The quarrel had left Mary in a quiver of exalted rage. How dare a friend trample her most sacred feelings! She pitied Jane Anderson and her tribe—these modern feminine leaders of a senseless revolution against man—they were crazy. They had all been disappointed in some individual and for that reason set themselves up as the judges of mankind.
“Thank God my soul has not been poisoned!” she exclaimed aloud with fervor. “How strange that these women who claim such clear vision can be so stupidly blind!”
She busied herself with her little household, and made up her mind once and for all time to be done with such friendships. The friendship of such women was a vain thing. They were vicious cats at heart—not like her gentle Persian kitten whose soul was full of sleepy sunlight. These modern insurgents were wild, half-starved stray cats that had been hounded and beaten until they had lapsed into their elemental brute instincts. They were so aggravating, too, they deserved no sympathy.
Again she thanked God that she was not one of them—that her heart was still capable of romantic love—a love so sudden and so overwhelming that it could sweep life before it in one mad rush to its glorious end.
She woke next morning with a dull sense of depression. The room was damp and chilly. It was storming. The splash of rain against the window and the muffled roar from the street below meant that the wind was high and the day would be a wretched one outside.
They couldn't take their ride.
It was a double disappointment. She had meant to have him dash down to Long Beach and place the ring on her finger seated on that same bright sand-dune overlooking the sea. Instead, they must stay indoors. Jim was not at his best indoors. She loved him behind the wheel with his hand on the pulse of that racer. The machine seemed a part of his being. He breathed his spirit into its steel heart, and together they swept her on and on over billowy clouds through the gates of Heaven.
There was no help for it. They would spend the time together in her room planning the future. It would be sweet—these intimate hours in her home with the man she loved.
Should she spend a whole day alone there with him? Was it just proper? Was it really safe? Nonsense! The vile thoughts which Jane had uttered had poisoned her, after all. She hated her self that she could remember them. And yet they filled her heart with dread in spite of every effort to laugh them off.
“How could Jane Anderson dare say such things?” she muttered angrily. “`A coarse, illiterate brute!' It's a lie! a lie! a lie!” She stamped her foot in rage. “He's strong and brave and masterful—a man among men—he's my mate and I love him!”
And yet the frankness with which her friend had spoken had in reality disturbed her beyond measure. Through every hour of the day her uneasiness increased. After all she was utterly alone and her life had been pitifully narrow. Her knowledge of men she had drawn almost exclusively from romantic fiction.
It was just a little strange that Jim persisted in living so completely in the present and the future. He had told her of his pitiful childhood. He had told her of his business. It had been definite—the simple statement he made—and she accepted it without question until Jane Anderson had dropped these ugly suspicions. She hated the meddler for it.
In the light of such suspicions the simplest, bravest man might seem a criminal. How could her friend be blind to the magnetism of this man's powerful personality? Bah! She was jealous of their perfect happiness. Why are women so contemptible?
She began a careful study of every trait of her lover's character, determined to weigh him by the truest standards of manhood. Certainly he was no weakling. The one abomination of her soul was the type of the city degenerate she saw simpering along Broadway and Fifth Avenue at times. Jim was brave to the point of rashness. No man with an ounce of cowardice in his being could handle a car in every crisis with such cool daring and perfect control. He was strong. He could lift her body as if it were a feather. His arms crushed her with terrible force. He could earn a living for them both. There could be no doubt about that. His faultless clothes, the ease with which he commanded unlimited credit among the automobile manufacturers and dealers—every supply store on Broadway seemed to know him—left no doubt on that score.
There was just a bit of mystery and reserve about his career as an inventor. His first success that had given him a start he had not explained. The big deal about the new carburetor she could, of course, understand. He had a workshop all his own. He had told her this the first day they met. She would ask him to take her to see it this afternoon. The storm would prevent the trip to the Beach. She would ask this, not because she doubted his honesty, but because she really wished to see the place in which he worked. It was her workshop now, as well as his.
For a moment her suspicions were sickening. Suppose he had romanced about his workshop and his room? Supposed he lived somewhere in the squalid slums of the lower East Side and his people, after all, were alive? Perhaps a drunken father and a coarse, brutal mother—and sisters——
She stopped with a frown and clenched her fists.
