Wild Wings

by Margaret Piper Chalmers

  CHAPTER XIV

  SHACKLES

  The evening was a specially gala occasion, with a dinner dance on, thelast big party before Tony went home to her Hill. The great ball room atCrest House had been decorated with a network of greenery and crimsonrambler roses. A ruinous-priced, _de luxe_ orchestra had been broughtdown from the city. The girls had saved their prettiest gowns and lookedtheir rainbow loveliest for the crowning event.

  Tony was wearing an exquisite white chiffon and silver creation, withsilver slippers and a silver fillet binding her dark hair. Alan had senther some wonderful orchids tied with silver ribbon, and these she wore;but no jewelry whatever, not even a ring. There was somethingparticularly radiant about her young loveliness that night. The young menhovered about her like honey bees about a rose and at every dance theycut in and cut in until her white and silver seemed to be drifting fromone pair of arms to another.

  Tony was very gay and bountiful and impartial in her smiles and favors,but all the time she waited, knowing that presently would come the onedance to which there would be no cutting in, the dance that would makethe others seem nothing but shadows.

  By and by the hour struck. She saw Alan leave his place by the windowwhere he had been moodily lounging, saw him come toward her, tallerthan any man in the room, distinguished--a king among the rest, itseemed to Tony, waiting, longing for his coming? yet half dreading it,too. For the sooner he came, the sooner it must all end. She was withHal at the moment, waiting for the music to begin, but as Alanapproached she turned to her companion with a quick appeal in her eyesand a warm flush on her cheeks.

  "I am sorry, Hal," she said, low in his ear. "But this is Alan's. He isgoing away to-morrow. Forgive me."

  Hal turned, stared at Alan Massey, turned back to Tony, bowed andmoved away.

  "Hanged if there isn't something magnificent about the fellow," hethought. "No matter how you detest him there is something about him thatgets you. I wonder how far he has gone with Tony. Gee! It's a rottencombination. But Lordy! How they can dance--those two!"

  Never as long as she lived was Tony Holiday to forget that dance withAlan Massey. As a musician pours himself into his violin, as a poet putshis soul into his sonnet, as a sculptor chisels his dream in marble, soher companion flung his passion and despair and imploring into hisdancing. They forgot the others, forgot everything but themselves. Theymight have been dancing alone on the top of Olympus for all either knewor cared for the rest of the world.

  It was Alan, not Tony, who brought it to an end, however. He whisperedsomething in the girl's ear and their feet paused. In a moment he washolding open the French window for her to pass out into the night. Thewhite and silver vanished like a cloud. Alan Massey followed. The windowswung shut again. The music stopped abruptly as if now its inspirationhad come to an end. A single note of a violin quivered off into silenceafter the others, like the breath of beauty itself passing.

  Carlotta and her aunt happened to be standing near each other. The girl'seyes were troubled. She wished Alan had not come back at all from thecity. She hoped he really intended to go away to-morrow as he had toldher. More than all she hoped she was right in believing that Tony hadrefused to marry him. Like Dick, Carlotta had reverence for the Holidaytradition. She could not bear to think of Tony's marrying Alan. She feltwoefully responsible for having brought the two together.

  "Did you say he was going to-morrow?" asked her aunt.

  Carlotta nodded.

  "He won't go," prophesied Miss Cressy.

  "Oh, yes. I think he will. I don't know for certain but I have an ideashe refused him this morning."

  "Ah, but that was this morning. Things look very different by star light.That child ought not to be out there with him. She is losing her head."

  "Aunt Lottie! Alan is a gentleman," demurred Carlotta.

  Miss Lottie smiled satirically. Her smile repeated Ted Holiday's verdictthat some gentlemen were rotters.

  "You forget, my dear, that I knew Alan Massey when you and Tony were inshort petticoats and pigtails. You can't trust too much to hisgentlemanliness."

  "Of course, I know he isn't a saint," admitted Carlotta. "But you don'tunderstand. It is real with Alan this time. He really cares. It isn'tjust--just the one thing."

  "It is always the one thing with Alan Massey's kind. I know what I amtalking about, Carlotta. He was a little in love with me once. I dare saywe both thought it was different at the time. It wasn't. It was prettymuch the same thing. Don't cherish any romantic notions about love,Carlotta. There isn't any love as you mean it."

