_From the Lady_ HELEN POLE _to the Countess of_ EDGE _and_ ROSS.
_Chipmunk Lake_,
August 11th
_Dearest Polly_:
I am rather put out, and have been so irritable for two days that I
hardly know myself. Still, thank heaven, nobody suspects it. I never
have been more amiable.
The other night a half dozen of the party were playing Bridge in a
corner of Mrs. Van Worden’s living-room. I detest gambling and was
trying to interest myself in a book when I happened to glance out of
the window and saw--Mrs. Coward and Mr. N. on their way down to the
lake. Now, I don’t pretend to be in love with the man, Polly, but I
do feel that while he is pretending devotion to me it is little short
of an insult for him to sneak off with another woman--and an arrant
coquette--for a row at nine o’clock at night--it is scandalous and I
never have heard _any one_ utter so many virtuous platitudes as Mrs. C.
If I thought he was trying to make me jealous I should merely dismiss
him from my mind with the contempt he would deserve, but he really
is incapable of such pettiness, and I happen to know he was only too
frightened I’d find it out.
Polly, I cannot pretend to describe to you my sensations when I saw
those dark shapes steal through the spruce grove before the house--the
branches are cut so high that it is really a grove of slender trunks
and you see the lake plainly. For the moment I felt as if my heart
were sinking and I involuntarily pushed my hand underneath it, while
my breath shortened and my face burned and then went cold. I had an
impulse to rush out and see if it really were true and to prevent
it. And then I fell into a rage. How I wished Roddy Spencer were
here. He is such a splendid looking creature that he could be made to
set another man wild with jealousy. Suddenly I bethought myself of
Carlisle. He was playing, but the game was nearly over. I made up my
mind in an instant; I got up and moved about the room as if I were
getting bored and impatient, and in a few moments I caught his eye.
I sent him a glance of coquettish appeal, and it had the desired
effect. The moment the game was over he was at my side and we ensconced
ourselves on the three-cornered divan under the swinging rose-coloured
lamp and never moved till twelve o’clock. N. and Mrs. C. returned,
looking half-frozen and too silly, for they were obliged to get almost
inside the chimney. We never noticed them. I coquetted, Polly, as I
never coquetted before, and Mr. Carlisle is a flirt whose accomplished
depths it is interesting to explore. For fear he should think I was
animated by pique--although he knew nothing of the row--I contrived to
intimate that I was rather bored and on the verge of making an excuse
to return to Boulder Lake. At the same time I made him feel what a
triumph he would achieve if he renewed the fascinations of Chipmunk
Lake for me. Nothing would induce me to leave. I shall stay and prove
to this self-satisfied American flirt that I can make myself twice as
interesting as herself. I’ll employ her own weapon, flattery, and make
her platitudes apparent. When I have sufficiently punished N. I’ll take
him back and keep Carlisle besides. I am sure she wants to marry N.
She has too large a fortune of her own to be tempted by Carlisle’s, and
N.’s possibilities appeal to her inordinate ambition and vanity.
This morning, of course, N. tried to be as devoted as usual. But I
dismissed him with an absent smile, which became brilliantly personal
the moment C. appeared. We went off for a walk in the forest and I
never shall forget the expression of N.’s face. I almost relented. But
he deserves punishment. I will have all or nothing. In the afternoon
Mrs. Coward drifted about majestically for a half hour or so--her face
expressing nothing--while Carlisle and I read a novel together on the
divan in the corner. She tried to get N. into her pocket but he merely
glowered into the fire and took no notice of her. Presently she drifted
away, and in the afternoon I saw her fishing with _Mr. Van Worden_! If
I were in such desperate straits I would give out that I was writing a
book, and keep to my room. I fancy she wove a net of flattery for Mr.
Latimer, but he is a faithful soul. Mrs. Van W. often looks sad, by the
way, brilliant as her normal spirits are. It must be an unsatisfactory
roundabout way of trying to be happy. I am more than ever determined to
make no mistake when I do marry, and to consider one thing only. I am
convinced there is no other happiness.