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Las diagrammas suivants illustrant la mtthoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MldOCOfY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) l^lliilii _^ APPLIED IM^GE In ^K 1653 Eost Main Slre«t S^^ Rochester, New York 1*609 USA ■-T- C^ie) 482 - 030O - Phone ^S (-"'G) 288 - 5939 - Fox ] lllii^ 1 i y LIFTED VEIL r basil'king i 1' „ V'l^^^^^^^^^^^Kf-:'' ' ' HB^^^ )PM. ( frnJt WAS CRYING BITTERLV .. „ Author of "The Side of The Angels" "The Way Home," Etc. WITH FRONTISPIECE By JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York PnbUawlhrATO^mcnt wit), H*«„ & B,oth«. ' W' O k," V j I5 1*» L«". to gn^at capitals He^r? ^ ^* '^ ""«=*=^*°««1 Phase Of tS h^.i*::.srSer*^°^r^ were for :„a„:^ther than xZ^^'Sr- 2?2: ^.bdued and utili^d and „^/S 2^a ^Sr^'oS THE LIFTED VEIL could be as much greater than any of them aa the ship, with its adjusted machinery, is greater than the formless, watering sea. Here, on the other hand, the dty was the thing — gigantic, tumultuous, terrifying, monstrous. It had as- pects like those of a vast mechanism seen in a nightmare, pounding and stamping and pushing and shrieking and suffering, without pity as without rest. Of man it made nothing. He was mere grist for its mill, and was ground up in it. With no soul of its own, it mocked at the soul in him, and laughed down a belief in it. Bainbridge was coming to the conclusion that it was harder to have faith in a spiritiial life in New Yoric than in any other spot in the world. He was wondering miserably whether he should stand by the work he had undertaken or run away from it when Mrs. Wedlock came to his door to announce the visitor. Being seated at the flat-topped de,sk which held the center of the room, with his back to the fading light, he rose as the tall figure, veiled and shrouded like a Moham- medan woman, appeared on the dim threshold. He had been expecting a book agent or a solicitor of subscriptions, but he could see at a glance that this was neither the one nor the other. In her carriage there was something that betokened refinement, and probably position in the world. Motc than this it was impossible to guess, because of the thick black veil and long black cloak. "You don't know me," she said, in a voice so low that he could barely distinguished the words, "but that doesn't matter. I should like to talk to you, if you'll let me and have the time. Have you?" "I've plenty of time. Please come in." As he went forward to place a seat for her she slipped THE LIFTED VEIL fato^Mupright Chair tiut happened to be rtaadlng nwr He Umself «t down again at his desk, waiting for her to state her errand. "I heard your senaon last Sunday afternoon," she SJ^^" T*i°^ '^*' ^ "^'^ ^^ «cogni«d the thlt*^* ^'" ^ "T^- "'* *PP'^«' to n«, in the sense ttat It has made me annk of things, and I've thought that perhaps you could help me. I dare say you caa-t " she went on, rather hteiedly, "and that it ^y be f JS on my part to have come." ^^^ "Noihing is ev« fooMsh that we do fiom a good m<^ bve, he encouraged, "m all action the motive is the mam thing— even when we make mistakes " hei7^ ^ ^ ^°" ** *™*^'" ^^ ^""^^ "^ *^'* '■Probably not; but I shaU have to leave that with you teafcddJ^^**^ you think it right to tell-and don't "lam a&aid-but neither does that matter very much ll^ r^ ''^° "^"^ ^ called"-^e hesitated, but xou know what that means, don't you?" "I know what you mean— or I think I da If I'm wrong you must correct me." Ste sem«d to reflect "Why do you speak of what I m^? she asked at last "Shouldn't you mean it, .,.^1'^*' was glad that he couldn't see her face, since ^fff^ «i« more free to speak frankly. "If there's a ilifference between us it probably comes from the fact 4 THE LIFTED VEIL that we've difierent conceptions of sin. You call yoursdf a sinner because you've done one kind of wrong thing, whereas to me you would have been a ainaer whether yoa had done it or not." "Yes, but only in the way in whidi every one else is a sinner— " "The way in which every one else is a unner is the way that counts. It isn't what we do that's so very important: it's our whole attitude of mind." "That's something like what you said on Sunday; but I don't understand it. If what I do isn't important — " "It « important— but less for itself than because it shows what lies behind it. It isn't the disease; it's the symptom." "And you think that if there hadn't been one kind of symptom there would have been another." "There are symptoms wherever there's disease. It's no use to consider the effect while we leave the cause undisturbed." " In my case the cause was that I fell in love with a man I had no right to fall in love with, just as he had no right to fall in love with me. But, then, neither of us could help it." Bainbridge smiled faintly. "Youll have to forgive me if I say that that, too, was an effect. The cause lay farther back." From the way in which the veiled head was bent he gathered that she was trying to think this out. When she looked up it was to say : ' ' Then I don't know what the cause is. I was all right before that." "Were you? What do you mean by all right?" " I hadn't done— I hadn't done anything wrong. I was what is called a good woman." THE LIFTED VEIL af .-_ T: *,^°°** woman is considerable. We mi»t Aer,£r^* i*"'"^ «« caUed and «aoh ^a^^^ Agam she took a long nunute for reflection, asking at He Wn^T ""^ *'^* I w«a-t a good womn^^ He leaned on the cksk tnviTi» »Sn, . "That's hardly for me to«vV^ -r * P*P«*-knife. myopimon-'' "^^^ ««* >f you want to knew "Yes, I do." "SSSJ.P^'^-"^*"^'*«^^P«>b«b«e." w£>^s^>,?l''- ^ «-« -easin^s with yo^.T:as°";e^?r "^ - a .'do^^Ue EiHt^F-^-^^-^ Qu !u ^® diflference is there." ha^ hS^itT !;L'^ ^ ^'^^<^- "She would reached her.'-^ ^"'^"^ *° y°« ««l'J°'t have "Ah, that's easy to sayP' unhappiness that spri^i"?^ "" ^^ « ^^"^^ «>« THE LIFTED VEIL "That it, you thought they were good; but there wm a flaw in the goodness somewhere. Don't you see, it all lies in what we mean by right — and by w; iig?" "Wdl, what do we mean?" "What do you mean 3rouneIf? — let us say by wrong?" "By wrong I suppose I mean a transgressian cf the moral law." "Yes; and what makes one transgress it?" She considered this at length. "I suppose sooie phase of desire." "That's a very good answer. So that back of the actual transgression is thought. If wrong wasn't first in the mind it wouldn't be in the body — or on the lips — or in the hand — or anywhere. Good and evil express themselves in act; but in fact they are mental sympathies." "So that what you mean by a good woman — ?" "Is one whose thoughts are kept as strictly as possible with good." "On, but what kind of a woman would that be?" Raising his head, he looked at her through the gathering darkness. "The fact that you can ask that — " "Shows that when I thought I was a good woman I was really a bad one. Is that what you were going to say'" "No; shows rather that you've never understood what a good woman really is. The whde thing is mental. It's a matter of understanding. If your mind had been right your Lsart wouldn't have gone wrong. It couldn't have happened." " If you were a woman — " she began to protest. "It doesn't matter whether I'm a woman or a man. In good there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither male nor female. It's not a question dther of sex or (^ psychology." 7 THE LIFTED VEIL "Tomeitieemtboth." "Po«bly; andjretwlofigMitdoeiyoullbecooftised •bout youndf and perhape go further ast«y." He fancied she resented his language, since she again •toed uneasay and spoke in a tone slightly of (rfEense "I ha^ thought of myself precisely a« having gone astray--" One doesn't unless one has the true nonn of con- duct before one. And yet whatever isn't nonnal is ab- normal, just as whatever isn't straight is crooked." "Oh, would you caU it abnormal--doing as I did?" '■ Abnonnal in the sense that the only nonnal is the right. , "To me it seemed right." "Right to 4o wrong? You admitted that it was wrong, didn't you?" "Not all wrong.'" " If it was wrong in any way — " ' "We-we cared for each other. That in itself was a reason—" "For betraying some one else?" Once more the shrouded figure moved. "You're verv severe." ^^ Is there any use in being gentle? If there is, tell me." You'd know that better if you knew what I've been through. It's what I hoped you'd let me speak to you about." ' "Then I beg your pardon. May I ask you to go on?" It was only lifter a silence that seemed long that she said, abruptly, "I never was happy— not till then." As she was again silent: "Then? You mean when— " " When— when it all came about. It took me— it took t'.s— by surprise. We didn't mean anythiag— we didn't espect anything. It— it flared up." 8 THE LIFTED VEIL "Dow anything ever flare up uutett there's lomethins of wUcfa to make a fire?" "Yott must let me tell you," she said, irrdevently. "I was bom right here in New York, and I'm now exactly twenty-eight years old." "You're young, then. I didn't know that, because I can't see you." "I don't want you to see me. Not that you'd know me. I've never met you before, except for seeing you last Sunday in church. I don't genwally go to church. I don't know what made me do it then, apart from having heard some friends of mine speak of your preaching; and it seemed to me that I must get out of myself or go mad." "Then you're tiot happy." "Not now; bv.t I was— for a while. But you don't let me tell you." She began her explanations again. "We lived a good deal abroad, my mother and I. My father died when I was young. I had no brothers or sist'.'s. It was in Europe we met a man who wanted to mirry me. He was older than I— a good deal. I would rather not have married him because — " As she hesitated he helped her out, "Because you didn't care for him?" "Partly that, and partly that I had already seen a man who— who impressed me more — only that I wasn't exactly in love with him, either. He asked me, and I refused him, but I thought about him. And then this second man came — a rich man — a New-Yorker, too — and my mother seemed to want it — and so — " "And so you accepted him?" "He didn't Uve very long after we were married— only four years. That made me twenty-four when he died. He left me a good deal of money." m THE LIFTED VEIL 'And the other man came back? Was that it?" She shook her head. "No; he's in— in another ooun- try. I've never seen him since. He was striking— and perhaps if he'd— But he never came back. I read about hnn aometimes-in the papers. You'd probably know his name. He's been married since then— and is now a widower. But he has nothing to do with what I'm gomg to teU you-«tcept that at one time if he'd only— OTly insisted a Uttle more But all that's nothing. what really happened was with some one else." To relieve her agitation he asked, in a commonplaoe voice, "Shall I turn on the Ught?" She repHed. quickly: "No; please! There's Ught enough, and I can tell you better as we are." A few seconds passed before she could resume her tale. " When my husband died I brought him back from Europe, where we had been Uving, to be buried in his own country. I forgot to say that my mother had died two years before. I realized then that it was the reason why she wanted me to marry my husband. She knew she couldn't be with me much longer, and so she wanted me to be taken care of. But that left me without friends— I mean any one very near to me. " "And you were only twenty-four," he said, sympa- thetically. "There was just one person," she continued, "a woman, a distant cousin, two or three years older than myself. She'd been married about the same time as I had been. I'd known her all my life, without ever knowing her verj weU. She asked me to stay with her when I came back for the funeral— and then I met— I met her— her husband." "Ii 10 THE LIFTED VEIL "Nothing happened at first— not for a kng while. They persuaded me to stay in this country, and I took a house. We became very intimate. We're very intimate stiU." "In spite of—" "Yes; we have to be. I can't let her suspect that— But what happened was this." Again some seconds went by before she could continue. "But I needn't teU you that. You must see. I only want to say that I wasn't expecting anything. I was hardly thitiking of any- thing — " "You say hardly. That means that you were think- ing—" "We couldn't be meeting nearly every day without— "Oh yes, you could. The mental door had been left open, and so — " "One's human," she piot; ted, with a hint of tears. "No; one's divine. That's what you don't seem to tmderstand. By telling yourself that you're human you make yourself weak." "But low weak." "No, you're strong. One is weak or strong according as one believes oneself. As a man thinketh— You know the rest of the proverb." "It took me wholly by surprise," she pursued, as it took him. I know he had never anticipated anything of the kind, or if he had he thought he'd be able to with- stand it. It was one aftemoOTi in the winter— late. His wife had sent him to my house with a message, and we'd been having tea together. There was a fire burmng, and we'd been sitting in the half-Ught. It wasn't tiU he got up to go away that— that something came over us both. ... It was sudden and electric— I'd never known .-x-i • ; ii THE LIFTED VEIL thing (rf the sort before. I'd never been in love witt any one— not teaUy. It didn't matter to me then that the man was some one I had no right to love— that he was another woman's husband. Nothing would have mattered to me, not if it was to be death the next moment. He tossed me; we kissed each other. It was-it was like a Jnamage-* marriage far more real than my real mar- nage. ... It was two years figo." "And since then — ?" "That's what I want to talk to you about. You see, It was this way. For the first year we lived in a kind of heaven. The secrecy and the deceit didn't matter to «thw of us. We often talked about that side of it, and SMd how strange it was that there should be people in the world who'd condemn us. It didn't seem wrong to us- it seemed right— and natural." ' " iTiat kind of Ue is often told by sin, but it can't keen It up." *^ She drew a sharp, audible breath, but controUed heiself sufficiently to say: "It didn't keep it up with u»-what- ever it was. I think it was he who felt it first." "The man ctften does." "I remember that it was toward the end of the first year that I began to see— or rather to feel— that he hadn't his own mner support, as at first. When he came to see me he vras often grave and depressed. He began to be worried, too, for fear his wife should find out." "Didn't he want her to find out— and set hiii free?" "No; neither of us wanted that. I don't kno v why, exactly, but we preferred the situation as it was If I couldn't hold him in that way I would rather have let him go. "And couldn't you hold him?" 13 THE LIFTED VEIL "The question never rose. Before the year was past I began to have the same misgivings as he. It wasn't that I regretted anything. I'm not sure that I regret anything now. But— but I began again to see things as other people see them, and— and to be worried. From being worried I became unhappy, and from being un- happy — " " Yf" ' 've become repentant. Is that it?" "I don't know what repentance is. It's what I want you to tell me." "Repentance is being suflfidently sorry for what one has done to give it up." " If that's all it is, then— then I suppose I'm repentant. I've-^we've— given it up." "Since when?" " More than six months ago. We meet— we have to— " Does that mean that you don't care about each other any more?" Again he heard the hard-drawn breath. ' I don t know what he feels for me. What I feel for him is chiefly— is chiefly pity. He's not happy; and yet he has to act as if he was." , . "That is, he has to keep up the comedy of loving his wife when he doesn't." "And never did. If you knew them you d see how that could happen, and neither of them be to blame— or not much." ... 1. *i, "Possibly; and yet we're less concerned with them tnan with you. Now that you've told me so much, may I ask you still another question? What is it exactly that you want me to explain?" She considered this. The room was now so dim that 13 THE LIFTED VEIL behind her. "I ,^Tff^ ^'^ ^ * bookcase "Admitting thai ZIZ^Ti^l'" *^ "^^"^ "* "-*• to.the word, what wiu'Ct;;,"'dX^.^'"'"^^- • aS^ .^ " y«« want it to do for yoj^ ::;nt/o^^T^„^^— ^-hcestin^tion. .,« can't of coui^, blot out the facts " Then what can it do?" "mriSr ?"" '^'^^ significance." _ wnat kmd of significance?" gJ-Z,T' them the oc^on of your turning to ''But I'm not sure that I am " He aUowed h^^^Z'^Z^^T"^^ beunhappy." What ,-. turning to qS?^ , °''^ ^ ^^ '^i- going to church.?'^ "^^ ^^ ^' l^t- "Is it Mly°;eSrgol'SH'". T"^ '^"'^ *° <^° with it. rfwrch. Ican'tputrvt^ ^°*^^'^°°«^«-goto n>ore than I canTatKr^^'^^*'"*°^^^wonls%ny give you a clue tTtrat""^ t^° 7^ '^'' ^* I -n' perhaps Sist of all thf f™;l- ^ Turmng to God is G -pened so fast that when she spoke hei voice seemed to come to him out of dark- ness. "If I did, should I become good enough, let us say, to— :to marry again?" »5 1' THE LIFTED VEIL ™?h.*^''*^*°'^'^'*P'y- "There's also something ^^^,, Testament which says: 'If any man beto Chnst he IS a new creature. Old things have passed away ^^]^''^' ^thatteU^hT;^' "Not exactly; I'm askings" "You mustn't ask too much at once. In the life we're ^dei^gwetakebutonestepatatime. Havingta^^ that to the best of our ability, we see the next one." Then suppose I put it in this way; If a man were to Mk me to marry ,hm^ should I be fi^ to accept him- without telhng him what I had done?" Efe spoke with some fervor. "If you're repenting^- ortey:^ to repent-^.n order to be good enough to ma^r ^am, let me teU you now that you won't do it. You must of God. The only motive for repentance is to put one- self mto hannony with Good. In proportion as you do ttat you receive good. Questions are answered and dif- nculties are smoothed away." She put her inquiry into stiU another form. "And sud- posethat were to happen, should I be justified ii. lettine a good mac make me his wife?" "You'd know that >(rhen the situation arose" He ^rf.^_oa a sudden impulse. "The situation hasn't arisen. "No. I'm only wondering. Imerely want to get back —and be what I was before." T^ere was a sudden tenderness in his voice as he said- When you want to be better than you were before you'U accomphsh something. I don't think you will tiU then " As she rose he foUowed her example, though he re- maoned standmg at his desk. i6 THE LIFTED VEIL "Thank you." she said, simply. "I'll go now. I think I understand what you mean. Perhaps some day I may find a way to let you know that I've profited by what you've told me. Good-by — and thank you again." "Shall I show you to the door?" "No; please don't. I know the way. Good-by; good- by." Peering into the darkness, he could barely see that she passed swiftly and almost silently into the hall, though he remained standing and listening till he heard the street door close behind her. I 1 f i^ CHAPTER II 'TO this incident there was no sequel in Bainbridge's A He for neariy a year and a half . What the occurrence did for him fiist of all was to show hun ttat even in New York there were people l^Z^l-'^t'^'f^^ for some sort of spiritual ^^. ft gave him. therefore, a zest in his work which was lackine before and a sense of being useful. When his heart was hMvy It renewed his courage to think that he r ^-ht be ^T^^'^l°" ^^"^ '^^ ^ "° °"« ^ t° P<»«t the way When his pteachmg tended to be lifeless, it added fire to bs words to remember that the unknown woman might be hstemng. Where there was work to be done he easjiy found hmiself at home, and so ceased to pine, escept at long-separated intervals, for Boston. That be should think of his veiled visitor was natural Dunng the weeks immediately foUowing their conversa- faon he often fancied he saw hei-in the street, in shops, n hotels, m church. He associated with her any fa^ that caught his attention, any tall, gUding form. Of her v^oe he had hardly a recollection. Her speech had been, perhaps purposely, kept so low that his ear retained no more than the audible utterancr of words. And yet as time went on his imagination dwelt on her less and less. The impossibility of recognition was an element m this detachment, while new experienpes of x8 THE LIFTED VEIL interest thrust into the background the memory of minutes of which the haunting power was chiefly in their mystery. He b^an to make friends. Among the people of St. Mary Magdalen's he discovered, more or less below the stirface, a degree ci quiet, well-organized social cohesion of which even Massachusetts would not have been ashamed. In and through and under the city's turmoil he found that family life which n nther the nation nor the world could do without, and with which he was glad to connect himself. It was not so obvious as it' often was elsewhere, and yet could be extracted from the formless mass, like radium from pitchblende. With some slight surprise he learned that there were people in New York who cared for the same things as himself, and that in the crowded spaces of Manhattan neither civilization nor Christianity was quite submerged by the htmian tidal wave. With that perception his interest first in this little circle and then in that began to expand. He dined out a good deal; he j(»ned one or two clubs. With an individual or a family here and there he farmed sym- pathetic affiliations or ties of friendship. There were two or three houses, without marriageable daughters, to which he could turn when, for emotional reasons or because of fatigue, he specially needed a refuge. He had thus all but foi^ottcn the one strikmg incident of his first year in New York when it was recalled to him. As it was a Saturday morning, he was again in his study, preparing his sermon for the following day, when Mrs. Wedlock entered the room with a card. " The gintleman in the droring-room, sorr. He's the wan with the chin- whiskers that's been here twice already, only you was out." Taking the card, Bainbridge resid the vaguely familiar THE LIFTED VEIL cc^ there was . farther iwcriptian. "Mont«al." ^ • number to indicate a house in Sherbrooke Streit The nan« and address drove aU thought Tsam- tadgessennon from his mind. "He mu^ waS to^ thmk of while he directed Mrs. Wedlock to conduiTfte stranger from the adjoining ixxan. «»«»«»«« the T^ new-comer proved to be a handsome man, very correctly dr«ssed. perhaps in the early forUes, and th^ ^,^ *«» y«« «nior to Bainbridge hSsS ^ ^ S! '".^^l*- r^* P~P«ti<»*te brLth of shodd^ he brought with him suggestions of the club, the^ ««irse. and, as Bainbridge was to learn, the bani.wX fs-r mustache which did not conceal a wod h«m™l^ whTn r ^^^"^ '^ ^^ ''hen he spoke or when any one spoke to him. his expression was le^ Z ^^T ^ °' '-^-I-^ting teyishTesT I^ h«ght slender, clean-shaven, and asceUc. he was as the SSs^or"^*^*^'"^- i'--.howev;^: friT °°.^*^P of evil on .-ts comeliness, and much to conunend Its good looks. Toil had left no .^1? Z^Te'^sT^'f^'^u'"^'''^- It^-nsuo^i^i was of the Anglc^Saxon brand, clean and sympathetic A cnbc bomid to find fault might have compaSC^ to a magmficent building, full of empty, sw^and ^ ^ftJ^:^"'^ """^ "'"" ^ y«* shelter^ 'a.ythS. Betwe«i two men so obviously of the same traditioS t fT??^ ^"^ ^*^°"' awkwardness. They^d n^ Sd~^ sit do,^. for the Canadian iLiSt ' Bambndge an envelope sealed, but without address. 30 THE LIFTED VEIL " I'm asked," he expluned, " to beg you to look at this." The voice was English, with that indefinable qtiality that betokens the man of the world. Bainbridge biuke the seal, and read, standing: I am the woman who came to you eighteen months ago. Do you remember? If so, will you be good enough to tell the bearer what I told you then? I have tried to do so, but I find I cannot. Either the right words will not come out or he does not understand. I have told him, therefore, to listen to you — and go away or come back, as he judges best. As you will probably know his name it will be easy for you, if you choose, to learn mine; but I trust you. I said that some day I might find a way to let you know that I had profited by your words, and I think I can do it now. Bainbridge read these lines a second time and a third. It was necessary for him to collect his thoughts and make sure of his connection with the incident to which the writing referred. Many women had come to him, on one errand or another, within the past year <»^ «<> thiak infonn you thaVT^'t^STtJ! ^^ '*■ "^ "^^t to Nothing— cert^y." Well, then— uncertainly >" "Still — nothing." I m afraid I don't see that, sir" Bambndge endeavored to explain "A io^ ^-.i to me-about a year and a b^lZ^ , ^ ^^ ^ *™e THE LIFTED VEIL «n^ my diflerenoe. for the rowon that the coinmmrica- ''k"V'''"° ^^ ^'"'^ ^"^ 5^ pennusiott-" T ^in -i- M^l!™^^ "^^ ^^ guaranteed than it is IstmcouldntavaUmysdfofit. Whatever there is to be made known must lie between you and her " ^X.'^ her to n«ny „e," the stranger said. "I inferred that it was something like that " ^ I asked her once befoi^years ago-but she refused The inwherent story Bainbridge had heard from her own hps began to come back to him. ml^ ^2, ^^J^" I "««i«d some one else; but Z^M^I 7^. •"" ^^^ ''^ '^ the next year. 3t^tt^ • *r' /°^*««P-<*°f aminut.the4.e- dS ""P^°"l««' hand«»ne face grew grave, but the cloud passed and the eyes glinted when he began to speak agam. "Now that she's free^nd Trnfi^ I ve come back to hei-^th the result that she's given me this letter to you." . »"=»K»ven And no other answer .'" "No other answer as yet." "Then when you see her again will you teU her that I m sorry, but that I've nothing to say?" "You have something to say, if you'll only say it " There was a tension in the minute which made it ^ssjble for the glances of the two to meet in a sSing regard, without self-consciousness on either side. What Bambndge saw was a man accustomed to be obeyed; SltlhSo^^' '' '^^*^- «« --^ »3 THE LIFTED VEIL •» you thought of t4^ '^ ^^P'"""- Have we ca^-t altogether get awa/fi:^".^ *"'' '^"^ "'"^ .et a^'^aJIT Sr ^° "^'^^ '^' ' -'' altogether ml'Zl '2c?oM:r*"''/°'''"^ whateve^fron, she Itr^e S::. °^ ^'^^^ ^ --* '--. >-* o^ wh. "Then she's at Uberty to teU you. As it « «n. „f ^ thmgs strikes n>e as wise. It i ^ l^t^^thlT" you not to pr^ the matter further or for h^tn f f w^i 1 sna n t attempt to go mto. I was 24 THE LIFTED VEIL the elder of the two xns, and sat :.eded my father in the business. He was frerdy in a : i^ way of doing things when the expansion ct Canada, wjich b^an in the middle nineties, gave him further openings. He was a philan- thropic, public-spirited man, not unknown in the United States—" "I recognized your name, without having anything exact to connect with it." "That is, you recognized my father's name. He was created first a K. C. B. and afterward a baronet by Queen Victoria, not long before she died. That's how it happens that I've a handle to my name, when I've done nothing to deserve it. But it's not wholly to the point. What I want you to see is that I can give my wife a good position —one in which she'd have, within reason, brilliant opportunities." "I can quite understand that." "And," he pursued, not wholly with ease, "just as I like to feel that the position is good enough for her, so I want to be sure that— you mustn't think me fatuous m- an ass!— I'm not a very young man any longer and my situation as head of the family obliges me to think of it ! — so I want to be sure— to be awfully crude and put it into very plain language!— that she's good enough for the position. Do you see?" He had reddened as he continued to speak, though Bain- bridge was too deeply interested to notice it. "Wouldn't that depend to some extent on what you mean by good ? and good enough?" "What does any one mean? I suppose I'm thinking of the usual thing." ^ "The usual thing," Bainbridge repeated, ponderingly, "doesn't take us very far, does it?" 3 aj THE LIFTED VEIL ^ f«r as I need *<* 80, why isn't "H ifs enough?" , . I '"saa nothing abstruse or far frt^j,»^ the^dent^, -« -U thegoTdS^S^"'-"°'"'°- ^ -^what-^f?^P;'J^-this. -natis., to stand by her as, inX Z^^ f T^ ^ ^ °"ght *:^d want her to ^t^dty ^ Jtl^r^*--" ^ much si^phfiSrlhe: we^C;^ *^^f ''«»-- very ornotn^ustbeforyoutodedL!; ^«*« y°>» obey it A^ the banker „«e=aowly to his feet he said, dryly THE LIFTED VEIL n • !j. * ^ ^"^ ^y ^^ «Mon as that" Bambndge leaned back in his chair, his head against th. o^on^garing up at this splendid sanSf oTXLSi woman in vam seemed scarcely credible. VaZlv^t c^e back to Wm that his veiled visitor b^d c^«se5 insisted. ... But aloud he said ouietlv "Tu^ i you change your mental basis I ^ ';ej£lv^ you won't marrv her— anrf ti,=* -t^ j ^' ^ "^* if It wasn't true you'd teU me." Bainbridge answered as coldlv and ,~.i^i,. i.- S^^C'^^^^^^"'^''^°"'^°°"«'>ttoLwan 2^'LoS:e'=:^Ztr^irs---^^the ^.^ere was always a glow. be^^radiS"^ Se'alS^ anythmg for a woman, if it's of the right sort-if ^Z a; pff THE LIFTED VEIL enough and strong enough and true enoueh. U «« yourself can supply that-" ^^ " ^^ di^"*k£dV^'" ^ -"y '-« - i«^-J«^ of the or. or;rX'SS^ *°'^'*°^*^«^'^*--^^'^ The Canadian glared at the speaker of these worfs as a s^d^ ' ?f ^^ ^' ^ "«•« °- -ho dares to with! ^^^ . "! ""^ '^^"^'°° °f °»«^' « the manner in which he turned away and strode toward the hST^ stcS^wth f ■ T^^ ^"l"^"^ ^ ^^t *° the f„,nt door, ^ood with his hand on the knob. " Unfortunately I cat^ You re in a place m which a nmn must act entirely for hmiself I would only beg you not to foiget the redLm^ mg quahty that belongs to the higher iZi of L^ The other man had by this time resumed the mamier toentiona^mtercourse. 'Tmafiaid I can'tg^^ the fine pomts." he said, with a wistful smile. "If I'm Z ruUl^th^'lT^*"^""^---- All tie si? ZT" "n^h ""^^ r T '^^■" H« held out hi land. Good-by-and thank you. If we ever meet srirn.?"^^^^-^--^^'^^"^^^^^ door that If I should find you married I shouktaVknow the S^^'rw^t^^^'^he began to descend me steps. I had foi^ottsn that." CHAPTER in /^NCE more the curtain was rung down on the drama ^^ of which Bainbridge had taken part in but two small scenes. Another year and a half went by, bringing him to the age of thirty-three, before he was obliged to recur to it. Once more, too, the pressure of small happenings had almost crowded both incidents from his memory. He did not, of course, forget the coming to him either of the veiled woman or of Sir Malcohn Grant, but he forgot, partially, what they had told him. Many people were beginning to seek him with their confidences, financial, domestic, religious, and in the course of time one such event melted into another. He made no notes, as a doctor of the names and symptoms of his patients, and as a matter of fact was only too glad to let the details of perplexity and care pass into that mental limbo which was all but oblivion. When the same person came to him the second time he was generally able to take up the narrative where it had been dropped; but, as a rule, one man's troubles pushed another's from his mmi\^ till a need arose for going back to them. Malcolm Grant became to him, therefore, but a dim Herculean Scotch-Canadian with whom he had once had a few minutes of intimate talk. At long intervals he saw his name in the papers, as being at one or another of the New York hotels, or as the head of a house taking part in 29 it1i# THE LIFTED VEIL some lai^ge enterprise in Canada, Cuba, or SouLa America. Once or twice, in conversation with Canadians whom he chanced to meet, it occurred to him to ask if the baronet had married, but he repressed the inquiry as verging too closely on mere curiosity. He speculated now and then on what might have happened between Grant and the woman after the former had left his door; but as far as he was able to control his thoughts, he kept himself fromdoing even that. He made it a point of honor to believe that a man in his position should give himself wholly for the moment to the sins and sorrows that were being aired, and then dismiss all recollection of them from his mind. He found that in proportion as he could put these secrets away till it became necessary to take them up again he won peace for himself and ease of manner for his con- fidants, when he met them again. Finding himself useful, he saw the city inwhich he labored with more and more sympathetic eyes. The rush, the din, the brutality grew incidental. His parish, of which he was assistant rector, became a little world in itself, in which he was brought into contact with the whole round of human nature in epitome. If yt>u know New York you must know St. Mary Magdalen's — the quaint, dumpy, architecturally mon- strous, sentinientally attractive, red-brick church with Doric brownstone portico, between Forty-seventh and Forty-eighth streets, on the right-hand side as you go toward the Park. Erected in the days when there was not too much money to spend on it, it is now adorned with costly offerings wherever the authorities can put them. Its bronze doors have been copied from those of the baptistry in Florence, its stained-glasi? windows from Chartres and Bourges, its choir-stalis from Lincoln, 30 THE LIFTED VEIL its Teredos from Canterbury, its pulpit from Cologne. Merely to go round it is to make a miniature grand tour. To read the names of the owners of the pews, inscribed on little brass-framed cards on the desks for books of de- votion, is to come close to people of the first distinction. Something of their personalities seems to linger in these consecrated seats, though they themselves may be as far away as Deauville, Lenox, or England. Up the aisles have marched many of New York's most historic brides, now wearing coronets and adorning ch&teaux and castles. The vested choir is the best and most expensive in the country; the organist was tempted away by an astonish- ing salary from a work he liked better at Wells. All that is high-priced and handsome is provided at St. Mary Magdalen's and offered to the public free of charge. Old Doctor Galloway, the rector, had been responsible for this elaboration, in which Bainbridge tried to see an instrument ready to his hand. In mere ecclesiastical dash and splash it had been his task to discover a soul, and indeed he had been selected for that purpose. "You see," Doctor Galloway explained, at tlieir first interview in Boston, " I'm an organizer. Primarily I'm a man of business. When Mannering left and I succeeded him, thirty-odd years ago, there was a good deal at loose ends. Now everything's shipshape, and we've all the money we want. But what we haven't got is the thing for v^hich this well-equipped institution has been planned and supported. As far as that goes, St. Mary Magdalen's is a barren fig-tree. New York's as rich a field for it as any heathen land, and yet it's out of my line to give. You'd find me as much in need of it as any one." Bainbridge, who was then but twenty-nine, looked at the . leonine white head in dismay. No lieutenant who had 31 THE LIFTED VEIL ^H*^ ^uJ^ to c«ne and oonmumd anamy n>an replied. What I'm looking for is some one who'll gmw up to the work, lo that by the time^: ^^"^ ^t he U know its ins and outs. You can't- hr,„„ I^^ Z^Zn'^Z^ 1 ^ ^^^- ^ VorTSi expect hmi to find the methods used in *»,= «„ i adapted to the needs of t^fZ.r^cT^u^^'Z country is not national so muA as it's^ wT're^ ^d"^"" °2"'\"''^°P^ "^-b^^' «^ with ite L"l«" and passwords^ New York has them, just like bSiTS tL^.rerSSyou^%-'S'^-'-- o.sc°MSi-?