The Fate of Felix Brand Part 2

"Oh, yes, that case!" said her mother. "It's most curious and interesting--one of the sort that makes you feel creepy."

"Do tell us about it then," exclaimed Ardeen Andrews, farther down the table.

"It's a man possessed by the illusion that his dreams are the real thing and his waking hours are imaginary. Just think what a topsy-turvy state that must keep his family in!"

Felix Brand looked up with sudden interest, but before he could speak a man's voice called out from the other end of the table, "The doctor doesn't consider faith in one's dreams evidence of a pathological state, does he, Mrs. Annister?" It was Robert Moreton, a young author, whose name was of frequent occurrence in magazine tables of contents.

"If he does," Mrs. Moreton broke in, "how crazy he would think you, Rob! You see, when he is writing a story," and she glanced up and down the table, "Robert imagines it's being acted out around him, and I have to be the heroine and the villainess and the parlor maid and the cook and answer to all their names."

"That must give some variety to existence, Mrs. Moreton," said Brand.

"And variety is the best spice for life that I know of."

"Do you know that story of Colonel Higginson's," Moreton went on, "called 'A Monarch of Dreams,' about a man who developed the power of controlling his dreams and became so delighted and absorbed in them that he gave himself up to the life he lived while asleep and allowed his real existence to wither away until it was of no consequence at all to him or any one else? It has always seemed to me a wonderful bit of eerie imagination. And there are such alluring suggestions for experiment in it!"

Felix Brand's brown eyes were fixed in a speculative stare upon the ma.s.s of roses that glowed at the center of the table. Miss Marne, glancing at him, knew that, whether or not he was thinking of them, he was conscious of their beauty in every fibre of his being. "I wonder,"

he said slowly, and she saw Mildred Annister's gaze turn quickly upon him as the girl bent forward with parted lips. "I wonder very, very much," he repeated, "just how much one could do toward making one's dream-people come alive. I mean, toward making the different kind of person one sometimes is in a dream the real person when one is awake.

You know how different you seem sometimes when you are asleep, not at all the same kind of person you are when you are awake. Now, wouldn't it be interesting if you could make yourself be that person sometimes after you wake up? It seems to me it would be a delightful change from being the same person all the time. This being tied fast to yourself year in and year out gets very monotonous."

Miss Annister gave a little gasp and leaned nearer to him, distress in her eyes.

"Don't say that!" she begged, hardly above a whisper. "Don't even think such things! You are you, and I wouldn't have you different for worlds and worlds!"

Her disturbed little appeal was shielded from observation by a vivacious feminine voice which called out simultaneously: "Please finish my house before you turn yourself into anybody else, Mr. Brand!

You know we've only settled on the back porch and one dormer window, so far, and I'll leave it to these good people if that's enough for a family of six to live in!"

Henrietta smiled discreetly at her plate, for she knew along what a tortuous path of inchoate ideas and breezy caprices Mrs. Grahame Fenlow, upon the sightliness of whose new chauffeur she and her sister were basing their hopes of keeping their maid of all work, had led the architect in his attempt to design a new house for her.

"Aren't you afraid, mother," exclaimed Mark Fenlow, from his seat beside Henrietta, "if you don't decide pretty soon whether you want that dormer window in the cellar or the roof and whether the back porch is to be before or behind the house, that Mr. Brand will be driven to try a new personality, or incarnation, or--or drink, or whatever you call it!"

"Why, here's the doctor at last," cried Felix Brand as he rose to greet the newcomer and lead him to his seat at the table.

Dr. Philip Annister, smiling affably at the company, scarcely looked the famous specialist in nerve diseases that he was. Short and slight in physique, his head, when he stood beside his handsome wife, was barely on a level with hers. Wherefore, his shoes, ever since his wedding day, had been noticeably high of heel, and rarely was he known to wear other head covering than a silk hat. He had cast aside the look of abstraction which commonly possessed his thin, pale countenance and his manner and speech of modest geniality soon won for him the favor of all the heterogeneous company to whom he was not already known. His wife noticed that his eyes rested frequently upon their host and later she said to him:

"Felix is looking handsomer than ever tonight, isn't he!"

