Polly in New York Part 28

Fabian, but what we have seen and known of our dear friend, I'm sure that _he_ was never to blame for it," said Eleanor, defensively.

"I never care to gossip or to repeat a story, children, but now I think you ought to know why Mr. Dalken lives alone so much as he does. If we are to use his rooms, you must know what a magnificent character he is, and then should you hear any disagreeable gossip that can be traced to his wife, you will understand the situation."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Fabian, will never be repeated by either Nolla or me," promised Polly, solemnly.

"I know it, that is why I feel I ought to tell you.

"Mr. Dalken, as you know, is a descendant of one of the oldest Dutch Settlers in America. His family, from olden times down to the present day, were patriotic and loyal Americans. He is as staunch an American as you will find, anywhere.

"Mrs. Dalken was a poor girl, and not over-brilliant. But Mr. Dalken admired her prettiness when she was a young miss, and when he was but a slip of a youth. They went to entertainments together in the small town where they both lived, and enjoyed each other's company for two or three years.

"Then the young man went to college and saw the world. He realized how superficial Amy Lathrop was, and as time went by, he would have forgotten her completely, had she not kept up her side of the correspondence. And gradually a suggestive note crept into her letters.

"When his college days were over, young Dalken returned to his birth-place to settle the country estate that was his. Then he met Amy again, and she found him so chivalrous that it was an easy matter to give him to understand that she had waited for him these five years-that she had been the soul of faithfulness.

"Without consulting his friends, or mentioning the matter to others in the town, he became engaged to her on the claim from her, that it had so been understood before he went to college.

"Well, they were married, one day, and then our poor friend's martyrdom began. Amy Dalken was of no use in anything or in any way. True, she had two children, but it may have been much better had she never become a mother. She had no affection for them or the father, and only thought of spending money and enjoying herself to the utmost.

"Dalken was wealthy before he married Amy, and his alert mind coupled with his unusual foresightedness in finance soon rolled up fortunes for him. His wife spent money like water, and was sought after by the vultures of society-those who fawn and fondle as long as they can get something out of the victim.

"Mrs. Dalken's b.a.l.l.s and bridge-parties were famous-I might say, notorious-for at the former the extravagance was a matter of newspaper comment, and at the latter, the stakes were so high that others lifted their eyebrows at the losses and gains.

"Little Billie Dalken was eighteen months old, and the joy of our good friend's life, when a dreadful thing happened. Billie was a chubby, handsome little chap exactly like his father-the same intelligent brown eyes, the same fine features, and he was unusually clever and large for his age.

"Mr. Dalken had been called to Washington on business one day, and that same day his wife was about to give a grand dinner and bridge, later.

There were plenty of servants in the household, but on such an occasion everyone was busy with the extra work. Billie's own nurse gave him his supper and was about to put him to bed when she discovered a wheezing sound in his throat. She feared another attack of croup. She was about to apply the remedies she knew of, when Mrs. Dalken's maid came to the nursery.

"'The mistress says you are to go to her at once and I am to sit with the baby for a while. She wants her head ma.s.saged because it aches so!'

"And the nurse answered as she thought proper, 'Go and tell your mistress that Billie has a bad cold and I must remain to take care of him.'

"The maid tossed her head and left the room. She hadn't any desire to remain with a baby, especially if it was wheezing and beginning to cough. So she may have exaggerated the reply somewhat. However, that did not excuse Mrs. Dalken from her next act. She was furious and sent the butler to the nursery to pay off the nurse and see that she left the house at once!

"Then she sent the parlor-maid to sit in the nursery with the child.

That dinner was a great success, but just before the card-party began, the maid sent down word that Mrs. Dalken was to come up to the nursery at once, and see what ailed the baby-he was so red in the face and had a fever, she said.

"Mrs. Dalken whispered a reply: 'I'll be up as soon as I can get the tables started.' Then she never gave it another thought.

"Three times during that evening the frightened parlor-maid sent down for the mother to come up. And three times the hostess smiled and nodded and then forgot all about the call. Before midnight, the boy began choking and gagging and the hysterical maid ran back and forth hoping to find the butler, or someone, who would help in this extremity.

"Every servant in the house was busy serving drinks, cards, or cigarettes, and none had time to call up a doctor. Then the daring maid telephoned for a doctor she knew. But he lived so far uptown that it took half an hour to arrive at the house.

"Before he got there, little Billie Dalken was sleeping in the last long rest. No one was with him but the parlor-maid when he strangled to death; but the awful contortions of his face and body showed the suffering he endured during the convulsions.

"Mr. Dalken came home early in the morning, the Washington business having been successfully consummated without any loss of time. It was not yet seven o'clock, but everyone in the house seemed astir. The heavy fumes of smoke and the aftermath of a riotous night's play were evident throughout the first floor rooms. He smiled sardonically at it all, then rushed upstairs two steps at a time to peep at his beloved children.

"Elizabeth was weeping fearfully in her little crib that stood in the room connecting with the nursery. The moment she saw her father she screamed with relief.