^^ts*-^:.-:rr 5-g m parallel lines, each superimposed"^ Z TlZ Fust there was the original bedixxJc of old Ne^ S ^.«^<«tly of g«at wealth, who owned the SJ^J used them but spasmodicaUy. Above them w^ to be fmmd people of thesameantecedents but ofmoiTmodlS ^. Wee the Endsldghs. the Janx>tts. .the ^^l" and the Palhsers. who habitually Uved in New YorkTd ^^ the workings of the parish on tClt^i^f Above them, but independent of them was the i™rif ^ houses whidi durmg ten years had spnmg up between Forty-second Street and the southem™of the pTk AW *^. again, numerous enough to be'no^K^i the variety of worshiper that only America could f ur^ who attended St. Maiy MagJen's beSi^t ^t 32 THE LIFTED VEIL Fifth Avenue and withii its walls they rubbed elbows with people of whom otherwise they knew nothing but the names and the scendals. On the s«irface of all was the mere human dust, the sight-seers, the passers of a month or a day, who, finding themselves with a Stmday or two to spend in New York, took in this show as they took in other shows, coming to hear the music and watch the great people at prayer — and seeing chiefly one an- other. And in and out among them all, a few from one class and a few from another, were scattered those kindly, honest, and consecrated souls who stood for what is best in human life and made all the effort and expense worth while. To his vestry, when he retiuTied, he spoke of the yoimg man as no abler and no more energetic than many another young man. His recommendation was that he had spiritual i^ 'sight; he had that endowment without which, in the ministry, no other endowment has value, of com- mimicable goodness, '^^en it was added that the young fellow was of clean, sympathetic appearance, of a good Boston family, and had private means, it seemed to the worthy professional and business men who governed St. Mary Magdalen's that they had discovered the teacher of whom they were in need, however little they bound themselves to follow his example. All that having been four years earlier, Bainbridge found that little by little the indications given him were fulfilled, and had been able to "shake down." Dif- ficult as the latter process had been, he had lived through it with success. He was happy, therefore, in his work, while the appeal which people of all kinds and characters made to him for counsel established that conviction — illusoiy, perhpps — of being essaitial to his task, which 33 \m ^ THE LIFTED VEIL «*•« for enth-Miaam in fnlfiffinff it it thonmghly content when aiwSli "« '^^ «ver or that woman's OHw-T!!^*- This man's ms P«tcity having S^,ri!?r"^T'^«^- T^e but the s^all^TZ "^"■'^ « home to him, comic. «xiU. m^^^^d e^LT ^°^' '««^<=' -^so^S::rroS^r^Sk-^-'-^- of stumbling to every semn^r^^ '*'=*"« * *t°ne way. and smfled within™^ ^1?^ ^ '" ** «^«^ tention of being married^ ^'^ "° "^^"ite m- the rector's daufh^nf;h^r" *° ^"^ ^^"'"'^y. opinion besto JS i^ Z^^ ~°^"^ "^ P-^'chial giris he knew. ^'^ *^ '^'^ °^ °f the sweetest Her smile was a^^L^ f^^r"'* ''^ ''^ ^**«^- toward Fifth Aven J ^ interrupting his course -t to remind IXt ^1j^ » «--« "I i-t talline ' -tto-r^r^X^^l/ff»^« =^^i^^ ^t^Srve^^BHrP--- it's only for five mSs^t ^T !°°'' '" °" ••«■• ^ •^T-ingupK.rSrTliS^''^*'''^- ^■'n ^a^SgtTSfXt ^it' wa^* r ""■ *— he was -swaspr.bablyX;:;^.-^„f-^-^ 34 a/ i THE LIFTED VEIL the crisp autumn morning had given her a color for which no word in the language and no tint in the painter'g palette was precisely adequate. She must now, he reckoned, be twenty-six, as she had been twenty-two the year of his coming to New York. In refinement she was a lady to the finger-tips, nor did she lack a demure prettinees, behind which there was a dash of fiw. She had been abroad during most of his first two years at St. Mary Magdalen's, but he had remarked that since her return she had adopted, as far as he was concerned, a policy of keep- ing out of sight. That this withdrawal had anything to do with himself personally it had never occurred to him to think, nor did it so ocaur now. It only led him to say, after glancing at his engagement-book and promis- ing to look in at Miss Higgins's, "Where have you been this long time and why does one never see you?" Her answer was delivered with a scornful little smile and a toss of the head which might have been a mask for shyness rather than an expression of disdain. "That depends on whom you mean by one. Some people see me." "I never do — or rarely." "That's because you're not in the places where I am. But I assure you I don't become invisible." "Then I shall count on you to look after me at Miss Higgins's this afternoon," he called after her, as she ran up the steps. "Oh, poor Miss HigginsI" she threw over her shoulder. "If you'll only ccsne I'll do anything." And yet when he arrived at Miss Higgins's apartment, in a small residential hotel between Fifth and Sxtb avenues, Mary Galloway didn't give him so much as a glance. Helping the hostess, serving tea, introducing 35 1*1 I! r THE LIFTED VEIL guette, moving hither and yon through the crowded tiny parior, m which it was difficult to stir or to breathe, she seemed unaware that he was in the room. Miss Higgins herself, a taU, gaunt woman, suggesting an ostrich meta- morphosed mto human form, was so arch as to mention her m the act of shaking hands with him. "Oh,Mr.Bainbridge! So flattered, I'm sure! So good of you to have come! And Mary wiU be so pleased She s helped me so much that it's really her party more than mme. So sweet, she is. You can see her now talkmg to old Mrs. Colfax-just there-with the oUve- green hat. . . . Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Jarrott? So flattered, I'm sure. So good of you to have come! Mrs Jarrott, do you know Mr. Bainbridge? ... Oh how do you do, Mrs. Palliser? So flattered, I'm sure, 'so good of you to have come. Mrs. Palliser, do you know Mr Bambndge? . . . Oh,how do you do, Mrs. Mortimer. . " With the mechanical repetition of a doU wound up to say so many words and make so many smiling grimaces Miss Higgins went on with the task of welcoming her guests, whUe Bainbridge found himself slowly swirled away, hke a plum in a boiling pudding, in company with the woman he knew best in New York. "So you're here!" Mrs. Palliser gasped. "Well, for pitys sake! More of Mary's doings, I suppose. If she hadn t dragged me in by the hair of my head Miss Hig- gins wouldn't have seen so much as my shadow The people look like job lots at an auction," she whispered Do come over into that comer with the httle red sofa behmd the pahns, and let us sit down." Ben^th the high yapping of voices, which, if you listened to it consciously, became persistent, pitiless, and mfemal. Mrs. Palliser could make herself heard by soeak- 36 *^ THE LIFTED VEIL ing in a low and perfectly natuial tone. She was the daughter of Charlie Endsleigh, a pioneer in developing the upper reaches of Fifth Avenue, from whom she had in- herited her not inconsiderable fortune. As an Endsleigh she was related to the Colfaxes, the Jarrotts, and the Wrenns, which placed her in that circle in New York identified with religion, education, and philanthropy. The fact posed her solidly on ground on which she had authority. Authority was written on her face and figure, and translated in her manners and her tone of voice. She was invariably mentioned as a fine-looking woman, being tall and statuesque, with fairly good features and a slight inclination to be florid. Moreover, she was breezy, high-ten^jered, and imperious. She was outspoken, too, with the frankness of one who has a right to express her opinion. Bainbridge listened with amusement as from the vantage-point of the sofa in the comer she denounced the company. "In all my life I've never looked at such a crew. There are not more than six people whom I know — ^whom any- body knows — and the six are my own relations. Why, Mary Galloway should have got us here I can't imagine to save my soul. Why should any one be here? and why should a person like Miss Higgins want to give a party? Can't the good woman see that her very existence is matter of easy-going social tolerance, and keep herself to the backgrotmd where she belongs?" On a question or two from Bainbridge, who knew Miss Higgins only as a figure flitting in and out of St. Mary Magdalen's, especially at important weddings and funerals, Mrs. Palliser accounted for her hostess with some detail. The clergyman listened, for the reason that he 37 I THE LIFTED VEIL found it profitable to know aU he «..m i each of his parishion«r3*i. . ^^ '**« «*«« r«ip. For ^ M^ HiS^* '^^ *««>tion to a footing in New York fl Z.^T' ™**"' *° '"ep being. like any oZ^^^SnlSgtir.' "^ caresandheartaches.towhSS^^'*'^ "^^ possibly be useful. ^^ *™* occasion Miss Higgins, according to Mr-j Poll- „ v ^ ««lly been "in sodetv " but ff u^' '^ °^« been out of it. ^1^ if^^^\?*^ '^^^ «^y which every one to whto Zl. „^ «>«gs-things to honies. No one kn^w^ wC^ *"^«^ "^ ^ Higgins beyond the fL^t J^V"^ "'^^ *° ^iss geneiaUyiavited It^,^u ^ * °«»sions she was too far to g^^ to Si J^r!,*^ **^ the memory when old pfLSi w"^"^ f *■* °^<^'"« ^hZ subsid^r!^e^^'*,««'«"'l^e atidal wave, had Higgins landi a^d L^d** ^ t."'^; '^^^ ^- shore she had remained^fTi^u-"'* *°^- ^ the -ever sUppin, SS; ^^t^*"^ "P ^ '-^- b"t con£urto"e^S*!f^?n^';^- her." M.. PalHser her. in the way Wre J^^ S^l*'^ '* ^ *° ^'°8 at certain hou^ of tt7e could tell him the name of a lady of 46 THE LIFTED VEIL nmailcable dictinctioa who had entered Mils Higgiiis's apartment just as he himsdf had come away from it. Miss Galloway reflected, mentioning first one and then another, eadi of whom he set aside in turn as already a personal acquaintance. It was not till he described the oostume — ^the dark-brown velvet, the dark-brown plumes, shadi ng , as he remembered them, into green at the tips, with a green lining to the coat that fell slightly open as she moved — it was not till then that Miss Galloway nodded and said, in a low voice: "Why, that was Mr?. Gildersleeve. Don't you know her? How strange! She's just come back froca abroad. She's — she's sitting next to you." Bainbridge remembered afterward that his feeling was like that of the spectator of a play at the moment when the outer asbestos curtain begins to rise. The time of sitting and doing nothing was coming to an end. There was a sense of ap{»oaching drama in the mental air. In the action he would have a part, if only that of an impassioned looker-on. "She's a great friend of Maggie's," Miss Galloway con- tinued to whisper, "and I believe a kind of cousin. When I have an opportunity I'll introduce you." He turned slightly, getting a glimpse of a thin, graceful arm resting lightly on the table, with emeralds and diamonds in the bracelet on the wrist, and emeralds and diamonds in the rings on the fingers of a slender white hand. The dress was of green and silver, in which there were shadows and shimmerings as in a woodland summer lake, while more emeralds and diamonds starred the chain that hung round the slim neck and descended below the d&x>lletage. The dark hair was worn in a knot of the simpleet fashicm, but a comb with an edge of diamonds 47 THE LIFTED VEIL row with a rim Uke a tiara. What he noticed in par* ticular was the decided manner in which she turned to Endsleigh Jarrott, as if anxious to ignore himself. "But she'U have to speak to me soon," he reflected, when Mary Galloway had been claimed by Reginald Pole, who sat on her right. With the fixed rule of dinnerw party etiquette to support him. he knew he could afford to wait. But she took no notice of his silence and isolation. All round the brilliant oval of flowers and lights, of pon»- lain and glass and silver, about which twenty persons were seated, there was eagerness and animation, while he was excluded from intercourse on either side. Once or twice Mary Galloway endeavored to draw him into the con- versation between Reggie Pole and herself, but with little success. As a matter of fact, he preferred to sit waiting and dumb wh^e his eyes sought the curve of the shoulder so persistently turned away, and the line which was all he could see of the carefully averted cheek. But his reward came at last. With a sudden lull in the talk Endsleigh Jarrott spoke to the lady on his left, so that the face of which Bainhridge had not yet obtained a glimpse moved slowly into profile. It was a pure pro- file, high-bred and delicate, with the hair simply parted in the middle, waving over and away from the brows. Nevertheless, she continued to ignore him by smiling across the table and exchanging remarks with Harvey Colfax and Mary P 'e, who sat opposite; but Misa Galloway was watching for her chance. "Clorinda, I want you to know Mr. Bainbridge. He's a great friend of Maggie's and Leslie's." Slowly, reluctantly, and under compulsion she turned and looked at him. He remembered afterward that her ,48 4 THE LIFTED VEIL Mipi M ri oo was as fuU of undeci(dwrBble meanings as a page of a book printed in an unknown tongue. "So we've met at last," he said, easily. "Yes, at last," she echoed. "I suppose it had to happen ■one time." "The wolider is that it wasn't long ago." Her reply was faint. "Yes, I suppose so." "Leslie and Maggie speak of you so often," he laughed, "that I'd b^fun to think of you as a fictitious character a sort of invisible companion such as children talk about." The shadow in her eyes seemed to him like that which comes across a pool when a cloud passes overhead. " I've been a good deal abroad." She added, before he could respond to this, "I shouldn't have come home now if war hadn't broken out." "Do you like it so much over there?" "It isn't altogether a matter of liking. I've— Fve other things to think of. Besides, I've lived so much in England and Prance that I'm at heme in those countries —and in Italy." "But more at home here?" She evaded this question. "If I had been able to do any good I should have stayed in Paris. I wanted to. It was dreadful to be told by every one that there was nothing I could do, when so much needed to be done - and to know they were right" "Why were they right?" "For the reason they gave— that there was nothing I could do. I couldn't nurse or sew or undertake anything that some one else wouldn't have done better." Hfir voice became both eager and wistful, as she went on, "Tell me, how do people set about doing good?" He was so absorbed in noting that quality in her face 49 THE LIFTED VEIL which WM either txptrieact or aomiw that he mold have made soma atupid p^ if the mt^ject hadn't bete one he had long ago thooc^t out. "By Uving," he answered, mcdianically, as he helped hinuelf to some, thing, while scarcely taldng his eyes from hen. "I don't Icnow that there is any other way." "I don't think you understand me—" "Oh yes, I do. But people don't start out to do good as they might to take singing-lessons or do parlor tricks. You can't say I'll do good from ten to twelve on Tuesday and from two to four on Friday. Fundamentally, it isn't a question of how we act, but of what we aw." "Yes, that's like what you said before—" "Before? When?" he asked, quickly. She recovered herself without much display cf coafu- sion. "I've heard you preach— not often— but a few times. You said something like it then." "Did I? Very likely. I feel rather strongly that it's something we should all understand— and tb^ veiy few of us do." The inclination of her head reminded him of nothing so much as that of a lily on its stalk. "And yet it seems to me that if you pushed that theory far enough you'd ptrt an end to all the good work that's being dome in the way of social service — " He laus^ed. "Social service, as it's called, doesn't often amount to much— at least a large part of it. It's restless and mechanical and not thorough. I'm afraid it's no more than a fad of the day that will go out of fashion like other fads. I've nothing against it, further than that, in the majority of cases, it ranks with the attempt to grow plants by electric Ugbt instead of in the sundiine." SO THE LIFTED VEIL "Thea «4iat am one do for othen— ?" "Nothing thAt one han't done flnt of all for ooewU— or tried to do. A man caa't love another as himaelf untfl he has first c( all learned to love himself; and he doesn't love himself tmtil he has begun to moke of him— if the best thing possible." " In that case very few people wotild love themselve»— " "Very few people do. What we so often put down as sdf-love is self-hati*d, in ite strict analysis. Rightly to love ourselves is a beautiful thing which leads to our rightly loving others. My point is that we can't ri^tly love others till we know how rightly to love ourselves." "So that you'd say that the reason viby I'm so useless is that—" "No; wait," he laughed. "I dco't my yoa'n use- less-" "But it's what I'm telling you." "And I don't necessarily agree. It doesn't follow that because you couldn't do war work yoa can't do anything at aU." "ThenwAofcanldo?" "You can hardly eitpect me to tdl yon that without knowing you better. I'm speaking to yon for the first time in my life — " She interrupted, hastily: "If you could only;J»«f swne- thing for me t(^ do — either in your church or elsewhere!" "I've never seen that there was much good in that sort of thing. Believe me, the rally enduring and useful work is what one does for oneself— in its ertension outward. When you've got yourself ready you won't have to look far to find an opportunity; but you've got to get yooisdf ready first. Generally speaking, I think, we turn our- sdves oa to o&er peogSs's needs because we don't want SI It-. THE LIFTED VEIL to tadde our own; and yrbm we're driven to see tiie futaty of t!»t ojurse WB give tip trying to do anything." "And yet my M*ole object is not to think of myself at all. If I could onfy forget myself—" V "i^?**"* "*''* as wen try to forget the ground, or a bird the air. Oneself is the most interesting of all sub- jecte-and one of the most Intimate. We can get away bom everything but that; and since we can't get away from It, isn't it wise to make the best and the most of It I He was sony that just at this minute Endsleigh Jar- rott's good-natured red face could be seen peeping round her shoulder, with the question as to whether Mrs Gildersleeve had heard what had happened to his big machme when driven by a dnmken chauflEeur Bain- bndge listened to part of this adventure in the hope of recapturing his companion, but as the minutes went by without any such result he found himself forced back again on the society of Miss Galloway. With a pang he recorded the fact that his feeling at the change was like that of a man who returns to the humdrum of home after a strange and exciting journey. During the rest of dinner he talked little. He went so far as to drag in Reggie Pole, so as to keep Mary GaUoway engaged while he should be free to follow his ovra thoughts He wanted to register his impressicais of the last ten or fifteen minutes, to engrave them on his memory as ancient historians cut their inscriptions on rock. Without making the admission in so many words he felt this meeting to be one of the three or four notable events m his experience. It was to nothing said or done that this conviction was due, but to causes over and above his power of analysis. With no one else whom he had THE LIFTED VEIL ever met In the oommoo way« of godal life had he gone so •iirectly to the subjects that formed his chief preoca^Mi- tion. She had a need to discuss them similar to his own. She had a need to make use of them, too. though she was without a knowledge of thdr rules and principles. While It might be his part to help her to this knowledge, he was already aware dimly that his interest in her was essentially elementary and personaL Beyond intermittent remarks on trivial things he had no further speech with her till the ladies rose. Eventhen It was not he who spoke to her; it was she who apdks to him, turning as he drew back her chair. "I've been so elad to meet you. You've given me ideas that are new to me; but I don't understand them all. Perhaps some day we can have another talk." She smiled, too, a dim, far-away smile that was less on the lips than in her unquiet eyes. As if with an after- thought, she held out her hand. "I do hope we shall meet again." Mary Galloway also smiled, but he was so absorbed in watching the other woman's swan-like movements as she joined the defile of ladies, most of them in sweeping trains, that he scarcely noticed it. In the smoking-room he tried to attach himself to LesUe PalHser in order to talk of the new acquaintance he had been privil^^ed to make. But Leslie, who wasn't smoking himself , dodged about with a box of cigars in one hand and one of cigarettes in the other in such a way that it was impossible to nail him down. "Oh, Qorinda Gildersleeve," he responded, absently, when Bainbridge detained him a minute to force the sub- ject. "Yes, yes. . . . Saw that Ma^e had put you next to her. . . . Mighty nice woman. . . . Yes. yes." S3 rl THE LIFTED VEIL "She struck me as more than that," Bainbridge de> dared, in the hope of provoking discussion. But Leslie's lack of interest was apparent even when he said: "Oh, certainly. . . . Quite remarkaMe woman Great friend of ours. . . . Wonder you'd never met her before. . . . lives abroad a good deal. . . . See?" In the end Baiabridge found himself wedged in between Endsleigh Jarrott and Rodney Wrenn, listening vaguely to the tetter's account of how his mare had been stricken with the staggers, while he watched Leslie's restless move- ments about the room and wondered what ailed him. In many ways Leslie Palliser was his most intimate friend, certainly his most intimate friend in New York. They were nearly enough of an age to have known each other at Harvard, where Leslie had been a senior the year when Bainbridge had entered as freshman. Indeed, it had been Palliser's respect for the younger man, with whom he had maintained a touch-and-go acquaintanle through the years subsequent to the univer»ity,that had induced Dx. Galloway to look toward Boston when in need of an assistant. Leslie's own interest ir St. Mary Magdalen's, where he was now a member of the vestry, had begun en his marriage to masterful Maggie Endsleigh, whose family had long been ardent in the parish. There were people who wondered why Maggie had taken him, and others who marveled that he should have married her. To Bainbridge, on the contrary, they seemed made for each other, if for no other reason than their differences. Leslie had all the outer, exquisite finish his wife had not, with a dreamy, elusive qiiality which might have been the mark oi a poet rather than of a writer on pcditical economy, as he actually was. If there was a fault to be found with him on physical THE LIFTED VEIL gnwnds, it was that he was too perfect. A man had no b|j^ to be so handsome. It n«de him look, so Bak^ &±^1'^ "** ' ^P^- The features might have been modeled in por«dain; in the sweep anHp- Asplaced; m the droop of the long eydashes over R>maa- tic gray ey« there was languor and poetry and passion ^ail the emotional suggestions ^7 s.t ,^S fit^.,^ *i!?,^^"^''"««'- Evening dress fitted hmi as bark fits its stem, and his cmvars^ to 1«^°"k^ Ti* ** "^"^"^ '^ ^ °«*id When he aT^ ^°" ^'^^ ""^'^ <^"^' as he often did, and ?n^ T^' J^ "f^ '* "^ ^^ ^"^^ «=««»°i<= statistics and forecasts of new routes of trade from the lips of a Wattetm shepherd «• a jeutu premier. »» « • /•Poor I«Ue! Don't you think his good looks a« a Zfr^^. He tnes so hard to be taken seriously, and my husband says that he has just as much chance a« a^narytobetakenforac^e. What do y^ say?" Mrs^Endsle.gh Jarrott asked the question, as she asked «J1 questions, as if it were a burning one, and Bainbridge the only aathon^ m the world who could deal withT ^ey were seated now in tJie musioioom, where LesKe ITJ^f^mr^"^ ^^ ^^^- and had pt. ^ in the interval between two movements. Bainbridge v,as sorry to have to speak, for the doing so broke the spdl of st«n« d^mismto which the strange hannoni^Had tS hJrn. Smce it was necessary to respond, he merely said: ae seems to bear up under it." "Yes, ht bears up," the lady declared, quickly, "oer- haps better than poor Maggie does." ^ ^^'^'^ P^ As Leslie ceased speaking to Maiy GaBoway. who wBi 55 THE LIFTED VEIL sitting near the piano, and began on the minuet, it was impossible to say more; but Mrs. Jarrott's last words gave for an instant a new direction to Bainbridge's thoughts. In reality she was the one of his parishoners of whom he was somewhat afraid. He had sat down be- side her not from choice, but because on the entry of the men she had beckoned to him and made room on a settee against the waU. A Juno in white satin, with a skin which at forty-five was still as rich and as even as cream, she had a manner of appealing to any man who happened to be near her as if she hung on his opinion. Bainbridge had noticed in his own case that if she hung on his opin- ion it was in a way to involve it with hers, and often to impart a sense of indorsing some subtle calumny. But with the renewal of the strange harmonies he passed again into his strange dreams, especially as he had QorindaGildersleeve directly in his line of vision. Sea^ in a low chair ahnost in the center of the room, fanning herself slowly, her train shimmering about her feet, she stirred his imagination to the new questions, to the new relation of men and women to eadi other and to the world, of which this new music was in some sense the voice. In it emotion was intermingled with interrogation, and pas- sion was restrained by sheer consciousness of itself. It was as far from the triumphant self-assurance of the nineteenth century as from the melodic sentiment of the eighteenth, and was perhaps nearer to life than either because of being more inarticulate, more troubled, more tortured, more eager for the basic and the ultimate. As Palliser played with a dreamy abandonment that made itself felt in the way his slim silhouette leaned back from the piano, while his eyes sought the corpice of the room as if looking into far spiritually peopled spaces, the tones 56 THE LIFTED VEIL wove themselves in with Bainbridge's hopes and wonder- ings and desires and became their speech. It was with something of a shock that in the next inter- im , ? hMTd Mrs. Jarrott say, eagerly: "What do you thmk? Wouldn't you simply hate it if you were in Man- gle's place?" ^^ He looked blank. "Simply hate it? Why?" "Oh, don't tell me you don't know. If I had a husband hke that, with every third woman in New York throwing herself at his head, my hair would have turned gr^ long ago." " ' "But you haven't a husband like that," he managed to say, as with a pang of envy he watched Harvey Colfax ^f^up to Mrs. Gildersleeve for an exchange of joking "No, thank God! And I sometimes fancy that dear ^^e wishes she could say the same. What do you *.i?* ^}^ was new to Bainbridge, and sUghtly dis- tunnng. Ive never thought anything about it— " "Wdl, I would if I were you. You see so much of tnem both — "That's just it; and I've never had the slightest rea- son to suspect—" -""IS"-*!.!, re*- "Oh, men never do suspect till the thing is right under their noses, she declared, passionately. "It isn't what one sees, it's what one knows." "Do you know anything in particular?" She drew herself up with dramatic haughtiness "Do you think I'd betray it if I did? I'm not talking scandal —to you of all people. I only want to be reassured " K you want me to tell you that Leslie and Maggie ate perfectly happy—" ^ « ST li' THE LIFTED VEIL wi'"""^ y«» <» tea me they're not pattioK np a "They're not M far as I can see. I've never thoueht of such a thing." She sighed and sodled as if playing to a gallery, ixdling her tmy, brilliait eyes. "Then I'm so relieved. You know if any one would; though I don't suppose that any OTe COM know beyond all doubt. What do you think? Can Maggie expect to hold a man like that—?" "Isn't it a sufficient answer that she does?" ae- seemed to tear at her heart. "Ah, but does she? TeU me frankly, now. You'd know if any one would and I want your real opinion. If you'd seen the way they wwe married! Dear Maggie, with her wiU and her sias and her money, simply swooped down on him, like a typhoon on a schooner, and swallowed him up. Poor Leshe was wooed and married and a'— before he knew what he was about. He hadn't a penny-as I suppose you know. Dear Maggie swept him off his feet; but whrther she'n keep him off them, now that he's got more of a position in the world, is another matter. What do you say?" He found himself reUeved of the necessity of answering to question by the fact that LesUe again stretched out his arms to the keyboard, and with head thrown back and that air of searching vague, spiritual places, begaii on fte last movement. But the strange harmonies now stirred Bambridge's imaginaticm to a new variety of strange thoughts. Without crediting Mrs. Jarrott's in- smuations. or attaching to them more importance than ^ deserved, he found it difficult to dismiss them. When, therefore, he sat alone with LesUe and Maggie after the other guests had gone, he lodced at both witii THE LIFTED VEIL a wonder for which the word suspkaon was acaicdy too harsh a term. ' They were stfll in the music-room, where Leslie had returned to the piaao-seat, after escorting the last of the ladies to the door. Mrs. Palliser and Bainbridge had al- ready dropped into two of the comfortaMe chairs grouped carelessly near the instrument. "What do you think of Clorinda?" she had asked at once. ' ^He had answered, truthfuny. "I thought her wonder- " Wonderful in what way?" "Oh, in every way. She's so— so amazing." It was then that Palliser came back from his task as host, catching the last words. "Who's amazing?" He put the question sharply and nervously, and yet with a met^c laugh. Slipping into the piano-seat, he struck a loud, harsh chord or two, before adding, "Who's Arthur ravmg about now?" " Clorinda. I put him next to her." Palliser sounded out a few more chorxls, breaking into a snatch from "Tristan". "I'm not raving about her." Bainbridge protested; but I found her unusual." "TTiat's why I wanted you to know her." Mis. Palliser explamed. " If Mary GaUoway won't do— " Palliser snatched his hands from the keyboard and turned fiercely. "For God's sake, Maggie, let Arthur tnanage his own aflEairs." "That's what I want him to do-with a Uttte directmg." "Can't he direct them himself?" Her kiud, frank langh was the more bofatjrous because 59 "C«iyo< THE LIFTED VEIL of her irritetioa in bthag calkd to aoooont. Arttmrf Do you waot me to drep ont?" ^Ws hands rtimyed into tiie fiwHnuric "Whrt on MrOi era he say? Do yo« eq)eet him to «1 you to m»dyo«r own business?" The leaping. cn«dding ^^ o£ the phrases he seaned to whip oat of the piano ««- dewd ody the more nervous the tangh by which he tried to tone down the annoyance in his wwds. Warned by the flwh in his hostess's eye, Bainbridge- 2«««tolii8feet,saying.ashedKiso: "Manieismin^L her own busmess when she's minding mine. Aita^tyoT Maggie? It will be a pretty cold day iriien I don't turn to yott as a oonstitatiooal monarch to his prime minister " eomg forward; he leaned on the piano, where PaUiser was now running mto something else. "What's that squis- Ming thing you're playing, Leslie?" Palliser said it was IW>ussy's "Reflet duis I'eaa." ^bridge looked round at his hostess, but shook his Head sidewise in the diiectiott of his fiiead "What's the matter with him? He's been like that all the evemng." ^^ R&iiig also, Mrs. Paffi,, went forwwL Above her evsmng dress of pale-Wue silk h« &oe wis unusually ,^., ^l?'*,^^'^ *«"'«*' '•^ P««d- Standing shghtly behind ier husband, she bmajed her hand UAt^ over hu, hMd "Poor dear," she said, sofdy; "it's Clormda. He doem't like her " ^^^JJDo^^'t like her?" B«nb;idge demanded, quickly. ae had got back her orisy, jdly voice. "Oh, you ^•skhmthat. /don't know." She bent till te wd cheek touched his hair, while she murmured, tenderiy AU I see IS that whenever she's round he's cross and 4e THE LIFTED VEIL aansjbty, and wants to lay boRid thiap to Ut poor old mumiey-wiiiiisey wife, who adores him." While his rig^t hand continaed to find the keys Pal- liaer raised his left, and, drawing up the fingers tliat rested on his shoulder, he touched them with his lips. And yet it seemed to Bainbridge that the romantic eyes con- tinued to search the dimness about the oomioe of the room as if seddng the things that were rsalities. CHAPTER V "C^S^"^- T" *^'' •^ "^^fi^t a -to lad ^^ ever been m love. ShVa »«. ^ ^i. ^^ have always been a^to^c^ ^1,^ ^^T 1'" Bambndge's heart gave a great boundlt^ sam^ thing to know that no one dae hadl^ wT,, «^rlt!!