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Silent Battle

<h2>XXIV DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND</h2></div> It was the middle of March, and fashionable New York, having been at least twice through its winter wardrobe, had gone southward for a change of speed. Aiken, Jekyl Island and Palm Beach had all done their share in the midwinter rejuvenation, but the particular set of people with which this story concerns itself were spending the last days of the Lenten season at the Dorsey-Martin’s place in Virginia. Dorsey-Martin was rich beyond the dreams of Alnaschar, but unlike the unfortunate brother of the barber, had not smashed the glassware in his basket until he had sold it to somebody else, when he was enabled to buy it in again at a much reduced rate. His particular specialty was not glassware, but railroads which, while equally fragile, could be put together again and be made (to all appearances) as good as new. The fruits of this fortunate talent were in evidence in his well-appointed house in New York with its collection of old English portraits, his palace at Newport just finished, and in his “shooting place” in Virginia. The Dorsey-Martins had “arrived.” They had been ten years in transit, and their ways had been devious, but their present welcome more than compensated for the pains and money which had been spent in the pilgrimage. The Virginia place, “Clovelly” adjoined that of the Ledyards, and consisted of a thousand acres of preserved woodland and dale, within a night’s journey of New York.[286] Autumn, of course, was the season when “Clovelly” was most in use, but spring frequently found it the scene of gay gatherings such as the present one, for in addition to the squash courts and swimming pool there was court tennis, with a marker constantly in attendance, a good stable, and hospitable neighbors. It was Nellie Pennington who had prevailed upon Phil Gallatin to accept Mrs. Dorsey-Martin’s invitation, for she knew that Jane Loring was staying at “Mobjack,” the Ledyards’ place, and she hoped that she might yet be the means of bringing the two together. Her interview with Phil had been barren of results, except to confirm her in the suspicion that Nina Jaffray held the key to the puzzle. Nina, who had been one of the early arrivals at “Clovelly,” had so far eluded all her snares; and Nellie Pennington was now convinced that here was a foeman worthy of her subtlest metal. She enjoyed the game hugely, as, apparently, did Nina, and their passages at arms were as skillful (and as ineffectual) as those of two perfectly matched maîtres d’escrime. Nina knew that Nellie Pennington suspected her of mischief, but she also knew that it was unlikely that any one would ever know, unless from Jane, just what that mischief had been. The arrival of Phil Gallatin, while it gave Nina happiness, made her keep a narrower guard against the verbal thrusts of her playful adversary. Phil Gallatin had regained his poise and reached “Clovelly” in a jubilant frame of mind. Two days ago Henry K. Loring had agreed to a conference. Mr. Leuppold, more suave, more benign, more patronizing than ever, had called and told Gallatin of this noteworthy act of condescension on the part of his client. Nothing, of course, need be expected from such a meeting in the way of concessions, but men of the world like Mr.[287] Leuppold and Mr. Gallatin knew that co-operation was, after all, the soul of business, and that one caught many more flies with treacle than with vinegar. He continued for half an hour in this vein, platitudinizing and begging the question at issue while Gallatin listened and assented politely, without giving any further intimation of a course of action for Kenyon, Hood and Gallatin. But when the great lawyer had departed, Gallatin went to the window and surveyed the steel gray waters of the Hudson with a gleaming eye, and his face wore a smile which would not depart. Sanborn’s case would never go to court. The vestiges of this good humor still remained upon his face and in his demeanor all the morning, which had been spent in a run with the Warrenton pack. It was so long since he had ridden to hounds that he had almost forgotten the joy of it, but he was well mounted and finished creditably. Nina Jaffray showed the field her heels for most of the way and Gallatin pounded after her, his muscles aching, determined not to be outridden by a woman. In the first check, she drew her horse alongside of his and smiled at him. “Ready to let me announce it yet, Phil?” she asked. Gallatin just then was wondering whether his leg grip would last out the day. “Announce what, Nina?” he asked. “Our engagement,” she returned with a smile. “It’s almost time, you know.” “Oh, go as far as you like.” “Don’t laugh!” “I’ve got to—you make me so happy.” “Oh, you can joke if you like now, but you’ll have to marry me some day.” [288] “Oh, will I? Why?” “Because you like me. Friendship subdues even Time, Phil. I’m willing to wait.” And when he looked at her, at loss for a reply, the hounds gave tongue again and they were off at a full gallop. He couldn’t help admiring her this morning. The easy unconventionality of her speech, her attitude of good fellowship, were a part of the setting. This was the scene in which she always appeared to the best advantage and she took the center of the stage with an assurance which showed how well she knew her lines. It was Nina’s brush, of course, for she had brought down her own best hunter for the occasion and was in at the death with the Huntsman and Master of the Hounds, while Gallatin trailed in with the Field. And in the ride homeward Phil found himself jogging