It was a great relief to Constance when at last she was once more
self-supporting. Her eyes appeared to be as strong as ever, and she
found her new work congenial and absorbing. She was not merely Mrs.
Wilson's stenographer, but her factotum, expected to exercise a general
superintendence over her employer's philanthropic and social concerns,
to attend to details, and, through tactful personal interviews, to act
as a domestic buffer. The change from the practical severity of a law
office, with its dusty shelves of volumes uniformly bound in sheep, its
plain furniture and heterogeneous clientage, to her present
surroundings was both stimulating and startling. Stimulating because
it catered to her yearning for contact with æsthetic influences to have
the run of this superb house and to be brought into daily familiar
association with all sorts of lavish expenditure in aid of beautiful
effects and beneficent purposes. Startling because the true quality of
the luxury aimed at was unknown to her until she became a constant
eye-witness. In both Mrs. Wilson's and her brother Carleton Howard's
establishments a major-domo presided over the purely domestic
relations, engaging the numerous servants, and endeavoring to maintain
such a competent staff below stairs as to ensure delicious,
superabundant food and neat, noiseless service which should emulate as
far as possible the automatic impersonality of male and female graven
images. All the appointments of the house were captivating; the pantry
closets bristled with beautiful cut glass and delicate, superbly
decorated china; flowers in great profusion and variety were brought
three times a week from Carleton Howard's private nurseries to be
tastefully arranged by a maid whose special duty it was to attend to
this and to see that those not needed for the decoration of the house
should be sent to the destinations indicated by Mrs. Wilson through her
secretary--hospitals, friends in affliction or with birthdays, and the
like. The spacious bathrooms were lined with artistic tiles; electric
lights had been adjusted in the chambers so as to provide perfect
facilities for reading in bed; once a week an attendant called to wind
all the clocks in the house. Mrs. Wilson's personal appetite was not
keen, yet exacting. Her breakfast was served in her own room, and,
unless she had company, her other meals were apt to be slight in
substance, but were invariably of a delicate, distinguished character
as regards appearance if not ingredients. Her steward had instructions
that the dinner table should be garnished with flowers and the most
luscious specimens of the fruits of the season, though she were alone.
When she had guests these effects were amplified, and her mind was
constantly on the alert to provide novelty for her entertainments.
During the first season of Constance's employment, music between the
courses--a harpist, a quartette of violinists, an orchestra--happened
to be the favorite special feature of her dinner parties.
That first winter Mrs. Wilson had the influenza and went to Florida for
a month for recuperation, carrying her secretary with her. The journey
was made in Mr. Howard's private car, and the suite which they occupied
at the elaborate modern hotel where they stopped was the most select to
be obtained. The spectacle at this winter resort for restless
multi-millionaires was another bewildering experience for Constance.
The display of toilets and diamonds at night in the vast ornate
dining-room was dazzling and almost grotesque in its competitive
features. Mrs. Wilson preserved her distinction by a rich simplicity
of costume. She had left her most striking gowns at home, and she let
Constance perceive that her sensibilities took umbrage at this public
cockatoo emulation of wealth. She was even conspicuously simple in
regard to her food, as though she wished to shun unmistakably being
confounded with the conglomeration of socially aspiring patrons, whose
antics jarred on her conceptions of beauty. But Constance could not
avoid the reflection that profuse, if not prodigal, expenditure was
typical of her companion no less than of them, and that the distinction
was simply one of taste. What impressed her was that so many people in
the land had merely to sign a check to command what they desired, and
that the mania for novel and special comforts, and unique or gorgeous
possessions was in the air. On their way home Mrs. Wilson spent a few
days in New York shopping, having directed Constance to communicate in
advance with several dealers whose business it was to dispose of
artistic masterpieces. She bought two pictures at a cost of
twenty-five thousand dollars apiece, an antique collar of pearls, and
several minor treasures. At the same time she took advantage of the
occasion to grant an interview to two persons, a man and a woman, who
had solicited her aid in behalf of separate educational charities. To
each of these enterprises, after proper consideration, she sent her
subscription for five thousand dollars.
