A LOVER'S QUARREL
Dr. Crossett looked at his friend anxiously and found, as he was
prepared to find, that the Doctor seemed nervous and depressed, but
when, after a few moments, Lola left them together, he was hardly
prepared for the look of shame and humiliation he saw on his face.
"You sent for me, Martin," he said, trying to show in his voice the
deep sympathy and friendship that he really felt.
"Paul," the Doctor answered, after a moment's hesitation, "the money I
borrowed from you is gone! Gone! and not for the purpose for which you
loaned it."
"I made no condition, Martin. The loan was my own suggestion. I am not
a poor man, and all that I have is at your service. It is not worth
the tragedy in your face. With the fame that your discovery will bring
to you, you can easily repay me. Come!" He put his arm affectionately
over Dr. Barnhelm's shoulder. "Let's say no more about it. Just tell
me of your work. It must be only a few days now before you demonstrate
before the Medical Society."
"To-morrow night," replied the Doctor. "I have remedied the flaws in
the construction of my apparatus, and Saturday Karn & Co. promised to
deliver the new machine. They sent me a bill for eight hundred
dollars. I"--he stopped, his face flushed with shame; then recovered
himself with an effort--"I was unable to pay the amount, and
they--they refused to give me credit."
"But, Martin," Dr. Crossett spoke gravely, "your life's work was
depending upon the delivery of your apparatus in time for
demonstration to-morrow. Surely you should have set aside that sum, no
matter what else you sacrificed."
"I was selfish enough," replied the Doctor, "to want my mind freed of
every care. I allowed Lola to persuade me to place all of the loan in
her hands. She knew that this bill was coming. Saturday I--I asked her
for the money, and--and she told me that it was gone."
"She had spent it?"
"Yes."
"How?"
The Doctor pointed, with a smile that almost brought the tears to his
friend's eyes, to the expensive furniture and rather elaborate window
hangings.
"I--I blame myself," he said quickly, as if to prevent any critical
mention of his daughter. "She is young, and she doesn't understand. I
had grown used to trusting her with everything. Why, Paul! In these
past years there have been times when I could not collect enough to
pay our rent, little as it was. Not once did I even have to tell her
of it. She always seemed to guess it for herself, and she would bring
me what I needed, saved from her pitiful little housekeeping
allowance, or earned by her teaching. All this selfish greed of
pleasure and luxury is new to her. I do not like it. It is not like my
girl!"
"Our fault," agreed Dr. Crossett. "We spoke too much of the great
success that was coming to you. It turned her head. Come, let us
forget it."
"Not yet, Paul; I want you to understand. I could not speak of her, as
I am speaking now, to anyone but you. When she first insisted upon
taking this apartment I knew that I did wrong not to forbid it, but
she was in a peculiar nervous condition--she seemed morbid and unlike
herself. I hardly dared to oppose her."
"And the change?" inquired Dr. Crossett. "Has it done her good?"
"I hardly know," the father answered, anxiously. "Her health seems to
be satisfactory. In fact, she never, even as a child, seemed to be in
such perfect physical condition, and yet----"
He stopped, seemingly unable to finish.
"It is the emotion," exclaimed Dr. Crossett, "the love. Young girls
before marriage often have serious nervous disorders. We must be
patient. There is no need to worry. Marriage will restore her old
poise. I speak with authority, Martin, for my practice has shown me
much of the delicate nature of these nervous disorders; there is
nothing here that need alarm you. Come! Tell me. When is this marriage
to take place?"
"I cannot tell. It was to have been very soon after her recovery, but
she has already postponed it twice. Young Dorris is almost out of
patience."
"Almost out of patience!" repeated Dr. Crossett scornfully. "A bad
mood in which to begin a lifelong companionship with even the best of
women. Come." He put his hand almost playfully on the Doctor's
shoulder and shook him gently. "Facts! Always stick to the facts. We
know her. She is a good girl. We love her. There is no more to say."
"If it is money she wants," exclaimed Dr. Barnhelm bitterly, "I will
make it for her. It isn't that I think anything money can buy too good
for her, but for her to be selfish."
"Hush," said Paul very tenderly. "She has no mother; we must remember
that. We are men, and we stand helpless before her womanhood, like
children in the dark. Now! We will say no more. We will go to the bank
to-day, while there is time. We will get that money, and to-morrow
night, before the Medical Society, you shall make your name big,
famous. Eh?"
"If I do," exclaimed Dr. Barnhelm gratefully, "I shall have you to
thank for it."
"She shall thank me, Martin. You will tell her that part of the silks,
and ribbons, and laces that you buy for her come from me. Eh? She will
love me then. Come."
Dr. Crossett allowed Dr. Barnhelm no time for remonstrance, but
insisted so firmly that they should go at once to the bank that he was
obliged to agree, and leaving a message for Lola that they would soon
return, they descended in the elevator and walked briskly down the
Drive, the Frenchman declaring that it was nothing short of a crime to
ride on such a day, and he kept up such a flood of cheerful talk and
happy reminiscence that, in spite of his deep humiliation, Dr.
