I Assure You I Have Official PermissionI Assure You I Have Official Permission
"I most certainly am not, my dear," Professor Russell answered firmly, but still somewhat apologetically.
"I was slightly wounded soon after my arrival at the front. But I also found that my scientific knowledge could be of more service than my abilities as a soldier. So I came back to England and have been experimenting with gas bombs with that in mind. I assure you I have official permission."
"Then why have you been hiding and why did you come down here?"
Professor Russell looked at Frieda and smiled slowly.
"You are the answer to both those questions, Frieda."
Unexpectedly Frieda's blue eyes filled with tears.
"I don't see how you can say that, Henry, when you have never even tried to see me, or to let me know what had become of you. You knew I was suffering horribly for fear you might be hurt or dead or something and you wouldn't write me."
Professor Russell's lips twitched at the thought of his being blamed for not writingafter the worst had happened to him. But he made no other sign.
"You are mistaken, I have seen you, my dear, many a time when you have passed this window and at least I have had the satisfaction of realizing you were well and happy."
"But I am neither," Frieda protested. "Besides I don't understand how you knew, unless, unless—do you mean Frank and Jack were both aware that you were here and never told me? They preferred I should suffer. I shall never forgive either of them, never." And Frieda drew herself up, very stately and very injured. But in truth her lips were trembling.
"You are not to blame your sister or brother, Frieda," Professor Russell interrupted. "They have simply done what I asked, what I required of them. You came over to England to be rid of my presence. I had neither the desire nor the right to thrust myself upon you."
"Then I don't see why you didn't go and live somewhere else," Frieda remarked petulantly. But at the same instant she sank down into a chair.
"I do wish, Henry, you would give me some tea. You seem to have an extraordinarylooking little girl to look after you. And I feel very much overcome from the shock of hearing an explosion outside a strange house and then seeing your face floating in space on the inside. Moreover, if you are so extraordinarily scientific I should think you would know enough to go and wash that gas bomb out of your hand."
This time Professor Russell openly laughed.
"It is scarcely a gas bomb inside my hand, Frieda. One of the chemicals simply went slightly wrong."
But Frieda had closed her eyes and dropped her head back and really looked so pale that her husband hurried out after his small maid and the tea things.
The moment he had disappeared however she opened her eyes again.
"I am going to take Henry Russell back to the United States with me in ten days," she remarked aloud, but in a very small whisper. "I don't know how I am going to manage him or the British Government, but I am going to, somehow. I thought I was bored with Henry and I was and I'll probably be again. But I suppose all women are bored with the men they live with sometimes. Anyhow, I had to think I had lost Henry to know I wanted tokeep him. He does get a little upset now and then when I want my own way all the time, but really under the same circumstances I don't suppose any other man would be half so nice to me as Henry is. Besides, oh well, I believe I'm pretty fond of him."
When Professor Russell returned, Frieda again managed to have her eyes closed and she really was upset by the events of the past few moments, as was to be expected.
Therefore she seemed very languid while Professor Russell and his little maid set out the tea things. She did offer faintly to help, observing that her husband had full use of only one hand. But as it was his left hand and he insisted on getting along alone, she permitted it, even to the actually pouring and handing her of the first cup of tea.
Later he took a seat in a chair opposite her.
The unfortunate thing with Frieda was that she seldom could control her appetite, had never been able to since her chocolate drop days. So she concluded she had best begin her plan of procedure early.
"I don't see how Jack and Frank could have told you I was well, Henry," she said plaintively. "I don't suppose you have noticed but I have lost a good many pounds."
As a matter of fact Frieda had lost several pounds, although she was still reasonably rounded.
"No, I had not noticed before, but I observe you have," the Professor returned. "I trust there is nothing serious the matter. What is the doctor's opinion?"
