The Fate of Felix Brand

“Don’t say that!” she begged, hardly above a whisper. “Don’t even think such things! You are you, and I wouldn’t have you different for worlds and worlds!”

Her disturbed little appeal was shielded from observation by a vivacious feminine voice which called out simultaneously: “Please finish my house before you turn yourself into anybody else, Mr. Brand! You know we’ve only settled on the back porch and one dormer window, so far, and I’ll leave it to these good people if that’s enough for a family of six to live in!”

Henrietta smiled discreetly at her plate, for she knew along what a tortuous path of inchoate ideas and breezy caprices Mrs. Grahame Fenlow, upon the sightliness of whose new chauffeur she and her sister were basing their hopes of keeping their maid of all work, had led the architect in his attempt to design a new house for her.

“Aren’t you afraid, mother,” exclaimed Mark Fenlow, from his seat beside Henrietta, “if you don’t decide pretty soon whether you want that dormer window in the cellar or the roof and whether the back porch is to be before or behind the house, that Mr. Brand will be driven to try a new personality, or incarnation, or – or drink, or whatever you call it!”

“Why, here’s the doctor at last,” cried Felix Brand as he rose to greet the newcomer and lead him to his seat at the table.

Dr. Philip Annister, smiling affably at the company, scarcely looked the famous specialist in nerve diseases that he was. Short and slight in physique, his head, when he stood beside his handsome wife, was barely on a level with hers. Wherefore, his shoes, ever since his wedding day, had been noticeably high of heel, and rarely was he known to wear other head covering than a silk hat. He had cast aside the look of abstraction which commonly possessed his thin, pale countenance and his manner and speech of modest geniality soon won for him the favor of all the heterogeneous company to whom he was not already known. His wife noticed that his eyes rested frequently upon their host and later she said to him:

“Felix is looking handsomer than ever tonight, isn’t he!”

“Yes, I suppose so,” he answered hesitatingly. “But, Margaret, there’s an expression growing on his face that I don’t like. It’s creating a doubt about him in my mind.”

“What do you mean? His manner tonight toward all this queer mixture of people has been perfect – cordial, unassuming, delicately courteous and friendly toward every one. And, really, Philip, I don’t know a handsomer man! His face is so refined, and those brown, caressing eyes of his are enough to turn any girl’s head. I don’t wonder in the least that Mildred is so completely in love with him. What is it you don’t like about his looks, Philip?”

“I don’t quite know, and perhaps it isn’t fair to him to put it into words until I do know. It is less evident tonight, when he is all animation and his thoughts are full of the entertainment of his guests, than I have seen it sometimes lately. You know, Margaret, Felix has an unusually expressive countenance. It’s like a crystal mask, and it’s bound to reveal the very shape and color of his soul. I think I begin to see signs in it of selfishness and grossness – ”

“Oh, Philip! How can you! Grossness! He’s the most refined – ”

“You haven’t announced Mildred’s engagement yet, have you?” her husband interrupted. “I’m glad of that,” he went on in a relieved tone as she shook her head, “and I hope you will not for some time.”

“Mildred is beginning to look forward rather eagerly to being married,” said Mrs. Annister, smiling soberly. “I’m almost afraid she’s more in love than he is.”

“I’m so glad I came tonight. It has been lovely!” Henrietta Marne at that moment was saying to her host, at the other side of the room.

“You have enjoyed it?” and he bent upon her his brown eyes with their look of caressing indulgence. “I’m glad of that, for I’m afraid you don’t have as many enjoyments as a girl ought to have, by right of her youth and beauty and charm.”

“I was afraid I ought not to come, because my mother is ill.”

“Ah, that Puritan conscience of yours, Miss Marne! Don’t be so afraid of it when the question is nothing more than getting some innocent pleasure out of life.”

“But one isn’t afraid of one’s conscience. One just takes counsel of it, or with it.”

“Of course! But if one – you, for instance – yielded to it more than its due – and it really is insatiable, you know, if you let it get the upper hand – what a wretched affair life would be! Simply unendurable!”

“But there’s always a satisfaction in doing what one ought to do, Mr. Brand – don’t you think so? – even if it is hard.”

