“I don’t want to go to Europe,” she said warily. “We were over there only three years ago. I’d rather stay over here this winter and see what’s going on in New York.”
“But this trip will be so delightful, Suzanne,” her mother insisted. “The Camerons are to be at Callendar in Scotland for the fall. They have taken a cottage there. I had a note from Louise, Tuesday. I thought we might run up there and see them and then go to the Isle of Wight.”
“I don’t care to go, mama,” replied Suzanne determinedly. “We’re settled here comfortably. Why do you always want to be running off somewhere?”
“Why, I’m not running—how you talk, Suzanne! I never heard you object very much to going anywhere before. I should think Egypt and the Riviera would interest you very much. You haven’t been to either of these places.”
“I know they’re delightful, but I don’t care to go this fall. I’d rather stay here. Why should you suddenly decide that you want to go away for a year?”
“I haven’t suddenly decided,” insisted her mother. “I’ve been thinking of it for some time, as you know. Haven’t I said that we would spend a winter in Europe soon? The last time I mentioned it, you were very keen for it.”
“Oh, I know, mama, but that was nearly a year ago. I don’t want to go now. I would rather stay here.”
“Why would you? More of your friends go away than remain. I think a particularly large number of them are going this winter.”
“Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho!” laughed Suzanne. “A particularly large number. How you exaggerate, mama, when you want anything. You always amuse me. It’s a particularly large number now, just because you want to go,” and she laughed again.
Suzanne’s defiance irritated her mother. Why should she suddenly take this notion to stay here? It must be this group of girls she was in with, and yet, Suzanne appeared to have so few intimate girl friends. The Almerdings were not going to stay in town all the winter. They were here now because of a fire at their country place, but it would only be for a little while. Neither were the TenEycks. It couldn’t be that Suzanne was interested in some man. The only person she cared much about was Eugene Witla, and he was married and only friendly in a brotherly, guardian-like way.
“Now, Suzanne,” she said determinedly, “I’m not going to have you talk nonsense. This trip will be a delightful thing for you once you have started. It’s useless for you to let a silly notion like not wanting to go stand in your way. You are just at the time when you ought to travel. Now you had better begin to prepare yourself, for we’re going.”
“Oh, no, I’m not, mama,” said Suzanne. “Why, you talk as though I were a very little girl. I don’t want to go this fall and I’m not going. You may go if you want to, but I’m not going.”
“Why, Suzanne Dale!” exclaimed her mother. “Whatever has come over you? Of course you’ll go. Where would you stay if I went? Do you think I would walk off and leave you? Have I ever before?”
“You did when I was at boarding school,” interrupted Suzanne.
“That was a different matter. Then you were under proper supervision. Mrs. Hill was answerable to me for your care. Here you would be alone. What do you think I would be doing?”
“There you go, mama, talking as though I was a little girl again. Will you please remember that I am nearly nineteen? I know how to look after myself. Besides, there are plenty of people with whom I might stay if I chose.”
“Suzanne Dale, you talk like one possessed. I’ll listen to nothing of the sort. You are my daughter, and as such, subject to my guardianship. Of what are you thinking? What have you been reading? There’s some silly thing at the bottom of all this. I’ll not go away and leave you and you will come with me. I should think that after all these years of devotion on my part, you would take my feelings into consideration. How can you stand there and argue with me in this way?”
“Arguing, mama?” asked Suzanne loftily. “I’m not arguing. I’m just not going. I have my reasons for not wanting to go, and I’m not going, that’s all! Now you may go if you want to.”
Mrs. Dale looked into Suzanne’s eyes and saw for the first time a gleam of real defiance in them. What had brought this about? Why was her daughter so set—of a sudden, so stubborn and hard? Fear, anger, astonishment, mingled equally in her feelings.
“What do you mean by reasons?” asked her mother. “What reasons have you?”
“A very good one,” said Suzanne quietly, twisting it to the singular.
“Well, what is it then, pray?”
Suzanne debated swiftly and yet a little vaguely in her own mind. She had hoped for a longer process of philosophic discussion in which to entrap her mother into some moral and intellectual position from which she could not well recede, and by reason of which she would have to grant her the license she desired. From one remark and another dropped in this and the preceding conversation, she realized that her mother had no logical arrangement in her mind whereby she included her in her philosophical calculations at all. She might favor any and every theory and conclusion under the sun, but it would mean nothing in connection with Suzanne. The only thing that remained, therefore, was to defy her, or run away, and Suzanne did not want to do the latter. She was of age. She could adjust her own affairs. She had money. Her mental point of view was as good and sound as her mother’s. As a matter of fact, the latter’s attitude, in view of Suzanne’s recent experience and feelings, seemed weak and futile. What did her mother know of life any more than she? They were both in the world, and Suzanne felt herself to be the stronger—the sounder of the two. Why not tell her now and defy her. She would win. She must. She could dominate her mother, and this was the time to do it.
“Because I want to stay near the man I love,” she finally volunteered quietly.
Mrs. Dale’s hand, which had been elevated to a position of gesticulation before her, dropped limp, involuntarily, to her side. Her mouth opened the least bit. She stared in a surprised, anguished, semi-foolish way.
“The man you love, Suzanne?” she asked, swept completely from her moorings, and lost upon a boundless sea. “Who is he?”
“Mr. Witla, mama—Eugene. I love him and he loves me. Don’t stare, mama. Mrs. Witla knows. She is willing that we should have each other. We love each other. I am going to stay here where I can be near him. He needs me.”
“Eugene Witla!” exclaimed her mother, breathless, a look of horror in her eyes, cold fright in her tense hands. “You love Eugene Witla? a married man! He loves you! Are you talking to me? Eugene Witla!! You love him! Why I can’t believe this. I’m not in my right mind. Suzanne Dale, don’t stand there! Don’t look at me like that! Are you telling me, your mother? Tell me it isn’t so! Tell me it isn’t so before you drive me mad! Oh, great Heavens, what am I coming to? What have I done? Eugene Witla of all men! Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!”
“Why do you carry on so, mama?” asked Suzanne calmly. She had expected some such scene as this—not quite so intense, so hysterical, but something like it, and was, in a way, prepared for it. A selfish love was her animating, governing impulse—a love also that stilled self, and put aside as nothing all the world and its rules. Suzanne really did not know what she was doing. She was hypnotized by the sense of perfection in her lover, the beauty of their love. Not practical facts but the beauty of the summer, the feel of cool winds, the glory of skies and sunlight and moonlight, were in her mind. Eugene’s arms about her, his lips to hers, meant more than all the world beside. “I love him. Of course, I love him. What is there so strange about that?”
“What is strange? Are you in your right mind? Oh, my poor, dear little girl! My Suzanne! Oh, that villain! That scoundrel! To come into my house and make love to you, my darling child! How should you know? How could I expect you to understand? Oh, Suzanne! for my sake, for the love of Heaven, hush! Never breathe it! Never say that terrible thing to me again! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!!! That I should live to see this! My child! My Suzanne! My lovely, beautiful Suzanne! I shall die unless I can stop this! I shall die! I shall die!”