"I have. It's a woman's business to notice such things. Otherwise,
she'll find herself in trouble.... Inclination is a silly guide, Jack."
"For me?"
"For--us both.... I will be frank with you all the way through. I do
like you. I enjoy our tete-a-tetes. They are perfectly honest and
harmless, and without significance--the significance, alas, that others
will surely attach to them.... It isn't that there's anything wrong
with you and me, Jack.... It's the World that is wrong.... But--it's
the World; and you and I must conform to its prejudices as long as we
inhabit it--at least _I_ must."
"I suppose you must," he said. Then, leaning a little nearer, he took
her hand, held it lightly across his palm, looked at it a moment, then
at her.
"Will you let me tell father and mother that I am in love with you, and
wish to marry you?" he said.
"Jack!" she exclaimed in consternation.
"Will you let me?"
"No, I won't! ... Jack! Don't be foolish. I had no idea you had arrived
as far as that. I had no reason to think so--to suppose for one
moment--because it has always been the jolliest and most
unsentimental--and--you never even touched me before."
Her color brightened, and her breath came irregularly. She tried to
laugh, and failed.
"You know perfectly well that they have other ambitions for you."
"I know.... How is it with you, Silvette?"
"With me? What do you mean?"
"Could you care for me?"
"I--I haven't even thought about such a--I haven't really, Jack. You
know that, don't you? You must try to look back on our very brief
friendship--try to recollect how brief it has been--try to
remember--remember how happy and amusing and confident that friendship
has been--with no suspicion of sentiment to embarrass or vex----"
"I know.... Isn't there any hope for me?"
"Hope? No.... Don't put it that way, Jack.... I _don't_ love you....
I oughtn't to, and, thank Heaven, I don't. And you don't really love
me--you dear, sweet fellow! It's just part of your niceness--your
generous attitude toward a girl----"
"I'm in love with you.... But that mustn't worry you. It had to be.
You need feel no self-reproach. You didn't do anything--you were just
yourself--and I"--he laughed a little--"started in to love you as soon
as I saw you.... I'm glad you know it, anyway. We won't say anything
more about it----"
"Jack, we _will_! Do you understand that you have distressed me
dreadfully? Do you realize what a girl's responsibilities are when a
nice man loves her? Do you think she can merely shrug her shoulders and
go about her daily frivolities without another thought?"
She rose to her feet, looking at him earnestly.
"Oh, Jack! Jack!" she said, nervously clasping and unclasping her
hands; "why did you do this? Why _did_ you?"
He forced a laugh. "I won't do it again--ever," he said. "Promise you
never to fall-in-love-again-hope-I-may-die'n-cross m'heart."
But there were no smiles left in her now.
"If you don't behave," he threatened, "I'll lock us both inside and sing
songs to you!" ... But the smile died out on his face. "I was a gink to
tell you. Don't feel unhappy about it," again the engaging humor
glimmered in his eyes. "Cheer up, Silvette; you may fall in love with
me yet!"
She looked up, the smile dawning, distressed, yet sweet.
"Don't let me, Jack.... Because I'm all right, so far.... And you know
what your father wishes for you. I want to deal honorably by him."
"All right," he said quietly.
They walked slowly back to the house together, and the girl went
directly to her room, where she found her sister mending stockings.
*CHAPTER IX*
*NON SEQUITUR*
Silvette dropped into an armchair, crossed her knees, and sat swinging
her foot and gazing through the open window in silence until Diana's
head, lifted from time to time in smiling interrogation, could be no
longer ignored.
"Jack Rivett has asked me to marry him," she said in an expressionless
voice.
Diana laughed in frank surprise:
"That infant!"
"Yes."
"What an absurdity!"
Her sister said nothing.
"How did it come--out of a clear sky?"
"Yes.... I knew he liked me. I had no idea he wanted to marry me."
"You're not going to, are you?"
"No."
"I should think not. It would be sheer cradle snatching."
"He's a year older than I am."
"In years, yes; but, intellectually, he ought to be playing marbles.
Moreover, that sort of a boy _never_ grows up."
"I don't think he will.... God bestows that gift sometimes."
"What gift?"
"The gift of eternal youth.... I haven't it.... But I believe it can
be shared." She gazed thoughtfully at the distant hills. "Years and
years slip from me when that boy and I talk nonsense together."
"Better talk sense with him, and wake up, sweetness, or you'll relapse
into your second childhood."
"I have just been talking sense to him.... I'm awake," she said
dreamily.
"Do you mean to admit that the interview has seriously affected you?"
"Oh, I don't know yet."
"Better investigate," said Diana. "You know what his parents expect of
their children. And if we are to remain here, I think, dear, that you
had better see a little less of Jack Rivett than you have been seeing.
Don't you?"
"I am sure of it."
"Otherwise," continued Diana calmly, "it would be playing the game
fairer for you and me to seek another business engagement. These people
have been very honorable toward us. We can scarcely permit them to
outdo us."
Silvette looked up calmly, her cheek resting on her hand.
"How dishonorable would it be?" she asked.
"What?"
