IX.
NELSON VANDERLYN, still in his travelling clothes, paused on thethreshold of his own dining-room and surveyed the scene with pardonablesatisfaction.
He was a short round man, with a grizzled head, small facetious eyes anda large and credulous smile.
At the luncheon table sat his wife, between Charlie Strefford and NickLansing. Next to Strefford, perched on her high chair, Clarissa thronedin infant beauty, while Susy Lansing cut up a peach for her. Throughwide orange awnings the sun slanted in upon the white-clad group.
"Well--well--well! So I've caught you at it!" cried the happy father,whose inveterate habit it was to address his wife and friends as if hehad surprised them at an inopportune moment. Stealing up from behind, helifted his daughter into the air, while a chorus of "Hello, old Nelson,"hailed his appearance.
It was two or three years since Nick Lansing had seen Mr. Vanderlyn, whowas now the London representative of the big New York bank of Vanderlyn& Co., and had exchanged his sumptuous house in Fifth Avenue foranother, more sumptuous still, in Mayfair; and the young man lookedcuriously and attentively at his host.
Mr. Vanderlyn had grown older and stouter, but his face still keptits look of somewhat worn optimism. He embraced his wife, greeted Susyaffectionately, and distributed cordial hand-grasps to the two men.
"Hullo," he exclaimed, suddenly noticing a pearl and coral trinkethanging from Clarissa's neck. "Who's been giving my daughter jewellery,I'd like to know!"
"Oh, Streffy did--just think, father! Because I said I'd rather have itthan a book, you know," Clarissa lucidly explained, her arms tight abouther father's neck, her beaming eyes on Strefford.
Nelson Vanderlyn's own eyes took on the look of shrewdness which cameinto them whenever there was a question of material values.
"What, Streffy? Caught you at it, eh? Upon my soul-spoiling the bratlike that! You'd no business to, my dear chap-a lovely baroque pearl--"he protested, with the half-apologetic tone of the rich man embarrassedby too costly a gift from an impecunious friend.
"Oh, hadn't I? Why? Because it's too good for Clarissa, or too expensivefor me? Of course you daren't imply the first; and as for me--I've had awindfall, and am blowing it in on the ladies."
Strefford, Lansing had noticed, always used American slang when he wasslightly at a loss, and wished to divert attention from the main point.But why was he embarrassed, whose attention did he wish to divert, Itwas plain that Vanderlyn's protest had been merely formal: like most ofthe wealthy, he had only the dimmest notion of what money representedto the poor. But it was unusual for Strefford to give any one a present,and especially an expensive one: perhaps that was what had fixedVanderlyn's attention.
"A windfall?" he gaily repeated.
"Oh, a tiny one: I was offered a thumping rent for my little place atComo, and dashed over here to squander my millions with the rest ofyou," said Strefford imperturbably.
Vanderlyn's look immediately became interested and sympathetic."What--the scene of the honey-moon?" He included Nick and Susy in hisfriendly smile.
"Just so: the reward of virtue. I say, give me a cigar, will you, oldman, I left some awfully good ones at Como, worse luck--and I don't mindtelling you that Ellie's no judge of tobacco, and that Nick's too fargone in bliss to care what he smokes," Strefford grumbled, stretching ahand toward his host's cigar-case.
"I do like jewellery best," Clarissa murmured, hugging her father.
Nelson Vanderlyn's first word to his wife had been that he hadbrought her all her toggery; and she had welcomed him with appropriateenthusiasm. In fact, to the lookers-on her joy at seeing him seemedrather too patently in proportion to her satisfaction at getting herclothes. But no such suspicion appeared to mar Mr. Vanderlyn's happinessin being, for once, and for nearly twenty-four hours, under the sameroof with his wife and child. He did not conceal his regret at havingpromised his mother to join her the next day; and added, with a wistfulglance at Ellie: "If only I'd known you meant to wait for me!"
