and satisfaction, it was a dinner at the Harriets' or Taylors' to
which he was invited; or a party at the Finchleys' or the
Cranstons', to which he would either escort Sondra or be animated
by the hope of encountering her. And now, also without so many of
the former phases or attempts at subterfuge, which had previously
characterized her curiosity in regard to him, she was at times
openly seeking him out and making opportunities for social contact.
And, of course, these contacts being identical with this typical
kind of group gathering, they seemed to have no special
significance with the more conservative elders.
For although Mrs. Finchley, who was of an especially shrewd and
discerning turn socially, had at first been dubious over the
attentions being showered upon Clyde by her daughter and others,
still observing that Clyde was more and more being entertained, not
only in her own home by the group of which her daughter was a part,
but elsewhere, everywhere, was at last inclined to imagine that he
must be more solidly placed in this world than she had heard, and
later to ask her son and even Sondra concerning him. But receiving
from Sondra only the equivocal information that, since he was Gil
and Bella Griffiths' cousin, and was being taken up by everybody
because he was so charming--even if he didn't have any money--she
couldn't see why she and Stuart should not be allowed to entertain
him also, her mother rested on that for the time being--only
cautioning her daughter under no circumstances to become too
friendly. And Sondra, realizing that in part her mother was right,
yet being so drawn to Clyde was now determined to deceive her, at
least to the extent of being as clandestinely free with Clyde as
she could contrive. And was, so much so that every one who was
privy to the intimate contacts between Clyde and Sondra might have
reported that the actual understanding between them was assuming
an intensity which most certainly would have shocked the elder
Finchleys, could they have known. For apart from what Clyde had
been, and still was dreaming in regard to her, Sondra was truly
being taken with thoughts and moods in regard to him which were
fast verging upon the most destroying aspects of the very profound
chemistry of love. Indeed, in addition to handclasps, kisses and
looks of intense admiration always bestowed when presumably no one
was looking, there were those nebulous and yet strengthening and
lengthening fantasies concerning a future which in some way or
other, not clear to either as yet, was still always to include each
other.
Summer days perhaps, and that soon, in which he and she would be in
a canoe at Twelfth Lake, the long shadows of the trees on the bank
lengthening over the silvery water, the wind rippling the surface
while he paddled and she idled and tortured him with hints of the
future; a certain forest path, grass-sodden and sun-mottled to the
south and west of the Cranston and Phant estates, near theirs,
through which they might canter in June and July to a wonderful
view known as Inspiration Point some seven miles west; the country
fair at Sharon, at which, in a gypsy costume, the essence of
romance itself, she would superintend a booth, or, in her smartest
riding habit, give an exhibition of her horsemanship--teas, dances
in the afternoon and in the moonlight at which, languishing in his
arms, their eyes would speak.
None of the compulsion of the practical. None of the inhibitions
which the dominance and possible future opposition of her parents
might imply. Just love and summer, and idyllic and happy progress
toward an eventual secure and unopposed union which should give him
to her forever.
And in the meantime, in so far as Roberta was concerned, two more
long, dreary, terrifying months going by without that meditated
action on her part which must result once it was taken in Clyde's
undoing. For, as convinced as she was that apart from meditating
and thinking of some way to escape his responsibility, Clyde had no
real intention of marrying her, still, like Clyde, she drifted,
fearing to act really. For in several conferences following that
in which she had indicated that she expected him to marry her, he
had reiterated, if vaguely, a veiled threat that in case she
appealed to his uncle he would not be compelled to marry her, after
all, for he could go elsewhere.
The way he put it was that unless left undisturbed in his present
situation he would be in no position to marry her and furthermore
could not possibly do anything to aid her at the coming time when
most of all she would stand in need of aid--a hint which caused
Roberta to reflect on a hitherto not fully developed vein of
hardness in Clyde, although had she but sufficiently reflected, it
had shown itself at the time that he compelled her to admit him to
her room.
In addition and because she was doing nothing and yet he feared
that at any moment she might, he shifted in part at least from the
attitude of complete indifference, which had availed him up to the
time that she had threatened him, to one of at least simulated
interest and good-will and friendship. For the very precarious
condition in which he found himself was sufficiently terrifying to
evoke more diplomacy than ever before had characterized him.
