CHAPTER II
THE AMAZING WIDOW
As soon as Torrence left I returned to the garage, feeling that with Mrs. Bashford on American soil my use of the residence even as a loafing-place was unbecoming. Mrs. Bashford was not only in America, but with a motor at her command she might reach Barton at any hour. And the vigorous, dominating woman who had captured my uncle Bash, buried him in a far country, and then effected a hop, skip, and jump from Bangkok to Seattle, was likely to be a prodigal spender of gasoline. Her propensity for travelling encouraged the hope that she would quickly weary of Barton and pine for lands where the elephant and jinrickisha flourish.
I had brought with me the ma.n.u.script of Searles"s play, and I fell upon it irritably and began reading the first act. The dialogue moved briskly, and I read on as though enfolded in the air of a crisp spring morning. It was Searles"s whimsical stroke, only with a better vehicle than he had ever before found for it. My grouch over the upsetting of my plans yielded under the spell of his humor.
"Lady Larkspur" was the name a.s.sumed by the daughter of a recluse naturalist in the valley of Virginia. She had known no life but that of the open country, where she ran wild all summer, aiding her father in collecting plants and b.u.t.terflies. At twenty she had never seen a city, and her social contacts had been limited to the country folk, who viewed her with commiseration as the prisoner of her misanthrope father, who in the fifteen years of his exile had maintained a hostile att.i.tude toward his neighbors. He had, however, educated the girl in such manner that only the cheer and joy of life were known to her. Hating mankind, he had encouraged her in nature-worship. She knew no literature except the cla.s.sics; all history, even the history of the storied valley in which she lived, was a sealed book to her.
The girl"s curiosity is roused by the sudden appearance of strangers from the unknown world beyond, whom she mystifies by her quaint old-worldishness. Searles had taken an old theme and given a novel twist to it. The solution of the mystery of the father"s exile and an amusing complication of lovers afforded a suspensive interest well sustained to the end. There were innumerable charming scenes, as where the girl in the outlandish costume in which she roamed the hills perches on a boulder and recites the "Iliad" to her suitors. In the last act she appears at a ball at a country house in sophisticated raiment, and the story ends in the key of mirth in which it began.
It was a delightful blending and modernization of Diana, Atalanta, Cinderella, and Rosalind; but even in the typewritten page it was amazingly alive and well calculated to evoke tears and laughter. That a play so enthralling should be buried in a safety-vault was not to be thought of, and I sat down and wrote Searles a long letter demanding that he at once forget the lost star for whom he had written the piece, suggesting the names of several well-known actresses I thought worth considering for the difficult leading role. Not satisfied with this, I telephoned a telegram to the agent at Barton for transmission to Searles at the Ohio address he had given me.
The next day pa.s.sed without incident, and on the second, hearing nothing from Torrence, I began to doubt Mrs. Bashford"s proximity. On the third, still hearing nothing, I harkened to an invitation from friends at New London and drove over in the runabout for dinner. It was midnight when I got back, and when I reached the gates several men dashed out of the lodge and halted me.
"She"s come, sir," announced Antoine, emerging from the darkness, and speaking under stress of deep emotion; "madame the widow has arrived, sir!"
"Why not Cleopatra or the Queen of Sheba?" I exclaimed testily to cover my annoyance that my aunt had effected her descent in my absence. "Well, she was expected; the house is hers; what do you want me to do about it?" I ended with affected jocularity.
"We received her the best we could; but it was most unfortunate, your not being here, sir."
"Is that your idea, Antoine, or do you reflect the lady"s sentiments?
I"m properly humiliated either way. Tell me just what she said."
"Well, sir, she just laughed when I took the liberty of apologizing."
"The sneering laughter of outraged dignity! Go ahead and give me the rest of it."
"It was at ten she came, sir, and the guard held her up, not recognizing her, here at the gate, and when the car didn"t stop the boys chased her and fired at the tires of her machine. It was very dreadful, sir. And at the house--at the door, sir--the guard was very harsh with her, sir, most regrettable."
"You certainly made a mess of it!" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "But you did let her in--into her own house, we must remember--you did grant her the courtesy of a lodging for the night?" I inquired ironically.
"She"s retired, sir. There was a lady with her; maybe a maid; I can"t exactly say; and we did everything, sir, to make her comfortable. She was not what you might say fussy, sir, but quite human-like. We was all relieved, sir, the way she took everything. I hope you"ll pardon us, sir, which was due to not being warned."
"Oh, it"s all right with me, but in the morning she"ll probably bounce the whole lot of us. An old lady fatigued from a journey cross country and shot at on her own premises--it"s a very pretty story."
They were a picturesque lot, the ancient waiters and bell-hops grouped about Antoine with their lanterns and garden implements and firearms.
Antoine was swallowing hard in his effort to continue his recital.
"You say an old lady, sir; the mistress is not really what you would call so old--not exactly, sir."
"Really a youngish party, I should say," volunteered Graves, the gardener.
Just what these veterans would call old was a matter of conjecture.
"Um," I murmured, and considered the situation.
