WARY AND PATIENT
As a rule, especially in the greater issues of life, little or
nothing is to be gained by precipitancy.
During the rest of the dinner Regina made a valiant effort to appear as
thoroughly at ease as if the portly gentleman down below was no kith or
kin of hers. When she had once pulled herself together and realized the
worst, she became the life and soul of the table, and Regina, mind you,
was a woman of intellect, a woman of wit, when it pleased her to exert
herself in that respect. She did not again allude to the fact that her
husband was dining under the same roof as herself, until they made a
move, intending to go to the theatre. Then Maudie, who was not endowed
with much tact, demurred at leaving without making their presence known
to her father.
"I must go and speak to daddy," she said.
"Nothing of the kind," said Regina in a fierce whisper, "nothing of the
kind; I absolutely forbid it. Harry, you will back me up in this?"
Her tone was one of anxious entreaty, and Harry Marksby, who had been
rather a gay dog in his very young days, although always tempered with a
large amount of common-sense which had saved him from getting into a
hole, took in his mother-in-law's meaning at a glance.
"No, you can't go downstairs now, my dear," he said, giving her a
vigorous nudge with his elbow, and Maudie, without in the least
understanding, took the hint and said no more. "We'll meet you at the
theatre," he added.
So presently Regina found herself sitting in a hansom with Julia beside
her.
"I say, mother," said Julia, as the cab started from the doorway, "that
was a little awkward, wasn't it? And how silly of Maudie! I really
thought she had more sense."
"Not one word of this to your father," said Mrs. Whittaker in the same
tone of fierce repression. "You children are quite mistaken, I
understand it perfectly. You will not speak to your father of our having
seen him? He would not be able to explain the circumstances to you."
"Oh, certainly, not if you don't wish it, darling. You'd better tell
Harry to give Maudie warning because she's sure to blab it out. Who is
she?"
"I don't know what her name is," said Regina; "she is a person your
father has some business with--business connected with the firm," she
added, with a dexterity of explanation which astounded even herself. "I
have known of her existence for some time; your father has been almost
worried out of his life about it, and it would worry him much more if he
thought you children misconstrued his actions."
"Oh, well, I suppose daddy is perfectly at liberty to do as he likes as
long as he makes matters clear to you. We have no right to dictate who
he shall take to the Trocadero to dine."
"My dear child--my precious child--" said Regina almost breaking down,
but recovering herself with a snap as it were. Then she went on in the
same fierce tone, "I shall not forget this, Julia, my darling; one can
always rely on you in a moment of emergency, Maudie has not half your
sound common-sense--she's a feather head compared to you."
"Oh, she'll be all right. You tip Harry the wink--"
"What!"
"Oh! I beg your pardon, mummy, I forgot. Shall I tell Harry to stop
Maudie blabbing?"
"I wish you would. You might explain to him a little. Now, here we are,
here we are, now don't let us speak of it again; it's all much more
simple than you children think."
Now it happened that on the way down to the theatre, Harry Marksby had
given Maudie a hint, or, as Julia would have put it, tipped her the
wink, to say nothing whatever about what had occurred.
"I don't understand why," she had replied. "Why should daddy be dining
with that bold-looking woman when mother thought he was dining with a
friend at the Criterion?"
"Well, you can't tell. As long as your mother doesn't want it spoken of,
it's no business of ours. Now, hold your tongue, Maudie darling; I rely
upon you not to say a word, you'll only upset everybody's apple-cart if
you do."
"Well, I'm not likely to say anything against my own father. All the
same," said Maudie, with the suspicion of a pout, "I do think that
father ought to feel it incumbent upon him not to disgrace us in public
places. If he was only dining with a friend why couldn't I go and speak
to him--I'm his own child? And if he was dining with somebody he
wouldn't like to take home--"
"And you can bet your bottom dollar he wouldn't," said Harry.
"Then I think he ought to give an account of himself."
"Oh yes, I know, that's justice, man's justice. Come, come, come, Mrs.
Harry Marksby," said Harry in a tone of cheerful warning; "and here we
are at the theatre. Now, don't say a word to your mother, she's upset
enough, poor old lady."
Now, as Mrs. Whittaker had dined the little party, it became Harry's
pleasing duty to give them supper, and from the theatre they went to a
certain fashionable supper-room, again by means of a couple of hansoms.
This time it was Julia who shared the hansom of her brother-in-law.
"Now, look here, Harry," she said, "for goodness' sake don't say
anything about having seen daddy to-night."
