A WAVE OF LIFE Copyright 1909 by Mitchell Kennerley JUj . (9J A WAVE OF LIFE A novel by CLYDE FITCH Copyright 1891 by Mitchell Kcnncrlcy 'Publishers' note as later to use with such effect in his dramas. Clyde Fitch: A Tribute THHE genius of friendship is given to few; it is the genial outpouring of the best in per- sonality after passing through the fires of reti- cence. I say "fires," for it is the nature of such a character to give and not to withhold the best; I say "reticence," for friendship comes only when casual interest grows into a desire to serve, when knowledge deepens into spiritual understanding. It was this genius which dominated in Clyde Fitch, the friend. One cannot determine the mean- ing of personality. I use his own words in a letter where he declared it to be "something which is what the scent is to the flower," and he added, with his usual good will and bountiful bestowal of warm enthusiasm, "God bless the personal equa- tion !" His friendship meant sympathetic response, generous participation, a naive desire to share, and a strong intentness to understand. He had the impulsiveness of never-dying youth, but be- neath it the surety of calm judgment. One could not be artificial in his presence; the charm of his friendship lay in its perfect ease; there was no room for embarrassment, whatever the mission. Even in his business relations there was no taint of success in his manner, no v 2041567 CLYDE FITCH: A TRIBUTE superiority of accomplishment in his speech. His contact was magnetic. Such a personality stamps the little acts of life as well as the vital moments ; it has the flexibility to respond to the smallest detail of environment; it never has to be watchful or considerate, since its nature is to be so. In consequence, everything Clyde Fitch did was redolent of his spirit. His manhood was enriched by a sentiment of which he was not ashamed. It was peculiarly excellent that he was never un-loyal to himself; he never disowned his early literary work. After leaving Amherst, he wrote "The Knighting of the Twins," a sheaf of child-studies, exquisitely tender in ap- preciation and delicate in humor. This love for youth deepened in later years, and in his plays one finds the elusive shadow of his "dream chil- dren." His genius of friendship shone in the joy of giving pleasure to others; he gauged you as he expected you to gauge him. This was one of the privileges of his intimacy that you and he were to mingle your habits and not to sacrifice the essential duties of the day. Nothing was forced about his entertainment; it was not thrust upon you ; you just felt that you were being taken care of. Here again was evident that ease which is courtesy gilded by grace and love what I want always to remember as the lyric strain in the character of Clyde Fitch. Emerson speaks of the radiance of personality. A day with Clyde Fitch was filled with this indefina- vi CLYDE FITCH: A TRIBUTE ble quality ; he was at the same time the life of his circle and the gracious listener. There was nothing obtrusive in his vivacity, there was noth- ing domineering in his leadership; he was one with you in the spirit of a comrade. To be near him made you alert; you were called to note the sunlight on a bird's wing, to see a blossom that had burst into bloom since last evening, and just before retiring to drink in the quiet of the stars. This man of city life never forgot the presence of fundamental things. Maeterlinck's advice to old age is : "Cultivate a garden." But here was one in his prime whose days were full and busy with the demands of worldly success, yet whose spiritual vision was constant. The hours were rich with incident, spent in the presence of Clyde Fitch: he had a human way of reading his mail; each morning requests would come in from all quarters a young playwright to be encouraged, an actor railing against fate, a journalist seeking an interview, columns of press notices, and contracts. He was never hasty, but always quick in the despatch of business ; a slight expression in a letter would stop him. I have seen him ask some applicant to call simply because of the unaffected humor in his request. He possessed the poetic response to all things fair, even in the minor walks of life. I remember his meeting an old countryman on the road, with a flower in his apology for a buttonhole. A thrill of enthusiasm shot through him. You may say the instinct of the dramatist sensed the domestic vii CLYDE FITCH: A TRIBUTE comedy here, but in his exclamation lay part of his wholesome philosophy. "Behind that flower," he said, "is love." In the day's work he gave special care to the animals around him ; his boyish energy never tired training his pet dog "in the social amenities of life," as he would describe it. Even here his concern was human. I once mentioned to him Maeterlinck's essay in which he claimed that the dog was the only living creature that had found its God. He had not read this, but the flash of philosophy took hold of him throughout the day. I simply hint at the personality of the man; now that he is gone, his presence is immanent be- cause of the radiance he has left behind. This constituted the rare quality of Clyde Fitch as a friend. In his last illness he was attended by a friend ; his eyes closed amidst friends he was making through the quiet patience and calm acceptance born of something deeper than character end be- yond the mere formal expression of religion. The nuns of Chalons-sur-Marne, deprived of the power of calling a Protestant minister to his side, knew that his own genius of friendship was sufficient consecration for his spirit. The immortal glory of character is the immortality of earthly love. If I write with sentiment, it is because his genius made me know the value of friendship. M. J. M. NEW YORK, October, 1909. VIII A WAVE OF LIFE "People of artistic instincts are being ruined by bric-a- brac, I think ; and that is why no stronger work is done." WM D'URBAN, in a private letter. A WAVE OF LIFE CHAPTER I IT was late in an October afternoon. An uncertain light came through two west- ern windows and fell softly here and there about the room in suggestive sympathy with the mood of a girl who stood before an open piano in the farther end. She was of medium height and slender. Her hair was a pale brown, curled wavingly in front and knotted loosely behind. Her complexion was somewhat that of a brunette, but lacked the high color which often blazes in a brunette's cheeks. Her features were nicely cut. Her mouth was nervous, not small, but lovely. Her eyes were large, blue, glorious. They were capable of expressing i A WAVE OF LIFE every emotion in an intensified degree. They were, indeed, the windows of her soul, win- dows which her temperament had painted with the myriad hues of her beauty and passion. She stood straight and graceful. A for- gotten music-rack was by her side, and a violin rested close beneath her chin. A thin, beautiful hand, with sinuous fingers, which seemed to tremble with a soul of their own shut in them, held the bow, and drew it back and forth in obedience to the musical vision of the player. Her head was bent caress- ingly over the violin, as one sees the young mother's o'er her babe in the old paintings. But her eyes were lifted with that look of seeing the unseeable which comes into some people's eyes. There was a half-sad smile upon her lips ; and a daring ray of the fast- setting sun moved lightly, glorifyingly, across her hair. A door was opened suddenly with some 2 CLYDE FITCH feminine commotion, and a tall, fashionably- dressed, well-preserved woman entered. The girl stopped playing, and turned irritably. "Oh, mamma," she said, smiling in a half- pettish way, "did you ever come in apropos- ly?" "I'm sorry, Madge, to be always putting you out, but I don't see how I can help it. You needn't have stopped playing." Madge raised her eyebrows. "Besides, I'm not in- terrupting you for myself." Mrs. Synnett was never known to have acknowledged doing anything for her own sake. "I only came in," she continued, looking deprecatingly at her daughter, "to tell you we were going to have company for dinner. I thought you would like to know in time to dress." "Company! I shall not come down, then. I'm sorry." "Now, Madge, why will you be so dis- 3 A WAVE OF LIFE obliging? I've asked the company for you and Rita. I really am discouraged. Won't you come when I ask you to?" "No, mamma dear, I shall not. You know how I hate it strange people to dinner, when we can't afford to entertain properly: I don't like to see people starve before my very eyes. Why do you keep on asking them? You need not count upon me. Be- sides, to-night I'm not in the mood." She took up her violin and commenced to play an exercise she had been practicing. "You'll ruin your eyes," said her mother, leaving the room only half vanquished. Madge glanced after her with a mingled look of love and criticism. A string snapped, and she laid the violin down, breaking the lily by her side from off its stem with her elbow. "Poor mamma, dear mamma," she mur- mured to herself, "she does not understand things ; she never will. I must find Rita." 4 CLYDE FITCH She met her sister in the hall. "Mamma's asked company to dinner," she said, "and we'll have to dress." "Oh, Madge, who is it?" "I don't know. I told mamma I wouldn't come downstairs; but I suppose I must." "Yes, of course; but I wish she hadn't asked any one. I don't feel a bit like com- pany, either." The two girls went upstairs to their rooms together. Rita hesitated at Madge's door, as if she wanted to say something; finally she ventured. She stepped into the room and put her arms around her sister's neck from behind and bent her head back. "Madge," she said, "tell me, are you going to marry Douglas Weldon?" "I don't know," Madge answered, look- ing her straight in the face. And then Rita left her and went to her own room, puzzled. When they came into the drawing-room 5 A WAVE OF LIFE they saw their mother talking to a strange gentleman at the farther end. "It's a man, and he is rather young," whispered Rita. "Some one we're to angle for, probably," answered Madge, who had a great scorn for her mother's innocent little match-making maneuvers. "I shall bait my hook with gall and vinegar." Mrs. Synnett came forward and present- ed her guest. Madge bowed and passed by him to the piano, where she looked over some of the music. Rita was more gracious, and started a conversation: this was her especial duty in the family, and one her certain charm of manner the ability to feel an interest in everything through her sympathy with peo- ple in general lent itself to with signal success. "Are you the Mr. Farnsworth? I am reading your book, if you are, and I'm not 6 CLYDE FITCH at all sure how it will end. I'm delighted to meet you." He was a rather tall, delicately-featured man, with sympathetic eyes, a small mous- tache, and wavy blond hair which was not close-cropped. He was conventionally dressed, but with an indescribable sugges- tion of the artistic temperament, which hinted rebellion against the narrow code of a man's costume. Perhaps this showed it- self in the color of his cravat, the composi- tion of his boutonniere, or the form of his scarf-pin. He was dignified, yet gesticu- lated while he talked, and used his hands gracefully and more freely than the ordinary modern man. His face lighted with pleasure at his new acquaintance's unaffected compliment. "I hope the end won't disappoint you," he said. "Does it end pleasantly?" she asked, and 7 A WAVE OF LIFE then added quickly: "Don't tell me; I'd rather not know till I come to it." "Well," he replied, "it ends naturally, at any rate." % No one spoke for a moment. Mrs. Syn- nett was fluttering uneasily about, like an indecisive butterfly. "How I wish I could write a novel !" Rita began. "I tried to several times, but I in- variably fell in love with my villains instead of my heroes, and my attempts were very bad. How do you write books? Does the story come to you all at once, or do you invent and change as you go along?" "I don't suppose," suggested Madge, breaking into the conversation, "that Mr. Farnsworth has met a single girl who has not asked him that question. Rita, why didn't you try to think of something original?" Before any one could answer, a maid stepped into the room and announced CLYDE FITCH "Mr. Weldon." Madge greeted the arrival with that per- fectly unaffected smile a girl has for the man she feels sure of. He seemed very much at home, and called the two younger women by their first names. He was a splendid big fellow, broad-chested, broad-shouldered, broad-minded, good-looking, level-headed, tender-hearted. He had still another quali- ty, which w r on general approval one which Mrs. Synnett did not forget. She told her daughters, when she first knew him, she had met a Mr. Weldon, who was so nice, and so rich. Mrs. Synnett led the way almost imme- diately into the dining-room with her usual apologies for informality, no other guests, and the various other things that occurred to her at the moment, the lack of any of which seemed in no wise to affect the peace or comfort of her guests. The Synnetts lived in one of those old 9 A WAVE OF LIFE Dutch houses one so frequently sees in New York, in West Twenty-second Street, be- tween Eighth and Ninth Avenues. That it was between these avenues, and not between Fifth and Sixth, was one of Mrs. Synnett's severest trials in life. Madge used to say Sixth Avenue was her mother's horizon line, and they lived on the wrong side of it. When Mr. Synnett died, long before the girls were grown, he left his widow this house, which his grandfather had built, and his life insur- ance. They lived in the former, and tried to live on the latter, and did very well, every- thing considered. They had the entree into the "best society" in town, they were met at exclusive dinner-tables always once or twice every winter, and appeared at a few of the Patriarchs and Assemblies in the course of the season; but their very limited income drew them somewhat out of the social swim. Madge said she grew tired herself of alternating two ball-dresses, only one of 10 CLYDE FITCH which was new, a whole year, even if other people weren't bored to death seeing her. They all had too much self-respect to take advantage of the wealth of those people who are willing to make stepping-stones of poor aristocrats to mount into a "higher set" than the one they belong to. Consequently their entertaining amounted to little more than an occasional small-and-early, which the girls called "cheap-and-hungry," and a "day at home." This was not enough for society; so the Synnetts had drifted into a somewhat bohemian clique, which Madge and Rita, if not their mother, found more satisfactory. Mr. Synnett, who had been a well-known amateur musician, had many friends who were especially interested in Madge's music, for it had the fire of genius in it. Bohemia and Bohemia is a good judge expected great things of her. Rita they loved, but it was not every one who could understand her extraordinary charm of being always simply ii A WAVE OF LIFE and unaffectedly delightful. She was per- fectly good, Madge said, without being "soft" which meant good without trying to be. Mrs. Synnett was decorative, and she amused people. Bohemia flocked to their "days," sipped their good Bohea, and nib- bled their sugary biscuits. Farnsworth talked to Rita during most of the dinner, drawing Mrs. Synnett and the others occasionally into the conversation, in a way that showed him a good diner-out and an easy guest a most comfortable thing to have at one's table. Rita, as she sat there, made him long to be an artist, just to be able to paint her. She had masses of bur- nished brown hair, which was caught up on the top of her head with an ivory comb. Her features were sufficiently irregular to license a difference of opinion as to whether she were beautiful or not; but her eyes were as lovely as her sister's, though different, and full of an ever-varying expression, and her 12 CLYDE FITCH well-shaped head was poised upon a perfect neck and rounded white shoulders. The conversation at the table was only now and then general. Madge and Weldon appeared to have acquired the ability of re- tiring verbally from the rest of the company, which did not, however, seem to offend any one, so Mrs. Synnett did not interfere: she was exceedingly anxious that it should make a match. She loved both of her daughters, and had really devoted her life to them, though not altogether with success, because she did not understand her children. Neither of them was at all like her. Madge she wor- shiped, and stood somewhat in awe of, for she had never been able to influence her in the least. She knew she was a girl capable of great passions, and a creature of strong impulses. Although failing in sympathy, she recognized the fact of her child's intense nature, with its strange changes and wealth of sentiment, and trembled for her future. 13 A WAVE OF LIFE She knew the dangers of a morbidly artistic temperament, and she knew this danger was so much the greater when the temperament was not held in control, but was pandered to as Madge's was. She thought with Douglas Weldon this future would be safe. Eventually, in the course of the dinner, Mrs. Synnett allowed Farnsworth to draw her into the conversation again, and re- mained there. She was a good talker, and a clever woman in her way. That is, she knew a good deal about music, and some- thing about pictures, and could impress most people with the belief that she knew more than she did about everything. She could discuss a book whether she had read it or not. She had not read Mr. Farnsworth's. "I hope we're to have another novel soon," she said. "Only wait till I have read this one," in- terpolated Rita gaily. "Why, my dear, haven't you finished it CLYDE FITCH yet? How could you leave it till you had?" She turned again to the young author: "How well you understand women!" "Isn't mamma clever!" whispered Madge. "She's not read a chapter in his book." "What! Oh, eh, yes," said Weldon, who had not heard what the others were talking about, but had been paying attention solely to Madge. Farnsworth was flattered. It always pleases a man to tell him he knows women. It's like complimenting some people on their appreciation of Botticelli or their under- standing of Wagner. "Thank you, Mrs. Synnett," he said ; "you know how to praise. You praise sympathet- ically." He never dreamed the woman had not read his book. "Most people praise too collectively," he added, turning to Miss Synnett. "Yes, mamma is a very good critic," vouched Rita. It was true, too, as far as A WAVE OF LIFE superficial criticism goes which is quite far enough in some books. "I don't know about that," said Mrs. Syn- nett; "but, since circumstances " "Over which we have no control," sug- gested Madge. "Madge, you're rude," Mrs. Synnett smilingly rebuked, and continued "since circumstances have obliged me to give up, to a great degree, a social life, I've devoted much of my time to books and music and art, and I ought to know something about them, unless I am hopelessly stupid." "The person who dared to call mamma stupid," said Madge, fairly in the conversa- tion now, as the finger-bowls were being placed about, "would do so in peril of his life, while knives are still used for fruit, and the memory of Lady Macbeth lives." "Don't you think Madge would make a good Lady Macbeth?" laughed Rita. "You know she always believed it was the tiger, 16 CLYDE FITCH and not the lady, that the barbaric princess chose." "And Rita," smiled Madge, "would, I am sure, have given her lover the lady and chosen the tiger for herself." "Our family is a mutual admiration society," said Mrs. Synnett. "I should like to apply for admission to the society," said Farnsworth, with some masculine coquetry in a look toward Rita. "We'll adopt you," she said, "for a brother. Won't we, Madge?" But Madge pretended not to hear. "He's a flirt," she thought. "I hate him." Madge's conclusions were always instantaneous, but they were not like the laws of the Medes and Persians; and, as with instantaneous photography, the negative could be so al- tered in her mental developing-room that you would not recognize the final impression from the first proof. The men refused to smoke, and all four A WAVE OF LIFE drifted into the music-room together. Rita seated herself on the piano-stool with the readiness of one who does not play, and Madge and Weldon slipped out of an open window for a stroll in the little garden. Mrs. Synnett followed the maid with the coffee-cups out of the room. Farnsworth stood leaning against the piano. He spoke to Rita: "Who is Mr. Weldon?" "Quite an old friend of ours. He is a young lawyer. I don't think he is exactly brilliant, but he is one of those splendid workers who always succeed, don't you know? Mamma is very fond of him." When a girl feels obliged to account for the status of a young man in the family, it always turns out to be a sentiment on the part of her mother. "Yes, I've heard of him from some friends of mine downtown. We were at the same college together; but I did not know him." CLYDE FITCH "Are you fond of music?" asked Rita, somewhat irrelevantly. "We all are, and Madge plays so well; you must hear her." "I care for music almost more than for my writing. I only gave up hopes of doing something in it because I felt I could not divide my energies and do justice to both ends. Bigamy is not successful often with the Muses: even Rossetti might have loved Art more if he had not wedded Poetry as well. Writing seemed to me to be the surer and the more remunerative of my two am- bitions : one has to take so many things into consideration, you know." And he smilingly slurred over his necessity. Mrs. Synnett joined them, and Madge and Weldon came back from their short walk. "Madge, play us something," begged her mother. "No, mamma, I can't to-night." "Do, Madge, won't you?" pleaded Rita. 19 A WAVE OF LIFE And all except Weldon tried to persuade her. She turned and looked them all straight in the face, with an odd little glance. "Don't ask me," she said, "for I won't; and I'm sorry to be disobliging." And she sat down in the window-seat, where Weldon joined her. Mrs. Synnett apologized for her: it was something Mrs. Synnett was quite used to doing. She said Madge had been practicing all the afternoon, and they ought not to have asked her. While she talked, Farnsworth watched the girl over in the window-seat. She cer- tainly was disagreeable, he thought, but nevertheless she attracted him. "Not a nice disposition," he said to himself, "but I'd wager anything on her playing. I wish she would play now; but she won't, I can see that. There's something strange about her. Perhaps it's her beauty, which is an un- usual type. I think the girl will have a 20 CLYDE FITCH history. I shall watch and see." He an- swered Mrs. Synnett in the affirmative, and she rattled on. His thoughts went back to the window-seat. "She'll make that man miserable if she marries him ; and I presume she will: the mother will manage that. He will bore her, although he loves her, proba- bly, like a dog, but his nature will never be able to supplement hers." "Would you write in our copy of your book," Mrs. Synnett asked, "if I sent for it? We are not autograph-fiends, but I think that when one knows the author it's interesting to have his writing in one's book. Signatures of people I care about have al- ways interested me." "Thanks," answered Farnsworth; "I will write with pleasure; but I'm going to take the liberty of sending Miss Synnett a copy to-morrow, to persuade her to finish the story, and I shall write in that." Mrs. Synnett looked pleased, and mur- 21 A WAVE OF LIFE mured something about that doing as well. The fact was, she was somewhat relieved: she might have had an awkward moment. The maid had brought the book, and she held it in her hand, but she had seen that the leaves of the last half had not been cut. Rita was delighted, and told him so frank- ly, as he started to say his adieux. "How do you decide on a denouement?" she asked. "I don't decide," he replied: "they are inevitable." "Come in informally whenever you feel like it," said Mrs. Synnett, cordially; "and we are always at home Sunday evening." As he left the house he was thinking of Rita. "She is like David's picture of Recamier," he said half aloud, "only nicer." In the drawing-room, after the door closed, Madge was the first to speak. "He's perfectly horrid," she said. "I don't ever wish to see him again." 22 CLYDE FITCH "Why, Madge," remonstrated Rita, "how dare you say so? I think he's delightful, and a genius. You can't judge; for you've been awfully rude all the evening. I won- der what he thought of you?" Madge shrugged her shoulders. "I can't imagine," she said. "He is sure that I am quite the most disagreeable girl he has ever met, partly because I wouldn't flirt with him, and partly because I was so frightfully impolite. And he is sure also that I cannot play a bit. He looked so bored when you asked me to." Weldon stood by with his hands in his pockets, and said nothing. He never criti- cized Madge, even in his thoughts. Besides, she had devoted her whole evening to him, and he had been happy and was content. He felt they were ready for him to go: so he said good-night, and strolled out down the street with a cigar Madge lit for him in the hall. 23 A WAVE OF LIFE "I'm going to bed," said Mrs. Synnett, putting out the lamps. "I'm tired. How nice Mr. Farnsworth is ! I wonder if he has made much money out of his book?" "It isn't likely," Madge answered. "Leave one lamp: I'm going to stay up awhile longer." "To play?" "Yes." ' Mrs. Synnett looked a mild rebuke, and then followed Rita out of the room. Rita took Farnsworth's book upstairs with her, and finished it before she went to bed. It ended sadly. She remembered Mr. Farns- worth had said the ending was inevitable. She arranged it so there was general happi- ness, and wondered why he could not have ended it that way. She did not see any rea- son why he could not have done so. She did not understand this inevitability of its end- ing the author's way. She wondered if he were really right, and, still questioning, she 24 CLYDE FITCH fell asleep. So we often try to resist the denouement of our lives, failing to under- stand the climax that the Author of our story has given us. So we too question, and fall asleep, sometimes, doubting if He is right. Madge, when she was left alone, replaced the broken string of her violin, and then laid it down on the piano. She saw the lily she had accidentally broken from the stem in the afternoon, lying crushed on the comer where Farnsworth had leaned his arm. She placed the poor bruised flower in the water in the top of the vase; then she sank down on the stool, dropping her elbows gently on the piano-keys with a soft discord. She was thinking hard on a subject which had occupied her mind more or less for some time lately, however, more trying to come to a decision on that one question over which nearly every woman that has lived has hesi- tated some time or other in her life. And 25 A WAVE OF LIFE Madge's decision involved more than the typical one, perhaps. Now, as she leaned, her face in her hands, over the keyboard, she asked herself again, for the hundredth time, should she marry Douglas Weldon? She loved him; she loved no one any bet- ter; she could not at that moment think of any one she loved so much. But once she had heard a man play on the violin who had influenced her in a different and a wonderful way who had caused her to forget herself in thinking of him. She thought of Weldon, on the contrary, only when she remembered herself. She had first idealized and then idolized this musician with whom she blindly felt in such close sympathy. She went to every concert at which he played. He ab- sorbed her days, and nights she dreamed of him, sleeping with his photograph, which she had purchased "for a friend" at the shop on Broadway, under her pillow. She fed on him in her mind and heart, until all her 26 CLYDE FITCH strength was consumed. She never met him, never spoke to him, and finally he returned to the foreign country he came from. Since, she had not even heard of him. Heavens! how long ago that seemed! It was eight years. She recalled it now, because she felt perhaps there was a possibility of her loving that way again some one she might know. She could never, never love Douglas so. She smiled as she thought to herself that Weldon would not like her to. He did not understand jealousy, and so completely ab- sorbing a passion would interfere with his law. Should she marry him, then, or should she wait for a man to come actually into her lif e, a man like that other who had only passed by, out of reach? Such a one might never come, and, if he did, would she be happy with him? (She changed her position, making another discord on the piano, which jarred upon her 8 and wrinkled her forehead.) Were 27 A WAVE OF LIFE two intense natures immeasurably sympa- thetic capable of living together in complete harmony? And if not, would not the love turn into as immeasurable a hate? With a man and a love like Weldon's, on the other hand, a quarrel would be more than atoned for in the very pleasure of "making up." Weldon could give her all those things in life she craved and which money alone could find. There need be no more economizing instead, luxuriating. That was it: there would be physical luxury, but would there be mental luxury? Would not life with a man who was not in sympathy with you, but followed you about like a dog, become tedious, commonplace, a long bore? She hated anything commonplace. To be bored, to her high-strung, nervous sensibilities, was martyrdom: she would almost rather be burned at the stake. But couldn't she bring herself into sympathy with him? The trou- ble was, she did not wish to. Then she did 28 CLYDE FITCH not love him enough to marry him. But suppose she did love him sufficiently, and then that, after she had married Douglas, some one else this other man should ap- pear. . . . She shuddered, and her lips grew hard and narrow. She stood up in the room and spoke aloud : "I can't decide! I can't! Things must drift." As sure as one drifts, one goes down the river to the rapids, or else out into the shore- less, bottomless sea. It is only when one works with the oar that one goes, against the current, up-stream to the source of all things. She took up her violin and played to re- lieve her thoughts. For a few moments the strains of music beat upon the air like waves that break on a sanded beach. Then she stopped, exhausted, and went into the library before going upstairs, and looked all about her for a book. "It was here before 29 A WAVE OF LIFE dinner. What's become of it?" she mur- mured, closing the door behind her. Rita had just read the finis, and had closed the book, and was thinking. CHAPTER II next morning Rita was in the A music-room, placing fresh flowers about, when a package came for her. She had just taken the faded lily out of the vase on the piano, and, with it still in her hand, she tore off the papers about Farnsworth's book. She turned quickly to the fly-leaf, and found there underneath his name a quatrain : This promised book To you I send: Give it a look, And me a friend. Rita smiled with pleasure, and spoke aloud to herself, as she turned over the leaves to- A WAVE OF LIFE ward the last chapter, with an undefined sort of feeling that perhaps in this, her volume, , it ended differently. She heard her mother calling her, and shut the book suddenly, with the withered lily between the leaves, and went to see what she was wanted for. When she came back Madge was prac- ticing. She wished to show her her quatrain, but Madge said she wouldn't be bored. "Rita," she asked, running down the scale, "do you like that man?" "Yes, I do, and better than most men the first time I see them." "I can tell you one thing" tightening a string "he's a flirt. You'd better be care- ful." "Madge, don't be absurd. I haven't seen the man but once. I hope you don't think I'm silly enough to fall in love with every agreeable man mamma asks to the house? You're like a professional gymnast, the way you jump at conclusions." 