the titan-第92部分

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She　walked　into　her　boudoir；　and　before　her　mirror　began　to　dress　for　a　dinner　to　which　she　had　been　invited。　　So　it　was　Cowperwood's　money　that　had　been　sustaining　them　all　during　the　last　few　years；　and　she　had　been　so　liberal　with　his　meansso　proud；　vain；　boastful；　superior。　　And　he　had　only　fixed　her　with　those　inquiring；　examining　eyes。　　Why？　But　she　did　not　need　to　ask　herself　why。　　She　knew　now。　　What　a　game　he　had　been　playing；　and　what　a　silly　she　had　been　not　to　see　it。　　Did　her　mother　in　any　way　suspect？　She　doubted　it。　　This　queer；　paradoxical；　impossible　world！　The　eyes　of　Cowperwood　burned　at　her　as　she　thought。




Chapter　LIII



A　Declaration　of　Love

For　the　first　time　in　her　life　Berenice　now　pondered　seriously　what　she　could　do。　　She　thought　of　marriage；　but　decided　that　instead　of　sending　for　Braxmar　or　taking　up　some　sickening　chase　of　an　individual　even　less　satisfactory　it　might　be　advisable　to　announce　in　a　simple　social　way　to　her　friends　that　her　mother　had　lost　her　money；　and　that　she　herself　was　now　compelled　to　take　up　some　form　of　employmentthe　teaching　of　dancing；　perhaps；　or　the　practice　of　it　professionally。　　She　suggested　this　calmly　to　her　mother　one　day。　　Mrs。　Carter；　who　had　been　long　a　parasite　really；　without　any　constructive　monetary　notions　of　real　import；　was　terrified。　　To　think　that　she　and　〃Bevy；〃　her　wonderful　daughter；　and　by　reaction　her　son；　should　come　to　anything　so　humdrum　and　prosaic　as　ordinary　struggling　life；　and　after　all　her　dreams。　　She　sighed　and　cried　in　secret；　writing　Cowperwood　a　cautious　explanation　and　asking　him　to　see　her　privately　in　New　York　when　he　returned。

〃Don't　you　think　we　had　best　go　on　a　little　while　longer？〃　she　suggested　to　Berenice。　　〃It　just　wrings　my　heart　to　think　that　you；　with　your　qualifications；　should　have　to　stoop　to　giving　dancing…lessons。　　We　had　better　do　almost　anything　for　a　while　yet。　　You　can　make　a　suitable　marriage；　and　then　everything　will　be　all　right　for　you。　　It　doesn't　matter　about　me。　　I　can　live。　　But　you〃　Mrs。　Carter's　strained　eyes　indicated　the　misery　she　felt。　　Berenice　was　moved　by　this　affection　for　her；　which　she　knew　to　be　genuine；　but　what　a　fool　her　mother　had　been；　what　a　weak　reed；　indeed；　she　was　to　lean　upon！　Cowperwood；　when　he　conferred　with　Mrs。　Carter；　insisted　that　Berenice　was　quixotic；　nervously　awry；　to　wish　to　modify　her　state；　to　eschew　society　and　invalidate　her　wondrous　charm　by　any　sort　of　professional　life。　By　prearrangement　with　Mrs。　Carter　he　hurried　to　Pocono　at　a　time　when　he　knew　that　Berenice　was　there　alone。　　Ever　since　the　Beales　Chadsey　incident　she　had　been　evading　him。

When　he　arrived；　as　he　did　about　one　in　the　afternoon　of　a　crisp　January　day；　there　was　snow　on　the　ground；　and　the　surrounding　landscape　was　bathed　in　a　crystalline　light　that　gave　back　to　the　eye　endless　facets　of　lusterjewel　beams　that　cut　space　with　a　flash。　　The　automobile　had　been　introduced　by　now；　and　he　rode　in　a　touring…car　of　eighty　horse…power　that　gave　back　from　its　dark…brown；　varnished　surface　a　lacquered　light。　　In　a　great　fur　coat　and　cap　of　round；　black　lamb's…wool　he　arrived　at　the　door。

〃Well；　Bevy；〃　he　exclaimed；　pretending　not　to　know　of　Mrs。　Carter's　absence；　〃how　are　you？　How's　your　mother？　Is　she　in？〃

