THE END OF IT ALL
A woman who can prove herself generous and wide-minded is the woman
who gets the greatest advantage in every circumstance of life.
"How is it," said Regina, "that she is here with you?"
The words dropped out one by one. There was a world of torture and
suffering, tinged with reproach and bitterness, in Mrs. Whittaker's
tones. Alfred Whittaker gave a great start, and drew his wife down to
her seat.
"Queenie," he said, "you haven't had it in your mind that that creature
is anything to me?"
"I'm afraid I have," said Regina, and under the comfort of the word
"creature" her voice took a softer tone.
"That mixture of fire and vulgarity! Oh, my dear!--Come, come, you've
been traveling all night, you must have your breakfast. Here is the
finest omelette in Paris. I say, waiter, _garcon_, try if you can't get
madame a few strawberries to follow the _bifteck Chateaubriand_.--I'm
sure, Queenie," he went on as the waiter whisked the cover off and
betook himself away, "that a good breakfast is more important to you at
this moment than even the state of my morals. You see, I've had my
breakfast, so you can hear all about Madame Raumonier while you are
taking yours. Now, what could have put it into your head, since you knew
I was over here on her business--"
"But I didn't," said Regina.
"Then what made you come?"
The omelette was good and hot, and Regina took two mouthfuls before she
answered.
"Alfred," she said, "this has been going on for a long time. I know
everything."
"Then you are a clever woman. Now, what do you know?"
"You bought her a bracelet."
"I? I've never bought a bracelet for anyone but you in my life."
"Well, Templeton told me so."
At this Alfred Whittaker burst out laughing. "I did buy a bracelet, you
are quite right, but it was for Mrs. Chamberlain."
"You gave a bracelet to Mrs. Chamberlain?" said Regina.
"No, no, no, I didn't do anything of the kind. I bought the bracelet for
Chamberlain to give his wife. Chamberlain had been in an extremely ugly
corner for some time past. I didn't tell you anything about it, because
I thought it more than likely that Mrs. Chamberlain might come round
pumping you. If you didn't know anything, I felt you wouldn't be able to
tell her anything."
"Surely you might have trusted me?"
"It isn't that I couldn't trust you, for I can and always have done. As
it happened, Mrs. Chamberlain was, as you know, by way of being an
heiress, and Chamberlain was ridiculously in love."
"Can a man be ridiculously in love?" put in Regina.
"Yes, very much so. When I married you I told you everything that had
happened to me, good, bad and indifferent--Chamberlain didn't, and Mrs.
Chamberlain is possessed of a demon of jealousy. She got fixed in her
silly little head that Chamberlain had been a sort of King Arthur until
she met him. A moment's reflection would have told the silly little fool
that the less she inquired into her husband's past the better, and
Chamberlain was so much in love with her, and in such a hurry to catch
the little heiress, that he did not completely sever ties that he had
contracted previously, and trusted to luck to go on shelling out to this
Frenchwoman who had had an affair with him lasting some years before his
marriage. The French lady did not like being put on short commons, still
less did she like being pensioned off, and she began to make herself
unpleasant. Poor old Chamberlain got himself into an awful muddle, and
confided everything to me. I thought him a fool, and I told him so very
plainly; but he's my partner, and I couldn't refuse to help him out. The
day that I went to Templeton's and bought that bracelet, Chamberlain
went in quite a different direction to have an interview with Madame
Raumonier and try to bring her to reason. At that time Mrs. Chamberlain
used to make stringent inquiries as to how he had spent every moment of
his time. As a matter of fact she had come to the office for him that
very day, and was told that he had already gone. When he got home she
was told some necessary and harmless lies to the effect that he had been
to Templeton's to buy her a bracelet. Heaven only knows what would have
happened if she had found out that Chamberlain had never been near
Templeton's."
"But why were you dragged into it?"
"Oh, I was trying to get a settlement."
"Why did you bring her to Paris?"
"Well, it was like this. Chamberlain and I finally agreed between
ourselves that the only way to get a settlement of the affair was to
provide Madame Raumonier with an income sufficient to live upon for the
rest of her life. He didn't grudge that, he's not a mean man, and he
offered to settle five pounds a week upon her on one condition: that she
cleared out of England and never crossed the Channel again."
"Oh, I see. But why did you have to come to Paris to settle that?"
"My dear child, Madame Raumonier is no fool. She had no notion of being
cut adrift from Chamberlain and left stranded at her age--she must be at
least five-and-thirty--without the certainty of a provision being made
for her. I took her out to dinner one night--dined at the Trocadero--"
"Yes, I saw you," said Regina.
"What!"
"I was there."