32 CLYDE FITCH "But you know, Rita, that you can't flirt: you're impossible at it." "Well, what if I can't? and suppose that we had known each other some time, and that I did care for him? what if he were a flirt? Plenty of people would tell Douglas Weldon that you were a flirt." "He wouldn't believe them if they did," replied Madge, picking a jig on her violin with her left hand. "Perhaps it would be better for him if he would," suggested Rita blandly. "That's just it, Rita just what I told you. You'd better give it up. You're too sweet." And she kissed her. "You can't argue about flirting: you don't know what you're talking about. Now I must practice ; I promised mamma I would, and I have a lesson to-morrow." Mrs. Synnett was in the library, reading Daudet's last novel in the original, with a 33 A WAVE OF LIFE pocket dictionary. She looked up when her daughter entered. "Rita," she said, "do you know anything about Madge and Douglas Weldon? Is she going to marry him?" "I don't know," answered Rita. "But he cannot be held off this way for- ever. He'll get tired of it." "Perhaps that is what Madge wants." "My dear Rita, how can you suggest such a thing? It would be madness for Madge to throw away such a chance. It's all very well for you to have your high ideals about love and marriage, but you know what Madge is. She will be a wretched woman if she can't have what she wants in the world. And if she can't love Douglas Weldon I don't know whom she can love. He would make a perfect husband." "Of course Madge will always have her music to fall back upon. I believe she is 34 CLYDE FITCH fonder of her violin than of any human being." "Dear me, Rita, you've picked up that idea from this bohemian set of your father's. Madge would starve on her music alone. You might as well talk of living by your short stories: I don't mean that they are not clever," she added rather quickly, fear- ing she had hurt her daughter's feelings "you know what I think of them but they aren't remunerative." "No, not very," and Rita smiled, "but perhaps some time I shall write a novel." "Well, I hope so, I'm sure," answered Mrs. Synnett in a not very encouraging voice. She was thinking of Madge again. "Douglas Weldon could give her every- thing she wished to make her happy." "Do you think he would make her happy?" said Rita. "As happy as any one could. I wish you had some influence with her. I haven't any. 35 A WAVE OF LIFE This affair worries me terribly. I want to do the best I can for my children, but some- times I think it's not appreciated," sighed Mrs. Synnett. "Mamma dear," remonstrated Rita coax- ingly, "you know we appreciate everything. You know " "Oh, I didn't mean you, dear. I didn't mean any one particularly." And she opened her novel and commenced to read. Rita looked about the room for something to occupy herself with. She picked up a guitar finally, one that had belonged to her mother when she was a young girl, and strummed an accompaniment to some softly- sung songs, among the cushions of a big corner-seat. It was an attractive room the walls hung with dark, large-figured cretonne, books all about, and a fine collection of Delft china on the mantel and chimney. Photographs were scattered everywhere interesting ones, 36 CLYDE FITCH many of them, of more or less famous people, and signed at the bottom. There were two pictures in the room, one a Sargent portrait of Mrs. Synnett, and the other one of Henner's nymphs, a small study. There was a large unframed copy, in photograph, of a Burne- Jones head on the mantel behind one of the Delft vases: this was Rita's. Madge, when she finished her practicing, found the other copy of Farnsworth's book, and took it up into her own room. Some days afterward Mrs. Synnett was looking for it in vain. She wanted really to read it. She began to like Mr. Farnsworth immensely, he was so perfectly congenial in every way, and she had noticed a certain especial attention to Rita. The two were often together. They en- joyed much the same pictures, and Rita was remarkably well read better than Farns- worth himself. They went to art exhibitions together, read and criticized books together, 37 A WAVE OF LIFE and they had not been friends longer than a month when he proposed reading to her some of the manuscript chapters of his forthcom- ing novel. Cyril Farnsworth was an orphan of very good family but little or no income, save from his pen, and a small legacy from his mother, which only helped him to live com- fortably. Living comfortably with him did not mean the same as with some men. It meant nice chambers, in no matter what part of town as long as they were decently lo- cated and convenient; a large study full of old tapestries, old stuffs, old furniture, pic- tures, brasses, antique silver, and the where- withal to add to these now and then, by won- derful bargains, which he knew how to make better than any one else. It meant fashion- able clothes, though not many, and it meant flowers to give away, to grow on his desk, and to wear in his buttonhole, even during a blizzard. He had never saved a penny, and 38 CLYDE FITCH probably never would; on the other hand, he was not in debt, and had never been, not even during his college days. In those airy years of free agency he had been president of the Dramatic Association, and chairman of the cotillon class, and editor of the Liter- ary Monthly till one term he fell head over heels into English literature, found a de- lightful professor there, and never really became free again. He had a host of friends, for all of whom he cared a great deal. He was unaffected and unconscious. He had too much sympa- thy for people, and was never found lacking a generous impulse. He did not know how to say "no," but he could say "yes" if he meant it or not, though he would hardly be called a liar. With the world he was world- ly; with his friends, or those acquaintances whom he liked, he was apt to be simply him- self. Like all people of his temperament, he was a man of moods, and he had found 39 A WAVE OF LIFE Rita Synnett in sympathy with all of them. He had gone to her unreasonably depressed, or foolishly elated, and left her invariably with his mind at rest in that medium of calm which does more for the busy brain than a cool night's sleep. He never failed to find her where he expected her, in judgment and in thought. She even discovered those faults in his work which in many cases he had felt to be unsatisfactory to himself, and almost unerringly phrased those especial passages over which he had smiled with a certain sense of pleasure as he wrote them. He had never been bored in Rita's presence. They talked or they were silent, it made no difference, either way he was happy with her. And she gave him that most delicate of all flattery to a man, a glad welcome whenever she saw him, even if he had only left her a few hours before. This was all the more forcible in comparison with her sister's manner. In 40 CLYDE FITCH fact, Madge seemed always to be leaving the room as he entered it. Madge interested and puzzled him. He could not help admiring her, in spite of her conspicuous disinclination for his society. He was obliged to confess that she was always handsome and at times strangely, indescribably beautiful, that she was exceed- ingly clever, and her wit brilliant, if some- times scathing. She was often unwarranta- bly rude, and often as unexpectedly kind. She was as extreme in the one as she was in the other. She shocked him and surprised him with delight alternately, until she fairly bewildered him, and on one occasion he went to her sister for an explanation. What Rita said was, "Oh, you must know Madge as we do, then you'll love her as we do; but you must not try to find a reason for what she does." He knew, before he heard her, that she would play well. But still when he heard A WAVE OF LIFE her he was surprised, and wondered, not at the perfection of her playing, but at the feeling she put in it, and the beauty of her method. His first hearing her was by acci- dent, for she had constantly refused to play before him. But one day, while waiting in the library for her sister, he heard the sound of a violin, and slipped in through the half- open door of the music-room. Madge had broken off in the middle of what she was practicing, as she often did, and was play- ing parts of a well-known mass. She was not a religious girl, but she had a great love for church music. She had moved from the piano and her rack, and stood with her side-face toward him. Her body swayed slightly in harmony with the modulation of the music, which was sorrowful and came with a minor wail that sank heavily into Farnsworth's heart, steeping his senses in a momentary melancholy for which he knew no other actual reason. When she stopped 42 CLYDE FITCH he came forward, but for a minute he felt unable to speak; and when Madge saw him she drew back, her eyes, on whose deep fringes there were tears, blazing suddenly. "Mr. Farnsworth," she said, "how dared you creep in and listen to me? You know I have always refused to play to you. You have taken a dishonorable advantage." And, as unconscious as he that she was in her dressing-gown, in which she had stolen downstairs in the middle of the afternoon, she swept indignantly past him, with the magnificent demeanor of an injured prima donna. It might have softened it a little for him if he had known she was putting the words of a poem of his to the music, but he did not know this, and that it was true only made her the more angry. Into Weldon's ear Madge poured every- thing: how much she detested Farnsworth, and how clever he was ! that she could not understand how Rita could see so much of 43 A WAVE OF LIFE him, but how very handsome he was, and what perfect manners he had! She contra- dicted this last after the music-room episode. She described his behavior then as that of a "beast," although during the same con- versation it was a week afterward she spoke of his great appreciation of music. She and Weldon had just come in from a walk. "Madge," he said, "it seems to me you're always talking about Farnsworth. I wish you'd talk about something else." Madge was nonplussed : she did not know how she had talked so much about him. She laughed. "Why, Douglas, are you jealous?" "No, not exactly that. I'm not the jeal- ous kind." "I know you're not. I wish you were. I can't understand a love without jealousy." "Then you don't understand mine?" "Oh, I understand yours as far as it goes" 44 CLYDE FITCH she laughed again, cynically "bwi it doesn't go far enough." Weldon liked to hear Madge talk in this way. She amused him, for he did not realize how much in earnest she was; and when sometimes she grew angry, he fairly wor- shiped her. She was grand in a rage, and he was not enough in sympathy to be afraid of her, and, besides, he never was afraid of anything. Only sometimes he was a trifle discouraged or impatient. He answered then "Madge, shall I never be able to satisfy you? Will you never learn to love me? What can I do to make you?" "Oh, Douglas, Douglas!" she said, smil- ing seriously; "in the first place, never ask a girl what you shall do to make her love you. You must do it of yourself, whatever it is." They were still standing, facing each 45 A WAVE OF LIFE other. She looked straight into his eyes and said "Why don't you give it up?" He gazed calmly back into those large, unfathomable, blue depths of hers without flinching. "I will never give up." And he meant it. He was determined to win her by his very constancy, if by nothing else. He was sure that would win her in time, for it would win him, and he could not rea- son any differently for her or for any one than he reasoned for himself. When Douglas Weldon put himself in any one's place, it was not a change of temperament or nature, it was only a change of locality. "If you only would give me up," Madge said, "or get angry with me, like every one else, perhaps I would love you more. But you won't, of course. Why didn't you fall in love with Rita?" He took her hand, and she let him hold it, 46 CLYDE FITCH wondering just what he would do with it. He had a firm, well-shaped hand, that still held her delicate, sensitive fingers tenderly. She could not but feel in it a sense of pro- tection and strength. "Don't you believe you do love me a little, in spite of yourself?" he asked. Madge gave him a puzzled glance and drew her hand away. She did not know whether she thought him a fool or a very wise man. But she felt she must make up her mind soon, in simple fairness to him. "Douglas," she said, "you shall have your answer on your birthday." "But that's not for nearly a month." "Well, aren't you willing to wait?" She would have been glad if he had not been : it would have pleased her to have him press her for an answer then and refuse to be put off. But Weldon's impatience had passed away, and he was willing to wait, 47 A WAVE OF LIFE especially with the certainty of an answer before him at a stated time. There was a slight commotion in the hall, and the maid brought in Mr. Farnsworth's card. Madge made a grimace. "Show Mr. Farnsworth into the library," she said, "and take the card to Miss Rita." "Won't you play something for me, Madge?" asked Weldon, when the maid was gone. "Why, I can't have any accompaniment," she answered. "That doesn't make any difference to me." "What shall I play?" she asked. "Anything; only," bashfully, "I should like something with a tune." "Oh, Douglas, Douglas!" she said, smil- ing. Madge's smile was often like the ripple on a deep pool: she smiled, but you saw a seriousness behind, like the darker depths beneath the dimpled water. She thought to herself as she took up her 48 CLYDE FITCH violin how like him the speech was ; he didn't care for music, it was only her he cared for; it wouldn't make any difference whether she played a national or a sonata he wouldn't understand. But she was partially wrong; for he would have much preferred the na- tional air. Douglas sat down in the window and watched her: it was something he loved to do, to watch her without talking. First she played some sprightly ballet music. Then she wilfully changed it into the parts of the mass she had played unconsciously to Farns- worth that afternoon a week ago. Douglas only saw the expression he worshiped come into her face, and dropped his cigarette into a vase near his elbow, so the smoke would not be between his eyes and her. When she finished, and he spoke, she started and looked around, as if she had forgotten who was there. Farnsworth and Rita were discussing a 49 A WAVE OF LIFE new book in the library. Rita was disap- pointed, when she came down, that he had not brought his own manuscript ; but Farns- worth said it was not quite ready to read to her yet. "I don't think it will pay you to read Bond Breckenridge's new book," he told her: "it is nothing but a love-story pure and simple." "But I like some love-stories. I don't mean that in choosing a book I should ask only if it were a love-story or not, but I do like to find love in it. Now, do you think me awfully sentimental?" "No, indeed." And they both laughed, though neither could have told exactly why. "But this new novel of mine has no love in it. It's been my idea to write such a book for some time. I don't know how successful I'm going to be." "That depends, of course, on how interest- ing it is, and what you have to create that interest. You must have something. I sup- 50 CLYDE FITCH pose love doesn't interest the world generally as much as it used to. What is it about, your book?" "It's about I should say it was about the lack of love. It's what some people call a Social Study. It deals with modern society." "Do you mean it's like one of Mr. Howells's?" "No. But I've taken a set of worldly peo- ple full of schemes and plans for life, some of which are successful and some of which are not. However it is, it makes but little difference. The 'set' continues on. Clever women make and keep places in society for themselves to which they have no right. Clever men marry pretty girls who are rich, and obtain a home which they only use as a convenience. People become engaged, mar- ried and divorced, all with equal facility and without even a reference to love at any rate, not the true sort. Politicians are suc- A WAVE OF LIFE cessful. Millionaires fail. Babies are born. Old people live on. Young girls die." Rita did not answer immediately. She did not know quite what to say. She was wondering if he were writing one of those immoral novels. She hoped not, but she did not know how to say so. She concluded, however, that he would not have proposed reading it to her in that case although she knew some men, nowadays, were decidedly free about such things, especially the artists with whom Farnsworth spent much of his time (really, when he did not spend it with her, but she did not think of it in that way) . She asked another question: "Have you any religion in it ? Most books have now." "No study of religion, if you mean that." "Yes. Mamma told me, I think, you were a High Churchman." "Yes, that form of worship appeals to me more than any other. Some people tell CLYDE FITCH me it's wrong, because it's reaching God through the medium of my senses; but I don't see why that's wrong, if I reach Him. Others tell me that what I worship is the Ritual, and not God; and I can only tell them they are wrong that the beauty of the service lifts me more out of my worldly self and into a purer mood of appreciation and thought, a loftier state of mind. I never argue about religious matters, because I can't. I only know what I believe, unbe- lievingly, and that I am a poor example of those who agree with me: so I try to keep myself in the background." "I don't know just what I do believe, but I often wish I had been brought up to be a Church woman : it might have made a differ- ence; I don't know. You see, mamma was an Episcopalian and papa a Presbyterian when they married, and between themselves and their two families they could not decide which should give up to the other, and it 53 A WAVE OF LIFE ended in their not going to any church very often, and now mamma is a Social Scientist." "Really!" exclaimed Farnsworth, much astonished. He had never in the least un- derstood what a Social Scientist was, but he had always had an abhorrence of them, and believed them all to be cranks. Rita laughed at his very evident surprise. "You needn't be alarmed," she said: "she isn't much of a one. Between ourselves, I don't think she believes in it herself really, but it amuses her and gives her something to think of; and then we are all very fond of Miss Wright, who won mamma over. She's one of the great leaders." "You're not one of them?" said Farns- worth, somewhat beseechingly. "Oh, no! I don't know what I am. I wish I were more of something. I seem to believe in a God, but don't be shocked I don't know what kind of a one. Sometimes I've thought I was a sort of pantheist, I'm 54 CLYDE FITCH so fond of nature. I always spend my sum- mers away off somewhere in the country, in- stead of going with mamma to the watering- places and 'resorts.' And do you know? I can make flowers live longer than any one else. . . . That has always been one of the odd differences between Madge and me, since we were little girls. Madge loves flow- ers too, but she always wore hers till they were bruised, or broken, and faded, and then she pressed them, if they were ones she wanted especially to keep, in her favorite book. I never wore mine, or, if I did, not till they were dead. I put them in water and nursed them, until they blossomed them- selves away, and only the stems and fallen petals were left." She looked at Farns- worth, and her face fell. His eyes were far away, and he did not seem to be listening. "I'm boring you," she said penitently. He started. 55 A WAVE OF LIFE "Indeed you are not," he answered, look- ing at her earnestly. "I was only thinking." "Thinking what?" she asked, when he stopped abruptly, indefinitely expecting something. He had been thinking what an exquisite, ideal little creature she was how that all her life she had been tossed about from her mother to her sister as a plaything, and yet she had kept a character of her own, sweeter and more stable than theirs. He could not remember ever having seen a look of dis- contentment on her face. He had been with her when she was disappointed and annoyed, but she had not let either feeling get the better of her. She never did a tedious or disagreeable thing, if she could help it, but if such things had to be done, arid could not be put off any longer, she did them herself quietly, instead of leaving them for the sym- pathetic hands of some one else. She was the most restful person he had ever known. 56 CLYDE FITCH Just to look at her made him happier. But he did not tell her that these had been his thoughts. "I was thinking," he said, "how you are naturally good and true without that stimu- lus with which I am a careless, wicked fellow." And, in spite of the pleasure which his praise gave her, Rita felt somehow dis- appointed with his answer. Shortly after he went away, leaving be- hind the novel he had brought, unopened. When he said good-bye he added "You don't know how much I think of you, Miss Rita." Always before he had called her Miss Synnett. He had that seri- ous look in his eyes which Rita liked. She answered him, with a smile that a more con- ceited or less irresponsible man would have understood "And I of you." She hoped he would linger a little longer, but he only hesitated a moment, and then 57 A WAVE OF LIFE went out of the room. She stood for some time just where he left her, the discarded novel lying forgotten on the floor at her feet, thinking over their conversation, and of what good friends they were simply good, honest friends. On the steps as he was leaving the house Farnsworth met Madge. She had strolled out with Weldon again, and he had just left her. The air had put her in the best of spirits: she even felt agreeably inclined toward Mr. Farnsworth. "You're coming to-morrow night," she said, "aren't you? You know it is mamma's night at home, and we are going to have some music. Mrs. Jones-Robbins is going to sing." "Thanks," Farnsworth replied. "I shall certainly come now, after a special invita- tion from you. And I shall take it for a peace-offering." "By no means. You're entirely too grasp- 58 CLYDE FITCH ing. At the most it's only a very temporary flag of truce," said Madge, amusedly. "Really, you know, you can't blame me: the end quite justified the means," he said, determined to make the most of his oppor- tunity. "But you'll acknowledge," trying unsuc- cessfully to look serious, "that it was abomin- able, contemptible of you?" "Oh, yes, I'll acknowledge anything, if you'll pardon me," he said serio-comically. "I will on one condition" her manner changed completely; she was altogether in earnest now: "it is that you won't confine all your reading to Rita, but will read to me once." "It would bore you to death." "Don't be foolish. I'll run that risk." "Done, then." And they shook hands. There was an indescribable sensation of magnetism, as if their two hearts were striving to beat in 59 A WAVE OF LIFE time, like the getting into step of two com- rades in marching. It was a strange sense of unusual sympathy that startled Farns- worth so that he forgot to let go her hand till Madge suddenly drew it away, trem- bling. Smiling strainedly at him, she turned and went into the house without speaking. Farnsworth lifted his hat, and walked slowly up the street. "There's something strange about that girl that draws me to her and at the same time repels me," he said to himself; and he thought of Madge all the way home. That night he worked on his novel. He tried a change. He wrote a love-passage into it, which he felt strongly when he read it aloud to himself, late, just before going to bed; but in the morning, before taking certain chapters to read to Rita, he cut it out. 60 CHAPTER III MRS. SYNNETT was never happier than when receiving her friends on Sunday evening. The moment any one en- tered her rooms she made him feel welcome, and then placed him agreeably in conversa- tion somewhere. She was with her guests like an artist with his colors: she knew how to combine those that went well together. And her music-room was always crowded, because people knew they would not be de- pended upon to amuse themselves and their hostess at Mrs. Synnett's. This Sunday evening Farnsworth and Weldon had dined there informally, after walking home with the two girls from the afternoon service at St. Mary's, where they had gone to hear some festival music. Wel- 61 A WAVE OF LIFE don was being made use of by Mrs. Synnett. He was always willing to be introduced to any one for the sake of helping her in any way. He did not have Farnsworth's tact of himself filling up a breach, but he would allow himself to be bored with perfect com- posure when told how. Rita was regularly sacrificed on the social altar every Sunday evening by her mother, without any of the parental compunction which filled the breast of Abraham when he led Isaac up the mountain. Nothing, of course, was expected of Madge, except what she would do of her own sweet will, which sometimes was more than the others were capable of, but was more often rather little. She stood this evening with Farnsworth, at one side, telling him who the people were as they came in, and criticizing freely. Rita saw the evident state of good feeling between them with pleased surprise. "Ah! who is that?" asked Farnsworth, as 62 CLYDE FITCH a tall, handsome woman dressed in red, with a superb figure, greeted Weldon somewhat impressively and took him away from an ir- responsive, middle-aged, thin little creature, a poetess whose volume had not yet come out, and with whom he had been trying to converse on his whole repertoire of topics. "That's Mrs. Norris. Isn't she stun- ning?" "Who is she?" "Why, don't you know? She writes so- ciety articles for the papers. Every one is awfully afraid of her, except the men, and they all worship her." "I don't wonder." "No; do you? I'm with the men. I'm devoted to her. We're great friends. I'll introduce you." "Thanks later; I'm in no hurry just now. Who's her husband?" "Her what?" repeated Madge, laughing. "I'm sure I don't know. Nobody does. No- 63 A WAVE OF LIFE body ever saw him or heard of him. She hasn't any." "But I thought you said she was Mrs. Norris?" "I did, but she's a divorcee. I should have thought you'd know that when I told you she was a society correspondent of the news- papers. They nearly all are ; I think it must be one of the requirements; and they add to it the ability to keep their reputation bet- ter and longer than most society women, and against twice as great odds." Farnsworth was watching her talk with Weldon. Her face was full of splendid ani- mation. Health, spirit, worldly wisdom, freedom, were expressed in every feature and movement. She would have made a fine Goddess of Liberty as she stood there. "We've known her," Madge went on, "ever since I can remember. She's awfully amusing, and so clever. You ought to hear her apologize for putting mamma's 'at 64 CLYDE FITCH homes' in her notes, because mamma pre- tends she doesn't like being in the news- papers, when we know, and so does Mrs. Norris, of course, that it really pleases her and that she cuts out and keep every notice." "She seems to like Weldon very much." "Yes, because she can't flirt with him. He doesn't know how to flirt. You'd better give him lessons." She looked quizzically at him. "Thanks," said Farnsworth, smiling. "I shouldn't like to interfere with your train- ing. I should say he was in a fair way to learn here, if he is going to at all." "That's one for you," said Madge; "but I told Rita, after the first time I saw you, that you were a flirt." "Did you?" answered Farnsworth pro- vokingly. "Oh, you're getting disagreeable again," said Madge. "Let's talk about the people. You'll know them all intimately before the 65 A WAVE OF LIFE winter's over. Most of them come regu- larly." "Well, then, tell me who all those people are grouped in the corner." "Where? Oh, yes. The man standing with the bright necktie is a Browning reader. The lady next to him, with the suspiciously golden hair, is Mrs. Hedder, the great ama- teur actress (don't you know? five dollars a ticket, and no seat when you get there) . They're always together; she says her hus- band doesn't care for society, and it's quite evident he doesn't for that of his wife. The quiet little woman next to her is an uninter- esting non-entity, but she's very rich, and takes a box for all of Mrs. Hedder's per- formances, and belongs to all of the Brown- ing classes; so they are naturally polite to her. Her husband's here somewhere, I'm sure ; yes, there he is over in the alcove, look- ing at a book. That's the way he spends his whole evening, generally with the same 66 CLYDE FITCH book, and we don't bother him, because we know it embarrasses him to meet strangers, and he can't talk to save his neck. His wife wants to be known as a society woman, though why the Lord only knows, for she always seems bored to death, and no one would take any notice of her if she didn't boast a chef and give one of the best dinners in New York. "Those two men talking together beside her are both clever : the swellest one, with the big boutonniere, is an English literature pro- fessor, and a delightful essayist; the other's a newspaper editor. One's a Republican, and the other's a Democrat; and that's the way they go on all evening. The tall, aris- tocratic-looking woman just going to join them is Miss Wright, the Social Scientist." Madge paused, a little out of breath. "Is it, really?" exclaimed Farnsworth, leaning over interestedly to see her better. "Do you know her?" asked Madge. 