Michael O'Halloran — The Song of a Bird
"I am sure I don't know!"
said Mrs. Minturn.
"I suppose it's unlimited means to follow any fad or fancy, to live extravagantly as they choose, to dress faultlessly as they have taste, freedom to go as they please!
Oh they do have a good time!"
"Are you sure that they didn't go through the same 'good time' you are having right now, before they lost the men they loved and married, and then became mothers who later deliberately orphaned their own children?"
"Leslie, for God's sake where did you learn it?"
cried Mrs. Minturn.
"How can you hit like that?
You make me feel like a--like a----!
Oh Lord!"
"Don't let's talk any more, Mrs. Minturn," suggested Leslie.
"You know what all refined, home-loving people think.
You know society and what it has to offer.
You're making yourself unhappy, while I am helping you, but if some one doesn't stop you, you may lose the love of a good man, the respect of the people worth while, and later of your own children!
See, here is the swamp and this is as close as we can go with the car."
"Is this where you found the flowers for your basket?"
"Yes," said Leslie.
"No snakes, no quicksands?"
"Snakes don't like this kind of moss," answered Leslie; "this is an old lake bed grown up with tamaracks and the bog of a thousand years."
"Looks as if ten thousand might come closer!"
"Where you ever in such a place?"
asked Leslie.
"Never!"
said Mrs. Minturn.
"Well to do this to perfection," said Leslie, "we should go far enough for you to see the home life of our rarest wild flowers and to get the music full effect.
We must look for a high place to spread this waterproof sheet I have brought along, then nestle down and keep still.
The birds will see us going in, but if we make ourselves inconspicuous, they will soon forget us.
Have you the score?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Minturn.
"Go ahead!"
Leslie had not expected Mrs. Minturn's calm tones and placid acceptance of the swamp.
The girl sent one searching look the woman's way, then came enlightenment.
This was a stunt.
Mrs. Minturn had been doing stunts in the hope of new sensations all her life.
What others could do, she could, if she chose; in this instance she chose to penetrate a tamarack swamp at six o'clock in the morning, to listen to the notes of a bird.
"I'll select the highest places and go as nearly where we were as I can," said Leslie.
"If you step in my tracks you'll be all right."
"Why, you're not afraid, are you?"
asked Mrs. Minturn.
"Not in the least," said Leslie.
"Are you?"
"No!"
said Mrs. Minturn.
"One strikes almost everything motoring through the country, in the mountains or at sea, and travelling.
This looks interesting.
How deep could one sink anyway?"
"Deeply enough to satisfy you," laughed Leslie.
"Come quietly now!"
Grasping the score she carried, Mrs. Minturn unconcernedly plunged after Leslie.
Purposely the girl went slowly, stooping beneath branches, skirting too wet places, slipping over the high hummocks, turning to indicate by gesture a moss bed, a flower, or glancing upward to try to catch a glimpse of some entrancing musician.
Once Leslie turned to look back and saw Mrs. Minturn on her knees separating the silvery green moss heads and thrusting her hand deeply to learn the length of the roots.
She noticed the lady's absorbed face, and the wet patches spreading around her knees.
Leslie fancied she could see Mrs. Minturn entering the next gathering of her friends, smiling faintly and crying: "Dear people, I've had a perfectly new experience!"
She could hear every tone of Mrs. Minturn's voice saying: "Ferns as luxuriant as anything in Florida!
Moss beds several feet deep.
A hundred birds singing, and all before sunrise, my dears!"
When Mrs. Minturn arose Leslie went forward slowly until she reached the moccasin flowers, but remembering, she did not stop.
The woman did.
She stooped and Leslie winced as she snapped one to examine it critically.
She held it up in the gray light, turning it.
"Did you ever see--little Elizabeth?"
she asked.
"Yes," said Leslie.
"Do you think----?"
She stopped abruptly.
"That one is too deep," said Leslie.
"The colour he saw was on a freshly opened one like that."
She pointed to a paler moccasin of exquisite pink with red lavender veining.
Mrs. Minturn assented.
"He can't forget anything," she said, "or let any one else.
He always will keep harping."
"We were peculiarly unfortunate that day," said Leslie.
"He really had no intention of saying anything, if he hadn't been forced."
"Oh he doesn't require forcing," said Mrs. Minturn.
"He's always at the overflow point about her."
"Perhaps he was very fond of her," suggested Leslie.
"He was perfectly foolish about her," said Mrs. Minturn impatiently.
"I lost a nurse or two through his interference.