Berenice　fixed　him　with　her　cool；　steady…gazing　eyes；　as　frank　and　incisive　as　they　were　daring；　and　smiled　him　an　equivocal　welcome。　She　wore　a　blue　denim　painter's　apron；　and　a　palette　of　many　colors　glistened　under　her　thumb。　　She　was　painting　and　thinking　thinking　being　her　special　occupation　these　days；　and　her　thoughts　had　been　of　Braxmar；　Cowperwood；　Kilmer　Duelma；　a　half…dozen　others；　as　well　as　of　the　stage；　dancing；　painting。　　Her　life　was　in　a　melting…pot；　as　it　were；　before　her；　again　it　was　like　a　disarranged　puzzle；　the　pieces　of　which　might　be　fitted　together　into　some　interesting　picture　if　she　could　but　endure。

〃Do　come　in；〃　she　said。　　〃It's　cold；　isn't　it？　Well；　there's　a　nice　fire　here　for　you。　　No；　mother　isn't　here。　　She　went　down　to　New　York。　　I　should　think　you　might　have　found　her　at　the　apartment。　Are　you　in　New　York　for　long？〃

She　was　gay；　cheerful；　genial；　but　remote。　　Cowperwood　felt　the　protective　gap　that　lay　between　him　and　her。　　It　had　always　been　there。　　He　felt　that；　even　though　she　might　understand　and　like　him；　yet　there　was　somethingconvention；　ambition；　or　some　deficiency　on　his　partthat　was　keeping　her　from　him；　keeping　her　eternally　distant。

He　looked　about　the　room；　at　the　picture　she　was　attempting　（a　snow…scape；　of　a　view　down　a　slope）；　at　the　view　itself　which　he　contemplated　from　the　window；　at　some　dancing　sketches　she　had　recently　executed　and　hung　on　the　wall　for　the　time　beinglovely；　short　tunic　motives。　　He　looked　at　her　in　her　interesting　and　becoming　painter's　apron。　　〃Well；　Berenice；〃　he　said；　〃always　the　artist　first。　　It　is　your　world。　　You　will　never　escape　it。　　These　things　are　beautiful。〃　He　waved　an　ungloved　hand　in　the　direction　of　a　choric　line。　　〃It　wasn't　your　mother　I　came　to　see；　anyhow。　　It　is　you。　　I　had　such　a　curious　letter　from　her。　　She　tells　me　you　want　to　give　up　society　and　take　to　teaching　or　something　of　that　sort。　　I　came　because　I　wanted　to　talk　to　you　about　that。　　Don't　you　think　you　are　acting　rather　hastily？〃

He　spoke　now　as　though　there　were　some　reason　entirely　disassociated　from　himself　that　was　impelling　him　to　this　interest　in　her。

Berenice；　brush　in　hand；　standing　by　her　picture；　gave　him　a　look　that　was　cool；　curious；　defiant；　equivocal。

〃No；　I　don't　think　so；〃　she　replied；　quietly。　　〃You　know　how　things　have　been；　so　I　may　speak　quite　frankly。　　I　know　that　mother's　intentions　were　always　of　the　best。〃

Her　mouth　moved　with　the　faintest　touch　of　sadness。　　〃Her　heart；　I　am　afraid；　is　better　than　her　head。　　As　for　your　motives；　I　am　satisfied　to　believe　that　they　have　been　of　the　best　also。　　I　know　that　they　have　been；　in　factit　would　be　ungenerous　of　me　to　suggest　anything　else。〃　（Cowperwood's　fixed　eyes；　it　seemed　to　her；　had　moved　somewhere　in　their　deepest　depths。）　〃Yet　I　don't　feel　we　can　go　on　as　we　have　been　doing。　　We　have　no　money　of　our　own。　　Why　shouldn't　I　do　something？　What　else　can　I　really　do？〃

She　paused；　and　Cowperwood　gazed　at　her；　quite　still。　　In　her　informal；　bunchy　painter's　apron；　and　with　her　blue　eyes　looking　out　at　him　from　beneath　her　loose　red　hair；　it　seemed　to　him　she　was　the　most　perfect　thing　he　had　ever　known。　　Such　a　keen；　fixed；　enthroned　mind。　　She　was　so　capable；　so　splendid；　and；　like　his　own；　her　eyes　were　unafraid。　　Her　spiritual　equipoise　was　undisturbed。

