CHAPTER XXV
RENUNCIATION
On the third day after the singular trial of Hetty Castleton inSara's library, young Mrs. Wrandall's motor drew up in front ofa lofty office building in lower Broadway; its owner stepped downfrom the limousine and entered the building. A few moments latershe walked briskly into the splendid offices of Wrandall & Co.,private bankers and steamship-owners. The clerks in the outeroffices stared for a moment in significant surprise, and then bowedrespectfully to the beautiful silent partner in the great concern.
It was the first time she had been seen in the offices since thetragic event that had served to make her a member of the firm. Aboy at the information desk, somewhat impressed by her beauty andthe trim elegance of her long black broad-tail coat, to say nothingof the dark eyes that shone through the narrow veil, forgot thedignity of his office and went so far as to politely ask her whoshe wanted to see and "what name, please."
The senior clerk rushed forward and transfixed the new boy with aglare.
"A new boy, Mrs. Wrandall," he made haste to explain. To the newboy's surprise, the visitor was conducted with much bowing andscraping into the private offices, where no one ventured except byspecial edict of the powers.
"Who was it?" he asked, in some awe, of a veteran stenographer whocame up and sneered at him.
"Mrs. Challis Wrandall, you little simpleton," said she, and foronce he failed to snap back.
It is of record that for nearly two whole days, he was polite toevery visitor who approached him and was generally worth his salt.
Sara found herself in the close little room that once had been herhusband's, but was now scrupulously held in reserve for her own use.Rather a waste of space, she felt as she looked about the office.The clerk dusted an easy chair and threw open the long unused desknear the window.
"We are very glad to see you here, madam," he said. "This roomhasn't been used much, as you may observe. Is there anything I cando for you?"
She continued her critical survey of the room. Nothing had beenchanged since the days when she used to visit her husband here onoccasions of rare social importance: such as calling to take him outto luncheon, or to see that he got safely home on rainy afternoons.The big picture of a steamship still hung on the wall across theroom. Her own photograph, in a silver frame, stood in one of therecesses of the desk. She observed that there was a clean whiteblotter there, too; but the ink wells appeared to be empty, ifshe was to judge by the look of chagrin on the clerk's face as heinspected them. Photographs of polo scenes in which Wrandall was aprominent figure, hung about the walls, with two or three picturesof his favourite ponies, and one of a ragged gipsy girl withwonderful eyes, carrying a monkey in a crude wooden cage strappedto her back. On closer observation one would have recognised Sara'speculiarly gipsy-like features in the face of the girl, and thenone would have noticed the caption written in red ink at the bottomof the photograph: "The Trumbell's Fancy Dress Ball, January 10,'07. Sara as Gipsy Mab."
With a start, Sara came out of her painful reverie. She passed herhand over her eyes, and seemed thereby to put the polite seniorclerk back into the picture once more.
"No, thank you. Is Mr. Redmond Wrandall down this afternoon?"
"He came in not ten minutes ago. Mr. Leslie Wrandall is also here.Shall I tell Mr. Wrandall you wish to see him?"
"You may tell him, that I am here, if you please," she said.
"I am very sorry about the ink wells, madam," murmured the clerk."We--we were not expecting--"
"Pray don't let it disturb you, Mr. Bancroft. I shall not use themto-day."
"They will be properly filled by to-morrow."
"Thank you."
He disappeared. She relaxed in the familiar, comfortable oldleather-cushioned chair, and closed her eyes. There was a sharplittle line between them, but it was hidden by the veil.
The door opened slowly and Redmond Wrandall came into the room.She arose at once.
"This is--er--an unexpected pleasure, Sara," he said, perplexed andill-at-ease. He stopped just inside the door he had been carefulto close behind him, and did not offer her his hand.
"I came down to attend to some business, Mr. Wrandall," she said.
"Business?" he repeated, staring.
She took note of the tired, haggard look in his eyes, and thetightly compressed lips.
"I intend to dispose of my entire interest in Wrandall & Co.," sheannounced calmly.
He took a step forward, plainly startled by the declaration.
"What's this?" he demanded sharply.
"We may as well speak plainly, Mr. Wrandall," she said. "You donot care to have me remain a member of the firm, nor do I blameyou for feeling as you do about it. A year ago you offered to buyme out--or off, as I took it to be at the time. I had reasons thenfor not selling out to you. To-day I am ready either to buy or tosell."
