But though her proud mother (herself
of antecedents the most impossible) was
wont to boast to her intimates that "Gerry
had got in with the swells," no one knew
better than Geraldine herself that she was



392



OVERLAND MONTHLY.



distinctly without the pale; that she but
clung precariously to the fringe of soci-
ety's mantle.

Grantham, the little city which had been
the early home of the Travis family, and
where they still spent a part of each sum-
mer, was a mere overgrown village where
the line of social demarkation was none too
carefully drawn. Yet that such a line ex-
isted, and that she had never crossed and
might never cross it, Geraldine was well
aware. She frequented the Assembly
dances and other semi-public functions; a
few kindly (or careless) hostesses invited
her for their larger affairs; the girls who
had been her classmates at the village
academy (including Edith Travis) were
always courteous, though they did not call
but to the intimate little dinners, dances
and bridge parties which made up the daily
life of these more fortunate girls, she
knew herself as much a stranger as Alice
Lemp, the bar-keeper's daughter, in whose
envious eyes Geraldine was as the very
glass of fashion. At the Assemblies, the
men of Edith Travis' set were eager al-
ways for as many dances as Geraldine
chose to give them; they nattered and
mildly flirted with her ; but the girl's sen-
sitive pride made her acutely aware of a
subtle, infinitessimal something which dif-
ferentiated their treatment of her from
their manner toward the girls of their im-
mediate circle.

Hugh Travis had been the sole excep-
tion; he alone had made her feel herself
not wholly alien. His manner to this so-
cial probationer had been always as
gracefully gallant as, for example, to
lovely Mignon Ford, who to hapless Ger-
aldine stood for all she herself would have
been and was not.

The girl was accustomed to admiration
ad nauseam; to attentions, wholly unpro-
ductive of intentions, she was not a
stranger; but of that deeper devotion
which leaps all barriers and bursts all
bounds she had no experience, save in the
case of Burke, her father's partner, a
bluff, good-looking young fellow, happily
ignorant of his limitations and cheerfully
impervious to Geraldine's snubs and
slights. The girl's position was anoma-
lous. She had risen above her own class,
but had failed to attain to a higher; and
she now seemed to have reached the ulti-



mate of achievement. The men of her
own rank were awed by her superior pres-
tige; those of Travis' set admired her
(rather too obviously) ; but Hardy Burke
alone seemed in any wise eager for an al-
liance with the motley tribe of the house
of Farris.

Travis' inherent courtesy and native
kindliness had enabled him to meet the
situation. His manner toward the girl
was admirable, adequate but not exagger-
ated, neither under nor overdone, and she
felt for him accordingly a gratitude which
he himself would have been quick to pro-
nounce disproportionate. He had never
called, but twice or thrice when courtesy
made the attention incumbent upon him,
he had taken her home in his motor; and
at a dance at the Country Club the nigjit
before, he left for his ill-starred cruise in
Cortlandt's "Volante," he had claimed two
dances and sat out a third on the moonlit
piazza, discreetly chaperoned (and dis-
cussed) by a group of gossiping matrons.
He had promised her some corals from
Naples (every girl of his acquaintance had
exacted upon him her choice of souvenirs)
and the corals, along with a breezy bit of
a note had reached her just a day in ad-
vance of the news which had devastated
the Travis household.

In the long, empty, but strangely illu-
minative hours which follow upon bereave-
ment, Elinor Travis, by virtue of her
affection for Hugh, between whose men-
tal processes and her own there had been
something telepathic, arrived at a singu-
larly accurate estimate of the situation
love is ever the key to understanding. She
did not, however, communicate the result
of her deductions to her daughter, who
was already sufficiently out of sympathy
with the situation so suddenly and sadly
thrust upon them; but aware of what
Hugh would have wished, whatever the
true inwardness of the case, she called at
once, accompanied by the reluctant Edith.

Secretly the mother shrank from an ex-
pected scene; but Geraldine, with true
American adaptability, had schooled her-
self to a Vere de Vere repose, which rivaled
Mrs. Travis's own. Her treatment of the
difficult situation was perfect. With her
wonted vividness something subdued in
her sombre garb, she was so beautiful that
for a moment the mother's mind reverted



THE KEY.



