IV
THE DISASTER
Ariel had worked all the afternoon over her mother's wedding-gown,
and two hours were required by her toilet for the dance. She curled
her hair frizzily, burning it here and there, with a slate-pencil
heated over a lamp chimney, and she placed above one ear three or
four large artificial roses, taken from an old hat of her mother's,
which she had found in a trunk in the store-room. Possessing no
slippers, she carefully blacked and polished her shoes, which had
been clumsily resoled, and fastened into the strings of each small
rosettes of red ribbon; after which she practised swinging the train
of her skirt until she was proud of her manipulation of it. She
had no powder, but found in her grandfather's room a lump of magnesia,
that he was in the habit of taking for heart-burn, and passed it
over and over her brown face and hands. Then a lingering gaze into
her small mirror gave her joy at last: she yearned so hard to see
herself charming that she did see herself so. Admiration came and
she told herself that she was more attractive to look at than she
had ever been in her life, and that, perhaps, at last she might
begin to be sought for like other girls. The little glass showed
a sort of prettiness in her thin, unmatured young face; tripping
dance-tunes ran through her head, her feet keeping the time,--ah,
she did so hope to dance often that night! Perhaps--perhaps she
might be asked for every number. And so, wrapping an old waterproof
cloak about her, she took her grandfather's arm and sallied forth,
high hopes in her beating heart.
It was in the dressing-room that the change began to come. Alone,
at home in her own ugly little room, she had thought herself almost
beautiful, but here in the brightly lighted chamber crowded with
the other girls it was different. There was a big cheval-glass at
one end of the room, and she faced it, when her turn came--for the
mirror was popular--with a sinking spirit. There was the contrast,
like a picture painted and framed. The other girls all wore their
hair after the fashion introduced to Canaan by Mamie Pike the week
before, on her return from a visit to Chicago. None of them had
"crimped" and none had bedecked their tresses with artificial
flowers. Her alterations of the wedding-dress had not been successful;
the skirt was too short in front and higher on one side than on
the other, showing too plainly the heavy-soled shoes, which had
lost most of their polish in the walk through the snow. The ribbon
rosettes were fully revealed, and as she glanced at their reflection
she heard the words, "LOOK AT THAT TRAIN AND THOSE ROSETTES!"
whispered behind her, and saw in the mirror two pretty young women
turn away with their handkerchiefs over their mouths and retreat
hurriedly to an alcove. All the feet in the room except Ariel's
were in dainty kid or satin slippers of the color of the dresses
from which they glimmered out, and only Ariel wore a train.
She went away from the mirror and pretended to be busy with a hanging
thread in her sleeve.
She was singularly an alien in the chattering room, although she
had been born and lived all her life in the town. Perhaps her position
among the young ladies may be best defined by the remark, generally
current among them, that evening, to the effect that it was "very
sweet of Mamie to invite her." Ariel was not like the others;
she was not of them, and never had been. Indeed, she did not know
them very well. Some of them nodded to her and gave her a word of
greeting pleasantly; all of them whispered about her with wonder
and suppressed amusement; but none talked to her. They were not
unkindly, but they were young and eager and excited over their own
interests,--which were then in the "gentlemen's dressing-room."
Each of the other girls had been escorted by a youth of the place,
and, one by one, joining these escorts in the hall outside the door,
they descended the stairs, until only Ariel was left. She came down
alone after the first dance had begun, and greeted her young hostess's
mother timidly. Mrs. Pike--a small, frightened-looking woman with
a prominent ruby necklace--answered her absently, and hurried away
to see that the imported waiters did not steal anything.
Ariel sat in one of the chairs against the wall and watched the
dancers with a smile of eager and benevolent interest. In Canaan
no parents, no guardians nor aunts, were haled forth o' nights to
duenna the junketings of youth; Mrs. Pike did not reappear, and
Ariel sat conspicuously alone; there was nothing else for her to
do. It was not an easy matter.
When the first dance reached an end, Mamie Pike came to her for
a moment with a cheery welcome, and was immediately surrounded by
a circle of young men and women, flushed with dancing, shouting
as was their wont, laughing inexplicably over words and phrases
and unintelligible mono- syllables, as if they all belonged to a
secret society and these cries were symbols of things exquisitely
humorous, which only they understood. Ariel laughed with them more
heartily than any other, so that she might seem to be of them and
as merry as they were, but almost immediately she found herself
outside of the circle, and presently they all whirled away into
another dance, and she was left alone again.
