Part 3 (1/2)

As for Mr. Raynor himself, though he seemed to Lorraine vulgarly proud of his self-made position, vulgarly ostentatious of his wealth, and vulgarly familiar with both herself and her mother, she could not actually lay any offence to his charge. And in any case, he undoubtedly could help her, if he chose, to procure at last the coveted part in a London theatre. With this end in view, she laid herself out to please him and to make the most of her opportunity.

And in this way she came to chose cross-roads which had to decide her future.

Before she had been a week in the house, Frank Raynor deserted his housekeeper altogether, and fell in love with the housekeeper's daughter. Within a fortnight he had laid all his possessions a Lorraine's feet, promising her not only wealth and devotion, but the brilliant career she so coveted.

The man was generous, but he was no saint. Give him herself, and she would have the world at her feet if he could bring it there. Give any less, and he would have no more to say to her whatsoever.

It was the cross-roads.

Lorrain struggled manfully for a month. She hated the idea of marrying a man better suited in every way to her mother. She dreaded and hated the thought of what had perhaps been between them; yet she was afraid to ask any question that might corroborate her worst fears.

All that was best in her of delicate and refined sensitiveness surged upward, and she longed to run away to some remote island far removed from the harsh realities of life.

Yet, how could she? Without money, without influence, without rich friends, what did the world at large hold for her?

How much easier to go with the tide - seize her opportunity - and dare Fate to do her worst.

At the last there was a bitter scene between mother and daughter.

”If you refuse Frank Raynor now, you ruin the two of us,” was Mrs.

Vivian's angry indictment. ”What can we expect from him any more? How are you ever going to get another such chance to make a hit?”

”And what if it ruins my life to marry him?” Lorraine asked.

”Such nonsense! The man can give you everything. What in the world more do you want? He is good enough looking; he could pa.s.s as a gentleman, and he is rich.”

A sudden nauseous spasm at all the ugliness of life shook Lorraine.

She turned on her mother swiftly, scarcely knowing what she said, and asked:

”You are anxious enough to sell me to him. What is he to you anyway?

What has he ever been to you?”

Mrs. Vivian blanched before the suddenness of the attack, but she held her ground.

”You absurd child, what in the world could he be to me? It is easy enough to see he has no eyes for any one but you.”

”And before I came?”

Lorraine took a step forward, and for a moment the two women faced each other squarely. The eyes of each were a little hard, the expressions a little flinty; but behind the older woman's was a scornful, unscrupulous indifference to any moral aspect; behind the younger's a hunted, rather pitiful hopelessness. The ugly things of life had caught the one in their talons and held her there for good and all, more or less a willing slave, the soul of the younger was still alive, still conscious, still capable of distinguis.h.i.+ng the good and desiring it.

The mother turned away at last with a little harsh laugh.

”Before you came he was nothing to me. He never has been anything.”

Without waiting for Lorraine to speak, she turned again, and added:

”If you weren't a fool, you would perceive he is treating you better than ninety-nine men in a hundred. He has suggested marriage. The others might not have done.”