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

"Why Not? I Shall Be There To Mount Guard. You Shall Always Wear It When

I Am Able To Go Out With You."

She Lifted Her Radiant Face, Although It Remained Subtly Immobile With A

New And Almost Formal Self-Possession. "I Am Even More Delighted Than I

Was Yesterday, For At The Fete There Will Be So Much Novelty To Distract

Attention. You Always Think Of The Nicest Possible Things."

When They Were In The Taxi He Put His Arm About Her.

"I Wonder," He Began Gropingly, "If You Would Mind Not Going Out When I

Cannot Go With You? I'll Go As Often As I Can Manage. There Are

Reasons--"

He Felt Her Light Body Grow Rigid. "Reasons? You Told Me Only

Yesterday--"

"I Know. But I Have Been Thinking It Over. That Is Rather A Fast Lot You

Run With. I Know, Of Course, They Are F.F.C.'S, And All The Rest Of It,

But If I Ever Drove Up To The Club House In Burlingame In The Morning And

Saw You Sitting On The Veranda Smoking And Drinking Gin Fizzes--"

"You Never Will! I Could Not Swallow A Gin Fizz, Or Any Nasty Mixed

Drink. And Although I Have Had My Cigarette After Meals Ever Since I Was

Fifteen, I Never Smoke In Public."

"I Confess I Cannot See You In The Picture That Rose For Some Perverse

Reason In My Mind; But--Well, You Really Are Too Young To Go About So

Much Without Your Husband--"

"I Am Always Chaperoned To The Large Affairs. Mrs. Gwynne Takes Me To The

Fairmont To-Night."

"I Know. But Scandal Is Bred In The Marrow Of San Francisco. Its Social

History Is Founded Upon It, And It Is Almost A Matter Of Principle To

Replace Decaying Props. Do You Mind So Much Not Going About Unless I Can

Be With You?"

"No, Of Course Not." Her Voice Was Sweet And Submissive, But Her Body Did

Not Relax. She Added Graciously: "After All, There Are So Many Luncheons,

And We Often Dance In The Afternoon."

He Had Not Thought Of That! What Avail To Guard Her Merely In The

Evening? It Was Not Her Life That Was In Danger....

And He Seemed As Immeasurably Far From Obtaining Her Confidence As

Before. He Had Always Understood That The Ways Of Matrimonial Diplomacy

Were Strewn With Pitfalls And Wished That Some One Had Opened A School

For Married Men Before His Time.

He Made Another Clumsy Attempt. The Cab Was Swift And Had Almost Covered

The Long Distance Between The Western Addition And Russian Hill. "Other

Things Have Worried Me. You Are So Generous. Society Here As Elsewhere

Has Its Parasites, Its Dead Beats, Trying To Limp Along By Borrowing,

Gambling, 'Amusing,' Doing Dirty Work Of Various Sorts. It Has Worried Me

Lest One Or More Of These Creatures May Have Tried To Impose On You With

Hard Luck Tales--Borrow--"

She Laughed Hysterically. "Price, You Are Too Funny! I Do Lend

Occasionally--To The Girls, When Their Allowance Runs Out Before The

First Of The Month; But I Don't Know Any Dead Beats."

He Plunged Desperately. "Your Mother's Voice Sounded Rather Agitated For

Her. Of Course I Did Not Stop To Listen, But It Occurred To Me That She

May Have Been Gambling In Stocks, Or Have Got Into Some Bad Land Deal.

She Is So Confoundedly Close-Mouthed--If She Wants Money Send Her To Me."

Helene Sat Very Straight. Her Little Aquiline Profile Against The Passing

Street Lights Was As Aloof As Imperial Features On An Ancient Coin.

"Really, Price, I Don't Think You Can Be As Busy As You Pretend If You

Have Time To Indulge In Such Flights Of Imagination. Maman Has Never

Tried To Borrow A Penny Of Me, And She Is The Last Person On Earth To

Gamble In Stocks Or Any Thing Else. Or To Buy Land Except On Expert

Advice. I Think She Has Given Up That Idea, Anyhow. She Said This Evening

She Thought It Was Time For Her To Visit Our People In Rouen."

"Oh, She Did! Helene, I Must Tell You Frankly That I Heard Her Reproach

You For Having Broken A Promise, And She Spoke With Deep Feeling."