^t ^ acquaintance with Clorinda Gil^ J^whe« the ^clconing of chance haSCrS: tented with his day^wc^^! ^^^ "^ "^ «»- c-fid^tial. Ledfe'hS ^IS^'^^rt"^.!* awnber, dimly liriited KvLZ^^^ ^ **** "^y tuckedktob^ t^ • T^' '^ ** ^''i'*«» being ^ wwSt ^r"::** '^ ^vorabletothatintS that resemwr fh^^ S? ■ *=*° «»» to something Bainbn^r^^er^^^-^^^cn Of spS and her limitations He ^;,rf^^ ^ ^*^ '''* '''*^ J^ even when'^^tltS. 'wiS ^^TteS icnew It to be inspired by good win. ■ =«w* ne How do you know she's never been in love?" he v«- 03 THE LIFTED VEIL tared to uk, Ui cgm gubg into the heart ol the qiltitterw btg fire. "Becanw 1 da I kaow all about her. She oooldn't have been in love without my seetng it." "She's been married." "That didn't count. She was very sweet with poor old Martin Gildersleeve; but he was neariy sixty when she wasn't twenty-one. That was her mothei^-old Mis. Rintoul. Clorinda wa& one of those dreamy giris who develop late. She just wallced through the mairiage, as you might say. and hardly knew where she was tiU she was out on the other side. Since then—" "Yes, since then— what?" "Oh, well, she's been waking up. I can't describe her m any other way. She's trying to find herself; and she's just as much at sixes and sevens as if she was Galatea come to life at the age of thirty-one." For some minutes Bainbridge puffed at his agar in silence. "She always seems to me," he said then, "as if she was— as if she was hiding something." Startled by his own words, he was nevertheless relieved that Maggie should agree with hinL "Yes, she does. But she isn't. She has nothing to hide. She couldn't have without my seeing it. There's nothing behind that air of mystery but herself." "Do you mean that she herself is a mystery?" "Only in the sense that she's a woman who has never had a woman's chief experience." "Because she's never been in love? But then she might have been," he persisted, for the sake of being contradicted again, "without having told you anything about it." -» J / B She shook her head. " I shouldn't want her to tell me. 63 THE LIFTED VEIL ■.Mn I dMMld ham known." She ■AW «m, -. „.,__ j_. ^~ce. "I don't « M nmAofSil^L?!??!!!!^ l«Hedo«B't lite her.^^^^^^^*^' ''**«* ^ «i«rf hii head with diriodty. "So vo« -id th« «tt»r «ght, but I am h«rdly iwuZe it Wh^ ^i^ ■houldn't be lite her?" •— «™ w. wiiy on euth "PtfbBiM because she doen't like Mm. Twi «aK~i^ ^too. They««*tobev«ygoodlLi b^ th^new .peak to each otherS^lStt^.'t hS,^ Bambridge .Bowed this to oa«. "a«--- £J^^ thisafterooon." "» » !»*• She wm m church "That's another thing about h«P-«h-', ««.». u j rtliinca Neither hKHrT^.'^tJ? f^ ^^^Gildersleeve. They've all beT^*^ ^ t^ l^^^Z^""^ bas been in a chS <«"a'^^:<^:.*^ ^*'«*^'« ««»^.. yo«^LS'*V^Lf^'.*^*'»y«'- She goes to hear you preadL I know you intemst »««■• 1^4. . 7^ way £n« having ccn^^S^'^' '^^y^"**'"* andtienn«,Ltrt^S^.*«»-«*^-'^ Oh, don't defend yourself. There's no ham in your fyuig to convert her, and there mav h« -nlT^ ™ ywjr win be like tamimr a wild J^ ^^ ^* *^°*^- ^* ^^^^ _^ «« lining a wild bad; but even that has been "And yet you yourself—" y^'^t r *?r*r-^«^f« the reason that 1 w«rt you to have the privOqje of choice. I don't^ THE LIFTED VEIL jraa ihoald nrii in haadlaiic aad BMny MMyGaOomy withmtt wtiag tiiat thm an othtr tjrpM of mmoi ia tiwirarid." He Mdad. "Bwn I rfmra aqr et?«« of nahisg in hmUmii, f" "My dear nan, I don't watt tfl yvr, ujov. sk-m of thnigr My part ii to aatidpa^^e T; j hr^o't .-? 'uiii- mended Maiy, to hegta with, I ic-n* iyeJicvc -wu'i w have giTMi her a aeoond thooglit " "How do you know I have, t -: it jsr "By my oonanon aenw. Now th^t I i^n pointed her out, yott caa't help amag that ah*'s ioeaJly t . orife far yoo. No one die will ever be as coiyl " "And yet—" !«•; Qoriflda acain. But, don't yoa see, yon can never get tiie tme vahie of anything unleos yoa have a •tandard of compariaon? Qonnda throws Mary int» rdief ; Mary doe* the same for fa«ri~«« •^^de^ect that nri^t have g^ "th^^T n«n m a aty like New York. But it didaVdo ^y ^the fact that he loved her.ortaake his toveoneS Je» a glorious, noble, fexhilarating thing ^^rte. He did it as he turned out of Sixty-nin^ ^«to^ Arown up by the dty and noting on it like ^T^^*^ was a nagic in this sjor akin to was be«.bfymg, transforming, tremendous; iTwIT fte ^J^,^* Jr^ *»« «8ly «to loveline« and^' SS.^J^,^'**^ It "P^-d itself abovspi^ ^H^H j!r^ ^°°^ «^'" »•« q«°ted tolLself ii«it,^';rt s?" *;« "-h*^ «- — shflnM iTrtl ^;. . ***• """^ °° «•««■ what 8ho^ be Aeresnlt. it was for him part of that hieh«t ^^ which he had always madVhis ataj ft^S ■hould love Oorinda Gildaraleeve. The Father of Ughts! He uttered the exclamation 68 Mi THE LIFTED VEIL seemed like the infinite distance of tije lower stretches of the city; they twinkled through the trees on his right; they threw out broad shafts from the doorways on hi^ left; they banked themselves in stupendous masses and rows, hi^ vp and sky-like, in the hotels and apartment- houses south of the Park. It was not like a wonderland- It was like the great heart of the world, the heart of the human race, the heart that is all file and passion and k)ve gazing through wid&open eyes, kicking out, looking on' while he entered into his heritage. The Father of Lights I Every good gift and every perfect gift came down, could only come down, from Him; so that Baiabridge took his love as a boon. He dreamed of it that night. In the morning he looked over his cards of invitation to see if he was asked to any houses where he might possibly meet Mra. Gildei^leeve. He went to the Qoudsleys', where a daughter was being brought out; but Ckjrinda wasn't there, and his day grew somber. It gave him, however, a feeling that his time had not been wholly thrown away when he had a talk with Miss Higgins over a matter which he deemed of some importance. He had noticed her ahaaost from the moment of his eitranoe into the great Ckradsley drawing-room, chiefly because of the way in which she verified Maggie Palliser's description given to hm two months earlier. She was standing in a comer, gaunt and grimacing, in spite of a dashing, fashionable hat and a trim, tailor-made suit '«- won her W 1!?^*^ ?«f» '^t'' « w«nnth that vioo^y bTLS^ r^ *«* «>« ^ ««t he l»d P«- with Maty GaUowav Wi^l^^ ^^ * ''^ " **» BalaWghjaZr^'^ with Magpe Palliaer. with Mm. did he Uke"^;:::^* *^* a--Ja wouldn't corne On Tuesday, there beine no ainh «»»,* i, to caa oo her. and actuaUy aTSsI^!:^* was tempted strolled by her housTbarr^J^ ^? '^ '^e "*• «f being Lint^ "ISw ''*=^"'' °' ^^ tbat night helS ^h^^ ^| ^- ^^"^ '-aWng up his nund SttZi^I^^ "^^ '^'^^■ however serious the ^tSL^lS ^ If"* '^y- he had known her shHSlo SS*^'^ "^^^ «3king hina to come that tdTso^S^ :::^ and caned on him to nrn^a^ ^^Jr^*'"^*^- n«nit. It might be-it^, !r' ^'^ ^^- be would »ad hope whiSth^^Sr^ - his part than a n-^^that sbe a ^t;: SLr:s.e" ■" ^ - home. HisspSt^T''*°^'^^'°^«'t ton^et^:^-In£-V-^-le2^hun 72 THE LIFTED VEIL «W«l«y. The week might go by witbout U. Meing her «d «, m^ht anath« .^ He ^n-utej^/^ owa meet almost any one eta at any time he choae adshearajdhim? He ooold have b^i^S^ think sojwd It not been far a certain k^of ri^«^ ff«n^ that was not fer mnoved bJt^ betrayed each time of seeing him. W"-«»» Gloomily making up hie mind to his diswrnointment he w« attempting the second b«t by gofa^^rrS; jneetmg^ » the chance of a halfW ^Se pS ^. ,^«hmight be spent in a «newal of «^^ SL ^'l^tlL'^.^ turned fi«n Fifth Avenue i«to Surty-nmth Street, he felt a kind of imKr f«ntn«. 7? ^ht of a tall, distingmshed figure deecendix^m a m^ttat drew up at Maggie's door b^^^TLdc stiU Qonnda spoke to the chauffeur and dismissed him. ^ ^=^ i«. alre«jy moving «stw«d along the staeS take the few necessary steps and join her. Not having noticed his approach, she turned with a qmck, sfrtled flush at sonrrf of his voice-TlTets before o« could notice it, into leassuiaace and welcome It was her customary greeting. He could not remembe^ that he had ever come near her without seeing that swift ^*j™-nr token of f«r. which flashed^aft^ Tt IJ^ ""'"^^ acknowledgment of his p,^^ It had been so at their first meeting, and conS to be so Still. It p„«ded her smile, and the way sTh^ of hddmg out her hand-a way that was at d. I love walking on theee a^ afternoons. That's why I sent .waylhrLtorl m«nt to wdk many case. Do give my love toN^ andsay I didn't want to see her ab^t J^^l n^hl' T K'T.^f * Mttle^^ust a Httle lor^T^i thought I should like a chat." /. "«i * ^th that indination of the head which he always com- pared to the bend of a lily on its rtalk she WX^ W h,m when he took his comage in both hands.^« «^tIwalkaUttlewithyou? I'm too3y for^ »-^g. and M^e wiU only be bored ^iL^X "Why, of course— if you like " What she really meant was written in the flashing, un- THE LIFTED VEIL *<**M»Me hagonge d her face. That was something to wUch he had no key. Displeasure was not in it so much as misgiving, and misgiving not so much as a tremulous acquiescence. That this exquisite being, whom he could scarcely approach without a sense d what he felt a. the almost unbearable tension in h« heart to be able to answer a oo«Z3«e qlS the diurdj, though It was something philanthiooic The m^t^wj-tobeatMaggie'sbecal^SS^ hved m that neighborhood, and her house wasT^ lowwn headquarters of good works. ^ » '"^I What sort of good worics is this?" d,^!!^"**.**"''"'*^ In the late seventeen hun- drrfs some worthy citizens of New York h«l foundeTa hofflefor moomgibie girls, and attached to it a pi^of 2^ at tl»t time of small value, but now L th^^ Si^lT; .''r^ ^ ^°«»* to take care of^ Our^gttls. to which number at any one time they were i t^c!,^ "'^' themselves, and come out at the^ «f two o- three years as useful membeiB of the community. 7* THE LIFTED VEIL Some of ibm went Iwdc to an imctilar life, but about eij^ty per cent, nmuned tnw to the tmining they had iwetved, generally manying and settling down. "Poorthingsl And what malces them go witmg in the fast place? Is it that they"r-8he seemed to find some difficulty in fonnulating her question— "is it that thw £■11 in love?" "Not generally— not often. Love, as a matter of feet, has very UtUe to do with it. They're too young, as a rule, to know anything about it, beyond seme sort of vague romantic dream." She walked on, without looking at him. "Then what is it?" "Bad homes— bad parents— bad examples-loneliness often — poverty always — " "So that it isn't really their fault." "Not primarily. It is their fault in the second place, since you can't take responsibility away from any human individual; and yet — " "And yet you can't blame them much, can you?" "I don't bdieve we think about the blame. We're too busy finding the cure to dweU on the way the patients have caught the disease." "And what cure do you find?" "Onecureisworic. It often happens that girls go wrong from sheer lack of anything to do in which they can take an intwest. Once you've given them intelligent occupa- tion, it's astonishing what a change comes over some of them." ^^ The warmth with which she spoke took him by surprise. " I don't see that it's astonishing. If you only knew what it is »w/ to have intelligent occupation—" He was moved to ask, "Do you?" 77 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No. 2) '^ly^i^ _^ ^ PLIED IIVHGE In ■^— - 16^3 Eost Mom Street --^g Rochester. Ne* York !4609 USA i^^ C^'6) *82 - 0500 - Phone =^ ('16) 288- 5989 - Fo. ■i i 4 ■* i THE LIFTED VEIL She shot him a ddewise glance in answering. "IVe Wny do you emphasize the now?" awly.^"^ ^^^^'^ ^y «>^ hope you've taken it inlTuf.^^ knowledge that he <»unted for anything m her hfe brought an element of joy into his amaz^t in .\^ f°^^ {"^^^^ ^° something," she declared, in a tone of reproach, "till you told me I couldn't." lold you you couldn't? When?" tili'^i! 7'°^S ^* ^^^'' ^t Maggie's. You said that m one had done mipossible things for oneself one couldn't do anything for any one else." "Did I say impossible things?" "They're impossible to me." '■How do you know, if you haven't tried them?" I have tried them. It's the bringing every thoueht mto «ptivity-thafs the expression, fen't it^ Did I ever tell you to do that?" In some confusion she stopped short before a flower- ^ near the com^ of Fifty-ninth Street. "How beau- taftil! she said, rather tremblingly. "Things are already taghtemng up for Christmas. It seems temble for us to be enjoymg ourselves, doesn't it? when there's so much re^.!f •*' *''°'=^^-" ^^ '^^^°^ ^^bled her to regam the necessary tone, as they walked on again "If ^uhavw t said it in so many words, it's what I've in- feired. I ve heard you preach a good many times-" th.^:* .w^ u^^ explaimtion. "Even so, it's not any- ^^^^^^'^l^awonipMshedeasilyorallatonce. It's Having to run counter to the up^urrent of the city's We, they were separated for a minute or two, which gave 78 THE LIFTED VEIL her time to think over these wonls. When they had again come together she turned on him suddenly with a fiercaiess which he had only suspected as an element in her character. "How should you feel if the most serious thmg you ever had to think about was dress?" He laughed. "I suppose I should feel like a man who has neither legs nor arms; but that can't be your situa- tion." "It is — almost." _^_^"_0h, but only-almost. That lets you out, doesn't "No, because-" She hesitated long, pausing again before a convenient bookshop in a way that made him also pause. He noticed that, for the first time since he had known her, her eyes, which were darker than hazel and deep with a baffling profundity, looked straight into his own. He knew she wanted to tell him something to make a confession; but he knew, too, that she would make It only m suggestion, leaving him to draw his own con- dusions "No," she repeated, "because the only serious thmg I have to think about I don't think about any more ... I shut my mind to it. . . . It's no use. . I've thought about it so much ... and so helplessly and always round and round in a circle ... that now At least," she went on, in another tone, "it would be quite useless ... my thinking about it ... if it weren't for . . . some of the things you said." Brfore he could group these broken phrases together or bnng out of them anything like coherent sense, she had hastened on again in such a way that the crowd divided them once more. Though there were but a few paces between them he made no eflfort to rejoin her tiU he had pondered on 79 THE LIFTED VEIL what die had said. The inference was plain. It was what he had suspected. Maggie Palliser was wrong in saying Clonnda had never been in love. She had been in love- and unhappUy. That was what he had seen in her from the first; it was the something heartbroken, the secret which was not quite a secret, she had been trying to conceal. And yet the truth had scarcely come home to him before he found himself tingling in every nerve at the discovery that she wanted him to know it He had allowed her to keep a step or tw . advance of him, while a flying wedge of pedestrians intervened be- tween them. She walked so swiftly as to give the im- pression of a person in flight. She might have been trying to run away from him, or from something in her thought When he was again beside her, she spoke rapidly and without looking round. •'I wonder if you have any idea as to what I mean?" "I can guess," he returned, quietly. He felt himself pnvileged to add, "I rather think I saw it from the first " She seemed to quicken her pace. "I thought you did From that very ni^t at Maggie's I was sure you could see nght through me." Before he could take these words up m any way, she said, breathlessly: "I'm glad It's the more kind of you to treat me as you have. I— f shall never forget it." lie allowed himself to say. as if speaking casually it s been the most wonderful thing in my life to know you at all." She gave no indication of having heard these words gang oa to say, with the rapidity of subdued excitement! But I ve hved through it now I've Uved some of it down ... not all of it .. . some of it only . and if you could go on helping me . . " 80 THE LIFTED VEIL " If I've helped you in any way^" -nZ""'''^^^^ ""^ ^ """^ ^^y^ than you can know "Well, you shall." "These poor girls, for example. . . . Don't you see' iittle""^' <^« ^"y*-g for them . . . howev^ He thought it tactful to foUow the lead with which she Sife Z^:7 '" °"" '^"^ ^'^^-^ '° ~hS r ZL ^ ^ * consequence. "How should you like to come and see them? You might be intet^ted." Uh, if I might! tond. Her«flected for a few seconds before making his n«t suggestion " I go to talk to them every few wiS Si'^r r '* "'^ *° r^ *-• ^^« -^- I^^t, u ' "* "^ ^°*^ °^ *e women director- ^^Z^Z ^ «^ °^ *«^ with the girls afterw^ fo; the purpose of getting to know them. TTiey'll r^lZ be afraid of you at firet. " prooaoiy ;;Not half as much as I shaU be afmid of them." But you 11 get used to one another; and then you'U see h^ shght IS the diffei^ce between them and oni^." Oh. but I see that now." she exclaimed, with what ^almost fervor. "I'm r«uiy-^y to'lean, ^ .^\^- '^ ^"^ *""'-** '««* I do- They're v«y touchmg. m their way, with an innocence t^ persistem spite of everything. You see they're aS^ui^J^J SSi.'"' '"' '* ^^* *^^ "'''-* '^ -* --eTlt So they passed from the personal topic to the mot* 8i "^HE LIFtED VEIL general, and after crossing Forty -second Street they scarcely spoke at aU. At Thirty-ninth Street they turned toward Madison Avenue, stopping before one of the smaller houses on the slope of Murray Hill. As it was nearly dark by this time, the outer vestibule, into which they could see through a glass door protected by a wrought- iron grille, was lighted up. It was a white vestibule that seemed the more spotless because of the strip of red carpet running up the steps, and the two pointed box- trees in tubs in the comers. Bainbridge had often, as he went by, looked at it enviously. It seemed a fitting threshold to mark the home of one so exquisite, so simple, so fastidious, so pure, so much the soul in search of the higher things while remaining a woman of the world. At the same time it was like a barrier which he had stiU to pass. Others went in and out over it for vhom it had no meaning. For him it had a. meaning; perhaps it had a meaning, too, for her. He guessed this when in bi-.ding him good-by she said: "I can't ask you to come in, be- cause you'U be late for your meeting. I'm afraid you'll be late as it is—" and yet refrained from asking him to come on any subsequent occasion. "But it can't be because she doesn't want me," he declared to himself, as he called a taxi to take him back to Sixty-ninth Street. He added, with that thumping of the he^Tt which gave him again a feeling of inner faintnes,!, "It's because she does." CHAPTER VI E^S*^ ^ afternoon in the week before Christmas V^il^2^^\^"i ''*^°« ^"»° ^ b'^^^ visit to h^ .Vf. ^- f '^'^ ^^'" '''^° ^* ^* their backs to hrni at the * to distinguish Sed ti^tZiJ^f '^- *^y' "' took it for Maggie and ^^e' J^^'^'Zr'^^ not iealou^t least, not moreZnl^lJ^^ permanent. That s pure invention." ^^5.s:.t^^twe-."^.^i^^ ^ Sut^ra.d°'..^^*^^^''-^She^^ Ies^y'Z^*S:'^"-^^r -<^ ^«- to pacerest- Bambridge's eyes foUowed him. "You m«« ti, * there is this-this otijer woman^ ^° *^* Palliser came to a standstiH in the shadow of the h«o!r cas««i the other side of the «x>m. hZZ^^: ifrii"*^ *^'" ^^"^ <^«'««i. husMy. "because ^"^ ir?'^'"^^'^«>forth,^y^^ «««• Thought it w« not ^only dead aS^^S THE LIFTED VEIL ttat nobody knew it had ever been alive. Howthedevil this confounded rag can have got hold of it— " "When once you chooae to do that sort of thing. Leslie, you never know who—" ^^ ^^ he had teten refuge. "I didn't choose to do that sort . and Maggie dis- covers there has been an actress in your life-" PaU«er came forward, resolutely, throwing his half- smoked cigarette mto the fire. "I think ra be off. But 93 THE LIFTED VEIL before I go Arthur. I've a favor to ask you. Don't-" He s^ned huag up for words, or for the eMct thought he was trjong to express. " Don't, " he began again, "don't say anything to me about-^bout the^the aLi-tm I W Tr..*^,^^-, ■ ^' ^''' ■" °^' y^ ""iei^tand- a^any'^^t^.^ "" "^* ^ '^"^ y«--* ^^^ -h^e. •• A^r"'!!!'^ ?*• ''^'^ a haad on his friend's shorider. AU nght, Lashe. I shaU nev«- speak of it unless you do; ^^t I sha n t keep xt a secret ftom you that I'm thinking a Th^ were in the h«a, where Palliaer, who had thtxm. a handsome fur coat over his dinner-jacket, stood thought- ful and somber and more than ever ornamental. Sud- d«Uy he looked up. "Ani«,," he exd«med. sharply, don't get married!" -"^pty, Bainteidgewte taken by surprise. "What makes you thmk I ve any idea of doing it?" buf-S^rT^^T^*^*^- "Never mind that; w V? i- ^"""^ ^^ *="««'» ofif as you are." Mded. Or If you do-many Mary Galloway She was cut out for you." "«aoway. ane Brfote he could make any retort to this Bainbridee fo^ ^ alon. Going beck to his study, he f ell lo ^^\.-"u '^^ *'• '*«^ against the mantel- piece w,th bs back to the dying fiie. He was leckoning up the tame. It was all over. Leslie had said, three yeail first few months m which he himself had been at St. Mary Magdalen's, at the very time when LesUe had be«n Aowmg so much interest in all that affected the parish life. He could do that-he could seem to Uve hjppily 9i THE LIFTED VEIL with Maggie-^ could seem to be *t peace with Us «»faence-and stiU be keeping up an afiair that had plainly cut deeply into his heart, -ith some one on the stage. Bambridge wondered how men who were not depmvect-as Leslie certainly was not-could combine blrads of conduct so incongruous. K there was any pafliation of the guilt it lay in the fact that it had not been a matter of premeditation. It had flared up He was thrown ba«k on that elusive, tantalizing memory ^ese words had certainly been spoken to him once before, and m circumstances that bore a resemblance to those of thw evening. But when-«id whete-and by whom? ' And yet as he searched his recollections of the past four years his mind revolted against the '-ask. It was hke gomg back into a jungle, stifling, smothering, mias- matic. So much had been told him! So many hearts had been ponied into his! Had he not had wholesome counter-agents within himself-had he not been able to disruss and forget— he must have been sickened, poisoned by the mflow of nauseating confidence. In the end he gave the effort up. He did so not from . lack of mterest in the matter, but because he dropped again into his arm-chair to indulge in happy dreams They were dreams of Clorinda Gildersleeve, whom on the next day, at her own invitation, he was to see for the first tmie at home. I CHAPTER VII yo pass the white vestibule, with its strip of red carpet * Mid Its two pointed box-trees, was to Bainbridge as the falfitaent of a ceremonial rite. The man who ad- mitted him was in keeping wi^i the admirable neatness Of the entry, correct, cadaverous, lantem-jawed, needing only the touch of powder in the hair to make the visits fed he was m London. Within, all was fresh, immaculate and spacious, whUe the footfall was soundless on soft red carprt hke the strip outside, adding warmth to what was already reotful. One blue-green bit of Flemish tapestry and one fuU-length portrait that might have been a CSainsborough reUeved the white panehng of a hall from which a hbrary at the front of the house and a dining-room at the back were dimly revealed. On the first low landing of tte s-airs was an ebony Chinese pedestal on which stood a celadon Chinese jar. Bainbridge knew finer houses in New York, but none that gave this unpression of spotlessness and simpUdty. He was not m the habit of observing such details, and did it now mamly because the setting so beautifully suited the equisite soul who dwelt within it. It was with a pal- patatang sense of reverence that he followed the footman to the drawing-room up-stairs. As he had looked forward to seeing Clorinda alone, he was disappointed, on reaching the upper floor, to hear 95 ii THE LIFTED VEIL ^^; ^"* i *^ white^d-gold expanse of the draw.ng.r<«m bemg visible ft«n the staii^w^itSf te J^hat Uy on tables and hung over the b^^ chairs. He could hear her say. in her silvery staccato- "OhW ^^.•^^- ^<^'*^they11i?i* rvS'l"'^ r*^' ^•"^^y^ '"^•' P°« things! It's With the words she ntnwvt mf^ ^'.i>_. t^ng fihny thing ofTtSVuTclf'^I^^^S arW^«alKght. A g«iwg can mipoee upon a man who has nothing whatever on his conscience. It was almost as if^ knew, what she could not possibly have known, that he might have been in love with her by now. if Clorinda naon t mtervened. fhT^l^^^T^ **^* ^^ ^ "° """^ °^ P««^g. beyond Z^ ^ ^ "^"^ "^""^ to keep to friendly superfiaahbes. He wondered if she was b^inning to 97 THE LIFTED VEIL divine ,Hiat ma in his heart and was gtawu^ a&aid of it Was die backing out? Was she naming awav? Was she hi- Galloway who uttered the exclamation. Uormda only turned round and looked at the passionate woman silently. "No, Maggie," Bainbridge said, quietly. "It wasn't' THE LIFTED VEIL ^^^^^j^^ ,^ ."•«»■ au, UMt Idiotic paragraph may be ^^Oh.v«yKWy. TeU«ewhatit«ud.andru«»wer J^«.I d«U. It «ud you wen^Healou, of yo„, an uncontrollable to^r " ' *^* y«« »»«» hun well." ^ ^ ""*" '*• «nd I've paid "Oh, Maggie," Mary Galloway cried 'M^-* th^; .or at least dor?t say ^ S, uJr "^ "^ Maggie glared at them Jl n«Sv^' ^ ,, «y it? Don't you know iT^L^.7^^ shouldn't I l«owit? Havenri^tJLp^dlf^ '''^ ^"^^ of his own in the w<»M? w L Did he have a penny make him? Hav!n^ t • ^^ *" anybody? Didn't I coat to hi; biT^burwh^^ T.""^ '?^*^°"- H« h^a^'t a shouldn'tlWaLi.irt^".'^**^^- Why W:^a.'ty^^;i-^^rS^;^^^ib^^^^ and ttL^" ^^ '''•*° 3^^ thought them over; 103 THE LIFTED VEIL tli«nI«ninow;andnowmyhearti.bi«.ldiiB" £ VoricI'^ '^'^'^ me with half the women in .h^rk;:w'^'*'" ^"^ '"^"^ "« ''* i-i I be'tll'il'* l?" *^^,7i* °°'' ^ «««qu«ce would be the same. He would have deceived me " Clonnda oune slowlj- forward as if about to speak ^^BamWdge continued she again stood Sll^a •ny^ other woman-even one-m his life, besides you.. J^'^Zit^- '^'r'^ the effect of a tumultuou. tw* \.^<»*l°>r "">**'«« f«- a fact. I only know fandofmghtmare. I've felt that something was^rouK b^«m Led^and me without being abte^tell wS :* He's been miles away fiom me; we've been ^iJs ^; and yet I haven't been able to put myl^t ^ e madent. or catch him up in a single w^ tLt would bear me out. If s been smothering me; iW tea Mmg me; but I haven't dax«l so mui as 'to uttT^ «y. I ve felt at tunes that you all must see it-thatyo^ ^eas^ mus^ see it aorinda. when you've been in ^ country-but you aU seem to be on Leslie's side and think he has a nght to r iake me suffer." "I yuu. ± u«a i "Then I'U take that as your answer— and come." \h CHAPTER Vin * No, Magpe, no," Maiy GaUoway pleaded "jJT '** ^"^'.i' ^'^^^ said, in a tone of authority. ' Let her read all thens is." B.^^!^ "^f^^ *^ "'^ *■ *^«y P«^ a Ughted newspaper-stand and got out. When he canie baclTwith tte weekly u. his hand he had already opened it to^he S'^'.r?^^''- Maggie tried to read it by the b£L^^^h ST"' ^"'"'=' ^* ^« «y- we. too '■I can't," she moaned. "Tell him to drive on " Up through Fifth Avenue she lay bock in her comer o^ the motor, sdent, suffering, with eyes closed, grasping the paper iike a treasure to her bi^at* • wZ!^'°'* ^1^' ^^^•" M'^ G^°way whispered whaa they reached the house in Sixty-ninth Street^ Then Tufts will take you home." Bainbridge said nothing, accompanying Mrs. Palliser into the house as a matter of course On the ground floor, near the front door, was a smaU ^^ dnefly by LesUe or his stenographer as a kind l^^fU T ^ ^ housing-place for his collection of aghteenth^^entury mezzo-tint portraits of judges, states- men, ^d eoMomists, with which the walls were hung. Followed by Bambridge, Maggie bustled in here, switch- 109 Wi THE LIFTED VEIL Hease shut the door." Dropping into a chair beside ^ table on which stood a typewriter cove«!d up fiom the A«t by a black oadoth cap. she put up her veil and read Beyond the fact that the high color surged into her face malang it almost purple, she gave no sign till she had finished the paragraph. " w^*i ^■" f ? ^^^' *en, not angrily, but in a meek, tearful, puzzled voice. "Whafs this about a cer- tam mteresting, dark-eyed woman? Who is she?" Bambridge felt himself within the limits of truth in saying: _ I don't know. But what I do know is this that y«ire now up against the critical moment of your hfe^and It s for you to show what the principles you've been professing all these yeare amount to " She looked round to where he stood, still wearing his overcoat and holding his hat in his hand, with his back ^ainstthe door. "What do you mean ?-the prinaS I ve been professing aU these years.'" "As an active member of St. Mary Magdalen's you've been an active member of the church at large As a m^ber of the church at large you've subscribed -to certain laws o£ conduct. Now then, the time has rome to^ show whether you mean to Uve by those laws She shook her head. "I don't imderstand a bit." Why did you get married?" The blaiikness of her expression betrayed her surprise at so futJe a question. "Because I was in love with Leshe, of course." 'And you've learned that being in love with Leslie has mvolved some amount of give and take, haven't THE LIFTED VEIL •ob-like gup. "Oh, there's been She uttered her plenty of take." 'But you took it." "Took it! I've swaUowed .it by tons." But having swaUowed it-by tons-did you tWak of younelf as a bjgger or a smaUer woman for doing it?" ^^^JJe shouldn't have called on n«! to do it. He should- nJl";^- rr ^\^"»^'ii but that is not our present point. I'm asking you if, when you'd taken the dose, you thought of yourself as a better^^e to ^ or a worse one?" "«»»»!, ;; If LesHe could have had a better wife than I've been-" us ^^^^ ^,^''' ^ °°* '^ *I««ti°» before us^ want to toow If you think you would have been a , tette^ wife to hun by not taking what there was to h«;^'?Z^tT"'^'""°'"^*°-^^'°^«^'* Bul^^r ^ ^ » ^y " "Separate from him; send him about his business- divorce him. -~"ras, She stared up at him. "Do ,«« advise me to do that?" it—""' *' ^^ '"'^*^ ^^ °^* "P y°" °»»nd to "WeU, what?" I* You must make up your mind to the other thine " What other thing?" '.w t!?^"^ '"* '^^ *° ^°"2 on as in the past." WeU I have made up my mind to it. What else did you tnuucr tt,rL^5''r^ '^ ^'^^ *° ^^ something between ..^![!r ''''"'« '"^ "^^ "^"i ""^l^g Wni unhappy " Don t you think he deserves it ?" .J^°*T?" ^^ ^"^ «!™^^ ^ y°" •°'°w anything about. If youre going by that thing-" He pointed to the paper lymg on the table. mI?"' ^\ ^'^ ^- '^* "'^y corroborates what I've felt for the last three or four years." "All the same you don't know. And even if you did so long as you mean to Uve with Leslie you must liv^ with lum on a high plane and not on a low one. That's what I me^t just now when I spoke of being true to your pnnaples. If principles stand for anything in your hfe, you've got a chance to prove it." "Prove it how?" "By changing your mental basis; by thinking less of 114 THE LIFTED VEIL wh*tjort of a husbMd Leslie i. to you, airf more of what •ort of a wife you are to him." ae slapped her hand sJ.arply on the table. " I've been f!v1? ,*°'^- No one could have been better." ^^ReaUy? Then in that case there's no more to be" . J^*, ''° u^*~ *"^ y*"^"' "^^ You've been in and out for the past four yean,. You've seen with yo^ own eyes — ' "What I see with my own eyes. Maggie, is that you've ,^^ °?l^'u? '*^'°°»» « y««- heart, and turning r^ "f *"*.*"?« y<« don't know anything about; an! ^1^ " *** *P^«' ^^"^ * ^oree that Ti-ill carry you both away with it. Remember that you can't pu^ L^e without punishing yourself; and of the two it's probably you who'll suffer most." thf'f.T ^"^ \^^,°^"t«'. with her elbow resting on the table and her hand shading her eyes. When she looked up It was to say: "Then what would you have me do'" the teXir '"'' '"^^' - ^•^ y- «- attempt. "What do you mean by that?" "I mean that you can't Hve LesUe's life, or shoulder h^ duties or make up for his shortcomings, or be respon- able for his sms. You've got enough to do with your own. If you wanted to be rid of him-to divorce him, as 3-ou might possibly find you could do-I don't say it ^d >^a! but it's what ycni've been hinting at youi^J to rf you wanted to be f ..i-^eU. that would be another Bringing both her fists down on the table with a thump IIS THE LIFTED VEIL *e criad out: "But, good Lort. nan. I Iom Mn. ™-. than I ever didr ^^ ™" "^ ^B^tSI^^ C^tovepoadblyactinthatwaVr ^ But what else can I do when he—?" "Yott can go on loving him; you can Aow him mom ^:^^^'' 5^ -°'«^»^ '««-««« and n« "Haven't I been doing that?" vJi^t,^*^' "*• ^*''' «»• y«« ««de«tood it-iime 2^Wdy«» ey« to the fi«:t that your love h« been JZt/8^^ Y«i've loved Ledie-^you told us so jurt now didn't you?-« «««rthing you owned, som^ thmg you d bought, something you'd cieated " But how can I help it. when before he married me he Sfu^ • T '^«'lff™«=t- « P<-itical ec^ S C^^ -*he snapped her fingeni-"aad didn't have a cent to his name?" Th^t'it^f.'*^'"??P'*y^'°^- "P«»MaggieI rt..^" Yr'^'***'^-y~'^'«*^vemnor El^^^'^L'^.**", f<*8ive me or not. as you ^^^T^Tl be the happier for knowing it. end y«x,'U never be happy till you do know it! You don't see that^ta f«ny ways I^ is superior to you-^d tha SwLk ^^1^\'°'^" AshecouldseethZisent. ^«t struggled m her mind with appn^al of his words, he went on: 'I^he is reaUy a distinguished man.rS Zo?