So she sat, no one coming near her, through several dances, trying
to maintain the smile of delighted interest upon her face, though
she felt the muscles of her face beginning to ache with their fixedness,
her eyes growing hot and glazed. All the other girls were provided
with partners for every dance, with several young men left over,
these latter lounging hilariously together in the doorways. Ariel
was careful not to glance towards them, but she could not help hating
them. Once or twice between the dances she saw Miss Pike speak appealingly
to one of the superfluous, glancing, at the same time, in her own
direction, and Ariel could see, too, that the appeal proved unsuccessful,
until at last Mamie approached her, leading Norbert Flitcroft, partly
by the hand, partly by will-power. Norbert was an excessively fat
boy, and at the present moment looked as patient as the blind. But
he asked Ariel if she was "engaged for the next dance,"
and, Mamie having flitted away, stood disconsolately beside her,
waiting for the music to begin. Ariel was grateful for him
"I think you must be very good-natured, Mr. Flitcroft,"
she said, with an air of raillery
"No, I'm not," he replied, plaintively. "Everybody
thinks I am because I'm fat, and they expect me to do things they
never dream of asking anybody else to do. I'd like to see 'em even
ASK 'Gene Bantry to go and do some of the things they get me to
do! A person isn't good-natured just because he's fat," he
concluded, morbidly, "but he might as well be!"
"Oh, I meant good-natured," she returned, with a sprightly
laugh, "because you're willing to waltz with me."
"Oh, well," he returned, sighing, "that's all right."
The orchestra flourished into "La Paloma"; he put his
arm mournfully about her, and taking her right hand with his left,
carried her arm out to a rigid right angle, beginning to pump and
balance for time. They made three false starts and then got away.
Ariel danced badly; she hopped and lost the step, but they persevered,
bumping against other couples continually. Circling breathlessly
into the next room, they passed close to a long mirror, in which
Ariel saw herself, although in a flash, more bitterly contrasted
to the others than in the cheval-glass of the dressing-room. The
clump of roses was flopping about her neck, her crimped hair looked
frowzy, and there was something terribly wrong about her dress.
Suddenly she felt her train to be ominously grotesque, as a thing
following her in a nightmare.
A moment later she caught her partner making a burlesque face of
suffering over her shoulder, and, turning her head quickly, saw
for whose benefit he had constructed it. Eugene Bantry, flying expertly
by with Mamie, was bestowing upon Mr. Flitcroft a condescendingly
commiserative wink. The next instant she tripped in her train and
fell to the floor at Eugene's feet, carrying her partner with her.
There was a shout of laughter. The young hostess stopped Eugene,
who would have gone on, and he had no choice but to stoop to Ariel's
assistance.
"It seems to be a habit of mine," she said, laughing loudly.
She did not appear to see the hand he offered, but got to her feet
without help and walked quickly away with Norbert, who proceeded
to live up to the character he had given himself.
"Perhaps we had better not try it again," she laughed.
"Well, I should think not," he returned, with the frankest
gloom. With the air of conducting her home he took her to the chair
against the wall whence he had brought her. There his responsibility
for her seemed to cease. "Will you excuse me?" he asked,
and there was no doubt that he felt that he had been given more
than his share that evening, even though he was fat.
"Yes, indeed." Her laughter was continuous. "I should
think you WOULD be glad to get rid of me after that. Ha, ha, ha!
Poor Mr. Flitcroft, you know you are!"
It was the deadly truth, and the fat one, saying, "Well, if
you'll just excuse me now," hurried away with a step which
grew lighter as the distance from her increased. Arrived at the
haven of a far doorway, he mopped his brow and shook his head grimly
in response to frequent rallyings.
Ariel sat through more dances, interminable dances and intermissions,
in that same chair, in which, it began to seem, she was to live
out the rest of her life. Now and then, if she thought people were
looking at her as they passed, she broke into a laugh and nodded
slightly, as if still amused over her mishap.
After a long time she rose, and laughing cheerfully to Mr. Flitcroft,
who was standing in the doorway and replied with a wan smile, stepped
out quickly into the hall, where she almost ran into her great-uncle,
Jonas Tabor. He was going towards the big front doors with Judge
Pike, having just come out of the latter's library, down the hall.
Jonas was breathing heavily and was shockingly pale, though his
eyes were very bright. He turned his back upon his grandniece sharply
and went out of the door. Ariel turned from him quite as abruptly
and re-entered the room whence she had come. She laughed again to
her fat friend as she passed him, and, still laughing, went towards
the fatal chair, when her eyes caught sight of Eugene Bantry and
Mamie coming in through the window from the porch. Still laughing,
she went to the window and looked out; the porch seemed deserted
and was faintly illuminated by a few Japanese lanterns. She sprang
out, dropped upon the divan, and burying her face in her hands,
cried heart-brokenly. Presently she felt something alive touch her
foot, and, her breath catching with alarm, she started to rise.
