my mind. Jack was going to the war because he was unhappy over my
marriage. He had not said so, of course, in the letter which he knew
my husband must read, but I knew it. The remembrance of his face,
his voice, when I told him of my marriage was enough. I did not need
written words to know that perhaps I was sending him to his death!
I glanced at the clock--11:15. Only three-quarters of an hour till
the train which was bringing my mother-in-law to our home was due! She
would be in the house within three-quarters of an hour! Would I have
time to dress, go after the flowers and cream we needed for luncheon
and be back in time to welcome her?
Common sense whispered to omit the flowers, and send Katie for the
cream. But one of my faults or virtues--I never have been able to
decide which--is the persistence with which I stick to a plan, once
I have decided upon it. I made up my mind to take a chance on getting
back in time.
I made my purchases and on my way back I stepped into the corner drug
store and telephoned Jack. He would not hear of my seeing him sail,
and he would not promise to write me. Then there was a long silence. I
wondered what he was debating with himself.
"I am going to let you in on a little secret," he said at last. "I
have provided myself with the means of knowing how you fare, and I
suppose I ought to let you have the same privilege. You know Mrs.
Stewart, who keeps the boarding house where you and your mother lived
so many years?"
"Oh, yes."
"Well, she and I are going to correspond. Now, understand, Margaret,
I am going to send no messages to you. I want none from you. Remember,
you are married. Your husband objects to your friendship with me. I
will do nothing underhand. But if anything happens to you I shall know
it through Mrs. Stewart, and she will always know where I am and what
I am doing."
"That is some comfort," I returned earnestly. "What time does the
Saturn sail tomorrow?"
"At 10 o'clock. But, Madge, you must not come."
"I know," I returned meekly enough, although a daring plan was just
beginning to creep into my brain. "And I will say good-by now, Jack.
Good-by, dear boy, and good luck."
My voice was trembling, and there was a tremor in the deep voice that
answered.
"Good-by, dear little girl. God bless and keep you." The next moment I
was stumbling out of the booth with just one thought, to get home
and bathe my eyes and pull myself together before the arrival of my
mother-in-law.
I was just outside the drug store, and had realized that I'd left
my purchases in the telephone booth, when I heard my name called
excitedly.
From the window of a taxicab Dicky was gesturing wildly, while beside
him a stately woman sat with a bored look upon her face.
My mother-in-law had arrived!
"Madge! What under the heavens is the matter?"
Dicky sprang out of the taxicab, which had drawn up before the door of
the drug store, and seized my arm.
"Nothing is the matter," I said shortly. "I went out to get some cream
for Katie's pudding and some flowers. I stopped here in the drug store
to get some of my headache tablets, and left the flowers and cream.
Some dust blew in my eyes. I suppose that's what makes you think I
have been crying."
"That's you, all over," Dicky grumbled. "Risk not being at home to
greet mother in order to have a few flowers stuck around. Here, come
on and meet mother, and I'll go in and get your flowers." He took my
arm and made a step toward the taxicab.
"No, no," I said hastily. "I know exactly where I left them. I won't
be a minute."
Luckily the flowers and cream were where I had left them. I detest the
idea of arranging any part of one's toilet in public, but I did not
want the critical eyes of Dicky's mother to see my reddened eyes, and
roughened hair, which had been slightly loosened in my hurry.
There was a mirror near the telephone booth at the back of the store.
I took off my fur cap, smoothed back my hair and put on the cap again.
From my purse I took a tiny powder puff and removed the traces of
tears. Then I fairly snatched my parcels and hurried to the door.
Dicky was just entering the store as I reached it. His face was black.
I saw that he was in one of his rages.
"Look here, Madge," he said, and he made no pretense of lowering his
voice, "do you think my mother enjoys sitting there in that taxicab
waiting for you? She was so fatigued by her journey that she didn't
even want to have her baggage looked after, something unusual for her.
That is the reason we got here so early. And now she is positively
faint for a cup of tea, and you are fiddling around here over a lot of
flowers."
If he had made no reference to his mother's faintness, I should have
answered him spiritedly. But I remembered my own little mother, and
her longing when fatigued for a cup of hot tea.
"I'm awfully sorry, Dicky," I said meekly. "You see you arrived before
I thought you would. I'll get the tea for her the moment we reach the
house."
