The Tryst (Annotated) (Grace Livingston Hill Book) (17 page)

Marjorie Horliss-Cole snuggled closer to Patty and lifted her head curiously to watch. 

“You're an awfully darling girl,” she said contentedly. “I think we're going to get on together all right. Perhaps you're going to understand me. Nobody understands me but Dad, and he's always too busy to bother. Aunt Sylvia does some crazy things, but I think she landed on her feet this time when she took a notion to you.” 

She slipped her arm comfortably around Patty's waist and so together in the window-seat the two girls watched the wonder of the moon as it rose over the mountains. 

To Marjorie whose acquaintance with the moon was scant, save viewed from the piazza of a seaside hotel, or glimpsed through the glass of a limousine, it was like a miracle, and for a time it drew her out of herself. To Patty it was a long-loved joy that always stirred her to the depths and made her think of those she loved who were far away. They watched in silence for a time, and then as the great silver disk rose majestically and poured a glorifying light upon the plumes of the pines in the valley, flooding the sky with wide brightness, they gradually fell to talking again as any girls in a moonlit window-seat will talk, and forgot that they were in any different relation to one another than just friends. 

Matters were looking most hopeful toward the furthering of Miss Sylvia Cole's plans, and she returned with a look of satisfaction from a scouting trip to the door across the hall, where she had stood for some minutes listening to the low confidential tones that rose and fell pleasantly. And then the very next morning something happened that upset the whole thing, although of course Miss Cole hadn't an idea of it and wouldn't have understood if she had. For Patty, standing on a little upper balcony that opened off the end of their hall, taking deep breaths and drinking in the beauty of the morning, suddenly saw the cab arrive from the station, and a single passenger alight. With scarlet cheeks she fled to her room to consider, for that man with the broad shoulders and the fine determined set of head could be no other than John Treeves. And now, what should she do? She was expected to go downstairs as a cousin of the much-admired Miss Horliss-Cole, and as such would of course be introduced to the nephew of old Calvin Treeves; for she had been in the hotel long enough to hear many stories of the fabulous wealth of the old man, and the famous bravery of the young one. And to meet her old friend, John Treeves, in that way was unthinkable. Masquerading as somebody else! He would recognize her surely when she spoke. She would not be able to keep the friendliness out of her voice. She knew she was as transparent as glass when it came to a thing like that. Moreover, it seemed to her truth-loving nature like acting a lie. It might be for a good reason perhaps, but it was a lie all the same, and she could not get the consent of herself to enter into it. It was quite a different thing to go among a lot of strangers by a name that was not hers, because, as a sort of servant it had been nothing to those people by what name she was called. She was not expected to be anything to them. And the people with whom she had to do all knew that Edith Fisher was not her name, and it was with their full knowledge and consent that it was used. But here she was given an opportunity to have her old friend back again, only she would have to be another person from the one he had known, and she did not care for that. If she could not meet him frankly as herself she would rather keep him as a friend of the past and not meet him at all. So she decided that somehow she would keep utterly out of his way. 

Watching her opportunity, for it was still early in the morning and Miss Cole was not yet awake, she sped by a circuitous route to the village store, where she purchased the most ornate veil that she could find. It was not at all beautiful; but it was the best there was for purposes of disguise. Behind this she retired quickly as soon as she had reached a sheltering tree where she could adjust it to her hat and then walked on more comfortably, feeling that not even her own family would recognize her quickly with that flaunting butterfly over one eye and the sunflower scrawling its petals across her lips. This veil would help during the daytime in case Marjorie Horliss-Cole insisted on a walk or a drive. But what should she do for evening when she would be expected to don an evening gown and go down to dinner, remaining afterward for whatever festivities the place afforded. Well, she would have to think a way out of that, and perhaps John Treeves would not stay long. He had gone away before, and he might go again. But even as she thought it, a little choke came in her throat, for she longed inexpressibly to have a good talk with her old-time friend, and sometimes the temptation to just tell him all her trouble as if he were her brother almost overcame her. Still, she knew she must not, for that would be a breach of loyalty to the family. No, she must endure it alone. Perhaps sometime, somewhere, when life had cleared up for her, she would meet him again and really know him as a friend. But that could never be if she met him now under a disguise, for he would have good cause to think her untrue, and that must not be. So Patty set herself to plan a day in which the two women under her care should be entirely satisfied, and yet she should be allowed to remain utterly in the background. 

