THE HONOR GIRL Read online

  What with the excitement and the splashing and the search for clean laundry it was late, after all, before the brothers were ready for those clean white beds that drew them so invitingly.

  Just as Jack was about to go up to his room at last, they were both drawn by some strange power toward their father’s open door to see what had become of him. They found him asleep on his knees before the bed, with their mother’s old wrapper hugged close in his arms and traces of tears on his face.

  Tenderly, with unaccustomed hands and words that sounded strangely on their young lips, they roused him and made him go to bed. They crept awe-stricken into their own beautifully clean beds, and lay down, handling the covers carefully as though these might be harmed with rougher touch. And then they lay with crowding thoughts upon their hearts. They had not been so stirred since their mother died. They felt her presence had somehow come back again to bless them. It may be that the thankfulness of their hearts as they put their heads upon those clean pillows, and sighed contentedly, was something akin to prayer.

  The whole thing was mysterious, so wholly un-explainable by any of the common surroundings and circumstances of their lives, that they could not settle on an explanation; and there was nothing else but Providence to lay it to. They had never thought much about Providence. They had scarcely thought they believed in higher powers anymore. It wasn’t exactly the thing to do in the world in which they moved.

  There was not an aunt in the whole connection who would have done this for the house and them, no, not even for the sweet morsel of giving them a rebuke. There was not a devoted old servant; for Rebecca had been the only servant they had had for years, and Rebecca never had a knack of making things look tidy, nor could she cook like that.

  Besides, there were those wonderful soft blankets, the new white spreads, the sheets, the towels. Who, who would spend money for such things for them? They turned back the spread in the dark, and touched lightly the soft wool of the blanket, to make sure it was still there. They passed wondering hands again over the smoothness of the sheets. Would the mystery ever be explained? Would they perhaps find it was some practical joke? Or, worse still, a terrible mistake? Some one had got the wrong house and done all this? How could it be? Yet there was no other reasonable explanation.

  The older man, moaning in his room, was talking to his dead wife; telling her how he had treated her, how dear and wise she had been to him, and how he had rewarded her with sorrow. He pleaded with her to come back once more, just to touch him and say she forgave.

  The boys, listening in the darkness and the stillness of the house, found their own lashes wet in spite of themselves. It seemed to them that their mother had just died; yet she was there in the front room with their father, receiving her due from him at last. It half reconciled them to their father to hear him make this late restitution. It stirred their souls to the depths, and somehow brought up things that they themselves had done which would have distressed their mother. In that still hour in those comfortable beds some things they had been contemplating for themselves fell away from them, and a cleaner, truer purpose half rose in their hearts for the future.

  And at last they fell into a clean, untroubled sleep, with a sense as of a hand tenderly comforting them.

  Chapter 7

  When Elsie got into the trolley at her father’s corner and sank down into a seat, she was suddenly overcome with an unutterable weariness. She did not remember ever to have been so tired before. Her limbs trembled, and even her fingers trembled as she tried to take her fare out of her purse. It seemed as though her heart was on a gallop and she could not keep up with it. She wanted to cry out to it to stop and let her get her breath, and she wanted to throw herself down on the seat and weep. It was hard to keep the tears back, and she knew her lips must be visibly trembling. She could not understand this sudden collapse.

  She put her purse into her bag and leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes and trying to get steady control of herself. Those last few minutes, slipping out of the house like a thief, running away from her brothers and her own father, watching her father go uncertainly up the walk, had been too much for her. She had been keyed up all day for this climax, and now that it was over and she was speeding away from the scene of her activities, her mind could not stop.

  It suddenly began to seem wrong for her to be going away. Her place was back there in that miserable house, trying to make it pleasant for those to whom she had been given when she came into the world. Those three desolate men, for whom she had been laboring all day as a sort of amusement for herself, had a claim upon her that no other three people in the whole world had. She had never thought of it in that way before. She had not even thought of it while she had been trying to make the house habitable for them. She had only looked upon it as a charitable incident in her full and happy life. Now it suddenly took on proportions that overwhelmed her, and she was physically too tired to reason or to combat them. The tears came into her eyes, with torrents threatening. In vain she dabbed at the edges of her lashes to remove a sudden glistening; in vain she pressed her upper lip with her finger; in vain she opened her eyes and sat up straight, winking fast to remind herself that people were about her and she must not cry. Two tears welled up and rolled flashing down her cheeks before she could think, and she turned her head sharply toward the window to hide them and got out her handkerchief to wipe them away. She stared hard out of the window, and kept her eyes wide to prevent more tears; and, as she looked into the window-glass, she became aware of a face behind her, oddly, hauntingly familiar which gave one keen, sympathetic glance and turned away as if he would not watch what he could clearly see she wished to hide.

  She conquered her tears presently, but continued to stare out of the window and could see the reflection of the young man who had happened to be looking that way when her tears fell. He had a kindly expression, and firm lips. Where had she seen him before and why did his face remind her of something unpleasant? He did not keep looking at her curiously as some men might have done. She thanked him in her heart for that.

