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WICtOCOTY nSOUJTKm TBT CHA>T
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)
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_^ /■APPLIED IM/lGE
^^ )653 East Main Street
"•.JS Rochester, New York 1*609 US,
•-^ (?'6) *a2 - OJOO - Phone
^S (^'6) 288 - 5989 - Fox
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HIGH HFART
-■■•■ fflW
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-9
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■I'VE BEEN THINKING A GOOD DEAL DURING THE PAST FEW WEEKS
OR YOUR LAW OF TaGHT "
n
THE
HIGH HEART
BY
BASIL KING
ADTHOK OF
THE INNER SHRINE, THE LIFTED VEIL. Eic.
ILLUSTRATED
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS * NEW VO^K
PablUhed bjr A»,.a,.».„, wi,|, H.,p„ » B,„i,;
f^^S3SU/
259015
1^ Hna Run
£°Wli|lit, wi». br HMper & Bndm
Printed In the United Sutee of Ameiic.
PnblMied September, m;
THE HIGH HEART
CHAPTER I
I COULD not have lived in the Brokenshire circle for
nearly a year without lecognizing the fact that in the
eyes of his family J. Howard, as he was commonly called
by the world, was the Great Dispenser; but my first inti-
mation that he meant to act in that capacity towaid me
camef'&om Larry Strangways, on a bright July morning
dining the summer of 1913, when we were at Newport.
I was crossing the lawn, going toward the sea, with little
Gladys Rossiter, to whom I acted as companion in the
hours when she was out of the nursery, with a specific duty
to speak French. Larry Strangwajrs was tutor to th"
Rossiter boy, and in our relative positions we were bound
to exercise toward each other a good deal of discretion.
We fraternized with constraint. We fraternized because
— well, chiefly because we couldn't help it. In the mock-
ing flare of his eye, which contradicted the assumed young
gravity of his manner, I read an opinion of the Rossiter
household and of the Brokenshire family in general similar
to my own. That would have been enough for mutual
comprehension had there been no instinctive sympathies
between us; but there were. Allowing for the fact that
we were of different nationalities, we had the same kind of
THE HIGH HEART
IT^^'J" T"; '^' '^« ^""^ °f *^ language-
Z^ the same kind of aims in life. Neither of m ^'
ganfed the position in the Rossiter establish^-nf
whSmT'^'^- ^^*^°«y^asthecontinentt,3
wluch more or «s consciously I had been traveling fo7fl^
w s« years, without having actuaUy descried a r^ t
S^en'ZSL' "^^ '^'^^ - «"'' St wS had
t^ pkce be^een myself and Mrs. Rossiter after I S
I had met Mrs. Rossiter, who was J. Howard B«,t«,
n^ understood why she should have taken a hm^ for
bHck man^oTltd Wn^^S^mriifTwlth^g^^J
conservatories and lawns running down to t^H,
br^k-harbor which we call the Non W L Ljf fi^:
to our recent bereavement and financial crash, which had
^rlZ-'^l f *^ twenty-four years of comfortTiat ^
proportionately ^^teful. It was partly grati;.? ^"
THE HIGH HEART
partly a natural love of children, and partly a special
affection for the exquisite thing herself, that drew me to
htUe Gladys Rossiter, to playing with her on the lawns
and rowing her on the Arm. and-as I had been for thre^
or four years at school in Paris-dropping into a habit of
hsping French to her. As the child liked me the mother
left tax more and more to my care, gaming thus the greater
scope for her innocuous flirtations.
It was toward the end of the summer that Mrs. Rossiter
began to sigh, " I don't know how I shaU ever tear Gladys
away from you." and, "I do wish you were coming witix
us.
I wi^ it in a way myself, since I was rather at a loss
astowhattodo. I had never expected to have to earn a
living; I had expected to get married. My two elder
astCTs, Louise and Victoria, had married easfly enough the
one m the Navy, the other in the Army; but with me ^t-
ors seemed to lag. They came and saw— but they never
went far enough for conquest. I couldn't understand it
I was not stupid; I was not ugly; and I was generally
spoken of as having „xarm. But there was the fact that I
was twenty. four, with scarcely a penny, and drawing-
nearer and nearer to the end of my expedients. I was not
without some social experience, having kept house in a
generous way for my widowed father, till his death some
two years before th = summer when I met Mrs. Rossiter,
brought with it our financial collapse. If he hadn't left a
lot of old bodks-Ccnadiana, the pamphlets were called—
and rare first editions of all kinds, which I took over to
London and sold at Sothbey's, I shouldn't have had enough
on which to dress. This business being settled, I stayed
M long as I decently could with Louise at Southsea and
Victoria at Gibraltar; but no man asked me to marry him
3
R I
THE HIGH HEART
Axring the course of either visit. Had there been a sisn
of any such posMWUty the sisters would have put them-
selves out to keep me; but as nothing warranted them in
domg so they let me go. An unde and aunt having offered
to give me shelter for a time at Halifax, there was nothing
left for It but to go back and renew the search for my for-
tunes m my native town.
When, therefore, Mrs. Rossiter, in her pretty, helpless
way said to me one day. "Why shouldn't you come ^th
me, dear Mi^ Adare?" I jumped inwardly at the oppor-
tumty though I aniled and replied in an offhand mZ^.
un, that would have to be discussed."
Mrs Rossiter admitted the truth'of this observation
somewhat pensively. I know now that I took her uo
with too much promptitude.
"Yes, of course," she returned, absenuy. and the subject
was dropped.
It was taken up again, however, and our bargain made
On Mrs. Rossiter's part it was made astutely, not in the
matter of money, but in the way in which she shifted me
from the position of a friend into that of a retainer It
WM done with the most perfect tact, but it was done I
had no complaint to make. What she wanted was a nura-
ery governMs. My own first preoccupations were food
and shelter for which I should not be dependent on my kin
We .ame to the incident I am about to relate very gradu-
ally ; but when we did come to it I had no difficulty in see-
ing that It had been in the back of Mrs. Rossiter's mind
from the first. It had been the cause of that second
thought on the day when I had taken her up too readily
She began by telling me about her father. Beyond the
lact that some man who seemed to be speciaUy weU in-
tormed would occasionaUy say with awe. " She's J. Howard
4
THE HIGH HEART
BrolceiuhiK's daughter," I knew nothing whatever about
him. But I began to see him now as the central sun round
whom all the Brokenshires revolved. They revolved
round him, not ••o much from adoration or even from
natural afiCection as from some tremendous rotary force to
which there was no resistance.
Up to this time I had heard no more of American life
than American life had heard of me. The great country
south of our border was scarcely on my map. The Halifax
in whirJi I was bom and grew up was not the bustling
Canadian port, dependent on its hinterland, it is to-day;
it was an outpost of England, with its face always turned
to the Atlantic and the east. My own face had been
turned the same way. My home had been literally a
jumping-ofi place, in that when we left it we never expected
to go in any but the one direction. I had known Ameri-
cans when they came into our midst as summer visitors,
but only in the way one knows the stars which dawn and
fade and leave no trace of their passage on actual happen-
ings.
In the course of Mrs. Rossiter's confidences I began to
see a vast cosmogony beyond my own personal sun, with
J. Howard Brokenshire as the pivot of the new universe.
With a curious little shock of surprise I discovered that
there could be otjier solar ssrstems besides the one to which
I was accustomed, and that Canada was not the whole of
North America. It was like looking through a telescope
which Mrs. Rossiter held to my eye, a telescope through
which I saw the nebular evidence of an immense society,
wealthy, confused, more intellectual than our own, but
more provincial too, perhaps; more isolated, more timid,
more conservative, less instinct with the great throb of
national and international impulse which all of us feel who
5
THE HIGH HEART
■entea the opportunities not merely of a T ;t,„ 7 ^
St«>ley, b^t of a Galileo or a ^L!!.'^""^'""' " »
1 learned that Mrs. Rossiter's mother had h*«, . w
that her father's secc^fLLS^lt^n^Tri^f J"
family. Not that there had b^^^^ dj^^" ^'
^»f; -1 -H 7= very pretty ... but 1 often-wonder^
6
THE HIGH HEART
I was helping her to pack— that is, I was hdping the
maid while Mrs. Rossiter directed. Just at that minute,
however, she was standing up, shaking out the folds of an
evening dress. She se«aned to peep at me round its gar-
nishings as she said, apropos of nothing:
"There's my brother Hugh. He's the youngest of us
all— just twenty-six. He has no occupation as yet— he's
just studying languages and things. My father wants
him to go into diplomacy." As I caught her eye there
was a smile in it, but a special kind of smile. It was the
smile to go with the sensible, kindly, coaxing inflection
with which she said, " You'U leave him alone, won't you?"
I took the dress out of her hand to carry it to the maid
in the next room.
" Leave him alone— how ?"
She flushed to a lovely pink.
"Oh, you know what I mean. I don't have to explain."
"You mean that in my position in the household it will
be for me to — ^ta keep out of his way?"
II It's you who put it like that, dear Miss Adaie— "
"But it's the way you want me to put it?"
"Well, if I admit that it is?"
"Then I don't think I care for the place."
"What?"
I stated my position more simply.
"If I'm to have nothing to do with your brother, Mrs
Rossiter, I don't Iraat to go."
In the audacity of this response she saw something that
amused her, for, snatching the dress from my hand, she
ran with it into the next room, laug.iing.
During the following winter in New York and the eariy
summer of the next year in Newport I saw a good deal of
Mr. Hugh Brokenshire, but never with any violent restrio-
' 7
THE HIGH HEART
«« on the part of Mn. R«wter. I «y violent wJfi.
ana that was from Larry Strani?wav« Tf „» "^ " °">
tion he had overh«^inST«J J o °'^'*^
Fortified by this acquittal I went An m„ ™»
andcoineinmvdirprt,n„ ^"^ «»»«« across the lawn
give him the authorization but something in the wIvTn
message or command t« ,11 u ^^'' "^^ ^ *
ne to avoid ham while prudence, as I have hinted gave
l>«n the same mdic^tion to keep at a distance S»^
8
THE HIGH HEART
Lucidly be didn't live in the houie, but in lodgings in the
town. We hardly ever met face to face, and then only
under the eye of Mrs. Roanter when each of us mar-
shaled a pupil to lunch or to tea.
As the collie at his heels and the wire-haired terrier at
OUTS made a bee-line for each other the children kept them
company, which gave us space for those few minutes of
privacy the occasion apparently demanded. Though he
lifted his hat formally, and did his best to preserve the
decorum of our official situations, the prank in his eye
flung out that signal to which I could never do anything
but respond.
" I've a message for you, Miss Adare."
I managed to stammer out the word "Indeed?" I
couldn't be surprised, and yet I could hardly stand erect
from fear.
He glanced at the children to make sure they were out
of earshot.
"It's from the great man himself— indirectly."
I was so near to collapse that I could only say, " Indeed?"
again, though I rallied sufficiently to add, "I didn't know
he was aware of my existence." .
"Apparently he wasn't — ^but he is now. He desires you
— ^I give you the verb as Spellman, the secretary, passed it
on to me— he desires you to be in the breakfast loggia here
at three this aftemoori."
I could barely squeak the words out :
"Does he mean that he's coming to see me?"
"That, it seems, isn't necessary for you to know. Your
business is to be there. There's quite a subtle point in the
limitation. Being there, you'll see what will happen next
It isn't good for you to be told too much at a time."
My spirit began to revive.
9
THE HIGH HEART
W« lervant. I'm Mr.. Rowter-g. If h.
-W c< ». why doe«,-t he ^yZ> tZ^
"I'm nr
want! Ml
her?"
But he's not God."
"Oh, as to that— -well vou'll «>. •• tt j j .
!i?ht laugh. "Wl^TS'S^ J^rit I dc^f^ '^'^ '^
it s all about?" y™ w that I doa t know what
"Oh, I bet you do."
I Ss'°^tSr"™'^" "^''* "P '"^"t it."
.. ^ P'ttMK on my mettle.
"N?T.' '"T^' I *«'a't be alone."
"fiin^S^ be made to feel alone."
l^Uhi itr.^^ "^ ^ ^«-« beforehand, I
''Yes?" he jogged. "Even so-what?"
-«2t is^-^fl^^r. -- "-t i:« -t afraid of him
toUy., «»«cted, Ifflnotafraidofhimfundamen-
°^me. "No. lS.S:^^7^-=-»«J to approve
why not." ""*^y°^i are. out I wonder a little
the islets that ^JZe^tS^l^""' ""' "" *°
end r decided to speak ^b^T^.^ *' ^"'°"- ^^ the
I-Jatlast. "bS^rr^tai^SJ^f^"^^-"
SToii mean him?" ^^
-L'"lZ.'^';;^*Jl"*° .«"«•> Br^kenshir.. "KI
' '^''^' ^^ » '»«'«te's thinking, "it's only
THE HIGH HEART
M the greater includes the len, or u the univenal indudes
everything.
He whittled under his breath.
" Does that mean anything ? Or is it just big talk i"'
Half shy and half ashamed of going on with what I hart
to say, I was obliged to smile ruefully.
" It's big talk because it's a big principle. I don't know
how to manage it with anything small. " I tried to explain
further, knowing that my dark skin flushed to a kind of
dahlia-red while I was doing so. " I don't know whether
I've read it— or whether I heard it— or whether I've just
evolved it— but I seem to have got hold of— of— don't
laug^ too hard, please— of the secret of success."
"Good for youl I hope you're not going to be stinry
with it."
"No; I'll tell you— partly because I want to talk about
it to some one, and just at present there's no one else "
"Thanks!"
"The secret of success, as I reason it out, must be some-
thing that will protect a weak person against a strong
one— me, for instance, against J. Howard Brokenshire—
and work everything out all right. There," I cried, " I've
said the word."
"You've said a number. Which is the one?"
Anxiety not to seem either young or didactic or a prig
made my tone apologetic.
"There'-i such a thing as Right, written with a capital.
If I persist in doing Right-^till with a capital— then
nothing but right can come of it."
"Oh, can't it!"
" I know it sounds like a platitude — "
"No, it doesn't," he interrupted, rudely, "because a
platitude is something obviously true; and this isn't."
THE HIGH HEART
I thought it must be."
Suppose you do right
I felt some relief.
"Oh, isn't it? Then I'm glad.
"You won't go on thinking it
and somebody else does wrong?"
"Then I should be willing to back my way against his.
Don t you s^? That's the point. Thlt'stLI^S
tdtog you about. Right works; wx«:g doesn'tT^
Inat s all very fine—"
wJrf wm J"^ ^ ^"^ '''' *'• ^'Sht is-whaf 8 the
wonJ Wilham James put into the dictionaiy?"
He suggested pragmatism.
"That's it. Right is pragmatic, which I suppose is the
--thmg, as practical. Wrong must be imj^.^, fit
Jiiftr^^l\^ *°° confidently on that in dealing
with the great J. Howard." ^^^
hil!t!.!i°'f"^^''^''°"'*- It's where I'm to have
S^ttL^Tv^- «''^doesw«>ngwhileIdorighT
way, then 1 11 get him on the hip."
•'^ How do you know he's going to do wrong?"
..„:°° *• ^ °^^^y ^"^^ it- If he does right-"-
He U get you on the hip."
to the other. That's not m common sense. If he doi
n«h theal shall be saf^whichever way I have to takeT
Dontyousee? That's whe« the succeL comes fa aTw J
Tbill^J"^''-'^^^°*^^^y- Please dS
^^Z ^ 't "''^* "• ^- ^^"^ ^ th« tin-pot
style-but one must express oneself somehow. I'm not
^d. because I feel as if I'd got something tha woS
W about me hke a magic cloak. Of couri for yT^a
man-a magic cloak may .ot be necessaiy; but I^
THE HIGH HEART
you that for a girl like me, out in the world on her
own — '*
He, too, sobered down from his cha£5ng mood.
"But in this case what is going to be Right— written
with a capital?"
I had just time to reply, "Oh, that I shall have to see!"
when the children and dogs came scampering up and our
conversation was over.
On returning from my walk with Gladys I informed Mrs.
Rossiter of the order I had received. I could see her dis-
tressed look in the mirror before which she sat doing some-
thing to her hair.
"Oh, dear!" she sighed, "it's just what I was afraid of.
Now I suppose he'll want you to leave."
"That is, he'll want you to send me away."
"It's the same thing," she said, fretfully, and sat with
hands lying idly in her lap.
She stared out of the window. It was a large bow win-
dow, with a window-seat cushioned in flowered chintz.
Couch, curtains, and easy-chairs reproduced this En- want-
ed Garden effect, forming a paradisiacal background for
her intensely modem and somewhat neurotic prettiness.
I had seen her sit by the half-hour like this, gazing over the
shrubberies, lawns, and waves, with a jreaming in her eyes
like that of some twentieth-century Blessed Damozel.
It was her unhappy hour of the day. Between getting
up at nine or ten and descending languidly to limch, life
was always a great load to her. It pressed on one too weak
to bear its weight and yet too conscientious to throw it off,
though, as a matter of fact, this melancholy was only the
reaction of her nerves from the mild excitements of the
night before. I was generally with her during some por-
tion of this forenoon time, reading her notes and answering
13
I
Ptdi
THE HIGH HEART
them, spealmig for her at the telephone, or keeping her
«mpany and hstening to her confidences while ste nibbled
wittout appetite at a bit of toast and sipped her tea
To put matters on the common footing I said-
•Is there wiything you'd like me to do, Mrs. Rossiter?"
ttrough half^losed hps, as if mere speech was more tha.^
she was equal to: "And just when we were getting on so
weU-and the way Gladys adores you— " ^ ^ '"
"And the way I adore Gladys."
"Oh, well, you don't spoil the chUd. like lUt Miss
ra._ps. I suppose It's your sensible EngHsh bringing
"Not English." I interrupted.
"Canadian then. It's ahnost the same thing." She
went on without transition of tone: "Mr. Millinger was
ttqr wouldn t keep putting him next to me. It makes
everythmg look so pointed-especiaUy with Hany Scott
glowermg at me from the other end of the table. He
haidly spoke to Daisy Burke, whom he'd taken in I
must say she was a fright. And Mr. MilUnger so impru-
JrlL ""."^l ^"^^ ^' J^ ^ h^ Bo^P when
he comes down rom New Yorker notice something."
Thaie was the shghtest dropping of the soft fluting vdce
as she continued: "I've never pretended to love Jim Rossi-
ter more than any man I've ever seen. That was one of
papas matches. He's a bom match-maker, you know
just as he s a bora everything else. I suppose you didn't
think of that. But since I am Jim's wif^'
M I was the confidante of what she called her affairs-
a rtle for which I was qualified by residence in British
gamson towns-I interposed diplomaticaUy, "But so long
14
THE HIGH HEART
as Mr. Millinger hasn't said anything, not any mote than
Mr. Scott — "
"Oh, if I were to allow men to say things, where should
I be? You can go far with a man without letting him
come to that. It's something I should think you'd have
known— with your sensible bringing up— and the heaps of
men you had there in HaUf ax— and I suppose at Southsea
and Gibraltar, too." It was with a hint of L Ipless com-
plaint that she added, "Y- 1 remember that I asked you
to leave him alone, now don't you?"
"Oh, I remember— quite. And suppose I did— and he
didn't leave me alone?"
"Of course there's that, though it won't have any efifect
on papa. You are unusual, you know. Only one man in
five hundred would notice it ; but there always is that man.
It's what I was afraid of about Hugh from the first.
You're different— and it's the sort of thing he'd see."
"Different from, what?" I asked, with natural curiosity.
Her reply was indirect.
"Oh, well, we Americans have specialized too much on
the girl. You're not half as good-looking as plenty of
other girls in Newport, and when it comes to dress—"
"Oh, I'm not in their class, I know."
"No; it's what you seem not to know. You aren't in
their class— but it doesn't seem to matter. If it does
matter, it's rather to your advantage."
"I'm afraid I don't see that."
"No, you wouldn't. You're not sufficiently subtle.
You're really not subtle at aU, in the way an American girl
would be." She picked up the thread she had dropped.
"The fact is we've specialized so much on the girl that our
girls are too aware of themselves to be wholly human.
They're like things wound up to talk well and dress weU
IS
THE HIGH HEART
and exhibit themselves to advantage and calculate their
effects-and lack character. We've developed the very
highKt thing in exquisite girl^nechanic^-a work of art
thathaseveiythingbutasoul." She turned half round
to whoe I stood respectfully, my hands resting on the
bade of an easy-chair. She was lovely and pathetic and
judicial all at once. "The difference about you is that
you seem to spring right up out of the soU where you're
standing-^ust like an English country house. You be-
long to your background. Our girls don't. They're too
beautiful for their background, too expensive, too pre
duced. Take any group of girls here in Newport-they're
no more m place in this down-at-the-heel old town than
a flock of parrakeets in a New England wood. It's really
inartistic, though we don't know" it. You're more of a
woman and less of a lovely figurine. But that won't
apped to papa. He likes figurines. Most American
men do. Hugh is an exception, and I was afraid he'd see
m^ just what I've seen myself. But it won't go down
''Ji it goes down with Hugh—" I began, meekly.
Papa IS a bom match-maker, which I don't suppose
you know. He made my match and he made Jack's Oh
'^I'trr''^- ^^t"^^ ""'""^ ^ ^y- ^^ I «>PPOse Hugh
Ti^ '." **"' '°"^ ™"" ^ '^ted to speak, but she
tmkled gently on : " Papa has his designs for him, which I
T4 ^.^f^J^^ y°" ^* °"«'- He means him to marry
I.-: iy Cissie Boscobel. She's Lord Goldborough's daugh-
tar, and papa and he are very intimate. Papa knew him
when we hved in England before grandpapa died. Papa
has done thmgs for him in the American money-market
and when we re in England he does things for us. Two or
three of our men have married earls' daughters during the
16
THE HIGH HEART
last few years, aad it hasn't turned out so badly. PapB
doesn't want not to be in the swim."
"Does" — I couldn't pronounce Hugh's name again —
"does your brother know of Mr. Brokenshire's inten-
tions?"
"Yes. I told him so. I told him when I began to see
that he was noticing you."
"And may I ask what he said?"
"It would be no use telling you that, because, whatever
he said, he'd have to do as papa told him in the end."
"But suppose he doesn't?"
"You can't suppose he doesn't. He wiH. That's all
that can be a. id about it." She turned fully round on me,
gazing at me with the largest and sweetest and tenderest
eyes. "As for you, dear Miss Adare," she murmured,
sympathetically, "when papa comes to see you this after-
noon, as apparently he means to do, he'll grind you to
powder. If there's anything smaller than powder he'll
grind you to that. After he's gone we sha'n't be able to
find you. You'll be dust."
CHAPTER n
hm
' * the breakfast loggia.
nP^D™"! f ^""^ ^"^"^ ^^^ ^^ S^"* l<»>«»d toward
f>±l, w^"^""- The s<>caUed breakfast logSwas
tWn out from the dining-room in the directi^rf fte
sea. Here the family and their guests could gather on
waro evenm^, and in fine weather eat in the open air
Paved with red tJes, it was furnished with a long oak table
ornately carved, and some heavy old oak chairs that might
have anne from a monastery. Steamer chain and widker
e^-chau^ were scattered on the grass outside. On the
left the loggia was screened from the neighboring property
UA ^ °f/ambler roses that now ran the gamut rf
shades from cnmson to sea-shell pink, while on the right it
Zr"^f .u ^r" °^ ^ ^° **"^ supporting the
^°^l^^l^^J':'^^^ehi^^otaowers. The house
Itself had been built piecemeal, and was now a low, ram-
bhng succession of pavilions or ccrps de logis, to which a
sen« o^ rose-colored awnings gave the only unifying
Just now it was a house deserted by every one but the
servants and myself . Mrs. Rossiter, having gone out to
^^l f^ ""^ "°* *° "**--• "Teven the
^^ ^iT ^* ""^ *° ^"^^ J^ Biokenshire, on
the preteirt of playing with her baby, but reaUy to be out
i8
I
THE HIGH HEART
oftheway. Prom Hugh I had had no sign of life smce the
previous afternoon. As to whether his father was comin;!
as his enemy, his master, or his interpreter I could do
nothuig but conjecture.
But as far as I could I kept myself from conjecturing,
holding my fa'^ties in suspense. I had enough to do in
assurmg myself that I was not afraid— fundamentaUy
SuperfidaUy I was terrified. I should have been terrified
had the great man but passed me in the hall and cast a look
at me. He had passed me in the hall on occasions, but as
he had never cast the look I had escaped. He had struck
me then as a master of that art of seeing without seeing
which I had hitherto thought of as feminine. Even when
he stopped and spoke to Gladys he seemed not to know
that I occupied the ground I stood on. I cannot say I
enjoyed this treatment. I was accustomed to being seen.
Moreover, I had Uved with people who were courteou- to
inferiors, however cavalier with equals. The great J.
Howard was neither courteous nor cavalier toward me, for
the reason that where I was he apparently saw nothing
butavacuimi.
Out to the loggia I took my work-basket and some sew-
ing. Having no idea from which of the several approaches
my visitor would come on me, I drew up one of the heavy
aim-chairs and sat facing toward the sea. With the basket
on the table beside me and my sewing in my hands I felt
indefinably more mistress of myself.
It was a still afternoon and hot, with scarcely a sound
but the pounding of the surf on the ledges at the foot of
the lawn. Though the sky was blue overhead, a dark low
bank rose out of the horizon, foretelling a chjmge of wind
with fog. In the air the languorous scent of roaes and
honeysuckle mingled with the acrid tang o€ the ocewi.
19
THE HIGH HEART
I feh •rtraordinanly desolate. Not since hearing what
the lawyer had told me on the afternoon of my father's
funeral had I seemed so entirely alone. The fact that for
nearly twenty-four hours Hugh had got no word to me
threw me back upon myself. "You'll be made to fed
alone," Mr. Strangways had said in the morning; and I
was. I didn't blame Hugh. I had purposely left the
matter in such a way that there was nothing he could say
or do till after his father had spoken. He was probably
waiting impatiently; I had, indeed, no doubt about that;
but the fact remained that I, a girl, a stranger, in a certain
sense a foreigner, was to make the best of my situation
without help. J. Howard Brokershire could grind me to
powder — when he had gone away I should be dust.
"If I do right, nothing but right can come of it."
The maxim was my only comfort. By sheer force Ot
repeating it I got strength to thread my needle and go on
with my seam, till on the stroke of three the dread per-
sonage appeared.
I saw htm from the minute he mounted the steps that
led up from the Clifi Walk to Mr. Rossiter's lawn. He was
accompanied by Mrs. Brokenshire, while a pair of grey-
hounds followed them. Having reached the lawn, they
crossed it diagonally toward the loggia. Because of the
heat and the up-hill nature of the way, they advanced
slowly, which gave me leisure to observe.
Mrs. Brokenshire's presence had almost caused my heart
to stop beating. I cotild imagine no motive for her coming
but one I refused to accept. If the mission was to be un-
friendly, she surely would have stayed away; but that it
ccrAd be other than unfriendly was beyond my strength to
hope.
I had never seen her before except in glimpses or at a
20
THE HIGH HEART
distance. I noticed now that ihewu a little thing, loddng
the smaller for the stalwart siz>foot-two beside which she
walked. She was in white and carried a white parasol. I
saw that her face was one of the most beautiful in features
and finish I had ever looked into. Each trait was quite
amazingly perfect. The oval was perfect; the coloring
vras perfect; mouth and nose and forehead might have
been made to a measured scale. The finger of personified
Art could have drawn nothing more exquisite than the arch
of the eyebrows, or more delicately fringed than the lids.
It might have been a doll's face, or the face for the cover
of an American magazine, had it not been saved by some-
thing I hadn't the time to analyze, though I was later to
know what it was.
As for him, he was as perfect in his way as she in hers.
When I say that he wore white shoes, white-duck trousers,
a navy-blue jacket, and a yachting-cap I give no idea of
the something noble in his personality. He might have
been one of the more ornamental Italian princes of im-
memorial lineage. A Jove with a Vandyke beard one
could have called him, and if you add to that the concep-
tion of Jovo ti-j Thtmderer, Jove with the look that could
strike a man dead, perhaps the description would be as
good as any. He was straight and held his head high.
He walked with a firm setting of his feet that impressed
you with the fact that some one jf importance was coming.
It is not my purpose to speak of this man from the point
of view of the ordinary member of the public. Of that 1
know next to nothing. I was dimly aware that his wealth
and his business interests made him something of a public
character; but apart from having heard him mentioned as
a financier I could hardly have told what his profession
was. So, too, with questions of morals. I have been
THE HIGH HEART
pn^t when, by hinU rather than actual words, he was
faitroduced a»a profligate and a hypocrite; and I have also
known people of good judgment who upheld him both as
man and as dtiren. On this subject no opinion of mine
.rouJd be worth giving. I have always relegated the mat-
ter into that limbo of disputed facts with which I have
nothing to do. I write of him only as I saw him in daily
Me, or at least in direct intercoune, and with that my
tMtimony must end. Other people have been curious
with regard to those aspects of his character on which I
«n throw no light. To me he became interesting chiefly
berause he was one of those men who from a kind of ntave
audacity, perhaps an unthinking audacity, don't hesitate
to play the part of the Almighty.
When they drew near enough to the loggia I stood up,
my sewmg in my hand. The two greyhounds, who had
outdistanced them, came sniffing to the threshold and
stared at me. I felt myself an object to be stared at
ttough I had taken pains with my appearance and knew
that I was neat. Neatness, I may say in passing, is my
strong point. Where many other girls can stand expen-
^ (^-essing I am at my best when meticulously tidy
TTie shape of my head makes the simplest styles of doing
the hair the most distinguished. My figure lends itself
to country clothes and the tailor-made. In evening dress
I can wear the cheapest and flimsiest thing, so long as it is
dependent only on its lines. I was satisfied, therefore,
mth the way I looked, and when I say I felt myself an
object to be stared at I speak only of my consciousness of
isolation.
I <annot affirm, however, that J. Howard Brokenshire
stared at me. He stared; but only at the general eflEects
m which I was a mere detail. The loggia being open on
THE HIGH HEART
aU sidM, he pauwd for half a second to take it and ito con-
tenta in. I went with the contents. I looked at him;
but nothing in the glance he cast over me recognized me aa
a human being. I might have been the table; I might
iiave been the floor; for him I was hardly in existence.
I wonder if you have ever stood rnder the gaze of one
who considered you too inferior for notice. The sensation
is quite curious. It produces not humiliation or resent-
ment so much as an odd apathy. You sink in your own
sight; you go down; you understand that abjection of
slaves which kept them from rising against their masters.
Negatively at least you concede the right that so treats
you. You are meek and humble at once ; and yet you can
be strong. I think I never felt so strong as when I saw that
cold, deep eye, which was steely and fierce and most incon-
sistently sympathetic all in one quick fla-sh, sweep over me
and pay me no attention. Ecce Ftmina I might have been
saying to myself, as a pendant in expression to the Ecce
Homo of the Pnetorium.
He moved aside punctiliously at the lower of the two
steps that led up to the loggia to let his wife precede him.
As she came in I think she gave me a salutation that was
little more than a quiver of the lids. Having closed her
parasol, she slipped into one of the arm-chairs not far
from the table.
Now that he was at close quartets, with his work before
him, he proceeded to the task at once. In the act of
laying his hat and stick on a chair he began with the ques-
tion, "Your name is — ?"
The voice had a crisp gentleness that seemed to come
from the effort to despatch business with the utmost
celerity and spend no unnecessary strength on words.
The fact that he must have heard my name from Hugh was
3 n
THE HIGH HEART
plumlytoplaynopartfaourdwcuwon. I was w unutter-
ably frightened that when I tried to whisper the word
"Adare" hardly a sound came forth.
As he raised hiniself from the placing of his c^ and
stick he was obliged to utter a sharp, "What?"
"Adare."
"Oh, Adare!"
It is not a bad name as names go; we like to fancy on^
selves connected with the famous Fighting Adaies of the
County Limerick; but on J. Howard Brokenshiie's lip«
it had the undiscriminating commonness of Smith or Jones.
I had never been ashamed of it befoi*.
"And you're one of my daughter's—"
"I'm her nursery governess."
"Sit down."
As he took tho chair at the end of the table I dropped
again into that at the side from which I had risen. It
was then that something happened which left me for a
second in doubt as tc whether to take it as comic or catas-
trophic. His left eye closed; his left nostril quivered;
he winked. To avoid having to face this singular phenom-
enon a secord time I lowered my eyes and b^an me-
chanically to sew.
"Put that down!"
I placed the work on the table and once more looked
at him. The striking eyes were again as striking as ever.
In their sympathetic hardness there was nothing either
ribald or jocose.
I suppose my scrutiny annoyed him, though I was un-
conscious of more than a mute asking for orders. He
pointed to a distant chair, a chair in a comer, just within
the loggia as you come from the direction of the dining-
room.
«4
THE HIGH HEART
"» there."
1 know now that his wink distressed him. It was some-
thing which at that time had come upon him recently, and
that he could neither control nor understand. A loss im-
podng man, a man to whom personal impressiveness was
less of an asset in daily life and work, would probably
have been less disturbed by it; but to J. Howard Broken-
shire it was a trial in more ways than one. Curiously, too,
wh«i the left eye winked the right grew glassy and quite
terrible.
Not knowing that he was sensitive in this respect, I took
my retreat to the comer as a kind of symbolic banishment.
"Hadn't I better stand up?" I asked, proudly, when f
had reached my chair.
"Be good enough to s-t down."
I seemed to fall backward. The tone had the eflfect of
a shot. If I had ever felt small and foolish in my life it
was then. I flushed to my darkest crimson. Angry and
humiliated, I was obliged to rush to my maxim in order
not to flash back in some indignant retort.
And then another thing happened of which I was
unable at the minute to get the significance. Mrs.
Brokenshire sprang up with the words:
" You're quite right, Howard. It's ever so much cooler
over here by the edge. I never felt anything so stuffy as
the r -ddle of this place. It doesn't seem possible for
air to get into it."
While speaking she moved with incomparable dainti-
ness to a chair corresponding to mine and diagonally
opposite. With the length and width of the loggia be-
tween us we exchanged glances. In hers she seemed to
say, "If you are banished I shall be banished too"; in
mine I tried to express gratitude. And yet I was aware
*S
THE HIGH HEART
"-oth movement «md
that I might have misunderstood
look entirely.
^^LH^l surprise was in the worfs Mr. Bmkenshii*
^^^ ^^T "' "^^^ ^ *^« «'ft- sightly nasal
t^ °^''^* ^"^ '"^"^ ^ °° ^' business asso^
the effect of a whip-lash. ~.~ijaw3
, "We've come over to tell you, Miss-Miss Adare, how
mua we appreciate your attitude toward our boy Hueh
I understand frxan him that he's offered to marry y;«, ^d
TtT^J"^ F"?^^^ '" ^°" '''"^*'°" y°"'^e declined.
The boy .s foolish, as you evidently see. He meant noth-
™ could do nottiing. You're probably not without
expenence of a smnlar kind among the sons of your
other employers At the same time, as you doubtless
expect, we sha'n't let you suffer by your prudence-
It was a bad beginning. Had he made any sort of ap-
peal to me, however unkindly worded, I should probab^
have yielded. But the tradition of the Fighting AdarS
was not in me for nothing, and after a smothering s^
tion which rendered me speechless I managed to rtammer
"Won't you allow me to say that—"
The way in which his large, white, handsome hand went
wenT m""^* *° ™^^ ^^°^ "^" "^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^
"In order that you may not be annoyed by my son's
foUy « the fiitur. you wiU leave my daughte^s^y
you 11 leave Newport-you'U be well advised. inS in
going back to your own country, which I understand to
be the British provmces. You wiU lose nothing, however
by this conduct, as I've given you to understand. Three
-four-five thousand doUars-I think five ought to be
suflicient— generous, in fact "
a6
■ to inter-'
THE HIGH HEART
"But I've not refused him." I was able at h>
pose. "I— I mean to accept him."
Tha* was an instant of stillness 6m ng which or-o
could hear the poundmg of the sea.
y^T *^* ™^ ^^ 5^ ''ant me to i«se ywir
"No, Mr. Btokenshire. I have no price. If it means
anything at all that has to do with you, it's to tell you
that _I m mistress of my acts and that I consider your son
—he s twenty-six— to be master of his."
Thete was a continuation of the stiUness. His voice
when he spoke was the gentlest sound I had ever heard
in the way of human utterance. If it were not for the
situation It could have been considered kind-
"Anything at aU that has to do with me.? You seem
to attach no importance to the fact that Hugh is my son "
1 do not know how words came to me. They seemed
to flow from my Hps independently of thought.
"I attach importance only to the fact that he's a man
Men who are never anything but their father's sons aren't
"And yet a father has some rights."
"Yes, sir; some. He has the right to follow whei* his
grown-up children lead. He hasn't the right to lead and
require his grown-up children to follow "
He shifted his ground. 'Tm obliged to you for your
opinion, but at present it's not to the point-"
I broke in breathlessly: "Pardon me, sir; it's exactly to
the point. Im a woman; Hugh's a man. We're-we're
m tove with each other; it's aU we have to be concerned
"Not quite; you've got to be concemed-with me »
Which is what I deny."
»7
THE HIGH HEART
"Oh, denial won't do you any good. I didn't come to
hear your denials, or your afiBimations, either. I've oone
to tell you what to do."
"But if I know that already?"
"That's quite possible— if you mean to play your
game as doubtless you've played it before. I only want
to warn you — "
I looked toward Mrs. Brokenshire for help, but her
eyes were fixed on the floor, on which she was drawing
what seemed like a design with the tip of her parasol.
The greyhounds were stretched at her feet. I could do
nothing but speak for myself, which I did with a cahnness
that surprised me.
"Mr. Brokenshire," I interrupted, "you are a man
and I'm a woman. What's more, you're a strong man,
while I'm a woman with no protection at all. I ask you
—do you think you're playing a man's part in insulting
me?"
His tone grew kind ahnost to affection. "My dear
young lady, you misunderstand me. Insult couldn't be
fiu1;her from my thoughts. I'm speaking entirely for
your own sake. You're young; you're very pretty; I
won't say you've no knowledge of the world because I
see you have — "
"I've a good deal of knowledge of the world."
"Only not such knowledge as would warrant you in
pitting yoturself against me."
"But I don't. If you'd leave me alone — "
"Let us keep to what we're taUdag of. I'm sorry for
you; I really am. You're at the beginning of what
might euphemistically— do you know the meaning of the I
word?— be called a career. I should like to save you from I
it; that's all. It's why I'm speaking to you very plainly
38
THE HIGH HEART
every fami'y of thJlT Pf°**™*°«' believe me. Nearly
^d young women of-what ^To^ZZlT' T'
young women who mean to do the^t Zt ^ '^^•~
selve^let us put it in that way-" ^ ^ ^°' '^-
I m a gentleman's daughter " r k,„i •
He smiled "nt, , , ^ ^^^ol^e m, weakly.
N...iste.LX^--£'-£men.daug^^.
in cilTda^'^ "^ *^ ^°" "-* -^ father was a iudge
;;The detail doesn't interest me."
^o, but It interests mo t+ •
equal to-" '^'^ ««• I* g>ves me a sense of being
;;K you please! We'll not go into that "
let me tell^ Xol J..^'"" ^ ^^ «"^'' ^ou -st
th:itT;srrLde^r<a""or"^,«««^- ^*
the fact—" ™aerstood. Once you've accepted
.' TW,V"Jr^^«*Pt it from Hugh himself "
That s foohsh. Hugh will do as I tell hL "
But why should he in this case.?" '
-tt'L i^fdeirui'iyis-yt:'''^- ^^'-^
working for that, don't yof^^'^^°7°«terest. ^'^
thing about me I could 1,';:^^ ^°" <^°°'* ^°- -y
■Oh,butwedolcnowsomethingaboutyo«. Weknow.
THE HIGH HEART
{or example, since you compel me to say it, that you're
a httle penon of no importance whatever."
" My family is one of the best in Canada "
"And admitting that that's so,- who would care what
c(Mistituted a good family in Canada? To us here it
m«ms nothing; in England it would mean still less. I've
liad opportunities of judging how Canadians are regarded
m England, and I assure you it's nothing to make you
proud." '
Of the several things he had said to sting me I was most
sensitive to this. I, too, had had opportunities of judg-
mg, and knew that if anything could make one ashamed of
being a Bntish colonial of any kind it would be British
opmion of colonials.
"My father used to say—"
He put up his large, white hand. "Another time Let
us keep to the subject before us."
I omitted the mention of my father to insist on a theory
as to which I had often heard him express himself- "If
It s part of the subject before us that I'm a Canadian and
that Canadians are ground between the upper and lower
mmstones of both EngHsh and American contempt-"
Isn t that another digression?"
"Not reaUy," I hurried on, determined to speak "be-
cause if I'm a sufferer by it, you are, too, in your dWree
.t s part of the Anglo-Saxon tradition for those who stay
behind to despise those who go out as pioneers. Theraa
lias always done it. It isn't only the British who've de-
spised then- colonists. The people of the Eastern States
d^ised those who went out and peopled the Middle
W«t; those m the Middle West despised those who went
fartha- West." I was still quoting my father. "It's
somethmg that defies reason and eludes argument. It's
30
THE HIGH HEART
a base strain in the blood. It's like that hierarchy among
servante by which the lady's maid disdains the cook, and
the cook disdains the kitchen-maid, and the proudest are
those who ve nothing to be proud of. For you to look
dbwn on me because I'm a Canadian, when the common-
est of Enghshmen, with precisely the same justification,
looks down on you—" >-«"u".
"Dear young lady." he broke h>, soothingly, "you're
taUang wildly. You're speaking of things y^/toow
nothmgabout^ Le* us get back to what we began with.
My son has offered to marry you—"
"He didn't offer to many me. He asked me-he
b^ged me— to marry him."
'"Ths way of putting it is of no importance."
'Ah, but it is."
"I mean that, however he expressed it— however vou
express it— the result must be the same."
I nerved myself to look at him steadily. "I mean to
acc^t him. When he asked me yesterday I said I
wouldn t give him either a Yes or a No till I knew what
^u^_ his family thought of it. But now that I do
■'You're determined to try the impossible."
It won't be the impossible till he tells me so."
He seemed for a second or two to study me. "Suppose
I ao^ted you as what you say you are-^ a young
woman of good antecedents and honorable characte
Would you still persist in the effort to foree yourself on
a famdy that didn't want you?" y^-^seu on
I confess that in the language Mr. Strangways acd I
had used m the morning, he had me here "on the hip "
To iorce m;.self on a family that didn't want me wo-jid
nannally have been the last of my desires. But I -ras
31
II !^
THE HIGH HEART
fitting nm for something that went beyond my de«w»-
^^ laiger-^miething national, as I conceived of
r^taonahty-something human-though I couldn't have
d^LS '"^' " "^ ' '^'^'^' °^y ^ '^
"I couldn't stop to consider a family. My object
wodd be to marry the man who loved m^l^d whtTl
"So that you'd face the humiliation—"
r,J- '"'f^'^ ^ humffiation. because it would have
^tto^^ to do wxth me. It would pass into another
"It wouldn't be another sphere to him."
' I should tave to let him take care of that. It's all I
can manage to look out for myself—"
TWe seemed to be some admiration in his tone.
Which you seem marvelously weU fitted to do "
Thank you."
"In fact it;s one of the ways in which you betray
yourself. An innocent girl— " ^
I strained forward in my chair. "Wouldn't it be fair
for you to teU me what you mean by the word innocent?"
I mean a girl who has no special ax to grind—"
_ I could hear my foot tapping on the floor, but I was to
mdignant to restrain myself. "Even that figure of speech
leaves too much to the imagination." ^^
He studied me again. "You're very sharp "
■Don't I ne«d to be," I demanded, "with an enemy of
your acumen?" •'
"But I'm not your enemy. It's what you don't seem
^J^\- "^J"" ^"'°'^- ^'^ *^« f ^^ y<« out of
a Mtuation that would kiU you if you got into it "
I thmk I laughed. "Isn't death preferable to dis-
3»
It's a
But I
THE HIGH HEART
honor?" I saw my mistake in the quickness with which
Mrs. Brokenshire looked up. "There are more kinds of
dishonor than one," I explained, loftUy, "and to me the
blackest would be in allowing you to (^ictate to me."
"My dear young woman, I dictate to men—"
"Oh, to men!"
"I see! You presume on your womanhood,
common American expedient, and a cheap one.
don't stop for that."
"You may not stop for womanhood, Mr. Brokenshire;
but neither does womanhood stop for you."
He rose with an air of weary patience. "I'm afraid
we sha'n't gain a-iytuing by talking further--"
"I'm afraid not." I, too, rose, advancing to the table.
We confronted each other across it, while one of the dogs
came nosing to his master's hand. I had barely the
strength to gasp on: "We've had our talk and you see
where I am. I ask nothing but the exercise of human
Uberty— and the measure of respect I conceive to be due
to every one. Surely you, an American, a representative
of what America is supposed to stand for, can't think of it
as too much."
"If America is supposed to stand for your marrying
my son — "
"America stands, so I've been told by Americans, for
the reasonable freedom of the individual. If Hugh wants
to marry me — "
II Hugh will marry the woman I approve of."
"Then that apparently is what we must put to the
test."
I was now so near to tears that I suppose he saw an
openmg to his own advantage. Coming round the table,
he stood looking down at me with that expression which
33
THE HIGH HEART
I«m^describe as sympathetic. With aU the dammt-
that about hmx which left you with a lingering suspicion
^t he might be right. It was the man who 3*^
nght who was presently sitting easily on the edge rf tto
table, so that his face was on a levd with m^^S
saymg m a kindly voice: '
"Now look here! Let's be reasonable. I don't want
Sfn^LuJh-"^- ^'"-^^^^^^w the whole
"I'm not," I declared, hotly.
"That's generous; but I'm speaking of myself I'm
my^r ;ri*^^ -"""'^ "-^ - Hugh,Sse h'e^
my son. I U absolve you, if you like, because you're a
stranger and a girl, and consider you a victim-'^
1 m not a victim," I insisted. "I'm only a human
bemg. askmg for a human being's rights "
w£SS^:l?f^°^'-- "^^'^^^^ Who knows
;;i do That is." I corrected, "I know my own."
nw„ • ,?/^°^' One always knows one's own. One's
own nghts are ev«ything one can get. Now you St
get Hugh; but you can get five thousand dolla,^ 1^.3
a lo of money. There are men all over the United States
^d cut off a hand for it. You won't haveTol'S:
W You orfy need to be a good, sensible little girl and
i2l V -f *"P' ^' '^"^^^ I ^^ yieldingfLr^e
tapped his side pocket as he went on speaking "it
My work was lying on the table a few inches away
34
THE HIGH HEART
Leaning forwaid deliberately I put it into the basket,
which I tucked under my arm. I looked at M^^. Broken-
shire, who was leaning forward and looking at me. I
inclined my head with a slight salutation, to which she
did not respond, and turned away. Of bin; I took no
notice.
"So it's war." .
I was half-way to the dining-room when I heard him
say that. As I paused to look back he was still sitting
sidcwise on the edge of the table, s\singing a leg and
staring after me.
"No, sir," I said, quietly. "It takes two to fight, and
I should never think of being one."
"You know, of course, that I shall have no mercy on
you."
"No, sir; I don't."
"Then you can know it now. I'm sorry for you; but
I can't afford to spare you. Bigger things than you have
come in my way — and have been blasted."
Mrs. Erokenshire made a quick little movement be-
hind his back. It told me nothing I ui, icrstood then,
though I was able to interpret it later. I could only say,
in a voice that shook with the shaking of my whole body:
"You couldn't blast me, sir, because — ^because — "
"Yes? Because— what? I should like to know."
There was a robin hopping on the lawn outside and I
pointed to it. "You couldn't blast a Uttie bird like that
with a bombshell."
"Oh, birds have been shot."
Yes, sir ; with a fowling-piece ; but not with a howitzer.
The one is too big; the other is too small."
I was about to drop him a little courtesy when I saw
hin? wink. It was a grotesque, amusing wink that quiv-
35
THE HIGH HEART
wed and twirtedtai it finaUy dosed the left ey. M he
^"z:^. "^"^ "- ^^ ^^ -<^^ ^^
I made my courtesy the deeper, bending my head and
lowermg my eyes so as to spare him the knowledge that
CHAPTER III
" ITE attacked my cotmtiy. I think I could fotpva
1 1 him everything but that."
It was an hour after Mr. and Mrs. Brokenshire had
left me. I was half crying by this time— that is, half
crying in the way one cries from rage, and yet laughing
nervously, in flashes, at the same time. From the weak-
ness of sheer excitement I had dropped to one of the
steps leading down to the Cliff Walk, while Larry Strang-
ways leaned on the stone post. I had met him there as
I was going out and he was coming toward the house.
We couldn't but stop to exchange a word, especially with
his knowledge of the situation. He took what I had to
say with the light, gleaming, non-committal smile whicli
he brought to bear on everything. I was glad of tiiat
because it kept him detached. I didn't want him any
nearer to me than he was.
"Attacked your country? Do you mean England?"
"No; Canada. England is my grandmother; but
Canada's my mother. He said you all despised her,"
"Oh no, we don't. He was trying to put something
over on you."
"Your 'No, we don't' lacks conviction; but I don't
mind you. I shouldn't mind him if I hadn't seen so
much of it."
"So much of what?"
THE HIGH HEART
"Being looked down upon geographically. Of all the
yrm of being proud," I declared, indignantly, "that
wmtA depends on your merely accidental position with
regard to land and water strikes me as the most poor-
spmted. I can't imagine any one dragging himself down
to It who had another rag of a reason for self-respect. As
a matter of fact. I don't beUeve any one ever does The
people I've heard express themselves on the subject--weU
JTl give you an illustration: There was a woman at Gib-
raltat— a major's wife, a big, red-faced woman. Her
name was Arbuthnot-her father was a dean or something
—a big. red-faced woman, with one of those screechy
twangy English voices that cut you like a saw— you know
there are some-a good many-and they don't know it.
Well, she was saying something sneering about Canadians
I was sittmg opposite— it was at a dinner-party— and so
I leaned across the table and asked her why she didn't
like them. She said coloiuals were such dreadful fonn.
I held her with my eye "-I showed him how— " and made
myself small and demure as I said, 'But. dear lady how
clev«- of you! Who would ever have supposed that
you d know that?' My sister Vic pitched into me about
It after we got home. She said the Arbuthnot person
didn t understand what I meant-nor any one else at the
table, they're so awfully thick-sWnned-and that it's
better to let them alone. But that's the kind of person
who —
He tried to comfort me. "They'll come round in time.
One of these days England will see what she owes to her
colonists and do them justice."
"Never!" I declared, vehemently. "It will be al-
ways the same-till we knock the Empire to pieces.
Thentheyllresoectus. Look at the Boer War. Didn't
38
THE HIGH HEART
our m« sacrifice everything to go out that long distanca
—and win battles— and lay down their lives-only to
hav« the English say afterward-especiaUy the anny
people— that they were more trouble than they wer«
worth? It wiU be always the same. When we've given
our last penny and shed our last drop of blood theyH
still teU us we've been nothing but a nuisance. You
may live to see it and remember that I said so. If when
Shakespeare wrote that it's sharper than a serpent's
tooth to have a thankless child he'd gone on to add
that It's the very dickens to have a picturesque, self-
satisfied old grandmother who thinks her children's chil-
dren should give her everything and take kicks instead
of ha'pence for their pay, he'd have been up to date.
Mmd you, we don't object to giving our last penny and
shedding our last drop of blood; we only hate being
abused and sneered at for doing it."
I wanned to my subject as I dabbed fiereely at my eyes.
1 11 teU you what the typical John Bull is like. He's
like those men— big, flabby men they generally are— who'll
be brutes to you so long as you're dvil to them, but wiU
dmib down the minute you begin to hit back. Look at
the way they treat you Americans! They can't do enough
for you— because you snap your fingers in their faces and
•how them you don't care a hang about them. They
come over here, and give you lectures, and marry your-
girls, and pocket your money, and adopt your bad form,
as delightful originality— and respect you. Now that
earls' daughters are beginning to cast an eye on your
milhonaire»-Mrs. Rossiter told me that— they won't
leave you a rag to your back. But with us who've been
faithful and loyal they're all the other way. I can hardly
tdl you the small pin-pricking indignities to which my
* 39
THE HIGH HEART
£?!wM,^ ^"^ ^ '«t'J«^ f°r being Canadians.
And theyU never change. It wiU never be^^ZT
2" It 3^ ^"^ our bodies to be burned, as the Bible
^H f u ^ °*'^'' '^ othemise-not tiU we imitate you
a^^st^^^th^n^thefa.. r^ you W how S^.'^
He stm smiled, with an aloofness in which there was a
a'TuetM^^^- "^^-^'^-tbatyouw^rch"
"I'm not a rebel. I'm loyal to the King. That is
Im loyal to the great Anglc^Saxon ideal of wwS tS
as any other, especially as he's already there. The En^
1^ are only partly Anglo^on. 'LorandNo^"
«>d Dane are they '-^dn't Temiyson say thatr^^
S-T.^ '°c '^''' ^°^^' ^d ^ ^°t that^ Dane Zfl
lot that's Scotch and Irish and rag-tag in thZ But
^t:" r,f ""^ "^^ ^ Anglo!lxo1 ide^r'so to
bloods-and just as we shall be ourselves. It's lil^
Z^w'^'fC '*■' "^' ^^ ^ *^« Christian r^i^s
the thing that saves, and I'm loyal to that Myt^„
-sed to say that it's the fact that EngUsh ^d S^
and Austohans are aU devoted to the same prin^S
^olds us together as an Empire, and not the subs^^S
^di^ant lan,k to a Parhament sitting at Wes^^
And so It IS. We don't always like each other; but t^t
WM sick." I ihall hoin>v»r h. S.j •» r ''^"*> ""e° «» deril
40
THE HIGH HEART
doesn't natter. What does matter is that we should
betray the fact that we don't like each other to outsiders
—and so give them a handle against us."
"You mean that J. Howard should be m a position to
s^with the EngUsh in looking down on you as a Cana.
"Yes, and that the English should give him that posi-
tion. He's an American and an enemy— every Ameri-
^ IS an enemy to England o« fond. Oh yes, he is!
You needn't deny it ! It's something fundamental, deep-
er down than anything you understand. Even tho^e cf
you who like England are hostile to her at heart and would
be glad to see her in trouble. So, I say, he's an American
and M enemy, and yet they hand me, their child and their
fnend, over to him to be trampled on. He's had oppor-
tumties of judging how Canadians are regarded in Eng-
ird, he says-and he assures me it's nothing to be proud
of. Ihat's It. I've had opportunities too— and I have
to admit that he's right. Don't you see? That's what
rarages me. As far as their liking us and our not liking
them is concerned, why, it's all in the family. So long as
It's kept in the family it's like the pick that Louise and
Vic have always had on me. I'm the youngest and the
plainest—"
"Oh, you're the plainest, are you? What on earth are
they like?"
"They're quite good-looking, and they're awfully chic.
But that's m parentheses. What I mean is that they're
always hectoring me because I'm not attractive—"
"Really?"
"I'm not fishing for c<Knpliments. I'm too busy and
too angry for that. I want to go on talking about what
we're talking about."
41
THE HIGH HEART
^«t I want to know why they said you w« «aat.
J^Z^^w^^^.^^^^'^^^y^^- What they hav,
«^ IS this, and It's what Mrs. Rossiter say^-^STt
'■But very attractive to him?"
"No; she didn't say that. She merely admitted tt,»f
her brother Hugh was that man-" *^*
he^Ln^^*^7^*^ ^"*^"8 I ^«d at the time
hej^ t said, and which I tried to ignore:
He s the man in that five htmdred-and I know an
other m another five hundred, which makes ZTiTl
?cS oJTt,T ''l^" *° ' ^^'^ P-enCwhen'
you think of aU the men there are in the world "
As he had never hinted at anything of the kind before
^Twr^r""' '.''**'* "^''*- I'n^ademeun.
e^. It was nothmg, reaUy. It was spoken with that
^een hmi and me-between him and^e^SreS
that was senous-aad yet subconsciously 1^^ onl
ftds on hearing the first few notes. i/J, o^ra „ ^
^Phony, of that arresting phrase which is to^^uo
the hMd I have no need of thee, and the eye sa^ths
-methmgtolienose? We've got samethi^ySen't
got, and you've got something we haZ^^^t. ^y
THE HIGH HEART
•ho*dda't we be appreciative towarf each other, and
make our cx^ge with mutual respect as we do with
trade conunodities?"
dl ^'^P^^^^}y to urge me on to talk that he saii
I^ttw r^?f^ "^' ^""^ youCanadiaJ
got ttat we haven't? Why, we could buy andseU you."
bon toward the oviUzation of the American continent
r!„ J^^ "ir^t- I* <=^ be given; it can be inherited;
It can be caught; but it can't be purchased "
Indeed? What is this elusive endowment ?"
-and I can t tell you what is is. Ever since I've been
hvmg among you I've felt how much we resemUe S
o^hatadifference. I think-mind you^^y tS
^^^\T^ m is a sense of the .<^ I /„„f_
Weresmiplerthanyou; and less intellectual; andooorer
rf c«^; and less, much less, self-analyti;a: ^t"
we ve got a knowledge of what's what that yoi Z£
x^TS;" "f T^- NoneoftheBrokenSiTw
?(^^ 'f- f^ ^^ I '^^ ^. none of their friS •
Tli^ command It with money, and the difference isTke
pv^ them the air of bemg-I'm using Mrs Rossiter'a
S^ Ij^r'"^^'^ -« cLadianfr^
^uced. We just com*-4mt we come the right wav-f
mttout any hooting or tooting or beating of tbp^J^
about .t. Let me make an example of what Mrs. Rossit^
was discussmg this morning. There are lots of SS
gufem my country-as many to the hundred as you'^SS
wed ordered a speaal-brand from the Creator. We
43
THE HIGH HEART
»ow them as you grow ftewen in a garden, at themerw
of the au- and sunshine. You grow yours like ph^
-aon t think I'm bragging—" ^^
He laughed aloud. "Ohnol"
tJ^""; i^ "°*'." ^ ^'''^^- "Yo« asked me a que*.
Jon and I'm trymg to answer it-^d inddentauT to
question^ You've got lots to ofiEer us, and many of ™
«»ne and take it thankfully. What we can offer to y^
.sampler and healthier and less self-oonsdous st^<S
about xt at all, if you could get yourselves down to that
^ \r^^T *° ^ ^*^ °f ^ everlasting striv-
^become. You won't recognize it orlZ it. rf
^. No one ever does. Nations seem to me insane.
Md ruled by msane governments. Don't the English
IVMch the A«stnans. and the Austrians the Russians
and so on? Why on earth should the foot be jeaWS
thmgs-and laughmg at me all the while-^'m off t^
take my walk. We'll get even with J. Howard and ^
the first-class powers some day, and till thea-^ revoir "
fhl f rrf fj:^"* *° »>^ «°d gone some paces into
the fog that had begun to blow in when he cauWto m^
Waitammute. I've something to tell you."
I turned, without going back.
"I'm — I'm leaving."
^wa^^amazed that I retraced a step or two toward
His smile underwent a change. It grew frozen and
steely mstead of being bright with a continuous play
44
THE HIGH HEART
suggesting summer lightning, which had been its usual
quality.
"My time is up at the end of the month-and I've
asked Mr. Rossiter not to ejcpect me to go on."
I was looking for something of the sort sooner or later,
I but now that it had come I saw how lonely I should be.
_ "Oh! Where are you going? Have you got anything
m particular?"
''I|m going as secretary to Stacy Grainger."
"I've some connection with that name," I said, absent-
ly, 'though I can't remember what it is."
"You've probably heard of him. He's a good deal in
the pubhc eye."
"Have you known him long?" I asked, for the sake of
speakmg, though I was only thinking of myself
_ "Never knew him at all." He came nearer' to me.
I ve a confession to make, though it won't be of interest
to you. All the while I've been here, playing with Uttle
Broke Rossiter, I've been-don't laugh— I've been con-
tributing to the press— wot qui whs parlet"
"What about?"
"On, politics and finance and foreign policy and public
thmgs m general. Always had a taste that way. Now
It seems that something I wrote for the Promdence Express
-people read it a good deal— has attracted the attention
of the great Stacy. Yes, te's great, too-J. Howard's
big rival for—"
I began to recall something I had heard. "Wasn't
tiiere a story about him and Mr. Brokenshiie and Mrs
Brokeushire?"
"That's the man. Well, he's noticed my stuff and
written to the editor— and to me, and I'm to go to
him."
45
THE HIGH HEART
IwM Still thinking Of myself and the loss of h^s^
a"^- I hope he's going to pay you weU."
Oh, for me It will be wealth "
fir^Uon'fsC^??''''^^*^*- ''-^^^
He nodded confidently. "I hope so "
the' ^n^ t e"^ *" """^ '^"^^ ''^ ^ ^P«^ -
-c^s^o:!?^*'^^'^' ^•'•^-
If I laughed a little it was to conceal my discomfort at
this abrupt approach to the intimate •"*="'»*<« **
" v™ "tf*^^ T7 ^"^ "^^ °^*'" I ^d. apologetically.
You see my father was one of those poSTw
Canadians who rather overdo the thinVS S
^ should have been Victoria, because' V^^
!?ZT ^"\*^«D"^°fArgyUwasrSJr
2 Sfi^Vf r^.°^** *° ^^^-^^ ^«1 mothei^-and
so the first of us had to be Louise. He couldn't begin on
the queens tdl there was a second one. That's poc^^
wkle I^-I know you'll shout-I'm Ale^ li
th«e'd be^ a fourth she'd have been a Mai^^poor
mother died and the series stopped." ^
He shook hands rather gravely. "Then I shall think
of you as Alexandra." ^^ ^^
"If ywi are going to think of me at all," I managed to
^y. with a httle^^. ..put me down « A^TlSt?
what I've always been called." '
ii
CHAPTER IV
T WAS glad of the fog. It was cool and refreshing; it
1 was also concealing. I could tramp along under its
protection with Uttle or no fear of being seen. Wearing
tweeds, thick boots, and a felt hat, I was prepared for
wet, and as a Canadian girl I was used to open air in al'
weath^. The few stragglers generally to be seen on
the ChflE Walk having rushed to their houses for shelter
I had the rocks and the breakers, the honeysuckle and
the patches of dog-roses, to myself. In the back of my
nund I was fortified, too, by the knowledge that damp-
ness curls my hair into pretty Uttle tendrils, so that if
I did meet any one I should be looking at my best.
The path is like no other in the world. I have often
WMidered why the American writer-up of picturesque bits
didnt make more of it. Trouville has its Plage, and
Bnghton Its King's Road, and Nice its Promenade des
Anglais, but in no other kingdom of leisure that I know
anything about will you find the combination of quaUties
wild and subdued, that mark this ocean-front of Um
island of Aquidneck. Neither will you easily come else-
where so near to a sense of the primitive human struggle
^ the crude social dash, of the war of the rights of man—
Fisherman's Rights, as this coast historicaUy knows them
— agamst encroachment, privilege, and seclusion. As
you crunch the gravel, and press the well-rolled tuif, and
47
THE HIGH HEART
miff the scent of the white and red clover and Queen
Anne's lace that fringe the precipice leaning over the
sea, you feel in the air those elements of conflict that
make drama.
In clinging to the edge of the cliff, in twisting round
every curve of the shore line, in running up hill and down
dale, under crags and over them, the path is, of course,
not the only one of its kind. You will find the same
thing anywhere on the south coast oi England or the
north coast of Prance. But in the sum of human interest
it sucks into the three miles of its course I can think of
nothing else that resembles it. As guaranteeing the
rights of the fisherman it is, so I believe, inalienable public
property. The fisherman can walk on it, sit on it, fish
from it, right into eternity. So much he has secured
from the past history of colony and state; but he has
done it at the cost of making himself off ensive to the gen-
tlemra whose lawns he hems as a seamstress hems a skirt.
It is a hem like a serpent, with a serpent's sinuosity
and grace, but also with a serpent's hatefutaess to those
who can do nothing but accept it as a fact. Since, as a
fact, it cannot be abolished it has to be put up with; and
since it has to be put up with the means must needs be
found to deal with it effectively. Effectively it has been
dealt with. Money, skill, and imagination have been spent
on it, to adorn it, or disguise it, or sink it out of sight.
The architect, the landscape gardener, and the engineer
have aU been called into counsel. On Fisherman's Rights
the smile and the frown are exercised by turns, each with
its phase of ingenuity. Along one stretch of a htindied
yards bland recognition borders the way with roses or
spans the miniature chasms with decorative bridges;
along the next shuddering refinement grows a hedge or
48
THE HIGH HEART
digi a trendi behind ^riiich the obtnudve wayf anr may
psM unseen. But shuddering refinement and bland
recognition alike withdraw into thanselves as far as
broad lawns and lofty terraces permit them to retke,
leaving to the owner erf Fisherman's Rights the enjoy-
ment of ocher and umber rocks and sea and sky and grain-
fields yellowing on far headlands.
It gave me the nearest thing to glee I ever felt in New-
port. It was bracing and open and free. It suggested
comparisons with scrambles along Nova-Scotian shores or
tramps on the moors in Scotland. I often hated the fine
weather; it was oppressive; it was strangling. But a day
like this, with its whifis of wild wind and its handfuls
of salt slashing against eyes and mouth and nostrils, was
not only exhilarating, it was glorious. I was glad, too.
that the prim villas and pretentious chateaux, inost of
than out of proportion to any scale of housekeeping of
which America is capable, could only be descried like
castles in a dream through the swirling, diaphanous drift.
I could be alone to rage and fume— or fly onward with a
speed that was in itself a relief.
I could be alone till, on climbing the slope of a shorn
and wind-swept bluff, I saw a squaie-shouldeied figure
looming on the crest. It was no more than a deepening
of the texture- of the fog, but I knew its Hnes. Skimming
up the ascent with a little ay, I was in Hugh's anns, my
head on his burly breast.
I think it was his burliness that made the most definite
appeal to me. He was so sturdy and strong, and I was
so small and desolate. From the beginning, when he first
used to come near me, I felt his presence, as the Bible
says, like the shadow of a rode in a thirsty land. That
was in my early homesick time, before 1 had seized the
49
r'
,:B
THE HIGH HEART
new way o£ living and the new national point of view.
The £act, too, that, a* I expresied it to myself, I wai in
the Mcond cabin when I had always been accustcmed to
the first, inspired a diaoomfort for which unwittingly I
sought consolation. Nobody thought of me as other
than Mrs. Kostiter's retainer, but this one kindly ^mi ,
I noticed his kindliness ahnost before I noticed him,
just as, I think, he noticed my loneliness ahnost before he
noticed me. He opened doors for me when I went in
or out; he served me with things if he happened to be
there at tea; he dropped into a chair beside me when I
was the only member of a group whom no one spoke to.
If Gladys was of the company I was of it too, with a
nominal footing but a virtual exclusion. The men in the
Rossiter ciicle were of the four hundred and ninety-nine
to whom I wasn't attractive; the women were all civil —
from a distance. Occasionally some nice old lady would
ask me where I came fitom and if I liked my work, or
talk to me of new educational methods in a way which,
with my bringing up, was to me as so much Greek; but
I never got any other sign of friendliness. Only this
short, stoddly built young fellow, with the small, bhie
eyes, ever recognized me as a human being with the aver-
age yearning for human intercourse.
During the winter in New York he never went further
than that. I remembered Mrs. Rossiter's recommenda-
tion and "let him alone." I knew how to do it. He was
not the first man I had ever had to deal with, even if
no one had asked me to marry him. 1 a spted his small,
kindly acts with that shade of discretion which defined
the distance between us. As far as I could observe, he
Wmself had no disposition to cross the lines I set— not
till we moved to Newport.
THE HIGH HEART
There wai a fortnight between our gfuag then and hi*
—a fortnight which seemed to worit a change in him.
The Hugh Brokenshire I met on one of my first rambles
along the cliffs was not the Hugh Bn>kenahii« I had last
seen in Fifth Avenue. Perhaps I was not the same my-
self. In the new surroundings I had missed him— a little.
I will not say that his absence had meant an aching void
to me; but where I had had a friend, now I had none—
•ince I was unable to count Lany Strangways. Had it
not been for this solitude I should have been less receptive
to his comings when he suddenly began to pursue me.
