Annie soon found herself in a difficult position between the
brother-in-law she liked and the husband she disliked. William was
always wanting her to be out of doors with him, Harry teased her
with sulky reproaches if she was away from him for more than half an
hour at a time. The invalid came down to the drawing-room, which was
well warmed and cheerful, on the second day after William’s arrival,
leaning on his brother’s arm. The ascendency over him which Annie
had gained in the sickroom she managed to maintain still; and the
artless William would make gestures of admiration and astonishment at
Harry’s docility to her from behind her husband’s back, and there was
much unpleasantness on one or two occasions when his brother caught
him. William also made himself obnoxious by calling Harry “the Ogre,”
sometimes out of hearing of his elder brother and sometimes within,
and by assuming an intimate knowledge of Annie’s movements during the
four years of her absence from the Grange, which Harry of course did
not possess.
In these early days of her return Annie put off questions about the way
in which she had occupied those four years, and left Harry to imagine
that she had supported herself by teaching. Her skill in conversational
fence being much greater than that of either of her companions, she
could always lead the talk into what channel she would; but it was
growing a delicate matter to avoid collision between Harry and William,
each of whom considered himself to have an exclusive right to her
attention, when the situation was changed by the arrival on the same
day, though not by the same train, of Wilfred and Sir George.
William was dispatched by Annie to Beckham in the dog-cart to meet his
eldest brother, and, when he was gone, Harry, who, under his wife’s
care, was getting rapidly through his convalescence, fidgeted about the
room, and at last knocked over a gypsy-table covered with trifles.
“All right, Harry; I’ll pick them up,” said Annie, hearing a muttered
oath from her husband.
“What are you in such a hurry for? I do hate a woman to be in a hurry,”
said he, testily, noticing unusual haste in his wife’s movements as she
knelt on the floor gathering up the things his clumsiness had scattered.
“It is getting very late, and I must dress for dinner now George is
coming back.”
Harry flung himself into a chair and scowled at her.
“Oh, all this fuss for George! Your appearance didn’t matter for me, I
suppose? I’m only your husband!”
“My dear Harry, if you will take the trouble to think you will see
that, as, since you have been ill, you have not had late dinner, I
have not insulted you by changing my gown to see you eat toast and
mutton-broth in your dressing-gown. Besides, I should like to hide the
falling off in my looks which you were kind enough to tell me of from
George, who will not hurt my vanity by mentioning it, if he does notice
any great change.”
“Look here, Annie! I didn’t want to hurt your feelings; I didn’t think
you were vain; and--and--do you know--I really--I think sometimes, when
you tell us anything to make us laugh, for instance, you look prettier
than you ever did. You--you look so mischievous, and your eyes sparkle
so, you make one want to kiss you--only then--then, somehow, you never
seem to want to be kissed--at least not by me!” he added, testily.
Annie burst out laughing, a little constrainedly perhaps.
“Why, whom should I want to kiss me except my husband?” said she,
carelessly, as she bent over her occupation of fitting together two
pieces of broken Dresden china.
“I don’t know, I am sure,” said Harry, rather sulkily, feeling that his
conciliatory speech had not met with the response it deserved--“George,
perhaps.”
“Why, surely you are not jealous of George, Harry!” she cried, laughing
more naturally.
“I don’t know that I’m not; but it wouldn’t make much difference to you
if I was, would it?” he asked; and, as, for one moment, she did not
answer, he walked, with the aid of the intervening chairs, from the one
on which he was sitting to one beside her, and laid his sound arm, the
right, on her shoulder. “It wouldn’t make any difference, would it?” he
repeated.
Annie looked up rather mischievously.
“I don’t think it would, Harry.”
This was a disconcerting answer to a husband.
“Oh, very well!” said he, gruffly, after a minute’s pause. “Then I
see what I am to expect;” and he got up to walk away with offended
dignity; but, not having recovered his strength yet, and having tired
and excited himself already that afternoon, he staggered before he had
gone many steps, and immediately he found his wife’s arm in his. “Thank
you,” said he, haughtily; then he added, with the air of a martyr, “I’m
not well yet, not nearly well; I’m not strong enough to walk steadily.”
“Oh, well, Harry, I’ve seen you walk just as unsteadily when you were
quite well!” said Annie, dryly.
Harry snatched his arm from her, and fell into the nearest chair,
flushing violently.
“Very well, ma’am; you call me a drunkard now! I shouldn’t have thought
any woman would have the heart to make fun of a sick husband; but you
don’t care for anything as long as you can laugh and scamper about
the garden like a great tomboy with that infernal long-legged idiot
William! You are enough to make any husband drink, just to forget you,
you unfeeling little creature, you!”