Frieda shook her head. "I have not seen a doctor. Really, I have not spoken of this to any one before, Henry. But do you know I think, perhaps, I have not been well for a good many months, even before I left Chicago. Maybe that is what made me cross sometimes, Henry. Maybe that's why I ran away without telling you I was going. I really think I ought to have talked the matter over with you, Henry. You would have been quite willing for me to make Jack a visit wouldn't you, Henry, just as Frank is allowing Jack to go home to the ranch?"
Frieda's hand holding the tea cup shook a little.
"But I didn't know this was a visit, Frieda. I thought you had gone away for good. Indeed, I am under the impression that you said you never wished to see me again."
Frieda shook her head.
"I never could have really said that,Henry, or if I did, you were silly to think I meant it. I often say lots of things I don't mean. And I have wanted to see you lots lately."
Professor Russell took Frieda's cup away and laid firm hold on both her hands.
"Look at me, Frieda," he ordered quietly, "and don't answer me until you have thought carefully about what you wish to reply. You have been a child a long time, Frieda, but my dear, you have to grow up. All of us must sooner or later. I am a good deal older than you and not only that but I care for a lot of things which seem dull and uninteresting to you. So do you care for things which do not seem vital to me. But I'm willing to confess I'm an old fogy and sometimes I believe, Frieda dear, I did you a great wrong when I married you at such a youthful age. I want you to know, my dear, that I want to do whatever is best for your happiness. I am willing to go out of your life, to relieve you of me altogether if in any way it can be managed without reflection upon you."
"Then you mean you don't love me any more, Henry, you can't forgive me for what I did," Frieda gasped, turning really honestly pale this time. Professor Russell shook his head.
"I don't mean any such thing, Frieda child. Moreover, you know perfectly well that I don't and that it is exceedingly reprehensible for you to go on flirting in this way with your own husband unless you also care for him."
Frieda sighed with satisfaction and lifted up her face to her husband, plainly suggesting by her expression what she expected him to do.
The moment after, she said, with that funny look of gravity which no one ever paid any special attention to from her.
"Do you know, Henry, if you say things like that to me oftener, I feel sure I will care for you more. But please get your hat and come with me now, I want to introduce you to a very dear, old friend of mine in Granchester. Afterwards, if your hand does not hurt, you must go up to Kent House with me to dinner. I intend to let Jack and Frank know that I can manage my own affairs and do not in the future intend to be kept in the dark as if I were a silly child."
The Professor obeyed orders.
THE OLD RANCH
IT was a wonderful May day when Frieda and her Professor, Jack and her two babies and nurse, and Olive arrived at the Rainbow Ranch.
Jim and Ruth Colter and Jean Merritt, who was their own Jean Bruce, of the old Ranch Girl days, drove down to the same funny little frame station to meet them. But beside the automobile they brought a great wagon, which Jim drove himself, in order that they might take up to the house as many trunks and as many people as could not be stored away in the car.
Jack insisted on returning home alongside Jim, seated on the driver's seat, her feet still not quite touching the floor.
She had put her babies in the automobile, with Ruth and Jean, so that they might make each others' acquaintance. Moreover, she had a sentiment in wishing to reach the old ranch with Jim as her companion. No matter what had happened to her, no matterwhat should happen in the future, Jim, who was her first friend, the manager of the old ranch, and her own and Frieda's guardian, would remain her best friend to the end of the chapter.
She knew, too, that Olive cherished many happy memories, while Frieda was beatific these days in the company of her Professor.
Jack felt a singing in her heart and in her ears as she saw the wide meadows now blossoming with purple clover and heard the western larks rising high over the land, dipping toward it again, then soaring higher up, as if they threw aside the call of the earth for the loftier one of the air.
Jim and Ruth with their children, and Jean and Ralph Merritt and their little girl, when they were at the ranch, lived in the great house which the Ranch girls had built after coming into their fortune through the discovery of the mine on their place. But the old Rainbow Lodge, where they had all lived as little girls when it was rather hard to make expenses in the dry seasons in Wyoming, had never been torn down. Indeed, as a special request from Jack it had been kept in perfect repair and still remained simply and comfortably furnished.
