SEVERAL evenings later, a banquet was given to a party of
Russian notables. As no young people were invited, Augusta, chaperoned
by her father’s sister, Mrs. Van Rhuys, arranged a theatre party, which
included the English Duke.
As Mrs. Forbes stood between her mirrors that evening, she wondered if
she had ever looked more lovely. She wore a gown of ivory white satin,
so thick that it creaked, and entirely without trimming, save for the
lace on the bust. But about the waist, one end hanging almost to the
hem of the gown was a ribbon of large pigeon-blood rubies. A collar
of the same gems lay at the base of her long round throat. Above her
brow blazed a great star, the points set with diamonds, radiating from
a massive ruby. A smaller star clasped the lace at her breast. The
bracelets on her arms, the rings on her fingers, sparkled pink and
white.
Her lips parted slightly. She thrilled with triumph, intoxicated
with her beauty and magnificence. For this woman could never become
_blasé_, never cease to be vital, until the shroud claimed her.
Nevertheless, she felt unaccountably nervous. She had felt so all day.
“I am quite well, am I not, mammy?” she said to an old negro woman who
sat regarding her with rapt admiration. The negress had been Virginia’s
nurse and personal attendant for thirty-nine years. Only the ocean--for
which she had an unsurmountable horror--had separated them. In Augusta
she had never taken the slightest interest, but over her idolized
mistress she exercised an austere vigilance. And as she was a good
old-fashioned doctor, and understood Mrs. Forbes’ constitution as had
it been a diagram of straight lines, she was always on the alert to
checkmate nature, and rarely unsuccessful.
“You sut’n’y is, honey,” she replied. “You never was pearter. No wonder
you git ’cited sometimes with all dose purty things that cos’ such
heaps and heaps o’ money. Yo’ uster go wild over yore toys, and you
al’ays will be de same.”
It was not yet eight and Mrs. Forbes seated herself lightly on the old
woman’s knee. At that moment Augusta entered the room.
“Mother!” she exclaimed in a disgusted voice. “Do get up. I declare you
are nothing but a big overgrown baby. If it isn’t papa it’s mammy, and
if it isn’t mammy it’s papa.”
“I suppose you can get through life without coddling,” replied her
mother, undisturbed; “but I can’t. You look remarkably well this
evening.”
“Thanks.” Miss Forbes regarded herself complacently in the mirror. She
wore black and pink and there was colour in her face. “I’m no beauty,
but I think I do look rather well, and this frock is certainly a
stunning fit. You are a vision as usual. There is the carriage.”
Mrs. Forbes rose and the maid enveloped her in a long mantle of white
velvet lined with ermine. The old negress adjusted the inner flap over
the chest and wrapped a lace scarf about the softly-dressed hair.
“You is a leetle nervous, honey,” she said. “Has anything put yo’ out?
Don’t you tetch one bit o’ sweets to-night and not a drap o’ coffee.”
“I’ll have it out when we come home, and get it over,” thought Mrs.
Forbes as she went down the stair and smiled to her husband, who
awaited her in the hall below. “That is what is making me so nervous.”
Mr. Forbes, like many New York millionaires, had spread his house
over all the land he could buy in one spot on The Avenue, and there
was no _porte cochère_. When his wife was obliged to go out in
stormy weather an awning was erected between the front doors and the
curb-stone. To-night it was snowing heavily. As she appeared on the
stair two men-servants opened the doors and flung a carpet from the
threshold to the carriage-step. If Virginia Forbes had ever wet her
boots or slippers she could not recall the occasion.
She was the sensation of the dinner and of the reception afterward.
The foreigners stood about her in a rivetted cluster, and with the
extravagance of their kind assured her that there was no woman in
Europe at once so beautiful and so clever. She took their flatteries
for what they were worth; they could have salaamed before her without
turning her head; but she revelled in the adulation, nevertheless.
Mr. Forbes had two important letters to write when they returned home,
and she went with him to the library. As he took the chair before his
desk she got him a fresh pen, then poured him some whisky from the
decanter. She was as fresh as when she had left the house, and he
looked at her with passionate admiration.
“I should like to be able to tell you how proud I was of you to-night,”
he said. “Sometimes I believe that you are really the most splendid
creature on earth.”
“That is what those princelings were telling me,” she said, rumpling
his hair. “But you flatter me much more, for I may suspect that you
mean it.”
“Well, sit where I can’t see you or I sha’n’t do much writing. Don’t
go, though.”
She took an easy chair by the fire, but although she lay in its depths
and put her little feet on a low pouf, she drew the long rope of jewels
nervously through her fingers. Once or twice her breath came short, and
then she clasped the rubies so closely that the setting dented her skin.
“I must, must brace up,” she thought. “Unless I am at my best I shall
be no match for him, and I must win in the first round or it will be a
long hard fight that I may not be equal to. Besides, I should hate it.”