^' ? '^^'^ °^ distinguished men. and he brmgs them to your house. He's more than that There's ^J^^^^rather excite in his nature. J^ J^we're all ultra-refin^i nowadays." she declared. ii6 THE LIFTED VEIL "PMdoo !»,»••« not Sotaeoltii have •g««t deal to iMm in that directiqa. I'd tUnk of that. Mag™, if 1 were you. "Are yott hinting that— that rm-rm"-4he could Wdly pronounce the wordi-"th.t I'm-rn, net ny "You're .plendid. Maggie. You're good and honest «^_ teue and nncere; bnt there's s«nethii^ about j' Which isn't about me? Is that it?" "Nor about me; nor about most of us." She drew a tong, hard breath as he continued: "You speak of what ive seta with my own eyes, Maggie. Well, among other things. I ve seen that, much as you love Leslie, you've nev«- treated him otherwise than as a r^nant queen mght treat a prince consort. You've given to '.•••,• you ve not been willing to share a common life with him.' to tlusvery house you've always been the head, while ne s been a few removes higher than the butler." "Arthur, what nonsense!" "It's true, Maggie. You've spoken of my house and my mot«r and my guests at times when most people would say "»«««* what else I 'rasi but mwardly-don't think I'm wild or exdt^ I ve guessed as much as that-I've known it." 130 THE LIFTED VEIL « iwuld bdiev*it: «ad yet «gi„j fire i, what «p«sses r^ Only >f . been fire like that of the volcano^ Sl?°^ *JT ^^^ a«<^what wa. the n«ne of the island ?-Martuiique. wasn't it?-a volcano that seemed so tame that no one thought it imm a volcano. Grass grew over it.and trees; it was just a splendid, peaceful hill. Men dimbed it. and children played on it; and then, one fine monung. . . . That's what I'm afraid of . . . . But this -^on t you »*f-this would open up a way for me. It would be just m my lineHust the sort of thing I could do. Don t you remember my telling you how ashamed I was last smnmer to come away from Paris because there was no way m which I knew how to help? But I do know A rr; ■ ■r.\^°' ^ *^'^'* ^ '' "•'e Claribd JaiTott and Colf« Pol<-^th grimaces and pretty speeches. I couldn t be a visitor at that place-^ one of your charity, workers No. I could only do it in my own way^by loving^by being loved—" ^ He was at the limit of his strength. Seizing the two hands with which she had been making Uttle gestures as she spoke, he held them tightly. "/ We you Qorind^ /love you. Let me bring what you're craving for " She didn't withdraw her hands; she allowed him to hold them She even leaned toward him, to observe him more dosdy. But he watdied the Haze in her eyes die down as though something had suddenly put it out It seaned an immeasurable time before she spoke. "Youl— a clergyman t-a— a priest!" "I'm a man. Qorinda." be whispered, hoarsdy. fahe still allowed him to hold her hands, though the clasp grew hmp. "Yes," she responded, dully. 'You're aman; but I hadn't th-jght of yoo as a man in-in just «3i THE LIFTED VEIL "In what way did you think of me?" Her response came slowly. "I don't know. In as far as I've thought of you at aU-personally-ifs been verv much as one might think of— of an angel." She OTthdrew her hands quietly and slipped *hem into tier muff. After sitting upright and eager she fell back into hex comer of the motor with a sUence that seemed to miply that the last word had been said. In the few mches by which he strained toward her Bainbridge felt that he was pursuing her through some long inward Ingnt. "But I'm not an angel, Clorinda. I'm just a man: and Its as a man that I love you. I love you like any other man; only that it seems to me as if there must be some- tmng higher and stronger in my love than—" ../S"®,.""™"^ *^® '^•^ *^^^^eh half-dosed lips. Oh, I m very sure of that." "No, that isn't what I mean. I only say that that's how It seems to me-because I love you so much. Anv man would love you with a high, strong love. I simply say that my love is jo high and so strong that I feel as a nothing would ever equal it." There was a kind of weariness in her tone. "And I dare say nothing ever could. Onlj^-don't you see?-I never thought of it. I'd put you-put you, in a way, off the earthly hst. I'd thought of you as my friend, in the same way that you're Maggie's and LesUe's— " "Do you want me to understand that there's no hope for me? *^ In the flood of street electricity he caught a gleam in her eyes hke that of Ught moving under water. "I don't Jmow what you mean by hope." "I mean hope that you could tove me in return." »3a THE LIFTED VEIL "Oh, that!" "Yes, that." He waited for her to speak again, but she said nothing. Instead, she leaned back in her comer with eyes closed. Having jerked their way up Seventh Avenue to Fourteenth Street, they were turning into it. The thunder of tra£Sc seemed to roll away from the windows and doors of the car, leaving the two who sat within isolated in a kind of peace. As the minutes were going by and she gave him no answer Bainbridge too fdl back into the depths of the car. "Then's there's no hope," he said, quietly. "You must let me think," she murmured, as if to her- self. Suddenly she added, "What would you expect me to do if there was?" He leaned forward again. "Marry me." "Mairy a clergyman? I?" "Marry the man you— you loved. Wouldn't that be the way to put it?" "It might be, if— if we could get things into such simple terms. But we can't." "Why can't we?" "I should think you'd see." A few seconds went by before she added, "For me to marry a clergyman is suidy inconceivable." "It isn't inconceivable that you should marry the man you love — if you do love him." "And that raises another question — if I do." "Do you know that you don't?" "I don't know anything — of the conditions into which jrou've thrown me. It's all new to me, new and strange and — and wonderful." "Wonderful?" 133 THE LIFTED VEIL "Yef, wonderful in that ywi could think of it— with legard to m4." "Oh, but it's just the other way. That you should think of it— if you do think of it— with regard to me— " "How should I not think of it? When a man like you asks a woman like me to be his wife, the honor in itself is so great — " He leaned further forward, kxddng into her eyes. "Honor? I don't undwstand." "Oh, well, you would if you were in my place." She raised herself, and, drawing her hand from her muflf, laid it lightly on his. "I wish I could teU you. dear friend, what it means to me. It means so much that it makes me afraid. It's like oflEering knighthood or a medal for distinguished conduct to a man who's been a coward in the battle. He might take it just because he's been a coward— and feel remorse for it afterward. That's one thing I must try not to do." "Why try to do anything but what you spoke of a few minutes ago— just to love and be loved?" Hm: smile, whidi merely dawned and faded, made him feel young and inexperienced. It was the kind of smile he had seen only in great portraits, and once or twice on the stage, the smile behind which Ue memories beyond putting into words. "It's not so simple as that. It tmght be as simple as that with some one else— but not between you and me." ^^ He tried to meet what he conceived to be her objections. "If it's because we're not of the same religion—" She swept this aside. "That's only part of it. if it's a part at all. If I were to— to do what you want, I could probably conform to your wishes, outwardly at least." "Then what are you afraid of?" 134 THE LIFTEf) VEIL "I'm afraid of myself. I'm afraid I may"— «he hdd the word m suspense, letting it flutter out softly— "love you." He seemed to cry aloud, not from rtnsngth of voice, but from the force of his emotion. " But if you do—" "I can't teU. I hope I don't; but— but I may.' "Why do you hope you dcm't?" "For every reason; for every s(»l of reason. I fed as if my love would— would scorch you— would burn vou up." ■" "Couldn't you let me take care of that?" "And then," she went on, ignoring his question, "tbere's something about you that puzzles me— that puts me out of all my reckonings." "What is it? Whatever it is, I'll give it up." ^ She smiled, not as before, but sweetly and rather fondly. 'No, you couldn't give it up. It's— it's your goodness " "Oh, but I'm not—" "No, of course; not to yourself. No one ever is. But it's the way you seem to me; and I can't teU you how it mystifies me as to all I fed about you. You see, women are not used to deaHng with good men— I mean men who've made a kind of specialty of goodness. They've no preconceived ideas to apply to them-nothing to go by. / haven't. The fact that you're what you are and I'm what I am reverees the usual position of a woman and a man. It makes me so humble—" "Cfh, don't say that," he pleaded, quidcly. "I must say it. If I don't you won't see how confused I am, nor what it is that confuses me. It's like looking at an object that stands too directly in the sun. You can't see its cokff; you can hardly see its shape. We human beings need shadows to show us the true valuer" I3S THE LIFTED VEIL HI! 'I'm just like an;^ "But, aorinda," he protested, other man." "Oh no, you're not." She smUed once more, the fine lummous smile that Ht up the deUcate beauty of her face with t«idemess and inteUigence. " You're far from being hte other men. You've a whole range of thought which most men don't possess; you speak a different language " She surprised him by going on to say, almost without ^ange of tone: "Would you mind getting out when there s a convement opportunity? With all you've been saymg-^d what we went through before that with the children— I m rathei^-rather overwhehned." "I'll do anything you wish. But you'll let me come to-morrow?" She r^ected. "No, not to-morrow. It's Christmas Day and you'U have your services. Then you'U be dmmg with the Galloways. I shaU be dining with the Colfax Poles. I was to have dined with LesUe and Maggie but when they went away Colfax and Julia were good enough to ask me. Not to-morrow, then— but soon " "How soon?" "I cto't teU you that. Probably very soon. When I VB had a httle time to myself and got used to an idea that seems so impossible to me now—" "And I may call you Clorinda, mayn't I?" "I'd rather you'd call me what you like-without ask- mg my permission. I don't seem to have any pennission to giTO. With regard to you"-^again the sweet smile seemed to him what dawn is to summer— "with regard to you I'm only like a beggar at the gates. Do just as you please." "Then I shaU caU you Clorinda— but only when we're alone — jret." 136 THE LIFTED VEIL "Yes; perhaps that will be better." She began taking ofiE the glove of her left hand, speaking while she did so. "To-morrow is Christmas Day, and I've sent yoi' some of the new books. No, don't thank me. I wanted you to see that I thought of you—and that I was grateful. But It isn't enough— now." She drew oflE a ring. "Here- take this." She slipped it into his hand. "It's only a ring— any ring. No one gave it to me; there's no senti- ment attached to it ; I bought it myself. But I want you to have it." As he bent over it and pressed the half-hcop of diamonds to his lips, she went on with feverish rapidity: "It doesn't mean anything— that is, no more than just to mark your extraordinary goodness. Do you remember my saj-ing that I wanted to be put back where I was before? No, perhaps not," she continued, as he looked up and shook his head. "But I did say it; and I feel now as if— as if it had been done. Whatever happens after this— whatever decision I come to— the ring will tell you that— that something seems to have rolled a. -ay from me— that at last I've been set free." With a sudden pressiure of the brake the car stopped near the curb. "Don't you think you could get out now?" It was only after kissing her bared hand rapturously that Bainbridge found himself on the pavement, borne along m the Christinas crowd. He was dazed and ecstatic He would have felt himself waking from a dreaim had it not been for the ring, with its diamond edges, cutting into his clenched hand. Mr CHAPTER X OUT to fill in. or mther to reconstruct, his portrait of »-' Uormda was not. when Bainbridge came to do it ^W^l^t!^^***°^'''*°'*- The figure whoni ?L^J!^^ "* * ^^'y ^°^ '^ "rtained glass ^.,^^^l°"*'^^''^«^*°life. She his both disturbed his vision and rendered it more marvel- «isly beautiful. "«rv«a That is, where he had beheld an ideal, woven of dreams and magic tissu^^here began to emeige a woman who beset his s«ises because she was made of flesh and blood Moreover he was conscious that in ways he couldn't understand she outflanked his mental range. Her verv wilhngness to put herself at his feet was but the sign rf somethmg great in her; her habit of referring to nLio. ries between them of things of which there were no memc^ r« might have harked back to a common life together before either of them was bom. And yet when, a few days after Christmas, she sent for tei. ,t was to show herself in an aspect in which he had not seen her heretofore-simple and domestic. Conscious- ly wnot she had chosen the early part of the forenoon asbest smted to her purpose. Whfle he waited in the ^.l\ ^L::^'^ ^ "^^ ^y "^- « kind of oflSce. that opened from it, where she was evidently talk- ing to the cook. 138 -:■! THE LIFTED VEIL "So ttafs uadewtood. Ctherine. Not quite » much Mlt m the ««i»--«nd the nert ttrne we have «n omelette in come to the Idtdiea myielf and show you how to make it. Ba^bridge could not have said why these words should have been consoling to him; bat a sense o£ consolation foUowed lum ^en he was showr into the little nxan. Where he found her seated at a desk which combined a suggestion of business with French eighteenth-century elegance. A large check-book lay open before her, and ajpUe of ravelopes stamped for the poet stood neatly beadeit. Everything stood neatly. Among the papen there was no disorder; not a pen nor a pencil was dis- placed. He could see her as one of these women who cannot move without producing an eSect of the finished. of the exquisite. ™i««m. He received the same impression from her dress. Dimly he had expected to find her shimmering in green and silver, with emeralds and diamonds round her ned^-or m one or another of the imposing robes she had worn at thar previous meetings. Nothing could have been Idamer than the short, bUck skirt of this morning, nor the long .qien. white collar, a loose frill of lawn, that descended to the bust, where three laige silver buttons, each carved as a different flower, formed her only orna- ment. Her hair, dressed low on the neck, displayed the diapehnessofthehead; on her fingers she wore nothing but her wedding-ring. ^e greeted him with gentle familiarity, without rising from ^e desk. In bowing over her hand and pressing it tohishpshewas,thoughhescaredyknewitasyet doing ^^^FJ°.^.^J^ conception of her as a housewife. lUe fact that she could make an omdette and pay her »39 THE LIFTED VEIL - bills by check brought her down wh(dly from .'^he stained gl^ and within the drde of women he mig! c many Her first words, too, were a reUef to him. "Do sit down. I'm so glad you were able to come. I wanted to a^you about these attacks on Leslie and Maggie Pal- Having been half afraid of some such high note as that on which they had parted a few days earlier, he found the tone dehoously confidential and matterK)f-fact It was suited to the morning, to the oozy little room with its fire on the hearth, its miniatures and figurines, and the cnsp, snowy air outside. He seated himself in an arm^Jiair which relieved any feehng of over-fastidiousness in the surroundings by bemg homey and worn. It was not easy to bring his mmd to Leshe and Maggie and their afiairs; but he saw It as the tactful thing to do. -'J didn't know they were stiU gomg on— the attacks." "Yes; there's another article this week. It isn't worth while looking at it if you haven't seen it already but I wanted to ask you if yon can think of any way bv which they might be stopped." He reflected: "I don't *«r; but it may keep them ^th^^J^*"'^- Th«y'U never beteought to^er m Magg» thinks she's got him undHer t^b and she'U ,^ get him under her thumb tiU irtn^f^r^^- Wh^ he does that-if she'd li^J^ ^^^^ "^K*"* *«°" into subjection of his rr°:?-- "?"* *'•*' P-^^^^P*" «^° « *« keep op^ the wound .^ their relations by stabbing at iT^rn^ ^d only stop them they'd be a source of irritation ^ int^,!"^** " happiness to sit talking with her in this ^^ "^rr* "^PP^*^ *^* *he discussion meant •nore than the object. His rmaria were made in^t ^er he had acquired since knowing her, a mamaer by wh.di he could answer her questions and put forth his cjpmions qmte lucidly, while really thinking atu m oe one for his physical streiurth Th« m Keeping with his spiritual trfBco r^ ♦>,. -^ . nr^l,*^?! T* "*^°^ '''■y ««'««■ ««Mels should ^«^hedulwhathe<»uldathame. Wi^a^^ irSonaSo^'SlslV""* cUss of „H«e or h^ a cha«,p.an of men. New York sbiv^eTT and hourly with men and women he never knewT tlllv at bomfi in h; fully at 1 ty. 9 surroundings as ii and bred in New York. From New Yo •third year, an^ ' he had been 1 "ric, too, he THE LIFTED VEIL getting that notice which intelligence and single-hearted- ness seldom fail to exact from the crowd. His slight figure with its rapid movements, and glowing face with dean-shaven, somewhat ascetic, and distinctly aristo- cratic features, was easily recognized in the streets, and his name was often in print. Men approved of him soberly, while women commended his small, keen blue eyes that looked light through you, and thick fair hair in which they saw a ripple like that made by a summer wind in passing over a grain-field, as helps in treading the narrow way. Of such comments as these, however, or of any comments at all, he himself was scarcely more aware than a locomotive of the opinions of the passengers it drags along. For in his present activities he had the joy of drawing nearer to Clorinda and of seeing her in other lights. It was one of his first discoveries that in the new movements of help she took a part that surprised him. She might have been classed among the many American women who had waked from a state d idleness and helplessness. With the needs of other countries reacting on the needs of their own, there seemed to be bom in them a new consciousness. The sense ; I make the ooDCMsion for the diildnn'i Mke. Othcnriae I can think o* lo greater happineai than to be quit of this ''■'nned big ectablishment— and oo my own again." "So loi^; as there's another woman in Lealie's life," Maggie insisted, with sorrowful determination, "you needn't speak on his behalf. I did what you asked me to, Arthur; I went away with him. But I couldn't go so far as not to see the papers, and— well, we don't gain anything by talking. When you think of what LesHe owes to me, the least, the very kast, you might have looked for was that he should have remained faithful. I don't say," she added, with her gasping sob, "that he should have toved me; but between that and spending my money on other women there's a difference." "My God, Arthur," Leslie exdaimed, on another occa- sion, "it's the money. If I had two thousand dollars a year of my very own I could swaUow everything. I could pay for my dothes at least. But I don't make that since I gave vp my woric at Cohmjbia, either by my lectures or my books— no one wants to pay for political ecooomyf— and so I have to take her checks. When she gives me one I feel as if I was handling a live snake; but I've got to do it." "You haven't got to do it in that way," Bainbridge endeavored to explain. "Between a man and his wife there is, property ^)eaking, no such thing as money. Money is only a counter. It stands for snm^ hi„g not itself. When you've got that, old boy— " "Ah, but when you haven't?" "You set to work to acquire it. One can, you know. Onoe you've done it, it won't matter whether the monev XS4 THE LIFTED VEIL !!",?r'«^y y«« or lUg^,, bec««.e tliat Moect ct «>ethmgwaih«vBlartit8«jaificMce" ™" ■^*" « ^t;. ewy to «y th.t when you don't k«m the IwmiK. "H ywi want to be free 0* the taamlMtJon. LeaKe oM ^yo.o^^j--^:f^^^ ^ ^ why L«he doe«'t Ko «to «pt««^ the "{f*r^i!f i"*o the thing Leslie ««s most about." his sts»r *'^* ^* '^'■'^ -- ^- -^ I,^ll^T^y- "S««=rifi»dh««dependence? «I,^L"'u^'*? *° •*" *^ »*» «°». Maggie. LesKe 2^ rL' '^ "* '^ •*'* ""y "« °f ''hat that ^He^ never have done it if he hadn't believed ^between you and him the« is no such ^^ ^No such thing as money? My dear man. how you ' "Yes, there you are. But what « money? Is it anv ^^gmore than the tote, of exchangeT^ ^d^' tt«e^valent of money the money itself had nVftX «.iiSS'l^^' ^^'^-lentof money is love. "No; the equivatet of money is life, and that's what \ THE LIFTED VEIL L«Ke has given you. He'i put his life in yoor ti«v1 r It's for you to make of it what you will." "And how about my life in his hands?" "Exartly the same thing. I'm not saying that Leslie has done his duty by you any mora than that you've done your duty by him." "l haven't done my duty by him? Weill, I like thatr' "You tkink you've done it because you've given him so much a year. What I'm trying to point out is that you can't interpret your relations to each other in terms of money; that money has no meaning to you and him- that life is all that matters to either of you. When yoj understand that the spring of your action towaid Leslie -whatever he's been or has not been to you-must be blessing and not retaliation, you-U b(^ to get hdd of your duty 1^ the right end; but you won't do it before that." K there was a result from these exhortations it was not immediately apparent. >, Prom his efiforts to stop the publication of paragraphs in which the names of his friends were mentioned in jocular familiarity there was no result at aU. He penetrated on one occasion, to what purported to be an office, in a sinister-looking yellow building, very far east in Twenty-fourth Street. Here a young man, with grim, tight, snapping mouth, and wary, resUess eyes, was tilting in a revolving-chair, picking his teeth, but otherwise doing nothing. Bainbridge having stated his errand without mentioning the names, the young man who kept his hat on his head and retained his position in the revolving-chair, replied, vaguely: "WeU. that wouldn't be in my department" "Then in whose department would it be?" 156 THE LIFTED VEIL The young man waved the toothpick eracefuUy "I couldn't rightly gay." "Would it be poaable to find out'" "I duaW as it would be." He brought the chair to a level position and went on, confidentially. "Say I'll tell you what I'll do. Ill ask Mi« Beans. She's the stenog- rapher, but she ain't here to-day. Leave your address and I'll let you know." Bainbridge did not leave his addms, but, twtuming at a latw date, he found Miss Beans. She proved to be a tared httle woman, of delicate features, and a tremor of the hp that portended tears. In answer to Bainbridge's complaint she spoke prettily «id sympathetically. "Oh, dearl that would be Mr Davis's department, and he's now in the West. Hell regret it so." "Hasn't he left any one to take his place?" "Wdl, no. he hasn't. It's very inconvenient when anything <» tifle the thing; b«t In the matter of p«-_ m, . . ^ -c^sftU, dimming W^elS^i^T' 'T^' "«* who had consigns ^ St^ b^*^_*^* ^-^^^e The judge was a snuTelSy ^^"^ "* <^°rt. »«>« upper lip which lU fflSe'l™"^*.'^' '^^^ * «»««>t«ted mov«ent of to J^fT-^- *^' '^^^P- «^. he^jght havX' £^t 2r^. « iittle things to wSch^ ^^ ^ ""^^^ the«^rfh«e training, and a iZZ^ ^ °^ *ttention-^lisdpIine. THE LIFTED VEIL H cad Be •» jood M to t«n niB how «. «_ L. wfll be .ttoiaed." *•'*"•*"«*' BMnbridje «nde«vored to be dMT "ti,. Avenue, between—" •«»■ u ir ._■ ui ^,^^^,.,c^ ^*^ rve me to mrfenrtand th«r J'. 1 .^ benevolent intention. Have the g«dn«^, * r" "' ''^ 2Lts„-;*2^^cen«tirxr.^t^ «i'^ SeS; ^t tl^::^ re* l^"""^ hesitation, and doee ^^^Jr »^ ' fortnight's «^«t, tl^lSl^'S^^^L^l^- «We«ieeve-s thewillingness^eWw^f JT^^ contingent on ''^^^^'^^^^^^"'"'"''^'^ ^'^ tHing,.. ^ the «^, L:^^^;^^; yea« a^T ""'«''«»«»*• *• never heanl of thirty "Of course the child's unhamw •• ilt.v. t> «hemently. "Wto^Z^^' ^^"^ ^'^e agreed, «P«rienceLh«r^Bri£t's^h"Sf'i; "^ ««* «« it means her salvation ? I^^Lll^ "^PI»n«s when altogetheiw. .^^- ^" "* t^"""!™* of Pansy THE LIFTED VEIL mu thing ^... ^™"^'*'*^*l'o are boted with ev«y. Miss Downie never vidderf K.,f >», She was overcome hTo^' *® '^ overcome. «P«m.ent to be tried on Pansy Wfldf Si^!!^ happened to be backed by a^-Iv • . *^*'°° resulting in "wort^^^ ^^ niisunderstanding. as a revival of her iL^^^ ^ ^°^ "^ ta^en institution's fu^'S^ ^ '^Jf" 'T* *" *^ stances made it diffiadtfor ♦hf'K^^^' *^ ^^'^^- Mis. Wilde. ^™* *^ consent of The difficulty here was to niake Pansv's ™*w , m a manner that could he ,^^a^ ^^^ ^P^ak to Bainbridge tLT^t Z^ ^^"^"^^ ^* '^ Plaia o-^ it. It was^i'^^'S^S- '^ f^ owmne it she tnnt +*,» , ™ "lat m dis- that ,^e Lt-;t tttTLt ""^ ""^-' --» ^'^' «««'^^^<»ce, "and now I'm about THE LIFTED VEIL ^•^"tJt. u'* "*• "^^ '*' "yJ*"*- H I hadn't I ^•^f V w "f^P ««P«*»Me. if there's any way^ dc«« .t. whjch I da«, «.y there ain't, and that's" aul'vl "But it iai't all you've got to feel. Mis. Wflde." Thwe observations were made not bitterly or perversdv motherly woman, made for the n«.~rf..f i. """■s've, li^^Z^.K sunoundings. In this kitchen- ™ tne more terrible mdications of want. Since the i6i THE LIFTED VEIL <*«Mtwi'g tappet had to be tmww.4 *i ...- Ba^dg» w« pun«ely making his visit kteln the •ftemoon, so as to find her ooW «rf,Jr *!_ . she found soaoe. "A iXt.. * , ^'^*'°° wherever uuuu space. A lady has taken Pansy ah«adv and see what's come of it " «>"aiuy, ana they have your approval." "«t™i tnai DouWi^ the smaU ovals die had cut. she placed them ^ Z^ '"."Wdng.pan. making two J^^ ^mcuth qmvered « d« spoke, though she did^ best to mamtam an air of detachment. « She wo«lH„v «*e above it. I ve got my other children to think of i6a THE LIFTED VEIL Md bring up respectable. Pansy can go where she liket •nd do what she likes, for aU 1-ior all I—" Bambridge saw two great tea« beginning to trickle Bomy. For all you care. Is that it?" ^ rf «d the fringes of dough into a tight little ball dabhmgrtu^totheflourontheboanl. "mLa^^s M It s full. You can't put anything more into it^^^ And your pitcher was full alreadj^full of trial and sorrow. I understand that." "Paiay had no need to add to what I had to bear" S U t!^ "^f her small cake flat and doubling 'it t^f^^^'*M""°^- "She didn't so much as ask me tofoigiveher. She just wouldn't teU me the man's name ««d ran away. I couldn't mn after her. Ihadmyothe^ ^dren to take «re of. and I didn't dare to l^^W a you blame me for that—" "I'm not blaming you for anything. I'm only s^ irimt that now that we have a chance to make thini be^ and «^er an round, it would be well to use rtT and we can't do that tiU you agree." VI don't see what you want me to agree for. I've eot nothmg to say to it one way or t'otheTlf you'dlS ^ on account^P^ that I have . . . anTthafSd M^ H^ pret^ding to be so fond of her, and yet ^ her out mghts to tramp the dty with the iLd faiows who. ... If I could find out his name I'd have the law on him-a chfld of seventeenr' "Isn't it possible that on that point Pansy has been v-«ttanwehave? What good w^ it dTS.ljJtJ to know who the man B ? We could only punish him bv^ «afang her t^ubles more public; and she^r^ aZ5 harftmieasitis. You know that, don't you?" ^^ 163 THE LIFTED VEIL The mother tnnwd iharply to the stove, lAence she took a cup trf melted butter that also held a pastry-brnsh. By the time she had returned to the table the proud lip had stiffened suffidently to enable her to say: "I don't know anything about it, and— and I don't want to know. K I'm to bring up my other children respectable I must nse above the whole thing." "You can't rise above anything by turning your back on It and refusing to know what it is." She was painting the inside of her rolls with melted butter as he went on^ pitilessly, "After the baby was bom poor little Pansy went to work too soon." He aUowed this information to sink in while she cut off another lump of dough from the main stock in the big round pan. "Her first job was in a candy-factory. She had to give it up when they found she had a child." More flour having been sprinkled on the boaid she began again the process of dabbing the new lumo mto it. *^ "She was turned out ne s a pretty child, and in some ways bidable; but she's jmpertment." As further infonnation she said, when she had reached the hall, "We haven't told her anything so you'll find it all to do." ^^ Because Clorinda was frightened and nervous and unused to Homes she said under her breath as Miss Scattergood withdrew, "Oh, that woman!" For the same reason, she murmured, "Oh, how dreadful!" as she looked round the room. Bainbridge laughed. "Ifs only dreadful to a super- sen^tive taste. As a matter of fact it's very dean, and-" Clean yes. I've never seen anything so clean in all my hfe. Its dean to the point at whidi your soul cries out for dust. And this odor"-her ddicate nostrils qmvered- this smell of disdpline"-^e gave a Uttle sniff- of disinfectant"-she sniffed again-"and of good wiU-it s so diaracteristic of the methods of Christian love imparted by machinery that I should have recog- nized it even if I didn't know where I was." Bainbridge loved the new freedom of speedi she had THE LIFTED VEIL begun to allow herself when akme with him. He loved this way of going about with her, with interert* in eotmnoo like those of Bwi and wife. "You'd find «ie niachinery necessary," be laughed again, "if you had thirty way- ward gifts to take care of." "But I shouldn't have tbem. It would never have occurred to me to try anything so clumsy. I'd do what I could for them individually or I sho«dd make no attempt at aU." "I suppose it was the no attempt at all that our worthy forefathetB were afraid of . I can imagine that they had as much scorn of Christian tove imparted by machinery as you and I— only they understood that it must be that or none." She continued her inspection of the room. "These ate interesting, these old lithographed heads. They must date from the thirties and forties." She worked off some of her restlessness by passins from portrait to portrait, reading the names. "That's a Stuyvesant, the old man with the neckcloth; this old lady who looks like Queen Victoria's mother was a Rintoul— must have been some relation "tJiely- They tWK ,, J r"^ ^ ''^'^ *^ •^e*! »'««lf along that she had no thought of approaching deliverance. When die appeared at last in the cavernous dusk of the UaU. her face was as white as her blouse. An old wine- odored skirt hung limply and dejectedly about her little persTO. A wme^ored tie, faded and carelessly knotted. Jl^r^^Jf l!f.' ^ ^ «^'^*^' '^^ » stained^ bedraggled flower that has once been in full bloom Her hands hung heavily at her sides. la the staring of her * H^u T" ^^^^ '"^ ^^ ^^ °f some new twist to Ae net that had ^eshed her. The dull stupefaction of suffering was m the degree to which her lips, lovely in spite of their Woodlessness, fell just a Httle open Mute and questioning she stood on the threshold not darmg to enter the room. Like a spirit conjured up fojm uiwnagmable depths, she seemed to ask why she had been a^^. There was something piteously dignified in the Baiabridge had no difficulty in reading what was pass- ing m Qonnda's mmd. Her stilled attitude, her sudd«. i68 THE LIFTED VEIL P^te hdptesnej, and speechl«8n«. nuute it ctair. ?fwiT. ^°^u~ ^*^ *° incamttian o* t«gX Slt w^ r^ *^* '^""'^ '«»« *«^^i Xi^XT^ n«st be caUed. can£«»ted eadi When aorinda found voice at last it was with st™n™ u you U come and hve with me." In the wide, vacant eyes there was no sign of coniore- henaon or response. rampre. a '^=* '^°'^ '*609 USA ■.^B (716) 482 - OJOO - Phone ^= (716) 288- 5989 - Fox THE LIFTED VEIL ■jj!, mi she took her name. ^^ ^°'^^'' ^o™ which "And I understand you " PlnWr,^- «>mething in itself. wTlST^^ ^'^"^- "^hafs but it isn't what weVe^got to th ntf """"^^ ''""'^ ^'^ Bainbridge says. ThZ teU ^, /V"'* "°^' ^^ Mr. wrong-that it'puIhS itte " ZT. '''''I '° ^^^^ do is help each other wien th. „^"\^^^* ^« have got to us. That's what I J. u P""'*»ent has overtaien youVe done:S yc^VdrneVat? '''' ''' ''— hadn't done it you wo^!,^?, L '^''"* ^'°"- ^^ y°" weren't in trouryor^l"^/" *^°""^' ^"^ ^^ ^ou needs things it cries andl -J"^"' '"'■ ^^ ^ ^aby human he^ ^^V^to^ZtlTr^'^'^''' ^ it can't do for itself, ^t's a nttf;. "V^ *''"«^ Pansy—" ^'^^ ^ httle how I feel now, Bainbridge hastened to interoret " wi, * t, , sleeve means is that she h.T^ ,^^* ^"^^ ^^^der- you. in which you'd have "\'"^"^"* ^^ t° offer take it we've a.^„gedlat ^^ .T' " ^"^ ^^n* *» The judge has Td' you'^^n^J^^!- ^^ to do so. your mother. But ,I~^ ^'"' Downie-^„d you'd rather stay hel-^^ ^" '^' "^^^^ y^- K t^e72;.S:Z' 'sfeT °'^^"'^-- ^ot through opening Lr cS sSng Tlf *° '^"'^r^"^ ^^^ the and feU. "^ *° ^g^> as her bosom rose "If you'd rather stay here " rinW,,^, u , • THE LIFTED VEIL a certain amount of libert™ .f. "^ '"^'^ ^ say-^nd regular wages IX"..""*' "" ^°" mother andThe Mhr^^Z T ''°^'^ '^^'P y°«r There was nothing to precede or heraH P.n., ■ u only hoped it-it would die " ^ ^~ knSslL'fde^rgiri'^rnl^ J^°^^^ '^^"^'^ ^ '^^ "ie giri wnen Bainbndge put out his hand 173 THE LIFTED VEIL [if ^2°^Jr- "^°i ''* '''• ^^ «»"• She wants to tefl «s-toteU some one. It wiU ease her mind, and do her P°«""g !>«• confession mto the air. "I didn't do it ... I wouldn't have done it if ft had lived T'^ I only hated :t. . . . No, I didn't hate it. . . ft was l±e somethmg I Wed and hated at the same time It wa3 so httle and . . . and helpless . . buT!t had eyesldcehisandlknewitwouldhavehiscolo Sr It was bom with a lot of hair ... aU douny and soft" ■ : . It was a httle boy . . . its name was Lionel I.oneiL«n 1. . . . I called him Lemuel after pop^ " ' ' and L,onel because I liked the name. . . . I wSt caU t h^s name. ... I didn't know what it Ts r found out it wasn't Gussie ... he iust ri^n,; \^ I n^e to fool me. ... I was afraid T.