On the way to the Elegancia Mrs. Knight recounted in greater detail and
with numerous digressions and comments what Hannibal Wharton had said
to her. Not only had he given full vent to his anger at the marriage,
but he had allowed himself the pleasure of expressing a frank opinion
of the entire Knight family in all its unmitigated and complete
badness. Mrs. Knight herself he had called a blood-sucker, it
seemed--the good woman shook with rage at the memory--and he had
threatened her with the direst retribution if she persisted in
attempting to fasten herself upon him. Bob, he had explained, was a
loafer whom he had supported out of a sense of duty; if the idiot was
ungrateful he would simply have to suffer the consequences. But Bob's
mother felt the disgrace keenly, and on her account Hannibal had
expressed himself as willing to ransom the young fool for, say, ten
thousand dollars.
"Disgrace, eh? Ten thousand dollars?" Jim growled. "What does he think
we are, anyhow? Why, that ain't cigarette money."
"I never was so insulted in my life," stormed Mrs. Knight. "You should
have HEARD him!"
With a show of confidence not entirely real Jim rejoined: "Now, ma,
don't heat up. Everybody forgets me, but I'm going to draw cards in
this game."
The interview that followed their arrival at Lorelei's home was far
from pleasant, for Mrs. Knight was still too indignant to leave the
discussion in Jim's more capable hands; and Lorelei, wishing Bob to
cherish no illusions, allowed her relatives to make a complete and
distressing exhibition of their greed. At his first opportunity Bob
explained rather briefly:
"I offered Lorelei her freedom last night when my income was amputated."
"You've had time to think it over," his wife interposed. "Do you still
want me?"
"Why, of course. And you?"
She shrugged. "I don't change in one night. Now--I wish you and Jim
would leave mother and me--"
Bob acquiesced, glad to escape even in company with his redoutable
brother-in-law. When he and Jim had gone Mrs. Knight addressed Lorelei
with motherly candor.
"He's a pleasant fellow, of course, and he's crazy about you; but don't
let's be sentimental. If there's no chance to make it up with his
family we must get out of this mess and save what we can."
"Was Mr. Wharton very angry?"
"WAS he?" Mrs. Knight rolled her eyes in mingled rage and despair. "I'm
positively sick over the things he said. Everybody seems to be against
us, and--I'm almost ready to give up. But at least you saved your good
name--it was a marriage, not a scandal. We have that to be thankful
for." She followed this outburst of optimism with another. "You can
keep the name and go into vaudeville. The publicity will help you, and
that old crank will surely stretch his offer to keep his name off the
bill-boards. Of course, we won't get anything like what we expected,
but we'll get something. Fifteen or twenty thousand is better than--"
Noting the shadow of a smile upon her daughter's lips, she checked her
rush of words. "You don't seem to care what--"
"I don't."
Mrs. Knight's face twisted into an expression of pained incredulity.
"Surely you don't mean to live with Bob?" she gasped. "Not--NOW."
"I do mean to."
The mother's lips parted, closed, parted again--she seemed to taste
something unspeakably bitter. She groped for words to fit her state of
mind, but words failed her. When she did speak, however, the weakness
of her vocabulary was offset by the shrill tone of her surprise. "My
DEAR! Why, my DEAR! He hasn't a CENT. Of course you're quite confused
now--you've been through a lot, and you think he's the only man in the
world--but it's impossible. It's absurd. The marriage was only a form.
You're no more his wife in the sight of God than--"
"Let's not talk about God," cried Lorelei. "That ceremony was scarcely
legal, not to speak of religion or decency."
"You've lost your mind. You've changed completely."
"Yes, I have. You see, I wasn't a wife until yesterday--until Bob and I
had an understanding; but I AM a wife now, and I suppose I'll never be
a girl again. I've begun to think for myself, mother; I've begun to
understand. I've had a suspicion that my old ideas were wrong, and they
were."
"Fiddle-de-dee! You're hysterical. You can't make me believe you
learned to love that man."
"I don't say I love him."
Mrs. Knight snorted her triumph loudly. "Then you mustn't live with him
another moment. My dear child, such a relationship is--well, think it
out for yourself."
