Vision House Part 16

Meanwhile, Zelie was s.n.a.t.c.hing a few words with Garth--not the words she wanted personally to speak, but as nearly those as she dared.

"Jack Garth!" she whispered, "Miss Sorel told me just now you and she are going to be _married_. She wasn't _joking_?"

"I hope not," said Garth steadily, "because I'd be--rather cut up if I thought it was a joke."

"Listen, Jack," Zelie hurried on. "We're pals--we've been pals for a long time. I _want_ you to be happy. I'd do a whole lot to make you happy. So you've just _got_ to forgive me if I say.... _Do_ you know what you're doing? _Can_ you be happy? That girl--I mean, Miss Sorel--doesn't love you any more than she does me. And that isn't a _little_ bit!"

"I love her," said Garth. "I don't care a d.a.m.n whether I'm happy or not."

"Oh! Then it's all right. Of course, I _suppose_ you know your own business. Still--Jack--I can't help feeling there's something queer--some sort of mystery. Don't let yourself be deceived."

"I'm not being deceived."

"I hope not, I'm sure. But--oh, _do_ forgive me!--it's Lord Severance she loves."

"Then the sooner she unloves him the better it will be all around."

"I know you think I'm a meddler. But remember we're friends. Remember Mothereen told me to be your friend, Jack. Those two Sorel women think Severance the perfect beau ideal of a man. They look upon you--oh, I can't say it!"

"You needn't," Garth drily a.s.sured her; "I'm a cad; a bounder; a lout."

"The _beasts_! I hate them both!" Zelie gasped. "They're not worthy to black your boots."

"I mostly wear brown ones," said Garth.

"You're right to snub me. I won't say any more. You must go your own way, and I hope--I hope with all my heart" (Zelie choked a little) "you'll never regret it. But just this _one_ thing let me beg you to do.

Whatever they're up to, don't give them the chance to despise you. I mean, in little things. They _can't_ in big! I saw the way they looked at--at your clothes Sunday afternoon, Jack. I could have _thrown_ something at them!--not the clothes, but the Sorels--and Severance, the conceited Greek sn.o.b! But the clothes _weren't_ right, boy. They didn't do you justice. They had a sort of 'Sunday-go-to-meeting' look: kind of _smug_! And your gloves and shoes _just_ the wrong yellow! For heaven's sake don't lose a minute in going to a good tailor if you don't want your life to be a h.e.l.l!"

Garth laughed out, a hard, spasmodic laugh; and at that instant Marise came in.

CHAPTER XIV

MARISE PUTS ON BLACK

A girl in love with one man, flinging herself at the head of another out of pique or something worse, should have been utterly careless how she appeared to the eyes of the latter. But for some reason--she hardly knew what--Marise had been anxious to look her most desirable. She was dressed in black velvet with s.h.i.+mmering fringes, and a drooping black velvet hat which made her fairness dazzling, her yellowish-brown hair bright gold.

With a faint smile, and in silence, she held out her hand. Garth took it, and this time didn't crush it unduly.

Zelie, who had risen as Garth rose, began pinning on her toque, but Marise turned to her. "Don't go, Miss Marks," she said. "I've told you the secret, and maybe we shall need your help about something. I don't want my mother here till everything's arranged. It doesn't matter about you."

Zelie slowly took out a hatpin. Oh no, it didn't matter about _her_! She laid the toque down again, but drew a chair to the typewriter table, her back turned to the man and the girl. She could, if she glanced up from her papers, however, see them both in a mirror. She tried not to glance up, but she succeeded about half as often as she failed. The look on Garth's face hurt a great deal worse than the hatpin had done when just now she had jammed the point of it into her head. Oh, it was ridiculous--or heartbreaking--the way some men loved the wrong girls!

"I've been thinking in the night," said Marise in a brisk, cheerful tone, "what fun for us--since we _are_ to be married--to get married at once and give everyone we know the surprise of their young lives!...

What do you say?"

Garth had not expected this at all. In fact, when he'd been sent for at a very early hour, he expected to hear that Marise had "changed her mind." It was easy for her to ask "what he said," knowing that he could say only commonplaces before Zelie Marks; and he believed that Zelie had been invited to remain in the room for precisely this reason.

