Reading High School - Arxalma Yearbook (Reading, PA)

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LITERARY 9 Was she the greedy thing he had derided? She craved self-denial for herself, but de- pression hung upon her like a weight as she faced self conviction, one accusation after another iiaming and retreating be- fore her. All he had said was true. Without loving him she had enjoyed mastering him. She had never wanted to marry him, yet she would have been sorry to marry, and step from a pic- see him turesque role to be somebody's husband. As Lady Poyndale she had meant to be very nice to him, present him to rich clients who would buy his pictures, keep the sparkle of the old fellowship to leaven her days, and all the while enjoy know- ing that she was standing between him and the sun-that he was loving her si- lently, miserably, in his stubborn, stormy way. She had been this sort of a woman, something of a metaphysical vampireg and he had told her so in a kiss of an- guish and rebellion. But she could not analyze the magic accomplished by that kiss further. Her accounting had created a mortal fear. She was shivering when her maid's defer- ential knock fell on the door, and she knew it was time to dress for dinner and Lord Poyndale. ' Elizabeth's reputation as a beauty was very secure, but on this' night there was an unusual splendor about her that those who saw her remembered long after. She was ofa startling pallor, but her eyes were burning. Her gown fell about her like a snow mistgmany red roses wreath- ed her hairy the cold flash of diamonds touched her throat and bosom. She was a spirit woman with passionate eyes. Lord Poyndale was the last of the guests to come. As Elizabeth waited for him, one thought kept facing her, and each moment its aspect grew more odious: she was to be married to a man she did not love because he was Lord Poyndale. He was an ugly, clever, and amusing man, and she had liked himg but marriage with him would never have occurred to her or to her father had he not represented an earldom, Boscowan Abbey in Lincolnshire. For a month she had not seen him, not since the afternoon he had placed the Poyndale ruby on her finger. His wooing had been stately, his expressions of endearment temperate, and he had kissed her hand that day. These and other like thoughts fioated like mists about the head of the inseparable thought, that ever and anon raised its Sphinxlike head and glared darkly at her. She was to be' married to a mlm she did not love because he was Lord Poyndale. When she saw him crossing the room to her the thought was routed by a ques- tion that rang from her affrighted heart: 'tWhat is the thing I am about to do? She heard it when she gave him her hand, 'as his eyes rested on her with sat- isfaction: as his square, widespread teeth showed in a complacent smile under his military mustache. Was it nice of you to bolt today when I was expected for luncheon? he asked. After a month's absence too-eh? Well, never mind, I dare say I deserved it. I've seemed a tepid lover, Elizabeth, I'll admit. That beastly Colorado mining business kept me here all these weeks, but now that you've fooled me-eh?-eh?-it will be dilferent, you know. You look ripping -color a little bit off, that's all. l'm longing to see you tonight when the rest go. Your father agreed with me today there's no need for delay. You might as well be a true American girl and get mar- ried under the Stars and Stripes, and go straight to Boscowan as Lady Poyndale- eh?--eh? His trick of quick questioning with a convulsion of noiseless laughter had never irritated her -before-now she hated it-she seemed to hate him. Yet as she went hurriedly from him, she knew she was unjust. Hers had been a willing sale, though never recognized as such un- til tonight. Yet, fair or unfair, it was torture to look at him during the dinner, and an atmosphere of dire dread hung about her. Except for a score or so of words spoken by a man opposite to her, the hours at the table were without the slightest grain of interest to Elizabeth. These, though not meant for her, came to her over the liowers and candles as if spoken to her only: I had a letter from Colonel Hethering- ton a short time ago. He's crazy over the decorating and furnishings of his Paris house. lt's going to be a dream. He's given the mural decorating, by the way, to young Varick-you know him.

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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?

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10 THE RED AND BLACK . Yes-his pictures have been making a stir lately. He sails tomorrow morning on the Slavonic. Fine fellow-I like Dan Varick. You know this commission will mean a lot of money, and it's the begin- ning of bigger things for him. , Sails tomorrow morning! Slavonic! Ordinary words, just a collection of syllables, but they flashed like a comet against the horizon, and left Elizabeth shaken. Dan was going from New York just as she had reached lt, and had not told her. His good-by had been final. He had indeed wiped her out with a. flourish forever. She had not been con- scious of hope or expectation regarding him, but the thought of the seas between them put the seal upon her desolation. Some time later she went along the hall to the library, where Lord Poyndale was waiting for her. Her nervousness and absentmlndedness had not escaped him. But she did not know that he had dismissed thought on the subject as un- important. She would become practical enough when she was his wife and had children to give her real anxiety. This white-faced, moody girl was his, though she had not given him one responsive glance. It would be taming her to make her acknowledge this tonight. The mas- ter in him was pleasantly stimulated by the prospect. Elizabeth came in slowly. Her excited eyes and red lips were vivid in her white, still face. She was dream-like, unexpec- tant. She irritated him. He crossed to hcr sharply. You don't seem very glad to see me. But you are-aren't you? His look of ownership as he put his arms about her made an acute repulsion seize her. No, no, no! The words rushed in a shivering way from her averted lips. She hold him back with an angry wildness. He was never so surprised in his life. You won't let me kiss you? I'd-I'd-die first, Elizabeth said, an- guish in the words, Die? This is strange language, he said crisply, his clasp on her arms tight- ening in exasperation. Are you out of your mind? Lord Poyndale, she said piteously, let me go and I'll tell you. His hands fell sharply, and she sank back, leaning on the table to steady her- self. What's the meaning of this-this-er -remarkable conduct? he asked, his light brows twitching. She drew off the ring and placed it on the table between them.. I can't marry you, Lord Poyndale, she said, and went blindly toward the door. One moment, if you please, he said, in a cold voice that conveyed, however, a. deep, shutin wrath. Pray, when did you discover that you could not marry me?l' Today I'm sorry to hurt you. I hope you'll forgive me. And your reason? I don't love you, break in her voice. she repeated, with dull emphasis, and went away. she said, a wild I don't love you, She seemed to have been only a mo- ment in her room, when her father, after an aggressive knock, stepped in. He was ashen from anger. He stared at her in unbelief. What's this Lord Poyndale tells me? he asked. That you've thrown him over? He leaned his fists on the table and brought his face close to hers. I know what's the matter and it's got to stop this minute. I found out from Jack- son where you had him drive you today. You've been with your artistic vagabond friends, and you've come back full of that stuff about aims and ideals that you used to talk. That's what has made you insult a. peer of England tonight. She quailed at his look, but as suddenly rallied, and her words were as surprising as flame darting from ashes. Not that alone, father. I love Dan Varick. I love him with every beat of my heart. I wasn't sure of this when I reached home today. I felt only then that in this life that seems so full of everything a girl could want my soul has been starving, and I began to wonder how Lord Poyn- he tried to I had ever promised to be dale's wife. But-oh, when kiss me, I-I-knew. I knew, father, how a woman must love a man to marry him. Then I knew, too, how I loved Dan-for he kissed me today, father-kissed me to- day- There was a foreboding silence between