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 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK. 
 
THE STORY 
 
 OF 
 
 LAWRENCE GARTHE 
 
 BY 
 
 ELLEN OLNEY KIRK 
 
 AUTHOR OF " QUEEN MONEY," " MARGARET KENT," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 , Cambrit>0e 
 
Copyright, 1KH, 
 Br ELLEN OLNET KIRK. 
 
 All right* reserved. 
 
 Tht Rirtrride Prett, Cambridge, Mats., F. S. A. 
 Dectrotyped nd Printed by H. 0. Houghton and Company. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEB PA.GH 
 
 I. A DISAPPOINTMENT 5 
 
 II. HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY . . 25 
 
 III. WHEN HALF-GODS GO 46 
 
 IV. THE GODS ARRIVE 80 
 
 V. HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE . . . 106 
 
 VI. " SHE SHOULD NEVER HAVE LOOKED AT MB " 127 
 
 VII. BELLA AND EUGENIA 162 
 
 VIII. KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND . . . 194 
 
 IX. AT THE FlN-DE-SlECLE 217 
 
 X. AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER .... 231 
 
 XL BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE .... 262 
 
 XII. GARTHE AND LARRY 288 
 
 XIII. SUNDAY EVENING 298 
 
 XIV. LARRY HAS A VISITOR 315 
 
 XV. A DREAM COME TRUE 335 
 
 XVI. A TEST 364 
 
 XVII. MR. MARCHMONT FINDS HIS WAY MADE CLEAR. 377 
 
 XVIII. FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION . . . 387 
 
 XIX. RENUNCIATION 407 
 
 XX. AFTER LONG GRIEF AND PAIN . . . 432 
 
 39377ft 
 
THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 THE ladies were expected every moment ; so the 
 servant at the door of Mrs. Garner s house on Lex 
 ington Avenue told Ferdinand Hartley. Accord 
 ingly, saying that he would await their return, he 
 entered the drawing-room, which was lighted by a 
 great lamp, with a flame-colored shade, and an 
 open fire of coals, sat down in a low chair, put his 
 hat on the floor, and congratulated himself on this 
 quiet interval, which offered him a chance to 
 marshal his ideas in fair and logical order and 
 decide upon his plan of action. It was, however, 
 no easy matter to concentrate his thoughts. He 
 could hardly account for his own nervousness. 
 Twice in his life before he had made an offer of 
 marriage, in each experience meeting a sharp 
 reverse ; but in those cases he had touched upon 
 the subject in cold blood, had attempted to rouse 
 ardor when he had no ardor himself. Now he had 
 no reason for misgiving, for he was absolutely 
 sincere. He had long looked the confession he had 
 
6 TUK STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 not permitted himself to utter in words, and was 
 assured of success. He could not understand why 
 his heart was beating rapidly when he ought to 
 have been calm and self-possessed, like the man of 
 the world he aimed to be. But then, who except 
 a median ical puppet is ever, to his own con 
 sciousness, a man of the world ? 
 
 Hartley possessed, in general, much happy dex 
 terity in playing any role he assumed. He was 
 thirty years of age, extremely handsome, with 
 dark, laughing blue eyes, curly brown hair, a closely 
 clipped beard trimmed neatly to a point ; and, with 
 out any fatuous air of vanity, gave an impression, 
 not only of feeling in high good humor with him 
 self, but of being used to the good opinion of his 
 neighbors. His parents had been New Yorkers. 
 His one sister was well married in the city. He 
 was no unknown adventurer compelled to prove to 
 the world that he was worth acceptance socially. 
 He had always been accepted, was part and parcel 
 of society, reckoned on everywhere and made room 
 for. At this moment he still wore a bridal favor 
 in his buttonhole, having been best man at a 
 wedding ; but he had been asked more than once 
 during the afternoon if anything had gone wrong, 
 what was troubling him. He himself had been 
 conscious of being out of spirits, ill at ease. The 
 truth was, his peace of mind had been spoiled by 
 bis glimpse of Mrs. Garner at the reception, her 
 little head in air as she stood surrounded by a group 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 1 
 
 of men, her charming face aglow, her blue eyes 
 aflame, as she poured out, with the spontaneity and 
 effervescence which characterized her, a flood of talk 
 which seemed to delight her auditors. Hartley, 
 held at his post, tied by the leg as it were, had been 
 constrained to look on perturbed by jealousy, and the 
 moment he could get away had followed her home. 
 
 He had visited intimately at this house for almost 
 two years, and everything in these rooms, the 
 chairs, the sofas, the little desk, strewn with silver 
 implements and delicately bordered mourning 
 paper, the palms in the great china jars, the chrys^ 
 anthemums in the crystal bowls, were as familiar as 
 his own belongings. What an opportunity his had 
 been, and how incomprehensible it seemed now that 
 he had not made use of his unique advantages ! 
 He had become acquainted with Mrs. Garner and 
 her step- daughter, Constance, while they were 
 still in the deepest mourning, secluded from the 
 world, always at home, always together, like 
 Helena and Hermia as they created both one 
 flower, " both warbling of one song." Perhaps the 
 reason Hartley had lingered and loitered along the 
 pleasant road of easy intimacy was that his heart, 
 although touched on the instant, had not been 
 fixed. He had felt their interfused charm, and had 
 made the most of that exquisite pause of time 
 which a man experiences in halting before two 
 women whom he admires equally. 
 
 Still he was not, in general, a man given to 
 
8 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 vague romantic longings. He knew what he longed 
 for, and was ready to discard fancies and motives 
 which were not supreme. Thus he had used his in 
 sight, his powers of observation, and had gradually 
 come to the conclusion that it was Mrs. Garner 
 whom he wished to marry. He could not feel 
 certain that Constance was conquerable, while he 
 believed that Kathleen was. At this moment, while 
 he waited, his mind was taken up with recollections, 
 images, forecasts, all of which pointed to the con 
 clusion that he had touched her heart. But why 
 had he left himself at the mercy of events instead 
 of himself appointing them? He seemed, until 
 to-day, to have forgotten that he could have rivals, 
 and had trusted altogether to the chapter of chances. 
 He had come determined to end his uncertainty. 
 
 The hall clock struck the half hour past five, and 
 in another moment Mrs. Garner and her step 
 daughter entered, full of apologies for their tardi 
 ness. They had gone on from the wedding to 
 take a cup of tea with Mrs. Challoner, and talk it 
 over. Mr. Marchmont had come in, and after 
 wards had walked home with them in the twilight 
 of the late November day. 
 
 " I did not see John Marchmont at the wedding," 
 said Hartley. 
 
 " He says he never goes to weddings," explained 
 Mi s. Garner, speaking always in the same sweet 
 veiled Southern voice. "He says he never even 
 reads marriage notices, that they make him so 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 envious he tears his hair and rages generally. I tell 
 him he idealizes the thing ; that there is an immense 
 amount of illusion about it. Still, how delightful 
 it all was," she sighed, dropping, as she spoke, into 
 her favorite corner of the sofa and pulling off her 
 gloves. " It has put a thousand new ideas into my 
 head. I have lost all sense of my own individuality. 
 I keep saying to myself, 4 Why am I not exactly 
 eighteen ? 4 Why am I not coming out this sea 
 son ? Why was it not I who was married to-day 
 and setting off on a wedding journey, with great 
 trunks full of beautiful new gowns ! : 
 
 " Wonderful unanimity of feeling ! " put in 
 Hartley. " I wanted it to be my wedding day. I 
 wanted to be setting off on a wedding journey/ 
 
 Her blue eyes regarded him pensively a moment ; 
 then she went on : " So many sensations rushing to 
 gether at once quite intoxicated me. But you see 
 I had quite forgotten how agreeable society is. 
 I had been absolutely contented shut up here with 
 Constance, getting through two pages of German 
 a day, practicing Schumann, and reading the Eliz 
 abethan poets. I was beginning to feel myself a 
 person of rather superior tastes, bent on culture. 
 But the moment I walked up the church aisle and 
 heard the organ playing the overture to Tannhauser, 
 I knew that my intellectuality was all a pretense. 
 Constance may like ideas, but what I care about 
 is people, the new gowns the women have on, 
 the kind of flowers men wear in their buttonholes ; 
 
10 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 how they all look, stand, sit, shake hands ; above all, 
 what they are all talking about." 
 
 " Everybody at the wedding was talking about 
 you and Miss Constance," said Hartley. "The 
 bride had no chance at all. Even the bridegroom 
 was saying what a pleasure it was to see you both 
 out again." 
 
 " Yes, everybody was talking about us ; and could 
 any subject be more interesting ? " 
 
 "Unluckily, it will soon be exhausted," said 
 Constance. " There is only one possible first 
 appearance." 
 
 Both women were attractive, and both had sweet 
 voices. Mrs. Garner s was delicate in inflection 
 and in quality of tone ; but from her habit of drop 
 ping the final consonants of certain words and 
 changing the values of the vowels, the effect, 
 although musical, was blurred and a little indistinct. 
 Constance, on the other hand, spoke invariably in 
 a very soft, but clear and deliberate voice, with a 
 peculiar effect of finish to her least phrase. Mrs. 
 Garner was very fair in complexion, with light, 
 fluffy hair of a beautiful shade, large blue eyes, a 
 sensitive pair of lips, a fitful color and a charming 
 smile. In manner she was by turns possessed by an 
 invincible shyness which seemed to bind her hand 
 and foot and to forbid her raising her eyes from 
 the floor, and carried away by her high spirits 
 to the very verge of audacity. Although she was 
 five years older than her step-daughter, from the 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 11 
 
 aerial effect of her hair and coloring she looked 
 younger. Constance wore her dark hair drawn 
 straight away from her low, broad forehead and 
 temples ; her eyes were dark beneath very level 
 brows, and she had a sweet, serious face with a 
 peculiarly earnest, childish way of looking squarely 
 at the person she addressed or listened to. This 
 childish simplicity of glance was combined with a 
 childish integrity of manner. One had invariably 
 a sense of her thinking out her own thoughts from 
 her own instincts and beliefs, and the occasional 
 soft glow and vehemence, which at times endowed 
 her with magnetic charm, seemed to come from a 
 real inner fire of feeling. Subtleties apart, the way 
 she spoke and met the speech of others showed 
 instant sympathy and intelligence. Both she and 
 Mrs. Garner were in plain black gowns of artistic 
 fit with little bonnets of jet, but in neither case was 
 the sombre attire unbecoming. 
 
 "This is actually Constance s coming out, you 
 know, Mr. Hartley, Mrs. Gar n er continued . Five 
 years ago she was to have had a grand debut, but 
 her sister, Mrs. Goddard, was ill all that autumn 
 and winter. Then the next October our deluge 
 came, and everything in this house was at an end. 
 If I could do what I liked I should give her a tea, 
 a series of dinners, and a ball. But then I never 
 can do what I like." 
 
 " In this instance I am glad you cannot," Con 
 stance struck in on the instant. " The idea of a 
 
12 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 girl of twenty-four having a ball ! It would be 
 like offering me a rattle box and coral because 1 
 happened to have been neglected in iny infancy." 
 
 "You see Constance has no illusions about 
 society," said Mrs. Garner. a She sees things 
 exactly as they are. Mr. Marchmont insists that 
 I never do, that my way is to seize some idea 
 which pleases me, put a halo round it, and call it a 
 fact." 
 
 " I hope that description applies to me," said 
 Hartley, feeling as if, in spite of his virile determina 
 tion to assert himself, he was a mere eddy carried 
 away by the race of this full stream. 
 
 Mrs. Garner at first looked inquisitive, then 
 blushed, and dropped her eyes, and, as if hurrying 
 away from a personal subject, proceeded : " I was 
 telling Mrs. Challoner about the wedding presents, 
 for being cousins we were admitted to the private 
 view yesterday. Thirteen sets of costly plates and 
 nine silver chafing-dishes ! I could perceive that 
 Constance was just a little shocked that I should 
 have counted the plates and chafing-dishes, not 
 to say the afternoon tea-sets and twenty other 
 things in profusion ! What strikes me dumb with 
 awe, she regards as nothing in particular. I tell 
 her she is like Princess Clotilde at the court of 
 Napoleon Third, who, when the Empress remarked 
 upon her taking all the high ceremonials without 
 making a fuss, replied, Mais jy suis habituee ! 
 After all, unless somebody is to be surprised by it, 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 13 
 
 what is the use of such splendor ? There could 
 be no fun at all in vain shows unless society were 
 reinforced constantly by nouveaux riches and 
 parvenus like me, ready to fall down and worship 
 Sevres plates and silver chafing-dishes. Now I 
 enjoy a well-dressed crowd to the very tips of my 
 fingers, men with no shininess about the seams 
 or bagginess at the knees, and women with gowns 
 you may venture to inspect in any light without a 
 painful conviction that they have been turned inside 
 out or upside down. There is nothing blase about 
 me ! "When I go out to dinner, I fairly gloat on 
 the idea that there will be at least six courses and 
 that the supply of forks and spoons will never run 
 out. For you see, Mr. Hartley, I was brought up 
 in a reduced way. We had traditions of our 
 grandeur 4 befo de wah, but who can live on 
 traditions ? We had a few bits of rare china and of 
 battered silver, to be sure, but only just enough to 
 show me the solid comfort of having thirteen sets 
 of dinner plates and nine silver chafing-dishes." 
 
 To indicate the dropping of certain syllables and 
 the broadening inflection given to others, would 
 be to caricature what was a mere suggestion of im 
 perfect speech, seeming partly the result of an ad 
 mixture of Southern dialect, and partly the effect 
 of the soft impetuosity of the speaker, whose 
 way it was to throw herself into any subject which 
 engaged her and permit it to run away with her. 
 
 "At this moment," she went on, "I am the 
 
14 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 vainest and most worldly person in the world. I 
 am going to put on the most becoming gown you 
 can possibly imagine and go to dine at the "Wind 
 sor." 
 
 Hartley tried to retain command of his features, 
 lest they should express too much of his disappoint 
 ment and chagrin. He rose to his feet. " I fear," 
 he exclaimed, " that I have been detaining you." 
 
 " Not in the least," said Constance, with instant 
 decision, " I am not asked. It is a party of 
 Kathy s Virginia friends. If you will excuse her, 
 perhaps she had better go and dress, and you can 
 put her in the carriage when she comes down." 
 
 Hartley went on stammering apologies. He had 
 only dropped in ; twice he had been upon the 
 point of taking leave ; that he had lingered was a 
 tribute to Mrs. Garner s eloquence. 
 
 "But you are not to go," said Constance. 
 " Kathy is such a monopolist I have had no time 
 to ask you a question or to tell you our plans. 
 Now, Kathy, run away and put on that new gown." 
 
 Kathleen, dropping, as she stood up, her gloves, 
 handkerchief, fan, and wraps, shyly held out her 
 hand to Hartley, murmuring with an appealing 
 glance, " You will forgive me this once ? " 
 
 He stooped, picked up her belongings, and in his 
 easy, pleasant way, crossed the room at her side, 
 carrying them to the foot of the staircase, where he 
 detained her a moment, saying, while he looked up 
 into her face as she stood on the third step : 
 
A DISAPPOIN THEN T. 15 
 
 " All the same, I do not approve of your going 
 to dine at the Windsor with a crowd of strange 
 
 O 
 
 people." 
 
 " Why not ? " she inquired, with an abashed 
 glance as if conscious of committing a fault. 
 
 " Because I do not like to have you go and dine 
 at the Windsor with strange people, and I think 
 your conscience, if you have any, ought to tell you 
 why." 
 
 " They are very old friends," she pleaded, humbly. 
 44 They have just got back from Europe, they " 
 
 " All the same I do not like it. It spoils my 
 peace of mind. Do you hear ? I do not like it ! 
 I do not like it ! " 
 
 He held her hand as he spoke, and looked up 
 into her eyes with a bright, laughing glance, and in 
 the smile that lurked about his lips there was ten 
 derness and good humor. 
 
 " But I must go," she faltered ; " I have 
 promised." 
 
 " Then go," he said, with a peculiar soft flash of 
 his blue eyes, then with a swift movement carried 
 her hand to his lips before he released it. " Only," 
 he added as he put her mantle and gloves into her 
 extended arms, " don t dare to have a good con 
 science." 
 
 And after gazing at her as she slowly ascended, 
 turning at the landing to give him a last look 
 full of contrition, he went back to the drawing- 
 room, a little elated, feeling certain that in spite 
 
16 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 of his disappointment he had been able to score 
 a point. 
 
 " Now be perfectly candid," he said to Constance. 
 " You are a person whose least word is law to me. 
 If you wish me to go I will go. If I may stay 
 half an hour that will be a very great pleasure." 
 
 For, his mind still revolving upon his own pro 
 ject, it had suddenly occurred to him that perhaps 
 the best thing for him to do might be to take the 
 girl into his confidence and ask her to give him her 
 aid and comfort in his love affair. No sooner had 
 this idea presented itself than he saw in it every 
 advantage. Even if Constance had not actively 
 favored his suit to her step-mother, passively 
 she had done so again and again. He was certain 
 that he could at least count upon her sympathy. 
 
 " I asked you to stay," she said. " Sit down. 
 I cannot ask you to dine with me, because I do not 
 expect to have any dinner ; but at eight o clock I 
 shall have a modest meal of some description, if 
 you care to share it. I wanted to tell you about 
 our plans, for having at last crossed the Rubicon 
 we are to go everywhere and do everything. We 
 shall send out our cards for Tuesdays in December 
 and January, and then in a quiet way, once a 
 fortnight, we shall give a little dinner." 
 
 He had not sat down, but was standing before 
 her, leaning on the back of a high chair. Her up 
 turned eyes were fixed on him ; she was smiling ; 
 there was nothing in her words or in her look to 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 17 
 
 suggest any meaning beyond this unimportant 
 announcement, yet his instinct was quick, and he 
 divined that something else was to be told which 
 concerned himself. 
 
 He expressed his pleasure at hearing that their 
 seclusion was over. " Although," he went on, bend 
 ing towards her, " I half begrudge other people the 
 chance of coming and going here. This friend 
 ship has counted for a great deal in my life, and I 
 should be jealous of being entirely superseded." 
 
 " It has been very pleasant to us to have you 
 come," said Constance. She sighed. " I feel as 
 if no other life were possible except that we have 
 been living here. This house seems part of my 
 self. It is something to shudder at, I think, that 
 by this time next year Kathy and I must have 
 given it all up." 
 
 Hartley looked at her, startled. "I do not quite 
 understand," he murmured. " The house is yours, 
 is it not?" 
 
 " My grandfather gave it to my mother and her 
 children," Constance replied. "Papa had only 
 a life interest in it. It belongs to my two sisters 
 and to my two brothers besides myself. Consider 
 ing that they are none of them rich people, they 
 have been very generous in permitting Kathy and 
 me to go on in just the old way. At first, after 
 papa s death, when it was decided that we should 
 keep it for five years, it seemed a whole lifetime. 
 We look at each other now and wonder where it 
 
18 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 has vanished. Xlie reason why we are launching 
 into gayeties is that we feel it important to make 
 the most of our little day of sunshine." 
 
 Hartley s surprise was so naive that he could 
 hardly manage the simplest phrase of sympathy or 
 common interest. He had always taken it for 
 granted that the Garners were solidly rich people. 
 Could it be - No, it was impossible that he 
 should have made such a mistake. His mind was 
 so busy in sifting the probabilities of the situation 
 that he forgot to speak. 
 
 " I have a little money," Constance now said. 
 " and if the house is sold I shall have a little more. 
 But Kathy, poor, dear, beautiful Kathy, is cruelly 
 placed." 
 
 Their eyes met. " Do you mean - " he faltered 
 out, but his lips refused to form another word. 
 His throat and mouth were dry as parchment. 
 
 "That is what I mean," Constance said with 
 extreme gentleness, and he knew that his disappoint 
 ment, his chagrin, his whole shock of feeling were 
 an open page to her. " I feel sometimes that I am 
 in fault for having tried to keep up the fiction of 
 our being well off. But loving papa as I did, hon 
 oring his memory as I wish to do, can you wonder 
 that I have tried to conceal the fact that he left 
 his young wife wholly unprovided for? He had 
 made a good income, but we had lived expensively, 
 and he had provided generously for my brothers 
 and sisters. You see, Mr. Hartley, he was as 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 19 
 
 sure of his life as if he had been a very young man. 
 More than once he had said to me, 4 1 have done 
 well by the others ; now I must begin to save 
 for you and Kathy. Then in a moment it was all 
 over." 
 
 Hartley himself, experiencing the awful sudden 
 ness of the wreck of mortal hopes, contrived to 
 mutter, " I remember how unexpected it was." It 
 seemed to him as if a knot was tied in his throat. 
 He could have wept in indignation, in self-pity, in 
 his sense of utter humiliation before this proud, 
 sensitive girl. 
 
 " Of course," she went on, " whatever I have, 
 Kathy has. She will not suffer. She has indeed 
 no clear idea that she is so poor. I feel as if I 
 could not have her saddened and perplexed by the 
 actual truth of things. It takes very little to 
 make her happy, it also takes very little to make 
 her unhappy." 
 
 " How good you are to her ! " Hartley mur 
 mured. 
 
 "It would be impossible for me to be good 
 enough to her," said Constance, all aglow and 
 with a soft vehemence of manner. " If only I had 
 something to give up to her ! The others cannot 
 feel as I do. They were older, and were inclined 
 to be a little skeptical and ironical about papa s 
 marrying a wife thirty years younger than him 
 self." 
 
 The situation, which had at first left Hartley s 
 
20 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 perceptions hazy, confused, inert, began to clear. 
 Up to this moment he had thought only of him 
 self ; it now occurred to him that he ought to ex 
 press some sympathy for Kathy as well. 
 
 " It seems hard for Mrs. Garner," he remarked, 
 with an effort to detach himself from any personal 
 point of view and assume his usual ease of manner. 
 " Destiny will soon set things right for her again, 
 however. She is certain to marry again." 
 
 Constance s head drooped. 
 
 " That is what my brothers say," she returned, 
 speaking for once in an almost indistinguishable 
 voice, " and I I hope she may marry some good 
 man, some disinterested man." 
 
 The clock in the hall struck the half hour. 
 Hartley straightened himself. " I wish," he said 
 in an odd voice, " that I were a disinterested man. 
 I should like to experience the emancipation of 
 mind, heart and soul a million of dollars would 
 give me. If I were a rich man I could be a disin 
 terested man instead of the sordid wretch I am." 
 
 The glow and lire of her face startled him as she 
 raised her eyes. 
 
 " 1 hope," she cried, " you have not misunder 
 stood me." 
 
 " No, I have not misunderstood you." He went 
 up to her and held out his hand. " Thank you 
 for telling me this," he murmured, with at least 
 an affectation of frank emotion. " You are a 
 brave girl." 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 21 
 
 " Kathy has no one else to look after her," she 
 answered. " Sometimes I am horribly anxious 
 about her future." 
 
 " I see," he said. He looked down at the proud 
 childlike face, beautiful in its courage and its self- 
 control. After all, it was this girl with whom he 
 was actually in love, he said to himself, only he had 
 always experienced a sense of being unable to meet 
 her demands upon him, he was inadequate ; his 
 best performances fell below her mark. With her, 
 life was something serious, passionate, sincere. He 
 was struck anew by the modest, truthful charm of 
 the face, of the youthful stateliness with which she 
 rose. 
 
 " Shall I ever come again ? " he asked humbly. 
 
 " Of course come," she said with some imperi- 
 ousness. " We are good friends, always good 
 friends." 
 
 " Thank you," he said ardently, as if intensely 
 grateful. " Good-night." He was leaving the 
 room ; then at the door he turned back, and added, 
 " I hope Mrs. Garner will enjoy her dinner." 
 
 He stopped for a moment in the hall to pick up 
 his light overcoat, fling it across his arm, and in an 
 other moment experienced the relief of the outside 
 coolness and darkness. 
 
 His whole wish had been to get away. He was 
 miserably conscious, not only that his speech and 
 action had been mechanical, but that whatever 
 passion, love, pity, tenderness, hope, courage, even 
 
22 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 common charity, had ever seemed to have existence 
 in his relations with Kathleen Garner, had failed 
 in this crisis. Not enough emotion of any sort 
 was left to give the requisite impulse for a manly 
 and helpful word. What he had experienced was 
 a startled sense of escape, such as a man might 
 feel when, just as he is about to cross a bridge, he 
 discovers that the arch is broken, and steps back, 
 miraculously, saved from a descent into the abyss 
 beneath. In this case the bridge was marriage, 
 the abyss, poverty. Hartley had taken it for 
 granted that Mrs. Garner was a widow with a 
 splendid jointure, and the illogical and absurd mis 
 take would have moved him to laughter had not 
 the tragical side of his disappointment been at 
 present uppermost in his mind. Personal emotions, 
 heartbreak, he was not conscious of. An hour ago, 
 when he had kissed her hand, he had believed 
 himself to be head and ears in love with Kathy, 
 with her charming blushes, her reckless audacities, 
 her invincible timidities. At this moment, what 
 she represented to his mind was a vexatious mis 
 calculation and loss of time ; the thought of her 
 was hardly more than one of his long list of finan 
 cial disasters, and, just as after losing heavily in 
 some speculation he had built hopes upon, he would 
 experience for months afterwards a pang of self- 
 disgust at the sight of the name of the enterprise, 
 so at this moment he hated the idea of this futile 
 romance. 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 23 
 
 Evidently he had not been in love. " I sup 
 pose," he exclaimed audibly, as he hurried on, " I 
 am incapable of being in love." And this conviction 
 brought with it palpable relief, since in the midst 
 of so much futility and failure his mistake was not 
 a supreme mistake. It was just another of the same 
 kind that had always been happening. He could 
 at times pose, even to himself, as a cleverer man, 
 a more successful man, than he actually was, and it 
 was his habit to reflect as little as possible upon the 
 actual details of his experience. At this moment, 
 however, each separate event of his career seemed 
 to thrust itself forward, each one of a series of 
 just such unhappy guesses as this had proved; 
 a sequence of false auguries, unsuccessful issues, 
 faulty tinkerings, abortive experiments ; each push 
 ing one another out of sight, substituting a fresh 
 scheme for the one just doomed ; each destined to 
 shift through the same phases of hope, test and 
 failure, and share the same disastrous fate. And 
 at this moment he distinctly realized that in all 
 these unhappy enterprises there had been, invari 
 ably, the same spur, the wish somehow to get 
 hold of money without giving money s worth. 
 
 It is always the supreme test of a man s philoso 
 phy whether he has the magnanimity to take up 
 with what he can get, instead of pauperizing his 
 life by aiming after the unattainable. The recollec 
 tion suddenly flashed across Hartley s mind that his 
 partner, Joseph Roylance, had yesterday told him 
 
24 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 of his brother s having a new client, a very rich 
 woman, a stranger in New York, to whom it might 
 be worth a young fellow s while to pay some little 
 attention. The suggestion was timely, and piqued 
 him into a wish to go on living. Life, after all, 
 might prove to be a manageable affair. He began 
 to see something beyond the blank wall against 
 which he had been dashing aimlessly, and resumed 
 gradually his usual buoyant sense of being a man 
 of the world and master of his fate. Between his 
 state of mind two hours before, when he had looked 
 forward to engaging himself to Kathleen Garner, 
 and his present detached condition, there was a 
 gap to shudder over. But he had managed, not, 
 it is true, very gracefully, to jump it, and was 
 now on the safe side. A new life stretched out be 
 fore him with new cravings and new resolutions, 
 and its first necessity was that he should dine. He 
 felt that he had been ill-treated, had passed 
 through a hard ordeal and deserved compensation. 
 Thus he determined not only to dine but to dine 
 well. As Richard said : 
 
 " Since I am crept in favour with myself, 
 I will maintain it with some little cost." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 
 
 As Hartley entered his favorite cafe he found 
 himself following a man whose figure and turn of 
 the head struck him as familiar. 
 
 " Is that you, Garthe ? " he said, leaning forward 
 and putting his hand on the shoulder of the other, 
 who had paused and stood looking about at the 
 tables full of guests, the waiters in immaculate 
 array, with napkins over their arms and order-cards 
 in hand, hurrying hither and thither ; at the lights, 
 the glitter of glass, silver and china, against a back 
 ground of palms, rubber plants and chrysanthe 
 mums. It was Lawrence Garthe, and he turned 
 and shook hands with Hartley, who was his cousin 
 in some remote degree. 
 
 " Have you dined?" he inquired, and at Hart 
 ley s shake of the head exclaimed with an air of 
 relief, " Dine with me ; I was horribly bored at the 
 idea of sitting down alone." 
 
 Hartley, who had been bowing right and left to 
 acquaintances who nodded to him from the groups 
 on every hand, accepted the invitation, held up his 
 hand with a gesture which brought the head waiter 
 almost on the run, and in another moment they were 
 
26 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 established at a table in a quiet corner, from which 
 a party had just risen. The luxury and splendor 
 of the place, the easy effectiveness of his own good 
 management in securing attention on the instant, 
 reinstated him in his own esteem and put him in 
 good humor. He was glad to have Lawrence 
 Garthe, for once, see him in his own element : the 
 object of general consideration, the recipient of 
 glances, smiles, nods and waves of the hand from 
 these rich and fashionable people. 
 
 " You are evidently at home here, Ferdinand," 
 said Garthe. " Just order what you like, will you 
 not ? I so rarely dine out I prefer to dine well, 
 but I hate thinking about it. I give you carte 
 Uanche" 
 
 Hartley s face glowed with satisfaction. He 
 not only enjoyed a good dinner, but he enjoyed the 
 ordering of it, particularly when another man was 
 to pay the bill. Perhaps we seem to put Hartley 
 in an ugly light, but his present sordidness was the 
 result of circumstances, and actually he was no 
 more mercenary than the generality of people. He 
 possessed plenty of noble instincts, but they were 
 blunted by a most unhappy practice of being ham 
 pered by debts. Five years before, he had put 
 what small capital he possessed into a brokerage 
 business, in which ever since he had been kept like 
 a young hound in a leash by his partner, Joseph 
 Roylauce, who, warily watching the signs of the 
 times, imposed his strong will upon his junior, deter- 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 27 
 
 mined to risk and lose nothing until they had lived 
 through the present dangerous financial epoch, 
 Hartley was always lamenting that he had arrived 
 upon the stage of affairs just too late. During the 
 decade of the Civil War, nothing could be easier 
 than for any and every man to make a fortune. 
 Now-a-days great fortunes were made, but not by 
 any and every man. It was mere nonsense for Roy- 
 lance to talk of incessant industry, watchfulness and 
 perseverance ; such old-fashioned methods of get 
 ting rich were useless lumber. Now-a-days money 
 was not laid up by painstaking accumulation, but 
 was won by some grand coup, by establishing a 
 monopoly, by rigging and cornering the markets, 
 by audacity, tactics and brutal force. It was hard 
 for a man with the true conjuring word for con 
 quering the world to be compelled to wait in the 
 tadpole stage of existence until he was thirty. By 
 strange accidents Hartley had been repressed and 
 thwarted in every effort towards development. He 
 was liked by every one : by men, for his easy habit of 
 accepting whatever came in his way without impos 
 ing his own standards upon others ; by women, for 
 his good looks and his gift of being to each what 
 she wished him to be. Twice he had offered mar 
 riage to rich girls and had been refused. In one 
 case the object of his pursuit was already promised ; 
 the other, who was plain but clever, derided him, told 
 him that he was not in love, that he was not even a 
 good pretender : that if a man had nothing to offer 
 
28 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 a woman in the way of money and position he ought, 
 at least, to seem to have a heart. The fact was, 
 Hartley s wish to be rich overmastered all other 
 passions in his nature. He had no vices, and 
 shrugged his shoulders at those of other men, de 
 claring that they did not pay. His determination 
 to get out of existence what he craved had devel 
 oped in him an eager head and a cool heart. 
 His whole habit of life, his anxious problems, his 
 crying necessities, as we have seen, his very love 
 affairs, hinged on his imperative desire for riches. 
 Yet although he experienced the ignominy of often 
 being without the ready money in his pocket to 
 answer just demands, he was yet quite ready to 
 look down on Lawrence Garthe for having plenty 
 of money in his pocket which he seemed to have 
 no idea of spending in a way to get comfort out of 
 existence. 
 
 The two kinsmen were of the same age, had 
 been occasional playfellows as boys, and students at 
 Yale at the same time, Hartley in the academic 
 and Garthe in the scientific department. It was 
 at college that Hartley had found out the com 
 fort of having a cousin whose quiet habits per 
 mitted him to keep a full purse. Garthe was 
 absorbed in his pursuits ; born as he had been with 
 a love of getting at the truth of things, he cared 
 nothing for cheap and facile college dissipations. 
 What he liked and courted was stress of per 
 sistence in hard work, intellectual stimulus, the 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 29 
 
 joyous fever of invention and discovery, travel, 
 pursuit, adventure. As soon as he had graduated 
 he was offered a lucrative post in Colorado as 
 assayist and mining chemist. Shortly afterwards 
 came the announcement of his marriage, and then 
 Hartley had heard no more of him for five years, 
 when he was told that Garthe had settled down in 
 Berlin, after two years prospecting in the Ural 
 mountains ; that he had lost his wife, who had left 
 a little son to whom he was devoted. Finally, six 
 months before the opening of our story, Garthe 
 and Hartley had encountered in New York, where 
 Garthe was staying for a time, uncertain of his 
 plans. He was bringing out a book, and was 
 ready to accept any position which offered. He 
 now told Hartley he was filling a place tempo 
 rarily as lecturer in mineralogy and demonstra 
 tor in laboratory work in two institutions near the 
 city. 
 
 In a way, the two men had absolutely nothing in 
 common, but their long habit of intimacy had 
 given them a basis of affection, and to-night, when 
 by chance each was experiencing some particular 
 need of feeling himself in touch with another 
 human being, they were inclined to be more than 
 usually cordial and expansive. Garthe s whole 
 manner, nevertheless, suggested a deep-seated 
 reserve not easily penetrated. In appearance he 
 was not, like Hartley, a man whose striking good 
 looks instantly took the eye. He was, however, 
 
30 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 of fair height, with a lithe figure, and his face was 
 at once powerful and refined. His forehead and 
 temples seemed full of concentrated energy and 
 purpose ; his eyes were dark and peculiar] - ex 
 pressive ; his mouth straight, well cut, w a 
 curve suggesting plenty of will ; his smile ins ^mt 
 and dazzling, although he did not waste it on 
 every occasion. Everything about him, in fact, 
 indicated equipoise, a reserve of force which he 
 was not ready to expend upon the first object that 
 offered. 
 
 Hartley, as we have said, instantly in high spirits, 
 entered into the spirit of the occasion and wrote 
 out an elaborate menu, which he flourished before 
 his cousin s face as a challenge. 
 
 " I 11 stand the expense for once," said Garthe. 
 " I ought to be willing to pay handsomely for a 
 companion. Until I saw you I experienced a freez 
 ing sense of isolation." 
 
 " Think of it ! It is pitiful, near a whole city 
 full ! " 
 
 44 The whole city full was nothing to me. 1 
 could think of nothing but a certain street, a 
 certain house, a certain room, and a certain little 
 chap who was eating his own heart in longing for 
 me as I for him. He was a naughty little chap 
 this morning, and to punish him I told him I 
 should not go home to dinner to-night." 
 
 " You punished yourself most, no doubt." 
 
 " One always does. It has lain like lead oil 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 31 
 
 my heart all day that he would be fretting over 
 it." 
 
 Hartley laughed, but not without sympathy. 
 
 " T r t dare say I may have a talent for the domes 
 tic .e observed, " only I have had no chance to 
 de, Sj iOp it." 
 
 " How do you manage ? Do you live alone ? " 
 
 " Oh yes. Edna is married, has four children, 
 and is wrapped up in her husband. I have nobody 
 else belonging to me. I sleep and take my break 
 fast at - - East Twentieth Street. At a quarter 
 to nine I go down town and I lunch there. Four 
 times out of the week, for six months in the year, 
 I dine out, and for at least three months I have 
 a bewildering choice of invitations, and sometimes 
 might eat half a dozen dinners a night. I have 
 been best man at a wedding to-day, and was asked 
 to stay afterwards for a high tea and later to go 
 to the opera with all the family party ; but I 
 declined, out of a foolish freak which has ended in 
 a fiasco. In fact, Lawrence, until I met you I was 
 in the very devil of a humor." 
 
 "It takes a little time to find out that the 
 universe was not created solely to answer one s 
 needs. I myself have been in a rage at the 
 blunders on the part of Providence." 
 
 " I did n t shirk the responsibility," said Hartley. 
 " I have been walking the streets, calling myself 
 ninny, blockhead, a light-headed superficial idiot 
 who mistakes all that glitters for gold. However, 
 
32 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 I have been in despair before and have got over it, - 
 and I dare say by the time we finish dinner I shall 
 have begun to feel that my blunder was reasonable 
 and that I am not altogether the fool I seem." 
 
 Garthe listened as if weighing the worth of the 
 confession. 
 
 " There are blunders and blunders," he observed. 
 " The important thing is not to make the irrepa 
 rable blunder." 
 
 " A man does n t do that until he makes a 
 foolish marriage," said Hartley. He was seasoning 
 his oysters with great nicety, and did not observe 
 that Garthe s lips were suddenly compressed and 
 that a little frown appeared between his eyebrows. 
 " In this particular instance," Hartley went on 
 with a half laugh, " I enjoy the unique consolation 
 that, having been warned in time, I was able to 
 sneak out of a false position. When I get over 
 the unpleasant sensation of being a whipped cur I 
 shall be glad it all happened as it did." 
 
 Garthe, perhaps not wholly liking the sound of 
 this confession, gave his cousin a penetrating glance, 
 as if wondering what lay behind the barriers of 
 that attractive personality. 
 
 " Oh, well," he said after a moment s silence, 
 "a man knows himself and his own mistakes, but 
 he can t know another man s." 
 
 Having said so much Hartley changed his tack, 
 and, throwing regrets to the winds, aimed at no 
 thing but making himself an agreeable companion. 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY, 33 
 
 Recovering his usual easy confidence in his own 
 powers, he tried to make Gar the conceive some 
 thing of the vivid and varied existence he had led ; 
 he epitomized his social experience, described 
 notable people, gave a hint of certain phases of 
 inside politics. Garthe listened, asking now and 
 then with a certain deliberateness an incisive 
 question which showed that his attention was held. 
 He was at any rate glad that his companion s 
 depression and misgiving had passed into exhilara 
 tion ; that he had eaten his dinner with a good 
 appetite, which seemed to show a healthy reaction 
 from his bitter mood. When they rose from 
 table it was after nine. If it were too late for a 
 play, Hartley suggested, something interesting 
 might be found at the variety theatres. But 
 Garthe said, No, he must go home. 
 
 " Come with me and see how I am settled," he 
 added, and Hartley accepted. 
 
 The house was situated in a quiet street far up 
 town, and stood almost in the centre of a long 
 block of yellow brick dwellings faced with Port 
 land stone, each exactly like its neighbor. Hartley 
 observed that even Garthe was obliged to take his 
 bearings and to glance at the number before he 
 could be certain which was his own domicile ; and, 
 piquing himself, as he did invariably, on possessing 
 every attribute, good taste included, in a higher 
 degree than his fellow-men, he said mentally that 
 when he chose a house he should insist on its having 
 
34 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 a physiognomy of its own. Once across the 
 threshold, however, any sense of stupid conformity 
 vanished, and he looked about with satisfaction. A 
 rich carpet of a dull red color covered the floor of all 
 the rooms ; the long, rather narrow parlor into which 
 Garthe ushered him was lined with low cabinets 
 and book-cases, their tops crowded with a jumble of 
 china, Oriental brasses, and Greek figurines ; 
 while above on the red walls were hung pictures, 
 chiefly etchings of old cities and famous buildings, 
 and of landscapes after the paintings of Daubigny, 
 Dupre, and Kousseau. Half way down the room 
 was a huge writing-table, and everywhere, on desks, 
 chairs, sofas, even on the rug, were piles of books. 
 Before the fire, beside a comfortable chair, stood a 
 small table with a shaded lamp for reading. 
 
 Garthe had said, on entering, " Look about you 
 for a minute, Ferdinand, while I run up and see 
 after the boy." He had let himself in with his 
 latch-key, and the house seemed empty. 
 
 44 Certainly, he has made himself comfortable," 
 Hartley observed to himself as he looked about him. 
 44 He has made himself very comfortable." 
 
 He experienced anew a swelling of desire after 
 his own share of the good things of the world. It 
 seemed to him almost tragic that his individual pos 
 sessions were so inadequate to his wishes. He did 
 not feel covetousness or envy of what was another 
 man s, indeed, Garthe s prosperity was of too 
 modest a description, too little aggressive, to stir 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 36 
 
 jealousy. Rather what Hartley experienced was a 
 desire to have a chance to get hold of himself, to 
 be himself ; to express the tastes, cravings, affec 
 tions, which were his very own. It was clear to him 
 that Garthe had not bought those things and strewn 
 them over the room to furnish it, but because each 
 article was part of the equipment of his daily life ; 
 the books were for reading and study ; the curios 
 to illustrate something he had seen and done ; the 
 specimens of ore in the cabinets what he had dis 
 covered and tested ; the desk was the place where he 
 wrote ; the chairs were to give him rest and ease ; the 
 fire was to warm him, and the lamp to light him. 
 All was Garthe s. It was his own little world. 
 Hartley felt like an outcast in comparison. " By 
 Jove, it is enough to make one turn socialist," he 
 said to himself. 
 
 At this moment a voice called. 
 " I say, Ferdy, do you mind stepping up here ? " 
 Hartley bounded up the stairs. " Are you good 
 for another flight ? " Garthe inquired, meeting him 
 on the landing. " Larry sleeps on the third floor 
 that Amelia may be near him." They ascended 
 together. " I told you," Garthe went on with a half 
 laugh, " that I was hard on my little chap this 
 morning. He was disobedient, and I don t like him 
 to be disobedient ; and although it was a small mat 
 ter, he lied to me. He owned up. I could n t have 
 the heart to whip him, but I told him I could not 
 come home and dine with such a bad boy. Amelia 
 
36 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 says he was restless and unhappy all day, watched 
 for me and made himself sick with crying when I 
 did not come." lie led the way into the front bed 
 room, where the light was turned low and shaded. 
 In the centre of the room was a little brass bed 
 with a canopy, and there lay the boy asleep, with a 
 white Angora cat curled up on one side and on the 
 other a Skye terrier, who winked a sleepy eye and 
 wagged his tail. Ranged round the bed, the pil 
 lows, the tables, and chairs, were troops of tin sol 
 diers, mechanical toys, a cow with a bell, a wooden 
 horse with three legs, and a small music box. 
 
 " He gathered all his possessions to comfort 
 him," said Garthe. " Poor little Larry, 1 was hard 
 on him." 
 
 I lartley leaned over the sleeper, a fine well-grown 
 child with curly brown hair, a flushed handsome 
 face, full at the forehead and temples and narrowing 
 below. 
 
 " See the dried tears on his cheek," said Garthe. 
 
 He stooped and kissed these evidences of tears, 
 sighing as he did so. 
 
 "He is a beautiful little fellow," Hartley said 
 warmly. 
 
 tfc Well-made, well-knit. Look at his arm ! just 
 feel his calves ! " and Garthe uncovered the body 
 and held up a sturdy little leg. " He is never tired, 
 never out of spirits, at least when he can be near 
 me." Garthe sighed again. u His high spirits show 
 me the need of making him surrender his will." 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 37 
 
 " Does he look like his mother ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. He is like me." 
 
 " I confess I don t see the resemblance. Have 
 you her portrait?" 
 
 "No," said Garthe in a tone which warned 
 Hartley he might be stirring painful sensibilities. 
 Curious, nevertheless, to elicit something about the 
 child s mother, lie went on. 
 
 " I knew she died early. I never happened to 
 hear just how long your married life lasted." 
 
 " Just over three years," said Garthe. 
 
 " You lost her before you pulled up stakes and 
 went to Europe ? " 
 
 " Yes, Larry was a mere baby of fifteen months 
 or so." 
 
 " Pretty rough on the poor little motherless fel 
 low, to say nothing of what it must have been to 
 you." 
 
 Garthe stooped and put his cheek against the 
 boy s. 
 
 " I wish he would wake up," he said. " I hate to 
 think he may dream I have n t come back." 
 
 He lifted the light form out of the bed and 
 pressed it passionately against his breast. The 
 closed senses of the little sleeper unlocked suffi 
 ciently to make him respond to the caress ; an ex 
 pression, roguish, keen, and sweet, came into his 
 face ; his eyes half unclosed ; he murmured a few 
 inaudible words. Still he did not wholly wake. 
 Garthe laid him back on the pillow, covered him up 
 
38 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 carefully, called the Skye and the Angora, and led 
 the way downstairs. 
 
 "This is his playroom," he remarked as they 
 stopped after descending the first flight. " Here is 
 my bedroom, just behind." 
 
 Everywhere there were signs of order and plea 
 santness : an air of readiness for the master. 
 
 " I like your house," said Hartley. " It seems 
 made to live in." 
 
 "Yes, just big enough for me. The street is 
 quiet, and outside I am so exactly like everybody 
 else nobody would suspect me of having an identity 
 of my own." They had now reached the first floor. 
 "This is the dining-room, and in the yard I have 
 built a small laboratory. Larry and I are as com 
 fortable as two peas in a pod." 
 
 " They say a man has no right to be comf ortable 
 without a wife to look after him." 
 
 " A woman has no idea of home comfort," Garthe 
 observed with cool disdain. " A house to her is a 
 prison. She is always pining to be outside of it/ 
 
 Hartley stared. " Are n t you a little hard on 
 the gentler sex ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 Garthe did not illustrate his statement or enlarge 
 on it. 
 
 " I have an Englishman, by the name of Button, 
 and his wife, to look after the house and take care 
 of the boy," he went on. " Button has some janitor 
 work outside and does a few odd jobs, but is on 
 hand most of the time. He and Amelia lost a bo}% 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 39 
 
 and perhaps that helps to make them fond of 
 Larry. Besides, they are well off here. Amelia 
 is a reasonably good cook, and has the sense to 
 keep out of the way when I don t want her and 
 within reach when I do." 
 
 "You are lucky." 
 
 " It is a place to hide in," said Garthe. " I 
 hate a crowd." 
 
 " I envy you with all my heart. But I could n t 
 live so. I must see people. I must be where 
 something is going on. Settled down as you are 
 here, I should dwindle into nothing. Not but that 
 I get tired to death of club life, of going out, 
 talking about things I don t care a button for, and 
 listening to people I don t believe in. Still it 
 passes the time. When a man cannot afford tc 
 marry he must take what he can get." 
 
 " When he does marry he takes what he can get," 
 Garthe observed in a peculiar tone. The Angora 
 cat was purring on a cushion, sheathing and un 
 sheathing her claws, and blinking at the fire. The 
 Skye had curled himself up in a ball close beside 
 her. 
 
 "Well, my dear fellow," Hartley exclaimed, 
 laughing as he spoke, " as you have been married 
 and I have not been married you understand the 
 subject and I do not understand the subject. But 
 you ought not to rob an innocent young fellow of 
 his illusions. I am a marrying man. If I had 
 your income and a house like this, I should want a 
 
40 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 pretty woman opposite me here, or closer, just be 
 side me, with her book or workbasket on the low 
 table, a slim foot held up to the fire, and a hand 
 within reach of mine. You ought to marry again. 
 I tell you, Lawrence, you ought to do it on account 
 of the boy. He must be lonely." 
 
 i(r Yes, he s lonely when I am away." 
 
 " Do you know many agreeable people in New 
 York ? " 
 
 " Few or none. I have no wish to go into 
 society." 
 
 " Edna might do something for you. I could 
 introduce you to 
 
 " I thank you, I am very well off as I am. I 
 am thrown occasionally with men of niy own 
 interests and pursuits." 
 
 " You do not care to meet women ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 Hartley was somewhat piqued. " I dare say you 
 are wise to say 4 Enough is enough, not to run 
 after the too much. Your house is comfortable and 
 offers all you yourself require. If you had a wife 
 she might make it a grievance that it is not in a 
 fashionable neighborhood ; that it is too far from 
 the shops and the theatres. Either she would be 
 obliged to go out constantly or she would complain 
 of the long, lonely days." 
 
 Garthe uttered a short, harsh laugh. " So that 
 is the elysium you propose for me," he said. 
 " Certainly you do not seem to have much more 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 41 
 
 rose-pink optimism about the sex than I have. 
 Don t say I converted you to my opinion that they 
 are all hungering and thirsting after sensation, 
 never so much at home as when they are abroad. 
 If a man craves domestic comfort, let him look at 
 the crowds of women in the street whose only 
 object is to kill time ! " 
 
 " Oh, come !" said Hartley. " You are prejudiced, 
 one-sided. There are plenty of domestic women." 
 
 " You cannot take up a magazine, even a daily 
 paper, without having Woman s Work, Woman s 
 Progress, Woman s Mission, staring you in the 
 face. And what it means is that the whole sex is 
 rebellious, revolutionary, dissatisfied, each craving 
 a personal career. They have got the idea into 
 their heads that they are sphinxes, and are bent on 
 elucidating their own riddle." 
 
 His tone, his glance, the lines about his mouth, 
 all showed that he was in earnest. It might have 
 seemed as if he were under the goad of some tyran 
 nous reality, clear to his own perceptions. 
 
 " However," he proceeded, with a gesture as of 
 concession, " if your experience of women is more 
 fortunate than mine, I congratulate you." 
 
 " When a man hates women," said Hartley, " it 
 is because he has loved one of them too much. I 
 have kept on the safe side." 
 
 "You re sensible. But when you told me 
 to-night that something had gone wrong with you, I 
 at once laid it to a woman." 
 
42 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Hartley had grown suddenly serious. 
 
 " But I was not in love," he said thoughtfully. 
 Then in a different manner he burst out, " Hang it, 
 I have not the peace of mind, the leisure, to fall in 
 love. I m too restless, too much at the mercy of 
 events. When I get up in the morning I have 
 other things to think about. You know how I 
 stand financially, just where I was six months 
 ago when I borrowed live hundred dollars of you. 
 Koylance ties me hand and foot ; he is afraid of his 
 own shadow. If it were not for a little outside 
 business of my own I should not know where to 
 look for ready money, and lately every venture has 
 been unlucky." 
 
 " Things have gone wrong to-day ? " 
 
 " You were right about there being a woman in 
 the case. I have been running after a widow for 
 more than a year, supposing her to be rich ; now it 
 turns out that she has little or nothing." 
 
 " Did you find it out before you had made an 
 offer?" 
 
 u I am going to tell you exactly what happened. 
 I want to see how it strikes a contemporary. Did 
 you ever hear of Bernard Garner, the lawyer, who 
 died four years ago ? He left a young wife, and a 
 daughter not far from her age. They spend their 
 summers at the Goddards on the Hudson, next to 
 Edna s country house, and we were first thrown 
 together there. Here in town I have visited them 
 
 o 
 
 constantly. The widow was charming, the step. 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPOEAEY. 43 
 
 daughter was charming. It was a case of How 
 happy could I be with either ! It was all so easy, 
 so natural. I seemed to have stepped into a place 
 ready made for me. They lived handsomely, 
 there was every reason in the world for supposing 
 they were rich as Croesus. Well, to-night " 
 He broke off suddenly. 
 
 " Well, what happened to-night ? Did you offer 
 yourself to the wrong one ? " 
 
 " I had no chance to offer myself to anybody," 
 said Hartley, and without the faintest reserve 
 recounted his experience. 
 
 " There sat the girl, calm, proud, sincere, turning 
 to. me with her splendid eyes and throwing down 
 the fact like a challenge that they were poor." 
 
 Garthe, with an intent, rather puzzled look, had 
 followed the confession, evidently trying to under 
 stand the logic of the situation. 
 
 " Do you mean that she wished you to come to 
 the point?" 
 
 " On the contrary, I suspect that she had heard 
 I could only afford to marry a rich woman, and so 
 considered it honest and just to put the true state 
 of the case before me." 
 
 " What did you say to her ? " 
 
 "Nothing to the point. Fancy, if you can, the 
 insufferable position of a man who, when he hears 
 that the woman he has been making love to has 
 not money enough to support him, simply grins 
 like a baboon and withdraws." 
 
44 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 " I can t fancy it," said Garthe. " I advise yon 
 to go back to-morrow and offer yourself like a man." 
 
 Hartley, however, had relegated the incident to a 
 past stage in his experience, and now looked back 
 upon it, if not with complacency, at least with 
 composure. 
 
 "No," he said, "there is no step backward. 
 They do not want me. The widow must marry 
 money, just the same as I must marry money. I 
 fancy Constance is glad to get me out of the way. 
 She is passionately devoted to her step-mother." 
 
 " You are sure it was not a mere test of your 
 disinterestedness ? " 
 
 "Quite sure," said Hartley. "I was in the 
 wrong all the time. To begin with, it was the girl 
 I was actually a little in love with. I can t 
 exactly explain it, but my instinct sounded her 
 through, and I did not think she cared about me ; 
 while the other However, I will not be such a 
 coxcomb as to say that anybody ever cared a 
 button about me. The odd circumstance is that 
 the girl is, compared with the stepmother, very 
 well off. I m always making mistakes." 
 
 " I tell you," said Garthe, " you will never get 
 over the torment of this until you put yourself 
 right, no matter what happens afterwards. Go 
 back to-morrow aud offer yourself." 
 
 u I would to the girl, willingly." 
 
 " Because she has some money ? " Garthe de 
 manded indignantly. 
 
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY. 45 
 
 " No ; because if it is possible for me to fall in 
 love with any woman she is that woman. Don t 
 be too hard on me, Lawrence," Hartley went on 
 with a groan. " My fate is not too easy. It cuts 
 me off from generous impulses." 
 
 Garthe was sensible of so much confusion in his 
 ideas concerning essential points in the story that 
 he did not venture to make up his mind against his 
 cousin, who invariably posed as something better or 
 worse than he actually was. By this time it was 
 midnight, and Hartley although declaring that 
 he shuddered at the idea of going to his lonely 
 room to find his groveling self for sole companion 
 rose to go. Garthe detained him a few mo 
 ments, put a few questions, then sent him away 
 happier and richer. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 
 
 WHEN Bernard Garner brought home his sec 
 ond wife, the only child of his old friend Ailing- 
 ton Pierpont of Virginia, Constance was a girl of 
 thirteen, and her mother had been dead ten years. 
 Her two sisters were already married, her brothers 
 were at college, and henceforward this sweet, bright 
 young step-mother made the first interest in her 
 life, drew from her, ardor, devotion, loyalty, a 
 longing for self-sacrifice, a feeling that she must 
 not only love but guard. For Constance divined 
 by instinct, although she had never quite for 
 mulated her idea, that Kathleen s strong point 
 was not logic or discrimination. Kathy herself 
 confessed it. " But then," she would explain, " I 
 was not braced up by discipline ; I was not really 
 educated. We could not afford it, and papa always 
 said that a born lady was endowed by Heaven with 
 whatever she ought to know, and that he consid 
 ered it a risk to interfere with the intentions of a 
 wise Providence. Then Mr. Garner always told 
 me he was glad I was not learned, that it was 
 enough for a woman to know how to spell, and that 
 two and two make four. 1 confess I never could 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 47 
 
 understand clearly that two and two do make four, 
 but, you see, I was brought up on fairy stories and 
 the Arabian Nights, and have always expected odd, 
 delightful, and surprising things to happen." 
 
 It had been one of these unexpected events when 
 she was snatched from her decaying Virginian 
 home to preside over Bernard Garner s house in 
 New York. Mr. Garner was fond of his young 
 wife, but he was an active man, engrossed in busi 
 ness and politics, and was obliged to content him 
 self with giving her all the money she could spend, 
 and leaving her and Constance to take care of each 
 other. He lived but a few years after this mar 
 riage, dying with awful suddenness, of heart failure, 
 the effect of exhaustion and bad air, at the end of 
 an arduous and exciting case in court. He had 
 been wholly free from organic disease, and his 
 death was apparently a mere accident. Like a 
 thief in the night it had come and had robbed 
 Kathleen and Constance, not only of husband and 
 father, but of the ease and prosperity his continued 
 life would have insured them. Then a bank which 
 held a large balance belonging to him was ruined 
 in consequence of heavy defalcations, and other 
 losses followed ; for troubles, as everybody knows, 
 come " not as single spies, but in battalions." 
 
 " What will Kathy do? " was the one thought of 
 Constance in season and out of season. 
 
 " She must marry again. That is her metier" 
 the brothers and sisters had said. And although 
 
48 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 the idea of death did not soon efface itself iu the 
 house, where everything seemed still to watch and 
 wait for the absent master, Constance had no re 
 course save to hold to this solution of the problem, 
 although for her to have framed it in words to 
 Kathleen would have been a treason, a profanation. 
 It was simply that, weighing her individuality 
 against Kathy s, she found it essential to herself 
 that Kathy should be happy, have wide horizons, a 
 chance for enthusiasm, power to make her life 
 beautiful. Constance had not, so far, thought in 
 the least about her own personal cravings, but her 
 imagination was full of fancies about Kathy s 
 future, Kathy s happiness. She was still so young 
 that she had not fitted her abstract ideas to the 
 concrete. Kathy was to marry again because she 
 needed, for all the coming years, affections to fix 
 her heart, simple duties to which to bind herself. 
 Gay and sad by turns, delighting in change, in new 
 ideas, launching into crude ambitions, she was to 
 Constance the most charming, the most feminine, 
 the most dangerous of all women, the one most re 
 quiring a support and guide. A happy second mar 
 riage now, which should bring her a good husband 
 and children, that was the destiny Constance 
 desired to appoint for her. The girl s youthful 
 enthusiasm, always ready to interpret the world and 
 its events nobly, was shown in the way in which she 
 had for a time idealized Ferdinand Hartley. He 
 must be the man she had dreamed of for Kathy, 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 49 
 
 because he came at the moment he was needed, like 
 the prince in fairy tales. He was handsome, sat 
 well, walked well, talked fairly, and could amuse 
 women with an air of wonderful elegance. It was 
 not strange that he started in the mind of Con 
 stance a train of subtle sentiment and that she in 
 vested him in his character of Kathy s suitor 
 with romantic glamour. And, indeed, up to a certain 
 point, he played his part to perfection. The stage 
 seemed to be his ; the circle of the Garners during 
 their period of deep mourning was a small one. It 
 was made up of the Challoners, of John Marchmont, 
 the artist, a friend and contemporary of Bernard 
 Garner, who had always come and gone in the 
 house with the most perfect intimacy, of Con 
 stance s sisters, Mrs. Goddard and Mrs. Tracy, and 
 their families, and of her brothers. Naturally, 
 with Ferdinand Hartley as the one outsider, his 
 attentions did not pass without comment; and 
 when it was made clear that Mrs. Garner was the 
 object of his pursuit, each of the lookers-on, except 
 Mrs. Challoner and John Marchmont, was willing 
 to accept him for what he seemed to be, a young 
 man of good looks and good family, a fairly desir 
 able parti, who was entitled to everybody s gratitude 
 for taking Kathy off their hands. It was Mrs. Chal 
 loner, invariably keen-eyed, who detected some 
 thing unstable, flickering and inconsistent in Hart 
 ley ; and it was John Marchmont who, the moment 
 he found an ally in her, went a step further and 
 
50 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 suggested to Steven Goddard that they were too 
 ready to give away Bernard Garner s widow ; that 
 she was very young, very ignorant of the world, and 
 that she ought not to be permitted a chance to 
 become attached to a man unless his eligibility had 
 been subjected to a rigid scrutiny. 
 
 Thus it had been John Marchmont who was actu 
 ally behind events and had set the forces in play 
 whose operations we have seen. Awakened to a 
 sense of his responsibilities, Steven Goddard finally 
 bestirred himself, and it had been at the very wed 
 ding when Hartley had figured as best man, that 
 he suddenly startled his sister-in-law by saying, " I 
 don t like that fellow s going to your house so 
 much. They say he is heavily in debt, that he 
 wants a rich wife. Can it be that he supposes 
 Mrs. Garner has money?" 
 
 "Mr. Hartley in debt! " repeated Constance in 
 dismay. " Wanting a rich wife ! How could he 
 possibly believe that Kathy has money ? 
 
 " I have it from men who know him, that he has 
 always laughed at the idea of marriage unless he 
 could come into at least ten thousand a year by 
 it." 
 
 "Is he so mercenary?" Constance murmured, 
 feeling as if all she believed in was melting from 
 beneath her feet. 
 
 " He is hard up, he is no more mercenary than 
 anybody else. It is the way of the world. / think 
 ne ought to be informed just how Mrs. Garner 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 51 
 
 stands ; but I don t know exactly who is to tell 
 him." 
 
 Constance knew, for her own conscience was on 
 edge. She could not have slept without gathering all 
 her forces into one effort to make everything clear 
 to the man who had been perhaps deceived by the 
 clever little expedients she had felt it graceful and 
 becoming to use in order to hide the fact that they 
 were not so rich as they appeared to be. Honor, 
 justice, common kindness, dictated her course. She 
 hardly gave herself time to make a mental predic 
 tion as to how Hartley would bear the test of this 
 sharp and importunate reality. The demand of 
 her heart and soul was to tell the truth. For the 
 moment she cared for nothing else. Then, when he 
 had crept away that night after hearing her con 
 fession, tears filled her eyes and brimmed over. 
 She had detected in the man she had idealized, not 
 only keen disappointment, but an utter absence of 
 any real feeling. The cohesive force of her im 
 pressions about him seemed suspended as by a 
 touch of magic ; only a sense of her mistake re 
 mained, a bewildering experience. She herself 
 might rejoice to feel that she had tested Hartley 
 all round, and might be free of all illusions concern 
 ing him forevermore. But how about Kathy, in 
 whom, all these months, she had been trying to 
 rouse aspirations and sensibilities which must now 
 make her very unhappy? How should she face 
 Kathy ? To have touched upon the subject in cold 
 
52 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 blood, voluntarily to have told her step-mother that 
 Hartley had been weighed in the balance and found 
 wanting, was impossible. She heard a rustle on 
 the stairs, a step in the hall, and shook off her tears 
 disdainfully. 
 
 Kathy glided in, looked round the room, and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Hartley has gone ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Constance, " I did not try to keep 
 him ; I told him there was no dinner. Naturally, 
 like other men bent on dining, he went away." 
 
 " Greedy creature," murmured Kathy. u But I 
 am glad. Look at me, Constance ! Tell me I am 
 lovely, enchanting, for I know I am." 
 
 " That gown is certainly very artistic." 
 
 " And becoming ; no cold perfection for me ! It 
 is a delightful gown. Don t you know some gowns, 
 when you first put them on, do not seem quite one s 
 own? One realizes that one may finally get used 
 to them, but for the moment one is constrained, ill 
 at ease I But this makes me feel light as air, sure 
 of myself, bold. I can do anything in it, stand, 
 sit, waltz Look at me all round. Whichever 
 way one looks at it, that seems to be the very best 
 point of view." 
 
 " You are delicious. But it is time for you to 
 
 go-" 
 
 They embraced as if for a year s separation. 
 
 " Do you know, Constance," faltered Kathy, 
 clinging close, " beginning to dress and go out 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 53 
 
 again makes me feel that I cannot get over miss 
 ing your father. It does not seem quite worth 
 while to put on new gowns unless he can look at 
 me." 
 
 Kathy returned triumphant from the dinner 
 party, with so many fresh impressions that she did 
 not at first, when days passed without Hartley s 
 coming to the house, seem to miss him. But after 
 a week had gone by she said to Constance : 
 
 " Do you suppose Mr. Hartley could possibly 
 have been vexed with me for going away that 
 evening? " 
 
 " Oh, no." 
 
 " He told me he did not approve of my going. 
 He put it to my conscience whether I ought to go." 
 
 " Mr. Hartley likes to make a striking impres 
 sion. He does not particularly care what it is. 
 Romeo describes the manner of man he is when he 
 says of Mercutio, He will speak more in a minute 
 than he will stand to in a month. 
 
 " Ye-es," said Kathy, thinking of that kiss upon 
 her hand at the foot of the staircase. She would 
 have liked to ask Constance if it were a fault or 
 an absurdity or an impertinence in Hartley. If 
 the first or last she did not wish to expose him 
 to censure, and if the second to derision. She 
 gradually began to look upon all he had said and 
 done that night as a mistake of which he had 
 probably repented. Kathy herself made so many 
 mistakes, committed so many follies, she could be 
 
64 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GART1IE. 
 
 tender over the weaknesses of others. She decided 
 not to speak of it, to forget all about it, and 
 succeeded so well that when some two weeks later 
 she met Hartley the recollection of his indiscretion 
 had slipped from her mind. 
 
 This was on the occasion of a theatre party 
 made up by Mrs. Challoner. She had invited 
 eight people, but found herself flung over by two 
 of the men at the last moment, and accordingly 
 looked round the house, hoping to see some 
 acquaintances who might fill up her box sociably. 
 
 u Who is that with Ferdinand Hartley ? " she 
 inquired. 
 
 But Kathy, whom she addressed, had no idea 
 who the dark, slender man standing beside Hartley 
 in the aisle, waiting for the usher to find their seats, 
 might be. "Presentable, don t you think so?" 
 pursued Mrs. Challoner. "And whatever Ferdy 
 Hartley s faults are, he never means to make the 
 mistake of running after people he can make 
 nothing out of. Let s have them both." 
 
 Thus it was by chance rather than by intention 
 on any one s part that Lawrence Garthe was to 
 meet the Garners. He and Hartley had seen each 
 other frequently of late and "had come to the 
 theatre together on the second night of a new play 
 which had captured the public. AVhen the usher 
 brought Mrs. Challoner s card scribbled over with 
 an invitation to them both to join her party, 
 Garthe was ready to decline on the instant. It 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 55 
 
 was opposite to his habit and repellant to his 
 inclination to accept, but Hartley clutched his 
 arm. 
 
 " I must go, I can t decline under their 
 eyes." 
 
 " Go, then ; go, by all means." 
 
 " I can t face them alone. They are both there. 
 I caught a glimpse of them just as I sat down and 
 have not been able to raise my eyes. You must 
 go with me." 
 
 " Nonsense. I can do nothing for you." 
 
 " But you can," said Hartley ; and his embarrass 
 ment was so clear that Garthe out of pity was 
 constrained to acquiesce and to follow his compan 
 ion to Mrs. Challoner s box. 
 
 Some secret operation of his mind, hidden al 
 most to himself, enlightened him at the instant he 
 entered as to the identity of the girl whose eyes 
 met his with a clear unfaltering look. That was 
 Constance, he said to himself, and the pretty, 
 radiant creature was the widow. Outwardly he 
 was the quietest of men, but it suddenly struck 
 him sharply that he was a fool to have wandered 
 out of the path he had appointed to himself. Not 
 that he magnified the possible significance of the 
 event or had any ominous vision of possible 
 results to follow it. But the sense of pleasure 
 with which he encountered the four women, Mrs. 
 Challoner, her niece, and the Garners, startled him 
 with its undercurrent of strangeness, its almost 
 
56 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 pathetic contrast to his usual mood. He said to 
 himself again that he had joined the party of 
 strangers only because he apprehended the delicacy 
 of Hartley s position and felt for him. 
 
 Hartley, however, after a single moment of 
 discomposure, glided with his usual ease through 
 the ordeal. What he had dreaded had been some 
 change of attitude on the part of Mrs. Garner 
 and Constance. But after Mrs. Challoner, always 
 smiling, good-natured, and slightly satirical, had 
 welcomed him, after he had bowed to Blanche, he 
 had turned to Kathleen, who, with just her usual 
 manner, told him that he had deserted them of late, 
 but that they had been talking of sending him 
 an invitation to dinner. Even Constance shook 
 hands with him in a friendly way. Too much 
 kindness may have the effect of cruelty, and 
 Hartley, as he took his stand behind the group of 
 women, did not loom up as a giant to his own per 
 ceptions. On how fine a needle s point a man s 
 supremacy is balanced ! How quickly the scale is 
 turned ! Instead of embarrassing him by criticism 
 or curiosity, everybody was looking at Garthe, 
 whom John Marehmont had known in Europe and 
 bad greeted warmly as an old acquaintance. 
 Hartley knew very well that nothing pleased Mrs. 
 Challoner so much as a new acquaintance whom 
 she could conceive in an imaginative way and 
 invest with all the charming qualities she had 
 found lacking in the people she had tried and 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 57 
 
 tested. Hartley dwindled in his own eyes as he 
 watched Garthe drop into the chair she indicated 
 behind her, just at the right angle for Mrs. 
 Garner to turn towards him, effectively showing 
 that slight charming face with its ripple of smiles 
 and blushes under the cloud of fair hair. He 
 could see that Garthe, as he bent forward and 
 addressed her, constantly smiled in return. 
 
