A LATE ARRIVAL
FRANK KENT returned unexpectedly from London early in the same
afternoon. He had not yet heard of Frieda's arrival, so that they at
once spent an hour talking together.
Lord Kent, as most men did, treated his sister-in-law as a very pretty
and charming young woman, who was not to be taken seriously. His wife
had told him of Frieda's difficulty with her husband, but not of the
cause. At that time she was not aware of it. Also she had instructed him
not to mention the prospect of Professor Russell's appearance in
England. So Frieda and Frank chatted and teased each other, as they had
since she was a little girl just entering her teens, but neither
referred to any unpleasant subject.
Lord Kent had seemed tired when he first came home and was disappointed
to find his wife absent.
After his conversation with Frieda he relaxed and appeared more cheerful
and good natured. This was the effect Frieda usually had upon masculine
persons. She was so gentle and pretty, and her eyes were such a clear
blue that one felt she could be easily influenced or persuaded. But the
truth was that Frieda was no more easily controlled than a kitten. If
ever one tries to train a little domestic animal, it will be discovered
that a dog is far more quickly influenced than a kitten. As a matter of
fact a kitten is probably the most unchangeable of all domestic pets.
Since the early afternoon the July day had altered. A soft rain had
begun falling, so that tea at Kent House was served in the library.
Olive, Frieda and Lord Kent waited half an hour later than usual,
thinking that Jack and Captain MacDonnell would return. Then they drank
their tea slowly, still believing that the riders would surely appear
before they had finished.
At half past five, when there was still no sign of his wife and friend,
Lord Kent got up and several times walked back and forth from his chair
to the big French window.
For the moment Frieda had gone out of the room, so that he finally spoke
to Olive.
"I suppose it is ridiculous of me, but I am always more or less uneasy
when Jack and Bryan go off for rides together. Jack is the most fearless
horsewoman in the world and Bryan the most all round, fearless man. He
has killed big game in Africa and India and Australia, traveled in the
Congo and in other equally uncivilized places. He never used to stay for
any length of time in England. Now and then I have an idea of forbidding
Jack to ride with him, I am so uncertain of what reckless thing they may
do together."
"Oh, I don't think you need worry, Frank," Olive returned, "Jack is
fearless but I don't think she has been reckless since the accident she
had when a girl."
Although she could scarcely speak of it, Olive was smiling to herself
over Frank's use of the word "forbid." She never recalled that any one
had ever forbidden Jack to do anything she wished so long as she had
known her. But probably Frank's forbidding was of the gentlest kind.
Olive felt she must remember that the English attitude toward marriage
was not the same as the American, although when an Englishman marries an
American girl they are supposed to strike the happy medium.
Entering the room again just as Frank concluded his speech, Frieda was
even more startled when she recalled that the use of this very word had
been one of the reasons for the most serious quarrel she had ever had
with her husband. Henry had never used the word a second time.
Another hour passed. Still Jack and Captain MacDonnell had not returned.
Moreover, by this time the rain had become a steady downpour. Olive and
Frieda were also uneasy.
"If you will forgive my leaving you, I believe I will go and see if I
can find what has become of the wanderers," Frank suggested. Then,
without further explanation or discussion, he went away.
Ten minutes later, mounted on his own horse, he was riding down the
rain-washed road. He had found that the groom, who had accompanied Jack
and Captain MacDonnell, had gotten separated from them and returned home
half an hour before.
Frank was uncertain whether he were the more angry or uneasy. It seemed
impossible to imagine what misfortune could have befallen his wife and
friend, which would have made it impossible for them to have either
telephoned or sent some message home. Yet it was equally impossible to
conceive that Jack would be so careless as to forget every one else in
the pursuit of her own pleasure. Even if she had been uncertain of his
arrival from London, there was Olive, who had been her guest only a few
days and Frieda not twenty-four hours. But as a matter of fact Jack had
known he would be down sometime during the evening although she did not
know the hour.
July is one of the long twilight months in England. Nevertheless,
because of the rain, the evening was a kind of smoke grey with the
faintest lavender tones in the sky. A heavy mist was also rising from
the ground, so that with the falling rain one could not see many yards
ahead.
Lord Kent's plan was to leave word with his lodgekeeper at the lodge
gate to follow after him in case any word came from Lady Kent, or if she
returned home before he did. But a moment or so before reaching the
lodge, while yet in his own avenue, although at some distance from Kent
House, Frank heard laughter and low voices. There was no doubting the
laughter was Jack's.
