A Young Girl's Wooing

by Edward Payson Roe

  CHAPTER XIII

  "YOU WILL BE DISAPPOINTED"

  Graydon felt that it was scarcely possible to resent Mr. Arnault'stactics or to blame Miss Wildmere. The former certainly had as gooda right to be a suitor as himself, and even to his prejudiced mind itwould have been ungracious in the lady had she not given some rewardfor his rival's long journey. It was natural that Mr. Arnault, an oldfriend of the Wildmeres, should sit at their table and receive theconsideration that he enjoyed. Graydon had little cause for complaintor vexation, since his rival would depart in the morning, and, judgingfrom to-day, his own suit was approaching a successful termination.The coast would be clear on the morrow, and he determined to makethe most of opportunities. He now even regretted that Madge and hisrelatives were at the house, for in some degree they trammelled hismovements by a watchful attention, which he believed was not veryfriendly. It would not be well to ignore them beyond a certain point,for it was his wish to carry out his purposes with the least possiblefriction. Madge's course had compelled a revision of his plans andexpectations, but his intimate relations with his brother in businessmade harmony and peace very essential. He felt keenly, however, thespur of Mr. Arnault's open and aggressive rivalry, and determined toenter upon an equally vigorous campaign.

  Having reached this definite conclusion, he joined Mr. and Mrs. Muiron the piazza, and after some desultory talk asked, "Where is Madge?"

  Mrs. Muir explained, adding, "I think you might go over to the chapeland accompany her home."

  "I'll be there by the time service is over," he replied.

  There was sacred music in the hotel parlor, but it seemed to himneither very sacred nor very attractive. Then he strolled toward thechapel. As the service was not over, he stood and watched the greatmoonlit mountains, with their light and shade. The scene and hourfostered the feelings to which he had given himself up. In revery hewent over the hours he had spent with Miss Wildmere since his return,and hope grew strong. In view of it all--and vividly his memoryretained everything, even to the droop of her eyelids or the tone inwhich some ordinary words had been spoken--there could scarcely be adoubtful conclusion. Thoughts of him had kept her free, and now thatthey had met again she was seeking to discover if her old impressionshad been true, and in their confirmation was surely yielding to hissuit.

  He started. Through the open windows of the adjacent chapel came theopening notes of a hymn, sung with a sweetness and power that in thestill summer night seemed almost divine. Then other voices joined, andpartially obscured the melody; but above all floated a voice that tohis trained ear had some of the rarest qualities of music.

  "That's Madge," he muttered, and strode rapidly to the door. Again,in the second stanza, the rich, pure voice thrilled his every nerve,gaining rather than losing in its effect by his approach.

  Unconsciously the poor girl had yielded to the old habit ofself-expression in music. Her heart had been heavy, and now was sadindeed. Earthly hope had been growing dim, but the words of faith shehad heard had not been without sustaining influence. With the deeplonging of her woman's nature for love--divine love, if earthly lovemust be denied--her voice in its pathos was unconsciously an appeal,full of entreaty. She half forgot her surroundings; they were nothingin her present mood. The little audience of strangers gave a sense ofsolitude.

  The quaint old tune was rich in plaintive harmony. It had survivedthe winnowing process of time, and had endeared itself to thepopular heart because expressive of the heart's unrest and desire forsomething unpossessed. Along this old, well-worn musical channel Madgepoured the full tide of her feeling, which had both the solemnity andthe pathos inseparable from all deep and sacred emotion. Graydon wasnow sure that he must dismiss one of his impressions of Madge, andfinally. No one could sing like that and be trivial at heart. "I don'tunderstand her," he muttered, gloomily, "but I appreciate one thing.She has withheld from me her confidence, she does not wish to keepher old place in my affection, and has deposed herself from it.She appears to be under the influence of a brood of sentimentalaspirations. I shall remain my old self, nor shall I gratify her byadmiring wonder. The one thing that would make life a burden to me isan intense, aesthetical, rapturously devotional woman, with her mentaleye fixed on a vague ideal. In such society I should feel much like aman compelled to walk on stilts all the time. The idea of going backto the hotel, smoking a cigar, and talking of the ordinary affairs oflife, after such music as that!"

  "It was very kind of you to come over for me," said Madge, as she cameout. "Thank you, doctor; no, there is no need of your going back withme. Good-night."

  "Thanks to you, Miss Alden, thanks, thanks. The sermon was good, butthat last hymn rounded up Sunday for me. I was going up to the house,but I'll go home and keep that music in my ears. If they had known,they wouldn't have spared you from the hotel music to-night."

  "Please say nothing about it--that is all I ask," she said, as shetook Graydon's arm.

  "Yes, Madge," he began, quietly, "you sung well. You had the rudimentsof a fine voice years ago. In gaining strength you have also won thepower to sing."

  "Yes," she said, simply.

  "Do you sing much?"

  "I do not wish to sing at all in the hotel. I did not study music inorder to be conspicuous."

  "Have you studied it very carefully?"

  "Please leave out the word 'very.' I studied it as a young girlstudies, not scientifically. I had a good master, and he did hisbest for me. Poor Herr Brachmann! he was sorry to have me come away.Perhaps in time I can make progress that will satisfy him better. Icould see that he was often dissatisfied."

  "You don't mean to suggest that you are going back to Santa Barbara?"

  "Why not?"

  "True enough, 'why not?' It was a foolish question. You doubtless havestrong attachments there."

  "I have, indeed."

  "And it's natural to go where our attachments are strongest."

