CHAPTER XIV
A PROPOSAL
On returning from her singing lesson in the middle of a bitter coldJanuary afternoon, Poppea had walked the short distance from ChickeringHall back to the Felton house on Madison Square, so far up in the cloudsthat she was quite unconscious that her feet touched the icy pavements.For not only had Tostelli commended her improved vocalization with trueItalian fervor expressed in elaborate French, but he had praised herfirst teacher, Stephen Latimer, saying: "He who has brought outMademoiselle's voice thus far without a scratch or strain or a falsityhas done so much that she may hope to be anything that she wills, evenan _artiste_ of the Grand Opera, after much study abroad. That she canalso act, I am ver' certain, for what she sings that she is for thetime, gay, _triste_, _pathetique_, simple _comme en enfant_, _maistoujours naturel_, _toujours ravissante_." Then he had asked her to takethe leading part in an operetta that was to be given by his pupilstoward the end of the season in one of the ample old houses on GramercyPark that boasted a perfectly equipped private theatre.
So buoyed up was she by his words that she had crossed the park, theexquisite articulation of its crystal-covered trees still furtherkeeping up the illusion of fairyland wherein she was for the momentliving, and reached the steps of the house, before she realized whereshe was, and that she was expected to make a round of calls with MissEmmy instead of going to sit by the fire and think it all out as shedesired. She had been in the company of others all day and had the need,possessed by all those of her temperament, to be alone to realizeherself.
"Are the ladies at home?" was her question to Caleb as he opened thedoor, knowing that the day's history would be forthcoming.
"Yes, Missy, and Mr. Esterbrook too; he doan seems to feel right peartto-day. He didn't go to the club for his luncheon, and he isn't going tothe painter man's what's doing his picture. Miss 'Liz'beth's going outlater, but Miss Emmy's 'cided not to budge herself, and's taking hercomfort in the sitting room, where I'm to bring de tea soon's you come."
"Good!" cried Poppea, running up to her room as swiftly as she had donemany years before when Winslow had caught her dancing. Only this time,instead of kneeling in front of the open window for breath, she threwoff her street things, loosened her hair that had been compressed by herhat, and slipping on a soft crimson wrapper that she and Satira Pottshad fashioned when she had been getting together what the latterinsisted upon calling her "trowsoo" for the city, went down to thesitting room, the door of which stood hospitably open.
The upstairs sitting room was one of the unsurpassed institutions ofthe day among those who had sufficiently ample houses to allow for it.Usually occupying the front room of the second floor, it served both asa watch-tower of the street and a comfortable place of retreat when "notat home," or "engaged," according to the moral veracity of the family,was the word at the door. While there is a certain responsibility aboutthe coherent furnishings of all other rooms, from the music room of barefloor and scant drapery to the library with its heavy rugs, drapedalcoves, and precise shelving--the sitting room may take tribute fromall others. A small upright piano, an open case of books, a tableserving both for writing and a comfortable litter of magazines, deepnestlike chairs and a lounge that invites impromptu sleep without theceremonious disrobing suggested by a bedroom, a joyful canary or two,and a shelf of blooming plants in the sunniest window complete thesetting.
The modern living room is undoubtedly grandchild of the sitting roomthat abdicated in its favor a quarter of a century ago, owing to anincreasing contraction in house room. For the living room in ordinaryhouses is more often a combination of library, drawing and dining room,than a separate bit of luxury; also it is usually on the first floor,and therefore below the range of safety for flowing hair, kimonos,slippers, and pajamas.
When Poppea entered the Feltons' sitting room and saw Miss Emmy in oneof the deep chairs, released from stays and elaborate hair-dress,actually sitting on her feet in curled-up comfort, while she petted Divathe great fox-gray Angora, so-called from the vocal quality of herpurr,--whose wonderful fur enveloped her mistress like a lap robe,--sheknew that Miss Elizabeth had already gone out and she felt a suddenrelaxation and rush of comfort that brought tears of pleasure very nearto her eyes.
"Ring for the tea, child, and then we can shut the door and be byourselves," said Miss Emmy, keeping her eyes fixed on the fire.
