A SURPRISE
DURING the night Frank decided that he would not argue with Jack again the question which was troubling them both, since it was too painful for discussion.
However, he did not sleep much, although not once did his conviction that he was doing the right thing waver. Frank had the belief in his own judgment which comes to certain people with authority. Also, he disliked to suggest to his wife any of the little, ugly, suspicious things of life, which he knew her fine, clean nature would not consider. But all the more for this reason did he believe that he should protect her, even against herself.
Therefore, at breakfast the next morning, Frank made no reference to Jack's final defiance the night before. Not for an instant did he think that she had meant anything, except to have him appreciate how utterly her point of view and her inclination differed from his. This he accepted, realizing that he reallycould not, under the circumstances, expect anything else. But that Jack would ignore his wish—even his expressed command—was beyond his comprehension. She had always been perfectly reasonable and amenable, and there was nothing to serve him as a warning.
"I'll let you know as soon as I hear from the war office," Frank remarked, as he left for London.
Jack simply nodded quietly in response without replying. As a matter of fact she, too, had made up her mind in the night not to reopen the subject upon which she and Frank were so completely at variance.
Perhaps Jack was wrong in this and in the whole proceeding which followed. Except to say that she had the right to use her own judgment—she never attempted to justify herself.
As soon as she had arranged her household matters and had seen her children, she went into her private sitting room and, by using her telephone for an hour or more, secured the information which she desired.
She was able to locate Captain MacDonnell and also to learn that he was still alive. Moreover, Frank telegraphed this same fact while she was still at the telephone.
Then Jack sent word for Olive and Frieda to come to her bedroom, and when they arrived she carefully closed the door.
They found her packing a small bag.
"What is it, Jack? Are you going up to London to join Frank?" Frieda inquired, she and Olive having been told nothing of the contents of Captain MacDonnell's letter, nor that there was such a letter in existence.
Jack had taken off her morning dress and put on a light flannel wrapper of pale grey with a white collar, as she wished to proceed with her packing more readily.
At Frieda's question she shook her head quietly and sat down in a big chair for a moment, asking Olive and Frieda also to be seated.
"No; I am not going to Frank," she explained, "indeed, although I am forced to go up to London, I don't want him to know I am there, nor where he can find me for the next day or so. Afterwards I will, of course, write to him."
Seeing that Olive and Frieda were becoming more mystified than enlightened by her explanation, and that she was in reality talking more to herself than to them, Jack hesitated for a moment.
"Perhaps you won't approve what I am planning to do any more than Frank does," Jack continued, "but Captain MacDonnell has written to ask that I come to him in France where he may be dying, and I am going. Frank has said I must not, but I am going anyway. I told him so last night, but I don't believe he understood I really meant what I said."
Jack spoke without any nervousness or sentimental excitement. She looked unhappy, but she also looked perfectly determined.
A little too surprised to answer at once, Frieda again studied her sister's face closely.
It was Olive who protested.
"I hope you won't be angry with me, Jack, and of course I cannot hope to influence you if Frank cannot; but I don't think you ought to do so serious a thing without Frank's consent. In any case, please don't go away without his knowing. You must know that this is not right and that Frank will probably be very hurt and angry."
Jack bit her lip for an instant without replying; then she said slowly, as if she fully weighed each word she uttered:
"Of course I realize you are right, Olive, and I am afraid Frank will be both the thingsyou say, and more than you may realize. I know, also, that I ought to see him again and tell him definitely just what I intend to do and why I intend doing it. But candidly, if I do, I fear that Frank will not permit it. He is not an American husband, and in any event there would be a scene between us. Frank would not understand at first that this time I intend to keep to my determination. We might quarrel and I don't wish that. It would make me even more unhappy and not save me in any way from Frank's displeasure."
"But, Jack, why do you think it is more important to do what Captain MacDonnell desires of you than what Frank wishes?" Frieda inquired, in the cool, matter of fact voice with which she usually, to other people's surprise, asked the leading question.
Jack did not change color. She returned her sister's look with her old clear, straightforward gaze.
"I am glad you asked me that, Frieda, dear," she responded, "because I don't want you or anybody else to think that is true. Nothing is so important to me as what Frank wishes, only this time I think he is making a great mistake, and is not being fair. Of course he does not intend this, and isthinking of me more than of any one else, but at the same time this is not a matter which I think Frank can decide for me. His judgment may be right from his point of view, but it isn't from mine. I have to do what I think is the fair thing, with the hope that I may be able to persuade Frank to see it the same way later on."
Olive made no response, but it was self evident that Jack had not convinced her.
