Marjorie Benton Cooke

“ You said once about Priscilla—'the obligations of being greatly loved'—they so disturb life."
"What do you know about it?" she flung out at him. "You've never loved in all your bloodless life."
"Louise!"
"I mean just that. You've no right to an opinion. You've gone along your way, watching, dissecting emotions, and putting the results in books. Well, what of it? What does that amount to—to you, Anthony Drake, the man? You've never leaped to heights undreamed of, and been flung to depths unthinkable, at the merest look of some one you love." ”

“ The Parson and Mrs. Martin laughed.
"Priscilla's flattery is direct," said Mrs. Martin. "Suppose you take her along and get her a cup of coffee, Parson; the poor child's tired to death already. I think every one is here. The cotillion is at ten, you know."
"Won't you go in my place, mother?"
"Mercy, no, child, I'm used to it! You run along."
"Come along, and make me the proudest man here," said The Parson, offering his arm.
"I wish to tell you once again that never in your life have you looked so 'gorjoose,'" murmured Peter to Mrs. Martin, as he joined her. ”

“ Why, all my love for you is just a sword to stab you with, and my love for him is—"
Mrs. Martin put her hand on Priscilla's arm and drew her down beside her. "Now, listen. It seems best that there should be truth between us at last. Years ago, when Tony first began to monopolize my life, I knew that I loved him, and after a year of bitter suffering I realized that he did not love me. After awhile I grew to believe that even a love that is unreturned was better than no love at all. ”

“ Priscilla felt that her question had been evaded. "'Old lady mother!' My most beautiful lady!" she protested. "Mother, I want to ask you about Mr. Drake."
"Well, dear, what of him?"
"You like him very much, don't you?"
"Yes, I like him very much, Priscilla."
"The Parson told me, when I first came home, that you made Mr. Drake."
"That's absurd, dear. No one makes a great man; he's born."
"But you helped him?"
"Yes, I helped him."
"I thought at first that perhaps you cared for each other."
Mrs. Martin turned her head on the pillow as if it burned her. ”

“ A dark flush mounted Drake's face, and burnt itself out in his hair. It might have been anger or embarrassment or shame.
"Yes," he answered finally.
"I thought so."
"No one ever dared to ask me that before," he added.
"Perhaps no one ever guessed," she said.
"Your mother knows," Drake confessed.
"Oh, mother—she knows everything. Isn't she wonderful?"
"She's the most wonderful woman I know."
"I'm so glad you think so, too. You see I've never had any one to talk to before about mother—any one who would understand, I mean." ”

“ Mother, have you wanted me ever?"
Mrs. Martin moved uneasily. "Don't let us be emotional, Priscilla; it is too great a strain. Let us just stick to the facts. We've lived our lives practically apart, and now we're going to try to live together in peace and happiness, but we mustn't demand too much of each other all at once."
"So—you haven't," Priscilla concluded simply, and her eyes never wandered from her mother's face. "Of course I don't see why you should, but I hoped—I think I don't care for any more tea." ”

“ They carried Priscilla up-stairs and put her on her bed, leaving Mrs. Martin and the doctor there. Drake stumbled down-stairs and into his den, where he could be alone. Once there, he put his head in his hands and groaned: "God! she can not die, do you hear me? She can not die!" Over and over he cried out his defiance to the powers of life and death, until it became mechanical.
The door flew open and Peter burst in, white-eyed and haggard. "Damn you, Drake!" he cried. "Damn you! You've killed her—you've killed her!" ”

“ Sorry you don't dance, Tony. Go make yourself agreeable to some other old lady!"
The dance began, and Drake betook himself to a vantage-point and watched the throng. Quite unconsciously, his attention concerned itself with the two figures, mother and daughter, that dominated the scene. Priscilla blew about the room like a bit of thistledown, a white butterfly, as he put it to himself, while Mrs, Martin, regal, imperious, directed and managed it all, as ever, the power and motive force. ”