^^l Z^ Wee hmx and so I hoped it would die. . But ? didn't faU rt. . . . They said I did, but I didn't' I I d^dnt know how I couldn't do anything to it -th my own hands. . . . Once when it cried^n he mght and g:ve me away in the house where I roomed in bS I took hold of xt, ,t was so littl^and soft-and hdplS- W couldn't. ... He ^d if I'd doit he'd-hettry fatS"" ^^"''"'^^ questioned, gently. "Who? Its iJntu "^f"^' ''^P'"« ^^ ^y^ ^^ and staring off mto the distance. "He come to see me once. That waswheaIwa.mMooneySt,«t. . . . Iwas there tbS i?4 THE LIFTED VEIL days. He said where his It was the longest anywhere. . a post-card and he come that night, he was going to Ught out to the West . wife was." "So he had a -^e?" She nodded again. "I didn't know that till— tiU it was too late to do any good. . . . He said we was engaged fox 'fZ '^^:<^J^ me ... and give me a set of fox furs . . . axid buy me lunches ... and take me to Coney . . and everything like that ... and then I found out he was married ... and so when he come that mght, and I told him I'd been turned out of so many places when they found out I had the baby, he said-he said we must-we must make away with it He said that If Id kill :t I wouldn't have any trouble with it aftenvard, because he'd carry it off in my suit-case . like I brought it in But I couldn't kill it . . and then he got mad and said he'd do it himself. So he took It out of tne bed. . . . it was sloping awful'sound, because a girl I knew who'd had a baby of her own had give me some drops to put in its milk . . . but when I saw him take it up ... it was an awful small baby It didnt weigh no more than five or six pounds and me not having the proper food for it ... and having to drag It about ... and keeping it shut up in the suit-case tor an hour and more at a time when I had to move I^st let out one awful scream and snatched it away from ''You wouldn't have hurt it, then, for anything?" " No, sir; not when it was right up to me like that But he swore something awful .. . and said I was trying to ruin him because I was under the right age . . . and that I d made hun throw up his job at the paper where 175 THE LIFTED VEIL r ,1 fiJ Miss Hxggins used to send me with the things she wanted to have pnnteJm Chicago. . . . That's where I mlS Miss HiSs "^ if :rr ' ^T --'' ''^ ^•^'i'- nifcgins ... It was always him who took th«n ^jn Twenty-fourth Street . . . down byle S ni2"thf !r ''T"^ '°T^ ^'°^"'^=^' -ho had not recog- nized the signiiicance of these words "A hi., ^Iii wa.sn%h;f ■ , '^^® "^ °"^ hypnotized. "Kilrov Lsl KIrr' • •■ • "° "°" ^''^'^ " -- G-Z v^ssie Kilroy was just a name he give me T don t know what his real nan.e was Tnd Th.r. ' h I wouldn't tell momma \iZ,' ' ' "^at s why cu iiiomma. . . . Momma was awful mad • . • but what was the use-//,^„? Mr^^r^ u t.k. my ™iid„. . I S^lTfi ■■',7"»'' "> t-j,^ i,„u T , . ■ ■ ^ ioiew tnat if I could ppt rwl nf the baby I could go reg'lar bad, like Mary Swet a girl I used to go to school with. . . . ThTy leTw,;;. m IVWy Street, though they knew wJat she It ^ but tjey wouldn^keep me because I had little Lionel' T;ke sl^t' wh ^ """' • • -ncl so I had to go to like btreet, where it was something fierce «J\vl fuler and tretfuler anrl T „™» * • ^ about home3 whe.^ I o^old ' il ^"' '° '"' °"' who'd take it to nur^ T! " ' ' ' °^ ^^"^^ ^"nan thing . . . anriTa.'afJTr^'-'irr^- .etting too big for the suit-c^.lhoth' it kept'so'aJ^ i;6 THE LIFTED VEIL smaU . . and aU I could do was to bury it right in the middle of the bed when I went to work. . . I got back to It every minute I could ... and so long as I had the drops It didn't hardly stir ... it seemed to get to de- pend on them like But tliat day I couldn't get away at the lunch-hour ... a lot of extra work had come in to the laundry ... and old Stcptoe what run it said that any girl that went out to lunch could stay out to lunch ... and I'd had such an a^^'ful job to find a job after they bounced me from the candy-factory . and so everything was against me ... and when I got back to my room and turned down the bedclothes I just let out one awful holler ... and I didn't know anything more tiU I woke up and found I was— in— m jail." The recital ended, her head dropped on her arms and she cned softly. There was no passion in her grief- nothing but the gentle weeping of a heart relieved of part of Its load. Clorinda passed round the table and laid a hand on the quietly heaving shoulder. "I shaU rome for you to-morrow morning, Pansy dear You'U be packed and ready by eleven, won't you ' That's imderstood." But Pansy quivered at the touch. " Don't have noth- mg to do with me," she sobbed. "I'm better here It's all I'm fit for. I did kill it-in my feelings-^ometimes. I dare say I'd have come to it, if I got desperate— and I was pretty near desperate, anyways." She raised her head to add: "When I turned down the clothes the poor little thing had wriggled itself over on its back, trying to get its breath like. It didn't die from nothing but want of breath-that and not being rightly fed. Its eyes was wide open, and it seemed to be saying: 'Oh, what did 177 mi f THE LIFTED VEIL you go away and leave me for?' I ^. „ ^ ^-t as plain ,3 . the HtUe lip^ Js^.e'Te^Jr -»* airS'^enS' ^Tj^ ^^'^^ "P Seventh Avenue and the only w^JlreTr^.^ tf'"^ "' ™- having the windows of the H-T™ ■ ^^ necessity of = S"^:-r^-^eXn^. -ir;;:^^rts^-^.— the^ -tr ,s^£a^r^.i;^:^-/jwhtful„.. .-t^ "That's p:.,bai>ly heLTl^r ',!^'"^' ^* ^''^ P°°r- ^^ - for the overtaxS"^"^^"^^-^^ ^'""^ what reswu-ces. You've alwarp^tTT ''' *^ ^"'^ "^ >*« upon-resources of mS oTin.T '^^^''^ '" ^^> ^^ck vast upholding civiTatWill ^^'?''' °^ «^"<1^' ^f a conceive of yoLd7^^StiSv'rr.'"°"- ^°" -"'' to turn or what to dZ^h^/ T T™« ^'^''^^ way « you for their suLrtinr.^ J '.'''^^" ''^"''«'t morrow moving. T^L "ret , ""^ *«^ b«akfast to- with literaUy no ma ^^^1 w. "' ,° ^'^^ P°°^ ^^^ing but of affection and tToughrEvTmh '"^ ^^ '"""^^ the wants of eveiy day Anrf J:^?^'"^ ' used up for fortune, such as thit Jl V ^^"^ ^" ^^t-°nal mis- -«es on them, they cal^ltT'' *° ^^^ ^-^y. the exhausted Alpine fevS tl V^^' '^'^^''^ J^^e falling and can't ^^ToS" fT/'^ ^^^-*« you see Pansy's mother vo„ 'n « !1f °^ '*' "^^y- When THE LIFTED VEIL They're not caUous; they've to meet an extra demand only given aU they had " I'And we don't lift a finger to help them." . Some don't; others again R„7^;. ject, one through which we dcm't 'sS Jr If ""^^ '"'^ Our attempts are too off,^ °°" "^ see our way as yet. surface, when weneS^to^^T/ "''"" '^'"'^°« <« '''e we're afraid to LTthe H f^" *" '^^ ^^'^'- ^hile world is afza,?of itXl Jh" '~^*' '""^ Philanthropic I'm coming to W e^TXr^v/T'^'^^'^'^^^-y- the evil; that S^mT^ T^'°^^ "^y ^^^^'^te^ between capital and 2i^'r'' t""^ ««Prom:ses on old ganient. ^^t^^.T' *''n "'" P^'^^ °ur civilisation is M^ing to^iant, °"'. =° '°"e - nght end-" He broke off to^ '?" ^ ^"^ ^y th. think of changing your mi^J,"° "^^ ^^ y°" d°n't duS' 'SuSTwhaSh'"-^" ^'"^^ ^-^-^h the I? it'swhatTihoLdhttferi^ti:^^ "^^^-^-^ in her place. I seetn-I LZ, '. u ^^ *^P*^ 'o do, aU-to'Lve hLTact'uSrhJpX'^ '^T '* feconds went by before she US.*°p°'"-; ^ ^^'^ by othere is bad enough- i^TZT^:, ^^^^^^^tion most frightful thing S' nl !f -^^^d^r^tion is the no loophole by which vou ll T"^ '"*'' ^^^^ ^''^^'s because poor ItZZZ^r^Z^ ^''- ^"""l ^"^ '*• I*'^ like my own-'' ^ ^""^'^ '^ ^* '^tt'*' so much ffis brows went up. "So much like yom^." -Ssrhrr^--j,---oney -iupherw^ps. "T^^SS^^y-Ja^etnC THE LIFTED VEIL " I've— T'™ ^^^ u ^ *° ^y °^er her shoulder- Chn:;;L Ev"- ^ about-about what you asked me ^n worst out of which he must know how to make the best sp£^^pL7whtri^^^^^^^^ change of friendly :^arks with nLZ^h a sit y^g Englishman, of the indoor servaT^t tith^ thTt^k 7 " '"-"^ ludicrously out of ke^^rv^th the task of arranging teacups and passing nL;, Xf was perhaps to put off the temfic mcTlit-ihS of m or disappointment-as long as possible ZX I So THE LIFTED VEIL took his time in crossing the frien'^lv hall, and look ing round on it as one who might be .eeing it for the ^f liTr "\"°^'^d the shaded lamp, a soft blur of colored hght, burning in the empty libraiy, the dark openmg to the dining-room, the bit of blue-green fapestn^ the portrau that might have been a Gainslx^rough At the fct tummg of the stain: he glanced lovingly at the cucumber green of the celadon jar on its caned black stand, not because he felt the mysterious appeal that «nanates from old Chinese art, but i^ause the beautiiu thmg nad so often seen him go up or down in ? .pe or happmess^ All the uncertainty of the prisoner coming in to hear che hfe-or-death verdict of the Jury was in his ^tsteps^« his heart, as he cominued his way ufwarf Of one thtng only was he sure: Whatever the fate, he was mwardly prepared for it. He h^ passed the turning of the stairs when he fancied he heard a man's voice from the drawing-room above. Ha^ng gone up a stqp or two farther, he paused and made hmaself sure of ,t. The stairs had a second tuming-not ^acious and at right angles to itself like that which made room for the celadon jar. but a mere arc of a cm:le v^hence the upper haU and a portion of the dmwmg-room were visible. Clorinda was in the ix,r- !r^ the drawing-room which was not visible; but standing before the fire, with a "land on the Uite marble of the mantelpiece, and directly within 3ain! bridges range of sight, was a man. .pen Jr ^ "^." ^^"^ Bainbridge knew instantly he had seen before arid yet was for the moment unable to place. He was a tall, broad-shouldeied man. with a handsome, rather sensuous face, on which the mustache and im- i8i ■>'i THE LIFTED VEIL pern! were very slightly touched with gmy. As Bain- bndge lagged on the stain, his irmnediate^Lght wm" Wher. have I seen him? What connection hfve I v^' ™k- Tr'n"""^""' »mething dramatic aTd romantw. The idea was no sooner in his mind than the name came staggering, as it were, to his lips- "ifs- it's Malcohn Grant." ^ Of the clarity of Bainbridge's vision dimne the few seconds ,t took him to mount the remainrg stjs a^d twih. ^V "^"^ '* °^^ ^"^^"1 't came to him that the difference wrought in his consciousness was a^ "^whrth";'"* "f '^ ^' °^" darkness an" cha^'- ^"d had been or h^ by God only knew what misgivings on his part her^lorinlTL'' f"" "'• Bainbridge. had known fZ ?! u G'^'l^^^ve she had tried to reveal her «Sed"i:^ "" ""'" ^'^^ ^P^^^-^ t*-* ^e J^-i The fart that she had this impression explained a hun- him, but which were as clear to him now as chaos was dear when light flashed upon it. ^^ l83 THE LIFTED VEIL bitr Lr£ ttr "^ •'-o ^ Hi. Had Ven.weU.tHen; He must know. He had no doubt now OS to what a,nst.tuted the Highest Possible, ^e mu"T never leam rom a hint that should ascape hin, oTso ^1"Z fi^^ ^ '"^ '^'' ^' '^ ^^-t -d^W thr^T'ri TT *? *^'' <»"sciousness before reaching the teshold of the dmwing-nxmi, he was able to cZlt L ^e who faces no more than the commonplace. ^riLX was st,l stanchng, a l.ttle da^e.!, perhaps, but w,°h no outward trace of cmbamxssment. Without b a i or affectat,on of self^x^ntrol she was sufficiently TstrZ ^eiTatrnTbeTr-^ ''' ^^ ^' ^^ "- - - "You know Sir Malcolm Grant," Bainbridee hear,! h^ -ying, as he entered the „«m. It reached hLT^t If from a long way off. that she added: "He^ p^'in^ clZf ^'" •''°^' °" ^'^ ^^y ^° buy hoVses ITZ Canadian contmgent to the British anny, and Has been good enough to wait to see me." CHAPTER xm TT was plain to Bainbridge that Sir Malcohn Grant's 1 astomshment at this unexpected meeting was not less violent than hts own. During an instant for which no polite conventions or instincts of courtesy could possibly have been suffidetit, the baronet's handsome, rather ex- pre&^onless face went blank. He offered his hand me- chanically as Bainbiidge extended his. " I— I took the Hberty cf waiting for Mre. Gildersleeve " he stammered, as though an apology had been demanded, when they told me she was expected home to tea " Quite so," Bainbridge assented, aloud. To himself he was saying: "If Clorinda marries me he'll think that I've been a traitor." And yet the Canadian's words gave him the keynote he v^ mentally in search of. The meeting was to be on the basis of the sunple sociabilities. There were to be no explanations, nor any impUcations that each of the three held a world of thoughts in reserve. Bainbridge was able therefore, to go on with a series of obvious remarks, to ask the baronet how long he had been in New York and to learn the name of his hotel. In a voice that spemed as u 'I ""? ^ ^^"^ ^"^ transmitted from another sphere' ne heard Clormda say: "How hot it is here! They'll bring tea in a minute. Why don't we all sit down?" ""I'ute. 184 THE LIFTED VEIL kept his eyeT^S„tht^."«*^-thy. *-, that each expression. ^ "^^ °° P'^t^'^ °f being an ;; You've come straight from Montreal?" Val^,er Isn't that a training-camp v •Tne Canadian deserifwi tu^ s "^ip. which s^^:s,t^d?his'S.r'? ^'"" °° paring to take o^ iri^Z , «»>Patnots were pre- He dfd so SpEuv S, "Jf '" ~""^'"S ^''^ '^°ri'l- soon as navigation otv.„<. „ '" "™ sail from Quebec as Quebec and Eo^^ JT, "^"^^ « aU parts o£ They've their o^^i the mantmie provinces, too. '■Snll!i,T.w ^'^^ng-'^amp in New Brunswick-" Splendid that you're able to work like^^V" n • to make it worth while to^ah^ u^^ ^ "^ *°° "^^ ^. THE LIFTED VEIL rv«been able to contribute is cash-till lately they dis- «^ that I know a thing or two about hLes Ts a bit rough to feel yourself a slacker when half the fcflow^ y(«know are shedding their blood; but it seems thVS h t^ end Bainbridge found it possible to follow such i«iarfa as these with one side of his mind while with the oth^ he confronted the seething mass of facts irwwi h,s destmy tod become involved. As far as he taew ht State of mmd he felt like a man who has been gallanUy and 3oy«,sly sailmg over an exhilarating sea Ld svZ S'w^tf^^"'^"^^-, H--^'='-''tofcSiil'. oZ^l ""^^y °^ '^^"S calm, of betraying no ovenvhehmng sense of danger, of living that pSar minute as a man should Uve it. no matter wh^was to iT!,'"^^"'^- ^« '"^t^ to ^ve the women and 2i^' r^^ ^l"^ '"'^"'^ ""^^ °*erwise quite unheroic find within themselves, enabled him to talk t'^'^ T^ T"^"^ '^*' "^« Clorinda had leiS. toteke off her gloves and lay them out neatly on the table Sir' Tr ^ "^ ^** P"^ •* ^'^ ^^ 8l°ves, aiid otherwise get her bearings. tn^l \^^^ V^ nian-instinct Malcohn Grant kept L l! °^'. '^^' had been started as the least personal one he could choose. It had the advantage that to^th Bambndge and Qorinda it was new an^fo some de^ To the d«-gyman's spiritual insight, too, the Canadian was the fii^t instance of that mimcle of which he was already heanng tales-the man transfonned, and in some IT" T ^'i* ^y ^'^^ *° °"* °^ *e great causes emph^zed by the war. As he sat silent, oT^g no more than the questions that would spiir the other man i86 on to talk, his i THE LIFTED VEIL now I '■ surface BcoUectionsofthesceneiflhi wo years ago. struggled up t< t'ws "4r::uritrs^s'7 ^'^°" '^^ ^'^' ■the tmces of the dub^; 1 ^^^<^' fleshly face, business. Thel^ L b^T^^' ^ *e place of more. He trdghtZvTh^ ■ ^^ *°'^' ^<^ ''«'« suffered a care Lv^ hat vJ^ * "'^' ""^"^ ^^""^ the counten^ th JL ^^**^ * reflection. If in and^Stic ft^r'^"^"^*='^"'A°8'^Sa,o^" wasonheSitr^^r"?^*''^^- I* «om,w we die, nSt hav^ T ""^ '""^' ^°^ *°- and its future ^!pl ^^^ ^ '*^ """'^ at the time and the eyes more tWhtS Tl^ "^"^^'^^y S^ver. upward in the scale Tb^' ^^"^ ^, '"^^^^ ^^ep being bom where the^ S^ been JT "M ^ '°^ ^^ hen, was making hii^f „, v . .^ a body; as if the nothing bu^rZn^'nlS ttt *'"^ ''"' ^ than in deed, one got in^ a ZS InZ "^ ^^*^- be-recorded heix>isms which woSTI^ "^''^-*°- epoch memorable, andSZlI^LTZ-"^^ '^ sheer force of nat onaStv «^ Canadian, by the sense a partidST^*^ """^ cooperation, was in some the'^tLX^lLr tray'^rt ^^""^^ *'-^''* Clorinda orfered,ld^S^„ tSUle^'."^"""^''' ^^"^■•^"^^^^-"-yc'^- "Sir st-nger or the^^rh^Sy^ t^^ f ^^^ wh^d. hints that we. reaHy S.,'l:^'^::l ii THE LIFTED VEIL meaning. There were so many things lor him to think of that, for the moment, at any rate, it was only through trifles that his mind could work. When Grant stepped forward to take his cap Bainbridge watched to see whether he and Clorinda would exchange glances or allow their hands to touch. When they did neither he reminded himself that Grant had only wanted to many her; it was not he who had been her lover. "My God! she's been a man's mistress!" He was obliged to repeat the words, and repeat them again, in order to assimilate the fact. She had been a man's mistress— and he was supposed to have known it itbta he asked ha to be his wife! She had been a man's mistress— and he whose life was devoted to the sanctities was in love with her! Whose mistress had she been? The question surged up slowly oat of the heaving chaos of his spirit, only to recede and go down again. It re- ceded and went down because Qorinda said, "Mr. Bain- bridge, I think >'ou like it weak, with cream and no SUgii-." She made the statement looking at him — looking at him confidently— looking at him significantly, and with the faintest, yet most eloquent, glimmer of a smile. He forced himself to return the smile and" decline the tea, while it came bade to him that the veiled woman had said: "There was a man! ... if he had only insisted more ..." And again: "What really happened was with some one else." How many men had there tjeen, and how far down did his own name come on the list ? He „ould not have said that as yet he was suffering acutely. He was too bewildered for active suffering, too i88 THE LIFTED VEIL confused. The thing that was to make him suffer was too monstrous. To connect it with the high-bred woman, whose thin, graceful hands were moving so defUy among the objects of silver and porcelain, was too great a strain on the faculties. It was absurd mcrcdible, and yet ... ' "I'm afraid," she said, as Grant seated himself near her. that we must seem very idle and callous to workers like you.'' "Not a bit of it," he replied, readily. "We'i« very nmch touched by your sympathy and all your help " "It's true," she said, pensively, "that one's friends- troubles are not one's own trouoles, however keenly one may sympathize. To those engaged in the fight that fact must give this whole country an air of aloofness, but I assure you some of us are very deeply moved." It was the inevitable subject, and as Bainbridge lis- tened he was thankful that it should be so absorbing No private drama could be thrilling enough to blunt the appeal which all mankind seemed to be putting forth sunultaneously, so that there was neither affectation nor self-compulsion in the ease with which Clorinda and her guest were able to dismiss other concerns and give them- selves u' to the topic. Outwardly Bainbridge found her little short of marvel- ous. Except for the first few minutes of seeming dazed at finding her unexpected visitor, she had remained mistress of herself. She had neither blanched nor be- trayed undue self-oonsdoHsness. Only a woman with some exceptional blend of courage in the character could have so borne herself in the face of the actuaUties As far as the eye could judge, she was as cahn, as simple, as If Malcolm Grant had never impressed her imagination. 189 i THE LIFTED VEIL as if there had never been on his part some htuniliating night, or on heis some strange refusal. Was it his flight or her refusal that had brought matters between them to an end, after the interview between Grant and himself m the study in West Forty-eighth Street, two yeare ™^-; I"»^ been the one or the other-but which? While he tried to postpone aU such speculation to a minute when he could give himself up t6 it without restraint, it torced itself, in spite of his efforts to keep it back. Who was she? What was she? What extraordi- nary episodes had she passed through in that life of hers that seemed outwardly so placid and yet so violently disturbed within? How w, s he to subdue this flaming thmg to his own patient round of well-doing as a clergy- nian? Was it possible to think of her as going regularly to church and being a gentle, comforting hostess to duU parishioners? Raging fire she had called herself "I feel as if my love would scorch you— would bum you up " she had said on Christmas Eve. Well, would it? Could It? Was there something baleful in her against which his ^intual defenses wouldn't be able to hold out? Or was there a way, a way he didn t .se as yet, by which the Highest Possible might still be reached, and be reached through her, in spite of everything? He had said to him- self , on entenng the house, that whatever the fate in store for hun he was prepared for it; but had he been prepared for this? Oddly enough, it was preparation of which they were speaking at the tea-table as their words floated over to mm in his place by the fire. '•Rum go," Grant was saying, as he munched a slice of buttered toast, "my being off to Kentucky like this Sort of thing I never expected." 190 THE LIFTED VEIL Clorinda responded sympathetically. "But you must be very glad to be doing it. At a time like the present anythin , by which one can be useful is a positive boon to oneself." She added, thoughtfully: "And as far as that goes, isn't all of life a rum go? I can't think of any- thing that will upset calculation, and defy it, so skilfully as the march of events." "Thing is," the baronet stated, as though he were distilling an original bit of wisdom, "to be prepared for the unexpected, which is what I'm afraid good old England — " "Yes, but what is being prepared? — ^for ansrthing? — " "Well, in England's case—" "Oh, I know what it would have been in England's case — guns and shells and shoes and that sort of th'ng. But I'm thinking of ourselves. One gets so outmanoeu- vered by life, so to speak, so taken by surprise. It's as if we were the prey of some grim and sportive power that had nothing better to do than play tricks on us." Sir Malcohn seemed to ponder the possible bearing of this speech on the present curious meeting. "Of course one year is different from another," he conceded. "Oh, but it's the ways in which it's different! If one could only guess beforehand, or be ready. You can't even reckon or forecast with any likelihood of being right." That Grant was searching for hidden meanings Bain- bridge was sure from the way in which he looked at her. "Isn't it a matter of reaping what one sows?" "No, because one doesn't reap it — not as far as I can see. One sows an acorn, let us say, and one reaps the deadly nightshade." " Why not say a rose?" XSJI WW gpfP THE LIFTED VEIL Bainbridge saw her look toward himself, with eye* cunously shining. "WeU, I'm willing to say a lose-^on certain occasions. My point is only that you never can tell. Whether it's a rose or the deadly night- shade. It's equaUy surprising when you're lookine for an oak." "And would you rather have the oak.'" "One would rather have what one is prepared for wouldn't one? One doesn't always want to be hurled about, from one astonishing situation into another—" It was Grant who threw the personal note into this. I hope you don't mean my coming and waiting for you this afternoon. It was a bit cheeky on my part—" "Oh dear, no," she tried to answer lightly. "I'm so glad you did." " You see, I've only this one day— just now." "Does that mean that you'ri be coming back?" "Not exacUy coming back; but they may send me here as a sort of agent to the Canadian government— for buying suppHes. New Yoric's the most central point for that, and they've asked me how I should like the job. I told them to move me about as if I was an inanimate object." A new flash came into his eye as he added quietly: "All I am and aU I have is at the country's disposal." The flash was answered like a signal by one 6om her. Bamb.idge knew how this sort of engagement in a great adventure would appeal to her. "Of course," she re- sponded, warmly. "It would be-but it's splendid, isn't It? It's like taking part in a great sport, which is more than a sport because it's vital. If this country went to war It might revive some of our old-time patriotism I should like to hear a Uttle of that now, after so many 193 THE LIFTED VEIL years of iKuiag am own people oandemaini - r- .- ~-_JK our own country. And ret," she reflected, "it comes back to the personal, doesn't it? Life is so amazing. It sends its soiTOvre-and its joys-inm quarters whence one so little looks for them. That's what impresses me. I keep won- dering whether we're mere flotsam and jetsam, that have nothing to do but toss in the current; or whether there's anything that wiH steady us and take us along a definite road with some amount of oonfidpnce." She glanced toward the fire, so as to include her other guest. "Mr. Bainbridge, do 3:ou know?" The question forced Bainbridge out of himself, though he was not ready to join in a conversation in which he had no heart. Moreover, he divined on Grant's part an impatience of his presence, while he considered it only fair to give his rival— if they were rivals-the one oppor- tumty that could come to him. "Do I know what'" he managed to ask, after a second in which he seemed to stare at her unintelligently. "Do you know how we, as individuals, can be prepared to meet the surprises of which life keeps such a vast variety in store for us?" Bainbridge took ut> the theme only because he was obliged to. "What do you mean by being prepared? If it's the elimination of fear — " "Well, perhaps it «," she agreed, promptly. "I never thought of It before; but if preparedness, as the word begins to go, means anything, it means that. The elimi- nation of fear! If we could only reach that state, person- ally and nationally! But we can't, can we?" Again Bainbridge answered only because he could see she spoke a Uttle feverishly, and he was eager to do his part in steering the conversation safely. " We can, if we 193 i . THE LIFTED VEIL go by the right road-which « what very few people wfll .hZ^* "l*** "^ *° elinunate fear? Why. sm^y if there .s such • road if. the one we should all Uketoike If we weren't afraid, it would be because we kn^ were safe; and if we were safe"-^e laughrf witTth! "Slightest^,, of excitement-"if we wJ^sSe itit w^dbe-.t would be bliss. Do teU «, how to fef the spoke. By way of getting out of the nxwi still on the whoUync«.i««onal note he continued, a. he went forwarf to take his leave: "Preparedness isn't a nwtterT^ planationsomuchasifsoneoflife. You om't prepl^ by fits and starts; neither can you prepare for one^ and neg^ert another. It's got to be a big business bmI tti^gh business and a long business; L whry^^e given yourself up to it—" ctergyman, who now stood beside the table "Then you can feel tolerably— secure " "But^^ure against-how much?" came from Qorinda. The reply was more to himself and his own inner ne^ than to his compamons, as Bainbndge said: "Aeainst C^h'elTH-'^" to dread." With delibilS b^use he was thinking of himsdf. he went on to enu^ «erate. Against-against hont«-against difficult situ- ahons-^gamst loss of nerve-^gainst not knowing the nght thing to do-and-and-" his voice d4p2 slightly-" against not being able to do it " ^^Jonnda clasped her hands. "Ah. but that would be •'Well, yes," Bainbndge agreed. "If the kingdom of 194 THE LIFTED VEIL ^^ «^'^,^y««. why then, ^^^^^^ „, T^>.- He held out hi. hand. 'TmE go " y°".^'l r^ now, you I rtist r^.'S.'i;,:,.?^""'"- >».« w js:: '•Not now. Some other time-if you should reaUy want ya^tyXtr''*'"'^''**'"*^^^'-- "Oh. why do "Because very few people do want to know it. We're "ally- Were subject to hysteria, and so we make f«7r efforts mere flashes in the pan. Real pre^^rt ^^ tmuousandba^ic: and the continuous Ld'^c^^X S i^ff'"".*..^*- ^"*- " ^-'^ ««- -, I Jfy He had forced his farewells and turned to make his w^to the door, when he heard Clorinda say, wi^cl^ it^ntiH "^T^^' ^°^ y°" 8° ^^y that w^Mr £2rS Ir^^^ engaged"^he hesitated an ^!!i ^"^ "'^«' ^ if to make herself inevocablv understood-"to bo married." urevocably risffJ^'^"''f •*^f "^^ •"= ^'^ Malcohn Grant nse ten h-s cha^ with a look which could only be de- scnbed as thunderous. It was diluted not » mu^ I9S (i* m ftp THE LIFTED VEIL toward Clarinda u to Bidabrid^« himidf. "Then I ittpp^^ I must ooDgntuUte yo« bot*-." T. .; smcerity of the words was contradicted by the eager which seeoied to shake the Canadian's huge petion —en anger before which Qorinda momentarily quailed, rising and seeming to shrink from the baronet's profifered hand. i,.Ji CHAPTER XIV ON hk way home Bainbridge dropped in at Gnmt'i hotel, and wrote: Dea« Sn Malcolm Gramt,— If jrou are at leieure thia eveni- ; may I ask you to look in on me at my bouse, as I have i WTif ti hin g ot importance to say? Youis sincerely, AXIHDS Baimbkidob. At half pest eight the Canadian arrived. That during the past two or three houn he had gone through some violent emotion Bainbridge could see from his dark- streaked pallor as well as from the hunched, weighted carriage of his shoulders. "I got your note," was his only form of greeting as he strode into the room and stood still. "I'm glad youVe come," Bainbridge said, quietly. "There are two or throe tilings I wanted to say." And yet they were seated for some minutes on either side of the smoldering fire, in the relative positions of two years earlier, before Bainbridge had mastered himself sufficiently to begin. "I want you to know," be forced himself to say tlien, "that anything that's new and— and astonishing to you in our present situation is just as new and astonishing to me." The expression Bainbrit^e called thunderous had not left the banker's face. It hung there like a great doud, ip7 THE LIFTED VEIL lowering and fuU of storm. "If you want me to know anything," Grant said at last, "you'll have to speak more plainly." " I don't want to speak more plainly than I can help—" "Hasn't the time for delicate niceties gone by?" Possibly; but not the time for sympathetic considera- tion- -for every one concerned." "Oh, sympathetic consideration! If it's only that—" "If it's only that we don't gain much; but we do get a point of view. The important thing seems to me that, in our present curious and difficult conjuncture, all three of us— you, Clorinda, and myself— should take the right attitude from the start." The visitor towered in his ann* °f her as. It's «wugh to know that when you got away you saw you felt that, you never came back to teU her so " By George! she showed me to the door!" he blurted rpoSL^^"^'"^^- "^^-^^^^^ ;;So that if you hurt her pride she rounded on youi„." the Mow with a voice like a bass drum-she^ ^i^ -ar^. bnng Sir Mal<»hn Grant his hat and'i'^Sht ^■r^^t'^^'-'' I'd have come back if "And yet you've come back now?" *^7^^TL^ "^^'"^ '^^'^ '' ^5^ '°°8er. I've tried- mont^h T ^ "f *^^- ^' ^ ^^ « the fct months than it was Uter. When war began-weU that ^-tofh^^'^^fr'"*' ^"Sdow^foh^d ^tJ^ A T "^ ** "^ staadatd-«ot the ac- fl^ voice- as far as I've got a real standard it's-it's somehow connected with— with her " Bainbridge mused for a while in silence. When he spoke .t was quieay and without raising his eyes -my do you say that to m«?— mw.?" ^ abS t'S^h'^ P«»°Pt and naive, like so much else about this big, elemental man. "Because you're in wrong, old boy You won't make a go of it^ a go of ,t, he said, after a brief space of thinking "is 203 THE LIFTED VEIL s^daiy. K one does what's right &c the minute the •naking a go of it will take care ofitsdt" TJe thunder of the voice recaUed to BaJnhnM™. *i,. «rmle just used of the rush JTZZ ^^^-^ you call this ngAtf" »uuu«, m pam. And ''It may not seem right to you—" "You can bet your Hfe it doesn't " •'If that's because you think I didn't play fai,^- I don t go as far as that. I can't help saying that it ^on - Bambndge nodded-"that after aU you s^d TZ ^ ^\ "^^ ^"^'^ ^3-didn't ^y. mi,^^ Ishould come b^ here and find you-fi^ ^in^. session, so to speak. It looks as if you'd tak^ r^J^ and worked it against me." « y«>lyiae "Mv '".^^f right." he declared, moSr whence co^idered he had thought the matter J "i can'" Zr ^ "^^^.^^ ^*^^ •^y y^ conviction." Omnt surveyed the can^, the hearth-rug. and his TtL fl^ t^« P°«>f°°." he said at last, still looking ^ it X^ ' my wif^on't you see?-^e coull ^ It off-^t a pmch; as yours-I don't see how she "You mean as the wife of a layman—" b."J^i *• °^ 7''°u"^^ ^ *°°*^ c»untry-^d belongs T =7 M fl"^^* *^* ^* '^•^'t ^ ^ a clei^yman tha^ I should be manying her-not any mo^ th J^woSd dothe^sameasabanker. In both cases wc sho^d s^y they re different m breed and in qualities. A woman who has a cW between a banker and a clergyman h^a choice between men; but she also has a ch^HeS^ 207 'i THE LIFTED VEIL twoldndgoflife-^what? She might take to tne one as a filly to the pasture, and find that she didn't have the lungs or the speed for the other." Bainbridge was not offended by the nature of this comparison, but he was disturbed l^ a hint of truth in it. Rising abruptly, he began to p&oe the room with a land of agitation to which he didn't generally yield. He had never forgotten that Clorinda herself had said: "That I should be the wife of a clergyman is inconceivable." Somehow it was inconceivable. It had alwa}^ been in- conceivable. Now that Sir Malcolm Grant was there, he, Bainbridge, understood how the man oouM put forth his savage claim that Qorinda and he were made for each other. They were— in a sense. They had similar tra- ditions and a similar knowledge of the world. In both there was a minimtun of soul, even if a soul was in process of emerging, while each suggested the fine animal, the thoroughbred, the creature noble of body and gentle of temper, and winsome and high-spirited and strong. Could the one go tamely off about his business? and could the other be broken to the yoke of the parish round, with its petty, if benevolent, interests, its teacup quarrels, and its old wives' tales . . . ? He was still pondering these questions when Grant strode across from his place on the hearth-rug and laid a hand on his shoulder. He could do it, partly because he was so big, partly becaxise, when all was said and done, he was the elder. "Look here, Bainbridge," he began, in a kindly tone, "you're a good fellow— by God! you are good!