CHAPTER VI
PLOT AND COUNTER-PLOT
Mr. Heatherbloom drifted; not "looking for a way", one was forced uponhim. It came to him unexpectedly; chance served him. He would havethrust it from him but could not. During his more or less eccentricperegrinations in Central Park he had formed visual acquaintances withsundry folk; pictures of some of them were very dimly impressed on hisconsciousness, others--and the major part--on his subconsciousness.
Flat faces, big faces, red faces, pale faces! One countenance in thelast class made itself a trifle more insistent than the others. Itspossessor had watched with interest his progress, interrupted withentanglements, and had listened to the music of his march, the caninefantasia, staccato, affettuoso! Mr. Heatherbloom's halting footstepsin the park generally led him to the heights; it wasn't a very highpoint, but it was the highest he could find, and he could look off onsomething--a lake, or reservoir of water, he didn't know just which, anda jagged sky-line.
The person that exhibited casual curiosity in his movements and hiscoming thither was a woman. She seemed slight and sinuous, sitting thereagainst the stone parapet, and deep dark eyes accentuated the pallor ofher face. He did not think it strange she should always be at this spotwhen he came; in fact, it was quite a while before he noticed the almostdaily coincidence of their mutual presence at the same place, at aboutthe same time. After her first half-sly, half-sedulous regard of him,she would look away; her face then wore a soft and melancholyexpression; she appeared very sad.
It took quite a while for this fact to be communicated to Mr.Heatherbloom. Though she shifted her figure often, as if to callattention to the pale profile of her face against a leaden sky, histhoughts remained introspective. Only the sky-line seemed to interesthim. But one day something white came dancing in the breeze to his feet.Absorbed in deep neutral tones afar, he did not see it; his four-footedcharges, however, were quick to perceive the object.
"Oh!" said the lady.
Mr. Heatherbloom looked. "Is--is it yours?" he asked.
"It--was," she remarked with a slight accent on the last word.
He got up; there seemed little use endeavoring to rescue thehandkerchief now.
"I'm afraid I've been rather slow," he remarked. "Quite stupid, I'msure."
She may have had her own opinion but maintained a discreet silence. Mr.Heatherbloom stooped and gathered in the remnants. "You will permit me,"he observed, "to replace it, of course."
"But it was not your fault."
"It was that of my charges, then."
"No; the wind. Let's blame it on the wind." She laughed, her dark eyesfull on his, though Mr. Heatherbloom seemed hardly to see them.
After that when they met on this little elevation, she bowed to him andsometimes ventured a remark or two. He did not seem over-anxious to talkbut he met her troubled face with calm and unvarying, though somewhatabsent-minded courtesy. He replied to her questions perfunctorily, toldher whom he served, betraying, however, in turn, no inquisitivenessconcerning her. For him she was just some one who came and went, andincidentally interfered with his study of the sky-line.
By degrees she confided in him; as one so alone she was glad of almostany one to confide in. She wanted, indeed, needed badly, a situation aslady's maid or second maid. She had tried and tried for a position;unfortunately her recommendations were mostly foreign--from Milan,Moscow, Paris. People either scrutinized them suspiciously, or _monDieu_! couldn't read them. It was hard on her; she had had such a time!She, a Viennese, with all her experience in France, Italy, Russia,found herself at her wits' end in this golden America. Wasn't it odd,_tres drole?_ She had laughed and laughed when she hadn't cried aboutit.
She had even tried singing in a little music-hall, a horribly commonplace, but her voice had failed her. Perhaps there was a vacancy at MissVan--what was her name? There _was_ a place vacant; the maid with thesaucy nose, Mr. Heatherbloom indifferently vouchsafed, had just left tomarry out of service.
"How fortunate!" the fair questioner cried; then sighed. Miss VanRolsen, being a maiden lady, would probably be most particular aboutrecommendations; that they should be of the home-made, intelligiblebrand, from people you could call up by telephone and interrogate. Hadshe been very particular in his case? Mr. Heatherbloom said "no"--notjoyfully, and explained. Though she drew words from him, he talked tothe sky-line. She listened; seemed thinking deeply.