“ Martin, who stood smilingly by, watching the encounter. He bowed to the rest, and his eye hovered a moment about Priscilla, who blushed furiously.
"No doubt the sermon is needed," he replied to Mrs. Crompton's fling. "What's the text?"
"Laugh not—that ye be not laughed at!" said Peter.
The Parson took him up. "That does very well—there is obvious need of a protest. We laugh at eveything—political juggling, moral intriguing, business dishonesty, they all amuse us—as part of a game. It is the crying evil of our day—to shrug the shoulders and to laugh." ”

“ Martin said. "There's no vestige left of the spiritual quality."
"It's useless to encourage illusions about yourself in other people's breasts, don't you think so, Parson?" she demanded.
"Illusions are so often safeguards, Mrs. Crompton. Even the best of us like a little haze between the observer and our innermost selves."
"If you weigh nearly two hundred, as I do, there is quite a thick haze between the observer and your innermost self," murmured Peter softly.
"Oh!" said Priscilla in protest.
The Parson smiled, turning to her. "My dear, they're all sick of this disease save you and me. ”

“ Crompton," said The Parson, sitting down beside her.
Peter returned to Mrs. Martin and the tea-table. "Where's Tony?" he asked.
"I don't know—he'll probably turn up later, but I never depend on him."
"Idiosyncrasies of genius, I suppose."
"No, just a Tonyism. It is one of the things that make him interesting."
"Ah, do you mind if I jot that down? Be unreliable and you will be interesting. If any man could be all that the world thinks Tony to be, he'd be the only living world-wonder in captivity."
"You're jealous, Peter."
"I am. I think the whole world runs mad on celebrities. ”

“ The year had brought slow but steady changes in Priscilla. The child whom Anthony Drake had married had blossomed into a woman during the days spent so much alone, and slowly into her life had come a love for Anthony so great and all-absorbing that it frightened her. ”

“ MRS. MARTIN sat on the couch, the chapters of Tony's book about her. Drake himself walked nervously about the room. She had been silently tearing out the heart of it for hours, and he had been on the rack, awaiting judgment.
Priscilla came in and out, watching them curiously, but they paid no attention to her. She felt the atmosphere charged with the same excitement that had surrounded Anthony that day she watched him put the finishing touches to the book. Indeed, there was the same strain in her mother's quick breathing, and the way she tossed aside page after page as she read them. ”

“ Didn't you want her to love you?"
"I wanted her to be fond of me; but love—there are such terrible obligations in being loved!"
"I've come to talk to you about love, myself."
"Don't—I can't bear anything more to-night. You are to stay to dinner, Tony, and protect me. You must keep that child's unblinking eyes off me, you must be the safety-valve, or I shall do something insane."
"Very well," he said quietly, "my case can wait, and to-night we'll attend to the case of Priscilla—that's her name, isn't it?"
"Yes, that's her name—Priscilla. ”

“ Priscilla said.
"So they are," Drake answered. "In another day or so we're over the edge and down toward fall."
"Too bad things can't ever stay at the height."
"You won't think so ten years from now."
They were silent for awhile, and when Priscilla looked around, The Parson was asleep.
"We're in the Seven League Boots," she said. "We're running away from the Devil to save The Parson."
"Poor Mrs. Crompton! Is she the Devil?" Drake laughed.
"Oh, no; I quite like Mrs. Crompton, don't you? She isn't as bad as she acts." ”

“ The Drakes had been in Italy nearly a year now, delightfully situated in an old Italian palace, with a wonderful garden. Anthony called it "Priscilla's garden," and threatened to write a poem thereon. Priscilla, however, found herself rebelling sometimes at the very perfection of their life. Her young, restive spirit longed for change, or for the old conditions of life at home in America. Then, too, her mother's letters of late seemed to hint at a loneliness too deep for words, and a want which none but Tony and Priscilla could fill. ”

“ Martin's attention for a time, and when they passed on Drake was beside her.
"So you decided to come?".
"Yes, I didn't want to hurt the little girl's feelings."
"Oh, I thought perhaps you came to see me."
"I did."
"Well, you're just in time to lead me away to the other end of the ballroom. It is time for Peter to get people seated. Isn't it a nice party, Tony?"
"Yes, great," he answered, as if he had just noticed that it was a party. "Where is your little girl?"
"Gone to get some coffee with The Parson. How do I look, Tony?" ”

