Vision House Part 28

"Garth has used the power he holds to the uttermost, and no entreaties on the part of author or manager have moved him. Marise is to give up the part of Dolores in a fortnight, and Susanne Neville begins rehearsing to-morrow! Poor Sheridan, poor Belloc! Poor _play_! Poor _public_! My daughter is immediately after to start for the West with her 'husband'--and maid! I wished to be of the party, but Garth brutally inquired if 'that sort of thing was done in the smart set'--mothers-in-law accompanying bridal pairs on their honeymoon? If I wanted gossip, there would be a good way to get it, he said. He is continually throwing gossip in our faces, whenever we propose anything he doesn't like!

"After a most exhausting (to _me_) argument, it was settled that I should remain in New York for a few days after their departure, and that I should then leave also, going straight on to Los Angeles. There I will open beautiful Bell Towers, and see that all is ready for your advent, with the invalid. Meanwhile Marise is to visit some sort of female named Mooney, an adopted mother of Garth. She lives near a town called Albuquerque, which if I don't forget is in New Mexico. You can perhaps look it up on the map. Garth appears to have cause for grat.i.tude to this woman, who is an elderly widow. He has spent some years (I don't know how many, and do not care!) in that State and the neighbouring one of Arizona; and I gather from one or two words he let drop that he gave Mrs. Mooney the house she now owns. In any case, he said he _must_ pay her a visit, not having seen her since the time when he joined the British forces at the beginning of the war. And if _he_ went, his wife would have to go with him!

"The man evidently expected that Marise would object; but in the circ.u.mstances the idea seemed quite a _good_ one! You see _why_, of course, dear Tony? This old woman will be an extra chaperon for our girl, whose wild impulsiveness has brought so much worry and trouble to us all. Garth cannot make scenes before his foster-mother, for the very shame of it!

"After a short visit there, he will take Marise and Celine to his own place: and you may be sure I shall not be long in joining my child, to give her my protection!

"Do, my dear son-to-be, hurry on your marriage. You must cable me the moment you get this, when you are likely to arrive, addressing me here, where I shall still be at that time. All our difficulties will end when you are able to hand Garth the million dollars. (I _quite_ understand it would be imprudent to send a cheque or a letter to him. Who knows what desperate thing he might do when he had got the money?) The one safe thing will be a _conversation_, and the money in bonds. Then, as you suggested, you can dictate a doc.u.ment for Garth to sign, compromising to _him_ but not to you. You can also dictate terms--as you would have done from the first, if Marise had not tried to punish you--by punishing _herself_! But oh, let it be soon--soon! The strain is telling upon my nerves--and no doubt the nerves of Marise, though she is singularly reserved with me, I regret to say--one would almost think _sulky_, poor child!

"I can't express the pain it gives me to upset you with all these anxieties. But I dared not keep silence, lest you should learn of this journey West, and so on, through some garbled story in the newspapers.

You might then think the _worst_; whereas now, you are in the secret of your dear girl's _safety_. No harm will come to her: and thank goodness there will be no t.i.ttle-tattle to rouse Mr. Ionides's suspicions!

"I presume you will marry your cousin by special licence, so as to hurry things on; and I comfort myself by thinking that before many days all will be _en train_. Perhaps in a fortnight after you reach England you will be arranging to leave again for the benefit of the invalid's health. California is the most wonderful place in the world for a cure.

But, of course, the poor OEnone is incurable, and is not likely to be with you on this earth for more than a year or two at worst--I mean, at most.

"When you have settled with Garth, he will have no further excuse to a.s.sert himself. I shall find a house near Bell Towers, and Marise will come to me. The time of waiting for happiness will pa.s.s in the consolation of warm platonic friendship and lovely surroundings. An excuse can be found for Marise's divorce; and Garth will pa.s.s out of our lives for ever!

"Now I have explained everything as well as I can, and I shall add items of interest each day until time comes for posting my letter. _Au revoir_, dear Tony! Yours, M. S.--the initials you love!"

CHAPTER XXV

"SOME DAY--SOME WAY--SOMEHOW!"

If Zelie Marks had been a malicious girl she could, with a few words through the telephone or on paper, have spoiled at a stroke such few chances of happiness as remained to Garth.

The man was completely, almost ludicrously in her power; and Zelie didn't flatter herself that what he had done was done entirely because of trust in her. He _did_ trust her, of course. But as the girl set forth to carry out his wishes, she realised that he had turned to her as much through a man's blindness as through perfect faith in her unfailing friendship.

Friendship! She laughed a little at the word, travelling westward in the luxurious stateroom for which Garth had paid. What a dear fool he was!

But all men were like that. When they fell head over heels in love with one woman, they never bothered to a.n.a.lyse the feelings of any other female thing on earth!

Yes, that was about all she was in his eyes--a female thing! He had been in desperate need of help, and she happened to be the one creature who could give the kind he wanted.

