The Complete Works of Stephen Crane (28 page)

“Oh, you did, did you? Well, you see I’m not. And now tell me all about it.”

“There’s really nothing to tell but the plain fact. Some of the boys dropped in at the minister’s rooms a little while ago, and, he told them of it. That’s all.”

Well, how did he know?

“I am sure I can’t tell you. Got it first hand, I suppose. He likes Coleman, and Coleman is always hanging up there.”

“Oh, perhaps Coleman was lying,” said Nora easily. Then suddenly her face brightened and she spoke with animation. “ Oh, I haven’t told you how my little Greek officer has turned out. Have I? No? Well, it is simply lovely. Do you know, he belongs to one of the best families in Athens? Hedoes. And they’re rich-rich as can be. My courier tells me that the marble palace where they live is enough to blind you, and that if titles hadn’t gone out of style-or something-here in Greece, my little officer would be a prince! Think of that! The courier didn’t know it until we got to Athens, and the little officer-the prince-gave me his card, of course. One of the oldest, noblest and richest families in Greece. Think of that! There I thought he was only a bothersome little officer who came in handy at times, and there he turns out to be a prince. I could hardly keep myself from rushing right off to find him and apologise to him for the way I treated him. It was awful! And-” added the fair Nora, pensively, “if he does meet me in Paris, I’ll make him wear that title down to a shred, you can bet. What’s the good of having a title unless you make it work?”

COKE did not stay to luncheon with Nora Black. He went away saying to himself either that girl don’t care a straw for Coleman or she has got a heart absolutely of flint, or she is the greatest actress on earth or-there is some other reason.”

At his departure, Nora turned and called into an adjoining room. “ Maude I “ The voice of her companion and friend answered her peevishly. “ What?”

“Don’t bother me. I’m reading.”

“Well, anyhow, luncheon is ready, so you will have to stir your precious self,” responded Nora. “ You’re lazy.”

“I don’t want any luncheon. Don’t bother me. I’ve got a headache.”

“Well, if you don’t come out, you’ll miss the news. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

There was a rustle in the adjoining room, and immediately the companion appeared, seeming much annoyed but curious. “ Well, what is it?”

“Rufus Coleman is engaged to be married to that Wainwright girl, after all.”

“Well I declare! “ ejaculated the little old lady. “ Well I declare.” She meditated for a moment, and then continued in a tone of satisfaction. “ I told you that you couldn’t stop that man Coleman if he had feally made up his mind to-”

“You’re a fool,” said Nora, pleasantly. “ Why? “ said the old lady. Because you are. Don’t talk to me about it. I want to think of Marco.”

“‘Marco,’” quoted the old lady startled.

“The prince. The prince. Can’t you understand? I mean the prince.”

“‘ Marco!’” again quoted the old lady, under her breath.

“Yes, ‘Marco,’” cried Nora, belligerently. “ ‘Marco,’ Do you object to the name? What’s the matter with you, anyhow?”

“Well,” rejoined the other, nodding her head wisely, “he may be a prince, but I’ve always heard that these continental titles are no good in comparison to the English titles.”

“Yes, but who told you so, eh? “ demanded Nora, noisily. She herself answered the question. “ The English!”

“Anyhow, that little marquis who tagged after you in London is a much bigger man in every way, I’ll bet, than this little prince of yours.”

“But-good heavens-he didn’t mean it. Why, he was only one of the regular rounders. But Marco, he is serious I He means it. He’d go through fire and water for me and be glad of the chance.”

“Well,” proclaimed the old lady, “ if you are not the strangest woman in the world, I’d like to know! Here I thought-”

“What did you think?” demanded Nora, suspisciously. “ I thought that Coleman—”

“Bosh!” interrupted, the graceful Nora. “I tell you what, Maude; you’d better try to think as little as possible. It will suit your style of beauty better. And above all, don’t think of my affairs. I myself am taking pains not to think of them. It’s easier.”

Mrs. Wainwright, with no spirit of intention what. ever, had sit about readjusting her opinions. It is certain that she was unconscious of any evolution. If some one had said to her that she was surrendering to the inevitable, she would have been immediately on her guard, and would have opposed forever all suggestions of a match between Marjory and Coleman. On the other hand, if some one had said to her that her daughter was going to marry a human serpent, and that there were people in Athens who would be glad to explain his treacherous character, she would have haughtily scorned the tale-bearing and would have gone with more haste into the professor’s way of thinking. In fact, she was in process of undermining herself., and the work could have been. retarded or advanced by any irresponsible, gossipy tongue.

The professor, from the depths of his experience with her, arranged a course of conduct. “ If I just leave her to herself she will come around all right, but if I go ‘striking while the iron is hot,’ or any of those things, I’ll bungle it surely.”

As they were making ready to go down to luncheon, Mrs. Wainwright made her speech which first indicated a changing mind. “ Well, what will be, will be,” she murmured with a prolonged sigh of resignation. “ What will be, will be. Girls are very headstrong in these days, and there is nothing much to be done with them. They go their own roads. It wasn’t so in my girlhood. - We were obliged to pay attention to our mothers wishes.”