John Treeves had dropped all his plans in response to a cunningly worded telegram and had come to what he supposed was his uncle's death-bed. But it was a very lively corpse that greeted him, poking out a withered claw from among a mountain of pillows and cackling like an old crow in his glee over seeing him again. 

“Well, well, so you did have a little feeling in your heart for your old uncle, didn't you?” 

There was a chirrup to the voice that suggested anything but nearing the other world, and John Treeves's sympathy was slightly dashed as he noted the wicked twinkle in the bad old man's eyes, but he tried to be duly solicitous and succeeded in making the old man feel so well that he declared he must get up at once; and the nephew began to realize slowly that the telegram had been a ruse to get him back. He was annoyed for he had deeper things to think of than being the toy of an old child, and life in a fashionable winter resort had little attraction for him. So, while Patty was studying hard how to avoid him, he was spending much thought in how he might avoid meeting any of the people of the hotel, and above all how he might get away from this most uncongenial atmosphere and give himself to the new plans that were forming in his mind. He agreed quite readily to a drive in his uncle's car, thinking that would be a more pleasing way of passing the morning than housed in the hotel rooms, and might also be more conducive to agreeable conversation, for the old man would be less likely to burst forth into a rage out in the open. 

Calvin Treeves was pleased as a child while they prepared him for his drive, and was really quite pleasant and agreeable most of the way. Fortunately for Patty's peace of mind they chose a different drive from the one which she and Marjorie had taken on horseback, and returned to the hotel half an hour ahead of the riders so that they did not come into contact. The old man chose to have lunch in his apartment and kept his nephew close at his side, as though he were afraid to trust him out of his sight. 

But after lunch Calvin Treeves had himself established on the wide couch for a nap, announcing to his nephew: 

“Now, you go off and do what you please this afternoon; rest or read or ride, if you like. They have good horses here, and Hespur will give the order for you whenever you are ready to go. This evening Fm going down to dinner and we’ll meet some of the best people. There are some stunning women I want you to know, and some worthwhile men. There's Wentforth Gaines, and Archie Van Helden and Bertie Schuyler. They are all good sports, in for polo and golf and the like and they'll be glad to introduce you to our set. You will be accepted, you know, and anything you want goes. I want you to understand that you are to be a leader. There won't be any disposition to question it, you know. I have more money than anyone else here -- though they are all pretty well fixed as far as that goes — so you just go ahead and cut all the figure you like. I can see you don't need to be taught how. You've got poise and assurance and all that and I've fixed it up so they will receive you with open arms. The women, poor fools, are all ready to fall on your neck!” 

But his garrulity was interrupted by a sudden wheeling of the victim and a sharp set of his jaw that Hespur could easily see betokened opposition. He hovered behind the young man and murmured apologetically: 

“I wouldn't cross him, sir, if I was you. He's that hard to control--!” 

A wave of something else swept over John Treeves's face. Was it gentleness, or more like self-control at a reminder? He gave the old servant a gleam of recognition as he turned to his uncle, and began to speak firmly: 

“Uncle Calvin, I think perhaps we'd better understand each other right at the start. I really cannot stay here more than another day, and it would not be worth while getting acquainted with a lot of new people whom I shall probably never see again. I came on to see you, and I would rather just stay and visit with you when you are rested. I’ll do very well while you are sleeping, for I have a good many things to think about and plans to make.” 

The old man's eyes gleamed with satisfaction: 

“That's just it,” he said with a grim smile. “You don’t need to make any plans, Dunham. I've decided to take you over and keep you with me. I like you and I need you, and I'm going to put you into the best society and give you all opportunities just as if you were my son. I'm not sure, but I'll adopt you.”

