Of Carlisle's Bewilderment over all the Horrid Talk; of how
it wasn't her fault that Gossip was so Unreliable; of the
Greatest Game in the World; also, of Mr. Heth, who didn't
look like a Shameless Homicide.
The explosion that followed the boat occurrence at the Beach came as a
complete surprise to the heroine of the small affair. When she had
terminated the interview in the summer-house, she understood that she
was giving the signal for talk to cease and all trouble to proceed to
blow over. The want of cooöeration on the part of talk and trouble was
gross, to say the least of it. The tide of excited questions and comment
that poured in on and around Carlisle, upon her return to town on
Monday, resembled the breaking of flood-gates. Her small and entirely
private misadventure had become her world's sensation. And within a day
there came a climax which secretly astonished and frightened her not a
little. The primal blood-tie itself was severed for offended
righteousness' sake. The proud old widower, Colonel Dalhousie, already
sorely tried by his son's wildnesses, could not stomach his flagrant
cowardice. It was shouted about the town that he had cut Jack off with a
curse, and turned him finally out of his house.
Unplagued by the curses of imagination, Carlisle had, indeed,
anticipated nothing in the least like this. She was dazed by the
undreamed hubbub. For the first few days after her home-coming, she
remained very closely in the house, to avoid all the worrying and horrid
talk; and one day, the day Mattie Allen ran in with popping eyes to tell
her about Jack Dalhousie, she pretended to be sick and stayed in bed,
and really did feel extremely badly.
In these days of uneasiness, Carlisle wished far more than ever that
the whole thing had been started differently; and she wondered often,
and somewhat fearfully, if Dalhousie's friend, Mr. Vivian, would try to
force himself on her again. That did not happen; nothing happened; and
the more and more calmly she came to think about it all, the more
clearly the girl saw that she personally was not to blame for the
misunderstanding. It was plainly seen as one of those unfortunate
occurrences which, while regretted by all, herself as much as anybody,
you simply could not do a single thing about. And if it had seemed
impossible to rake it all up again even that night, how much more
unrakable was it now, when days had passed, and everybody had accepted
everything, for better or worse, as it was? Fate and gossip had proved
too strong. Deplorable, indeed; but it was to be, that was all.
It was very plain, of course, that all the initial excitement and pother
could not possibly last. Withhold food from gossip, and it starves and
dies. Carlisle simply stayed quiet and held her tongue; and as the days
passed without more developments of any sort, she found her
philosophical attitude thoroughly justified by events. Town-talk, that
bugbear of the delicate-minded, shot off first to the Hoover divorce,
and then to the somewhat public disagreement between the Governor of the
State and Congressman Hardwicke, at the Chamber of Commerce luncheon for
the visiting President; finally to a number of things. By the time six
weeks had passed, the Beach had dropped completely from the minds of a
fickle public. Dalhousie, it seemed, had considerately vanished. Talk
ceased. The boat trouble blew over, much as the boat had done....
About this time, namely, about the middle of the seventh week, one of
Willie Kerr's cryptic messages lay beside Mrs. Heth's breakfast plate on
a morning. It ran:
I think he will come at 5.30 o'clock
Wednesday. Better arrive first?