Frieda, however, got up in her fluffy morning house gown and making a soft little rush forward, threw her arms about her sister's neck.
"Go ahead, Jack, then, and no matter what happens I'll stand by you and swear you've done the right thing to the bitter end. You have been more right than other people as long as I've known you. I would not pay any attention to Olive. I told you that Olive was getting to be an old maid and that old maids always take the men's side. Only you are not being rash, Jack, are you, so you won't have to suffer uncomfortable consequences afterwards?" Frieda concluded with a slightly plaintive and mysterious manner.
"You'll look after my babies for me, won't you, Olive? And Frieda, won't you try andget Frank into a good humor with me before I come back? I shall be gone only a few days; perhaps Bryan won't need me at all when I arrive. I am going up to London within two hours, but I'll get away from there as soon as I can and take the first channel boat possible. I must finish packing, but I'll see you again before I start."
As Jack's words and manner were both final, Olive and Frieda then left her. However, they did not separate but went together into Frieda's sitting-room.
There Frieda's expression grew as grave as Olive's.
"Somehow I wish Jack wouldn't. Maybe at the last moment she'll see Frank and change her mind," Frieda suggested, staring out at the winter landscape with her small nose pressed mournfully against the window pane like a discontented child. "I don't understand Frank's disposition very well. He is so different from Henry. Then he has changed a great deal. We never thought of his being autocratic when Jack married him, but he seems rather that way to me lately, though he is terribly nice and I am fond of him. I wouldn't be, though, if he was ever the least bit disagreeable to Jack.She is much too good for him or any other man. Isn't it like her to go rushing off in this quixotic fashion, knowing that lots of people will misunderstand her, just because Captain MacDonnell would like to feel her presence beside him, if anything has to happen to him? Well, I suppose that is exactly what I felt when I rushed to her the moment I left Henry? Only if Frank decides to be horrid it would be unfortunate for us both to be having trouble with our husbands at the same time. I suppose people would say it was because we did not have the proper bringing up when we were children."
"Don't be absurd, Frieda," Olive answered irritably. "Of course, Frank and Jack are not going to have any serious difficulty. She and Frank are quite different—"
Frieda swung her pretty self around.
"Don't you ever get tired of saying that to me, Olive Van Mater? Of course Jack is different, but I don't see that Frank is entirely unlike other men. Oh, I know you'll be shocked and angry at this and so would Frank and Jack, if they ever heard; but just the same I think Frank Kent is a little bit jealous of Jack's friendship for Captain MacDonnell. He would rather die than confess it to himself.I at least give him the credit for not knowing it, but it's true just the same."
"I think that is very horrid of you, Frieda."
Frieda shrugged her shoulders.
"Yes, I thought you would think so. Still, I do wish it was a whole week from today and Jack was safely home again. I am frightened about her taking such a trip alone; and as for my attempting to get my brother-in-law into a good humor after he learns that his august Highness has been disobeyed—well, the task is beyond my humble powers. In any case, Olive, you can break the news of Jack's departure to him."
But Jack spared both her sister and friend this ordeal. Instead, she wrote a very sweet letter to her husband, asking his pardon for what she was doing and confessing that she had no right not to have spoken of her intention to him again. But would he see that she must do what she believed to be right, and that Bryan might not be able to wait while they continued to argue the question?
She left the letter on Frank's bureau.
Not finding Jack in the library that evening, where she usually awaited his return home, Frank had gone directly upstairs, and when she was also not in her room, he entered hisapartment. The letter caught his attention at once, but even then Lord Kent had no faintest idea of what Jack's letter contained. He supposed she had gone out on some errand and had written to explain that she might be late.
When he had finished reading, he quietly tore her letter into small bits and flung the pieces upon the fire.
Afterwards, going downstairs to dinner, he said to Olive and Frieda.
"Jack has written me a note telling me that she has gone to France. You both probably know I did not wish her to go. Please let us not speak of this matter again."
And though there was really nothing in what Frank said, neither Olive nor Frieda liked his expression or manner.
NO QUARTER
DURING the time of Jack's absence, Frank Kent passed through a strange state of mind, one which he did not himself understand. He was both angry and miserable. Resentment against another human being is always folly, since one suffers as much, if not more than the other person.
However, Frank did not answer a single one of Jack's letters, although she managed to write him several times, telling of her safe arrival, of the kindness which had been shown her along the way, and of Captain MacDonnell's recognition of her and his pleasure in finding an old friend near him. Jack also wrote that there was hope of his partial recovery, but that he would probably be unable to fight again. She would be able to tell more on her return home.