Whenever there were too many guests atthe big house, some of them were sent down here, and more often, when he could bear the ways of high society no longer, Jim escaped to the old lodge for a quiet smoke and perhaps an hour to himself. Now and then Ruth, his wife, would come to join him, and they would talk of the early days at the ranch and their first meeting, when Ruth was a prim New England schoolmarm.
So, as a favor, Jack had asked that the old Lodge be given over to her use while she was at home. She and the babies would come up to the big house for their meals, except at night when the babies could be better taken care of at the Lodge. This would give all the more room for the others.
So, as Ruth, Jim and Jean, realized that Jack sincerely wished this arrangement, they had agreed with her desire. Jack had married so soon after the building of the house, which Frieda had named "The Rainbow Castle," that she had never learned to feel any particular affection for it. So in coming home she wished to return to the house she had loved and remembered.
On either sideofthe old Lodge, Frieda's violet beds were still carefully tended and today were a mass of bloom.
Olive and Frieda and the Professor insisted on getting out first at the Lodge with Jack and Jim. When they entered the old living room it was so like the one they recalled that the three women, who were girls no longer, felt a sudden catching of their breath.
But of course Jim and Jean had arranged the old room to look as much like it formerly did as possible. They had the Indian rugs on the floor, the old shelves of books, with just the books the Ranch girls had owned long before, the great open fireplace and the tall brass candlesticks on the mantel.
Then before leaving for the station Jean had filled the room with bunches of violets, as Frieda had once been accustomed to do.
"It is still just the loveliest, homiest place in the world!" Frieda exclaimed.
Jack did not feel that she could speak for the first minute, and the next Jean had come running in carrying Vive in her arms and with Jimmie beside her. They were followed by Jean's own little daughter, Jacqueline, and by two other little girls, who belonged to Jim and Ruth and another Jimmie, who was somewhere between the biggest and the littlest Jim.
Then there was, of course, the immense confusionof the arrival and the settling of so large a number of guests. Besides there were so many children to be looked after who always must be considered first.
That evening there was a dinner at the big house, at which everybody talked a great deal, asked a great many questions and answered them. But in reality they were all too tired and excited to get much satisfaction from one another.
Afterwards, although Jim and Jack walked home alone to the Lodge, they did not try to say a great deal to each other. Only at parting Jim said, "Have a cup of coffee in the morning early, Jack. I have promised Ruth not to take you too far, but I've a new horse for you to try and I want you to have the first ride over the ranch with me, while the others are still asleep. You and I are the only ones who haveeverreally loved the dawn out here in God's country. Ruth has left some riding togs for you somewhere in your room."
Waking before six o'clock next morning, Jack was lying in bed breathing deeply of the sweet clover-scented air, when she heard a never to be forgotten whistle outside her window.
She stuck her head out.
"I'll be down in ten minutes, Jim. Is that the horse for me? Isn't he a beauty? But hitch yours and mine somewhere outside and open the Lodge door, I didn't lock it last night, and come in and start my coffee. I just opened my eyes this minute."
Ten minutes later, as she had said, Jack slid quietly downstairs so as not to arouse her children. She smelt the delicious aroma of the coffee in the old Lodge kitchen, once presided over by old Aunt Ellen, who had died a few years before. She also discovered Jim helping himself to the first cup when she appeared. But instead he gave it to her, got another for himself and handed her a napkin filled with sandwiches which Ruth had provided. Then they drank and munched as silently and contentedly as they always had in each other's company during many years and various experiences.
But they had both stepped out on the big front porch of the Lodge, when Jim suddenly swung round and put his hands on Jack's slender shoulders.
He had seen something in her face which the others had not, perhaps because he had always cared for her most.