393



to the more obvious explanation surely
the girl was lovely enough to substantiate
the Circean theory! But apart from her
beauty there was about her nothing pro-
nounced or aggressive; she might easily
have been of the very elect, as she said and
did the requisite things with no hint of
nervousness or embarrassment in her
manner. It was she who first spoke of
Hugh; and that she introduced it with
perfect tact did not lessen Mrs. Travis's
distaste for his name on her lips.

"We must not abandon hope/' the girl
said at parting. "It's quite possible the
yacht's boats have been picked up by some
sailing vessel bound to a foreign port.
Don't lose heart, Mrs. Travis. The ocean
is a much-traveled thoroughfare these
days, and there's still room for hope."

That which Geraldine had suggested, in
a random snatching at ;> some straw of com-
fort for the bereft, proved actually and
exactly the fact. The Volante, rammed in
the darkness by a passing vessel which had
failed to stand by, had filled so slowly as
to admit of the boats being lowered with-
out confusion or haste. Indeed, the liner
which had picked up the larger boat con-
taining the yacht's crew, reported her still
afloat at dawn, though rapidly settling.
The smaller boat (which had held the
Vol ante's sailing-master, her owner and
his guests), drifting away in the darkness,
was nowhere to be seen on the face of the
waters; and as days passed without tid-
ings, was ultimately conceded lost. As a
matter of fact, it had been picked up, after
a few days of fair weather and no par-
ticular hardship to its occupants, by a
sailing vessel bound to the Azores. With-
in three weeks, Hugh was in communica-
tion by cable with his people; and in
rather less than a fortnight later found
himself in the New York office of his sis-
ter's fiance. He had sent Aylward a wire-
less the previous day, but was planning to
surprise his mother.

"I've just had a letter from Edith," Ayl-
ward was prompt to volunteer. "Your
mother's herself again, though naturally
very impatient. And Miss Farris is better
but of course you've advices direct ! She
seemed to collapse completely when your
cable came ; she'd been keeping up so won-
derfully, but the long strain finally told.
However, she's very much better."



Just why Aylward should have assumed
that news of Miss Farris had any special
significance for him, Hugh was at a loss
to conjecture, but he none the less es-
sayed obligingly the effect of interest evi-
dently expected.

"Delighted to hear it, I'm sure. A
handsome young woman, Aylward, and
clever and charming as well. She's had a
pretty stiff social struggle, but I. think she
will win out in the end. She's likely to
marry well "

"Kef reshingly modest !" smiled Aylward,
"but I think the prediction's a safe one.
The affair proved a boon to your mother,
Travis. You'd kept it so uncommonly
quiet and it came as such a surprise as

?uite to lift her out of the lethargy she'd
alien into when your fate seemed as-
sured.

Hugh's face had gone a little white.

"Will you kindly stop speaking in par-
ables, Aylward," he said, sharply, "and
tell me in plain Anglo-Saxon just what
you're talking about ?"

Aylward felt a trifle awkward. His
mental processes were not rapid, and he
had never arrogated to himself any par-
ticular acumen, but even hi^ slow percip-
ience sensed a situation which he regretted
having precipitated. However, there was
nothing for it but to answer bluntly
enough :

"Your engagement to Miss Farris. It
spread through the village the day we got
news of the wreck, and if not authorized,
it certainly was not denied by Miss Far-
ris's family. Indeed, she tacitly admitted
it, and it was on that assumption that your
mother "

As Aylward spoke, one of those illumi-
native and comprehensive moments the
drowning are said to experience was vouch-
safed Hugh. In a flash he reviewed his
entire acquaintance with the girl ; and in
that brief space he accused and acquitted
himself. He recalled with relief the triv-
ialities of their casual converse, the im-
personal character of his attentions yet
stay ! That last night on the piazza at the
Country Club ! Had there been anything,
a word,' a look even, upon which a miscon-
ception might have been based? He tor-
tured his memory for details, but none
came to his reassurance. The thought of
his fatal predilection for pretty phrases



394



OVERLAND MONTHLY.



made him wince. He began to feel sicken-
ing] y sure that some idle gallantry had
lent a personal significance to an interest
of the most impersonal. In that case * *
he set his teeth hard and took his cue. ,

"I beg your pardon, Alyward," he said
a trifle unsteadily. "You quite took me
off my feet for an instant. You see I we
hadn't meant to announce it quite yet,
and it was rather a facer coming like this.*'
He was aware that he was doing it very
badly, but equally aware that the effort was
his best.

