CHAPTER XII
During her week's absence from town Jacqueline's mail had accumulated; anumber of business matters had come into the office, the disposal ofwhich now awaited her decision--requests from wealthy connoisseurs forexpert opinion, offers to dispose of collections entire or in part,invitations to dealers' secret conferences, urgent demands forappraisers, questions concerning origin or authenticity, commissions tobuy, sell, advertise, or send searchers throughout the markets at homeor abroad for anything from a tiny shrine of Limoges enamel to acomplete suit of equestrian armour to fill a gap in a series belongingto some rich man's museum.
On the evening of her arrival at the office, she was beset by her clerksand salesmen, bringing to her hundreds of petty routine detailsrequiring her personal examination. Also, it appeared that one of herclients had been outrageously swindled by a precious pair offly-by-nights; and the matter required immediate investigation. So shewas obliged to telephone to Mrs. Hammerton that she could not dine withher at the Ritz, and to Desboro that she could not see him for a day ortwo. In Desboro's case, a postscript added: "Except for a minute,dearest, whenever you come."
She did not even take the time to dine that evening, but settled down ather office desk as soon as the retail shop below was closed; and, withthe tea urn and a rack of toast at her elbow, plunged straight into thedelightfully interesting chaos confronting her.
As far as the shop was concerned, the New Year, as usual, had brought tothat part of the business a lull in activity. It always happened soafter New Years; and the stagnation steadily increased as springapproached, until by summer time the retail business was practicallydead.
But a quiet market did not mean that there was nothing for her to do.Warehouse sales must be watched, auctions, public and private, in townand country, must be attended by one or more of her representatives;private clients inclined to sell always required tactful handling andcareful consideration; her confidential agents must always be alert.
Also, always her people were continually searching for various objectsardently desired by all species of acquisitive clients; she must keep inconstant touch with everything that was happening in her businessabroad; she must keep abreast of her times at home, which required muchcleverness, intuition, and current reading, and much study in the Museumand among private collections to which she had access. She was a very,very busy girl, almost too busy at moments to remember that she hadfallen in love.
That night she worked alone in her office until long after midnight; andall the next day until noon she was busy listening to or instructingsalesmen, clerks, dealers, experts, auctioneers, and clients. Also, theswindle and the swindlers were worrying her extremely.
Luncheon had been served on a tray beside her desk, and she was stillabsent-mindedly going over the carbon files of business letters, whichshe had dictated and dispatched that morning, when Desboro's card wasbrought to her. She sent word that she would receive him.
"Will you lunch with me, Jim?" she asked demurely, when he had appearedand shaken hands vigorously. "I've a fruit salad and some perfectlydelicious sherbet! Please sit on the desk top and help me consume thebanquet."
"Do you call that a banquet, darling?" he demanded. "Come out to theRitz with me this instant----"
"Dearest! I can't! Oh, you don't know what an exciting and interestingmess my business affairs are in! A girl always has to pay for herpleasure. But in this case it's a pleasure to pay. Bring up that chairand share my luncheon like a good fellow, so we can chat together for afew minutes. It's all the time I can give you to-day, dearest."
He pulled up a chair and seated himself, experiencing somewhat mixedemotions in the presence of such bewildering business capability.
"You make me feel embarrassed and ashamed," he said. "Rotten loafer thatI am! And you so energetic and industrious--you darling thing!"
"But, dear, your farmer can't plow frozen ground, you know; all your mencan do just now is to mend fences and dump fertiliser and lime andgypsum over everything. And I believe they were doing that when I left."
"If," he said, "I were a real instead of a phony farmer, I'd readcatalogues about wire fences; I'd find plenty to do if I were not awretched sham. It's only, I hope, because you're in town that I can'tdrive myself back where I belong. I ought to be sitting in a wood-shed,in overalls, whittling sticks and yelling bucolic wisdom at EzraVail---- Oh, you needn't laugh, darling, but that's where I ought to be,and what I ought to be doing if I'm ever going to support a wife!"
"Jim! You're _not_ going to support a wife! You absurd boy!"
"What!" he demanded, losing countenance.
"Did you think you were obliged to support me? How ridiculous! I'd beperfectly miserable----"
"Jacqueline! What on earth do you mean? We are going to live on myincome."
"Indeed we are not! What use would I be to you if I brought you nothingexcept an idle, useless, lazy girl to support! It's unthinkable!"
"Do you expect to _remain_ in business?" he asked, incredulously.
"Certainly I expect it!"
"But--darling----"
"Jim! I _love_ my business. It was father's business; it represents mychildhood, my girlhood, my maturity. Every detail of it is inextricablylinked with memories of him--the dearest memories, the tenderestassociations of my life! Do you wish me to give them up?"