“ You shamed me into being a decent creature, and what I am I owe to you. I've worked like a slave these three years just to prove to you that you weren't mistaken—that there was something to save, perhaps—and now, as far as the world goes, I'm a successful man."
"Why do you say, 'as far as the world goes'? Don't you consider yourself successful?"
"No, there's no such thing. I write books and they sell, and so some little men who call themselves critics say I'm the hope of the future, and such rot. Does that make me a big man? Does it make me a happy man? ”

“ Peter sprang to his feet. "Your father?" he cried. "Your father? Who wants to be your father?"
Priscilla rose, too, and faced him. "I mean that I don't think mother is in love with you."
"Well, what of it? You're the only one I care about."
"Me?"
"Yes, of course."
She blushed furiously. 'Oh, Peter!" she gasped. "You don't mean—me? I thought—oh, Peter!"
She ran away into the woods as fast as she could go, and Peter gave chase, At the first turn in the woods she plunged into Drake's arms. He stood quietly and held her until Peter was almost upon them. ”

“ Doesn't mother look lovely?" she added, catching sight of her as she passed the door.
"Yes, she does. She always does."
"Yes, but not always like to-night. I think people have heights of looks, like heights of happiness, don't you?"
"Do they? I'm afraid I don't notice those things much."
"No, I don't think you do—it shows in your books."
"Oh, does it?"
"Yes, you never make any one want to see your heroines, because you never care anything about seeing them yourself." ”

“ Martin. "She mustn't be jiggled at all; and if you should fall down-stairs with her, Peter, I would have you shot."
"Go 'way, lady," murmured Peter. He lifted Priscilla as if she were made of fragile china, and if his progress down the stairs and into the living-room was a trifle slow, one couldn't blame him, for Priscilla's head was on his breast and her arm about his neck. He put her down gingerly on the couch, and looked at her anxiously. "Are you all there?" he asked.
"That was splendid, Peter!" she smiled back. "Just as good as flying." ”

“ The Parson explained. "We're going to try to get you home in a wagon, if you think you can be moved."
"Yes, let's go home."
They put a mattress into a farm wagon and made her as comfortable as possible, the Parson sitting at her feet, to keep the rough bed steady, and Drake at her head. The farmer drove slowly and carefully. Every once in a while Drake swayed with heat and dizziness, but he pulled himself together, and once or twice, when Priscilla groaned, he came back from some other world, it seemed.
"Lie down beside her, Drake. I don't think you can hold out." ”

“ Crompton opened the bucket and promptly dropped it, whereupon a writhing mass of worms squirmed at her feet, and she fled.
"Oh, drat it!' said The Parson, on his knees, shoveling them back. "I forgot you were a woman."
"How can you!" she protested. "Why don't you shovel them in with the lid of the bucket?"
"They don't bite, you know," he assured her, baiting her hook. "Now we'll throw in our lines and walk along the shore until we get a good place."
"Not at all," said she; "I'll get a comfortable rock and sit there, and let the fish come to me." ”

“ She's rather pretty, I think; but she is not clever."
"That won't hurt her chances any. Most men prefer the other kind—at home."
Mrs. Martin looked at him fixedly a moment. "I wonder what she'll think of you, Tony?"
He flicked his ashes into the grate. "I assure you it's a matter of total indifference to me. I don't like girls."
"I suppose she'll think it's shocking for an old lady like me to have a beau."
"Am I a beau?"
"Aren't you?"
"No; I'm your creature—a thing you made with your own hands." ”

“ CHAPTER III
"WELL, Priscilla, how have you put in the morning?" asked Mrs, Martin, kissing her daughter's cheek as she sat down to the luncheon-table.
"Pretty well—but it's been rather long," the girl admitted. "I've arranged all the flowers, and settled my things in my room, but it didn't take quite all the time. Couldn't I have some regular morning things to do, mother, so I'd feel more settled here?"
"My dear, your regular morning thing to do will be to sleep, as soon as you get started socially. ”

“ They rode swiftly by the rich valley farms which flanked the road on either side, stretching away to the sky, that shut down over the earth like a lid to a huge pot. The air was hot and vibrant with midsummer noises. ”