"Mrs. Travers! Mr. Brown! Mr. Travers! Mr. Brown!"
The hotel pages, smart-looking in their tight-fitting uniforms with
gold braid and buttons, hurried here and there, scurrying through the
lobbies and drawing-rooms, calling out the names of guests who were
wanted.
It was five o'clock and the bustle at the hotel was at its height.
Guests were constantly arriving from train and steamer; others were
departing, tipping their way out royally. Porters, their backs bent
under the weight of heavy baggage, and waiters, their trays heaped up
with silver dishes, pushed unceremoniously through the crowd. Women,
fashionably gowned, were promenading the halls, or sipping tea in the
palm garden; others sat in little groups watching the animated scene.
Men of all conditions--preachers, actors, politicians, gamblers--stood
in the lobbies, chatting and smoking, blocking the way so that it was
almost impossible to pass. From the open doors of the brilliantly
illuminated café came the noise and laughter of popping corks, the
metallic ring of money, and the sound of men's voices in dispute. In
another corner was heard the click of telegraph instruments and the
industrious, perpetual rattle of typewriters. At the front entrance a
doorman, resplendent in gold lace, was having a heated altercation
with an obstreperous cabman. The desk was literally besieged by a
pushing, unmannerly mob of persons, each of whom wanted to be waited
on before the other, while haughty clerks, moving about with languid
grace, tried to satisfy requests of every conceivable kind. There was
nothing extraordinary in this apparent commotion. It suggested
pandemonium; it was really only a rather dull and uneventful day in
the ordinary routine of a big metropolitan hotel.
Virginia sat back in her chair and stretched herself. Every bone in
her body ached. She had worked steadily since 8 o'clock that morning,
with only a brief respite for lunch, and the fatigue was beginning to
tell upon her. Formerly she could have done twice as much without
feeling it, but since her marriage she had gotten out of the way of
it. Her muscles were stiff; her recent luxurious mode of living had
unfitted her for the strenuous life she used to lead. She had regained
her independence, but it had not been without a bitter struggle.
It was a great shock to Fanny when her sister walked in on her that
afternoon now some three months ago and quietly told her that she had
left Robert for good. At first the elder sister laughed, not believing
it, and then, when she saw by Virginia's face that it was only too
true, she broke down and cried. They fell into each others' arms and
wept together, just as they had done many times before when they were
children.
When they were somewhat calmer she had told Fanny everything, keeping
nothing from her, and declaring her intention to go back to the hotel,
if she could get the position, and earn her own livelihood again.
Seeing that it was useless, Fanny did not attempt to dissuade her. On
the contrary, now she was acquainted with all the facts in the case,
she was indignant herself and gave her sister credit for displaying so
much spirit. Of course, it meant a serious pecuniary loss to them all.
Jimmie could not possibly remain in his position, in view of this
rupture; he would resign his lucrative job and they would be compelled
to go back to the days when they struggled along on fourteen dollars a
week. It was hard, but better that, she told Virginia with an
affectionate hug, than that millionaires should go around thinking
they could buy and sell women like so many cattle.
So everything was quickly settled. Virginia, of course, would live
henceforth with them. She applied for her old position at the hotel,
and after some delay secured it. This was a great relief to her, for
she would never have consented to being a burden on her sister and it
assured her a competence as long as she chose to stay.
Jimmie, much to his disgust, handed in his resignation, which was
accepted more promptly than he had secretly hoped, the flat in One
Hundred and Fortieth street was given up and the Gillies moved into
one a little less pretentious, but more in keeping with their
curtailed income. A job of some kind to keep the kettle boiling was
very necessary, so Jimmie reluctantly applied for his old job and
became once more a $14 a week shipping clerk. This however was a
temporary makeshift, he protested. He was chock full of good ideas,
and now he was rid of Stafford, who he claimed, had really paralyzed
his efforts, he would be able to give free rein to his inventive
genius. Fanny listened patiently. By this time she had few illusions
left concerning her husband's chances of success in life. All she
asked was that they should get along respectably and happily.