along comfortably at Nina’s side. “Phil,” she said again, when the others had ridden on ahead. “I hope you won’t laugh at me any more. It’s indecent. I never laugh at you.” “Oh, don’t you? You’re never doing anything else.” “It seems so, doesn’t it? That’s my pose, Phil. I’m really very much in earnest about things. I don’t suppose I ever could learn to love anybody—the faculty is lacking, somehow; but I think you know that, even if I didn’t love you, I’d never love any one else, whatever happened, and I’d be true as Death.” “Yes, I know that. But——” “But—?” she repeated. “But—I’m not going to marry,” he laughed. She shrugged. “Oh, yes, you will—some day.” “Why do you think so?” “Because men of your type always do.” [289] “My type?” “Yes, they usually marry late and beneath them. I’m trying to save you from that mistake.” He smiled at her saucy profile. “Marrying one’s equal doesn’t always mean equality.” “You were always a dreamer, Phil.” “I think I’ll always dream then, Nina,” he broke in abruptly. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that you’ve got to marry somebody—anybody—just because you’ve reached the marriageable age. That’s the trap that catches most of us. Marry for love, Nina. You’ve got that much capital to begin on. Love doesn’t die a sudden death.” “Not unless it’s killed. That happens, you know.” “You can’t kill it easily. You may scoff at it, deny it, wound it, but it doesn’t die, Nina.” She turned and examined him narrowly, then shifted her bridle to the other hand and ran her crop along her horse’s neck. “You know, Jane Loring is going to marry Coley.” “What has that to do with what we’re talking about?” he said quickly. “Oh, nothing. Only I thought you’d like to know it. You’ll have a chance to congratulate them to-night.” “To-night? Where?” “They’re at the Ledyards’, but they’re dining at ‘Clovelly.’” “Oh!” “So, if you’re going to put them asunder, you’d better do it to-night or forever hold your peace.” He smiled around at her calmly. “Nothing doing, Nina. You missed it that time. The only things I’m putting asunder are a railroad and[290] an omnivorous coal company. That takes about all my energy.” “Phil,” she put in thoughtfully after a moment. “What?” “What’s the use of waiting? You’re going to marry me in the end, you know.” “Oh, am I?” “Yes. You can’t afford to refuse. I’ve got the money, position, and father has influence. That means power for a man of your ability. You’re getting ambitious. I can tell that by the way you’re sticking at things. There’s no telling what you mightn’t accomplish with the help I can bring you. Oh, you could get along alone, of course. But you’d waste a lot of time. You’d better think about it seriously.” “I have thought about it. I’m really beginning to believe you mean it.” “Yes, I do mean it. I’ve decided to marry you. And you know I’ve never yet failed at anything I’ve undertaken.” She was quite in earnest and he looked at her amusedly. “Then I suppose I’d better surrender at discretion.” “Yes, I’m sure you had.” “Isn’t there a loophole?” “None, whatever. I’m your super-man, Phil. You might just as well go at once and order your wedding garments and the ring. It will save us endless discussions—and you know I hate discussions. They’re really very wearing. Besides, O Phil!”—She laid the end of her crop on his arm—“just think what a lot of fun you’ll get out of letting Jane know how little you care!” Gallatin didn’t reply and in a moment they had[291] reached the stables of “Clovelly” where the others were dismounting. In his room, to which he had gone in search of his pipe, Gallatin paused at the window, looking out over the winter landscape, thinking. Why not? Why shouldn’t he marry her? It would be a cold-blooded business, of course, but he called to mind a dozen marriages of reason that had turned out satisfactorily, and as many marriages for love which had ended in the ditch. This life was a pleasant kind of poison, the luxury and ease, the careless gayety of these pleasant people who moved along the line of least resistance, taking from life only what suited their moods, living only for the moment, sure that the future was amply provided for. He had turned his back on this world for a while, and had lived in another, a sterner world, with which this one had little in common. A place like this might be his, with its broad acres and stables, horses and motor cars, a life like this for the asking. A marriage of reason! With Nina Jaffray at the helm of his destiny and hers. God forbid! He had laid his own course now, but he had weathered the rocks and shoals and the rough water in sight did not dismay him. Marriage! He wanted none of it with Nina or any other. This kind of life was not for him unless he won it for himself, for only then would he be fit to live it. And while he found it good to be away from his rooms in the house in —— Street, good to be away from the office for a while, the atmosphere of “Clovelly” was redolent of his early days of indolence and undesire and he suddenly found himself less tolerant of the failings of these people than he had ever been before. He hadn’t realized what his work had meant until he had this idleness to compare it with. [292] Jane! He had been able to think less of Jane Loring in the fever of work, but here at “Clovelly,” among the people they both knew, where her name was frequently mentioned, he found it less easy to forget her, and the imminence of the hour when he must see her again gave him a qualm. He lighted his pipe and started downstairs toward the gunroom, where the guests were recounting the adventures of the morning over tobacco and high-balls. Nellie Pennington, who had