67 A WAVE OF LIFE "No; oh, no; but I've heard of her. Please go on. You can't imagine how en- tertained I am." This was quite true, and Madge, who was also enjoying it, continued: "The rest of the group in the corner are the pretty woman in the yellow dress has written a successful play, which is running now somewhere. The handsome man behind her is an English actor, the leading man in Mary Anderson's company. She was going to marry him once, which is enough to make a lot of other women want to now. Next to him is a poet who writes delightful verses which every one reads. Just behind us don't look around is his opposite. The young girl with them plays on the piano really plays, like a dream the kind of music which makes the chills creep up and down your back. Now," taking a breath and smil- ing at Farnsworth, who smiled back, enjoy- ing himself hugely, "the lady to whom mam- 68 CLYDE FITCH ma takes so many people is a new novelist; but of course you know her: you brought her here. That man poor Rita is talking to is a physiologist of some sort I don't know exactly what, but it's disagreeable, and no one else will talk to him, so she has to, though she doesn't understand half he says, as he has an impediment in his speech." He looked at Rita just as she had turned her head away from looking at him. She was envying Madge with all her heart, but was honestly trying to pay attention to Mr. Roscommon. Farnsworth saw the distant look in her clear eyes, and felt the kind little smile was forced. He wanted to go to her, to take her away from that man who seemed to be in the midst of a long harangue and made motions every now and then, as he talked, with a large, flat hand. He decided he would go after Madge had finished her amusing description. "The best-dressed woman in the room is 69 A WAVE OF LIFE Mrs. Van Ostrand," said Madge. "She's a connection of the A s, and is the friend who always sends us our Assembly tickets, and is one of the few of that set who come often to the house. She comes because it's different here and amuses her. The man coming in now is a husband without his wife, for a change, instead of the other way around. His wife is a great friend of ours, but she doesn't approve of Sunday night 'at homes/ so she comes to see us other times. The tall, lanky man by the piano is a widow- er with three children, who has been in love with Rita for the last few years, but who follows her about from a distance, so you can't exactly snub him. He's never had the courage to propose ; and we've concluded that when he married before it must have been leap-year. He writes. Everybody here does something. Those who don't do any- thing else over-exert themselves in their at- tempts to do nothing. 70 CLYDE FITCH "The handsome man with the gray hair is an army officer from the fort, who goes everywhere that Mrs. N orris does. Three times there has been a report spread that they were going to be married; but they aren't yet. You see that rather stout, bald man who is going around trying to make himself agreeable to every one who'll let him? He was a very popular singer once, but it's the ghost of his voice now that walks. I know that voices usually float, or soar, or something like that, but his doesn't any longer, I assure you : it has come down now, and walks. Of course he can't get profes- sional engagements any more, so he goes to all the 'at homes' he can, hoping to be asked to sing as a favor. A great many people do ask him, but mamma doesn't dare, for I've told her I would not play when he sang. He sets my teeth on edge. I know it's horrid of me, but I can't help it. And of course mamma always wants to exhibit her daugh- A WAVE OF LIFE ter. It's dreadful to have the showman in- stinct in your mother. There, I've finished." "I'm sorry," said Farnsworth, laughing heartily. "And you must tell me who this is," as a young college boy walked past them and stumbled over a chair, his hands being apparently the only things in the room of which he was conscious. "That," said Madge, suppressing a smile as the subject of their conversation bowed to her and then rolled his eyes up and stared hard at the ceiling to show he was perfectly at ease "that is Mrs. Osprey's son. She takes him around with her everywhere; she says he's such a protection though against what she needs it no one can imagine. That is she talking to the unappreciated poet be- hind us the very middle-aged lady in the girlish disguise." "Why is it," asked Farnsworth, "that peo- ple are so afraid of growing old? Nearly 72 CLYDE FITCH every one is the same. We value youth almost above riches." "I know it," said Madge. "If women especially would only learn to grow old gracefully! But we don't, somehow; we spend all our time trying to rub out the lines Time draws, like the photographer who, in 'touching up' a photograph, usually leaves it characterless. Well, most of the other people are charming, as you will find out for yourself. Now I'm going to present you to Mrs. Norris." Mrs. Norris and Farnsworth liked each other from the first. She had read his book and enjoyed it, and she made him realize this without actually telling him so. "Of course you're in love with Madge," she said. "Isn't she a wonderful creature?" "Yes, she is; but I don't feel that I know her yet : I don't understand her." "You mustn't expect to understand her," answered Mrs. Norris. "There are some 73 A WAVE OF LIFE things, human as well as divine, that you must take on faith. Madge Synnett is one of them. I'd give anything if one of my children were like her." "One of your what?" exclaimed Farns- worth, his surprise getting the better of him. "Yes," said Mrs. Norris, looking at him amusedly and quite enjoying it. "Didn't you know I had two children, down in my old place on the Hudson? dear, nice chil- dren; but it's true I seldom speak of them, and they never come up to town. They're living with a maiden aunt of mine, a good old creature who always had all the mater- nal feeling of the family." Farnsworth was on the point of asking how old they were, but saved himself just in time, and spoke of Rita instead. Mrs. Norris echoed his ad- miration, but said she understood her less than Madge. "I love her," she said, "but she's quite beyond me, and she's the one person in the 74 CLYDE FITCH world who reminds me I have a conscience. I'm never with her long at a time without seeing her do something which I know I ought to do, but I won't take the trouble. She's a clever little thing, too. She's a rival of yours : she writes." "Yes, I know it," said Farnsworth; "I've seen several of her short stories: they are quite original, and her simplicity of style is delightful. It is only because she is as yet immature in her work that she has not had more success. I believe with some great experience she would do great things." "Of course she hasn't Madge's genius," remarked Mrs. Norris, with the complacent air with which so many women speak of the divine spark. "Yes?" answered Farnsworth in a non- committal voice, not sure himself whether he should speak so decidedly. "What an amusing crowd there are here!" 75 A WAVE OF LIFE he continued after a moment. "I suppose you know them all?" "Yes, most of them. I wish I could be carried off and dropped right down in the middle of an entirely new set of people. These all get to look more or less alike do you notice it? each one seems to say to the other, 'I do so-and-so, what do you do?' and your first thought always on being in- troduced to any one is, 'I wonder what he's written.' " "But yet they are not all writers, are they?" "No, indeed ; there are painters and musi- cians among them, and some very delight- ful people who read and listen. And here's one of the bores," she added, as an over- dressed little woman passed her and bowed conspicuously. "That's the third time she's bowed to me to-night : she's greeted me from all over the room. Do you know why? She wants me to be sure to see her, and put her 76 CLYDE FITCH name in the 'amongst those present.' Isn't she silly?" Farnsworth laughed as if it were a good joke. He liked this woman: first, because she was so candid, and because she had an opinion; then, besides, he liked her manner and her personality. They had been talking some time, during all of which she had stood beside him, as tall as he, and as straight, moving her head well and keeping her splen- did figure in perfect repose. She was one of those few women who seem to be totally un- conscious of their appearance. She had not once arranged her gown even surreptitious- ly, nor touched her waist, nor fastened a jewel, nor tampered with her fan, nor minded her glove. "Come," she said, "we might as well sit down; there's no extra charge," laughing, and raising her eyebrows, "and Algernon Bolingbroke is going to read some Brown- ing, I see." 77 A WAVE OF LIFE The man with the bright tie, of the group in the corner, was leaning toward Mrs. Hedder, who was evidently advising him what to read. "Are you fond of Browning?" asked Farnsworth. "Well, to be honest, I don't care for any poetry: the rhyme annoys me. I've always thought I should like Browning, but some- how I can never listen; as soon as any one has commenced reading, a word or some- thing in the poem suggests something else personal to me, and my thoughts go wan- dering off, and my attention is only attract- ed again by some sentence which strikes me forcibly, I don't exactly know why." "Yes, but don't you think " "'Sh!" motioned Mrs. Norris: "he's go- ing to commence. I always pretend to lis- ten, at any rate: I think it's brutal not to." Mr. Algernon Bolingbroke stood by the piano, slightly against it. He had a plain 78 CLYDE FITCH but strong and attractive face. A heavy lock of straight black hair fell over on his forehead, refusing to stay in place. His long frock-coat fitted him to perfection, and his boutonniere was a cluster of white tube- roses. He turned over the leaves of a well- worn book for a few moments. Mrs. Hedder remained where he had left her, only taking a more intense attitude. She held a hot-house rose tightly in one hand which dropped over the arm of her chair, in the other she rested her chin, with her elbow on her knee, and, opening her lips a little, remained so, rigidly, through the whole read- ing, her eyes fixed straight ahead of her. She was thinking about the costume she was going to have for her next play, and deciding on the materials. Most of the people in the room drew nearer, or to one side, until some idea of a semicircle was obtained in front of the reader. The unsuccessful poet leaned against the casing of one of the windows, 79 A WAVE OF LIFE with his head thrown back, and gazed at the chandelier. A rival reader withdrew into a distant corner to whisper witty criticism and complimentary innuendoes to Mrs. Osprey. Young Osprey slipped out of the room and through the front door into the street to smoke a cigarette. A group of true admir- ers of Robert Browning and appreciators of Bolingbroke's really good reading were just in front. Those who affected an ad- miration which they were not capable of feel- ing were withdrawn discreetly a little out- side the circle, where they could watch the other people in the room. The successful new novelist and several others who had been having a very jolly time, and who never cared for readings of any sort, showed their gentle breeding, like Mrs. Norris, by good- naturedly preparing themselves to listen. Mrs. Van Ostrand found a retired place be- hind the piano, where she leaned back in a lounging-chair and closed her eyes; she 80 CLYDE FITCH would be quite rested at the end of the poem to go on to Mrs. Steering's. The small elderly poetess whose volume had not yet appeared sat inside the semicircle, close to Bolingbroke, because she was quite deaf, and, as it was, only caught a word now and then. Weldon sat in one window-seat, un- consciously looking at his hands. Madge sat in another with Captain Galloway, watching Weldon. Mr. Roscommon had just told Rita, with a gesture, that he would finish what he was explaining after the read- ing. Poor Rita commenced to look as if her head w r ere aching. Farnsworth could not allow it any longer. "Do you know," he said, "it's a shame for Miss Synnett to be sacrificed to that man? Can't we rescue her from him?" "Yes," answered Mrs. Norris. "I'll go over with you. You take Rita off, and leave me for Roscommon. I mean it," she said: "it won't make any difference to me whom Si A WAVE OF LIFE I am with during the reading, and for a little while after that he'll amuse me: he always does. He says every one has only three bones, or something like that; I never do quite understand exactly what his theory is, but it's something funny, and I pretend to get converted to it every time we talk to- gether. Then I can always get rid of him, and that seraph never could." "You're an angel of mercy," he said in a mockingly empressee manner. "Never," she answered. "I'm too old." Rita fairty beamed upon them. Farns- worth felt guilty that he had not come be- fore. How exquisitely pretty she was ! She was a seraph; she was one of the very few people he could remember having seen to whom the stereotyped garb and conventional employment of the generally accepted angel would have been becoming. Madge once said, in the impressive way she had, "You might do anything you could think of to 82 CLYDE FITCH Rita, but you could never make her look flat." Mr. Bolingbroke had the good sense, in so mixed an assembly, to give one of the very short poems ; it was a tragic one, which ended abruptly, and one of the ladies in the outer circle, who had happened to listen, for- got herself and asked rather loudly if he wasn't going to read the rest of it. The unappreciated poet, with his eyes still fast- ened upon an artificial candle- jet of gas, thought how he would have ended the same poem. The rather deaf poetess said noth- ing; for she thought he hadn't begun yet. Mrs. Hedder simply sighed very expressive- ly, and altered her position ; she had decided she could manage to wear four gowns in three acts by changing the order of two of the scenes, which did not affect her part in the least. But Mrs. Hedder's wealthy friend, the lady who attended all the Brown- ing readings, murmured "Sweet!" Mrs. 83 A WAVE OF LIFE Van Ostrand opened her eyes slowly and asked who was singing, and was very glad nobody heard her. Mrs. Norris, looking at Mr. Roscommon, said it was entirely too short which emboldened Mrs. Synnett, buttressed by the Browningites and politely seconded by the successful novelist and her clique, to beg for another selection. Accord- ingly, after the necessary amount of becom- ing hesitation, Bolingbroke, thinking to meet his audience better, recited "From Ghent to Aix," with not a little spirit. Wei- don joined heartily in the applause which followed it, and several others looked pleased to have heard something familiar to them. Mrs. Osprey exclaimed that she had heard that before was that Browning, too? She was so fond of Browning! She had heard "Aurora Leigh" read beautifully once. While Mrs. Synnett was shaking Boling- broke's hand and thanking him, and the Browningites were crowding around, the 84 CLYDE FITCH rest of the company changed about. Mrs. Norris told Mr. Roscommon really she should think over quite seriously what he had just been saying, as she allowed Captain Galloway to drag her away from the physio- logical discussion. Weldon had joined Madge, and Farnsworth and Rita had made themselves comfortable in his window-seat. Rita said she ought to go and help pour the tea, but Farnsworth said he would not allow her to, that she had done too much for the guests already; and she remained where she was, only too happy to be commanded to do anything by him. Farnsworth could not but notice her pleasure at being with him, but he accepted it without question. Her manner had completely changed. She was full of annimation and good spirits. She confessed she had heard scarcely a word of what that dreadful Mr. Roscommon had been talking about: she was watching Madge and him all the time. 85 A WAVE OF LIFE "What were you talking about?" she asked. Her eyes never wandered from his face when he spoke to her; she thought it was because he had so much expression. "Your sister was telling me who the peo- ple are," he said, smiling at her. She smiled back. "No wonder you were laughing. Isn't Madge bright ?" She looked away from him, just for a moment, toward her sister affec- tionately. "I'm so glad you're all right. You know there was a sort of coolness." "There was a something. She certainly did not like me at first. She says she told you that night, after dinner, that I was a flirt." "Yes, she did. Are you?" She asked it half seriously. "Not guilty, your ladyship." "Gentlemen of the jury, the prisoner is dismissed." 86 CLYDE FITCH "But you ought to define the charge. What is flirting?" asked Farnsworth. "Oh," replied Rita, sitting up very straight, and with a funny imitation, in miniature, of one of Mr. Roscommon's sweeping gestures, "flirting is flirting is a game," she lapsed back into her natural man- ner, "which two people play at, both mu- tually pretending an especial interest, and neither one believing in himself or in the other." "If they are both on their guard, and know the rules of the game, there isn't much harm done, I suppose," said Farnsworth, "except that after a time they won't be able to tell the real interest from the feigned one, and then they lose the former and the latter is nothing to gain." "Sometimes it does happen that one is not as experienced as the other, and makes a mis- take and gets in earnest." 8? A WAVE OF LIFE "Yes, and then we cannot but blame Ah ! your sister is going to play." "Oh, dear!" said Rita anxiously: "don't forget where you left off, will you?" Madge looked at Farnsworth as she took up her violin. She saw him stop talking in- stantly and lean back to listen. It pleased her. For a moment she thought she would ask him to play her accompaniment, but she saw Rita, and, after a second's hesitation, asked the young pianiste instead. The latter accompanied willingly and well. Madge played even better than usual. Everybody listened. Farns worth's thoughts wandered off to the country home of his boyhood. He thought of the beautiful rolling fields his mother used to take him walking over; he could see her now, and feel the touch of her hand, and hear the low murmur of her sweet voice as she talked to him of his father. He could see the soft, gray clouds drifting over their heads, and again they passed through 88 CLYDE FITCH the wicker gate that made an opening in the delicious thick green hedges which bounded their garden. Rita, half hidden in the win- dow-seat, wondered of whom he was think- ing. When Madge finished she glanced once more toward Farnsworth. The room was perfectly quiet; it was often the way when Madge played : people were so touched they were afraid to applaud her : the petty clatter of a few hands would be belittling of the music. She refused to play again, but final- ly, as they were persistent in their begging, she took up her bow, and, with a character- istic perverseness, played a lively, fickle Polish dance, that made every one start sud- denly and blink their eyes like people aroused out of a mesmeric sleep. Farns- worth had not finished wondering when she stopped. Every one laughed, and clapped their hands, and said the usual things; but 89 A WAVE OF LIFE Farnsworth turned to Rita with something like relief. "What did she do that for?" he asked. "I don't know," she answered. "It was just like Madge." The young pianiste was playing some- thing, and those near the piano listened. Madge turned over the leaves for her. Once in a while Rita and Farnsworth exchanged a word. When the piece was finished there were some well-meant applause and some appropriate exclamations, while Mrs. Syn- nett asked for something else, and accepted, rather quickly, a graceful refusal. Madge joined the two in the window-seat for a moment. "Mrs. Hedder is going to recite," she said. "I'm frightened to death, because Douglas always laughs at her. He asked me to open the window: he said he smelt already that 'jasmine flower.' ' Madge passed on to some others. 90 CLYDE FITCH "She always recites 'Aux Italiens,' " ex- plained Rita. But they were disappointed; for this time Mrs. Hedder recited something else. She stood behind, but at a distance from, her chair, as if it gave her a kind of moral support, and recited a fairly dramatic, not very original poem by Algernon Boling- broke, with more gesture than feeling. She finished, after being twice kindly prompted by Bolingbroke from memory, amidst loud applause, and several requests of the author for copies. Farnsworth and Rita then went on with their conversation. They indulged in mu- tual confidences about their childhood. They compared their youthful likes and dislikes, finding pleasure in similarities and matter for surprise in differences. They were both comfortable and happy, unconscious for a time of their somewhat uncongenial sur- roundings. Somebody did something else, they did not know what; their voices were A WAVE OF LIFE subdued, and back in the recess disturbed no one. "I don't know why it is," said Farnsworth, ''but I seem to talk differently to you than I do to most other people. I seem to speak more of real things. And I remember aft- erward what we talk about." "I'm glad," was all Rita said. She wanted to say more, but she did not know what. "We've known each other two months now, haven't we?" asked Farnsworth. "Not quite; one month and three weeks yesterday," she said, and then wondered if she ought to have let him know she remem- bered it so exactly. "Do you know, I've worked much better more evenly since then? You've helped me a great deal." "I don't see how I can have," said Rita modestly, "but it's good of you to say so." ' 'Shi" said somebody, coming up to the 92 CLYDE FITCH window, really only to see who were there: "Mrs. Jo^ies-Robbins is going to sing." "Oh, dear!" thought Rita: "it was so nice just talking!" Mrs. Jones-Robbins had a beautiful voice. She was the soprano in one of the swellest churches in town, and could always be count- ed on to attract at least one-half of the con- gregation. It was a great compliment to Mrs. Synnett that she sang for her, for she seldom sang now in private houses ; but Mrs. Synnett had obtained for her her first hear- ing when she came from Vermont to New York, plain Miss Jones, with a voice like a bird's, only not so well trained. That was years ago. She had studied abroad, and married, and been divorced since then. She sang two German songs and a French song, and after she had finished people commenced to go Mrs. Osprey, wrapped in an opera- cloak trimmed with swan's-down, under the protection of young Osprey, who had been 93 A WAVE OF LIFE yawning violently for the last half hour, among the first. The rest dawdled over their departure, as visitors will, half of them say- ing either too much or the wrong thing. But finally the last carriage door was slammed, and the front door gentlier after it, and the Synnetts and Weldon and Farnsworth were left behind. The men, with tact due to Farnsworth, took their departure almost im- mediately. "Didn't Mrs. Jones-Robbins sing well?" asked Mrs. Synnett. "But has the jasmine flower faded for good?" asked Weldon. "Don't!" exclaimed Mrs. Synnett. "What do you think she told me? she is going to play Pauline in 'The Lady of Lyons' at the Lyceum after Christmas. She asked to put me down among the patronesses." "Mrs. Norris is a delightful woman," said Farnsworth. 94 CLYDE FITCH "I knew you'd like her," said Madge. Rita said nothing: she stood by, listening. The men bade them all good-night. "Tuesday is my birthday," said Weldon to Madge. "I have not forgotten," she replied, look- ing him in the face earnestly, but with eyes that kept their own counsel. Weldon made some remark to Rita. "Good-night," said Farnsworth, coming up to her. "I shall not forget the definition of flirting. I'm going to put it in the novel." She thought he ended the evening flip- pantly. She was sorry, and went upstairs rather sobered. He shook Madge's hand, but they said nothing. Then the two men walked down the street in silence to the corner, where they separated. 95 CHAPTER IV FARNSWORTH worked hard all Mon- day on his novel. At first his ideas came not at all spontaneously, and writing was very tedious ; but the noon post brought him a note from Rita Synnett, asking him to go with them to a ball-game the next day. She said the Yale Alumni were going to play against the Harvard Alumni; some of them were professionals, and they all were picked players, Weldon among them, who was going to pitch for his side which was the principal reason for their wishing to g- Farnsworth sent off a reply thanking her, and saying he would join them to-morrow at two, and quoted a passage from his manu- script which he liked, for he knew Rita al- 96 CLYDE FITCH ways sympathized with his exclamation points. Then he went back to his writing. He found ideas crowding on him now, and wrote as rapidly as his fingers would move the pen, and most satisfactorily. It was so pleasant to have something in anticipation to think of when he wanted to rest his mind for a moment. And the fact of even so small a proof that others had thought of him gave him new spirit and encouraged him in his work. There are some natures who crave being in mind when out of sight. Farns- worth was one of these. Nothing made life more worth the living to him than little proofs, no matter how insignificant, that others had him in their thoughts. It was only another form of his longing for sym- pathy. And it did not interfere with his fondness for solitude: he often liked to be alone. During the evening, once, seeing Rita's letter as it lay on the desk among his scat- 97 A WAVE OF LIFE tered papers, the thought flashed across his mind what life might be with such a woman as she always by him. How one could write with the encouragement of a constant pres- ence so sweet as hers! how one might over- come those periodical despairings of one's existence, with so hopeful a heart as hers beating against one's own! Life would be purer and larger; work for and care of such a woman would be one of those blessed privi- leges which elevate one's life past even one's own high aims. "But of Rita Synnett I am not worthy," he said, with that self-abasement which char- acterized certain of his moods. No one knew and despised his own weaknesses more than Cyril Farnsworth, and no one, perhaps, took fewer pains to overcome them. "Of Rita Synnett I am not worthy. Love should flood her life with the glad sun of noonday : the love of a man like me would only mean the paler light of the twilight moon, over 98 CLYDE FITCH whose face too many clouds are often pass- ing. I will not think of love and her; I will not break the friendship which now means peace and happiness to me. She gives me this: why think of asking more more than she would likely give, more than I, God knows, deserve? What have I to offer her? Only prospects ! It would be cruel indeed to yoke her to me under the burden of a career like mine, which is only begun; to ask her to share all the disappointments, the sacri- fices; to offer her 'Grub Street' in place of her own luxurious home. It is madness. I will not think of it." And so he reasoned with himself, and a great and pure love, which does not come to every one, which had sent forth its first shoot in this man's heart, was pruned to the roots. It could not flower now, but it was gaining strength to blossom all the larger and more beautiful when its time should come again, if it did not die mean- 99 A WAVE OF LIFE while of starvation or neglect, or be choked by those weeds of passion which grow quickly, and whose blossom too is bright, but whose flower the bee would shun, for its honey is poison. "I must be wedded to my work," Farns- worth said. He had taken Rita's letter up in his hands ; he slipped it between the leaves of a volume of Keats by his elbow, and, after walking up and down the room a few times, settled himself again at his desk. That is the way a man has. He decides it is to be friendship and not love, and then he walks up and down his room a few times, with his hands behind his back. But the woman she has to sit still. It is not for her to choose which it shall be. She does not pace up and down her room, and her hands lie empty in her lap. Farnsworth was late the next day, and they were ready and waiting when he ar- rived. Madge said it was just like him. 100 CLYDE FITCH "Oh, you literary men!" she laughed; "y u poets!" He brought them all flowers a bunch of mignonette for Mrs. Synnett, who put them in a bowl for the table, a heavy damask rose for Madge, and a bunch of white and blue violets for Rita. He was especially kind to Rita, and walked by her side down the street. This left Madge for her mother, and Madge was not good com- pany. Somehow or other, it annoyed her, although she was ashamed of it, to see Rita and Farnsworth together ahead and talking so earnestly as they were. "I think we're rather de trop" she said to Mrs. Synnett. "Dear me !" said the latter, "I do hope we are. How nice he is! And I was wonder- ing what we should do for flowers at dinner to-night." It was Weldon's birthday, and Madge had promised to give him his answer that day, 101 A WAVE OF LIFE and she must keep her promise. The day was going, but so far she had decided and undecided until she was half distracted. She wanted to say yes, but she was afraid to more afraid than she had been a week be- fore. Why? She would not answer the question even to herself. She would keep close to the others, or rather close to her mother, all the time, and he could not ask her then, and perhaps something would pre- vent his coming in the evening. She would put it off as long as she could. "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Synnett fretfully, "there's one of the jet ornaments off my coat here in front! Madge, let me wear your rose : it will cover it nicely." Madge did not answer immediately. When she did, she said "Can't you pin it on, or something?" "No, I can't: I've lost it," said Mrs. Syn- nett. "Never mind: if you can't spare your rose, I'll ask Rita for some of her violets." 102 CLYDE FITCH She started to catch up with the couple ahead. Madge followed slowly. "Poor Rita!" she thought; "I know what those violets are to her, and she'll do it but she shan't." "Mamma," she said, taking hold of her arm, "I'd rather you took the rose. I don't know that it makes any difference, after all." And she gave it to her. "Thank you, dear," said Mrs. Synnett complacently. "I am decided," Madge was thinking to herself. "He's a splendid, good fellow. I will say yes." And she began a lively one- sided conversation with her mother. The Athletic grounds were crowded. A brilliant array of coaches and turnouts were there, with an equal display of crimson and blue. Weldon had secured good seats ahead for his party, and they were shown imme- diately to them, in the midst of a crowd of people wearing the colors of Weldon's Alma 103 A WAVE OF LIFE Mater. They stood for a few moments talk- ing with some friends near them before the game was called. Farnsworth and Madge found themselves together. She saw he no- ticed that her rose was gone. The spirit of coquetry took possession of her. There was a sort of nonchalant air about Farnsworth that piqued her. "Well?