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

Sordid Old Bourgeoisie, But When He Refused The Little _Dot_ She Would

Have Settled Upon Helene, He Knew That He Had Won Her Friendship And That

She Would Give Him No Trouble. She Was Not A Mother-In-Law To Be Ashamed

Of, For Her Manners Were Coldly Correct, Her Education In Youth Had

Evidently Been Adequate, And In Her Obese Way She Was Imposing. She Gave

Him To Understand That She Had No More Desire To Live With Her Son-In-Law

Than He With Her, And Established Herself In A Small Suite In The Palace

Hotel. After A "Lifetime" In A Provincial Town, Economizing Mercilessly,

She Felt, She Remarked In One Of Her Rare Expansive Moments, That She Had

Earned The Right To Look On At Life In A Great Hotel.

The Rainy Season She Spent In Southern California, Moving From One Large

Hotel Crowded With Eastern Visitors To Another. This Uncommon

Self-Indulgence And Her Devotion To Helene Were The Only Weak Spots

Ruyler Was Able To Discover In That Cast-Iron Character. She Seldom

Attended The Brilliant Entertainments Of Her Daughter And Refused The

Endowed Car Offered By Her Son-In-Law. Helene Married To The Best _Parti_

In San Francisco And Quite Happy, She Seemed Content To Settle Down Into

The Role Of The Onlooker At The Kaleidoscope Of Life. She Spent Eight

Hours Of The Day And Evening Seated In An Arm Chair In The Court Of The

Palace Hotel, And For Air Rode Out To The End Of The California Street

Car Line, Always On The Front Seat Of The Dummy. She Was Dubbed A "Quaint

Old Party" By Her New Acquaintances And Left To Her Own Devices. If She

Didn't Want Them They Could Jolly Well Do Without Her.

Vi

Helene's Social Success Was Immediate And Permanent. Californians Rarely

Do Things By Halves. Society Was No Exception. She Had "Walked Off" With

The Most Desirable Man In Town, But They Were Good Gamblers. When They

Lost They Paid. She Had Married Into "Their Set." They Had Accepted Her.

She Was One Of Them. No Secret Order Is More Loyal To Its Initiates.

During That First Year And A Half Of Ideal Happiness Ruyler, In What

Leisure He Could Command, Found Helene's Rapidly Expanding Mind As

Companionable As He Had Hoped; And The Girlish Dignity She Never Lost,

For All Her Naivete And Vivacity, Gratified His Pride And Compelled, Upon

Their Second Brief Visit To New York, Even The Unqualified Approval Of

His Family.

She Had Inherited All The Subtle Adaptability Of Her Father's Race,

Nothing Of The Cold And Rigid Narrowness Of Her Mother's Class. Price Had

Feared That Her Lively Mind Might Reveal Disconcerting Shallows, But

These Little Voids Were But The Divine Hiatuses Of Youth. He Sometimes

Wondered Just How Strong Her Character Was. There Were Times When She

Showed A Pronounced Inclination For The Line Of Least Resistance ... But

Her Youth ... Her Too Sheltered Bringing Up ... Those Drab Cramped

Years ... No Wonder....

He Was Glad On The Whole That His Was The Part To Mold. Nevertheless, He

Had His Inconsistencies. Unlike Many Men Of Strong Will And Driving

Purpose He Liked Strength Of Character And Pronounced Individuality In

Women; And He, Too, Had Had Fleeting Visions Of What Life Might Have Been

Had Flora Thornton Entered Life Twenty Years Later. He Had Been Quite

Sincere In Telling Her That The Young Stranger Reminded Him Of The Most

Powerful Personality He Had Met In California, And He Believed That

Within A Reasonable Time Helene Would Be As Variously Cultivated, As

Widely, If Less Erratically Developed. But Was There Any Such Insurgent

Force In Her Depths? It Was Not Within The Possibilities That At Any Time

In Her Life Flora Thornton Had Been Pliable.

A Man Had Little Time To Study His Wife In California These Days. Or At

Any Time? He Sometimes Wondered. Certainly Happy Marriages Were Rare And

Divorces Many. Fine Weather Nearly All The Year Round Played The Deuce

With Domesticity, And His Business Could Not Be Neglected For The Long

Vacation Abroad To Which They Both Had Looked Forward So Ardently.