Two weeks after the day of her departure, Jack came back to Kent House. She had telegraphed when she reached British soil so that her family knew when to expect her.Frank was not at home when she arrived, so she saw her children and Olive and Frieda first. Then, after dressing for dinner, she went down into the library alone to wait for her husband.
Jack was very tired from the strain of her trip and from the sights she had witnessed in the past fourteen days. She felt as if she were entering a new world in coming back tonight to her home in the peaceful Kentish country. Whatever human beings might be suffering inwardly, there were at least no changes in the tranquillity of the blue hills and the gentle, mist-veiled English landscape.
It had required an effort for Jack to dress, but she did not know in what spirit Frank would meet her and did not wish to have him think she was too much exhausted by the experience which she had wilfully chosen for herself. She feared that Frank was still aggrieved, because of his not having written or sent her a message of any kind, and yet she rather hoped the reunion with her and the news she brought back would soften him.
Partly because of her fatigue, partly because it seemed impossible to wear gay clothes after those days and nights in the hospital, Jack had put on a black satin gown which she hadhad some time. It was made simply as her evening clothes always were, but the black tulle which covered it was caught with jet ornaments on each shoulder and loosely belted in at the waist, falling in beautiful lines to her feet. At her belt Jack wore a golden rose which the old gardener had brought up to the house as a special offering. The rose had bloomed that morning in one of the greenhouses. Jack's hair was coiled closely about her small head, and she had less color than usual.
She was resting in one of the big library chairs with her eyes closed, when she heard her husband enter the hall, and after making some inquiry, move toward the library door.
At this she rose up at once and ran forward with her arms outstretched to meet him, her face glowing with happiness.
"Oh, Frank, I am so glad to be at home again. It has all been so distressing. Poor Bryan is going to get well, but I fear he will hate it when he does, for he may never walk again. He does not know this yet."
Frank turned his eyes so that he could not see Jack's beauty nor appreciate her warm sweetness so close beside him.
"I am horribly sorry for Bryan," he replied.But he made no effort to kiss Jack or to express the least pleasure in her return. Instead, he walked away a few steps and began taking off his overcoat, which he had not removed before.
"You are still angry with me, Frank?" Jack queried, though the question was scarcely a necessary one. "You have not yet seen that I had the right to judge for myself in this thing about Bryan? After all, what possible wrong have I done? And I did give Bryan pleasure; he does not dream, of course, that I went to him without your consent."
Although Frank still remained silent, Jack's sweetness did not desert her. She followed after him, in spite of the fact that he had turned his back upon her.
"After all, Frank, even if you do continue to disapprove of me and to think I did wrong to disobey you, won't you make friends with me? Please say I'm forgiven?"
At this Jack smiled and stood with her hands clasped together against the soft, black folds of her dress.
In fact, she had not yet appreciated the extent of Frank's anger against her, nor the unbending quality of his nature. Thoughthey had been married a number of years, this was the first serious difficulty between them. Jack had too great an admiration for her husband, too deep a belief in him, to think that he could continue to sulk and to hurt her through a kind of stupid obstinacy.
And for a single instant Frank did hesitate, but the next he made up his mind that unless Jack was made to realize the extent of his displeasure she would probably never yield to him again. He honestly believed that he had the right to be the master in his own family.
"I presume, Jack, that you consider it a very simple matter for me to say I forgive you and to overlook your utter disregard of my wishes, and your deception in the matter. But I cannot see the thing in that light. You have not only wounded me, but you have made me ridiculous. To say I forgive you, or feel as I did before would not be the truth."
"Very well, Frank," Jack answered quietly and went out of the room.
A little later she came down to dinner, revealing no sign of what had taken place between herself and her husband and hoping that Frieda and Olive would not guess thatshe was still unforgiven. Frank's manner was perfectly polite and they talked freely of Captain MacDonnell and of the tragedy of his recovering only to find his work as a soldier ended.
Afterwards, Jack excused herself early in the evening, because, of course, she had every reason to feel weary.
But even if Frieda and Olive did not grasp the situation at once, they could not continue to remain long in ignorance, for Jack and Frank did not return to their old intimacy and devotion.
But, as the days went on, this was, perhaps, as much Jack's fault as her husband's.
Never before had she ever made an overture to any human being who had not responded. Moreover, she could not tell Frank that she was sorry for what she had done, for she was not sorry, nor did she regret her own action. She was merely disillusioned concerning her husband.
Always Jack had said that she had more of the Indian in her than Olive ever had, in spite of Olive's upbringing. By this she meant that for one thing she could hide better the things that hurt her. Yet in a way she was difficult for anyone to approachon an intimate subject at this time, certainly neither Olive nor Frieda made any mention that they saw her continuing trouble with Frank.