When Caleb had brought in and lighted the kettle lamp and put anotherlump of the unctuous Liverpool coal upon the fire, Poppea seated herselfon the tiger rug by Miss Emmy's chair and fed bits of Sally Lunn cake tothe cat while she waited for the elder woman to speak of the somethingthat lay behind her eager, restless expression.
"Tell me about your day," said Miss Emmy, abruptly.
Poppea began with her call at Mrs. Hewlett's, that the songs for herafternoon musical of the next week might be chosen. In addition to thelist of old English ballads, Mrs. Hewlett had asked if she knew anydarky songs, and finding that she did, suggested that she make aseparate specialty of these as novelty was a _must be_ in socialentertaining. Then Gloria Hooper had taken her home to luncheon almostforcibly, and there Bradish Winslow had drifted in and walked with herover to Chickering Hall. Tostelli's comments and the hopes that werearoused in her rounded out the narrative, while she waited, handsclasped about her knees and her eyes gazing into Miss Emmy's, for herjudgment upon the matter.
"You are beginning, Poppea. Every one is very nice to you, as theyshould be, and New York seems to you the promised land; so it seemed tome thirty-five years ago. This singing, half socially, halfprofessionally, is very pleasant while it lasts; but if, when the winteris over, you've made up your mind that you are going to let music holdthe first place, then you must go on,--go abroad and study with theconcert stage, if not opera, for the goal."
"Oh, Aunty, Aunty, you fly too fast!" Poppea cried. "Daddy is first,though music fills up all the gaps and fits in between times and people,and is letting me earn enough to save and help Daddy when he shall needit. I am not even dreaming of opera, and 'abroad' is such a far-awayplace. Why can't I stay where I am for at least a half a dozen years?"
"Why? because they won't let you;" then as if she feared by the look ofpained wonder on Poppea's face that she had gone too far in the ratherbitter mood that was upon her, she laughed lightly.
"There, there, you mustn't mind my nonsense, but I'm in a state ofrebellion myself to-day, and so wish every one else to be likewise. I'vejust told sister Elizabeth that I will go on no more of thewild-goose-chase performances known as 'making formal calls,' and thatafter the dinners and other entertainments that are already afootbetween now and March are over, I shall withdraw from what is known as'society'; not from my real friends, mind you, but merely from thetyranny of the thing that should be called the 'Institution forAmusement at the expense of one's own and one's neighbors' Comfort.' IfElizabeth wishes to continue, she must, to use a card phrase, 'go italone.'
"I am going abroad in the early spring, and when I return, I mean tospend most of my time at Westboro, and see if Jeanne and Stephen Latimerbetween them cannot find some work for my hands and brain that will keepmy heart from either freezing or turning wholly to stone," and Miss Emmybroke off and held up Diva before her face in a vain effort to suppressa dry sob that made her voice tremble.
"Why, Miss Emmy, I have always thought that you loved New York and allthe people with whom you have lived so many years,--the art galleries,theatres, music, shops, and all the rest. Don't you remember what yousaid to me about it last autumn when you urged me to come down and trymy luck? That no American has lived or is fit to judge how or where theywill spend their lives until they have seen and known New York," andPoppea arose to her knees in front of her admonisher, an expression ofincredulity on her upturned face, and her hands clasped in ahalf-beseeching, half-defensive attitude.
"Yes, I believe I did say that among other things, and it is true nonethe less because, after having tried it for the best of my life, I havedecide
d to leave it before it leaves me. The New York that I knew ispassing in more senses than one. When I first came to it, making thejourney from Boston by boat, Washington Square was the north side of theresidential city limit, the present corners of Fourteenth Street andFifth Avenue cow pastures. There were many charming country houses allthrough the northern part of the Island and more especially near theHudson, Bradish Winslow's grandfather, on the maternal side, living inone of them. We ourselves went to visit at the Waddell mansion set onthe edge of a farm with its wheat fields near what is now the corner ofFifth Avenue and Thirty-seventh Street, the site of a church, a crowdedcity in itself and this was less than forty years ago. Young as you are,you can see the changes that seven or eight years have made, Poppea."
