Sound of the Trumpet (6 page)

So by the time her mother arrived, half the work of healing was done, because the daughter was ready to accept any suggestions that her mother would have.

Lisle saw that her mother was more disturbed than she had owned over the telephone. She immediately set to work to soothe her, so that when they sat down before a delightful fire in the library, Lisle with her bit of embroidery in her lap and her gold thimble on her slender finger, there was a real smile on her face, and no trace of tears left.

The mother was sitting in her own comfortable chair, with her head back, a look of rest beginning to come over her weary features. And so they began to talk.

“Now, Lisle, my dear, I think if I were you I would just put this whole matter out of mind entirely and forget it,” began her mother.

“Why, yes, Mother, of course,” said Lisle briskly. “But you did see what I meant when I said Victor was changed, didn’t you?”

“I certainly did!” said Mrs. Kingsley. “I couldn’t have believed it possible. It seems incredible. But then, I suppose that is the trend of the times. A ruthless manner of thought and speech that, of course, sometimes covers the deeper, lovely feelings that used to be counted the better emotions. Of course, it may be caused by a lingering adolescence. A dislike to speak in gentler terms. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out on my way home, but I really can’t fully understand it. I have always been so sure that Victor was courteous and that he was deeply attached to you. I couldn’t have believed that he would be so blunt and rude as he was today.”

“Well, Mother, surely you see after what happened today that I simply
can’t
go to that party! You understand how I feel about it, don’t you?”

“Why, of course, dear! I’ve been thinking of that, too. I have been hoping that something will occur in time to stop that party entirely. In fact, I can’t see how his mother can bear to go on with a party when her own son is liable to have to go away to war very soon. Parties are occasions for gaiety and joy, and not for sorrowful times. One doesn’t want great hordes of people around when the heart is aching with imminent partings in the offing.”

“Yes, I know,” said Lisle. “I don’t see how she can. But, Mother, somehow it never seemed to me that she cared for her son that way. She cares more for how he will look to the world than for what he is. She—wants him to—show off, Mother! She really does. I think she is a great deal to blame for the way Victor thinks and acts, now that he is grown up. She has taught him to look out for such things, to get everything for
himself
, get all the breaks, and evade all the hard work and hard things.”

“Yes, I’m afraid she is to blame a great deal. But still, Victor has a good mind. He might think these things out for himself.”

“Mother, I don’t think he has been taught to think, not reasonably. I think in all the teaching he has had,
himself
has always been made the center, and now that he has reached the age when he considers himself grown up, he feels that he can assert himself and take what he wants out of life, and nobody dares to prevent him. I don’t think I ever really allowed myself to think that clear through to the conclusion before. But for several years, whenever I’ve been seeing him for a few hours, at a party or some game, I have noticed that more and more in him, although for the sake of old times I hated to admit it. But I couldn’t help seeing it, and it troubled me a lot. It somehow interfered with all my early standards and spoiled a lot of my childhood memories.”

“My dear! Why did you never say anything about it before?”

“Well, I don’t know. I think I did come near telling you several times during vacation, but I always hesitated because it seemed to me that if I admitted such a thing enough to tell you about it, that would make it true. And I just couldn’t bear to spoil things. But this time, well, I was really upset when I heard he was taking lunch with us, or I wouldn’t have let you see it. You see, he said a lot of things yesterday, when he took me to dinner and for the evening, that disturbed me, and I hadn’t had a chance to think what I could say in reply that would make him see what I meant. I never like to quarrel, you know. But there were some things he took for granted that I couldn’t let go, and I wanted a chance to think them over before I saw him again. But oh, Mother, the way he talked this afternoon, that was
awful
! Taking it for granted he was going to
marry
me, just like that, without ever having asked me what I thought about it! It was as if he were making a bargain, or buying a horse or a dog. I just hated it! Even if I’d cared anything about him I would have hated it! Do you think I was wrong, Mother? Was I just a silly child?”

