JAQUELINE.
"I thought I should never see you again."
It was almost dusk of the short day, as it had been cloudy and was
threatening a storm. Roger had overtaken Jaqueline on her homeward way.
"How many days has it been?" turning a smiling face to him. "I have
sold all my tickets, and I had meant to keep two for you. Come home to
supper with me. Of course you know what has happened! Patty acts as if
no girl ever had a lover before. It is amusing."
Her light tone angered him.
"Walk a little ways with me. I have something to say to you."
He drew her hand through his arm and strode on. She braced herself for
a storm.
"What--down to the marsh? The frost is coming out of the ground, and we
shall be swamped."
That was true enough. He turned suddenly.
"Let us go home. It looks like rain. I believe I felt a drop on my
face," she began.
"Not until I have said my say," in a resolute tone of voice.
"Jaqueline, I cannot have this manner of going on. It is very unjust
to me, and you will not be the more respected by parading Lieutenant
Ralston's devotion to you when you have an acknowledged lover."
"His devotion to me? Why, everybody knows--at least, we all know----"
"That figment is only a cover for flirting."
"But--he is your friend." Her tone was quite resentful, and her temper
was rising.
"_Was!_" with emphasis. "But this shall no longer be a cover for you.
You choose between us. If you like him so much better----"
"Roger, he has never uttered a word of love to me." She stopped short
in indignation.
"Oh, no! He has some lingering remnant of honor. But you will see how
soon he will ask you to marry him when I have given you up."
Given her up! There was a white line about her mouth, and her eyes
seemed to hold the depth of midnight.
He had not meant to utter the words, though they had been in his mind
for days. At the first inception of such a suspicion he had said he
would never give her her liberty and see her married to another man,
and then as he had seen her dispensing her smiles to a group of young
men and bending her dainty head first to one and then to another, as if
what the present speaker was saying was of the utmost moment, a curious
revulsion of feeling swept over him. Yes, let Ralston take her, with
all her love for the admiration of everybody! Perhaps he did not care
for one supreme love.
She was silent from sheer amazement. That any man who was her real
lover should talk of such a possibility stung her to the quick.
"Jaqueline, I cannot go on this way," and his voice dropped to a softer
key. "I want all the tenderness of the woman I love, and some of the
attention, I must confess. If she cares for me I do not see how she can
be continually occupied with others. You give me just the fragments.
You make engagements, you go out without the least thought that I
might have something in view; you have put off our marriage from time
to time, and now you must decide. If you love me well enough to marry
me----"
"Out of hand!" She gave a scornful little laugh. "I thought it was
a girl's prerogative to appoint her own wedding-day. I will not be
hurried and ordered about as if I had no mind of my own. I will be no
one's slave! I will not be watched and suspected and lectured, and shut
up for fear someone will see me!"
"Jaqueline!"
She was very angry now, and it seemed to her as if she had a curiously
clear conscience. She had not expected to stay at the Bradfords' until
just after dinner, but there were still some points to settle, then
someone proposed the ride. Ralston had not remained to dinner, and had
not gone out to Mount Pleasant with them, but a servant had been sent
in with several invitations for gentlemen. Impromptu parties were of
no infrequent occurrence among young people. Jaqueline did not know of
the invitations until after the messenger had been sent; and from some
oversight no one had mentioned Mr. Carrington.
She could have explained this. But when she glanced at the erect
figure, the steady eyes, the set lip, he looked so masterful. She was
used to her father's easy-going ways, and Ralston's persistence in the
matter of Marian had a heroic aspect to her. If Roger was so arbitrary
beforehand, what would he be as a husband! She forgot how many times
she had persuaded him from the very desire of his heart.
"It is just this, Jaqueline--I am tired of trifling. If you do not care
to marry me, say so. I sometimes think you do not, that you care for
lovers only, admirers who hover about continually, glad of a crumb from
a pretty girl. I am not one of them. You take me and let my attentions
suffice, or you leave me----"
She had an ideal of what a lover should be, and he looked most
unlike it in this determined mood. Why, he was almost as arbitrary as
grandfather!
