CHAPTER XVI. JUNE MOONLIGHT, AND A NEW BOARDINGHOUSE
There was a week in which to scurry about for a new home. The daysscampered by, tripping over one another in their haste. My sleepinghours were haunted by nightmares of landladies and impossibleboarding-house bedrooms. Columns of "To Let, Furnished or Unfurnished"ads filed, advanced, and retreated before my dizzy eyes. My timeafter office hours was spent in climbing dim stairways, interviewingunenthusiastic females in kimonos, and peering into ugly bedroomspapered with sprawly and impossible patterns and filled with the odorsof dead-and-gone dinners. I found one room less impossible than therest, only to be told that the preference was to be given to a man whohad "looked" the day before.
"I d'ruther take gents only," explained the ample person who carried thekeys to the mansion. "Gents goes early in the morning and comes in lateat night, and that's all you ever see of 'em, half the time. I've triedladies, an' they get me wild, always yellin' for hot water to wash theirhair, or pastin' handkerchiefs up on the mirr'r or wantin' to butt intothe kitchen to press this or that. I'll let you know if the gent don'ttake it, but I got an idea he will."
He did. At any rate, no voice summoned me to that haven for gents only.There were other landladies--landladies fat and German; landladies leanand Irish; landladies loquacious (regardless of nationality); landladiesreserved; landladies husbandless, wedded, widowed, divorced, andwilling; landladies slatternly; landladies prim; and all hinting of pastestates wherein there had been much grandeur.
At last, when despair gripped me, and I had horrid visions of my trunk,hat-box and typewriter reposing on the sidewalk while I, homeless, satperched in the midst of them, I chanced upon a room which commanded aglorious view of the lake. True, it was too expensive for my slim purse;true, the owner of it was sour of feature; true, the room itself wascavernous and unfriendly and cold-looking, but the view of the great,blue lake triumphed over all these, although a cautious inner voicewarned me that that lake view would cover a multitude of sins. Iremembered, later, how she of the sour visage had dilated upon thesubject of the sunrise over the water. I told her at the time that whileI was passionately fond of sunrises myself, still I should like themjust as well did they not occur so early in the morning. Whereupon sheof the vinegar countenance had sniffed. I loathe landladies who sniff.
My trunk and trusty typewriter were sent on to my new home at noon,unchaperoned, for I had no time to spare at that hour of the day. LaterI followed them, laden with umbrella, boxes, brown-paper parcels, andother unfashionable moving-day paraphernalia. I bumped and banged my wayup the two flights of stairs that led to my lake view and my bed, andmy heart went down as my feet went up. By the time the cavernousbedroom was gained I felt decidedly quivery-mouthed, so that I dumped mybelongings on the floor in a heap and went to the window to gaze on thelake until my spirits should rise. But it was a gray day, and the lakelooked large, and wet and unsociable. You couldn't get chummy with it.I turned to my great barn of a room. You couldn't get chummy with that,either. I began to unpack, with furious energy. In vain I turned everygas jet blazing high. They only cast dim shadows in the murky vastnessof that awful chamber. A whole Fourth of July fireworks display, Romancandles, sky-rockets, pin-wheels, set pieces and all, could not havemade that room take on a festive air.
As I unpacked I thought of my cosy room at Knapfs', and as I thoughtI took my head out of my trunk and sank down on the floor with a satinblouse in one hand, and a walking boot in the other, and wanted tobellow with loneliness. There came to me dear visions of the friendlyold yellow brocade chair, and the lamplight, and the fireplace, andFrau Nirlanger, and the Pfannkuchen. I thought of the aborigines. In myhomesick mind their bumpy faces became things of transcendent beauty. Icould have put my head on their combined shoulders and wept down theirblue satin neckties. In my memory of Frau Knapf it seemed to me that Icould discern a dim, misty halo hovering above her tightly wadded hair.My soul went out to her as I recalled the shining cheek-bones, and theapron, and the chickens stewed in butter. I would have given a year outof my life to have heard that good-natured, "Nabben'." One aboriginehad been wont to emphasize his after-dinner arguments with a toothpickbrandished fiercely between thumb and finger. The brandisher hadalways annoyed me. Now I thought of him with tenderness in my heart andreproached myself for my fastidiousness. I should have wept if I hadnot had a walking boot in one hand, and a satin blouse in the other. Awalking boot is but a cold comfort. And my thriftiness denied my tearsthe soiling of the blouse. So I sat up on my knees and finished theunpacking.
