Crimson Roses (16 page)

“Oh,” said Marion. “Isabel, I’ve got a message for you.” Isabel turned and stared at her coldly.

“Aw! It’s Marion War’n, again, isn’t it? I hardly knew ya!”

Marion’s cheeks were pink with the slighting tone, but she went on briefly.

“Mrs. Forbes wants to know if you will help out as an aide. She says they haven’t enough aides.”

“What! Me? Naw indeedly! I nevah tie myself up like that, not this baby. I came to have a good time. Besides I’ve got a new imported dress on. I’d be sure to ruin it. Just run back to Mrs. Forbes and ask her, what does she think I am? Ask her that for me!” And Isabel’s laugh rang out in scorn, which somehow seemed to be turned against Marion, and all the other girls joined in the laugh and looked at Marion as if she were a doormat. At least that was the way it seemed to Marion.

The color came in a tide into her cheeks now. For a minute she wanted to stand still there and turn on those girls and tell them just what she thought of them. Tell them how rude they were.

Well, what good would that do? And those ugly feelings that came into her heart. They were altogether unworthy of a child of the King. She was routed again. She must not let these girls have such power over her that they could trouble her soul even to having sinful thoughts, for somehow before she realized it, she was saying to herself how she hated Isabel Cresson.

Then instantly came the thought that she had a refuge from all such things. One who was a very present help in time of trouble, and she could cry to Him even in this crowded, noisy social room. So she lifted her heart for help, and with her head raised in a sweet dignity she began making her way between the people who were coming in very fast now and filling the room. Then suddenly the minister’s wife slipped her arm around her and greeted her with a smile as if she were really glad to see her, and she felt a sudden rush of comfort. What a silly she was! Was she going to cry right there before all those people? Oh, Jennie and Tom had been right. She was not fit to go among people. She belonged out on a farm somewhere, where she wouldn’t come in contact with the world at all! She must get over such foolishness and learn not to care what those rude girls did. Just because she used to know them at school and had expected them to be friendly. She must not let such things upset her so.

The minister’s wife was talking to her, saying dear things about her father, telling her how badly she had felt when her own father had been taken away. Her sympathetic tone seemed healing in its touch. The tight lines around Marion’s lips relaxed, and she began to look almost happy.

And suddenly the minister loomed in her way in a group of other men.

“Why, here is Miss Warren!” he said heartily. “Glad to see you. You’re getting to be quite a stranger here, do you know it? Though you’re pretty faithful on Sundays, yet, aren’t you? I always see you and try to get down to speak to you, but you slip away too quickly for me. By the way, Marion, you know this man, don’t you? Jefferson, you know Miss Warren, surely.”

Marion looked up to meet the eyes of the same young man to whom Mr. Radnor had so casually introduced her a few minutes before, and she could not help seeing that his eyes were full of interest. Where had she seen those eyes before? Surely she must have seen him somewhere.

She looked up with a natural little smile to acknowledge the introduction, wondering what to say, suddenly embarrassed by the unexpected sight of Isabel Cresson and her gang bearing down upon them between two groups of people.

Panic took hold upon her again. No, she would not meet those girls now—they would be sure to humiliate her before this pleasant stranger!

The minister was talking in answer to something Lyman had said.

“Yes, I suppose you must have been away at that time. I hadn’t realized how long it had been. And you were but a boy when you left. Of course, you wouldn’t know the older members of the church well. But your father did. And this young woman’s father was one of the salt of the earth, one of our saints, you know. He has just recently been called home.”

Marion’s heart warmed and went on beating with something like its normal rhythm, and her eyes lost something of their panicky look. Somehow her glance was drawn involuntarily to the eyes of the stranger, and she saw that his face was full of sympathy. She gave him a trembling little smile of thanks. That was a beautiful thing for a young man to do, to seem to care about a stranger who was dead, a man whom he had never seen.

She would probably never see this young man again: he was likely a visitor in the town; but she would always remember his look that was a tribute to her father’s name.

But there was no time to summon words to answer. Those girls were close at hand, and she could see by the look in Isabel’s eyes that she was bearing down upon the young stranger as one hails an old friend.