Barnhelm soon found himself laughing merrily.
In the meantime things were not going smoothly in Lola's sitting room
in the apartment. John Dorris had for some hour or more been doing his
best to win Lola into a promise of an early marriage, and in spite of
his best resolution he found himself rapidly growing impatient.
"It is no use, John!" Lola spoke almost angrily.
"The more we talk of it, the less we seem to agree. I do not care to
be married before winter."
"This is the third time you have changed the date," remonstrated John.
"I am beginning to think that----"
"Well?" She interrupted sharply and with so much of challenge in her
manner that John had to curb his rising indignation as he replied.
"If I am not careful we will quarrel again, and we have done more than
enough of that lately."
"I am sure I can't help it, John, if you choose to be cross and
unreasonable."
"Has it all been my fault?"
"No, of course not," cried Lola, with one of the sudden changes of
mood that had so often puzzled him of late. "I have been perfectly
horrid, I know, and I won't be any more. Just forgive me,
John--and--and"--she looked up at him sweetly--"and kiss me, if you
want to."
John stooped and kissed her, and asked earnestly, "And we shan't
postpone the wedding again, shall we?"
"Only a little while, dear."
He turned angrily away, but she caught his arm.
"Now, John! Can't you trust me? Don't you love me enough to give me my
way in a little thing like this?"
As he stood rather coldly beside her, she suddenly threw both her arms
about his neck and clung to him. Much as he loved her there was
something in the utter abandon of her manner that shocked him, and for
a moment he tried to draw away, but her delicate-looking arms were
strong, and she clung all the tighter, laughing at his half-hearted
effort to escape.
"Am I so dreadfully ugly, John, that you can't bear to have me near
you?"
"Lola!" he exclaimed passionately, "what are you doing? What is it
that has changed you so? If you love me what reason have you for
putting me off with one foolish excuse after another? What is it that
you want?"
"I know that I ask a great deal, dear," she replied tenderly, "but I
want a love great enough for anything."
"My love is great enough, Lola," said John, as he once more tried
gently to remove her arms from about his neck. "Please don't try to
make it any greater until you are ready to return it."
She looked up again into his face and laughed at the cold expression
she saw there, then suddenly drew him close, her arms straining about
him, and kissed him, not as a young girl timidly kisses the man she
loves, but with the kiss of a passionate woman. He was a man, like
other men, and the man in him took fire in a moment, and he returned
her kiss and would have drawn her still closer into his arms, but with
a little low laugh she freed herself, and stepping back of the table
shook her finger at him playfully.
"Now, John! You mustn't be silly."
She laughed lightly, mockingly, as he stood there, already ashamed of
the sudden fierce feeling that had mastered him, and full of disgust
of himself for the physical passion that had for the first time
entered into any of his thoughts toward her.
"It is all right, John," she continued, feeling that she had him at a
disadvantage. "It is all settled. The marriage is postponed, but only
for a little, little while. Now run along, and come back late this
afternoon to see Dr. Crossett, and if you will promise to be very good
you may stay to dinner."
"I will, Lola, thank you," replied John, "but--but I wish you would
tell me what you are going to do this afternoon?"
"Why, I am going out."
"Not--Lola! You are not going to that Harlan woman's house?"
"Why, John! You know that you told me you didn't like to have me go
there?" She looked at him so innocently that he felt himself a brute
to continue, but he forced himself to go on.
"The woman is hardly respectable, and the crowd she has hanging around
her house are not proper acquaintances for a girl like you. I haven't
got over the shock of seeing you in that woman's carriage yesterday."
"Now, please," cried Lola impatiently, "please don't begin that all
over again. You have been scolding about that all the afternoon."
"But, if you have known this woman for months, why is it that you have
never spoken of her? Would you have spoken of her at all if you had
not known that I saw you with her?"
"If she is such a terrible person, how is it that you know her so
well?"
"Lola! I am a man. Men are different! Surely you must see that?"
"Why are they different? I am not a child. I am a woman! Why shouldn't
I have a little fun once in a while? Why should men have everything?"
"Do you call it fun to live the life that woman lives? You don't know
what she is; if you did you would rather stay shut up in this room as
long as you were alive than call yourself a friend of hers."
"John! You are absurd."
"No! I am not absurd. A girl like you, Lola, doesn't even know what
such women as that Mrs. Harlan are. It is your very innocence, dear,
that makes you so bold."
"I'm tired of being a fool." She spoke with a fierce impatience that
frightened him. "She is a woman, isn't she, made of the same flesh and
blood, living in the same world. Why should I avoid her? She is the
only person I know who cares for anything but work, and worry, and
duty! Life isn't all drudgery to her; she loves laughter, and
happiness, and gayety, and good clothes, and beautiful surroundings!