“Oh, if you like your satisfaction to taste hard and bitter! I don’t! I think it’s much better to hold ourselves free to take advantage of all the possibilities of happiness, little and big, that come our way. It’s really a duty that we owe ourselves. And, of course, if we are happy we make others about us happy too. You, I’m sure, need enjoyment so much that it would be a great mistake for you to throw away any opportunity. And I’m very glad you didn’t neglect this little one!”

Mrs. Fenlow and her son were at his elbow to say goodnight, and as he shook hands with Mark, whose mother had already passed on to an exchange of confidences concerning hairdressers with Miss Ardeen Andrews, he laid his hand affectionately on the young man’s shoulder and said in a low tone:

“You’re coming tomorrow night, Mark, of course?”

“Sure! D. V. and d. p. – God willing and the devil permitting!”

“It will be very different from this,” and Brand smiled slightly, a winning, deprecating smile, as with the least perceptible motion of his head he indicated the company that filled his spacious drawing room. “But a man doesn’t want his relaxations to be all alike, any more than he wants all flowers to be of the same color.”

CHAPTER IV

Billikins is Frightened

It was inevitable that the personality of Felix Brand should loom large in the home of his secretary. Mrs. Marne was a semi-invalid and suffered frequent relapses into more serious illness. The care of her and the management of their little household were Isabella’s part, and to these two, much confined at home and by necessity cut off from nearly all outside pleasures and interests, the chief daily event was Henrietta’s return from her busy hours and responsible tasks in the architect’s office. But, of still more importance, their worldly welfare hung upon the salary which he paid to the younger sister.

Mrs. Marne’s husband had been a physician in one of the smaller cities of Massachusetts; but, though a New Englander, he had not possessed the characteristic thrift of the sons of that region, and consequently his widow and his daughters found, after his death, that the settlement of his affairs left them a very slender sum of money. It was necessary that one of the young women should become an income earner, and it was decided that Henrietta, since she had a better head for affairs and more liking for business, should take this share of their burden. There was enough money to give her a course in secretarial training in a women’s vocational college in Boston and to support them all in economical comfort until she should be ready to begin her work. As she was at once successful in finding a position in New York, they invested the few hundred dollars still left in a first payment upon a little home in Staten Island, and they were now carefully husbanding Henrietta’s salary and paying off the remaining debt upon the instalment plan.

It was through Dr. Annister that Henrietta found a good position so quickly. He and Dr. Marne had been classmates and warm friends during the years of their medical training, and afterward, although one had gone to New York and become one of the famous specialists of his generation and the other had sunk into the obscurity of general practice in a small city, they had kept up their friendship in a desultory way, with occasional meetings at medical conventions and now and then a letter. When Dr. Marne died, a missive came from his friend that seemed so simple and genuine in its feeling that it deeply touched Henrietta, to whom fell the duty of answering it, because of her mother’s stricken condition.

The memory of that letter and a warmly reverent feeling for the friendship that had called it forth stayed long in her heart. And at last, when she was ready to try conclusions with the world, and felt sure, with the usual conviction of youth, that it would be much better to go somewhere else to begin, she wrote to Dr. Annister, telling him briefly her plans and hopes and what her training had been. And the famous Dr. Philip Annister interested himself in the daughter of his old friend, and at once found for her a well-paid position as secretary for Felix Brand, his prospective son-in-law. Mrs. Annister also showed much kindly feeling for the girl and often had her stay overnight at their home for a visit to the theatre or the opera.

Between Mildred Annister and Henrietta there existed a friendship which made up in outward warmth what it lacked in depth. For Mildred, with her woman’s heart but lately awakened and filled to the brim with absorbed and adoring first love, could not help some secret resentment that any other woman should be anything to her beloved or give him any service. Her good sense told her that this was unreasonable, while her respect and kindly feeling for Henrietta made her ashamed of it. So she did her best to conceal it and in the effort overdid her expressions of affection. Henrietta would have responded to these with girlish ardor, for she liked Mildred and greatly admired her tall and stately beauty, had she not felt some barrier just below the surface that kept her as reserved, in all the little confidences that usually go on between young women, as was Mildred herself. She did not even know of the semi-engagement, to which Dr. and Mrs. Annister had not yet given their full assent, that existed between Mildred and Felix Brand, although she felt sure that the girl was whole-heartedly in love with him.

