The Avalanche by Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton (a court of thorns and roses ebook free .TXT) 📕

"I Have A Headache," She Said Irritably. "Perhaps I'm Developing Nerves.

I Do Wish You Would Take Me To New York. Other Women Get Away From This

Town Once In A While."

"But You Told Me On Sunday That You Adored California, That It Was Like

Fairy Land--"

"Oh, All The Women Out Here Bluff Themselves And Everybody Else Just

So Long And Then Suddenly Go To Pieces. It's A Wonderful State, But

What A Life! What A Life! Surely I Was Made For Something Better. I

Don't Wonder--"

"What?" He Asked Sharply.

"Oh, Nothing. I Feel Ungrateful, Of Course. I Really Should Be Quite

Happy. Think If I Had To Go Back To Rouen To Live--After This Taste Of

Freedom, And Beauty--For California Has All The Beauties Of Youth As Well

As Its Idiocies And Vices--"

"There Is Not The Remotest Danger Of Your Ever Being Obliged To Live In

Rouen Again--"

"Oh, I Don't Know. You Might Get Tired Of Me. We Might Fight Like Cat And

Dog For Want Of Common Interests, Of Something To Talk About. You Would

Never Take To Drink Like So Many Of The Men, But I Might--Well, I'm Glad

Dinner Is Ready At Last."

But She Played With Her Food. That She Was Repressing An Intense And

Mounting Excitement Ruyler Did Not Doubt, And He Also Suspected That She

Wished To Broach Some Particular Subject From Which She Turned In Panic.

They Were Alone After Coffee Had Been Served, And He Said Abruptly:

"What Is It, Helene? Do You Want Money? I Have An Idea That Polly Roberts

And Aileen Lawton Borrow Heavily From You, And That They May Have Cleaned

You Out Completely On The First--"

"How Dear Of You To Guess--Or Rather To Get So Close. It's Worse Than

That. I--That Is--Well--Poor Polly Went Quite Mad Over A Pearl Necklace

At Shreve's And They Told Her To Take It And Wear It For A Few Days,

Thinking, I Suppose, She Would Never Give It Up And Would Get The Money

Somehow. She--Oh, It's Too Dreadful--She Lost It--And She Dares Not Tell

Rex--He's Lost Quite A Lot Of Money Lately--And She's Mad With

Fright--And I Told Her--"

"Where Did She Lose It? It's Not Easy To Lose A Necklace, Especially When

The Clasp Is New."

"She Thinks It Was Stolen From Her Neck At The Theater--You Heard What

That Man Said."

"Ah! What Was The Price Of The Necklace?"

"Twenty Thousand Dollars. The Pearls Weren't So Very Large, Of Course,

But Polly Never Had Had A Pearl Necklace--"

"I'll Let Her Have The Money To Pay For It On One Condition--That It Is A

Transaction, Between Roberts And Myself--"

"No! No! Not For Anything!"

"I've Lent Him Money Before--"

"But He'd Never Forgive Polly. He--He's One Of Those Men Who Make An

Awful Fuss On The First Of Every Month When His Wife's Bills Come In."

"There Must Be A Bass Chorus On The First Of Every Month In San

Francisco--"

"Oh, Please Don't Jest. She Must Have This Money."

"She May Have It--On Those Terms. I'll Have No Business Dealings With

Women Of The Polly Roberts Sort. That Would Be The Last I'd Ever See Of

The Twenty Thousand--"

"I Never Thought You Were Stingy!"

Ruyler, In Spite Of His Tearing Anxiety, Laughed Outright. "Is That Your

Idea Of How The Indulgent American Husband Becomes Rich?"

"Oh--Of Course I Wouldn't Have You Lose Such A Sum. I Really Have Learned

The Value Of Money In The Abstract, Although I Can't Care For It As Much

As Men Do."

"I Have No Great Love Of Money, But There Is A Certain Difference Between

A Miser And A Levelheaded Business Man--"

"Price, I Must Have That Money. Polly--Oh, I Am Afraid She Will

Kill Herself!"

"Not She. A More Selfish Little Beast Never Breathed. She'll Squeeze The

Money Out Of Some One, Never Fear! But I Think I'll Lock Up Your Jewels

In Case You Are Tempted To Raise Money On Them For Her--Darling!"

