RONALD'S VIEWS OF MARRIAGE
Mrs. Howard was trying to sew, but seemed to lack the necessary
energy. The Lieutenant paced the room in his favourite attitude--hands
crossed behind his back--and gave her his views upon various topics,
from the mistakes of the War Department at Washington to the criminal
mismanagement of Captain Franklin. He became so interested in this
last subject that he spoke as if addressing a large audience, happily
unmindful of the fact that his single listener was preoccupied.
"Upon my word, Kit," he was saying, "there isn't a man in barracks who
wouldn't make a better Captain than the one we've got."
"His wife is coming," remarked Katherine, impersonally.
"I don't care if she is. Somebody ought to tell him where he stands in
the estimation of the officers and men."
His disapproval of his superior officer was reflected in his cool
response to Mrs. Franklin's cheery greeting when she came in with her
sewing. "I've got something for you," she said to Katherine; "guess
what it is!"
"I couldn't guess--what is it?"
"A letter," she answered brightly, "from Doctor Norton! You aren't
jealous, are you?" she asked playfully, turning to the Lieutenant.
He made no reply, but gnawed his mustache nervously. Katherine's face
blanched as she took the note and tore it open with trembling hands.
There was neither date, address, nor signature. "I understand," it
began, "and everything is all right. I beg of you, do not distress
yourself about me, and, if I can ever serve you in any way, command
me."
The words danced before her eyes as the Lieutenant approached and held
out his hand, silently, for the letter.
"It's nothing that would interest you, dear," she said, tearing it
straight across.
"Pardon me, I think it would." He quickly possessed himself of the
note and fitted the two parts of the page together, laughing as he did
so. Only Katherine noticed that his voice shook.
"If you're through with it, I'll burn it," he said quietly, after
what seemed an age. Without waiting for an answer, he threw it into
the open fire and hurriedly left the house. Then something dawned on
Mrs. Franklin.
"Kit," she cried, "can you ever forgive me?"
"What did you think?" retorted Katherine, fiercely. "Would he have
sent a note to me if he had meant it for my husband? Why didn't he
come over instead of writing?"
"I don't know," murmured Mrs. Franklin. For the moment she was afraid,
and as the inevitable surmise forced itself into her consciousness,
she gazed at Katherine, horror-stricken and dumb.
"I know what you're thinking," said Mrs. Howard, with forced calmness.
"It's very charitable of you, but I'm glad to be able to tell you that
you're mistaken."
"You poor child!" exclaimed the Captain's wife. She slipped a friendly
hand into Katherine's cold one and was not surprised when the
overwrought nerves sought relief in tears.
Little by little, Katherine made a full explanation. "It's too small
and too silly to talk about," she sighed, "but I haven't been well
lately and the slightest thing will worry me almost past endurance.
I don't know what's the matter with Ralph--he is not at all like
himself, and that troubles me, too."
"Funny," observed Mrs. Franklin, irrelevantly.
"What's funny?"
"Men in general and husbands in particular. Wallace isn't inclined to
be jealous, so I've never had that to bother me, but he's as stubborn
as a mule, and I guess that's just as bad. Anyhow, I'd like to trade
his stubbornness for something else. I'd appreciate the change for a
little while, no matter what it was."
"I wouldn't mind that," said Katherine, with the ghost of a smile
hovering around her white lips. "I think I could get along better with
a stubborn man than I can with a savage."
"Be careful what you say about savages," put in the other, lightly;
"you know my aunt is a full-blooded Indian."
"I've often wondered about that. How do you suppose it happened?"
"It is rather queer on the face of it, but it's natural enough, when
you think it over. You know Captain Wells was stolen by the Indians
when he was a child and he was brought up like one of them. Even after
his people found him, he refused to go home, until his two sisters
came to plead with him. Then he consented to make them a visit,
but he didn't stay long, and went back to the Indians at the first
opportunity. Their ways were as impossible to him as his were to them.
I'm glad he married the chief's daughter, instead of a common squaw.
He and Little Turtle are great friends."
There was a long silence, then Katherine reverted to the original
topic. "I never thought of Captain Franklin as stubborn," she said.
"Didn't you? Well, I just wish you could talk to him a while after he
gets his mind made up. Before that, there's hope, but not afterward;
and you might just as well go out and speak to the stockade around
the Fort. He's contrary, too. Yesterday, for instance, he told me he
thought he'd have drill, as the men hadn't been out for a long time.
I asked him if some of them weren't sick, and he said they were, but
it wouldn't hurt the others any. Just then your husband came in and
suggested drill. 'Haven't thought about it,' says Wallace, turning
away, and the Lieutenant talked ten minutes before he discovered
nobody was listening to him. After he went away, George came in and
asked about drill. 'We won't have it to-day,' said Wallace, and that
was the end of it."
"Was he like that before you were married?"
"Yes, only not so bad. I mistook his determined siege for
inability to live without me, but I see now that it was principally
stubbornness. He made up his mind to get me, and here I am. He gets
worse as he grows older--more 'sot' in his ways, as your mother would
say. I don't see how anybody can be that way. He explained it to me
once, when we were first married, but I couldn't understand it."
