DISPASSIONATE LOVERS
During the last moments of their drive Madge and Graydon were
comparatively silent. They were passing dwellings, meeting strangers,
and they could not, with the readiness of natures less finely
organized, descend to commonplaces. Each had abundant food for
thought, while even Graydon now believed that he so truly understood
Madge, and had so much in common with her, that words were no longer
needed for companionship.
As they approached the piazza, they saw that Arnault was still Miss
Wildmere's devoted attendant. His presence meant hope for Madge, and
Graydon was slightly surprised at his own indifference. He felt that
the girl to whom he regarded himself as bound belonged to a different
world, a lower plane of life than that of which he had been given a
glimpse. The best elements of his nature had been profoundly moved,
and brought to the surface, and he found them alien to the pair on
the piazza. He was even self-reproachful that he saw with so little
resentment Stella's present companionship.
"While I don't like her course at all," he thought, "I must believe
that she is acting from the most self-sacrificing motives. What
troubles me most now is that I have a growing sense of the narrowness
of her nature."
He had never come from her presence with his manhood aroused to its
depths. It was her beauty that he dwelt upon; her piquant, alluring
tones and gestures. Madge was not an ill-natured critic of the girl
who threatened to destroy her future, but, by being simply what she
was, she made the other shrink and grow common by contrast.
To Graydon such comparisons were odious indeed, and he would not
willingly permit them; but, in conformity to mental laws and the force
of circumstances, they would present themselves. Each day had found
him in the society of the two girls, and even an hour like one of
those just passed compelled him to feel the superiority of Madge. His
best hope already for Stella was that she would change when surrounded
by better influences--that her faultless taste in externals would
eventually create repugnance to modes of thought and action unsuitable
in a higher plane of life. He did not question his love for her,
but he felt this morning that it was a love which was becoming
disenchanted early, and into which the elements of patience and
tolerance might have to enter largely. Should he marry her to-day he
could not, as Madge had said, and with the first glow of affection,
believe her perfect. He even sighed as he thought of the future.
His heart was very tender toward Madge, but it was with an affection
that seemed to him partly fraternal, and partly a regard for one
different, better, purer than himself. He proved the essential
fineness, the capabilities of his nature, by his appreciation of some
of her higher traits. Her ministry to the dying girl had given her
a sacredness in his eyes. For the time she was becoming a sort of
religion to him. He revealed this attitude of mind to her by a gentle
manner, and a tone of respect and consideration in the least thing he
said.
"Oh," thought the poor girl, "he could be so much to me and I to him!
His touch, even in thought, would never be coarse and unfeeling; and
I have seen again and again that I can inspire him, move him, and make
him happy. Why must a wretched blunder thwart and blight two lives?"
Before they had finished their breakfast the beautiful languor of
sleep was again in his companion's eyes, and he said: "Dear Madge,
promise me you will take a long rest. Before we part I want to tell
you what an illumined page you have put in my memory this morning.
Some of the shadows in the picture are very dark, but there is also a
light in it that 'never was on sea or land.' When you wake I shall be
on my way to the trout-stream to which Dr. Sommers will guide me; and,
do you know? I feel as if my memories will be in accord with the scene
of my camping-ground. As I sit in my tent-door to-night I shall think
over all you have said and described."
Her only answer was a smile, that for some reason quickened his pulse.
Much occurred before they met again.
He went to his room, wrote some letters, and made other preparations.
Then, feeling that he should give the remaining time before his
departure to Miss Wildmere, he sought her. She appeared to be waiting
for him on the piazza, and there was reproach in her tone, as she
said, "I half feared you were going without bidding me good-by."
"Such fears were scarcely just to me."
"I did not know but that you had so greatly enjoyed your morning drive
as to go away in a fit of absent-mindedness. I have been sitting here
alone an hour."
"I could not know that. When I drove up I saw that I should be _de
trop_," he replied, as they sauntered to an adjacent grove.
"Now, Graydon, you know that is never true, so far as I am concerned."
"The trouble is, Miss Wildmere, others are concerned in such a way
that the only resource left me is to keep my distance."