Pnisuit is the only word I can use. I found him every-
where, quiet, deliberate, persistent. If he had been ten
or even five yeara older I could have taken his advances
without uneasiness. But he was only twenty-six and a
dependent. He had no work; apart from his allowance
from his father he had no means. And yet when, on the
day before my chronicle begins, he stole upon me as I
sat in a sheltered nook below the cliffs to which I was
fond of retreating when I had time— when he stole upon
me there, and kissed me and kissed me and kissed me, I
couldn't help confessing that I loved him.
I must leave to some woman who has had to fend for
herself the task of telling what it means when a man
comes to offer her his heart and his protection. It goes
without saying that it means more to her than to the
sheltered woman, for it means things different and more
wtmderftj. It is the expected unexpected come to pass;
it is the impossible achieved. It is not only success; it
is success with an aureole of glory.
I suppose I must be parasitical by nature, for I never
have conceived of life as other than dependent on some
man who would love me and take care of me. Evenwhen
THE HIGH HEART
no wch man ^>pMred and I wai forced oat to Mm my
bread, I looked t^ion the need as temporary only. In the
lonelieat of timet at Mrs. Rossiter's, at periods when I
didn't see a man for weeks, the hero never seemed farther
away than just behind the scenes. I confess to minutes
when I thought he tarried unnecessarily long; I ccofesa
to terrified questionings as to what would h^>pen were
he never to come at all; I confess to solitary watches of
the night in company with fears and tears; but I cannot
confess to anything more than a low burning cf that lamp
of hope which never went out entirely.
When, therefore, Hugh Brokenshire offered me what he
had to offer me I felt for a few minutes— ten, fifteen,
twenty perhaps— that sense of the fruition of the being
which I am sure comes to us but rarely in this life, and
perhaps is a foretaste of eternity. I was like a creatui«
that has long been struggling up to some higher state —
and has reached it.
I am ashamed to say, too, that my first consciousness
came in pictttres to which the dear young man himself
was only incidental. Two scenes in particular that far
ten years past had been only a little below the threshold
of my consciousness came out boldly, like developed
photographs. I was the center of both. In one I saw a
dainty little dining-room, where the table was laid. The
danwsk was beautiful; the silver rich; the glasses crys-
talline. Wearing an inexpensive but eirtremely chic little
gown, I was seating the guests. The other picture was
more dim, but only in the sense that the room was de-
lidously darkened. It had white furnishings, a little
white cot, and toys. In its very center was a bassinet,
and I was leaning over it, wearing a delicate lace peignoir.
Ought I to blush to say that while Hugh stammered
THE HIGH HEART
Ottt U. ImpMdoned dadMEtion. I wm «emg the« two
UblMux tmer^ag from the sute of only h»lf-admowl-
edgeddreaaa into real poMibUity? I dare say. I merely
affinn that it waa M. Since the dominant craving of my
nature wai to have a home and a baby, I saw the baby
and the home before I could realize a husband or a father
or bnng my mind to the definite proposals faltered by
poor Hugh. '
But I did bring my mind to them, with the result of
whidi I have ahtsady given a sufficient indication. Even
in admitting that I loved him I thrust and parried and
postponed. The whole idea was too big for me to grapple
wth on the spur of a sudden moment. I suggested his
talking the matter over with his father chiefly to gain
time.
But to rest in his arms had only a subordinate connec-
tion with the great issue I had to face. It was a joy in
Itself. It was a pledge of the future, even if I were never
to take anything but the pledge. After my shifts and
•taiggles and anxieties I could fed the satisfaction of
knowmg it was in my power to let them aU roU off. If I
were never to do it, if I were to go bade to my unoer-
tamties, this minute would mitigate the trial in advance
I might fight for existence during all the rest of my life
and yet I should still have the bliss of remembering that
some one was willing to fight for me.
He rdeased me at last, since there might be people in
Newport as indifferent to weather as ourselves.
"What happened?" he asked then, with an eagerness
which almost choked the question in its utterance "Was
it awful?"
I was too nearly hysterical to enter on anything like
S3
THE HIGH HEART
a. recital. "It might have been worse," I half laughed
and half sobbed, trying to recover my breath and drv
my eyes. ^
His spirit secuted to leap at the answer. "Do you
mean to say you got concessions &om him— or anythine
like that?" j"""^
^ I couldn't help clinging to the edge of his raincoat
Did you expect me to?"
"I didn't know but what, when he saw you—"
"Oh, but he didn't see me. That was part of the
difficulty. He looked where I was-but he didn't find
anjrthing there."
He laughed, with a hint of disappointment. "I know
what you mean; bat you mustn't be smpiised He'll see
you yet." He clasped me again. "I didn't see you at
first, httle girl; I swear I didn't. You're like that A
fellow must look at you twice before he knows that you're
there; but when he begins to take notice—" I struggled
out of his embrace, while he continued: "It's the same
with all the great things--with pictures and mountains
and cathedrals, and so on. Often thought about it when
we ve been abroad. See something once and pass it by
Next tame you look at it a Httle. Third time it b«ins
to grow on you. Fourth time you've found a wonder.
You re a wonder, little Ahx, do you know it?"
"Oh no, I'm not. I must warn you, Hugh darling,
that I m very prosaic and practical and ordinary. You
mustn't put me or. a pedestal—"
"Put you on a pedestal? You were bom on a pedestal
Ywi re the woman I've seen in hopes and dreams—"
We began to walk on, coming to a little hollow that
*W»ed near enough to the shore to allow of our acram-
Mmg over the rocks to where we could git down among
54
THE HIGH HEART
tw' r^'7' ^^ here below the thickest h.n ^
the fog hae, I could see him in a wav tw ^ ^l °*
impossible on the bluff ^^ "" * ^y *»»* had been
-i"" m" '^°^1'* "^ °^y - the handsome-ugly
a statement I could^SfTfZ".^ « "^^ °^ ^°^'
^:s portrait rCaSj^ Hu^sf ". ^"*"'-
not iU-formed so much asl^weS St^!r^^ '^
to each other becom,-„»Tt, ^* °* proportion
st^ at the same fine ^gl as Sl^S's "^ "^^^
nud-couise to a knoh- ti,« . T^ ^ *' 'Ranged m
long, but hS-way t'itfdeSi!;^^ "^"^^ *° he
upward, making Vh^ST^^ ^\^ "°*'°" t° ««ve
naustaclleSld^.t'jSm^tl^^ T'^' *^
have been apphed wiaTc^r », • ^^'^ ^*^ "^^ht
lip turned ouS S a SS^ft^t^ *?*= *^* ^"''^
in a little faU 1^,^^ th. 2.^"^ *** ^^^^ °^«
lovably good-;aS *'°'' ^^<^ "^^Z
thfSrSraSSnS^ ^^«- -^ ^-Pe<i on
d^ tether in^St're'— --S"£
«» about me was amazingly protective. I fJtfe^
inSL^^: 2 srSnt? -^ ^^«^^ - -<•
talked somewCT ^ ^''^ "^^ *at they had
nurses gov^rtf Elr^^^r, ^1f^' "^^ ^"'«
byrcadinealetterfrrJrrr^o ,./^*^" '^'^ responded
^ It ,0,04 be „n for ,„ t. .oo^t.i! a. ft.^^ ^
THE HIGH HEART
mented, as he folded the letter. "I'ts cabled to Gdd-
boroiigh to say you'd sail on — "
"But, father, how can I sail when I've asked Miss
Adare to marry me?"
To this the reply was the mention of the steamer and
the date. He went on to say, however: " If you've asked
any one to marry you it's absurd, of course. But I'll take
care of that. If you go by that boat you'll reach London
in plenty of time to fit out at your tailor's and still be at
Strath-na-Cloid by the twelfth. In case you're short of
money — "
Apparently they got no further than that. To Hugh's
assertions and objections his father had but one response.
It was a response, as I understood, which confhmted
the younger man like a wall he had neither the force to
break down nor the agility to climb over, and left him
staring at a blank.
Then followed another outburst which to my unaccus-
tomed ear was as wild, sweet music. It wasn't merely
that he loved me, he adored me; it wasn't merely that
I was young and pretty and captivating with a dy, un-
obtrusive fascination that held you enchanted when it
held you at all. I was mistress of the wisdom of the
ages. Among the nice expensively dressed young girls
with whcan he danced and rode and swam and flirted,
Hugh had never seen any one who could "hold a candle"
to me in knowledge of human nature and the world. It
wasn't that I had seen more than they or done more
than they; it was that I had a mind through which every
impression filtered and came out as something of my
own. It was what he had always been looking for in a
woman, and had given up the hope of finding. He
spoke as if he was forty. He was serious himsdf, he
THE HIGH HEART
«^: te had reflected, and held arig««l convictions,
rhough a nch man's son, with corresponding prospects
h«h^ was with the masse, aTK^l^ Sf a
nlin^n °°* *'' ^e tW to be a Socialist now, he ex-
^vmZ"'J"J "^ "^ ^^'^^y y-- befor;,lnTe
so many men of education and position had adootrf tw!
^ of opinion. Infact.hisZconS:ft?b^
EmbLfwtC Lord En^est Hayes, of th^nS
tmba«y, who had spent the preceding summer at New-
Ss^^e W Z^"""^ had go„: in this di^^n
ever smoe he had begun to think. It was hp«.,.c« t
«V .r,A ^^^ °°^^ «^^* "« <=«^t f°>- being twentv-
s« and a man "the dear boy went on earnestly '^^a
Sfv^^ *• «"" *^ I ought to quit being a S^i
^t bemuse he tells me tc^^ else he ^-t ttoiS
I found the opportunity for which I had been looking
A^nghisjmpassioned rhapsody. TTxe^eSx T^e
Goldboroughs gave me that kind of chiU about ^L^
which the mist imparted to the hands and face
57
THE HIGH HEART
"You know them an very wdl," I said, wben I ioaai
an opening in which I could speak.
"Oh yes." he admitted, indifferently. "Known them
all my life. Father represented Meek & Brokenshire in
England till my grandfather died. Goldborough used to
be an impecunious chap, land poor, till he and father
b^iaa to pull together. Father's been able to give him
tips on the market, and he's given father^ Well, dad's
always had a taste for English swells. Never coidd stand
the Continental kind— gilt gingerbread he's called 'em—
and so, well, you can see."
I admitted that I could see, going on to ask what the
Goldborough family consisted of.
There was Lord Leatherhead, the eldest son; then
there were two younger sons, one in the army and one
preparing for the Church; and there were three girls.
"Any of the daughters married?" I ventured, timidly.
There was nothing forced in the indifference with which
he made his explanations. Laura was married to a
banker named Bell; Janet, he thought he had heard, was
engaged to a chap in the Inverness Rangers; Cecilia—
Cissie they usuaUy called hei>-was to the best of his
knowledge stifl wholly free, but the best of his knowledge
did not go far.
I pumped up my courage again. " Is she-tuoe?"
"Oh, nice enough." He reaUy didn't know nmdi
about her. She was generally away at school when he
had been at Goldborough Castle. When she was there
he hadn't seen more than a long-legged, gawky girl, rather
good at tennis, with red hair hanging down her back.
Satisfied with these replies, I went on to tell him of
my interview witii his father an hour or two before. Of
this he seized on ooe point with some ecstasy
S8
THE HIGH HEART
So you told hiin you'd take mel Oh, Alix-roAl"
Jl« «cWt«» was a sigh of reUef as weU iTS^pt-
«*. I could) smile at it because it was so tovSiT^
^rrr;a?S"", " "^ ^"^ - ag^ i^^
freed my^ however. I said, with a show of finrmess-
rj2f:^^?:^:„^.-^^-'^= •"'tit-snot What
sailiTto^SLi"^'"^"'^**"^*^-' But if you
"I'm still not obUged to accept you-to^y."
But If you mean to accept me at all— "
•'BSwjr<rT *° ^**^* y°"~^ ^ eoes wen."
^ aut what do you mean by that?"
I mean-^f your family should want me."
. ""^^ feel his clasp relax as he said: "Oh. if vo,,'™
gomg to wait for that!" «JJi. if you re
r detached myself altogether bom his embrace pre-
tendmg to arrange my skirts about mv feet T^l'J^
t^^ his fingers interlocked^; dbo^ on S S
hiskmd young face disconsolate. ^'
When I talked to your father " T t^^ *
Marriage doesnt concern a man and a woman alnnl
It concerns a family-sometimes two" =
His ay came out with the explosive fo«» of • stowly
S9
THE HIGH HEART
eatheriag gRMn. "Oh, lot, Alix!" He went on to «x-
postulate: "Can't you see? If we wete to go now and
buy a lioenae— and be married by the fiist det^yman we
met — ^the family couldn't say a word."
"Exactly; it's just what I do see. Since you want it
I could force myself on them— the word is your father'a—
and they'd have no choice but to accept me."
"WeU, then?"
"Hugh, dear, I— I can't do it that way."
"Thai what way could you do it?"
"I'm not sore yet. I haven't thought of h. I only
know in advance that even if I told you I'd many you
against— against all their wishes, I couldn't keep my
promise in the end."
"That is," he said, bitterly, "you think more of them
than you do of me."
I put my hand on his clasped fingers. "Nonsense.
I— I love you. Don't you see I do? How could I help
loving you when you've been so kind to me? But mar-
riage is always a serious thing to a woman; and when it
comes to marriage into a family that would look on me
as a great misfortune— Hugh, darling, I don't see how I
could ever face it."
" I do," he declared, promptly. " It isn't so bad as you
think. Families come round. There was Tracy Allen.
Married a manicure. The Mens kicked up a row at
first — wouldn't see Tracy and all that; but now — "
"Yes, but, Hugh, I'm not a manicure."
"You're a nursery governess."
"By accident — and a little by misfortune. I wasn't
a nursery governess when I first knew your sister."
"But what difference does that make?"
"It makes this difference: that a manicure would prob-
60
S,
THE HIGH HEART
ably not think of herself as your equal. She'd expect
coldness at first, and be prepared for it."
"Well, couldn't you?"
"No, because, you see, I'm your equal."
He hunched his big shoulders impatiently. "Oh, Alix,
I don't go into that. I'm a Socialist. I don't care what
you are."
"But you see I do. I don't want to expose myself to
being looked down upon, and perhaps despised, for the
rest of my life, because my family is quite as food as your
own."
He turned slowly from peering into the fog-bank to
fix on me a look of which the tenderness and pity and
increduUty seemed to stab me. I felt the helplessness of
a sane person insisting on his sanity to some one who
believes him mad.
"Don't let us talk about those things, darling little
Alix," he begged, gently. "Let's do the thing in style,
like Tracy Allen, without any flummery or fluff. What's
family— <inoe you get away from the idea? When I sink
it I should think that you could afford to do it too. If
I take you as Tracy .Allen took Libby Jaynes-that was
her name, I remember now— not a very pretty girl— but
if I take you as he took her, and you take me as she took
Tiim — "
" But, Hugh, I can't. If I were Libby Jaynes, it's pos-
sible I could; but as it is — "
And in the end he came round to my point of view.
That is to say, he appreciated my unwillingness to reward
Mrs. Rossiter's kindness to me by creating a scandal,
and he was not without some admiration for what he
called my "magnanimity toward his old man" in hesitat-
ing to drive him to extremes.
6i
THE HIGH HEART
And yet it was Hugh himself who drove him to a-
tremes, over questions which I harfly raima. That Was
some ten days later, when Hugh refused point-blank to
«ul on the ^earner his father had selected totake him on
the way to Strath-na-Cloid. 1 was. of comse. not presen
a. the interview, but having heard of it fnwi Hugh, and
g^t his account cor.-oborated by Ethel Rossiter I can
aescnbe it much as it took place.
vriT "T^ ^T.' ^^^' ^^^ I "t^ "gained with
Mrs. Ros^ter. My marching orders, expected from hour
«us delay to me some four days after that scene in the
breakfast loggia which had left me in a state of curiosity
and suspense. '
I JX^^'^f T" *°, think that if he insisted on your
eavmg it would make Hugh's asking you to many him
too much a matter of importance "
^d doesn't he himself consider it a matter of im-
nl»^"' ^^^. ^^^ a tress of her brown hair into
place. "No. I don't think he does."
Perhaps nothing from the beginning had made me
more inwardly indignant than the simplicity of this reply
1 had m^gmed him raging against me in his heart and
tomung deep, dark plans to destroy me
"It would be a matter of importance to most people •
: said, trying not to betray my feeling of offense.
h«if^*•^'^^'' ^'■^^^'" ^"- ^°^^ contented
^U with leplymg. stm occupied with her tress of
It was the confidential hour of the morning in her bie
chmtzy room. The maid having departed. I had be^
answermg notes and was stiU sitting at the desk It
62
THE HIGH HEART
WM the first time she had broached the subject in the
four days which had been to me a period of so much rest-
lessness. Wondering at this detachment, I had the bold-
ness to question her.
"Doesn't it seem important to you?"
She threw me a glance over her shoulder, turning back
to the mirror at once. "What have I got to do with it?
It's father's affaii^-and Hugh's."
"And mine, too, I suppose?" I hazarded, interroga-
tivdy.
To this she said nothing. Her silence gave me to
understand what so many other Uttle things impressed
upon me— that I didn't count. What Hugh did or didn't
do was a matte- for the Brokenshires to feel and for J
Howard Brokenshire to deal with. Ethel Rossiter her-
self was neither for me nor against me. I was her nursery
governess, and useful as an unofficial companion-secretary.
As long as it was not forbidden she would keep me in
that capacity; when the order came she would send me
away. As for anything I had to suffer, that was my own
lookout. Hugh would be managed by his father, and
from that fate there was no appeal. There was nothing,
therefore, to worry Mrs. Rossiter. She could dismiss the
whole matter, as she presently did, to discuss her troubles
over the rival attentions of Mr. Millinger and Mr. Scott,
Md to protest against their making her so conspicuous.
She had the kindness to say, however, just as she was
leaving the house for Bailey's Beach:
"I don't talk to you about this affair of Hugh's be-
cause I really don't see much of father. It's his business,
you see, and nothing for me to interfere with. With that
woman there I hardly ever go to their house, and he
ooeaa t often come here. Her mother's with them, toc^
63
THE HIGH HEART
hut oow-tbut; old Mn. Billing-* hamv U «^ .x.
WM one-«nd with all th« th^ T^'^ *'* *«»
same." I pian««i «„ *„ ^J; T. P" ""• 3**** the
"~"=i i giancea up to say. " TelT mo «•« . ■
I Sr^!''^ ^^ ""* ""'^^^ ^ ^y couatrv?"
_ I was begmmng with the words, "Whv v« " „k«, u
interrupted me. ^' '^^ ^''®" ^e
"Think."
64
THE HIGH HEART
"Yott attach some importance to birth. Yes; ao do
we here-when it goes with money. Without the basis
of that support neither you nor we give what is so deli-
aously caUed birth the honor of a second thoueht "
"Oh yes, we do-"
"When it's your only asset— yes; but you do it alone.
No one else pays it any attention."
I colored. "That's rather cruel—"
"It's not a bit more cruel than the fut. Take your
case and mine as an illustration. As the estimate of
birth goes m this country. I'm as weU bom as the ma-
lonty. My ancestors were New-Englanders. country
doctors and lawyers and ministers-especially the minis-
tere. But as long as I haven't the cash I'm only a tutor
and eat at the second table. Jim Rossiter's forebears were
much the same as mine; but the fact that he has a hun-
dred thousand dollars a year and I've haidly got two is
the only thing that would be taken into consideration by
any one m either the United Kingdom or the United
States. It would be the same if I descended from Cm-
saders. If I've got nothing but that and my character
to recommend me-" He raised his hand and snapped
his fingers with a scornful laugh. "Take your case," he
hurried on as I was about to speak. "You're probably
like me, sprung erf a line of professional men—"
"And soldiers," I interrupted, proudly. "The first of
my family to settle in Canada was a General Adare in
the micdle of the seventeen hundreds. He'd been in the
gamson at Halifax and chose to remain in Nova Scotia "
T^^^ ^^^ "^^ ^°^ boastfulness in my tone as I
added, 'He came of the famous Fighting Adares of the
County Limerick."
"And aU that isn't worth a tow of pins-except to
6t
THE HIGH HEART
y«wclf. If you were the daughter of a miner who'd
^ck rt rich you'd b« . candidate for the BritiA p^
•Ke. Y«»d be received in the best hou«, in Loii^
rit*^' "^ ' "^ -^ °° «»«--" «y «
"As it is." I said, tremulously. "I'm just a nursery
Eovwness, and there's no getting away from the fact."
Not until you get away from the condition "
So that when I told Hugh Brokenahiie the other dav
that m pomt of family I was his equal—"
"He probably didn't believe you."
The memory of Hugh's look still rankled in me. "No
I don't think he did." '
"Of course he didn't. As the world counts-as we aU
count-ao poor family, however noble, is the equal of
fZ,r^ T'^' ^^ *^-" '^^ ^-^ thaT^s-
formatjon of his smUe from something sunny to some-
"^ t' T ? ^T ^'"* *° ""^ «"8l> Brokenshiie-"
Which I do." I mterposed. defiantly.
it hC^f y°^^ enter into his game as he enters into
Sc^" "*, ^'^"f'^^lf^^ doing the big ron^-
W T^'u * """"^^^ * P"* P'J ^ho has nothing
but herself as guaranty. That your great-grandfather
was a general and one of the— what did you caU them?-
Pightmg Adares of the County Cork would mean no
more tohun than if you said you were descended from
the Lacedffimonmns and the dragon's teeth. As far as
ttat goes, you might as well be an immigrant girl fi«m
Sw«ien; you might as well be a cook. He's stooping to
p^ uphrs diamond from the mire, instead of buying it
from a jeweler's window. Very well, then, you must let
him stoop. You mustn't try to underestimate his con-
66
THE HIGH HEART
dwceoiJon. You mtutn't ten him you wm once in a
jeweler's windonr, and only fell into the mire by chance—"
"Becau«e," I imiled, "the nure U where I belong, until
I'm taken out of it."
"We belong." he itated, judicially, "where the w ,1
puts us. If we're wiae we'll stay there— till we can ? i..f ;
Ihe world's own temu for getting out."
C3IAPTER V
T COME at last to Hugh's defiance of his father. It took
1 place not only without my incitement, but without my
knowledge. No one could have been more sick with mis-
givmg than I when I learned that the boy had left his
father's house and gone to a hotel. If I was to blame at
aU It was in mentioning from time to time his condition
ctt dependence.
"You haven't the right to defy your father's wishes "
Isaid to him, "so long as you're Uving on his money.
What It comes to is that he pays you to do as he tells
you. If you don't do as he tells you, you're not eamine
your allowance honestly."
The point of view was new to him. "But if I was
making a living of my own.'"
"Ah, that would be different."
"You'd marrj' me then?"
I considered this. "It would still have to depend." I
was obliged to say at last.
"Depend on what?"
"On the degree to which you made yourself your own
master."
"I should be my own master if I earned a good income "
I admitted this.
"Very well," he declared, with decision. "IshaUeam
68
THE HIGH HEART
I didn't question his power to do that I had heard
so much of the American man's ability to make money
that I took it for granted, as I did a bird's capacity for
ffight. As far as Hugh was concerned, it seemed to me
more a matter of intention than of opportunity. I
reasoned that if he made up his mind to be independent,
independent he would be. It would rest with liim. It
was not of the future I was thinking so much as of the
present; and in the present I was chiefly dodging his plea
that we settle the matter by taking the law into our own
hands.
"It - on't be as bad as you think," he kept urging.
"Father would be sure to come round to jrou if you were
my wife. He never quarrels with the accomplished fact.
That's been part of the secret of his success. He'll fight
a thing as long as he can; but when it's carried over
his head no one knows better than he how to make the
best of it."
"But, Hugh, I don't want to have him make the bcac
of it that way— at least, so long as you're not your own
master."
One day at the Casino he pointed out Libby Jaynes
to me. I was there in charge of the children, and he
managed to slip over from the tennis he was playing for
a word:
"There she is— that girl with the orange-silk sweater."
The pjint of his remark was that Libby J,?ynes was
one of a group of half a dozen people, and was apparently
received at Newport like anybody else. The men were
m flannels; the women in the short skirts and easy atti-
tudes developed by a sporting life. The silk sweater in
Its brilliant hues was to the Casino grounds as the parrot
to BraaKan woods. Libby Jaynes wasn't pretty; her
69
THE HIGH HEART
lips were too widely parted and her teeth too big- b«rt
her figure was adapted to the costume of the day. md her
Ti^ I ^T^^ P"""^^- She wore both with a
decided due. She was the orange spot where thei« was
another of purple and another of pink and another of
t^T^'^'^- -^^^ as I could see no one remem-
bered that she had ever rubbed men's finger-nails in the
barbers room of a hotel, and she certainly betrayed no
rf^^f ^*7^'''^t Hugh begged me to observe. If
I liked I could within a year be a member of this privi-
teged troop instead of an outsider looking on. " You'd
be just as good as she is," he declared with a n^vet^ I
couldn t help taking with a smile.
I was about to say. " But I don't feel inferior to her as
It IS, when I recalled the queer look of increduUty he
had given me on the beach.
And then one morning I heard he had quarreled with
tos father. It was Hugh who told me first, but Mrs
Rossiter gave me all the details within an hour afterward"
Aa^^^,^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^ * dimier-party in honoi^
of old Mrs. Bilhng which liad gone off with some success.
The guests havmg left, the family ha. gathered in Mil-
dred s sittmg-room to give the invalid an account of the
entertainment. It was one of those domestic reunions
on wnioh the household god insisted from time to time
so that his wife should seem to have that support froiti
j^-^:s children which both he and she knew she didn't have
ine Jack Brokenshires were there, and Hugh, and Ethel
Rossiter.
It was exactly the scene for a tragi-comedy, and had
the kind of settmg theatrical producers liked i>efore the
^aTu'TTI "^^ *^' °°^ °^ allegorical simplicity.
Mildred had the best comer room up-stairs, though like
70
THE HIGH HEART
the rest of the house, her surroundings suffered from her
fathers taste for the Italianate and over-rich. Heavy
dark cabinets, heavy dark chairs, gilt candelabra, and
splendidly brocaded stuffs threw the girl's wan face and
weak figure into prominence. I think she often sighed
for pretty papers and cretonnes, for Sevres and colored I
pnats, but she took her tapestries and old masters and
majohca as decreed by a power slie couldn't question
When everything was done for her comfort the poor thing
had nothing to do for herself.
The room had the further resemblance to a scene on
the stage smce, as I was given to understand, no one felt
the reahty of the friendliness enacted. To aU J How-
ard's children it was odious that he should worship a
woman who was younger than Mildred and very Uttle
older than Ethel. They had loved their mother, who had
beenpUin. They resented the fact that their father had
got hold of her money for himself, had made her un-
happy, and had forgotten her. That he should have be-
come infatuated with a girl who was their own con-
temporary would have been a humiliation to them in any
case; but when the story of his fight for her became
pubhc property, when it was the joke of the Stock Ex-
c-iange and the subject of leading articles in the press
they cou^d only hold their heads high and cairy the situa-
tion with bravado. It was a proof of hi. grip on New
iork that he could put Editha Billing where he wished
to see her, and find no authority, social or financial, bold
enough to question him; it was equally a proof of his
dominance in his family that neither son nor daughter
owild treat his new wife with anything but deference,
bhe was the maUresse en tttre to whom even the princes
and prmcesses had to bow
^ 71
!ii:
THE HIGH HEART
They wm bowing on this evening by treating old Mrs.
!r, , .^ ^^ "^^^^ °f the favorite she could reason-
ably ckm this homage, and no one refused it buTZr
Hugh. He turned his back on it. MildredT S
S^ .1 *° ^ '^'"^ °^ ^hat he caUed a flatted
riSIT]'';.'^*"'^'"'''^- That went on in the S
nchly hghted room behind him. where the otheHTt
about, pretending to be gay.
Then the match went into the gunpowder all at once.
T Wn !S^ r*^ ^}^ ^^^ ^^°^e has been pleasant,"
a farewell to Hugh. He's sailing on—"
^^Hugh merely said over his shoulder. "No, father; I'm
raS: °°' ^ ^ he had not been inter-
"He's sailing on — "
"No, father; I'm not."
h;I!!r Z"^ °T° **^^^ ^ ""Sh's tone any mote than in
his parent's. I gathered from Mrs. Rossit«- that dlp^
phem^ would be struck dead. Mentally they stood off,
too, lie the choms in an opera, to see the great tragedy
acted to the end without interference of thek^. H
Brokenshire, who was fingering an extinct cigar, twid^^
eaned forward m exatement. Mrs. Brokenshire affected
to he^ nothing and arranged her five rows of pearls
Mrs. BUhng, wh«n Mrs. Rossiter described as a S^
with lace on her head and diamonds round her shrunken
'.f^fS'-'i
THE HIGH HEART
neck, looked from one to another through her lorgnette,
which she fixed at last on her son-in-law. Ethel Rossiter
kept herself detached. Knowing that Hugh had been
riding for a fall, she expected him now to come his cropper.
It caused some surprise to the lookers-on that Mr.
Brokenshire should merely press the electric bell. "Tell
Mr. SpeUman to come here," he said, quietly, to the foot-
man who answered his ring.
Mr. SpeUman appeared, a smooth-shaven man of in-
definite age, with dark shadows in the face, and cadaver-
ous. His master instructed him with a word or two.
There was silence during the minute that followed the
man's withdrawal, a silence ominous with expectation.
When SpeUman had returned and handed a long envelope
to his employer and withdrawn again, the suspended
action was renewed.
Hugh, who was playing in seeming unconcern with the
tassel of MUdred's dressing-gown, had given no attention
to the small drama going on behind him.
"Hugh, here's father," Mildred whispered.
Her white face was drawn; she was fond of Hugh; she
seemed to scent the catastrophe. Hugh continued to
play with the tassel without glancing upward.
It was not J. Howard's practice to raise his voice or
to speak with emphasis except when the occasion de-
manded it. He was very gentle now as his hand slipped
over Hugh's shoulder.
"Hugh, here's your ticket and your letter of credit.
I asked SpeUman to see to them when he was in New
York."
The young man barely turned his head. "Thank
you, father; but I don't want them. I can't go over—
because I'm going to marry Miss Adare."
73
THE HIGH HEART
Billing, turning h^ W, JT^ F^ "^ ^'^^ Mn.
veiope tail Hugh continued to play with the t..ll^^
. P°; "'•^e Howard Biokenshire w/ ^L^l^ ^'
;ng stepped back a pace or two helid^hf^:. "*''"
"What did you say, Hughr ^"^ '^'* ^°"'*'
The answer was quite distinct "T «.m t
to marry Miss Adare" "^"^ I was going
"Who's that?"
«^T"e™er'1:J'v'T"''f«-- She's Ethel's nur.-
•■ Sn ''"' ^ ?.°"^''* *''^' ^^ °^ ^d done with "
Oh, are you? Well, so am I Thp r«Mi i.
expecting you for the iwelfT-- ^"^'^''^""^hs «">
■'^e Goldboroughs can go to—"
74
THE HIGH HEART
an Idea he would have retired gracefully, waiting for a
[ °«»« movement opportunity, had it not been for old
Mrs. BiUing's lorgnette.
It will perhaps, not interrupt my narrative too much
If I say here that of all the important women he knew he
wasmosta&aidofher. She had coached him when he was '
th^T Vu" "^^ '^ ^ estabUshed young woman of
the world She must then have had a certain Uauti du
dtabte and tliat nameless thing which men find excitine
1^ u'^r "t" °^ '^'°^' °^^ ^^^ «^ fight wMe
she holds the stakes, and I can believe it. Her history
was said to be full of dramatic episodes, though I nev«r
knew what they were. Even at sixty, which was the
age at whicli I saw her, she had that kind of presence
which chaUenges and dares. She was ugly and hook-
nosed and withered; but she couldn't be overlooked
To me she suggested that Madame Poisson who so ca:^
ftiUy prepared her daughter to become the Marquise de
P^padour. Stacy Grainger, I believe, was the Louis
XV. of her earlier plans, though, like a bom strategist, she
changed her methods when reasons arose for doing so I
shall return to this later in my story. At present I only
want to say that I do not beUeve that Mr. Brokenshire
would have pushed things to an issue that night had her
lorgnette not been there to provoke him
"Has it occurred to you, Hugh." he asked, in his soft- .
est ton^. on reaching a stand before the chimney which
was filled with dwarfed potted palms, "that I pay you an
allowance of six thousand doUars a year?"
Hugh continued to play with the tassel of Mildred's
gown. Yes father; and as a Socialist I don't think it
ngflt. I ve been coming to the decision that—"
75
ill
THE HIGH HEART
-IX-TdTp J1L^r JT «« Sod."* ««■
d^ir a,d leave pTMaS. ,' ti"*^ ^"^ *«^ »
Mildred whispered: "Oh. Hi i," k-
h^ds in-hll'^"^^-/ hunched podtion!^
ful to the company ^ ^""'^ ««* ""Pect-
«^*r^°rd:::s^s^:"'-<^«^.-i«^^
S^T"- °^ ^'^^ ^•"<^ air £r^,^-
shaV^^aStofS^^L^?' °^-- ^*^-. t— I
Hugh, yota: expression 'sha'n't k« 1 1
not in the vocabul^th wwl V^ ^l^le to obey' i,
"But Jf o ;« 4.1. wnicn i m familiar."
But It s m the one with which I am "
It in your memory You'Ilftn^ mi. '^- ^ io Sx
for it." ^^ ^°""fi«dyou'Uhavealotatuse
?6 '
THE HIGH HEART
"Don't be anpertinent"
"I'm not impertinent. I'm itating a fact. I ask
every one here to remember that name—"
"We needn't bring any one else into this foolish busi-
ness. Its between you and me. Even so, I wish to have
no argument."
"Nor I."
"Then in that case we undf itand each other. You'll
oe with the Goldboroughs for tne twelfth—"
Hugh spoke very distinctly: "Father-rm-not—
going."
fai the silence that foUowed one could hear the tickine
« the mantelpiece clock.
"Then may I ask where you are going?"
Hugh raised himself from his sprawling attitude, hold-
mghis bulky young figure erect. "I'm going to earn a
&>me one, perhaps old Mrs. Billing, laughed. The
father contmued to ^ with great if dangerous courtesy,
at ^t?" ' interesting. And may I ask
"At what I can find."
"That's more interesting stiU. Earning a Hving in
New York >s like the proverbial looking for the n^e
m ttie haystack. The needle is there, but it take^"
Very good eyesight to detect it. All right, dad. I
shall be on the job."
"Good! And when do you propose to begin?"
It had not been Hugh's intention to begin at any time
m particular, but, thus chaUenged, he said, boldly, "To-
morrow.
«JT!h*,!' excellent. But why put it off so long? I
should thmk you'd start out-to-night."
77
THE HIGH HEART
r>e "Citing ^^, ^ *^, rf *^.r** **
.t did justice to a sporting Eon 2 T^.h^fl'^ '^^
*•» story on the fonoJi!^ "•■"auon. As Hugh told me
S,"^^ throwing the words'^rSaST^'
;;A11 right father. Since you wish it-"
defy your wishes dad I ™f t^ °bhqaely. " I don't
aftwenty-^*trii^„/^^^--theright asaman
yourself God—" '"'°^^e. If you wouldn't make
The handsome hand went im "w .«
that, if you please^ rH* ^^1 .^* " "°* *^ about
n>atter ^y S^' liZr1^''°l°^ "^"^^ «»
iathesituationTwhichw'^ ^°"^''* that if I were
be-gettiag b^y S^m^f ^^ ^'^ ^'ourself, I should
he had the power to ^.e ^7^.-^7'^^ ^
father, aU the same "He Ir^ ?*°^ ""^"y-
Where each of tr^aonS slrSu^l °" *"•' ^^
Passion of hoiror-that is ^thT),l appropnate ex-
lady Billing, who S L^lf^ 1^'''^**°" °^ ^''^ °Jd
nodded app«,vdof To mu'lspX'*^c!S, *° ^ ^^'^•
one," Hugh continued «C,n "^^^ °"°^ ""^ht, every
the door. '=°°*'°"^' «^My. and made his way tow^
78
THE HIGH HEART
Hughl Hughiel You're not going away like that'"
Hereteaced his steps to the couch, where he stooped.
pr«»sedhui8u.ters thin fingers, and kissed her. Indobjt
so he was able to whisper: ^
<;h!!i?^'* ^°^' ^""^ ''""• Going to be all right.
Shall be a man now. See you soon again." Having
raised himself, he nodded once more. "Good night
every one." "'I5"W
Mrs. Rossiter said that he was so much like a young
fellow gmng to his execution that she couldn't respond
by a word. ^
Hugh tiben marched up to his father and held out his
hand. Good mght, dad. We needn't have any ill-
feelmg even if we don't agree."
But the Great Dispenser didn't see him. An imposin-r
figure standing with his hands behind his back, he kept
his fingers clasped. Looking thixmgh his son as if he
^^ more than air. he remarked to the company in
"I don't think I've ever seen Daisy Burke appear
^^^xx'^^ ^'^ *°-'^«'^*- S^«'^ "s^y «> badly
where Mrs. Brokenshir^-whom Ethel Rossiter described
as a rigid, exquisite thing staring off into vacancy-sat on
a man upright chair. "What do you think, darling?"
tw*?^"^^ ^^ *•"* ^"^y *^"g *° "^y to the hint
that had thus been given them, and doing their best to
discuss the merits and demerits of Daisy Burke, as he
stood m the big, square hall outside, wondering where he
should seek shelter.
MICTOCOrY >I$01UTI0N TiST CHA«T
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2)
128
L2J
■ 3.2 — „„
I™ 12.2
13.6 n^H
^ 1^
1.8
K^l^i^
^ -APPLIED IIVHGE In
^^ 1653 Easi Main StrMi
^■S Rochesler. Ne* York 14609 uS*
■.^^ ('16) 482 - 0300 - Phone
^S (716) 288 - 5989 - Fa»
CHAPTER VI
■ryHAT Hugh did in the end was simple. Finding
» » the footman who was accustomed to valet him he
oJ^toed han to bring a supply of hnen and some suit^ to
a certam hotel early on the following morning. He then
P"i°°/ ^i"* "^^W'a* ^d a cap and left the house.
ITie first few steps from the door he closed behind him
gave him, so he told me next day, the strangest feeUng he
f^,,^T,?^^'^- ^« ^^ consciously v^ta^g
forth mto hfe without any of his usual supports. What
ttose supports had been he had never realized tiU then
He had always been stayed by some one else's authority
and buoyed all round by plenty of money. Now he felt
todiange the sunile as he changed it himself, as if he had
been thrown out of the nest before having leamt to
fly. As he walked resolutely down the dark driveway
toward Ochre Point Avenue he was mentaUy hovering
and balancmg and trembling, with a tendency to flop
There was no longer a downy bed behind him; no longer
^ vTu* ^^ *° ^^^ him his daily woim. Tie outl<x.k
which had been one thing when he was within that im-
posmg, many-lighted mansion became another now that
Was turning his back on it permanently and in the
_ TWs he confessed when he had surprised me by anoear-
mg at the breakfast loggia, where I was having my c^
80
THE HIGH HEART
with Kttle Gladys Rossiter somewhere between half past
eight and nine. He was not an early riser, except when
the tide enticed him to get up at some unusual hour to
take his dip, and even then he generally went back to bed
To see him coming through the shrubbery now, carefuUy
dressed, pallid and grave, half told me his news before he
had spoken.
Luckily Gladys was too young to follow anything we
said, so that after having joyfully kissed her uncle Hugh
she went on with her bread and milk. Hugh took a cup
of coflfee, sitting sidewise to the table of which only one
end was spread, while I was at the head. It was the
hour of the day when we were safest. Mrs. Rossiter
never left her room before eleven at earUest, and no one
else whom we were afraid of was likely to be about.
"Well, the fat's all in the fire, little Alix," were the
words m which he announced his position. " I'm out on
my own at last."
I could risk nothing in the way of tenderness, partly
because of the maid who was coming and going, and
partly because that was something Gladys would under-
stand. I tried to let him see by my eyes, however, the
sympathy I felt. I knew he was taking the new turn of
events soberly, and soberly, with an immense semi-
maternal yearning over him, I couldn't help taking it
myself.
He told his tale quietly, with ahnost no interruption
on my part. I was pleased to note that he expressed
nothing m the way of recrimination toward his father.
With the exception of an occasional fling at old Mrs.
Billing, whom he seemed to regard as a joss or a bottle
imp, he was temperate, too, in his remarks about every-
body else. I liked his sporting attitude and told him so.
8t
I Hi
THE HIGH HEART
"Oh, there's nothing sporting in it," he threw off with
a kind of serious carelessness. "I'm a man; that's all.
As I look back over the past I seem to have been
a doll."
I asked him what were his plans. He said he was
going to apply to his cousin, Andrew Brew, of Boston,
going on to tell me more about the Br^ws than I had
ever heard. He was surprised that I knew nothing of
the important h' ■?" of Brew, Borrodaile & Co., of Boston,
who did such £ miportant business with England and
Europe in general. I replied that in Canada all my con-
nections had been with the law, and with Service people
in England. I noticed, as I had noticed before in saying
things like that, that, in common with most American
business men, he looked on the Anny and Navy as in-
ferior occupations. There was no money in either.
That in itself was sufficient to condemn them in the eyes
of a gentleman.
I forgot to be nettled, as I sometimes had been, because
of finding myself so deeply immersed in his interests.
Up to that minute, too, I had had no idea that he had
so much pride of birth. He talked of the Brews and the
Brokenshires as if they had been Bourbons and Hohen-
zollems, making me feel a veritable Libby Jaynes never
to have heard of them. Of the Brews in particular he
spoke with reverence. There had been Brews in Boston,
he said, since the year one. Like all other American
families, as I came to know later, they were descended
from three brothers. In Norfolk and Suffolk they had
been, so I guessed— though Hugh passed the subject over
with some vagueness— of comparatively' humble stock,
but under the American flag they had acquired money,
a quasi-nobility and coats of arms. To hear a tnnti boast-
8a
THE HIGH HEART
ing, however modestly — and he was modest — of these
respectable nobodies, who had simply earned money
and saved it, made me blush inwardly in such a way
that I vowed never to mention the Fighting Adares
again.
I could do this with no diminution of my feeling for
poor Hugh. His artless glory in a line of ancestry of
which tie fame had never gone beyond the shores of
Massachusetts Bay was, after all, a harmless bit of vanity.
It took nothing away from his kir ^is good inten-
tions, or his solid worth. When he i. 1 T.ie hov.' I should
care to live in Boston I replied that I should like it very
much. I had always heard of it as a pleasant city of
English characteristics and affiliations.
Wherever ho was, I told him, I should be at home —
if I made up my mind to marry him.
"But you have made up your mind, haven't you?" he
asked, anxiously.
I was obliged to reply with frankness, "Not quite,
Hugh, because — "
"Then what's the use of my getting into this hole,
if it isn't to be with you?"
"You mean by the hole the being, as you call it. out
on your ov.ti? But I thought you did that to be a Social-
ist — and a man."
"I've done it because father won't let me marry you
any other way."
"Then if that's all, Hugh—"
"But it isn't all," he interrupted, hastily. "I don'S
say but v/hat if father had given tis his blessing, and
come down with another six thousand a year — we could
hardly scrub along on less — I'd have taken it and been
thankful. But now that he hasn't — well, I can see that
83
THE HIGH HEART
it's all for the best. It's— it's brought me out, as you
might say, and forced me to a decision."
I harked back to the sentence in which he had broken
in on me. "If it was all, Hugh, then that would oblige
me to make up my mind at once. I couldn't be the
means of compelling you to break with your family and
give up a lai^ge income."
He cried out impatiently, "Alix, what the dickens is
a family and a large income to me in comparison with
you?"
I must say that his intensity touched me. Tears sprang
into my eyes. I risked Glady's presence to say : " Hugh,
darling, I love you. I can't tell you what your generosity
and nobleness mean to me. I hadn't imagined that thei«
was a man like you in the world. But if you could be
in my place — "
He pushed aside his coffee-cup to lean with both arms
on the table and lock me fiercely in the eyes. "If I
can't be in your place, A\ix, I've seen women who were,
and who didn't beat so terribly aoout the bush. Look
at the way Libby Jaynes married Tracy Allen. She
didn't talk about his family or his giving up a big income.
She trusted him."
"And I trust you; only—" I broke off, to get at him
from another point of view. "Do you know Libby
Jaynes personally?"
He nodded.
"Is die— is she anything like me?"
"No one is Uke you," he exclaimed, with something
that was ahnost bitterness in the tone. " Isn't that what
I'm trying to make you see? You're the one of your
kind iu the world. You've got me where a woman has
never got a man before. I'd give up everything— rd
84
THE HIGH HEART
itanre — I'd lick dust — ^but I'd follow you to the ends of
the earth, and I'd cling to you and keep you." He, too,
risked Glady's presence. "But you're so damn cool,
Alix— "
"Oh no, I'm not, Hugh, darling," I pleaded on my own
behalf. "I may seem like that on the outside, because
— oh, because I've such a lot to think of, and I have to
think for us two. That's why I'm asking you if you found
Libby Jaynes like me."
He looked puzzled. "She's — she's decent." he said,
as if not knowing what else to say.
"Yes, of course; but I mean— does she strike you as
having had my kind of ways? Or my kind of ante-
cedents?"
"Oh, antecedents! Why talk about them?"
"It's what you've been doing, isn't it, for the past
half-hour?"
"Oh, mine, yes; because I want you to see that I've
got a big asset in Cousin Andrew Brew. I know he'll
do anything for me, and if you'll trust me, Alix — "
"I do trust you, Hugh, and as soon as you have ary-
thing like what would make you indejiendent, and justi-
fied in braving your family's disapproval — "
He took an apologetic tone. "I said just now that
we couldn't scrape along on less than twelve thousand
a year — "
To me the sum seemed ridiculously enonnous. "Oh,
I'm sure we could."
"Well, that's what I've been thinking," he said, wist-
fully. " That figure was based on having the Brokenshire
position to keep up. But if we were to live in Boston,
where less would be expected of us, we could manage,
I should think, on ten."
85
THE HIGH HEART
Even that struck me as too much. "On five, Hugh,"
I declared, with confidence. "I know I could manage
on five, and have evetything we needed."
He smiled at my eagerness. " Oh, well, darling, I sha'n't
ask you to come down to that. Ten will be the least."
To me this was riches. I saw the vision of the dainty
dining-room again, and the nursery with the bassinet;
but I saw Hugh also in the background, a little shadowy,
perhaps, a Uttle like a dream as an artist embodies it in
a picture, and yet unmistakably himself. I spoke re-
servedly, however, far more reservedly than I felt, be-
cause I hadn't yet made my point quite clear to him.
"I'm sure we could be comfortable on that. When you
get it—"
I hadn't realized that this was the detail as to which
he was most sensitive.
"There you go again! When I get it! Do you tliink
I sha'n't get it?"
I felt my eyebrows going up in surprise. "Why, no,
Hugh, dear. I suppose you know what you can get and
what you can't. I was only going to say that when you
do get it I Fhall feel as if you were free to give yourself
away, and that I shouldn't have"— I tried to smile at
him— "and that I shouldn't have the air of— of stealing
you from your family. Can't you see, dear? You keep
quoting Libby Jaynes at me; but in my opinion she did
steal Tracy Allen. That the Aliens have made the best
of it has nothing to do with the original theft."
"Theft is a big word."
"Not bigger than the thing. For Libby Jaynes it was
possibly all right. I'm not condemning her. But it
wouldn't be all right for me."
"Why not? What's the difference?"
86
THE HIGH HEART
"I can't explain it to you, Hugh, if you don't see it
alreijdy. It's a difference of tradition."
"But what's difference of tradition got to do with
love? Since you admit that you love me, and I certainly
love you — "
"Yes, I admit that I love you, but love is not the only
thing in the world."
"It's the biggest thing in the world."
"Possibly; and yet it isn't necessarily the surest
guide in conduct. There's honor, for instance. If one
had to take love without honor, or honor without love,
surely one would choose the latter."
"And what would you call love without honor in this
case?"
I reflected. "I'd call it doing this thing — getting en-
gaged or married, whichever you like — ^just because we
have the physical power to do it, and making the family,
especially the father, to whom you're indebted for every-
thing you are, unhappy."
"He doesn't mind making you and me unhappy."
"But that's his responsibility. We haven't got to do
what's right for him; we've only got to do what's right
for ourselves." I fell back on my maxim, "If we do
right, only right will come of it, whatever the wrong it
seems to threaten now."
"But if I made ten thousand a year of my own — "
" I should consider you free. I should feel free myself.
I should feel free on less than so big an income."
His spirits began to return.
"I don't call that big. We should have to pinch like
the devil to keep our heads above water — no motor — no
butler—"
"I've never had either," I smiled at him, "nor a lot
7 87
THE HIGH HEART
l!i'
Not having therr
You can bet
of the things that go with thero.
might be privations to you — "
"Not when you were there, little AUx,
your sweet life on that."
We laughed together over the expression, and as Broke
came boui ding out to his breakfast, with the cry, "Hello,
Uncle Hughie!" we lapsed into that lantruage of signs and
nods and cryptic tilings which we mutually understood
to elude his sharp young wits. By this method of double
entendre Hugh gave me to understand his intention of
going to Boston by an afternoon train. He thought it
possible he might stay there. The friendliness of Cousin
Andrew Brew would probably detain him till he should
go to work, which was likely to be in a day or two. Even
if he had to wait a week he would prefer to do so at Boston,
where he had not only ties of blood, but acquaintances
and interests dating back to his Harvard days, which had
ended three years before.
In the mean time, my position might prove to be pre-
carious. He recognized that, making it an excuse for
once more forcing on me his immediate protection. Mar-
riage was not named by word on Broke's account, but
I understood that if I chose we could be married within
an hour or two, go to Boston together, and begin our
common life without further delays.
My answer to this being what it had been before, we
discussed, over the children's heads, the chances that
could befall me before night. Of these the one most
threatening was that I might be sent away in disgrace.
If sent away in disgrace I should have to go on the in-
stant. I might be paid for a month or two ahead; it
was probable I should be. It was J. Howard's policy to
deal with his cashiered employees with that kind of
88
THE HIGH HEART
liberality, s as to put himself more in the right. But
I should h^ e to go with scarcely the time to pack my
boxes, as Hugh had gone himself, and must know of a
place where I could take shelter.
I didn't know of any such refuge. My sojourn under
Mrs. Rossiter's roof had been ntnarkably free fraoi con-
tacts or curiosities of my own. Hugh knew no more
than I. I could, therefore, only ask his consent to my
consulting Mr. Strangways, a proposal to which he
agreed. This I was able to do when Larry came for
Broke, not many minutes after Hugh had taken his
departtuv.
I could talk to him the more freely because of his
knowledge of my relation to Hugh. With the fact that
I was in love with another man kept well in the fore-
ground between us, he could acquit me of those ulterior
designs on himself the suspicion of which is so disturbing
to a woman's friendship with a man. As the maid was
clearing the table, as Broke had to go to his lessons, as
Gladys had to be remanded to the nursery while I attended
to Mre. Rossiter's telephone calls and correspondence,
our talk was siiueezed in during the seconds in which we
retreated through the dining-room into the main part
of the house.
"The long and short of it is," Larry Strangways
summed up, when I had confided to him my fears of
being sent about my business as soon as Hugh had
left for Boston— "the long and .he sliort of it is that I
sliall have to look you up another job."
It is ahuost absurd to point out that the idea was new
to me. In going to Mrs. Rossiter I had never thought
of starting out on a career of earning a living profession-
ally, as you might say. I clung to the conception of
8»
THE HIGH HEART
myself as a lady, with all lorts of possibilities in the way
of genteel interventions of Providence coming in between
me and a lifetime of work. I had always supposed that
if I left Mrs. Rossitcr I should go bade to my uncle and
aunt at Halifax. After all. if Hugh was going to marry
me, it would be no more than conect that he should do
it from under their wing. Larry Strangways's suBgestiona
of another job threw open a vista of places I should fill
in the future little short of appalling to a woman instinc-
tively looking for a man to come and support her.
I shelved these considerations, however, to say, as
casually as I could: "Why should you do it? Why
shouldn't I look out for myself?"
"Becaiise when I've gone to Stacy Grainger it may
be right in my line."
"But I'd rather you didn't have me on your mind."
He laughed— uneasily, as it seemed to me. "Perhaog
it's too late for that."
It was another of the things I was sorry to hear him
wy. I could only reply, stiU on the forced casual note:
" But it's not too late for me to look after my own affairs.
What I'm chiefly concerned with is that if I have to
leave here— to-night, let us say— I sha'n't in the least
know where to go."
He was ready for me in the event of this contingency.
I suspected that he had already considered it. He had a
married sister in New York, a Mrs. Applegate, a woman
of philanthropic interests, a director on the board of a
Home for Working-Girls. Again I shied at the word.
He must have seen that I did. for he went on. with a smile
in which I detected a gleam of mockery:
"You are a working-girl, aren't you?"
I answered with the kind of humility I can only de-
go
THE HIGH HEART
•cribo as spirited, and which was meant to take the wind
out of his sails:
"I suppose so— as long as I'm working." But I gave
him a flying upward glance as I asked the imprudent ques-
tion, "Is that how you've thought of me?"
I was sorry to have said it as soon as the words were
out. I didn't want to know what he thought of me. It
was something with which I was so little concerned that
I colored with embarrassment at having betrayed so
much futile curiosity. Apparently he caw that, too,
hastening to come to my relief.
" I've thoiitjht of you," he laughed, when we had reached
the main stairway, "as a clever little v.onian, with a
special set of aptitudes who ought to be earning more
money than she's prot Jy getting here; and when I'm
with Stacy Grainger —
Grateful for this turning of the r '•ent into the busi-
ness-like and commonplace, I calk ' Gladys, who was
lagging in the dining-room with Broice, and went on my
way up-stairs.
Mrs. Rossiter was sitting up in bed, her breakfast be-
fore her on a light wicker tray that stood on legs. It
was an abstemious breakfast, carefully selected from f jods
containing most nutrition with least adipose deposit.
She had reached the age, within sight of the thirties, when
her figure was becoming a matter for consideration. It
was ahnost the only personal detail as to v.hich she had
as yet any cause for anxiety. Her complexion was as
bright as at eighteen; her brown hair, which now hung
in a loose, heavy coil over her left shoulder, was thick
and silky and long; her eyes were clear, her lips ruby.
I always noticed that she waked with the sleepy softness
of a flower uncurling to the sun. In the great wahiut
91
THE HIGH HEART
bed, of which the curves were gilded d la Louis Qujnze,
she made me think of that Jeanne B&u who became
Comtesse du Barry, in the days of her indolence and
luxury.
Having no idea as to how she would receive me, I was
not surprised that it should be as usual. Since I had en-
tered her employ she was never what I should call gra-
cious, but she was always easy and familiar. Sometimes
she was petulant; often she was depressed; but beyond
a belief that she inspired tumultuous passions in young
men there was no pose about her nor any haughtiness.
I was not afraid of her, therefore; I was only uneasy as
to the degree in which she would let herself be used against
me as a tool.
"The letters are here on the bed," wa'; her response to
my greeting, which I was careful to make in the form in
which I made it every day.
Taking the small arm-chair at the bedside, I sorted the
pile. The notes she had not glanced at for herself I read
aloud, penciling on the margins the data for the answers.
Some I replied to by telephone, which stood within her
reach on the tabU de nuit; for a few I sat down at the
desk and wrote. I was doing the latter, and had just
scribbled the words "Mrs. James Worthington Rossiter
will have much pleasure in accepting—" when she said,
in a slightly querulous tone:
"I should think you'd do something about Hugh — the
way he goes on."
I continued to write as I asked, "How does he go on?"
"Like an idiot."
"Has he been doing anj'thing new?"
My object being to get a second version of the story
Hugh had told me, I succeeded. Mrs. Rossiter's facts
92
THE HIGH HEART
were practically the same as her brother's, only viewed
from a different angle. As she presented the case Hugh
had been merely preposterous, dashing his head against
a stone wall, with nothing he could gain by the exercise.
"The idea of his saying he'll not go to the Goldboroughs
for the twelfth! Of course he'll go. Since father means
hitn to do it, he will."
I was addressing an envelope, and went on with my
task. "But I thought you said he'd left home?"
"Oh, well, he'll come back."
"But suppose he doesn't? Suppose he goes to work?"
"Pff! The idea! He won't keep that up long."
I was glad to be sitting with my back to her. To dis-
guise the quaver in my voice I Ucked the flap of the en-
velope as I said:
"But he'll have to if he means to support a wife."
" Support a wife ? What nonsense ! Father means him
to marry Cissie Boscobel, as I've told you already — and
he'll fix them up with a good income."
"But apparently Hugh doesn't see things that way.
He's told me—"
"Oh, he'd tell you anything."
"He's told me," I presisted, boldly, "that he — he loves
me; and he's made me say that — that I love him."
"And that's where you're so foolish, dear Miss Adare.
You let him take you in. It isn't that he's not sincere;
I don't say that for a minute. But people can't go about
marrying every one they love, now can they? I should
think you'd have seen that — ^with the heaps of men you
had there at Halifax — ^hardly room to step over them."
I said, slyly, "I never saw them that way."
"Oh, well, I did. And by the way, I wonder what's
become of that Captain Venables. He was a case! He
93
THE HIGH HEART
could take more liberties in a half-hour— don't jtou
think?"
"He never took any liberties with me."
"Then that must have been your fault. Talk about
Mr. Malinger! Our men aren't in it with yours — not
when it comes to the real thing."
I got back to the subject in which I was most inter-
ested by saying, as I spread another note before me:
" It seems to be the real thing with Hugh."
"Oh, I dare say it is. It was the real thing with Jack.
I don't say" — her voice took on a tender tremolo— "I
don't say that it wasn't the real thing with me. But
that didn't make any difference to father. It was the
real thing with Pauline Gray — ^when she was down there
at Baltimore; but when father picked her out for Jack, be-
catxse of her money and his relations with old Mr. Gray — "
I couldn't help half tmning round, to cry out in tones
of which I was unable to conceal the exasperation: "But
I don't see how you can all let yourselves be hooked by
the nose like that — not even by Mr. Brokenshire!"
Her fatalistic resignation gave me a sense of help-
lessness.
"Oh, well, you will before father has done v.;th you— if
Hugh goes on this way. Father's only plajdng with you
so far."
" He can't touch me," I declared, indignantly.
"But he can touch Hugh. That's all he needs to
know, as far as you're concerned." She asked, in an-
other tone, "What are you answering now?"
I told her it was the invitation to Mrs. Allen's dance.
"Then tear it up and say I can't go. Say I've a pre-
vious engagement. I'd forgotten that they had that
odious Mrs. Tracy Allen there."
9+
I
THE HIGH HEART
I tore up the sheet slowly, throwing the fragments into
the waste-paper basket.
"Why is she odious?"
"Because she is." She dropped for a second into the
tone of the early friendly days in Halifax. ' ' My dear, she
was a shop-girl— or worse. I've forgotten what she was.
but it was awful, and I don't mean to meet her "
I began to write the refusal.
"She goes about with very good people, doesn't she?"
"She doesn't go about with me, nor with some others
I know, I can tell you that. If she did it would queer us."
In the hope of drawing out some such repudiation as
that which I felt myself, I said, dryly: "Hugh tells me
that if I married him I could be as gooid as she is — ^by this
time next year."
I got nothing for my pains.
"That wouldn't help you much — not among the people
who count."
There was white anger underneath my meekness.
"But perhaps I could get along with the people who
don't count."
"Yes, you might— but Hugh wouldn't."
She dismissed Hie subject as one in which she took
only a secondary interest to say that old Mrs. Billing
was coming to lunch, and that Gladys and I should have
to take that repast up-stairs. She was never direct in
her denunciations of her father's second marriage. She
brought them in by reference and innuendo, like a pris-
oner who keeps in mind the fact that walls have ears.
She gave me to understand, however, that she considered
Mrs. Billing a witch out of "Macbeth" or a wicked old
vulture— I could take my choice of comparisons— and she
hated having her in the house. She wouldn't do it only
9S
THE HIGH HEART
^t in ways Ae could harfly understand, Mrs. BilUng
was the power behind the throne. She didn't loathe hef
stepmother she said in eflfect. so much as she iS ^
JordT*'!!f-*°r^"^'^"- 11-- never forgottS^T
Inl "^ f *^ comiectioa. dn>pping her voice and
glancmg about her, afraid she might be overheard. "It's
as rf God hmiself had become the slave of some silly hu!
man woman just because she had a pretty face." The
sentence not only betrayed the B^-kenshire attitude of
mind tow^d J Howard, but sent a chill down my back!
Having finished my notes and addressed them I rose to
return to Gladys; but there was still an unanswered ques-
sld^^heZr"- ^-^«^'*-«^<^SforaminuteV
"Then you don't want me to go away?"
^Jhe arched her lovely eyebrows. "Go away? What
"Because of the danger of my marrying Hugh."
thft " ^""^ ^ ^**^' ^^- "°^' '^"^'^ °° danger of
"But there is." I insisted. "He's asked me a number
rf tmes to go with him to the nearest clergyman, and
settle the question once for all."
^nZ^^ ^°" 1°"'* '^° '*■ There you are! What father
doesnt want doesn't happen; and what he does -^
does. That's all there is to be said "
CHAPTER VII
AS a matter of fact, that was all Mrs. Rossiter and I
i\ did say. I was so relieved at not being thrown out
of house and home on the instant that I went back to
Gladys and her lisping in French almost cheerily. You
will think me pusillanimous — and I was. I didn't want
to go to Mrs. Applegate and the Home for Working-
Girls. As far as food and shelter were concerned I liked
them well enough where I was. I liked Mrs. Rossiter
too. I should be sorry to give the impression that she
was superdlious or unkind. She was neither the one nor
the other. If she betrayed little sentiment or sympathy
toward me, it was because of admitting me into that
fenjinine freemasonry in which the emotional is not called
for. I might suffer while she remained indifferent; I
might be killed on the spot while she wouldn't shed a
tear; and yet there was a heartless, good-natured, Uve-
and-let-live detachment about her which left me with
nothing but good-will.
Then, too, I knew that when I married Hugh she woula
do nothing of her own free will against me. She would
not brave her father's decree, but she wouldn't be in-
tolerant; she might think Hugh had been a fool, but
when she could do so surreptitiously she would invite
him and me to diimer.
As this was a kind of recognition in advance, I could
not be otherwise than grateful.
97
jj^ I
THE HIGH HEART
It made waiting for Hugh the easier. I calculated that
if he entered into some sort of partnership with his cousin
Ancbew Brew-I didn't in the least know what-we
nught be married within a month or two. At furthest it
nught be about the time when Mrs. Rossiter renuved
to New York, which would make it October or November
I could then slip quietly back to Halifax, be quietly mar-
ned, and quietly settle with Hugh in Boston. In the
mean time I was glad not to be disturbed.
I spent, therefore, a pleasant morning with my pupil
and ate a pleasant lunch, watching from the gable win-
dow of the school-room the great people assemble in the
breakfast loggia m honor of the Marquise de Pompadour's
mother. I am not sure that old Madame Poisson ever
vent to court; but if she did I know the courtiers must
have shown her just such deference as that which Mrs.
Rossiter's guests exhibited to this withered old lady with
the hooked nose and the lorgnette.
I was curious about the whole entertainment. It was
not the only one of the kind I had seen from a distance
smce coming to Mrs. Rossiter, and I couldn't help com-
parisons with the same kind of thing as done in the ways
with which I was familiar. Here it was less a luncheon
thaix It was an exquisite thing on the stage, rehearsed to
the last point. In England, in Canada, luncheon would
bs something of a friendly haphazard, primarily for the
sake of getting food, secondly as a means to a scrambling,
jjlly sort of social intercourse, and hardly at all a cere^
momal. Here the ceremouial came first. Hostess and
guests seemed alike to be taking part in a rite of seeing
and bemg seen. The food, which was probably exceUent,
<vas a matter of sUght importance. The social intercourse
amounted to nothing, since they all knew one another but
98
I any
THE HIGH HEART
too well, and had no urgent vitality of interests
case. The rite was the thing. Every detail was prepared
for that. Silver, porcelain, flowers, doilies, were of the
most expensive and the most correct. The guests were
jessed to perfection— a Uttle too well, according to the
Enghsh standard, but not too well for a function. As a
function it was beautiful, an occasion of privilege, a prt)of
of attainment. It was the best thing of its kind America
could show. Those who had money could alone present
the pa^port that would give the right of admission.
If I had a criticism to make, it was that the guests
were too much alike. They were all business men. and
the wives or widows of business men. The two or three
who did nothing but live on inherited incomes were
busm^ men in heart and in blood. Granted that in the
New World the business man must be dominant, it was
possible to have too much of him.' Having too much of
han lowered the standard of interest, narrowed the drde
of taste. In the countries I knew the business man
might be present at such a festivity, but there would
be aanetiung to give him color, to throw him into
tehef. There would be a touch of the creative or the
mtellectual, of (he spiritual or the picturesque The
comjMny wouldn't be all of a gilded drab. There
would be a wnter or a painter or a politician or an actor
or a soldier or a priest. There would be something that
wasnt money before it was anything else. Here there
was nothing. Birds of a feather were flocking together
and they were all parrots or parrakeets. They had
^umage, but no song. They drove out the thrushes and
the larks and the wild swans. Their shrill screeches and
hoaree shouts came up in a not whoUy pleasant babel
to the open window where I sat looking down and Gladvs
99
THE HIGH HEART
hovwred and hopped, wondering if Thomas, the nty-
cheekad footman, would remember to bring tu some of
the left-over ice-cream.
I thought it was a pity. With elements as good as
could be found anywhere to form a Sodety^-that fusion
of all varieties of achievement to which alone the word
written with a capital can be applied— there was no one
to form it. It was a woman's business; and for the r61e
of hostess in the big sense the American woman, as far
as I could judge, had little or no aptitude. She was too
timid, too distrustful of herself, too much afraid of doing
the wrong thing or of knowing the wrong people. She
was so little sure of her standing that, as Mis. Rossiter
expressed it, she could be "queered" by shaking hands
with Libby Jaynes. She lacked authority. She could
stand ouc in a throng by her dr«s or hei- grace, but she
couldn't lead or combine or co-ordinate. She coidd lend
a charming hand where some one else was the Lady Hol-
land or the Mad-une de Stael, but she couldn't take the
seemingly heterogeneous types represented by the writer,
the painter, the politician, the actor, the soldier, the
priest, and the business man and weld them into the de-
lightful, promiscuous, entertaining whole to be found, in
its greater or lesser degree, according to size or importance
of place, almost anywhere within the borders of the Brit-
ish Empire. I came to the conclusion that this was why
there were few "great houses" in America and fewer
women of importance.
It was why, too, the guests were subordinated to the
ceremonial. It couldn't be any other way. With flint
and steel you can get a spark; but where you have noth-
ing but flint or nothing but steel, friction produces no
light. The American hostess, in so far as she exists, rare-
THE HIGH HEART
ly hopes for anything from the clash of minds, and there-
fore centers her attention on her doilies. It must be ad-
mitted that she has the most tasteful doUies in the world.
There is a pathos in the way in which, for want of the
courage to get interesting human specimens together,
Ae spends her strength on the detaUs of her rite. It is
like the instinct of women who in default of babies lavish
their passion on little dogs. One can say that it is faute
dt mieux. Fauie de mieux was, I am sure, the reason
why Ethel Rossiter took her table appointments with what
seemed to me such extraordinary seriousness. When all was
said ana done it was the only real thing to care about.
I repeat tUt I thought it was a pity. I had dreams
as I looked down, of what I could do with the same us^
of money, the same position of command. 1 had dreams
that the Brokenshires accepted me, that Hugh came into
the means that would be his in the ordinary course. I
saw myself standing at the head of the stairway of a fine
big house in Washington or New York. People were
streaming upward, and I was shaking hands with a de-
hghtful, smiling disinvolture. I saw men and womv.n of
all the ranks and orders of conspicuous accomplishment,
each contributing a gift— somo nothing but beauty, some
nothing but wit, some nothing but money, some nothing
but position, some nothing but fame, some nothing but
national importance. The Brokenshire clan was there,
and the Billings and the Grays and the Burkes; but states^
men and diplomatists, too, were there, and those leaders
in the worid of the pen and the brush and the buskin of
whom, oddly enough, I saw Larry Strangways, with his
eternal defensive smile, emerging from the crowd as chief.
