OCR Text |
Show !lEMig (SAB! by MARGARET WEYMOUTH JACKSON I WNO SerTlc v .v ... I 1 C by Bobbs-Merrill Co.) g At least, that Is not the way I thought of It, and I don't think you did either. But if you made one, I will never ask you to continue It Any time you want what you left you have only to put on your hat and go back and get It This must be understood between us. You are under no compulsion to stay with me. If you gaveup other things, it was because this was something some-thing you wanted more. Either our marriage was a gain for both of us, or it was a mistake." "Why don't you go ahead and remind re-mind me that I proposed to you?" she said, too helpless in her own emotions to be sensible. "Did you?" he asked coldly. "I thought the matter was spontaneous. I thought it was Inevitable. Don't cheapen yourself with such a thought. !tj THE STORY Renewing a childhood attachment, attach-ment, Ernestine fir ice land, of a wealthy family, la attracted by Will Todd, newspaper artist. Her sinter, Lillian, urges her to break otr the affair, but Ernestine refunds. re-funds. A runaway marriage follows. fol-lows. Loring Hamilton wins Lll-lliin's Lll-lliin's consent to become his wife. Will and Ernestine begin their married life In humble Hurround-lnKH. Hurround-lnKH. John Poole, Will's best friend, Kves a birthday party for Ernestine at Kuby Pastano's resort. re-sort. CHAPTER IV Continued 5 "Rut you have lived In the country?" coun-try?" "Oh, yes, always, In the summer. My Grandmother Langley had a home in Indiana where my father's quarries quar-ries are. Why doyou ask?" "Never mind me. Tell me of yourself. your-self. This house In the country, and your home on Sheridan road Is a long way from here." Ernestine understood his Idea, but ehe refused to he drawn Into such a coin til leu ted conversation. "It Is only a few miles," she replied, and he gave an Impatient exclamation. exclama-tion. "It Is a thousand miles and a hundred hun-dred years at least," he said. "Tell Jne ahout your mother's house." Ernestine thought about it. "Do you know anything about American Amer-ican period furniture, Mr. Pastano? There Is n Duncan I'hyfa table, and pierced brass fire-fender, In the living liv-ing room; four-poster beds upstairs, with hooked rugs and woven counterpanes counter-panes all of the things have come Into the family honestly, through natural nat-ural possession, and not from auction rooms. Hut, of course, you know;" She smiled at him. Her long hands lay together in the immaculate perfection perfec-tion of her yellow chiffon lap. Her voice was low, only for his ears, and though she thought him very strange, ehe gave him her gravest, youngest courtesy. "I know nothing about America, at all, it seems." "It's just the house I'll take you to see it some day, if you like, although mamma doesn't like people to consider it a museum, as some experts do. Of course, I don't live there since my marriage. We live in a rooming house on Erie stret, and it just shows that furniture and things do not mean so much, for I am happier now than I vas." "You have lef this house of your mother, with pierced brass from your cwn ancestors, to live in Erie street?" She nodded and smiled again, and her eyes pleaded for his understanding. understand-ing. He shook his head sadly. He heaved a vast sigh. "No, I do not understand America. Continually I am full of new astonishment. aston-ishment. Women are somewhat the same the world around but American men are outside my comprehension." "You have been successful here," She reminded him, but be brushed her " ttalM lllll MME Hi M tired, too. But, Ernestine, I'm so happy that I wonder if I can be any happier." Her voice was bright and clear quick and competent. Ernestine Ernes-tine remembered the tears and passion pas-sion of her own engagement. "You will be happy always. You will," she said with intensity. They left her at the stone steps and watched until she opened the door with her latchkey and disappeared into the dark prison-like house. Then Lor-ing Lor-ing turned the car about and, with Lillian at his side, started back north. Lillian cuddled against him. "Oh, Lorrle," she said sorrowfully, "she isn't happy. You know she isn't. It wouldn't be so bad for her to be poor, if only he were good to her. But you can see that he neglects her. If he cannot provide for her decently he could at least be a gentleman to her. But after all she has done for him. he mistreats her." ''Don't be disturbed about It, darling," dar-ling," said Loring In a low voice. "There's nothing we can do now. Only be good to her and wait for her to waken." In Mrs. Bennett's boarding house Ernestine