The Open Question Part 114

"Promise me to forget the old evil compact."

"Ethan, you'll regret this," she said, dropping her hands; "it's not you who ask it of me--it's all those others." She nodded towards the dark ma.s.s of shadow made by the Fort against the gay autumnal background of scarlet maple and golden elm. "It's the Ganos--it's _she_ most of all. I might have known. If you live under her roof, you come under her law."

She knew him too well to imagine she could stand out successfully against his resolution that the compact should be abandoned. What little by little helped to heal her spirit was presently her belief that he not only willed the new course, but desired it. Of that he had fully persuaded her--he had almost persuaded himself.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

They were still discussing plans of travel, or, rather, as the days went on, plans of avoiding travel.

"Italy is a long way off," Ethan had said; "we'll go there another year."

Val fought hard and long against abandoning her darling scheme of spending the winter abroad, not giving her persistency its right name.

To Ethan's "Why?" she would answer, coaxingly, "I am so amused abroad."

"Dear child, you're amused everywhere."

"It's unfair to take advantage of that."

He did not say so, but he dreaded for her the fatigues of protracted travel. Still, he saw it was imperative they should winter in some warm place. Val's series of colds and threatened delicacy were instinctively avoided in their discussion of plans; but these considerations were seldom out of her husband's mind. As he visualized the coming months, Ethan thought, man-like and naturally enough, "Val will have plenty to occupy her, but I--I must find work to help me through the time." He cast about for the saving grace of hard labor. "I will write my Political Confessions," he said to himself; "just my case has never been put." And he set about sifting his books and notes; ordering government and party reports; indulging freely in the beguiling pastime of "collecting material." About this time he was deep in correspondence with a group of young men who had formerly rallied round him in Boston and New York, but whom, as he now saw, he had too much neglected since his marriage. He felt anew that these men, organized, led, supplied with the sinews of war, had it in them to render America a sorely needed service.

"Val," he said, one day, "how many people can we put up comfortably here?"

She opened her eyes.

"Guests?"

"Yes."

"I thought we were going away ourselves."

"So we are in a fortnight or so, if we can decide where. I should like to have some men here for a few days, if you don't mind."

She turned her head, and looked out of the window.

"Who are the men you want to ask--relations?"

"Relations! No. What made you think-- Besides, you know I haven't any but De Poincy."

"Y--yes. Still, I couldn't imagine, just at first, that you'd want a lot of strangers here--now."

"Not if you object, of course. But, since you seemed quite ready to set off to Persia or China at any moment, I couldn't be expected to know you objected to strangers."

"Whom did you want?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I was thinking of the two Careys, and Williams and Dunbar."

"The men who are trying to make you get up a Labor paper?"

"The men that _I'm_ trying to make devote their great talents, their lives, to saving the country."

There was reproach in his tone, even a kind of hardness that had come into his manner more than once of late. His usually quick-following fit of remorseful tenderness never quite healed the hurt.

"Of course, ask your friends if you like."

She got up and went out of the room. Back and forth under the big tulip-tree she walked in the crisp October air, commanding her face to a pale incommunicativeness, but clinching and unclinching her hands.

A deep discouragement had been growing upon her at Ethan's feverish eagerness to get to work. "You don't seem to have any time at all for play nowadays," she had said to him, half laughing, more than once. He sat over his writing-table all day, and he read late into the night.

For days and days they had not been alone in the old idle blessed way of lovers, and never had she needed him so much. "How shall I be able to go on," she said to herself, "unless he keeps close beside me?"

It was at a garden-party at Julia's that Val went across the lawn to Ethan at the end of a game of tennis, and said:

"_I'd_ like to give a party at the Fort before we go. What do you think?"

"What kind of a party?"

"A ball. We could light up the grounds and make it look lovely. There's never been a big party at the Fort."

"Well, I don't mind. But you haven't much time now to get it up."

"Let's go and find Julia and Mr. Scherer, and talk it over."

Mrs. Otway told them that Julia had gone into the house for an ice, and they must do likewise. As they pa.s.sed through the parlor they noticed a group about a portrait of Mrs. Otway, taken in her youth. Some of her neighbors were discussing in discreet undertones whether it was credible that their rotund hostess ever looked like this daughter of the G.o.ds.

"I'm sure she did," said Val; "my father has often told me."

"She ought to have died young," said a stranger standing by. "To have looked like that was a great achievement, but the dear lady has cancelled it."

As they moved away Val tried to throw off the impression the speech had made upon her by whispering to Ethan:

"Men seem to forget women have any reason for living except to please the masculine eye." Winning no response, she looked up, laughing. "One comfort of not being a beauty is that people aren't forever remarking how you change."

"Oh, we can do wonders in the way of change without being beauties."

They found Julia, and arranged that she and Tom Scherer should come over in the evening and discuss the ball. The rumor of it went abroad, and little else was talked of in New Plymouth for the intervening days.

Val and Julia sat on the veranda at the Fort the evening after, making out lists of invitations. After all, some of Ethan's friends had been telegraphed to, and were coming from a distance. Mrs. Ball was expected, with all her circle. Val was asking even Baby Whittaker, of abhorred memory.

Ethan, with Scherer and Harry Wilbur, was walking up and down the gravel-path, smoking and talking. Ethan suddenly called out:

"You'd better go in-doors, Val."

"Go in! Why?"