Conflict (Prouty)/Book 3/Chapter 8
Sheilah had planned to leave Avidon's on a Thursday. It was Tuesday now, just before dinner. Sheilah did most of her meditating at Avidon's just before dinner, during the prescribed half-hour of rest, and later as she dressed with luxurious leisure. She was glad that this was not her last night at Avidon's. The Outsiders were giving her a dinner party in the grill, on her last night, and she rather dreaded it. There would be sure to be au revoirs, see—you-agains, and possibly exchanges of addresses, which so far she had successfully avoided. As the hour for her departure drew nearer, Sheilah very much hoped that she would be able to speed back to her hearth and cinders without leaving anything behind to trace her.
Sheilah was wearing her black dress to-night. Roger was taking her out after dinner to show her the moonlight on a beautiful little lake he had discovered in the woods. Roger was always discovering beautiful spots around Avidon's, and showing them to her, or to any appreciative audience, for that matter, she shrugged. But he had never taken her anywhere alone with him in the evening.
Roger had been very careful not to compromise her in the slightest degree. Never once had he put her in the uncomfortable position of forcing her to make a choice between appearing prudish in his eyes, or unconventional in others. But this afternoon he had said, as she stood a little above him, on the stairs, on her way up to her room to dress, 'I am going to kidnap you to-night. Put on something dark. I've got a canoe tied to an old stump on the edge of a little lake I've found. The moonlight on it is too lovely for you to miss. I'm going to steal you away from the others as soon as it's dark. Understand?'
'But wouldn't the others like it too?'
'No. Just you to-night.'
'But'
'It's all right,' he assured her. 'It's perfectly all right. I took Judith there last night after our game of bridge.' He had taken Judith there for the sake of the argument in case it was necessary.
'But Judith'
'It's your next-to-last night,' he reminded her, frowning a little as if annoyed that his way should be balked even for an instant. 'I've planned it. I've looked forward to it. It's our last chance. I' He stopped abruptly, as if suddenly aware of his amazing insistence, and finished quietly, simply, 'Won't you come?'
She'smiled down at him. 'Why of course I'll come,' she laughed softly, 'I'd love to!'
He grasped her hand at that, and drew it to his lips—they were on the second landing, alone, unwatched—and afterward exclaimed in a whisper, 'You're a dear!' Then quickly turned and left her.
That was half an hour ago. He had never kissed her hand before. But sometimes he had exclaimed in that same explosive way of his, 'You're a dear!' when she had said something that amused him.
She liked to have him say, 'You're a dear.' It was like making him laugh. Only nicer. She liked to make him laugh. She liked to have him kiss her hand like that, too. Of course it was just one of his mannerisms. In foreign countries it meant little more than shaking hands.
As Sheilah dressed to-night she performed the various rites slowly, with an awareness of her surroundings keener than ever before, because she was so soon to leave them. She had come to love this room of hers, hung here in the treetops, this bit of blue-lavender heaven, so dainty, so exquisite, so perfectly equipped. She glanced at the dressing-table, blue-lavender, like the walls, adorned with her girlhood silver only; at the chest of drawers to match, filled with soft, straight piles of her clothes only; at the low rocking-chair by the window, where so often she sat in contented solitude; at the bed, a broad luxurious affair, but hers, hers alone; at the porcelain-lined bathroom, twinkling like a cut gem with many surfaces. Her morning and evening bath had become a delightful indulgence to Sheilah of which she was almost ashamed. She was, at heart, fearfully epicurean, she was afraid. Cicely had put a large bottle of lavender-colored bathing-salts in the bottom drawer of her trunk. Precious stones, Sheilah liked to fancy, as she sprinkled them profligately morning and night in the cream-colored tub. Bathing in dissolved amethysts, which left behind a faint, fluttering perfume, like that of 'a single wet wood-violet,' Roger Dallinger had said one day.
Sheilah turned her head now sidewise, and bent it to her bare shoulder, with the gesture of a dove preening her neck-feathers, to see if she could catch the elusive fragrance. Then shrugged and made a wry smile at herself in the mirror. How quickly frying potatoes over the kitchen stove at home would consume the perfume of a single wet wood-violet!
In spite of her lingering, Sheilah was ready for dinner early to-night. When she came downstairs, she joined the group on the verandah, gathered to watch the sunset. Several of the Outsiders were there, Roger among them, besides others of the hotel guests. There was an exceptionally beautiful display to-night of salmon-colored sky and violet clouds.