A thin hand, issuing from a shabby sleeve, had stolen out between
two of the green tubs and was pressing upon one of her shoes.
"'SH!" said Joe. "Don't make a noise!"
His warning was not needed; she had recognized the hand and sleeve
instantly. She dropped back with a low sound which would have been
hysterical if it had been louder, while he raised himself on his
arm until she could see his face dimly, as he peered at her between
the palms.
"What were you going on about?" he asked, angrily.
"Nothing," she answered. "I wasn't. You must go away,
and quick. It's too dangerous. If the Judge found you--"
"He won't!"
"Ah, you'd risk anything to see Mamie Pike--"
"What were you crying about?" he interrupted.
"Nothing, I tell you!" she repeated, the tears not ceasing
to gather in her eyes. "I wasn't."
"I want to know what it was," he insisted. "Didn't
the fools ask you to dance? Ah! You needn't tell me. That's it.
I've been here for the last three dances and you weren't in sight
till you came to the window. Well, what do you care about that for?"
"I don't!" she answered. "I don't!" Then suddenly,
without being able to prevent it, she sobbed.
"No," he said, gently, "I see you don't. And you
let yourself be a fool because there are a lot of fools in there."
She gave way, all at once, to a gust of sorrow and bitterness; she
bent far over and caught his hand and laid it against her wet cheek.
"Oh, Joe," she whispered, brokenly, "I think we have
such hard lives, you and I! It doesn't seem right --while we're
so young! Why can't we be like the others? Why can't we have some
of the fun?"
He withdrew his hand, with the embarrassment and shame he would
have felt had she been a boy. "Get out!" he said, feebly.
She did not seem to notice, but, still stooping, rested her elbows
on her knees and her face in her hands. "I try so hard to have
fun, to be like the rest,--and it's always a mistake, always, always,
always!" She rocked herself, slightly, from side to side. "I
am a fool, it's the truth, or I wouldn't have come to-night. I want
to be attractive--I want to be in things. I want to laugh like they
do--"
"To laugh just to laugh, and not because there's something
funny?"
"Yes, I do, I do! And to know how to dress and to wear my hair--there
must be some place where you can learn those things. I've never
had any one to show me! Ah! Grandfather said something like that
this afternoon--poor man! We're in the same case. If we only had
some one to show us! It all seems so BLIND, here in Canaan, for
him and me! I don't say it's not my own fault as much as being poor.
I've been a hoyden; I don't feel as if I'd learned how to be a girl
yet, Joe. It's only lately I've cared, but I'm seventeen, Joe, and--and
to-day--to-day--I was sent home--and to-night--" She faltered,
came to a stop, and her whole body was shaken with sobs. "I
hate myself so for crying--for everything!"
"I'll tell you something," he whispered, chuckling desperately.
"'Gene made me unpack his trunk, and I don't believe he's as
great a man at college as he is here. I opened one of his books,
and some one had written in it, `Prigamaloo Bantry, the Class Try-To-Be'!
He'd never noticed, and you ought to have heard him go on! You'd
have just died, Ariel--I almost bust wide open! It was a mean trick
in me, but I couldn't help showing it to him."
Joe's object was obtained. She stopped crying, and, wiping her eyes,
smiled faintly. Then she became grave. "You're jealous of Eugene,"
she said.
He considered this for a moment. "Yes," he answered, thoughtfully,
"I am. But I wouldn't think about him differently on that account.
And I wouldn't talk about him to any one but you."
"Not even to--" She left the question unfinished.
"No," he said, quietly. "Of course not."
"No? Because it wouldn't be any use?"
"I don't know. I never have a chance to talk to her, anyway."
"Of course you don't!" Her voice had grown steady. "You
say I'm a fool. What are you?"
"You needn't worry about me," he began. "I can take
care--"
"'SH!" she whispered, warningly. The music had stopped,
a loud clatter of voices and laughter succeeding it.
"What need to be careful," Joe assured her, "with
all that noise going on?"
"You must go away," she said, anxiously. "Oh, please,
Joe!"
"Not yet; I want--"
She coughed loudly. Eugene and Mamie Pike had come to the window,
with the evident intention of occupying the veranda, but perceiving
Ariel engaged with threads in her sleeve, they turned away and disappeared.
Other couples looked out from time to time, and finding the solitary
figure in possession, retreated abruptly to seek stairways and remote
corners for the things they were impelled to say.
And so Ariel held the porch for three dances and three intermissions,
occupying a great part of the time with entreaties that her obdurate
and reckless companion should go. When, for the fourth time, the
music sounded, her agitation had so increased that she was visibly
trembling. "I can't stand it, Joe," she said, bending
over him.
"I don't know what would happen if they found you. You've GOT
to go!"