Just before dinner time I donned a becoming gown to chirk up my courage,groped my way down the long, dim stairs, and telephoned to Von Gerhard.It seemed to me that just to hear his voice would instill in me newcourage and hope. I gave the number, and waited.
"Dr. von Gerhard?" repeated a woman's voice at the other end of thewire. "He is very busy. Will you leave your name?"
"No," I snapped. "I'll hold the wire. Tell him that Mrs. Orme is waitingto speak to him."
"I'll see." The voice was grudging.
Another wait; then--"Dawn!" came his voice in glad surprise.
"Hello!" I cried, hysterically. "Hello! Oh, talk! Say something nice,for pity's sake! I'm sorry that I've taken you away from whatever youwere doing, but I couldn't help it. Just talk please! I'm dying ofloneliness."
"Child, are you ill?" Von Gerhard's voice was so satisfyinglysolicitous. "Is anything wrong? Your voice is trembling. I can hear itquite plainly. What has happened? Has Norah written--"
"Norah? No. There was nothing in her letter to upset me. It is only thestrangeness of this place. I shall be all right in a day or so."
"The new home--it is satisfactory? You have found what you wanted? Yourroom is comfortable?"
"It's--it's a large room," I faltered. "And there's a--a large view ofthe lake, too."
There was a smothered sound at the other end of the wire. Then--"Iwant you to meet me down-town at seven o'clock. We will have dinnertogether," Von Gerhard said, "I cannot have you moping up there allalone all evening."
"I can't come."
"Why?"
"Because I want to so very much. And anyway, I'm much more cheerful now.I am going in to dinner. And after dinner I shall get acquainted withmy room. There are six corners and all the space under the bed that Ihaven't explored yet."
"Dawn!"
"Yes?"
"If you were free to-night, would you marry me? If you knew that thenext month would find you mistress of yourself would you--"
"Ernst!"
"Yes?"
"If the gates of Heaven were opened wide to you, and they had 'Welcome!'done in diamonds over the door, and all the loveliest angel ladiesgrouped about the doorway to receive you, and just beyond you couldsee awaiting you all that was beautiful, and most exquisite, and mostdesirable, would you enter?"
And then I hung up the receiver and went in to dinner. I went in todinner, but not to dine. Oh, shades of those who have suffered inboarding-houses--that dining room! It must have been patterned afterthe dining room at Dotheboys' hall. It was bare, and cheerless, andfearfully undressed looking. The diners were seated at two long,unsociable, boarding-housey tables that ran the length of the room, andall the women folks came down to dine with white wool shawls wrappedsnugly about their susceptible black silk shoulders. The general effectwas that of an Old People's Home. I found seat after seat at table wasfilled, and myself the youngest thing present. I felt so criminallyyoung that I wondered they did not strap me in a high chair and rambread and milk down my throat. Now and then the door would open toadmit another snuffly, ancient, and be-shawled member of the company. Ilearned that Mrs. Schwartz, on my right, did not care mooch for shteakfor breakfast, aber a leedle l'mb ch'p she likes. Also that the elderlyparty on my left and the elderly party on my right resented beingseparated by my person. Conversation between E. P. on right, and E. P.on left scintillated across my soup, thus:
"How you feel this evening Mis' Maurer, h'm?"
"Don't ask me."
"No wonder you got rheumatism. My room was like a ice-house all day.Yours too?"
"I don't complain any more. Much good it does. Barley soup again? In myown home I never ate it, and here I pay my good money and get four timea week barley soup. Are those fresh cucumbers? M-m-m-m. They haven'tstood long enough. Look at Mis' Miller. She feels good this evening. Sheshould feel good. Twenty-five cents she won at bridge. I never seen howthat woman is got luck."
I choked, gasped, and fled.
Back in my own mausoleum once more I put things in order, dragged mytypewriter stand into the least murky corner under the bravest gas jetand rescued my tottering reason by turning out a long letter to Norah.That finished, my spirits rose. I dived into the bottom of my trunk forthe loose sheets of the book-in-the-making, glanced over the last threeor four, discovered that they did not sound so maudlin as I had feared,and straightway forgot my gloomy surroundings in the fascination ofweaving the tale.
In the midst of my fine frenzy there came a knock at the door. In thehall stood the anemic little serving maid who had attended me at dinner.She was almost eclipsed by a huge green pasteboard box.
"You're Mis' Orme, ain't you? This here's for you."
The little white-cheeked maid hovered at the threshold while I liftedthe box cover and revealed the perfection of the American beauty budsthat lay there, all dewy and fragrant. The eyes of the little maid werewide with wonder as she gazed, and because I had known flower-hunger Iseparated two stately blossoms from the glowing cluster and held themout to her.
