Hagar 14
But Laydon thought that she was thinking in terms of "honour." Pure
women were naturally up in arms at the suggestion of secrecy. Their
delicate minds had at once a vision of deception, desertion, all kinds
of horrors. He acknowledged that men had given them reason for the
vision; they could not be blamed if they saw it even when an entirely
honourable and devoted man was at their feet. He smiled at what he
supposed Hagar thought; his warm sense of natural supremacy became
rich and deep; he felt like an Eastern king unfolding a generous and
noble nature to some suppliant who had reason to doubt those qualities
in Eastern kings at large--he experienced a sumptuous, Oriental,
Ahasuerus-and-Esther feeling. Poor little girl! If she had any absurd
fear like that--He began to be eager to get to the letter to Colonel
Ashendyne. He could see his own strong black handwriting on a large
sheet of bond paper. _My dear Colonel Ashendyne:--You will doubtless be
surprised at the nature and contents of this letter, but I beg of you
to_--
The syringa alley ended, and the west wing of the house, beyond which
stretched the offices, opened upon them. Zinia, the mulatto maid, and
old Daniel, the gardener, watched them from a doorway. "My Lord!" said
Zinia. "Dey's walkin' right far apart, but I knows a co'tin' air when
I sees it! Miss Sarah better come back here!"
Daniel frowned. He had been born on the Eglantine place and the majesty
and honour and glory of Eglantine were his. "Shet yo' mouf, gal! Don't
no co'tin' occur at Eglantine. Hit's Christmas an' everybody looks
good an' shinin' lak de angels. Dey two jes' been listenin' to de
'lumination an' talkin' jography an' Greek!"
As the two stepped upon the west porch, the door opened and Miss
Bedford came out--Miss Bedford in a very pretty red hood and a
Connemara cloak. Miss Bedford had a sharp look. "Where did you two find
each other?" she asked; then, without waiting for an answer, "Hagar!
Mrs. Lane has been looking for you. She wants you to help her do up
parcels for her mission children. I've been tying up things until I am
tired, and now I am going to walk down the avenue for a breath of air.
Hurry in, dear; she needs you.--Oh, Mr. Laydon! there's a passage in
'The Ring and the Book' that I've been wanting to ask you to explain--"
Hagar went in and tied up parcels in coloured tissue paper. The day
went by as in a dream. There was a Christmas dinner, with holly on the
table, and little red candles, and in the afternoon she went with Mrs.
Lane to a Christmas tree for poor children in the Sunday-School room of
a neighbouring church. The tree blazed with an unearthly splendour, the
star in the top seemed effulgent, the "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" and laughter
of the circling children, fell into a rhythm like sweet, low, distant
thunder.
That night she wrote both to her grandmother and her grandfather.
When she had made an end of doing so, she kneeled upon the braided
rug before the fire in her tower room, loosed her dark hair,
shook it around her, and sat as in a tent, her arms clasping her
knees, her head bowed upon them. "_Carcassonne--Aigues-Mortes.
Carcassonne--Aigues-Mortes._ I can't send a letter to father, for I
don't know where to address it. Mother--mother--mother! I can't send a
letter to you either...."
CHAPTER IX
ROMEO AND JULIET
That week a noted actress played Juliet several evenings in succession
at the theatre in the neighbouring town. The ladies left adrift
at Eglantine read in the morning paper a glowing report of the
performance. Miss Bedford said she was going; she never missed an
opportunity to see "Romeo and Juliet."
Mr. Laydon, walking in at that moment--they were all in the small
book-room--caught the statement. "Why shouldn't you all go? I have seen
her play it once, but I'd like to see it again." He laughed. "I feel
reckless and I'm going to get up a theatre-party! Mrs. Lane, won't you
go?"
Mrs. Lane shook her head. "My theatre days are over," she said in her
gentle, plaintive voice. "Thank you just the same, Mr. Laydon. But the
others might like to go."
"Miss Bedford--"
"We ought," said Miss Bedford, "by rights to have Mrs. Lane to chaperon
us, but it's Christmas, isn't it?--and everybody's a little mad! Thank
you, Mr. Laydon."
Laydon looked at Francie. "Miss Smythe, won't you come, too?" He had
made a rapid calculation. Yes, it would cost only so much,--they would
go in of course on the street car,--and in order to ask one he would
have to ask all.
Yes, Francie would go, though she was sorry that it was Shakespeare,
and just caught herself in time from saying so. "It will be lovely,"
she said, instead, unemotionally.