"How can you be my wife, Jacqueline, and still remain a business woman?"
"Dear, I am certainly going to marry you. Permit me to arrange the rest.It will not interfere with my being your devoted and happy wife. Itwouldn't ever interfere with--with my being a--a perfectly goodmother--if that's what you fear. If it did, do you suppose I'd hesitateto choose?"
"No," he said, adoring her.
"Indeed, I wouldn't! But remaining in business will give me what everygirl should have as a right--an object in life apart from her love forher husband--and children--apart from her proper domestic duties. It isher right to engage in the business of life; it makes the contractbetween you and me fairer. I love you more than anything in the world,but I simply couldn't keep my self-respect and depend on you foreverything I have."
"But, my darling, everything I have is already yours."
"Yes, I know. We can pretend it is. I know I _could_ have it--just asyou could have this rather complicated business of mine--if you wantit."
"Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed. "Imagine the fury of a connoisseur who engagedme to identify his priceless penates!"
He was laughing, too, now. They had finished their fruit salad andsherbet; she lighted a cigarette for him, taking a dainty puff andhanding it to him with an adorable shudder.
"I _don't_ like it! I don't like any vices! How women can enjoy what menenjoy is a mystery to me. Smoke slowly, darling, because when thatcigarette is finished you must make a very graceful bow and say good-byeto me until to-morrow."
"This is simply devilish, Jacqueline! I never see you any more."
"Nonsense! You have plenty to do to amuse you--haven't you, dear?"
But the things that once occupied his leisure so casually and soagreeably no longer attracted him.
"I don't want to read seed catalogues," he protested. "Couldn't I be ofuse to you, Jacqueline? I'll do anything you say--take off my coat andsweep out your office, or go behind the counter in the shop and sellgilded gods----"
"Imagine the elegant Mr. Desboro selling antiquities to the dangerousmonomaniacs who haunt such shops as mine! Dear, they'd either drive youcrazy or have you arrested for fraud inside of ten minutes. No; you willmake a perfectly good husband, Jim, but you were never created todecorate an antique shop."
He tried to smile, but only flushed rather painfully. A sudden andwholly inexplicable sense of inferiority possessed him.
"You know," he said, "I'm not going to stand around idle while you run aprosperous business concern. And anyway, I can't see it, Jacqueline. Youand I are going to have a lot of social obligations to----"
"We are likely to have all kinds of obligatio
ns," she interruptedserenely, "and our lives are certain to be very full, and you and I aregoing to be equal to every opportunity, every demand, everyresponsibility--and still have leisure to love each other, and to be toeach other everything that either could desire."
"After all," he said, serious and unconvinced, "there are onlytwenty-four hours in a day for us to be together."
"Yes, darling, but there will be no wasted time in those twenty-fourhours. That is where we save a sufficient number of minutes to attend tothe business of life."
"Do you mean that you intend to come into this office every day?"
"For a while, yes. Less frequently when I have trained my people alittle longer. What do you suppose my father was doing all his life?What do you suppose I have been doing these last three years? Why, Jim,except that hitherto I have loved to fuss over details, this office andthis business could almost run itself for six months at a time. Someday, except for special clients here and there, Lionel Sissly will dowhat expert work I now am doing; and this desk will be his; and hispresent position will be filled by Mr. Mirk. That is how it is planned.And if you had given me two or three months, I might have been able togo on a bridal trip with you!"
"We _are_ going, aren't we?" he asked, appalled.
"If I've got to marry you offhand," she said seriously, "our weddingtrip will have to wait. Don't you know, dear, that it always costsheavily to do anything in a hurry? At this time of year, and under thepresent conditions of business, and considering my contracts andobligations, it would be utterly impossible for me to go away againuntil summer."
He sprang up irritated, yet feeling utterly helpless under her friendlybut level gaze. Already he began to realise the true significance of herposition and his own in the world; how utterly at a moral disadvantagehe stood before this young girl--moral, intellectual, spiritual--he wasbeginning to comprehend it all now.
A dull flush of anger made his face hot and altered his expressionto sullenness. Where was all this leading them, anyway--this reversalof roles, this self-dependent attitude of hers--this calmself-reliance--this freedom of decision?
Once he had supposed there was something in her to protect, to guide,advise, make allowance for--perhaps to persuade, possibly, even, toinstruct. Such has been the immemorial attitude of man; it had beeninstinctively, and more or less unconsciously, his.
