CHAPTER V

THE HONOR OF THE NAME

After a time Mrs. De Peyster rose totteringly from the sheeted library chair, mounted weakly to the more intimate asylum of her private sitting-room, and sat down and stared into her fire. She was still dazed by Judge Harvey's announcement of the decision of the New York and New England to pay no dividends.

She was not rich, as the rich count riches. Nor did she desire a greater wealth; at least not much greater. In fact, she looked down upon the possessors of those huge fortunes acquired during the last generation as upon beings of an inferior order. It was blood-discs that gave her her supremacy, not vulgar discs of gold. She had enough to maintain the De Peyster station, but just enough; and she had so adjusted her scale of living that her expenses exactly consumed her normal income—no more, no less.

That is, had exactly consumed it, except during the last year or two. One reason she had so resented Judge Harvey's criticism of her manner of living was that the criticism had the unfortunate quality of being based on truth. Of late, the struggle to maintain her inherited and rightful leadership had involved her in greatly increased expenditure, and this excess she had met in ways best known to herself.

The collapsed Mrs. De Peyster heard Matilda enter, pause, then pass into the bedroom, but did not look up; nor a moment later when Olivetta reëntered from the bedroom, did she at first raise her dejected head.

"Why, what's the matter, Cousin Caroline?" cried Olivetta.

There was no occasion for maintaining an appearance before Olivetta, who was almost as faithful and devoted as though a very member of her body. So Mrs. De Peyster related her misfortune, interrupted by frequent interjections from her sympathetic cousin.

"Do you realize what it means, Olivetta?" she concluded in a benumbed voice. "It means that, except for less than a thousand which I have on hand,—a mere nothing,—I am penniless until more dividends are due—perhaps months! I cannot go to Europe! I cannot go to Newport!"

Olivetta was first stunned, then was ejaculative with consternation.

"But, Caroline," she cried after a moment, "why not have Judge Harvey get you the money?"

"Out of the question, Olivetta; I do not care to explain." She would never unbend to Judge Harvey! Never!

"Then, why not borrow the money from the bank, as you say Judge Harvey suggested?"

"Olivetta, you should know that that is against my principles." She tried to instill proud rebuke into her voice. But just here was the pinch—or one of them. To cover the excess in her expenses she had already borrowed—secretly, for she would never have had it come to Judge Harvey's knowledge—from her bank to the very limit of her personal credit.

Olivetta's distressed eyes fell upon one of the jewel cases which Marie had left in the sitting-room.

"There are your jewels, Caroline. But, of course you wouldn't consider raising money—"

"On my jewels! How can you think of such a thing!"

"Of course not, of course not," fluttered Olivetta. "Please forgive me, Caroline. I do so admire your strict principles!"

Mrs. De Peyster accepted apology and tribute with a forgiving nod. But just here was another of the pinches. The previous spring, while in Paris, she had had her jewels most confidentially replaced with excellent imitations; and the original stones were at this moment lying as pledges in the vaults of a Parisian banker.

"But, Caroline," pursued the sympathetic Olivetta, "can't you cut down expenses and remain in town? What with your credit, you have enough for that!"

"Remain in town, when everybody is leaving?" cried Mrs. De Peyster. "Are you out of your senses Olivetta? Why, people would never stop talking about it!"

"Of course—you're right—forgive me," stammered Olivetta. "But you might go to some modest resort for the summer—or—or—go to Europe in a more modest way."

"Olivetta, you grow more absurd every moment!" exclaimed Mrs. De Peyster. "You know it has long been my custom to spend the first half of the summer in Europe, in a style befitting me, and to spend the second half in Newport. To do less would set people talking, and might endanger my position."

"Of course! Of course!" cried the humbled Olivetta.

"I hope you fully realize my dilemma."

"It is terrible—terrible!" Olivetta's tone was slow, and full of awed dismay. "You must maintain your social position and there is no money!"

"Just so."

Detailed horrors of the situation began to move in spasmodic procession through Olivetta's mind.

"And your passage is taken on the Plutonia—and it has been widely announced that you are leaving for Europe—and that newspaper is going to print your picture among the social leaders who have sailed—and, oh, Caroline, all those reporters are going to fill the papers with long articles about your going!"

