Part 27 (1/2)

”_I_ wasn't very happy,” said Alex. She was pa.s.sionately desirous of sympathy, and was full of youth's mistaken conviction, that unhappiness is provocative of interest.

Noel cheerfully and unconsciously disabused her of the idea.

”Of course, girls don't have nearly such a good time as boys do at school. But don't let's talk about rotten things like being unhappy. I always believe in taking things as they come, don't you? I never look back, personally. I think it's morbid. One ought always to be looking ahead. I tell you what I'll do, Alex--I'll give you a copy of Emerson's _Essays_. You ought to read them.”

Noel was very generous, and often made her presents. Alex was disproportionately grateful, but to her extreme, though unavowed relief, he never again claimed such a recognition as that which had followed the bestowal of her engagement-ring.

She drifted on from day to day, scarcely aware of her own unhappiness, but wondering bitterly why this, the supreme initiation, should seem to fail her so utterly, and still hoping against hope that the personal element for which she looked so avidly, might yet enter into her relation with Noel.

One day she told herself, with shock of discovery, that Noel was curiously obtuse. He had taken her with Lady Isabel and his brother Eric to Prince's skating-rink. Alex did not skate, but she enjoyed hearing the band and watching the skaters. Eric Cardew was among the latter, and Alex recognized Queenie Goldstein, in magnificent furs.

”Noel, do you see that very fair girl--the one in blue? She was my great friend at school.”

Alex at the same instant saw a look of fleeting, but unmistakable vexation on her mother's face at the description.

”Why, that's Mrs. Goldstein, isn't it?” said Noel, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his eyes in an interested look.

”Yes. I wish I could catch her eye.” Alex was reckless of her mother. ”I haven't talked to her for such a long while. Do you know her?”

”I've met her once or twice.”

”Couldn't you go and speak to her, and bring her over here?” asked Alex wistfully.

Noel looked at her, surprised.

”I don't think I can do that. She wants to skate.”

”Of course not,” broke in Lady Isabel. ”Don't be a little goose, Alex.

What do you want her for?”

”Oh, nothing,” Alex replied dejectedly, and also very crossly.

She was in the frame of mind that seeks a grievance, and her nerves were far more overstrained than she realized.

She felt a sudden, absolute anger when Noel said didactically:

”I don't think it would be very good manners for me to go and force myself on Mrs. Goldstein's notice. I don't know her at all well, and there are heaps of people who want to talk to her--just look at all those fellows!”

”You might do it just to please me,” muttered Alex, less from coquettery than from injured pride.

Noel became rather red, and after a minute he remarked in a severe voice:

”I must say, Alex, I think that's rather a ridiculous thing to say.”

Alex was silent, but from that day the spirit of resentment had at last awakened within her.

She became irritable, and although she still strove to persuade herself that her engagement meant the ultimate realization of happiness, she often spoke impatiently to Noel, and no longer sought to conform herself to the type of womanhood which he obviously desired and expected to find her.

The old sense of ”waiting for the next thing” was strong upon her, and she spent her days in desultory idleness, since Lady Isabel made fewer engagements for her, and Noel's calls upon her time were far from excessive.