"Yes, I remember the fire-bell that pealed out numbers, and peoplelooked in little books that they kept in their pockets to see in whatdistrict the fire was. Nora used to take me to a place down inFourteenth Street where I fed goats and chickens through the fence, andthere was a house on Broadway a little above Union Square that stood ina high-fenced garden where we used to feed the peacocks.
"But now the streets seem so much gayer and better lighted at night, andthen it is easier to get about; there are so many street-cars instead ofthe slow, jolting busses, and the elevated railroad over there on SixthAvenue is almost like flying. Though I'm very sorry there is to be a newopera-house so far uptown in the place of the dear old Academy, for Isuppose the first of a thing must always seem the best because it is thefirst," and Poppea's first night at the opera again came before her, butthis time there was more pleasure than pain in the memory.
Was it possible that she had been too sensitive? The people by whom shewas surrounded seemed to make her one of themselves without question,and yet, coming from Quality Hill as many of them did, they must allknow.
"It is not simply the growth of the city that appals me," she heard MissEmmy's voice say as if from a distance. "Formerly, society was one; youknew your friends well, their houses and their coachmen in the distance.We who entertained did it to give our friends pleasure to the best ofour ability. Now people are beginning to entertain to outvie, and thisbidding for guests and the game of chance, where the victory is to thepurse if it is only used with a certain degree of discretion, is drawingstrangers to our social midst, and presto, society is no longer one butmany, and we shall soon be driven by the crowd from our houses toentertain in hotels.
"Look at this!" and Miss Emmy tossed a couple of cards into Poppea'slap. One was the ordinary engraved card of a formal afternoon receptionannouncing that Mrs. John Sellers and the Misses Sellers would be athome on January the twenty-fourth, from four to seven. The second cardbore simply the name of Mrs. M. E. Wilson, the address on both cardsbeing the same.
"I do not see anything amiss about these cards," said Poppea, examiningthem carefully.
"Not in the cards, but in the facts back of them. Maria Wilson, one ofthe best known of the old set, has a large house, well furnished, buther husband's means have been decreasing ever since the Tweed Ring panicten years ago. The Sellers are from Minneapolis, rich, ambitious, andtheir daughters decently educated, but as a family in a social sensepositively unknown. Maria Wilson has rented them her house for thewinter, herself included, for an enormous price. It is at theirreception in her house where she is to stand sponsor for them, and if itis a success, it shows that society in New York is no longer able tostand upon its own resources. It is the entering wedge, for as soon aswe cease to know personally those we invite, one must have police indress suits to see that the strangers that come do not steal thespoons."
"How do you know all this, Aunty dear?" asked Poppea, a bewilderedexpression crossing her face as she began to wonder if the social fabriccould possibly be woven of other than the silk and fair colors in whichit presented itself to her.
"Know? Maria Wilson came here to luncheon to-day and not only told methe scheme, but asked me to receive at _her_ reception (as she calledit) and bring you to sing 'in a perfectly friendly way,' which, ofcourse, means without pay. I'm quite through with it all, and then,besides, dear child, I'm very tired; lately I only seem to breathe aninch at a time when I'm in a close room. I must get away and be myselffor a little, even though it is a rather poor thing to be, I'm afraid.
"Now as to this trip abroad--I want to see England in May and then go tothe continent for two months, and you must go with me, Poppea."
"You want me? But how about Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Esterbrook? Are theynot going?"
"No, dear; I have struck at last. It is late in the day, I allow, butonce before my eyes close I must see through them without benefit of thespectacles of other opinions. Besides, poor Willy is losing his holdupon things. Even Elizabeth has agreed that we must put our affairs atHarley's Mills into the hands of Hugh Oldys, and Mr. Cragin, our lawyerhere, has practically all the responsibility at this end. Poppea child,whatever you do or do not do in this world, do not put off living yourlife to the full every day that it is possible. To-morrow is a good wordfor hope to know, but remember that it is a bad word for a woman's heartto feed upon. Will you go with me, dear?"
Poppea was looking into the fire, watching the little flock of sparkscreep up and burn a pathway through the soot. "Folks going to meeting,"Satira Pegrim had called them when she had watched the same procession,born of the wood embers, in the foreroom chimney. Without looking up,she could feel Miss Emmy's eyes upon her face and knew that the questionin them was a double one.