"Ain't anybody been doin' anything toyou, you don't like, Boss?" Jim demanded, purposely breaking into the old careless speech he had used before Ruth's coming to Rainbow Ranch to educate them all, and Jim more than any one. "Because if anyone has, you know you can always count on your old pardner."
But Jack only laughed and shook her head rubbing it against his sleeve, as a young colt does. This had been one of the things she used to do as a girl, half as an expression of affection and half to conceal her embarrassment.
Then Jack ran out to where her horse was waiting. She had on a khaki riding costume, a new one, but except for that, pretty much of the same kind that she had been accustomed to wearing as Jacqueline Ralston.
She was now looking over the horse critically.
"He is one of the most perfect creatures I ever saw, Jim. I don't care what other people say, I like our fine western horses better than any others in the world."
"Try him, Jack," and Jim lifted her lightly up.
The next instant she had gone down the avenue like a streak of light, whirled and come back again.
"His movement seems perfect, too, but I'll have to give him more of a test before I can decide."
She then started off again with Jim Colter beside her.
"If you like him, Jack, the horse is a present from me. I got him and had him broken for you. I don't ever want anyone else to use him."
Jack's face flushed. "Jim, there never was anybody so good to me as you have always been, and no one who has ever understood me so well. I don't mean that there is much to understand, but what there is I know you believe the best of."
"Well, I don't expect there is anybody who began to know you as soon as I did, Jack," Jim Colter answered, realizing again that there was something behind Jack's words which she did not exactly wish to confide in him.
It was all very well for the rest of the family to say Jack didn't look a day older. She was better looking than she used to be, if that was what they were talking about, and her figure looked very slim and sweet and girlish, as she rode there beside him, as gracefully and as much at ease as ever. But Jack's expression was different, there were shadows under hereyes, no matter how her lips were smiling. Jim remembered that even if he had liked Frank Kent, he never had thought much of Englishmen as husbands for American girls.
But he said nothing more on the subject to Jack, only pointing out objects in the familiar, old landscape which they both loved, and realizing that if Jack had anything to tell him she would do so of her own accord later on.
They were late to breakfast, of course, so they found that all the others, having finished, were out on the lawn waiting.
"I suppose Jim tried to show you every horse and every cow on the ranch, Jack," Ruth began. "I hope you are not worn out, child. I told him to allow you one night's rest."
Ruth Colter was growing very matronly these days with her husband and son and two daughters to look after. She and Jim were to have two other daughters, to repeat as they always said, another group of four new Ranch Girls. But as yet only two had put in their appearance.
"Yes, and after she has had breakfast I want to take Jack and everybody down to the Rainbow Mine. I always feel it belongsmore to Ralph, and to me than to the others. Oh, simply because my husband was its first engineer."
Jean's eyes were as brown and velvety as ever and she wore that little expression of pride and self satisfaction that comes into the faces of so many women who are married to successful men. It is as if they shared the pride and glory of the success, without any of the effort or necessary disappointment.
"Remember, Henry, when you and Ralph were more or less blown up going down the shaft of the old mine. It was after that, Frieda adopted you."
The Professor nodded. "I had my legs broken didn't I, so I couldn't get away? Well, Frieda always prefers her victims helpless."
Frieda tossed her head and walked away as she always had done when any member of her family teased her.
Later in the day all the family and half a dozen visitors did go down to the old mine, which was still yielding a fair amount of gold, but not half so much as in the old days. Afterwards, lunch was served in the neighborhood of Rainbow creek and most of the day was spent outdoors.
Toward the close of the afternoon, however, everybody else wandered away leaving the four one time Ranch Girls together.
They were sitting in the afternoon sunshine on a patch of grass not far from the neighborhood of the creek.
Jack was lying down with her head resting in Olive's lap, Frieda was close to Jean and now and then putting her hand inside her cousin's for a moment. She and Jean had always been cronies in the old days, when the four of them had been divided into pairs over some small issue.
