Susan Ertz

“ CHAPTER XV
“Bless you, Claire,” began Stephen’s next letter, “you make even my life worth living. Your letters are my one delight. All the same, we are poles apart in some things. You say, ‘Oh, the joy of wanting nothing!’ I would say, ‘Oh, the misery of wanting nothing!’ But fortunately there is one great want that keeps my old bones above ground, and that is the longing I have to see you and Judy and Eric again. Of course I was a fool not to marry. It may be fun to be a bachelor when you’re young, but it’s hell when you’re old. ”

“ After all, being an old woman is my rôle at present, and naturally it is a rôle I wish to play well. Perhaps you’ll say that I would accept old age less philosophically if I were blind, or deaf, or bedridden. I wonder? Even without all one’s faculties, surely there are thoughts and memories enough to furnish the mind. (Why, why, Stephen, don’t we cultivate contemplation?) And that tantalizing veil that shuts us off from the beyond should be wearing thin at our age, so that by watching and waiting one should be able to catch glimpses of what it hides. ”

“ Novels, Chip had said, that she would have hated. But he was wrong. There, on the mantelpiece with its tasseled, red velvet draping, were pictures of Chip as a baby, as a schoolboy, as a youth at Sandhurst, where he had acquired that absurd nickname of his, and as a First Lieutenant about to take his part in the South African war, from which campaign he had returned to find her gone. He had left everything as she had left it, and Judy was disposed to love him for it. Books were scattered about the room, and it had the air of being much lived in and much worked in. ”

“ You ask me for minute particulars concerning Judy. Is she happy, you ask? What am I to say to that? If she is not happy, she will always be too loyal to say so. I think she is clever enough to make her own happiness, or at least to attain to an average of contentment—an average that leans at moments toward the peaks of happiness on one side and toward the abyss of unhappiness on the other. And I think it is good for us to look both ways. Her love for Chip—and a very real love it is—has much in it of the maternal, a quality I think every woman’s love is the better for. ”

“ Won’t Connie adore being a widow again? Of course you won’t say anything to anybody yet, as it would be so awfully disappointing if it should turn out to be some one else. How callous I am! But if you could have seen him——!
“Well, Stephen and I have been seeing life, and rolling about in Mr. Colebridge’s car. The man won’t take no for an answer when it comes to going out with him. Yesterday we went to the most wonderful little town—Gourdon, its name was—perched on top of a mountain, like an eagle, and looking over the Mediterranean for endless miles. ”

“ When Robert Gregory died, leaving her a widow of sixty, she was speedily—too speedily some said—sought in marriage by their lifelong friend, Stephen de Lisle. That was eighteen years ago. Refused by her, and perhaps made to feel just a little an old fool, he went abroad in one of his black tempers, and she had not heard one word from him since. It was a great sorrow to her, for both she and her husband had loved him devotedly. The grandchildren, especially Judy and Noel, thought it a delightful romance. They liked having a grandmother who had refused a famous man at sixty and broken his heart. ”

“ And then, when there is a little peace, faith creeps back into people’s hearts again, and a belief in God. And they wonder how the madness came, and they try to wipe out the blood stains and live sanely again. And they go back to work in the fields and stop hating each other. Perhaps they have learned something. Not always. But they have got tolerance again, and a belief. And with those two things they can begin once more. To believe in something beyond this world, to have faith in the destiny of the soul ... ”

“ Then, turning to Noel, “I want you to meet Monsieur Petrovitch, Noel. My nephew ...”
Noel, standing behind his chair and feeling younger and more intolerant than he had ever felt in his life, inclined his head.
“Eh? Your nephew? Charmed.” The great man bowed, impressively. “Are you too a lover of music?” He bent his frowning gaze upon the young man. “But no, you are English. So, you will say, is the adorable aunt. But she is different. She is of the world, eh? She loves beauty, art, genius.” He moved his large hands. “Ah, Connie, you and I had much in common. ”