"'Oh, Daddy! Billie's so twisted and queer-and he won't answer when I call him.'

"Poor Dalken had a sudden premonition of catastrophe and rushed into the nursery. He almost collapsed at what he saw there. A strange woman was about to take up the stiff little form and do for it what a loving mother should reverently insist upon doing.

"The father, with a broken heart, took his beloved boy and prepared him for his last resting-place. All through the three days elapsing after the night of Billie's death, Mrs. Dalken remained locked in her boudoir, her maid seeing that the smelling salts were handy whenever her lady called for them. Between the visits of condolence from her intimates, and the fittings of the deep mourning, the mother was kept too busy to meet her husband, or watch with the remains of her baby.

"But after the funeral (that also buried most of Dalken's joy in living) he insisted upon a serious talk with his b.u.t.terfly wife. She promised everything, even to giving up her gambling games, if he would but refrain from the publicity of the cause of Billie's death and the subsequent separation. She used her sharpest weapon to gain her point-Elizabeth.

"So several more months went by, but the poor man was a mere money-machine in his own home. Even his little daughter began to believe that society was everything, and love or home-ties only a necessity that interfered with one's pet pleasures and freedom.

"Without consulting her husband, Mrs. Dalken planned to visit Europe with a party of friends. To keep her grasp on her money-supplier she took Elizabeth with her. A nurse looked after the girl. She remained abroad for more than a year, and when she returned she went directly to a fashionable hotel instead of seeing that her home was reopened in New York.

"She had ordered everything swathed and packed for the time she was abroad, and had left but two rooms livable for the owner and master of the magnificent dwelling.

"Dalken lived there in gloomy sorrow for a few months and finally his friends insisted upon his going to the Club where he could meet cheerful companions and stop brooding over his irreparable loss.

"Mrs. Dalken was in no hurry to reopen her home, and all that Winter she remained at the hotel, while her husband stopped at his club. She allowed him to call upon her two or three times a week, when others were present, and she not only accepted all the checks he offered her, but ran up fearful debts everywhere. He was permitted to take Elizabeth out at certain times, but Mrs. Dalken was clever enough to keep hold on the girl, as she knew it was her only hope of keeping her clutch on her provider.

"Just after the Holidays, that season, she went to Palm Beach, but she entered Elizabeth in a boarding school out of the city. Dalken tried, in many ways, to learn where his child was, but he had no success in his search.

"Then he wired his wife that she must turn over the girl to him while she was running around, or he would instantly stop her income and sue her for desertion. Then she came back to New York and took Elizabeth out of school again, but matters got worse and worse for poor Dalken.

Finally his dear friends, who loved him for what he was and is, persuaded him to sue for a legal separation. They hoped Mrs. Dalken would turn over the girl whom she had no natural love for, to the father, as a hostage.

"But she was a wise woman, by this time. She accepted the separation without demur, but refused to give up Elizabeth. It was then agreed that the girl might choose which one of the parents she preferred to live with. Having had so many years of life with her mother, the girl became like her-selfish, vain, and arrogant. No love or grat.i.tude was found in her character.

"Just at this time, Mr. Dalken was taken very ill, and his mother (who is a dear, you will find, when you meet her) came from England to nurse him. He was ill for more than a year, so Elizabeth chose to remain with her mother for the time being.

"Mrs. Dalken, Senior, took her only child back to England with her, as soon as he could travel, and there she kept him well-nursed and cared for, in her cousin's English country-house, until he had regained his strength and fairly good health. Then mother and son went to the Continent to visit the scenes of the famous battle-fields, and then on to the Riviera for a month.

"The wise mother knew that taking Mr. Dalken's thoughts from his own miserable state, and making him think of other's woes, would the sooner brace him up to face his life-problem. And so it was.

"Elizabeth elected to remain with her frivolous mother but Mr. Dalken supports her handsomely, and often bribes her to spend an afternoon or evening with him, by having a valuable gift awaiting her coming. Mr.

Ashby, and other friends, have advised Dalken against this pernicious way of baiting the inclinations of the girl, but he says they do not know his heart-hunger, and so cannot judge his actions."

"Oh, Mr. Fabian! Our poor, dear Mr. Dalken!" sobbed Polly, when the speaker had ended his story.

"If I ever meet that horrid woman I shall tear her hair out, I know I shall!" wept Eleanor, vehemently.

"If only we could do something, Nolla, to make up to our dear Dalk, for all his sorrow," sighed Polly, drying her eyes.

"You can love him the more for this story, girls, but do not refer to it, as he is still tender over his loss."

CHAPTER XV-THE FOUNDLING

The sad story told the girls, about their friend Mr. Dalken, filled them with love and compa.s.sion for the great-hearted man, and they wondered how they could do _something_ for him that would not only show their appreciation of his kindness to them, but at the same time give him pleasure or happiness. But there seemed no material thing that he needed, and really, nothing that one could do for him.