at your service. If I die there will be enough, thank heaven, to make
you independent of any one. If I live--"
He hesitated for a long moment, then stooped closer to me.
"This may be a caddish thing to do, but it is borne in upon me that
I ought to tell you this before I go. I hope the settling of this
quarrel will be the beginning of a happier life for you. But if
things should ever get really unbearable in your life, bad enough for
divorce, I mean, remember that the dearest wish of my life would be
fulfilled if I could call you wife. Good-by, Margaret. God bless and
keep you."
I felt the touch of his lips against my hair.
Then he released me and went quickly out of the room.
It was hard work for me to obey Mrs. Stewart's command to eat the
supper that she soon brought me on a tray. Every nerve was tense in
anticipation of the meeting between Dicky and Jack, which I could not
avoid, and which I so dreaded. What was happening at my home while I
sat here, my hands tied by my own foolish act?
I did not realize that Mrs. Stewart's suspense was also intense until
the door bell rang and she ran to answer it.
I stole to the door and noiselessly opened it just enough to be able
to hear the voices in the lower hall. I heard the hall door open and
then a sound of a voice that sent me back to my chair breathless with
terrified happiness.
Dicky had arrived!
He ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, and knocked at the door of
the room in which I sat.
"Come in," I said faintly.
I felt as if my feet were shod with lead. Much as I loved him, great
as was my joy at seeing him, I could no more have stirred from where I
was sitting than I could have taken wings and flown to him.
There was no need for my moving, however. Dicky has the most
abominable temper of any person I know, but he is as royal in his
repentance as in his rages.
He crossed the room at almost a bound, his eyes shining, his face
aglow, his whole handsome figure vibrant with life and love.
"Sweetheart! sweetheart!" he murmured, as he folded me in his arms,"
will you forgive your bad boy this once more? I have been a jealous,
insulting brute, but I swear to you--"
I put up my hand and covered his lips. I had heard him say something
like this too many times before to have much faith in his oath.
Besides, there is something within me that makes me abhor anything
which savors of a scene. Dicky was mine again, my old, impulsive,
kingly lover. I wanted no promises which I knew would be made only to
be broken.
It was a long time before either of us spoke again, and then Dicky
drew a deep breath.
"I have a confession to make about your cousin, Madge," he began,
carefully avoiding my eyes, "and I might as well get it over with
before we go home. Mother's probably asleep, but she might wake up,
and then there would be no chance for any talk by ourselves."
"Don't tell me anything unless you wish to do so, Dicky," I replied
gently. "I am content to leave things just as they are without
question."
"No," Dicky said stubbornly, "it's due you and it's due your cousin
that I tell you this. I don't often make a bally ass of myself, but
when I do I am about as willing a person to eat dirt about it as you
can find."
I never shall get used to Dicky's expressions. The language in which
he couched his repentance seemed so uncouth to me that I mentally
shivered. Outwardly I made no sign, however.
"When he came to the apartment," Dicky went on, "I was just about as
nearly insane as a man could be. I had no idea where you had gone and
I had just had the devil's own time with my mother and Katie over your
sudden departure."
"What did your mother say to all this?"
I asked the question timorously.
Dicky laughed. "Well! of course she didn't go into raptures over
the affair," he said, "but I think she learned a lesson. At least I
endeavored to help her learn one. I read the riot act to her after you
left."
"Oh! Dicky!" I protested, "that was hardly fair?"
"I know it," he admitted shamefacedly. "I am afraid I did rather take
it out on the mater when I found you had really gone. But she deserved
a good deal of it. You have done everything in your power to make
things pleasant for her since she came, and she has treated you about
as shabbily as was possible."
"Oh! not that bad, Dicky," I protested again, but I knew in my heart
that what he said was true. His mother had treated me most unfairly.
I could not help a little malicious thrill of pleasure that he had
finally resented it for me.
"Just that bad, little Miss Forgiveness," Dicky returned, smiling at
me tenderly.
My heart leaped at the words. When Dicky is in good humor he coins all
sorts of tender names for me. I knew that to Dicky our quarrel was as
if it had never happened.
"I'll give you a pointer about mother, Madge," Dicky went on. "When
you see her, act as if nothing had happened at all, it's the only
way to manage her. She can be most charming when she wants to be,
but every once in a while she takes one of those silent tantrums, and
there is no living with her until she gets over it."