But Dicky was not mollified. He stalked moodily ahead of me until
he reached the open door of the taxicab. Then his manner underwent a
sudden change. One would have thought him the most devoted of husbands
to see him draw me forward.
"Mother," he said, and my heart glowed even in its resentment at the
note of pride in his voice, "this is my wife. Madge, my mother."
Mrs. Graham was leaning back against the cushions of the taxicab. If
she had not looked so white and ill I should have resented the look of
displeasure that rested upon her features.
"How do you do?" she said coldly. "You must pardon me, I am afraid, for
not saying the usual things. I have been very much upset."
The studied insolence of the apology was infinitely worse than the
coldness of her manner. I waited for a moment to control myself before
answering her.
"I am afraid that you are really ill," I said as cordially as I could.
"I am so sorry to have kept you waiting, but I did not expect you
quite so soon, and I had some errands."
"It doesn't matter," she said indifferently. Her manner put me aside
from her consideration as if I had been a child or a servant. She
turned to Dicky.
"Are we almost there, dear?"
The warmth of her tones to him, the love displayed in every
inflection, set out in more bitter contrast the coldness with which
she was treating me.
"Right here now," as the taxi drew up to the door of the apartment
house. There was a peculiar inflection in Dicky's voice. I stole a
glance at him. He was gazing at his mother with a puzzled look. I
fancied I saw also a trace of displeasure. But it vanished in another
minute as he sprang to the ground, paid the driver and helped his
mother and me out.
She leaned heavily on his arm as we went up the stairs to the third
floor upon which our apartment was.
At the door, Katie, who evidently had heard the taxicab, stood smiling
broadly.
"This is Katie, mother," Dicky said kindly. "She will help take care
of you."
"How do you do, Katie?" The words were the same, but the tones were
much kinder than her greeting to me.
Dicky assisted her into the living room. She sank into the armchair,
and Dicky took off her hat and loosened her cloak. She leaned her head
against the back of the chair, and her face looked so drawn and white
that I felt alarmed.
"Katie, prepare a cup of strong tea immediately," I directed, and
Katie vanished. "Is there nothing I can do for you, Mrs. Graham?" I
approached her chair.
"Nothing, thank you. You may save the maid the trouble of preparing
that tea if you will. I could not possibly drink it. I always carry my
own tea with me, and prepare it myself. If it is not too much trouble,
Dicky, will you get me a pot of hot water and some cream? I have
everything else here."
I really felt sorry for Dicky. He caught the tension in the
atmosphere, and looked from his mother to me with a helpless
caught-between-two-fires-expression. With masculine obtuseness he put
his foot in it in his endeavor to remedy matters.
"Why do you call my mother Mrs. Graham, Madge?" he said querulously.
"She is your mother now as well as mine, you know."
"I am nothing of the kind." His mother spoke sharply. "Of all the
idiotic assumptions, that is the worst, that marriage makes close
relatives, and friends of total strangers. Your wife and I may learn
to love each other. Then there will be plenty of time for her to call
me mother. As it is, I am very glad she evidently feels as I do about
it. Now, Dicky, if you will kindly get me that hot water."
"I will attend to it," I said decidedly "Dicky, take your mother to
her room and assist her with her things. I will have the hot water and
cream for her almost at once."
In the shelter of the dining room, where neither Dicky nor his mother
nor Katie could see or hear me, I clenched my hands and spoke aloud.
"Call _her_ mother! Give that ill-tempered, tyrannical old woman the
sacred name that means so much to me. _Never_ as long as I live!"
Dicky met me at the door of the dining room and took the tray I
carried. It held my prettiest teapot filled with boiling water, a tiny
plate of salted crackers, together with cup, saucer, spoon and napkin.
"Say, sweetheart," he whispered, "I want to tell you something. My
mother isn't always like this. She can be very sweet when she wants
to. But when things don't go to suit her she takes these awful icy
'dignity' tantrums, and you can't touch her with a ten-foot pole until
she gets over them. She was tired, from the journey, and the fact that
you kept her waiting in the taxicab made her furious. But she'll get
over it. Just be patient, won't you, darling?"
If the average husband only realized how he could play upon his wife's
heart-strings with a few loving words I believe there would be less
marital unhappiness in the world. A few minutes before I had been
fiercely resentful against Dicky's mother. And my anger had reached
to Dicky, for I felt in some vague way that he must be responsible for
his mother's rudeness.
But the knowledge that he, too, was used to her injustice and that he
resented it when directed against me made all the difference in the
world. I reached up my hand and patted his cheek.