It Was Possible That The Roman Profile Turned White, But In The Dusk Of

The Car He Could Not Be Sure. His Wife, However, Merely Shrugged Her

Shoulders And Replied Calmly:

"My Dear Price, If That Has Worried You, Why Didn't You Say So At Once? I

Am Rather Ashamed To Tell You, All The Same. Maman Has Been At Me Lately

To Persuade You To Let Her Have The Ruby For A Week. She Is Dreadfully

Superstitious, Poor Maman, And Is Convinced It Would Bring Her Some

Tremendous Good Fortune--"

"I Have Never Met A Woman Who, I Could Swear, Was Freer From

Superstition--"

Price Closed His Lips Angrily. Of What Use To Tax Her Feminine Defenses

Further? He Had Known Her Long Enough To Be Sure She Would Rather Tell

The Truth Than Lie. It Was Evident That She Had No Intention Of Lowering

Her Barriers, And He Must Play The Game From The Other End: Get The Proof

He Needed And Engineer His Mother-In-Law Out Of The United States.

Some Time, However, He Would Have It Out With His Wife. Being A Business

Man And Always Alert To Outwit The Other Man, He Wanted Neither Intrigue

Nor Mystery In His Home, But A Serene Happiness Founded Upon Perfect

Confidence. He Found It Impossible To Remain Appalled Or Angry At His

Wife's Readiness Of Resource In Guarding A Family Secret That Must Have

Shocked The Youth In Her Almost Out Of Existence.

He Patted Her Hand, And Felt Its Chill Within The Glove.

"It Was Like You Never To Have Mentioned It," He Murmured. "For, Of

Course, It Is Quite Impossible."

"That Is What I Told Her Decidedly To-Night, And I Do Not Think She Will

Ask Again. It Hurts Me To Refuse Dear Maman Anything. Her Devotion To Me

Has Been Wonderful--But Wonderful," She Added On A Defiant Note.

"A Mother's Devotion, Particularly To A Girl Of Your Sort, Does Not Make

Any Call Upon My Exclamation Points. But Here We Are."

       *       *       *       *       *

The Car Rolled Up The Graded Driveway Gwynne Had Built For The Old San

Francisco House That Before His Day Had Been Approached By An Almost

Perpendicular Flight Of Wooden Steps. They Were Late And The Company

Had Assembled: The Thorntons, Trennahans, And Eight Or Ten Young

People, All Of Whom Would Be Chaperoned By The Married Women To The

Dance At The Fairmont.

Russian Hill Had Escaped The Fire, But Nob Hill Had Been Burnt Down To

Its Bones, And The Thorntons And Trennahans Had Not Rebuilt, Preferring,

Like Many Others, To Live The Year Round In Their Country Homes And Use

The Hotels In Winter.

The Moment Helene Entered The Drawing-Room It Was Evident That The Ruby

Was To Make As Great A Sensation As The Soul Of Woman Could Desire. Even

The Older People Flocked About Her And The Girls Were Frank And Shrill In

Their Astonishment And Rapture.

"Helene! Darling! The Duckiest Thing--I Never Saw Anything So Perfectly

Dandy And Wonderful! I'd Go Simply Mad! Do, Just Let Me Touch It! I

Could Eat It!"

Mrs. Thornton, Who At Any Time Scorned To Conceal Envy, Or Pretend

Indifference, Looked At The Great Burning Stone With A Sigh And Turned To

Her Husband.

"Why Didn't You Manage To Get It For Me?" She Demanded. "It Would Be Far

More Suitable--A Magnificent Stone Like That!--On Me Than On That Baby."

"My Darling," Murmured Ford Anxiously, "I Never Laid Eyes On The Thing

Before, Or On One Like It. I'll Find Out Where Ruyler Got It, And Try--"

"Do You Suppose I'd Come Out With A Duplicate? You Should Have Thought Of

It Years Ago. You Always Promised To Take Me To India."

"It Should Be On You!" He Gazed At Her Adoringly. Her Hair Was Dressed

In A High And Stately Fashion To-Night. She Wore A Gown Of Gold Brocade

And A Necklace And Little Tiara Of Emeralds And Diamonds; She Was

Looking Very Handsome And Very Regal. Thornton Was A Thin, Dark, Nervous

Wisp Of A Man, Who Had Borne His Share Of The Burdens Laid Upon His City

In The Cataclysm Of 1906, But If His Wife Had Demanded An Enormous

Historic Ruby He Would Have Done His Best To Gratify Her. But How The

Deuce Could A Man--

Mrs. Gwynne Was Holding The Stone In Her Hand And Smiling Into Its

Flaming Depths Without Envy. She Was One Of Those Women Of Dazzling White

Skin, Black Hair And Blue Eyes, Who, When Wise, Never Wear Any Jewels But

Pearls. She Wore The Gwynne Pearls To-Night And A Shimmering White Gown.