"Yes, I suppose so," he answered hesitatingly. "But, Margaret, there's an expression growing on his face that I don't like. It's creating a doubt about him in my mind."

"What do you mean? His manner tonight toward all this queer mixture of people has been perfect--cordial, una.s.suming, delicately courteous and friendly toward every one. And, really, Philip, I don't know a handsomer man! His face is so refined, and those brown, caressing eyes of his are enough to turn any girl's head. I don't wonder in the least that Mildred is so completely in love with him. What is it you don't like about his looks, Philip?"

"I don't quite know, and perhaps it isn't fair to him to put it into words until I do know. It is less evident tonight, when he is all animation and his thoughts are full of the entertainment of his guests, than I have seen it sometimes lately. You know, Margaret, Felix has an unusually expressive countenance. It's like a crystal mask, and it's bound to reveal the very shape and color of his soul. I think I begin to see signs in it of selfishness and grossness--"

"Oh, Philip! How can you! Grossness! He's the most refined----"

"You haven't announced Mildred's engagement yet, have you?" her husband interrupted. "I'm glad of that," he went on in a relieved tone as she shook her head, "and I hope you will not for some time."

"Mildred is beginning to look forward rather eagerly to being married," said Mrs. Annister, smiling soberly. "I'm almost afraid she's more in love than he is."

"I'm so glad I came tonight. It has been lovely!" Henrietta Marne at that moment was saying to her host, at the other side of the room.

"You have enjoyed it?" and he bent upon her his brown eyes with their look of caressing indulgence. "I'm glad of that, for I'm afraid you don't have as many enjoyments as a girl ought to have, by right of her youth and beauty and charm."

"I was afraid I ought not to come, because my mother is ill."

"Ah, that Puritan conscience of yours, Miss Marne! Don't be so afraid of it when the question is nothing more than getting some innocent pleasure out of life."

"But one isn't afraid of one's conscience. One just takes counsel of it, or with it."

"Of course! But if one--you, for instance--yielded to it more than its due--and it really is insatiable, you know, if you let it get the upper hand--what a wretched affair life would be! Simply unendurable!"

"But there's always a satisfaction in doing what one ought to do, Mr.

Brand--don't you think so?--even if it is hard."

"Oh, if you like your satisfaction to taste hard and bitter! I don't!

I think it's much better to hold ourselves free to take advantage of all the possibilities of happiness, little and big, that come our way.

It's really a duty that we owe ourselves. And, of course, if we are happy we make others about us happy too. You, I'm sure, need enjoyment so much that it would be a great mistake for you to throw away any opportunity. And I'm very glad you didn't neglect this little one!"

Mrs. Fenlow and her son were at his elbow to say goodnight, and as he shook hands with Mark, whose mother had already pa.s.sed on to an exchange of confidences concerning hairdressers with Miss Ardeen Andrews, he laid his hand affectionately on the young man's shoulder and said in a low tone:

"You're coming tomorrow night, Mark, of course?"

"Sure! D. V. and d. p.--G.o.d willing and the devil permitting!"

"It will be very different from this," and Brand smiled slightly, a winning, deprecating smile, as with the least perceptible motion of his head he indicated the company that filled his s.p.a.cious drawing room. "But a man doesn't want his relaxations to be all alike, any more than he wants all flowers to be of the same color."

CHAPTER IV

BILLIKINS IS FRIGHTENED

It was inevitable that the personality of Felix Brand should loom large in the home of his secretary. Mrs. Marne was a semi-invalid and suffered frequent relapses into more serious illness. The care of her and the management of their little household were Isabella's part, and to these two, much confined at home and by necessity cut off from nearly all outside pleasures and interests, the chief daily event was Henrietta's return from her busy hours and responsible tasks in the architect's office. But, of still more importance, their worldly welfare hung upon the salary which he paid to the younger sister.

