Mary Imlay Taylor

“ Literary men were always there, artists, musicians, scientists; it was said of Mrs. White that she would entertain a famous thief if he had wit. But there had been another and a more potent attraction for Fox; he had found the seclusion of Judge Temple’s library, the old judge’s slow and studious speech, the magnificent voice of Rose, more potent charms than the conversation and music of Margaret’s salon. ”

“ Had they suffered as she had suffered they would rejoice, as she did, at the thought that there were divorces, that one could be free again!
Free—good heavens! Not to see him every day, not to hear his voice, with that mean, trivial rasp in it, not to be one of his chattels!
And Rose? Margaret did not allow herself to dwell too long upon that vision of the girl’s young figure, her fair, animated face against the background of the cedars and the sky. Was she jealous of her? That was an ignominy too deep to contemplate without bitter self-abasement; she refused to believe it! ”

“ She gave way then to the passion and the rage of her grief, she forgot all Christian maxims, and in her heart stormed against Margaret again, not against Margaret’s lover. But the fury of her mood passed, leaving her pale and wan, exhausted by it, but still unsubmissive. It was no longer an unusual thing to wash away the stains of tears and go down stairs with a smile. It occurred to her as she smoothed her rumpled hair and made her toilet for the evening that she had learned the alphabet of deceit too easily, she was a veritable whited sepulchre. ”

“ What had she read in the kindled [76] sympathy of that look at Rose Temple? She bit her lip, staring into the mirror with haggard eyes. Could he give her up? She, who knew so much of the brutal egotism of which a man can be capable, she who had seen such a nature as White’s revealed in the scorching intimacy of married life,—dared she picture Fox as unselfish enough to be still true to her, to content himself with comforting her wretchedness when love and youth and beauty—beauty such as she had never worn—might be his? Her sore heart throbbed passionately in her bosom. ”

“ Eve would never have blamed Adam in her heart if there had been any one for Adam to flirt with, but therein lay Eve’s profound superiority over her descendants—she was the only woman!
But Rose knew Margaret, knew her charm, her subtilty, her daring, and she battled with herself, trying to beat down her secret condemnation of the woman only. She was a stern little moralist, and she tried to be just; Fox must be to blame also, for was not Margaret married? The enormity of his offense could not be excused; besides, as she reflected, with a gnawing pain at her heart, of what avail to argue? ”

“ God didn’t mean that women should feel the same about it.”
“A great many do break the bonds,” said Margaret eagerly, “and begin all over again; why shouldn’t I?” she spoke with the force of longing; hour after hour she had argued thus with herself, yet at a word her soul leaped up unconvinced and the battle began all over again; that inexorable law which binds a woman’s life and fixes it in the orbit of eternity had laid hold upon her.
“A great many do?” Mrs. Allestree’s thin lips tightened and she looked away. Then she rose and gathered up her gloves and her parasol and her spectacles. ”

“ She made no reply; she could have answered that she had given up Fox to marry him, but the sting of the insult cut her to the quick, his allusive familiar tone was a whiplash. She turned away, her white face set, a singular light in her eyes. The passion of her hatred of him at that [82] moment was almost beyond restraint; her very flesh quivered under the throb of her maddened nerves. His coarseness, his brutality, his sensuousness revolted her; she felt, under the sting of his lecture, a mere bondswoman, and her fetters fairly burned into her soul. ”

“ Martha O’Neal was an old, old woman, the widow of a famous and wealthy jurist, and she was herself famous as a hostess and a social leader. Her eyes were still bright and keen, though her hair was white as snow; she knew everybody, everybody knew her; a worldly old woman who pursued society with the eagerness of a young débutante, played bridge for high stakes, smoked cigarettes in an exquisite holder of gold and amber, hurried to receptions, balls and routs with a tottering gait and a slightly vibrating head ”