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What have you done with it?" asked Farnsworth, knowing she knew what he meant. "Why?" asked Madge. It pleased her that he noticed the rose was gone ; it pleased her more than from his manner he seemed to care. "Why?" repeated Farnsworth. "I don't know why, except that I gave it to you and would have liked you to have worn it at least to have kept it." "I'm sorry," answered Madge. "Really I hated to give it up, you don't know how 104 CLYDE FITCH much, but mamma wanted it to to well, to cover an emergency ; and I gave it to her, rather unwillingly. I thought you wouldn't mind, but I am glad that you do." She added this in a slightly-lowered tone. Farnsworth looked toward Mrs. Synnett, and saw the rose. He laughed. "Oh, I understand," he said, "and I don't mind, really." But Madge believed that he did. The game was called, and they all sat down. Mrs. Synnett asked Madge a ques- tion about the playing, but she did not an- swer. Madge was thinking again, and her decision again wavered. She hoped now for the second time that Douglas would not come in that evening. Then she shook her- self mentally, and resolved to watch the playing. The two nines were most evenly matched, and the game promised to be an exciting one. Time was called for some reason or other 105 A WAVE OF LIFE during the first inning, and Weldon came toward Madge. Mrs. Synnett, who never had mastered the game of baseball, asked who had beaten, and was surprised to hear that they had only just commenced. Weldon looked very handsome in his knickerbockers and loose jersey, his tanned throat bare, and his curly golden hair tossed about and shining almost like metal in the sun. As he stood there, Madge could not but admire him, he seemed such a perfect type of physical manhood; his figure was worthy of a Grecian frieze, and his forehead might have worn an Olympic laurel. "Do you want to make a bet, Madge?" he asked; "half a dozen pair of gloves to a box of Turkish cigarettes?" Madge laughed, and said "That's about as even as a girl usually bets. I'll take you; but I intend to win." "So do I," said Weldon "everything I 106 CLYDE FITCH fight for. Madge, you always pay your debts?" "Yes, if they're cigarettes." "But you know it isn't the ball-game only that I want to win to-day, and if you lose you needn't give me the cigarettes if you'd rather give me something else I want more." "Do you really want this other more than your cigarettes, Douglas?" Madge asked, with some cynicism. "I can't do without either," he answered, laughing, as he went back to the field. Mrs. Synnett stopped him on the way: "Why does that man behind the man with the bat say 'one strike,' or 'two strikes/ when the batter doesn't strike at all?" Weldon explained: "Because the pitcher pitched a good ball, and the batter ought to have struck at it. A batter is only allowed the chance to strike at three good balls. When they are not good balls that is, when they are not sent over 107 A WAVE OF LIFE the base, and high or low as the batter wants them they count against the pitcher, and are simply called 'balls.' When they are good balls, they are called 'strikes/ whether the batter hits them or not." "Oh!" said Mrs. Synnett, who didn't quite understand yet, but thought it wiser not to say so. "It's so interesting. I do love a base- ball game." When he had gone she turned to Madge: "Why don't they let the batters strike at the ball till they do hit it? I should think it would be fairer. And how many of these innings are there, anyway?" "Nine, usually," Madge answered; "but if the score is tied at the ninth they play on till one side gets ahead." "Of course," said Mrs. Synnett, "one side always does beat, doesn't it?" Apropos of baseball there are two kinds of women the woman who doesn't under- stand it at all, but watches it, like a person 1 08 CLYDE FITCH with no ear for music who goes to the opera because other people do, and because the mise-en-scene is generally pleasing; and the woman who understands it herself but can- not explain it to any one else; if she tries to she muddles hopelessly not only her lis- teners but herself besides. Rita was a cross between the two. A great difficulty with her thorough under- standing was that, no matter how prejudiced she might be in favor of one nine, her sym- pathies always carried her off to the side of the one being defeated. In the course of a hotly-contested game this was apt to be con- fusing. She found, however, on this occa- sion that her great friendship for Weldon rather kept her interests on his side alto- gether; and perhaps the fact of Farnsworth being an excited upholder of the same nine had also something to do with this. It was a magnificently played game. The enthusiasm was tremendous, the 'rahs and 109 A WAVE OF LIFE shouts scarcely dying away for a moment. At the end of the eighth inning the score was tied. At the beginning of the ninth Weldon's nine was at the bat. Two men had been struck out. O'Donnohue, of the Buffaloes, was the next batter: it was their chance to get ahead. Weldon stood near to "coach," and they had a man on third base. One strike and three balls had been called. A ball flew toward the home-plate, was hit by O'Donnohue, and tore along the ground, a hot liner between first and second base. Second base fumbled it, and then threw it to the catcher. The man on third base had started run- ning toward the home-plate. Farnsworth stood up in his seat, a great mass of people swayed forward from one side, as the run- ner dropped and slid on to the plate just before the catcher touched him with the ball. Such a shout! such a waving mass of flags no CLYDE FITCH and streamers! The grandstand shook, and the coaches trembled on their springs ! Then every one stopped, saving their strength for the finish. It was the middle of the ninth inning, and Weldon's nine was one ahead. Mrs. Synnett opened her eyes. She had shut them when the runner dropped. "Is he dead?" she asked. "No," said Madge, "but the other side is." She had fully caught the enthusiasm of the moment. Weldon had been playing splendidly, and pitching for his nine almost better than his opponents' man, who was a professional. He had looked heroic in the pitcher's box, with all those other strong men watching him almost breathlessly and de- pending on him for what seemed their life or death. He glanced at Madge now, and flung his cap up in the air, and she waved her hand- kerchief and a bit of ribbon he had given her back to him. Some people behind her were in A WAVE OF LIFE saying how handsome he was, and she felt a sense of grateful pride that this man loved her. The score stood three to four in favor of Weldon's nine. He took his position again in the pitcher's box, calm and possessed as a statue. If he could keep the other nine from making a run, the game was his. An unnatural quiet fell on the crowd. There was something in- tense in the pitch of excitement. Weldon looked around at his men and nodded encouragingly : he smiled at the short stop, a nervous little fellow who could not keep still. "Play!" sang out the umpire. Something seemed to tighten everybody's nerves. Bodies were bent forward, eyes were strained, and hands were clinched tight. Martin, a member of the Chicagoes, was at the bat. "One strike." 112 CLYDE FITCH "Foul." "Counts for nothing," said Madge, aloud, for her mother's benefit. A little bare footed ragamuffin dropped over the fence and threw the ball back into the field. "Ball one." "Ball two." " 'Fraid Weldon's giving out," said some one behind Madge. "No, he isn't!" she exclaimed, looking around, forgetting herself in her excitement. Then Martin struck the ball hard. The crowd on the stand rose en masse, as the "center field," running backward, caught the ball neatly with his hands up over his head, but stumbled and dropped it, and Martin had his base. The audience was silent still. Yale and Harvard hearts thumped too thick for ut- terance yet. The crimson and the blue flut- tered softly in the breeze. A WAVE OF LIFE The rival pitcher came to the bat. Wei- don threw the ball to first base, and almost before it touched his hands back again had it over the home-plate. The next ball the rival pitcher sent away over the head of the left fielder, and took his base, and managed to steal second, while Martin ran to third. "Look at him! look at him!" shrieked Mrs. Synnett excitedly: "he's going to that other bag. Why doesn't somebody stop him!" People were too interested even to laugh. The first ball pitched to the next batter was hit with a ring, and came straight and hard as a rock back into the pitcher's box. There was an indescribable sound, which was felt rather than heard, as the ball struck Weldon, who swayed and fell. "Time!" shouted the umpire, running up, and the men from the two nines crowded around. Madge turned deathly pale, and her lips blue. She looked as if she were going to 114 CLYDE FITCH faint. Mrs. Synnett, who of course was never without a vinaigrette, slipped a fash- ionable, somewhat useless one into Madge's hand ; Madge covered it up with a handker- chief, and used it, and seemed a little helped, but she leaned heavily against her mother. "Why doesn't some one find out what it is," she asked faintly. There were tears suggested in Rita's eyes, and she had leaned over to take Madge's hand, when one of the men came up to Mrs. Synnett. "Mr. Weldon sent me to you," he said, "to tell you he's not hurt." Madge straightened up. "What was it?" she asked. "He's broken two of his fingers, and was stunned for a moment that's all," said the professional player, to whom such an acci- dent was not a very serious matter, and, lift- ing his hat, he left them. Madge bit her lips hard, but said nothing. A WAVE OF LIFE Mrs. Synnett wondered if she ought to go to him, and said of course she couldn't. Farnsworth said there was a surgeon there setting the fingers, and that she could be of no service. "Let's go home," said Rita. "No," said Madge. "I want to wait and see who wins. That is what Douglas came for, and he will want to know all about it." In only a few minutes the men in the field took their places again. Who would pitch? every one was asking. No one there could take Weldon's place. The game was as good as lost for his side. Then they looked up, and saw Weldon himself standing in the pitcher's box, no longer flushed and gay, but apparently steady, and in earnest. Madge gasped, and her face flamed crim- son with pride and fear, for she knew that set expression of his face was not his natural one. The unfortunate batter and he shook 116 CLYDE FITCH hands, and with the exclamation, "He's go- ing to pitch in spite of it!" the audience cheered and applauded him. The score was three to four. One man had been struck out. There were three men on bases. "Low ball," shouted the umpire. Weldon braced himself in his box, and wiped some cold perspiration from his fore- head. He noticed that the linen band was tight around his fingers, and then forgot them entirely. "Ball one." "Ball two." "Strike one." "Ball three." "Strike two." "Strike three." There was a shout of encouragement, and a new batter came up. Two men were out. Would Weldon give out? Would the 117 A WAVE OF LIFE man on third base come in? The audience was again breathless with excitement. Those on the grandstand stood up. So did those on the coaches. Yet every one was still. Madge Synnett was trembling violently. The new batter took up his bat. The um- pire put on a mask and watched more nar- rowly. The catcher was crouched close behind the batter. "If another run is made in this inning," breathed Madge dejectedly, "and the score is tied, the game is as good as lost!" Madge's hands were like ice; Rita had hold of them. Weldon drew back and threw the ball right over the home-plate. The batter struck it straight. It came high over the pitcher's head, aimed for a spot between him and the center field. The man on third base started for the home-plate. There was a low mur- mur from the crowd. Weldon jumped and caught the ball in his left hand. 118 CLYDE FITCH The batter was out, and the game was won! Such shouts! such 'rahings! such tremen- dous clamor! Such a waving of color, and throwing up of hats ! Such a pouring forth of people from stand and carriage ! and such a weak, white hero as it was struggling against enthusiastic men who were deter- mined to carry him triumphantly off the field on their shoulders. Farnsworth managed to get a carriage to take his party home; for the excitement of the end had been almost too much for the girls. "I always do enjoy these games so much," Mrs. Synnett was saying, "and then it's so nice to be on the winning side. How brave Douglas Weldon was! I do hope he hasn't made his fingers worse." "I shall never come to another ball-game as long as I live," said Madge. "I think they are brutal." 119 A WAVE OF LIFE There was silence for a few moments ; then she exclaimed "Wasn't he magnificent!" Farnsworth left them at their door, but promised to return for dinner. Madge went straight to her own room, to get over her hysterical feeling by herself. She sat down in front of her bureau and had a general clearing out of all the drawers, and at the same time had a general clear- ing out of her heart and mind. When she had finished she felt rested, and calm, and happy to have reached a firm decision at last. She tried to think which of her dresses Douglas had admired her most in, but, not being able to remember his ever having men- tioned any one particularly, she put on the one that she thought he would like, and pinned on his bit of color she had worn that afternoon w r ith one of her little brooches. Then she went downstairs. 120 CLYDE FITCH Later, Farnsworth returned for dinner, as he had promised. Madge was unusually silent, and they all seemed to feel more or less the reaction of the afternoon. While they were at the table a messenger boy brought Mrs. Synnett an opera-box for Friday night from Mrs. Van Ostrand. Farnsworth promised to join them, and Mrs. Synnett said she would send word to Mrs. Norris, and ask Douglas Wei- don if he came in later, as she thought per* haps he would. When she said this she had to make an effort not to look at Madge. Weldon was not long in coming in; in fact, he arrived soon after they had gone to the music-room. He was quite himself again, and looking as unconscious that he was a hero in those women's eyes as an old heroic statue is. His hand was in a sling, and he seemed only to be ashamed and embarrassed by it. The girls waited and let Mrs. Synnett 121 A WAVE OF LIFE make the congratulatory speech. Weldon turned to Madge as soon as it was polite. "What about my bet?" he asked, looking handsome and strong and powerful against anything. Madge smiled honestly up into his face, and put her hand into his left one. "You've won both," she said. "Madge," he whispered, "come into the hall, where I can kiss you." Mrs. Synnett was watching them furtive- ly, but she was not yet certain. She had been suspecting they were engaged for the last week, but she could not tell, Madge was so peculiar, so different from other girls. Farnsworth was telling Rita some plots he had for stories. It was a way he had of telling beautiful and subtle short stories which he never wrote. He meant to, but, somehow or other, he never accomplished half he meant to do. He always felt a story so thoroughly as he told it, Rita used to think 122 CLYDE FITCH it was as good as going to a play to listen to him. He told her he would give her a plot for a long story and she should put it away in her head, as a present from him, and use it some time. He repeated the outline of a strong original story, and added a detail here and there. "But so many of your stories end sadly. Why?" "Because it is natural for some stories to be sad. There are always happy ones to read, too. It depends on what sort of people you write about whether your story is sad or happy. Your story, their story, must end according to their characters. If you write of people who would, according to their nature and conduct, mar their lives, and yet in your book show them to make them instead, your writing is false, and therefore valueless." "Ah, I see," she said. "I do not altogether disregard the advice 123 A WAVE OF LIFE my dear old father gave me to always end my novels happily, because, he said, he never recommended a book to any one to read that did not end 'all right.' " "What are you aiming at in your writ- ing?" "Well, at present I am working to have people see what is sweet and what is bitter in life, hoping they will see, besides, the wis- dom of choosing the sweet. I am not trying to teach, but I want to suggest. My aim in life if I dare to say I have one is to help people. If by my book I can pass honestly an idle hour, drive away, for a few moments even, a burden or a sorrow, with a smile, or tear, or thought, I shall feel my work has not been done in vain, so long as it accomplishes this by the true means." They talked on very seriously. Mrs. Syn- nett forgot she did not wish to interrupt them, and suddenly thinking of Mrs. Hedder's dinner, asked him if he were going. 124 CLYDE FITCH "No," he answered; "I'm afraid Mrs. Hedder didn't like me. I made a mistake. I was very enthusiastic over her perform- ance in the 'School for Scandal' last winter, and found she hadn't acted in it: it was the other leading amateur." Madge and Weldon came back from the library. Madge asked Farnsworth if he would play some accompaniments for her. He said he would with pleasure, somewhat surprised at the request, if they were not too difficult. She chose some music, and took up her violin and bow. She was sorry to have interrupted him and Rita, she told her- self, they had looked so very happy ; but she wanted to tell Farnsworth herself of her en- gagement. After they had been playing a few moments, she said, so low that no one else but he could hear, with the music "I wish to tell you something." "What is it?" he asked, looking up at her, and then back again quickly to his notes. 125 A WAVE OF LIFE "I'm engaged to Douglas Weldon." "Ouch!" exclaimed Rita. "Excuse me, but that was awful." Farnsworth was more careful, and the ac- companiment went on correctly, and Madge played, and waited. He was startled, and yet it was absurd for him to be so. He had expected it when he first met her, only some- how lately he had become used to not think- ing about it. It was a good match for her, but he was afraid they would not be happy. That was their risk, not his; yet he felt- without any reason, he told himself as if it was his too. Weldon could never be in sympathy with this wonderful girl. It did not occur to him in the light that Madge could never be in sympathy with Weldon. "Well, have you nothing to say?" asked Madge. Farnsworth was confused. "I beg your pardon," he said; "you took 126 CLYDE FITCH me by surprise; but surely I need not tell you I wish you every sort of happiness." They played on for some time without speaking again. Madge had been somewhat indifferent at first, but she finished the piece with feeling and beauty. There was some- thing humanizing in her playing: it was that which had always moved Farnsworth. When he rose from the piano-stool they looked into each other's eyes a moment as they had looked once before that day on the steps outside the house, and Madge said "That is the last time. You must never accompany me again." Farnsworth wondered what she meant. Weldon walked out with him when he went away. He knew Madge had told Farnsworth she said she was going to and Douglas felt that he must talk to some one, his happiness was so great. Farnsworth congratulated him, and spoke warmly of Madge. He liked Weldon, and, in spite 127 A WAVE OF LIFE of the difference between them, he could appreciate his character. "Am I not the luckiest man in the world?" the latter was saying. "Think of it, old chap ! Madge Synnett, who was always to me like one of the Muses, or all of them put to- gether, loving a great matter-of-fact sort of man like me! I'm just wild with joy. I don't know what to do with myself." Meanwhile, Madge was breaking it to her mother. She did it characteristically. "Mamma," she said, "prepare for a shock, but please don't say anything. I'm engaged to be married." "Oh, Madge! who to?" Madge laughed at the absurdity of the question. "You'd never guess," she said merrily. "It's Douglas Weldon." Mrs. Synnett, now it had come, could scarcely believe her own ears. 128 CLYDE FITCH "I'm so glad! It's just what I wished. When will it be?" "Mamma, dear, don't hurry so. I don't know when. The engagement is to be kept perfectly quiet for some time." "I knew it last Friday," said Mrs. Synnett. Madge laughed. "Why, I only accepted him to-night." "Oh!" Rita had come and put her arms around Madge and kissed her. She waited until they went upstairs together before she spoke. Then she said "Tell me all about it, Madge. I'm so, so happy for you!" And the two girls sat and talked for hours. Just as Rita had crept into bed, Madge called softly through the open doorway "Rita, haven't you anything to tell me?" "No," said Rita hesitatingly. "Really?" asked Madge. 129 A WAVE OF LIFE "No, not yet," answered Rita. "What do you mean by 'not yet'?" said Madge. "I don't quite know myself," said Rita a little mournfully. Madge could not sleep ; and several hours after their talk she heard an only half -sup- pressed sigh from Rita's room. She started to speak again, but changed her mind. 130 CHAPTER V THE Synnetts straggled down to break- fast, all late, and Madge the last. Each one was thinking of the same thing, and trying to talk of something else, while Mrs. Synnett worried about her younger daughter's breakfast, till Madge begged her please not to treat her as if she was an invalid because she was going to be married. She said although everything was as cold as ice she could manage to get along, as she wasn't ravenously hungry. They were speaking of sending a note to inquire for Weldon's fin- gers, when a message came from him for Madge. In it he said he was going to see her that morning, as business had called him sudden- A WAVE OF LIFE ly out of town. He would be obliged to leave that afternoon. "Oh!" murmured Rita sympathizingly. "That's too bad!" said Mrs. Synnett. "I wanted him to go to the opera with us." Mrs. Synnett knew he would have insisted on getting a carriage for them, and a car- riage was one of those expenses for which Mrs. Synnett had an especial antipathy. But she sat down at her desk and wrote a note to Mr. Algernon Bolingbroke, asking him if he would go instead, begging him to excuse the lateness of the invitation, as the box had just come; she knew he would, they were such old friends, etc. Madge had said nothing, but her forehead wrinkled. It was not so much that Douglas was going away, but it was the dreadfully matter-of-fact excuse of "business" which irritated her. He ought to have waited at least till they had been engaged a day be- fore he let anything that had to do with 132 CLYDE FITCH "business" take him away from her. She would let him see that she did not like it. But when he came her irritation vanished he was happy in such a grateful way to have won her, and so honestly, almost boy- ishly, sorry to have to leave her. She could not but realize a feeling of joy that this man loved her better than any one else in the world that he whom her mother and Rita greeted so warmly, whom yesterday thou- sands of people had admired and applauded, who to-day could boast of a countless num- ber of friends who loved him as a man like him can be loved, who probably had no ene- mies, and had never done an unkind or mean thing in his life this man had chosen her out of all his world, and preferred her love to the affection and admiration of all these others, and had intrusted his whole happi- ness the happiness of a big, splendid man to her small hands. It was something of a selfish joy of Madge's, the knowledge that 133 A WAVE OF LIFE she had what so many envied her the pos- session of, with the feeling that Weldon could protect her from everything: she did not realize that he could not protect her from one thing herself. He brought her a huge box of flowers of every sort, which Mrs. Synnett thought must have cost at least twenty dollars. There were enough to scatter all over the house; and Madge could not avoid a comparison between their meaningless profusion and the small bunch of white and blue violets Rita had worn yesterday, and which she had no- ticed still fresh on her sister's dressing-table when she came downstairs; but she excused the lack of a more delicate sentiment in Douglas, and told herself that a man who had his other qualities of character did not lose by the lack of this one. She caught the spirit of his great gladness, for her nature was always prone to sympathize with every strong emotion. She was as a reed through 134 CLYDE FITCH which the wind of any mood or emotion could blow some sound of melody. There was a contagion in his joy which she felt, and she bade herself stop thinking, and be satis- fied, and rest in the steady comfort of his unselfish love. Weldon stayed to lunch. Rita heaped the table with flowers, and wished Farns- worth would happen in. She wondered if he would think it queer if she sent a note for him to come. She decided he would, so did not write. Mrs. Synnett brought out a tiny bit of her own wedding-cake and put it among the roses in the center of the table. They all were inordinately almost fool- ishly elated. Madge was in the highest spirits. She called Douglas "Mr. Weldon" all through the luncheon, and flew from topic to topic in conversation, leaving behind her a trail of fiery nothings. She mimicked people. She posed like Mrs. Hedder, and recited "Little 135 A WAVE OF LIFE Miss Moffet" a la the suppressed school of Bolingbroke. She said she was going out that afternoon to buy something for herself and something for Douglas she didn't know what, but something. She felt she must spend some money. She had a little upstairs put by to pay her music-teacher with. She would spend that; she would spend it all. They laughed until they cried, and they were all hungry, and the laughter increased their appetite, and they ate of everything, much to the gratification of the flattered cook in the kitchen. Mrs. Synnett insisted on Wei- don's smoking at the table, and Madge lit a cigarette for him, and lit one for herself, which Rita rebelled against and Mrs. Syn- nett only tolerated because it was Madge who did it. Then they went into the library, where Rita and her mother discreetly left the other two, making some palpably weak excuse to 136 CLYDE FITCH leave the room, which only embarrassed them all. "Probably he'll lose his train," said Mrs. Synnett to Rita on the stairs. "Not Douglas," said Rita. "It would be awful if he did," said Mrs. Synnett. "Why?" asked Rita. "Why, I've sent and asked Mr. Boling- broke to go in his place to the opera." "Oh!" laughed Rita. "I really thought it was something serious. That wouldn't make any difference to Douglas." "No, I suppose it wouldn't," answered Mrs. Synnett. "Only I was thinking " But she kept her thoughts about the carriage to herself; she felt they were ideas with which Rita would not sympathize. Farnsworth spent the day writing on his novel and having a serious talk with himself. He commenced to feel a lack of accomplish- ment in his hero, that it was time for him to 137 A WAVE OF LIFE do something big to win the sympathy of the readers, and this suggested to him the need of his accomplishing something more him- self. From analyzing his hero he came to analyzing his own character. He felt the lack of force in it, the force which accom- plishes against all odds even against a cer- tain inability the force which makes suc- cess. He knew the greatest stumbling-block of his nature : it was its sentimental intensity, its excessive sympathy dangerous weak- nesses. "Sympathy with false sentiment," he thought to himself, "is worse than no sen- timent at all. Artistic temperaments, such as mine, are apt to become too nice and fine instead of great and true." He faced the need of his making more money, of preparing himself in a worldly way really to think of matrimony. He had never before thought much about marrying, but he had come now to believe it was the central point of the circle of existence to 138 CLYDE FITCH which the radii of years converged and from which they diverged. He believed now it was a man's duty to marry, if possible, some time. He stood out against his former theory that an artist should be wedded only to his art. He was by no means a man of theories, nor was he always loyal to those he did boast of. He maintained that kind- ness was truth, while Madge believed beauty was truth. Rita had no theories whatever, and he liked her all the better for that fact. The opera was "Siegfried," and the Syn- netts were there for the overture. Some of the regular holders or orchestra-seats looked up surprised: they were not used to seeing any one in Mrs. Van Ostrand's box before the middle of the first act at the earliest. Mrs. Norris was seated in one cor- ner, and was already taking mental notes, for the Sunday edition of her paper, of those who were there, and of those who were com- ing in, and who was with whom. She looked 139 A WAVE OF LIFE exceedingly handsome in pink, and her pres- ence seemed enough alone to fill the box, and would have, had Mrs. Synnett ever been known to allow herself to be kept in the background, and if the two younger women had not had beauty and strong personality enough to make them hold their own. Madge was near Mrs. Norris, and seemed to be more by herself than the others. Farns- worth, who sat next to her, was hurrying through a conversation with Rita : they were never together long now without getting an earnest talk about something. Mrs. Synnett was arranging herself so as to see and be seen. They received the first act apathetically, and just after it Bolingbroke came in, and, after greeting them all, sat down behind Madge. She never treated him seriously for a moment, and they entered immediately into a bit of bantering. Mrs. Synnett and Mrs. Norris went on 140 CLYDE FITCH with their social observations, which they tallied with such remarks as "Isn't that Mr. Manwarring in the Coles' box? What does that mean?" and "Mrs. Bender Smythe looks like a fright, doesn't she?" etc., etc. Rita and Farnsworth left the box for a stroll along the corridor. "Do you understand Wagner thoroughly? I suppose you do," she said. "I'm a Wagnerite, if you mean that, and am familiar with most if not all of his operas. I glory in them," said Farnsworth. "I enjoy them without altogether under- standing his music; but I'm going to Mr. Damrosch's lectures, for I know I must miss a great deal by not knowing them better. I'm afraid perhaps I enjoy the thoughts the operas give to me more than the author's own thoughts." "Have you ever been to Baireuth?" 