Booth Tarkington (18381918). The Magnificent Ambersons. 1918.
BREAKFAST was brought to him in his room, as usual; but he did not make his normal healthy raid upon the dainty tray: the food remained untouched, and he sustained himself upon coffeefour cups of it, which left nothing of value inside the glistening little percolator. During this process he heard his mother being summoned to the telephone in the hall, not far from his door, and then her voice responding: Yes? Oh, its you!... Indeed I should!... Of course.... Then Ill expect you about three... Yes.... Good-bye till then. A few minutes later he heard her speaking to someone beneath his window and, looking out, saw her directing the removal of plants from a small garden bed to the Majors conservatory for the winter. There was an air of briskness about her; as she turned away to go into the house, she laughed gaily with the Majors gardener over something he said, and this unconcerned cheerfulness of her was terrible to her son.
He went to his desk, and, searching the jumbled contents of a drawer, brought forth a large, unframed photograph of his father, upon which he gazed long and piteously, till at last hot tears stood in his eyes. It was strange how the inconsequent face of Wilbur seemed to increase in high significance during this belated interview between father and son; and how it seemed to take on a reproachful nobilityand yet, under the circumstances, nothing could have been more natural than that George, having paid but the slightest attention to his father in life, should begin to deify him, now that he was dead. Poor, poor father! the son whispered brokenly. Poor man, Im glad you didnt know!
He wrapped the picture in a sheet of newspaper, put it under his arm, and, leaving the house hurriedly and stealthily, went downtown to the shop of a silversmith, where he spent sixty dollars on a resplendently festooned silver frame for the picture. Having lunched upon more coffee, he returned to the house at two oclock, carrying the framed photograph with him, and placed it upon the centre-table in the library, the room most used by Isabel and Fanny and himself. Then he went to a front window of the long reception room, and sat looking out through the lace curtains.
The house was quiet, though once or twice he heard his mother and Fanny moving about upstairs, and a ripple of song in the voice of Isabela fragment from the romantic ballad of Lord Bateman.
Lord Bateman was a noble lord,
A noble lord of high degree;
And he sailed West and he sailed East,
Far countries for to see....
George looked often at his watch, but his vigil did not last an hour. At ten minutes of three, peering through the curtain, he saw an automobile stop in front of the house and Eugene Morgan jump lightly down from it. The car was of a new pattern, low and long, with an ample seat in the tonneau, facing forward; and a professional driver sat at the wheel, a strange figure in leather, goggled out of all personality and seemingly part of the mechanism.
Eugene himself, as he came up the cement path to the house, was a figure of the new era which was in time to be so disastrous to stiff hats and skirted coats; and his appearance afforded a debonair contrast to that of the queer-looking duck capering at the Amberson Ball in an old dress coat, and next day chugging up National Avenue through the snow in his nightmare of a sewing-machine. Eugene, this afternoon, was richly in the new outdoor mode: his motoring coat was soft gray fur; his cap and gloves were of gray suede; and though Lucys hand may have shown itself in the selection of these high garnitures, he wore them easily, even with a becoming hint of jauntiness. Some change might be seen in his face, too, for a successful man is seldom to be mistaken, especially if his temper be genial. Eugene had begun to look like a millionaire.
But above everything else, what was most evident about him, as he came up the path, was his confidence in the happiness promised by his present errand; the anticipation in his eyes could have been read by a stranger. His look at the door of Isabels house was the look of a man who is quite certain that the next moment will reveal something ineffably charming, inexpressibly dear.
George went slowly to the front door, and halted, regarding the misty silhouette of the caller upon the ornamental frosted glass. After a minute of waiting, this silhouette changed outline so that an arm could be distinguishedan arm outstretched toward the bell, as if the gentleman outside doubted whether or not it had sounded, and were minded to try again. But before the gesture was completed George abruptly threw open the door, and stepped squarely upon the middle of the threshold.
A slight change shadowed the face of Eugene; his look of happy anticipation gave way to something formal and polite. How do you do, George, he said. Mrs. Minafer expects to go driving with me, I believeif youll be so kind as to send her word that Im here.
I doubt if I could make it much plainer, George said, raising his voice slightly, but Ill try. Youre not wanted in this house, Mr. Morgan, now or at any other time. Perhaps youll understandthis!
Then, not moving away, he stood just inside the door, and noted that the misty silhouette remained upon the frosted glass for several moments, as if the forbidden gentleman debated in his mind what course to pursue. Let him ring again! George thought grimly. Or try the side dooror the kitchen!
But Eugene made no further attempt; the silhouette disappeared; footsteps could be heard withdrawing across the floor of the veranda; and George, returning to the window in the reception room, was rewarded by the sight of an automobile manufacturer in baffled retreat, with all his wooing furs and fineries mocking him. Eugene got into his car slowly, not looking back at the house which had just taught him such a lesson; and it was easily visibleeven from a window seventy feet distantthat he was not the same light suitor who had jumped so gallantly from the car only a few minutes earlier. Observing the heaviness of his movements as he climbed into the tonneau, George indulged in a sickish throat rumble which bore a distant cousinship to mirth.
The car was quicker than its owner; it shot away as soon as he had sunk into his seat; and George, having watched its impetuous disappearance from his field of vision, ceased to haunt the window. He went to the library, and, seating himself beside the table whereon he had placed the photograph of his father, picked up a book, and pretended to be engaged in reading it.
Presently Isabels buoyant step was heard descending the stairs, and her low, sweet whistling, renewing the air of Lord Bateman. She came into the library, still whistling thoughtfully, a fur coat over her arm, ready to put on, and two veils round her small black hat, her right hand engaged in buttoning the glove upon her left; and, as the large room contained too many pieces of heavy furniture, and the inside shutters excluded most of the light of day, she did not at once perceive Georges presence. Instead, she went to the bay window at the end of the room, which afforded a view of the street, and glanced out expectantly; then bent her attention upon her glove; after that, looked out toward the street again, ceased to whistle, and turned toward the interior of the room.
She came, leaned over from behind him, and there was a faint, exquisite odour as from distant apple-blossoms as she kissed his cheek. Dear, I waited lunch almost an hour for you, but you didnt come! Did you lunch out somewhere?
A tinkling bell was audible, and she moved to the doorway into the hall. Im going out driving, dear. I She interrupted herself to address the housemaid, who was passing through the hall: I think its Mr. Morgan, Mary. Tell him Ill be there at once.
You must have cut him off short! she laughed; and then, still standing in the doorway, she noticed the big silver frame upon the table beside him. Gracious, Georgie! she exclaimed. You have been investing! and as she came across the room for a closer view, Is itis it Lucy? she asked half timidly, half archly. But the next instant she saw whose likeness was thus set forth in elegiac splendourand she was silent, except for a long, just-audible Oh!
He said nothing, and, standing beside him, she put her hand gently upon his shoulder, then as gently withdrew it, and went out of the room. But she did not go upstairs; he heard the faint rustle of her dress in the hall, and then the sound of her footsteps in the reception room. After a time, silence succeeded even these slight tokens of her presence; whereupon George rose and went warily into the hall, taking care to make no noise, and he obtained an oblique view of her through the open double doors of the reception room. She was sitting in the chair which he had occupied so long; and she was looking out of the window expectantlya little troubled.