“Come now, Harry, I don’t think you can say it was I drove you to
drink; and I think you would have forgotten me pretty quickly even
without that assistance,” said she, passing her hand soothingly down
his arm and speaking in a caressing voice, the charm of which always
told on him when she chose to use it. “You know very well that it
will not require any more crimes on the part of your wicked wife, for
instance, to induce you to undo all the progress you have made toward
getting well during the last few days by sitting up to-night drinking
with George and Wilfred.”
“And what do you care if I do?”
“It is no affair of mine, of course, and I shall not annoy you and
bring down a storm upon my own head by interfering. To borrow your own
words, it would make no difference if I did.”
“How do you know it wouldn’t? Don’t I always do what you wish?”
“I think the temptation to do what I don’t wish will be stronger now
you will have pleasanter company than a faded wife.”
“Whoever called you ‘faded’? I never did--you know I never did! And you
know I like your company. I never knew you so pleasant before.”
“Oh, you don’t think me pleasant always!”
“No; because you say such nasty things--things you never used to dare
to say when I was well. Now I’m ill, you think you can say anything,
because I’m not strong enough yet to think of anything just as cutting
to say back. But I’ll pay you out when I get well again, clever as you
are.” He spoke in a rather irritated tone, but not ill-humoredly; she
was so smiling, so careless, that he was as much amused as annoyed by
her.
“I sha’n’t give you a chance, because I have some very important
business in London, and my duty as your nurse is over, and to-morrow I
shall go to town.”
“And when are you coming back?”--excitedly.
She did not answer.
“When do you mean to come back, I say?” he repeated, in a louder voice.
Still no answer. Harry clutched his wife’s arm.
“Then I shall not let you go! You are not my nurse; you are my wife,
and I forbid you to leave me again--do you hear? What is this business
you speak of? What is it? I have a right to know--and I will know!”
Annie did not attempt to remove her arm from his grasp, but looked
slowly up at him with a steady, cold, firm expression in her dark eyes,
which silenced him even before she spoke:
“You have a right to know, and you shall know. I can’t tell you all
now, but just this. For four years, during which you never took the
trouble to find out whether I was starving--and I was not so very far
off that sometimes--I have been working to lay the foundation of a
career for myself--an honorable career, I need not say, even to you.
I have been put back a little, just as I was going to make a great
stride forward, by coming to nurse you. I have fulfilled that duty now,
and, now you are well, I am only wasting my time here. You must let
me go. I will come back when you please, if I can, and I will let you
know everything you wish. But my presence, now you are all going to be
together again, would only irritate you--already it seems to be the
cause of your quarreling with William. You will be disgusted again with
my ‘learned airs,’ and with my preaching--for I shall not be able to
keep myself from uttering useless remonstrances when I see you going on
in your old way, as I know you will, and bringing back the fever, and
making yourself ill again----”
“But, if I make myself ill again, you will have to nurse me.”
“Indeed, you are mistaken!” answered Annie, raising her eyes to his
with spirit. “If now, after being warned, you choose, rashly, to put
your life in danger, and to undo all the good our constant watching and
nursing have done you, I shall not consider myself bound to sacrifice
myself any longer to a man who could be guilty of such foolish and
selfish conduct, whether he is my husband or not.”
“Then you would leave me to die while you went on enjoying your
‘career,’ as you call it?”
“I would leave you to take your chance.”
Harry began to tremble all over, and the tears rose to his eyes. His
hand relaxed its hold on Annie’s arm, and fell down by his side.
Softened, frightened by the effect of her words, Annie clasped her
little hands on his shoulder, and told him not to take her words so
seriously, that she had spoken them only because she wanted him to take
care of himself and get well fast.
“No, you don’t--no, you don’t! You want me to die, so that you may be
free!” said he, in a hoarse, tremulous voice, keeping his head turned
away from her.
Happily, his own emotion prevented his noticing the effect of his words
on Annie, whose cheeks flushed suddenly, and whose tongue faltered as
she was about to interrupt him. He continued:
“I see, I see! You want me to drink and kill myself, or ruin myself, so
that you may go away and get praised for being a martyr! Go away--go
away from me! I don’t want your little soft hands about me, when all
the while I know your heart is hard and you hate me!” said he, shaking
her off, vehemently.
Annie rose slowly, and walked with downcast head toward the door. But
she had not shut it behind her before her husband’s voice called her
back.