"I should like to go abroad with you," she said at last, still keepingher eyes upon the fire, "and I crave living to the full, but that itmight hurt some one else and, through them, me."
"That is what I thought for years, and now I know that what I thoughtwould hurt another did not exist. You say that you would like to go. Nowthe remaining question is, will you?"
"I will try to make it yes, but between now and then something mighthappen or Daddy might need me, dear Miss Emmy."
"That will do for a beginning, child. See, the kettle has quite boiledaway and you must have fresh water."
"De mail, ladies," said Caleb, advancing at that moment with half adozen letters on his salver, while at the same time they discovered thatDiva, unobserved, had finished the cake.
Miss Emmy's mail consisted of invitations, while of Poppea's two lettersone was from Oliver Gilbert, the other from Hugh Oldys.
Gilbert wrote carefully and in detail of every village happening, howthat it was proposed, through the influence of the Quality Hill peoplewho did not like the prosaic name of the old town, to unite Westboro andHarley's Mills into a single town to be known as West Harbor. In thiscase the Westboro post-office would be consolidated with his, and hethought, under the circumstances, with the double work, he would bejustified in resigning "his charge." What did Poppea think of it? Thenhe dwelt upon Hugh Oldys's kindness in coming frequently to see them andsupping at the post-office house on Sunday nights. But he did not addthat Hugh had cross-questioned him most keenly and persistently aboutany possible ideas that he might entertain about Poppea's origin, andhad quietly told him that sooner or later he should find it out, thusputting Gilbert into something akin to rage; for, blindly enough, theone dread of his life was that some one should appear to claim the ladybaby.
For the moment Poppea was divided. Was this change, by any chance,another scheme of John Angus's to oust her Daddy, or was it aprovidential happening to render it easy for Gilbert to retire? Beingoptimistic under all her trials, she decided upon the latter and turnedto the other letter.
Hugh wrote in a subdued rather than in a sad key and, without referenceto the interim, picked up their friendship as it was before the night ofhis return when the fabric began to change its weave and pattern. Thathe felt the need of her old-time letters and direct companionship he didnot hesitate to say, at the same time taking it for granted that hiswould be a comfort to her. He told her freely of his daily routine oflife and asked for hers in such a frank way, free alike from eitherrestrain
t or curiosity, that the comrade emerged once more, and sheresolved again to write him the weekly letter of his college days.
Ah, what a boy he seemed, however much his manhood had been tried anddeveloped in the last few months, compared to the men who crowded abouther at the musicals, lavish in words of praise, personal compliments,and gifts of flowers. To be sure, they all seemed a part of the playworld in which she was living--all but Bradish Winslow, and as he in asense had stepped accidentally into her life in its own homesurroundings, so he seemed in a way to belong to it.
"A polished man of the world" was Miss Felton's favorite expressionconcerning him; yet knowing this as she did, there was something aboutWinslow's personality, his deference, at once soothing and stimulating,that when she was with him made it the most natural and desirable placefor her to be; but when he was absent, the condition was altered, andshe not only wondered at a certain influence that he held over her, butexperienced a sharp sense of repulsion at it.
It was the last of March when the rehearsals for the operetta drew to aclose. The performance would be given in Easter week. Two large houseswere to be thrown together for the occasion,--one for the musical partof the affair, the other for the cotillon and supper following, the twobeing joined by a covered passage between the gardens in the rear.
Poppea's character in the rather fantastic performance was that of ayoung girl of the pastoral type, who for a part of the play personatedan actress, and for this scene, in which there was a dance, she was toutilize the green muslin Perdita gown of her first appearance at QualityHill. Of course at this season the poppies must be artificial and moreabundant for stage effect, and after many protestations she was toldthat she simply _must_ have her eyes pencilled and a dash of color addedto her cheeks to guard against nervous pallor.
When the night came, Mr. Esterbrook was not well, and Miss Felton, forsome accountable reason, in no mood for going out, so that Miss Emmy andPoppea went to the Hoopers' alone in the depths of the last new carriagewhich, as though to carry out Miss Emmy's announcement that her days forlight blue and pink were over, was lined with rich wine-colored cloth.
