XV.

But Claire's doubts were soon settled. If that visit did not precisely

end them, a few succeeding days forever laid the ghost of her spleen.

Mrs. Diggs had been jocundly candid, and that was all. No baleful

sarcasms had pulsed beneath her vivacious prophecies. She soon convinced

Claire that she was a stanch and loyal confederate.

She often dropped into the Twenty-Eighth Street house, and praised its

appointments warmly. "Your little reception-room is perfect," she told

Claire, "with those dark crimson walls and that furniture so covered

with big pink roses. I like it immensely, don't you know? I wouldn't

have liked it two or three years ago; I would have thought crimson and

pink a weird discord; but fashion gives certain things their stamp; it

makes us wake up, some morning, and find our hates turned to loves."

About the dining-room, on the same floor, and the drawing-room, on the

floor above, she was genially critical. This or that detail she

discovered to be "not just quite right, don't you know?" and Claire in

nearly all such cases changed dissent into agreement after a little

serious reflection. Some of the resultant alterations involved decided

expense. This Claire regretted while she would let her husband incur it.

Hollister always did so readily enough. Wall Street had rather smiled

upon him, of late. A few of his ventures had become bolder, but

flattering successes had persistently followed them.

"The theatre is all lit," he said to her one evening, "but the curtain

doesn't rise. How is that, Claire?"

She knew perfectly well what he meant, but chose to feign that she did

not know. They had been surveying together a few decorative

improvements, recently wrought, in mantel, dado, or even table-cover.

"I don't think I follow your metaphor," said Claire. There was the tiny

outbreak of a smile at each corner of her mouth. It struck Hollister,

who was standing quite near her, that she looked delightfully prim. He

kissed her before he answered, and then, while he did so, let his lips

almost graze her ear, saying in an absurd guttural semitone, as of

melo-dramatic confidence:--

"I mean that it's time for Act First. Time for the lords and ladies to

enter, with a grand flourish of trumpets. Of course, when they do come,

they'll all kiss the hand of their charming hostess, just like this."

But she would not let him kiss her hand, though he caught it and made

the attempt.

"There are no lords and ladies in New York," she said, laughing and

receding from him at the same time. "And if they _should_ come, they

would never behave in such an old-fashioned style as that."

But though she treated them lightly, his words fed the fuel of her deep,

keen longing. She had made up her mind that Mrs. Diggs had been right.

She would never be content to take a low place. Nothing save the highest

of all would ever satisfy her.

At the same time she clearly understood that great sums of money were

needed to accomplish any such end. She spent several days of brooding

trouble. She had not great sums of money--or rather, Hollister had not.

And there seemed slight chance of her husband ever securing them.

"The season is dreadfully young yet," said Mrs. Diggs to her, the next

day, while they sat together. "There is simply nothing going on. There

are no teas, no receptions, and, of course, no balls. But we'll go and

take our drive in the Park. Do hurry and dress."

Claire dressed, but not very quickly. She kept Mrs. Diggs waiting at

least fifteen minutes. Mrs. Diggs's carriage was also waiting. It was

not at all like its owner, this carriage. It was burly and somewhat

cumbrous. The silver-harnessed horses that drew it had clipped tails and

huge auburn bodies. But the wheels of the vehicle were touched here and

there with a tasteful dash of scarlet, as if in pretty chromatic tribute

to the violent complexion of "dear Manhattan." When they were being

rolled side by side together in this easy-cushioned carriage, Mrs. Diggs

said to Claire:--

"You kept me waiting a little eternity. I hate to wait. I suppose it's

because I'm so nervous. I've been to three or four different doctors

about my nervousness. They nearly all say it's a kind of dyspepsia. But

that seems to me so ridiculous. Dyspepsia means indigestion, and I can

digest a pair of tongs--no matter at what hour I should eat it. My dear

Claire" (she had got to use this familiar address, of late), "I don't

see how you can get on without a maid. That is why you're so slow with

your bonnet and wraps; be sure it is. Oh, a maid is a wonderful

comfort."

"So is a carriage like this," said Claire, smiling.

"Yes, a carriage is indispensable, too. At least I find it so. You will

also, my dear, when you come to pay visits among a large circle of

friends."

"I'm afraid that both the maid and the carriage will be out of my reach

for a very long time yet," said Claire. "Our taking the house, you know,

was a great act of extravagance."

"Oh, your husband is doing finely in Wall Street. I have heard from

Manhattan about his brilliant strokes. Manhattan thinks him intensely

clever. His success is creating a good deal of talk, I assure you."

This was true. Hollister would now often laugh and say: "The luck seems

to be all on my side, Claire. And I don't take any very fearful risks,

either, somehow. The money isn't coming in by hundreds, at present; it

is coming in by thousands. I'm getting to be a rather important fellow;

upon my word, I am. My own dawning prominence amuses me considerably.

But it isn't turning my head the least in the world. A lot of the big

men down there are taking me up. A month ago they scarcely knew if I

existed."