"You were dining at the Trocadero the night I took Madame Raumonier
there?"
"I was."
"And you never told me!"
"No, Alfred, I never told you." Regina finished the last bit of omelette
with relish, and sat back in her chair and waited for the rest of the
story.
"You never told me!" repeated Alfred. "You cooked it up--you mean to
tell me that you thought I was dining with her on my own account?"
"What else was I to think?"
"Who were you dining with?"
"I was not dining with a gentleman, at least not by myself," said
Regina. "Julia and I were dining with Maudie and Harry."
"And they saw--?"
"They did."
"And they thought--?"
"They did."
"That I was dining on my own with that creature! I never felt so
insulted in my life."
"Insulted, Alfred?"
"Insulted, Queenie. When I take to dining ladies on my own, they shall
be women who are something to look at. Damn it all!" he went on, "I've
been accustomed to taking a smart woman about. This creature wasn't even
amusing, and what's more, she's the least French of any Frenchwoman I
ever came across in my life."
"Well, go on. You were telling me--?"
"Oh, I don't know what I was telling you--I don't know what I was
telling you. Oh, well, I know, I was telling you about dining her at the
Trocadero. Yes, she was willing enough to have the settlement, she was
willing enough to go back to her beloved France; she hated London and
everything in it--didn't know why she ever left sunny France. But like
all Frenchwomen, she was a woman of business, and she didn't mean to
leave go her hold upon poor old Chamberlain unless her settlement was
perfectly secure. My dear, if she had been a lawyer fifty times over she
couldn't have been sharper at her job."
"I don't blame her," said Regina, "I never blame a woman for getting the
better of a man."
"Yes, I know, my dear, you always held that opinion. But the long and
the short of it was that she would accept nothing but a definite
settlement in Paris, and I can tell you, even when you come over with
the money in your hand, it's not such a simple matter as it would seem
to arrange a bit of business in this land of liberty, equality and
brotherhood. From the way these people have spun it out one would have
thought that I was getting something out of them, instead of making an
ample settlement on one of their countrywomen. And the funniest part of
the whole thing has been that every one of them thinks that Chamberlain
and I are one and the same person. Gad! You thought so too! My dear,"
putting his hand on the papers again, "this is the final note; this will
be signed this afternoon; I shall hand Madame Raumonier bank-notes for a
hundred pounds, and then I shall wash my hands of her altogether for
good and all."
For a moment Regina did not speak, but applied her attention entirely to
the very excellent _bifteck_ on her plate. Then she looked up at her
husband with penitent eyes.
"Alfred," she said, "I really feel I ought to apologize to you."
"Apologize?" said Alfred, "apologize? Nay, if any apology is needed it
is from me to you for having apparently given you cause for uneasiness;
but, thank God! Queenie, there is no need of apology on either side.
There's been a little misapprehension, but it's all over now, and we are
as much together again as we were when we set out on our honeymoon. Did
it make you very miserable, Queenie?" He laid his hand on hers as he
spoke, and Regina looked up at him with shining eyes.
"I've been so miserable, Alfred," she said, "that I almost wished I
could die, and I think I should have died or put myself out of the
road--or something--if I hadn't resolved to win you back at any cost."
"But you are satisfied now?"
"Satisfied! Oh, I'm so happy--so happy. I'll never let such a cloud come
between us--next time I'll tell you the very first suspicion that
crosses my mind."
"There isn't going to be a next time," said Alfred. "Poor old
Chamberlain! he's come to the end of his tether now."
"Alfred," said Regina, after a long pause, "I don't think I would waste
any pity on 'poor old Chamberlain'; it seems to me that he has met with
more than his deserts. If I have any feeling of pity for any of the
three it is for the unfortunate Frenchwoman who trusted him where he was
not fit to be trusted. These people in the hotel thought I was going to
spring a mine upon you; I saw the landlady frown at the waiter when he
said you were breakfasting together. I have always been a wide-minded
woman, Alfred, and I am a very happy one this morning. Let us ask Madame
Raumonier to join us to-night by way of celebrating the settlement of
her affairs."
For a moment Alfred did not--indeed, could not--speak.
"Queenie," he said, "I have always admired you, I have always loved you,
but this morning, at this moment, I feel that, compared with you in your
benevolence, your real wide-mindedness, I am a mere worm."
"My noble Alfred!" said Regina, "my noble Alfred!"