"Suppose I do not care to be hurried by a fit of anger on your part? If
you had asked an explanation like a gentleman----"
"I do not want explanations. You take me or leave me. I have danced
attendance on you long enough to no purpose."
"I certainly shall not take you in this dreadful temper!"
"Very well." He turned slowly. If he really cared for her he would not
go. She stood dignified and haughty. Of course he would come around,
for if he truly loved her he could not face the future without her. But
the door shut between them.
It was very ungenerous for him to be jealous of Ralston, and foolish of
him not to like her part in the little play. She was not the heroine
who had two lovers adoring her, but a pretty maid who had made her
election and was pestered by someone she did not care for, and the
story turned on her quick wit in extricating her mistress from a
dilemma. Ralston was the lover to whom her sympathies went, and the one
her mistress secretly favored.
Mrs. Carrington came over that day to take the girls out for a drive
and to try to persuade them to come over for a Sunday visit. She
congratulated Patricia warmly on her prospects.
"Perhaps we shall have a double wedding," with a soft, motherly smile.
"Oh, don't plan for that!" ejaculated the elder girl with a shiver.
"Grandmamma did, you know, and such misfortunes happened."
"But it would be lovely!" Patricia exclaimed longingly, wondering at
her sister's vehemence.
"And you think you cannot come?" Mrs. Carrington said as they drove
back to Mrs. Jettson's. "It would be such a great pleasure to us all!"
"We have a Saturday-night engagement at the Hamiltons'," Patricia
replied. "And Sunday there are to be some guests to dinner."
"And the play Monday evening," added Jaqueline in a voice she tried to
keep steady.
"I don't wonder you two girls have delightful times and are full of
engagements," said the elder woman with a smile of admiration. "But my
turn will come presently. Good-by, my dears."
Jaqueline felt confident she should meet her lover at the Hamiltons',
but she did not. Sunday passed without him.
"Whatever is the matter?" inquired Patty.
"A little lovers' tiff," and Jaqueline gave an airy toss of the head,
with a rather disdainful smile.
"You never do mean to quarrel with Roger Carrington!" exclaimed Patty
in surprise.
"It was of his own making."
"Jack, now that I have a lover of my very own, I don't see how you can
be so fond of--of other men. You haven't treated Roger at all well."
"I won't be called that detestable _Jack_! And I am not man-crazy!"
"No, they are crazy about you. I shouldn't think Roger would like it.
No lover would stand it."
Jaqueline made no reply.
Monday there was a rehearsal, and Jaqueline remained to tea. There
was a very enthusiastic audience, and the play was charmingly acted.
Of course Roger was there, and chatted with Patricia and the doctor.
Jaqueline in her heart acted for him alone. She was so eager and
interested in furthering Margaret Bradford's love for Lieutenant
Ralston that she thought he must see how frankly and freely she could
relinquish him. But Roger, knowing that Margaret Bradford had a real
lover, looked at it from a different point of view.
"Will you give my congratulations to your sister?" he said to Patricia,
rising, as the curtain fell for the last time. "There is some important
business at Mr. Monroe's, and I am to be there at ten."
"Are you not going to stay to the supper?" Patty cried in surprise. "I
know Jaqueline expects you."
If she had sent ever such a little note to bid him come! But she had
made no sign.
Then Jaqueline Mason was very angry. She would not believe any man
actually in love could so hold aloof. It was an insult! And while her
passion was at white heat the next morning she penned a sharp note of
dismissal. He should not plume himself upon having given her up.
Mr. Mason came to Washington according to agreement, and was very well
satisfied with his prospective son-in-law.
"But do not go on too fast," he advised. "Matters look squally ahead.