As the weeks went on and autumn merged into winter, Henrietta sometimes noticed a harried look upon her employer’s countenance. She wondered much about this, for he was winning success and honors in ample measure. An international committee of artists and architects, sitting in judgment upon the competitive designs submitted for a memorial building to one of the country’s heroes, had announced their decision awarding the prize to Felix Brand. He had been made a member of the municipal art advisory commission and a little later a national society of architects had elected him to its presidency. There were private commissions in plenty, enough to keep him and his assistants busy. And, finally, – and Brand laughingly told his secretary that he considered this the most signal success of his career – Mrs. Fenlow had approved his last design for the country house she purposed to build up the Hudson and had been moved to transports of enthusiasm over its every detail.

In addition to these honors and successes, Henrietta knew that he was making much money outside of his profession; that his operations in stocks were nearly always profitable, that once or twice they had been richly so, and that he had bought a large number of shares in a marble quarry for whose product his designs often called.

So she marveled much within herself that he should so often look careworn and show a furtive anxiety in his eyes and face when he had, or was rapidly winning, almost every good thing that mortals count a source of happiness and when even her intimacy with his affairs did not reveal a solitary cause for distress or uneasiness of mind.

She spoke of this sometimes at home. For her mother and sister were always concerned to know what her day had been, and Felix Brand being so important a person to their lives, they were deeply interested in whatever he did or said and in everything Henrietta could tell them about him. They were scrupulously careful not to ask or to speak about anything that would approach too nearly her confidential relations with her employer. But outside those lines there was a large and interesting territory wherein they could and did have much converse together about the architect, his success, and his personality.

On a bright and mild Sunday morning in mid-winter, whose sunshine was full of that guileful promise of spring with which the tricky weather goddess of the Manhattan region loves to play pranks upon its residents, the two Marne sisters, in their mother’s room, were chatting with her as she reclined in the sun beside a south window.

“I’ve some good news,” said Henrietta. “I didn’t tell you last night, because I knew we’d all be gossiping in here this morning and it would be so cosy to talk it all over then. Mr. Brand has raised my salary, to date from the first of this month!”

Mrs. Marne’s thin hand sought her daughter’s where it lay upon the arm of her chair and then hastened to wipe away a tear or two. For she was nervously much broken and her tears, whether of joy or sorrow, came easily.

Isabella sprang up, exclaiming, “Harry! How splendid!” And the two girls hugged each other delightedly and kissed first each other and then their mother. Then they kissed each other again and whirled about in a waltz measure. Billikins, the white fox terrier, quickly put a stop to this exuberance by endeavoring to take part in it himself, barking furiously and making ecstatic rushes between them.

“The second time, dear!” exclaimed Isabella as they settled down again, cheeks flushed and eyes shining. “Only think of it! At Christmas, and now again so soon!”

“It isn’t so very much,” said Henrietta, “only ten dollars a month more, but it will be a lot for us, and it means a great big lot to me, because it makes me feel that I’m succeeding. What is it, Billikins? Do you want to come up? And you’ve brought babykins, haven’t you? Come on, then, both of you.” The fox terrier was begging and wriggling beside her, his inseparable companion and plaything, a dilapidated rag-doll, in his mouth. She lifted them to her lap, where, after much licking and nuzzling of the doll, he curled himself up to sleep.

“Of course you’re succeeding!” cried Isabella. “How could you help it when you’re the cleverest girl in New York and work the hardest and – have such a nice home to stay in at night!”

“It will soon be nicer,” rejoined Henrietta with a laugh, “when we get rid of its mortgage decoration. Now we can get that all paid off by the end of the summer and then we’ll be sure of a home, whatever happens.”