"You are not pleased to be there?" Keenly.
"I?--Oh, of course!" Quickly.
She did not appear to note his changed manner. "This MissVan Rolsen,--isn't she the one whose niece--Miss ElizabethDalrymple--recently refused the hand and heart of a Russian prince?" shesaid musingly.
"Refused?" he cried suddenly. "You mean--" He stopped; the words hadbeen surprised from him.
"Accepted?" She looked at him closer. "Of course; I remember now seeingit in the paper; I was thinking of some one else. One of the otherlords, dukes, or noblemen the town is so full of just now."
He got up rather suddenly, bowed and went. With narrowing eyes shewatched him walk away, but when he had gone all melancholy disappearedfrom her face; she stretched herself and laughed. "_Voila!_ SoniaTurgeinov, comedienne!"
Mr. Heatherbloom did not repair to the point of elevation the next day,nor the day after; but she met him the third day near the Seventy-secondStreet entrance. More than that, she insinuated herself at his side; atfirst rather to his discomfort. Later he forgot the constraint herpresence occasioned him, when something she said caused him to look uponher with new favor. Beauty had momentarily escaped his vigilance andenjoyed a mad romp after a squirrel before she was captured.
What, his companion laughingly suggested, would have happened if Beautyhad really escaped, and he, Mr. Heatherbloom, had been forced to returnto the house without her? What? Mr. Heatherbloom started. He might losehis position, _n'est-cepas?_ He did not answer.
The idea was born; why _not_ lose Beauty? No, better still, Naughty; theprime favorite, Naughty. He looked into Naughty's eyes, and they seemedfull of liquid reproach. Naughty had been his friend--supposititiously,and to abandon him now to the world, a cold place devoid of French lambchops? A hard place for homeless dogs and men, alike! About to waive thetemptation, Mr. Heatherbloom paused; the idea was capable ofmodification or expansion. Most ideas are.
But he shortly afterward dismissed the entire matter from his mind; itwould, at best, be but a compromise, an evasion of the pact he had madewith himself. It was not to be thought of. At this moment his companionswayed and Mr. Heatherbloom had just time to put out his arm; thenhelped her to a bench.
She partly recovered; it was nothing, she remarked bravely. One getssometimes a little faint when--it was the old, old story of privationand want that now fell with seeming reluctance from her lips. Mr.Heatherbloom had become all attention. More than that he seemed greatlydistressed. A woman actually in need, starving--no use mincingwords!--in Central Park, the playground of the most opulent metropolisof the world. It was monstrous; he tendered her his purse, with severalweeks' pay in it. Her reply had a spirited ring; he felt abashed andreturned the money to his pocket. She sat back with eyes half-closed; hesaw now that her face looked drawn and paler than usual.
He, thought and thought; had he not himself found out how difficult itwas to get a position, to procure employment without friends andhelpers? He, a man, had walked in search of it, day after day and feltthe griping pangs of hunger; had wished for night, and, later, wishedfor the morn, only to find both equally barren.
Suddenly he spoke--slowly, like a man stating a proposition he hasargued carefully in his own mind. She listened, approved, while hopealready transfigured her face. She would have thanked him profusely buthe did not remain to hear her. In fact, he seemed hardly to see her now;his features had become once more reserved and introspective.
He reappeared at the Van Rolsen house that day without Naughty. Miss VanRolsen, when she heard the news, burst into tears; then became furious.She was sure he had s
old Naughty, winner of three blue ribbons, and "outof the contest" no end of times because superior to all competition!
A broken leash! Fiddlesticks! She penned advertisements wildly andsummoned her niece. That young lady responded to protestations andquestions with a slightly indifferent expression on her proud languidfeatures. What did she think of it? She didn't really know; her mannersaid she really didn't care.