When I got such a treasure as Lucette I just told her to take complete charge, make him attend his own affairs, and not try being a nursery maid.
It really isn't done these days!"
Leslie closed her lips, moving forward until she reached the space where the ragged boys and the fringed girls floated their white banners, where lacy yellow and lavender blooms caressed each other, there on the highest place she could select, across a moss-covered log, she spread the waterproof sheet, and seating herself, motioned Mrs. Minturn to do the same.
She reached for the music and opening it ran over the score.
Her finger paused on the notes she had whistled, while with eager face she sat waiting.
Mrs. Minturn dropped into an attitude of tense listening.
The sun began dissipating the gray mists and heightening the exquisite tints on all sides.
Every green imaginable was there from palest silver to the deepest, darkest shades; all dew wet, rankly growing, gold tinted and showing clearer each minute.
Gradually Mrs. Minturn relaxed, made herself comfortable as possible, then turned to the orchids of the open space.
The colour flushed and faded on her tired face, she nervously rolled the moccasin stem in her fingers, or looked long at the delicate flower.
She was thinking so intently that Leslie saw she was neither seeing the swamp, nor hearing the birds.
It was then that a little gray singer straying through the tamaracks sent a wireless to his mate in the bushes of borderland, in which he wished to convey to her all there was in his heart about the wonders of spring, the joy of mating, the love of her, and their nest.
He waited a second, then tucking his tail, swelled his throat, and made sure he had done his best.
At the first measure, Leslie thrust the sheet before Mrs. Minturn, pointing to the place.
Instantly the woman scanned the score, then leaned forward listening.
As the bird flew, Leslie faced Mrs. Minturn with questioning eyes.
She cried softly: "He did it!
Perfectly!
If I hadn't heard I never would have believed."
"There is another that can do this from Verdi's _Traviata_."
Leslie whistled the notes.
"We may hear him also."
Again they waited.
Leslie realized that Mrs. Minturn was not listening, and would have to be recalled if the bird sang.
Leslie sat silent.
The same bird sang, and others, but to the girl had come the intuition that Mrs. Minturn was having her hour in the garden, so wisely she remained silent.
After an interminable time she arose, making her way forward as far as she could penetrate and still see the figure of the woman, then hunting an old stump, climbed upon it and did some thinking herself.
At last she returned to the motionless figure.
Mrs. Minturn was leaning against the tamarack's scraggy trunk, her head resting on a branch, lightly sleeping.
A rivulet staining her cheeks from each eye showed where slow tears had slipped from under her closed lids.
Leslie's heart ached with pity.
She thought she never had seen any one seem so sad, so alone, so punished for sins of inheritance and rearing.
She sat beside Mrs. Minturn, waiting until she awakened.
"Why I must have fallen asleep!"
she cried.
"For a minute," said Leslie.
"But I feel as if I had rested soundly a whole night," said Mrs. Minturn.
"I'm so refreshed.
And there goes that bird again.
Verdi to take his notes!
Who ever would have thought of it?
Leslie, did you bring any lunch?
I'm famished."
"We must go back to the car," said Leslie.
They spread the waterproof sheet on the ground where it would be bordered with daintily traced partridge berry, and white-lined plantain leaves, and sitting on it ate their lunch.
Leslie did what she could to interest Mrs. Minturn and cheer her, but at last that lady said: "Thank you dear, you are very good to me; but you can't entertain me to-day.
Some other time we'll come back and bring the scores you suggest, and see what we can really hear from these birds.
But to-day, I've got the battle of my life to fight.
Something is coming; I should be in a measure prepared, and as I don't know what to expect, it takes all the brains I have to figure things out."
"You don't know, Mrs. Minturn?"
asked Leslie.
"No," she said wearily.
"I know James hates the life I lead; he thinks my time wasted.
I know he's a disappointed man, because he thought when he married me he could cut me out of everything worth while in the world, and set me to waiting on him, and nursing his children.
Every single thing I have done since, or wanted or had, has been a disappointment to him.
I know now he never would have married me, if he hadn't figured he was going to make me over; shape me and my life to suit his whims, and throw away my money to please his fancies.
He's been utterly discontented since Elizabeth was born.
Why Leslie, we haven't lived together since then.
He said if I were going to persist in bringing 'orphans' into the world, babies I wouldn't mother myself, or wouldn't allow him to father, there would be no more children.
I
laughed at him, because I didn't think he meant it; but he did, so that ended even a semblance of content.