141 A WAVE OF LIFE "No, but we're going the next time we cross." "I should like to be there with you." "Oh, that would be lovely! I don't mind saying that to you, because we're good enough friends to be honest, aren't we?" "Yes," he answered, "we are." They walked along until they came to a lounge at one end of the corridor, and there they sat down for a few minutes. Farns- worth was saying over to himself, "We are good enough friends." He had an impulse to speak out, to contradict her, to ask her if she was sure they were only friends. How could any one be sure? He looked at her sweet, fair face, so full of what we call, in default of anything else, soul he looked into her eyes, large and calm and tender and he asked himself how could he dare to love her. He did not know if it were love. It was not the sort of love he had given the women in his novels. It was more like wor- 142 CLYDE FITCH ship. He always seemed to be looking up to Rita Synnett when he thought of her. She seemed to meet his ideal of everything. He felt always purer in her presence. The thought of her as his wife awed him: it was the feeling of being in a holy place. He took off the sandals of social deceit with which he walked in the artificial paths of society, when he came into her companion- ship. There was none of that mad longing, that wild desire to possess her for his wife at all costs, which was filling now the breast of the man about whom he was writing in the pages scattered on his desk at home ; but all the diviner light of his life seemed to come from this little woman, bringing with it a sense of ineffable peace. He had not spoken, when Rita said "Let's get Madge. We ought not to have left her in the box. Bolingbroke is sure to talk to mamma, and Captain Galloway, of course, has joined Mrs. Norris by this time, H3 A WAVE OF LIFE and Madge will be lonesome. It must be horrid to have your fiance go away as soon as he is one." And Farnsworth led her back to the box. As they entered it, the music started. Bolingbroke had taken his place behind Mrs. Synnett. Mrs. Norris gave a final, some- what significant glance toward a tall, mili- tary-looking man in the orchestra, and settled herself comfortably. Rita and Farns- worth took their seats and turned their faces away from each other toward the stage. Madge smiled at Farnsworth. He leaned over and whispered to her that they had come back to get her. She shrugged her shoul- ders, and asked why they had not come sooner. Why did he want to come back after her? she thought. She did not know it had been Rita's idea. Was not Rita enough? Was it possible he had proposed and been re- fused? No; she was sure Rita loved him, 144 CLYDE FITCH only she was not sure Farnsworth loved Rita. If he did, why did he not propose to her? She knew he was not rich; but that made no difference to them, as he must know. It would not make any difference to her, with a man like Farnsworth. She started. This was the first time she had thought of Weldon since the opera began. She had forgotten she was engaged ; she remembered it now. And the music was rousing her deep- est self, her most dangerous instincts, filling her with vague longings, a great unrest, a strong emotion, which no thought of Douglas Weldon could satisfy or calm. Alvary was in splendid voice : some one said his wife and eldest child were in one of the boxes, and that may have the more inspired him. Madge clasped her hands together and leaned forward, listening to the Sieg- fried theme, as it rose and died away with a last faint bugle-note among the flickering shadows of the painted forest. She turned A WAVE OF LIFE her face toward Farnsworth, and in a few moments he turned and looked at her, moved by some irresistible impulse. He felt again the magnetism of her eyes, until she turned back to the stage first. Farnsworth had not lost a note of the music, but there was a dif- ference: it was almost as if he had heard it more clearly and had been more wholly lost in it. When Madge turned away, he fell back again into his former state, except that he felt, in certain sympathy with him, Madge Synnett by his side. When the act was finished, even Mrs. Syn- nett had nothing to say: they all had felt the music too strongly to dash on the in- stant into the cold water of an ordinary re- mark. Before any one had spoken, the responsibility was taken away from them by the entrance of a couple of visitors, the first Captain Galloway. Madge asked Farnsworth if he would take her out. He said of course he would, with 146 CLYDE FITCH pleasure; and, as the others were talking among themselves, they slipped out quietly. "I wonder if Mrs. Norris is going to marry him," said Madge, meditatively. "She has certainly waited long enough, if she is going to." "I think she is wise to have waited, if she marries the man she wants to in the end." "What do you mean by that?" Madge asked, somewhat peculiarly, thinking of her- self and Weldon. Farnsworth looked up from the carpet, made somewhat uneasy by the tone of her voice. "Nothing," he said. Madge was not sure whether she believed him or not. "Shall you practice what you preach?" she asked. "No, I suppose not," he answered. She spoke of the music: "I could feel how much you were enjoying it." A WAVE OF LIFE "Yes," he said, "and all through this act I was conscious of the sympathy of your enjoyment. What is it, Miss Madge?" "What is what?" "This sympathy between two people, as there seems to be between you and me." "I do not know," said Madge, "if you don't." They passed other couples walking in the corridor, some of whom bowed, but they no- ticed no one. No matter where it was, if he was walking with Madge, Farnsworth never saw anything or anybody else. "I chose my seat purposely," said Madge, "to be by you. I can always enjoy music better with a sympathetic person; but if there is an unsympathetic person between you, you might as well be in different boxes." For just an instant Farnsworth wondered if the girl was trying to flirt with him; but he repelled the suggestion as unworthy of both her and him. She was too evidently 148 CLYDE FITCH in earnest. The same expression was on her face as when she held her violin the expres- sion which carried him away from the real into the imaginative world. They both were thoroughly under the in- fluence of the music, and could discuss emo- tions in a manner which would have seemed ridiculous, even to them, under more ordi- nary circumstances. It is a dangerous time when two like people reach this stage peo- ple of a like temperament. It is called the artistic temperament, the intense tempera- ment, the sentimental temperament by some people ; it is all the same thing. Those who haven't it do not understand it, often do not believe in it. Those who have it, sooner or later learn to know its wide extremes learn to know that they can enjoy the more, as they can suffer the more in turn; learn to know that as the capacity for bliss is greater in them, so is the capacity for sorrow. Rita Synnett had a purely artistic tem- 149 A WAVE OF LIFE perament, but her life had been one of com- parative self-denial, of considering herself last, and her nature had received a check. It was normally sympathetic, sweet, and helpful. But her sister's had been allowed free range, and Madge was accustomed to give way to her moods and emotions without re- gard to the comfort or convenience of those about her. She was morbidly sympathetic. All the instincts of her artistic temperament were intensified. Farnsworth had been accustomed to give way to his moods and his impulses because there was no one in his immediate personal neighborhood to suffer by his doing so, save himself. He had, however, the restraint of a certain manliness, which had always helped him. The sympathy between two people like Madge and him can only be half understood. "How different even appreciative people are!" said Farnsworth. "Mrs. Norris for 150 CLYDE FITCH example: she is enjoying the opera, I am sure, without feeling it the way that we do." "She likes it because it's big and grand and thrills her. She likes all the instruments. She likes anything big. Did you ever notice her rings, and her pins, and the pictures and furniture in her house? all big, but good, too." There was another pause between them. Conversation between these two was always by fits and starts. "Mamma's enjoyment is manifold and in- tricate," said Madge. "She wouldn't care for the music alone, nor the acting without the people, nor the people without the opera- house, nor the opera-house without the deco- rations. Mix these all up in some sort of harmony, and mamma is delighted." "Yes," said Farnsworth politely. Some- how or other, he was not as interested in Mrs. Synnett as he had been. He thought of Rita, and he wanted to propose going A WAVE OF LIFE back to her, but he did not like to suggest it : he felt that Madge would resent his doing so, and would think herself not sufficiently interesting. The truth was, she was almost too interesting. When he was with her he seemed to be shut off from all the rest of the world. "Why did you dislike me so much when we first met?" Farns worth asked, breaking the next silence. "I don't know that I really did," answered Madge. "You certainly appeared to." "Yes, but I don't think I even then suc- ceeded in deceiving myself. I wanted to dis- like you. You did not like me." "I should not say that. You did not give me a chance to find out if I did or not. You always shunned me." "Ah, but a girl can't put herself forward and force a man to like her or not : he must make his own chances." 152 CLYDE FITCH "But you devoted yourself to Weldon." "And you to Rita. I heard from Douglas this morning." The conversation was broken again. Was it possible he was jealous, Madge wondered, that he should have brought up Douglas's name in the way he did ? She did not know ; and what difference could it make to her if he were? She thought the conversation had better end. "I think it is time to go back," she said. He offered her his arm without a word. He was wondering what she had meant by it all, and what he himself had meant by taking it so seriously. He did not under- stand Madge Synnett to-night any better than the evening he met her. He did not understand himself to-night much more. The musicians were just finding their places. Several men were taking leave of Rita. Farnsworth saw them, without notic- ing who they were: he was arranging 153 A WAVE OF LIFE Madge's cloak at the back of her chair, and he found himself as nervous over it and as anxious to do it right as if he were arrang- ing the cushion of a queen; and there had been a perceptible tremble of Madge's shoul- ders as he leaned over them. Rita hurried her cavaliers off, fearing Farnsworth might be jealous or hurt, or think she enjoyed their company as much as his. Mrs. Norris was sending Captain Galloway away, and asking him to time the famous kiss in the last act for her. Mrs. Synnett was wondering how long the next act was : it was getting late. The rest of the opera passed without inci- dent. Lili Lehmann was as popular with the Synnetts as with every one. Madge said the one thing that made her resigned to be- ing who she was, was that she couldn't be Lili Lehmann if she wasn't. When the prima donna was applauded, she watched Farnsworth's hands, thinking what wonder- 154 CLYDE FITCH ful artistic hands they were, and smiled approval. Once she leaned over and whispered "How you men must envy Alvary!" "I don't know," he answered. He thought at that moment he envied Weldon more. Then, ashamed of his thought, he turned away from her, lest she should read it in his mind. In the confusion of putting on wraps and getting out of the box, Madge said to Farns- worth "Douglas was to bring me to-morrow aft- ernoon to hear 'Siegfried' again. Of course he won't be able to now, and he has sent me the tickets. Rita can't go: she has an en- gagement. Will you come?" "Thanks, I'll be delighted to." He was putting her into the carriage, and, when he turned to help Rita, Bolingbroke had just secured that privilege. He shook hands with her instead, and said good-night, 155 A WAVE OF LIFE thanked Mrs. Synnett, who was making ex- emplary efforts not to yawn in his face, for the pleasure she had given him, crossed swords with Mrs. Norris, and looked at Madge. "At two," she said. "All right: thanks." He nodded to Bolingbroke and called a cab. He felt strangely excited entirely too much so to go to Delmonico's with Boling- broke. "How Madge Synnett appreciates music!" he thought, bracing himself back in one side of the cab to resist as much as possible the cobble-stoned motion. "Her en- joyment of it was so deep it intensified mine. What a wonderful, beautiful girl she is, and how inexplicable everything she does ! How she will love when she really loves! I don't believe she loves Weldon. I don't believe yet she will marry him. I knew when I saw her she would have a history. Such a love 156 CLYDE FITCH as hers would be wasted on Weldon; and she will feel this, sooner or later, herself. She is a woman who would make any sacri- fice for the man she loved, and would demand as much in return; and she would not be dis- appointed if his nature was sympathetic." He himself had already felt the responsi- bility of resisting 1 her influence even in the purely friendly footing they were on. His characterization of people in his novels had taught him to observe his own as well as others' actions, and find out the whys and the wherefores. He had been talking to himself in the cab in a half-whisper. When his brain was ex- cited he often thought half aloud. He looked out now at the streets for it was raining and shivered . He leaned back and shut his eyes. He could feel the touch of Madge's hand upon his arm, and the influence of her eyes looking into his. He thought of the difference in the sympathy of the two sisters. 157 A WAVE OF LIFE Rita's came like the sun and chased the clouds away. Madge's played through all his moods and lit them up, like lightning in a blackened sky. Her temperament was more like his than Rita's was. The effect of her sympathy was to be with him in the same state of mind rather than to help him out of one into another. It intensified, al- most exaggerated, whatever the feeling was, but at the same time it gave the company which both misery and joy love. She never rested him, but on the other hand she filled him with a wonderful stimulus and urged him on mightily. There was a lack of some- thing somewhere, for though, perhaps, under the influence of her mind he did spasmodic- ally bigger work, under the calm encour- agement of Rita's personality he wrote more evenly and well. Madge fired him with ideas which he never carried out. Rita prepared the way for the embodiment of his own ideas 158 CLYDE FITCH which he had not hitherto been able to for- mulate. The four women in the carriage were un- usually silent. Each one had her own espe- cial thoughts to occupy her, except Mrs. Synnett, and she was half asleep. It was something unusual for Mrs. Norris to be silent, but the others did not notice it. Rita was thinking that, music and all, she had found the first act the most interesting, and wondered what Madge had meant by two o'clock, and why she had so monopolized Farnsworth. She did not think it was right, for Weldon's sake. Madge w r as going over in her mind care- fully every bit of conversation between Farnsworth and herself, regretting she had said some things, and wishing she had said certain others. She resolved never again to talk so seriously with him ; she felt it was not wise, and she felt it was not being exactly true to Douglas ; and then she shut her eyes, 159 A WAVE OF LIFE and thought how long it would be before two o'clock to-morrow. Mrs. Norris was thinking if she would dare tell Madge what was in her mind. She thought she would like to, but somehow she did not feel that Madge was in a receptive mood that night: so she was silent. If Mrs. Norris had not been at the time so engrossed in her own personal affairs, she would doubt- less have noticed more the absent-mindedness of the Synnetts. As it was, she did not notice anything; and of course she did not know of Madge's engagement to Weldon. She had noticed casually that Madge and Farns- worth had been together the greater part of the evening, and was glad to see it. As Madge was getting out of the carriage in front of their house, her foot slipped on the step, and her ankle turned. She fell, but when they picked her up she said she could walk without any trouble, and went into the library. She said she was more alarmed 1 60 CLYDE FITCH about her dress than she was about her foot, for doctors were cheaper than dressmakers. But before she was ready for bed her ankle was swollen and painful, and they sent for their physician. Mrs. Synnett meanwhile brought smelling-salts, cologne, Pond's Ex- tract, and other restoratives, and with her myriad suggestions and queries drove Madge almost distracted. She was won- dering if she would have to break her en- gagement for the opera to-morrow. Rita in her pity for Madge's accident had for- gotten all about her remark to Farnsworth when he bade them good-night, and her monopoly of him during the greater part of the opera. When the doctor came, they found it was only a slight sprain, which he said would keep Madge in the house a few days that was all. Mrs. Synnett, who said her nerves had received a great shock, marched off to her 161 A WAVE OF LIFE room with the salts and cologne and several other of the bottles she had brought for Madge, to use herself. Rita offered to sit up with her sister till she went to sleep, but Madge thanked her and said she would rather be alone. In a little time they were both asleep and dream- ing dreaming of one man. And he was sitting at a thickly-strewn desk, a blank sheet of paper before him, his head in his hands. He was thinking of one of these dreamers of one only. And miles away, in his rather cheerless hotel chamber, another man was saying, "God bless her!" 162 CHAPTER VI MADGE was in the best of spirits the next morning. Before she was fair- ly awake she knew there was something to open her eyes for, and she thought of her afternoon engagement with Farnsworth. Then she remembered her ankle. Of course the opera was out of the question ; but there was no reason, to her mind, why she shouldn't get down into the library and receive Farns- worth there. She was sure Douglas would not mind : she did not want to be home alone, and Saturday afternoon Rita always went out with their mother to pay visits. Madge sent along her visiting-cards with them. She said it was a case of an old say- ing in a new frock, that two was company and three a crowd, and no one wanted a 163 A WAVE OF LIFE crowd of Synnetts coming to their house, and Rita was the oldest and the polite one in the family, so she was the one to go. Mrs. Synnett said of course Rita must go ; and so poor Rita went. She hated paying these duty-visits, but she did not believe in refus- ing her mother anything that she was able to do with only inconvenience to herself. Of course, Madge thought, it was not to be expected that she would spend the after- noon alone. She would write Farnsworth and ask him to bring some of his work to read to her. He had promised he would, once ; she would remind him of that promise now. She sent off the note at the same time with a short letter to Douglas, and spent the rest of the morning in a lounging-chair in her own room, playing odds and ends of music on her violin. She came downstairs to luncheon with a cane. Rita told her it was so becoming, she 164 CLYDE FITCH had better remain convalescent for the rest of her life. It was only a slight, sprain ; all the swelling was gone, and there was no pain ; but she kept a rubber band about her ankle. At the table Rita said her mother would have to take her cards too that afternoon, so she could stay with Madge. "Mr. Farns worth is coming to read to me," said Madge. In spite of herself, she felt conscious. She looked Rita straight in the face, but she felt her own expression was hard. Rita was silent. "You'd better be careful," said Mrs. Syn- nett, eating a conserve while waiting for the salad. "Douglas will be getting jealous." She said this as if it was something funny. Madge felt she must explain: "We were going to the opera together. Douglas, you know, sent me two tickets, and you and Rita both said you couldn't go; so 165 A WAVE OF LIFE 1 asked Mr. Farsworth to, last night. But as I can't go myself now, and as he had al- ways said he would read something of his, I thought this would be a good chance. You see, Rita, you mustn't monopolize all Mr. Farns worth's readings." And she smiled pleasantly, and Rita tried to feel it was all right. Mrs. Synnett was glad. She said it would keep her from being bored. She was sorry she couldn't stay and listen too, but really these calls must be made; as it was, she didn't see how they were ever going to get through them all. She wished so many peo- ple wouldn't take the same day. She wished society people would go back to the old way of not having "days." You could pay so many more visits when people were apt to be out and you didn't have to stop and see them. Rita came into the library, hunting for her card-case, just before she and her mother 1 66 CLYDE FITCH went. Madge was sitting there, trying to read, and feeling a bit conscience-smitten. She called Rita to her. "Do you mind?" "No, dear, of course not," answered Rita ; but it was a sorry little smile on her face which Madge saw. "If you do," she went on, "I'll excuse myself and not see him." "Why, Madge," answered Rita, "I've no right to mind Mr. Farnsworth coming to see you; and I don't." But she did; and Madge knew it. Rita turned and looked at her sister as she went out of the door. "How beautiful she is!" she thought. "How could any one help loving her?" Madge was dressed in a gobelin-blue vel- vet gown, cut after an old picture in the Louvre. It was a favorite dress, and she wore it on any and every occasion. It was perfectly plain, and dragged in the back, 167 A WAVE OF LIFE while a bit of silver-brocaded petticoat made a bashful appearance at one side, and the narrow sleeves came away down over her wrist. She wore about her neck a string of beads and a cross of lapis-lazuli. There was half an hour still to wait before she could expect Farnsworth. She took out a letter of Weldon's which she had received and read that morning and had stuck in her belt when dressing. She thought she would re-read it ; but she remembered everything in it which was not very much, for Douglas was not a letter-writer and so changed her mind, and opened a book instead, and sat forgetfully twisting her letter into a tight roll like a curl-paper. When Farnsworth came, her face lighted up with splendid animation. He had heard from the servant at the door how nearly well she was, and he entered the room rather jauntily. He stopped in open admiration before her where she sat back in a great arm- 168 CLYDE FITCH chair, leaning against a heap of soft shim- mering pillows of delicately-toned brocades and silken stuffs, with one exquisitely-slip- pered little foot on a cushion on the floor. "You look like a crown-princess of yes- terday who has forgotten her frame," he exclaimed, "and you must let me offer homage." He knelt in front of her in playful gal- lantry, took her hand, and kissed it. He felt the fingers quiver underneath his lips, and his own heart suddenly beat thicker. He rose up rather hastily, and tried to cover with some conventional inquiry after her ankle the strange alarm and embarrassment he felt. Madge answered him quite calmly, but the fingers of her hand were closed tight, and she was straining her eyes out of the window, so hard that tears came in them. They both felt the necessity of making some effort to save the afternoon from being spoiled. To- 169 A WAVE OF LIFE gather they threw off the unnatural tension of the first few moments. She laughingly told him about her accident. "When I got out of the carriage," she said, "I did not get out of the frame of mind I was in when you left me. I was 'in the clouds,' and of course I never dreamed of coming down from them by an iron bracket. I was brought back to the conven- tional world and my ordinary self rather suddenly, and was winged in the descent. Isn't 'winged' the proper term?" "I'm not a sportsman, so I can't tell. I suppose there is a moral, that we must not go wandering off up in the clouds where we don't belong, for we are sure to come back home some time, when we must get out of the carriage and had better be mind- ing the step." "Yes, or a simpler one than that for me: not to think seriously any more" she caught her breath "in carriages." And they both 170 CLYDE FITCH laughed nervously, as if they had escaped something. Farnsworth asked after Mrs. Synnett and Miss Rita. Madge told him what they were doing, and then asked if he had brought his book to read to her. "Yes," he said, "I've brought several parts which I wish to read to you and hear your opinion of." He took up a package of papers on the table, and began making a selection. Madge leaned back, smiling for very hap- piness, eager to have him begin. She thought him very beautiful peculiarly so for a man. His hair curled slightly, and was brushed off his forehead on either side. Such a fore- head! it reminded her of the Severn draw- ing of Keats. And his voice was a softly- modulated, flexible one, a musical voice, which seemed to have as many octaves as a piano, and which could express any and every emotion. 171 A WAVE OF LIFE "I will keep perfectly still," she thought, "and give myself up to it all while he is reading; for I want to enjoy it. Besides, I shall probably never hear him read again this way." "First," he said, "I'm going to read you all the references to the character of my heroine, along in the first part of the book." He read portions here and there, looking now and then toward Madge, who nodded her head approvingly or half smiled, but sat perfectly still, bent forward, with her two hands clasped on her knee. She did not speak as soon as he finished, but after a moment said "It's perfect." "I am glad you think so." "Does she know it?" "Who know it?" "Rita." "Know what?" 172 CLYDE FITCH "That you have taken her for your heroine." "I haven't." But, as he said it, for the first time he knew that he had. It was a revelation to him. It was true he had unconsciously taken Rita Synnett for his heroine. He wondered if she had found it out for a moment, but knew she would not have discussed the character so openly with him if she had. Besides, she was too modest, too self- depreciating, to recognize her own character truly drawn. He wished Madge had not made the discovery: it would make it hard, next to impossible, to read the rest to her. "Didn't you do it purposely?" asked Madge. "No; I did not know I had done it until you told me." She was glad of that. It made her feel that she had a certain power, or at least influence, over him. A sudden question A WAVE OF LIFE flashed across her mind. Was he ignorant, too, of the fact that he loved Rita, if he did? Could she open his eyes to that, too? She should not try. "Whom does your heroine marry?" "No one." "Why?" "There was no one worthy of her." "But she was in love with some one?" "Yes, with an ordinary man utterly un- able to appreciate her." "Read me about him." He knew it was too like Douglas Weldon, and he knew, besides, she would exaggerate the likeness. He did not dare to read it. "I didn't bring those parts with me," he said. She knew he was not telling her the truth, but she did not know whether he had chosen Douglas Weldon or himself for his hero. She felt sure he had drawn one or the other. CLYDE FITCH She started to ask whom this man did marry, if not Rita, but she changed her mind. "Well, you have something else with you, then, to read?" she said. "Yes," he answered; "oh, yes." Then he went on to read to her other passages from his book, watching her face as he read, while improvements and changes to be made for the better flashed across his mind. As for Madge, she had given herself com- pletely up to the influence of the time-being, as she had decided to do. For her, at pres- ent, the library was the world, and she and Farnsworth were in it together, and life was those passages from his novel which he was giving her. It was all very wonderful, but she accepted it without questioning; she knew if she questioned, everything would tumble down. She was feverish in her sub- dued excitement, and the stem of a rose with which she was playing had dried in her 175 A WAVE OF LIFE feverish fingers, and the petals were droop- ing. "I want to read you now," said Farns- worth, "the only real love-passage in the book." He read her the few paragraphs he had written that night about two months ago and afterward cut out. It was the expres- sion alone to himself of a man's strong over- powering love for a woman bound by the ties of matrimony to another a twofold con- fession of weakness and strength the own- ing up to himself of the fact, and the earnest, stern resolve that the woman should never know, and that his life should not be wasted, but be put to some good use in helping others to what happiness he could. It was well written, there was no doubt about that. The language was glowing and true, and brought conviction with it. Farns- worth was carried away now as he had been that first night when he wrote it. He felt 176 CLYDE FITCH again the absorbing intensity of the man's love, and the manliness of his nature, the unselfishness of his passion which rescued both him and the woman from the utter wretchedness and failure in which a weaker character might have involved them. When he had finished, there was perfect silence for several moments. Farnsworth leaned his head on his hand. He looked up at Madge. She was looking at him with tears in her eyes, and an expression which hinted at a suffering which was sweet. He started to go toward her, as in a dream. He would have taken the beautiful vision into his arms, he would have kissed the tears away from her eyes, but she rose and faced him, and then, unconscious of her sprain, turned and walked to the window. It brought Farnsworth to his senses. He made a tremendous effort to compose himself. 177 A WAVE OF LIFE "You ought not to stand," he said. "You will make your ankle worse." She sat down on the window-seat without a word. "I see," he went on, determined not to forget himself again, and to help her, "that you feel this as strongly as I do. I am almost sorry I read it." "Don't say that," she said; "and don't think me too weak, will you? Probably the ankle had something to do with it." And she tried to smile. He sat down in the seat she had just left, after arranging a couple of pillows behind her. "I had thought of cutting this out," he went on. "Why?" she asked. "Because if I keep it in it will influence me to change my ending. I rather want to change the ending, though. I want to make it end happier." 