"To--let him fall in love with me?"
"Ask yourself. You know their social ambitions."
"I know; but, after all, you and I started out to make of life a
successful business proposition. I thought a desirable marriage was to
be part of the programme."
"Do you consider Jack Rivett desirable? He could take you nowhere. With
all his wealth, where could you take him? And anyway, it's not playing
the game, Silvie. It's kidnaping." She laughed. "Take a man of your
size--and of the world, little sister; and if he isn't of the world, and
is poor, defy him to take _you_!--give him battle--put up a good fight
with foot, horse, and artillery. The best one of you will always win,
and the other get what's coming."
Silvette went to the desk, supplied herself with pen and paper, and
prepared to resume her interrupted correspondence. Presently she looked
around, pen poised.
[Illustration: "Presently she looked around, pen poised."]
"Did the best man win between you and Jim Edgerton?" she asked.
Diana bent lower over her sewing.
"I'm afraid so, Silvie."
"Then _you_ won."
"I think so.... I have fought it over every day since--alone."
"You poor little thing," said Silvette softly.
Diana looked up with a slight smile. "Perhaps you misunderstood me,
dear. I told you I was winning.... Which means, I think, that Jim
Edgerton isn't going to remain very long at Adriutha."
"Where is he going?"
"I don't know that he is going at all; he doesn't know it, either....
But, somehow, I dare believe that he _is_ going."
"Where?"
"Into a man's world to engage in a man's business."
"It isn't in him, Diana.... You are taking a great responsibility on
your shoulders. Do you realize that you are?"
"Yes."
"And that a man with no more force of character and real ability than he
has may starve? That the world will probably break his heart, anyway."
"Let it, then.... Only a real man's heart breaks. I'll know he's one
if it does; and so will he. And that's worth all the rest."
"That's a stern creed, little sister, considering the pleasure-loving
lips that utter it."
"Out of the mouth of fools, wisdom. It doesn't matter what I am. The
thing that is important is what he shall become."
"If he become what you desire, he may have little further interest in
you."
"He will have none, if he becomes what he could become," said the girl
steadily. "Did you suppose my--ambition for him was selfish?"
"Little breaker of images, are you going to shatter your own under his
very eyes?"
"He will be the iconoclast some day.... Probably I'll be married before
that--as soon, anyway, as it's best for him.... I've plenty of time."
... She smiled without a trace of mirth in her eyes. "Mr. Snaith has
already indicated his noiseless entry into the lists. He and Colonel
Curmew are at lance points. Materially speaking, a girl ought to
consider both of them."
"But, child, we have many another business engagement before us yet, I
trust.... You wouldn't think of taking the first--the first----"
"Million offered?" asked Diana, laughing. "No, of course not, silly.
I'm merely observing the manners and customs of the creature man."
Silvette laughed, too. "How are you getting on with Billy Inwood?" she
asked demurely--"speaking of more agreeable matters."
"Perfectly; after the initial shock at encountering me here, he behaved
most reasonably. _I_ have an idea that he came here on Christine's
account, and he seemed to be rather nervous as to his obligations to me,
but I set that right at the first opportunity. I said: 'Billy, if I
don't tell you, somebody else will, that Silvette and I are here
practicing our profession, which is--to be amiable to the guests and
help entertain them. So I'm going to be just as amiable to you as I
know how, but it need not frighten you because I have no designs on
you.'"
They both laughed. Diana, mending her stocking, continued:
"I think he was very much relieved, though he pretended not to be. I
wonder if he _did_ come here to see Christine? The girl is cool enough
with him, and he is inclined to follow her about in an aimless sort of
way, as though he had something on his mind."
"He seems to be equally attentive to Christine and Mrs. Wemyss,"
observed Silvette. "It appears that he and that ample beauty are old
friends."
"Who is Mrs. Wemyss, anyway?"
Silvette smiled. "I asked Mrs. Rivett, saying that there was something
familiar about Mrs. Wemyss, and that I had an idea I had seen her
somewhere; but Mrs. Rivett didn't know who she was. She had met her
last winter at the Plaza, which is the kind of thing one might have
expected--even of Mrs. Rivett, who is as dear a little woman as ever
wore sapphires at breakfast.... What a horrid, cynical thing I'm
turning into! ... And now I'm going to turn into an imitation of a young
girl dressing for luncheon. Heigho! I wish other people were what they
ought to be and I were what I'd like to be. The world would wag very
well, then."
Luncheon was the usual animated, gossipy, and amusing function that
Silvette and Diana and Jack Rivett always made it, and at which Colonel
Curmew assiduously assisted according to his notions of jollity.
Edgerton for the last week or so had remained rather silent among the
others, amiable and nice always and perfectly receptive when spoken to,
but not volunteering very much, and not, according to Colonel Curmew's
idea, earning his salary. However, as the colonel didn't like him, that
fact may have colored his judgment when he spoke to Mr. Rivett about it
after luncheon in the privacy of that silent man's study.
"He's turned into what I knew he was--a damned snob!" said the colonel,
sitting with widened legs, a rich cigar tucked in under his military
mustache, and furtively loosening the rear buckle of his white
waistcoat.