  "Oh yes, there is," denied Carlotta suddenly, a little fiercely."There is love, but most of us aren't--aren't worthy of it. It is toobig for us. That is why we get the cheap _little_ stuff. It is all weare fit for."

  Miss Carlotta stared at her niece. But before she could speak HalUnderwood had claimed the latter for a dance.

  "H--m!" she mused looking after the two. "So even Carlotta isn't immune.I wonder who he was."

  Meanwhile, out in the garden Tony and Alan had strayed over to thefountain, just as they had that first evening after that first dance.

  "Tony, belovedest, let me speak. Listen to me just once more. You do loveme. Don't lie to me with your lips when your eyes told me the truth inthere. You are mine, mine, my beautiful, my love--all mine."

  He drew her into his arms, not passionately but gently. It was hisgentleness that conquered. A storm of unrestrained emotion would havedriven her away from him, but his sudden quiet strength and tendernessmelted her last reservation. She gave her lips unresisting to his kiss.And with that kiss, desire of freedom and all fear left her. For themoment, at least, love was all and enough.

  "Tony, my belovedest," he whispered. "Say it just once. Tell me you loveme." It was the old, old plea, but in Tony's ears it was immortally new.

  "I love you, Alan. I didn't want to. I have fought it all along as youknow. But it was no use. I do love you."

  "My darling! And I love you. You don't know how I love you. It is likesuddenly coming out into sunshine after having lived in a cave all mylife. Will you marry me to-morrow, _carissima_?"

  But she drew away from his arms at that.

  "Alan, I can't marry you ever. I can only love you."

  "Why not? You must, Tony!" The old masterfulness leaped into his voice.

  "I cannot, Alan. You know why."

  She lifted her eyes to his and in their clear depths he saw reflected hisown willful, stained, undisciplined past. He bowed his head in real shameand remorse. Nothing stood between himself and Antoinette Holiday buthimself. He had sown the wind. He reaped the whirlwind.

  After a moment he looked up again. He made no pretence ofmisunderstanding her meaning.

  "You couldn't forgive?" he pleaded brokenly. Gone was the royal-willedAlan Massey. Only a beggar in the dust remained.

  "Yes, Alan. I could forgive. I do now. I think I can understand how suchthings can be in a man's life though it would break my heart to think Tedor Larry were like that. But you never had a chance. Nobody ever helpedyou to keep your eyes on the stars."

  "They are there now," he groaned. "You are my star, Tony, and stars arevery, very far away from the like of me," he echoed Carlotta's phrase.

  For almost the first time in his life humility possessed him. Had heknown it, it lifted him higher in Tony's eyes than all his arrogance andconceit of power had ever done.

  Gently she slid her hand into his.

  "I don't feel far away, Alan. I feel very near. But I can't marryyou--not now anyway. You will have to prove to them all--to me, too--thatyou are a man a Holiday might be proud to marry. I could forget thepast. I think I could persuade Uncle Phil and the rest to forget it, too.They are none of them self-righteous Puritans. They could understand,just as I understand, that a man might fall in battle and carry scars ofdefeat, but not be really conquered. Alan, tell me something. It isn'teasy to ask but I must. Are the things I have to forget far back in thepast or--nearer? I know they go back
to Paris days, the days Miss Lottiebelongs to. Oh, yes," as he started at that. "I guessed that. You mustn'tblame her. She was merely trying to warn me. She meant it for my good,not to be spiteful and not because she still cares, though I think shedoes. And I know there are things that belong to the time after yourmother died, and you didn't care what you did because you were sounhappy. But are they still nearer? How close are they, Alan?"

  He shook his head despairingly.

  "I wish I could lie to you, Tony. I can't. They are too close to bepleasant to remember. But they never will be again. I swear it. Can youbelieve it?"

  "I shall have to believe it--be convinced of it before I could marryyou. I can't marry you, not being certain of you, just because my heartbeats fast when you come near me, because I love your voice and yourkisses and would rather dance with you than to be sure of going toHeaven. Marriage is a world without end business. I can't rush into itblindfold. I won't."