178 CLYDE FITCH "But I thought you said once that the end- ing of a book was inevitable?" "It is inevitable. And I feel if I make a good strong man out of my hero some hap- piness must and will come to him, if he doesn't miss it through some weakness or other in his character." "How could happiness come to him?" "Why, if he behaved as he starts here to do, will he not become more worthy of the love of my heroine? And could not in time a love for her replace this first misplaced passion of his? something deeper, some- thing purer?" "No, not if his first love was worth any- thing, if it was as strong as you have made it." "You don't think so?" It was strange how she influenced his opinion : if she did not altogether impede its current, she turned it a little aside. With Rita he always argued 179 A WAVE OF LIFE his point, if he believed in it, till he won her over. "Besides," Madge continued, "do you think this second changeable love of his would be worthy of her patient, unaltering affection?" "No; of course I suppose he never would be worthy of her," Farnsworth vacillated) following Madge's lead. "He couldn't be and have fallen in love with the other, a mar- ried woman, first. Not that I blame him al- together for that. When a man falls in love with a married woman, some blame must be attached to the woman herself." He hesi- tated a moment, and then went on: "But then, if my heroine loved him, unworthy as he might be, would not happiness follow? The past can be forgotten, can be outlived." "I think you are wrong. I think it can- not be. It would shock you, probably, if I told you what I thought." "No," he said; "I know what you mean, 180 CLYDE FITCH and I have thought of that. But if he and the other woman should go away together I cannot believe that would be happiness." "Oh, you are here," said Rita, coming into the room. "How do you do?" to Farns- worth. "Mamma wishes to know how you feel, Madge." She felt very uncomfortable. She recog- nized the fact that the two people before her were intensely moved and wrapped up in what they were talking of. She had come into the room with as much stir as possible, but until she spoke they had not seen her. She saw the manuscript in Farnsworth's hands: it was on a different block of paper from the manuscript he had read to her from. Then he was reading a new work to Madge : he had not read to her for over a week now. "Don't let me disturb you," she said to Farnsworth, who had risen and was offering her the big chair and cushions. "I can't stay, thanks." She spoke in a strained little voice. 181 A WAVE OF LIFE She turned to Madge for a reply to her question. There had been a fierce flash of anger in Madge's eyes, but it had died away now, and instead had come a revulsion of feeling. She did not want Rita to go. "Oh, I'd forgotten all about my ankle," she said, "it's so much better. Mr. Farns- worth has been reading me parts of his novel. Isn't it fine, Rita? Stay and hear it." "I've finished now," said Farnsworth; "but don't go, Miss Rita." "I I can't stay. I promised mamma to write some notes for her." And, wondering, she left them, puzzled and sad. "I must go now," said Farnsworth. "I'm afraid I've stayed too long as it is." "Yes, I'm afraid you have." Madge spoke in a sort of stage whisper. She stood up, leaning heavily against the back of a chair. "It is my fault," she added. 182 CLYDE FITCH "No! oh, no!" said Farnsworth, gathering up his papers. "Good-bye," he said, but did not offer to take her hand. "Good-bye," she answered steadily, and watched him go, and listened till she heard the street door close behind him. Then she saw a small leaf of his manu- script which he had dropped. It lay on the floor before her, and she recognized the first sentence of the love-message he had read to her. She seized it in her hands, kneeling down, and covered it with kisses, and, crouched there on the floor, buried her face in the cushions of the chair. She was distraite all through dinner, and went early to her own room. The harder she tried to think and reason, the more con- fused her thoughts grew. A telegram came for her from Weldon, but she did not open it: she let it lie on her dressing-table. She 183 A WAVE OF LIFE knew it was from Douglas, who had proba- bly heard from her of her accident. She rang and had her violin brought to her, and played to herself for an hour or more. At times while she played the tears rolled down out of her eyes, and at others she almost smiled, and finally she grew quite calm. "It has come," she thought. "I must only find if it has come too late, or not." To- night was the first time she had owned to herself that she loved Cyril Farnsworth, loved him better than joy or sorrow. It was the sentiment of her girlhood for the un- known musician, intensified and enlarged by all the added strength that comes with womanhood. She had to consider her duty to herself, her duty to Douglas, her duty to Farns- worth, and her duty to Rita. If Farnsworth loved her as strongly as she loved him and as she thought he had shown that afternoon, 184 CLYDE FITCH she did not believe he loved Rita or ever would. She had accepted always so much from Weldon that she did not seem to hesi- tate at this new sacrifice of making him give her up; but she could not bring herself so easily to sacrifice Rita. She wished she knew how much of himself Farnsworth had put into his novel. She could not blind herself -to the fact that he had been devoted to Rita. Dared she believe that he had loved Rita at first, and that he now came to her with a stronger, mightier devotion? Or ought she to look at it in the light of her stepping in between her sister and Cyril, inspiring a passion which would give way, if she withdrew herself, to a calmer love, which would bring both her sister and this man real happiness? In that case she would be married to Douglas Weldon, or else She was in a measure bound to Douglas Weldon, and Cyril Farnsworth knew that. But they were 185 A WAVE OF LIFE not married; the tie could be broken: surely Cyril did not think it insurmountable al- ready ! He had not tried to break it ; that she must acknowledge. He might have thought it dishonorable. Her own notions of honor were somewhat hopelessly mixed. She heard Rita come upstairs and go into her room. A few moments after she crossed the hall with her cane, and joined her. She* found her sister sitting by the window, with her face close against the glass. She was looking at the deep-blue sky and thinking how far away from her everything seemed, and how long it would be before morning, and how sad and lonely she was. She looked up, startled, when Madge came in, and a little afraid of her. "Rita," her sister said, sitting down by her side and putting her arm around her, "talk to me. I want you to talk to me." "I haven't anything to say," answered Rita. 186 CLYDE FITCH "But surely you see I am in some trouble?" "I don't know. Oh, Madge, Madge," and she turned and hid her face in her sister's neck, "why must you take him away from me? You had Douglas; wasn't that enough?" Madge could not speak. She rocked her- self to and fro on the bench, with Rita held tight in her arms. Finally she did speak. "Rita," she said, "I'm so weak, and I know I'm cruel; but look at me, and tell me, does he love you? do you know he loves you? has he told you he loves you? If he has, I prom- ise, I promise you I will give him up." "I cannot," sobbed Rita. "I cannot." Her tears stopped. "He has never told me in so many words; but you must have seen, Madge, how until after your engage- ment with Douglas he was always with me. Then I began to see less of him. I was glad to have you friends, and he was just as nice 187 A WAVE OF LIFE to me, of course, only you always seemed to make him go to you before long. I don't say you did this purposely, Madge, but I don't think you've acted rightly by Douglas, nor does it seem to me that you can love me much. If you loved Farnsworth, then why did you accept the other?" "What makes you think I love Farns- worth?" "Don't you?" Madge did not answer. "Has Cyril told you he loves you?" "Yes." Then, after a pause, "No," said Madge. "Then, oh, Madge, perhaps he doesn't." Madge smiled as if she did not believe this. "Give him up; give him back to me," pleaded Rita. "Perhaps he does love me, after all. Men are not like us, and it's hard to know. I think you almost magnetise him. It's something in your eyes. I feel it some- times too. I would do anything in the world 188 CLYDE FITCH for you, Madge; you know it; all my life I've done what few things I could to save you trouble or to give you pleasure; but I cannot, and I will not of my own accord, give up Cyril Farnsworth, nor let you take him from me if I can help it." Madge's face had grown hard during the latter part of her sister's speech. "You shall give him up," she said, seizing Rita by the wrists and holding them so tight- ly that Rita almost cried out from the pain. "How dare you speak so to me? He doesn't love you ; he loves me. Has he not shown it? Are you blind?" Rita bit her lips to keep from crying as Madge's fingers tightened again about her tender flesh. The anger suddenly died away, as it had that afternoon in the library, and Madge dropped her head in shame. She fell on her knees on the floor in front of Rita, and cov- ered her sister's hands with kisses. 189 A WAVE OF LIFE "I am wicked and cruel," she said "false to Douglas, and unnatural to you. Forgive me, Rita; tell me you forgive me." "I will forgive you," said Rita listlessly. Forgiving Madge did not bring Cyril back to her. "I am so miserable, so wretchedly un- happy," Madge said in a voice choked with tearless sobs. "Whose fault is it, Madge?" Rita an- swered, her sympathy for her sister numbed by what she had just gone through. "I will give him up to you. I will not see him willingly until I am a woman again and Douglas Weldon is back. And of Douglas you must help me to become more worthy." She stood up and kissed her sister's fore- head, and then, leaving her still by the win- dow, she went into her own room, wholly overcome by the force of her emotions. But she slept calmly all night. Cyril Farnsworth went straight to his 190 CLYDE FITCH home from the Synnetts. He had barely time to dress for a dinner engagement. He thought for a second of sending a messenger with some excuse, but changed his mind. He was particularly lively and witty during the dinner, and kept both his vis-a-vis and his neighbor laughing most of the time. Farnsworth could talk easily to three women at once, and make each one think the other two were boring him. He collapsed somewhat when left alone with the men, and took his leave immediately after rejoining the ladies in the drawing- room, on the plea of a headache. "Too much inspiration on that new novel," said his hostess pleasantly. "Or too little," he replied. "We will be the judges of that, when we are allowed to read it," she said. As soon as he had left the house his pale- ness and evident illness, his brilliant wit, his personality in dress, and his devotion to Rita 191 A WAVE OF LIFE Synnett, were generally discussed for two minutes. Once out on the sidewalk, he looked at his watch. It was after eleven. A bright full moon smiled cynically down upon him and whitened the broad pavement of the avenue. He felt dizzy, and as if he were not walking straight, although he had taken but very little wine. It was a cold night, and there was enough motion in the air to flicker the shadows of the bare tree-branches. There seemed to him to be motion everywhere, and everything seemed to be unsettled; even the stars twinkled in and out, and now and then a cloud passed indecisively across the face of the moon. Farnsworth walked far up the avenue, and then crossed over on to the boulevard and walked on, he did not know how far. He walked till the moon began to grow gray and the eastern hues of dawn to creep into the sky. The coming sunrise filled him with an 192 CLYDE FITCH emotion which threatened to unman him, and he turned and hurried home. He fell asleep in the broad daylight, men- tally and physically exhausted, having re- solved only upon one thing the need to re- sist the mad infatuation for Madge Synnett, and the imperative necessity of his not seeing her again, unless he heard her engagement to Douglas Weldon was broken. In the meantime he would go away some- where. 193 CHAPTER VII . IT was noon when Farnsworth awoke. He had not intended going to church, so took no heed of the hour. His sleep had done him but little good, for he was still tired and restless. He lay quietly for some time, thinking of Madge Synnett. He could even then feel the influence of her personality, and this influence was in- creased tenfold by the fact which he could no longer be blind to that she loved him. That he loved her he had never dreamed until yesterday; and now, out of her presence, he doubted if he did. When he was with her there had been no questioning, but her beauty and sympathy had cast a spell upon him, and he would have laid down his life for her if she had asked it. Now, out of 194 CLYDE FITCH sight of those eyes which inspired him with the sparks of genius, away from the possi- bility of contact with those fingers which thrilled him with an inexplicable mental ecstasy, separated from that presence which was always in sympathy with his own varied self as are the notes of a common chord in music, he found strength and time to ques- tion. Was this irresistible attraction, which came suddenly like a sweet delirium upon him and swept away his power of reasoning, and even his power of will was it love? It was not what of late he had come to think of as his ideal love ; that he knew. Was his ideal out of his reach, too high for him, and was this that especial form of love which was given to natures like his? Or was it possible that a man was capable of both kinds, and a choice allowed him? Was he capable of that other form, his ideal? He thought of a comparison he could make, but 195 A WAVE OF LIFE he refused to, even to himself. Over and over and over again in this world the man is blind because he will not see. He dressed himself and had his breakfast, thinking over the same ground again and again. When he stood still and thought only of Madge Synnett, and pictured her to his mind in all her beauty, her great eyes mourn- ful with the secret they must not look, her lips trembling with the love they must not falter, he could barely keep himself from rushing that moment to her, in spite of her engagement to Weldon, in spite of every- thing. He felt at such a moment that work was nothing, joy and sorrow nothing; there was only one woman in the whole universe, and that was she. And when he forced him- self not to think of her, but to think of both their lives, of hers and his, and what the work was that he wished to do, and what his ideal of love and life had always been, he cursed himself for his weakness, and what he then 196 CLYDE FITCH called his passionate sentimentality, and thought only of escaping Madge's influence. That was the final outcome of his mental struggle. He recalled thankfully that noth- ing yet had been said by either that was abso- lute or irremediable. Indeed, she hadseemed to recognize, as well as he, the impossibility of their being anything more to each other than they then were. He did not believe, somehow, that it was entirely on account of her engagement to Weldon; for engage- ments were broken every day. But he would not be the means of breaking Madge Syn- nett's. He felt again, and imperatively too, thank God, the need for him, before it was too late, to make a stronger fight against the morbid sympathy and oversensitiveness of his nature. He would go away somewhere for a while, as he had decided the night be- fore, until everything was calm and Douglas Weldon was back. In love, when a man turns coward he is apt to be lost : he does not 197 A WAVE OF LIFE often run away and live to love another day. He sat down at his desk and looked over his last night's letters, which were still un- opened. There was one in a woman's hand- writing which he did not know. The en- velope was a big square one, and the letters of the address were large and striking. The postmark was Cornwall-on-the-Hudson. He opened and read it through several times, with an expression of surprise and bewilder- ment; then he laid it down and laughed. "It makes me feel better," he said aloud to himself. "There is happiness in the world, if we only know where to look for it and how to enjoy it. I feel as if I had been living in a hot-house and this letter had taken me into an old-fashioned garden. It makes me want to go and see Rita Synnett ; but I must not. I should tell her everything. I always do. I will accept this invitation, however; it is just what I wanted to do go away some- 198 CLYDE FITCH where. And I like that woman: she is true and splendid. I will take the afternoon train to-morrow." He sat down and wrote a note, and posted it when he went out later. He rang the bell at the Synnetts' to in- quire how Miss Madge was, but refused to go in, rather to the maid's surprise, and went away, leaving some flowers for the young ladies. He had stopped at his florist's on his way; he had chosen a few sprays of jasmine, which the man happened to have, for Rita, and, after a moment's hesitation, some queer purplish orchids for Madge. He planned to write to Rita from the country the next day, explaining his absence from town. Madge Synnett had found a letter too that morning, which had come in the late deliv- ery the night before, directed in the same hand as Farnsworth's. She wondered what Mrs. Norris had gone down to Cornwall for. 199 A WAVE OF LIFE She read Douglas's letter through first a kind, loving, clear letter that his business was nearly arranged, that he would be back on Wednesday, that he felt he must be quite an old man now, it was so long since he had seen her, and a few other things that are quite appropriate for a personal love-letter but are hardly interesting enough for indis- criminate publication. Madge felt that she did not deserve the letter. She then read her Cornwall note partly through, with an exclamation of surprise and delight. "Mamma! Rita!" she said, "do listen 'to this." "Who is it from?" asked Mrs. Synnett. "Oh, Mrs. Norris. I can tell the handwriting from here." "No, it isn't; it's from Mrs. Galloway." "What!" exclaimed both Rita and her mother. 200 CLYDE FITCH "Yes. Listen, and I'll read it to you: " 'My DEAR MADGE What do you think I've done? I've married that brave, good- looking captain. Did it Saturday morning, and only made up my mind the night before. What do you think of that? I'm fifty years old to-day! I'm only sorry I didn't do it sooner. The world has seemed twice as big and beautiful since, and not a lonely spot in it. We've come down here for a week, and we want a few people in the house with us and have a jolly time of it all around. There has been a splendid snowstorm, on which a delicious sun is sparkling. (When I came into the breakfast-room this morning the captain pointed out of the window and said there were my wedding jewels all dis- played.) There will be splendid sleighing. You are to come Monday morning, and I shall send for Mrs. Synnett and Rita later on in the week, when some family relations who are here leave us. The train at which I shall 2OI A WAVE OF LIFE go to meet you we shall go to meet you- leaves the Forty-second Street ferry at eleven o'clock. Love to all. " 'Ever yours, " 'MARGARET GALLOWAY. ' 'Margaret Norris has disappeared. Lost child. Madge, do you think the children will call him father? I want them to, so much. You know or you don't know, but you might as well, now that Mr. Norris was not a good man to them or to me.' ' "How funny!" said Mrs. Synnett. "How lovely!" said Rita. "Isn't it splendid!" added Madge. "Shall you go?" asked Mrs. Synnett. She didn't exactly understand why she should not have been asked to come first, and the girls to come later. Rita watched her sister, and something like a smile came into her face when she heard her say 202 CLYDE FITCH "Of course I shall go. My ankle won't keep me; and when Douglas comes back I will get her to ask him down." She looked lovingly at Rita. "But Mrs. Nor Galloway doesn't know you're engaged," said Mrs. Synnett. "I know it ; but she likes Douglas, and will be sure to ask him when she knows he has come back; and, anyway, I would be quite willing to suggest it to her." "Why don't you announce your engage- ment down there?" suggested Mrs. Synnett. "I'm not ready to, yet," replied Madge, turning a little sharply. "I don't know but you are right," added her mother. "You don't want the world to think you have jumped at the chance." Madge simply raised her eyebrows and looked at Rita, but said nothing. She made her ankle an excuse not to ap- pear in the music-room that night; she stayed in the little library, and flirted with young 203 A WAVE OF LIFE Osprey most of the time, in a somewhat un- successful attempt to amuse herself. He was a very boyish, somewhat conceited young man, but usually he was not monoton- ous. He confided to his mother, on their way home, that Madge Synnett was a "stunner," and if it wasn't for the differences in their ages, and her lack of "shekels," he would "go in for her." His mother listened with retro- spective pride, he was so like, she thought, what she was at his age; she had always at- tracted both the old and young. But she should keep him out of the way of that de- signing girl and her mother. "Willie" must marry a fortune. It would never do for him to marry a poor girl. He was a born gentle- man, non fit. His was one of those aris- tocratic natures that sometimes spring up in the alien soil of America, for whom labor of any kind was not intended. He was being educated; this was his second year in the 204 CLYDE FITCH Freshman class. Mrs. Osprey did not be- lieve in pushing bright boys. When the two girls were alone together, Rita remarked on Farnsworth's absence dur- ing the day. "I wonder why he was not here?" mur- mured Madge. "I wonder," echoed Rita. It was to her as if no one had been there. "Rita," Madge spoke after a few mo- ments, "I never knew you to let your flowers go without water before. Your jasmine is lying here almost dead." "Is it?" said Rita blankly. "Somehow I don't seem to care any more." There was another silence between them. "I think I will go to bed," said Madge. "Good-night," was all that Rita answered. Mrs. Synnett went with Madge to the ferry. She had been trying to have a talk with her alone for several days, but some- 205 A WAVE OF LIFE how had not been able to manage it. She wanted to ask her if she knew what was the matter with Rita the last few days. "Is there anything the matter with her?" asked Madge. "Yes, there is; and you must have seen it. Don't pretend you haven't, Madge. I'm afraid it's about Mr. Farnsworth ; and if she won't take me into her confidence I don't wish to force myself," said Mrs. Synnett, "but I do hope nothing has come between them." "Come between them?" whispered Madge, half to herself. "Madge, don't echo my words. I thought you knew something about it. Have they had a quarrel?" "No, I'm sure they've not had a quarrel." "I'm glad of that. Probably it's only some of her ideal notions about marriage, and it will be all right in time. I'm sure they love each other; only I do wish she 206 CLYDE FITCH would make more of a confidante of me. No one knows one's children better than their mother, or can better sympathize with them ; but you and Rita I don't say this bitterly, I only state it, for it's true you and Rita never seemed to realize this with me." She waited for some answer, but, as she received none, she continued: "I think I may say I made the match between you and Weldon. I planned it, and hoped and prayed for it. I saw what a husband he would make for- you, dear, and I hope you will be very happy, and I know you will be." There was a little tremble in Mrs. Synnett's voice, she was so happy for Madge. She did love her so fond- ly; and she loved Rita too. "I saw how it would be between Rita and Mr. Farnsworth from the first: in fact, I might as well own up to you that's the reason I asked him to the house" this somewhat triumphantly. "I knew he would appreciate her." "Mamma dear," interrupted Madge, 207 A WAVE OF LIFE "people can overhear us. You're a dear, sweet mother, and we both know it ; but don't you think we'd better talk about something else?" "I shall go mad," she thought, "if she doesn't stop." "I just want to tell you," Mrs. Synnett added in a lower tone, "that several people have asked me about Rita and Mr. Farns- worth, and said they had heard they were engaged : so you see I can't have drawn too much from his attentions." "What did you say to them?" asked Madge. "Oh, I always contradicted it flatly, of course, but in such a way as to make them sure there was something in it." The ferryboat had reached the slip. They were just in time for the Cornwall train, and, after a hurried good-bye to her mother, Madge found herself alone with her thoughts in a seat in the train. There were a few tears under her veil, 208 CLYDE FITCH but, on the whole, she felt happier than she had been for some time. She felt she was in the act of giving up Cyril to Rita, and experienced a degree of satisfaction in hav- ing done what was right. In the excitement of leaving town she felt stronger than she really was, perhaps, and surer of herself. But it was a step in the right direction, and she knew it. One step, however, is only a tiny portion of a long journey, and one action a small part of a whole character. To be sure, she felt that if an accident should happen, as accidents did on railroads, it would not so very much matter. Her future life was a riddle which she was not sure she wished to solve. And meanwhile she was nearing her journey's terminus; and Rita was thinking what a brave, strong girl she was, and how happy she had made her, and how happy she must make herself, in the end. One thing Madge was determined on, and 209 A WAVE OF LIFE that was that she would not be the skeleton at the wedding-feast of her friend Mrs. Galloway. She told herself she must learn to enjoy others' joy and to live altogether in the present. One never knew what might happen. So, when the brakeman shouted into the car his version of the name of her destination, Madge nodded smilingly back to a tall, handsome couple on the station plat- form, and showed them a moment later an apparently happy, perfectly unreadable countenance, as they shook hands warmly, and she said "Allow me to kiss the bride." "And you may kiss the groom too," laughed Mrs. Galloway. "I share every- thing with my captain." "Aren't you both awfully proud?" Madge added, as they seated themselves in the two- seated cutter. "You ought to be." "We are," smiled Mrs. Galloway, "and I've rechristened our place 'The Barracks,' 210 CLYDE FITCH and the captain says I'm the Daughter of the Regiment." They all laughed. Madge felt invigorated and lifted out of herself. The snow lay thick and glittering everywhere, like diamonds, with the air deli- cately sharp enough to cut them. There was no wind, and the bare branches of the trees had little caterpillars of snow stretched lazily along the tops of them. Their own bells and those of other sleighs jingled in a pleasant, pure comedy way, and the road was solid, and the horses went at a fine pace. Madge wrapped her fur about her neck tighter, and buried her face for a warm in- stant in her muff. They passed some small boys on the road trudging along with their big-mittened hands hanging down like hams at their sides, and their woollen scarfs, as red as their fresh young cheeks and noses, wrapped round and round their necks just below their merry mouths. Madge drew in a long breath. 211 A WAVE OF LIFE "Oh," she exclaimed, "this is delicious!" "Isn't it splendid? I can't see why I. never came down to enjoy it before," said Mrs. Galloway. "I suppose it was that dreadful newspaper. I hear there's an aw- ful fight after my place." She and her husband laughed merrily. "She has confessed," said Captain Gallo- way, "that the sword is mightier than the pen." "There," his wife replied; "if I hadn't re- signed, I should put that in. Let's don't go straight to the house," she added. "We have plenty of time." And Captain Galloway turned up another road. "I am enjoying this so much," said Madge. "I must tell you who are to be with us," Mrs. Galloway said. "That reminds me," interrupted Madge. "Let me tell you first that mamma and Rita send their love, and mamma suggested to 212 CLYDE FITCH me the advisability of letting you know ac- cidentally that she had no engagements for the end of the week. I think she really wants to come down very much. Now go on and tell me who are here." "Well, Alice Lester, because I knew you liked her, and her brother that is, he is to come down every afternoon; he must be in his office during the day; he's a splendid fellow, has killed bears in the Rocky Moun- tains, and all that sort of thing; he isn't flirt- ing with any one, and so makes himself gen- erally agreeable, and is a great help. Mrs. Hedder, and Algernon Bolingbroke en con- sequence, and they're arranging a little play to give in the ballroom at the end of the week. Lieutenant and Mrs. Leeds, the captain's younger sister and her husband such dear, jolly people, who have commenced to call me Sister Meg. I've asked Mrs. Osprey down for one day, and said she might bring along her protection. You know she said I 213 A WAVE OF LIFE wanted to get married and couldn't; and I wanted her to see with her own eyes, else she won't believe it. There are several others coming down to spend a day, and oh, yes, I forgot; I've asked that Mr. Farns- worth whom you introduced to me at your house, whom I liked so much." Mrs. Galloway was watching her young companion. She believed there was some- thing between these two, and she was going to help it along. Madge was something more than unpre- pared for this. A wave of strange feeling seemed to sweep over her whole body. She felt it from her head to her feet. Mrs. Gallo- way saw a certain change of expression, and told herself she was right, that there was something between them. There was a rut in the road, which shook them up considera- bly, and when they were settled again Madge was quite composed. 