According to the Pattern (11 page)

There were a few about her whom she knew, and to
these she nodded. Her companion bowed and smiled
right and left and she knew that she was a center of observation.

She was glad when the first strains of the great orches
tra in the opening selection made it possible for her to
sit back and keep still. But even then she knew she must keep strict guard over her face. She had often been told that her thoughts were all plainly written there. Claude used to say so. He must not read her heart now. No one must read it. She would lock it away and be false in her face for this night at least. She must think quickly and be ready to act. Senator Bradenberg had said that her husband would meet her at the Academy. When would he
come? Would he come alone? He was at Mrs. Sylvester’s
at dinner. He would likely come with her. She must be expecting that sight and not faint, nor even show the
slightest change of expression that it was anything to her.

Mrs. Sylvester’s box was just opposite. She would be able
to see them without lifting her eyes, without showing
that she saw them.

And even as she thought it two figures appeared in
that box, and she knew without looking that it was her husband and beside him, tall and fair and handsome in a clinging dress of heavenly blue, was Mrs. Sylvester. Her white silk opera cloak was over Claude’s arm, and her white glove touched him on the shoulder and pointed
something about the arrangement of the chairs where
they were to sit. But Miriam was listening with rapt face to the music—music which she did not hear—and apparently saw them not. Several eyes were turned toward her as the smiling beauty and the dark-haired man with
the set face entered the box, and Miriam bore the
scrutiny well. Even the man by her side, watching her
narrowly, could not decide whether she had seen them
yet.

Not until the music had ceased and the applause was
over did she raise her eyes in a studied circuit and let
them travel unconcernedly over the boxes, and rest for
just an instant on the face of her husband as he sat uncomfortably in the background, and then pass on as if
she had taken no note. But her heart was freezing,
freezing, and she was glad that she could turn to the
senator and begin to talk or she felt sure she would lose consciousness.

She wondered vaguely what Claude would do if she should faint and then she forced herself to listen to what was being said.

Oh! we’re sunk enough here, God knows! but not

quite so sunk that moments,

Sure though seldom, are denied us, when the spirit’s

true endowments

Stand out plainly _from its false ones, and apprise if

pursuing

Or the right way or the wrong way, to its triumph
or

undoing.

There are flashes struck from midnights, there are fire-

flames noondays kindle,

Whereby piled-up honors perish, whereby swollen

ambitions dwindle;

While just this or that poor impulse, which for once

had play unstifled.,

Seems the sole work of a lifetime that away the rest

have trifled.

—Robert Browning

CLAUDE Winthrop’s face was stern and his nerves were
tense as he seated himself on the edge of a chair and
began to search the audience for his wife’s face. He
would not even rest his whole weight upon the chair,
but as people do when under excitement he seemed to
think that he could help himself by working with every
muscle of his body. He paid little heed to the beautiful
woman by his side, and saw only to be chagrined by it,
the attention that was called to their box, as this one and
that, even those who were not friends of Mrs. Sylvester
turned and gazed, or bowed across the sea of hands.

He was so confused that he could not distinguish
persons. One face melted into another in a dizzy whirl.
In vain he searched impatiently for the one face that he
desired to see. He could not find it. Once he thought he
caught a familiar expression but someone leaned for
ward and hid it from his sight, and he searched without
avail in the same spot for several minutes. His brows
drew down in a decided scowl. Mrs. Sylvester began to
fear that she would not be able to coax him into being
agreeable. She leaned toward him and made sonic laugh
ing remark but he only scowled the harder and did not
reply. He had begun a systematic search of the audience.
Mrs. Sylvester had not told him whom she had sent as
an escort for his wife. She had laughingly put him aside
saying he would see in good time, and he was too angry
to ask her again. He tried to recall where his wife had
told him their seats were located, but everything of the
morning except things that he did not wish to remem
ber, seemed dimmed by the happenings of the day. She would not have chosen expensive seats he felt sure. He
began in the humbler scats and went from face to face
looking carefully, lest by any chance he should miss her.
He dreaded, as he hoped, to find her. What did she think
of him? Did she know where he had been detained?
What message had Mrs. Sylvester sent? It was likely she
had done it up all right, and thrown Miriam entirely off
the track, for she seemed to suppose that this was what
he wished, and he, fool and weakling that he was, had
not had the courage to tell her it was not. It was likely
Miriam would not suspect anything, nevertheless he felt
that this state of things was not conducive to the confi
dential relations which he wished to re-establish with his
wife. How glad he was that the music kept up. He would
not have to talk until he found her. He could not tell
from his wife’s face whether she was angry or grieved.
He hurried his eyes along the next row and morbidly
fearing he had missed a few faces went conscientiously
back over it again.

“Claude, you positively do look too bearish to en
dure. You really must moderate that frown,” said Mrs.
Sylvester leaning toward him again. “If you don’t I shall
be sorry I brought you.”

“I am sorry already,” he wished to say, and bit his lips
that he had not the courage. He had never known before
what a coward he was. After regarding him a moment
the lady added:

“If it is on your wife’s account you arc glaring into the
audience in that style you are wasting time. I assure you
she looks very happy and is perfectly oblivious of you
and me. She seems to be enjoying both the music and
her companion hugely. Come, cheer up!”

He followed the direction of her glance and suddenly
saw his wife. It was just as she raised her eyes in that
sweeping survey and looked him full in the face. There
was no recognition in hers—there was placid enjoyment
in her expression. This might have restored his equilib
rium had he not instantly recognized her companion.
That silver head was noticeable in any audience. It
seemed to the enraged husband as if it shone with
unusual brilliancy to-night, as if to call attention to his
shame. With an exclamation half under his breath
Claude started from his chair. He felt that he must rush
down at once and rescue Miriam from the clutches of
that vile man. Hardly knowing what he did he threw
Mrs. Sylvester’s long white cloak away with him to a
distant chair. It had slipped down in front of him from
the seat where he had put it in his pre-occupation.

