THE COLLECTED WORKS OF CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN: Short Stories, Novels, Poems & Essays. Charlotte Perkins Gilman
"Oh, why, Ma'am? How can a fellow say why?" he protested. "Because it is so—so efflorescent, I suppose."
"Reminds me of a loose faucet," said she, sotto voce, to Dr. Bellair.
Mr. Peters beamed triumphantly, but in the very hour of his glory young Burns, hastening to get a cup of coffee for his fair one, tripped over the concealed pipe, and the fountain poured forth its contributions among the feet of the guests.
This was a minor misadventure, however, hurting no one's feeling but Mr. Peters', and Mrs. St. Cloud was so kind to him in consequence that he was envied by all the others.
Mr. Dykeman was attentive to his guests, old and young, but Mrs. Pettigrew had not her usual smile for him; Miss Orella declined to dance, alleging that she was too tired, and Dr. Bellair somewhat dryly told him that he need not bother with her. He was hardly to be blamed if he turned repeatedly to Mrs. St. Cloud, whose tactful sweetness was always ready. She had her swarm of young admirers about her, yet never failed to find a place for her host, a smile and a word of understanding.
Her eyes were everywhere. She watched Mr. Skee waltzing with the youngest, providing well-chosen refreshments for Miss Orella, gallantly escorting Grandma to see the "Lovers' Lane" they had made at the end of the garden. Its twin lines of lights were all outside; within was grateful shadow.
Mrs. St. Cloud paced through this fragrant arbor with each and every one of the receiving party, uttering ever-fresh expressions of admiration and gratitude for their kind thoughtfulness, especially to Mr. Dykeman.
When she saw Susie and Mr. Saunders go in at the farther end, she constituted herself a sort of protective agency to keep every one else out, holding them in play with various pleasant arts.
And Vivian? When she arrived there was a little gasp from Morton, who was waiting for her near the door. She was indeed a sight to make a lover's heart leap. He had then, as it were, surrounded her. Vainly did the others ask for dances. Morton had unblushingly filled out a card with his own name and substituted it for the one she handed him. She protested, but the music sounded and he whirled her away before she could expostulate to any avail.
His eyes spoke his admiration, and for once his tongue did not spoil the impression.
Half laughing and half serious, she let him monopolize her, but quite drove him away when Mr. Dykeman claimed his dance.
"All filled up!" said Morton for her, showing his card.
"Mine was promised yesterday, was it not, Miss Lane?" said the big man, smiling. And she went with him. He took her about the garden later, gravely admiring and attentive, and when Susie fairly rushed into her arms, begging her to come and talk with her, he left them both in a small rose-crowned summer-house and went back to Mrs. St. Cloud.
"Oh, Vivian, Vivian! What do you think!" Susie's face was buried on Vivian's shoulder. "I'm engaged!"
Vivian held her close and kissed her soft hair. Her joyous excitement was contagious.
"He's the nicest man in the world!" breathed Susie, "and he loves me!"
"We all supposed he did. Didn't you know it before?"
"Oh, yes, in a way; but, Vivian—he kissed me!"
"Well, child, have you never in all your little life been kissed before?"
Susie lifted a rosy, tearful face for a moment.
"Never, never, never!" she said. "I thought I had, but I haven't! Oh, I am so happy!"
"What's up?" inquired Morton, appearing with a pink lantern in his hand, in impatient search for his adored one. "Susie—crying?"
"No, I'm not," she said, and ran forthwith back to the house, whence Jimmy was bringing her ice cream.
Vivian started to follow her.
"Oh, no, Vivian; don't go. Wait." He dropped the lantern and took her hands. The paper cover flared up, showing her flushed cheeks and starry eyes. He stamped out the flame, and in the sudden darkness caught her in his arms.
For a moment she allowed him, turning her head away. He kissed her white shoulder.
"No! No, Morton—don't! You mustn't!"
She tried to withdraw herself, but he held her fast. She could feel the pounding of his heart.
"Oh, Vivian, don't say no! You will marry me, won't you? Some day, when I'm more worth while. Say you will! Some day—if not now. I love you so; I need you so! Say yes, Vivian."
He was breathing heavily. His arms held her motionless. She still kept her face turned from him.
"Let me go, Morton; let me go! You hurt me!"
"Say yes, dear, and I'll let you go—for a little while."
"Yes," said Vivian.
The ground jarred beside them, as a tall man jumped the hedge boundary. He stood a moment, staring.
"Well, is this my house, or Coney Island?" they heard him say. And then Morton swore softly to himself as Vivian left him and came out.
"Good evening, Dr. Hale," she said, a little breathlessly. "We weren't expecting you so soon."
"I should judge not," he answered. "What's up, anyhow?"
"The boys—and Mr. Dykeman—are giving a garden party for Mrs. St. Cloud."
"For whom?"
"For Adela St. Cloud. She is visiting us. Aren't you coming in?"
"Not now," he said, and was gone without another word.
CHAPTER IX. CONSEQUENCES.
You may have a fondness for grapes that are green,
And the sourness that greenness beneath;
You may have a right
To a colic at night—
But consider your children's teeth!
Dr. Hale retired from his gaily illuminated grounds in too much displeasure to consider the question of dignity. One suddenly acting cause was the news given him by Vivian. The other was the sight of Morton Elder's face as he struck a match to light his cigarette.
Thus moved, and having entered and left his own grounds like a thief in the night, he proceeded to tramp in the high-lying outskirts of the town until every light in his house had gone out. Then he returned, let himself into his office, and lay there on a lounge until morning.
Vivian had come out so quickly to greet the doctor from obscure motives. She felt a sudden deep objection to being found there with Morton, a wish to appear as one walking about unconcernedly, and when that match glow made Morton's face shine out prominently in the dark shelter, she, too, felt a sudden displeasure.
Without a word she went swiftly to the house, excused herself to her Grandmother, who nodded understandingly, and returned to The Cottonwoods, to her room. She felt that she must be alone and think; think of that irrevocable word she had uttered, and its consequences.
She sat at her window, rather breathless, watching the rows of pink lanterns swaying softly on the other side of the street; hearing the lively music, seeing young couples leave the gate and stroll off homeward.
Susie's happiness came more vividly to mind than her own. It was so freshly joyous, so pure, so perfectly at rest. She could not feel that way, could not tell with decision exactly how she did feel. But if this was happiness, it was not as she had imagined it. She thought of that moonlit summer night so long ago, and the memory of its warm wonder seemed sweeter than the hasty tumult and compulsion of to-night.
She