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

Direction. "I Didn't Ask Him," He Said Apologetically. "Hate Men

Too Well Dressed. Looks As If He Posed For Tailors' Ads In The Weeklies.

Never Could Stand The Social Parasite Anyhow, But Aileen Lawton Asked

Isabel To Let Her Bring Him, As They Are Going To Open The Ball To-Night

With Some New Kind Of Turkey Trot.

 

"Glad I'm Off For Washington. California's The Greatest Place On Earth In

The Dry Season, But I'd Have Passed Few Winters Here If It Hadn't Been

For The Work We All Had To Do, And Even Then It Would Have Been Heavy

Going Without My Wife's Companionship."

 

Ruyler Sighed. Should He Ever Enjoy His Wife's Companionship? And Into

What Sort Of Woman Would She Develop If Forced Along Crooked Ways By Ugly

Secrets, Blackmail, Perpetual Lying And Deceit? He Longed Impatiently For

The Decisive Interview With Spaulding On The Morrow. Then, At Least He

Could Prepare For Action, And, After All, Even Of More Importance Now

Than Winning His Wife's Confidence And Saving Her From Mental Anguish,

Was The Averting Of A Scandal That Would Echo Across The Continent

Straight Into The Ears Of His Half-Reconciled Father.

 

 

Iv

 

It Was About Halfway Through Dinner That The Primitive Man In Him Routed

Every Variety Of Apprehension That Had Tormented Him Since Two O'clock

That Afternoon.

 

Trennahan, Another Distinguished New Yorker, Who Had Made His Home In

California For Many Years, Had Taken In Mrs. Gwynne, And His Spanish

California Wife Sat At The Foot Of The Table With The Host. Ford Had

Been Given A Lively Girl, Aileen Lawton, To Dissipate The Financial

Anxieties Of The Day, And, To Ruyler's Satisfaction, Mrs. Thornton Had

Fallen To His Lot And He Sat On The Left Of Isabel. In This Little Group

At The Head Of The Table, His Chosen Intimates, Who Were More Interested

In The Affairs Of The World Than In Consummate California, Ruyler Had

Forgotten His Wife For A Time And Had Not Noticed With Whom She Had Gone

In To Dinner.

 

But During An Interval When Mrs. Thornton's Attention Had Been Captured

By The Man On Her Right, And The Others Drawn Into A Discussion Over

The Merits Of The New Mayor, Price Became Aware That Doremus Sat Beside

His Wife Halfway Down The Table On The Opposite Side, And That They

Were Talking, If Not Arguing, In A Low Tone, Oblivious For The Moment

Of The Company.

 

The Deferential Bend Was Absent From The Neck Of The Adroit Social

Explorer, His Head Was Alertly Poised Above The Lovely Young Matron Whose

Beauty, Wealth, And Foreign Personality, To Say Nothing Of The Importance

Of Her Husband, Gave Her Something Of The Standing Of Royalty In The

Aristocratic Little Republic Of San Francisco Society. There Was A Vague

Threat In That Poise, As If At Any Moment Venom Might Dart Down And

Strike That Drooping Head With Its Crown Of Blue-Black Braids. Suddenly

Helene Lifted Her Eyes, Full Of Appeal, To The Round Pale Blue Orbs That

At This Moment Openly Expressed A Cold And Ruthless Mind.

 

Ruyler Endeavored To Piece Together Those Disconnected Whispers--Letters

Discovered Or Stolen--Blackmail--But Such Whispers Were Too Often The

Whiffs From Energetic But Empty Minds, Always Floating About And Never

Seeming To Bring Any Culprit To Book.

 

Had This Man Got Hold Of His Wife's Secret?

 

But This Merely Sequacious Thought Was Promptly Routed. The Young Man,

Who Was Undeniably Good Looking And Was Rumored To Possess A Certain Cold

Charm For Women--Although, To Be Sure, The Wary San Francisco Heiress Had

So Far Been Impervious To It--Was Now Leaning Over Mrs. Price Ruyler With

A Coaxing Possessive Air, And The Appeal Left Helene's Eyes As She Smiled

Coquettishly And Began To Talk With Her Usual Animation; But Still In A

Tone That Was Little More Than A Murmur.

 

She Moved Her Shoulder Closer To The Man She Evidently Was Bent Upon

Fascinating, And Her Long Eyelashes Swept Up And Down While Her Black

Eyes Flashed And Her Pink Color Deepened.