“Annie, Annie--come here--only one minute! I want to speak to you!”
She returned, and stood, with her eyes still down, very meekly before
him.
“Annie,” said he, stretching forward to take her hand and draw her
toward him, “I didn’t mean what I said just now. I was only in fun--at
least I didn’t think what I was saying. I--I wanted to see if you would
believe me. I know you don’t want me to die; and look here--if you will
promise not to go away yet I won’t sit up with George, and I will drink
only just what you let me, and I’ll do just what you tell me--till I
get well.”
Annie shook her head.
“I will--I swear it! Now you will stay, won’t you? Here--give me your
other hand. There! I swear to do just what you tell me--till I get
well. Now promise not to go to London. No--you swear, too,” said he,
eagerly.
“I promise----”
“No, swear.”
“I swear not to go to London till you are quite well, if you don’t do
anything rash. There--I hear the dog-cart. Harry, I must go to the door
to meet him.”
“Meet who?”
“George, of course.”
“Confound George!”
But Annie was already out of the room.
She was flushed with the excitement of the successful battle she had
just had with her husband, and with the other excitement of meeting
her eldest brother-in-law, and George showed nothing but pleasure at
sight of her. They came into the drawing-room talking brightly, and
the baronet scarcely exchanged more than a couple of sentences and a
hand-shake with his surly brother, so pleased was he to find a pleasant
woman again in his house.
When Wilfred arrived, just before dinner, he in his turn engrossed her
completely; and at dinner these two new-comers took up so much of her
attention that the convalescent Harry, who was at dinner with the rest
for the first time since his illness, began to look very black, and to
find fault with everything which was put before him.
“I can’t eat that. How am I to hack at it with only one hand?” he
growled, when the servant offered him some mutton.
“Shall I cut it up for you, sir?”
“No, I won’t have it; I don’t want anything at all!” said he, looking
with a frown at his wife, who turned from George to tell the servant
to bring the plate to her, and dutifully cut up the mutton, which her
sulky husband, without thanks, then condescended to eat.
Annie had put on a very pretty pale gray silk gown with elbow-sleeves
and square-cut bodice edged with dainty lace, and a long spray of pink
azalea fastened carelessly on one side of the neck. She was delighted
at the pleasure they all--except her morose husband, who tried hard
not to laugh when his brothers did at any speech of hers that amused
them--evidently took in her society; and she smiled and laughed and
chattered and looked so charming that not one of the men could keep his
eyes off her for more than a few moments at a time.
“Have you seen anything of the Mainwarings, Annie?” asked George, when
dinner was nearly over.
“Oh, yes! I met Mrs. Mainwaring the other day with a volume of ‘The
Band of Hope Review’--I don’t know whether you have heard of it--under
one arm. She said she thought of coming to read to Harry, if he would
like it, to cheer him up.”
Something in Annie’s demure tone set them all laughing.
“I said he would be delighted; but we didn’t think too much excitement
was good for him just at first. And she asked if Sir George had any
good books in his library, and I said, ‘Oh, yes!’ and she said I ought
to read some to him. I said I thought I ought, and I came back and read
him the _Sporting Dramatic News_ all through.”
“Oh, Annie, she wouldn’t have you back in her schoolroom now!”
“No, indeed she would not!” answered Annie promptly.
When she rose to leave the gentlemen, there was a little anxiety in her
manner as she glanced toward her husband. He was sitting with his eyes
fixed doggedly upon his plate, his face was already rather flushed, and
his hand was round the stem of a glass of Burgundy. She knew how little
weight a word from her was likely to have now; but it was her duty to
try, and she did try. As she passed him, she put out her left hand,
with its one ring--her wedding-ring, which decorum now forced her to
wear--lightly on his shoulder, and, as he gave no sign, she bent down
and slipped the slim white fingers gently up to his neck. He smelled
the faint perfume of the azalea on her breast, heard her quickened
breathing as he still hesitated.
“Do you remember?” she whispered softly.
He raised his eyes, sullenly still, to the little, pleading face.
She was irresistible at that moment, with her smiling lips and her
sparkling eyes, her head a little on one side in entreaty. There came
a flash from his eyes; her womanly fascination had won from him what
his promise would have failed to get. He got up, and, leaning on her
slight shoulder, let her lead him out of the room.
Annie was so much pleased with this unexpected little triumph that her
bright humor infected him now that he was alone with her; and, as she
dragged the easiest chair before the drawing-room fire for him, she
chattered on so that he had no time or inclination for the complaints
he was going to make against his brother George’s brutal indifference
to his illness. He was much annoyed when, in a very short time, they
heard the dining-room door open and the voices of the other three in
the hall.
