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Beatrix Randolph

Beatrix Randolph image
Parent Issue
Day
25
Month
March
Year
1891
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

One forenoon, as Wallie Dinsmore was Beated in his study, with his slippered feet pointed toward the fireplace, the newspaper across his kneeeand the African lémur mnnching a lump of rogar on his shoulder, he heard the door bell ring. He rubbed his f orehead between his eyes and uncrossed and recrossed his extended legs by wa y of aronsing himself , f or his Berenity during the last half honr had been gradually verging toward the soporific stago. A few moments af terward there was a knock at the stady door, and Wallie, resting his chim on the apex of a triangle madeby his elbows and joined hands, said, "Corne in!" The visitor entered, and coming np to Wallie's chair took the paw of the lemur in his hand and shook it. The lemnr chattered and Wallie looked up. "Hullo, Geoffrey," he said, "I was just thinking about a cottage at Newport. Sit down and let me teil you my idea. Have a cigarette - or a cigar?" "Have you aay smoking tobáceo?" retumed Geoffrey, taking a pipe from bis pocket. "I guess youll find some Cavendish in the jar. You know where the matches are." Geo3re3T snpplied himself, and then drew a chair to the other side of the fireplace and smoked for several minutes in silence. At length he said, "Were you at the opera last nightf "No. What was it?" " 'Semiramide.' " "Goodr" "Yes." "Yonr theatre seems to snit her,"1 Wallie remarkod. "By the way, there must be a column about last night in the paper. Yes: here it is. 'No such rendering of the music of this part has ever' - and so forth and so on. She's a big success." "She deservea it, doesn't she?" "She can sing, sir - she can - sing," replied Wallie, with the quiet slowness that was bis only form of emphasis. "She puzzles me!" "What's the puzzle?" "If she's been through the wars, where are her scars? She looks fresh as a lily and sweet as new mown hay. Where's the cloven foot?" "There is none," said Geoffrey, with a laconic conviction. "So lm inclined to think, and so I'm pnzzled." "There wül be stories about any woman," rejoined Geoffrey; "mostly lies." "But some of the European stories about Mlle. Maraña - well, they would , lead one to suppose that she had changed her nature, and everything else except her name, when she landed in thii country." "Well, since her name is the only thing she could change, it follows - And our opinión should be f onned on what we see and know, not on hearsay." "You are only quoting what I said to you when you didn"t want to come to the dinner," said Wallie, with a chuckle. "To be sure, I hadn't seen her then." "I thought you had seen her abroad." ; "Well - I mean I hadn't seen her ' f ore in New York." "There has been nothing against her since she carne?" "No; on the contrary I think she has had the opportunity of refusing several eligible offers, and she has done so for all the world like a trne American girl." "Who wero the men?" "That would be telling. Why do yon ask?" As Geoffrey made no reply , but smoked with a good deal of sternness, Wallie continued af ter a while, "I suppose your wisdom teeth aro cut, yotmg man?' "She's a lady, and I - wish her treated as such, that's all!" said Geoffrey. "What were you saying about a-cottage at Newport?" Before this topic could be gone into the friends were interrupted by the entrance of another caller - Mr. Alexander Eandolph. "Who the devil is he?" demanded Geoffrey, knocking out his pipe. "Never met him till this autumn. He won't hurt you. Sit stilL" "Ah, good morning, Mr. Dinsmore," said Bandolph, entering in state with his gray eyebrows and imperial; "I can remain but a moment." Here he caught sight of Bellingham. "Am I in the ■way?' "In the way of making the acquaintanceof Mr. Bellingham- Mr. Randolph," said Wallie. "Sit down, gentlemen. Have_a_cigar, Mr. Randolph?". 