AT THE HÔTEL BOILEAU
It was early in December,--two months after the departure of Edna and her
little party from New York,--and they were all comfortably domiciled in
the Hotel Boileau, in a quiet street, not far from the Boulevard des
Italiens. This house, to which they came soon after their arrival in
Paris, might be considered to belong to the family order, but its grade
was much higher than that of the hotel in which they had lived in San
Francisco. As in the former place, they had private apartments, a private
table, and the service of their own colored men, in addition to that of
the hotel servants. But their salon was large and beautifully furnished,
their meals were cooked by a French chef, every one, from the lordly
porter to the quick-footed chambermaid, served them with a courteous
interest, and Mrs. Cliff said that although their life in the two hotels
seemed to be in the main the same sort of life, they were, in reality, as
different as an old, dingy mahogany bureau, just dragged from an attic,
and that same piece of furniture when it had been rubbed down, oiled, and
varnished. And Ralph declared that, so far as he knew anything about it,
there was nothing like the air of Paris to bring out the tones and
colorings and veinings of hotel life. But the greatest difference between
the former and the present condition of this little party lay in the fact
that in San Francisco its principal member was Mrs. Philip Horn, while in
Paris it was Miss Edna Markham.
This change of name had been the result of nights of thought and hours of
consultation. In San Francisco Edna felt herself to be Mrs. Horn as truly
as if they had been married at high noon in one of the city churches, but
although she could see no reason to change her faith in the reality of
her conjugal status, she had begun to fear that Captain Horn might have
different views upon the subject. This feeling had been brought about by
the tone of his letters. If he should die, those letters might prove that
she was then his widow, but it was plain that he did not wish to impress
upon her mind that she was now his wife.
If she had remained in San Francisco, Edna would have retained the
captain's name. There she was a stranger, and Captain Horn was well
known. His agents knew her as Mrs. Horn, the people of the _Mary
Bartlett_ knew her as such, and she should not have thought of resigning
it. But in Paris the case was very different. There she had friends, and
expected to make more, and in that city she was quite sure that Captain
Horn was very little known.
Edna's Parisian friends, were all Americans, and some of them people of
consideration, one of her old schoolmates being the wife of a secretary
of the American legation. Could she appear before these friends as Mrs.
Captain Philip Horn, feeling that not only was she utterly unable to
produce Captain Horn, but that she might never be able to do so? Should
the captain not return, and should she have proofs of his death, or
sufficient reason to believe it, she might then do as she pleased about
claiming her place as his widow. But should he return, he should not find
that she had trammelled and impeded his plans and purposes by announcing
herself as his wife. She did not expect ever to live in San Francisco
again, and in no other place need she be known as Mrs. Horn.
As to the business objects of her exceptional marriage, they were, in a
large degree, already attained. The money Captain Horn had remitted to
her in San Francisco was a sum so large as to astound her, and when she
reached Paris she lost no time in depositing her funds under her maiden
name. For the sake of security, some of the money was sent to a London
banker, and in Paris she did not deposit with the banking house which
Captain Horn had mentioned. But directions were left with that house that
if a letter ever came to Mrs. Philip Horn, it was to be sent to her in
care of Mrs. Cliff, and, to facilitate the reception of such a letter,
Mrs. Cliff made Wraxton, Fuguet & Co. her bankers, and all her letters
were addressed to them. But at Edna's bankers she was known as Miss
Markham, and her only Parisian connection with the name of Horn was
through Mrs. Cliff.
The amount of money now possessed by Edna was, indeed, a very fair
fortune for her, without regarding it, as Captain Horn had requested, as
a remittance to be used as a year's income. In his letters accompanying
his remittances the captain had always spoken of them as her share of the
gold brought away, and in this respect he treated her exactly as he
treated Mrs. Cliff, and in only one respect had she any reason to infer
that the money was in any manner a contribution from himself. In making
her divisions according to his directions, her portion was so much
greater than that of the others, Edna imagined Captain Horn sent her his
share as well as her own. But of this she did not feel certain, and
should he succeed in securing the rest of the gold in the mound, she did
not know what division he would make. Consequently, this little thread of
a tie between herself and the captain, woven merely of some hypothetical
arithmetic, was but a cobweb of a thread. The resumption of her maiden
name had been stoutly combated by both Mrs. Cliff and Ralph. The first
firmly insisted upon the validity of the marriage, so long as the captain
did not appear, but she did not cease to insist that the moment he did
appear, there should be another ceremony.