She was glad to have the interview in the library, her husband’s
favourite room. It was a long narrow room, lined to the ceiling with
the books of seven generations: Mr. Forbes came of a line of men that
had been noted for mental activity in one wise or another since England
had civilized America. There were busts and bas-reliefs of great men,
and many pieces of old carved furniture. The curtains, carpet, and easy
chairs were lit with red, and very luxurious. The mantel was of black
onyx. Above it was a portrait of Mrs. Forbes by Sargeant. The great
artist protested that he had interpreted “the very sky and sea-line of
her soul.” Certain it is that he had chosen to see only that which was
noble and alluring. Imperious pride was in the poise of the head, the
curve of the short upper lip; but it was the unself-conscious pride of
race and the _autorité_ of a lovely woman which all men delighted
to foster. The eyes, sensuous, tender, expectant, were the eyes of a
woman who had loved one man only, and that man with fond reiteration.
The lower lip was full, the mouth slightly parted. The brow was so
clear that it seemed to shed radiance. It uplifted the face, as if the
soul dwelt there, at home with the vigorous brain.
Some thin white stuff was folded closely over the small low bust. A
string of large pearls was wound in and out of the heavy hair, whose
living warmth the artist had not failed to transfer. Indeed, warmth,
life, passion, soul, intelligence seemed to emanate from this wonderful
portrait, so combined by the limner as to convey an impression of
modern womanhood perfected, satisfied, triumphant, to which the world
could give no more, and from which the passing years would hesitate to
steal aught. Sometimes Virginia Forbes stood and regarded it sadly. “It
is an ideal me,” she would think, “all that I should like to be--that
I might--were it not for this trowelful of clay in my soul.” Although
Mr. Forbes was too keen a student of human nature to be ignorant of his
wife’s faults, his faith was so strong in the large full side of her
nature that he had long since felt justified in closing his eyes to
all that fell below the ideal.
He wrote for an hour, then threw the pen down, rose, and ran his
fingers through his hair.
“Thank heaven that is over. I can sleep in peace. How good of you to
wait for me. Are you very tired?”
“No,” she said, and unconsciously her lips lost their fulness, and she
clutched the stones so tightly that they bruised her flesh. “Will you
sit down, Ned, dear? I want to talk to you.”
“Is anything the matter?” he asked anxiously. “You’ve lost your colour
since you came in. I am afraid you go too hard. New York is a killing
place. Shall we go to Asheville for a week or two?”
“I never felt better. Sit down--there--where I can see you; and light a
cigar. I am going to speak of something very important. You won’t like
what I say--at first; but I am sure you will when I have finished.”
He sat down, much puzzled. “I don’t want to smoke, and I’m afraid
something has gone wrong with you. Have you been investing and lost?
You know that I never ask what you do with your money, and if you are
short all you have to do is to ask for more.”
“You know that I never would invest money without your advice; and I
have scarcely touched this year’s income. It is about Augusta.”
Mr. Forbes raised his brows. “Augusta? She doesn’t want to take to the
public platform, I hope.”
“She is in love.”
“What? Our calm, superior--with whom, for heaven’s sake?”
“With the Duke of Bosworth.”
Mr. Forbes sat forward in his chair, pressing his hands upon its arms.
The blood rose slowly and covered his face. “The Duke of Bosworth!” he
ejaculated. “Do you mean to tell me that our daughter, and a girl who
is American to her finger-tips, has had her head turned by a title?”
“It is not the title, Ned; it is the man----”
“Impossible! The man? Why, he’s not a man. He’s--but I don’t choose to
express to you or to any woman what I think of him. I never set up to
be a saint; I went the pace with other men before I married you; but
in my opinion the best thing that remnants like Bosworth can do is to
get into the family vault as quickly as possible and leave no second
edition behind them. He’ll leave none of my blood.”
“You misjudge him, dear; I am sure you do. I have talked much with him.
He is very intelligent, and, I think, would be glad to live his life
over. It is his delicate physique that gives him the appearance of a
wreck.”
“Excuse me. I have seen men of delicate physique all my life. I am also
a man of the world. Sooner than have that puny demoralised creature
the father of my grandchildren, I should gladly see Augusta spend her
life alone--happy as we have been. I cannot understand it. She must be
hypnotised. And you, Virginia! I am ashamed of you. I cannot believe
that you have encouraged her. You, the cleverest and most sensible
woman I have ever known! Do you wish to see your daughter the wife of
that man?”
“I should not if she were like some girls. But she has little sentiment
and ideality. She is a strong masculine character, just the type to
give new life and stamina to the decaying houses of the old world.
She is not as clever as she thinks, but at thirty she will know her
limitations and be a very level-headed well-balanced woman. She will
shed no tears over the Duke’s defections, and you know what Darwin says
about the children of strong mothers and dissipated eldest sons. I am
sure that Augusta’s children will not disgrace you.”
“What you say sounds well: I never yet knew you to fail to make out a
good case when driven to a corner; but this miserable man’s children
will not be my grandchildren.”
“Ned, you are so prejudiced. You are such a rampant American.”
