The Man Between Part 23

"She has told me all there is to tell, I dare say," answered Madam.

"Well, mother, what do you think?"

"I see no harm in it yet awhile. It is not fair, Edward, to condemn upon likelihoods. We are no saints, sinful men and women, all of us, and as much inclined to forbidden fruit as any good Christians can be. Ethel can do as she feels about it; she's got a mind of her own, and I hope to goodness she'll not let Ruth Bayard bit and bridle it."

Going home the Judge evidently pondered this question, for he said after a lengthy silence, "Grandmother's ethics do not always fit the social ethics of this day, Ethel. She criticises people with her heart, not her intellect. You must be prudent. There is a remarkable thing called Respectability to be reckoned with remember that."

And Ethel answered, "No one need worry about Dora. Some women may show the edges of their character soiled and ragged, but Dora will be sure to have hers reputably finished with a hem of the widest propriety."

And after a short silence the Judge added, almost in soliloquy, "And, moreover, Ethel,

"'There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.'"

PART FOURTH -- THE REAPING OF THE SOWING

CHAPTER X

WHEN Ethel and Tyrrel parted at the steamer they did not expect a long separation, but Colonel Rawdon never recovered his health, and for many excellent reasons Tyrrel could not leave the dying man. Nor did Ethel wish him to do so. Under these circ.u.mstances began the second beautiful phase of Ethel's wooing, a sweet, daily correspondence, the best of all preparations for matrimonial oneness and understanding. Looking for Tyrrel's letters, reading them, and answering them pa.s.sed many happy hours, for to both it was an absolute necessity to a.s.sure each other constantly,

"Since I wrote thee yester eve I do love thee, Love, believe, Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer, One dream deeper one night stronger, One sun surer--this much more Than I loved thee, dear, before."

And for the rest, she took up her old life with a fresh enthusiasm.

Among these interests none were more urgent in their claims than Dora Stanhope; and fortified by her grandmother's opinion, Ethel went at once to call on her. She found Basil with his wife, and his efforts to make Ethel see how much he expected from her influence, and yet at the same time not even hint a disapproval of Dora, were almost pathetic, for he was so void of sophistry that his innuendoes were flagrantly open to detection. Dora felt a contempt for them, and he had hardly left the room ere she said:

"Basil has gone to his vestry in high spirits. When I told him you were coming to see me to-day he smiled like an angel. He believes you will keep me out of mischief, and he feels a grand confidence in something which he calls 'your influence.'"

"What do you mean by mischief?"

"Oh, I suppose going about with Fred Mostyn. I can't help that. I must have some one to look after me. All the young men I used to know pa.s.s me now with a lifted hat or a word or two. The girls have forgotten me. I don't suppose I shall be asked to a single dance this winter."

"The ladies in St. Jude's church would make a pet of you if----"

"The old cats and kittens! No, thank you, I am not going to church except on Sunday mornings--that is respectable and right; but as to being the pet of St. Jude's ladies! No, no! How they would mew over my delinquencies, and what scratches I should get from their velvet-shod claws! If I have to be talked about, I prefer the ladies of the world to discuss my frailties."

"But if I were you, I would give no one a reason for saying a word against me. Why should you?"

"Fred will supply them with reasons. I can't keep the man away from me.

I don't believe I want to--he is very nice and useful."

"You are talking nonsense, things you don't mean, Dora. You are not such a foolish woman as to like to be seen with Fred Mostyn, that little monocular sn.o.b, after the aristocratic, handsome Basil Stanhope. The comparison is a mockery. Basil is the finest gentleman I ever saw.

Socially, he is perfection, and----"

"He is only a clergyman."

"Even as a clergyman he is of religiously royal descent. There are generations of clergymen behind him, and he is a prince in the pulpit.

Every man that knows him gives him the highest respect, every woman thinks you the most fortunate of wives. No one cares for Fred Mostyn.

Even in his native place he is held in contempt. He had nine hundred votes to young Rawdon's twelve thousand."

"I don't mind that. I am going to the matinee to-morrow with Fred. He wanted to take me out in his auto this afternoon, but when I said I would go if you would he drew back. What is the reason? Did he make you offer of his hand? Did you refuse it?"

"He never made me an offer. I count that to myself as a great compliment. If he had done such a thing, he would certainly have been refused."

"I can tell that he really hates you. What dirty trick did you serve him about Rawdon Court?"

"So he called the release of Squire Rawdon a 'dirty trick'? It would have been a very dirty trick to have let Fred Mostyn get his way with Squire Rawdon."

"Of course, Ethel, when a man lends his money as an obligation he expects to get it back again."

"Mostyn got every farthing due him, and he wanted one of the finest manors in Eng-land in return for the obligation. He did not get it, thank G.o.d and my father!"

"He will not forget your father's interference."

"I hope he will remember it."

"Do you know who furnished the money to pay Fred? He says he is sure your father did not have it."

"Tell him to ask my father. He might even ask your father. Whether my father had the money or not was immaterial. Father could borrow any sum he wanted, I think."

"Whom did he borrow from?"

"I am sure that Fred told you to ask that question. Is he writing to you, Dora?"

"Suppose he is?"

"I cannot suppose such a thing. It is too impossible."

This was the beginning of a series of events all more or less qualified to bring about unspeakable misery in Basil's home. But there is nothing in life like the marriage tie. The tugs it will bear and not break, the wrongs it will look over, the chronic misunderstandings it will forgive, make it one of the mysteries of humanity. It was not in a day or a week that Basil Stanhope's dream of love and home was shattered. Dora had frequent and then less frequent times of return to her better self; and every such time renewed her husband's hope that she was merely pa.s.sing through a period of transition and a.s.similation, and that in the end she would be all his desire hoped for.

But Ethel saw what he did not see, that Mostyn was gradually inspiring her with his own opinions, perhaps even with his own pa.s.sion. In this emergency, however, she was gratified to find that Dora's mother appeared to have grasped the situation. For if Dora went to the theater with Mostyn, Mrs. Denning or Bryce was also there; and the reckless auto driving, shopping, and lunching had at least a show of respectable a.s.sociation. Yet when the opera season opened, the constant companionship of Mostyn and Dora became entirely too remarkable, not only in the public estimation, but in Basil's miserable conception of his own wrong. The young husband used every art and persuasion--and failed. And his failure was too apparent to be slighted. He became feverish and nervous, and his friends read his misery in eyes heavy with unshed tears, and in the wasting pallor caused by his sleepless, sorrowful nights.

Dora also showed signs of the change so rapidly working on her. She was sullen and pa.s.sionate by turns; she complained bitterly to Ethel that her youth and beauty had been wasted; that she was only nineteen, and her life was over. She wanted to go to Paris, to get away from New York anywhere and anyhow. She began to dislike even the presence of Basil.

His stately beauty offended her, his low, calm voice was the very keynote of irritation.

One morning near Christmas he came to her with a smiling, radiant face.

"Dora," he said, "Dora, my love, I have something so interesting to tell you. Mrs. Colby and Mrs. Schaffler and some other ladies have a beautiful idea. They wish to give all the children of the church under eight years old the grandest Christmas tree imaginable--really rich presents and they thought you might like to have it here."

"What do you say, Basil!"

"You were always so fond of children. You----"

"I never could endure them."

"We all thought you might enjoy it. Indeed, I was so sure that I promised for you. It will be such a pleasure to me also, dear."