'TíEaffiT you- never BéTóre luncheon. To come to the point at once - I ain of a cominittee of gentlemen to extend a complimentary breakfast to Gen. Iñigo on the 14th of this month. Can we count upon your attendance?" "The 14th? Let me Bee," said Wallie, opening a drawer in his desk and taking out a memorandum book. "Yes, there seems to be nothing on that day. Mnch obliged to you and the committee, Mr. Randolph." "The houris 1 o'clock," said Randolph. "Gen. Iñigo deserves a breakfast," Wallie remarked. "He deserves toree meáis a day. He has catered very well for us." "That seems to be the general impression," said Randolph, giving a twist to his eyebrow. "We were just discussing the prima donna," Wallie contánued. "You know her, of course, Mr. Randolph?" "I - ah - I have - that is, slightly. I have heard her sing; I may have met her socially; one ineots so many people it is difficult to say." He coloid while he spoke and seemed i good deal confused. "She's a very pretty woman, and seems to be as virtuous as she is pretty, Btrange to say," the other went on. "There's a discrepancy between her conïuct and her history." Mr. Randolph colored still more. "I - I'm an old fashioned man, sir." he said, whisking a silk handkerchief out of his coat tail pocket and passing it over his forehead. "In my day we - we took the virtue of a lady for granted; and I must say I - of course, I have no right to be the chanipion of this lady, sir, but" He stopped, and Bellingham said: "Any man has a right to respect a woman he believes houest, and to make j others do so in his presence. If that's old fashioned, Mi-. Randolph, count me inr "Thank you, sir," returned the other. He rose and put back his handkerchief in his pocket. "I must take leave of you, Mr. Dinsmore," he added. "A man like myself has a great many affairs on hand. We shall look for you on the 14th, then. Good morning: good morning, Mr. - ah - Bellingham. " "I am more puzzled than ever," said W;tllie, when Randolph was gone. "What now?' "In the first place he couldn't quite make up his inind whether he'd met her or not; then he got flurried because I suggested there had been stories about her; and, finally, he took to flight rather than discnss her any more. Now if he ! doesn't know her, why shotüd he flare up so about her? and if he does know her, why does he pretend he doesn't?" "He's an old fashioned" - beganGeoffrey. "That's gammon," interrupted Wallie, "and you know it! The f all of man is an older fashion than Mr. Randolph. Did any sane man, young or old, ever get into a state of mind because the correctness of an opera singer he didn't know was called in question? I can't make it out - unless he means to marry her!" This speculation was received by Geoffrey in dead silence, and for a considerable time neither of the men said anything. At last the question of the cottage at Newport was brought up once more and canvassed until they parted. Bellingham walked slowly toward Madison square, with Mr. Randolph, among other things, on his mind. Still i meditating he turned up Fifth avenue, 1 and bef ore long f ound himself opposite iMlle. Maraña' s hotel. It occurred to him that he had never yet called on her in her own apartments, and he resolved to repair that neglect. Accordingly he went to the office and inquired if she j were in. The clerk glanced at the keyboard and said "Tes" abstractedly. Bellingham got into the elevator and went up. The passageway, after the bright sunlight of the street, seemed rather dark. Not knowing which way the numbers ran, he remained for a moment where the elevator lef t him. Just then a door was opened on the right, a gentleman came out, and advanced along the passage toward him. When about ten paces ' distant, he stopped, turned back, and de! parted hastily in the opposite direction. I But Bellingham had recognized him; it was Mr. Randolph. The incident made little impression on him, however. He turned to the left, looking for the number, but finding he was going the wrong way he retraced his steps, and presently found himself standing before the door from which Mr. Randolph had just issued. It bore Mlle. Marana's number. He knocked, and Mme. Bernax opened to him. On his inquiring whether the prima donna were engaged, the lady said she would see. So he walked in, and stood by the window, and in a few minutes Mlle. Maraña appeared. She greeted him with such evidently spontaneous pleasure that any slight misgiving he may have feit was immediately dissipated. "I began to think you were never going to come," she said. "I'm so much out of the way of making calis that I'm surprised to find myself here. You have a great many callers?1 "Well, a good many come, but I see very few - only old friends. And of course." she added, "as I never was in New York before, that is the same as sa ving I see hardly any one." "I met a man lately who knows you, I think - Mr. Randolph." "Mr. Randolph?" She pronounced the I name in a changed tone and blushed. "Alexander Randolph," he repeated, looin at IujT;. She uïoppeil her eyes. -'I - believe - I have heard his name," she said. Bellingham said no more; he feit dismayed and bewildered. Undoubtedly there waa some unpleasant mystery about this fellow Randolph. "Heard his name," indeed! Had not the man been in her company five minutes