"For me!" she gasped, and brought her lips down to them, gently.Then--"There's a high green jar downstairs you can have to stick yourflowers in. You ain't got nothin' big enough in here, except your waterpitcher. An' putting these grand flowers in a water pitcher--why, it'dbe like wearing a silk dress over a flannel petticoat, wouldn't it?"
When the anemic little boarding-house slavey with the beauty-loving soulhad fetched the green jar, I placed the shining stems in it with gentlefingers. At the bottom of the box I found a card that read: "For it isimpossible to live in a room with red roses and still be traurig."
How well he knew! And how truly impossible to be sad when red roses areglowing for one, and filling the air with their fragrance!
The interruption was fatal to book-writing. My thoughts were a chaosof red roses, and anemic little maids with glowing eyes, and thoughtfulyoung doctors with a marvelous understanding of feminine moods. SoI turned out all the lights, undressed by moonlight, and, throwing akimono about me, carried my jar of roses to the window and sat downbeside them so that their exquisite scent caressed me.
The moonlight had put a spell of white magic upon the lake. It was alight-flooded world that lay below my window. Summer, finger on lip,had stolen in upon the heels of spring. Dim, shadowy figures dotted thebenches of the park across the way. Just beyond lay the silver lake, adazzling bar of moonlight on its breast. Motors rushed along the roadwaywith a roar and a whir and were gone, leaving a trail of laughter behindthem. From the open window of the room below came the slip-slap ofcards on the polished table surface, and the low buzz of occasionalconversation as the players held postmortems. Under the street lightthe popcorn vender's cart made a blot on the mystic beauty of the scenebelow. But the perfume of my red roses came to me, and their velvetcaressed my check, and beyond the noise and lights of the street laythat glorious lake with the bar of moonlight on its soft breast. I gazedand forgave the sour-faced landlady her dining room; forgave the elderlyparties their shawls and barley soup; forgot for a moment my wearythoughts of Peter Orme; forgot everything except that it was June, andmoonlight and good to be alive.
All the changes and events of that strange, eventful year came crowdingto my mind as I crouched there at the window. Four new friends, triedand true! I conned them over joyously in my heart. What a strangecontrast they made! Blackie, of the elastic morals, and the still moreelastic heart; Frau Nirlanger, of the smiling lips and the lilting voiceand the tragic eyes--she who had stooped from a great height to pluckthe flower of love blooming below, only to find a worthless weedsullying her hand; Alma Pflugel, with the unquenchable light ofgratefulness in her honest face; Von Gerhard, ready to act as bufferbetween myself and the world, tender as a woman, gravely thoughtful,with the light of devotion glowing in his steady eyes.
"Here's richness," said I, like the fat boy in Pickwick Papers. And Ithanked God for the new energy which had sent me to this lovely city bythe lake. I thanked Him that I had not been content to remain a burdento Max and Norah, growing sour and crabbed with the years. Those yearsof work and buffeting had made of me a broader, finer, truer typeof womanhood--had caused me to forget my own little tragedy incontemplating the great human comedy. And so I made a little prayerthere in the moon-flooded room.
"O dear Lord," I prayed, and I did not mean that it should soundirreverent. "O dear Lord, don't bother about my ambitions! Just let meremain strong and well enough to do the work that is my portion from dayto day. Keep me faithful to my standards of right and wrong. Letthis new and wonderful love which has come into my life be a staff ofstrength and comfort instead of a burden of weariness. Let me notgrow careless and slangy as the years go by. Let me keep my hair andcomplexion and teeth, and deliver me from wearing soiled blouses anddoing my hair in a knob. Amen."
I felt quite cheerful after that--so cheerful that the strange bumps inthe new bed did not bother me as unfamiliar beds usually did. The rosesI put to sleep in their jar of green, keeping one to hold against mycheek as I slipped into dreamland. I thought drowsily, just before sleepclaimed me:
"To-morrow, after office hours, I'll tuck up my skirt, and wrap my headin a towel and have a housecleaning bee. I'll move the bed where thewash-stand is now, and I'll make the chiffonnier swap places with thecouch. One feels on friendlier terms with furniture that one has shovedabout a little. How brilliant the moonlight is! The room is flooded withit. Those roses--sweet!--sweet!--"
When I awoke it was morning. During the days that followed I looked backgratefully upon that night, with its moonlight, and its roses, and itsgreat peace.