Reading High School - Arxalma Yearbook (Reading, PA)

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LITERARY 7 pretty, untroubled, and confident as be fore. Ah, well, Danny, she murmured, even though you discountenance me as a woman of fashion and say horrid things about me, you do like me. We were such good chums. It used to be sweet here, running in and out of each other's stu- dios. I tell you I missed it a lot when I went in for heavy splendor in London. The others-Billy, Cis, Christy, all wrote to me. You never did-never answered one of my letters-painfully rude, honest- ly, Dan. But I heard all about you any- how and was awfully glad to hear of your successes. Dan did not answer. He seemed so thoughtful and calm, gazing into infinity, that she saw no danger in going quite close to him, touching his arm, letting her ungloved fingers twine insinuatlngly about it. You might have written, Danny. If you knew-oh, how I watched, watched, watched for a letter. The words were like a confession of a long deferred hope. He looked down in- to her eyes, her gaze remained tender, in- viting, dreaming. It was such a candid, soulful look apparently, such a false one as he well knewg his heart grew big with bitterness. You are fond of me, Dan? she asked, her eyes brightening as she saw his face twitch, though his jaw was set. Fond of you? The words were slow, unwillingly, almost angry. I loved you always. You always knew lt. She appeared startled. But you never told me, she murmured, her fingers still ruminatingly touching his sleeve. You knew it. A thousand times you tried to make me tell you. I meant to some day. I was only waiting then for success. I believed ln you then. You don't now? she queried, hurt. Now I know that this cat and mouse game has always been a favorite of yours. The tone was so hare of a shred of lllu- sion that her Angers fell sharply from his arm. He stood up, squaring his shoul- ders. You kept me hoping and fearing for a year, a fool's paradise: then you found you hadn't known your own mind! But don't say again you didn't know I loved you-I can't bear it. His hands came down upon her shoulders, the grip hurting her. Why, you came today feel- ing sure you'd only have to see me to find me the same miserable, romantic beggar you'd left, with love for you bubbling from his heart and peeping from his eyes -didn't you? You thought this little visit would be a little adventure, a sort of a spice to your ultra-fashionable life. He gave a short, miserable laugh, and rushed on vehemently. My dear Elizabeth, you had things all your own way long enough. You've played with me once too often today. Your eyes have been lying to me every moment since you came in. You've seen that I grow wretched and restless at the sight of you. You've watched me as Louis XI watched the suf- ferings of his tortured prisoners. She tried to draw away, but his eyes, with love, storm, and arralgnment mes- merized her into submission. I'm not playing that part any longer and starv- mg. He caught her to him abruptly. She could not resist. His burning, trembling lips, controlled her own. It was a wild kiss, ripe with the suppressed suffering of heart-sick, lonely years,-overpower ingly sad in a despairing farewell. , I love you, she heard him say faintly, brokenly. Oh, Beth, I love you. As summarily as he had taken her to him, he put her away and stood before her, pale and very grave. She was trem- bling as if a storm had whirled about her and left her faint. You had no right, she moaned be- tween her shut teeth. You dared-you've been a coward. I've just one question to ask you, and then we'll finish this scene, Dan said quietly. I've heard all about Lord Hen- ry Poyndale. In fact, I met him at dinner one day last week. You know I am some- times lnvited to one of your fashionable feasts to be scrutinized as some near. human curloslty. I heard there, of him and of you. Can you deny that the ruby on the third finger of that hand which rested on my arm a few moments ago was put there by this high nosed, light eyebrowed nobleman? Her eyelids hid her eyes from him, but a look of defeat and certainly of shame made a shadow around her mouth. She made no other reply than to walk slowly from the room. Through the sunlight and noise of the

