Days like this could not go on forever. The seed of their destruction
was in their beginning. Eugene was sad. He used to show his mood at
times and if she asked him what was the matter, would say: "We can't
keep this thing up much longer. It must come to an end soon."
"You're certainly a gloomy philosopher, Genie," she would say,
reproachfully, for she had hopes that it could be made to last a long
while under any circumstances. Eugene had the feeling that no pretence
would escape Angela's psychology. She was too sensitive to his unspoken
moods and feelings. She would come soon, willynilly, and then all this
would be ended. As a matter of fact several things combined to bring
about change and conclusion.
For one thing Mrs. Hibberdell had been more and more impressed with the
fact that Carlotta was not merely content to stay but that once having
come she was fairly determined to remain. She had her own apartment in
the city, ostensibly closed for the summer, for she had protested that
it was too hot to live in town when she first proposed going to
Narragansett. After seeing Eugene she figured out a possible use for it,
though that use was dangerous, for Norman Wilson might return at any
time. Nevertheless, they had been there on occasions--this with the
double effect of deceiving her mother and entertaining Eugene. If she
could remain away from Riverwood a percentage of the time, she argued
with Eugene, it would make her stay less suspicious and would not
jeopardize their joy in companionship. So she did this. At the same time
she could not stay away from Riverwood entirely, for Eugene was there
necessarily morning and evening.
Nevertheless, toward the end of August Mrs. Hibberdell was growing
suspicious. She had seen an automobile entering Central Park once when
Carlotta had phoned her that she had a sick headache and could not come
up. It looked to Mrs. Hibberdell, who had gone down town shopping on the
strength of this ailment and who had phoned Carlotta that she was going
to call at her apartment in the evening, as though Eugene and Carlotta
were in it. Eugene had gone to work that morning, which made it seem
doubtful, but it certainly looked very much like him. Still she did not
feel sure it was he or Carlotta either. When she came to the latter's
apartment Carlotta was there, feeling better, but stating that she had
not been out. Mrs. Hibberdell concluded thoughtfully that she must have
been mistaken.
Her own room was on the third floor, and several times after all had
retired and she had come down to the kitchen or dining room or library
for something, she had heard a peculiar noise as of someone walking
lightly. She thought it was fancy on her part, for invariably when she
reached the second floor all was dark and still. Nevertheless she
wondered whether Eugene and Carlotta could be visiting. Twice, between
breakfast and the time Eugene departed, she thought she heard Eugene and
Carlotta whispering on the second floor, but there was no proof.
Carlotta's readiness to rise for breakfast at six-thirty in order to be
at the same table with Eugene was peculiar, and her giving up
Narragansett for Riverwood was most significant. It remained for one
real discovery to resolve all her suspicions into the substance of fact
and convict Carlotta of being the most conscienceless of deceivers.
It came about in this fashion. One Sunday morning Davis and
Mrs. Hibberdell had decided to go automobiling. Eugene and Carlotta were
invited but had refused, for Carlotta on hearing the discussion several
days before had warned Eugene and planned to have the day for herself
and her lover. She cautioned him to pretend the need of making visits
down town. As for herself she had said she would go, but on the day in
question did not feel well enough. Davis and Mrs. Hibberdell departed,
their destination being Long Island. It was an all day tour. After an
hour their machine broke, however, and after sitting in it two hours
waiting for repairs--long enough to spoil their plans--they came back by
trolley. Eugene had not gone down town. He was not even dressed when the
door opened on the ground floor and Mrs. Hibberdell came in.
"Oh, Carlotta," she called, standing at the foot of the stairs and
expecting Carlotta to appear from her own room or a sort of lounging and
sewing room which occupied the front of the house on the second floor
and where she frequently stayed. Carlotta unfortunately was with Eugene
and the door to this room was commanded from where Mrs. Hibberdell was
standing. She did not dare to answer.
"Oh, Carlotta," called her mother again.
The latter's first thought was to go back in the kitchen and look there,
but on second thoughts she ascended the steps and started for the sewing
room. Carlotta thought she had entered. In an instant she had seized the
opportunity to step into the bath which was next to Eugene's room but
she was scarcely quick enough. Her mother had not gone into the
room--only opened the door and looked in. She did not see Carlotta step
out of Eugene's room, but she did see her entering the bath, in
negligee, and she could scarcely have come from anywhere else. Her own
door which was between Eugene's room and the sewing room was ten feet
away. It did not seem possible that she could have come from there: she
had not had time enough, and anyhow why had she not answered?
The first impulse of Mrs. Hibberdell was to call to her. Her second
thought was to let the ruse seem successful. She was convinced that
Eugene was in his room, and a few moments later a monitory cough on his
part--coughed for a purpose--convinced her.
