Читать книгу According to the Pattern (Romance Classic) - Grace Livingston Hill - Страница 5

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The days that followed were to her like a long struggle through the darkness of some deep valley by night. When she looked back upon them they were filled with horror. Every time she slept and awoke there was the same awful realization of trouble to be instantly remembered and realized, coming with the keenness of first knowledge during the earliest waking moments, as one remembers death or dread calamity and tries to weave the unaccustomed threads of sorrow into the hitherto happy web of life and make it seem a part of the daily fabric.

She plunged into work with all her soul and body. What was to come she had yet to discover. She felt that now her course lay clear before her, she had but to get out of the way any work that might be a hindrance to the plans when they should be formed. The children’s clothes were first. She had been working at them leisurely for some time, taking pleasure in designing and executing the pretty, dainty garments which should make her children into picturesque little creatures. Now she set about finishing this work with feverish eagerness and conscientiousness. She foresaw that her tender care of these little ones must be interrupted in the future. What had been her duty and her pleasure must now be neglected for a higher, more insistent duty, which could not be delayed.

She put lingering, wistful touches on her work and a world of love and pent-up mother desires. This much she could do before the demand for action came and she would do it better than it had ever been done before. But there was also another reason for the care she put upon the little garments. When she remembered this her face was almost bitter in its stern determination and her fingers flew the faster. She was going out to fight the world, and the world, if she succeeded, would be free to inspect her life, her home, her children, everything she had. These same little chores of theirs would not escape the inspection. They were to be a part of her furnishing for the warfare in which she was to engage. Therefore she worked late and early, and in a surprisingly short time the garments were laid away complete for use.

One of the first things she had done during these days of work had been to write a letter subscribing for the “Fashion Magazine,” to which she had sent her appeal for help. She felt that she simply could not go to a news-stand and buy it. Her shame, her disgrace would be written large upon her face. No, she must make sure to see it if any answer appeared to her letter, but she must see it first in the quiet and seclusion of her own room with locked doors. Whenever, as she went back and forth to the city stores, she saw a copy of that magazine in a window or a notice of it upon a sign-board, she turned her face guiltily away. It was as if the name of it was shouted to her from afar. She dreaded the thought that any one should know to what depths she had descended, actually to have written to a public editor for assistance in her trouble. And yet, and yet in spite of it all and without her own consent, she was building greatly on the answer that should come to her. Would they understand what she wanted? And would they give her any help that she could follow? Or would she have to go blindly all alone? This thought gradually began to stand out clearly in her confused brain as she tried to plan while her fingers were executing wonders with her needle.

A month! And she must be ready for action when her husband returned. It might be he would be delayed longer, but she must be ready. Would the printed help come in time? How long did it take those things to get to headquarters and fall into line with other questions till at last an answer could come?

She watched the mail from week to week. The day of the arrival of the magazine was an anxious one. She shivered when it was put into her hand and tried to go about her household duties calmly, forcing herself to give the cook minute directions sometimes before retiring behind locked doors to scan the pages hastily and then more thoroughly. It must not be suspected that she had more than a passing interest in that magazine.

She read every word from cover to cover to make sure she did not miss her answer, though she knew such answers only appeared in a certain column. Meantime she was gaining much worldly knowledge as she read. There was a certain “shibboleth” spoken in those columns which she foresaw she must make her own if she would be the success she aimed to be. Unconsciously she weighed this and that question in dress, household decoration, manners, and customs. Without her own knowledge she grew to apply these newly acquired rules to her own home and life.

At last one morning she found the initials she had signed to her question staring her in the face.

For one brief instant she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Then her hand fluttered to her heart and she read with nervous rapidity:

Indeed, I have considered the situation carefully, for I know exactly what a complex problem you feel you have to face. But let me reassure you; many and many a wife and mother is in a similar predicament. How can it be otherwise when one has since marriage had little children to take care of and is occupied in the most natural, best of all ways that a woman can be occupied?

Miriam Winthrop caught her breath in a quick, dry sob at this, and then read on:

But I must congratulate you for the conclusion you have reached and your wise, wholesome desire to take up social life again and make a position for yourself and your husband, and, above all, for your children’s future.

Ah, yes, for her children’s future! But not in the way the writer meant.

It seems to me it would be unwise to start out to entertain elaborately even if you have the means for it. No, I should not advise you to give a big general reception, nor big dinners, nor anything of the sort. First of all, it would be inappropriate to entertain so in your small house, for you know there is proportion in everything. But what you could do is to send out cards for four days next month, let us say.