 Garthe himself was conscious of finding beauty 
 in Kathleen, the sort of beauty that comes and 
 goes, that, absent, leaves a longing for it as for the 
 smile of a child. To realize just what he felt, 
 however, in this sudden and unexpected entrance 
 into a different world, would be to realize a chill 
 and empty atmosphere without real warmth and 
 without light, in which heat and color begin to 
 unite and burn, and to glorify the commonest 
 things into beauty. He was first moved by a 
 sense of welcome, then of charm. He sat bending 
 forward, giving ear quite impartially to the two 
 women as they confided to him and to each other 
 their crisp and laughing criticism of the leading 
 lady on the stage, whose chief effort seemed to be 
 to show that she had emulated Bernhardt, at least 
 in studying the effect of her own draperies. She 
 coiled about sinuously, sat in spirals, wheeled 
 round full-face at the same time that her back was 
 towards the audience, with her train spread out 
 like a peacock s tail ; and as she sat, reclined, rose, 
 embraced, or fainted with emotion, was, from her 
 
58 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 lack of any spontaneity or naturalness, a comic 
 display to these observers. 
 
 Garthe, amused, threw in a word now and then ; 
 but as he bent forward his eyes became gradually 
 riveted, not on the face of Kathleen, but on 
 Constance s pure, proud profile beyond. The girl 
 sat with her attention fixed apparently on the 
 stage, but twice she had looked at him with an 
 indefinable glance which had arrested his attention 
 and made him wonder what was behind it. " I 
 wish she would turn her face this way again," he 
 said to himself ; and, as if compelled, she did so, 
 and met his eyes, again with that large child-like 
 gaze of wistful curiosity, almost a solemnity of 
 expectation. There seemed to be no hindering 
 self-consciousness in her mind, no sense of the 
 effect of her own beauty, an utter absence both of 
 assumption and demand so far as she herself was 
 concerned ; yet at the same time he recognized in 
 her glance a sort of appeal. 
 
 " Who is your friend? " she inquired of Hartley 
 at the end of the first act. 
 
 Glad of a subject, Hartley gave a rapid sketch 
 of Garthe s career, although actually he was ac 
 quainted with but a narrow fringe of its incidents. 
 What he could touch upon with enthusiasm was 
 the character of his cousin, his intellect, his per 
 sistent, indomitable energy, the amount of hard 
 work he had already accomplished. 
 
 " Rather a fascinating face," said Constance. 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 59 
 
 u I never considered. Garthe handsome," said 
 Hartley, with the surprise natural to a really hand 
 some man when the good looks of another are 
 praised. 
 
 " Certainly not handsome, perhaps rather ugly," 
 Constance hastened to say, amply atoning to Hartley, 
 who thought she implied that if she found Garthe 
 acceptable it was by a triumph of mind over matter. 
 
 " See him laugh at what Mrs. Garner is saying," 
 Hartley murmured. " I actually feel as if fate had 
 brought them together." 
 
 Constance flushed proudly ; but had she not her 
 self seemed to make Kathy a merchantable thing 
 waiting in the market for a trader ? Having haz 
 arded this suggestion, and waited for a moment to 
 measure its effect, he went on : 
 
 " When you spoke to me the other night, I was 
 overwhelmed ; I might have said something, but what 
 right had I to speak ? No, I had no right ; I have 
 been glad since that even at the risk of being mis 
 understood I did not utter a syllable. Sometimes 
 when a man has been too presumptuous, all he can 
 do is to go away no matter where." 
 
 Constance looked at him, bewildered, but at the 
 same time reassured by this frank and free allusion. 
 
 "I simply wished to let you understand," she 
 began, but he made a little gesture. 
 
 " Shall we forget it all? " he asked. 
 
 " With all my heart," she returned. 
 
 " It was like cutting my hand off, like tearing 
 
60 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 my heart out," he said. " But it is done, and now 
 that I am here again with you both I feel grateful 
 to you. Don t be afraid of me, I have weighed 
 everything. I have surrendered, I have the peace 
 of mind which comes to a man when he accepts 
 defeat ; but there is Garthe who has succeeded in 
 everything he has undertaken. He shines me 
 down." 
 
 If the passionate pain of the lover did not ring 
 in these words, they were less likely to make Con 
 stance feel remorse. It pleased her heart and head 
 that Hartley was not as unworthy as she had feared. 
 It was also a relief that Kathy, next day, seemed to 
 have forgotten him, and spoke only of Lawrence 
 Garthe. 
 
 Both men were coming to dinner that evening, 
 and it was natural for Constance to tell all she 
 had heard about the antecedents of the new ac 
 quaintance ; how he had been married before he was 
 twenty-three, had lost his wife, who had left an in 
 fant son ; how he lived quietly up-town in a com 
 fortable little house, and was engaged in bringing 
 out a book. Constance could tell so much, although 
 she and Garthe, while vividly conscious of each 
 other, had not exchanged a word. It was Kathy 
 who was able to describe him more exactly. She 
 admired him, she declared : his speech was easy and 
 deliberate ; he was always himself, never abrogated 
 his individuality, did not strive for effect; his 
 glance though searching was sympathetic ; his smile 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 61 
 
 was a delightful surprise. One tried to make it re 
 turn. 
 
 Constance could only say to herself that when 
 half-gods go the gods arrive. Kathy had never 
 spoken of Hartley with so much enthusiasm. 
 Never, never would she, Constance, endeavor again 
 to stir an impulse in another ; but, not to thwart 
 what was a clear case of destiny, she agreed with 
 Kathy that Garthe s face was interesting, clearly 
 cut, thoughtful, yet capable of lighting up into de 
 cided charm. It was very decided the face of a 
 man who had suffered ; not only who had suffered, 
 but who was familiar with suffering, who had ac 
 cepted suffering and the discipline it brought. 
 
 John Marchmont, habitually conscious of being 
 too old, too grim, too gray about the temples to 
 make an attempt to win Bernard Garner s widow, 
 yet who had contrived rather neatly to get rid of 
 Hartley as a possible rival, was rather startled, on 
 coming to the house that evening, to find that a new 
 star had risen in Kathy s firmament. But then 
 to elderly people the world is always inconven 
 iently crowded by the young, the aspiring, the 
 revolutionary. 
 
 Garthe was, as a stranger, accorded the first 
 place. He led Mrs. Garner out to dinner, and on 
 his side observed with interest that John March- 
 niont escorted Mrs. Challoner and himself took the 
 foot of the table with an air of being at home in the 
 house. He was a tall man with gray hair and 
 
62 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 mustache, and brown eyes of singular brilliancy. 
 Mrs. Challoner was a woman of fifty, dark, odd, pi 
 quant, rather ugly except for her bright glance and 
 the dazzling gleam of her teeth when she smiled. 
 She wore rose-color, with strings of pearls round her 
 throat and wrists, and gave the requisite touch of 
 color to the table, for Mrs. Garner was in black, di 
 aphanous with jet, but still black, and Constance had 
 on a white gown guiltless of a furbelow. Garthe 
 was seated between his two hostesses. Hartley had 
 brought Constance to the table ; then, after seating 
 her, had gone to his own place at Mrs. Garner s left. 
 
 Garthe again had experienced the same look from 
 Constance of nai ve interest and expectation which 
 had perplexed him the night before. To-night, hav 
 ing thought about it all day, it seemed to answer 
 some clear hope and expectation in his mind. He 
 longed to talk to her, but knew not how to 
 begin. It was Mrs. Challoner and John Marchmont 
 who at once plunged into a lively controversy. 
 They had met that day at a private sale of French 
 oil paintings. She had asked him what was best 
 worth buying, and had made a bid for a certain 
 picture, only to find that he had been before her 
 and had secured it for himself. 
 
 " I told you it was worth buying," he said by 
 way of defense. " I did not tell you it was to be 
 bought." 
 
 " But I coveted it the moment I set my eyes on 
 it. I was excessively disappointed." 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 63 
 
 " I had to have it, don t you see, my dear Mrs. 
 Challoner ? It was decreed from the very beginning 
 of things that Cazin was to paint that picture ex 
 pressly for me. There it was, a long flat road 
 edged with poplars trimmed almost to poles ; a gath 
 ering storm, thickening dusk ; a man toiling up the 
 footpath with a load of faggots on his back. And 
 I am only rich enough to buy a picture when I 
 cannot possibly go on living without it," whereas 
 you can buy them by the half-dozen, and at any 
 time." 
 
 "I liked that Cazin because it was so restful," 
 said Mrs. Challoner. " I could have put it on the 
 easel in my morning-room and have sat and looked 
 at it when I was tired and out of spirits." 
 
 " But then you never are tired or out of spirits. 
 People never are until they are old, and you are 
 young." 
 
 " If I am not old, who is old ? I wonder if you 
 pretend to be older than I am ? " 
 
 " I am a thousand years older. The moment 
 you are presented with a new idea you want it ; 
 while my feeling at all novelty is, Thank heaven, 
 I ve rounded that cape ! : 
 
 " The thing with me is, I can t afford to let my 
 self seem old. What would Mr. Challoner think 
 of it, particularly as we have no daughters ? " 
 
 "Yes, there it is, besides being young and 
 happy you enjoy the supreme consolation of a hus 
 band. Now I have no wife, never did have one." 
 
64 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " That is the reason you suppose a husband to be 
 a supreme consolation. Just as if the very reason 
 I longed so for that picture was because, having a 
 husband, I never can enjoy any proper peace of 
 mind." 
 
 "You and Challoner don t seem to wear each 
 other out. You told me this afternoon you had 
 not eaten a meal together for a week." 
 
 "That" is just what does wear me out. If a 
 woman could have her husband always under her 
 eye, there might be some possible comfort. But I 
 am compelled to lie in my bed and suffer each 
 morning to think of Mr. Challoner eating his break 
 fast alone. Then at luncheon he is miles away 
 down-town, who knows where ? Then if I go out 
 to dinner, and I assure you I go out to dinner as 
 often as anybody will ask me, he has a standing 
 engagement at his club. So you see ! No, it is 
 impossible to take it lightly, so long as you are 
 married, you are the victim of a dreadful sense of 
 responsibility- If your actual husband is not there, 
 the phantom of duty is." 
 
 Constance, laughing slightly, happened to glance 
 at Garthe and saw his face change under her eyes. 
 A little frown came between his brows, each 
 feature altered in expression. She said to herself 
 that she and Kathy ought to have been talking to 
 him instead of leaving him to be amused by this 
 intimate encounter between Mr. Marchmont and 
 Mrs. Challoner. But then the objection to a 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 65 
 
 small dinner is that every one is expected to talk 
 equally, yet the conversation is apt to be monopo 
 lized by one or two ; and to enjoy jokes, allusions, 
 and repartees, one requires to be well acquainted 
 with people, their idiosyncrasies, their likings and 
 dislikings. Mr. Garthe could not possibly know 
 what a devoted couple the Challoners were. But 
 Garthe caught Constance s perplexed and wistful 
 look, and smiled. 
 
 " I should like to see that Cazin," he observed, 
 and it was the first time he had actually addressed 
 her. 
 
 " I should like to see it too," she replied. " Mr. 
 Marchmont lives out at Bowhill, and Kathy shall 
 persuade him to give us a studio party, and you 
 shall go with us. Kathy dear, tell Mr. Marchmont 
 that we are longing, Mr. Garthe and I, to see his 
 Cazin." 
 
 " I am always asking the most incredible things 
 of Mr. Marchmont," said Kathy, looking/ up at 
 Garthe with her prettiest blush and her abashed in 
 fantile glance, but directing her voice across the 
 table, " and yet I am so dreadfully afraid of him." 
 
 The artist heard her and glanced back severely. 
 " I know that preamble by heart," he observed. 
 " How am I to be victimized now ? " 
 
 " It was Mr. Garthe who put it into my head," 
 she said, imploringly. " That is, he suggested to 
 Constance 
 
 " I care very little what Mr. Garthe wants, or 
 
66 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 even Constance. They are logical and reasonable 
 people and do not expect, in this world at least, to 
 get everything they have a fancy for," said Mr. 
 Marchmont. " It is when you set your heart on 
 anything that I tremble." 
 
 44 Do you mean that I am not logical, that I am 
 not reasonable ? " said Kathy with an air of 
 candid surprise. 
 
 44 1 mean that when you wish a thing to happen, 
 it has to happen, just as an earthquake, a 
 cyclone, a tornado, rushes on in its course, careless 
 of what stands in its way." 
 
 44 Very well," said Kathy with a gesture of 
 prerogative. 44 Since you say I have to have all I 
 ask for, so be it. I want you to give us a studio 
 party and show us the Cazin." 
 
 44 Fix the day and hour. Tell me whom to 
 invite and what you desire me to order to suit 
 your appetite." 
 
 44 Oh, just ourselves," said Kathy, extending a 
 fair arm in each direction as if to embrace the 
 tableful ; 44 and give us afternoon tea with choco 
 late and buttered muffins, and three-cornered sand 
 wiches full of all sorts of little relishes, and fancy 
 cakes with icing. As for the day, Mrs. Challo- 
 ner shall settle that. She has so many things 
 to do." 
 
 44 Nothing but what I will gladly throw over," 
 said Mrs. Challoner, 44 although it does seem little 
 short of effrontery to ask me to go twelve miles 
 
WHEN HALF- GODS GO. 67 
 
 out of town to see a picture I was shamefully 
 robbed of. But it will be a relief for a few hours 
 to do something I ought not to do. I am so worn 
 out, pulled in so many different directions. 
 Everybody comes to me to ask me to be a manager, 
 to be a patroness, to give my name, to give ten 
 dollars, to open my drawing-room 
 
 " But why do you do it ? " asked John March- 
 mont. " All you fashionable women put your 
 selves voluntarily into that treadmill existence, 
 and then complain." 
 
 " I can t afford to be left out in the cold. You 
 see I was born before these new ideas came in, and 
 in order to keep up with them I am obliged to go 
 everywhere, see, hear, touch, and handle every 
 thing. It is unspeakable what tasks the new 
 generation set us ! One year I actually attended 
 a cooking-school and made pates and croquettes 
 with my own hands." 
 
 " I wish I might have had the privilege of eat 
 ing them," said Hartley, who, with a feeling of 
 being left out in the cold, had consoled himself by 
 devoting himself to his dinner. 
 
 "You might not have lived to express your 
 gratitude for the favor. They were detestable. 
 My cook, who thought it a shocking waste of 
 good material, said, An sure, it s strange how 
 hard gentlefolks has to work to get hold of the 
 knack that the likes of us are born with ! How 
 ever, I had the experience. Then the next thing 
 
68 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GAETHE. 
 
 I was told to do was to visit the slums. My 
 money was not enough, I must give myself, shed 
 the light of my presence, have clubs, guilds, teach 
 the orphan girl to read and the orphan boy to sew. 
 It has been a liberal education to me. I have had 
 to cram everything except the alphabet in order to 
 keep up with the inquiring minds of the un 
 educated intellects I am supposed to instruct. 
 Finally, this year I am in the Modern Women 
 movement. We are studying Ibsen. Yesterday 
 I went to hear a lecture on his heroines, Nora, 
 Iledda Gabler, and Boletta." 
 
 " I don t read Ibsen myself," struck in Hartley, 
 " but I know enough about him from those who do 
 to venture the hope that we shall not hear of your 
 running away from Mr. Challoner." 
 
 " I don t feel sure. The lecture was given by a 
 Miss Eugenie Shepard, a Western woman," said 
 Mrs. Challoner. " She told us that Ibsen was the 
 first writer who had actually penetrated our prison 
 house and discovered how we are beating our life 
 out against the iron bars of custom, convention, 
 and submission. The trouble is in the dualism of 
 our natures, which has made us in the eternal 
 conflict between the wish to be ourselves and the 
 wish to merge ourselves in another existence sup 
 press our own individuality. However, the longing 
 of release has risen. Boletta said, 4 What is it to 
 us that the great world passes our doors? We 
 cannot join in the stream. I don t see much 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 69 
 
 difference between our life and that of the fish in 
 the pond there ! " 
 
 " Poor things ! What do you want ! To be 
 married ? Some of you are married," said John 
 Marchmont. 
 
 " Too many are married," retorted Mrs. Chal- 
 loner, shaking her head. " Girls have married, not 
 because they are in love, but because they are sick 
 of their maiden existences. But neither Ibsen nor 
 the lecture encouraged girls in that course, because 
 as wives they are certain to have even a worse 
 time and to be bored to death without hope of re 
 lease. Now what all women to-day long for and 
 are determined at any cost to attain is a chance 
 to peep into the real world, the world which they 
 have hitherto been forbidden to know anything 
 about, that is, man s world." 
 
 " I see now," said John Marchmont, " what is 
 behind some people s determination to get into my 
 studio by fair means or foul." 
 
 " It quite stirred me up," pursued Mrs. Chal- 
 loner. " I realized that marriage had deprived me 
 of my fair chance of development. I have always 
 had to think of what Mr. Challoner liked, all 
 my individuality has been subordinated to the task 
 of pleasing him. I have simply been his wife. 
 Just think of it ! " 
 
 " Just his wife ! Miserable fate ! No wonder 
 you feel hindered, cramped, thwarted." 
 
 " I suddenly experienced new sensations, new 
 
70 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 powers, and longed for new opportunities. But 
 how could I find them, living as I do with Mr. 
 Challoner, who bribes me with presents, spoils me, 
 and makes me happy and contented. I felt quite 
 in a rage with him! For Miss Shepard had 
 expressly said that what kept woman from de 
 velopment was just this foolish acceptance of her 
 fate, that not happiness, not content, was her 
 duty, but discontent with the conditions of her lot. 
 She herself ought not only to be discontented but 
 to make everybody else discontented. Oh, I did 
 feel furious with Mr. Challoner ! " 
 
 " Ibsen is laughing in his sleeve at the whole of 
 you," said John Marchmont. " He says within 
 himself, Shakespeare s heroines have been the 
 standard of womankind long enough. Now let us 
 have those who make not the charm, the joy, 
 the sanctity, but the misery of mankind : the 
 unlovely, the unlovable, the sexless. 
 
 u There were always the Regans and Gonerils," 
 said Garthe ; "always the furies and the fates." 
 
 Mrs. Challoner was conscious of the scorn in his 
 tone. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Garthe," she retorted, " one sees that 
 you have the true masculine feeling. We are to 
 develop only in the lines which please your taste, 
 your love for peace and quiet. You would expect 
 a woman to be just simply your wife." 
 
 " Just simply my wife ! " repeated Garthe. " I 
 am not so presumptuous. I expect nothing. Men 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 71 
 
 are at present mere lookers-on. What piques most 
 of us into making the effort to go on living is the 
 curiosity to see where you are to bring us." 
 
 " You will not admit that we have an equal right 
 with you to work, influence, emoluments, ambi 
 tion." 
 
 " But I never found out yet that I had a right 
 to anything. I have had certain duties and have 
 tried to fulfill them." 
 
 " That is what we women want, the right to a 
 common share of the duties of life." 
 
 Mr. Marchmont was laughing. " I did not 
 know," he said, " that we were invading your 
 province." 
 
 " Our province ! You have n t left us any. You 
 have claimed everything desirable, and left us to 
 keep house and tend babies." 
 
 You do not want to keep house and tend 
 babies any longer ? " 
 
 " No, we do not want to keep house and tend 
 babies any longer." 
 
 " You want no more privileges, no more protec 
 tion, no more domestic sanctity ? " 
 
 " No, we do not want any more privileges." 
 
 " Yes, you do. You want all your privileges ; 
 you want all your privileges and men s, too," said 
 Mr. Marchmont. "And you shall have them," he 
 added soothingly. But Mrs. Challoner was listen 
 ing to what Garthe was saying. 
 
 " I think you are right in feeling that pictures 
 
72 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 ought not to be shut up in private houses. Still, I 
 sympathize with collectors, for I admit that I am 
 selfish enough to prefer to own anything which 
 gives me enjoyment. Books, for example ; when I 
 recall a particular one, I like to think of my own 
 copy, on a certain shelf, where I can go and put 
 my hand on it, if need be, in the dark." 
 
 " And I dare say, Mr. Garthe, if you had a 
 wife," Mrs. Challoner broke in, " you would want 
 her always in a certain place, before the fire, or at 
 a window." 
 
 " Why should a man wish to marry a woman at 
 all," returned Garthe, " except that he finds it im 
 possible to be content away from her ? " 
 
 " Oh, I see, you would be a terrible husband," 
 said Mrs. Challoner, laughing. 
 
 " You describe me exactly." 
 
 " I mean, as I said just now, that you would 
 want a woman to be just simply your wife, nothing 
 else." 
 
 " I certainly do not consider that a woman, any 
 more than a man, can serve two masters, acknow 
 ledge a higher and a lower law." 
 
 " The higher law would be devotion to you." 
 
 Garthe looked at her and smiled, without other 
 answer. 
 
 tk Oh, I see, " she exclaimed, u you would be a 
 terrible despot." 
 
 He flushed. " I confess," he said, " that I con 
 sider a love of individual possession what gives 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 73 
 
 meaning to our lives. It is the test of our sin 
 cerity. If we covet any object and do not try with 
 all our might and main first to gain it and then 
 to keep it, it shows our half-heartedness." 
 
 " Don t fall in love with me," said Mrs. Chal- 
 loner. 
 
 " How can I help it? " Garthe retorted. 
 
 " But then Mr. Challoner is in the way. It s 
 safer, it s more proper, to set your heart on some 
 thing younger, more disencumbered." 
 
 " To the man who is looking for a primrose it 
 is no use to point to a bed of violets." 
 
 " You are very particular. Most of us have to 
 take what comes in our way," said Mrs. Chal 
 loner, who liked Garthe better and better all the 
 time. 
 
 Constance had been following the dialogue 
 with interest, absorbed in Garthe, in his looks, 
 in his words, in the meaning behind his words, 
 all the while gathering impressions of him, and 
 experiencing more than once as Mrs. Chal 
 loner pressed questions which must stir memo 
 ries more or less painful a vague uneasiness, a 
 sympathetic alarm. When he stood the test with 
 no sign of restless vanity, no poignancy of feeling, 
 she experienced a sensation of relief which was 
 almost like a personal joy. 
 
 Kathleen was talking of egoism and altruism. 
 
 " Now Constance wants things with all her heart 
 and soul," she observed, " yet she never in her life 
 
74 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 felt that anything belonged to her. Her jov in 
 possession is having things to give me." 
 
 At this speech Gar the s face lighted up with a 
 smile which flashed first at Kathy, then spent itself 
 on Constance. 
 
 " It is Constance he prefers," said John March- 
 mont, who was on the watch. 
 
 Mrs. Challoner was praising the salad-dressing. 
 Never had she tasted such a mayonnaise, she de 
 clared : seasoned to a marvel, at once cool, pene 
 trating, and piquant. 
 
 " We were born so, like your cook," explained 
 Kathy. " We never went to a cooking-school. 
 All that is necessary is to know how to beat, then 
 beat and "beat and beat and beat all in one di 
 rection. You see," she went on confidentially to 
 Garthe, " Constance and I go to great dinners which 
 ought to appall us, dinners which cost almost 
 anything a head. But such extravagance does 
 not appall us. In return we invite Mrs. Challoner 
 and other millionaires here to eat a meal which 
 costs nothing in particular. But everybody seems 
 to have just as good a time." 
 
 " Your cuisine is exquisite," said Mrs. Challoner. 
 " Meanwhile I ask for more of the mayonnaise." 
 
 " These two little coquettes understand even the 
 coquetry of the kitchen," said John Marchmont. 
 
 " It s all Constance," said Kathy. " All the 
 light, order, thrift, regularity, in this house ema 
 nate from her ! 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 75 
 
 " Evidently," said Constance, " Kathy wishes 
 me to praise her, but that is not necessary." 
 
 " Now," insisted Kathy, " let us each have money 
 in our purse and go out. We come to a shop and 
 see something I cannot live without. Constance 
 says, Do you really think that is what you want ? 
 It is what I have been longing for from the be 
 ginning of the world, I tell her. I buy it and 
 come home, feeling that I am the cleverest woman 
 in New York, buying the right thing at the right 
 moment ; next morning I wake up without any 
 money in my purse and feeling that I have bought 
 the wrong thing at the wrong moment. Accord 
 ingly, Constance goes and gets me what I need." 
 
 " You describe me exactly," said Hartley; " only, 
 as I never by any chance have any money in my 
 purse to pay for it, I have the bill at the end of 
 the month." 
 
 " I like running up bills. And some people 
 say," observed Kathy thoughtfully, " it is safer to 
 put your money in the bank and give checks ; but 
 even in banks money has a way of disappearing 
 mysteriously so that you can t account for it. Once 
 when I saw Mr. Garner drawing checks I said I 
 could imagine nothing more delightful than having 
 a check-book all to one s self. Accordingly he 
 gave me one, and put money in the bank in my 
 name. I felt like a capitalist. It was so nice to 
 fill out those blank forms. I did it whenever I had 
 a chance, and even Mr. Garner said I did it beau- 
 
76 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 tifully. But all at once when I was going on 
 swimmingly he came to me, holding up his hands. 
 4 My dear child, he cried, 4 you Ve overdrawn your 
 account. I did not understand what he meant, and 
 he explained that I had used up all the money, and 
 more. I insisted that it was impossible. I proved 
 it, too, for I brought the book, and I had not used 
 more than half the checks. I never could under 
 stand how, when there they were, the money was 
 still gone." 
 
 Kathy liked to fling herself into her story bodily, 
 as it were, and now, as she had probably moved her 
 feet in sympathy with her little gesticulations, she 
 had contrived to drop her slipper under the table. 
 Then having come to this point, she blushed, 
 looked exceedingly disconcerted, and went on, try 
 ing to grope and recover the lost article, saying, 
 with quite a different look, manner, and voice : - 
 
 44 So Mr. Garner took away my check-book, and 
 said, 4 Buy what you like, child, and send the bills 
 to me. So afterwards I bought what I liked and 
 sent the bills to him." 
 
 Everybody was gazing at the speaker, wondering 
 what had suddenly eclipsed her high spirits. 
 
 44 And did that please Mr. Garner ? " Mrs. 
 Challoner inquired, to break the pause that ensued. 
 
 44 Not invariably," replied Kathy with a sigh and 
 seeming ready to slip out of her chair. 
 
 44 Nothing about his wife s expenditures ever does 
 quite please a man," said Mrs. Challoner sooth- 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 77 
 
 ingly, wondering why the hostess did not give the 
 signal for the ladies to rise. 
 
 " Perhaps that is the reason you all like Ibsen," 
 Hartley suggested. 
 
 Still, Kathy, with a look of trouble and indeci 
 sion, writhed in her chair. 
 
 " Well, mamma dear," said Constance, herself 
 making the move ; and covered with confusion, and 
 by the most desperate effort, Kathy started to her 
 feet and, clutching at Constance s arm, limped to 
 the door, passing Mr. Marchmont and Hartley, who 
 were holding back the portieres, with a shyness 
 which forbade her to raise her eyes. 
 
 " Mercy on us ! " said Mrs. Challoner as the ladies 
 gained the hall. " What has happened to you ?" 
 
 For answer Kathy lifted a little foot in a black 
 silk stocking. 
 
 " I lost it," she said tragically. 
 
 The men inside heard Mrs. Challoner s peal of 
 laughter, and at the same moment Garthe stooped 
 and picked up a very small black satin slipper. 
 
 " Only a woman s shoe," he said, as he put it on 
 the table, " but what a pretty one ! " 
 
 " Well, you are a Prince Charming. I hide my 
 diminished head," said Hartley. " That accounts 
 for our hostess s embarrassment. She loses every 
 thing, slippers, gloves, handkerchiefs, hairpins, 
 and brooches. It comes from her way of throwing 
 herself into her subject without being sure she can 
 scramble out again." 
 
78 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 John Marchmont looked at the slipper, quite 
 staggered. His envy was palpable, at least to 
 Garthe. 
 
 " Then her grasp of finance is so original," 
 pursued Hartley. " She once confided to me that 
 her husband used to tell her that often as he sup 
 posed he had got to the very end of her ignorance, 
 she constantly surprised him by a fresh instance." 
 
 " Her mistakes are charming," said John March 
 mont. 
 
 " Oh, I grant that, I grant it easily." 
 
 " And for my part I admire a woman with a 
 touch of the child about her, who never quite grows 
 up." 
 
 "She is quite sufficiently clever," said Hartley. 
 " She knows what piques and interests and amuses 
 men." 
 
 " You should not even suggest that she poses as 
 more naive and ingenuous than she is," insisted John 
 Marchmont with some heat. " She could not pose. 
 Her cleverness, if you call it cleverness, owes every 
 thing to its spontaneity. Unless she is in a state 
 of effervescence she is not in the least clever. It 
 is only when she is bubbling over." 
 
 He kept his eye all the while on the little high- 
 heeled satin slipper, and at a moment when Hartley 
 had turned away contrived to possess himself of it 
 and, with a quick questioning glance at Garthe, 
 thrust it inside his waistcoat. This glance seemed 
 to ask, " Do you claim the privilege of restoring it 
 
WHEN HALF-GODS GO. 79 
 
 to her?" Garthe shook his head with a little 
 gesture that he waived all right. That shadowy 
 index pointed to a state of mind which made it 
 seem sacrilege to Mr. Marchmont that indifferent 
 eyes should rest upon this trophy or profane hands 
 touch it. This jugglery interested Garthe, to whom 
 it lighted up much that he could not otherwise have 
 guessed ; but when Hartley suddenly perceived that 
 the slipper was gone he mistook its destination and 
 supposed it was Garthe who had appropriated it, 
 monopolizing the right of restoring it in his own 
 way and at his own time. 
 
 This slight incident, crowning as it did an even 
 ing s experience in which everything had shown 
 him he no longer enjoyed his old privileges and 
 preeminence, gave a turn to the scale. The state 
 of mind it evolved in Hartley was not without 
 influence upon his fortunes. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GODS ARRIVE. 
 
 No matter what his experience of life may have 
 been, in a man of thirty the germinal principle of 
 hope is always strong, and what Garthe felt in meet 
 ing Constance Garner and in his sudden impression 
 of warmth, fragrance, charm, was a healthy reac 
 tion from his apathy, a quick leap of his blood 
 towards freedom, action, and enjoyment. Why 
 should he, he now questioned his conscience, give up 
 dejectedly, as if he had forfeited his right to a man s 
 place in the world, as if for him the point of honor 
 was to be a human being with nothing in common 
 with other human beings ? For six years he had 
 repressed all personal emotions as if he had no in 
 dividual cravings, wishes, or aspirations. The sense 
 of outrage he had not avenged, of anger he had not 
 vented, of injustice nothing could set right, had 
 separated him from mankind, had especially inter 
 posed a barrier between him and all women. There 
 had been always some fresh work to throw him 
 self into, experiment, study, travel, adventure, 
 nothing came amiss. His intellect had been 
 stimulated, and he had given himself no time to 
 realize that he was debarred from men s everyday 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 81 
 
 pleasures and pursuits, his heart was beating and 
 his life passing in vain. 
 
 He had Larry, and Larry was enough, until 
 he met Constance Garner and everything was 
 changed. It was at first a troublesome pleasure 
 dearly bought. It had been impossible to decline 
 Mrs. Garner s verbal invitation to dinner given at 
 the theatre, and he had besides a wish to meet the 
 girl and find out the reason of her wistful glance, 
 a glance which seemed to question, appeal, recog 
 nize, and almost, he might have said, invite. He 
 had made no advances, but something, he knew not 
 exactly what, of clear womanly interest betrayed 
 itself in her eyes, her smile, her whole expression, 
 and she made no effort to hide it. 
 
 After he had seen her at home in a white gown 
 with a bunch of English violets in the lace at her 
 throat, he was farther than ever from forgetting her. 
 They talked together of Kathy, of indifferent 
 things, and she said to him : 
 
 " You will go to Mrs. Challoner s ? " 
 
 " Since she is kind enough to ask me, I say to 
 myself, Why not? " he replied, flushing slightly. 
 
 44 Yes, why not?" she repeated with some arch 
 ness. 
 
 " But hitherto I have said, when invited to go 
 anywhere, Why should I ? " 
 
 " I know," she exclaimed with instant sympathy. 
 " For four years we went nowhere, and at first 
 we shrank from it. But now even Kathy enjoys 
 
82 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 the change. It helps one to meet new people, to 
 exchange ideas, to have new thoughts." 
 
 Garthe flushed again. She had made it clear 
 by her glance as well by her words that she was 
 acquainted with the outside facts of his life ; but the 
 very ease with which she alluded to his loneliness 
 showed that she considered his fate nothing out of 
 the common. 
 
 " New thoughts may be very charming," he said. 
 
 "But you like old thoughts better?" 
 
 " No." He looked at her, met her glance raised 
 to his, her whole face showing an eagerness to hear 
 what he was to say. " In fact, I try never to think. 
 I go straight on, which is sometimes dangerous." 
 
 " Dangerous ? " 
 
 Her eyes lifted to his, then fell. 
 
 " But I shall go to Mrs. Challoner s," he observed. 
 
 " And to the studio-party ? " 
 
 " Gladly." 
 
 Certainly, he said to himself, if a man did not at 
 least hazard the experiment, if his inclination did 
 not answer this soft appeal, this clear invitation, 
 he must be a poor creature. 
 
 Meanwhile it was all for the sake of Kathleen 
 that Constance was offering this subtle flattery to a 
 man whose possibilities of feeling it was hardly safe 
 to gauge by those of men like Hartley, men whose 
 actual aspirations were towards a high standard of 
 social approval, good fellowship, a knowledge of the 
 correct thing in ties and coats, a knowingness about 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 83 
 
 yachts, stables, athletics, and the gossip of the town. 
 Not but that she divined very different qualities in 
 Garthe, the very qualities she desired to enlist in 
 liking for Kathy ; for Kathy, so generous herself, 
 so susceptible, so crystalline, so transparent, so 
 utterly devoid of egotism and vanity, so uncon 
 scious of her own prettiness, so irresistibly delight 
 ful and amusing, her very folly full of a freshness 
 which never palled ! 
 
 In fact the idea that Garthe whose tone, look 
 and manner had roused belief in her and laid a 
 charm on her must naturally and inevitably fall 
 in love with Kathy, and of course she with him, 
 had instantly fascinated the heart and head of 
 Constance. 
 
 " I am thankful it was Mr. Marchmont and not 
 Mr. Hartley, or particularly not Mr. Garthe, who 
 picked up my slipper," Kathy had said, on the even 
 ing of the dinner party, after the guests had gone 
 away. She sat extending the tips of her pointed 
 toes beyond her gown, looking down at them and 
 reflecting, possibly with some complacency, upon the 
 little ceremony which had just taken place. Mr. 
 Marchmont, lingering behind the other guests, had 
 produced the slipper, saying suddenly, " Oh, by the 
 way, is this ridiculous little thing yours ? " and after 
 scolding her for losing it, had insisted on kneeling 
 down and trying it on, as if he were in doubt 
 whether hers were the foot it fitted. 
 
 "Why particularly not Mr. Garthe?" asked 
 
84 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 Constance, whose secret thought was perhaps that 
 he would have made the situation more interesting. 
 
 u That would have been horrible, horrible," 
 cried Kathy. " Even with Mr. Marchmont nothing 
 but the desire to get back my new, pretty, useful 
 slipper made me confess that it was mine." 
 
 "People have lost slippers before, and people 
 have found slippers before ; there was Cinderella 
 and Prince Charming." 
 
 " But that could n t apply to me and Mr. 
 Marchmont ! " said Kathy, still looking at the 
 pointed toes. 
 
 " Why not to you ? " 
 
 "Cinderella was a young girl," said Kathy with 
 a sigh. 
 
 " You are not very old. It always seems to me 
 that I am older and more experienced than you, 
 and even I am not, so to speak, old. Of course 
 Mr. Marchmont is not just one s ideal of Prince 
 Charming, but Mr. Garthe might play the part." 
 
 " Mr. Garthe is not so very young or so very 
 handsome." 
 
 " Not handsome like Mr. Hartley, but he has a 
 striking face." 
 
 "Not so striking as Mr. Marchmont s." 
 
 " Oh, nobody is like Mr. Marchmont, dear old 
 man," said Constance. " But Mr. Garthe s face is 
 full of quick sympathy and interest. He is not a 
 talker, but he makes his presence felt. When 
 Mr. Hartley used to come here so often he was 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 85 
 
 always telling what he liked and what he disliked, 
 what did not seem easy and pleasant to him he 
 seemed to feel it not worth while to attempt to do. 
 Now Mr. Garthe " 
 
 " Yes, I know," murmured Kathy with a vague 
 smile and sigh, " one sees that Mr. Garthe is very 
 different from Mr. Hartley." 
 
 " Mr. Garthe," Constance proceeded, " looks 
 calm and proud, yet you never feel that he is 
 indifferent, that he has a thought of his good 
 looks, or of saying something clever. He is the 
 kind of man who seems not severe, who 
 
 " Ye-es," said Kathy, rather startled by Con 
 stance s animation, and transferring her gaze from 
 the tips of her slippers to the girl s face. She 
 seemed never before to have had an adequate per 
 ception of its beauty. 
 
 " Why, Constance," she exclaimed, " can it be 
 that you are just a little a little bewitched with 
 this Mr. Garthe ? " 
 
 " I bewitched with Mr. Garthe ? " Constance 
 repeated gayly. " Well, no, Kathy dear, I shall 
 never do anything so unpractical as to suffer myself 
 to be bewitched with men who are in love with you." 
 
 Kathy shrank away like a child struck a blow, 
 and her face flamed. 
 
 " In love with me ? " she said incredulously. 
 
 " Have I not eyes ? Have I not ears ? He 
 stood and talked about you after he came in from 
 the dining-room." 
 
86 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GsUlTHE. 
 "What did he say?" asked Kathy breath- 
 
 "He said that you carried round a visible au 
 reole." 
 
 " He only meant my hair." 
 
 " He said you had the most delightful voice." 
 
 "He hadn t heard Mr. Marchmont tell how 
 when I first came North I used to say 4 It has just 
 done come struck twelve o clock. 
 
 " He asked if he might call on our Tuesdays." 
 
 " But everybody comes on our Tuesdays." 
 
 " And he is going to Mrs. Challoner s, although 
 it has been his way never, never to go out." 
 
 Kathy drew a breath of relief. " I don t think 
 he is going to Mrs. Challoner s to see me," she 
 observed. 
 
 " Of course I cannot give an idea of the feeling 
 behind his words," Constance exclaimed. " I saw 
 his glance rest on you, I - She broke oft , 
 feeling that she was possibly passing the limits of 
 wise discretion, and for a few minutes both were 
 silent. 
 
 " Constance," Kathy murmured after a pause, 
 her features showing that there was some conflict 
 of mind going on. 
 
 "Well, dear?" 
 
 " I want to ask you a question." 
 
 " I am ready to hear it." 
 
 " You will answer it ? " 
 
 " Of course, if I can." 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 87 
 
 " Solemnly, I mean ; not out of any idea of 
 pleasing or displeasing me, but out of your heart 
 and soul, out of your religious convictions." 
 
 Constance looked at her in surprise. 
 
 "Of course I will. Not that my opinion is 
 worth having." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is. You are cleverer than I am, 
 Constance. Then besides, you are always the 
 same. You keep your head. If you believe in a 
 thing to-day you believe in it to-morrow, while if 
 I go to bed with one idea on a subject I am sure to 
 wake up thinking just the contrary." 
 
 " I don t judge so highly of my own wisdom," 
 said Constance humbly, recalling the mistakes she 
 had made, " but tell me what it is, Kathy." 
 
 " Half a dozen times," faltered Kathy, with tears 
 coming to her eyes, " it has been on the tip of my 
 
 tongue. 
 
 " Let me hear it." 
 
 " You understand that you are to be sincere." 
 
 " Absolutely sincere." 
 
 " Of course you will not fancy it has reference 
 to anybody in particular, it is a mere general 
 question." 
 
 " I had taken it for granted it was to be some 
 thing about yourself." 
 
 "Oh dear, no," said Kathy, horror struck at the 
 suggestion. " I should die before I would ask 
 such a question about myself." 
 
 " Tell me what it is, of course then I shall 
 
88 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 know it has no reference to you whatever," said 
 Constance, growing more and more eager. 
 
 " Oh, I could n t ask it now," answered Kathy 
 mournfully. 
 
 "Oh, but Kathy!" 
 
 " Not now ; as it is, I feel ready to sink through 
 the floor." 
 
 But upheld, encouraged, and inspired by Con 
 stance s sympathy, she was finally induced to 
 reconsider, and to begin. " Do you think " 
 then she broke off. " Dear, should you mind just 
 for one minute not staring hard at me ? " After 
 a brief pause, "Do you think," she went on with 
 more resolution, " that it is right for 
 widows to marry again ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Constance with instant decision. 
 
 " Really ? " murmured Kathy, incredulous. " Do 
 you really consider it right ? " 
 
 Her conscience thus addressed, Constance halted 
 a little. 
 
 Then after a pause she said, " I 11 tell you, 
 Kathy. If a woman has made an ideally perfect 
 marriage, if she has been deeply and truly in 
 love with her husband and he with her, and they 
 have had a really ]>erfect happiness, why then, 
 unless there was some powerful reason, it does not 
 seem to me as if - 
 
 " As if she ought to marry again," said Kathy. 
 Her lips quivered slightly ; she seemed half stifled. 
 " I was sure that would be the way you felt about 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 89 
 
 it," she added, " and I in sure you are quite right. I 
 have great faith in your judgment, Constance, and 
 I I just like to have questions settled beyond the 
 reach of controversy. It is so confusing to have two 
 sides to things. Just fancy, suppose we could n t 
 be certain about the Ten Commandments, but had 
 to argue the matter every time a temptation came 
 up." 
 
 " But you did not understand me, Kathy," said 
 Constance. "It is only in certain cases that it 
 seems to me wrong for a widow to marry. When 
 she has been absolutely happy when 
 
 " At any rate," said Kathy resignedly, " that is 
 my case. No woman was ever so happy as I was." 
 
 " I know," faltered Constance, " but, Kathy 
 dear, you had no children." 
 
 "I have you, Constance," said Kathy with 
 caressing sweetness. " I could n t love you better 
 if you were my own daughter." Still with all 
 this sweetness and philosophy there were signs of 
 some conflict of feeling in her face. 
 
 " Of course," Constance said, with clear com 
 punctions, " I should not wish you to marry again 
 unless you had some great inducement, unless a 
 second marriage were to give you what you had 
 hitherto missed." 
 
 " I did not miss anything," cried Kathy, with 
 poignant feeling. 
 
 " I have sometimes felt that you must have 
 missed something in marrying a man so far beyond 
 
90 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 your own age," said Constance in the softest voice. 
 " Of course I know that you were happy with papa, 
 of course I know he loved you 
 
 " He loved me dearly," interrupted Kathy with 
 tears in her eyes. " Of course I never could feel 
 that he cared for me just as he had cared for your 
 mother; I was too young and foolish." 
 
 " What I mean is that one can be young only 
 once, can have an emotion for the first time only 
 once. Papa had had his life ; he had made his 
 career ; he did not care for things which amused 
 you, but liked to sit by and look on and see you 
 enjoy. Don t you remember how it was to me you 
 turned for real sympathy ? " 
 
 44 1 liked him to sit by and look on. I was very 
 happy." 
 
 " He was so much older than you." 
 
 " I should n t have liked him half so well if he 
 had been younger," said Kathy. " Nobody I ever 
 saw or heard of was half as happy as I was, and 
 I see now that it could never be right for me even 
 to think of marrying again." 
 
 She had not the look or manner of a woman who 
 has a great deal at stake, and Constance thought it 
 as well not to debate the point. Kathy had con 
 fessed that it was her way to go to bed dominated 
 by one view of a question and to wake up convinced 
 on the opposite side. Evidently she had begun to 
 think of the possibility of marrying again, and it 
 was not strange that she should have at least a 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 91 
 
 momentary fit of remorse, for she was looking for 
 ward ardently to meeting Garthe at Mrs. Chal- 
 loner s and at the studio-party. 
 
 Bowhill, as Mr. Marchmont s place was called, was 
 about twelve miles out of town. The artist had some 
 twenty years before put up a sort of lodge in the 
 woods, consisting of a single large room for a summer 
 studio, and to this he had gradually added a porch, 
 an entrance hall, dining-room, and bedrooms, so 
 that he finally had a very pretty, rambling, and pic 
 turesque house in a pleasant country with plenty 
 of agreeable neighbors, at least in summer time, 
 for the town had expanded in his direction. He 
 had painted a good many pictures in his early life, 
 but now-a-days kept a canvas on his easel a long 
 time, finding it a difficult matter to feel that his 
 work was finished ; refining on his idea with endless 
 touchings and retouchings, feeling more and more 
 that he was not quite master of his own imagina 
 tion. He no longer needed to work for money, 
 and, without that powerful incentive, art for art s 
 sake made him lose a good many hours in reverie 
 over the achievements of greater men than himself 
 who had done so easily what he longed to do and 
 could not. He passed too many of his days in end 
 less musings over his easel or the fire, in pacings to 
 and fro. Kathleen Garner was spoiling his exist 
 ence, no doubt of that. She was perpetually in 
 his thoughts ; at every turn, thoughts, aspirations, 
 schemes, connected with her, leaped into life. She 
 
92 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 could so easily put order, beauty, and logic into his 
 life, and yet at present she caused him only con 
 fusion of mind and purpose. 
 
 How young she was ! how young everybody was, 
 he said to himself the day of his studio tea, as 
 he watched the group approaching through his 
 grounds. It was a clear, cold, crisp winter s after 
 noon. The ground was frozen, and generally bare, 
 although here and there were patches of snow 
 and ice. Kathleen Garner and Lawrence Garthe 
 were leading the way, the former in a seal-skin 
 jacket, cap and muff, her cheeks and lips rosy 
 as a child s and her eyes full of light. Mrs. 
 Challoner, who was chaperoning the party, and who 
 had thought it worth while to add half a dozen young 
 people to the original group invited, in order to have 
 the affair go off well, was, he said to himself, his 
 only contemporary. 
 
 " How young and happy you all look," was his 
 exclamation as he received them at the door of his 
 studio. " Come in, come in. There is my Cazin, 
 Mrs. Challoner." 
 
 The room resembled a shrine, rather than the 
 museum of art objects, tapestries and curios, which, 
 combining in an orgy of dazzling color, make 
 up the popular idea of a painter s studio. An air 
 of purity, of severity, of classic order prevailed. 
 There was no jumble. The Cazin had an alcove 
 almost to itself along with a quiet landscape of 
 Daubigny s and a mellow sunset behind a row of 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 93 
 
 poplars edging a pond, by Corot. There were four 
 of these alcoves, lighted by large windows opening 
 on beautiful views, each alcove containing some 
 distinguishing picture or series of sketches, and 
 three or four seats for a group of people to sit down. 
 In the main body of the room were casts of the 
 works of the great sculptors, and then towards the 
 north was a platform with a cold white light, and 
 to-day set out with two or three completed pictures 
 on the easels. 
 
 " They say they like my studio," Mr. Marchmont 
 observed to Garthe, " but I doubt if they do. The 
 fashion of the town is for gaudy effects, whereas I 
 must have cool color and the perfect line to con 
 tent and tranquilize me." 
 
 The two men were standing together while the 
 other groups distributed themselves about the 
 alcoves or fluttered about before the easels, admir 
 ing, discussing, chattering, and laughing. 
 
 " You live here alone ? " said Garthe. 
 
 " I live here all alone for some nine months 
 of the year ; then after Christmas go to town until 
 Easter. I built first the square room with windows 
 to the north, then I added a bedroom and a kitchen, 
 then a porch and a hall, and a dining-room ; finally 
 a library and bedrooms round the gallery above. 
 It has grown out of an idea that I wanted a bit of 
 solitude, and has surprised me by what it has de 
 veloped into, as many of my ideas do, seeming to 
 have a lease of life quite independent of me, like 
 children of the parents who beget them." 
 
94 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " You never married, I believe," said Garthe. 
 
 " No ; at the time of life when men think of 
 marrying I had my mother and a sister ten years 
 younger than myself always with me ; I had, be 
 sides, my art, indeed, I ought to say, chiefly my 
 art, for I was intoxicated with my work. I lived in 
 it, I cared little or nothing for anything else ; it 
 was completely satisfying. What tormented me 
 in women was not my longing to call one of them 
 Mrs. John Marchmont, but to transfer the soul of 
 her beauty to canvas, and that it is not an easy 
 matter to do." 
 
 " No, I suppose men are better subjects." 
 
 " Not if a woman is identified with an idea. Of 
 course nothing is so charming as a blooming young 
 girl, but no artist, who understands the limitations 
 of art, cares to undertake her unless lie can put her 
 into an Annunciation or make her a sibyl or a saint, 
 or show in her a presentiment of early death. It 
 is human personality one demands in a portrait, 
 the subtle, the spiritual side of the subject. A 
 child is always good material, but women have 
 almost no artistic character at all until they have 
 found out what life is, what suffering is, and what 
 submission is. I saw a woman, as I waited before 
 the gate at the railway station the other day, and 
 I could not get her out of my head until I had 
 made twenty sketches of her. She could n t have 
 been more than thirty, but you saw on the instant 
 that she had been through every sort of experience ; 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 95 
 
 had loved, been married, had had children, and, no 
 doubt, lost some ; for, from the beautiful submissive 
 lines about her mouth, she had known grief, had 
 eaten her bread with tears, had not only wept but 
 despaired, had been conquered by life, and yet she 
 had conquered. Leonard might have painted her 
 as a pendant to the Gioconda for this woman, 
 too, smiled ; smiled with an unfathomable smile of 
 sweetness and serenity." 
 
 " Fair or dark ? " asked Garthe. 
 
 " Fair, hair of pure gold. She had not aged, 
 she had only lived" he sighed. " She was emi 
 nently pictorial," he added. 
 
 " And you could not follow her. could not find 
 out who she was, could not induce her to sit for 
 you?" 
 
 " No, I stood aside to let her pass ; our eyes met, 
 and the chance was over. No doubt she still recalls 
 me as the old man who stared at her as we stood 
 together by the gate waiting to have the official 
 punch our tickets. I only hope the right sort of 
 fellow sits down opposite her at table, but I am 
 afraid." 
 
 " It is something in the way of an experience," 
 Garthe said slowly and reluctantly as if the words 
 were forced from him, " for a man to see the idea 
 of a woman which he has cherished in his deepest 
 instincts, venerated in his soul, and looked forward 
 to as his chance of salvation, clothed in visible, 
 tangible beauty." 
 
96 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 " I had n t that feeling at all," John Marchmont 
 made haste to say. u I should like to paint her 
 portrait, or to put her in a group at the foot of the 
 crucifix as the mother of God, but 
 
 " It is another woman you wish to have sit op 
 posite you at table," said Garthe, smiling and 
 thinking of the slipper episode. 
 
 " Quite another woman," said John Marchmont. 
 " Suppose we go and ask Constance Garner for a 
 cup of tea." 
 
 The tea-table was spread in the great hall, on the 
 table by the chimney corner. Mrs. Challoner and 
 Constance were dividing the honors, and Kathleen, 
 sharing the duties, brought a cup of tea in each 
 hand, offering them to Mr. Marchmont and Garthe. 
 
 "Is the party going off to suit you, madam?" 
 the artist inquired. 
 
 " Ye-es," said Kathleen. She glanced at Garthe. 
 " It was pleasant, was it not, Mr. Garthe, coming 
 out on the train ? " 
 
 k It was charming," returned Garthe, who had 
 taken the cup of tea, but, without tasting it, stood 
 looking wistfully at the tea-table, or at the girl who 
 presided at the samovar. 
 
 " Then the walk here," Kathy pursued. u It was 
 like coming through a great park, and the wind 
 roared in the trees like a fugue of Bach s. Did 
 you not enjoy it, Mr. Garthe ? " 
 
 " Very much," returned Garthe absently, his eyes 
 fastened on Constance, who had risen from her seat 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 97 
 
 " Some affairs seem to me so long," Kathleen 
 pursued ; " but now I am hating to see the sun go 
 down. I do not want this day to end." 
 
 Garthe had turned to her an instant with a daz 
 zling smile. 
 
 "Excuse me," he said, and like a flash darted 
 forward and vanished. 
 
 " There, he has gone ! " said Mr. Marchmont 
 in an odd voice. " You have nobody left but me." 
 
 Kathy gazed after the fugitive with a sort of 
 bewilderment. 
 
 "Young men are so so odd," she observed. 
 " I don t think I like them." 
 
 " Garthe evidently wished to speak to Constance," 
 said Mr. Marchmont soothingly. " He will come 
 back." 
 
 " Oh, I do not wish him to come back particu 
 larly," said Kathleen. "I am so hungry I feel like 
 sitting down and eating sandwiches and buttered 
 muffins and scones, and with you I do not mind." 
 
 " No, there is that comfort in an old fellow like 
 me ; he does not count any more than one s grand 
 mother." 
 
 " I like it," said Kathleen, sinking among the 
 cushions of the chimney-corner seat. Mr. March 
 mont drew a low table before her, and transferring 
 to it a fair share of the contents of the general tea- 
 table, endeavored at least to satisfy her physical 
 hunger. " I like it," she said again, smiling at him. 
 " You take such good care of me." 
 
98 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " Old dogs are apt to be well trained," he an 
 swered, sitting down beside her. 
 
 " I don t think," murmured Kathleen, half in 
 reverie, "that I quite understand young men. 
 Now there was Mr. Hartley " 
 
 " Yes ; by the way, Hartley has not come. I 
 think a card from him arrived by post." 
 
 " We hardly ever see him now," said Kathleen. 
 " He stopped coming all at once. For a year, when 
 the door-bell rang, we would say to each other, 
 4 There is Mr. Hartley, and the door opened and 
 there he was. Then suddenly " she mused smil 
 ingly, flushed slightly, and added hastily, " I sup 
 pose he found something pleasanter to do." 
 
 Mr. Marchmont, vaguely troubled in his con 
 science, looked at her lovely wistful eyes, the mean 
 ing of their glance enhanced by the blue circle 
 beneath. Any one looking into their depths must 
 feel the absolute candor and simplicity of her 
 nature ; yet with all her goodness and sincerity 
 she seemed to him enigmatical. 
 
 " I don t believe you missed Hartley," he ob 
 served. 
 
 " Oh, no ; " her face lighted up, " for just then 
 Mr. Garthe came." 
 
 " You like Garthe better." 
 
 " A great deal better. Still " she paused as 
 she took a fresh muffin. " I don t think," she ob 
 served, " that I quite understand young men. You 
 see," she added, with a flash of insight, " I did 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 99 
 
 not have my innings as a girl. I had no chance to 
 go to balls ; I never had my fair share of lovers, 
 there are no young men at the South to fall in love, 
 so that I had no experience." 
 
 " You had one lover, apparently an effective 
 one." 
 
 " I cannot imagine whom you mean," said Kath 
 leen, puzzled. 
 
 " Of course I mean the man you married, who 
 carried you off at an age when most girls have not 
 put up their hair." 
 
 " I do not call him a lover. That was different. 
 Bernard was Bernard." 
 
 Mr. Marchmont considered this rather charming. 
 
 " Bernard was Bernard, evidently something 
 quite out of the commonplace category." 
 
 "Yes, Bernard was Bernard," affirmed Kathy, 
 with a pink flush rising to her face. " So I went 
 into society first as a married woman. I was a 
 matron all at once. I was taken out to dinner by 
 all the old gentlemen, and oh," with a grimace, 
 " how some old gentlemen can prose ! " 
 
 " Oh, can t they ! " ejaculated Mr. Marchmont 
 with a visible shudder. " I beg of you to draw 
 a veil over their infirmities. Such an allusion 
 strikes home." 
 
 " I hope," Garthe had said as he .found Con 
 stance sitting alone quietly in the alcove which 
 contained the new picture, "that you will accept 
 
100 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 this cup of tea to cheer your solitude," and he ex 
 tended the untouched cup he still carried in his 
 hand. 
 
 44 That is the very cup I made for you, that I 
 sent to you by Kathy," said Constance. She was 
 smiling. The occasion had been to her a pleasant 
 one. She and Garthe had not hitherto spoken that 
 day except to exchange greetings, but she had 
 seen him with Kathleen and both had worn an air 
 of enjoyment. " It is very ungrateful of you to 
 give it away." 
 
 44 Not to be ungrateful," returned Garthe, and 
 drank the tea. 
 
 44 Rather cold, I fear, by this time," suggested 
 Constance. 
 
 44 Rather cold and rather sweet," said Garthe. 
 44 But now that I have swallowed it, may I sit down 
 with you and look at the Cazin ? " 
 
 44 Where is Kathleen?" 
 
 44 Mrs. Garner ? Oh, surrounded, as usual. It 
 would be of no use for me to try to get in a word. 
 You gay people have so much to say to each other, 
 I feel a clod compared with you. On the way out 
 we all laughed irresistibly over such incredibly 
 droll stories. Some man had dressed in a hurry 
 to go out to dinner, and on arriving had found him 
 self with one low shoe and silk stocking, and one 
 high walking boot and woolen sock. But that was 
 nothing to another man who had gone out to Tux 
 edo to stay over night for a ball ; and instead of 
 
THE GODsS ATtJtWZ. 
 
 having his full complement of evening clothes, was 
 short in some important particular. The story of 
 his various attempts to make up the deficiency was 
 so amusing, and so stimulating, that we all ran 
 sacked our brains to recall some equally exquisite 
 incident." 
 
 Constance looked at him with the expression in 
 her face which he had come by this time to know 
 well ; it was made up o f observation, curiosity, a 
 clear and definite desire to understand what he 
 said and what he felt. 
 
 " Trifles amuse one when one is happy," she said. 
 
 " Yes ; and to-day I was amused. I have been 
 very light-hearted of late, when one considers that 
 a while ago I thought I had not a ray of hope in 
 my heart." 
 
 She looked at him in silence, her beautiful eyes 
 full of sympathy. She longed to say something 
 about Kathleen, but perhaps it was enough that he 
 was clearly thinking of her. 
 
 " I get up in the morning, now-a-days, with a feel 
 ing that something pleasant is going to happen, 
 and it happens," said Garthe. " It has all been in 
 teresting to-day, for even while I laugh a little at 
 the talk that goes on, it is diverting ; and when 
 anybody tells simply what they know and what has 
 happened, nobody is bored. But now, let me 
 sit down with you and look at the Cazin." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Constance. " I am looking at 
 the sunset, too, out-of-doors." 
 
1(>2; THE STORY OF. LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " Yes, the sunset." 
 
 Each, turning as they spoke, uttered an exclama 
 tion. There was the little new moon shining clear 
 above the mellow crimson and golden glow of the 
 west. 
 
 " I like to see the new moon over my right 
 shoulder," said Constance. "It is my one super 
 stition." 
 
 " So it is mine. Let Us accept the augury." 
 He glanced at her. u ls there anything you de 
 sire very much ? " he asked, with a little glimmer 
 of a smile which, for some inexplicable reason, she 
 found it a difficult matter to meet. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered, dropping her eyes. " I 
 wish something very much." 
 
 " I am thirty years old," he said in a low voice. 
 " I thought I had got over that childish sort of pas 
 sion ; but I find myself now-a-days longing for some 
 thing, like a beggar for food and raiment." She 
 longed to shake off an influence which seemed 
 
 O 
 
 more and more to bind her ; she must surely have 
 something to say about Kathy, but she could not 
 speak. " Look just there," he went on, " just 
 where those oak trees show their branches against 
 the west." 
 
 " I see only the sky," she said, fixing her eyes in 
 the direction he had indicated. 
 
 " Look steadily a moment." 
 
 " Oh, yes I " she exclaimed joyfully, and glanced 
 at him, her face radiant. Where there had been, 
 
THE GODS ARRIVE. 103 
 
 a moment before, only the mellow blending of the 
 sunset colors into the violet above, and where the 
 most intent gaze could discern nothing, suddenly, 
 as if newly created, a point of brightness had come. 
 It was the evening star. 
 
 Garthe sighed. 
 
 " Mr. Marchmont is a fine fellow," he observed. 
 " I like him." 
 
 " I love him." 
 
 " Enviable man, all round. To begin with, this 
 is a pleasant house." 
 
 " Is n t it? It is just my idea of a house. Each 
 window in it is just more delightful than the others. 
 Sometimes in summer we come here with Mrs. 
 Challoner and stay a week. I have the room above 
 this, and although one has only a glimpse of the 
 river here, there one sees it all round the bluff, 
 and the pine wood as well." 
 
 " You love the country ? You would like to live 
 in the country ? " Garthe asked in the softest voice 
 in the world. 
 
 " It would make me perfectly happy to live in 
 the country. I always go away from ifc, my eyes 
 unsatisfied with seeing and my ears with hearing." 
 
 " I know the sensation," said Garthe, smiling. " I 
 like that phrase." 
 
 " Do you like the country so well ? " 
 
 " Hitherto I have preferred cities, that is, 
 unless I can have really wild nature." 
 
 " Kathy loves the town and everything belonging 
 
104 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 to it," said Constance. "She says she had too 
 much of the country as a child ; that it means, 
 now-a-days, separation from what she loves best. 
 When we are away, she declares that she pines for 
 pavements, noise, crowds, hurry, and dust, and that 
 when she comes back, she longs to embrace the 
 first policeman she sees. But then," Constance 
 added hastily, as if fearful of having given a wrong 
 impression, "she is equally happy and at home 
 everywhere. She lives, actually, in her affections ; 
 but unluckily she has nothing except me to spend 
 them on." 
 
 " Has she no family ? " 
 
 " She was an only child, and lost her mother 
 veiy early, and it was when papa found her all 
 alone, after her father s death, when he had gone 
 to Virginia to attend to some of his business as ex 
 ecutor, that he fell in love, married her at once, 
 and brought her to New York." 
 
 Garthe drew her on to more intimate confidences. 
 She withheld nothing which could show him how 
 happy they had been together, how beyond all 
 others Kathy was dear, lovable, good, and amusing, 
 putting charm into whatever she undertook. She 
 little comprehended how, in each touch with which 
 she painted another, she was expressing herself to 
 Garthe s perceptions. All at once came a sum 
 mons from Mrs. Challoner, news that everybody 
 was going back to town. 
 
 " Is it over ?" murmured Garthe as if incredulous. 
 
THE GODS AERIVE. 105 
 
 "And I have kept you here," said Constance 
 remorsefully. " Why did I let you stay ? Why 
 did you run away from the others ? " 
 
 " Why did you let me stay ? " he asked, looking 
 at her with a direct glance. " Why did I run 
 away from the others ? You know you must 
 know that I came to-day simply to see you, 
 that my only object in going anywhere is to be 
 with you. I think of nothing else." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 
 
 "A WIDOW, is she ? " said Ferdinand Hartley. 
 
 "Let us call her a widow. Sometimes it is just 
 as well not to be too precise. If she does not lay 
 up her husbands in the kingdom of heaven she yet 
 gets rid of them in some decent fashion. She 
 comes from a region where divorces grow on every 
 bush." 
 
 "Oh, divorced?" 
 
 " I have no reason for saying that she is di 
 vorced, only that somehow she seems to me not to 
 have the rig of a widow. I have not inquired 
 about the late Hernandez, and I may be doing her 
 an injustice." 
 
 " Your brother ought to have found out some 
 thing about her private history. * 
 
 " He found out sufficient for his purpose, and he 
 no doubt thinks that it s well to be satisfied with the 
 sufficient," said Joseph Koylance, a somewhat pre 
 cise, cautious man who went into no matter whose 
 depth he had not tested. " She brought him letters 
 from his Pacific Coast correspondent which have 
 been properly authenticated. She possesses un 
 doubted securities, many of them in the name of 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 107 
 
 Aurelio Hernandez ; and her own signature, Anna 
 Isabella Hernandez, is good for almost any amount." 
 
 "She must be rich," mused Hartley. 
 
 " No more doubt about her being rich than there 
 is about her being young and good-looking." 
 
 "What is she doing here in New York all 
 alone?" 
 
 " She is not alone. She has a companion, a 
 Miss Shepard, who is not an ordinary sheep-dog, 
 but a woman with a career ; wants to reform some 
 thing ; I am not quite sure what it is she wants to 
 reform, perhaps men. God knows, some of us 
 need it. Any doubts about the unimpeachable re 
 spectability of Mrs. Hernandez will die a natural 
 death the moment you see Miss Shepard. You 
 could n t touch her with a ten-foot pole." 
 
 " It all seems odd, out of the way. I should like 
 to understand clearly what brings Mrs. Hernandez 
 to New York." 
 
 " You are mighty particular all of a sudden. As 
 a rule it is not I but somebody else who longs to 
 rush into speculations which the elect are afraid 
 of. Why should any one come to New York? 
 To be young, good-looking, rich, and a widow, does 
 not preclude a desire for novelty, some wish to en 
 large one s experience. Perhaps who knows 
 she may be looking for a successor to the late 
 Aurelio Hernandez. But to come back to the 
 point, will you or will you not accept Mrs. John 
 Roylance s invitation to dinner next Wednesday ? " 
 
108 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 Perhaps convinced by these explanations and 
 these arguments, perhaps because his disinclina 
 tions had been a matter of vanity and whim only, 
 Hartley accepted without further demur. He had 
 heard not a little about John Roy lance s new 
 client within the past few weeks, but in a way to 
 repel as much as to attract. He had all his life 
 piqued himself upon his fastidious insistence upon 
 the very best things, and he hated to recognize any 
 deterioration, any acceptance of which was second- 
 rate. Still what he was told about the wealth of 
 this possibly dubious widow adapted itself to his 
 naive love of magnificence. And there come epochs 
 in the lives of the most brilliant people when the 
 original impulse seems to have exhausted itself, 
 when to the first bubble, sparkle, effervescence, 
 succeeds flatness. Since his painful half-hour at 
 the Garners three weeks before, everything had 
 been dull to Hartley. Nothing could look more 
 hopeless than his future in the world in which he 
 had ever shone, but where now he seemed to 
 have dwindled from a chief actor into a mere 
 looker-on. In his devotion to the Garners, he had 
 for more than a year given up his general social 
 preeminence ; other men had pushed into his place 
 and he now felt himself crowded out. His face 
 was strange to the young girls, who considered him 
 antiquated, and passed him by for boys with whom 
 he would make no effort to compete. A more ro 
 mantic man in such a situation might have pressed 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 109 
 
 his heart into the service of his grievance and be 
 lieved that his present lack of high spirits proceeded 
 from his disappointment in his love-affair. But he 
 was at all events 110 sentimentalist. Love, he said to 
 himself, was like pebble soup, very good and very 
 nourishing if well flavored with thyme, parsley, 
 rosemary, pepper, salt, and a substantial marrow 
 bone. What he still hated to think of was his in 
 effectual waste of effort and material, his time, his 
 bouquets, his bonbons, his books. It made him 
 almost cynical to hear that Garthe was pursuing 
 under every advantage his acquaintance with Mrs. 
 Garner. 
 
 " I sow and others reap," he said to himself. 
 44 1 lay eggs and others incubate them." 
 
 . Still he reflected on his good services in Garthe s 
 behalf with some complacency, always piquing him 
 self on being a good fellow, a warm-hearted fellow, 
 a better fellow than others, not to say a brighter. 
 The more the pity, then, that circumstances forced 
 him to decline on a lower range of feelings than 
 had moved him hitherto, although in his present 
 restless and transitional mood it was something to 
 have some clearly defined object of pursuit. 
 
 The John Roylaiices lived in Brooklyn in an 
 ample, respectable way. They were not people of 
 fashion, were wholly guiltless of worldly ambitions, 
 and had experienced no slight embarrassment in 
 offering attention to their rich, pretty client who 
 had complained to the lawyer that she had been in 
 
110 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 New York almost a month and had so far found it 
 a most inhospitable place. Mrs. Hernandez s busi 
 ness had been for a year and promised for some 
 time to come to be so profitable to John Koylance 
 that he at once bestirred himself and consulted with 
 his brother, who not only suggested giving a dinner, 
 but promised that his partner, who was a man of 
 high fashion and good looks, should be one of the 
 guests. Thus it was a clear relief when Hartley, 
 after going backwards and forwards, accepted the 
 invitation with an air of concession. 
 
 "Of course," Joseph Roylauce said, "you are 
 in society, and John and his wife are not in 
 society. But they are well off, and, when occa 
 sion demands, can step out handsomely. The affair 
 may be a little heavy, but I can safely promise 
 you a good dinner." 
 
 No sooner had Hartley met the mysterious stran 
 ger than he realized that it would have been one of 
 the most foolish acts of his life to forego this op 
 portunity. Koylance had not exaggerated : Mrs. 
 Hernandez was still young, that is, her age could 
 scarcely have been thirty, and she was rather star- 
 tlingly handsome, with complexion of a rich creamy 
 tint, ample dark hair which she wore massed on 
 the top of her head and stuck full of diamond- 
 headed pins like a Japanese matron, imperious 
 black eyes beneath imperious black brows, and a 
 saucy mouth with so short an upper lip that she 
 seemed always on the point of uttering some lively 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. Ill 
 
 and impertinent speech. Considering the quiet 
 nature of the occasion, she was perhaps too much 
 dressed, but of such wealth as hers was reputed 
 to be some visible sign was desirable. Hartley at 
 least was not ready to find fault with her ostenta 
 tion. He would himself have liked to take her out 
 to dinner and to delight her with the piquancy of 
 his wit, the felicity of his descriptions, and his 
 happy dexterity in flattery. But of course she fell 
 to the host instead, while Hartley, with the best 
 grace he could muster, offered his arm to Mrs. Roy- 
 lance. He recovered from his disappointment to a 
 degree when, on sitting down at table, he found that 
 his right-hand neighbor was Miss Shepard, Mrs. 
 Hernandez s friend, companion, and chaperon. 
 Perhaps he considered her the key to the door of 
 acquaintance with the rich widow. Perhaps his 
 curiosity was piqued by Miss Shepard s own indi 
 vidual characteristics. At all events she interested 
 him at once, although she sat through the early 
 courses with her attention fixed wholly on the plate 
 before her, glancing neither to the right nor left. 
 She was tall and thin, of any age between thirty 
 and fifty, neither young nor old, handsome nor 
 ugly. She had a clear large-featured face with an 
 expanded forehead, thoughtful yellowish eyes, a 
 wide pliable mouth with peculiar curves. A little 
 furrow between her brows seemed to indicate an 
 easily perplexed and troubled earnestness of mind, 
 but in general her whole expression was concen 
 trated and alert. 
 