"Are you in the bath, Carlotta?" she called quietly, after looking into
Carlotta's room.
"Yes," came the reply, easily enough now. "Did your machine break down?"
A few remarks were exchanged through the door and then Mrs. Hibberdell
went to her room. She thought over the situation steadily for it greatly
irritated her. It was not the same as the discovered irregularity of a
trusted and virtuous daughter. Carlotta had not been led astray. She was
a grown woman, married, experienced. In every way she knew as much about
life as her mother--in some respects more. The difference between them
was in ethical standards and the policy that aligns itself with common
sense, decency, self preservation, as against its opposite. Carlotta had
so much to look out for. Her future was in her own hands. Besides,
Eugene's future, his wife's rights and interests, her mother's home, her
mother's standards, were things which she ought to respect--ought to
want to respect. To find her lying as she had been this long time,
pretending indifference, pretending absence, and no doubt associating
with Eugene all the while, was disgusting. She was very angry, not so
much at Eugene, though her respect for him was greatly lowered, artist
though he was, as at Carlotta. She ought to do better. She ought to be
ashamed not to guard herself against a man like Eugene, instead of
luring him on. It was Carlotta's fault, and she determined to reproach
her bitterly and to break up this wretched alliance at once.
There was an intense and bitter quarrel the next morning, for
Mrs. Hibberdell decided to hold her peace until Eugene and Davis should
be out of the house. She wanted to have this out with Carlotta alone,
and the clash came shortly after breakfast when both the others had
left. Carlotta had already warned Eugene that something might happen on
account of this, but under no circumstances was he to admit anything
unless she told him to. The maid was in the kitchen out of ear shot, and
Mrs. Hibberdell and Carlotta were in the library when the opening gun
was fired. In a way Carlotta was prepared, for she fancied her mother
might have seen other things--what or how much she could not guess. She
was not without the dignity of a Circe, for she had been through scenes
like this before. Her own husband had charged her with infidelity more
than once, and she had been threatened with physical violence by him.
Her face was pale but calm.
"Now, Carlotta," observed her mother vigorously, "I saw what was going
on yesterday morning when I came home. You were in Mr. Witla's room with
your clothes off. I saw you come out. Please don't deny it. I saw you
come out. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? How can you treat me that way
after your promise not to do anything out of the way here?"
"You didn't see me come out of his room and I wasn't in there," said
Carlotta brazenly. Her face was pale, but she was giving a fair
imitation of righteous surprise. "Why do you make any such statement as
that?"
"Why, Carlotta Hibberdell, how dare you contradict me; how dare you lie!
You came out of that room. You know you did. You know that you were in
there. You know that I saw you. I should think you would be ashamed of
yourself, slipping about this house like a street girl and your own
mother in it. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Have you no sense of
decency left? Oh, Carlotta, I know you are bad, but why will you come
here to be so? Why couldn't you let this man alone? He was doing well
enough. It's a shame, the thing you have done. It's an outrage.
Mrs. Witla ought to come here and whip you within an inch of your life."
"Oh, how you talk," said Carlotta, irritably. "You make me tired. You
didn't see me. It's the old story--suspicion. You're always full of
suspicion. You didn't see me and I wasn't in there. Why do you start a
fuss for nothing!"
"A fuss! A fuss for nothing--the idea, you evil woman. A fuss for
nothing. How can you talk that way! I can hardly believe my senses. I
can hardly believe you would dare to brazenly face me in this way. I saw
you and now you deny it."
Mrs. Hibberdell had not seen her, but she was convinced that what she
said was true.
Carlotta brazened it out. "You didn't," she insisted.
Mrs. Hibberdell stared. The effrontery of it took her breath away.
"Carlotta," she exclaimed, "I honestly think you are the worst woman in
the world. I can't think of you as my daughter--you are too brazen.
You're the worst because you're calculating. You know what you're doing,
and you are deliberate in your method of doing it. You're evil-minded.
You know exactly what you want and you set out deliberately to get it.
You have done it in this case. You started out to get this man and you
have succeeded in doing it. You have no sense of shame, no pride, no
honesty, no honor, no respect for me or anyone else. You do not love
this man. You know you don't. If you did you would never degrade him and
yourself and me as you have done. You've simply indulged in another vile
relationship because you wanted to, and now when you're caught you
brazen it out. You're evil, Carlotta. You're as low as a woman can be,
even if you are my daughter."
"It isn't true," said Carlotta. "You're just talking to hear yourself
talk."
"It is true and you know it," reproved her mother. "You talk about
Norman. He never did a thing worse in his life than you have done. He
may be a gambler and immoral and inconsiderate and selfish. What are
you? Can you stand there and tell me you're any better? Pah! If you only
had a sense of shame something could be done for you, but you haven't
any. You're just vile, that's all."