climbed the stairs slowly, feeling herself weak with rage. CHAPTER V The First Quarrel Ernestine's anger and resentment grew like a bonfire. The small front room was cold, but she was unaware of its temperature or of the frost gathering thick on the window. Everything Every-thing was fuel to the flame which burned in her. The longer Will delayed de-layed the more her anger grew. His cavalier treatment of her. Tommy could take her home! Mr. Poole needed him. More than anything else, more, she told herself, than the humiliation hu-miliation of Mr. Pastano's scorn was this fact, that Mr. Poole mattered more than she did. She gave herself up to anger as she had given herself to love with abandon. Will had neglected her. He had humiliated her. She knew that she would not have cared for any of It so much if she had not been forced to see It through the horrified eyes of her sister and Loring. They were pitying her now. She could imagine Lillian's comments, Loring's sympathy. sympa-thy. That was the crux of the whole matter. And Mr. Poole, the vile old drunkard 1 ' Was this the sort of friendship her marriage was to bring her? fehe had given up everything for Will everything! Was he to sacrifice sacri-fice nothing for her? Could he not abandon this adoration of an obscene old man who happened to be a cartoonist? car-toonist? It was not necessary for these gifted people to foregather in such a place. She burned and trembled trem-bled as she recalled Pastano's contempt. con-tempt. That strangers should need to instruct her as to her proper place So absorbing were her thoughts, so wrapped was she In the resounding cadences of her own inner tumult, that she did not hear the outer door nor Will's soft step on the stairs, when at last he came. "Up yet?" he asked In a husky whisper. "You should have been in bed two hours ago. It's cold as the devil outside. But what's the matter, kitten? Aren't you well?" "Don't speak to me!" said Ernestine, and the fact that, like himself, she had to lower her voice In consideration considera-tion for people sleeping on either side only added to her rage. "But Ernestine !" "Don't speak to me!" she cried again, and this time her voice was clear. "I never want to go anywhere with you again." "Be silent," he commanded In a voice low but stern, and his eyes leaped back at her with. an anger equal to her own. "Have you lost your wits? Shouting in this place in the middle of the night?" Ernestine stood, her mouth open a little In amazement at his tone. Hot words trembled upon her tongue. "Undress and get In bed," said Will. "What do you mean, sitting here, without with-out more clothes on, in this Icy room? Do you wish to harm yourself?" She laughed. "You are concerned about my welfare, nren't you?" she taunted him, and for answer he seized her shoulders and gave her a quick little shake. "Ernestine," he demanded, "will you do as I say?" She stood trembling, fighting down the stupid well of tears, reaching out after her departing anger. "Will," her voice was as low, as vital as his own "I'm in such a rage that I have got to talk to you. You can't treat me this way. .You can't leave me to the courtesy of strangers. You can't take me to such places where there's drunkenness and Immorality. Im-morality. You have got to be a better bet-ter husband to me than that. I have given up everything for you everything every-thing "When you are in bed, I'll talk to you," he answered, as he threw off his coat and went to the wardrobe and brought her her warm dressing gown, nightgown and fur-lined moccasins. He undid the fastening of her dress and before she could arm herself against him, he lifted it off over her head. The satin slip, the silken un-derthings un-derthings her body was like cold marble. In a moment, it seemed, she was in nightgown and dressing gown, in bed, and he was drawing off her gossamer hose and chafing her feet In his own cold hands until the mottled skin showed red with blood. Then he tucked her under the covers and brought a chair and sat down beside her, not touching her. Ernestine laughed again. "If you really cared," she said, her eyes dark with anger and pain, "whether I were warmly In bed you might have come with me to see." He was silent. He was very pale. Small beads of perspiration stood upon his forehead in the cold room. "I am not likely to be ill," she said scornfully. "Don't be afraid of that." Still he did not speak, but looked at her as though he were trying to arrange ar-range some momentous decision In his mind. He took a cigarette from his pocket with hands trembling so that when he lighted it he burned him- self, and flung the match away