A new horror, that till then had escaped Mrs. De Peyster's inventory, a horror out-climaxing any in Olivetta's tragic list, burst suddenly upon Mrs. De Peyster. Her face went pale, fell loose.

"Mrs. Allistair!" she barely articulated.

"Mrs. Allistair?" Olivetta repeated blankly.

"Don't you see—if I stay at home—don't sail—Mrs. Allistair will use it as capital against me—and she'll ride over me to—"

"Caroline!" gasped the appalled Olivetta.

Mrs. De Peyster stood up, rigid with desperation.

"I simply must sail!" she cried.

"Of course you must! Can't you think of some way out of it? I never knew you unequal to an emergency!"

Mrs. De Peyster, her brow knitted with agitated thought, walked slowly to one of her windows and stood looking down into the pleasant bustle of Washington Square. Olivetta watched her intently, waiting for the brilliant plan that would be the result of her cousin's cogitations.

But the minutes passed, Mrs. De Peyster did not move, and Olivetta's gaze wandered about the large, luxurious sitting-room. Her mind roamed afar to the desolate realm which she inhabited, and she thought of her own sitting-room, dark and stingily furnished, and rather threadbare, in which she was expecting to spend the summer, save for a few weeks at a respectable, poor-relations' resort. She sighed.

"If it wasn't for your social position," she said, half to herself, "it really wouldn't be so bad to spend the summer here."

Mrs. De Peyster must have heard, for she turned slowly about and gazed at Olivetta—gazed at her steadily. And gradually, as she gazed, her whole appearance changed. The consternation on her face was succeeded by calm resolution. Poise and dignity returned.

"You have an idea, Caroline?" cried Olivetta, struck by her look.

"Wait!"

Mrs. De Peyster stood silent for yet a few more moments. Then, completely her dignified and composed self, she stepped toward her bedroom. Olivetta's eyes followed her in wondering, worshipful fascination.

Mrs. De Peyster opened the door.

"Matilda!"

The housekeeper instantly appeared.

"Yes, Mrs. De Peyster."

"Matilda, call William and have him waiting in the hall till I summon him. Come back immediately."

"But, Cousin Caroline, what is it?" asked Olivetta excitedly, as Matilda went out.

"Wait!" said Mrs. De Peyster in a majestic tone.

A minute passed, Mrs. De Peyster standing composedly by the fireplace, Olivetta gazing at her in throbbing suspense. Then Matilda returned. Her Mrs. De Peyster summoned to her side.

"Matilda, you have proved your loyalty to me by twenty years of service," she began, "and you, Olivetta, I know are completely devoted to me. So I know you both will faithfully execute my requests. But I must ask you not to breathe a word of what I tell you, and what we do."

"I?" cried Olivetta. "Never a syllable!"

"Nor I, ma'am,—never!" declared Matilda.

"But first, Matilda, I must acquaint you with a situation that has just arisen." And Mrs. De Peyster outlined such details of her predicament as she thought Matilda needed to know. "And now, here are my orders, Matilda. The house, of course, is being boarded up as usual. All the servants are sent away except William; and that order, if you have given it, for a maid for me is to be countermanded. You, Matilda, are to remain here alone in charge of the house as has been your custom. The report that I am sailing is to be allowed to stand. But in reality—"

"Yes, in reality?" cried the excited Olivetta.

"In reality," continued Mrs. De Peyster calmly, for she knew how a dénouement is heightened by a quiet manner—"in reality, I shall, during the entire summer, stay here in my own house."

"Stay here!" ejaculated Olivetta.

"Stay here!" exclaimed Matilda.

"Stay here. Chiefly in my suite. Secretly, of course. No one but you two will ever know of it. By staying here, I shall be practically at no expense. But the world will think I am in Europe, and my position will be saved."

Staggered as she was, Olivetta had remaining a few fragments of reason.

"But—but, Caroline! You cannot merely announce that you are going abroad! You are a person of importance—your every move is observed. People will see that you do not sail. How will you get around that?"

It sounded a poser. But Mrs. De Peyster was unruffled.

"Very simply, Olivetta. You shall sail in my stead."