Mrs. Marne pressed her hand in a closer clasp. “Dear child! You and Bella are the best children a mother ever had. I’ve just been thinking that I really have three children, a son as well as two daughters. For you’re just as good as a son, Harry, besides being a daughter too. When you were born, dear, I was disappointed that you weren’t a boy, and sorry for you that you weren’t.”

“Were you sorry about me, too?” demanded Isabella saucily.

“You, dear! Why, when you came – you were the first, you know – I was too proud and delighted to think of anything but just that I had you. By the time Harry arrived I had learned more about what it means to be a woman and I was sorry I had brought another into the world. But I soon got over all that and was so glad to have you both. After all, girls, it is a grand thing to be a wife and a mother!”

“Yes, if you can only get your salary raised often enough,” said Isabella gaily. “And I guess,” she went on as she saw a little wave of amusement cross her mother’s face, “I’d better have that settled right away. I’ll write to Warren that I shall expect an increase every time Harry gets one. Tell us more about your raise, Harry. What did Mr. Brand say?”

“Oh, he was very nice – but he always is nice, just as kind and courteous as can be. He said he was much pleased with the good judgment and the care with which I had managed things while he was away. Before this, when he’s been gone for a day or two or three, he has made some arrangements beforehand and has told me where he would be so that I could telegraph or ’phone him on the long distance if necessary. But lately he’s been called away twice so suddenly that he left me no directions and I didn’t know his address, and so, although he was gone only two or three days each time, I had a good deal of responsibility. But he was very kind and praised everything I did and yesterday he told me that he thought I deserved a reward and as he might be called away again the same way, he didn’t think it was fair to put so much more upon me without paying me for it.”

“Isn’t he lovely!” exclaimed Isabella. “As Delia says about Mrs. Fenlow’s chauffeur, ‘he’s sure very gentlemanly and strong!’”

“Indeed, you’ve been most fortunate in getting so good a position, Harry, dear!” said Mrs. Marne, her voice trembling with her depth of feeling. “I fairly ached with anxiety over your going into this secretarial work, but Mr. Brand has proved to be all that even his secretary’s mother could expect or wish.”

“And here he is, right now!” cried Isabella as she glanced from the window at the sound of an automobile in the quiet street. “And if he isn’t going to honor our humble but happy home with a call from his very handsome self!” she went on excitedly as the machine slowed down and its occupant, glancing at the house numbers, stopped in front of their cottage.

He told Henrietta that he had just learned it might be necessary for him to leave town that day and that he wanted to give her some instructions for her guidance if he should be away more than a day or two. His manner was disturbed and restless, although not lacking in its usual suave and gentle courtesy, and she noted in his face, more strongly marked than she had seen it before, that troubled, anxious look concerning which she had already wondered much. And from the whole man there seemed to her to emanate an unconscious appeal, as of one in such sore and badgering straits that he knew not where to turn for help.

“I may be able,” he said, “to – put off this trip, to make some arrangement about – this matter, so that it will not be necessary for me to go. I hope so – I don’t want to leave the office just now. And, by the way, if I do go, there’s another thing. If there should be a letter in my general mail – not marked ‘personal,’ you know – ” he hesitated, and Henrietta observed that he turned his eyes away and did not meet her gaze as he went on, “but not of the regular business sort, just glance at the signature first thing, won’t you, please? And if it should be signed ‘Hugh Gordon,’ don’t read it, but lay it aside for me to look at when I return.”

He straightened up and she could feel the effort of will with which he conquered his perturbation and continued in a more offhand way: “Gordon is apt to write confidential things about his own affairs and he is the sort of man who would never think of marking a letter ‘personal.’”

Billikins trotted into the room, his doll in his mouth, and, laying his burden down in mid-floor, as if to make easier the concentration of his faculties upon the duty of investigating this stranger, advanced with signs of ready friendship. Brand responded to his overtures, but the dog, after a preliminary smell or two, broke into a sudden howl and trembled as if with fear. Reproved by Henrietta, he hastened back to his babykins, with which he rushed to a place of safety beneath her chair. There she heard him giving vent to his emotions in subdued whining and growling and in much worrying and tearing of the rag-doll.

