Floyd Grandon's Honor Part 27

The others seat themselves in the bamboo veranda chairs. Cecil is seized with a fit of shyness, which proves coaxable, however. Violet feels compelled, as sole lady, to be entertaining, and acquits herself so well that in a few moments her husband forgets his recent anxiety about her.

Laura follows her mother up-stairs.

"What did possess Floyd to make such an utter fool of himself?" she asks. "When you wrote, I was struck dumb! That little--ninny!"

"You have just hit it. A girl who still plays with dolls, and who learned nothing in a convent but to count beads and embroider trumpery lace," says the mother, contemptuously.

"And he might have had Madame Lepelletier! She has been _such_ a success at Newport, and she will be just the envy of New York this winter! She is going to take a furnished house,--the Ascotts'. They are to spend the winter in Paris, and Mrs. Latimer says the house is lovely as an Eastern dream. I never _can_ forgive him. And he offered her to Eugene."

"Offered her to Eugene!" repeats the mother.

"Yes. He had hardly reached Lake George when the Grand Seigneur insisted upon his coming back and espousing Miss St. Vincent,--very Frenchy, was it not? But Eugene did not mean to be burdened with a dead weight all his life. We have had enough botherment with that miserable patent, not to have a beggarly girl thrust upon us!"

Mrs. Grandon is struck dumb now. Eugene has missed a fortune. Why does everything drop into Floyd's hands?

"I don't know about that," she answers. "It is a wretched choice for Floyd; she is a mere child compared to him, and she would have done better for Eugene. The patent is likely to prove a success; in that case the St. Vincent fortune is not to be despised."

"O mamma, Mr. Wilmarth a.s.sured Eugene that Floyd never _could_ get back the money he was sinking in it. He _must_ know. You do not suppose Floyd was counting on _that_ chance, do you?"

"I don't know what he was counting on," says the mother, angrily; "only he seems to take the best of everything."

"But fancy Eugene marrying to order!" and Laura laughs lightly. "I believe it was a plan of Mr. St. Vincent's in the first place. Well, the silly little thing is not much to look at! Mamma, do you know this Prof. Freilgrath is a great German _savant_ and traveller? He and Floyd have been writing a book together about Egypt or Africa or the Nile.

Mr. Latimer's club is to give him an elegant reception. Mrs. Latimer met him while they were at Berlin three years ago, when he had just come from some wonderful explorations. Oh, if Madame Lepelletier were only here, she would make Floyd one of the lions of the day! What an awful pity he is tied to that child! And it was so mean of him not to come to Newport, as he promised! The whole thing is inscrutable!"

"It was a hurried, tangled-up mess! I don't pretend to understand it. I don't believe he cares for her, but the thing is done," the mother says, desperately.

"I _was_ curious to see her, and when Floyd asked us so cordially to come I would have put off everything. We are to go back again to-morrow, and I am delighted to meet the professor, not that I care much for the Nile or the ruins of buried cities, unless some rare and beautiful jewelry comes to light," and she laughs. "My bracelets have been the envy of half Newport. I wonder---- But I suppose Floyd will save the rest of his 'trumpery' for her! You have not been deposed, _ma mere_!"

The set expression in Mrs. Grandon's face indicates that deposing her would be a rather difficult matter.

Laura meanwhile has washed her face and done her hair. She rummages in a drawer for some fresh laces she remembers to have left behind, and makes herself quite elegant. As they go down-stairs Mrs. Grandon slips the key in the piano, and then makes inquiries concerning the dinner.

The "foolish little thing" in her pretty willow rocker has made herself entertaining to the German professor, who is not long in finding that she is quite well read in orthodox German literature, except the poets, and there her teacher has allowed a wide range. She is yet too young for it to have touched her soul, but her eyes promise a good deal when the soul shall be really awakened. And he thinks of the story his friend has told, of her saving his little girl, and pays her a true, fervent admiration that puzzles Laura extremely. Violet does not get on so well with Mr. Delancy, for she knows nothing of society life.

