Martha By-the-Day

by Julie Mathilde Lippmann

  CHAPTER XIV

  "Frank," said Mrs. Sherman one Sunday morning, some weeks later,stopping her brother on his way to the door, "can you spare me a fewmoments? I've something very important I want to discuss with you. Iwant you to help me with suggestions and advice in a matter that veryclosely concerns some one in whom I'm greatly interested."

  Mr. Ronald paused. "Meaning?" he suggested.

  "I don't know that I ought to tell you. You see, it's--it'sconfidential."

  "Suggestions and advice are foolish things to give, Catherine. They areseldom taken, never thanked for."

  "Well, in this case mine have been actually solicited. And I feel Iought to do something, because, in a way, I'm more or less responsiblefor the--the imbroglio."

  Slipping her hand through his arm, she led him back into the library.

  "You see, it's this way. Perhaps, after all, it will be better, simpler,if I don't try to beat about the bush. Amy Pelham has been terriblydevoted to Mr. Van Brandt for ever so long--oh, quite six months. Andhe has been rather attentive, though I can't say he struck me as verymuch in love. You know she asked me out to Tuxedo not long ago. Shewanted me to watch him and tell her if I thought he was _serious._ Well,I watched him, but I couldn't say I thought he was _serious._ However,you never can tell. Men are so extraordinary! They sometimes masqueradeso, their own mothers wouldn't know them."

  "Or their sisters."

  "What did you say?"

  "Nothing worth repeating. Go on with your story."

  "Well, then, one evening she brought him here, you remember. I'd askedhim to come, when I was in Tuxedo, and he evidently wanted to do so, forhe proposed to Amy that she bring him. Of course, I'd no idea he andMiss Lang had ever met before, and when I innocently ordered her in, Idid it simply because Radcliffe was refractory and refused to comewithout her, and I couldn't have a scene before guests."

  "Well?"

  "I didn't know Mr. Van Brandt came from Grand Rapids. How should I? Onenever thinks of those little, provincial towns as having any _society_."

  "You dear insular, insolent New Yorker."

  "Well, you may jeer as much as you like, but that's the way one feels. Ididn't know that, as Martha says, he was 'formerly born' in Michigan. Ijust took him for granted, as one does people one meets in our besthouses. He's evidently of good stock, he has money (not a fortune,perhaps, but enough), he's handsome, and he's seen everywhere with thesmartest people in town."

  "Well?"

  "Well, naturally Amy doesn't want to lose him, especially as she'sreally awfully fond of him and he _is_ uncommonly attractive, you know."

  "Well?"

  "It looks as if that one glimpse of Miss Lang had been enough to upseteverything for Amy. He's hardly been there since."

  "And what does she propose to do about it?"

  "She doesn't know what to do about it. That's where my suggestions andadvice are to come in."

  "I see."

  "Of course, we can't be certain, but from what Bob Van Brandt hasdropped and from what Amy has been able to gather from other sources,from people who knew Miss Lang and him in their native burg, he wasattached to her when she was no more than a kiddie. Then, when they grewup, he came East and she went abroad, and they lost sight of eachother. But, as I say, that one glimpse of her was enough to ignite theold flame. You must have seen yourself how frankly, openly he showed hisfeeling that night."

  "Well?"

  "What is one to do about it?"

  "Do about what?"

  "Why--the whole thing! Don't you see, I'm responsible in a way. If Ihadn't called Miss Lang in, Bob Van Brandt wouldn't have known she washere, and then he would have kept on with Amy. Now he's dropped her it'sup to me to make it up to her somehow."

  "It's up to you to make _what_ up to Amy?"

  "How dense you are! Why, the loss of Bob Van Brandt."

  "But if she didn't have him, how could she lose him?"

  "She didn't exactly have him, but she had a fighting chance."

  "And she wants to fight?"

  "I think she'd be willing to fight, if she saw her way to winning out."

  "Winning out against Miss Lang?"

  "Yes, if you want to put it so brutally."

  "I see you are assuming that Miss Lang is keen about Van Brandt."

  "Would you wonder if she were? It would be her salvation. Of course, Idon't feel about her any longer as I did once. I know _now_ she's alady, but the fact of her poverty remains. If she married Bob VanBrandt, she'd be comfortably settled. She'd have ease and position and,oh, of course she'll marry him if he asks her."

  "So the whole thing resolves itself down to--"

  "To this--if one could only devise a way to prevent his asking her."

  "Am I mistaken, or did I hear you say something about putting itbrutally, a few moments ago."

  "Well, I know it sounds rather horrid, but a desperate case needsdesperate medicine."

  "Catherine, you have asked for suggestions and advice. My suggestion toMiss Pelham is that she gracefully step down and out. My advice to youis that you resist the temptation to meddle. If Mr. Van Brandt wishes toask Miss Lang to marry him, he has a man's right to do so. If Miss Langwishes to marry Mr. Van Brandt after he has asked her, she has a woman'sright to do so. Any interference whatsoever would be intolerable. Youcan take my advice or leave it. But _if_ you leave it, if you attempt tomix in, you will regret it, for you will not be honorably playing thegame."