If that is a sin, then I am a sinner, too, and I'm glad of it."
"You don't understand, Lola."
"I want to understand! I must understand! I cannot, will not, go on
any longer like an ostrich, my head hidden, pretending not to see the
things that are all around me. If you love me you will help me, you
will stop this absurd pretence. You will help me to know what this
world I live in really is. I am warning you, John, just this once. If
you do not listen to what I am saying it will be your own fault; I
won't speak like this again."
"My dear," said John in much distress, "I want to help you. Surely you
know that. I am going to be your husband, and all our lives I am going
to stand between you and everything that is evil. I am going to do all
that a man can do to protect you from all the sorrow, and suffering,
and sin of the world."
Lola looked at him, as he stood before her, gravely, his fine young
face flushed with embarrassment and earnest with his strong intention
to do his best to make her life all innocent happiness. She looked at
him, and laughed, laughed so heartily, and with such real merriment,
that after a moment's indignation he was reassured. "Surely," he
thought, "everything is all right now; she is laughing at me because I
took her innocent girlish talk too seriously," and he resolved in
future to avoid such discussions; but because he was worried at his
discovery of her acquaintance with this really objectionable woman he
felt that he must not stop until he had secured an earnest promise
that she would avoid her as much as possible, so he continued. "Lola,
Mrs. Harlan's greatest friend, the man who has helped to give her a
reputation that a decent woman can hardly envy, is Dick Fenway."
She interrupted him angrily. "So! That is the explanation? Now, we are
getting the real truth. That is why I am to stay shut up here. That is
why I am not to go to my friend's house."
"Have you seen Dick Fenway there?" He was angry now himself, hurt by
her tone, and jealous of the thought of this man, whom he knew to be
unworthy of any decent girl's acquaintance. "Have you seen him there?"
he repeated as he turned away scornfully.
"Are you trying to insult me?" she demanded.
"I want an answer."
"No, I haven't seen him there."
"Have you seen him at all since the day he did his best to kill you?"
"No," she replied coldly. "I have not, and now, if you think that you
have hurt me enough, you may go, or are you anxious to accuse me of
anything more?"
"Lola," John began gravely, "I am sorry, but you have not been frank
with me. I had a right to ask you that question. I am glad that you
could answer it as you did."
"I hope, John," she replied, "that before our marriage does take place
you will have learned to trust me."
"Lola," he cried, remorseful, "I do trust you."
"No, John." She avoided him as he tried to put his arm about her.
"Please go now. I am not angry, but you have hurt me. I think that you
had better go. By to-night we will have forgotten it, or at least we
will try to forget."
"I must be a beast of a fellow," he said, quite convinced of his own
unreasonable temper. "I am always hurting you, and yet I never mean to
do it. Forgive me, Lola. I will try to do better after this."
He tried to kiss her, but she drew herself away, and he had to leave
her, although his heart ached and he felt that between them each day
that passed was bringing a more complete misunderstanding. He had done
his best; once away from the witchery of her presence he was sure of
that, but the old confidence, the sweetness of perfect understanding
had already gone. His nature was a generous one, and he tried to
convince himself that the fault must be his, but how? In what had he
failed? He could not answer, but once more he made up his mind to be
patient and tender. He knew little of women, but if their natures were
more complex, their moods more uncertain, he could only do his best to
try to understand. Of one thing alone he was sure, as sure as he was
of his own life, her perfect loyalty, her real purity, and, after all,
was not that enough? What right had he to ask for more?
[Illustration: MRS. HARLAN IS A STATELY CHAPERON FOR LOLA.]
As the door of the apartment closed behind him, Lola, without a
moment's hesitation crossed the hall to the telephone, and with a
glance over her shoulder, to be sure that she was alone, she took down
the receiver and called "2164 Rector." After a moment she was
answered, and she asked quietly, "Is Mr. Fenway there? Yes, Mr.
Richard Fenway."
She stood there smiling to herself until she heard his voice at the
other end of the wire. "Hello," she said gayly. "This is Lola. I have
changed my mind, Dick, about that ride. I am very much bored to-day,
and I have decided to go with you, if you are sure you really want
me."
"You know how much I want you," he answered ardently. "Or, if you
don't know, I'll tell you. I am all alone here just now, and I'll
never have a better chance."
"I wouldn't trouble myself if I were you," continued Lola, "and
perhaps you may have fully as good a chance this afternoon; anyway, I
am perfectly sure that Central is laughing at you, and I don't at all
blame her."
"All right," he answered. "I'll call for you in an hour."
"Oh, no," she retorted. "You know you must not come here. John and
father would have a fit. Meet me at Mrs. Harlan's at three, just three
o'clock exactly, for I will have to be back by seven."
He started to tell her how delightful he was at the prospect of her
company, but as he spoke the door bell rang and she cut him off
without warning and turned away as Maria opened the door from her
kitchen and started down the hall.