Lorelei saw the futility of argument, but certain thoughts demanded
expression, and she voiced them, as much for her own sake as for her
mother's. "It's too late to talk about that kind of honor. But there's
another kind. When I married Bob I sold myself; and all of us--I mean
the family--knew that what I sold was counterfeit. He thought he was
getting something more than my body, but we knew he wasn't, and now
that we find we took bad money for a worthless article, how can we
pretend to be swindled? When people try to cheat, and get cheated
themselves, what do they do? If they're game they smile and take their
medicine, don't they?"
It was plain that this form of logic impressed the listener not at all.
Lorelei continued:
"I've learned that marriage is more than I considered it, mother. It's
an obligation. I intend to live up to my part just as long as Bob lives
up to his. If he complained of the fraud we practised on him I'd be
willing to leave him; but he doesn't--so the matter is out of our
hands."
Mrs. Knight relieved her steadily increasing anger by a harsh outburst.
"I never thought you could be so silly, after the way you were raised.
You talk about obligations; what about your obligation to your parents?
Didn't we give up everything for you? Didn't Peter sacrifice his life's
work to give you an opportunity?"
"I'll keep on sharing my salary with you."
"Salary!" Mrs. Knight spat out the word. "After all our plans! Salary!
My God!"
"You're probably just as honest in your ideas as I am in mine," Lorelei
told her. "I sha'n't allow you to want for--"
"I should hope not, since you're to blame for Peter's condition-- Oh,
you know you are! If you hadn't wanted a career he'd still be in Vale,
a strong, healthy man instead of a cripple."
"I didn't want a career," Lorelei denied with heat. "And father almost
HAD to leave Vale."
"Nothing of the sort. He was a big man there. 'Had to leave Vale,' eh?
So you've turned against your own blood, and disparage your
father--Anyhow, he was hurt while he was working to give you a start,
and now he's helpless. Who waits on him? I do. If I believed in prayers
I'd pray that you may never have a child to disappoint you as you've
disappointed him and me." Her voice quavered as she tried for pathos,
but her fury was still too fresh to be entirely restrained, and it
scalded her like vitriol. "If Bob Wharton was half a man he'd step
aside; but of course he won't until he's had enough of your beauty.
That's all he wants, your beauty--and you'll be fool enough to let him
have it FOR NOTHING. I'm sure I wish you joy with the selfish wretch
and with your new-fangled ideas of wifely devotion. This will kill
Peter. You'll have his death on your conscience. Think that over, now
that you're so fond of thinking. Ten thousand dollars right now would
save his life. Think that over, too, when your own father is dead and
gone."
White with anger, sick with disappointment, Mrs. Knight whisked herself
out of the apartment.
Bob returned in excellent spirits--nothing had power permanently to
dampen his cheerfulness--and, seizing Lorelei's hand, he slipped a
diamond ring upon her third finger, then a plain gold band over that.
"Now we're legally wrapped up in the same package and labeled 'Wed,'"
he declared. "I've been terribly embarrassed."
"How did you manage to buy these?" Lorelei inquired, with some
curiosity.
"I earned the money. Fact! It was a premium on abstinence. I met a
friend; he invited me to drink; I refused; friend was stunned. Before
he recovered I ran through his pockets like a pet squirrel. It beats a
mask and a lead pipe."
"We can't begin this way," she laughed. "I love pretty things, and this
is your first gift"--she kissed the solitaire--"but please don't give
me anything more for a while. I'm not going to lecture you nor wear a
long face nor find fault--ever--we're going to wear smiles while our
experiment lasts. To-morrow is Sunday--will you take me somewhere?"
"Will I?" Bob cried, in delight. "I'll hire a car and we'll motor up to
Tuxedo. There's a dandy crowd out there. We'll take Adoree and the
Immaculate Critic, and we'll have dinner at the club. Campbell can show
the latest effects in negligees, and--"
"That's too expensive; let's all go to Coney Island."
"Coney? How do you get there?"
"I don't know. Will you go?"
"Certainly, if you want to! I dare say we'll meet some of the best
steamfitters in the city. We'll patronize everything from the Mystic
Maze to the Trained Fleas; we'll Bump the Bumps and you'll throw your
arms around me and scream, and we'll look at the Incubator Babies and
blush. I can't wait."