“Claude!” Mrs. Sylvester turned with alarm instantly
covered by an amused smile, such as an indulgent nurse
might wear over a child’s antics. “Claude, everyone is
watching you! For pity’s sake remember where you are!
Do sit down here beside me and hand me my pro
gramme. See, I have dropped it, and be careful; the
music is very soft just now. People will hear you if you
move the chairs in such a reckless fashion. Senator
Bradenberg won’t bite. You can safely trust your wife
down there until the programme is over. I did not know
you were so impulsive!”

She had talked on softly, bringing him back to a sense
of his position, until she saw him seated in the chair on
her other side and felt reasonably certain that he would r
emain there for a little while at least. She had not
counted on his being so stirred, and felt chagrined at her
lack of power to make him forget his wife. It was
unfortunate that she had had no one else by but the “bad
senator” to send on this errand. She might have known
Claude would be squeamish about having his wife’s
name associated with his. He was a little notorious, but
she had not thought it would matter much. She bit her
lip in vexation that she had let him know that she had
sent the senator. She might have found a way to let him
suppose that it was his wife’s own choice to go with him.
Stay! Could she not do it yet?

“Your wife has resources of her own,” she said in a
low voice, amusedly. “I see she has scorned advice and
chosen her own escort.”

With a quick look at her Claude asked:

“Whom did you send, may I ask?”

“Oh, dear me! Don’t put on that tremendous voice,”
was her laughing response. “No one you could possibly object to in the least, but it seems she prefers the senator. There is no accounting for tastes.” He looked sharply at
her for a minute. It had never occurred to him to doubt her word before, but now he felt uncertain of her. Was
this true? Had Miriam refined to go with the person Mrs. Sylvester had sent and preferred Senator Bradenberg? If so things were a thousand times worse than he supposed.
Of course Miriam did not know the man she was
favoring. Her pure, true nature would shrink from him,
he felt sure, if she knew all. But to have her name linked with his before others was gall and wormwood to her husband. For the time being his own offenses became as nothing to this. Men could do a great many things that would not be forgiven in a woman. Woman’s nature was pure and true—here he glanced at the woman by his side and was uncertain—and when she fell, great was the fall!

And all this time the senator had watched every
movement of the box above him. He knew a jealous
look when he saw it. How interesting! A flirtation with
a married woman was twice as spicy if there was some opposition, a little intrigue necessary, and even an effort, just at first, to win her attention from her true liege lord. With a glitter in his eye he settled to his pleasant task, in
no wise deterred by the unhappy look of Claude Win
throp above him. Was not that young man in company
with another married woman? Why should he object to
his wife’s receiving attention?

And Miriam, while she kept perfect control of her
face, knew every movement of her husband. She saw the change at Mrs. Sylvester’s command to the seat nearer to her. She saw the apparent good understanding between them—thought she saw, because imagination was all at work on that side, that Claude avoided her eyes, and that he was all deference to his companion. So blind is love sometimes. So wise is wickedness—temptation.

Miriam became aware that Senator Bradenberg was
telling some interesting stories to her. She thought he
had kind eyes and a pleasant face. She must not for the world let him suspect that she would rather be anywhere else in the world than by his side at that minute-. He was
a dear old man who was exerting himself to the utmost
to make himself agreeable and he would be pained if he
knew how she longed to be at home and bury her face in the pillows and weep in the darkness. The phantom
of those restful pillows came between her and the singers
whenever she dared raise her eyes to see her husband
there beside another woman.

The old plunderer of hearts was meditating whether
he would venture to ask her to let him accompany her
back home, or whether it would be
.
wisest for his
purpose to surrender her to her husband this first time,
when she turned to him of her own accord with a
coaxing smile on her pretty face such as she used to wear
as a child when she wanted something very much,
before the days came when she was not so sure of having
all her wishes.

“Take inc home, please, won’t you. I want to hear the
end of that story you were telling me. My husband will
have to go home with Mrs. Sylvester you know, and
anyway I want to hear the rest.”

He was quick enough not to show his surprise. He was
delighted and he was puzzled. Was that all acting, that innocent pleading look, or was she really interested? He
had always flattered himself on being able to win a
woman if he tried, but he had supposed this one harder
to reach just at the very first. Or was she possibly piqued
by her husband’s action? Ah! That must be it. He would
have to go slowly for a woman with that pure curve of
brow was usually wedded to certain narrow laws of life and it was not easy to persuade her that no possible harm
could come from the breaking of them.

He acquiesced with charming grace, and because he
knew husbands and the world in general, he joined with
her in hastening their steps just a trifle at the close.

And so it happened that they were well down the
wide staircase on one side when Claude and Mrs. Syl
vester appeared high above them at the top of the
opposite stairs. Claude had hurried Mrs. Sylvester be
yond all endurance. She felt thoroughly vexed with him,
and began to think that this was the end of her intrigue
after all. He would rush to his wife and confess ail,
perhaps, and find out that she had not spoken the truth
and then farewell to him. Well! Why not! Why did she
care? There were others handsomer, with more wealth and standing—let him go. But a tightening of her heart
strings made her feel that she was not ready for that—not
yet. Therefore it was with a certain triumph that she
watched Miriam descend below them. She looked up,
indeed, and nodded her recognition coolly too, as if she
had known they were there all the time and did not
mind, and went on talking with bright, animated face
that her enemy could but acknowledge was beautiful.