〃Berenice；〃　he　said；　quietly；　〃let　me　tell　you　something。　　You　did　me　the　honor　just　now　to　speak　of　my　motives　ingiving　your　mother　money　as　of　the　best。　　They　werefrom　my　own　point　of　viewthe　best　I　have　ever　known。　　I　will　not　say　what　I　thought　they　were　in　the　beginning。　　I　know　what　they　were　now。　　I　am　going　to　speak　quite　frankly　with　you；　if　you　will　let　me；　as　long　as　we　are　here　together。　　I　don't　know　whether　you　know　this　or　not；　but　when　I　first　met　your　mother　I　only　knew　by　chance　that　she　had　a　daughter；　and　it　was　of　no　particular　interest　to　me　then。　　I　went　to　her　house　as　the　guest　of　a　financial　friend　of　mine　who　admired　her　greatly。　　From　the　first　I　myself　admired　her；　because　I　found　her　to　be　a　lady　to　the　manner　bornshe　was　interesting。　　One　day　I　happened　to　see　a　photograph　of　you　in　her　home；　and　before　I　could　mention　it　she　put　it　away。　　Perhaps　you　recall　the　one。　　It　is　in　profiletaken　when　you　were　about　sixteen。〃

〃Yes；　I　remember；〃　replied　Berenice；　simplyas　quietly　as　though　she　were　hearing　a　confession。

〃Well；　that　picture　interested　me　intensely。　　I　inquired　about　you；　and　learned　all　I　could。　　After　that　I　saw　another　picture　of　you；　enlarged；　in　a　Louisville　photographer's　window。　　I　bought　it。　　It　is　in　my　office　nowmy　private　officein　Chicago。　　You　are　standing　by　a　mantelpiece。〃

〃I　remember；〃　replied　Berenice；　moved；　but　uncertain。

〃Let　me　tell　you　a　little　something　about　my　life；　will　you？　It　won't　take　long。　　I　was　born　in　Philadelphia。　　My　family　had　always　belonged　there。　　I　have　been　in　the　banking　and　street…railway　business　all　my　life。　　My　first　wife　was　a　Presbyterian　girl；　religious；　conventional。　　She　was　older　than　I　by　six　or　seven　years。　　I　was　happy　for　a　whilefive　or　six　years。　　We　had　two　childrenboth　still　living。　　Then　I　met　my　present　wife。　　She　was　younger　than　myselfat　least　ten　years；　and　very　good…looking。　　She　was　in　some　respects　more　intelligent　than　my　first　wifeat　least　less　conventional；　more　generous；　I　thought。　　I　fell　in　love　with　her；　and　when　I　eventually　left　Philadelphia　I　got　a　divorce　and　married　her。　　I　was　greatly　in　love　with　her　at　the　time。　　I　thought　she　was　an　ideal　mate　for　me；　and　I　still　think　she　has　many　qualities　which　make　her　attractive。　　But　my　own　ideals　in　regard　to　women　have　all　the　time　been　slowly　changing。　　I　have　come　to　see；　through　various　experiments；　that　she　is　not　the　ideal　woman　for　me　at　all。　　She　does　not　understand　me。　　I　don't　pretend　to　understand　myself；　but　it　has　occurred　to　me　that　there　might　be　a　woman　somewhere　who　would　understand　me　better　than　I　understand　myself；　who　would　see　the　things　that　I　don't　see　about　myself；　and　would　like　me；　anyhow。　　I　might　as　well　tell　you　that　I　have　been　a　lover　of　women　always。　　There　is　just　one　ideal　thing　in　this　world　to　me；　and　that　is　the　woman　that　I　would　like　to　have。〃

〃I　should　think　it　would　make　it　rather　difficult　for　any　one　woman　to　discover　just　which　woman　you　would　like　to　have？〃　smiled　Berenice；　whimsically。　　Cowperwood　was　unabashed。

〃It　would；　I　presume；　unless　she　should　chance　to　be　the　very　one　woman　I　am　talking　about；〃　he　replied；　impressively。

〃I　should　think　she　would　have　her　work　cut　out　for　her　under　any　circumstances；〃　added　Berenice；　lightly；　but　with　a　touch　of　sympathy　in　her　voice。

〃I　am　making　a　confession；〃　replied　Cowperwood；　seriously　and　a　little　heavily。　　〃I　am　not　apologizing　for　myself。　　The　women　I　have　known　would　make　ideal　wives　for　some　men；　but　not　for　me。　　Life　has　taught　me　that　much。　　It　has　changed　me。〃

〃And　do　you　think　the　process　has　stopped