I didn't make any comment on this speech, fearing to say the wrong
thing.
"But I didn't start to tell you about Katie." Dicky switched the
subject determinedly. "I might as well get it off my chest. When your
cousin came in and introduced himself the first thing I did was to
attempt to strike him."
"Oh, Dicky, Dicky," I moaned, horrified, "what did he do?"
Dicky's lips twisted grimly.
"Just put out his hand and caught my arm, saying with that calm and
quiet voice of his:
"'I shall not return any blow you may give me, Mr. Graham, so please
do not do anything you will regret when you recover yourself!'
"I realized his strength of body and the grip he had on my arm and
even my half-crazed brain recognized the power of his spirit. I came
to, apologized, and we had a long talk that made me realize what a
thundering good fellow he must be.
"I don't see why you never fell in love with him," Dicky continued.
"He's a better man than I am," he paraphrased half wistfully.
"But I love YOU," I whispered.
Across Dicky's face there fell a shadow. I realized that thoughtlessly
I had wounded him.
XVI
INTERRUPTED SIGHT-SEEING
"Margaret!" My mother-in-law's tone was almost tragic. "Richard has
gone off with my trunk checks."
"Why, of course, he has," I returned, wondering a little at her
anxious tone. "I suppose he expects to give them to an expressman and
have the trunks brought up this morning."
"Richard never remembered anything in his life," said his mother
tartly. "Those trunks ought to be here before I leave for the day."
"Oh, I don't think it would be possible for them to arrive here before
we have to start, even if Dicky gives them to an expressman right
away, as I am sure he will do."
It seemed queer to be defending Dicky to his mother, but I felt a
curious little thrill of resentment that she should criticise him.
I sometimes may judge Dicky harshly myself, but I don't care to hear
criticism of him from any other lips, even those of his mother.
"Richard will carry those checks in his pocket until he comes home
again, if he is lucky enough not to lose them," said his mother
decidedly. "I wish you would telephone him at his studio and remind
him that they must be looked after."
Obediently I went to the telephone. I knew Dicky had had plenty
of time to get to the studio, as it was but a short walk from our
apartment.
"Madison Square 3694," I said in answer to Central's request for
"number."
When the answer came I almost dropped the receiver in my surprise. It
was not Dicky's voice that came to my ears, but that of a stranger, a
woman's voice, rich and musical.
"Yes?" with a rising inflection, "this is Mr. Graham's studio. He has
not yet reached here. What message shall I give him, please, when he
comes in?"
"Please ask him to call up his home." Then I hung up the receiver and
turned from the telephone, putting down my agitation with a firm hand
until I could be alone.
"Dicky has not yet reached the studio," I said to his mother calmly.
"I think very probably he has gone first to see an expressman about
your trunks. If you will pardon me I have a few things to attend to
before we start on our trip. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, thank you." Mrs. Graham's tone was still the cold, courteous one
that she used in addressing me. "I suppose I can ring for Katie when I
am ready to have my dress fastened?"
"Oh! by all means," I returned. I thought bitterly of the little
services I used to perform for my own mother. How gladly I would
anticipate the wants of Dicky's mother if she would only show me
affection instead of the ill-concealed aversion with which she
regarded me.
My mother-in-law went into her room, and I, walking swiftly to mine,
closed and locked the door behind me. I threw myself face downward on
the bed, my favorite posture when I wished to think things out.
The voice of the woman at the studio haunted me. It was strange, but
familiar, and I could not remember where I had heard it.
What was a woman doing in Dicky's studio at this time in the morning,
anyway? I knew that Dicky employed feminine models, but I also knew
that he always made it a point to be at the studio before the model
was due to arrive.
"I suppose I am an awful crank," he had laughed once, "but no models
rummaging among my things for mine."
I knew that Dicky employed no secretary, or at least he had told me
that he did not I had heard him laughingly promise himself that when
his income reached $10,000 a year he would hire one.
All at once the solution to the mystery dawned upon me. The rich,
musical voice belonged to Grace Draper, the beautiful girl whom Dicky
had seen first on a train on our memorable trip to Marvin.
Why hadn't Dicky told me that she was at the studio? The question
rankled in the back of my brain.