She would ask Jim to show her his workshop. That would be enough. If he had told her the truth about that she would make up to him in tender abandonment of utter trust for every suspicion she harbored.
The car was standing in front of her door. He waved for her to come down.
“Jump right in!” he called gayly. “I've got an extra rubber blanket for you.”
“In the storm, Jim?” she faltered.
“Surest thing you know. It's great to fly through a storm. You can just ride on its wings. Throw on your raincoat and come on quick! I'm going to run down to the Beach. Who's afraid of an old storm with this thing under us?”
Her heart gave a bound. Her longing had reached her lover and brought him through the storm to do her bidding. It was wonderful—this oneness of soul and body.
She was happy again—supremely, divinely happy. The man by her side knew and understood. She knew and understood. She loved this daring spirit that rose to the wind—this iron will that brooked no interference with his plans, even from Nature, when it crossed his love.
The sting of the raindrops against her cheek was exhilarating. The car glided over the swimming roadway like a great gray gull skimming the beach at low tide. Her soul rose. The sun of a perfect faith and love was shining now behind the clouds.
She nestled close to his side and watched him tenderly from the corners of her half-closed eyes, her whole being content in his strength. The idea of dashing through a blinding rain to the Beach on such a day would have been to her mind an unthinkable piece of madness. She was proud of his daring. It would be hers to shield from the storms of life. She loved the rugged lines of his massive jaw in profile. How could Jane be such a fool as to call him ugly!
The weather, of course, prevented them from walking up the Beach to their sand-dune. The walk would have been all right—but it was out of the question to sit down there and give her the ring in the pouring rain. She knew this as well as he. She knew, too, that he had the ring in his pocket, though he had carefully refrained from referring to it in any way.
He led her to a secluded nook behind a pillar in the little parlor. The hotel was deserted. They had the building almost to themselves. A log fire crackled in the open fireplace, and he drew a settee close. The wind had moderated and the rain was pouring down in straight streams, rolling in soft music on the roof.
He drew the ring from his pocket. “Well, Kiddo, I got it. The fellow said this was all right.”
He held the tiny gold band before her shining eyes.
“Slip it on!” she whispered.
“Which one?”
“This one, silly!”
She extended her third finger, as he pressed the ring slowly on.
“Seems to me a mighty little one and a mighty cheap one, but he said it was the thing.”
“It's all right, dear,” she whispered. “Kiss me!”
He pressed his lips to hers and held them until she sank back and lifted her hand in warning.
“Be careful!”
“Whose afraid?” Jim muttered, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. “Now tell me what day—tomorrow?”
“Nonsense, man!” she cried. “Give me time to breathe——”
“What for?”
“Just to realize that I'm engaged—to plan and think and dream of the wonderful day.”
“We're losing time——”
“We'll never live these wonderful hours over again, dear.”
Jim's face fell and his voice was pitiful in its funereal notes: “Lord, I thought the ring settled it.”
“And so it does, dear—it does——-”
“Not if that long-legged spider that took dinner with us the other night gets in her fine work. I'll bet that she handed me a few when you got home?”
Mary was silent.
“Now didn't she?”
“To the best of her ability—yes—but I didn't mind her silly talk.”
“Gee, but I'd love to give her a bouquet of poison ivy!”
“We had an awful quarrel——”
“And you stood up for me?”
“You know I did!”
“All right, I don't give a tinker's damn what anybody says if you stand by me! In all this world there's just you—for me. There's never been anybody else—and there never will be. I'm that kind.”
“And I love you for it!” she cried, with rapture pressing his hand in both of hers.
“What did she say about me, anyhow?”
“Nothing worth repeating. I've forgotten it.”
Jim held her gaze.
“It's funny how you love anybody the minute you lay eyes on 'em—or hate 'em the same way. I wanted to choke her the minute she opened her yap to me.”
“Forget it, dear,” she broke in briskly. “I want you to take me to see your workshop tomorrow—will you?”
A flash of suspicion shot from the depths of his eyes.
“Did she tell you to ask me that?”
“Of course not! I'm just interested in everything you do. I want to see where you work.”
“It's no place for a sweet girl to go—that part of town.”
“But I'll be with you.”
“I don't want you to go down there,” he sullenly maintained.
“But why, dear?”