"I don't believe this is far from the place where Frank and I discovered the first gold in Rainbow creek," Jack remarked drowsily, a little worn out from the excitement of the day. "How filled the old ranch was with memories and thoughts of her husband!" Jack smiled to herself. Certainly she had been the impatient one and Frank the patient in those many months of her long illness.
Whatever anger Jack had felt in regard to her husband's autocratic attitude toward her, had entirely disappeared soon after saying farewell to him. But the puzzle was still present. Frank had been kind and sweet to her for the time before she left home. Butnever once had he frankly declared that in future he would be willing for Jack to decide important questions according to her own judgment, even as he must act by his own. And this was what Jack wanted, the sense of spiritual freedom.
"When is Frank coming over to join you, Jack?" Jean Merritt asked unexpectedly. "Ralph hopes to get home from his work at the canal in a few weeks and it would be a great pleasure if he and Frank could be here at the same time."
"Frank, oh, Frank isn't coming at all, Jean. He couldn't possibly leave his own country now, while they are at war. There is so much he feels he ought to do."
Jack hoped she was not blushing, but was painfully aware that Frieda's eyes were fixed somewhat critically upon her. Frieda was giving herself more airs than ever, now that she and her Professor were reconciled, and she had been able to persuade the British Government to allow her to bring him to the United States. The truth was the Professor had finished the scientific work he had undertaken, and in coming to his own country at the present time would be enabled to get hold of materials much needed in England.
Not actually realizing, but guessing at Jack's embarrassment, Olive remarked hastily.
"After all there is some advantage in being an old maid, one does not have to worry continually over being in the same place with one's husband. You will all have to come over to see my Indian School some day soon. Perhaps I am wedded to that."
"Nonsense, Olive," Frieda murmured, "but really I don't see why you have never married. You were obstinate enough about not accepting poor Don Harmon, but then you got most of your grandmother's money after all. Still you must have had other chances. You are as good looking as the rest of us and some people like brunettes best."
As Frieda's own yellow hair was at this moment unbound, so that it might get the air and sunshine, and as she looked at it with utter satisfaction as she spoke, her three companions laughed unrestrainedly.
"Oh, come now Frieda, you don't really believe anyone has such poor taste as that," Olive teased.
But at this instant seeing that Jack's nurse was coming toward them carrying Vive in her arms, Frieda got the best of the situation as she often did.
"Oh, well, perhaps the combination is prettiest after all. Vive is the only real beauty with her dark eyes and yellow hair."
Frieda held out her arms for the baby, who came to her with little ripples of happy laughter, and the two blonde heads, which were so nearly the same color, were held close together.
"I believe Vive really is the prettiest of all the children," Jean remarked critically, which was good of her, since she had a little girl of her own.
VIVE
SO the days and weeks passed on at the Rainbow Ranch, seeming to be uneventful and yet filled with quantities of pleasures and interests.
June came and the prairies were covered with wild flowers.
No one stayed indoors, except to sleep and eat, and oftentimes not for either of these things. Many nights Jack slept out on the Lodge verandah, sometimes with Olive or Jean, more often alone.
There were wonderful white nights such as only the west knows.
Jack used to love to lie and listen to the sounds she had long known and loved. A pair of owls in one of the old cottonwood trees held nightly conversations with each other, now and then screeching in such an irritated fashion that Jack laughed over their apparently human qualities.
Then far away from the house on theneighboring prairies she could hear the coyotes call to one another with warnings of danger.
These were excellent nights in which to think, for sometimes the moon made it almost too light for sleep. And Jack had a great deal to occupy her mind. Twice a week she wrote Frank and he wrote her with the same frequency, since at this time there were still two mail boats a week. But neither made any reference to their conversation on the evening when Jack had made her request to come home and given her reason.
Things in England were not going so well at this period as Frank had hoped, and he wrote chiefly of this. But he also said that he now received frequent news from Captain MacDonnell, who was growing better and now knew what fate had in store for him. He might be able to walk in the future, but only with crutches.