Half the time I don't know where he is, or what he is doing; he seldom knows where I am; if we appear together it is accidental; I thought I had my mind made up to leave him, and soon; but what you say, coupled with doubts I had myself, have set me to thinking, till I don't know.
I hate a scandal.
You know how careful I always have been.
All my closest friends have jeered me for a prude; there isn't a flaw he can find, there has been none!"
"Certainly not," said Leslie.
"Every one knows that."
"Leslie, you don't know, do you?"
asked Mrs. Minturn.
"He didn't say anything to Bruce, did he?"
"You want an honest answer?"
questioned Leslie.
"Of course I do!"
cried Mrs. Minturn.
"Douglas did tell me in connection with Mr. Minturn joining the Brotherhood and taking a gamin from the streets into his office, that he said he was scarcely allowed to see his own sons, not to exercise the slightest control, so he was going to try his theories on a Little Brother.
But Douglas wouldn't mention it, only to me, and of course I wouldn't repeat it to any one.
Mr. Minturn seemed to feel that Douglas thought it peculiar for a man having sons, to take so much pains with a newsboy; they're great friends, so he said that much to Bruce."
"'He said that much----'" scoffed Mrs. Minturn.
"Well, even so, that is very little compared with what you've said about him to me," retorted Leslie.
"You shouldn't complain on that score."
"I suppose, in your eyes, I shouldn't complain about anything," said Mrs. Minturn.
"A world of things, Mrs. Minturn, but not the ones you do," said Leslie.
"Oh!"
cried Mrs. Minturn.
"I think your grievance is that you were born in, and reared for, society," said Leslie, "and in your extremity it has failed you.
I
believe I can give you more help to-day than any woman of your age and intimate association."
"That's true Leslie, quite true!"
exclaimed Mrs. Minturn eagerly.
"And I need help!
Oh I do!"
"You poor soul, you!"
comforted Leslie.
"Turn where you belong!
Turn to your own blood!"
"My mother would jeer me for a weakling," said Mrs. Minturn.
"She has urged me to divorce James, ever since Elizabeth was born."
"I didn't mean your mother," said Leslie.
"I meant closer relatives, I meant your husband and sons."
"My husband would probably tell me he had lost all respect for me, while my sons would very likely pull my hair and kick my shins if I knelt to them for sympathy," said Mrs. Minturn.
"They are perfect little animals."
"Oh Mrs. Minturn!"
cried Leslie amazed.
"Then you simply must take them in charge and save them; they are so fine looking, while you're their mother, you are!"
"It means giving up life as I have known it always, just about everything!"
said Mrs. Minturn.
"Look at yourself now!"
said Leslie.
"I should think you would be glad to give up your present state."
"Leslie, do you think it wrong to gather those orchids?"
"I think it unpardonable sin to _exterminate_ them," answered Leslie.
"If you have any reason for wanting a few, and merely gather the flowers, leaving the roots to spread and bloom another year, I should say take them."
"Will you wait in the car until I go back?"
she asked.
"But I wish to be alone," said Mrs. Minturn.
"You're not afraid?
You won't become lost?"
"I am not afraid, and I will not lose myself," said Mrs. Minturn.
"Must I hurry?"
"Take all the time you want," said Leslie.
It was mid-afternoon when she returned, her hands filled with a dripping moss ball in which she had embedded the stems of a mass of feathery pink-fringed orchids.
Her face was flushed with tears, but her eyes were bright, her step quick and alert.
"Leslie, what do you think I am going to do?"
she cried.
Then without awaiting a reply: "I'm going to ask James to go with me to take these to Elizabeth, to beg him to forgive my neglect of her; to pledge the rest of my life to him and the boys."
Leslie caught Mrs. Minturn in her arms.
"Oh you darling!"
she exulted.
"Oh you brave, wonderful girl!"
"After all, it's no more than fair," Mrs. Minturn said.
"I have had everything my way since we were married.
And I did love James.
He's the only man I have ever really wanted.
Leslie, he will forgive me and start over, won't he?"
"He'll be at your feet!"
cried Leslie.
"Fortunately, I have decided to be at his," said Mrs. Minturn.
"I've reached the place where I will even wipe James Jr.' s nose and dress Malcolm, and fix James' studs if it will help me to sleep, and have only a tinge of what you seem to be running over with.
Leslie, you are the most joyous soul!"
"You see, I never had to think about myself," said Leslie.
"Daddy always thought for me, so there was nothing left for me to spend my time and thought on but him.