"Mr. Arnault has returned to the city," she said, with what appeared a
great sigh of relief. "I am perfectly free now."
"Till Mr. Arnault returns."
"I cannot help his return."
"Oh, no. I do not question his right to come back, or even to buy this
hotel and turn us all out."
"Please don't talk about him any more. I'm doing the best I can."
"I believe you think so, but I cannot think it will prove the best for
any one. It is not what I expected or even imagined. You are acting
from a mistaken sense of duty, and I am more sorry every day that
you can commit such an error. Look at it in its true light, Stella. I
cannot believe you are deceiving me: you must be leading Mr. Arnault
to entertain a false hope."
"Graydon, I have refused Mr. Arnault, and he will take no refusal."
"You can refuse him in such a way that he must take it at once and
forever."
"You don't know--" she began, tears coming into her eyes.
"No; you have only led me to surmise a great deal by implication."
"What would become of mamma and my little sister if papa should fail
utterly?" and tears came faster. No one could be more pathetic than
Miss Wildmere when she chose.
"Can you not trust me for them as well as for yourself?"
"Oh, Mr. Muir, I know you mean most generously and kindly, but papa is
so anxious and fearful! He tries to keep up before others, but I know
how he feels, and it's terrible. He is past middle age, and business
success means very much to him. How can I do anything to harm him? I
know so little about business and its perils, while papa thinks
there may be terrible dangers ahead for every one. You might have the
good-will to help us and yet soon be scarcely able to help yourself.
I have been made to feel that the best I could do through these
troublous times was to try to aid papa as far as possible, and then I
shouldn't have anything with which to reproach myself."
Graydon was perplexed. Apparently she was doing wrong in the most
self-sacrificing spirit, and believed that doing right, which would
end her abnegation, was wrong and selfish.
While he hesitated, she resumed: "You see, Graydon, papa has the same
as said that Mr. Arnault was tiding him over until he could realize
on securities now of little value. Of course there has been no
compromising understanding in words--do not think us capable of that.
It would cut me to the heart to have you misjudge me or condemn me. I
will give you the highest proof I can of my--my--esteem by being frank
on a delicate subject, so that you can see how I am placed. I don't
think many young ladies would do as much. Of course what I say is
sacred between us. Mr. Arnault offered himself long since, and I
promptly declined the honor, but he laughingly told me he would take
no refusal, and chatted through the rest of the evening as pleasantly
as if nothing had happened. I have virtually refused him several times
since, but he persists, declaring that he will remain an agreeable
friend until I change my mind. Surely, I am not misleading him. I
do like him as a friend, and he knows that I have for him no other
regard, and never had. Before you came he had begun to help papa, and
to throw business in his way, and just now he is rendering him very
great service. He may do this in the hope of influencing me, but he
gives his aid without conditions. Yet I know him well enough to be
sure that he would withdraw this business help should I now harshly
dismiss him or engage myself to another. While I do show him that I
appreciate his kindness, I do nothing to indicate that my feeling is
changed. He must know that I regard him in the same light as in the
past. If he is content with this, I have asked myself why I should
be precipitate--why alienate him now in the very crisis of papa's
affairs. Of course if I had only myself to think of--I've been foolish
enough to think that I might help papa and still be happy in the end.
Am I so very naughty, Graydon?"
He was at a loss how to answer her, but felt that he must at once
disabuse her mind of one expectation.
"I admit, Stella," he said, thoughtfully, "that you are peculiarly
placed, and I thank you for making clearer what I had partially
surmised. While I admire and respect the motive, I must still repeat
that I regret beyond all words such action in one who is so much
to me. It is right also that I should define my own position more
clearly. I will imitate your generous frankness. You know how greatly
I admired you before I first went abroad; and while I felt that there
was little chance for me, you being sought by so many, I did not give
up hope. This hope was strengthened by my visit last summer, and when
I returned and found you free a few weeks since I determined to win
you if I could. You know I would have spoken before had you permitted.
