Read Online Edith Wharton - SSC 09 by Human Nature (v2.1) - Free Book Online
Authors: Human Nature (v2.1)
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of platinum. She caught my glance. “You’re admiring
my brown diamond? A beauty, isn’t it? Dear Catherine gave it to me for
Christmas. The angel! Do you suppose I wouldn’t do anything to spare her all
this misery? I wish I could tell you why Stephen left her. Perhaps … perhaps
because she is such an angel … Young
men—you understand? She was always wrapping him up, lying awake to listen for
his latch-key…. Steve’s rather a Bohemian; suddenly he struck—that’s all I
know.”
I
saw at once that this contained a shred of truth wrapped round an impenetrable
lie; and I saw also that to tell that lie had not been Mrs. Brown’s main
object. She had come for a still deeper reason, and I could only wait for her
to reveal it.
She
glanced up reproachfully. “How hard you are on me—always! From the very first
day—don’t I know? And never more than now. Don’t you
suppose I can guess what you’re thinking? You’re accusing me of trying to
prevent your seeing Catherine; and in reality I came here to ask you to see
her—to beg you to—as soon as she’s well enough. If you’d only trusted me,
instead of persuading her to slip off on the sly and come here in this awful
weather …”
It
was on the tip of my tongue to declare that I was guiltless of such perfidy;
but it occurred to me that my visitor might be trying to find out how Mrs. Glenn
had known I was in Paris, and I decided to say nothing.
“At
any rate, if she’s no worse I’m sure she could see you tomorrow. Why not come
and dine? I’ll carry Boy off to a restaurant, and you and she can have a cosy
evening together, like old times. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Mrs. Brown’s
face was veiled with a retrospective emotion; I saw that, less acute than
Stephen, she still believed in a sentimental past between myself and Catherine Glenn. “She must have been one of the loveliest creatures that
ever lived—wasn’t she? Even now no one can come up to her. You don’t know how I
wish she liked me better; that she had more confidence in me. If she had, she’d
know that I love Stephen as much as she does—perhaps more. For so many years he
was mine, all mine ! But it’s all so difficult—at this
moment, for instance …” She paused, jerked her silver fox back into place, and
gave me a prolonged view of meditative lashes. At last she said: “Perhaps you
don’t know that Steve’s final folly has been to refuse his allowance. He
returned the last cheque to Catherine with a dreadful letter.”
“Dreadful? How?”
“Telling
her he was old enough to shift for himself—that he refused to sell his
independence any longer; perfect madness.”
“Atrocious
cruelty—”
“Yes;
that too. I told him so. But do you realise the result?” The lashes, suddenly
lifted, gave me the full appeal of wide, transparent eyes. “Steve’s
starving—voluntarily starving himself. Or would be, if Boy and I hadn’t scraped
together our last pennies …”
“If
independence is what he wants, why should he take your pennies when he won’t
take his mother’s?”
“Ah—there’s
the point. He will.” She looked down again, fretting her rings. “Ill as he is,
how could he live if he didn’t take somebody’s pennies? If I could sell my
brown diamond without Catherine’s missing it I’d have done it long ago, and you
need never have known of all this. But she’s so sensitive—and she notices
everything. She literally spies on me. I’m at my wits’ end. If
you’d only help me!”
“How
in the world can I?”
“You’re
the only person who can. If you’d persuade her, as long as this queer mood of
Stephen’s lasts, to draw his monthly cheque in my name,
my brown diamond? A beauty, isn’t it? Dear Catherine gave it to me for
Christmas. The angel! Do you suppose I wouldn’t do anything to spare her all
this misery? I wish I could tell you why Stephen left her. Perhaps … perhaps
because she is such an angel … Young
men—you understand? She was always wrapping him up, lying awake to listen for
his latch-key…. Steve’s rather a Bohemian; suddenly he struck—that’s all I
know.”
I
saw at once that this contained a shred of truth wrapped round an impenetrable
lie; and I saw also that to tell that lie had not been Mrs. Brown’s main
object. She had come for a still deeper reason, and I could only wait for her
to reveal it.
She
glanced up reproachfully. “How hard you are on me—always! From the very first
day—don’t I know? And never more than now. Don’t you
suppose I can guess what you’re thinking? You’re accusing me of trying to
prevent your seeing Catherine; and in reality I came here to ask you to see
her—to beg you to—as soon as she’s well enough. If you’d only trusted me,
instead of persuading her to slip off on the sly and come here in this awful
weather …”
It
was on the tip of my tongue to declare that I was guiltless of such perfidy;
but it occurred to me that my visitor might be trying to find out how Mrs. Glenn
had known I was in Paris, and I decided to say nothing.
“At
any rate, if she’s no worse I’m sure she could see you tomorrow. Why not come
and dine? I’ll carry Boy off to a restaurant, and you and she can have a cosy
evening together, like old times. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Mrs. Brown’s
face was veiled with a retrospective emotion; I saw that, less acute than
Stephen, she still believed in a sentimental past between myself and Catherine Glenn. “She must have been one of the loveliest creatures that
ever lived—wasn’t she? Even now no one can come up to her. You don’t know how I
wish she liked me better; that she had more confidence in me. If she had, she’d
know that I love Stephen as much as she does—perhaps more. For so many years he
was mine, all mine ! But it’s all so difficult—at this
moment, for instance …” She paused, jerked her silver fox back into place, and
gave me a prolonged view of meditative lashes. At last she said: “Perhaps you
don’t know that Steve’s final folly has been to refuse his allowance. He
returned the last cheque to Catherine with a dreadful letter.”
“Dreadful? How?”
“Telling
her he was old enough to shift for himself—that he refused to sell his
independence any longer; perfect madness.”
“Atrocious
cruelty—”
“Yes;
that too. I told him so. But do you realise the result?” The lashes, suddenly
lifted, gave me the full appeal of wide, transparent eyes. “Steve’s
starving—voluntarily starving himself. Or would be, if Boy and I hadn’t scraped
together our last pennies …”
“If
independence is what he wants, why should he take your pennies when he won’t
take his mother’s?”
“Ah—there’s
the point. He will.” She looked down again, fretting her rings. “Ill as he is,
how could he live if he didn’t take somebody’s pennies? If I could sell my
brown diamond without Catherine’s missing it I’d have done it long ago, and you
need never have known of all this. But she’s so sensitive—and she notices
everything. She literally spies on me. I’m at my wits’ end. If
you’d only help me!”
“How
in the world can I?”
“You’re
the only person who can. If you’d persuade her, as long as this queer mood of
Stephen’s lasts, to draw his monthly cheque in my name,
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