Besides he was foolish enough to hope, if not exactly believe, that
by once more conducting himself as though he still entertained a
lively sense of the problem that afflicted her and that he was
willing, in case no other way was found, to eventually marry her
(though he could never definitely be persuaded to commit himself as
to this), he could reduce her determination to compel him to act
soon at least to a minimum, and so leave him more time in which to
exhaust every possibility of escape without marriage, and without
being compelled to run away.
And although Roberta sensed the basis of this sudden shift, still
she was so utterly alone and distrait that she was willing to give
ear to Clyde's mock genial, if not exactly affectionate observations
and suggestions. It caused her, at his behest, to wait a while
longer, the while, as he now explained, he would not only have saved
up some money, but devised some plan in connection with his work
which would permit him to leave for a time anyhow, marry her
somewhere and then establish her and the baby as a lawful married
woman somewhere else, while, although he did not explain this just
now, he returned to Lycurgus and sent her such aid as he could. But
on condition, of course, that never anywhere, unless he gave her
permission, must she assert that he had married her, or point to him
in any way as the father of her child. Also it was understood that
she, as she herself had asserted over and over that she would, if
only he would do this--marry her--take steps to free herself on the
ground of desertion, or something, in some place sufficiently
removed from Lycurgus for no one to hear. And that within a
reasonable time after her marriage to him, although he was not at
all satisfied that, assuming that he did marry her, she would.
But Clyde, of course, was insincere in regard to all his overtures
at this time, and really not concerned as to her sincerity or
insincerity. Nor did he have any intention of leaving Lycurgus
even for the moderate length of time that her present extrication
would require unless he had to. For that meant that he would be
separated from Sondra, and such absence, for whatever period, would
most definitely interfere with his plans. And so, on the contrary,
he drifted--thinking most idly at times of some possible fake or
mock marriage such as he had seen in some melodramatic movie--a
fake minister and witnesses combining to deceive some simple
country girl such as Roberta was not, but at such expense of time,
resources, courage and subtlety as Clyde himself, after a little
reflection, was wise enough to see was beyond him.
Again, knowing that, unless some hitherto unforeseen aid should
eventuate, he was heading straight toward a disaster which could
not much longer be obviated, he even allowed himself to dream that,
once the fatal hour was at hand and Roberta, no longer to be put
off by any form of subterfuge, was about to expose him, he might
even flatly deny that he had ever held any such relationship with
her as then she would be charging--rather that at all times his
relationship with her had been that of a department manager to
employee--no more. Terror--no less!
But at the same time, early in May, when Roberta, because of
various gestative signs and ailments, was beginning to explain, as
well as insist, to Clyde that by no stretch of the imagination or
courage could she be expected to retain her position at the factory
or work later than June first, because by then the likelihood of
the girls there beginning to notice something, would be too great
for her to endure, Sondra was beginning to explain that not so much
later than the fourth or fifth of June she and her mother and
Stuart, together with some servants, would be going to their new
lodge at Twelfth Lake in order to supervise certain installations
then being made before the regular season should begin. And after
that, not later than the eighteenth, at which time the Cranstons,
Harriets, and some others would have arrived, including very likely
visits from Bella and Myra, he might expect a week-end invitation
from the Cranstons, with whom, through Bertine, she would arrange
as to this. And after that, the general circumstances proving
fairly propitious, there would be, of course, other week-end
invitations to the Harriets', Phants' and some others who dwelt
there, as well as to the Griffiths' at Greenwood, to which place,
on account of Bella, he could easily come. And during his two
weeks' vacation in July, he could either stop at the Casino, which
was at Pine Point, or perhaps the Cranstons or Harriets, at her
suggestion, might choose to invite him. At any rate, as Clyde
could see, and with no more than such expenditures as, with a
little scrimping during his ordinary working days here, he could
provide for, he might see not a little of that lake life of which
he had read so much in the local papers, to say nothing of Sondra
at one and another of the lodges, the masters of which were not so
inimical to his presence and overtures as were Sondra's parents.