THE END
LOVE AND THE
SOUL HUNTERS
By John Oliver Hobbes
_Author of_ "_The Gods, Some Morals, and Lord Wickenham_," "_The Herb
Moon_," "_Schools for Saints_," "_Robert Grange_," _etc., etc._
In this new novel Mrs. Craigie (John Oliver Hobbes) has made, according
to her own statement, the great effort of her life. It is the most
brilliant creation of an author whose talent and versatility have
surprised readers and critics in both Europe and America for several
years. It treats of unique examples of human nature as they are, and not
merely as they ought to be. Swayed by complex motives, they are always
attractive, but often do what is least expected of them. The story is
graphically told, and is full of action. Each personage is distinctively
drawn to the life.
"There is much that is worth remembering in her writings."--_Mail and
Express_, New York.
"More than any other woman who is now writing, Mrs. Craigie is, in the
true manly sense, a woman of letters. She is not a woman with a few
personal emotions to express: she is what a woman so rarely is--an
artist."--_The Star_, London.
"Few English writers have so lapidarian a style of writing as Mrs.
Craigie, and few such a capacity for writing epigrams."--_The Toronto
Globe._
_12mo, Cloth. $1.50_
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers
NEW YORK & LONDON
A BRILLIANT SATIRE ON MILITARISM
CAPTAIN JINKS, HERO
By Ernest Crosby
A satirical novel based on the military history of the United States
since the outbreak of the Spanish War. It is a smiting denunciation of
militarism and the military spirit, and a biting burlesque on cheap hero
worship. The parallel between savagery and soldiery is unerringly drawn.
It is full of wit and sarcasm.
_The Philadelphia Item_, March 8: "It is the best bit of satire that has
seen the light for years. It is more than clever: it is brilliant. Its
sarcasm is like pointed steel, while its humor is of the most rollicking
order. In fact, it is hilarious with fun, while its pungency in satire
is remarkable for keenness, and for the incisive way in which every
point is driven home."
_Worcester Spy_, Worcester, Mass., March 9: "Beard's illustrations are
equally clever and original, the best that he has ever made. As a
collection of cartoons alone the book should make a hit."
_Twenty-five Clever Drawings by Dan Beard. 12mo, Cloth. Ornamental
Cover. Price. $1.50, post-paid._
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK & LONDON
_St. Louis Globe-Democrat:_ "It is a simple, gentle, quietly-humorous
narrative, with several love affairs in it."
UNDER MY
OWN ROOF
By Adelaide L. Rouse
_Author of_ "_The Deane Girls_," "_Westover House_," _etc._
A story of a "nesting impulse" and what came of it. A newspaper woman
determines to build a home for herself in a Jersey suburb. The story of
its planning is delightfully told, simply and with a literary-humorous
flavor that will appeal to lovers of books and of the fireside.
Before the house-building details are allowed to tire the reader, a love
story is begun, and catches the interest. It concerns the home-builder,
an old flame, and an old friend, the third of whom has become a
next-door neighbor. With this romance are entwined a number of heart
affairs as well as warm friendships.
The style is bright, and the humor genial and pervasive. The "literary
worker" and the "suburbanite" particularly will enjoy the book. Women of
culture everywhere should appreciate its delicate style.
Illustrations by Harrie A. Stoner. 12mo, Cloth. Price, $1.20, net;
postage, 13 cents.
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK & LONDON
THE HOUR-GLASS STORIES
_A Series of Entertaining Novelettes Illustrated and Issued in Dainty
Dress._
Small 12mo, ornamental covers. Illustrated. Price, 40 cents per volume.
Postage, 5 cents.
I.
THE COURTSHIP _of_ SWEET ANNE PAGE
By Ellen V. Talbot
A brisk, dainty little love story incidental to "The Merry Wives of
Windsor," full of fun and frolic and telling of the courtship of Sweet
Anne Page by the three lovers: Abraham Slender, the tallow-faced gawk,
chosen by her father; Dr. Caius, the garlic-scented favorite of her
mother; and the "gallant Fenton," the choice of her own wilful self.
II.
THE SANDALS
By Rev. Z. Grenell
A beautiful little idyl of sacred story about the sandals of Christ. It
tells of their wanderings and who were their wearers, from the time that
they fell to the lot of a Roman soldier when Christ's garments were
parted among his crucifiers to the day when they came back to Mary, the
Mother of Jesus. The book exhibits both strength and beauty of literary
style.
III.
THE TRANSFIGURATION _of_ MISS PHILURA
By Florence Morse Kingsley
_Author of_ "_Titus_," "_Prisoners of the Sea_," _etc._
An entertaining story woven around the "New Thought," which is finding
expression in Christian Science, Divine Healing, etc., in the course of
which Miss Philura makes drafts upon the All-Encircling Good for a
husband and various other things, and the All-Encircling Good does not
disappoint her.
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK & LONDON
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors;
otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the
author's words and intent.