Brand rose to go, but lingered beside his chair and made conversation, as though loath to take his leave; and Henrietta, catching a glimpse of Isabella passing through the hall, called her in.

Whenever Isabella entered a room it was like the advent of a merry little breeze. For all the look and manner of her suggested buoyant spirits and gaiety of heart, from the lurking twinkle in her blue eye to her light quick step. Daintiness and prettiness characterized her attire, which she carried gracefully, to the accompaniment of a soft, faint rustle. With pleasure Henrietta watched her employer’s face brighten and clear as he talked with her sister. The agitation faded from his manner and presently she was aware that the impression she had had of struggle and appeal, which had begun to tense her own nerves, had disappeared.

“I don’t wonder,” she thought. “Bella is so light-hearted and so merry, and so pretty and sweet, too, that she could charm away anybody’s dumps. I wish I had some of her gift that way – I’m always so serious.”

Brand suggested that they should take a spin with him in his automobile. “The day is so fine,” he pleaded, as they hesitated a little before answering. “You don’t know how splendid it is! And the roads are good down through the island.” He glanced from one to the other and Henrietta saw in his brown eyes a look of eager wistfulness.

“It would be lovely and a great treat for us,” she said. “You’ve no idea, Mr. Brand, what a temptation it is. But we don’t like to leave mother alone, for she’s never very well.”

“Oh, is that all?” he exclaimed. “Then bring her along! It would do her a lot of good. Wrap her up well and I’ll carry her out to the auto.”

He begged Isabella not to desert him while Henrietta went to prepare their mother for the drive.

“How well they get on together,” said Mrs. Marne, smiling at the gay laughter that now and then floated up the stairs.

As they came slowly down, the elder woman leaning heavily upon the other’s shoulder, Felix Brand ran into the hall, exclaiming:

“Why didn’t you call me and let me bring her down!” And at once, notwithstanding her assurance that she could walk, he picked her up and carried her to the street in his arms, saying, “I can just as well save you that fatigue,” and carefully settled her in the automobile.

“You’ll sit in the front with me and help me drive, won’t you?” he said to Isabella as the two girls came out cloaked and furred.

“Yes, do, Bella,” said Henrietta cordially in response to a glance from her sister, “and give me a chance to show what good care I can take of mother.”

Although Isabella was the elder of the two by three years and formerly had been accustomed to take the lead between them, since the younger had become the support of the family she was beginning, quite unconsciously, to lean upon and defer to her sister. During the drive Henrietta and her mother exchanged many pleased glances as they listened to the merry chatter and the frequent laughter that drifted back from the front seat. It was a smiling Felix Brand, suave, serene, and courtly of manner, who helped them from the machine on their return and carried Mrs. Marne into the house.

“Please don’t,” he said as they protested their enjoyment of the ride and their sense of his kindness. “For I assure you it has meant a great deal more pleasure and benefit to me than it possibly could to you.”

“I think he really meant that,” said Henrietta when the three women, alone again, were talking over what Mrs. Marne called their “little escapade,” “because when he came he seemed so disturbed and depressed and by the time we got back he was quite himself again. I think it was mainly you, Isabella,” she smiled at her sister, “for you seemed to have a very stimulating effect on him.”

“Oh, I’m willing to be a cocktail for him whenever he wants to bring his auto over here. Never mind, mother,” and she kissed one finger at Mrs. Marne in response to that lady’s shocked “Isabella!” “That’s just modern symbolism, you know. And the ride has made you look as if you’d had one yourself. I’m going to write to Warren that I’ve found a much nicer and handsomer man than he is and if he doesn’t get a stronger grip on my heart right quick it’s likely to get away from him.”

“Bella, dear! Don’t say such things!” admonished her mother in a grieved tone.

Isabella flew to her side and patted her cheek and kissed her brow. “There, there, mother! Don’t you know I’m just funning? Warren is the best man in the world, even if he hasn’t got bee-youtiful, caressing brown eyes, and I love him awfully, and we’re going to be married and live happily forever after. But, all the same, Felix Brand is perfectly lovely, and you think so too, now, don’t you, mother dear!”

“We all think alike about Mr. Brand, I’m sure,” she answered.