The Avalanche: A Mystery StoryAtherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
General
The Avalanche: A Mystery Story
Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
Detective and mystery stories
"I never know until the last moment when or where I shall be able to take
lunch, and then I often have to meet three or four men. Such is life in
the city of your adoption."
"There is no city in the world where women are so abominably idle and
useless!" And at the moment, whatever Madame Delano may have been, her
voice and mien were those of a virtuous and outraged bourgeoisie. "You
are all very well, Ruyler, but if I had known what the life of a rich
young woman was in this town, I'd have married Helene to a serious young
man of her own class in Rouen; a husband who would have given her
companionship in a normal civilized life, who would have taken care of
her as every young wife should be taken care of, and who would have
insisted upon at least two children as a matter of course. With us The
Family is a religion. Here it is an incident where it is not an
accident."
Ruyler, who was still standing, looked down at his mother-in-law with
profound interest. He had never heard her express herself at such length
before. "Do you think I fail as a husband?" he asked humbly. "God knows
I'd like to give my wife about two-thirds of my time, but at least I have
perfect confidence in her. I should soon cease to care for a wife I was
obliged to watch."
"Young things are young things." Madame Delano looked at Helene, who had
turned very white and had lowered her own lids to hide the consternation
in her eyes. But as her mother ceased speaking she raised them in swift
appeal to Ruyler.
"Maman says I coquette too much," she said plaintively, and Price
wondered if a slight movement under the hem of Madame Delano's long
skirts meant that the toe of a little gray shoe were boring into one of
the massive plinths of his mother-in-law. "But tell him, maman, that you
don't really mean it. I can't have Price jealous. That would be too
humiliating. I'm afraid I do flirt as naturally as I breathe, but Price
knows I haven't a thought for a man on earth but him." The color had
crept back into her cheeks, but there was still anxiety in her soft black
eyes, and Price was sure that the little pointed toe once more made its
peremptory appeal.
Madame Delano looked squarely at her son-in-law.
"That's all right--so far," she said grimly. "Helene is devoted to
you. But so have many other young wives been to busy American husbands.
Now, take my advice, and give her more of your companionship before it
is too late. _Watch over her_. There always comes a time--a
turning-point--European husbands understand, but American husbands are
fools. Woman's loyalty, fed on hope only, turns to resentment; and then
her separate life begins. Now, I've warned you. Go back to your office,
where, no doubt, your clerks are hanging out of the windows, wondering if
you are dead and the business wrecked. I want to talk to Helene."
III
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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