And if we should have war----"
"It will hardly invade us, when there are more important cities open
to attack. And I cannot really think it. As the capital of the nation
we must plan and build for the future. L'Enfant planned magnificently;
it is for us to carry it out. And we younger men, who have not had our
tempers so tried with all the disputes, will continue it with greater
enthusiasm. It must be the grandest place in the whole country."
Mr. Mason smiled thoughtfully.
"I hope it may be. We had a hard fight for it in the beginning. I want
the wisdom of our choice apparent."
"It will be the city of my adoption, and I shall bend all my energies,
and whatever money I can spare, to its advancement. Having won my wife
here, it will always keep a charm for me. I should like to be married
as soon as is convenient. Patricia will be very happy here, I am sure."
Patricia was a fortunate girl, her father thought. Fathers had their
daughters' interests at heart in those days, when there was time to
live.
"What is this?" he asked of Jaqueline on the morning of their
departure, holding a brief note before her eyes. "You don't mean that
you have dismissed Mr. Carrington?"
Jaqueline flushed deeply, then turned pale. For a moment it seemed as
if her tongue was numb with terror. Had he really accepted her desire
without a protest? Was it her desire?
"There was--oh, I cannot tell you now! Wait until we get home," she
pleaded.
"But he says--it is your wish! Jaqueline, my child, you never could
have been so foolish as to throw over a man like that!"
"Oh, papa--don't, don't! When you hear all----" and she clasped her
arms about his neck.
"I can't imagine him doing an ungentlemanly act. And if you have
learned anything to his detriment--there are malicious tongues, you
know. Yet I cannot bear to think you were to blame."
The girl was silent, and swallowed hard over the lump of condemnation
in her throat. For she had thought he would offer her some opportunity
to rehabilitate herself. She could not believe she had given such
bitter offense. It seemed to her that she would have forgiven almost
anything to Roger. Suppose he had wanted to take part in a play with
a girl she had not liked? But, then, he and Ralston had been warm
friends. Roger went to places where she was not acquainted, at the
houses of some of the senators. The Monroes invited him. Yes, he met
some very charming women at dinners. But she knew she held his inmost
heart, as far as other women were concerned. And why could he not have
the same trust in her?
Dr. Collaston treated it as a mere lovers' tiff. "They will make up
again," he said to Patricia. "And no doubt we'll be married at the same
time. Carrington is a fine fellow."
For the first day Patricia's affairs occupied everybody, to the
farthest slave cabin. Big and little wanted a peep at Miss Patty's
lover. Comparisons were drawn between him and Mr. Carrington, and a
doctor was looked upon as something rather uncanny. But he soon made
himself a favorite.
Mrs. Mason was consulted about the wedding.
"What are Jaqueline's plans?" she asked.
"I must get to the bottom of that matter," the father remarked with a
sigh. "Something has happened between them."
"And we all like Roger so much."
It was a fine day in early spring, with the breath of new growing
things making the air fragrant. Jaqueline was walking with Annis and
telling over the pretty ways and whims of the Jettson baby, and how
fond the boys were of their little sister.
"Jaqueline!" called her father.
"No, don't come with me, dear. I'll be back in a few moments."
Annis sat down on a flat stone where a bit of trailing moss dropped
from a tree, swinging to and fro. She amused herself trying to catch
it. And then she heard a voice raised in tones that were not pleasant.
Without exactly meaning to make it harder for her sister, Patricia had
admitted that Roger had some cause to find fault. Jacky had been very
much admired, and she had not paid due attention to Roger. There had
been something about the play, but she didn't think Jaqueline cared any
more for Ralston than for half a dozen others. From it all Mr. Mason
gathered that his daughter had not been blameless.
To break an engagement without excellent reasons was considered very
reprehensible. A girl might have lovers by the score; and though she
might lay herself open to the accusation of flirting--this was easily
forgiven. But when one's word had once been passed, it was the sacred
honor of womanhood, and to break it left a stigma not easily overcome.