"Dear boy, nothing in the world matters, if _you_ aren't cross and
displeased."
XIV
A QUARREL AND A CRISIS
"Can you give me a few minutes' time, Dicky? I have something to tell
you."
Dicky put down the magazine with a bored air. "What is it?" he asked
shortly.
Involuntarily my thoughts flew back to the exquisite courtesy which
had always been Dicky's in the days before we were married. There
had been such a delicate reverence in his every tone and action. I
wondered if marriage changed all men as it had changed my husband.
I went to my room and brought the letter back to Dicky. He read it
through, and I saw his face grow blacker with each word. When he came
to the signature, he turned back to the beginning and read the epistle
through again. Then he crumpled it into a ball and threw it violently
across the room.
"See here, my lady," he exploded. "I think it's about time we came to
a show-down over this business. When I found that first letter from
this lad, I asked you if he were a relative, and you said 'No.' Then
you hand me this touching screed with its 'nearest of kin' twaddle,
and speaking of leaving you a fortune. Now what's the answer?"
"Oh, hardly a fortune, Dicky," I returned quietly. "Jack has only a
few thousand at the outside."
I fear I was purposely provoking, but Dicky's sneering, insulting
manner roused every bit of spirit in me.
"A few thousand you'll never touch as long as you are my wife,"
stormed Dicky. "But you are evading my question."
"Oh, no, I'm not," I said coolly. "That real relationship between Jack
and myself is so slight as to be practically nothing. He is the son of
a distant cousin of my mother's. Perhaps you remember that on the day
you made the scene about the letter you had just emphasized your very
close friendship for Mrs. Underwood in a fashion rather embarrassing
to me. I resolved that, to speak vulgarly, 'what was sauce for the
gander,' etc., and that I would put my friendship for Jack upon the
same basis as yours for Mrs. Underwood. So when you asked me whether
or not Jack was a relative I said 'No.'"
"That makes this letter an insult both to you and to me," Dicky said
venomously, his face black with anger.
I sprang to my feet, trembling with anger.
"Be careful," I said icily. "You don't deserve an explanation, but you
shall have one, and that is the last word I shall ever speak to you
on the subject of Jack. His letter is the truth. I am his 'nearest
of kin,' save the cousins in Pennsylvania of whom he speaks. He was
orphaned in his babyhood and my mother's only sister legally adopted
him, and reared him as her own son. We were practically raised
together, for my mother and my aunt always lived near each other. Jack
was the only brother I ever knew. I the only sister he had.
"When my aunt died she left him her little property with the
understanding that he would always look after my mother and myself.
He kept his promise royally. My mother and I owed him many, many
kindnesses. God forbid that I ever am given the opportunity to claim
Jack's property. But if he should be killed"--I choked upon the
word--"I shall take it and try to use it wisely, as he would have me
do."
"Very touching, upon my word," sneered Dicky, "and very
interesting--if true." He almost spat the words out, he was so angry.
"It does not matter to me in the least whether you believe it or not,"
I returned frigidly.
Dicky jumped up with an oath. "I know it doesn't matter to you.
Nothing is of any consequence to you but this"--he ripped out an
offensive epithet. "If he is so near and dear to you, it's a wonder
you don't want to go over and bid him a fond farewell."
I was fighting to keep back the tears. As soon as I could control my
voice I spoke slowly:
"The reason why I did not go is because I thought you might not like
it. God knows, I wanted to go."
I walked steadily to my room, closed the door and locked it and fell
upon the bed, a sobbing heap.
"Where are you going?" Dicky's voice was fairly a snarl as I faced him
a little later in my street costume.
"I do not know," I replied truthfully and coldly. "I am going out
for the rest of the afternoon. Perhaps you will be able to control
yourself when I return."
It was not the most tactful speech in the world. But I was past caring
whether Dicky were angry or pleased. I am not very quick to wrath, but
when it is once roused my anger is intense.
"You know you are lying," he said loudly. "You are going to see this
precious-cousin-brother-lover, whichever he may be."
My fear that Katie or his mother would hear him overcame the primitive
impulse I had to avenge the insolent words with a blow, as a man
would.
"You will apologize for that language to me when I come back," I said
icily. "I do not know whether I shall go to bid Jack good-by or not. I
have no idea what I shall do, save that I must get away from here for
a little while. But if you have any sense of the ordinary decencies
of life you will lower your voice. I do not suppose you care to have
either your mother or Katie overhear this edifying conversation."