“It's a low, dirty place. I had to locate the shop there to get the room I needed for the rent I could pay. It's not fit for you. I'm going to move uptown in a little while.”
“Please let me go,” she pleaded.
He shook his head emphatically.
“No.”
She turned away to hide the tears. The first real, hideous fear she had ever had about him caught her heart in spite of every effort to fight it down. His workshop might be a myth after all. He had failed in the first test to which she had put him. It was horrible. All the vile suggestions of Jane Anderson rushed now into her memory.
She struggled bravely to keep her head and not break down. It was beyond her strength. A sob strangled her, and she buried her face in her hands.
Jim looked at her in helpless anguish for a moment, started to gather her in his arms and looked around the room in terror.
He leaned over her and whispered tensely:
“For God's sake, Kiddo—don't—don't do that! I didn't mean to hurt you—honest, I didn't. Don't cry any more and I'll take you right down to the black hole, and let you sleep on the floor if you want to. Gee! I'll give you the whole place, tools, junk and all——”
She lifted her head.
“Will you, Jim?”
“Sure I will! We start this minute if you want to go.”
She glanced over his shoulder to see that no one was looking, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again and again.
“It was the first time you ever said no, dear, and it hurt. I'm happy again now. If you'll just let me see you in the shop for five minutes I'll never ask you again.”
“All right—tomorrow when you get out of school. I'll take you down. Holy Mike, that was a dandy kiss! Let's quarrel again—start something else.”
She rose laughing and brushed the last trace of tears from her eyes.
“Let's eat dinner now—I'm hungry.”
“By George, I'd forgot all about the feed!”
By eight o'clock the storm had abated; the rain suddenly stopped, and the moon peeped through the clouds.
He drove the big racer back at a steady, even stride on her lowest notch of speed—half the time with only his right hand on the wheel and his left gripping hers.
As the lights of Manhattan flashed from the hills beyond the Queensborough Bridge, he leaned close and whispered:
“Happy?”
“Perfectly.”
The car was waiting the next day at half-past three.
“It's not far,” he said, nodding carelessly. “You needn't put on the coat. Be there in a jiffy.”
Down Twenty-third Street to Avenue A, down the avenue to Eighteenth Street, and then he suddenly swung the machine through Eighteenth into Avenue B and stopped below a low, red brick building on the corner.
He set his brakes with a crash, leaped out and extended his hands.
“I didn't like to take you up these stairs at the back of that saloon, little girl, but you would come. Now don't blame me——”
She pressed his arm tenderly.
“Of course I won't blame you. I'm proud and happy to share your life and help you. I'm surprised to see everything so quiet down here. I thought all the East Side was packed with crowded tenements.”
“No,” he answered, in a matter-of-fact way. “About the only excitement we have in this quarter is an occasional gas explosion in the plant over there, and the noise of the second-hand material men unloading iron. The tenements haven't been built here yet.”
He led her quickly past the back door of the saloon and up two narrow flights of stairs to the top of the building, drew from his pocket the key to a heavy padlock and slipped the crooked bolt from the double staples. He unlocked the door with a second key and pushed his way in.
“All righto,” he cried.
The straight, narrow hall inside was dark. He fumbled in his pocket and lit the gas.
“The workshop first, or my sleeping den?”
“The workshop first!” she whispered excitedly.
She had made the reality of this shop the supreme test of Jim's word and character. She was in a fever of expectant uncertainty as to its equipment and practical use.
He unlocked the door leading to the front.
“That's my den—we'll come back here.”
He passed quickly to the further end of the hall and again used two keys to open the door, and held it back for her to enter.
“I'm sorry it's so dirty—if you get your pretty dress all ruined—it's not my fault, you know.”
Mary surveyed the room with an exclamation of delight.
“Oh, what a wonderful place! Why, Jim, you're a magician!”
There could be no doubt about the practical use to which the shop was being put. Its one small window opened on a fire escape in the narrow court in the rear. A skylight in the middle opened with a hinge on the roof and flooded the space with perfect light. An iron ladder swung from the skylight and was hooked up against the ceiling by a hasp fastened to a staple over a work-bench. On one side of the room was a tiny blacksmith's forge, an anvil, hammers and a complete set of tools for working in rough iron. A small gasoline engine supplied the power which turned his lathe and worked the drills, saw and plane. On the other side of the room was arranged a fairly complete chemical laboratory with several retorts, and an oxyhydrogen blow-pipe capable of developing the powerful heat used in the melting and brazing of metals. Beneath the benches were piled automobile supplies of every kind.