112 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Even while addressing a flood of polite nothings 
 to his hostess he was all the time attentively ob 
 serving her and waiting for an opportunity to com 
 pel her attention. Mrs. Roy lance herself gave him 
 the clue. 
 
 " Miss Shepard lectures ; have you heard her ? " 
 she inquired. 
 
 " I have not yet had that pleasure," he replied ; 
 then, no longer withheld by lack of a subject, " 1 
 wonder if it was you who lectured on Ibsen ? " 
 he said, turning to her. u Mrs. Challoner was tell 
 ing me about it a few nights ago." 
 
 Miss Shepard s lips had moved in nervous impa 
 tience as she overheard Mrs. Roylance s remarks. 
 She replied : 
 
 "Yes, it was I. I was introduced to Mrs. Chal 
 loner. She seemed to me a clever but very super 
 ficial sort of woman." 
 
 "Oh, we are all superficial," said Hartley. 
 
 " Unless people are in earnest I have no time to 
 waste on them," said Miss Shepard stiffly, but at 
 the same time regarding him with interest. 
 
 " Don t blame me for not being in earnest," he 
 retorted. " It is not my fault but my misfortune 
 that you look down upon me. Luckily you can t 
 run away, and perhaps before dinner is over you 
 may make me in earnest for the rest of my days. 
 I was never properly equipped for life with fixed 
 opinions, views, convictions, prejudices. Every 
 subject in the world presents itself to me with the 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 113 
 
 inevitable interrogation point. Now there is Mrs. 
 Roylance s brother-in-law, who enjoys Working- 
 men s meetings, Everybody s Rights Associations, 
 Reformers Clubs ; he serves on committees ; he is 
 vice-president, secretary, what not, of all sorts of 
 societies ; he likes to be preached at and lectured 
 to by the hour. His particular pride is to receive 
 tracts on all humanitarian subjects. He is my 
 partner, and you will like him even if you can t like 
 me." 
 
 Miss Shepard listened with a grim smile. 
 
 " I have all my life liked the wrong people," 
 she remarked. 
 
 "Now I enjoy that sort of confession. It opens 
 up a vista to the imagination." 
 
 " What I mean," she explained, " is that I 
 like one set of ideas and, too often, another set of 
 people." 
 
 "You don t realize your own power to impose 
 your ideas upon people of the most opposite con 
 victions," said Hartley. "Mrs. Challoner, Mrs. 
 Challoner, for example, whom you did not like, 
 confided to me that she was so carried away by 
 your Ibsenish theories she longed to run away 
 from her husband." 
 
 " If he is a bad husband her impulse was quite 
 right!" 
 
 " He is the best of husbands. She adores him, 
 he adores her. But, don t you see, the irresistible 
 logic of your discourse made her feel that any 
 
114 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 woman of proper feeling ought to be antagonistic 
 to marriage." 
 
 Miss Shepard s face showed the kindling of 
 feeling. 
 
 " If cause exists for antagonism, if she is 
 restricted, limited, hindered, if she does not feel 
 that her soul is growing " 
 
 " Who is not in some direction restricted, 
 limited, hindered ?" said Hartley. "I know that 
 I am. I long to burst my trammels and have a 
 chance for free play. Don t you, Mrs. Roylance ? " 
 turning back to his hostess. 
 
 " I do not quite understand," said Mrs. Roylance 
 nervously. 
 
 " Were you never cramped by your environ 
 ment ? " demanded Hartley with an air of intense 
 sympathy. " Do you feel that you are fully com 
 prehended by those who are nearest and dearest 
 to you, do they not sometimes fail to give you 
 absolute liberty to follow out the dictates of your 
 own will ? " 
 
 Mrs. Roylance looked startled. 
 
 " One does not expect it," she said guardedly. 
 
 " Did you never, for example, long to run away 
 from Mr. Roylance ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I wonder you can speak of 
 such a dreadful thing." 
 
 " Oh, it is Miss Shepard who urges it, not I," 
 explained Hartley. u She thinks that if a woman 
 has a grievance it should be redressed without loss 
 of time." 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 115 
 
 " It is not in this world that a woman expects 
 compensation," observed Mrs. Roy lance. 
 
 Miss Shepard s eyes showed the glimmer of a 
 smile. 
 
 "One can see," she now remarked, addressing her 
 hostess, " that Mr. Hartley is in the habit of 
 taking the problems of life very lightly, at least 
 those problems which confront modern women." 
 
 " But the problems which confront modern 
 men have to be taken lightly," Hartley struck in. 
 " Nobody cares about our wrongs. If I were to 
 address the universe because / was restless and 
 unhappy, I should be considered absurd. Nobody 
 suffers when I eat my heart out with grief because 
 I cannot have what I want." 
 
 " What is it you want ? " 
 
 " Nothing but a good income, houses, equipages, 
 an inexhaustible balance at my banker s." 
 
 " There are plenty of men, and women too, who, 
 like you, shirk the chief questions of life," said 
 Miss Shepard. 
 
 "I will do anything you suggest," retorted 
 Hartley. " I feel like rushing into some extreme ; 
 like plunging headlong into a gulf, only make it 
 clear to me what I ought to do." 
 
 " I do not flatter myself that I am the prophet 
 appointed to influence your life, Mr. Hartley. 
 And indeed, if I am a voice crying in the wilder 
 ness, I have to confess that I hardly know what or 
 whom it is that I announce." 
 
116 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " I supposed it was Ibsen." 
 
 " Ibsen understands women," Miss Shepard 
 answered. " He understands that a woman is an 
 individual being ; that her duty to herself is para 
 mount to all other duties ; that she must be left free 
 and unfettered to question her own conscience and 
 decide upon her own course. For unless she is 
 true to her inner sense of right, justice, and duty, 
 she can be no true wife, mother, or friend." 
 
 u Ibsen is a man," Mrs. Roylance struck in with 
 a quickening of expression in her large, calm face. 
 " If he were a woman he would have found out that 
 a woman is most herself when she forgets herself, 
 rises above herself. He would have seen that if 
 Nora Ilelmar had been really a sensible woman, she 
 could have looked at the question of her husband s 
 mistakes about her all round, and have smiled at 
 them ; and that if she were so impulsive as to be 
 vexed with him even to the point of running away, 
 she must have come back next morning before her 
 children opened their eyes. But, of course, a man 
 cannot know, and even a woman who has had no chil 
 dren cannot know, that it would have killed her to 
 feel that they were missing her and calling for her." 
 
 Hartley, fancying that this wholly feminine shaft 
 might have pierced to the quick and rankled in 
 Miss Shepard, glanced at her in some dismay. 
 But Miss Shepard seemed not hurt, only meditating, 
 as if pondering the question from some fresh point 
 of view. 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 117 
 
 " I don t say Nora was happy," she returned ; 
 than added, with a sudden flash of enlightenment, 
 " No form of martyrdom is easy and pleasant, so 
 far as I have ever heard." 
 
 " If I left my husband and children," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Roylance with no little spirit, " I should not 
 consider myself a martyr." 
 
 " But then, Mrs. Roylance," said Hartley, " you 
 and I are not of the stuff of which reformers 
 are made. We like comfort, respectability, sub 
 stance, we like not being in the papers. It is Miss 
 Shepard who is willing to walk with bleeding feet 
 and cut brambles and briers out of our way. How 
 is it," he inquired, turning to her, " about your 
 charming friend, Mrs. Hernandez? Is she a 
 reformer? Is she emancipated? Does she sym 
 pathize with your views ? " 
 
 " In a way," answered Miss Shepard with an air 
 of reserve. 
 
 " From afar off, I take it." 
 
 Miss Shepard was silent for a moment, then said 
 in a low voice, " I should not call her, strictly 
 speaking, a reformer. Still, while I am a mere 
 echo of other peoples advanced opinions, Mrs. 
 Hernandez is capable of acting and drawing opinions 
 after her." 
 
 Hartley glanced across the table at Mrs. Her 
 nandez, who certainly did not pose as one of the 
 emancipated, but had the air of a pretty woman 
 who expects a full tribute of admiration from every 
 man who addresses her. 
 
118 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " She seems to find herself in harmony with 
 fate," said Hartley. " Has she a husband? " 
 
 " No, she is a widow." 
 
 " You spoke as if " 
 
 " lie was a bad husband," murmured Miss 
 Shepard. " For a time she was like a captive 
 without hope of release, then 
 
 " What happened ? " 
 
 " He died suddenly." 
 
 " Died ? " 
 
 "That is, he was killed killed by falling 
 down a shaft in one of his own mines." 
 
 " I should say fate was on her side. How long 
 ago did this take place? " 
 
 " Almost eighteen months." 
 
 " Has she children ? " 
 
 "None living." 
 
 " She has come to New York to live ? " 
 
 " She desired some kind of change. She was 
 tired of the West. We may go to Paris, but first 
 she is curious to find out what New York life is 
 like. She is, I am afraid, a woman in quest of 
 sensations." 
 
 This seemed to define Mrs. Hernandez to Hart 
 ley s perceptions. More than once, as he looked 
 towards her, he had encountered her glance, bent 
 on him and Miss Shepard with a sort of amused 
 curiosity. On leaving the dining-room he at once 
 singled her out, and although she was in conversa 
 tion with others, he took his stand close beside 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 119 
 
 her and fixed his gaze upon her. His persever 
 ance was rewarded. She soon turned and re 
 marked playfully that he and Eugenia had seemed 
 to find some congenial subject to talk about. 
 Hartley replied that he had been invited to meet 
 herself and had been looking forward all the 
 evening to a chance to speak to her. He seemed 
 inclined to make up for lost time, and succeeded so 
 well in pleasing her that she gave him an eager 
 invitation to come and see her at " The Percy." 
 
 He called on the following day, but the ladies 
 were out. The next morning, however, a private 
 messenger brought him an invitation to take a cup 
 of tea with Mrs. Hernandez that day at half past 
 four o clock. On arriving promptly at that hour, 
 he was ushered into a very luxurious suite of 
 rooms on the second floor of the great hotel, and 
 had time to look about him before his hostess, 
 elaborately dressed, entered, followed by Miss 
 Shepard. She accounted for her delay with a 
 fluency which the visitor now discovered was her 
 habit rather than the comparative languor she had 
 shown at the Roylances dinner. She explained 
 that she had been waiting for Miss Shepard ; it 
 had been stipulated that in coming to the East 
 she should do nothing without a chaperon ; she 
 had been used at the West to do much as she took 
 the fancy, here, she was nothing if not conven 
 tional. If she went out to buy a pair of gloves, 
 Miss Shepard must go with her; if she took a 
 
120 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 drive in the park, Miss Shepard must sit beside 
 her. Hartley hazarded the observation that there 
 might be drawbacks even to the possession of youth 
 and beauty, which Mrs. Hernandez received with 
 some coquetry. 
 
 " Eugenia is my angel with the drawn sword," 
 she said with a laugh which showed her small 
 white teeth. 
 
 Miss Shepard had not spoken to Hartley except 
 to utter the briefest form of greeting. She looked 
 impatient while this explanation was going on, and, 
 crossing the room to the low table in the corner 
 under the great lamp shaded with a red umbrella, 
 began to make tea. 
 
 Hartley tried to give the conversation a more 
 general turn by saying that he had been over- 
 prompt, but that in waiting five minutes he had had 
 a chance to observe the prettiness and comfort of 
 the rooms. " They are actually homelike," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Hernandez took up the subject with in 
 terest. The suite had been furnished in cold 
 pale pink and blue, she said, and she and Eugenia 
 had gone out to the shops and ordered in all 
 sorts of Eastern rugs and embroideries, Japanese 
 screens, jugs and jars, to give a warm effect. 
 
 " I need a background," she said. u I like to 
 put on a black or a white gown and leave the 
 room to do the rest." 
 
 As she spoke she flung herself against the pile 
 of bright cushions on the low sofa. There was, in 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 121 
 
 all her movements, in the way she entered and 
 crossed the room, a little more ease and dash than 
 belong, as a rule, to polite society, but she was 
 never awkward or self-conscious. The least vain 
 man in the world must have been flattered by the 
 glance of curiosity and expectation she kept fixed 
 on Hartley. 
 
 " How dull that dinner party was," she ex 
 claimed. " At least, what a dull time I had ! I 
 thought it would never end. I like to meet new 
 people, but I can tell in five minutes whether they 
 are my kind. Mr. Roylaiice offered me all the 
 statistics about the Brooklyn churches, gave me 
 the number which belonged to each denomination. 
 When he had exhausted that subject he asked 
 questions concerning the climate and productions 
 of the Pacific coast. I looked over at you and 
 Eugenia with envy, you were so deeply engaged in 
 some topic. Even Mrs. Roylance seemed excited." 
 
 "Miss Shepard startled her with some new 
 ideas." 
 
 " Did she startle you ? " 
 
 "I felt that unless I wished to be absolutely 
 convinced and carried over to her views I must 
 shut myself up and try to preserve my balance." 
 
 "Do you wish to know what account she 
 gave of you? That you were one of those men 
 so highly polished that nothing makes any im 
 pression, everything slides off. She says you 
 have evidently never thought of women at all 
 
122 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 except as pretty ornamental soulless creatures to 
 amuse an idle hour." 
 
 " On the contrary, if I could by any sort of 
 antics amuse any one of your sex fop one of your 
 idle hours I should be only too proud." 
 
 Mrs. Hernandez laughed. 
 
 " I asked her if you were married," she went on. 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 " She could not decide. But I see you are not 
 married." 
 
 " Good heavens, no." 
 
 " You never have been married ? " 
 
 " Most certainly I never have been married. 
 Nobody ever considered me worth having." 
 
 " I suspect it is the other way. You are very 
 fastidious, very ambitious, very " she made a 
 gesture which seemed to finish the sentence com 
 prehensively without more words. " You go into 
 society a great deal, do you not ? " she pursued. 
 " Are you fond of society? " 
 
 "Mr. Hartley may not like to be cross-ex 
 amined," Miss Shepard struck in with a warning 
 note. 
 
 "But don t you see, Eugenia," pleaded Mrs. 
 Hernandez, " Mr. Hartley is, so to speak, the first 
 human being I have had a chance to get hold of in 
 New York. I came here to be amused, but Mr. 
 Roylance and his set of people do not amuse me. 
 As the Scotchman said, They re dool, just dool. 
 And Eugenia s friends want to talk upon such 
 
HARTLEY FINDS AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 123 
 
 abstract subjects. I believe in our having all the 
 rights we want, but I believe in taking them, not in 
 discussing the question of whether it is womanly, 
 whether from, the beginning of the universe it was 
 intended we should know when we are cold, when 
 we are hungry, whether we ought to be permitted 
 to cry out if we are hurt. I save time by dismiss 
 ing those preliminaries," she said, laughing, " and 
 taking what suits me. I am so interested in the 
 life here ! I am curious about the people. What 
 I long to hear about, is what New Yorkers can get 
 out of life." 
 
 " We generally feel that we are not left behind," 
 observed Hartley. 
 
 44 Yes, but going into a strange city one is at 
 such a disadvantage. It is like going into one of 
 the grand shops where one is obliged to inquire the 
 price of every individual thing. I have been used 
 to places where anything and everybody had, as it 
 were, a ticket, so I knew exactly what they stood 
 for. If I ask too many questions you must lay it 
 to my zeal for knowledge." 
 
 "I will explain," said Hartley, "that I myself 
 am a very costly article ; you can hardly put the 
 figures too high." 
 
 She regarded him with her brilliant black eyes, 
 evidently not quite sure whether he was ironical 
 or in earnest. Miss Shepard, who had made the 
 tea, now. brought him a cup, offering at the same 
 time cream and sugar. 
 
124 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 " Give him a slice of lemon and half a wineglass 
 of ruin," said Mrs. Hernandez. " I am sure he 
 cares as little as I do about your old maid s brew." 
 
 Hartley, however, accepted Miss Shepard s offer. 
 
 " Eugenia says that it is the highly civilized thing 
 to have afternoon tea, that every one expects it 
 now-a-days," pursued Mrs. Hernandez. * 4 I tell 
 her it robs me of all appetite for my dinner." 
 
 She took a cup, nevertheless, flavoring it to suit 
 her own taste. 
 
 " And give me the bonbons, please, Eugenia," she 
 added ; then, when Miss Shepard brought her a 
 box of chocolate comfits, she put them on the low 
 table beside her, told Hartley to take his share with 
 out ceremony, and herself began to nibble them 
 with a child s avidity. 
 
 " So you are a high-priced article," she said, 
 going back to the subject they had left. " Mr. 
 Roy lance told me that you were in the swim, went 
 everywhere in New York were intimate with 
 all the best people." 
 
 u It may be I am invited to more things in a 
 week than I could go to in a month," said Hartley, 
 " but if I were to pose as a man of high social 
 privileges I should consider myself an impostor. 
 I often feel as if these invitations were a mere 
 hollow mockery." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 " Because there is nothing solid about my posi 
 tion. I am poor." 
 
HARTLEY FINDS ;1N OBJECT IN LIFE. 125 
 
 " You are very frank about it," said Mrs. Her 
 nandez, opening her eyes in astonishment. 
 
 " Better to be frank, that people may know 
 where a man stands, and so expect nothing from 
 him and believe nothing in him." 
 
 " Oh, I am quite disinterested," she said gayly. 
 " All I ask for is a chance to spend my own money 
 in my own way on the right sort of people. I 
 have some social ambitions, have I not, Eugenia ? " 
 
 Although thus pointedly addressed, Miss Shepard 
 made no response except by slightly changing her 
 position as she sat upright in a high-backed chair, 
 gazing straight before her. 
 
 " Eugenia is ambitious enough in her own way," 
 said Mrs. Hernandez, with a little grimace. Then, 
 eager to talk about herself, she told Hartley that 
 she had all her life heard about the East and that, 
 meeting Eugenia, and finding that she was anxious 
 to come East, they had come on a voyage of discov 
 ery. 
 
 " I longed for novelty, a new world, new peo 
 ple, new occupations which I could test for myself, 
 and I wanted, too, to test myself against something 
 different from what I had known and what had 
 known me all my life. I like the bigness of the 
 West, the horizon, the future of it. So long as you 
 are making money it is the place to live in. When 
 you wish to spend it, luxury seems rather thrown 
 away. And I had been there all my life ; I was 
 tired of the West, of the Western railroads, the 
 
126 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Western cities, the Western people, above all, 
 of the Western point of view." 
 
 "And how do you like the Eastern point of 
 view ? " asked Hartley. 
 
 " I wish you would help me to find out," said 
 Mrs. Hernandez. 
 
 He had risen to take leave. He told her he was 
 altogether at her service ; and he was sincere, for, 
 in spite of some distaste, he carried away with him 
 a sense of fatality, of irresistible drift towards this 
 new acquaintance. 
 
CHAPTER VIo 
 
 "SHE SHOULD NEVER HAVE LOOKED AT ME IF 
 SHE MEANT I SHOULD NOT LOVE HER." 
 
 CONSTANCE had made no reply in word to 
 Garthe s explicit statement, but he could see by 
 her play of feature that he had not only startled 
 her, but had roused some conflict of feeling. 
 
 "Forgive me if I am too presumptuous," he 
 murmured, looking straight into her eyes. 
 
 When she could not meet his glance, could not 
 falter out one syllable, when her only answer was 
 a blush, so vivid and overpowering it showed that 
 some deep emotion was thus translating itself visibly, 
 it is hardly strange that such a response did not 
 repel him. 
 
 He could not, however, recapture that moment 
 of magic, when for a moment he had seemed to 
 .reach her, to rouse her imagination, to make him 
 self clear. The studio party was over ; everybody 
 was hurrying back to town for dinner and evening 
 engagements, and he did not succeed in exchanging 
 another word with Constance. That was a mis 
 chance, which some more favorable opportunity 
 would remedy. They dined at the same house to 
 gether three times within the ensuing week, and 
 
128 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 being paired off with others were separated by the 
 length of the table. That also might have been 
 mischance. But when on seeking her directly at 
 home, he found her absent or inaccessible ; when 
 within a few feet of each other at a social gathering, 
 he perceived that she permitted anything and every 
 thing to push them apart, to hide her from him, he 
 began to see that it was by her own wish, her own 
 will, that they no longer met, and he drew back. 
 Not that he did not experience a pleasurable stimu 
 lus in the challenge her whole look, manner, and 
 words had held out. It would have suited his 
 temper to have persisted ; he liked to feel his way 
 step by step ; he was not made impatient by a neces 
 sity for self-restraint ; he could have borne denial, 
 since he felt certain of a final victory. Still he 
 drew back. There must be some reason behind 
 her behavior, and the moment he dealt witli himself 
 frankly he admitted that there was reason enough. 
 He reviewed the situation ; he acknowledged that 
 he had been carried away, that, intoxicated by the 
 present and the promise of the future, he had for 
 gotten his own past. The idea of Constance had 
 refreshed his senses for a day, but it could not be 
 an abiding presence in his life. He was after all 
 the same lonely man he had been, and looking at 
 the matter all round, he could not expect, he could 
 not even hope, to be a different person. He went 
 back to his work, to his books, to his talks and read 
 ings with Larry. He renounced daydreams ; he 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 129 
 
 could live without them. His little boy was enough 
 to interest and absorb him. A man with a little 
 child of his own misses nothing ; he has a centre 
 for his energies, a constant diversion, an unceasing 
 absorption. 
 
 " You seem never to listen to me any more, papa," 
 Larry said once, breaking in upon his reverie. 
 " What is it you are looking at in the fire ? " 
 
 Garthe knew very well at what mental images he 
 had been gazing. He took the little fellow on his 
 knee, his heart gripped by the thought that he had 
 neglected him lately, left him to the servants : his 
 own child, all that he had in the world or was likely 
 to have ! 
 
 " Now I will listen, dear," he said. " Tell me 
 everything." 
 
 A wave of exultation flushed Larry. He had 
 got his father back again. He felt afresh the com 
 fort of the strong arm ; the half -veiled smile of the 
 eyes and lips. His heart swelled with a desire 
 to express something of the thoughts which loomed 
 up before his imagination, but all he could bring 
 to his tongue was everyday babble about Percy 
 Brown, who lived in the next block and went to his 
 school, and who played with him. Percy always 
 managed to get the best of things : the biggest apple ; 
 if they played Buffalo Bill and the buffalo, Percy 
 was the former and Larry the latter ; at ball, Percy 
 batted and Larry ran after it; if express wagon, 
 Percy was the driver and cracked his whip, and 
 Larry was the horse. 
 
130 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 "Is he the best friend you have got?" asked 
 Garthe. 
 
 No, there was Frank Benson ; he went shares 
 in everything, and Frank had besides a little sister, 
 the most beautiful little girl with the dearest little 
 eyes and lips. Larry liked to go to Frank s house 
 to see her. Frank had a mamma, too. When she 
 heard that Larry had no mamma, she said, " Poor 
 little Larry," and she kissed him twice, and ever 
 since, when she saw him she took him on her lap 
 and kissed him. 
 
 " I pretend," said Larry slyly, " I don t like it. 
 But I do." 
 
 " Should you like to have a mamma ? " asked 
 Garthe. 
 
 " No, no, no," Larry shouted. " I ve got a papa. 
 I don t want anything more." 
 
 One day, in a quiet side street, Garthe came sud 
 denly and unexpectedly upon Constance Garner. 
 For a moment he hesitated, then, baring his head, 
 he stopped directly in her path and looked at her. 
 
 She then paused, glanced at him, smiled, and 
 blushed. 
 
 " You never come to us now," she faltered, like 
 the coquette she was with him. 
 
 " Do I not ? " he asked, half smiling, looking at 
 her frankly and keenly, and without any self- 
 consciousness in his manner. " Do you then wish 
 me to come ? " 
 
 " Of course we wish you to come," she murmured, 
 
" SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 131 
 
 her eyes fixing on him, and then withdrawing. 
 " Kathy says " 
 " What does she say ? " he asked. 
 
 " That she never sees you now." Again a blush 
 overmastered Constance, but she persisted. " Will 
 you not come to-morrow? " she asked. 
 
 " To-morrow ? It is one of your Tuesdays. Of 
 course I shall go gladly since you ask me," said 
 Garthe. 
 
 He stood still with his head uncovered while she 
 went up the street. He experienced a strange sen 
 sation of relief, a sense of difficulty overcome. Pie 
 could bear his fate now-a-days without bitter ironies 
 or stern resentments ; but it was a fate, neverthe 
 less, and he had accepted the fact logically that it 
 separated him from Constance. Any other solu 
 tion of the problem her conduct had presented was 
 a mere cobweb which he could brush away. 
 
 He had disregarded all his invitations of late 
 which required no direct response, but now he 
 looked them over. If Constance wished to see 
 him, the opportunity was hers. Kathleen, who 
 was hospitably within reach, while Constance was 
 occupied and remote, when he called at the house 
 next day, described him as self-contained in man 
 ner. Constance could be eloquent enough in ex 
 plaining any symptoms of coldness in Garthe. He 
 was no hypocrite, no mere idler ; he had occupa 
 tions ; minor considerations perhaps perplexed and 
 hampered him. 
 
132 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 The girl, who so far as she understood herself 
 believed that she was sincere, must have needed 
 some mental jugglery in vitalizing the fiction that 
 Garthe s object of pursuit was Kathleen. But 
 then all the world seemed to consider it such a pro 
 pitious opportunity for a man to fall in love. 
 Mrs. Challoner, who desired nothing so much as 
 that John Marchmont should win Kathleen, still 
 felt that Garthe ought to have his chance. 
 
 Garthe was not discontented. It was an easy 
 matter to talk to Kathleen. His interest in Con 
 stance made him long to know everything concern 
 ing her, and it was something to elicit from her 
 step-mother all sorts of intimate confidences which 
 bore on their everyday pursuits. He could keep 
 in touch with them, could be sure of meeting them. 
 
 Then, too, Kathleen s easy volubility entertained 
 him. He considered her a winning creature. With 
 her simple and yet rather subtle witchery, she 
 seemed to him a charming child ; offering with a 
 happy and inconsequent flow of ideas the most 
 incredible confessions : what she liked best to eat ; 
 her views on the immortality of the soul ; her taste 
 in gowns and gloves ; her experiences with tight 
 shoes ; her impressions upon the question of female 
 suffrage. They soon established the friendliest 
 relations ; relations which might easily have seemed 
 to Garthe a happy augury for a better acquaintance 
 with Constance. The camaraderie he and Kath 
 leen had established, he realized on her side as on 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 133 
 
 his own was purely friendly, utterly devoid of pas 
 sionate feeling, she liked somebody to whom 
 she could impart her compunctions for imaginary 
 sins, whom she could impress by her attitude 
 towards the world, running eagerly towards it one 
 week, and the next letting it go by. 
 
 " Actually," she said once to Garthe, " I never 
 wish now-a-days to give myself up to enjoyment, 
 but sometimes, as I really love dancing, I get run 
 away with by the music and the little demon within 
 me. Then, too, to dance with the very young men 
 one sees in societv seems the easiest way of dispos 
 ing of them. One gets out of breath and cannot 
 talk, and better still, they get out of breath and 
 cannot talk. I fancy that the reason I like people 
 who are older and wiser than myself is that when 
 a general average is taken between us, I am lifted 
 up ; whereas, with the young and foolish, I descend. 
 For although you might not think it, Mr. Garthe, 
 I do have aspirations. Society does not content 
 me, although I love society. What I feel about 
 society is that it stimulates us, offers occupation, 
 gives us a chance of doing something and saying 
 something more than we can in family life. The 
 pleasure of living, I take it, is to feel strongly, and 
 then to utter unreservedly the impression produced 
 upon one. The only trouble is, I am so apt to be 
 unlucky and say something which seems pointed. 
 Now the other night at the private view there was 
 a Mr. Balfour introduced to me at a moment when 
 
134 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 I was smitten with a desire to talk about the pic- 
 tures. I remarked that the artists all seemed 
 rather at a loss for a subject, and he said the less 
 subject the better, and quoted Thackeray, who 
 declared an artist needed no head above his eyes. 
 Yes, exactly, I returned, a painter should be ca 
 pable of looking at a thing, feeling the whole thrill 
 and passion of it, if it be only a tree, until the actu 
 ality of its being a tree burned into his very fibre, 
 then putting it down simply, why, that was 
 what I called having a subject. But now/ I went 
 on, look at that picture of nymphs ! Certainly the 
 man who painted it had not used his eyes, but had 
 evolved the thing out of his poor little brain above 
 his eyes. He never saw nymphs in a wood, he 
 never even felt the meaning of nymphs in a wood ! 
 Actual nymphs w r ould seem to belong there as much 
 as the trunks of trees or the checker of light and 
 shadow on the moss. These are only girls playing 
 at nymphs whom you long to send to the ready- 
 made clothing department at Arnold s, without loss 
 of time, to be fitted out with skirts, blouses, blazers, 
 big sleeves, hats, gloves, and pointed shoes. " Kathy 
 paused a second, looked at Garthe, and then, clasp 
 ing her hands together on her breast, she ejacu 
 lated, " Just fancy ! This Mr. Balfour was the 
 artist who had painted that picture ! " 
 
 " Was he hurt by your criticism ? " Garthe in 
 quired. 
 
 " I don t think he liked it," said Kathy sadly. 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 135 
 
 " He took me into the next room and showed me 
 some poppies he had done which he fancied might 
 please me better. It reminded me of - 
 
 Bring 1 poppies for the wounded mind. 
 
 A great many poppies are essential in order to in 
 duce oblivion after a person talks long with me, I 
 fear. Now, Constance and I were discussing the 
 propriety of widows marrying again ; and one day 
 lately, when I was lunching with seven ladies, 
 what she had said on the question occurred to me, 
 and I brought it up. I confess that the subject 
 has two sides, even for me ; and sometimes I see it 
 from the point of view that the very fact that a 
 woman has once been happy married ought to in 
 duce her to try to be happy again. But on that 
 day I saw it from the other side, and marrying 
 again seemed a sin, and I proclaimed that dogma. 
 I said that no woman who had loved her husband 
 ought to think of marrying again ; and if she had 
 not loved him, she was a monster, and no man 
 ought to be permitted to marry her." Again 
 Kathy looked at Garthe and clasped her hands 
 convulsively at her throat. " And," she went on, 
 "it turned out that of these seven women, three 
 had been married twice, one was a widow for the 
 second time, on the point of making a third mar 
 riage, and still another was divorced. I did not 
 mind it so much," Kathy continued naively, 
 " where she was concerned, for I particularly dislike 
 
136 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 the idea of divorced people. And it has to be ac 
 cepted taken for granted that if I am in the 
 room with a divorced person, I shall talk, by irre 
 pressible instinct, about divorces and nothing but 
 divorces, as if my mind were full of the subject. 
 But that is simple justice ; don t you think so, Mr. 
 Garthe ? Divorces are a horror to me ; are n t they 
 to you ? " 
 
 " A horror," said Garthe. " A living horror, it 
 must be." 
 
 u That is just it, a living horror," said Kathy. 
 " So uncomfortable to have that sort of a ghost. 
 Mr. Marchmont was telling me about being at a 
 men s dinner, where he saw two unhappy-looking 
 individuals sitting in sombre silence looking nei 
 ther to right nor left, while everybody else was 
 convivial. * What is the matter with them ? he in 
 quired of somebody. 4 Are they mortal enemies ? 
 4 Both married to the same woman, was the reply ; 
 and their loss of a pleasing common topic of con 
 versation was explained." 
 
 Garthe smiled discreetly ; theft, putting by the 
 subject, returned to the former one. " Tell me, 
 please, how Miss Garner regards the question of a 
 widow s marrying again." 
 
 Kathy suddenly became confused. " Oh, Con 
 stance approves of it," she murmured, growing 
 scarlet. 
 
 " Very sensibly. I fancy she generally sees a 
 thing simply ; has quick decision of mind ; is very 
 sincere." 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 137 
 
 " She is very sincere, never tells a fib ; yet she 
 never gets into trouble as I do. No dose of pop 
 pies is needed after she talks with people. Even 
 my fibs do me no good, I am always found out," 
 said Kathy sadly. 
 
 " I should almost like," said Garthe, " to be able 
 to . suspect Miss Garner of insincerity. If she is 
 absolutely truthful, it is painfully clear that she 
 dislikes me. She avoids me, looks the other 
 way." 
 
 " I assure you," said Kathy, laughing, " that 
 there is nobody she likes half so well, approves of 
 half so much ; she is always praising you. Some 
 times," she added, with irresistible mirth, " I pick 
 all sorts of flaws in you, just to get up an argu 
 ment." Then, having said so much, Kathy, sud 
 denly abashed, seemed at a loss which way to look. 
 In fact, such an unconquerable fit of shyness had 
 come over her, Garthe needed to have been in 
 tensely preoccupied not to be curious to know what 
 had caused it. 
 
 What he was busy thinking about, however, 
 was not Kathy at all, but the problem which Con 
 stance s whole conduct presented. The most fin 
 ished coquette could have done no more to stir, 
 charm, and torment, than had she in her advan 
 cing, beckoning as it were, then receding, almost 
 vanishing. What had originally been a mere im 
 pulse to test himself, to assert his own right to the 
 simple, everyday pleasures which belong to every 
 
138 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 man, now became a passionate wish, somehow, to 
 reach this girl, this girl with her clear, luminous 
 face full of feeling and loyalty, like a brave, honest 
 child s, and find out the secret of her enigmatical 
 behavior. 
 
 His utter forgetf ulness of everything except this 
 wish to reach her was something incredible, when 
 one considered his state of mind a month or two 
 before. He, the most silent of men, found himself 
 talking at a dinner-table in a way to insure her giv 
 ing him a glance. He had had a different life from 
 other men, and could touch many subjects gener 
 ally left untouched, and that, too, with a freshness 
 and fullness of meaning which commanded atten 
 tion. When the light of her glance had once flashed 
 through him, he was willing to be silent the rest 
 of the evening ; the glow and fire of her dark eyes 
 stayed with him, warmed him, comforted him. 
 Again, he used contrivance to force her to shake 
 hands with him, when he could detect a little trem 
 bling in her fingers. More than once, in the way 
 she bit her lips and smiled resolutely when thus 
 brought to bay, there was something which stirred 
 his whole nature almost fiercely. In fact, in all 
 these challenges flung down by her reserve, there 
 was everything to rouse the resolution and the pas 
 sionate will of a man like Garthe who, when once 
 moved, was nothing less than ardent. Thus, his 
 thoughts revolving around and around Constance, 
 her look, her manner, the least detail of her 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 139 
 
 behavior, the words she had spoken that day in the 
 street, and those she had left unsaid, he had no 
 time for introspection, for groping after his own 
 motives, for questionings of his own position. 
 
 Thus it fell out that after wishing for weeks 
 that he could ask her to deal with him frankly, the 
 opportunity came, and with his quick practical 
 sense of this being his one chance, he seized it. 
 
 He had heard from Kathleen that she and Con 
 stance were going to the opera with Mrs. Chal- 
 loner that evening, and in the way he did every 
 thing now-a-days without stopping to decide what 
 must be the result of this pursuit, he set out for 
 the opera-house as soon as Larry was asleep. He 
 was conscious, as he was always conscious now in 
 looking forward to a chance of meeting Constance, 
 of a heightened state of nervous tension, of a joy 
 ous fever like that he had sometimes felt when on 
 the verge of some discovery or invention. 
 
 Just as he was about to enter the opera-house 
 he encountered John Marchmont, and they shook 
 hands. Garthe, preoccupied although he was, was 
 conscious of a slight constraint in the manner of 
 the older man. Something had seemed to flash 
 into his eyes the moment they fell on Garthe. 
 
 " I suppose you are going to join Mrs. Chal- 
 loner s party," he said. 
 
 "Mrs. Challoner did not invite me," Garthe 
 answered. " I may look in ; Mrs. Garner and her 
 daughter are with her, I suppose." 
 
140 THE STOEY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " I have just left Constance sitting alone at 
 home," said John Marchmont. "She did not feel 
 quite well ; did not come out ; I dined with her." 
 
 " Is she ill ? " demanded Garthe. " Too ill to 
 see a visitor ? " 
 
 " She has a slight cold. I left her sitting before 
 the fire not ten minutes ago," said Mr. Marchmont. 
 A load seemed taken off him ; he smiled at Garthe, 
 observing with relief this instant bound in a new 
 direction. 
 
 "I wish to ask Miss Garner a question," the 
 young man said with quick decision. " I will try 
 at all events to find her." He was off in a flash. 
 
 " Miss Garner is at home ? " he said to the ser 
 vant who opened the door of the house on Lexing 
 ton Avenue. He did not wait to be announced. 
 He was conscious not only of a clear purpose, but 
 of a vehemence which made it an imperious need 
 to act upon his purpose. He threw off his outside 
 garment and walked straight into the drawing- 
 room where Constance sat before the fire, holding a 
 book in her hand, but not at the moment reading. 
 She heard footsteps, looked up, and saw Garthe. 
 
 He had gained her side and stood looking down 
 with a serious, unfaltering look. 
 
 " Mr. Marchmont told me you were at home," he 
 said. " I ventured to come. I had a particular 
 wisli to see you." 
 
 She had not risen. There was no reason why 
 she should rise, but she was conscious of her pow- 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 141 
 
 erlessness. She was startled by his advent, and 
 showed it. She could not regain her self-command, 
 but sat feeling helpless. He took her hand and 
 looked into her face. 
 
 " I hope you are not too ill to receive me," he 
 said. 
 
 44 No, not ill. Perhaps a little feverish. I caught 
 at an excuse for not going out." 
 
 " I have wished for weeks to ask you a ques 
 tion," he said, not yet releasing her hand. 
 
 " Sit down, will you not ? " she murmured at 
 last, drawing it away, " I am sorry that " 
 
 " Sorry that I came ? " 
 
 44 No, we are always glad to see you. I am sorry 
 that Kathy is away." 
 
 He smiled. " I knew that she was at the opera. 
 I heard that you were here alone." 
 
 44 Kathy " she began, but he interrupted. 
 
 "Miss Garner, with every one else you are a 
 truthful and candid person. I beseech you to deal 
 simply with me to-night. I must know how I 
 stand with you." 
 
 He could see the trouble in her face as his eyes 
 held hers. He went on : 
 
 " First, do you remember what I said that 
 day at Mr. Marchmont s ? " 
 
 She drew a deep breath as if stifled. " Remem 
 ber it ? Oh, yes, I remember it very well." 
 
 "Did I offend you?" 
 
 44 Offend me?" 
 
142 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 44 Yes, did I offend you?" 
 
 44 1 have tried to forget it," she murmured. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 She looked at him appealingly, then withdrew 
 her glance. 
 
 44 1 cannot think why you should ask me such a 
 question," she said proudly. u If it had to be for 
 gotten, it had to be forgotten." 
 
 44 But why forgotten ? Did it displease your 
 taste, your conventional sense, or your conscience ? 
 Did it shock, repel, vex you ? " 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 44 1 have said to myself since," Garthe went on, 
 44 when I found you withdrawn from me, that I had 
 overstepped my bounds. Perhaps you will remem 
 ber that I dropped out of your sight, that I went 
 back to the poor fragment of a life I have outside 
 of that to which you belong. But one day when 
 I encountered you, you said to me 4 come, and I 
 came." 
 
 She shrank a little. 4 I ought not to have said 
 it," she said, as if pierced with remorse. 
 
 44 Because you were not sincere ? " 
 
 44 Oh yes, I was sincere." 
 
 44 Sincere in wishing me to come, or in liking 
 me?" 
 
 44 Sincere in wishing you to come." 
 
 44 You do not like me, then," he exclaimed. 
 
 44 1 did not say that," she returned, so quickly 
 it seemed to be a point of conscience. 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 143 
 
 " But you have been less kind. You told me 
 to come again. I came, of course. I had, in com 
 ing again, no right to count on your favor. It 
 would be absurd self-conceit in me to complain 
 that you have avoided me. That you ever seemed 
 not to avoid me was, I suppose, merely your gene 
 rosity. That you ever seemed to encourage me, to 
 draw me on, was, no doubt, because you discovered 
 in me a critically apathetic state of mind, which, 
 as a sweet woman, you longed to cure. And you 
 have cured it. Instead of being dull, callous, 
 dumb, under blows, I have waked up. I have ven 
 tured to see and feel, almost to hope. Especially 
 that day at Mr. Marchmont s I was happy and alive. 
 The thought of you sitting in the alcove with the 
 sunset light on your face has come up to me again 
 and again. If I were to live a hundred years I 
 should never have again just such an experience ; 
 it is a recollection apart from anything else, held 
 sacred, everlastingly renewed. And, Miss Garner, 
 I could have sworn that day you did not dislike 
 me." 
 
 She lifted her eyes, then dropped them. " Oh, 
 Mr. Garthe," she said restlessly. 
 
 " I am unmanly in thus pressing you to the wall ; 
 still I am most a man in saying that I must know 
 just how and why I displeased you. If you dislike 
 me I will go away instantly, you need never think 
 of me again." 
 
 Her proud young face was something to watch 
 
144 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 as she tried in vain to raise her eyes. Her under 
 lip quivered. 
 
 " Shall I go away ? " he demanded. 
 
 "Of course I do not wish you to go away," she 
 said simply. " Kathy and I have enjoyed your 
 acquaintance extremely." 
 
 " You ! When you have avoided me ! When 
 you have tolerated any man, any woman, an album 
 of pictures, a screen of plants, anything, to keep 
 me at a distance ! " he returned. " Do not, I beg 
 of you, swerve away from my direct question. It 
 means so much to me. Shall I go away ? " 
 
 He bent down and tried to read the expression 
 of her face. He took her hands in one of his and 
 brought down the other upon them. 
 
 " Speak," he said softly. " Am I to go away ? " 
 
 " No," she whispered. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, thank you." 
 
 " But " she began, restless under this fervor, 
 trying to draw her hands from him. 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 " I am not thinking about myself in this matter. 
 I must make you realize that I am not thinking 
 about myself." 
 
 " I only ask that you shall think a little of me," 
 .said Garthe, smiling. " It is only fair. I myself 
 have done nothing of late except to think of you." 
 
 She raised her eyes and met his. He saw the 
 play of a dimple on her cheek, as if suddenly re 
 assured. 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 145 
 
 " Please do not," she said lightly, yet implor 
 ingly. 
 
 But his look, the pressure of his hand, over 
 whelmed her anew. Indeed, his whole face was 
 transfigured with feeling. What had originally 
 sprung from an impulse merely to understand the 
 situation had become an overmastering instinct to 
 push the situation to its limit. 
 
 " Please do not what ? " he asked. 
 
 " Please do not think of me." 
 
 " Do not ask the impossible. Trust me. Dear 
 est, you may trust me. I am to be trusted." 
 
 " Then please let go my hand." 
 
 " Do you not trust me ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I trust you." 
 
 He released her hand, but her exquisite blush 
 the beautiful soft mildness of her eyes made his 
 heart swell with the sweetest hope he had ever felt. 
 He watched her face as he went on speaking 
 rapidly. 
 
 " Yes, you are safe in trusting me. I will claim 
 nothing. There is much, however, that I long to 
 understand. At first you made me welcome here, 
 then you put barriers between yourself and me. 
 Has any one been influencing you against me ? " 
 
 " No, no. Do not think of such a thing." 
 
 " Yet you changed." 
 
 Again she suffered before his eyes. He studied 
 her face as he studied a page of problems, with a 
 knitted brow. He forced himself to review the 
 
146 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 history of their acquaintance. His insight was 
 swifter than his logic. With a single leap he 
 reached the truth. 
 
 "Understand ine once for all, Constance," he 
 said in a soft, clear voice. " It is just as I told you 
 that day, it is you and no other. No other woman 
 exists for me." 
 
 " Then I have done very wrong," she said with 
 a piteous glance and tone. " I have made a 
 wicked mistake." 
 
 " Dear, I have had one single feeling, that you 
 are such a woman as I had never yet dreamed of. 
 I have had no choice but to act on the impulse 
 which drew me to you. I do not know how to 
 pretend. I had no reason for pretending." 
 
 " I cannot endure to have you tell me such 
 things. You pught not to flatter me. I am very 
 unhappy." 
 
 She was pale and looked at him anxiously. He 
 had drawn a chair close to her, and at last sat 
 down facing her. 
 
 " I am sorry to have you unhappy," he said, lean 
 ing nearer. " But if you are unhappy about me 
 there is some consolation in that." 
 
 " It is something quite different," said Constance, 
 almost with indignation. " How can you jest on 
 such a subject ? " 
 
 " Jest ? If you knew my heart, how I long to 
 fall at your feet, how sweet it is to be here, yet 
 how little I dare say what I feel ! " 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 147 
 
 She extended her hand with a little gesture ; he 
 caught it and clasped it passionately. 
 
 " Oh, I did not mean that," she said hastily. 
 
 " I take anything you give me. I am the merest 
 beggar." 
 
 Again the dimple played on her cheek. Let her 
 try as she might to control the situation, it controlled 
 her. In spite of all her resolution, all her will, 
 all her wish, he disarmed her pride, quieted her 
 alarm. 
 
 " I want you to forget all that you have said," 
 she now ventured with a humble glance. 
 
 " But I have not begun to say it. I am dying to 
 say that I love you, love you, love you." 
 
 " But please, Mr. Garthe, I ask you to go back 
 and forget all that, to make a fresh start. If you 
 really care for me " 
 
 " If I really care for you ! " 
 
 " Then," she said softly, " you will do what I 
 ask, you will go back and make a new beginning." 
 
 He looked at her intently. He did not catch her 
 meaning. 
 
 " There is no possible step backward in life. 
 You cannot put back the full leaf into the bud." 
 
 " But you must see things from my point of 
 view." 
 
 " I will try to do so, on one condition." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " That you will remember that I love you, that 
 I desire above every earthly thing to have you for 
 
148 THE STORY OF LA WHENCE GAETHE. 
 
 my wife. You will not forget that, my dearest 
 one ? " 
 
 " How can I forget it? " she said rather sadly 
 under her breath. Their eyes had met for a mo 
 ment. He was beloved, he knew that he was 
 beloved. 
 
 " Now tell me just where the difficulty comes in," 
 he said. 
 
 But she shivered. It was not easy to summon 
 cold logic under the fire of his eyes. 
 
 " Suppose," he said quietly, " I were to hazard 
 a bold guess. You desire everything for Kathy. 
 Let me call her Kathy, for I love her for her own 
 sake and for yours. You desire everything for 
 her, above all a happy second marriage. You 
 feel that for you to accept love, companionship, 
 anything personal and precious to yourself, and 
 leave her lonely and unmated, seems selfish and 
 cruel." 
 
 She looked at him with wonder, exclaiming : 
 
 " Are you a wizard, to read my thoughts?" 
 
 " I am a wizard. See that you have no thoughts 
 I may not read." He smiled. " Here is another 
 bold guess. When you saw me, you said to your 
 self, Perhaps this man may do for Kathy. 
 
 " Surely it was very natural. You were 
 young" 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 44 We heard good tilings of you. Kathy was 
 attracted by you ; I trusted you on the instant." 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 149 
 
 " You can t begin to think how it flatters me 
 that you should consider me half good enough for 
 Kathy," said Garthe, laughing slightly. " I know 
 you would not egoistically insist upon having some 
 thing better than you designed for her. I venture 
 to infer that " 
 
 A look of pain had come over her face. " I am 
 not thinking of myself. I do not dare think of 
 myself." 
 
 " Not yet," he answered. " First, we are to pro 
 vide a happy future for Kathy. But I see one all 
 ready for her. There is a man ready and eager to 
 take the responsibility off our hands." 
 
 " Not Mr. Hartley ! " 
 
 " Certainly not Hartley. Quite a different 
 man." 
 
 " I cannot think whom you mean." 
 
 " John Marchmont." 
 
 " But he was papa s friend," cried Constance, 
 aghast. " We have known him always. He 
 regards us both as daughters." 
 
 " He may regard you as a daughter ; certainly he 
 has no such feeling towards Kathy." 
 
 " You must be mistaken." 
 
 " No, I am not mistaken." 
 
 She drew a long breath. " But Kathy is not in 
 love with Mr. Marchmont," she said in a tone of 
 distress, as if Kathy were in love with somebody 
 else. 
 
 "Don t do her that injustice," said Garthe, 
 
150 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 almost with vehemence, answering not her words, 
 but the meaning behind her words. "It is not 
 true. I warn you not to believe it. How dare 
 you ? " he said, bending towards her. " I say, how 
 dare you give her to the man who loves you?" 
 
 "But I want her to be happy," faltered Con 
 stance, with a quivering lip. " If you could 
 love her I should rejoice I " 
 
 He knitted his brow and looked at her almost 
 in anger. Then his face cleared and he laughed. 
 
 " What would you do ? Marry John March- 
 mont ? " 
 
 " I have never thought of marrying. I have 
 never had any wish to marry. With Kathy 
 happy" 
 
 " She will be happy with John Marchmont," said 
 Garthe. " Look at me, Constance." He laid his 
 hand on hers as he met her eyes. " I could not 
 make her happy," he said quietly. " She is not a 
 woman I could rest upon, and believe in, and 
 satisfy. But I feel, dear, that if you would first 
 love me, then forgive me certain things, I might 
 make you very happy." 
 
 She did not answer except with a soft little sigh, 
 which was, he knew, for Kathy. 
 
 " What makes you think Mr. Marchmont cares 
 for her ? " she finally asked, breaking the silence. 
 
 " Something in the way he watches me ; in the 
 relief he showed to-night when I spoke of coming 
 to see you; in a hundred different things. Do 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 151 
 
 you recall how, the first night I dined here, I 
 picked up a slipper, an adorable little slipper ? " 
 
 "You picked it up? I thought it was Mr. 
 Marchmont." 
 
 " It was I, but the moment his eye fell on it he 
 was in a fever. That Hartley or I should touch, 
 even look at the holy thing, was profanation. He 
 stole it from under my very eyes. I confess I 
 always wondered what the sequel was." 
 
 He looked at her, wondering to see her quite 
 downcast. 
 
 " Poor Kathy," she sighed. " I do wish, I can 
 not help wishing that " 
 
 He laid his hand against her lips. " Don t say 
 it," he murmured. " You are sure to repent it. 
 Some day you will be wiser. Evidently, you do 
 not know what it is for a man to be in love, not to 
 say a woman." 
 
 His words and manner drove their significance 
 to her heart. 
 
 " I treat you badly," she faltered. 
 
 " Treat me as badly as you like, so long as you 
 feel that our fates are inter volved, that we are 
 one in desiring the very best that can happen to 
 Kathy." 
 
 There was a secret intoxication for him in the 
 conviction that she was holding to the letter of the 
 law which bade her give tip everything dear to 
 her step-mother, but that in spite of duty of con 
 science, she was already half conquered. In her 
 
152 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 indecision, in her abnegation of self, she was 
 almost more seductive than she could have been if 
 she had instantly accorded all he asked for. The 
 clear evidence that the idea of having a lover of 
 her own was novel, startling, almost displeasing, 
 bewitched his sense. 
 
 For the moment he said no more to rouse con 
 flict in her mind. Dismissing fervor, he began to 
 talk of general subjects, showing her that even as 
 a lover he could be calm and self-contained. It 
 seemed, too, to show his generosity that he had not 
 been wounded by her lack of response. A little 
 worn and weary, she had sometimes longed for a 
 strong directing hand, a mind answering hers with 
 instant comprehension ; but she had not expected 
 it. For herself, let the worst happen if only 
 Kathy might escape the sordid ills of life ; that had 
 been her unhesitating thought. Now as Garthe 
 talked she saw his clear-cut face, his vivid glance, 
 with a new sense of pleasure and of relief. The 
 reality of his position towards her, contrasting with 
 the decorous flow of conversation, deepened the 
 meaning of his words and kindled almost a roman 
 tic feeling. 
 
 The clock chimed, and all at once she started. 
 
 " What is it?" he demanded. 
 
 " She will be coming home." 
 
 " Kathy ? You prefer she should not find me 
 here?" 
 
 She nodded. Both had risen. Their eyes met, 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 153 
 
 not casually, but with the sense of a supreme 
 moment. 
 
 " I will go at once," he said. She extended 
 timidly a fair, white hand. "Is it mine?" he 
 asked, raising it and bending as if to put his lips 
 to it. 
 
 " No, no, no," she cried ; " not to-night." 
 " Not to-night," he repeated, " but " 
 He saw that she pulsed with eagerness to have 
 him go away. He knew her motive, and it vindi 
 cated her coldness. He did not linger. When he 
 was in the street, he found himself excited to fever- 
 heat. He had been aware that while talking to 
 
 O 
 
 Constance, a gayety, long unknown to his habit but 
 still unexhausted in his nature, had almost caught 
 him up and carried him away ; but not until this 
 moment did he realize the intensity of his exulta 
 tion over his achievement. He himself had not 
 foreseen just how far the logic of the situation was 
 to compel him. But she loved him. He thought 
 over each detail of the three hours he had spent 
 with her. He would have had nothing different. 
 Again and again he repeated her last words, " No, 
 no, no, not to-night," feeling that their meaning 
 was not denial, but surrender. How sweet, how 
 naive, how good she was ! While he talked to her 
 he had been conscious of her keen intelligence, be 
 sides her sympathy ; not that of a mere clever 
 woman whose object is to bring out what is in a 
 man in order to display her own wit and assimilate 
 
154 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 his knowledge, but that of a loving heart which 
 penetrates, divines, and feels. 
 
 His brain was thrilled, his heart was warmed, his 
 whole nature kindled by a sense of this higher 
 life, this swifter stirring of the intellect and pulses 
 she could give him. He began to feel a rebellious 
 longing for the kiss she had made him forego. He 
 wanted her tangibly, palpably, here at his side. 
 I low little he had said, after all, not a word of 
 his perpetual thought of her, his loneliness without 
 her, the cry of his soul for her soul. He almost 
 dreaded to go home. and meet the midnight hush in 
 his house ; the soft hiss of the burning fire ; the 
 lamp lighted and shaded for reading ; the sense of 
 little Larry upstairs asleep ; the solitude below, 
 with its terrible need of a presence which rested, 
 soothed, sustained. 
 
 With this thought, a significant bubble broke up 
 from the deeps of his passionate reverie. He 
 stopped short in the street. lie had suddenly real 
 ized that this fervor of feeling he had expended and 
 was expending must be paid for. He, of all men, 
 could least afford to give up his adherence to cool 
 and candid reason. 
 
 He had halted opposite an open square. The 
 night was foggy ; the electric lights gave strange 
 effects to the vapors out of which steeples, roofs, 
 towers, and statues loomed up tremendously magni 
 fied. Some of the buildings looked like giants with 
 burning eyes ; the commonest sight seemed weird 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT Jf#." 155 
 
 and fantastic. Garthe, at this moment of reaction 
 from a great happiness into a sombre mood, saw 
 something almost threatening in this strange aspect 
 of things : in the intensely luminous light which 
 was not light, contrasting with the darkness which 
 was not so much darkness as a yawning gulf of 
 blackness invading the province of the light. Far 
 above glimmered a wan moon, showing to-night 
 no white fire to consume the smouldering residue 
 of spent cloud, but focusing its pallid image at the 
 end of a long shining tunnel of fog. A ghostly 
 night, a night to give the lie to hope ; to annihi 
 late at a breath color, warmth, passion. In spite of 
 sounds from the streets, from the elevated railways, 
 which told that the stir, the life, the movement of 
 the city were not all at an end, it was a night to in 
 spire the belief that everything was dead. 
 
 While Garthe stood, undecided whether to go 
 home or whether to continue his walk, all at once, 
 out of a confused group of figures at the corner, 
 one separated itself and approached him. 
 
 " I thought it was you, Lawrence," said Ferdi 
 nand Hartley s cheery voice. " What are you do 
 ing here at midnight ? " 
 
 " I am on my way home," said Garthe. " I 
 stopped for a moment to look at the fog, it moves 
 across the square like an army of ghosts." 
 
 " Beastly night," said Hartley. " I advise you 
 not to stand too long and let the dampness pene 
 trate your vitals." 
 
156 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 " Are you going to your room ? " 
 
 " Yes. Come on with me." 
 
 " I 11 walk with you as far as your door. I 
 have n t seen you lately." 
 
 " Nor I you. But then, I have dropped all my 
 old friends," said Hartley, with a sort of chuckle. 
 
 " Something more interesting ?" 
 
 O O 
 
 " Something more engrossing. Oh, by the way, 
 Lawrence, you know Montana, did you ever 
 happen to hear of a man by the name of Aurelio 
 Hernandez ? " 
 
 " Yes ; a little dried-up Mexican, and as bad as 
 they make them, which is, I assure you, pretty bad." 
 
 "Rich?" 
 
 " Said to be very rich. He had swindled twenty 
 better men out of their claims and had got almost 
 complete possession of two mines. Besides, he 
 owned more than one ranch, and controlled large 
 interests in half a dozen different directions." 
 
 " Did you ever happen to see his wife ? " 
 
 " I never heard that he had a wife." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " 
 
 " He might have been married all the time. 
 Why do you ask ? The man is dead ; I saw some 
 time ago he was killed by falling down a shaft." 
 
 " That was true, then ! " said Hartley, in a tone 
 as if of relief. 
 
 Garthe looked at Hartley. 
 
 " Why are you interested in that old miser ? " 
 he inquired. 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 157 
 
 " I know his widow," said Hartley significantly. 
 " I have just come from the Percy, where she is 
 spending the winter." 
 
 " Is she the new and engrossing acquaintance ? " 
 
 " She is." 
 
 " What kind of a woman ? " 
 
 " Quite unexceptionable ; unimpeachable credit ; 
 brings letters ; has a companion who never leaves 
 her alone " 
 
 " Rich, I take it, if she comes in for Hernandez s 
 money," said Garthe dryly. 
 
 " Everything seems irresistibly to point to that 
 conclusion," answered Hartley lightly. " I m not 
 wholly disinterested. You know my necessities ; 
 indeed, who should know them better ? I have but 
 one ambition ; that is, to see my way clear to the 
 possession of some of the elegancies and refinements 
 of life. I should like to have no sordid considera 
 tions. I should prefer to be able myself to offer 
 the woman I love all the luxuries which wealth can 
 give. Failing this, why should not the woman who 
 loves me offer me all the riches her late husband 
 left her?" 
 
 " Do you mean that you are trying to marry this 
 widow of old Hernandez ? " 
 
 "Why not, if lean?" 
 
 " How old is she ? " 
 
 " She is young ; that is, young enough, and hand 
 some, splendid dark hair and eyes, rich bloom, 
 Southern blood in her veins. I wish you would 
 go with me, some evening, to see her." 
 
158 TUE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " Thank you very much, but I should be in the 
 way." 
 
 " Not at all, and as you both know the West " 
 
 " I hate the West." cried Garthe with sudden 
 angry scorn. " I hate every suggestion of the life 
 there. If I had iny choice, I would never meet 
 anybody who had crossed the Mississippi. I say 
 to myself, the old life at the West is over, it is fin 
 ished, it is dead, I have no longer any part in it, 
 or it in me ! I hate the very ghost of it." 
 
 " Mrs. Hernandez is not much fonder of her ex 
 perience there than you seem to be," said Hartley, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Let me see ; you say she is dark-haired, dark- 
 eyed?" 
 
 "Yes. You recall her?" demanded Hartley 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, no. I simply asked. She is really hand- 
 
 O 99 
 
 some : 
 
 "At times quite superb, overdresses a little, 
 but still gets herself up effectively. She is amus 
 ing, naive as a child, and says with singular frank 
 ness everything that comes into her head, partly 
 in order to shock her duenna, perhaps." 
 
 " The Spaniards have a proverb, 4 Who says all 
 soon arrives at all. 
 
 " She is discreet, even if not quite conventional. 
 Many a woman in the best society does things 
 more out of taste. She means to improve, and will 
 improve. I wish you would come with me to see 
 her." 
 
159 
 
 " No, thank you, and don t mention me to her." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I did n t like the late Hernandez, although he 
 once paid me the compliment of offering me five 
 hundred dollars a month ; then, when I declined, was 
 willing to double the sum. I told him frankly I 
 would not, at any price, have anything to do with 
 him, that I detested him." 
 
 " Oh, I see ; you think she will bear you a 
 grudge," said Hartley. They had reached his place. 
 " Will you come in ? " he asked. 
 
 Garthe said it was time to go home. They shook 
 hands and parted. Their talk had not lasted ten 
 minutes, but the experience had seemed strangely 
 to separate Garthe from his former mood, and the 
 gap and chasm did not fill up. 
 
 He tried to bring back the image of Constance, 
 close beside him, her hand in his own ; her face in 
 stinct with feeling; her lovely eyes, opening full 
 on his for a moment, then dropping their lids, 
 but something interposed with warning finger. He 
 suddenly saw his conduct in a different light. Had 
 he gone to her that night with deliberation, he must 
 have felt that he had no right to say to her, " Be 
 my wife," without first enlightening her fully upon 
 every point of his own history. For a moment he 
 was ready to regard himself as a vulgar schemer 
 who, to compass his ends, resorts to any sort of 
 machinations. The very belief in his trustworthi 
 ness which he had imposed upon her, as if he had 
 
160 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GslRTHE. 
 
 a right to be a second conscience in which she could 
 find her best courage and her best strength, was 
 now a recollection to rouse scruples, to stir remorse. 
 He had acted as if there were no such things as 
 scruples, as if there were only events ; as if laws, 
 moral and social, did not exist, and as if a man 
 were necessarily the slave of circumstances. He 
 had, indeed, acted in a way in which it seemed 
 inconceivable he should have acted. He had not 
 even made allusion to his marriage, to his boy 
 Larry, the lonely little fellow into whose life she 
 would bring as much joy as into his own. 
 
 A cold fear crept about his heart; the old 
 trouble revived, the dread of daring to hope anything, 
 count on anything ; the old sense of defeat and hu 
 miliation, which made him feel like clasping Larry 
 in his arms, and going to hide himself and him in 
 some strange land, as if they were both irremediably 
 sullied and tainted. How had he dared to take 
 life simply, as if he possessed the same right as 
 other men to claim what he aspired to ! He halted 
 again in the lonely street, and looked up at the 
 cloudy sky, where the moon showed only the centre 
 of a luminous space, which formed a bright sphere 
 above the depths of gloom. 
 
 "She is as much separated from me and my 
 destiny," he said audibly, " as that light from this 
 darkness, as that heaven from this hell." 
 
 Then even as he gazed up, feeling defiant, proud, 
 unutterably wretched at heart, wishing that he 
 
"SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE LOOKED AT ME." 161 
 
 might die and suffer no more, all at once the clouds, 
 torn across by a sudden gust, parted, and the 
 moon shone out unobscured ; while, still clearing 
 away the murky vapors, the wind went on, and 
 opening vistas into the dark blue vault disclosed 
 the Pleiades, Orion, the Great Bear, and the whole 
 shining galaxy. 
 
 The sight, even if it did not brighten Garthe, 
 sustained him. If Constance loved him, and he 
 believed she loved him already a little, and would 
 love him more, she would look unflinchingly into 
 his past, understand it and him in it, with absolute 
 acceptance, with absolute sympathy. There could 
 be no use in his despair, in his disgust, in his rage 
 against his fate. Long ago he had shed all his 
 tears, exhausted all his surprise that that bitter, 
 that accursed taint should have come upon his life. 
 What he had had to do, what he still had to do, 
 was to keep from despair, from murmuring, from 
 cavil and doubt of the worth of anything in God s 
 universe ; to go on as a man should go on, testing 
 his own sincerity, accepting nothing from happy 
 chance, from trick or effort to shape events to his 
 own ends. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BELLA AND EUGENIA. 
 
 GARTHE, in their brief interview, had observed 
 that Ferdinand Hartley s old blitheness of heart 
 had returned. In fact, what Mrs. Hernandez s 
 admirer experienced now-a-days was a subtle sense 
 of humor in the situation, besides the satisfaction of 
 knowing he was a bold man hazarding an experi 
 ment. Hitherto anything outside his own set had 
 been outside the world ; not to know certain people, 
 not to be included in certain coteries, was not to 
 exist. Now his mind was expanded for a larger view 
 of things. This paltry world of New York, in which 
 he had hitherto lived, moved, and had his being, 
 had done little or nothing for him. There were new 
 worlds to conquer ; with plenty of money one might 
 live well in London, in Paris, even in Japan. 
 There is a foolish and cowardly fastidiousness 
 which narrows a man and limits his chances ; he 
 would have no more of it. His scheme was to make 
 himself indispensable to Mrs. Hernandez, not -to 
 increase her knowledge of the world in a way to 
 lessen her need of him ; rather to centre and concen 
 trate her belief in her dependence upon him ; in 
 short, to become her husband. 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 163 
 
 She was rarely out of his thoughts. Standing 
 at the window of his club and watching women go 
 by, he compared them with her, not unf requently to 
 her advantage and their disadvantage. She often 
 disappointed him, often shocked him when he was 
 prepared to admire; still she had a style of her 
 own which was effective, often rather diabolically 
 effective. Of course, a man must stand in his 
 position in order to distinguish certain flaws in her 
 as jealously as Hartley was obliged to do. He had 
 speculated a good deal as to whether she could not 
 be induced to subdue herself to the general tone 
 and color of society ; and it was probably when he 
 despaired a little of her reaching a fuller apprehen 
 sion of certain niceties that he was ready to con 
 gratulate himself that there existed outside this 
 paltry little New York world the larger world of 
 Paris, London, or Japan, as a more liberal school 
 of manners. For although he flattered himself 
 upon his influence over Mrs. Hernandez, or Bella, 
 as he began to call her to himself, there was at 
 times an unexpected quality about her which made 
 him feel doubts whether he perfectly understood 
 the mainspring of the mechanism. Not even Miss 
 Shepard could invariably control it.; although at the 
 first sign of exuberance, not to say boisterousness, 
 she showed a frown between her brows and a 
 sparkle in her yellow eyes which betokened disap 
 probation. " Yet," Hartley pondered, " just give 
 Bella an assured position and her motto of Je suis 
 
164 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 ce que je suis, so take me as I am and make the 
 best of me, would be in her favor. Such women 
 rule the world just because they love sensation, 
 enjoy their own success, and make the most of it." 
 But an assured position is not to be picked up 
 at the first corner, and, meanwhile, Hartley and the 
 Roylances contrived amusements for the rich and 
 pretty widow, who, so long as she was not left with 
 out homage and without entertainment, preferred 
 to pause a little on the brink and not make a 
 plunge to gain the mid-current. She liked, she 
 said, to look on ; to study out clews, to speculate, 
 to ask questions. Indeed, Hartley sometimes sus 
 pected her of tremors. She was interested in her 
 business affairs, spent much time with her lawyer, 
 and liked to understand the ins and outs of the 
 least negotiation ; and with these occupations and 
 with somebody to turn to, to listen, flatter, and 
 applaud, she seemed quite contented with the 
 superficial character of her social diversions. There 
 was probably excitement of a high degree simply 
 in the ordering and wearing of her gowns. She 
 made a weekly dinner for the Roylances and for 
 some of Miss Shepard s friends, accepted a few 
 invitations from them, attended lectures and meet 
 ings occasionally when Eugenia spoke or cooperated 
 with others ; but it was clear to Hartley that what 
 she really looked forward to and depended on was 
 his own frequent visits : with him her vitality was 
 always aglow, her inquisitiveness always alert, her 
 desire for an audience gratified. 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 165 
 
 One evening in January, when he had been in 
 vited to dinner, he found, to his satisfaction, on 
 arriving, that he was the only guest. 
 
 " I am tired of all the other people I know, * 
 Mrs. Hernandez said frankly, as she shook hands 
 with him. " I hope you are not disappointed, but 
 you will see no one except Eugenia and me." 
 
 Hartley, who could say such things as well as 
 most men, expressed his pleasure that there was no 
 party. 
 
 "They say," continued Mrs. Hernandez, "that 
 two are company and three are a crowd ; but 
 Eugenia and I are to all intents and purposes one. 
 body and soul you might call us." 
 
 " I quite disclaim the idea of being merged in 
 any other person s identity," said Miss Shepard. 
 " Whatever I am, I am Eugenia Shepard ; whatever 
 faults or virtues I possess, they are my own." 
 
 " She wishes not to be responsible for mine," 
 said Mrs. Hernandez gayly. " But all the same 
 she is my conscience-keeper." 
 
 "The keeper of your conscience has no very 
 heavy burden to carry," said Miss Shepard with 
 her grim smile. 
 