“I did not notice that you paid much attention to your mother’s wishes when you married me,” remarked the professor. “ In fact, I thought-”

“That was another thing,” retorted Mrs. Wainwright with severity. “ You were a steady young man who had taken the highest honours all through your college course, and my mother’s sole objection was that we were too hasty. She thought we -ought to wait until you had a penny to bless yourself with, and I can see now where she was quite right.” “ Well, you married me, anyhow,” said the professor, victoriously.

Mrs. Wainwright allowed her husband’s retort to pass over her thoughtful mood. “ They say * * they say Rufus Coleman makes as much as fifteen thousand dollars a year. That’s more than three times your income * * I don’t know. * * It all depends on whether they try to save or not. His manner of life is, no doubt, very luxurious. I don’t suppose he knows how to economise at all. That kind of a man usually doesn’t. And then, in the newspaper world positions are so very precarious. Men may have valuable positions one minute and be penniless in the street the next minute. It isn’t as if he had any real income, and of course he has no real ability. If he was suddenly thrown out of his position, goodness knows what would become of him. Still stillfifteen thousand dollars a year is a big incomewhile it lasts. I suppose he is very extravagant. That kind of a man usually is. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he was heavily in debt; very heavily in debt. Still * * if Marjory has set her heart there is nothing to be done, I suppose. It wouldn’t have happened if you had been as wise as you thought you were. * * I suppose he thinks I have been very rude to him. Well, some times I wasn’t nearly so rude as I felt like being. Feeling as I did, I could hardly be very amiable. * * Of course this drive this afternoon was all your affair and Marjory’s. But, of course, I shall be nice to him.”

“And what of all this Nora Black business? “ asked the professor, with, a display of valour, but really with much trepidation.

“She is a hussy,” responded Mrs. Wainwright with energy. “ Her conversation in the carriage on the way down to Agrinion sickened me!”

“I really believe that her plan was simply to break everything off between Marjory and Coleman,” said the professor, “ and I don’t believe she had any-grounds for all that appearance of owning Coleman and the rest of it.”

“Of course she didn’t” assented Mrs. Wainwright. The vicious thing!”

“On the other hand,” said the professor, “ there might be some truth in it.” “ I don’t think so,” said Mrs. Wainwright seriously. I don’t believe a word of it.”

“You do not mean to say that you think Coleman a model man? “ demanded the professor.

“Not at all! Not at all!” she hastily answered. “ But * * one doesn’t look for model men these days.”

“‘Who told you he made fifteen thousand a year? asked the professor.

“It was Peter Tounley this morning. We were talking upstairs after breakfast, and he remarked that he if could make fifteen thousand, a year: like Coleman, he’d-I’ve forgotten what-some fanciful thing.”

“I doubt if it is true,” muttered the old man wagging his head.

“Of course it’s true,” said his wife emphatically. “ Peter Tounley says everybody knows it.”

Well * anyhow * money is not everything.”

But it’s a. great deal, you know well enough. You know you are always speaking of poverty as an evil, as a grand resultant, a collaboration of many lesser evils. Well, then?

“But,” began the professor meekly, when I say that I mean-”

“Well, money is money and poverty is poverty,” interrupted his wife. “ You don’t have to be very learned to know that.”

“I do not say that Coleman has not a very nice thing of it, but I must say it is hard to think of his getting any such sum, as you mention.”

“Isn’t he known as the most brilliant journalist in New York?” she demanded harshly.

“Y-yes, as long as it lasts, but then one never knows when he will be out in the street penniless. Of course he has no particular ability which would be marketable if he suddenly lost his present employment. Of course it is not as if he was a really talented young man. He might not be able to make his way at all in any new direction.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Mrs. Wainwright in reflective protestation. “ I don’t know about that. I think he would.”

“I thought you said a moment ago-” The professor spoke with an air of puzzled hesitancy. “I thought you said a moment ago that he wouldn’t succeed in anything but journalism.”

Mrs. Wainwright swam over the situation with a fine tranquility. “ Well-I-I,” she answered musingly, “if I did say that, I didn’t mean it exactly.”

“No, I suppose not,” spoke the professor, and de- spite the necessity for caution he could not keep out of his voice a faint note of annoyance.

“Of course,” continued the wife, “ Rufus Coleman is known everywhere as a brilliant man, a very brilliant man, and he even might do well in-in politics or something of that sort.”

“I have a very poor opinion of that kind of a mind which does well in American politics,” said the pro- fessor, speaking as a collegian, “ but I suppose there may be something in it.”

“Well, at any rate,” decided Mrs. Wainwright. “ At any rate-”

At that moment, Marjory attired for luncheon and the drive entered from her room, and Mrs. Wainwright checked the expression of her important conclusion. Neither father or mother had ever seen her so glowing with triumphant beauty, a beauty which would carry the mind of a spectator far above physical appreciation into that realm of poetry where creatures of light move and are beautiful because they cannot know pain or a burden. It carried tears to the old father’s eyes. He took her hands. “ Don’t be too happy, my child, don’t be too happy,” he admonished her tremulously. “ It makes me afraid-it makes me afraid.”