with an angry exclamation. "Ernestine," he said, turning to her, "there Is one thing that I will never take from you. You are hysterical now, but no matter how angry, how sick or upset you are, there is one thing that you must never say to me. Never again. I won't take it from you." He drew the smoke into his lungs with an effort at self-control, while she stared up at the blur of him, her dark eyes swimming with tears. "I didn't know that you gave up anything for me," he said. "I thought this marriage was on both sides the satisfying of a strong need. I never asked you to make a sacrifice for me. "I Didn't Leave You Unprotected. In Reality You Left Me." she had been unbearably affronted, and she rose and stood pale with anger. Mr. Pastano rose and stood before her, and met with approval the blaze of her eyes. A waiter appeared Instantly with her coat, and he took it and wrapped it about her with Immense Im-mense dignity. "So, go, princess!" he exclaimed, and bowed a little, and looked at her again, his own eyes alight. "You have only my good wishes. It is unfortunate unfor-tunate I must confess the title to a place unfit for you, but this place was not made for you. The unfit, the broken, the abnormal must have their haunts, and they are not for others. Some day, perhaps; it will be my fortune for-tune that we shall be friends." Every one was staring at them. Will had risen and stood beside her, smiling uncertainly, not knowing at all what was going forward. "I want to go home," Ernestine said to him icily. "Tommy will take you," Will answered an-swered easily, "I have to take Mr. Poole to his flat." Ernestine felt herself beginning to tremble with the Indignities heaped upon her. She had been so in love, so exposed, that it all hurt her Incredibly. In-credibly. She looked about her uncertainly, uncer-tainly, then laughed and answered Will with composure. "1 don't believe 1 11 have to depend on Tommy. Here are Lillian and Loring. Lor-ing. They'll take me home." Will swung about In astonishment, and there, indeed, coming through the room uneasily, were Lillian and her lover. Ernestine stood, smiling malignantly, malig-nantly, as they came forward. "Ernestine," exclaimed Lillian, when she was near enough, "I wanted to see you. We went to Mrs. Bennett's, but the maid said you were here, so we followed you. Can you come with us?" "I was just going," answered Ernestine. Ernes-tine. "But wait and meet our friends. This Is my sister, Miss Brieeland, Mrs. Wiston, and Mr. Poole, Lillian, and Monsieur Mostane, and Mr. Wiston of the Sun, and Mr. Underwood, and Mr. Heyward and this Is Mr. Pastano, " who owns this charming place. And this is Mr. Hamilton, Mrs. Wiston " The men had risen and were fumbling fum-bling over the acknowledgements of the introductions. Ernestine seemed the most composed person present, and no one could have guessed that her knees were trembling.- "We wanted to get on, if you and Will can come with us," said Loring, while Mr. Pastano stood and regarded the newcomers evenly. "I'll come with you, but Will has an engagement before he returns home. Goodby, Mr. Poole. Thank you for the evening." She gave her hand to her host, and he put his own hand on her shoulder to steady himself. Loring winced and scowled at this contact, but Ernestine was now in complete command of herself her-self and smiled steadily. Mr. Poole's heavy face, his confusion, did not dismay dis-may her. She bade him an affectionate affection-ate good night, then turned to the others. "Good night, all of you. I'm sorry to run away, from my own party, but somebody must start. If you will excuse ex-cuse me Good night, Will. I'll see you later." She gave Will a luminous look. He did not answer but stared at her silently, si-lently, and she turne'd, sweeping her wrap about her, carrying herself like a queen of the realm, and went off, Loring's black bulk between the sisters, sis-ters, his face dark with forebodings. Down the wooden stairs they passed In complete silence. A new sedan stood at the curb, and Loring In majestic ma-jestic silence opened the car door for the girls who got in the back seat. He closed the door and got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Lillian and Ernestine sat close together to-gether in the warmth and comfort, of the heated upholstered, glass-enclosed interior. Ernestine felt for the first time a poignant homesickness for comfort com-fort and convenience. "Why didn't Will come with us?" asked Loring from the front seat. Ernestine decided to be frank. "You could' see that Mr. Poole had been drinking too much, couldn't you? Well, Will felt that he ought to take him home and see that he got there safely. He often does that. They're good friends, you know. And you mustn't think badly of Mr. Poole. He's old, and, really, he is a wonderful man." "But-how about you? How would you have got home? Our coming along was an accident." 