I was wearing diamonds, black velvet, and a train, wav-
ing in my disengaged hand a spangled fan.
THE HIGH HEART
From these visions I was roused by Gladys, who came
prancing from the stair-head.
" V'ld, Mademoisttttl VUt Thomas it U ict-ertamt"
Having consumed this dainty, we watched the com-
pany wander about the terraces and lawns and finally
drift away. I was getting Gladys ready for her walk
when Thomas, with a pitying expression on his boyish
face, came back to say that Mr. Brokenshire would like
to speak with me down-stairs.
I was never so near fainting in my life. I had barely
the strength to gasp, "Very well, Thomas, I'll come," and
to send Gladys to her nurse. Thomas watched me with
his good, kind, sympathetic eyes. Like ihe other ser-
vants, he must have known something of my secret and
was on my side. I called him the bouton dt rose, partly
because his clean, pink cheeks suggested a Killamey
breaking into flower, and partly because in his waiting
on Gladys and me he had the yearning, care-taking air
of a fatherly little boy. Just now he could only march
down the passage ahead of me, throw open the door of
my bedroom as if he was lord chamberlain to a queen,
and give me a look which seemed to say, "If I can be your
liege knight against this giant, pray, dear lady, command
me." I threw him my thanks in a trumped-up smile,
which he retaimed with such sweet encouragement as to
nearly unman me.
I stayed in my room only long enough to be sure that
I was neat, smoothing my hair and picking one or two
threads from my white-linen suit. The suit had scarlet
cuffs and a scarlet belt, and as there was a scarlet flush
beneath my summer tan, like the color under the glaze
of a Chinese jar, I could see for myself that my appear-
ance was not ineffective.
I03
THE HIGH HEART
The boHUm dt ros0 wat in waiting at tht foot of the
•tain as I «me down. Through the haU and the dininjf.
room he ushered me ro^^aUy; but as I came out on the
breakfast loggia my r alty stopped with what I can only
descnbe as a bump. '
1 I^u ^^J ^^ ^°^- ^^ ^ ^^^y nmained. Tbe
aT.?^.. ""* ^^^^ °^ **•* "*« "«" also on the table
All the doUies were there, and the magnificent lace center-
piece which Mrs. Rossiter had at various times called on
me to admire. The old Spode dessert service was the
more dimly, anciently brilliant because of the old polished
oak, and so were the glasses and finger-bowls picked out
m gold.
Mr. Brokenshire, whom I had seen from my window
stooUinc with some ladies on the lawn, had returned to
ttte fo<.t of the table, opposite to the door by which I
came out. where he now sat in a careless, sidewise attitude,
fingmng his cigar. Old Mrs. Billing, who was beside him
on his right, put up her lorgnette immediately I appeared
intheentrance. Mrs. Rossiter had dropped into a chance
diaxr h^-way down the table or the left; but Mrs
Brokenshire. oddly enough, was in that same seat in the
fer comer to which she had retreated on the occasion
rt^ my summoning ten days before. I wondered whether
this was by intention or by chance, though I was pres-
ently to know.
Terrified though I was, I felt salvation to lie in keeping
a certain dignity. I made, therefore, something between
t, J^ ^ courtesy, first to Mr. Brokenshire, then to
Mrs BiUing, then to Mrs. Rossiter, and lastly to Mrs.
Brokenshire, to whom I raised my eyes and looked all
the way diagonaUy across the loggia. I took my time
m makmg these four distinct salutations, though in re-
8 103
pi
THE HIGH HEART
»pon»e I wu only nand at After that then was a
space J Mme seoonda in which I merely itood, in my poae
of Ecci Fe tiinat ^^
"Sit down!"
The command came, of course, from J. Howard. The
chair to which I had once before been banished being still
m Its comer, I slipped into it.
"I wished to speak to you. Miss— a— Mis*—"
He glanced helplessly toward his daughter, who sup-
plied the name.
"Ah yes. I wished to speak to you. Miss Adare, be-
cause my son has been acting very foolishly."
I made my tone as meek as I could, scarcely d- ing to
lift my ey^ from the floor. "Wouldn't it be well, sir
to talk to him about that?"
Mrs. BiUing's lorgnette came down. She glanced tow-
ard her son-in-law as though finding the point weU taken.
He went on imperturbably. "I've said all I mean
to say to him. My present appeal is to you."
"Oh, then this is an — appeal?"
He seemed to hesitate, to reflect. "If you choose to
take it so," he admitted, stiffly.
"It surely isn't as I choose to take it, sir; it's as you
choose to mean."
"Don't landy words."
"But I must use words, sir. I only want lO be sure
that you're making an appeal to me, and not giving me
commands."
He spoke sharply. ' I wish you to understand that
you're inducing a younj, man to act in a way he is going
to find contrary to his interests."
I could barely nerve myself to look up at him. "If
by the 'young man' you mean Mr. Hugh Brokenshinj,
104
THE HIGH HEART
then I'm ifldudng Um to do nothing whatever; unleM,"
I added, "you call it an inducement that I— I"— I was
bound to force the word out— "unlesa you caU it an
inducement that I love him."
"But that's it," Mrs. Rossiter broke in. "That's what
my father means. If you'd stop caring anything about
him you wouldn't give him encouragement."
I looked at her with a dim, apologetic smile. It was a
tune, I felt, to speak not only with more courage, but with
more sentiment than I was accustomed to use in ex-
pressing myself.
"I'm afraid I can't give my heart, and take it back
like that."
"I can," she returned, readily. She spoke as if it was
a matter of cracking her knuckles or wagging her ears.
"If I don't want to like a person I don't do it. It's
training and self-command."
"You're fortunate," I said, qu=r,tly. Why I should
have glanced again at Mrs..Bro'<tashire I hardly know;
but I did so, as I addea: "I've had no training of that
kind— and I doubt if many women have."
Mrs. Brokenshire, who was gazing at me with the same
kmd of fascinated stare as on the former occasion, faintly,
but quite perceptibly, inclined her head. In this move-
ment I was sure I had the key to the mystery that seemed
to sumnmd her.
"All this," J. Howard declared, magisterially, "is be-
side the point. If you've told my son that you'd marri-
him — "
"I haven't."
''Or even given him to understand that you would—"
"I've only given him to understand that I'd marry
him — on conditions."
los
THE HIGH HEART
And would it be discreet on my part to
tenns you've been kind enough to lay
"Indeed?
inquire the
down?"
I pulled myself together and spoke finnly. "The fct
IS that I U marry him-if his family come to me and «c.
^a\T 1°,!^''^ """^^ ^"^ ^d a daughter."
Old Mrs. Bdlmg emitted the queer, cracked cackle of
a hen when it crows, but she put up her lorgnette and
exammed me more closely. Ethel Rossiter gasped audi-
Wy, moving her cnan-aUttle farther nwnd in my direction.
Mre.Brokemh.re stared with concentrated intensity, but
somehow, I didn't toow why, I felt that she was baclin^
me up. -v-^-uifi
^The great man contented himself with saying. " Oh, you
I i 'T't *^^*"v^ to speak with a decision and a spirit
I was far from feeling.
''Yes, sir, I will. I shaU not steal him fi«m you-
not so long as he's dependent."
"That's very kind. And may I ask—"
;; You haven't let me tell you my other condition."
Irue. Go on."
I pMted the words out as best I could. "I've told
,yT J^^- ^^"^^ ^^ "^^^^ ^^""^ independent;
" i tf"**"^ °^ """"^y ^^ ^'^'^^ a man."
Ah! And you expect one or the other of these
miracles to take place?"
"I expect both."
Though the words uttered themselves, without calcu-
Ution or expectation on my part, they gave me so much
of the courage of conviction that I held up my head
I°Zh'^r ^^- ^""°^ '"^'* "°^ ^^^ °^ «> "^^
as laugh. She only gasped out that long "Ha-a!" which
io6
THE HIGH HEART
procUims the sporting interest, of which both Hugh and
Ethel Rossiter had told me in the morning.
Mr. Brokenshire seemed to brace himself, leanine for-
ward, with his elbow on the table and his cigar between
the fingere of his raised right hand. His eyes were bent
on me-fine eyes they were!-as if in kinay amuse-
ment. ' """°^
"My good girl," he said, in his most pitying voice "I
wdi I could tell you how sorry for you I am. Neither
Of these dreams can possibly come true—"
My blood being up, I interrupted with some force.
Then m that case, Mr. Brokenshire, you can be quite
^ m your mind, for I should never marry your son "
Haymg made this statement, I foUowed it up by saying
Smce that is understood. I presume there's no objert
m my staying any longer." I was half rising when his
hand went u^; t. "«
"Wait. We'll tell you when to go. You haven't yet
got my point. Perhaps I haven't made it clear. I'm
not mterested in your hopes — "
"No. sir; of course not; nor I in yours."
"1 haven't inquired as to that— but we'll let it pass.
We re both apparently interested in my son."
I gave a little bow of assent.
' I said I wished to make an appeal to you."
I made another little bow of assent.
"It's on his behalf. You could do him a great kind-
ness. You could make him understand— I gather that
he s under your influence to some degree; you're a clever
^1, I can see that— but you could make him understand
that m fancying he'll marry you he's starting out on a
task m which there's no hope whatever "
"But there is."
107
THE HIGH HEART
T^^^\J^?^'^ ^"^ ^""^ conditions that wiU never be
luinilea.
"What makes you say that?"
"My knowledge of the world."
"Oh, but would you call that knowledge of the world?"
I was swept along by the force of an inner indignation
which had b.-come reckless. "Knowledge of the world,"
Ihumedon, unpUes knowledge of the human heart, and
you ve none of that at all." I could see him flush
My good girl, we're here to speak of you, not of
"Surely we're here to speak of us both, since at any
mmute I choose I can marry your son. If I don't
niany hmi it's because I don't choose; but when I
do choose —
Again the hand went up. "Yes. of course; but that's
not what we want specially to hear. Let us assume as
you say, that you can marry my son at any time you
choose. You don't choose, for the reason that you're
astute enough to see that your last state would be woim
than the first. To enter a family that would disown you
at once — '
I kept down my tone, though I couldn't master my
excit«nent. "That's not my reason. If I don't ma J
him It s precisely because I have the power. There are
peopl^wards they are at heart, as a nil^who be-
cause they have the power use it to be insolent, especially
to those who are weaker. I'm not one of those. There's
a noblesse oblige that compels one in spite of everything
In deahng with an elderly man, who I suppose loves h^
«m, and with a lady who's been so kind to me as Mra
Kossiter — "
io8
THE HIGH HEART
There's no
"You've been hired, and you're paid,
special call for gratitude."
y.h^^^!^ ^ ^"^ P^^ '^° ^^ 't; »«t that isn't
'vhat I speaally want to say."
;;;n^t you spedaUy want to say apparently i^"
lh£ I m not afraid of you, sir; I'm not afraid of
yo^fanuly or your money or your position or anvthii
or any one you can control. If I don't many Hugh J?s
for the reason that I've given, and for noS. As W
as he s dependent on your money I shall not many him
m ^_come and beg me to do it^-aad that I shall atpect
to^fi^'""''^- "T^*-'tai you've brought us
I could barely pipe, but I stood to my guns. "If you
hke the expression, sii-yes. I shall not many Hueh-
^te>g as you support him-^iU I've brought you to your
If I expected the heavens to fall at this I was disao-
pomted. M J. Howard did was to lean on L^ to^
arfMrs.BUhngandtalktoherprivatdy. Mrs. Rossi^
g^p and went to her father, entering also into a whis-
P^ coUoquy. Once or twic* he glanced backward to
h^ wrfe, but she was now gazing sidewise in the direction
of the house and over the lines of flowers that edged the
terraces. ^
T ^""^f ■/°^'^ ^ S°°« •'^ to her seat, and
J^ Howard had r^sed himself from his conversation with
Mrs BiUmg, he began again to address me tranquilly
fnr i r^ y?" "nigtt have sympathized with my hopes
for Hugh and have helped to convince him how uselS
lus plans for a maniage between him and you must be "
I answered with decision: "No; I can't do that."
log
THE HIGH HEART
"I should have appreciated it — "
"That I can quite understand."
"And some day have shown you that I'm actine for
your good." ^
"Oh, sir," I cried, "whatever else you do, you'U let
my good be my own aflFair, will you not?"
I thought 1 heard Mrs. Billing say, "Brava!" ' At any
rate, she tapped her fingers together as if in applause. I
b««an to feel in a more lenient spirit toward her.
"I'm quite willing to do that," my opponent Si i in a
moderate, long-sufiering tone, "now that I see that you
refuse to take Hugh's good into consideration. So long
^.y^ «n««rage him in his present madness—"
"I'm not doing that."
He took no notice of the interruption. "—I'm obUged
to regard him as nothing to me."
['That must be between you and your son."
"It is. I'm only asking you to note that you— ruin
"No, no," I began to protest, but he sUenced me with
a movement of his hand.
"I'm not a haid man naturally," he went on, in his
tranquil voice, "but I have to be obeyed."
"Why?" I demanded. "Why should you be obeyed
more than any one else?"
"Because I mean to be. That must be enough—"
_ 'But It isn't," I insisted. "I've no intention of obey-
mc you—" ■■
He broke in with some haste: "Oh, there's no question
of you, my dear young lady. I've nothing to do with you
I m speaking of my son. He must obey me, or take the
consequences. And the consequences will last as long as
he hves. I'm not one to speak rashly, or to speak twice,
no
THE HIGH HEART
So that's what I'm putting to you. Do you think-do
you honestly think-that you're improving your position
by rummg a man who sooner or latei-^ooner rather than
later— wiU lay his ruin at your door and loathe you?
Come now! You're a clever girl. The case is by no
means beyond you. Think, and think straight."
'I am thinking, sir. I'm thinking so straight that I
see right through you. My father used to say—"
"No reminiscence, please."
"Very well, then; we'll let the reminiscence go. But
you re thinking of committing a crime, a crime against
Hugh, a cnme against yourself, a crime against love
every kind of love-and that's the worst crime of all-
and you haven't the moral courage to shoulder the guilt
yourself; you're trying to shuffle it oflE on me."
" My good woman — "
But nothing could silence me now. I leaned forward,
mth hands clasped in my lap, and merely looked at him.
My voice was low, but I spoke rapidly:
"You're talking to bewilder me, to throw dust in my
eyes, to snare me into taking the blame for what you're
domg of your own free act. It's a kind of reasoning whidi
some girls would be caught by, but I'm not one of than
U Hugh IS ruined in the sense you mean, it's his father
who will rum him-but even that is not the worst. What's
worst, what's dastardly, what's not merely unwort:hy of
a man like you but unworthy of any man-of anything
that caUs itself a mal^is that you, with all your r^
sources of every '-ind, should try to foist your responsi-
bilities OflE on a woman who has no resources whatever
That I shouldn't have believed of any of your sex— if it
liadn't happened to myself."
But my eloquence left him as unmoved as before. He
THE HIGH HEART
whispered with Mrs. Billing. The old lady was animated.
maJcmg beats and lunges with her lorgnette.
"So that what it comes to," he said to me at last, lifting
himself up and speaking in a tired voice, "is that you really
mean to pit yourself against me. "
" No, sir; but that you mean to pit yourself against me "
Soinething compeUed me to add: "And I can teU you no-.v
that you 11 be beaten in the end."
Perhaps he didn't hear me, for he rose and, stooping, car-
ned cm his discussion with Mrs. Billing. There was a lono
penod m which no one paid any further attention to my
presence; m fact, no one paid any attention to me any
more. To my last words I expected some retort, but none
came. Ethel Rossiter joined her father at the end of the
table, and when Mrs. Billing also rose the conversation
went on d tr<Ks. Mrs. Brokenshire alone remained seated
and aloof.
But the moment came when her husband turned toward
her. Not having been dismissed.1 merely stood and looked
on. What I saw then passed quickly, so quickly that it
took a mmute of reflection before I could put two and two
together.
Having taJcen one step toward his -vife, Howard Broken-
^ stood stm, abruptly, putting his hand suddenly to
ttie left side of his face. His wife, too, put up her hand
but pahn outward and as if to wave him back At the
same time she averted her f ace^nd I knew it was his eye
It was over before either of „he other two women per-
ceived anything. Presently, all four were out on the grass,
strolling along in a Uttle chattering group together. My
dismissal havmg come automatically, as you might sav
I was free to go. ^ '
CHAPTER VIII
AN hour later I had what up to then I must caU the
greatest surprise of my life.
I was crying by myself on the shore, in that secluded
comer Miong the rocks where Hugh had first told me that
he loved me. As a rule, I don't cry easily. I did it now
chiefly from being overwrought. I was desolate I
mssedHugh. The few days or few weeks that must pass
before I could see him again stretched before me like a cen-
toy. All whom I could call my own were so far away
Even had they been near, they would probably, with the
mdividuahsm of our race, have left me to shift for myself
Louise and Victoria had always given me to understand
that, though they didn't mind lending me an occasional
asterly hand, my Ufe was my own affair. It would have
be^ a reUef to talk the whole thing out philosophically
with Larry Strangways. As I came from the house I tried
for the first time since knowing him, to throw myself in hi^
path; but, as usual when one needs a friend, he was no-
where to be seen.
I could, therefore, only scramble down to my favorite
comer among the rocks. Not that it was really a scram-
ble. As a matter of fact, the path was easy if you knew
where to find it; but it was hidden from the ordinary
passer on the Cliff Walk, first by a boulder, round which
you had to sUp, and then by a tangle of wild losebiaes,
113
THE HIGH HEART
wild raspbcmes, and Queen Anne's lace. It was aome-
thing Idee a secret door, known only to the Rossiter house-
hold, their servante. and their friends. Once you had
passed It you had a measure of the public privacy yon Bet
ma box at the theater or the opera. You had space Mid
ease and a wide outlook, with no fear of intrusion
I cannot say that I was unhappy. I was rather in that
state of mind which the American people, with its gift
for the happy, unexpected word, have long spoken of as
m^- I was certainly mad. I wasmad with J. How-
ard Brokenshire first of aU ; I was mad with his family for
hawig got up and left me without so much as a nod: I wai
mad with Hugh for having made me fall in love with him-
I was mad with Larry Strangways for not having been on
aie spot; and I was most of all mrd with myself. I had
been boastful and bumptious; I had been disrespectful and
absurf. It was foolish to make worse enemies than I had
abeady. Mrs. Rossiter wouldn't keep me now. There
■nie still summer beauty of the afternoon added to my
wretchedness. All round and before me there was hixury
andjoyousness and sport. The very sea was in a playftd
mood, lappag at my feet like a tamed, affectionate levia-
than, and curling round the ledges in the oflSng with deli-
^*l^^ ^P<^*^ °l sp^e. Sea-gulls swooped and
hovered with hoarse cries and a lovely effect of silver-
ynas^ Here and there was a sail on the blue, or the smoke
Q^ a steamer or a war-ship. Eastons Point, some two or
ttoee milM away, was a long, burnished line of ripening
wheat. To nght and to left of me were broken crags, i«l-
yeUow, red-brown, red-green, where lovers and happy
groups could perch or nestle carelessly, thrusting tiJble
THE HIGH HEART
^^tTT^l^A^T^- I '««J to bring my trouble
S r«, ^^ "°* ^ '«• ^^t"' I Wouldn't hav^
be« A«*^ Then, waw't a soul m the world who wouM
mfl ° ^"J"^ ^ ^* ""«^' ««d I was. in all my^.
rnary ^t^cts. a clinging, p^tic thing that hat^'^
,J1^Z^ ')°*^« ^"^ '* t^«° *«* «:n^g. and I did that
to the best of my ability; not loudty^f co^ ij ^*
early, but gently and sentimentally, J^ an^,« ^
» wwLl"'"' '"^ "'"* had'happened Z?1L" S
Z7 lYr^^'^^'^'^^y- I «ied for things C
^; ;.^^'?^°^''^*°'=^*°'*"hetime. m«f
had finished with these I went further back to dig up S«
^^mm^andlcriedforthem. I cried for my fathered
nwther and my orphaned condition; I cried for the^rin
^ved on hts prmapal. and left me with scarcely a pemiyto
my name; I cned for my various disappointmLtfLTvl
and for thegirl friends who had predeceased me. Ima^
aU these motives together and cried for them in buTI
«.ed for Hugh and the brilliant futm^ we should have on
ti^e money he would make. I cried for Larry Strang^a^
and the lonehness his absence would entaa^me. S
or the future as well as for the past, and if I could S
though of a future beyond the future I should have Si
Zi- "i:'" ' "^^ r '°°" "^^ ' f^'t aStt if
M '*^ ^ '^ "^ ^b<«t me. and I was com-
m^'nf ^P^emy eyes and wondering whether at the
XTl [r°^ homeward my nose would be too red
when I heard a qmet step. I thought I must be mistaken
It was so mJikely that any one would be there at this hour
THE HIGH HEART
U the day— the aervanta generally came doim at night—
that for a minute I didn't turn. It was the uncomfortable
sense that some one was behind me that made me look
back at last, when I caught the flutter of lace and the
shimmer of pal&-rose taffeta. Mr? rokenshire had worn
lace and pale-rose taffeta at the lunch.
Pear and amazement wrestled in my soul together.
Struggling to my feet, I turned round as slowly as I could.
"Don't get up," she said in a sweet, quiet voice. "I'll
come and sit down beside you, if I may." Shehadah«ady
seated herself on a low flat rock as she said, "I saw you
were crying, so I waited."
I am not usually at a loss for words, but I was then. I
stuttered and stammered and babbled, without being able
to say anything articulate. Indeed, I had nothing articu-
late to say. The mind had suspended its action.
My impressions were all subconscious, but registered
exactly. She was the most exquisite production I had ever
seen in human guise. Her perfection was that of some
lovely little bird in which ro color fails to shade harmoni-
ously into some other color, in which no single feather is out
of place. The Word I used of her was soignie-ihat which
is smoothed and curled and polished and caressed till there
is not an eyelash which hasn't received its measure of at-
tention. I don't mean that she was artificial, or that her
effects were too thought out. She was no more artificial
than a highly cultivated flower is artificial, or a many-
faceted diamond, or a King Charles spaniel, or anything
else that is carefully bred or cut or shaped. She was
the work of some specialist in beauty, who had no aim in
view but to give to the world the loveliestihing possible.
^AThen I had mastered my confusion sufficiently I sat
down with the words, rather lamely spoken •
ii6
THE MARRIAGE SHE HAD MISSED WAS ON HER MIND. ,T CREATED
AN OBSESSION OR A BROKEN HEART, I WASN'T
QUITE SLRE WHICH
THE HIGH HEART
"I didii't know any one WM hm. I hope I haven't
kept you tUnding lonjc."
"No; but I was watching you. I came down only a
few nunute. after you did. You aee, I waa a£raid-when
we came away from Mn. Rosaiter'e-that you might be
unhappy." s "»
"I'm not as unhappy as I was." I faltered, without
knowing what I said, and was rewarded to see her smile
/ 1* r"^'^ innocent smile, without glee, a little sad in
fact, but full of unutterable things like a very young child's
I had never seen such teeth, so white,so small.so regular
Im glad of that." she said, simply. "I thought if
«ane-«ome other woman was near you, you mightn't feel
•0-80 much alone. That's why I watched round and
followed you.
I could have fallen at her feet, but I restricted myself to
saymg:
"Thank you very much. It does make a difierence "
I got courage to add, however, with a smile of my own
"I see you know."
"Ym. I know. I've thought about you a good deal
smce that day about a fortnight ago— you remember?"
"Oh yes. I remember. I'm not likely to forget, am If
(^y. you see, I had no idea-if I had, I mightn't have
felt so — so awfully forlorn."
Her eyes rested upon me. I can only say of them that
they were sweet and lovely, which is saying nothing at all
Sweet and lovely are the words that come to me when I
think of her, and they are so lamentably overwo-' - -t She
seemed to study me with a child-like unconsciousness.
T J-Y^'" *^ ^^ ^* ^^' "^ ^PP°^ you do feel forlorn.
I didn t think of that oi— or I might have managed to
come to you before."
117
THE HIGH HEART
"That you should have come now," I said, warmly,
"is the kindest thing one human being ever did for
another."
Again there was the smile, a little to one side of the
mouth, wistful, wan.
"Oh no, it isn't. I've really come on my own account."
I waited for some explanation of this, but she only went
on: "Tell me about yourself. How did you come here?
Ethel Rossiter has never really said anything about you.
I should like to know."
Her manner had the gentle command that queens and
princesses and very rich women tmconsdously acquire.
I tried to obey h sr, but found little to say. Uttered to her
my facts were so meager. I told her of my father and
mother, of my father's mania for old books, of Louise and
Victoria and their husbands, of my visits abroad; but I
felt her attention wandering. That is, I felt she was inter-
ested not in my data, but in me. Halifax and Canada and
British army and navy life and rare first editions were
outside tie range of her ken. Paris she knew; and Lon-
don she knesT ; but not from any point of view from which I
could speak of them. I could see she was the well-placed
American who knows some of the great English houses and
all of the great EngUsh hotels, but nothing of that Britan-
nic backbone of which I might have been called a rib. She
broke in presently, not apropos of anything I was saying,
with the words:
"How old are you?"
I told her I was twenty-four.
"I'm twenty-nine."
I said I had understood as much r'rom Mrs. Rossiter, but
that I could easily have supposed her no 'der than myself.
This was true. Had there not been that something moum-
iiS
THE HIGH HEART
fill i.i her fe'.-e v hich simulates maturity I could have
air ■ -gl t of hei- a . nothing but a girl. If I stood in awe of
her it \'as o/iy ci what I guessed at as a sorrow.
She went on to give me two or three details of her life,
with nearly all of which I was familiar through hints from
Hugh and Ethel Rossiter.
"We're really Philadelphians, my mother and I. We've
Uved a good deal in New York, of course, and abroad. I
was at school in Paris, too, at the Convent des Abeilles."
She wandered on, somewhat inconsequentially, with facts
of this sort, when she added, suddenly: "I was to have
married some one else."
I knew then that I had the clue to her thought. The
marriage she had missed was on her mind. It created an
obsession or a broken heart, I wasn't quite sure which.
It was what she wanted to talk about, though her glance
fell before the spark of intelligence in mine.
Since there was nothing I could say in actual wcTds, I
merely murmured sympathetically. At the same time
there came to me, like the slow breaking of a dawn, an
iUuminating glimpseof the great J.Howard's life. I seemed
to be admitted into its secret, into a perception of its
weak spot, more fully than his wife had any notion of.
She would never, I was sure, see what she was betraying to
me from my point of view. She would never see how she
was giving him away. She wouldn't even see how she was
givmg away herself— she was so sweet, and genUe, and
child-like, and unsuspecting.
I don't know for how many seconds her quiet, inconse-
quential speech trickled on without my being able to
foUow it. I came to myself again, as it were, on hearing
her say:
"And if you do love him, oh, don't give him up!"
9. iig
THE HIGH HEART
I grasped the fact then that I had lost someth-ng about
Hugh, and did my best to catch up with it.
" I don't mean to, if either of my conditions is fulfilled.
You heard what they were."
"Oh, but if I were you I wouldn't make them. That's
where I think you're wrong. If you love him—' '
' ' I couldn't steal him from his family, even if 1 loved him. ' '
"Oh, but it wouldn't be stealing. When two people
love each other there's nothing else to think about."
"And yet that might sometimes be dangerous doctrine."
"If there was never any danger there'd never be any
courage. And courage is one of the finest things in life."
"Yes, of course; but even courage can carry one very
tar."
"Nothing can carry us so far as love. I see that now.
It's why I'm anxious about poor Hugh. I— I know a man
who— who loves a woman whom he— he couldn't marry,
and—" She caught herself up. " I'm fond of Hugh, you
see, even though he doesn't like me. I wish he under-
stood, that they all understood— that— that it isn't my
fault. If I could have had my way—" She righted her-
self here with a sHght change of tense. "If I could have
my way, Hugh would marry the woman he's in love with
and who's in love with him."
I tried to enroll her decisively on my side.
"So that you don't agree with Mr. Brokenshire.'
Her immediate response was to color with a soft, suf-
fused rose-pink like that of the inside of shells. Her' eyes
pew misty with a kind of helplessness. She looked at me
imploringly, and looked away. One might have supposed
that she was pleading with me to be let off answering.
Nevertheless, when she spoke at last, her words brought
me to a new phase of her self -revelation.
THE HIGH HEART
"Why aren't you afraid of him?"
"Oh, but I am."
"Yes, but not like—" Again she saved herself. ' ' Yes
but not like— so many people. You may be afraid of him'
mside, but you fight."
"Any one fights for right."
There was a repetition ol the wistful smile, a little to the
left comer of the mouth.
||Oh,dothey? I wish I did. Or rather I wish I had "
It s never too late," I declared, with what was meant
to be encouragement.
There was a queer little gleam in her eye, Uke that which
comes into the pupil of a startled bird.
"So I've heard some one else say. I suppose it's true-
but It fnghtens me."
I was quite strangely uneasy. Hints of her story came
back to me, but I had never heard it completely enough to
be able to piece the fragments together. It was new for
me to unagine myself called on to protect any one— I need-
ed protection so much for myself !-but I wasmoved with a
protective instinct toward her. It was rather ridiculous
and yet it was so. '
"Only one must be sure one is right before one fights
mustn t one?" was aU I could think of saying.
She responded dreamily, looking seaward.
"Don't you think there may be worse things than
wrong?"
This being so contrary to my pet principles, I answered
emphatically, that I didn't think so at all. I brought out
my maxim that if you did right nothing but right could
come of it; but she surprised me by saying, simply, "I
don't believe that."
I was a little indignant.
THE HIGH HEART
"ButifsnotamatterofbeUeving;it'soneofprovinjr of
demonstration." '
" I've done right, and wrong came of it."
"Oh, but it couldn't— not in the long run."
"Well, then I did wrong. That's what I've been afr«id
of, and what— what some one else tells me." If a pet bird
could look at you with a challenging expression it was the
thmgsliedid. "Now what do you say?"
I really didn't know what to say. I spoke from instinct
and some common sense.
" If one's done wrong, or made a mistake, I suppose the
only way one can rectify it is to begin again to do right
Kight must have a rectifying power."
"But if you've made a mistake the mistake is there
unless you go back and unmake it. If you don't, isn't it
what they call building on a bad foundation.?"
"I dare say it is; and yet you can't push a material
companson too far when you're thinking of spiritual
things This is spiritual, isn't it? I suppose one can't
really do evil and expect good to come of it: but one can
overcome evil with good."
She looked at me with a sweet mistiness.
"I've no doubt that's true, but it's very deep. It's too
deep for me." She rose with an air of dismis.sing the sud-
]ect, though she continued to speak of it aUusively "You
taow so much about it. I cou.d see you did from the first
If I was to tell you the whole ^tory-but, of course, I can't
do that. No. don't get up. I have to run away, because
we re expecting people to tea; but I should have liked
staymg to talk with you. You're awfully clever aren't
you? I suppose it must be Uving ixnmi in those queer
places-Gibraltar, didn't you say? I've seen Gibraltar
but only from the steamer, on the way to Naples I felt
THE HIGH HEART
that I was with you from that very first time I saw you.
I'd seen you before, of course, with little Gladys, but not to
notice you. I never noticed you till I heard that Hugh
was in love with you. That was just before Mr. Broken-
shire took me over— you remember!— that day. He
wanted me to see how easily he could deal with people who
opposed him; but I didn't think he succeeded very well.
He made you go and sit at a distance. That was to show
you he had the power. Did you notice what I did? Oh,
I'm glad. I wanted you to understand that if it was a
question of love I was— I was with you. You saw that
didn't you? Oh, I'm glad. I must run away now!
We've people to tea; but some time, if I can manage it,
I'll oome again."
She had begun slipping up the path, like a great rose-
colored moth in the greenery, when she turned to say:
"I can never do anything for you, I'm too afraid of
him; but I'm on your side."
After she had gone I began putting two and two together.
What her visit did for me especially was to distract my
mind. I got a better perspective on my own small drama
m seeing it as incidental tc a larger one. That there was a
large one here I had no doubt, though I could neither seize
nor outline its proportions. As far as I could judge of my
visitor I found her dazed by the magnitude of the thing
that had happened to her, whatever that was. She was
good and kind; she hadn't a thought that wasn't tender;
normally she would have been tiw devoted, clinging type
of wife I longed to be myself; and yet some one's passion,
or same one's ambition, or both in collusion, had caught
her like a bird in a net.
It was peihaps because she was a woman and I was a
woman and J. Howard was a man that my reactions oon-
123
THE HIGH HEART
cemed themselves chiefly with him. I thought of him
throughout the afternoon. I began to get new views of
him. I wondered if he knew of himself what I knew. I
supposed he did. I supposed he must. He couldn't have
been married two or thrca years to this sweet stricken
creature without seeing that her heart wasn't his. Fur-
thermore, he couldn't have beheld, as he and I had beheld
that afternoon, the hand that went up palm outward,
without divining a horror of his person that was more than
a shrinking from his poor contorted eye. For love the
contorted eye would have meant more love, since it would
have been love with its cognate of pity; but not so that
uplifted hand and that instinctive waving of him back.
There was more than an involuntary repulsion in that,
more than an instant of abhorrence. What there was he
must have discovered, he must have tasted, from the
minute he first took her in his arms.
I was sorry for him. I could throw enough of the mas-
culine into my imagination to know how he must adoie
a creature of such perfected charm. She was the sort of
woman men would adore, especially the men whose ideal
lies first of all in the physical. For them it would mean
nothing that she lacked mentality, that the pendulum of
her nature had only a limited swing; that she was as good
as she looked would be enough, seeing that she looked like
an angel straight out of heaven. In spite of poor J. How-
ard's kingly suavity I knew he must have minutes of sheer
animal despair, of fierce and bitter suffering.
Mrs. Rossiter spoke to me that evening with a suggestion
of reprimand, which was letting me off easily. I was so
sure of my dismissal, that when I returned to the hciuse
from the shore I expected some sort of lettre de ccmg6; but I
found nothing. I had had supper with Gladys and put her
"4
THE HIGH HEART
to bed when the maid brought me a messa^ to say that
Mrs. Rosater would like me to come down and see her
dress, as she was going out to dinner.
I was admiring the dress, which wm a new one. when she
said, rather fretfully :
"I wish you wouldn't talk like that to father. It uo-
sets him so." ^
I was adjusting a slight fuUness at the back, which made
It the easier for me to answer.
"I wouldn't if he didn't talk like that tome. What can
X do f I have to say something. ' '
She was peering into the cheval glass over her shoulder
givmg her attention to two things at once.
"I me^ your saying you expected both of those prepos-
terous thmgs to happen. Of course, you don't-nor either
of them— and It only rubs him up the wrong way. "
I was too meek now to at^e the point. Besides I was
preoccupied with the widening interests in which I found
myself mvolved. To probe the security of my position
once more, I said:
"I wonder you stand it-that you don't send me away "
She was still twisting in front of the cheval glass
'Don'tyouthinkthatshoulder-strapisloose? Itreally
looks as if the whole thing would sUo off me. If he can
stand It I can," she added, as a matter of secondary con-
cern. •'
.. J°^'.^^ ^^ "^ ^^^ '^■" ' ^ ^^^ tJie shoulder-strap.
No I think It's all right, if you don't wriggle too much."
^ m sure It's goinpT to come down— and there I shall be
«e has to stand it, don't you see, or let you think that vott
wound him.'" "*ai,jru»
I was frankly curious.
" Do I wound him.?"
"5
THE HIGH HEART
" He'd never let you know it if you did. The fact tlut
he ignores you and lets you stay on with me is the only
thing by which I can judge. If you didn't hurt him at aU
he'd teU me to send you about your business." She turned
from the glass. " WeU, if you say that strap is all right I
suppose it must be, but I don't feel any too sure." She
was picking up her gloves and her fan which the maid had
laid out, when she said, suddenly: "If you're so keen on
getting married, for goodness' sake why don't you take
that young Strangways?"
My sensation can only be compared to that of a person
who has got a terrific blow on the head from a trip-hammer
I seemed to wonder why I hadn't been crushed or struck
dead. As it was, I felt that I could never move again from
the spot on which I stood. I was vaguely conscious of
somethmg outraged within me, and yet was too stunned to
resent It. I could only gasp, feebly, after what seemed an
mtenmnable time: " In the first place, I'm not so awfully
keen on getting married — "
She was examining her gloves.
There, that stupid Sfeaphine has put me out two lefts.
No, she hasn't; it's all right. Stuff, my dear! Every
girl is keen on getting married."
"And then," I stammered on, "Mr. Strangways baa
never given me the chance."
"Oh, weU, he will. Do hand me my wra.p, like a love "
I was putting the wrap over her shoulders as she repeated-
* Oh, well, he will. I can tell by the way he looks at you.
It would be ever so much more suitable. Jim says he'll be
a first-class man in time— if you don't rush in like an idiot
and many Hugh."
" I may marry Hugh," I tried to say, loftily, i' but I hope
I sha'n't do it like an idiot."
ia6
i
'
THE HIGH HEART
She wept toward the rtaimay, but she had left me with
TLT '°'i^?"^'^* ""tp-ly '«■ th^t evening, but for the
?™^»**"°!^- Now that the fct shock was oveJ
I managed to work up the proper sense of indignity. I
^^"^ T^'^'^'^'^'^- She shoul^t have
inenboned such a thing. I wouldn't have stood it from
one of my own sisters. I had never thought of Larry'
SteMgways m any such way, and to do so disturbed our
^e^r-.r. u ^"^ ^'^' ^ ''^"'* '" ^°^' ^'h him; and
rio^^ T'a" Z^ *°° ^^- Not that I was looking for a
nch husband; but neither was I a lunatic. It wo^d be
y^ before he could think of marrying, if there were no
oth« consideration ; and in the mean time there was Hugh
ITiere yias Hugh with his letters from Boston, full of
high Mnbitious hopes. Cousin Andrew Brew had written
from B^ Harbor that he was coming to town in aly^
Already Hugh had his eye on a little house on Beacon Hill
-so hke a comer of Mayfair. he wrote, if Mayfair stood
rv^iT^T**"^ ''''•*•"' "^'"^ be as snug as two
love-birds. I was composmg in my mind the letter I
should write to my aunt in Halifax, asking to be allowed to
come back for the wedding. '»""w«iio
I filled in the hours wondering how Larry Strangwavs
boted at me when ttere was only Mrs.^ter as"^
^. I knew how he looked at me when I was lo^
back-^ w^ with that gleaming smile which defied you
to see behmd It, as the sun defies you to see behind its raT
But I wanted to know how he looked at me when my h^
was turned another way; to know how the sun app^
w^ you «fiw It through a telesc«pe that nullifiTlS
JSr* J^" that I had only my imagination, since Le
had obtwned two or three days' leave to go to New York
127
THE HIGH HEART
to see hi« new employer. He had warned n,» t k.*_
connected v^S^ tLT.T ^^^G'^^S^ which I
Brokenshire "^^ story I had heard of Mrs.
-ladys in the Sn 2^^H n u ''"" ^'^^ting with
w.^s^'^tLTa? f t:r ''I- '' «'^^ ^' ^-' -^ own
me all at once but btbv ^ °"- ."' '''^'^ *^" '' »»
Jiim Th» „• 1 ^ °'*' ^^ "^ details occuired to
■»IT],u * "^^ with satisfactory exactitude
leaSin'; h'arcJSr^T ^'^ '^"^^ - bX before
and w4ld ie r^af tfr ^^ ^'^ "^'^^^^ '" '°wn
morning. Hugh was L"^! ''^ "* ^'«-«» °" a certain
euests among thersofto v ^""^ ^''^^ welcoi^e
-^sjuu, xiugn I (jrlad to see you. Camp Jn c.v j
138 ^
THE HIGH HEART
Hugh took the comfortable little upright ann-chair that
stood at the comer of his cousin's desk, while the latter
resumed the scat of honor. Knowing that the banker's
time was valuable, and feeling that he would reveal his
aptitude for business by going to the point at once, the
younger man began his taie. He had just reached the' fact
that he had fallen in love with a litUe girl on whose merits
he wouldn't enlarge, since all lovers had the same sort of
things to say, though he was surer of his data than others
of his kind, when there was a tinkle at the desk telephone.
"Excuse me."
During the conversation in which Cousin Andrew then
engaged Hugh was able to observe the long-established
miassuming comfort of this friendly office, which suggested
the cozy air that hangs about the smoking-rooms of good
old EngUsh inns. There was a warm worn carpet on the
floor; deep leather arm-chairs showed the effect of contact
with two generations of moneyed backs; on the walls the
Hthographed heads of Brews and Borrodailes bore witness
to the firm's respectability. In the atmosphere a faint
odor of tobacco emphasized the human associations.
Cousin Andrew emphasized them, too. "Nowl" He
put down the receiver and turned to Hugh with an air of
relief at being able to give him his attention. He was a tall,
thin man with a head like a nut. It would have been an
expressionless nut had it not been for a facile tight-lipped
smile that creased his face as stretching creases rubber.
Coming and going rapidly, it gave him the appearance of
mirth, creating at each end of a long, mobile mouth two
concentric semicircles cutting deep into the cheeks that
would have been of value to a low comedian. A slate-
colored morning suit, a white piqu^ edge to the opening of
the waistcoat a slat6K»lored tie with a pearl in it, em-
xag
THE HIGH HEART
^ote. to Cousm Andrew', character. Blended a. th^
we«. they formed a delightfully debonair combinatfe^
kv^riil^'"- ^^''^P'^ofW^'endearingqS
ity that he Idced you to «ee him as a jolly good feUowno
wlnt better than yourself. He was fond of'Sip rd ^
the hghter topics of the moment. He was also fond 3
dancng and frequented most of the gatherings. prfvaU
^2/7;^°' the cultivation of that art which CS
vo^of the year before the Great War. With his tall
hmber figure he passed for less than his age of forty-throe
till you got him at close quarters
coSl^Inn'T'i"^"^- ' ^ '^W* th"^ was an inflection of
command Hugh went on with his tale, telling of his breach
forhi::::/^" ^' ^ detennmation to go'into Ls^
"I ought to be independent, anyhow, at mv aee " he
f^T^- 'J'"r."^ °^ '^'^'- -^ ''"^ only righuo cot
fess to you that I'm a bit of a Socialist. Thkt w'on't mX
Zi T"!' ^°T^' *° °^ ^"^"^"S together, Coi^
tdlyou that I ve come to the place where I should like to
accept your kmd offer."
The statement was received with cheerful detachment.
ZS^n^!? f '^. '^^ ^^^^ ^°™^d with hii
anns on his d^, rubbing his long, thin hands together.
My kind offer? What was that?"
Hugh was slightly dashed.
bu^S*'' '"'' '°°^^ *° you if ever I wanted to go into
" Oh ! You're going into business '"
Hugh named the places and dates at which, during the
»3o ^
THE HIGH HEART
|)ut few year*, Cousin Andrew h«d oBend hia help to hia
young kinsmiin if ever it wu needed.
Cousin Andrew tossed hinaelf back in his chair with one
of his brisk, restless movements.
"Did I say that? WeU, if I did 111 stick to it." Thetw
was another tinkle at the telephone. "Excuse me."
Hugh had time for reflection and some irritation. He
had not expected to be thrust into the place of a petitioner,
or to have to make explanations galling to his pride. He
had counted not only on his cousinship, but on his position
in the world as J. Howard Brokenshire's son. It seemed to
him that Cousin Andrew was disposed to undervalue that.
"I don't want to hold you to anything you don't care
for, Cousin Andrew," he began, when his relative had again
put the receiver aside, "but I understood—"
"Oh, that's all right. I've no doubt I said it. I do
recall something of the sort, vaguely, at a time when I
thought your father might want— In any case we can fix
you up. Sure to be something you can do. When'd you
like to begin?"
Hugh expressed his willingness to be put into office at
once.
"Just so. Turn you over to old Williamson. He licks
the young ones into shape. Suppose your father '11 think
it hard of us to go against him. But on the other hand he
may be pleased— he'll know you're in safe hands."
It was a delicate thing for Hugh to attempt, but as iis i
was going into business not from an irresistible impulse
toward a financial career, but in order to make enough
money to marry on, he felt obUged to ask, in such terms as
he could command, how much money he should make.
^ "Just so !" Cousin Andrew took up the receiver again.
"Want to speak to Mr. Williamson. ... Oh, Willian*.
131
THE HIGH HEART
son. how much is Duffers getting now? Ar,^ W-.
mud. before that? ... Good! T^r ' ' ' ^^^
Hu.h T'^"^ *^^ investigations was communicated to
S i?^t^ '^"•^ Duffers-spay, and when heh^
,^!^- I ^^ "™* "" ^"^ rhiSas-s promotion. The
Ijnm^te^ertwastomakehimlookstLtledan^blS
^oi^:^^^' '''^'-■- ^* '* "'"^^^^ -vera,
Why, what did you expect?"
Hugh could only stammer:
I' I thought it would be more."
"How much more?"
cr^^trSLrh^-- ^* --'<^'>'* ^-^3^ the ludi-
;^ell. enough to Uve on as a married man at least. "
his^bSSi:.'"" ""^^ '^^ P"-^ ''^ t'^^ — o^
"What did you think you'd be worth to us-with no
backmg from your father?" "»-wjta no
The question was of the kind commonly called a ooser
a^t^T^ ^ ^'^°"^ banking-house as prirSy
fc^^^irr"^."^??"*^- It^^-^'ttobelikeworking
SntTL? !r- H^'^^P'^e^ it as becoming f
component part of a machine that turned out m^of
wiuch he would get his share, that share being i^;Z,r!
to his blood connection with the dominating p^e^
When Cousm Andrew had repeated his question -
obliged to reply
1 Hugh 1
I wasn't thinking of that so much as of what
worth to me
you'd be
133
THE HIGH HEART
"We could be worth a good deal to you in time."
There was a ray of hope.
" How long a time ?"
"Oh, twenty or thirty years, perhaps, if you work and
save. Of course, if you had capital to bring in— but you
haven't, have you? Didn't Cousin Sophy, your mother,
leave everything to your father? I thought so. Mind
you, I'm putting out of the question all thought of your
father's coming round and putting money in for you. I'm
talking of the thing on the ground on which you've put it."
Hugh had no heart to resent the quirks and grimaces in
Cousin Andrew's smile. He had all he could do in taking
his leave in a way to save his face and cast the episode be-
hind him. The banker lent himself to this effort with
good-humored grace, accompanying his relative to the door
of the room, where he shook him by the shoulder as he
turned the knob.
" Thought you'd go right in as a director ? Not the first
youngster who's had that idea, and you'll not be the last.
Good-by. Let me hear from you if you change your
mind." He called after him, as the door was about to
close: "Best try to fix it up with your father, Hugh. As
for the girl— well, there'U be others, and more in your
line."
CHAPTER DC
QN that first morning I got no more than the gist of
W vrtiat had happened during Hugh's visit to his cousin
Andrew Brew. Hugh announced it in fact by a metaphor
as soon m we had exchanged greetings and he had sat down
at the table with his ann over Gladys's shoulder
the «^" ^^^ ^' ^ ^°* '* ^^^ ^ '^'^ 8^
"WTiere was that?" I asked, imiocently, for the figure o(
speech was new to me. "euiow
"In the neck."
NeiJ«- of us laughed. His tone was so lugubrious as to
Sfw^t^^-- S"*I"«derstood. Imaysaythatby
the tmie he had given me the outline of what he had to
hLI'^^*?"^^^*^'^'- I ^eht have seen poor
Hugh 8 limitations before; but I never had. During^he
old hfe m Hahfax I had known plenty of youi^men
brought up m comfort who couldn't earn a Hving when the
tune came to do It. If I had never classed Hugh among
^t!w^' '* ""^ '^'=^"=° ^^^ Brokenshires were all so
rich that I supposed they must have some secret prescrip-
tion for wrmgmg money from the air. Besides, Hugh was
anAmencan ; and American and money were words I was
f««stomed to pronounce together. I never questioned
hM abihty to have any reasonable income he named-till
now. Now I b^an to see him as he must have seen him-
»34
THE HIGH HEART
•df during those first few minutes after turning his back oa
the parental haven, alone and in the dark.
I cannot say that for the moment I had any of the
quateisoffear. My yearning over him was too motherly
for that. I wanted to comfort and, as far as possible to
encwirage imn. Something within me whispered, too, thel
woi^. Its going to be up to me." I meant-or that' .
which ^e m me meant-that the whole position was-
reversed. I had been taking my ease hitherto, beUeving:]
that the strong young man who had asked me to matry
hun would do the necessar, work. It was to be up to him
My part was to be the passive bliss of having some one to
love me and maintain me. That Hugh loved me I knew -
that m cme way or another he would be able to maintain
me I took for granted. With a Brokenshiie, I assumed,
that would be the last of cares. And now I saw in a flash
that I was wrong; that I who was nothing but a parasite
by nature would somehow have to give my strong youne
man support. 5 j •" s
Whai all was said that he could say r"-, the moment I
tot^the responsibiUty of sending Gladys indoors with the
maid who was waiting on the table, after which I asked
Hugh to walk down the lawn with me. A stone balustrade
ran above the Cliff Walk, and here was a bit of shrubbery
where no one could observe us from the house while
pa^ on the Cliff Walk could see us only by looking up-
ward. At that hour in the morning even they were likely
to be rare. •'
"Hugh, darling," I said, "this is becoming very very
senous. You're throwing yourself out of house and 'home
and your father's good-will for my sake. We must think
about It, Hugh—" ^^
His answer was to seize me in his anns-we were suffi-
" 13s
THE HIGH HEART
dently screened frDm view-and crush his Kds »^,-„.*
mme ma way that made speech toSir'^'^
Again I must make a crmfposirm t* _ t • . .
When he got breath to say anything it was ^th ,
"I know what I'm doine little Al>V v
-to count the cost, '^e ^iS^aJZT^' ^
P-™us. Sincelhavetosufferfory^LX^"^?;;!
136
THE HIGH HEART
His embrace was enough to
"No, Hugh." I whispered,
strangle me.
"Wen, then, never ask me to think about this thing
agam. I've thought aU I'm going to. As I mean to get
you anyhow, Kttle Alix, you may as weU promise now, this
•Jeiy minute, that whatever happens you'll be my wife."
But I didn't promise. First I got him to release me on
the ground that some bathers, after a dip at Eastons
Beach, were going by, with their heads on a level with our
feet. Then I asked the natural question :
"What do you think of doing new?"
He said he was going to let no mushrooms spring in his
footsteps, and that he was taking a morning train for New
York. He talked about bankers and brokers and moneyed
thmgs m general in a way I couldn't follow, though I
could see that in spite of Cousin Andrew Brew's rejection
he still jcpected great things of himself. Like me he
seemed to feel that there was a faculty for conjuring
money m the very nam., of Brokenshire. Never having
known what it was to be without as much money as he
wanted, never having been given to suppose that such an
eventuahty could come to pass, it was perhaps not
strange that he should consider his power of commanding
a large mcome to be in the nature of things. Bankers
Mid brokers would be glad to have him as their associate
man the mere fact that he was his father's son.
I radeavored to throw a cup of cold water on too much
certamty, by saying:
• "^"^'iJ^K'i' 'J«ar, won't you have to begin at the begin-
ning? Wasn't that what your cousin Andrew Brew—?"
Cousin Andrew Brew is an ass. He's one great bie
Boston sbck-in-the-mud. He wouldn't know which side
Bis bread was buttered on, not if it was buttered on both "
137
THE HIGH HEART
^tilV I pendsted. "you'U have to begin at the begin-
"Well, I shouldn't be the first "
tasfeetintheshapeofapersonlikeme. Howmanyyea«
R-rot httle Al„!" He brought out the interjection
with a contemptuous roU. " It might be twentv ™?^T
years for a nunaskull like Duilers. L for m^'l^e^S
waj^ by which aman who-s in the business ah^d^^y^
^ht say goes skimnnng over the gtounr^e^on
^ ^\ "^^ "^"^ "* *^' gentlemen-raS!^
your own a™.y They enlist as privates, and in tw^ or
1 hat comes of their education and— •• "-"""^suon.
"That's often true, I admit. I've known of seveml
^^ my own experience. But even^lTTe
"Wouldn't you wait for me?"
sa^^^'hl^:^"''" '"^ ' ^^- «-* ^^ -
"Yes, of course, Hugh, if I promised you. And vet to
bmdj^bysuchapromisedoesn'tseemrme^"'"* '°
"You think he's bluffing then?" I thipw some r™,,.-^
tion mto my tone as I added, "I don't '' °'
;; He's not bluffing to his own knowledge ; but he i^"
to Jbv °"^ J"^'' '* ^ '°'°^'^ee that we've got
Se^t." ^''°'^""P«^*'^«^°«t.evenifwehopefor
138
THE HIGH HEART
'And what it all comes to is — "
"Is that you're facing a very hard time, Hugh, and I
don't feel that I can accept the responsibility of encourag-
ing you to do it."
"But,goodLord,Alix, you're not encouraging me. It's
the other way round. You're a perfect wet blanket;
you're an ice-water shower. I'm doing this thing on my '
own — "
"You know, Hugh, I've seen your father since you went
away."
IGs face brightened.
"Good! And did he show any signs of tacking to the
wind?"
"Not a bit. He said you would be ruined, and that I
should ruin you." i
"The deuce you will ! That's where he's got the wrong '
number, poor old dad! I hope you told him you would
marry me— and let him have it straight. ' ' '
I made no reply to that, going on to tell him all that was '
said as to bringing J. Howard to his knees.
He roared with ironic laughter.
"You did have the gall !"
•'Then you think they'll never, never accept me?"
"Not that way; not beforehand."
Hot rage rose within me, against him and them and this
scorn of my personality.
"I think they will."
"Not on your life! Dad wouldn't do it, not if I was on *
my death-bed and needed you to come and raise me up '
Milly IS the only one; and even she thinks I'm the craziest
Idiot —
"Very weU, then, Hugh," I said, quickly; "I'm afraid
we must consider it all—"
139
THE HIGH HEART
He gathered me into hi. arms aa he had done hrfonL «w4
fe* —^W'. ^"'^"^g^dtosay.whenlhadstn.ggled
tree. There s honor-^d perhaps there's oride" n
to tmooi^ously heaped on me to be able to addT^n
matter of fact, pride and honor, in me, are as insL™hi-
He was obhged to leave it there, since he hL n^aore
than the toe to catch his train for New York, ft^
how^. the ^nse of pride and honor that cahnM T;
nen^ when M^ Rossiter asked me to take liSeSZ
tosee her grandfather in the afternoon. I h^ d^ rt
«ugh had declared his love for me. If T went n^T
reasoned, it would have to be on a newioJti^^^n^ i[
r^s:fmTfS!"^^-^^'^«^*«--i^^*
We started a Uttle after three, as Gladys had to be back
n^ tl r rf °<?°"»^y at our heels, but actually
nosmg the shrubbery in front of us. or scouring thVS
-^t be w,thm eard^ot to come down and contest^
txladys wo^dd exclami from time to time, to which I
would make some suitable and instructive ^5nS."=' '
Her hand was m mme; her eyes as they laughed ud at
mewereofthecoloroftheblueconvolvul.^. InhiX
140
THE HIGH HEART
■modBBd Hberty silk, with a leghorn hat trinaned with a
wreath of tiny roses, she made me yearn for that bassinet
between which and myself there were such stormy seas to
crosr Everything was to be up to me. That was the
great aolemmty from which my mind couldn't get away I
was to be the David to confront Goliath, without so much
asashngorastone. What I was to do, and how I was to
do It, I knew no more than I knew of commanding an anny
I could only take my stand on the maxim of which I was
aaakmg a foundation-stone. I went so far as to beUeve
that if I did right more right would unfold itself It
would be like following a trail through a difficult wood a
trail of which you observe all the notches and steps and
signs, sometunes with misgivings, often with the fear that
you re astray, hue on which a moment arrives when you
Me with delight that you're coming out to the clearing
So I argued as I prattled with Gladys of such things as
were m sight, of ships and lobster-pots and Httle dogs, giv-
mg her a new word as occasion served, and trying to keep
my mmd from terrors and remote anticipations.
K you know Newport at all you know J. Howard Bro-
kenshire's place in the neighborhood of Ochre Point Any-
one would name it as you passed by. J. Howard didn't
build the house; he bought it from some people who, it
seemed, hadn't found in Newport the hospitaUty of which
they were m search. It is gloomy and fortress-like, as if
the architect had planned a Palazzo Strozei which he
hadn t the courage to carry out. That it is incongruous
with Its surroundings goes without saying; but then it is
not more mcongruous than anything else. I had been long
enough in America to see that for the man who could build
on American soil a house which would have some relation
to Its site-as they can do in Mexico, and as we do
141
M
:" !
THE HIGH HEART
£ V*^^"^ ^ C««da-£«ae and fortune wouJd
Ooe . fim m,pre«on. were of gUding and rod damaJc
m« one . eye hghted on a chest or setUe. one could smeri
foot of the great stairway ebony sUves held gilded torehw
in which were electric lights. K^-wwrcnes.
T SJ-^ ^uT*^' ^^^^ ""^^^ *o "«** Chips, and
J. Howard^who had seen our approach across the Uwn as
we «me from the Cliff Walk, emei^ed ftom the hl^ to
wdcome h« grandchild. He wore a suit of HghS.y
t^' t^irt^ **" "?P«^8ly i^dsom^ as usual. GuS
t^ greet hunmth a childish cry. On seizing her he
tossed her mto the air and kissed her ----^ "« uc
oc^W?»,*^%°^'^'*lt°^*^"^'''"*^- On previous
oc«s.ons I had done the same thing; but then I had not
i^:, r "T^^* "^^^ "^t^««d." I wondeml if to
would a«inowledge the introduction now or give me a
by the hand and returned to the Ubraiy
bef^'^7^'^^^"''^*^- It h«l happened to me
f^r; . ^ T^.^ ^^^ '"°*°*-^ till there was need
far me again. I had sometimes seated myself in one of the
hj^ eodesia^ical hall diairs. and somettTes. if^e d^
1^J° .K?""; ^ ^"^^^ °"t t° the vemnda.
^ itwas open this afternoon. I strolled toward the glimpse
milliT f^Po^'bf ty I had foreseen. Mrs. Brokenshire
r^ "r-,, ^ "^^^^ ^^' ^'° ^^« touch with the
mystery of her heart.
Mrs. Brokenshire was not on the veranda, but Mrs.
14a
THE HIGH HEART
Billing WM. She WM «ated in • law ea«y-ch«ir. reading a
Frendinowl, and had been smoldng cigarette.. Aairtlaid
ST^ ^^!S^ T*^** '^ " S"''^ "e-wtteK^e and
ash-tray, stood beside her on the led-tiled floor
I had forgotten all about her. as seemingly she had for-
goten about me. Her suiprise in seeing nie appT SL
not greater than mine at finding her. Instin<^^
.^i»>.T'-''' ^^"^^ '"^ lyi^K in her lap. J put
It down without using it.
" So it's you." was her greeting.
ml '^iST'.^"":.'""^'" ^ *t«=«>««d. respect-
MJy. I didn t know thCTe was anybody here "
.'Z.'^T *° ^'i''^^^ ^'^'^ ** '^'1' «»nn>andmgly:
spitfire. Did you kaow it ?"
nn^'^V",]'^' ^*^ *^« Quaker drawl I have
rtl^^." th« older generation of Philadelphians; but
"No. madam; I didn't."
"Wdl. you can know it now. Who are you?" She
fflade the quamt Httle gesture with ..hich I have seen
Enghsh princesses summon those they wished to talk to
Ume over here where I can get a look at you "
I moved neater, but she didn't ask me to sit down. In
answer to her question I said, simply, "I'm a Canadian."
It;sno;,lJ^"'' That's neither fish, flesh, nor fowl.
"No, madam, nothing but a point of view."
What do you mean by that ?"
I repeated something of my father's :
143
THE HIGH HEART
"TTm point o« view of the EnglUaam who miderrtandi
America or of the AmwicMj who tmdentanda England aa
one chooses to put it The Cawklian is the only oenon
who does both." ' *^^
"Oh, indeed? I'm not a Canadian— and yet I flatter
myself I know my England pretty weU."
I made so bold as to smile dimly.
"Knowing and understanding are different things
madam, aren't they? The Canadian understands AmeriM
because he is an American; he understands England be-
«use he is an Englishman. It's only of him that that can
be said. You're quite right when you label him a point of
view rather than a citizen or a subject."
" I didn't label him anything of the land. I don't know
anything about him, and I don't care. What are you be-
sides being a Canadian?"
"Nothing, madam," I said, humbly.
"Nothing? What do you mean?"
"I mean that there's nothing about me, that I have or
am, that I don't owe to my country."
"Oh, stuff! That's tlie way we used to talk in the
Umted States forty years ago."
"That's the way wo talk in Canada still, madam-and
feeL"
"Oh, well, you'U get over it as we did— when you're
more of a people."
"Most of us would prefer to be less of a people, and not
get over it."
She put up her lorgnette.
"Who was your father? What sort of people do you
come from?"
I tried to bring out my small store of personal facts, but
she paid them no attention. When I said that my father
144
VHE HIGH HEART
hiuib««n a judge of the SuprwH. Court of Nov. Scotia I
rmght have be«, calling hin, a voivode of Montei^or
th»P««dentofazen«tvo. It wa. too remote 3^^
^forherm^dtotakein. I could see her. howevT
^^ «y features, my hands, my d«ss. with the
sh^d^ eyes of a connoisseur in feminine appearance
She broke into the midst of my recital with th^^:
You can't be m love with Hugh Brokenshire."
Feanng attack from an unexpected quarter. I dasoed
my hands with some emotion. i""™^. clasped
"Oh, but. madam, why not?"
The reply nearly knocked me down
^■^Because you're too sensible a girl. He's as stupid as
'•He's ^^ good and kind." was aU I could find to say
thJT' u^^' *^" ^ «^' ^^ y°« '««k more
ySTllwr"!^ '°"'^«°°^"°'*^'^- Heavens abo^
youTl want some spice in your life I"
I maintained my meek air as I said-
an7bS."° '^*^°"* *»>« ^i** if I could be sun, of bread
r.y!'' !f r"'i? 'T'^^ ^'^ * ^°°^^ let me tell you you
won t get It. Hugh '11 never be able to offer you o^ ^
his father wouldn't let him if he was" '"»™e.«>a
I decided to be bold.
' , ZrlT ^^^ ""^^ ^ ^^ «»« °ther day. madam I
expect his father to come round" J'- »"««ni- i
it ^^^"''^ *^*"^** **^« *J^t ''*' like a hen when
"Oh. you do, do you? You don't know Howard Bro-
tl^/j" "^-^ "^ ^^ ^°^ easily S y^
I4S
THE HIGH HEART
^'*But I haven't," I returned, quietly. "Now I'm going
"How? What with? You can't try if you've nothine
to try on." ^^
"I have."
"For Heaven's sake— what?"
I was going to say, "Right"; but I knew it would sound
saitentious. I had been sententious enough in talking
about my country. Now I only smiled.
"You must let me keep that as a secret," I answered,
mildly.
She gave herself what I can only call a hitch in her chair
Then may I be there to see."
"I hope you may be, madam."
"Oh, I'll come," she cackled. "Don't wotiy about
Oiat. Just let me know. You'll have to fight like the
devil. I suppose you know that."
I-epliedthatldid.
"And when it's all over you'll have got nothing for your
pams."
" I shall have had the fight."
She looked hard at me before speaking.
"Good girl!" The tone was that of a spectator who
calls out, "Good hit!" or, "Good shot!" at a game "If
that's all you want—"
"No; I want Hugh."
"Then I hope you won't get him. He's as big a dolt
as his father, and that's saying a great deal." Terrified, I
glanced over my shoulder at the house, but she went on
impwturbably : "Oh, I know he's in there; but what do I
^? I'm not saying anything behind his back that I
haven't said to his face. He doesn't bear me any malice,
either, I'll say that for him." ^^
146
THE HIGH HEART
"Nobody could—" I began, de&rentiaUy.
"Nobody had better. But that's neither here nor there.
All I'm telling you is to have nothing to do with Hugh
Biokenshire. Never mind the money; what you need is a
J husband with brains. Don't I know? Haven't I been
through it? My husband was kind and good, just like
Hugh Brokenshire-and, O Lord! The sins of the father
are visited on the children, too. Look at my daughter^
pretty as a picture and not the brains of a white mouse."
She nodded at me fiercely. "You're my kind. I can see
that. Mind what I say— and be off."
She turned abruptly to her book, hitching her chair a
Uttle away from me. Accepting my dismissal, I said in
the third pevson, as though 1 was speaking to a royalty :
"Madam flatters me too much; but I'm glad I intruded,
for the minute, just to hear her say that. ' '
I had made my courtesy and reached the door leading
inward when she called after me :
"You're a puss. Do you know it?"
Not feeling it necessary to respond in words, I merely
smiled over my shoulder and entered the house.
In one of the big chairs I waited a half-hour before J.
Howard came out of the library with his grandchild. He
had given her a doU which she hugged in her left arm, while
her right hand was in his. The fareweU scene was pretty,
and took place in the middle of the hall.
"Now run away," he said, genially, after much kissing
and petting, "and give my love to mamma."
He might have been shooing the sweet thing off into the
air. There was no reference whatever to any one to take
care of her. His eyes rested on me, but only as they rested
on the wall behind me. I must say it was well done— if
one has to do that sort of thing at aU. FeeUng myself, as
147
m
THE HIGH HEART ~
h^ regard swept me, no more than a part of the carved
eccl^bcal chair to which I stood clingtog, I woSd
how I was ever to bring this man to seeing mf ^^
I debated the question inwardly while I chatted with
Gladys on the way homeward. I was obUged. infect to
brace myself , to r^n it out again that right w^s^S
^agatmgaadwrongnecessarilysterile. RightlfiguS
as a way which seemed to fimsh in a blind alley or cK
^. but which. ^ one neared what seemed to^ite S
led off ma new direction. Nearii« the end of that t^
wmddbestillaaawlead, and so one would go on
And, sure enough, the new lead came within the nert
W^hour. though I didn't recognize it for what it^U
CHAPTER X
AS we passed the Jack Brokenshire cottage. Latry
h^J^TlTJ^^ ^'°^^' "^^ Noble, ihe ^
tomiding bes.de them, came racing down the lawn to ove^:
take us. It was natural then that for the rest of the way
^to another, while we two elders strolled along behind
It was the hour of the day for strolling. The mellow
^«« hght was of the kind that brin?something n^^
W . ' !Tf^^ ^^ ^°^^ ^ ^^ t° ^^ ^ we knew
^tocatchrt. Itwasnotmerelythatgrassandleafand
sea had a shumner of gold on them. There was a sweet
^^tment in the atmosphere, a poignant ^za^"*
suggestion of emotions both higher and lower than those of
ourpoormortalscale. They made one reluctant to hui^
oae s footeteps. and slow in the return to that sheerly ii
^ shdter we call home. All along the path, down
^ngthe rocks, out m the water, up on the lawn;, there
w«e people, g«itle and simple alike, who lingered and
Idled and paused to steep themselves in this m^^
I have to admit that we followed their example. Anv-
t^ s^ as an excuse for it. the dogs and the childmi
d^g therefrom a sinnlar instinct. I got the impres-
^teo^that my oompamon was less in the throes of the
<H«MtKmire had imposed upon ourselves, for the reason
149
i
iff
THE HIGH HEART
even if r had mliicted^^^l'^S' ""'^"^
I was more than piqued ^ exasperating.
anS iL'Ti tSia °^S: S" ^ ^^ ^-"^
Hehad seen <?t!<^ ■ "'^'^'y ^^s enthusiastic.
hen^SL ^ "^^^ and was eager to be his
"He's got that about him," he dedar«1 "<■»,.+
•n^eanybodygladtoworkfehi^" • *^* '^^^'^
wiS'^njSt^:s^Tr"'^r^^^
_' "^""^^K short of seismic convulsion of the wi^
econonucworldwaslikelytoknockhimoff lat^e,^
It was the gr^at-gxandfather of J. Howard who appar-
150 ^*~'
IsifiE
THE HIGH HEART
enay had laid the foundation-stone on which later eenem-
b^ bmlt so well. That patriarch, so I und«S^S
be^af^er in the Connecticut VaUey. H^^^^
fi^was no more «»teric than that of lending out sm^
«^ of money at a high rate of interest. OccasionaChe
took m«tgages on his neighbors' farms, with tTSt
Wiethe suburbs of a dty had spread over one rf the
posse^^us acquired, the foundation-stone tTwScil
have i^erred might have been considered weU andSy
Alxrat the year 1830, his son migrated to New York
bLS^^^,, continents, was founded when Van
Buren was m the presidential seat and Victoria just coming
to the throne. It seems there was a Meek in those days
SKttS.r"'"^-^-^^-^^^-^^
oei^s^-t^-:----^^-^
W ofMeek & Brokenshire forged to^^^r^^
r£^.°fi'^'°T- ^"°™^EuropeanaiBli ions.