But being a man of duty, in domestic as well as business affairs, he didnot even consider the possibility of disappointing the exacting old ladyto whom he owed his being. "Mother cares for so few people," he used tosay, not without a touch of filial pride in the parental exclusiveness,"that I have to be with her rather more than if she were more sociable";and with smiling resignation he gave orders that Clarissa should beready to start the next evening.
"And meanwhile," he concluded, "we'll have all the good time that'sgoing."
The ladies of the party seemed united in the desire to further thisresolve; and it was settled that as soon as Mr. Vanderlyn had despatcheda hasty luncheon, his wife, Clarissa and Susy should carry him off for atea-picnic at Torcello. They did not even suggest that Strefford or Nickshould be of the party, or that any of the other young men of the groupshould be summoned; as Susy said, Nelson wanted to go off alone with hisharem. And Lansing and Strefford were left to watch the departure of thehappy Pasha ensconced between attentive beauties.
"Well--that's what you call being married!" Strefford commented, wavinghis battered Panama at Clarissa.
"Oh, no, I don't!" Lansing laughed.
"He does. But do you know--" Strefford paused and swung about on hiscompanion--"do you know, when the Rude Awakening comes, I don't care tobe there. I believe there'll be some crockery broken."
"Shouldn't wonder," Lansing answered indifferently. He wandered away tohis own room, leaving Strefford to philosophize to his pipe.
Lansing had always known about poor old Nelson: who hadn't, except poorold Nelson? The case had once seemed amusing because so typical; now, itrather irritated Nick that Vanderlyn should be so complete an ass. Buthe would be off the next day, and so would Ellie, and then, for manyenchanted weeks, the palace would once more be the property of Nick andSusy. Of all the people who came and went in it, they were the only oneswho appreciated it, or knew how it was meant to be lived in; and thatmade it theirs in the only valid sense. In this light it became easy toregard the Vanderlyns as mere transient intruders.
Having relegated them to this convenient distance, Lansing shut himselfup with his book. He had returned to it with fresh energy after his fewweeks of holiday-making, and was determined to finish it quickly. He didnot expect that it would bring in much money; but if it were moderatelysuccessful it might give him an opening in the reviews and magazines,and in that case he meant to abandon archaeology for novels, sinceit was only as a purveyor of fiction that he could count on earning aliving for himself and Susy.
Late in the afternoon he laid down his pen and wandered out of doors.He loved the increasing heat of the Venetian summer, the bruisedpeach-tints of worn house-fronts, the enamelling of sunlight on darkgreen canals, the smell of half-decayed fruits and flowers thickeningthe languid air. What visions he could build, if he dared, of beingtucked away with Susy in the attic of some tumble-down palace, abovea jade-green waterway, with a terrace overhanging a scrap of neglectedgarden--and cheques from the publishers dropping in at convenientintervals! Why should they not settle in Venice if he pulled it off!
He found himself before the church of the Scalzi, and pushing open theleathern door wandered up the nave under the whirl of rose-and-lemonangels in Tiepolo's great vault. It was not a church in which one waslikely to run across sight-seers; but he presently remarked a young ladystanding alone near the choir, and assiduously applying her field-glassto the celestial vortex, from which she occasionally glanced down at anopen manual.
As Lansing's step sounded on the pavement, the young lady, turning,revealed herself as Miss Hicks.
"Ah--you like this too? It's several centuries out of your line, though,isn't it!" Nick asked as they shook hands.
She gazed at him gravely. "Why shouldn't one like things that are outof one's line?" she answered; and he agreed, with a laugh, that it wasoften an incentive.
She continued to fix her grave eyes on him, and after one or two remarksabout the Tiepolos he perceived that she was feeli
ng her way toward asubject of more personal interest.
"I'm glad to see you alone," she said at length, with an abruptness thatmight have seemed awkward had it not been so completely unconscious.She turned toward a cluster of straw chairs, and signed to Nick to seathimself beside her.
"I seldom do," she added, with the serious smile that made her heavyface almost handsome; and she went on, giving him no time to protest: "Iwanted to speak to you--to explain about father's invitation to go withus to Persia and Turkestan."
"To explain?"