“ Noel gave an amused chuckle.
“Connie, you really are a joy. You to ask ‘Who is he? What is he?’ Don’t you try to take a leaf out of mother’s book. It isn’t your rôle.”
“Judy’s my niece, after all,” protested Connie. “Isn’t it natural that I should be interested?”
“Natural enough,” said Noel. “I hope you are. Ask me if he’s a good fellow, and if I think he could make her happy, and I’ll be delighted to answer you. But ‘who is he?’ ... that sort of tosh.... I should think you’d earned the right to be human, if anybody had.”
“Very well,” answered his chastened aunt. “Is he good enough?” ”

“ Love may have told her how to spread the net, but of the cage in which to keep him she knew less than nothing.
Madame Claire understood better than any one else that he felt ties of the spirit far more than he felt ties of the flesh. That peculiarity he had inherited from her, for she had often been heard to say that she loved Eric because he was Eric and not because she had borne him. She declared that her affection for Judy and Noel was entirely due to their own charm and attraction for her, and had nothing to do with the fact that they were her grandchildren. ”

“ Chip wondered if she were making fun of love, or whether she was merely holding the schoolgirl’s idea of it up to scorn. He didn’t know. He had never expected to find a love that would transform the world, and he had found it. What he had yet to discover was that women, after all, are the terrible realists. Men manage to preserve their illusions better. Few of them love with their eyes open, and women only really love when their eyes are open. ”

“ Madame Claire had never seen her cry before, and the sight seemed to her very pitiful. Her tears made her seem younger.
“It is like that.” Her voice came muffled from the handkerchief she was pressing to her face. ”But I’m helpless. I can’t be different. I tell you I can’t. The more Eric tries to be nice to me, the more I harden toward him. The more I want to meet him half way, the less I’m able to. I’m not hard, really; I long to be different. But it’s too late. It’s grown on me now. I can’t stop it. I suppose I must go on like this forever. My life is a misery to me.” ”

“ Judy laughed.
“Helen likes patronizing the arts. The arts are very fashionable just now in her set. I like Helen, really. If only she and her friends weren’t so fond of posing—and they find new poses every year—one would like them better. But it isn’t as if Noel were marrying her. Gordon has always seemed to belong to other people’s families more than to his own, and now of course he’ll be entirely absorbed by Lord Ottway’s, and their friends and relations.” ”

“ How pleasant it would be if we could have appropriate music at all crucial, or difficult, or delightful moments in our lives! When one is first introduced to one’s husband’s relations, for instance. I think Chopin would help to tide us over that. In a bloodless battle with one’s dressmaker over a bill, I would recommend Tchaikowsky, or Rimsky-Korsakov. For moments of deep feeling, for love, we would each, I imagine, choose something different. I think I would choose Bach, for Bach is too great for sentiment. As for dying—every one should die to music. ”

“ If Louise had been accustomed to self-examination, she would have realized that she was less unhappy than she had been for some years. She was indeed conscious of an odd satisfaction. Eric, then, was less perfect than his friends and family believed. There was a chink in that shining armor, his light had suddenly become dimmed. That woman in Paris—she was not young—it had evidently been going on for years. Or was it the renewal of some old affair? Her informant had managed to convey to her that her husband’s—“cousin did you say?”—had not looked—well—quite of their world. ”

“ Madame Claire called once more on the deity who understands women.
“And yet, Louise,” she said, with all her courage, “you love him. You love Eric. I know you do. Some day you may find out how much, and it may be too late. That will be the tragedy. You’ll know that you had only to reach out your hand—you’re like a child, you know. Have you ever seen a child while playing with other children, receive some fancied slight, and withdraw, hurt? I have. The other children don’t even know what the trouble is, and they go on with their game. The hurt child stands apart, lonely and miserable. ”

“ At half-past four a waiter brought in tea, and Miss McPherson, with color in her cheeks, came in to officiate. Judy had talked herself out for the present, so left the conversation to the other two, who sparred in what appeared to be their customary way. She watched the sky deepen to the larkspur blue of night, and saw the lights come pricking out in the harbor, and heard the yacht bells and far-off voices, and knew that she was very content. ”