To Mr. Mason, with his strict sense of justice, this was a severe blow.
He had been proud of Jaqueline going back into the Carrington family,
and her warm welcome from both ladies. Dr. Collaston had a much larger
fortune and was of good family, but the Carringtons had some of the
proudest Maryland and Virginian blood in their veins, heroes who had
made their mark, women both brave and beautiful. And there was no doubt
but that Roger would make some sort of a high record and be called upon
to fill an important position.
"You have been a foolish and wicked girl!" he said angrily to his
daughter. "You have disgraced yourself and us, and broken up a lifelong
friendship just to gratify a silly vanity and a spirit of contumacy
that is despicable in a woman! I am sure Roger had some rights in the
case. If he had come to me I should have appointed a wedding-day at
once. And now you will be the laughing-stock of the county."
That was the mortifying point. Patricia would be married before her,
with a great flourish of trumpets. She felt almost as if she would
make some effort to recall Roger. But that brief note to her father,
explaining that he had given her her liberty because she wished it,
being quite convinced it was better for them to separate, seemed to cut
off every avenue of promise.
"Father is awful mad at Jaqueline," said Varina to Annis. "He's scolded
her like fun! And she isn't going to marry Roger. The slaves say when
the eldest lets her sister get married first that she will have to go
and dance in the pigpen. Do you suppose she will?"
"No, she won't!" exclaimed Annis indignantly. "And I'm sorry. Poor
Jaqueline!"
"Oh, you needn't be sorry! Jack can get ever so many lovers. But I'd
like them both to be married. They're always saying, 'Run away, Rene,'
or 'Go get this and that,' when they know you can't find it. And Patty
is going to live in a beautiful big house in Washington, ever so much
bigger than Aunt Jane's, and she will give balls and parties and go to
Mrs. Madison's every day. I mean to coax papa to let me live with her."
That was all very grand. Annis liked Dr. Collaston, too. Patty had
grown curiously sweet, and everybody was coming to wish her happiness.
Jaqueline was evidently in disgrace. Even grandmother, who came down to
spend a few days and hear the plans, read her a severe lecture. Mrs.
Mason was sorry, for she felt in her heart that Jaqueline cared more
for Roger than she admitted.
But the sympathy from little Annis was the sweetest. She had a way of
patting Jaqueline's hand and pressing it to her soft cheek, of glancing
up with such tender eyes that it moved the elder's heart inexpressibly.
There was a world of excitement on the old plantation. Madam Floyd had
been married there in grand state and dignity, but "Miss Cassy" had
missed a wedding in her youth, and now that one of the household, born
under the roof-tree and reared among them all, one of the true "chillen
at de big house," was to be wedded with a gay bevy of bridesmaids and
an evening of dancing to bridal music, the whole place was astir. Dr.
Collaston would wait no later than June.
"After all," declared Patty, "much of the work can be done afterward.
The house will not be finished until August; meanwhile we shall stay
wherever we can, and spend a month at Bladensburg. So there need be no
hurry about anything but gowns." The doctor had ordered some things
abroad, for, although duties were high and the risks great, vessels
came and went in comparative safety.
Immediately upon the adjournment of Congress Mr. Monroe decided upon a
visit to New York, ostensibly on his wife's account, who had been the
famous Miss Kortwright of that city. Political matters were kept in the
background. It was known that there was an undercurrent at work for De
Witt Clinton as the next occupant of the Presidential chair. Mr. Monroe
determined to visit several of the larger cities, and Roger Carrington
was glad of the opportunity to go away. Ralston had been sent with a
corps of engineers to examine the defenses of several important points.
Jaqueline was relieved, and yet strangely disappointed. Did Ralston
know that he had been considered a sort of marplot? Yet when Carrington
went carefully over the ground, he thought if there was any fault
between them it really was Jaqueline's appropriation of the young man.