Ruyler Glanced Round The Fine Old Room With The Warm Feeling Of

Satisfaction He Always Experienced At A San Francisco Function, Where The

Women Were Almost As Invariably Pretty As They Were Gay And Friendly. He

Did Not Like The Younger Men He Met On These Occasions As Well As He Did

Many Of The Older Ones; The Serious Ones Would Not Waste Their Time On

Society, And There Were Too Many Of The Sort Who Were Asked Everywhere

Because They Had Made A Cult Of Fashion, Whether They Could Afford It Or

Not. A Few Were The Sons Of Wealthy Parents, And Were More Dissipated

Than Those Obliged To "Hold Down" A Job That Provided Them With Money

Enough Above Their Bare Living Expenses To Make Them Useful And

Presentable.

Ruyler Looked Upon Both Sorts As Cumberers Of The Earth, And Only

Tolerated Them In His Own House When His Wife Gave A Party And Dancing

Men Must Be Had At Any Price.

There Was One Man Here To-Night For Whom He Had Always Held Particular

Detestation. His Name Was Nicolas Doremus. He Was A Broker In A Small

Way, But Ruyler Guessed That He Made The Best Part Of His Income At

Bridge, Possibly Poker. He Lived With Two Other Men In A Handsome

Apartment In One Of The New Buildings That Were Changing The Old Skyline

Of San Francisco. His Dancing Teas And Suppers Were Admirably Appointed

And The Most Exclusive People Went To Them.

Ruyler Knew His History In A General Way. His Father Had Made A Fortune

In "Con. Virginia" In The Seventies, And His Mother For A Few Years Had

Been The Social Equal Of The Women Who Now Patronized Her Son. But

Unfortunately The Gambling Microbe Settled Down In Harry Doremus' Veins,

And Shortly After His Son Was Born He Engaged His Favorite Room At The

Cliff House And Blew Out His Brains. His Wife Was Left With A Large

House, Which As A Last Act Of Grace He Had Forborne To Mortgage And Made

Over To Her By Deed. She Immediately Advertised For Boarders, And As Her

Cooking Was Excellent And She Had The Wit To Drop Out Of Society And Give

Her Undivided Attention To Business, She Prospered Exceedingly.

She Concentrated Her Ambitions Upon Her Only Child; Sent Him To A Private

School Patronized By The Sons Of The Wealthy, And Herself Taught Him

Every Ingratiating Social Art. She Wanted Him To Go To College, But By

This Time "Nick" Was Nineteen And As Highly Developed A Snob As Her

Maternal Heart Had Planned. Knowing That He Must Support Himself

Eventually, He Was Determined To Begin His Business Career At Once, And

Believed, With Some Truth, That There Was A Prejudice In This Broad Field

Against College Men. He Entered The Brokerage Firm Of A Bachelor Who Had

Occupied Mrs. Doremus' Best Suite For Fifteen Years, And Made A

Satisfactory Clerk, The While He Cultivated His Mother's Old Friends.

When Mrs. Doremus Died He Sold The House And Good Will For A Considerable

Sum, And, Combining It With Her Respectable Savings, Formed A Partnership

With Two Other Young Fellows, Whose Fathers Were Rich, But Old-Fashioned

Enough To Insist That Their Sons Should Work. Nick Did Most Of The Work.

His Partners, During The Rainy Season, Sat With Their Feet On The

Radiator And Read The Popular Magazines, And In Fine Weather Upheld The

Outdoor Traditions Of The State.

The Firm Had A Slender Patronage, As Ruyler Happened To Know, But Doremus

Was A Member Of The Pacific Union Club, And Although He Dined Out Every

Night, He Must Have Spent Six Or Seven Thousand A Year. It Was Amiably

Assumed That His Social Services,--He Played And Sang And Often

Entertained Exacting Groups Throughout An Entire Evening--His Fetching

And Carrying For One Rich Old Lady, Accounted For His Ability To Keep Out

Of Debt And Pay For His Many Extravagances; But Ruyler Knew That He Was

Principally Esteemed At The Small Green Table, And He Vaguely Recalled As

He Looked Over His Head To-Night That He Had Heard Disconnected Murmurs

Of Less Honorable Sources Of Revenue.

As Ruyler Turned Away With A Frown He Met Gwynne's Eyes Traveling From

The Same