The Man Between - Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (reading books for 7 year olds .TXT) 📗

perished, slain by Achilles, the rush of chariots, the ring of hoofs, the roar of flames--and as he sang the people stopped to listen, breathless and eager, with rapt, attentive ear. And when the singer ceased the soldier's cap was filled with coins, and the people begged for yet another song. Then he sang of Venus, till all men's hearts were softly stirred, and the air was purple and misty and full of the scent of roses. And in their joy men cast before Akeratos not coins only, but silver bracelets and rings, and gems and ornaments of gold, until the heap had to its utmost grown, making Akeratos rich in all men's sight. Then suddenly the singer stood in a blaze of light, and the men of Argos saw their god of song, Phoebus Apollo, rise in glory to the skies."

The girls were delighted; the Judge pleased both with his own rendering of the legend and the manifest appreciation with which it had been received. For a moment or two all felt the exquisite touch of the antique world, and Ethel said, in a tone of longing,

"I wish that I had been a Greek and lived in Argos."

"You would not have liked it as well as being an American and living in New York," said her father.

"And you would have been a pagan," added Ruth.

"They were such lovely pagans, Ruth, and they dreamed such beautiful dreams of life. Leave the book with me, father; I will take good care of it."

Then the Judge gave her the book, and with a sigh looked into the modern street. "I ought to be down at Bowling Green instead of reading Greek stories to you girls," he said rather brusquely. "I have a very important railway case on my mind, and Phoebus Apollo has nothing to do with it. Good morning. And, Ethel, do not deify the singer on the avenue. He will not turn out, like the singer by the portico, to be a god; be sure of that."

The door closed before she could answer, and both women remained silent a few minutes. Then Ethel went to the window, and Ruth asked if she was going to Dora's.

"Yes," was the answer, but without interest.

"You are tired with all this shopping and worry?"

"It is not only that I am tired, I am troubled about Fred Mostyn."

"Why?"

"I do not know why. It is only a vague unrest as yet. But one thing I know, I shall oppose anything like Fred making himself intimate with Dora."

"I think you will do wisely in that."

But in a week Ethel realized that in opposing a lover like Fred Mostyn she had a task beyond her ability. Fred had nothing to do as important in his opinion as the cultivation of his friendship with Dora Denning. He called it "friendship," but this misnomer deceived no one, not even Dora. And when Dora encouraged his attentions, how was Ethel to prevent them without some explanation which would give a sort of reality to what was as yet a nameless suspicion?

Yet every day the familiarity increased. He seemed to divine their engagements. If they went to their jeweler's, or to a bazaar, he was sure to stroll in after them. When they came out of the milliner's or modiste's, Fred was waiting. "He had secured a table at Sherry's; he had ordered lunch, and all was ready." It was too great an effort to resist his entreaty. Perhaps no one wished to do so. The girls were utterly tired and hungry, and the thought of one of Fred's lunches was very pleasant. Even if Basil Stanhope was with them, it appeared to be all the better. Fred always included Dora's lover with a charming courtesy; and, indeed, at such hours, was in his most delightful mood. Stanhope appeared to inspire him. His mentality when the clergyman was present took possession of every incident that came and went, and clothed it in wit and pleasantry. Dora's plighted lover honestly thought Dora's undeclared lover the cleverest and most delightful of men. And he had no opportunity of noting, as Ethel did, the difference in Fred's attitude when he was not present. Then Mostyn's merry mood became sentimental, and his words were charged with soft meanings and looks of adoration, and every tone and every movement made to express far more than the tongue would have dared to utter.

As this flirtation progressed--for on Dora's part it was only vanity and flirtation--Ethel grew more and more uneasy. She almost wished for some trifling overt act which would give her an excuse for warning Dora; and one day, after three weeks of such philandering, the opportunity came.

"I think you permit Fred Mostyn to take too much liberty with you, Dora," she said as soon as they were in Dora's parlor, and as she spoke she threw off her coat in a temper which effectively emphasized the words.

"I have been expecting this ill-nature, Ethel. You were cross all the time we were at lunch. You spoiled all our pleasure Pray, what have I been doing wrong with Fred Mostyn?"

"It was Fred who did wrong. His compliments to you were outrageous. He has no right to say such things, and you have no right to listen to them."

"I am not to blame if he compliments me instead of you. He was simply polite, but then it was to the wrong person."

"Of course it was. Such politeness he had no right to offer you."

"It would have been quite proper if offered you, I suppose?"

"It would not. It would have been a great impertinence. I have given him neither claim nor privilege to address me as 'My lovely Ethel!' He called you many times 'My lovely Dora!' You are not his lovely Dora. When he put on your coat, he drew you closer than was proper; and I saw him take your hand and hold it in a clasp--not necessary."