"How did he explain it?"
"Well, as nearly as I can remember, he said that he dreaded to have
his mind begin making itself up. It's like a runaway horse that you
can't stop. He said he might see that he was wrong and he might want
to do differently, but something inside of him wouldn't let him. It
seems that his mind suddenly crystallises, and then it's over. A
crystal can be broken, but it can't be made liquid again."
"Is his mind liquid?" inquired Katherine, choked with laughter.
"No--I wish it was. I'm glad you're amused, but I'm too close to it to
see the fun in it. Wasn't your husband ever stubborn?"
"No; I don't think so--at least, I don't remember. I suppose he can't
help being jealous any more than the Captain can help being mulish. I
guess they're just born so."
"Marked," suggested Mrs. Franklin.
"Yes--marked. I hadn't thought of that. Before we were married, Ralph
was jealous of everybody who spoke to me--man, woman, or brute. I
couldn't even pet the cat or talk to the dog."
"Matrimonial traits," observed the Captain's wife, sagely, "are the
result of pre-nuptial tendencies. If you look carefully into the
subject before you're married, you can see about what you're coming
to."
"I guess that's right. I needn't have expected marriage to cure Ralph
of jealousy, but, like you, I supposed it was love."
"My dear," said Mrs. Franklin, with feeling, "many a woman mistakes
the flaws in a man's character for the ravages of the tender
passion--before marriage."
"Well, I never!" said a soft voice behind them. "Kitty and Mamie
talking scandal!"
Both women jumped.
"How did you get in?" demanded Mrs. Howard.
"Came in," replied Ronald, laconically.
"Don't you know enough to rap?" asked Mrs. Franklin, angrily. Like
others who have been christened "Mary," she was irritated beyond
measure at that meaningless perversion of her name.
"Did rap," answered George, selecting the most comfortable chair, "but
nobody heard me, so I let myself in."
"How dare you call me 'Kitty'?" exclaimed Mrs. Howard.
"Soldiers aren't afraid of anything except the War Department."
"How long have you been here?" they asked simultaneously.
"Don't all speak at once. I've been here a long, long time--so long,
in fact, that I'm hungry." He looked past them as he spoke and gazed
pensively out of the window.
Mrs. Franklin's cheeks were blazing and her eyes snapped. "You're the
very worst man I ever met," she said.
The Ensign sighed heavily. "And yet I've never been accused of
mulishness," he remarked, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, "nor of
jealousy," he added. His mouth was twitching, and the women exchanged
glances.
"I admit an enormous appetite," he continued. "Wonder if it's the
ravages of the tender passion?"
Mrs. Howard brought in a plate of cookies and set it ostentatiously
within his reach. "Lovely woman!" apostrophised George. "She feeds
me! Radiant vision, will you be mine?"
There was a dead silence.
"Queer, isn't it," observed the guest, between mouthfuls, and
apparently to himself, "that women should look so pretty when they're
mad?"
"Your wife will be pretty all the time, then," said Mrs. Franklin.
"I trust so. She'll have to have a good start at it, or she won't get
me, and with the additional stimulus which living with me will give
her, she'll be nearly as lovely as the wives of the other officers at
Fort Dearborn. I could give her no higher praise. These cookies are
all gone."
"I know it," replied Mrs. Howard. "I gave you all I had left."
"If I might presume," said Ronald, "I'd like the prescription they
were made by, to give to my wife, when I get one. I suppose it's more
in the making than in the prescription, and though I'll undoubtedly
like 'em, my native love of truth will oblige me to tell her that they
don't come up to those Kitty--pardon me, Mrs. Howard--used to make for
me. I always think of you by your first name," he went on. "I know
it's wrong, but I can't help it. You're so good to me. Isn't there one
more cooky?"
"No, there isn't."
"Your mother makes surpassing doughnuts. Did she ever teach you how?"
"Oh, yes," responded Mrs. Howard, coolly; "but I don't make them very
often. I haven't made any for months."
"I have the plan of 'em all written down, in case you should forget
how. I'm saving it for my wife. Can I go and look in the pantry?"
"No, you cannot."
"Why don't you get married, George?" asked Mrs. Franklin, by way of a
diversion.
"I've never been asked."
"Didn't you ever ask anybody?"
"Oh, Lord, yes! I've asked every girl I've ever met. Say, do you know
that I've got so now that I can propose off-hand, as easily as other
fellows can after they've written it out and learned it? If there was
a girl here at the Fort who suited me, I'd ask everybody to my wedding
inside of two weeks."
"Charming diffidence," murmured Katherine.
"Modest soul," commented Mrs. Franklin. "What kind of a girl would
suit you?"
"I like the domestic variety. The faithful kind, you know. One who
wouldn't gad all the time. Good cook, and that sort of thing."
"Some Indian girl"--began the Captain's wife.
"I know," interrupted George, pointedly; "that runs in some families,
but it never has in ours. Wouldn't mind an Indian aunt, maybe, after I
got used to her; but a mother-in-law--Lord!"