"Young or old, she would hardly relish her reception. There was a maid, and they came in a machine? Did you put up the chauffeur or did you shoot him on the spot?"
"It was a hired machine, sir; and madame sent it away. The driver was a good deal upset over the shooting. One of the rear tires was quite blown away."
"You"re in luck if he doesn"t have you all arrested to-morrow," I remarked consolingly.
"Mrs. Bashford seemed quite amused by the occurrence," Antoine continued. ""Wonderful America!" she kept saying after we"d got her inside. We gave her tea, which was all she asked for. She takes her tea with cream, sir. We did our best to make her comfortable. And there was a dog, sir. I recall that the master was not fond of dogs. There was never one on the place."
Antoine spoke truly; if there was anything my Uncle Bash detested it was a dog, but I reflected that a world-skipping widow who could corral so difficult a subject as my uncle would be quite capable of inspiring him with delight in the canine species. My respect for the woman"s powers of persuasion was intensified by this disclosure.
She had failed to wire Torrence as she promised or he had neglected to warn me of her coming; either way it was a pretty kettle of fish, and I shuddered at the thought of facing her wholly pardonable indignation.
To make sure that nothing was required of me until morning, I drove past the house with the army hanging to the footboard. The lower rooms were dark, but lights twinkled through the second-story shutters. My aunt was established on the premises, and her coming and the circ.u.mstances of her advent const.i.tuted a good joke of which I and not she was the victim.
When I reached my quarters in the garage I sat down and laughed until Flynn appeared, frightened by my noisy mirth that had penetrated to his quarters. I got rid of him and smoked a pipe and began the packing I meant to finish early in the morning.
I wakened early, rang a bell connecting my rooms with the chauffeur"s end of the garage as a warning to the Flynns to prepare breakfast, and was dressed when the Irishman came in with the tray. In the absence of a morning paper I clung to him for company.
"I trust you will not be leaving, sorr," he remarked, eyeing my half-packed trunk.
"Very soon, Flynn."
"Then Elsie and I will be going too, sorr. It"s most uncomfortable they"re making us--Dutch and the rest. That Antoine and his army keep pesterin" us and callin" us Huns."
"You raise a very interesting question, Flynn, a very delicate question of fact and propriety. Satisfied as you and Elsie are of your entire loyalty to the United States and the a.s.sociated Powers, I think you should remain, a martyr, if need be, to the great cause of world democracy."
"It"s most disagreeable we find it, the wife and me," he said mournfully.
"Suffer and be strong--that"s the watchword! We will hope that Mrs.
Bashford is a woman of sound sense and tact who will exert herself to restore peace on her property. When I call to pay my respects and make my adieus I shall speak to her of the situation and vouch for your loyalty. You may count on me. You haven"t, I suppose, seen the widow yet--she"s probably sleeping late."
"Quite the contrary, sorr. She"s been up and around for an hour an"
more. She"s been all over the place and stopped for a squint at the garage, her and the pup."
"She"s been here, inspecting the garage?" I asked, glancing at my watch.
It was not yet eight o"clock. The banter died out of me; clearly it had been my duty to be on hand to pilot her over the estate, or at least to receive her at the garage. "Just what was the lady"s frame of mind--as to things generally. Peeved, was she, over the row last night?"
"Oh, no, sorr; quite cheerful an" friendly. She"s ordered a big car from New York and told me it would be coming up to-day and to make a place for it."
Here was news indeed, destroying all my hopes that she meditated only a brief sojourn. The purchase of a machine meant definitely that she would remain for some time, perhaps for the winter. I poured a second cup of coffee, swallowed it, grabbed my hat and stick, and asked enlightment as to the course taken by Mrs. Bashford when she left the garage.
"She took the lower road, sorr, toward the Sound and stepped off quite brisk-like."
It was the serenest of September mornings, and I hurried away, thinking the cloudless blue arch, the twinkling sea, and the crisp air might serve to soften my aunt"s displeasure at her hostile reception. From the conservatories I caught a glimpse of a woman on the beach--a slender, agile woman throwing a ball for the amus.e.m.e.nt of a fox-terrier. She threw the ball with a boy"s free swing, occasionally varying a hot one down the sh.o.r.e with a toss high in air which she caught up herself before the terrier could reach it. The two were having no end of a good time. She laughed joyfully when the ball fell into her hands and the terrier barked his discomfiture and eagerness for a chance to redeem himself.
Antoine"s equivocal statement as to Mrs. Bashford"s age was ridiculous.
Instead of the middle-aged woman whom I was prepared to meet, here was beyond question a vigorous, healthy being whose every movement spoke for youth and the joy of life. It might, after all, be the maid of whom Antoine had spoken; I advanced slowly, anxious not to break in upon her romp with the terrier--they made a charming picture--and trying to formulate an introduction. I reached a low stone wall that separated the lawn from the beach just as she effected a running pick-up of the ball.
She turned swiftly and flung it straight at my head. Involuntarily I put up my hand and caught it just as she saw me and cried out--a cry of warning and contrition. I tossed the ball to the dog.
"What must you think of me!" she exclaimed. "I was blinded by the sunlight and I didn"t see you--really I did not!"