But Laura can "s.h.i.+ne her down," and does it speedily. Cecil is sitting on her papa's knee, and he is very content until he finds presently that Violet has lapsed into silence. Laura has the talk with both gentlemen, and is bringing them together in the clever way known to a society woman. Then they are summoned to dinner. Arthur takes Violet; the professor, Laura; and here Gertrude makes a sort of diversion and has the sympathy of both gentlemen.

The evening is very pleasant. Grandon will not have his shy Violet quite ignored, and yet he feels that she is not able to make much headway against the a.s.sumptions of society. He realizes that his place will be considerably in the world of letters, and that has come to be a world of fas.h.i.+on. Wealth and culture are being bridged over by so many things, artistic, aesthetic, and in a certain degree intellectual, one has to hold fast to one's footing not to be swept over. If there was some one to train Violet a little! He cannot understand why the family will not take to her cordially.

Laura is thinking of this handsome house and the really superior man at its head, for she has to admit that Floyd has dignity, ability, character, and if he is coming out as a genius he will be quite the style. There is one woman who could do the honors perfectly,--madame,--and she feels as if she could almost wring the life out of the small nonent.i.ty who has usurped her place, for of course Floyd would soon have cared for madame if she had not come between.

"It was brought about by a silly romance," she tells madame afterward.

"The child had run away from her nurse and was scrambling down some rocks when she caught her, it seems, and Floyd, coming up just that moment, insisted she had saved Cecil's life. Very dramatic, wasn't it?

And Cecil is quite idiotic over her. I think she would make an excellent nursery governess. She is just out of a convent, and has no manners, really, but is pa.s.sable as to looks. Mamma insists that her hair is red, but it is just the color the Ascotts rave over. Mrs.

Ascott would be wild to paint her, so I am glad they will be off to Paris without seeing her. She is in deep mourning and can't go into society. I shall make Floyd understand that. But to think of her having that splendid place in her hands!"

To do Madame Lepelletier justice, she thinks more of the master than of the place, and hates Violet without seeing her, because she has won Cecil's love.

In the morning Mr. and Mrs. Delancy are compelled to make their adieus.

Laura goes off with an airiness that would do Marcia credit, and avoids any special farewell with her new sister-in-law. The professor remains, and spying out the piano asks leave to open it.

"It is locked, I believe," says Violet, hesitatingly.

Floyd lifts the cover and looks at his wife in astonishment.

"It was locked," she says, defending herself from the incredulous expression, "the morning after I came here,--and--I thought--the piano is Laura's," she concludes.

"Did you try it more than once?" he asks.

"Yes." She blushes pitifully, but her honesty will not allow her to screen herself to him. "You must never let him think a wrong thing about you," says Denise, in her code of instructions.

It is not at all as she imagines. He is amazed that any member of his family would do so small a thing as to exclude her from the use of the piano.

"Well," he says, "you shall have one of your own as soon as Laura can take hers away."

"Oh!" Her sweet face is suddenly illumined. How delightful it will be through the long days when papa is away! She can begin to give Cecil lessons.

"I suppose you are all for Beethoven," the professor is saying. "Young people find such melody in 'Songs without Words.' But I want you to listen to this nocturne of Chopin's, though it is not a morning song."

Violet listens entranced. Floyd watches her face, where the soft lights come and go. If she could always look like that!

But Freilgrath cannot spend the whole morning at the piano. They are to drive around, to see the place and the factory, to arrange some plans for work.

"Cannot the pretty mother and child go?" he asks.

"Why, yes," Floyd answers, pleased with the notion.

They stop at the cottage, which the German thinks a charming nook, then drive on to the factory. Violet and Cecil remain within while the two men make a tour of inspection. Floyd's spirits have risen many degrees in the past week. The machinery has worked to a charm, and demonstrated much that St. Vincent claimed for it. There seems no reasonable doubt of its success. Rising will be retained, and is empowered to hire any of the old hands who will come back and obey orders. Several have given in their allegiance, and some others are halting through a feeling of indignation at being falsely accused. But the fact is patent now that all along there has been a traitor or traitors in the camp.