“You know how to use all these machines, Jim?” she asked in wonder.
“Sure, and then some!” he answered with a wave of his slender hand.
“You're a wizard——”
“Now the den?” he said briskly.
She followed him through the hall and into the large front corner room overlooking Avenue B and Eighteenth Street. The morning sun flooded the front and the afternoon sun poured into the side windows. The furniture was solid mahogany—a bed, bureau, chiffonier, couch and three chairs. The windows were fitted with wood-paneled shutters, shades and heavy draperies. A thick, soft carpet of faded red covered the floor.
“It's a nice room, Jim, but I'd like to dust it for you,” she said with a smile.
“Sure. I'm for giving you the right to dust it every morning, Kiddo, beginning now. Let's find a preacher tonight!”
She blushed and moved a step toward the door.
“Just a little while. You know it's been only ten days since we met——”
“But we've lived some in that time, haven't we?”
“An eternity, I think,” she said reverently.
“I want to marry right now, girlie!” he pleaded desperately. “If that spider gets you in her den again, I just feel like it's good night for me.”
“Nonsense. You can't believe me such a silly child. I'm a woman. I love you. Do you think the foolish prejudice of a friend could destroy my love for the man whom I have chosen for my mate?”
“No, but I want it fixed and then it's fixed—and they can say what they please. Marry me tonight! You've got the ring. You're going to in a little while, anyhow. What's the use to wait and lose these days out of our life? What's the sense of it? Don't you know me by this time? Don't you trust me by this time?”
She slipped her hand gently into his.
“I trust you utterly. And I feel that I've known you since the day I was born——”
“Then why—why wait a minute?”
“You can't understand a girl's feelings, dear—only a little while and it's all right.”
He sat down on the couch in silence, rose and walked to the window. She watched him struggling with deep emotion.
He turned suddenly.
“Look here, Kiddo, I've got to leave on that trip to the mountains of North Carolina. I've got to get down there before Christmas. I must be back here by the first of the year. Gee—I can't go without you! You don't want to stay here without me, do you?”
A sudden pallor overspread her face. For the first time she realized how their lives had become one in the sweet intimacy of the past ten days.
“You must go now?” she gasped.
“Yes. I've made my arrangements. I've business back here the first of the year that can't wait. Marry me and go with me. We'll take our honeymoon down there. By George, we'll go together in the car! Every day by each other's side over hundreds and hundreds of miles! Say, ain't you game? Come on! It's a crime to send me away without you. How can you do it?”
“I can't—I'm afraid,” she faltered.
“You'll marry me, then?”
“Yes!” she whispered. “What is the latest day you can start?”
“Next Saturday, if we go in the car——”
“All right,”—she was looking straight into the depths of his soul now—“next Saturday.”
He clasped her in his arms and held her with desperate tenderness.
The consummation of her life's dream was too near, too sweet and wonderful for Jane's croakings to distress Mary Adams beyond the moment. She had, of course, wished her friend to be present at the wedding—yet the curt refusal had only aroused anew her pity at stupid prejudices. It was out of the question to ask her father to leave his work in the Kentucky mountains and come all the way to New York. She would surprise him with the announcement. After all, she was the one human being vitally concerned in this affair, and the only one save the man whose life would be joined to hers.
In five minutes after the painful scene with Jane she had completely regained her composure, and her face was radiant with happiness when she waved to Jim. He was standing before the door in the car, waiting to take her to the City Hall to get the marriage license.
“Gee!” he cried, “you're the prettiest, sweetest thing that ever walked this earth, with those cheeks all flaming like a rose! Are you happy?”
“Gloriously.”
She motioned him to keep his seat and sprang lightly to his side.
“Aren't you happy, sir?” she added gayly.
“I am, yes—but to tell you the truth, I'm beginning to get scared. You know what to do, don't you, when we get before that preacher?”
“Of course, silly——”
“I never saw a wedding in my life.”
She pressed his hand tenderly.
“Honestly, Jim?”
“I swear it. You'll have to tell me how to behave.”