 These railleries were not without charm for 
 Hartley, showing as they did a good understanding 
 between the two women. For, let him admire Mrs. 
 Hernandez as he might, it was Miss Shepard in 
 whom he actually trusted and believed, whose men 
 tal stability gave worth to Mrs. Hernandez s money, 
 
160 THE STORY OF LA WHENCE GARTHE. 
 
 whose seriousness gave substance to her levity, 
 whose altruism balanced her self-love. 
 
 Mrs. Hernandez s good looks were set off to 
 night with peculiar piquancy by an airy black 
 gown sparkling with jet. Round neck and wrists 
 she wore chains of Indian gold with filigree pen 
 dants, and in her curls and braids were pins of 
 the same beautifully worked metal. She had, per 
 haps, rather a savage taste for ornaments, Hartley, 
 habitually critical, said to himself, but they be 
 came her. She possessed a style of her own, and 
 what her actual beauty did not effect a certain 
 verve and vitality easily could. Then, too, when 
 a woman is pretty, the fact that she is, besides, 
 a rich woman gives the least of her attractions a 
 point and an edge. 
 
 " Let us have dinner at once," said Mrs. Her 
 nandez to the man in attendance. He drew back 
 the curtains and disclosed a beautiful little table in 
 the alcove, all silver and crystal, with a great bowl 
 of Catherine Mermet roses in the centre. They 
 went out together, and the servant drew the chair 
 opposite the hostess for the guest ; but, as if he did 
 not observe it, Hartley took a place at his hostess s 
 right hand. 
 
 " Ah," she said, looking at him with her spar 
 kling ironical glance, " you decline to take the foot 
 of the table." 
 
 " Great as is my ambition," replied Hartley, " I 
 am still too modest to take such a place unless it 
 fairly belongs to me." 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 167 
 
 " Is it that you are modest," she retorted, " or 
 that your motto is All or nothing ? " 
 
 "You define it exactly," said Hartley, turning 
 his laughing blue eyes full upon her. " I will have 
 all or nothing." 
 
 "Just as well to leave the place empty," said 
 Mrs. Hernandez laughing. " It leaves something 
 to the imagination." 
 
 " Let us trust that no ghost of Banquo will rise 
 to fill it," said Hartley idly, simply to carry on the 
 jest. Kather to his dismay, at his words Mrs. 
 Hernandez gave a visible shudder, and said hur 
 riedly to the servant, 
 
 " Take the things away, the chair, and the 
 glasses, and knives, and forks. I have the most 
 childish horror of ghosts," she added, with another 
 shiver, glancing first at one and then at the other 
 of her companions. 
 
 " So have I," said Hartley soothingly. He was 
 conscious not only of his own awkwardness, but of 
 the singularity of her minding such a hackneyed 
 allusion. To change the subject, he began talking 
 at once about a great ball which they had attended 
 the night before. Mrs. Hernandez had taken a 
 box. He had spent some time with her and Miss 
 Shepard, pointing out certain notable people, and 
 afterwards they had watched him as he joined one 
 group after another in the circle or on the floor. 
 
 " I felt very much flattered that, with so many 
 friends, you had wasted any time on poor, insignifi 
 cant me," observed Mrs. Hernandez. 
 
168 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTH E. 
 
 " That was the only part of the evening 1 en 
 joyed," said Hartley. 
 
 " But so many beautiful ladies, so many charm 
 ing girls ! " 
 
 " Keflect that I am an old stager ; that I en 
 tered society eight or nine years ago ; that all my 
 set were long since married off ; that the new ones 
 are made up of boys and girls I have patted on the 
 head, and who regard me as an antique, some 
 thing left over from the last century. I cannot 
 dance to their piping." 
 
 " To whose, then ? " Mrs. Hernandez asked 
 coquottishly. 
 
 " If I am ambitious, I had better conceal tho 
 height and breadth of my ambition." 
 
 Her eyes sparkled. " I like to think you are 
 ambitious. One has to be ambitious in this world ! " 
 she exclaimed eagerly. u One has to take one s 
 life in both hands and squeeze what one wants out 
 of it as if it were an orange." 
 
 "Then throw the rind away," suggested Miss 
 Shepard. 
 
 " If one can," said Mrs. Hernandez, with a little 
 sigh. " I often exult over my success, but it is a 
 little bit spoiled. Eugenia is the really lucky wo 
 man. What I wanted was money, luxury, every 
 body s admiration. Now, in the very nature of 
 things, I find all sorts of obstacles in my way. 
 What I want depends on other people ; on my be- 
 1:13 young, in good health, and above all good spir- 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 169 
 
 its. The moment I am sick or sorry, everything I 
 have is detestable to me. But Eugenia has never 
 asked for anything except to understand things all 
 through and deep down. She does not want people 
 to admire her, to flatter her ; she does not crave 
 wealth, authority, social preeminence. She simply 
 wants " 
 
 " I am very anxious to make money," interrupted 
 Eugenia sharply. 
 
 " To send to her relations, to do good with. She 
 doesn t care about gowns, silk stockings, gold 
 chains, and brooches," Mrs. Hernandez went on, in 
 the highest spirits. " Often, when we are out, I 
 tell her to buy anything she takes a fancy to, and 
 that I will settle the bill ; but if she condescends 
 to accept my offer, it is to get hold of something 
 strong, durable, ugly." 
 
 " Well, tastes differ," said Eugenia. 
 
 " That is true. Tastes do differ extraordinarily. 
 I sometimes doubt, Mr. Hartley, whether Eugenia 
 and I actually belong to the same species ; but 
 perhaps it is only a difference in taste. She enjoys 
 women s meetings, women s clubs, women s classes. 
 She likes to discuss grievances against husbands, 
 against employers, against servants, against every 
 thing moral and religious ; for everybody has some 
 sure way to urge of reforming husbands and other 
 evils, divorce, suffrage, cooperation, socialism, 
 hypnotism, spiritualism, or Buddhism." 
 
 " She is as much fascinated by it all a& I am," 
 said Eugenia to Hartley. 
 
170 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " I go along with her, it is true," Mrs. Hernan 
 dez explained. " I like to see the different women. 
 I study them, and I listen, and am sometimes in 
 terested and sometimes amused. Often, too, I am 
 bored, bored to death. You see, I have had my 
 grievances in my time, and I know the fallacy of 
 their ready-made remedies." 
 
 " I do not see any reason for your finding fault 
 with the universe," said Hartley. " With all re 
 spect for Miss Shepard s views, I think women 
 most admirable when they do not air their griev 
 ances." 
 
 "So long as I am young, rich, and have new 
 gowns, I intend to redress mine without talking too 
 much about them," said Mrs. Hernandez gayly. 
 She stopped, and looked at her guest. " Are you 
 enjoying your dinner ? " she inquired. 
 
 " An excellent dinner so far." 
 
 " We are ladies, and our tastes may not please 
 you. Order anything you may happen to prefer." 
 
 " A capital dinner," said Hartley again. " I ask 
 no better." 
 
 " They like me downstairs," she went on. " They 
 are anxious to please me. Eugenia says that my 
 idea of what is good is whatever is most expensive. 
 I am a favorite with everybody who has anything 
 to sell. The shop-people adore me. I do not 
 haggle. I do not turn over all the goods on the 
 counter without buying, and promise to call another 
 time. I simply say, Show me the best you have ; 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 171 
 
 then, if it is handsome enough, I say, Send it to 
 the Percy. " 
 
 " Most probably," said Eugenia unfalteringly, 
 " they laugh in their sleeve at you. They see at a 
 glance that you have no experience, no nice choice, 
 no nice discrimination ; that you simply have money 
 to fling about. They say to each other that you 
 must have a gold mine behind you, and you will 
 soon be at the end of it." 
 
 " Luckily I have got a gold mine behind me," 
 said Mrs. Hernandez, meeting Miss Shepard s 
 strictures with absolute good-nature. " I have no 
 objection to being thought rich. Money is the 
 universal touchstone. Everybody loves it and de 
 sires it above all things." She turned to the man 
 behind her chair. " Just give me the salver on the 
 little table by the door," she said ; and when he 
 brought it, she made a motion directing him to put 
 it beside Hartley. " There ! " she exclaimed, in 
 triumph. " I sent a check for a hundred dollars 
 to each of three charities, and all these people 
 have been to see me." 
 
 Hartley turned over the cards. Mrs. Challoner s 
 was among them. 
 
 "They are excellent names," he said thought 
 fully. 
 
 " All the same, it is an expensive way of getting 
 into society," remarked Eugenia. 
 
 " This is a give-and-take world," replied Hartley. 
 
 " I am not easily deluded," said Mrs. Heriian- 
 
172 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 dez. ".If I give money you may be sure always 
 that I intend to get money s worth. If these peo 
 ple expect more checks they must pay me atten 
 tions, invite me to their houses, make much of me. 
 I accept whatever furthers my desire to get on in 
 the world ; not that I care particularly about it ex 
 cept to show those who have tried to keep me down 
 that I am at the very top. I might for a while en 
 joy making all the men in love with me and all the 
 women wild with envy, but I should soon be ready 
 to snap my fingers at the whole crowd and let them 
 know my opinion of them." 
 
 Hartley, startled, rather disenchanted, dropped 
 his eyes and seemed to be musing in silence. 
 
 " That is like a silly child," said Eugenia, u who 
 desires a costly plaything in order to tear it to 
 pieces. In such a position your aim should be to 
 show that you had advanced not by the mere bru 
 tal supremacy of money, but by force of character 
 rising above your limitations and hindrances. 
 Then you will have done something for your sex." 
 
 " For my sex ! " repeated Mrs. Hernandez with 
 frank derision. " She has always that bone in her 
 mouth ! She wants me to be a shining light, Mr. 
 Hartley ! She is always preaching that it espe 
 cially behooves the emancipated woman who has 
 flung away old-fashioned conventions like so much 
 useless lumber, to set a good example. I tell her 
 that she insists that a woman, having got rid of 
 her fetters, bolts, and bars, should be brought up 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 173 
 
 against a ten-barred gate which she cannot climb 
 or jump over." 
 
 "Yes, I believe in ten-barred gates," said Eu 
 genia under her breath. 
 
 " That is the way she speaks to me at times, out 
 of a fourth-story window," pursued Mrs. Hernan 
 dez, growing always more and more in high spirits. 
 " She will not understand that I do not wish to be 
 a statue of propriety, that I am a child, always was 
 and always shall be a child, that there is some 
 thing within me that refuses to grow up. Perhaps 
 it is the lawless Western training in me that gives 
 me a sense of expectation, of longing that something 
 shall happen shall drift up from the unknown. 
 I want more than other women seem to be satisfied 
 with. In some ways I have more than they have, 
 yet at times I am miserable ; I say to myself that 
 women with none of my money, youth, or good 
 looks seem to get hold of everything, while I have 
 nothing, nothing at all." 
 
 Hartley laughed. He found it no easy matter 
 to keep up with this constant metamorphosis, these 
 abrupt transitions of mood. 
 
 " You put so many new ideas buzzing in my 
 head," he exclaimed, " I cannot classify them all. 
 I should say you had everything." 
 
 " Not everything." 
 
 Hartley s eyes showed lurking fun. 
 
 " You are young, beautiful," he said with a little 
 wave of the hand. 
 
174 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTUE. 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " You have adorers." 
 
 " Who are they ? Tell me," she cried eagerly. 
 
 " I know one, at least, intimately." 
 
 " Tell me about him. What sort of a man is 
 he ? Where does he live ? " 
 
 " Here, close to you in New York." 
 
 " Is he young ? " 
 
 " Young enough, not too young." 
 
 " Handsome ? " 
 
 " H m, I might say handsome enough ; not too 
 handsome." 
 
 "Rich?" 
 
 " Alas, far from rich." 
 
 She burst into light laughter. 
 
 " Your description is not over-flattering. Not 
 too young, not too handsome, not at all rich. Is 
 he in love with me? " 
 
 " Ardently, desperately." 
 
 " That is a point in his favor." She met his 
 glance ironically, almost insolently. " He must 
 love me to distraction," she said imperiously.* " He 
 must please me." 
 
 " How is a man to please you ? " he asked with 
 a humble but fervid glance. 
 
 She let her glance pass over his face, her lips 
 still smiling, her eyes full of pride and coquetry. 
 
 " 1 like pleasure, life, movement ; I like a man 
 who lives, not one who plods on, looking neither to 
 right nor left, intent on some far-off goal ; not one 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 175 
 
 who if his window happens to open towards the 
 north, towards cold, bleakness, darkness, makes no 
 effort at any cost to cut through a passageway to 
 warmth and sunshine. Above all, I hate a man 
 who is not content to take me as I am, but wishes 
 to form me after some imaginary ideal of his own." 
 
 It seemed to Hartley, gazing at her, as if this 
 plodder, this idealist, were in her mind s eye. 
 " And although," she went on, " it does not matter 
 to me practically, I like a man to be rich. I can 
 not see why a man with any energy or resolution 
 need be poor. Nature has poured out everything 
 in such reckless profusion, gold, silver, precious 
 stones lie at his feet, and all he has to do is to stoop 
 and pick them up. He has only to plow the 
 prairie, sprinkle it with grain, and it laughs with a 
 rich harvest ; or if he is ashamed to dig and plow 
 let him buy a whole township for a song and sell 
 it foot by foot for a fortune. Certainly there seems 
 no excuse for a man s being poor in this country 
 where everything has a push behind it." 
 
 Hartley was laughing. 
 
 "Why do you laugh?" 
 
 " I was only reflecting that you seem to have had 
 a happy experience." 
 
 " No, I have not had a happy experience ; but 
 here I am, only twenty-nine years of age, with 
 plenty of money." 
 
 " I am thirty-one," said Hartley ; " I began with 
 high expectations. I had some capital ; I put it 
 
176 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 into a fairly good business; I have had an honest 
 partner who has kept me from actual disaster. 
 But with me the push, instead of being upwards, 
 has always been downwards, bad times, bad luck, 
 over competition, lack of the requisite insight into 
 good chances, Roylance s love of the safe side ! " 
 
 She was listening intently, evidently weighing 
 the worth of this confession. 
 
 " All the same," she observed, " you don t seem 
 conquered." 
 
 " No, I am not conquered." 
 
 " You take the world easily ; you seem to me 
 just fitted to be a rich man." 
 
 " Exactly my own idea on the subject." 
 
 "Why don t you marry a rich woman?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He remained silent, secretly enraged, yet he kept 
 his kindled glance fixed upon her. 
 
 " I don t mean myself necessarily," she now ex 
 plained laughing. " I was referring to the past. 
 You must have had many opportunities. I wonder 
 that you did not pick up a great heiress years ago." 
 
 " I have a heart, unluckily," he managed to say 
 with some feeling, although conscious of the inade 
 quacy of such a phrase addressed to a clear-headed 
 woman. 
 
 She continued to look at him ironically, her head 
 a little on one side. 
 
 " Evidently," she observed, " you are romantic. 
 " I suppose it is marriage which ends all that. 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 177 
 
 Still men always talk of love, love, love. They 
 don t understand the key-note of the modern 
 woman, do they, Eugenia ? " 
 
 Miss Shepard perhaps desiring while this 
 intimate conversation was going on to efface her 
 self as much as possible was sitting apparently 
 absorbed in looking down at her two hands clasped 
 together on the edge of the table. Dinner was over ; 
 it had been an elaborate meal of the sort to suit the 
 palate of a gourmand, and it was clear that Mrs. 
 Hernandez was one, rejecting anything simple and 
 accepting each novelty in the way of made dishes. 
 Champagne had been the only beverage, and of this 
 she had taken enough to exhilarate her, give added 
 color to her cheeks and brilliancy to her eyes. It 
 had more than ever struck Hartley that Miss 
 Shepard in every way made an ineffectual protest 
 against the self-indulgence, the laissez-faire of her 
 patroness. She ate sparingly of plain meat and 
 vegetables, refused wine, and kept her glass supplied 
 from her own water-bottle. Still, Hartley said to 
 himself, she may be a dyspeptic and without high 
 moral intention in all this display of heroic self- 
 sacrifice before proffered luxury. When she did 
 not reply on the instant to Mrs. Hernandez s ques 
 tion he pressed it anew, what was the dominant 
 chord in the mind of modern women ? 
 
 " I suppose she means the desire to follow out 
 the law of her own being," Miss Shepard answered 
 reluctantly. 
 
178 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " No, I mean simply and greedily, ambition," 
 said Mrs. Hernandez, who was now busy with the 
 sweets which crowned the repast. She looked at 
 Hartley with her bright mocking glance. " If a 
 woman is poor she wants money, at least what 
 money can bny. But when she has all the money 
 she knows how to spend, when she has fine clothes, 
 diamonds, handsome rooms, then she feels there is 
 something else, she is conscious of certain limit 
 ations ; she feels her lack of education, of experi 
 ence, of the sort of refinement which only comes 
 from contact with people who have the habit of the 
 things she is not quite used to. Now it is not 
 romantic love which tempts such a woman ! What 
 a man had better urge is his ability to offer her a 
 position where she may be a social centre, re 
 garded, run after, made the fashion." 
 
 She flung this at Hartley, as it were, like a chal 
 lenge. 
 
 He looked back at her, smiling, slightly satirical. 
 44 Yes, you are ambitious," he said. 
 
 " Too ambitious ? " she asked eagerly. 
 
 "Money can do a good deal, but to enjoy the 
 very flower of things you must have family, the 
 habit of society, the ease and charm which only 
 come from long social supremacy." 
 
 " I may not have birth, I may not have breed 
 ing," she returned, quite simply and earnestly, evi 
 dently impressed by his words. " But I know my 
 own power, and I believe in myself. I never 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 179 
 
 yet saw a woman I did not feel I could first imi 
 tate, then equal and surpass." She paused to 
 drop a lump of sugar into her coffee, then drank it 
 slowly. " Besides, I am rich, and I am all the 
 while growing richer." 
 
 " Shall we go into the other room ? " said Miss 
 Shepard dryly. 
 
 " You shall go into the other room if you pre 
 fer," said Mrs. Hernandez in her bright mocking 
 way. " I shall smoke a cigarette with Mr. Hart 
 ley." She turned to the servant and dismissed 
 him. " Thank heaven, he is gone," she remarked 
 as the door closed behind him. " I never feel that 
 I can talk freely before the creature. I am always 
 wondering whether he is as wooden as he looks or 
 whether he is listening to everything I say. Why 
 do you smile, Eugenia ? " 
 
 " I can fancy Mr. Hartley saying to himself, If 
 this is her discretion, what would her indiscretion 
 be? " 
 
 "Depend upon it, the man s mind is on your 
 last fee and he is trying to deserve your next one," 
 said Hartley. "Nothing you can say or do will 
 alter his fixed impression that gentlefolks is re 
 markable queer. " 
 
 " I said nothing before him," said Mrs. Hernan 
 dez, " except that I was rich and wanted to get on, 
 and he knew all that before. I am myself. Un 
 less I can be myself always, I am quite indifferent 
 to promotion." She glanced at Miss Shepard, 
 
180 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 who, slightly frowning, shook her head. " Oh, I 
 know, " she went on, 4k that I generally say, 4 If 
 other people do this or that, I will do this or that. 
 If other people conform to that usage, I will con 
 form. But to-night I am at home. Mr. Hartley 
 is my good friend, and what is the use of a friend 
 if I have to be, on my best behavior ? " She had 
 lighted her cigarette at the taper, and began to 
 smoke it in the slow, luxurious Spanish fashion. 
 " I do not pose as a great lady," she proceeded. 
 " I love to think of what I came from. In fact, if 
 I had never been poor I could not get half the 
 comfort out of my money I do now. I could not 
 properly enjoy such a dinner as this we have just 
 eaten if I did not remember the buckwheat cakes 
 and saleratus biscuits of my infancy." 
 
 Hartley was ready to humor her mood for remi 
 niscence. " I wish you would tell me about your 
 self," he said. " All that you have been a part of 
 interests me." 
 
 She took her cigarette from her lips and bent a 
 deep look on him. 
 
 " You must not be too fastidious, then," she said. 
 44 Remember that I grew up in a country where 
 everything was in a condition of chaos, every 
 thing was forming before our eyes, nothing came 
 ready-made." 
 
 44 1 understand all that." 
 
 She sat leaning forward, not touching the high 
 back of the embossed red-velvet-covered chair, rest- 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 181 
 
 ing her plump left elbow on the table, and now and 
 then bringing the cigarette to her lips. At her 
 right was a small glass of liqueur which she occa 
 sionally sipped, meantime nibbling at the bonbons. 
 
 " My name as a girl was Bella Brown," she said. 
 " I like to be called Bella. I hate my married title." 
 
 Hartley, inclined to act up to his role with spirit, 
 repeated the name she liked under his breath, but 
 with such unmistakable fervor that Miss Shepard 
 blushed angrily and turned away, making a pre 
 tense of busying herself with the crimson shade of 
 one of the candles. 
 
 "Yes, call me Bella," said Mrs. Hernandez, 
 laughing. " I am Bella Brown first and always. 
 Some of Eugenia s friends advocate a woman s 
 retaining her maiden name after marriage, and I 
 go with such views heartily. Marriage does not 
 change a woman s identity any more than it 
 changes a man s. When I wake up in the morn 
 ing and look about my room, I often say to myself 
 This is I, Isabella Brown! My father," she 
 went on, " was Timothy Brown of Castine, Maine. 
 He went West a little too late for the height of 
 the gold fever. He married in California." She 
 paused a moment, then proceeded. " My mother 
 was half Mexican." 
 
 " Ah, that is it," said Hartley. " I never 
 thought of it before, but I perceive now that there 
 is something foreign in your look and manner." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " I am not very 
 
182 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 proud of my Mexican blood," she exclaimed. " I pre 
 fer to remember that my father was a well educated 
 New England man. He was unlucky, but he was 
 the best thing that ever happened to me. If he 
 were only alive now I might make up to him for 
 his hard lines. He was so poor, always so poor ! 
 while the man beside him picked up nuggets of 
 gold, his gravel panned out a dollar to the ton. 
 You see I know what poverty is, Mr. Hartley. I 
 have been through every phase of it; I under 
 stand, too, what is behind it, a shirking of respon 
 sibility, a lack of quick decision, the unwillingness 
 to look at things fairly and squarely, putting off, 
 instead of feeling every time the sun comes up, 
 4 This is the Day of Judgment. Still I loved my 
 father and was proud of his having had a college 
 education. I am thankful to him for making me 
 speak good English, and I forgive him for dragging 
 us through the mire as he did. The first comfort 
 I can recall came when I was eighteen years old. 
 He ran a boarding-house at Whitehouse Creek, 
 close by the new silver diggings. It was a sensible 
 enterprise and fairly successful. I used to wait at 
 table. Should you have believed it ? " 
 
 "You are a part of all that you have met," 
 quoted Hartley, "and that is what it is to live. 
 I myself seem in comparison to have been a dreary, 
 bored observer." 
 
 " If you could have seen the meals we used to set 
 out ! If you could have seen the men who took 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 183 
 
 their places at table ! If you could have heard 
 them talk, in good humor, in bad humor ! If you 
 could have seen, as I did, more than once, the meal 
 end in a free fight, and two men carried out dead, 
 you might call it something beyond a mere cut- 
 and-dried existence. However, I was used to it; 
 I was full of spirit and energy ; I was proud of being 
 the quickest and lightest of foot of all the ten 
 girls." 
 
 "I am perfectly certain," said Hartley, "that 
 every man at table wanted you to wait on him." 
 
 "You bet." 
 
 As this phrase issued from the full rosy lips, Miss 
 Shepard, who had for the last half hour been 
 wrought up to a state of nervous exasperation 
 gave utterance to some inaudible expression, started 
 to her feet, and walked into the next room. Bella 
 gazed after her, changed color, and, coming back to 
 a sense of the conventionalities she had offended, 
 threw away her cigarette and pushed aside the 
 glass of Chartreuse. 
 
 " You led me on," she said to Hartley with the 
 droll grimace of a naughty child about to be pun 
 ished for a fault. " Now I shall have to go down 
 on my knees to Eugenia." 
 
 " Was it the slang which horrified her, or the bit 
 of autobiography ? " 
 
 " She had been sitting on thorns for some time," 
 said Bella. " I saw she disapproved of me, but I 
 felt like going on. I told you she was my con- 
 
184 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE, 
 
 science -keeper," said Bella, jumping up. "Now 
 you must come and help me make it up with her." 
 
 She led the way into the parlor, where Miss 
 Shepard was sitting at a table, pretending to be 
 looking over a book of etchings. 
 
 " Here we are, Eugenia," said Bella, in the tone 
 of a coaxing child. " Please forgive everything, 
 and be friends." 
 
 But Miss Shepard did not move or look up as 
 Bella, approaching behind her, shook her playfully 
 by the shoulders. 
 
 " I think you are a highly inconsistent woman," 
 she went on lightly. " You are all for freedom, 
 for emancipation, for suffrage, for every possible 
 right of woman. You insist that we are not to be 
 tied down to tradition, that each of us is to find 
 within us the law which ought to govern us ; yet the 
 moment I jar upon your superfine sensibilities you 
 are horrified." 
 
 Miss Shepard pushed her book away, but sat 
 with a furrow between her brows, gazing fixedly 
 before her. 
 
 " You used to call me the apostle of your theo 
 ries," Bella continued playfully. 
 
 " But what an apostle ! An apostle to what a 
 gospel!" 
 
 She broke off as Bella burst into a fit of 
 laughter. 
 
 " Tell me, Mr. Hartley," she cried, full of mis 
 chief, "am I not a delightful instance of the eman 
 cipated female ? " 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 185 
 
 " If you treat my creeds lightly," said Miss Shep- 
 ard in a strained, discordant voice, " you put me in 
 the wrong. * 
 
 " Oh no, I do not mean to put you in the wrong. 
 I put nobody in the wrong except myself. Don t 
 judge Eugenia by me, Mr. Hartley. She has lofty 
 standards, high principles. She fasts while I feast. 
 She does not drink champagne ; she declares it goes 
 to her head. I say that is where I want it to go ; 
 what is life without a little intoxication ? When I 
 try to induce her to put on a becoming gown she 
 says stoically, I prefer to be as ugly as nature 
 made me. How can I live up to an example of 
 such high courage ? " 
 
 " You make me out a very absurd person," 
 said Eugenia. 
 
 " On the contrary, you are such a consistent 
 person I have to strike a balance by being incon 
 sistent. Then you know very well it is not in my 
 nature to pretend, and when I am in good spirits 
 I bubble over. Come now, kiss and be friends." 
 
 She suited the action to the words ; and Eugenia 
 yielded with rather an ill grace. " I was wrong," 
 she said reluctantly. " I am a very bad-tempered 
 person, I suppose. But after all, if you hire a 
 music master to teach you the piano and he raps 
 you on the fingers if you play false you do not say 
 to him, You are very particular. 
 
 " No, I deserved the rebuke," said Bella demurely. 
 u I ask you to forgive, I ask everybody to for- 
 
186 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 give me." She flung herself against the pile of 
 cushions on the sofa. " It is the wild Mexican 
 blood in my veins, I suppose," she continued. 
 " Sometimes I hate it. Then again I would not 
 have it left out of my composition for the sake of 
 being mistress of all the cold proprieties of the 
 world." 
 
 She glanced at Hartley, who stood looking on, 
 a little at a loss to know what to say or to do. What 
 he experienced was a sense of being led a strange 
 dance into a new region where familiar lights failed 
 him and there was a jumble of the attractive and 
 the bizarre. He tried to rally his powers to answer 
 the necessities of the occasion. 
 
 " Spanish and Puritan meet in you," he said ; 
 " and it is always the marriage of contraries which 
 gives temperament." 
 
 " The Mexican in me enjoys color and warmth," 
 said Bella unreservedly. " It likes getting its 
 sensations cheap. If I were Mexican only I might 
 have been a circus girl ; for when I was ten years 
 old I could ride a half-broken mustang that every 
 body else was afraid of. But the Puritan is 
 strong in me, it will come in." 
 
 " I rejoice to hear it," said Eugenia. 
 
 " Poor Eugenia," said Bella ; " she never, in her 
 life acted on an impulse, she knows nothing but 
 cold-blooded reason. Now to-night, the Mexican 
 gets the better of the Puritan in me. I am still 
 run away with by high spirits. At this moment I 
 long to dance." 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 187 
 
 " Do dance," said Hartley. He kept his gaze 
 fixed upon her with a sort of fascinated expecta 
 tion. Her eyes emitted light. She seemed to feel 
 such a superabundance of life that she threw it 
 off in an electrical current which influenced him to 
 a degree. Her feet began to move as to imaginary 
 music. 
 
 " Eugenia, dear, good Eugenia, may I dance ? " 
 she entreated coaxingly. 
 
 " Oh dance, dance, dance all you like," said 
 Eugenia, half in anger and half in scorn. " It is 
 not a dancing world to me, but if it is to you, 
 act out your humor." At this permission, Bella 
 started up joyfully and darted like a flash out of 
 the room. Hartley, gazing after her in blank amaze 
 ment, turned inquiringly towards Miss Shepard, 
 who, with a little gesture as if deprecating his 
 judgment, said, " She has gone to change her gown. 
 She is in a wild mood to-night which she has to 
 work off somehow, and she may as well dance. I 
 sometimes suspect that her mother was half Indian, 
 besides being half Mexican. She is incorrigible. I 
 can perceive that you are shocked in every instinct. 
 It is not worth while. I teach myself to be patient. 
 If I permitted her vagaries to afflict me beyond 
 the moment, I should not live here another day." 
 
 " I am not shocked," said Hartley. " I am 
 rather amused. She has a refreshing touch of 
 wildness in her nature." 
 
 "You can be lenient, because you have no 
 
188 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 sense of responsibility. But it puts me in the 
 wrong. It puts me terribly in the wrong." As 
 she said this he advanced a step nearer, looking at 
 her so eagerly that, as if fearful he might magnify 
 her meaning, she hastened to add : " Not that 
 there is anything worse than this frivolity which 
 she will repent to-morrow. She is simply run 
 away with by her vanity and a sort of theatrical- 
 ity." 
 
 " You and she are very unlike," observed Hartley. 
 
 " Unlike ! " repeated Miss Shepard with peculiar 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Still, in spite of the unlikeness you find some 
 thing in her to awaken interest and regard." 
 
 " She pays me," said Miss Shepard, as if the 
 words stung her. " I needed money, not for my 
 self but for my sister, who has five children and 
 whose husband deserted her. Mrs. Hernandez 
 advertised in San Francisco for a companion. I 
 answered and we struck a bargain. She gives me a 
 good salary. I am to chaperone her, as she calls 
 it, and to the extent of my influence do all I can 
 in her behalf. She lent me, to begin with, a hand 
 some sum of money. I accepted the position out 
 of pure greed." 
 
 " Don t lower your own motives. Evidently 
 you were already embarked in a career ; yon seem 
 to be a well-known woman. I see your name in 
 the papers." 
 
 " I had no power ; I was tied hand and foot by 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 189 
 
 lack of money ; I was in debt. Still, my reputa 
 tion lias been of use to her, and I may as well 
 confess that, to begin with, at any rate, I flattered 
 my scruples by imposing upon myself and others 
 the belief that she was a shining instance of the 
 modern woman." 
 
 " Are you disappointed ? " 
 
 " Disappointed ? Can I uphold a woman who 
 sees immunities where I see duties ? If I have 
 preached the necessity of throwing aside certain 
 obligations she does not feel binding and sacred, 
 it is that she should take up obligations she does 
 make binding and sacred." 
 
 Hartley gazed at her intently; her words 
 roused a powerful curiosity. 
 
 " She makes me hate my own views," said 
 Eugenia almost fiercely, although she spoke just 
 above her breath. " She makes me doubt, indeed, 
 whether I have any views which can stand the test 
 of the wear and tear of everyday life." 
 
 " Views are a terrible encumbrance," said Hart 
 ley. He still gazed at her as if fascinated.. He 
 longed yet dreaded to end this uncertainty. 
 Eugenia was the one person who could answer the 
 question which lurked behind the simplest sugges 
 tions, and which put an interrogation point after 
 each of Mrs. Hernandez s indiscretions. 
 
 "You rouse more curiosity than you gratify," 
 he said. 
 
 " I don t quite understand you " 
 
190 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " Can t you see that there seems to be a sort of 
 mystery, that " 
 
 She made an angry gesture. " Rest assured," 
 she said harshly, "that if there were anything 
 actually wrong I should not be here. This is her 
 story. She married a certain rather notorious 
 Colonel Higby, from whom she was divorced. I 
 fancy she had believed him to be rich, but he 
 turned out to be a poor man. It was a terrible 
 experience. She has told me things about her life 
 with him which made it justifiable for her to try 
 to regain her freedom. Then she became the wife 
 of Aurelio Hernandez. As long as he lived she 
 was under the yoke. But the bondage only lasted 
 three years ; then he died suddenly and she came 
 into his possessions. If she boasts of her money 
 vulgarly it is because she is still in the wildest 
 spirits on finding herself free and rich beyond all 
 her dreams. She can conceal nothing, with her 
 everything is on the surface." 
 
 " So that is her history," said Hartley with an 
 intense relief, and dismissing he knew not what 
 swarming vague apprehensions from his mind. 
 
 44 That is her history. She is not a woman who 
 analyzes her experience and acts intelligently and 
 logically upon the knowledge of life she has 
 gained. Still, she does usually realize, quite as 
 much as I, that when a woman sacrifices a great 
 many things which most of her sex regard as 
 essential, she must be earnest, consistent, and 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 191 
 
 sincere. But sometimes she gets excited and is 
 carried away." 
 
 "Here I am," said a voice in the distance. 
 " Was I gone a long time ? " 
 
 Hartley had retreated to a safe distance from 
 Eugenia by the time Bella lifted the portiere and 
 stood framed there like a picture. She had thrown 
 off her trailing evening gown and put on a short 
 one of diaphanous black, spangled with gold, the 
 skirt composed of fine quillings and plaitings which 
 clung to her shape, yet were capable of expanding 
 to yards on yards of circumference. She still 
 wore the gold ornaments on her neck and wrists, 
 and in her hands carried a mantilla of lace. 
 
 "Now, Eugenia," she said, coming towards 
 them, " go to the piano and play a waltz, not too 
 fast at first." 
 
 Eugenia, with her slow, reluctant way of seem 
 ing to do against her taste and judgment what she 
 was coerced to do, obeyed. 
 
 " How is this ? " she inquired, beginning an 
 adaptation of a Spanish air. 
 
 "A little too fast," said Bella. She made a 
 slight courtesy to Hartley, then, negligent, smiling, 
 swaying first one way and then the other, began 
 gracefully to advance and recede, holding the man 
 tilla before her and waving it. 
 
 "Charming!" said Hartley, and clapped his 
 hands. 
 
 The applause excited her. " Faster ! " she cried 
 
192 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 to Eugenia ; threw aside the mantilla, and, gather 
 ing into her hands instead a fold of her airy and 
 glittering draperies, she made them, undulate with 
 the rhythm of the music. As she moved, she kept 
 her brilliant gaze fixed upon Hartley, compelling 
 him to feel the fire of her eyes, and at the same 
 time communicating to him in some subtle way an 
 uneasy sense of restlessness as her fluttering, spar 
 kling raiment vibrated continuously to the modula 
 tions of the waltz, throwing out its fiery spangles 
 like a swarm of golden bees. 
 
 " Faster ! " she cried again ; and with the accel 
 erated pace, the gauzy skirts seemed to become wings 
 which emitted flashes like the darting of fireflies 
 out of the blackness of a tropical night. The 
 cheeks of the dancer flushed a deeper crimson ; her 
 dark eyes grew brighter and brighter; her lips 
 more and more smiling. She was almost alarm 
 ing. 
 
 Eugenia brought her fingers down on the piano 
 with a crash. 
 
 " That is enough," she said, shut the instrument, 
 and rose. 
 
 Hartley, whose impression was quite as much of 
 repugnance as of allurement, was ready to echo 
 her words. 
 
 "Did you like it?" demanded Bella, radiant. 
 
 " I might use twenty adjectives," said Hartley, 
 " but will content myself with one. It was charm- 
 ing." 
 
BELLA AND EUGENIA. 193 
 
 She took her favorite attitude on the sofa, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 " From a child, I always loved to dance," she 
 said. " It was the first, about the only thing, my 
 mother taught me. My father considered it wicked ; 
 he believed all such amusements to come straight 
 from the Prince of Darkness. Astonishing, how 
 ideas implanted in our infancy cling ! It is when 
 I feel restless, experimental, rather wicked, that I 
 want to dance. Don t frown, Eugenia; I have 
 worked it off ; I m as good as gold." She beck 
 oned to Hartley to draw a chair by her side. 
 " Now, the rest of the evening, you shall entertain 
 me," she said. 
 
 And he obeyed, to the extent of his ability. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND. 
 
 AFTER Garthe had left her that evening, Con 
 stance continued to stand just where she had taken 
 leave of him. She was pale, perturbed, dissatisfied 
 with herself ; once she pressed the palms of her 
 hands against her temples, as if to still some throb 
 bing there ; then the blood rushed to her face, and 
 she smiled as if moved by some sudden hint of 
 happy recollection. 
 
 Kathleen presently entered, radiant. 
 
 " How is the cold ? " she asked. " I did not ex 
 pect to find you waiting up for me." 
 
 "The cold?" repeated Constance, forgetting. 
 Then a deep glow overspread her face. "It is 
 better," she made haste to say. " In fact, I think 
 it is quite cured." 
 
 " That comes of staying in and nursing it," said 
 Kathleen. " Still, you missed a good deal." She 
 sat down before the fire, dropped her wraps from 
 her shoulders, and went on talking with animation 
 about the opera, the singers, the women who had 
 been in the boxes, the men who had dropped in to 
 see her and Mrs. Challoner. Mr. Marchmont had 
 sat behind her all the evening. Never had she 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND. 195 
 
 known him in such a delightful humor ; he seemed 
 to have come to charm and to be charmed. 
 
 " Sometimes, of late," Kathleen proceeded, " he 
 has been a little tormenting. He has seemed to 
 laugh at me, to find me infantile ; he has talked as 
 if he had given up, in disgust, everything I cared 
 about ; has discussed the question of whether there 
 ought not to be an asylum and a pension for old 
 men past fifty years of age, in order that they 
 might not be in the way of young people ; he has 
 quoted all the poetry he knew about old age ; oh, 
 he has made me unhappy ! But to-night, one would 
 have said that the longer a man lived the better 
 he knew how to be amusing. The young men 
 seemed so stiff and heavy, or silly, in comparison. 
 I listened to nobody else. I cared for nobody else." 
 
 It startled Constance to have Kathleen appear 
 thus to confirm all Garthe s predictions. It was 
 not only a relief to believe that Kathy and Mr. 
 Marchmont were a little in love with each other, 
 but that Garthe was right, that he was gifted 
 with knowledge and insight. His clear divination 
 of the state of the case seemed to justify her 
 when she found that his voice lingered in her ear, 
 that she was still under the thrill of his touch, of 
 his vivid glance. Not that she yielded, even in 
 imagination, to the spell they could cast over her. 
 " No, no, no," she said to herself, just as she had 
 said it to him. Still, before she could compose 
 herself to sleep, it was necessary to go over and 
 
196 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 over again the details of that strange and unex 
 pected interview ; strange and unexpected, yet she 
 realized that somehow the germ of feeling for 
 him must have been in her mind already. No 
 sooner had she looked up, that evening, and seen 
 him advancing towards her, than her very soul had 
 stirred like a flame quickened by a wind. 
 
 From the moment they had met, she had been 
 conscious that in some subtle way an intimacy of 
 feeling had been established between them. She 
 had explained it to herself by saying that she had 
 divined in him just those qualities of heart and 
 head which were to move Kathy. He talked little, 
 but, when he did talk, with a few well-directed 
 touches he made his point and created the effect 
 he needed to produce. Clever or not clever, he 
 seemed to Constance a strong man, and she was 
 ready to accept the ascendency he at once estab 
 lished over her, because it was to include Kathy as 
 well. She had vindicated the charm she found in 
 his society by talking to him constantly of Kathy, 
 by withdrawing her own personality, by saying 
 " we," not " I," by showing him frankly that she 
 considered it a happy accident when she saw him 
 sitting with Kathy, talking, listening, comparing 
 notes, in the easy, intimate fashion of people who 
 have much in common. She had filled up any 
 personal sense of loss and blankness by her satis 
 faction in the thought that she was scrupulously 
 faithful to her trust, that Kathy was to be 
 happy. 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND. 197 
 
 But to-night when he had stood smiling down at 
 her, complaining that he found her changed, such 
 little artifices had shriveled up before his practical 
 decision and swift insight. The significance of his 
 words dawned gradually upon her mind. She had 
 been used to believing that many things were out of 
 the question for herself ; she had never been so cov 
 etous as to wish for them, had been contented 
 with desiring them for Kathy. She had, altogether, 
 to change the focus of things in general, before she 
 could rightly apprehend the facts of the case as 
 Garthe saw them. What was needed was a con 
 stant readjustment of the arguments to a practical 
 point of view. Garthe, who certainly was a man 
 of more defined and resolute will than most people 
 she had known, was not in love with Kathy, nor, 
 according to his view, was Kathy in love with him. 
 By what right or with what reason could she then go 
 on picturing the delightful result of their mutual 
 attraction ? She felt humbly that she had, so far, 
 apprehended her duties quite falsely, starting from 
 no fixed high principle and following up the lead 
 to no worthy conclusion. She desired Kathy s 
 happiness, but had blindly set to work to make 
 her miserable. If Kathy had fallen in love with 
 Garthe in the face of his indifference, or rather 
 of his clear preference for somebody else, what 
 general misery ! Constance liked best that night 
 to accept, although with some soreness of feeling, 
 his theory that Kathy and Mr. Marclimont were 
 
198 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTUE. 
 
 attached to each other. Many little incidents now 
 seemed to give weight to it, to brush aside like cob 
 webs all that impeded her belief in it. So much 
 for conscience before she let her fancy get the 
 upper hand ; before she permitted herself to remem 
 ber how, even before Garthe spoke, she met his eyes 
 and recognized the approach of a supreme moment ; 
 how a constraint was upon her which made her feel 
 with mingled joy and terror that she must meet it. 
 How all this had come to pass she could not tell, 
 and searched in vain for a clew to the mystery. 
 Only one thing was clear to her, that Garthe 
 loved her, not another; not Kathy, but herself; 
 and without to-night trying to analyze the thrill 
 of joy which came along with her perception of the 
 fact, she asked herself whether she could have 
 yielded even to Kathy that joy immeasurable of 
 knowing herself beloved? There was a secret in 
 toxication in the conviction that she could no more 
 yield up Garthe s love than she could govern the 
 stars in their courses ; so for that night she taught 
 herself to be absolutely selfish. 
 
 Next day she was brought to earth by her own 
 arrow. 
 
 Kathy, blithe and light-hearted, had gone out 
 after breakfast, but returned before noon flushed, 
 flurried, with a brow showing painful perplexity. 
 
 " Oh, Constance," she wailed, flying up the stair 
 case. " Oh, Constance ! " 
 
 Constance, answering the call, ran towards her t 
 and the two encountered on the landing. 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HEB MIND. 199 
 
 "Oh, what is it?" cried the girl, opening her 
 arms. 
 
 Kathy rushed into them and nestled there. 
 
 " Oh, such a dreadful thing has happened ; such 
 a monstrous, incredible thing I hardly dare tell 
 you," she gasped. 
 
 Constance, full of terror, drew her into the sunny 
 morning-room, and closed the door. 
 
 " But you must tell me. What is it ? " she said, 
 gazing into the face before her, alternately flushing 
 and paling. 
 
 "I can t," returned Kathy with an air of des 
 peration. 
 
 She permitted herself to be established on the 
 lounge, to have cushions piled behind her, to have 
 her bonnet, wrap, and gloves taken off, and salts 
 offered. Then she burst into tears. 
 
 "You make me so anxious," murmured Con 
 stance. 
 
 " I know," said Kathy. She tried to speak ; she 
 could not utter more than these two syllables. 
 She blushed, tried to hide her face against the 
 girl s shoulder and began again ; then, frightened, 
 suddenly checked herself. It was now easy to sob, 
 and she sobbed like a heart-broken child. 
 
 " But, Kathy," cried Constance, " I cannot en 
 dure such suspense." 
 
 " I am afraid if I tell you what happened that 
 you will never speak to me again," faltered Kathy. 
 
 Constance s thoughts instantly reverted to Garthe. 
 She grew pale. 
 
200 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " Nothing could make any difference with me," 
 she said with desperate resolution. 
 
 " Are you sure ? " 
 
 " Perfectly sure. I could love you through any- 
 thing." 
 
 " I ve I ve I ve been in sul 
 ted," whispered Kathy. 
 
 " Insulted ? By whom ? " cried Constance, all 
 the blood rushing to her heart. 
 
 " I don t know who he is. Of course he is a 
 perfect stranger tome. That was the horror of it." 
 
 " But what did he do ? " 
 
 "He pursued me," said Kathy tragically. 
 
 " Pursued you ? " 
 
 "I mean he followed me." 
 
 " Followed you home ? " 
 
 " I don t know," said Kathy with a gesture of 
 despair. " I did not look back. I simply turned 
 and fled." She drew Constance down on the 
 couch beside her, and they embraced, each with a 
 tremulous sensitiveness. " Oh," she went on, " I 
 never had such a horrible experience. It changed 
 all my ideas in a moment. It made me feel, as 
 nothing else could, dear, that you are right." 
 
 " I don t quite understand," said Constance with 
 indefinable mistrust. " How do you mean that I 
 am right ? " 
 
 " In thinking that I ought to marry again, to 
 marry Mr. Garthe," whispered Kathy, her cheek 
 against the girl s, her whole fragile being thrilling 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND. 201 
 
 and palpitating with an ardent vitality like a bird s. 
 Still tenderly conscious although Constance was 
 of that highly wrought mood, at this confession she 
 started away, stood at a little distance, and made an 
 effort to collect her thoughts. But her brain reeled 
 as she tried her wits at the riddle. It was impossi 
 ble to think acutely. 
 
 " But tell me, please tell me, what happened ? " 
 she implored. 
 
 " You will say it was all my fault," murmured 
 Kathy, her face scarlet. " That is the reason I am 
 so ready to give up my independence. I want to 
 be taken care of by somebody who is wise and calm ; 
 it would be such a relief to have a man like Mr. 
 Gar the always at my side. I feel just as you do, 
 there is something about him so different from most 
 men," she went on, in a soft justification of her 
 self. " He says to me Sit here, and I sit down so 
 meekly. He told me that he felt as if everybody 
 ought to read that book on Socialism, and I have 
 gone through it, taking twenty pages a day, al 
 though it does not interest me at all." She paused 
 a moment and looked at Constance with her lim 
 pid glance. "Then you wish it, darling," she 
 added conclusively and finally. " I have come to 
 think that marrying him would be the best thing 
 that could happen to me. I intend no longer to 
 struggle against the feeling." 
 
 Constance had sunk down on the window seat at 
 a little distance. It seemed to her the room was 
 
202 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 turning round. It was their favorite nest, fresh, 
 coquettish, elegant, hung in pale blue, with rows of 
 white jars at the windows full of flowering plants ; 
 a large picture of Bernard Garner filled the space 
 over the mantel, innumerable sketches in pen-and- 
 ink and water-colors signed by their friends were 
 grouped on the walls, and everywhere, on tables and 
 cabinets, were a hundred pretty feminine knick- 
 knacks. The place was full of soft light and cheer 
 ful heat, but what Constance experienced was a 
 strange bleakness, a desert loneliness. 
 
 "You don t say anything?" cried Kathy with 
 a pathetic accent. 
 
 " It is all so incomprehensible to me," said Con 
 stance. " Some dreadful thing happened, you say, 
 which changed all your opinions in an instant ; yet 
 you do not tell what it was." 
 
 " How can you bring it all back ? I wish you 
 would let me forget it. It robs me of all my self- 
 respect. I want to look forward to something com 
 fortable instead." 
 
 " But I must understand. I cannot go on with 
 this horrible feeling that something painful has 
 happened to you. The earth seems to shake under 
 my feet." 
 
 " But, Constance, it is over now, and I wish never 
 to think of it again. And really I cannot help 
 feeling," pursued Kathy sentimentally, " as if there 
 were something almost providential in it. It has 
 made me feel my loneliness ; I never before quite 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HEE MIND. 203 
 
 realized it. I see now that I was never meant to 
 go about in this irresponsible, unrestrained way. I 
 need somebody to give me a law and to make me 
 obey that law." 
 
 " But first, dear Kathy, let me know what " 
 " If / can bear it," said Kathy with some state- 
 liness, " if I can afford to forget and forgive it, I 
 do really consider that other people might do the 
 same. I wish you would talk about something 
 pleasanter, Constance. Talk about the future. It 
 is so odd and unexpected," she continued, blushing 
 as her eager glance rose to the other s face, " that 
 I should have been so instantly converted to your 
 theories. Now when you first spoke about Mr. 
 Garthe I was not in love with him at all. I en 
 joyed my own liberty. Although I rather liked to 
 think about the idea, look at it in different lights, 
 go forward and back, I really did not wish to marry 
 anybody. My conception of happiness was to live 
 with you always. It is so sweet here with you, 
 dear. I think I vastly prefer women to men. Of 
 course men may be useful. I like them to come in 
 and see me. They amuse me, they get facts at 
 first hand and tell one things, and they are inter 
 esting to tell things to. I was perfectly satisfied 
 to go on as we were going. I never should have 
 tired of it. But, Constance, I see now, it was n t 
 safe." 
 
 Kathy, absorbed in her own impressions, did 
 not perceive that Constance was strangely excited. 
 
204 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 There were tears in her eyes, her color came and 
 went, her hands trembled. 
 
 " Kathy," she said forcibly, " I insist that you 
 shall tell me what happened." 
 
 " I was going on to say," Kathy proceeded, gather 
 ing solemnity into voice and manner, " that I have 
 utterly changed my mind. Some women may be 
 able to get along unmarried, but I have no belief 
 in myself any longer. I need a husband to look 
 after me." She looked at Constance, counting on 
 her sympathy, but to her surprise the girl, with over 
 flowing tears, suddenly smote her temples with her 
 hands, crossed the room, and stood looking out of 
 the window. 
 
 " I thought," said Kathy, rather aggrieved, " that 
 you at least would be pleased. You said you ap 
 proved of my marrying again, and you quite in 
 sisted that I should fall in love with Mr. Garthe." 
 
 " I am thinking of what happened this morning," 
 said Constance, without turning away from the win 
 dow. " I can have no peace of mind until I know." 
 
 " I wish you would let it rest," returned Kathy 
 with a deep sigh, clasping and unclasping her hands 
 nervously. 
 
 " Tell me, Kathy dear," said Constance, darting 
 back to the sofa, sitting down beside her step 
 mother and putting her arms about her. "You 
 know so well that whatever you suffer I suffer, 
 whatever you feel I feel, whatever happens to 
 you happens to me. If anything vexes and mortifies 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND. 205 
 
 you I cannot live until I do my best to overcome it. 
 Kathy, darling Kathy, tell me." 
 
 " You will say it is all my fault," faltered Kathy. 
 
 " But if it is your fault " 
 
 " I don t like to be told over and over," said 
 Kathy, rebellious tears gathering in her lovely blue 
 eyes, " that I do not seem to have any sense of pro 
 priety. I know I keep doing something odd, but 
 such odd things seem to happen to me. I have 
 tried to school myself into good manners, I try to 
 be rather superior, but all the same, I " she 
 broke off with a sob. 
 
 " You have charming manners," said Constance 
 warmly. " Your mistakes are more refreshing than 
 other people s perfections." 
 
 " Still, you admit that I always do make mis 
 takes," Kathy went on. " You said the other night 
 that with me something unexpected always hap 
 pened. You know it was at that dinner at the 
 Frosts , and in front of me was a tall pyramid of 
 fruit. I kept saying all the time how delightful it 
 was ; it was like a screen and hid me from every 
 body, and Teddy Winslow and I pretended to 
 have great goings on behind it. Then all at once, as 
 he was skirmishing after my glass of champagne, I 
 happened to touch an orange, and the whole edifice 
 toppled over and the fruit went careering madly 
 down the table. Of course everybody stared at us 
 and made jokes. I dared not raise my eyes again 
 all through the dinner." 
 
20G THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 This was such sheer swerving away from the 
 subject in hand that Constance would not conde 
 scend to make any response to it. 
 
 "Tell me what happened, Kathy dear," she 
 said again, and as she spoke put her hand against 
 the soft cheek and brought the face close to hers. 
 In this position they surveyed each other, each 
 with moist eyes, quivering lips, and crimson cheeks. 
 
 " I don t want to tell," said Kathy nervously. 
 
 " But you will tell me, dear. Where were you 
 when it happened ? " 
 
 " At the library," faltered Kathy. " You know 
 that you yourself asked me to go there and change 
 a book." 
 
 "I know. Well?" 
 
 " As I went up the stairs it seemed to me I 
 caught sight of Mr. Marchmont going into the 
 reading-room. I said to myself, If that is Mr. 
 Marchmont and he could get a book for me and go 
 shopping with me and then to Mrs. Challoner s, 
 and then come back with me to lunch, it would be 
 charming. 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " You know I really thought it was Mr. March 
 mont," said Kathy piteously. "There was the 
 same hat, the same greatcoat, the same gray trou 
 sers. It djd seem a little singular that he did not 
 see me, for usually he catches sight of me at any 
 distance. But all the same I was as certain that it 
 was Mr. Marchmont as that this is you, Constance. 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND. 207 
 
 The question was how to get at him in the men s 
 reading-room. Of course I did not think of open 
 ing the door and looking in, I was perfectly well 
 aware that that would never have done ; but there 
 was a little crack over the hinge, and I peeped. I 
 suppose I saw what I wanted to see, for I was posi 
 tive I recognized Mr. Marchmont and nobody else 
 sitting at a table, just at the left of the entrance. 
 There was Mr. Marchmont s hat, Mr. Marchmont s 
 back hair, Mr. Marchmont s muffler, greatcoat, 
 and tweed trousers. It seemed so pleasant to see 
 him I kept staring in as if fascinated, until a libra 
 rian, or a messenger boy, somebody who belonged 
 to the institution, came out of the opposite door 
 and looked at me as if quite shocked. Did you 
 want anything in the men s reading-room ? he 
 asked, as if he supposed I was looking in just out 
 of feminine curiosity. So, to justify myself, I told 
 him that I saw a very particular friend of mine in 
 side, and wished to speak to him. He had lately 
 entered, he sat at the left hand of the door, had 
 a white silk muffler, black felt hat, and Shall 
 I tell him there is a lady in the passage waiting 
 to speak to him ? asked the creature. Yes ! I 
 answered : ask him to come out at once. >! She 
 paused ; she cowered ; then, as if gathering herself 
 up by a supreme effort, she cried out piteously, 
 " Oh, Constance ! " 
 
 " Go on," said Constance, inflexibly prepared to 
 meet the worst. 
 
208 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " Oh, how can I go on ? " moaned Kathy. 
 
 " Did the man go after Mr. Marchmont ? " 
 
 " He grinned, he grinned hideously ; he set off 
 at a run ; he gave the baize doors a push, darted 
 inside, and left me waiting. It was all very dis 
 agreeable. I felt like like Andromeda, but I 
 expected Mr. Marchmont to come and deliver me. 
 I stood looking at the doors, expecting shortly to 
 see them swing wide open. Then all at once " 
 
 " They opened and " 
 
 " Don t interrupt me," said Kathy in desperation. 
 " They did open, surely enough ! A man s figure 
 appeared, the figure of a youngish man, rather, 
 in an odious way, a good-looking man ! He smiled, 
 came straight towards me. I stood rooted to the 
 spot. I seemed to have grown there. Something 
 held my eyes staring wide open at him, as if he had 
 been a supernatural apparition. My throat ached, 
 my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. 
 He came nearer and nearer. Is this the lady 
 who is waiting to speak to me ? he asked in a soft, 
 insinuating way. I tried to speak, to tell him I 
 had quite mistaken him, that it was somebody quite 
 different I had hoped might have on that hat, coat, 
 and muffler. But I could not utter a syllable ; I 
 simply felt myself growing furiously red. 4 1 shall 
 be so glad to do anything for you, the horrible 
 wretch continued, and tried to take my hand. It 
 was as if his touch were needed to set me free. I 
 moved, I turned, I darted down the stairs. He 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES -UP HER MIND. 209 
 
 was following me. The heavy door stopped me. 
 As I was fumbling at the handle, he had time to ap 
 proach. 4 Allow me, he said, and held it open with 
 the most overwhelming politeness. I rushed past 
 him without a look or word ; at the corner I turned, 
 I saw him coming ; I ran up the street, rounded a 
 second corner ! He was still on my steps." 
 
 "Did he overtake you?" Constance inquired 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I did not see him any more. When I mounted 
 our own door-steps, I looked round fearfully, but 
 there was nobody in the street." 
 
 She paused, exhausted, and, too much abashed to 
 raise her eyes, kept them fixed on her lap. 
 
 " And that was all ? " inquired Constance, with 
 a feeling of relief. 
 
 " All ? " repeated Kathy tragically. " I thought 
 it was quite enough." 
 
 " It was uncomfortable, certainly," said Con 
 stance soothingly. "But if I were you I should 
 not think of it again." 
 
 " I did not wish to recall it," cried Kathy, with 
 great tears gathering in her eyes afresh. " I 
 begged you over and over to let it all pass, but you 
 would insist ; and now that I have brought myself 
 to confess it, you have an air of not minding. I 
 supposed that even if you told me I had brought it 
 all on myself you still would sympathize with me." 
 
 " I am indignant with the man ; I do sympathize 
 with you," said Constance, endeavoring to animate 
 
210 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 her features with pity and with wrath. " I blame 
 myself for letting you go out alone. You are too 
 
 too pretty, Kathy ; too too attractive ; too 
 too young 
 
 " Yes," faltered Kathy. " I see it all, and I shall 
 have to marry Mr. Garthe in self-defense." She 
 glanced timidly at Constance, who grew pale and 
 averted her face ; then with a sense of being left un 
 aided to fight her battle, Kathy exclaimed, with a 
 note of protest, almost of indignation in her voice, 
 " You know very well it was you who put the idea 
 into my head. You said you wanted me to marry, 
 and the moment Mr. Garthe began coming you 
 showed me in every way that in fact you seemed 
 quite to insist on it." 
 
 Her words penetrated Constance, rousing her 
 conscience. It was all true. 
 
 " You don t usually go forward and back," mur 
 mured Kathy. She did not possess the faculty of 
 reading what went on inside of other minds, yet 
 she had a quick instinct to perceive something alien, 
 something inhospitable in Constance to this sugges 
 tion. 
 
 " If I do want you to marry again," said Con 
 stance wistfully, " it is only because we are not rich, 
 
 because " she broke off. " But it shocks me 
 to think of my seeming to single out a stranger 
 a- 
 
 " He is not a stranger now," said Kathy. " I 
 know him as well almost better than I know 
 anybody." 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND, 211 
 
 " Oh, Kathy, not as you know dear Mr. March- 
 mont ! " 
 
 " Of course not as Mr. Marchmont. But then 
 he is different." 
 
 " How different?" 
 
 " I thought we were talking of somebody young 
 enough young enough for me to fall in love with," 
 murmured Kathy bashfully. 
 
 " But, Kathy, Mr. Marchmont is not quite as old 
 as papa was." 
 
 " He is thirteen months younger, but that is no 
 particular difference in age," said Kathy, with a 
 hopeless sigh. " Until you told me you considered 
 that your father was too old for me, such an idea 
 had never occurred to me, and at first it hurt me, 
 it hurt me cruelly. Then after turning the matter 
 over in my mind, I could not help seeing that it 
 might be true. It gave me quite a shock to reflect 
 that if Bernard had lived until I was seventy, he 
 would have been about a hundred years old." 
 
 Perplexity gathered on the brow of Constance. 
 
 " But after all," she observed, taking a momentary 
 survey of this hypothesis, " the thirty years between 
 you seem to have counted more when you were 
 eighteen and he was forty-seven. Yet you had 
 never minded that disparity." 
 
 " No," said Kathy with another sigh, " it would 
 have seemed to me treasonable, not to say ridicu 
 lous." 
 
 " He was so interested in everything you did. 
 
212 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 Think how he used to admire your gowns, what 
 sweet loving little flatteries he had for you ! " 
 
 " I know, I know better than you can tell me." 
 
 " An older man loves youth for youth s sake ; it 
 touches him to think that his wife is young," con 
 tinued Constance. " Mr. Marchmont and papa 
 were alike in having a mingling of quiet sympathy 
 and bright humor, which kept them in touch with 
 life. I have heard you say that with Mr. March- 
 inont you are never at a loss, that you are certain 
 he feels everything with you, understands every 
 thing." 
 
 " Of course that is true," said Kathy. 
 
 44 Nobody else can be as much to you as Mr. 
 Marchmont," said Constance with a peculiar vibrat 
 ing rote in her voice. 44 No lesser, newer friend 
 can take his place." 
 
 Kathy made a gesture of despair. 
 
 44 But why do you bring it all up, when you know 
 you have put such different thoughts in my head ? " 
 she cried as if stung by regrets, even while thrilling 
 under the consciousness of other and fresher privi 
 leges. 44 You said you wanted me to fall in love 
 with somebody of my own age, somebody quite dif 
 ferent from from your dear father, who could 
 Unless you had suggested it, Constance, it would 
 have seemed to me the most dreadful disloyalty. 
 But I was sure you knew, you are always so just, 
 so wise I And now that I have accepted you as my 
 guide, my philosopher, my friend, and have fallen in 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND. 213 
 
 love with somebody else, younger and more charm 
 ing, you begin to try to make me feel sorrowful and 
 repentant." 
 
 Constance writhed in torture. " Oh, Kathy 9 
 don t say such terrible things," she faltered. 
 
 " It is true, and I must say it," persisted Kathy 
 recklessly. " It would have seemed to me wicked 
 to fall in love. I had never thought of falling in 
 love. But you wanted me to fall in love, and I 
 have fallen in love." 
 
 Constance was appalled. With all her yearning 
 tenderness for Kathy, her desire to see her happy, 
 had she actually prepared for her such a pitfall as 
 this, and led her blindly towards it ? Was Kathy 
 actually in love with Garthe ? Yesterday, at such 
 a declaration as this she had just made, Constance 
 would have accepted it as something real. To-day 
 she was wiser. It was impossible to believe it. 
 Women did not fall in love in that way, when love 
 meant the motive power of life, an influence subdu 
 ing, transfiguring, re-creating. Kathy had not 
 seen Garthe for two days, and yet had been until 
 now in an everyday mood, speaking of him casually, 
 not even in her thoughts seeming to dwell on him 
 with particular interest. This sudden gust of feel 
 ing was wholly unaccountable, except on a theory 
 of whim and caprice. For Constance said within 
 herself, until one had seen Lawrence Garthe as she 
 herself had seen him last night, with his air of quiet 
 persistence, his vivid look, which seemed to fasten 
 
214 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 upon one and penetrate one s most secret thoughts, 
 had met his smile, had heard his voice, had felt the 
 clasp of his hand, one simply had no idea of him. A 
 wave of feeling, of deep experience, of triumphant 
 joy, surged over Constance. " No, * she said to 
 herself, " there is nothing between him and Kathy 
 that all have not seen and heard.* 
 
 " Why do you smile ? " asked Kathy almost with 
 reproach. 
 
 " Did I smile ? " said Constance. " I suppose I 
 was wondering if it had actually come to pass that 
 you were in love." 
 
 " Indeed, I am very much in love," cried Kathy 
 almost with indignation. " I think of nothing else." 
 
 Constance did not reply by words, but there was 
 a dimple in her cheek, and a certain arch elevation 
 of the eyebrows. She shook her head skeptically. 
 
 " I don t care," said Kathy recklessly. tfc I do 
 think of him all the time almost and I am in love 
 deeply." She paused a moment as if to weigh the 
 effect of the thunderbolt she had launched, then 
 went on. " When I was going to be married first I 
 thought of nothing except that I should have ever 
 so many new clothes, and that at last I should have 
 a chance to go North. Now," she added with in 
 tense solemnity, " I do not think of those trivial 
 matters at all." 
 
 This innocent and unhesitating assumption with 
 which Kathy took everything for granted, drawing 
 with eager faith on the absolutely conjectural to 
 
KATHLEEN MAKES UP HER MIND. 215 
 
 supply any chance deficit, had often enough de 
 lighted Constance ; but now it not only seemed to 
 invite tribulation, but it made her feel disloyal. 
 She said very softly : 
 
 " But one has to think, dear, whether Mr. Garthe 
 on his side " she broke off ; she felt as if 
 treachery lurked behind her words, as she met 
 the full upturned glance. 
 
 " Oh," murmured Kathy with a delightful blush, 
 " I cannot have the least doubt about his feelings." 
 It was impossible to imagine a more exquisite sin 
 cerity of look and tone. 
 
 Constance was silent. She could not pursue 
 that line of argument. 
 
 " What I cannot understand is," Kathy con 
 tinued, pressing gently against the other s protecting 
 arm, " that you do not seem more glad. It is just 
 what you wished." 
 
 " I want you to be happy, dear, no doubt of that," 
 said Constance. 
 
 It was lunch time, and when the meal was over 
 it was necessary for her to see that their rooms 
 were in readiness. It was the afternoon of the Fin- 
 de-Siecle Club, and it was a comfort to observe 
 that Kathy could enter into certain small prepara 
 tions with some zest, although she had eaten almost 
 nothing, observing that she was still shuddering 
 over the horrible experience of the morning. It 
 had, she declared anew, brought a sense of the most 
 everyday things being ominous, dangerous. She 
 
216 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 was dismayed, crushed in spirit, and longed for 
 nothing so much as the chance to sit down quietly 
 and wait for rescue. 
 
 " Do you suppose he will come ? " she asked 
 Constance in a whisper. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AT THE FIN-DE-SIECLE. 
 
 IT was the way of the Fin-de-Sicle Club to sit 
 in rows of chairs and listen to an essay or lecture 
 on some subject which was later to be discussed 
 by all the members. The keynote was modernite, 
 the attitude of the members was receptivity, an 
 acceptance of any theory no matter how detached 
 and transitory, capable of being regarded as a prin 
 ciple of human existence in the present or future. 
 It was the fashion to belong to the Fin-de-Siecle. 
 Mrs. Challoner was one of its promoters, and since 
 its only real object was to gather impressions and 
 to keep in touch with the questions of the hour, 
 the individual convictions of Kathleen and Con 
 stance had nothing to do with their following 
 Mrs. Challoner. Constance, who from her earli 
 est girlhood had felt an instinctive seriousness, a 
 scrupulosity of conscience, a desire to immolate 
 herself, had so far been content with the oppor 
 tunities of her own individual existence. Her 
 young step-mother had indeed provided her with 
 a special ground for ample exercise of her sym 
 pathy and prescience, her wish for rigorous self- 
 discipline. So far she had not cared deeply for 
 
218 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 the Fin-de-Siecle Club, less than Kathy, indeed, 
 who was very impressionable and for whom any 
 basis of ultimate incertitude possessed fascinations 
 of a high order. 
 
 When Kathy had asked " Do you think he will 
 come to-day ? " Constance had known very well 
 that Garthe could not keep away on this, of all 
 days ; that he was sure not to miss a chance 
 of seeing her, of meeting her glance, of passing 
 speech with her. She knew it from her own need 
 of seeing him, of his quick sympathy, his divina 
 tion, his swift decision. 
 
 As the members of the club gathered, Constance 
 observed Kathy with wonder and with admiration. 
 To herself it was to-day constraint almost tor 
 ture to be compelled to move about and address 
 indifferent people. Her own heart was beating 
 excitedly, the color came and went in her face, she 
 was grave, unpliant, already weary of the occasion. 
 Kathy, on the other hand, was frankly and irresist 
 ibly gay, giving her opinion on every subject, 
 not only her opinion but illustrating her views 
 by rapid summaries of experience, amusing little 
 confessions; flying from one subject to another, 
 complimenting one woman on the chic of her 
 gown, asking another what she thought about the 
 morality of the new novel everybody was reading. 
 Impossible for Constance to believe that she was 
 under the sway of passion, even of deep senti 
 ment ; if she had felt the tyranny of a fixed idea 
 
AT THE FIN-DE-SIECLE. 219 
 
 she could not have been thus many-sided, thus 
 light-hearted. 
 
 The lecturer of the day had taken her place at 
 half -past three, and within five minutes had begun 
 her paper, entitled "An Evil not without a 
 Remedy." 
 
 Lawrence Garthe, ascending the steps of the 
 house on Lexington Avenue twenty minutes 
 later, was just about to press the button of the 
 bell, when the door opened softly and invisibly, and 
 he found himself unexpectedly entering a hall full 
 of people. He had no time for choice, or he might 
 have retreated. It was a crowd consisting chiefly 
 of ladies, although here and there were to be seen 
 persons of his own sex, each of whom turned 
 towards him with a look of sensible relief as if 
 rejoicing to see another man who must accept a 
 share of the responsibility. 
 
