Sound of the Trumpet

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Lisle’s eyes began to blaze. She laid down her knife and fork and prepared to rise from the table, while her mother assumed a haughty manner and answered in a cool voice, “If,” she said. “Yes, IF! You certainly have assumed a good deal, young man. There has been no question of marriage, and yet you come here as if you were giving an order for a certain style of wife to be prepared for you. You are insolent, Victor, and you do not seem to know it, which makes it all the more insulting.”

  “Oh, but that is absurd!” said the young man with a grin. “You certainly have known for years that Lisle and I were meant for each other and that neither of us had any thought of anything else but that we should marry someday. In fact, I have been debating today whether after all it wouldn’t be best for Lisle and me to get married right away, and then I would be in a position to mold her and train her in the things that will fit her for the life we have to live together. It’s just as well to be frank about it, don’t you think? And then I decided that perhaps it would be as well for her to get a little further training from the outside. But really, you know, I might be ordered to leave the country very soon as a soldier, and in that case I should insist that we be married at once. I would prefer that myself, I think, and then we could have a little enjoyment together before I go, anyway.”

  Then Lisle, quite white with excitement and anger, rose from her seat, and speaking in a low voice that could not be heard at the other tables, said, “I think this is about all I care to hear of this discussion, and I can settle the matter once and for all. I don’t intend to marry you, Victor Vandingham, either now or at any other time, and I do not intend to go away from my college and my home, either, to any place that you suggest. I do not want your suggestions, and you certainly do not have any right, nor ever will have any right to make suggestions to me or my family. Now, Mother, I’m going on to have my hair done, and I’ll meet you at the Red Cross class this evening. Good-bye, Victor. I think this is probably the last time I shall see you to talk to you. I could never forget what you have said and the way you have changed.”

  “Now, Lisle, don’t be silly!” said the boy. “What’s the matter with you? Can’t you take kidding anymore? You used to be a good sport. I had no idea you were getting so narrow in your viewpoint. Forget it, Lisle. I came here this afternoon intending to take you to the football game. It’s going to be a good game, and we’ll have fun. Sit down till I pay the check and then we’ll go on to the game and get straightened out. I don’t suppose you’d care to go to the game, too, Mother Kingsley, would you? I can easily get another ticket.”

  “Certainly not,” said Mrs. Kingsley, rising.

  “And I certainly do not care to go either,” said Lisle firmly. “I have things to do and engagements to keep. Besides, I would not care to go anywhere with you.” She turned and marched across the tearoom, stepping into the elevator that was just closing its door. It was the most thorough turning down that Victor Vandingham had ever had, though he was not greatly depressed by it. He had faith in himself and his own charm and felt he could soon win Lisle back to himself again. He would punish her for a few days and then win her back.

  So he lingered till Mrs. Kingsley had gone, had a few low-spoken words with the girl Cherry, made a tentative date with her for the evening, then went gaily away.

  Chapter 3

  Lisle Kingsley, as she walked out of the tearoom and went down in the elevator, was so angry she could hardly see where she was going. She couldn’t remember ever having felt so indignant before! To think that Victor Vandingham had dared to talk that way to her mother, and about her! Actually taking it for granted that he and she were to be married, when he hadn’t ever said a word about it to her! Just coming out in the open and announcing that it was going to happen, as if his word was law!

  Lisle’s ideas of marriage were very sacred and beautiful. When she was quite a little girl her mother had told her bits of stories from her own romance. She had told how she was walking along one day and saw a young stranger, very tall and handsome, with a pleasant look in his eyes, and then how she had met him at a friend’s house at dinner one evening, and how he had called to see her and taken her places, and what nice times they had had together. Picnics and parties and lectures and concerts. Those brief pictures had lingered in the mind of the child, always culminating in the final love story.

  How Daddy had told Mommy he loved her and how they had planned to be married and spend their life together. The little romantic touches were very tender and quite sacred in the memory of the young girl as she was growing up. A fitting pattern for the story of the lover who would perhaps come into her own life someday. But strange to say, she had never quite visualized Victor as that lover. Victor was a friend, yes, a good playmate, but the lover she had vaguely looked forward to would be very different from Victor. And so it had come to her as a sort of shock to find that Victor had been considering that she belonged to him. And she didn’t want to belong to Victor always. Oh no! Not in any way but as a friend. It had angered her, almost terrified her, to have Victor speak of marriage as a sort of business arrangement to be entered into, as if he were taking her over to support and mold, instead of the beautiful, sacred state of joy she had always felt it was. It wasn’t just for fun, like going to a football game or party together. Why didn’t Victor feel as she did? He had a good father and mother. He must have seen a few ideal marriages in his life. At least he knew her father and mother and their beautiful life. He had spent many hours in her home playing and had had ample opportunity to see how they cared for one another. Could it really be true that since he had been away to college he had accepted such different standards? She couldn’t believe it. He must just have been joking, surely, as her mother had suggested when she first told her of the change in Victor. Of course he could not have been really proposing marriage. He wouldn’t do it in that way. He was only trying to be exceedingly daring—probably rather enjoyed the idea of shocking her and her mother. Perhaps he felt that such an experience would make them understand what he had been trying to suggest, that she should go away to another college for her senior year.