Avidon's is located half-way up what is known as Pine Mountain. Its front verandah commands an uninterrupted view of the western horizon line. Also an uninterrupted view of the last quarter-mile of roadway that emerges from the shelter of some woods in the valley below, and makes a dash for the hotel up over a shorn hill, as bare and exposed as a Scotch moor. There are not many automobiles that climb this road. Avidon's is far removed from the beaten track. The approach of any car is always an occasion of mild interest.
'What kind of an animal do you call that?' suddenly somebody on the verandah exclaimed, pointing down the hill. Everybody turned, abandoning the sunset. Crawling along the road at a snail's pace, there approached a small, dark object, self-propelling and suggestive of an automobile, halting every little while, coming to a dead stop, rolling down the hill a few yards, and making a fresh start.
As witnessed by the idle group of spectators on the verandah and commented upon by them with facetious remarks, it was a highly entertaining sight. The little car threatened so many times to give up the struggle.
'Persistence! Never say die! Excelsior!'
Such was the form of wit indulged in by the group upon the verandah. Felix had no idea he'd got to scale a range of mountains to reach Avidon's. Something had gone wrong with the little car since he'd gotten up into the high altitude. Seemed to lose her vitality. Too rare air for her lungs, or something, he guessed.
Felix hadn't written Sheilah a word about the car. It had flashed over him about a week ago how wonderful it would be to get a few days off, and bring her down 'over the road' like other people. They might even camp out on the way home for a night if he managed to pick her up a day or two before she planned to leave. He had brought an auto tent and other camping equipment. Sheilah used to like to picnic. Gosh! He hoped he was on the right road. It was getting late. He'd better stop, he guessed, at the big hotel on the right up there and inquire.
He had no idea the big hotel on the right was Avidon's. He'd understood Avidon's was a sanitarium. He had pictured a small, sort of country boarding-house affair, like the sanitarium his mother had gone to in Vermont once, to get strong after her operation.
He didn't turn into the driveway that curved up to the front entrance of the hotel. The interested group on the verandah saw him bring his laboring little car to a standstill just beyond the clock golf-course. Felix had strapped the tent on one of the running-boards, and on the other, blankets and cooking equipment. At close range the car resembled a small burro, one of those pathetic-looking little beasts of burden used on mountain trails, hung with huge side-baskets. A silver-gray burro, for it was covered with dust, the bright black coat of enamel Felix had given it, entirely obliterated. He must stop and clean her up a little, he guessed, before he got to the sanitarium. And himself too, for that matter. The roads had been terribly dry.
'Say,' he called out lustily to a group of people on the front porch of the hotel, 'is this the road to Avidon's?'
A sensation as if she were dropping in a runaway elevator shot through Sheilah. The voice sounded so like Felix's. But of course it couldn't be. The elevator assumed its normal speed.
'This is Avidon's,' Roger beside her called out cheerily.
'This Avidon's?' the voice insisted. And again the elevator shot down with Sheilah.
'Yes. This is Avidon's. This is right,' several voices replied.
Felix stopped the sputtering engine (better get out and make certain, he guessed), opened the door, and laboriously climbed over the bulging tent on the running-board.
Sheilah stood speechless for a moment, trying to make the jumble of incoherent facts her eyes were telegraphing so rapidly to her brain, add up and make sense—add up and make Felix. It was Felix's voice, his stature, his stoop, even his overcoat—the light one that used to belong to Gretchen's husband, but here, at Avidon's, how was it possible? And the car—the funny little car? However, no one but Felix limped like that, carried just that brand of the war.
Before he had taken a dozen steps she exclaimed in a voice that trembled, 'Why, I think it's somebody I know,' and went down the steps.
Felix saw her coming, and halted. They met half-way between the car and verandah.
'Why, Felix!'
'Hello!' He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her quickly on the cheek (though perhaps he oughtn't to have, right out in front of the hotel). 'Thought I'd surprise you.'
'I can't believe it's you!'
'It is.'
'But how in the world?'
'Come and see your new car!'
'Mine?'
The group on the verandah watched them return side by side to the car, and stand looking at it for a prolonged minute or two, prolonged at least to Roger Dallinger. Who in the devil was the fellow anyhow? Kissing her like that? Getting her all dusty! Sheilah's black gown was cut high in the back. Felix's arm had left a bar of white dust across her shoulders, shaped like a yoke for bearing burdens.