“I certainly do not think so, my dear. You were perfectly right. I was deeply offended for you myself. I was outraged at him! I felt he was fairly insulting. But, my dear, I blame myself for not having seen this coming and saved you from the experience this afternoon.”

“No, Mother, you mustn’t blame yourself. I should have told you before. Though those things that made me so indignant before were nothing to what he said this afternoon. Is marriage like that, Mother, just a sort of commercial arrangement? Mother, Daddy wasn’t like that with you, was he? I’m sure he wasn’t. He didn’t just tell you you had to marry him at a certain time, not even asking you if you wanted to. Men can’t do that, can they? Because if they can, I will never,
never
get married. Not even if I thought I loved a man would I just walk after him when he said I had to. Would you, Mother?”

There were tears in her eyes and voice now, and she was almost on the verge of breaking down again.

“Why of course not, dear. That is not true marriage. There is no real marriage where there is not love, and true love does not order the beloved one. A joyful marriage can only be where there is real love and tender courtship, and a real lover would never force his attentions on one. I cannot think that Victor understands, or that he is really grown up. His whole performance this afternoon was like a selfish, willful child.”

“But, Mother, I think he believes that is the modern way, and that you and I are old-fashioned. That is what makes it all so hopeless. Not hopeless either, Mother, for I do not feel it matters very much if he is like that. Oh, he is an old friend, I know, and one hates to lose the companion of one’s childhood. But he isn’t important to me, really, anymore.”

“Are you sure, my dear? Oh, I would be so glad if I could be certain that that is true! For nothing that I can think of would seem more terrible to me than to have you married to a young man with such standards. Or brokenhearted because he had turned out to be what he evidently has become. I used to be so glad that you had a boyfriend like Victor Vandingham, but now I am greatly thankful we have discovered what he is before it is forever too late! Oh, my dear!”

“Well, now Emi—I beg your pardon, Mother Kingsley—just what fault do you have to find with me? What’s the matter with me that you’re making such a scene about? You certainly put on a dramatic act in the tearoom. I didn’t know either of you were capable of that. I thought you were too well bred.”

It was Victor Vandingham’s voice that drawled into the conversation lazily. They had not heard him coming. He had just walked into the house, much as he used to do in the old days when he was a mere child, listened a moment to locate the low voices he could hear, and then walked straight to the library door. The door had opened stealthily, and he stood just behind Mrs. Kingsley’s chair before he spoke. Then he calmly stalked over to an unoccupied chair near the fire and slumped down into it gracefully, his hat in his hand swinging carelessly, very nonchalantly, and he looked from the mother to the daughter and back again.

“Well, really!” said Mrs. Kingsley, springing to her feet, her pleasant eyes fairly snapping with indignation, her whole body expressing dignity and utter outrage. “Since when did you start walking into people’s homes and interrupting private conversations? Haven’t you humiliated us enough today without this? Of course, in your childhood days, when you were a friend of the family, you had the privilege of walking in unannounced, but I consider that by your conversation this afternoon you forfeited that right. I certainly am disappointed in you, Victor, and—ashamed of you!”

“Now what did I do, I ask you? Didn’t I ask your daughter to marry me? What is humiliating about that?”

“You announced to my daughter that you were
going
to marry her,” said Mrs. Kingsley. “That was not the way an offer of marriage is usually made. Especially between young people who have seen very little of each other for nearly four years and who are both rather young to be even considering marriage at present. But even if you were not so young, you certainly know that there are ways of conducting a suit for a girl’s hand that you have entirely ignored. Why would you think any girl would want to marry you with such an invitation? The most primitive savage would know better than that.”

A wide, devilish grin overspread the handsome face of the boy.

“Oh, you mean all that antique junk about love? Why, where have you been that you don’t know that that kind of mush is entirely out of date? You’ve known me for years. You know what my family is, and that I am financially able to support your daughter in a style even better than she has been accustomed to all her life. What’s the idea of your giving me the high hat that way? Haven’t I a right to demand certain things of the girl I’ve decided to marry? You’ve kept her down to your own notions so long that she really doesn’t have a mind of her own, and you’ve made her old-fashioned to the extent that she can scarcely hold her own with young people of her age. I say it’s a shame, and I was only trying to be frank and make you understand. But if you can’t see it that way, just call it a joke and let it go at that. I was only joking, and I certainly think you both ought to be able to take a joke. You used to be able to see a joke. What’s become of your sense of humor?”