Frank pulled up his horse abruptly and stood still. The oncoming
figures were walking and leading their horses instead of riding. That
instant, because he was no longer uneasy, Frank discovered that he was
angrier and more hurt than he cared to show.
All at once he overheard Jack say:
"Do hurry, please, Bryan; I'm afraid everybody at home may be uneasy."
But instead of hurrying, they must have stopped again. For the second
time Jack murmured, "I don't see how I could ever have been such a
wretch, or how I'll ever confess to Frank."
Then Captain MacDonnell's inquiry:
"What are you going to say?"
And his wife's answer:
"Why, tell the truth and face the music; what else is there to do,
Bryan?"
In the past few years since his marriage, undoubtedly Frank Kent had
either altered or simply developed. Sometimes it is difficult to
determine which one of these two things a human being has done. Frank
had always been quiet and determined. If he had been otherwise he would
never have tried for so many years to persuade Jacqueline Ralston to
marry him. But now that he had grown older, he certainly appeared
sterner. He seemed to have certain fixed ideas of right and wrong, and
they were not broad ideas, to which he expected at least the members of
his own household to conform.
The two wayfarers were now in sight and Frank dismounted.
"I am sorry to have been compelled to play eavesdropper," he said
curtly, when they also caught sight of him.
Jack was soaked with rain and her boots and riding habit were splashed
with mud. A little river of water filled and overflowed the brim of her
hat. But her cheeks were a deep rose color and her grey eyes dear and
shining.
Frank would never have confessed that he felt a slight pang of jealousy
at the good time his wife and friend must have been having, while he had
been making himself miserable with the thought that a disaster had
befallen them.
Jack's hand was resting on the nose of her horse, while Captain
MacDonnell held the bridles of both.
"You have come out to search for us, haven't you, Frank?" Jack began
penitently. "I am sorry; I did not know you could have arrived from
London so soon." She was now close beside her husband. "The truth is,
Frank, I have had rather a horrid tumble. For a person who thinks she
knows how to ride, I seem to do the stupidest possible things."
"You don't seem to have hurt yourself seriously, Jack," Frank answered
grimly. For in spite of her penitence, which did not seem very profound,
Jack looked extraordinarily happy and glowing.
"No, I wasn't hurt in the least. I managed to get clear as we went down.
But my horse's knee was sprained--not so badly as Bryan and I at first
thought. Still I did not like to ride him, so we have been walking along
through the rain for a few miles."
"How did the accident occur? I am rather surprised, Jack," Frank
answered, now plainly more sympathetic because a little uneasy at what
could have happened to his wife.
Jack turned aside and even in the dusk one could see she was
embarrassed.
"Oh, I was disobeying orders," she said with a pretence of lightness. "I
went over a rather high fence, which I had never taken before, without
waiting until Bryan could get up to me. I made the jump without trouble,
but the ground on the other side was so soft that my horse's forefeet
went down into it. He stumbled and fell. That is why I am such a
spectacle," she concluded, touching her mud-stained habit with her whip.
Whatever he may have felt, Frank would naturally not discuss a
difference between himself and his wife before another person. He
therefore made no comment, but instead suggested:
"Suppose you get on my horse, Jack, and ride up to the house. Frieda and
Olive are uneasy. Bryan and I will come along together."
According to the English custom, Lord and Lady Kent occupied separate
bedrooms, which opened into each other.
A half hour later Jack was dressing for dinner when she heard Frank
enter his room. But he did not come into her apartment or call out to
her, although they were usually in the habit of discussing various
questions through their open door, while they changed their clothes.
Jack, of course, recognized that her husband was angry with her. Also
she knew that he had a measure of right on his side. She had promised
him not to attempt dangerous jumping in her cross-country riding. Her
accident a number of years before had made him and all the members of
her family more nervous about her than they would ordinarily have been,
knowing that she had spent a large part of her life on horseback.
Moreover, Frank had very rigid ideas about keeping one's word, not
agreeing that one could swerve by a hair's breadth.