—" Bainbridge threw back his head and looked up. "I dare say it seems so to you," he said, earnestly, "but— but I know to the contrary." ao8 THE LIFTED VEIL "Thm«nicaa«ayisthatyouputup«giw(tMuff I •dnut the truth of most of the things you say. lU eo further and confess that I never heard a man reel off so much truth to the square -ard " "You forget," Bainbridge smiled, faintly, "that the tows of conduct are my business just as the methods of finana are youis. I hope that the world needs both of us and that I can serve my turn." "You bet you serve your turn— but I don't believe that your turn is in the direction in which you're lookine for It now. I~I doH't." " But if I do—" "Then you're wrong." Grant now laid a hand on each of the shoulders of the other man, holding him at arm'^length. "A woman who's had the experience shes had might be my wife-she could fit herself into the position— and — and so could I — now— but she couldn't be yours." He added, as with a Uttle shove he withdrew his hands, "There you have it from me straight." Bainbridge stepped back, looking at his rival with the clear, deep gaze of eyes with an unusual capacity for candor and intensity. "And what you have straight from me IS that love can work miracles. A man's love," he went on, "can do anything for a woman—" "So you've told me once already; but you added, 'if it's of the nght sort.' " "And mine is." "Mine wasn't." Grant declared, firmly. "I confess to that. Butitisnow.byGeorgel-andifitisn'trUmake It so." ^^ "Then it seems to me n can only leave it to her." " Will you leave it to her?" 309 k H THE LIFTED VEIL "111-111 leave it to more than to her. Ill Wve it- ^ U to the g«.t priadpla o< right. wJS nTvit *?j^'^I««ve«nyonear«aythiagetae." And on the word they damped handfc CHAPTER XV JT Tws the first time Bainbridge had ever ««, n^ 1 nnda s anger flame out agaiasrhi.*^ "" ^ above aU orhers Tt il ""°"^/ ^•>°«'d have chosen I r hed to S; tSlTJTon^ei:^!; "- ^- '^'•' •^ ^ a Pnxessiontf "SrSr^n*.^'^ "'^'^ ground, the snow danced JTfl ^ ^ *"■ °° *he ened. eddying intot^,^t oZ^^^J^' ^ into the crevifw nf ^, j . ^"^'> pelting itself lashing thf^of thTr '^'^ '""'*°'" ^"^ 'l°°"^ays. lights fhaT^i'^ ■ P^^-by. W«rtng the arc! 4t staS. ^^^HoSr hir r s^ -- ^■ ^l«g off into infinity. Now a^dXr, "^^ ^^'"' "^ b-gham ttSr thl Se ^^^.^.'T'r ^ b-ness nian battled his way hameir^riiten' ;;i THE LIFTED VEIL a girl, lithe and buoyant, made herself the spirit of the wind; but mostly the great street was empty of every- thing but the sweep and onrush of the tempest. In its force and grandeur and terror and exhilaration Bainbridge found it akin to something within himself. Clorinda had renewed her promise to marry him. She had renewed it with deliberation and a kind of splendor. "You know already that I mean to do what you've asked me — and be your wife." It was characteristic of her that she should have made this declaration stan What do you mean?" Her agitation struggled with her efforts to be self-con- faoUed and cahn. "I mean that if there are more kinds than one, this is the kind I can feel for you." "And you could feel another for some one else'" he asked suspiciously. "Do you want me to understand that.' "No; but— but ifs a question you shouldn't ask me When I teU you that I do love you-^ncerely and honestly -enough to maity you -you ought to be content." "But— but the kind you can feel for me? What kind M that?" ^^ ShQ looked down at the paper-weight with which her ai4 THE LIFTED VEIL fingOT toyed. "I suppose-r suppose the t,n-i fed for a-for a cleigym^ '^'^ ^''^ '^^ °°« <^^n He flushed to a deeper shade of red "But I'm . . d^M-^n this relation. r„. o^ a r^''' " "°* ^ She continued to finger the paper-weiehT "v™ - clergyman before you're ^ytZT^t\r,. « "" ^ hadn't been a dei^yman-" ^ <» me. If you "WeU? What then'" th;^°ab^r~u.'*?°"'' "^^ ' ""^ ^^ -«i any- rinn! ^"^ ^^'^ '"*° *^ -^^^^ °f his ann-chair "cin nncj you're amazing! How cam follow yti^- '"°- Perhaps you can't," she returned, gently "but T dont see why you should try -when tie itt^-", concerns me." -""«=u tne matter only "Only concerns you?" ^^'whff^n?rth:s.rtr-es--sr^j obhquely toward him, with a cert^fd^denS^^ " I ^^ for you. becaus^because you're the b^t m^" t- ^ known. It's precisely blj !^ "^^ ^^^^ ^^^ .that I do care V™,',™ i^T^ , *"® ''*^ °»an that-that :^ Jrti^eTtS"*? *° "^■" But you wouldn't have^ L Jt™.' .^°^ f=««ber? you are professionally ^J't^Z^ ^ '''"* a doctor, or a-" ^^ can t miagme a lawyer, or ''Or a banker," he suggested, cmeUy .bout them. iS;:urj:hS^;rwt'^e::^rs shocked or oflfendli--l'm L" T.-^'^l^^T??""'. ^ in saying quite the right TH£ LIFTED VEIL ?hnl7'^' ^'r *^f^** °* y*~ « "i"!* as one thinks of Chnst when they brought to him the woman-'-^ He cned out imploringly, "Don't, dorindal" Then I won't. And yet why should I not? NoK^ else would ever have met me as yTS-^^LSSj £:c:.".-r^d-~.-9 ^9^tmTr-r^:--rS t^nngs me to-to the e^lanation iCLL I hav^o He »^ so busy with the question as to whether or n«^ rtwas h^ duty to teU her that he hadn't ^ti^"° ^ th^h her in the way that gave her h^^hat he could only murmur, half absenUy. "Make h '" She contmued in some ODnfusion: "It's just this- Aatyou must give me time. You must let meletSed to you m— m a new Ueht. When"_tk. »™ il ^ ^^ ^e:rjr.1"*^ ^ ^^^ avSeTTfr! eoS'Sl4°'^f''"°°^'*«^'»'*irt- "But good God. Uonnda, I'm as much a man as-as"-th« name for«d its way out-"as Malcolm G,^^ *" Ha- first act was to detach her skirt from his oI«t^j, St^' -th gentle. unhasteni^eh^ti^^'S the expression of displeasure in her eyes she w^abfe o ^toward him. though she had be^ kSTh^t^ turned away "Why do you mention h^^p^^. Because he's come back." i«aauyr 3l6 THE LIFTED VEIL "Th«, you've beeii taUdng me over " .,Jfow could we help itT;^en-r -- I C^^^ *? ^^ *he fet place, v.. ,, '^^^esf^-^^^ ^swered in the sS of iTin'^^'^r^^^'^ <«ly W many blends. "It seem^^ ^ ^*^"8 made up of W said that you-d^*^^.!*^«« that you sh^d ticula/^* *?LSf "^ """^^^ =^^ « that par- "But since'l did ^^^J S^T -P«««i her to Z, for having had a iW" * ^"^ °>« the credit ^ ^^'^hrt-iinoriS" '^^^-^''^ ■^-^^ whipped him on. "OhI rZ„ f ^^ ''thers. that love with you-" ^ ^ ^*^««J that he was stiU in ~- r^t- S^';;-^ ^- «» «» And that," he itzxiseledZ^' ■ '^ not without hop«-f" °"' '^°^K the stab, "ho ai7 THE LIFTED VEIL He could see that lier displeasure was heightening into anger. "And did he send you to plead for him?" " No." he declared, with spirit. " If I'm pleading at aU it's for yourself, Clorinda— that you won't marry me— that you won't marry any one— till you can marry him as a man. And, furthermore, if there is any one whom you could marry as a man— marry him." Impulsively she went toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders in such a way that he was held down in his chair. Nothing had ever thrilled him in his life Uke the struggle between indignation and tenderness in her face and eyes as she bent above him. "You must let me do what I can," she insisted. "Don't try to force me, or to turn me into something I'm not. It's possible that some day I may see you as you want me to see you; but for the present you're to me just what I've said-^io less and no more. You're more to me than a man— you're a saint— or an angel— or a priest— or any other high mes- senger you choose to name. Merely as a man— " With- drawing her hands with an abrupt Uttle gesture which told him that merely as a man he would not have appealed to her, she went to the window, where, with her back to him, she stood looking out on the storm. He was wonder- ing how he could demolish the halo with which she sur- rounded him, when she began again : " Since you're curious about Malcolm Grant— if curious is the word— I'll ex- plain to you. I told you then for the express reason that I wanted him to know. It wasn't the minute I should have chosen above all others ; but before you left me alone with him I wished to make the situation clear." Half contrite, he followed her to the window. It was something to be near her, even if she refused to let him touch her and shrank from his caress. "But my point," 3i8 he THE LIFTED VEIL endeavored to sav as h«> *y« i„i j ^as not that vn,ftwA*' *°°* ^^^^ <>«* on the "was not that you sh«Ud I^veto^dmftr ? *^* ^°^' should have told me. and'^^dS^'Va tin.f ^*^°" <=««>mstances might have madeT;2 L ^^ ""'' Wait?" she exclaimerl ^^ , "^ 5^°" *° '^t-" have waited fe? S^S';™'^"^^- "^^t should I towardmelnter^;',;^,??-- He used language "Tr; ^ *u' ^"^^ °^ ^ Sreat shock; but-" -broken. If a Ctov« Si'"^''^'*^«'^« never forget it, e^if heT.^""/ *=°'^^<' y<« ^ ship is goLg di^ Uyl\J°^'^. °"'>' ^"^ W3 tion-as yo^ harbe^"^^ ^ "" *^« ^« situa- h^iated^ebyL'rci.^rs;;^'?,r;'"' '^^° when she's down is the mnc* u f. ^^ beat a woman stincts. To t2 her bv t^l 'T^ °' *"« human in- again, as you've doZ-'^ **"" "^ ^<^ '^ her up ^el^CloSfK ->Lr^-- toward her. "Is it.? Wasn't th^ T ^"^f^^mg different." Q 11,. wasn t tnere a woman in thp r;m.> u were forgiven because she l3 ZTt, T'^'^ ^ the convei^ of thatlL W ^T'*"^'^ '^"^^n't have loved muchbl3vf -^ *™^' *hat she would ^ "Ves; buTtferetr^^^L'dre'lSs'^r^" feel toward God. and the love we i^ t^ ** '°^^ ^^ dMer^t; we mustn't coS^J^^'ST"--'^"^''* irit — " THE LIFTED VEIL f J^u/ r*T^ *« spirit whUe Malcolm Giant is Owu^da. I'm a «m. with a man's pMdons and^: She threw her hands apart with a fatalistic gesture. J:' ir *" */""** °^ *^*- ^ thought-I thought I ^^e^r"*?:^'*; Ky«''veonlydn.ggedm:out of the fire to pun me back into it again—" "WeU, what then?" tn 'Zl!S/ "^^''*- "* '^~" ^«* ^« J^Pt that thought to herself, swerving oflE to another. 'Aren't your old Chun* leg^terpart to the struggle of pHS'h^i'LTo:"^^ :r :^^st ^^ «.. Vehicles were few h,,* ^Z.^ venturesome as he. of them d<^tlti^'5^'?^!7«'y -«y. «os^ ""stling with the «^^^^ tt . ^^ ^""^ to his own in •VonedstLts an* J^ht?he k"^:^*^ ^^^ *« ««- with a shrap^r^^* InH "J"*^ P^**^ «>e face in the debased Engh^^f ttv "^^ "^^ ^'^ 8lee jaded and broken?tfer^Id fSnT^^""'"-"^"' '»««' on their shoulders S^d t ^^^ ^* "^"^ his huge bulk to tl^e o^t^f t^e^ " '^'"*°^ °PP°«d of Fifth Avenue the S of fl^^?*^*"' °° '^«' ^^^ tme, and books rf^STnifJ T' P"*^' "''' f™^' jewels behind ^vS "^^ **«^««* the drifts like ObecurelyBaiabridgefo,mdhimselfcomfarted. Bodily THE LIFTED VEIL every point of the CpT STd^^T! "I!"^ '"™ above him, and m (mm^^ •, "T" ^™" *•'" «»f» his i'^t^^^^^^r-'"^'^^^^^^ beneath seemed to^ to no »St ^ ' °^'^°" ^"^ '' ove. into alllSet.rS't ^' ^^^ T^' ^^ were allowal to tvvv-„« "«! sea, tfte rapids of Niagara fires aTthTi^'T^ ZI^JT ^ "^^ ^--^ *he o^y «o r«md aTd ^^^ ytTi'^^.t'- "-^'^ and no overflow On» ♦». u7 ' '"*'' "° 'ssue thought; C onlyt^S^f^,^ ^^^ ^I,-°'h« -other hope and sfranSf lotJ m^S itXtT^'^ Picion ahnost as soon as he knew it 3^ i *^ picion into jealousy ^d IST^ ^ '°^^' ^"^ «^s- speots the most desperate, d^^tir^*' ^"^ « «-« r^ have reiect^ttt ^SeJ" N '^ ''^ """^ cent-defiled! These we^^. . Noble-magnifi. her; but they S^'^L 1?^ ' *^ "^^^^^ ^ each other to bTS of^.' 1 ^ T^ *°° ''"^"^ ^ which could he «t^? cI^M^^ ?f^^- ^d yet Could he not W^L "^^ "^ *«n be retracted? find them'^^^uS^^ ^^TZT^^^T: T ^"'^ her slave or her saviomTwoJut;, t*° t u^ ^""^ °' tioa? Or should he^Snse?Sli^T^'^'^"»P- list of lovers whiVwiT^ v'^'' only one more on a him to'S I^^LloT^"" °' "^ ^^"^ ^^^ The stonn did not answer these questions; but it sul> 324 Ui THE LIFTED VEIL dued, and in a neasuie sonth-j »u he put th«n to iTS^*^*^ "« «««»«» wHh vrhich ninS'^'Lt.^ri"^''*^'" ''°^ '•" Sixty, notice that he Z i^T^^'^ ^ ^"aie was quick to shouldn't haS ^'Sf «°r^«ast of shcnddnothavet^ldSy^rkeS.T''^"''^''^ held him. beyond the ^M^Th ^^ '"'^ ''hat with- Clorinda henilf to ^^^^^ ™ ""** '* "^^^^ '^ f<* ar as saying, "I'm en-'^enthf r'^'^^^^- Leshe walked in. ^^^ ^°°' opened and In the constraint which foUowM tt,=„ ofnaive'^. That Magrie £f k1 T.^" ^ ^«°«"t took as a matter of ^"""^t S^ff'^ ^^^«^ ^ysogavehima,^ J^*f* ^« *ould be P««>n8 mto pettishness rec»nS,^\ !^^^S«- was 11 THE LIFTED VEIL Oh, then 1 U leave you together. LesUe doesn't care to W n» around when he's playing. Do you. Leslie?" * ^y- y*- «f yott want to listen." LesUe replied, indif- S^tto S^*""" -ute I begin to play Z ^y "Oh, th« I sha'n't this evening, for I shall not be here. Youll excuse me. Arthur, won't you? I'm sorry not to stay; but since LesUe doesn't want me I shX^ |md see ttie cW^ put to bed. Be sure to let me know If ymx'dhke Tufts to take you home. Tie sto«n ^ to be blowmg itself out." -"^uo K ^11^ i° *" "^^^ °^ ^^"^'^ P»votte ananged by Brahms when he snatched his hands fiom the pis^ to^y. abruptly. "Arthur, take my advice and™ Before thwe was time for a response he was off on the n«tentrancmg phrase, so that his guest had the oppor- tumty to turn the mterruption over in his mind. Intte large white^d-gold room only the electrics nearest the ^were turned on. Bainbridge was seated where he gener^placed hmiself when Leslie played, in a low ann- ^ from whid. he fa«d the perfomusr^^y in p^ and could watch his hands. »"""*«. "I might take another man's advice-" he boma when his friend had finished his selection. ™°"®»a'«»° . "And do it. Not if he spoke as sincerely as I'm speak- mg now-*t least not in the case of nine men who m«nr "^ Undoubtedly there's a tenth man who-^ ^^ Who finds m marriage ^rfiat he's looking for " If he smrt looking for very much. But you would be. You re an ideahrt by profession; and the man who takes aa6 THE LIFTED VEIL ^Jfcal into n«rri4_^. I «« ^y „y 0^ j^^p "And veiy likely God does " lesl' w<^ ^ *"* "'^ °°*- Man doesn-t-^d stin Bainbridge Ix^an to perceive that his ftiend was e„ deavonng to "get something over" to ^ Zi^J Vnthout having the exact channel throuJ^wTS m^mngco^d be conveyed. The resdt ,^ <:'SliS pMt a certain exaggeration and brutality and oiT^fn bridge's nothing but perplexity. ^' ^'^" lat^S"^ depends on what a n«n marries Jor," the latter mused, after a minute's reflection. Palhsers pretense at the downright exposure of h« S "^I Z^^ "r ''"" '"^ ^« -PeSTn-^'cha ^t Imamedformoney." The assertion was foUo^ by a senes of any scales up and down the ke^S l«>^e d^,^ ^^^' ^*'- Y°" °«^«i as most ^t^ei'^^gi^..^ for marriage had <«me- PaUiser again siutched his hands from the keys to ^d th« was Maggie" Bainbridge insisted, si^g aowly, who was m love with you— and vou hanaT^ ''T*^. Wndly chap. expect a distaS S'he 1^^^^^ "J "^^t. It now swinging idly on the W^?i? f"^ ''^° w« S'^"— -^t^t^rCy^ P^whr hTfe^ritShS^ ^^ *^ °^ «»« speaking he took ouri d!t!l*^.1Pr* "*• before ^^■t light. Again bSS^^^I^^-^ ^* that he wished to amvev ^JT^^ *^ anpression His manner betiay^^ «SS^ v^°"* "^^^ »*• toseem cool. ««tenient chiefly by its effort "I've nothing but this up mv sle««. „ij i. .. dared at last: "that if you W,!^ ' ^ ^^' ^^ ^e- nice girl I've «femrf tofToTZv "^ one but-but the -cWcaait-.t'^°^^^-:i--^ Bain-oridgegathe^dan^h. inner «««^^,,^. THE LIFTED VEIL " Are your— are you tfaiiikiag of— of any one in particulap-- lAiea you say that?" Deliberately PaUiser took oat his match-box and struck a light. The cigarette was between his lips as he said, in- distinctly, and yet in a way to be quite articulate: "I'm thinking of wbaX I've said. You could make a marriage that wouldn't be a shock to us. Any other marriage would — would turn you into nothing but a man." This second echo of Qorinda's thought was like the idiip-lash of exasperatipn. "But, good Ood, Lesliel" he cried out, "I am nothing but a man!" Palliser smiled. "Oh no, Arthur. You're a good deal more than a man, as men are known to ns. To a lot of us you've beeti — the guide gcnng on before the dimber. You've meant so much to us in that capacity that we want to keep you there. It makes us the more sure that we ourselves shall go upward." "And admitting for the moment that that's so, do you mean to tell me that just because I marry — ?" "Yes; to some extent, just because you marry. Rightly or wrongly, we've lifted you toward the sphere where they neither many nor are given in marri^ie, but — I think I've got the words of the Bible — but are as the angels of God. You're one of the men-^here have been a good many of them in the world at oae time or another — who come to us as interpreters of a life purer than our own. The minute you marry you come down into our life; and whoi you do you can't help us any vaote. It seems to me, Arthur, that you've reached a point where you must choose between bong the guide or the climber — " "But, my dear fellow, hasn't this question been fought out long ago? and hasn't the whcde potion of Christen- 33a THE LIFTED VEIL hapD" dispensation. Do rit dS^ l^ ■\^'^^ * «d sofa he had last ocn,™vJ?^' u ^* P^*«^ *« *»» Palliser. "ra tSj SS^Sr^'^ft ^S'l"*' '*^' when Josephetta brin^el^" ^^ convenient 'No tea for me." he lx«ed. hurriedly. No? Then well just talk. I ZTr^^ i with my deiKyman T^ ^ «>IA>« of othOT like that IiZ^v." ■• • ^" "'"'y tnem. You're either like tL* JT^ . ^ **° t force Jwaysthinlc. AnTwhtl^^Kri^^*' ^ My present maid is quite ^T^^ ,^'^ Josephetta is her namf i Z£^^ "^ '"'^■ twi^, now could I? Uyi^ZtJlZ^,'^^ having nothing but her^^T ' iT r! 7°^ moreoftheworldlshouldn^hl? ,,' ' • • ^ Id known Mberty; but I hadJTa tti-S" T^^^^^^'^'^'^b thought-nottheXrt^S^T^,*^" '**^ of « But now that it's aSl^L^T°'» thought .... '^^J.bands ati^So^^^^^ -i.fansy in such- -^wSriiS^y^f^ ^ not accomplished «>aUy could take ^^^t^^.!LTf timef-but she done for Pansy m^ ^* ^t^ ^"^ '^bat had been ... . ^^' nuae, now oouldn t s)i»? t* i. j . -"«-" POMtave inspimtion. her s««tJn If^ ^ had been a BainbridgeS^iJj;^'^ "^.the nmtter to Mr. hethinkMr..ciSefa^tTr^*^°°- °^*>'* •luaint for anything^ Sl^^ ««1 wasn't Edith too Holbein or L;^^^%*^bng child painted by t° be coming ina^TT" ^* P^ "^'e «ally seemed nowadays ^p^J'^jf'^ f"" ^ ^ew^ they were, as J^^Z^ ^^ *« ^"^Y the plainer a distinction. soSgl£ ^TT "".^"^ ''"^*« s woK^ every one couldn't afford THE LIFTED VEIL P«'ved to be. wWch made to Z ™1^ f^ ***«**«> ^Wy thought TT.eZL^^'rr,^^'^""''^ "*« was softened and ^,Z5 ^ u^*^ ^°*- But ««t Pansy', downfrSgt?SS":J:^1''?°'-«'but she. Mi«, Higgi^. could ^p«l^. ^^- ^ ""^ «»«. l»««ht her into the company of W ^ * °»f ? . ■ *f?»8"^ed visitor. Bainbridge had no^XZ^t^^T""'^'^' 'or his opportunity Wh^tlTu 1?''^ ^" ""*' '«'*<* Wand inJo^^S- ot^ ^ h«n chiefly was the •nces did so m^ m£l^^ ^^ "^"^ '''^■ and to direct fates ^"by^^T "' ""^""^ her oracles were writtenlL; i!!^ ^^"^ «> ''hich Jaad, to be^J*^^ '^^"^ throughout the than any P^ZZt^^ tT ^"^ *«««« «>te«hange of dipCtir^""lr^ »ore than an "nfluence she rous«loQ^!?!^- ff * ""y^^^V and an ««ted the yo^d^S^ ^ "^"^ ^^- She the respectable. L^S^f ** "^f^ ^d locked away from her Mr. Searie, aS^^!^/^/'^** Maggie Palliser to a sense rrf ^ ^^f^ed Leshe and had P«.bably so,S her^1.^,r"*f "^*^«' *« the federated States; an^ Kh '^^ ^''""^h all goddess, no panth«4sTh^dS^^t\ ' °° ''^^"« t«ve. h««.e. lad, dre^ ^ ^^ ^^ --. tal^ THE LIFTED VEIL •«^. .ad ey«lito.p«ro* empty chin, plate.. Th«e ^t^S^'^f.f!^ S^"*-"*" •*«* J«r. and not much thatWMrinkter. That little wi. in her manner, whkh WM too Ingratiating for dncerity, and in the changeleH •mUeof her long. thin. ««ewhat p«)gaathic mouS^ Do you recognize this?" He never «juite knew how he amie to whip fiom hi. podcet a copy of the journal to which he believed hi. hort«s to be a contributor, and to lay a certain pa«- paph under her eye.. Hi. mind resumed if worl^ Zt^T^^'T^'^^^^'^^'^^- M he noticed ,anythmg further it wa. a sUght tendency on her nde to ^^<. lf^:.\"" fllmtration of that, her hands «ft«dto touch the object he held out toward her, while • V^^ ^ mtmiacy with its contents by not glanc mg^ the hnes to which his finger pointed. Shecon^ hersdfwith smihngfi«dly. saying, with a Idnd of wooden, lebearsed nirprue: -"^wi, "Why, nor He continued to hold the paper towarf her. Ms fintrer tappmg the hne he wished her to read. "Have you looked at it?" ' H« pale q^ grew frightened, though the snile main- temeditsngidity. "Why Aould I look at it? What has it to do with me?" "That's what I thought you m^ght tell me " mean. ReaUy. Mr. Bainhridge. considering that you're my dergymaa— " ^ '^^ "Please look at it and tdl me whether or not vou'v* ever seen it before." ' She leaned forward with an expression in which distresa 936 THE LIFTED VEIL mlagled with tlw «nu«d, gingeriy oonoeMioa the ndght h«veii«de to. child. "I never have." riMdectared. Without taking time to ^kiioe at a line. "Look again." She looked again in the Mme maaaer. Her n»pon«e was a sQent shake of the head. "«Pon«e tJZf^ '^'"u^ conraanded, gently. "You can see it better if >-ou have it in your own hands " She took it delicately, as though it was K»nething not quite clean, holding it between thumb and second fciger 1 1 L"^'^ f ■'^ '*™«" "^ *•»* '<"« right, 80^ what transversely. Her smile was that of a pers^ lending herself to a puzzle or a parlor trick. "Now what do I do?" she asked, with an air of patient bewildetment. Agwn he pointed to the place. "Will you be good enough to read that?" ^^ Pot a halfHMscond she seemed to read. "How shock- ing! die commented then. " Such nice people, too One never knows, does one?" She lifted her Wg, pale, frisht- ened ey«, with a look of bravado. "But what can / do atxntt It? "If you'll tell me what you've done about it already 1 a explain to you what you can do next." "I? DOTie about it?" She turned the paper over help- lesdy. "What can I have done about itr "Written it." "Written it? Me? Why, reaUy, Mr. Bainbridge!" Hmnedly she appeared 4o scan the lines, seaniing tor traces of her own craftsmanship. "Why^-whvl never — " ' ■" "Never saw that before?" ^e tried to be mdignant, but succeeded only in being 839 Tin THE LIFTED VEIL xt you say I ve oommitted it at all-" ^ 1 want you to 8a}r that " beti.yedmy«eait*S^p!^.^- "Say I've the puUic— ?" ^^etyf-and held them up before ^'£^ ^t!-"^ "" "^"^ «>« P««^ that other." ''^' •* ^ «* «J««« them in the eyes of «^ mean, Mr. Bainbridge?" ^^ °"'*'^ Whatever do you '»«*«' to^tS^f""""^**- "'tre- Butdidit^*oSitTou^^- ^*««P««- into the mind of a^to^^T,, .! "^ ^""^ ««^««» band toW^ tS-?^ "^ *"«»*«*•"><» «rf a hus- tJ-y'^^ ^^^^SS"^^ ^^^ -« -««h When "Do nB^ifT^ . ^°y years as they have-" - anothrevTS ^^Z^JZZI^T ^ the dos«t onmniunion? Hasn't «!* !!J ? '''^ "" 'cmdof^^^^^^^c.us.ri.btto. OU, but when it's only « little bit of fuar' a40 THE LIFTED VEIL yo^^diSt?""''"'' ^<^-^^^st^y. "Then •"^Mwies. I never said that." *"««««««; '•Why— why. fun for-^or any one." We af^'t::: ^^ W^people who. I think, onler t^^L^J^^ J-^-^er. suffer acutely, in <»e W^erinT-^ ^^' *^*-^t "^J "Did you caie?" She strove to right heiself arain "vt^ ,^ ■, ^ that. the. Win sir^oirf^ir^n; s bytS^" '^'*'^-»»«*«^? What do you mean tl** -cftly spS^f^/ J'..'^'** P«« ^-Phasized b^S^'^^e'lr^*^'*'" Stedaspedherhandsonher w^st-TTie words came out like a plea lie ^?- T^^^^ •^* •* •"«''* «««»« my duty " The atch m her breath amounted to a sob "Y^, «iuty to hunt down a poor, friendless woci^ho-?^"" »4i THE LIFTED VEIL "YcM'd only be a poor, friendless woman when you'd put yourself outside the range of friendship. I don't con- «der you've done so as yet. As I've already said, people have been kind to you. The last time I was in this room rt was crowded with the most important people in New York social life who had no other motive in coming than to let you see they cared for you. I've Uttle hesitation in saymgihat if yon were in trouble or need I could go out among the families of St. Maiy Magdalen's and in two hours raise a sum that would take care of you for life." The tears were flowing freely as she said, "That wouldn't be on my account; it would be on yours." "Let us say that it would be on account of both of us The fact remains that you've been holding up to ridicule or cashgation those who've been well disposed toward you, who've welcomed you to their houses when you had nothing to offer them in exchange—" Genuine an^ made the pallid personality flame into hfe. She grasped the aims of her chair, her long-waisted figure stifiening and straining forward, the voice growing shnUandmqwrative. "What do you know? Who's been telling you about me?" "No one's been telling me about you. Miss Higgins. What I know I know merdy through the perf omumce of my duty. What's more than that. I come here not as an •ccMser, but as your friend. If you'd trust me— " "TVust you, when you threaten to have me turned out of every house in New York? Why, man. it's— it's"— the dedantion came out because she couldn't keep it Uck— " it's aU I've got to live . If.jurt "But the«'.^ i£ !LT* ^ *^-" P««ntca«y_' *^*^'***««^ta»k; and in the her temper-" -'«=™seives. With his looks and "aai it TOs only guesswork." getlS:^"^ "^ • ^- Y-Puttwoandt^t^ caned her-" ^^ awk-eyed lady, I think you "No, that was a little more." Mow fi,.* u He divmed, ii^deed. on her uflrc M^iTr^-^^ *° «i" <»»• concealments ^Un^Zi^i^ '*'*' « Se**"* rid of aU human S^^^eSd't"*"^,'^* '^^ to «lark. "Tt^lL^^^!Sr^**'f'''«lking along in the "I'd seen S^i^t^ ^ ^f^^" •^t.^P^^t^dTLgeriy. things go he«TNt^ 1^^^-^^^ - — ti i^-_ */*°"Mhtgiveher.name— ■11' seemed to him that Kb .._ f J^ tunity. "Exactir t£w^I^.^'*''W)aN P-tly fcr .VOU.4. iTwW P^*- You see it you shouki try to do all rLl L1 ?^ *^*^' to some extent at leJTo^^' ^ >* »- you shield, ^_ •oc«stome^t^'2;,!V^7^ Who's on t^e staj hesitation in deliverii^j^^' ^ y*** '«'^« ««» "44 THE LIFTED VEIL «°ne in for^C^t^-.^^ Pf»r has never in ffle; b«t that couldn't ha^^^"^ "^^ '* ^'* seen of New York ThereW.^^,.^' '"* "° ' '^ J^>«. You know 80 muTrf whir* ''''^^'*°^'^'**«« best. It^O^:^:^^^^'-^^-^ The first was ak^dTJ^!^^ '^ *° *^ »«»«*• this creatT^d^feSr^^,*" ^« <» nature of the m^^^\J^ T^.'^ °^ «»« -ui dogged his ^Si l^^^ ^, ^^his eyes helpless feeling ^ 1? t "^^^ ^<^ by on both oStTi' was commg home from dining with the W«ans. ^ ' fl^ W. because it's a mere step from hetts-and that's how rt happened." She paused, not only for breath^ to dash away a tear or two, and also to enjoy thelffert she was producing. "The &.t time-wff I h«S^ ttoughtanytiu^ofit. I knew they we™ all g^^t S tog^er, and that Maggie and Clorinda weH iS^S ^^. and so ... It just occmred to me that tf to d^r*l*? '°°'' ''^ ' scandal-but itW ta me to do that-and I sunply let it pas»-keeping ii only fa ^ ba^ of my rmnd in case . . . But ^s^S^ that was a month or two later-and it must have been qmte^ midnight-weU, I must say I ^h^r^u^ «ie ?he-sT *,!ff^ "°^*^' °°* ^"^ Clorfada's s^. Shes always been too heavenly to m«^^d it's noanngto me what people are in their private life I'm v«Trhb«al hke that; it's in me to be so. And if I ha^.^ proved It for myself, as you might say-" ""^'■^* ..followed her sufficiently to be able to r^t. of "^',T^'~^ * '^^■" ^^ H^Kins's enjoyment of her ta^ became more manifest as it went on. ^y one who knows me knows I never pry into what doesn't S46 THE LIFTED VEIL «»c«n me; and if it hadn't been that I wanted to be in a poaticn to defend Qwinda, if ever her name came up I shouldn't have done it" "What did you do?" She grew confidential. "Wefl, there's no reason ythv I shoiildn't teU you. Mr. Bainbridge. You're a deigynm, and you have your own way of finding out things, just as much as I have. If you didn't have you wouldn't have found out about me, though how you did .. . But I've nothing to conceal, as I think you must see. . . . Why I went straight to the nearest druggist's and rang up Maggie's house in Sixty-ninth Street, before he could get ttere. I said I was a stenographer at the rooms of the Nabonal Economic Society, working late-and couM ttey tell me if Mr. PaUiser was in, or if not where he could be found, as it was about a series of lectures. It was a man who answered, a footman I suppoee, and he said if I d hold the line he'd consult Mrs. Palliser. When he came back he said that Mr. Palliser was spending the evemng at the New Netherlands Qub-and so I put two and two together. I shouldn't have done it," she con- tmued, rapidly, terrified by her visitor's expression "if it hadn't been for Qorinda's sake. I was so anxious to defend her." It was still Bainbridge's expression that sent her lushing on. "Oh, it's awful. New York is 1 We're an corrupt. I don't know what's to became of us. It's hke the last days of the Roman Empire. Such luxury and raitaavagance and Ucense! I don't pretend to be a bit better than others; pretense isn't in me; but then I'm no worse. How a clergyman like you can go on wwking among us and trying to do us good—" "Stop," Bainbridge said, quietly. Miss Higgins came to an abnq)t halt. As her fadte 347 THE LIFTED VEIL tean were already flowing, she began to cry. "Now that you've got me in your power," she whimpered, " I suppose you're goin^j to roia me." To this it was a long minute before he made a response. He needed the time to disperse the thoughts of which Leslie \^aa the center that crowded in the forefront of his mind. He also needed the time to remind himself again that, viper as this woman made herself, it was for Imr to disclose in her the spiritual and the lovely and help ner to be true to it. Another man's task, he admitted, might be different; but that was his. "Now yott see why Leslie is so eager that you shouldn't marry." "Now you see what's been weighing on poor Maggie aU these years, and what she couldn't under- stand." "Now you see why Leslie and Qorinda have been supposed not to like each other, liking eadi other probably too wdL" "Now you see—" By a heroic effort be dismissed these thoughts, or thrust them backward, in order to say to Miss Higgins, with something like calmness of utterance: "No, I'm not going to ruin you— not if you do what I tdl you." She whimpered again. "Youll ruin me ;f you take away my means of livelihood. I sha'n't have five hundred dollars a year. I've wnply got to go everywhere and see everybody — " "I'm not going to take away your means of livelihood. I shall only ask you to iT^ what will leave you with a dearer conscie n ce. You're not a mean and spiteful woman naturally, though jrou've done some mean and spiteful things." "I didn't do them meanly or spitefully, either — " "No; you did them only foolishly, and with a wish to nuke money out of other people's failings." He Upped 34S THE LIFTED VEIL the podiet ooatainmg the Ddphic oracles. "I've been looldiig over these pages. Every thing in them isn't unlondly, by any means. It's gossipy and trivial, to be sure, and not worth while; but there's no gieat haim is It. Why shouldn't you write like that?" "They wouldn't want me ta" "Try it. People have been good to you; be good to ttem-Md see. There's a line in the New Testament ^di I dare say you remember. The authorized version givesitas: 'Ever follow that which is good.' but a modem teanaUtion makes it: 'Always foUow the kindest course. ' I m going to ask you to take that as a sort of motto— " " It isn't in me not to be kind," she sobbed. 'No, of course, it isn't, not naturally." "But if I'm not siricy— " "JjMttryitandsee. If evil seems to succeed, good will succeed better. M we need is the courage to act up to it. I shall be surprised not to learn that if you've been paid for bring nasty you-U be better paid for being nice And there's one thing more," he hurried on, not aUow- mg her to speak. "You've dcme a great deal of harm to Leshe and Maggie Palliser. I want you to help in put- ting that right." The prognathic jaw dropped again. "If it's going to ttem on my bended knees-and eating humble pie-and teHjng Uiem that I was just putting two and two together --that I couldn't do. It's not in me. Oh, don't make me doit — " "Wait! Let me finidi. I don't want you to see them. I don't want them even to know your name. Well- well not do anything sensational or theatrical. They tiiink well of you as it is. Let them continue to do so. But '—he todc a moment to reflect-" but go over tiiere— " '7 349 1 THE LIFTED VEIL Wri?? to !L! *^r -^ *^ *'«' what I dfctrta 2^»4^te on p.p« with ao add««^ «,d n«se^e «Xs „X ^1°^ "^T" askyoutopardonit. I shall J ^-^^^^ "Don't put any signaturt," he added "A. f « ♦». * t ^«al« the nece^ explanatlSthich'^wi^n^U riS Kn2 T °° ""f ^'** ^''«« =*« brought the «»! ^s^rrinS'^rpSr^^^^raL'tr.^ 3«y «ul g^tuitous thou^'lcenly^^t?