ago? "I saw yon at the opera last night," remarked the prima donna, reco vering herself. Bellingham merely nodded. "Were you disappointed?" she asked falteringly. I "No, I was like the rest of the audience," he replied in a dry tone. "You are not like the rest of the audience to me," she said, "ever since the first night Ihave sung to you. I wouldn't teil you, only - I thonght you knew itl" "I know nothing about yon," returned Bellingham roughly. "You speak as if you didn't care to know anything," she said, holding np her head. Bellingham controlled his rising temper. A weaker man would have protected liimself by irony or sarcasm, but he said exactly what he thought. "I care more about what concerns you," he said, "than abont anything else. But I will not look away when I am being deceived. You and this Randolph are both pretending to be strangers to each other. I saw him come out of this room just before I came into it. Do you deny that he was here?" "He was here," answered she, turning pale. "There is only one other qnestion. Are you going to marry bini?" This was so unexpected that she lawjhed. It w;is a nervous, almost hysterccal lsoirh, it is trn--. but Bellingham Qaturally did not understand it. "1 am Dot going to marry Mr. Randolph," said the prima donna, with a heartbroken sense of humor. "And you will not teil me what your relations are with him?" "No; they are very peculiar relations," she replied lightly, for she was getting desperate. "You must think what you please - think the worst you can. it makes no difference. I will teil you nothing!" Bellingham gazed at her fixedly. "I cannot believe that you are a wicked woman," he exclaimed at length. "I don't know how to believe it! Why did you deceive me? I was ready to take it for granted that you were - like other women on the stage. But you made me believe yon were pure and innocent. No woman ever acted innocence before as you have done it. You look like innocence incarnate at this moment - at the actual moment you are admitting. What is it you want? I would have asked you to marry me - assoonas Ihad persnaded myself you loved me. I loved you with all niy heart and soul. Did you merely intend to lead me on, and then refuse me, like a common flirt? Or would you have married me and still kept up your relations with - well, I can't talk about it! There is always some motive even in the lightest wickedness, but I can see none in j-ours - and yonrs is not light!" Mlle. Maraña was standing erect twisting her lace handkerchief between her hands, her face pale, her eyes wide ! open, tearless, full of restless light. She never looked at him. It seemed physically impossible for her to do so. "I have never been spoken to like this," she said, in a faint, panting voice. "Will you leave me, please? Will you leave me?" Bellinghaín moved to depart, but he stopped and turned back. "I have always meant never to be unjust to any human being," said he. "It is possible that the very Iove I feit for you may have made me unjust to you. If you can teil me that there is nothing disgraceful in this secret of yours - teil me, for God's sake! Are you what you seem or something else?" "I am not what I seem!" she cried out passionately; and nowshe looked at him with a blaze of flerceness in her eyes. "You hava doubted me, and that is enough. I will never explain- I will never forgive you! If you are a man do not stand there; go out!" Bellingham was shaken to the bottom of his soul. The voice and manner with which her every word was uttered seemed to contradict the purport of the words themselves. Even yet he could not but believe her innocent. But there was nothing f urther for him to do or say. He went out. He descended the stairs slowly and emerged into the street. It was the middle of the day; the avenue was comparatively deserted. A few carriages were taking their occupants home to luncheon. Bellingham stood on the cnrbstone, looking up and down, and vaguely wondering what he should do next. By and by it struck him that it would not make much difference which way he went. In no place in th9 world could hefind what he had lost. Itwasnowhere; it had been annihilated. All that had made life delightful was gone from him, and he was left ironically behind. He had never really possessed it, even; it was a mirage- a phantom, which he had tried to grasp, and it had vanished. But the strangest part of the business - almost ludicrous - was that he remained behind, standing here, alive and well, in the_8unshine on Fifth jvvenne! He sauntered léisurely northward toward the park. Two or three times he passed some one he knew, and returned their