“Hang them all! They make so much noise. Annie, I think I’ll go to bed;
and I want you to come and read to me.”
But George had heard the last words as he came in.
“No, no, Harry! Go to bed by all means, if you will; but you mustn’t
make a victim of Annie. You have had my Lady Sunbeam all to yourself
for weeks; you must let her shed a few rays on the rest of us now.”
Before Harry could make an angry reply, Annie broke in:
“Harry has no wish to deprive you of such a very simple pleasure; I
will shed my rays upon you, as you poetically term it, by playing you
the very few new pieces I have learned since you last heard me, George.
And, Harry, you are feverish--you had better not stay up; I have
nothing to play that you have not heard, and I will come up and read
you to sleep by the time you are ready for me.”
She rang the bell without giving him time to answer; and Harry, who was
really too worn out to make much resistance, grumblingly went off with
the servant, who lent a stout arm to his tottering master.
Annie went to the piano, and played one thing after another, and sung a
French song which they only half understood, but which sent them into
fits of laughter, until George, who was leaning on the instrument, grew
more interested in the talk he was having with her than in the music;
and, as her fingers, from idly playing, at last ceased altogether and
lay on the keys, he said:
“Come into the conservatory. You love flowers, and there you will let
me smoke, I know.”
Annie shook her head reluctantly.
“I mustn’t. I’ve promised Harry to read to him. He will be past being
read to and do nothing but growl if I delay any longer,” said she, with
resignation, as she rose slowly and shut the piano.
“How you have managed to tame the bear, though!” said George,
admiringly. “Of course gratitude or courtesy is out of the question
with him; but I thought even submission was, until I saw him follow
you out of the dining-room to-night. But then an archangel couldn’t
have resisted you as you looked at that moment,” continued he, in a low
voice, bending down to look into her eyes. “It was hard to see a look
like that wasted upon such a clod.”
“Do you think so?” said Annie, laughing lightly, as she went up-stairs
and he followed her. “Why, that is only the old story! It is the
‘clods’ of the earth who get the benefit of all the beauty and grace
and pleasant things in the world.”
“You have grown cynical, Annie. Come in here for a few minutes and
explain yourself.”
He led the way into the dimly-lighted picture-gallery, where Annie and
William had had their first game of battledoor and shuttlecock four and
a half years before. She sunk down upon the cushioned ottoman to which
George led her, and looked gravely at him as he seated himself beside
her.
“It is very easy to explain,” said she. “Do not all the people who
spend their lives in the practice of any art, clever people generally,
and capable of hard thinking as well as hard living, waste their
efforts for the careless enjoyment of others who have not half their
brains, or their courage, or their capacity? The rich _parvenu_ who
doesn’t know a Rubens from a Rembrandt, patronizes the rising painter
and delights afterward in the boast that he ‘made that man, sir.’ The
wise man writes for fools to read. And the actress gives days of study
to her share in a piece which the dressmaker in the pit condemns as
‘very poor stuff.’ It is always the same.”
“You speak very bitterly.”
“Yes. For you see I range myself on the side of the hard-working,
capable ones. Don’t you know how I have spent these last four years?”
“No, no; do tell me,” said George, with a shrewd guess at her answer,
bending lower over her in his interest.
“I have spent them on the stage.”
“The stage!” echoed another voice.
They both started and looked round. Behind them, leaning against the
wall, not far from the door, was Harry, in his dressing-gown, pale,
heavy-eyed, sullen. He looked at his wife with fierce eyes and frowning
brows.
“So you are an actress! I don’t wonder you were ashamed to tell me how
you passed your time.”
“I was not ashamed, Harry,” said Annie, calmly, rising and going toward
him. “If you think I ought to be, you have only to say a word and you
shall never be troubled with me again.”
“You are in a great hurry for me to say that word, and, by Jove, for
once I feel inclined to please you! An actress! No wonder I find you
ready to listen to soft words from any man! No wonder the words from me
which used to set you blushing for pleasure can’t touch you now! You
are just a thing for everybody to look at--not a wife for me! Go away;
I would rather fall than that you should touch me!”
He was tottering, and his forehead was wet with weakness and passion.
He would not take George’s help, but staggered along by the wall to the
door. There the housekeeper met him, and Annie, standing still in the
middle of the picture-gallery, heard him say:
“Brandy, for Heaven’s sake, brandy, whether it is poison to me or not!”