Several weeks passed in which Mills exercised a discreet vigilance in
observing Shep and Connie. Whitford was in town; Mills met him once and
again at Shep’s house, but there were others of the younger element
present and there was nothing in Whitford’s conduct to support Mrs.
Thornberry’s story. He asked Carroll incidentally about the dramatic
club play--as if merely curious as to whether it had been a successful
evening, and Carroll’s description of Whitford’s little drama and of
Connie’s part in it was void of any hint that it concealed a serious
attachment between the chief actors.
The usual social routine of the summer stay-at-homes was progressing in
the familiar lazy fashion--country club dances, motor trips, picnics
and the like. On his return Mills had called at once upon the Hardens.
Millicent’s charms had in nowise diminished in his absence. With
everything else satisfactorily determined, there would be no reason
why he should not marry Millicent. His sister’s disapproval did not
weigh with him at all. But first he must see Leila married, and he
still hoped to have Carroll for a son-in-law. Leila had entered into
the summer gaieties with her usual zest, accepting the escort of one
and another available young man with a new amiability. One evening at
the Faraway Country Club Mills saw her dancing with Thomas; but it was
for one dance only, and Thomas seemed to be distributing his attentions
impartially. A few nights later when they had dined alone at Deer
Trail--Leila had suggested that they go there merely to please him--as
they sat on the veranda all his hopes that her infatuation for Thomas
had passed were rudely shattered.
“Well, Dada,” she began, when he was half through his after-dinner
cigar, “it’s nice to be back. It’s a lot more fun being at home in
summer. There is something about the old home town and our own country.
I guess I’m a pretty good little American.”
“I guess you are,” he assented with a chuckle that expressed his entire
satisfaction with her. The veranda was swept fitfully by a breeze warm
sweet with the breath of ripening corn. It was something to be owner
of some part of the earth; it was good to be alive, master of himself,
able to direct and guide the lives of others less fortunately endowed
than he with wisdom and power.
Leila touched his hand and he clasped and held it on the broad arm of
his favorite rocker.
“Dada, what a wonderful time we had on our trip! I was a good little
girl--wasn’t I? You know I was trying so hard to be good!”
“You were an angel,” he exclaimed heartily. “Our trip will always be
one of the happiest memories of my life.”
At once apprehensive, he hoped these approaches concealed nothing more
serious than a request for an increase in her allowance or perhaps a
new car.
“I want to speak about Freddy Thomas,” she said, freeing her hand and
moving her chair the better to command his attention.
“Thomas!” he said as though repeating an unfamiliar name. “I thought
you were all done with him.”
“Dada,” she said very gently, “I love Freddy. All the time I was away I
was testing myself--honestly and truly trying to forget him. I didn’t
hear from him and I didn’t send him even a postcard. But now that I’m
back it’s all just the same. We do love each other; he’s the only man
in the world that can ever make me happy. Please--don’t say no!”
He got up slowly, and walked the length of the veranda and came back to
find her leaning against one of the pillars.
“Now, Leila,” he began sharply, “we’ve been all over this, and
I thought you realized that a marriage with that man would be a
mistake--a grave blunder. He’s playing upon your sympathy--telling you,
no doubt, what a great mistake he made in his first venture.”
“I’ve seen him only once since I got back and that was the other night
at the club,” she replied patiently. “Freddy’s no cry-baby; you know
you couldn’t find a single thing against him except the divorce, and
that wasn’t his fault. He’s perfectly willing to answer any questions
you want to ask him. Isn’t that fair enough?”
“You expect me to treat with him--listen to his nasty scandal! I’ve
told you it won’t do! There’s never been a divorce in our family--nor
in your mother’s family! I feel strongly about it. The thing has got
too common; it’s taken away all the sanctity of marriage! And that I
should welcome as a husband for a young girl like you a man who has
had another wife--a woman who’s still living--keeping his name, I
understand--I tell you, Leila, it won’t do! It’s my duty to protect you
from such a thing. I have wanted you to take a high position in this
community--such a position as your mother held; and can you imagine
yourself doing it as the second wife of a man who’s not of our circle,
not our kind at all?”
He flung round, took a few quick steps and then returned to the attack.
“I want this matter to be disposed of now. What would our friends think
of me if I let you do such a thing? They’d think I’d lost my mind! I
tell you it’s not in keeping with our position--with your position as
my daughter--to let you make a marriage that would change the whole
tone of the family. If you’ll think a little more about this I believe
you’ll see just what the step means. I want the best for you. I don’t
believe your happiness depends on your marrying this man. I may as well
tell you bluntly now that I can never reconcile myself to the idea of
your marrying him. I’ve thought it all over in all its aspects. You’ve
never had a care nor a worry in your life. When you marry I want you to
start even--with a man who’s your equal in the world’s eyes.”
He had delivered this a little oratorically, with a gesture or two,
and one might have thought that he was pleased with his phrases. Leila
in her simple summer gown, with one hand at her side, the other thrust
into the silk sash at her waist, seemed singularly young as she stood
with her back to the pillar. The light from the windows, mingled with
the starlight and moonlight playing upon her face, made it possible to
watch the effect of his words. The effect, if any, was too obscure for
his vision. Her eyes apparently were not seeing him at all; he might
as well have addressed himself to one of the veranda chairs for any
satisfaction he derived from his speech.
It was on his tongue to pile up additional arguments against the
marriage; but this unresisting Leila with her back to the pillar
exasperated him. And all those months that they had traveled about
together, with never a mention of Thomas; when she had even indulged in
mild flirtations with men who became their fellow travelers for a day,
she had carried in her heart this determination to marry Thomas. And
he, Franklin Mills, had stupidly believed that she was forgetting the
man....
He again walked the length of the veranda, and as he retraced his steps
she met him by the door.
“Well, Dada, shall we drive in?” she asked, quite as though nothing had
happened.
“I suppose we may as well start,” he said and looked at his watch to
hide his embarrassment rather than to learn the time.
On the way into town she recurred to incidents of their travels
and manifested great interest in changes he proposed making in his
conservatories to embrace some ideas he had gathered in England; but
she did not refer in any way to Thomas. When they reached home she
kissed him good-night and went at once to her room.
The house was stifling from the torrid day and Mills wished himself
back at the farm. His chief discomfort was not physical, however; Leila
had eluded him, taken refuge in the inconsequential and irrelevant in
her own peculiar, capricious fashion. It was not in his nature to
discuss his affairs or ask counsel, but he wished there were someone he
could talk to.... Millicent might help him in his perplexity. He went
out on the lawn and looked across the hedge at the Hardens’, hearing
voices and laughter. The mirth was like a mockery.