At the Age of Eve Part 14

But he was not reading, and I imagined from his look that he had not been reading for some time, for he was looking straight at me with the same half-amused smile he had worn when he had sat on the old stone wall that day and told me that there was a vast difference in our ages. It seemed that he was quietly waiting for me to look at him, and, as our eyes met, he rose at once, and came over and shook hands with me.

"I was waiting for you to come out, Miss Fielding," he said, after I had introduced the two men and they had reached simultaneously for my glove, which Alfred got to first--then Mr. Chalmers began to fold the paper he had not been reading, and made preparations to leave the place as we did. "I happened to drop in here a little while ago, and, fortunately, chose this table. Then I heard your voice--I felt sure that it was you--so I waited to see."

Alfred excused himself a moment and crossed the room to speak to a white-haired old gentleman at one of the tables. I recognized this old man as a well-known back number in the medical profession of the city, and had heard Doctor Gordon say that he was pitiably grateful for any attention which the younger fellows showed him. Alfred spoke a few words of congratulation on a recent address the old doctor had made at a medical meeting, they both laughed over a half-whispered joke, then Alfred turned to leave. An appealing hand was laid on his coat sleeve, as he allowed himself to be cornered by the old man, and a harangue ensued, carried on in a quavering, high-pitched voice, with now and then a deep-toned word from Alfred.

I stood and waited for him and Richard Chalmers came closer to me as I glanced over into one of the mirrors on the wall and began to tie the big veil around my hat again, and to pull up my coat-collar a bit closer, preparatory to going out into the chilly air.

He dropped his voice and began to talk as rapidly as his lazy, southern drawl would let him. He seemed to have a good deal to say and he wished to say it all. I was in an agony of fear that the old doctor's harangue might not last long enough.

"Yes, the next week after seeing you I went East and returned only this morning," Richard's voice was saying, and, while the words made all the difference in the world to me, still I heard them only indistinctly. All I could take in was the fact that I was hearing his voice again.

"I reached the city this morning, and telephoned Clayborne about noon to ask him where you were. You remember you told me that you were booked to come home with them? I was very glad indeed when he said that you were at his house, and I should have gone out to see Mrs.

Clayborne to-night--I wanted to tell her about my mother and sister coming up to town next week for some shopping. They live in Charlotteville--eastern end of the state, you know--but Clayborne said that there was a lecture or something on for to-night. He thought you would all likely be at home to-morrow evening."

"Yes--I think so. We shall be very glad to see you."

"It was the merest chance that I dropped in here and heard you talking--I understood that something very amusing had happened at a circus."

"Yes," I said weakly.

"So I stayed to listen. You will forgive me--for I knew that it was your voice, and"--with a _wonderful_ smile--"you see I am very fond of music."

CHAPTER IX

A SHOPPING EXPEDITION

"_O Richard, O mon roi_," I carolled this morning, but I confess that I carolled it as much in an undertone as the unfortunate aristocrats had to employ when they chose to give vent to their feelings by singing that song during the Reign of Terror.

I was up-stairs in my own room at Cousin Eunice's, brushing, shaking, smoothing, folding, and now and then mending a little ripped place in my clothes, for, during the last four weeks I have done nothing but wear them. Early in the morning, all through the day, and late at night, I have lived to maltreat those clothes. And they are showing signs of being weary and wounded.

It is a good thing, possibly, that mother and Cousin Eunice would not let me have the black spangled net that my soul yearned for, else there would not have been a spangle left to tell the tale by this time.

Cousin Eunice was in the next room throughout the time I was thus employed--that is, she was in and out, hence the undertone in my singing.

"Ann," she finally called in a vexed tone, after a period of silence, "you'll live to learn, after you're married, that a man and his poll-tax receipt are soon parted."

"It's a registration certificate," I amended softly.

"Well, what if it is? It's eternally lost when they want it."

She had spent the morning emptying bureau drawers, scratching through piles of old papers, peering under the clock, into a cracked vase, moving the piano and searching in the dusty lint beneath, and dazzling her eyesight by a scramble through a five-years' acc.u.mulation of pink electric light bills--but no sign of the registration certificate.

Toward luncheon time Rufe called her up and said he hoped she had not put herself to any trouble, for he forgot to tell her early this morning that he had already found the missing paper in his pocket-book.

"They have to register before they can vote, don't they?"

I knew that they did, but I was in a mood to talk politics this morning.

"Yes. This is just a measly little munic.i.p.al election, however."

"Oh, I know that it is not gubernatorial."

"I observe that you have improved your store of knowledge mightily--since that day we sat under the althea hedge." She came into my room as she spoke, and sat down on the side of the bed.

"Yes, I feel that I know all about the state of affairs now."

"Then I wish you would tell me, so I can tell Rufe." She was tired out from her strenuous morning, and her head fell over among the pillows.

I laid down the skirt I had been brushing and seated myself on the foot of the bed.

"What's the trouble?" I asked. "I thought the matter was very simple."

"You thought the matter was simple, you dear little goose, because our favorite piece of gubernatorial timber has showered you with devoted attentions this past month. It seems that he has declared his intentions toward you--so far as looks and acts go--but he is backward about his political doings."

"Then you have just not listened to what he has said," I denied stoutly, the spirit of the game strong within me, and the spirit of my admiration for him much stronger. "n.o.body could denounce Appleton more entirely than he does!"

"Oh, Appleton!" There was infinite scorn in her tone. "What decent person doesn't denounce him?"

"Then, what's the trouble?" I asked again. "Appleton stands for whisky; we stand for water--the affair seems quite clear to me."

"And Jim Blake stands for whisky _and_ water--with a goodly dash of sugar. He's a kind of toddy for our split Democracy."

"But what has _he_ to do with Richard Chalmers?" I asked, an uneasy fear clutching at my gay spirits.

"That's just what we want to know--before the _Times_ can rally to the support of Chalmers."

"The _Times_!" I was genuinely aroused now. "Why, I thought the _Times_ had virtually _made_ Richard Chalmers."

"Well, the paper has boomed him because he has always stood for the right principles heretofore. But there is a grave complication about to set in now, it seems. Of course the people of this state are not going to stand for Appleton again--we are not Hottentots, and either a strong Democrat must come out, and stand on a strong platform, else we are going to have a Republican for governor."

"Well?"

"Well, the law-abiding faction is ready to support Richard Chalmers, so long as he does not compromise, but at the first evidence of weakening on his part--the vote goes to some _clean_ Republican."

"And you are afraid that he will join Blake--in some way?"

"In a very clearly defined way. Blake is the most popular man in the state. He could put up a good fight for anything he wanted here--and he could throw his influence to Chalmers."

I traced the pattern of the counterpane with the end of the clothes-brush which I was still holding in my hand.

"I don't know a thing about it," I said finally, my tone and feelings far different from what they were but a few minutes before, when I had declared confidently that I knew all about it. "He has never once mentioned politics to me these last few weeks."

"Well, I dare say not," she said, straightening up and smoothing back her hair. "Imagine a man talking politics before Mrs. Chalmers and Evelyn! And they have been with you every minute that you and he have been together."

It was true. These last few weeks had brought about a delightful state of closer personal contact between Richard Chalmers and me, a condition which he has seemed determined to make stronger and more p.r.o.nounced by every means in his power--and he has the most charming means--but always under the supervision of his mother and sister.

Supervision? Good heavens, what an absurd word to use in connection with either one of those women where Richard is concerned, for they are truly as much slaves to him as if he had chains around their wrists and ankles. A worshipping slave is his mother, while Evelyn is so timid and fearful in his presence that she appears to be much stupider than she really is, which is stupid enough, in all conscience!