THE DIVORCE
He had expected to meet Daisy in the hall, but she was nowhere in sight,
and she who appeared in response to the card he sent up seemed confused
and unnatural to such a degree that Guy asked in some alarm if anything
had happened, and where Daisy was.
Nothing had happened--that is--well, nothing was the matter with Daisy,
Mrs. McDonald said, only she was nervous and not feeling quite well that
morning, and thought she had better not come down. They had not expected
him so soon, she continued, and she regretted exceedingly that her
husband was not there, but she had sent for him, and hoped he would come
immediately. Had Mr. Thornton been to breakfast?
Yes, he had, and he did not understand at all what she meant; if Daisy
could not come to him he must go to her, he said, and he started for the
door, when Mrs. McDonald sprang forward, and, laying her hand on his
arm, held him back, saying:
"Wait, Mr. Thornton; wait till husband comes--to tell you--"
"Tell me what?" Guy demanded of her, feeling sure now that something had
befallen Daisy.
"Tell you--that--that--Daisy is--that he has--that--oh, believe me, it
was not my wish, and I don't know now why it was done," Mrs. McDonald
said, still trying to detain Guy and keep him in the room.
But her efforts were vain, for, shaking off her grasp, Guy opened the
hall door, and with a cry of joy caught Daisy herself in his arms.
In a state of fearful excitement and very curious to know what was
passing between her mother and Guy, she had stolen downstairs to listen,
and had reached the door just as Guy opened it so suddenly.
"Daisy, darling, I feared you were sick," he cried, nearly smothering
her with his caresses.
But Daisy writhed herself away from him, and, putting up her hands to
keep him off, cried out:
"Oh, Guy, Guy, you can't--you mustn't. You must never kiss me again or
love me any more, because I am--I am not--oh, Guy, I wish you had never
seen me; I am so sorry, too. I did like you. I--I--Guy--Guy--I ain't
your wife any more! Father has got a divorce!"
She whispered the last words, and then, affrighted at the expression of
Guy's face, fled half-way up the stairs, where she stood looking down
upon him, while, with a face as white as ashes, he, too, stood gazing at
her and trying to frame the words which should ask her what she meant.
He did not believe her literally; the idea was too preposterous, but he
felt that something horrible had come between him and Daisy--that in
some way she was as much lost to him as if he had found her coffined for
the grave, and the suddenness of the blow took from him for a moment his
powers of speech, and he still stood looking at her when the street door
opened and a new actor appeared upon the scene in the person of Mr.
McDonald, who had hastened home in obedience to the message from his
wife.
It was a principle of Mr. McDonald never to lose his presence of mind or
his temper, or the smooth, low tone of voice he had cultivated years ago
and practiced since with so good effect. And now, though he understood
the state of matters at once and knew that Guy had heard the worst, he
did not seem ruffled in the slightest degree, and his voice was just as
kind and sweet as ever as he bade Guy good-morning and advanced to shake
his hand. But Guy would not take it. He had always disliked and
distrusted Mr. McDonald, and he felt intuitively that whatever harm had
befallen him had come through the oily-tongued, insinuating man who
stood smilingly before him. With a gesture of disgust he turned away
from the offered hand, and in a voice husky with suppressed excitement,
asked:
"What does all this mean, that when, after a separation of months, I
come for my wife I am told that she is not my wife--that there has been
a--a divorce?"
Guy had brought himself to name the horrid thing, and the very sound of
the word served to make it more real and clear to his mind, and there
were great drops of sweat upon his forehead and about his mouth as he
asked what it meant.
"Oh, Guy, don't feel so badly. Tell him, father, I did not do it," Daisy
cried, as she stood leaning over the stair-rail and looking down at the
wretched man.
"Daisy, go to your room. You should not have seen him at all," Mr.
McDonald said, with more sternness of manner than was usual for him.
Then, turning to Guy, he continued:
"Come in here, Mr. Thornton, where we can be alone while I explain to
you what seems so mysterious now."