Poppea hardly knew whether she wished most to go or to run away, but bythe time that she stood behind the dark green plush curtain peeping atthe audience from between its folds, the desire for achievement had cometo her, and she was ready to stay and conquer. Very lovely were theyoung society girls of the chorus arrayed as shepherdesses;unembarrassed and statuesque was the contralto of the piece, GloriaHooper, otherwise Daphnis, the lover, a superb brunette and daughter ofthe house; but for the time the sense of the music dominated her; shewas no longer Poppea of the Post-office in whose way stood many fears,but Sylvaine of the Invincible Charm, whom she was personating.
Among the familiar faces in the audience, Philip's and Bradish Winslow'swere the only ones that her memory retained as the orchestra finishedthe tinkling overture, full of the piping of shepherds, the sound ofcow-bells, and the tripping of dancing feet, and the curtain was drawnaside. Then in a moment all faces vanished but that of Tostelli, who wasconducting from under the shelter of a thick palm in a tub. He had faithin her, nor was it misplaced.
After the first act there was a storm of applause and flowers. In comingforward to bow, hand in hand with Gloria, her eyes fell upon a figurestanding behind the last row of chairs. It was John Angus, who hadevidently come without knowledge that Poppea was taking part, for theexpression of his face was so blended of surprise, incredulity, anger,and something else akin to dread, which she could not formulate, thatshe was obliged to close her eyes for a second to blot it out, and thenfortunately Sylvaine again absorbed her.
It was toward the end of the last act that the dance came, and as thetime changed for it, something compelled Poppea, she abandoned the setsteps she had been taught and improvised until the measure ended. Thenthe final storm of applause descended upon her. "Brava! brava!" Tostellicried. Coming from under his bush, he first shook her by both hands andthen kissed them publicly, saying for her ear alone, "For you the grandopera is near--very near!"
Still the applause continued. Tostelli looked at her to see if she couldstand a repetition of the intricate song of the rather artificial scene,but she shook her head. The revulsion had come; she was no longerSylvaine but herself, alone and among strangers but for the face ofPhilip, whose eyes hung on her own.
Stretching out one arm as though to enjoin silence, she stepped forward,her eyes seeing above and beyond. Then the clear legato notes of _RobinAdair_ rang forth.
"What's this dull town to me? Robin's not here!"
The effect of this sudden transition was marvellous, tears filled eyesto which they were strangers, and for no reason that their owners couldunderstand.
Then Poppea, as soon as she could break away, her arms laden withflowers, looked for Miss Emmy, her one desire being to get home and bealone. But Winslow, who was her shadow for the time, told her that MissEmmy had heard through some one who had come in from the club, where Dr.Markam, the Feltons' physician, happened to be spending the evening whensent for, that Mr. Esterbrook had been taken suddenly ill. Miss Emmy hadat once returned, and would send Nora back in the carriage for Poppeaas soon as possible.
"Is there any quiet spot where I can wait?" begged Poppea; "I'm sotired."
"Yes, at the end of the hall there are chairs among those palms; gothere, and I will bring you some supper, for I'm sure that you arehungry quite as much as tired."
For a few moments Poppea waited at the place indicated, then the coolerair of the improvised passage, which was quite empty, tempted her, andcrowding herself behind one of the curtains with which it was draped,she found an opening through which she could breathe the air of thefirst truly spring night.
Approaching voices sounded that she recognized as belonging to the threewomen who, aside from the Misses Felton, had done the most toward herestablishment--Mrs. Hewlett; her hostess Mrs. Hooper, Gloria's mother;and a young widow, Hortense Gerard, a favorite cousin of BradishWinslow's.
Fearing that they would insist upon her dancing the cotillon if she madeknown her presence, Poppea remained behind the curtain, and they,evidently in search of air also, seated themselves near by on a lowdivan. Presently the sound of her own name made Poppea regret heraction, but it was already too late.
* * * * *
_Mrs. Hewlett._ "Well, Miss Gilbert has certainly achieved a greatsuccess; what a social institution she has become in a few months!"
_The Widow._ "Yes, but she will cease to be as quickly as she hasachieved; the very fact that we have admired her so much this winter isthe reason why no one will want her next."
