Again was Stewart a close listener, his chin resting on his knuckles, his
serious eyes searching Lana's face while she talked.
A cozy harbor was afforded by the bay of the great window in the library.
When Stewart had returned to the girl he noticed that she had provided the
harbor with a breakwater--a tall Japanese screen; waiting there she had
found the room draughty, she informed him.
He was placid when he returned. His demeanor was so untroubled and his air
so eagerly invited her to go on from where she had left off that she did
not bother her mind about the errand which had called him away.
"I'm really glad because we adjourned the executive session for a recess,"
she confided. "I've had a chance to think over what I was saying to you,
Stewart. While I talked I found myself getting a bit hysterical. I
realized that I was presumptuous, but I couldn't seem to stop. But I have
been going over it in my mind and I'm glad now that my feelings did carry
me away. Friendship has a right to be impetuous on some occasions. I never
tried to advise you in the old days. You wouldn't have listened, anyway."
"I've always been glad to listen to you," he corrected.
"But it makes a friend so provoked to have one listen and then go ahead
and do just as one likes. I want to ask you--while you have been away from
me have you been reflecting on what I said?"
He stammered a bit, and there was not absolute candor in his eyes. "To
tell the truth, Lana, I allowed myself to be taken up considerably with
other matters. But I did remember my promise to hurry back to you, just
the minute I could break away," he added, apologetically.
"I'm a little disappointed in you, just the same, Stewart! I've been
hoping that you were putting your mind on what I said to you. I was hoping
that when you came back----"
"Well, go on, Lana!" he prompted, gently, when she paused.
"It's so hard for me to say it so it will sound as I mean it," she
lamented. "To make my interest appear exactly what it is. To find the
words to fit my thoughts just now! I know what they're saying about me
these days in Marion. I know our folks so well! I don't need to hear the
words; I have been studying their faces this evening. You, also, know what
they're saying, Stewart!"
He confined his assent to a significant nod; Jeanie MacDougal's few words
on the subject had been, for him, a comprehensive summary of the general
gossip.
"When I was speechifying to you in St. Ronan's office you thought I had
come back here filled with airs and lofty notions. I knew how you felt!"
He shook his head and allowed the extent of his negation to be limited to
that! "I'll tell you how I felt--some time--but now I'll listen to you."
"I was putting all that on for show, Stewart! I felt so--so--I don't know!
Embarrassed, perhaps! And I felt that you--" her color deepened then in
true embarrassment. "And--and--they were all there!" It was naïve
confession, and he smiled.
"So I said to my wee mither, Lana, by way of setting her right as to
meddlesome tongues."
"I am sincere and honest still, Stewart, where my real friends are
concerned. I've just complained because I can't find words to express my
thoughts to you. Well, I never was at a loss when we were boy and girl
together." She paused and they heard the sound of music.
"There's a frilly style of talk that belongs with that--down there," she
went on. There was a hint of contempt in her gesture. "But you and I used
to get along better--or worse--with plain speech." The flash of a smile of
her own softened her _moue_.
"I make it serve me well in my affairs," agreed Morrison.
"Do you think I'm airy and notional and stuck up?"
"No!"
"Do you think I'm posing as a know-it-all because I have been about in the
world and have seen and heard?"
"No!"
"But you do think I'm broader and wiser and more open-minded and have
better judgment on matters in general than I had when I was penned up here
in Marion, don't you?"
"Yes!"
"Stewart, you're not helping me much, staring at me and popping those noes
and yesses at me! You make me feel like--but, honestly, I'm not! I don't
intend to seem like that!"
"Eh?"
"Why, like an opinionated lecturer, laying down the law of conduct to you!
I don't mean to do all the talking."
"You'd better, Lana--for the present," he advised, seriously; "If you have
something to say to me, take care and not let me get started on what I
want to say to you."
She flushed. She drew away from him slightly. In her apprehensiveness she
hurried on for her own protection. "I hoped you were coming back just now,
Stewart, and put out your hand to me as your friend, a good pal who had
given sensible advice, and say to me, 'Lana, you have used your wits to
good advantage while you have been out and about in the world, and your
suggestions to me are all right.' Aren't you going to say so, Stewart?"
"As I understand it, putting all you said to me awhile back in that plain
language we have agreed on, you tell me that I'm missing my opportunities,
have gone to sleep down here in Marion, am allowing myself to be
everlastingly tied up by petty business details that keep me away from
real enjoyment of a bigger and better life, and that there's not the least
need of my spending my best years in that fashion."
"You state it bluntly, but that is the gist of it!"
"Yes, I was blunt. I'm going to be even more blunt! What do I get out of
this prospective, bigger life, Lana?" He drew a deep breath. "Do I
get--you?"
"Stewart, hush! Wait!" He had spread his hands to her appealingly. "I am
talking to you as your friend--I'm talking of your business, your outlook.
I must say something further to you!"
He set as firm a grip on his emotions as he had on his anger earlier in
the evening when Krylovensky's hand had dealt him a blow. Her demeanor had
thrust him away effectually. The fire died in his eyes. "Go on, Lana! I
have promised to allow you to have your say. And, once I start, only a
'Yes!' can stop me."