Unconsciously Jack held her head up before people unfailingly. No outsider would have guessed at any change. Only those who cared for her deeply realized how she was hurt by Frank's attitude.
Several times it occurred to Frank that perhaps he and Jack were making a mistake to allow their estrangement to go on too long. The next time his wife asked his pardon Lord Kent had concluded to forgive her.
Moreover, he and Frieda had an interview which annoyed and amused him, but which he did not forget then, or ever afterwards.
It was one Sunday afternoon in early March, an unexpected spring-like day, and he and Frieda were taking a motor ride together. They had only one small car on the estate, having sent the large one to be turned into an ambulance.
After their midday dinner Frank had found himself in need of diversion, Olive and Jack having explained that they were going to see a friend who was ill. And as a matter of fact Frieda diverted Frank from serious affairsmore than any other grown up person he knew and consequently he fell in readily with her suggestion for the ride. He had not the faintest idea that she was not in a friendly mood toward him, for Frieda had wisely concealed the fact, although in reality she was thoroughly enraged.
It seemed to her that Frank's treatment of Jack was almost unpardonable. It is true that she, perhaps, had rather an exaggerated opinion of her sister's virtues, but then Jack had been a kind of mother to her always. Although they quarreled a little now and then, as most sisters do, it was beyond Frieda's comprehension that anyone could believe Jack would wilfully do wrong, or be forced to suffer the consequences. Moreover, what Frieda still thought of as her own "misfortune" made her particularly "touchy" at present.
However, she and Frank started off cheerfully, Frank admiring an especially pretty bright blue motor coat and small close fitting blue silk hat, which Frieda had purchased in New York a few days before sailing. Nevertheless Frieda had already planned to have a talk with Frank before their return and only awaited the proper opportunity.
She was quiet at first, allowing her brother-in-lawto tell her stories about the country and his neighbors, stories in which she was really not much interested. But Frieda smiled and answered, "yes and no," at the proper times, and this was what Frank really wished. Most men would rather talk intimately to women than to other men and Frank had missed his long hours of conversation with Jack more than he appreciated.
Yet Frieda's inattention finally forced itself upon his notice, so that her brother-in-law turned and smiled at her.
"What are you thinking about, Frieda? Certainly not of what I just said to you."
Frieda turned her large blue eyes with their heavy golden lashes half veiling them toward her companion.
"Still I was thinking of you, Frank," she answered, smiling, "and that is the attention men like best, isn't it?"
Lord Kent laughed. "Perhaps as a matter of vanity, yes, Frieda? But of course a good deal depends upon what one is thinking. What were you thinking of me?"
"Oh, only how unlike you and Henry are," she replied sweetly.
However, Frank understood something of her hidden meaning, for he flushed.
"Well, considering the fact that you didn't find it possible to continue to live with 'Henry,' I suppose I ought to be flattered. Only as a matter of fact, Frieda, I admire Professor Russell very much."
This time Frieda flushed, realizing that Frank had scored.
"Yet even though that is true, Frank, Henry never took the tone with me of insisting that he was always right and I was always in the wrong. Do you know, Frank, I am beginning to think—oh well, Henry was never so horrid to me as you are to Jack. He isn't a bit of a bully."
"So you think I am 'horrid' to Jack and a bully besides, do you, Frieda?" Frank returned grimly. He was angry, but not as angry as he felt he had the right to be. Somehow he could not manage to get into a violent state of mind with his youthful sister-in-law.
Frieda nodded energetically in response, without appearing the least bit frightened.
"Of course you are going to think I am interfering, Frank, and no oneeverpays any real attention to what I say, but I just thought I'd tell you anyhow. You are making a big mistake. Of course I realize that you are not so silly as not to appreciate Jack, but I don'tbelieve you have ever thought what it might mean to lose her. You see she isn't like most women, she really does not know how to quarrel for any length of time. But when she was hurt or seriously angry as a girl she used to keep still for a long time not saying a word. Then she used to do something unexpected." Frieda's voice shook a little with stronger feeling than she often showed.
"I've been afraid lately that Jack might do something queer now, something no one of us dreams she would think of doing. She is so very unhappy. You remember, Frank, don't you, what a long time it took you to win Jack? I wonder if it might not take you even longer to win her back again!"
Frank stiffened. "I cannot discuss my relations with Jack, even with you, Frieda. That is a matter between us alone."
Frieda nodded pensively.
"Certainly I appreciate your point of view, Frank, from my own sad experience."