  "You don't love me as I love you or you couldn't reason so coldly aboutit," he reproached. "You would go blindfold anywhere--to Hell itselfeven, with me."

  "I don't know, Alan. I could let myself go. While we were dancing inthere I am afraid I would have been willing to go even as far as you saywith you. But out here in the star-light I am back being myself. I wantto make my life into something clean and sweet and fine. I don't want tolet myself be driven to follow weak, selfish, rash impulses and do thingsthat will hurt other people and myself. I don't want to make my peoplesorry. They are dearer than any happiness of my own. They would not letme marry you now, even if I wished it. If I did what you want and whatmaybe something in me wants too--run off and marry you tomorrow withouttheir consent--it would break their hearts and mine, afterward when I hadwaked up to what I had done. Don't ask me, dear. I couldn't do it."

  "But what will you do, Tony? Won't you marry me ever?" Alan's tone washelpless, desolate. He had run up against a power stronger than any hehad ever wielded, a force which left him baffled.

  "I don't know. It will depend upon you. A year from now, if you stillwant me and I am still free, if you can come to me and tell me you havelived for twelve months as a man who loves a woman ought to live, I willmarry you if I love you enough; and I think--I am sure, I shall, for Ilove you very much this minute."

  "A year! Tony, I can't wait a year for you. I want you now." Alan's tonewas sharp with dismay. He was not used to waiting for what he desired. Hehad taken it on the instant, as a rule, and as a rule, his takings hadbeen dust and ashes as soon as they were in his hands.

  "You cannot have me, Alan. You can never have me unless you earn theright to win me--straight. Understand that once for all. I will not marrya weakling. I will marry--a conquerer--perhaps."

  "You mean that, Tony?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Then, by God, I'll be a conquerer!" he boasted.

  "I hope you will. Oh, my dear, my dear! It will break my heart if youfail. I love you." And suddenly Tony was clinging to him, just a womanwho cared, who wanted her lover, even as he wanted her. But in abreath she pulled herself away. "Take me in, Alan, now," she said."Kiss me once before we go. I shall not see you in the morning. Thisis really good-by."

  Later, Carlotta, coming in to say goodnight to Tony, found the lattersitting in front of the mirror brushing out her abundant red-brown hairand noticed how very scarlet her friend's cheeks were and what atell-tale shining glory there was in her eyes.

  "It was a lovely party," announced Tony casually, unaware how muchCarlotta had seen over her shoulder in the mirror.

  "Tony, are you in love with Alan Massey?" demanded Carlotta.

  Tony whirled around on the stool, her cheeks flying deeper crimsonbanners at this unexpected challenge.

  "I am afraid I am, Carlotta," she admitted. "It is rather a mess,isn't it?"

  Carlotta groaned and dropping into a chaise lounge encircled her kneeswith her arms, staring with troubled eyes at her guest.

  "A mess? I should say it was--worse than a mess--a catastrophe. You knowwhat Alan is--isn't--" She floundered off into silence.

  "Oh, yes," said Tony, the more tranquil of the two. "I know what he isand isn't, better than most people, I think. I ought to. But I love him.I just discovered it to-night, or rather it is the first time I ever letmyself look straight at the fact. I think I have known it from thebeginning."

  "But Tony! You won't marry him. You can't. Your people will never letyou. They oughtn't to let you."

  Tony shook back her wavy mane of hair, sent it billowing over herrose-colored satin kimono.

  "It don't matter if the whole world won't let me. If I decide to marryAlan I shall do it."

  "Tony!"

  There was shocked consternation in Carlotta's tone and Tony relentingburst into a low, tremulous little laugh.

  "Don't worry, Carlotta. I'm not so mad as I sound. I told Alan he wouldhave to wait a year. He has to prove to me he is--worth loving."

  "But you are engaged?" Carlotta was relieved, but not satisfied.

  Tony shook her head.

  "Absolutely not. We are both free as air--technically. If you were inlove yourself you would know how much that amounts to by way of freedom."

  Carlotta's golden head was bowed. She did not answer her friend'simplication that she could not be expected to comprehend the delicate,invisible, omnipotent shackles of love.