 A feminine voice of rich sonorous quality was 
 heard issuing from the main drawing-room. " You 
 say gracefully, 4 1 have all the rights I want, I 
 prefer to ask for privileges, the precious privi 
 leges of safety, exclusion, care, tenderness, the 
 sense of being considered by man a precious, a 
 sacred thing. Yes, that is charming ; and no 
 doubt the world is what we think it, and our part 
 in existence is our own individual experience, our 
 own individual consciousness. You, loving beauty 
 and joyfulness, reverencing your own soul, faith 
 ful to deep and sacred emotions, rejecting every- 
 
220 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 thing sordid, ugly, and inharmonious, may select 
 out of your environment whatever gives perma 
 nence to the highest and best ideal. 
 
 " J3ut there are half-fainting women and girls 
 shut in close hideous rooms, toiling with needles, 
 with scissors, with machines, with paste-pots, who 
 have no power of selection or of choice. Think 
 what your hours mean ! music, art, literature, 
 companionship, stimulus, sunshine, and fresh air ; 
 theirs ! let me give a few statistics : 
 
 " Paper bag makers get from ten to fifteen cents 
 a thousand bags ; buttonhole makers, five, six, and 
 seven cents for a dozen buttonholes ; boys trousers 
 makers, thirty-five cents a dozen pairs ; basters get 
 thirty cents a dozen ; finishers, from five to eight 
 cents a garment of the kind which gives them a 
 chance to finish four in a day." 
 
 "Isn t it horrible?" said a voice in Garthe s 
 ear as he stood confounded. " I feel as if I should 
 never dare to be happy again." 
 
 It was Kathy, and he looked at her with an odd 
 mingling of sensations. 
 
 " Who is it speaking? " he asked. 
 
 "Miss Eugenia Shepard, the great humani 
 tarian." 
 
 " I feel as if I had intruded where I had no 
 right." 
 
 " Oh, it is only our Fin-de-Siecle Club," said 
 Kathy. " \Ve took it this time and asked Miss 
 Shepard to speak. She is getting to be a great 
 favorite. She gives one sensations." 
 
AT THE FIN-DE-SIECLE. 221 
 
 u I do not belong to the club," said Garthe. " I 
 will go away and come at some quieter time." 
 
 " Don t go away ; I will find a quiet place for 
 you." 
 
 He had bent his ear to Kathy s lips ; now, raising 
 his head, he heard the words from within : 
 
 "And this meagre, hunger-bitten experience is 
 no accident, no casual freak of fortune, but the 
 condition of their lives from the cradle to the 
 grave." 
 
 " Come into the library," said Kathy, delighted 
 with the opportunity. She stood, a slim figure in 
 black, with her delicate face, and hair like an 
 aureole, and beckoned ; he followed. 
 
 " I hope you believe in what she says," Kathy 
 observed anxiously. 
 
 " Believe ! Who can help it ? " said Garthe. " I 
 wish to heaven I need not believe it. These hor 
 rible inequalities, these injustices to women, to chil 
 dren, to animals, to men even, strong and willing 
 and eager for good, honest, faithful work, come 
 over me so at times they threaten to drive me 
 mad." 
 
 " It is all going to be cured," said Kathy. 
 
 " Is it ? " returned Garthe. They were standing 
 together in the little alcove which led to the bay 
 window in the library. 
 
 u Yes," said Kathy, "just as soon as we have 
 the suffrage." 
 
 Garthe did not answer; he was bending his 
 head and listening. 
 
222 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 "Don t you believe in female suffrage?" in 
 quired Kathy, feeling as if perhaps her enthusiasm 
 might after all be a mere foolish truancy, and she 
 had better run back to a safe place. 
 
 "If you wish for it very much I shall not stand 
 in your way," said Garthe, smiling, although his 
 brow was still a little knitted. 
 
 44 But if we could make everything go right ? " 
 said Kathy eagerly. 
 
 "Exactly, if you could make everything go 
 right." 
 
 44 Men are so bad " 
 
 44 1 agree with you ; we are abominable. 1 
 
 44 And it is so necessary to do something for 
 those poor women who suffer with unchanging 
 need, unchanging pain " 
 
 44 Do all you can," said Garthe. He smiled at 
 her, and indeed she possessed at the moment all 
 the prettiness needed to cast a spell over a man. 
 The speaker s voice penetrated even here. 
 
 44 Until he gives us what we want, let us con 
 sider him an enemy, with whom no terms can be 
 made. Safety, peace ? It is the safety of death, 
 the peace of being nothing, of counting for 
 nothing! " 
 
 44 What is it we must give you?" inquired 
 Garthe. 
 
 44 Emancipation, the suffrage, equal wages, equal 
 rights," said Kathy, herself a little puzzled and 
 somewhat frightened at the thought of what might 
 possibly be a conflict of duties. 
 
AT THE FIN-DE-SIECLE. 223 
 
 " I remember hearing of this Miss Shepard. 
 What sort of a woman is she ? " inquired Garthe. 
 " She has a fine voice." 
 
 "Not pretty, not well dressed," said Kathy, 
 " but I admire her. I should like to resemble her 
 exactly." 
 
 " Oh, no, I do not believe that." 
 
 " Come and be introduced to her." 
 
 " Not for worlds. She has just proclaimed me 
 an enemy with whom no terms can be made." 
 
 " She does n t mean it," said Kathy consolingly. 
 " She says sometimes that everything just at pres 
 ent is transitional, revolutionary. Of course, we 
 cannot go on endlessly holding men to be enemies 
 with whom we can have nothing to do. She has to 
 say these things positively, but I don t think she 
 altogether dislikes men. Indeed, Mr. Marchmont 
 and she got on capitally, although he told her she 
 reminded him of the Fat Boy in Pickwick, who 
 went up to the old lady and said, . I wants to 
 make your flesh creep ! I wish you would come 
 and be introduced presently." 
 
 " No, thank you. She has already made my 
 flesh creep." 
 
 " And if Miss Shepard is a mere embodied in 
 tellect, as somebody called her, she has a friend, a 
 beautiful widow, who is said to be very rich, who 
 might fascinate you, a Mrs. Hernandez." 
 
 "Is she here?" he inquired, with evident sur 
 prise. 
 
224 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTUE. 
 
 " Do you know her, then ? " 
 
 " Hartley has spoken of her." 
 
 " Does lie know her ? " 
 
 " Very well indeed." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Kathy, with the true feminine 
 eagerness to see the woman with whom a man she 
 has known is ready to fall in love. kk I must go 
 and look at her again. Besides, I ought not to " 
 
 " Of course, go," said Garthe. " I will sit down 
 quietly out of the way. Do not think of any re 
 sponsibility towards me." 
 
 " Presently there will be tea and chocolate ; 
 Constance will oft er them here in the library." 
 
 " Where is she now ? " 
 
 " I do not know. If I happen to see her, I will 
 tell her you are here." 
 
 Kathy, who had been conscious while she looked 
 at Garthe and talked to him that she had not yet 
 quite measured the gulf of strangeness between 
 them, that she knew him less intimately than she 
 had supposed, hurried away. "After all, I am 
 rather afraid of him," she said to herself. He 
 seemed too remote ; too immovable. It was clear 
 that Miss Shepard s challenge had roused feeling 
 in him of some sort. " lie looks as if he had been 
 everywhere, to heaven and to hell," said Kathy. 
 "I am a little in awe of him. I m afraid I shall 
 not always enjoy him." But all the same it flat 
 tered her instincts that she could make his face 
 light up, that she could amuse him. " Of course, 
 
AT THE FIN-DE-SIECLE. 225 
 
 I am not sublime," said poor little Kathy ; " and 
 I do not want to be sublime." 
 
 Garthe sat down in the alcove and waited. 
 Miss Shepard s voice was no longer heard, but 
 others were raised, some more harsh and shrill, 
 and again low and even-toned. The discussion 
 did not interest him, brought rather a sensation of 
 skepticism, unreality, not of a real feeling which 
 has gone through and through a life, coloring it in 
 delibly. He forgot to listen, and his mind reverted 
 to Constance, to the subtle significance of his hav 
 ing intruded here on this field-day. In the terri 
 ble game he had so far had to play with Fate, in 
 which the everyday facts of life, the nature of 
 things, had seemed to be on the other side, he was 
 at last a winner. It suddenly occurred to him that, 
 now that an irrepressible conflict between the sexes 
 was being proclaimed, it might be the best thing 
 he could do to stand up before these clever but 
 inexperienced women, inspired by a longing for 
 great achievement, likely to prove dangerous from 
 their lack of self-knowledge and of humility be 
 fore the elementary facts of human existence, 
 tell them a man s side of the story, and let them 
 take issue on the right and wrong of his own vexa 
 tious wrestle with destiny. They were talking 
 about victims who felt the fetters upon them, 
 whose lives were the lives of captives without hope 
 of release. He, too, knew something of what it is 
 to struggle against everything and everybody for 
 
226 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 his daily existence ; to be conquered and have to 
 reconquer ; to bear himself through the difficulties 
 of a false position with a feeling of carrying about 
 with him an omnipresent lie which took the 
 worth out of his every effort, which oppressed, 
 burdened, and tainted even the love he felt for 
 Constance. Then he smiled at the impulse. 
 Somehow, he had to free his heart from its bur 
 den ; somehow, he had to meet inflexible reality and 
 look it in the face, but not here, not now, not to 
 day. 
 
 The odor of violets crossed him. He had sent 
 a box to Constance that morning. He rose and 
 advanced to the curtain of the alcove. She had 
 entered the room, she was directing the men at 
 the tea-table. 
 
 "Let me help you in some way," he said, ap 
 proaching her. 
 
 He was struck by the look in her eyes as she 
 raised them ; of sustained expectation which the 
 event of his coming answered. He did not offer 
 to shake hands with her. 
 
 " Did you know I was here ? " he asked. 
 
 " No." She was not in the least degree embar 
 rassed ; what she felt instead was an irresistible 
 sense of joy in his glance ; in the ease and direct 
 ness with which he approached her. 
 
 " You have to make tea for all these people ? " 
 he asked, indicating the equipage. 
 
 "I shall sit down and make U a within the limits 
 
AT THE FIN-DE-SIECLE. 227 
 
 of my teapot," she returned, smiling as their eyes 
 met. " Meantime, the men will offer tea and choco 
 late which somebody else has made." 
 
 " Please make me a cup," he said. He was 
 struck, as he had never been struck before, by her 
 beauty ; by her brilliant eyes, the clear pallor of 
 her skin, the rich color of her lips. On her side, 
 she experienced an added sense of the calm dignity, 
 the repose, of his face and manner ; to-day, even 
 more than yesterday, she was conscious of his love 
 being something absolute and real. 
 
 " I ought not to be here, I suppose," he now ob 
 served. " I am not a Fin-de-Siecle. Why did fou 
 not tell me last night you were to have this assem 
 blage of people to-day ? " 
 
 " I did not think of it." 
 
 "But you expected me ? " 
 
 "Yes," she said; the dimple showed in her 
 cheek. She had taken her seat at the table before 
 the urn, her side-face towards the door, where there 
 were groups of people constantly changing. He 
 stood at her left, with his back to them. 
 
 " Have you been thinking about me ? " he asked. 
 
 " A little." 
 
 " I knew, the moment I saw you," he said tri 
 umphantly, " that you had thought of me a great 
 deal. You have even grown to care a trifle more 
 for me than you did last night." 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 " If everything were simple and easy," he went 
 
228 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 on, " if I had nothing to conquer, nothing to thrust 
 aside, if I could freely put out my hand and clasp 
 yours, I should be afraid of my happiness. I 
 blamed myself after I had gone away last night." 
 
 She looked towards him eagerly. lie con 
 tinued : 
 
 " I said to myself, She does not know me yet. " 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 tk I suppose I know you as well as you know me," 
 she murmured. 
 
 " No. You can have little idea of me. I have 
 much in my experience you will not like. Life 
 hat been for me no smooth and easy road. I have 
 all sorts of elements in me, some fierce. Yet, when 
 I tell you my history, you will feel for me, you 
 will feel with me. There is nothing you cannot 
 sympathize with, not to say forgive." 
 
 Her eyes were raised to his. An intense surge 
 of color swept over her face. 
 
 u I am sure of it," she said simply. 
 
 " You are not afraid ? " 
 
 " No, I am not afraid." 
 
 He loved her for her courage, her decision ; but 
 ill the more he sighed. 
 
 " You know," he said in a different tone, " that 
 \ have a little boy seven years old." 
 
 Her lips and her eyelids quivered ; again a blush 
 rose to her cheeks, this time soft and rosy. " Yes," 
 she said shyly; then raising her eyes she asked 
 gently, " What is his name ? " 
 
AT THE FIN-DE-SIECLE. 229 
 
 " The same as mine. Do you know that ? " 
 
 " Lawrence." He could see her lips form the 
 word, although no sound issued from them. He 
 gave a little sigh as of relief, of ineffable contento 
 There came into his heart as he looked down at the 
 girl an indescribable, an almost infinite sense of 
 salvation, of peace ; a new future lay before him, 
 glorious in the light of heaven. 
 
 Mr. Marchmont, who had entered the room with 
 Mrs. Challoner, stood watching the two with a half 
 smile. The club was breaking up ; the members, 
 telling each other how many engagements still un 
 accomplished must be fulfilled before dinner, were 
 hurrying away, the impression of the lecture they 
 had just listened to already blurred by the thought 
 of what was to follow. 
 
 " Go and tell Constance she ought to come and 
 say good-by to Miss Shepard," said Mrs. Chal 
 loner ; and Mr. Marchmont, with a look of inscru 
 table self-possession, advanced very slowly, so 
 slowly that his approach was hardly apparent. It 
 seemed to him such a pity to interrupt the conver 
 sation. Jealousy had tormented him sorely where 
 Garthe was concerned ; but since last evening he 
 had enjoyed some peace of mind, and now to see 
 the young fellow absorbed in Constance and ab 
 sorbing her, was something to be devoutly thankful 
 for. Hence, he was so excessively deliberate that 
 Mrs. Challoner herself overtook him, and carried 
 Constance the news that Miss Shepard had gone. 
 
230 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " She could not wait to bid you good-by," said 
 Mrs. Challoncr. " She had to be at the guild by 
 five o clock, and it was already late. She was 
 sorry not to see*you, and so was Mrs. Hernandez. 
 Beautiful woman, is n t she ? and what a contrast 
 to Miss Shepard ! " 
 
 " I suppose Miss Shepard takes the beautiful 
 widow round that she may touch the hearts and 
 intellects she herself cannot reach." 
 
 "That is, the men s," said Mrs. Challoner. 
 "Did she convert you to Woman s Rights? " 
 
 " I did not need to be converted," said Mr. 
 Marchmont. " I believe devoutly in Woman s 
 Rights already." 
 
 "What sort of rights?" said Mrs. Challoner 
 suspiciously. 
 
 "All sorts of rights, whatever you set your 
 minds on. I want you all to do whatever you 
 choose. Of course," Mr. Marchmont added mourn 
 fully, with a little glance at Garthe, " we should 
 like to have a little liberty left, but it s no great 
 matter, and we don t deserve it." 
 
 "No, indeed," said Garthe cordially. 
 
 " Oh, just as soon as men concede things in that 
 tone," said Mrs. Challoner scornfully, "we don t 
 care about having any rights at all ; rather prefer 
 not to have any." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 
 
 EVEN when Mrs. Hernandez thought with her 
 on certain questions, Eugenia was often inclined 
 to repudiate such fellowship, since the other was 
 sure to have attained such results after starting 
 from different premises and working through an 
 opposite line of conclusions. Eugenia, for ex 
 ample, after years of self-suppression, of sacrifice, 
 of a sense of revolt against the sufferings of others, 
 which she could never have experienced for her 
 own wrongs, had prayerfully attained the conclu 
 sive belief that a woman must at times be a law 
 unto herself, a conviction which Mrs. Hernandez 
 had reached by a single bound away from any 
 duties and obligations which hindered her free 
 play. Eugenia was dissatisfied with the condition 
 of things, not for herself, because she never 
 thought of herself, but for her sex, for the pure 
 and proud who suffered, for the half lost who 
 might be redeemed, and for the eleven thousand 
 modern virgins who longed to set forth on a 
 crusade. Mrs. Hernandez had pondered her own 
 situation, coolly and critically, contrasted it with 
 that of any man with whom she came in contact, 
 
232 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 had weighed herself, as it were, against him, and 
 decided on his vulnerable point. Both were in 
 accord in not having absolutely defined what was 
 needed in the way of a happy solution of the 
 problem offered to the modern woman ; thus there 
 was some room for discussion. 
 
 " Women can never be anything in particular," 
 Bella observed one day, shortly after the meeting 
 of the Fin-de-Siecle Club, "because each one is 
 always thinking about some man. Either she is 
 in love with him and deadly sentimental, longing 
 to write to him, to see him, to please him, to cook 
 his meals, and carry his bag like a squaw, to do 
 him good and reform him, to get money out of 
 him, or else she hates him and spends all her time 
 thinking of his sins, of his vices, his cruelty, his 
 selfishness, his brutality.* 
 
 " 1 deny it," said Eugenia forcibly. " Look at 
 me ! What man am I thinking about? " 
 
 " The man who never came, the man you long 
 to look up to and can t, the man you have 
 dreamed of and idealized for twenty years, and who 
 makes you hate the men you have seen because 
 they are not like him." 
 
 " Never," cried Eugenia, enraged, wounded at 
 her tenderest point, " did I hear any one, man or 
 woman, utter such abject nonsense." 
 
 Bella laughed. 
 
 " I simply judge other women by myself," she 
 observed. " I am constantly thinking now-a-days 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 233 
 
 about Ferdinand Hartley. Shall I let it go on, or 
 shall I not let it go on ? What do you think ? " 
 
 " Do you love him ? " 
 
 "I love him ! " repeated Bella with scorn. 
 " I hope I have passed through that phase, I 
 hope I am no longer a sentimental girl. I am 
 twenty-nine years old ; I know what moves me and 
 I know what bores me. I know what is worth my 
 while and I know what is not worth my while. I 
 have arrived." 
 
 " Perhaps what I ought to have asked, is whether 
 you believe Mr. Hartley will wash." 
 
 "No, I do not. I ll say that frankly. But 
 then so few things will keep their original color 
 and size through hard usage. There is a terrible 
 fading and shrinking. He is good-looking ; I like 
 his manner, I like the way he meets people, the 
 way he enters a room and takes leave. He knows 
 how to do all those things which still trouble me." 
 
 " Will you permit me to inquire whether you 
 consider him to be in love with you ? " 
 
 " A man may be in love. Deliver me from a 
 cynical man. Yes, Ferdinand is a little in love 
 with me," said Bella complacently. " I can make 
 him, if I choose, furiously in love. I hate demon 
 strative lovers when I am not in the mood for 
 them." 
 
 " Don t you think it possible he may be after 
 your money ? " 
 
 " I know very well he is after my money. I 
 
234 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 have no particular objection to his being after my 
 money, what I should like to be sure of is that, 
 in marrying him, I should get the worth of my 
 money." She suddenly broke off with an im 
 patient gesture. " One gets the worth of nothing 
 in this world," she said with a note of bitter feel 
 ing in her voice. 
 
 Eugenia was well habituated to these sudden fits 
 of depression which seemed to come and go with 
 out logic or reason, alternating with the most un 
 reasonable high spirits. 
 
 " If you take my advice," she began, then hesi 
 tated. 
 
 " Well, what is your advice ? " 
 
 " You will marry some one. I do not consider 
 Mr. Hartley clever or wise or especially high- 
 minded, but I fancy his worst faults are vanity and 
 love of ease and luxury. He seems to me safer 
 perhaps from his very limitations. Married to 
 him, your social career might be assured, and I 
 think you would be more happy, more contented." 
 
 " Happier ! more contented ! " said Bella. " I 
 could n t be happy, I could n t be contented. 
 There is a push in me away from the possibility of 
 happiness and contentment. I need movement ; I 
 need some excitement to satisfy something in me 
 that is like an aching thirst." 
 
 " You think about yourself too much." 
 
 "Don t you know that a woman is herself, 
 that she can be nothing but herself ? You talk as 
 if I could make myself over ! " 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 235 
 
 " So you can," said Eugenia coolly. " Stop 
 thinking about yourself, even for one day. Go 
 into the street, any street in this city, in any city, 
 and think about the unhappy-looking women you 
 meet ; follow them home and find out something 
 about their lives, and understanding their case you 
 will get a new idea about what trouble is, and you 
 may be ready to reflect upon your own singular 
 good fortune." 
 
 " Do you suppose then that I have never suf 
 fered?" 
 
 " You have not suffered enough to find out that 
 you must submit, that you must accept the 
 decline of every wish just as you accept the fact 
 of the setting of the sun. That is the lesson of 
 suffering which mortals have to learn." 
 
 " But when I suffer I long to hurt some 
 body," said Bella. She spoke carelessly. " It is 
 you who have no idea of what suffering means. 
 It teaches one fierceness, it teaches one cruelty, it 
 teaches one hatred. But you know nothing of that 
 side of life. You are an odd compound, Eugenia, 
 all theory, no practice. I don t suppose you 
 ever in all your life had an offer of marriage." 
 
 " No," returned Eugenia with some grimness. 
 " I belong, I suppose, to what is called the third 
 sex. I have not taken up fancy-work as an 
 alternative to falling in love, nor falling in love as 
 an alternative to fancy-work. But I have had my 
 share of the wear and tear of life." 
 
230 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Bella had been reclining on the sofa, but now 
 started up and began to move about restlessly. 
 4k When you address a room full of women," she 
 now said abruptly, " you do not tell them to sub 
 mit to suffering, to injustice, to learn lessons from 
 failure. You tell them to revolt." 
 
 Eugenia s brow had knitted, and she rubbed the 
 furrows with her hand. " Yes, I am inconsistent," 
 she said. " It is only when I am worked up, when 
 my brain is heated by the sight of the unequally 
 distributed wealth, the unequally distributed happi 
 ness, the unequally distributed misery in the world, 
 that I can be wholly a reformer, that I long to 
 tear down and build up anew." 
 
 " If I had accepted my life," proceeded Bella, still 
 thoughtful, " if I had submitted to what I did not 
 like, denied myself reasonable ambitions, and tried 
 to satisfy people, I should not be here to-day, an 
 independent, rich woman ; neither would you be 
 having your present promising career." 
 
 " Well, who knows ? " said Eugenia. 
 
 " But with me," Bella went on, " every single 
 effort has been a means to an end. I have taken 
 old-fashioned conventions and cut them to ribbons ; 
 but I did not do it for the sake of my sex, I did it 
 for myself, I was bound to have a life of my 
 own, a career of my own. Not that when I 
 began I had even the dimmest presentiment of what 
 was in store for me. I only saw a little way ahead, 
 but I saw that very clearly, and anything that 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 237 
 
 hindered me I trod it under foot," she stamped 
 softly on the rug. " If I had an impulse I did not 
 waste it in small change, as it were. I acted on it 
 on the moment ; I frittered neither time nor strength 
 away in talk. Why do you look at me in that way, 
 Eugenia? " 
 
 If Miss Shepard had answered as she felt, she 
 would have said that Mrs. Hernandez s face, gesture, 
 and movement gave her a painful sense of the sav 
 agery of the woman. What she said was : 
 
 " I hope you are not posing as the typical modern 
 woman." 
 
 "Well, why not?" said Bella, laughing. "If 
 I do not lose myself in the cause as you do, it is 
 because I have been through everything, I have 
 tested everything, and I know that what you are all 
 striving for as a great end will not be worth having 
 after you get it." 
 
 " You seem to predict success for us." 
 
 " Oh, yes, success, what you now call success. 
 A man can always be beaten by a woman, and what 
 one woman can effect against one man, a thousand 
 women can effect against a thousand men. But 
 you cannot alter the facts of things. Marriage is 
 the only career, the only profession, worth a woman s 
 having, and that brings me round again to the 
 question whether I shall marry Ferdinand Hart 
 ley." She paused before a mirror. " Sometimes," 
 she observed, " when I have been thinking about 
 myself past, present, and to come, I am frankly 
 amazed to see how young I am still." 
 
238 THE STORY OF LAWK EN CE GARTHE. 
 
 Even the cold Eugenia looked at her with admi 
 ration. Her eyes sparkled, the curve of her lips 
 was full of disdain and mischief. 
 
 44 1 m not thirty yet," she said, " and how much 
 has happened to me ! " She uttered this in a tone 
 as of soliloquy, then laughed outright as if some 
 thought amused her. She glanced back at Eugenia. 
 " What was it Mr. Hartley was quoting about the 
 desirable existence, to be a woman until thirty, a 
 soldier till fifty, and a monk the rest of one s life ? 
 You observe that gives a woman no chance after 
 the age of thirty." 
 
 " Somebody else said, 4 A woman is adored until 
 she is thirty, after that she adores. " 
 
 Bella repeated this twice over as if trying to test 
 the truth of it. 
 
 " Now I should have said," she observed pres 
 ently, "that most women began by adoring and 
 later found out that it was more profitable to be 
 adored." 
 
 It sometimes seemed to Eugenia that Bella s un 
 checked sweep of thought took erratic curves towards 
 the wide horizons of truth ; then again there was 
 this jar, this dissonance with her own belief. But 
 perhaps, she said to herself, if Bella s frankness 
 were sometimes a little brutal, did it not come from 
 a resolution to utter the worst that was in her, to 
 disarm judgment by giving her least opinion a 
 stamp and an edge of individuality ? These con 
 tradictions in her yawned wide enough to admit all 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 239 
 
 sorts of free play of contrasting elements of char 
 acter. In general, she liked refinement, and to 
 push her love of luxury to its limit ; but then she 
 could discard good taste and show* a hearty contempt 
 for high civilization. Habitually good-natured, she 
 could put on roughness, and although she usually 
 liked to be generous with her money she alternated 
 between a meaningless profusion and a niggardly 
 grip of her purse which had more than once put 
 Miss Shepard to the blush. 
 
 By this time Hartley had intrenched himself in 
 the position of Mrs. Hernandez s friend, philosopher, 
 and guide, and he had besides made a powerful 
 auxiliary of his sister, Mrs. Barry, and had pressed 
 her into the service. Mrs. Barry was a bright, 
 pretty woman, enamored of the pleasantness of life, 
 and, although almost completely wrapped up in her 
 husband and children, was still ready to sacrifice 
 herself in her brother s behalf and help on his inter 
 ests. She flattered Bella and she liked Eugenia 
 heartily. In return Eugenia considered her frivo 
 lous, and Bella studied her coolly and critically, try 
 ing to get at the secret of a certain ease and natural 
 nonchalance that she possessed in common with 
 her brother, and which enabled her to find the com 
 fortable side of things. 
 
 " How do you like her ? " Hartley asked his sister 
 after she had met Mrs. Hernandez twice. 
 
 " I quite admire her," said Mrs. Barry discreetly. 
 
 "Keally?" 
 
240 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 "Yes, really. Perhaps I ought to confess that 
 there is something in her at times a little fierce, 
 something indefinably different from other people, 
 which chills affection." 
 
 " But do you think she is socially acceptable, 
 Is she presentable ? " 
 
 " As Mrs. Ferdinand Hartley ? Yes ; only, if she 
 becomes Mrs. Ferdinand Hartley, I advise you to 
 look out for yourself." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " It seems to me there is a dangerous side to 
 her." 
 
 Hartley delared that he liked this piquancy, this 
 distinct note of individuality. What he had wanted 
 was the mere conventional verdict of a woman who 
 had a quick eye for the desirable or undesirable 
 .characteristics of a member of her sex. He did 
 not need the warning. At times he was ready to 
 pique himself on his intimate knowledge of the real 
 Bella Hernandez, then a chance word, look, or 
 action seem to put a chasm between them which 
 he knew not how to bridge over. At such times she 
 seemed to him a being of sensations, sympathies, 
 experiences, and ambitions utterly alien to his own, 
 and he found* himself tormented and out of heart 
 for the enterprise. Then when her mood had 
 passed, his repugnance vanished as well, and he 
 could condone the action or expression which had 
 displeased him, accepting it as a child s mischie 
 vous freak, or perhaps the test a coquettish woman 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 241 
 
 appointed to try his affection. Another trait in 
 Bella he found inconsistent and incomprehensible 
 was the pushing to extremes her resolution to be 
 chaperoned at all times and all seasons. He had 
 actually, so far, never seen her alone ; Miss Shep- 
 ard was invariably with her if she received him; 
 if the companion happened to be absent she declined 
 to receive visitors. Whether Mrs. Hernandez was 
 afraid of him or afraid of herself ; whether, pene 
 trating his motives, she thus fenced herself with 
 precautions ; or whether she desired to keep him 
 at arm s length, testing him thoroughly before ad 
 mitting him to the privileges of an accepted suitor, 
 he could not decide. And it may be confessed that 
 until some little time had passed, he had been very 
 well contented to be held in check by the presence 
 of Miss Shepard, who, with some happy dexterity, 
 seemed to see without seeing, and hear without hear 
 ing, as unconscious as the Dresden china figures 
 on the mantelpiece. There was perhaps an added 
 zest in thus making love, stopping short just when 
 the situation became dangerous, pulling one s self 
 up on the brink. Each understood the situation, 
 and each had the wit and the audacity to play 
 with the advantages it presented. 
 
 Still, Hartley was by this time inclined to push 
 his advantages to the utmost, and he schemed a 
 little for a private interview. He liked Eugenia, 
 and he believed, too, that she was an ally and not 
 an enemy. Yet a man cannot make love to two 
 
242 TIIE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 women at once, and in the moment that he speaks 
 with eloquence, with strong persuasion, and to the 
 heart, he prefers a single ear. 
 
 One evening just before Lent, Mrs. Barry had 
 invited her brother and Mrs. Hernandez to dine 
 with her and later to accompany her to the opera. 
 Bella had at first declined, saying that she never 
 went out without Miss Shepard, and that Miss 
 Shepard was not only not invited but had an 
 engagement which would keep her away until 
 eight o clock. This evasion was so derided, so 
 ignored by Mrs. Barry, who possessed a fair share 
 of woman s wit, that Bella gave way almost against 
 her will and found herself, at seven o clock, sitting 
 down at Mrs. Barry s table, and, three quarters of 
 an hour later, on her way to the opera-house. 
 She had been quiet through the meal, but Mr. 
 Barry, his wife, and Hartley had made up for her 
 silence by a lively dialogue, easy, intimate, illus 
 trated by little incidents recounted in a lively way 
 and set off with piquant descriptions. The mind 
 they were addressing was, however, of a different 
 order from their own. Their statement of a case 
 was at once too clear and not clear enough ; the 
 arguments they advanced were suggested, not de 
 fined ; they permitted too much to go without say 
 ing, and did not attempt to explain obvious truths 
 to suit the mind of their hearer. Thus Bella, 
 startled, perplexed at their saying often exactly the 
 opposite of what they thought, their affectation of 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 243 
 
 indifference for what she knew they liked, their 
 quick vivid descriptions of what was going on in a 
 world which she neither knew by experience nor 
 correctly realized in her imagination, felt herself 
 eclipsed, set aside, her claims almost derided. It 
 seemed to her that Mrs. Barry was talking of 
 nothing but the honors she received ; she im 
 agined that Hartley was endeavoring to show her 
 that he had other acquaintances more charming 
 than herself ; the suspicion tormented her that 
 they more than once wittily alluded to events in 
 her own secret history, which they had contrived 
 to find out. Then, too, she was vexed with herself 
 for being dull and heavy, devoid of charm, show 
 ing at every stage of the meal some lack of 
 knowledge, and, however she might vaunt her own 
 superior beauty, wealth, elegance, feeling inferior 
 to Mrs. Barry, who when complimented on her new 
 gown declared that she had made it herself out of 
 two old ones, and that no dressmaker had even 
 touched it. 
 
 In fact, living easily with people, entering into 
 their tone, accepting what they say at its just 
 value, and expressing one s self with sincerity and 
 without too much emphasis, is one of the final 
 results of culture, and Bella had not attained it. 
 To his astonishment, Hartley soon found that she 
 was not only out of spirits, but out of temper. 
 
 " What is it ? " he contrived to say to her, as he 
 was conducting her to the carriage. " I am afraid 
 
244 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 we bored you. When Edna and I are togethei 
 we are in such spirits." 
 
 " It seemed to me," she said with a sort of de 
 fiance in her tone, "that you were laughing at 
 me." 
 
 " Laughing at you ! " said Hartley incredulously. 
 " When all that Edna longed to do was to please 
 you, to make you feel that you were among friends ! 
 And I - Bella, do you know me so little as not 
 to realize that I only wish to show you my heart ? " 
 
 He pressed her hand to his side. Her tone had 
 alarmed him. 
 
 " Sometimes," she said, " I feel so lonely ; I 
 iniss Eugenia." 
 
 " I wish I could be something to you," said 
 Hartley with real fervor. " I had hoped you were 
 beginning to like me a little." 
 
 He was putting her into the carriage. It seemed 
 to him that she returned the pressure of his hand, 
 and it reassured him slightly, but he did not again 
 forget his role. Sitting opposite her in the car 
 riage, he kept his eyes fixed on her face, hardly 
 speaking except in monosyllables. 
 
 Although Bella s predominant sentiment had 
 been anger, an anger which included not only Mn 
 and Mrs. Barry, but Hartley, it was a fictitious 
 feeling, and came not so much from a dislike of 
 being rivaled and surpassed as from a sort of 
 timidity, a sensation of being cramped in this 
 secondary place she was obliged to take. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 245 
 
 " Stay near me," she said to Hartley as they 
 entered the box. 
 
 " That is what I wish to do. I desire nothing 
 else," he said. 
 
 He could see that she was not at her ease, that 
 she looked at the women in the boxes about her 
 with curiosity, yet with a self-consciousness which 
 left her awkward and restless. The hum of 
 voices, the salutations, the easy gliding of men 
 from box to box, the intimate air of the groups 
 who met and exchanged a word, perhaps made her 
 feel as if she had invaded a world in which she 
 had no real footing. She became sensible that 
 lorgnettes were leveled at her. 
 
 " Do you observe how people are looking at 
 you ? " Hartley asked her, leaning forward. 
 
 " Why should they look at me ? " she asked 
 uneasily. 
 
 " You are a stranger, or comparatively so. 
 They have heard of you and are curious to see 
 
 you." 
 
 " I wish they would not. I do not feel sure of 
 myself to-night." 
 
 " You are in superb good looks, and your gown 
 Is magnificent." 
 
 " But these women are so splendidly dressed ! 
 See those diamonds." 
 
 " No handsomer than yours, and yours help to 
 set off beauty and youth, not ugliness and decay." 
 
 Under the influence of these flatteries, Bella s 
 
246 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 self-possession revived slightly. She began to be 
 accustomed to the brilliance, the sparkle, the 
 subdued excitement and sense of expectation. 
 The first notes of the overture created a diversion, 
 and she could give her eyes to the stage. The 
 opera was Wagner s Walkiire, and for a time she 
 seemed, much to Hartley s relief, to be interested 
 in the thickly gathering crowd of impressions of 
 the story. She kept her eyes on the performers 
 until the curtain fell, then plied Hartley, who 
 leaned forward, eager for her least word, with 
 questions concerning the plot. It would have 
 been impossible for him to have described his 
 evening as one full of enjoyment ; still at every 
 sign of complacency on her part he experienced an 
 indescribable sense of joyful relief. He had 
 become accustomed to the thought that he could 
 marry Bella if he wished, and he had suddenly 
 discovered, now that she frowned for a moment, 
 that he desired it with all his heart and soul, 
 that his life had narrowed down to that one single 
 ambition. Not that he was in love, not that he 
 was under any illusions as to the sort of life in 
 store for him if he won her ; living for a round of 
 occupations, dissipations, and amusements which 
 brought with them, not stimulus, but a sense of 
 weariness, skepticism, uselessness ; of luxury for 
 the sake of luxury, of self-indulgence for the sake 
 of self-indulgence ; never really belonging to that 
 more exclusive world which he might deride if he 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 247 
 
 were in it, but when barred out by any cause mak 
 ing a fetish of it. 
 
 This background of his thoughts did not dis 
 turb his clear resolution to say something to 
 Bella, before he slept that night, which should fix 
 himself in her mind and heart and decide his 
 future. How to say it, whether with overmastering 
 passion, whether with coolness and courage, giving 
 a humorous touch to the situation, or whether to 
 trust his declaration to the chapter of chances and 
 let it utter itself, he was not yet quite sure. 
 
 He was reflecting that he still had the whole 
 last act of the opera in which to make up his mind, 
 when he was all at once startled by Mrs. Hernan 
 dez saying to him in a whisper : 
 
 " I want to go home." 
 
 " To go home ? " he repeated. " Are you ill ? " 
 
 " No, no. Get me a carriage and send me 
 home," said Bella restlessly. " I am tired of it." 
 The act was finishing, there was a little stir all 
 over the house, and she, with others, rose to her 
 feet. 
 
 " Are you going to take a turn in the lobby ? " 
 asked Mrs. Barry. 
 
 "No, I am going home," said Bella. "Your 
 brother will find a carriage and put me in it. 
 Then he can come back to you." 
 
 Mrs. Barry looked archly from one to the other. 
 
 " I am very sorry," she said. " The last act is 
 very beautiful. But after all, it is long, and I can 
 see, Mrs. Hernandez, you look tired." 
 
248 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTITE. 
 
 " I have a headache, the lights tire me." 
 
 " Ferdy will take good care of you," said Mrs. 
 Barry. " He need not come back. Edward is 
 here somewhere, and he will look after me." 
 
 She gave a knowing little nod as she met her 
 brother s eyes, and he smiled. Although he had 
 been startled by his companion s sudden whim, 
 nothing could have suited him better than the way 
 things had fallen out. He found Bella s outside 
 garment, wrapped it about her with an air of 
 devout homage, and offered his arm. The stair 
 ways were full of people, and twenty men took 
 occasion to salute him with a smiling emjwcssement. 
 His companion was frankly stared at by some of 
 the women who had come out for a breath of air. 
 Her cloak of white moire and angora, and the 
 scarf of rich lace around her head, became her. 
 She walked with grace, seeming quite indifferent 
 to the groups ; Hartley could see that she roused 
 curiosity and admiration. 
 
 " Six months, a year hence," he whispered, 
 " you will be the centre of attraction in a place 
 like this. You are making a sensation." 
 
 " I only wish to get away," she replied. 
 
 They paused in the vestibule. 
 
 " You did not enjoy the opera." 
 
 "No. I am sorry to rob you of the last act 
 You can get me a carriage and go back to your 
 sister." 
 
 He smiled and slightly pressed the hand on his 
 arm against his side. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 249 
 
 " The heat and lights were too much for you," he 
 said. 
 
 She drew a long breath. " I hated it, I 
 loathed it," she said fervently, although in a voice 
 little above a whisper. 
 
 " So did I." 
 
 " No, not as I did. You did not feel, like me, as 
 if the people belonged to one world and I to 
 another, as if they were crowding me out," 
 
 " You were fanciful. They are all ready to bow 
 down and worship you. There is nobody who will 
 not admire you. They are actually very good- 
 natured, most of them a little dull and heavy, yet 
 with a longing to seem to get more out of their 
 life than their neighbors, although each is thinking 
 about himself or herself : of his tight boots that 
 pinch him, of the torn lace on her gown, can it be 
 mended ? or that another toilette although sim 
 pler has more chic than her own, or that the man 
 she longs to monopolize is with the especial group 
 of people she hates. They are all occupied with 
 themselves ; they think no more of you and me 
 than of the painted figures in the frescoes." 
 
 " But they stared so, I knew not which way to 
 look." 
 
 " I can forgive them for looking at you. 1 
 looked." 
 
 " I saw one woman, I know who she is, a 
 Mrs. Garner, smile as she glanced at us both." 
 
 " She is always smiling. It becomes her." 
 
250 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GABTHK 
 
 " Did you ever see a ghost ? " inquired Bella 
 with a little shiver. 
 
 " Nobody ever sees ghosts unless he believes in 
 them, and I only believe in the world of flesh and 
 blood," said Hartley soothingly. " You are a little 
 nervous to-night. Forget it all." 
 
 Gradually, under the influence of his glance, his 
 touch, his good-humor, the imperious self-willed 
 personality of the woman beside him began to be 
 melted. She leaned towards him confidingly. 
 They were waiting for their carriage, expecting 
 each moment to hear the number called. The 
 wind blew cruelly where they stood, near the open 
 door of the lobby. Suddenly she turned and clung 
 to him, hiding her face against his shoulder, as a 
 gust swept across them. 
 
 " You will be frozen," said Hartley. " I will go 
 and see what causes this delay." 
 
 " No, no, no," she returned. " Do not leave 
 me." 
 
 He could feel that she was trembling from head 
 to foot. Just at that instant a familiar fijnire 
 
 O 
 
 passed them. 
 
 " Lawrence," said Hartley, u how are you ? 
 Could you spare a moment to look after my car 
 riage ? Number one hundred and forty-five." 
 
 It was called while he was speaking. 
 
 " Bitterly cold," said Garthe, glancing towards 
 the muffled figure beside Hartley. " It feels like 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER, 251 
 
 " I hope not. It is an abominable winter. How 
 are you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I m well." 
 
 Garthe glanced again at the woman who had so 
 ooncealed her face that he could gain no impres 
 sion of her identity, then raised his hat and re- 
 entered the opera-house. 
 
 It seemed to Hartley, as he led Bella down the 
 steps, that she tottered. The man holding the door 
 open had to help her into the carriage, and she 
 sank down shapelessly in the corner. 
 
 "You are frozen," said Hartley. 
 
 "Yes, frozen stiff," she answered with a little 
 laugh. He could hear her teeth chatter. 
 
 There was an appeal in her whole manner, if not 
 to his tenderness, at least to his sympathy. He 
 folded her wraps about her more closely ; his arm 
 encircled her, as he took her hands and warmed 
 them within his own. Then, conscious of not meet 
 ing a rebuff, although he was equally conscious 
 that she held out no invitation, and had simply 
 permitted his show of affectionate concern, he ven 
 tured, very gently, to draw her closer to him ; he 
 pressed her head against his shoulder. 
 
 She yielded for a moment in silence, then asked, 
 with a half laugh : 
 
 " Are you in love with me ? " 
 
 " Surely you do not doubt it, Bella." 
 
 " I doubt most things to-night." 
 
 " Then all the more you might believe in me." 
 
252 T1IE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " Better save your love-making for a more au 
 spicious time. Can t you see that I am in a rage ? " 
 
 " With me ? " asked Hartley, completely stag- 
 gered by her tone and manner, by such jarring 
 dissonance with his own mood. 
 
 " No, not with you, except that you belong to the 
 human race." 
 
 The carriage stopped. They had reached the 
 Percy. The door was opened, and in another mo 
 ment they were inside the warmed and lighted ves 
 tibule. He looked at her in doubt, not certain 
 whether he ought to take leave, resigning his 
 coveted opportunity without having pressed it to a 
 conclusion, or to be tenacious of his privileges, as 
 a man should. 
 
 She saw that he paused in doubt. 
 
 " Oh ! do not go yet," she said indifferently. 
 " I suppose Eugenia will be waiting for us." 
 
 Her tone vexed him ; her look cut his vanity to 
 the quick ; it robbed him of all dignity. Still, lie 
 followed her obediently up the broad shallow stairs, 
 preceded by a servant who opened the door and 
 turned up the lights in the empty room, and made 
 the fire blaze more brightly. By the time the at 
 tendant had acquitted himself of these duties, Bella 
 had in a measure conquered her irritation, or 
 perhaps, finding herself among her familiar sur 
 roundings, she had regained her sense of her own 
 identity ; had lost her feeling of diminished privi 
 lege. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 253 
 
 She sat down on her favorite sofa, flung back 
 her ermine-lined mantle with its edge of long silky 
 angora fur, took off the lace scarf from her hair, 
 and emerged from this chrysalis, smiling. A close 
 observer would have seen, nevertheless, that her 
 lower lip still trembled. 
 
 " I don t know what you must think of me," she 
 said. 
 
 " That you are the most beautiful of women, 
 that is what I think," returned Hartley, who had 
 planted himself before her. " If you were not at 
 times a trifle incomprehensible, you would not, I 
 suppose, be a woman, but an angel." 
 
 " Oh, I m no angel," said Bella. " You may as 
 well understand that. I do not even want to be 
 an angel." She shivered as she spoke, or Hartley 
 might have suggested that there are two kinds 
 of angels. But she spoke in an odd voice ; some 
 thing in her look and manner appealed to him 
 afresh. It almost suggested an overcharged heart 
 yearning to pour itself out in intimate confidence. 
 
 He took her hand. 
 
 " I wish you would tell me what has happened to 
 disturb you ? " he said earnestly. " If any man in 
 the world can be your friend, I am that man. You 
 might better trust me entirely than torture me by 
 half allusions." 
 
 " You say you are my friend ? " she said with 
 her mocking, tantalizing smile. 
 
 " I am your devoted friend." 
 
254 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " What would you do for me ? " 
 
 " Anything that man can do." 
 
 "That is a large promise," she said, with the 
 same mocking, tantalizing manner. " I might put 
 your friendship to some terrible test." 
 
 " You will find me faithful," said Hartley, going 
 over in his mind all her singularities of behavior 
 and wondering to what crimes he was pledging 
 himself. Perhaps she detected this arriere-pensee, 
 for she laughed. 
 
 " I don t ask anything tragical," she said lightly. 
 " I should simply like to feel that a man loved me 
 enough to be true to me through evil report and 
 good report, tome; not the rich Mrs. Hernandez, 
 but Bella Brown, the real woman. But I suppose 
 it is more than I have a right to ask." 
 
 He bent his full gaze upon her. " No," he said 
 with emphasis. 
 
 " Sometimes," she said, " I feel as if I were los 
 ing my nerve. For one thing, I have grown to 
 depend upon Eugenia. I can t live alone. I have 
 a horror of being alone. At the opera-house it 
 seemed to me I was a target ; as if from all sides 
 came glances, whispers, questions, comments." 
 She shivered as she spoke. 
 
 He was still holding her hand. He came closer, 
 but with a sudden coquettish gesture she released 
 herself from his clasp, and moved to the end of the 
 sofa. 
 
 " Tell me something," she said, with imperious- 
 ness. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 255 
 
 " Anything." 
 
 " Who was the man to whom you spoke on the 
 steps of the opera-house ? " 
 
 " Lawrence Garthe, a cousin of mine." 
 
 " A cousin of yours ? How very odd ! " 
 
 Her face had changed. Her eyes were intensely 
 bright, and on each cheek was a spot of fiery color. 
 
 " It is not a close relationship. His father and 
 my father were cousins, but we were thrown to 
 gether as children, and have always known each 
 other well. But why is it odd ? Are you ac 
 quainted with him?" 
 
 " I have seen him, and I have heard a great deal 
 about him," said Bella. " How does he happen to 
 be here in New York?" 
 
 " He lives here." 
 
 " Lives here in New York ? " she exclaimed in 
 credulously. 
 
 Hartley gazed at her in astonishment. She 
 seemed laboring under some intense feeling ; her 
 face was full of color and animation; she moved 
 her hands, her arms, her feet, her whole figure, and 
 in her look, attitude, and gestures, there was the sug 
 gestion of something cruel, something menacing. 
 
 " Why, what do you know about Garthe ? " he 
 exclaimed, recalling his conversation with his 
 cousin and his effort to elicit some information re 
 garding Mrs. Hernandez. His mind reverted to 
 Lawrence s feeling of dislike and antagonism 
 towards the late Aurelio, but anything he could 
 
250 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 conjecture concerning the relations of the two men 
 seemed inadequate to account for Bella s excite 
 ment. 
 
 However, as Hartley bent his deep, penetrating 
 look upon her she became conscious that she was 
 betraying too much and rousing his curiosity, and 
 gave a little shrug. " What should I know about 
 him, except that he used to be considered a wonder 
 ful expert in mineralogy," she said, laughing. 
 " Men used to carry bits of ore and gravel to him, 
 trembling in their boots, for he could tell them 
 whether they had got hold of a big bonanza or a 
 beggarly claim that wouldn t pay for the panning 
 out. He could run up mining stocks to three hun 
 dred in a day simply by raising his finger, or knock 
 the bottom out of them by shaking his head, so 
 that they fell below zero, as if a blizzard had come 
 down from Manitoba." 
 
 " Yes," said Hartley thoughtfully. " I know he 
 is a first-class scientific man." 
 
 "Oh, yes, a first-class scientific man, but too 
 good for this world," she said in an ironic tone. 
 
 " Was he married when you knew him ? " 
 
 "Married?" she repeated as if incredulous. 
 " Did he ever condescend to marry a mortal 
 woman ? " 
 
 " He married shortly after he went West. We 
 were taken by surprise, he seemed the last man 
 I knew to marry in such haste." 
 
 " Did he marry in haste to repent at leisure?" 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 257 
 
 " His wife died in a year or two." 
 
 " Died ? Did she die, poor thing ? " said Bella in 
 a tone of deep commiseration. " And married to a 
 man like Lawrence Garthe ? What a pity ! " 
 
 " I am sorry you do not seem to fancy my cousin 
 Lawrence." 
 
 " Do you ? " she asked dryly. 
 
 " I like him particularly. I never had a brother, 
 and he has been more like a brother to me than 
 any man alive. As little fellows we used to visit 
 together at my grandmother s in the summer, and 
 that sort of intimacy sticks to one. After one is 
 grown up it is not so easy a matter to get up 
 friendship, one has not the requisite impetus; one 
 has not the same amount of unexpended feeling." 
 Hartley spoke with animation ; her half -expressed 
 scorn of Garthe had roused all his combativeness. 
 "When I am with Lawrence," he went on, "I 
 always wish I were that sort of man ; then when I 
 come away, I think with some relief that after all 
 it is not in me to be that sort of man." 
 
 " But why should you, of all men, envy him ? " 
 she demanded. 
 
 " He is so honest, so thorough ; he finds so many 
 things interesting outside of himself and his own 
 selfish ambitions. He loves hard work, shirks 
 nothing ; the fiercer the tug the more faithful he is, 
 when he has an object in view." 
 
 She curled her lip. 
 
 " It sounds like a description of a safe old slow 
 coach " 
 
258 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 " If he is slow, he is sure," said Hartley, coerced 
 by masculine instinct, besides family affection, to 
 stand by a man towards whom she exhibited an 
 antagonism, even a disdain, which vexed him. " He 
 has been, in his own line, a very successful man, 
 and without ever having made money his prime 
 object, he is almost rich." 
 
 " liich ! " she exclaimed incredulously. " Rich," 
 she repeated scornfully. " I should like to hear 
 what you call rich." 
 
 " Well, perhaps by your estimate of things he is 
 not rich, he is certainly not a millionaire." 
 
 " But fairly well off, comfortable ? " 
 
 " Fairly well off ; comfortable." 
 
 She was silent for a moment, and again he had 
 the impression of cruel forces in reserve, as if she 
 were gathering them for a spring. But with her 
 elastic change of mood she rallied, and laughed, 
 although there was no laughter in her eyes. 
 
 " He lost his wife, you say," she said with that 
 ironical face. 
 
 " Years ago." 
 
 " He has not married again ? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " Not yet ; you speak as if he were likely to 
 marry soon." 
 
 Hartley laughed low. " I am not in his secrets/ 
 
 44 But you meant something by that * Not yet/ 
 
 " I suspect that he is in love. I have no right 
 to say it, but as I happen to have introduced him 
 to a very charming friend of mine " 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 259 
 
 "You introduced him to a charming friend of 
 yours ? " she repeated eagerly. " And he has fallen 
 in love with her ? " 
 
 " Garthe is not the man to discuss his private 
 affairs. He has hardly ever spoken about his first 
 wife to me." 
 
 "His first wife ? Do men ever enjoy talking 
 about their early mistakes ? It is the second wife 
 who is interesting. Tell me about her." 
 
 Impelled by his love of holding his own, yet 
 withheld by the restlessness and fierceness in Bella, 
 which suggested the chafing of a leopardess, he 
 tried to content her with some vague general outlines 
 of the history of Garthe s acquaintance with the 
 Garners. But with a child s obstinate pertinacity 
 she pressed question upon question until she had 
 elicited not only all that Hartley could veraciously 
 impart, but a great deal that, with his loose hold 
 upon facts, he permitted to escape him, yet could 
 not vouch for. 
 
 "Mrs. Garner! The one who looked at me 
 to-night. How long since her husband died ? " 
 
 " More than four years." 
 
 " She looks very young." 
 
 " She is twenty-eight." 
 
 " Twenty-eight, and looks eighteen ! I should like 
 to know her secret. I wish you could tell me what 
 she uses for her complexion." 
 
 " Both you and Mrs. Garner may dispense with 
 fictitious aids to beauty for some thirty years to 
 
200 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE G ART HE. 
 
 " And he is in love with her ! But no wonder." 
 
 " He has not told me he is in love with her, but 
 he goes there constantly. And he ought to marry. 
 He owes it to his child to marry." 
 
 " lie has a child, then ? " she said in a low, clear 
 voice. 
 
 " A fine little lad of seven or so. Lawrence 
 worships him." 
 
 " Rich, well placed in the world, a fine boy he is 
 devoted to, a beautiful second wife in store for him ! 
 No wonder you call him a successful man ! The 
 universal human plague of defeat and failure evi 
 dently does not touch him." 
 
 Hartley put on an air of impassiveness. 
 
 " I in sorry you dislike my cousin Lawrence," he 
 said. 
 
 " Dislike him ? " she repeated, raising her eyes 
 to his and smiling. " Do you want me to like 
 him ? Do you want me to fall in love with him ? " 
 
 He was glad of this appeal to his jealousy ; he 
 had felt the double sting of her injustice to Garthe 
 and of her display of more passionate feeling in her 
 scorn and aversion than he, Hartley, had been able 
 to inspire in the way of love for himself. Thus he 
 was, to a degree, pacified by her tone and look. 
 
 " They say," he remarked easily, " that a man 
 only hates the woman he has once loved overmuch, 
 and that a woman only hates the man who has not 
 loved her." 
 
 " I hate nobody," she said, with a little yawn 
 behind her hand. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 261 
 
 Hartley, who had for some time been leaning on 
 the back of the armchair in front of the sofa, 
 started up. 
 
 " I had forgotten it was so late," he said. " I 
 must go. I am glad to carry away your confession 
 that you hate nobody. Still, negations are not 
 enough for me. I want you to confess that you 
 love somebody ! " 
 
 He did not, however, dally with the possibilities 
 of his suggestion. She, too, had risen ; he again 
 took her hand, stooped, laid his lips to it, gave her 
 a smiling glance, and went out. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 
 
 LEFT alone, Bella stood for a few moments with 
 out moving from her place, her eyes fixed on the 
 door which had closed after Hartley, her features 
 changing gradually from their look of coquetry and 
 animation to one of deep reverie. 
 
 " I thought," she murmured after a time, " that 
 he was on the other side of the world." An au 
 dible exclamation escaped her and she shuddered. 
 " I might have met him anywhere, at any time, in 
 the street, in a roomful of people ! " 
 
 She shrank anew with the same impulse she had 
 experienced at the opera-house, longing to hide her 
 self, to flee to the ends of the earth, to do anything at 
 any price, at any risk, at any suffering, to escape the 
 humiliation of meeting the eyes of that man. She 
 knew now that it had actually been he whose side 
 face she had seen as he spoke to Mrs. Garner. 
 All the vague restlessness, the foolish terrors, the 
 intense self-consciousness she had not been able to 
 combat, but which had gathered into an overmas 
 tering pulsation of dread, were now explained. She 
 wondered now that she had not altogether betrayed 
 herself ; that she had been able to keep herself from 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 263 
 
 screaming; for nothing less could have given vent 
 to her rage, her despair, her self-disgust, that she, 
 she alone, in all that great shining tier, among 
 those clear-faced, innocent-eyed, soft-voiced women, 
 whose brows seemed never to have gathered into a 
 frown over a moment s perplexity, missed the 
 pleasure of life ; that in spite of all her brilliance 
 and success, she alone was ill at ease. 
 
 She forced herself to renew all this crowd of 
 impressions, to disentangle from them what was 
 mere fright and nervousness, and look at the actual 
 situation. This appeal to cool reason gradually 
 restored her courage, and she experienced presently 
 a revulsion of feeling as strong in its way as her 
 first hysterical dread. 
 
 "I wonder," she said aloud then, " if he saw me." 
 She pondered this question a moment, then an 
 swered herself with decision, " No, he could not 
 have seen me." Next she asked herself, " Would 
 he have known me ? " 
 
 Half a dozen gas jets were turned up half way ; 
 she set them all blazing at their brightest, and mov 
 ing forward stood looking at herself in the great 
 mirror over the fireplace, all the light concentrated 
 upon her face and figure. 
 
 "My hair was yellow in those days," she said 
 thoughtfully. " It did not begin to turn dark until 
 I was married to Algernon." She regarded her 
 image, coquetry and love of domination awakening. 
 " I wonder," she said with a little triumphant laugh, 
 
264 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " what he would think of me now." The rich cloak, 
 still trailing from her shoulders, dropped to the 
 floor, and her figure stood revealed in its evening 
 gown of white uncut velvet trimmed with mara 
 bou. " I weighed one hundred and eight in those 
 days," she reflected, " now I weigh a hundred and 
 thirty-eight." 
 
 She turned from side to side to show to her own 
 admiring eye the supple curves of her waist, the 
 round whiteness of her neck and arms, the rosy 
 oval of her cheek. Yet even while she gazed criti 
 cally at the image thus presented, saying to herself 
 complacently that she was to all appearance as 
 youthful as ever, beyond a doubt handsomer than 
 ever in her life, to say nothing of being dressed to 
 perfection, some recollection or painful thought 
 smote her afresh and she stamped her foot, her 
 brow growing black and her eyes hard. 
 
 " I look like one of the Furies," she said, coolly 
 studying her change of features in the glass. " My 
 mother s face comes out when I get in a rage. 
 When I am old and ugly I shall look like her." 
 She smiled again. 
 
 But the stamp of her foot, even though the thud 
 had been muffled by the thick carpet, had roused 
 some one. There came a tap at the door. 
 
 "Who is it? " cried Bella as if sharply startled. 
 "Oh, is it you, Eugenia? I took it for granted 
 you were in bed." 
 
 " I lay down on my lounge. I was very tired 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 265 
 
 I heard you come in with Mr. Hartley, but I must 
 have fallen asleep, for I did not know that he had 
 gone. It was so late, and hearing only your voice 
 occasionally and then a sound as of something fall 
 ing, I thought it best to knock and inquire." 
 
 And Eugenia, holding her hand before her eyes 
 to keep off the dazzle of the lights, advanced a few 
 steps, fearfully and wonderfully clad in a gray 
 dressing-gown, and stared at Mrs. Hernandez with 
 curiosity. 
 
 " I was in a rage," said Bella flippantly, " and I 
 talked to myself and stamped about the room. 
 Had I felt sure you were awake, I should have gone 
 in to you." 
 
 " In a rage ? " repeated Eugenia blankly. 
 "With whom?" 
 
 " Not with you. In fact it was not exactly being 
 in a rage. Two sensations rushed together at once 
 and made a clap of thunder, I suppose. Something 
 startled me to-night. In all my life I was never so 
 frightened as I was for a few minutes. A singular 
 event has befallen me." 
 
 " Are you engaged to Mr. Hartley ? " 
 
 " Engaged to Mr. Hartley ? No." 
 
 " Have you refused him ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no. How romantic you are ! He 
 seemed also in rather a romantic frame of mind, 
 but I was not responsive, and he drew back. I was 
 not in a mood to pretend. I was completely taken 
 possession of by very different ideas. The future 
 
206 THE STORl OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 did not exist for me, I did not even think of the 
 present. It was the past, the past, what novels 
 call the inexorable past, that swallowed up all my 
 thoughts." 
 
 Something in her look and tone, excited and 
 rather reckless, startled Miss Shepard. She picked 
 up the cloak which Bella was treading under foot, 
 and, shaking out the fur, laid it across the arm of 
 the sofa. 
 
 " I wish you would tell me what has happened," 
 she said in a low, anxious voice. 
 
 44 1 have seen a ghost, a ghost out of my old 
 life. Actually, I did not suppose I was such a crea 
 ture of nerves, presentiments, terrors. For years 
 this thing has seemed to me like something happen 
 ing to another person. If some suggestion of it 
 did by chance present itself vividly, I would ex 
 claim, * Thank heaven, I am through that part of my 
 life ; it is dead and buried. But the moment I saw 
 him, I found I had forgotten nothing. I tingled 
 as if I heard old reproaches, accusations, bitter 
 sarcasms. People talk about our completely chan 
 ging every tissue of our bodies in seven years ; but 
 see that dent in my forehead, that came from a 
 fall from a half-tamed mustang when I was ten years 
 old. It is a part of me. Wounds heal over, but 
 we have to keep the scars as long as we live. What 
 we have lived through is a part of ourselves. It is 
 of no use trying to run away from an experience, 
 even to forget it. It is one s self. We cannot gov 
 ern fate." 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 267 
 
 Eugenia saw that Mrs. Hernandez was over 
 excited, nervously wrought up. 
 
 " I hate aphorisms, enigmas, riddles, at twelve 
 o clock at night, when I long to be in my bed," she 
 exclaimed. " I cannot keep up with your figures 
 of speech. Drop your Spanish proverbs and met 
 aphors, and if you have anything to say, put it 
 into clear English." 
 
 " Come into my room," said Bella. " I can be 
 taking off my things while I talk. Turn off the 
 gas." 
 
 Leaving Eugenia to extinguish the lights, Bella 
 went on to her own room, and at once made an 
 equal illumination there, before the three-fold mir 
 ror, which permitted her to study her own lovely 
 image from each point of view. To Eugenia, fol 
 lowing in her steps, and pausing at the door to 
 observe this proceeding, it seemed as if Mrs. Her 
 nandez were pitting her beauty against that of 
 some possible rival whom she longed to eclipse. 
 
 " You appear to be very much in love with your 
 self," Miss Shepard said sharply. 
 
 "I am," Bella returned, laughing. "I was 
 thinking that when I was nineteen I was a thin, sal 
 low creature. All my beauty was in the future." 
 
 " It is midnight and past," said Miss Shepard. 
 " I am indifferent to all the beauty of the three 
 goddesses rolled into one." 
 
 " Poor Eugenia," said Bella. She unclasped her 
 necklace and bracelets, drew out the diamond 
 
2G8 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 aigrette from her hair, and tossed them on the 
 toilet-table. " Give me my dressing-gown," she 
 said ; " I am stifled in this uncomfortable thing." 
 She unfastened the bodice, took off the dress and 
 flung it on the bed, nestling into the loose quilted 
 wrapper of dull red silk which Eugenia held up, 
 not buttoning it, but folding one lace-trimmed front 
 across the other, and clasping the two together at 
 the belt with her hands, as she sat down in a low 
 easy-chair before the fire of coals in the grate. 
 " Come and make yourself comfortable," she said, 
 in a tone of commiseration, as she glanced first at 
 her own reflection in the mirror, and then at that 
 of Eugenia, who was putting away the diamonds in 
 their cases, smoothing out the gloves, the lace 
 handkerchief, and hanging up the rich gown. It 
 put Bella into a better humor, simply to see her 
 own glowing beauty against the foil of her com 
 panion s plainness. 
 
 " This is cosy," she said, as Eugenia finally sat 
 down. "Now we can talk." She held out her 
 own little kid bottine to the fire, touching with its 
 pointed toe Eugenia s huge, shapeless, worsted 
 bedside slipper. 
 
 " You shall talk," said Eugenia briefly. " And 
 please talk to the purpose. I have nothing on 
 earth to say." 
 
 " I am ready to talk to the purpose. You 
 have heard me tell of the time when my father 
 kopt a boarding-house by the Whitehouse lode?" 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 269 
 
 Eugenia nodded with inward discomfiture that this 
 hideous reminiscence, instead of dwindling in remote 
 perspective, was to loom up closer. " When I used 
 to wait on the table ! Imagine me, Bella Brown, 
 nineteen years old, with a new pink calico dress one 
 July day, for the first time waiting on a young 
 man who, instead of swearing at me, or treating me 
 with vulgar freedom, looked at me with amazement, 
 seemed wretched at giving me trouble, and 
 finally turned a drunken fellow out of the room for 
 taking a liberty." 
 
 " This young man was " 
 
 "This young man had just arrived from the 
 East, he was a mining-chemist, an assayist, a 
 mineralogist." Bella paused. 
 
 " Well," said Eugenia. 
 
 " He fell in love with me, he fell in love on 
 the instant ; a week later we were engaged to be 
 married, and from that moment he would not per 
 mit me to w r ait on the table. He told my father it 
 was profanation ; he said I ought not to be per 
 mitted to hold the most distant intercourse with 
 the men who boarded at our house. It was not his 
 way to be slow about anything he undertook. Just 
 after the first of August we were married, and I 
 went to live in my own house, a mile away from 
 the Whitehouse." 
 
 " What was this young man s name ? " inquired 
 Miss Shepard, with an air of singular precision. 
 
 " Lawrence Garthe." 
 
270 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GsLRTHE. 
 
 " Never in all my life before have I heard you 
 make an allusion to Lawrence Garthe." 
 
 " Probably not," said Bella coolly. " There are 
 some things a woman is not inclined to talk about. 
 But now I will confide to you the fact that 
 Lawrence Garthe was my first husband." 
 
 " I supposed Colonel Iligby was your first hus 
 band." 
 
 " No ; Lawrence Garthe. It is only the first 
 step that counts, they say, and judging, by my sen 
 sations to-night, one s first marriage is more im 
 pressive than any later one can be." 
 
 " Why did you never tell me this before ? " said 
 Eugenia almost wildly. "Before I consented to 
 join you, I told you I wanted to hear the truth, the 
 whole truth, and nothing but the truth." 
 
 " The whole truth is a large, deep, and difficult 
 thing to tackle sometimes," said Bella, who now 
 fairly embarked in her narrative seemed to be in 
 absolute high spirits. " I told you that I had been 
 married to Colonel Iligby, then, as he had in every 
 way disappointed my expectations, not only having 
 no money, but in having every bad habit, I pro 
 cured a divorce from him. You said you could 
 not blame me. You know that I then married 
 Aurelio Hernandez. That seemed sufficient for the 
 moment." 
 
 " Did this Lawrence Garthe die ? " demanded 
 Miss Shepard. 
 
 " On the contrary, he is alive and here in New 
 York." 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 271 
 
 " Did you part ? " 
 
 "No doubt we parted." 
 
 " Were you divorced ? " 
 
 " We were divorced. That is, I obtained a 
 divorce on the ground of desertion. You may have 
 observed that on the first day of every month I re 
 ceive a check for one hundred and fifty dollars. 
 He has to pay me that amount as long as I live." 
 
 " Did he really desert you ? " 
 
 " He really deserted me." 
 
 " Somehow," said Eugenia restlessly, " I do not 
 quite believe you, although you usually tell some 
 fragment of the truth." 
 
 Bella flung back her head and laughed. 
 
 " I admit," she said frankly, " there were some 
 ins and outs to the story. It burns in my memory 
 to-night, I must tell it; I was almost inclined 
 to pour it out to Ferdinand Hartley. I can think 
 of nothing else, I can see nothing else, it is like 
 a fire on a dark night. You can t begin to think 
 how, at the sight of him, everything belonging to 
 that time surged over me; it was like a flood. 
 And after all, though so much has happened since, 
 it was less than nine years ago ! He was little more 
 than a boy then, he is young still. I was a 
 saucy young girl, on the lookout for a lover who 
 was to be the handsomest and richest fellow on that 
 side of the slope. He had a fair salary, but there 
 were plenty of men fifty times richer ; but what I 
 saw in him I had seen in nobody else. He was so 
 
272 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 calm, so strong, so wise. All the men looked up to 
 him as if he had been a being of a different order." 
 
 44 And he fell in love with you ! " 
 
 44 Strange as it may appear to you, Eugenia, this 
 being of a superior order fell in love with me. In 
 a month we were married, lie built a little house, 
 quite a palace for those parts, with five rooms in it, 
 and we went to housekeeping, with a Chinaman for 
 help." 
 
 44 Were you happy? Were you in love wit ! 
 him?" 
 
 44 I was flattered out of my senses. I supposed 
 that I was madly in love. Happy ? I expected to 
 die of happiness." 
 
 44 Evidently, I see you were n t happy." 
 
 44 Have I not told you over and over that I am 
 a true modern woman, that I can t be happy or 
 contented except at odd moments ? I felt very 
 proud of my capture. I had a handsome, adoring 
 young husband. He believed in me, thought I 
 could do anything, be anything. He wanted to 
 develop me. He set about teaching me. His idea 
 of enjoyment was to come home at night, read 
 aloud to me, or have me read aloud to him until ten 
 o clock ; then when I had gone to bed, get out his 
 books and work until midnight or later. Some 
 times he was too busy at the mines to come home at 
 all. Oh, that first winter ! Our Chinaman fell ill 
 and had to go away. The snows piled up. It was 
 so cold that bread, meat, eggs, were solid ice, had 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 273 
 
 to be broken with an axe. There were days when 
 Lawrence and I were shut up together as if in a 
 little world of our own. inside the real world. He 
 studied, he experimented, he read to me, he talked. 
 He was brimful of wonder, of speculation, of 
 theory, of ideas that moved him out of himself, over 
 things that were to me nothing but odd-looking 
 stones, or queer-smelling vapors. It was not my 
 idea of what was an interesting life, I can assure 
 you. I grew so tired of it all, I used finally to 
 put my hands to my ears. He used to gaze at me 
 at such times, as if he were heartbroken. Then he 
 tried other diversions. But a spell was upon me ; 
 I was restless, discontented, rebellious. What 
 did I want? he would ask, kneeling before me some 
 times. Was not love, companionship, hope, enough 
 for me? Had I not my baby-clothes to make, 
 and when I tired of sewing, had I not his society, 
 books, portfolios of photographs, a cabinet of 
 curious minerals? I was as incomprehensible to 
 him as he was incomprehensible to me. He used 
 to say he should like a whole week s leisure, just to 
 sit and look at the mountain peaks where they met 
 the sky ; and I remember once assuring him that I 
 hated the mountains, hated the sky, that every 
 thing I saw above, around, below, seemed to me 
 prison- walls, which I longed to break through. He 
 did not, he could not understand that I found it 
 dull, just dull, that I missed the old life at home 
 with its hard work, its noise, bustle, and variety. 
 