THE BREAK
BUT Frank did give careful consideration to what Frieda had said to him. Her words came as a kind of revelation. Suddenly he began to appreciate what it would mean to lose Jack, though of course there was no possibility of such a thing. She was one of the most loyal persons in the world and they had only had a difference of opinion.
Yet Frank decided that it would be best to let bygones be bygones and to mention the fact to Jack at the first possible opportunity.
But somehow he seemed to have to wait for the opportunity to arrive; certainly his wife did nothing to help him.
One night, coming home at the usual hour, Frank discovered that Jack was not there. She had gone out a little before lunch on some errand, as Olive and Frieda supposed, but leaving no word except that they were not to wait luncheon for her.
Frieda and Olive, Frank found, were both alittle uneasy. He laughed at the idea. Jack had a great many things to attend to in the neighborhood and knew everybody, while everybody knew her.
Afterwards, he went upstairs to the nursery and stayed half an hour watching Vive and Jimmie being put to bed. When he came down to the library to read, twilight was falling. But instead of reading Frank found himself turning over the pages of the magazines, gazing at them, and not knowing a word of their contents.
In a few moments it would be dinner time.
He got up and walked nervously up and down the room.
If Jack did not come in by dinner or send a message what would it be wise to do?
A few moments later he telephoned two or three places where he thought Jack might have remained later than she realized. But she had not been at any one of the houses during the day, and naturally Frank did not wish to ask too many questions, since she might return home at any moment. It would then appear absurd to have started false rumors, or to have created anxiety among their friends.
When the butler came in to announce dinner,Lord Kent explained that Lady Kent was not yet at home and that dinner be kept waiting for another half an hour.
Soon after Frieda joined him.
"I know I am silly, Frank," she confessed, "but I am worried. If Jack had gone out on horseback, one might understand that she could have gotten some distance away. But she did not ride, she walked, and could not have continued walking since before noon."
"You are an infant, Frieda," Frank remarked. "Of course Jack has been paying visits and has stayed too long. But perhaps I had best go and look for her, unless she has found a friend to act as an escort it is too late for her to be out alone."
"But where are you going to look?" Frieda questioned. And either her brother-in-law did not hear her, or preferred to pretend he did not, since he made no reply.
The fact of the matter was he had no plan. He thought it was rather absurd for him to look at all, but had suddenly been overtaken with a sense of uneasiness, a strange foreboding of disaster. We all yield to these sensations now and then, but as they were not usual with Lord Kent he was the more uncomfortable.
He could not even decide whether it would be wiser for him to ride or to walk, but concluded he had best ride, in order to cover a greater distance in a shorter time.
He searched very carefully for Jack down the long road which divided the estate. And naturally he remembered the other evening, not so very many months ago, when he had ridden down this same avenue peering through the rain for her and Captain MacDonnell. Then he had discovered both of them with but little difficulty.
Tonight Frank wished that he felt sure Jack had someone with her to take care of her, as she had on that other evening. He would not then have felt so ridiculously worried.
"Poor Bryan, one did not like to allow oneself to think of him too often these days, yet he must be brought back home as soon as possible," Frank thought. Some time ago he had decided that when the time came he would himself go for Bryan. Perhaps this would be partly an act of expiation, although Lord Kent had not said this to himself, or to his wife.
This evening he rode directly into the village, but although it was only a little aftereight o'clock, Granchester had long practiced the daylight saving habit, not because of the war, but because of a fixed habit of early sleep and early rising. There were only two or three scattered lights in the little stone houses and only a few old men outdoors talking together in front of a closed public house.
Nevertheless Frank rode up to the home of Frieda's old friend and dismounted, for he had known Mrs. Huggins many long years. She was accepted by everybody as a kind of unprinted village newspaper. If Jack had been in Granchester during the afternoon, Mrs. Huggins would know just where she had been and what she had done.
The old woman's light was out, but a moment after his knocking she opened her door. In her hand she held a lamp and her old eyes shone through the half darkness.
She was probably excited by the idea that someone had come to confide a piece of news to her.
However, she had heard nothing of Lady Kent's having been in the village during the day, and was in fact sure she had not been there.
When Lord Kent went away, however,she still seemed to think he had brought her news.
"There is trouble in the big house, also," she said to herself, wagging her old head. "Funny how when trouble of one kind gets loosed in the world, so many other kinds follow it." Even after she had gone back to bed she still kept thinking of Kent House.
Later, just before he was leaving Granchester, Frank telephoned to his home.
Frieda came to the telephone to say that no word had yet come from her sister.