And now, in spite of her youth, her soft pliability, her almost childishgrace and beauty, he was experiencing a half-dazed sensation as though,in full and confident career, he had come, slap! into collision with anoccult barrier. And the impact was confusing him and even beginning tohurt him.
He looked around him uneasily. Everything in the office, somehow, seemedto be in subtle league with her to irritate him--her desk, her loadedletter-files, her stacks of ledgers--all these accused and offended him.But most of all his own helpless inferiority made him angry andashamed--the inferiority of idleness confronted by industry; ofaimlessness face to face with purpose; of irresolution and degeneracyscrutinised by fearlessness, confidence, and happy and innocentaspiration. And the combination silenced him.
And every mute second that he stood there, he felt as though somethingimperceptible, intangible, was slipping away from him--perhaps his man'simmemorial right to lead, to decide, to direct the common destiny ofthis slim, sweet-lipped young girl and himself.
For it was she who was serenely deciding--who had already laid out thebusiness of life for herself without hesitation, without resort to him,to his man's wisdom, experience, prejudices, wishes, desires. Moreover,she was leaving him absolutely free to decide his own business in lifefor himself; and that made her position unassailable. For if she hadpresumed to advise him, to suggest, even hint at anything interferingwith his own personal liberty to decide for himself, he might have foundsome foothold, some niche, something to sustain him, to justify him, inassuming man's immemorial right to leadership.
"Dear," she said wistfully, "you look at me with such very troubledeyes. Is there anything I have said that you disapprove?"
"I had not expected you to remain in business," was all he found to say.
"If my remaining in business ever interferes with your happiness or withmy duty to you, I will give it up. You know that, don't you?"
He reddened again.
"It looks queer," he muttered, "--your being in business and I--playingfarmer--like one of those loafing husbands of celebrated actresses."
"Jim!" she exclaimed, scarlet to the ears. "What a horrid simile!"
"It's myself I'm cursing out," he said, almost angrily. "I can't cutsuch a figure. Don't you understand, Jacqueline? I haven't anything tooccupy me! Do you expect me to hang around somewhere while you work? Itell you, I've got to find something to do as soon as we're married--orI couldn't look you in the face."
"That is for you to decide. Isn't it?" she asked sweetly.
"Yes, but on what am I to decide?"
"Whatever you decide, don't do it in a hurry, dear," she said, smiling.
The sullen sense of resentment returned, reddening his face again:
"I wouldn't have to hurry if you'd give up this business and live onour income and be free to travel and knock about with me----"
"Can't you understand that I _will_ be free to be with you--free inmind, in conscience, in body, to travel with you, be with you, be to youwhatever you desire--but only if I keep my self-respect! And I can'tkeep that if I neglect the business of life, which, in my case, liespartly here in this office."
She rose and laid one slim, pretty hand on his shoulder. She rarelypermitted herself to touch him voluntarily.
"Don't you wish me to be happy?" she asked gently.
"It's all I wish in the world, Jacqueline."
"But I couldn't be happy and remain idle; remain dependent on you foranything--except love. Life to the full--every moment filled--that iswhat living means to me. And only one single thing never can fill one'slife--not intellectual research alone; not spiritual remoteness; nor yetthe pursuit of pleasure; nor the swift and endless hunt for happiness;nor even love, dearest among men! Only the business of life can quitefill life to the brimming for me; and that business is made up ofeverything worthy--of the pleasures of effort, duty, aspiration, andnoble repose, but never of the pleasures of idleness. Jim, have I boredyou with a sermon? Forgive me; I am preaching only to instruct myself."
He took her hand from his shoulder and stood holding it and looking ather with a strange expression. So dazed, yet so terribly intent heseemed at moments that she laid her other hand over his, pressing it insmiling anxiety.
"What is it, dearest?" she murmured. "Don't you approve of me as muchas you thought you did? Am I disappointing you already?"
"Good God!" he muttered to himself. "If there is a heaven, and your sortinhabit it, hell was reformed long ago."
"What are you muttering all to yourself, Jim?" she insisted. "Whattroubles you?"