"Me!" cried Olivetta, yet more bewildered.

"Yes, you."

"But—but, if you cannot afford Europe for yourself, how can you afford it for me?"

"It would take a great many thousands for me to go in the manner that is expected of me. I cannot afford that. For you, Olivetta, since the passage is already paid, it would take but a few hundred—and that I can afford."

"You—you mean that I am to pass for you?"

"Yes."

"But I never can! People will know the difference!"

"People will never see you," returned the calm voice of Mrs. De Peyster. "The Plutonia sails at one to-night. You will go on board with my trunks late this evening, heavily veiled. Since no one must see you on the way over, you must of course, keep to your cabin. You must be seasick."

"But I am never seasick!" cried Olivetta.

"Then you must stay in your berth anyhow and pretend to be. You are to be too ill to receive any friends who may chance to be on board. Your stewardess will bring your meals to your stateroom. When the boat arrives, you must wait till every one else is off, and when you land you must again be heavily veiled and be too sick to speak to any one. Once you are in Paris—"

"Yes, there's the difficulty!"

"Not so great as you think. I shall give you full directions what to do. Once you are in Paris, you quietly disappear. It will become known that Mrs. De Peyster has gone off on a long motor trip through unvisited portions of Europe and will not return for the Newport season. With Mrs. De Peyster started on this trip, you become yourself, and you see Europe just as you please."

"Oh!" ejaculated Olivetta, drawing in a deep breath.

"But please, ma'am," put in Matilda, "why could you not go over yourself and then slip away to some modest resort?"

"So many people know me I should be sure to be seen and recognized. And then think of the talk! No, that would never do. I have considered all possibilities. My plan is best."

"Of course, you're right, ma'am," agreed Matilda.

"On the way back, Olivetta, you are to preserve the same precautions as on the way over. And to avoid any possible difficulty in getting into the house, I shall provide you with a key to the house and one to my sitting-room."

"But you, ma'am," objected Matilda, "in the mean time you cannot stay cooped up all summer in this room!"

"I do not intend to," returned Mrs. De Peyster with her consummate calm, which assured her co-conspirators that they could lean untroubled upon her unblundering brain. "Matilda, will you now please have William come in?"

Matilda, bewildered but obedient, stepped to the door and a moment later followed in the most clean-shaven, the most stiffly perpendicular, the most deferentially dignified, the most irreproachably expressionless of men-servants. He was the ultimate development of his kind. It seems almost a sacrilege to add that he was past man's perfect prime, and to hint that perhaps his scanty, unstreaked hair sought surreptitious rejuvenation in a drug-store bottle.

"William, Matilda will acquaint you with certain alterations in my plans," began his mistress. "I desire to add that she will remain in the house alone during my absence; that you are to keep to your quarters in the stable and not enter the house; and that you are to arrange to take, at my expense, all your meals outside."

William inclined his body slightly, as if to say, "Yes, my lady."

"And in order to give the horses proper exercise, and to relieve Matilda's monotony, I desire you to take Matilda out driving every evening."

Again William bowed a "Yes, my lady."

"You understand this perfectly?"

William's lips executed one of their rare movements.

"Perfectly, Mrs. De Peyster."

"Very well."

Mrs. De Peyster dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and William made the exit of a minister from his queen.

"You don't mean—" began Matilda, almost breathless.

"Yes, I mean that I shall go out driving nightly in your clothes," responded Mrs. De Peyster.

"But—but—" gasped Matilda.

"Have no fear. I shall, of course, be veiled, and William is the best-trained, the most incurious of servants."

Mrs. De Peyster, looking her most majestic, stood waiting for the outburst of approval, just tribute to one who has conceived a supernally clever and flawless scheme.

"Well, now, Matilda," she prompted, "what do you think of the whole plan?"

"Since you thought it out, I—I—suppose it's all right," stammered Matilda.

"And you, Olivetta, what do you think?"

"Me!" cried Olivetta, who for the last minute had with difficulty restrained her ecstasy. "Paris!—the Louvre!—the Luxembourg!—Versailles!" She flung her arms about Mrs. De Peyster's neck amid a shower of hairpins. "Oh, Caroline—Caroline. It's—it's simply glorious!"