That was not my main concern, however. What swept me with a sudden
primitive emotion, which I know must be jealousy, was the picture
of that beautiful face, that wonderful figure in daily close
companionship with my husband.
Suppose she should fall in love with Dicky! To my mind I did not
see how any woman could help it. Would she have any scruples about
endeavoring to win Dicky's love from me?
My common sense told me that this was the veriest nonsense. But I
could no more help my feelings than I could control the shape of my
nose.
The ring of the telephone bell put a temporary end to my speculations.
I pulled myself together in order to talk calmly to Dicky, for I knew
it must be he who was calling.
"Madge, is this you? Whatever has happened?"
"Nothing is the matter," I said quickly, "but you have your mother's
trunk checks, and she is anxious about them."
"By Jove!" Dicky's voice was full of consternation. "I forgot
everything about those trunk checks until this minute. I should
have attended to them yesterday, but"--he hesitated, then finished
lamely--"I didn't have time."
I felt my face flush as though Dicky could see me. The reason why
he did not have time to see to his mother's trunks on the day of her
arrival, touched a subject any allusion to which would always bring a
flush to my face.
I was still too shaken with the varying emotions I had experienced the
day before to bear well any reference to them, no matter how casual.
Fortunately, Dicky was too much taken up with his own remissness to
notice my silence.
"I'll go out this minute and attend to them," he said. "Try to keep
the mater's mind diverted from them if you can. Better get her away on
your sight-seeing trip as soon as possible."
Having thus shifted his responsibilities to my shoulders, Dicky
blithely hung up the receiver. I turned to his mother.
"Well!" she demanded.
"He is going out now to attend to the trunks," I said.
"There! I knew he had forgotten them," she exclaimed, with a little
malicious feminine triumph running through her tones. "When will they
be here?"
"Not before noon at the earliest," I repeated Dicky's words in as
matter-of-fact way as possible. "Probably not until 2 or 3 o'clock in
the afternoon. We might as well start on our trip. Katie is perfectly
capable of attending to them."
Then she said, "How soon will you be ready?"
"I am afraid it will be half an hour before I can start," I said
apologetically.
"That will be all right," my mother-in-law returned good humoredly.
She was evidently much pleased at the prospect of the trip.
"It's wonderful! Wonderful!" she said as the full view of New York
harbor burst upon our eyes when we came out of the subway and rounded
the Barge office into Battery Park.
"Wait a moment. I want to fill my soul with it."
I felt my heart warm toward her. I have always loved the harbor. Many
treasured hours have I spent watching it from the sea wall or from
the deck of one of the Staten Island ferries. To me it is like a
loved friend. I enjoy hearing its praises, I shrink from hearing it
criticised. Mrs. Graham's hearty admiration made me feel more kindly
toward her than I had yet done.
Neither of us spoke again for several minutes. My gaze followed my
mother-in-law's as she turned from one marvel of the view to another.
At last she turned to me, her face softened. "I am ready to go on
now," she said. "I have always loved the remembrance of this harbor
since I first saw it years ago."
We walked slowly on toward the Aquarium, both of us watching the ships
as they came into the bay from the North river. The fussy, spluttering
little tugs, the heavily laden ferries, the lazy fishing boats, the
dredges and scows--even the least of them was made beautiful by its
setting of clear winter sun and sparkling water.
"How few large ocean steamers there seem to be!" commented my
mother-in-law, as a large ocean-going vessel cast off its tug and
glided past us on its way out to sea. "I suppose it is on account of
the war," she continued indifferently.
At this moment I heard a comment from a passing man that brought back
to me the misery of the day before.
"I guess that's the Saturn," he said to his companion as they walked
near us. "She was due to sail this morning. Got a lot of French
reservists on board. Poor devils! Anybody getting into that hell over
there has about one chance in a million to get out again."
Forgetful of my mother-in-law's presence, indeed, of everything else
in the world, I turned and gazed at the steamer making its way out to
sea. I knew that somewhere on its decks stood Jack, my brother-cousin,
the best friend my mother and I had ever known. When he had come back
from a year's absence to ask me to be his wife he had found that I
had married Dicky. Then he had announced his intention of joining the
French engineering corps.