"No, I haven't," he chuckled. "They haven't even
distributed the supper yet!"
"And you take all the chances," she said, slowly, "just
to see her pass that window a few times."
"What chances?"
"Of what the Judge will do if any one sees you."
"Nothing; because if any one saw me I'd leave."
"Please go."
"Not till--"
"'SH!"
A colored waiter, smiling graciously, came out upon the porch bearing
a tray of salad, hot oysters, and coffee. Ariel shook her head.
"I don't want any," she murmured.
The waiter turned away in pity and was re- entering the window,
when a passionate whisper fell upon his ear as well as upon Ariel's.
"TAKE IT!"
"Ma'am?" said the waiter.
"I've changed my mind," she replied, quickly. The waiter,
his elation restored, gave of his viands with the superfluous bounty
loved by his race when distributing the product of the wealthy.
When he had gone, "Give me everything that's hot," said
Joe. "You can keep the salad."
"I couldn't eat it or anything else," she answered, thrusting
the plate between the palms.
For a time there was silence. From within the house came the continuous
babble of voices and laughter, the clink of cutlery on china. The
young people spent a long time over their supper. By- and-by the
waiter returned to the veranda, deposited a plate of colored ices
upon Ariel's knees with a noble gesture, and departed.
"No ice for me," said Joe.
"Won't you please go now?" she entreated!
"It wouldn't be good manners," he responded. "They
might think I only came for supper--"
"Hand me back the things. The waiter might come for them any
minute."
"Not yet. I haven't quite finished. I eat with contemplation,
Ariel, because there's more than the mere food and the warmth of
it to consider. There's the pleasure of being entertained by the
great Martin Pike. Think what a real kindness I'm doing him, too.
I increase his good deeds and his hospitality without his knowing
it or being able to help it. Don't you see how I boost his standing
with the Recording Angel? If Lazarus had behaved the way I do, Dives
needn't have had those worries that came to him in the after- life."
"Give me the dish and coffee-cup," she whispered, impatiently.
"Suppose the waiter came and had to look for them? Quick!"
"Take them, then. You'll see that jealousy hasn't spoiled my
appetite--"
A bottle-shaped figure appeared in the window and she had no time
to take the plate and cup which were being pushed through the palm-leaves.
She whispered a syllable of warning, and the dishes were hurriedly
withdrawn as Norbert Flitcroft, wearing a solemn expression of injury,
came out upon the veranda.
He halted suddenly. "What's that?" he asked, with suspicion.
"Nothing," answered Ariel, sharply. "Where?"
"Behind those palms."
"Probably your own shadow," she laughed; "or it might
have been a draught moving the leaves."
He did not seem satisfied, but stared hard at the spot where the
dishes had disappeared, meantime edging back cautiously nearer the
window.
"They want you," he said, after a pause. "Some one's
come for you."
"Oh, is grandfather waiting?" She rose, at the same time
letting her handkerchief fall. She stooped to pick it up, with her
face away from Norbert and towards the palms, whispering tremulously,
but with passionate urgency, "Please GO!"
"It isn't your grandfather that has come for you," said
the fat one, slowly. "It is old Eskew Arp. Something's happened."
She looked at him for a moment, beginning to tremble violently,
her eyes growing wide with fright.
"Is my grandfather--is he sick?"
"You better go and see. Old Eskew's waiting in the hall. He'll
tell you."
She was by him and through the window instantly. Norbert did not
follow her; he remained for several moments looking earnestly at
the palms; then he stepped through the window and beckoned to a
youth who was lounging in the doorway across the room.
"There's somebody hiding behind those plants," he whispered,
when his friend reached him. "Go and tell Judge Pike to send
some of the niggers to watch outside the porch, so that he doesn't
get away. Then tell him to get his revolver and come here."
Meanwhile Ariel had found Mr. Arp waiting in the hall, talking in
a low voice to Mrs. Pike.
"Your grandfather's all right," he told the frightened
girl, quickly. "He sent me for you, that's all. Just hurry
and get your things."
She was with him again in a moment, and seizing the old man's arm,
hurried him down the steps and toward the street almost at a run.
"You're not telling me the truth," she said. "You're
not telling me the truth!"
"Nothing has happened to Roger," panted Mr. Arp. "Nothing
to mind, I mean. Here! We're going this way, not that." They
had come to the gate, and as she turned to the right he pulled her
round sharply to the left. "We're not going to your house."
"Where are we going?"
"We're going to your uncle Jonas's."
"Why?" she cried, in supreme astonishment. "What
do you want to take me there for? Don't you know that he's stopped
speaking to me?"
"Yes," said the old man, grimly, with something of the
look he wore when delivering a clincher at the "National House,"--"he's
stopped speaking to everybody."