That summer she did not have to mope by herself in the empty Hall. The
little Mexican carried her away for a long visit to her distant home.
The trouble in Morelos had temporarily subsided, so that Senor Merelda
felt that it was safe to gather his large family at the hacienda. The
journey, which the two girls made alone as far as St. Louis, where
Diane's elder brother met them, was the first view of the large world
that Adelle had ever had. They were both filled with the excitements of
their journey so that even Adelle's pale cheeks glowed with a happy
sense of the mystery of living. This ecstasy was somewhat broken by the
presence of Carlos, a gentlemanly enough young man; but Adelle was
afraid of all men. She failed also to assimilate the strange sights that
she encountered south of St. Louis. The journey became a jumble in her
memory of heat and red sunsets and dirty Indians and stuffy dining-cars.
But Morelos itself made a more lasting impression upon her little mind.
There was, first of all, the strange landscape, dominated by the snowy
peak of Popocatepetl, the sugar-fields, and the drowsy languor of the
little town, and then there was the family life of the Mereldas at the
hacienda. That was both delightful and queer to Adelle. Instead of one
"queer" person to whom she had become accustomed, there were half a
dozen odd human beings in the persons of Senor and Senora Merelda and
the older boys and girls. They all spoke all the time as did Diane,
about everything and nothing. They seemed to care warmly for one
another, yet quarreled like children over nothings. Young Carlos, who
was at a technical school, made violent love to Adelle. It was the first
time that a boy had looked at her twice even under compulsion, and it
bewildered and troubled Adelle until she perceived that it was all a
joke, a "queer" way of expressing courtesy to a stranger.
"It would not be polite," Diane explained demurely, "if Carlos did not
make the bear to my friend."
So Adelle got over her fright when the youth uttered strange speeches
and tried to take her hand. She even felt a faint pleasure in thus
becoming of a new importance.
"Of course," Diane remarked sagely, "Carlos cannot marry yet--he is
still in school. But he will marry soon--why not you?... You are so very
rich. I should like Carlos to marry a rich girl and my friend, too ..."
And with a little sigh,--"It must be pleasant to be so rich as you!"
From which it will be seen that the little Mexican had also become
somewhat corrupted by her year at Herndon Hall.
Adelle had not yet found out fully how nice it was to be rich, but she
was learning fast. To be able to attract the attentions of agreeable
young men like Carlos Merelda was another of the virtues of her magic
lamp that she had never thought of before. Although she had no idea of
taking Carlos's courtship seriously, she thought all the better of
herself for this extra magnetism which her money gave her person. The
kindliness of the Mereldas and their Mexican circle to the little
American was due largely to her being a good friend of their Diane and
also their guest, but it made Adelle grow in her own estimation. At
present life seemed to consist in a gradual unfolding to her of the
meaning of her new power, and a consequent enlargement of her egotism.
That is unfortunately one of the commonest properties of
wealth,--stimulating egotism,--and it takes much experience or an
extraordinary nature to counteract this unhealthy stimulus. For the
ordinary nature it is impossible to live day after day, year in and year
out, under the powerful external stimulus of riches, without confounding
the outer source of power with an innate virtue.
But with our Adelle, by the time her visit had come to an end, her new
education had got merely to the point where she had the self-interest
and assurance of the ordinary American girl of twelve. That Church
Street experience had chastened her. But if her education was to
continue at the present rate, she was likely to become selfish,
egotistical, and purse-proud in a few years. As yet it had not made her
unpleasant, merely given her a little needed confidence in her own
being.
She chose to make the long journey homewards by water from Vera Cruz to
New York in charge of the captain of the vessel. For Senor Merelda,
after the harassing activities of political warfare and its pecuniary
drains, did not feel able to send his daughter back to Herndon Hall. So
the two friends kissed and parted at Vera Cruz, Diane shedding all the
tears. They expected to meet again before long, and of course agreed to
write frequently. But life never again brought Adelle in contact with
the warm-hearted little Latin, who had first held out to her the olive
branch of human sympathy.