  Mrs. Sherman's lips tightened. "That's all very well," she broke outimpatiently. "That's the sort of advice men always give to women, andnever act on themselves. It's not the masculine way to sit calmly by andlet another carry off what one wants. If a man _cares,_ he fights forhis rights. It's only when he isn't interested that he's passive andspeaks of _honorably playing the game_. All's fair in love and war! Ifyou were in Amy's place--if the cases were reversed--and you sawsomething you'd set your heart on being deliberately taken away fromyou, I fancy _you_ wouldn't gracefully step down and out. At least Idon't see you doing it, in my mind's eye, Horatio!"

  "Ah, but you miss the point! There's a great difference between claimingone's own and struggling to get possession of something that is lawfullyanother's. If I were in Miss Pelham's place, and were _sure_ the one Iloved belonged to me by divine right, I'd have her--I'd have her inspite of the devil and all his works. But the thing would be to be_sure_. And one couldn't be sure so long as another claimant hadn't hadhis chance to be thrown down. When he'd had his chance, and the deckswere cleared--_then_--!"

  "Goodness, Frank! I'd no idea you could be so intense. And I'll confessI've never given you credit for so much imagination. You've been talkingof what you'd do in Amy's place quite as if you actually felt it. Yourperformance of the determined lover is really most convincing."

  Francis Ronald smiled. "A man who's succeeded in _convincing_ a womanhas not lived in vain," he said. "Well, I must be off, Catherine. Goodluck to you and to Miss Pelham--but bad luck if either of you daresstick her mischievous finger in other people's pies."

  He strode out of the room and the house.

  Meanwhile, Martha, industriously engaged in brushing Miss Lang's hair,was gradually, delicately feeling her way toward what was, in reality,the same subject.

  "Well, of course, you can have Cora if you want her. She'll be only tooglad o' the ride, but _do_ you think--now do you _reelly_ think it'sadvisable to lug a third party along when it's clear as dish-water hewants you alone by himself an' _yourself_? It's this way with men. Ifthey set out to do a thing, they gener'ly do it. But believe _me_, ifyou put impederments in their way, they'll shoor do it, an' then some.Now all them flowers an' candy that's been comin' here lately soreg'ler, they means business on Mr. Van Brandt's part _if_ pleasure onyours. He's strewin' your path with roses an' pavin' it with Huyler'schocolates, so's some day in the near future he can come marchin' alongit, an' walk straight up to the captain's office an' hand in hisapplercation for the vacancy. Now, the question is as p
lain as the noseon your face. Do you want him to do it first or do you want him to do itlast? It's up to you to decide the time, but you can betcher life it'sgoin' to be some time, Cora or no Cora, _ohne oder mit_ as our Dutchfriend acrost the hall says."

  Claire's reflection in the mirror she sat facing, showed a pair of sadlytroubled eyes.

  "O, it's very puzzling, Martha," she said. "Somehow, life seems alltopsy-turvy to me lately. So many things going wrong, so few right."

  "Now what, if I may make so bold, is wrong with your gettin' afirst-class offer from a well-off, good-lookin' gen'l'man-friend, that'sbeen keepin' comp'ny with you, off an' on, as you might say, ever sinceyou was a child, which shows that his heart's in the right place an' hisintentions is honorable. You know, you mustn't let the percession get byyou. Life's like standin' on the curbstone watching the parade--atleast, that's how it seems to young folks. They hear the music an' theysee the banners an' the floats an' they think it's goin' to be acontinuous performance. After a while they've got so used to the banda-playin' an' the flags a-wavin' that it gets to be an old story, an'they think that's what it'll be right along, so they don't trouble tokeep their eye peeled for the fella with the water-can, which he asked'em to watch out for him. No, they argue he's good enough in his way,but--'_Think_ o' the fella with the drum!' Or even, it might be, whoknows?--the grand one with his mother's big black muff on his head,doin' stunts with his grandfather's gold-topped club, his grandpa havin'been a p'liceman with a pull in the ward. An' while they stand a-waitin'for all the grandjer they're expectin', suddenly it all goes past, an'they don't see nothin' but p'raps a milk-wagon bringin' up the rear, an'the ashfalt all strewed with rag-tag-an'-bobtail, an' there's nothin'doin' in their direction, except turn around an' go home. Now, what'sthe matter with Mr. Van Brandt? If you marry him you'll be all to thegood. No worry about the rent, no pinchin' here an' plottin' there tokeep the bills down. No goin' out by the day, rain or shine, traipsin'the street on your two feet when you're so dead tired you could lay downan' let the rest walk over you. Why, lookin' at it from anystandpoint-of-view I can't see but it's a grand oppertoonity. An' you'refond of him, ain't you?"