Mrs. Carrington had been deeply disappointed; but, mother-like, she
blamed Jaqueline for the trouble. The answer to Patricia's wedding
invitation had been a brief note in which Madam and Ralph joined her in
congratulations. The elder lady was now quite an invalid, so it would
not be possible for them to leave home.
Jaqueline felt curiously bewildered in those days. At times she decided
that she really hated Roger for his jealous, overbearing disposition,
and was thankful she was not to be his wife. Then a wave of the old
love and longing would sweep over her. Would a line from her bring him
back? But he was quite wrong about Ralston.
So there was a grand wedding, and young and old were invited, with
numerous guests from Washington. Annis and Varina brought up the rear
of the bridesmaids, with Charles and a neighboring lad, dressed in the
pretty French-court style.
"You are more beautiful than the bride," said Charles gallantly. "When
you are married you must be dressed just that way."
It was a summer of gayety, and there were times when everyone allowed
Jaqueline to forget her naughtiness, and she almost forgot it herself.
Louis came home crowned with honors and very proud of his success, and
pleased Patricia by his admiration of her husband.
"How tall and pretty Annis is growing!" he said to her mother. "But
try to keep her a little girl, and let Rene have full swing first and
marry off. Though I shall rather pity her husband, her temper is so
capricious. Annis is sweetness itself. She seems to be the peacemaker
always."
"Don't flatter her too extravagantly. I think you all torment Varina so
much that it makes her irritable."
"Varina and Charles bicker constantly. Charles must go to school next
year and get the nonsense shaken out of him. Varina ought to try it
too. There is a very excellent girls' school at Williamsburg, and
a little of Aunt Catharine's discipline would do her good. We are a
rather lawless set, and you have been very kind to us."
"I have not found any of you troublesome," and the stepmother smiled
upon her tall son. "Charles is anxious to go away now."
"He is a smart, queer chap, and will be a professor of some kind. At
present he is simply omnivorous; it makes little difference what, so
long as he learns. And I really did not like to study."
"You have given your father a great deal of pleasure by your
perseverance," she said sweetly.
Varina was jealous that both brothers should haunt Annis so continually
and be so ready to plan pleasures for her. She quite decided now that
Annis might marry Charles.
"And if no one marries me I shall go and keep house for Louis in
Washington," she announced.
There was a houseful of grown people one afternoon, when Annis took
her sewing and went down to the creek to a shady spot the children
were very fond of. Louis had made a kind of swinging seat with a wild
grapevine, and it was a favorite haunt of hers, though when she found
Varina in it she never disturbed her or disputed her claim. Charles
often sat and read to her.
"Do, Rene, go away or find something to do!" exclaimed Jaqueline
presently, when the younger had been especially tormenting. "You are
worse than a gadfly!"
"There's no one to amuse me. I don't care for those folks on the porch
talking politics."
"Then go down to the quarters and set the darkies to dancing or order
up Hornet."
"I don't want to ride alone. It was mean in Charles to go off without
saying a word."
"Papa sent him over to the Crears' on an errand."
"I wouldn't have spoiled the errand."
"I am going down to listen to the politics, and learn who will be next
President."
"Then I'll hunt up Annis."
Jaqueline hoped Annis had gone wandering in the woods. But Varina went
straight to the retreat. Yes, there was Annis swinging in her shady
nook with a very slow movement that did not hinder her from sewing
on her strip of gay embroidery. And Charles sat on his horse in his
delicate, high-bred manner. They all said he resembled the old courtier
in the parlor.
The little creek purled over the stones, crooning its way along. The
air was sweet with innumerable fragrances, the sunshine veiled with
a soft haze that deepened the shadows all about. Charles enjoyed the
brooding atmosphere and the picture Annis made. His horse had taken a
few steps in the creek and quenched his thirst, and now seemed enjoying
the fine prospect.
Varina made her complaint at once.
"I didn't want you to go with me," he answered. "Papa had nothing to do
with it."
