The Cords of Vanity. A Comedy of Shirking

    In that muslin dress, with that full soft hair 
  And that jessamine blossom at her breast.''

'But I am not permitted to wear flowers when Mr. Townsend is about,' said Bettie. 'Did you know, Jo, that he is crazy about that too?'

'Well—! Anyhow, Meredith is full of very beautiful sentiments,' said Mr. Clarriker, 'and I have always been particularly fond of that piece. It is called 'Ox Italians.'' 

'Yes, I have been previously affected by it,' said I, 'and very deeply moved.'

'And so—as I was about to observe, Miss Hamlyn,—you will notice that the poet Meredith gowned one of the most beautiful characters he ever created in white, and laid great stress upon the fact that her beauty was immeasurably enhanced by the dainty simplicity of her muslin dress. This fabric, indeed, suits all types of faces and figures, and is Economical too, especially the present popular mercerised waistings and vestings that are fast invading the realm of silks. We show at our Emporium an immense quantity of these beautiful goods, in more than a hundred styles, elaborate enough for the most formal occasions, at fifty and seventy-five cents a yard; and—as I was about to observe, Miss Hamlyn,—I would indeed esteem it a favour should you permit me to send up a few samples to-morrow, from which to make a selection at, I need not add, my personal expense.

'You see, Mr. Townsend,' he continued, more inclusively, 'we have no florists in Fairhaven, and I have heard that candy—' He talked on, hygienically now…. 

4

'And that,' said I, when Mr. Clarriker had gone, 'is what you are actually considering! I have always believed Dickens invented that man to go into one of the latter chapters of Edwin Drood. It is the solitary way of explaining certain people,—that they were invented by some fagged novelist who unfortunately died before he finished the book they were to be locked up in. As it was, they got loose, to annoy you by their incredibility. No actual human being, you know, would suggest a white shirtwaist as a substitute for a box of candy.'

'Oh, I have seen worse,' said Bettie, as in meditation. 'It's just Jo's way of expressing the fact that I am stupendously beautiful in white. Poor dear, my loveliness went to his head, I suppose, and got tangled with next week's advertisement for the Gazette. Anyhow, he is a deal more considerate than you. For instance, I was crazy to go to the show on Tuesday night, and Josiah Clarriker was the only person who thought to ask me, even though he is one of those little fireside companions who always get so syrupy whenever they take you anywhere that you simply can't stand it. The combination both prevented my acceptance and accentuated his devotion; and quite frankly, Robin, I am thinking of him, for at bottom Jo is a dear.'

I laid one hand on each of Bettie's shoulders; and it was in my mind at the time that this was the gesture of a comrade, and had not any sexual tinge at all. I wished that Bettie had better teeth, of course, but that could not be helped.

'You are to marry me as soon as may be possible,' said I, 'and preferably to-morrow afternoon. Avis has thrown me over, God bless her, and I am free,—until of course you take charge of me. There was a clever woman once who told me I was not fit to be the captain of my soul, though I would make an admirable lieutenant. She was right. It is understood you are to henpeck me to your heart's content and to my ultimate salvation.'

'I shall assuredly not marry you,' observed Miss Hamlyn, 'until you have at least asked me to do so. And besides, how dared she throw you over—!'

'But I don't intend to ask you, for I have not a single bribe to offer. I merely intend to marry you. I am a ne'er-do-well, a debauchee, a tippler, a compendium of all the vices you care to mention. I am not a bit in love with you, and as any woman will forewarn you, I am sure to make you a vile husband. Your solitary chance is to bully me into temperance and propriety and common-sense, with precisely seven million probabilities against you, because I am a seasoned and accomplished liar. Can you do that bullying, Bettie,—and keep it up, I mean?'

And she was silent for a while. 'Robin,' she said, at last, 'you'll never understand why women like you. You will always think it is because they admire you for some quality or another. It is really because they pity you. You are such a baby, riding for a fall—No, I don't mean the boyishness you trade upon. I have known for a long while all that was just put on. And, oh, how hard you've tried to be a boy of late!'

'And I thought I had fooled you, Bettie! Well, I never could. I am sorry, though, if I have been annoyingly clumsy—'

'But you were doing it for me,' she said. 'You were doing it because you thought I'd like it. Oh, can't you understand that I know you are worthless, and that you have never loved any human being in all your life except that flibbertigibbet Stella Blagden, and that I know, too, you have so rarely failed me! If you were an admirable person, or a person with commendable instincts, or an unselfish person, or if you were even in love with me, it wouldn't count of course. It is because you are none of these things that it counts for so much to see you honest with me—sometimes,—and even to see you scheming and play-acting—and so transparently!—just to bring about a little pleasure for me. Oh, Robin, I am afraid that nowadays I love you because of your vices!'

'And I you because of your virtues,' said I; 'so that there is no possible apprehension of either affection ever going into bankruptcy. Therefore the affair is settled; and we will be married in November.'

'Well,' Bettie said, 'I suppose that somebody has to break you of this habit of getting married next November—'

Then, and only then, my hands were lifted from her shoulders. And we began to talk composedly of more impersonal matters.

5

It was two days later that John Charteris came to Fairhaven; and I met him the same afternoon upon Cambridge street. The little man stopped short and in full view of the public achieved what, had he been a child, were most properly describable as making a face at me.

'That,' he explained, 'expresses the involuntary confusion of Belial on re-encountering the anchorite who escaped his diabolical machinations. But, oh, dear me! haven't you been translated yet? Why, I thought the carriage would have called long ago, just as it did for Elijah.'

'Now, don't be an ass, John. I was rather idiotic, I suppose—'

'Of course you were,' he said, as we shook hands. 'It is your unfailing charm. You silly boy, I came from the pleasantest sort of house-party at Matocton because I heard you were here, and I have been foolish enough to miss you. Anne and the others don't arrive until October. Oh, you adorable child, I have read the last book, and every one of the short stories as well, and I want to tell you that in their own peculiar line the two volumes are masterpieces. Anne wept and chuckled over them, and so did I, with an equal lack of restraint; only it was over the noble and self-sacrificing portions that Anne wept, and she laughed at the places where you were droll intentionally. Whereas I—!! Well, we will let the aposiopesis stand.'

'Of course,' I sulkily observed, 'if you have simply come to Fairhaven to make fun of me, I can only pity your limitations.'

He spoke in quite another voice. 'You silly boy, it was not at all for that. I think you must know I have read what you have published thus far with something more than interest; but I wanted to tell you this in so many words. Afield is not perhaps an impeccable masterwork, if one may be thus brutally frank; but the woman—modeled after discretion will not inquire whom,—is distinctly good. And what, with you only twenty-five, does A field not promise! Child, you have found your metier. Now I shall look