Some girls would have refused, she thought. Others would have accepted, and then--behaved like cats. Even she had longed to behave like a cat when she talked to his "wife" through the telephone. "If Marise Sorel dreamed of what he's asked me to do, not one of the things he hopes for could ever by any possibility come to pa.s.s," Zelie reminded herself, as she gazed without seeing it at the flying landscape. "Not that they ever will come to pa.s.s anyhow. But it shan't be _my_ fault that he's disappointed."

Miss Marks honestly believed that she was unselfish in her service; yet something far down in the depths of her prayed to gain a reward for it in the far, far future.

The one thing which seemed certain about this wild marriage was, that it wouldn't last. Sooner or later--probably sooner!--there'd be a divorce.

Then, maybe, Jack Garth would remember what his pal Zelie Marks had done for him. He'd turn to her for comfort as now he turned for help.

Love--real love--was sometimes born in such ways: and Zelie didn't for an instant let herself think that Garth's love for Marise Sorel was _real_. It was infatuation, and was bound to pa.s.s when he found out what a vain, self-centred girl his idol was; whereas Zelie Marks had been loyally his chum for years.

Zelie had loved Garth long before the war, when she knew him in Albuquerque. She was learning stenography then, after her father died, and when there was no one for her to live with except an aunt. The aunt was quite a good aunt, and a friend of Mrs. Mooney--Jack's "Mothereen"; but Zelie had wanted to be independent. Jack and Mothereen had been kind to the girl; and when Jack began building a house near his beloved Grand Canyon, for a little while Zelie had tremblingly prayed that it was meant for her to live in. Later, she had begun to lose hope, but not wholly. And then the war had broken out in Europe. Almost at once Garth had dashed over to England and offered his services, on the plea that his father, a Yorkshire man, had never been naturalised as an American.

Zelie couldn't rest in Albuquerque after that. She went east, and would quietly have slipped away after Garth to Europe as a Red Cross nurse if she hadn't been afraid he would suspect why she followed. Instead, she stopped in New York, and got work as a stenographer with a firm of engineers, thanks to an introduction from Jack. When America flung herself into the war-furnace too, Zelie Marks did train as a nurse: but in little more than a year came the Armistice, and the girl reluctantly took up her old profession again.

Now, she loved Major Garth, V.C., a hundred times more than she had loved Jack Garth, the smart young inventor. Yet here she was on the way to Arizona, where she had promised to go and get his house (that house she had once thought might be hers!) ready to receive another woman!

When he had come to her flat early in the morning and told her what he wanted done to "surprise Marise," she had made him some hot coffee, and agreed to everything.

"Yes, Jack," she said, "I'll do it, and your wife shall never know, unless you tell her yourself. And I advise you not to do that, because if you drop the least hint, she'll hate the house and me, and be angry with you. Any girl _would_! I'm not blaming her. She shall think that your house was just waiting, in apple-pie order, her room and all: or else--yes, _that_ would be best!--she shall think Mothereen did the whole business. Of course, that's what you'd want Mothereen to do, and what she'd want to do, if she were strong enough for the task. But as it is, she shall work just enough, so that she won't have to _fib_--no hard work to tire her out. She'll love to go to the Canyon with me--the dear Mothereen!--and she'll have the time of her life."

So that was Zelie Marks' secret errand. She was to travel straight through to Kansas City, by the Santa Fe "Limited." There she was to pause in her journey and purchase a list of things which had never been supplied for Garth's new house, finished only a short time before the war: beautiful silver, crystal and fine linen, and the decorations for a room worthy of a bride like Marise. Kansas City was a big enough town to provide these things, Garth thought; and as it was many hours nearer the Grand Canyon than was Chicago, Zelie's purchases would reach their destination sooner than if she shopped there.

Garth had to leave much to Zelie's taste, but his advice, "Try to think what _she_ would like," had hurt. Zelie was to have all the trouble and pain, yet must strive to please Marise Sorel, not herself. And poor old Zelie was never to get any credit for the sacrifice!

Of course, she _had_ got something. She had got Jack's thanks in advance. He had said, "You're a brick, Zelie! The finest girl there is.

I shall never forget what you're doing for me." And she had got the most marvellous jewels she'd ever seen except at the opera or at Tiffany's.

But she didn't count them as possessions. She knew they had been refused by Marise (Jack put it casually, "Stuff didn't make a hit there. I hope it will with you!"), and Zelie had no intention of keeping Mrs. Garth's cast-off finery. Just what she would eventually do with what Jack called the "stuff," she hadn't made up her mind: but the girl felt confident of an inspiration.