 

There Was A Faint Amusement Mixed With Doremus' Habitual Air Of Amiable

Deference, And Somewhat More Of Assurance, But He Was As Absorbed As

Helene And Had No Eyes For Janet Maynard, On His Left, Whose Fortune Ran

Into Millions.

 

For A Moment Ruyler, Who Had Kept His Nerve Through Several Years Of

Racking Strain Which, Even An American Is Seldom Called Upon To Survive,

Wondered If He Were Losing His Mind. To Business And All Its Fluctuations

And Even Abnormalities, He Had Been Bred; There Was Probably No Condition

Possible In The World Of Finance And Commerce Which Could Shatter His

Self-Possession, Cloud His Mental Processes. But His Personal Life Had

Been Singularly Free Of Storms. Even His Emotional Upheaval, When He Had

Fallen Completely In Love For The First Time, Had Lacked That Torment Of

Uncertainty Which Might Have Played A Certain Havoc, For A Time, With

Those Quick Unalterable Decisions Of The Business Hour; And Even His

Engagement Had Only Lasted A Month.

 

It Was True That During The Past Six Months He Had Worried Off And On

About The Shadow That Had Fallen Upon His Wife's Spirits And Affected His

Own, But, When He Had Had Time To Think Of It, Before Yesterday Morning,

He Had Assumed It Was Due To Some Phase Of Feminine Psychology Which He

Had Never Mastered. That She Could Be Interested In Another Man Never Had

Crossed His Mind, In Spite Of His Passing Flare Of Jealousy. She Was

Still Passionately In Love With, Him, For All Her Vagaries--Or So He Had

Thought--

 

Ruyler Was Conscious Of A Riotous Confusion Of Mind That Really Made Him

Apprehensive. Had He Witnessed That Scene On The Dummy--This

Afternoon?--It Seemed A Long While Ago--Had He Heard Those Portentous

Words Of His Mother-In-Law To His Wife?--Had They Meant That She Had

Warned Her Daughter Against The Bad Blood In Her Veins, Extracted A

Promise--Broken!--To Walk In The Narrow Way Of The Dutiful

Wife--Mercifully Spared By A Fortunate Marriage The Terrible Temptations

Of The Older Woman's Youth? Had Helene Confessed ... In Desperate Need Of

Help, Advice? ... Doremus Was Just The Bounder To Compromise A Woman And

Then Blackmail Her.... Good God! What _Was_ It?

 

For All His Mental Turmoil He Realized That Here Alone Was The Only

Possible Menace To His Life's Happiness. His Mother-In-Law's Past Was A

Bitter Pill For A Proud Man To Swallow, And There Was Even The

Possibility Of His Wife's Illegitimacy, But, After All, Those Were

Matters Belonging To The Past, And The Past Quickly Receded To Limbo

These Days.

 

Even An Open Scandal, If Some One Of The Offal Sheets Of San Francisco

Got Hold Of The Story And Published It, Would Be Forgotten In Time. But

This--If His Wife Had Fallen In Love With Another Man--And Women Had No

Discrimination Where Love Was Concerned--(If A Decent Chap Got A Lovely

Girl It Was Mainly By Luck; The Rotters Got Just As Good)--Then Indeed He

Was In The Midst Of Disaster Without End. The Present Was Chaos And The

Future A Blank. He'd Enlist In The First War And Get Himself Shot....

 

Helene Had A Charming Light Coquetry, Wholly French, And She Exercised It

Indiscriminately, Much To The Delight Of The Old Beaux, For She Loved To

Please, To Be Admired; She Had An Innocent Desire That All Men Should

Think Her Quite Beautiful And Irresistible. Even Her Husband Had Never

Seen Her In An Unbecoming _Deshabille_; She Coquetted With Him

Shamelessly, Whenever She Was Not Too Gloriously Serious And Intent Only

Upon Making Him Happy. Until Lately--

 

This Was By No Means Her Ordinary Form.

 

He Had Come Upon Too Many Couples In Remote Corners Of Conservatories,

Had Been A Not Unaccomplished Principal In His Own Day ... There Was,

Beyond Question, Some Deep Understanding Between Her And This Man.

 

Suddenly Ruyler's Gaze Burned Through To His Wife's Consciousness. She

Moved Her Eyes To His, Flushed To Her Hair, Then For A Moment Looked

Almost Gray. But She Recovered Herself Immediately And Further Showed Her

Remarkable Powers Of Self-Possession By Turning Back To Her Partner And

Talking To Him With Animation Instead Of Plunging Into Conversation With

The Man On Her Right.