Strangely enough, the news of Bob Wharton's marriage had not leaked
into the papers up to this time, and Lorelei, having regard for the
feelings of his parents, insisted that he help her to keep the matter
secret as long as possible. Bob rebelled at first, for he adored
publicity. He rejoiced in his newest exploit and desired his world to
hear of it, while the prospect of further mortifying his father was so
agreeable that it required much persuasion to make him relinquish it.
With her own family Lorelei had less difficulty, for they were by no
means eager to advertise their bad bargain and had withdrawn behind a
stiff restraint, leaving the couple to their own devices. This attitude
spared the bride much unpleasant notoriety, enabling her to pursue her
work at the theater without comment.
Bob's society proved in some ways a welcome change from the sordid
drabness of her own relatives, for he was colorful, versatile, and
nearly always good-humored. He kept Lorelei entertained, at least, and
if at times he provoked her it was only as a mischievous boy tries the
patience of a parent. He was weirdly prankish; serious happenings
reacted strangely upon him. Misfortune aroused in him a wild hilarity;
cares excited mirth. He bore his responsibilities lightly and displayed
them to his friends with the same profound pride with which a small boy
exhibits a collection of beetles, but they meant nothing more.
Lorelei realized before long that this very jocundity of his, since it
fed upon constant change and excitement, constituted the gravest menace
to their happiness. The man lived entirely outside of himself; he
utterly lacked the power of self-amusement, and, although he seemed
content when she was near, during the long hours of her absence he was
like a fretful child. He refused to frequent the theater, ostensibly
because of their secret, in reality because of his shame at allowing
her to work. As Lorelei came to know him better and to understand the
conflicting forces within him, she began to wonder how long he could
hold himself true to his bargain.
During the first week of their married life his system struggled to
throw off the effects of his recent dissipations, and in consequence it
craved only rest. Greatly encouraged by this lack of desire, he boasted
that the battle was already won, and Lorelei pretended to agree with
him.
She did not deceive herself, however, and a brief experience convinced
her that to be merely a wife to one of Bob's vagrant disposition was
not enough; that in order to keep his new self alive she must also be
his sweetheart, his chum, and his partner. If she failed in any one of
these roles disaster was bound to follow. But to succeed in them all,
when there was no love to strengthen her, was by no means easy. Always
she felt a great emptiness, and a disappointment that her life had been
so crookedly fashioned: sometimes she even felt degraded, and wondered
if she were doing right, after all. Reason argued that to live with a
man she did not love was immoral, and the mere fact that she and Bob
were legally married gave her no comfort whatever. There had been
nothing sacred in their union; she supposed that the courts would
dissolve it if the truth became known.
More than once Lorelei had spurned offers far more profitable and no
less holy than that existing between her and Bob, and it seemed to her
now that the difference between mistress and wife must lie in something
besides the mutterings of a sleepy Hoboken court officer. Just where
the line of demarcation lay, however, or upon which side of that line
she stood, she could not determine.
In the course of a fortnight Bob began to grow restless. One evening
when he came for her she saw that he was nervous; a strained, tired
look had crept into his eyes, and she thought she understood.
Nevertheless his spirits were ebullient. When they reached home he
ushered her into the apartment with a flourish, and Lorelei was amazed
to find their table set with strange linen, silver, and china and the
dining-room decorated as if for a party.
"Who's coming? What on earth?" she exclaimed.
"A little surprise. A supper for just you and me, my dear."
Two strangers, evidently caterer's men, were completing the final
preparations for an extravagant banquet. Noting a collection of
wine-glasses at each place, Lorelei glanced at Bob reproachfully, but
he only laughed, saying:
"Take heart. The liquid diet is all a bluff. Kindly note the
centerpiece."
She saw that the center of the table was occupied by a highly decorated
silver wine-cooler--empty.
"There it sits," Bob exclaimed, "the little Temple of
Bacchus--overgrown with roses. It used to be my shrine and my
confessional until I saw the light. Now that I've escaped from the
bondage of sin, sickness, and error, I'm giving a triumphal feast upon
the altar steps."
It was one of his whims. During the meal he made elaborate speeches in
the names of his friends. His imaginary guests congratulated him; in
empty glasses they toasted the bride, they extolled her beauty, they
praised his own gallantry, and vaunted his conquest of the demon rum.