For now it was, and for the first time, as she proceeded to explain
to him that her mother and father, because of his continued and
reported attentions to her, were already beginning to talk of an
extended European tour which might keep her and Stuart and her
mother abroad for at least the next two years. But since, at news
of this, Clyde's face as well as his spirits darkened, and she
herself was sufficiently enmeshed to suffer because of this, she at
once added that he must not feel so bad--he must not; things would
work out well enough, she knew. For at the proper time, and unless
between then and now, something--her own subtle attack if not her
at present feverish interest in Clyde--should have worked to alter
her mother's viewpoint in regard to him--she might be compelled to
take some steps of her own in order to frustrate her mother. Just
what, she was not willing to say at this time, although to Clyde's
overheated imagination it took the form of an elopement and
marriage, which could not then be gainsaid by her parents whatever
they might think. And it was true that in a vague and as yet
repressed way some such thought was beginning to form in Sondra's
mind. For, as she now proceeded to explain to Clyde, it was so
plain that her mother was attempting to steer her in the direction
of a purely social match--the one with the youth who had been
paying her such marked attention the year before. But because of
her present passion for Clyde, as she now gayly declared, it was
not easy to see how she was to be made to comply. "The only
trouble with me is that I'm not of age yet," she here added briskly
and slangily. "They've got me there, of course. But I will be by
next October and they can't do very much with me after that, I want
to let you know. I can marry the person I want, I guess. And if I
can't do it here, well, there are more ways than one to kill a
cat."
The thought was like some sweet, disarranging poison to Clyde. It
fevered and all but betrayed him mentally. If only--if only--it
were not for Roberta now. That terrifying and all but insoluble
problem. But for that, and the opposition of Sondra's parents
which she was thinking she would be able to overcome, did not
heaven itself await him? Sondra, Twelfth Lake, society, wealth,
her love and beauty. He grew not a little wild in thinking of it
all. Once he and she were married, what could Sondra's relatives
do? What, but acquiesce and take them into the glorious bosom of
their resplendent home at Lycurgus or provide for them in some
other way--he to no doubt eventually take some place in connection
with the Finchley Electric Sweeper Company. And then would he not
be the equal, if not the superior, of Gilbert Griffiths himself and
all those others who originally had ignored him here--joint heir
with Stuart to all the Finchley means. And with Sondra as the
central or crowning jewel to so much sudden and such Aladdin-like
splendor.
No thought as to how he was to overcome the time between now and
October. No serious consideration of the fact that Roberta then
and there was demanding that he marry her. He could put her off,
he thought. And yet, at the same time, he was painfully and
nervously conscious of the fact that at no period in his life
before had he been so treacherously poised at the very brink of
disaster. It might be his duty as the world would see it--his
mother would say so--to at least extricate Roberta. But in the
case of Esta, who had come to her rescue? Her lover? He had
walked off from her without a qualm and she had not died. And why,
when Roberta was no worse off than his sister had been, why should
she seek to destroy him in this way? Force him to do something
which would be little less than social, artistic, passional or
emotional assassination? And when later, if she would but spare
him for this, he could do so much more for her--with Sondra's money
of course. He could not and would not let her do this to him. His
life would be ruined!
Chapter 40
Two incidents which occurred at this time tended still more to
sharpen the contrary points of view holding between Clyde and
Roberta. One of these was no more than a glimpse which Roberta had
one evening of Clyde pausing at the Central Avenue curb in front of
the post-office to say a few words to Arabella Stark, who in a
large and impressive-looking car, was waiting for her father who
was still in the Stark Building opposite. And Miss Stark,
fashionably outfitted according to the season, her world and her
own pretentious taste, was affectedly posed at the wheel, not only
for the benefit of Clyde but the public in general. And to
Roberta, who by now was reduced to the verge of distraction between
Clyde's delay and her determination to compel him to act in her
behalf, she appeared to be little less than an epitome of all the
security, luxury and freedom from responsibility which so enticed
and hence caused Clyde to delay and be as indifferent as possible
to the dire state which confronted her. For, alas, apart from this
claim of her condition, what had she to offer him comparable to all
he would be giving up in case he acceded to her request? Nothing--
a thought which was far from encouraging.
Yet, at this moment contrasting her own wretched and neglected
state with that of this Miss Stark, for example, she found herself
a prey to an even more complaining and antagonistic mood than had
hitherto characterized her. It was not right. It was not fair.