Xt became tiie financial representative of a great Eur.oean
^:.^ "• B'^kenshire, whose na^was^^
gujied from that of his more famous son only b^a dS-
Utbon of mitialshadahouseat Hyde Park C^nL as well
^onem New York. He was the fii^ American banker
to become something of an international magnate The
devdopment of his country made him sT With the
vaed questions of slavery and secession settled, with
«ie phenomenal expansion of the West, with the freer
h^H«°L^ ^"^ electricity, with the tightening of
bonds between the two hemispheres, that pedestal was
" 151
THE HIGH HEART
being raised on which J. Howaid was to poee'with
such decorative effectiveness.
H:s poring began on his father's death in the year 1808
tte p^bemg occupied now by his younger brother James
Pohshed manners, a splendid appearance, and an authori
totive a-r imported to New York a touch of the CouZf
St. James's. Mrs. Billing had called him a dolTp^-
haps he was one. If so he was a dolt raised up and bus-
tamed by aU that was powerful in the United Sta^. 1^
ZJIill^"^ r* ^"""'^^ "^^^ than with the man
hnnself that, as Larry Strangways talked, I began to see I
was m conflict. * w see 1
In Stacy Grainger. I gathered, the contemporaneous
^tol^ent of the country had produced ^t^
Affect, just ^ &e same pie«, of ground will grow^
oak or a rose-bush, according to the seed. People with
W^^' 1 ^f !*?«8^ays considered this description be-
low the level of the ancestral Grainger's occupation, fe
tte days of scattered farms and difficult communication
throughout Il^ois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota^^gW
bett^ have been tenned an itinerant merchant. He w^
the travelmg salesman who delivered the goods. HU
^ysbemgmade by river boats and ox-teai^s, hebeS^
^Z.^\T^'^°^''^- H^wasofthe^oup^
^^lV^^°^ ^"^y^' ^«« °f whichTailrfSd
^of which succeeded, through the regions west of Lake
^tr " the incipient Chicago. Ss wander^
y^ havmg given hmi an idea of the value of this^
point, he put his savings into land. The phoenix rise of the
City after the great fire made him a man of sonH^S!
IS*
THE HIGH HEART
Out of the financial crash of 1873 he oecame richer. His
son grew ncher stiU on the panic of 1893, when he too
desc^xl^lonNewYork. It was he whoL^S a ji.^
on the Stock Exchange and bought the big houL^^
wluch parts of my narrative will have to do
St™!!l''^',*° ^l ""^ " *'^* ^ ^ ^'""«d with Larry
Stra^ays along that sunny walk, and as he ran on about
fZ^fT" ^'^f'^^S^'-. I sot my first bit of insight
mto the mimense American romance which the nineteenth
^'.IV^ f"* *,'™ ^ ""y ^^^ I '^'^^ that there
bSSiS ^^^'""^""''^''"*'^^^^°^*«
I could see that Larry Strangways was proud-proud
^de was m the way in which he held his fine young head;
STnTv "^"^ "". ^ *°"^' ^"^ "°^ and then in the
It was about the country that he talked-its growth its
v^ness. Even as recently as when he was a Kw2
?o moTr.'"^"' *"°^' '^^ " P^P'^tion reckLed ^
no more than seventy or eighty millions. It had been
^ogeneous m ^irit if not in blood, and those who^
accepted their new situation with some gratitude Patri
ST.^ ""^ a w^ with a meaning, ^d if it now ^
then became spread-eagleism it was only as the wa^
^thrown too far inland become froth. The wl^^
the thing and it hadn't ebbed. ine wave was
"And do you think it has ebbed now?" I asked.
" w * *°^'^ ^'^^ question directly.
We're becoming colossal. We shall soon count our
people by the hundred milUon and more. Of these X
>S3
THE HIGH HEART
I tried to be encounging.
'■You seem to me anything but that."
fe^ peoples in the world more indivSy dili^TtC
J^fW«. and a pr^ ;„ any^^X STtol^S:
^^you ti^thlscountryis on the way tobelngthe
"Idon't say on the way. There's danger of it In
Iw>Portion as we too become unwieldy anlnv«*^ *^
-«J^tion of that national imX thSfiTStl^
ffows slower. The elephant is a heavily mo^ag^S
comparison with the lion." "wnag oeasc m
'But it's the more intellieent " T nr^,^ _i_ii . .
dispositiontobeencomS^ I argued, still with a
^teUigenoe won't save it when the lion leaps on its
"Then what will?"
"That's what we want to find out."
IS4
THE HIGH HEART
"And bem are you going to do it ?"
I'Byinen. We've come to a time when the country is
^ to need stronger men than it ever had, and more of
I WKWse it is because I am a woman that I have to
Ming aU questions to the personal.
"And is your Stacy CJrainger going to be one?"
^He walked on a few paces without replying, his head in
"No," he said, at last, "I don't think bo. He's got a
weakness.
"What kind of weakness?"
"rm not going to tell you," he laughed. "It'senoueh
to say that It s one which I think will put him out of com-
misaonforthejob." He gave me some inkling, however
of what he meant when lie added: "The country's comine
to a place where it wiU need disinterested men, and whol^
hearted mm and dean-hearted men, if it's going to puU
through. It s extraordinary how deficient we've been in
leaders whove had any of these characteristics, to say
nothing of all three." '
" Is the United States singular in that ?"
t ^tuT^ ^ * half-jesting tone, probably to hide the
tact that he was so much in earnest.
"No; perhaps not. But it's got to have them if it's
gomg to be saved. Moreover," he went on. "it must find
than among the young men. The older men are all steeped
Md branded and tarred and feathered with the mate-
njJ«m of the nineteenth century. They're perfectly
sodden. They see no patriotism except in loyalty to a
pohtiaU machine; and no loyalty to a poUtical machine
Mcept for what they can get out of it. From our Presi-
dents down most of them will sacrifice any law of right to
iSS
'
THE HIGH HEART
S ^Z"^-^^^ ^' «ali« that dde ti^e.
w«a ««do«r older men wm never leam the factyK^
can t wake the younger men. we'« done for." "^^ " **
„ ™*^ *^ you going to wake them r
Im going to be awake myself. That's aM T «- k.
?S^"h£;. "^-^^-^^er^^fh^s^aS
'm^^^"^^^ I should think you could."
^Hetan.edroundonme. I shall never forget the gleam
thinS'oT? '"J^.B^S to g«t away with this thing who
^ of leadership. There a« times in the hist^c^
It .^ ^ • "M ^ *^*^* *^* *^« « approaS
LS-Tn?*° ^"^ ^ °"^ -^y ^d to'^eriS
fTTh;^*.'*!!r°« *»«"»•'■ There'Ubeacallfor-
I wascunous.
Hfi:^ tr^:^^:^-''^ c^-tionr
f^ ^ Ti?°* ^ "*" ^""^ '''^t tWs country stands
•Z^ ^y,-"^" ^ i' ""^ "^^"^ thick^'*^?
SrL?i.^ r^ *""'" ^ thi'^k-plenty of them
^LK th«re had been ten righteous men in Sodom and
Gomortah ^ey wouldn't have been destroyed. I take
t^akmdoffigure. A handful of disint«4ted. wh^J
Sd^l"^^ ^ P"'"'" ^ °"Sht to add stout
2t L u ! . ' ^°^ ^«*^ *" «^°rts. within and with-
out, to pull rt down." He paused in his walk. obliiT,
IS6
THE HIGH HEART
*"-^*!!".*T»- "I''« >*«» «"inW'« » good deal." he
^ed, dunng the part few week! o( your Uw of Right-
wrtha capital. I laughed at it when you lint ipoke of
"Oh, hardly that," I interposed.
"But I've come to believe that it will work."
"I'm 80 glad."
" In fact, it's the only thing that will work."
"Exactly," I exclaimed, enthusiastically.
"We must stand by it, we younger men, just as the
younger men of the late fifties stood by the principles
represented by Lincoln. I believe in my heart that the
need is going to be greater for us than it was for them, and
If we don't respond to it, then may the Lord have mercv
on our souls."
I give this scrap of conversation because it introduced
a new note into my knowledge of Americans. I had not
supposed that any Americans felt like that. In the Ros-
siter circle I never saw anything but an immense self-
satisfaction. Money and what money could do was, I am
sure, the only topic of their thought. Their ideas of pod-
tion and privily were all spuriously European. Nothinit
was mdigenous. Except for their sense erf money, their
anns were as foreign to the soil as their pictures, their
tapestnes, their furniture, and their clothes. Even
stranger I found the imitation of Europe in tastes which
Eurqpe was daily giving up. But in Larry otrangways, it
seemed to me, I found something native, something that
really hved and cared. It caused me to look at him with a
new mterest.
His jesting tone allowed me to take my cue in the same
vein.
"I'm tremendously flattered, Mr. Strangways, that you
157
ill:
THE HIGH HEART
He l«a«hed shortly a^ rmtherlumlly.
Oh. It it was only that I"
JtZV.T'^ <rf the thing. I wiri«d he hadn't «id
but with the word, he rtarted on again. walldngrfLnor
afcw pace, that I nmde no eflForT to ktep^^S^l^
WI^ waited tiU I rejoined him we feS^ to t£
of Stacy Grainger. At the fi«t opportmTl Mtadttf
q««sfaon that wa. chiefly on my mind *^
He marched on, with head eract
sJ^^X^'"^' '^-'^"^. ^^ - tiU
There was a big fight, wasn't there," I persisted "h^
^e«jhnnand Mr. Brokenshir^ver k^^nS-t
the Stock Exchange-^ something like that?" ^^^^
Again he allowed some seconds to go by.
So I've heard."
»«*edine, I could hardly teU from where.
Uidn t Mr. Brokenshiie attack his intM«t«_„-i
and Steel and thiags-^d near^SS^^^''*^
I beheve there was some such talk "
I admired the way in which he refused to lend himself to
^^A *^^ '?*"'= but I insisted on ^^
because the idea of this conflict of modem m»„r» ^.J^'
from ^t * t^ ^"- ^^S '"^^ ~^d ^Tf S;
Te^.T''v.'^"^*°'^e'^°e«"derto-?"
•■G^!!?' "".'""* "^"^ ^^ «^^°S '' ^°a>er twist.
Grmngers been unlucky. His whole famaThave
158
THE HIGH HEART
been unlucky. It't an intUnce o£ tragedy haunting a
race nch as one reads o£ in mythology and now and then
in modem history— the house of Atreus. for ejcample, and
the Stuarts, and f'.c Hapabuigs, and so on."
I questioned -.n u to thia, only to learn of a aeries of
accidents,iuif 1. c.,.ii<; ,m o :cn '.jaths, leaving Stacy as the
last <rf his lir< ' ' I'.c.y and |..c m. que.
At the fo . oi ine oUis 1 adu 'jp to the Roeiaiter lawn
Larry Stram wjvs f'ni^ti ., - ;., Jhe children and dogs
having pi ceded - •.. I ;,..„. ,,fe on their own grounds,
we could Loni'dt' '.Iic.nofTourminds.
"What do >ou k low hcYut old books?" he asked
suddenly. '
The question to<.k ,ae so much by surprise that I could
only say:
"What makes you think I know anything?"
"Didn't your father have a library full of them? And
didn't you catalogue them and seU them in London?"
I admitted this, but added that even that undertaking
had left me very ignorant of the subject.
"Yes; but it's a beginning. If you know the Greek or
Russian alphabet it's a very good point from whidi to go
on and learn the language."
"But why should I learn that language?"
"Because I know a man who's going to have a vacancy
soon for a librarian. It's a private library, rather a
famous one in New York, and the young lady at present in
command is leaving to be married."
I smiled pleasantly.
"Yes; but what has that got to do with me?"
"Didn't I tell you I was going to look you up another
job?"
"Oh I And so you've looked me up this!"
»59
THE HIGH HEART
lij; >'
Amenoan splurge. Stacy GiairJ^w^H^ ^* ^^*
Chinese jar fr«m time iJthT^)^^^ a rug or a
for the lot." °'"*™«' •»*'»« doesn't give a hang
"Oh, so it's his."
^Z; tttolJffi ^affpittt ?. ^-* «•"
W the very young ladyfeXp^?.*° -^ *^* ^ ^
he do something ^T^g^J^fl* '^ ««>-^d. couldn't
"WhypoorHugh? I thought he wa^"
turi^g to tjr^y Ht^r"*«'^' ""^ "^ ^ Boston, ven-
po^ble ad^4f ^^^'^^^ f- the sake of some
iJioulders. Strangways only shrugged his
"Of course," he said "What ^.u
was sure he was lootoi^ H J!^ ^. ^°^ ^P^^" I
M«. RossiterSdeSTTw .^*^ ^'^ ^^P"^""
eye to catch hTin £S* ^"t r^t * '"^ *° "'^ ^
jjijjj,,. <a«acc. xou really mean to marry
"Mean to marry him is not th«. t»n». - t
the decision w^Helt^rl^^S^ir-^'-th
to many him only-^ conditions" '°'- ^""^
I^SStT' ^*»^d of contritions?"
-xfHS:r^SdZie:^ - --
He repeated his short, hard laugh
I don t beUeve you had better bank on that "
Perhaps not," I admitted "B^t^ lu
to my bow H« fo-^T^ ' ^ ^ another strinjt
^yoow. Htt family may come and ask me"
i6o
THE HIGH HEART
He almost shouted.
"Neverl"
It was the tone they all took, and which espedally
enraged me. I kept my voice steady, however, as I said,
"That remains to be seen."
"It doesn't remain to be seen, because I can tell you
now that they won't."
"And I can tell you now that they will," I said, with an
assurance that, on the surface at least, was quite as strong
as his own.
He laughed again, more shortly, mote hardly.
"Oh, well!"
The laugh ended in a kind of sigh. I noted the sigh as I
noted the laugh, and their relation to each other. Both
reached me, touching something within me that had never
yet been stirred. Physically it was like the prick of the
spur to a spirited animal, it sent me bounding up the
steps. I was oif as from a danger; and though I would
have given much r . see the ejcpression with which he stood
gazing after me, I would not permit myself so much as to
glance back.
ill
CHAPTER XI
much d««l wcUd fc tol^ ^°^ "^^ ■» *"° ""!■
reached Newr>ot+ r^fThT^ 'mienable. The reports that
-d B:^ street. <^T^t'Z7X"' " ""^ '*^'
fair speeches but he fn,,^^ ^^ °^ half-promises and
received at the hands oTc™,^^ a^ ta;eatment he had
ute his card wen^nt."^'^^ Brew. Themin-
tight thing to offer 1'. ^^^l^^''^ ^ ^^
was explained to him that it 1^7 , ^ ^°'^- ^^
102
THE HIGH HEART
tte yeaj>-«nd of the lack of an opening which it would
be worth the while of a man of hia quality to fill. Later,
perhapsl The two words, courteously spoken, gave
the gist of all his interviews. He had every reason to
feel satisfied.
In the mean while he was comfortable at his dub— his
cash m hand would hold out to Christmas and beyond-
and m the matter of energy, he wrote, not a mushitxm was,
spnngmg m his tracks. He was on the job early and late
day m and day out. The off season which was obviously
a disadvantage in some respects had its merits in others
smoe It would be known, when things began to look up
agam, that he was available for any big house that could
get him. That there would be competition in this respect
every one had given him to understand. All this he told
me m letters as full of love as they were of business, written
in a great, sprawling, unformed, boyish hand, ^d with an
occasional bit of phonetic spelling which made his pro-
testations the more touching.
But Jim Rossiter's sources of information were of
another kind.
"Get your father to Jo something to stop him " he
wrote to his wife. "He's making the whole houU of
Meek & Brokenshire a laughing-stock."
There came, in fact, a Saturday when Mr. Rossiter actu-
ally appeared for the week-end.
"He wouldn't be doing that," Mrs. Rossiter ahnost
sobbed to me, on receipt of the telegram announcing his
approach, "unless things were pretty bad."
Though I dreaded his coming, I was speedily reassured
Whatever the object of Mr. Rossiter's visit, I, in my own
pereon, had nothing to do with it. On the afternoon of his
amval he came out to where I was knocking the croquet
163
I
THE HIGH HEART
balb al»at with Gladys on the kwn. and was as oolite «
to had been through the winter in N«. ^"S ™
Jovial *-WvTcouJii^^BS.°HTS: Ht^
sru^,^i^rhifhSrrsi"^^^^--
o/w='r,!^^'^'''^y'^^'^t««i«pn°w. He talked
Exi^ .^ "^"^ ^"^ *^« beastly cooking at^
Expecting bm to broach the subject of HuTf Jf^i
ready; but he did nothing of the k^d w^ ^^"^^
2SSich2?J7*'T°'"^^*^*^-'^fl-*Si
•."or oeseectungs and cajolenes. He was tn o™,,-. 4.« u-
^■. he was to be delt to his fa^^ ^e^ to ^S
had put him through most of the tortures known to
164
THE HIGH HEART
fraternal inquisitioii; but he wrote me he would bear it all
and more, for the sake of wimiing me.
Nor would he allow them to have everything their own
way. That he wrote me, too. When it came to the ques-
tion of marriage he bade them look at home. Each of
them was an instance of what J. Howard could do in the
matrimonial line, and what a mess he and they had made of
it! He asked Jack in so many words how much he would
have been in love with Pauline Gray if she hadn't had a big
fortune, and, now that he had got her money and her, how
true he was to his compact. Who were Tiixie Delorme
and Baby Sevan, he demanded, with a knowledge of
Jack's afiairs which ccanpelled the elder brother to tell
him to mind his own business.
Hugh laughed scornfully at that.
"I can mind my own business. Jack, and still keep an
eye on yours, seeing that you and Pauline are the talk of
the town. K she doesn't divorce you within the next five
years, it will be because you've already divorced her.
Even that won't be as big a scandal as your going on
living together."
Mr. Rossiter intei vened on this and did his best to cahn
the younger brother down :
"Ah, cut that out now, HughP'
But Hugh rounded on him, shaking off the hand that
had been laid on his arm.
"You're a nice one, Jim, to come with jrour mealy-
mouthed talk to me. Look at Ethel! If I'd married a
woman as you married het^-or if I'd been married as she
married you— just because your father was a partner in
Meek & Brokenshire and it was well to keep the money in
the family^-if I'd done that I'd shut up. I'd consider
myself too low-down a cur to be kicked. What kind of a
rfs
TOT HIGH HEART
non-committal wav T »«„<.„ T^ "« mce to me in her
and wa. working oT^e iSrtaTo?'.""' *tf
anmcidenthastenedmydepS^ ' ^ ^°"^' "^
P^^a^o-SlreL^-roS^^^^
by m an open motor landaulette -5^1 • ' 7.^ ^°^
st^. and poking the SSSfin ttb^^^J"
I greeting She began to stir things round in her
Oa«- I thought you'd Uke it. I've been^- ^
about with me for the last three or C ^Z^T^„ '*
Ja^ Brokenshire got back from New Yorn^^T
dickens is the thing? Ah herei" <5},A J ^ **
i66
THE HIGH HEART
By the time I got back to Mrs. Rossiter's I had solved
what had at first been a puzzle, and, having reported
on my errand, I gave my resignation verbally. I saw then
-^hat old Mrs. Billing had also seen— that it was time.
Mrs. Rossiter expressed no relief, but she made no attempt
todissuademe. That she was sorry she allowed me to see.
She didn't speak of Hugh; but on the morning when I
went she gave up her engagements to stay at home with
me. As I said good-by she threw her anns round my
neck and kissed me. I could feel on my cheek tears of
hers as well as tears of my own, as I drew down my veil.
Hugh met me at the station in New York, and we dined
at a restaurant together. He came for me next morning,
and we lunched and dined at restaurants again. When
we did the smne on the third day that sense of being in a
false position which had been with me from the first, and
which argument couldn't counteract, began to be dis-
quieting. On the fourth day I tried to make excuses and
remain at the hotel, but when he insisted I was obliged
to let him take me out once more. The people at the
Mary Chilton were kindly, but I was afraid they would
regard me with suspicion. I was afraid of some other
things, besides.
For one thing I was afraid of Hugh. He began again to
idead with me to marry him. Even he admitted that we
couldn't continue to "go round together like that." We
went to the most expensive restaurants, he argued, where
there were plenty of people who would know him. When
they saw him every day with a girl they didn't know, they
would draw their own conclusions. As in a situation
similar to theirs I would have drawn my own, I brought
my bit of Bohemianism to a speedy end.
There followed some days during which it seemed to me
" 167
THE HIGH HEART
Never tJJI tlusa had I «»^^u *'** ^ ^" living for
-ch day « ,i^\^^^ ^ no««, eS^;
«^- Here the link wLl^^lL'^ «*«»«» inor-
"'hea I went to bed; I hJ^hJ. f ""^^ ""^
mentahead. IftheconttoX^w1^^°°*^*'*^op-
t° «« Lany St«^^^rr^^8ofrighton whiX
'^tocometoa3iTo„^^°"' ^ had banked,
duty, but wfthout S SSf ♦ '^' °°* °^y ^^«^
latter 1 di^ed m^ ^J^^T^^^^^^it^^O^
^ Within oneT^SthcS^ ,r '^/,r "" ' "^-
«^g to the last stretches of „1,^ ^1 ^"^ « I was
^ love with xne^ r^ S)*/^* ^« '^''t be
only knew I was T ,1 J J?^, 7^^' ^ didn't know I
M... Rossit.randS1^:2^V'''^°"'^'>«'^^
side^ that I Vrsw^^J^P"^' f New Yoric I oT
.and hehinself waitingT^^^- ^"* »«« was his caid.
NatmaUy my fer?„^^'^K-«»m below.
-e-t. 'nnshrSS^^'^^^.h<-hehadfo«„d
'"th me for coming to tte^'tft^f^ *° '^ «^°y«l
««Jd see, however, ^ he tl ?^ ^°"* ^^« ^- I
allow of hi3 being Si; ^^«^««ch too high to
P«»n^weUwithhiin^^^^T*^^y«^- ^
HeMjoyedhisworicandforhis
THE HIGH HEART
emi^yer he had that eager penonal devotion which ia m1-
wayt a herald <rf success. After having run away fian
him, as it were, I was now a little irritated at seeing that he
hadn't missed me.
But he did not take his leave without a bit of inf onnation
that puzded me beyond expression. He was going out of
Mr. Grainger's office that morning, he said, with a bundle
of letters which he was to answer, when his master
observed, casually:
"The young lady of whom you spoke to me as qualified
to take Miss Davis's place is at the Hotel Mary Chilton.
Go and see her and get her opinion as to accepting the
job I"
I was what the French call a««r&— knocked flat
"But how on earth could he know?"
Larry Strangways laughed.
"Oh, don't ask me. He knows anything he wants to
know. He's got the flair of a detective. I don't try to
fathom him. But the point is that the position is there
for you to take or to leave."
I tried to bring my mind back from the fact that this
important man, a total stranger to me, was in some way
interested in my destiny.
"What can I do but leave it, when I know no more about
it than I do of sailing a ship?"
"Oh yes, you do. You know what books are, and you
know what rare books are. For the rest, all you'd have to
do would be to consult the catalogue. I don't know what
thedutiesare; but if Miss Davis is up to them I guess you
would be, too. She's a sweet, pretty kitten of a thing—
dmghter of one of Stacy Grainger's old pals who came to
grief— but I don't believe she knows much more about a
book than the cover from the print. Anyhow, I've given
169
m
I
THE HIGH HEART
that I could d»ow youwh« (STk!^ "^ '""> «•• «>
niinute. away. rvTnlrtii ^''^ ^' It's not tea
kn<«« whatitlooLlk^ "^ "^"^ '*' ««t emy ^
at the office." ^ **" ^~^« » message for him
stStTirSj^l^lSj-^^-neofthec^ss.
««* Stacy Grainger^ W^^T^T Jl ^^''^
Avenue and a coiresponX ^L!l^! '^ '^ ^^
down-town. It isTbig b^w^fr * '?**'' ^"^^
teen-seventy style of the t3T^ ''°^' " the eigh-
^edi„tooffiL-S^S£'^«»-<?'thasb£.
Winded in a yellowish tXd ^*^ ^^ T'r '"^
bujlding an aspect sealed anddeS^' ^ ^ *° ** ""^
I shuddered. ^^'
;;i^bopeIdaouldn'thave to work there."
i>o. iiie house has been =1,..*
S^ the hotel ovXSt£"l"P^"^y^" He
9«wger actuaUy lived -^vv!, , ^* '''^^ ^tacy
t^ place; but he has a lot of^^^^ ^^ "^"^^ ^^^ «>«
?f the two or three d^otiS Tv'*? """"* ^'^^ ^•
-tense is to his father^mSy /bS' """'J *« -"^
fommitted suicide in that E'ani^^ *^ "'"^ ^^<^
he would a grave." ^^ ^' *°^ <*««« hallows it as
"Cheerful!"
170
THE HIGH HEART
"Oh, dieerful Wt the word one would iMocUta with
hmfifft— "
"OrlMt,»pparetttIy."
"I^, or last; but he's got other qualities to which
«»erfuhiess is as small change to grid. Alllwantyouto
see u that he keeps this property, which is worth half a
fflilhon at the least, from motives whfch the immense
majority wouldn't uadetitand. It gives you a ch» to the
num."
"But what I want." I said, with nervous flippancy, for
I was afraid of meeting Hugh, "is a due to the Ubrary."
"There it is."
"That?"
He had pointed to a small, low, rectangular building I
had seen a hundred times, without the curiosity to wonder
what it was. It stood behind the house, in the center of
a grass-plot, and was approached from the cross-street,
through a small wrought-iron gate. Built of brownstone,
wthout a window, and with no other ornament than a
friesem relief below the eave, it suggested a tomb. At the
bade was a kind of covered doister connecting with the
"If I had to sit in there all day," I commented, as we
turned back toward the hotd, " I should feel as if I were
buried alive. I know that strange things would happen-
tome!"
"Oh no, they wouldn't. It's sure to be all right or a
pretty little thing like Miss Davis couldn't have stood it
for three years. It's Hghted from the top, and there are a
lot of fine things scattered about."
He gave me a brief history of how the collection had been
tonaed. The dder Grainger on coming to New York had
bought up the contents of two or three great European
171
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■ 2.2
jig-
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1653 East Wain Street
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(716) 2flB- 5989 - Fij«
THE HIGH HEART
sales en bloc. He knew little about the objects he had thus
acquired, and cared less. His motive was simply that of
the rich American to play the nobleman.
He was still talking of this when Hugh passed us and
turned round. Between the two men there was a stiff
form of greeting. That is, it was stiff on I^arry Strang-
ways's side, while on Hugh's it was the nearest thing to no
greeting at all. I could see he considered the tutor of his
sister's son beneath him.
"What the devil were you walking with that fellow for?"
he asked, after Mr. Strangways had left us and while we
were continuing our way up-town. He spoke wondering-
ly rather than impatiently.
"Because he had come from a gentleman who had
offered me employment. I had just gone down with
him to look at the outside of the house."
I could hardly be surprised that Hugh should stop
abruptly, forcing the stream of foot-passengers to divide
into two currents about us.
"The impertinent bounder! Offer employment— to
you — my— my wife!"
I walked on with dignity.
" You mustn't call me that, Hugh. It's a word only to
be used in its exact signification." He began to apologize,
but I interrupted. "I'm not only not your wife, but as
yet I haven't even promised to marry you. We must keep
that fact unmistakably clear before us. It will prevent
possible complications in the end."
He spoke humbly:
"What sort of complications?"
"I don't know; but I can see they might arise. And
as for the matter of employment, I mtist have it for a lot
of reasons."
I7»
THE HIGH HEART
" I don't see that. Give me two or three months, AHx !"
"But it's precisely during those two or three months,
Hugh, that I should be left high and dry. Unless I have
something to do I have no motive for staying here in
New York."
"What about me?"
"I can't stay jvist to see you. That's the difierence
between a woman and a man. The situation is awkward
enough as it is; but if I were to go on living here for two (»'
three months, merely for the sake of having a few hours
every day with you — "
Before we reached the Park he saw the justice of my ar-
gument. Remembering what Larry Strangways had once
said as to Hugh's belief that he was stooping to pick his
diamond out of the mire, I reasoned that since he was mar-
rying a working-girl it would best preserve the decencies if
the working-girl were working. For this procedure Hugh
himself was able to establish precedent, since we were in
sight of the very hotel where Libby Jaynes had rubbed
men's nails up to within an hour or two of her marriage to
Tracy Allen. He pointed it out as if it was an historic
monument, and in the same spirit I gazed at it.
That matter settled, I attacked another as we advanced
farther into the Park.
"And Mr. Strangways is not a bounder, Hugh, darling.
I wish you wouldn't call him that."
His response was sufficiently good-natured, but it ex-
pressed that Brokenshire disdain for everjrthing that
didn't have money which specially enraged me.
"Well, I won't," he conceded. "I don't care a hang
what he is."
"I do," I declared, with some tartness. "I care that
he's a gentleman and that he's treated as one."
173
THE HIGH HEART
"Oh, every one's a gentleman."
New YOTk who could buy and sell Mr. Strangways a
thousand tunes, perhaps a miUion times ov^TSTwho
wouldn't be worthy to valet him "
ticSgr" ^^"'""^ ""' ""^ "*^ *^*^ "^ "* '»''**-
W;io'SyS'mJ^r ""' """ "■«'•* "^ ^ New York.
into a corner, I beat a shuffling retreat.
" ^ 1°:'* .™®^ ^y °°^ '" particular. I'm speaWne in
ff^ V^J^^-^ed an empty benS^^th"
aftonoon was hot, H suggested that we sit down.
o^i^^^"^'!^'^' ''^^' ''^ ''« ^«J the
question I had been expecting.
"Who was the person who ofifered you the~the-"
I saw how he hated the word-"the employment?"
^h;^A^^ ^^^^ *° ^^^ °° knowledge of matte.^
which didn't concern me. -"i.«rs
"It's a Mr Grainger," I said, as casually as I could.
As he sat close to me I could feel him start
Not Stacy Grainger?"
I maintained my tone of indifference
"I Onnk that is his name. Do you know him? He
seems to be some one of importance "
"Oh, he is."
JJ^ Strangways has gone to him as secretary and, I
Stt^, taowmg th. . . was out of a sit-^ticThe mi^t
nave mentioned me."
"For what?"
"As I und«^tand it, it's librarian. It seems that this
Mr. Gramger has quite a collection—"
174
THE HIGH HEART
time?vSt;<Jto£'.« "^ he ranged sflent for so„,e
auLt-^L^W ^^"^ objections, but he only said
1 He?n^:^^^ ""^"^'^ •-- -«=^ *° •'^ w^*
nol^'c:;' '"'''^ ""*•" ' ^^«^ ^ ^. and Hugh said
„ "l!!!f,"° °'°^' l^t r ««Jd see that it was because he
was wresthng w,th a subject of which he coullS^jJ
A half-hour later, as we were on our way homeward he
exda^ed sudd^Jy. and apropos of nothing a™
shoo^' W' ''^'^^^^ l°ve anybody else I'd-I'd
His innocent boyish, inexperienced face wore such a
Stit'^"^*^*'^"^'^^- I laughed to concSlhe
tact that I was near to crying.
"Oh no, you wouldn't, Hugh. Besides v™, ^^^'*
any likelihood of my doing itT ' ^^ '^°" * "^
;;rm not so sure about that," he grumbled.
Well, I am, Hugh, dear." I laughed aeain "T-™
no mtention of loving any one else-tSl I Wtled mv
account with your father." ^^
I
, It
CHAPTER XII
jy^EARLY a week later, in the r-iddle of a hot afternoon
th\jT't^ ^ ^« chopping to wait for S^t
the hotel. Though it was a half-hour before I e^^t^
the r«»ption-room. It was not only cool and restftJ thll
I took the place to be empty. Having gone to a n^r for
^ent to straighten my hat and L'ooth the^^
teadnk of my hiur, so that I shouldn't look dishS
I^^ JIT'^' ' '^'^ "'y^'^ «*° ^ ann-chain
«„i T^!f^J^^^ ""^ ^"•'"•^^ ^^ anything but graceful
^dttatlsighed. Isighedmo^thanonceLdsc^S^t'
M^LJ ^,^«Pf^. ^d as usual when depres^ i
felt small and desolate. It would have been a r^/
S:id2 \'^t' °^ '^'^^ ^ was e^g Hu^^^ *J
could only toss about in my big chair and rive uttP«r,~ f
my pent-up heart a Uttle t^ ej^losive^ ^ ^^* **
"was five or six days since Larry Strangways's call ar,H
no real development of my bh^ey wS^ifs gS^' He
^s ^'H^hiid^ ir"?i ^^ \s
ri^*' " ^^-^..^ca^yir-
n wasn t that I was eager to be Stacy Grainger's librarian •
ilZ'^l ^^^ ""*^ something to hap^n, Z^
that would :ustrfy my staying in New York Xugust h^
176
i
THE HIGH HEART
sS ^^ "^'\^. ~^« « ^* September
I saw the
was no new
nJ^r hVJ!h°^*^.°^ *'^*' <Jid I see any new life for
in^ Rotr J f ^ ™^y P«°P'« have found sicken
summons by evenr deUv^L^f iTT' -^^ «Pecting a
evenine he haH inf™^^ ^ "^y eyes, un the previous
I was^iTT iJ ^^ themselves were so lustrous.
i^ about to be frightened when a man arose and
restiessly moved toward vie chimneyDiecTnot^^
^was anything the™ he desired SSut tS^^
couldn t contmue to sit still. He was a siritw «
taU. spare. U^^boned and powerful-^^Th^f^LSS^
177
THE HIGH HEART
type whidj for want of a better word I can only «-«k of
amher hungry set of human quaHties and pS^^^*^
w Jjk!!?. T *''° "^^'^^ I^n'' i«ste^ of ^e and I
was^t to Wthe,xx»„whenapagecamein
o^. sir, said the honest-faced little hov ^jfi.
m^^Zv' '^-'-^'y*^ -'t in. so I guess £
Startled, I rose to my feet.
"But I'm number four-twenty-thice "
lie boy turned toward me nonchalantly
you." * ^"^ ^ ''^ ^*^' That gentleman wants
With this int«xluction he dashed away, and I was once
Zl^°^ of the luminous eyes ben^'up^,^*" n"
g^veandhar^andln^SIallaTSc:"" ^ "^ ^^
That s my name."
"Mine's Grainger."
m«r?oS™*''' ""' ' '"^ ^' ^- I -^^ ^-
"Won't you sit down?"
th,^v^ ^*^ ^^°^^ near me and in a good light I saw
^lus skin was t^ed, as if he lived on^^s^^'o^^i^:
Had^ust JT'SJf*^ '"^ '^ S^'-S-^y^ that
ne nad just come from a summer's yachting. His gaze
AM
THE HIGH HEART
'■You probably know my errand."
Mr. Strangwa}rs — "
"y^^' I told him to sound you."
,.5"* I'™ afraid I wouldn't do "
why do you think so?"
■'Because I don't know anything about the work "
have^oT^rSfoSTtin^^V'^* ^SVou'd
^^twoorth^J— T,.,^-----
mthe^t^o^e'''?j;;.7^^*°r Vou'd find that
It's small. Se's^^t 1T ^'* *'i" '^^ "^ *>>« P'^-
jtup. Miss'S:iriThryrS"^r°srT
« "b Jfw™ *"= °''^'-- °^ -'^^ ahnost took
;;0h, but I shouldn't be worth that."
It s the salary," he said, briefly, as he rose " v™
arrange with my secretarv <^tJZLr ^ ^°" '^
He turned.
teaathalfpast^o^" "^^ ^ ^«^ will bring you
179
Bi .ij'
THE HIGH HEART
I could hwidly beUeve my ears. I had never heard of
such sohctude.... "But I shouldn't need teal" I b^n to
assure him. "<«»u m
He paused for a moment, looking at me searchingly.
You 11 have callers—"
"Ohno.Isba'n't."
•■-'J?I!'" m? **"*"•" •** "^*«*' ■« ^ I '>«l°'t spoken,
and there'll be tea every day at four-thirty"
He was gone before I could protest further, or ask any
more questions. '
r.^'T'!'^^^^^'^- "*"* ^ ^^ t^" «>**»«• before him.
S^h^feU^iSri^ar *^"' *" ^"^^ "^^^ ""' ''-''
"But why?" I demanded.
mid'eSi"^"""*' ""*• "''"•*'^' ^^'^''^ •-
ldnH°^°°' ^ ^'*' ""^''- ^'- St^gways is not that
kmd of man Mr. Grainger has some other reason for
wantmg me there, but I can't think what it is"
^en I shouldn't go till I knew." Hugh counseled.
m2^*i^'^" ^''«>*t'^'««tweek. Larry Strangways
made the arrangements, and, after a fortnight under 1^
Davis s mstructions, I found myself alone
It was not so trying as I feared, though it was monoto-
nous. It was monotonous because there was so Uttle to do
I was thweeadi morning at half past nine. Fromoneto
Zll j^^^°'^'^- At six I came away. On
Saturdays I had the afternoon. It was a Uttle like being a
Pawner, but a prisoner in a palace, a prisoner who ia^
i8o
ll
THE HIGH HEART
of the bin^nrSrit'rr ' "J,"^ '"'- -d g«ens
Oriental rugs ^t^^iM? ^''"°'' "^^^^ °f th«
cupboards, ^e of t^ "''f "^ *''^^ "'"^ were
PonfoHos;.Ssri:SL^a^?},;t- «^ed with
-nte.i.JL^^LSr'*p;,rh^f rki°^- °" ''^^
-t'^^b-^r:;«e^- ^^-^^^ ^^--
student of S^e^-<2r^^^ ^ ~"«^i°": °nce a lady
inNew York would ent^a^dTtL^Xr/ ^^t'
amved. To while awav ti,» +;~ t ^^""y- and go as he
knitting and 7^i71tT^'}^^j---^---dm
« regularly as toe Sadfof 1^,^^ ^°" "^'^ '^^y-
solemnly had my tea ^„„ '^'^ ^^ ^°™d, I
bread idTutZt"the ortw7^°f*^^- -i*«^e and
by Mrs Dalv tJ,? *l^« Orthodox style, and was brought
^e stayed, a goTd:,",? Sstt^^Z'- !?'!!
n«ves and swollen " varikiss" vSs ^"^""=
I am bound to admit that the t po ~ ~_
«umt "wt tne tea ceremony oppressed
THE HIGH HEART
generowty teemed overdone. It wan not in the necessities
of the ewe; it was. above all, not Americaa^^^J*
cauitnedtoscrewupmycouraeetoaskhimfow^.. <r
thishoyitality. b..t lUdn-t rS^fpSTt ft-n^t
f^Tv dJft' °f Wm « I was overawS!^ He waT,^:!
Met. like Howard Brokenshire; but any one cxmld see that
Iw«T"*°1^'^.?^''*P'*^P'=^yP«<>««Pi^
berl^^r/^^fT°""«'''^^'**°«»>i«Nov«n.
t^lf ..""^ °^ *'•'' °^"8 °f *•>« °"t« door at.
f^hZ.'*.^**""- A*fi«t<«e<=a«eintoav,rb^e
from which there was no entrance, till on my side I tou<^
the spnng of a closed wrought-i«,n grille. I bS^Zne
forward to see who was there and, if ^eLanr.Tve^e
^W^ssion. wh«i to my astonisST'sfrM^
£S?n W "^ ^ ''"'' *° *^« "Id wind, but the
hght in her eyes was that of excitement.
in ' W r ^°" '"^ ^^•" ^ ''i^^P^. as she fluttered
m. and I ve come to see you " ""-icrea
co^d'' w/ *f ^P™J^'°'=" °^ *"^ "t^P '^^^ «««h that I
could hardUy welcome her. That feeling of protection
whidUhadonce before on her behalf carne'back^^^
Iw.!^ r*'^^'^'^^^"^*^ was seated and'
Iwaspoimngheroutacupoftea. For the tot timTsS
U^ portion I was glad the c««„ony had^ ^
Jhe answered, while glancing into the shadows about
"Mild«d told me. Hugh wrote it to her. He does
X03
THE HIGH HEART
I could do" '"^**-*°«»'fth«e was anything
«J expect that his name would be a IfPw t« ««„ • ""i
any bank at wt,;,-), j,^ -T. ^ *° °P*" '^''^ door of
And how IS he off for money?"
3 at TJ ^ °^ •"' '='"'«• ^d that he took his
meals at the more mexpensive places. In taxis ^ hf
was careful, and in tickets for the thSer t1^ \^
signs by which I judged ^'^^^^- These were the
'3
183
!'■ .. «
THE HIGH HEART
jt,',',°"* it would be Mr. Brokenshire's moaey, wouldn't
" It would be money Mr. Brokenshire gives me "
"In that case I don't think Hugh oould accept'it. You
see. he s trying to make himself independent of his father
so as to do what his father doesn't like."
"But he can't starve."
"He must either starve, or earn a Hving, or go back to
nis father and — give up. "
"Does that mean that you won't many him unless he
har money of his own ?"
" It means what I've said more than once before— that I
can t marry him if he has no money of his own. unless his
lamily come and ask me to do it."
There was a little furrow between her brows
; Oh, well, they won't do that. I would." die hastened
to add. because-" she smiled, like an angel-" because I
believe m love; but they wouldn't."
left L*e '^ ^^' ^°^^ '"°^^" ^ ^^ed, "if she was
"She might; and. of course, there's Mildred. She'd do
anything for Hugh, though she thinks ... but neither
Jack nor Paulme would give in; and as for Mr. Broken-
shire— I believe it would break his heart."
"Why should he feel toward me like that?" I demanded
bitterly. How am I inferior to Pauline Gray, except that
I have no money?" ^
"Well I suppose in a way that's it. It's what Mr
Brokenshu^ calls the soUdarity of aristocracies. They
have to hold together." ^
"But aristocracy and money aren't one."
^ As she rose she smiled again, distantly and dreamily
It you were an American, dear Miss Adare, you'd know "
X84
THE HIGH HEART
thfS!! *^T.'^*^ ^°°^'^^ "-^ ^°°^ deliberately about
the room. It was not the hasty inspection I should have
expected ; ,t was tranquil, and I could even say that it was
thorough She made no mention of Mr. Gi^iger, buU
couldn't help thinkiBg he was in her mind.
At the door to which I accompanied her, however her
manner changed. Befot. trusting herself to the f^p'a^
of walK rumung from the entrance to the wrought-iron
gatesheglancedupanddownthestreet. ItwasSby
this tune, and the lamps were lit, but not till the pavement
w.-« tolerably clear did she venture out. Even 11^™
h« natural direction; but rapidly and, as I imaginS^
furtively, she walked the other way. ""aginea,
I mentioned to no one that she had come to see me. Her
tand thought of Hugh I was sorry to keep to myself; but I
k^ofnopurpos^tobeservedindivulgingit. WUhmy
nm to guide me it was not difficult to be sure that in
this case right lay in silence.
of tilT '^'^T^''' ^ ^°* ^"^'^'^ <^°'°e^ ^^ ^ ^^ point
of view. As I was gomg back to my lunch at the hotel,
M«_ Renter eaUed to me from her motor and made me
set m The distance I had to cover being sUght, she drove
meup to Central Park and back again to have tiie timT to
n^^lu^T^' •"*.'' "^- H^'^ eoing round to all the
offices that practically turned him out si:t or eight weeks
ago and beggmg them to find a place for him. Two or
three of papa's old friends have written to ask what they
uZ7l:t!:^' *^ ^* - ^ ^-- « they'd show
"Of course, if his father makes himself his enemy-"
i8s ^
THE HIGH HEART
"He only makes himself his enemy in order to be his
fnend. dear Miss Adare. He's your friend, too.^^ fa
a you only saw it." ^^^ '
''I'm afraid I don't," I said, dryly.
"Oh, you will some day, and do him justice. He's the
k,nd«t man when you let him have his olnw*y."
^ Which would be to separate Hugh and me."
h« Jr Tv ^u^ ^ °''^ *'^*: ^"-^ I '"'^ he'd do the
handsome thing by you, as weU as by him "
;;So long as we do the handsome thing by each other-"
.«w'^°".'^'^''''^*l^* leads to. Hugh '11
°^^'*'."^P°^*'°°*° '"any you. dear Miss Adaie.''
^ He will when your father comes round "
forwa^TT.'"'' '^'^- ^°" ^°'' y°^'^ not looking
forward to that, not any more than I am" ^^
wiTaf^^^rgh^"'"^ ""* ^* "^^ '^'^' ^ -^''' - ^ '*
Laliy CiSet S^ """'^ ^^^ has made me write to
I looked up at her from the pavement
"What for?"
nJ7v^ ^V° °™^ ""^ ^"^ ^°d a month or two in
New York She says she will if she can. She's a go<S
onl^ih-r^'w^tr "^.'-^-^tokeepyo^S
onuugh- WelLalllcansayisthatCissiewillgiveyoua
run for your money. Of course, it's nothing to me I
only thought I'd teU you." "™g k> me. x
This too. I kept from Hugh; but I seized an early op-
^ty to pamt the portrait of the imaginaiy cha^
prl he could have for a wife, with plenty of monTtf
^pport himself and her. if he would ojy i^Hf uj
T^JTZT"^"^ ^"^^ °"* "^^'^^ *"« *he theate^
I was obhged from fame to time to let him take me so
i86
THE HIGH HEART
*^«!f ■°^!'** ^"""^ * P****** ^"^ •^"8 together-^d we
stroUed in the shadows of the narrow cross-streets
"LitUe Alix," he dedared. ferventiy, "I could no more
pve you up than I could give up my breath or my blood
You re part of me. You're the most vital part of me If
you were to fail me I should die. If I were to fail you—
But thats not worth thinking of. Look here'" He
paus^ m a dark spot beside a great silent warehouse.
U>ok here I m having a pretty tough time. Til con-
less it. I didn't mean to tell you, but I wiU. When I go
to see certain people now-men I've met dozens of times
at my father's table-what do you think happens? Thev
have me shown to the door, and not too politely. These
are the chaps who two months ago were squinning for joy
at the thought of getting me. What do you think of that ?
How do you suppose it makes me feel ?" I was about to
bre^ m with some indignant response when he continued
plaadly : ' Well, it aU turns to music the minute I think of
you. It's as if I'd drunk some glowing cordial. I'm
tacked out, let us say-and it's not too much to say-and
I m ready to curse for all I'm worth, but I think of you
I remember I'm doing it for you and bearing it for you so
that one day I may strike the right thing and we may be
togetha: and happy forever afterward, and I swear to you
It s as if angels were singing in the sky."
I had to let him kiss me there in the shadow of the street
as If we were a footman and a housemaid. I had to let him'
tass away my tears and soothe me and console me. I told
him I wasn't worthy of such love, and that, if he would
consider the fitness of things, he would go away and leave
me, but he only kissed me the more.
Again I was having my tea. It had been a lifeless day
and I was wondering how long I could endure ttie lifeless^
187
II
THE HIGH HEART
ness. Not a soul had come near the place ance morn-
ing, and my only approach to human intercourse had
been in discussing Mrs. Daly's "varikiss" veins. Even that
mterlude was over, for the lady would not return for the
tea things till after my departure. I was so lonely--!
felt the uselessness of what I was doing so acutely— that
in spite of the easy work and generous pay I was thinking
of sending my resignation in to Mr. Grainger and looking
for something else.
The outer door opened swiftly and silently, and I knew
some one was inside. I knew, too, before rising from my
place, that it was Mrs. Brokenshire. Subconsciously I had
been expecting her, though I couldn't have said why. Her
lovely face was all asparkle.
"I've come to see you again," she whispered, as I let
her in. "I hope you're alone."
^ I replied that I was and, choosing my words carefully,
I said it was kind of her to keep me in mind.
"Oh yes, I keep you in mind, and I keep Eagh. What
I've reaUy come for is to b^ you to hand him the
money of which I spoke the other day."
She seated herself, but not before glancing about the
rocrm, either expectantly or fearfally. As I poured out
her .ja I repeated what I had said aheady-on the subject
of the money. She wasn't Ustening, however. When she
made repUes they were not to the point. All the while
she sipped her tea and nibbled her cake her eyes had the
shifting alertness of a watchful little bird's.
"Oh, but what does it all matter when it's a question of
love?" she said, somewhat at a venture. "Love is the
only thing, don't you think? It must make its oppotw
tumties as it can."
"You mean that love can be — unncrupuknis?"
i88
THE HIGH HEART
"Oh, I shouldn't uae that word "
"w'*!*^'^?''"*''*"^''^- If s the act"
••^islt?"'"'""'''*^ AU-sfairr
^ey« rested on naae. not Wdly. but with a certain
"yfhy-yvs."
"Yon believe that?"
^e^kepthereyeeonnune. Her tone was that of a
^Why-yes." She added, perhaps defianUy. "Don't
I said, decidedly:
"No, I don't."
JTh^^don^^. You can't love. Wis«ck-
^tJ^2r, ^.^•^'^'''°°«Pa"sebeforeshedropped
tte two condtuling words, spacing them apart asTto
empWherdehberation. "Lov^sks4ll."
It It risks all it may lose all."
The challenge ^. us renewed.
"Well? Isn't that better than— ?"
"l.o^tSrma^:?r^ ^''" ' '-^^ to say,
"Ah but what is right? A thing can't be right if-
tf- shesoughtf raword-<'ifit'skillingyou"
leaSLf W^'tfi,*^'™ r ^ ^'^ ^°°S the corridor
teadmg from the house. I thought Mr^. Daly had for-
^^^g and was coming back. But'the t^
M« n 1^ ^"^ ^ *^" 2°°^ ""^^ ««^^ inspi«d
Mrs. Brofcenshire made no attempt to play a parTor to
put me off the scent. She acted as if I Ld^S ^t
was happening. Her teacup «sting in her Up^e^t
189
THE HIGH HEART
with eyes aglow and lips slightiy apart in a look of heavenly
expectation. I could hardly believe her to be the dazed
stncken Uttle creature I had seen three months ago'
As the footsteps approached she munnured, "He's com-
wg!" or " Whc's coming?" I couldn't be sure which.
Mr Grainger entered like a man who is on his own
ground and knows what he is about to find. There was
no uncertainty in his manner and no apparent sense of
secrecy. His head was high and his walk firm as he
pushed his way amid tables and chairs to where we were
sitting in the glow of a shaded light.
I stood up as he approached, but I had time to appraise
my situation. I saw all its little mysteries illumined as by
a flash. I saw why Stacy Graing, - had kept track of
me; I saw why, in spite of my deficiencies, he had taken
me on as his librarian; but I saw, too, that the Lord had
dehvered J. Howard Brokenshire into my hands, as Sisera
mto those of Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite
CHAPTER Xin
1 11^^^^^.°^ ^°^ °^ '"y embarrassment by the fact
•» that Mr. Grainger took cammand.
Having bowed over Mrs. Brokenshire's hand with an
on^Ksement he made no attempt to conceal, he mur-
mured the words. 'Tm deUghted to see you again."
After this greeting, which might have been commonplace
and was not. he turned to me. "Perhaps Miss Adare will
give me some tea." uoio wm
I could carry out this request, listen to their scraps of
conversation, and think my own thoughts aU at the same
time.
Thinking my own thoughts was the least easy of the
three, for the reason that thought stunned me. The facts
faodced me on the head Since before my engagement as
Mr. aainger s hbranan this situation had been planned!
M^. Brokenshire had chosen me for my part in it! She
, ^rL^- ^5««g«- «>y address, which she could have
learned &om her mother, and recommended me as one
with whom they would be safe !
Their talk was only of superficial things; but it was not
! tl^"^,,^ T ««°t'°°«- That was in the way they
talM-h^ttngly. falteringly, with glances that met and
shifted and feU, or that rested on each other with long
mute looks, and then turned away hurriedly, as if somt
thing m the spirit reeled. As she gave him bits of infonna.
T91
THE HIGH HEART
same was tnipT^^^*""*"*^ thought. The
Notthatlbehevedittobeaguiltylove-flsv,^ -n, .
because he had a weakness- „„TV^' '^^^earted men
young, and might but I^ J"e^^* ?r ' ^
at aU-what was being done^^I^^^* not p«^ve
wasp^umably tooinexpe^eZi to'taial^r,?''^' '
e-nifIsuspectulwhat^nX°„Stw^°'^
bitt^itMts S'' £,"°T *f •" "''""^ *° ^ '•*«
too. .. a ^ST^f HS'B.rns;S:'^iT= ^S ^
approve of what I might see and ^^uJI^^^
THE HIGH HEART
wd«ned on not to speak of it. Once more I was
made to feel that, though I imght play a subordinate
Z^^oZ'T'''^- "^ '^ ^*« -^ p«-
It was obviously a minute at which to bring my maxim
mto operation. I had to do what was Riiht-^ ^
capital For that I must wait for inspiration, and present-
jy .1 got It.
™,S!S ^' ^ ^?u '* ^^ ^"^^^ ^ ^°* '' fi«t by noting in a
puzried way the glances which both my .ompanioii sent
m my drectmn. They were sidelong glances, singularly
ahke, whether they ^e from Stacy Grainger's melily
brown eyes or Mrs. Brokenshire's sweet, misty ones They
wwe tinud glances, pleading, uneasy. They asked what
WOTds wouldn't dare to ask, and what I was too dense to
underetand. I sat sipping my tea, mnning hot and cold as
the odiCTisness of my position struck me from the various
pomtsofview; but I made no attempt to move
They were still talking of people of whom I knew noth-
mg but taUong brokenly, futilely, for the sake of hearing
each oUiers voice, and yet stifling the things wwTit
would have been fatal to them both to say, when Mr
Urainger got up and brought me his cup.
"May I have another?"
I looked up to take the cup, but he held it in his hands.
He held It m his hands and gazed down at me. He eared
down at me with an expressioi such as I have never seen
m any ^ but a dog's. As I write I blush to remember
that, with such a minghng of hints and entreaties and com-
mands. I didn't know what he was trying to convey to me.
I took the cup. poured out his tea, handed the cup back to
him— and sat. ^^
But after he had reached his seat the truth flashed on
193
THE HIGH HEART
I
nw. I was in the way; I was* fro^. I had done nan nf
my work in being the p«text for M«. Brol^Z-rSi?-
n^i^^/'f^'"'*^^'^"*'"^"- Ineedn"go£;
H^ ^u ' '°"«- ^"^ ^ ^ '^<^ « the end of
he room where one could be out of sight; theT^l"
'.he comdor leading to the house. IcLdea^^et^
I hated myself; I despised myself ; but I sat IdranV
.^.^natfltt^°^"-'= ^^^ mycal.e:^L\*S
Sil™,t ^"^ '^- T T^ «»"P»»io«s grew more fitful.
SJenoe was ea«er for them-silence and that dumb inte^
a thing to be got rid of. I was so in my ow^^U^t
on eatmg and drinking stolidly-a„d sat
It was in my mind that fhis was my chance tr, Jv.
avenged on Howard Brokenshire; but I didnT^f „^
veng^nce that way. I have to coWess thatl wL ™!
spmted as to have little or no animosity agai^ ^^
could see how easy it was for him to tU TmT^ an
adventures. I wanted to convince and convert hL but
not to n^e hmi suffer. If in any sense I cotJ^ te^ed
the guardian of his interests I would rather have 1^^2
I nytea as li I reUshed it, it was partly because of my pro-
tective instmct toward the exquisite creature beta^^^
^o might not know how to protect hersd^d^w
because I couldn't help it. Mr. Grainger co^^d^
I^K "u,""'*^ ^^ ^^ I «^t t° go on eating.
Brokenshiie felt obliged to begin to talk aJalTT^d my
194 '
THE HIGH HEART
best not to listen, but fragment* of her sentences came to
nw.
"My mother spent a few weeks with us in August. I— I
don't think she and— and Mr. Brokenshire get on so well.'
Almost for the first time he was interested in what she
■aid rather than in her.
"What's the trouble?"
"Oh, I don't know^the whole thing." A long pause
ensued, during which their eyes rested on each other in
mute questioning. "She's changed, mamma is."
"Changed in what way?"
"Oh, I don't know. I — I suppose she sees that she —
she — miscalculated."
It was his ttun to ruminate silently, and when he spoke
at last it was as it throwing up to the surface but one of a
deep undercurrent of thoughts.
"After the pounding I got three years ago she didn't
believe I'd come back."
She accepted this without comment. Before speaking
again she sent me another of her frightened, pleading
looks.
" She always liked you better than any one else."
He seconded the glance in my direction as he said, with
a grim smile:
"Which didn't prevent her going to the highest bidder."
She colored and sighed.
"You wouldn't be so hard on her if you knew what al
Sght she had to make during papa's lifetime. We were
Jways in debt. Yi a knew that, didn't you ? Poor mam-
ma used to say she'd save me from that if she never — "
I lost the rest of the sentence by deliberately rattling the
tea things in pouring myself a third or a fourth cup of tea.
Nothing but disconnected words reached me after tiiat,
195
THE HIGH HEART
butrowj am nmm ot M-iJt— ■ -- 1
■he was, hkviiw hMnl hw ■ZTT-t^^^T' ■** '*»
2^'' *• l-d ipent thw. day, at . «LMr«S;
Swwrty^th Street to that <rf M<- p~u. T/T^
"™«0M were bemg mterehaajed I oooM ■«•• t^
J««tl««o«tfdeaoe.«rt.i„t«rt^.,2Lteke2f
tiM. w« Wag drawn ritently I oidd ffi^ /!2S
«e without hiring; KKcfa'tneedtohear^rWltSS
Itoew that neither pointed the fflo«l of thTSSofS
*«>l»wnthatit8tan!dthemiathel«e. ^^""^^^
Because that subject, too. wu exhaarted. or be«d«
*^ had ««« to a place whew th^^o^fao^
^«t -lent again They looked at^^. "^
to««d at me; neither would talce the n«n«^-J^
»o^.IwM«uretheyww»botha&aidofit T™^.^^
«*;«* and yet I w« a «rfej^ w^S^^^
the brink of danger not to f^t ^T^
•««hing in having the«feg«a«l ttef^ • *^*' *"
wfri^ll*** "**" **"• B«*««hi«» flew to <h«ll«
1«^ behmd this protection. She ftatS*^^
I SAW A HAN AND A WOMAN CONSUUSU WITU
FO> EACH UtBIS
«;
THE HIGH HEART
my side, beginning again to talk of Hugh. Knowing t>y
ttis time that her interest in him was only a blind for her
fcigrtened essays in passion, I took up the subject but
half-heartedly.
"I've the money here," she confided to me, "if you'll
only take charge of it."
When I had declined to do this, for the reasons I had
already given, her face brightened.
"Then^ we can talk it over again." She rose as she
spoke. "I can't stay any longer now— but well talk it
over again. Let me see! This is Tuesday. If I came— "
"I'm always at the Hotel Maiy Chilton after six," I
said, significantly.
I smiled inwardly at the way in which she took this
mformation.
"Oh, 111 come before that— and I sha'n't keep you—
just to talk about Hugh-and see if he won „ take the
money— perhaps on— on Thursday."
As nominally she had come to see me, nominally it was
my place to accompany her to the door. In this at least I
got my cue, walking the few paces with her, while she held
my hand. I gathered that, the minutes of temptation
bemg past, she bore me some gratitude for having helped
her over them. At any rate, she pressed my fingers and
gave me wistful, teary smiles, till at last she was out in the
lighted street and I had dosed the door behind her.
It was only half past five, and I had stiU thirty minutes
to fill m. As I turned back into the room I found Mr.
Grainger walking aimlessly up and down, inspecting a bit
of lustrous f^-ence or the backs of a row of books, and
making me feel that there was something he wished to
say. His movements were exactly those of a man screwing
up his courage or trying to find words.
197
THE HIGH HEART
The simplest thing I could do was to sit down at my
desk and make a feint at writing. I seemed to be ignoring
my employer's presence, but in reality, as I watched him
from under my Hds, I was getting a better impression of
hmi than on any previous occasion.
There was nothing Olympian about him as there was
about Howard Brokenshire. He was too young to be
Olympian, being not more than thirty-eight. He struck
me, indeed, as just a big, sinewy man of the type which
fights and hunts and races and loves, and has dumb, un-
comprehended longings which none of these pursuits can
satisfy. In this he was EngUsh more than American
and Scottish more than English. He was certainly not
the American business man as seen in hotel lobbies and on
the stage. He might have been classed as the American
romantic— an explorer, a missionary, or a shooter of big
game, according to taste and income. Larry Strangways
said that among Americans you most frequently met his
hke in East Africa, Manchuria, or Braza. That he was in
business in New York was an accident of tradition and
inheritance. Just as an Englishman who might have been
a soldier or a solicitor is a country gentleman because his
father has left him landed estates, so Stacy Grainger had
become a financier.
As a financier, I understood he helped to furnish the
money m undertakings in which other men did the work.
In this respect the direction his interests took was what
might have been expected of so virile a character— steel
iron, gunpowder, shells, the founding of cannon, the build-
ing of war-ships ; the forceful, the destructive. I gathered
from Mr. Strangways that he was forever making journeys
to Washington, to Pittsburg, to Cape Breton, wherever
money couM be invested in mighty conquering things. It
198
THE HIGH HEART
was these projects that Howard Brokenshire had attacked
so savagely as almost to bring him to ruin, though he had
now re-established himself as strongly as before.
Being as terrified of him as of his rival, I prayed inward-
ly that he would go away. Once or twice in marching up
and down he paused before my desk, and the pen almost
dropped from my hand. I knew he was jying to formu-
late a hint that whf Mrs. Brokenshire came again—
But even on my part the thought would not go into words.
Words made it gross, and it was what he must have dis-
covered each time he approached me. Each time he
approached me I fancied that his poetic eye grew apolo-
getic, that his shoulders sagged, and that his hard, strong
mouth became weak before syllables that would not pass
the lips. Then he would veer away, searching doubtless
some easier phrase, some more delicate suggestion, only
to fail again.
It was a relief when, after a last attempt, he passed into
the corridor leading to the house. I coidd breathe, I
could think; I could look back over the last half-hour ^d
examine my conduct. I was not satisfied with it, because
I had frustrated love— even that kind of love; and yet I
asked myself how I could have acted differently.
In substance I asked the same of Larry Strangways
when he came to dine with me next day. Hugh being in
Philadelphia on one of his pathetic cruises after work, I
had invited Mr. Strangways by telephone, begging him to
come on the ground that, having got me into this trouble,
he must advise me as to getting out.
"I didn't get you into the trouble," he smiled across
the table. ' ' I only helped to get you the job. "
" But when you got me the job, as you call it — "
"I knew you would be able to do the work."
'4 199
THE HIGH HEART
"And did you think the work would be— this?"
I couldn't ten anything about that. I simply knew
you could do the work-from all the points of vieW/^
And do you think I've done it?"
.Z^ ^°^ .r*'r ^°^ '*■ ^°^ <^^'^ do anything
else. I won't go back of that." ^^
n my heart gave a sudden leap at these words it was
wr°l-*^%*?'- I* '^t'^y^d that quality behind^
tone to which I had been responding, and of which I hS
i^f^t^IT^'^^^^^^^'^- By a great effort
I kept my words on the casual, friendly pkne, as^d-
Your confidence is flattering, but it doesn't help me.
What I want to know is this: Assuming that they love
each other, should I allow myself to be uil .« the S
for their meetings ?" pretext
"Does it do you any hann?"
"Does it do them any good?"
" Couldn't you let that be their affair?"
"How can I, when I'm dragged into it?"
af^c^^ °°^^ ^^^^^ ^^° '' *° *^ ^*^* °f ^
^'_'Only! You can use that word of a situation— "
^^ In which you played propriety."
"Oh, it wasn't playing."
"Xf ' '* ^^; it was playing the game-as they only
play It who aren't quittere but real sports."
"But I'm not a sport. I've the quitter in me. I'm
even thmking of flinging up the position— "
" And leaving them to theii- fate. "
I smiled.
"Couldn't I let that be their affair?"
l^^Ii^ *^^' •"* head thrown back, his white teeth
THE HIGH HEART
"You think you've caught me, don't you? But you've
rrt the shoe on the wrong foot. I said just now that it
might be their affair as to whether or not it did them any
good to have you as the pretext of their meetings; but
it's surdy your affair when you say they sha'n't. Their
meetings will be one thing so long as they have you;
whereas without you — "
"Then you think they'll keep meeting in any case?"
"I've nothing to say about that. I limit myself to be-
lieving that in any situation that requires skilful >ian^i;THT
your first name is resourcefulness."
I shifted my ground.
"Oh, but when it's such an odious situation!"
"No situation is odious in which you're a participant,
just as no view is ugly where there's a garden full of
flowers."
He went on with his dinner as complacently as if he had
not thrown me into a state of violent inward confusion.
All I could do was to summon Hugh's image from the
shades of memory into which it had withdrawn, and beg
it to koep me true to him. The thought of being false to
the nun to whom I had actually owned my love outraged
in me every sentiment akin to single-heartedness. In a
kind of desperation I dragged Hugh's name into the con-
versation, and yet in doing so I merely laid myself open
to another shock.
"You can't be in love with him!"
The words were the same as Mrs. Billing's; the emphasis
was similar.
"I am," I declared, blundy, not so much to contradict
the speaker as to fortify mysdf .
" You may think you are — "
"Well, if I think I am, isn't it the same thing i
30I
THE HIGH HEART
"Lord, no! not with love! Love is the most dfioeptiw
of the emotions- to people who haven't had much eroert-
ence of its tricks." '^
"Have you?"
He met this frankly.
"No; noryou. That's why you can so easily take your-
self m." •'
I grew cold and dignified.
_ " If you think I'm taking myself in when I say that I'm
m love with Hugh Brokenshire— "
"That's certainly it."
Though I knew my cheeks were flaming a dahlia red I
forced myself to look him in the eyes.
"Then I'm afraid it would be useless to try to convince
you — "
He nodded.
"Quite!"
"So that we can only let the subject drop."
He looked at me with mock gravity.
"^ I don't see that. It's an interesting topic."
I' Possibly; but as it doesn't lead us any furthe:^"
^'*But it does. It leads us to where we see straighter."
I' Yes, but if I don't need to see straighter than I do?"
''We all need to see as straight as we can."
" I'm seeing as straight as I can when I say— "
"Oh, but not as straight as I can! I can see that a
noble character doesn't always distinguish clearly between
love and kindness, or between kindness and loyalty or
between loyalty and self-sacrifice, and that the higher the
heart, the more likely it is to impose on itself. No one is
so easily deceived as to love and loving as the man or the
woman who's truly generous."
" If I was truly generous—"
203
THE HIGH HEART
"I know what you are," he said, shortly.
"Then if you know what I am you must know, too,
that I couldn't do other than care for a man who's given
up so much for my sake. ' '
" You ocjldn't do other than admire him. You couldn't
do other than be grateful to him. You probably couldn't
do other than want to stand by him through thick and
thin— "
"Well, then?"
" But that's not love."
" If it isn't love it's so near to it — "
"Exactly — ^which is what I'm sasring. It's so near it
that you don't know the difference, and won't know
the difference till — till the real thing aSords you the
contrast."
I did my best to be scornful.
'Really! You speak like an expert."
"Yes; an expert by intuition."
I was still scornful.
"Only that?"
"Only that. You see," he smiled, "the expert by ex-
perience has learnt a little; but the expert by intuition
knows it all."
"Then, when I need information on the subject, I'll
come to you."
"And I'll promise to give it to you frankly."