As the supper progressed Bob simulated a growing intoxication, while
the hired servants looked on as if at the antics of a lunatic. He made
it amusing, and Lorelei entered into the spirit of the make-believe.
But when they were alone and all traces of the feast had disappeared he
swooped down out of the clouds and confessed miserably:
"I thought I could kid myself, but I can't. I want a drink.
I--WANT--A--DRINK! God! how I want it!"
Lorelei went swiftly to him. "The fight is just beginning, Bob. You're
doing nobly."
"It isn't thirst," he explained, and she saw that same strained
uneasiness in his bright eyes. "I'm not THIRSTY--I'm shaky inside. My
ego is wabbling on its pins and I'm rattling to pieces. I manage well
enough when you're around, but when I'm alone I--remember." She felt
him twitch and shiver nervously. "And there are so many places to get
booze! Everywhere I look I see a bartender with arms outstretched. When
I grit my teeth the damned appetite leaves me alone, but when I'm off
my guard it gumshoes in again. I get tired of fighting."
Lorelei nodded sympathetically. "That's why it's so hard to reform;
one's conscience tires, but temptation is always fresh."
"It's not thirst," Bob repeated. "My soul is dried out. I get to
thinking late at night. I'm afraid I'm going to quit."
"You must keep busy."
"I'm going to work."
"No, no! Not yet," she cried, quickly. "You must fight it out where I
can help."
Bob smiled gratefully. "You're a thoroughbred. I promised to let you
have your way, and you shall. Even if we lose the patient it will be a
dandy operation."
Beginning with the next morning Lorelei inaugurated a change in the
domestic routine. Every day thereafter she and Bob took a long walk. He
rebelled, of course, as soon as the novelty wore off, for he detested
walking. So did she, for that matter, but she pretended to like it, and
her simulated zest overcame his reluctance. They did not amble
aimlessly about the streets; she led him on purposeful tramps that kept
them in the open air most of the day, and, although her feet blistered
until she could hardly drag herself to the theater when night came, she
persisted. In time the walking grew to be a dreadful task; it took all
her determination, but she would not give up.
With admirable craft she gradually won him away from the cafes,
assuming delight in household duties that she was far from feeling. In
reality she was a wretched cook, but she declared her intention of
becoming an expert and insisted upon preparing at least two of their
daily meals, at which time she saw to it that Bob ate more sweets and
more salt foods than he was accustomed to. The former took the place of
alcohol, the latter roused a healthy thirst, and thirsty men drink
water. These were only little things; her heaviest task lay in keeping
his mind occupied. At times this was easy; again the effort wore her
out. Bob began to have surly spells.
For the first time in her life Lorelei really worked, and worked not
for herself, but for another. Although the experience was interesting
in its novelty, the result remained unsatisfactory, for not only did
love fail to respond to these sacrifices, but she could see no
improvement in Bob's condition. The thing she fought was impalpable,
yet enormous; it was weak, yet strong; it seemed to sleep, yet it was
ever awake.
Of necessity the two lived in the closest intimacy, than which nothing
is ordinarily more fatal to domestic happiness. But Bob was unique; he
did not tire; he began to rely upon Lorelei as a sick man leans upon
his nurse, and to worship her as a man worships his sweetheart. There
was more than passion in his endearments now.
But it was discouraging to the girl, who gained no strength from her
penance and derived no satisfaction whatever in service for service's
sake. The whole arrangement tried her patience desperately; she was
weary in mind and body, and looked back with regret upon her former
easy life. There was no time now for recreation--Bob had to be amused.
Salary-day assumed a new importance, and she began to count the cost of
every purchase.
So spring went and midsummer came. It was terribly hot in the city; the
nights were breathless, the days were glaring, and this heat was
especially trying to one in Bob's condition. In his periods of gaiety
he showered his wife with attentions and squandered every dollar he
could borrow in presents for her; in his hours of depression he was
everything strange, morose, and irritable.
Without her knowledge he applied to his old firm for a salaried
position and was refused. He appealed to Merkle with the same result,
but succeeded in borrowing a thousand dollars, with which he bought
Lorelei a set of black opals, going into debt for half the price.