She had also got money for the trip West, and back, with travel _de luxe_. She didn't mind accepting that, as she was doing an immense favour for Jack, which n.o.body else could or would do. And she didn't mind his paying an "understudy" to look after her work at the Belmore till she should return. But she had refused nearly half the money which Jack had pressed upon her. She simply "wouldn't have it!" she'd insisted. He had been forced to yield, or vex her: but he had probably said within himself, "Anyhow, she's got the jewels!"

How little he knew her, if he could think that!... And so, after all, the thanks were the biggest part of her reward.

Tears smarted under Zelie's eyelids now and then, as she thought of these things while the train whirled her westward: how loyal she was to her pal, and was going to be in spite of every temptation; how little Marise deserved the worship lavished upon her; and how much more good it would do Jack to give his love in another quarter!

"All the same, I'll do my very, very best," the girl repeated. "I won't tell Mothereen a single _one_ of the horrid things I think about the bride. I'll paint her in glowing colours. I'll try and make the house a dream of beauty, no matter how hard I work. I'll warn Mothereen not to mention my name, though I'd _love_ to have her blurt it out! But some day--and some way--I'll somehow get even with Marise Sorel for all she's made me suffer. And made _Jack_ suffer!"

CHAPTER XXVI

THE END OF THE JOURNEY

Marise knew as little as possible of her own country. Her early memories wavered between New York when things went well, and Brooklyn or even Jersey City when the family luck was out. Her first experiences on the stage had given her small parts in New York. Mums had refused fairly good chances for the pretty girl, rather than let her go "on the road."

Then had come the great and bewildering success as "Dolores," which had kept the young star playing at one theatre until mother and daughter transplanted themselves to England. This "wedding trip" with Garth was the first long journey that Marise had ever made in her native land.

It was the most extraordinary thing which had ever happened, to be travelling with Garth--except being married to him! And, after the first twenty-four hours of "Mrs. John Garthhood," she had not felt "married"

at all, during the fortnight which followed the wedding.

For one thing, she had been desperately busy preparing to leave the stage "for good." There were so many people to see! And the person of whom she had seen least was her husband. He, too, appeared to be busy about his own affairs, and Marise was rather surprised to discover how many men (his acquaintances were nearly all men, and men of importance) he knew in New York.

Every night he took her to the theatre, and returned to escort her home in the car he had so extravagantly hired. That was in the _role_ of adoring bridegroom which he had engaged himself to play! But apart from luncheons and dinners eaten with wife and mother-in-law on show in public places, these were the only occasions when they met and talked together. At night, though Marise still stuck to the bargain and occupied her room in the "bridal suite," she never knew when Garth entered his quarters next door, or when he went out. But now, here they were in a train, destined to be close companions for days on end.

The girl's restless fear of the unknown in Garth's nature, which had almost gone to sleep in New York, waked up again. Yet somehow it wasn't as disagreeable as it ought to have been--and indeed, she had rather missed it! There was a stifled excitement in going away with him which interested her intensely; and she was interested in the journey itself.

Garth had made everything very easy and comfortable for his wife, so far as outward arrangements went. She had a stateroom (it happened by chance to be the same in which Miss Marks had travelled a fortnight ago, but Zelie's vows of "getting even" did not haunt the place), and close by, Celine had a whole "section" to herself. Garth lurked in the distance, just where, Marise didn't know. He must, of course, take his bride to meals, and sit chatting with her for some hours each day in her stateroom, lest people who knew their faces should wonder and whisper about the strange honeymoon couple. But so far as Marise could tell, he seemed inclined to keep his word with her.

What would Mums--who had sobbed at parting--think if she knew that her martyred Marise was quite happy and chirpy? Yet so it was! The girl was keenly conscious of Garth's presence, but she couldn't help being as pleased as a child with the neat arrangement of her stateroom; with the coffee-coloured porter whose grin glittered like a diamond tiara set in the wrong place; with the cream-tinted maid who brought a large paper bag for her toque, and said, "My! ain't your hat just _sweet_?" and with the wee wooden houses they pa.s.sed so close she could almost have s.n.a.t.c.hed flower-pots from their window-sills, as "Alice" s.n.a.t.c.hed marmalade, falling down to Wonderland through the Rabbit Hole. That was just at the start, for soon the train was flashing through fair green country with little rivers, and trees like English trees.

Marise laughed aloud at the huge advertis.e.m.e.nts which disfigured the landscape; unpleasant-looking, giant men cut out of wood; Brobdingnag boys munching cakes; profile cows the size of elephants, and bottles tall as steeples. Then suddenly she checked herself. It was the first time she had laughed with Garth! He, too, was smiling. Their eyes met.

The man seemed very human for that moment; young, too, and in spite of his bigness, boyish. What would she have thought of him, she wondered, if they had met in an ordinary way?

The train stopped at very few places. Indeed, when in motion it had an air of stopping at nothing! It was fun going to the restaurant car. Men stared at Marise, and she saw that some of the women stared at Garth.