"Oh, as great as Thomas Carlyle? Don't say yes, because I'll run away.
You know what Jane Carlyle said about the wives of men of genius?
They're more miserable even--than--than doctors' wives. Thurston has
symptoms. He sits up all night and writes like Carlyle. Between times
the old crank used to go out in the back yard, and sit on the fence and
smoke a pipe--in his night-shirt. That's the next thing I'll get."
The two men laughed heartily. "You little witch," exclaimed Thurston,
catching her up in his arms and kissing her, "you are simply
irresistible!"
"Now, I'll give you an imitation of a chipmunk," cried Indiana, in high
spirits, jumping up on a lounge, and imitating to perfection a chipmunk
sitting on its haunches and nibbling a nut. Lord Stafford applauded,
while Thurston watched the door, his mind divided between admiration for
his little wife's clever imitation, and fear that his mother might enter
during the performance.
"Do you remember the night we all went on a moonlight picnic to the
Falls--and Glen was so jealous--poor Glen!--and we sang 'On the Banks of
the Wabash'?--
'Oh, the moonlight's fair to-night along the Wabash,
From the field there comes the breath of new-mown hay,
Through the sycamores the candle-lights are gleaming,
On the banks of the Wabash, far away.'"
Her voice quivered and she sank upon the ground, sobbing like a child,
with her head against the table.
Thurston made one quick step toward her and gathered her up in his arms.
"My darling, don't cry! You break my heart." He pressed her to his
breast, smoothing her hair mechanically. A hopeless expression had
settled in his eyes. Lord Stafford looked at them miserably, then
considered the best thing to do, under the circumstances, was to make
his escape in the quietest manner possible.
Thurston sank into a chair, holding his wife closely to his heart. "I
know you're homesick--unhappy," he whispered. "I feel it, and I'm
helpless against it. What can I do?"
"Nothing of the kind," she said, lifting her head suddenly. "There--I
frightened Uncle Nelson away!" She slipped from his arms to the floor.
"I'm not homesick. I mean--not all the time." She gave a piteous
little gulp. "That song upset me, and I had a terrible longing just to
get a look at dad and mother and Grandma Chazy, and then pack them all
home again." Thurston heaved a sigh from his heart. "I wish you
wouldn't take me so seriously, Thurston," she continued, in an aggrieved
voice. "Don't watch every quiver of my eyes, and think it's a tragedy.
Discipline's a very good thing for me--I like it. But I wish you
wouldn't believe every word I say. It's aggravating enough when your
mother does it."
"I'll try not to. But I want to follow your thoughts--I want to be one
with my wife." He drew her to him, gazing with yearning tenderness into
her eyes. "It's difficult to--to adjust my slow emotions to your
rapidly changing ones. You force my sympathy--and repel it--in a
breath. Your moods change with the minutes. But all that wouldn't matter
if I were sure you were learning to love me--to give only a little, in
return for my deep affection. That would set my heart at rest and
smooth away all difficulties." He looked beseechingly into her eyes.
But she silently evaded his glance. Her face had grown suddenly very
serious. "Indiana!"
"I--I was thinking--perhaps it was wrong to marry you--but I did not
love anybody else--and I will try."
"Indiana, if you knew how your words stab me. You have a terrible
capacity for torturing."
"Now you're sorry you married me."
"Sorry!" he repeated, intensely. "I'd give up my life sooner than you--I
try to control my love, but I can't keep it always smothered. I don't
want to frighten you, child--for you are only a child yet--but I shall
keep my word when I said I will make you love me." He pressed her
passionately in his arms. "Indiana!"
"Thurston!" she murmured, for the moment yielding to his embrace.
A discreet cough sounded in the room. Thurston released his wife
instantly. Jennings came toward them, holding a salver out with a hand
which shook more than usual. There was also a certain rigidity in his
face, from the effort to conceal emotion of some kind. Thurston took
the card from the salver, with a vague impression that there was
something strange in Jennings' behavior. Then his own expression
changed into incredulous surprise. He read, with a rising inflection of
the voice which ended in a shout:
"Mr. and Mrs. Stillwater--Mrs. Chazy Bunker, Indiana, U.S.A."
*CHAPTER XV.*
*"I Shall Keep My Promise."*
Indiana, with a scream of joy, flung herself into her father's arms. He
had followed Jennings closely. Also Mrs. Stillwater and Mrs. Bunker.
The latter embraced Thurston exuberantly, then Mrs. Stillwater threw her
arms about his neck, and immediately tore herself away from him, crying.
"That'll do, father. Let me have one kiss--oh!" She was almost
hysterical with excitement. "That'll do, father." He finally gave
Indiana over to her mother, who pressed her to her breast, with
inarticulate expressions of love. Stillwater then shook hands with
Thurston, who had met the onslaught calm and smiling, though inwardly
rejoiced for his wife's sake.
"Come," said Mrs. Bunker, with a beaming face, "pass her round."
"You dear old things," cried Indiana, "this is what I call a surprise!
Now sit down, all of you." She pulled her father and mother down on the
lounge, sitting between them. Mrs. Stillwater gazed at her, speechless
with happiness. Stillwater smoothed her hair tenderly, pressing her
head against his breast. "Tell me all the news. How's everybody at
home? Anybody engaged--or married? How did you happen to come? What
put it in your heads? How long are you going to stay? How--?"
