Certainly Hortense Rieppe would have won the battle of Chattanooga!
I know not from which parent that young woman inherited her gift of
strategy, but she was a master. To use the resources of one lover
in order to ascertain if another lover had any; to lay tribute on
everything that Charley possessed; on his influence in the business
world, which enabled him to walk into the V-C Chemical Company’s office
and borrow an expert in the phosphate line; on his launch in which to
pop the expert and take him up the river, and see in his company and
learn from his lips just what resources of worldly wealth were likely to
be in-store for John Mayrant; and finally (which was the key to all
the rest) on his inveterate passion for her, on his banker-like
determination through all the thick and thin of discouragement, and
worse than discouragement, of contemptuous coquetry, to possess her at
any cost he could afford;--to use all this that Charley had, in order
that she might judiciously arrive at the decision whether she would take
him or his rival, left one lost in admiration. And then, not to waste
a moment! To reach town one evening, and next morning by ten o’clock
to have that expert safe in the launch on his way up the river to the
phosphate diggings! The very audacity of such unscrupulousness commanded
my respect: successful dishonor generally wins louder applause than
successful virtue. But to be married to her! Oh! not for worlds! Charley
might meet such emergency, but poor John, never!
I nearly walked into Mrs. Weguelin and Mrs. Gregory taking their
customary air slowly in South Place.
“But why a steel wasp?” I said at once to Mrs. Weguelin. It was a more
familiar way of beginning with the little, dignified lady than would
have been at all possible, or suitable, if we had not had that little
joke about the piano snobile between us. As it was, she was not wholly
displeased. These Kings Port old ladies grew, I suspect, very slowly
and guardedly accustomed to any outsider; they allowed themselves very
seldom to suffer any form of abruptness from him, or from any one, for
that matter. But, once they were reassured as to him, then they might
sometimes allow the privileged person certain departures from their
own rule of deportment, because his conventions were recognized to be
different from theirs. Moreover, in reminding Mrs. Weguelin of the steel
wasp, I had put my abruptness in “quotations,” so to speak, by the
tone I gave it, just as people who are particular in speech can often
interpolate a word of current slang elegantly by means of the shade of
emphasis which they lay upon it.
So Mrs. Weguelin smiled and her dark eyes danced a little. “You remember
I said that, then?”
“I remember everything that you said.”
“How much have you seen of the creature?” demanded Mrs. Gregory, with
her head pretty high.
“Well, I’m seeing more, and more, and more every minute. She’s rather
endless.”
Mrs. Weguelin looked reproachful. “You surely cannot admire her, too?”
Mrs. Gregory hadn’t understood me. “Oh, if you really can keep her away,
you’re welcome!”
“I only meant,” I explained to the ladies, “that you don’t really begin
to see her till you have seen her: it’s afterward, when you’re out of
reach of the spell.” And I told them of the interview which I had not
been able to tell to Miss Josephine and Miss Eliza. “I doubt if it
lasted more than four minutes,” I assured them.
“Up the river?” repeated Mrs. Gregory
“At the landing,” I repeated. And the ladies consulted each other’s
expressions. But that didn’t bother me any more.
“And you can admire her?” Mrs. Weguelin persisted.
“May I tell you exactly, precisely?”
“Oh, do!” they both exclaimed.
“Well, I think many wise men would find her immensely desirable--as
somebody else’s wife!”
At this remark Mrs. Weguelin dropped her eyes, but I knew they were
dancing beneath their lids. “I should not have permitted myself to say
that, but I am glad that it has been said.”
Mrs. Gregory turned to her companion. “Shall we call to-morrow?”
“Don’t you feel it must be done?” returned Mrs. Weguelin, and then she
addressed me. “Do you know a Mr. Beverly Rodgers?”