Then followed minute directions for the giving of informal little teas, with details of simple refreshments, decorations, forms, and costumes suggested. Nothing was forgotten, though there were no superfluous words used, from the garb and deportment of the maid who opens the door to directions about the proper garments for her husband to wear. Ah, her husband knew to an exact science how to dress well upon all possible occasions. That one suggestion was unnecessary, and a deep sigh was breathed in her excitement as she read on, more and more convinced that the beginning of the undertaking seemed possible.

There was also a plan of further campaign of dinners and luncheons and a children’s party hinted at, and the writer concluded:

Meanwhile you will probably receive invitations in return which you should accept, wearing pretty, becoming dresses to the entertainments and making as much of yourself as possible. This is every woman’s duty, especially if she is a wife and mother. Try to read up on the subjects which are generally talked of, so that you will be an intelligent companion besides educating yourself, and try to find out what are the interests of the people you want to know. Return your calls regularly. When you have established a position for yourself it will be perfectly permissible for you, when you meet a stranger at a luncheon, or dinner, or any entertainment at the house of a mutual friend, to ask her if you may not call, as you would like to know her better, so gradually you will enlarge your circle without forcing yourself. I should advise you, if you have time, to go into some charitable work; join one of the societies of your church, and do what you can to help others outside of your home. By and by send out cards for a series of days and give during the winter some musicales or readings, if you can afford them. I am very certain you will succeed in your undertakings. It only requires tact and thought for others.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair with another deep sigh as suddenly the appalling magnitude of the work she had undertaken broke over her. She faltered at the thought of the wearisome way she must tread. Would it all pay? Could she do it? Would her strength and her money hold out till she gained her point and won her husband to herself? Was it not worse than useless to try? Might she not better give in at the start and accept the situation? Never!

She sprang to her feet, throwing the magazine down and walking excitedly to and fro, her hot brain fairly reeling under the whirl of plans for sandwiches and dresses and invitations and sundries which should cost but a trifle and yet should hold their own with the best.

And from that moment she went forward and would not think the word defeat. She had a clue to the ways of the great world. It had been given her graciously and clearly. She could understand and obey. She felt in her heart that there would be results. If there was failure, it would be her fault in carrying out instructions; but there should not be failure. She would see to that. Had she not always been able to make or do anything that she had set her heart upon? She recalled with a weary smile how she had patiently sewed white feathers on an old ivory fan frame as a girl, because her dearest wish had been to have a feather fan and her mother had not considered their purse was full enough for such an unnecessary expenditure. There were other things too, small in themselves, but as she looked back upon them and recalled how she had carried her point despite all obstacles, they gave her courage to hope that what she had once done she could do again. Her purpose should be carried out to the end. It was her only hope. Then with a pitiful sob trembling in her throat as she drew another deep breath she unlocked her door and walked forth to begin her herculean task.

Downtown her resolves led her, to the great stores, where were wonders of the world of fashion in plenty. Her money was limited and she must use her wits.

It happened to be a good day for her induction into the science that began in the garden of Eden with a fig leaf. That was a brilliant exhibition of gowns, robes, dresses, frocks, or whatever the fashionable name for the outer covering a woman wears happened to be that week, and the display of more bewildering beauty of texture, color, form and fashion than perhaps had ever been seen in that city before.

She paused before the great glass cases containing these marvels of the dressmakers’ art and began a systematic study, catching her breath at the enormous importance that the world placed upon clothes, and then shutting her eyes to her own stupendous audacity.

She went over all the beautiful display once and then returned to the beginning and began to take notes in minute detail. There was that great exquisite gray costume. There were possibilities in her own gray silk, out of date and somewhat worn. She noted carefully the little touch of elegance given by the vest of latticed gray velvet ribbon, the spaces filled by filmy spider’s webs in silver thread. Being well versed in lace stitches she took courage. That vest which alone gave the costume its distinguishment would be unattainable to most women without a well-filled purse. To her it was quite possible. Her skillful fingers would help her here with little labor. The real outer material of the garment need not be expensive, some light wool with silken threads, and lined with her old gray silk. She drew a sigh of relief and passed on, mentally counting the few dollars that would represent this first dress. There would not be many such for she had but few silk dresses that would even do for lining. There was a black one which might work in, and that was all, unless she sacrificed her wedding gown. She almost blushed to think of its simplicity beside the billows of white satin she at that moment came upon, encrusted with priceless point lace. She passed it by with a mere glance and moved on to another simple looking costume which scarcely seemed to belong to the elaborate collection, and appeared almost to be shrinking behind the card announcing its designer and executor. Mrs. Winthrop read the card. Not for nothing had she studied her fashion magazine. She knew the name of that house in Paris well by this time, and stood in awe before the model of cloth that was representative. She looked from the card back to the gown and began to see detail such as she had read about and until now had not understood. What gladdened her more than anything else was to discover that most of the distinguishing features of these wonderful dresses were bits of needle work which could easily be attained by one who understood embroidery and lace making and all the many little arts and secrets of fancy work of the higher grade as did she. She blessed the days gone by when she had let her happy fingers learn this cunning while she framed wonderful stories of bears and fairies and poppy-garlanded nymphs from the land of sweet dreams for her little ones. Oh, in those days, she had never conceived of the terrible need in which these accomplishments would bring her aid!