"Thanks," I said, sweetly. "But you'll wait till l\
come, won't you? And in the mean time, you'll not say
any more about it."
" Does that mean that I'm not to say any more about it
ever — or only for to-night?"
I knew, suddenly, what the question meant to me. I
took time to see that I was shutting a door which my
20J
THE HIGH HEART. •
heart cried out to have left open, n..* t ■ .■.
«wetly and with a smile: "« ^ •awwd. Itfll
"Suppose we make it that vmt »»>» „
about it-^ever?" " "»* y«« wot M7 aajr man
I won't aay any more about il-&r totJ^tt,"
CHAPTER XIV
QN Thunday Mr. Grainger came to the ubrary to
^ S^ "ot;^thstanding her suggestion M,^. BrSL-
stoedjdnot. She came, however, on Friday when he did
not. For some tame after that he came daily
Toward me his manner had litUe variation- he was
^-t^onddist^t. I cannot say that he :^h^^
t^ °*' ^'*«^,^*<«pted a cup. which he did fi^
detent comer of tie loom where he was either examimng
tteofcaectsormaJangtheiracquaintance. Hec^^^f
half pact four and went about half past five, always^
^g.r«m the house and retiring by the sa^^:::;" t
^e house Itself, as I understood from Mrs. Daly, he di^
played an mterest he had not shown for years. ^' °^
JJli^T"^ '^ T'.T' ^^ ^*° *"°*^'*' «°d raisin- the
shades and pushm' the fumituns about. tiU you'd sw«r
hewasgoin'tobemamed." youa swear
jyr^^} °^ ^^- Py"«' '^aering if, before his trip to
about his house, appraismg its possibiUties from the point
of view of a new mistress. "«l»mt
On the Friday when Mis. Biotenshire came and Mr
&^ did not she made no comment on ^Zi
fiction that her viat was on my account Only her s^
aos
THE HIGH HEART
eyes turned with a quick Ught toward the door leading to
the house at every wund that might have been a footstep
men she talked it was chiefly about Mr. Brokenshire.
It s teUmg on him— aU this trouble about Hugh."
I was curious.
"Telling on him in what way?"
'•Ifs made him older-and grayer- -and the trouble >
with lus eye comes oftener."
It seemed to me that I saw an opportunity.
Then why doesn't he give in ? "
• 'i^^'u- Mr. Brokenshire? Why, he never gave in
m his life.
"But if he suffers?"
"He'd rather suffer than give in. He's not an unkind
^.•t^^Il^r "^' " "* •- '^^ °- ™y= but once
"Every one has to be tnwarted some time."
"He'd agree to that; but he'd say every one but him.
:niat s why. when he first met-met me-and my mother
at that time meant to have m^to have me many some
one else— You knew that, didn't you ?"
I reminded her that she had told me so among the rocks
at Newport.
T u ^f ^'u ^"^^^^ ^ ^'^- ^*'^''* ^*«- °n ^y n^nd.
I had to change so-so suddenly. But what I was goinfr
to say was that when Mr. Brokenshire saw that man-^a
meant me to marry some one else, and that I— that I'
wanted to, there was nothing he didn't do. It was in the
?«f?7^"'^ ^^erything. But nothing would stop him
till he d got what he wanted. ' '
I pumped up my courage to say :
"You mean, till you gave it to him."
She bit her lip.
2o6
THE HIGH HEART
"Mamma gave it to him. I had to do as I was told
You'd say, I suppose, that I needn't have done it, but you
don't know." She hesitated before going on. "It— it
was money. We— we had to have it. Mamma thought
that Mr.- the man I was to have married first— would
never have any more. It was all sorts of things on the
Stock Exchang&-and bulls and bears and things like that.
There was a whole week of it— and every one knew it was
about me. I nearly died; but mamma didn't mind. She
enjoyed it. It's the sort of thing she would enjoy. She
made me go with her to the opera every night. Some ens
always asked us to sit in their box. She put me in the
front where the audience watched me through their opera-
glasses more than they did the stage— and I was a kind of
spectacle. There was one night— they were singing the
Meistersinger'— when I felt just like Eva, put up as a priM
for whoever could win me. But I was talking of Mr
Brokenshire, wasn't I? Do you think his eye will ever be
any better?"
She asked the question without change of tone. I could
only reply that I didn't know.
"The doctor says— that is, he's told me— that in a way
It's mental. It's the result of the strain he's put upon his
nerves by overwork and awful tempers. Of course, his
responsibiUties have been heavy, though of late years he's
been able to shift some of them to other people's shoulders.
And then," she went on, in her sweet, even voice, "what
happened about me— coming to him so late in life— and—
and tearing him to pieces more violently than if he'd been
a younger man— young men get over things— that made it
worse. Don't you see it would?"
I said I could understand that that might be the effect.
" Of course, if I could reaUy? - a v/if e to him— "
207
THE HIGH HEART
"Wdl.aui'tyour
She shuddered.
"He terrifies me. When he't there I'm not a woman
«ny more; I'm a captive." »• woman
"But since you've married him—"
"I didn't marry him; hemarriedme. Iwaaasmucha
bj^n a. if I had been bought. And now m^^^
that-that she might have got a better price."
I thought it enough to say:
"That must make it hard for her "
^gh bubbled up, like that of"a child who has been
"It make, it hard for me." She eyed me with a lone
oUique regard. "Don't you think it's awful wheT^'
ioJe"2tnr'''nr*'*^°-«^-^«^«"
love with some one else?"
I could only dodge that question.
"All unhappiness is awful."
"Ah butthisi An elderly manMn love! Madlv in
^^s not natural; it'.frightfd; andwhea^f^S
ae moved away from me and began to iasnect tht
I^°J!^'".*^*' h«i been there before, makingX^d^
the book^elves much as Mr. Grainger himL?^ tht
habit^domg, and gazing withoutco^t on tTp^
and Italian potteries. It was easy to place her as o^
tho^ women who Uve surxtmded by LutifS ^ 2
^ch tiM^ pay no attention. Mr. Biokenshire^^y
Itehanate dwelling was to her just a house^w«5dW
b^n equaUy ust a house had it been Jacob«n S
Oui^ or m the fashion of the Broth4 Adam. andZ
would have seen Httle or no difi^ce in pci^^d
3o8
THE HIGH HEART
they were bwdtng. and titles. Since they W«««{T^
Stacy Grainger she could look at thaTJfiTLTr^^. ^
ey». thinking of i^VS^'T' Zl^u l' ""^"^
of my own I ^^^nZtj^^l^^^tZuTZ'
ia«t„nu„gs of her head whenever .he thluthtE'e^l:
«r NSknotTTir?- ^'^ «"l"i«t^»nd-and
''mB. i^ODoayknowsIcometo— toseeyou."
Her stammenng emboldened me to take a Uberty
But suppose they found out >"
.ir "" ^°^* « a child as she glanced up at me
SS7or'^::L^^""^"«^"'-«'^'''-'^-^p^
••?«Tfi^ .! ''*'°"*^"*^'«°'"Sontoadd:
_^ But I don t want to get into any trouble."
door ' °4rSd"3; t^' '"^"' "°^"« *°-«^ ^^
"OT. Wtot kmd of tiouble were you thinking of?"
a.iTt^-sT.r^rL^^.-"^''* ^ "-^ --^ '•-
Oh. I see! And does that mean." she went on, her
309
THE HIGH HEART
bosom heaving, "that you're a&aid of the cataract on your
own account— or on mine?"
I paused in our slow drifting toward the door. She
was a great lady in the land, and I was nobody. I had
much to risk, and I risked it.
"Should I offend you," I asked, deferentially, "if I said
— on yours?"
For :m instant she became as haughty as so sweet a
nature knew how to be, but the prompting passed.
_ No; you don't offend me," she said, after a brief pause.
We re friends, aren't we, in spite of—"
As she hesitated I filled in the phrase.
"In spite of the difference between us."
Because she was pursuing her own thoughts she aUowed
that to pass.
''People have gone over cataracts— and still Uved."
Ah, but there's more to existence than life," I ex-
clauned, promptly.
"There was a friend of my own," she continued, without
mmediate reference to my observation; "at least she was
a fnend-I .suppose she is still-her name was Madeline
Onmshaw — "
•'Yes, Mrs. Pyne; but she wasn't Mrs. Brokenshire."
No; she never was so unhappy." She prised her
handkerchief against the two great tears that roUed down
her cheeks. "She did love Mr. Grimshaw at one time
whereas I — " '
"But you say he's kind."
"Oh yes. It isn't that. He's mote than land. He'd
pother me with things I'd like to have. It's-it's when
he comes near me-when he touches me-and-and his
eye!"
I knew enough of physical repulsion to be able to change
THE.HIGH HEART
my Une of appeal. "But do you t.unt youM f,,.^n any-
thing if you made him unhappy— nc v ? '
She looked at me wonderingly.
"I shouldn't think you'd plead for him."
I had ventured so far that I could go a little farther
*'I don't think I'm pleading for him so much as for you "
Why do you plead for me? Do you think I should be
—sorry?"
"If you did what I imagine you're contemplating—
She surprised me by admitting my implication.
" Even if I did, I couldn't be sorrier than I am. "
■'Oh, but existence is more than joy and sorrow."
"You said just now that it was more than life. I sup-
pose you mean that it's love."
" I should say that it's more than love."
"Why, what can it be?"
I smiled apologetically.
"Mightn't it be— right?"
She studied me with an air of angelic sweetness.
"Oh no, I could never believe that."
And she went more resolutely toward the door.
Hugh returned in good spirits from Philadelphia He
had been well received His name had secured him much
the same welcome as that accorded him on his first excur-
sions into WaU Street. I didn't tell him I feared that the
results would be similar, for I saw that he was cheered
To verify the love I had acknowledged to him more than
once, I was eager to look at him again. I found a man thin-
ner and older and shabbier than the Hugh who first at-
tracted my attention by being kind to me. I could have
oorne with his being thinner and older; but that he should
be shabbier wrung my heart.
THE HIGH HEART
fi-t allows „3^1t p J^S^ SL"£ ! 'tf
bound n.e to ^^t^l' ^Zw^ l\^ ^ "^ V^^'
because I needed hin.; but not S"l iwtS^^
w^sm-elcould never b^kawayfx^nhL"^^"^^
forty-eigh hou-^p^Ssj^"^. Strangways had sat only
not changed the E^o^'be fac^ to'Z^'lV!:!:* ' """^
on exactly the same snnf 1 ■ ^ ^^ *^° "nen.
conditions «, S^e Tat °*^'°"' '° °^ ^"'^^ther, i^
Though I w^ntelLv ^ * .'"^ °^ faithlessness.
themSthTw^aSJof lL° ""'' ".*° "^ ''°«^ -^*
for thi.! T htZ , '^'"S so with neither: and vet
for LaiTv S^l^ u ^ Strangways. and I suffered
..?!' ""t'^i"^ "I'lch-the same old thing."
Seen anybody in particular?"
I weighed my answer carefully
THE HIGH HEART
.'.'^*" *<' you see that fellow?"
Right here."
bounder?" ' ^ " *=^™« out— "to that
He laughed nerrously.
"Oh, I don't go as far as that. And vet if TA-^ »
■It wotUdn't be too far " t ^J^^ " ^ °^^—
that I was tuZTtS^-auJ/^^^ ^ *" ^P'^'"-
Hugh,dear.Ido^4tvE^ T "^'^* ^^^ ^.
ways-" *^*°y'*^«^<« between Mr. Stiang-
"And me?"
IdoseeadiffS:S[^th?rs^trS°" ^^'^'^^^'^
more a man of the world tS-Sa^!?f ^^ "^ ^^ '^'«=t«
213
THE HIGH HEART
Perceiving my embarrassment, he broke in-
Than who?"
I took my courage in both hands
"Than Mr Rossiter, for ejtample, or your brother Mr
Jack Brokensh re, or any of the men T ^Zu ^^^' **'^-
Vour sister Tf T 1,,^ u ^®* ^^^'^ ^ ^^S with
ever joiew 1 shouldn t have supposed that any of them
t>e.onged to the real great world at all "
To my relief he took this good-naturedly
Tf'.hr*'" ^^^\'^^, ^ ^al inexperience, little Alix
Itsbecauseyoudon'tknowhowtodistinguish"
You don t know that sort of good thing-the American
STo°tT ^"^'^^^ -"'--• AndifyouleaTyX
got to take as a startmg-point the fact that, just Jtt^
^e thmgs one does and things one doesn't d;, so tWrS
people one knows and people one doesn't k:^ow-^d no
one can tell you the reason why." -"'ow-ana no
"But if one asked for a reason—"
"It would queer you with the right people. They don't
^nt a reason. If people do want a i^ason-weU leXe
got to stay out of it. It was one of the things lK
Jaynes pxcked up as if ,*e d been bom to it. Ihe kne^
iThrrwht^^^'^"^"-^^ andshecfttS
"But, Hugh, darUng, I don't know how."
He was all forbearance.
"You'll leara, sweet." ' As for the moment the waitress <
was absent, he put out his hand and locked bs Tng^
wxthn „„„e. 'You've got it in you. Once you'^ C
^''^ /""■« Wk Libby Jaynes into a cocki h^"
I shook my head. ^^
"I'm not sure that you're right."
314
THE HIGH HEART
"I know I'm right, if you do as I teU you: and to berin
of tit ^ '• ''^^"^ "^ "^y °^^^ things to think
ofthat any mere status of my own became of no i^
P^rtance I was willing that Hugh should marry me^
long as I could play my part in the rest of the drama ^t^
m^rffiS?^^- ""' ^* -- P-'-'3' '^^^^ that S
When Mrs. Brokenshire and Mr. Grainger next met
fo„=^ 1 f ^"^ ^t stammering, shame-
Sed Bv Jh! T"^'^ "°i. ^ '"°"^'' ^ ™Sht be out-
tT. nt /, ^ '™P'^ expedient of wandering away on
the plea of looking at this or that decorative obiectThev
ob^ned enough solitude to serve their purpost wS
So1Si^"^-^^-'^'^-^--o^ontheT:i
As far as that went I was relieved. I was not respon-
se for what they did, but only for what I did mysT I
v^ not their keeper; I didn't want to be a spy on them
men. at a certain minute, as they returned toward mH
saw hun pass a letter to her, it was entirely by chancT T
ZZ^n^^^'^- """^ ^'^ ^'^ "° "- m" Jng relik'
m wntang to hma, it was not so with him in wridng to he7
and that commumcations of importance might have to
pa^ between them. It w^ nothing to me. ^I wasl^nj
^ot^ve surpnsed the act and tried to dismiss it from i^
It was repeated, however, the next time they came and
many times after that. Their comings settled into a ^-
2TS
15
215
THE HIGH HEART .
tmerf being twice a week, with fair regularity Tuesda™
bon. It was mdeed this variati<m that saved theaW^
on a certain a£t«.oon when otherwise JTSSlT^TtL^
CHAPTER XV
"U/'^'^fd come to February. 19X4. During the inter
Strangways's sister, Mrs Apolegate C7 ^l' ^"^^
Rossiler was as friendly as fear of h^r fJZ ^ , ^^
««»ssheh.ds„.^^tS,„?"^°"^
THE HIGH HEART
1
wMe Hugh sta«d after him ^th tears of vexation in his
It was then that she gave me to understand that if it
^ not that Mildxed was lending him mo^y W^d
W nothmg to subsist on at all. Mildred had a h^e
fen her grandfather Brew, being privileged in this LZ
duldren born at the time of the grandfather's demise
The legacy had been a trifle, but from this fund. whiS
never been his father's. Hugh consented to take iZs
stJIrtVif?^^' .7 ^"^ *° ^^ the next time I had
Xkw w .^?'v ''°°* y^ "^ "°^ that he's iiW
enable? He'U either starve you into surrende,-"^^
_ Never, he cried, thumping the table with his hand.
^ Or else you must take such work as you can get."
Sudi work as I can get! Do you know how much that
would bring me in a week?" ""wmucntiiat
J!^'^''u°'"^ 'T°^^' "y°"'<^ have work and I should
nave work, and we'd live." s"uma
He was hurt.
"Ameri^ don't beUeve in working their women," he
dedared. loftily. "If I can't give you a hfe in which j^ou'U
have nothing at all to do— " "^j'wu
tod!''* 1 ^°°A ''Ti'' ^^ ^ ^^''^ I'l have nothing at aU
to do, Icned. ."Your idle women strike me as fweik
P«nt m your national organization. It's like the di^
^es I ve seen at some of your restaurants and hotels-^
You revohe too much in separate sDheres. Your w^S
have too httle to do with business and poUtics^d^-
THE HIGH HEART
men with sodety and the fine arts. Vw lot used to such a
gtUess separation of the sexes. Don't let us begin it
Hugh.darhng. Let me share what you share-"
vouTw'^^'^^ ^"^^^^^ '°" ''^' '''^■"' Alix, I can teU
thiakof but having a good time and looking your p™t-
joke^ ^°^^ ^^ °^ '*'" ^ ^"^^^^^^ *>"' this he took as a
That had passed in January. What Ethel Rossiter told
me the next trnie I lunched with her was that Lady Cecilia
Boscobel had accepted her invitation and was expected
with,„ a few weeks. She repeated what she had already
said of her, in exactly the same words.
and?nl?^°°f '?'^,°^^^'''' ^''^^''■" Myheartleaped
and lell ahnost simultaneously. If I could only give up
Hugh in such a way that he would have to give me up this
gjrl might help us out of our impasse. Had Mrs. Rossiter
stopped there I might have made some noble vow of renun-
r«t"v'' ^'^^ ^,\™"t °°= "K sh. wants Hugh she'U
take him. Don t be under any illusion about that "
Though my quick mettle was up, I said, docilely
fro™^^ ^'u "°'- .^''' " ^°^ •"^" *^"g him away
th^?^ ^ ^ "^^ ^^'^ ^''^ ^^^ '*• haven't
"Cissie Boscobel hasn't tried it."
But I was peaceably incUned.
"Oh, well," I said, "perhaps she won't. She may not
think it worth her while." ""ay not
J15 y°"J'^* *° ^°'^ ^y opinion," Mrs. Rossiter in-
^ted, as she helped herself to the peas which the rosebud
Thomas was passing, "I think she will. Men aren't so
plentiful over there as you seem to suppose-that is men
"1
THE HIGH HEART
of the kind they'd many. L«d Goldbor^ogh has no
money at aU. u you might say. and yet the girls have to be
set up in big establishments. You've only got to look
at them to see it. Cissie marrying a subaltern with a
thou«md pounds a year isn't thinkable. It wouldn't dress
her She s coming over here to take a look at Hugh, and
J she hkes him- WeU. I told yea long ago that y^^d be
wise to snap up that young Stmngways. He^ much
better-looking than Hugh, and more in your own- Be-
sides. Jmi ^ys that now that he's with "-she balked at
the name of Graingei— "now that he's where he is he's
beginning to make money. It doesn't take so long when
people have the brains for it."
AU this gave me a feeUng of mmgled curiosity and fear
when, a few w^ks later. I came on .Mrs. Rossiter and Lady
Ce^ Boscobel looking into a shop window in F^h
A^Jnue. It was a Saturday afternoon, the day which I
had oflE and on which I made my modest purchases It
was a cold, brisk day, with light snow whirHng in 'tiny
eddies on the ground. I was going northward on the
sunnyside At a distance of some fifty yards I recognized
Mrs. Rossiter s motor standing by the curb, and c^t my
f^ t^""* ^' * ^"^ «'^P^ °f ^^- Moving away
from the window of the jeweler's whence she had probably
come out, she saw me approach, and turned at on« with a
word or two to the lady beside her, who also looked in my
direction. I knew by intuition who Mrs. Rossiter's com-
P^on was, and that my connection with the family had
been explamed to her.
Mss. Rossiter made the presentation in her usual off-
hand way.
THE HIGH HEART
til^ *^<**"8«J «va. «mote, and noncommittal saluta-
bon«, each of us with her hands in her muff. My imme-
diate mipresswn was one of «>lor, as it is when you see old
Lunoges enamels. There was mon» color in I^y cSie's
personality than m that of any one I have ever looked at
Her hair was red-not auburn or copper, but red-^
decorative, flaming red. I have often noticed how slight
u. the difference bet«^n beautiful red hair and ugly
Lady Cissie's was of the shade that is generally ugly, Lt
which m her case was rendered glorious by the introduc
..on of some such pigment, gleaming and umber, as that
which gives the peculiar hue to Australian gold. I had
never seen such hair or hair in such quantities, except in
certain pictures of the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood for
whidi I should have supposed there could have been no
earthly model had my father not known Eleanor Siddall
Lady Cissie s eyes were gray, with a greenish light in them
when she turned her head. Her complexion could on^
be compared to the kind of carnation in which the whitest
ofwhites IS flecked in just the right spots by the «,siest
rose. In the hps. which were full and firm, also like
Eleanor Siddall's, the rose became cannine, to melt awS
into c^al-pink in the shell-like ears. Her dress of seal-
brown broaddoth, on which there was a sheen, was relieved
by occasional touches of sage-green, and the numerous
saWe tails on her boa and muff blew this way and that way
m the wind. In the small black hat. perched at what I
^ only descnbe as a triumphant angle, an orange wing
becanie at the tip of each tiny topmost feather a daring
Ime of scarlet. Nestling on the sag^green below the
throat a row of amber beads slumbered and smoldered
with lemon and orange and ruby Ughts that now and then
snot out rays of crimson or scarlet fire.
i
THE HIGH HEART
I thought of my own eortume— natunOly. I was in
gray, with inexpeniivB Uack fun. An iride«*nt buckle
with hues such as you see in a pigeon's neck, at the side of
my black-velvet toque was my only bit of color. I was
pow Jenny Wren in contrast to a splendid bird-of-paradise
So be It ! I could at least be a foil to this healthy, vigorous
young beauty who was two inches taUer than I, and might
have my share of the advantages which go with aU L-
ti thesis.
The talk was desultory, and in it the English girl took no
part. Mrs. Rossiter asked me where I was going, what I
was gomg for, and whether or not she couldn't take me to
my destination in her car. I declined this offrr, explained
that my errands were trivial, and examined Lady Cissie
through the comer of my eye. On her side Lady Cissie
examined me quite frankly-not haughtily, but distanUy
and rather sympatheticaUy. She had come aU this di^
tance to take a look at Hugh, and I was the girl he loved.
l^^ ^l ^! ^. *° ^^ ^^ J"""y Wren her value,
and I think it did. At any rate, when I had answered aU
Mrs. Rossiter s questions and was moving off to continue
my way up-town, Lady Cissie's rich lips quivered in a sort
01 farewell smile.
But Hugh showed little interest when I painted her por-
trait verbally. '^
"Yes, that's the girl," he observed, indifferenUy, "red-
headed, long-legged, slashy-colored, laid on a bit too
thick.
"She's beautiful, Hugh."
"Is she.' WeU, perhaps so. Wouldn't be my style-
but every one to his taste."
" If you saw her now — "
"Oh, I've seen her often enough, just as she's seen me."
333
THE HIGH HEART
yoii2^''w '' "f^ y°" « y°» «* to^y, and neither h.ye
you seen her. A few years makes a difference."
«e looked at me quizzically
tmnk Id turn you down now-for all the Lady Cissies in
the Bntish peerage? Do you. now?" ^^^ *-'»•««,
;; Not perhaps if you put it as turmng me down-"
Well, as you tummg me down, then?"
Our outlook is pretty dark, isn't it >"
'Just wait."
sentinr' ''' '''"''" '""'^"'^ '° ~"'-- -y own
,Jlf"'^-!'^'^ ^^^^ " ^ '"^a"t- You'd have a hand
you regret the day you e\'er saw me—"
"Or regret yourself the day you ever sawme."
my owT "' *"" '^''''' '* "^ """^ ^- ^- «ke than
"Then suppose I accept that way of putting it?"
wh t r^ ^* ""^ ^'"^y- fo^ ^ «=«'nd or two after
which he burst out laughing. That I might iJZh^^
more fh« ^"""17' °^^ ^^'^ t''^ B^rokensruT^
jealcusy of Larry Strangways, but his doubt could eo no
Cecja and they had renewed their early acquaint*^
"Fine big girl," Hugh commended, "but too showy "
223 '■
THE HIGH HEART
"She's not showy," I contradicted "A fh- • .
ne^ssarily showy because it h«bS coli ^ '^ J
bmlsarenotshowy.nor„>ses,norSel^!°"- ^"^'"^^
i prefer pearls," he said auietiv "v^ -
ficial fly thafsto tempt theSLyilei'tt^^*^-
nunnow. Once I've darted afterX wT^^^ ! ^"^
^ win have hookedTr TW- t °^ "^ *"'' 5^°''
think I see it ?m!^?!; ^^* ^ '''s game. Don't you
beans to rich Amends- bul f;;! 'L' "? ?^°^ ^
«. to me. for rra^ mu^'^rsSr""°"°^-
a!most." ooaalist as ever— ca-
di^rwtt/rdfoSfrt -°"''«^« -"oping and
What r could do for the^test included watching over
THE HIGH HEART
harto and I grew the more anxious. So far no one sus-
best of my knowledge her imprudence ended ther^.
F^er than to wander about the room the love« nev^
taed to elude me. though now and then I ^d If
without v^tdung them, that he took her h^T(^
«^ W I thought he kissed her, but of that I^
happ ly not sure. It was a leUef. too, that as the dZ
ttere. The old gentleman interested in prints and the
t^^iTn^^ '^^^"'^ *°°' ''^^ '^"*'«^ in. seeing far
the:r own pt:rposes a half-hour of privacy. After aU Z
^^ was atoost a pubhc one to those who knew howZ
Sblid vT ^ '^"^'^ "'°"«'' *° ^ *^* in this ^
pubUaty lay a measure of salvation
Mrs Biokenshire was as quick to perceive this as I
When there were other people there she was more a' Sse
Nothmg was smipler then than for Mr. Grainger ^dl^l
^to be visitors like the rest, strolling about^ sittfeglL
shady com«s, and keeping themselves unrecoSd^
T^ere was thus a Thursday in the early pmTE;
^y «n>e, however, only to find the old gentle,^^
t««ted m prmts and the lady who studied Shakespel^
a^yonthespot. I was never so glad of anytt^^
It was between half past five and six on the Friday. As
the lovers had come on the preceding day, I knew thw
wotdd not appear on this. and%^S«i to^l^
preparations for going home. I was actu^ P^^
aas
THE HIGH HEART
then th«. ca^^ ^^^^ j!«« 7« vestibule, and
srsS%sr-~H--
Mr.orMrs.Dyrhin'S ^^ "^ ^"^ *h«» -d
Knowing that there was nothing far it but to »^
who was there, and susnert,-n7!w ■ *°*^^"*^
Brokenslnre, af ^^ TSS */* "^^^^ ^ Mrs.
intervening paceT li l^^t'^^'J'^' ^^ *»■« ^^^
this little deco;ti!:''^„"^t^^^«-<^-aiesticin
which to gaze, a few s««^^c • t?!^ * ^^^ ^^""^ 'n
luaeshoTOllt. H,hT;J?'^/'"'"«'".W>«ti.
;» sxr sctrr "^ '^'^ --
fore. ™ "^ ®ver having met him be-
aa6
THE HIGH HEART
"You'd like to see the libranr. sir," I said as T rf,n„M
have said it to any chance visito! ' ^'*' <« ^ *°«ld
He dropped into a large William and Mary chair one
of theshowpieces and placed his silk hat on^eS "
His sti^ t'l !;!?'"™'^l««t°««thantohin>self.
asjfack he dandled now across and now between his
The tea things were still on the table
so2S' "" "^ * *"^ °' *^^" ^ «^ « 8--e
"Y^-no." I think he would have liked it but he
He breathed heavily, with short, puffy gasps I ~.
Sfh^ ? As a „,atter of fact, he put his gloved
Z^^ to ., as people do who feel somethingUg
To relieve the embarrassment of the situation I said-
I could turn on all the lights and you could see the
library without going round it." ■
Withdrawing the hand at his heart, he r^sed it in the
manner with which I was familiar
of bS^°2^' '=°™''^^' - ^y - his shortne.
The companion William and Mary chair being near I
dipped into it. Having him in thiLquarters pX' I
venfy Mrs. Brokenshu-e's statements that Hugh's affairs
were-tellmgonhim." He was pen^ptibly older^^^
way m which people look older aU at once after havS!
W kept the semblance of youth. The skin had ^^
baggy, the eyes tired; the beard and mustache, tho^^
a2j
THE HIGH HEART
wencaredforasever.morededdedlymixedwithgmv It
was md.«t.ve of something that had begun to dSLte
':^S:X^ Hght one on »e with no eff^
As It was for him to break the sflence I waited in m,
h,^ ornamental chair, hoping he wo^d b^T "^
What are you doing here '"
•"sSi^h2rcfS^^"i-p««'.-^y.
"Since not long after I left Mre. Rossiter."
-n^^^ tune to think another question out.
fa^Sr^' p *^-°^'' he had had no kno^vled^ the
fact, that Mis. Rossjter had employed forher boy Brokm
hfhS'Sntr 2r£^:fs° 'Z.=2'"
had foUowed. after which Mr^^ ^ ^J^X
had ne^ of a hbrarm, Mr. Strangways had sugg,^^^
"Had you no other recommendation?"
tdd^ ot"" ''*'''■ "^^^^ " '^°°^ *^' M'- G«inger ever
He let that pass.
"And what do you do here?"
what he wants. I thought it wdl to keep up the fiction
339
THE HIGH HEART
"K you'd care to go
that he had come as a sight-eeer.
over the place now, sir—"
steadily as I continued. 'TU ^i J ^^^,.«* "'^
me was so much that- rJj , turned on
B. kenshire comes to see me." **"•
"To see — ^you?"
"Yes, sir, to see me."
^jnje staccato accent grew difficult and thick. "What
"B^t^shecan'thelpit. She's sorry for me."
asSSd^""^"^P**°'«°— d-ytn^uWes
;' Why should she be Sony for you?"
.. ?f^^, *« «« that you're hard on me-"
Well, just then; but Afe. Bn>kenshi« doesn't know
THE HIGH HEART
Jy at Newport-^ter you'd spoke^tttd she 2.
ttat I was so crushed by it that aU I could do wJtol^
^ anaong the xocks and cry-^e watchS ^ ^^
"Who told her?"
"Very well! What then?"
"I was only going to say that when she heard I was hen,
-r'."^'"'""'*- Ibeggedhernot^" '•'^
Why? What were you aftaid of?"
I knew you wouldn't like it. But r m„Ur,'t t— i.
No one could stop her when it 00.?^,^^^ T^^^
fandn^^ She obeys her own nature beca^^s^^f
do anj^ng els. She's like a HtUe bird Zt^Zl
ti.r^^h:ssie'^i^erif^;- - --
•n her as buds are nipS a i^Z^i^'STr^,
2t2r£f=rrSdirri-^
Praise of the woman he adored would have been as
»30
THE HIGH HEART
mise, and so be otp^^?' .^* ** '^ ^ «>wld sur-
right words, did he »y . ^*^ "^ '^^*^'^ «*<> the
col^" "" ^ '^'^y^ «--« When M«. Brokenshi.
•Jay. for instance-^ doesa t seem to niind. Yester-
see.^-there was an old ^M^:. ^ ^ ^~^^ ">«
prints with Mr. GrS.Sf ^" ^i!f "« '''^ J^P^««
«»nes to study the oTdSr^aTt^^""^ ^^ '^'^^
Biokenshi,^ idn't objS to ^1 t^^^" °"' ^'^■
had a cup of tea " ^^^ ^' '^'* "ne and
tion: "Was there a^Slse^^f v^! "'''f 2?^ ''"^
^t of my maxim, toS £ 'bij^ f^'^"*'' '» '^«
knew how. But I didn-f^- , .. * ^ harmlessly as I
oned on his unSiUi^S^ t?^^' "^^ ^ '*• ^ ^-
or to humilirte ta^f^l^ "^ into his confidence
«>spect; but I was s^trT '"^.^'"'^ I <»uld easily
tongue 'rath^tl^ forc^is onT't' ''"^ *°™ °"' "^^
tocology. thatlwasaMeSr^"^^""^^--^^ -
gWortriiJ^^kSi^^I^^-.-dthroughthe
-as contorted^ce sS^^o e^' "t- "^^ '^ ^^
his misfortune. As heT^ th?.^^ °" •"' P^ *° '^de
j^ ^ ^® *°°^ *^e tune to think I could do
THE HIGH HEART
!^K?Tl,^**? a kind of intuition in Mowing the couiw,
ofhismeditataons. I was not suiprised, th«*fore ^
he 8ajd,vwth renewed thickness of utterance- '
d^^U^lu^"'^'^"^^ ^^-^y °*»>* native in
commg here than just— just to see you?"
I hung my head, perhaps with a touch of that play-
acung spmt which most women are able to comnLd.
when the tmie comes. "-uouu,
"Yes, sir."
He waited again. I never heard such overtones of
deq,a.r ^ were m the three words which at last he tried
to toss oflf easily.
"What is it?"
I still hung my head.
' She brings me money for poor Hugh "
f.iP ^^^^ ^ ''^^^^ fr"^ «°8«- °r «Kef I couldn't
^. and his face twitched for the fourth time. In the
«d I suppose, he decided that anger was the card he
could play most skilfully. ""u uo
"So that that;s what enables him to keep up his rebel-
hon agamst me!" *- f "» rewa
T 1^?' ^•".{'^^- ''""'biy, "becau.* he never takes it."
JZ T ""'\'^u P°^* °^ ^- Brokenshire which I
vowed^e would have to justify. "That doesn't make
any difference, however, to her wonderful tendem«^
of hear^ m wanting him to have it. You see. sir^^
^y one's so much like an angel as she is they don't s^
to consider how justly other people are suff4« or l3
they ve brought their tumbles on themselves Wh^
S't^.^ T""* ^ '° ''^- ^- Bn^kenshir*
enters her head: she only wants him not— not "-^y
'3'
THE HIGH HEART
OTOvdce shook a Uttle-"not to have to go without hi.
P«p«nieaU. He's domg that now. I think-twaetimes
at least Oh. s^. • I ventured to plead, "you^^^TK
her not when she's «^-«> heavenly." Stealing a glance
at ^. I was amazed and shocked, and not a Httle oom-
Siw *r *r ^ **«^ ^"^ his withered cheeks.
Knowing then that he would not for some minutes be able
to control himself sufficiently to speak, I humed on.
Hugh doesn t take the money, because he knows that
tks .s sometiung he must go through with on his own
r^f^ K h« <fn't do that he must give in. I think
Ive made that dear to him. I'm not the adventuress
you consider me-indeed I'm not. I've told him that if
he s ever mdependent I will marry him; but I shall not
mwry hmj so long as he isn't free to give himself away.
He s puttmg up a big fight, and he's doing it so bmvely.
that If you only knew what he's going through you'd be
proud of him as your son. "
Rating my case there, I waited for some response, but
I waited m vam. He reflected, and sat sUent, and crossed
and uncn^ his knees. At last he picked up his hat
&om the floor and rose. I, too, rose, waiting beside my
chau-, while he flicked the dust from the crown of his hat
and seemed to study its glossy surface as he still reflected
I was now altogether without a due to what was pass-
mm his mind, though I could guess at the age-long
togedy of December's love for May. Having seen Ibsen's
MMta Builder," at Munidi, and read one or two books
on the theme with whidi it deals, I could, in a measure
aipplem^t my own eicperience. It was, however, the firet
tone I had seen with my own eyes this desperate yearning
of age for youth, or this something that is ahnost a death-
blow w*ich youth can inflict on age. My father used to
»33
THE HIGH HEART
young as he L S ^twJ^v fl"^ T '^'^^ "
: instincts andXE- LT '^ .!^= '"' '^ ">« «««
« anything. iH^S l^iL"^ '^^ ^^
cause of the long.^^bS T^ ""P*"?"^/ be-
thirty yeare aeo he c^M h f , ^^- °*°^ ^"ch
see anguish on hi, li^^ u- . a* him I could
his foTea^-the irl^^ T' ''^ ">« ~"t^on of
to the object o?ft St 1 V""^ "'^"^'^ *° »"' '^^
that at siity-tm. the Sit^"^ "°T^- ^"^ *« «ason
was suppos^rbe^^^" had grown baggy and the heart
timbre of the voice ^'^^^ "^«^<» was again in the
"How much do you get here?"
^Iwas taken aback, but I named the anunmt of my
yeZ^frouToS":^"*'^'^- *»•-«* five
It toot «,» , • ""^ y°" oame &om."
tainUtiS htrr«? T ^.^ ^^«^«- —
was making Lim^,^- ^ ^^."-en that if I hoped I
Mrs. Bn>kenshSrchai"*^;„^'»y «*^fT'«t-tion °^
«^t-a.Lr:/r£fi^^^^^
»34
THE HIGH HEART
He continued to watch his gloved hand u it niade the
arde of the crown of his hat. ^ ««» me
"111 n>ake it twice what you're getting here for ten
y««. Ill put in It my will." It was no use being anerv
or mounting my high horse. The struggle with teS
kept rne sUent as he glanced up from the rubWng of his
hat ^d^said ma jerky, kindly tone: "WeU? TWuit do
I didn't know what to say; and what I did say was
^1 LT' "*" "^"^ ^' ^ -«'"- ^
"Do you remember, sir, that once when you were speak-
mg to me sevo^y, you said you were my friend? WeU.
why shouldn't I be your friend, too ?"
The look he bent down on me was that of a great
peraonage positively dazed by an inferior's audacity
^iT^^ ^ y°^ ^"''"''•" ^ stabled on, in an absurd
effort to explain myself. "I should like to be. There
are— there are things I could do for you "
He put on his taU hat with the air of a Charlemagne or
a Napoleon crowmng himself. This increase of at^ority
must have made me desperate. It is only thus that I
T TTl °^ ""^ ?a#^the French word alone expresses
>t— as I dashed on, wildly : ^^
hut t'^T;-^^"^"'* ^^^ '*• ^ ^°°'* ^'^ why,
but I do. I hke you m spite of-in spite of everything.
And, oh, I m so sorry for you—"
He moved away. There was noble, wounded offense
m his manner of passing through the wrought-iron grille,
which he closed with a Httle click behind him. He stuped
out of the place as softiy as he had stepped in
For long minutes I stood, holding to the side of the
WUham and Mary chair, regretting that the interview
335
THE HIGH HEART
twtaolonger any tendency to tea«. IwJlhoogS-
•^ng what .t wa. that dug the gulf betw««S«^
^JZ l^ T°?^'' "ow-aocepted n» « an equal.
*nd even to Hugh I was only another type of S
j^Lj 'T " ^n?'«-t « they, as weU^°^„ IJS
»a»««d as thoj^hly accustomed to the world ^
Jhould they coMider me «. inferior? Was it because I
I^JdnMTtd A?,T? • ** ""* ^^ '^y °^ themselves?
1 conldn t teU AU I knew was that my heart was hot
n» as a faend I wanted to act as his enemy. I could s«
coo^d encoury, and perhaps bring about, a situfticm^t
^ of wo continents and break his heart. 1 had only
to «t sUl-or at m<«t to put in a word here and there. I
am not a saint; I had my hour of temptation.
It ^ a stonny hour, though I never moved from the
Tch^y, ^*^- '^' ^*°™ ^ within C
Which, as the minutes went by became ra«. ;„
jn^ satisfaction Howam Bi^l^'n^J/^rd^
^te old age. and Mildred and Ethel and jlck and S
^m^ite of their bravado and their high h^^
as to gloat over poor Hugh's discomfitui^, taking ven-
«^ on h« habit of rating me with the s;^^^.,^
Petent. As for Mrs. Brokenshire. she would te ^^
«uch that even as Mrs. Stacy Gnunger she would nev«
336
THE HIGH HEART
CHAPTER XVI
LJAVING made up my mind to adhere, however im-
1 iperfecUy, to the prindtjle that had guided me
hitherto, I was obliged to examine my conscience as to
what I had said to Mr. Brokenshire. This I did in the
evenmg, coming to the conclusion that I had told him
nothing but the truth, even if it was not all the truth
Though I hated dupUdty. I couldn't see that I had a right
to tell him all the truth, or that to do so would be wise
If he could be kept, for everybody's sake, from knowing
more than he knew aheady. however much or Uttle that
was. It seemed to me that diplomatic action on my part
would be justified.
In the line of diplomatic action I had before all things
to inform Mrs. Brokenshire of the visit I had received
This was not so easy as it may seem. I could not trust
to a letter, through fear of its falling into other hands
than hers. Ndther could I wait for her coming on the
foUowmg Tuesday, since that was what I wanted to pre-
vent. There was no intermediary whom I could intrust
with a message, unless it was Larry Stiangways, who knew
something of the facts; but even with him the secret was
too much to share.
In the end I had recourse to the telephone, asking to
be allowed to speak to Mrs. Brokenshire. I was told that
she never answered the telephone herself, and was le-
238
THE HIGH HEART
<J"«sted to transmit my messape N„t t«
P^ I didn't ask tJ shrXld'^lTh^re W
•»d d.boj,t,, md the t.5»i, to, high fatatoB?
S':Stirrc.s.'r ,ii^"j"»^'" 0^^
,v_ • f , =t«;"i. witn ner, i had earned awav the im
TarZT':':'^ '^^'"''^ ^y ^ princely de^^'i^^
dart who had received carte blanche in the way of de^^
they Hved Fth^i p •. • *^^ '^^ ''Wch
^•1. . ^*""-' ""'cw a ±'erugino from a Fraponar/I a„A
softness of a Flemish fifteenth.H»ntury tapestry ^f
"39
THE HIGH HEART
smug and staring bit of GobeUns. Hugh went in and out
as indifferently as in a hotel, while Jack Brokenshire's
taste mart hardly reached beyond racing prints. Mildied
liked pretty garlanded things it la Marie Antoinette, which
the parental haWt of deciding everything would never
let her have. J. Howard alone made an effort at knowing
the value, artistic and otherwise, of his possessions, and
would sometimes, when strangers were present, point to
this or that object with the authority of a connoisseur,
which he was not.
It was a house for life in perpetual state, with no state
to maintain. Stafford House, Holland House, Bridge-
water House, to name but a few of the historic mansions
in London, were made spacious and splendid to meet a defi-
nite necessity. They belonged to days when the feudal
tradition still obtained and there were no comfortable
hotels. Great lords came to them with great famihes
and great suites of retainers. Accommodation being
the first of aU needs, there was a time when every comer
of these stately residences was Uved in. But now that
in England the great lord tends more and more to be only
a sunple democratic individual, and the wants of his rela-
tives are easQy met on a pubUc or co-operative principle,
the noble Palladian or Georgian dwelUng either becomes
a museum or a chib, or remains a white elephant on the
hands of some one who would gladly be rid of it. Princes
and princesses erf the blood royal rent numbered houses
m squaies and streets, next door to the Smiths and the
Joneses, in preference to the draughty grandeurs of St.
James's and Buckingham Palace, while a villa in the
subuits, with a few trees and a garden, is often the shelter
sought by the nobility.
But in proportion as civilization in England, to say
340
THE HIGH HEART
nothing of the rest of Eurone outs off the i i
oi an antiquated, disappearing statelin;ss^i^l,*^
just because they have the mon^, tSl^n Sshc^'
d« huge domestic responsibilife in w^ ^Zt^:
^ in cSo. Sef^^°X^.^SSjri-
^ often find themsdves lonely, and which "ef<^
rarely fill more than two or three times a year In ^
c«e of the Howard Brokenshires it hS LS'to L
;Jtenasthat. After Ethel was mam^r^n^Lii^
«Idom entrained, his second wife havir^ no^5^ ^
S^La'^S'^^- N— ^^--.inlecoSTof:
TZ'^ ^ ^ was given in the great dining-room
or the music-room was filled for a conrert- but th;=^"
SS S^^5 it °'^h^\^:i'^ ^*- ^-* -
weresik^^ : "'^^'^^ the down-staire rooms
were silent and empty, and whatever was life in the hoZ
wentonmacomerofthemansanl ""^tnenouse
TC^ther the footman took me in a lift. Herewereth.
^^^ sort of flat-which the occupants^TToS
natew^th then- personalities. They reminded me of tW
^ ^b«s at Verges to which what was hmln^
^ Mane Antoinette fled for refuge from her un^^
aWe gorgeousness as queen. uncomiort'
Not that these rooms were tiny. On the contniry the
hbmry or hvmg-room into which I was ushered^ «
to^as wodd be found in the average big^^f
no^thstandmg its tapestries and mas^ve ftj^ ^
te|ht^ «^e and flower.. Books lay^
and papers and magarines, and after the fawib^
a4l
the
THE HIGH HEART
deadness of the lowet floors one got at least
pivssion of life.
From the far end of the room Mrs. Brokenshire came
forward, threading her way between arm-chairs and
taborets, and looking more exquisite, and also more lost,
than ever. She ^rore what might be caUed a glorified
ttegltg4e, lilac and lavender shading into violet, the train
adding to her height. Pear had to some degree blotted
out her color and put trouble into the sweetness of het
eyes.
"Something has happened," she said at once, as she
took my hand.'
I spoke as directly as she did, though a Httle pantingly.
I' Yes; Mr. Brokenshire came to the library yesterday."
"Ah-h!" The exclamation was no more than a long
frightened breath. "Then that explains things. I saw
when he came home to dinner that he was unh^)py."
"Did he say anything?"
"No; nothing. H« was just— unhappy. Sit down
and tell me."
Staring wide-eyed at each other, we seated ourselves em
the edge of two huge ann-chairs. Having half expected
my companion to fling the gauntlet in her husband's
face, I was relieved to find in her chiefly the dread <rf
detection.
As exactly as I could I gave her an account of what
had passed between Mr. Brokenshire and myself, omitting
only those absurd suggestions of my own that had sent
him away in dudgeon. She Ustened with no more inter-
ruption than a question or two, after which she said,
simply:
"Then, I suppow, I can't go any more."
"On the contrary," I corrected, "you must come just
243
THE HIGH HEART
Mr. Brokenshi,. Z^tiS^ ««^8 aU <rf a sudden
"But he thinks that already "
Brokenshire. don't yoTJt^^^..^ ^- ^'-' Mrs.
°!^y ^'PPeal passed unheeded.
theSS?"^^^*? I thought that would be
oJ« i'^^i"^ JiSdt^l'^ ' '°* °^ things,
who came there^' ^^""^ ^^at some of the people
«ou aont mean detert— " ot,„ r
difficult to pronounce. ''Su don'^ °^f *•*" ''°«»
watching-mei"' ^°" ^on t mean de-detectives
^2^^'ZXZ^r- ^trven^iik^iMr.
yout;::^'- ««'^ ««»"-• I made sure of that before
we've speJ;ily got to wTl,r°^y'^y^- ^^t
told y^theffret '^If'Cdr^^*^^'-
^-usly-you-n^owyou're^o^r^S^^
She sighed plaintively
Jldon't want to do wrong unless I can't help it. If I
"Oh. but you can." I tried once more to get in my
THE HIGH HEART
point "Yott wouldn't be all I told Mr. Braksiichire
you were if your first instinct wasn't to do light."
"Oh, light!" She sighed again, tnit impatiently.
"You're always talking about that."
"One has to, don't you think, when it's so important —
and so easy to do wrong?"
She grew mildly argumentative.
"I don't see anything so terrible about wrong, when
other people do it and are none the worse."
" May not that be because you've never tried it on your
own account? It depends a little on the grain of Wbicfa
one's made. The finer the grain, the more harm wrong
can do to it — just as a fragile bit of Venetian glass is more
easily broken than an earthenware jug, and an infinitdy
greater loss."
But the simile was wasted. From long contemplation
of her hands she looked up to say in a curiously coaxing
tone:
" You live at the Hotel Mary Chilton, don't you?"
I caught her suggestion in a flash, and decided that I
could let it go no further.
"Yes, but you couldn't come there—sunless it was only
to see me."
"But what shall I do?"
It was a kind of cry. She twisted her ringed fingers,
vrtiile her eyes implored me to help her.
"Do nottiing," I said, gently, and yet with some sever-
ity. "If you do anything do just as I've said. That's
all we've got to know for the present."
"But I must see him. Now that I've got used to doing
it-"
"If you must see him, dear Mrs. Brokenshire, yoa.
will."
a44
THE HIGH HEART
"Sh«ni? Waiyoupixmiiaenje?"
Ah, but if It doesn't?" ^^'uiao—
"S.!!^^ <*» ^ can know that it oughtn't to be."
«mL^ iS^ i^^*^"" '* ought to be or not. so long as I
can go on seeing him— somewhere." '™gasi
Ihad enough sympathy with her to say
that would otherwise have come to us.? I reme^^
r^s^^here of a lady Who wrote of hei,^:rS
St^.^^ ^'^'""«' ^"^ '^''^ of it as a real cure.
Thatjtaui me as so sensible. Life-not to use a gi^
-^-Jows much better what's good for us than':^^
^^,*f*^r!*°^P*'^'^«'*e^t pensive.
subiS^pl^'"^' ^^^**^-*'^he^«sthe
I saw another opportunity.
yr^lr ^°"uf ^ '^•* *^ '^t I'^ «^d already?
^tedtohdpHugh. Hemightregietthatyoushoulddo
both, but he couldn't blame you for either. They're oX
M^tf^r ^L ^,°^*"^ ^han I put it.'-that's your
line tf Mr. Brokenshire ever speaks to you"
^d suppose he tells me not to go to see you any
"Then yon must stop. That win be the time. But
'*S
THE HIGH HEART
not now when the mere stopping would be a kind of oooi
fesdon — "
And »o, after numy repetitions and some tears on both
our parts, the lesson was urged home. She was less docile,
however, when in the spirit of our new compact she came
on the following Monday morning.
"I must see hiri," was the burden of wbai she had to
say. She spoke as if I was forbidding her and ought to
lift my /eto. I might even have inferred that in my posi-
tion in Mr. Grainger's employ it was for me to arrange
their meetings.
"You will see him, dear Mrs. Brokenshiie— if it's
light," was the only answer I could find.
"You don't seem to remember that I was to have
married him."
" I do, but we both have to remember that you didn't."
" Neither did I marry Mr. Brokenshiie. I was handed
over to him. When Lady Mary Hamilton was handed
over in that way to the Prince of Monaco the Pope an-
nulled the marriage. We knew her afterward in Buda-
pest, married to some one else. If there's such a thing as
right, as you're so fond of saying, I ought to be considered
free."
I was holding both her hands as I said:
"Don't try to make yourself free. Let life do it."
"Life!" she cried, with a passionate vehemence I
scarcely knew to be in her. " It's life that— "
"Treat life as a friend and not as • a enemy. Trust it;
wait for it. Don't hurry it, or force it, or be impatient
with it. I can't believe that essentially it's hard or cruel
or a curse. If it comes from God, it must be good and
beautiful. In proportion as we ding to the good and
beautiful we must surely get the thing we ought to have."
aA6
THE HIGH HEART
if V'^V "^°* '^^ *^* '^ ««*Pted this doctrine
^helped her over a day or two, Wgme fLXZ
tone bemg to give my attention to my oL 4S H^
mg no nat«ralstamina.the poor, lovely UWeSureS^"
^St^^iKerr^Si-'^x^rH
:^^2.rdi7d-^r?s^-S™
short step of her way. I find i^hSltpL^rr
^mLSSe^e^^T^LrBH
r^ors-sis£.--toiT5S
aherome. Any UtUe fright or difficulty uS^T I
Z'^rhL",i'°'tni '^ ^ ^' Sh'J'wit^
li^;^ ^ ''P '''"^^^' "^ ^hen the sudden mist
as I was by the aching heart, I was capt^ted^^
perfect face; and I couldn't help it. '^'^^'^^ ^^ «»«
jnius through the rest of February and into M»r.», ^
iTtht^-^ , T ^ *^^ conditions rendered possible
In the intervals I comforted Hugh, and beat off^
Strangways. and sat rigiay still while S^ ^^
,>^;ir ^u^'*^*'^^- Afraid of him as I wal
It fflted me with grim inwani amusement to Zo^ ^
he was equally afraid of me.^ He came into Zlb^
THE HIGH HEART
from time to time, when he happened to be at his houae,
and like Mrs. BrokenAiie gave me the impmsion that
the frustration of their love was my fault. As I sat primly
and severely at my desk, and he stalked round and iDund
the room, stabbing the old genUeman who classified prints
and the lady who collated the early editions of Shakespeare
with contemptuous glances, I knew that in his sight I
represented— poor me I— that virtuous respectability the
sinner always holds in scorn. He could not be ignorant
of the fact that if it hadn't been for me Mre. Brokenshire
would have been meeting him elsewhere, and so he held
me as an enemy. Had he not known that I was something
besides an enemy he would doubtless have sent me about
my business.
In one of the intervals of this portion of the drama I
received a visit that took me by surprise. Early in the
afternoon of a day in March, Mrs. Billing trotted into the
library, foUowed by Lady Cecilia Boscobel. It was the
sort of occasion on which I should have been nervous
enough in any case, but it became terrifying when Mrs.
Billing marched up to my desk and pointed at me with
her lorgnette, saying over her shoulder, "There she is,"
as though I was a portrait.
I struggled to my feet with what was meant to be a
smile.
"Lady CedUa Boscobel," I stammered, "has seen me
already."
"Well, she can look at you again, can't she?"
The English girl came to my rescue by smiling back,
aiid murmuring a faint "How do you do?" She eased the
situation further by saying, with a crisp, rapid articula-
tion, in which every syllable was charmingly distinct:
"Mrs. Billing thought that as we were out sight-seeing we
348
THE HIGH HEART
It's shown e\-ery day, isn't
•n^t M wen look at this
It?"
only •'on'^*^^:^^' -^en p,a«s we« shown
Other's pSTzm^^iLT so tm«ome. One of her
old Tudc^Se.^^,^' '" Nottingh,n«*i„,. an
public only on ^^i^To^^'^T^^'^'^'
even the family couldn't r«««:iZ^ Wednesdays, and
and have tourists s^;°,t"^;:::f ^°" '^-. —«e.
b«ath. While £. £g t'uSL T "' '° '"' "^
room with which she mt^f hZ her lorgnette on the
^-wastobeanXlL'^alS?^,^'??"^-. «
and me I gathered that .»,» '^J; oetween Lady Cissie
feminine JvJZ t^Tf V^^" *° P^">-
smaU hat of the sLe JzT^ ^ ^^ S"^- ^^th a
air of being tie aZLS^filTJ^'"^'^' ^^ "^ "^at
of her voii ann^St^ ^ tl'h^''^ *"/ *°"«
the thought that W„„t, JTt' ^ heart grew fa^nt at
«W. so^Sl^S h^i^d^mt^ '° '^'^'^ ^^-- ^
stn-Uedoffto^r^h.^SSn*^''^?^- =^
so as toSyX d.^..^ ,'°°^ °'^ ^"^ "^^ed old-
old. wheTra'^^'jf^P^y^^ees that go with being
n<««daysisy^ °"^ ^^ "^ '^y ^^Y. whic^
"You're English, aren't you?" Ladv n«,-j;, t^
soon as we were alone. "loTteU Wk "^^ ^
I said I was ft ro„.j- T^'*"hy the way you speak."
s«a I was a Canadian.^that I was in New Yorkm^
THE HIGH HEART
wtoB by .cddent, Md might go bMk to my own country
. ...""*' interertingl It bdongi to ui, Cuiadia, doen't
rJ^*t «I|«WyJ««ic emphMi. on the prxjper noun I
rephed that Canadia natur«Uy belonged to the Canadians,
^t that the King of Gr*at Britain and I«l«n7W^
long, and that we were very loyal to all that we
represented.
"Fancy! And isn't it near here?"
All of Canada, I stated, was north of some of the United
States, and some of it was south of others of the United
States but none of the more settled parts was difficult of
access from New York.
. ''^'^'^'^'^■"^^•'iwoomfflent on these geograoh-
ical indications. "I think I i«nember that a w^ of
ours was governor out there-or something-though ner-
haps it was in India." ^^ "'"ugaper
I named the series of British noblemen who had ruled
over us since the confederation of the provinces in 1867,
but as Lady Cecilia's kinsman was not among them yn
concluded that he must have been Ticeioy of India or
Governor-General of Australia.
I ?^' *^ ^""^^ *° introduce us to each other, and
lasted while Mrs. Billing's tour of inspection kepi her
within earshot. *'- "«
I am bound to admit that I admired Lady Cecilia with
an envy that might be qualified as green. She was not
clever and she was not well educated, but her high br«d-
ing was so spontaneous. She so obviously belonged to
spheres where no other rule obtained. Her mamier was
the union of pohsh and simplicity; each word she pro-
nounced was a pleasure to the ear. In my own case life
350
THE HIGH HEART
engaged to him, buTllS S^ I ^ '^ "°* P^'^J'
either of two co^ditiLt ^6^ ^1^7 "? "
to state what th™* /v«,j-»- '-amea out. I went on
fannatioTSlt^^e^T^^'^.^f^^'^'l' ">e i„-
She nodded hit;^^eS"^"=^^^'-'^'^--
•'N^'7 *^'''r;"«' th^'y '^on't come n«nd."
coJlndiSSauT^n^oi:;^^^; . "**^ '^
-diUon I nT^Jp^,,«-^i^ ..It's the other
THE HIGH HEART
I bad a sudden suspicion.
"Wrong about what?"
The question put Lady Cecilia on her guard.
"Oh, nothing I need explain." But her face lighted
with quick enthusiasm. "I call it magnificent."
"Call what 'magnificent'?"
"Why, that you should have that conviction. When
one sees any one so sporting — "
I began to get her idea.
"Oh, I'm not sporting. I'm a perfect coward. But a
sheep will make a stand when it's put to it."
With her hands in her sable muff, her shapely figure was
inclined slightly toward me.
"I'm not sure that a sheep that makes a stand isn't
braver than a lion. The man my sister Janet is engaged
to-^ie's in the Inverness Rangers— often says that no
one could be funkier than he on going into action; but
that," she continued, her face aglow, "didn't prevent his
being ever so many times mentioned in despatches and
Getting his D. S. O."
"Please don't put me into that class— "
"No; I won't. After all, a soldier couldn't really funk
things, because he's got everything to back him up. But
you haven't. And when I think of you sitting here all by
yourself, and expecting that great big rich Mr. Broken-
shure and Ethel, and all of them, to come to your terms—"
To get away from a view of my situation that both con-
soled and embarrassed me, I said :
"Th^ you, Lady CedKa, very, very much; but it
isn't what you meant to say when you began, is it?"
With some confusion she admitted that it wasn't.
"Only," she went on, "that isn't worth while now."
A hint in her tone impelled me to insist.
353
THE HIGH HEART
^Itmaybe. You don't know. Please tdl me what it
What makes you so sure she was wrong?"
"sSTZ \T:u ^ "^ '^■" S''^ ^^«1- reluctantly.
^E^ thought th«« was some one-^«me one besite
"And what if there was?"
I don t beh^ ^ people making each other anymore
^^ than they can help, do you?" She had a habit
^«mg up her small grBy-g,«« eyes into two glim.
««mg htae shts of hght, with an effect of shyness sW
^t^ 7"'^**"'*'''^'^- 'We're both giris.
n* T/J? ^^' '^^ y°" '^'^ be much S
^d so I tiKn^t-that is. I thought at first-that if S
^anyone else in mind, there'd be no use in ourmafi
eat^o^ermiserable-butlsee you haven't; and^-^
th« t^f.""'^ I Jaughed, nervously, "the race must be to
the swift and the batUe to the strong. Is that itr
ri„i_!?' °°* ^y- What I was going to say is that
smce-«nce there's nobody but Hugh-you won't to
offended with me. will you'-I won't Step in-"
It was my turn to be enthusiastic.
"But that's what I caU sporting!"
"Oh no, it isn't. I haven't seen Hugh for two or th«e
years, and whatever Uttle thing there was-"
I stomed forward across my desk. I know my eve.
must have been enonnous. '^ ow my eyes
"But was there— was there evej--anything?"
Oh no; not at all. He-he never noticed me. I was
only m the school-room. a«d he was a grown-up y^
THE hlGH HEART
nm. H his father and nune hadn't been great friemfc-
and got plans into their head^Laura and Janet used to
poteftm at me about it. And then we «xle together and
played te^ and golf, and so-but it was aU-^t
nothing. You know how silly a girl of seventeen c^
It was nonsense I only want you to know.in case he ever
so httl^I only want you to know that th.u :: the way I
feel about it-^d that I didn't come over i.e:^ to- I
don t say that if in your case there had beer any one else
-but I see there isn't-Ethel Rossiter is vvr<.ng-^d so
rf I can do anything for Hugh and youi.di with the
Br^enshires, I-I want you to make use of ir,c
With a dignity oddly in contrast to tlii. .tammerinK
confe^on, which was what it was, she rose to her feeVa!
Mrs. BiUing came back to us.
Thehook-nosed face was somber. Curiosit v a. to other
people s busmess had for once given place in tl-e old lady's
thoughts to meditations that turned inward. T suppwe
Oiat m some perverse fashion of her own 'i , lo.ed her
daughto-, and suffered from her unhappine: Ti.ere was
enough m this room to prove to her how srud; v mere self-
seelong can overreach itself and ruin what it vi., to build
WeU. what are you talking about.?" she .r.apped as
she approached us. "Hugh Brokenshire, I'U I^t a^ "
Fancy! was the stroke with which the English girl
Bmilmg dimly, endeavored to counter this attack '
^Mi^Billing hardly paused as she made her way toward
•'Don't let her have him," she threw at Lady Ceciha.
He s not good enough for her. She's my kind, " .he went
on, poking at me with her loi^gnette. "Need, a man with
brains. Come along, Cissie. Don't mind what she says
aS4
THE HIGH HEART
You grab Hu^ the first chance you get. Shell have
b.^ fish to fry. Do come along. We've had eno^
iJf^^ ^^^ "^^ ^ ^°°^ ^"'^ '^th *e over-acted list-
lessness of two daughters of the Anglo-Saxon race tiyinit
to carry off an emotional crisis as if they didn't know whrt
1 '°^*" . ^"* "^^ ^^ ^ 8one I thought of her-I
thought of her with her Limoges^namel coloring, her
lusaous Enghsh voice, her English air of race, her dignity
her style, her youth, her naivete, her combination of di
the quahtaes that make human beings distinguished b<s
cause there is nothing else for them to be. I drakged
mysdf to the Venetian mirror and looked into it. With
Jny plain gray frock, my dark complexion, and my simply
arranged hair, I was a poor little frump whom not even tte
one man in five hundred could find attractive. I wondered
how Hugh could be such a fool. laskedmyself if hecodM
go on bemg such a fool much longer. And with the thourfit
that he would-^d again with the thought that he
wouldn t— I surprised myself by bursting into tears
CHAPTER XVII
outnted to say "Sl^^S? "5^ ' P«. k« <«.
THE HIGH HEART
™wii 1 ijneA that his smaU inherited capital was
SSri^,? t^^r*" 'l"«*"P""g itself thr^h aT
^*Jon w^th Stecy Grainger's enterprises. ^ s^
G«tng« hiniself he ««itinued to feel an admimtion^
S^J^TsT^' ''^ '^^^ " -^"^ '^ '-^-o
Of Mrs^Brokenshire I was seeing less. Either she had
^ ^ to domg without her lover or she was meeting
him in some other way. She stiU came to see me as often
ae'Tehtr''' ?!*«—* -«notional or exdteHe
^ TtL Z^-°"^ affectionate than before, and
^jas with a dignity that graduaUy put me at a
ni!!^ ^* "" *^^ company of Mre. Rossiter. That
happened when once or twice I went to the house to^
f™ T "^^7^ ^^"S ^ <»W=. or when S
fonner employer drove me round the Park. Just Tn^I
^mej,portunity to hint that Lady Cissie hadn't ^
Hugh &om me as yet, to which Mrs. Rossiter replied^
that was obviously because she didn't want him
.1 Z" ^J^' therefore, at a standstiM, or moving so
slowly that I couldn't perceive that we we^; moZT^!^
^ys at tte oth^ end. sin<« he used any and every ^
Sw^'?^°^''^^*°^- Hepl^-gedintotC
v^ any of the usud moming greetings <^relimin^
^^J^ you game to go to Boston by the fiveK,'dock bain
THE HIGH HEART
«npS^' said. .'Wh.tr but I said it with ««,
"Why should I be?"
He seemed to hesitate before replyis
Youd know that." he <!ai(1 of i.^v""^. i.
the train." ne said at last, when you got on
;;is it a joke?" I inqui^, ^^^ ^ jj^^^ ,
iJt^ZZ^J?- ''' -^-- ^ -°t 3^ to
"But what for?"
tnZX W.Tvc^T;^'"^"" '^^ "''- y- ^°t - the
ulY ^ ^ 2°°® ■^'^O' far."
And do you think that's information enough?"
It will be mformation enough for you when I sav
thatag^tdealmaydependonyourdofngasTSc" ^
I raised a new objection. si^oiasjc.
^^^What shall I do when I get to Boston? Whe^ shall
voZ^'^-r-."^""'" '"°''- Y°"'" h^ve to act for
258
THE HIGH HEART
MI can say is that whatever happens you'U be needed
and If you re needed youTl be able to play the game "'
He went on with further directions. It would be pos-
sible to take my seat in the train at twenty nunutes before
the hour of departure. I was to be early on the spot so as
to be aniong the first to be in my place. I was to take
noaung but a suit-case; but I was to put into it enough to
last me for a week, or even for a week or two. I was to
be iM^aixd for roughing it. if necessary, or for anything
else that ,U, -sloped. He would send me my ticket within
an hour a-,.l provide me with plenty of money
"But «•;.:•, is it?" I implored again. "It sounds like
spying, or i:.-.. secret service, or sometijing mdodramatia"
Its thv;.. of those things. Just be ready. Wait
.fw-r" ■'''''' '■'^ ^'^ ^* y°^ ^'^^^ and the money."
Will you liring them yourself.'"
"No. I c-.in't; I'm too busy. I'm calling from a pay-
station. r)..:,'t ring me up for any more questions. Just
00 as 1 ve : :. d you, and I know you'll not regret it— not
aslonga5\ jilive."
_ He put u;. the receiver, leaving me bewildered. My
Ignorance v .,s such that speculation was shut out. I kept
saying to n.vsolf: "It must be this, "or. " It must be that "
but with , .. conviction in my guesses. One dreadful
suspicion cri; ; :o to me. but I firmly put it away.
A httle ai • > r twelve a special messenger arrived, bringine
my ticket r. ! five hundred dollars in bank-notes. I teew
then that i -.ras in for a genuine adventure. At one I put '
on my hat a :d coat, locked the door behind me, and went
off to my hotel. Mentally I was leaving a work to whid,
from certain points of view, I was sorry to say good-by. but
1 could afford no backward looks.
At the hotel I packed my belongings and left tham so
2S9
THE HIGH HEART
Marie Aatoinet^r Ko™ TT.?'^^^-««J
tten never to see ttitZ?* "* ^T°"*' "«»» «*
been digged over hTth^uWe^^^ ^p*^ ^^'^ '«<'
««mIhadnop«visiona,to^f:Vl^^"r^- Like
was to become of me. I ZZ Tl .'^. ^°"^ ** "'^t
• kind of glory « the fact-^^tr ' "~^°^'^'y' "^ '^^
La«y Strangways to X^^"L^. "^ «°*"» at the caU of
"""Id. In as far as ^^ i ^ ^^^^ *» put out of mv
«P««itmt«i^p^^„7 J"^,*) ^ ^'^ «y best t^
ofamysteriousn«na^^'!r"^"^°°t«tbe heroine
•nd unafraid. I S^7^T'**«'*''^*°^t«.
««ither «P-to^te^^ ' """^^ ^^^id, and I wai
t^ »e'^?i^Ptlt but the fiction Z
to Hugh. '^'^"y*™^ and sent a telegram
•^StLSt^^-^-^'- too late for him to
ar^£::'''^S[^°^^Iwrx^. "Mayleadto
Saving sent this cSarhSf^TLr^ri*' '^''''■"
the station. '^'^ ^°^' ^ took a taric^ fca-
^^a^S^^^-'^^-t^c-sfunytha,
WM the first to WtH^J! r^?*P *° I«^e me, I
the first to takeTy ^t rSef^ *° ">e train, and
My ehair wa. two X^l ^ °°^' "^^'^ parlor-car.