"Why do you listen and watch? It is vulgar. You told me so yourself. And I am lovely. Basil says that as well as Fred. Do you want a man to lie and say I am ugly?"

"You are fencing the real question. He had no business to use the word 'my.' You are engaged to Basil Stanhope, not to Fred Mostyn."

"I am Basil's lovely fiancee; I am Fred's lovely friend."

"Oh! I hope Fred understands the difference."

"Of course he does. Some people are always thinking evil."

"I was thinking of Mr. Stanhope's rights."

"Thank you, Ethel; but I can take care of Mr. Stanhope's rights without your assistance. If you had said you were thinking of Ethel Rawdon's rights you would have been nearer the truth."

"Dora, I will not listen----"

"Oh, you shall listen to me! I know that you expected Fred to fall in love with you, but if he did not like to do so, am I to blame?" Ethel was resuming her coat at this point in the conversation, and Dora understood the proud silence with which the act was being accomplished. Then a score of good reasons for preventing such a definite quarrel flashed through her selfish little mind, and she threw her arms around Ethel and begged a thousand pardons for her rudeness. And Ethel had also reasons for avoiding dissension at this time. A break in their friendship now would bring Dora forward to explain, and Dora had a wonderful cleverness in presenting her own side of any question. Ethel shrunk from her innuendoes concerning Fred, and she knew that Basil would be made to consider her a meddling, jealous girl who willingly saw evil in Dora's guileless enjoyment of a clever man's company.

To be misunderstood, to be blamed and pitied, to be made a pedestal for Dora's superiority, was a situation not to be contemplated. It was better to look over Dora's rudeness in the flush of Dora's pretended sorrow for it. So they forgave each other, or said they did, and then Dora explained herself. She declared that she had not the least intention of any wrong. "You see, Ethel, what a fool the man is about me. Somebody says we ought to treat a fool according to his folly. That is all I was doing. I am sure Basil is so far above Fred Mostyn that I could never put them in comparison--and Basil knows it. He trusts me."

"Very well, Dora. If Basil knows it, and trusts you, I have no more to say. I am now sorry I named the subject."

"Never mind, we will forget that it was named. The fact is, Ethel, I want all the fun I can get now. When I am Basil's wife I shall have to be very sedate, and of course not even pretend to know if any other man admires me. Little lunches with Fred, theater and opera parties, and even dances will be over for me. Oh, dear, how much I am giving up for Basil! And sometimes I think he never realizes how dreadful it must be for me."

"You will have your lover all the time then. Surely his constant companionship will atone for all you relinquish."

"Take off your coat and hat, Ethel, and sit down comfortably. I don't know about Basil's constant companionship. Tete-a-tetes are tiresome affairs sometimes."

"Yes," replied Ethel, as she half-reluctantly removed her coat, "they were a bore undoubtedly even in Paradise. I wonder if Eve was tired of Adam's conversation, and if that made her listen to--the other party."

"I am so glad you mentioned that circumstance, Ethel. I shall remember it. Some day, no doubt, I shall have to remind Basil of the failure of Adam to satisfy Eve's idea of perfect companionship." And Dora put her pretty, jeweled hands up to her ears and laughed a low, musical laugh with a childish note of malice running through it.

This pseudo-reconciliation was not conducive to pleasant intercourse. After a short delay Ethel made an excuse for an early departure, and Dora accepted it without her usual remonstrance. The day had been one of continual friction, and Dora's irritable pettishness hard to bear, because it had now lost that childish unreason which had always induced Ethel's patience, for Dora had lately put away all her ignorant immaturities. She had become a person of importance, and had realized the fact. The young ladies of St. Jude's had made a pet of their revered rector's love, and the elder ladies had also shown a marked interest in her. The Dennings' fine house was now talked about and visited. Men of high financial power respected Mr. Dan Denning, and advised the social recognition of his family; and Mrs. Denning was not now found more eccentric than many other of the new rich, who had been tolerated in the ranks of the older plutocrats. Even Bryce had made the standing he desired. He was seen with the richest and idlest young men, and was invited to the best houses. Those fashionable women who had marriageable daughters considered him not ineligible, and men temporarily hampered for cash knew that they could find smiling assistance for a consideration at Bryce's little office on William Street.

These and other points of reflection troubled Ethel, and she was glad the long trial was nearing its end, for she knew quite well the disagreement of that evening had done no good. Dora would certainly repeat their conversation, in her own way of interpreting it, to both Basil Stanhope and Fred Mostyn. More than likely both Bryce and Mrs. Denning would also hear