Undoubtedly the chief purpose of Mrs. Wilson's stay in New York was to
see her daughter. After a three months' residence in South Dakota,
Lucille had obtained a divorce on the ground of cruelty, and had
promptly married her admirer, Bradbury Nicholson, son of the president
of the Chemical Trust. Mrs. Wilson had declined to attend the wedding,
which took place in Sioux City three days after the final decree had
been entered--a very quiet affair. Lucille had notified her mother
that it was to occur, but was not surprised that she did not take the
journey. She and her husband had spent four months in Europe to let
people get accustomed to the idea that she was no longer Mrs. Clarence
Waldo, and recently they had taken up their residence in New York. Her
new husband had three millions of his own, and, as Lucille complacently
expressed the situation to her mother, society had received them
exactly as if nothing had happened.
"I told you how it would be, Mamma," she said. "Everybody understands
that Clarence and I were mismated. I am radiantly happy, and, as for
your granddaughter, she could not be fonder of Bradbury if he were her
own father. He has bought a thousand dollar pony for her. All the
Nicholson connection and my old friends have been giving us dinners,
which shows that we can't be disapproved of very strongly."
Lucille certainly looked in the best spirits when she came to see her
mother. She was exquisitely dressed, and her equipage, which stood at
the door during her visit, was in the height of fastidious fashion. So
far as externals were concerned, it was manifest that she was making
good her promise to be more conservative and decorous. Mrs. Wilson saw
fit to mark her abhorrence of her daughter's course by going to a hotel
instead of to Lucille's large house on Fifth Avenue. She was not
willing to stay under her new son-in-law's roof, but how could she
avoid making his acquaintance and dining with him? A definite breach
with her only child was out of the question, as she had previously
realized; besides her grand-daughter demanded now more than ever her
oversight and affection. Consequently on the second day she dined at
the new establishment, and consented later to attend a dinner party
which was given in her honor, though Lucille kept that compliment from
her mother's knowledge until the evening arrived. She had taken pains
to secure the most socially distinguished and interesting people of her
acquaintance, and the affair was alluded to in the newspapers as one of
the most brilliant festivities of the winter. A leopard cannot
altogether change its spots, and Lucille's ruling passion was still
horses, but she desired to show her mother that she had genuinely
improved; so it happened that after the guests had returned to the
drawing-room an organ-grinder accompanied by a pleasing black-eyed
young woman, both in fresh, picturesque Italian attire, were ushered
in. They proved to be no less than two high-priced artists from the
grand opera, who, after a few preliminary capers to keep up the
illusion, sang thrilling duets and solos. When they had finished came
an additional surprise in that the organ was shown to be partially
hollow and to contain a collection of enamelled bonbonières which were
passed on trays by the servants among the delighted guests. After the
company had gone mother and daughter had an intimate talk, in the
course of which Lucille, though making no apologies, volunteered the
statement that she in common with half a dozen other women of her
acquaintance had decided to go into retirement in one of the church
sisterhoods during the period of Lent. She explained that the sisters
of her new husband, who had high church sympathies, were preparing to
do the same and that the project appealed to her. Mrs. Wilson was
electrified. It was on her lips to ask Lucille how she could reconcile
this new departure with her hasty second marriage, but she shrank from
seeming to discourage what might be an awakening of faith or even of
æsthetic vitality in her daughter's heart. Still, though she rejoiced
in Lucille's apparent happiness and prosperity, she felt stunned at the
failure of Providence to vindicate its own just workings. Much as she
desired in the abstract that her daughter should be blessed, how was it
that so flagrant a violation of the eternal proprieties could result
not merely in worldly advancement, but an attractive home? For there
was no denying that Bradbury Nicholson was a far more engaging man than
his predecessor, and that he and Lucille were at present highly
sympathetic in their relations. Would the harmony last? It ought not
to, according to spiritual reasoning. And yet on the surface the dire
experiment had proved a success and there were indications that
permanent domestic joys and stability were likely to be the outcome of
what she considered disgrace.