274 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 At home there was always news ; something had 
 happened, somebody had struck a new vein ; 
 somebody had picked up a rich nugget ; there had 
 been a fight, a railway accident, something to 
 think about and talk about. Then all the men who 
 came and went at our house had a word for me, a 
 joke, a compliment, a present. I liked them, rough 
 as they were, but had turned my back on them for the 
 sake of a slim, elegant young fellow who was furious 
 if one of my old cronies ventured to approach me. 
 What I lived on, he loathed. . . . Then the baby 
 came!" 
 
 -You had a child!" 
 
 " Oh, yes, a little boy named after his father. 
 What a frightful ordeal ! Then what a bondage ! 
 You talk about the wrongs of women, Eugenia, but 
 you don t know how cruelly we are treated, not 
 alone by man but by Nature. Before the child 
 was born, I had exuberant health and no occupations 
 to expend it on. I ha4 complained at first of 
 having nothing to do after I was married. I assure 
 you, I had plenty to occupy me after the child 
 came. My own health was spoiled then. I had 
 no experience, and more than once the little 
 creature almost died of cramp or croup or colic. I 
 could n t get hold of a respectable woman to help 
 me nurse him, and Lawrence was, oh, so deadly 
 particular, that a woman who was not respectable 
 must not be allowed to contaminate me. That hus 
 band of mine seemed as soft as silk, but where the 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 275 
 
 baby was concerned he held me to my duties with 
 a clutch like iron. It seemed to me he no longer 
 cared for me ; he seemed to have no thought of 
 what / liked, of what I wished. I was simply in 
 his eyes the mother, the nurse of his boy ! My 
 strength came back, and then things grew even more 
 insupportable. There I was, only twenty years old, 
 with the blood bubbling in my veins like cham 
 pagne, longing day after day for something to 
 break the silence, the tedium. I used to beg him 
 to live in a town or a city, some place where I 
 might find human companionship, something inter 
 esting to do. What would you do if you could ? 
 he asked one day when I was pouring out com 
 plaints. I replied that I had an individual life to 
 lead, that I was no mere appendage to him and the 
 child ; that I wanted and needed and demanded a 
 career of my own, just as he wanted a career for 
 himself. Why should I not tell him it was his 
 first duty in life to stay at home and mind the 
 baby? 
 
 " He looked at me, I can see him now with his 
 brow all in a pucker. Then he said in a low voice, 
 Ever since I was ten years old I have been at 
 work. It has been dig, dig, dig, with me ; first to 
 find out where it was best to take hold, then how 
 to take hold, and then to set myself doggedly at 
 the task. I wanted to make my own living ; but 
 more than that, I wanted the happiness, the 
 stimulus, the emancipation of a real knowledge of 
 
276 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 my profession. I have gone on so far, but I have 
 no intention of remaining fixed forever in one 
 groove. I told him I was glad to hear that, for I 
 had feared he loved the rut he was in for its own 
 sake. I asked him to go to Francisco, or some 
 place on the coast. 
 
 u He stared at me and said he needed his salary 
 to buy clothes for me and the boy, to feed us, to 
 give us a home. He said he needed to study hard, 
 or other men better equipped than himself would 
 push him out of his place. I told him that if we 
 went to some city I could earn money to support 
 myself, that I should be glad to do so ; that I 
 liked work, that in old days at home with hard 
 work to do and plenty to see and think about, I 
 had never been discontented or unhappy. You 
 should have seen the scorn he flashed out at me, 
 that I was pining for the society of the uncouth, 
 unwashed crowd he had saved me from, half of 
 them thieves and gamblers, some of them mur 
 derers, ready to settle any brawl with a stab or 
 pistol shot. . . . He could pour out angry re 
 proaches, bitter sarcasms, but then he was sure to 
 melt. He used to make me feel, at times, that 
 unless I could become as good, as sweet and noble 
 as he wanted me to be, he should die of grief, of 
 shame, of humiliation. What he would not, what 
 he could not understand was that I was myself, 
 that by my own heart, lungs, brain, muscles, and 
 nerves I had to feel, think, act; that by no 
 
BELLA S STEANGE EXPERIENCE. 277 
 
 virtue of his heart, brain, muscles, nerves, could I 
 live for a day, and that I could no more absorb his 
 spiritual than his material essence." 
 
 She paused and looked at Eugenia, who sat 
 huddling for warmth over the fire, her eyes almost 
 closed, her face drawn and lifeless. 
 
 " Of course you agree with me, Eugenia," she 
 said. " I am echoing words you have spoken 
 again and again." 
 
 " Words I have spoken ? " Eugenia repeated as 
 if aghast. 
 
 " I have heard you say in private and in public 
 that a woman has just the same right to seek free 
 play for her powers and faculties as a man ; that 
 no more essential reason exists for her being a 
 slave to domesticity than for his being a slave." 
 
 "I go with you part way," said Eugenia in a 
 harsh voice, " but I should be a fool if I did not 
 accept the fact that so long as the world is to last 
 women must bear children, and that " 
 
 " I have heard you say that a woman has a right 
 to make her choice, to " 
 
 "But you made your choice," cried Eugenia 
 sharply. " You married a good man who loved 
 you, you promised yourself to him for better or 
 for worse." 
 
 " There was no choice in the matter. I was a 
 mere child. I was surprised, flattered, carried 
 away by novelty, my father considered it a 
 great chance for me to marry Lawrence Garthe. 
 
278 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Before I had time to analyze my own real wishes 
 and inclinations I was shut up in a cabin with a 
 man whose ideas of everything in existence were 
 the exact opposite of my own, who believed that 
 in making me his wife he put his own private seal 
 on each one of my thoughts, feelings, cravings, and 
 passions. No, I did not exercise my right of free 
 choice at all, or I should never have chosen him. 
 lie soon found out that he could not make me his 
 willing slave, a docile little creature with no 
 mind, heart, or will of her own, content to sit 
 admiringly echoing each of his opinions." She 
 gave a little low laugh. " The odd thing was," 
 she added, " that with his growing knowledge of 
 what I had in me, he should have let me go out 
 of his sight/ 
 
 " What happened ? " demanded Miss Shepard 
 almost fiercely. 
 
 " He was already jealous of everything and of 
 everybody ; he might have known that " 
 
 " What happened ? " said Miss Shepard with an 
 impatient gesture. Bella drew a long, deep 
 breath. 
 
 " He had to go to Alaska. I begged to go 
 along, but he would not take me. He said that 
 he must have three or four men with him, and that 
 it was no party for a woman to join/ She 
 stopped short, put her hand to her breast, and 
 again, as if stifled, drew in that long, deep breath. 
 " But I felt all the time," she went on in a soft, 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 279 
 
 clear tone, " that the actual reason was that, as the 
 boy was too young to be left, he considered it my 
 duty to stay and take care of him." 
 
 " How old was the child ? " 
 
 " Fifteen months. I could have left him per 
 fectly well with Mrs. Fraser, who came to stay 
 with me." She gave a shuddering little laugh. 
 " In fact I did leave him with her." 
 
 " Who was Mrs. Fraser ? " 
 
 "The wife of the superintendent." Bella was 
 leaning forward and looking into the fire. 
 
 " Tell me what happened," said Eugenia. 
 
 " It was horrible, being left," said Bella dream 
 ily. " We were on the mountain slope. I could 
 not sleep at night, it was so eerie. There were 
 strange noises, something used to come and 
 howl outside." 
 
 She paused and looked up at Eugenia with an 
 expression half appealing. 
 
 "What happened?" demanded Eugenia in 
 flexibly. 
 
 Again Bella drew in that long shuddering 
 breath. 
 
 " He was to have been gone from six to eight 
 weeks. He came back at the end of four, and, as 
 it turned out, I was not there." 
 
 " Where were you ? " 
 
 " You need not be so fierce. I simply took a 
 little outing. I needed a little amusement. There 
 was no great harm done. It was his coming back 
 
280 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 unexpectedly, finding Mrs. Fraser taking care of 
 the boy, pressing inquiries upon her, then following 
 up the clue she gave, which did the mischief. It 
 was not alone Mrs. Fraser, everybody had been 
 watching, it seems, and had some dreadful story to 
 pour into his ears. Meantime I heard that he had 
 returned. I knew that it would all seem horrible 
 to him, that each little indiscretion, rebellion, 
 and naughtiness of mine would now be to him a 
 
 O 
 
 sure index pointing to sin. I have said that he 
 was jealous, and the instant a man is jealous, jeal 
 ousy teaches him base suspicion, outrageous conjec 
 ture. What do you suppose Lawrence did ? " 
 
 Eugenia, with her chin dropped, her eyes raised 
 and fixed like those of one suffering mortal pain, 
 was cowering in her chair. She did not speak. 
 
 " He resigned his position at the mines, took 
 the boy, and vanished," said Bella, looking down 
 at the tips of her pointed toes. " So after a time 
 I applied for a divorce on the ground of deser 
 tion." 
 
 Perhaps dismayed by her companion s silence 
 she looked at her. 
 
 " Are you asleep, Eugenia ? " she asked. 
 
 " No," said Eugenia in a dull suffering voice. 
 
 " How does it all strike you ? " 
 
 Eugenia seemed, as if by hard effort, to pull 
 herself together. 
 
 " Why did you never tell me this story before ? " 
 she faltered. 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 281 
 
 " It all happened long ago," said Bella calmly. 
 44 1 got my case, and, 011 promising to give up all 
 claim to my child, I was granted one hundred and 
 fifty dollars a month alimony. So you see I was 
 left entirely free." 
 
 " Free ! Good God ! You call that freedom ? " 
 
 " Had he not left me neither maid, wife, nor 
 widow ? He owed me something." 
 
 " What was his plea ! What was his justifica 
 tion?" 
 
 " He was already in Europe. He left his case 
 to the lawyers. He made no accusation, he put up 
 no defense. All he asked for was to have full 
 possession of the child. We might have made 
 him pay more if we had insisted, but we did not 
 realize our own strength." 
 
 Eugenia gazed at her with a strange anxiety. 
 
 " I m afraid," she whispered, " there was some 
 thing behind all this." 
 
 Bella shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " There certainly was," she said with composure. 
 " You may as well be a rational woman, a woman 
 of the world. When there is a scandal about a 
 woman there is apt to be a man behind it." 
 
 " Oh, great heavens ! " 
 
 " I was married to him, I was married to him 
 the very day I could legally marry him, if that is 
 your apprehension," said Bella. "It was all a 
 horrible mistake, the great mistake of my life. 
 I was wretchedly taken in." 
 
282 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " Was it Colonel Higby ?" inquired Eugenia, as 
 if with a faint hope that she was regaining depths 
 already plumbed. 
 
 "No, his name was Algernon Danvers-Carr. 
 He was an Englishman, his grandfather was a 
 baronet. lie had drifted away from civilized life 
 and made himself a career in the West. When I 
 knew him he was a horse-breaker." 
 
 " A horse-breaker ! " 
 
 " You may be horrified, but it is a very good 
 profession out among those great ranches, and I 
 assure you it is rather a fascinating experience to 
 see a handsome fellow break in blooded colts and 
 wild mustangs. I myself had a taste for riding 
 and I used to help him, that was at first, before 
 I myself had been broken in to harness. Oh, 
 let us talk of something pleasanter." 
 
 "Did you have a divorce from him too?" 
 
 " No, he was shot in a fight at Evan s ; by ac 
 cident, they pretended." 
 
 Eugenia had hidden her face in her hands. 
 
 " Now you have my whole history," said Bella, 
 " and it is easy to see that you despise me." She 
 had seen a little trembling shiver pass over the 
 recumbent figure. " I realize too late," she con 
 tinued, " that I have been too candid. I ought, if 
 not to have suppressed it, at least to have glossed 
 it over. But I did believe, Eugenia, that you 
 upheld your sex, stood by them through thick and 
 thin, when they were left to fight their own battle. 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 283 
 
 You theorize very well, but your practice is not 
 worth a button. You draw back frightened when 
 a woman acts on the propaganda you proclaim. 
 Now I, at least, have the courage of my opin 
 ions." 
 
 " If you had told me your true histtfry when we 
 first met ! " said Eugenia with a sort of desperation. 
 
 " I did tell you I had had two husbands. After 
 all, I have had only four." 
 
 u So far, you are thinking of another," said 
 Eugenia, guiltless of sarcasm, merely stating a 
 fact. 
 
 " Yes, I am thinking of another." Bella 
 laughed slightly as she spoke, but at the same time 
 gave a little shudder and bent over the fire. 
 " You need not suppose," she added hastily, " that 
 I am utterly callous. I have more history than I 
 like to admit. I don t so much mind the actual 
 fact, as the being laughed at, for it is absurd. 
 Sometimes when I am in high spirits I laugh at 
 myself. I heard a story once of a man who had 
 four wives, and buried one at each corner of his 
 lot in the cemetery, while he erected his own tomb 
 in the centre, with a hand pointing from each of his 
 wives graves towards the words Our husband. " 
 
 She burst into shrill laughter. 
 
 " What will the woman not laugh at ? " mut 
 tered Eugenia. 
 
 " Two are dead and two are alive," said Bella 
 in an odd voice, " and one of them is living here 
 
284 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 in New York, with my little boy, the only child 
 I have in the world/ 
 
 " Your little boy ! " ejaculated Eugenia. " I 
 had n t thought of that." 
 
 u Yes, my little boy. I had a little girl by my 
 second husband, she died when she was six 
 months old. She was a beautiful little creature," 
 Bella said in a dreamy voice. u I want to see 
 what my boy is like." 
 
 " You gave him up, you gave him up for 
 money." 
 
 " That does not alter the fact of his being my 
 own child," said Bella calmly. " I do not pretend 
 to possess overwhelming maternal instincts ; still 
 one s child is one s child, and a mother must feel a 
 certain amount of curiosity." She gazed medita 
 tively into the fire. " I saw Lawrence quite 
 plainly," she added after a few moments silence. 
 tk He is scarcely any older, and if anything he is 
 handsomer than he was. He did not look un 
 happy. Unhappy, I should think not ! Ferdinand 
 Hartley says that he is well off, if not rich, that 
 he is in love with that Mrs. Garner we have seen, 
 you remember her, Eugenia, a rather pretty, 
 faded-out creature, graceful manners, but 
 She broke off. "After all," she said in a different 
 tone, "it is I who have had to pay, not he." 
 
 " Who breaks pays," said Eugenia. 
 
 " I can afford to pay," said Bella insolently. 
 " And after all I have not done so badly. To 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 285 
 
 compare myself with what I was when I set out 
 ought to encourage me to go on living." She 
 laughed. " Here I am living in luxury. I can 
 marry a young man of good family and position, 
 handsome, highly educated, who is used to having 
 everything that is best in life. I am vouched for 
 by one of the prominent women of the day " 
 
 "A blind leader of the blind," muttered Eu 
 genia. 
 
 " A woman," continued Bella, mimicking the 
 tone and words of a presiding officer who had 
 the day before introduced Miss Shepard at a con 
 vention of notables, " who is preaching the new 
 crusade, who is declaring the new evangel." 
 
 " It is not true," cried Eugenia excitedly, her 
 voice rising to a half-suppressed shriek. " I do not 
 preach the crusade of women who break every tie, 
 disregard every obligation, who are true to no 
 thing." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Bella mockingly, " I have been 
 true to myself." 
 
 " To your wild, reckless impulse, to " 
 
 "Don t preach. As a mere matter of taste I 
 might have preferred a pleasanter road without 
 dust, stones, mire, but I had to do what I* 
 could. I was not born in the purple, my oppor 
 tunities did not come to me ready-made. Whatever 
 I have been through, at last I have arrived, and I 
 am glad that I am what I am, that I shall 
 always be I, Bella Brown, and nobody else." 
 
286 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Miss Shepard moaned drearily. 
 
 " You are quite worn out, Eugenia. You had 
 better go to bed," said Bella with commiseration. 
 " These late hours tell on your spirits and temper, 
 and your good looks suffer. I assure you they do. 
 Go to bed. Shall I give you a glass of port 
 wine ? " 
 
 " No, thank you." Eugenia rose stiffly and stood 
 for a moment looking down at the other with a 
 grim face. 
 
 " Kiss me good-night," said Bella imperiously. 
 " I m no worse than I was twenty-four hours ago, 
 and then you seemed downright fond of me." 
 
 Eugenia stooped and pressed an arid kiss on the 
 rosy cheek, then stalked out of the room without 
 another word. 
 
 The fire was low, but Bella sat bending over it 
 for half an hour yet. She had lived through so 
 many conditions of mind and body, so separate 
 and so distinct, that each seemed to represent a 
 different identity ; but at this moment the tingle 
 and the thrill of old feelings, sensations, and 
 experiences, were all related to Lawrence Garthe. 
 Floating, scattered threads of memory and asso 
 ciation were re-gathered and re-woven into one 
 single picture. She felt as if there must be some 
 way of paying him a part of the debt she owed him. 
 The quick thumping of her heart had returned. 
 Her blood moved in a livelier current than her 
 intellect ; but at intervals some intimation of pos* 
 
BELLA S STRANGE EXPERIENCE. 287 
 
 sible action darted across her mind like lightning 
 playing on the edge of a dull, immoving cloud. 
 
 After a time, tired of ineffectual wrestling with 
 what constantly vanished into impalpability the 
 moment she touched it, she yawned, stretched out 
 her arms, and rose. Half a dozen jets of gas were 
 still blazing, and threw a dazzling reflection of her 
 image into the glass as she turned. She stood 
 still, regarding herself, her thoughts gaining co 
 herence, and some clear intention gathering force. 
 The expression of her eyes and lips suggested that 
 she was mentally rehearsing a drama in which some 
 man had to play his part against her, and by her 
 smile, touched with irony and disdain, she seemed 
 to win. Apparently she developed her scheme 
 quite to her own liking, for once or twice, while 
 she was undressing, she uttered a little peal of mis 
 chievous laughter, and even after she was in bed, 
 her cheek against the pillow and her lithe figure 
 nestled in an attitude of complete repose under 
 sheets and blankets, there came again that peal 
 of laughter, evidently the effervescence of some 
 aspiration, hope, or resolution welling up joyfully 
 within her. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 GARTHE AND LARRY. 
 
 THE first face Garthe saw in the morning when 
 he opened his eyes was certain to be his little son s. 
 Larry would come rushing down the stairs as soon 
 as he was awake, to make sure that his father was 
 in his bed. He sprang into the extended arms 
 with a cry of joy ; he pressed kisses upon the lips, 
 the cheeks, the eyelids, the temples, of the calm, 
 faintly smiling face. The boy had a hundred little 
 comidences to pour into the willing ears. At the 
 mere sight of his father a dozen sensations rushed 
 together at once, and sometimes made such a knot 
 in his throat that he had, in spite of being so happy, 
 to burst out crying. He loved his father so much ; 
 he was so proud of him ; he longed so to be beloved 
 by him, to be a joy, to be clever, to be good, in order 
 to please him; above all, to get close, very close, 
 and to hug him ! The same outburst of feeling 
 took place when Garthe came home before dinner. 
 The man seemed sometimes rather to undergo these 
 caresses than to answer them, but if passive he was 
 not cold. Something in his vivid look, in his half 
 smile, in the strong clasp of his arms, would thrill 
 the little fellow with a delicious ecstasy of feeling. 
 
GAETHE AND LAEEY. 289 
 
 " You love me, you do love me dearly, don t you, 
 papa ? " Larry would say with intense satisfaction 
 as he curled into his father s embrace and nestled 
 close within the encircling pressure. 
 
 Then Garthe would give a little nod, or woidd 
 say, " Oh yes, my little son, papa loves you." 
 
 It was this joy in loving, this necessity of being 
 beloved, which gave Garthe a fuller insight into 
 what new faculties, what deeper happiness, Con 
 stance might bring into Larry s life. Nothing 
 Garthe could have urged in his own behalf could 
 have smitten him with the same tenderness as this 
 realization of Larry s need of a mother. The 
 chief constituent of Garthe s own mind had so long 
 been a stoical acceptance of his lot, he could 
 hardly believe in his own right to expect happiness. 
 Not sorrow but joy seemed incongruous where he 
 himself was concerned. Within reach of Constance, 
 he was nothing if not a passionate lover ; but often 
 enough, when alone over his own fire at midnight, 
 this impulse towards the sweetest woman he had 
 ever seen was apt to seem a waste of aspiration, in 
 complete and always to be incomplete ; his ardor 
 rather something to be conquered than permitted ; 
 his hope rather to be crucified than crowned. This 
 was when he thought simply of his wish to have her 
 as his wife ; as Larry s mother, his hope to bring 
 her to his lonely house became resolution, and his 
 faith in a happy future an active force. He liked, 
 accordingly, to image to himself Larry s little curly 
 
290 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 head against Constance s shoulder ; her arm about 
 him, her pure proud face rising above his. He 
 carried this mental picture about with him so con 
 stantly that presently it became an inexhaustible 
 resource to think of Constance forever close to 
 Larry. As the boy ran down the stairs, was she 
 not somewhere behind him, like the child all thrill 
 ing and expectant with a soft glance of welcome in 
 her eyes ? At table Garthe could imagine her across 
 the board, and in twilight or firelight, when 
 Larry perched on his knee and chattered of his 
 playmates, of his teacher, the pictures he had drawn, 
 the horse he had modeled, she was near, quiet to 
 all seeming, yet instinct with life ; only a reaching 
 out of the hand, a touch, was necessary. Often 
 enough, as Garthe took his little son in his arms 
 now-a-days, he felt the weight of the little body with 
 a thrill which awoke a strange gush of tenderness. 
 One Sunday afternoon in February, Garthe told 
 Larry he woidd give him a lesson in skating ; and, 
 setting out, they walked across the park to a quiet 
 little pond. It was a day of crystalline clearness. 
 It had first rained, then frozen, the night before, 
 and the trees and shrubs were covered with a shin 
 ing white crust. Every thicket was transformed 
 into a fairy grotto ; icicles glittered on the statues. 
 From every object was reflected prismatic light. 
 The whole park was alive. An incessant stream 
 of sleighs of every shape, with gayly decked horses, 
 glided rapidly along the drives, which were lined 
 
GAETHE AND LAEEY. 291 
 
 with a crowd of lookers-on enjoying the glitter, the 
 stir, the melody of the bells. Larry was in high 
 glee. They found a quiet nook ; his father fastened 
 on his skates, then, supporting him, bore him about 
 on wings, as it were, until he gained courage. 
 Timid at first, the little fellow gradually became 
 assured. Still grasping his father s arm, he could 
 venture to strike out, almost independently. Fi 
 nally Garthe himself put on a pair of skates, took 
 the boy by the hand, and off they skated together ! 
 How fast they went, thought Larry, how smooth, 
 how pleasant, how swift the motion ! It was like 
 flying! He believed he could fly by himself, and 
 he begged his father to trust him to his own wings. 
 Oh, what an awkward tumble ! 
 
 "I am safest with you, papa," cried Larry. 
 " Don t let me go alone any more." 
 
 Garthe was almost as happy as the boy himself. 
 It was one of those days when a stimulating, vital 
 izing quality in the air gives a man possession of 
 his whole strength ; when exercise brings a sense 
 of refreshment, of mental and physical equipoise. 
 The thought of Constance did not leave him. 
 Everything seemed easy. Any reason for hesita 
 tion, for delay, would soon be over. Kathy would 
 incline towards Mr. Marchmont ; if not, she could 
 live with Constance and himself. Practical ques 
 tions took their places along with others. He 
 would buy the Garner house on Lexington Avenue, 
 and present it to Constance on their wedding day. 
 
292 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 He could afford the outlay, and it would be a plea 
 sure to save his wife any wrench away from her 
 lifelong associations. This feeling of conferring a 
 benefit, of making her way clearer, seemed to just 
 ify his course, if it needed justification. To-day he 
 did not deny himself the joy of counting assuredly 
 upon a happy future. 
 
 The sun was low. The rays struck horizontally 
 across the landscape, setting a warm halo round 
 the blonde heads of the boys and girls on the ice. 
 
 " Come, Larry, we must go home," he said. 
 
 The boy looked up, his eyes full of light, his 
 mind running over with impressions of his joy in 
 his new skates, the crisp air, the sounds of life, the 
 moving masses of color, the joy of being with his 
 father. 
 
 "Oh, don t go home yet, papa," he cried. 
 " There s nothing at home." 
 
 " Oh yes, there ? s supper, and a fire, and a bed, 
 said Garthe. He took off the little fellow s skates, 
 although he constantly implored : 
 
 " Oh, dearest, best papa, not yet." 
 
 " There comes the moon," said Garthe. " It is 
 full to-night, and rises just as the sun sets." 
 
 In the west, although the red disk had sunk 
 bfclow the horizon, broken fiery rays lighted up the 
 sky. In the east, behind the frozen pond which 
 gleamed steely blue, and the trees on the knoll 
 which stood out clearly, some of their branches 
 still imprisoning in their icicles the hues of the 
 
GAETHE AND LARRY. 293 
 
 siaiset, floated up the golden moon. They walked 
 towards it. 
 
 " When I was a little fellow of your age," said 
 Garthe, " I had a brother just two years older. It 
 was he who taught me how to skate. We used also 
 to coast together down a long, long hill. While I 
 had him with me to climb to the top again I did 
 not mind how high that hill was. But Benny fell 
 ill ; so ill that I had to sit quietly about the house and 
 make no noise, simply wait, wait, wait for some 
 body to come out of the room and tell me how he 
 was. They would not let me go in, although more 
 than once I heard him calling me. When finally 
 I was admitted, he lay still, very still. He was 
 dressed in white, and his hands, which had used to 
 be red, chubby, rough, and not over clean, were white 
 and slender. After that, when I had to climb up 
 the long hill with my sled all alone, I used to feel 
 my eyes smart and a lump in my throat. The wind 
 was so cold, and I was so lonely ! " 
 
 " But what became of Benny, papa ? " 
 
 " You see, dear, he had died." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! " cried Larry, his little face puck 
 ering. 
 
 " Yes, it was very sad, very miserable. Before 
 then there had been mamma, Benny, and me. 
 After that I had only mamma." 
 
 " You had no papa ? " 
 
 " No, he died when I was three years old." 
 
 " I m glad you did n t die, papa," said Larry, 
 
294 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTUE. 
 
 trying to assert his own good fortune against all 
 these reasons for despair. 
 
 " By-and-by, after tea," said Garthe, " I will tell 
 you how dear my mamma was to me, how 
 precious it was to have a mamma. You may tell 
 Amelia that she and Button can both go to church. 
 I will put you to bed myself." 
 
 Delightful promise ! To be left to his father s 
 sole care was invariably to have some wonderfully 
 satisfying experience. They had dined early, and 
 for tea had a cold roast chicken, and marmalade. 
 Larry had been out in the cool crisp air ; he had 
 used his muscles unwontedly; he had been very 
 hungry ; he had eaten his fill ; he had drunk two 
 whole cups of hot milk. He sat perfectly happy, 
 looking with love and longing at his father, who 
 began, oddly enough, to seem very, very far off. 
 
 " Asleep, are you, already ? " somebody said to 
 him ; and, strange to relate, it was his father, who, 
 instead of dwindling at the end of a long lighted 
 perspective, was here, close beside him. 
 
 " Oh no, papa," Larry replied ; " not asleep at 
 all." 
 
 " I had better put you to bed at once." 
 
 " Oh no, I m wide awake," said Larry ; then 
 presently, on opening his eyes, discovered that he 
 was in his father s arms and that they were both 
 before the fire in the library. 
 
 " Now I say, sleepy boy," Garthe was saying, 
 " how should you like it if you had a mother of 
 
GARTHE AND LARRY. 295 
 
 your own sitting just there? A beautiful, young 
 mamma, who would love you, love you dearly, 
 call you her own little boy ? " 
 
 It was this question which roused Larry, unglued 
 his eyelids, and released him from the spell of dim, 
 fantastic fancies. 
 
 "Just there in that chair?" he asked, turning 
 and staring hard at the spot. 
 
 " Yes, just there, in that pretty chair. Do you 
 want to know what she would be like ? She 
 would have beautiful dark eyes which speak without 
 her saying a word, and the sweetest smile you ever 
 saw. She would have on a pretty gown, a gown 
 you would never tire of looking at and admiring. 
 There would be rings on the fingers of her soft 
 white hands. She would hold out her arms to you ; 
 you would run and jump into her lap. She would 
 put her cheek against yours, and let you nestle 
 against her shoulder and go to sleep if you chose." 
 
 " Oh, papa," said Larry, blushing and dimpling, 
 " I should be wide awake. I should n t want to go 
 to sleep." 
 
 " You would like it, then, having a dear mamma 
 there ? " 
 
 " Oh, very much," said Larry. " Would she really 
 be my mother ? I thought I had n t got any 
 mother." 
 
 " God is good," said Garthe devoutly. " He 
 gives us what we need. I have been a solitary 
 man, you have been a lonely little boy. He is 
 
296 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 going to make it up to us. You will be a good son 
 to this dear lady, Larry? You will be obedient, 
 loving, anxious to please her ? " 
 
 " Oh, papa, I will give her everything I have got 
 in the world." He closed his eyes the better to 
 enumerate his riches to himself with which he was 
 to endow her. She should have Fido, Mou-mou, 
 his music-box, his animated toys. . . . He hears a 
 low laugh, and experiences a gentle pinch on his 
 cheek. He is quite sure he is not asleep. He can 
 hear the dear familiar voice, he can feel the warm, 
 gentle hand on his hair. He perceives, as in a golden 
 mist, a whole new world of things, and feels ecstati 
 cally happy. The voice murmurs and murmurs on. 
 Somebody is laughing again. There is an odd sen 
 sation of being upborne. The air is cooler. Is he 
 flying ? Has he somehow found wings ? Again he 
 nestles close against something soft and warm, and 
 feels the pressure of a loving cheek against his own. 
 A hand takes his so tenderly that Larry seizes it in 
 both his and carries it to his lips, which fasten to it 
 drowsily like a bee to a flower. Suddenly he is 
 wide awake. " Oh, is it you, papa ? " he asks in 
 credulously. " I thought perhaps it was mamma." 
 
 " Not yet," Garthe replies, laughing. " Such a 
 sleepy boy ! Keep awake until I get your things 
 off." 
 
 " It was n t a dream, papa?" Larry murmurs, 
 sitting up, rubbing his eyes, and looking round his 
 bedroom. " She will come." 
 
GAETHE AND LAEEY. 297 
 
 "Yes, please God, she will come." 
 
 lie huddles into his nightgown. His father 
 gathers him into his arms and clasps him passion 
 ately. 
 
 " Oh, I love you, papa," the little fellow says. 
 
 " Kneel down and say, Please, dear God, bless 
 papa, bless mamma, make me a good boy. " 
 
 " Please, dear God, bless papa, bless mamma, 
 make me a good boy." 
 
 "For Jesus Christ s sake, amen." 
 
 " For Jesus Christ s sake, amen." 
 
 He loves his father and this blessed encircling 
 vision of a beautiful mother so dearly that his eyes 
 run over. Still he is fast asleep on his knees. 
 . . . He is tumbling into his bed, again very wide 
 awake. It occurs to him suddenly that he must 
 have his Swiss cow, that one that moves her head 
 and tinkles the little silver bell at her throat, to 
 go to sleep with. It is, indeed, quite essential, for 
 that cow never likes to be left alone all night. 
 Garthe hunts high, hunts low, finds the creature, 
 and tucks it into a corner of the pillow. 
 
 " And mamma is really coming ? " Larry tries 
 to say, but the effort is beyond his power. He feels 
 kisses on his brow, on his temples, on his lips, and 
 sinks to sleep encompassed and infolded in a con 
 sciousness of some great, overwhelming joy. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SUNDAY EVENING. 
 
 " A WOMAN may be old," said Mrs. Challoner, 
 " a woman may think she has given up the battle, 
 but her instincts are indestructible. She is still a 
 cat when she sees a mouse." 
 
 John Marchmont had dropped in upon Mrs. 
 Challoner on this same Sunday afternoon. It was 
 usually his way on a Sunday, and to-day, contrary 
 to custom, he found her alone. The tide had set in 
 some other direction. 
 
 " Still a cat if you see a mouse," he observed 
 meditatively. 
 
 " And sometimes," Mrs. Challoner proceeded 
 daringly, pursuing her figure of speech, " I have 
 longed to be a real Puss-in-Boots, and to eat up a 
 Marquis of Carabas. Now there was Ferdinand 
 Hartley." 
 
 " Surely, you did not put an end to him ? " 
 " No, he apparently finished himself." 
 " Who is it you are longing to devour now? " 
 " The fault of metaphors is that they mix them 
 selves up," said Mrs. Challoner, who sat, easy, well- 
 dressed, smiling, in her favorite chair, with her 
 favorite belongings around her. She had for 
 
SUNDAY EVENING. 299 
 
 months been desirous of a chance to meddle in the 
 destinies of certain people, feeling sure that she, 
 better than others, could set things right, smooth 
 out the tangled skein. " What I mean," she now 
 proceeded, " is that I am apt to feel murderous 
 when I have a favorite object in view." 
 
 u What is your present favorite object ? " he in 
 quired. 
 
 " To begin with, I want to see you married." 
 
 " I married ! me married ! " he repeated as if in 
 credulous. 
 
 "Well, why not?" 
 
 "I have lived fifty-six years without a wife. 
 Few and troubled are the years which lie between 
 me and my grave." 
 
 " Nonsense. There is a duty in these matters." 
 
 " Of course I ought to have married thirty years 
 ago." 
 
 " I do not say that at all. I am not looking up 
 past, but present and future duties. I m rather 
 glad, in point of fact, that you did not marry thirty 
 years ago. Your wife would have been a contem 
 porary of mine. Perhaps, I should not have liked 
 her. Perhaps, as a married man and father of a 
 family, I should not have liked you." 
 
 " Exactly. It is not in my line. I have had a 
 conscience in the matter, and have given every 
 woman a chance to get a better husband than I could 
 have made her." 
 
 "Do not say such things. I hate modesty; I 
 
300 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 hate a spirit of self-sacrifice. It is paraded as 
 a virtue, but all it does is to foster selfishness and 
 conceit in other people. If a man is modest he had 
 better keep it to himself. The world is apt to con 
 sider that he has, no doubt, good grounds for 
 speaking ill of himself." 
 
 " Anything to please you ; I will turn egoist 
 at once." 
 
 " First, I want you to marry." 
 
 " Whom shall I marry, pray ? " 
 
 " There is Constance Garner," suggested Mrs. 
 Challoner, with the cunning of the serpent. 
 
 " Constance Garner ? She is like my own child." 
 
 " Well, Kathy, then," said Mrs. Challoner in a 
 wheedling tone. 
 
 " Would n t it be rather absurd for a gray-headed 
 old fellow to fancy that a young and blooming 
 creature was meant for his consolation ? " 
 
 " Nonsense. I was telling Mr. Challoner this 
 morning that of all the men I know you seemed 
 best calculated to make a woman happy." 
 
 Mr. Marchmont chuckled. "What did Chal 
 loner say to that?" 
 
 " He said he was sorry for me, but as he had, so 
 far as he was aware, no mortal disease, some 
 tragical event seemed to be necessary. However, 
 I assured him that I was disinterested, that what 
 I wished was to insure not my own happiness but 
 that of the woman you were in love with." 
 
 " What makes you think I am in love with any 
 body?" said Mr. Marchmont, blushing rosy red. 
 
SUNDAY EVENING. 301 
 
 " Because you show it, whether you stand, walk, 
 sit, eat, drink, talk, or are silent. You can t get 
 outside yourself. I used to look forward to seeing 
 you, to refreshing myself from your overflow. 
 Now you are the slave of one idea. When a man 
 loves a woman with delicacy, with tenderness, with 
 adoration, he loves stupidly." 
 
 " I admit the stupidity." 
 
 " Then, being in love stupidly, there is the neces 
 sity of being jealous." 
 
 " I admit also the necessity of being jealous." 
 
 " When there is nobody to be jealous of ? " 
 
 " Nobody to be jealous of ! You do not under 
 stand the situation." 
 
 " I used to fancy you were jealous of Ferdinand 
 Hartley, but I told you he was not in love with 
 her. The moment he saw that rich Western 
 widow he no longer had a thought of Kathy. Who 
 else is there ? Of course there are Teddy Frost and 
 Jack Challoner, but they are like half a dozen 
 others, mere walking men." 
 
 " How about Lawrence Garthe?" 
 
 " He is in love with Constance." 
 
 " But if Constance gives him up to her step 
 mother, if Kathleen herself fancies him " 
 
 " Mr. Garthe is in love with Constance, I say." 
 
 " And Constance is well worth being in love 
 with ; but Kathleen is so much more charming." 
 
 Mrs. Challoner s eyes danced. 
 
 "But I insist on having Mr. Garthe for Con- 
 
302 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 stance, and I want you for Kathy. Why do you 
 not speak out ? " 
 
 He looked at her with eagerness. 
 
 " Ought I to speak ? " he asked. 
 
 " Of course you ought to speak." 
 
 " At the risk of robbing her of the chance to fall 
 in love with somebody else ? " 
 
 " Accept all risks, and act for yourself." 
 
 " I am so much older ! " 
 
 " You are just so much wiser." 
 
 " I doubt that, and youth is for youth." 
 
 " What is youth ? You are a century younger 
 than the cold, dull, cynical young fellows of to-day. 
 Everybody who knows you feels stimulated and 
 stirred up after a talk with you. Besides, you are 
 an artist, and to have an art is to be always young." 
 
 " You cannot make me the dupe of my own illu 
 sions. I am too old for her." 
 
 " You could not be the man you are unless you 
 had lived just so long and just so deeply, and had 
 come to just this culmination of experience. There 
 may be drawbacks, but in how many marriages do 
 you find absolutely perfect conditions? At all 
 events, let Kathy understand you, let her know 
 that you care for her. Silence is the crudest thing 
 in the world, and the realm of unavoidable silence 
 silence which nothing can break is large enough 
 without adding to it the silence which results from 
 our own doubt, our own indecision, our own timid 
 ity. Life is so short ! The end of all things conies 
 
SUNDAY EVENING. 303 
 
 so soon, soonest of all, the end of our dearest 
 things." 
 
 Mrs. Challoner had possibly taken advantage of 
 the fact that other visitors were entering, to speak 
 with some solemnity. It was like a dismissal, like 
 a benediction, and John Marchmont accepted it 
 with a bent head and went out. He had great 
 faith in Mrs. Challoner, not only in her friend 
 ship but in her knowledge of the world. She was 
 not a woman to dogmatize upon any subject, but 
 possessed by nature a just and accurate sense of 
 people and events, gauging them with prompt deci 
 sion, which enabled her to be a touchstone for a 
 nature like John Marchmont s, invariably halting 
 a little before pushing his own claims, feeling that 
 no man can tell what having his own will and way 
 may do to the injury of mankind. 
 
 He spent the remainder of the day at his sister s, 
 meditating upon what he had heard. He honestly 
 desired for Kathy the best that could happen to 
 her, and possibly the best thing that could happen 
 to her was to marry himself. Had he not a house 
 and lands, a comfortable property, and did not his 
 pictures sell ? Was not Kathy poor, while at the 
 same time did she not take delight in the ample, 
 the magnificent, in the easy way in which money 
 may make material means subordinate to ends ! 
 Not that he was rich enough to make it worth a 
 woman s while to marry him for money, but he 
 was inclined to dwell a little on some clear advan- 
 
304 TUE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 tage to be gained by Kathy in becoming Mrs. John 
 Marchmont, for he abhorred the idea of her accept 
 ing him out of sympathy. He had habitually 
 shown her his coldest side. He could, he believed, 
 consistently thank Heaven that he had softened no 
 roughness in himself, enhanced no values, invested 
 himself with no glamour. She knew him at his 
 worst. If he were now to change his role from that 
 of a disinterested friend he must convince her by 
 demonstration that as a lover he was quite another 
 thing, could give points to Benedict, out-Romeo 
 Romeo ; that, Methuselah as he was, he yet re 
 sembled one of those marvelous casks which jug 
 glers handle, out of which every variety of generous 
 wine can be drawn at will. 
 
 He was in a genial after-dinner mood, when at 
 half-past eight he went down the steps of his sis 
 ter s house, and encountered Lawrence Garthe 
 coming up. 
 
 " I wanted to see you," said the latter. " I felt 
 inclined to have a talk with you." 
 
 " I will go back, or on to my studio," ex 
 claimed Mr. Marchmont. 
 
 " Had you any engagement? " 
 
 "I was simply going to the Garners , where I 
 always spend my Sunday evenings." 
 
 " We can walk on together. I started with the 
 intention of going there. Then suddenly the idea 
 occurred to me that I should like to talk over cer 
 tain matters with you." 
 

 SUNDAY EVENING. 305 
 
 He stopped short on the curbstone. 
 
 " I detest talking about myself," he exclaimed. 
 " I know myself, but nobody else knows me." 
 
 " Count me as a sure friend," said John March- 
 mont warmly. 
 
 " You remember my introduction to Mrs. Gar 
 ner and her daughter," Garthe went on, plunging 
 into his subject. " You recall how it happened 
 that I was invited to their house. Ferdinand 
 Hartley had spoken of taking me there, but I had 
 declined. With premeditation, by any exercise of 
 my own will, I should not have consented at first. 
 I had simply given up society ; it had seemed better 
 to do so. But everything at first seemed accidental, 
 then it seemed inevitable ; it had come about with 
 out my own intention. I had been blind to the 
 significance of the first event, and after that, I was 
 interested, absorbed, carried along, in spite of my 
 self. Before I knew it I was in love. As soon as 
 I realized that I was in love I might, it is true, 
 have drawn back ; but after all, there was the 
 chance. Now, Mr. Marchmont, I want to tell you, 
 man to man, just how I stand. You are her friend, 
 you were her father s friend ; you can judge for 
 her." 
 
 They still stood on the curbstone with the light 
 of the great electric moon above full on their faces. 
 Garthe dashed into his subject, as if conscious that 
 only by a fierce plunge could he be free of the shud 
 dering horror of making the revelation. After he 
 
306 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 had seen Mr. Marchmont give a start of surprise, 
 heard him utter an exclamation, perhaps of aston 
 ishment, perhaps of indignation, he was at least 
 free to go on ; he had told the worst he could tell of 
 himself, and now that it was uttered he experienced 
 a sensation of relief. Yet a sharp instinct of anx 
 iety made him see something in John Marchmont s 
 face to give him alarm. 
 
 " I want all the facts," said the older man briefly. 
 
 Garthe obeyed. Even with the statement that his 
 wife had been guilty towards him, that she had 
 deserted her helpless child, he was not hard. He 
 did not feel that he had the right. He had been 
 always conscious of a fatal weakness in himself, of 
 haste, of impatience, of possible harshness, which 
 had caused open revolt. He had not, he had gone 
 on feeling all these years, sufficiently measured the 
 temptations to which he had left his wife, little 
 more than a child, exposed. His own shuddering 
 horror of her early surroundings had made him 
 blind to their possible attractions for her. He jus 
 tified himself in nothing ; he made few accusations ; 
 rather he seemed too full of pity, almost of tender 
 ness, to inflict a possible wound. He tried to 
 gather his answer from John Marchmont s eyes, 
 but each time their glances encountered he was 
 conscious of a sort of reproach in them. 
 
 " Does Constance know ? " asked the artist, as 
 Garthe paused. 
 
 "No." 
 
SUNDAY EVENING. 307 
 
 " Yet you have spoken to her of your " 
 
 " I have told her I loved her ; I have told her 
 that I wished to make her my wife. I have told 
 her, too, that I had a painful history." 
 
 " A very painful history. I wish you had begun 
 by confessing it clearly." 
 
 " So do I," said Garthe in a bitter whisper. 
 
 " However," pursued John Marchmont, " I have 
 entire sympathy for you in your reserve." 
 
 Garthe clutched his arm. 
 
 "Tell me one thing," he exclaimed vehemently. 
 " Do you consider that this this accursed thing 
 in my life separates her from me ? " 
 
 "No," said John Marchmont. "No; tell her 
 what you have told me, and if she really cares for 
 you He broke off. "Let us go on," he added, 
 after a moment s pause. " It is cold here, and we 
 have been standing still too long. We will go there 
 together." 
 
 Garthe had not released his companion s arm, 
 and, linked together, they walked on. 
 
 " I have wanted to tell her, but I have put it 
 off. I have thought of writing it, but I wished to 
 see her face when she heard the story. Then, too, 
 before I made any sort of plea to her for sympa 
 thy, before I put clearly before her just the sacrifice 
 she would be compelled to make in marrying me, I 
 longed to know just how much of a sacrifice it was, 
 whether it would be too costly, whether my story, 
 if known, could tarnish her in the world s eye." 
 
308 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " Tarnish her? No ! " cried John Marchmont. 
 
 u I have had to live with it," pursued Garthe. " I 
 have felt the sting of it, and I have dreaded it 
 for her. I suppose it is that which gagged me. 
 Then, too, it has all been very brief, very hurried. 
 I " They had reached the house in Lexing 
 ton Avenue. Garthe put his hand a moment 
 heavily on his companion s, as they went up the 
 steps together. " I can t tell you what a relief it 
 is," he burst out suddenly, u to have you under 
 stand. I owed the explanation to her ; I owed it to 
 Mrs. Garner ; I owed it to everybody who cares for 
 her, but I shrank from it. Tell me once, in so many 
 words, on your conscience, on your honor, have I or 
 have I not, the right to go in and sit beside her ? " 
 
 " You have every right," said John Marchmont, 
 moved by Garthe s look, tone, and impetuous, boyish 
 movement. 
 
 " To tell her that I want her for my wife ? " 
 
 " Yes ; one cannot but wish it had been different, 
 one cannot reason away subtle likes and dislikes. 
 They belong to the grain of a man s mind. They 
 are a matter of taste, of prepossession, of prejudice, 
 yet one knows it is only a matter of taste, pre 
 possession and prejudice. Frankly, I wish you had 
 not been married at all, even happily ; but that is 
 an impracticable wish. As it is, I consider that you 
 have been horribly wronged, and with all my heart 
 I shall be glad to see a good, sweet girl make up to 
 you for what you have lost." 
 
SUNDAY EVENING. 309 
 
 "And that is final?" said Garthe. 
 
 " That is final." 
 
 They went in together. Not only in Garthe, but 
 in John Marchniont as well, a change was percepti 
 ble. Each man seemed to see his way made clear ; 
 each was conscious of a joyous change which set him 
 free. John Marchniont was at last convinced that 
 Garthe was certainly no rival of his. What Garthe 
 experienced was a different sensation of relief, 
 almost resembling that of an innocent man who 
 has been in danger of being committed for a crime 
 but is suddenly proved to be not only guiltless but 
 himself the injured person. He had hardly known 
 until this moment how he had hated the thought of 
 the dogging shadow on his life, the shadow which 
 might at any moment, like that of the released 
 genie, take increasing size and blacken his whole 
 universe. Yesterday, an hour ago, inseparable 
 from the thought of Constance, had come this 
 menace. Even while he had been almost fiercely 
 ready to vindicate his own attitude, he had been 
 tortured by scruples, by a dread of the world s 
 sharp strictures. 
 
 Yet never was opportunity less propitious for a 
 pair of lovers. Instead of finding Kathy and Con 
 stance sitting cosily by the fire, hoping some one 
 would come and lighten the burden of the long, 
 dull evening, there was, by chance, a room full of 
 people. In spite of each of the two men being pos 
 sessed by his own idea, each feeling himself at a 
 
310 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 supreme moment of his destiny, each was compelled 
 to sit down and discuss indifferent subjects ; John 
 Marchmont, by some irony of fate, falling to the 
 share of a pretty girl vastly taken with art, who 
 unhesitatingly demanded his opinion of certain 
 pictures in a new exhibition. 
 
 " How did you like the - -?" 
 
 " Excellent upholstery." 
 
 " But so much color, such beautiful textures." 
 
 " Precisely ; you know exactly what they are, 
 silks, satins, and velvets, and how much they cost 
 a yard ; I never saw anything more admirably 
 clear." 
 
 " I am afraid you are not in earnest." 
 
 " I am profoundly in earnest." 
 
 " 1 fancy that you are an impressionist." 
 
 " Very likely that is it." 
 
 " I myself do not like too much everyday 
 realism, pictures made up of infinite brush 
 strokes, touched and retouched ; it may be con 
 scientious work, but I call the effect tedious." 
 
 " c Tedious is good, 4 tedious is very good 
 indeed." 
 
 " I like the vague tenderness of Browne s can 
 vases." 
 
 " I called it tender vagueness, but we both love 
 the same thing, no doubt." 
 
 " Such extraordinary juggling with effect of 
 color and light." 
 
 " Extraordinary juggling, indeed ! " said John 
 
SUNDAY EVENING. 311 
 
 Marchmont, who was looking at Kathleen, and 
 straining his ears to hear what she was saying to a 
 stranger whose name he had not caught, but in whom 
 she seemed engrossed to a degree which reduced him 
 to despondency. He had believed momentarily that 
 since Garthe was devoted to Constance, he had no 
 rival ; but here was another ; a man sufficiently 
 young and good-looking, who gazed at Kathy with 
 admiring affection, while she treated him to her 
 prettiest glances and ways, just those endearing, 
 womanly ways which he had seen her use with 
 Bernard Garner, and which were the spontaneous 
 outcome of real affection, real tenderness. Fresh 
 doubts, jealousies, torments, scruples, honeycombed 
 John Marchmont s peace of mind, and he was 
 further than ever from any mood of belief, hope, or 
 resolution. 
 
 Garthe s experience was of a different order. 
 On seeing him Constance had risen, given him her 
 hand ; their eyes had met once, and he had dis 
 covered in them a half mischievous light, and in the 
 smile which played about her lips he discerned also 
 hidden amusement, a childlike, naive sense of a 
 secret between them. Thus, even when she ad 
 dressed him with formality, introduced him to an 
 elderly lady and to a military-looking man, who, 
 evidently tired oi each other, turned to him on the 
 instant with some relief, Garthe felt more than 
 ever that there was a bond between them of entire 
 comprehension and sympathy. He at once sat down, 
 
312 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GAETHE. 
 
 began to talk and listen to his new acquaintances, 
 not looking at Constance, but conscious that 
 she often glanced at him sweetly and confidingly, 
 that she observed all that he said, smiled, and 
 once laughed outright. Never had he felt so sure 
 of her regard for him as to-night : there was joy, 
 almost pride, in her eyes, in her smile, in the tone 
 of her voice. 
 
 He perceived after a time that some of the group 
 were guests who were staying in the house ; hence 
 it would be impossible to outsit them : the mo 
 ment of explanation must again be postponed. 
 
 But, surer of himself to-night, he schemed a little 
 for a chance of exchanging one word. He saw her 
 rise, cross the room for an album of photographs, 
 and in a moment he was at her side. 
 
 " Must I go away without a word with you ? " he 
 whispered as he reached down for the book. 
 
 " Is not this a word ? " 
 
 " I wanted so much to see you to-night. Shall 
 you be alone to-morrow evening? I wish particu 
 larly to see you." 
 
 44 Kathy will be here." 
 
 " Constance ! " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Say that you will go upstairs and find the book, 
 for it is not here. Then go into the little reception- 
 room. I must say a word to you." 
 
 " The book is not here, but how can I " 
 
 4k No matter how, go back, I will follow. 1 
 
SUNDAY EVENING. 313 
 
 will take leave ; then in a moment, you will be in 
 the reception-room ? " 
 
 She said nothing, but her glance told him that 
 she consented. She turned from him went out ; 
 he approached Mrs. Garner, bade her good 
 night, bowed to the circle, shook hands with his 
 former companions, gained the hall, then found to 
 his dismay that John Marchmont was following 
 upon his steps. 
 
 " Oh, you are going also," Garthe exclaimed. 
 
 "Why not? It s past half -past ten," said Mr. 
 Marchmont, disconsolate, rather irritable, and alto 
 gether worn out. " Come on." 
 
 " In one instant," said Garthe in a low voice, and 
 he turned into the reception-room, where Constance 
 stood, her cheeks aflame. 
 
 " What have I done ? " she murmured. " Never 
 should I have dreamed I could do such a thing ! " 
 
 He gazed at her, absolutely entranced by her 
 beauty. 
 
 " But I had to see you ; how could I go away 
 without having even met your eyes ? Look at me, 
 look at me, Constance," for her glance had fallen 
 before his. 
 
 She raised them as he insisted. 
 
 " I came to tell you everything," he murmured. 
 " I had told Mr. Marchmont " 
 
 " Not to-night," she said, and looked at him with 
 love in her eyes. 
 
 " But I must tell you one thing," he said passion- 
 
314 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 ately, " that I love you, that I ask you to give me 
 peace, the peace I can never feel again until you 
 and I are one ; at least until you show me that you, 
 too, love me." 
 
 He was clasping her, her face was upturned ; 
 their eyes met, then, as his words ceased, their 
 lips ; for his, like flame, had leaped to what they 
 coveted. 
 
 " Did I keep you too long ? " Garthe asked 
 John Marchinont in another moment. 
 
 " An eternity," replied the artist. He uttered, as 
 they emerged from the house, a sort of groan. 
 " Oh, youth, youth ! " he said, two or three times 
 over, on their way home. Garthe could extract 
 from him no other syllable* 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LARRY HAS A VISITOR. 
 
 THE note of expectation which Garthe had 
 struck sounded all night through Larry s dreams. 
 A vision of something undefined, yet brightening 
 and warming his world, shone for him on waking, 
 like the sun behind a luminous mist. 
 
 " Don t talk about it this morning, Larry," his 
 father returned, in answer to his questions and his 
 prattle. " Wait a little." 
 
 For Garthe could not put his feelings into 
 words to-day. He was separated from his bliss 
 of the night before by a dream; a terrible to 
 him at this moment a shameful dream ; a dream 
 which had made him hide his eyes from the day 
 with a feeling as of moral degradation. He had 
 gone to bed happy and light at heart. That kiss, 
 which had had all the clinging, the intensity of pas 
 sion, had yet satisfied a hunger, a yearning which 
 belonged to the soul more than the senses. It was 
 the expression of what lay vibrating in the man s 
 inmost heart and met its full response. No more 
 than that embrace had been necessary to show 
 Garthe that Constance was his own, his very own. 
 It would not have been possible for any man to be 
 
316 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GsiRTHE. 
 
 moved by a more pure and exquisite feeling of 
 happiness than he had felt, as he sank into sleep. 
 Later came the dream. 
 
 He had still been thinking of Constance, and he 
 seemed to be awaiting her. His impressions of the 
 time, the scene, the occasion, were hazy and 
 confused, yet he was expecting her ; and when he 
 discerned a figure approaching it was his in 
 stinct joyfully to advance and meet it ; but a 
 paralysis weighed upon him ; his limbs seemed to 
 be held in an iron grip. " Come, come," he cried 
 eagerly, " you can reach me although I am bound 
 in chains." A voice answered, " I am coming." 
 At the sound of this voice he experienced a sharp 
 disappointment. It was not the voice of Con 
 stance. Still it was a familiar voice, and as it 
 vibrated in his ear a new world of images seemed 
 to rise, and, as in a transformation scene, the wan 
 ing and waxing shapes mingled for a moment in 
 half confusion, then the old faded into the back 
 ground and dissolved. Along with this new set of 
 impressions came a strange perplexity and pain. 
 " Is it you, then, Bella ? " he asked. For although 
 his sense told him the presence was approaching 
 closer and closer, he could distinguish no person 
 ality ; it seemed as it loomed up to make him 
 more hopelessly in doubt. It was beside him, it 
 touched him ; he became conscious of a convulsion, 
 a passionate pressure, and along with this con 
 sciousness of an ever multiplying horror and sting 
 
LARRY HAS A VISITOR. 317 
 
 of trouble and of shame came a trembling joy. 
 " I thought," he said to her as she enfolded him, 
 " that you were not my wife any longer." With 
 some fresh throbbing shock of presentiment, he 
 tried to push her from him, but could not. Even 
 with the feeling that there was some impediment, 
 even while he experienced a cold nightmare of 
 dislike and dread, the constraint of her passion 
 was upon him, her lips sought his, her heart 
 rested against his. He awoke to hate himself ; to 
 feel that life on such terms was become an oppres 
 sion, a menace. He slept no more, instead, lay 
 awake thinking of that hideous phantom of the 
 night. 
 
 " If only I might hear that she was dead," he 
 said to himself more than once. " One or the 
 other of us needs to die. The earth is not wide 
 enough for both of us." 
 
 Thus, although he gradually regained his equi 
 librium and strength of nerve, he was scarcely in 
 a mood to respond to Larry s questions, and was 
 almost ready to blame himself for having roused 
 these expectations in the boy, since cravings for 
 happiness must be a torment until they are ful 
 filled. 
 
 Larry, however, missed nothing. He carried 
 his new hopes blithely, yet with a proud swelling 
 of the heart, at times conscious of a warm heady 
 feeling about his eyes which made him ready to 
 laugh or to cry. Once, while he was at his lessons, 
 
318 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE, 
 
 he suddenly looked up, fixed his eyes on the ceiling, 
 and smiled. 
 
 "Why do you smile? * asked the little gov 
 erness to whom he went each day from nine until 
 twelve. 
 
 " Oh, I was just thinking." 
 
 " But this is not the time for thinking ; you are 
 having a lesson on the maps." 
 
 " I can t help thinking to-day." 
 
 " How is that? Has anything happened?" 
 
 " No, but something is going to happen." 
 
 " Will you tell me what it is ? " 
 
 He shook his head roguishly. 
 
 " It is n t going to happen to anybody else, 
 only to me," he said. And again he smiled. 
 
 He confided the secret to Amelia, however, who 
 understood how to press one question upon another 
 until she gained her object. Her suspicions, 
 indeed, in this direction were always alert. She 
 had always, she said, known that it must happen 
 sooner or later ; one could predict nothing else of 
 a fine-looking young gentleman like Mr. Garthe, 
 and of late there had been signs, clear signs, that 
 a change was at hand. Amelia had known, she 
 observed weightily, a few changes for the better 
 and many, alas, for the worse. Naturally, she 
 remembered her own good services to master and 
 boy, and reflected that there might be a falling 
 off ; but if the master was pleased and Larry was 
 pleaiied and God willed it, why, who could speak a 
 
LABBY HAS A VISITOR. 319 
 
 word against it, and she would not predict evil. 
 For Amelia had not the heart to diminish any of 
 Larry s hopes. 
 
 The afternoon was cold and dark ; now and 
 then flakes of snow fell. The boy could not stay 
 out of doors in such weather, and he wandered 
 aimlessly about the rooms. 
 
 " She is to sit there. Papa said so," he ob 
 served to Amelia, indicating the pretty blue silk 
 chair before the fire. He tried the springs, nes 
 tling against the cushions lovingly. The woman 
 could see in the boy s eyes a coming and going of 
 new and happy thoughts. His lips smiled, little 
 dimples played in his cheeks and chin ; his deep 
 gaze, however, had something in it poignant and 
 touching. He was cradled in a dream which was 
 not of any past experience. Yesterday he had 
 comprehended nothing of any need which his father 
 could not answer. To-day, nevertheless, he had a 
 hundred sweet pensive little ideas about a mother. 
 He almost felt that he must cry, but burst out 
 laughing instead. 
 
 " Where will she sit at table ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, opposite your papa, of course. You will 
 be between them." 
 
 Larry went into the dining-room and stood for a 
 time pondering this new phase of the delightful 
 mystery. Amelia, watching the light in his eyes, 
 his face alternately flushing and paling, said within 
 herself that if the child were not to get all he 
 
320 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 hoped for, it would be a wicked betrayal of con 
 fidence. 
 
 " And where will she sleep ? " he continued. 
 
 " Hear the boy ! Oh, everything will be newly 
 furnished and made over for the mistress, no 
 doubt. I dare say you will have to give up your 
 playroom and come to the third story hall-bed 
 room. You 11 gain in some ways, no doubt. It s 
 an ill wind that blows nobody any good, but 
 you re sure to lose something. You will no 
 longer be the first object." 
 
 " She may have my playroom," said Larry with 
 a swelling heart. "She may have all my play 
 things. I will give her my Swiss cow." 
 
 " Oh, she s sure to have a fine time, with the 
 master pouring out money like water before her." 
 
 Larry did not hear her. This duality of destiny 
 of which he was suddenly conscious laid its obliga 
 tion upon him. He took immense delight in the 
 thought of his possessions, and went upstairs to 
 survey them. He mentally resigned them, retain 
 ing not even the locomotive engine, tremulously 
 handing them over in imagination to the new 
 claimant. 
 
 " I wish she would come now," he murmured to 
 himself. 
 
 He had all that he had possessed hitherto, yet 
 it was not enough. Even the Skye and the 
 Angora seemed also to be waiting and expecting 
 something. Fido yawned, whined, and stretched 
 
LARRY HAS A VISITOR. 321 
 
 himself ; even Mou-mou was uneasy. All three 
 wandered restlessly about the house, paying visits 
 to Amelia, into whose ears Larry poured every 
 fresh fancy and surmise. Now and then he 
 stopped short and meditated ; some fresh thought 
 had offered itself, and perhaps some important 
 question had to be decided upon, before he could 
 even speak to Fido, who at such moments was apt 
 to sit up on his hind legs and put up his front 
 paws and beg. At such times Fido had a very 
 droll air, as his hair was sure to be in his eyes, 
 and his whole aspect imbecile and not in the least 
 like that of a sensible dog. The Angora was never 
 foolish like the Skye terrier ; even if she shut her 
 eyes entirely she looked wiser and wiser. 
 
 What seemed strange to Larry was that he had 
 never asked his father to do this wonderful thing. 
 He had known that his father was in the secret of 
 everything, could do anything no matter how mar 
 velous, and yet he had never asked it. He was 
 glad now that the miracle had happened without 
 his praying for it. It gave him a sense of the 
 illimitable goodness of everybody. He experi 
 enced a sense of exaltation. 
 
 The rooms were dull and dark. He went to the 
 front windows, pushed away the curtains, and 
 looked out, Fido also climbing to his side on the 
 window-seat. The tops of the opposite houses 
 seemed as tall as the sky, for there was no real sky 
 to-day ; above the roofs the strip of heaven that 
 
322 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 showed was heavy with clouds, dark and threaten 
 ing. The few people who hurried along on foot 
 bent their heads dumbly and took the bleak wind 
 which blew from river to river. Now and then a 
 confectioner s or a fish-monger s cart rattled by, 
 stopping somewhere within view to leave delica 
 cies for some of the neighbors dinners. Larry s 
 thoughts varied from the lofty to the prosaic. It 
 occurred to his mind that perhaps when the new 
 mamma came they would have dainties every day. 
 They would have to do their best to please her, 
 and he imagined her as liking sweets as much as 
 he himself did. He was radiant with high spirits. 
 He wished he could talk to Fido and Mou-mou, for 
 Button had by this time come in and was sitting 
 before the kitchen fire, fast asleep, and Amelia 
 held up a warning finger if Larry intruded. 
 
 His happiness was so great, however, that Amelia 
 and Button could not add to it, or take it away. He 
 even felt magnanimous when he saw that the con 
 fectioner was leaving half a dozen ice-cream freezers 
 at Fred Conover s house. Still, as Fred might not 
 know the great happiness which had befallen Larry 
 himself, he might be thinking that he was a lonely 
 boy, since they were evidently going to have a 
 party, and it/ was a pity he should be deceived. 
 
 Closed carriages with ladies inside passed at in 
 tervals, and stopped before a house at the end of the 
 block, where people lived who gave receptions to 
 their friends every Monday. Larry s eyes followed 
 
LAEEY HAS A VISITOR. 323 
 
 one after the other, expecting to see them all stop 
 at the same door. Presently, however, a very 
 pretty stylish coupe with one horse went past very 
 slowly, and halted a little way beyond, in an irreso 
 lute sort of fashion. Apparently the driver did not 
 know exactly where he was to go ; but there, yes, 
 he had started his horse and driven on, not however, 
 to the corner house. This was perplexing, but it was 
 something to think about, anything would do to 
 wonder about, since nothing was to happen before 
 his father came home. The air was full of great 
 flakes of snow. He tried to open the window and 
 put out his hand and catch one, but could not 
 undo the fastening. He was standing on the cush 
 ions of the window-seat, when he saw directly in 
 front of the house a very pretty lady looking up. 
 She stood quite still ; gazed at him, put up her veil, 
 and nodded and smiled. Who could it be ? For a 
 moment, as he gazed back at her, he quite forgot 
 all that had been in his mind that day. Suddenly 
 it flashed back upon him. Could it be she ? Had 
 she come? His papa had said she was coming. 
 This lady was smiling and nodding. There, she 
 beckoned, went nearer the steps and pointed to the 
 door. He ran into the hall, eagerly pushed aside 
 the latch, turned the knob, and opened the door, al 
 though in general it was a feat beyond his strength. 
 There she was, on the threshold, inside the vesti 
 bule, and still smiling ; a very grand and beautiful 
 lady dressed in velvet and fur and laces. 
 
324 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " What is your name ? " she asked in a very soft 
 voice, coining straight up to the threshold and look 
 ing at him earnestly. 
 
 " Lawrence Courtenay Garthe." 
 
 She took the little rosy face between her two 
 hands, looked down at him with a laughing glance, 
 and kissed him on the forehead, the eyes, the lips. 
 Then she drew back and gazed at him a moment in 
 silence. He had grown a little pale ; his eyes, 
 which met hers, were bright and shining. 
 
 " Can you guess who I am ? " she asked. 
 
 He had to draw a long breath before he coidd 
 speak. He was stifled by some strange feeling. 
 
 " Is it my mamma ? " he gasped, trembling from 
 head to foot. 
 
 She uttered an exclamation. 
 
 " What makes you think I am your mamma?" 
 she demanded. 
 
 " Papa told me you were coming." 
 
 She gazed at the child in sudden dismay, feeling 
 as if entrapped, caught in meshes she could not 
 undo. She experienced a momentary reaction from 
 the impulse, partly of mischief, partly of audacity, 
 which had brought her to this house, and longed to 
 run away. 
 
 She had come with the intention of planting, if 
 possible, a ghost of the past in Lawrence Garthe s 
 present ; she longed to spoil his felicity. How 
 dared he live and be happy, as if he had neither 
 part nor lot with her ? 
 
LARRY HAS A VISITOR. 325 
 
 "Is your papa at home?" she now inquired 
 almost brusquely. 
 
 " No, papa will not be home till six o clock." 
 
 " Then I will come in and see you." 
 
 " Are you really my mamma ? " Larry inquired, 
 red and white chasing each other in his face. 
 
 " Yes," she returned, with a shrill laugh. " I am 
 really your own mamma. The only mamma you 
 have in all the world. Do be good and ask her 
 in out of the snow-storm." 
 
 He drew a long breath and stood looking at her, 
 smiling and blushing with intense pride and joy, 
 yet half shamefaced, conscious of being kept at a 
 distance, of being thwarted in some expectation. 
 He was so absorbed in his own emotions that she 
 herself had to draw him inside and shut the door, 
 then lead the way into the room, where a fire was 
 burning. She glanced round, half defiant and 
 half shy as she entered the place, bracing herself 
 against the ordeal of some possible encounter. 
 But the library was empty, and with a feeling of 
 relief and exultation she sank into the blue chair 
 before the hearth. 
 
 Larry had hold of her hand, and now stood gaz 
 ing at her humbly and passionately. . 
 
 " Oh, mamma," he said in a voice like a sob. 
 
 She flung down her muff and drew him within 
 the circle of her arms, experiencing an odd sort of 
 shyness. He leaned against her shoulder, smooth 
 ing the soft fine sable which trimmed her cloak. 
 
326 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 They were face to face, and she studied him with 
 thoughtful, inquisitive eyes, perhaps trying to make 
 out some resemblance to herself, or to his father. 
 This sense of nearness, this deep strange look bent 
 on him, filled the little fellow with the most poign 
 ant emotion. She drew him on her lap, pressed 
 his supple form to her breast, embraced him, and 
 their lips met. 
 
 " Oh, my mamma," whispered Larry. He burst 
 into a passion of weeping. He knelt on her knees, 
 put his arms round her neck, and nestled his head 
 under the cheek, against the warm white throat. 
 
 44 Why do you cry ? " she asked, as he still 
 sobbed. 
 
 " Because I am so happy you have come, 
 mamma." 
 
 u How did you feel so sure that I was your 
 mamma ? " she asked, and she, too, was under the 
 thrill of emotion. 
 