_Gloria's mother._ "I'm not so sure of that, Hortense; I only wish thatI could be. I'm afraid she's come to stay, or thinks she has as far asthe men are concerned; they all take her _so_ seriously. My Johnnie hadthe folly to say this morning that as soon as he was a senior he shouldoffer himself, and you know very well that your cousin Bradish won't letus say a word about her in his presence. Why didn't the Feltons havebetter sense than to take her into their family, a less than nobody? Itputs the whole thing upon a semisocial footing: otherwise we need nothave recognized her except by the envelope with the check in it."
_Mrs. Hewlett._ "I think you are a little hard on her, Charlotte; she'sa very sweet girl and not responsible for her origin, or rather lack ofit, though of course it would be deplorable if she should marry one ofour sons."
_The Widow._ "_I_ think I'll put it into some rich old rascal's head tooffer to put up for her training abroad for an operatic career: she'llsurely jump at that bait. Possibly even Brad might work himself up tothat extent; in fact, I think it's a case when he would put himself outto any degree short of matrimony, which proves her dangerous, for ifBrad will go so far, others less seasoned will go the whole ribbon.She's probably got a lot of magnetic bad blood beneath her baby skin.Think of her art and craft in dropping into _Robin Adair_ to-nightafter that Frenchy rigmarole. Yes, she
's got all the born wit of anadventuress, and she must go before she outwits us."
_Mrs. Hewlett._ "I had never thought of her in that light, before, butof course it may be so, and no mother wishes her sons to--"
* * * * *
They go on to the ball-room. Poppea clings to the curtain for support,her hand showing her hiding-place to Winslow, who has come through anopposite curtain with a plate and a glass of champagne.
"Drink this!" he said, in a voice that trembled. But Poppea shook herhead.
"How long have you been here? Ever since those shameless fence catscame?"
Another motion of the head, this time in the affirmative.
"Then you've heard every word they said?"
"Yes," Poppea's lips managed to say. At the same time pride came to herrescue; she raised her head and looked him in the face in a way that wasboth supplication and a challenge.
Hastily putting aside the food that he had brought, Winslow threw backthe curtain, and before she could resist, drew her into an anteroom outof the passageway.
"Sit down!" he commanded. Poppea dropped into a chair, but still kepther eyes, now grown dull with despair, upon him; in fact, it seemedimpossible for her to remove them.
"Don't look at me so, child! I should like to wring every one of theirscrawny necks; only tell me what to do, and I will do it."
"You can do nothing," were the words formed by Poppea's dry lips, but nosound came.
Suddenly stepping toward her and resting one knee on the divan, he beganto speak rapidly in a voice whose vibrant tones were moderated withdifficulty.
"I can, perhaps, do nothing alone, but _we_, we can do everything.
"Marry me, Poppea. I love you wholly, finally, and have ever since thenight when I first met you, also on painful ground. But together we willput away the pain, and you shall trample on those harpies that havestuck their claws in you. As Bradish Winslow's wife your word will belaw, your position in society unassailable, and my cousin Hortense inparticular will come grovelling to you by to-morrow, afraid of what shethinks you may know of her.
"Come to me, child, and let me protect you once for all!"
Poppea dragged herself slowly to her feet until her face was on a levelwith his, her eyes still fastened upon him, but the dulness was gone,and they blazed with a wild fury akin to delirium, and the color in hercheeks outdid the rouge that had not been wiped away.
"There is no one among them all to compare with you!" he whispered, hisvoice turning hoarse; so moved was he by her wistful beauty that itbecame a pain.
She did not seem to hear the last words; her anger blazed out andcooled, and her motions were like those of a somnambulist. She put herhand to her head as though listening for something that she hadforgotten but yet expected, but the Knight of the Grail and his musichad deserted her.
"Yes, I will marry you," she said in steady, monotonous voice, whollylacking in emotion.
"Come then, we will go in and announce it to our hostess before the triomay guess the good--that they have done," and he leaned forward to claspher to him, but as she shrank back, one arm before her face, still assome one who walks in a dream and wards off danger, he merely drew herhand through his arm, still grasping it.
"Not to-night, to-morrow! please let me go home!" and at that moment aman-servant came up to say that Miss Felton's carriage and maid werewaiting for Miss Gilbert.
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