“I see no humor in making a joke of sacred things,” said Mrs. Kingsley.

“The bunk! What’s sacred about what we were talking about, I’d like to know? We weren’t talking about religion.”

“You were talking about marriage!” said the lady coldly. “It is the most sacred relation on earth. It is the foundation of the family and of all right human relations.”

“Not anymore,” said the boy importantly. “Not since divorce has become so common, so almost universal. You can’t put over that old stuff about marriage being sacred. I tell you, it’s been clearly demonstrated today that marriage is what you want to make of it, and if the man is the head of the house, it’s his business to order what the marriage will be, see? So it’s up to the man! And I was just showing you that I understand my part in this arrangement.” He grinned affably at them as they sat there speechless, unable to believe their senses that their erstwhile friend could have so changed.

“And just what have you come here for?” asked the mother haughtily. “I thought when you first came in that you had come to apologize for all your rudeness, but you seem only to be adding more insult to what you have already said.”

Then the impish grin broke out on the boy’s face once more, an echo of the look he used to wear when he came to tell some joke after school when he was a child.

“Say, I was just kidding! Can’t you understand? I just came over to say so, and to tell you I really want to take Lisle to that football game. Come on, Lisle, forget it all and let’s have a swell time the way we used to do!”

“I don’t think that will be possible,” said Lisle with a haughty lift of her pretty chin. “I’m afraid I couldn’t forget some of the awful things you have been saying.”

“But haven’t I just told you I was only kidding?”

“Yes,” said the girl, with an understanding look in her young eyes that seemed suddenly to be looking deep into life and knowing many things that had hitherto been hidden. “I know you
say
you were only kidding, but I don’t believe that! I have known you a good many years, Victor, and I know pretty well when you are telling the truth and when you are only kidding, and I don’t believe that you are entirely amusing yourself by taking us for a ride. I am quite sure that you were trying out a new standard of life which you have recently acquired, and I don’t like it. I don’t want to have anything to do with it, and I won’t hear any more about it. And now if you will excuse me, I have a lesson to prepare for my Red Cross work this evening.”

Lisle rose and started toward the door, but suddenly Victor sprang to his feet and burst forth in his old impulsive way, walking over to her and grasping her wrists familiarly.

“Aw, don’t be that way, Lisle! Be a good sport and go with me to that game. I really want you, and I really came after you, and I swear I’ll make you have a good time. Come on and let me show you I mean it.”

Lisle drew away from him.

“No, Victor, I can’t go. I don’t want to go. I’m fed up with this whole subject, and I would much rather stay at home and work.”

“Aw, now, Lisle. You aren’t going to be a flat tire when I went to all the trouble to get these special tickets just for you. You might try me out just for one hour and let me prove to you that I’m not so black as you have tried to paint me. Come on, Lisle, for the sake of old times, and the days when you and I were pals! I can’t bear to have you this way. It isn’t like you. It isn’t according to your old code. You always were fair with everybody, and you’re not fair with me now when I’ve apologized for my thoughtlessness. I’m only asking another chance to prove to you that I’m the same old guy you used to like. Come on, Lisle! Don’t be a quitter!”

Lisle looked troubled and drew her hands away.

“I’m not a quitter, Victor, but it seems to me that you are. You had good standards and principles when we were children, and now you have cast them all aside. I do not like the way you talk.”

“Say, Lisle, be yourself, and give me another chance to show you. Just one more chance, Lisle! Be a little fair to an old friend!”

Victor knew how to make his handsome eyes plead, how to use his expressive voice in pretty arguments, how to throw utter sorrow and despair into his mobile face, until one glance his way would make strong argument for him, sowing doubt in the mind whether one had been quite fair to him.