On several occasions Jack thought of deliberately asking her husband to come to some kind of an agreement with her for the future. Yet she hardly dared open a subject that might lead to differences between them, when they were so far apart, but she was very often lonely for him and sometimes repented having left England at all.
Jack, of course, was not always in this frame of mind. During the greater part of the time she was very happy.
A number of hours each day she spent on the horse Jim had given her, which she had named "Britain" in honor of her adopted country.
Now and then Jean and Olive and Frieda would refuse to ride, preferring some other amusement, but there was always Jim as a companion.
Jim Colter was now a successful and fairly wealthy ranchman owning a half interest in the Rainbow Ranch and having the entire ownership of the one adjoining it. But he continued to follow much the same routine as when he was only the manager for the Ranch girls.
That is, whenever it was possible, he rode over miles of the ranch land, watching the crops and his water supply, and carefully examining all his horses and cattle, when they seemed to need his attention.
Accompanying Jim on these excursions had been, not only one of Jack's chief amusements, but one of her serious occupations as a girl and it still greatly interested her. Besides, she and Jim saw each other under more favorable circumstances in this way than in anyother, and had more real opportunities for conversation.
But always Jack arranged to get back to the Lodge in time to see her children before they went to bed. They had an excellent nurse and of course there was all the rest of the family to look after them, but Jack had followed this custom at home, except under unusual circumstances and would not have given it up for a great deal.
Therefore she was worried one afternoon when Jim insisted upon staying out later than usual. She would have returned alone, except that Jim had found a young colt which had injured itself and wished Jack's help and advice in the care of it.
Finally, when they did get started for home, Jack rode ahead like the wind, calling back to her companion not to try to follow her unless he liked, as she knew he had some other matters on the place to look after.
By making unusual speed she hoped to reach home a few minutes before six, when Vive was put into bed and Jimmie ate his supper before following her.
Olive was waiting on the porch when Jack came into sight and went out to meet her before she had dismounted.
"What is it, Olive?" Jack asked sharply, as soon as she saw her. "Which one of the children is it? What has happened?" For it is a curious fact that a mother often feels this premonition of danger.
"There is nothing to be seriously frightened about, Jack," Olive replied quietly, "only little Vive isn't very well. Frieda and I had her with us for a little while this afternoon and she seemed somewhat languid. Frieda thought she had a little fever, so Ruth saw her and we have sent for the doctor. He will be here in another few moments."
Jack made no comment except to go swiftly indoors, leaving Olive to find some one to care for her horse.
She knew, of course, that Olive was telling her as little as possible.
Jimmie had been taken away to the other house, so Vive now occupied alone the big room at the Lodge which had belonged to Jack and Frieda when they were little girls.
It was simply furnished with a few rugs and wicker chairs and bright pictures and three little white iron cots.
In the smallest Vive lay apparently asleep on her pillow.
But Jack saw at once she was not asleep.Her exquisite little face was flushed a bright scarlet, her lids heavy and closed, and the strangest fact was that one of her little hands twitched unceasingly.
Now and then she opened her golden brown eyes, but without seeing or knowing anyone.
When the doctor arrived he made no effort to disguise the seriousness of Vive's condition. If she were to live it would be a fight and one of the hardest of all kinds, since they must simply wait and watch, with very little possible to do.
For some unknown reason, perhaps because there had been too much excitement from the trip, too much notice taken of her by too many people, Vive had meningitis.
But Jack was never a coward and it is scarcely worth saying that a mother's courage, so long as she thinks it can help her child, is the purest courage of all.
As soon as she heard the verdict, Jack went quickly to her own room and put on a white cotton dress. Afterwards, until Vive was better or worse, she would never leave her side for a moment.
But it is one thing to be brave when a shock comes and one has health and strength to meet it. It is another to keep up thatcourage hour after hour, day after day, when the strength is gone and the body and mind unconsciously sick with weariness.