“ Had he heard anything more from Helen about meeting influential people, Judy asked? No, he hadn’t. She had forgotten all about it, no doubt. He was rather relieved that she had.
“People have no time for failures,” Chip said, “and quite right too. A man who has reached the age of forty-four without accomplishing anything is a failure.”
“That’s tosh!” said Noel. “Every one’s a failure at some time of their lives. The thing is to see that it isn’t chronic.”
The old Cornish woman came in and laid the table for supper, bringing with her an extra lamp. ”

“ I’ve been reading a great deal, and I have come to the unalterable conclusion that men like Crooks, Myers, Lodge and Doyle know what they are talking about. Some of us take our religion on trust. Others of us want to find out. Having floundered in a sea of agnosticism all my life long, I now begin to feel the ground beneath my feet. I got more out of the ‘Vital Message’ in an hour than I’ve got out of parsons in seventy years. I believe that if Spiritualism were rightly understood, it would fuse all religions and all sects. ”

“ When she was twenty-two, she married a perfectly suitable young man, and Madame Claire hoped that the then serious duties of wifehood and motherhood would fill her shallow little head to the exclusion of dark romancing. But they had been married less than a year when Petrovitch with his leonine head and his matchless playing became the rage of London, and Connie, in company with a good many other women of her type, threw her youth and beauty, like a bouquet of flowers, at his feet. ”

“ You see, I like the present day, Major Crosby. I like it far better than what people call my own day, though why this one isn’t just as much mine as it is anybody’s, I really don’t know.”
“You’re very greedy,” Judy told her. “You had Disraeli and Gladstone and Jenny Lind, and now you want Lloyd George and Charlie Chaplin. All the same, I don’t wonder you like our age best. That one was so full of hypocrisy and sentiment.”
Madame Claire agreed with this.
“We were always pretending things. Men were always gentlemen or monsters. Young girls were always innocent as flowers. ”

“ My wife has seen fit to divorce me, and I do not regret it. Like most American and English women (to this rule, you, my beautiful Connie, are a notable exception) she must have her husband tied to her apron string. He must have no existence of his own. I—I with my talents, my work that is my life, I, if you please, must remain in America at her side! She could not share me with the world. It is not enough for her that she is the wife of Illiodor Petrovitch. He must be a tame bear to perform tricks for her. Ah, Connie, you understood! ”

“ His quiet manner of welcoming them seemed to Judy to contrast almost humorously with his friend’s bluff cheeriness.
He had a nervous little speech all ready for them.
“I’m ashamed,” he said, “to be the cause of all this bother. It’s most awfully good of you to come. You’ll forgive my not getting up, won’t you? I’m not allowed to, for some reason.”
“I should hope not,” said Noel, as they shook hands.
“As for being a bother,” Judy told him, “that’s the sort of thing invalids say when they know they’re not strong enough to be shaken. ”

“ When you pull yourself together and make up your mind to be another type, you’ll cease to be a spinster. But not before.”
Judy sat down, facing him. It always amused her to discuss herself with Noel.
“Am I the spinster type?” she asked.
“Well, aren’t you? It’s fairly obvious. Look at this room!...”
“My dear boy,” she retorted, “I’d have a room like this if I had ten husbands—or even lovers, for that matter. You’ll have to do better than that. How else am I the spinster type, apart from my room?”
“You’re a spinster in your mind,” he asserted. “You think celibately.” ”

“ But, Stephen, how could you expect Robert’s widow, already a grandmother, to have married again? That, my dearest friend, would have been an elderly folly for which I would never have forgiven myself. You sulked badly, Stephen, and I think now you owe it to your years and mine to laugh. Do laugh! There is nothing like the mirth of old age, for old age knows why it laughs.
“You say you want me to write you about everything that concerns myself. I know you are only trying to cover up your tracks here, for the one you really want to hear about is Judy. ”

“ If fame ever comes to Chip it will come in spite of him.
“Judy has made their small flat a really delightful place, but entertaining, except in the most informal way, is of course impossible. No one thinks less of human pomps than I do, but given different opportunities, Judy might have been something of a Mademoiselle de Lespinasse. Her charm is extraordinary. She has ‘come out’ wonderfully since her marriage, and it is easy to see that she will develop into an uncommon woman. If Chip will only develop with her—but I pray that he will. ”

