NUMBER 526
"Mother, that was Margot!"
Mrs. Wadislaw heard but did not comprehend what Adrian was saying. She
was flushed and panting from her rush after the retreating train and
her nerves were excited.
"I'll never, never--run--for any car--in this world, again!" she
gasped. "It's dangerous, and--so--so uncomfortable. My heart----"
"Poor mother! I'm sorry. I'll get you some water."
The young fellow was excited himself but on quite a different matter;
yet he knew that nothing could be done for the present and that the
disturbed lady would take no interest in anything until her own
agitation was calmed.
"No, no. Don't you leave me. Touch the button. Let the porter
attend--I--I am so shaken. I'll never, never do it again."
He obeyed her and sat down in the easy-chair beside her. She had been
compelled to run else they had been left behind, and she had been
hurried from the platform of that last car through the long train to
their own reserved seats in the drawing-room car.
"It was foolish; doubly so, because trains are so frequent. There was
no need for haste, anyway, was there?"
"Only this need: that when anybody accepts a dinner invitation one
should never keep a hostess waiting."
"But when the hostess is only your own sister, and daughter?"
"One should be most punctilious in one's own family. Oh, yes. It is no
laughing matter, my son, and since you have come home and regained
your common sense, you must regard all these seeming trifles. Half the
disagreements and discomforts of life are due to the fact that even
well-bred people treat their own households with a rudeness they
would not dare show strangers. Now that you have given up your
careless habits I shall take care to remind you of all these details,
and expect to see you a finished society man within a twelvemonth."
"No, indeed!"
"Adrian! How can you trifle so? Now when you've so lately been
restored to me?"
"Dearest mother, I am not trifling. I should be, though, if I meant to
shine nowhere else than at a fashionable dinner-table. There, don't
look worried. I'll try not to disgrace you, yet---- Well, I've learned
a higher view of life than that. But can you hear me now? That was
Margot--woodland Margot--who saved my life!"
"Nonsense. It couldn't be."
"It surely was; and I'm going to ask you to excuse me from this one
visit so that I can go back and find her."
"Find her? If it were she, and I'm positive you are mistaken, of
course she is not in the city alone. Her uncle must be with her, and
your sister will be deeply hurt if you fail her this first time. At a
dinner, you know, there are a certain and limited number of guests.
The failure of one leaves his or her partner in an awkward position.
You must keep your engagement, even if---- But, Adrian?"
"Yes, mother."
"You must not exaggerate your obligations to those people. They did
for you only what anybody would do for a man lost in the woods. By
their own admission you were worth a great deal to that farmer. Else
he never would have parted with eighty dollars, as he did. I shall
always prize the gold piece you brought me; indeed, I mean to have
it set in a pin and wear it. But this Maine farmer, or lumberman,
or whatever he is, just drop him out of mind. His very name is
objectionable to me, and you must never mention it before your father.
Years ago there was a--well, something unpleasant with some people;
and, please oblige me by--by not being disagreeable now. After all my
anxiety while you were gone and about your father's health, I think--I
really----"
Adrian slipped his arm across the back of the lady's chair and smiled
upon her, lovingly. He was trying his utmost to make up to her and all
his family for whatever they had suffered because of his former
"misdeeds." He had come home full of high resolves and had had his
sincerity immediately tested by his father's demanding that:
"If you are in earnest, if you intend to do a son's part by us, go
back into the bank and learn a good business. This 'art' you talk
about, what is it? But the shifty resource of a lot of idle fellows.
Get down to business. Dollars are what count, in this world. Put
yourself in a place where you can make them, and while I am alive to
aid you."
Adrian's whole nature rebelled against this command, yet he had obeyed
it. And he had inwardly resolved that, outside the duties of his
clerkship, his time was his own and should be devoted to his beloved
painting.
"After all, some of the world's finest pictures have been done by
those whose leisure was scant. If it's in me it will have to come out.
Some time, in some way, I'll live my own life in spite of all."
It had hurt him, too, a little that his people so discouraged all
history of his wanderings.