“I am, I hope. And you know perfectly well that I am not prejudiced.
I know many members of the British peerage for whom I have hearty
liking and respect. Some of the best brains the world has ever known
have belonged to the English aristocracy. But this whelp--if he were
the son of as good an American as I am do you think it would make
any difference? And if he were worthy of his blood he could have my
daughter and welcome.”
Mrs. Forbes had controlled herself inflexibly, but she was conscious
of increasing excitement. Her eyes looked as hard and brilliant as the
jewels upon her. Her hands trembled as she played with her rope of
rubies. She recognised that he was conclusive; that it would be worse
than folly to resort to endearment and cajolery, even could she bring
herself to the mood. But before such uncompromising opposition her
ambition cemented and controlled her, was near to torching reason and
judgment. She would not trust herself to speak for a moment, but looked
fixedly at her husband.
“I thought this little fortune-hunter was engaged to Mabel Creighton,”
he said abruptly.
“That was all a mistake----”
“He found out that Creighton was in a hole, I suppose. Virginia!--it
is not possible?--you did not tell him?--you have not been scheming to
bring about this damnable transaction?”
“Of course I did not tell him. I wish you wouldn’t screw up your eyes
like that at me. I saw before he had been here a week that he had
fallen in love with Augusta----”
“Love be damned! Do you imagine a man like that loves?”
“Well, liked then. Of course he cannot afford to marry without
money----”
“And I am expected to buy him, I suppose?”
“Don’t be so coarse! Now listen to me, Ned. _I_ want this
match. Of course I should not move in the matter if I did not respect
the Duke, and if Augusta didn’t love him as much as she is capable
of loving. But I want this English alliance--and there may never be
another opportunity. I will state the fact plainly--it would give me
the greatest possible satisfaction to know that my position was as
assured in England as it is in America----”
“Good God! What is the matter with you American women? If you sat down
and worked it out, could you tell why you are all so mad about the
English nobility? Or wouldn’t you blush if you could? As I said the
other day it is a germ disease--a species of brain-poisoning. It eats
and rots. It demoralises like morphine and alcohol. After a woman has
once let herself go, she is good for nothing else for the rest of her
life. She eats, drinks, sleeps, thinks English aristocracy. Even you,
if I gave you your head, would find it in you to become a veritable
coronet-chaser--you!--my God! Well, it won’t be in my time; and if
Augusta runs off with this debased dishonoured little wretch she’ll
not get one cent of mine. And there will be no breaking of wills; I’ll
dispose of my fortune before I die. I shall take good care to let him
know this at once, for I make no doubt he’s desperate----”
Mrs. Forbes sprang to her feet. “You never spoke so to me before,” she
cried furiously. “I do not believe you love me. So long as I spend
my life studying your wishes--and I have studied them for twenty-two
years--you are amiable and charming enough; but now that your wife and
daughter want something that you don’t wish to give them, that doesn’t
happen to suit your fancy, you turn upon me in your true character of
a tyrant----”
“Virginia! hush!” said Mr. Forbes sternly. “I have done nothing of the
sort. You are talking like a petulant child. Come here and tell me that
you will think no more of this wretched business----”
He went forward, but she moved rapidly aside.
“Don’t touch me,” she said. “I am not in the mood to be touched. And I
shall never be happy again if you refuse your consent to this marriage.”
“Never be what? Has our happiness rested on so uncertain a foundation
as that? I thought that you loved me.”
“Oh, I do. Of course I do. But can’t you understand that love isn’t
everything to a woman?--any more than it is to a man? I would be
married to no other man on earth, not to a prince of the blood. But it
is not everything to me any more than it is everything to you. Suppose
you were suddenly stripped of your tremendous political influence,
of your financial power, and reduced to the mere domestic and social
round? Would I suffice? Not unless you were eighty and in need of a
nurse.”
She had drawn herself up to her full commanding height. Her head was
thrown back, her nostrils were distended, her lips were a scarlet
undulating line. There was no other colour in her face. It looked as
opaque, as hard as ivory. The eyes were merciless; even their brown
had lost its warmth. The jewels with which she was hung, which glowed
with deep rubescent fire on her robe and neck and brow, gave her the
appearance of an idol--an idol which had suddenly been informed with
the spirit of pitiless ambition and spurned its creator.
Mr. Forbes had turned very grey. His nostrils and lips contracted. His
teeth set. Involuntarily he glanced from the woman to the portrait. The
portrait was more alive than the woman.
“Don’t you understand?” she demanded.
“No,” he said, “I don’t think I do. At least I hope I do not. At all
events, I hope we may not discuss this subject again. I did not tell
you that I intend to pull Creighton through. I cannot see an old friend
go under. It will be to the Duke’s interest to push his suit in that
quarter--if they want him. Now, please go to your room. You are very
much excited. If you were not I hardly think you would have spoken as
you have.”
He went to the end of the room and opened the door. She passed him
quickly with averted head.