"I quite understand," Aylward answered
amiably and Travis wondered if more
than the mere surface significance underlay
the words. Throughout his cruise on the
luckless Volante and the anxious days
which followed, a woman's face had been
constantly before Hugh's mental vision,
but the face was not that of Geraldine Far-
ris. The thought of this other woman
smote him with the poignance of a physical
pang. The far-reaching consequences of
his course began to present themselves. He
felt sick and stunned, utterly incapable of
playing up to the situation thus thrust up-
on him, and it was a relief when he found
himself alone at la"st on board a South-
bound train, where he might face the mat-
ter and have it out with himself.

His recollection of that last evening at
home, as connected with Miss Farris, were
of the vaguest. That she had misconstrued
some careless speech of his was clear. It
was equally evident that there was but
one course open to him. But as the miles
which lay between him and Grantham de-
creased, the ghastliness of the situation
thrust itself more forcibly upon him. A
deeper pang pierced him as the home com-
ing (which had meant something so dif-
ferent three hours earlier) approached.
For though there were intervals wherein
he dubbed himself "a Quixotic fool" and
absolved himself from obligation, not for
an instant did he really waive the exac-
tions of a very literal 'Construction of
noblesse oblige. However it had come
about, Geraldine Farris's name had been
coupled with his for weeks, and there was
no question as to what honor, what even
common decency demanded.

He had never greatly admired Miss
Farris; her opulent blonde beauty was too
pronounced to quite please his taste, and



such courtesies as he had shown her had
been largely perfunctory or at best -a trib-
ute to her struggle against conditions. He
was possessed of a fine fastidiousness
(against which he strove as a species of
snobbishness) which made him alive to
a certain hardness and coarseness of fibre
underlying the girl's grace and charm of
manner. But he did not allow this or any
like consideration to influence his resolve.
He set his jaw tensely and accepted the
situation as best he might. Yet all the
while a face "star-sweet on a gloom pro-
found" (for if ever man was shrouded
in black and bitter melancholy, Travis
was that man) was before him. What
would she, what could she think, this girl
to whom he had given the best of himself,
and who, though he had never quite found
courage to put it into words, must know
what he felt for &er? He knew well
enough what the attitude of the world
his world would be: he could figure per-
fectly the interpretation Braithe and his
ilk would put upon the affair; but in the
last analysis he felt that this was a minor
consideration, and that all that really mat-
tered was the attitude of two women his
mother and Mignon. Would they, could
they understand without the explanations
which must inevitably brand him a cad?

Scarcely in the mood for greetings,
queries and congratulations, he left the
train at Elmwood, got a car from the local
garage and drove slowly across the coun-
try toward Grantham, praying devoutly
for the sheltering dusk to cover his ar-
rival. It was one of Fate's characteristic
little ironies that just without the village
he should encounter Braithe, his bete-noir,
who left his car to greet him with a cor-
diality beyond cavil and congratulate him
with a fervor behind which Travis sensed
a gargoyle grin.

He found only his mother and Edith
at home, his father, the slave of a giant
system, was hurrying across the conti-
nent to meet him, but had not, as yet,
arrived. Through the joy at reunion,
Hugh was conscious of a sense of con-
straint: a veiled something in his sister's
eyes hurt him keenly; of his mother he
would not allow himself to make sure
till they found themselves alone. Then, as
their eyes met, he knew with the first
sense oi' comfort he had experienced since



THE KEY.



395



Aylward's revelation that there was need
for neither excuse nor explanation.

"Yes, dear," she answered hurriedly, as
if he had spoken, "I know. I understood
from the first. I see your position. I
think it must be though I know what it
means to you. But perhaps something

the girl's intuitions " Hugh tried to

smile.

"Perhaps," he assented. "I think I'll go
at once, Madre. I'd like to be sure."

"And Mignon?" The word rose re-
sistlessly to her lips. The next instant she
would have given much to recall it. The
look in Hugh's eyes was a revelation.

"Don't !" he cried sharply. "Can't you
see that I mustn't think of her now?"

It was a mere wraith of the Geraldine
he remembered who confronted Travis in
the garish Farris drawing-room. Her
face was pinched and drawn; a scourged
soul looked from her frightened eyes. She
shrank, she almost cowered before him,
like a beaten thing. The thin veneering
of refinement and repose she had so pain-
fully acquired had disappeared, leaving
bare, for the moment, emotions of the most
elemental. Shame, fear and apprehension
were written large on her face. The hand
Travis touched was icy, and it was a long
moment before she could force herself to
meet the gaze, searching though kindly,
he instinctively bent upon her. In that
moment he knew the truth; knew himself
blameless, and yet knew himself none the
less in pit}^ if not in honor, bound.