“We'll rehearse it all tonight. I'll show you. I've seen hundreds of people married. My father's a preacher, you know.”
“Yes, I know that,” he went on solemnly; “that's what gives me courage. I knew you'd understand everything. I'm counting on you, Kiddo—if you fall down, we're gone. I'll run like a turkey.”
“It's easy,” she laughed.
“And this license business—how do we go about that? What'll they do to us?”
“Nothing, goose! We just march up to the clerk and demand the license. He asks us a lot of questions——”
“Questions! What sort of questions?”
“The names of your father and mother—whether you've been married before and where you live and how old you are——”
“Ask you about your business?” he interrupted, sharply.
“No. They think if you can pay the license fee you can support your wife, I suppose.”
“How much is it?”
“I don't know, here. It used to be two dollars in Kentucky.”
“That's cheap—must come higher in this burg. I brought along a hundred.”
“Nonsense.”
“There's a lot of graft in this town. I'll be ready. I've got to get 'em—don't care how high they come.”
“There'll be no graft in this, Jim,” she protested gayly.
“Well, it'll be the first time I ever got by without it—believe me!”
The ease with which the license was obtained was more than Jim could understand. All the way back from the City Hall he expected to be held up at every corner. He kept looking over his shoulder to see if they were being followed.
Arrived in her room, they discussed their plans for the day of days.
“I'll come round soon in the morning, and we'll spend the whole day at the Beach,” he suggested.
She lifted her hands in protest.
“No—no!”
“No?”
“Not on our wedding-day, Jim!”
“Why?”
“It's not good form. The groom should not see the bride that day until they meet at the altar.”
“Let's change it!”
“No, sir, the old way's the best. I'll spend the day in saying good-by to the past. You'll call for me at six o'clock. We'll go to Dr. Craddock's house and be married in time for our wedding dinner.”
The lover smiled, and his drooping eyelids fell still lower as he watched her intently.
“I want that dinner here in this little place, Kiddo——”
She blushed and protested.
“I thought we'd go to the Beach and spend the night there.”
“Here, girlie, here! I love this little place—it's so like you. Get the old wild-cat who cleans up for you to fix us a dinner here all by ourselves—wouldn't she?”
“She'd do anything for me—yes.”
“Then fix it here—I want to be just with you—don't you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I'd rather spend that first day of our new life in a strange place—and the Beach we both love—hadn't you just as leave go there, Jim?”
“No. The waiters will stare at us, and hear us talk——”
“We can have our meals served in our room.
“This is better,” he insisted. “I want to spend one day here alone with you, before we go—just to feel that you're all mine. You see, if I walk in here and own the place, I'll know that better than any other way. I've just set my heart on it, Kiddo—what's the difference?”
She lifted her lips to his.
“All right, dear. It shall be as you wish. Tomorrow I will be all yours—in life, in death, in eternity. Your happiness will be the one thing for which I shall plan and work.”
Ella was very happy in the honor conferred on her. She was given entire charge of the place, and spent the day in feverish preparation for the dinner. She insisted on borrowing a larger table from the little fat woman next door, to hold the extra dishes. She dressed herself in her best. Her raven black hair was pressed smooth and shining down the sides of her pale temples.
The work was completed by three o'clock in the afternoon, and Mary lay in her window lazily watching the crowds scurrying home. The offices closed early on Saturday afternoons.
Ella was puttering about the room, adding little touches here and there in a pretense of still being busy. As a matter of fact, she was watching the girl from her one eye with a wistful tenderness she had not dared as yet to express in words. Twice Mary had turned suddenly and seen her thus. Each time Ella had started as if caught in some act of mischief and asked an irrelevant question to relieve her embarrassment.
Mary could feel her single eye fixed on her now in a deep, brooding look. It made her uncomfortable.
She turned slowly and spoke in gentle tones.
“You've been so sweet to me today, Ella—father and mother and best friend. I'll never forget your kindness. You'd better rest awhile now until we go to Dr. Craddock's. I want you to be there, too——”
“To see the marriage—ja?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Oh, no, my dear, no—I stay here and wait for you to come. I keep the lights burning bright. I welcome the bride and groom to their little home—ja.”