Violet sits there in the carriage talking to Cecil, half wrapped in a fluffy white shawl. She is just in range of a window, and the man watching her feels that Floyd Grandon has more than his share of this world's favors. What has life done for _him_? asks Jasper Wilmarth with bitter scorn. Given him a crooked, unhandsome body, a lowering face, with its heavy brows and square, rugged features. No woman has ever cared for him, no woman would ever wors.h.i.+p him, while dozens no doubt would allow Grandon to ride rough-shod over them if he only smiled afterward. He has come to hate the man so that if he could ordain any evil upon him he would gladly.

He has dreamed of being master here, and yet in the beginning it was not all treachery. Eugene Grandon was taking it rapidly to ruin, and he raised no hand to stay. From the first he has had a secret hope in St.

Vincent's plans, but there was no one to carry them out. When the elder son came home the probability was, seeing the dubious state of affairs, he would wash his hands of the whole matter, and it would go, as many a man's life work had before, for a mere song. In this collapse he would take it with doubt and feigned unwillingness, and calling in the best talent to be had, would do his utmost to make it a success. But all this had been traversed by the vigilant brain of another.

If that were all! He had also dreamed of the fair girl sitting yonder.

A mere child, trained to respect and belief in her elders, and obedience of the Old World order, secluded from society, from young men, her grat.i.tude might be worked upon as well as her father's fears for her future. Once his wife, he would move heaven and earth for her love. She should be kept in luxury, surrounded by everything that could rouse tenderness and delight; she should be the star of his life, and he would be her very slave. There were instances of Proserpine loving her dark-browed Pluto, and sharing his world. Wilmarth had brooded over this until it seemed more than probable,--certain.

And here his antagonist has come with his inexorable "check!" A perfect stranger, with no hatred in his soul, only set upon by fate to play strange havoc with another's plans, to circ.u.mvent without even knowing what he did. If the place had to pa.s.s into other hands, as well his as a stranger's, he has reasoned.

He was as well off as if Mr. James Grandon were alive, and he had not railed at fate then. It was because he had seen possibilities, the awful temptations of human souls. It is when the weak place is touched as by a galvanic shock that in the glare of the light we see what might be done, and yield, fearing that another walking over the same road will pause and gather the price of some betrayal of honor, while we look back with envy, the envy of the tempted, not the una.s.sailable.

And because Violet St. Vincent sits there in another man's carriage, this other man's wife, he feels that he has been defrauded of something he might have won with the better side of his nature, which will never be called out now. They will go on prospering; there is no further reason why he should bend a wire, slip a cog, or delay the hurrying wheels. Since Grandon has achieved all, then let them make money, money for which he has little use.

Cecil gets tired, and Violet tells her a story. They are almost to the end when the gentlemen come, but Cecil is exigeant, and the professor politely insists. He is fond of even the f.a.g-end of a story, so that it turns out well; and then he will entertain the little miss. Violet finishes with blushes that make her more charming every moment; and Grandon finds a strange stirring in his soul as he watches this pretty girl. He is glad she is his. Some time, when the cares of life press less heavily, they two will take a holiday and learn to know each other better than mere surface friends.

Herr Freilgrath certainly makes an unwonted interest in the great house. He is so genial, he has that overflowing, tolerant nature belonging to an ample frame and good digestion, he has inexhaustible sympathy, and an unfailing love of nature. The two men settle themselves to work in the tower room, and for hours are left undisturbed, but the early evenings are devoted to social purposes.

Even Gertrude is compelled to join the circle, and Violet, whose tender heart is brooding over the lost and slain love, is so glad to see her roused a little.

Freilgrath discovers one day that Violet is a really admirable German scholar. There are some translations to make, and she is so glad to be of service. Cecil objects and pouts a little in her pretty child's fas.h.i.+on. At this her father speaks sharply, and Violet turns, with the same look she wore on her face the day of the accident. It is almost as if she said, "You shall not scold her." Is he losing then the right in his own child? And yet she looks so seductively daring that he smiles, softens, and kisses Cecil in a pa.s.sion of tenderness.