Within two weeks of Lewis's departure for South America, Leighton
returned from his shooting-trip. Despite the fact that he had not
written telling Lewis he was coming, he felt a great chagrin at finding
the flat deserted except for the ever-faithful Nelton.
"Where's the boy?" was Leighton's first question. Even as he stepped
across the threshold he felt that he stepped into an empty house.
"South America," said Nelton, relieving his master of hat, stick, and
gloves.
"South America!" cried Leighton, dismayed, and then smiled. "Well, he's
getting his dad's tricks early. What for?"
"Don't know, sir. Mr. Lewis said as you'd get it from her ladyship."
Lady Derl was out of town. Leighton followed her, stayed two days,
decided her momentary entourage was not to his taste, and returned to
London. He reached the flat in the afternoon, just in time to receive a
caller. The caller was Vi.
"Hallo!" said Leighton as Nelton showed her in, "this is fortune. Take
off your things and stay."
"I will--some of them," drawled Vi; "but not just yet." She sat down.
"What on earth are you doing in town?" asked Leighton.
"Well," said Vi, "up to three weeks ago I was here at the beck and call
of your son. Then he suddenly took French leave." She turned and faced
Leighton. "Where has he gone? It isn't like one of you to be rude in
little things."
"I don't think Lew meant to be rude," said Leighton. "He's gone to South
America. He heard about some cousins he 'd lost track of, and he just
bolted the next morning."
"Cousins!" said Vi. "I didn't know any one still went in for family ties
to the extent of South America, short of a fat death."
"No," said Leighton, smiling; there's no money in this trip. Why were
you at his beck and call?"
"Model," said Vi, coolly. "He's been doing me."
"Doing _you_!" said Leighton, looking at her curiously.
"There, there," said Vi, "don't let your imagination run away with you.
Not in the nude. By the way, can you let me have the key? I left
something in the studio, and I didn't like to go to Nelton."
"Certainly," said Leighton. "I'll walk by there with you."
Vi gave a shrug of protest, but Leighton's back was already turned. He
fetched the key, and together they walked over to Lewis's atelier. When
they had climbed the stairs and were at the door, Vi said a little
breathlessly and without a drawl:
"Do you mind very much not coming in? I won't be but a minute."
Leighton glanced at her, surprised. "Not at all," he said, and handed
her the key. He took out a cigarette and lit it as she opened the door
and closed it behind her. He started pacing up and down the bare hall.
Presently he grew impatient, and glanced at his watch; then he stopped
short in his tracks. From behind the closed door came unmistakably the
sound of a woman sobbing.
Leighton did not hesitate. He threw open the door and walked in. Except
for Vi, curled up in a little heap on the couch, the atelier was very
still, vast, somber. In its center shone a patch of light. In the patch
of light, on a low working pedestal, stood a statue. On the floor were a
tumbled cloth and a fallen screen. Leighton stood stock-still and
stared.
The sculptured figure was that of a woman veiled in draperies that were
merely suggested. Her face, from where Leighton stood, was turned away.
Her right arm was half outstretched, her left hung at her side, but it
was peculiarly turned, as though to draw the watcher on. Then there was
the left thigh. Once the eye fell on that, all else was forgotten. Into
this sinking sweep had gone all the artist's terrific force of
expression and suggestion. No live man would have thought of the figure
as "Woman Leading the Way," once his eyes had fallen on that thigh. To
such a one the statue named itself with a single flash to the brain, and
the name it spoke was "Invitation."
Leighton's first impulse was one of unbounded admiration--the admiration
we give to unbounded power. Then realization and a frown began to come
slowly to his face. Vi, crumpled up on the couch, and sobbing hard, dry
sobs,--the sobs that bring age,---helped him to realization. Lewis, his
boy, had done a base thing.
Without moving, Leighton glanced about the room till his eyes fell on
the mallet. Then he stepped quickly to it, picked it up, and crossed to
the statue. Beneath his quick blows the brittle clay fell from the
skeleton wires in great, jagged chunks. With his foot he crushed a few
of them to powder. He tossed the mallet aside, and glanced at Vi. She
was still crying, but she had half risen at the sound of his blows, and
was staring at him through wet eyes.
Leighton started walking up and down, the frown still on his brow.
Finally he came to a stop before the couch.
"Vi," he said--"Vi, listen! You must tell me something. It isn't a fair
question, but never mind that."
She lifted a tear-stained face.
"Vi," said Leighton, tensely, "did he follow?"
Vi raised herself on her arms and stared at him for a moment before she
gasped:
"You fool, do you suppose I would have cared if he had followed?" Then
shame gripped her, and she threw herself full-length again, face down.
Her shoulders shook, but she made no sound.
Leighton waited half an hour. He spent the time walking up and down and
smoking cigarettes. He was no longer frowning. At the end of the
half-hour he caught Vi by the arms and lifted her to her feet.
"Come on," he said.
Vi stared at him as one half-awakened.
"I don't want to go anywhere," she said. "I'm very well here."
"Nonsense!" said Leighton, "you don't realize what you're doing to
yourself. On my word, you look positively puttyish."
"Puttyish!" cried Vi, a flush of anger rising to her face. "Grapes,
you're brutal! Since when have you learned to trample on a woman?"
"That's better," said Leighton, coolly. "I thought it would rouse you a
bit."
Vi almost smiled at herself. She laid her hand on Leighton's arm and
turned him toward the door.
"And they still say that no man knows women," she said. She paused and
looked back at the fragments of the statue. Her lips twisted. "Even
boys," she added, "pick out our naked souls and slap them in our faces."
As they walked slowly toward the flat, Vi said:
"I know why you had to ask that question. I'm glad you did. You were
misjudging Lew. But you can be sure of one thing: no one but us three
ever saw that statue; I know now that no one but just Lew and myself
were ever meant to see it. He didn't want to model me that way. When I
asked for it, he hesitated, then suddenly he gave in." She paused for a
moment, then she added, "I believe it's part of a man's job to know when
to trample on women."