The Great God Success Part 18

"I don't know--perhaps shame."

"Shame--trash! Your life is going to be a fine turmoil if you run to Teddy with an account of every little mild flirtation you happen to have. Of all the imbeciles, the most imbecile is the woman who confesses."

"But how could I marry him when----"

"When you don't love him?"

"No--I might have done that. I like him. But, when I love another man."

"It does make a difference. But you ought to be able to foresee that you'll get over Howard in a few weeks----"

"Precisely what Teddy said."

"Did he? I'm surprised at his having so much sense. For, if you'll forgive me, I don't think Teddy will ever set New York on fire--at least, he's--well, he has the makings of an ideal husband. And has he broken it off?"

"No. He wouldn't have it."

"Really? Well he _is_ in love. Most men in his position--able to get any girl he wants--would have thrown up the whole business. Yes, he must be awfully in love."

"Do you think that?" Marian's voice spoke distress but she felt only satisfaction. "Oh, I hope not--that is, I'd like to think he cared a great deal and at the same time I don't want to hurt him."

"Don't fret yourself about these two men. Just go on thinking as you please. You'll be surprised how soon Howard will fade." Mrs. Carnarvon smiled satirically at some thought--perhaps a memory. "You're a good deal of a goose, my dear, but you are a great deal more of a woman.

That's why I feel sure that Teddy will win."

With such an opportunity--with the field clear and the woman half-remorseful over her treachery, half-indignant at the man who had shown himself so weak and spiritless--a cleverer or a less vain man than Danvers would have triumphed easily. And for the first week he did make progress. He acted upon the theory that Marian had been hypnotized and that the proper treatment was to ignore her delusion and to treat her with a.s.siduous but not annoying consideration. He did not pose as an injured or jealous lover. He was the friend, always at her service, always thinking out plans for her amus.e.m.e.nt. He made no reference to their engagement or to Howard.

Several people of their set were at the hotel and Marian was soon drifting back into her accustomed modes of thought. The wider horizon which she fancied Howard had shown her was growing dim and hazy. The horizon which he had made her think narrow was beginning again to seem the only one. This meant Danvers; but he was not acute enough to understand her and to follow up his advantage.

One morning as he was walking up and down under the palms, waiting for Mrs. Carnarvon and Marian, Mrs. Fortescue called him. She was a cold, rather handsome woman. In her eyes was the expression that always betrays the wife or the mistress who loathes the man she lives with, enduring him only because he gives her that which she most wants--money.

She had one fixed idea--to marry her daughter "well," that is, to money.

"Can you join us to-day, Teddy?" she asked. "We need one more man."

"I'm waiting for Mrs. Carnarvon and Marian," he explained.

"Oh, of course." Mrs. Fortescue smiled. "What a nice girl she is--so clever, so--so independent. I admired her immensely for deciding to marry that poor, obscure young fellow. I like to see the young people romantic."

Danvers flushed angrily and pulled at his mustache. He tried to smile.

"We've teased her about it a good deal," he said, "but she denies it."

"I suppose they aren't ready to announce the engagement yet," Mrs.

Fortescue suggested. "I suppose they are waiting until he betters his position a little. It's never a good idea to have too long a time between the announcement and the marriage."

"Perhaps that is it." Danvers tried to look indifferent but his eyes were sullen with jealousy.

"I always rather thought that you and Marian were going to make a match of it," continued Mrs. Fortescue. Just then her daughter came down the walk. She was fashionably dressed in white and blue that brought out all the loveliness of her golden hair and violet eyes and faintly-coloured, smooth fair skin. Danvers had not seen her since she "came out," and was dazzled by her radiance.

They say that every man must be a little in love with every pretty woman he sees. And Danvers at once gave Ellen Fortescue her due. She sat silent beside her mother, looking the personification of innocence, purity and poetry. Her mother continued subtly to poison Danvers against Marian, to make him feel that she had not appreciated him, that she had trifled with him, that she had not treated him as his dignity and importance merited. When she and Mrs. Carnarvon appeared, he joined them tardily, after having made an arrangement with the Fortescues for the next day.