"I say, 'Great!'" He rose to the occasion, with the memory of Zelie's words and his own drumming through his head. "They despise you. Cad: bounder: lout!" "That's nice of you!--very!" cooed Marise, noticing how his jaw squared, and feeling the tide of her curiosity rise. (_Was_ it love? Or _was_ it the million?) "Well then, we'll just do the deed! How long does it take to get licenses and things?"

Garth kept himself firmly in hand. "Only as long as it takes to buy the license and notify a parson."

"That's what I hoped," said Marise. "I felt sure it was different here from England."

"Shall we--that is, would you care"--(Garth's mouth was dry)--"would you care to be married to-day?"

"Yes," the girl flashed back, "I would care to, if that suits you.

Because, you see, I want it to be done and over before--_anybody knows_.

Except my mother, of course. She won't like the idea one bit. But I'll make her come round."

"I see," said Garth. And he did see. He saw very clearly. But he could not understand, all in a moment like this, why she wanted to marry him without letting Severance know beforehand. It didn't _seem_, just on the face of it, a good sign for Severance. Still, he couldn't be sure. Women were supposed to be very subtle, and he'd never had much time even to try and a.n.a.lyse the strange creatures. Except Mothereen (he'd named her that because she was Irish), the little old woman who'd given him the only mothering he remembered, Garth had never got very near any woman's mentality. He braced himself, and asked, "How soon can you be ready?"

"In an hour--in _less_ than an hour. As soon as I've told Mums," Marise spoke quickly and thickly, over a beating heart. Each moment excited her more and more. She felt herself the heroine of a thrilling drama--a drama where she had to play the star part without any rehearsals, and without ever having read further than the first scene of the first act.

It might be a drama of "stunts," too--as the movie people said: dangerous stunts, where she might have to walk a tightrope with a deep drop underneath. But she wasn't afraid. She would not have thrown over the part now if some other easier one with the same ending had offered.

She didn't recognise herself as she was to-day. But she did not care. It was all Tony's fault. Or perhaps a little Mums' fault too.

"And afterwards?" she heard Garth quietly asking.

"Oh!... Well, the first thing is the fun of surprising everyone. After that--well, I haven't exactly thought yet."

"You had better think," he said. "Much better."

Marise glanced at the back of Zelie's head, then met Miss Marks's eyes in the mirror.

"We'll talk it over presently with Mums. She's so _wise_--and always knows how to do the right thing." The "correct thing" would have been more apt an expression, but Marise wasn't thinking of the fine shades.

She was thinking just then more of Zelie; and the thought of Zelie made her blush, she didn't quite see why!

"Miss Marks," she said, "I may want you by and by to take down several notes for me, letters to some of my most intimate friends, to be sent after--after the wedding. But at this particular instant I fancy there's nothing more for you to do, except--oh yes, do be very nice, and run down to the mail counter, or wherever in the hotel you can buy stamps."

As these instructions were being given, Zelie pencilled with incredible quickness a few words on a sc.r.a.p of paper. This sc.r.a.p she tucked up her sleeve, and a second or two later, as Garth opened the door for her to go out, she contrived to slip the paper into the hand on the k.n.o.b.

"Now I'll call Mums," cried Marise, fearing to risk such a moment alone with this uncla.s.sified wild animal, soon to become her dummy husband.

"Mums is not pleased, because I said I wanted a few words with you before she came in--though she'd be _much_ crosser if she knew I'd let Miss Marks stay. You'll back me up with her, won't you, that my plan--_ours_, I mean--is the best?"

"I think," said Garth, "you don't need much backing from me with your mother, though if you do, I'll give it as well as I know how. But wait a second before she comes. I have a superst.i.tion. I ask that you won't be married in black."

"Oh! But I chose this dress on purpose!" The words escaped before she'd stopped to think.

Garth didn't flush. He was past that. He needed all his blood at his heart. "I supposed you did," he said. "All the same, don't wear it."

"But it's such a pretty dress--and hat. They're new. I like them--better than anything I've got."

"_For this occasion!_ I understand."

"Are you--being sarcastic?" Marise hesitated.