Part 9 (2/2)
Whenever Patty looked around (for youth sits impatiently in church), always she met eyes, eyes, eyes. But she was a brave la.s.s, and more than once she beat aside the curious gaze. How she hated them! She knew what they were whispering, whispering. Her brother was going to marry an actress. She was proud of her brother's choice. He was going to marry a woman who was as brilliant as she was handsome, who counted among her friends the great men and women of the time, who dwelt in a world where mediocrity is unknown and likewise unwelcome. Mediocrity's teeth are sharp only for those who fear them.
Patty was nervous on her mother's account, not her own. It had been a blow to the mother, who had always hoped to have her boy to herself as long as she lived. He had never worried her with flirtations; there had been no youthful affairs. The mother of the boy who is always falling in love can meet the final blow half-way. Mrs. Bennington had made an idol of the boy, but at the same time she had made a man of him. From the time he could talk till he had entered man's estate, she had been constant at his side, now with wisdom and learning, now with laughter and wit, always and always with boundless and brooding love.
The first lesson had been on the horror of cruelty; the second, on the power of truth; the third, on the good that comes from firmness. It is very easy to make an idol and a fool of a boy; but Mrs. Bennington always had the future in mind. It was hard, it was bitter, that another should step in and claim the perfected man. She had been lulled into the belief that now she would have him all her own till the end of her days. But it was not to be. Her sense of justice was evenly balanced; her son had the same right that his father had; it was natural that he should desire a mate and a home of his own; but, nevertheless, it was bitter. That his choice had been an actress caused her no alarm. Her son was a gentleman; he would never marry beneath him; it was love, not infatuation; and love is never love unless it can find something n.o.ble and good to rest upon. It was not the actress, no; the one great reiterating question was: did this brilliant woman love her son? Was it the man or his money? She had gone to New York to meet Miss Challoner. She had steeled her heart against all those subtle advances, such as an actress knows how to make. She had gone to conquer, but had been conquered. For when Kate Challoner determined to charm she was not to be resisted. She had gone up to the mother and daughter and put her arms around them. ”I knew that I should love you both. How could I help it? And please be kind to me: G.o.d has been in giving me your son.” Ah, if she had only said: ”I shall love you because I love him!” But there was doubt, haunting doubt. If the glamour of married life wore out, and the craving for publicity returned, this woman might easily wreck her son's life and the lives of those who loved him.
She was very glad when the service came to an end and the stir and rustle announced the departure of the congregation.
At the door she found Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene. She rather expected to find her. They were enemies of old.
”Shall I congratulate you?” asked the formidable person.
Many of the congregation stopped. They hadn't the courage of Mrs.
Franklyn-Haldene, but they lacked none of her curiosity.
”You may, indeed,” returned Mrs. Bennington serenely. She understood perfectly well; but she was an old hand at woman's war. ”My son is very fortunate. I shall love my new daughter dearly, for she loves my son.”
”She is just splendid!” said Patty, with sparkling eyes. How she longed to scratch the powder from Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene's beak-like nose! Busybody, meddler! ”I never suspected John had such good sense.”
”You are very fortunate,” said Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene. She smiled, nodded, and pa.s.sed on into the street. A truce!
Mr. Franklyn-Haldene, as he entered the carriage after his wife, savagely bit off the end of a cigar.
”What the devil's the matter with you women, anyhow?” he demanded.
”Franklyn!”
”Why couldn't you leave her alone? You're all a pack of buzzards, waiting for some heart to peck at. Church!--bah!”
It was only on rare occasions that Mr. Franklyn-Haldene voiced his sentiments. On these occasions Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene rarely spoke.
There was a man in her husband she had no desire to rouse. Mr. Haldene was the exception referred to; he was not afraid of his wife.
They rode homeward in silence. As they pa.s.sed the Warrington place, Mr. Haldene again spoke.
”Warrington is home over Sunday. Saw him on horseback this morning.”
”There's one thing I'm thankful for: the wedding will not be in Herculaneum.”
”Humph!”
”It's disgusting; and we shall have to receive her. But I do not envy her her lot.”
”Neither do I,” said Haldene. ”You women have already mapped out a nice little h.e.l.l for her. Why should you be so vindictive simply because she is an actress? If she is good and honest, what the deuce?”
”There's no use arguing with you.”
”I'm glad you've found that out. You'd find out lots of other things if you stayed home long enough. I shall treat the woman decently.”
”I dare say all you men will.”
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