The Adventures of a Modest Man. Robert W. ChambersЧитать онлайн книгу.
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The second day we ran out of the storm. I remember on that day that I wore a rather doggy suit of gray—a trifle too doggy for a man of my years. In my button-hole reposed a white carnation, and as I strolled into the smoking-room I was humming under my breath an air from "Miss Helyet"—a thing I had not thought of in twenty years.
"Well, upon my word!" exclaimed a man who looked up from his novel as I entered the doorway. "Gad! You haven't changed in twenty years!—except that your moustache is——"
"Sure! And my temples, Williams! Besides, I have two grown-up daughters aboard! How are you, anyway, you Latin Quarter come-back?"
We settled ourselves, hands still warmly clasped.
"You're not going back to Paris?" I asked.
"Why, man, I live there."
"By George, so you do! I forgot."
There was a silence—that smiling, retrospective silence which ends inevitably in a sigh not entirely painful.
"Are any of the old men left there?" I asked.
"Some."
"I—I suppose the city has changed a lot. Men who've been over since, say so."
"It hasn't changed, radically."
"Hasn't it, Williams?" I asked wistfully.
"No. The old café is exactly the same. The Luxembourg Quarter will seem familiar to you——"
"I'm not going there," I said hastily.
He smiled; I could see him doing it, askance. But my features remained dignified and my attitude detached.
"I wonder," I began carelessly, "whether——"
"She got married," he said casually; "I'm glad. She was a sweet little thing."
"She was exceedingly charming," I said, selecting a cigar. "And the other?"
"Which?"
"I forget her name."
"Oh, you mean Delancy's?"
"Yes."
"I don't know whatever became of her," he said.
"Whatever became of Delancy?"
"Oh, he did what we all usually do—he came back, married, and spent the better part of his life in trying to keep his daughter from marrying that young Harroll."
"Sir Peter's son?"
"Yes. I was a guest at the Delancy's at the time, and I nearly died. Harroll confided in me, Catharine Delancy confided in me, John Delancy told me his woes. It's an amusing story. Do you want to hear it?"
"Go ahead," I said. "My sympathies are already with Delancy. I've a pair of daughters myself, and I'm trying to shoo away every sort of man and keep 'em for myself a little longer."
Williams smiled:
"Well, you listen to what those two did to John Delancy. It was some."
I lit my cigar; he lit his; and I settled back, looking at him attentively as he began with a wave of his gloved hand, a story of peculiar interest to a man with two unusually attractive daughters:
Now, although Harroll had been refused a dozen times—not by Miss Delancy, but by her father—the young man's naturally optimistic spirits suffered only temporary depression; and a few evenings later he asked for her again, making it a bakers' dozen—an uncanny record.
"No," said Mr. Delancy.
"Won't you let me have her when I become tenth vice-president of the Half-Moon Title Guarantee and Trust——"
"No, I won't."
"When will you let me try for her?"
There was no reply.
"Well, sir," said the young man cheerfully, "there must be some way, of course."
"Really, Jim, I don't see what way," said Mr. Delancy, without emotion. "I don't want you for a son-in-law, and I'm not going to have you. That's one of the reasons I allow you the run of the house. My daughter sees too much of you to care for you. It's a theory of my own, and a good one, too."
"Why don't you want me for a son-in-law?" asked the young man, for the hundredth time.
"Can you give me one single reason why I should want you?" asked Mr. Delancy wearily.
Harroll stood buried in meditation for a few moments. "No," he said, "I can't recall any important reasons at the moment."
"I can supply you with one—your sense of honor—but it doesn't count in this case, because you wouldn't be in my house if you didn't have any."
Harroll looked at the fire.
"I've told you a hundred times that when my little girl marries, she marries one of her own kind. I don't like Englishmen. And that is all there is to it, Jim."
"Don't you like me?"
"I'm not infatuated with you."
"Well," said Harroll, slowly pacing the rug in front of the fire, "it's curious, isn't it?—but, do you know, I think that I am going to marry Catharine one of these days?"
"Oh, I think not," replied Mr. Delancy amiably. "And perhaps this is a good opportunity to say good-by for a while. You know we go to Palm Beach to-morrow?"
"Catharine told me," said the young man, placidly. "So I've wired for quarters at The Breakers—for two weeks."
The two men smiled at one another.
"You take your vacation late," said Mr. Delancy.
"Not too late, I trust."
"You think you can afford Palm Beach, Jim?"
"No; but I'm going."
Mr. Delancy rose and stood thoughtfully twirling his monocle by the string. Then he threw away his cigar, concealed a yawn, and glanced gravely at the clock on the mantel.
"May I go in and say good-night to Catharine, sir?" asked young Harroll.
Mr. Delancy looked bored, but nodded civilly enough.
"And, Jim," he drawled, as the young man started toward the drawing-room, "I wouldn't go to Palm Beach if I were you."
"Yes, you would, sir—if you were I."
"Young man," said Mr. Delancy, mildly, "I'm damned if I have you for a son-in-law! Good-night."
They shook hands. Harroll walked into the drawing-room and found it empty. The music-room, however, was lighted, and Catharine Delancy sat tucked up in a deep window-seat, studying a map of southern Florida and feeding bonbons to an enormous white Persian cat.
"Jim," she said, raising her dark eyes as he sauntered up, "you and father have lately fallen into the disreputable habit of sitting behind closed doors and gossiping. You have done it thirteen times in three months. Don't be such pigs; scandal, like other pleasures, was meant to be shared."
At a gesture of invitation he seated himself beside her and lifted the Persian pussy to his lap.
"Well," she inquired, "are you really going with us?"
"I can't go when you do, but I'm going to The Breakers for a week or two—solely to keep an eye on your behavior."
"That is jolly!" she said, flushing with pleasure. "Was father pleased when you told him?"
"He didn't say he was pleased."
"He is always reticent," she said, quickly. "But won't it be too jolly for words! We'll travel miles and miles together in bicycle-chairs, and we'll yacht and bathe and ride and golf, and catch amber-jack