"Yes. You found the letter when you arrived here just after yourmarriage, didn't you? You must have thought it odd, our asking you justthen; but we hadn't heard that you were married."
"Oh, I guessed as much: it happened very quietly, and I was remiss aboutannouncing it, even to old friends."
Lansing frowned. His thoughts had wandered away to the evening when hehad found Mrs. Hicks's letter in the mail awaiting him at Venice.The day was associated in his mind with the ridiculous and mortifyingepisode of the cigars--the expensive cigars that Susy had wanted tocarry away from Strefford's villa. Their brief exchange of views on thesubject had left the first blur on the perfect surface of his happiness,and he still felt an uncomfortable heat at the remembrance. For a fewhours the prospect of life with Susy had seemed unendurable; and it wasjust at that moment that he had found the letter from Mrs. Hicks, withits almost irresistible invitation. If only her daughter had known hownearly he had accepted it!
"It was a dreadful temptation," he said, smiling.
"To go with us? Then why--?"
"Oh, everything's different now: I've got to stick to my writing."
Miss Hicks still bent on him the same unblinking scrutiny. "Does thatmean that you're going to give up your real work?"
"My real work--archaeology?" He smiled again to hide a twitch of regret."Why, I'm afraid it hardly produces a living wage; and I've got to thinkof that." He coloured suddenly, as if suspecting that Miss Hicks mightconsider the avowal an opening for he hardly knew what ponderousoffer of aid. The Hicks munificence was too uncalculating not to beoccasionally oppressive. But looking at her again he saw that her eyeswere full of tears.
"I thought it was your vocation," she said.
"So did I. But life comes along, and upsets things."
"Oh, I understand. There may be things--worth giving up all other thingsfor."
"There are!" cried Nick with beaming emphasis.
He was conscious that Miss Hicks's eyes demanded of him even more thanthis sweeping affirmation.
"But your novel may fail," she said with her odd harshness.
"It may--it probably will," he agreed. "But if one stopped to considersuch possibilities--"
"Don't you have to, with a wife?"
"Oh, my dear Coral--how old are you? Not twenty?" he questioned, layinga brotherly hand on hers.
She stared at him a moment, and sprang up clumsily from her chair. "Iwas never young... if that's what you mean. It's lucky, isn't it, thatmy parents gave me such a grand education? Because, you see, art's awonderful resource." (She pronounced it RE-source.)
He continued to look at her kindly. "You won't need it--or anyother--when you grow young, as you will some day," he assured her.
"Do you mean, when I fall in love? But I am in love--Oh, there'sEldorada and Mr. Beck!" She broke off with a jerk, signalling with herfield-glass to the pair who had just appeared at the farther end of thenave. "I told them that if they'd meet me here to-day I'd try to makethem understand Tiepolo. Because, you see, at home we never reallyhave understood Tiepolo; and Mr. Beck and Eldorada are the only ones torealize it. Mr. Buttles simply won't." She turned to Lansing and heldout her hand. "I am in love," she repeated earnestly, "and that's thereason why I find art such a RE source."
She restored her eye-glasses, opened her manual, and strode across thechurch to the expectant neophytes.
Lansing, looking after her, wondered for half a moment whether Mr. Beckwere the object of this apparently unrequited sentiment; then, with aqueer start of introspection, abruptly decided that, no, he certainlywas not. But then--but then--. Well, there was no use in following upsuch conjectures.... He turned home-ward, wondering if the picnickershad already reached Palazzo Vanderlyn.
They got back only in time for a late dinner, full of chaff andlaughter, and apparently still enchanted with each other's society.Nelson Vanderlyn beamed on his wife, sent his daughter off to bed with akiss, and leaning back in his armchair before the fruit-and-flower-ladentable, declared that he'd never spent a jollier day in his life. Susyseemed to come in for a full share of his approbation, and Lansingthought that Ellie was unusually demonstrative to her friend. Strefford,from his hostess's side, glanced across now and then at young Mrs.Lansing, and his glance seemed to Lansing a confidential comment on theVanderlyn raptures. But then Strefford was always having private jokeswith people or about them; and Lansing was irritated with himself forperpetually suspecting his best friends of vague complicities at hisexpense. "If I'm going to be jealous of Streffy now--!" he concludedwith a grimace of self-derision.
