Unleavened Bread Part 13

Naturally one of her chief desires was to be on loving terms with her brother's wife, and to do everything in her power to add to Selma's happiness. She summoned her women friends to meet her sister-in-law at afternoon tea. All of these called on the bride, and some of them invited her to their houses. They were busy women like Pauline herself, intent in their several ways on their vocations or avocations. They were disposed to extend the right hand of fellowship to Mrs. Littleton, whom they without exception regarded as interesting in appearance, but they had no leisure for immediate intimacy with her. Having been introduced to her and having scheduled her in their minds as a new and desirable acquaintance, they went their ways, trusting chiefly to time to renew the meeting and to supply the evidence as to the stranger's social value. Busy people in a large city are obliged to argue that new-comers should win their spurs, and that great minds, valuable opinions, and moving social graces are never crushed by inhumanity, but are certain sooner or later to gain recognition. Therefore after being very cordial and expressing the hope of seeing more of her in the future, every one departed and left Selma to her duties and her opportunities as Littleton's wife, without having the courtesy to indicate that they considered her a superior woman.

Pauline regarded this behavior on the part of her friends as normal, and having done her social duty in the afternoon tea line, without a suspicion that Selma was disappointed by the experience, she gave herself up to the congenial undertaking of becoming intimate with her sister-in-law. She ascribed Selma's reserve, and cold, serious manner partly to shyness due to her new surroundings, and partly to the spiritual rigor of the puritan conscience and point of view. She had often been told that individuals of this temperament possessed more depth of character than more emotional and socially facile people, and she was prepared to woo. In comparison with Wilbur, Pauline was accustomed to regard herself as a practical and easy-going soul, but she was essentially a woman of fine and vigorous moral and mental purpose.

Like many of her a.s.sociates in active life, however, she had become too occupied with concrete possibilities to be able to give much thought to her own soul anatomy, and she was glad to look up to her brother's wife as a spiritual superior and to recognize that the burden lay on herself to demonstrate her own worthiness to be admitted to close intimacy on equal terms. Wilbur was to her a creature of light, and she had no doubt that his wife was of the same ethereal composition.

Pauline was glad, too, of the opportunity really to know a countrywoman of a type so different from her own friends. She, like Wilbur, had heard all her life of these interesting and inspiring beings; intense, marvellously capable, peerless, free-born creatures panoplied in chast.i.ty and endowed with congenital mental power and bodily charms, who were able to cook, educate children, control society and write literature in the course of the day's employment. The newspapers and popular opinion had given her to understand that these were the true Americans, and caused her to ask herself whether the circle to which she herself belonged was not retrograde from a n.o.bler ideal. In what way she did not precisely understand, except that she and her friends did not altogether disdain nice social usages and conventional womanly ways.

But, nevertheless, the impression had remained in her mind that she must be at fault somehow, and it interested her that she would now be able to understand wherein she was inferior.

She went to see Selma as often as she could, and encouraged her to call at her lodgings on the mornings when she was at home, expecting that it might please her sister-in-law to become familiar with the budding educational enterprises, and that thus a fresh bond of sympathy would be established between them. Selma presented herself three or four times in the course of the next three months, and on the first occasion expressed gratifying appreciation of the cosiness of the new lodgings.

"I almost envy you," she said, "your freedom to live your own life and do just what you like. It must be delightful away up here where you can see over the tops of the houses and almost touch the sky, and there is no one to disturb the current of your thoughts. It must be a glorious place to work and write. I shall ask you to let me come up here sometimes when I wish to be alone with my own ideas."

"As often as you like. You shall have a pa.s.s key."

"I should think," said Selma, continuing to gaze, with her far away look, over the vista of roofs which the top story of the apartment house commanded, "that you would be a great deal happier than if you had married him."

The pause which ensued caused her to look round, and add jauntily, "I have heard, you know, about Dr. Page."

A wave of crimson spread over Pauline's face--the crimson of wounded surprise, which froze Selma's genial intentions to the core.

"I didn't think you'd mind talking about it," she said stiffly.

"There's nothing to talk about. Since you have mentioned it, Dr. Page is a dear friend of mine, and will always continue to be, I hope."

"Oh, I knew you were nothing but friends now," Selma answered. She felt wounded in her turn. She had come with the wish to be gracious and companionable, and it had seemed to her a happy thought to congratulate Pauline on the wisdom of her decision. She did not like people who were not ready to be communicative and discuss their intimate concerns.

The episode impaired the success of the first morning visit. At the next, which occurred a fortnight later, Pauline announced that she had a piece of interesting news.

"Do you know a Mr. Joel Flagg in Benham?"

"I know who he is," said Selma. "I have met his daughter."

"It seems he has made a fortune in oil and real estate, and is desirous to build a college for women in memory of his mother, Sarah Wetmore. One of my friends has just received a letter from a Mrs. Hallett Taylor, to whom Mr. Flagg appears to have applied for counsel, and who wishes some of us who are interested in educational matters to serve as an advisory committee. Probably you know Mrs. Taylor too?"