"Why, what do you take me for? Do you think I was born yesterday--or the
day after to-morrow?"
"But mother says she knows all about it, and that it's much more simple
than we think, and she thinks that Maudie will go blabbing it out."
"Oh, that's all right, I have given her a hint already. At the same
time, I think your father ought to--well--ought to make things a little
more secure."
"Yes, I know, but he had not the least idea that we were dining out
to-night; it was quite an impromptu arrangement and daddy might be vexed
if Maudie said anything to him about it--'We saw you dining with a lady
the other night'--you know, that sort of thing."
"Is he--um--um--"
"What do you mean by um--?"
"Is he touchy?"
"Oh no, take him all round he is the most amiable person I know; but
there are limits to every man's patience, and if daddy is bothered with
the firm's business, as mother seems to imply, it might vex him;
besides, mother doesn't wish it mentioned, and that's enough; he's _her_
husband."
"And, Julia," said Harry Marksby, as they drove up to the door of the
restaurant, "if every woman was as wise as your mother, there wouldn't
be much domestic broiling to worry the world." And then he jumped out
and held out his hand for Julia to alight.
Regina behaved admirably at this juncture; she kept it up, she made a
very good supper; but then, you know, that was one of Regina's excellent
qualities; when in tribulation her appetite did not fail her. Finally
Regina and Julia drove down to the nearest station on the district
railway and took train for the Park. They found Mr. Whittaker already
come in.
"Well, dearest," he said, as they rustled into the dining-room where he
was sitting reading, "you never told me you were going to galavant."
"No; for, you see, we took it into our heads that we would go to a
theatre, and then Harry and Maudie gave us supper at the Golden
Butterfly afterwards. We have had a great time, haven't we, Julia?"
"A great time," said Julia. "I like a little supper after a theatre, it
always seems so dull, bundling out and scrambling off to one's train.
And how long have you been home, daddy?"
"Oh, ever so long; I got home before ten. And what theatre did you go
to?"
Regina explained, and Alfred mixed her a little whisky-and-soda, and
Julia said she would go to bed, for she was dead beat, and so on; and
still Regina said nothing beyond throwing out a feeler in order that her
husband might confide anything to her if he wished to do so.
"You got through your business, Alfred?"
"Yes--yes, yes."
"And brought it to a successful issue?"
"Well--I can't exactly say that, but I have put things in train." He
gave a short angry sigh, as if he were vexed with himself and the world
in general.
It was on the tip of Regina's tongue to ask where he had dined. Perhaps
if she had done so an explanation would have taken place between them
and her mind have been set at rest; but a certain delicacy overcame her
as if she, in dining at the Trocadero, without giving her husband due
warning of the fact, had committed an indiscretion. So she simulated a
fatigue which she was far from feeling and she went off to bed, followed
two minutes later by Alfred, who declared himself to be tired out, and
it was not until Regina found herself in bed in the dark, with her
husband sleeping the sleep of the--shall we say?--just, beside her that
she gave herself up to reviewing the situation. Well, "hope deferred
maketh the heart sick." It may be so, but certain it is that Regina's
heart was very sore and sorry that night. Hope was deferred no longer,
uncertainty had become certainty; she knew the worst! She had seen the
hussy! It was beyond her understanding to know why Alfred could have
allowed himself to be entangled by such a creature--so common,
attractive only with a common attractiveness, pretty only in a common
type of prettiness; young, yet not blooming. He had not looked happy; he
sighed in his sleep.
"What shall I do?" said Regina to herself. "Tell him? No, no; never,
never own for one instant that I have the smallest knowledge or
suspicion that my husband is shared by a creature like that."
She lay awake for hours during that night, and when the first faint
streaks of morning came struggling in at the window, she had come to the
conclusion that he was unhappy in that relationship, that he had been
entangled and that freedom would be infinitely precious to him.
"I must work hard at my task of supplanting such a person," she told
herself, "I must be wary and wily and sweet, and must make myself
attractive. Alfred has been most attentive to me since I went to Madame
d'Estelle, and since Clementine made my hats for me and Florence
rearranged my hair. I must be wary and patient, always wary and
patient, give him no excuse for wanting to go away from home, give him
no sense of rest in any other place than under his own roof. It will not
be easy--no, it will be most difficult. Poor fellow! he's so set on
keeping faith with me that he even resents any little thing that I do to
change myself. I hate that woman! Yes, I have never hated anyone in my
life as I hate that woman!"