Richard looked about him for Geraldine. He did not see her; but Phœbe was in evidence. Phœbe was at a table with Mrs. Wells and Walter. The boy was eating little, but he was obviously pleased at Phœbe’s solicitous attention. She fluttered over him like a young hen, if a young hen could ever be gay, witty and encouraging, and could “burble” effervescently. After all, thought Richard, Walter was her “case.” It was she who had suggested yachting; she had even named the boat. She was the only one with any practical influence over the boy.
Evidently Jerry did not intend to lunch at Alley’s Inn. She had not appeared at breakfast. Sukie said she had gone off dressed in a walking gown—a short-skirted grey corduroy. Sukie said she went off just before sunrise and that she had taken “Count” with her.
Her reaction in “Grandfather’s Room” had been exactly opposite of Richard’s expectation. Her main anger, it seems, had been over the secrecy which she herself had originated, and which circumstances had prolonged. She had been a willing enough conspirator there, but, it appears, the conspirator had been conspired against. She believed that she was in the secret all along, and it turned out in the end that she had been completely out of it. The startling conclusion—rich man coming so pat to rescue the bankrupt heiress!—had been too much of a surprise; indeed, it seemed almost in the nature of a carefully-planned joke at her expense. That, no doubt, was part of the cause for her outburst, he reasoned.
Another cause, perhaps, was her pride in possession; she loved independence and hated dependence. How Virginia has always hated a tyrant! Her code would not permit her to be under permanent obligations to anyone. There must always be a chance to pay back, to make equal return; and what chance was here?—a bankrupt estate against millions.
There was another cause which Richard did not get—many others, indeed, but chief among them was the fact that Richard helpless and dependent upon her was a satisfactory situation, but Richard independent could fare his way whenever the so-called “spirit” should move him. His new rôle would make Jerry relatively the beggar-maid and Richard the opulent distributor of largess. She could not stand that. It was abhorrent. All her training was against succumbing to superiority.
Upon one phase of the case Richard knew his ground. He had noted the change in her the moment they had crossed the threshold of “Red Jacket.” On board the steamer she had been a lively, intelligent, well-bred American, not to be distinguished from others of that delightful group; but the transfer to her own lands transformed her. In Europe she was one of many; at “Red Jacket” she was Somebody.
One time on the way home Mrs. Wells had confided to Richard that she would be glad to get home. “Europe is always wonderful, but I could not live there,” she said. Richard confessed that he could live anywhere. But she shook her head, “In Europe I am one of a crowd; in Jerusalem township I am a Person with a capital P. There we have been the big family, for ever, it seems; and we have come to act and react like Persons. Out of Jerusalem township I always feel like a king without a country.”
The big house and the grounds and the servants were necessary background to bring out Geraldine Wells. And she fitted into them naturally, not like someone presuming to be a Person, but as one manor-born.
While Richard cogitated these weighty personal matters he was standing on the high embankment overlooking the Lake and seemed to be watching Fagner as he manœuvred the Moodiks in the growing gale. Here Jawn joined him.
“Whoop-la!” Jawn cried. The Moodiks had flapped over suddenly. “She almost went over that time! It’s a life-preserver I’ll be needing if this blow keeps up. What’s that? Thunder? Shiver-me-timbers, but it looks squally over to the sou’ by sou’-sou’-sou’-west. Excuse me for the technical language, old hoss.”