She lifted her firm little chin and tried to smile and said hurriedly, “Please excuse me now. I’ve promised to help in the kitchen, and I think they must be waiting for me!” And she was gone, slipping between the people and gliding down the kitchen passageway out of sight.

Chapter 9

T
o the young man who watched her hasty retreat, she seemed a lovely thing. He noted the delicate profile of her face, the profile with which he had grown familiar in the Academy of Music, watching it to the accompaniment of the world’s great music exquisitely rendered. Somehow she seemed to him to be naturally associated with all things fine and exquisite and lovely.

He noticed, too, with brightening eye, the color of her plain little gown, deep crimson, like the shadows in old-fashioned damask roses, and how it brought out the shell-pink tinting of her cheeks and the clear, straight penciling of lovely brow. To the young man, the shy lifting of her serious eyes had satisfied all his expectations. If what Radnor had said about her coming from a common family had been true, where and how had such a lovely unspoiled spirit come up through the soil and rudeness of this present world? She was so very different from the girls he saw around him.

He turned about and faced Isabel Cresson, in blue and silver, with her long earrings and her ropes of pearl, her gold boy-bob, and her carmine lips and rouged cheeks. Isabel was vivacious and sparkling, cheerful and full of banter, bold and wise and able to take care of herself, like the present day and generation. But oh, what a contrast! The young man’s eyes followed wistfully the girl in the garnet satin and wished she would come back and talk to him.

“Hello, Jeff!” greeted Isabel. “Never see you anymore unless I come to church. You must have got converted over in Europe; you only seem to be on exhibition at a church social. Why don’t you come out to the country club and have a try at things? Got the darlingest floor now, the best dancing anywhere around, and the greatest orchestra! It’s precious! You haven’t heard it yet, have you? And you’ve been home almost a year! What did they do to you over there? Make an old man out of you? Have you forgotten our old friends? What’s that? You’re too busy? Oh, bologna! So’s your old man! Come on out on the links Sunday morning, and let’s play a few holes. Lately I’ve been shooting down the eighties! Not so bad, right? Come and try me, Jeffy! I’d like a chance to even up some of the old scores when you laid me out at tennis. Swing a racket anymore? We just got four more new courts. The turf is peachy. I can play a precious game at that, too. You ought to try me now! And I’ve just got the darlingest new racket. I’m dying to try it on somebody. What do you say? Is it a go Sunday morning? What? You got to go to church? Applesauce! Cut it out for once! Well then, make it six in the morning, and we’ll have coffee at the Club House and get back in plenty of time. Church isn’t till eleven. Or I’ll get up at five if you like that better. What? Why, Jeff Lyman! You’re not such an old granny yet that you won’t take refined exercise on Sunday? I’d like to know why? I thought you were progressive. Why, I thought you’d been abroad and got rid of all your narrow notions. They’re just traditions, anyway, handed down from your family. You know you don’t really think there can be anything wrong in going out into the lovely air, walking around after a ball a little while. Why nobody stops at anything like that anymore, at least not any of our old crowd. Why, the minister where friends of mine go even has church real early in the morning so his members can go and then have all the rest of the day for recreation. He says he thinks that’s what the Bible means. The Sabbath was made for man. You don’t really mean, Jeff, that you object yourself? Well, of course, in that case we might play Saturday. I have an engagement, but I’ll break it for you. Will you do that much for me?”

“I’m afraid not, Isabel,” said the young man amusedly. “I’ve something quite different in mind for that day, too, if it materializes. By the way, didn’t I hear somebody say you were going to sing tonight? That will be interesting. You used to have a fine voice when you were a kid. I suppose you’ve been studying hard?”

Isabel made a wry face.

“Who? Me? Did you ever know me to work hard at anything? Oh, I’ve been taking lessons, of course. Had a few from that stunning tenor. He’s an Italian, and he has the most gorgeous eyes. All the girls have a crush on him. But he’s married unfortunately, and his wife won’t give him a divorce. Isn’t that tragic? If I was married to a man that wanted his freedom, I’m sure I wouldn’t object. It seems common to hang on to a person when they want to be free. Don’t you think so? I think Europeans are so much more sophisticated in those things. Say, I’m wild to hear all about your experience in Siberia. Wasn’t it terrifying? But you were always so brave! Jeff, it’s just great to have you home again, and you really must come to the dance next Sunday night. It’s going to be simply darling. The decorations alone are costing—”

But Jefferson Lyman’s eyes were off at the other side of the room, where a girl in a satin dress the color of old-fashioned damask roses was arranging a table with cups and saucers and sugar bowls and cream pitchers.