Mrs. Marne's husband had been a physician in one of the smaller cities of Ma.s.sachusetts; but, though a New Englander, he had not possessed the characteristic thrift of the sons of that region, and consequently his widow and his daughters found, after his death, that the settlement of his affairs left them a very slender sum of money. It was necessary that one of the young women should become an income earner, and it was decided that Henrietta, since she had a better head for affairs and more liking for business, should take this share of their burden. There was enough money to give her a course in secretarial training in a women's vocational college in Boston and to support them all in economical comfort until she should be ready to begin her work. As she was at once successful in finding a position in New York, they invested the few hundred dollars still left in a first payment upon a little home in Staten Island, and they were now carefully husbanding Henrietta's salary and paying off the remaining debt upon the instalment plan.

It was through Dr. Annister that Henrietta found a good position so quickly. He and Dr. Marne had been cla.s.smates and warm friends during the years of their medical training, and afterward, although one had gone to New York and become one of the famous specialists of his generation and the other had sunk into the obscurity of general practice in a small city, they had kept up their friendship in a desultory way, with occasional meetings at medical conventions and now and then a letter. When Dr. Marne died, a missive came from his friend that seemed so simple and genuine in its feeling that it deeply touched Henrietta, to whom fell the duty of answering it, because of her mother's stricken condition.

The memory of that letter and a warmly reverent feeling for the friendship that had called it forth stayed long in her heart. And at last, when she was ready to try conclusions with the world, and felt sure, with the usual conviction of youth, that it would be much better to go somewhere else to begin, she wrote to Dr. Annister, telling him briefly her plans and hopes and what her training had been. And the famous Dr. Philip Annister interested himself in the daughter of his old friend, and at once found for her a well-paid position as secretary for Felix Brand, his prospective son-in-law. Mrs. Annister also showed much kindly feeling for the girl and often had her stay overnight at their home for a visit to the theatre or the opera.

Between Mildred Annister and Henrietta there existed a friendship which made up in outward warmth what it lacked in depth. For Mildred, with her woman's heart but lately awakened and filled to the brim with absorbed and adoring first love, could not help some secret resentment that any other woman should be anything to her beloved or give him any service. Her good sense told her that this was unreasonable, while her respect and kindly feeling for Henrietta made her ashamed of it.

So she did her best to conceal it and in the effort overdid her expressions of affection. Henrietta would have responded to these with girlish ardor, for she liked Mildred and greatly admired her tall and stately beauty, had she not felt some barrier just below the surface that kept her as reserved, in all the little confidences that usually go on between young women, as was Mildred herself. She did not even know of the semi-engagement, to which Dr. and Mrs. Annister had not yet given their full a.s.sent, that existed between Mildred and Felix Brand, although she felt sure that the girl was whole-heartedly in love with him.

As the weeks went on and autumn merged into winter, Henrietta sometimes noticed a harried look upon her employer's countenance. She wondered much about this, for he was winning success and honors in ample measure. An international committee of artists and architects, sitting in judgment upon the compet.i.tive designs submitted for a memorial building to one of the country's heroes, had announced their decision awarding the prize to Felix Brand. He had been made a member of the munic.i.p.al art advisory commission and a little later a national society of architects had elected him to its presidency. There were private commissions in plenty, enough to keep him and his a.s.sistants busy. And, finally,--and Brand laughingly told his secretary that he considered this the most signal success of his career--Mrs. Fenlow had approved his last design for the country house she purposed to build up the Hudson and had been moved to transports of enthusiasm over its every detail.

In addition to these honors and successes, Henrietta knew that he was making much money outside of his profession; that his operations in stocks were nearly always profitable, that once or twice they had been richly so, and that he had bought a large number of shares in a marble quarry for whose product his designs often called.

So she marveled much within herself that he should so often look careworn and show a furtive anxiety in his eyes and face when he had, or was rapidly winning, almost every good thing that mortals count a source of happiness and when even her intimacy with his affairs did not reveal a solitary cause for distress or uneasiness of mind.