"I I " the girl panted desperately,
dry-lipped and deadly pale, "I don't know
what to say to you ! I can't explain ex-
cuse " '

"Don't try, please." Travis's voice was
so gentle that she started. "There's no
need." He had come prepared to "lie like
a gentleman," if need be, to save the girl's
self-respect, but he saw himself spared that
necessity at least. "Geraldine, will you
marry me, at once?"

The girl recoiled as if he had struck
her.

"Oh," she breathed, "you don't mean it
you can't ! I won't let you sacrifice

"There's no question of sacrifice."
Hugh's voice was quite steady now. "I
came to-night to ask you to be my wife.
No, please" as she essayed to speak
"don't trouble yourself with explanations.



We'll waive all that if you don't mind.
Let's take the situation as it stands. You
are a woman of whom any man might be
proud, Miss Farris, and I ask you to do
me the honor to be my wife."

The girl bent her face upon her hands.
For a brief instant a wild hope that a
miracle had made all well had flashed up-
on her, but a glance at Hugh's set face
was illuminative. She knew his action
for what it was; knew that chivalry alone
had prompted the baldly formal phrases
which seemed to open a clear path from
the labyrinth of horror she had been
threading since the news had come of
Hugh Travis's rescue. She had dreaded
something so different; contempt thinly
veiled and humiliation of the bitterest;
and here were courtesy and consideration
instead. For an instant the girl's better
nature fought the baser, urging renuncia-
tion in return ; but how could she face the
consequences of her cheap deception with-
out the sacrifice of her pride? The world
would guess the truth; how could she live
it down? On the other hand, what pos-
sibilities offered! She saw herself in a
position to patronize those who had ac-
corded her perfunctory notice; to prove
her prowess to Burke (the thought of him
gave her an instant's pause) ; to take high
rank as a social leader. She knew she
would not discredit the position; she ad-
mitted her beauty, her charm and adapt-
ability as assets; it was even within the
bounds of possibility that she might win
for herself something more than mere
toleration at the hands of the man before
her. If not, the situation saved by his
acceptance of the engagement, it would
be easy (so she salved her conscience) to
release him at any time. * * * Her de-
cision was made.

"You are very generous, Mr. Travis,"
she said, quietly, "and I shall be happy to
marry you whenever you wish."

What the next fortnight held of exqui-
site torture for Travis only his mother
guessed and not even she shared the se-
cret of Geraldine's self -revelation. His
father had bravely put by his disappoint-
ment he had expected much of Hugh
and genially condoned what he termed
"the boy's infatuation," finding extenu-
ation therefor in Geraldine's wonderful
beauty; between Hugh and his sister a

8



396



OVERLAND MONTHLY.



constraint which he seemed unable to dis-
pel had sprung up; the attitude of his ac-
quaintance, masculine or feminine, was
respectively pitying or sheepishly sympa-
thetic. The one thing which made the
situation endurable was the fact that Mig-
non Ford was in Paris. He felt that he
could not have faced her as Miss Farris's
fiance.

Geraldine was much at the Travis man-
sion in those days. Perhaps Mrs. Travis
guessed how the girl's environment jarred
upon her son; or more possibly she strove
to make matters easier for him by sharing
his obligations. Be that as it may, he
found himself spared too frequent tete-a-
tetes with his fiancee., about whom his
mother's hospitality centered engrossing-
ly. His manner toward the girl left noth-
ing to be desired; he was rigidly ob-
servant of all outward forms and courte-
sies; and she, in turn, reciprocated by
thrusting herself upon him as little as
might be. There were moments when she
read something akin to revulsion in his
face, and contrition urged her to renuncia-
tion; but though her heart was not in-
vohed, she found it difficult to relinquish
her new-found prestige and the social su-
premacy which was still an agreeable nov-
elty. She daily resolved to be generous;
but selfishness and cowardice conspired
to suggest procrastination.