For during the several weeks that had passed since last they had
discussed this matter, Clyde had scarcely said a word to her at the
factory or elsewhere, let alone called upon her at her room,
fearing as he did the customary inquiry which he could not satisfy.
And this caused her to feel that not only was he neglecting but
resenting her most sharply.
And yet as she walked home from this trivial and fairly representative
scene, her heart was not nearly so angry as it was sad and sore
because of the love and comfort that had vanished and was not likely
ever to come again... ever... ever... ever. Oh, how
terrible,... how terrible!
On the other hand, Clyde, and at approximately this same time, was
called upon to witness a scene identified with Roberta, which, as
some might think, only an ironic and even malicious fate could have
intended or permitted to come to pass. For motoring north the
following Sunday to Arrow Lake to the lodge of the Trumbulls' to
take advantage of an early spring week-end planned by Sondra, the
party on nearing Biltz, which was in the direct line of the trip,
was compelled to detour east in the direction of Roberta's home.
And coming finally to a north and south road which ran directly
from Trippettsville past the Alden farm, they turned north into
that. And a few minutes later, came directly to the corner
adjoining the Alden farm, where an east and west road led to Biltz.
Here Tracy Trumbull, driving at the time, requested that some one
should get out and inquire at the adjacent farm-house as to whether
this road did lead to Biltz. And Clyde, being nearest to one door,
jumped out. And then, glancing at the name on the mail-box which
stood at the junction and evidently belonged to the extremely
dilapidated old farm-house on the rise above, he was not a little
astonished to note that the name was that of Titus Alden--Roberta's
father. Also, as it instantly came to him, since she had described
her parents as being near Biltz, this must be her home. It gave
him pause, caused him for the moment to hesitate as to whether to
go on or not, for once he had given Roberta a small picture of
himself, and she might have shown it up here. Again the mere
identification of this lorn, dilapidated realm with Roberta and
hence himself, was sufficient to cause him to wish to turn and run.
But Sondra, who was sitting next him in the car and now noting his
hesitation, called: "What's the matter, Clyde? Afraid of the bow-
wow?" And he, realizing instantly that they would comment further
on his actions if he did not proceed at once, started up the path.
But the effect of this house, once he contemplated it thoroughly,
was sufficient to arouse in his brain the most troubled and
miserable of thoughts. For what a house, to be sure! So lonely
and bare, even in this bright, spring weather! The decayed and
sagging roof. The broken chimney to the north--rough lumps of
cemented field stones lying at its base; the sagging and semi-
toppling chimney to the south, sustained in place by a log chain.
The unkempt path from the road below, which slowly he ascended! He
was not a little dejected by the broken and displaced stones which
served as steps before the front door. And the unpainted
dilapidated out-buildings, all the more dreary because of these
others.
"Gee!" To think that this was Roberta's home. And to think, in
the face of all that he now aspired to in connection with Sondra
and this social group at Lycurgus, she should be demanding that he
marry her! And Sondra in the car with him here to see--if not
know. The poverty! The reduced grimness of it all. How far he
had traveled away from just such a beginning as this!
With a weakening and sickening sensation at the pit of his stomach,
as of some blow administered there, he now approached the door.
And then, as if to further distress him, if that were possible, the
door was opened by Titus Alden, who, in an old, thread-bare and
out-at-elbows coat, as well as baggy, worn, jean trousers and
rough, shineless, ill-fitting country shoes, desired by his look to
know what he wanted. And Clyde, being taken aback by the clothes,
as well as a marked resemblance to Roberta about the eyes and
mouth, now as swiftly as possible asked if the east and west road
below ran through Biltz and joined the main highway north. And
although he would have preferred a quick "yes" so that he might
have turned and gone, Titus preferred to step down into the yard
and then, with a gesture of the arm, indicate that if they wanted
to strike a really good part of the road, they had better follow
this Trippettsville north and south road for at least two more
miles, and then turn west. Clyde thanked him briefly and turned
almost before he had finished and hurried away.
For, as he now recalled, and with an enormous sense of depression,
Roberta was thinking and at this very time, that soon now, and in
the face of all Lycurgus had to offer him--Sondra--the coming
spring and summer--the love and romance, gayety, position, power--
he was going to give all that up and go away with and marry her.
