Part 16 (1/2)
It was not possible that Warrington had the gloves; he would never have kept them all this while. What meant this man at her side? What was he going to do? She recollected a play in which there was a pair of gloves. The man had thrown them at the woman's feet, and, at the very altar, turned and left her. But she knew that men did not do such things in life. She was innocent of any wrong; this knowledge sustained her.
”A honeymoon in Switzerland: it has been the dream of my life.” This time he drew her arm through his and crossed the room to his mother's side. ”Mother mine, we shall be gone only three months; then we shall come home to stay.”
”I shall miss you so; you have been away so much that I am hardly acquainted with you.”
The woman who was to become her daughter suddenly dropped on her knees beside the chair.
”Please love me, too. I have been so lonely all my life.”
”My daughter!” Mrs. Bennington laid her hand on the splendid head.
”I shall never marry,” said Patty decidedly.
”What? Young lady, don't let any one hear you make such a remark. One of these fine days somebody will swoop you up and run off with you. I don't know but that I could play the part fairly well.” Warrington laughed.
”Indeed! You'd have a time of it.”
”I dare say. But there's the breakfast waiting.”
Toasts and good wishes, how easy they are to give!
At the church the women cried a little. Women cry when they are happy, they cry when they are not; their tears keep a man guessing year in and year out. But this is no place for a dissertation on tears.
There's time enough for that.
The bride and groom left immediately for Boston, from which city they were to sail for Europe the following day. In the carriage John drew his bride close to his heart.
”Mine!” he said, kissing her. ”G.o.d grant that I may make you happy, girl.”
”John, you are the finest gentleman in the world!”
His hand stole into his coat pocket and gently dropped something into her lap. She looked down and saw through her tears a crumpled pair of white kid gloves. Then she knew what manner of man was this at her side.
”It was not because I doubted you,” he said softly: ”it was because they were yours.”
Chapter VII
Spring came round again in Herculaneum. People began to go to the tailor and the dress-maker and the hatter. There were witty editorials in the newspapers on house-cleaning and about the man who had the courage to wear the first straw hat. The season (referring to the winter festivities) had been unusually lively. There had been two charity b.a.l.l.s by rival hospital boards, receptions, amateur dramatics, dinners and dances, not to omit the announcement of several engagements.
The new Bennington mansion had its house-warming in November. The reception, followed by a dinner-dance in the evening, was, according to the society columns, ”one of the social events of the season. The handsomest house in town was a bower of smilax and hothouse roses.”
Everybody went to the reception, for everybody was more or less curious to meet the former celebrated actress. The society reporters, waiting for their cues, were rather non-committal in their description of the mistress. There was reason. They did not care, at this early stage of the game, to offend the leader by too much praise of a newcomer who had yet to establish herself. Besides, they realized how little their paragraphs would mean to a woman whose portrait had appeared in nearly all the ill.u.s.trated magazines in the world. Thus, the half-heartedness of the newspapers was equally due to self-consciousness. Society itself, however, was greatly pleased with the beautiful Mrs. Bennington, for she entered with zest into all society's plans. In fact, she threatened to become very popular. The younger element began to call her Mrs. Jack.
Kate was in her element, for to live after this fas.h.i.+on was the one ambition that had survived all seasons. She was like a child with some wonderful new French doll. There was always a crowd of young married people about her, which is a healthy sign. She and Patty became inseparable comrades. They shopped together, went to the matinees, and drove and rode together.
Everything went along smoothly, too smoothly. Fate never permits anything like this to prosper long.
For the first time in her career Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene saw her position menaced. The younger set no longer consulted her as formerly.
When, like Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene, a woman has nothing more serious to live for than to organize social affairs, the slightest defection from her ranks is viewed in the light of a catastrophe. She had called on Mrs. Bennington the second, armed with all those subtle cruelties which women of her caliber know so well how to handle. And behold! she met a fencer who quietly b.u.t.toned the foils before the bout began. She had finally departed with smiles on her lips and rage in her heart.
This actress, whom she had thought to awe with the majesty of her position in Herculaneum, was not awed at all. It was disconcerting; it was humiliating. She had condescended to tolerate and was tolerated in turn. Katherine adored Patty, and Patty had told her that she hated Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene. Naturally Katherine a.s.sumed the defensive whenever she met the common enemy.