"Much you care about what my mother thinks," Dicky rejoined, and this
time his voice was querulous, but decidedly lower. "Fine courteous
treatment you're giving her, leaving her like this when she has been
in the house but a couple of hours."
"Your mother has shown such eagerness for my society that no doubt she
will be heartbroken if she awakens and finds that I am not here."
"That's right, slam my mother. Why didn't you say in the first place
you couldn't bear to have her in the same house with you?"
"Dicky, you are most unjust," I began hotly, and then stopped
horror-stricken.
"What is the matter, my son?" The incisive voice of my mother-in-law
sounded from the door of her room.
"Go back to bed, mother," Dicky said hastily. "I'm awfully sorry we
disturbed you."
"Disturbing me doesn't matter," she said decidedly, "but what you were
saying does. I heard you mention me, and I naturally wish to know if I
am the subject of this very remarkable conversation."
I know now where Dicky gets the sneering tone which sets me wild when
he directs it against me. His mother's inflection is exactly like her
son's. The contemptuous glance with which she swept me nerved me to
speak to her in a manner which I had never dreamed I would use toward
Dicky's mother.
"Mrs. Graham," I said, raising my head and returning her stare with
a look equally cold and steady, "my husband"--I emphasized the words
slightly--"and I are discussing something which cannot possibly
concern you. You were not the subject of conversation, and your name
was brought in by accident. I hope you will be good enough to allow us
to finish our discussion."
My mother-in-law evidently knows when to stop. She eyed me steadily
for a moment.
"Dicky," she said at last, and her manner of sweeping me out of the
universe was superb, "in five minutes I wish to speak to you in my
room."
"All right, mother." Dicky's tone was unsteady, and as his mother's
door closed behind her I prepared myself to face his increased anger.
"How dared you to speak to my mother in that fashion?" he demanded
hoarsely.
When I am most angry, a diabolically aggravating spirit seems to
possess me. I could feel it enmeshing me.
"Please don't be melodramatic, Dicky," I said mockingly, "and if you
have quite finished, I will go."
"No, you won't, at least not until I have told you something," he
snarled.
He sprang to my side, and seized my shoulder in a cruel grip that made
me wince.
"We'll just have this out once for all," he said. "If you go out of
this door you go out for good. I don't care for the role of complacent
husband."
The insult left me deadly cold. I knew, of course, that Dicky was
so blinded by rage and jealousy that he had no idea of what he was
saying. But ungovernable as I knew his temper to be, he had passed the
limits of my forebearance.
"I will answer that speech in 10 minutes," I said and walked into my
room again.
For I had come to a decision as startling as it was sudden. I hastily
threw some most necessary things into a bag. Then I put a ten-dollar
bill of the housekeeping money into my purse, resolving to send
it back to Dicky as soon as I could get access to my own tiny bank
account, the remnant of my teaching savings. Into a parcel I placed
the rest of the housekeeping money, my wedding and engagement rings
and the lavalliere which Dicky had given me as a wedding present. I
put them in the back of the top drawer of my dressing table, for I
knew if I handed them to Dicky in his present frame of mind he would
destroy them. Then I walked steadily into the living room, bag in
hand.
Dicky was nowhere to be seen, but I heard the murmur of voices in his
mother's room. I went to the door and knocked. Dicky threw it open,
his face still showing the marks of his anger.
"You will find the housekeeping money in the top drawer of my dressing
table," I said calmly. "I will send you my address as soon as I have
one, and you will please have Katie pack up my things and send them to
me."
I turned and went swiftly to the door. As I closed it after me, I
thought I heard Dicky cry out hoarsely. But I did not stop.
XV
"BUT I LOVE YOU"
With my bag in my hand, I fairly fled down the stairs which led from
our third floor apartment to the street. I had no idea where I was
going or what I was going to do. Only one idea possessed me--to put
as much space as possible between me and the apartment which held my
husband and his mother.
Reaching the street, I started to walk along it briskly. But,
trembling as I was from the humiliating scene I had just gone through,
I saw that I could not walk indefinitely, and that I must get to some
place at once where I could be alone and think.
"Taxi, ma'am?"
A taxi whose driver evidently had been watching me in the hope of a
fare rolled up beside me.