  "Don't tell anyone, Carlotta, please. It is our secret--Alan's and mine.Maybe it will always he a secret unless he--measures up."

  "You are not going to tell your uncle?"

  "There is nothing to tell yet."

  "And I suppose this is the end of poor Dick."

  "Don't be silly, Carlotta. Dick never said a word of love to me inhis life."

  "That doesn't mean he doesn't think 'em. You have convenient eyes, Tonydarling. You see only what you wish to see."

  "I didn't want to see Alan's love. I tried dreadfully hard not to. But itset up a fire in my own house and blazed and smoked until I had to dosomething about it. See here, Carlotta. I'd like to ask you a question ortwo. You are not really going to marry Herbert Lathrop, are you?"

  A queer little shadow, almost like a veil, passed over Carlotta's face atthis counter charge.

  "Why not?" she parried.

  "You know why not. He is exactly what Hal Underwood calls him, a poorfish. He is as close to being a nonentity as anything I ever saw."

  "Precisely why I selected him," drawled Carlotta. "I've got to marrysomebody and poor Herbert hasn't a vice except his excess of virtue. Wecan't have another old maid in the family. Aunt Lottie is a shiningexample of what to avoid. I am not going to be 'Lottie the second' I havedecided on that."

  "As if you could," protested Tony indignantly.

  "Oh, I could. You look at Aunt Lottie's pictures of fifteen years ago.She was just as pretty as I am. She had loads of lovers but somehow theyall slipped through her fingers. She has been sex-starved. She ought tohave married and had children. I don't want to be a hungry spinster. Theyare infernally miserable."

  "Carlotta!" Tony was a little shocked at her friend's bluntness, alittle puzzled as to what lay behind her arguments. "You don't have tobe a hungry spinster. There are other men besides Herbert that want tomarry you."

  "Certainly. Some of them want to marry my money. Some of them want tomarry my body. I grant you Herbert is a poor fish in some ways, but atleast he wants to marry me, myself, which is more than the others do."

  "That isn't true. Hal Underwood wants to marry you, yourself."

  "Oh, Hal!" conceded Carlotta. "I forgot him for a moment. You are right.He is real--too real. I should hurt him marrying him and not caringenough. That is why a nonentity is preferable. It doesn't know what itis missing. Hal would know."

  "But there is no reason why you shouldn't wait until you find somebodyyou could care for," persisted Tony.

  "That is all you know about it, my dear. There is the best reason in theworld. I found him--and lost him."

  "Carlotta--is it Phil?"


  Carlotta sprang up and went over to the window. She took the rose she hadbeen wearing, in her hands and deliberately pulled it apart letting thepetals drift one by one out into the night. Then she turned back to Tony.

  "Don't ask questions, Tony. I am not going to talk." But she lingered amoment beside her friend. "You and I, Tony darling, don't seem to havevery much luck in love," she murmured. "I hope you will be happy withAlan, if you do marry him. But happiness isn't exactly necessary. Thereare other things--" She broke off and began again. "There are otherthings in a man's life besides love. Somebody said that to me once and Ibelieve it is true. But there isn't so much besides that matters much toa woman. I wish there were. I hate love." And pressing a rare kiss on herfriend's cheek Carlotta vanished for the night.

  Meanwhile Alan Massey smoked and thought and cursed the past that had himin its hateful toils. Like the guilty king in Hamlet, his soul,"struggling to be free" was "but the more engaged." He honestly desiredto be worthy of Tony Holiday, to stand clear in her eyes, but he did notwant it badly enough, to the "teeth and forehead of his faults to give inevidence." He did not want to bare the one worst plague spot of all andrun the risk not only of losing Tony himself but perhaps also of clearingthe way to her for his cousin, John Massey. Small wonder he smoked galland wormwood in his cigarettes that night.

  And far away in the heat and grime and din of the great city, Dick Carsonthe nameless, who was really John Massey and heir to a great fortune, satdreaming over a girl's picture, telling himself that Tony must care alittle to have gotten up in the silver gray of the morning to see him offso kindly. Happily for the dreamer's peace of mind he had no means ofknowing that that very night, in the starlit garden by the sea, TonyHoliday had taken upon herself the mad and sad and glad bondage of love.