In a good deal of haste, since dinner was to be announced at any moment,
Jack put on a white satin dinner dress. It was an old one, but chanced
to be particularly becoming. The gown was simply made, with a square
neck and a fold of tulle about the throat and a long, severely plain
skirt. Only a woman with a figure as perfect as Jack's could have looked
well in it. Her hair was arranged with equal simplicity, being coiled
closely about her head and held in place with a carved ivory comb.
Half a dozen guests had been invited to dinner, nevertheless before
going downstairs Jack went first into her husband's room.
Jack had always had a lovely nature. In the old days at Rainbow Lodge in
any difficulty with one of the Ranch girls, although having a high
temper, she had been quick to confess herself in the wrong. Since her
marriage she had been more than ever inclined to do likewise with her
husband. So it was but natural that Frank should be under the impression
that she would at all times eventually come around to his point of view.
He did not realize that under some circumstances Jack might be as
inflexible as he was.
However, she waited a moment now with perfect good temper, while Frank
pretended that he had not heard her enter his room. When he finally did
look toward her, she went up to him and put her arms about him. Then, as
he continued to frown, Jack smiled. She knew that her husband took small
matters too seriously, having made this discovery soon after her
marriage, just as all girls make similar discoveries. But Jack was wise
enough to realize that she must try as wisely as she could to discount
this uncomfortable characteristic.
"Don't be grouchy, please, Frank," she murmured. "I told you I was
sorry, and you know that every now and then I have to get rid of some of
my surplus American energy. After a hard ride with Bryan I can be a
conventional English Lady for weeks."
In spite of her good intention, Jack's remark was not wise. No matter
how devoted a man and woman may be to each other, there is obliged to
be some difference of opinion in every international marriage.
Frank was extremely sensitive over the idea that Jack was not as happy
in the English life he offered her, as she had been in the old days on
her own ranch.
"That is unfortunate, Jack," he returned, "for I have made up my mind
that it will be wiser for you not to ride with Bryan again. I am afraid
you are both too fond of adventure to be trusted."
Then, as Frank had delivered his edict, his own good temper was
restored. As he was already dressed, putting his arm across Jack's
shoulder, he started for the door. He was really immensely proud of Jack
and thought she looked unusually lovely tonight. In spite of the number
of years he had been married he never introduced her to his friends, or
saw her at the head of his table, without a feeling of pride. Also,
Frank counted on Jack's sweetness of temper. It did not occur to him
that she would disagree with his request, or rather with his command,
since without intending it, he had expressed his wish in such a fashion.
Nevertheless Jack hesitated. She knew that Frank was not in an agreeable
mood for a discussion then. Also, that they could not keep their guests
waiting while one took place.
"I think that is rather arbitrary of you, Frank, since neither Bryan nor
I are children and he is one of the friends I most enjoy. But perhaps we
had better talk of this at another time."
Frank nodded, Jack's manner affording no idea that she would not
ultimately give in to him, nor was she sure herself. It may be that Jack
had become too much of a domestic pacifist--a woman who wishes for peace
at any price.
On the landing of the steps, just before they went down to dinner, Frank
remarked hastily:
"Oh Jack, I had a marconigram from Professor Russell. He must have heard
of Frieda's sudden departure from New York. In any case his ship is due
tomorrow, for he left the day after she sailed."
"Gracious, have you told Frieda?" Jack returned nervously, forgetting
for the instant her own personal quandary. "Frieda announced that she
never would agree to see Professor Russell again. In any case I had
hoped we might have a few weeks of grace, to allow things to quiet down
or perhaps to persuade Frieda to change her mind. The only thing now is
not to allow Professor Russell to come to Kent House until Frieda gives
her consent."
"Nonsense, Jack," Frank answered reassuringly, "Frieda cannot behave in
any such fashion. You have not told me the trouble, but I suspect that
Frieda has simply been a spoiled child. Besides, in any case, she has no
right to refuse at least to see her husband and talk the situation over.
Don't worry; I'll discuss the matter with Frieda myself in the morning
and bring her around. You see, I telegraphed Russell at the dock to come
directly to us, as I shall spend tomorrow at home."
"All right," Jack conceded, a good deal worried, but also slightly
amused. If her husband wished to undertake to persuade Frieda to change
her mind, she was glad that the task was his and not hers. Of course
Frank thought it would be a simple matter, since he had yet really to
know his sister-in-law. It was only natural that he should suppose
Frieda would be easier to guide than his wife, judging by Frieda's
manner and appearance! Men are not always wise in their judgment of
feminine character.