They were in the breakfast-room, a small, charming apartment, light and airy, and with many windows, one end opening upon the house conservatory.Jadwin was in his frock coat, which later he would wear to church.
The famous gardenia was in his lapel.He was freshly shaven, and his fine cigar made a blue haze over his head.Laura was radiant in a white morning gown.Anewly cut bunch of violets, large as a cabbage, lay on the table before her.
The whole scene impressed itself sharply upon Page's mind--the fine sunlit room, with its gay open spaces and the glimpse of green leaves from the conservatory, the view of the smooth, trim lawn through the many windows, where an early robin, strayed from the park, was chirruping and feeding; her beautiful sister Laura, with her splendid, overshadowing coiffure, her pale, clear skin, her slender figure; Jadwin, the large, solid man of affairs, with his fine cigar, his gardenia, his well-groomed air.And then the little accessories that meant so much--the smell of violets, of good tobacco, of fragrant coffee; the gleaming damasks, china and silver of the breakfast table; the trim, fresh-looking maid, with her white cap, apron, and cuffs, who came and went; the thoroughbred setter dozing in the sun, and the parrot dozing and chuckling to himself on his perch upon the terrace outside the window.
At the bottom of the lawn was the stable, and upon the concrete in front of its wide-open door the groom was currying one of the carriage horses.While Page addressed herself to her fruit and coffee, Jadwin put down his paper, and, his elbows on the arms of his rattan chair, sat for a long time looking out at the horse.By and by he got up and said:
"That new feed has filled 'em out in good shape.Think I'll go out and tell Jarvis to try it on the buggy team." He pushed open the French windows and went out, the setter sedately following.
Page dug her spoon into her grape-fruit, then suddenly laid it down and turned to Laura, her chin upon her palm.
"Laura," she said, "do you think I ought to marry--a girl of my temperament?""Marry?" echoed Laura.
"Sh-h!" whispered Page."Laura--don't talk so loud.
Yes, do you?"
"Well, why not marry, dearie? Why shouldn't you marry when the time comes? Girls as young as you are not supposed to have temperaments."But instead of answering Page put another question:
"Laura, do you think I am womanly?"
"I think sometimes, Page, that you take your books and your reading too seriously.You've not been out of the house for three days, and I never see you without your note-books and text-books in your hand.You are at it, dear, from morning till night.Studies are all very well--""Oh, studies!" exclaimed Page."I hate them.Laura, what is it to be womanly?""To be womanly?" repeated Laura."Why, I don't know, honey.It's to be kind and well-bred and gentle mostly, and never to be bold or conspicuous--and to love one's home and to take care of it, and to love and believe in one's husband, or parents, or children--or even one's sister--above any one else in the world.""I think that being womanly is better than being well read," hazarded Page.
"We can be both, Page," Laura told her."But, honey, Ithink you had better hurry through your breakfast.If we are going to church this Easter, we want to get an early start.Curtis ordered the carriage half an hour earlier.""Breakfast!" echoed Page."I don't want a thing." She drew a deep breath and her eyes grew large."Laura,"she began again presently, "Laura...Landry Court was here last night, and--oh, I don't know, he's so silly.
But he said--well, he said this--well, I said that Iunderstood how he felt about certain things, about 'getting on,' and being clean and fine and all that sort of thing you know; and then he said, 'Oh, you don't know what it means to me to look into the eyes of a woman who really understands.'""_Did_ he?" said Laura, lifting her eyebrows.
"Yes, and he seemed so fine and earnest.Laura, wh--"Page adjusted a hairpin at the back of her head, and moved closer to Laura, her eyes on the floor."Laura--what do you suppose it did mean to him--don't you think it was foolish of him to talk like that?""Not at all," Laura said, decisively."If he said that he meant it--meant that he cared a great deal for you.""Oh, I didn't mean that!" shrieked Page."But there's a great deal more to Landry than I think we've suspected.He wants to be more than a mere money-getting machine, he says, and he wants to cultivate his mind and understand art and literature and that.And he wants me to help him, and I said I would.So if you don't mind, he's coming up here certain nights every week, and we're going to--I'm going to read to him.
We're going to begin with the 'Ring and the Book.'"In the later part of May, the weather being unusually hot, the Jadwins, taking Page with them, went up to Geneva Lake for the summer, and the great house fronting Lincoln Park was deserted.
Laura had hoped that now her husband would be able to spend his entire time with her, but in this she was disappointed.At first Jadwin went down to the city but two days a week, but soon this was increased to alternate days.Gretry was a frequent visitor at the country house, and often he and Jadwin, their rocking-chairs side by side in a remote corner of the porch, talked "business" in low tones till far into the night.
"Dear," said Laura, finally, "I'm seeing less and less of you every day, and I had so looked forward to this summer, when we were to be together all the time.""I hate it as much as you do, Laura," said her husband.