'Tummy Tucker would have taken me," said Ernestine calmly. "Or the Wisteria, or Monsieur Mostane. I'd have gone home all right." There was a silence of disapproval ard adjustment. The car rolled sruoothly along the quiet streets. "Then everything's all right?" asked Lillian diffidently. "Of course, darling." "I'm so glad. Will you come and have lunch with mamma and me tomorrow to-morrow and let me tell you all our plans?" "I'M see," said Ernestine. "Now, I'll have to go home. I'm terribly tired." "Of course you are. It's late. I'm But however it happened, it was not a sacrifice. I will not be sacrificed for. I don't want anybody to give up anything any-thing for me. Understand?" There was a moment of silence, and he went on swiftly: "It may be that before we are through with this business of marriage it will be really hard for us. I don't know that I'll ever be what your family fam-ily considers essential in a husband a good provider. I may never make more than a small living for us. Sometimes, like now, I feel such power in me that I could go out and take life by the throat. I feel at times that there are big things in me, Ernestine. But perhaps all human beings feel that way. There are other moments when I'm not even sure that I can hold the job I have. What then? Maybe there is worse ahead of us, Instead In-stead of better. What of that? Do we love each other, or don't we? Are we married, or are we simply having a lovely time and will go home when the party is over? You can do as you like. I will not interfere with your actions, but neither will I come home and account for my own. If Mr. Poole is drunk and it seems necessary to mo to go home with him, you must allow me the exercise of my own judgment. I didn't leave you unprotected. In reality, you left me." "It wasn't only that." She was actually defending herself. "It was everything. Lillian and Loring coming com-ing in on us, and Mr. Pastano ' Half weeping, still partly in the hold of anger, she told him all that Mr. Pastano had said to her. He listened attentively, but made nothing of It. "What do you care," he exclaimed, "what that bully says? It's only a compliment. It's only a denial of his whole code of morals. The fact that you could sit In his dirty place and still be so clean that even he could see it, gives the lie to all he says." "I don't understand anything," wailed Ernestine. "Only I was so hurt I had to go off alone with them. You might have come with me. I was so happy, so thrilled, and then everything was spoiled without any warning. I can't adjust myself to things like you do I don't understand. under-stand. Of course I care what Mr.' Pastano thinks. I don't want him to think you would take me out to associate asso-ciate with p-prostitutes !" He sat on the edge of the bed now and held her hand and smoked another cigarette and thought about this. But they had come back Into a calmer place. He began to reason with her in his steady voice, looldng down at her with his kindled, intelligent eyes. "You see, Ernestine, he's got the old line on things, and we, I believe, want the new. Pastano's morality and virtue vir-tue are only for women. I've been there often, and he's made me very welcome. How unreal it is. Virtue a woman's prerogative, and a stone wall about her to insure it. A harem I lTou don't believe In walled gardens for wives, do you, ErnesttLe? After all, no man can protect his wife's virtue for her, if she Is determined to throw It away." "You think then that a husbndd hai na responsibilities at all?" (to bb ewriuuEixi "But You Have Lived in the Country?" comment aside, pursuing his own thought aloud. "No, I do not understand. If my son Is penniless; if he Is an artist starving in a garret, and the great, the incredible good fortune come to him that he shall marry a girl of noble no-ble birth, who has a quiet voice, and gentle still hands, and a brow where breeding shows its lovely smile If my son have the grace and the smile of fortune to marry such a girl, and he bring her to a place like this " He looked about him with scorn. "If he bring his wife to this 'brothel this sink I take a knife in taiy own hand and stab him through the heart. You must go away from here Instantly now! There Is activity ac-tivity In this room that pollutes the rery air. You will strangle In It " Ernestine's heart stopped beating In her astonishment- She felt that |