“Excuse me a minute, Isabel,” said the young man suddenly. “I want to speak to someone.” And he disappeared among the crowd.

A sudden blank look overspread Isabel’s face as she watched him go.

“Oh, for cat’s sake!” she exclaimed to Aline Baines, who acted the part of shadow to Isabel. “How do you suppose he got to know her? Probably that fool Stewart introduced them. He hasn’t any more idea of the fitness of things! For a minister he’s the limit! I do wish we could go to another church! Now isn’t that just enough to make you pass out? And the poor dear doesn’t know the difference, of course! Men never do. Imagine! Marion Warren! Aline, we’ve simply got to rescue the poor man from her clutches. But imagine Marion Warren aspiring to Jeff Lyman! I ask you, did you ever hear the like? I didn’t think she had the nerve. But I saw her rolling those big old eyes of hers at him as we came up. Isn’t it vexatious? And he hadn’t told me yet when he was ready to play golf with me. Come, darling, we’ve got to go to the rescue.”

Isabel and her followers filed hastily through the crowd toward the table where Marion was arranging cups for the expeditious pouring of coffee when the time came to serve everyone at once. Lyman saw them coming, too, and he walked boldly up to Marion and spoke.

“Aren’t you going to be free after a while? I’d like to talk with you. I know you’ve been enjoying the concerts this winter, and I’m longing for a kindred spirit to talk them over with me.”

Marion looked up with a sudden light in her eyes. Could she believe her ears? Of course, he didn’t know what a very humble person she was or he wouldn’t likely have spoken to her, selecting her from the whole roomful of girls; but it was so good to have someone speak to her like that, as if she were an equal, as if her opinion on anything so great as music was of any worth!

“Why—” she hesitated shyly with a smile that lit her face into new beauty and fired the soul of Isabel Cresson, coming on in the distance, into new fury. “Why—I—really—I don’t know! But I’d love to,” she finished impulsively. “I’ll try. I’ve never had anyone to talk over the concerts with. It would be so nice.”

“Jeff! You didn’t say when you’d be ready to play golf!” broke in Isabel peremptorily. “I’m not going to let you get away without setting a definite date! Oh, is that you, Marion? I just met Mrs. Shuttle, and she wants you to go to the kitchen at once!”

The tone was most disdainful, as if Isabel were commanding a poor minion, but for some reason Marion was not frightened. The look in the eyes of the pleasant stranger who had just said he wanted to talk with her about the symphony concerts gave her strength, and she had a quick flash of revelation that God was answering her prayer and standing by her. She flashed a funny little smile at Isabel and answered.

“Oh, you’re mistaken, Isabel. Mrs. Shuttle has gone home to take care of her sick daughter, and I’m taking her place for a while. Perhaps you will go into the kitchen yourself and tell the girls I’m ready for them to bring the coffee urn now if they have it filled.”

The young man’s eyes were dancing with fun, but he stood quietly by watching this little tilt and thinking what a dead contrast these two girls were.

“Oh, really?” said Isabel scornfully. “No, I can’t be bothered. What do you think I am? A servant?” and she turned her back on Marion and tried to press her challenge for a game on Lyman.

Marion went on coolly placing coffee cups and giving low-toned orders to the aides who came back and forth bearing dishes, but she was wondering if she had been unchristian in her reply to Isabel. More than anything else she desired that her life should show forth the glory of God. She had a quiet feeling that God had stood by her, and she must not do the least little thing by word or deed, or even thought, that would not be according to His purpose for her life. Her life was meant to show forth His glory, not her own, and perhaps her tongue had gotten away with her. It would have done no harm for Isabel to think that she had scored a triumph.

Then she heard Lyman’s good-natured answer to Isabel.