Certainly Susy looked lovely enough to justify the most irrationalpangs. As a girl she had been, for some people's taste, a triflefine-drawn and sharp-edged; now, to her old lightness of line was addeda shadowy bloom, a sort of star-reflecting depth. Her movements wereslower, less angular; her mouth had a needing droop, her lids seemedweighed down by their lashes; and then suddenly the old spirit wouldreveal itself through the new languor, like the tartness at the coreof a sweet fruit. As her husband looked at her across the flowers andlights he laughed inwardly at the nothingness of all things else.
Vanderlyn and Clarissa left betimes the next morning; and Mrs.Vanderlyn, who was to start for St. Moritz in the afternoon, devotedher last hours to anxious conferences with her maid and Susy. Strefford,with Fred Gillow and the others, had gone for a swim at the Lido, andLansing seized the opportunity to get back to his book.
The quietness of the great echoing place gave him a foretaste of thesolitude to come. By mid-August all their party would be scattered: theHickses off on a cruise to Crete and the AEgean, Fred Gillow on the wayto his moor, Strefford to stay with friends in Capri till his annualvisit to Northumberland in September. One by one the others wouldfollow, and Lansing and Susy be left alone in the great sun-proofpalace, alone under the star-laden skies, alone with the great orangemoons-still theirs!--above the bell-tower of San Giorgio. The novel, inthat blessed quiet, would unfold itself as harmoniously as his dreams.
He wrote on, forgetful of the passing hours, till the door opened and heheard a step behind him. The next moment two hands were clasped over hiseyes, and the air was full of Mrs. Vanderlyn's last new scent.
"You dear thing--I'm just off, you know," she said. "Susy told me youwere working, and I forbade her to call you down. She and Streffy arewaiting to take me to the station, and I've run up to say good-bye."
"Ellie, dear!" Full of compunction, Lansing pushed aside his writing andstarted up; but she pressed him back into his seat.
"No, no! I should never forgive myself if I'd interrupted you. Ioughtn't to have come up; Susy didn't want me to. But I had to tell you,you dear.... I had to thank you..."
In her dark travelling dress and hat, so discreetly conspicuous, sonegligent and so studied, with a veil masking her paint, and gloveshiding her rings, she looked younger, simpler, more natural than he hadever seen her. Poor Ellie such a good fellow, after all!
"To thank me? For what? For being so happy here?" he laughed, taking herhands.
She looked at him, laughed back, and flung her arms about his neck.
"For helping me to be so happy elsewhere--you and Susy, you two blesseddarlings!" she cried, with a kiss on his cheek.
Their eyes met for a second; then her arms slipped slowly downward,dropping to her sides. Lansing sat before her like a stone.
"Oh," she gasped, "why do you stare so? Didn't you know...?"
They hea
rd Strefford's shrill voice on the stairs. "Ellie, where thedeuce are you? Susy's in the gondola. You'll miss the train!"
Lansing stood up and caught Mrs. Vanderlyn by the wrist. "What do youmean? What are you talking about?"
"Oh, nothing... But you were both such bricks about the letters.... Andwhen Nelson was here, too.... Nick, don't hurt my wrist so! I must run!"
He dropped her hand and stood motionless, staring after her andlistening to the click of her high heels as she fled across the room andalong the echoing corridor.
When he turned back to the table he noticed that a small morocco casehad fallen among his papers. In falling it had opened, and before him,on the pale velvet lining, lay a scarf-pin set with a perfect pearl. Hepicked the box up, and was about to hasten after Mrs. Vanderlyn--itwas so like her to shed jewels on her path!--when he noticed his owninitials on the cover.
He dropped the box as if it had been a hot coal, and sat for a longwhile gazing at the gold N. L., which seemed to have burnt itself intohis flesh.
At last he roused himself and stood up.
The Glimpses of the Moon Page 9