So the time had passed. It was now three months since Virginia had
left her husband, and in all that time she had made no attempt to
communicate with him. She had no desire to do so. If, sometimes, she
had a secret yearning, if she sometimes hoped that he would miss her
and come and fetch her back, she stifled it instantly. The very fact
that he had made no attempt to come after her, showed plainly enough
that he had never really cared for her. She thanked God that they had
had no children. At least she was spared the torture of having brought
unhappiness on innocent heads. At times she saw his name mentioned in
the newspapers, and she smiled bitterly when she read accounts of
sensational supper parties, scandalous proceedings which had attracted
the attention of the public in which he had figured prominently. That
was the kind of life he liked, the only kind he knew. How could she
ever have dreamed that he was a man who would make her a good husband?
"Mr. Brown! Mr. Robinson! Mr. Brown! Mr. Robinson!"
The monotonous, shrill voices of the pages as they wearily made their
rounds calling out the names of invisible guests, the orders of clerks
and doormen, the chattering and laughing of the people as they passed
and re-passed up and down the corridors made a perfect babel of
conflicting sound. The afternoon was now well advanced. The crowds had
begun to dispense. There was more breathing space in the passages. For
the time being the rush was over and Virginia sat back in her chair,
glad of a moment's respite after the busy day. She saw nothing and
heard nothing of the commotion all around her. The noise and the
crowds in the hotel lobby did not exist for her. Her thoughts, in
spite of herself, were far away, with the man who before God's altar
had solemnly promised to shield and protect her, and then permitted
her to go out alone in the cold, unsympathetic world to earn her own
living as best she could, without even making an effort to find how or
where she was. With all his faults, she had always thought Robert
kind-hearted. Why, then, should he have treated her in this cruel,
heartless, indifferent manner? A man's voice suddenly aroused her from
her words. In a cold, business-like tone it said:
"Are you busy? I have some letters to dictate."
Instantly aroused to a sense of her duties, Virginia sat up with a
start. Without looking up, accustomed to be at the beck and call of
the first stranger who came along, she said wearily:
"No, I'm not busy. I'll take the dictation."
The newcomer sat down at her desk. Virginia slipped a piece of paper
into her machine and was ready to begin. Suddenly the man uttered an
exclamation. She looked up and nearly fell from her chair.
"Mr. Hadley!" she exclaimed.
It was her husband's most intimate friend. Chance had brought him to
the hotel and having some business letters to write, he had stopped at
the desk of the first stenographer who appeared to be unoccupied. When
he saw who the young operator was he could scarcely believe his eyes.
With a gesture of the greatest concern, he exclaimed:
"Mrs. Stafford! You here?"
She smiled sadly.
"Yes. I've been here some time, ever since--" She stopped short, not
knowing how much he might know of her difference with her husband. As
yet the world knew nothing of the scandal that had shattered a home
and as far as she was concerned it never would. After a pause she
added timidly: "You see I am not rich--I have to support myself."
Hadley leaned forward and sympathetically grasped her hand. He had
always liked Virginia. Her womanliness and spirit appealed strongly to
him. Stafford had treated her like a brute. He ought never to have let
her go. Many a time he had berated his friend for what he termed his
pigheaded obstinacy.
"Oh, Mrs. Stafford!" he went on warmly. "I had no idea you were here.
How noble and plucky it is of you--"
"Any self-respecting woman would do the same," she said quietly.
Hadley shrugged his shoulders. Cynically he replied:
"Some might, most wouldn't. You don't find women in our set making
sacrifices even for a principle when it comes to giving up their
comforts and their luxuries. I think you've acted splendidly and so
does Bob, only he won't admit it. He's a good fellow at heart. The
trouble was that he married too late in life. His habits were formed.