 " Papa said you were coming," Larry returned, 
 withdrawing a little, in order to gaze at her the 
 better. How beautiful she was ; how rich and 
 dark her hair and eyebrows ; how bright her eyes, 
 and how lovely the color on her cheeks and lips ! 
 How grand she was too, with the velvet and fur 
 and the gold ornaments on her bonnet ! His head 
 was dizzy with the warmth and fragrance of the 
 breast he leaned against. " He did not say you 
 would come to-day, but I hoped you would come, 
 and I thought you would come," he went on, 
 
LAERY HAS A VISITOR. 327 
 
 pleased with this evidence of his own sagacity. 
 " Papa only said you would come soon." 
 
 "And you wanted to see me ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I have been thinking about it ever 
 since I got up this morning. I did not tell Miss 
 Brown, and I did not tell the boys when I was out 
 at noon. But I thought of it all the time, and 
 Amelia and I have been talking about it. I told 
 her you were coming." 
 
 To be expected, waited for, welcomed, gave her 
 a feeling of bewilderment, almost of humiliation. 
 Then she began to piece together detached fancies 
 and ideas, and enlightenment dawned gradually. It 
 was not she herself whom the child had been 
 taught to prepare a welcome for, but that other 
 woman. In a rage with Garthe, with the boy, with 
 herself, and with her life, she half pushed him 
 away, as that spectre came between them, the 
 intolerable sense returning, that after all, in spite 
 of her wealth, her independence, nothing actually 
 belonged to her. Had this child and this child s 
 father, this room with its signs of habitation and 
 occupation, ever been a possible part of her living 
 world of possessions and ideas, where now such 
 a gulf of distance must yawn between them and 
 her ? Then as in a flash she found herself again 
 in high spirits. After all, the boy was hers. That 
 fact could not be altered by any decree, human or 
 divine. She could intrench herself in a mother s 
 prerogative, which rests on natural law, instinct, 
 
328 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 fate. Even if Garthe had another wife sitting 
 in this very chair, Larry could not be her child. 
 She was conscious that her heart was beating with 
 some indefinable agitation, yet exultation welled 
 up within her. She was well within her rights. 
 Nobody with a heart could alienate Larry from 
 her. The triumphant realization of her ability to 
 inflict pain, to put obstacles in the way of Garthe s 
 security and happiness, grew, and as she took in 
 the irony of the situation, she laughed aloud. 
 
 " What did your papa say about your mamma ? " 
 she inquired. 
 
 " That you were coming to live with us," stam 
 mered Larry. " He said we had been so lonely, 
 but that God was good, and that we were never, 
 never to be lonely any more. He made me promise 
 I would be good to you, mamma! " He uttered a 
 little gurgle of a laugh. " I shall be so glad to be 
 just as good as I know how." 
 
 She smiled at him, then in a slow, luminous 
 fashion, which in itself gave the boy a thrill and 
 tingle of feeling, drew him into her embrace, and 
 half stifled him with kisses. Her love of domi 
 nating, of conquering, of concentrating everything 
 upon herself, made her eager to appropriate this 
 treasure of fresh, unspent and abounding love; 
 herself to put the mint mark on it, to deny it 
 another possible claimant, to despoil that other 
 woman. Then, too, there was the joy of wresting 
 the affections of the child from its father. 
 
LAREY HAS A VISITOR. 329 
 
 " You do love me, don t you, Larry ? " she said 
 archly. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, I love you dearly." 
 
 " You will tell your papa you love me ? " 
 
 Larry laughed. " He wants me to love you." 
 
 " If he should ever say that you must not love 
 me, that you must love somebody else ; if he were 
 to tell you I was a wicked woman, that I must 
 go away, you will still love me, will you not? " 
 
 " I bet I will," said Larry, laughing still more. 
 
 " For I really am your mother. Nobody else can 
 be your own mamma. They may smile, they may 
 kiss you, they may seem to be kind, but you will 
 know it is all a pretense. You will see that they 
 are only making believe ; but this is not making 
 believe." 
 
 Again she let her passion encircle him and over 
 power him like a flood. His senses were confused 
 by the warm and fragrant kisses, and he was under 
 the spell of her beautiful, terrible eyes. Alter 
 nately he quaked with a sort of ecstatic fear and 
 screamed with laughter. Half sweet although it 
 was, it was half annihilating ; he felt carried along 
 he knew not whither. 
 
 " You see I love you," she said, drawing back 
 and letting her glance travel over his face. " You 
 will tell your papa that I love you and that you 
 love me dearly." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I will tell him." 
 
 " You see, dear," she cooed persuasively, " I 
 
330 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 have n t had you in my arms since you were almost 
 a baby. You were a fine little fellow then, bi:t 
 now you are quite a man. Let me see how tall you 
 are ! " 
 
 He sprang down and stood at a little distance on 
 his round straight legs, and looked at her, rosy and 
 dimpling, anxious for approval. 
 
 " Oh, you are a splendid boy," she said admir 
 ingly. " Let me see, how old are you ? Seven 
 last May?" 
 
 " I shall be eight next birthday," he answered, 
 looking at her with love unbounded. 
 
 "And so well-grown, so straight, such slender 
 little feet and ankles ! Let me see your hands and 
 feel your arms ! Oh, you re beautiful. I in proud 
 of you." Again she devoured him with kisses. 
 "Tell me about yourself. Do you have lessons? 
 Can you read ? " 
 
 He blushed and turned pale alternately. At 
 moments this love grew oppressive, intolerable ; his 
 head seemed whirling round. Still this tangible 
 evidence that he was beloved was precious ; it made 
 everything more real. His felicity gathered mean 
 ing, too, from her beauty, from the sensation of 
 ecstatic but mute delight which he experienced 
 under her glance. Strength and power and 
 beauty seemed crystallized in her, and he was a 
 mere atom under her control. It was a relief to 
 have a moment to collect his thoughts, to regain, 
 as it were, possession of himself, and answer her 
 
LARRY HAS A VISITOR. 331 
 
 questions. His tongue once unloosed, he poured out 
 every idea which came into his mind. He intro 
 duced Fido, who had been undergoing agonies of jeal 
 ousy and chagrin at the presence of this intruder. 
 Mou-mou was on her cushion asleep, she was al 
 ways asleep, and she seemed always, if she were 
 awake, to be a little disdainful of the world and con 
 sider it not worth a cat s attention. It was Amelia 
 who usually took care of him; Button, however, 
 sometimes put him to bed and dressed him in the 
 morning. Papa took him to school at nine o clock 
 and Button came for him at twelve. He learned all 
 sorts of things ; he could model, draw, print, and 
 even read a little ; he knew figures too, and maps. 
 These were his new boots. See, what splendid soles ! 
 He had quite outgrown his old ones ; they pinched 
 him. He had a new winter coat with three capes, 
 and a cap of the same stuff. Amelia s canary bird 
 would eat sugar from his lips, and chirped whenever 
 he went into the kitchen. Sometimes Mou-mou 
 would look at the bird, opening and shutting her 
 yellow eyes, and sheathing and unsheathing her 
 claws as if she would like to get nearer that cage. 
 And papa was teaching him Latin in the evenings, 
 and at breakfast they always talked French. Love 
 his papa ! He loved him as much, as much as 
 the sun, moon, and stars put together. 
 
 While he prattled on he thought it odd but very 
 droll and delightful that she interrupted him with 
 little teasing and jesting questions. She smiled, 
 
332 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 her lips parted and showed now and then her pretty, 
 even teeth. A deeper sense of her beauty came 
 upon him every time she moved and turned. She 
 had thrown off her wraps one by one, the cape of 
 sable, the long cloak of velvet, the many-buttoned 
 gloves, and at every fresh revelation of the full, 
 rounded figure, the little hands covered with rings, 
 the brooch studded with diamonds at her throat, 
 his heart swelled with ecstasy to think that this 
 beautiful creature was his own, own mother. 
 
 " Mamma, mamma," he burst out almost sobbing, 
 he was so profoundly, so intensely proud of her. 
 
 She had been glancing about the room, and 
 now, jumping up, began to look at the pictures 
 and the books with which the place was strewn. 
 She lifted here and there one of the Greek figurines, 
 a vase, a bit of brass or cloissonnc. She sat down 
 before the desk and turned over the papers on the 
 blotter, glanced at a pile of letters in a silver etui, 
 even peeped into the pigeon-holes. While she was 
 thus rummaging, Larry saw, with the same feeling 
 of terror and admiration he had more than once felt, 
 that her face grew strange, eager, and imperious. 
 The idea of her not being pleased was like a blow 
 on the tender little heart. He was conscious of 
 the defiant restless spirit which shone in her eyes ; 
 that she seemed to be looking for something which 
 should satisfy some hungry instinct. He wondered 
 what it could be. There was a pile of manuscript 
 which she turned over with a curling lip, proof- 
 
LAEEY HAS A VISITOR. 333 
 
 sheets ; they did not rouse her curiosity. It might 
 have seemed as if she longed to conjure up some 
 thing, that she felt the presence of something antag 
 onistic, something upon which she longed to pounce, 
 and devour without remorse or scruple. After a 
 while, perhaps convinced that there was nothing to 
 be found, perhaps put to shame by Larry s eyes, 
 which grew wider and wider with surprise, she 
 laughed to herself, turned, and as if demanding an 
 outlet for her superfluous fire and energy, she began 
 to play with the boy. An imp-like feeling of defi 
 ance, of resolution to do all that she might and to 
 treat everything as her own, to wrest the rights of 
 possession out of dispossession, assailed her every 
 moment more and more strongly. She caught up a 
 set of carved ivory balls which she began to toss like 
 a juggler ; then when she could not keep them in air, 
 she pelted Larry with them recklessly ; she chased 
 him up and down the room, brought him to bay on 
 the lounge, and pretended to smother him with cush 
 ions. Her cheeks grew more and more rosy, her 
 eyes brighter and brighter, her smile more mischie 
 vous. She asked him if he knew how to dance, and, 
 finding him uninstructed, gave him a lesson, then 
 all at once stopped short in a pirouette and held up 
 her finger. 
 
 " Hush," she said, " what is that ? " She heard 
 a click at the door. 
 
 "That is papa," the boy cried in a rapture of 
 joy. " Papa, papa ! " He ran into the hall and 
 
334 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 threw himself into his father s arms the moment he 
 crossed the threshold. " She has come," he cried 
 triumphantly. 
 
 44 Who has come ? " asked Lawrence Garthe. 
 
 " You told me she was coming, I knew her in 
 a moment." 
 
 "Who is it?" demanded Garthe, startled. 
 
 44 Why, mamma ! Of course, it is mamma." 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A DKEAM COME TRUE. 
 
 IT had grown darker. Amelia, who had not 
 been long in making the discovery of so unusual 
 a circumstance as Larry s having a feminine visi 
 tor, and puzzled besides by the stray fragments of 
 conversation which floated to her ears as she lin 
 gered about the hall and the dining-room, had not 
 lighted the gas. Accordingly, when Garthe 
 whose instinctive guess could only be that Con 
 stance and probably Mrs. Garner had come to see 
 Larry advanced to the door of the library, he 
 could discern only the dim outlines of the figure of 
 a youthful and symmetrical woman, relieved by the 
 background of the fire. Her features he could not 
 make out at all. 
 
 " This is very good of you," he began in a voice 
 which was husky, for his heart was beating fast. 
 
 At the same instant, Amelia, advancing behind 
 him, lighted the hanging lamp in the hall, making 
 a dazzling illumination which streamed into the 
 library, not fully penetrating it, but focusing its 
 brightness in one place while deepening the shad 
 ows elsewhere. Garthe, advancing, saw just clearly 
 enough to wrest a sharp presentiment out of his 
 
336 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GsiBTHE. 
 
 thickly gathering crowd of impressions. His mind 
 reverted to his dream of the night before. No, 
 that was incredible, impossible ! 
 
 With the idea of Constance encompassing him 
 wherever he went, it had at first not seemed 
 strange that she should be here. In all ways her 
 goodness to him had been little short of miracle, 
 and this would be but an added instance. That 
 hope was still his defense, all that he had to help 
 him to contend against a thousand fears. They 
 vague, shadowy, problematical, gathered like 
 birds of ill omen out of the black gulf which sud 
 denly seemed to open before him. Again he felt 
 the oppression, the horror of his nightmare repeat 
 itself, suffocating him and clogging his limbs. He 
 could not move ; he stood perfectly still and gazed 
 into the shadow. 
 
 Larry, as if conscious that he was no longer a 
 chief actor, stood by, a spectator of events, full of 
 an agitation which was half alarm and half hope. 
 The silence seemed to him terrible. 
 
 Little by little, as Garthe stood peering into the 
 gloom, feeling as if life were suspended, doubt be 
 came suspicion, suspicion became certainty. His 
 forces came back with a sense of meeting a crisis, 
 of doing battle with an enemy. 
 
 u Who is this ? " he demanded, in a low, stern 
 voice. 
 
 " Bella," she answered. 
 
 "My God!" 
 
A DEE AM COME TRUE. 337 
 
 He advanced a step more, drew a match from 
 his pocket, struck it across the heel of his boot, 
 touched the jets in the chandelier and flooded the 
 room with light. 
 
 44 What does this mean ? " he asked. 
 
 He could see her clearly now, bright and alert, 
 with something in her eyes disdainful, almost 
 fierce. 
 
 44 I wanted to see my child," she said with pride 
 and decision. " He is my child as much as he is 
 yours, let you rob me of him as you may." 
 
 The two stood looking at each other. Garthe s 
 thin face had grown pale ; his eyes seemed dull ; 
 they had a giddy, dazed look; his closely folded 
 lips expressed almost a giving way to despair. 
 
 She, too, had changed color, but in a way to put 
 her at her best. At this moment, under the stimu 
 lus of a mixture of emotions, she was beautiful. 
 
 "You are the woman I saw at the opera with 
 Hartley," he said quietly. " Although I could not 
 see your face, an indefinable resemblance haunted 
 me. The color of your hair has changed." 
 
 44 Yes," she exclaimed, with a half laugh, 44 my 
 hair used to be reddish gold when you knew me. 
 It might be rather a pleasant experience to turn 
 brunette after being a blonde, if the change would 
 only go deep enough. But nothing has really 
 changed me. I am the same old Bella, after all. 
 I cannot get another brain, I cannot get another 
 heart." She laughed again, a dreary little laugh. 
 
338 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GAETUE. 
 
 In the ferment of impressions which tested 
 Garthe s self-control, what most made him flinch 
 was the familiarity of every tone of her voice, 
 every turn and twist of expression which showed 
 her mental make-up. 
 
 His predominant feeling was of the outrage she 
 had committed in coming to his house. Yet why 
 had he been so blind, why had he permitted him 
 self and Larry to run the risk of meeting this ter 
 rible enemy ? For she was a terrible, an invincible 
 enemy, an enemy before whom he must lay 
 down his arms. Let him try as he might to be 
 angry, to work himself up into a rage, he knew 
 that such wrath was impotent. It was of no use 
 to be angry. This was Fate, inexorable, appall 
 ing, insisting on the eternal sequence of human 
 actions, the unity of cause and effect. If he had 
 strength for unreasoning rage, let him turn it 
 against himself, against his own fatuity in expect 
 ing anything for his portion except black despair. 
 
 He had suffered before, but not like this. That 
 was the beginning, this was the end. 
 
 Still, what he said was, speaking in the lowest 
 possible voice, " You must go away. You have no 
 right here. No, you have no right." 
 
 Larry, looking into his face, watching the stern 
 unchanging features, and seeing that everything 
 was somehow going strangely wrong, uttered a cry. 
 
 " Oh, papa," he said, with a quivering, appealing 
 accent, " do not say that. Do not be cruel to my 
 
A DREAM COME TRUE. 339 
 
 mamma. You told me she would come ; you told 
 me to be good to her ; I was looking out for her ; 
 I was wishing with all my heart that she would 
 come, and she came. And I love her, I love her 
 so much." 
 
 If anything could better have set the bitter irony 
 of all his hopes clearly before Garthe, it must have 
 been just these words. The contrast between the 
 mother he had yesterday described to the child, 
 pure as one of Raphael s Madonnas, and this 
 woman sent straight up from the Prince of Dark 
 ness, without feeling, without pity, still crowned 
 and triumphant, was too hideous to be borne. 
 
 " What I cannot understand," he said inflexibly, 
 "is why you should come here, how you could 
 dare to come here." 
 
 " Larry is my child," she returned. 
 
 " The child whom you deserted, flung aside as 
 a useless incumbrance." 
 
 " Nevertheless," said Bella, with a thrill in her 
 voice, "the child I have remembered and longed 
 for. Think for a moment, Lawrence ; try to un 
 derstand that a woman may throw away the choi 
 cest gifts of life and then a little later wake up to 
 see the blind fool that she was, the senseless thing 
 she was, the shameless thing she was." She paused 
 a moment and, as if to try the effect of her words 
 upon him, seemed to be waiting for him to speak ; 
 then went on : " Then when she knows that she has 
 forever shut herself out of heaven, can t you ima- 
 
340 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 gine the necessity she is under of crawling on her 
 hands and knees to the gates and looking in ? I 
 only expected to walk by your house this afternoon. 
 It was something to find out where you lived, 
 where my child lived. And there he was at the 
 window, he saw me; did you not, Larry? He 
 seemed to know me by instinct, just as I knew 
 him. He seemed to be watching and waiting for 
 me. He ran to the door to let me in ! " 
 
 Larry, who had listened to this vindication with 
 a mute delight, burst out, " You had told me, you 
 know, papa, that mamma was coming, and I said 
 to myself, 4 Perhaps she will come to-day, and there 
 she was." 
 
 A crimson flush had risen to Garthe s face. 
 
 " I should have supposed," he observed quietly, 
 " that if in all New York there was a house you 
 longed to avoid, to flee from the sight of, it would 
 be the house where I lived." 
 
 " You don t know me ! You have no idea how 
 a woman clings," cried Bella, as if stung by his 
 tone. " But I will go away. I can at least walk 
 up and down outside in the cold and darkness and 
 think that you and Larry are within, warm, com 
 fortable, and happy." 
 
 This cruel suggestion struck the child like a 
 blow. He set up a cry. 
 
 44 Must I go?" she said, taking a step forward 
 and addressing Garthe as if he were a stony-hearted 
 judge. 
 
A DREAM COME TRUE. 341 
 
 He made a gesture as if waiving the question, 
 and walked out of the room. What he expe 
 rienced was a sense that everything in his uni 
 verse had fallen into a condition of chaos, a 
 chaos against which his soul revolted. The im 
 pression was strong upon him that she was not 
 sincere, that she was acting a part, that she 
 had some purpose of her own to attain. Perhaps 
 she wanted money ; most probably she wanted 
 money. His mind recurred to what Hartley had 
 said of her wealth, but no doubt that was the fic 
 tion imposed upon the world by a bold adventuress. 
 What else could she have come for except money ? 
 His thoughts hovered uneasily round this ques 
 tion, never quite settling upon a clear hypothesis. 
 What he was certain of was her egotism, her ca 
 price, her indifference to anything save her own ap 
 pointed end. She knew too, that, let him loathe 
 her as he might, let him be shocked, startled, out 
 raged, he would work her no ill. All she had to 
 do was to plant herself in his path and he would 
 part with anything he possessed save the boy, to 
 get rid of her. 
 
 " Yes, she wants more money," he said, imposing 
 the formula upon himself as if it carried with it a 
 sort of relief. But it was a mere formula. At 
 heart he cared for nothing except the fact of her 
 existence; the fact that he had believed that he 
 had forever escaped from her, but that he had not 
 escaped from her, that he never could escape 
 
342 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 from her. He could no more escape this implaca 
 ble enemy than he could escape from his own iden 
 tity. She was forever a part of himself. He had 
 married her; she had been his wife; she was 
 Larry s mother. Whether she were true or false, 
 repentant or callous, whether she had come out of 
 levity and idleness or with a purpose, whether she 
 were a loving mother or a heartless mother, it did 
 not alter the fact of her existence. It could not 
 be reasoned away ; it was no matter of selection, of 
 choice, even of equity and of law. Divorce af 
 fected nothing but the superficial outside situation. 
 He had, eight years before, honestly chosen her for 
 his wife, and nothing could alter that fact. He 
 could no more take her out of his life, undo the 
 circumstance of her being Larry s mother, than he 
 could himself enter again into his mother s womb 
 and be born anew. 
 
 The fetters were upon him ; he could not wrestle, 
 he could not attempt to shake off the bondage. 
 He was again a captive, a captive without hope 
 of release. 
 
 He stood in the hall, rooted to the floor. 
 
 Button came up and inquired whether he should 
 tell Amelia to serve dinner. 
 
 Garthe started, stared. Button repeated the 
 question. 
 
 "Oh, yes, serve dinner if it is ready." 
 
 " Will the lady stay ? " 
 
 " I think it probable. Set a place for her." 
 
A DEE AM GOME TRUE. 343 
 
 Garthe s tone was so quiet, Button was reassured. 
 Perhaps after all the incident was not so startling 
 as it had seemed. 
 
 Garthe took a turn in the hall, with his hand 
 pressing his forehead. It seemed to him he was the 
 slave of the events which compelled him against 
 his free choice. 
 
 " Yet a man must be very fastidious indeed if 
 he cannot sit down to a meal with the woman he 
 has married and made the mother of his offspring," 
 he said almost audibly, smitten by a sense of the 
 irony of things. 
 
 There lay the sting for him, and for her there 
 was the undeniable fact which made her defeat a 
 victory, her humiliation a triumph. He could not 
 permit the recollection to burn into Larry s mind, 
 to become a part of his lifelong consciousness, that 
 his mother had come as a suppliant and been cast 
 out. No, that must not be. Better any sacrifice. 
 And after all, it could do no harm, the harm 
 was done years ago ; the shame, the intolerable 
 disgrace of it had been a part of the world s record 
 for six years. Let her stay, Larry would be 
 sleepy presently ; he would be put to bed. Then 
 for five minutes clear and concise questioning and 
 pressing to the point of finding out the object of 
 this visit, and she should be dismissed. If she 
 were to be bought off, he would buy her off. If 
 her intention was simply to humiliate, thwart, and 
 hinder his life, he would again take Larry and 
 
344 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 put the " unplumbed salt estranging seas " between 
 him and her. 
 
 lie went back to the library. 
 
 Bella was sitting in the low chair before the 
 fire, with Larry kneeling on her lap. His hands 
 rested on her shoulders, his little cherub face was 
 all alive with light. He was telling her about his 
 locomotive engine. 
 
 " I 11 get it and show it to you, mamma," he was 
 saying as his father entered. 
 
 " Wait until after dinner, Larry," said Garthe 
 quietly. " Now we will go out to table." 
 
 Bella gave him a humble, grateful glance. 
 
 " Do you mean that I " she faltered. 
 
 "Dinner is ready. Larry shall take you out to 
 dinner." 
 
 His composure, his absolute calmness, seemed to 
 strike her powerfully. She remembered him as 
 a young fellow of twenty-three or four, at first her 
 puppet, then a man in the meshes of a net, striking 
 out recklessly to free himself. This was a develop 
 ment which stirred curiosity, almost awe. He felt 
 her glance and turned away. She smiled to her 
 self, put Larry down on the floor, and rose to her 
 feet. 
 
 " I will take off my bonnet," she said, emulating 
 Garthe s composure, and with a pretty woman s 
 instinct glancing round for a mirror. 
 
 " Here is a glass in this cabinet," he said, step 
 ping back. His eyes lingered on her as she stood 
 
A DREAM COME TRUE. 345 
 
 regarding her own image, giving a touch to the 
 light curls about her forehead, and settling her 
 brooch more securely at her throat. She was at 
 once so familiar and so strange to his perception ! 
 When he had last seen her she had been a slim, 
 lithe young creature, with an arch face which 
 gained piquancy from its contrast of dark eyes and 
 eyebrows and golden hair. Now her figure had 
 rounded, her hair had grown dark, and the whole 
 woman had gained symmetry and, perhaps, beauty. 
 She had on a gown of black satin, touched here and 
 there with a bead of jet, which fitted her form as 
 if moulded upon it. At her throat was a heavy 
 bar of gold studded with diamonds. Both hands 
 glittered with rings, but they were the same slender, 
 pretty hands she had had as a girl ; indeed she had, 
 except for the deepened tint of her hair, changed 
 very little. 
 
 She could see in the mirror that his eyes rested 
 on her, and she did not turn away until he had 
 looked his fill. Then she stepped forward, her 
 cheeks crimson. A feeling of intense exultation, 
 boundless, intoxicating, had swept through her as 
 she felt his gaze. After all, she had been his first 
 love, and that sort of man, she said within herself, 
 is constant by instinct, by habit, by the very limita 
 tions of his mind. Who knew what might drift 
 up from the unknown ? She predicted nothing, ex 
 pected nothing. She would not adopt any settled 
 plan of action, only try to be sufficient to the mo- 
 
346 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 inent, to meet the event, to iniss nothing through 
 want of pliancy or tact. 
 
 She put her hand in Larry s to be led out to the 
 table. The moment his eyes fell on the cover laid 
 at Garthe s right hand he burst out, " Oh, papa, 
 may not mamma sit next to me ? " 
 
 u Wherever you please, my little son." 
 
 The table was small and round ; Button changed 
 the place, and drew a chair opposite to that of his 
 master. She seemed to hesitate ; then, raising her 
 eyes to Garthe s with a look of mute gratitude, she 
 sat down. He glanced back, apparently with abso 
 lute indifference. 
 
 " I want you where I can put my hand on you, 
 mamma," said Larry. " I want to feel your gown. 
 It is so soft, and it shines like stars. You said she 
 would wear pretty gowns, papa." 
 
 Garthe s face was impenetrable. He seemed 
 neither to see the pleading expression of the eyes 
 raised to his face, nor to hear Larry s words. Bella 
 had nevertheless a triumphant consciousness that, let 
 him command himself as he might, he could never be 
 indifferent. She knew the passionate nature of the 
 man too well to believe he could look at her coldly ; 
 whether towards hatred or towards love, she was 
 sure somehow to move him. Then, too, he was full 
 of penetration and insight, he was never dull, never 
 inattentive, never forgetful. Audacious although 
 she tried to be, she was still a little frightened, 
 under the thrill of a conviction that something 
 
A DEE AM COME TRUE. 347 
 
 momentous was happening. And he ! He was cer 
 tain to be conscious of her nearness. They were 
 face to face, nothing between them save a yard 
 or so of table, with a dish of oranges and hothouse 
 grapes in the centre. 
 
 They had sat in just this same way before, and 
 with Larry between them, but with a difference. 
 The nicety of the appointments of this dinner-table, 
 the extreme care bestowed on each detail of the ser 
 vice, was an index of the man. His fastidiousness, 
 his irrational standards, his dislike of disorder, 
 confusion, makeshifts, had been the first entering 
 wedge which had finally separated them. His re 
 quirements had always suggested an experience of 
 which she was jealous. Now with her present en 
 largement of knowledge she understood him better. 
 She wondered of what he was thinking ; of what 
 could he be thinking except of her ? No clear line 
 of demarcation between past and present could exist 
 while they sat here face to face. And in that past 
 he had been her puppet, her suppliant, regarding 
 her smiles and frowns as the uncertain glory of an 
 April day, loving her when she yielded, better 
 still when she showed him invincible caprice. 
 
 Garthe s grip upon himself was the result of an 
 tagonistic impulses. He was certainly in no danger 
 of forgetting that this was the travesty of the old 
 situation, throwing upon everything that had hap 
 pened since a garish light of mockery. But his 
 personal feeling of outrage and indignity was 
 
348 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTUE. 
 
 subordinated to other needs of the moment. Larry, 
 bashful but swelling with pride, felt himself to be 
 the hero of the hour ; for, kindled by Bella s quick 
 sympathy, he talked incessantly, turning occasion 
 ally to his father to draw him into the rapid dialogue. 
 Bella as well was caught up by the spirit of the 
 moment into something resembling gayety, then 
 would check herself and glance over at the quiet 
 figure opposite with the clearly cut face and indom 
 itable eyes. 
 
 He was conscious of her least sentence, of every 
 play of feature. He knew what the old Bella had 
 been ; naive, excitable, restless, loving tropical sensa 
 tion, with a vanity which hindered any real develop 
 ment. He had at first seen in the girl s mobility 
 and quick intelligence high promise. What he had 
 found incalculable was her lack of heart, her revolt 
 against any course of action which hindered her free 
 play. He had easily come to believe that she had 
 never cared for himself. Had she loved the man 
 for whom she had deserted him ? She was the 
 kind of woman for whom he would have predicted 
 swift deterioration. Had she stood still ? Can a 
 man or woman stand still, without either rising 
 or falling? How was it possible for a woman, 
 after breaking every tie and obligation, not to 
 have declined? Yet the more he looked at her, 
 the more she seemed to him subdued, softened, de 
 veloped. Heaven keep him from any knowledge 
 of what her experiences had been, but at all events 
 
A DREAM COME TRUE. 349 
 
 she showed at this moment the dignity, the soft 
 feminine charm he had missed in the old days. 
 She was far handsomer than as a girl, but this 
 beauty and fuller symmetry came from good living 
 and careful grooming. It was clear that she at 
 least understood her own advantages, had herself 
 well in hand, could it be possible that she was a 
 little coquettish? Did she perhaps dream of re- 
 subjugating him ? The sudden fit of savage feel 
 ing that swept over him came in part from a 
 perception that what has once been a man s ruling 
 motive must be eternally his ruling fate, that 
 actually a man loves once, just as he is born once 
 and dies once ; that passion once experienced, even 
 when it becomes the most accursed of recollections, 
 is never quite extinct. Why had he suffered this 
 woman to stay in his house ? Why had he been 
 moved to think that she had developed, grown 
 better, when all she could have learned must be 
 the better how to pretend ? 
 
 " Is n t this nice, papa? " said Larry, seeing the 
 cloud thicken on his father s brow, and trying to 
 draw him into the talk. 
 
 "Very nice for me," Bella hastened to say as 
 Garthe remained silent. " You and your papa have 
 each other every day." 
 
 " But we did n t use to have you every day, 
 mamma," said Larry. 
 
 " I cannot feel that you missed me," Bella sighed ; 
 then asked, " How long have you lived here?" 
 
350 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Larry looked eagerly at his father. 
 
 " Since last June, at least, I bought the house 
 then," said Garthe. 
 
 At this breaking of the silence on his father s 
 part, Larry smiled with ineffable self-content, 
 feeling that his desire was accomplished. With 
 his head on one side like a sagacious parrot, 
 he went on repeating his father s words and ex 
 plaining that they did not live there in the sum 
 mer, but went climbing high mountains, sailing in 
 ships, and swimming in seas. At first he was 
 afraid to go into the water, although he had seen 
 little babies in the canal tied to a board, then 
 his papa had taken him in his strong arms and had 
 walked with the waves coming up about them, 
 and he had liked it. " There is nobody like 
 papa," he said, beaming, " he is so strong and so 
 sure." 
 
 " I know," murmured Bella, " there is nobody 
 like your papa." 
 
 Garthe made a restless movement. 
 
 " Up in the mountains," continued Larry, " he 
 put a little wheel in a brook, which went round 
 and round under a waterfall. There is nothing 
 my papa cannot do." 
 
 "I know," said Bella, "there is nothing your 
 papa cannot do." 
 
 She looked at the face opposite, which showed at 
 this moment nothing but imperious disdain. 
 
 "You mix everything up, Larry," he said 
 
A DEE AM COME TRUE. 351 
 
 " You talk of what happened in Europe as if we 
 were there last summer." 
 
 " Let him tell me all he can. I know so little," 
 she said with an imploring accent. 
 
 She plied the boy with questions. What did 
 he like best? When and how was he happiest? 
 Was he always well and strong? 
 
 No ; once, Larry said, he had been very ill ; he 
 had to lie in bed, although it burned him; he 
 could not keep his head still ; oh, it was terrible ! 
 Then his father took him in his arms and walked 
 and sang to him and put him in comfortable 
 places, and at last he felt quiet and could get little 
 naps, and if he woke up there was his father close 
 beside him. 
 
 " He kept sitting there for a whole week, or 
 was it a month, papa ? " said Larry triumphantly. 
 "And when I woke up he would say, You are 
 getting well fast, Larry, and I would say, 4 Yes, 
 I m getting well fast. You were glad, were n t 
 you, papa, that I got well ? " 
 
 Garthe nodded and put down his hand on the 
 little hand extended towards him. 
 
 " Some boys don t get well," Larry explained 
 with significance to Bella. "There was Hobby 
 Vandam I used to play with. One day he had 
 to be sent home from school and he never came 
 back any more. They said he choked up and 
 could n t breathe, though they cut a hole in his 
 throat." 
 
352 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " Don t tell such dreadful things," said Bella 
 with a shudder. Her eye met Garthe s, and she 
 felt as if he read in her face that whole miserable 
 story of her losing her little girl baby by diph 
 theria, Danvers-Carr s child ; and although her 
 look pleaded with him for forgiveness, his said that 
 he had not forgiven, that he would not forgive. 
 
 Illusion gained ground rapidly in her mind, 
 nevertheless. Any one looking on, she said to 
 herself, might think that they were making an ex 
 periment to discover whether their alienation were 
 hopeless, whether their solicitude for the child 
 might not be strong enough to shape their future 
 lives. She laid herself out more and more to 
 please Larry. At dessert she tempted him to draw 
 his chair close to hers. She laid the little head 
 against her shoulder, she kissed him, laughed in 
 his face when his eyes melted with delicious lan 
 guor. When she saw Garthe flush and straighten 
 himself uneasily, she knew that she had touched 
 him to the quick. Oh, to make him jealous ! She 
 expended all her sweetness on the child ; she could 
 well afford to risk some coquetry, show all her 
 power of pleasing. 
 
 " He is asleep," said Garthe suddenly in a harsh 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes, he is asleep," she returned, and then 
 leaned her cheek against the boy s temple, mute. 
 
 The two were alone. Button had left the room. 
 For a moment there was silence. Then Garthe 
 
A DREAM COME TRUE. 353 
 
 pushed back his chair, rose, and went round the 
 table. 
 
 " I will take him," he said. 
 
 She looked up, and he looked down. Her face 
 showed a conflict of feelings, his was cold and 
 grave. 
 
 "Must he go?" she asked with a long-drawn 
 sigh. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 But she would not aid him by the least move 
 ment. The boy lay heavily against her breast, her 
 arm was round him, his hand in hers. Her fear 
 less eyes interrogated Garthe s as he bent towards 
 her, but his did not make response. He looked 
 like a man claiming his own. Very dexterously 
 and very tenderly, at least where the child was 
 concerned, he continued to draw the burden away 
 from her. One might have seen strange pathos 
 in the situation : mother and child come together 
 by strange accident from the ends of the earth for 
 an hour, then separated by this remorseless fate ; 
 all this love, sweetness, clinging need, was to dis 
 appear and leave no trace. 
 
 " Let me kiss him once more," said Bella. She 
 embraced the child in his father s clasp. Garthe 
 was conscious of a distinct and increasing pressure 
 of her hand and arm upon his own hand and arm. 
 
 He no longer delayed, but, lifting the recumbent 
 figure to his shoulder, carried the little fellow out 
 of the room. 
 
354 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 Amelia was in the hall. 
 
 " Shall I put him to bed, sir ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, I will carry him up myself." 
 
 At the top of the flight he paused and waited 
 far Amelia. 
 
 " Oh, sir," she exclaimed breathlessly, " has she 
 come to carry him off ? " 
 
 All the blood rushed to Garthe s face. 
 
 " Carry him off ? Not while I am alive." 
 
 " Is she really his mother, sir ? " 
 
 " She is." He paused a moment, then went on. 
 " It is better that you should understand the facts. I 
 married her when I was twenty-three. In two years 
 she left me for another man. There was a divorce." 
 
 The woman vented a sigh of relief. 
 
 " She is not going to stay here and live with you, 
 then?" 
 
 " Stay here ? " a whirlwind of anger crossed his 
 face. " How can you speak of such a thing ?" 
 
 "It is a terribly stormy night, sir," suggested 
 Amelia, with a manner of peculiar significance. 
 " Button was saying there was a deep drift of snow 
 already up to the doorstep." 
 
 Garthe reflected a moment. 
 
 " I suppose Button is going out." 
 
 " Yes, sir, after a little." 
 
 "Tell him to send a carriage here, a good, 
 close carriage with two horses ; at once, as soon 
 as possible. But no, here, take the boy, Amelia; 
 I will speak to Button myself." 
 
A DREAM COME TRUE. 355 
 
 Garthe plunged down the staircase. His mood 
 was combative. If for an hour he had not asserted 
 his right to put distance between Larry and this 
 woman, any hesitation, any indecision, was now at 
 an end. Out of sheer tenderness for the boy, out 
 of a dread of defining the situation too clearly, of 
 striking some jarring chord which might hurt the 
 boy all his life, he had abstained. He did not yet 
 regret it, but perhaps he had made a mistake. The 
 feeling was strong upon him now that he must 
 make no more mistakes. 
 
 When he reached the lower floor he saw that 
 Bella had left the dining-room and now stood just 
 over the threshold of the library, as if afraid to 
 advance. Garthe walked along the hall, summoned 
 Button from the pantry, and told him to go for 
 a carriage. Then without a moment s pause he 
 entered the library and closed the door from the 
 dining-room behind him. 
 
 She still stood as if uncertain of the event. 
 
 " Am I to be sent away ? " she asked, moving 
 a step nearer him, and looking at him intently. 
 Garthe halted at a pace s distance from her. 
 
 " Button will go for a carriage," he said quietly. 
 " Before it comes I wish you to tell me what object 
 you had in coming here. I am anxious to know." 
 
 " Was it so strange I should wish to come here ? " 
 
 " To me, very strange." 
 
 " Strange that I should long to see my child ? " 
 
 Her face with all its glow and intensity had a 
 
35G THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 curious expression of pain, of perplexity, of timid 
 ity, of dependence. 
 
 " Very strange," he repeated. 
 
 44 What if I should confess I had some desire 
 also to see you ? " she went on. 
 
 " That is too incredible." 
 
 " Incredible," she repeated with a little laugh, 
 yet still with a manner which suggested that his 
 words stung her, " because you have no interest in 
 me, no curiosity concerning me." 
 
 44 I have no right to feel any interest concerning 
 you. You went your way, and God forbid that 
 ever with my most idle fancy I should attempt to 
 follow you. My only curiosity is to find out your 
 reason for intruding on me to-night, in order that 
 any further invasion shall be out of the question." 
 
 She retreated a step as he spoke, put up her 
 hand as if to ward off a blow. 
 
 44 Can t you see ? " he went on, " that you are my 
 worst enemy ? After the ruin you have brought 
 upon our lives, Larry s and mine, you ought to be 
 satisfied. The sharper the scourge to me the 
 keener your exultation, no doubt ; but this humilia 
 tion shall not be repeated. First, let me under 
 stand what you want of me, and I shall then know 
 how to protect myself." 
 
 She was not looking at him, but about the room, 
 and spoke now as if addressing some invisible spec 
 tator. 
 
 44 He tells me of the ruin I have brought upon 
 
A DREAM COME TRUE. 357 
 
 his life, yet here he lives with my only child, and 
 with all that money can give ! " 
 
 " Hitherto, you have had a certain sum from me 
 each month," Garthe proceeded, his voice never ris 
 ing above the low, impassive note he had first 
 struck. " It ought to provide you with the comforts 
 of life, but if you have involved yourself in debt I 
 will help you. It has been my habit to limit my 
 own wants in order to insure comfort for the boy." 
 
 " Oh, you are so kind, so hideously kind, so 
 cold, so remote ! " she said. " I should suppose 
 you had no memory." 
 
 " I have too much memory." 
 
 " But, after all, I am Larry s mother." 
 
 " No possible plea could put you so absolutely 
 in the wrong. Of course, you are Larry s mother ; 
 that is the reason I have so far borne with you." 
 
 " You do not seem to feel any pity for me." 
 
 " Why should I pity you ? " 
 
 " For having thrown away my life ; for having in 
 my ignorance, my childishness, believed that some 
 where outside of my life with you lay what I 
 thought I longed for. Think how young I was, 
 how crude. That callous, untaught creature had 
 nothing to do with the woman I am now. I do not 
 know her, I despise her, I disown her ; yet I have 
 to bear the sins she committed, have to be everlast 
 ingly the victim of her folly and wickedness. I 
 have to go on and finish the life she spoiled for me " 
 
 Bella, as she spoke, had retreated from him step 
 
358 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 by step, and now turned to the end of the mantel 
 piece, put her hands on it, and dropped her head 
 upon them. Garthe stood stupefied and incredu 
 lous, looking at her. Her tones and gestures sug 
 gested tragic acting, yet her words brought up a 
 crowd of suggestions. 
 
 " Do not expect pity from me, of all men," he 
 said. " Turn to some of the others." 
 
 " Don t insult me," she said, with a sob, and her 
 whole figure shook with emotion. 
 
 " I had no intention of insulting you. I wished 
 to emphasize the fact that you were once my wife, 
 that now you are not my wife, and that there is 
 just that bar in the way of your counting on my 
 pity and sympathy." 
 
 " You do not seem to realize that when a woman 
 loves a man as I " 
 
 " Don t tell me you love me, that you ever loved 
 me," he said peremptorily. "You took me at a 
 moment when it seemed as if I could offer you 
 something to your liking, then when you were dis 
 appointed you flung me aside. Nothing held you, 
 no habit, no instinct, no common loyalty, certainly 
 no love. Forgive my seeming brutal, I have no 
 wish to be cruel. I only wish to show you that 
 facts are inexorable things." 
 
 She raised her head, turned slowly, and looked at 
 him. 
 
 " I did love you," she said excitedly. " You are 
 the only man I ever loved." 
 
. A DEEAM COME TRUE. 359 
 
 She said it quite simply, but the glow and fire 
 of her eyes and lips made the words appear as if 
 she flung them out from a passion too strong to be 
 suppressed or concealed. He could see her hands 
 tremble, he could see the convulsive quivering of 
 her lips. It was this suggestion of womanly weak 
 ness that set his heart beating. 
 
 " What a man does not understand," she went 
 on, "is that a woman wants to be sure of his love, 
 that she is tempted to put it to strange trials." 
 
 He had regained his equilibrium. 
 
 " You put my love to such incredible trials that 
 no wonder it did not survive the test," he said 
 calmly. 
 
 " Then you never loved me ! " 
 
 " Possibly not ; I was a boy a boy of strong 
 imagination. Say I never loved you." 
 
 " But you did love me," she cried impetuously. 
 " Unless I had had that recollection to live on I 
 should have died long ago. You loved me dearly, 
 Lawrence, you cannot deny it." 
 
 " Have it as you will." 
 
 " You loved me with all your heart, as a man can 
 love but once in his life. A woman does not for 
 get," she made a step towards him. " I am 
 about ready to believe," she whispered, "that you 
 love me still." 
 
 " Have it any way that pleases you ; I have no 
 inclination to test my feelings, past or present, 
 towards you. There is the stubborn, unalterable 
 
360 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 fact that we arc divorced. What use you made of 
 your freedom I never inquired. If I could love a 
 woman who vanished into darkness, thick uncom 
 promising darkness I can have no wish to pene 
 trate, I must be a fool, doomed to illusion." 
 
 " I am a widow," she said, lifting her head. 
 
 " A widow ? " he repeated, as if incredulous. 
 
 " I am the widow of Aurelio Hernandez, who 
 died a year and a half ago." 
 
 " Be it so," said Gar the with a shrug, as if still 
 skeptical. " I recall Hartley s speaking of his hav 
 ing made the acquaintance of a Mrs. Hernandez, 
 but I did not suspect that you were she." 
 
 " You have heard, then, of the rich Mrs. Her- 
 nandoz," she said with singular complacency. 
 
 " Yes, I had heard of the rich Mrs. Hernan 
 dez." 
 
 " Yet you thought I came to you as a beggar," 
 she laughed. " Go ask my" lawyer and my bank 
 ers if I need an extra hundred or so a month." 
 
 " I congratulate you on having attained your am 
 bition," he said quietly. It was clear that she was 
 reinstated in her own esteem, now that she could 
 appear under her true colors, and as if with an air 
 of relief at being through with playing a part she 
 sank languidly and gracefully into a chair before 
 the fire. 
 
 46 You remember," she said, leaning back and 
 glancing at him, "that I always wanted to be 
 rich." 
 
A DEE AM COME TRUE. 361 
 
 " Yes, I remember that you always wanted to be 
 rich." 
 
 " Ah, you remember ; " she clasped her hands at 
 the back of her head, and looked up into his face. 
 The attitude, the smile, the tone of familiarity, ad 
 dressed his consciousness. She went on : "I always 
 wanted to be rich, I thought the having what 
 one wanted the end of existence. Now, I see the 
 facts of life more clearly. Do you remember a red 
 frock you brought me from Frisco? " 
 
 He was fretted by this personal tone, by this 
 breaking down of barriers, by this intimacy. She 
 saw that he flushed. 
 
 "Nothing ever pleased me so much as that 
 frock," she said. " Now-a-days, I have big boxes 
 of clothes from Paris, but I would give anything 
 for" 
 
 She had put up her hand and touched his arm. 
 
 He broke through the net in which he was half 
 entangled. 
 
 "What can be the use of this?" he asked. 
 " Looked at simply from the point of good taste 
 such reminiscences are abhorrent." 
 
 " Oh, you are hard, hard, hard," she cried. " If 
 somehow I could reach you, speak to your heart." 
 
 He began to pace the room. She sprang up and 
 blocked his path. "You want this ended," she 
 said. 
 
 " Yes ; since you are so rich, you cannot have 
 come to me for more money." 
 
362 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " No, I did not come for money." 
 
 " Yet I suppose there is something." 
 
 " Yes ; I want you to give Larry to me." 
 
 " I give Larry to you ? " 
 
 His tone and look implied that what she asked 
 was not only impossible, but inconceivable. Yet at 
 the same moment it was clear from his change of 
 color, from the flash of his eye, that she had for the 
 first time touched him to the quick, had indeed 
 alarmed him. Not that in measuring himself 
 against her he found her a dangerous adversary, 
 but he had become conscious of her inexhaustible 
 resources. What an ingenious diversity of tricks, 
 what clever feints, and what well-dealt blows ! 
 
 " No," he added ; " I shall not give Larry to you." 
 
 But she saw that she had roused something in 
 him which had not hitherto leaped into life, and 
 what had at the moment been a mere dexterous turn 
 ing of the subject, became all at once a powerful 
 lever in her hands. 
 
 " But I could do so much for him," she said. 
 " He shall have every advantage that my wealth 
 can give him." 
 
 Garthe made a gesture. 
 
 " I should rather have him brought up in the 
 direst poverty." 
 
 " But he loves me ! " she pleaded with an appeal 
 ing face and accent. 
 
 " He knows no evil yet. He is ready to love all 
 the world." 
 
A DREAM COME TRUE. 363 
 
 " Keep him from all knowledge of evil," she said 
 more and more timidly and eloquently. " He did 
 love me ; you saw that his heart went out to me. 
 He has need of me." 
 
 " He has had need of a mother, but you failed 
 him." 
 
 " I will make up to him. I will atone. It is all 
 I ask for, all I want to do. Why might it not be 
 possible 
 
 He looked at her steadily. 
 
 " Why might not what be possible ? " 
 
 " For me to live here." 
 
 They faced each other in silence, that ques 
 tion between them. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A TEST. 
 
 " I CAN hardly suppose that you are in earnest," 
 Garthe said, after a pause. " Nothing could be 
 more absolutely impossible." 
 
 " But look at it from a practical point of 
 view." 
 
 " I will not look at it from any point of view," 
 he cried. 
 
 " But I am his mother," she went on speaking, 
 always softly, as if treading in a sacred place ; " no 
 other woman can be his mother. You are no 
 longer a boy ; you can look at things from a man of 
 the world s standpoint. I could do so much for you 
 both ! We could be legally re-united ; nobody " 
 
 He shuddered, his face darkened. 
 
 " Drop the subject," he said imperiously. 
 
 " Of course it startles you at first," she went on 
 softly and persuasively, " but it is the best thing 
 that can happen to all three of us. The whole 
 arrangement should be on the terms which pleased 
 you. I would make no demands, insist on nothing. 
 I would accept anything, bear with anything for 
 the sake of having Larry ; he should be the link 
 between us." 
 
A TEST. 365 
 
 If for a moment a fit of savage feeling had taken 
 possession of him, as her tone softened in question 
 ing, as she gazed at him with a look of absolute 
 humility, he experienced a reaction. Had he done 
 her injustice ? Was she actually in earnest ? 
 
 " Of course," she proceeded, " everything would 
 be for his sake. I should not for a moment be 
 lieve that you did it for mine ; I should know that 
 you did not love me, that you could never love me, 
 but I should try possibly to teach you to believe 
 in me, to show you that I am not wholly the poor 
 creature you take me for. I ask for nothing ex 
 cept to be here in the same house with you, 
 seeing you or not seeing you. I should leave 
 everything to your generosity. I feel as if I 
 could be contented if I had the chance to know 
 something of you, to do something for you. It 
 might make me feel that after all my life had 
 some meaning, some centre ; and perhaps I 
 might build up in your sight a character which 
 could " She broke off. "But no matter," she 
 went on in a different voice. " It is no question of 
 doing anything for me. But even you must feel it 
 is the best thing that could happen to Larry." 
 
 " I do not admit that," he said instantly. 
 
 " I don t wonder you are prejudiced against me, 
 I do not wonder you are hard, that " She 
 came towards him. Her face was pale, her eyes 
 were brimming with tears. " I suppose what you 
 care for is habit, prosperity, the world s opinion,- 
 
366 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 but even in that way it would be better for you 
 both. My money would " 
 
 " Don t allude to your money," he said. " I do 
 not want your money, either for myself or for 
 Larry." 
 
 " I know you do not want it, and I only 
 mentioned it because don t you see my real 
 motive, Lawrence ? Lawrence ! Lawrence ! look 
 at me. All I think of is that She had put 
 her hand on his arm ; she leaned heavily forward ; 
 her cheek touched his shoulder. 
 
 At this moment came a knock at the door. 
 
 Garthe had stood as if stupefied, conscious of the 
 thrill of feeling which passed through him, but of 
 little else. At this sound, he put the form which 
 leaned upon him more and more heavily, aside. He 
 drew a long breath, as if released from a night 
 mare. " Sit down," he said to Bella. 
 
 " Come in," he called, and Amelia opened the 
 door, with a troubled face. 
 
 " The carriage has gone, sir," she said. 
 
 " The carriage gone ? " stammered Garthe. 
 
 " The man rang the bell at ten o clock, to say he 
 could not stay any longer on such a night," Amelia 
 went on. " I told him to wait, and you would pay 
 him well. Then at half past ten he rang again, and 
 said for no money would he let the horses be out 
 until after eleven. I begged him to wait until 
 eleven. But now it is eleven and he has gone." 
 
 "Gone?" 
 
A TEST. 367 
 
 " Gone, sir." 
 
 "You should have told me what the man said." 
 
 " I knocked, sir ; I have knocked three times, but 
 you took no notice. I did not like to seem to dis 
 turb you, sir, when you had a strange visitor." 
 
 "There must be another carriage at once. Is 
 Button here ? " 
 
 " No sir, this is his night for duty at the Denby." 
 
 " I will go myself." 
 
 " I don t think, sir, you could get a carriage for 
 love or money, at this time of night, and such a 
 dreadful night. The drifts are higher than a man s 
 head." 
 
 " I will see." 
 
 Garthe had, so far, spoken and acted mechani 
 cally, and it was not until he crossed the room, 
 walked along the hall, opened first the door, then 
 the outer door of the vestibule, and encountered 
 the icy blast and a swirl of snow, that his brain 
 cleared. The street was lighted with gas, and at 
 the corner was an electric lamp ; he seemed to be 
 looking into a white mist, so dense was the mass 
 of the driven snow. As he opened the door, a 
 little avalanche had swept into the vestibule. He 
 stood for a moment, gazing straight before him. 
 He saw, as by a blinding flash, the whole difficulty 
 of the situation. The conviction which gained 
 ground in some recess of his brain was, "She 
 planned it. She intended that just this should 
 happen." 
 
368 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 lie turned round before he saw that Bella had 
 put on her wraps, and was now standing just be 
 hind him. 
 
 44 Of course you cannot go," he said. 44 The 
 idea is absurd." 
 
 44 But I must go." 
 
 44 1 do not think it would be possible to procure 
 a carriage. Of course it is impossible that you 
 should go." 
 
 44 1 can walk ; I am strong, I " 
 
 Garthe had clanged to the outside door, and now, 
 putting a hand on each of her shoulders, he pressed 
 her forward into the hall, and closed the inner 
 door. 
 
 44 It is utterly out of the question. You will 
 stay here all night. Amelia, take this lady to the 
 room above; make her comfortable, and if she 
 wishes it, stay with her." lie glanced towards 
 Bella. 44 The whole second floor is at your disposal," 
 he said. 44 1 will bid you good-night." 
 
 He went into the library, and closed the door 
 behind him. 
 
 Again, from some corner of his brain came that 
 insistent thought : 44 She planned it. She intended 
 that just this should happen." 
 
 He locked first one door and then another, as 
 if feeling himself beleaguered by foes. Then he 
 stood still in the centre of the floor, and looked 
 round the room, as if trying to understand where 
 he was, what he was, and what this thing was 
 
A TEST. 369 
 
 which had happened to him. The most wretched 
 thoughts swarmed in his mind, reminiscences of the 
 remote past, impressions of the present. Twice 
 he struck his forehead with his clenched fist, as if 
 to rouse himself from dreams to actualities, for it 
 seemed impossible to think coherently. His men 
 tal operations consisted of mechanical repetitions 
 of the same sentences : " She planned it ; she in 
 tended that just this should happen ; " then in an 
 other tone, " It shall not be, it shall not be, it 
 shall not be ; " then again, " Temptress, shame 
 less ! " All the recollections, forecasts, and imagin 
 ings he could summon seemed to be comprised in 
 this set of formulas, which he went through, again 
 and again, as if his brain revolved in the same cir 
 cle of images, impressions, as if introspection 
 meant nothing to him but this sequence of ideas. 
 He recalled the moment of his entering the house 
 that evening ; the feeling of shame and horror with 
 which the image of that woman took shape out of 
 the firelight and shadows in this room ; his feeling 
 that he was at another crisis of his fate, a man 
 pushed by destiny. Had he been weak ? Had he 
 permitted himself to be mastered by his imagina 
 tion ? Had he lacked decision and judgment, self- 
 control ? Had his concession, his magnanimity, 
 been an apology for cowardice ? At this moment, 
 humiliated, perplexed, with all his lights astray, 
 he was ready to accuse himself of any weakness. 
 Once before she had dragged him through the dust, 
 
370 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 but it seemed to him now, looking back, that 
 through that ordeal he had walked proudly and 
 easily. Then he had felt that magnanimity, that 
 generosity was irreconcilable with his self-respect ; 
 then he had not told himself that a false wife was 
 a mere accidental obstacle in a man s path, which 
 a little legal tinkering could do away with. No, 
 then he would have no part or lot with the evil 
 thing. This feeling of humiliation, of having been 
 thrown out of his path, of not being wholly master 
 of himself, pressed upon him. 
 
 " Temptress ! Shameless one ! " he ejaculated, 
 with a gesture as if shaking off a hateful thing. 
 
 But although he uttered these words aloud, 
 although he kept his mind fixed on the clear facts 
 of his own history, and this inevitable sequence, he 
 was conscious that he did this in order to push 
 away a rush of ideas still more intolerable. So far 
 he had not dared to think of his own lost happiness, 
 of the crushing shame he felt at the thought that 
 the girl he loved must hear of what had befallen 
 him. 
 
 Then suddenly he fell on his knees. 
 
 " Constance ! Constance ! Constance ! " he said, 
 under his breath. He bent his head forward on 
 some chance support, and remained there fixed and 
 motionless. The heart in the man cried out at 
 last with a sense of pain, of disappointment, which 
 could no longer be deadened, and along with it, 
 rage against himself, remorse even. He had not 
 
A TEST. 371 
 
 been truthful and candid ; he had not been faithful 
 to the rules which had for years been the guide of 
 his life ; and for these omissions there is a price 
 which the gods exact. He did not for a moment 
 palter with the plain fact that he had lost Con 
 stance ; any other idea was wholly irrational. He 
 rose to his feet and stood for a moment, revolving 
 the situation in his mind. She must hear of this 
 woman now ; the fact would be notorious, her en 
 trance into his house, her staying under the same 
 roof with him. The news was sure to be told, and 
 such a bit of gossip is at once a devouring dragon. 
 No man can cope with it. It was horrible to pic 
 ture the facts as they must be imparted to her. It 
 was inconceivable that she should ever again re 
 gard him with kind feelings. He saw all the con 
 sequences at a glance. She was a sweet woman, a 
 pure woman, a saint ; but such was the situation, 
 there was no possible justification for him. And 
 indeed, where else should chastisement fall, except 
 on him ? 
 
 Yet he suffered as he thought of her belief in 
 him, so frankly, so generously avowed, going to 
 death. He stretched out his arms, as if he felt a 
 longing to escape from fetters. A wife playing the 
 part of returned prodigal ! A wife he seemed not 
 to have rejected ! Could it be that this thing had 
 happened to him ? That, entangled, as by the cun 
 ning of the devil, he was henceforth to be bound ? 
 That this odious and impossible relation was to be 
 
372 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 no casual thing, but the wretched law of his life ? 
 He felt his head swim round. He became conscious 
 of intense weariness. " Let me sleep a little and 
 wake up sane. I have no longer any judgment," he 
 muttered, under his breath, and threw himself at 
 full length on the sofa, crossing his arms above his 
 head. He closed his eyes, but the moment he was 
 in an attitude of rest, he was wide awake. " My 
 life is ruined," he said to himself. " I have 
 nothing to live for, everything is at an end." 
 But the thought of Larry smote him. " I must go 
 on for Larry s sake. I will take him and go to 
 Europe." Yet on the moment, it occurred to him 
 that the arguments Bella had brought forward had 
 some force. If Larry were never to hear that his 
 mother had been a disgrace to him, if he coidd 
 grow up, feeling that there was no shameful secret 
 to conceal, that his mother was in the same house, 
 that she was good to him, that he had a duty to 
 her, it might be better for the boy. No fiction 
 of himself being free could be sustained with this 
 accursed fate hanging over him. Should he say to 
 her : " Stay here if you like and on any terms you 
 like, only do not expect ever that I shall do other 
 wise than suffer you for Larry s sake ? " 
 
 So ran his thoughts in shame, in disdain, in rage, 
 feeling as if, in this world, where there is the same 
 punishment for our ignorant mistakes as for our 
 sins, to dogmatize on any subject is a waste of 
 breath ; it becomes at last the only wisdom simply 
 
A TEST. 373 
 
 to acquiesce in what seems likely to spare any one 
 pain. What he hated most might be so inter- 
 volvcd with benefits for another that his own 
 misery could be no reason for rejecting anything 
 that fate could impose. His ideas wandered; he 
 felt himself sinking into slumber. Suddenly, just 
 as he was becoming unconscious, he was startled 
 by a sound. It seemed far off, but, nevertheless, 
 it made him spring up with a sensation like that 
 of a sentinel who is in danger of being accused of 
 deserting his post. 
 
 " What is it ? " he asked. " Who is there ? " 
 
 " Let me in," said a soft voice with an appealing 
 accent. 
 
 He stood gazing at the door a moment without 
 moving or speaking. He could see that the knob 
 was turned from without, he could hear the 
 sound of something pressing against it. 
 
 His feeling was that this was what he had ex 
 pected. He experienced no astonishment, but he 
 felt that it was the evil spirit of his life that 
 approached him and that he had to contend with, 
 a hateful thing, at once a part of himself and no 
 part of himself ; seductive to sense, yet hostile ; 
 something to conquer, to fling off ; something not 
 to be tampered with. 
 
 He opened the door. 
 
 Bella stood there. He moved aside and she entered 
 the room. There was a look about her of woman 
 ish, almost childish, weakness and appealingness. 
 
374 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE G.1RTHE. 
 
 " The wind howls so," she said timidly, as if 
 ill-assured of her welcome, " I could not sleep." 
 
 She had removed her dress and had wrapped 
 herself in some kind of rich Oriental rug or 
 blanket, which Garthe recognized as belonging to 
 a couch in his room. 
 
 She looked up at him. " I heard you moving 
 about," she observed. " I felt that you too were 
 restless, perhaps unhappy." 
 
 " I was, on the contrary, fast asleep when you 
 tried the door," said Garthe. " I should advise 
 you to go back to your room." 
 
 " You were asleep ! " she said reproachfully. 
 " And I I could not sleep. The room seemed to 
 be haunted." 
 
 "Very likely." 
 
 " I asked myself, did you and I belong to the 
 living, breathing world, yet were so estranged ? " 
 
 He gave her a strange look. 
 
 "I cannot believe in this attitude of cold dis 
 tance," she said softly. 
 
 She came nearer. 
 
 " I can t bear this intolerable sense of isolation," 
 she said. " I know it comes from my own wicked 
 ness and folly, but I can t bear it. I want some 
 how to be forgiven. I must be forgiven, I will 
 be forgiven. Something in me cries out for your 
 forgiveness, a yearning which puts me beside 
 myself." 
 
 But the mind she was addressing had regained 
 
A TEST. 375 
 
 its equilibrium. At the present moment he saw 
 before and after. 
 
 " I advise you to go back instantly to your 
 room," he said. " Am I so weak a thing as you 
 take me to be ?" 
 
 " Are you measuring your strength against 
 mine, a weak woman ? " 
 
 "I am measuring my patience, which has its 
 limits." 
 
 " Do not say so." She came towards him, 
 fixing her beautiful, dreamy eyes on his. She 
 counted with assurance on his yielding, but he 
 met her glance with a sort of fury. 
 
 " You can stay here," he said. " I have some 
 times said to myself that the earth itself is not 
 wide enough for you and me. Certainly this house 
 is too narrow." 
 
 He walked straight out of the room and, not 
 even taking hat or coat, straight out of the house. 
 She heard the outer door clang after him. She 
 followed into the empty hall, opened the door, 
 and gazed out incredulously. It no longer snowed, 
 and she could see his footprints on the drift over 
 the threshold. 
 
 She shivered, closed the door, turned back, and 
 sat down before the fire. " He hates me, that is 
 clear," she said to herself ; " but I have spoiled his 
 peace of mind for a day or two, that is also evident." 
 
 She leaned forward and held out her hands to 
 the coals. 
 
376 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " He will take a bad cold," she murmured, aud 
 laughed softly. Yet she did not feel altogether 
 triumphant. The most contradictory feelings 
 crowded upon her. Now that the experiment had 
 in some measure failed, she was ready to reproach 
 herself for having been abrupt, alarming, warning 
 the touch before she won the sense. But he was 
 beyond her ; he had always been beyond her. She 
 reflected with bitterness that he was faitliful to 
 that other woman, and a vague idea came into her 
 mind which set her pondering things anew. 
 She still sat over the fire, thinking it not wholly 
 impossible that Garthe would return. Presently 
 she found that she had dozed. It was half past 
 one o clock. The events of the evening suddenly 
 shone before her in a clearer light, and she 
 laughed, partly at herself and partly with a 
 triumphant consciousness that Garthe had been 
 beaten on his own ground. She reviewed certain 
 scenes between them with some complacency ; then 
 when the clock struck two she said to herself : 
 
 " I may as well go to bed. Evidently he was 
 quite in earnest. He will not come back until 
 morning." 
 
 And she went slowly upstairs. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MR. MARCHMONT FINDS HIS WAY MADE CLEAR. 
 
 " KATHLEEN, when I was a youngster I had my 
 way to make ; I had my art to put all my cravings 
 into ; I had my mother and sister to support, and 
 was content with the declaration that the hour of 
 my marriage had not struck, that I was in no 
 haste. But when Bernard Garner brought you 
 home I saw why it was that I had not, hitherto, 
 thought of a wife. Something in the trick you 
 had of blushing, something in the way your eye 
 lids fell, in the way you used your little hands, 
 made me say to myself, That is the woman with 
 whom, were she not my friend Bernard s wife, I 
 might have fallen in love. However, you were 
 Bernard s wife, and I rejoiced in his happiness, 
 and in seeing you grow, expand, develop into a 
 woman. But since he died I have wondered if the 
 feeling I have had for you so long were simply the 
 test of my friendship and of my loyalty. I have 
 wondered if loving you with downright knowledge 
 that no other woman has ever touched my heart, 
 that no other woman ever could touch my heart, 
 gave me the right now four years and more after 
 your husband s death to ask you to be my wife." 
 
378 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 This was the speech which, in his sleepless night 
 after that unlucky Sunday evening, John March- 
 mont had learned by heart. He had seen how, in 
 spite of his clear purpose, he had permitted all 
 sorts of trivial obstacles to intervene between him 
 and Kathy, while Garthe, although equally ham 
 pered, had, with the easy efficacy of youth, 
 snatched his longed-for moment with Constance. 
 But then Constance had apprehended, while Kathy, 
 blind, deaf, tied to foolish decorums, had not appre 
 hended. Doubtless, John Marchmont confessed 
 within himself, it was his own fault ; he was old, 
 wavering, infirm of purpose. It was, at least, 
 something to get this formula by heart. It gave 
 him a feeling of being ready for the next occasion. 
 Yet he went to the house the next afternoon and 
 sat dull, inert, speechless, while Kathy entertained 
 a circle of visitors. Tuesday morning, however, he 
 decided that he would speak out that day or else 
 forever hold his peace. He dropped in at the 
 Garners soon after breakfast and found Constance 
 and Kathleen in the morning-room upstairs. The 
 former was going out, but Kathleen was sitting in 
 a low wicker chair with blue cushions, before a 
 table, arranging bunches of violets in a bowl. 
 
 "Sit down and spend the morning with me," 
 she said on the instant. " Constance has an 
 engagement. I was wishing you would come." 
 
 Nothing could have seemed more facile, ready- 
 made, than this opportunity. But then a true 
 
MR. MAECHMONT FINDS HIS WAY CLEAR. 379 
 
 lover recoils before the facile, the ready-made, as 
 a chef before a prepared sauce, and courts diffi 
 culty, a test of his zeal and high courage. Perhaps 
 for this reason Mr. Marchmont s spirits instantly 
 deserted him, and he sat down speechless. 
 
 " I am afraid you are not well," Kathleen said 
 presently, perceiving the weight of some insistent 
 thought between them. " You are restless ; you 
 seem to have something on your mind." 
 
 " Something on my mind ? " repeated John 
 Marchmont blankly. The fragrance of the vio 
 lets seemed to go to his head, or perhaps it was the 
 sight of Kathleen in her plain black stuff gown 
 with a white muslin fichu over her shoulders, into 
 the knot of which, where the ends crossed in front, 
 she had put two or three of the flowers. 
 
 " Something on my mind ? " he said again. 
 " I m always thinking of one thing now-a-days. 
 If I could drop it and take up some new idea I 
 might have a chance of some peace and comfort, 
 but not with this thing on my conscience." 
 
 " Dear me ! You have n t committed a crime, I 
 hope?" 
 
 " No, I have not committed a crime." 
 
 " I in sure you are not in debt." 
 
 " Mrs. Challoner seems to consider that I am." 
 
 "Mrs. Challoner says you are in debt?" 
 
 " Yes ; that is, she says I do not fulfill my duty." 
 
 " Your duty ? What sort of duty ? " 
 
 " What she calls a man s first duty." 
 
380 THE STOKY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 "To love God and keep his commandments ?" 
 
 u Perhaps, then, it is the second duty of man 
 I fail in." 
 
 " I do not seem to remember what a man s 
 second duty is," said Kathy, puzzled. 
 
 "She declares that I ought to marry," mur 
 mured John Marchmont, his face crimson. 
 
 "Marry? You marry?" repeated Kathy. in 
 consternation. 
 
 " Yes, I marry. Does the idea strike you as 
 ridiculous ? " 
 
 " Does she say that you ought to marry anybody 
 in particular ? " 
 
 " And pray, my dear Mrs. Garner, how could I 
 marry anybody in general? She wants me to 
 marry somebody very particular, so particular that 
 I am afraid." 
 
 " Afraid? afraid she won t have you ?" 
 
 " Exactly. Afraid she will consider me a pre 
 sumptuous old fool." 
 
 " She ought to jump at you. I am certain she 
 will jump at you. I suppose you mean Miss Shep- 
 ard," murmured Kathy dolorously. 
 
 " Miss Shepard ? What Miss Shepard ? " 
 
 " Miss Shepard, the emancipator of women." 
 
 " You don t suppose I wish to marry an emanci 
 pator of women ? " 
 
 " You spoke of its being somebody so superior, 
 and I recollect that you told me Miss Shepard 
 seemed to you deadly superior." 
 
MB. MARCHMONT FINDS HIS WAY CLEAR. 381 
 
 " I perceive that you consider Miss Shepard of 
 suitable age and attractions for an old fellow like 
 me." 
 
 " Is it anybody younger, then ? " demanded 
 Kathleen, with new energy, a spot of vivid color 
 by this time burning on each cheek. 
 
