From: Arden Town (1913; Unpublished MS)
Author: Scott Nearing
Published:
It was high noon when the bow of the “Kitty” touched the dock. Ruth Wade sprang lightly to shore. Fred Allen followed more slowly, saying, as they walked toward the hotel,—
“You have given me something to think about, Miss Wade. What you say is Utopian, but it is also inspiring and cheering. Thank you for it.”
“I am very glad that you liked it,” replied Ruth Wade, quietly.
“So am I,” said Fred Allen, honestly.
That afternoon found him alone, five miles down the beach. He had been walking and thinking—thinking and walking. Now his mind was made up.
“No,” he said aloud, “I simply can’t do it. I was sure when I came down, but now—”
He walked back toward the hotel with a determined stride. Even when he sank ankle-deep in a stretch of loose sand he did not slacken his pace. After sweeping along for a time with his head down and his forehead furrowed in thought, he came into sudden contact with a yellow parasol. Before he could apologize, the back of the parasol was replaced by Eleanor Treat’s stylish figure. She, too, was walking on the beach alone.
“So you are alone.” The words slipped from her unthinkingly. She would have given a world to unsay them after it was too late.
“Yes, I have been—taking a walk.”
“Oh,” she said.
“You see,” he stumbled on, “I—I wanted to be alone, so I went—for a walk. How is your mother?”
He knew that the question was absurd enough. He knew that it was doubly absurd for him to be perturbed over so commonplace a meeting. Yet she had come upon him so unexpectedly! Then, from the first day that he had met her, Eleanor Treat had a powerful effect upon him. She was certainly charming; her style was exquisite, and her personality was of the strongest. After all, could he keep his resolution to break off his relations with her? He had come to the shore to clinch his engagement. He felt that Eleanor would accept him. He had met Ruth Wade and decided to free himself from Eleanor Treat forever. Now, meeting her, he hesitated, uncertain. After all, he told himself, Eleanor might prove to be the better girl of the two—at least so far as he was concerned. Perhaps—why, of course, Ruth Wade did not care. She was interested in her cousin, so interested that she had invited herself to accompany him to the shore. These thoughts leaped through his brain as he stood abashed before one of his oldest, fondest friends.
“Shall we walk back toward the hotel?” she asked to relieve his embarrassment.
“By all means,” he replied, “the walking is—excellent.”
She looked at him covertly.
“I am afraid you are not enjoying your stay as much as you expected to,” she ventured, with the best of motives.
Fred Allen was again at a loss. What did she mean? He had no idea, yet he stumbled on,—
“No—yes—I am having an excellent time—but I have not seen you since—”
“Yesterday.”
“Yes, since yesterday. Where have you been?”
“I have been about as usual,” Eleanor Treat emphasized the “I,” then waited pointedly for his reply.
“True enough, I was—out sailing this morning. The water was splendid.” He heaved his shoulders with a. great effort. “Eleanor, I think that I will go back to town to-night.”
“Why, you astonish me!”
“Well, I astonish myself. To tell the truth, I just thought of going. I suppose I shall go, though. Let me see, the express leaves at seven-twenty and nine-forty-four.”
“What do you expect to do with—Mr. Bennett?”
“Of course. I can’t leave him. No, I must stay. Will you—will you take lunch with me to-morrow?”
“Gladly.”
“Thank you. Well, here we are.”
They walked up the hotel steps. Eleanor, quiet and self-possessed, gripped her parasol handle rigidly. Her face was set. She had never seen this man agitated before. Could it be possible that an artist girl could make such havoc in three days?
Fred Allen went straight to his room and threw himself down, on a chair, covering his face with his hands. For a long time he sat there thinking. At last he groaned aloud, “The devil pulls at my left shoulder, and the deep sea—the deep blue sea—yawns at my right elbow. What shall I do?”
He had been at the shore for three days, and according to his pre-arranged plans, which, like the laws of the Medes and the Persians, were about as flexible as steel girders, his engagement with Eleanor should have been settled by now; yet during those days, neither he nor Eleanor had enjoyed even the semblance of peace. Rather, for both they had been days of anguish. Heretofore his life had been readily guided along an even way, which was seldom disturbed by changing events. Now he was deeply perturbed. Through every fiber of his being he felt the grip of a new power, a power that he had never felt before, tearing at him. He had given his word to himself, if not to Eleanor. Could he retract that? He had ma.de up his mind. Was not that sufficient? Yet the passion gripped him mercilessly, and waking or sleeping, Ruth Wade’s wonderful eyes followed him unceasingly. He had never seriously thought that he was in love with Eleanor Treat. He liked her, and she liked him. All of his friends told him that it would be a good match, and he had settled the matter in his own mind once for all. And now, another person entered his life, and the whole world was eclipsed or tinged with the glory of her presence. How could he, in common decency to himself and to his friends, give up Eleanor Treat? How could he let Ruth Wade go and still live? Perhaps an hour had passed when he heard a noise in the adjoining room.
“Sam,” he called quickly.
“Hello, old chap,” came back in Sam’s cordial voice.
“Time for dinner?”
“Just about.”
Fred Allen rose unsteadily to his feet, dressed, and went down to the dining-room. He was not hungry, but he realized the necessity for caution. No one should know, he told himself.
Ruth Wade was particularly brilliant that evening. Her eyes and hair were enchanting, her wit captivating. She rallied Sam about his Western ways, and laughed at his ponderous legal phrases. She spared Fred Allen, who ate in silence. Perhaps her intuitive quickness warned her of danger, perhaps she sensed the situation. Neither she nor Fred Allen had ever mentioned Eleanor Treat’s name to the other. Now, as Fred sat, he could see Eleanor Treat on the far side of the dining-room. Her face was a little pale, yet her demeanor was more dignified than usual.
After dinner the two parties met as if by engagement. Mrs. Treat was stiff and unsocial; Eleanor was nervous; Ruth Wade was radiant; and the two men, smoking their cigars, were as inscrutable as the Sphinx; yet they tingled with the unrest which everyone felt.
“Mr. Bennett,” said Eleanor Treat suddenly, “would you like to walk out on the pier with Mother and me and listen to the concert?”
“With the greatest of pleasure,” replied Sam Bennett, pulling himself together. The invitation came as an utter surprise, as Eleanor Treat had heretofore ignored him.
“Come, then,” she said, going. “Will you come also?” she asked over her shoulder.
Fred Allen got quickly to his feet.
“I should like to get a wrap,” said Ruth Wade. “Will you wait an instant for me?”
Eleanor Treat did not seem to hear. Already she had drawn her mother toward the door. Sam Bennett followed dutifully, leaving Ruth Wade and Fred Allen looking on uncertainly at each other.
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