What had that man said just now? Not one chance in a million! I felt
as if it were my hand that was pushing him across the ocean to almost
certain death.
When I could no longer see the Saturn as she churned her way out to
sea, I turned around quickly with a sense of guilt at having ignored
my mother-in-law's presence, and then a voice sounded in my ear.
"You don't seem delighted to see me. I am surprised at you."
Harry Underwood towered above me, his handsome face marred by the
little, leering smile he generally wears, his bold, laughing eyes
staring down into my horrified ones.
I do not believe that ever a woman of a more superstitious time
dreaded the evil eye as I do the glance of Harry Underwood.
How to answer him or what to do I did not know. He evidently had been
drinking enough to make himself irresponsible.
He did not give me time to ponder long, however, "Who is your lady
friend," he burlesqued. "Introduce me."
A man less audacious than Harry Underwood would have been daunted by
the picture my mother-in-law presented as he turned toward her. Her
figure was drawn up to its extreme height, and she was surveying him
through her lorgnette with an expression that held disgust mingled
with the curiosity an explorer might feel at meeting some strange
specimen of animal in his travels.
"Mrs. Graham, this is Mr. Underwood," I managed to stammer. "Mr.
Underwood, Mrs. Graham, Dicky's mother."
My mother-in-law may overawe ordinary people, but Harry Underwood
minded her disdain no more than he would have the contempt of a
stately Plymouth Rock hen. She had lowered the lorgnette as I spoke,
and he grabbed the hand which still held it, shaking it as warmly as
if it belonged to some long-lost friend.
"Well! Well!" he said effusively. "But this is great. Dear old Dicky's
mother!" He stopped and fixed a speculating stare upon her. "You mean
his sister," he said reprovingly to me. "Don't tell me you mean his
mother. No, no, I can't believe that."
He shook his head solemnly. Evidently he was much impressed with
himself. If I had not been so miserable I could have smiled at the
idea of Harry Underwood trying on the elder Mrs. Graham the silly
specious flatteries he addressed to most women. My mother-in-law did
not deign to answer him. Her manner was superb in its haughty reserve,
although I could not say much for her courtesy. As he released her
hand she let it drop quietly to her side and stood still, gazing at
him with a quiet, disdainful look that would have made almost any
other man wince.
But it did not bother Harry Underwood in the least. He gave her a
shrewd appraising look and then turned to me with an air of dismissal
that was as complete as her ignoring of him.
"Say!" he demanded, "aren't you a bit curious about what brought me
down here? You ought to be. The funniest thing in the world, my being
down here."
His silly repetitions, his slurred enunciation, his slightly unsteady
figure made me realize with a quick horror that the man was more
intoxicated than I supposed. How to get away from him as quickly as
possible was the problem I faced. I decided to humor him as I would
any other insane person I dreaded.
"I am never curious," I responded lightly. "I suppose, of course, that
you are here to visit the Aquarium, as we are. Good-by."
"No you don't--goin' to take you and little lady here on nice ferry
trip," he announced genially. "Sorry, yacht's out of commission this
morning, but ferry will do very well."
I have not much reason to like my mother-in-law, but I shall always
be grateful to her for the way she cut the Gordian knot of my
difficulties.
"Young man, you are impertinent and intoxicated," she said haughtily.
"Please step aside."
And taking me firmly by the arm my mother-in-law walked steadily with
me toward the door of the women's rest room. Her manner of conducting
me was much the same as the matron of a reformatory would use in
taking a charge from one place to another, but I was too relieved
to care. The leering face of Harry Underwood was no longer before my
eyes, and his befuddled words no longer jarred upon my ears. Those
were the only things that mattered to me for the moment. In my relief
I felt strong enough to brave the weight of my mother-in-law's anger,
which I was very sure was about to descend upon me.
XVII
A DANGER AND A PROBLEM
Safe in the shelter of the Aquarium rest room my mother-in-law faced
me. Her eyes were cold and hard, her tones like ice, as she spoke.
"Margaret! What is the meaning of this outrageous scene to which you
have just subjected me? Am I to understand that this man is typical of
your associates and friends? If so, I am indeed sorrier than ever that
my son was ever inveigled into marrying you."
