_ CHAPTER XIX
"Mrs. Travers! Mr. Brown! Mr. Travers! Mr. Brown!"
The hotel pages, smart-looking in their tight-fitting uniforms with gold braid and buttons, hurried here and there, scurrying through the lobbies and drawing-rooms, calling out the names of guests who were wanted.
It was five o'clock and the bustle at the hotel was at its height. Guests were constantly arriving from train and steamer; others were departing, tipping their way out royally. Porters, their backs bent under the weight of heavy baggage, and waiters, their trays heaped up with silver dishes, pushed unceremoniously through the crowd. Women, fashionably gowned, were promenading the halls, or sipping tea in the palm garden; others sat in little groups watching the animated scene. Men of all conditions--preachers, actors, politicians, gamblers--stood in the lobbies, chatting and smoking, blocking the way so that it was almost impossible to pass. From the open doors of the brilliantly illuminated café came the noise and laughter of popping corks, the metallic ring of money, and the sound of men's voices in dispute. In another corner was heard the click of telegraph instruments and the industrious, perpetual rattle of typewriters. At the front entrance a doorman, resplendent in gold lace, was having a heated altercation with an obstreperous cabman. The desk was literally besieged by a pushing, unmannerly mob of persons, each of whom wanted to be waited on before the other, while haughty clerks, moving about with languid grace, tried to satisfy requests of every conceivable kind. There was nothing extraordinary in this apparent commotion. It suggested pandemonium; it was really only a rather dull and uneventful day in the ordinary routine of a big metropolitan hotel.
Virginia sat back in her chair and stretched herself. Every bone in her body ached. She had worked steadily since 8 o'clock that morning, with only a brief respite for lunch, and the fatigue was beginning to tell upon her. Formerly she could have done twice as much without feeling it, but since her marriage she had gotten out of the way of it. Her muscles were stiff; her recent luxurious mode of living had unfitted her for the strenuous life she used to lead. She had regained her independence, but it had not been without a bitter struggle.
It was a great shock to Fanny when her sister walked in on her that afternoon now some three months ago and quietly told her that she had left Robert for good. At first the elder sister laughed, not believing it, and then, when she saw by Virginia's face that it was only too true, she broke down and cried. They fell into each others' arms and wept together, just as they had done many times before when they were children.
When they were somewhat calmer she had told Fanny everything, keeping nothing from her, and declaring her intention to go back to the hotel, if she could get the position, and earn her own livelihood again. Seeing that it was useless, Fanny did not attempt to dissuade her. On the contrary, now she was acquainted with all the facts in the case, she was indignant herself and gave her sister credit for displaying so much spirit. Of course, it meant a serious pecuniary loss to them all. Jimmie could not possibly remain in his position, in view of this rupture; he would resign his lucrative job and they would be compelled to go back to the days when they struggled along on fourteen dollars a week. It was hard, but better that, she told Virginia with an affectionate hug, than that millionaires should go around thinking they could buy and sell women like so many cattle.
So everything was quickly settled. Virginia, of course, would live henceforth with them. She applied for her old position at the hotel, and after some delay secured it. This was a great relief to her, for she would never have consented to being a burden on her sister and it assured her a competence as long as she chose to stay.
Jimmie, much to his disgust, handed in his resignation, which was accepted more promptly than he had secretly hoped, the flat in One Hundred and Fortieth street was given up and the Gillies moved into one a little less pretentious, but more in keeping with their curtailed income. A job of some kind to keep the kettle boiling was very necessary, so Jimmie reluctantly applied for his old job and became once more a $14 a week shipping clerk. This however was a temporary makeshift, he protested. He was chock full of good ideas, and now he was rid of Stafford, who he claimed, had really paralyzed his efforts, he would be able to give free rein to his inventive genius. Fanny listened patiently. By this time she had few illusions left concerning her husband's chances of success in life. All she asked was that they should get along respectably and happily.
So the time had passed. It was now three months since Virginia had left her husband, and in all that time she had made no attempt to communicate with him. She had no desire to do so. If, sometimes, she had a secret yearning, if she sometimes hoped that he would miss her and come and fetch her back, she stifled it instantly. The very fact that he had made no attempt to come after her, showed plainly enough that he had never really cared for her. She thanked God that they had had no children. At least she was spared the torture of having brought unhappiness on innocent heads. At times she saw his name mentioned in the newspapers, and she smiled bitterly when she read accounts of sensational supper parties, scandalous proceedings which had attracted the attention of the public in which he had figured prominently. That was the kind of life he liked, the only kind he knew. How could she ever have dreamed that he was a man who would make her a good husband?
"Mr. Brown! Mr. Robinson! Mr. Brown! Mr. Robinson!"
The monotonous, shrill voices of the pages as they wearily made their rounds calling out the names of invisible guests, the orders of clerks and doormen, the chattering and laughing of the people as they passed and re-passed up and down the corridors made a perfect babel of conflicting sound. The afternoon was now well advanced. The crowds had begun to dispense. There was more breathing space in the passages. For the time being the rush was over and Virginia sat back in her chair, glad of a moment's respite after the busy day. She saw nothing and heard nothing of the commotion all around her. The noise and the crowds in the hotel lobby did not exist for her. Her thoughts, in spite of herself, were far away, with the man who before God's altar had solemnly promised to shield and protect her, and then permitted her to go out alone in the cold, unsympathetic world to earn her own living as best she could, without even making an effort to find how or where she was. With all his faults, she had always thought Robert kind-hearted. Why, then, should he have treated her in this cruel, heartless, indifferent manner? A man's voice suddenly aroused her from her words. In a cold, business-like tone it said:
"Are you busy? I have some letters to dictate."