“ Rose sighed. His words revealed her own thought, she knew that Margaret sought divorce to marry Fox; it was hideous to her, unpardonable, and Fox? She was silent, looking at the pictured face, seeing its mystical beauty, that weird suggestion of an unhappy fate which seemed to shadow its wild loveliness. Allestree had only dimly conveyed it, but Rose’s memory supplied the details. No wonder that men fell under her spell; there was a charm as subtle as it was absolute in her whole personality. ”

“ The wages of sin is death.
She rose, rose with an effort of will for her knees shook under her, and drawing herself together, summoning all her strength and her pride to hide the agony which was devouring her heart, she drew down her veil and slipped out unnoticed, silent, like a shadow. Once at the door, beyond the ring of that terrible young voice, she paused and steadied herself by laying her hand on a pillar of the portico. ”

“ He seemed to feel the [145] heated, perfumed atmosphere, the pressure of Margaret’s fingers on his arm, her wild, sweet smile when she proclaimed her love for him without shame—how vividly he saw it! And her absolute belief in his unchanged love for her! Infatuation, madness, self-deception, it might be all these and more, but she was a woman—and she had flung herself upon his mercy!
As yet that other aspect of the affair, the blighting of his public career which such a scandal might in a measure effect, had not thrust itself upon him; his only thought was for Rose. ”

“ O’Neal was the first to bid her good-night. The old lady in her gorgeous panoply of silk and velvet tottered on, like an ancient war-horse answering the bugle call, her white head vibrating as she talked. Still athirst for social power and success, no one was a keener judge of achievements, and she patted Margaret’s hand.
“My dear,” she whispered, “you’re the most charming creature in the world when you choose! I’m old enough to tell you.” ”

“ Fox groaned, covering his own face with his hands. His anger against her of a moment before smote him with horrible reproach. Living, he had ceased to love her, dead, she seemed suddenly to fill his life to the exclusion of all else; she came to him [302] again in the guise of her thoughtless, happy, inconsequent youth which had forged the links between them. He rose and began to walk the floor, his pale face distorted with passion. “My God!” he cried suddenly; “I—Allestree, is it possible that she divined the truth? That she knew me for what I was, a sham, a mockery, a whited sepulchre?” ”

“ Meanwhile, unconscious of his eyes and certainly proudly disdainful of his thoughts, the society beauty, the Cabinet minister’s wife, trailed through the dingy shop and passed out by the side door, which Lerwick opened for her, to the stairs of Allestree’s studio. As she ascended, the cloud which had rested on her face slightly cleared and her expression grew more decisive; the desolate misery of her heart had taken a more concrete form, she had arrived at last at a resolution. She had reached a point where she must resist or die. ”

“ The throng had closed up again, the gay murmur of talk rose; the musicians were just beginning to play a waltz and the ballroom was filling with dancers.
Margaret, laughing and talking gayly, stood in the door. Fox, looking across at her, experienced a feeling of deep amazement. What an actress a woman can be! It seemed to him that he had dreamed that scene in White’s house, that it was impossible, untrue, a phantasm of his troubled brain. ”

“ A marriage with Fox then would have meant the renunciation of everything which seemed to her essential to existence, it would have combined the miseries of cheap living and self-denial, of small and hideous economies, which made her shudder even to contemplate; she had always been a sybarite. Brought up by an extravagant, pleasure-loving mother, by a father who had spent all to live well, Margaret had been unable to conceive anything more horrible than genteel poverty, and White had offered her a dazzling vista of wealth, position, social success. ”

“ Old as she was, she felt the indescribable spell of Fox’s genius, and knowing her son’s heart as she did, she foresaw difficulties in the way of his happiness if his cousin should forget his old love and find a new one. Much as she had desired and endeavored to break up the unfortunate intimacy between Fox and the Whites, she had not foreseen that her own son’s happiness might be, in a way, dependent on Margaret’s power to hold her place in the regard of her early lover. ”

“ At the dinner Margaret was the most conspicuous and observed figure at the table; she was strikingly dressed in white satin, her lace bodice fastened on the shoulders with jewels, her long, slender throat wound with pearls, and the black lace scarf—which she wore in deference to her hostess who was dining a cardinal—only accentuated the peculiar pallor of her face and the whiteness of her bare arms. ”