Sometimes, Even Before This Vague Gray Mist Had Risen Between Them, He

Had Had Moments Of Wondering Whether He Knew His Wife At All. How Could A

Man Know A Woman Who Did Not Yet Know Herself? He Sighed And Wished He

Had More Time To Explore The Uncharted Seas Of A Woman's Soul.

But The Cause Of The Change In Her Was Something Far Less Picturesque,

Something Concrete And Sinister. He Felt Sure Of That....

Vii

Unless--But That Was Ridiculous! Impossible!

He Sprang To His Feet, Incredulous, Disgusted At The Mere Thought.

But Why Not? She Was Very Young, And Older And Wiser Women Were Afflicted

With Inconsistencies, Little Tenacious Desires And Vanities Never Quite

To Be Grasped By The Elemental Male.

He Went Over To A Bookcase Containing Heavy Works Of Reference And

Pressed His Index Finger Into The Molding. It Swung Outward, Revealing

The Door Of A Safe. He Manipulated The Combination, Took From A Drawer Of

The Interior A Box, Opened It And Stared At A Magnificent Burmah Ruby. It

Was Or Had Been A Royal Jewel, Presented To Masewell Price By One Of The

Great Princes Of India Whose Portrait He Had Painted. The Pearls Had All

Been Captured Long Since By Price's Sisters And By Morgan V. For His

Wife; But This Ruby His Mother Had Given Him As She Lay Dying. She Had

Bidden Him Leave It In His Father's Safe Until He Was Out Of College, And

Then Keep It As Closely In His Personal Possession As Possible. It Would

Be Turned Over To Him With The Rest Of His Private Fortune.

"Never Let Any Woman Wear It," She Had Whispered. "It Brings Luck To Men

But Not To Women. Nothing Could Have Affected My Luck One Way Or The

Other--I Was Born To Have Nothing I Wanted, But You, Dear Little Boy.

Keep It For Your Luck And In A Safe Place, But Near You."

He Had Looked Back Upon This Scene As He Grew Older As The Mere

Expression Of A Whim Of Dissolution, But It Had Made So Deep An

Impression Upon Him At The Time That Insensibly The Words Sank Into His

Plastic Mind Creating A Superstition That Refused To Yield To Reason. The

Ruby Was Helene's Birthstone And She Was Passionately Fond Of It. She Had

Begged And Coaxed To Wear This Jewel, And Upon One Occasion Had Stamped

Her Little Foot And Sulked Throughout The Evening. He Had Given Her A

Ruby Bar, Had The Clasp Of Her Pearl Necklace Set With Rabies, And Last

Christmas Had Presented Her With A Small But Fine "Pigeon Blood"

Encircled With Diamonds. These Had Enraptured Her For The Moment, But She

Had Always Circled Back To The Historic Stone, Over Which Her Indulgent

Husband Was So Unaccountably Obstinate.

Until Lately. He Recalled That For Several Months She Had Not Mentioned

It. Could She Have Been Indulging In A Prolonged Attack Of Interior

Sulks, Which Affected Her Spirits, Dimmed Her Radiant Personality? He

Abominated The Idea But Admitted The Possibility. She Would Not Be The

First Person To Be The Victim Of A Secret But Furious Passion For Jewels.

He Recalled A Novel Of Hichens; Not The Matter But The Central Idea.

Authors Of Other Races Had Used The Same Motive. Well, If His Wife Had An

Abnormal Streak In Her The Sooner He Found Out The Truth The Better.

He Closed The Door Of The Safe, Swung The Bookcase Into Place, Slipped

The Ruby With Its Curious Gold Chain That Looked Massive But Hardly

Weighed An Ounce, Into His Pocket, Rang For A Servant And Told Him To Ask

Mrs. Ruyler To Come Down To The Library As Soon As She Was Dressed.

I

Ruyler Sighed As He Heard His Wife Walk Down The Hall. There Had Been A

Time When She Came Running Like A Child At His Summons, But In These Days

She Walked With A Leisurely Dignity Which To His Possibly Morbid Ear

Betrayed A Certain Crab-Like Disposition In Her Little High Heels To Slip

Backward Along The Polished Floor.

