"I do not think," said she, "that anybody would be apt to interfere with Margaret."Viola Longstreet laughed, the ringing peal of a child, although she was as old as Miss Carew. "Ithink you are right, Jane," said she. "I don't be-lieve a crook in New York would dare face that maid of yours. He would as soon encounter Ply-mouth Rock. I am glad you have brought your de-lightful old jewels, although you never wear any-thing except those lovely old pearl sprays and dull diamonds.""Now," stated Jane, with a little toss of pride, "I have Aunt Felicia's amethysts.""Oh, sure enough! I remember you did write me last summer that she had died and you had the amethysts at last. She must have been very old.""Ninety-one."
"She might have given you the amethysts before.
You, of course, will wear them; and I -- am going to borrow the corals!"Jane Carew gasped.
"You do not object, do you, dear? I have a new dinner-gown which clamors for corals, and my bank-account is strained, and I could buy none equal to those of yours, anyway.""Oh, I do not object," said Jane Carew; still she looked aghast.
Viola Longstreet shrieked with laughter. "Oh, I know. You think the corals too young for me.
You have not worn them since you left off dotted muslin. My dear, you insisted upon growing old -- I insisted upon remaining young. I had two new dotted muslins last summer. As for corals, Iwould wear them in the face of an opposing army!
Do not judge me by yourself, dear. You laid hold of Age and held him, although you had your com-plexion and your shape and hair. As for me, I had my complexion and kept it. I also had my hair and kept it. My shape has been a struggle, but it was worth while. I, my dear, have held Youth so tight that he has almost choked to death, but held him I have. You cannot deny it. Look at me, Jane Carew, and tell me if, judging by my looks, you can reasonably state that I have no longer the right to wear corals."Jane Carew looked. She smiled the Carew smile.
"You DO look very young, Viola," said Jane, "but you are not.""Jane Carew," said Viola, "I am young. May I wear your corals at my dinner to-morrow night?""Why, of course, if you think --"
"If I think them suitable. My dear, if there were on this earth ornaments more suitable to ex-treme youth than corals, I would borrow them if you owned them, but, failing that, the corals will answer.
Wait until you see me in that taupe dinner-gown and the corals!"Jane waited. She visited with Viola, whom she loved, although they had little in common, partly because of leading widely different lives, partly be-cause of constitutional variations. She was dressed for dinner fully an hour before it was necessary, and she sat in the library reading when Viola swept in.
Viola was really entrancing. It was a pity that Jane Carew had such an unswerving eye for the essential truth that it could not be appeased by actual effect. Viola had doubtless, as she had said, struggled to keep her slim shape, but she had kept it, and, what was more, kept it without evidence of struggle. If she was in the least hampered by tight lacing and length of undergarment, she gave no evidence of it as she curled herself up in a big chair and (Jane wondered how she could bring her-self to do it) crossed her legs, revealing one delicate foot and ankle, silk-stockinged with taupe, and shod with a coral satin slipper with a silver heel and a great silver buckle. On Viola's fair round neck the Carew corals lay bloomingly; her beautiful arms were clasped with them; a great coral brooch with wonderful carving confined a graceful fold of the taupe over one hip, a coral comb surmounted the shining waves of Viola's hair. Viola was an ash-blonde, her complexion was as roses, and the corals were ideal for her. As Jane regarded her friend's beauty, however, the fact that Viola was not young, that she was as old as herself, hid it and overshad-owed it.
"Well, Jane, don't you think I look well in the corals, after all?" asked Viola, and there was some-thing pitiful in her voice.
When a man or a woman holds fast to youth, even if successfully, there is something of the pitiful and the tragic involved. It is the everlasting struggle of the soul to retain the joy of earth, whose fleeting distinguishes it from heaven, and whose retention is not accomplished without an inner knowledge of its futility.
"I suppose you do, Viola," replied Jane Carew, with the inflexibility of fate, "but I really think that only very young girls ought to wear corals."Viola laughed, but the laugh had a minor cadence.
"But I AM a young girl, Jane," she said. "I MUSTbe a young girl. I never had any girlhood when Ishould have had. You know that."
Viola had married, when very young, a man old enough to be her father, and her wedded life had been a sad affair, to which, however, she seldom alluded.
Viola had much pride with regard to the inevitable past.
"Yes," agreed Jane. Then she added, feeling that more might be expected, "Of course I suppose that marrying so very young does make a difference.""Yes," said Viola, "it does. In fact, it makes of one's girlhood an anti-climax, of which many dis-pute the wisdom, as you do. But have it I will. Jane, your amethysts are beautiful."Jane regarded the clear purple gleam of a stone on her arm. "Yes," she agreed, "Aunt Felicia's ame-thysts have always been considered very beautiful.""And such a full set," said Viola.
"Yes," said Jane. She colored a little, but Viola did not know why. At the last moment Jane had decided not to wear the amethyst comb, because it seemed to her altogether too decorative for a woman of her age, and she was afraid to mention it to Viola.
She was sure that Viola would laugh at her and in-sist upon her wearing it.
"The ear-rings are lovely," said Viola. "My dear, I don't see how you ever consented to have your ears pierced.""I was very young, and my mother wished me to," replied Jane, blushing.