"Oh yes. I have been at her house, and I served with her on the committee which awarded Wilbur the church."

"Why, then you are the very person to tell us all about her. I think I remember now having heard Wilbur mention her name."

"Wilbur fancied her, I believe."

"Your tone rather implies that you did not. You must tell me everything you know. My friend has corresponded with her before in regard to some artistic matters, but she has never met her. Her letter suggests a lady."

"I dare say you would like Mrs. Taylor," said Selma, gravely. "She is attractive, I suppose, and seemed to know more or less about European art and pictures, but we in Benham didn't consider her exactly an American. If you really wish to know my opinion, I think that she was too exclusive a person to have fine ideas."

"That's a pity."

"If she lived in New York she would like to be one of those society ladies who live on Fifth Avenue; only she hasn't really any conception of what true elegance is. Her house there, except for the ornaments she had bought abroad, was not so well furnished as the one I lived in. I wonder what she would think if she could look into the drawing-room of my friend Mrs. Williams."

"I see," said Pauline, though in truth she was puzzled. "I am sorry if she is a fine lady, but people like that, when they become interested, are often excellent workers. It is a n.o.ble gift of Mr. Flagg's--$500,000 as a foundation fund. He's a good American at all events. Wilbur must certainly compete for the buildings, and his having first met you there ought to be an inspiration to him to do fine work."

Selma had been glad of the opportunity to criticise Mrs. Hallett Taylor, whom she had learned, by the light of her superior social knowledge, to regard as an unimportant person. Yet she had been conscious of a righteous impulse in saying what she thought of her. She knew that she had never liked Mrs. Taylor, and she was not pleased to hear that Mr.

Flagg had selected her from among the women of Benham to superintend the administration of his splendid gift. Benham had come to seem to her remote and primitive, yet she preferred, and was in the mood, to think that it represented the principles which were dear to her, and that she had been appreciated there far better than in her present sphere. She was still tied to Benham by correspondence with Mrs. Earle. Selma had written at once to explain her sudden departure, and letters pa.s.sed between them at intervals of a few weeks--letters on Selma's part fluent with dazzled metropolitan condescension, yet containing every now and then a stern charge against her new fellow-citizens on the score of levity and worldliness.

The donation for the establishment of Wetmore College was made shortly after another inst.i.tution for the education of women in which Pauline was interested--Everdean College--had been opened to students. The number of applicants for admission to Everdean had been larger than the authorities had antic.i.p.ated, and Pauline, who had been one of the promoters and most active workers in raising funds for and supervising the construction of this labor of love, was jubilant over the outlook, and busy in regard to a variety of new matters presented for solution by the suddenly evolved needs of the situation. Among these was the acquisition of two or three new women instructors; and it occurred to Pauline at once that Selma might know of some desirable candidate. Selma appeared to manifest but little interest in this inquiry at the time, but a few months subsequent to their conversation in regard to Mrs.

Taylor she presented herself at Pauline's rooms one morning with the announcement that she had found some one. Pauline, who was busy at her desk, asked permission to finish a letter before listening; so there was silence for a few minutes, and Selma, who wore a new costume of a more fashionable guise than her last, reflected while she waited that the details of such work as occupied her sister-in-law must be tedious.

Indeed, she had begun to entertain of late a sort of contempt for the deliberate, delving processes of the Littletons. She was inclined to ask herself if Wilbur and Pauline were not both plodders. Her own idea of doing things was to do them quickly and brilliantly, arriving at conclusions, as became an American, with prompt energy and despatch. It seemed to her that Wilbur, in his work, was slow and elaborate, disposed to hesitate and refine instead of producing boldly and immediately. And his sister, with her studies and letter-writing, suggested the same wearisome tendency. Why should not Wilbur, in his line, act with the confident enterprise and capacity to produce immediate, ostensible results which their neighbor, Gregory Williams, displayed? As for Pauline, of course she had not Wilbur's talent and could not, perhaps, be expected to shine conspicuously, but surely she might make more of herself if only she would cease to spend so much time in details and cogitation, with nothing tangible to show for her labor. Selma remembered her own experience as a small school teacher, and her thankfulness at her escape from a petty task unworthy of her capabilities, and she smiled scornfully to herself, as she sat waiting, at what she regarded Pauline's willingness to spend her energies in such inconspicuous, self-effacing work. Indeed, when Pauline had finished her letter and announced that she was now entirely at leisure, Selma felt impelled to remark:

"I should think, Pauline, that you would give a course of lectures on education. We should be glad to have them at our house, and your friends ought to be able to dispose of a great many tickets." Such a thing had never occurred to Selma until this moment, but it seemed to her, as she heard her own words, a brilliant suggestion, both as a step forward for Pauline and a social opportunity for herself.

"On education? My dear Selma, you have no idea of the depths of my ignorance. Education is an enormous subject, and I am just beginning to realize how little I know concerning it. People have talked and written about education enough. What we need and what some of us are trying to do is to study statistics and observe results. I am very much obliged to you, but I should only make myself a laughing-stock."

