Vision House Part 31

"Yes, I named it that. You wouldn't be interested in the reason why."

Marise felt that she would be interested, but didn't care to say so.

"You wouldn't mind her coming to the Canyon?" he asked.

"Of course not! I should be delighted. That is, if I were there."

"You would be there."

"I mightn't. You see--things will change. Mums will come, and--and--I shall go away--with her. You know what will happen."

"Who knows anything about the future? But let it take care of itself.

There's plenty to think of in the present, isn't there?"

"Too much!"

"Not for me. Can you bring yourself to agree to that plan I proposed?

The screen----"

"Oh, I suppose it's the only thing to do! I've played bedroom scenes on the stage, and this----"

"Very well. That's settled, then."

"Ye-es. Except--about your belongings. I suppose Mrs. Mooney is sure to run in now and then to see how--we--are getting on."

"I'm afraid she will. Unless we tell her to stay out."

"We won't do that! I suppose your toilet things will have to be in _my_ room--on that tallboy with the mirror which Mrs. Mooney evidently meant for them."

"If you can bear the contamination!"

Marise glanced at him. But he did not speak the words bitterly. He was faintly smiling, though it was not precisely a gay smile. She wanted to smile back, but feared to begin again with "smiling terms," so she replied gravely that it could be quite well arranged. "I'll explain--enough--to Celine, and she'll unpack for you," the girl suggested.

"That's a kind thought!" said Garth. And then, as if satisfied with the way in which troublesome matters had shaped themselves, he got up. "I expect you'd like to have your maid in now, to help you," he suggested.

"You can ring, and I'll go and have a chin with Mothereen."

Celine was lodged at a distance, but there was a bell communicating with her quarters. She came, in an excited mood.

"But it is a house of charm, Madame!" she exclaimed. (It had ceased to seem strange, now, being "Madamed" by Celine.) "Monsieur Garth--the two domestics who have for him an adoration, say he built it. And he has another place larger and more beautiful, where we go. It is, then, that Monsieur is rich."

Marise did not answer. But she would have given something to do so, out of her own knowledge. Garth and all his circ.u.mstances, and surroundings, were becoming actually mysterious to her. She was puzzled at every turn.

"You mustn't gossip with the servants here, Celine," she said.

"But no, naturally not, Madame!" protested the maid. "I will listen to all they say, and speak nothing in return. So Madame wishes the effects of Monsieur placed in this room? _Parfaitement!_ It shall be done."

Luncheon was outwardly a happy meal. Mothereen so radiated joy in her adored one's return that Marise was infected with her gaiety of spirit.

After all, life was only one adventure after another, and this was an adventure like the rest. Well, not exactly _like_ the rest! But at least, it was not dull!

All the afternoon there were callers, and Mothereen broke it to the bride and bridegroom that, without being disagreeable, she could not avoid inviting a "few folks to dinner, and some to drop in later." "The dinner ones are our grand people," she explained to Marise, "the Mayor and his wife, and a son who is a Colonel. He has married a French wife.

She is very stylish, and she'll have on her best clothes to-night. They say she's got grand jewels. But sure, they won't hold a candle to yours."

"I haven't brought many with me, I'm sorry to say," replied Marise.

Mothereen's face fell for an instant, then brightened. "Oh, I clean forgot," she exclaimed. "The beautiful things I have waitin' fur ye.

They'll be on yer dressin'-table to-night. Now, not a wurrud, darlin'!

Ask me no questions, I'll tell ye no lies. This is a _secret_."

Intrigued, Marise became impatient to go to her room, but could not escape there till it was time to dress. Celine was already on the spot, preparing her mistress's dress for the evening: bridal white frock, scintillating with crystal; little slippers, silk stockings, a petticoat of rose-embroidered chiffon and lace.

But Marise did not cast a glance at these things. She walked straight to the dressing-table, and couldn't help giving a little squeak. For there lay the missing jewel-cases--those she had thrown into the corridor at the Plaza Hotel on her wedding night--and had never seen since.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE WHITE DOVE

Marise and Garth neatly arranged their life according to stateroom etiquette on s.h.i.+pboard. When one was in the bedroom the other was in the sitting-room next door. They were like the figures of the man and woman who come out and go in at the adjacent doors of a barometer; and the plan, though inconvenient, was not unworkable. When the girl had opened the jewel-cases and gazed once more at the glories she had thought lost forever to her repentant eyes, she couldn't resist tapping on the wall with a gold-backed hair-brush--one Garth had given her. Indeed, she did not stop to think better of the impulse.

Her heart--or some distantly related muscles round the organ--had suddenly warmed towards the man. This thaw was doubtless produced by remorse. For she had believed, on no evidence save instinct, that he had given these lovely things--_her_ wedding presents, although discarded!--to Zelie Marks. Instead, he must have expressed them to Mrs.

Mooney in order that she--Marise--should have a chance to change her mind. Foxy of him, because it would be difficult to refuse the gifts again, coming as they did from the innocent hands of Mothereen! However, she would see. She'd have a talk with Garth, and then decide.

Garth was in the sitting-room, pretending to himself that he was interested in the evening paper. He jumped up at the sound of a tap on the wall, hardly believing his own ears. But a knock at Marise's door brought a "Come in!" which did not sound grudging.

Marise in a so-called _robe de chambre_ was more dressed than in "Dolores's" third act ball-gown at the theatre, yet there was such a bizarre touch of intimacy in being admitted to this bedroom scene on the stage of life that numerous volts of electricity seemed to shoot through Garth's nerves. His face was composed, however, even stolid. "You wanted me?" he asked.

Marise didn't directly answer that question. She pointed to the jewel-cases. "Mrs.--Mooney put these here," she said. "I--wanted to tell you I'm glad they weren't stolen or--anything."

Her words gave him time to swallow his surprise, which was quite as great as her own had been at sight of the jewels. But he guessed at once what had happened. What a trump Zelie was! A grand girl! She'd make a fine wife for someone. He'd been a clumsy a.s.s to force these things upon her in a moment of fury against Marise; and Zelie had done exactly right. He was immensely grateful. Some day he must find a way to repay her for silently handing him a big chance--a chance that might mean a lot, which but for her thought, her generosity, he would have missed.

Well, it was up to him not to miss it now! He'd been an idiot over these baubles once. He mustn't "fall down" over them again; and to let Marise guess how he'd bungled--how a girl she didn't appreciate yet had straightened matters out--would be to prove himself a priceless a.s.s.

"Thank you for saying that," he quietly replied.

"I did tell you once before that I was sorry I'd thrown the jewel-cases on the floor. It was _horrid_ of me. I felt afterwards I'd been most ill-bred," vouchsafed Marise.

"No. More like a bad-tempered child," said Garth.

"You weren't nice to me when I tried to apologise," the girl went on.

"Were you trying to apologise? Sorry! I didn't understand."

"What did you think I was trying to do?"

"Did you ever see a small boy take a stick, and stir up some beast in its cage at a Zoo? If you did, you'll know."