My hostess kept it so. “Since John Mayrant was fifteen he has had many
loves; and for myself, knowing him and believing in him as I do, I feel
confident that he will make no connection distasteful to the family when
he really comes to marry.”
This time I gasped outright. “But--the cake!--next Wednesday!”
She made, with her small white hand, a slight and slighting gesture.
“The cake is not baked yet, and we shall see what we shall see.” From
this onward until the end a pinkness mounted in her pale, delicate
cheeks, and deep, strong resentment burned beneath her discreetly
expressed indiscretions. “The cake is not baked, and I, at least, am not
solicitous. I tell my cousin, Mrs. Gregory St. Michael, that she must
not forget it was merely his phosphates. That girl would never have
looked at John Mayrant had it not been for the rumor of his phosphates.
I suppose some one has explained to you her pretensions of birth. Away
from Kings Port she may pass for a native of this place, but they come
from Georgia. It cannot be said that she has met with encouragement
from us; she, however, easily recovers from such things. The present
generation of young people in Kings Port has little enough to remind us
of what we stood for in manners and customs, but we are not accountable
for her, nor for her father. I believe that he is called a general. His
conduct at Chattanooga was conspicuous for personal prudence. Both of
them are skillful in never knowing poor people--but the Northerners
they consort with must really be at a loss how to bestow their money.
Of course, such Northerners cannot realize the difference between Kings
Port and Georgia, and consequently they make much of her. Her features
do undoubtedly possess beauty. A Newport woman--the new kind--has even
taken her to Worth! And yet, after all, she has remained for John. We
heard a great deal of her men, too. She took care of that, of course.
John Mayrant actually followed her to Newport.
“But,” I couldn’t help crying out, “I thought he was so poor!”
“The phosphates,” my hostess explained. “They had been discovered on his
land. And none of her New York men had come forward. So John rushed
back happy.” At this point a very singular look came over the face of
my hostess, and she continued: “There have been many false reports (and
false hopes in consequence) based upon the phosphate discoveries. It was
I who had to break it to him--what further investigation had revealed.
Poor John!”
“He has, then, nothing?” I inquired.
“His position in the Custom House, and a penny or two from his mother’s
fortune.”
“But the cake?” I now once again reminded her.
My hostess lifted her delicate hand and let it fall. Her resentment at
the would-be intruder by marriage still mounted. “Not even from that
pair would I have believed such a thing possible!” she exclaimed; and
she went into a long, low, contemplative laugh, looking not at me, but
at the fire. Our silent companion continued to embroider. “That girl,”
my hostess resumed, “and her discreditable father played on my nephew’s
youth and chivalry to the tune of--well, you have heard the tune.”
“You mean--you mean--?” I couldn’t quite take it in.
“Yes. They rattled their poverty at him until he offered and they
accepted.”
I must have stared grotesquely now. “That--that--the cake--and that sort
of thing--at his expense?
“My dear sir, I shall be glad if you can find me anything that they have
ever done at their own expense!”
I doubt if she would ever have permitted her speech such freedom had
not the Rieppes been “from Georgia”; I am sure that it was anger--family
anger, race anger--which had broken forth; and I think that her
silent, severe sister scarcely approved of such breaking forth to me,
a stranger. But indignation had worn her reticence thin, and I had
happened to press upon the weak place. After my burst of exclamation I
came back to it. “So you think Miss Rieppe will get out of it?”
“It is my nephew who will ‘get out of it,’ as you express it.”
I totally misunderstood her. “Oh!” I protested stupidly. “He doesn’t
look like that. And it takes all meaning from the cake.”
“Do not say cake to me again!” said the lady, smiling at last.
“And--will you allow me to tell you that I do not need to have my
nephew, John Mayrant, explained to me by any one? I merely meant to say
that he, and not she, is the person who will make the lucky escape. Of
course, he is honorable--a great deal too much so for his own good. It
is a misfortune, nowadays, to be born a gentleman in America. But, as
I told you, I am not solicitous. What she is counting on--because
she thinks she understands true Kings Port honor, and does not in the
least--is his renouncing her on account of the phosphates--the bad
news, I mean. They could live on what he has--not at all in her way,
though--and besides, after once offering his genuine, ardent, foolish
love--for it was genuine enough at the time--John would never--”
She stopped; but I took her up. “Did I understand you to say that his
love was genuine at the lime?”
“Oh, he thinks it is now--insists it is now! That is just precisely what
would make him--do you not see?--stick to his colors all the closer.”
“Goodness!” I murmured. “What a predicament!”
But my hostess nodded easily. “Oh, no. You will see. They will all see.”
I rose to take my leave; my visit, indeed, had been, for very interest,
prolonged beyond the limits of formality--my hostess had attended quite
thoroughly to my being entertained. And at this point the other, the
more severe and elderly lady, made her contribution to my entertainment.
She had kept silence, I now felt sure, because gossip was neither
her habit nor to her liking. Possibly she may have also felt that her
displeasure had been too manifest; at any rate, she spoke out of her
silence in cold, yet rich, symmetrical tones.
“This, I understand, is your first visit to Kings Port?”