She Came In Smiling, However, And Kissed Him Quickly And Warmly. Her

Extraordinary Hair Hung Down In Two Long Braids, Their Blue Blackness

Undulating Among The Soft Folds Of Her Thin Pink Negligee. For The First

Time Ruyler Realized That Pink Was Helene's Favorite Color; She Seldom

Wore Anything Else Except White Or Black, And Then Always Relieved With

Pink. And Why Not, With That Deep Pink Blush In Her White Cheeks, And The

Velvet Blackness Of Her Eyes? People Still Raved Over Helene Ruyler's

"Coloring," And Price Told Himself Once More As She Stood Before Him, Her

Little Head Dragged Back By The Weight Of Her Plaits, Her Slender Throat

Crossed By A Narrow Line Of Black Velvet, That He Had Married One Of The

Most Beautiful Girls He Had Ever Seen.

He Was Seized With A Sudden Sharp Pang Of Jealousy And Caught Her In His

Arms Roughly, His Gray Eyes Almost As Black As Hers.

"Tell Me," He Exclaimed, And The New Fear Almost Choked Him, "Does Any

Other Man Interest You--The Least Little Bit?"

She Stared At Him And Then Burst Into The Most Natural Laugh He Had Heard

From Her For Months. "That Is Simply Too Funny To Talk About."

"But I Am Able To Give You So Little Of My Time. Working Or Tired Out At

Night--Letting You Go Out So Much Alone--But I Haven't The Heart To

Insist That You Yawn Over A Book, While I Am Shut Up Here, Or Too Fagged

To Talk Even To You. Life Is Becoming A Tragedy For Business Men--If

They've Got It In Them To Care For Anything Else."

"Well, Don't Add To The Tragedy By Cultivating Jealousy. I've Told You

That I Am Perfectly Willing To Give Up Society And Sit Like Dora Holding

Your Pens--Or Filling Your Fountain Pen--No, You Dictate. What Chance Has

A Woman In A Business Man's Life?"

"None, Alas, Except To Look Beautiful And Be Happy. Are You That?--The

Last I Mean, Of Course!"

She Nestled Closer To Him And Laughed Again. "More So Than Ever. To Be

Frank You Have Completed My Happiness By Being Jealous. I Have Wondered

Sometimes If It Were A Compliment--Your Being So Sure Of Me."

"That's My Idea Of Love."

"Well, It's Mine, Too. But If You Want Me To Stay Home--"

"Oh, No! You Are Fond Of Society? Really, I Mean? Why Shouldn't You

Be?--A Young Thing--"

"What Else Is There? Of Course, I Should Enjoy It Much More If You Were

Always With Me. Shall We Never Have That Year In Europe Together?"

"God Knows. Something Is Wrong With The World. It Needs

Reorganizing--From The Top Down. It Is Inhuman, The Way Even Rich Men

Have To Work--To Remain Rich! But Sit Down."

He Led Her Over To A Chair Before The Window. The Storm Was Decreasing In

Violence, The Heavy Curtain Of Rain Was No Longer Tossed, But Falling In

Straight Intermittent Lines, And The Islands Were Coming To Life. Even

The High And Heavy Crest Of Mount Tamalpais Was Dimly Visible.

"It Is The Last Of The Storms, I Fancy. Spring Is Overdue," Said Price,

Who, However, Was Covertly Watching His Wife's Face. Her Color Had Faded

A Little, Her Lids Drooped Over Eyes That Stared Out At The Still

Turbulent Waters.

"I Love These San Francisco Storms," She Said Abruptly. "I Am So Glad We

Have These Few Wild Months. But Mrs. Thornton Has Worried And So Have We.

Her Fete At San Mateo Comes Off On The Fourteenth, The First

Entertainment She Has Given Since Her Return, And It Would Be Ghastly If

It Rained. It Should Be A Wonderful Sight--Those Grounds--Everybody In

Fancy Dress With Little Black Velvet Masks. Don't You Think You Can Go?"

"The Fourteenth? I'll Try To Make It. Who Are You To Be?"

"Beatrice D'este--In A Court Gown Of Black Tissue Instead Of Velvet, With

Just A Touch Of Pink--Oh, But A Wonderful Creation! I Designed It Myself.

We Are Not Bothering Too Much