"Oh, you might have made me Jack at a pinch, if Annis could not go."
"I didn't ask Annis. And I didn't want any pinches," laughingly.
Varina roamed up and down, interrupting the talk. Charles had stumbled
over his brother's copy of Shakspere, that had opened a new world to
him. Louis laughed a little at his enthusiasm, but Annis never laughed.
"I mean some day to go and see all these places," he was saying. "You
know, they are real places, and some of the people were real people.
Perhaps they all were. Varina, don't you splash the water over Annis."
Varina had picked up a slender dead branch, and was beating up waves in
the little creek. The spray went quite a distance.
"No matter," said Annis. "A little water doesn't hurt. But tell me, did
they really put out Prince Arthur's eyes? How could they be so cruel?"
"I don't see how you can take an interest in such people. You're always
talking about wars and all manner of terrible things."
Varina brought her stick down with emphasis. Sam had been stepping
softly about the edge of the creek, the cool water laving his hoofs. He
had not minded the sprinkling on his sides, but this gave him a drench
in the face. He threw up his head and turned to walk out. Charles had
dropped the bridle rein, but Sam was gentle enough. As he reached
the edge he stepped on a rolling stone, stumbled, tried to regain
his poise, but both horse and boy went over. Sam righted himself in a
moment, but Charles lay quite still.
"Oh, if you have killed him!" cried Annis.
Varina was white with an awful fear, too much alarmed to make a sound.
It was Annis who flew to his side. She bathed his face and head with
her handkerchief. Sam came and looked on with a human expression in his
eyes. Charles stirred and sighed.
"Oh, he isn't dead!" cried Annis joyfully.
"No, I'm not dead." Charles sat up, wincing a little. "What happened?"
Varina pushed Annis aside and knelt down with her arms around him. "I'm
so sorry!" she began. "But that little douse didn't make Sam stumble.
What can I do? Shall I run up to the house for anything?"
"Just help me up. No, I haven't any broken bones. Be thankful for that,
Rene," and the boy tried every limb. There were twinges in his back
and a queer, half-dizzy feeling in his head. "I'll be all right in a
moment."
Sam seemed to feel reassured, and went to cropping the sedgy grass.
"There, don't cry, Rene. It wasn't all your fault. Sam trod on
something that rolled--a stone, I think."
"And I do love you so--ever so much more than you love me! And it gives
me a heartache to see you all take in Annis and crowd me out."
Varina began to sob.
"I don't mean to crowd anyone out," declared Annis in a tone that
sounded as if it came over tears. "And you all have a part of my own
mamma."
"Annis is so good and sweet, and ready to give up any point, and you
want always to take things whether or no. Perhaps you'll grow up like
Jaqueline or Patty, and Patty's awful sweet to everybody since she's
had a husband. There, don't cry any more; I'm not killed. I'll sit here
and rest a little. And, Rene, if you would only give over tormenting
people when they tell you to stop!"
Varina was still a good deal alarmed. She could see Charles' white face
without a bit of color in the lips as he lay on the ground. He was pale
still, as he leaned back in the swing.
"And, Rene, you will never, never get a husband unless you do change.
You'll be a cross and queer old maid, and not one of us will be willing
to have you about. And you can be real nice."
"Oh, don't scold her so!" Annis went and clasped her arms about
Varina's neck. "She is going to be sweet and good because nothing
dreadful did happen. God, you know, kept it from happening. And when
one is very grateful one tries hard to do one's best. Sometimes I think
you don't love Rene enough, and it makes her hurt and sore."
Then the children made resolves all around, and Charles walked between
the girls up to the house. If the making up could only last!
"Don't say a word about it," he cautioned them. "Father would make a
fuss." Then he turned and kissed Varina, a caress he seldom offered
her.
"I'm going to try, I really am. But it is so hard not to be loved."
"But we do love you," declared both in a breath.
The trouble was they loved each other as well. And she wanted to be
loved best.