They went together into the little parlor, and for half an hour or more
the sound of their voices was distinctly heard as Mr. McDonald tried to
explain what there really was no explanation or excuse for. Daisy was
not contented at Elmwood, and though she complained of nothing, she was
not happy as a married woman, and was glad to be free again. That was
all, and Guy understood at last that Daisy was his no longer; that the
law which was a disgrace to the State in which it existed had divorced
him from his wife without his knowledge or consent, and for no other
reason than incompatibility of temperament, and a desire on Daisy's part
to be free from the marriage tie. Not a word had been said of Guy's
altered fortunes, but he felt that his comparative poverty was really
the cause of this great wrong, and for a few moments resentment and
indignation prevailed over every other feeling; then, when he remembered
the little blue-eyed, innocent-faced girl whom he had loved so much and
thought so good and true, he laid his head upon the sofa arm and groaned
bitterly, while the man who had ruined him sat coolly by, citing to him
many similar cases where divorces had been procured without the
knowledge of the absent party. It was a common--a very common thing, he
said, and reflected no disgrace upon either party where there was no
criminal charge. Daisy was too young and childish anyway, and ought not
to have been married for several years, and it was really quite as much
a favor to Guy as a wrong. He was free again--free to marry if he
liked--he had taken care to see to that, so--
"Stop!" Guy almost thundered out. "There is a point beyond which you
shall not go. Be satisfied with taking Daisy from me, and do not insult
me with talk of a second marriage. Had I found Daisy dead it would have
hurt me less than this fearful wrong you have done. I say you, for I
charge it all to you. Daisy could have had no part in it, and I ask to
see her and hear from her own lips that she accepts the position in
which you and your diabolical laws have placed her before I am willing
to give her up. Call her, will you?"
"No, Mr. Thornton," Mr. McDonald replied. "To see Daisy would be useless
and only excite you more than you are excited now. You cannot see her."
"Yes, he will, father. If Guy wants to see me, he shall."
It was Daisy herself who spoke, and who a second time had been acting
the part of listener. Going up to Guy, she knelt down beside him, and,
laying her arms across his lap, said to him:
"What is it, Guy? what is it you wish to say to me?"
The sight of her before him in all her girlish beauty, with that soft,
sweet expression on the face raised so timidly to his, unmanned Guy
entirely, and, clasping her in his arms, he wept passionately for a
moment, while he tried to say:
"Oh, Daisy, my darling, tell me it is a horrid dream; tell me you are
still my wife, and go with me to the home I have tried to make so
pleasant for your sake. It is not like Elmwood, but I will some time
have one handsomer even than that, and I'll work so hard for you! Oh,
Daisy, tell me you are sorry for the part you had in this fearful
business, if, indeed, you had a part, and I'll take you back so gladly!
Will you, Daisy? will you be my wife once more? I shall never ask you
again. This is your last chance with me. Reflect before you throw it
away."
Guy's mood was changing a little, because of something he saw in
Daisy's face--a drawing back from him when he spoke of marriage.
"Daisy must not go back with you; I shall not suffer that," Mr. McDonald
said, while Daisy, still keeping her arms around Guy's neck, where she
had put them when he drew her to him, replied:
"Oh, Guy! I can't go with you now; but I shall like you always, and I'm
so sorry for you. I never wanted to be married; but if I must, I'd
better have married Tom, or that old Chicago man; they would not feel so
bad, and I'd rather hurt them than you."
The utter childishness of the remark roused Guy, and with a gesture of
impatience, he put Daisy from him, and, rising to his feet, said
angrily:
"This, then is your decision, and I accept it; but, Daisy, if you have
in you a spark of true womanhood you will some time be sorry for this
day's work; while you!" and he turned fiercely upon Mr. McDonald--"words
cannot express the contempt I feel for you; and know, too, that I
understand you fully, and am certain that were I the rich man I was when
you gave your daughter to me, you would not have taken her away. But I
will waste no more words upon you. You are a villain! and Daisy is--"
His white lips quivered a little as he hesitated a moment, and then
added: "Daisy was my wife."
Then, without another word, he left the house, nor saw the white,
frightened face which looked after him so wistfully until a turn in the
street hid him from view.