An Encounter
While Gill and Allan Drain were having their interview in the
living-room, Bettina Graham slipped out of Tahawus cabin alone and
carrying her skates walked down to the edge of Half Moon Lake.
She had been depressed all day; Peggy's marriage and departure to a
foreign country meant more to her than most persons dreamed. They had
been intimate and devoted friends since they were tiny girls, and
Bettina believed their friendship could never again have its old value.
The fact that Peggy appeared to have found her place in the scheme of
things also affected Bettina, because of late she herself had felt that
she must find some more definite outlet for her own life. Her school
days were over unless she were to choose some special course of study;
this winter in the mountains, delightful as it had been in many respects
and not without its useful lessons, nevertheless seemed to be a pause
and not a step forward in any particular direction.
Unwilling to confess either to her mother or Camp Fire guardian who
would be wounded by the knowledge, Bettina had been far more restless
and dissatisfied for the past few months than any one had imagined. This
afternoon her restlessness had culminated.
Kneeling down, she fastened on her skates.
Twilight was approaching, the distant snow-covered hills were amazing
studies in purple, from pale violet to the deeper tones. The surface of
the lake itself bore the reflections of a crystal ball.
Bettina started skating slowly, wishing to pursue her own train of
thought. She knew what her mother expected of her; they had been
discussing the subject this afternoon, and Bettina not only recognized
the reasonableness of her mother's position, but would have been hurt
had she felt otherwise.
Naturally after two years of absence abroad, her father and mother
looked forward to her returning to Washington and entering society. She
was no longer young enough to plead for more time, the war was past and
she had been allowed to devote herself to its service. This winter in
the Adirondacks was due to a special set of circumstances, her Camp Fire
guardian's illness, her father's long absence from Washington, and her
mother's desire to be with Mrs. Burton and her group of Camp Fire girls.
In another six weeks her mother probably would join her father in the
west and conclude the trip with him. She would then go back to
Washington and they were looking forward to a happy summer together in
their own cottage by the Blue Lagoon. So far Bettina knew nothing save
happiness in the prospect before her, but after the summer, her mother
had been planning this very afternoon a brilliant winter in Washington
society.
Why could she not feel the interest that any other normal girl in the
world would feel in such a future, with a successful marriage as its
climax?
Yet Bettina knew she only dreaded it with an even deeper antagonism than
she had felt in the past.
If only she and her brother, Tony, might have changed places? Tony was
as strikingly handsome as their mother was beautiful and possessed her
social grace and charm of manner.
Bettina believed she had neither; it was not merely a matter of
appearance; there were persons who thought her reasonably good looking
in her own fashion. Besides, she and her Camp Fire guardian had
discussed the subject many times, and she herself had witnessed in Mrs.
Burton a triumph of personality which always transcends mere physical
beauty. Her own distaste was a far more important factor. In the midst
of a group of society people Bettina knew she always was obliged to
fight a sense of awkwardness, of shyness, and that she had no
conversation and no animation. She could only prove a disappointment to
her mother, and yet was it not fair that she should make the experiment?
Against her own judgment and desire, her mother had allowed her the past
two years of freedom in her Camp Fire life.
Bettina was skating more rapidly than at first, and without her
knowledge her depression was fading. The cold air stung her cheeks, but
her blood flowed warmly; this portion of the lake was smooth as glass.
Finally a smile appeared at the corners of her lips. Perhaps she was
taking herself and her own future too seriously, as this was one of the
faults of her character. Moreover, doubtless she was spoiled. Never had
she to contend against real difficulties such as many other girls face.
Marguerite Arnot, for instance, friendless and oftentimes ill, for years
had been forced to earn her own living.
If at this instant Bettina could only have beheld herself with other
eyes she would have appreciated her own good fortune more keenly.
Her skating costume was of the color she most affected, a soft,
deep-toned blue serge, neither light nor dark blue, with a short skirt
and coat. About her throat she was wearing a beaver fur and on her head
a cap of beaver nearly the shade of her own hair, one of her mother's
Christmas gifts, and carrying a small muff.
Her complexion, at times too pale, was now a lovely combination of white
and rose. Tall and slender, Bettina was always exceptionally graceful,
but more conspicuous than any other characteristic was her air of high
breeding.
"Are you a part of the wind? Won't you please pause and wait for a
fellow mortal who has not your swift skill?" Bettina heard a voice
behind her calling, and turning skated slowly back.
"But I thought you were off for a walk, Mr. Hale; the cabin was nearly
deserted when I escaped?"
"Yes, I was, Miss Bettina, but our walk was over a half hour ago and I
inquired of your mother what had become of you. I have been following
you for the past fifteen minutes. You observe that I skate abominably
and yet I was determined to catch up."
Bettina extended her hand.
"You are a bit out of practice; perhaps if you take my hand I can be of
some assistance. It was kind of you to care to join me."
A moment they skated along in silence, David Hale gaining in prowess
from the touch of the gloved fingers.
"Does it occur to you, Miss Bettina, this is the first opportunity I
have had to exchange a word with you alone?"
Bettina laughed.
"Yes, I know, but you only arrived a short time ago and we have been
having a pretty strenuous existence at Tahawus cabin for these last two
days. I hope you have not been bored by being forced to be a guest at a
wedding, which was as unexpected to us as to you. I want to thank you
for your presence of mind this morning. Mother and Mr. Drain would have
been more seriously injured except for you."
"I was a dunce, Miss Bettina, not to have discovered sooner what was
taking place almost beside me. I suppose I was too interested in the
wedding ceremony. But in any case all the danger and therefore all the
credit is due Allan Drain. I confess I am a little envious of his
position as hero and my own as anything else. I would give a good deal
to have you and your mother grateful to me. You seem altogether to have
forgotten our friendship. Oh, I do not mean you are not friendly, but I
believed we were more than ordinarily friendly during the months in
France. I hoped when we met again that we might take things up where we
left off on that enchanting afternoon in the Queen's secret garden at
Versailles. Now I see I must begin again at the beginning, but I am a
persistent person and am looking forward to your return to Washington.
Then you will be meeting so many people and no doubt will be a great
belle, so I am afraid my opportunities for seeing you there will be
limited."
Bettina moved so slowly that the two skaters appeared to be poised like
birds about to take wing for further flight.
"If I am forced to make my début in Washington next winter if you _will_
be good to me I shall be more grateful than you realize. I know I shall
be a dismal failure. Really I don't mind for myself so much as for my
mother; I am afraid she is going to be dreadfully disappointed in me,
and she always has been in a fashion. It is hard when people love each
other a great deal and yet have no congeniality of taste."
"Then why not follow your friend Peggy Webster's example and so escape
the society adventure altogether?"
Bettina shook her head.
"Thanks, I don't like to quote tiresome old axioms, but one has heard of
the frying pan and the fire. Besides, one cannot follow Peggy's example
all alone. By the way, did you and Marguerite Arnot manage to have your
walk together? I hope so. Isn't Marguerite charming? I envy her
exquisite manners. You know she is coming to spend next winter with us
in Washington; mother has persuaded her. Sometimes I think it might be
well if some witch or fairy should force Marguerite and me to change
places. She could fill my place so much more gracefully, however, than I
could her's."
"You could never change places in my estimation."
Bettina laughed.
"No, I never anticipated such an honor. But come let us go back to the
cabin, the darkness is nearly upon us. Isn't the evening exquisite? See
the little half moon rising there above our lake! I am sorry, but I
cannot stay out longer, I promised I would not. It has been nice to have
this little talk with you."