Sneak away to some out-of-the-way place! Oh, how horrible! And
with a child at his age! Oh, why had he ever been so foolish and
weak as to identify himself with her in this intimate way? Just
because of a few lonely evenings! Oh, why, why couldn't he have
waited and then this other world would have opened up to him just
the same? If only he could have waited!
And now unquestionably, unless he could speedily and easily
disengage himself from her, all this other splendid recognition
would be destined to be withdrawn from him, and this other world
from which he sprang might extend its gloomy, poverty-stricken arms
to him and envelop him once more, just as the poverty of his family
had enveloped and almost strangled him from the first. And it even
occurred to him, in a vague way for the first time, how strange it
was that this girl and he, whose origin had been strikingly
similar, should have been so drawn to each other in the beginning.
Why should it have been? How strange life was, anyway? But even
more harrowing than this, was the problem of a way out that was
before him. And his mind from now on, on this trip, was once more
searching for some solution. A word of complaint from Roberta or
her parents to his uncle or Gilbert, and assuredly he would be done
for.
The thought so troubled him that once in the car, and although
previously he had been chattering along with the others about what
might be in store ahead in the way of divertissement, he now sat
silent. And Sondra, who sat next to him and who previously had
been whispering at intervals of her plans for the summer, now,
instead of resuming the patter, whispered: "What come over de
sweet phing?" (When Clyde appeared to be the least reduced in mind
she most affected this patter with him, since it had an almost
electric, if sweetly tormenting effect on him. "His baby-talking
girl," he sometimes called her.) "Facey all dark now. Little
while ago facey all smiles. Come make facey all nice again. Smile
at Sondra. Squeeze Sondra's arm like good boy, Clyde."
She turned and looked up into his eyes to see what if any effect
this baby-worded cajolery was having, and Clyde did his best to
brighten, of course. But even so, and in the face of all this
amazingly wonderful love on her part for him, the specter of
Roberta and all that she represented now in connection with all
this, was ever before him--her state, her very recent edict in
regard to it, the obvious impossibility of doing anything now but
go away with her.
Why--rather than let himself in for a thing like that--would it not
be better, and even though he lost Sondra once and for all, for him
to decamp as in the instance of the slain child in Kansas City--and
be heard of nevermore here. But then he would lose Sondra, his
connections here, and his uncle--this world! The loss! The loss!
The misery of once more drifting about here and there; of being
compelled to write his mother once more concerning certain things
about his flight, which some one writing from here might explain to
her afterwards--and so much more damagingly. And the thoughts
concerning him on the part of his relatives! And of late he had
been writing his mother that he was doing so well. What was it
about his life that made things like this happen to him? Was this
what his life was to be like? Running away from one situation and
another just to start all over somewhere else--perhaps only to be
compelled to flee from something worse. No, he could not run away
again. He must face it and solve it in some way. He must!
God!
Chapter 41
The fifth of June arriving, the Finchleys departed as Sondra had
indicated, but not without a most urgent request from her that he
be prepared to come to the Cranstons' either the second or third
week-end following--she to advise him definitely later--a departure
which so affected Clyde that he could scarcely think what to do
with himself in her absence, depressed as he was by the tangle
which Roberta's condition presented. And exactly at this time
also, Roberta's fears and demands had become so urgent that it was
really no longer possible for him to assure her that if she would
but wait a little while longer, he would be prepared to act in her
behalf. Plead as he might, her case, as she saw it, was at last
critical and no longer to be trifled with in any way. Her figure,
as she insisted (although this was largely imaginative on her
part), had altered to such an extent that it would not be possible
for her longer to conceal it, and all those who worked with her at
the factory were soon bound to know. She could no longer work or
sleep with any comfort--she must not stay here any more. She was
having preliminary pains--purely imaginary ones in her case. He
must marry her now, as he had indicated he would, and leave with
her at once--for some place--any place, really--near or far--so
long as she was extricated from this present terrible danger. And
she would agree, as she now all but pleaded, to let him go his way
again as soon as their child was born--truly--and would not ask any
more of him ever--ever. But now, this very week--not later than
the fifteenth at the latest--he must arrange to see her through
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