Nevertheless Lord Kent could not make up his mind to ask for aid in his search. He had a curious antipathy toward it, as if Jack herself would not like this, as if in some way it might lead to a revelation they would not wish others to share.
This was what made all his efforts so difficult. For each added moment he was becoming more and more worried, and yet having to pretend that Jack's failure to return home, her failure to send any word of her whereabouts, was the most casual thing in the world.
There were several places belonging to friends and not far from the village. Lord Kent stopped by at each place for a fewmoments, as if he were making an ordinary visit, but of course to find out if Jack had called during the day. Apparently no one of her friends had seen her.
At Captain MacDonnell's home, Frank inquired for the housekeeper. Mrs. Naxie was still in charge and she and Frank were old friends. She had been with Captain MacDonnell's uncle years before when he and Bryan were both little boys.
Lord Kent was not ashamed to reveal his anxiety to Mrs. Naxie, and she at least had a little information for him, the first he had secured.
"Yes, Lady Kent had stopped by a little before tea time and had seemed tired. She explained that she had eaten no lunch, but enjoyed her tea, and then started away again. Mrs. Naxie was under the impression she intended going directly home.
"There was nothing more for him to do but to go home also," Frank then concluded. If Jack had not returned and nothing was known of her, he must throw away his scruples and ask for help.
It was now fully night and the sky filled with high, sweet stars.
Although he yearned to be at home at once,still Frank searched all the roads, stared behind the tall hedges, and now and then in the darkness called his wife's name. Nevertheless he continued to assure himself that he was behaving like a fool and there was no real reason for him to feel so alarmed. He had always been ridiculously nervous about Jack and always before now she had laughed at him.
It was not until he had almost reached the beginning of his own land that Frank was finally honest with himself. He had fought against confessing the fact that he was to blame every moment since he first began to grow uneasy about Jack. Had they been good friends these past few weeks he knew he would not have been half so miserable. Whether he had been right or wrong, he had realized that Jack had been anxious to make peace and he had repulsed her. He would wait for no comfortable opportunity now, as soon as he found his wife, they must be reconciled.
Near the edge of Kent Park, where the land dipped, there was a small stream, deep in some places, and yet hardly to be dignified by the title of river.
Yielding to an impulse Frank got off hishorse here and walked slowly along the bank. The stream was so narrow he could see almost equally well on the farther side.
The trees and underbrush made shadows on the surface where the water was deepest.
Suddenly Frank thought he saw one of the slender, young birches move a step toward him. The next he heard Jack's voice say:
"Frank, is that you?"
Then she came slowly toward him.
The strange fact was that she did not appear surprised, nor did she begin by offering any explanation of her own strange behavior, nor why she should be found at such an hour in such a place.
"Sit down for a little while will you please, Frank? The ground is not particularly damp in some places, I have been sitting here a long time."
Frank made no reply except to do what she liked. He knew that something had happened which was of tremendous seriousness to Jack. If that were true, then whatever it was, was equally so to him.
"You are not ill, are you, dear?" he inquired, after he had let go his bridle and taken a seat beside his wife. His horse would only wander about near by.
Jack shook her head.
"I was dizzy and very tired a little while ago, I don't know just how long. I sat down here to rest and fell asleep for a time. I am quite all right now." And indeed Jack was now speaking in a natural voice. One must remember it was not so unusual for her, as it would be with most other girls and women, to take her problems outdoors when she wished to solve them.
"There is something I want to say to you, Frank. I have been making up my mind to speak of it for some time. This afternoon I knew I had to decide. I went off for a long walk and now I have decided."
Jack was sitting very still a few feet away from her husband. He now moved over and put his arm about her, but though she made no movement to resent it, she showed no sign of pleasure or of yielding.
"I want to go home, Frank?" she continued.
And for an instant believing she meant Kent House, Frank started to rise. The next he understood his mistake.
"I mean I want to go back to the Rainbow ranch to see Jim and Ruth and Jean, but Jim most of all," she added, this time with a little break in her usually steady voice.
"Please don't answer, Frank, until I have explained to you a little better. I know it seems horrid to leave you alone and to take the babies away, when you are so worn out with your work and so sad over all the wretched tragedy of the war. You will miss the babies, even if you will not particularly miss me. Still I'll have to go, Frank. I can't live on with you not forgiving, not caring for me any more. I won't stay long unless you wish it and I'll come back whenever you send for me. But I must go; it has seemed to me lately as if I could not breathe."
Jack turned her face directly to her husband, and although it was too dark to see it distinctly, he could catch the dim outline.