  Well, if that was it, he would be disappointed, for she certainly did not wish to go away. She would not graduate from any other college than her own, where she had been working now for three happy years. She did not want new associates, new ways and standards. And perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that they had been angry with him and she had left the restaurant. It might bring him to his senses and make him understand that he could not talk to them in this casual new way he had learned.

  But the uppermost feeling in her mind was one of shame for him. To think that he had so changed! She wasn’t in love with him. By no means. She hadn’t ever thought of love in connection with him. He had just been her nice boyfriend, and now he wasn’t even nice, not the way he acted today. But perhaps after he had thought it over, he would realize what he had done.

  Well, he ought to be ashamed. He ought to realize that everybody was not like his new-fashioned friends. And if he liked that sort of thing, she didn’t want anything more to do with him. But surely now, after this, she wouldn’t be expected to go to that party!

  Of course, there would be mortifying explanations if she didn’t. She would have to write a note to Mrs. Vandingham.

  Oh, she couldn’t! How could she explain without telling her what Victor had done? And that would result in a never-ending situation. Victor would be brought into it and be required to make an apology. She could see him now, in his new role, laughing it all off, calling it a joke. And making his mother believe it! That would be the worst.

  She couldn’t go to his party now. Even if he did apologize, he would somehow make it apparent to the assembled town that there was some special arrangement between them. He would claim they were going to get married or something, and do it so publicly that she couldn’t deny it without making a fool of herself.

  Tears stung her eyes as she walked along the street. Oh, she couldn’t
go to the hairdresser’s now and sit through a long session, being asked questions! Because the hairdresser felt herself to be a privileged character, having served the Kingsleys through the years. No, she would go home, straight home, and telephone the hairdresser and call off the appointment. Then she would lock herself in her room and cry if she wanted to, without fear of questions. She was relieved that even her mother would not be home. Then she would have time to think this thing through and find out just what it was all about, this whole matter that hurt her so. If there was any secret feeling in her own heart, she must ferret it out and do something about it.

  So she stepped into a drugstore, telephoned the hairdresser, and then took a taxi home. She didn’t want to run the risk of even meeting some friend on the street and having to stop and talk. She wanted to get this trouble out of her system once and for all and not just spend time being angry. That wasn’t a healthy thing to do. She wanted to be at peace with the world, and until she had thought this thing through she couldn’t be. Her own natural world into which she had been born had been tipping and tilting ever since Victor got home in the spring, and now today it had turned completely over. What was she going to do about it? Something had to be done at once. Perhaps she had better arrange to go out West to see those cousins she hadn’t seen in years and get herself through the time of that awful party. She certainly wasn’t going to it anyway, not after today!

  So she entered her home, and calling to the servants that she had returned, ran up to her room. Locking the door she flung off her hat and coat and threw herself down on her bed in a sudden paroxysm of weeping.

  She was not a girl given to tears, and they soon spent themselves. She sat up and wiped her eyes, went out and washed her face, and then began to look herself over. What was she crying about? Why did she feel so broken up about what had occurred? So humiliated? She wasn’t in love with Victor, no, of course not. But he had been a good friend, and it was a shock to find him so different from what she had always thought him. But why waste tears on him? She must snap out of this.

  Then the telephone rang, and she slipped out in the hall and across to her mother’s room to answer it, struggling to take a deep breath and get the huskiness out of her voice.

  “Yes,” she called cheerfully in a voice that would do for any stranger. There were no tears in the sound.

  “Oh! Oh, Lisle! Is that you? Are you really at home? Oh, I’m so glad!”

  “Yes, Mother. I didn’t want to go to the hairdresser’s just now and I called it off. She didn’t mind. She had somebody waiting and was glad to be able to take them. But how did you happen to call here?”

  “Why, I called up Miss Harris and she told me you had just called and asked to be released. Lisle, child! I’m sorry you are upset. But I don’t wonder, of course. Now, dear, what do you want to do? You need to get your mind off this foolish matter. Would you rather meet me at Hathaway’s and get through our shopping or shall I come right home?”

  “Oh, Mother, I don’t believe I want to shop anymore today. We’d be sure to meet somebody, and somehow I don’t feel like talking with outsiders. I’ve just got to get things straightened in my mind before I will feel like talking.”

  “Yes, I understand, dear. And I’ll be right home. You and I need to have a good old-fashioned talk together before we go any further.”

  “Oh, Mother, you haven’t got the shopping done you had planned. Those gloves and all those other things on our list. You go on and get them. I’ll be all right.”

  “No, dear, I’m sort of upset myself. I have no further interest in shopping, and especially not without you.”

  “Oh, then, Mother, I’ll come right down and meet you. I don’t mind, really!”

  “No, dear! I’m tired. I really am! That conversation we had in the tearoom sort of took my strength away. I’m coming. Good-bye!”