«^h':X-S^^ ^^^ °^- «yhfe." The words passed thniu^hHr^f'**^'*"*" •^ «».. -n^JTS^iTSi' asi THE LIFTED VEIL method, of acceptance, and which should be his? Evm here there was a ri^t and a wrong; even here he had to beamiest. There might be a thing pennissible to other men «*ich would not be pennissible to him; there might te th^T**^ ^"^ *^ *"** """^ not be a nec«dty It was as far as, for the moment, he could go. All was •o obscure that when he covered his eyes with his hands he made nothing any darker. In the darkness he could only endure. Thought became formless, chaotic. Even suffering grew to be an uniUumined. biutal thing, like the saBmag of some huge beast neither seeing nor seaichine a why or a wherefore. Into it he was so deeply plunged that It was hke the primal order of things, nerveless in- orgwuc. unconscious. He might have been immersed in It; he might have been drowned in it. During the space of a long half-hour he might have been reduced to the amoebic, to the protoplasmic. When inteUigence began to stir it was in disconnected phrases out of the ageless record of human experience «*ich was to hmi as his every-day speech. They came without prehide and passed without sequence, out of the darkness and into the darkness again. "Yea, even mine own familiar &iend whom I trusted hath laid great wait for me." "Ah sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed oi evildoers." "And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet— and dedced with gold and ptedous stones-and upon her torebead was a name written— mtstery " "And they caa« laden wirt^tTrUT" '-; "' ''' generations:. "^ neea aa. -x-titi.,,. :,' -^t,. " De profuHdis ckmmi ad U Domi^- n ■ tionless ^^t^nnXZ^tT^'^ - -- meetings they sh • ^ ^ ^'^ ^«°»«' to *ake the r<^ limit as «m» t* • '^^ ™*° knows no such mnit as tune. It is new every momine It iq n.),/,™ everyday. Our love of tSon^^JL^t^ substituting a dead past for a Uvine Christ- nnJic^ * offenng the petrified thing-the stone." ™™^ '"^'^ Ah, but is the world hungerine and tfiir<^„„ & righteousness?" Bainbridfie feS^, „fr^« ^ ine to tw. fh«» .. A ™r^ the root of his question- fflg to be there. Are the people of New York doine it SnlH^M r** T^ we nrix With everjr day-ani think highly of-and-^d"-the word camTout witH S^l^ "acedness and passion-' wlj A«ntm«t of us rotten? Isn't it putnsfaction rath^ than petnfaction that makes our difficulty?" Jhe k^^d eyes rested on him long and sympatheti- cauy- I see. That's what's troubling you. I knew ass THE LIFTED VEIL "It has troubled me too— in the past It doesn't ao much now, because— wsU, because it dqiends someirhat on one's point of view— on ooe's way o£ looking at one's fellow-men." Bainlmdge's bloodshot eyes asked the necessary oues- tion without words. ''You can see human beings from the angle trf their vice and depravity, in which case you despair of them as— to use ytwr own word-as rotten. Or you can see them from the angle of their struggle with evil, in which case you applaud them as soldiers, or, like Some One Else you have compassion on the multitude because they are as she^ having no shepherd. I once-" a new pause gave emphasis to his words before he uttered them— "I once looked upon all New Yoik as materialistic, soulless, de- bauched, besotted, and stupefied with success. Tcwlay— I have compassion on the multitude-and on the indi- ■taduals who make it up. I know them. I know their ^eedj and their lusts and thtar impieties and their crazes- but I know, too, the fight they're making." "Some, perhaps," Bainbridje objected, piomDtlv "a few; not all." ■" "Yes, an— in the sense that to get rid of our evils- social, poKtical, personal-is a large part of the spirit of the day No one escapes it whoUy, not the most indifierent or selfish. What is it, for example, that Mary's been telhng me about Clorinda Gildersleeve? Taken a poor httle girl, hasn't she? to give her a chance. Clorinda Gildersleeve is the type of the great American pagan. She s never belonged to a church, nor ber father nor her mother before her. And yet, you see! She reflects the nobihty of the age, of her surroundings." "In one respect," Bainbridge agreed, with an inward as6 THE LIFTED VEIL Uttenien of winch be tried to give no outwarf indi- cation. "One respect-if it's no more than that— is a great deal. It's the b^pining of the pixicess that sooner or later wiU andude aU respects. Don't be in too big a hurry. Don't try to go faster than God. I twed to. I don't now. Now I'm satisfied to watch the Sght— and forwee the victory. When any one comes to me now— or I go to hmv-and I learn things that a few yeara ago night have amazed or staggered me " "Then— what?" Bainbridge asked the brief question as a man who hangs on the reply. "Then— I take such things as the dust of the battle Where there's fighting, blood will flow— raw blood i«i blood— and that's always an ugly, animal thing-6 spiritual gifl^ IwedSlST"^ I never had Mt up an effiden^^ ^IXtt^ *^ ««* ^'^ clockwork; and per^^^r^ ^S^"'^« "^ biggest mcomes, and ori^^thThJ^ J^ 8°t one of the aost influential ™ati,^ ^,^ «md one of the there are senses in ^^fTJ^ *^" ~?*^-- "^^ yet rinda Gilder^leeve hLdle JoTS ^"^ *** ''^^ ^lo- the practical, usefuTt^HiT *^ °?«» P«»- Httle waif^ than be re^ JSc^'^^ *^*« *^' ^ «ean- much at^tiofto the ^V ^.^ *^* ^'^ 8^^ «> enough of the p^urt S"^^* ' ^^'' thought too old now ^« to d^CS^ ; ^•^'y I'- y«^.myboy. You'll li^^ ^^^'^ ^"t /«•'« «hgious, in the Christian ^rf^ f** '**"««' «» the ««°ething to d^ SS^V^i ■ ^"^'^'y y°"'« have the sha^g oTthTl^ "^^^ *^ y°" will-with andtheopLSSthtSnT^'^'^^ '"^'' "^ *« P-t- the Kvin?:^iri^'tSrn:-<^."'.« --aling of wm^ eag. to comeiSdtTaLJST*^' ^* '-'- heS^':?uS:t"Li:'ir^ - ^''■^-' h^ here- upon h« han situations he faLT.s^. h -fagmation flev. on to resolved itwlf „„*•■* u ^7' ""* ™°'« and more life I^nfyingbecon. active, it m^ ^ThSu£^£ ?el™ strataon of power. When he asked^elf w ^" answer c^e that "it would be J^i^^ ^°"' *^« ««lt.inthatitprescHhedLr4: -SeTwrno^S aofl THE LIFTED VEIL every «« thft c«2S*i^ Z Sd^^* ^'^f '^^'''^h answer with whi^^™^ , T"'''*' >« the kind of "Who art thou S»u -S^^r*^"?^ -«* -et. l^owntnasterhestanSriK"^"*^*^ T° last as the kev to h^ * , ^'«*' «me to him at ^<^ Sy irt^hiTrsr ^ s^ -^^ niasta- they stood or the,, fori T/^^ To their own v.^lS1Si;*Ct^a„«^-«-. he felt yet dawn, and the ^ I^ ,T^ ^- ^* ''^ ""t had Passek into a bl^r^"^'''^'. *-* •darkness nearer buildings wZ^^^Z.^^^ '^Wch the cubes and tow^^r^*"^ silhouettes, while the WithamuiSkS?^.^ "^."^^ ^-^ *^"1°"«- •ng. lC^^h:i"n^7^t^''°*^--awak- early church bells MV^CT-.- , "^"^ * ^"und of tricLs^S,,^°^fS2 ^/ tr^« °^ «'- streets wheels creaked nv^t^il ^ ^^ neighboring 7^. effect in 1 S^'tSr^al'^S? ^ ""^ And in and thiouirh <.„^^ ^ almost voiceless. wei. a ti^nS:::^^ ^ht Xch^t 2: ^, """^ ^°'-'»^ the humming of million. 1^"* "^^ compare to ^^^^^J^^^of milhons upon tnUions and banks and If during the morning he^had a sunrise it was that the THE LIFTED VEIL houn ptwhwed io little. In the coune o£ hii dutiM he «w • good many people, but there wai nothing to ^«t;ngu«sh these interview. fi«n other. 0/ theUnd Nothing new wa. revealed; nothing was "given him." Without premeditatmg" he had not been able to keep h^ from expecting. He had expected the strildngli each turn^^the memorable and dramatic; and aU wj a. o?^dS ""^ "" '^^ ''°^' t»" -««*«- out He drew the conclusion that tiiis guidimt lieht was J««vmg itself for the meetings that ^3tate p^ between himself and the three or four other main actora m the iMeoe ?^'^g'^Bt the other. TbMt ^it Mem«l lake gaang. though the time was iiwiffident te«o« than a brief resting of the eye,. OnteSt « h« with the diaimy of ««ng that she was obKged t,^ ^wi€« for hunsdf. a«, gossip of their conm«« friends would now have induced a condition of self^onsdousness As ,t was he becaaie obliged to note the successive phases of emotion through which she passed so quickly «^ariy a tinned mind could have observed th J Suipnse. alann mortification, bravado which developed w *T^' **^°'^ °" •»* ^"^er so dosely as to make aWeud. Thoughonlythelast,emained.hehi^seSS Z ^ °Z ?/ ""^ ''^ ^^ ^'^ '^ ^ the smile tl . f"\**' {"«*• "^ the fnuJmess with which she hTlSi^T '^ ^*^ '^ ** P^<=^«1- d«wn look he had lately remarked in her face, as well as by tte poignant mquuy he now read in her eyes nf '^* kT^'^TT* ^1PPLIED IIVMGE In ^K 1653 East Main Street " — «tinued on his way "IVe wanted you so I' '^"' '°""' ^^ ^'^'^P^'^J- Nev^^had'^ltrj- - ^n.. -.— ^n.- him command. NeveTL w . "^T ^- *° ''^^^ ..ov™ more .aS^t^ntrer^ s^ccSt^i^ tll'i THE LIFTED VEIL to him on the simple ground of woman coming near to man If she had had it in her mind to bewitch him with the fascinations that would most readily get possession of his senses she would have borne hereelf in jyst this way She was simple and noble and caressing and feminine now in turns, and now all at once. He was both enchanted and appalled. How should he tell her what he knew? How should he share or mitigate or forestall what must of necessity be he - .iment of humihation? Inwardly he begged, he pra ed, for the promised light. While he watched her and smiled and responded to her moods he was saying to himself that the veil was still down, thicker than ever, a darkness where he hoped for a pillar of fire, and he knew neither what to say nor what to do. But he waited. While she talked, somewhat inconse- quentially, on subjects of no importance, he made the necessary responses, but he did no more. The workings of his mind were not only complicated; they were self- contradictory. With one set of his faculties he enjoyed as only a lover can enjoy, the spell she cast over hL-n • with another he found himself, in spite of his warnings of the previous mght, again accusing her of treachery to Maggie Palhser; with .still another he was trying to anticipate her shame when he should have to teU her that her treach- «y was known. Between the humanly tender in him and the sacerdotaUy severe the struggle was so equal that they negatived each other, rendering him powerless. Who IS sufficient for these things?" he asked himself, becoming only the more certain that unless the longed-for guidance were given him he should be lost. Clorinda was restless, moving unquietly about the room changing the position of an ornament, a vase of flowers! a68 THE LIFTED VEIL or a bit of furniture, not because it was out of place, but because she couldn't keep still. He, too, was restless. When she rose, he rose; when she reseated herself he paced about; when she sprang up he was as likely as not to sit down. They were both standing, however, when he threw into the conversation, abruptly, "I met Mary Galloway as I came in." "Oh, poor Mary!" she continued, as she straightened a beflowered Chelsea shepherd and shepherdess on the cabinet beside her. "I told her. I thought it best." "Best to tell her, or best to tell every one?" "Both. I'd a lot of reasons for thinking she oughtn't to be taken by surprise." She stood back to consider the effect of the figurines. "Seeing her as often as I do, I can't help knowing— You see, if I hadn't intervened, poor Mary—" Sheallowed him to finish both of these sen- tences for himself as she hurried on. "And she's such a dear. No one knows how good she is better than I do. In spite of all I've done to— to upset the sweet thing's plans, she's as nice to me as ever. Why is it that the people who are so true and loyal and strong always have to be the ones to suffer most?" She went forward to move the shepherdess by the fraction of an inch. "And then I think we may as well tell every one. I mmit to tell every one. I shall write some notes to-night and post them. Then we shall have burnt our bridges, sha'n't we?" Notwithstanding the wild mixtiu-e of his emotions, he was hurt by the figure of speech. "Is burning our bridges the right term?" "Isn't it?" She threw him a quick look. "You're doing a daring thing — and so am I." He was aware of the opening for gallantry he was over- looking as he said, "What daring thing are you doing?" 369 m f' > THE LIFTED VEIL "I'm marrying the assistant rector of «?t »t Once more she came and interlocked h^ fi hisneck. "No; I'm glad h' .l.I.'^ ^^"^ ^"S^rs about He watched th.n ' ^"""^ "'"'='^ '""re for me " "He'ssa.^]:gme'^ ^'''°'"^'°^^°^'-"' oufont^.'Thi rro^- -f^^^^^^^^^^^ «^".^n. tures. -From myself fcTof^°' ^^ characteristic ges- "And then?" room. "Oh, I d^'llor 1^"''' *' °'^^^ ^'<^^ °^ ^^e tne too many questions " ^" ^°" '^'^'"^ ^ du:erh:tmt^^«XiT2s.fd'' ^^^^ " Yeq " Tha . , , -""^ *"e iiadn t done so. the back of a S^aU 5Z^i° > '° ''^^ ^'^ hands from with nervous hUt'^^^^ °dilf ' '.^ "" ''^^""^ touched him on the cheek -v . ' '^^ '^^^'l a°d ^^ '*^''- You re not jealous, are you ?" 270 •' THE LIFTED VEIL "That wouldn't be the word. I'm-.. But she hastened to interrunt- "w <. , "So Miss Galloway towT. k .? ^^^^ '° '>«*•" thS 2l°at'o2°!^'' ^^^ •»« *-- I can't say eve^- as^ef^'' ""^^ ^°" ''^^^ -^-^ J^? VouVe never whltSll'^- "^-^-^i-* about tha.dme-.o haidstS S S^S° "-• , Standing with his that he's her<>-peien,rv ,'^r'^^ ^"^^ '''' ^^^' eagerness tc^to^bur^r^rij^^,'"^' *° '" ^* 3^°^ w^^ s2 *:^ ^i^ ^S'^' °- -■-^. l^owever, there • It seen^s to n.e tha^'^ Sve^Shtft '' ""' ^^'^^'•' bum them " J ou ve a nght to know is-that I fied^t^t^r -- p- r '~ '^ - -^^- tention, without agr^ing'S ^ 'TV" 'f ^°"- more important matter to kv Jf u '''^"'' ^^ ^'^ to him that the n^oment haJ^S" aw ^"'^^'^^'^ feel, though he eould feel no m^^ H.f^T'^- ""' "^"^ sensation of a man walkineT oitnfn t '^'''"^'^^ ''^^ said, quietly, as if tellW hp. f^ * ^^"'"^^ ^^^^n he been talking to the S„ 1! *T 'l^'^'^-^-- "IVe Leslie and MaggTa" """'^ ^'^^ ^'^^^ about him. If there Z^Tnv I "'^ '*"^ ^""^ '""ked at seemed sudSyTCe ^^ZVl '." '* "" *^* ^« " rafe-„g to him?" ^ ''"" °^ intelligence. 271 I- I h V ■ THE LIFTED VEIL H:gg«s had : Iped ht ^^^"'"f "-'-yal of Miss nodded-and watched * P""^^"' he merely fe- to a kind of dumbTw^tSl of t ''' '"' ''^"' 'f'Jd read what wa. passS hi 7 '^*«''*- »« ,*e had spoken out. K^^d .Jlj^"'^ ^ P^^riy as if J»es that had annoyed tZmt^,'" *^" ^*«^ of the tain dark^yed woi"'^' ^'^f" ^e knew who the "cer- had existed, was off the ^'rh ^ '"°"''' ^ ^^^ ^s it home, and grown no^Sv SV'" '*^' ^""^ "^^ »«« vulgar and gross. CTwn en °'°"'' ^"* ""=P«akabIy much of a covering buta^ ^"^ °^ «y^tery. not snatched fh»n her S w^T"^ f '''' ^«. had bS By imperceptible mtlfT'^^"'' helpless, hin- Neith7 noSow; they Maggie had a temp^^^"atr*°"'- ^hey knew ^d so they put tw^anTtwn J "J" ""^ g°°d-looking, f uation. That C was^ff •jf.^"'! '"vented th'e than a happy shot." ^^ ^^''^ « it was no more HifS.J'^rwltcTthftr^t '"°- '^^^-"'^e. from the force of it Buthe 1 r'^"^^ "^^^ "^^ °"t watching for the flash cwt of LT^ ^'*"^"2 ^°' direction. >« which this Ieadi^h^°^^^^- There was a sense was as if frxw, a dist^^ tt f^ ?^^ "" '^^ ™"d. It the-^herp«^„__:ir:oi^^J:e_h^dher.y.. -But that^^^^S^Lt;^S-°->'--wer.„orany was guesswork, too. sShI t°/espond: "Oh, that THE LIFTED VEIL to add: "Leslie told me it was an actress; but the person who wrote the articles hadn't heard so much as that. They said it was pure invention— speculation at the most —and based on almost nothing." As she was putting her handkerchief to her lips in a way he had never seen her do before, he thought it well to give her further assurance. "The important thing is that they exp essed regret that their careless words should have given so much trouble, while I know that it's not to happen again." She bowed her head. Some seconds went by before h.; perceived that she was crying. She was crying bitterly, almost hysterically, and with a hint of laughter in her tears. It was the first time he had ever seen her give way to such emotion, and in an instant he was kneeling at her feet. When he tried to draw her to him, uttering soothing words, she, like Miss Higgins, yesterday, seized both his hands and kissed them. But he himself was wondering why his confidence had not been sustained. Nothing had been given liim. Noth- ing had been said. Nothing would ever be said now. The opportunity had gone by. Of his complicated yearn- ings only the compassion had been gratified; and the veil was as closely drawn as ever. CHAPTER XIX r\N making his way between Mrs. Gildersleeve's house ^^ and that of the Pallisers, Bainbridge could only reason that the guidance on wiiich he had counted was being reserved for his interview with Leslie and M .ggie He had arranged for it beforehand, telephoning that he had something important to say. Leslie having answered the call, Bainbridge knew by his voice that he was in ^,ome trepidation. Much as he would have liked to spare his old fnend, he felt it beyond his power to do so. repeating the words of one who. three thousand years before had tried to modify the Lord's decree, and found himself obliged to utter it even against his will: "The word that God putteth into my mouth that shaU I speak." He was nothing but a mouthpiece. His difficulty lay in the fact that m Clorinda's case the mouthpiece had been charged with no message. If the same thing were to happen again. ... But the same thing couldn't happen again. In Clo- nnda's case he. Bainbridge. had not been sufficiently detached, impartial. He loved her o mucJi that to the subtler, severer inspiration his ears had been dull of h^si- ing. He loved Leslie and Maggie, too-but otherwise. It was not m such a way as to put him out of the question as the Lord's instrument. That he should not have faced the matter with Clorinda was a failure of which he was 27s lil ,r> ■ THE LIFTED VEIL ashamed; but since they were to have their life together he might find subsequent opportunities to make amends to her. And they were to have their Ufe together. With her arms about him, and her cheek against his, she had whis- pered: -When shaU we be married? Can't it be soon?" He had rephed that, Lent being so near, they would prob- ably be obhged to defer this happiness till after Easter. She had argued that they needed no preparation; they had only to walk into the nearest church. St. Mary Mag- daien's for preference, and have the ceremony blessed There they had left the question, undecided; but the fact that It had been raised, and raised in so definite a manner, filled Bainbridge with a joy which was only the more excitmg, certainly the more dramatic, for the ele- ment m It he could only describe as acrid. In Sixty-ninth Street he found Maggie waiting for him in the library with a kind of resigned impatience. " Well Arthur, what is it now?" were almost her first words of greeting. "It's good news, Maggie; at least, I hope you'll find It so; but I'll teU you when Leslie comes. In the mean while I want to say a word to you." f ,'.i^^"'.f^ '*■" "^"^"^^ ^*^ ^«^If. '«^th hands tolded and feet crossed, she looked up at him. There were points of view from which she was not the Maggie Palliser of three months before. Mental suffering had subdued her color and deepened the lines of her face- out through being less blowsy she was less pronounced' and through be-.ng less pronounced she was gentler and not so masterful. Bainbridge did not sit do-..n. He stood over her in an attitude of authority. " You're going to get a new chance 276 THE LIFTED VEIL now, Maggie, to see Leslie in another light, and I do hope you'll make good use of it. I've told you all along vou were not just to him—" "Has he been just to me?" " Perhaps not : but try what being just to him will do in .ne way of making him so. A man is most likely to put his wne's claims first when she does the same with his." Wait till you're married yourself— and you'll see." "I hoi* to; but for the minute we're not so much ocCTipied with me as with you. I want you to be generous to Leslie — • 'IP^t^f' ^5" '"y ^ear man. there isn't a woman in New York who's been more—" "Yes, yes; I know. You've supplied him with ash and so long as he was willing to lick your hand, vc ..-er^ ready to do it. But that's not enough. You must give hun not only aU you have, but all you are. You mu^t do It once for all; you must keep nothing back. You and everything you possess are to be his. There must be no more doling out. He must be master. For the very reason that you re a big, strong, wealthy, dominating woman you must make yourself humble and small and obedient-" She laughed in his face. "I've heard of a camel going through the eye of a needle—" "Which was said to be an easier task than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven, and I'm afraid it applies to a rich woman, too. You know, Maggie, the kingdom of heaven is not in some other world; it's in this. If you're going to enter it you've got to enter it now. ^or husbands and wives a large part of the kingdom of heaven is in what they can find in each other." Her eyes were brimming as she said: "If LesUe had only been willing there's nothing I wouldn't have— " 277 \\ THE LIFTED VEIL "You see, Maggie, you've been in a position to dictate all the terms; and you've dictated them. You've niever taken into consideration the fact that Leslie is a scholar and an artist, that he's sensitively independent, and that the one thing under which he's restive is rule. Your in- stinct is to rule, and you've ruled him. That is, you've ruled him in his outward conduct, while his spirit has been nules away from you. I've heard you say that something had come betwe'-n you and you didn't know what it was — " "I do now. It was other women." "Wait till you hear what I've got to tell you. In the mean time let me go on. You could give orders to Leslie, and he was obliged to obey you, because he had no money of his own. You used the advantage your money gave you to keep him on a string. But you could only keep his body on a string; the real Leslie, as you felt acctu^tely enough, escaped you. It's the real Leslie you need for your happiness, and so long as you keep him tied you'll never have him. Oh, Maggie, let him go free—" "But I teU you he is free." " In this house he's just as free as I am." "Well? Aren't you our dearest friend—?" "Exactiy; and Leslie is in precisely the same place. The other night, for instance, when you offered to send me home in one of the motors because of the storm, I wasn't to tell Leslie if I wanted it; 1 was to tell you. Leslie was here in the room with me, and you were up- stairs; but I was to send a servant, or do something like that— No, no; let me go on. That's a small thing; but it's significant. It's an illustration of the way Leslie has lived with you for nearly ten years. He's been a superior lackey — " "I've been talking Her query was the THE LIFTED VEIL J^\^^f °"'' "^ ^^""^ ^^y ''ho hasn't hesi- N^ZS' "' ' '-«""«-*«^ - half the paiil '•Not Imlf the newspapers in New York, but one paoer They stood confronting each other, to the writer of the paragraphs." Maggie drew a long, deep breath same as Clorinda's. " Well ?" IT. took out his pocket-book, and from its contents •Sd that^"* "'''* '^ "^"'^^ ^ ^y hef^heJ She read it dowly. Having finished it, she dropped back mto her chair to read it the second time. " W^U Arthur you do beat everything," was her only comment as, withou Mting her eyes, she began on a thkdT^ It was only on completing that that she loSTto say, "What on earth do you make of it?" ^ He drew up a small chair, on which he sat sidewise h^ arm on the back. "I make this. The paper ^S he paragraph to which you objected ap^^Ts mo2 In ; ^,^^" -i' ^ '""** ^ Americans like. In it we're a^ handled without gloves just to see how v^i ^^ I s not meant to be taken seriously, and nine SJZt tTJ^w f"''^- I*'«°-fon»ofcaricatureSS sort of thing done in Prance or England by SoHr q^ orMaxBeerbohm. I can't say that'l'm enthuSri f^ wnat I say-not m mtention. Where it can play the 270 THE LIFTED VEIL mischief is where it accidentally stumbles on a bit of too poignant truth." "Accidentally? I like that." "It was accidentally in your case. The writer told me so." "Who was it?" He considered. "It was some one who has no more personal ill will toward you than Spy toward the Enghsh Statesmen he's drawn so amusingly." "Was it any one I know?" "That I'm not going to tell you. Ill say only this, that It's some one who has to earn a Hving, and this ap- parently is the obvious way. I don't defend it, but then I don't condemn it. It's a big world, and if we're going to make the best of it we must let the principle of Uve and let Uve be something of a guide. It's enough to say that you were taken, not maliciously, but simply as a person conspicuous in New York society, and made to serve your turn. Other people had served theirs, and yours had come round. The main point is that if you hadn't given a handle by— now don't be offended, Maggie!— I'm going to speak straight out!— if you hadn't given a handle by lettmg your temper and your wiUuhiess become ahnost a byword in the town—" "The main point is that if LesUe hadn't taken up with some other woman sonotoriouslythat everybody knewit—" "No; that isn't a point at all, for the simple reason that as far as the writer was concerned it was pure in- vention." He continued the use of Clorinda's pronoun. "They told me so." She leaned toward him, her eyes almost starting from her 'isad. "Arthur, for goodness' sake, what are you~ talking about?" 180 THE LIFTED VEIL "I'm simply telling you what the writer told me-that the dark-eyed woman was merely dragged in to make drama. You <^ see for yourself that a story in which there was no third person, in which you and LesUe had It aU to yourselves, would have lacked spice; and so Clonnda Gildersleeve was introduced to make—" Maggie shouted. "Whatf" "The writer had passed Clorinda's house and seen fi^l T"^ out-twice. if I remember rightly-and thereby hung the tale." s / .u "Oh. my God!" She threw herself back in her chair while a big explosive laugh sh«,k her person, and rang through the room. "Clorindaand LesUe! Oh. Lonl. how long! ^o! No! That's too funny!" The effect was what he had hoped to produce. "And It s aU there is to it^s far as the paragraphs are con- cerned. I ve the writer's own word for it. and I know It s true. They were going by in Madison Avenue, and I^ie was coming down the steps. Then, some two months later, the same thing happened, and—" "Does Clmnda know?" Maggie could hardly control her mirth sufficiently to get the question out " No I saw her to^y. but I didn't tell her. Possibly 10^^°*' "*''**'^8^a«°otto-PPearany She exploded again. "Pouffl We must tell LesUe- we simply must. Qorinda gets on his nerves—" "Then mightn't it be wise for that reason not to say anythmg about it? If you and I know, may it not be just as weU to let sleeping dogs lie?" Maggie fairly shook. "Yes, but the joke of it?" He might not enjoy it as much as we." "Do you mean that we're to keep it to ourselves?" ' 281 I THE LIFTED VEIL ■iT^s r^r-'" «-« - the anns of her cHair. thl'^!!"" "^ ^^"'t^' and began to think. He had the better opportunity for the i,«son that Magrie w2 rocking m a new outburst of hilarity ^^ Leslie and Clorinda! No, ifs t-o funny! men IVe She quieted down. "Who.? Leslie?" "If you'd only given him his head, Maggie and let was most concerned with was thequestiras to^etht^ or not the leading he expected was to be gi^trf h^ dev^c« which, rf It contmued. meant that he would Z with Leshe as he had failed with Clorinda. It was to gam tune m feeling the way in which to deal wirthS wa^'cZiSlT^' ''°"^' *° ^^ '^'' ^ f^ as Maggie .^« ^ T?^^.' * ''^ ^^°« l>y his ai^uments ^e dea tha Leshe was in love with her. ^^ZTSvealS the fact to some one else, had not been without ite ^eS If not won by ,t, she was softened. That which wis m^t 283 THE LIFTED VEIL t™ly Maggie Palliser was nniv f~, j any terms that™I^w^.*°°f^^ *° ""^'"^^^ °n Jess innSTn^e LS.^^rh'^^'^-^^^^- romance. The shots wei^awi?^,* '"''^^ °f hannlessly away fn^Th^L'Se^St'lr '^^^ joints ill their harness It ,Jc 7 .u * ^"^ ^^^k Maggie in particular to ^ ^1^"^ '""'■ ^'^ f^ for the future and n4de ^rZ- ^°' ^^ '""'ded "Oh. well, if it^L^^I^V'f'^^h easy attack. Maggie exclaimed ioXir-li""^ Gildersleeve." ^on^ Clorinda is feXw ' ^ j=^ ^""^^^ hi"- Of certain chan.-a^ytt'l'SS-lwrf. ^'^'^ '^^^ ^ look at her the second time TIT ^ f"'"* ^°^^^'^ of mine. We've TplySo 1l "^ * ^ ^"'^ °^ «>"^" one wouldn't be. ^S de^.l^ ^ t*'* ''"'• ^°' ^'^^^ so moony and half-Sk2^° 3! ''T/ f "" *■"* ^^^^'^ overthat. Who thelJSns ^SX If ^1 "^"^ «^* "P such a yam? Som.^^^i^'^,'^''^\'^^^ Wrenn.? It aw I've al^o, -i^/ Was it Bessie do with repo^ H^ i. ^ "^^ "^^ ^ ^ething to columnsl^AS^e'fL^cZ^' "T °"* °' ^''^ ^^ but Clorinda does 1 hSe^Hff T*'^ ^ "^""'^ ^^o'^-' « the air. Tl^ ^^ '^*^' "^^^ bead's so much her when all thr;tW ^Z"" "^^^"^^^ '«^' °"' of fo.L^.andh«^S.r,2-^;::^ti„;butas He smiled, perhaps uneasily 283 THE LIFTED VEIL "What do you mean by after all?" She seemed not to have heard the question. "What about the other man— the Canadian?" "WeU, what about him?" The answer came slowly, and somewhat doubtfully. Oh, I don't know— nothing, I suppose." "Then why did you ask?" "Oh for no reason. On general principles. With Clonnda — ''Yes, Maggie? With aorinda--what?" "Nothing, nothing. Only one never knows which wav the cat's going to jump." "Did you expect it to jump that way-the way of Malcohn Grant?" "Good Lord! man, how can I tell? It hasn't jumped that way, so let's be thankful." She sprang from her seat. 'I'm gomg to kiss you, Arthur. No; sit still," she commanded, as he struggled from his chair. " There '" A smack resounded on each of his cheeks brfore she al- towed him to rise. "That's to wish you luck and to thank you for all the good you've dcme me. I'm going to try to foUow your advice. Not that it isn't all imagina- tion, what you think about my attitude toward LesHe Stuff and nonsense it really is. I've never tried to rule anybody in my life — " "You've just done it." "But if it's going to make Leslie any happier I'll go to him for every penny I ipend, and make him believe that It s his own hard earnings. And as for you, Arthur dear If Clonnda does marry you, she-U make you a wonderful wife — m her way." The smile with which she now rega.-ded him was so maternal and sympathetic and mouraful that he found it 284 THE LIFTED VEIL ^.possible to hide the trouble it inspimL "Maarie. what makes you so doubtful?" «i«ggie, ;Tm not doubtful. I'm onlj^-wondering.- Wor.'.ering what?" "Wondering. I suppose, what Qorinda will do aert." Is she so capndous?" "No. I shouldn't say she was capndous." _ Irresponsibie, then, or inconsequential?" No; neither of them." "Then what?" knnw ^^J^l^.^ hands- "Good Lordf man, I don't kiiow. But she's not hke other people. She's a rek^ of mme. and I've known her all &e4n^d S^^ late yean, V^ known her v«y wen M^fJ^ don-tknowheratalL That's fl^t. She's am^ ^ t^T,^'^.^^ ^ *^* 'hen you ^Kd S !^v^oL T.^"^"*^'**^^ When, she is H«^ on^y knows I've never been able to find her." But if I have?" " Then you're ludder than most of ts. Who's the n«- Te S^S^. *f r^ ^*° water^^Tet S^' <»ietned to seize hmi? WeU, die's a Kttle like that Whl she cUdn^ many Malcolm G«nt in the fi^p,^.^^ .,^'<^°y°"n>eaa by the firet place?" "K,h^^T- ^'"«°''h« she made us all think-" It she had her reasons—" ^^ 'ihJt\f^^^^'^^^°^^ She always has. But . " y^ lS°";'S't'"'t*- :^y^^- Arthur I-sh cZo^yJ *^* ^^ but that if it had been Mary '■Don't Maggie, don't," he cried, as he held her hands. Only, she added, reflectively, "a maniage in wWch one 2Ss THE LIFTED VEIL ^^Xl^ I^LT'* ^-- ^ ^t? It .ust .ean hadn't kept me o^e t, T' '°'^'^ °^ ''• ^ Ledie soexdtia?; aadrdli^^Jg^?!','^'* have been half t«tt alone, he was able bv shew- ,^,»,* . r into the background theZ^T ^^ ^"''^ *° *hrust «ate ClorindHZ Z^l "^^^'^^ «emed to sep- must take pLlS^hL Tf"** '''' ^« «^t came into th^^^l ^ ^"^ ^"^ ^^^ Each would k^SoTll. ""f" ^'^^ *''« °*er. ^e woman mel^ IS?^ ""^ "'^^' ^»>^t the have to talk ^^1^"^"^**°"^- They would B«,e-s present pfwi^rSs1t'^'"^ ^" '^^-'^ B«^To:d^ rr^,^ i^^ - -<".,tni. •^ho- he mui m^t Wld W^^ "'^'^ "-^^^ *^« Keepbg°S^";L^^-^ J^ ^''^ »8°°^g thing, there was nothing tT^^\^ "^^'^^ ^ P^^^le, witho-.tsomu<^'ifhiLt ^^^.'^^'^-^^i-tion. suggestion were to be v«^t, *Tu'.* ^PP^^^d, and no either to utter mSiXZ? ^'"' ""' ^"^^^ »^^« Suddenly he ZZt^f/^^^^ °' ^e dumb. «yspeech'wLirih^„r:i'"f-~'"^- -And ^t in demonstration onTSt'^tf^l''''^^ 286 THE LIFTED VEIL ?Cr! ,?* "^ ""^^ "^^ ^ hoping for ^^foUow the kindest coui^-^ '"■ exSw^ •«---- than reminiscent of a ^ Tbey foUowed hJ^^Zt^^V^' """ther-tong^e "Vie with one^ott^. ^ ^^^ ^"»° « ^fe. "Ending his ow^S^^'^^'*' '°' P^"*- «v«y one '■Let every one be quick to hear. Uow to sceak " ^^have compassion on the multitu^d^TSte ccm- I sS..^°^ *•-* ^ P"«eth into my month that shaH ^this. Ea^^Xr^t^h'^hisinfe^^ "The woid that God putt^th ,^ ^* «na2«ne„t. speak"-^d GodXfSnsa^*? 1""°^'^ '^^' *^ I silence, and an eloqu^t He H^ KT ^ '^P'^^^e He was putting ^h« ™ L^i^^ ""^"^^ ^«»" the rccm. It was Maggie's voice Lffl^ ^f.' ''^ ''^'^ « ^°>^- ■Maggie was speakine amir, xi- ' rinda's were aU bTS P. », -fT "^" "^-^ ^1°- e caught. ^Hehumed to the door. His :^ If THE LIFTED VEIL hand WM actuafly on the knob when he heard tn ine- preaable exclamation from Leslie. Was it a laugh or an «th or an expression of incredulity? He didn't know He wanted not to kno„--never to know. He was out in J^L"^^ *'^«''* °^ ^^^ °*y ''^thout knowing. dooi rf,^ tj^^ r^.^ '*"'^°« on the steps with the d«>r shut behind hun did the perspiration hitsak out on he h^ escaped a danger. If so. it was the danger of speaking--when silence was of God. He saw then what he had not seen hitherto. The ^h^'!!,'^*?wu''?^= but he was not. He must drain 2^^-thl,- T" *°^' '•^•^ *^^ ^^ *° be- left tt^^ i^**^*"*^- **^e ''as not to know more than she toew already-flor Lesli^or Clorinda. a^ Si r ^/Z^^y'^^- He was to carry all three of t^^T^ ^ "^"^ ~ "^y "^"^ *^ the past four or five yea»— in his heart. So be it; he wa3 ready; he was able; it was obviously rff ; "5 !t ^ r^* down the steps and made his way d^ly and ti^oughtfully toward a splendid wintry sunset tte mner ved seemed, if not actually lifted, a littte farther CHAPTER XX IN the end the pressure of many considerations forced * Bainbridge's consent to a marriage before Lent. What reluctance he felt was on Clorinda's account; and yet her persisting eagerness produced its effect on him. She made him feel like a man holding open a door to one who was running from a danger. The existence of the danger coming to be admitted by both, she persuaded him that once she was within the shelter he commanded there would be nothing more to fear. Then, too, he began to realize that, after all, Leslie Palliser had been right. People did seem, at heart, to be in favor of the ceUbacy of the clergy. The announce- ment of his engagement came to the members ost as svrange. elusiv? i^o^^^l^^^^'P^'^ to regari paean chann, but r^STio^"^^*^ » ^«« bent their own necks-S^f ^"^ *° '"hich they «f f-f expe„-:^iS;i^L^r"-"-ion- the least possible comment TnKr ^'"^ ^^^ there was no small number who Lwv ^ Magdalen's ««.gned themselves as v^Z^ ^\""'' ***"'^ «°d '^ho Others were m<«,Tr»r^^ ""^ '''•*" " '^ader faife had been onToTTefcT^T;- ^"- E"- 1'^ p-inrwSoi;t^;tr'""^*'^-'>'-^ JeirBr^-d^e^L^^i^"^^^^^^ all had such hard work to^-IH '"r'^'^'y- "^"^'^ can't afford to have^vtLl^^ n^ i*"" P^"* *^t '^ Not th^t I'm h£,^^^£ d^bi^r r^ one ,s. wanner friend to her tTnTai^t 71 ^'^ understand. I tell i^.^ „„ Tu . f°*^«>t I Imow you of tmth in it-tJa oTS^t^ "^* ""^'^ »°* "^ ^U«ble one who can^ trLtJL ; ,,!" *' ''""'^ y°"'« '^e not auU^ori^S^^^^rcTSo?"' ^.'"^ ^ ^'- an «d l^plSr^ '*' ^.^r *•-' "-^e would put Mary Gallcwav ThJ .T, • .^"'^ ^ exception of 391 " II mj h THE LIFTED VEIL that Leslie had been right " '^ '^ *«> P««ivb As for Leslie, he had met him onlv on«. «-„~ *i. j on which the engagement had^rL^.^*^"^^ S^S^k!^'^ P-t'callyTZSa^^lS -." s4^S.^2"h^^ ^w^frlS^xtlS- keep it to myself " « was so good I couldn't said-he was as mad asTh^lfT i* 7^.