Mrs. Wilson did not condescend to refer to her daughter's immediate
past, but when she found that Lucille was brimming over with fresh
tidings concerning the other offenders, Clarence Waldo and Paul's wife,
she suffered her to unbosom herself. This news was consoling to her
from the standpoint of ethical justice. As she already was aware, Mrs.
Paul Howard, obdurate in her impatience of delay, had obtained a
divorce on the ground of cruelty in Nebraska after six months, the
statutory period necessary to acquire residence, and had then married
Clarence Waldo. Now rumor reported that the newly wedded couple, who
had been spending the present winter in Southern California for the
benefit of the second Mrs. Waldo's bronchial tubes, had not hit it off
well together, to quote Lucille, and were likely to try again. For
according to the stories of people just from Los Angeles she was
permitting a Congressman from California, the owner of large silver
mines, to dance constant attendance on her, and her husband, quite out
of conceit of her to all appearances, was solacing himself with a
pretty widow from Connecticut.
"Of course," added Lucille, contemplatively, "if they really intend to
obtain a divorce in order to marry again, it will be convenient for
them that they happen to be in California, as that is another of the
states where one can acquire a legal residence in six months."
Mrs. Wilson's disgust was tempered by a fierce sense of triumph. She
was glad to know the facts, but she did not wish to talk about them,
especially as she was far from clear in her mind that there was any
logical distinction to be drawn between the conduct of these
voluptuaries and that of her own child. She tossed her head as much as
to say that she desired to drop the unsavory topic. But Lucille was so
far blind to any similarity between the cases, or else so far content
with the contrast in results between the two remarriages, that she
continued in the same vein, which was pensive rather than critical.
"I am thankful that Paul insisted on keeping Helen as a condition of
not opposing his wife's Nebraska libel, for it would have been rather
trying for the poor child to get used to three fathers in less than
three years."
Mrs. Wilson felt like choking. The unpleasant picture intensified her
repulsion; yet she knew that speech would be no relief for she would
not find Lucille properly sympathetic. Just at that moment her
granddaughter came prancing into the room, and ran to her. Mrs. Wilson
clasped her to her breast as a mute outlet for her emotions, for she
could not help remembering that this child also had two fathers, and
what was the difference but one of degree? Yet here was its mother
smiling in her face, seemingly without qualms and perfectly happy. How
was this peace of mind to be reconciled with the eternal fitness of
things?
Meanwhile Lucille was saying, "Tell me about Paul, Mamma. How does he
take it? What is he doing?"
Mrs. Wilson sighed. "He was terribly cut up, of course," she answered,
gravely. "He feels keenly the family disgrace." She paused
intentionally to let the words sink in. "Fortunately for him, he has
been invited to run for Congress--that is, if he can get the
nomination. It seems there are several candidates, but your uncle
tells me Paul has the party organization behind him. The caucuses for
delegates do not meet until the early autumn, and in the meantime he
hopes to make sufficient friends in the district, which includes some
of the small outlying country towns as well as certain wards in Benham."
"It would be nice to have Paul at Washington, for he might be able to
get the duties taken off so that our trunks wouldn't be examined when
we come from Europe. I suppose it will cost him a lot of money to be
elected."
"I have not heard so," said her mother, stiffly. Though Mrs. Wilson's
statement was true, certain allusions in her presence by Paul and his
father had aroused the suspicion in her mind that elaborate plans to
secure the necessary number of delegates were already being laid. The
use of money to carry elections was a public evil which she heartily
deplored, and which she was loth to believe would be tolerated in her
own family.
"He can afford it anyway," continued Lucille, disregarding the
disclaimer.
Mrs. Wilson changed the subject. "He was also much absorbed when I
left in his new automobile."