  So Lisle hurried around and got herself ready to be cheerful by the time her mother came. They were that way, the Kingsley family, always playing up for each other. Never allowing depression to cloud the family sky.

  So Lisle changed into a little blue dress with daisies embroidered in a circle about the neck, a dress that had been a favorite of the family for three years. It wasn’t quite in its pristine freshness, but it was one of the dresses that Lisle had hunted out from the storage closet when she and her mother had decided to be patriotic and not buy any more new clothes or anything that they did not absolutely need. Her mother always said that the blue of the fabric in this dress exactly matched Lisle’s eyes.

  As she stood in front of the mirror tucking a cute little blue bow among her curls, there came a memory of that boy working in the street this morning whose blue eyes matched his shirt, and she smiled at the thought of how he and she had smiled at one another. Strange! Just a working sort of fellow, but he had a really sunny smile! Strange that that little incident should have left such a pleasant impression on her memory.

  When she had made herself tidy-looking for her mother, she got out a bit of needlework she was working on with Christmas in mind and made ready to be as cheerful as possible and have one of the real talks with her mother that had always been such a delight to her. Mother had a way of searching her soul without seeming to do so and planning ways to set anything right that proved to be out of kilter, a way of soothing hurts and giving courage to go forward in forgiveness and kindliness.

  So by the time her mother arrived, half the work of healing was done, because the daughter was ready to accept any suggestions that her mother would have.

  Lisle saw that her mother was more disturbed than she had owned over the telephone. She immediately set to work to soothe her, so that when they sat down before a delightful fire in the library, Lisle with her bit of embroidery in her lap and her gold thimble on her slender finger, there was a real smile on her face, and no trace of tears left.

  The mother was sitting in her own comfortable chair, with her head back, a look of rest beginning to come over her weary features. And so they began to talk.

  “Now, Lisle, my dear, I think if I were you I would just put this whole matter out of mind entirely and forget it,” began her mother.

  “Why, yes, Mother, of course,” said Lisle briskly. “But you did see what I meant when I said Victor was changed, didn’t you?”

  “I certainly did!” said Mrs. Kingsley. “I couldn’t have believed it possible. It seems incredible. But then, I suppose that is the trend of the times. A ruthless manner of thought and speech that, of course, sometimes covers the deeper, lovely feelings that used to be counted the better emotions. Of course, it may be caused by a lingering adolescence. A dislike to speak in gentler terms. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out on my way home, but I really can’t fully understand it. I have always been so sure that Victor was courteous and that he was deeply attached to you. I couldn’t have believed that he would be so blunt and rude as he was today.”

  “Well, Mother, surely you see after what happened today that I simply can’t go to that party! You understand how I feel about it, don’t you?”

  “Why, of course, dear! I’ve been thinking of that, too. I have been hoping that something will occur in time to stop that party entirely. In fact, I can’t see how his mother can bear to go on with a party when her own son is liable to have to go away to war very soon. Parties are occasions for gaiety and joy, and not for sorrowful times. One doesn’t want great hordes of people around when the heart is aching with imminent partings in the offing.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Lisle. “I don’t see how she can. But, Mother, somehow it never seemed to me that she cared for her son that way. She cares more for how he will look to the world than for what he is. She—wants him to—show off, Mother! She really does. I think she is a great deal to blame for the way Victor thinks and acts, now that he is grown up. She has taught him to look out for such things, to get everything for himself, get all the breaks, and evade all the hard work and hard things.”

  “Y
es, I’m afraid she is to blame a great deal. But still, Victor has a good mind. He might think these things out for himself.”

  “Mother, I don’t think he has been taught to think, not reasonably. I think in all the teaching he has had, himself has always been made the center, and now that he has reached the age when he considers himself grown up, he feels that he can assert himself and take what he wants out of life, and nobody dares to prevent him. I don’t think I ever really allowed myself to think that clear through to the conclusion before. But for several years, whenever I’ve been seeing him for a few hours, at a party or some game, I have noticed that more and more in him, although for the sake of old times I hated to admit it. But I couldn’t help seeing it, and it troubled me a lot. It somehow interfered with all my early standards and spoiled a lot of my childhood memories.”

  “My dear! Why did you never say anything about it before?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I think I did come near telling you several times during vacation, but I always hesitated because it seemed to me that if I admitted such a thing enough to tell you about it, that would make it true. And I just couldn’t bear to spoil things. But this time, well, I was really upset when I heard he was taking lunch with us, or I wouldn’t have let you see it. You see, he said a lot of things yesterday, when he took me to dinner and for the evening, that disturbed me, and I hadn’t had a chance to think what I could say in reply that would make him see what I meant. I never like to quarrel, you know. But there were some things he took for granted that I couldn’t let go, and I wanted a chance to think them over before I saw him again. But oh, Mother, the way he talked this afternoon, that was awful! Taking it for granted he was going to marry me, just like that, without ever having asked me what I thought about it! It was as if he were making a bargain, or buying a horse or a dog. I just hated it! Even if I’d cared anything about him I would have hated it! Do you think I was wrong, Mother? Was I just a silly child?”