214 CLYDE FITCH "What a jolly crowd!" she said. "And when does Mr. Farnsworth come?" "He comes upon the next train. We'll send this cutter right back for him. What are you throwing away those beautiful orchids for, Madge, you extravagant child?" "They're useless now," said Madge. "I didn't want them any longer." When they arrived at the house they were welcomed by Alice Lester and Captain and Mrs. Leeds, who were just going for a walk. Madge refused to go with them, on account of her ankle, and went upstairs to her own room to rest until lunch-time. She threw herself on the bed with her hat and wraps still on. "There is a fate in it," she whispered to herself. "Here I've come straight to the one person I left town to escape. Why struggle any longer against it? If Cyril Farnsworth loves me, why should not he and I be happy together? By what right are we to be sac- 215 A WAVE OF LIFE rificed for the others, if the sacrifice won't bring them happiness? and I know it won't/' She sat up on the edge of her bed. All her good work was being destroyed, all she had accomplished the night before undone. A feeling of this came over her. "There's no use in my exciting myself and going all over this again, like an hysterical girl. I've decided once for all. I have made a promise to Rita, and I made a promise to Douglas before that, and I will keep them both." She propped up the structure of her duty with this resolve, but again sentiment weakened a side, and it threatened to topple, as she added the thought "And I do not know that Cyril does love me. It's a bad sign that Rita should have been able to make me doubt. What made Mrs. Galloway look at me when she spoke of Farnsworth? Can she suspect anything? No ; of course not ; if she did she would only 216 CLYDE FITCH think it all right, and try to throw us to- gether. She must not do that. I wish she knew about Douglas." She was taking some of the things out of her hand-bag. She put Weldon's photo- graph on the table. "There," she said, "you are to be my safe- guard. I wonder if Mr. Farnsworth knows I am here, or if he will be as surprised as I was. Come in," she said, in answer to a rap on the door. It was a maid, to tell her luncheon was served, and to offer to unpack her boxes, which had just been brought up. Madge gave a few directions, a final touch to her hair, a questioning look at herself in the glass, and went downstairs. Farnsworth had been prepared in some- what the same way that she had been. He w arrived while the ladies were in their rooms, and had learned from Bolingbroke besides all the details of the little comedy to be 217 A WAVE OF LIFE played Friday night, when Mrs. Hedder would surprise them all, really surprise them, by doing something totally different from anything she had before attempted, and if successful would do before "The Lady of Lyons" at the charity performance at the Lyceum Theater on the 30th besides this, he had managed to learn who were in the house. "Oh," Bolingbroke said, "besides Mrs. Hedder and ourselves, there are some army people, relatives of Captain Galloway awfully jolly, you know, but of course not at all intellectual; Miss Lester and her brother delightful, both of them, though she's not much good as an actress; and I believe that fascinating girl, Madge Synnett, was to have come this morning." "Did she?" asked Farnsworth. "I believe so, but I don't know surely," answered Bolingbroke. "Mrs. Hedder and I have been rehearsing until just now." 218 CLYDE FITCH Farnsworth was already thinking hard ; he would leave to-morrow or the next day; he would find some excuse, without letting her know that he was running away from her. They must meet as people on the best and gayest of terms; that was the only way for both of them. He wondered if Mrs. Gallo- way had told her he was to be there. They met in the breakfast-room, with every one else. He had intended making some conventional remark, but he could not. They shook hands, and he passed on to Mrs. Hedder, who shrieked a welcome to him from the other end of the room. But in that one moment they both knew that each had been surprised. It did seem to be a very gay party of peo- ple. Real happiness is always more or less infectious, and Captain Galloway and his bride were full of joy in a beautiful big way that left no one, as it were, out in the cold. Madge, with that power which she had be- 219 A WAVE OF LIFE fore made use of, gave herself entirely up to the surroundings of the present moment, and Farnsworth, in his efforts to appear merry and at ease, forgot in the happiness of the others that he was not what he seemed to be. They were in no hurry to leave the dining- room; and the women stayed while the men smoked after the last course. Finally, how- ever, they began to break up. Mrs. Hedder and Bolingbroke took Miss Lester into the ballroom for a rehearsal, and Lieutenant and Mrs. Leeds went with them. Captain and Mrs. Galloway took the two children out for a sleigh-ride before going to the station for Mr. Lester. Madge and Farnsworth were left alone. Madge hesitated as to what she should do. It would be foolish to excuse herself, and it would be a confession of weak- ness in her own eyes. Somehow, nothing seemed actual to her. It all seemed a dream, 220 CLYDE FITCH and had seemed like one since early morn- ing. "I thank you now for the orchids,'* she said. "They were an odd color, weren't they?" "Very." "It's a pleasant surprise to find you down here." Madge looked up at him sharply. How dared he speak to her in such a common- place way? "Oh," she said, "please don't be conven- tional with me." Farnsworth was wondering what had be- come of the orchids. He knew he must not ask. There was a silence between them, which they both felt the absolute necessity of breaking, without the ability to do so. The harder Madge tried to think of something to say which would be ordinary but not inane, the more impossible it grew for her 221 A WAVE OF LIFE to say anything. The silence became un- bearable. "How long do you stay?" she questioned. "I'm asked for a week." Madge waited as if she expected him to say something more. Then, thinking only of what it would mean to her if he should re- main the whole week, she said "But you won't stay?" "Why not?" he asked. He had decided not to, but he thought it best not to tell her so. She must not know he was running away from her. He hid his weakness, from an unconscious fear that if she knew it he would not be able to in- spire her with strength. It occurred to him now that this was the opportunity to im- press upon her that he acknowledged no strained relations between them. He knew safety for her, and for him too, lay in her believing this. He must force her to ignore their last meeting and everything that might 222 CLYDE FITCH have resulted from it. His answering ques- tion to hers was unkind, but he felt it nec- essary ; his own unkindness hurt him as much as it did her: so he looked away from her, and said "Why not?" But his appearance of strength only mad- dened Madge. If he had been weak, per- haps she might have been stronger; but it stung her to find him so true to her and himself. It made her feel her own lack of faith to Douglas, and also made her doubt again the love of Cyril for her. She thought that if only their position could be reversed she would appear to a better advantage in his eyes, realizing that she would in her own. She had a strange confidence in her own ability to be the strong one, and all the time grew weaker. And yet, again, with the won- derful perversion of her nature, his strength and manliness increased her love and admira- tion for him. It was at these moments that 223 A WAVE OF LIFE she sympathized fully with Cyril's own struggle ; but invariably these moments were replaced by the other, stronger feeling. She felt once more she must know if he loved her. "Cyril Farnsworth," she said, rising, "can you ask me that?" Again she looked at him with wide-open eyes. Again Cyril read in them the love and passion with which they brimmed. Again he drank in, with his spirit, the sweetness that her lips but tremblingly withheld. He exerted all his strength and power of will over himself. He held his arms crossed tight behind his back. A thought that had hammered at his heart before took possession of him. He tried to speak it to tell her they had been flirting together, and that it was time to stop. Cruel as it would be now, it would be kind in the end. But he could not do it. The fatal sympathy between them held him back. He doubted if she would 224 CLYDE FITCH believe him, and if she should he dreaded then her hatred. At the crisis his weakness was uppermost, and he failed. He stood silent before her. He raised his eyes and let them tell the truth, and before them Madge's dropped. "I see, you will go," she said, and left him stupefied, wondering how much he had done and undone, and how, in spite of everything, this had happened. Madge went to her room, shut herself in, and spent a couple of exhausting hours with herself. She held Douglas Weldon's picture tightly in her hand, and scribbled Rita's name all over a piece of paper on the table by which she sat, as if these things helped her. Just before she went down to dinner she sent word she would like to see Mrs. Galloway a few moments. "It is the one thing to do : it will be the best protection I can have against myself and him. He will see I'm not too weak to do what I decide is best or 225 A WAVE OF LIFE right, and he may stay on if he likes. We will not be likely then to be thrown to- gether." When Mrs. Galloway came in, she tried not to look hard, for she did not want her friend to know she was less happy than she herself. "I want to let you into a little secret of mine," she said, "first, before any one else. I am engaged to be married to Douglas Weldon. And I thought perhaps you would ask him down. He is coming back to town on Tuesday night or Wednesday." Mrs. Galloway was very much surprised; it rather upset a little plan of her own, too; but she remembered that she had surprised everybody and that she did not have a monopoly on surprises. Besides, she had always liked Weldon exceedingly, and then altogether she began to think it was just the thing, after all. It must have been Rita Farnsworth liked, and she had been so taken 226 CLYDE FITCH up with her own affairs of late she had not noticed the direction matters were taking at the Synnetts'. At the same time that she thought of these things, she remembered Weldon had a lot of money and Madge had none ; that he was strong and matter-of-fact, and Madge over-sensitive and delicate; that he would probably bear with any amount of flirting on Madge's part, and never dream of flirting himself; and that he was gener- ous and true: so she kissed Madge, and told her she had not the least doubt it was made in heaven along with hers. She said she was so glad for her that she even felt happier than before something she had supposed an impossibility. She was delighted, too, when she found she was to announce it at dinner that night, and said they would all drink her a "rousing bumper." And Madge was satisfied. No one else was surprised besides Mrs. 227 A WAVE OF LIFE Galloway. Other people had been expect- ing this for some time. Mrs. Hedder said Madge would make a very effective bride, and her mother would probably give her away, which always seemed to add a little novelty to a wedding scene. They drank her health, and Weldon's, and Captain and Mrs. Galloway's, and their glasses clinked, and their laughter mingled. They all talked at once, under the excite- ment of the jollity and the wine, and the servants, looking on, thought how happy every one was. Madge was following the laughter and repartee, and absolutely not thinking. But Farnsworth was thinking in spite of it all. He felt they were now completely separated, and with the belief that she was lost to him irretrievably came the increased longing for her, the rash desire to call her his own in face of everything. Oh, men! oh, children! it is always the 228 CLYDE FITCH moon, the beautiful, silvery, changing moon, that we cry for. Life puts her fingers on our lips, touches our hand, and says, "Thou shalt not," and straightway lips grow wish- ful, hands stretch out grasping, and we say, "Why not? We will." 229 CHAPTER VIII BREAKFAST, Mrs. Galloway told them the night before, was a "mova- ble feast" and "come as you please." She said she never knew when she went to bed what time she wanted to get up, but when she was ready she appeared, and she had always found breakfast there. It seemed to be a sort of supernatural gift on the part of her servants. A perfect morning had the effect of bring- ing most of the party together before ten o'clock. Madge, expecting when she had retired for the night not to sleep a bit, had on the contrary slept splendidly in the bracing atmosphere of the country, and awoke refreshed and rested. She felt almost as if she were already mar- 230 CLYDE FITCH ried to Douglas, since the announcement of her engagement to him. She was glad in the morning that she had announced it. It only seemed to her that Farnsworth had taken it rather coolly: of course he had known it before, but still there was some- thing different between a public and a pri- vate engagement. She did not think Farns- worth was moved easily, or rather that he showed it when he was. The previous aft- ernoon was the only occasion she could re- member when he seemed to have entirely for- gotten himself. She had been moved more easily and more often than he which was not as it should be. She asked herself, while dressing, if it was possible that he had been flirting with her; but she would not believe that ; she could not believe that, remembering his eyes as he looked into hers yesterday. Only, she would give worlds to know how much he really cared for her, even now. She felt sure of 231 A WAVE OF LIFE one thing, that he would not marry Rita unless he loved her. Suppose, then, he did marry Rita: what would it prove? Would it prove that he had never loved her Madge? Absurd! If he never truly had, would he dare believe then that she had really loved him, as she had only too plainly shown ? This would be insulting to her, and to Wei- don. But to look at it in that light was to face her own conduct toward Douglas, and this she had not the heart to do. Was it possible that a man could love two women at once? She wished she could stop think- ing about these things: it never did any good : it always only confused her, and weak- ened her in the end. She made up her mind that when Douglas came back she would have an honest talk with him. She would explain to him just how much she loved him, if he would let her, and just how much she did not, if she could do it delicately. If still he wished to marry 232 CLYDE FITCH her, she was ready. She went so far as to experience some pleasure in the fact of how much it would please Weldon to learn she had announced their engagement. Another thing she was determined on, and that was to treat Farnsworth differently. She would like to puzzle him a little about herself, as she was puzzled about him. She had finished her dressing by this time, and went down to the breakfast-room feeling quite safe, with Douglas coming to-morrow and every one in the house knowing that she was going to marry him. She was the last one. Some had finished, and were looking out of the windows ; others were still sitting by the table, talking. It was another perfect day. The sky and the earth together were like a great flawless turquoise set in bleached ivory, only here and there the dazzling sun on the crusted snow lighted it into the colors of mother-of- pearl. 233 A WAVE OF LIFE Madge was greeted with a burst of good- humored raillery from them all. Alice Lester was the last. "You've a letter from him, Madge, and we're all dying to hear what he says." Madge blushed, and took up Weldon's letter. "Oh, come, you must read it aloud," said Bolingbroke. "Very well," answered Madge. "Listen: " 'Honored lady' " There was a chorus of "Oh!"s. Madge was hastily reading through the letter, which was a short one. "Go on," urged the others. "'Yours respectfully, D. W.'," said Madge, laughing. And Lieutenant Leeds said "Quite proper. Exactly like mine." Whereat Mrs. Leeds was visibly affected. After she had finished her breakfast, Madge joined one of the groups at the win- 234 CLYDE FITCH dow. Mrs. Galloway was walking down the path with the two children. "Where is she going?" Madge asked. "Nowhere," some one answered. "She said she would take the children for a bit of a stroll and get her morning's rouge on." "Have you ever noticed how splendidly Mrs. Galloway walks?" asked Madge, turn- ing around, and finding Farnsworth just behind her. "Really you don't seem to no- tice how she does walk, but while you're admiring her carriage she 'gets there.' ' Farnsworth smiled, and said he had no- ticed it. He thought he had never seen Madge look more radiant: she looked like a different girl from yesterday. "Let's put on our wraps and go out to Mrs. Galloway and the children," she said to him. "A little walk won't hurt my ankle." She did not wait for a reply. "Good-bye," she said to the others 235 A WAVE OF LIFE in the room. "We're going to meet our hostess." "Oh, it isn't fair," cried Mrs. Hedder; "you're engaged, and you're going off with the only eligible young man." "Come," said Bolingbroke, "that's hard on me." "It's your own fault," laughed Mrs. Hedder. "You've been a bachelor so long, you're as ineligible as if you were mar- ried." "Oh," exclaimed Madge, as she stepped off the piazza and breathed in the cool, fresh air, "it's like drinking pure soda-water, isn't it?" It was slippery, and Farnsworth offered Madge his arm. She accepted it, but only touched it lightly, so that he hardly knew her hand was there. They laughed and chatted in perfect good faith, and stood together for a moment, praising the day and the view. One of the children, a little girl, came up to 236 CLYDE FITCH Madge and slipped her small hand into her muff. Madge stooped down and kissed her. The child stood on tiptoe and whispered to Madge, pointing to her mother "Have you seen her big captain?" "Yes," whispered Madge in return. "Isn't he nice?" exclaimed the child. "Yes, indeed he is," said Madge emphatic- ally. "Well," whispered the child proudly, "I'll tell you something. He's our father." Then they strolled on back to the house. Later, when they were all together in the big hall, Mrs. Galloway came in with a set of plans and arrangements to scatter them. The three who must rehearse must get it all through with in the morning, because they were going down to the skating-pond of a not distant neighbor in the afternoon, to skate, and to have tea in a little ice palace afterward. Lieutenant and Mrs. Leeds had to pay some farewell calls, which also must 237 A WAVE OF LIFE be done during the morning. Captain Gallo- way and herself were going to meet Mrs. Osprey and her son, who were coming on the noon train. There was a cutter and the captain's own horse at the disposal of Farns- worth and Madge Synnett. "Now," she said, "we have military disci- pline, and every one must obey. Douglas Weldon is coming to-morrow and Mrs. Syn- nett and Rita Friday. There's the schedule, time-table, carte du jour, and list of attrac- tions of The Barracks." Madge's first thought was that she must get out of driving with Farnsworth in some way ; but while she was trying vainly to think of any excuse she changed her mind, think- ing she was not afraid for herself, and that if any one was to disarrange Mrs. Gallo- way's plans it was for him to do so. Besides, they had spent the morning so far in the pleasantest sort of way, and why shouldn't it be finished as it had been begun ? Her im- 238 CLYDE FITCH pulse was to go, and impulse was her deus ex machina. Farnsworth said nothing. Perhaps it was because he wanted to go. While they all stood in the hall the cutter was driven up in front of the door. Madge went upstairs to get an extra wrap, lest she should be cold driving. In her own room she hesitated an instant. She knew she ought not to go in the cutter with Farnsworth. She tried to think of some excuse to send down- stairs which would not arouse suspicion. She felt a foreboding that more depended on this moment than she knew or could realize. She also knew that she was strangely happy in the company of this man, and the danger of that happiness to herself only lent an extra pleasurable emotion. She was determined to go. Never in her life had Madge Synnett learned to act contrary to her longings, and it was too late to begin now. She left the room without having looked once toward her 239 A WAVE OF LIFE dressing-table, where Douglas Weldon's picture was, purposely. They were all waiting to see them off, and wondering why she was so long. There were several witticisms made about Weldon, and Mrs. Hedder promised to tell and warn him. Mrs. Galloway said she would be an- swerable for his willingness. Just as Madge stepped into the sleigh she saw a little frozen bird in the snow. She stooped to pick it up, but changed her mind, as the poor thing was already dead, and left it lying in its great, cold, white grave. But the sight had moved her pity. All her earlier bonhomie seemed to have disappeared. Her hand as it touched Farnsworth's, getting into the cutter, trembled as it had before the aft- ernoon he kissed it, and startled Farnsworth again, and made him stumble as he took his seat. The people stood on the piazza, laughing and shouting to them. The two in the sleigh 240 CLYDE FITCH shouted something back. Alice Lester made a clumsy snowball and flung it aimlessly after them, and with a sound of bells and crunching snow they were off. "I'm almost sorry," thought Mrs. Gallo- way, "it's not Farnsworth instead of Weldon; but perhaps he is better suited to Rita." Mrs. Hedder led the way to the ballroom and the rehearsal, and Lieutenant and Mrs. Leeds started down the path, taking the chil- dren with them. Lester had gone back to town and business on the early train. Meanwhile, the two in the cutter were gliding swiftly over the snow. To neither did the beauty of the day appeal any longer: they were wrapped up in their two selves, and saw nothing when they did not see each other. They went on for some time in silence. Madge was not wishing herself back now; she was morbidly enjoying the pleasure of 241 A WAVE OF LIFE going at a swift pace over the shimmering road with this man, they two out of reach as it were, for the time-being, of the whole world. It was a dangerous channel for her thoughts to lie in. And Farnsworth, taking the first turning, not knowing or caring where it led to, was letting his imagination run riot with his better sense. All his gaiety, too, had disap- peared, but he felt uneasy and restless. They came suddenly on a beautiful view of the river. He pointed it out to Madge, and she echoed his exclamation of wonder. Once she shivered. He looked at her quickly, and asked "Are you cold? Shall we turn back?" "No," she answered, "no." Ajid she re- turned his gaze, and smiled at him a little pitifully. There was a line between his eye- brows that was not always there. Farnsworth was struggling mightily with himself. All the feeling of yesterday had 242 CLYDE FITCH come back to him. Again he felt influenced by every breath she breathed. He was try- ing not to give himself up to the enjoyment of a terrible delight that the ride was giving him, Madge Synnett here by his side, racing against the wind and perhaps the world. The horse was a magnificent animal, and sniffed the morning air with as much evident joy as they experienced, bounding on over the snow like a racer. For a while they made an effort to talk, but their conversation was in bits, and so forced or broken as to be almost ludicrous, and again they were silent. They took no heed of time. Madge was uncontrollably happy and wretched at once. It was Farnsworth who finally broke down the barrier between them. "Madge," he said, "I cannot stand this. I must take you back." He turned reso- lutely up a cross-road as he spoke. "In spite of all honor and manliness, I shall forget 243 A WAVE OF LIFE Weldon and yourself, and tell you what I must not." Madge did not answer, but a great throb of joy seemed almost to take her breath away from her. He did love her, then ! Well, why should he not say it? Who was Weldon, or any one else, to say he should not? Fate said he should. Fate had thrown them to- gether until it was too late to take them apart. She felt this, but she could not tell him so. "Forgive me, Madge," he said, "but I am suffering." "Suffering!" she cried, a note so full of pain it seemed to beat against his heart and wet his eyes with tears. "My God!" he said, "and you too suffer? Then you do love me?" "Love you!" repeated Madge, in a voice that despised the feebleness of the word which it was forced to use, a voice that filled 244 CLYDE FITCH the syllable with meaning and burst it in its passionate excess. "Love you!" she said again, and bowed her head. He waited a moment, and then he turned to her. "Look at me, Madge," he said. Her eyelids quivered like the wings of a little fledgling, and then she uncovered the windows of her soul, which bade him enter and see. Farnsworth looked into them, and saw what he had before only half believed, and in them too saw the reflection of his own. Every pleasurable emotion he had ever ex- perienced seemed crowded into one. It was, while he gazed, as if he were listening to the sublimest of music, and looking at the most perfect painting that ever hung behind an altar. It was as if he breathed in perfumed air from flowered deserts and drank am- brosial nectar from fabled fountains. She was as beautiful as a dream, and as real. 245 A WAVE OF LIFE Slowly his head dropped till his lips touched hers. The horse made a sudden start and turned violently to one side, frightened by a dark bunch of withered flowers in the road. The snow had drifted there, and the steel-shod hoofs of the horse broke through the crust, and before Farnsworth could obtain control over him, the horse, thoroughly frightened, was running like mad. Farnsworth was not an athlete, and seldom or never drove. He did all he could do, which was to pull with all his strength on the reins, but it had no more effect with the ter- rified animal than if he had been a playing child. They tore around a sharp corner, just grazing a fence, and were turned partly over, but managed to get righted. Madge sat per- fectly still, but clung to him. They were now on a road where there was but little snow and more danger. Farnsworth did not 246 CLYDE FITCH know how soon they would be by the Storm King embankment, and he cried out as he thought of their chances of being dashed over it. Even then they came in sight of this very danger. "Can you jump out?" he said to Madge. "Why?" she asked. "Don't wait to ask," he answered. "That is death ahead of us." "Then," she said, "we will meet it to- gether." "Great God! what do you mean?" "I mean that I choose death with you to the chance of life without you!" And she flung her arm about his neck. "You're mad !" he said. "Come, and I will jump with you now!" "No!" she screamed, in her excitement, clinging to him with both her hands, and holding him back. "Don't you see? don't you understand? it is the easier thing to stay." 247 A WAVE OF LIFE They swayed to one side with the cutter. He seized her wrists and held them both in one hand, and put the other around her waist. "Come!" he shouted, and clenched his teeth. They were almost on the edge of the em- bankment, but before he could spring with her out of the sleigh it stopped, and they were thrown back against the seat, unhurt. The traces had broken, and they looked up in time to see the horse give one leap into the air and disappear, and they knew that he had fallen to the river. Farnsworth's arm tightened around the girl. Her head dropped upon his shoulder. "Madge," he said, bending over her, "are you hurt?" "No," she answered, "but I want to cry a little only I can't." Farnsworth stood up beside her, thinking. He was trying to recollect where he was, and 248 CLYDE FITCH where he had been that morning, and what it was that had happened since then what it was that made him feel as if his life were lived, and that the life of another man now lay before him. "And what now?" asked Madge. "Cyril, the horse will not have to go back." She smiled a little bitterly. She was won- dering how she could return to that house to Rita and to Douglas. There was the effect in her mind of a wild hope which she did not dare to formulate. "We can never go back to where we were this morning," Farnsworth said. He was thinking of what had passed be- tween them since then on the road. He meant since they had broken faith with Douglas and with their own selves each could never go back to the same place in his or her life. They had proved themselves unworthy of the trust placed in them. He tried to understand the new chaos in which 249 A WAVE OF LIFE his mind and heart were. The being brought face to face with death had somehow changed things to him, and placed his own self in a clearer light, which had illumined even his feeling for Madge Synnett. He saw the truth and grasped it at last, but the revela- tion had come too late. "Cyril," exclaimed Madge, and seized his hand and kissed it. Joyful tears came easily now. She had misunderstood him. She thought he meant they could not go back to Cornwall and to Douglas. He looked down on her bent head, and knew it all before she spoke again; but he felt powerless to explain, to draw back from what he saw he had brought upon himself. He knew he had given her reason to misun- derstand him. And pity now crept into his heart. It is a dangerous thing for love when pity creeps into its abiding-place: there is never room for both. 250 CLYDE FITCH Madge looked up at him, and talked to him through her tears: "Yes, yes, you will take me away! We cannot go back! You will take me away, away from it all!" She grew suddenly calm. "Don't think me foolish," she said. "I will show you I can be sensible." She wanted to show him that she could be everything, everything, for his sake; He listened to her dumbly, every word she said sinking into his heart and deaden- ing its beats. He saw how beautiful she was, but he was content now to stand by and look at her. "Do you know where we are?" she asked. "No, but we are near some village. You can see it there on our right." "Yes," she said. "We might get a train there." "Madge," Farnsworth said, "shall we take the train for Cornwall, or for town?" 251 A WAVE OF LIFE "Cyril!" she exclaimed, drawing a little away from him. "What do you mean?" "Ought we not to go back?" he went on, but rather hopelessly. "We will explain our accident, and when Douglas comes you can break it to him quietly yourself. Wouldn't that be kinder to him?" "No ! no !" Madge interrupted ; "don't ask me to do that! Remember what I did last night. Think how those people would talk! Oh, I could not go back! It will be no harder for Douglas to hear of it this way." She did not mention Rita, but she thought of her. So did Farnsworth. She stood in front of him by the sleigh. A little sparrow loafing on a fence near them chirped blithely. The sun shone warm and pleasant. She put her two hands upon his shoulders and made him look at her. "Are you sorry?" she asked, with the old strange beauty in her eyes. And Farnsworth tried to give himself up 252 CLYDE FITCH to their intoxicating witchery again. But he spoke soberly: "Sorry" and he kissed her on the fore- head, and then upon her lips, softly, tenderly "for what?" And Madge, who did not know the an- swer, was satisfied. "Cyril," she said a few moments later, as they were walking to the station, having found some one to take care of the sleigh and rugs "Cyril," and her hand trembled in his, and the fierce light came into her eyes, "I would kill the woman who would take you from me now!" And Farnsworth smiled at her. Farnsworth noticed how every one about the station and train looked at Madge ad- miringly, and it was with a feeling of pride, even then, that he said to himself, "And yet she is mine." It was something like the feeling one might have if one were an 253 A WAVE OF LIFE Eastern prince in the possession of a beau- tiful slave. Madge's love was one of adora- tion. The incense of worship was novel and pleasing to him, though he knew the pedestal he stood on was not his own. 254 CHAPTER IX IN the train Farnsworth and Madge made some plans. It was then a little past one o'clock. There was no one she could go to quietly, and they decided to be married that same afternoon. Madge was excited, but overpoweringly joyful. The car seemed to her to be on wings, and when she reached town she felt as if she were in a city built in the air. Everything seemed different to her, and countless little things worthy of notice which she had passed all her life before with- out observing. Once or twice she complained playfully to Farnsworth that he was too quiet and made her do all the planning, but