  She did not know that he had stood within the shadow of the great willow-tree across the corner from her father’s house, waiting for this car, when she stole furtively to the back door and ran down the street; nor did she know that he had recognized her at once as the pretty dancer of the evening before and wondered, for she did not look as if she belonged to a dejected, lonely home like that. The manner of her retreat from the house, if she had but known it, had been peculiar enough to arouse anyone’s curiosity, and, when there were added to this her weary looks and the tears, he certainly had items enough to make the situation interesting.

  Cameron Stewart had been out to Morningside to call on an old friend of his mother’s before taking his train and he had been standing at that corner when the young men arrived and had seen the man get off the up car and go into the house none too steadily. Was that the burden the girl carried? And if so, what relation did she sustain to him and to the two younger men in working clothes who had entered the house just as the girl left it? Could she by any chance be a daughter? Professor Bowen had spoken only of a rich uncle.

  He tried to forget the girl across the aisle, and to tell himself that she was nothing but a stranger to him, that he had no business to be prying even with his thoughts into her affairs; but, try as he would, the sweet face and the fresh content of the girl he had seen the evening before kept coming to him, in sharp contrast with the weary young face leaning against the window now with closed eyes and a tired droop to the lips. Curious that he could feel such interest in her now when he had despised her so thoroughly last night. But this was an entirely different view of her. In spite of his best efforts he was interested and worried about that girl to such a degree that he forgot to get off his car at the station and had to hurry away with a last wistful glance in her direction and walk back three blocks. He had half a mind to stay on the car and see where she went, but chided himself severely for the
thought. It was almost time for his train, and what business had he to run after an unknown girl just because he felt sorry for her?

  When Elsie reached her aunt’s house, she found the family quite worked up about her absence. They had delayed dinner for her, and had telephoned to every possible place they could think of to find out where she was. There was company to dinner, and no time for explanations. One of Bettina’s friends had brought a college friend to see the girls, and the young men had been delighted to accept the eager invitation to stay to dinner. Elsie hurried upstairs to make a hasty toilet, both sorry and glad for the company. She felt too weary and absorbed to arouse herself to talk small nothings now, but at least she would not have to go into details of explanation as she might have had to do if only the family were there.

  “Where on earth have you been, child?” said her aunt, hurrying in as Elsie came down. “I’ve been worried sick about you. You missed the symphony concert, and you wanted to hear it so much.”

  I’ve been out to Morningside, Aunt Esther,” she said, trying to speak brightly. “I’m sorry about the concert, but I just couldn’t come back any sooner. I found some things that had to be done.”

  “At Morningside all day!” exclaimed her aunt in dismay. “But really, Elsie, you shouldn’t do that, you know. It is utterly uncalled for. There is a servant paid to look after things out there, and you have your own life to live. It was too bad for you to miss the concert.”

  Elsie was glad the others came about her and she had to be introduced to the young men. She did not feel like combating her aunt just now, and somehow that good woman’s point of view seemed utterly out of focus with the girl’s present mood. For the first time since she had come to live with her aunt such remarks about her father’s home grated upon her. That talk about her living her own life sounded utterly selfish and cruel. Did she have her own life to live in that sense? Some long-forgotten words rushed to her memory; where had she heard them? “For none of us liveth to himself.” Was it true? What did it mean? Hadn’t she been living to herself? Wasn’t that what Aunt Esther was trying to have her do? Out of kindness and love for her, of course; but still didn’t it amount to the same thing? Aunt Esther of course hated Elsie’s father because he had married her younger sister, and according to Aunt Esther, had broken her heart. She also hated the boys because they were boys, and might be expected to follow in the footsteps of their father. She had taken Elsie away from it all. That was what Elsie had often heard her tell the other aunts and cousins and, until tonight, had always felt a deep gratitude to Aunt Esther for having taken her. Each visit to her old home had confirmed her in that gratitude. But now for the first time she began to see another side to such remarks. She began to wonder whether perhaps Aunt Esther had really done the very best thing for her that she could have done.

  There was not much time for these thoughts. Another young man, a friend of Katharine’s arrived; and almost at once they sat down to dinner. The stranger was assigned to Elsie and she found her hands entirely full to keep up with his merry repartee. She was obliged to summon all her powers to the task, and once, when Katharine was telling some story that engaged the attention of the entire table, she leaned back wearily in her chair with relief; but her aunt noticed her, and spoke as soon as there was opportunity.

  “Elsie, you are looking pale and tired. You shouldn’t have tired yourself all out going over your old things. It really isn’t worthwhile. It would have been much better for you to have just given the name of that book you wanted to the book-store, and asked them to get you a copy, than for you to travel away out there and wear yourself to a frazzle.”