"He doesn't pay for his keep," he went on. "What use to you is a man who
sits around looking unapproachable?"
"I have no difficulty in approaching him," observed Mr. Rivett.
"You pay him. To look at him, one would think he paid you."
"He pays me his services."
"Ah, but he doesn't! He's off with that little Diana girl half the
time."
"That's their affair."
"By gad! Is it? They're both here on a salary if it comes to that,
Jake.... Say, did it ever strike you as funny--this cousin business he
puts up?"
Mr. Rivett's burned-brown eyes fixed themselves on the jaunty colonel.
"How?"
"Oh, nothing.... They're rather distant relatives, that's all.... Not
but what she seems to be straight--as far as I know."
"What does anybody else know about her?"
"Oh, nothing--nothing," said the colonel, waving his cigar and heavy
seal ring. "But it's curious.... You can't really say a word against
an Edgerton, rich or poor; but, as far as I can see the girl is only a
little adventuress looking for trouble.... She'll probably get it some
day," he added with a tenor laugh peculiarly ungrateful to the auditory
mechanism of Mr. Rivett.
The colonel puffed his cigar in smiling silence for a while; then,
expelling another laugh and a large volume of blue smoke, slapped his
knee, straightened his tie and waistcoat and shot his cuffs.
[Illustration: "The colonel puffed his cigar in smiling silence."]
"She'll be all right to take about town, eh, Jake?" he said.
Mr. Rivett said nothing.
"Now, there's old Parke Ellingford," continued the colonel; "he's never
had as good looking a girl, and, b'gad! I've seen 'em all--known most
of 'em," he added with a leer. "And take any of the men you and I
know--Wallowby, Dankland, and that hatchet-faced Van Wyne! They've
never had any better-looking girl than that little Diana."
Mr. Rivett said nothing.
"B'gad!" said the colonel, with a laugh that approached the falsetto,
"if she doesn't cut a dash in town' this winter, I miss my guess."
"Oh--are you to be in town?" inquired Mr. Rivett.
"I? No; Palm Beach," said the colonel hastily, watching the other out
of his pale and protruding eyes. "And then--_I_ don't go in for such
capers," he explained with a pained expression. "What a man jokes
about, he never bothers with."
"_I've_ joked many a man out of half a million," observed Rivett grimly.
"That's different.... I'm a settled citizen." He looked cautiously at
Rivett, hesitated, then said carelessly: "I mean to marry, some day."
"Do you?"
"I do, certainly.... And I flatter myself that the woman I marry will
receive her equivalent, sir."
"Her moral equivalent?"
"Certainly. Perhaps not her--ah--financial equivalent." He looked up
at Rivett to see how he took it. Rivett neither took it nor rejected
it, apparently, and the colonel probed further.
"I expect to wait a year or two----"
"Aren't you getting on, Follis?"
"No, sir, I am _not_ getting on!" said the colonel shortly. "I am
forty-five. No man is fit to marry before he's forty-seven, in my
opinion. At that age he's able to treat his wife intelligently.
Intelligence is what a young girl most deeply appreciates in a man."
"A--_young_ girl?"
"I prefer a youthful wife. Youth is susceptible of being moulded. I
propose to make a perfect specimen of womanhood out of whatever charming
and adolescent material fortune bestows upon me." The colonel slightly
lifted his eyes until they protruded toward the ceiling. "I shall
consider my wife as a sacred trust, a soul for which I am responsible."
"Very good idea," said Rivett without the slightest trace of expression
on his face. "Why not marry the little Diana--and mould her into the
ideal?"
"_Marry_ her!" blurted out Curmew. "What! Marry a hired--a
paid--employee!"
His countenance became crimson and congested, and his eyes popped and
popped.
Rivett rose. "My wife worked in her uncle's kitchen when I married
her," he said indifferently, and walked out.
On the stairway he joined Diana, also descending.
"Well," he said, looking at her through his round glasses, "you _look_
happy enough."
"I am, thank you," said the girl, smiling.
"Don't thank me for it," he said dryly.
"You're to be thanked, too," she laughed--"or ought to be. But you
don't like it, I know, so I tell your wife how very pleasant you are
making Adriutha for my sister and myself."
"Do you find it pleasant?"
"Yes, I do."
"Like the people?"
They had halted on the stairs.
She looked up at him.
"Some of them I like," she said frankly.
"Which?"
"That is bad manners! ... But I like you and your wife and Christine and
Jack."
"All of us?"
"Unreservedly--except in your case."
"What's the matter with me?" he asked grimly.
"Why, I don't know you very well," she said, "so how can----"
"Come and talk it over," he said.
They resumed the descent of the stairway together, and, side by side,
walked out to a seat on the terrace overlooking the river.
"Sit down, ma'am," he said, dusting the marble bench with his
drab-colored soft hat. She seated herself with decorum, inwardly amused.
He dusted a place for himself, and sat down beside her.
"Now," he said, "what's the matter with me, Miss Tennant?"