when he said it was because she did it so well, she was pleasantly silenced. Farns- worth obeyed her like a child, only taking 255 A WAVE OF LIFE the lead when the urgency called for a man. Once he said "Madge, I wish I were rich, for your sake." But she only shrugged her shoulders, and said, give her a crust every time, instead of a banquet, if it was his crust. Before they reached New York he had asked her where they should go for their honeymoon. "Cyril," she answered, "it has always been my dream to go on the ocean with my hus- band. I want to go on a little voyage with you. Can't we go south?" "Yes," he said. "There's a Bermuda steamer sails to-day. I had thought of that myself." "Oh, Cyril," murmured Madge, touching his hand, "how much in sympathy we are!" "Yes," said Farnsworth, but almost with an interrogation. Three letters were written one to 256 CLYDE FITCH Douglas Weldon, to reach him before he should go to Cornwall, one to Mrs. Gallo- way, explaining, or trying to explain, and one to her mother. She did not write to Rita. It was when she was writing these letters, in the Murray Hill Hotel, that Madge com- menced to realize the general wretchedness she was creating. "Poor Douglas!" she thought; "I'm sorry." But when she wrote to her mother she did not dare even to send her love to Rita. Something very like remorse came to her then, but she made an effort to throw it off. "It is too late to repent now," she said to herself; "and I don't repent. I tried to do right and I failed, but I did the best I could. Besides, he loves me: so he doesn't love Rita, and I did not take him from her, after all." She and Farnsworth were both under the influence of the same desire not to think, but to constantly do. And that night the Ber- 257 A WAVE OF LIFE muda steamer bore out of New York harbor two people who had taken their passage only at the last moment a bride and groom, it was whispered through the flowered saloon. They were Madge and Cyril Farnsworth ; and when the gangplank had been lifted, and they stood on the deck watching the shore in the fading light, there were tears in both their eyes, and a longing for rest in both their hearts, and a belief that it would soon come in one. "I only wish," said Madge, "that I had my violin." "Madge my wife," said Farnsworth, "and already wishing for something?" And he looked past her over the water. "No," she said; "already your words have made me forget my wish." He was thinking of his novel, which lay scattered on his desk. It had not been touched since that night of "Siegfried." Would it ever be finished now? 2 5 S CLYDE FITCH As the boat passed out of sight of land that evening, Madge's letters were being carried to their several destinations. Mrs. Synnett and Rita were making their toilets for a dinner-party, when the maid brought a letter to her mistress. She laid it down on her dressing-table, seeing it was from Madge, and went on trying the effect of different ornaments in her hair, thinking there could be no very important news from Cornwall. When she had thrown aside all her own jewelled pins, and borrowed, through the maid, one of Rita's to wear, she took up the envelope. She noticed then that the postmark was New York. She ex- perienced a certain uneasiness, and slowly tore open the letter, thinking. She did not read it through. When she came to what the letter was sent to tell, she stopped and screamed. Then she remem- bered the maid, and how everything must be kept quiet, even before she understood what 259 A WAVE OF LIFE everything was. She stood by the dressing- table a moment, breathing with difficulty. Every hope and plan of the last four years was in that short instant broken away from her. She felt as if she had lost her positive gravity and were dropping off from the world. She tried to call Rita; but she could not raise her voice, and she crossed the landing into her daughter's room. Rita stopped what she was doing, alarmed at her mother's expression. Mrs. Synnett sank down in a chair before she spoke. There were tears in her eyes, but she almost laughed; it was so strange so unnatural. "Rita," she said, "Madge has run off." Rita simply stared at her. "Don't look at me so," said her mother; and then for the first time she realized what it would mean to this daughter. "Oh, my child," she cried, "it's Farns- 260 CLYDE FITCH worth !" And Mrs. Synnett went into violent hysterics. Rita spent some moments calming her mother. She did not feel hysterical herself; she only felt very cold, and seemed to do everything as if she were a machine. She could not for some time comprehend what the blow was that had fallen, not until after she had read Madge's letter to herself several times. And even then, somewhat stunned by the shock of it, she did not fully realize all it must be to her. "I don't see how you can take it so calm- ly," whimpered Mrs. Synnett, almost ex- hausted by her own display of emotion, and missing the comforting company that a similar performance on the part of her daughter would have been. Suddenly she started up with a new thought : "Who'll tell Douglas Weldon?" 261 A WAVE OF LIFE "Probably Madge wrote to him the same time she did to us." "What's the matter with your voice?" asked Mrs. Synnett. "It doesn't sound natural." "Doesn't it?" said Rita wearily. The maid tapped at the door. "The carriage is here, ma'am." "What?" asked Mrs. Synnett. "Very well, Jane," said Rita, and then, turning to her mother, "It's the carriage." They had both forgotten the dinner en- gagement. "What's to be done?" said Mrs. Synnett. "We must send a messenger. I know it's dreadfully late, but we can't go. I couldn't face a dinner-table. Oh ! it will be a regular scandal!" she added, with a habit of exag- gerating her own thoughts with her words, and apparently about to go voluntarily into another period of hysteria. "There needn't be a sensation," said Rita, 262 CLYDE FITCH knowing that was what her mother meant by "scandal." "Why should there be? Everything was done rightly. Notice of the marriage will be in the morning papers, so Madge says in her letter, and every one will learn it in the usual way. We must not show to the world that we are that we are She stopped, not knowing what to say. Mrs. Synnett could not help her. "Mamma," Rita continued, "we must not let the world see we are so much more than surprised. We owe that much to Douglas Weldon. He does not want the world to sympathize with him." She did not speak of herself, but her mother knew. "You forget," she said, "that in Mrs. Galloway's note this morning she said Madge had announced her engagement to Weldon." "Yes, I forgot that," said Rita. "But what about Mrs. Delevan's dinner? 263 A WAVE OF LIFE I know you think one of us ought to go, and I suppose I ought to; but oh, Rita, I can't. Why, I talked to Madge only the other day about vou and him, and she said " V "Never mind what she said," said Rita coldly. "If you won't go I must, and I sup- pose I might as well." Her voice and manner were a quiet re- proach to her mother, but Mrs. Synriett did not dissuade her. She really was not fit to go herself, and she selfishly reasoned that it might do Rita good by taking her thoughts away from herself. She did not understand that it makes but little difference what be- comes of a being's thoughts after the heart and soul are gone. And Rita Synnett had that night seen her love thrown away into utter darkness, and her faith in mankind undermined, through the destruction of her faith in her sister and the man she loved. And she laid the stress of the blame on Madge. 264 CLYDE FITCH Rita put on her wraps. "What will you say?" asked Mrs. Synnett. Rita thought a moment before she an- swered : "I shall tell Mrs. Delevan, privately, that you were unable to come at the last moment, tired out by the excitement of my sister's marriage to Mr. Farnsworth this afternoon, and tell her it is not to be made public until the morning. She will never know then that we were not present at the ceremony. Good- bye." "Won't you kiss me, dear?" Rita went to her mother and kissed her. Her face was like a dead person's, thought Mrs. Synnett. When Rita had gone, she took off her dinner-dress, and bathed her face, and then went into Madge's room. Rita's example was working upon her mother's mind. She began to realize what an idol she had always made of Madge, and what a slave of her 265 A WAVE OF LIFE other child. She thought of Rita's strength of character as brought out now, and she guiltily felt that she had never really known her daughters. She thought, too, of what she knew now was true, of Rita's love for Cyril Farnsworth. "I wonder if they were engaged," she said aloud to herself, choosing some of Madge's things to pack up and send to her. "I should not dare to ask her. Besides, it would be cruel to her. I don't believe they were. Farns- worth is not so bad as that. I don't believe he knew his own mind." Perhaps, she thought, she, the mother, had been some to blame. She had tried to man- age matters as she thought best, but it was evident that she did not know. It was very hard on Douglas Weldon. She wished he and Rita would grow fond of each other ; but she knew that was impossible now at any rate, for Rita. She recognized that quality of her daughter's character; while she con- 266 CLYDE FITCH ceived the probability of Weldon's loving again, some girl who would be totally differ- ent from Madge. "At any rate, I will make no more plans for any one." She spoke aloud again. "Things must take the course they will. Perhaps when Madge and Farnsworth come back, and are happy, it will all come out right in the end. Though I don't see how it can, for Rita," she added after a moment. Rita came home early. Before her wraps were taken off she fainted. But the maid and her mother soon brought her to, and she insisted on going upstairs to her room to un- dress. She put on a wrapper and threw her- self on her couch. "Mamma," she said, "they knew it!" "What do you mean?" gasped Mrs. Syn- nett. "I mean what I say," repeated Rita in a dull sort of monotone, all the expression, all 267 A WAVE OF LIFE the timbre f gone from her voice. "They knev, it." "How?" "I don't know, exactly, but I believe some one who had friends going to Bermuda on the same steamer as Madge and Cyril was down there at the dock and saw them go on board ; then he knew some one at one of the newspaper offices, and oh, I don't know, but it was the one thing that they all wanted to talk about." "Well?" "I said it was true, and I smiled, and tried to look gay, as if I had been to a wedding. They asked me if my lilies were wedding flowers, and I didn't say no. And I don't know what else was said or happened. I only know I came away as soon as I could." "Do you think they suspect all the par- ticulars?" "I don't know," sighed Rita pitifully, "and I don't think I care." 268 CLYDE FITCH "Come here," said Mrs. Synnett, stretch- ing out her hands. And Rita went to them, and the two women sat in a big chair to- gether, with the mother's arms about the daughter. "Rita," she whispered once, "I'm going to be another woman from to-night a less self- ish woman, a truer woman, if you will help me." But Rita only answered "Dear mamma! dear mamma!" Some time after midnight a special de- livery letter came from Mrs. Galloway. "I've explained it all right to the people here," she said, "and you can count upon me to see that there is no foolish gossip in the society papers." It was very kindly meant, and they were grateful, but it did not touch the two women then. They were past caring for the world's opinion, learning a deeper lesson which was set before them. 269 A WAVE OF LIFE Mrs. Synnett felt that Rita would like to be alone, so presently she left her. Rita went to the window, and sat down among the cushions of the seat there, resting her elbows on the sill, and her little cold white chin in her little cold white hands. It was where she was sitting when Madge came in and found her three nights ago. She sat for a long time in a sort of stupor, looking up at the sky. "I don't understand this living on and on," she said, "and I know one thing: I will never again be afraid to die. Didn't he love me at all ? Oh, I felt so sure he did ! Yet he never said so ; I'm not sure now he even hinted it ; and perhaps it is my own fault that I am suffering now. Is it? Isn't it? What dif- ference does it make?" She looked at the stars again for a long time, without thinking of anything. "There isn't a single person in this whole big world," she thought, "that can comfort 270 CLYDE FITCH me. There is no one I can go to. If only I was more of a Christian, I believe I could go to God." Again her thoughts were formless. She found herself mechanically counting the twinkling lights in the winter sky. "I must do something," she thought now. "I must have some sort of duty in the world. No one has ever told me, but there must be some- thing, somewhere, for me to do. First I will go away for a little while, and when I come back I will write hard. Perhaps I will write my novel. At the least I can try." She sat with her arms dropped and her face buried in them a long time. "Only," she sobbed, "only I am so alone!" She lifted her head. The dawn of another day was creeping over the sky; it seemed to reach a little of its light into Rita Synnett's heart. It was like the lifting of a great weight from the breast on to the shoulders, where one can carry it, as Rita sank down 271 A WAVE OF LIFE upon her knees, moving her lips, and crossed her hands in front of her. Another pair of aching eyes saw the dawn coming over the great city a man who had walked since dark up and down the length of his room, and would walk for hours more, and who would know no rest for many days, but who knew how to carry burdens so that in the end they would drop of themselves. 272 CHAPTER X IT was the steamer's second day out. The first day had been a good omen indeed for perfect and beautiful happiness; and Madge and Cyril had spent it in the sunshine on the deck, enjoying together that ineffably sweet inertia which some people feel the first day on the ocean. There had been one of those beautiful sun- sets only seen at sea, where the sky was a faded emerald and the sun a disk of burning coppery brass which would defy even a Teniers to imitate. The swinging motion of the gulls, floating back and forward like foam on the waves of the air, had the same effect on the senses as the crooning melodies of a negro nurse. All the day and all the 273 A WAVE OF LIFE evening Madge and Cyril had lain back in the chairs and dreamed dreams. Nothing yet seemed actual to them. Madge said she knew in a few moments they would be landed at Cornwall-on-the-Hud- son, or else that she would wake up. And yet the awakening came sooner than even she expected; but it was of another, of a fatal kind; and even that first night the reality of life and the "natural course" of things began to make themselves felt. Madge was experiencing in a vague way something very like disappointment in Cyril Farnsworth. Not that there was anything lacking in his treatment of her, but that she missed perhaps a superfluous something which she had expected. Whatever her feel- ing was, it was the reason in her of a strange thought for a woman the first quarter of whose honeymoon had not yet lost its silver tips the fear that Cyril would not always love her. 274 CLYDE FITCH This fear was, too, undoubtedly, a certain form of jealousy in a nature too prone to it before there was any cause. A night's brooding over Cyril's too reasonable and quiet devotion made her morbidly, unrea- sonably uneasy. It even occurred to her that perhaps she had let him be too sure of her affection, as she had felt too sure of Wei- don's. She quieted her conscience about Rita by saying if Farnsworth chose to love and marry her she was not to blame. She told herself that if he had loved and married Rita instead, she would have been silent. Surely, as it was, Rita could not blame her for the denouement of affairs. So she stupefied her conscience, and repeated the moral drugging system at necessary intervals. But the very reasoning which was a narcotic to her con- science kept a little hidden jealousy of her sister from anything but the slightest doze, which the veriest jar would destroy. When- ever she spoke of Rita, Farnsworth listened, 275 A WAVE OF LIFE but he would not talk of her himself. At least he did not. Why not? He never of his own accord mentioned her name to her Madge. And he had a way of changing the conversation, or she thought he had. She wanted him to tell her more about himself. She would have been better pleased if, instead of being silent so much, he had told of all his life so far. There must be much to tell in a man's life between twenty-one and twenty-eight. She was jealous of this past from which she was shut out. Besides, she remembered, he and Rita had used to talk of the past often together. It did not make any difference to her that they had talked of childhood. She never had time for reason and excuse. She could forgive and forget even a sin, but she never excused. There was a former acquaintance of Cyril's on board, a handsome woman, a Mrs. Some- thing-or-other, who was traveling with a maid, and who treated Farnsworth, Madge 276 CLYDE FITCH thought, too familiarly, as if there had been something more than an ordinary friendship between them at one time. When she asked him about her, he said he had met her travel- ing abroad somewhere. She thought this was too indefinite. The second morning she had gone down into the cabin for barely half an hour, and when she came back Cyril and this woman were walking the deck together. She had to stand alone several minutes before Cyril saw her. All this she foolishly allowed to jar upon her. Farnsworth felt a false note was some- where breaking in upon their harmony. But he did not know where or how, and for the first time, while conscious of a change of mood in Madge, he could not sympathize with it. He did not like being told he was bored because he sat an hour in her company with- out talking. He had not been told so before 277 A WAVE OF LIFE in the many silences that had always been between them. He could appreciate no dif- ference now. He did not know that the very doubt of his own love for Madge which he himself was now trying to turn his back upon, having been too weak to grapple with it, Madge had already stumbled on. And Madge did not know that her own unwhispered fears of her power to hold his affections were born of an instinctive intui- tion that she did not altogether possess them now. The afternoon came on, of the second day out. They were sitting quite alone, and hid- den from the rest of the passengers, behind the lifeboat. All the morning she had been expecting some caress. Her hand often rested on the arm of his chair, on his sleeve, on his rug, constantly in reach of his, and yet only once had he touched it, and then it was to lift it rather playfully from his shoul- 278 CLYDE FITCH der with some remark apropos of the people about them. With the partial screen of the lifeboat, in the excess of her love and joy Madge felt oblivious of every one. She had been long- ing for a kiss for hours. Love's sweets are easily stolen, but she waited in vain to be robbed. Finally she yawned not a yeal yawn, but a false one and said it was stupid on deck, and she was going down to the cabin for a while. He allowed her to leave him, and did not follow her. Really he was half inclined to. He guessed that she expected him to. But he stayed behind and went on thinking. She was not gone long, and when she came back t,he thought he had been talking to the handsome blonde woman again, having passed her in the passageway. She was silent and somewhat angry as she joined him, with the hard look in her face 279 A WAVE OF LIFE which Cyril pretended not to notice and wel- comed her back with a smile. She brushed against him as she sat down, but he appeared to be unconscious of the con- tact. Really it had given him a sensation, but not a pleasant one. Formerly her touch had thrilled him with delight, had drawn him to her ; now it seemed to repel him. It was as if he had smoothed a piece of velvet "the wrong way." He saw the hard expression of her face, and this time it cast a damning shadow over the beauty of it, and an im- passive nonchalance seemed to Madge to rise up from him and strike her in the face. At that moment she felt she would like to cut him with a sharp knife, to make him feel intense pain just for a second. Invol- untarily her thumb and taper forefinger closed, as if a bit of his arm were between them; but she would not have done so child- ish a thing as pinch, and in an instant this feeling passed away. Only it left her bitter, 280 CLYDE FITCH and she made some slighting remark about the woman she had passed on her way to the deck. It was a witty but not a nice speech, and Farnsworth but half laughed. This half acknowledgment of its humor shamed her, and made her wish to justify herself. She questioned him about her. He refused to answer, and told her she was absurd. But he did not lose his temper; and Madge thought he was not serious enough. When she questioned, he bantered. His coolness exasperated her beyond measure. She thought him wilfully disagreeable and cold, and she was determined to rouse him at any cost. She knew he could be roused, and she believed in her power to calm him. Moreover, she had worked herself into an angry mood, and she felt the need of some climax, some turning-point for it. She was not capable of letting it quietly subside of itself. Besides all this, she spoke without think- 281 A WAVE OF LIFE ing. Madge always counted her ten after she spoke, instead of before. She told him she believed he had flirted with this woman, as he had flirted with Rita, only this woman was more worldly. "I did not flirt with your sister," said Farnsworth slowly, looking Madge straight in the eyes with an expression almost as hard .as her own. She did not like his manner. She laughed disagreeably. "Cyril," she said, "don't think you can de- ceive me so easily." "Your sister" he spoke with short stops between the words "is the last woman in this world I would flirt with." It was casting oil on the flames of Madge's jealousy. Her eyes blazed at him, her body shook. "You needn't lie to me," she said. "You did flirt with her, or Rita would never have confessed she loved you." 282 CLYDE FITCH Cyril had not taken his eyes off her. Still staring, he seized her hand and held her by the wrist in a grip that bruised. "Did she?" he asked between his teeth. She wanted to say no, but she thought the truth would humble him, and she had been humbled enough. "Yes," she answered. He dropped her hand and turned away, but she saw in his face that she had gone too far. "Cyril!" she cried, ready to relent; but it was too late. For a moment she cowered before her husband, but only for a moment. She closed her eyes with her hand, for she did not seem to see plainly, and then opened them again. Farnsworth could not speak he dared not trust himself. He had just sufficient strength at that instant to keep from curs- ing her. He stood as she rose from her chair. She drew herself up and passed him with 283 A WAVE OF LIFE a fierce glance, and went along to the passageway. In those few moments she both hated and loved him passionately. If she could have killed him, she would have died too, clinging to his lips. She noticed now for the first time that the vessel was rolling heavily, and that huge clouds were hurrying over a dead-black sky. At the doorway she turned and looked back. "No," she whispered, and went on. "I thought he was going to strike me. I almost wish he had. It would have made a different ending; and now, now, oh, I do not know if I'm saved or lost." Inside, she had to cling to the railings to support herself, and even then she was thrown from side to side along the whole length of the passage, feeling the knocks no more than she did the red marks of Cyril's fingers on her wrist, till she reached her own stateroom. The deck was a scene of confusion. Sail- 284 CLYDE FITCH ors were hurrying to and fro, and the officers were all at their posts. An ugly storm was expected. Every one was ordered below, and the sailors commanded to clear the decks. But Farnsworth, who had walked away when Madge left him, was quite hidden be- tween some rigging and the end of a lifeboat, and escaped notice. He was conscious of the storm only in a secondary way, in that he felt the sympathy of nature with his own racked and tortured being. His arms were lifted above his head, and he held by his hands to the rigging, while his body was plunged forward and back with the motion of the ship. He was wet, without knowing it, by the waves which now and then broke over the vessel's side. He threw off his hat to let the wind blow on his forehead, where there seemed to be an ever-tightening band of steel. His hair grew wild in the wind, and his eyes were big and seemed to be straining to leap their sockets, 285 A WAVE OF LIFE and yet he was beautiful. He was in that mental agony when the heart and soul are crucified, but the body still lives even after the bones of one's hopes are broken. The lightning seemed to burn a vivid track through the past few weeks of his life, and all the weakness of his character looked hide- ous in the white glare. As was his nature, when condemnation could do no good, he over-condemned him- self. "Almighty God," he said, "I've played with life as if it were a game, and men and women toys. I've been little else but a painted wooden image in the ark." He thought of Rita, and the tears poured out of his eyes, streaking the salt of the waves that had dried on his cheek. He could not avoid thinking again of what his life with her might have been, with a shudder of great self-abasement, nor avoid the comparison of what his life now promised to be. No 286 CLYDE FITCH calm, no peace, no rest, but only the un- ceasing rising and falling, backward and forward, of the sea seemed shut in by his horizon. A life made up of moods. He saw the mockery of his passion for Madge, and at length, utterly alone with his Maker, as a human being only can be in a mighty storm, he realized that his worship of Rita, which he had failed to understand, had been the ritual of that pure love which he had chosen for his own ideal. He knew he was not fit to kiss the tips of her fingers, yet he knew he would rather, once, than clasp the other, his wife, in his arms for a lifetime. And she had loved him. A myriad memo- ries crowded upon him in proof of what her sister had declared. He experienced a sud- den joy, a mad gladness for a moment, that made him shout. It was like a gleam of reason to an insane mind, and then it went out and left him in more utter darkness than 287 A WAVE OF LIFE before. He beat his bare forehead with his hard-clenched fist till the blood swelled and made a purplish bruise on his temple. "I have brought her only sorrow," he cried aloud. "Blessed happiness lay in my path, arid I trod it under my foot. My God, I have trodden her under my foot! She for whom I would gladly give these hands, these eyes, this life, knows only anguish now through me!" His voice was drowned in the fury of the storm. He had forgotten Madge, but again he thought of her, and again he cried out : "I will try, I will try to make her happy if I can." But still he lacked faith, taught by himself to mistrust himself. He did not believe he would accomplish that, or any- thing. He felt he had come to that awful present in one's life when one cannot look forward and one must not look back. He felt that his life, like his book, would be un- finished forever. 288 CLYDE FITCH "Rita!" and he smiled at the sound of her name. He repeated it again and again. "Forgive me! forgive!" He was silent a moment, and lifted his head and cried, "God forgive me, help me, and " His sentence was left unended. The sud- den light that shut his eyes silenced his lips. For one instant Cyril Farnsworth lay prone and still beside the heavy mast that had fallen past him down upon the deck. Over on one side rolled the ship and sank deep down into the sea, as if to show the sight to hell. And over her rushed the loud dark waters, as if to hide the sight from heaven. Then the mighty wave receding took him for her own, and, tumbling back from whence she came, swept the earthly temple of Cyril Farnsworth into the pit of the bellowing sea. But one soul on board had seen a woman who had hunted for this man in vain below and now had come to look for him above. With her own fingers she had managed to 289 A WAVE OF LIFE draw aside the heavy bolt and open the door that led out, and just as she stealthily crept through, fearful lest she should be watched and forbidden, the flash came that blinded her husband's eyes and opened hers too wide. She screamed; but what is a woman's cry when the sea and sky are raging? She fell forward as the ship rolled, and struck her head against the end of a lifeboat. And when she had struggled up to her feet again, he was gone. Gone! taken from her before her aching, hungry eyes, away from her yearning, out- stretched arms. She laughed aloud, a strange, cruel sound, and staggered on. Her hair caught in a broken spar, but she tore it free with her hands, feeling no pain, and still dragged herself on toward the place where he had stood. Her forehead was hot, she did not know ; the blood on her brow was warm, but the heat in her brain burned fiercer. 290 CLYDE FITCH "Wait!" she shrieked, and her voice was shrill and strange. The wave was bearing him on. Would the next wave never come? Every time she took a step forward it seemed to her the motion of the vessel threw her two back. "Cyril!" she cried, "Cyril!" and her voice grew hoarse and guttural. "Cyril, wait!" Would the next wave never come ? Who was it dragging her love away from her? Who was it that held back the coming wave so long ? She clutched her throat and beat upon her breast, when her voice failed her. Now she could see the huge mountain of water bearing down upon the vessel. High above her head it towered, but it was slow so slow! He would be so far ahead of her. She could wait no longer. She fell to the side of the ship and flung up her arms to the water, which seemed to stretch over her head like night. Her voice came: 291 A WAVE OF LIFE "Take me! take me to Cyril!" The wave curled, toppled, fell, broke, with the roar and destruction of a bolt from Vul- can, and rushed back with its burden, who did not see now the great gulf between this wave and the one that went before, and could not know now that the two waves would go on forever side by side, but separate always, with the hollow space between. Life, with its years of calm and its years of storm, must have been the same for these two, the same ; but they cannot live it now. The great ship plunged on. Happy hearts there were on board beating thicker as they thought of hearts on shore, and fond eyes waiting for dear ones to look into them at the journey's end eyes that did not see that awful beauty of a woman's arm that glis- tened in the lightning's glare whiter than the foam that flecked it. 292 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. NO PHUNE RENEWAL NflW MM? J> 3 1158012182944 A 000035620 4