But she must not pause to let these thoughts sweep over her and bring that terrible grip of her heart which seemed almost like a piercing dagger. She must control her feelings. She would have need of a heart strong and active for her work. She must not let it break down for lack of self-control. She had heard that great trouble would bring on heart disease. She would not let it come to her. Her will should lay an iron hand upon her feelings and keep her laughing and bright in spite of the shadow that lurked just over her head. She would force her body to perform all the physical part of being glad.

It might be there was something in the mind cure. She had read of such things. She would try it. Not try, she would make it succeed. Steadily on she went around that array again, growing interested as she progressed, putting down in a little note-book, items to be remembered, relating to certain things she might do with old material or with her ability to embroider and sew.

She ignored many showy wax ladies in imported attire as being out of keeping with her needs. There was one sentence in her mentor’s letter she had not forgotten: “for you know there is proportion in everything.” It should never be said of her that she was inappropriately dressed for her position. Everything should be quiet and yet—and yet—cunning planner—she meant to have the distinguished, inimitable something about her clothes that would mark the woman of good taste in the art of dressing well, and give a dim idea of studied plainness which every well-dressed woman knows is purchased at far greater price than the more showy garment. Once she paused beside a lovely creation of point lace whose pattern was faintly outlined in the tiniest possible ruched ribbon of pale pink, like a dream of roses in winter frost, and examined the pattern, while the wax-cheeked bridesmaid who wore it graciously held out a wilderness of pink roses before her unnoticing eyes, and surveyed her staringly from under her thick auburn eyelashes. She studied the lace carefully and wondered if she could achieve its like for the garnishing of one of her gowns with a collar and handkerchief of fine point she possessed, and some of that delicate ribbon work. How effective it would be on black!

Weary at last of the long strain she turned to go back. She would just see that gray suit again to be sure how the white chiffon was arranged under the gray and silver lattice and the exact shade of the canary colored breast knot of soft satin, and then she would go home for that clay. She was too tired to do another thing, and really she had accomplished much. She must have a sample of her own gray silk before she could get the outer material. What a blessing that the gray silk waist fitted her beautifully. All the better that it was plain. It would make a most delightful lining. Of course the skirt must be remodeled but that would not be difficult with a good pattern. She could do the underpart all herself and not have a dressmaker till she was ready for the outside. Ah! perhaps she might even accomplish this one gown alone entirely. She was sure she could do all the particular parts if she gave herself up to it, and that would leave more money to pay for the other things, for the dressmaker would have much to do and she must go to a very good one to have her linings made, and perhaps to a tailor for some things. She must economize all she could.

Thinking which she arrived before the gray gown.

Then from above her, somewhere on another floor of the great store and floating down through the open rotunda, came soft, sweet, swelling music, like angelic voices from afar.

It seemed to come nearer and surround her being and float about her naked soul and bathe her in its restfulness.

In a distant gallery there was some newly invented instrument, by whose mechanism a thousand harps and voices seemed to be set free at once and soar aloft in blended harmony.

The melody was familiar. It had been dear to her when it first came out. She knew the words. Each note spoke to her heart now. It had grown tiresomely familiar during her stay in this part of the world, by the constant grinding of it out by the poor wheezy street pianos and hand-organs, as if a common barnyard fowl should attempt the thrush’s roundelay. But now the song seemed to come to her with new significance.

Last night I lay a sleeping,

There came a dream so fair,

I saw the Holy City

Beside the temple there,

I heard the children singing

And ever as they sang

Methought the voice of angels

From heaven in answer rang,

Jerusalem, Jerusalem.

The burdened woman looking up, startled suddenly from her intricate busy plans for earth, realized almost with a sort of mingled horror and longing that there was another world than this. Would what she did now and here affect her happiness there? Would these poor paltry dresses count? Would her trouble be over ever?

Her throat choked up and she stood leaning against the glass case unheeding the people who passed and looked curiously at her absorbed, listening face.

When the music was over she went home.