There was a trained nurse, of course, and any member of her family would have done anything that was humanly possible to relieve Jack's vigil. But she would not be persuaded or argued into going out of her baby's room, and slept there in the hours when she did sleep, half awake and half dreaming, on a small cot by Vive's.
And most of the time Frieda stayed with her.
In a way it seems strange that it should have been Frieda. Olive, one would have supposed to be more sympathetic, Jean and Ruth had children of their own.
But some change had been taking place in Frieda for a good many months and she adored little Vive. Whenever any of the others disputed Frieda's right, she always said quietly that after all, she was Jack's only sister, and that if anything happened she must be the one to be by her.
If Jack's husband had been with her, why then it would have been different. So Frieda even waved away her devoted Professor, who feared she might be ill, by telling himthere would be time enough to think of her later on.
Although she and Jack sat side by side for many hours with their eyes on the baby, they but rarely spoke to each other.
Yet it was too pitiful to continue always to watch the movement of Vive's baby hands and her heavy breathing.
"If Vive dies do you think Frank will ever forgive me," Jack asked one night.
And true to herself Frieda tossed her yellow head.
"I don't see what Frank has to forgive? The point is will he ever forgive himself for having you go through all this alone?"
"But I ought not to have brought Vive away. Still I wouldn't mind anything if only Frank were with me."
A little later when the doctor arrived he said that the crisis would come within the hour and he would remain.
Olive and Jean waited in the Lodge living room, Jim had disappeared somewhere an hour before. Ruth Colter came into the nursery and stayed by Jack.
Half an hour passed. Then suddenly there was a strange, almost an unearthly silence in the room, and it was as if one could see thelittle white soul rise and float softly away like a bird.
The little figure in the cradle was still.
The doctor rose up.
"It is over," he said pitifully.
Frieda covered up her face, but Jack went over and looked down at Vive for a moment and then turned to the others.
"Please do not let anyone come with me," she asked. "I must go outdoors alone."
Then Jack went out past the living room, through the long avenue of tall trees, on farther and farther, not knowing where she was going.
The Rainbow Ranch, which she had loved better than any place in the world, had taken from her the human being, whom at this moment she believed she loved most.
Over Rainbow creek there hung a tiny yellow, crescent moon. It seemed to Jack that this, too, made her think of her baby, it was just as cold, just as perfect and as far away.
She stayed there a long time, then getting up she wandered on. She did not think whether her family would be uneasy, she did not care.
It seemed to her she never wished to go back again to the Lodge.
But finally a little clearer judgment came to her and she turned back.
It was almost dawn.
There, standing on the porch of the Rainbow Lodge, was a man's figure. Jack supposed it was Jim.
He started toward her and the next moment Jack was in his arms.
"Do you know, Frank?" Jack queried.
Frank drew her closer to him.
A little later she allowed Frank to lead her into the house, where she undressed and went to bed, with him sitting beside her.
She had made no inquiry about how he had arrived at such a moment. Jack had but one thought at this time, no others could enter her mind.
The facts were that Frank had left England ten days before bringing Captain MacDonnell with him. He had a mission from his Government so as to make the trip possible. But more than anything else he felt he must see his wife.
He had tried to write Jack, to tell her that he believed he had been unfair, that his obstinacy should never make an issue between them again. But it had all been sodifficult to write and it must be so long before he could receive Jack's answer.
Moreover, Frank wanted to bring Captain MacDonnell to the ranch to stay during his convalescence. Soon after Jack's departure he had gone over to France, as an act of expiation both to his wife and friend. There he had found Captain MacDonnell recovering, but infinitely depressed with the thought that he could no longer serve his country, but must be only a burden.
On the arrival of his steamer in New York Lord Kent had wired Jim Colter, but Jim had thought it best not to speak to Jack until Frank was able to reach her.
He had therefore sent him a wire telling of Vive's illness, and Frank had hurried west, leaving Captain MacDonnell with friends in New York city.