John Treeves had been sitting across the room, but now he rose quietly and took a step nearer, and there was in his tone a quiet dignity and firmness that penetrated even the smug self-satisfaction of the rich old beggar, as he said: 

“Uncle Calvin, that is quite impossible. I do not belong in your world and never did. I have my work to do and I have fully decided what it shall be. It is as far as possible from the kind of life you are outlining for me. I could not ever consent to be a parasite, even though your offer had come long ago. My mother did not bring me up to be that sort of thing.” 

The old man's eyes twinkled with satisfaction as he eyed the strong young fellow and recognized the manly ring in his voice. Not for an instant did he doubt that he would be the final winner in this argument, but he rather admired his nephew for making this protest. He seemed all the more worth winning. 

“Of course I suppose you are feeling peeved yet about the way I treated your mother, and I'm sorry I couldn't have seen things this way sooner” -- there was not the slightest trace of sorrow in the dry old selfish voice – “but if she was as good as you say she was she never would have been one to hold a grudge nor to stand in your way, and very likely she considered some such outcome as this in the future when she told you to be sure and forgive me --” There was a suaveness in his tone that was fairly infuriating to the loyal son's soul, but he controlled himself well. 

“Uncle Calvin, I have forgiven you,” he said, turning away and looking out the window at the calm mountains in the distance, “but you will give me fresh cause to be righteously angry if you make any more such insinuations about my mother. You seem to think she had great cunning and worldly wisdom, and as you did not know her sweet life and high-minded standards you are perhaps not able to comprehend how utterly distasteful it would have been to her to have her son live such a life as you propose.”

“That’s all very pretty talk, young man,” sneered the old reprobate, “but when it comes right down to living almost everybody likes a good birth. But don't get on your high horse. Wait till you've had a little taste of it. Then we'll see what you say.” 

“Uncle Calvin, I must leave here on the afternoon train to-morrow at the very latest.”

“Tut! Tut! Go and rest awhile and we'll talk about it again,” said the old man crossly. “I warn you my temper is getting up, and I won't stand everything. It doesn't do to trifle with me.” 

“I'm not trifling, Uncle, and I'm sorry to oppose your plans because you are sick, but there is no use talking about the matter any longer. My plans for life are made and I must get away and go to work. I cannot remain longer than to-morrow!” 

“What have you got in your mind?” snarled the old man. “Out with it! Perhaps I can help it on.” 

“Hardly, Uncle Calvin,” said the young man, his face softening. “It is something I must work out for myself. I’ve decided to go on with the ministry in some form or other. I may go as a missionary, or do mission work in the city or out West. Fm not just decided about details yet.” 

The old man suddenly jerked himself into a sitting posture with his eyes snapping and a sneer on his rank old lips: 

“Going to be a molly-coddle after all? Well, I rather guess not. My brother's child is never going to disgrace the family that way. I'll put a stop to that. Of course it's only a fool whim and you'd soon get over it after you tried it awhile, but I don't care to have you waste that time. I'm getting near the end and I want you with me and want to train you up to take my place --!”   

“NEVER!” exclaimed John Treeves involuntarily with a visible shrinking from the thought. 

“W-WHAT?” shrieked the old man. 

“I said, never!” repeated the young man more gently, but still with that firm set of jaw. 

“Well, well, -- now I'll tell you what I was going to do, young man. I was going to make you my HEIR! Do you understand that? Now haven't you any obligation toward me?” 

“No,” said John Treeves, steadily looking him in the eye. “No, because someone else got ahead of you and made me heir to a far greater estate than you could possibly leave!” 

“That’s a L-I-E!” yelled the enraged old aristocrat. “I guess you don't know how many millions I have! I guess you don't know that I can practically buy anything I want. I guess you don't know – I--I—you—you--young r-r-r-r-r-RASCAL! Who is it that has dared to make my nephew his heir and try to get him away from me? Who is it I say? ANSWER me!”