"You see until lately I never dreamed that when things came to a crisis, to a question of right, to a question of my judgment, or my conscience, you would not be willing to let me do as I decided and thought best. I knew you liked me to follow your way in little things and I never minded most times. Often I was glad to do as you wished and when I didn't agree to your way, I never considered the fact seriously one way or the other. But lately I have seen that if we go on living together, I have got to be a coward, a kind oftraitor to myself by always appearing to agree with you, or else live with you and have you angry and dissatisfied with me. I cannot bear either. Marriage does not mean that to me, Frank. I have to get away for a little while to see if I can find out what I should do."
There was no sign of anger in Jack's manner, if she had been feeling angry lately, and of course she had being perfectly human, her anger had disappeared tonight during the long hours she had been thinking things out alone.
Sitting beside his wife, suddenly as she finished speaking Frank recalled something Frieda had lately said to him. Perhaps Frieda had more brains than her family and friends realized. However, what she had said was that whenever she was angry or wounded, her sister Jack was apt to go off to herself and then do something unexpected.
Surely his wife's request tonight was wholly unexpected.
But Frank only answered, not revealing what he felt, nor what he intended.
"I think this is a pretty severe punishment, Jack, if you think I am unfair. But you must let me take you home to Kent House now; Olive and Frieda are both dreadfully worried to know what has become of you."
PROFESSOR AND PROFESSORESS
WHEN it was finally decided that Jack was to go home to the Rainbow ranch with her babies and Olive and Frieda for a visit, Frieda strenuously objected. No reason was given her by her sister except the ordinary one, that Jack wished to get away from the sad atmosphere of a country at war and also to see her family.
"Certainly you don't show much consideration for Frank," Frieda protested when she first heard the news. "It seems to me that England ishiscountry and he has a good deal more work to do and goes through a lot more than you do, Jacqueline Ralston. I never could make up my mind to leave my husband under such circumstances."
Then although Jack flinched, she did not make the reply she might so obviously have made.
However, Frieda went on just as if she had.
"I know what you are thinking of, but it was quite different with Henry and me. Hedid not need me, he thought I was a butterfly and my wishing to go out and dance and do exciting things disturbed his work. He didn't allow me to go with other people because he thought it was hisdutyto look after me. He said so, said I was too young to be expected to take care of myself. He wasn't a bit jealous like Frank, I shouldn't have minded a jealous husband. If I said he was jealous, I was only pretending because I wanted to seem interesting."
"Frank jealous?" Jack laughed. "You are too silly, Frieda."
Nevertheless Frieda tossed her yellow head, but also flushed a little, having said more than she intended. If Frank did not know he was jealous of Captain MacDonnell and Jack was also unaware how much this had unconsciously influenced his decision concerning his friend's request, it was not her place to tell them.
"Just the same you'll be sorry and ashamed of yourself some day, Jack Ralston. You need not pretend anything to me, I understand the present situation perfectly. Frank was rather horrid to you and he ought not to be allowed to be a bully, but you could really twist him around your finger if you tried. Youcan now at any rate because he adores you. And Frank is pretty nice you know, most women would be glad to have him. After all he has a title and money, and men are going to be scarce when this war is over."
"Frieda!" Jack exclaimed in such a tone of disgust that Frieda departed hastily, if still gracefully, out of her sister's room.
However she stopped at the door.
"You know it will look perfectly absurd for us both to go back home without husbands," Frieda tossed out. "I didn't mind half so much when Frank was around and there was at least one man in our family. But of course it looks now as if we had something the matter with us, horrid dispositions, so that no man could make up his mind to live with us."
This time Jack betrayed herself a little more by showing anger.
"You have no right to assume I am behaving as you did, Frieda, because I want to go to the old ranch for a time. Frank has given me his consent, I've no idea of running away."
Then, as Frieda burst into tears at the allusion, Jack had to draw her small sister back into her room from the doorway, anddo what she could to apologize and console her.
She felt rather a hypocrite, too, because after all Frieda was not so far wrong in some of her suppositions, and she had had no right to pretend to superiority.
There was at this time no danger to passenger vessels through submarines, so that it was arranged for the travelers to leave for the United States early in April that they might spend the spring at the Rainbow Ranch.
Olive was anxious to go. She had not intended remaining in England so long, and wished to take up some course of study at home, to return later when she might make herself more useful.
