A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES
Frederick Graves had just left Tess at the shanty door. He had found it
difficult to explain away his conduct on the evening of the musicale at
Waldstricker's.
"It were awful," sobbed Tess, after Frederick had mollified her anger
somewhat. "I wanted to die! Ye looked like some big man I didn't know 't
all."
"Silly baby," laughed the student. "There were so many people there who
know my mother--" He paused and kissed the upraised, tearful face
passionately. "I didn't think you'd care. I supposed of course you'd
understand. I'm awfully sorry you didn't. You'll forgive me, darling,
won't you?"
Tess snuggled nearer him. She wanted to forget how unhappy she'd been.
"Sure, I don't care now,--such a awful lot," she sighed.
Later in the evening, when he came into the hall of his home in Ithaca,
he was greeted by his young sister, Babe.
"Fred," she called softly, "come on up, mother wants you."
For some minutes after taking off his hat, he remained in the lower hall
considering just what to say to his mother. Shaking his head dismally,
he mounted the stairs and went reluctantly to the front room. He hated
scenes with his mother. He hated everything about the house, hated even
the thought of going back to school. He wanted to take Tess away from
the lake--make a home for her--to be with her always. How dear she had
grown day by day since he'd married her! His very being fired at the
memory of her clinging sweetness.
When he opened his mother's bedroom door and walked self-consciously
forward to turn up the light, a fretful voice from the bed halted him.
"Fred, if you're going to make the room bright, please bring the screen
forward."
He dropped his hand from the gas jet.
"It doesn't matter," said he, sulkily, and he moved to the foot of the
bed. "Let it stay as it is.... Babe said you wanted me."
Mrs. Graves settled her glasses on the bridge of her nose and looked at
him.
"Yes! I did tell her to send you in. What's the matter? Anything?"
"No." The answer was brutal in its curtness.
"You've been with that Skinner girl again." The woman sat up in bed and
exclaimed angrily. "I can tell by the way you act."
A sudden fury took possession of the student.
"Of course, I haven't been to Skinner's," he contradicted roughly.
"Didn't I tell you I wouldn't go and see her any more? What do you want
now?"
Relieved by his words in spite of the ugly way in which they were
uttered, Mrs. Graves sank back on the pillows. "Sit down," she invited.
He was too nervous and angry willingly to grant even so small a request
just then.
"I can listen as well standing here," he answered crossly.
"But I can't talk as well when you stand," insisted Mrs. Graves,
peevishly. "Frederick! What's happened to you since your father died?
That squatter girl's turned your head. I know it. She's completely
spoiled you."
Tessibel and all her girlish sweetness came vividly across the boy's
mind. It was ridiculous to blame Tess. Ah, if he were as good as Tess
desired him to be, his life would be the most exemplary.
"Please leave her name out of it, will you?" he rasped rudely. "Even if
I can't see her, I won't hear anything against her."
Mrs. Graves sat up in bed, throwing back wisps of gray hair, that
persisted in falling over her nose.
"Oh, you won't, eh?" she shrilled loudly. "Well, now, you listen to
me.... You'll hear what I please to say to you, young man. It's a good
thing you don't go to Skinner's any more. It's time you were interested
in a decent girl. You've got to marry sometime. It's just as easy to
love a rich girl as a poor one. Why don't you propose to Madelene
Waldstricker?"
"Madelene's all right, I suppose," the boy answered "but I don't want to
marry her."
"You better want to," his mother rejoined tartly. "You've got to do just
that very thing."
"You're crazy, Mother. I won't do it. What do you take me for, anyhow?
Get that idea out of your head and keep it out."
"If your father were here, you wouldn't dare to say such things to
me.... I want you to sit down, do you hear?"
Frederick dropped into a chair wearily. The time had come to tell his
mother that Tessibel Skinner was his wife. After that was done, there
could be no such arguments. He started to speak, but his mother
interrupted him.
"Madelene Waldstricker's wild over you," she explained. "You can't deny
you've shown her open attention, at the same time you've been stealing
down to that Skinner girl's hut.... Oh, don't deny it any more! But
Madelene doesn't know very much about that, and she has lots of money.
It's your duty to Babe and me."
"I won't marry her, or anyone else," Frederick repeated.
His voice was very low but every word was distinct.