I have for some little time felt myself irrevocably bound by what has
passed between us. I also believed that you would eventually give me
a full explanation in regard to Mr. Arnault, and that his attentions
would cease. As to my not being able to take care of you, that is
absurd. I am not wealthy yet, but few young men in the city have
better prospects. My brother's business is large and profitable, and I
am soon to share in it. I could not, from the nature of things, enter
into business relations with your father--I should not be at the head
of the firm--but neither you nor yours should ever want. As to
my brother, he is in no financial danger whatever. He has a large
fortune, and is conservatism itself. If you are placed in an
embarrassing position, I am also. Arnault's manner is not that of a
friend. Others misjudge you and me also. It looks to the people here,
and to my own family, as if you were playing with us both.
"Moreover," he continued, after a moment's thought, "you are drifting
into a false relation with Arnault, although you may not be conscious
of it. Before these troubles began you simply tolerated his attentions
good-naturedly, and without any special motive. Now you have a
definite motive and purpose, and--pardon me, Stella--they are
misleading him. He would not continue his attentions an hour, did
he believe they were utterly hopeless. To Arnault and all others you
appear undecided between him and myself. Such an experiment as you are
trying cannot work well. If he has any other power beyond that of your
maidenly preference, he will not hesitate to increase it, and may make
your father more utterly dependent upon him while appearing helpful."
"Yes; I have thought of that," she said, musingly.
"There seems to me but one straightforward, high-toned thing for you
to do, Stella, and that is to follow your heart."
He was almost frightened at himself that he spoke with so little
eagerness and longing. His words seemed but the honorable and logical
sequence of what had gone before. For some reason this girl in the
broad light of day did not appear to be the same as when she had
fascinated him in the witching moonlight the evening before. It was
not that her beauty had gone with the glamour of the night, but he
had been breathing a different and a purer atmosphere. Madge had been
revealing what to him seemed ideal womanhood.
In regard to Stella his illusion had so far passed that he thought,
consciously, "Even at her best she is presenting Wildmere traits; her
very self-sacrifice takes on a Wildmere form, and there is a flavor of
Wall Street in it all."
But he still believed that he loved her, and that, if she was equal to
such great though mistaken self-sacrifice for her father, she would,
under his influence, throw off certain imperfections and gain a better
tone.
That such thoughts were passing through his mind was a bad omen for
the continuance of Miss Wildmere's power, and yet the opportunity of
her life was still hers. She had simply to put her hand into his with
a look of trust, and abide by the act, to secure a loyalty that would
always have tried to promote her best interests. That she was strongly
tempted to do this was proved by her manner, in spite of the fact that
she had promised Arnault not to decide against him before Saturday.
It was a moment of indecision. His strong assurance that he was
abundantly able to take care of her, that Mr. Muir was wealthy and
free from financial embarrassment, almost turned the scale. She felt
that both Arnault and her father were deceiving her for their own
purposes, and she had little hesitation in acting for herself
without regard to them. Graydon's suggestion that her action was not
high-toned, although delicately made, touched her pride to the quick,
and she was compelled to feel during this interview, as never before,
the superiority of the man who addressed her. She longed to force
Henry Muir to acknowledge the daughter of the man he shunned in
business; and not the least among her incentives was the thought of
triumphing over Madge as a possible rival.
"At any rate," she had thought, "if I become engaged to Graydon he
will have to be very much less fraternal. As to his not aiding papa,"
she concluded, "I can't help that. When once married I could make him
do all he could afford, and papa and mamma have no right to expect
anything more."
To the potency of all these considerations was added a sentiment for
the man who awaited her answer, and who chafed inwardly that it was so
long in coming.
"Truly," he thought, "this is a strange wooing. Henry himself
could not more carefully weigh the _pros_ and _cons_ than does she
apparently, nor am I in feverish suspense. I had hoped for something
different in my mating."
A glimmering perception that her manner was not calculated to inspire
a lover at last dawned on Miss Wildmere, and with it came a faltering
purpose to decide in favor of Graydon at once; but as she turned
toward him, to speak with what was meant to be a bewildering smile of
joy, a messenger from the office said, "A telegram, miss."
Graydon frowned, and then laughed outright. She stopped in the very
act of tearing open the envelope, and looked at him inquiringly.