"But," said Edna, "you know that Cheditafa's ceremony was performed
simply for the purpose of securing to me, in case of his loss on that
boat trip, a right to claim the benefit of his discovery. If he should
come back, he can give me all the benefit I have a right to claim from
that discovery, just as he gives you your share, without the least
necessity of a civilized marriage. Now, would you advise me to take a
step which would seem to force upon him the necessity for such a
marriage?"
"No," said Mrs. Cliff. "But all your reasoning is on a wrong basis. I
haven't the least doubt in the world---I don't see how any one can have a
doubt--that the captain intends to come back and claim you as his wife;
and if anything more be necessary to make you such, as I consider there
would be, he would be as ready as anybody to do it. And, Edna, if you
could see yourself, not merely as you look in the glass, but as he would
see you, you would know that he would be as ready as any of us would wish
him to be. And how will he feel, do you suppose, when he finds that you
renounce him and are going about under your maiden name?"
In her heart Edna answered that she hoped he might feel very much as she
had felt when he did not come to see her in San Francisco, but to Mrs.
Cliff she said she had no doubt that he would fully appreciate her
reasons for assuming her old name.
Ralph's remarks were briefer, and more to the point.
"He married you," he said, "the best way he could under the
circumstances, and wrote to you as his wife, and in San Francisco you
took his name. Now, if he comes back and says you are not his wife, I'll
kill him."
"If I were you, Ralph," said his sister, "I wouldn't do that. In fact, I
may say I would disapprove of any such proceeding."
"Oh, you can laugh," said he, "but it makes no difference to me. I shall
take the matter into my own hands if he repudiates that contract."
"But suppose I give him no chance to repudiate it?" said Edna. "Suppose
he finds me Miss Edna Markham, and finds, also, that I wish to continue
to be that lady? If what has been done has any force at all, it can
easily be set aside by law."
Ralph rose and walked up and down the floor, his hands thrust deep into
his pockets.
"That's just like a woman," he said. "They are always popping up new and
different views of things, and that is a view I hadn't thought of. Is
that what you intend to do?"
"No," said Edna, "I do not intend to do anything. All I wish is to hold
myself in such a position that I can act when the time comes to act."
Ralph took the whole matter to bed with him in order to think over it. He
did a great deal more sleeping than thinking, but in the morning he told
Edna he believed she was right.
"But one thing is certain," he said: "even if that heathen marriage
should not be considered legal, it was a solemn ceremony of engagement,
and nobody can deny that. It was something like a caveat which people get
before a regular patent is issued for an invention, and if you want him
to do it, he should stand up and do it; but if you don't, that's your
business. But let me give you a piece of advice: wherever you go and
whatever you do, until this matter is settled, be sure to carry around
that two-legged marriage certificate called Cheditafa. He can speak a
good deal of English now, if there should be any dispute."
"Dispute!" cried Edna, indignantly. "What are you thinking of? Do you
suppose I would insist or dispute in such a matter? I thought you knew me
better than that."
Ralph sighed. "If you could understand how dreadfully hard it is to know
you," he said, "you wouldn't be so severe on a poor fellow if he happened
to make a mistake now and then."
When Mrs. Cliff found that Edna had determined upon her course, she
ceased her opposition, and tried, good woman as she was, to take as
satisfactory a view of the matter as she could find reason for.
"It would be a little rough," she said, "if your friends were to meet you
as Mrs. Horn, and you would be obliged to answer questions. I have had
experience in that sort of thing. And looking at it in that light, I
don't know but what you are right, Edna, in defending yourself against
questions until you are justified in answering them. To have to admit
that you are not Mrs. Horn after you had said you were, would be
dreadful, of course. But the other would be all plain sailing. You would
go and be married properly, and that would be the end of it. And even if
you were obliged to assert your claims as his widow, there would be no
objection to saying that there had been reasons for not announcing the
marriage. But there is another thing. How are you going to explain your
prosperous condition to your friends? When I was in Plainton, I thought
of you as so much better off than myself in this respect, for over here
there would be no one to pry into your affairs. I did not know you had
friends in Paris."
"All that need not trouble me in the least," said Edna. "When I went to
school with Edith Southall, who is now Mrs. Sylvester, my father was in a
very good business, and we lived handsomely. It was not until I was
nearly grown up that he failed and died, and then Ralph and I went to
Cincinnati, and my life of hard work began. So you see there is no reason
why my friends in Paris should ask any questions, or I should make
explanations."
"I wish it were that way in Plainton," said Mrs. Cliff, with a sigh. "I
would go back there the moment another ship started from France."
So it was Miss Edna Markham of New York who took apartments at the Hotel
Boileau, and it was she who called upon the wife of the American
secretary of legation.