Mrs. Graves lifted her pillow, turned it over, patted, and sank back
upon it.
"Why?" she demanded, searching his face with accusing eyes. "Because of
that fisherman's--"
Now he would tell her; now he would explain! He coughed, took out his
handkerchief and wiped his lips.
"I shouldn't think you'd say anything against Tessibel Skinner," was
what he said at last, "considering what she did for us."
Mrs. Graves uttered a scream, and covered her face with her hands.
"Now throw that in my face, will you?" she cried. "Can't you let me
forget my shame and disgrace? Can't you see that girl coming into my
life would bring constantly before me my daughter's downfall and death?"
Her voice was tragic, and Frederick's heart always had been tender
toward his mother. He saw as vividly as if it had happened but yesterday
Teola dying in the church. It had been such a dreadful experience for
all of them. Frederick had never doubted for one moment that that
terrible ordeal had been the cause of his father's death. He went
quickly forward and slipped one arm about her shoulders.
"I'm sorry, mater," he murmured. "There, forgive me!--There!--Don't
cry!... Now don't get nervous--the doctor said you mustn't cry."
Mrs. Graves shivered in the strong arms.
"I've reason enough to cry," she whimpered brokenly. "You won't do
anything to help me, and you're the one who should."
"I'll go to work," he said eagerly. He sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I'm tired of college anyway!"
"Go to work!" echoed his mother. "What could you do? You wouldn't get
ten dollars a week. Nor anything like it. You haven't any profession,
and what is there in Ithaca to do anyway?... Oh, if your father'd only
lived!"
She broke into a fresh burst of tears.
"Hush, please, dear," said Frederick, smoothing back the grey hair. "Go
on and tell me what you want. There, see, now, I'm listening."
Mrs. Graves used her handkerchief vigorously.
"I said I wanted you to marry Madelene Waldstricker," she responded in
ruffled tones. "You've but to ask her, and she'll jump. Babe says she
talks of you all the time, and is frightfully jealous of you."
A fair, lovely face, glorious glistening brown eyes, and shrouding red
curls passed between Frederick's vision and his mother's face, and he
groaned.
"Don't! I said not to talk of Tess."
"But I can't help it," snapped Mrs. Graves. "I've got to tell you about
Madelene, haven't I? You must ask her now.... She's staying here
tonight."
Frederick withdrew his arms from under his mother and dropped his face
hopelessly into his hands.
"Oh, God, help me!" he groaned between his fingers. "I can't do that,
Mother! I can't!"
A tender hand went out slowly and touched him. He lifted his face with a
sharp gesture and grasped his mother's fingers in his.
"Don't ask me to do that, oh, don't, darling mater, don't!" he moaned.
"Anything else--I'd do _anything_ else."
The feminine fingers closed over the masculine ones.
"I must ask you, my son," insisted Mrs. Graves, gently. "It's the only
hope I have.... I've kept so many things from you, but now I'll tell you
why. The lake place is mortgaged to Ebenezer Waldstricker for more than
it's worth, and I've borrowed a lot of money from him and from
Madelene."
Frederick's hands fell from his face.
"Good God! My God!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Why didn't you tell me
before?"
"I couldn't--I couldn't, Fred, but now you see why you must do this for
all our sakes. I haven't any money at all only what they let me have.
Babe and I won't have any place to go if you don't help. Oh, Fred, you
will think of it, dear, you will?"
The boy got up feeling as if something worse than death had happened to
him. He saw no way out.
"Yes, I'll think of it," he temporized.
Mrs. Graves sank deeper into her pillow and closed her eyes with a long
sigh. Frederick said no more, but turned quickly and went out of the
room.
He staggered downstairs like a drunken man. He ought to have told his
mother he was married to Tessibel Skinner. He couldn't marry any other
woman!... How could he, when he was already married--married to the
sweetest girl in the world? Oh, to get away somewhere to think quietly!
To get something to stop the throbbing in his head! This new horror
facing him was more than he could bear. He'd go back now and tell his
mother he was married to Tess.... No, he'd wait until morning! He opened
the library door and stepped in, crossed the room slowly and drew down
the curtain. Turning, he saw a girl rise from the divan. Madelene
Waldstricker reached out two rounded arms with an impatient gesture.
"Ah, you've come," she said, smiling into his eyes.