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6 THE RED AND BLACK Oh, hesaid in a fiat, colorless voice, it's you. Don't you want to See me, Dan? Elizabeth asked with insinuating gracious- ness, smiling feebly. Don't you really want to know me anymore? Come in, he said briefly, glancing at the chafing dish. I hope you'll excuse this unsightly evidence of ecomony, in- dustry, and lunch. My minion has not appeared to-day. This frequently happens of Sunday. on'Monday, after the laxity She has written me that she has 'ulsters on her throat'g and, with a flourish he carried the chafing dish into a darkened little alcove. Why, I don't mind, Dan- Elizabeth began with eager, condoning smile. Oh, I beg pardon, he interposed light- ly but definitely as he came back, I must apologize. Had I known you were com- ing, of course- and the sentence was completed by his refastening his collar and vigorously unrolling his sleeves to the wrists. Chilling though the welcome was, Elizabeth paused at the door of the big, bright studio, and looked about with dreamy eyes. Every little detail winged a memory to herg memories of the days when life to her had meant dreams and accomplishment, clay to be modeled by her febrile fingers under the prod and fire of inspirationg sacrifices to be made, rent paid with difiiculty and food often taken, from necessity, in homeopathic doses. Then as if by witchcraft all had been changed. Her father, after fifteen years of mining prospecting, had made a dazzling fortune in a far, isolated, north- western place, and had come out of the solltudes with the appetite of the starving for all that his gold could buy him. He was a rough grim man, with no artistic understanding, and one of the nrst things he had demanded was his only child. She must cease what he termed working for - ha forget that she had ever been anything ...ne what she was expected to become-Peter Alliens heiress, with a fortune to make longing eyes blink, able to buy whatever there was for sale in the high places of the earth. Well, she had made her choice two years ago, and Dan Varick had not forgiven her for it. Have you been back long? he asked. Only a week, Dan, and I came on the Deutschland. We found a furnished house on Park Avenue that does very well. She paused and added wistfully: I wanted to rush down here the first day, Dan. Your victoria is vastly becoming to you, Elizabeth. I saw you in it in the park yesterday-all tea rose colored lin- ing, and the men on the box all tea rose colored, too. Are they waiting for you now? She could not prevent an absurdly craven touch of apology from creeping in- to her Voice as she answered: Yes,I couldnft walk in these clothes, you know. I wonder how they'l1 stand the smells. The onion soup odor from the Italian restaurant around the corner is particu- larly strong on Mondays. A look like that of a misunderstood child rippled over the ivory pale oval of her face. It pulled on Dan's heart- strings. He had never seen her eyes more lovely, the pale blue light edging the dark iris so luminously. Certainly riches were vastly becoming to her. Why could he not softeng Why did he almost hate her?-and hate her most of all for coming in this azure, disquieting spring weather, with her haunting voice, and endearing smile, awaking the past and filling the room with ghosts? You're angry with me still, said Elizabeth, in her smallest voice. Yet what could I do, Dan? How could I have refused to go to Dad? .He ignored the question, stood up hastily, and walked up and down, his face lifted to the light. And yet, he said regretfully, you had talent-some genius. You were begin- ning to be known. ' It was terribly hard, she sighed. But you had it-your gift, he insist- ed 5 the gift given you of God-the magic in your hands of creating beauty. And you chucked this over for a carriage with a tea rose satin lining, and all lt stands for. He leaned against the wall and bit- terly studled her, from her artificially waved hair to her big-bowed shoes. You sold lt. You can live without it. Talk of 'messes of pottage' and 'selling birthrightsf Why, Good Lord! This beats 'em all! Elizabeth began tracing something on the floor with her parasol. Shadows pass- ed over her face, lightly, and left it as

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Q RED AND BLACK street, Elizabeth was driven home. She was not aware of what her eyes were looking upon. She was not thinking of what had passed in any conscious, literal fashion. She felt nothing, yet had an under consciousness that she was going to feel much. As the victoria stopped before the house on Park Avenue, her father came down the steps. He gave her a sharp, ir- ritated look. His mouth was puckered grimly. Where've you been? he askedg you knew Poyndale was coming to lunch, and we waited a half hour for you. You look fagged. Where've you been? She fretted against the masterful tone in a way quite different from her usual listless amiabilityg and the critical glance she bent on her father was novel, too. Everything about Mr. Allien was just over the mark of good taste. He was dressed too much. His waistcoat, de- scribed by his tailor as a pleasing nov- elty, fairly shrieked. His well cared for but hairy hands, with joints much en- larged from years of hard work, had rouged nails polished to the brilliancy of small mirrors. His too high collar was plainly uncomfortable. The ring on his little finger held a diamond too large as his hand grasped an entirely superfluous walking stick. He was materialized os- tentationg the beggar who, when he is in a position to eat, gorges himself, but with a certain childish pleasure in his grand- eur that completely baiiles criticism. Elizabeth realized, too, the vivid qualities that had made him a success: a rough, virile intelligenceg a pride of a sortg un- dying patienceg courage against any oddsg the honesty that pays a fair price for what it buys. But while she loved him sincerely, she realized with this sharpened perception that all these were like tiny flowers in the dust-heap of sor- dld things. With a few words she passed him, for she craved being alone. I forgot lunch, dad. I'm awf'1y sorry, dear. I've been driving-about-and I've such a headache. Mr. Allien gave another long, sharp look with a dawning anxiety in it. Poyndale and six others will be here for dinner. Donft forget that, too, my girl. These short memories may be what fools call artistic, but they don't go in society and I don't like 'em. He started for a walk, and Elizabeth went to her own rooms. She felt dull and sickeningly cold. There was the need of making a new acquaintance with her- self. She must first understand, and then in some way rout this creeping dissatis- faction and uncertainty. She must think of Dan, of her hour with him. She be- gan to feel a struggling desire to place the wrong and justify herself. him in But her lips still burned from his 'amaz- ing kiss as she walked recklessly about, or sat with hands pressed to her eyes or gazed into the street without seeing it, and instead of justification, fear in- creased with the seconds. She had chosen her life's path so unhesitatingly, and had walked it with such thoughtless content, but now she was standing still with a feeling of insecurity. For she realized if Dan had spoken truly, that path led her away from the things that really spelled happiness. There was a stinging haze upon her sight as she stood on a chair and took an old portfolio from a high shelf. She al- ways carried it with her, though it had not been opened in two years. Now she dreamed and yearned over it in a sudden passion of repentance for her neglect. As if it took a subtle revenge, everything she fingered poured the poison of regret into her heart. She was like some one who had sought strange gods, and who had crept back, heartsick, to gaze on for- saken altars. The memories seemed clos- ing around her with the arms of a little child she was trying brutally to desertg it was a living thing leaning upon her heart whispering to her. At last she closed the book and crossed her arms upon it. A deep longing for the old, turbulent days sent a pang through her. Ah, the bitterness, sweetness, striv- ing, insecurity, light footed liberty, con- quest, or laughter in the face of defeat had really spelled life-not the clogged, surfeited days she knew now when she desired nothing, feared nothing. Dan was right. She had sold that God-given some- thing for the something of earth. As she stared into her thoughts, a pinched chided look stole over her face. Was he right also in the summing up of herself?