"I'll tell you. You've picked the wrong man. I'm absolutely unfit foryou. I know about all those decent things you believe in--all the thingsyou _are_! But I don't know about them from personal experience; I neverdid anything decent because it was my duty to do it--except by accident.I never took a spiritual interest in anything or anybody, includingmyself! I never made a worthy effort; I never earned one second's worthof noble repose. And now--if there's anything in me to begin on--it'sprobably my duty to release you until I have made something of myself,before I come whining around asking you to marry a man not fit tomarry----"
"My darling!" she protested, half laughing, half in tears, and closinghis angry lips with both her hands. "I want _you_, not a saint or a holyman, or an archangel fresh from paradise! I want you as you _are_--asyou have been--as you are going to be dear! Did any girl who ever livedfind pleasure in perfection? Even in art it is undesirable. That's thebeauty of aspiration; the pleasures of effort never pall. I don't knowwhether I'm laughing or crying, Jim! You look so solemn and miserable,and--and funny! But if you try to look dignified now,
I'll certainlylaugh! You dear, blessed, overgrown boy--just as bad as you possibly canbe! Just as funny and unreasonable and perverse as are all boys! ButJacqueline loves you dearly--oh, dearly--and she trusts you with herheart and her happiness and with every beauty yet undreamed andunrevealed that a girl could learn to desire on earth! Are youcontented? Oh, Jim! Jim! If you knew how I adore you! You must go, dear.It will mean a long night's work for me if you don't. But it's so hardto let you go--when I--love you so! When I love you so! Good-bye. Yes,to-morrow. Don't call at noon; Mrs. Hammerton is coming for afive-minute chat. And I do want you to myself for the few moments we mayhave together. Come about five and we can have tea here beside my desk."
* * * * *
He came next day at five. The day after that he arrived at the samehour, bringing with him her ring; and, as he slipped it over her finger,for the first time her self-control slipped, too, and she bent swiftlyand kissed the jewel that he was holding.
Then, flushed and abashed, she shrank away, an exquisite picture ofconfusion, and stood turning and turning the ring around, her headobstinately lowered, absolutely unresponsive again to his arm around herand his cheek resting close against hers.
"What a beauty of a ring, Jim!" she managed to say at last. "No otherengagement ring ever existed half as lovely and splendid as my betrothalring. I am sorry for all the empresses and queens and princesses who cannever hope to possess a ring to equal the ring of Jacqueline Nevers,dealer in antiquities."
"Nor can they hope to possess such a hand to adorn it," he said, "--themost beautiful, the purest, whitest, softest, most innocent hand in theworld! The magic hand of Jacqueline!"
"Do you like it?" she asked, shyly conscious of its beauty.
"It is matchless, darling. Let empresses shriek with envy."
"I'm listening very intently, but I don't hear them. Jim. Also, I'veseen a shop-girl with far lovelier hands. But please go on thinking soand hearing crowned heads shriek. I rather like your imagination."
He laughed from sheer happiness:
"I've got something to whisper to you. Shall I?"
"What?"
"Shall I whisper it?"
She inclined her small head daintily, then:
"Oh!" she exclaimed, startled and blushing to the tips of her ears.
"Will you be ready?"
"I--yes. Yes--I'll be ready----"
"Does it make you happy?"
"I can't realise--I didn't know it was to be so soon--so immediate----"
"We'll go to Silverwood. We can catch the evening express----"
"Dearest!"
"You can go away with me for _one_ week, can't you?"
"I can't go now!" she faltered.
"For how long can you go, Jacqueline?"
"I--I've got to be back on Tuesday morning."
"Tuesday!"
"Isn't it dreadful, Jim. But I can't avoid it if we are to be married onMonday next. I must deal honourably by my clients who trust me. Iwarned you that our wedding trip would have to be postponed if youmarried me this way--didn't I, dear?"
"Yes."
She stood looking at him timidly, almost fearfully, as he took two orthree quick, nervous steps across the floor, turned and came back toher.
"All right," he said. "Our wedding trip will have to wait, then; but ourwedding won't. We'll be married Monday, go to Silverwood, and come backTuesday--if it's a matter of honour. I never again mean to interferewith your life's business, Jacqueline. You know what is best; you arefree and entitled to the right of decision."
"Yes. But because I _must_ decide about things that concern myselfalone, you don't think I adore you any the less, do you, Jim?"
"Nor do I love you the less, Jacqueline, because I can decide nothingfor you, do nothing for you."
"Jim! You _can_ decide everything for me--do everything! And you _have_done everything for me--by giving me my freedom to decide for myself!"
"_I_ gave it to you, Jacqueline?"
"Did you think I would have taken it if you had refused it?"
"But you said your happiness depended on it."
"Which is why you gave it to me, isn't it?" she asked seriously.
He laughed. "You wonderful girl, to make me believe that any generosityof mine is responsible for your freedom!"
"But it is! Otherwise, I would have obeyed you and been disgraced in myown estimation."
"Do you mean that mine is to be the final decision always?"
"Why, of course, Jim."
He laughed again. "Empty authority, dear--a shadowy symbol oftraditional but obsolete prerogative."
"You are wrong. Your decision is final. But--as I know it will always befor my happiness, I can always appeal from your prejudice to yourintelligence," she added naively. And for a moment was surprised at hisunrestrained laughter.