 

At The Same Moment Ruyler Became Subtly Aware That Mrs. Thornton Was

Looking At His Wife And Doremus, And As His Eyes Focused He Saw Her Long,

Thin, Mobile Mouth Curl And Her Eyes Fill With Open Disdain. The Mist In

His Brain Fled As Abruptly As An Inland Fog Out In The Bay Before One Of

The Sudden Winds Of The Pacific. In Any Case, His Mind Hardly Could Have

Remained In A State Of Confusion For Long; But That His Young Wife Was

Being Openly Contemned By The Cleverest As Well As The Most Powerful

Woman In San Francisco Was Enough To Restore His Equilibrium In A Flash.

Whatever His Wife's Indiscretions, It Was His Business To Protect Her

Until Such Time As He Had Proof Of More Than Indiscretion. And In This

Instance He Should Be His Own Detective.

 

He Turned To Mrs. Thornton.

 

"Going On To The Fairmont?" He Asked.

 

"Oh, Yes, I Have A New Gown--Have You Admired It? Arrived From Paris Last

Night--And I Am Chaperoning Two Of These Girls. You Are Not, Of Course?"

 

"I Did Intend To, But It's No Go. Still, I May Drop In Late And Take My

Wife Home--"

 

"Let Me Take Her Home." Was His Imagination Morbid, Or Was There

Something Both Peremptory And Eager In Mrs. Thornton's Tones? "I'm

Stopping At The Fairmont, Of Course, But Fordy And I Often Take A Drive

After A Hot Night And A Heavy Supper."

 

"If You Would Take Her Home In Case I Miss It. I Must Go To The Office--"

 

"I'd Like To. That's Settled." This Time Her Tones Were Warm And

Friendly. Ruyler Knew That Mrs. Thornton Did Not Like His Wife, But Her

Friendliness Toward Him, Since Her Return From Europe Three Or Four

Months Ago, Had Increased, If Anything. His Mind Was Now Working With Its

Accustomed Keen Clarity. He Recalled That There Had Been No Surprise

Mixed With The Contempt In Her Regard Of His Wife And Doremus.... He Also

Recalled That Several Times Of Late When He Had Met Her At The

Fairmont--Where He Often Lunched With A Group Of Men--She Had Regarded

Him With A Curious Considering Glance, Which He Suddenly Vocalized As:

"How Long?"

 

This Affair Had Been Going On For Some Time, Then. Either It Was Common

Talk, Or Some Circumstance Had Enlightened Mrs. Thornton Alone.

 

He Glanced Around The Table. No One Appeared To Be Taking The Slightest

Notice Of One Of Many Flirtations. At Least, Whatever His Wife's

Infatuation, He Could Avert Gossip. Mrs. Thornton Might Be A Tigress, But

She Was Not A Cat.

 

"When Do You Go Down To Burlingame?" She Asked.

 

"Not For Two Or Three Weeks Yet. I Don't Fancy Merely Sleeping In The

Country. But By That Time Things Will Ease Up A Bit And I Can Get Down

Every Day In Time To Have A Game Of Golf Before Dinner."

 

"Shall Mrs. Ruyler Migrate With The Rest?"

 

"Hardly."

 

"It Will Be Dull For Her In Town. No Reflections On Your Charming

Society, But Of Course She Does Not Get Much Of It, And She Will Miss Her

Young Friends. After All, She Is A Child And Needs Playmates."

 

Ruyler Darted At Her A Sharp Look, But She Was Smiling Amiably. Doremus

And The Men He Lived With, In Town Had A Bungalow At Burlingame And They

Bought Their Commutation Tickets At Precisely The Fashionable Moment.

"She Will Stay In Town," He Said Shortly. "She Needs A Rest, And San

Francisco Is The Healthiest Spot On Earth."

 

"But Trying To The Nerves When What We Inaccurately Call The Trade Winds

Begin. Why Not Let Her Stay With Me? Of Course She Would Be Lonely In Her

Own House, And Is Too Young To Stay There Alone Anyhow, But I'd Like To

Put Her Up, And You Certainly Could Run Down Week-Ends--Possibly Oftener.

American Men Are Always Obsessed With The Idea That They Are Twice As

Busy As They Really Are."

 

"You Are Too Good. I'll Put It Up To Helene. Of Course It Is For Her To

Decide. I'd Like It Mighty Well." But Grateful As He Was, His Uneasiness

Deepened At Her Evident Desire To Place Her Forces At His Disposal.

 

 

Chapter 5