Jack was torn between her desire to make a visit to her own home, to get away for a breath of freedom and the chance to decide what she ought to do in the future when Frank opposed her right to decide important issues for herself and the thought that, perhaps, Frieda was right and that she was not playing fair in leaving her husband at so trying a time. But Frank had not opposed her going, had really said he thought it might be a good thing, and she did not know whether he meant this from her standpoint or from his own.It might be that Frank also would enjoy a certain relief from the presence of a wife who would not trust his judgment. Certainly Frank's affection had never seemed the same since that time. He had been wonderfully good in agreeing to her new wish, but there were moments when, womanlike, Jack wondered if she would not have liked it better had he shown more opposition.
So there was only Frieda who unqualifiedly stormed against leaving. Of course she put it all on disapproving of her sister's action, but naturally her family wondered if the fact that Frieda wished to be near her husband, whom she believed to be fighting in France could have anything to do with her point of view. However, no one dared to make this suggestion to her. It would have done no good in any case since she would probably have promptly denied it.
However, Frieda would not remain in England without her sister and Jack was unwilling that she should. Nevertheless, insisting on maintaining the attitude of an aggrieved character, Frieda separated herself from her own family whenever she could.
Twice a week for instance she went into Granchester to tea with Mrs. Huggins.Frieda had a private reason for this. One day she had overlooked the fact that her own "Dame Quick" had not been her nurse or foster mother and had confided to the old woman some of the things which were troubling her. She did not want advice, what she wanted was to say those things aloud which she had been saying to herself, and she knew her old friend would simply listen and be kind to her. One might think she would have feared that the old woman, with her passion for spreading news, would have gossiped about her, but Frieda knew better than this.
One afternoon, about ten days before their sailing time, Frieda started off alone to walk to Granchester. She was earlier than need be since Olive had asked her a question which had offended her and she had been irritable. She thought she had caught the suggestion of a lecture in her sister's expression and so had hurried off before Jack had a chance to speak.
Frieda recognized the fact that she was a little difficult to live with these days. But then she excused herself by saying that no one knew how worried and nervous she was. There were times when Frieda was afraid she might be losing her prettiness through worry, until her mirror reassured her. ForFrieda understood her own appearance, just as she understood a great many things. She knew that Jack had developed into a beauty from a merely handsome girlhood and that she was only pretty. But she also realized that prettiness often makes more appeal, especially to men, than a higher type of loveliness. Therefore, Frieda had no idea of not preserving her own charms as long as she possibly could.
She walked slowly so as not to arrive too early and because she was enjoying the country more than she usually did. The quietness of the English landscape, its look of a carefully kept garden, appealed to Frieda more than the vastness of her own windswept western prairies. It was one of the many odd ironies of fate that Jack, who loved the prairies must live in England, while until lately Frieda's life had been cast at least on the edge of the western country.
The old English laborers passing back and forth from their ploughing of the spring fields were almost the only persons she met.
When Frieda reached the little house at the edge of the village, of which Mrs. Huggins had once told her some story, she stopped for a moment without any particular motive.
She did not remember exactly what the story was, if she had ever known. But the little house rather interested her. For one thing she had noticed every time she passed, at no matter what hour, the blinds were always drawn halfway down.
The house was set in the middle of a small yard and had a little, low ivy covered stone fence surrounding it and a wooden gate. However, the front of the house was only a few yards from the street so that one could see it distinctly.
Frieda was not standing still, but was loitering a few feet from the gate, gazing absently toward the lower windows.
Then suddenly and certainly unexpectedly she heard a strange noise, a kind of muffled roar. Then an explosion burst forth so that several panes of window glass broke and puffs of smoke blew out.
For an instant there appeared back of the window, and surrounded by the smoke like a cherubim among clouds, a face which Frieda did not really believe she saw. Yet of course she knew she did see it, or else was suddenly mad or dreaming.
As a matter of fact she had the sensation that she was taking part in a ridiculous andimprobable detective story, of the kind one reads in the weekly magazines.
Yet without hesitating, or feeling the proper amount ofuncertainty, or fear, Frieda jerked open the little wooden gate and rushed up the path to the front door of the house.
There at least she did stop to give the bell a fierce pull, but she might have rushed in had she supposed the door unlocked.
However, the next second a little white faced maid appeared at the door, and Frieda simply swept by her. The door of the room, where she had seen the apparition, was on the left side of the hall and without knocking she opened this. Just how Frieda would have explained her own behavior had she made a mistake did not trouble her.
But she had not made a mistake. There standing in the centre of the room and still somewhat surrounded by smoke and with the blood coming from an injury to his hand, stood the person whose face Frieda believed she had seen through the broken window. No, she did not really believe she had seen it, though of course she knew she had.
"Are you a deserter, Henry, hiding from justice?" Frieda demanded scathingly, and still following the example of the methodemployed in detective stories, since her experience was so exactly of the same kind.