'^t. OncHr^^^^^'^.f^theentr^rceand
360
THE HIGH HEART
But I watched fa v«m. Pop > ♦;— t
«Vt«««.t. empty ^ cT^*^ ' ^J^^f^^
porter, M ]ike to my own „ <»eStr«.,S!^ ~^
fin« W» way fa. dnggkJy^Zn^A T^' ""^ ^-
•nd followed tJ^oRZ^ ^ ^^. ^P^linient..
PorterfastaUed'TcSL'^^^^S,'^;- '^'*'*^
^^Z of wtL'^^HeS' ^ *S5 S,""^
injunctions as to conduct «nM^ f'..^ '"**«• *°*
a^yo^-mT -"-^«-^^J
one loold^Jt?,2,£^57^^P-««^^ type. ^"^
w»s not promismg. * '"^^'^y **» '»«**i«l
ottt of the station a shadow p3^!l*^r*l!!" '^'^
that of Larry Sbangwa^ H?^r ^*^ ^ ^lew to be
cJunUng^erttT^S "™*°° t" the fourth seat,
'^n'nd i^dT^l^ at if '' S''*; ^^ '^ed it. turned
no sign of SS£rbeySi?^^KL'"^
understood then that I wJnntfr^Z^- .^* ''**^- ^
mthe adventure. W-Tit "t^e^^^ v:^^'.^'
strangers. vu»ucu oui, we were to be as
One more thmg I saw. He had never he^ «, ,
gnm or detennined in aU the ttae iTS S^.^^ T
had hardly supposed that it was in £ to rso^'
nuned. so gnm, or so pale. I Pather«lT=ri, ^^'
our mission more to heart thaf I h^ * ^^.^ ^'^K
Pnxnpt fa action as iSd^ ^""""^^'^^ *^*-
«s naa teen, I was considering it toa
SOI
THE HIGH HEART
«Bpp«ntIy. Inwardly I prayed for nave to wpporf him
*nd for that piwenoe of mind which would teU mewhat ui
do when there was anything to be done.
<^Z^t^ 'i ^^'^'^ my zeal that he wa. so hwidsome.
Straight and slun and upright, his features were of that
leaa. Wond. regular type I used to consider Anglo-Saxon
but which, now that I have seen it in so many Scandinal
vjans. I have come to ascribe to the Norse strain in our
Wood. The eyes were direct; the chin was fiim: the
nose as straight as an ancient Greek's. The relatively
anaU mouth was adorned by a relatively small mustache,
twisted up at the ends, of the color of the coffee-bean, and.
to my adminng feminine appreciation, blooming on hia
face like a flower.
His neat spring suit was also of the color of the coffee,
bean, and so was his soft felt hat. In his shirt there weni
hnes of tan and violet, and tan and violet appeared in the
tie beneath which a soft collar was pinned with a Rdd
safety pin. The yeUow gloves that men have affected of
late years gave a pleasant finish to this costume, which
was quite complete when he pulled from his bag an Eng-
Wi traveling-cap of several shades of tan and put it on
He also took out a book, stretching himself in his chair in
such a way that the English traveUng-cap was all I could
henceforth see of his personality.
I give these detaUs because they entered into the mingled
unwilhngness and zest with which I fouru! myself dragged
on an errand to which I had no due. StJl less had I a due
when the train began to move, and I had nothing but the
pT t .' f "^""^ travding-cap to bear me company.
But no, I had one other detoU. Before sitting down Mr.
^trangways had carefully separated his own hand-luggage
irom that of the person who would be behind hin-., and
262
THE HIGH HEART
*Wch faduded .n «Lrter. « wtUdng-rtick. and a cMe of
C^ub.. I inferred, therrfore. that the wayfarer who
owned one of the two chairs between Mr. Stranewavi and
my«If««tbean»n. Il« chair direc^TZtcS
mine remained empty. ""i. «
As we passed mto the tunnel my mind lashed wildly
about m search of eicplanations, the only one I could find '^
being that Larry Strangways was kidnapping me. On
arriving m Boston I might find myself confronted by a
niamagehcenseandacleigyman. If so. I «ad to myifi.
with an Mtraordmary thriU. there would be nothing fa?
it but submission to this/<,r« majeure, though I had to
admit that the averted head, the English traveling-cap.
and the mtervemng ulster, walking-stick, and golf-club,
worked against my theory. I was dreaming in this way
when the teain emerged from the tunnel and stopped »
bnefly at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street thatcon-
Bdenng it afterward, I concluded that the pause had been
wrangedfor. It was just long enough for an odd Uttle
bundle of womanhood to be pulled and shoved on the car
and thrown mto the seat immediately in front of mine.
I^oose my verbs with care, since they give the efiect
^uced on me The Uttle woman, who was swathed in
Uack veils and dad w a long black shapeless coat, seemed
not to act of her own voUtion and to be more dead than
aJive. The porter who had brought her in flung down her
two or three bags and waited, significantly, though the
tram was abeady creeping its way onward. She was
plainly unused to fending for herself, and only when as a
iwmnder, the man had toudied his hat a second time did it
occur to her what she had to do. Hastily unfastening a
smaU bag, she pulled out a handful of money and thrust it
at hun. The man grinned and was gone, after which she
18 263
MiaoCOfY RISOIUTION TtSI CHART
(ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No. 2)
_A APPLIED IM/C3F
■= '- '6M Eajl Main Strwl
^•^S ( ' ' 6) *82 - 03CW - Phone
:^^ (716) 288 -5969 -fax
THEjHIGH HEART
fitting hat and the folds of ^ JoL w 7^ "^"^
easiest inference was tSt if .'ong black coat. The
thing whomTeTr^^ljS^""^''* be some poor old
was, I think L^„ r- ^"°^ to be rid of, which
Speir?n^„l^°''7^-°t^ -- nrighbors drew.
-yshadnottS'Ltr"""*^"'^^*-^-
later, the tid^W '^ ''''^- «»°« J^-hcmr
O^^i^^f^ ^f^ ^"''^J' ^°^ the aisle.
Sr.^rf^* ^i^f-f «»,« advance, but t!^
-«>&wrilTerle":^--S«-t
rlSrt*--^^eS^.^^^
THE HIGH HEART
youth of the cheap sporting type and I went after the oo&s.
Since I was a young woman and the lady with her head in
abag nught be taken for an old one, I had no diffic^ty S
securmg his harvest, which he handed over to me ^^^
m^batmg^. Returning the leer as much in ^o^
copper to Its owner. To do this I stood as directly as
S . r ^"*.°i '•^' "^ ''^^' inadvertently. Shi
raised her head I tried to look her in the eyes
B„f trr ^ "^^ °^«''* '^^^ '^ ^y °ne's eyes.
But m the motion of the hand that took the money
and m the silvery tinkle of the voice that mad"S
1°^ « ix^sible in munnuring the words. "Thank
you! I couldnt be mistaken. It was enough. If J
hadat seen her she at least had seen me. and L I went
back to my seat.
I had got the fct part of my revelation. With the aid
of the ulster, the walking-stick, and the golf-dubs I could
g^at the n.t I knew now why iLy S^^
want«i me there, but I didn't know what I was to do By
myself I could do nothing. Unless the Httle begum took
tiie initiative I shouldn't know where to begin.TcoZ
oo^^take ,t for granted that she was not on legiti^te
But she had seen me, and there was something in that. '
If the owMT of the vacant chair turned up he. too, would
see me, and he wouldn't wear a veil. We should look each
other mtte eyes, and he would know that I knew what he
w^ about to do The situation would not be pleasant for
me. tot It would conceivably be much less pleasant for
"HyDuQy clsc*
a6$
THE HIGH HEART
tJ^Si^'^^^*^^ the beautiful g«ea coma.
«wr fho^^^ ^" ^^ ^°^°8 freshness Of sprine was
th^lf *^^ ^'^ ^*°P^ ^* New Haven I was afraid
that the owner of the ulster an,1 ti,« ir .T^
aonear an^ *u * . ** *°® golf-dubs would
thP tin! ° r • *^^ passengers began to thin out as
the tmie came for going to the dining-car. In the ^l^
- eSt.^"^ ^^ *^^ ^^^'^ ^-veUng-cap
bunushed line'of t,:^!^.^ ^S^ ^^l'^^^'
n-be out a sprinkling of wa; yell^SJ ^^tZ"
. and what a few nunutes earlier had been tmli»>,f k1
qmcHy the night. It ^ the wistM^Tl^r^f hlS^
heart-searching time. If the little ladv in fronTl?
we to have qualms as to w'-at sht\^^ • ^ """
come then. ^ ^ '^° '"'^'^ ^^ '^ ^omg they would
And indeed as I watched her it seemed to me fh.t-
S.rTto'" ^''"^"^^ underr:i^,r«^!
«8.^ as if to wipe away a tear. ftesenUy she lifted
30u
THE HIGH HEART
t^ unsteady hands and began to untie her outer vefl
When ,t came to finding the pins by which it 7j^.
Wiif, ^' "T*^""* """^S round to where I should
have been obhged to look her in the face; and it w^so
When_ r helped her take off the veil underneath
I m smothering." she said, very much as it might hive
been said by a httle child in distress K».nive
aie wore still another veU. but only that w • .
bnghtly hghted and most of our fellow-travders ha^
gone to dmner, she probably thought she had little to f^
As she gave no sign of recognition on my rendering my
smaU services I subsided again into my ch4 ^
But I knew she was as conscious of mv oresenrv n= r
V- of hers. It was not whoUy suiprisi^g Jh^",?^^^,
.v^ty minutes later she should swing round in the ^..
mg^haiv and drop aJl disguises. She did it wittT^a
words, tearfully yet angrily spoken:
'What are you doing here?"
m^£ ^V° ^T"- u^'"- B^kenshir^." I x«pHed,
meekly. Are you doing the same ?"
on 'I^ '^°"' ""^^ ''"^ ''"^S. and youVe come to spy
There is something about the wrath of the sweet, mUd ,
Z.^t' i5'*^'^^'^^°'^»tnow,butnotsomuchthatr
couldn't outwardly keep my composure. "''''^^^^
It I know what you're doing. Mre. Brokenshire " I
loreuand. I didn t know you were to be on this train tiU
THE HIGH HEART
ZnV/' "' ^ '--°'* »-« -« it wa, yo« till this
"»-J^ f if ^* to do as I please." she dedared. hoa«elv
wthout having people to dog me." ^^ coarsely,
leave? If I m here th s evenine and v™,'~ uIL . ?f
«me deepemng of the tone, and speaking do^tl^,
'What do you mean ?"
.. t!Z Vf* y°" "* «^°^S to stop me-"
By a singular set of cir!^ta^c2 S ^t^^"
by side on the same tmin. wLTcTrsT^''-''
the situation than that?" '°°" "*
"You do see more."
- ^'•/°' * "^""t^- 1 n^de no reply.
That hurts me." I said ^at j^^. ;.b„, j j,^^^ ^^
THE HIGH HEART
w*en you've considered it ytw'il see th«f - .
unjust to me." o-""" see that you've been
"You've suspected meeversincelknew you "
y««elf- I've ne^ sSTLS^ ^^ ^^^^ i"
thought anything.^tTitl'SHVn^' "^ ™^
months ago, that yo^s^r J^l^- ^«>''«»«Wre two
-made. ThatZralrhXTSlS^^
your chamcter stritpc ^^ ." "^ up to the beautv of
"I wasn't a^^*°S^'?^*-r^Wething^..
iif.^ddoone's^t^nve^;^^'?!'- standa«t of
<.tHJtS::^' I^'^^t'Sd^-^*" ^- -'»-
women Itoowr ^*^*^* Pyi». and a lot of
P««»»caabemoreboSd^frii?ir°^' ^° °"^
y«t when it comes toXae w^ f -^^ ^°*'*: «"d
'^^f-youthan^''^^.'^ ^.^^^ybem..
.. l^i »e why it should be."
and neither have I if^^' ^- ^« ^^^^n't,
circles have to wJ^f^f "'Jyo- own htUe
limited; but if v™?^„^ '■ ^** *^^ ^^^w we can do is
•■I -?iy7rt°s3t "'"^ ^^ -"^^ --*^•"
-ti^^S^tiSl-^ ^ "^ ^"^ ^^^ be caUed a
"There a.^ just as impor^t men in the country as he."
THE HIOH HEART
Think of what it means to be one of the hundred most
mM^°^r"*" "Tv*^ * population of a hundred
nuUions. The responsibility must be tremendous."
Ive never thought of myself as having any particular
responsibihtj^-not any mere than anybody else " -
But, of course, you have. Whatever you do gets an
SSnT^"^^ ** ^^ *^** y°»'« Mrs. Howard
Biokenshire When, for example, you came to me that
SL^J^', ?^ ^* N""!^- y"^ ^""^^ was the
ym were. We ^'t get away from those considerations,
men you do nght, right seems somehow to be made more
beautiful; and when you do wrong—"
^^I don't thirJc it's fair to put me in a position like
"I don't put you in that position. Life does it. You
wwebOTntobehighup. When you faU, therefore-"
D«i^t talk about falling."
"But it would be a faU, wouldn't it? Don't you i«-
^T^'.!^' ten or twelve years ago, how a Saxon crown
pnncess left her home and her husband? WeU, all I mean
•stiiat b^use of her position her story mng through the
tW However one might pity unhappiness, or s^pa-
tit^e^ a miserable love, there was something in it that
degraded her country and her womanhood. I suppose the
poor things mability to Uve up to a position of hror wa^
tSL^r^T^- D^'^'tyo^tW^ that th.t was
what we felt ? And in your case—"
" You mustn't compare me with her "
^n"^°; ^ ^°°''-^^cf y- All I meau is that if-if you
do what— what I think you've started out to do— "
She raised her head defiantly.
370
w
w:
THE HIGH HEART
'And I'm going to."
«=andal. It wiU bTSe^taS^Sf "^ "", ''*'^"« "•«
, fireside between the AtW- ^ '='"'' «"d every
London and Paris and Rm„. ^„ ^^ P^P*" of
be a week in wWa^i°^' ^L ^"^;•""'' ^'^^
son in the world " ^" "^ *»>« ™«t discussed per-
pointed at-ifs what it w^h ^° "^ <=ase you'd be
wl. ^ had gone ov^ t^ ^,"2 ^T ^'^ « -°°-n
that by to break down whatX^T"^ "" civilization
up. You'd do like ZtT^L ^°°^ ^°"^ ^ building
strike a blow aWo^ecS^P^ T^ P""'^^' y°«'d
Therearethousan^TpTS,.^*^ *' "" womanhood,
and America whoTsaT S iTT""""^^'^
things—'" ^' ^^' "^ she can do such
"Oh, stop!"
I stopped It seemed to me that for the tim. .^- r
had gjven her enough to thinl- .k^T the tune b«ng I
therefore, looking o^ at thT^v^ ^^ "** ^«>t.
<«fted back f«^ S l?;rScS^^, ?r ^ -''o
were dozing or absorbed in bo^ ^ ** ""' '^^ «»«
THE HIGH HEART
Porter^^ked lu. to brin, a botUe of .pri^.w.,.,«^
folding the remainder ^ti^iL^^J" T"'
away The dmple meal we ha^^ tLS^l^
something of our old-time confid«!«^ *<«<»«»«« restored
in it^ '^ir^'^^ufXtJ.'^l' - I P«t the bag back
*.ii tiif . suppose. He g— he's not to come tnr .».
^..W«. getting near the Back Bay^^J^^'
I brought out my question simply though T u.a i™-
^d^ing it f„ some time. -^^I':^U!fJZ
She moved uncomfortably
tioa she glanced m^L„,l! • *^ * '!"'''^*" ^°^^
"Would jWStJ^ ''^^ '^^ ^'^ t^« dark.
Isbookmyhead
JI_couldn't. I've never seen a man struck dead.
"S^J^^S ?«""f ^"-hy do you say Lt?"
on at.^ ' '^ ^ *"'<* ^' 't's what I should have to look
^ began wringing her hands.
Oh no, yon wouldn't."
37a
He's » itr dren man—
THE HIGH HEART
"Only of what evety one can we
you've told me so yourself."
" Yes, but I said it onlv ahmit w..»t. t
She seemed to stiffen.
"It's not my fault if he can't "
^-i^CAt:r^l,T'- that he
•Mety but that's the sort rf fV ,* «^' ''««' <=*
and can endure. Xy^l «»"« any father looks for
wife. Moreover. youS tKf. k "u"'"^^ y°"''* «s
slavish idolatry. ^C^r!'w°".^^*°«^P«'»itha
the worid and vrealtTw iif nature and time and
gether and lays itdown^v^fl ^ ^ ^"^^ *»-
only give him^ a ^e T. **■ '^**"*^ " y°»'«
Sheshudde.^ ^'o« aay think it pitiful-"
"IthinkitteiTibl^forme."
of. ^i^^tT.i^iY'j^'^'^^-'-talldng
"isn't v«yc«^**f;/, T^ J-^I^^ at her steadUy^
conditiorifSw4X°^^*^- Y°«^-o-^e
his nervous system^^o^^^ r/'^^-^d a^ for
pooreye." ^ ' "^ "^ ""^^ *° 'oo^ at his face and his
"•iuf^'^^u^^- Ifshiswholelif^..
But his whole life cuhainates in vo» t* ,
3-. and you repre^, ^^ IZ^Ss"!^^:^ ^
]i
n
THE HIGH HEART
leanw that you're deqjiMd his love aad diaboaomd U.
name—" nrrewi im
Her foot tapped the floor impatiently.
"You mustn't say things like that to me."
"I'm only saying them, dear Mrs. Brokenshire. w that
you U know how they sound. It's what every one else will
be saymg m a day or two. You can't be what-^what
you II be to-morrow, and still keep any one's respect.
And so. I humed on. as she was about to protest, "wton
he hears what you've done, you won't merely have broken
his heart. you'U have kiUed him just as much as if you'd
puUed out a revolver and shot him. "
She swung back to the window again. Her foot eon-
tamed to tap the floor; her finge« twisted and untwist
hke wnthmg hvmg thmgs. I could see her bosom rise
and fall mpidly; her breath came in short, hard gasps
Whe" I wasn^ expecting it she n«mded on me K.
with flames m her eyes like those in a small tigress's
"You're saying all that to frighten me; but—"
'Tm saying it because it's true. If it frightens
"But it doesn't."
"Then I've done neither good nor harm."
"I've a right to be happy."
" Certainly, if you can be happy this way "
"And I can."
"Thenthwe'snomoretobesaid. We can only agree
w^thyou. If you can be happy when you've Mr. Br^
shire on your mmd, as you must have whether he's alive
Z ^1^ "f you can be happy when you've desecrated
aU the thmgs your people and your country look to a
woman m your position to uphold-then I don't think
any one will say you nay." ^^
a74
THE HIGH HEART
•'.ZJ* °?.^^ •"" •'^^^ that WM her right.
Other women — " '
" Y^, Mrs. Brofajndiire, other women berideo you have
tned the experiment of Anna Karfaina— "
"What's that?"
i. lf^J7 *" ^ °* '^°^^'' "»n*««^the woman who
fa mamed to an old man and runs away with a young one
hying to !«e him weary of the position in which she placed
mm, and dymg by her own act.
As she listened attentively. I went on before she could
object to my parable.
"It aU amounts to the same thing. There's no happi-
n«s except m right; and no right th . doesn't sooner or
^ter-sooner rather than later- .d in happiness.
y<w ye told me more than once you didn't beUev, that-
and if you don't I can't help it."
I feU back in my seat, because for the momen ; was
exhausted. It was not merely the actual situation that
took the strength out of me, but what I dreaded when the
man came for his prize from the smoking-car. I might
count on Lairy Strangways to aid me then, but as yet he
iMd not recognized my struggle by so much as glancing
Nor had I known .till this minute how much I cared for
the httle creature before me, or how deeply I pitied the
nian she was deserting. I could see her as happier con-
ditions would have made her, and him as he might have
become if his nature had not been warped by pride. Any
impulse to strike back at him had long ago died within me.
It might as weU have died, since I never had the nerve to
act on It, even when I had the chance.
She turned on me again, with unexpected fierceness.
275
THE HIGH HEART
I veactuaUy joined him already m^thi«^ .,.
beside that chair" <5>,. jTT'. "^ *™«>gs are there
, "'*'^- ''he nodded backwanl "»„ ^.i.
it 1:^.^"°^^'^ ^' •" *«-*^-- - <«<J I give
like?^^'" ""^ ««='«^. lyrically, "it wiU be
I ventured much as I intemipted.
but he won't-he won't die " ^ * wiU-but-
-I^<.nKhe.«S^--r^-heth.^
376 ^*
or
dead,!
THE HIGH HEAR'
- -«.u, as I've said alnsadv he'ir ^.-j u ^
anything you look for^Winli!!^'* ^f^ ^^^ «>d
She threw he«elf bSto t^fT^ ^'^^i"
a>«>ned. Lucidly th^HT "^^P*^ °' '»«• «*air and
above the mtleoTS^-„'^d1^.'f«Id«<rt be heaxd
Panion or trained nurse iTrC^ ^ ^'^ ^ P**"^ as a com-
"Oh, what's the^V"^!'!^.'*!?*"^-^ invalid.
desperation. "I've^one It jlt^'^ f***' ^ « ^^ °f
r.^-^'— -Av£^i.T--;-;ne
4rt^s°viSr:^^i-«b:^^«o„.,et-
as not to think of it even wiTZTt u ^ ^ had been so stupid
2x -°* - 3. 'pS'rt?o:^'^thr^''*^'
was the struggle at the PnA «* «, ■ -^ ^ "ad foreseen
StrangwajH^d tl^TLtl" ^7' ^^ ^^
^ththepow«^ofdarta«sTi„*l^^.''* ^^ *^^ ^°"*"
and de^ fought over a SlS^'^^'- '«'^-'^ -S*
-^V^:2Tngi?-2£-^«---"-
at io^LT^ZT^^^ .." ^- -"-i to get off
«e would be disappointed af ^■^,o^ r
««ed. "but he woul&^S^if *'?'• °^ «««e," I ^,
THE HIGH HEART
you had to do it; but if you continue to-night youcan never
come back again. Don't you see? Isn't it worth turning
over in your mind a second time— especially as I'm here
to help you? If you're meant to be a Madeline Pyne or an
Anna Kar^nina, youll get another opportunity."
"Oh no, I sha'n't," she sobbed. "If I don't go on to-
night, hell never ask me again."
"He may never ask you again in this way; but isn't it
possible that there may eventually be other ways? Don't
make me put that into plainer words. Just wait. Let
life take charge of it." I seized both her hands. " Dar-
ling Mrs. Brokenshire, you don't know yourself. You're
too fine to be ruined ; you're too exquisite to be just thrown
away. Even the hungry, passionate love of the man in
the smoking-car must see that and know it. If he comes
back here and finds you gone — or imagines that you never
came at all— he'll only honor and love you the more, and
go on wanting you still. Come with me. Let us go.
We can't be far from Providence now. I can take
care of you. I know just what we ought to do. I
didn't come here to sit beside you of my] own free
will; but since I am here doesn't it seem to you as
if— as if I had been sent?"
As she was sobbing too unrestrainedly to say anything
in words, I took the law into my own hands. The porter
had already begun dusting the dirt from the passengers
who were to descend at Providence on to those who were
going to Boston. Making my way up to him, I had the
inspiration to say:
"The old lady I'm with isn't quite so well, and we're
going to stop here for the night."
He grinned, with a fine show of big white teeth.
"All light, lady; I'll take care of you. Cranky old
278
THE HIGH HEART
^Jetr^n drew into Pn,videncestatio„and^rS;JS
obliged to pidl and drag and oush li«- «ii i, ^
lifted to the platfonT^ ^ ' *^ ^« '^ A^y
at^^°? '^1° ^ ""^ *="' '""'^^' I took time to glance
at the Enghsh traveling-cap I noterf th^ u.T^ ,
P«ied since leaving the main station in New Yo^W
Straagways could say that he was whoUy unTwa^ ^
19
CHAPTER XVra
W^Jr'^^^'f <!«> the train after M«. Brotenshins
hU t v^'"" it I heard fiom Mr. StraZZ^
?r^°* 't fipm him in some detail. I cangiyeit bTy
own words more easily than in his. '^
Hftl ."^7 .^ permitted to state here how much and how
httleof the xomaa« between Mr. Grainger and 1^
Brokensbre Larry st^ngways knew. Hetoe^nJf^
nothiag-but he inferred a good deal. ^f^T^l™
«^der has oWrabon as Mr. Grainger's confident ^
«^dto which otherwise he would have had no I^.Te
infixed, for mstance, that Mrs. Biokenshire wrote daflv
their m^tin^^ ^d^^ ^", ,£ iS^^^l"'"
2hTf^?****J^^«^^^tthisLtminr^d
as he had got out of it with other women he wasX,„1^„
^been the only such instance in Stacy Grainger's
^ Larry Strangways might not have felt impell^to
•S?= '^^■/?«^**»^°«inethathrCl^
wS± r^'^V "" ^""^ '* *^y '^"t to help ^^Ta
woman for whom he knew I cared. i'mesavea
aSo
THE HIGH HEART
cation of the3 "^^ ""^P*^ «« "!>««*« on the appli.
thrSSo"? aSt^'f "^-^^ ^ that monung go to
Boston, he had r^nTS f^L°° ^' fiv^'dock for
I have briefly J^^f j^^ "^ *5« «««« of which
available, belv^Jt.^ ^° ^^e-room was
Howfarhe was SS5L^:r^«*°'>^«°wn ideas.
Some n^y con,SrS:Se^tht'Z"* °' °^'°"-
unwarrantable interfeZU m -^ """^ ^^ °f
no importance I S^bsJl^ °"" •^'^^t •^"8 °f
j«st as they occm«d ^*°^' ^^« ^^ ^^^^ents
It must be evident that as Mr <5t« ,.
what was to happen he^,M ^ ^*^«^y5 didn't know
he could arrSforw.?^/t'^"°P'^°^^ti°n- All
acquaintances a^^e on^^ °^ *° ^°P« '^^
*«'Jd find d^^lZu T "^^^ «^t they
«««i on channScT^^L" T^« «*" ^'
^^i^ Stacy GtainL oT^f ^/r"".^"^^ ^ '"
Brokenshiz^4t^ra„yfel^?'^V >" P"«^« M«.
it was, run smootWy i^%'°J^5 *« ««°''- «><* as
I should have b^ m^,^ ^T ^^ ^^ "^^d on me
'^oelwasl^yi^S ^^ *^ ' ''^y ^
B^^lSSaTllS^^^J^ ~t ->-- M„.
a vague idea of what had^^^ Straagways had but
THE HIGH HEART
fl«t idea WM, as he plwaed it, to make hiawdf Ki«» «.
Hoping to dip into another car and Um^dT«ee&,„
with the outmanoeuvered lov«- t,- -. • *"**»«
fT^'^*'"" '.'' *""* "^ ^«^- P^^SS to taS
tor something on the floor tj,« t-ii /: * searen
came back aLn It ^l^JIl ^&P^ passed, but
back be^,^;^. '^ ««««sary that he should come
oacK because of the number on the ticket thn ^t^tJTlZ
waMong-stick. and the golf-dubs ' *^*
^"HeUo,'st«n;XT S?'A?'Sst^'"- •
of this?" ^^ What s the meaning
Strangways rose. As the question had been asked in
P«»pl»aty rather tiian in anger, he coT^^^
The meamng of what, sir?" -""wer calmly.
^Jei^ the deuce are you going? What a« you doing
"I'm going to Boston, sir."
"What for? Who told you vou could go to Boston?"
n.e tone b,^ to nettle the young „L, ^^^^^'^^
303
THE HIGH HEART
•ccnstomed to being sDol»n ♦
"No one told me, sir. T dirfnv . u
"The devil vouh2f*«?!^«rP'°y-"
"Since this
di.vn, -'"'"'• your emploi
Sr"'?"""' Since ^L?1
before
I'm
comeback." ^^ y°" *"e tickets you didn't
no''tJtiV°"HfJ?«*f«*nttoamanwho-s- But
"Y^-'sthe-taTho-fbi'^ r "««* '^ °-
Mr. Strangwavs ^^ u • ^" ""*»"« here?"
shook his heaT"^ ^^ '^ ^y^''"'^ i^ocently. and
What.' There must have b«n , i ^ u
havegotonatOneHun.fa^raSd,^^.''"^- ^« t°
"Possibly; I only sTTLnY^*^-^*^ Street-
fact. I've been nJn^and fdlTt.''-., x^'f " '^"^ "^
dunng the entire joui«ey h^/ *'""'' ^ l°°t«l Wund
-d?" he suggested, i/a lo^ 1?^ ^^^ "°* ^P«* -
temngtous." " ^ower tone. "People are lis-
--tbesamee.pCStoSr'.>* ^--tedly. "there
^^Psth:ZVSdr.^-2j-J.^veit. Per-
Mr. Grainger nodded his ^'^'^•"
■"•^'1 with the flashing teeth «.^^'°°- ^« colored
'^i^o^'ing them. ^ ^"^ '^^^ "P °° the broad grin,
wail^^'ilii^^Sltrrth? *^%?"-«°- "they
"Two ladies.?" uT^f. ^^^^^y^^ Ne' Yawk."
•■-««. .en.lemen.-?;rSn?iS"^.r-
283
young
THE HIGH HEART
Yep, jenTemen; ole and erankv T '>in'» k.-ji^ i
lley done grt off at P«Mdenoe. though ^wStoSl
TltS^ Boston, because ZI^TrcS??
He^d^r^Tof^L^l-r-^^^utHedid^
Did tte young lady wear-wear a veil?"
The porter scratched his head
thi^£,*Si°''*'*''^'*-^«°f them ther. flowery
S^ff^loS^_;;S,^^wf Hng desigT^
Kke aU over people's face " °«^ « l°«d of patten,-
• ^ss^t'^rroSsr-^"'^-^-^^^
"Was she— pretty?"
cvare of ^ „)« ^°^ *" ^« "as so soft-spoken. Had
^^of the ole one, who was what you'd call pl^b
.^yl^ ^•TH^' ''^ "^^ "°* ^^ following
204
THE HIGH HEART
»K «P the leqpth of the ro, a ■
^ at thrr/eS^.Tthrir^iS r ^^^
'*turued was livid- h.'. ™ ^^' "^ &ce as he
,."™8ways rephed, composedlv:
thing about. " '* ^"^ ''^^ I don't know any.
He slapped his knee
--. anythi., s^f rsSTboTt ^li?- £
tol^^'to?-^""'* '''^'' ^- ««t * drawi„g..oo«. as I
K y-"cSd^tS:l?toTf^ ^«- "-« to be had.
B-J I supp... that^-rSbl^ ~°''^"- ^ «'"-
,oaths£S.^rs::-^--^butaseriesof„utte^
Icon's growl. For ^e S!. '"''''^"^ ^ ^ f^'^ied
THE HIGH HEART
hM eyta, mod aooiething that mm foUy. futflity. and hdi>-
leuneu all over Urn. /. •»« ««p-
Atoort no further conver»tion paned between them
tai they got out m Boston. In the ctowd Stnnswayi
endeavored to go oflE by himself, but found Mr. Grainnr
constantly beside him. He was beside him when they
reached the place where tascAbs were called, and otdend
his porter to call one. ^^ «w>"a
"Get in," he said, then.
Lany Strangways protested.
"I'm going to — "
I must be sufiSdently unlady-like to give Mr. Grainger's
iwponse just as it was spoken, because it strikes me as
characteristic of men.
"Oh,heUI Get in. You're coming with me."
Chaiacteiistic of men was the rest of the evening In
^te of Triiat had happened-and had not hmppmei-
Messrs. vrfamgcr and Strangways partook of an exodlent
sopper together, eating and drinking with ^metite. and
smoking their cigars with what looked like an air of tnm-
qmUity Though the fury of the balked wild animal
retunied to Stacy Grainger by fits and starts, it didn't
interfere with his relish of his food and only once did it
break ite bounds. That was when he struck the ann of
his chair, saying beneath his breath, and yet audibly
enough for his secretary to hear:
"She funked it— damn her!"
Larry Strangways then took it on himadf to say
"I don't know the lady, sir, to whom you refer, nor the
reasons she may have had for funking it, but may I advise
you tor your own peace of mind to withdraw the two
concluding syllables?"
386
THE HIGH HEART
A pair or flme, meUacholy eyw tmt^ on him for »
noond unoompreheiidiiigly.
I I^..?*''*'" *•* <«•«*"«> lovw ^.«^ heavily «t
l«rt. " I may as weU take them back- ^
JJ^;;j<J^ women w«e my expeHenee. While
Bundled out into the station at Providence no two poor
toales could ever have been mo™ foriom. StJSn"^
the w«tm«-room with our bags amund us I felt like one
J«P«ee of the country to ^rhich they have come. I h^
«^^ seen on docks at Halif«t. As for Mn.. Brol^
way down upon the unexpected; never before hadshe b^
^^2^comed.andunp,epa:«,. ShewasioX^
-^^TtoBrf. Wwe she falling f:x»n an aeroplane she
c«dd not have b«n more at a loss as to wherHhe was
^ to ahght Small wonder was it that she should^
^2^^ one of her own valises and begin to «y dis.
hadto^diemustay I could hear the tr^ puffing out
ofthe station, and as far as that went she was safe My
fiirtpreoccupationshadtodowithwhereweweretogo
For Uus I made mquiries of the porter, who named what
to the ticket^ffice and put the same question gettine
aF.-^»mately the same answer. ITien seei^' f S!
dressed man and lady enter the station from a private
^ which Icould discern outside, I repeated my in,^C
^^InTi^^ that I had come fr«n New Y^k with^
mvahd lady who had not been weU enough to continue the
387
THE HIGH HEART
But I couldn't sob very lo^g. as I stm haddutiestofm.
THE HIGH HEART
ffl. It wu of litUe use to have her under my cuts at
Providence utJcm those who would in the end be most
concerned as to her whereabouU were to know the facts—
or the approximate facts— from the start. It was a case in
which doubt for a night might be doubt for a lifetime- and
so when she was suffidenUy cahn for me to leave her I
went down-stairs.
Though I had not referred to it again. I had made a
mental note of the fact that Mr. Brokenshire was at New-
port. If at Newport I knew he could be nowhere but in
one hotel. Within fifteen minutes I was talking to him
on the telephone.
He was plainly annoyed at being caUed to the instru-
ment so Ute as half past ten. When I said I was Alexan-
dra Adare ho -eplied that he didn't recognize the name.
"I was formerly nursery governess to your daughter
Mrs. Rossiter," I explained. 'Tm the woman who's
refused as yet to marry your son, Hugh."
"Oh, that person," came the response, uttered wearily.
"Yes, sir; that person. I must apologize for ringing
you up so late; but I wanted to teU you that Mrs. Broken-
shire is here at Providence with me."
The symptoms of distress came to me in a series of
choking sounds over the wire. It was a good half-minute
before I got the words:
"What does that mean?"
"It means that Mrs. Brokenshire is perfectly weU in
physical condition, but she's tired and nervous and over-
wrought."
I made out that the muffled and strangled voice said :
"I'll motor up to Providence at once. It's now half
past ten. I shall be there between one and two. What
hotel iJiall I find you at?"
aSg
THE HIGH HEART
"Don'totane. sir," I pleadeA "I had to teU you we
were in Providence, because you could have fou^raT
out by asking where the longistance caut^ S^'fi^*
but ts most important to JVto. Brokenshi«X?Z
should have a few days ^one " ^^
^I^shaU judge of that. To Tvhat hotel shall I
"I beg and implore you, sir, not to come. Please be.
heveme whenlsaythatitwill be better Wou^reS
Try to trtist me. Mrs. Brokenshire isn't far fr^a^
n, '?t^r°"";''''*^^'=^^-hertomitoa^■
ortwoIbeheveIco^ldtideheroverit•■ '^^""^
yii^rth^rr '°"°^ °" *^' *^ ^* ^ ^«
'Where are you going.'"
Fortunately, I had thought of that
sc.'Ss^fyLtr..^--^-^'^- ^--'-
^^^suggested a hotel at I^ox as suitable for such a
.y,!^'^ ^^? ^° '^^ *^ ^^-^'t «««t people whom
S^^y JS^^ ^^ ^ •^-'^^ ^ ^'^^^^^
"But I can see you in the morning before you leave?"
^^O^e^a^twasnowthatofrequest. The overtone in
"Oh, don't try to, sir. She wants to get awav from
Ss"- s;:s?ot^"^"'*-'^'*-^°'^-'°"i-^
frrl 7^' 1- , *'°* *° ^ P"""* '^l^ere she had to escaoe
from ev«yth,„g she knew and cared about; and so a^^
L sr.~lilT"^^*^y-^^ "^^ded to come wiS
PerfecUyweU. All she wants is some one to be with hei!^
2go
THE HIGH HEART
i»*OTa she knows she can trust, ae hasn't even talno
Angehque. She simply begs to be alone."
In tiie end I made my point, but only after genuine
beseechmg on his part and much repetition on mine.
Having said good-night to him— he actually used tl-xe
words— I called up Angflique, in order to bring peace to a
household in which the mistress's desertion would create
some consternation.
Angffique and I might have been called friends. The
fact that I spoke French comm um Franiaise. as she often
feittered me by saying, ^as a bond between us, and we had
the further point of sympathy that we were both devoted
to Mrs. Brokenshire. Besides that, there is something
m me-I suppose it must be a plebeian streak-which
cables me to understand servants and get along with
them.
I gave her much the same explanation as I gave to Mr
Brokenshire, though somew'. it differently put. In addi-
tion I asked her to pack such selections from the simpler
examples of Mrs. Brokenshire's wardrobe as the lady
might need in a country place, and keep them in readiness
to send. Ang^Uque having expressed her relief that Mrs
Brokenshire was safe at a known address, in the company
of a responsible attendant— a reUef which, so she said
would be shared by the housekeeper, the chef, and the
butler, all of whom had spent the evening in painful specu-
lation- we took leave of each other, with our customary
mutual compliments.
Though I was so tired by this time that fainting would
have been a solace, I caUed for a Boston paper and began
studying the advertisements of country hotels. Having
made a selection of these I consulted the manager of our
present place of refuge, who strongly commended one of
291
THE HIGH HEART
^'.fI^*^V "^^ ^ night-letter commandeeriflg the
IUydownonaccwchmMrs.Brokenshire'sn)om. Whei^
i^Tr,^" T ^^^^ ^' *°°' ^^P' '^*^""y- About once
m an hour I went sofUy to her bedside, and finding her
donng, If not sound asleep, I went softly back again
Between four and five we had a litUe scene, 'as I
approached her bed she looked up and said:
"What are we going to dr ia the morning?"
Afraid to tell her all I had put in train, I gave my ideas
m the form of suggestion. j «»
"No, I sha'n't do that," she said, quietly
She lay quite stiU, her cheek embossed on the piDow
and a great stray curl over her left shoulder. '
''Then what would you like to do?"
'■ I should hke to go straight back."
''To begin the same old life all over again?"
"To begin to see him all over again "
"Do you think that after last night you can begin to see
hmi in the same old way?" "^Jurosee
"I must see him in some way."
"But isn't the way what you've still to discover?" I
resolved on a bold stroke. "Wouldn't part of your object
m gomg away for a time be to think out some methXf
reconohng your feeling for Mr. Grainger with-with
your self-respect?"
"My selt-respect?" She looked as if she had never
heard of such a thing. "What's that got to do with it?"
ilasn t It got everything to do with it? You can't
live without it forever."
it il?° ^°" ""^ ^^ ^'^^ '^" '^'^"S without it as
"Isn't that for you to say rather than for me?"
393
THE HIGH HEART
She was sflent for a minute, after which she said, fiet-
J'^ ^^'^!^^^ '*'« very nice of you to talk to me like
that. You ve got me here at your mercy, when I might
have heea-" A long, bubbling sigh, like the aftermath
of tears, laid stress on the joys she had foregone. "He'll
never forgive me now^ -never."
"Wouldn't it be better, dear Mrs. Brokenshire," I
ask.l, to consider whether or not you can ever forrive
him?"
She raised herself on her elbow and looked at me
Seated m a low arm-chair beside her bed, in an old-rose-
colored kimono, my dark hair hanging down my back, I
was not a fascinating object of study, even in the light of
one small, distant, shaded bedroom lamp.
^'' What should I foi:give him for?— for loving me?"
"Yes, for loving you— in that way."
"He loves me — "
'So much that he could see you dishonorer! and dis-
graced—and shunned by decent people all the rest of your
hfe-just to gratify his own desires. It seems to me you
may have to forgive him for that."
_ "He asked me to do only what I would have done will-
mgly— if it hadn't been for you."
"But he asked you. The responsibility is in that.
You didn't make the suggestion; he did."
"He didn't make it till I'd let him see—"
"Too much. Forgive me for saying it, dear Mrs '
Brokenshire; but do you think a woman should ever go so
far to meet a man as you did?"
"I let him see that I loved him. I did that before I
married Mr. Brokenshire."
' ' You let him see more than that you loved him. You
'93
THE HIGH HEART
^ l.im tl«.t 3^ didn't know how to Bv. ,ritho«t
"But sinoe I didn't know how--"
oeao dependent on »njan as that" "««ia
She feU back again on her pillows.
It s easy to see you've never been in love."
I have been in love-ond am stiU; but love is not «,«
most miportant thing in the world-" ^ *^'
_^Jhen you differ from all the great teachers. Tleysay
;;if they do they're not speaking of sesual love."
..T«, *"* ^^ speaking of, then?"
They're speaking of another kind of love with wt„Vi,
^d?r "^ "^ "°*^« *° <^- I^^ilfaSS
and I know the seiuai has its olace R«t tK^ . ^
t^'s. much bigger than tit^the '4 i^S^r* S
'■ Yes, but so long as one never sees it—"
mlSTj ^ ^ "^ °^ ^^' "^bellion that loused
my spmt and made me speak in a way 5«rhich I shoddn^
otherwise have aUowed myself. > »' "™ ^ snouia not
"You do see it, darling Mrs. Brokenshire," I declared
more sweetly than I felt " Vm .»,«-_■ ~: ' ^ oeciared,
o-j... J J' ••"»" -i leic. imshowmgittoyou." Ihw
and stood over her "Who«-j„. ^/^u. irose
by but love? ^;* ^*t do yo" suppose I'm prompted
SLn^ «J^ made me step in between you and Mr.
.wSb^.rT^^''^^^y««'l»»tI<'ve? Love
y^ ^,^^! '*^'^'^'' if« action that mak^
^^TbJ.T^ "^ "*'°°' "''^ •* has to be righ"
acnon. Tljere a no love separaWe from riehf and until
^TifSy'r^'-?^ "- uSiy i-r;
™ere mg m my own person. I've no more character
894
THE HIGH HEART
ve got a wee little bM
th»n a hen. But becmise I'
an right—"
She broke in, peevishly, as she turned away:
I do wish you'd let n>e go to sleep "
I got doTO from my high horse and went back, humbly,
to my couch. Scarcdy. however, had I lain doU, w£
the voice came again, in childish complaint-
I think you might have kissed me." -
">fJ never kissed her in my life, nor had she ever shown
any «gn of permitting me this liberty. Timi^I ZS
back to the bed; timidly I bent over it. But iWS
Pr^ for the sudden intense clinging with which she
tW her ams round my neck and drew my face down
ao
CHAPTER XIX
I^?*t"^^ ^- B«'ken*it« was difficult again
^e wished to see. K^^^ £ 1^^ ^"""^ ''^°°'
be at one of the few hotX'of'^i^^ ^TZr^"
I couldn't risk a Tn<v.+,v„ tr ""^ *™ oaa the chotce,
shanie she S noStion 2"" P?^°^«°« '^e. a
failed hi«. HewSe^TorS^^r^^"^^^
wouldn't love her anv m«I ^t ' ^® °»oaned; he
to be f-/i'rrz-th''inh': SniiT "°*
the early hou« of that day^ to £ tT^I^ '^'^^
hadgone.andflinghe^ui^^f^^'"'^' 'wherever he
wl^^rmr: fZ^T ^^^ ^ «°^n we had
stonesfro.thet:th^S.^„^£S^-%-f'e-
now an outraged queen and now a fi^^tiTten^i T
Spai^g me neither tears nor leproad.^ S^J^?"*"
nor denunciations, she neveraiZffMt ^ ^^*^"^
-tly. Sitting ophite m:rS^£Jr1"n-°'^'-
papers and fashion magazines I s^.7^' f ?""*' ^^
THE HIGH HEART
beaten and trampled and enslaved. For this kind of
MOilege I had ceased, however, to be contrite. I was so
tired, and had grown so grim, that I could have led her
along m handcuffs.
• ^"^ Tl^*' ^ ^ *^' P«n. northern country the
joy of a budding and blossoming world stole into us in spite
o aU our ^ We couldn't help getting out of our own
httle round of thought when we saw fields that were car-
pets of ^n velvet, or copses of hazelnut and alder coming
mto leaf, or a farmer sowing the plowed earth with the
swmg and the stride of the Senwur. We couldn't help
seeing wider and farther and more hopefully wh an the skv
was Ml arch of silvery blue overhead, and white clouds
drifted across it, and the north into which we were travel-
mg began to fling up masses of rolling hills.
She caught me by the arm.
"Oh, do look at the lambs! Thedarlingsl'
There they were, three or four helpless creatures, shiver-
ing m the sharp May wind and apparently struck by the
futihty of a hfe which would end in nothing but making
ch^s. The ewes watched them maternally, or stood
patiently to be tugged by the full wooUy breasts After
ttat we kept our eyes open for other Uving things- for
horees and cows and calves, for Corots and Constables—
mih a difference !-on the uplands of farms or in village
highways. Once when a foal gaUoped madly away from
the train kicking up its slender hind legs, my companion
actually laughed.
When we got out at the station a robin was singing, the
first bud we had heard that year. The note was so full and
pure and Eden-like that it caught one's breath. It went
wjth the bronze-green of maples and ehns, with the golden
westenng sunshine, and with the air that was Uke the dis- '
297
THE HIGH HEART
Dri-'ing in the S^^ L"^ "T^ *^ in It.
of the town. ^ saSTtSt^Si^'SrS?.^. "^ '^
roomy Colonial dienitvT^^If . * *"*"*• *°«»««« had a
Having learned Mtto fa^ ^'' «"««inded them ail
Jam was in the^arv'taT, ?* '"" everywhere,
blossoms, in the S^^^^*^^'^"' dainty white
«°<i « the appIeS ^^yT^J" « ^''^ "^ two.
fong straight lines whicT^^ZT.^'^- J«n was in the
benies, and in the simxbb^JT ""P"^^^ strew-
then^adsideswherXS^tl™^*- J«n was along
ing bines with ^^ aK^'^ ?°*""« '*« 1»«S^
dened the waste^^'^th ftT^. "^^ ""^'^ ^^■
Jam is ? toothson^X^ryX^S^ n "^* '^•
a houseke^ing heart can te inSbte1^°M°T ^"'
did something to bring Mrs R^ u- . ^-"^^^^ °^ ''
to the simple natW^^ slJ^Sf^ ' *^°^''*^ ^^
n«ching the hot«iL '^^ ^ ^ forsworn, even before
«Sji°!iS':,^^ ^fenn-house that had
of nan.w haUs^d S^^" ^ t«ve«ed aU sorts
<^. taiatlast weet^^on^^ °^ "^'^ ^*^-
viewled us st^ght ^^SZy "^ ^'^^ '"'«« «>e
Not that it was an m^ --~~"J'-
peaceful and a noble^'TtS y^"'"'" '* ^ only a
Its folds a scattering ^^kJlT^^ ~^*^ ^^eld in
««>then: New 0^^^^%''^}°^^ of the
to the north. " Green\^„f ^hich closed the horizon
scape, melting in^'^^ ^ T^' ""' °°*^ °^ «>« land-
thesky. SpLg,rre;i!S*^-'^-ft«««
between the ridges, and a iCShTl^""" T* "^
'uauve light rested on the three
THE HIGH HEART
wWte rteeiJe* of the town. The town itm ™«4,.~ <
^«d«d feet beW « ^ . ^J^^^^
feathery bower of verdure. «»uiiii «n «
When I joined Mrs. Biokenshire she was gmsptoe the
a«*ew long breaths, like a thimy pe«on drinking, ^e
hs^ to tie «lh„g and answering of birds^ S^
Jh«nned and upturned. It was a bath of the spirrtto^
^I lLT±!r* "^^ ''•^"8: 't '«« sooting 1„^
r«tful and cottecbve. settir.g what was sane witK
thS^M^^ ^^u^^^^" ^y"""* nientiomng the fact
ttot M«. Brofcei^. i„ ^pite of herself, ente^l intoa
pmod m which her taut nerves relaxed and her o^
^b^e,notionsbeo«ne,^. itwasakLof^
.1?^ *• ^'^^t^ledandsuffemlsoS
that she was content for a time to lie still in the ev^lS
anns and be rocked and comforted. Wehadti^TiS
o^rooms; weatethesimplestoffood; weledSZSS
ofhv«. By day we read and walked and talk^TSS
and thought much; at night we slept soun^^^^ fel!
^■^ T P^'^ ''^° ^^ the same, L^ Si
proo^ with golf and moving pictures. fH^™
part tney were tired people from the neighboring to^
S'the^^^Jr"' *° ^°'' '^''^ ^'f«- Bn>ken«hire
was they respected her pnvacy, never doing woree than
'^ "^^T ^ ''''^ *« "-t^ the dilg^^r
so much that it was a joy to me to witness the revival rf
her spint, and I looked forward to seeing her r^^noJ
too reluctantly, to her husband " "*"'^' °°t
With him I had, of course, some correspondence. It
399
THE HIGH HEART
•W«." M ^iZI^- ,'^"~"K' "Dear Mr. Brol»„.
n>e„t came L^ T^ ^^L^" *?' '^'^'^'^
I adopted the ^le ifs^r/h^- ^'^^'''^ ^^^^ «>««.
teg. for I h1^ ,2,2orr '^ ^y P««*d in Writ.
acquaintance wit^t^"*'BZS.h"?*^.*°'^'^y- ^y
one. I was obliged to^e^jTo ^"^ ^^"« ^>^ « «<«t
and even to AnSique f^^ • ""^'' ^"^ ^^'^^ R°«rfter.
f- '-t. too. setCdown j5^'r,rrf' *°»p^°^-
»y company to a^invX^^ST"' "'"''°" °^
My patient n^^fe rhiTh^-f '"^ *^« '^t'
We had. in fact tJTo^ "^' ""^ *" any one.
^^ •'"*^''^««l«yortwoattheinnbefJeshe
K JTf'^'* '''"'* ^'- B«>kenshi« is thinldne?"
knew I was ^th^ pJl "^"^^ *« ''«. "^d that he
wi..T^X:e7irsS-n:^r"*"-
she listened withc^t^,^ f f ^"^^^ ^°«°«d »«.
harfer to do tCSLT^""*- - ^\ '"'^* ''^^^ ^ the
detected benei?rt?etdf^?r^r''°''=°«^'' ^
his communications. ^^^*^ '° '''^^ ^^ ""-^hed
It was this ardor, as well a<! cnmon,-
" ^^ something else, that beean
THE HIGH HEART
t-^« B«ke„ri,i« w« writing letter, on her ^
account. Coming in one day hom a .oUtanr walkl
L^ cirn."'""' fathe hall of the hotel. Af^y!
«^.^i.°'^ '^ ^^^'^ *° "« »* the office. S
r,^» K 7^- .^"^^^^K Stacy Grainger's writing
I put It back with the words: »™ang,
"Mrs Brokenshire will come for her letters henelf."
kn«^w V T^ *• ^ "^^ "t her desk, and I
S^^ T^'J"* '•fo"^"'* ^5^ ^^'^ feverishness of her
^^ ThetruceofGodbeingpast.thebattlewasnow
R,^^ ^^ °^'* given to me was on a day when Mr
Bmtemhn^ wrote in t<«ns more definite than he had «^
Z^^ ^ .'^ ^^^ '"**«• '^'^^ to her. as usual ^
S,^ '*M*"*'u*' '^''' ^"^ «»«ide«te. which had to to
admitted. Now he could deny himself no longT^/^l!
r 'S^n^l,'t""\"- ^**-- •»« ^-l^come te
appear '°* as the day on which he should
twZ^ltS"'*"' "^^^ '^'^^- "Not till after the
"But why the twenty-third?" I asked, innocently.
Because I say so. You'll see." Then feaW ao-
P«-ntly. that she had beti^yed something shf^tt
have concealed, she colored and added, l^ely.^t \m
give me a little more time." . "™«y, u wm
nn\^^ T^l- ''"* ^ P**"*"^ '"^- The aad was
no date at aU that had anything to do with us. IfT
had significance it was in plans as to which she had not
taken me into her confidence. » naa not
wh?;«!??; ''''"" ^ ^"^^ ^^ ""^« ^-J^es °i the maid
who did the rooms as to the location of the Baptist ohu«h
301
THE HIGH HEART
"W^« •rth dne. *• wMt to know th«t for?" WM th.
-tiis would be as iroliT^ir ^ ^^""^ * '^^''*^/*'"»
otirdnmi««,Md^»^"P'**"""y- How the Pluto o«
that once the «d^'±S\'^*« |° ^r. Bn>to«hi«
After that I w^SlTJ^- ' T^^ be f«e to come,
have the h«^^ tte^^J I'f "" " '^ ^ ^-^<i
time. eveniTgorthfd^ *" ^*™**' '"^ « ««»«i
I ^dn't get the chance precisely but an rt. . .
June I received a rnvsterim^^T ^ ™ '*'' °'
•«! had neither ^rr^^- " '^ ^^I^tten
aessage was simple- ^^ ""^ ''«"*t^- ^^
thi^" SoolfTe^'^^^'' r"«« « *- o'clock
«3:^:?i t"^^%?i-^i^ ^'^ p"- ^ - of
thehour. In Skt ^.-^Ti ! ^*. ** ^"^ ^"t*' bef°«
brick buildit wWr^!^*°^'*°*=~P'^*~™erof a
•Ste. I advertiseHy amtltv^f •*°''' "^ °^
hats which warrant t^^ ^ ^'^^^ * '"^P'^y of
"vest in staSr^?l!r:f'°"?^°'^g°»ginsideto
P As I was the only applicant for this
30a
THE HIGH HEART
Engliih, ain't you?" ^^
I «i*id. M usual, that I WM a Canadian
ne^edathi,ownpe«pica5r^'
Got your number, didn't I? All v™. n ,
the «ame queer way o' talldn' T^ ^?J ^"^ ''"^
fi^ojy he„.-on]/«,,y^^^o or three in the i«n-
^- SUcy GrainS^;^°S.Sy ^ ' "^ '^^■
bftrd a soft felt hat. ^ "> a gray spring suit,
•^C?ofy^*£roL:^-oryg^,^,
betterif wewallLuprTt^"- ^^'^P' -« could talk
«s^ to make it awkward fS^l"^"^ " "° ""^ *° J«°w
Walking up the stn=et he made his «™n^ ,
I had partly guessed if >-* ! ^*"'' ^lear to me.
P-ssedTfLS^r^^^?? ^« -d a word. I had
hwnbled in the way hS\^„'^**^'"« indefinably
liKhtinhisxoma^^™^^^' '^^'^ the worriea
hadtostooptowardrashfS"'''**^""'-^'^^
««ignation, and lid I iLt lee^^ ^^ '° «*«?' his
sought revenge on me He^^f ,^^ ^« '^d have
because untU gott^g 4 fot n^. f " .*?" '""^ ^^^^
^e hadn't ^own wht^lr^Totve^^;^
THE HIGH HEART
dearest to him in the world swept off the face of the earth
after she was actually tmder his protection was enough to
drive a man mad.
Having acquiesced in this, I considered it no hann to add
that if I had known the business on which I was setting
out I should have hardly dared that day to take the train
for Boston. Once on it, however, and in speech with
Mrs. Brokenshire, it had seemed that there was no other
course before me.
"Quite so," he agreed, somewhat to my surprise. "I
see that now. He's not altogether an ass, that fellow
Strangways. I've kept him with me, and little by
little—" He broke off abruptly to say: "And now the
shoe's on the other foot. That's what I wanted to tell
you."
1 walked on a few paces before getting the force of this
figiu^ of speech.
"You mean that Mrs. Brokenshire — "
"Quite so. I see you get what I'd like you to know."
He went on, brokenly: "It isn't that I don't want it my-
self as much as ever. I only see, as I didn't see before,
what it would mean to her. If I were to take her at her
word — as I must, of course, if she insists on it — "
I had to think hard while we continued to walk on be-
neath the leafing ehns, and the village people watched tjs
two as city folks.
"It's for to-morrow, isn't it ?" I asked at last.
He nodded.
"How did you know that?"
"Near the Baptist church?"
"How the deuce do you know? I motored up I; re last
week to spy out the land. That seemed to me the mcc".
practicable spot, where we should be least observed—"
304
THE HIGH HEART
mi when I said, without quite
at once and leave it all
We were still viiicE
knowing why I dii ■ so:
"Why shouldn' , you go aw:*,
tome?"
"Leave it all to you? And what would you do?"
" 1 don't know. I should have to think. I could do —
something."
"But suppose she's counting on me to come?"
"Then you would have to fail her."
"I couldn't."
" Not even if it was for her good?"
He shook his head.
"Not even if it was for her good. No one who calls
himself a gentleman — "
I couldn't help flinging him a scornful smile.
"Isn't it too late to think in terms like that? We've
come to a place where such words don't apply. The best
we can do is to get out of a difficult situation as wisely as
possible, and if you'd just go away and leave it to me — "
"She'd never forgive me. That's what I'd be afraid of."
"There's nothing to be afraid of in doing right," I de-
clared, a little sententiously. "You'll do right in going
away. The rest will take care of itself."
We came to the edge of the town, where there was a gate
leading into a pasture. Over this gate we leaned and
looked down on a valley of orchards and farms. He was
sufficiently at ease to take out a cigarette and ask my per-
mission to smoke.
"What would you say of a man who treated you like
that?" he asked, presentiy.
"It wouldn't matter what I said at first, so long as I
lived to thank him. That's what she'd do, and she'd
do it soon."
30$
THE HIGH HEART
"And in the mean time?"
ri^on't see that you need think at that. If you do
He groaned aloud.
"Oh, rightbehMged!"
"Yes, there you go. But so long as right is hanged
^g will have It aU its own way and you'll both get into
trouble. Do right now — "
"And leave her in the lurch ?"
"You wouldn't be leaving her in the lurch, because
youdbeleavmgherwithme. I know her and can tako
t»re of her. If you were just failing her and nothine
else-that would be another thing. But I'm here. U
you 11 only do whafs so obviously right, Mr. Grainger
you can trust me with the rest."
I said this firmly and with an air of competence, though.
as a matter of fact, I had no idc . of what I should havTto
do. What I wanted first was to get rid of him. Once
^Mie with her, I knew I should get some kind of iaspira-
He averted the argument to himself-he wanted her so
much, he would have to suflfer so cruelly,
"v^fl'* f°. '1"'^°° as to your suffering," I said.
YouU both have to suffer. That can be taken for
grated. We're only thinking of the way in which you'll
suffer least." jv^u
luct^** *™'" ^^ *^™tted, but slowly and re-
^ "I'm not a terribly rigorous moraUst," I went on.
irr.«? °* ^y^Pathy with Paolo and Francesca and
T^thPell&sandMaisande. But you can see for yourself
ttiat aa such instances end unhappily, and when it's
happmess you're primarily in search of—"
306
THE HIGH HEART
J ,-J — . ~'"~~'^y." he interposed, with tk« o...^
'^^^^'^^l^df-eofthesaZSinX..*^* *°^
weu, then, isn't your course clear? She'U «««.
be^happy with you if she ms the n^an J'r^^ :^
^ He withdrew his dga«tt« and look«i at me, wonder-
''Kills him? What in thunder do you mean?"
Grainger, was young. Mrs. Bn,kenshire was yo^
Wou^dn t It be better for them both to^t oTlif^Td
:;S" possibilities that I didn't cai. to ZT^^
motj^^While shaldng my hand to say g^^y h^tlS
My heart seemed to stop beating.
''He's-he's never said so to me," I managed to return
but more weaHy than I could have wishedL '
WeUhewffl. He's all right. He's not a fool I'm
talang hm: with me into some big things- so tibTt'if it^
the money you're in doubt about-" «>*!«* >f " s
I had recovered myself enough to say •
bee vL""^' °t\-* ""• ^^* ^ y°"'" « his confidence I
begyou to ask him to think no more about it I'mm
i»K^~^ practicaUy engaged-I may «J tUt I'm «
ga«:ed--to Hugh BnAwishS." ^T «»t I m ea-
307
^^'■1
THE HIGH HEART
" I see. Then you're making a mistake."
I was moving away from him by this time so that I gave
Um a little smiie.
"I£ so, the drcumstanoes are such that— that I must go
on making it."
" For God's sake don't !" he called after me.
"Oh, but I mtist," I returned, and so we went our ways.
On going back to oiu- rooms I found poor, dear little
Mrs. Brokenshire packing a small straw suit-case. She
had selected it as the only thing she could carry in her
hand to- the place of the enldvement. She was not a
packer; she was not an adept in secrecy. As I entered
her room she looked at me with the pleading, guilty eyes
of a child detected in the act of stealing sweets, and con-
fessing before he is accused.
I saw nothing, of course. I saw nothing that night. I
saw nothing the next day. Each one of her helpless, tm-
skilful moves was so plain to me that I could have wept;
but I was turning over in my mind what I could do to let
her know she was deceived. I was reproaching myself,
too, for being so treacherous a confidante. All the great
love-heroines had an attendant like me, who bewailed
and lamented the steps their mistresses were taking, and
yet lent a hand. Here I was, the nurse to this Juliet, the
Brangaene to this Isolde, but acting as a counter-agent to
all romantic schemes. I cannot say I admired mjrself;
but what was I to do?
To make a long story short I decided to do nothing.
You may scorn me, oh, reader, for that; but I came to a
place where I saw it would be vain to interfere. Even a
child must sometimes be left to fight its own battles and
stand face to face jvith its own fate ; and how much more a
married woman I It became the more evident to me that
308
THE HIGH HEART
tUs was what I could best do for Mrs. Brokenshire in pro-
portion as I watched the leaden hands and feet with which
she earned out her tasks and inferred a leaden heart A
leaden heart is bad enough, but a leaden heart offering
its^ m vain— what lesson could go home with more effect?
Dunng the forenoon of the 23d each little incident
cut me CO the quick. It was so njuve, so useless The
poor darUng thought she was outwitting me. As if she
was stealing it she stowed away her jewehy, and when
^e could no longer hide the suit-case she murmured some-
thing about articles to be cleaned at the village cleaner's
I took this with a feeble joke as to the need of economy
and when she thought she would carry down the thing^
herself I commended the impulse toward exercise. I knew
die wouldn't drive, because she didn't want a witness to
her acts. As far as I could guess the hour at which Pluto
would carry off Proserpine, it would be at five o'clock
_ And indeed about half past three I observed unusual
apis of agitation. Her door was kept closed, and from
behind it came sounds of a final opening and closing of
cupboards and drawers, after which she emerged, wearing
a dark-blue walking-suit and a hat of the ;anotiire style
with a white quill feather at one side. I stiU made no
comment, not even when the wan, wee, touching figure was
ready to set forth.
If- her first steps were artless the last was moiB arUess
still. Instead of going off casually, with an impUsd inten-
tion to come back, she took leave of me with tears and
protestations of affection. She had been harsh witb me
she confessed, and seemingly indifferent to my tender
care, but one day she might have a chance to show me how
genume was her gratitude. In this, too, I saw no more
than the commonplace, and a little after four she tripped
3'-'9
THE HIGH HEART
down the avenue, looking, with her suit-case, like a school-
girl.
I allowed her just such a handicap as her speed and mine
would have warranted. Even then I made no attempt to
overtake her. Having previously got what is called the
lay of the land, I knew how I could come to her assistance
by taking a short cut. I had hardened my heart by this
time, and whatever qualms I had felt before, I was resolved
now to spare her no drop of the wormwood that would be
for her good.
I cannot describe our respective routes without append-
ing a map, which would scarcely be worth while. It will
be enough if I say that she went round the arc of a bow
and I cut across by the string. I came thus to a slight
eminence, selected in advance, whence I could watch her
descent of the hiU by which the lower Main Street trails
oflf into the country. I could follow her, too, when she
deflected into a small cross-thoroughfare bearing the
scented name of Clover Lane, in which there were no
houses; and I should still be able to trace her course when
she emerged on the quiet country road that would take her
to her trysting-place. I had no intention to step in till I
could do it at some spot on her homeward way, and thus
spare her needless humiliation.
In Clover Lane she was within a few hundred yards of
her destination. She had only to turn a comer and she
would be in sight of the flowery mead whence she was to •
be carried oflf. It was a pretty lane, grass-grown and
overhung with lilacs in full bloom, such as you would
find on the edge of any New England town. The lilacs
shut her in from my view for a good part of the time, but
not so constantly that I couldn't be a witness to her
soul's tragedy.
310
THE HIGH HEART
Her soul's tragedy came as a surprise to me. Closelvas
^tl, J'':*,r"'r'"^^'^p"«'«^8''tJ>«i*"ebi
gan to slacken tiU at last she stopped. That she didn't
st^ because she was tired I could judge by the fact that
SSh f <^ ftock-stiU, she held the light suit-case in
her hand. I couldn't see her face, because I stood under a
great ehn, some five hundred yards away
Having paused and reflected for the space of three or
IZr" w""' f^l ''""* °" ^^°' *^* ^''^ ^«^t on more
dowly. Her hght, tripping gait had become a dragging
of lie feet. whJe I divined that she was still pondeTg'
^ It was n^lyfi,^ o'clock, she couldn't be afraid of
bemg before her time.
™-^^,' "^f ^i°PP^/E^. setting the suit-case down in the
middle of the road. She turned then and looked back
ov«- the way by which she had come, as if regretting it
Semg her open her smaU hand-bag, take out a hanler-
tf'jf ^V* "?, ^^' '^P'- 1 '^^ ^ she was repressing
one of her baby-hke sobs. My heart yearned over her!
but I could only watch her breathlessly.
She went on again-twenty paces, perhaps. Here she
down on It, her back bemg towaid me and her figure al-
most concealed by the wayside growth. I could only
wonder at what was passing in her mind. The whole
penod, of about ten minutes' duration, is filled in my
mmory with meUow afternoon light and perfumed air
and the evenmg song of birds. When the village clock
struck five she bounded up with a star..
Again she took what might have been twenty paces
and agam die came to a halt. Dropping the suit-case onc^
more, she clasped her hands as if she was praying. As, to
*' 311
THE HIGH HEART
the best of my knowledge, her prayers were confined to a
hasty evening and moming ritual in which there was
nothing more than a pious, meaningless habit, I could
surmise her present extremity. Stacy Grainger was like
agodtoher. If she renounced him now it would be an aci
of heroism of which I could hardly beUeve her capable.
But, apparently, she made up her mind that she couldn't
renounce him. If there was an answer to her prayer it was
one that prompted her to snatch up her burden again and
hurry, with a kind of skimming motion, right to the end of
the lane. It was to the end of the lane, but not to the
turning into the roadway. Once in the roadway she
would see— or she thought she would see-Stacy Grainger
and his automobile, and her fate would be sealed.
She had still a chance before hei— and from that rutted
sandy juncture, with wild roses and wild raspberries in the
hedgerows on each side, she reeled back as if she had been
struck. I can only tliink of a person blinded by a flash
of ligthning who would recoil in just that way.
For a few minutes she was hidden from my view behind
the lilacs. When I caught sight of her again she was run-
mng like a terrified bird back through Clover Lane and
toward the Main Street, which would take her home.
I met her as she was dragging herself up the hill, white,
breathless, exhausted. Pretending to take the situation
hghtly, I called as I approached:
"So you didn't leave the things."
Her answer was to drop the suit-case once again, while,
regardless of curious eyes at windows and doors, she flew
to throw herself into my arms.
She never explained; I never asked for explanations.
I was glad enough to get her back to the hotel, put her to
bed, and wait on her hand and foot. She was saved now;
31a
THE HIGH HEART
Stacy Gtainger, too. was saved. Each had deserted the
other; each had the .ame crime to forgive. From that
day onward she never spoke his name to me.