Miss Bedford supplied the lacking enthusiasm. "It will be the treat
of the winter! Oh, the Balcony Scene, and where she drinks the
sleeping-draught, and the tomb--" She moved nearer Laydon as she
spoke and managed to convey to him, _sotto voce_, "You mustn't be
extravagant, you generous man! Don't think that you have to ask these
girls just because they are in the room." But she was too late; Laydon
was already asking.
"Miss Goldwell, won't you come, too, to see 'Romeo and Juliet'?"
If she didn't have a headache, Miss Goldwell would be glad to,--"Thank
you, Mr. Laydon."
"Miss Ashendyne, won't you?"
"Yes, thank you."
"I will go at once," said Laydon, "and get the tickets."
In the end, Lily Goldwell went, and Francie Smythe did not. Francie
developed a sore throat that put Mrs. Lane in terror of tonsillitis.
Nothing must go wrong--nobody must get ill while dear Mrs. LeGrand was
away!--it would be madness for Francie to go out. Where "what Mrs.
LeGrand might think" came into it, Mrs. Lane was adamant. Francie
sullenly stayed at home. Lily, for a marvel, didn't have a headache,
and she said she would take her menthol pencil, in case the music
should bring on one.
The four walked down the avenue, beneath the whispering trees. There
was no moon, but the stars shone bright, and it was not cold. Mr.
Laydon and Miss Bedford went a little in front, and Lily and Hagar
followed. They passed through the big gate and, walking down the road
a little way, came to where the road became a street, and, at ten
minutes' interval, a street-car jingled up, reversed, and jingled back
to town again.
On the street-car Miss Bedford and Mr. Laydon were again together, and
Lily and Hagar. Between the two pairs stretched a row of men, several
with the evening newspaper. It was too warm in the car, and Lily,
murmuring something, took out her menthol pencil. Hagar studied the
score of occupants, and the row of advertisements, and the dark night
without the windows. The man next her had a newspaper, and now he began
to talk to an older man beside him.
"The country's doing pretty well, seems to me."
The other grunted. "Isn't anything doing pretty well. I'm getting to be
a Populist."
"Oh, go away! Are you going to the World's Fair?"
"No. There's going to be the biggest panic yet in this country about
one year from now."
"Oh, cheer up! You've been living on Homestead."
"If I have, it's poor living."
Across the aisle a woman was talking about the famine in Russia. "We
are going to try to get up a bazaar and make a little money to send to
get food with. Tolstoy--"
The horse-car jingled, jingled through the night. All the windows
were down; it grew hot and close and crowded. The black night without
pressed alongside, peered through the clouded glass. Within were a
muddy glare and swaying and the mingled breath of people.
Lily sighed. "Don't you ever wish for just a clear Nothing? No pain,
no feeling, no people, no light, no sound, no anything?"
The street-car turned a corner and swayed and jingled into a lighted,
business street, where were Christmas windows and upon the pavement a
Christmas throng. A drug store--a wine and liquor store--a grocery--a
clothing store--a wine and liquor store--a drug store; amber and
crimson, green and blue, broken and restless arrived the lights through
the filmy glass. Laughter and voices of the crowd came with a distant
humming, through which clanged the street-car bell. The car stopped
for passengers, then creaked on again. A workman entered, stood for a
couple of minutes, touching Hagar's skirt, then, a man opposite rising
and leaving the car, sank into the vacant place. Hagar's eyes swept
him dreamily; then, she knew not why, she fell to observing him with
a puzzled, stealthy gaze. He was certainly young, and yet he did not
look so. The lower part of his face was covered by a short soft, dark
beard; he had a battered slouch hat pulled down low; the eyes beneath
were sombre and the face lined. There was a dinner pail at his feet.
He, too, had an evening paper; Hagar saw the headlines of the piece he
was reading: "HOMESTEAD"; and underneath, "STRONG HAND OF THE LAW."
Outside, topaz and ruby and emerald drifted by the windows of a wine
and liquor store.
She knit her brows. Some current in the shoreless sea of mind had
been started, but she could not trace its beginning nor where it led.
Another minute and the car stopped before the theatre.
Within, Laydon manoeuvred, and the end was that if he had Miss Bedford
upon his right, yet he had Hagar upon his left. The orchestra had not
yet begun; the house was dim, people entering, those seated having to
stand up to let the others pass. Once, when this happened, he leaned
toward her until their shoulders touched, until his breath was upon her
cheek. He dared so much as to whisper, "If only we were here, just you
and I, together!"
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