All of his sisters were married and well-connected, and one of them
voiced the opinion of all, when she said:
"Your running away, or your behaving so that you had to be sent away,
is quite disgrace enough. That you are back safe, and sensible, is all
any of us care to know."
But because he was forbidden to talk of his forest experiences he
dwelt upon them all the more in his own mind; and this afternoon's
glimpse of Margot's sunny head had awakened all his former interest.
Why was she in New York? Was the "master" with her? He, of whom
his own mother spoke in such ignorant contempt, as a "farmer," a
"lumberman," yet who was the most finished scholar and gentleman that
Adrian had ever met.
"Well, I can't get home till after that wretched dinner, and I should
have to wait for the next train, anyway, even if the 'mater' would let
me off. I've promised myself to make her happy, dear little woman, if
I can, and sulking over my own disappointments isn't the way to do
that," he reflected. So he roused himself to talk of other matters,
and naturally of the sister at whose home they were to dine.
"I don't see what made Kate ever marry a warden of state's prison. I
should think life in such a place would be hateful."
"That shows how little you know about it, and what a revelation this
visit will be to you. Why, my dear, she has a beautiful home, with
horses and carriages at her disposal; her apartments are finely
furnished and she has one comfort that I have not, or few
housekeepers in fact."
"What is that?"
"As many servants as she requires, and at no expense to herself.
Servants who are absolutely obedient, thoroughly trained, and never
'giving notice.'"
"I do not understand."
"They are the convicts. Why, they even have an orchestra to play at
their entertainments, also of convicts; the musical ones to whom the
playing is a great reward and treat. I believe they are to play
to-night."
"Horror! I hope not. I don't want to be served by any poor fellow out
of a cell."
"You'll not think about that. Not after a little. I don't at all, now,
though I used to, sometimes, when they were first in office. It's odd
that though they've lived at Sing Sing for two years you've not been
there yet."
"Not so odd, little mother. Kate and I never get along together very
well. She's too dictatorial. Besides, she was always coming home and
I saw her there. I had no hankering after a prison, myself. And
speaking of disgrace, I feel that her living in such a place is worse
than anything I ever did."
"Adrian, for a boy who has ordinary intelligence you do say the
strangest things. The office of warden is an honorable one and well
paid."
The lad smiled and his mother hastily added:
"Besides, it gives an opportunity for befriending the unhappy
prisoners. Why, there is a man----"
She hesitated, looked fixedly at her son as if considering her next
words, then concluded, rather lamely:
"But you'll see."
She opened her novel and began to read and Adrian also busied himself
with the evening paper; and presently the station was reached and they
left the train.
A carriage was in waiting for them, driven by men in livery, and
altogether quite smart enough to warrant his mother's satisfaction as
they stepped into it and were whirled away to the prison.
But as he had been forewarned, there was no suggestion of anything
repulsive in the charming apartments they entered, and his sister's
greeting was sufficiently affectionate to make him feel that he had
misjudged her in the past.
All the guests were in dinner dress and Adrian was appointed to take
in his own mother, Kate having decided that this would be a happy
surprise to both parties. They had been the last to arrive and as soon
as greetings were over the meal was immediately served; but on their
way toward the dining-room, Mrs. Wadislaw pressed her son's arm and
nodded significantly toward the leader of the palm-hidden orchestra.
"Take a look at that man."
"Yes. Who is he?"
"A convict, life sentence. Number 526. He plays divinely, violin.
But----"
Again she hesitated and looked sharply into Adrian's face. Should she,
or should she not, tell him the rest? Yes. She must; it would be the
surest, shortest way of curing his infatuation for those wood people.
Her boy had spoken of this Margot as a child, yet with profound love
and admiration. It would be as well to nip any nonsense of that sort
in the bud. There was only a moment left, they were already taking
their places at the elegantly appointed table, and she whispered the
rest:
"He is in for robbery and manslaughter,--your own father the victim.
His name is Philip Romeyn, and your woodland nonpareil is his
daughter."