Mrs. Franklin was angry for an instant, then she laughed. It was
impossible for any one to harbour resentment against Ronald.
"I don't think I could ever love an ordinary girl," that intrepid
youth resumed, with a dare-devil light in his eyes. "She'd have to
be very superior. Lots of girls get married without any clear idea
of what it means. For instance, while I was working day and night,
trying to earn board and clothes for a woman, I wouldn't like to have
her trot over to her friend's house to discuss my faults. If that's
marriage, I won't enlist."
"You haven't any faults," put in the Captain's wife, sweetly. "There
would be nothing to discuss."
"True, Mamie, I had forgotten that. Thank you for reminding me of my
perfection. But you know what I mean. As soon as I got out of sight
of the house, she'd gallop over to her friend's, and her friend would
say: 'Good-morning, Mrs. Ronald, you don't look fit this morning. What
has that mean thing done to you now?'"
Throwing himself thoroughly into the part, the Ensign got up and
proceeded to give an elaborate monologue, in falsetto, punctuated with
mincing steps and frequent rearrangement of an imaginary coiffure.
Mrs. Howard clasped her hands at her waist and the tears rolled down
Mrs. Franklin's cheeks.
"And then she'd say," Ronald went on, "'Just suppose you had to live
with a mulish, jealous man who wouldn't give you more than nine
dresses and eleven bonnets and four pairs of shoes. Yes, that's just
what the horrid thing has done. And this morning, when I asked for
money to get a few clothes, so I could look more respectable, he gave
me some, but I caught him keeping back fifty-two cents. Now, what do
you think of that? Do you suppose he's going to take a lot of men out
and get 'em all drunk?'"
The entrance of Captain Franklin put an end to the inspired portrayal
of wifely devotion. As Katherine had said, he did not look stubborn.
On the contrary, he seemed to be the mildest sort of a man, for he
was quiet and unobtrusive in manner. His skin was very white, and the
contrast of his jet-black hair and mustache made him look pale.
"Did you tell them the news?" he asked Ronald.
"'Pon my word, Captain, I haven't had time. They've been chattering so
ever since I came in that I'm nearly deaf with it. You tell 'em."
"I don't know as you'd call it news," said the Captain; "but we can't
afford to ignore any incident out here. A Kickapoo runner has come
in from the Illinois River, and he says the pack-trains are about to
start from there and from the Kankakee, and that they will be here
soon."
"It's an early Spring," remarked Mrs. Franklin.
"I'm glad," said Katherine; "I love to be outdoors, and the Winters in
this lonesome little Fort are almost unbearable."
"What?" asked Ronald, "with me here?"
"Drill to-morrow," said the Captain, turning to his subordinate. The
Ensign saluted gravely, but made no reply.
The Captain lingered a few moments, listening while the others talked.
"Are you going home, Mary?" he asked.
"Yes, after a while. I'll go now if you want me to."
"No; never mind. I've got some things to see to."
"Now that," observed Ronald, as the Captain closed the door, "is what
I call a true marriage."
"In what way?" asked Mrs. Franklin.
"This deference to a husband's evident wishes. It might have happened
to me. Lonesome George comes into the sewing circle and his glad
eyes rest on the wife of his bosom. Talk to the crowd a little while
and get everybody to feeling good, even though I'm on the verge of
starvation. Then I say: 'Darling, are you going back to our humble
little home?' and she says: 'Yes, George, dear, when I get good and
ready--bye-bye!'"
Mrs. Franklin was eager to ask Katherine how much of their
conversation she supposed he had overheard, but he seemed very
comfortable where he was, and at last she folded up her work and went
home, the Ensign bidding her an affectionate farewell at the door and
extending a generous invitation to "come again."
"There, Kitty," he sighed, "at last we are alone. It has seemed so
long!"
Katherine turned upon him a look which would have frozen a lesser man
than Ronald. "Please call me Mrs. Howard," she requested, icily.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Well, some way, it makes me feel as if you were married, and I can't
stand it to be constantly reminded of my loss. 'Mrs. Lieutenant' is
better, 'cause I'm a lieutenant, in a way, myself, but it's too long.
I suppose I can say 'Mrs. Loot,' if you insist upon formality. I came
to you with a message, and that is why I have braved your unjust
wrath. Your mother sent me to ask you and your husband to come over to
supper. I've seen him and he's willing. She's been making doughnuts
all the afternoon, and I think there's a pie or two, so get your
bonnet and come along."
"Come along!" repeated Katherine.
"Yes, come along. I'm going, too."
"Does she know it?"
"I think she suspects it. If she doesn't, the pleasure will have the
additional charm of a surprise. There's the Lieutenant now. We'll all
go together."
They met on the parade-ground and she put her hand on her husband's
arm timidly, but he did not draw away from her as she had feared he
would, and she became intuitively conscious that he had determined to
say nothing about the unlucky note.
The sun shone brightly and the March wind swept the cobwebs from her
mental vision. Ralph said very little; but Ronald, who never required
the encouragement of an answer, talked unceasingly, and it seemed to
Katherine that the world was sunny and full of friends.