“ Rose was silent, she felt herself a mere puppet in Mrs. Allestree’s hands; the old woman was as shrewd and as skilful as the most worldly matchmaker in her gentle and affectionate way; besides she adored her son and, like most mothers, she was willing to offer up any sacrifice which seemed to her sufficiently worthy for immolation. There was a moment of embarrassment on Rose’s part, and she was glad to see the Wicklow White motor-car coming swiftly toward them. ”

“ She was a figure as symbolic of youth with its splendid hopes, its faith, its untried strength, as she was the very personification of beautiful womanhood.
No one spoke, no one applauded, but not an eye was dry.
But to Rose, whose ears were not filled with her own music, the silence which followed it came with a shock of terrible revulsion. She waited a [313] moment in keen suspense, but no one spoke, no one moved; the wave of silence that followed the wave of sound engulfed her hopes, she remembered that first disappointment. ”

“ He came out of the same door which had, a few moments earlier, emitted his critics, and as he emerged upon the terrace the keen light from the electric globes at the head of the steps fell full on his remarkable face and figure. For, while by no means above the average in stature, Fox possessed one of those personalities which cannot be [5] overlooked. Genius like beauty has magnetic qualities of its own and, even at night and out of doors, Allestree was fully aware of the singular brilliance and penetration of his glance. ”

“ Rose walked to and fro, trying to distract her mind; if she relaxed a moment she heard Fox’s voice, saw his strong pale face. It was pathetically significant that Allestree, and Allestree’s pain at her finality had dropped from her mind. Love [223] and youth are absolutely selfish, they ignore the universe.
When she came home that day and was alone in her room, she had shed some passionate tears; her young strong heart had rebelled utterly; she wanted happiness too, wanted it as bitterly as Margaret did, but Margaret had robbed her of it! ”

“ She had come at last to look upon the beautiful house, the lavish display, the sumptuous living as so much gilded misery, and, possessing no talisman to give her contentment, her stormy nature spent itself in rebellion and in a growing regret for her own folly. She saw, at last, in Fox all the qualities which she most admired; her mind answered his with a subtilty, a kindred sympathy which seemed to assure her of his love, to justify her assumption that his feeling had never changed. ”

“ A swift electrifying realization of the scene tore away his selfish absorption; his manner of asking her had been almost an insult to her high spirited pride, to her love, which had humiliated itself by the first confession on that night in the deserted ballroom where she had poured out the wretchedness of her soul. She had come to him wounded, homeless, and he had all but cast her off in his passionate selfishness, his hatred of the loveless marriage which his honor had bound him to make. ”

“ A shudder of anguish shook her slight frame and stole the blood from her lip; stripped at last of all illusions, facing the immutable laws of life, she felt as though she had been thrust out into the streets homeless, and naked, and ashamed; a wrecked soul to wander henceforth up and down on the face of the earth and find no place. How strange, how different from yesterday! The tremulous love, the hope half justified, the unscrupulous, unflinching desire for happiness—where were they? ”

“ Allestree smiled a little as he began to paint, with a slow and reluctant touch, feeling his way toward some achievement which might at least foreshadow success. “I fancied there was a virtue in silence; there’s a copy-book axiom to that effect,” he remarked; “besides, you would never come here at all punctually if you are not left in doubt on some mooted point. Mystery lures a woman as surely as magic.”
Rose gave him a reproachful glance. ”

“ Her character, which was just emerging from the malleable sweetness of girlhood, had begun to feel the impress of her father’s stern morality. With Rose right was right, and wrong was wrong; there was no middle course. She had an exalted conception of duty and the sacrifices that one should be ready to make for a principle. She had never tested any of these admirable theories in the fiery furnace of temptation, but she had a shadowy notion that if she had lived in the age of Nero she should have offered her body to be burned to save her soul alive. ”