  "Yes; you have proved that to-day."

  "You evidently share in my brother's disapproval. Mary would soonbecome quite reconciled."

  "I? I have no right to feel either approval or disapproval, while youhave an undoubted right to please yourself."

  "Indeed! are you so indifferent? If you think Miss Wildmereobjectionable you should disapprove."

  "If you find her altogether charming, if she realizes your ideal, isnot that sufficient? Everything is very much what it seems to us. IfI as a girl would please myself, you, surely, as a man have a right todo so."

  "Do you propose to please yourself?"

  "Indeed I do."

  "You will be disappointed. You have formed a passion for ideals. Iimagine, though, that you are somewhat different from other girlswhose future husbands must be ideal men, but who are contentthemselves to remain very much what their milliners, dressmakers, andfashion make them."

  "I can at least say that I am not content; and I am also guilty of theenormity of cherishing ideals."

  "Oh, I've found that out, if nothing else. Ideals among men are asthick as blackberries, you know. Jack Henderson dances superbly."

  "Yes; he quite meets my ideal in that respect."

  "Perhaps you left some one in Santa Barbara who meets your ideal inall respects?"

  "There was one gentleman there who approached it nearly."

  "How could you leave him?"

  "He came on with me--Mr. Wayland."

  "Pshaw! He's old enough to be your father."

  "And very like a father he was to me. I owe him an immense deal, forhe helped me so much!"

  "You did not let me help you?"

  "Yes; I did. I wrote to you for books, and read all you sent me; someparts of them several times."

  "You know that is not what I meant. I am learning to understand yousomewhat, Madge. I hope you may realize all your ideals, and find someyoung fellow who is the embodiment of the higher life, aspirations,and all that, you know."

  Her laugh rang out musically. Mrs. Muir heard it, and remarked to herhusband: "Madg
e and Graydon are getting on better. They have seemed tome to clash a little to-day."

  Mr. Muir made no reply, and Graydon, as he mounted the steps,whispered, hurriedly, "What you said about Miss Wildmere was at leastjust and fair. I wish you liked her, and would influence Henry to likeher, for I see that you have influence with him."

  She made no response by word or sign.

  The ladies soon retired, and Graydon waited in vain for anotherinterview with Miss Wildmere. While he was looking for her on thepiazza she passed in and disappeared. He at last discovered Mr.Arnault, who was smoking and making some memoranda, and, turning onhis heel, he strode away. "She might have said good-night, at least,"he thought, discontentedly, "and that fellow Arnault did not look likea man who had received his _conge."_

  That this gentleman did not regard himself as out of the race wasproved by his tactics the next morning. Before reaching the city hejoined Mr. Muir in the smoking section of a parlor car, and easilydirected their talk to the peculiar condition of business. Mr. Muirknew little in favor of his companion, and not much against him, butdevoutly hoped that he would be the winning man in the contestfor Miss Wildmere. He also knew that the firm to which Mr. Arnaultbelonged had held their heads well up in the fluctuations of thestreet. Both gentlemen deplored the present state of affairs, andhoped that there might soon be more confidence. "By the way, Mr.Muir," Mr. Arnault remarked, casually, "if you need accommodation wehave some money lying idle for a short time, which we would liketo put out as a call loan, and would be glad to place it in goodconservative hands, like yours."

  "Thank you," said Mr. Muir, with some cordiality.

  He went to his office and looked matters over carefully. He wasconvinced that a crisis was approaching. More money was requiredimmediately, since the securities in which he had invested haddeclined still further. He had not lost his faith in them at all,knowing that they had a solid basis, and would be among the first torise in value with returning confidence. He had gone so far and heldon so long that it was a terrible thing to give up now. Comparativelylittle money would probably carry him over to perfect safety, but hismeans were tied up, the banks stringent, and he had already strainedhis credit somewhat. Mr. Arnault's proffer occurred to him again, andat last, much as he disliked the expedient, he called upon the broker,who was affable, off-hand, and business-like.

  "Yes, Mr. Muir," he said, "I can let you have thirty thousand just aswell as not; as the times are, I would like some security, however."

  "Certainly, here are bonds marketable to-day, although depressedunnaturally. You are aware that they will be among the first toappreciate."

  "In ordinary times one would think so."

  "How soon do you think you may call in this loan?"

  "Well, the probabilities are, that you may keep it as long as youwish, at the rates named. They are stiff, I know, but not above themarket."

  Mr. Muir had thought it over. If he failed he was satisfied that hisassets would eventually make good every dollar he owed, with interest,while, on the other hand, even the small sum named promised topreserve his fortune and add very largely to his wealth. Thetransaction was soon completed.

  Mr. Arnault was equally satisfied that he also took but slight risk.The loan, however, was made from his own means, and was not wholly abusiness affair. He had made up his mind to win Stella Wildmere,and would not swerve from the purpose unless she engaged herselfto another. Then, even though she might be willing to break the tiethrough stress of circumstances, he would stand aloof. There was onlyone thing greater than his persistency--his pride. She was the bellewho, in his set, had been admired most generally, and his god wassuccess--success in everything on which he placed his heart, or,rather, mind. For her to become engaged to Graydon, and then, becauseof his poverty, to be willing to renounce him for a more fortunateman, would not answer at all. He must appear to the world to havewon her in fair competition with all others, and the girl had aninstinctive knowledge of this fact. The events of the previous day,with her father's note, therefore confirmed her purpose to keep bothmen in abeyance until the scale should turn.