Mr. Heatherbloom, standing with the light of the window fallingpensively upon him, she didn't seem to see at all; he had once morebecome a nullity. He rather preferred that role, however; perhaps hefelt it was easier to impersonate annihilation, in the inception, thanto have it, or a wish for it, thrust later too strongly upon him.
"I adhere to my opinion that he sold Naughty. I should never haveemployed this man," asserted Miss Van Rolsen, fastening her fiery eyeson Mr. Heatherbloom. "Why don't you speak, my dear, and give me youropinion?" To her niece.
"I haven't any, Aunt."
"You are discerning; you have judgment." Miss Van Rolsen spoke almosthysterically. "Remember he"--pointing a finger--"came without ourknowing anything about him."
Miss Dalrymple did not stir; a bunch of bizarre-looking orchids on hergown moved to her even rhythmical breathing. "What was he? Who was he?Maybe, nothing more than--" She paused for want of breath, not of words,to characterize her opinion of Mr. Heatherbloom.
He readjusted his posture. It was very bright outdoors; people went bybriskly, full of life and importance; children whirled along on rollerskates.
"When I asked your opinion, my dear, as to the wisdom of having employedthis person in the first place, under the circumstances, why did youkeep silent?" Was Miss Van Rolsen still talking, or rambling on to theimpervious beautiful girl? "You should have called me foolish,eccentric; yes, that's what I was, to have taken him in as I did."
Miss Dalrymple raised her brows and moved to a piano to adjust theflowers in a vase; she smiled at them with soft enigmatic lips.
"If I may venture an opinion, Madam," observed Mr. Heatherbloom in afar-away voice, "I should say Naughty will surely return, or bereturned."
"You venture an opinion!" said Miss Van Rolsen. "You!"
Miss Dalrymple breathed the fragrance of the flowers; she apparentlyliked it.
"You are discharged!" said Miss Van Rolsen violently to Mr.Heatherbloom. "I give you the two-weeks' notice agreed upon."
"I'll waive the notice," suggested the young man at the window quickly.
"You'll do nothing of the sort." Sharply. "It'll take me that time tofind another incompetent keeper for them. And, meanwhile, you may besure," grimly, "you will be very well watched."
"Under the circumstances, I should prefer--since you _have_ dischargedme--to leave at once."
"Your preferences are a matter of utter indifference. You were employedwith a definite understanding in this regard."
Mr. Heatherbloom gazed rather wildly out of the window; two weeks.--thatmuch longer! He was about to say he would not be well watched; he wouldtake himself off--that she couldn't keep him; but paused. A contract wasa contract, though orally made; she could hold him yet a little. But whydid she wish to? He had not calculated upon this; he tried to think butcould not. He looked from the elder to the younger woman. The latter didnot look at him.
Miss Dalrymple had seated herself at the piano; her fingers--light asspirit touches--now swept the keys; a Debussey fantasy, almost aspianissimo as one could play it, vibrated around them. Outside the whir!whir! of the skates went on. A little girl tumbled. Mr. Heatherbloomregarded her; ribbons awry; fat legs in the air. The music continued.
"You may go," said a severe voice.
He aroused himself to belated action, but at the door he looked back."I'm sure it will be all right," he repeated to Miss Van Rolsen. "On myword"--more impetuously.
At the piano some one laughed, and Mr. Heatherbloom went.
"Why on earth, Aunt, did you want to keep him two weeks longer?" heheard the girl's now passionate tones ask as he walked away.
"For a number of reasons, my dear," came the response. "One, because hewanted to leave me in the lurch. Another--it will be easier to keep aneye on him until Naughty is returned, or"--her voice had the vindictivering of a Roman matron's--"this person's culpability is proven. Naughtyis a valuable dog and--"
Mr. Heatherbloom's footsteps hastened; he had caught quite enough, butas he disappeared to the rear, the dream chords on the piano, nowlouder, continued to follow him.