Part 3 (1/2)
”We are living in Paradise,” added Rose.
”Paradise!” cried Mrs. Filmer. ”And we have to keep ten servants!
Paradise! Impossible! This morning the laundress was also homesick for New York; and she has gone back there. I could have better spared any two other servants; for she was clever enough to deserve the laundress's vision of St. Joseph--'with a lovely s.h.i.+ning hat, and a s.h.i.+rt buzzom that was never starched in this world.' Harry, why do people like to go to New York, even in the summer time?”
”Well, mother, if people have to work for their living, New York gives them a money-making impression. I always catch an itching palm as soon as I touch its pavements.”
”I did not think you were so mercenary, Harry.”
”We are nothing, if we are not mercenary. What a gulf of yawns there is between us and the age that listened to the 'large utterance of the early G.o.ds'!”
”I do not complain of the 'gulf,' Harry; _au contraire_;--here comes the mail! and the commonplaces of our acquaintances may be quite as agreeable as the 'what?' of the early G.o.ds!” Mrs. Filmer was unlocking the bag as she spoke, and distributing the letters. Rose had several, and she went to her room to read and answer them, leaving Adriana and Harry to amuse themselves. They went first to the piano, and, when tired of singing, strolled into the woods to talk; and as the day grew warm, they came back with hands full of mountain laurel and wild-flowers. Then Harry began to teach Adriana to play chess; and she learned something more than the ways of kings and queens, knights and bishops. Unconsciously, also, she taught as well as learned; for a young lovable woman, be she coquette or _ingenue_, can teach a man all the romances; this is indeed her nature, her genius, the song flowing from her and returning never again.
After lunch Rose took Adriana away, with an air of mystery. ”I have had a most important letter,” she said, with a sigh, ”from poor d.i.c.k--d.i.c.k Duval! He is simply broken-hearted. And d.i.c.k has quite a temper, he does not like suffering so much. I feel that I really ought to see him.”
”When is he coming, Rose?”
”He can _never_ come here. All my family are against d.i.c.k. Harry quarrelled openly with him at the club; and papa--who hardly ever interferes in anything--met him in the hall one night, and opened the front door for him.”
”What does Mrs. Filmer say?”
”Mamma says d.i.c.k is a physical gentleman and a moral scamp; and she forbids me to speak or write to him. That is the whole situation, Yanna.”
”It is a very plain one, Rose. There is nothing to discuss in it. You ought not to answer his letter at all.”
”d.i.c.k says he will blow his brains out, if I do not see him.”
”How absurd!”
”You do not know what love is, Yanna.”
”Do you, Rose?”
”Not unless I am in love with d.i.c.k.”
”I am sure you are not in love with d.i.c.k. You are far too conscientious, far too morally beautiful yourself, to be in love with a moral scamp. I know that you would not do anything deliberately wrong, Rose.”
”Do not swear by me, Yanna. I cannot swear by myself. I have actually told d.i.c.k that I will meet him next Monday--at your house.”
”Indeed, Rose, you must destroy that letter.”
”It is a beautiful letter. I spent two hours over it.”
”Tear it into fifty pieces.”
”But d.i.c.k can call at your house, and I will just 'happen in.' There is no harm in that. You can be present all the time, if you wish.”
”I will ask father. Of course, I must tell him the circ.u.mstances.”
”And of course, he will go into a pa.s.sion about his honor, and his honor to Mr. Filmer, and all the other moralities. You are real mean, Yanna.”
”I am real kind, Rose. Please give me the letter. You know that you are going to do a wicked and foolish thing. Rose, I have always thought you a very angel of purity and propriety. I cannot imagine a man like this touching the hem of your garment. Give me the letter, Rose. Positively, it must not go to him.”