“It would help very materially, Uncle. Why, is there a chance of it?”

“That’s just what there is, a chance of it. At least I gathered from some confidences she reposed in me this afternoon that there is a chance. So, be a good girl, and have patience a little longer. Then, if she gets tied up to someone else, we can get her claws out of Forry’s mane.”

Mary looked up with a smile, she was naturally light hearted and hopeful, and too, she was sure of Carr’s love. Only she feared that a sudden temporary infatuation for the siren might mean trouble, for a time, at least.

She went to her room and Alex sat down to ruminate and to await his brother’s return.

It was late that night before he got a chance to talk to David alone, and then he plunged at once into his subject.

“Davy,” he said, and the elder Lang, who was not dull-witted himself, knew something special portended, and guessed what it was.

“Want a marriage portion?” he said, smiling and Alex was dumfounded.

“What do you mean?” he growled, but his smile broke through his frown.

“You tell me,” David said, and Alex did.

“I’ve never been in love before,” he wound up his story. “And you have, Dave, so you know all about it.”

“I remember my own love affair,” David said, with a tender smile of memory, “but, don’t come the young lover act, Alex, it isn’t fitting. I’m sure you do love Mrs. Castro, and let it go at that. Don’t have transports.”

Alex bit his lips, for transports were what he had relied on to influence his brother’s feelings and enlist his sympathy. Beside, it hurt his pride to have it implied that at his age a love affair must be treated practically and not as a romance.

However, it was no part of his plan to irritate David, so he smiled and tried to turn the situation to his own advantage.

“You’re right. And that’s why I want a plain talk with you. You’ve been a brick, Dave, supporting me all these years, and Lord knows I appreciate it. I should feel ashamed, but you persuaded me long ago that I needn’t do that.”

“Surely not,” David Lang’s voice was hearty. “I told you, Alex, and I meant it, that you were more than welcome to your living. Now—I confess, the possibility of your marriage never occurred to me.”

“Nor to me, until I met Giulia Castro,” Alex said, with a smile of surprise at himself. “But she upset all my preconceived notions of confirmed bachelorhood, and here I am, forty-eight, deeply in love; my love—I have reason to think—returned; and yet, without visible means of support.”

“By whose fault?” said David, slowly.

“Yours!” Alex almost shouted. “You made me an idler, a loafer, a parasite! You taught me to live without work, on a brother’s bounty, and now, I am both sorry and ashamed.”

David stared at him, amazed at this outburst. But after a moment he said, gently, “You’re largely right, Alex. And had I foreseen this contingency, as perhaps I should have done, I would have made you go to work. I daresay it’s too late now—to start earning a livelihood at your age is not feasible. So let’s get down to figures, and see what’s to be done.”

Alex breathed more easily. This was a step in the right direction. Now if he could have his way a bit further, he asked no more of Fate.

“Well, he began, in an easy voice, but with an anxious heart, “you’ve been giving me my home here with you. In a way, I suppose that isn’t like a regular outlay.”

“You bet it isn’t! Why, you’re being here doesn’t make any perceptible difference in the running expenses. You know yourself in a place run as lavishly as Langdene is, one or two or three extra mouths at table don’t count at all.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Clearly, a poor beginning. Not much to hope for in that part of the budget.

“Well, there is my own motor car, and my golf club dues and outfit—”

“Oh, I know. But those personal expenses I’ve always been glad to stand and I shall certainly continue them, if you choose to go away from us.”

“But Dave, that’s the point, I can’t go away I can’t get married unless I have enough to live on.”

“It’s a bit serious, Alex. You see, if your wife was one whom we could welcome here, we could all live together, but—well, Eleanor doesn’t care much for Mrs. Castro, nor does Mary.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t live here! We couldn’t live with anybody.”

“What do you plan then?”

When David Lang chose he could make his voice sound like icicles.

“I’m not planning, Dave. I’m asking you to plan for me. As we agreed, it was your suggestion that I do no work, but live here with you. As we agreed it was not supposed by either of us that I should want to marry. But I do, so there’s the situation.”

“Up to me, I suppose you mean. Well, Alex, I acknowledge it was my doing that you lived without work of any sort, and so, I feel I should help you out now. But it will mean a modest income for you. I will give you the Willow Dell cottage and I will allow you twenty-five thousand a year to live on. There’s my offer, and if I may say so, I feel it is a generous one. I hope you feel so, too.”

“Generous! Twenty-five thousand! When you have the income of twenty millions! Generous!”

Alex gave a short, bitter laugh and stared at his brother.

“Yes, but I earned those millions—”

“Earned them! By sitting in a swivel chair, reading a ticker tape!”

“By knowing how to read the ticker tape! That’s what counted. And that knowledge was built up on hard work and experience.”

“Oh, come now, Davy, don’t be mean. But, I say, a settled income isn’t what I had in mind anyway.”

“Isn’t it? What is?”

“Why—I thought—I hoped that as you have—you have said so, remembered me in your will, I thought that maybe you’d be willing to give me my inheritance now—or—or a good part of it.”

“Oh, you did! Well, Brother Alex, I’m truly sorry to disappoint your hopes, but I don’t propose to do anything of the sort.”

“Why not?”

“There are several very good reasons, which I am in no way bound to tell you; but one is, that there is always the possibility of my investments failing, or of my meeting with unexpected losses, and it might easily be that I may die a poor man.”

“Absurd!”

“Not absurd at all, but even if so, it is my own business. No, sir, I give none of my inheritors his or her bequest until it falls due by reason of my death. So, brother, if you wait to marry until you realize on your inheritance of part of my estate, you wait until after my funeral. See?”

Alex saw. He knew, moreover, that the most moving entreaties, the most piteous pleas would be worse than useless. He knew that David would never depart one iota from the decision he had just announced, and that he, Alex, might take it or leave it.

And though he said not another word on the subject, he felt deeply angry and resentful.