第83章

"I understand you,Hugh,better than you think.You want to get back to your work,and--and I should be happier.I'm not so silly and so ignorant as to think that I can satisfy you always.And I'd like to get settled at home,--I really should."There surged up within me a feeling of relief.I seized her hand as it lay on the table.

"We'll come abroad another time,and go to France,"I said."Maude,you're splendid!"She shook her head.

"Oh,no,I'm not."

"You do satisfy me,"I insisted."It isn't that at all.But I think,perhaps,it would be wiser to go back.It's rather a crucial time with me,now that Mr.Watling's in Washington.I've just arrived at a position where I shall be able to make a good deal of money,and later on--""It isn't the money,Hugh,"she cried,with a vehemence which struck me as a little odd."I sometimes think we'd be a great deal happier without--without all you are going to make."I laughed.

"Well,I haven't made it yet."

She possessed the frugality of the Hutchinses.And some times my lavishness had frightened her,as when we had taken the suite of rooms we now occupied.

"Are you sure you can afford them,Hugh?"she had asked when we first surveyed them.

I began married life,and carried it on without giving her any conception of the state of my finances.She had an allowance from the first.

As the steamer slipped westward my spirits rose,to reach a climax of exhilaration when I saw the towers of New York rise gleaming like huge stalagmites in the early winter sun.Maude likened them more happily--to gigantic ivory chessmen.Well,New York was America's chessboard,and the Great Players had already begun to make moves that astonished the world.As we sat at breakfast in a Fifth Avenue hotel I ran my eye eagerly over the stock-market reports and the financial news,and rallied Maude for a lack of spirits.

"Aren't you glad to be home?"I asked her,as we sat in a hansom.

"Of course I am,Hugh!"she protested."But--I can't look upon New York as home,somehow.It frightens me."I laughed indulgently.

"You'll get used to it,"I said."We'll be coming here a great deal,off and on."She was silent.But later,when we took a hansom and entered the streams of traffic,she responded to the stimulus of the place:the movement,the colour,the sight of the well-appointed carriages,of the well-fed,well-groomed people who sat in them,the enticement of the shops in which we made our purchases had their effect,and she became cheerful again....

In the evening we took the "Limited"for home.

We lived for a month with my mother,and then moved into our own house.

It was one which I had rented from Howard Ogilvy,and it stood on the corner of Baker and Clinton streets,near that fashionable neighbourhood called "the Heights."Ogilvy,who was some ten years older than I,and who belonged to one of our old families,had embarked on a career then becoming common,but which at first was regarded as somewhat meteoric:

gradually abandoning the practice of law,and perceiving the possibilities of the city of his birth,he had "gambled"in real estate and other enterprises,such as our local water company,until he had quadrupled his inheritance.He had built a mansion on Grant Avenue,the wide thoroughfare bisecting the Heights.The house he had vacated was not large,but essentially distinctive;with the oddity characteristic of the revolt against the banal architecture of the 80's.The curves of the tiled roof enfolded the upper windows;the walls were thick,the note one of mystery.I remember Maude's naive delight when we inspected it.

"You'd never guess what the inside was like,would you,Hugh?"she cried.

From the panelled box of an entrance hall one went up a few steps to a drawing-room which had a bowed recess like an oriel,and window-seats.

The dining-room was an odd shape,and was wainscoted in oak;it had a tiled fireplace and (according to Maude)the "sweetest"china closet built into the wall.There was a "den"for me,and an octagonal reception-room on the corner.Upstairs,the bedrooms were quite as unusual,the plumbing of the new pattern,heavy and imposing.Maude expressed the air of seclusion when she exclaimed that she could almost imagine herself in one of the mediaeval towns we had seen abroad.

"It's a dream,Hugh,"she sighed."But--do you think we can afford it?"...

"This house,"I announced,smiling,"is only a stepping-stone to the palace I intend to build you some day.""I don't want a palace!"she cried."I'd rather live here,like this,always."A certain vehemence in her manner troubled me.I was charmed by this disposition for domesticity,and yet I shrank from the contemplation of its permanency.I felt vaguely,at the time,the possibility of a future conflict of temperaments.Maude was docile,now.But would she remain docile?and was it in her nature to take ultimately the position that was desirable for my wife?Well,she must be moulded,before it were too late.Her ultra-domestic tendencies must be halted.As yet blissfully unaware of the inability of the masculine mind to fathom the subtleties of feminine relationships,I was particularly desirous that Maude and Nancy Durrett should be intimates.The very day after our arrival,and while we were still at my mother's,Nancy called on Maude,and took her out for a drive.Maude told me of it when I came home from the office.

"Dear old Nancy!"I said."I know you liked her.""Of course,Hugh.I should like her for your sake,anyway.She's--she's one of your oldest and best friends.""But I want you to like her for her own sake.""I think I shall,"said Maude.She was so scrupulously truthful!

"I was a little afraid of her,at first.""Afraid of Nancy!"I exclaimed.

"Well,you know,she's much older than I.I think she is sweet.But she knows so much about the world--so much that she doesn't say.I can't describe it."I smiled.