 " Younger, I should hope ; more attractive, I 
 should insist." 
 
 " How young ? " 
 
 " Very young," with a sigh ; " far too young for 
 a grizzled old ogre." 
 
 " I don t feel sure what you mean by young," 
 said Kathleen, evidently disturbed in mind. " Am 
 I young, for instance ? " 
 
 " Passably young." 
 
 " Is she younger than I am ? " 
 
 "Let me see, Kathleen, how old are you?" 
 
 "Twenty-eight and six months." 
 
 " She is certainly no older than you are." 
 
 " Is she pretty ? " 
 
 " The prettiest woman I know." 
 
 " I see, it is Blanche Challoner," said Kathy, 
 growing pale, her lips quivering slightly. " Well, 
 I wish you joy." 
 
 "Wish me joy?" 
 
 " But I do feel that you ought to have told me 
 before," she said piteously. 
 
 " Told you what ? " 
 
 " That you were going to be married." 
 
 " I have not said I was going to be married. I 
 
382 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 only remarked that Mrs. Challoner insisted upon 
 it." 
 
 " Then you, yourself, in your own heart, don t 
 really care about it," cried Kathleen, more hope 
 fully. 
 
 " Indeed, I want it with all my heart and soul," 
 said John Marchmont. " I am like the baby after 
 Pears soap ; I shan t be happy until I get it. Don t 
 you approve of it ? " 
 
 " It s so strange, it s so upsetting " 
 
 " That I should try to be happy like other 
 people?" 
 
 " But then we were n t put into the world sim 
 ply to be happy," said Kathleen, with solemnity. 
 44 There s something better than happiness." 
 
 " I 11 be hanged if I know what it is." 
 
 44 And then," pursued Kathy ardently, " people 
 are not necessarily happy because they are mar 
 ried. I think the feeling that marriage is a failure 
 is becoming more and more general." 
 
 44 1 m willing to take the risks if she will." 
 
 44 Don t say so ! I cannot bear to hear you say 
 so. Don t tell her so," cried Kathy. 
 
 44 Tell whom ? " 
 
 44 Blanche. She is not the wife for you. She is 
 beautiful, she dresses well, but I don t want you to 
 marry her. There ! " 
 
 44 1 tell you what, Kathleen, the fellow who wins 
 Blanche Challoner ought to be a very proud and 
 happy man." 
 
MR. MAECHMONT FINDS HIS WAY CLEAE. 383 
 
 " Perhaps he ought," she murmured. There t 
 were clear signs of a conflict of feeling going on 
 within her. She was alternately flushed and pale, 
 her lips set constantly in a grieved curve ; 
 something like a sob came now and then. "I 
 admit," she said reluctantly, " Blanche is splendid 
 for dinner parties, she sets off the table, and she 
 does look magnificent on a coach." 
 
 " Well, what else should I want of a wife," de 
 manded John Marchmont, " except to gild my de 
 clining years with dinner and coaching parties ? " 
 
 " I should not have supposed you cared for such 
 foolish, worldly things at all." 
 
 u What do I care about, then, Kathleen ?" 
 
 Their eyes met, and a direct answer to his ques 
 tion seemed to leap from hers, but she swerved 
 away with a slight air of embarrassment. He had 
 started up as they talked, and had been walking 
 about the room, but now sat down beside her, and 
 she leaned forward and put a finger on his sleeve. 
 
 " I ve thought of you there at Bowhill all alone," 
 she said coaxingly. " I often say to myself or to 
 Constance on rainy days or at twilight that Mr. 
 Marchmont must be lonely." 
 
 " Set your mind at rest about that. I am 
 lonely." 
 
 She went on. " And I have wished I were there 
 to amuse you. For I don t care whom you may 
 be in love with, or whom you may marry, I can 
 amuse you better than anybody else. There ! " 
 
384 THE STORY OF LAWEENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Having launched this thunderbolt, she paused and 
 waited to see the effect of her words. " I know just 
 how to amuse you," she then proceeded with clear 
 defiance. "I could amuse you a thousand times 
 better than Blanche. I know I have n t been asked 
 to amuse you, but I could." 
 
 Nothing could well have surprised John March- 
 mont more than the role imposed upon him. Kath 
 leen went on with the air of a coaxing child. 
 
 "I always thought you liked me better than 
 Blanche Challoner," she murmured with clear 
 grievance. 
 
 u I do like you," said John Marchmont. 
 
 " Say you like me better than Blanche Chal 
 loner," she murmured imploringly. 
 
 " I like you better than forty thousand Blanche 
 Challoners." 
 
 " Oh, oh, oh, yet you want to marry her ! It s 
 immoral." 
 
 " No use trying to get you to marry me," said 
 John Marchmont. " You don t care a button about 
 me." 
 
 " I do, I do care." 
 
 "Not a bit. You may like to flatter me, and 
 make a fool of me, but if I were to give you my 
 heart in a bonbon box, tied -up with ribbon, you 
 would eat it, probably making a grimace over the 
 musty flavor. That would be the end of it." 
 
 " It would n t, it could n t." 
 
 " You would n t give me your heart back." 
 
ME. MARCHMONT FINDS HIS WAY CLEAR. 885 
 
 " Yes, I would." 
 
 " How many times have you told me you had lost 
 that heart of yours ? That you had given it away 
 to women, children, actors, actresses, singers, orches 
 tra leaders, horses, dogs, cats. Just remember Mrs. 
 Challoner s brother." 
 
 "It was nothing, just a phrase, just some 
 thing to take up with for the moment, just some 
 thing to hide the fact from myself that I was lonely, 
 had nothing, had lost everything." 
 
 " How about Ferdinand Hartley ? Examine your 
 conscience." 
 
 " It was just a fad like china-painting." 
 
 "Am I different?" 
 
 "Oh, so different." 
 
 "You put strange ideas into my head. Now if 
 you could be serious one minute, Kathleen " 
 
 " I am serious. I am dreadfully serious." 
 
 " Do you mean that actually you are lonely?" 
 
 "Ye-es." 
 
 " That that you would be willing to come out 
 to Bowhill and live with me ? " said John March- 
 mont, conscious of a quickening of his blood, a 
 momentary blurring of his vision, as he leaned 
 forward and put a hand on each of her shoulders. 
 
 " Do you want me to come ? " 
 
 " A little." 
 
 " What will you give me if I come ? " 
 
 " I will give you a pair of " 
 
 " Oh, I wanted you to give me " 
 
386 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GAIiTHE. 
 
 "Well, what?" 
 
 " Your heart." 
 
 Five minutes later John Marchmont was filled 
 with the exhilaration of a schoolboy, and Kathy 
 looked frightened and, it must be confessed, half 
 unhappy. 
 
 44 You won t tell Constance," she said pleadingly. 
 
 " Not tell Constance we are going to be mar 
 ried?" 
 
 " Oh, I don t mind that. People will have to 
 know that, and I shall be rather proud. Don t tell 
 her that " 
 
 " That what ? " 
 
 " That I almost asked you " 
 
 " That you quite asked me, that you insisted 
 upon it and had to reconcile me to the idea. No, 
 perhaps we may as well keep that to ourselves, and 
 in time I may forgive you." 
 
 44 But, John, you are sure you would rather 
 marry me than Blanche Challoner ? " 
 
 44 Oh, yes. Sure." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 
 
 MRS. HERNANDEZ reentered her rooms at the 
 Percy towards noon on the day following her 
 interview with Lawrence Garthe. Miss Shepard 
 had gone, the day before, to Philadelphia, on some 
 mission, and had not yet returned. The place 
 looked cold and lifeless. Bella had a strange 
 sense of the emptiness and dreariness of things in 
 general. There seemed no longer to be anything 
 to look forward to. She felt as if brought up 
 suddenly against a blank wall. She had awak 
 ened at ten o clock, startled to find herself in a 
 strange room, and feeling a reaction from her 
 reckless exhilaration of the preceding day. She 
 had rung the bell, had inquired if Mr. Garthe 
 were in the house, and had been told by Amelia 
 that he had come back about seven o clock, had 
 roused Larry, had had him dressed and his clothes 
 packed, and had taken him away in a carriage. 
 
 With her spirits already in a state of unstable 
 equilibrium, this news had depressed Bella. It 
 seemed a dull world, an irremediably spoiled world 
 for her. Since she had found out that Lawrence 
 Garthe was within reach she had floated upon 
 
C88 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 a rising flood of conjecture, curiosity, almost, it 
 might be said, hope, towards some possible event 
 which loomed full at once of promise and of threat. 
 Now, no longer upborne by any clear resolution, 
 she found herself stranded at dead low tide, the 
 shallows laying bare everything she had believed 
 in yesterday. She was at first in such absolute 
 disgust with herself she hated the thought of what 
 she had done, compelled to identify her action as 
 a failure and a mistake. However, as she dressed, 
 ate her breakfast, and talked with Button and 
 Amelia, eliciting little in return save an added 
 sense of rebuff, she shook off the helpless sense 
 of being baffled and thwarted. In her capriciously 
 poised mood she could not have told whether she 
 was in earnest when, after calling for a carriage, 
 she took leave, with the message for Garthe that 
 she would soon return ; whether she realized that 
 her play was made, whether she surrendered the 
 game, or looked forward to another cast of the die. 
 She sat down over the fire in her room at the 
 Percy with her hands hanging loosely in her lap, 
 her eyes dull, and her lips sullen. She experi 
 enced no sense of humiliation in the thought that 
 she had intruded upon Garthe ; she felt herself in 
 no way culpable, yet was conscious of a soreness 
 of conscience over her failure, and constantly went 
 over the scene in her own mind from a personal 
 point of view, criticising her own actions. She 
 recalled the exultation, the half terror she had ex- 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 389 
 
 perienced in seeing first his figure, in silhouette, 
 against the hall light, then, in the fuller illumi 
 nation, his face with its clear, proud look, the in 
 domitable glance which seemed to smite as it fell 
 upon her. 
 
 His tone had been cold and stern, yet there had 
 been something in his startled, half curious survey 
 of her face, her toilette, which put her at her ease ; 
 which showed her that he yielded some tribute to 
 her beauty, her elegance ; that he realized she had 
 risen, not fallen, in the scale ; also that, although 
 he had forgiven nothing, perhaps could never for 
 give, he still did not hate her ; that it was not in 
 his nature to hate her. Once indeed he had loved 
 her, loved her as nobody else had ever loved 
 her; as she said this to herself she burst into a 
 fit of rage against herself, or him, or the world, 
 turned and struck the cushions of the chair where 
 she sat, started up, paced the room with her hands 
 pressing her temples, threw herself on the bed, 
 buried her face in the pillows, and bit them again 
 and again as if in a blind fury. 
 
 Yet presently the paroxysm passed, and she sat 
 up, her face flushed, her hair thrown carelessly 
 back. 
 
 " But I am glad he was cold as ice," she said 
 with a shiver. Had she been in earnest in trying 
 to rekindle a spark of the old passion, in testing 
 the efficacy of that air of cool reserve which she 
 believed to be a mere pretense ? 
 
390 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " I do not understand myself," she murmured. 
 " Put me in a new place and I am a mystery ; I 
 am afraid of myself in the dark." Again she 
 said audibly : " I am glad that he was cold as ice." 
 
 It is hard to tell when one is in earnest and 
 when one is not in earnest ; but to see him, to see 
 Larry, to see the house, to perceive clearly that 
 in spite of what she had cost him lie had found 
 dignity, peace, happiness ; to recognize in the least 
 of his surroundings his old dominant traits, neat 
 ness, order, method, his requirement of everything 
 and everybody about him that they should subor 
 dinate themselves to a rational standard and to a 
 cohesive law, to his ideas, which, were to him the 
 right ideas, had brought, along with the old imp- 
 like feeling of rebellion and antagonism, the old at 
 traction ; and the sentimental, passionate current in 
 her veins had ruined everything. Instead of being 
 wholly mistress of the occasion, instead of main 
 taining an attitude impressionable, seducing, mob 
 ile, but yet firm, she had been precipitate, had 
 strained every nerve, made an intense effort some 
 how to reach him ; if she could reach him, she had 
 said to herself, she could move him. But he had 
 escaped her ; at the turning-point she had missed. 
 But after all, here she was, rich, independent, 
 unhampered. 
 
 "Would I go back?" she asked herself; "would 
 I have had my life different? Suppose six yean 
 ago I had stayed with Lawrence instead of going 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 391 
 
 off as I did. Virtue is its own reward, they say. 
 Would virtue have been a reward to me ? We 
 had different ideas, we had different ways, our 
 natures were different. Still, suppose I had fore 
 seen that he would eventually be rather a success 
 ful man, suppose I had not taken the fancy 
 that Algernon would supply all the variety and 
 excitement I had missed, suppose I had realized 
 what a horrible experience he would give me, how 
 I should learn to loathe him ! Yes, suppose I had 
 gone on being Mrs. Lawrence Garthe, and were 
 living here now with him and with Larry, dressing 
 for dinner, sitting with the boy and waiting for 
 his father to come in, running towards him, open 
 ing my arms, receiving his kisses, his loving flat 
 teries, being told the news, should I be happy? * 
 
 Again she sprang up, and as if chafed by the 
 solitude and the silence, struck everything that 
 came in her way, crashed a bottle on the dress 
 ing table, tore open the curtains, pushed up the 
 shades. 
 
 A knock came at the door, and a servant asked 
 if she would have luncheon. 
 
 "Yes, and I will have a pint bottle of cham 
 pagne," she added hastily. 
 
 Champagne invariably put her in good spirits, 
 and presently she experienced an agreeable exhila 
 ration which brought with it a different mood, of 
 self-satisfaction, of belief in her ability to make 
 her life just what she wished it to be. She en- 
 
392 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 joyed the stimulus of the champagne, the cro 
 quettes and pate s, not only for themselves, but as 
 a sign of the comfort her wealth could yield. It 
 justified all the zigzags of her career that she 
 could now, as a climax, to-day ring the bell and on 
 the instant command all the resources of a great 
 establishment. How absurd for her to feel com 
 punctions, scruples, almost a romantic aspiration 
 towards something different! What more could 
 she ask than she possessed ? And to repent anything 
 she had done would be to give up these tangible 
 advantages. A woman, if she wishes to remain 
 young and beautiful, should never vex herself nor 
 permit herself to be vexed. If somebody has to 
 suffer, let it be somebody else. She had given 
 Lawrence Garthe some galling moments ; now let 
 her try to strike him once more through that 
 woman. 
 
 " I had almost forgotten about his being in love 
 with her. I only thought whether he was still in 
 love with me." 
 
 She revolved a dozen plans in her head. Should 
 she write an anonymous letter, put a paragraph in 
 the papers? She was in doubt about the precise 
 form her vengeance should take until, rising from 
 table, she glanced into the mirror and found her 
 self in such admirable good looks she determined 
 to deal her own blow and watch it strike home. 
 She herself would go and see the rival who had 
 supplanted her in Garthe s affections. 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEYS AMBITION. 393 
 
 She freshened her toilette by a few effective 
 touches, and stepped into her coupe at half past 
 two o clock with the feeling of going, seeing, and 
 conquering. The day was mild. The snow, fallen 
 in the night, was still dripping from the roofs ; the 
 streets, only half cleared, were deep in mud and 
 slush, but overhead was a sky of spring, exquisitely 
 blue with dots of fleecy clouds and a sun which 
 warmed and inspired. Everywhere were exposed 
 pots of plants in full blossom, and at each corner 
 came a whiff from the bunches of violets offered 
 by the flower-venders. In spite of the almost im 
 passable streets, Broadway and Fifth Avenue were 
 filled with carriages, and a constant stream of 
 women poured in and out of the principal shops. 
 
 " Not one of them has half as much money to 
 spend as I have," Bella thought within herself, 
 at the same time that she was uneasily conscious 
 that the tall houses, the great bazaars, the mov 
 ing throngs of people, the general air of gayety 
 and good-humor, represented a life to which she 
 did not belong, from which a gulf seemed to 
 separate her. She was the only woman, it seemed, 
 whose friends were not looking for her ; the only 
 one who was not met with deference, with eager 
 attentions, who did not wear a complacent air of 
 being approved, flattered, caressed by hosts of 
 admiring acquaintances. 
 
 " Drive on faster, take a side street," she 
 said to the man on the box. Her voice rang out 
 
394 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 sharply, her complexion had heightened in color, 
 she experienced the vague rage which at times 
 possessed her against a world which seemed to bar 
 her out in spite of her golden key which ought to 
 unlock everything. 
 
 Five minutes later she left her carriage and was 
 ascending the steps of the house on Lexington 
 Avenue, when the door opened, disclosing John 
 Marchmont taking leave of Mrs. Garner. It could 
 be of no use for the latter to retreat, to pretend not 
 to see the advancing visitor, for in another instant 
 Bella, pressing her advantage, was over the thresh 
 old. 
 
 " I am so glad to find you at home, Mrs. Gar 
 ner," she said in her abrupt, imperious way. " I 
 wish particularly to see you." 
 
 " Oh," said Kathleen, helpless in the emergency, 
 and feeling herself caught in a trap, "I was just 
 I really must 
 
 44 Do you remember me?" demanded Bella, who 
 easily enough discerned in the other s manner 
 shrinking timidity, mixed with some curiosity. 
 
 "Oh, yes. It is Miss Shepard s friend. It is 
 Mrs. Hernandez," said Kathleen, beginning to 
 re-gather her forces. " Pray come in." 
 
 " Are you alone ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Kathleen, looking regretfully after 
 John Marchmont, who was lifting his hat in a last 
 adieu from the pavement. He was to be back 
 again in an hour, but already she experienced a 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 395 
 
 fresh need of him, of the perfect confidence and 
 mutual understanding which gave her such a 
 happy freedom. Then besides, she realized that 
 she was flushed, disheveled, and she longed to run 
 away ; she wished she had not come to the door in 
 that foolish, childish fashion, or that, having com 
 mitted herself, she had insisted that John should 
 turn back. She desired ardently that Constance 
 should come, yet in spite of all those contradictions 
 of feeling, with an air of prodigious politeness, she 
 ushered her visitor into the drawing-room, main 
 taining a charm of manner, a felicity of phrase, 
 which left Bella tongue-tied, ill at ease, oppressed 
 by a consciousness of her rival s prettiness and 
 elegance, and devoured by envy. But it was this 
 graceful peace of mind she had come to spoil. 
 
 "How is Miss Shepard?" said Kathleen, as 
 they sat down face to face. " How clever she is ! 
 How much she made us feel the other day ! I was 
 so much impressed ! " 
 
 " Oh yes," returned Bella. " She is very im 
 pressive at times." 
 
 " What a privilege-to live near such a woman," 
 pursued Kathleen, harping on the only subject 
 which presented itself to her mind, since the other 
 had suggested no reason for the visit. " You and 
 she are great friends, I suppose." 
 
 " She is my companion," said Bella loftily. " I 
 pay her a high salary to live with me." 
 
 "Ye-es? I should suppose she would need to 
 
396 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 have a small fortune paid her for such a service," 
 observed Kathleen with an air of enthusiasm ; then, 
 becoming conscious of the possibly dubious mean 
 ing of her words, she blushed scarlet and added 
 with an air of deprecation, u You must be very 
 grateful to her." 
 
 " She sometimes seems very grateful to me," 
 returned Bella with a shrill little laugh. "I must 
 have some one. I am lonely." 
 
 " Oh yes, one does get lonely," said Kathleen. 
 " I have a daughter." 
 
 " A daughter ? Do you mean your stepdaugh 
 ter? I should suppose she was as old as you." 
 
 " Not quite." Kathleen began by this time to 
 make up her mind that she had carried out her 
 own role to its limit. She had admitted her 
 visitor, seated her, exhausted the only topic they 
 had in common, and now, putting on her finest air, 
 she sat back in her chair and awaited events. 
 
 There ensued a pause. 
 
 "I am afraid, Mrs. Garner," Bella remarked 
 presently, " that you consider it very odd for me 
 to introduce myself like this when you have never 
 been to see me." 
 
 "Odd? Oh dear, no, not in the least," replied 
 Kathleen suavely. 
 
 " I felt, you see, Mrs. Garner, that I had a 
 right to come." 
 
 " Oh, of course," Kathleen murmured witli an 
 air of mild surprise. 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 397 
 
 " I might say I felt it was my duty to come." 
 
 " Your duty ? I am sure it is extremely good 
 of you to say so." 
 
 " I hear," Bella continued with a tone and look 
 which suggested a challenge to personal encounter, 
 " that you are thinking of marrying again." 
 
 "Who told you?" ejaculated Kathleen, stupe 
 fied. She had been engaged to Mr. Marchmont 
 not quite three hours ; he had not left her until he 
 encountered this woman on the steps ; not even to 
 Constance had the news been confided. 
 
 " I heard," said Mrs. Hernandez. " It may be 
 that I am better acquainted with the man you are 
 in love with than you are." 
 
 " Oh, oh, oh," said Kathleen, wide-eyed with sur 
 prise. " That does not seem possible." 
 
 "It is possible. It is true. I wish you to 
 answer me one question, Mrs. Garner. I have a 
 right to ask it. Has he ever told you about his 
 first marriage ? " 
 
 " His first marriage ? " Kathleen repeated, in 
 credulous. It seemed to her that the world was 
 turning round. 
 
 " Surely you must know that he has been 
 married ! He has a little boy seven years old." 
 
 " Oh, oh, oh," said Kathleen again, her brain 
 reeling before these far-reaching suggestions. The 
 woman s manner carried instant conviction, yet 
 it did seem to her so very improbable that John 
 Marchmont could have concealed such a passage 
 
398 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 in his career. " A little boy seven years old ! " she 
 faltered, helpless. " I should have said I knew the 
 least fact in his history." 
 
 " Lawrence Garthe was married at Whitehouae, 
 Colorado, nine years ago last August," said Mrs. 
 Hernandez, as if flinging down the gauntlet. u Do 
 you pretend to tell me that you had no idea of it ? " 
 
 Kathleen s brain had cleared in a flash. Her 
 spirits, too, rebounded. She was ready to meet 
 the crisis. 
 
 " I did not know the exact date," she said, with 
 an air of interest. " Pray tell me anything you 
 have to say about it. We have plenty of time. 
 You said you came to tell me something. Don t 
 let us be incoherent. It is so much better to say 
 everything clearly, and then one understands. Yes, 
 I knew that Mr. Garthe had been married, that 
 he had a dear little boy." 
 
 " I wonder," cried Mrs. Hernandez impatiently, 
 " what else he has told you." 
 
 " He has told me all sorts of interesting things. 
 He is one of the most entertaining men I know." 
 
 " Ah, entertaining ! Has he talked to you 
 about his wife ? Has he confided the fact to you 
 that his wife is still alive ? " 
 
 " His wife alive ? " repeated Kathleen in clear 
 dismay. " Are n t you mistaken ? How can she 
 be alive ? " 
 
 " Why not ? A woman does not die simply 
 because " 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 399 
 
 " But it is surely so uncomfortable," Kathleen 
 murmured, her mind reverting to certain dan 
 gers now well passed, but which yet made this 
 news confounding in the extreme. 
 
 " Of course they were divorced," explained Mrs. 
 Hernandez. 
 
 An exclamation escaped Kathleen. She wrung 
 her hands. 
 
 " What did you say ? " asked the visitor. 
 
 " It just flashed across my mind that I have 
 talked about divorces to Mr. Garthe," said Kath 
 leen piteously. "What must he have thought of 
 me?" 
 
 Bella, all the time conscious of being foiled, of 
 not actually reaching her victim, made a quick 
 thrust. 
 
 " His wife obtained a divorce from him because 
 he had run away from her." 
 
 " What a dreadful woman she must have been," 
 said Kathleen. 
 
 " How dare you say such a thing?" cried Bella 
 defiantly. 
 
 "But I know Mr. Garthe," said Kathleen, 
 equally roused, " and I know that he never would 
 have run away unless she had been a dreadful 
 woman ! From the first moment I saw him I felt 
 as if he had had some painful experience, but I 
 did not suspect that it had been a bad wife." 
 
 " How dare you insult me ? " said Bella, flushing 
 with rage. 
 
400 TIIE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTIIE. 
 
 " Was she your sister ? " asked Kathleen ; then 
 with swift divination, " Was it yourself ? " 
 
 " It was I." 
 
 The two women looked at each other. 
 
 " I thought you were Mrs. Hernandez, a 
 widow," said Kathleen, puzzled. 
 
 " I am the widow of Aurelio Hernandez." 
 
 " Then how can you tell me you were ever Mrs. 
 Lawrence Garthe ? " 
 
 " I have already said I obtained a divorce from 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, I wish," murmured Kathleen with fresh 
 remorse, "that I had never brought up that 
 uncomfortable subject before him." The image 
 of Garthe s grave, clearly-outlined face, his whole 
 look and manner that of a man tried and seasoned, 
 came up to her mind in contrast with this hand 
 some, richly-dressed, successful woman. 
 
 " I know Mr. Garthe very well," she said with 
 enthusiasm. " I admire him very much." 
 
 " You don t know my side," retorted Bella. 
 
 " No, I do not know your side," observed Kath 
 leen gently. " Appearances are very much against 
 you, still I have lived a long time, and know 
 that appearances are often deceitful." 
 
 " I do not see that appearances are against me." 
 
 " It would be so dreadful, to make one s hus 
 band run away from one." 
 
 " The fault was his. He was a tyrannical hus 
 band, and I rebelled." 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 401 
 
 " Tyrannical ? " said Kathleen. She remem 
 bered that Garthe had sometimes impressed her as 
 a little masterful. " I rather like to be tyrannized 
 over, myself," she added, " but it makes marriage 
 a trifle hazardous." 
 
 " I assure you, Lawrence Garthe is tyrannical." 
 
 " I know how despotic men can be. I heard of a 
 man once who would only allow his wife to send 
 one pair of stockings a week to the laundry." 
 
 " That is nothing," said Bella impatiently. 
 
 " But it implies a great deal," insisted Kathleen, 
 apparently putting all her heart into the subject. 
 "A man who tyrannizes about stockings would not 
 stop there. He might do anything. And I am 
 not so tame as I seem. If a man were to deny 
 me plenty of fresh stockings I am sure it would 
 bring out all the naughtiness in me. I am sure 
 I sympathize with you very much. Still I should 
 wish to hear Mr. Garthe s side of the story." 
 
 " We had different ideas, we had " 
 
 " And you were not contented," said Kathleen, 
 who had heard some one come in, and, fancying 
 that John Marchmont might have returned, began 
 to be in urgent haste ; and accordingly, bent on 
 dismissing her visitor, was prepared to understand 
 her before she spoke and to give her ideas clear 
 expression before she uttered them. " You wanted 
 your own way, good or bad, and you gained your 
 own way, good or bad. It is very easy to see that 
 Mr. Garthe did not get his." 
 
402 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " I am not a woman to be hampered by every 
 day laws, said Bella, conscious all the time of 
 missing her point, of finding her definite idea 
 blurred and marred. " I felt that I could not 
 have my life spoiled." 
 
 " I congratidate you on having succeeded," said 
 Kathleen. 
 
 " Succeeded in what ? " 
 
 "In spoiling other people s lives and carrying 
 out your own ideas." 
 
 " If I have not carried out my own ideas " 
 
 " I know how it is," interrupted Kathy ; " a 
 woman feels she must do something, so she com 
 mits stupidities and perhaps regrets it ; but I dare 
 say that it seems worth while to have one s fling ; 
 only " - 
 
 "Only what?" said Bella, carried away in spite 
 of herself, and almost forgetting what she had come 
 to say. 
 
 " I do not quite understand about that 
 Mr. Hernandez," said Kathleen, as if tired of try 
 ing to seek a solution to the enigma. 
 
 " I married again," said Bella proudly. " I had 
 a right." 
 
 " Then I suppose Mr. Garthe has a right to 
 marry again," said Kathleen, as if at last arriving 
 at some clear conclusion. 
 
 She sat still, looking at her visitor, who seemed 
 to be gathering her forces as if to carry out some 
 great resolution. The pupils of her eyes were con- 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 403 
 
 tracted ; a crimson spot burned on each cheek, 
 her lips had sharpened. She looked as if she 
 could spring. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said abruptly, " he has no wish 
 to marry again unless unless I will go back to 
 him." 
 
 " You go back ? " repeated Kathleen blankly. 
 
 " I have gone back," said Bella. " I went there 
 yesterday. I stayed there last night." 
 
 " I don t believe it," said Kathleen recklessly. 
 
 " I wanted to see my child, of course there is 
 always that bond between us." 
 
 " I don t believe it," said Kathleen again. 
 
 "Lawrence came home, we dined together and 
 afterwards " 
 
 " I don t believe it." 
 
 " And the reason I have come to you to-day is 
 to tell you that he is my husband, that his child is 
 my child, that " 
 
 " I don t believe it." 
 
 " And to ask you to give up any sort of engage 
 ment you have entered into with him." 
 
 "I shall not give up any engagement," cried 
 Kathleen, at the end of her patience, and with an 
 electrical glow and fire and daring about her whole 
 face and manner. " A woman who was engaged 
 to him would be wicked, I consider, if she gave 
 him up to you. He ought to be saved from you. 
 He ought to be run away with. I cannot conceive 
 how you could have ventured to come here with 
 
404 THE STORY OF LA WHENCE GARTHE. 
 
 this story, Mrs. Hernandez. I see the outrage it 
 implies. But I tlo not believe in you, I do not 
 believe in a word you have uttered, and I wish you 
 a very good afternoon." 
 
 Five minutes later Mrs. Hernandez found her 
 self in her carriage on her way back to the Percy. 
 She hardly comprehended how her exit from the 
 house had been effected. She knew that Mrs. 
 Garner had suddenly risen to her feet, looking 
 very tall, very pretty, her blue eyes blazing, her 
 lips curling ; she had rung the bell for a servant, 
 made a gesture towards the door, and custom, pro 
 priety, civilized routine, had done the rest. They 
 were stronger than any savage instinct. Bella could 
 not assert herself against them. She felt herself 
 rebuffed ; experienced a sense of inadequacy. No 
 thing in the experience had pleased her ; of all the 
 exploits of Bella Brown this had satisfied her least. 
 Mrs. Garner, in spite of her careless dress and dis 
 ordered hair, had represented to her an ideal of 
 elegance and charm beyond her experience. She 
 could forgive her nothing. She only hoped that 
 she had planted an arrow which would rankle in 
 her heart. 
 
 Returning to the Percy, she was received by Miss 
 Shepard, who had come back, and, sitting before a 
 desk, was looking at her notes for a lecture to be 
 delivered at four o clock. She greeted Bella with 
 unusual cordiality, but her peace of mind was of 
 short duration, for Bella on the instant poured out 
 
FERDINAND HARTLEY S AMBITION. 405 
 
 the whole story of her experiences during the past 
 twenty-four hours, flinching at nothing. 
 
 " This separates us forever," said Miss Shepard 
 coldly. She tied up the loose sheets of her manu 
 script, and rose with an absent air. 
 
 " I cannot understand why you should be angry 
 with me," said Bella. 
 
 " No, you do not understand," said Eugenia. 
 
 After trying in vain to melt this icy demeanor, 
 Bella grew bored, and permitted Miss Shepard to 
 depart without any concession. It was clear to 
 her that her enterprise had struck Eugenia rather 
 as a success than as a disheartening failure, and 
 Bella s spirits began to rise again. Of course the 
 role she had played hardly came up to Eugenia s 
 requirements of her ; the mission she had imposed 
 upon herself had not been exactly a delicate one, 
 but she had been obliged to act for herself; indeed, 
 when in her career had she not been obliged to 
 do and dare, leaving weak, timid souls to look and 
 long and tremble on the brink! She repented 
 nothing, yet the experience had sickened her of 
 New York, had made her feel that she was an 
 tagonistic to New York. The idea that she had 
 encountered nothing save mortification and failure 
 here had presented itself before, but it had been 
 unwelcome, and she had accepted it only condition 
 ally, reserving to herself the right of testing all 
 sorts of experience, of touching and handling ; 
 now she had made the experiment, and she sur- 
 
406 TUE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 rendered. She was tired of New York, or was it 
 that she was tired of herself, of her bad manage 
 ment, her continual false moves? The sense of 
 isolation, of the emptiness, the uselessness, of her 
 own efforts, grew ; she experienced a sense of irk- 
 someness, of trying to breathe in a void. All at 
 once came a tap at the door, and a man brought a 
 card on a salver. 
 
 Bella cast a glance at herself in the mirror, and 
 in an instant all her regrets, vexations, and humil 
 iations vanished. " Ask Mr. Hartley to come up, * 
 she said. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 RENUNCIATION. 
 
 LEFT alone, Kathleen Garner, after hearing the 
 street door close upon her visitor, drew a long 
 breath of relief, turned, and to her surprise saw 
 that Constance was standing between the half 
 open curtains which divided the alcove from the 
 main drawing-room. 
 
 " Have you been there all the time ? " gasped 
 Kathy. 
 
 "No, not all the time," answered Constance, 
 who was very pale. 
 
 " I remember now I heard some one come in. 
 Did you know who that was ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Hernandez." 
 
 " Is n t she a terror ! Did you hear what she 
 said?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " She seems to me like like a Mary Magda 
 len who has n t repented," said Kathleen. " Did 
 you believe what she said ? " 
 
 " Could one disbelieve it ? " 
 
 "Oh, Constance," cried Kathy, seeing in the 
 girl s whole look and feeling, in her tone and 
 words, a conflict of feeling, " I know what you are 
 
408 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 thinking of." She put her arms about her neck 
 and clasped her close. " You are thinking, suppose 
 I had married Mr. Gartlie when you wanted me 
 to do it, how embarrassing this would have been ! 
 You are cleverer than I am, Constance, but some 
 times you are wrong." 
 
 " I am always wrong," murmured Constance. 
 
 " I never did like divorces," said Kathleen, 
 " but the practical discomfort of them never struck 
 me before. She had heard I was going to be mar 
 ried. It startled me so, it seemed like clairvoy 
 ance ; for Constance, I am going to be married." 
 
 Constance did not seem at first to hear; her 
 ardent young face had taken on a new, indefinable 
 look of trouble. 
 
 " Not to Mr. Garthe," Kathy pursued, bringing 
 a hand down firmly on each of the other s shoul 
 ders as a clear intimation that any anxiety about 
 a possible complication in that direction was quite 
 too absurd; " to somebody else altogether." 
 
 Constance, with visible effort, brought back her 
 thoughts to answer the present demand upon her 
 sympathies. She looked at the bright, triumphant 
 face close to hers. 
 
 " Do you mean Mr. Marchmont ? " she ex 
 claimed. " Oh, Kathy, how glad I am ! " She 
 found her heart swelling, she could not help utter 
 ing a sort of sob. 
 
 " You are not crying, Constance," said Kathy, 
 as they clasped each other anew, a deep, insistent, 
 
RENUNCIATION. 409 
 
 but widely different thought giving a sort of pas 
 sion to them both. 
 
 " Oh, not crying, Kathy, but I am so glad, it is 
 such a relief. I wanted so to have you happy, 
 dear. I was stupid, clumsy, went to work in the 
 wrong way, but I did want with all my heart and 
 soul to have you happy, and lately, I had begun to 
 think" 
 
 She stopped short, remembering how she had 
 come to the belief that it was Kathleen s fate to 
 marry John Marchmont. 
 
 " There was never but one way, there was 
 never but one person," cried Kathy. " I never 
 cared for anybody else, I never thought of any 
 body else, there never could have been anybody 
 else. When I woke up in the morning I always 
 said to myself I hoped Mr. Marchmont would 
 come to-day. I did not quite understand why. 
 But I was always jealous if he looked at anybody 
 else, if he spoke to anybody else. I felt as if he 
 belonged to me ; I did, really. I could n t have let 
 him marry anybody else, could I, Constance, 
 Blanche Challoner, for example ? " 
 
 "I do not imagine he ever wished to marry 
 Blanche Challoner," said Constance. 
 
 " No," murmured Kathy, almost ready to make 
 a full confession, although it had been such a com 
 fort that John Marchmont had promised that the 
 story of how their engagement came about should 
 remain their own consecrated secret. " He is in 
 
410 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 love with me ; I do feel that he is in love with me. 
 Of course, not as much as I - " She broke off. 
 "I must dress at once," she exclaimed hurriedly. 
 " He only went away for an hour. He will be 
 back, and I must l>e ready for him." 
 
 The two went up the stairs together hand in 
 hand, and Constance, following Kathleen into her 
 own room, embraced her once more ; then leaving 
 her with the new happiness which surrounded her 
 like a halo, the girl went into the little blue-and- 
 white morning-room and sat down. 
 
 " Thank heaven I have it to bear, not Kathy," 
 she said to herself with a sensation of relief. It 
 was her own trouble ; Kathy was safe. 
 
 She had known there was something which 
 Garthe had shrunk from telling her, but her 
 imagination, when it had exercised itself upon his 
 past, had worked only along the channels of what 
 roused her pity and sympathy. She had no ex 
 perience which made her suspect wrong, and even 
 when he had made allusion to his own faults she 
 had felt a strong impulse to vindicate him as if 
 against himself. This clear illumination put every 
 thing into a new aspect, and ran like a fire over 
 his every hint and suggestion, making them lurid, 
 giving a terrific meaning to his confession that 
 there had been something in his life which had 
 separated him from any thoughts of happiness. 
 
 She had returned hastily, intending to write a 
 note at the desk in the alcove, and then go out 
 
REN UN CIA TION. 411 
 
 again. She had heard voices in the drawing-room, 
 and, supposing it to be some ordinary visitor, had 
 not thought of being curious as to her personality, 
 or of any necessity for either listening to the con 
 versation or avoiding it. To her surprise she had, 
 the moment she sat down, heard Lawrence Garthe s 
 name mentioned ; then there came this disclosure. 
 She hated the secret, she hated the way she had 
 heard the secret. All her feelings, instincts, fac 
 ulties gathered into one pulsation, which made 
 her say to herself with a swift outleap of indig 
 nation, offended pride, almost of disgust, " He 
 ought to have told me. He ought to have told 
 me." , 
 
 Whatever his early married experience had been, 
 however painful, however possibly shameful, she 
 had supposed it ended by death, that sanctification 
 of mortal conflict, that final pause to the most rest 
 less insurrection against fate. Yet all the time the 
 woman who had made all his history was alive, was 
 young, rich, almost beautiful, triumphantly moving 
 on in a career which no doubt satisfied herself, 
 answered her own ambitions. She had reasserted 
 her power over Garthe ; she had been his wife, she 
 was the mother of his child ; she had claimed her 
 place in his house, and he had yielded it. If there 
 were some brutality implied in her coming here to 
 clear up any doubt or uncertainty concerning the 
 true position of Lawrence Garthe, it was perhaps 
 a necessary, an inevitable brutality, inherent in the 
 
412 THE STORY OF LA WHENCE GAB THE. 
 
 nature of the circumstances, and not the woman s 
 own fault. 
 
 For under the shock of feeling which had shat 
 tered her own dream-world, the announcement 
 which Kathleen had so scornfully rejected, Con 
 stance, with a fuller sense of its significance, had 
 instantly accepted, accepted while tingling under 
 the humiliation of the blow and the pain of the 
 sting. In the bewilderment of finding herself so ter 
 ribly in the wrong, it seemed burned and bitten into 
 her consciousness that she had perhaps seemed an 
 obstacle in the way of the easy adjustment of con 
 flicting claims. She knew by the woman s tone 
 and look that she was cruel, that she had taken 
 vindictive pleasure in spoiling and trampling down 
 whatever opposed her, yet acquiesced in the ruth 
 less spoliation, finding it impossible to take up arms 
 against her. She forced herself to dwell upon every 
 detail of the woman s confession, giving each hint 
 its fullest meaning. Of course, she said to her 
 self with intense exaltation of feeling, it was the 
 only way; so long as that woman had existence 
 she must have a place in those two lives ; she could 
 not be barred out. No woman could have been 
 Lawrence Garthe s wife without loving him, with 
 out accepting him as an ideal beyond any other 
 possible ideal. She forced herself to think, with 
 all the vivid picturing of which she was capable, of 
 what their lives must have been together, of the 
 memories they had in common, of their mutual 
 
RENUNCIATION. 413 
 
 relation to the child. For Constance, with her own 
 impressions of Lawrence Garthe, of his expressive 
 glance which seemed to fasten upon her and read 
 her thoughts, his voice which had thrilled and 
 awakened her, reaching deep-lying fibres of feeling 
 which no one else had ever moved, applying to 
 these different circumstances the same motive and 
 the same feeling, saw him, in imagination, meet 
 ing Bella as he had met herself, and saw Bella re 
 sponding with the fervor of fresh and unspoiled 
 emotion. 
 
 What wonder then that the girl shrank, recoiled, 
 longed to hide herself? That her mind, moving 
 confusedly backward, saw her most trivial action 
 in a terrible light? That she remembered how, 
 with all her thoughts running in one groove, she 
 had speculated on the chances of his caring for 
 Kathy, had gone out of her way to reach him, to 
 encourage him, to draw him on? He had never 
 misled her, he had always told her that he had 
 long felt an alien, cut off from the happiness of 
 every-day life. Such thoughts came swiftly and in 
 sistently. Her active fancy wrought on her vision 
 of Garthe and the mother of his little boy, until 
 she saw him now as a man who has escaped ship 
 wreck and stands on firm ground again, full of 
 boundless gratitude. She rejoiced, she said, she 
 must rejoice, but she experienced a chill loneliness, 
 a throbbing pain, and her strength fell short of the 
 task she allotted to it. 
 
414 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE G.LRTHE. 
 
 It was still early on the following day when 
 Lawrence Garthe s card was brought to Constance 
 with the message that he hoped she would be good 
 enough to see him for five minutes. John March- 
 mont had breakfasted with them, then had taken 
 Kathleen out for a walk, and Constance was alone 
 in the morning-room, her strength spent by the 
 painful mental struggle which had kept her awake 
 all night. She started to her feet, trembling at the 
 news that Garthe was within reach of her, with 
 an impulse almost of indignation. She had been 
 thinking of him as separated from her forever, and, 
 as a stranger who had appealed to her sympathy, 
 she could make just allowance for him, could reason 
 dispassionately about this unforeseen crisis of his 
 life which had laid fresh obligations on him. But 
 to stand before him, to meet his eyes, to hear his 
 voice, was to impose too hard a necessity upon her 
 strength. She trembled at the thought of it, 
 she was afraid of the coercion she was always under 
 in his presence. That the coercion was strong, or 
 that the first feeling of terror was subsiding and 
 leaving more and more room in her mind for active 
 thought of what this crisis might mean in Lawrence 
 Garthe s own life, making her sympathetic and 
 helpful, instead of inclined to stand aloof, was evi 
 dent, when, after standing for a few moments 
 pressing her palms to her temples in indecision, 
 she turned suddenly and walked slowly downstairs 
 and into the drawing-room. 
 
REN UN CIA TION. 415 
 
 Garthe, holding Larry by the hand, was standing 
 near the door. Their eyes met a moment, then 
 without other greeting he said : 
 
 " This is my boy ; I have brought him to see you." 
 
 He led the little fellow up to Constance, who 
 took the child s hand in hers, stooped, looked into 
 the cherub face, and then, sitting down, lifted him 
 upon her lap. If tears had gathered, if a sob 
 choked her, it was because the fixed sadness in 
 Garthe s look and tone had seemed to cut him off 
 from hope. 
 
 Larry gazed back at her solemnly. 
 
 "Papa," he whispered in an awed voice, "she 
 is crying." 
 
 " I did not mean to cry, Larry," she said, kissing 
 him. " I am very glad to see you. I have heard 
 a great deal about you. Your papa has told 
 me." 
 
 Garthe, standing near and looking down at them 
 both, laid a hand on each of the child s shoulders. 
 
 " This is the dear lady, Larry," he said, " of 
 whom I spoke to you last Sunday. She had prom 
 ised to be your mamma and my wife. Since then 
 your own poor mother, who is alive, who left you 
 and me years ago, who has hitherto been content 
 to live a life apart from us both, has come back 
 into your life. It is your great misfortune, Larry, 
 and mine as well." 
 
 He was watching Constance s face as he spoke. 
 
 "I see," he said, "that you know." 
 
416 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " Yes," she answered as if under compulsion, " I 
 know. * 
 
 " You understand now why I could not bring my 
 self on the instant to tell you." 
 
 " I understand it all." 
 
 " You feel that I deceived you " 
 
 She made a little gesture as if to silence him, 
 but he went on. " You see me now a detected im 
 postor, a schemer, who concealed facts to suit his 
 own purpose, who ought before he approached 
 you to have let you understand that a fatality 
 kept us apart." 
 
 She had gathered Larry into her arms more 
 closely, and, holding him there, leaned forward and 
 looked up with her brave child s face, and said with 
 a sob : 
 
 "I did feel for a moment, when I heard, 
 that I wished you had trusted me more completely. 
 You told me we were friends, yet you kept me in 
 the dark about your history, locked it up in 
 silence " 
 
 A shudder ran through him. 
 
 " The thing was abhorrent to me, abhorrent,i 
 he said in a low voice. " 1 could not speak of it. 
 I could never get used to it even in my own 
 thoughts." He walked away a few steps hurriedly, 
 then returned. " I could by an effort of will rea 
 son myself into the belief that the matter was easy 
 and simple. I could think to myself that the cir 
 cumstances were not unusual, that they must have 
 
RENUNCIATION. 417 
 
 occurred in thousands of cases, that they offered 
 no real impediment, that I was free before God and 
 man. I could think what blessedness it would be 
 if I could win you. I could say to myself that 
 that if you would consent to love me I might yet 
 prove myself not altogether unworthy ; yet all the 
 time I was oppressed by the consciousness that the 
 tie was there, that nothing could alter or break it, 
 that it was an irremediable fact, that I .had with 
 open eyes made my fate for myself and must bear 
 the penalty ; only, Constance, from the moment my 
 eyes fell on you, I loved you, loved you, loved 
 you." 
 
 " It was my fault," she said hurriedly. " I blame 
 myself." The expression of her face as she looked 
 up, with its yearning of sympathy, gripped his 
 heart. 
 
 " Your fault ! " he repeated, with half-amused 
 irony. " Of course it was your fault." He 
 paused a moment, and his eyes devoured her face ; 
 then he went on hurriedly : " I went away from you 
 last Sunday in a mood fit for Heaven. Still the 
 presentiment must have been in my mind, for I 
 dreamed of her, dreamed of her hideously. Then 
 the next night I went home, and there she was 
 planted at my fireside. ... I have said to myself a 
 hundred times since that if I had had the will, the 
 nerve, the courage of a man, if I had not been a 
 coward, I should have sent her away 011 the instant, 
 or at least have taken Larry in my arms and left 
 
418 THE 8TOEY OF LAWRENCE GARTUE. 
 
 her to her barren triumph. But I faltered with a 
 fear of being cruel, I dallied, I waited to see how 
 events woidd turn. I have sometimes, in living over 
 and over again every detail of my life with her, 
 confessed to myself that perhaps I had been over- 
 hasty and harsh. Accordingly, now I was the more 
 constrained to say, k She is Larry s mother ; it 
 would be cruel to forbid her the right to see the 
 child, and and she had the softness, the allure 
 ment which disarms a man, makes him feel that a 
 woman is a tenderer thing than himself. Besides, 
 but no matter, the fact remains, I did not drive 
 her out. She sat down at my hearth, she had a 
 place opposite me at table, she talked and frolicked 
 with the boy, drew his head to her breast, 
 made a domestic picture, with a tact, a skill of 
 which I should not have believed her capable, pre 
 tended to feel regret, repentance, remorse, she 
 even told me of her aspirations to come back and 
 try it all over again. It was all a bribe to my 
 love for Larry." 
 
 The boy a little constrained and ill at ease, feel 
 ing, too, that the clasp upon him was relaxed, as 
 his father leaned towards the girl in his low-toned 
 explanation, broken every now and then by an in 
 tonation which seemed like a smothered cry, his 
 face pale, his eyes full of anguish had crept 
 away and was kneeling before a cabinet at a little 
 distance. There were idols, and strange carvings ; 
 a wonderful dragon, too, which moved under his 
 
RENUNCIATION. 419 
 
 touch like a thing of life, with scales of gold and 
 silver, and eyes of sparkling gems. He uttered a 
 startled exclamation as the creature seemed to coil 
 itself and spring. 
 
 " Look ! " he cried, but Garthe and Constance, 
 both pale, with trembling lips, were gazing at each 
 other, and saw nothing. 
 
 She was looking at him, feeling the need of 
 speech, but yet could hardly bring her stiffened 
 lips to utter a syllable. He saw the struggle in 
 her face and waited ; he took her hand gently 
 between his, saying, soothingly : 
 
 " What is it, dear one ? " 
 
 She did not repulse him, but looked at him, 
 and let him fold both his hands over hers. A little 
 tremor passed over her face, a few tears gathered, 
 then she could falter out, 
 
 " Lawrence, if she loved you, if she trusted 
 you, if "- 
 
 He looked into her face wonderingly. 
 
 " She did not love me, she did not trust me. 
 She is a woman whose heart is snares and nets." 
 
 "But but," whispered Constance, "you your 
 self just said that nothing could alter the fact, and 
 if for Larry s sake " 
 
 He had dropped her hands ; he stood erect, and 
 looked down at her with a look as if his whole soul 
 were wrung. 
 
 " Would you condemn me to that fate ? " he 
 asked. 
 
420 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " If she loved you, if she trusted you, if she 
 longed to atone " said Constance, unable to raise 
 her eyes, yet filled with the need of expressing all 
 that had been in her heart and mind since yester 
 day, believing, too, that the irrevocable had hap 
 pened that the turning-point in their lives had 
 come, and that Garthe s mission to-day was to vin 
 dicate his course to her. Although she could not 
 look up, she could stretch out her arms at full 
 length in an attitude of beseeching. " I am sure 
 she had been very unhappy." 
 
 Garthe came a little nearer. 
 
 "Let me tell you what happened," he said qui 
 etly. " The night was snowy, there was a raging 
 tempest, she could not go away, and finally I 
 did what I might better have done at first, I 
 walked straight out of the house into the drifts 
 and the cutting wind. I would not be entrapped." 
 
 She looked up at him, painfully silenced, yet not 
 comprehending anything except that she must in 
 no way do injustice even to the woman for whom 
 she felt an instinct of unsurmountable aversion and 
 dread. 
 
 " I had neither hat nor cloak," he pursued, with a 
 half laugh, " and it was almost a matter of surprise, 
 when after walking a quarter of a mile, I came to 
 a hotel which still showed lights ; I was admitted, 
 and given a room. I went into it and sat down. 
 Whether I was cold or warm, wet or dry, I do not 
 know ; I only remember that I felt stifled and 
 
RENUNCIATION. 421 
 
 suffocated, and missed the cool beat of the sleet 
 upon my face. It did not occur to me to go to bed, 
 still there was a benumbing mist over my facul 
 ties ; I could not think coherently, or realize, ex 
 cept by effort, what the real situation was. I said 
 then, audibly, I think, I am under the ban, I 
 have lost Constance. "We can never be married. 
 
 He stopped short. Constance had made a gesture. 
 
 " Of course," she said brokenly, " you had a 
 feeling that I that it somehow concerned me 
 but let all that go. Of course, it could not be, 
 it belonged to another condition of things. You 
 have said over and over that the feeling for me 
 had come upon you unawares, that even when 
 you tried to make it seem easy and natural you 
 had felt that a fatality separated us." 
 
 " Not if you loved me, not if you would ven 
 ture to give yourself to me," said Garthe in a clear, 
 tender tone, and with a glance which penetrated 
 to her very soul, and which gave her the feeling of 
 being compelled against her will to lay bare her 
 deepest consciousness. 
 
 " I could not, I could not, I ought not, it 
 would not be right," she cried, urged by a necessity 
 of leaving him free t<v act, no matter at what cost 
 to herself. " I did not know, I could not guess, 
 - 1 feel that you belong to your old life, unalter 
 ably ; and you have almost said in so many words 
 that in finding her there you felt your old love for 
 her return." 
 
422 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " No, no, no ; a thousand times, no," he cried out 
 almost fiercely. 
 
 " She is a beautiful woman," said Constance 
 quietly. 
 
 " She is a beautiful woman, I admit," replied 
 Garthe. " Let me resolve as I might, all through 
 these six years, never to think of her, still the idea 
 haunted me that she was young, that life might be 
 cruel to her. It was a relief to see that she had 
 not suffered, rather had developed beyond expecta 
 tion. But as for loving her," he went on, " rather 
 I hated her, or more truly I might say that I felt 
 insulted, humiliated, that she had somehow con 
 trived to develop, improve, attain wealth, ease, 
 position. Her soft white hands, laden with rings, 
 the diamonds at her throat, the fit of her gown, 
 the way she stood, sat, smiled, spoke, each was 
 an added insult ; it galled me, it stung me, it 
 represented all I rejected, repudiated." 
 
 His breathing was quick and painful ; his face 
 was flushed, his eyes burning. Every word he 
 uttered seemed to oppress and torture him. 
 
 " He loves her," Constance said within herself, 
 her own face crimsoning, a wave of intense feeling 
 passing through her. " He loves her still, as a 
 man can love but once." Then she said aloud : 
 
 " But she still feels that her life is bound up in 
 yours." 
 
 " How do you know ? " he demanded, turning on 
 her quickly. 
 
RENUNCIATION. 423 
 
 " She was here yesterday," said Constance. 
 
 " You saw her ? She spoke to you ? It was she 
 who communicated the facts ? " 
 
 " It was to Kathy she spoke. There was some 
 mistake." 
 
 He uttered a passionate exclamation, stood for 
 an instant looking down at her, then walked to a 
 little distance and stood as if rooted to the floor. 
 It seemed to her that he was very angry, but pres 
 ently he spoke with perfect self-control. 
 
 " She had, perhaps, heard that I wished to 
 marry you, but confounded your identity with that 
 of Mrs. Garner." 
 
 " Evidently," Constance murmured, shrinking. 
 
 "It is as if I had committed a crime," he 
 said with bitter irony. " I am chained to it, 
 I cannot rid myself of it ; my whole life is irre 
 mediably spoiled by it." 
 
 "It need not be irremediably spoiled," she said 
 gently. 
 
 His eyes searched her face. 
 
 " You mean that " - 
 
 " I mean that she loves you, trusts you, wishes 
 to atone," said Constance, using again the same 
 formula of words she had used before. " It is 
 possible for you to be happy yet." 
 
 He gave her a strange glance. 
 
 " Let me tell you," he said quietly, " what else 
 happened Monday night, or rather Tuesday morn 
 ing. At first, when she had, as it were, made a 
 
424 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 bid for Larry, I had been too angry, too stupefied to 
 feel certain of what I actually thought about the 
 matter. Sometimes, as I sat there, rigid as a dead 
 man, it occurred to me that since I was, of course, 
 unalterably separated from you, the course she 
 suggested might be the very best thing. For my 
 self, what did anything matter? For Larry, it 
 might simplify the facts of every-day existence not 
 to be separated from his mother. Thus my mind, 
 conscious only of a terrible dreariness, of the 
 quenching of the spark of hope I had been walking 
 by, of the victory of darkness over light, groped 
 on in its despair. But finally, with the first glimpse 
 of the rose of dawn, with a star shining above 
 the arch in the east, I at last saw clearly ; I would 
 die before I ever again had part or lot with that 
 woman. My first duty was to get Larry away 
 from that wild beast ambushed in my house. As 
 soon as I could procure a conveyance, I went for 
 my little son and took him with me." 
 
 " See, papa ! " cried Larry in triumph, having 
 by this time mastered the dragon, and holding him 
 in a fast grasp. 
 
 " Come, dear, we must go," said Garthe. He 
 took hold of the boy s hand and went up to Con 
 stance. " I do not know what I can say," he 
 murmured, "except good-by, and to ask you to 
 forgive me for bringing anything painful and 
 disagreeable into your life." 
 
 She put out both hands with a sort of sob. 
 
REN UN CIA TION. 425 
 
 " I have vexed you," she said, in a broken voice, 
 " and yet " 
 
 " Yet you consider everything over between us, 
 that so long as she lives she separates me from 
 any other possible life ? " 
 
 She was conscious of the question in his eyes, 
 and cowered. 
 
 " Kiss Larry, will you not ? " said Garthe gently. 
 
 She drew the child to her, clasped him in her 
 arms, looking into his wondering, loving face, and 
 said softly : " Good-by, dear." 
 
 Tears overcame her ; when she looked up again 
 they were gone. She rose and walked towards the 
 door. It seemed to her that she must say one 
 word more or her heart would break. She put 
 aside the curtains and looked out, but no one was 
 to be seen except a servant, who approached her 
 with the message that a lady had come in while 
 she was engaged with her visitor and was waiting 
 for her upstairs in the morning-room. 
 
 It flashed across the mind of Constance instantly 
 that this must be the alienated wife, come anew 
 with some request for mediation, some petition for 
 help. In spite of her wish to undo any possible 
 wrong she had done, and to avert any fresh mis 
 take, her instinctive feeling towards the woman 
 who made calamity of Lawrence Garthe s life was 
 of dread. How could she meet her ? She hated to 
 think of her against the background of the peace 
 ful blue-and-white room, as she approached it. 
 
426 THE STORY OF LAWBENCE GAR THE. 
 
 The thought of the ordeal gave her courage 
 against the pain she was suffering, and she entered 
 the place with a look of heightened resolution; 
 then, catching a glimpse of her visitor, who had 
 risen, she exclaimed : 
 
 " Miss Shepard ? " 
 
 "Yes, I am Eugenia Shepard," said the other, 
 clasping her hand. " Will you forgive me for 
 coming in this way? I heard you had a visitor, 
 and I wished particularly to see you alone, not 
 even with Mrs. Garner." 
 
 " She has gone out. I am not sure when she 
 will be back," said Constance, with eagerly 
 awakened conjectures as to what the visit must 
 mean. Miss Shepard s connection with that other 
 person suddenly loomed up with more or less of 
 threat in it. 
 
 " May I close the door ? " the visitor asked. 
 
 Constance instantly acted on the suggestion, 
 and stood waiting, her whole face kindled with 
 some feeling which seemed almost like defiance. 
 
 There was a moment s silence; Miss Shepard, 
 looking at the girl, was conscious that her young 
 heart must be beating with some strange excite 
 ment. 
 
 " You know," she said abruptly, " that I have 
 been living with Mrs. Hernandez as companion, 
 secretary, what not ? " 
 
 4 1 have heard it." 
 
 " You will comprehend that there is little of 
 
RENUNCIATION. 427 
 
 Mrs. Hernandez history with which I am unac 
 quainted." 
 
 " I can readily believe it if you say so," said 
 Constance calmly. 
 
 " I have come to tell you that she was married 
 to Mr. Ferdinand Hartley at nine o clock this 
 morning, and that at eleven o clock they sailed for 
 Europe. I drove here from the wharf after seeing 
 them off." 
 
 "Married to Mr. Hartley?" Constance repeated 
 mechanically, growing intensely pale and her eyes 
 full of dismay. 
 
 " Yes ; will you tell Mrs. Garner this piece of 
 news, which may or may not interest her? Of 
 course it will be in the evening paper, but I felt it 
 best to come and give it to her myself, or rather 
 to beg you to do so." 
 
 " Married to Mr. Hartley? " Constance reiterated, 
 as if still incredulous. 
 
 " This final climax was sudden," exclaimed Miss 
 Shepard, "but it did not surprise me. She has 
 been for weeks wavering on the verge of a decision 
 to accept Mr. Hartley, going forward and back, 
 but I felt that some end like this was inevitable." 
 
 She was startled by a change of color in the 
 face of the girl before her, and by her confused 
 movement backward as if reaching out blindly for 
 a chair. She flung her arm about the slender 
 figure, but in a moment Constance had regained 
 her self-command. 
 
428 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 " May I sit down ? " she asked with a curiously 
 humble intonation. " I am not quite well to-day. 
 
 She looked at Miss Shepard, mute, but her eyes 
 were full of questions for which she could not 
 easily find words. " I do not quite understand, 
 she said after this silence in which she seemed to 
 have been groping for some clue. " Mrs. Hernan 
 dez was here yesterday " 
 
 " It was that circumstance which brought me 
 here to-day," said Miss Shepard angrily. " From 
 what she told me of her visit to Mrs. Garner I felt 
 sure that she had tried to make trouble, to 
 meddle between her and Mr. Garthe. She had 
 heard that they were engaged." 
 
 Miss Shepard s eyes sought Constance s face 
 questioningly. 
 
 " Mrs. Garner s engagement to Mr. John March- 
 inont is already announced to our friends," said 
 Constance quietly and proudly. 
 
 " Then she was misled by a false rumor. In 
 any case, since she came to this house, I felt it 
 my duty to make things clear. She tried to do 
 harm, she endeavored to give a false impression. 
 She is not absolutely without conscience unless an 
 impulse possesses her, then she is ruthless. When 
 the fancy seizes her that she wishes to do a certain 
 thing, she lets herself be run away by it regardless 
 of consequences. She never repents, she does 
 not know what repentance means. It is enough 
 for her to dismiss the idea of what she has done, 
 
KEN UN CIA TION. 429 
 
 to say that the past is past, then she troubles 
 herself no more about it. She remarked to me 
 this morning that she had burned all her ships 
 behind her, and should never think of her life in 
 New York again, for she hated it." Eugenia s 
 tone was abrupt and scornful. 
 
 There was silence again. 
 
 " 1 do not wish to speak ill of her," she went 011 
 again with fresh impetuosity. " In her way she 
 has been good to me. Without her I should have 
 missed my opportunity. Not that I was wholly 
 egoistic, wholly sordid. I believed in her at 
 first. I believed there was a strength in her, a 
 touch of greatness, a sort of dramatic force which 
 might be developed, might be the means of rais 
 ing others. I used to be certain that I could 
 bring her to different views of life from those 
 which had hitherto actuated her, could make 
 her feel that her experience had been an edu 
 cation, a preparation for a high mission." There 
 had been an eager vindication of herself in her 
 tone ; now she uttered a short, harsh laugh. " I 
 was deceived. She is a woman whom nothing can 
 bind, any tie is something to fling away the 
 moment it becomes a burden." 
 
 Constance rose with a sudden swift movement, 
 and put her hand on the other s arm. " Tell me," 
 she said hastily, " if she spoke to you about going 
 to see Mr. Garthe." 
 
 " She told me the entire story. You see, Miss 
 
430 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHE. 
 
 Garner, it has been her habit to pour everything 
 out to me ; she said I was her conscience-keeper. 
 From the moment she heard that Mr. Garthe was 
 in New York, there was a new, fierce restlessness 
 about her. She talked of him incessantly ; her 
 mind seemed perfectly taken possession of by the 
 thought of him ; she cared for nothing else. Do 
 you know him well?" Miss Shepard added, paus 
 ing abruptly in her narration and flinging out this 
 question. 
 
 A consuming blush rose to Constance s pale 
 face. Her lips quivered, her eyes brimmed over. 
 
 " Yes," she said, shaken by a strange agitation. 
 
 " Do I need to justify him to you ? " asked 
 Eugenia again. 
 
 " No, no ; I believe in him from the bottom of 
 my soul," cried Constance, with a new intensity in 
 her face and tone. 
 
 " I asked," Eugenia said very softly, " because 
 it has been my own experience that even where 
 human lives meet most closely, painful and pitiful 
 alienation sometimes happens because the truth is 
 not made clear. The real substance and meaning of 
 things eludes, but leaves the misleading husk in our 
 hands. So if you had any doubt of Mr. Garthe " 
 
 " I have none, not the slightest," cried Con 
 stance, as if she might in this way atone for a 
 momentary perfidy. " If," she went on with more 
 agitation in her voice, " I believed for a moment 
 what she said about her wish to return to him 
 
RENUNCIATION. 431 
 
 " She return to him ? " repeated Miss Shep- 
 ird. "Every spark of feeling she had ever felt 
 or Mr. Garthe had turned into a wish to sting 
 dm, to torture him. She was still jealous, but it 
 yas a savage instinct ; it had no touch of love in 
 t. If he had yielded to her, shown her the least 
 ouch of the old feeling, she would have derided it, 
 aughed it to scorn." 
 
 The expression of Constance s face almost 
 tartled her : she saw in it something that was 
 lalf joy and half terror, a clear relief, as if some 
 jreat dread had passed, and yet a sorrow which 
 lad to be accepted and borne. 
 
 " I have meddled enough in affairs which do not 
 concern me," Miss Shepard now said with plenty of 
 lecision. " I must go ; if I have intruded " 
 
 " You have been most kind, most helpful," said 
 Constance. "If I have seemed ungrateful, it is 
 mly that my thoughts have been absorbed by what 
 rou have told me. I thank you sincerely." 
 
 " Then I have only to say good-by," said Miss 
 Shepard, looking once more into the girl s pale 
 :ace, then going out, down the stairs and into the 
 street, with a feeling that the trouble she saw in 
 Constance s eyes was one that no third person 
 3ould directly touch. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 AFTER LONG GRIEF AND PAIN. 
 
 SOME months later Constance left the hotel at 
 Miirren one afternoon where she was staying with 
 Mr. and Mrs. John Marchmont, who, having been 
 married soon after Easter, had come abroad for 
 the summer, bringing her with them. It had been 
 a transition time with her ; everything old and pre 
 cious had been waning, and nothing new and en 
 during had yet waxed to fullness. She had never 
 seen Lawrence Garthe since he had brought Larry 
 to her on that strange morning long ago, and had 
 only heard from him in a hasty note explaining 
 that he had suddenly decided to join a party of 
 scientists going to South America. She had writ 
 ten in reply, but he had not answered, and his 
 silence had been painful. But she felt that she 
 deserved the pain. 
 
 She left the hotel, walking along the precipice 
 above the gorge under the grim shadow of the 
 Monch, descending into the dell, then climbing the 
 steep ascent to the ridges which dominated the high 
 meadow lands, where peasants in Bernese costume 
 were making hay in picturesque fashion. As she 
 toiled up the last narrow path rudely paved, she 
 
AFTER LONG GEIEF AND PAIN. 433 
 
 met a little girl flying down the steps, her face 
 lighted up with the joy of her own daring, and her 
 blonde hair floating behind in the wind. Constance 
 loved all children in these days; she caught the 
 little creature in her arms and kissed her twice. 
 
 Just this pause was needed to detain her and 
 keep her in sight, and give the direction to the man 
 who was following her. Gaining the fragrant pas 
 ture above, the girl sat down, her heart and her eyes 
 open to the glory of the great snow peaks, which 
 heaved up their dazzling heads and shoulders 
 against the blue sky. Gazing at them, she half re 
 clined along the rock. All about her was a bed of 
 flowers, familiar, yet eloquently strange when found 
 at home here campanulas, velvety, purplish-black 
 pansies with golden eyes, bluest forget-me-nots, 
 great silver-gray thistles, violets, and saxifrage of 
 every hue. From behind the ridge came the sound 
 of a cascade, and from all sides the tinkle of cow 
 bells and the occasional pipe of a goatsherd. 
 
 It was here that Lawrence Garthe overtook her. 
 He had met Mr. Marchmont, and had heard that 
 Constance was wandering somewhere on the high 
 fragrant pasture lands. Presently, when he thought 
 she had studied out the ice-bound peaks of the Ober- 
 land, he put his hand on her broad-brimmed hat. 
 
 She looked up ; she would have started to her 
 feet, but he stooped, his arm was around her, and 
 he knelt beside her. Still he did not speak, but 
 he drew her towards him and their lips met. 
 
434 THE STORY OF LAWRENCE GARTHS. 
 
 " You took me by surprise," she said hastily, and 
 moved away a little. 
 
 " I saw you kiss the little maiden," Garthe ob 
 served, smiling. " She did not care for the kiss as 
 I did, so I took it from her and gave her a franc 
 for it." 
 
 He looked at her. " Constance," he murmured, 
 " is it still impossible for you to believe in me ? " 
 
 " I always believed in you," she said passionately. 
 " I could not have gone on living all these months, 
 unless I believed in you." 
 
 She extended her little bare, trembling hand. 
 
 He clasped it. " Your letter reached me three 
 weeks ago," he said, " the letter in which you 
 asked me to leave Larry with you when I went to 
 South America." 
 
 She drew a deep breath. 
 
 " It has altered all these months for me," he said, 
 " that I missed it. It would have given me great 
 happiness to have had the assurance that you cared 
 for Larry, for you knew all the time that we were 
 one and indivisible. If you wanted him, you 
 wanted me." 
 
 " Where is Larry now ? " she struggled to say. 
 
 " At Zurich ; I have often left him there before 
 with some worthy people. I received your letter 
 at Lima. It filled me with I know not what hopes, 
 it made me frantic to see you. I returned to 
 New York as soon as I could, found out that you 
 were abroad, and probably in Switzerland. I 
 
AFTER LONG GRIEF AND PAIN. 435 
 
 sailed the next clay for Bremen, and now for a week 
 I have been following you and the Marchmonts 
 about from place to place." He leaned towards 
 her. The shadow of the broad-brimmed hat hid 
 the upper part of her face ; he could only see the 
 lips and chin. 
 
 " Look at me," he said, " I want to see if you 
 forgive me " 
 
 " Forgive you ? " said Constance in a broken 
 voice. They said no more ; they sat with clasped 
 hands, finding no words to utter, and needing 
 none. 
 
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