^* ^ y°" ^;^Wco„rtrei^^-,J^--^e the difficult t^s^fSst^SSeriTt'* ZT °' befS^T■c™'5 ii^do^r^er i^r^r^^fr could use the worrt t,„™lT ,• !^' ^o^unately— he i«i». wo*, -God to !»„» ^ r pS.^^2 THE LIFTED VEIL &)dal«,eshaUknow" Bainbridge was happy to let it be so It was not only easiest, it was best LesUe and Cl«^da would thus be able to meet as theyS bS meeting m the past three years, with their seSet tetw^ them not suspecting that it was shai«i. If hy^S^Z ^^f ir;° ^ZT' than he or she h^^S^^ already, it would only be himself. nf ^u^ M ^f °° ^^^ "^^ unexpectedly in the Kbrarv ^dSlt^Hhe^''^'^^^ It was that hour iJ^ mddle of the afternoon when one set of members had gone and anofter ret hadn't come, and in theirTnd^ the big ro<»n they were face to face and alone. Baintad^ S^rtff X^ ^ ^"* °^ *« <*^ ^here Leslif^ stretched with a book. The latter looked up with a stl^ with a start Bainbridge stood stiU P '""i a start, hi'lf ^^^^l "^^^ ^^ ^^ P^ ' ■ idi the latter had dreaded. At sight of Leslie's taU, languid fo^Z the easy fashionable clothes whici Maggie-fSmr^S nent. umfoim tan-^t sight of his dreamy eyes wiSr Jshes of a length and a beauty which shidd'^nevrb^g the sudden dectnc force which had impelled this manto Clonnda and Clorinda to him. i--' tms man w> totilJe'hS;;?"*'"! °^ which'Bainbridge had studied ^ T^f r^ was taxed to its utmost in that second. It was taxed not merely to hold him back from spnnging on Uslie with the lithe, leopard-Uke st^Z fS ..^ , ^.*°° '^°'''- '' ^^ *^«1 t° keep him fein actively and consciously hating this man who had been his most intimate friend and despising him. HeS 393 THE LIFTED VEIL since Leslie had rivw unhi^^ .^ !°"^ *^' '^^ ^own hinJSg to^le^^ at Columbia, ar>d had Bainbridg«. had despiLd hL He SttT'^' ^ months when he had been soJSnf 7 ,^ **""°« ^''^ his wife and endeavorinTt^ sounding Leshe's praises to he had d4Sir\?,^,^r.'"*r" *^' confessed his iniidehtv tal^Z "^^ ^^« ^ stc^ of an a^ ?e*hrdiS;^^i?!'^ T^^ «^« spised him too profoundlv7„^^ ^- He had de- to task. B^ whTS w ^''^'^"^y to take him in contempt. The Z^ZJ^i ! °"^*° * '""^'^ ^^ must put L ofhis^^rif ^^ '"^ "^"^S both He paused. the^J^^^ ^ ^' ^'T."' ^*"- only be taken as frie;,. »*«"'■■ fh;o__o«Z • • . D«ore ivent he was struck with concerned. ^ ^^ Galloway was w Decause they had been summoned to the telephone 298 THE LIFTED VEIL As far as Bainbridge had observed, neither of Mary's parents had ever planned anything between him and her or had betrayed by so much as a sigh a perception that their daughter was suffering. They had asked him to their Sunday-mght supper as a sign of infonnal fareweU, and had asked Clorinda with him. Clorinda had declined on the ground that, the ceremony being fixed for eight the next mormng, she needed the time for preparation and rwt; but Bambndge had been secretly glad of this friendly refuge for his last unmarried evening, especially with his accumulated burden of thought. In other dicumstances the house m Sixty-ninth Street would have been his natural resort, but he had been unable as yet to overcome a sense of discomfort in going there. Nevertheless, Maggie and Leslie were to be at the service on the following morn- ing, as neither Leslie nor Qorinda could afford to have it otherwise. "If he tells you things," Bainbridge felt himself pro- voked to say, as he and Mary sat in the glow of the veUum shade painted in fruits and flowers, "it's probably in the hope that you'll repeat them to Clorinda." "He's never said so." "But what have you thought?" "Oh, I've thought that." "And have you done it?" "Not always." "But sometimes." "When I saw no harm in it." "And Clorinda — was she glad or sorry?" "If there was anything to make her sorry I didn't tell it." "So that he said things that made her glad. Glad in what way?" agg THE LIFTED VEIL .^^•r^'^^y «« «^ he «id «,ight b.pp«, to ;;ih*t^ *^«» ^«« many way.." ■mere were some ways " they have been?" ™^ **^ '^3' would "IhaveaskJL. sSt aS'^^"^''"'' now-" he subjoined the wS. "TS^' ^ ""r odd expression that nmn„,+-j I- ^^" " "^ her j^ say?" prompted bm to add, "What should shS W?"*' *"* "'«* y^ -y y«««e«? How "IfTt^IT' '^°" ^° ^™ow, don't you?" thiil S TSyf:^"^ "^'^ ^^ ^. do you o4SSptt?Xf S^''^^ -- -^«- - ---.oin^r.' -,» -^^^^^ ruptS'ab^tly "^^T ""^ T-^^" ^ainbridge inter- on^Sso^g^-sbetSKr^^r- ^^*'^ didn't you?" "™«™i: ue .lere. You knew that, goJro^ve'^WaS^r''"""'^^^- ««'^ «ft- to^Je hL^^«;™; . She could hardly "What's he giving Sr "^ '"' '^'^■ 300 THE LIFTED VEIL And she s going to take *-hat '" _a,e couldn't help hei^ without bemg rude." at Si fl^^^'J?" "^^ "" "«P°^ ^ng meditatively " ™h ^ ^J^ '"' ^^"^ up it was to «y, taZdv ;'Ohyes Not as weU as I do now, but-" And what did you think?" She tried to take this indiflferentlv "Oh 4,,* „i, * "Did this pass?" "What do you mean?" I n^^^Sl ^^ ^°": ^^^ "^ ^ ^'^^ ^^ him then. i^n t she still m love with him >" F^'^u^^ ^°f "''• """^S *° ^°*'» spot in the room "Oh, but I'm not going to be married for love- that -^he subjomed. "not on her side-.ot ^Z'l^ "But if she calls it love—" "She doesn't-^cept with qualifications that do awav ^^th^^meamngoftheword. She's marrying m^^ " But if it's a respect so deep—" 301 THE LIFTED VEIL i; He laughed aeain. ••rn, •o deep but wh«t-but wWkLI^L?*^' '^ 3^ »«* tohiiifeet.hefoUo«ShrSL1l^*^" ^^^-^ ^eypiece, where th« ZL^ T ?"« "=«'* °^ «" He hardly knew what uiLTL ^^° ^ <« her face. to express had tjt ^ ^ ?. ^* '<»«» he wanted It had beenX:^e„r*br„^': ^^ ^ nund bef"^e G^^ *«^*-8 ^er brutally? o^as^'^i-^-trtii^^^^^^^^ intensely him«a wwnan's love? "" ""*^ '^ I I CHAPTER XXI this himself Se rt^lii n>a« entrance. He did Cauti,^ S becL?^ ^ ''^^ '* "^'^ the sexton. that .^th^,^ *^^JT "*r^ ^"^ *h«' «^n Miss Hi^2,t^^^ .^'"^y ^^ periodical to which pubUc. InlhrnSt^^fZ2l°^*°"«t°'^her faculty for pu^S^ id tw^?°^^ ** ""^"^ ''« th^atenedLeifcTr^iToS." '^ *''°"«'' '* of devotion, feS^ ^ ^"^Z '^ "T ^ "^^^ l««yer was to know himself m the hand of # I i THE LTFTED VEIL vision, shutting J thT^^pS^'f^^' ^"«-e«his ^^<* beyond that minuSilS^t"^ ^ *° ^ ■•IVe«St^^:£--£^r-act«..ora3. doing my best to s^ wlatl^lT^ *'^« "^ '* '^^^ ^^^t'stTeit^^^i^r' 'l*^' -^^^ «^e wan '^^g them into £^^T ^ff '^'^^^ '''^ ^ead, Jights he had tum^rSr ^71 '°V^^ "'^^ - '-" and nave remained dark "^ '^°°'" *^« ^^cel lJeanamethyst,andanoth^*Sce?"r„"^°^''^ ^P°* like an emerald, and anoth^T^ ^^ '^' ^nd another ^^ a rivulet of ZCt^f!„r *°Pif- -d mother picture; they waTl^tt^n^T ^l^' ^^ ^°^^ nc rich, palpitatmglS^htrS '"^f^*' ^'^^ ^^ "o l^niinous duUnL of ^dt? '"'^'^ ^'"'^ ^th the long lain ^ayless in thrS """^"^ ''^' '''^' ^^^ fig^ of a :^ng mi^. ^'^~°'" * ""^ °^er the 1-eeling woman's 'hS^'tJt"^^'."''"' ^''^ ^ ^ pmple shades in an s^h^er^^'^lT' ''°" ^^^ pavement on which it sZd thi ' .^^^ ^^ ^^^ «« through a nnmdedSf'aLd tT ''.' ^^'^^ It aU came softly, puirti^!' ,2 '^P'*'™ *h« ^■ « sunrise, it remain^ ^^' ^^ * '"°^' °°ly. unlike It -mained and seemed^^live; it seemed to live and THE LIFTED VEIL no one quite lo.owingthel^.::,'^*- SKwIST' wisdom which foresaw that a woimn not thlT^ * cunous, cxanplex twentiefh^Z^^ ™ bom— a seemingly whole-w'S^SVeTirjr*"'' "* °°-' reserves-would hr,vl i, • ^t^ange, unexpected brought he^'H^dh'^^^j'^r "^^ "^^ of aFebruary momfngl^ihw'^I^ '^ **■" ^^ "s^t should be^ndedaLrtW Tf'^ '" ^^"*3^ h« of men might do he S^^d^'^t^j' a wl' '^^ T°"*>' than as his Master? °°^ otherwise ^tt'raiSrhiJtr "*r*^' ^-^ ^^^^ SVhtrr ff"- - -tTaif,-- cof oSrh*i%-s r s^'^-XedT pnde and simm«l J,«- ,.. "'■•uiy, naa outraged her him ^e tuS"2 tfamr^lr." T 1° revenged on him- anH t,J^ manymg to be him 4 inspi^ by^'si^ ^^ *° ^. -venged on which paid noheed ta^ ^^ ^"°^« ^P"lses their an^d"hiV^f • "' ."^P^^ mony; which is an wT u? ^^^ *" ^°^y n^tri- m^ticaluniontSj^Sri^f^J^l-o . the so violentfyCd 35^^Tan^:r ^^ ^ ^sw^ ^e an uMiense pity for her lU^TV!" ^^* ^^ It THE LIFTED VEIL dissuade her not' t ^d W h^"" *°° "^^ ^ dissuade her at any time^ S^hStJ^'^'"' *° and whether he had he«, IT- , ^ ''««' ^o inclined, impossible to t^ AU^c^d ?"1 .? "° ''^ '°^^ '* recaU the words h^hJ 1 ** ** ^"**^t ^ to and which S;reita^?,t'" *° ''''«"« ^-"t' quented byways'She tn^^*!™ ^^JJ^^^h -fr- anything for a woman-if i^ H^'e.™ T^ ! '"''^ '^^ "^^ and stn,ng enouXH^i^ l^T f* '""' ^""^^^ ^eat and sac^dlow ^^ets t^ ^^t^Ts^ -nat, come what micrT,*- tu^ _ ^^'^ sort, so should find hLTS^""^ rr^^^ - ^- -» wheeze on. ^® '^'**°'" continued to they nuy n^^^^wf^r^^rtotti: ^ ^^ ^"^^ ventic«. BainbriS^*,.:^^^ J^«c inter- tanly he glanced at ri^- ^ . ^ that mvolun- like a lily o^^ staS^f ;.'^''^ '*^ ^^'^ ^"^ bowed witnesses ^th^iZjT """*^ *°^"'' '"^^ '^ ventional m^ of^^^ f ""^ maintained the con- stood with™^iltiTK*^/^^*°'- L-l'« was studyiiJIhTS^^J^"^ ^^ ""^y- ^ ^ ^^ GaUoway^^^^^.^-1 glass. Man. hands ^'*®- ''^^ f«« buried in her 312 "* THE LIFTED VEIL hearts Shan be disclosed, that if either erf v™. i™_ impediment, why ye rn^y Z lawSTh^-^J™''' ^^ in mtrimony ye do nj^^^ "^ ''^ '^'^^ Again Bainbridge elaneed i»,», *u ^ expectation at thewoi^^^r!, ^* ™^°^ J^' '^e. It ^ pV^r^JlS ^t «»°-' the"* to be his to take it the^S^^ihV w^f^Ters" K* ."^ would then be freTTseize^tteln^ tf^: "*■ ^"""^ hands-^en though tlTni^^^^'aS' ^ * ^*' an infusion of wormwood ^^ ^"^ ^ ^« rn^Jt'^rZ.l "ITl^: ^Clorinda made no to detach her wff^ ? *'^"^' ^« ^"'^ed him own.^Sc£ J^ diS h« arm and clasp it within his see thatX'wL wtr^lh'th^^r ^' ""' ^^ Se^2:£2Sa^ ----'' W as the rector^ tS^oT" ""^ °^ «»^« estate of mati^.l l^t^^ i:;^"ci;': T' honor and keen her ;», «,vi_ 7 ' comfort her, saking aaSsZ^^^f ^^ ^ ''^*: ^^ fori both Si^ Uver ^ ** "^^ '^*° ^«-' «> W as ye c^SS SSf^S^^ -^- ^^It that the of affirmation.^r^/'!^-^ "" «ceptional wannth ■^^cessesofthechS. '^ ^^S*" *^« I'oUow hu;'Srt'H:^'^^i^-J^ -an to thy wedded holy eslkt^.j!!?.*"^'*^"' ^"^ ^s ordinance in the "Wait." ^The word was whispered so^faintly that the old rector 3*3 THE LIFTED VEIL didn't hew it. He had already begun on the woM ^^ Jait. Somethmg's the matter. She'»-she's not "No'Z^nr T^ '!^« on Wm. as if about to faint. ^No.Im not weU." she whispered. "Imust-Imust sit «n?f T^"^ ^^ "^"^ ^'^^ ^«88i«' ^th a smothered exclamation, sprang forward, catching her as she S Between them they led her the few steps to the nS pew, where she sat down. p w uie nearest "Sen r^' '^'°P "^** "=^<=^'y reacherher I's inen we can go on. '^ "Leslie, run into the vestry and get a glass of water " ACaggie commanded. k -^ oi water, Leslie ran, and during the minutes of his absence Clonnda, supported by Maggie, endeavored to S^ without succeedmg. The rector had descended^e s^s ^d. prayer-book in hand, stood loolS^d^t the sufferer sympathetically. Mary Galloway iTl^ her pew, but made no attempt to come up the LT it once when there was need of her she held herself aloof , Its the hour, Maggie declared. "I said from the first that it was too ridiculously early " Clorinda murmured, faintly: "I shall be better soon Then we can go on again." ^^' iJ^' ^f ^ Leslie returned with the water and she had made the effort, she relapsed again, seeming for a sec^l or two about to lose consciousness. The effo^sT^ ^:i'^J^l:^L-\?^^: Tears -Itr^ i shoulder. 314 Lm very THE LIFTED VEIL We'extL^Sr^ "*-= "»«t it's What I o„^t ^ "•Id hand in his, imhliT^'^- ^^ *^^ ^^ ^P' the occasional lo^k otml^^^''°^ "^ ''^ -«^ S to make itself a smile ^^ ^nden^ess. which tried It was MaggirJhoti^'j^'^^t^ed toward him. got to be put off. Here it i, T ^'^ '^^°''°"- "It's she's not able to stand uTyet I^/J^' "'"^"^ ^^ eight was absurd. Doctor cln ^™ ^^^ ^t that hcmse later in the ^Tlb.TZ''^'} '^'^^ «P to the But later in the dartt,Z. '^^'^ there." rinda was confine^^f^;''^-- opportunity. Clo- ^e no one but Mag^e wL^ • '''^ '^' »"! ^''""gh she nothing in the natuiTo" ^Tl ?^' *h«^ had been gray head and thr^™"! t^^ ^ '*«'k his shaggy » that case her^StS S^^t^" ""' "^^^^^ So Shrove Tuesday p2ed3 1 ^ «=oounted for. and Lent began, and Eri^^.f "^^"^^^^P^-ed. «^as nothing to go awavfo^ t Z 1 ^° ^^^y- Th"* about his work. wlS^l/"'^' ^" ^^«* "J'^^'y ">e day when he ^aTiable'^r'' ^f "^*^^ ^- he could do so aU was of n^ll k"^ ^'°""''^- Till veil was not only den^K*^^™^ to him. The and confusing about his feet H^^'m ^^ entangling but his obvious dutie^^^^;««"d to nothing y^jj^ vo, autrceiy darmg so much as to 31$ J THE LIFTEO VEIL nuS^.^Sr;^,^^^'- - House. «.d '■I've ^e :Z^, rl ""7^ "^"^ *« Him. that she'd rather ha. J Kr^«,.„ ' "« «^ «« ^d GaUoway she has Well » Ga"°way; and so Mary thelastJers^ntofot^lj^rr^V'^^*^'*' I^ thought ^see^lT^ ^" f*"** ^ "> n°t wanted. I 1-iiesh.Sdg^Shtt^u'H "? ' ^^^''^'^^ «-; The Lord knoiri c5^ ,"^"^ ^^ 8*^" her away, things Th7,d^ of t^ care-^cept for the look of No wondl'tl^Jbl': Si^.'^u'r'^ "^ «-^ It was only irc^Zt^^ ^ *^' "^^ °^ '*'' Bainbridge got anv^ J^ f f "^^y- therefore, that As far af he't^ob^^Ilt^' "T ^ ^"^ "«'- into that meS^ S,?'T?'f.*° Have relapsed Had noticed in h^ dZ? -"^ *"'' ^«^* ''Hich he ^e flitted frc^ th7:S°^^H'°^ ^"^^ «« ^^^ church to CloriaS'S^^n . "'"^ ^-^ ^"»" the ««ly got a zZZ'o,1t^Z\7SaT' *"* ""^ to lus questions had Uttle variety ^' ''"' ^°^^ he able to see any one^t «^e n '.^'' ''^^ "^^'U «=an't talk auchlv^^tti? "rr^"" ^°' *« <«ly in a geneialT^as to hn! ^ ^"^ ^°^- »«* a« doing and thj^^rt ^ .\ ^°" ^ ^"^ *Hat you after hov^Z^nirtU^S^ ^f' ^"* *^«^ f"' Hour ^„ ""^^'^Hes there and doesn't say anything at ;;Do«^she ever speak of Malcolm Giant?" 3i6 THE LIFTED VEIL On one occasion he asked the question. "What's reaUy the matter with hetweaHyf" She began to move away from him. " Doctor Rinfr«,l insists that she's had a shock." ^^ *^ "But what shock can she have had'" She shook her head and said nothing riJ aI ^^''"8 "^^ ^^^■" she said, hur- riedly, adding over her shoulder as she left him "Sh^s "ZtTT^'^' -^^^ ''-^ ' haven't ridea" rf^T S?"bnd8e brooded over the suspicion as he won- dered and prayed and worked. He looked hagga^ Z to trouble hrni. Was he still engaged toTer? S he be said to be married to her.' ThL was oTcoi^t^ 2 ^^^ V"* '^^ "^ -^y P-ounc^ "I ^ k™ 7' ';'""^''- ^'"'^ ^^ had gone so far. was ^e bound m honoi^was he bound in honoi^to go^ S- L^ rr°"^ ^ ^ ^ cimimstances would ^w" Or had all his romance faded into unreality and mJh. «ity with aorinda's withdi^wal il"'^ ^^^ It was with some thought of this heartbreaking nos- «bdity that he said one day to Doctor gSKJ ^ t seemed adv^ble. <»uld I have leave of a^en" togo ov. to France for a few months to s« whaT^ r^^Tw ''^L^P ^ ^"^^ ^ *he closet appn^ pnated to his vestments, saying as he did so. "0^^ what capacity?" h«S? M*^?' 7''° was in his street clothes, stood by the h^e table laden with books and registei^ that held the center of the vestiy. "I was thinking of work as am- 317 THE LIFTED VEIL hnny." — provioed you don't take it in , oWig^ to take thTit?^thX:!,'=^T«-* -«■- Mistake. Bainbridge. AH tLT , ^^ ^tervene. to those who will fet Z^ Ti7T 'T""^ '"' «°«1 '"se thing for you to go^ver to pt" " r^' *° ^ « obvious." There was a te^Z *°/'^'f " ^ become voice as he added "D^n't ^^f '" ^^^ asthmatic old Bainbridge refl«:tS^ J 1'^^* '' ^^ i' d°es." at last. "Is it w?rki^ tShfr Jr.°' ^'^^ " '^^ ^«> "It is-in the Jr" .w . ^"'■^^PP'ness.?" thing. ItWr^^Xfide^^^^*-^^ *^ ^^^ high ness to say that hap^L S^^J ^^- * °^ ^t">tioul conditions tnake oP^- . T*^'"*'' *''«*» what Buddha-like featui^^h^^f^; dawned °^^ the «>ding to a book for inl *^° "^y- "A happy the hen> andS^lnl L^^d T* *' "''^"^ ^'^ that in which th^-rT^ T ^^' ^ ^°^ time; it's downward. ThebLn/l • !■ "^ '"=tead of going THE LIFTED VEIL wrestang with a great experience." J^^l-^°",f'^ '^^''^^ « ^W" there was a nrfer«^ce to himself; but if so it was the nearest the old Tnw^ T" n. ''■ ^°^ ^ '^^ he asked, castluT mZZ 5i";,^'^"^«=«-«?" but he paid little Tno Kr*!, i *'l!^- B^"bridge wondered if he tnrough. or so much as cared ^^^ spSr^r m'I"^ ^* *** Bainbridge come to actual Th w^ /' '"'**"'«' ''here war was the topic and both were frequenUy speaken,. While it could^ be said that they avoided each other, as L^iTand hi JilL^H^ t?^-„ Bainbridge had not noticed that he looked older hm^f , but he did notice it in the case of hL nval. Day by day the lines of his face appeared to be S^ ~*' ,:!:!'' "''"' '^^ ^ fleshliness SnilS steaday yidded to some fonn of i«ier struggle. ^ bndge did him the Justice to think that the'^conflirtl, that quarter was not less x-iolent than in his own But they met quite accidentally at the comer of a street ^dmg from Fifth Avenue. They were on their ^yl^ d^wmg-room meeting at which Grant was to stir sym! pathy by reading some of his letters fn»n the fi^ Itwa* m days when the sharing of such interests was stiD tnfrr 'ir^ "ecessary to walk the few hundred yarfs tog^er. they managed to do so without a too S embanassment^ It was when the fh^ commonpla^ had been passed that Grant surprised the younger^ with the simple question, "How is M,,. Gildei^eeve?" 3^9 IIH 1- H ■■': ■t THE LIFTED VEIL ba««et said. XupUy ^'^' * "**'«' '^««- ««« ^The natural ^nquny was. "InadverJu^ .h^t Bainbridge stopped in his wait «^ft,.**u "vZl ,V'*^^^™^^*>°n''as just audible. mind that you deserved hT r • " °^^ «P ""^ I only went^o ^VS„ h^ft^^ T """^ *^* and tell her that." ^ "" °"«^ '^^ « tnAe of a present- "And she fainted?" la^^^ilalk^.^r'Tj^^^T'^-'^^o-the whole thingTtte nrin;,- ,^°",^'^ ^hat you'd leave the whichever of^^L 2? 1 "^^'^ ^"^ wn,ng-and Wen. r thoulhTlTas^tr "^'^^ "°^'' ^^* ''*• 3>o THE LIFTED VEIL the dergyman's shoulder, he looked down into his eyes with a smile. "You've been a corker, old chap—" "Yes, but why should she faint?" ^ He removed his hand, his face growing grave again. "Before God, old man, I don't know. She followed me easily enough while I was sizing you up and saying what a good un you'd been— what?— ^d then all at once— when we were talking of the afternoon you and she came in and found me waiting— you remember!— and I was saying how magnificently you'd risen to that— when you'd never known— what?— and of course I couldn't help re- ferring to the circumstances of three and four years ago —but I did it deUcately— the way she likes— well, all I can say is that she just toppled over like a rag— like a dead woman— and if I hadn't caught her she'd have tum- bled off the chair. Luckily there was a bell within reach, and when I'd pressed it that little Pansy girl— the pretty one— came running in, and acted hke a brick. She knew what to do— and brought her round— but— but— I had to make myself scarce, of course. Since then I haven't— " For lack of anything more to say they walked on again in silence. Bainbridge was again struggling with him- self. All his nerve had been strained to keep from shcut- ing "You fool!" in the face of this good fellow who had thought he was doing him a service. Something, he felt, he must say— something that would relieve his excite- ment and show this blunderer tixc harm he had done unwit- tingly. K the fact that it was unwitting might be pleaded as an excuse, it was also a reason for plain speaking. He was actually phrasing a sentence that would not only be neat and courteous, but would also tell this great simpleton something he would never forget — ^when he remembered. 331 THE LIFTED VEIL had been of ^^^ilSce^^S.', '^.*"' '"^ case, too; and so thev »«^* Probably of God in this breaking it. "^"^^""''^tothedoorwithw? CHAPTER XXII y HUS Malcolm Grant never knew what he had done * nor did Bambridge ever refer to it. He had one secret the more to keep, and that was aU. He made nc maition of it even when Clorinda sent for him and all the veils were lifted. That was a morning in April, when he had not seen her for nearly two months. He found her changed, emaci- ated, with some of her beauty gone. In her indefinable chann she had gamed, however, as well as in that air of s^w and mystery that had at all times hung about her like a magic cloak. She was ^ seated, half reclining, in a long chair near the window of an up-stairs sitting-room on the third floor-a fauy garden of flowered chintz. Bowls of daf- fodils and tuhps stood about, and the sunshine was not so not as to need tempering. She allowed him to kiss her hand, though waving him away with a slight gesture when he attempted to repeat the homage on her Ups. By methods so deUcate andso deft as to defy his power of analysis she managed to ««ivey to hun the impression that they met on a new foot- ing. He noticed that she no longer wore the ring he had ^"^ ^■2°' ^^ ^^ ^ wedding-ring, though this he could attribute to the fact that her fin^ had grown » thm that even the gold band was loose on it. The aerial effect of her laces and tissues and gauzes, 3*3 THE LIFTED VEIL ^tL^ 'Tt^ ''"** *° '^^ «»d from lilac to pale questian?ie aZi 1^ w ' ''''"" ^' '^ "^^ ^ Sved t; £Sf hi Stir' °""*^ ^*"' "'^* telling her atteahon was not on what he was ::Butnot.enSr.^^2^-^t^w^- Uh, IS one ever well mentallv? T n»™- t, u thoueh as I irv,i, k.„i. .."'™'*"yf ^ never have been— ujuugn, as 1 look back it seems to me as if t t,„A v keeps them from makiag them?'^^ ^stakes, and that 3*4 THE LIFTED VEIL "Let us come to that later. I'm more interested in the question I've put than in anything else in the worid. All through these weeks when I've been lying here as if I was thinking of nothing at alli've been turning it over. Are people ever held back from doing things that would injure either themselves or some one else?" He tried to tear his mind away from the image of weak- ness and wistfulness, of loveliness and seductiveness, on which he felt his eyes couldn't rest eagerly enough, to give himself to the subject she had raised. "What sort of people?" he found himself able to inquire. "Oh, people who want to do right— not good people," she corrected, "but people who haven't been good, and are only trying— and longing. ' ' "Doesn't that hark back to the question as to whether there's a power working in us and through us, with a pur- pose and a love— or whether we're just splashing about on our own?" "I suppose it does. But which is it?" "Which do you think?" "I don't want to think. I wan^ you to tell me." "And I'm not going to, for the reason that it wouldn't do any good. Whatlbdievewon't beof anyhelptoyou; and nothing will he but what you work out for yourself." She rested awhile silently, saying at last, without looking up at him, "And suppose I worked out that on that morning when we— when we went to the church there was a power— working in us and through us— with a purpose and a love— that kept us from doing what we went there to do?" "You'd have to go farther back. You'd have to in- quire why that power should have led us to the church in the first place — " 325 H I t HI THE LIFTED VEIL "But did it?" "But didn't it?" not directly but Wirt vf ^ '""'""^ ** ^"^ n*^- cy«^;; tfrjT ? '*''''"'' "8"^ °f her p„,found that aften^oon I never ^^"H^^l ''^ *° y- sho^d l^eS;."°^'-^ ^"^^ ^^« ^°'-- ''- I Jhe aJlowed her hand to i«nain in his when he had S?if" it whosoever loveth T^„?^i^'''* " "^ God; and That strikes me « ^.JT °*^ ^"^ >°«^«th God^ ^hnplifies somT^g";?^ ^^^"^^ ^ "^ ^t ficult. if not imposlbr-^ «««tomed to think of a, k toJ'^iS^SirdtS^'^r^^'ovin.we-.in feel that He's unknowaWr^C''^? '^''^ «> likely to She nodded ^^m ^^"""^ °" ««*•" mUy knew aboutlS fo^ ZTl^l *^«, "^^^ ^^ I vwy little. I hadn't vmll^itl 7 T^ ^"^ ^ "^ew and its beauty. You'^^ ^^^ '^ '*^ depth hand.^g^/CT^y7^t." Shetoorhis that's a great deal for a^Zn tn^T L^ *'^ *^t could never say any m^r^^Zl^-Tftt''^^ "«^ «w say more." she hi^^ ! ^, '»"'*• But I ^P«ak. "I'm goiTtoTTto JT'.r*,""°^^ »^ to P«cti«^to %^Z ZSyZl^^^ "^ '°- -*o bemg-just as you do O, •"!! tow^ every human her eyes fiUed with teare Ih'e hT^ 7"* ^^ " ""'e. demand you don't unSi^^ w^tis r""^'' "'"* ' rhj^yc^'Ubesurethat-ThtrStt^^^^^ --ti^^"::o!°rtnirj"^^-^^— 33° THE LIFTED VEIL " Ym, toward you, too— toward you more than any ona — in its way." "But in what way?" "In the way of a great gratitude and devotion." She laid her other hand on his. "WiU you promise me to believe that?" "But why should I promise yott-*hea we're always going to be together?" " Promise me, all the same." "You know I can't but promise anything you ask." "Thank you," she smiled. "I shall only ask you this; and this I shaU beg you never to forget." She withdrew her hand from his, lying back with eyes closed. "I'm very tirdd," she murmured. "Would you mind saying good-by to me now—?" "But, Clorinda, I've only come!" " They won't let me talk long yet. Besides— I have to keep my strength for— for something I've got to do later in the day. Ill— I'll communicate— with you— soon again. In the mean while— kiss me— and go." She was still lying with closed eyes when he raised him- self from the long kiss on her lips, and stood up. "Clo- rinda," he said, hoarsely, as he looked down on her, "I'm afraid of you. I don't know what you mean— or what you intend to do— but I want you to know what / mean —and what / intend. I intend to many you. I mean that nothing shall ever come between us. I've said solemnly— before witnesses--that I took you as my wife. You very nearly said that you took me as your husband. I'm coming back for the completion of that vow. I shall come to-morrow. Doctor Galloway will come with me— and we'll have the service here. It will give you no trouble. You needn't so much as stand up. But— I'm ccming." 331 THE LIFTED VEIL ir^r^-* for one „L W^C^hT^^^.S «^«L!'S.'^ •" ^* ''•^^ *^<«y. "- I ten you Though he was staggering along with u^ w a- him-he hardly knew for wLt-^fe ^Tj^ ^^ ^ mind to this new demand 'S^ V^ What is it?" vnanana. Certainly, Pansy, The girl Uushed and grew consdous "Tf. .»„ . about Mr. Hindmarsh, sir." ^*^**"- «» about- " Isn't he kind to you?" ^h 3^. sir; he's lovely. He's-he's asked me t<^to do«rhe^^"^*^"'^^"«'* his attention. "But _^d what has he said to that?" acJSt^oSt^p^lJlS'r,^* ^^°— <^ that it's on •n--o that noEj w^? hL^tr ° ^^'i."" °^ <■ A_j . ,, J? '' ""Ppen to me agam «^ I was to be an the more sure that I was in love with "And are you?" 33a THE LIFTED VEIL Pto«y'« bosom sweUed. "I don't care whether I «n or not. If he feels that way about me—" ClUnlT" '^fri ^" ' '^'^ *° "^"'^ "^ enigniatical in Uonnda. And have you told that to Mis. Gader- sleeve, too? "Yes, sir; and she says I ought to be suns I know the oiHerence between love and thankftUness." ''^d-«nd does she say there's much difiEerence?" She says there is-when it's any one like-like me. She says the kinder he is the more I ought to consider lum; and that to marry him without loving him with aU my heart d be the worst harm I could do him." "But if he's in love n-ith you!" "That's what / say. But she says it 'd make it worse, because when a girl has once gone wrong, like-all she's got eft to give is her undivided heart-that if she hasn't got that she hasn't got nothing^-and if I was to turn him down he d get over it and marry some one who'd be better for hmi in the end." "And do you want me to advise you what to do'" To his surprise Pansy said: "No, sir," quite conclu- sively nodding her little head, sagely. "I'm going to take hmi. If I didn't-I might never get such a good chance again. Mrs. Gildersleeve says she won't put no obstacle m my way-only that if it was her-«he'd give the m^ her very best-or else she wouldn't do him the narm of taking him at all." Bainbridge was not sure of the meaning of Pansy's httle sob, nor could he stop longer to inquire. He was thinking of the undivided heart, being sui« that thp ex- pression was Clorinda's own. It was an additional incentive, if he needed any, for taking Doctor Galloway mto his confidence and making those artangementJ= for 333 THE LIFTED VEIL ^ef^ day of whid. he h«l .h««,y «^,^ ^ He was ,^;!±!!f^""*--^when: of the day "^uaaua mio tne news items mechanical. He laid the^^d„!f ^ ""^ ^^^ n,«™» tr T^' * '*^' «* tmiling thine of > you've heard. "Oh, but it isn't sol" 334 THE LIFTED VEIL ■'I'm afraid I must teU you that it is. She sent for me last ev«ung-^y an hour or so before they ^t to the a^th'^^^tr*'^". ^'»<'^''eas%r^Lrbl^ D ^" L happened m the afternoon " ••n^*.^'^ ^ ^ ^8^^ ^^ ^^ and cried out Oh, but how could she?" ' ' They continued to stand, while she did her fc«t t« «cplam "Qorinda wanted me to t^^ SaShS ^e d,d it be^use-because she c»uldn1 h"^ it Ev^ thmg made het-first becaus^-oh, you mustXe^TZ. bemuse she'd always b.^ in love ^th h^JTy^ and there were misunde«tanding<=-anrshe'd sw^rn IZ'J' T^ ''^'^ever! ... Only when she ° w W near she came to marrying you-4nd doinrycTI g^deal «f hann-^nd spoiling yo^ work-Jd ^^ hfe-^e sent for him and told him " Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he panted between his clenched teeth, "Go on." oetween ^^he wanted you to understand that it was for your ke^ft"^^*^"""^ °^ "•" inarticulate sound he made Jcept It from bemg qwte a groan. "She knew she could never have been to you the wife ^en s had been r^ht-that everything was a£t t- things, so she said, that you knew about ^Tttat I didn't undei^d-just a^^ust as J^lZ^)^ fte other thing." Her Kp ti^nbledShT^rw^ ftdl of compassion as she gazed up at him. "7c^^^^ he jh;::* ""^ 'r "^^ "^^ ^^ '^ monthix* he^^jhe man sh^^e really loved-loved that way. 335 THE LIFTED VEIL He flung out his hands. "Then why didn't you?" Bemuse you seemed to know it yourself. That eve- mngj-before you were to have been mairied-you prac- tically said so." ' ^ "But don't you know that we all «»nt«dict ourselves? ^^ .. u*^T '* "^ *° '^^^ y^ contradict mer That s what I thought; only that it seemed to me- too late. I couldn't think of anything to do but let you go on-and put the best Ught on it possible." She tried ^1 "^f^* ^°"- ^'^^ ^^-^y ^ ^ that ^V. I here are two ways— and one way--" "Makes people marry," he declared, with a kind of savagery whUe the other turns mairiage into a sacrilege " y«, that s It You do understand. You remember my teUing you that she once said you wer^were too LJtJ^^ ^^ wonderfuUy-in things I don't ^T.^r^.^^^T^^ ^^ ^"'* '^'^ S^titude toward you that she didn't know it fn»n love. She thought she ought to many you, if you wanted to many her. She said that she couldn't .««^^speciaUy with the other thing --the real thmg-^f UuU kind-«, mixed up and^ tangled-^d with her own hard feeling toward Malcolm Graat-which was reaUy a phase of lov^-about some- ttmg she s never told me. ... And thei^when she was ^y m the church that day-with a tot of things dear to h«- that had been dark before that-she said tt ^ like the Mtmg of a veilu- WeU. you know what happened— and the poor thing couldn't help it " He dtopp«i into a chair. With anns folded on a table, he Stared wjth head erect into the distance, seeing noth- m, hJs hps compressed. Timidly she drew near him 336 THE LIFTED VEIL standing partly behind him. and summoning all her courage to say: «telH^*^« aU there is to teU you. You do under- stand. T^eaffinnative nod of his head encouraged her to go on. You— you understand everything, and so I neednt say how hard this has been for me-" As he rajsed his head to fling her a backward look she drew a httle more behmd him. leaning over his shoulder to lay somethmg on the table in front of him. "She asked me to give you this." For long minutes he leaned on his folded anns. gazing at the envelope on which his own name was written, but making no effort to open it. When he did so it was slowly, and as if in a dream. TTiwe was .xo formal beginning and no signature. It reminded hrni of the writing Malcolm Grant had brought to hun two years before. ^J^ t^u-^ "^^ I want you to remember that I am dmng everythmg forlove-^ you taught me. You may Z ^rt more gentty, so as to give you less surprise and pain, be- ^ you would never have pemiitted it. Believe ^I ^ tato« tie on^y way. the way that wiU be best in the end fo; us aU. ^mU hve to see that; and if! make you suffer now. the day wS oomew.henyouw:UknowhowrightIam-andfoitfveme. When Ma^wUlteU you everything else. She wiU always teX to give you nevra of me. Ask her sometimes. She wiU give n» ne^ of you. too. We shaU not be altogether separated^sTC as we have her as a bond between us. It ^ through h Burt Camtwny'. Popular Copyri At Rdfa, A Mm'. MSTfly lil^„"i?™" B"*"""- a™ Boyi B^i,,«^/>S'a"Se^'"°'"^'°" Davi,... Around Old Cheiter n„ »? ' "oP^'nson Smith. A?Si\£4? W. Ch^aJTbc'rf "' ^"^"'"'^ Aw.k.„fa, of H.taJ^chil^SJI',?i,^»'i-, D,u„j BSbi«.^*h^"i°"«, ^''"°," Cooke. Beltane the Smith. Bv T,.ff.™ w •'•, ^ocke. Be«irh."?s,.is:) X%':izirr.^ ^^-y- «■« 1, White. By George Barr McCut«4eofc Popular Copyright Noveb AT MODERATE PRICES A. L Burt CompMy'.P«yuh, Copyright R etina Broad Htel^, tS R„ ? Cyru.Towii.end Bnidy. «_?^ i«»» UMithter. By io.«ph C. Lincoln. «-. X.incoln. E±^:!rs "::&£.' Comin, of^SrtS^^V^ l//;'""'"«y C. Hotchld.*. Conquest of CaiuuiL The n„ n !"i.'^ Seltzer. CooMd/or th« D.f«.«. By•L„oy^*°J«"• |HS»r??k^B%<^'fe'£t?n<'• g?»f„ *;?™?- By Eleanor H. Porter ^MS;-^^:^^ii•J^,H.^Va■,er. By Popular Copyright Novels AT MODERATE PRICES A. u Burt Company. Popiihr Cop wight Rrfjna ayw of th« World. Thiu By Harold Bell Wright, Cook. "*°^ '^^ By Marjorie Bentoa S^r?~"S;. By R« Beach. Oold Bac The. By Carolyn WeUa. I Popular 0)pynght Noveb I AT MODERATE PRICES ^ Your DmIw lor aConplitoLbtai f A. U Burt Compmy't Popuhr Copyrigbt Fldiaii Wj" S'PP^T1*„ By Ann. Katharine Green, gojjw W«b, tto. By Anthony Partridge Oordon Craic. By Randall Pafriih. £!S?.*^»u?'**'l'"'J*"- By Frank L. tovfrtan Bobby. By Eleanor Xtkinion. Oueiu of Herculei. Ttu. By C N. * A. M. Packard. Williamion. Halcyon*. By Elinor Glyn. gaart of tlw HUli, The. By John Fox. Ir Heart of Thoodar Moontaia. Th*. Bv Elfrirf A Rit..!.... hS»-- llffiL^"^ ^2 '^°- B- McCntcheon. Hiddm Ciildrw, The By Robert W. Chamber!. h2^^^?"°15"'' V"-^.^' Ka«« «"<» Virgil D. BoylM. w!'*^.'V^V'^.^«- By Grace S. Ridunood. SSiJ"n^9 ByAuguitaJ. Eyani. "™»* » «*•• «By Augusta Evans Wilson. feii^f «?7" ^""f By John Reed Scott t?^?°'yA. ?.y iL""" Katharine GreST^ InAnothwCfcraShoee By Berta Ruck. Inner Law, The. By Will H. Harben. Innocent. By Marie Corelli. Inaidiona Dr. Fn-Maachn. The. Bv Sax R«l»