"You--you amaze me," he exclaimed.
"Does your offer of last December still stand?"
"I--I think we would better have Leslie in, Sara. This is mostunexpected. I don't quite feel up to--"
"Have Leslie in by all means," she said, resuming her seat.
He hesitated a moment, opened his lips as if to speak, and thenabruptly left the room.
Sara smiled.
Many minutes passed before the two Wrandalls put in an appearance.She understood the delay. They were telephoning to certain legaladvisers.
"What's this I hear, Sara?" demanded Leslie, extending his handafter a second's hesitation.
She shook hands with him, not listlessly but with the vigour bornof nervousness.
"I don't know what you've heard," she said pointedly.
His slim fingers went searching for the end of his moustache.
"Why,--why, about selling out to us," he stammered.
"I am willing to retire from the firm of Wrandall & Co.," she said.
"Father says the business is as good as it was a year ago, but Idon't agree with him," said the son, trying to look lugubrious.
"Then you don't care to repeat your original proposition?"
"Well, the way business has been falling off--"
"Perhaps you would prefer to sell out to me," she remarked quietly.
"Not at all!" he said quickly, with a surprised glance at hisfather. "We couldn't think of letting the business pass out of theWrandall name."
"You forget that MY name is Wrandall," she rejoined. "There wouldbe no occasion to change the firm's name; merely its membership."
"Our original offer stands," said the senior Wrandall stiffly. "Weprefer to buy."
"And I to sell. Mr. Carroll will meet you to-morrow, gentlemen. Hewill represent me as usual. Our business as well as social relationsare about to end, I suppose. My only regret is that I cannot furtheraccommodate you by changing my name. Still you may live in hopethat time may work even that wonder for you."
She arose. The two men regarded her in an aggrieved way for amoment.
"I have no real feeling of hostility toward you, Sara," said Leslienervously, "in spite of all that you said the other night."
"I am afraid you don't mean that, deep down in your heart, Leslie,"she said, with a queer little smile.
"But I do," he protested. "Hang it all, we--we live in a glass houseourselves, Sara. I dare say, in a way, I was quite as unpleasantas the rest of the family. You see, we just can't help being snobs.It's in us, that's all there is to it."
Mr. Wrandall looked up from the floor, his gaze having dropped atthe first outburst from his son's lips.
"We--we prefer to be friendly, Sara, if you will allow us--"
She laughed and the old gentleman stopped in the middle of hissentence.
"We can't be friends, Mr. Wrandall," she said, suddenly serious."The pretence would be a mockery. We are all better off if we allowour paths, our interests to diverge to-day."
"Perhaps you are right," said he, compressing his lips.
"I believe that Vivian and I could--but no! I won't go so far as
to say that either. There is something genuine about her. Strangeto say, I have never disliked her."
"If you had made the slightest effort to like us, no doubt we couldhave--"
"My dear Mr. Wrandall," she interrupted quickly, "I credit YOUwith the desire to be fair and just to me. You have tried to likeme. You have even deceived yourself at times. I--but why thesegentle recriminations? We merely prolong an unfortunate contestbetween antagonistic natures, with no hope of genuine peace beingestablished. I do not regret that I am your daughter-in-law, nor doI believe that you would regret it if I had not been the daughterof Sebastian Gooch."
"Your father was as little impressed with my son as I was with hisdaughter," said Redmond Wrandall drily. "I am forced to confessthat he was the better judge. We had the better of the bargain."
"I believe you mean it, Mr. Wrandall," she said, a note of gratitudein her voice. "Good-bye. Mr. Carroll will see you to-morrow." Sheglanced quickly about the room. "I shall send for--for certainarticles that are no longer required in conducting the business ofWrandall & Co."
With a quaint little smile, she indicated the two photographs ofherself.
"By Jove, Sara," burst out Leslie abruptly. "I wish you'd let MEhave that Gipsy Mab picture. I've always been dotty over it, don'tyou know. Ripping study."
Her lip curled slightly.
"As a matter of fact," he explained conclusively, "Chal often saidhe'd leave it to me when he died. In a joking way, of course, butI'm sure he meant it."
"You may have it, Leslie," she said slowly. It is doubtful if hecorrectly interpreted the movement of her head as she uttered thewords.
"Thanks," said he. "I'll hang it in my den, if you don't object."