an instinct for the psychological moment, met him and led him to a lounge at the end of the hall. “Well,” she said, “are you prepared to give a full account of yourself?” “An empty account, dear Mother Confessor. I’m neither sinful nor virtuous.” “I’m not so sure about that.” “About which?” “About either. You’re unpleasantly self-righteous and criminally unamiable.” “Oh, Nellie, to whom?” “To me. Also, you’re stupid!” “Thanks. That’s my misfortune. What else?” “That’s enough to begin on. I could pull your ears in chagrin. You’ve treated my advice with the scantest ceremony, made ducks and drakes of the opportunities I’ve provided, and lastly you’ve gone and gotten Nina Jaffray talked about——” “Nellie! Please! I can’t permit——” “Oh, fudge, Phil. Nina is well able to look after herself. It isn’t of Nina I’m thinking.” “Who then?” “You! You silly goose. There isn’t any spectacle in the world half so ludicrous as a chivalrous man defending[293] the fame of a woman who doesn’t care whether she’s defended or not.” “I don’t see——” “I know you don’t. That’s why I’m telling you.” “But Nina, does care.” “Yes, but not precisely in the way that you suppose. Fortune gave her some excellent cards—and she played them.” “Please be more explicit.” “Very well, then. Girls of Nina’s type would rather have their name coupled unpleasantly with that of the man they care for than not coupled with it at all.” “Nonsense, Nina doesn’t care——” “Oh, yes, she does. She wants to marry you. She has told you so, hasn’t she?” Phil Gallatin looked at her quickly with eyes agog. Such powers of divination were uncanny. “She has proposed to you once—twice—how many times, Phil?” “None—not at all,” he stammered, while she smiled and shrugged her incredulity. “If I didn’t know already, I need only a glance at your face to be convinced of it.” “How did you know?” “How does a woman know anything? By virtue, my friend, of those invisible spiritual fibers which she thrusts in all directions and upon which she receives impressions. That’s how she knows.” “You guessed?” “Call it that, if you like. I guessed. I guessed this, also: that Nina wanted Jane to believe this story to be true. It didn’t need much to convince her. That little Nina was willing to provide.” “What?” [294] “Nina admitted that the story was true,” she repeated. Gallatin rose to his feet and stared at his companion like one possessed. “Nina admitted it! You’re dreaming.” “No. I’m very wide awake. I wish you were.” “It’s preposterous. Whatever put such an idea into your head?” “My antennæ.” “Nonsense!” “Listen. Nina called on Jane a while ago. They had a long talk. Something happened—something that has interrupted friendly relations. They don’t speak now. What do you suppose that talk was about? The weather? Or a plan for the amelioration of the condition of homeless cats? Oh, you know a lot about women, Phil Gallatin!” she finished scornfully. “I know enough,” he muttered. “You think you do,” she put in quickly. “The Lord give me patience to talk to you! For unbiased ignorance, next to the callous youth who thinks he knows it all, commend me to the modern Galahad! The one only thinks he knows, but the other doesn’t want to know. He’s content to believe every woman irreproachable by the mere virtue of being a woman. Nina Jaffray has played her cards with remarkable cleverness, but she has been quite unscrupulous. It’s time you knew it, and it’s time that Jane did. I would tell her if I thought she would believe me, but I fancy I’ve meddled enough.” Gallatin took two or three paces up and down and then sat down beside her. “It isn’t meddling, Nellie,” he said quietly. “You’ve done your best and I’m grateful to you. Unfortunately, you can’t help me any longer. It’s too late. I did what I[295] could. No girl who had ever loved a man could let him go so easily, could doubt him so willingly. It was all a mistake. It’s better to find it out now than too late.” Nellie Pennington didn’t reply. She only looked down at her muddy boots with the cryptic smile that women wear when they wish to conceal either their ignorance or their wisdom. “Did you know that Jane was dining here to-night?” she asked. “Yes,” he replied. “Nina told me. I’m sorry.” “It doesn’t matter in the least. The world is big enough for everybody. Jane evidently thinks so, too. Otherwise she wouldn’t be coming.” “Does she know I’m here?” “Oh, yes, she knows that Nina is, too.” Gallatin looked out of the window. “You don’t understand women, do you, Phil? Admit that and I’ll tell you why she’s coming.” He smiled. “I do admit it. You’re all in league with the devil.” “She’s coming here because she wants to show you how little she cares, because she has a morbid curiosity to see you and Nina together, and lastly,” at this she leaned toward him with her lips very close to his ear, “and lastly—because she loves you more madly than ever!” He had hardly recovered from the shock of surprise at this announcement when he realized that Nellie Pennington had suddenly risen and fled. This preliminary step taken, Nellie Pennington retreated upstairs in the most amiable of moods, to dress for luncheon. If Nina was going to play the game with marked cards, it was quite proper that Phil be permitted the use of the code. She had at least provided him with[296] food for reflection, which, while not quite pleasant to take, would serve as nutrition for his failing optimism. And somewhere in the back of her head a plan was being born, unpalpable as yet and formless, but which persisted in growing in spite of her. <hr class="chap" /> [297] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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