Then he and Claire would talk together of the real speculative reasons

for his success; he would find that she had forgotten hardly an item of

past information; her judgments and decisions were sometimes so shrewd

that they startled him, considering how purely they were based upon

theory and hearsay. Once or twice he permitted her counsels to sway him,

though not with her secured sanction. The result turned out notably

well. He told her what he had done, and why he had done it, after the

triumph had been achieved. She was by no means flattered on discovering

the faith he had reposed in her. She even went so far as to markedly

chide him for having reposed it.

"Remember, Herbert," she said, "that I am of necessity ignorant

regarding these matters, in every practical sense. All my opinions are

quite without the value of experience. Please never take me for your

guide again. Never sell nor buy a single share because I venture the

expression of an idea on sales or purchases. I am proud and glad to

think myself the cause of your having made a lucky operation; that, of

course, I need not tell you. But I should not forgive myself for ever

leading you into disaster."

She reflected, secretly: 'How weak Herbert is! He is no doubt clear and

quick of mind, and he is of just the light-hearted, easy temperament

that has what he himself calls "nerve on the Street." But how weak he is

in his trust of _me_! Does not that show him weak in other ways? Would a

man of strong nature let his fondness ever so betray his prudence? I

must be guarded hereafter in my talks with him. I really know nothing; I

only use his knowledge to build upon. What he is doing is three quarters

mere hazard, and the rest cleverness. I see plainly that he has begun a

very precarious career. He may win in it; others have won. He may win

enormously; I am just beginning to accept his chances of doing so. But

there must be no balking and thwarting on my part. He would ruin

himself, most probably, if I proposed it. He is so weak where I am

concerned! Yes, in all such ways he is so weak!'

She could not dwell upon the fact of this weakness with any tender

feeling. She had grown to accept his love as something so natural and

ordinary that she could coldly survey as a flaw any point in its

devotion which verged upon indiscreet excess. Just at this period in her

life it sometimes struck her that she was very cold toward her husband.

But no pang of conscience accompanied the realization. She had disguised

nothing from Herbert. He knew precisely what she wished to do. He even

sympathized with her aim, and desired to abet it. She could not help

being cold. Besides, he had never offered the faintest objection to her

coldness. He evidently wanted her to be just as she was. And moreover,

she was no different at this hour, when the possibility of a great

social victory assumed definite outlines--when she was his wife and the

mistress of his household--when she was sure of sharing his fortunes

until death should end further companionship--than she had been at the

hour when he had first asked her to marry him. She had a great sense of

duty toward him. She meant to leave no obligation of wifely fealty

unfulfilled. And this determination, flinchlessly kept, must stand for

him in place of passion. She had no passion to give him. She had given

all that to her dear dead father. If he were alive, now, and dwelling

with her, what joy she would have in putting her arms about his neck,

her lips to his cheek, and telling him how the hopes whose seed he had

sown long ago might soon ripen into splendid fruit!

"You tell me that you have new adherents, new friends," she soon said to

her husband. "If any of them are people of prominence--of the sort I

would wish to know--why do you not ask them here, to our house?"

"True enough," said Hollister. "That is an idea." And then, with beaming

hesitation, he added: "But I thought you would not want them without

their wives."

Claire seemed to meditate, for a slight time. "I should not want them

without their wives," she presently said, "unless I felt sure that their

wives were the kind of women whom I would be very willing to have among

my acquaintances."

A few days later Hollister announced to Claire that he had arranged a

dinner at which some four gentlemen besides himself were to be present.

He had placed the whole affair in the hands of a noted _restaurateur_,

who assured him that it should be conducted on the most admirable plan.

"It was intended as a little surprise for you," he said. "The men are

all of the kind that I am nearly sure you will approve. I mean they are

what is called "in society." You see, I am getting quite wise with

regard to these matters. A few weeks have made a world of difference

with me. I am waking up to a sense of who is who. Before, it was all

stupid treadmill sort of work. I cared very little about associates,

connections, influence. I wanted to make both ends meet, and found the

process a rather dull one. Now I am in a wholly different frame of mind.

I am beginning to amuse myself as much by the study of men as by the

study of stocks. I have several distinct adherents, several more

distinct supporters, and one or two would-be patrons. I don't think I

was ever unpopular on the Street; I was simply unimportant. But now that

I'm important I have got to be quite popular.... I dare say the whole

thing is attributable to yourself, Claire. You've pricked me into life.

I was torpid till I met and knew you."

She was considerably alarmed about the plan of the dinner-party. She was

not at all sure if it would be in good style for Hollister to give it

with herself as the only lady present. As soon as circumstances

permitted, she hastened to consult with Mrs. Diggs.

"Oh, it's all right," decided the oracle. "You are always certain of

being correct form if you do anything like that in company with your

husband. But, my dear Claire, it is too bad that you couldn't find three

more ladies besides yourself and me. You see, I invite myself

provisionally, so to speak. Isn't it dreadful of me? But then I take

such an interest in you that I want to be present, don't you know, at

the laying of your corner-stone. Manhattan ought to be asked, too, dear

fellow; it's etiquette, don't you know? But then you need not mind, this

once."

"I wish that I knew three more ladies," said Claire, thoughtfully.

"Yes ... that would make a dinner of just ten. A dinner of ten is so

charming. Mr. Hollister wouldn't object, would he?"