She displayed additional apprehension and plunged into a strictly
commercial topic with desperate directness. "I'm positive that you have no
further need of making yourself a slave to details of business. I know
that you can be free to devote yourself to the higher things that are
worthy of your real self and your talents, Stewart. Father says that
through Mr. Daunt there will come to you the grandest opportunity of your
life. I suppose that's what Mr. Daunt explained to you when you were with
him this evening. Even though you may not consider me wise in men's
business affairs, Stewart, you must admit that my father and Mr. Daunt
know. You haven't any silly notions, have you? You're ready to seize every
opportunity to make a grand success in business, the way the great men do,
aren't you?"
There was a very different light in Morrison's eyes than had flamed in
them a few moments before. He stared at her appraisingly, wonderingly. His
demanding survey of her was disconcerting, but his somberness was that of
disappointment rather than of any distrust.
"Has your father asked you to talk to me on the subject of that business?"
She did not reply promptly. But his challenge was too direct.
"I confess that father did intimate that there'd be no need of mentioning
him in the matter."
"He asked you to talk to me, then?"
"Yes, Stewart!"
"And I thought you were talking only for yourself when you begged me to
step up into that broader life!" His voice trembled. She did not appear to
understand his emotion.
"But I _am_ talking for myself," protested the girl.
"You're talking only your father's views, his plans, his ambition, his
scheme of life--talking Daunt's project for his own selfish ends!"
"I don't understand!"
"I hope you don't! For the sake of my love for you, I hope so!" He was
striving to control himself. "In the name of what we have been to each
other in days past, I hope you are not their--that you don't realize they
are making you a----But I can't say it! I want proof from you now by word
o' mouth! I don't want any more prattle of business! I want you to show me
that you are talking for yourself. Lana Corson, say to me some word from
your own heart--something for me alone--something from old times--to prove
that you are what I want you to be! I love you. You are mine! I don't
believe their gossip. I have never given you up. I've been waiting
patiently for you to come back to me. Can't you go back to the old
times--and speak from your own soul?"
The intensity of his appeal carried her along in the rush of his emotion.
"Stewart, I have been speaking for myself, as best I knew how! I'm back to
the old times! If you need further words from me, you shall have them."
Senator Corson stepped around the end of the screen. "You will postpone
any further words to Mr. Morrison! I have some words of my own for him!
Lana, Coventry Daunt is waiting for you in the ballroom and I have told
him that you will be there at once."
"Mr. Daunt must continue to wait, father. I have something to tell
Stewart, and you must allow me to say it--say it to him, alone."
"You shall never speak another word to him on any subject with my
permission. I have been listening and--"
"Father, do you confess that you have been eavesdropping?"
"My present code of manners is perfectly suited to the tactics of this
fellow who has flouted me and insulted an honored guest under my roof this
evening. Morrison, leave the house!"
"He shall stay at the request of his hostess," declared the girl,
defiantly.
"On with you to your guests--that's where your hostess duties are!" Corson
reached to take her arm.
Stewart hastily raised Lana's hand and bent over it. "I am indebted to you
for a charming evening." He stood erect and his demeanor of manly
sincerity removed every suggestion of sarcasm from the conventional phrase
he had spoken quietly. "The charm, Senator Corson, has outweighed all the
unpleasantness."
When he turned to retire Corson halted him with a curt word.
"Lana, I command you to go and join your partner."
But Miss Corson persisted in her rebelliousness. She did not relish the
ominous threat that she perceived in the situation. "I shall stay with you
till you're in a better state of temper, father."
"You'll hear nothing to this man's credit if you do stay," said the
Senator, acridly. "I have just talked on the 'phone with the Governor,
Mayor Morrison. He asked me to notify you that your mob which you have
stirred up in your own city, by your devilish speeches this evening, is
evidently on the war-path. He, expects you to undo the mischief, seeing
that your tongue is the guilty party!"
Lana turned startled gaze from her father to Morrison; amazement struggled
with her indignation. Her amazement was deepened by the mayor's mild
rejoinder.
"Very well, Senator. I have an excellent understanding with that mob."
"Making speeches to a mob!" Lana gasped. "I'll not allow even my father to
say that about you, Stewart, and leave it undisputed."
"Your father is angry just now, Lana! Any discussion will provoke further
unpleasantness!"
"Confound you! Don't you dare to insult me by your condescending airs,"
thundered Corson. "You have your orders. Go and mix with your rabble and
continue that understanding with 'em, if you can make 'em understand that
law and order must prevail in this city to-night."
The library was in a wing of the mansion, far from the street, and the
three persons behind the screen had been entirely absorbed in their
troubled affairs. They had heard none of the sounds from the street.
Somebody began to call in the corridor outside the library. The voice
sounded above the music from the ballroom, and quavered with anxious
entreaty as it demanded, over and over: "Senator Corson! Where are you,
Senator Corson?"
"Here!" replied the Senator.