"Oh, nothing," he said, lightly. "The opportuneness of that fellow's
coming was phenomenal. How much longer am I to wait for your decision,
Stella? Were the world in our secret, I should be known as St. Graydon
the patient."
She flushed, but adopted his apparently light mood as the least
embarrassing. "My memory is good, and I shall know how to reward you,"
she smilingly replied. "Please let me satisfy my mind about papa, for
I'm sure it's from him."
"Oh, satisfy your _mind_ fully about everything, Miss Wildmere."
She tore open the envelope with a strong gesture of impatience, and
read, with a suddenly paling cheek, "Unless you choose the immediate
certainty of absolute loss, wait till I see you. Will come soon.
Wildmere."
She crushed the telegram in her hand, and turned away with a
half-tragic air which at the moment struck Graydon as a little
"stagy," and then he condemned himself for the thought. As she did not
speak for a moment, he said, sympathetically, "Your tidings are bad?"
She tried to think, but was confused, and felt that she was in a cruel
dilemma. Could Graydon be deceiving her? or was he as ignorant as he
seemed of his brother's peril? Was her father in league with Arnault
after all? and were they uniting to separate her from Graydon? She
could not tell. She must gain more time. She would see her father,
charge him with duplicity, and wring the truth from him.
When she turned to Graydon her eyes were full of tears again, and she
faltered: "You may despise me if you will, but my father has made an
appeal to me, and is coming to see me. I must hear what he has to say.
I must tell him that I can't endure--that I can't go on this way any
longer. I would gladly help him, save him, but after what you have
said it's impossible to--Oh, was ever a girl placed in such wretched
straits! Graydon, can you be patient a little longer?"
"There is nothing else for me to do, Stella. I only stipulate
that your decision be made speedily, and that Arnault be given to
understand what my rights are. I shall have no difficulty in enforcing
them."
"I shall decide speedily. It is not right that I should be placed in
such a torturing, humiliating position."
"Now I agree with you perfectly. When does your father come?"
"He says 'soon.'"
"Very well; I will return on Saturday."
"I wish you wouldn't go away now," she entreated.
"I think it is best," replied Graydon, decisively, yet kindly. "I
have said all that is possible to an honorable man. By remaining I am
placed in an anomalous position which my self-respect does not permit
any longer."
"I suppose," she sighed, "that I should not ask too much. Well, so be
it, then."
They walked back to the house in silence. At the door of a side
entrance she turned to him, her face flushing at the admission, and
said, hastily, "I waited a long time for you, Graydon," and then fled
to her room.
"Oh, confound it!" he muttered, as he walked away. "What a muddle it
all is! I ought to feel like strangling myself for permitting this
doubting, cynical spirit to creep over me. Curse it all! her words and
manner haven't the ring of absolute truth. It seems as if I heard a
voice in the very depths of my soul, saying, 'Beware!' Am I becoming
an imbecile? I doubted and misjudged Madge. Thank Heaven that is past
forever! Now I am doubting and misjudging the woman I have asked to
be my wife. I must be misjudging her--the alternative is horrible.
I can't escape one conviction, however. It is turning out just as I
expected and told her it would. Arnault's aid to her father has been
delusive, and Wildmere is deeper in the mire than ever. This is a fine
ending of my social career! The girl of my choice puts me off until
she can end this Wall Street business more satisfactorily. She must
wait and hear her father's reasons for further diplomacy before she
can answer me. If Henry knew all this--But Madge, crystal Madge, won't
repeat what I said. I must risk the loss of her society also. Has
her keen insight into character enabled her to detect these Wildmere
traits, and is this the cause of her antipathy? How simply she said 'I
couldn't do'--what Stella has accomplished with so much skill that the
gossips in the house are in honest doubt as to her choice, or whether,
indeed, she proposes to accept either Arnault or myself. Well, well,
I'll wait till she has had this interview with her father, and then
she must either decide for me and against such tactics forever,
or else she can wear my scalp in her belt with those of the other
unfortunates."
In an hour he was on the road with Dr. Sommers to a wild and secluded
valley.