It was a beautiful arrangement."
"Leslie, this is your car, but won't you dear, drive fast!"
begged Mrs. Minturn.
"Of course Nellie!"
exclaimed the girl.
"Leslie, will you stand by me, and show me the way, all you can?"
asked Mrs. Minturn anxiously.
"I'll lose every friend I have got; my house must be torn down and built up from the basement on a new system, as to management; and I haven't an idea _how_ to do it.
Oh, I hope James can help me."
"You may be sure James will know and can help you," comforted Leslie.
"You'll be leaving for the seashore in a few days; install a complete new retinue, and begin all fresh.
Half the servants you keep, really interested in their work, would make you far more comfortable than you are now."
"Yes, I think that too!"
agreed Mrs. Minturn eagerly.
"Some way I feel as if I were turning against Lucette.
I never want to see her again, after I tell her to go; not that I know what I shall do without her.
The boys will probably burn down the house, and where I'll find a woman who will tolerate them, I don't know."
"Employ a man until you get control," suggested Leslie.
"They are both old enough; hire a man, and explain all you want to him.
They'd be afraid of a man."
"Afraid!"
cried Mrs. Minturn.
"They are afraid of Lucette!
I can't understand it.
I wonder if James----" "Poor James!"
laughed Leslie.
"Honestly Nellie, don't impose too much of your--your work on him.
Undertake it yourself.
Show him what a woman you are."
"Great Heavens, Leslie, you don't know what you are saying!"
cried Mrs. Minturn.
"My only hope lies in deceiving him.
If I showed him the woman I am, as I saw myself back there in that swamp an hour ago, he'd take one look, and strangle me for the public good."
"How ridiculous!"
exclaimed Leslie.
"Why must a woman always rush from one extreme to the other?
Choose a middle course and keep it."
"That's what I am telling you I must do," said Mrs. Minturn.
"Leslie, it is wonderful how I feel.
I'm almost flying.
Do you honestly think it is possible that there is going to be something new, something interesting, something really worth while in the world for me?"
"I know it," said Leslie.
"Such interest, such novelty, such joy as you never have experienced!"
With that hope in her heart, her eyes filled with excitement, Nellie Minturn rang her bell, ran past her footman and hurried up the stairs.
She laid her flowers on a table, summoned her maid, then began throwing off her hat and outer clothing.
"Do you know if Mr. Minturn is here?"
"Yes.
He----" began the maid.
"Never mind what 'he.'
Get out the prettiest, simplest dress I own, and the most becoming," she ordered.
"Be quick!
Can't you see I'm in a hurry?"
"Mrs. Minturn, I think you will thank me for telling you there is an awful row in the library," said the maid.
"'An awful row?'
" Mrs. Minturn paused.
"Yes.
I think they are killing Lucette," explained the maid.
"She's shrieked bloody murder two or three times."
"Who?
What do you mean?"
demanded Mrs. Minturn.
She slipped on the bathrobe she had picked up, and stood holding it together, gazing at the maid.
"Mr. Minturn came with two men.
One was a park policeman we know.
They went into the library and sent for Lucette.
There she goes again!"
"Is there any way I could see, could hear, what is going on, without being seen?"
"There's a door to the den from the back hall, and that leads to the library," suggested the maid.
"Show me!
Help me!"
begged Mrs. Minturn.
As they passed the table the orchids hanging over the edge caught on the trailing robe and started to fall.
Mrs. Minturn paused to push them back, then studied the flowers an instant, and catching up the bunch carried it along.
She closed the den door after her without a sound, and creeping beside the wall, hid behind the door curtain and peeped into the library.
There were two men who evidently were a detective and a policeman.
She saw Lucette backed against the wall, her hands clenched, her eyes wild with fear.
She saw her husband's back, and on the table beside him a little box, open, its wrappings near, its contents terrifying to the woman.
"To sum up then," said Mr. Minturn in tones she never before had heard: "I can put on oath this man, who will be forced to tell what he witnessed or be impeached by others who saw it at the same time, and _are ready to testify to what he said;_ I can produce the boy who came to tell me the part he took in it; I have the affidavit and have just come from the woman who interfered and followed you here in an effort to save Elizabeth; I have this piece of work in my hands, done by one of the greatest scientists and two of the best surgeons living.
Although you shrink from it, I take pleasure in showing it to you.
This ragged seam is an impress of the crack you made in a tiny skull lying in a vault out at Forest Hill."
He paused, holding a plaster cast before the woman.