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, "one at a time, Indy."
Thurston stood aside, watching Indiana's radiant face, with an unselfish
joy and an impulse of gratitude to the kindly chance which had brought
her loved ones at the very moment when they were so urgently needed.
Then he withdrew quietly, thinking she would like to be alone with them.
He also wished to acquaint his mother with the surprise.
"I've come over only for one thing," said Mrs. Stillwater. "That's to
see you, Indiana. After you left, and the excitement was over, I
couldn't settle down again. My body was there, but my heart and soul
were following you over the water. I don't know how we ever let you
go," her eyes filled, "and I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to
come over to see for myself if you were happy." She looked yearningly
into Indiana's face.
"My dear mother," said Indiana, tenderly, pressing her cheek to hers,
"my dear, kind, loving mother!"
"Mary," said Stillwater, severely. "It's done now, and we must make the
best of it." The spectacle of his wife and child clasped in each
other's arms, affected him to an intense degree. During the term of
Indiana's engagement and marriage, he had found it necessary to be stern
with his gentle wife--without stringent measures--from pure fear that
she would collapse utterly. His severity served also as a moral brace,
when he himself was concerned.
Jennings entered in his usual noiseless fashion. "Would yer little
leddyship like tea served?"
"Yes, if you please, Jennings," answered Indiana, assuming her English
accent. "Father, Jennings has been a butler in our family all his
life." Every eye was centred upon Jennings, who bowed with a most
self-congratulatory expression, and walked proudly from the room.
"Em--em--lack of ambition," said Stillwater, "that's the trouble with
this country. I could see it before I was two hours landed. The
Britishers are too well-satisfied with themselves. Life's too easy.
They haven't had to grow up with a new town--they ought to have been in
my shoes, eh, mother?"
Mrs. Bunker walked about, surveying the room.
"Father--mother--grandmother!" exclaimed Indiana, taking the centre of
the room. "I have married into a great family. None of your new
nobility. We are one of the few unadulterated families in England, which
has never married out of its sphere--except in my case. And I shall
assimilate, not diverge. No one speaks of progression here. All are
sublimely content. New ideas are shunned, as modern depravity, by her
ladyship. Look about you, at these old family relics--"
"I expect to see a ghost every moment," interrupted Mrs. Bunker,
affecting to shiver.
"It's like a nasty old vault," whispered Mrs. Stillwater,
confidentially, to her husband.
"There's nothing better than us," remarked Indiana, with a toss of her
head. "Nothing, from an ancestral point of view."
"Indiana, drop that English accent," said Mrs. Bunker, sharply, "it's
too affected."
"Hush!" answered Indiana, looking toward the door. Thurston entered,
with Lady Canning on his arm.
Indiana approached her with a very marked change of manner, speaking in
soft, low English tones. "My dear Lady Canning, I have had such a
delightful surprise. This is my father and mother."
"My dear Mrs. Stillwater, I am really delighted. And Mr. Stillwater."
"And this is my grandmother," continued Indiana.
"Your grandmother!" exclaimed Lady Canning, staring in surprise at the
vivacious and essentially modern woman before her. Mrs. Bunker, on this
occasion, wore a very becoming, extremely youthful hat.
"It's difficult to realize, isn't it?" remarked Mrs. Bunker, laughing
and flattered at Lady Canning's astonishment. "We consider it criminal
in the States for a woman not to look at least ten years younger than
she really is. I've always been regarded as a remarkable woman for my
age."
"The costume is deceiving," answered Lady Canning, regarding Mrs.
Bunker's fashionable attire with disapproving eyes. "At first glance I
thought you were a young woman, Mrs.--er--"
"Bunker," smiling graciously.
"Mrs. Bunker. However, on close inspection, I see you are not."
Having thus summarily thrown cold water on Mrs. Bunker's enthusiasm,
Lady Canning proceeded on Thurston's arm to her usual chair by the fire,
Lord Stafford, entering shortly after, exchanged laughing greetings with
his fellow-travellers.
"Lady Canning, I wouldn't harbor any old bachelors," remarked Mrs.
Bunker, her irrepressible spirits rising to the surface again. "If he
were my brother, I'd just turn him out, and he would be obliged to marry
for a shelter."
"Mrs. Bunker," said Lord Stafford, "I once heard a Yankee farmer say,
'An old hoss that's been jogging along a good many years alone, is
always good to jog along a few years more, but if you yoke him with
another hoss, he's winded at once, and goes to the wall.' Ha, ha, ha,
ha!"
Indiana, who was sitting at the tea-table, strained her eyes and ears,
trying to hear everything that was said. At one time she became so
absorbed, making anxious and involuntary comparisons between her
relatives and Thurston's, that she forgot to pour out the tea, while
Jennings stood anxiously watching her, waiting for the cups.
"And how do you find your daughter looking, Mrs. Stillwater?" inquired
Lady Canning.
Mrs. Stillwater, sitting near the elder lady by the fire, shook her head
dolefully. "Her color's not as high as it used to be. I suppose it's
living in these dark, musty rooms. And she's used to flying about in
the open air."
"Mother!" exclaimed Indiana.
"What is it, Indiana?" answered Mrs. Stillwater, starting.