The Last Rose of Summer

  CHAPTER IV

  Asaph came in then and looked around the room with defiant eyes aroundthe room with defiant eyes that dared anybody to be uncomfortable. Herecognized Meldrum with a start, and realized that the most importantguest had been left to Deb Larrabee, of all people. This misstep mightmean ruin to him. His anger changed to anxiety, and he made haste tocarry Meldrum away. He was inspired to present him to Pamela.

  Deborah, abandoned on the sofa, studied Pamela with wonder. Howbeautiful the child was! How she drew the men! How their eyes fed uponher! How she queened it in her little court! Everywhere she went it mustbe so. In Peoria they must have gathered about her just as here. Theymust be missing her in Peoria now. When she went back they would beglad. Or if she went on to Chicago men would gather about her there-orin Omaha, or Council Bluffs, or Toledo-anywhere!

  It was manifest enough why the men gathered about the girl. Shedelighted the senses. She improved the view. She was the view.Suavity of contour, proportion of feature, silkiness of texture,felicity of tint; every angle masked with a curve, every joint small andincluded, desirableness, cuddlesomeness, kissableness, warmth, and allthe things that make up loveliness were Pamela's.

  The contrast between herself and Pamela was so cruel that Deborah'sheart rebelled. She demanded of Heaven: "Why so much to her and none tome? My mother was as good as her mother, and better-looking in her day;and my father was a handsome man. Why was I made at all if not wellmade? Why allowed to live if not fit for life? My elder sister thatdied was more beautiful than Pamela, but she died. Why couldn't I havedied in her place, or taken the beauty she laid aside as I wore hercast-off clothes? Yet I live, and I shall never be married, shall neverbe a mother, shall never be of any use or any beauty. Why? Why?"

  Bitter, bitter were her thoughts as she sat with her plate in her lap.She hardly noticed when Josie took the plate away. She fell into analmost sleep of reverie and woke with a start to find that everybodyelse was crowding forward to hear Pamela sing. She was repeating "TheLast Rose" by request. Mr. Maugans had said he would like another whackat that accompa'ment.

  Debby felt again that stab of Birdaline's-"Poor Debby! She never was arose."

  She could not bear to remain. She tiptoed from the dining-room,unnoticed, and went out at the side-door, drawing her shawl over herhead. She must sneak home alone as usual. Thank Heaven, it was only ablock and the streets were black.

  As she reached the front gate she met a man who had just come down fromthe porch. It was Meldrum. He peered at her in the dim light of thestreet-lamp and called out:

  "That you, Debby? Couldn't you stand it any longer? Neither could I.That girl is a peach to look at, but she can't sing for sour apples; andas for brains, she's a nut, a pure pecan! I guess I'm too old or notold enough to be satisfied with staring at a pretty hide on a prettyframe. Which way you going? I'll walk along with you if you don'tmind."

  If she didn't mind! Would Lazarus object if Dives sat down on the floorbeside him and brought along his trencher?

  Debby was so bewildered that the sidewalk reeled beneath her intoxicatedfeet. She stumbled till Meldrum took her hand and set it in the crookof his arm, and she trotted along as meek as Tobias with the angel.

  All, all too soon they reached her house. But he paused at the gate.She dared not invite him even to the porch.

  If her mother heard a man's voice there she would probably open thewindow upstairs and shriek: "Murder! Thieves! Help!"

  So Debby waited at the gate while the almost invisible Meldrum chatteredon. She was so afraid that he would go every next minute that shehardly heard what he said. But he had only a hotel room ahead of him.He was used to late hours. He was in a mood for talk. The paralyzedDebby was a perfect listener, and in that intense dark she was asbeautiful as Cleopatra would have been.

  To her he was solely a voice, a voice of strange cynicisms, yet ofstrange comfort to her. He was laughing at the people she held in awe."This town's a joke to me," he said. "It's a side-show full of freaks."And he mocked the great folk of the village as if they were yokels. Helaughed at their customs. He ridiculed many, many things that Debby hadbelieved and suffered from believing. He ridiculed married people andmarriage from the superior heights of one who could have married manyand had rejected all. It was strangely pleasant hearing to her who hadobserved marriage from the humble depths of one whom all had rejected.He talked till he heard the town clock whine eleven times, then he said:

  "Good Lord! I didn't know it was so late. I must have talked your armoff, Debby. I don't get these moods often. It takes a mighty goodlistener to loosen me up. Good night! Don't let any of these fellowsbunco you into marrying 'em. There's nothing in it, Debby. Take itfrom me. Good night."

  She felt rather than saw that he lifted his hat. She felt again his bighand enveloping hers, and she answered its squeeze with a desperatelittle clench of her own.

  He left her wonderfully uplifted. Now she felt less an exile frommarriage than a rebel. She almost convinced herself that she had keptout of matrimony because she was too good for it. The solitary cell ofher bed was a queenly dais when she crept into it. She dreamed thatGeneral Kitchener asked for her hand and she refused it.