For the moment I had a primitive instinct to scream and to smash
things generally, a sort of Berserk rage. The insult left me deadly
cold. Fortunately we were alone in the room, but I lowered my voice
almost to a whisper as I replied to her:
"Mrs. Graham," I said. "I never in my life knew there was a man like
Mr. Underwood until I married your son. He and his wife, Lillian Gale,
are your son's most intimate friends. He has almost forced me to meet
them time and again against my own inclinations. Of course, after
what you have just said, there can be no further question of our trip
together. If you will kindly wait here I will telephone your son to
come and get you at once."
I started for the door, but a little gasping cry from my mother-in-law
stopped me. She was feebly beating the air with her hands, her eyes
were distended, and her cheeks and lips had the ashen color which I
had learned to associate with my own little mother's frequent attacks.
Filled with remorse, I flew to her side and lowered her gently into an
arm chair which stood near. Snatching her handbag I opened it and
took out a little bottle of volatile salts which I knew she carried.
I pressed it into her hands, and then took out a tiny bottle of drops
with a familiar label. They were the same that my mother had used for
years. Taking a spoon which I also found in the bag, I measured the
drops, added a bit of water from the faucet in the adjoining room,
and gave them to her. As I came toward her I heard her murmuring to
herself:
"Lillian Gale! Lillian Gale!" she was saying. "How blind I've been."
Even in my anxiety for her condition I found time to wonder as to the
significance of her exclamations. Evidently the name of Lillian Gale
was familiar to her. From her tones also I knew that it was not a
welcome name. What was there in this past friendship of Dicky and
Mrs. Underwood to cause his mother so much emotion? I remembered the
comments I had heard at the theatre about my husband's friendship with
this woman.
All my old doubts and misgivings which had been smothered by the very
real admiration I had felt for Lillian Gale's many good qualities
revived. What was the secret in the lives of these two? I felt that
for my own peace of mind I must know.
The color was gradually coming back to my mother-in-law's face. I
stood by her chair, forgetting her insults, remembering nothing save
that she was old and a sick woman.
"Is there anything I can get for you?" I asked as I saw the strained
look in her eyes die out.
"Nothing, thank you," she said. Then to my surprise she reached up her
hand, took mine in hers, and pressed it feebly. I could not understand
her quick transition from bitter contempt to friendly warmth.
Evidently something in my words had startled her and had changed her
viewpoint. But I put speculation aside until some more opportune time.
The imperative thing for me was to minister to her needs, mentally and
physically.
"How do you feel now?" I asked.
"Much better, thank you," she replied. Then in a tone I had never
heard from her lips before: "Come here, my child."
I could hardly credit my own ears. Surely those gentle words, that
soft tone, could not belong to my husband's mother, who, in the short
time she had been an inmate of our home, had lost no opportunity to
show her dislike for me, and her resentment that her son had married
me.
But I obeyed her and came to her side. She put up her hand and took
mine, and I saw her proud old face work with emotion.
"I was unjust to you a few moments ago, Margaret," she said, "and I
want to beg your pardon."
If she had not been old, in feeble health and my husband's mother, I
would have considered the words scant reparation for the contemptuous
phrases with which she had scourged my spirit a few moments before.
But I was sane enough to know that the simple "I beg your pardon" from
the lips of the elder Mrs. Graham was equivalent to a whole torrent of
apologies from any ordinary person. I knew my mother-in-law's type of
mind. To admit she was wrong, to ask for one's forgiveness, was to her
a most bitter thing.
So I put aside from me every other feeling but consideration of the
proud old woman holding my hand, and said gently:
"I can assure you that I cherish no resentment. Let us not speak of it
again."
"I am afraid we shall have to speak of it, at least of the incident
which led me to say the things to you I did," she returned. I saw with
amazement that she was trying to conquer an emotion, the reason for
which I felt certain had something to do with her discovery that the
Underwoods were Dick's friends.
"I have a duty to you to perform," she went on, "a very painful duty,
which involves the reviving of an old controversy with my son. I beg
that you will not try to find out anything concerning its nature. It
is far better that you do not."
I felt smothered, as if I were being swathed in folds upon folds
of black cloth. What could this mystery be, this secret in the past
friendship of my husband and Lillian Gale, the woman whom he had
introduced to me as his best friend, and into whose companionship
and that of her husband, Harry Underwood, he had thrown me as much as
possible.