Edith Wharton - SSC 09 by Human Nature (v2.1) Read Free Book Online Page B

to
other people to proclaim their merits! And I don’t believe Stephen does feel as
they’d like you to think. If he does, he ought to be kicked. If—if complicated
family reasons obliged Mrs. Glenn to separate herself from him when he was a
baby, the way she mourned for him all those years, and her devotion since
they’ve come together again, have atoned a thousandfold for that old
unhappiness; and no one knows it better than Stephen.”
                 The
girl received this without protesting. “I’m so glad—so glad.” There was a new
vibration in her voice; she looked up gravely. “I’ve always wanted to love Mrs. Glenn the best.”
                 “Well,
you’d better; especially if you love Stephen.”
                 “Oh,
I do love him,” she said simply. “But of course I understand his feeling as he
does about the Browns.”
                 I
hesitated, not knowing how I ought to answer the question I detected under
this; but at length I said: “Stephen, at any rate, must feel that Mrs. Brown
has no business to insinuate anything against his mother. He ought to put a
stop to that.” She met the suggestion with a sigh, and stood up to join another
group. “Thora Dacy may yet save us!” I thought, as my gaze followed her light
figure across the room.
                 I
had half a mind to write of that meeting to Stephen or to his mother; but the
weeks passed while I procrastinated, and one day I received a note from
Stephen. He wrote (with many messages from Mrs. Glenn) to give me their new
address, and to tell me that he was hard at work at his painting, and doing a
“promising portrait of mother Kit.” He signed himself my affectionate Steve,
and added underneath: “So glad you’ve come across little Thora. She took a most
tremendous shine to you. Do please be nice to her; she’s a dear child. But
don’t encourage any illusions about me, please; marrying’s not in my
programme.” “So that’s that,” I thought, and tore the letter up rather
impatiently. I wondered if Thora Dacy already knew that her illusions were not
to be encouraged.
                   
     
  IX.
 
 
                 The
months went by, and I heard no more from my friends. Summer came round again,
and with it the date of my six weeks’ holiday, which I purposed to take that
year in Europe. Two years had passed since I had last seen Mrs. Glenn, and
during that time I had received only two or three brief notes from her,
thanking me for Christmas wishes, or telling me that Stephen was certainly
better, though he would take no care of himself. But several months had passed
since the date of her last report.
                 I
had meant to spend my vacation in a trip in southwestern France, and on the way
over I decided to invite Stephen Glenn to join me. I therefore made direct for
Paris, and the next morning rang him up at Mrs. Glenn’s. Mrs. Brown’s voice met
me in reply, informing me that Stephen was no longer living with his mother.
“Read the riot act to us all a few months ago—said he wanted to be independent.
You know his fads. Dear Catherine was foolishly upset. As I said to her … yes,
I’ll give you his address; but poor Steve’s not well just now … Oh, go on a
trip with you? No; I’m afraid there’s no chance of that. The truth is, he told
us he didn’t want to be bothered—rather warned us off the premises; even poor
old Boy; and you know he adores Boy. I haven’t seen him myself for several
days. But you can try … oh, of course, you can try … No; I’m afraid you can’t
see Catherine either—not just at present. She’s been ill too—feverish; worrying
about her naughty Steve, I suspect. I’m mounting guard for a few days, and not
letting her see anybody till her temperature goes down. And would you do me a
favour? Don’t write—don’t let her know you’re here. Not for a day or two, I
mean … She’d be