"What does it matter?" she admitted, laughing, too. "Between you and methe right thing always will be done sooner or later."
His laughter died out; he said soberly: "Always, God willing. It may bea little hard for me to learn--as it's hard, now, for example, to saygood-bye."
"Jim!"
"You know I must, darling."
"But I don't mind sitting up a few minutes later to-night----"
"I know you don't. But here's where I exercise my harmlessly arbitraryauthority for your happiness and for the sake of your good digestion."
"What a brute you are!"
"I know it. Back to your desk, darling! And go to bed early."
"I wanted you to stay----"
"Ha! So you begin to feel the tyranny of man! I'm going! I've got a job,too, if you want to know."
"What!"
"Certainly! How long did you suppose I could stand it to see you atthat desk and then go and sit in a silly club?"
"What do you mean, darling?" she asked, radiant.
"I mean that Jack Cairns, who is a broker, has offered me a job at asmall but perfectly proper salary, with the usual commission on allbusiness I bring in to the office. And I've taken it!"
"But, dear----"
"Oh, Vail can run my farm without any advice from me. I'm going to givehim more authority and hold him responsible. If the place can pay foritself and let us keep the armour and jades, that's all I ask of it. ButI am asking more of myself--since I have begun to really know you. AndI'm going to work for our bread and butter, and earn enough to supportus both and lay something aside. You know we've got to think of that,because----" He looked very serious, hesitated, bent and whisperedsomething that sent the bright colour flying in her cheeks; then hecaught her hand and kissed the ring-finger.
"Good-bye," she murmured, clinging for an instant to his hand.
The next moment he was gone; and she stood alone for a while by herdesk, his ring resting against her lips, her eyes closed.
* * * * *
Sunday she spent with him. They went together to St. John's Cathedral inthe morning--the first time he had been inside a church in years. And hewas in considerable awe of the place and of her until they finallyemerged into the sunshine of Morningside Park.
Under a magnificent and cloudless sky, they walked together, silent orloquacious by turns, bold and shy, confident and timid. And she was alittle surprised to find that, in the imminence of marriage, hertrepidation was composure itself compared to the anxiety which seemed toassail him. All he had thought of was the license and the clergyman; andthey had attended to those matters together. But she had wished him tohave Jack Cairns present, and had told him that she desired to ask somefriend of her girlhood to be her bridesmaid.
"Have you done so?" he inquired, as they descended the heights ofMorningside, the beautiful weather tempting them to a long homewardstroll through Central Park.
"Yes, Jim, I must tell you about her. She, like myself, is not a girlthat men of your sort might expect to meet----"
"The loss is ours, Jacqueline."
"That is very sweet of you. Only I had better
tell you about CynthiaLessler----"
"Who?" he asked, astonished.
"Cynthia Lessler, my girlhood friend."
"She is an actress, isn't she?"
"Yes. Her home life was very unhappy. But I think she has much talent,too."
"She has."
"I am glad you think so. Anyway, she is my oldest friend, and I haveasked her to be my bridesmaid to-morrow."
He continued silent beside her so long that she said timidly:
"Do you mind, Jim?"
"I was only thinking--how it might look in the papers--and there areother girls you already know whose names would mean a lot----"
"Yes, I know. But I don't want to pretend to be what I am not, even inthe papers. I suppose I do need all the social corroboration I can have.I know what you mean, dear. But there were reasons. I thought it allover. Cynthia is an old friend, not very happy, not the fortunate andblessed girl that your love is making of me. But she is good and sweetand loyal to me, and I can't abandon old friends, especially one who isnot very fortunate--and I--I thought perhaps it might help her alittle--in various ways--to be my bridesmaid."
"That is like you," he said, reddening. "You never say or do anythingbut there lies in it some primary lesson in decency to me."
"You goose! Isn't it natural for a girl to wish for her oldest friend atsuch a time? That's really all there is to the matter. And I do hope youwill like Cynthia."
He nodded, preoccupied. After a few moments he said:
"Did you know that Jack Cairns had met her?"
"Yes."
"Oh!" His troubled eyes sought hers, then shifted.
"That was another reason I wish to ask her," she said in a low voice.
"What reason?"
"Because Mr. Cairns knew her only as a very young, very lonely, veryunhappy girl, inexperienced, friendless, poor, almost shelterless; andengaged in a profession upon which it is almost traditional for men toprey. And I wish him to know her again as a girl who is slowlyadvancing in an honest profession--as a modest, sweet, self-respectingwoman--and as my friend."
"And mine," he said.
"You--darling!" she whispered.