"I don't think you would. You have spent a great deal of time in learning about education, and you must have interesting things to say.

You are too modest and--don't you think it may be that you are not quite enterprising enough? A course of lectures would call public attention to you, and you would get ahead faster, perhaps. I think that you and Wilbur are both inclined to hide your light under a bushel. It seems to me that one can be conscientious and live up to one's ideals without neglecting one's opportunities."

"The difficulty is," said Pauline, with a laugh, "that I shouldn't regard it as an opportunity, and I am sure it wouldn't help me to get ahead, as you call it, with the people I desire to impress, to give afternoon tea or women-club lectures. I don't know enough to lecture effectively. As to enterprise, I am busy from morning until night. What more can a woman do? You mustn't hurry Wilbur, Selma. All he needs is time to let the world see his light."

"Very likely. Of course, if you don't consider that you know enough there is nothing to be said. I thought of it because I used to lecture in Benham, at the Benham Inst.i.tute, and I am sure it helped me to get ahead. I used to think a great deal about educational matters, and perhaps I will set you the example by giving some lectures myself."

"That would be very interesting. If a person has new ideas and has confidence in them, it is natural to wish to let the world hear them."

Pauline spoke amiably, but she was disposed to regard her sister with more critical eyes. She felt no annoyance at the patronizing tone toward herself, but the reference to Wilbur made her blood rebel. Still she could not bear to harbor distrust against that grave face with its delicate beauty and spiritualized air, which was becomingly accommodated to metropolitan conditions by a more festive bonnet than any which she herself owned. Yet she noticed that the thin lips had an expression of discontent, and she wondered why.

Recurring to the errand on which she had come, Selma explained that she had just received a letter from Benham--from her friend, Mrs. Margaret Rodney Earle, an auth.o.r.ess and a promulgator of advanced and original ideas in respect to the cause of womanhood, asking if she happened to know of an opening for a gifted young lady in any branch of intellectual work.

"I thought at once of Everdean," said Selma, "and have come to give you the opportunity of securing her."

Pauline expressed her thanks cordially, and inquired if Mrs. Earle had referred to the candidate's experience or special fitness for the duties of the position.

"She writes that she is very clever and gifted. I did not bring the letter with me, but I think Mrs. Earle's language was that Miss Bailey will perform brilliantly any duties which may be intrusted to her."

"That is rather general," said Pauline. "I am sorry that she didn't specify what Miss Bailey's education has been, and whether she has taught elsewhere."

"Mrs. Earle wouldn't have recommended her if she hadn't felt sure that she was well educated. I remember seeing her at the Benham Inst.i.tute on one of the last occasions when I was present. She delivered a whistling solo which every one thought clever and melodious."

"I dare say she is just the person we are looking for," said Pauline, leniently. "It happens that Mrs. Grainger--my friend to whom Mrs. Taylor wrote concerning Mr. Flagg's gift--is to make Mrs. Taylor a visit at Benham next week, in order to consider the steps to be taken in regard to Wetmore College. She and Miss Bailey can arrange to meet, and that will save Miss Bailey the expense of a journey to New York, at the possible risk of disappointment."

"I thought," said Selma, "that you would consider yourselves fortunate to secure her services."

"I dare say we shall be very fortunate, Selma. But we cannot engage her without seeing her and testing her qualifications."

Selma made no further demur at the delay, but she was obviously surprised and piqued that her offer should be treated in this elaborate fashion. She was obliged to acknowledge to herself that she could not reasonably expect Pauline to make a definite decision without further inquiry, but she had expected to be able to report to Mrs. Earle that the matter was as good as settled--that, if Miss Bailey would give a few particulars as to her accomplishments, the position would be hers.

Surely she and Mrs. Earle were qualified to choose a school-teacher.

Here was another instance of the Littleton tendency to waste time on unimportant details. She reasoned that a woman with more wide-awake perceptions would have recognized the opportunity as unusual, and would have snapped up Miss Bailey on the spot.

The sequel was more serious. Neither Selma nor Pauline spoke of the matter for a month. Then it was broached by Pauline, who wrote a few lines to the effect that she was sorry to report that the authorities of Everdean, after investigation, had concluded not to engage the services of Miss Bailey as instructor. When Selma read the note her cheeks burned with resentment. She regarded the decision as an affront. Pauline dined with them on the evening of that day, and at table Selma was cold and formal. When the two women were alone, Selma said at once, with an attempt at calmness:

"What fault do you find with my candidate?"

"I think it possible that she might have been satisfactory from the mere point of scholarship," judicially answered Pauline, who did not realize in the least that her sister-in-law was offended, "though Mrs. Grainger stopped short of close inquiry on that score, for the reason that Miss Bailey failed to satisfy our requirements in another respect. I don't wish to imply by what I am going to say anything against her character, or her capacity for usefulness as a teacher under certain conditions, but I confide to you frankly, Selma, that we make it an absolute condition in the choice of instructors for our students that they should be first of all lady-like in thought and speech, and here it was that she fell short. Of course I have never seen Miss Bailey, but Mrs.

Grainger reported that she was--er--impossible."