“ This struck Eric as humorous, but not a sign of his amusement appeared in his face.
“Where is Petrovitch now?” he asked her.
She smiled to a passing acquaintance before she answered.
“In America, I believe. Still lionized and applauded. It seems to me, Eric, that men have nine lives to a woman’s one. Look at me ... a worn-out wreck, while he——”
“A bad fellow, Connie,” said Eric; at which she bit her lip.
“I can’t let you say that. I love him.” ”

“ He wanted to be convincing even while he hoped to be convinced.
“All I ask you to do,” said Madame Claire, “is, for your own sake, to give yourself a chance. There are obstacles, admittedly, but don’t begin by throwing up earthworks as well. Don’t make obstacles. Mind you, I’m not encouraging you. I only know that Judy likes you more than she likes most people. Beyond that I’m completely in the dark. Yes, Dawson?”
“Please, m’lady,” said Dawson from the doorway, “can you see Miss Connie?”
“Yes. Ask her to come in. No, don’t go, Major Crosby. You’ve met my daughter, Countess Chiozzi.” ”

“ Once you give people credit for being odd, nothing that they do surprises you. What’s so difficult is to give people credit for being simple. Now if Louise would only understand that you are very simple——”
“Am I?”
“Very. You’re one of the least complex people I’ve ever known. None of my children are complex. Not even Connie, who thinks she is. By the way, have you seen her lately?”
“Not for several days. I called at her hotel just before coming here, but she was out.”
“Yes, didn’t you know? This is the afternoon of Petrovitch’s concert. She’s there, with Noel.” ”

“ Coming to earth with such a bump as that was too much for me. He mistook my silence for something else, and when I saw him take off his hat and remove his cigar from his mouth, I knew what was coming. I’m afraid I was rather ruthless. If he hadn’t called me ‘little girl’ I might have been kinder. At any rate I fled back to Stephen who couldn’t climb the hill leading to the town; and left Mr. Colebridge gazing into space. Probably planning where the funicular should go. No, that’s unfair. Anyhow, I left him, and when he joined us he was silent for once. I do like him, but marry him—oh, no, no! ”

“ Judy says he is doing it for me, but of course that’s nonsense. He says he has no doubt that the plays will put Judy and Chip ‘on Easy Street.’
“Now that I call gallant. To make your rival’s fortune is not the end and aim of most disappointed lovers. There is style about that. I like Mr. Colebridge. He comes here quite often to see Stephen and me, and while I admit that I like him and—yes—even admire him, I do not, I confess, like him best when he is sitting in my garden, oblivious to its beauties and to the cajoleries of a most divine autumn, talking about sugar stocks. ”

“ She had been wise in sending Judy to him!
“It’s amazing,” Stephen wrote, “how much there is of you in Judy. She has your way of understanding what one wants to say almost before one has said it. She doesn’t make me feel an old man. We talk as equals. She is very human and is gifted with real humor, which means that she enjoys the humorous side of mankind. I think that her not very happy youth—for it’s obvious that she has been far from happy at home—has given her a certain depth and insight.
“She is much amused by an old friend of mine, 244 an American named Colebridge. ”

“ For women are meant to see faults, being the mothers of children, and their critical faculties are more on the alert.
Judy had looked for a miracle. She had been searching for a fairy castle, and now found herself becoming interested in an imperfect modern dwelling. Chip had not asked for a miracle, and lo! it had come to pass. He listened to Judy making fun of romantic love—which she did with great satisfaction to herself until interrupted by tea—and refused to believe that she meant what she said. For romantic love does undoubtedly come to very simple people, and Chip was very simple. ”

“ She heard that her husband had been seen in Paris. It came out quite naturally during the conversation. It also appeared that he had been seen at some private hotel with a lady. “I dare say—a relation?” The cousin’s voice had an inquiring note. “I dare say you’ll know who it was if I describe her. A tall lady, my friend said, not very young. Fair.” And Louise said, with her brain whirling, “Oh, yes, a cousin.“ The visitor nodded. “So odd, wasn’t it, my friend having seen your husband? One never expects to see any one one knows in Paris. It’s not like dear London.” ”