Helene, Without A Sound, Had Fainted.

They Had Intended To Go To The Theater But Ruyler Put Her To Bed At

Once. He Offered To Read To Her, But She Turned Her Back On Him With

Cold Disdain, And He Went To The Little Invisible Cupboard Where She

Kept Her Own Jewels And Took Out The Heavy Gold Box Which Had Been The

Wedding Present Of One Of His California Business Friends Who Owned A

Quartz Mine.

"I Shall Put This In The Safe," He Said Incisively, "For, While I Admire

Your Stanchness In Friendship, Even For Such An Unworthy Object As Polly

Roberts, I Do Not Propose That My Wife Shall Be Selling Or Pawning Her

Jewels For Any Reason Whatever. Think Over The Proposal I Made

Downstairs. If Polly Is Willing I'll Lend Roberts The Money To-Morrow."

She Had Thrown An Arm Over Her Face And She Made No Reply. He Went Down

Stairs And Put The Box In The Safe. It Occurred To Him That She Had

Watched Him Open And Close The Safe Several Times But She Certainly Never

Had Written The Combination Down, And It Had Taken Him A Long While To

Commit It To Memory Himself.

He Had Glanced Over The Contents Of The Box Before He Locked It In. The

Jewels Were All There, The String Of Pearls That He Had Given Her On

Their Marriage Day, A Few Wedding Presents, And Several Rings And

Trinkets He Had Bought For Her Since. The Value Was Perhaps Twenty

Thousand Dollars, For He Had Told Her That She Must Wait Several Years

Before He Could Give Her The Jewels Of A Great Lady. When She Was Thirty,

And Really Needed Them To Make Up For Fading Charms--It Had Been One Of

Their Pleasant Little Jokes.

As Ruyler Set The Combination He Sighed And Wondered Whether Their Days

Of Joking Were Over. Their Life Had Suddenly Shot Out Of Focus And It

Would Require All His Ingenuity And Patience, Aided By Friendly

Circumstance, To Swing It Into Line Again. He Did Not Believe A Word Of

The Necklace Story. Somebody Was Blackmailing The Poor Child. If He Could

Only Find Out Who! He Made Up His Mind Suddenly To Put This Problem Also

In The Hands Of Spaulding For Solution. The Question Of His

Mother-In-Law's Antecedents Was Important Enough, But That Of His Wife's

Happiness And His Own Was Paramount.

He Decided To Go To The Theater Himself, For He Was In No Condition For

Sleep Or The Society Of Men At The Club, Nor Could Any Book Hold His

Attention. He Prayed That The Play Would Be Reasonably Diverting.

He Walked Down Town And As He Entered The Lobby Of The Columbia At The

Close Of The First Act He Saw 'Gene Bisbee And D.V. Bimmer, Who Was Now

Managing A Hotel In San Francisco, Standing Together. He Also Saw Bisbee

Nudge Bimmer, And They Both Stared At Him Openly, The Famous Hotel Man

With Some Sympathy In His Wise Secretive Eyes, The Reformed Peer Of The

Underworld With A Certain Speculative Contempt.

Ruyler, To His Intense Irritation, Felt Himself Flushing, And Wondered If

The Man's Regard Might Be Translated: "Just How Much Shall I Be Able To

Touch Him For?" He Wished He Would Show His Hand And Dissipate The

Damnable Web Of Mystery Which Fate Seemed Weaving Hourly Out Of Her

Bloated Pouch, But He Doubted If Bisbee, Or Whoever It Was That Tormented

His Wife, Would Approach Him Save As A Last Resource. They Were Clever

Enough To Know That Her Keenest Desire Would Be To Keep The Disgraceful

Past From The Knowledge Of Her Husband, Rather Than From A Society

Seasoned These Many Years To Erubescent Pasts.

Moreover It Is Always Easier To Blackmail A Woman Than A Man, And Price

Ruyler Could Not Have Looked An Easy Mark To The Most Optimistic Of

Social Brigands.

He Found It Impossible To Fix His Mind On The Play; The Cues Of The First

Act Eluded Him, And The Characters And Dialogue Were Too Commonplace To

Make The Story Negligible.