  "O, yes, I'm very fond of Mr. Van Brandt. But I'm fond of him as afriend. I couldn't--couldn't--couldn't ever marry him."

  "What for you couldn't? It ain't as if you liked some other fellabetter! If you liked some other fella better, no matter how little youmight think you'd ever get the refusal of'm, I'd say, _stick to the reelarticle: don't be put of with substitoots_. It ain't no use tryin' tofool your heart. You can monkey with your brain, an' make it believe allsorts of tommyrot, but your heart is dead on to you, an' when it oncesets in hankerin' it means business."

  Claire nodded unseeingly to her own reflection in the glass.

  "Now _my_ idea is," Martha continued, "my idea is, if you got somethin'loomin', why, don't hide your face an' play it isn't there. There ain'tno use standin' on the ragged edge till every tooth in your headchatters with cold an' fright. You don't make nothin' _by_ it. If youlove a man like a friend or if you love a friend like a man, my adviceis, take your seat in the chair, grip a-holt o' the arms, brace yourfeet, an'--let'er go, Gallagher! It'll be over in a minit, as thedentists say."

  "But suppose you had something else on your heart. Something that hadnothing to do with--with that sort of thing?" Claire asked.

  "What sorter thing?"

  "Why--love. Suppose you'd done something unworthy of you. Suppose thesense of having done it made you wretched, made you want to make otherswretched? What would you do--then?"

  "Now, my dear, don't you make no mistake. I ain't goin' to be drew intono blindman's grab-bag little game, not on your sweet life. I ain'tergoin' to risk havin' you hate me all the rest o' your nacherl lifebecoz, to be obligin' an' also to show what a smart boy am I, I give averdick without all the everdence in. If you wanter tell me plain outwhat's frettin' you, I'll do my best accordin' to my lights, butotherwise--"

  "Well--" began Claire, and then followed, haltingly, stumblingly, thestory of her adventure in the closet.

  "At first I felt nothing but the wound to my pride, the sting of whathe--of what _they_ said," she concluded. "But, after a little, I beganto realize there was something else. I began to see what _I_ had done.For, you know, I had deliberately listened. I needn't have listened. IfI had put my hands over my ears, if I had crouched back, away from thedoor, and covered my head, I need not have overheard. But I pressed asclose as I could to the panel, and hardly breathed, because I wanted notto miss a word. And I didn't miss a word. I heard what it was nevermeant I should hear, and--I'm nothing but a common--_eavesdropper_!"

  "Now, what do you think of that?" observed Mrs. Slawson. "Now, what doyou think of that?"

  "I've tried once or twice to tell him--" continued Claire.

  "Tell who? Tell Mr. Van Brandt?"

  "No, Mr. Ronald."

  "O! You see, when you speak o' _he_ an' _him_ it might mean almost anygen'l'man. But I'll try to remember you're always referrin' to Mr.Ronald."

  "I've tried once or twice to tell him, for I can't bear to beuntruthful. But, then, I remember I'm 'only the governess'--'the rightperson in the right place'--of so little account that--that he doesn'teven know whether I'm pretty or not! And the words choke in my throat. Irealize it wouldn't mean anything to him. He'd only probably gaze downat me, or he'd be kind in that lofty way he has--and put me in my place,as he did the first time I ever saw him. And so, I've never told him. Icouldn't. But sometimes I think if I did--if I just _made_ myself do it,I could hold up my head again and not feel myself growing bitter andsharp, because something is hurting me in my conscience."

  "That's it!" said Martha confidently. "It's your conscience. Believe_me_, consciences is the dickens an' all for makin' a mess o' things,when they get right down to business. Now, if I was you, I wouldn'tbother Mr. Ronald with my squalms o' conscience. Very prob'ly when itcomes to consciences he has troubles of his own--at least, if he ain't,he's an exception an' a rare curiosity, an' Mr. Pierpont Morgan oughterbuy him for the Museum. When your conscience tells you you'd oughtertell, ten to one you'd oughtn't. Give other folks a chance. What theydon't know can't worry 'em. Besides, your just _tellin_' a thing don'tlet you out. You can't get clear so easy as that. It's up to you to workit out, so what's wrong is made _right_, an' do it _yourself_--not trustto nobody else. You can't square up by heavin' your load offn your ownshoulders onto another fella's. You think you feel light coz you doneyour dooty, when ten to one you _done_ your friend. No! I wouldn'tadvise turnin' state's everdence on yourself unless it was to saveanother from the gallus. As it is, you can take it from me, the bestthing you can do for that--conscience o' yours, is get busy in anotherdirection. Dress yourself up as fetchin' as you can, go out motorin'with your gen'l'man friend like he ast you to, let him get his perposaloffn his chest, an' then tell'm--you'll be a sister to'm."