He did not realize that to be happy in married life one must give as
well as take; in other words, that a really happy marriage is a
compromise. Always having had his own way, accustomed to imposing his
will upon that of others, he failed to realize that when he married he
conferred certain rights on the woman to whom he gave his name. Now it
is different. He sees his mistake. It has been a bitter lesson to
him."
A deep flush spread over Virginia's pale face. What did these words
mean? Could it be true that her husband still loved her?
"You see him sometimes?" she murmured.
"Almost every day. I dined with him at the club last night."
"Is he well?"
Hadley made no answer, but bending forward, looked more closely at his
friend's wife. He took quick note of her tired-looking eyes, the
pallor of her face. Slowly he said:
"And you? Are you well? I think that is more important."
She smiled wearily as she answered:
"Oh, I'm a little tired, that's all. This work is very confining. In
fact, I've quite gotten out of the way of it."
He looked at her intently for a moment in silence. Then he said:
"I had no idea where you had gone. None of his friends knew. Some
think you are abroad. Bob has let that impression get about. Even I,
his most intimate friend, did not know all the particulars! I guessed
the truth. Yet Bob knew where you were."
Virginia, startled, looked up quickly:
"He knows?" she exclaimed.
Hadley nodded.
"Yes--he has employed a man to watch you constantly from a distance.
Not because he believed you would ever give him cause for divorce--to
be fair to him, that has never entered his mind; but he wanted someone
to watch over you, protect you--"
Virginia flushed; her heart was beating violently. In a low tone, she
said:
"He has done that?" she exclaimed. "Then he has not forgotten me after
all--"
The young man laughed.
"Forgotten you! I should think not. You are never out of his thoughts.
He won't admit it, but I know it. He loves you to-day better than he
ever did."
"Then why, if he knows where I am, doesn't he come to me?"
Hadley clenched his fist. Vehemently, almost angrily, he answered:
"Because he's a fool. He said he wouldn't come to you until you sent
for him, and he hasn't the moral courage to change his mind--he's
afraid to be laughed at."
Virginia shook her head. Sadly she said:
"Then I'm afraid the breach will never be healed. If he is proud, I am
not less so. I shall never send for him."
"But you can't go on like this, my dear Mrs. Stafford," he protested.
"You really can't. You'll make yourself ill. It's not the kind of life
you're fitted for."
"What else can I do?" she inquired. "Teach? I have not the patience.
Go into a store? It is too humiliating. No, this is the best I can
think of. I'm living with my sister. I am comfortable and as happy as
I can expect to be under the circumstances."
"But won't you change your mind, won't you forgive Bob?" he persisted.
"Let me go back to him now with a message from you. It is all he is
waiting for, I know it--just one word. It will make him the happiest
of men!"
Virginia shook her head.
"You are very kind, Mr. Hadley. I know you mean well, and that you are
my friend. My husband and I understand one another perfectly. Neither
will consent to send for the other, so the situation will remain
exactly where it is."
He rose to go.
"Is this final?"
She shook her head decisively.
"Yes--it is final."
"You will never go back to him?"
"Not till he comes for me."
He grasped her hand and the next minute was lost to view in the crowd.
All that night, while the Gillies slumbered peacefully, Virginia
tossed restlessly on her bed, thinking over what Mr. Hadley had told
her. Try as she would, she was unable to banish thoughts of her
husband from her mind. If he still cared for her, if he missed her,
why didn't he come for her? If he himself suffered, why did he let her
go on weeping out her heart in this way? Why should two human beings
allow their pride to make them suffer so abominably? She thought she
would show herself the more generous of the two; and send him a
message, urging him to come at once. Then, as she recalled his stern,
merciless words, she again rebelled. No--no--it would degrade her in
his eyes if she weakened! She would not--she would not! She loved
him--yes--only now she realized how dearly she loved him; but it was
just because she loved him that she would not forfeit his esteem. When
morning broke, she was still wide awake, thinking, thinking, her eyes
red and swollen from countless tears.