A quick glance of suspicion shot from Mary's blue eyes. Could it be possible that this forlorn scrubwoman would carry her hostility to her lover to the same point of ungracious refusal to witness the ceremony? It was nonsense, of course. Ella would feel out of place in the minister's parlor, that was all. She wouldn't insist.
“All right, Ella; you can receive us here with ceremony. You'll be our maid, butler, my father, my mother and my friends!”
There was a moment's silence and still no move on Ella's part to go. The girl felt her single eye again fixed on her in mysterious, wistful gaze. She would send her away if it were possible without hurting her feelings.
Mary lifted her eyes suddenly, and Ella stirred awkwardly and smiled.
“I hope you are very happy, meine liebe—ja?”
“I couldn't be happier if I were in Heaven,” was the quick answer.
“I'm so glad——”
Again an awkward pause.
“I was once young and pretty like you, meine liebe,” she began dreamily, “—slim and straight and jolly—always laughing.”
Mary held her breath in eager expectancy. Ella was going to lift the veil from the mystery of her life, stirred by memories which the coming wedding had evoked.
“And you had a thrilling romance—Ella? I always felt it.”
Again silence, and then in low tones the woman told her story.
“Ja—a romance, too. I was so young and foolish—just a baby myself—not sixteen. But I was full of life and fun, and I had a way of doing what I pleased.
“The man was older than me—Oh, a lot older—with gray hairs on the side of his head. I was wild about him. I never took to kids. They didn't seem to like me——”
She paused as if hesitating to give her full confidence, and quickly went on:
“My folks were German. They couldn't speak English. I learned when I was five years old. They didn't like my lover. We quarrel day and night. I say they didn't like him because they could not speak his language. They say he was bad. I fight for him, and run away and marry him——”
Again she paused and drew a deep breath.
“Ah, I was one happy little fool that year! He make good wages on the docks—a stevedore. They had a strike, and he got to drinking. The baby came——”
She stopped suddenly.
“You had a little baby, Ella?” the girl asked in a tender whisper.
“Ja—ja,” she sobbed—“so sweet, so good—so quiet—so beautiful she was. I was very happy—like a little girl with a doll—only she laugh and cry and coo and pull my hair! He stop the drink a little while when she come, and he got work. And then he begin worse and worse. It seem like he never loved me any more after the baby. He curse me, he quarrel. He begin to strike me sometimes. I laugh and cry at first and make up and try again——”
Again she paused as if for courage to go on, and choked into silence.
“Yes—and then?” the girl asked.
“And then he come home one night wild drunk. He stumble and fall across the cradle and hurt my baby so she never cry—just lie still and tremble—her eyes wide open at first and then they droop and close and she die!
“He laugh and curse and strike me, and I fight him like a tiger. He was strong—he throw me down on the floor and gouge my eye out with his big claw——”
“Oh, my God,” Mary sobbed.
Ella sprang to her feet and bent over the girl with trembling eagerness.
“You keep my secret, meine liebe?”
“Yes—yes——”
“I never tell a soul on earth what I tell you now—I just eat my heart out and keep still all the years, I can tell you—ja?”
“Yes, I'll keep it sacred—go on——”
“When I know he gouge my eye out, I go wild. I get my hand on his throat and choke him still. I drag him to the stairs and throw him head first all the way down to the bottom. He fall in a heap and lie still. I run down and drag him to the door. I kick his face and he never move. He was dead. I kick him again—and again. And then I laugh—I laugh—I laugh in his dead face—I was so glad I kill him!”
She sank in a paroxysm of sobs on the floor, and the girl touched her smooth black hair tenderly, strangled with her own emotions.
Ella rose at last and brushed the tears from her hollow cheeks.
“Now, you know, meine liebe! Why I tell you this today, I don't know—maybe I must! I dream once like you dream today——”
The girl slipped her arms around the drooping, pathetic figure and stroked it tenderly.
“The sunshine is for some, maybe,” Ella went on pathetically; “for some the clouds and the storms. I hope you are very, very happy today and all the days——”
“I will be, Ella, I'm sure. I'll always love you after this.”
“Maybe I make you sad because I tell you——”
“No—no! I'm glad you told me. The knowledge of your sorrow will make my life the sweeter. I shall be more humble in my joy.”
