"Because I'm convinced already. Because people always marry their first and only loves. Because people never marry twice for love. Because I've never seen you hit before, and I know you never could be again. Now go and convince Miss Pasmer. She'll believe you, because she'll know that she can never care for any one but you, and you naturally can't care for anybody but her. It's a perfectly clear case. All you've got to do is to set it before her.""If I were you, I wouldn't try to work that cynical racket, Boardman,"said Mavering. He rose, but he sighed drearily, and regarded Boardman's grin with lack-lustre absence. But he went away without saying anything more; and walked mechanically toward the Cavendish. As he rang at the door of Mrs. Pasmer's apartments he recalled another early visit he had paid there; he thought how joyful and exuberant he was then, and how crushed and desperate now. He was not without youthful satisfaction in the disparity of his different moods; it seemed to stamp him as a man of large and varied experience.
XXXVIII.
Mrs. Pasmer was genuinely surprised to see Mavering, and he pursued his advantage--if it was an advantage--by coming directly to the point. He took it for granted that she knew all about the matter, and he threw himself upon her mercy without delay.
"Mrs. Pasmer, you must help me about this business with Alice," he broke out at once. "I don't know what to make of it; but I know I can explain it. Of course," he added, smiling ruefully, "the two statements don't hang together; but what I mean is that if I can find out what the trouble is, I can make it all right, because there's nothing wrong about it; don't you see?"Mrs. Pasmer tried to keep the mystification out of her eye; but she could not even succeed in seeming to do so, which she would have liked almost as well.
"Don't you know what I mean?" asked Dan.
Mrs. Pasmer chanced it. "That Alice was a little out of sorts last night?" she queried leadingly.
"Yes," said Mavering fervently. "And about her--her writing to me.""Writing to you?" Mrs. Pasmer was going to ask, when Dan gave her the letter.
"I don't know whether I ought to show it, but I must. I must have your help, and I can't, unless you understand the case."Mrs. Pasmer had begun to read the note. It explained what the girl herself had refused to give any satisfactory reason for--her early retirement from the reception, her mysterious disappearance into her own room on reaching home, and her resolute silence on the way. Mrs. Pasmer had known that there must be some trouble with Dan, and she had suspected that Alice was vexed with him on account of those women; but it was beyond her cheerful imagination that she should go to such lengths in her resentment. She could conceive of her wishing to punish him, to retaliate her suffering on him; but to renounce him for it was another thing; and she did not attribute to her daughter any other motive than she would have felt herself. It was always this way with Mrs. Pasmer: she followed her daughter accurately up to a certain point; beyond that she did not believe the girl knew herself what she meant; and perhaps she was not altogether wrong. Girlhood is often a turmoil of wild impulses, ignorant exaltations, mistaken ideals, which really represent no intelligent purpose, and come from disordered nerves, ill-advised reading, and the erroneous perspective of inexperience. Mrs. Pasmer felt this, and she was tempted to break into a laugh over Alice's heroics; but she preferred to keep a serious countenance, partly because she did not feel the least seriously. She was instantly resolved not to let this letter accomplish anything more than Dan's temporary abasement, and she would have preferred to shorten this to the briefest moment possible. She liked him, and she was convinced that Alice could never do better, if half so well. She would now have preferred to treat him with familiar confidence, to tell him that she had no idea of Alice's writing him that nonsensical letter, and he was not to pay the least attention to it; for of course it meant nothing; but another principle of her complex nature came into play, and she silently folded the note and returned it to Dan, trembling before her.
"Well?" he quavered.
"Well," returned Mrs. Pasmer judicially, while she enjoyed his tremor, whose needlessness inwardly amused her--"well, of course, Alice was--""Annoyed, I know. And it was all my fault--or my misfortune. But Iassure you, Mrs. Pasmer, that I thought I was doing something that would please her--in the highest and noblest way. Now don't you know I did?"Mrs. Pasmer again wished to laugh, but in the face of Dan's tragedy she had to forbear. She contented herself with saying: "Of course. But perhaps it wasn't the best time for pleasing her just in that way.""It was then or never. I can see now--why, I could see all the time--just how it might look; but I supposed Alice wouldn't care for that, and if Ihadn't tried to make some reparation then to Mrs. Frobisher and her sister, I never could. Don't you see?""Yes, certainly. But--"
"And Alice herself told me to go and look after them," interposed Mavering. He suppressed, a little uncandidly, the fact of her first reluctance.
"But you know it was the first time you had been out together?""Yes."
"And naturally she would wish to have you a good deal to herself, or at least not seeming to run after other people.""Yes, yes; I know that."
"And no one ever likes to be taken at their word in a thing like that.""I ought to have thought of that, but I didn't. I wish I had gone to you first, Mrs. Pasmer. Somehow it seems to me as if I were very young and inexperienced; I didn't use to feel so. I wish you were always on hand to advise me, Mrs. Pasmer." Dan hung his head, and his face, usually so gay, was blotted with gloom.
"Will you take my advice now?" asked Mrs. Pasmer.
"Indeed I will!" cried the young fellow, lifting his head. "What is it?""See Alice about this."
Dan jumped to his feet, and the sunshine broke out over his face again.