Frederick gazed at the small girlish figure curiously. The new interest
in her awakened by the talk he'd just had with his mother, contended
with the image of Tess in his mind--radiant, loving, splendid Tess.
He walked to the table and feigned interest in a book.
"I've been with my mother," he said hesitatingly.
"Yes, I know," asserted Madelene, coming to his side, "and she's awfully
ill, isn't she?"
"More nervous than anything," replied the boy, impatiently.
"The doctor told your sister and me this afternoon she must have perfect
rest if she ever recovers," explained Madelene. "He says she ought to be
in a good health resort.... I wish I could help her."
"She tells me you have," blurted Frederick.
"But not so much as I'd like to," Madelene assured him softly.
There was deep sympathy in her voice, and Frederick looked at her
critically. This small brown girl had taken on new significance to him.
She had come into his life suddenly as a large part of it, that
deadening financial part that tied him hand and foot and made him feel
like a galley slave. But he could never marry her, never! He belonged to
Tessibel Skinner by all the rights of Heaven and earth. He studied the
eager girl again--for so long a time that she dropped her lids,
blushing. Truly, Tess and Madelene formed a strange contrast--his bride
with the red gold of her curls and eyes holding him a willing captive,
and this bright-eyed, brown-skinned, little creature, before him with
that eloquent, calling appeal of money for his mother.
Never before had he thought any one could for any reason whatever come
between him and Tessibel Skinner. He did not concede it now in its
fullness, but Madelene was looking pleadingly into his face and had
spoken of his mother with tender sympathy. He suddenly reached out and
took her hand. He would tell her of his young wife. He would take her
into his confidence right then, and all would be well for them
both--and for Tess.
"Listen, Madelene," the boy said earnestly. "I have something to say to
you."
At the touch of his fingers, Madelene went white and swayed toward him.
Her head fell forward on his chest, and his arms closed around her, as
if to keep her from falling. Of a sudden, a flushed face was lifted to
his, and a smile flashed around a rosy mouth.
"Oh, I'm so happy, oh, so happy!" whispered pursed lips.
And Madelene sighed as she dropped her head against him once more. For
the moment Frederick's mind went blank, but the girl's voice drew him
back.
"Oh, I was afraid you loved that girl who sings in the church," she was
saying. "I've heard so often you did. I just couldn't bear the thought
of it, Frederick. Your mother and Babe kept telling me you didn't, but I
suppose I was a little jealous."
She laughed and snuggled nearer him. But a short hour before another
girl, the girl he adored, his wife, had been in the same tender
position. He was so dazed that for the moment he could not find words
for an answer. Then slowly he led her forward to the divan.
"I want to talk to you," he ventured hesitatingly.
"Oh, I love to hear you talk," Madelene babbled with joy.
Frederick flushed. He'd have to tell her of his marriage with Tessibel
before she really admitted anything that would afterwards make her
sorry.
"What I've got to tell you is very serious," he said at length. "You'll
listen to me, Madelene?"
Five small fingers touched his lips.
"Nothing is serious now," came the interruption, "not now that I know
you love me. It's all I want in the world to make me supremely happy,"
and she sighed.
Frederick shuddered. Why, he hadn't told her he loved her! He was as far
from loving her at that moment as the very stranger on the street.
"But it's something you must know," he thrust in desperately.
"I know what it is," averred the girl smiling. "I know all about it....
It's just money, that horrid old money your mother borrowed of brother
and me.... But what does money matter? I've lots of it, bunches of it,
and more than enough for us all, and so has Ebenezer."
Frederick shook himself impatiently. She must listen while he explained
the impossibility of their ever being anything to each other.
"I couldn't take--"
"I'm not asking you to take anything but me," laughed the girl. "Just
me, see? There, dearest! Now don't talk of anything disagreeable
tonight. I just want to be happy."
And like a contented, purring kitten, she once more settled herself
against him. Somehow Frederick couldn't tell her of Tessibel just then.
The right moment had come and gone. In the morning he would! By the
light of the day it would be easier. Then he would explain everything to
her and his mother.
"Put your arms around me," whispered Madelene.
Thrusting Tessibel from his mind, he drew the little figure close into
his arms.
"Kiss me," she breathed, and two hours later, when Frederick Graves shut
his bedroom door, he had promised to marry Madelene Waldstricker.