At The End Of The Second Act Ruyler Made Up His Mind To Go Home And Try

To Coax His Wife Back Into Her Customary Good Temper, Pet Her And Make

Her Forget Her Little Tragedy. He Still Hesitated To Broach The Subject

To Her Directly, But It Was Possible That By Some Diplomatically

Analogous Tale He Could Surprise Her Into Telling Him The Truth.

During The Long Drive He Turned Over In His Mind The Data Spaulding Had

Placed Before Him During The Afternoon. He Rejected The Theory That

Madame Delano Was Mrs. Lawton As Utterly Fantastic, But Admitted A

Connection. Helene Had Spoken More Than Once Of Mrs. Lawton's Kindness To

"Maman" When Her Baby Was Born During Her "Enforced Stay In San

Francisco," And It Was Quite Possible That The Two Had Been Friends, And

That The Young Mother Had Adopted The Name Of Dubois When Calling Upon

The Nuns Of The Convent At St. Peter, Either Because It Would Naturally

Occur To Her, Or From Some Deeper Design Which, He Could Not Fathom....

Yes, The Connection With Mrs. Lawton Was Indisputable And It Remained For

Him To "Figger Out" As Spaulding Would Say, Which Of These Women, The

Gambler's Wife, The Notorious "Madam," Gabrielle, The Briefly Coruscating

Pauline Marie, Or The Englishman's Mistress, A Woman Of Mrs. Lawton's

Position Would Be Most Likely To Befriend.

The First Three Might Be Dismissed Without Argument. She Had Been No

Frequenter Of "Gambling Joints" Whatever Her Peccadilloes; Gabrielle,

He Happened To Know, Had Died Some Eight Or Ten Years Ago, And

Mademoiselle Pauline Marie, If She Had Had A Child, Which Was Extremely

Doubtful, Was The Sort That Sends Unwelcome Offspring Post Haste To The

Foundling Asylum.

There Remained Only The Spurious Mrs. Medford, And She Was The

Probability On All Counts. What More Likely Than That She And Mrs. Lawton

Had Met At One Of The Great Winter Hotels In Southern California, And

Foregathered? Certainly They Would Be Congenial Spirits.

When The Baby Came Mrs. Lawton Would Naturally See Her Through Her

Trouble, And Advise Her Later What To Do With The Child. No Doubt,

Medford Found It In The Way.

After That Ruyler Could Only Fumble. Did Medford Desert The Woman,

Driving Her On The Stage?--Or Elsewhere? Did They Start For Japan, And

Did He Die On The Voyage? Did He Merely Give The Woman A Pension And Tell

Her To Go Back To Rouen, Or To The Devil? It Was Positive That When

Helene Was Five Years Old Madame Delano Had Gone Back To Her Relatives

With Some Trumped Up Story And Been Received By Them.

Moreover, This Theory Coincided With, His Belief That Helene's Father

Was A Gentleman. No Doubt He Had Been Already Married When He Met The

Young French Girl, Superbly Handsome, And Intelligent--Possibly At One

Of The French Watering Places, Even In Rouen Itself, Swarming With

Tourists In Summer. They Might Have Met In The Spacious Aisles Of The

Cathedral, She Risen From Her Prayers, He Wandering About, Baedeker In

Hand, And Fallen In Love At Sight. One Of Earth's Million Romances,

Regenerating The Aged Planet For A Moment, Only To Sink Back And

Disappear Into Her Forgotten Dust.

His Own Romance? What Was To Be The End Of That!

But He Returned To His Argument. He Wanted A Coherent Story To Tell His

Wife, And He Wanted Also To Believe That His Wife's Father Had Been A

Gentleman.

Medford, Like So Many Of His Eloping Kind, Had Made Instinctively For

California With The Beautiful Woman He Loved But Could Not Marry. Santa

Barbara, Ruyler Had Heard, Had Been The Favorite Haven For Two

Generations Of Couples Fleeing From Irking Bonds In The Societies Of

England And The Continent Of Europe. Southern California Combined A Wild

Independence With A Languor That Blunted Too Sensitive Nerves, Offered An

Equable Climate With Months On End Of Out Of Door Life, Boating,

Shooting, Riding, Driving, Motoring, Romantic Excursions, And Even Sport

If A Distinguished Looking Couple Played The Game Well And Told A

Plausible Story.

Breeding Was A Part Of Ruyler's Religion, As Component In His Code As

Honor, Patriotism, Loyalty, Or The Obligation Of The