When Sheilah returned with Felix limping beside her, carrying in one hand a cheap straw suitcase, she went straight up to the Outsiders and announced smiling, 'This is my husband. He came to surprise me. I hadn't an idea! I want you all to meet him. I'll begin with you, Judith. Felix, this is Mrs. Lorimer, and next to her is Mr. Lorimer, and next to him'and she went around the entire circle, her voice light and lilting, her eyes bright, her head held high.
Afterward Felix murmured confusedly, 'Pleased to meet you,' and then holding out his hands for inspection, never well kept, but now covered with grease and grime, 'I guess I'm too dirty to shake hands with ladies.' He could feel the perspiration breaking out on his forehead (perhaps he shouldn't have said 'ladies.' Sheilah had told him one didn't any more), produced a soiled handkerchief and wiped his face.
'Was it a dusty trip?' Judith broke out nervously.
'I'll say so!' he answered, and wiped his face again. He hadn't an idea Avidon's was such a stylish place. Women with bare arms always made him feel uncomfortable anyhow.
'Have trouble with the car?' one of the men inquired pleasantly.
Felix glanced at him. He was dressed in cream-colored trousers with a crease that ran down to meet cream-colored shoes, a dark blue coat, and a burnt-orange tie. 'I'll say so!' again he answered, and then conscious of the contrast between himself and the man who had just addressed him, 'Gee! Sheilah,' he burst out, 'I'm so hot and sweaty, I guess I better go wash up.'
'Yes,' she agreed pleasantly, 'dinner is nearly ready. We must hurry.' She turned away with him.
Roger, who hadn't said a word, nor stirred, till now, suddenly stepped forward, and with half a dozen short, rapid strokes of his hand, brushed off the bar across Sheilah's shoulders. She looked around at him inquiringly. Their eyes met for a flickering instant.
'You were all over dust,' he said brusquely.
Inside the hotel Sheilah conducted Felix to the desk, and introduced him to the clerk in charge. The clerk swung the register around for Felix to sign.
'I'll have his things sent up to your room, I suppose, Mrs. Nawn?' he inquired. 'We often rent that room double.'
'Certainly,' Sheilah replied. (Her room—her lovely room, so unsuspecting). 'We'll go right up, Felix,' she smiled, and turning, led the way.
Inside the room, with the door closed, Felix stood gazing about him, not making a motion to remove his overcoat, nor the dust that lay so thick upon him.
'I didn't know it was such a swell place,' he said. 'I guess I oughtn't to have come.'
A wave of pity and compunction swept over Sheilah.
'Of course you ought.'
'I didn't know you'd made such a lot of swell friends.'
'They're not friends. Only acquaintances.'
'I've only got these clothes.'
'Never mind. You've got a clean shirt, haven't you?'
He nodded.
'That's all right then. I'll fix it for you while you wash. See what a darling little bathroom it is.'
'Probably they've all got Rolls Royces,' he murmured.
She went up to him close at that.
'What of it? I think the new car is lovely, Felix. I'm awfully pleased with it. It will be ever so nice having a car to take the children out.' She reached up and took hold of the lapels of his overcoat and gave him a little shake. She simply mustn't let him guess how near she was to bursting into bitter tears, how far from desiring what she now playfully demanded. 'Come kiss me, Felix,' she smiled. 'Really kiss me, I mean. You haven't seen me for six weeks! . . . There! That's right. Now take off your overcoat, open your suitcase, and I'll help you get dressed.'
Roger's table was in one corner of the dining-room and Sheilah's in another. He had liked the space that had intervened, because he could gaze at her profile to his heart's content, without observation. But to-night he did not gaze at Sheilah's profile. He did not see it. He saw only one thing, and he saw it the moment she entered the dining-room, with Felix limping behind her—a second white yoke across her shoulders!
He left the dining-room as soon as possible.
'Coffee, please, in the library,' he told the waitress, as he rose to go.
Frowning, his usually smooth and cloudless brow dark and brooding now, he went out onto the porch, standing a moment by the railing, gazing down into the valley shimmering in the moonlight he was to have shared with Sheilah. He turned abruptly away from the sight of it, and walking the length of the verandah, entered the library, deserted now, and flung himself down into a low, upholstered chair beside a small table with a single service of coffee upon it.