I dived into it gratefully. At least in its shelter I would be alone
and safe from observation for a few minutes, long enough for me to
decide what to do next.
"Where to, ma'am?"
I searched my memory wildly for a moment. Where to, indeed! But the
chauffeur waited.
"Brooklyn Bridge," I said desperately.
"Very well, ma'am," and in another minute we were speeding swiftly
southward.
As I cowered against the cushions of the taxi, with burning cheeks and
crushed spirit, I realized that my marriage with Dicky was not a yoke
that I could wear or not as I pleased. It was still on my shoulders,
heavy just now, but a burden that I realized I loved and could not
live without.
And I had thought to end it all when I dashed out of the apartment!
I knew that I could have done nothing else but walk out after Dicky
uttered his humiliating ultimatum. But I also knew Dicky well enough
to realize that when he came to himself he would regret what he had
done and try to find me. I must make it an easy task for him.
So I decided my destination quickly. I would go to my old boarding
place, where my mother and I had lived and where I had first met
Dicky. My kindly old landlady, Mrs. Stewart, was one of my best
friends. Without telling too broad a falsehood, I could make her
believe I had come to spend the night with her. The next day, I hoped,
would solve its own problems.
"This is the bridge entrance, ma'am." The chauffeur's voice broke my
revery. I had made my decision just in time.
How fortunate it was that I had chosen the Brooklyn Bridge
destination! I had only to walk up the stairs to the elevated train
that took me within three squares of Mrs. Stewart's home.
"Bless your heart, child, but I am glad to see you!" was Mrs.
Stewart's hearty greeting. Then she glanced at my bag. I hastened to
explain.
"Mr. Graham's mother is with us, so I haven't any scruples about
leaving him alone," I said lightly. "It's so far over here I thought
I would stay the night with you, so that we could have the good long
visit I promised you when I was here last."
"That's splendid," she agreed heartily, "and I'll wager you can't
guess who's here."
My prophetic soul told me the answer even before I saw the tall figure
emerge from an immense easy chair which had effectually concealed him.
I was to bid Jack good-by after all.
Mrs. Stewart closed the door behind her softly as Jack came over to my
side.
"What is the matter, Margaret?" he said tensely.
"Nothing at all." I told the falsehood gallantly, but it did not
convince Jack.
"You can't make me believe that, Margaret," he said gravely. "I know
you too well. Tell me, have you quarrelled with your husband?"
Jack has played the elder brother role to me for so long that the
habit of obedience to him is second nature to me.
"Yes," I said faintly.
"Over me?" The question was quick and sharp.
I nodded.
"You showed him my letter? Of course, I wished you to do so."
"Yes."
"How serious is the quarrel? I see you have a bag with you."
"It depends upon my husband's attitude how serious it is," I replied.
"He made an issue of my not doing something which I felt I must
do. Then he lost his temper and said things which if they are to be
repeated, will keep me away forever!"
I saw Jack's fists clench, and into his eyes there flashed a queer
light. I knew what it was. Before he knew I was married he had told me
of his long secret love for me. That he was fighting the temptation to
let the breach between Dicky and me widen, I knew as well as if he had
told me.
Another moment, however, and he was master of himself again.
"Sit down," he commanded tersely, and when I had obeyed he drew a
chair close to my side.
"My poor child," he said tenderly, "I know nothing about your husband,
so I cannot judge this quarrel. But I am afraid in this marriage game
you will learn that there must be a lot of giving up on both sides.
Now I know you to be absolutely truthful. Tell me, is there any
possibility that the overtures for a reconciliation ought to come from
you?"
"He told me that if I went out of the door, I must go out of it for
good," I said hotly, and could have bitten my tongue out for the words
the next moment.
Jack drew a long breath.
"Did he think you were going to see me?"
"I believe he had that idea, yes."
"Is he the sort of a man who always says what he means or does he
say outrageous things when he is angry that he does not mean in the
least?"
"He has a most ungovernable temper, but he gets over the attacks
quickly, and I know he doesn't mean all he says."
"That settles it." Jack sprang up, and going to a stand in the corner
took his hat and coat and stick.
"What are you going to do, Jack?" I gasped.
"I am going to find your husband and send him after you," he said
sternly.
"Jack, you mustn't," I said wildly.
"But I must," he returned firmly. "You have quarrelled over me. I
could not cross the water leaving you in an unsettled condition like
this."
He came swiftly to my side, and took my hands firmly in his.