Instantly aroused to a sense of her duties, Virginia sat up with a start. Without looking up, accustomed to be at the beck and call of the first stranger who came along, she said wearily:
"No, I'm not busy. I'll take the dictation."
The newcomer sat down at her desk. Virginia slipped a piece of paper into her machine and was ready to begin. Suddenly the man uttered an exclamation. She looked up and nearly fell from her chair.
"Mr. Hadley!" she exclaimed.
It was her husband's most intimate friend. Chance had brought him to the hotel and having some business letters to write, he had stopped at the desk of the first stenographer who appeared to be unoccupied. When he saw who the young operator was he could scarcely believe his eyes. With a gesture of the greatest concern, he exclaimed:
"Mrs. Stafford! You here?"
She smiled sadly.
"Yes. I've been here some time, ever since--" She stopped short, not knowing how much he might know of her difference with her husband. As yet the world knew nothing of the scandal that had shattered a home and as far as she was concerned it never would. After a pause she added timidly: "You see I am not rich--I have to support myself."
Hadley leaned forward and sympathetically grasped her hand. He had always liked Virginia. Her womanliness and spirit appealed strongly to him. Stafford had treated her like a brute. He ought never to have let her go. Many a time he had berated his friend for what he termed his pigheaded obstinacy.
"Oh, Mrs. Stafford!" he went on warmly. "I had no idea you were here. How noble and plucky it is of you--"
"Any self-respecting woman would do the same," she said quietly.
Hadley shrugged his shoulders. Cynically he replied:
"Some might, most wouldn't. You don't find women in our set making sacrifices even for a principle when it comes to giving up their comforts and their luxuries. I think you've acted splendidly and so does Bob, only he won't admit it. He's a good fellow at heart. The trouble was that he married too late in life. His habits were formed. He did not realize that to be happy in married life one must give as well as take; in other words, that a really happy marriage is a compromise. Always having had his own way, accustomed to imposing his will upon that of others, he failed to realize that when he married he conferred certain rights on the woman to whom he gave his name. Now it is different. He sees his mistake. It has been a bitter lesson to him."
A deep flush spread over Virginia's pale face. What did these words mean? Could it be true that her husband still loved her?
"You see him sometimes?" she murmured.
"Almost every day. I dined with him at the club last night."
"Is he well?"
Hadley made no answer, but bending forward, looked more closely at his friend's wife. He took quick note of her tired-looking eyes, the pallor of her face. Slowly he said:
"And you? Are you well? I think that is more important."
She smiled wearily as she answered:
"Oh, I'm a little tired, that's all. This work is very confining. In fact, I've quite gotten out of the way of it."
He looked at her intently for a moment in silence. Then he said:
"I had no idea where you had gone. None of his friends knew. Some think you are abroad. Bob has let that impression get about. Even I, his most intimate friend, did not know all the particulars! I guessed the truth. Yet Bob knew where you were."
Virginia, startled, looked up quickly:
"He knows?" she exclaimed.
Hadley nodded.
"Yes--he has employed a man to watch you constantly from a distance. Not because he believed you would ever give him cause for divorce--to be fair to him, that has never entered his mind; but he wanted someone to watch over you, protect you--"
Virginia flushed; her heart was beating violently. In a low tone, she said:
"He has done that?" she exclaimed. "Then he has not forgotten me after all--"
The young man laughed.
"Forgotten you! I should think not. You are never out of his thoughts. He won't admit it, but I know it. He loves you to-day better than he ever did."
"Then why, if he knows where I am, doesn't he come to me?"
Hadley clenched his fist. Vehemently, almost angrily, he answered:
"Because he's a fool. He said he wouldn't come to you until you sent for him, and he hasn't the moral courage to change his mind--he's afraid to be laughed at."
Virginia shook her head. Sadly she said:
"Then I'm afraid the breach will never be healed. If he is proud, I am not less so. I shall never send for him."
"But you can't go on like this, my dear Mrs. Stafford," he protested. "You really can't. You'll make yourself ill. It's not the kind of life you're fitted for."
"What else can I do?" she inquired. "Teach? I have not the patience. Go into a store? It is too humiliating. No, this is the best I can think of. I'm living with my sister. I am comfortable and as happy as I can expect to be under the circumstances."
"But won't you change your mind, won't you forgive Bob?" he persisted. "Let me go back to him now with a message from you. It is all he is waiting for, I know it--just one word. It will make him the happiest of men!"
Virginia shook her head.
"You are very kind, Mr. Hadley. I know you mean well, and that you are my friend. My husband and I understand one another perfectly. Neither will consent to send for the other, so the situation will remain exactly where it is."
He rose to go.
"Is this final?"
She shook her head decisively.
"Yes--it is final."
"You will never go back to him?"
"Not till he comes for me."
He grasped her hand and the next minute was lost to view in the crowd.
All that night, while the Gillies slumbered peacefully, Virginia tossed restlessly on her bed, thinking over what Mr. Hadley had told her. Try as she would, she was unable to banish thoughts of her husband from her mind. If he still cared for her, if he missed her, why didn't he come for her? If he himself suffered, why did he let her go on weeping out her heart in this way? Why should two human beings allow their pride to make them suffer so abominably? She thought she would show herself the more generous of the two; and send him a message, urging him to come at once. Then, as she recalled his stern, merciless words, she again rebelled. No--no--it would degrade her in his eyes if she weakened! She would not--she would not! She loved him--yes--only now she realized how dearly she loved him; but it was just because she loved him that she would not forfeit his esteem. When morning broke, she was still wide awake, thinking, thinking, her eyes red and swollen from countless tears. _