Edith Wharton - SSC 09 Read Online Free PDF Page B

           One
day it rained, and he was confined to the house. I went up to sit with him, and
he got out some of his sketches and studies. Instantly he was transformed from
an amiably mocking dilettante into an absorbed and passionate professional.
“This is the only life I’ve ever had. All the rest—!” He made a grimace that turned his thin face into a death’s-head. “Cinders!”
                 The
studies were brilliant—there was no doubt of that. The question was—the eternal
question—what would they turn into when he was well enough to finish them? For
the moment the problem did not present itself, and I could praise and encourage
him in all sincerity. My words brought a glow into his face, but also, as it
turned out, sent up his temperature. Mrs. Glenn reproached me mildly; she
begged me not to let him get excited about his pictures. I promised not to, and
reassured on that point she asked if I didn’t think he had talent—real talent?
“Very great talent, yes,” I assured her; and she burst into tears—not of grief
or agitation, but of a deep upwelling joy. “Oh, what have I done to deserve it
all—to deserve such happiness? Yet I always knew if I could find him he’d make
me happy!” She caught both my hands, and pressed her wet cheek on mine. That
was one of her unclouded hours.
                 There
were others not so radiant. I could see that the Browns were straining at the
leash. With the seductions of Juan-les-Pins and Antibes in the offing, why,
their frequent allusions implied, must they remain marooned at Les Calanques?
Of course, for one thing, Mrs. Brown admitted, she hadn’t the clothes to show
herself on a smart plage. Though so
few were worn they had to come from the big dressmakers; and the latter’s
charges, everybody knew, were in inverse rado to the amount of material used.
“So that to be really naked is ruinous,” she concluded, laughing; and I saw the
narrowing of Catherine’s lips. As for Mr. Brown, he added morosely that if a
man couldn’t take a hand at baccarat, or offer his friends something decent to
eat and drink, it was better to vegetate at Les Calanques, and be done with it.
Only, when a fellow’d been used to having plenty of money …
                 I
saw at once what had happened. Mrs. Glenn, whose material wants did not extend
beyond the best plumbing and expensive clothes (and the latter were made to do
for three seasons), did not fully understand the Browns’ aspirations. Her
fortune, though adequate, was not large, and she had settled on Stephen’s
adoptive parents an allowance which, converted into francs, made a generous
showing. It was obvious, however, that what they hoped
was to get more money. There had been debts in the background, perhaps; who
knew but the handsome Stephen had had his share in them? One day I suggested
discreetly to Mrs. Glenn that if she wished to be alone with her son she might
offer the Browns a trip to Juan-les-Pins, or some such centre of gaiety. But I
pointed out that the precedent might be dangerous, and advised her first to
consult Stephen. “I suspect he’s as anxious to have them go as you are,” I said
recklessly; and her flush of pleasure rewarded me. “Oh, you mustn’t say that,”
she reproved me, laughing; and added that she would think over my advice. I am
not sure if she did consult Stephen; but she offered the Browns a holiday, and
they accepted it without false pride.
                   
     
  VI.
 
 
                 After
my departure from Les Calanques I had no news of Mrs. Glenn till she returned
to Paris in October. Then she begged me to call at the hotel where I had
previously seen her, and where she was now staying with Stephen—and the Browns.
                 She
suggested, rather mysteriously, my dining with her on a particular evening,
when, as she put it, “everybody” would be out; and when I arrived she