"How you talk, ma," she observed, calmly; "how you carry on, and that on
a mere suspicion. You didn't see me. I might have been in there but you
didn't see me and I wasn't. You're making a storm just because you want
to. I like Mr. Witla. I think he's very nice, but I'm not interested in
him and I haven't done anything to harm him. You can turn him out if you
want to. That's none of my affairs. You're simply raging about as usual
without any facts to go upon."
Carlotta stared at her mother, thinking. She was not greatly disturbed.
It was pretty bad, no doubt of that, but she was not thinking so much of
that as of the folly of being found out. Her mother knew for certain,
though she would not admit to her that she knew. Now all this fine
summer romance would end--the pleasant convenience of it, anyhow. Eugene
would be put to the trouble of moving. Her mother might say something
disagreeable to him. Besides, she knew she was better than Norman
because she did not associate with the same evil type of people. She was
not coarse, she was not thick-witted, she was not cruel, she was not a
user of vile language or an expresser of vile ideas, and Norman was at
times. She might lie and she might be calculating, but not to anyone's
disadvantage--she was simply passion driven--boldly so and only toward
love or romance. "Am I evil?" she often asked herself. Her mother said
she was evil. Well, she was in one way; but her mother was angry, that
was all. She did not mean all she said. She would come round. Still
Carlotta did not propose to admit the truth of her mother's charges or
to go through this situation without some argument. There were charges
which her mother was making which were untenable--points which were
inexcusable.
"Carlotta Hibberdell, you're the most brazen creature I ever knew!
You're a terrible liar. How can you stand there and look me in the eye
and say that, when you know that I know? Why lie in addition to
everything else? Oh! Carlotta, the shame of it. If you only had some
sense of honor! How can you lie like that? How can you?"
"I'm not lying," declared Carlotta, "and I wish you would quit fussing.
You didn't see me. You know you didn't. I came out of my room and you
were in the front room. Why do you say you weren't. You didn't see me.
Supposing I am a liar. I'm your daughter. I may be vile. I didn't make
myself so. Certainly I'm not in this instance. Whatever I am I come by
it honestly. My life hasn't been a bed of roses. Why do you start a
silly fight? You haven't a thing to go on except suspicion and now you
want to raise a row. I don't care what you think of me. I'm not guilty
in this case and you can think what you please. You ought to be ashamed
to charge me with something of which you are not sure."
She walked to the window and stared out. Her mother shook her head. Such
effrontery was beyond her. It was like her daughter, though. She took
after her father and herself. Both were self-willed and determined when
aroused. At the same time she was sorry for her girl, for Carlotta was a
capable woman in her way and very much dissatisfied with life.
"I should think you would be ashamed of yourself, Carlotta, whether you
admit it to me or not," she went on. "The truth is the truth and it must
hurt you a little. You were in that room. We won't argue that, though.
You set out deliberately to do this and you have done it. Now what I
have to say is this: You are going back to your apartment today, and
Mr. Witla is going to leave here as quick as he can get a room somewhere
else. You're not going to continue this wretched relationship any longer
if I can help it. I'm going to write to his wife and to Norman too, if I
can't do anything else to break this up. You're going to let this man
alone. You have no right to come between him and Mrs. Witla. It's an
outrage, and no one but a vile, conscienceless woman would do it. I'm
not going to say anything to him now, but he's going to leave here and
so are you. When it's all over you can come back if you want to. I'm
ashamed for you. I'm ashamed for myself. If it hadn't been for my own
feelings and those of Davis, I would have ordered you both out of the
house yesterday and you know it. It's consideration for myself that's
made me smooth it over as much as I have. He, the vile thing, after all
the courtesy I have shown him. Still I don't blame him as much as I do
you, for he would never have looked at you if you hadn't made him. My
own daughter! My own house! Tch! Tch! Tch!"
There was more conversation--that fulgurous, coruscating reiteration of
charges. Eugene was no good. Carlotta was vile. Mrs. Hibberdell wouldn't
have believed it possible if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. She
was going to tell Norman if Carlotta didn't reform--over and over, one
threat after another.
"Well," she said, finally, "you're going to get your things ready and go
into the city this afternoon. I'm not going to have you here another
day."
"No I'm not," said Carlotta boldly, pondering over all that had been
said. It was a terrible ordeal, but she would not go today. "I'm going
in the morning. I'm not going to pack that fast. It's too late. I'm not
going to be ordered out of here like a servant."
Her mother groaned, but she gave in. Carlotta could not be made to do
anything she did not want to do. She went to her room, and presently
Mrs. Hibberdell heard her singing. She shook her head. Such a
personality. No wonder Eugene succumbed to her blandishments. What man
wouldn't?