It never occurred to the girl for a moment that this lonely, broken woman had torn her soul's deepest secret open in a last pathetic effort to warn her of the danger of her marriage. The wistful, helpless look in her eye meant to Mary only the anguish of memories. Each human heart persists in learning the big lessons of life at first hand. We refuse to learn any other way. The tragedies of others interest us as fiction. We make the application to others—never to ourselves.
Jim's familiar footstep echoed through the hall, and Mary sprang to the door with a cry of joy.
Ella hurried into the kitchenette and busied herself with dinner. Jim's unexpectedly early arrival broke the spell of the tragedy to which Mary had listened with breathless sympathy. Her own future she faced without a shadow of doubt or fear.
Her reproaches to Jim were entirely perfunctory, on the sin of his early call on their wedding-day.
“Naughty boy!” she cried with mock severity. “At this unseemly hour!”
He glanced about the room nervously.
“Anybody in there?”
He nodded toward the kitchenette.
“Only Ella——”
“Send her away.”
“What's the matter?”
“Quick, Kiddo—quick!”
Mary let Ella out from the little private hall without her seeing Jim, and returned.
“For heaven's sake, man, what ails you?” she asked excitedly.
“Say—I forgot that thing already. We got to go over it again. What if I miss it?”
“The ceremony?”
“Yep——”
He mopped his brow and looked at his watch.
“By the time we get to that preacher's house, I won't know my first name if you don't help me.”
Mary laughed softly and kissed him.
“You can't miss it. All you've got to do is say, `I will' when he asks you the question, put the ring on my finger when he tells you, and repeat the words after him—he and I will do the rest.”
“Say my question over again.”
“`Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?'”
She looked at him and laughed.
“Why don't you answer?”
“Now?”
“Yes—that's the end of the question. Say, `I will.'”
“Oh, I will all right! What scares me is that I'll jump in on him and say `I will' before he gets halfway through. Seems to me when he says, `Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?' I'll just have to choke myself there to keep from saying, `You bet your life I will, Parson!'”
“It won't hurt anything if you say, `I will' several times,” she assured him.
“It wouldn't queer the job?”
“Not in the least. I've often heard them say, `I will' two or three times. Wait until you hear the words, `so long as ye both shall live——'”
“`So long as ye both shall live,'” he repeated solemnly.
“The other speech you say after the minister.”
“He won't bite off more than I can chew at one time, will he?”
“No, silly—just a few words——”
“Because if he does, I'll choke.”
Jim drew his watch again, mopped his brow, and gazed at Mary's serene face with wonder.
“Say, Kiddo, you're immense—you're as cool as a cucumber!”
“Of course. Why not? It's my day of joy and perfect peace—the day I've dreamed of since the dawn of maidenhood. I'm marrying the man of my choice—the one man God made for me of all men on earth. I know this—I'm content.”
“Let me hang around here till time—won't you?” he asked helplessly.
“We must have Ella come back to fix the table.”
“Sure. I just didn't want her to hear me tell you that I had cold feet. I'm better now.”
Ella moved about the room with soft tread, watching Jim with sullen, concentrated gaze when he was not looking.
The lovers sat on the couch beside the window, holding each other's hands and watching in silence the hurrying crowds pass below. Now that his panic was over, Jim began to breathe more freely, and the time swiftly passed.
As the shadows slowly fell, they rang the bell at the parson's house beside the church, and his good wife ushered them into the parlor. The little Craddocks crowded in—six of them, two girls and four boys, their ages ranging from five to nineteen.
Sweet memories crowded the girl's heart from her happy childhood. She had never missed one of these affairs at home. Her father was a very popular minister and his home the Mecca of lovers for miles around.
Craddock, like her father, was inclined to be conservative in his forms. Marriage he held with the old theologians to be a holy sacrament. He never used the new-fangled marriage vows. He stuck to the formula of the Book of Common Prayer.
When she stood before the preacher in this beautiful familiar scene which she had witnessed so many times at home, Mary's heart beat with a joy that was positively silly. She tried to be serious, and the dimple would come in her cheek in spite of every effort.
As Craddock's musical voice began the opening address, the memory of a foolish incident in her father's life flashed through her mind, and she wondered if Jim in his excitement had forgotten his pocket-book and couldn't pay the preacher.