"We shall expect Mr. Carroll to-morrow, Sara," said his father,with an air of finality. "Good-bye. May I ask what plans you aremaking for the winter?"
"They are very indefinite."
"I say, Sara, why don't you get married?" asked Leslie, surveyingthe Gipsy Mab photograph with undisguised admiration as he held itat arm's length. "Ripping!" This to the picture.
She paused near the door to stare at him for a moment, unutterablescorn in her eyes.
"I've had a notion you were pretty keen about Brandy Booth," hewent on amiably.
She caught her breath. There was an instant's hesitation on herpart before she replied.
"You have never been very smart at making love guesses, Leslie,"she said. "It's a trick you haven't acquired."
He laughed uncomfortably. "Neat stroke, that."
Following her into the corridor outside the offices, he pushed theelevator bell for her.
"I meant what I said, Sara," he remarked, somewhat doggedly. "Youought to get married. Chal didn't leave much for you to cherish.There's no reason why you should go on like this, living alone andall that sort of thing. You're young and beautiful and--"
"Oh, thank you, Leslie," she cried out sharply.
"You see, it's going to be this way: Hetty will probably marry Booth.That's on dit, I take it. You're depending on her for companionship.Well, she'll quit you cold after she's married. She will--"
She interrupted him peremptorily.
"If Challis did nothing else for me, Leslie, he at least gave meyou to cherish. Once more, good-bye."
The elevator stopped for her. He strolled back to his office witha puzzled frown on his face. She certainly was inexplicable!
The angry red faded from her cheeks as she sped homeward in theautomobile. Her thoughts were no longer of Leslie but of another...She sighed and closed her eyes, and her cheeks were pale.
Workmen from a picture dealer's establishment were engaged in hanginga full length portrait in the long living-room of her apartment whenshe reached home. She had sent to the country for Booth's pictureof Hetty, and was having it hung in a conspicuous place. For along time she stood in the middle of the room, studying the canvas.Hetty's Irish blue eyes seemed to return the scrutiny, a questioninglook in their painted depths. The warm, half smiling lips appearedto be on the point of putting into words the eager question thatlay in her wondering eyes.
Passing the open library door, Sara paused for an instant to peerwithin. Then she went on down the hall to her own sitting-room.The canary was singing glibly in his cage by the window-side.
She threw aside her furs, and, without removing her hat, passedinto the bed-chamber at the left of the cosy little boudoir. Thiswas Hetty's room. Her own was directly opposite. On the girl'sdressing-table, leaning against the broad, low mirror, stoodthe unframed photograph of a man. With a furtive glance over hershoulder, Sara crossed to the table and took up the picture in hergloved hand. For a long time she stood there gazing into the frank,good-looking face of Brandon Booth. She breathed faster; her handshook; her eyes were strained as if by an inward suggestion ofpain.
She shook her head slowly, as if in final renunciation of a secrethope or the banishment of an unwelcome desire, and resolutelyreplaced the photograph. Her lips were almost white as she turnedaway and re-entered the room beyond.
"He belongs to her," she said, unconsciously speaking aloud; "andhe is like all men. She must not be unhappy."
Presently she entered the library. She had exchanged her tailor-suitfor a dainty house-gown. Hetty was still seated in the big loungingchair, before the snapping fire, apparently not having moved sinceshe looked in on passing a quarter of an hour before. One of thegirl's legs was curled up under her, the other swung loose; an elbowrested on the arm of the chair, and her cheek was in her hand.
Coming softly up from behind, Sara leaned over the back of thechair and put her hands under her friend's chin, tenderly, lovingly.Hetty started and shivered.
"Oh, Sara, how cold your hands are!"
She grasped them in her own and fondly stroked them, as if torestore warmth to the long, slim fingers which gave the lie to Mrs.Coburn's declarations.
"I've been thinking all morning of what you and Brandon proposed tome last night, dear," said Sara, looking straight over the girl'shead, the dark, languorous, mysterious glow filling her eyes. "Itis good of you both to want me, but--"
"Now don't say 'but,' Sara," cried Hetty. "We mean it, and you mustlet us have our way."
"It would be splendid to be near you all the time, dear; it wouldbe wonderful to live with you as you so generously propose, but Icannot do it. I must decline."
"And may I ask why you decline to live with me?" demanded Hettyresentfully.
"Because I love you so dearly," said Sara.
THE END
The Hollow of Her Hand Page 25