  With a bright spot of color on each check Elsie rallied again, trying to laugh and hide the tendency to burst into tears that seemed to be returning. It was harder than anything she had done all day to sit there and make small talk, and be wondering all the while whether her father and brothers ate the dinner before it was cold, whether they found the coffee-pot in time, whether the gravy had been salted enough, and whether they had cared at all. Would they go upstairs before they ate supper, and discover the changes she had made there? If they did, the supper would surely be cold before they ate it; and that would be such a pity.

  It was wonderful how that house out at Morningside had taken a hold upon her thoughts, and how many times she had to bring her mind back with a jerk to the conversation she was trying to carry on.

  The evening had been terribly long. They had insisted upon her playing for them; then she had to accompany Bettina when she sang; and then they all sang. It seemed as though the hours stretched out endlessly. But at last it was over; her aunt had kissed her good-night; and somehow she got through all the chatter with her cousins, listening halfheartedly to “And he said,” and “He was awfully pleased,” and “Don’t you think he’s handsome, Elsie,” and so on, until they finally confessed to being sleepy and left her to herself.

  She crept into bed thankfully; yet, even as she turned back the coverings of her comfortable bed she felt a pang when she remembered those awful beds she had encountered that morning; and, when she put her head down on the pillow and shut her eyes, she had to wonder again what her brothers and father had said. Were they pleased or angry at having the house changed? Did they like the supper? Did they suspect who had done it? A kind of shame burned in her cheeks in the dark, as she reflected that they would have no reason whatever from her own actions during the past five years even to think of herself in connection with it.

  Then, as she turned over and expected to float off to sleep on the wings of her great weariness, there came a vision of her own old room, a dusty dreary vision; an empty room, but a shrine for her! Somehow it seemed to be stretching out its weird, dusty hands to her over the miles of city that separated them, and to be calling to her to come and make it live again and be a center for that desolate home. A home without a woman! What a place it was! It was almost worse than a home without a man, and Elsie had always thought that would be most stupid and dull. But a home without a woman was no home at all; she had seen that today. It was a shell with the spirit gone. And there was no woman but herself to take that place, bring that home to life again, and make it what it ought to be for those three men.

  True, in a few years, perhaps soon, one of the boys might marry and bring home a wife; but it was utterly unlikely that any woman would want to be brought home to a place like that. She would more than likely insist that she have a new home of her own; and she would be entirely justified in it. She would have no obligation to make that home live again. Only the daughter of the house had the obligation upon her to do that. Why had that obligation never appeared to her before? Why had she been content to live here in peace and luxury and forget these who were her own blood? Why did she see things differently now? Nothing was changed from what it had been this morning when she left the house. She had known that things out there were dreary. She had been perfectly happy then to let them be so and live her own life; what had made the difference? Why couldn’t she get back that calm, philosophical way of looking at life, feeling that, as Aunt Esther had said, she had her own life to live?

  She had no desire to have her eyes opened in this way. She would have liked to close them again and go back to comfortable living. She pulled the bedclothes over her head, and tried to shut out the sight of the dining-room window with that sudden light, and the three dark figures standing about as at a sacrament, just before the trolley car took her away from it all. She got up and bathed her head with cologne, took a drink of water, and tried to compose herself to sleep again; but all the while the thoughts were racing through her mind, the questions pouring in upon her heart that had never asked themselves of her before. Questions of right and wrong. Deep, solemn questions, as if she were being arraigned before a throne of justice. And underneath, like an eager, other soul that saw beyond selfishness, was running a wonder as to how they had taken her surprise, and what would happen next.

  She dreaded her aunt’s quest
ioning in the morning, which she knew was sure to come. She dreaded the sneers and jokes of her cousins when they had time to take in that she had actually stayed away from the symphony concert to clear up a house and make pies. She dreaded most of all to face her real self on the morrow when she should be rested and know what verdict her soul had rendered to itself for all that she had done and had left undone for the past five years.

  And so at last she slept.

  Chapter 8

  Elsie kept her own counsel most of the week. She avoided discussions with her aunt concerning Morningside, and she managed to turn the conversations away from the symphony concert whenever an approach to it threatened, so that her cousins asked no more unpleasant questions.

  But when a friend telephoned Friday evening and asked her to go to the university play Saturday afternoon, she declined on the plea that she had another engagement; and Bettina, overhearing, grew unmercifully curious, and began begging her to go to a famous moving-picture play with them Saturday afternoon. She evaded Bettina successfully, but Saturday morning Halsey Kennedy drove up in his big motorcar, and invited all three girls to go on an all-day trip with himself and a friend. Of course Elsie’s negative brought a torrent of exclamations and coaxings upon her, and Katharine and Bettina finally went off in a huff with the deeply disappointed young men.

  It was a little hard for Elsie, standing in the door watching them depart, to know that she might have had the front seat and the exclusive attention of Halsey Kennedy for the day if she had gone. The task she had set herself looked like a dismal one as she turned away from the brightness of the morning and went upstairs to prepare for it.

  She soon came down, however, in a street suit with a large neat bundle in her arms, and hurried away to the trolley car, thankful that her aunt had already gone to an early committee meeting of the Civic Section of the Woman’s Club, and therefore would not protest.