That evening he danced several times with Ellen Fortescue and adopted the familiar lover's tactics--he set about making Marian jealous. He scored the customary success. When she went to bed she lay for several hours looking out into the moonlight, raging against the Fortescues and against Danvers. The mere fact that a man whom she regarded as hers was permitting himself to show marked attention to another woman would have been sufficient. But in addition, Marian was perfectly aware of the material advantages of this particular man. She did not want to marry him; at least she was of that mind at the moment. But she might change her mind. Certainly, if there was to be any breaking off, she wished it to be of her doing. She did not fancy the idea of him departing joyfully.

She was far too wise to show that she saw what was going on. She praised Miss Fortescue to Danvers with apparent frankness and insisted on him devoting more time to her. Danvers persisted in his scheme boldly for a week and then, just as Marian was despairing and was casting about for another plan of campaign, he gave in. They were sitting apart in the shadow near one of the windows of the ball-room. He had been sullen all the evening, almost rude.

"How much longer are you going to keep me in suspense?" he burst out angrily.

"In suspense?"

"You know what I mean. I think I've been very patient."

"You mean our engagement?" Marian was looking at him, repelled by his expression, his manner, the tone of his voice, his whole mood.

"Yes--I want your decision."

"I have not changed."

"You still love that--that newspaper fellow?"

"No, I don't mean that." Marian felt her irritation against Danvers suddenly vanish and in its place a Sense of relief and of calmness. "I mean toward you. It won't do, Teddy. We shall get on well as friends.

But I can't think of you in--in that way."

Mrs. Fortescue had so swollen his vanity that he was astounded at Marian's decision. He rapidly went over in his mind all the advantages he offered as a husband, and then looked at her as if he thought her beside herself.

"Look here, Marian," he protested. "You can't mean it. Why, it's all settled that we are to marry. It would be madness for you to break it off. I can give you everything--everything. And he can't give you anything." Then with fatal tactlessness: "He won't even give you the little that he can, according to your own story."

"Yes, it's madness, isn't it, Teddy, to refuse you--fascinating you, who can give everything. But that's just it. You have too much. You overwhelm me. I should feel like a cheat, taking so much and giving so little."

"Don't," he begged, his self-complacence and superiority all gone.

"Don't mind my blundering, please, dear. I want you. I can't say it. I haven't any gift of words. But you've known me all my life and you know that I love you. I've set my heart on it, Mary Ann,"--it was the name he used to tease her with when they were children playing together--"You won't go back on me now, will you?"

"I wish I could do as you wish, Teddy." Marian was forgetful of everything but the unhappiness she was causing this friend of so many, many years and of so many, many memories. "But I can't--I can't."

"Marry me, dear, anyhow. You will care afterward." Marian was silent and Danvers hoped. "You know all about me. I'll not give you any surprises.

I shan't bother you. And I'll make you happy."

"No," she said firmly. "You mustn't ask it. I'll tell you why. I have thought of marrying you regardless of this. Only last night I thought of it--finally, went over the whole thing. Listen, Teddy--if I were married to you--and if he should come--and he would come sooner or later--if he should come and say 'Come with me,'--I'd go--yes, I'm sure I'd go.

I can't explain why. But I know that nothing would stand in the way--nothing."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself." Marian shrank from him. She was horrified by the malignant fury that sparkled in his eyes and raged in his voice. "That d.a.m.ned scoundrel is worthy of you and you of him. But I'll get you yet. I never was crossed in anything in my life and I'll not be beaten here."

"And I thought you were my friend!" Marian was looking at him, pale, her eyes wide with amazement. "Is it really you?"

He laughed insolently. "Yes--you'll see. And he'll see. I'll crush him as if he were an egg sh.e.l.l. And as for you--you perjurer--you liar!"

He looked at her with coa.r.s.e contempt, rose and stalked away. Marian sat rigid. She was conscious of the insult. But even that humiliation was not so strong in her mind as the astounding revelation of Danvers. She remembered that even as his eyes blazed hatred at her, he looked at her, at her neck, her bare arms, with the baffled desire of brute pa.s.sion.

She did not fully understand the look, but she felt that it was a degradation far greater than his insulting words.

She slipped, almost skulked to her room, her eyes down, her face in a burning flush, her scarf drawn tightly about her neck. As her door closed behind her, she fell upon her bed and began to sob hysterically.

She started up with a scream to find her cousin standing beside her.