At the outset, Hugh, in a very passion
of despair, sick with disgust and loathing
of himself and the situation, had deliber-
ately determined to make the best by mak-
ing the worst of the affair; to adjust his
sensibilities to the lower plane upon which
his whole life must be spent ; to drown the
memory of Mignon in the wine of this
woman's lips; to steep his senses in her
sheer physical perfections, and succumb
unresistingly to the Circean spell of her
beauty. But he could not. He shrank
(more palpably than ha guessed) from the
chance touch of her hand; her very beauty
seemed to him tawdry and cheap; Mig-
non's flower-face interposed ever between
him and the woman with whose kisses he
would have drugged his soul.

One day, a few weeks after his return,
as he lounged in the library, ostensibly oc-
cupied with a book while his mother and
sister planned with Geraldine the details
of the large reception they were giving in



her honor, his dulled sensibilities were
quickened into sudden, tense alertness by
a casual speech of his sister's.

"We'll have Helen and Lucy Kirk and
Mrs. Worthington" Edith was making a
list of those to be asked to receive "and
Mignon Ford, of course. Walt tells me
they expect her not later than Thursday/"'

The book fell unheeded from Travis's
hand. Mignon was coming home, Mig-
non. his little white blossom he pulled
himself up sharply. Mignon was coming
indeed to witness his irksome captivity,
to pity or possibly despise him. Fate
might have spared him this! With a
muttered word of excuse on his lips and
desperation in his eyes, he flung out of
the house to return at nightfall jaded
from a long tramp afield, his hurt un-
healed by any soothing balm of Nature's
brewing.

But when the next afternoon brought
him an imperative summons from Geral-
dine, he was, as always, promptly compli-
ant. Something in the girl's face as she
gave him her hand stirred within him a
wild impulse of hope which he sternly
dismissed.

"I want to thank you for your goodness,
Mr. Travis." she said, simply, "and to
release you from any obligation to me.
I've known from the first you were sacri-
ficing yourself, but I didn't know just
what a sacrifice it was till yesterday. I
I saw your face when your sister men-
tioned Mignon Ford. Please don't think
T wouV 1 have let you go on with this if T
had guessed." Travis tried to speak, to
protest, but no words came.

"Will you let me tell you about it ?" the
girl went on. "Please let me explain the
whole matter. I didn't plan it deliber-
ately it all came about by degrees, so
gradually that I found myself committed
before I quite realized it. Alice Lemp
and Hester Darrell were calling the day
the corals and your letter came. They at-
tached undue significance to the gift
they'd heard some foolish gossip about
your attentions that night at the Country
Club and they rallied me about my con-
quest, which my foolish vanity wouldn't
let me disclaim. I didn't dream of -the
consequences. Before night our engage-
ment was rumored, and when t 1 news
came of the wreck, the neighbo L-ame in



THE KEY.



397



to condole which was my first intimation
of the mistake. My impulse was to ex-
plain, to deny; then temptation assailed
me. Why not let it stand? It couldn't
hurt you; it would mean so much to me.
Already I could see Fd gained prestige
and I knew that my future position was
assured. And" her voice dropped a lit-
tle "there was some one I wanted to hurt,
to make feel my superiority. So so I
just let it go on. * * * And then when
the news of your rescue came, I was des-
perate with shame and terror! I imag-
ined all sorts of horrible things, exposure,
humiliation T hardly knew what in-
deed, I was well punished for my folly.
Ar-d when you came and were so generous
to me, I knew I ought to be equally so
to you but I simply couldn't. I couldn't
bear to face the sneers and innuendos of
my world. But I didn't guess, believe me,
I didn't, just how hard it would be for

y 0ll '

Hugh's face flushed hotly.

"Miss Farris," he began, "if I've been
cad enough

"Oh, you haven't ! You've been all that
was kind and good. But I see now that
even if you hadn't loved Mignon, you'd
never have cared for me. We don't speak
the same language; we could nevei T .ave*
been happy together." Again Hugh cast
himself into the breach.

"Miss Farris Geraldine," he protested,
"I assure you "

"Please don't perjure yourself," she'
interposed dryly, "and please doA'c mis-
understand. I've been afraid you might
be troubled by the thought that I cared.
But I didn't, really at least not in that
way. I've been grateful enough to have
worshipped you for treating me less like
a Pariah than the rest but that was all.
I've cared for another man all the while
a man my snobbishness sent away. I
telegraphed him last night and he's com-
ing this afternoon." There was a little
silence which Hugh tried in vain to
bridge. It was Geraldine who first spoke.

"Please set your mind quite at rest
about me. I've been a fish out of water,
and I'm far more comfortable back in my
native element. I could never have felt