But as, that evening, I went to her bedside to say good-
m^ht she drew .ny face to hers and whispered. crypticaUy:
It wiU be all right now between yourself and Hueh.
I know how I can help. "
CHAPTER XX
^R. BROKENSHIRE arrived on the ,6th of Ju«.
Mrs. Brokenshms remained in bed. neither tired
^J?' u i T'?'?' ^^^' '^^ withdrawn. Her «oul'.
^l ^ ^^t"^^ °°* "^"^ ^^ ^<* ^J'J«'=»i"K retreat
th««^h Clover T^e. In the new phase on whi5i3
t^^^K^" "^r**"^ * '"'°^' P^^'Wy a ^e, where
tiiere had been only a lovely child of arrested development
appmg m and out of her room, attending «pnetl/to her
^te, I was able to note, as never in my life before, the
beneficent action of suffering.
and ^«itly vacated my room in favor of Mr. Bn>kenshire.
I tooked for some objection on telling her of this, but she
merely bit her Lp and said nothing. I had asked the
^^ to put me in the most distant part of the most
^!^u"^.°^ ^"^ ^°'^- '^^ ^'^^<i have stolen away
Jt^«h^t not been for fear that my poor.dearh^e
lady might need me.
As it was, I kept out of sight when Mr. Biokenshire
drov^ up with secretaiy, valet, and chauffeur, and I con-
tnved to t^e my meals at hours when there could be no
encounter between me and the great personage. If I
'"fitted I knew I could be sent for; butlhe arth
passed and no command ffl me.
314
THE HIGH HEART
Onoe or twice I got . u
began to call him— majesti
distant
noble, stouter,
njy enemy, m I
too, and walk-
«^^U« a sli^t wadie <i"^VZ7MrCJTy:
^^ ST^jSJ^' "^ "oticeablet ^
2rf^ fim few days I was =^^2^^^^"^
ab e to tell whether or not there was a change f OTtKlS
« the worse in his facial affliction 8^ lor tbe better
L, ^ ^ ^^^"^ *^* a sitting-room h^ been
^-^m connection with the tnoZLZ S
Brokenshire and I had occupied, and that husband^i
Idrew the mference that, however the soul's tiage^^^
worbag, It was with some reconciling grace that^ wH
^^^f /"" an appeal in this vain,fatu^,sufier:
^B«agnate of a co^ world's making that, in i^ite^
evwythiAg, touched the springs of pity
Jr ^ff*^*/ "^ ~°*"^* "°* to be sent for-and to
SL^* ^^'^'f "^y or two my own ^^^
«^ down and I enjoyed the delight of ha,^
nottmg on my nund. It was ertmorfinary how^
mote I could keep myself while^XTlZ nS
with my supenots. especially when they kept thm
^,'«^tl«^ their side. I had deciTed ^tht^
rf July as the date to which I should remain im«
^ no demand for my services by that time I n^
to consider myself free to go. ^^
But events were preparing, had long bee« prep«mg.
THE HIGH HEART
which changed my life as, I ntppoM, they changed to •
greater or less degree the majority of lives in the world
It was curious, too. how they arranged themselves, with
a neatness of coincidence which weaves my own oma\]
drama as a visible thread— visible to me, that i»-in the
vast tapestry of human history begun so far back as to be
time out of mind.
It was the afternoon of Monday the apth of June,
1914- Having secured a Boston morning paper, I
had carried it off to the back veranda, which was my
favonte retreat, because nobody else liked it. It was just
outside my room, and looked up into a hillside wood, where
there were birds and squirrels, and straight bronze pine-
trunks wherever the sunlight fell aslant on them. At long
intervals, too, a partridge hen came down with her little
brood, clucking her low wooden cluck and pecking at
tender shoots invisible to me. till she wandered off once
more into the hidden depths of the stillness.
But I wasn't watching for the partridge hen that after-
noon. I was thrilled by the tale of the assassination of the
Archduke Franz Ferdinand and the Duchess of Hohen-
berg, which had taken place at Sarajevo on the previous
day. Millions of other readers, who. no more than I. felt
their own destinies involved were being thrilled at the same
moment. The judgment trumpet was sounding— only
not as we had expected it. There was no blast from the
sky— no sudden troop of angels. There was only the
soundless vibration of the wire and of the Hertzian waves-
there was only the casting of type and the rattling of in-
numerable reams of paper; and. as the Bible says, the
dead could hear the voice, and they that heard it stood
still; and the nations were sununoned before the Throne
"that was set in the midst." I was summoned, with
316
THE HIGH HEART
The paper had fallen to my knee when I wa. startled to
Dn«ed entirely m white, with no color in his cosh^«^
nw «ocks, handkerchief, and tie, he would have been tt,.
f^^ *?r '^^ "^'^^"^ exquisite ha^^ n^bl
£h?of'"^e'" ^r^.^ ^ ""^ --'^ he «u1^
H^flii T^^ V^?^ '^ "^ °°* stumbled on me aai-
S^l i"^ by the way in which he liftedapLt^
^^ir^St7e-^;-rrc^S
edWfS?4"'*'''"^^^*^-'-*h-P"ft-
"Be good enough to stay where you are" he «m,
T^i^l^'^r''' "^ "« had^^« toT;
1 VB some thmgs to say to you "
Too fiightened to make a further attempt to move I
rt. The afternoon being hot. and my veranda lackine air
which was one of the reasons why it was Irft ta^f T'
-^ his brew with the violet l^^H^i,^
«. enonjious monogram was embreidered in wWtT I
JSon bu'?')^ "L*" "^ "°* °'^'y ^ his W
m^h^^ * ^™ *^ '*°*^ contortion of his face
H«hand went up to the left cheek as if to hold it in pl^"
^t^Z"^"^^'^'^'^- When,atla^,Te
^ there was a stiffness in his uttei^ioe suggestivi of
aa^^ection extending now to the Hp. or the toa^
I want you to know how much I appreciate the help
THE HIGH HEART
you've given to Mrs. Brokenshire during hei^her"- ^
had a difficulty in finding the right worti— "durii^ her
indisposition," he finished, rather weakly.
"I did no more than I was glad to do," I responded, as
weakly as he.
"Exactly; and yet I can't allow sudi timely aid to go
unrewarded."
Iwasalarmed. Grasping the arms of the chair, I braced
myself.
" If you mean money, sir — "
"No; I mean more than money." He, too, braced him-
^^- "I — I withdraw my opposition to your marriage
with my son."
The immediate change in my consciousness was in the
nature of a dissolving view. The veranda faded away,
and the hillside wood. Once more I saw the imaginary
dining-room, and myself in a smart little dinner gown
seating the guests; once more I saw the white-enameled
nursery, and myself in a lace peignoir leaning over the
bassinet. As in previous visions of the kind, Hugh was
a mere shadow in the background, secondary to the home
and the baby.
Secondary to the home and the baby was the fact that
my object was accomplished and that my enemy had come
to his knees. Indeed, I felt no particular elation from that
element in the case; no special sense of victory. Like so
many realized ambitions, it seemed a matter of course,
now that it had come. Nevertheless, it seemed to me that
for my own sake and for the sake of the future I must have
a more definite expression of surrender than he had yet
given me.
I remembered that Mrs. Brokenshire had said she would
help me, and could imagine how. I summoned up every-
318
THE HIGH HEART
thing within me that would rank as force of character
speaking quietly. "«racier,
"I diould be sorry, sir, to have you come to this dedsioa
against your better judgment."
"If you'll be kind enough to accept the fact," he said.
^^, we can leave my manner of reaching it out of the
In spite of the tone I rallied my resources.
"I don't want to be presumptuous, sir; but if I'm to
entw your family I should like to feel sure that you'll
receive me whole-heartedly."
"My dear young lady, isn't it assurance enough that
Irecaveyouatallf When I bring myself to that— "
..3' P'*^ '*°°'* ^^"^ I <»°'t appreciate the sacrifice."
Then what more is to be said ?"
"Butthesacrificeisthepoint. No girl wants to become
^ of a family which has to make such an effort to take
OCT.
Tliere was already a whisper of insecurity in his tone
Evra so, I can't see why you shouldn't let the effort be
ourafeu-. Smce we make it on our own responsibility— "
I d(»'t care anything about the responsibiHty, sir.
All I m thmkmg of is that the effort must be made."
" But what did you e:q)ect ?"
. 11 "^y?'* ^^ ^^ ^ expected anything. If I've been
of the shghtest help to Mrs. Brokenshire I'm happy to let
the service be its own reward."
"But I'm not It isn't my habit to remain under an
obligation to any one."
"Nor mine," I said, demurely.
He stared.
"What does that mean? I don't follow you."
" Perhaps not, sir; but I quite follow you. You wish me
319
THE HIGH HEART
to understand that, in spite of my deficiencies, yoa accept
me as your son's wife— for the reason that you can't help
yourself."
Two sharp hectic spots came out on each cheek-bone.
"Well, what if I do?"
"I'm far too generous to put you in that position. I
•/couldn't take you at a disadvantage, not even for the sake
of marrying Hugh."
I was not sure whether he was frightened or angry, but
it was the one or the other.
"Do you mean to say that, now— now that I'm
ready—"
"That I'm not? Yes, sir. That's what I do mean to
-say. I told you once that if I loved a man I shouldn't stop
to consider the wishes of his relatives; but I've repented of
that. I see now that marriage has a wider application
than merely to individuals ; and I'm not ready to enter any
family that doesn't want me."
I looked aS into the golden dimnesses of the hillside
wood ia order not to be a witness of the struggle he was
making.
"And suppose" — it was almost a groan — ^"and suppose
I said we — wanted you?"
It was like bending an iron bar; but I gave my strength
to it.
"You'd have to say it differently from that, sir."
, He spoke hoarsely.
" Differently— in what sense?"
I knew I had him, as Hugh would have expressed it,
where I had been trying to get him.
" In the sense that if you want me you must ask me."
He mopped his brow once more.
"I — ^I have asked you."
jao
THE HIGH HEART
not Xl'^" ''" ""^"^ ^ ''«^*^- ^*'*
^^eads of per^iration were again standiiig on his fore-
"Then what— what would be— enough '"
A woman can't marry any one unless she does it as.
somethmg of a favor. " !«>e aoes ii as-
He drew himself up.
"Do you remember that you're talking to me'"
to in«^; ^iJ^^u '^'^^"^ I do remember it that I have
to^msist. W.th anybody else I shouldn't ha-^ to be sa
If trtif * r^"^ ^f^eele. and this time I watched him.
K his wife had made the conditions I guessed at I had
no^gtodobutsitstin. Grasping the^SS; 2?
he hatf rose as rf to continue the interview no furtherbS
^ediate y saw as I inferred, what that woiS^SJt
to^ He fell back again into the creaking depths of the
'"What do you wish me to say?"
But his staicken aspect touched me. Now that he
UZ"^ J° come to his knees. I had no hear^
to force him down on them. Since I had gained mv
Ethiopian change his skin.
T ,"°^=:,T ^'^^^ ^^ '*'"^ *=^^' ^^ sudden emotion
I leaned toward him. clasping my hands. "I ^ you do
want me; and smce you do I'll— I'll come "
th^t^ Tf^J^f *»»«^°n. I becanie humble and
thankful and tactful. I appeased him by saying I w^
thought tiiat he was to be reconciled with Hu^ • and I
mqmredforMrs.Brokenshire. Leading up to'^ ^tJ
321
THE HIGH HEART
tion with an air of guilelessness, I got the axmret<t wu
watching for in the ashen shade that settled on his face
I fot:get what he repUed; I was reaUy not Mstening I
was calling up the scene in which she must have fulfilled
her promise of helping Hugh and me. Prom the some-
thmg crushed in him, as in the case of a man who knows the
worst at last, I gathered that she had made a dean breast
ofjt. It was awesome to think that behind this immacu-
late white swt with its violet details, behind this pink of
the old beau, behind this moneyed authority and this
power of dictation to which even the mighty sometimes
had to bow, there was a broken heart.
He knew now that the bird he had captured was nothine
but a captured bird, and always longing for the forest
That his wife was wiUing to bear his name and hve in his
house and submit to his embraces was largely because I
had induced her. Whether or not, in spite of his pompous-
ness, he was grateful to me I didn't know; bttt I guessed
that he was not. He could accept such benefits as I had
K«ured him and yet be resentful toward the curious provi-
dOTce that had chosen me in particular as its instrument
l came out of my meditations in time to hear him sa>
that,Mrs.Brokenshire being as well rested as she was, there
would be no further hindrance to their proceeding soon
to Newport.
, "And I suppose I might go back to my home," I ob-
Ijserved, with no other than the best intentions.
He made an attempt to r^iain the authority he had just
lOTieited.
"What for?"
"To be married," I acplained-" since I am to be
married."
" But why should you be married there ?"
332
THE HIGH HEART
^•^Wouldn't it be the most natural thing?"
It wouldn't be the most natural thing for Hugh."
A man can be married anywhere; whereas a wnn,p„
?W : ^T"^"* ^ her Z neeijs a^'^'
me effort at a faint smile drew ud the mrr-^, „* i.-
mouth and set his face awiy. ^ "^" °^ '^'
"You'll excuse me, my dear"— the onifhof ~ j
jumo— "if T nnrr^M ™ . epithet made me
jump u 1 correct you on a noint of test/, t- », •
SeT ""^^^ ^'^'^ "-y m lis mStS
the hne at anythmg like parade."
I know my eyebrows went up.
"Parade? Parade— how?"
The painful Httle smile persisted
J7^^^^^ .^°°^' ''^^ *«y ^^t to war had a
custom of brmging back the most conspicuouHf X^
T^riS°^^*^-^^«-^^^*«^2-^
"OhI I understand. But vou scp «iV +»,.> _,
doe^'tholdinthiscase.b^rnoTe'oT; ffSfS^
l^-a^^^moreaboutHughthanthefLt"^;^';^
The crooted featmies went back into repose.
iney d know he was my son."
I continued to smile, but sweetly
sonS'i!^' '\f . T""^ *^* '^^ ^^ somebody's
You d be quite safe so far as that went. Though I do^t
hve many hundreds of miles fi«n New York^Sd weL
fairly avihzed, I had never so much as heard Cna^e S
Brokenshire till Mrs. Rossiter told me it^ hL^ °^
^Z^:r^ Yousee.then.thatthere'db:^^^
ofmyleadmgacaptiveintrimnph. Noonelknowwo^
323
THE HIGH HEART
give Hugh a second thought beyond being nioe to ItomMi
IvasmanTing." — — —
That he was pleased with this etplanation I cwaot
affinn, but he passed it over.
"I think," was his way of reqwnding, "that it will be
better if we consider that you belong to us. Till your
niamage to Hugh, which I suppose will take place in the
autunm, youTl come back with us to Newport. There
wll be a whole new— how shall I put it?-a whole new
phase of life for you to get used to. Hugh will stay with
us, and I shaU ask my daughter, Mrs. Rossitcr. to be your
hostess till — "
As, without finishing his sentence, he rose I foUowed his
^ple. Though knowing in advance how futile would
be fte attempt to present myself as an equal, I couldn't
submit to this cahn disposition of my Hberty and person
without putting up a fight.
•'I've a great preference, sir-if you^U aUow me-tor
bemg married in my own home, among my own people
and m the old parish church in which I was baptized. I
«aUy have people and a background; and it's possible
that my sisters might come ovei^-"
Tie hand went up; his tone put an end to discussion
I thmk, my dear Alexandra, that we shaU do best in
considermg that you belong to vs. You'll need time to
grow accustomed to your new situation. A step back-
ward now might be perilous."
My fight was ended. What could I do? I listened and
submitted, while he went on to tell me that Mrs. Broken-
shire would wish to see me during tiie day, that Hugh
would be sent for and would probably arrive tiie next after-
Boon, and tiiat by the end of the week we should all be
settled m Newport. There, whenever I felt I needed in-
324
THE HIGH HEART
rtruction, r was not to be ashamed to ask for it M«i
I ^dn t understand, and he knew I c»uld count on i^
Brokenshire's protection. ^^
anSiS^"'"^ ^*^ ^ ^"-J --1 «y pride
As for Mre. Brokenshire's protection, that was settled
young women do when their emotions outnm their rx^Z
ofexpiession. She caUed me Mix and begged me t^to^
a name for her that would combine the Sty ofB^^,
^oth^withourstandingasfriend,. Tlo^SSSi
SghLd M^'^'^res. with which she wa^
„ofi ^^ °^-^ *°^« '^'^ *•>«» that evening, nomi-
n^ybecauselwas too upset by alllhad lived thLX>
bear the tho^ht of Mr. Brokenshire calling me his dear
Al«andrat^cem the same day. Once L mSe^
blood nm cold. His method of shriveling up a nai^Z
^y pronounang it is something t_^t trLcends Z
CZrJ,T"^i, HehadruinedthatofAdarewithJ
^. and now he was completing my confusion at being
cafled after so lovely a creature as our queen. IW
always admitted that, with its stately. r^^Jj^
Alexandra ^ no symbol for a plain Vi^U^S^-
but when Mr. Brokenshire took it on his Hps and LT^'
meh«dearIcouldhav«criedoutformeroy. SoIhS^S
t^M\'"r^i"^'^^ '^owly^n^taSg'^
what Mr. Brokenshire described as "my new situation "
I was meditatmg on it still when, in the com* of the
foUowmg afternoon, I was sitting in a retired grove 3 S^
3^5
THE HIGH HEART
Ulliide wood waitinc for Hugh to oome and find me. He
was to airive about three and Miladi was to tell himwhete
Iwaa. In our crowded little inn,with its crowded giounda,
nooks of privacy were rare.
I had taken the Boston paper with me in ortler to get
further details of the tragedy of Sarajevo. These I foond
absorbing. They wove themselves in with my thoughts of
Hugh and my dreams of our life together. An artide on
Serbia, which I had found in an old magazine that morn-
ing, had given me, too, an understanding of the situation
I hadn't had before. Up to that day Serbia had been but
a name to me; now I began to see its significance. The
story of this brave, patient little people, with its one
idea— an idSefixe of libertjr— began to move me.
Of all the races of Europe the Serbian impressed me as
the one that had been most constantly thwarted in its
natural ambitions— struck down whenever it attempted to
rise. Its patriotic hopes had always been inconvenient
to some other nation's patiiotic hopes, and so had to be
blasted systematically. England, France, Austria, Tur-
key, Italy, and Russia had taken part at various times in
this circumvention, denying the fruits of victory after
they had been won. Serbia had been the poor little
bastard brothe- of Europe, kept out of the inheritance
of justice and freedom and commerce when others were
admitted to a share. For some of them there might
have been no great share; but for little Serbia there was
none.
It was terrible to me that such wrong could go on,
generation after generation, and that there should be no
Nemesis. In a measure it contradicted my theory of
right. I didn't want any one to suffer, but I asked why
there had been no suffering. Of the nations that had
326
THE HIGH HEART
»«nh«d h« and kept her dismembered
Pro»P«ww. Prom Serbia's point
of
dis-
most were
thelp
' view I couldn't
-j^t^^^u^S wiin the hand that had struck down at
«™pcact mere could be no adequate revenge for centuries
n^,„7^ ^ committed, nations should sin and be Jm-
™~*^ ^ '*"* °^ ^^^ ae^st the influences
arwais. Perhaps I was only clutching at whatever T
^.r:!"""^^ -<l-tlaastIcould4^T^S^J
ae was brave and generous, and where there was ini^tirfi
^^t would be among th, fim to be sS^'bT"
^tas stocky figure movmg lower down among the pine
I caught sight of him long before he discovered me, and
couJd make my notes upon him. I could even make mv
notes ui«n myself, not whoUy with my own^pZ^ "^
^toobusmess-Iike.tooc»ol. ThenTwas noCgTpoJ
qmdcened heart-throb. I would have given it the m^
3»7
THE HIGH HEART
when I nw Hnfh't pinched face and the furbU»<l*n
spring suit he had worn the year before "" '"""•^'"P
It was not the fact that he had won, it the year before
that gave me a pang; it was that he must have wcmit
!rf *°.'*,''°rtJ» noticmg. But anything not plainly
opulent m Hugh smote me with a sensed g,dlt. It 3
l^easJybeattributedtomyfault. Icoul^eaJL^
^r^iJ*^'**^"''"'"^"- I-idashe^
P«>«ched: "Th« man has sufiered. He has suffered^
myacc«mt. All my life must be given to mald,^ ^
ImakenoaitempttoteUhowwemet. It was much as
TpSto ll"" ^f. *^*^°"- '«'*P* that S^
2fw !l ' ^ ^^ '^^ ^^ ™« '" Ws anns it was
^1 !J*rT^ °^ possession which had never hitherto
belonged to hm, There was nothing for me but to let
myself go, and lie back in his embiace
I <^e to myself, as it were, on hearing him whisper,
with his face close to mine: ""i^r.
_ J You witch! Youwitcht How did you ever manage
I made the necessity for giving him an explanation the
excuse for working myself free. ^^
"I didn't
nwaageit. It was Mrs. Biofcenahire,"
He cried out. incredulously
"Oh no I Not the madam!"
"Yes, Hugh. Tt was she. She asked him. s
have begged him. That's all I can tell you about
He was even more incredulous.
"Then it must have been on your account rather than
onmiae; you can bet your sweet life on that!"
3»8
She must
it."
THE HIGH HEART
"Httgh, darlinj;, die's fond of you. She's fond of v».
•n. If you could only have-" »«> • «»<I of you
"We couldn't." Fte the first tfaae he showed siena of
"toittmg me into the family ««,« of disg^ce^^Tt™
ever hear how dad came to narry her r^ ^
J S^hf ** T"!^*^^ '^ ««*«• ««' «»>t «>« ~«Jdn't
put the blame for that on her.
t,-"/"i'' *'!*'* ''^ ™<« PuM with him than we've had "
he declared res^tfully. "You can see that Tyle way
he s given m to her on this— " "j- we way
a J^lirr *'' P°'""*' ''°^'^' ^-J we talked of
LEf '^*?°::- ^«»» *at we went on to the
wbject of our mamed life, of which his father in tt!
. hasty .nter..-,ew of half a,, hour before, had brieflyirtcS
Sr """i'xr; ^ P'^ '^ *° '^ f°""d for Hugh fnIS
house of Meek & Bn.kenshii«; his allowance 7as to hi
nused to hvelve or fifteen thousand a ye^ wlwc:^ S
S? ^-^fl!"' **'' ^'^«' «• f" «= Hugh could W
but It nught be m October. We should bf granted S
haps a three months' trip abroad with a «^u,r!^^^
York before Christmas. " "°™^' '""^ " «t^ to New
He gave me these details with an excitement besoeakin^
mire^S^'". It— sytoseethat/afS^'
moffl^ rebelhon, he was eager to put his head under ^o
tolSr^T'^f^ His instinct in tl^^sLt
tnemseh-^free. I could best compare him to a horse who
or one glorious half-hour kicks up his heek ^T^^
^afest ^hereof blessedness. Under the Brokenshire yoke
c;S't^:;.lT;^ S^^-^ -°^ ^^-welS
v/uoouu a year, witnout that onerous responsi-
3»9
THE HIGH HEART
Ja^^l^^ *° ^J'' tfc« "rt «rf our liv«. little AM,
wmbeto get away with our thousand doll«« a month I
guess we can do that— what? W» .h.v* """"■• *
■ave becau» )« tt./ J^ . "*■"»" t even have to
■aye^oecause in the natural course of events-" He Wf
tt«. reference to his father's demise to go «^^ hi. h J^n
of self-congratulation. "But we've -^1^ VZtu .
vn? xir.N^ J ^i . . ^ pttuea it off, haven t
eudd Jy <^r^,M ^ """ *° ''«*P you" He asked,
wS? rd ^iJTv^ you. come to know the madam sc^
weuf I d never had a hint of Jf v~. j "~*">^ «»
things awful doser*- Y«> *> ke*P some
I made my answer as truthful as I could,
nus was nothing I could tell vou W«»i, xr
IJtWhi,. was sorry for me ever^ce'^t ^f in ^el^I
port. She never dared to say anything aboutrt^!!
iahersle^^^ ^°^ to me hke a woman walking
thll^l'^^P"*^- She's beginning to understand
330
THE HIGH HEART
1^ ^ -k ^ ^ ^.tain;^ j^jSK
We discussed this theme in its various aspects while th-
•fternoon light tu^ed the pine tnmksT^d tf into
ojunu« of «d.goId, and a soft wind soothed ^ S^
b«Wc«nells. Bi«l. flitted and fluted overhe^,l^d
n^«d then, a squte*! darted up to chaUenge us witktte
^?t '^r^"^^"^ »^ ««le nose. I chose what I
thought a favorable moment to bring before Hueh tte
matter that had been so summarily shflved^ SXt£
I wilted «, much to be married among my oro n^^
aadfrom what Icxmld call my own home ^ '^'•'
as child-like. ■B^de^part, amaU blue eyes leganJed me
withgrowtngastonishmentaslmademy^ntl^
For Heaven's sake, my sweet litUe Alix what rf«
you want that for? Why. we can be ma^S fa^W
^^emphads on the word Newport was as if he had said
noZTto ml^ "^' "'^' '^^' N<-I«rt means
" It will jolly well have to if—"
"^^.'^r^°^^r^'>^<^<^lot. Ifyouweremamane'
^l^^:^"^ ^•'^ certainly go to Gold^^
"Ah. but that would be differenti"
" Different in what way?"
He colored, and grew confused.
"Well, don't you see?"
331
THE HIGH HEART
"No; I'm afraid I don't."
"Oh y«, you do. Kttle Alix," he smiled, cajdiaifly.
bang-up weddmgs, as it is. Of course we caa't-«ad we
fr. 7^* '*• ^"* *^'y'" "^^ *« 'l«=«t tWng by us. now
that dad has oome round at all. and let people L Lt S
3^ came from-Hahfax. or whe«vBr it is-it would put
us^ack ten years with the people we want to keep up
I .ubnutted ^. because I didn't know what else to
da I submitted, and yet with a rage which was the hotter
Sn^^.w^'T^ ^"^ P^'* ""^^ 't «> ^y for
C^r^ ^ ''° P^"^*' '^ '^ «°'^««1 to none.
»7^ 7^^ """ °° """^ ^ *•>* ''^y <^ antecedents than
tf I h^ be«n a new creation on the day when I first met
^of birth as firmly as if they had been minor (in
^ties My maxnage to Hugh might be valid in the
q« of the law. but to them it would always be more or
tes inoiganatic. I could only be Duchess of Hohenbeix
to this yomig prmce; and perhaps not even that^^e
w« noble-a&Z. as they call it-at the least; while I was
Mwdy a nursemaid.
But I made another grimace-and swallowed it I
could have broken out with some vicious remark, which
would have bewildered pcK,r Hugh beyond express^o^^l
made no change m his point of view. Even if it re-
Leved my pent-up bitterness, it would have left me
•S?^. wl'""'"^'^' ^^' ^« I was to many him.
^ydisturb the peace? And I owed him too muZot t<^
many hm.: of ttat I was convinced. He had been kind
to me from the first day he knew me; he had been tme to
332
THE HIGH HEART
me in ways in which few men would have been true To
go bade on him now would not be simply a chanw at
nuad; It would be an act of cruel tr^^ery^ J
SLI^^-^° ''°*^ b"t 80 oa with it. My d;bt
could not be paid m any other way. Besides. I d^ued
to my^ w.th a catch in the thrt«t, I-I W toTl
hadsaid It so many times that it must be true
for tte httle dmner at which I was to be included Ttihe
He looked at me with the mild wondering whidi alwars
made his expression vacuous. ^
"Isn't what terrible.?"
''Why, the assassinations in Bosnia."
"OhI I saw there had been something"
«l^^!i ^ "'^- "^^'^ ""^ "^ *« «««t moment-
pus ttmgs that have ever happened in history "
What makes you say that?" he inquired, turning on
tered between the pine trunks
^^ to admit that I didn't know. I only fdt it in my
. tI,^!i!S,Mr*^T-"''^'^.'^°^^ something of the sort down
thw-kilhng kmgs and queens, or something?"
Oh. not like this!" I paused. "You know, Hugh,
'' Is it ?" He took out a dgarette and Ht it
In the ardor of my sympathy I poured out on him some
of the information I had just acquired.
333
THE HIGH HEART
"And we're all responsible," I was finisMng; "Boyish,
French, Russians, Austrians — "
"We're not responsible— we Americans," he broke in,
quietly
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. If you inherit the
civilization of the races from which you spring you inherit
some of their crimes; ai^d you've got to pay for them."
'Not on your lifel" he laughed, easily; but in the lau^
there was something that cut me more deeply than he
knew.
CHAPTER XXI
gUT once ws w«ie settled in Newport. I almost foi^ot
rZ ^A T^X "^S^J^'"- The world, it seem^to
S^n^J^^ '*■ *°°= '* ^ P«^ *at° history.
ft^ Ferdinand and Sophie Chotek being dead and
ouned. we had gone on to something else
Personally I had gone on to the readjtostment of my life.
IwaswithEthelRossiterasaguest. Guest or retainer,
however, made httle difference. She treated me just a^
More— with the same detached. Uve-and-let-Uve Idnd-
hness that dropped into the old habit of making use of me
Ihkedthat. It kept us on a simple, natural footing. I
could see myself writing her notes and answering her tele-
phone rails as long as I lived. Except that now and then
when die thought of it, she called me Alix, instead of
Miss Adare. she might still have been paying me so much a
month.
"WeU. I can't get over father," was the burden of her
congratulations to me. "I knew that woman could turn
him round her finger; but I didn't suppose she could do it
^ that. You played your cards well in getting hold of
"I didn't play my cards," was my usual defense, "be-
cause I had n me to play."
"T^ien what on earth brought her over to your side?"
Life."
335
THE HIGH HEART
"Life— fiddlesticks! It was life with a good deal of hdp
tram Alix Adaie." She added, on one occasion: "Why
didn't you take that young Strangways— frankly, now?"
"Becaijse," I smiled, "I don't believe in polyandry."
"But you're fond of him. That's what beats me!
You're fond of one man and you're marrying another; and
yet—"
I don't know what color I turned outwardly, but within
Iwasfire. It was the fire of confusion and not of indigna-
tion. I felt it safest to let her go on, hazarding no i«marks
of my own.
"And yet-^what?"
"And yet you don't seem like a girl who'd marry for
moneys— you really don't. That's one thing about you."
I screwed up a wan smile.
"Thanks."
"So that I'm all in the dark. What you can see in
Hugh— "
" What I can see in Hugh is the kindest of men. That's
a good deal to say of any one."
"Well, 111 be hanged if I'd marry even the kindest of
mta if it was for nothing but his kindness. "
The Jack Brokenshires were jovially non-committal,
letting it go at that. In offering the necessary good wishes
Jade contented himself with calling me a sly one; while
Pauline, who was mannish and horsey, wrung my hand till
she almost pulled it off, remarking that in a family like the
Brokenshires the natural principle was. The more, the
merrier. Acting, doubtless, on a hint from higher up, they
included Hugh and me in a luncheon to some twenty of
their cronies, whose shibboleths I didn't understand and
among whom I was lost.
As far as I went into general society it was so unobtni-
336
THE HIGH HEART
aively that I might be said not to have gone at all I mad.
To tr*": r ^^^"^"^ bride of ^ugh iLij
To the great fact of my engagement few^eople pdd^v
oTfSn"? I^°" "'° "'^ *° '* didTwitTtSe^
offorgettingjtthemmuteafterwarf. It came to me with
^e pam that in his own circle Hugh was ..gaSed mS
orless as a nonentity. Iwasa"queerCanadL." Ne^
port prated to me a harf, polished exterior, like a porl
ImwaU. It was too high to climb over and taffoX^
nooks ^aevices in which I might find a niche. Sfo^e
-goffered me the sUghtest hint of inciviUty-or of"!
jyVT''^.^^'"^ ^ °^'^ *° do and to think of "
Mrs. Brokenshire explained to me. "They know too
many people abeady. Their Uves are too ^IMon^
ofit.Qmet good bieedmg isn't strikingenough. Clever-
scandals outs.de their own close corporation. All Z
s^"~l waited while she fonnXSfher opSo^
Z^.^'^^Zr ^f^^^-^ America at ia^
we had the right sort of women."
"And haven't you?"
fr^^:J^ '"°^^ are-how shaU I say?-too amall-
toopawch^-too provincial. They've no national out-
look; they ve no authority. Pew of them know how to
use money or to hold high positions. Our men Zl?
e^ turn to them for advice on important things, becaui
they've rarely any to give." "^gs, oecause
^ZZ^^^^^^ "^ ""^ more of the reflecting
SS^: '^"^^^''^°^•'^^^^''^-
337
THE HIGH HEART
" Then, couldn't you show them how i"
She shook her head.
"No; I'm an American, like the rest. It isn't in me.
It's both personal and national. Cissie Bosoobel could do
it— not because she's clever or has had experience, but
because the tradition is there. We'\'e no tradition."
The traditioa in Cissie Boscobel became evident on a
day in July when she came to sit beside me in the ground<i
(tf the Casino. I had gone with Mrs. Rossiter, with whom
I had been watching the tennis. When she drifted away
with a group of her friends I was left alone. It was then
that Lady Cecilia, in tennis things, with her racket in her
hand, came across the grass to me. She moved with the
^lendid careless freedom of women who pass their lives
outdoors and yet are trained to drawing-rooms.
She didn't go to her point at once; she was, in fact, a
mistress of the introductory. The visits she had made and
the people she had met since our last meeting were the
theme of her remarks; and now she was staying with the
Burkes. She would remain with them for a month, after
which she had two or three places to go to on Long Island
and in the Catskills. She would have to be at Strath-na-
Cloid in September, for the wedding of her sister Janet
and the young man in the Inverness Rangers, who would
then have got home from India. She would be sorry to
leave. She adored America. Americans were such fun.
Their houses were so fresh and new. She doted on the
multipHcity of bathrooms. It would be so horrid to live
at Strath-na-Cloid or Dillingham Hall after the cheeriness
of Mrs. Burke's or Mrs. Rossiter's.
Screwing up her greenish cat-like eyes till they were no
more than tiny slits with a laugh in them, she said, with
her delidously incisive utterance:
338
THE HIGH HEART
"So you've done it, haven't you?"
''You njean that Mr. Broken«hire has come round."
thiZT T'^^. ««»« to me the most wonderful
thmgleverheardofi It's like a mi«de, isn't it? Y^
iS'lSt^t'T^'^^'^r'*^-" SheleanL^J
^^t^ fem ^ds g«spmg the racket that lay aoxjss
T^« splendid! You're not a bit like a Colonial, are
Since she meant well, I mastered my indignation.
pr^J^e'^'-' ^•--^'^^- Colonial, and very
'* Fancy ! And are all Colonials like you ?"
|AU that aren't a great deal cleverer and better "
Fancy!" she breathed again. "ImustteU them when
L'TiT; ,^^y'l°"'t'-o-it.youknow." Shfad"^
in a sligh .Aange of key: "I'm so glad Hugh is going to
have a wife like you." ^ ^
Jl 7%°^-?^ *°°f"* *° ^^y' ""^'^ be much better off
wiUi a wife hke you"; but I made it:
"What do you think it will do for him?"
i J^!r" '"^^ ^,°"*- ""«'> '^ 'P^^^^ in Ws way-
3^^_you ar^-<«ly he needs bringing out. don't you
I h!JI!^"X^'^^ ^"^^^ °"* in the last ten months,"
1 decl^, ,„th some emphasis. "See what he's done-"
^^/^i.y%}^^^'^P^iioe,mb^i You managed
that. You 11 manage a lot of other things for hinC^
I m^ go back to aie other.." she continued, getting u"'
They re waitmg for me to make up the set. But I
w^ted toteU you I'm-I-m glad-with^out-withoutly
— any reserves. " -^
I think there were tears in her nanow eyes, as I know
339
THE HIGH HEART
thne were in my own; bat she be«t mich a hacty retrett
that I ooald not be very sure of it.
MiMredBrokeoshirewasasttrprisetome. Ihadhafdty
ever seen her till she sent for me in order to talk about
Hugh. I found her lying on a couch in a dim comer of her
big, massively furnished room, her face no more than a
white pain-pinched spot in the obscurity. After having
kissed me she made me sit at a distance, nominally to
get the breeze through an open window, but really that I
might not have to look at her.
In an unnaturally hollow, tragic vcnce she said it was a
pleasure to her that Hugh should have got at last the wom-
an he loved, especially after having made sudi a fight for
her. Though she didn't know me, she was sure I had fine
qualities; otherwise Hugh would not have cared for me as
he did. He was a dear boy, and a good wife could make
mudi of him. He lacked initiative in the way that was
unfortunately common among rich men's sons, especially
in America; but the past winter had shown that he was
not deficient in doggedness. She wondered if I loved him
as much as he loved me.
There was that in this suffering woman, so far with-
drawn from our struggles in the world outside, whidi
prompted me to be as truthful as the circumstances reo-
dered possible.
"I love him enough, dear Miss Brokenshire," I said,
with some emotion, "to be eager ti give my life to the
object of making him happy."
She accepted this in silence. At least it was silence for
a time, after which she said, in measured, organ-like tones:
"We can't nr.j^ other people happy, you know. We
can only do our duty — and let their happiness take care
of itself. They must make themselves happy! It's a
340
THE HIGH HEART
J««ri^. Wliea we do right other people must fflZ
toe best they can of it" • "Mt^o
th^it 8 sometimes so hard to tea what is right"
it ^^^r? f^ !? ^**^ "^ *"'=°"*- The voice, when
rt«me out of the dunness. might have been that of the
PJrthianviipn oracle. The utterances I give were not
^^ consecutively, but in answer to qu^^ Z
observations of my own.
••Right, on the whole, is what we've been impeUed to do
When we ve been conscientiously seeking the best way
fri.^'^ ***** "^' °^'^° contradictory and bewildering
f^. and cany ta to a certain act. or to a certain line of
^.J^ ''^' *^'°: ^ ^'^^'^ D°°'t go back.
Dm t torture yourself with questionings. Don't dig up
what has already been done. That's done! Nottune
^teke m It hfe jWU take can* of it. . . . Lifefa not a
bhndnnpulseworkmg blindly. It's a beneficent. «ctify-
K. fZ";. Y'Jy'^'';. ^''' " P«P«*^ enfolding.
It s a &e that ubhzes as fuel everything that's cast into
pwssioothat shedidn'thkemeorthat she didn't trust me
id«that th« Brokenahiro seeress, this suffering priestess
whose whole hf e was to Ue on a couch and think, and think
and think, had reserves in her consciousness on my account
waspamful. I said so to Hugh that evening
Ot, you mustn't take Mildred's gassing too seriously"
he adv^d. "Gets a lot of ideas in her head; but-pL
thing-^hat else can she do? Since she doesn't Imow
341
THE HIGH HEART
anything about real life, ahe just spins theories on the
subject. Whatever you wsat to know, little Alk m
tell you."
"Thanks," I said, dryly, exidaining the shiver which nm
through me by the fact that we were sitting in the loggia,
in the open air.
"Then we'll go in."
"No, no!" I protested. "I like it much better o«t
here."
But he was on his feet.
"We'll go in. I can't have my sweet little Alix taking
cold. I'm here to protect her. She must do what I tell
her. We'll go in."
And we went ia. It was one of the things I was learn-
ing, that my kind Hugh would kill me with kindness. It
was part of his way of taking possession. If he could help
it he wouldn't leave me for an hour unwatched; nor would
he let me lift a hand.
"There are servants to do that," he would say. "It's
one of the things little Alix will have to get accustomed
to."
"I can't get accustomed to doing nothing, Hugh."
"You'll have plenty to do in having a good time."
"Oh, but I must have more than that in life."
" In your old life, perhaps; but everything is to be dif-
ferent now. Don't be afraid, little AUx ; you'll learn."
^ "Learn what? It seems to me you're taking the pos-
sibility of ever learning anything away . "
This was a joke. Over it he laughed heartily.
"You won't know yourself, Uttle Alix, when I've had
you for a year."
Mr. Brokenshire's compliments to me were in a similar
vein. He seemed always to be in search of the superior
34a
THE HIGH HEART
poBtion he had lo8t on the day we lat looking up into the
hiltedewood. Hi. dear Alexandra must ne4foS?te
w«ame^ence. In being rai«d to a higher lev^wa.
to watch the manner, of thoee about me. I was to coov
them as pe^le learning French or Italian try to cat<im
acc«it which IS not that of their mother tongue. They
probab y do :t badly; but that is better than not d^
rtataU I«wldneverbeanEthelRossiteroraI>ais;
Burke, but I could become an imitation. Imitations S
to the house of Bi kenshiie like paste diamonds or^
gluepearls my gratitudeforthe effort they made in accept-
mg me had to be the more humble.
And yet on occasions I tried to get justice for myself.
Im not altogether without knowledge of the world,
Mr. Brokenshire." I said, after one of his kindly, condel
sc«,ding lectures. "Not only in Canada, but in England
a^to some shght extent abroad. I've had opportuni^
"Yes, yes; but this is diflEerent. You've had op-
Portamfaes as you say. But the« you were looldng
on from the outside, while here you'U be Hving from
witnin.
"Oh. but I wasn't looking on from the outside—"
His hand went up ; his pitiful crooked smile was meant
to express tolerance. " You'U pardon me. my dear; but
we gam nothing by discussing that point. You'U see
It yourself when you've been one of us a Kttle longer
Me^tane. if you watch the women about you and stuj
We left it there. I always left it there. Butldidberin
to see that there was a difference between me andtte
women whom Hugh and his father wished me to take as
my models. I had hitherto not observed this variation m
'3 343
THE HIGH HEART
*yi*— I ""Sht poMibly ddl it this diirtinction between
Mtional idealt— during my two yean under the Stan and
Stripes; and I find a difBculty in expressing it, for the rea-
son that to anything I say so nuuiy exceptions can be
made. The immense dass of wage-earning women would
be exceptions; mothers and housekeepers would again be
exceptions; exceptions would be all women engaged in
political or social or phiknthropic service to the country;
but when this allowance has been made there still remain
a multitude of American women economically independ-
ent, satisfied to be an incubus on the land. They diess,
they entertain, they go to entertainments, they live graced
fully. When they can't help it they bear children; but
they bear as few as possible. Otherwise they are not
much more than pleasing forms of vegetation, idle of
body and mind; and the American man, as a rule, loves
to have it so.
"The American man," Mrs. Rossiter had said to me
once, "likes figurines." Hugh was a rebel to that doc-
trine, she had added then; but his rebeUion had been short-
lived. He had come back to the standard of his country,
men. He had chosen me, he used to say, because I was a
woman of whom a Socialist might make Us star; and now
I was to be put in a vitrine.
Canadian women, as a class, are not made for the vitrine.
Their instinct is to be workers in the world and mates for
men. They have no very high opinion of their privileges;
they are not self-analytical. They rarely think of them-
selves as the birds and flowers of the human race, or as
other than creatures to put their shoulders to the wheel
in the ways of which God made them mistresses. Not
ashamed to know how to bake and brew and mend and sew,
they rule the house with a practically French economy.
344
THE HIGH HEART
is bw«^ up fe that way; not ignorant of books or of
tSJ r^^^iL*?* "^^^ *•'• -sumption that I wa. in ^l
worid to contnbute something to it by my usefulness I
^«»tributed much. Heaven onl^ wj; ^t the
onputoe to work was instinctive.
And M Hugh-s wife I began tr, . .- ),:.t I should be lifted
h«h and dry into a sphere wh. t. ' ca ^. , ;!! ^^
«tone^ I d,ould dr«s and I <f, . ^ .„,,,, /^U I
Aoud.«,use myself and rr,l.,uiajK,.. f. „ TuJ
Ro-iterdid: itwasallMrs. . . ..„„,,edi,-:;::„ "tfhrt
ISJdltSere^^*--*"^^^ -------
It was a kind of feminine Nirvana. It oflfered me noth-
towm glonoudy. The wife of Larry Strangways. whj?
ew she tun«d out to be, would have a goal befw^ h«
•te«ag. Hugh Brokenshire's wife would have everything
^e would have nothing to do but think and think and
STZ^ h«^ to not thinking at all. *Se^y
•i» J ^ "''*" "^^ ^««^ towanl this fate- ani
like St. Peter, when I thought thereon I wept ^
I had teten to weeping all alone in my pretty room.
^A ooked out on shrubberies and gar^LT I S
^bably have shrubberies and gardens like them s^e
<lay so that weepmg was the more fooKsh. Every one
^n«^ me fortunate. All my Canadian andl^g^
fr^^ of me as a tacky girl, and, in their downrSh"
practical way,sa«lIwa8"doingverywellformyself"
345
I
THE HIGH HEART
Of coarse I was-^hich made it crtmiiial on tny part
art to take the Brokenshire view o£ things with eqtaaim.
|ty. Itriedto. I bent my wiU to it. I bent my spirit to
It. In the end I might have succeeded if the heavenly
fanmpet had not sounded again, with another blast from
Saiajevo.
CHAPTER XXn
^S I have already said, I had almost forgotten Saraievo
rc-^tert-i^"^f=;
It was hke that first disquieting low note of the "Rh^l
SlttTLt^lTdilh'^SrdJT^i '°- -^
^the ena of the olT^Jta^t ^X^ ^^v^^'
"What does it mean?"
between a laugh and a look of tenor? ""^ "inted at
brSf^fT*^ ^ "^"^ descending the Rossiter lawn on a
bnght afternoon near the end of July CissiP Ih«
P-smg ^U some of the Burkes, in ovef rgrS",^
ard us. Had we seen the papers? Had we%3 tJl
Austr^note? Could we makerythinglt" i^ ""'
347
THE HIGH HEART
I recafl her as an extraordiiumly yivid picture agaiart
the background of blue sea, in white, witii a green-siBc
tunic embroidered in peacock's feathers, with loi^ jade
ear-nngs and big jade beads, and a jade^irfored plume in a
black-lace hat cocked on her flaming hair as she alone
knew how to cock it. I merely want to point out here
that to Cissie Boscobel and me the questions she asked
already possessed a measure of life-and-death importance-
while to Hugh they had none at aU.
I remember him as he stood aloof from us, strong and
stocky and summer-like in his white flannels, a type of that
safe Mid separated America which could afford to look cm
at Old World tragedies and feel them of no pereonal con-
cern. To him Cissie Boscobel and I. with anxiety in our
eyes and something worse already clutching at our hearts
were but two girU talking of things they didn't under-
stand and of no great interest, anyway.
uZ^^.„'^'^' ^*^^ Alix!" he interrupted, gaily.
Cissie win excuse us. The madam is waiting to motor us
over to South Portsmouth, and I don't want to keep her
waitmg. You know," he e-^plained. proudly, "she thinks
this httle girl is a peach 1"
Cissie ran back to join the Burkes and we continued our
way along the Cliff Walk to Mr. Brokenshire's. Hugh had
come for me in order that we might have the stroU to-
gether.
I gave him my view of the situation as we went akmg
though m It there was nothing original.
"You see, it Austria attacks Serbia, then Russia must
attadc Austria; in which case Germany will attack Runa,
and Prance will attack Germany. Then England wiU
certainly have to pitch in."
"But we won't. We shall be out of it "
348
THE HIGH HEART
T^ complacency of his tone nettled nie.
But I sha'n't be out of it. Hugh."
He laughed. ^^
bowliB^'^. "^ "°" ■" ■» ™« "««■ • «l»pln in .
^o^el?wit?:r r'^^'u "°* '""^ -diae^nt^
-«i a ^^„, ,„,er«t in th; Si^T^^r^l ^
349
THE HIGH HEART
«mbled-to my mind at least-the interest of an dgh-
teenth-century farmer's lad Mdted at a cockfiriit. It was
-^t m the spirit of "Go it. old boyl" to each side
Ci«;i'R*°°^K»f "^/x «B Jt ^ '^ther on ftat to which
2«.eBosoobel and I were nationaUy opposed; but this,
we agreed, was to tease ns. So far as opinions of his own
were concerned he was neutral. He meant by that that
he d.dn tc^ a jot who lost or who won. so lone as America
was out of the fray and could eat its br«ad in safety.
There are more important things than safety." I said
to tarn, scornfully, one day.
"Such as — "
But when I gave him what seemed to me the truisms
of hfe he was contented to laugh in my face.
Cissie Boscobel was more patient with him than T was
L ^'^^^r^,^''"'^ " ^^ ^""^^ th^t splendid tolerl
aace which allows to others the same Uberty of thinking
thq. dam for themselves; but in this instance I had none
otit. Hugh was too mudi a part of myself . When he
said, as he was fond of saying, "If Gemiany gets at^
degenerate old England she'll crumple hi up," L^
Cissie could flmg him a pitying, confident sSle, with
Zi^'^ "" '* whatever, while I became bitter or
Pwtunately, Mr. Brokenshire was called to New York
on buaness connected with the war. so that his dear
Alexandra was dehveied for a while from his daily con-
d«««^ns^ Though Hugh didn't say so in actual words,
«f mTI^ .^* ^"^^^ ^°^^ ^h«- "^di the house
ofMeek&Brokenshu^. Of the vast sums it would handle
a conmnssion would stidc to its fingers, and if the busmess
grew too heavy for the usual staff to deal with Hugh's
3 SO
THE HIGH HEART
own enerpM were to be called into play H«ft.*t. u
told me, had said sn Tf ,,™- i j t. ^ ^' "" wther, he
had 1^ tte haxdihood toS^S.!^* '"""■"'"^ ""*
often as he could. ^e^uLT^^^ '^^ '"^ «*
Rossiter, between him and W^dL "^ ^ ^<1 J™
tiree and four and ^an^ 1 T? . , aagaates, between
ceaseless st^^^f ^^^J ^f - t^ether. with a
women knew nothing wrt°^ ""^"^ °* '^'^^h we
bathed at BaileyrL I vS7 ^"^ ^"^ ^"°**««' and
livedinourown'ii^^tlSd^Spt^^^* ^'^ '^°°' ^«*
interests convulsing tte w^M ^ ' •'*"* °"' *««> the
begun. The iS Cii' r^'t; f"""^ ^ad not yet
Ainerica. with tht s^ ^^e^^ ^ l^ appeals,
mind, was stiU undeft^ T !^^«>-Pnissian War in
give its philTt^^ S ETn*^? J' '^'^ ^^
over. °^ ™e need for it would be
too^re^L^ftl^S^^iS'T^'^l'^"-^^^
heart that acted ra^ ,,, .; ^"^ '^'^ us, it was the
iatelligence^t wtl^J^'-":!?'^^*- ^o far as
Britain lifted hShTdX,^"""^ *^'' °«'* G^*
That was a mar^';^"^*".! "-t-^ would tremble.
">und us should talk of^nemv-,^^ "" **^* P^'«
was just coming into ^^w^^L>!^^"?'=y- ^he word
^^r^li^we^in^Tekfirunri""^"-^-^-*
"^irt'^irthriik^ss^S^^^-^^-''
turbed deliberation aT^^tl^i'"*^ ^"^^ ^^
. as a matter that was nothing to them.
o5*
THE HIGH HEART
Many of them hoped, and hoped KdmHy that the «•<!.
rep^sented by England. R^ and ^^^1^1 J
s.t down to eat and drink, and rise up to play, aTv^ weS
d«ngat the mon^n, while nothing LldV^ h!^ C
Owing to our kinship in sentiment. Lady Cissie and I
^cl^r^ogether. We gave each other HtsS^'
tion m whid. no one else would have had an interest^
^^**-^^«**- fr<- England; I f„«> En^d ^
C««da. Her brother Leatherhead had been ^de«d to
France with has regiment-was probably there hS
^ther Rowan^who had been at Sandhurst. S^jot^
«»tmussion The young man her sister Janet wTe^Led
to had sailed with the Ranger, for Marsehles aX^'o
^ t°ir :.*' ''■°°' '"^^^'^ of coming home. VbT^l
get leave the young couple would be married hastily S
which he would return to his duty. My si^^ iS"
s^L C„T J^ Tf '"'^^^- '^^^ '^"^band of my
SSt^ZL J"^.^^ ^ ''^ appointment at Gib^
Taltar, had been ordered to rejoin his regiment- and he
too, would soon be in Belgium =K™™^. ana he,
From Canada I heard of that impulse toward recruiting
whidi was thrilling the land from the Island of vln^?
m the Pacrfc. to that of Cape Breton, in the AtW^'
^d in which the multitnd^^ere of oke h^t^S^
came from banks and shops and mines. They tramoed
HT£fBlr'?k'^°"''^J'^°"'^ Ungava^SS
Hudson Bay. They arrived in troops or singly imcelled
bynothu^ but that lovewhich passes the love of w^^
the love of race, the love of country, the love of ho^!^
3Sa
THE HIGH HEART
love of something vast and intangible and inexn««w.
that comes as near as nossible tn tht^T ^ ""s^PucaWe,
almost the love crf^"!^ * *° that love of man which is
this Z/T^"" "^l^' '^""^ '"y countrymen it was
t aad >t was nothing short of this. TliSw^ JZ
^S£^ICw^ "^^^'^ *° '"^^ south^^as s£^
Snflif?S''"'"*'^*°°^°^'°f*«>thanto^
we son ot Jesse, as a king gives unto a king "
Men are wonderful to me— aU men of an «~. in.
-^redonptive love if ever there was one; fc^^g^t^
ment she ever made on the s«b;ect^TralLro;:^:
3 S3
THE HIGH HEART
—^r. JSSSr T^ ,'""^ ^"i"
berin^^^tv iJ^I?'^''°^^y: his father's lum-
scale- S E^i^i^^°" ^^ ^^^^ ^^ I could
was on ^^^^1^ S J °^ ^l-"^- or stress it
let me say in passmg ^Tw™^ ^ *°"*=^ *PP*^'
could not resn^T?" •* ,! ^"^ "^"^ ^'^ h™. he
^a not respond to it; but it relieved mv renre^
emotions to send it out on the wings of the s^t.^H^
354
THE HIGH HEART
that I must ha^i^ -^^^ ^' I could only «piy
tat. I. -ud. I ^s^srsiTS^s"' •• 'r-
decent posfflble. As I Hr«=c«j t , *" ** t^'e most
never knov„,it-S^'^'^^?f°J^<«. ^«« I had
"ing on the t«kwh« 7^/ ^"'^ '* ^^""^ that ev«.
I nu^t to'iS^i:'Xl''%^rM"«--y heart,
-inute I went doLstLT But f^'S^^^ f ^.^^ '* the
just whae I was fasteiZ^m j^ ^ ''"'^ '°t«^.
hat, it seemelS 2^f ^ ft"™ ^"^ ^^^^ °" "'y
nate passion co^e^M": S^.'^ ''' "^^ '^°^-
^ Aadyet.afterhavingl'^XS«^ght.
I should make in ri^H,^ f ^ "'"^^^"P^'^hes
P^e hmi up forever, he never men-
o55
THE HIGH HEART
tionedlovetomeutan. On the contrary, he hmi „ thrt
«. When he came forward from a comer of the long
^itm'"^ "".*• ««barra«ment was on my ^'
heuI^r^hSST^t*^--"-^-^
I tned to munaur poUtely that, whatever it was, I wm
t^ «e hm*-^y the word, refused to fonn th^
dI2"'"^ ^ *~*i" ">•«»«<».« I cast about me for
<»«>»■ It's so stuffy in here. "
IM *«jay through the haU, picking up a roee<olored
porasol of Mis. Rossiter's as we passed the umbrelhwtMZ
How much money have you got?" he asked, abruptly,
as soon as we were on the terrace. "™puy,
iJ "^^l*^ **°^ *° «^*«" «y wits fi«m the far fields
mto which they had wandered. "« xar neios
^^-jDoyou mean in ready cash? Or how much do I own
"How much in all?"
I told himHust a few thousand dollars, the wwckace
what I earned_,_was about four hundred dollars a year.
JoJLr^ ' ..tt"^^' ^ ""* descended the steps to the
lowert«ra«. "How soon could you let me haveit?"
the ^ IT."^^ " ''" ^' •^"'^ *« '"'^ toward
a^myfewc.ndsand forward me the proceeds. Mr.
Strangways hmiself said that would take a week
I m going to make a small fortune for you," he laughed
^explanation. "All the nations of the eai^th ar,tSn-
iimg to send to us for munitions, and Stacy GraiiS^ «
3S6
THE HIGH HEART
There'll be • denuad
Only till
right en the qwt with the goods,
for tminitions for yean to con»— "
"Oh not for years to cornel" I eichumed.
the end of the war." "•«««.
Biiii?" " n^ '^f " °°* ^ '^^ ^' ' " '» 'looted frxan the
wfr. Jl ' ' n'^^ "* ^ ^y '»'» by-telieve mel
Were up agamrt the .truggle mankiad has been getttae
«i^ore^«nce it shad a history. I don't waft j^
to n«ke money oiit of it; but. since money's to be rJZ
Td^^n^l hdp Hiking it-I want jx« to be in on it."
my ^. *^ '-=-'«««« I had something else on
n!I^^^ ^^'^ ^'^ *^* I'™ engaged to Hugh
S^^.- ''^"^o'-'^edbeforeTSlbackS
thi7*t^ ^ ^ """^ **• ^*'' "*• '^^^'n I'« suaesting
ftlinl^/r r** """"^ °^ y°" own. in Ste tS
^iTv^^- "/°" '^°°'* ^^^ '' ">« Brokenshi^
money will break you down."
I don't know what I said, or whether I was able to
sayanythmg. There wks something in tlTpScS
caie-tafang mterest that moved me^ore than ^lo^
^^Z^.'^^'^^'^'- HewasrenJnS
=« m everythmg but his protection. That was go^
ZsZ^^r^j:: '"'' "" ""' "''''^ '^•^ -^^ ^•-
JZ^JX^^ We must have said something as
we descended the slope; I must have stammered some fort
of appremtion. All I can dearly remember is that t
we reached the steps going down to the ClifE Walk Hueh
was coming up. *
I had forgotten that this sort of encounter was possible
3S7
MICTOCOry lESOlUTION TBT CHA>T
(ANSi ond ISO TEST CHART No 2)
^ -APPLIED IfVHGE In
^as** 1CS3 EqiI Mam StrMt
^■^, Rochester, New York U609 USA
rj^ (?'6) *a2 - 0300 - Phone
^S (^'6) 209-5969 -Fax
|!
THE HIGH HEART
I had forgotten Hugh. When I saw his innoeent, blank
face staring up at us I felt I was confitMiting my doom.
"Wdl!" he ejaculated, as though he had caught us in
some criminal conspiracy.
As it was fw me to explain, I said, limply:
" Mr. Strangways has been good enough to ofiEer to make
some money for me, Hugh. Isn't that kind of him?"
Hu|^ grew slowly crimson. His voice shook with pas-
sion. He came up one step.
"Mr. Strangways will be kinder still in minding his own
"Oh, Hugh!"
"Don't be oflfended, Mr. Brokenshire," Larry Strang-
waj^ said, peaceably. " I merely had the opportunity to
advise Miss Adare as to her investments—"
" I shaU advise Miss Adare as to her investments. It
happens that die's engaged to me!"
"But she's not married to you. An engagement is not a
marriage; it's only a preliminary period in which two per-
sons ^lee to consider whether or not a marriage brtween
them would be possible. Since that's the situatmn at
present, I thought it no ha«n to tell Miss Adare that if Ae
puts her mcmey into some of the new projects for ammu-
nition that I know about—"
"And I'm sure she's not interested."
Mr. Strai^iwayB bowed.
"That will be for her to decide. I understood her to
say — "
"Whatever you understood her to say, sir. Miss Adare
IS not interested! Good afternoon." He nodded to me
to come down the steps. "I was just coming over for yon.
Shall we walk along together?"
I backed away from him toward the stone balustiwte.
3S8
THE HIGH HEART
He'f^i^lf?^ ^ **"Hf "^ ^'- Stnmgway, like this.
He s^e all the way from New York on purpose to-"
tiJ^^./^ ^^^ ^ "^P^ '^^ pay him for his
time; but if we're gomg at all, dear--"
m^fl^rif.l^* *^f ^^ ^*^ Strangways I mastered
my wrath at this insolence, and spoke meekly
.'.'1 ^'^'* ^°^ ^* ^"^ ^^ anywhere in particular."
_ And you U excuse me, Mr. Brokenshire," our visito-
mterrupted. -'if I say that I can't be dismissal in this way
by any one but Miss Adare herself. You must rem^b,^
die «ntyottrwrfe-that she's still a free agent. Perhaps.
If I eiqjlain the matter a little further—"
H^ put up his hand in stately imitation of his father
Please! There's no need of that."
"Oh, but there is, Hugh!"
"You see," Mr. Strangways reasoned, "it's more than a
question of making money. We shaU make money, of
c«n»; but that's only incidental. What I'm really
askmg Miss Adare to do is to help one of the most gtorioM
caases to whidh mankind has ever given itsdf— "
I started toward him impulsively.
"Oh! Do you feel like that?"
"Not like that; that's aU I fed. I Uve it! I've
no otiier thought."
It was curious to see how the force of this all-absorbing
topic swept Hugh away fixan the merely personal stand-
point.
"And you call yourself an American?" he demanded
iiotly. '
"IraUmyselfaman. I don't emiAasize the American
Ifiis thmg transcends what we call nationality "
Hugh diouted, somewhat in tlM tone of a man Mckinir
■gainst the pricks: ^^
»* 359
THE HIGH HEART
It's got nothing to do
"Not what I call nationality!
with us."
"Ah, but it will have something to do with uS! It isn't
m«ely a European struggle; it's a universal one. Sooner
or later you 11 see mankind divided into just two camps "
Hugh wanned to the discussion.
"Even if we do, it stiU doesn't follow that we'll aU be in
your camp.
"That depends on whether we're among those driving
forward or those kicking back. The Amr "^ people haf
been m the first of these cksses hitherto; it ,^s to
be seen whether .ot it's there still. But if it isn't as a
nation I can tel you that some of us wiU be there as indi-
victuals.
Hugh's tone was one of horror.
'' You mean that you'd go and fight ?"
"That's about the size of it "
into^^b'"''*"'*"^*"*°^'=°^*'^*°'««*ti««'-
" If I had to choose between being a traitor to my coun-
try Md a traitor to my manhood I'd take the first. For-
tunately, no such alternative will be thrust upon us
Miss Adare pointed out to me once that there couldn't be
two nght courses, each opposed to the other. Right and
nghts must be harmonious. If I'm trur to myself I'm
true to my country; and I can't be true to my country
urJess I do my 'bit,' as the phrase begins to g^. for S
good of the human race."
''And you're really going?" I asked, breathlessly.
As soon as I can arrange things with Mr."-but he
remembered ue was speaking to a Brokenshire-"as soon
« I can arrange things with-^th my boss. He's willing
to let me go, and to keep my job for me if I come bact
360
THE HIGH HEART
He'U take charge of my small funds and of any Miss Adate
inbusts to me. He asked me to give her that message
When it's settled I shall start for Canada."
,. J.""^* ^ *^° ^°" ''° *^°°*^'" ^"S'' st«t«l. triumphantly.
They won't enlist Americans there."
Larry Strangways smiled.
"Oh, there are ways! If there's nothing elscs for it
I'll swear in as a Canadian."
"You'd do that!" In different tones the raclamation
came from Hugh and me, simultaneousl;
I can stiU see Larry Strangways witli . -,roud, fair
head held high.
"I'd do anything rather than not fi^ht. My American
buthright is as dear to me as it is to any one; but we've
reached a time when such considerations must go by the
board. For the matter of that, the more closely we can
now identify the Briton and the American, the better it
will be for the world."
He explained this at some length. The theme was so
engrossing that even Hugh was wiUing to listen to the
argument. People were talking already of a world federa-
tion which would follow the war and unite all the nations
in approximate brotherhood. Larry Strangways didn't
believe in that as a possibility; at least he didn't believe
m It as an immediate possibility. There were just two
nations fitted to understand each other and act together,
and if they couldn't fraternize and sympathize it was of
no use to expect that miracle from races who had nothing
in common. Get the United States and the British
Empire to stand shoulder to shoulder, and sooner or later
the other peoples would line up beside them.
But you must begin at the beginning. Unless you
started as an acorn you couldn't be an oak; if you were
361
THE HIGH HEAKT
I
It
«°t_^Hng to be a baby you could never be««,.
There must be no more Haeue ^wlT^ ^*°" * "»»■
programs and inJ^L^Z^^'^^tl^fvast
d««n was evident. We nrnT^' • ^'^ "^ th^*
««r beyond tie possibie t!^ t^"^' "" «»^°'t
lay in British aaV^^^ J^^^"' ^^ ^ Practical
undenrtood prindpte ^J^^^^^r *"<^ «»°»only
that had neTSrw^^""?^ ^J",^-* « them'
not primarily of governmeSibutCJdW *'" *^
thmg, of individuals t+ ^ . *™ ^^°« every-
caa man and w^ J* ^^ ""^ *° *' ^"''* ^^ W
lintenuptein; Thlt^wT^ 'T" ""^ °P^°--
and woman^ Snt oTJ' ^n^P^^'u^"'''^"^
operate with America wa^fH,^.'^'"^'*^ t° «>
-ntiment on the^J^L^^" "^^ "^ ^^ »^'l-
British muddling ^ *^' *' "^"^'t «>-operate with
th:s*mi^t"r;t2Sr"^-^- "^^-^
Well, then, efficiency fe H^ T* *° '^°' ^'t it?
There's the efficient of the^t.^' ^ ^"tions.
f^ and guards HI ^;^'^. ^^ ^"^ ^s
«f thetigeriathejunrie^ir ^' *^'' ^^'^^'^'y
It was not a questi^ h^ J^ °"^ " '=^«*-"
b^ this w a:^her t ^^-/^ to -son, as to who
It wasnot a question orEn J^tS"?- * '^ * « J"^-
or .of French or Russian a^oT 0^^^."^^"*^*^°°'
qunywentbackofallthat^^ \^T"°^'*- ^hein-
E««pe. beyond theMSeAlT'^J^'''"«^«»
i-ia and Egypt, ft wa^ a batt.!^ '^r°?'*,J^e and Assy,
nations-ti; last g^:t^*"f,lP™:°Pl«« rather than of
--%htbetwe^/-g„^-n^^„^,^
THE HIGH HEART
men and the contiwy instinct, implanted more or lets in dl
r^that they *.a hold up their he^ls and^ft;:;^.'
It wa. part of the impulse of the htmum race to foiw
SSt^^r"- "^^ ""^ *^* worked ^S
hberty had been anning themselves, not merely for a
IZ'^w'^J.^T'^-^ ""'» *•» ^P"'^ «rf time for
jurt th« tnal of strength. The effort wodd be cSl
and rt wouM be cuhninating; no human being wSS
^J!^!^^^- KAmericadid„'tcoierofh«
tane he Larry Strangways, was going of free will.
He didnt express it in just this way. He put it humblv
colloquially, with touches of slang. ^'
"I've got to be on the job. Miss Adare, and there are no
t..o ways about It," were the worfs m which he ended
Ive just run down from New York to speak about-
about the money; and-^d to bid you good-by" He
ghn<^towarfH^h. "Possibly, in view^efL that
I m so soon to be off-«id may not come back, you
know," he added, with a laugh-"Mr. Brokensl^;o^
mmd If— if we shake hands." «Bmrewont
tnLT '^^^.^''^}'' ^^^ that he gave us a lltUe while
togeaier. Gomg down the steps he had mounted he
called back, over his shouldsr:
" I'm going off for a walk, dear. I shaU return in exactly
fifteennunutes; and I expect you to be ready for me then."
But when we were alone we had little or nothing to sav
i^s T ^r^ °i f ho- as a period of e^otion^
paralyse I knew and he knew that each second ticked
off an mstant that all the rest of our Kves we should long
for m vain; and yet we didn't know how to make use of it
We began to wander slowly up the slope. We did it
363
.!«:
THE HIGH HEART
about hiaSto^^^'^^iJ^.^-'^-Wet^^
off. so far as WB t^^Tl* ,. . ^ **^* ** brealdng
G«in,er"a„" M^'"^^'"*^--' «-*-«' Mr'
about outselvBs wJ «7^^!: f '^ """^ °°«>i'«
were slipping awav TvZnT^/ 1^ **** *•* «nds
beneath thetanHf IS £"17' ''^^^^hen.