Adelle was met at the dock by "Rosy," who had with her "the two Pols"
and Eveline Glynn at whose country home they were staying. "Rosy," as
well as her schoolmates, was agreeably surprised by Adelle's appearance
after her summer in Mexico. Nature was tardily asserting herself; Adelle
was becoming a woman,--a small, delicate, pale little creature, whose
rounding bust under her white dress gave her the dainty atmosphere of an
early spring flower, fragile and frigid, but full of charm for some
connoisseurs of human beauty. She had also acquired in Mexico a note of
her own, which was perhaps due to the clothes she had bought in Mexico
City on her way home, of filmy fabric and prominent colors; and her
usually taciturn speech had taken on a languorous slowness in imitation
of the Mereldas' way of speaking English. In the drawling manner in
which she said,--"Hello, Rosy," and nonchalantly accepted Miss Glynn's
invitation for the intervening days before school opened, the new Adelle
was revealed. The girls exchanged glances. And "Rosy" whispered Irene
Paul,--"Our little Adelle is coming on." To which the California girl
replied with a chuckle,--"Didn't I tell you she was a good old sport?"
Adelle, overhearing this, felt an almost vivid sense of pride.
But as yet hers was only a very little air, which was quickly wilted by
the oppressive luxury of the Glynns' country-place--one of those large,
ostentatious establishments that Americans are wont to start before they
know how, and where consequently the elaborate domestic machinery
creaks. There were men-servants of different nationalities, ladies'
maids, and a houseful of guests coming and going as in a private hotel.
Adelle shrank into the obscurest corner and her anemonelike charm,
tentatively putting forth, was quite lost in the scramble. Beechwood was
a much less genial home than the slipshod Mexican hacienda of the
Mereldas and nobody paid any attention to the shy girl. Eveline Glynn,
who expected in another year to be free from school, was too much
occupied with her own flirtations to bother herself about her chance
guest. Adelle, being left to her usual occupation of silent observation,
managed to absorb a good deal at Beechwood in four days, chiefly of the
machinery of modern wealth. There were the elaborate meals, the
drinking, the card-playing, the motors, the innumerable servants, and
the sickening atmosphere of inane sentimentalism between the sexes.
Everybody seemed to be having "an affair," and the talk was redolent of
innuendo. Adelle had occasion to observe the potency of her lamp in this
society. She worked it first upon the waiting-woman assigned to her, to
whom she gave a large fee and who coached her devotedly in the ways of
the house and supplied her with the gossip. It also brought her the
annoying attentions of a middle-aged man, to whom her hostess had
confided that the dumb little Clark girl was "awful rich."
At the end of the visit the girls went back to New York, under the
chaperonage of "Rosy," to equip themselves for the school term, staying
at a great new hotel, and here Adelle's corruption by her wealth was
continued at an accelerated pace. The four girls flitted up and down the
Avenue, buying and ordering what they would. There were definite limits
to the purse of the Californians, but Adelle, perceiving the distinction
to be had from free spending, ordered with a splendid indifference to
price or amount. She won the admiration of her friends by the ease with
which she gave her name and address. Adelle was in fact a little
frightened by her own extravagance, but persisted with a child's
curiosity to find out the limit of her magic lamp. She did not reach it,
however. Mr. Crane at her request had opened an account for her at the
trust company's correspondent on upper Fifth Avenue, and apparently it
was of a size that produced respect in the heart of the shopkeeper.
All these purchases, the clothes and the jewelry and the other rubbish
that the girl bought, gave her no special pleasure, gratified no
desires: she did not know what she could do with half the things at
Herndon Hall. What gave her keen pleasure was the prestige of lavish
spending.... After a debauch of theaters and dinners and shopping, the
four girls were again taken in tow by the sophisticated "Rosy" and went
up the river to Herndon Hall for Adelle's third year of boarding-school.