greeting with a nod. But all the while he saw that lithe, erect figure, with her pale, lovely face, her eyes bright with pain or anger, her white hands twisting her handkerchief. Could it be that she was depraved, false, heartless? Every stern word he had spoken had been echoed, as it were, by the exquisite sensitiveness of her beauty. If she were false would she not have been true at that last moment, when nothing more was to be gained by deception, when to be sincere was essential to the enjoyment of the triumph her falsehood h;id ganied her. ïlo reached the park; there was still a vivid greenness in the gras3, though the trees were rich with the splendor of autumn. He wandered along the curving paths, feeling no pleasure, but pain, in the quiet beauty that surrounded him. Keeping to the left, where there seemed to be fewer saunterers like himself, he found himself at last near the extreme nortbern limit. He ascended a little hill, aml_onits suininit,_beneath_the golden snade ora group o f Frees, there was a space of leaf strewn turf on which he fiung hiinself down. The rtunble of the horse cars on the avenue came faintly to his ears, and now and then the voices of laughter of peoplo passing at a distance; the shadow of passing clouds drifted over him, aud ever and anón a golden leaf detached itself from a bough above his head and floated wavering earthward. But no oue disturbed Min, though he lay there all the afternoon, sometimes with his face buried on his arms, sometimes supporting his head upon his hand. He wondered what she had been doing sinee they parted. Had she been laughing over his discomfitmre and planning fresh enterprises? It was not possible! The snn went down and the shadows of twilight rose. Bellingham looked toward the east, and saL the disk of the moon mount above the horizon, untü the whole ronnd sphere swung aloft, orange against tho violet background. The evening was mild and still, but the lethargy which had fallen upon Bellingham began to be dispelled; he became restless and anxious. He could no longer stay where he was; he descended the little liill, crossed over tothe avenue, and still going northwestward came to the bank of the Hudson. The bank was high and steep; he clambered down it, and found the reinaius of a decayed wooden pier jutting out into the water. Upon the end of this he sat down, and the silent current swept and eddied past his feet. The sound of a clock striking somewhere caugh t his ear. This was the nour for her to -irrive at the theatre. A little while louter and she would be upon the stage. 'Would she look toward his 6?at, expecting to see him there? Na, she would never espect him againl Would she miss him? More than another hour passed away, and Bellingham sat so still that one might have fancied he was asleep. But he was not asleep - he was thinking, and now his thoughtswere becoming clearer and more consecutive than they had heretofore been. The moon had now Boared high aloft, and stood silvery bright above the sliding reacb.es of the river. All at once Bellingham sprang to his feet. He pulled out his watch; there waa yet time. He began hurriedly to climb the bank. It had been borne in upon him, he knew not how, with a sudden, overwhelming conviction, that she was not guilty, but pure and true; that the mystery was an innocent one, that all would be well, if he could but see her and speak to her. It was possible for him to reach the theatre before she left it, but he j must nse diligence. He was somewhat faint from lack of nourishment during the day, but he ran on until he came to a station of the elevated railway. He entered a train and was off. His heart was light and hopeful. The train halted at a station near the rear of the theatre. As he got out he saw that the performance was over, and the audience had dispersed. But she would not have left yet. No; there was her carriage waiting for her at the stage door. He ran down the iron staircase, but as he reached the bottoui he stopped. MUë. Maraña came out of the stage door, leaning upon the arm of a man - of Mr. Randolph. Mrs. Bemax followed, but entered the carriage first. Randolph appeared to exchange a few words with the prima donna; then she turnéd and put her foot on the carriage step. But, as if swayed by a sudden and incontrollable impulse, she turned again and threw her arms about Randolph's neck and kissed him again and again. Bellingham saw this, and then he faced about and monnted the iron stairs once more, while a mocking voice in his heart seemed to ask, "Are you satisüed now?"

Article

Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Courier