., Good-byl ' Larry Strangways said. ZT
'^d. desperat^^J^ to 1^^/ '^? "^^ *«« >«t
respondTT ^^ "' »«'*'*«> I was unable to
ani tllke^SLjruJST"' r ^« ^^^ «^ back
happened that?rC.:d::^-Jkte' """^ '°" '*
towanl Hugh All T ^ • *""* necessary steps
"Life is not TKr "^^ ? "^^ ^°^ •»« t° understand'
benit;ti^^"^'^P:^--^'^'>^»'^dly. It is a
CHAPTER XXin
A^rJf"^^^?'°''*"'*^ ^^ I ^-^ ^alWng alone the
•2; Ocean Drive a few days after Lany StrangwS^ h^
come and gone, the dear lad got sWsatisfa^rfS
chfrpng me with inconsistency. -^acuon trom
"You're <»rtainly talking about England and Canada
tO;day y^ diiferently irom what you uLd to. "
Am I? WeU, if it seems so it's because vmi /i„„-*
"^^r*'^*"*'"'^ °' Canao^ans to^brJtr
^^^ \w*^' ^ ^ 6°venunent. England hS
been magnificently true to us always. It's only betwe^
anses and for that most Canadians don't cate. The
dS'S T'l'^i'^ ''"^^" ^^'^ bumptious r
ITy ^ ^! Canadian would grow bumptious if the
Enghshm^ didn't snub. Both snubbL.g and bTp W
ness are offensive to me; but that, I 4pose,TS^
Imover-sensitive. And yet one forgets sSe^J^,^
^««nes to anything r^ly national. In that we'n. o^
t" PloridT^f ^r"'^''' " ^* -l^'* binds OiCn
to Konda You'll never find one of us who isn't^d
toserve when England gi,^ the orders."
'To be snubbed by her for serving "
"Cmainly; to be snubbed by her for serving! It's aU
we look for; it's all we shall ever get. No one need nlte
any mistake about that. In Canada we're Sn^S
36s
THE HIGH HEART
J«iding fifty thou«nd troop, to the front. We n»r ««d
we re not wch children as to go into a cause in the hwe
^t«»neone^giveusBweets. We do it for theQuT
We know, too, that it isn't exactly injustic on the E^^
Mde; It s only ungraciousness."
'•Oh, they're long on ungraciousness, all right."
.Z^' ^^ '*''«'7l°"g on ungraciousness-"
h.', fZ w ''^'' *'^*- "^°" "'^'^'1 ^'^ Wm cus. after
he s been kotowing to some British celebrity-^Trivw
Imn the best of all he's got-^d put him uJlTSe^
dubs. T^eybringhimlettersinshoals. you^n.^T"'^
I m afraid it has to be admitted that the best-manneied
«nong them are often nide from our transatlanH^S
v^ew; and yet the very rudeness is one of the dS rf
their good qualities You can no mor^ take thTS^^
TTJ out of the English character than yoT^ S^
wouS"""*-/^""^' but if granite ^'tlLS^:
wouldnt serve ite purposes. We Canadians know^
don t you see? We allow for it in advance, SHs^Si
MS strength and sagaaty. We're not angels onrselvea-
neither you Americans nor we Canadians; ^7^
J;^,,«et the credit for such smaU meri^ « H
"All they give us credit for is money "
thl r'r f'^T^l ^^' ^ ^ ^^t ^^ of ««Mt for
i^lldi^^ : ^^"^ "^^ ^ ^°^^ calf of yo^
TW faU down and wor^ip you, like the children of iS
Sl^l'^uT"?- ^^'^^'-^ rich as we shall be^
day they'll do the same by us." =»«»uDesome
366
THE HIGH HEART
^S^l^'^^ r '°*f««« with Hugh h«i came to be
whony alon^ > itemational Unw. We we« nTi
«»«ly a n«r ,„d a woman; we ww ^. J°^
P^nUofview. The wor.d-st^gX-Te fc^^.H:
I*ny Strangways would have ca'led it-_t.^r i '
.•nus. Theinti:?ocln„«ofTu2l,^^^*
Cho^k. we had our part in the vast drama V^ut
d'Azur. ^^^ "^® oky-hne as they do on the C6te
felurfkS 7"" "^^Z '° ^"^ *^ ^^^ since I
riS^t:SThei.TJiSr«i-^r^S
^^P^ed and explained. S^^^^lt'n^,^'^^
£wl-^!r^' English-speaking nations l2^f?hs
"You se;,, Hugh, people, are like people. Each of us
367 ^
THE HIGH HEART
dMthrt ,t off «, v«y weU; and yrt you contrive to b^
^^u« together and uphold the honor of the
"I'm a Socialist and Jack's a snot>-"
'That's it. Mentally you're the world apart. But
SrwI^l JT* '° «»»«>°" to work for, you get along
t^^r^ 1°^ "'^^, *^°"''*"'* '^' Englishman and thf
i^rr -,-«"^'^ Why should they alwaj-s see how
^ ?^^*^'* "''*'^ °^ ''°* """^ they are alike?
W,y should they always underscore each other's faulu
when by seeing each other's good points they could benefit
^t only themsehres but the world? If there was an en-
^^jJt ^ ^^- ^^^^ *''" ^"*''* Empire and the
United States-not exactly an alliance, perhaps, if people
are afraid of the word—" ^^
his small, myosotisKwlored eyes.
^v^ *"**' '^"'\A1«: i^''* this the dope that fresh
gu> btrangways was handing out the other day ?"
I flushed, but I didn't stammer.
"I don't care whether it is or not. Besides, it isn't
«^;Ji* l^-' •',* " '^'^•-•^e; it's a remedy for the ills of
s^.^s^r's^.^- -* ^* ^ - ^' -
^rj'^'^i'''^- "°"^- "^^ «-*^
"Yes," I agreed, "Canada would still be the goat- but
^ don't mind that. We're used to it. YouKw^s
W w^if f °" °"* ^"^^ ^"^ England on the oth«r;
^Twol^" T f^- e°°d-natured boy who doesn't
r«ent kicks and aiffs because he knows he can grow and
thnvem spite of them."
368
THE HIGH HEART
He put Wi hand on my ann and ipolcB in the kindly tone
Jjat reminded me of his father. ««uyH»e
/'^^^^^''^^^•y^^oan'irtvit. It won't go down
a,ppc«, we keep to the «,rt of thinij vou «f^^^
xou see, when you've mairied
Then you'll be out of it,
thing you can tackle,
me you'll be an American.
I was hurt. I was furious. The expression, too wa.
S°°M^fr'- I'^««towishIwa,oS^"ofT
Smoe I couldn't be in it. marriage might prove a Uthe
teth m which I should foi^et I had anythkg to do^^
it. Sheer desperation made me cry out-
Very weU then, Hughl If we're to be married, can't
^be mamed quickly? Then I shall have it c;ff^y
Thm was not only a woeful decline of spirit in his
XT ^^L"^ '':'^' ■'«'°^ theBrokensWryoke
mSrhL^."^"' -quicker than dad says. But
He made no objection, however, w' . a little later. I
received from my uncle a draft for my tire fortune^d
^n^mced my intention of handing L sum JS^L Mr
Strimgways for myestment. Hugh probably looked on
the amount as too insignificant to talk about; in adSi^
to whi^ some Brokenshire instinct for the p^fitable m^
W ted him to appreciate a thing so good'^ss SZTl
Wty to say nay to t. The result was that I hearfS
I^Stnmgways. in letter, which added nothing to^
I don't W what I expected him to say ; but, whatever
nor^-^^ST''- «^ --'*-*: his le'tS^w^
^,1T ^-^ "'°*'^' ^^ ^t« at length, and
catesofstock. But they were aU political or international
369
THE HIGH HEART
« reUted in oM ^y „ 3,,,rther to the ideal of W. l«rt
England and America! The Hritiei, r"™™««rt—
United Statesf -^Zo^^T^i^^L:!!^^
^der had the baUy^r^^tSTw L'S
^ had not as yet been tr«d} yZ^^"^
when there was no peace at lie aS ^a Knf'
I-r^e^J^o^^^^^s^-^^oUfoc:
moa of wWd. lie h„n>an «« h^^si'^'J^'
as human beings of wedlock. «"« "™e »ort of need
And in aU this there was no reference to me. He«f»k*
^1S"^= I-«htnot^Iov^"tif'T£
s««wi the letters m the vein in which they w^«^
FoiXet itl was hu ordinary comment "71- A«-,-
^^^le.toowisean^Etobecaiht^tK
«STir?^^ ^^ St«ngways mrfe no
^ to me that I gave myself to forwarding tewcS
with a more enthuaastic zeal I J,a^ t« j TT^ • . ^^
fear^o^dingH,^; ^.^^^^^^J^tly^o.
eITp "^^ f ^~^ '^^ '=^^<J^ who had been
It fSl' ""^ governess and whom the bIS
hZ,-T1^' " "°«PJa"°ed reasons, had acceoted«
Hughsfuturewife. What could I know abouS^ "
3/0
THE HIGH HEART
hav« been an Xnttl^'Bol ""^ .^^ "^«^*
It wasn't .e^y fa^oSSHLf thTw^'^.f^fS
It; no one would. T ime-, „i^. " wouidn t think of
I knew townspeople of ^LS'' f^'' ''^ ^ *^«-
and Hurt inteSate gSTr;..':^ "T"^ '^^^'''
fc«o« who come ia^t^^thl ^^f^r^^ '^'^ P«>-
-d I knew -vants'^S^^S'- J^rth*"^'^''
th^^^^thewoTM. Nott^S^-te^'^^
I gitwp them tocethTl^^^f *^^°8"*^sitors.
' TheyWonSS^fS"" they belonged together.
«geachSEfli^tto'r^*t^*««-wa»noth-
«« who knew it b^h^v ^^a'' ^^^^ ^ ««»«
had all been in contacS'nJ^ Amencan war refugees
were well infonned because they^ S^-? ^*°"
Some of them told prodi^^LT^uff^'!* ^*«*
di.*ctly fh>m Dowi^rS ^ ** they had ia-
-hy Geae,^ Isleworth' S^n^^If •*\?^'«
n»nd, and the oarc iw^ r^".^'«««eded m his corn-
American. h^pni*J"f,.^^f^' *^* '^"«ftd
learned tl^atUdy Si J5fr^ Prom othe« we
^^<»^p^birft srSetSi;:- *^-
War was showa to us by our Fno^T^^^^
'»>i^ty.pi«l^«,„^,,;^7,^^^.a
m
M
THE HIGH HEART
political mtrigues, in wMch women pulled the strings I
know it was talk; but talk it was. For weeks, for months
we had It with the greater number of our meals. 'Wher-
ever there were English guests--women of title they often
were, or eccentric pubUc men— we had an orgy of tales in
which Uie very entrails of English reputations were torn
out. No one was spared-not even the Highest in the
l..and. All the American could do was to listen open-
mouthed; and open-mouthed he listened.
I will say for the English that they have no disloyalty
but that of chatter; but the plain American could not be
expected to know that. To him the chatter was gospel
truth. He has none of that fadUty for discounting gossip
on the great which the Enghshman learns with his mother
tongue. The American heard it greedily; he was avid for
more. He retailed it at dinners and teas, and in that
Readmg-room which is really a dub. NaturaUy enough!
Fttan what our English visitors told us about themselves
thor statesmen, their generals, their admirals were footlers'
at the best, and could, moreover, be described by a vigor-
ous compound Anglo-Saxon word m the Book of Revela-
tions.
And the English papers were no better. All the impor-
tant ones, weddies as weU as daihes, were sent to Mr
IMcenshire, and copies lay about at Mr. Rossiter's
Thqrsidcenedme. I stopped leading them. There was
garf m them, doubtless; but what I diiefly found was a
wild tempest of abuse of this party or that party, of this
leading man or that leading man, with the efiEect on the
unagination of a ship going down amid the curses and con-
fusion of officers and passengers alike. It may have
sounded wdl in England; very likdy it did; but in Ameri-
ca it was horrible. I mention it here only because, in this
372
THE HIGH HEART
babel of voices, my own faint pipe on behalf of a league of
democracies could no more be heatd than the tinkle of a
saamg bell amid the shrieking and bursting of shells
*!. mf*^ tempted to say no more about it and let
the worid go to pot. Then I thought of Larry Strang,
ways, offermg his life for an ideal as to whidi I was un-
wiBing to q)Mk a word. So I would begin my litany of
Bohvia and Bdu<^stan over again, crooning it into the
wrs of people, both gentle and simple, who. in the matter
of re^nse, might never have heard the names of the two
countries I mentioned together.
•ifiTfJ^lr^r^-""* °^ ^-^ Strangways's letters,
w^ from Valcartier, prompted me to penevere in this
thft^^ "".f. T' J°*««t«l here than they are on our side of
the border; bat it's got to come, for aU that. What we need La
and talk. Thank the Lord, you and I can talk if we are not very
s^ngon wr,t«g! and tolk we must! Bigger streams ha™ ri^
from smallCT spnngs. The mustard seed is the least of all seeds- bS
It grows to be the greatest of herbs. <=«' oi au seeds, but
It might have been easier to call forth a responsive spark
had we reahzed that tiiere was a war. But we hadn't—
not m the way that the fact came to us afterward In
spite of the taking of Namur, Lilsge, Maubeuge, the ad-
vance on Paris, and the rolling back on the Mame. we had
seen no more than chariots ard horses of fire in the clouds.
It was not only distant, it was phantom-like. We read the
papers; we heard of horrors; American war refugees and
Enghsh visitors alike piled up the agonies, to which we
hstened eagerly; we saw the moneyed magnates come and
go m counsel with Mr. Brokenshire; we knitted and sewed
373
THE HIGH HEART
to i^it wW^T",. ^Jl "^ ^°' Cisde she stood sUU
rf«^ K T ""^'^ ^"^ ^ ^^^^^ on. Once or twioei
So there really was a warl Kuril's <feM> "nt, t" ■
•teelflikethedistaatrmbleofSS "" '^"'
CHAPTER XXIV
yHERE was nothing to be done for Lady Cedlia h^
37S
THE HIGH HEART
because some of the courses I suggested would have done
hmgood They would have utilized the physical strength
with which he was blessed, and delivered him from that
matenal weU-being to which he returned with the more
childlike rejoicing because of having been without it.
Hugh, dear," I said to him onre, "couldn't we be
married soon and go over to France or England ? Then we
should see whether there wasn't something we could do "
Not on your Ufe, Uttle Alix!" was his laughing re-
sponse. " Smce as Americans we're out of it, out of it we
shall stay."
Over replies like this, of which there were many I was
gnashing my teeth helplessly when, all at once I was
caUed on to see myself as others saw me, so grttinjr a
surprise. '
Tf -. first note of warning came to me in a few words
from ^thel Rossiter. I was scribbling her notes one
mramng as she lay in bed, when it occurred to me to say:
'If I'm going to be married, I suppose I ought to be
domg something about clothes."
She murmured, listlessly:
'' Oh, I wouldn't be in a hurry about that, if I were you."
I went on writing.
"I haven't been in a hurry, have I? But I shall cer-
tainly ,vpnt some things I haven't got now."
"Then you can get them after you're married. When
are you to be married, anyhow ?"
As the question was much on my mind, I looked up from
my task and said:
"WeU— when.?"
" Don't you know?"
"No. Do you?"
She shook her head.
376
THE HIGH HEART
"I didn't know but what father had said somethine
about it." "
^ "He hasn't— not a word." I resumed my scribbling.
It s a queer thing for him to have to settle, don't you
think? One might have supposed it would have been left
to me."
" Oh, you don't know father !" It was as if throwing off
something of no importance that she added, "Of course,
he can see that you're not in love with Hugh."
Amazed at this reading of my heart. I bent my head to
hide my confusion.
"I don't know why you should say that," I stammered
at last, "when you can't help seeing I'm quite true to
him."
She shrugged her beautiful shouldere, of which one was
bare.
"Oh, true! What's the good of that?" She went on
casuaUy : " By the by, do call up Daisy Burke and tell he^
I sha n't go to that luncheon of theirs. They're going to
have old lady Billing, who's coming to stay at father's-
and you don't catch me with that lot except when I can't
help it." She reverted to the topic of a minute before.
"I don't blame you, of course. I suppose, if I were in your
place, it's what I should do myself. It's what I thought
you'd try for— you remember, don't you?— as long ago as
when we were in Halifax. But naturally enough other
people don't—" I failed to learn, however, what other
people didn't, because of a second reversion in theme:
' Do make up something civil to say to Daisy, and tell her
I won't come."
We dropped the subject, chiefly because I was afraid
to go on with it; but when I met old Mrs. Billing I re-
ceived a similar shock. Having gone to Mr. Brokenshire's
377
THE HIGH HEART
to w to av i«t»cu. I WM toU d» WM on th« terM«».
A« a natter of fact, die WM n«kmg her ^ tolS^
hj^«2awkw«dly carried alff a^^S^^
Jm^ part ™. without further word.. d« entered
"What did she mean?" I asked of Cisaie Boeoobel to
whom I heard that Mra. Billing had riven h«. ™^!Z .
of the incident. "^^ "«> Pven her ovra account
Lady Cecilia was embarrassed.
"Oh, nothing I She's just so venr odd "
But I insisted:
do'SSSr""""*'^"'*^^- H-l it anything to
thfS^'^^l^^^^^"^* '*«>*■ Mn^Billinghadgot
t^ t^ ^* ^ ""^ ''^"'^8 Hugh for his n^ aS
though m the past she had not disapp„,ved of ^li^
action, die had come to think it no road to haontoLT
yJ'^!^^yZ:^ truth the. is in aU that, don't
Lady Cissie did her best to support me, though between
her words and her infl«><«ri/,t, tuJi. ""«Kn oetween
comsspond^. ^^° *^ ^"^ * "^«« >«* of
"Oh yes— certainly!"
Igot the reaction of her thought, however, K»ne minutes
la^. when she said, apropos of nothing in'our c^;^
37«
THE HIGH HEART
"Since Janet ow't be married this month I needn't «>
home for a long time." "«»»ui, i needn t go
ti^Z^T^ **^* ^ '"«^°° wa. in the air, I waa
the better able to mterpret Mildred's omcular utiJ^
thene«tm«rsatatthefooto£thecouS5e"d;S
"One can't be true to another," she said m ««i„ ♦
some feel«r of my own, "maless'o^ie ilLrto one^'C
^'oS?^Ai;^;j^,^.'— —er
onl'JSgSi^r^ "" *' '^-*- " *<> -^*
of^Won':" "^ ^"" *^* P^*=^ ^ '^^ «P-^o««
to'lSl™ f"'''''' that it is mo« blessed to give than
to m«ve, I suppose our highest promptings L t^
whidiunge us to give most of ourselves" ^^ ^ ">««e
^Jtod when one gives all of oneself that one can di».
P«^«^^r *° T^^ *''' importance or the unim-
portanoe of what one has to withhold " ^^
™^ f J*l^"^ *^* had been said to me this was the
^dishrrbrng. It had seemed to me hitheS^X" tt
essence of my duty lay in marrying Hugh If I marri«4
ten for all he had undergone for my sake. iXZS
as .wing bm a debt. The refusal to pay it wZd^
solvent, ^d also considering myself honest, I feUI ^„
choice. Since I could pay. I must d^ -Th. 11
was the more forcfb/bLuTfC- H^hTZ'
379
m
THE HIGH HEART
gratrfultoWm. I could be totertUy happy with him, and
would make him a good wife.
To make him a good wife I had choked back everything
,rr '^Z*'* ^"^ ^*^ Strangways; I had submitted to
aU the Brokenshire repressions; I had made myself humble
and small before Hugh and his father, and accepted the
status of a Libby Jaynes. My heart cried out like any
other woman's heart-it cried out for my country in the
hour of Its stress; it cried out for my home in what I tried
to make the hour of my happiness; when it caught me
unawares it cried out for the man I loved. But all this I
mastered as our Canadian men were mastering their
longings and regrets on saying their good-bys. What was
to be done was to be done, and done willingly. Willingly
I meant to marry Hugh, not because he was the man I
would have chosen before all others, but because, when no
one else in the world was giving me a thought, he had had
the astonishing goodness to choose me. And now—
With Mis. Brokenshire the situation was different She
believed I was in love with Hugh and that the othem were
doing me a wrong. Moreover, she informed me one day
that I was making my way in Newport. People who
noticed me once noticed me again. The men beside whom
1 sat at the occasional lunches and dinners I attended
often ^ke of me to the hostess on going away, and there
could be no better sign than that. They said that, though
I wasn t long on looks," I had ideas and knew. how to
express them. She ventured to hope that this kindly
opinion might, in the end, soften Mr. Brokenshire.
" Do you mean that he isn't softened as it is ?"
She answered, indirectly:
"He's not accustomed to be forced— and he feeU I've
farced him."
THE HIGH HEART
^^^^^^^^„ "-aeuung for Kwrthing he granted you in
h.«nti„,. « lcri<Sfta'h^^Srr 'S''"' " "
<*in«. It WM a ««»— : V^ f^^" " told me every-
-JK^Kkrt^ Z^ ^'t^* "^^T:- ^that thou
P«»i«i She had got hT ,^« «„^^%^ /°^ ""^ "°t
gain. She <3,^^^ P"** ^"^ ''^ ' f^led her bar-
B«a. one couldn t ; she never would. It was h«v™,^ u
The bjg moneyed man who at th«f ^- 1 ''Voad her.
fi«>«noe a good WTeSL w^ ^"** "^ ^''P^ ^
woman; and I in^v^LSX •*' "^ ***« ^^-^^ed by a
his di«;mfiL, ^ P«* >»«»« P««on was the symbol of
th2;i^^';^''JJ^*o'«^veme, Nowonder
Wadly^r^ c^- ..^l'^ '•* *«"*«» «« to some
rence to a W^^'v .*^^!f T^ «« object of abhor-
^ co„i™=>i^th^St£"tS: r'- °"
w« .eething to the boilbgJT^^e ^'irT*^
■bwkmedeadwithalnAwToT!" * **^*^ ^^^ve
havelikedhimifhe^let^*"***^''*'^- ^"^^^
eAlti.^T^r'^'-.^^t. I thought
™y. ^o a spint so hot as mine it would have
381
THE HIGH HEART
jj^k^d« to ri^t. right iSS oiTT^ SS
Wag . theotegiM. I felt £«, to n»to «S dSSL^rf
^^^I'-'-^^f^" right «wl God. laShSnr^
ommpoteaoe. «tellig«,oe, «»1 love; but IhSno^Tfer
exactneu of tenns. In keepwg a^to riSt r W^
so «, fa, that no power on earth would .e«S^^
to save me-and yet I should be saved ^ ^^
I went on then with a kind of fearieameM TfT_ .
-any Hugh I was convinced thatTZTi* 11^.
if not, I was equaUy convin«H fl,.* JZTu- '"PP<*t«»;
me back. ^^' "®^***' ™* *»»thiag would hold
"If anything should happen," I said to Ci«{- n— u .
oneday "Iw^ntyoutolEter^h^.'^""'^**^
^iJ^roJSr*^ "^ '^ "^ '-• *^«^ -"• only
"Happen— how?"
^don't know. Perhaps nothing wilL But if it
^dipped away, doubtless so as not to hear mow.
And ^ one evening, when I was not thinWesoe-
«aally about it. the Cloud came down on SSLw
it:i^^.y^^^^^,tSS--bie^:
herhusb^d's ^p. had bee^S.^^^^^'^f-^^^^^
and that he was among the lost. '
So the caU was coming to me more sharply than I h^
£ert^:«eSt^^£^'«-4^'SJS
lu Mose about me beyond mentioning the fact I
38a
THE HIGH HEART
mpptm they Aowed me m much i^mpathy as the tweeo-
tal away cf • mere brother-in-law demanded ^
-iS^SrJT '"^^ "^ "^ ""^ they we« J:;i
"Think we'd ever expoee our feUowg like that?" wa>
Hugh'! comment. "Not on your life!"
But they didn't make a heroine of me a. they did with
LjidyC.»,e; not that I cam! about that. I^lyho^
J«t the fact that my brother-in-law', name w.^'i?K
A«n«n accounts of the incident would show them tS
Hit did! never perceived it. Perhaps the loss of a mea,
<teith m action of a Lord Leatherhead; perhaps we wen.
Tt^:'zr^. *° »^« tou of ^T^^z:z
th! JT^'J^^ *^"** '"" "*"' to "^ appearances
tne only «jflEerer. Within a day or two a bb^S
*« my sole reminder that the King Arthur had ^
^«ts^£"'^''''"^«-^'^«^
And then came the evening when as Larry Stramrwavs
««1 on my teUing him about it. "the f^J^J^
It was the occasion of what had become the amiual din-
^endid function. Nothing short of a splendid funa^
wovdd W ^tisfied the old lady, who had the gi^ of
makmg even the great afraid of her. The event vms the
^j:t!S"^* "^. ""* "^°" *•-*• - ^""^^ tt
^« of tte favorite, a number of brother prince, of
^ce^m Newport for conferonce with our host, wero
laduded among the guests. Of these one was stajdng^
383
THE HIGH HEART
the house, one with the Tack n,r,i,-„ u-
hotel. Iwasseatedt^^^^^'^-Jtwoata
hotel because they SHL^f °.''^° '^ »* *«
Mr. Bmkenshire Sd^.t^^ «ainiportant. Even
When perhaps heTc^dW-SLSiT'^ °^''«^
tions in clubs. ^ ^'^^'^^ to show his atten-
gone; but there w^a cSt^"'^"'*'^"'*^'^^
before the assembircL^rT"* V"' dinner-table
nation, not becaus^ t^^^' • ^ ^^" '''^^ °^ the conver-
v^hat they led T^o. ^ ^^^t. but because of
thHMe. Ittookau4emSnf^.^??,.^^^«^gaona
a^ tho* gathered in f^^^he 1 JV u"'*"^*' ^ ^«"
Rossiter's, to wait on^ a dJl ^*^"^hires' and M«.
P^fited. Thegold^;^;e\tt ^^'^^^^^^"'il
vaults in New Y^k T^w^t S," """^ '^"'^ f«»> the
as well as the platjfor ^e of ^^ '"^ "^ «°''^'
vases and bowls held the^l*?LlT^- ^'^^
gold spoons and forks w JT^ ?^ °™^ ^he table, and
fi-t tinsel had eSt^^btef'T'^'^- ''^^
how nearly the li^A^ " *° °°*"* '^th my own eyes
andempe^„. ^ ^""^^^ «« "val the state of I^
^^^^C^ZT^^l tL'' -"^ "^^^^
*e days of Solomon; theT^^o^V^^"^ "''^' ^
Diamonds flashed, nlbies b>^ J°""fi ^ ^™*^ °'"
said unspeakable things aU^n ^^ T ^' ^"^ ^""^^
row, and ropes and Zde^oZ^f T *^" ^^^^^ ^e
sates of Paradise. TwJth.^ "^''' °°" ^^'"^ °f "^e
was the only one not so bedecked.
THE HIGH HEART
g-ts and «. b^uty of the tabTe Je^S °' *"' ""'^
I had been infonni by mS^^Z^^S^^-^^
^y were sodaUv dull, that one of them w2^w""^d
^t my powers^ould be taxed to keep them in con^eZ
tac«^ MymettlebeinguMthereforedidmybeS
n^u °°\ r?" ^"^ P~^ t° be a Mr. Samuel
R^, whose clain to be present spnmg from lS
Slavic and Oriental Sst S^o^^^^^, tl Z£
glance was as guileless as his name till ^nt^I,^
38s
THE HIGH HEART
are iwobably ignorant to this dav of ewr ho™- j
bttt the fact remains. ^ ""^ °* *^ 1»^^ done so;
tr^^m^Z^^"^ *° '"'"««' M- B-kenshire by
with one of my nd At^;i f? ""^"^ *° ^^ *^ ««»
cached I was doiTit^a t^ f !?' *^P^ '^
comple^rL r^.^ ^'^'^"°" °^ «»« states was
THi, HIGH HEART
land. Mere nationaKty was left out of the question.
All nations were welcomed, with the idea of welding
them into one."
"And England," Mr. Russky declared, somewhat more
loudly than was necessary for my hearing him, "is still
bound up in her Anglo-Zaxondon."
"Notabitof it!" I returned. "Her spirit is exactly the''
same as that of this country. Except this country, where
is there an^ other of which the gates and ports and homes
and factories have been open to all nations as hers have
been? They've landed on her shores in thousands and
thousands, without passports and without restraint, wel-
comed and protected even when they've been taking the
bread out of the bom Englishman's mouth. Look at the
number of foreigners they've been obliged to round up
since the war began— for the simple reason that they'd
become so many as to be a peril. It's the same not only
in the British Islands, but in every part of the British
Empire. Always the same reception for all, with liberty
for all. My own country, in proportion to its population,
is as full of citizens of foreign birth as this is. They've
been fathered and mothered from the minute they landed
at Halifax. Poles and Ruthenians and Slovaks and Ice-
landers have been given the same advantage? as ourselves.
I'm not boasting of this, Mr. Russky. I'm only saying
that, though we've never defined the principle in a con-
stitution, our instinct toward mankind is the same asi
yours."
It was here Mr. Thome broke in, saying that sympathy
in the United States was all for France.
"I can understand that," I said. "You often find in a
family that the sympathy of each of the members is for
s one outside. But that doesn't keep them from being
387
THE HIGH HEART
^s'^U^SS.'^^ " '"''^* """"^ ^ a
fw Engh^^^^" ^- ^°n» '^at on. "I don't care
.^j^^''^ politely in his face.
^esswL'^^^5^.-ythat? I thought
Jou might conceivably „rSfM^?r*^ ««««1-
Casemente"~I named ;».»Z. t ^'■- ^^«" « Mr
f you loved them a.^d a«i^ T"^ ^^^^ tl"®* as
««e way the B^ton LT« T'^'^^y- '«>. I„ the
«>nal fancies out rf tt *!i"«"<=^ 'aijfht put ^
gteat ends." """ *P«^°° ^d «x,p«^te fe
f^^'as^^o d^ft^;: ^!j^r^ -elaimed. «,
bom the sc*ae of Eur^Z A; ^ °^* ^'^^ ''«''« ^r
««^istokeepoul7Sr ^^' ^"^ ««* °^ -^est
Sti^i,^ ^^ -->«* I had leaded f«™ Lany
^Sfthr^^ltSTESr^"^-^-^- Vou
heritance that cT^SeT^^ ->.<! it isn't an in-
quoted one of Lany St^J^ g^S^Phically." j ^ifl
heart. "Eveo. SaJ^^!^' ''"^' ^"^S "t by
and ScotchnS^ J,^^ -J^ -d Jew and I.aHan'
of It with him and binds 2. ^ ^^^ ^ P°rtion
World more closely to tte ^L^'T'^^*^ °^ «>« New
continents will aol sL^telf *' °'''- ^'^^ ^d
never run away from^TI^t ^. ^"«- A. we can
expiato what they and tw '^^"'^ans must help to
«-tries from S^tleX^^ .have "^"^ ^^^
'«=al war or a twentiethS^ ^'^":^^f« ^obea
388 Its the struggle
THE HIGH HEART
«M>g SO interested I didn't notic^th<.t. ^ • .. .
"eigfabon. were listening, Z^dTn^ m»mediate
Boscobel told me aitJn^^^^ °^' "^^ ^isde
quieting loofa bet^^T^'^L^^^^- ftfL^^
step^tThS^r^." °'' '^^ "^* ^"^'-i to keep
I smiled engagingly
h^^To^'"' "° "'^ '"'^ ^^^ *^« S"*^ Empire
"What do you mean?"
"N^even against Scotland or Wales or Ireland?"
"You recognize in aU those countries a snirJf ™~„
^^toyo..own.andonewithwtrZ2.T^^°:
"Y-yes."
"Then isn't that my point? You speak of Pn.r, a
vsaitei';:^
THE HIGH HEART
tnree thousand miles «wav -i. •
and Minneeoti and ^ai ^ ^'^ ""<> Michigan
a^ alone; it^th'Sn^^;^^-' ^^ Jhat isn't cT
''^ch you Americans ha^^ /*» *^« counter witi,
otherintheworldT'sttronT^ <» do th^ with any
You n«y like soie o^^S^Tt^^*"*^"^^
from having it as your mo!f ^ '^ **" * ««* '^^7
minute you%s,^r^tJSr*.?''^*~*^'« «>e
^th a little Wh^in^wt!: ^''" I declared.
t^^„ «««a. « *3»t makes my entente^por:
^^ on his guarf!^ ^"*^ ^* *^°««'>t had most to^i
"BnSn;VlL^^-''<^':;. -d. emphaticaUy.
United Statesl^^tr;2^,f"'^ Empire and th"^
-y- I^P^akoftheTXTtSXo't^^'''"*^*"
Ime up together When ^u • . "^* "^ «08t easily
followtlS^ iS^ttolT' "r ''^^ «>« '^t vj
aUiance. or directed ISlvo'S,"^""""''*^^-''
a starting-point, theTS.^°^ f^' ^* '""^d be
aIsobeaninsta;«,ofwCt^^r"'*P^- ^* '^""'d
long run among aOtblnt^^}^ accomplished in the
toJanceandc4^o^^!i°'" °' "*« "^'^ ^y mutual
•la'^hlrt'SS^oT^.^r^tf"'"* «^«- -as a
site caUed out, "Good!" I J^J"?" ""^ ^''^S opp<^
cackle of a "Brava!" I ouri^f^ ^ ^!^ ^'^^ Being's
^^-cn the appeamnce of 'S f V°°' *^*' af«id of
.V=_=
THE HIGH HEART
tJi«me. It was burnW in heart. .--« • ^ .
r«5ven it a oSj^thSS" ti"^t?f *^*
nnimte it was out in the nn«, v i ' • . ""^ f»t for a
««teveninNewport^\lr^ .^ fr«» *« serious;
occasions IcS^^lT^ ''*«r«« *<> «n«fcnrtaad that ,
forth.«stTo,^^ *^ ^°^ ^ over-perhap.1
•way, every one ioinjni .V ^*' **»** **« not far
dotes and flash«»rf wit ^w ^>eculations and anec
•bould ha,^2^*' "^^^ !;!*«« than I
ofter we regaC^^^nr^^^'f'*^ whispered
n«r so; l^TnZh^rT^'^^' '* '""l »ade the din-
tm'^lSL^lTaShS S^^' ^* - »«>*
that the «al play bST^^ **^ ' "*" "J«*^
a6
CHAPTER XXV
««>less it was Hurfi !^„ *<> have any one near her.
When oth^S^^^t ST^'^^^'o ''^ ^
- this even^ 'Sv^^l^' T ""' "^^
s..e gave out to individuals wh^^ ^^^ ^ ""^
. The r^st of the Pb^ZZSZ""^T "^"^ *^«"-
sitting. There w^adTLTS^*''^'^^^'*
Rosdter, Mrs. Billing !^ n C^^' ^'^ "^^ ^thel
who was now sSS2r?"f ""i^^' ^^^'^^^
The two banker ^4 h^n^t^t^^^^ '^'^-
room. As I imf««^ xt ^ . ^'^ '° "le smoldnp-
custo^a^^a^^^^'nsrj^'^^^^^' '^^
seraglio, his back to theZ,Tv fitn, J- ^^^ ^- ^'^
«»ne head and statelv f n^ ^ ^^i*' ^'^ ^' ''^-
imposing 6g^ S^^n^^T°^^ h^ve been a truly
-^^wC^-ixttruie ^^---
I could hanlly hdp Se hotJ^Tt'^M ""ST^ ^^° ^ ^•
^ I was wo4 4 Slt^ S ^'i^"'^?'^^ "night
ofhis£a„^,X^^-,t;r^;^i^^"«a.«nber
392
THE HIGH HEART
BhJiw •^' ^ "^^ ^- poor old dad a
''Fuieworksl What on earth do you mean?' '
vo« «!,^''*^•^f^°*? '''"^ ^^'"'^ 80 off too close to
you, and espeaally when it's in church "
As we had reacued the doorof Mildred's nxnn, I sepr.',M
my conduct during dinner to see in what I had offended "
It IS ix^sible my entry might have passed unnoticed if
^fc. BroWure, with the kindest intentions, had not
come forward to the threshold and taken me by the hand
Z,r "^ a presentation, she led me toward the august
figure before the fireplace.
t«™°!^/."* ^Vff '^^- '" ^^ ^"^ of doingme agood
turn, distmguished herself to-night, didn't she?"
hmself m pubhc. He was often cruel, but with a quiet
^btle cruelty to which even the victims often <Kdn't
taow how to take exception. But to-night the long-
^thenng furyof passion was incapable of further restraint
Behmd It there was all the explosive force of a lifetime of
pnde, oompkcenoe, and self-'ove. The exquisite creature
-a vision of soft rc«e, with six strings of pearls-who was
^^g her ba^am, as you might say, without ha^-ing
^f/r/; T"^ hxm to the point of fren^. i saw later!
what I didn t understand at the time, that he was striking
at h« through me. He was willing enough to strike at
me, since I was the nobody who had foi^ herself into his
family; but she was his first aim.
393
THE HIGH HEART
loSS.y^^ rt » dW«infully. h. dWiUnMy
Im sorty if I've done anythiiw wtomr Mr P-.u_
sbm," I said meeklv " r j-j TT^ wrong, Air. Brokan-
H. i~.l!7 '"•'"y- I d»dn't mean to."
f»t!! ^^ o^^y head, speaking casually as on. »h«
takes no interest in the subject^ ^^ ^"
o«»1fw!!!fH^* stupidities "have been committed bv
people who didn't mean to-but there they ««F ^
Icontmuedtobemeek "«^y«ei
"Ididn-t know I had been stupid."
The stupid never do."
^^J«1 1 don't think I have been," I ^ded. with risin,
beakind««,onyrStotSiirwtw;r"'* '
,. ^He pretended not merely indifferei^Z' reh«t-
"Isn't that obvious?"
;;Not to me-and I don't think to any one else. "
i«nonm« of-<rf ftiSLllhS^b^L^T^j
people who've never set eyes on «^^T' ^^ '^
394
THE HIGH HEART
Slnoe no one, not even HmjJi, wu bum taooA to
■tand up f or me, I had to do :t for mywlf .
"But I didn't knov I had."
* ^*^*'"^ "^* ^*'* ^^^ ^ ynraed you of, if you'U
tjke the trouble to remember. I «aid-or it amounted to
that-that untU you'd learned the way* of the people who
are generally reeogniied aa ctfutm* tJ/oirt, you'd be wi«e in
keeping yourself— unobtrusive."
"Aad may I ask whether one beocmes obtrusive
merely in talking of public ailain?"
"YoullpardonmeforgivingyouaksKmbeforeothen:
but, smoe you invite it—"
I' Quite so, Mr. Brokenahire, I do invite it."
"•^^^ f °^^ ^y ^^ *° what we call good society
jwbeoome obtrusive in talking of things we know nothing:
J'^'!!^'^^ Me can set an idea going, even if one hasn't-
•ounded all Its depths. And as for the relationa betweea
thia country and the British Empire-"
'* WeM-bred women leavb such subjects to statesmen "
««t"i **,? . * "• ^^'"^ '^ *»«« ^ statesmen
Wv.T;*^ . r*"* *" temptation to say it-"and
we ve left them to financiers; but we can't look at Europe
^envise, couldn't make things worse even if we wen, to
tate a hand; and we might make them better "
fe^cT" °°* '"^'^ &«m his air of sKghtly bored indif- ',
of ZTbS. ^ "^* '" '^•^ '^^^ «»»« J-o-K^
„ K-^*; ^ Biokenshire, I have some knowledge of the
s^ect Though I'm ndther English nor AmSn S
both. I ve only to shift from one side of my mind tithe
395
THE HIGH HEART
P«rt fa . plea for It " *^" "<*~ I'a <P«»Kfl«l to
I thiaJc hia nema
**m furiou. if I ij^** ^?^ '^ »««ld probrtJy have
yw«hunxorot«IywMthe^-5r"^^«^ To take
I-w an opS^^'*'«^*^« they could do."
fo^rS^^.^e?.'" «^^ ^ -.. if you ^ eo
, 'wfSifS.''"- <=--«'' the ob^^ty:
buJtr'''*''^^ «•"—«*«„,„,«,,
o£fadiffer«.ce.a„d^:^^^«-u«dbyhi.air
tmstinawoman." ^ '**'*'«' ''1«« you put your
■Howard — please t"
^the«ythe«.asthe^^«,^^^^^^
THE HIGH HEART
Jj^^ «d not p.,d. «d yet b^ to be .p.«d th.
Say, dad—"
ly, from ber chair and wm bld^^n ."'*°' ''°°^"«<J-
other side of the ^ '''"**"'^ '""y frc«n him to the
•bout him an^.si'C X^IT" * **" * '^
»ot be the fim in the S'S r^Tt'T^ ."' "^^
aake the statement thatrsd.S,t'^" ^* ' """'^
Hugh leaped fomard.
*;She'snot in love with another maar-
AsJcner.
Hedutchedmebythewrist.
youW'.""*" *" ^'" ^ P'««l«i "Tell father
away your oSZS ^* ^^0^1^*^°"^ '^"«
^,^«enotime.forheIaugi:iStS^.^- ="*^-
They« aU her. and ^ c^ « ' ^^"^ ^^ Cissie.
what isn't so." contradict me if I'm saying
■'A S^Hfofr^.°1'°'°^'*''«^-"M«- Billing cr .led
Hugh obeyed. stiU clutching my wrist.
397
THE HIGH HEART
m
1-
know what to say I was d,^^^* ^^ *** ' **»'*
it had aU came iime^S"*','^^' '^^ ^ ''"ch
to me were: ^"''- ^ ""'y '«»d» that occuned
"I think Mr. Brokenshire is in."
Oddly enough,! was convinced of that Tt .u
assuaging fact. He might hatemfw; ^*''^*eone|
made me the object o7tH«\r^^?; ^* ^"^ ''°^'^'t '•ave
his right mind Sel^'^rt^- "^.^'••''^^^
wife, whrwasTtiUdLi ?^^ '^'^y«^°"°'^his
nothing neTl^u w'^ retreating-" but then that's
gets y^. ibS'l^V'^ ^^'^ anything-tiU she
sort. ButoS^SSir?'.:'*^ """«• °^ ^''^
lookout!" ^"'**^'"''«'<^"tches-then,myboy.
Iheard Pauline whisper "Tack f™. h
something!" ^^ ■' ' ^** Heaven's sake, do
Once more Jack's hand was laM ~. t,-
with his foolish "Say dal-T ^"^ P"^* « ««".
up quick? She's te^ awf .w "^^ "^^'^ y°» to do it
my dear. We shall vJT^ ," ^^°nt be alarmed,
^^ capture tIrSftioranTri 1^^ ^'^ ham-
been clever in your att^ T^ TJT^ ^* ^""'^
won, and you sh^velTBuI^ t^ j"^' ^°"'^
"sh- TheanniesinEuropeifX''^*^"- °°»'*
3^ shc-nng us that you
THE HIGH HEART
P^ T?r. 1^ ^ ^«'P«»sh a little too hani."
^^^ a mirg ,t off, though I felt no pain till after-
"Tell me!" he whispered. "TeUmpf v~ .
not«ar^,^f^^ TJ^'J«.n^you-re
I «mld have laughed hystericaUy ^
^J^h. don't be an idiot r- came. s««nfully. f«m Ethel
^l ^"oT^S;^^^^^-^ ^t down on
whispe«^ conversation 74 R^^ w "^"^ ^ *
tiptoed his deelc, slim per^^^T;,, ' ^* "^ ^^^^
Boscobel foUowed ^ ^ <!Se?.- ^^ "^^ *='^"
W^^e^^.^.e.'^lS^^-^w.nesatthe
right." ^ """y '^'^^^ '* s««ned to me
^^S^'^y^ '' '^'' --* ^ ^ ^ laugh:
j^::s^^tt.^erj— huS-rm?
J^She was. Howarf. Please beheve her. She was.
autho^ty" ^"« «>««^ a question of right you're an
^rof^rs=;^s^:«T2£^ --
down on a sofa all in = ivff^'*^ P^^-"»« shadow sink
with ^LZ%o^^_ * ""'^ ^^P' 1^« «»nething shot
399
THE HIGH HEART
can tbeheve in my doing right-" ^ '^
"What were you in such a hurry for? W« thot *i,
^^^^^hatdadsay^thatyou-^^Sid^::^^?:
"iree words oozed themselves out likp t^«l ^
"Well — sometirues — ^3res."
Either he dropped my wrist or I released w„rc»if t ,
fame, rtih Miitod «rf <^£lS^i^.??;
400
THE HIGH HEART
beS ^'Iw^;" '^^ "^ ""^-* "^^ht have
h^« It. , '^^t °n « a purely coUoquial tone ex
J'Z^^^^^^^^^'^^^^sHvigh. It was for
two or three reasons, every one of them to her^T
Idiot. She was marrying him, first, because he was kind
Brot^-L^^r^^^dtT^o-^^^^^^^
=L^^ti^^-.n?w%rv:^^^-----
ni3^'a2ble.'"™' *'°"^'' ' '=^' ^^^'^ -^e
thl'^sSrf "^A Z"^^"" *" ''""• "^ ^^ «^ to h^ f«»n
the start. And she couldn't foreet it Nn „;~^
would men he asked her to rrj^ ^l^Z h^a^'
£ at?n?"' "'"^ '^ P"* "P ^ ^^* b'^ "'^ ot eaiS
buiii^^'Uir'" ""^'^ «'"'^*'^^^' ^ ^- ^*^'
4'!!^?' r^^'^^* rr ''•" ^^ ^^^tt^J. imperturbably.
Jjou. father, hadn't driven him to it wiWyour hi
^wiii-"^ "^ '* ^"^"^ *^^* ^ ^'^°"l<i «P^ my
"Oh yourwiUI You seem to think that no one's ^ot
ned, ^d you sWl try to keep us as if we were five X
? ;,. ir?.""^ °* "• ^"^ 't'^ ti^e some of us sp^
Jot;wt;'xSj:^^^^'--— ^f-p^e ■
Mr. Brokeashire's first shock having passed, he got
401
THE HIGH HEART
t,L^:^'Z^ •* ^"^^y- When my chi.dr«,
you like Bu7w fP- ^«'<Wve us wherever
Mrs. Biffing crowed again •
'nf^r^^*^[ Neversupp««dyouhadthepIuck"
^el turned her attention to the other sirJher
tioTinSiXtwh?^'f = "fsoneofexaspera-
hadaber:Llro/jX^^^°\^^^™ ^•-
and you can take it fnj^"^ tt^ ^^^^r'
question of breeding, ^e's the gen^^e^.'^f Jf. *
only nnitation^^ except Mildtld ^ P^' «°d we re
toSw.°'^'-t^fn^'^-J-e.^'-<Js went up
Rossiterfromad^.^ ^°^^ "^ " *° »^-« Mrs.
"My daughter I"
its^n^rr '"' °" ^'^ °*^* ^^-^ of the r^ „^
H AlixAdare has made any nustafcp ,V. K«~, • • .
ing her own wishes-I m^yJy^Zl t ^^'Snor-^
to be true to us The Lor^ tT ? heart-m order
- much, or f^led^^S:tSTu?g:d"S'bt3^
we're as c^onasg...^-;S^^'^^^j
W^!*'.'
THE HIGH HEART
But b«»«se she is an orchid she couldn't do anything
but^ttopve us back better than she ever got fiTS
;;0h no; it wasn't that!" I tried to interpose.
It s no dishonor to her not to be in love with Hugh "
she pursued evenly. "She may have thought she wL
SS? 1 t:*f ' "^^ ^°"^''' *^ -- infovefd.r
tones? A fine day in April will make any one think it's
^^ ahre^y; l^t when June comes Ly iTow 1
dtfF«ence. It was Apnl when Hugh asked her; and now
"5^;... T\'°f"'''^''^- Sheisinlovewiih-"
Fleaser'Ibrokein.
She gave me another surprise
ws ^ovTi" '''' "^ "^ '^- ''^ °^ ''y M«<^-
I had to do her bidding. The picture of the nx»n
TZl 'V °" "i '^''' '^'^^'^ I ^^-^ think of^
^eZ^ It seemed rather empty. Jack had retired to
^ M^^lV ^^^ T ^* *= '"°°'^sht on the
Tf!!^- ^ , ^^ "^^ enthroned in the middle, taking a
subordmate plaoe for once. Mrs. B^kenshire w^s on tte
»fa by the waU. The munnur of Ethel's voice b^t no
m^Jr^S^''"^'^^- Hervoicehadthedeep,ow
"You must forgive my father "
evjl^^^"^"^*°-^- "I-liacehiminspiteof
.™^'* ^ ^" ""^ '^*^'^' y°"'" remember what we
agreed upon onoe-that where we can't give aU o,^ fi^t
consideration must be the value of what we iTd "
403
THE HIGH HEART
"You're a puss I"
been willing- Z^^-T^''^^^'^ '^° " f«*er had
motive. Whotoo^lrwSjT'h'^''''""^*
looJced.^dat.eoSrSdir*"^*"""^''-'"'
oueS'^'gi^r^U^r-^ ^^' "^ ^-' «-^ I
his hand quiS^ ^d ttfrin^^^'^. it he drew back
can hear TS ^^l^^"^ "'J *« fl°«- '
fire-irons. ""«witn a httle rattle among the
After aU her year, ^'sSS J^i^^ SS^ ^t""
must have made him f edl^7„^' ** ® rebellion
repeated my curtSToKi^cf'^*''*^''""^ ^
-ethrxnrghh^rt^^to r^«;^!';»«^3''^ «*
no noti^. Who Sps di^ ^ ^f^l^.^^
404
THE HIGH HEART
MMrti.v,ho nuaed her long, white hand **'^^ *»
Jn the haUoubddeCisdeBoscobelnx* and came towarf
^7s^T^;^f^''^"'-'^^^^> bn.thlessly.
^Ste did. As I h««ied down the stai« I hearf her
"No.Hugh,nol She wants to go alone."
POSTSCRIPT
five r£°S^^ 1^* IT^^.'T* ^ ^-^ «
of leaden g^W^Z^J^]^ T f "^*''=' « ""^
the other side of thecrescen^^v. ^^ ^°^ °»
-oje is ^i„, sS,^Li t^ie^l^ °lPf
woods round me thp Kiwi, i.- ^ 7 "'"'"^^ air. In the
f-n PloHda. W tle^'^tttlr^BL'r ^^^
mping sleepily Thev x^-lT^ "'"^'/"^ Brazil, are chir-
With LrL in^nrs^sr"srr
TirrTer'^d^ ^^ --^^ ™^-t
H^banfa^dr^-rit^^-ttS Has lent *° ^
toLTS^^tf::^fi-°n;^::rsr^
hJ^ Int^;,:^^trK"^; « he stir. I can
bassinet It l^! T^ ^ ^^^ '' ^"^'"^ "' ^'^ «t«e
the Wilis n,^r°'* °' "^ •'^^^ "- - tl^-
lace peiSTl^feTZ;*"^ am I wearing a delicate
becai^lt is as it I M^th^ ^"^^"^ "^ *'^*'
IS as It IS. My baby s name is John Howard
THE HIGH HEART
You will .M. ^r" '"™««' we pPtmounce Brook.
Jenn. to dear Hugh BS>£'^?J2""r "^T"^
idnam tc n., now, that nichf h„r« ^ f ^'^' *
enough toiwcaU. ' * *^'**" **>" vivid
On escaping Hugh and making my wav rt™™ ♦ • r
was lucky enough to find Tw! ^ <l<wn-stairs I
knight. Poor iS^f 1^1?°°^' ""^ '^'"'d footman
farhim. as teXnSti^f' *r™P<=' ''^ «>"nding
that and wm WlWiT ^ ^ ^"^^^ ^'^^Y after
^ bring Mrs. Ro^tT^ *° ^"^ ^'- J«^ Broke„shir«
win^o:jThir£tsL'«r"r'^«-"^^«'«
TJiM-™, 1 • V^ ^^*" suddenly to New VnrV
Sp^atZvid^:^tr^rrcr>''^'^-^
Newport to IWidencTabout t^^tS^v'T'"""
^ow a quarter past eleven H ttaT^^^' ^^ '* ^"^
must take it; ifXre,3t th. . ""** * *™° ^
into the deptL IfX T ^- ^ ^'" ^^- t^-^fo^.
aepths of the hmousine with the first sense of
407
THE HIGH HEART
J^rf I had had Mce the day I aee«,«*^ ™
Mrs. Roster. SomttbZ t^^'^^^^^'^*^
the two yea«, C 2^ ^JT*' "^"^"^ "« ''^ole of
Now it was delidoT I^m h. I ? ' tight-it,pe.
along Ochn, Poinr^ve^^S t^Thtf ^' *^' '"^•'
Pot Hugh I had no^lnTnt^ ^^. '""** "^ '°»?-
bUt :ful tobe frT Alt n fTP^*^'°"- " was so
Let n,e say at onX^T:^^ ^Z'^^t^^^'^-
Lady Janet Boscobel was enracedT,T^, ?' ** "^
at the front, and her na^^ . ^^u ^"^ '^ "^"^l
home, Hugh wTh«r «^ '^ ^"^^^ C'^"'" ^ 80
beginiungSrendwS^^^^'^^r '' ^^ ^^
whiA noone wish«^^^iy""j5 " " -ght. of a healing
and Hugh hrSTn^eT^^''°°^ °^ Poperinghe.
before vidua St w^C,"^.'"'^, Ambulance Cwps
haps, by some min^^ ,, ^^' ^°'''' '^''^ ea«"er, P«v
itatGoldboroughCastir^;?tS:a!^Si"T''^'^
Cissie when for a tmp T »,„ i, i • "* /-'oid. I ran across
far l^ind thel^^rNeT^ c'SeV """^'"^ '^'^ -*
ovinS^rTeS^Sfitvt:" ^°'— ^
brother as Lord L^twC!, J h^tatmg to follow his
other sec.Xi^^-^t:^''^^^^^:^^^'^
hadn't supposed til] th^ *Z T ^^ to see him. I
THE HIGH HEART
hope her devotion will be nnr.^^
^y ™ wiu be rewarded «oon, and I think it
liberty, to lightness o'tlt. ^i^^STtr ^f '"^ °^
my smt-case I could have ««. l^ ^^ *^«« «'»
waiting for her misti^TS „, ""^f"' '''•° ''^ "P.
to finish my packinrai^"f ^ '"'' "'"'' ^""^^
Rossiter would have noS/t„^ f°*' ** *^* ^rs.
after me. It couldn't £^1,^ tf * T^ »^ '^"^
amvalatthehousebefo^rwi*!lXi!r ^*" ""'
I was in the down-stai™ i,!?,.^ *° drive away again.
When a great bla^^p^^^^^ -' ^the motor,
loiees shook under me- mvJ^ doorway. My
the many-colored 6^«S^£rT°f ^ ''"^ ^^^
"^PPort to th« pili^Sit^n- i!S*^- ^ *='""« f°r
the stairway. *** ^^^^ the balustrade of
al^p^r^""'"^'"'^-^«.»'^teofitswhiHash
'Where are you going?"
"What for?" ' ■
_Fot--€or every reason."
But suppose I don't want you to go?"
IshotddstiUhavetobegciie."
He said, ma hoarse whisper-
Oh, but how can I?"
409
THE HIGH HEART
"He'f wOling to foiset what you'w Mid-whitt mr
eI.iif^BrW " *" ""^ ""^ '^ '"^ '^^^ "« «•
"Not inore than you were at the begitming of the
•veoJng. You were willing to many hfan then"
T 1^ ^ «Ji«ln't know then what he's had to lean, since.
Itopedtohave kept it from him ahray.. I may h.v«
^WTojuf-Iauppoielwas; but I had nothing but gooc!
There waa a Btrange drop in hi» voice ai he iaid. " I knr-
you hadn't." ^^ ^^
I couldn't help taking a step nearer him.
'Oh, do you? Then I'm ao glad. I thought— "
He turned slightly away from me, towari a huge ugly
fi|hm a glass case, which Mr. Rossiter beHeved to bT.
proof of his sportsmanship and an ornament to the hall
^v« had great trials." he said, after a pauae-"great
"I know," I agreed, softly.
He walked toward the fish and *emed to be rtadying it.
They ve-they've— broken me down."
"Oh, don't say that, sir!"
head to tad. "The things I said to-night-" He seemed
hung up there. He tn«ced the fish's skeleton back ftom
t° h«^. "Have we been unkind to you?" he de-
mMded, suddenly, wheeling round in my direction.
I thought It best to speak quite truthfully.
'Not unkind, sir — exactly."
"But what did Ethel mean? She said we'd been brate.
to you. Is that true?" "'=™ wuica
410
THE HIGH HEART
" No, sir; not in my aenM. I haven't felt it "
-whaS^ ^ ^°°* '^* ^ °" taperiousneM. '"nHm
We were so near the fundamentals that again I felt I
ciiKht to give him nothing but the facts.
"I suppose Mrs. Rossiter meant that wanetimes I
shot:ld have been glad of a little more sympathy, and
Jjway^ of more-<»urtesy." I added: "Prom you, sir I
shouldnt have asked for more than courtesy."
Though only his profile was toward me and the haU
was dun, I could see that his face was twitching. "And
— and didn't you get it?"
"Do you think I did?"
" I never thought anything about it."
"Exactly; but any one in my position does. Even if we
could do without courtesy between equals-and I don't
thmk we can-from the higher to the lower-from you to
me for mstanc^it's indispensable. I don't remember
that I ever complained of it, however. Mrs. Rossiter
must have seen it for herself."
"I didn't want you to marry Hugh," he began, again,
after a long pause; "but I'd given in about it. Ishouldn't
have mmded it so much if— if my wife—"
He broke off with a distressful, choking sound in the
throat, and a twisting of the head, as if he couldn't get his
breath. That passed and he began once more.
fi, '^^J^ FT^ *'^'- •■■^y ^"«' ... And then
«ie burden of this war They think-they think I
dont care anything about it but-but just to make
money. ... I've always been misjudged. . . . They've
put me down as hard and proud, when—"
..t'LT^^ ^"^ ^^ y^' ^^•" I interrupted, boldly.
I told you so once, and it offended you. But I've never
41 X
THE HIGH HEART
been able to help it. I've always fdt that there was
something big; and fine in you-if you'd only set it £tee "
His rq)ly to this was to turn awayfrom his codtempla-
uon of the fish and say: ^^
"Why don't you come back?"
I was sure it was best to be firm.
"Because I can't, sir. The episode ia-ia over. Tm
sorty, and yet I'm glad. What I'm doing is right 1
suppose everything has been right-even what happened
between me and Hugh. I don't think it will do him any
harm-Cissie Boscobel is ther&-and it's done me good.
It a been a wonderful experience; but it's over. It would
be a mistake for me to go back now-a mistake for all of ua
Please let me go, sir; and just remember of me that I'm—
I m— grateful."
He ««arded me quietly and-if I may say so-curioudy.
Tlere was something in his look, something broken, some-
thmg defeated, something, at long last, kind, that made
me want to cry. ^^
I was crying inwardly when he turned about, without
another word, and walked toward the door.
It must have been the impulse to say a silent good-by
to him that sent me slowly down the hall, though I was
scacely aware of moving. He had gone out into the dark
and I was under the Oriental lamp, when he suddenly
reappeared, coming in my direction rapidly. I would
have leaped back if I hadn't refused to show fear As it
was. I stood still. I was only conscious of an over-
whelmmg pity, terror, and amazement as he seized me and
kissed me hotly on the brow. Then he was gone.
But it was that kiss which made aU the difference in my
afterthought of him. It was a confession on his part too
and « bit of self-revelation. Behind it lay a natuie of
4ia
THE HIGH HEART
^ "^J^ <l«»Ktl«-rtiong. noble, domlnattoe meant
to be us^ for good-all mined by selfJoT^W^fkr^
te^family.ofwhomlamaofondandtowhoml^
so much, he was the one toward whom, by somrblfa^
^taneous. subconscious sympathy rfrnVo^ I W
been most urgently attracted. If h^ sod wa^^!e5 W
P«ss.o.« as his face became twisted by thZ^SS^T
who ja there among us of whom sometMng of the^^'
notbe said; and yet God has patienSlS'"*^
Howard Brokenshire and I were foes, and we fouehf
but .^fought as so many thousandsTw i^^^'
have fcught in the short time since that d^ w^fS
as those who, when the veils are suddllyTi'pS S
whaxtheyarehdpless on the battle-field Jt^^KtTS
^^^ST- ^'*«''^'»^'»y baby was bom^
caUedlum after hnn. I wanted the name as a symbol-
«rt only to myself , but to the BxtAenshire fanS^t
there was no bitterness in my heart. •^y—vm
At pTMent let me say that, though pained. I was scarcdv
SS *SL" *?'^"' X'^'' ^ - «»«"°S^
^temooo ttat Mr. J. Howard Biokenshire, the eminent
^^. had. on the previous evenir« b^TS
wrth a paralytic secure while in his motOTM, the way fr^
^cbughter'shousetohiown. He was oonsd^ S
^ed mdoo« but he W lost the power of^^
^doctors mAcated overwork in comaection with fo^
affiMTS as the predisposing cause
ovS^v^' ^?^^. I l«««i « each successive shook
ov«rtook him Very pitifully the giant was laid low. W
^^"^^^'''^^""'"^^^-BrokeiXeS
w^J^ovw Jnm-^d yet. I suppose, with a terrib^
tragic expectation m her heart, which no one but mysdf
413 ■
THE HIGH HEART
country went to war.
SL^^!!!?°^- 0« ««*«««: out of the tmin at
H^«Lany Strangways received me in his atffls.
^^ T *^^ T "° '^"'^ dining-room, with myself
s^bng the guests; I saw no bassinet and no baby. W .
nottmgbjxthm I knew nothing but him. mJLZ
to me. It was the difference.
rJ^Tl^jTi "^ ^^ '^"^' ''•>'='' I came to find
out, was the fact^t it was Jim Rossiter who had sent
to^ere-Jto Rossiter. whom I had rather despS ^a
s^, caUhk. per«,n, with not much though beyond
h^.^^ r ?^°y Graingeiwas a Brokenshire oS
by affim^he could do it-to use his iniiuence at WasW
^and Ottawa to get Larry St^gways a w J'X^
&om Pnncess Patrida-s regiment-to watch overl^
mo^e^mNewY^k and know the trainlsh^ilStZ
When I thmk of rt I grow maudlin at the thought of the
good there ism every one. -s >• «i lue
We were mairied within the week at the old diureh
viJerTw^f^^ ^'"..'"^ ^"^^'^ '^^^^J t°
MflS?c?E„Tn7^ ^ near hin-to Quebec. After he
SMted for England I, too, sailed, and met him there. I
tept near him m England, taking such nur«ng training
«s I could while he trained in other ways. I wTnrt
•naay nulcB «way ftom him when, in'^e s^ S
414
THE HIGH HEART
could to TveLT^ lol T,"^ "^"^^ '''^t they
and now Tw^tith rr^r; *^ '^'^ ^«=«<1^
Laterhewast^i^/ A .^'^^^"°^*^<^aD.S.O.
at P^gntonT'S^^^^^-- W°!«en>s Hospital,
of being nea^hiTl^!:^,"^*^ again I had the joy
the^, ^d^hai^v^ *^'=^°^*^-I»^«ot
But something S^dtfTI ^T" '**°'^ *° *=««•
what he had seen aid^ L'Ze'l Z'l, '^
Lazarus, after his recaU to life bv ^^f LTu "^^ "'
spoke of what he had exJw-Tl,^ ^f^' **** ''e never
Ican.yasmu^^mXS"*'"*'""^^'- -<*
— ^s^^^i-^-^sr^d^*
415
THE HIGH HEART
•"^y^Jng that is o( this world It i„
speech, past undfircto^-T^" ""«»»« «WW part
which no ^CSt^trr T "^ '-P^
wherehedid ^ °"* ™* '^J"* have teamed them
£Set^r^rrri=tf--
s?ir^^^-«^-«^-2tr^
«>dc-bl«e waterTi^Bav ^.T^^^^ ""^ ^
^*-d my husbanl'I^^^TS.:^^ "S J^*^*
covered I went tn » /v>«. rT . vvnen I had r&.
left the hcSlX iS:* "S^H ^^ ^"^ ^
has been so sic,;, we C^^ i„^!^ "f^"^ *« »««
tiy ever smce til. a W J™^ '"^^ ^'^n ««a-
ment allo^'uS, c^ ^ ^•. *^ ^"*^ Govern-'
lyi^^S^lSdt^^'^'*,^ He is sound asleep.
«^der whS^ £ '.St J^ '^ """^ '^^''«y «* <*«
accustomedt^h^SC^r'- ^' ^ getting
tinaeheismyott^Sv „^'^''^*'^'«Pi'^y- ^ean-
the bond is closer. ^ P«P«t><M as he needs me
li^"aiSS^-"^%r^« that used to flash
hesmCirislStw r**^'^'^^'^- ^en
awa^^hari'fcr^^r r" ^^"
a sweet smile a h™,™ _ " '^ before the wai. It is
it Pi^ces^ to'tlS^°»^' "^ ^*^y ^<=^J "nd
4x6
THE HIGH HEART
"^one. I thought I S!; '■«« fin American and I
had been bom a subject ^LTa . *^ °°«' i^^t as I
then^,htofourlandiLTinH^''^°'',^«^- B«t on
aad played the "StarHSoantruTS ' ""''*^ ^<i came
mamage. "* **^ I had shed sinoe my
«?«1 to listen to the ciSn!^^ "^ ^"^ '"y '•"*and
witttte empty sleeve.1S wLf^"^' ^"^"^
Played again, his eyes/a^eU^^f'™^. """eairwas
It recalled to me wl^t ZT-T ^' ^"^ '^
Jieve «,e nighrnS^'Sd"s2'Sl'^'^'^-«Jto
HewokeiatheunaDho^aSi^^f! hm, at Paignton.
^S with him out of the Ia^„r7^ ^' ^^^^ to
A&d, after all if * * l
THE HIGH HEART
been too ^ . «S1 T ] ^'^' ''^^ '"^- I have
wish Sn to hLTc^o^'f r *°"'*'^ ''^ '*• ^ ^
%JSJir4'"^S%Trf £ and the d«^ ,
"ew, true man is coming to his o^.^^ »^y and the
nation of mantod ^ ^* '^ '"^^^ °° «^
thS'^'*^ f ^-r* - »«- begm. to Hve again.
«i! wmoe a great Renaissance. It wiU be what th-
shall they learn wL^y"P^^ '^^ ««««». neither
JL*")**^^ ^^^': ^'^S «> silvery that as day ad-
ftl^.l^"' r^*^'^^ S"'*^' I tn" to my Bibte
418
THE HIGH HEART
have never read it at aII t.._ -i
hands and ^th* ^£jT,^ ^^ '^^ *^^g
whatforthema^t^^^^!«««- And «, I «ad
eningwo«is:^^^^^^™^*° "«'<»»«* strength-
the earth diSs^/^^ti^ '"^' "",''*'' ■*"■= ""^P^^
^ter those thing, whidfrS|*^^f ^: 7^ f^ '"^"^
of heaven shaU be shaken. AnZ,? ^ ' '" ''*« P°'««
N^^t U SS^^^''. *"» t^vaa Of the
It « coming ltoZ^,n^TP*'°° «■ °° the way.
pamtsthethiCwwSlr^'^""'^'''*^- It
of man, but ES t "^ ^*^ ^*° «»« heart
nomanwillHvetS.'i'ff^^- ^o* * ^"ture that
the blue sky. 7tS rfiitT^^. ^T^ ^^^ ^"^ ^
and pearl ^t^l^ ?* "'*° '^^' ^d ia«o into peari.
6om wavelet to i^w^= ^ "T '*""^ ^«tw««l.
and still more n2 f ^f^fr "^ ^ "dealing, nearer
Mighty 007,^'*^"' ^"^'^^ P^th'^^y. as if same
c^^L^J^:'^^ ^^''^ *° -«• "Even so.
419
THE HIGH HEART
Bvco w I kMk up, and Uft i4> my bead. BtukI
poMHi my nol in patience.
Even 80, too, I think o( Mildred BrakenaUre'a voida:
"Life it not a blind impiilae, worldnK bUndly. It k
a beneBoent, rectifying pcnm."
TBB END
on I
xdt:
Itk