“Dearly beloved,” he began, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God——”
Mary tried to remember that she was in the sight of God, but she was so foolishly happy she could only remember that funny scene. A long-legged Kentucky mountain bridegroom at the close of the ceremony had turned to her father and drawled:
“Well, parson, I ain't got no money with me—but I want to give ye five dollars. I've got a fine dawg. He's worth ten. I'll send him to ye fur five—if it's all right?”
The children had giggled and her father blushed.
“Oh, that's all right,” he had answered. “Money's no matter. Forget the five. I hope you'll be very happy.”
Two weeks later a crate containing the dog had come by express. On the tag was scrawled:
Dear Parson:—I like Nancy so well, I send ye the hole dawg, anyhow.
She hadn't a doubt that Jim would feel the same way—but she hoped he hadn't forgotten his pocketbook.
The scene had flashed through her mind in a single moment. She had bitten her lips and kept from laughing by a supreme effort. Not a word of the solemn ceremonial, however, had escaped her consciousness.
“And in the face of this company,” the preacher's rich voice was saying, “to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is commended of St. Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.”
Craddock paused, and his piercing eyes searched the man and woman before him.
“I require to charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it——”
Again he paused. The perspiration stood in beads on Jim's forehead, and he glanced uneasily at Mary from the corners of his drooping eyes. A smile was playing about her mouth, and Jim was cheered.
“For be ye well assured,” the preacher continued, “that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's Word doth allow, their marriage is not lawful.”
He turned with deliberation to Jim and transfixed him with the first question of the ceremony. The groom was hypnotized into a state of abject terror. His ears heard the words; the mind recorded but the vaguest idea of what they meant.
“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Jim's mouth was open; his lower jaw had dropped in dazed awe, and he continued to stare straight into the preacher's face until Mary pressed his arm and whispered:
“Jim!”
“I will—yes, I will—you bet I will!” he hastened to answer.
The children giggled, and the preacher's lips twitched.
He turned quickly to Mary.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
With quick, clear voice, Mary answered:
“I will.”
“Please join your right hands and repeat after me:”
He fixed Jim with his gaze and spoke with deliberation, clause by clause:
“I, James, take thee, Mary, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Jim's throat at first was husky with fear, but he caught each clause with quick precision and repeated them without a hitch.
He smiled and congratulated himself: “I got ye that time, old cull!”
The preacher's eyes sought Mary's:
“I, Mary, take thee, James, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
In the sweetest musical voice, quivering with happiness, the girl repeated the words.
Again the preacher's eyes sought Jim's:
AND THE MAN SHALL GIVE UNTO THE WOMAN A RING——
The groom fumbled in his pocket and found at last the ring, which he handed to Mary. The minister at once took it from her hand and handed it back to Jim.
The bride lifted her left hand, deftly extending the fourth finger, and the groom slipped the ring on, and held it firmly gripped as he had been instructed.
“With this ring I thee wed——”
“With this ring I thee wed——” Jim repeated firmly.
“——and with all my worldly goods I thee endow——”
“——and with all my worldly goods I thee endow——”
“In the Name of the Father——”
“In the Name of the Father——”
“——and of the Son——”
“——and of the Son——”
“——and of the Holy Ghost——”
“——and of the Holy Ghost——”
“Amen!”
“Amen!”
The voice of the preacher's prayer that followed rang far-away and unreal to the heart of the girl. Her vivid imagination had leaped the years. Her spirit did not return to earth and time and place until the minister seized her right hand and joined it to Jim's.
“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder!
“Forasmuch as James Anthony and Mary Adams have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a Ring, and by joining hands; I pronounce that they are Man and Wife, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The preacher lifted his hands solemnly above their heads.
“God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with His favor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. AMEN.”
The preacher took Mary's hand.
“Your father is my friend, child. This is for him——”
He bent quickly and kissed her lips, while Jim gasped in astonishment.
The minister's wife congratulated them both. The two older children smilingly advanced and added their voices in good wishes.
Mary whispered to Jim:
“Don't forget the preacher's fee!”
“Lord, how much? Will fifty be enough? It's all I've got.”
“Give him twenty. We'll need the rest.”
It was not until they were seated in the waiting cab and sank back among the shadows, that Jim crushed her in his arms and kissed her until she cried for mercy.
“The gall of that preacher, kissing you!” he muttered savagely. “You know, I come within an ace of pasting him one on the nose!”