FAREWELL
ABOUT a week later Captain MacDonnell arrived at the Rainbow Ranch accompanied by a man servant who waited upon him. He looked better than any of his friends had anticipated.
Since there was so much sorrow in the world at the present time, Jack and Frank had made up their minds that they would not let their own influence other people more than they could avoid. Moreover, they had found each other again at just the right moment and were more devoted, more united than ever before. Frank explained his own change of attitude to his wife, but all the events of the past seemed small in comparison with their loss.
It was Frieda who for a while seemed the more outwardly inconsolable.
Actually the Professor came one day in distress to Jack herself.
"My dear Jack, I don't know what I shalldo with my little Frieda when you have gone home to England!" he exclaimed. For it had been decided that Jack and Jimmie were to return home when Frank did.
"But you will both be coming over soon," Jack answered, showing no sign that it might be strange under the circumstances to expect her to comfort Frieda.
The Professor did not see this. He really saw very little else in the world except his wife and his work.
"We may not be able to come for several months. In the meantime if she frets herself ill?"
Jack promised to talk to her sister.
One evening when Frieda complained of a headache and did not come down to dinner, Jack went up to her.
She found her sister lying on a couch and looking very young and sweet.
"You are not to worry too much on my account, Frieda dear," Jack began.
"I am not supposed to be unselfish," Frieda murmured.
But Jack paid no attention to her speech. "Perhaps you'll have a baby some day yourself, dear."
At this Frieda pulled her sister down andwhisperedsomething in her ear. Jack's face flushed.
"I should be happier than anything! Remember you and Henry are to come to us as soon as it can be arranged."
A few days later Lord and Lady Kent with their little boy left for the East. They were to stop a few days in Washington and then sail.
Not long afterwards Frieda and the Professor also went away from the ranch, as Professor Russell had a good many things to look after and Frieda would not be separated from him.
As Ralph Merritt had arrived for a visit, Jean's attention was occupied with him. So as a matter of fact Captain MacDonnell was rather left to Olive's care.
At first it did not seem a large duty simply to try and keep Captain MacDonnell amused and she had wanted to do something. But Olive had not reckoned with her task.
Captain MacDonnell was an Irishman and a Scotchman, which means he was able to be very gay and also very melancholy. And always in times past, when his melancholy mood had taken hold on him, he could mount his horse and ride the spectre away, or elseengage in some other active outdoor occupation.
But here he was still so young a man, with all his future before him, and compelled to sit all day in a wheeled chair, or else hobble about on crutches.
It has not been the illness that has been hardest for the soldiers to bear, but oftentimes this coming back to accept with resignation a new kind of life.
Yet Captain MacDonnell tried to be patient, tried to let no one guess what he was suffering at thus having his career ended so soon, and being also unable to go on with the service to his country which he so longed to give.
But Olive, who had always more of a gift for sympathy than any one of the Ranch girls, appreciated what he was enduring more than she even revealed to him.
She had been reading him a volume of Kipling one day, and happening to raise her eyes, saw that he was not listening. She even stopped a few moments and found that he was unaware of it.
When Captain MacDonnell did discover his own absorption, he turned to Olive with a charming smile.
"Forgive me," he explained. "I do not intend to be ungrateful, indeed I am more grateful than I know how to express. But those stories of India started me to thinking of the first years I was out there. It is a strange country, India. I don't think we western people understand it."
He and Olive were sitting on the Lodge verandah.
Olive nodded, "I do understand what you must feel and I do wish there was something else to interest you."
Then she remained silent. After all Captain MacDonnell could not go on in idleness like this. There must be something he could find to do, some real thing. Poorer men were learning trades. It would be better for him to do this if only he could be persuaded to feel enough interest.
Olive did not realize she was frowning.
Suddenly she exclaimed.
"Look here, Captain MacDonnell, didn't I hear Frank say once that you used to be fond of drawing when you were a small boy, that you were once undecided whether to be an artist or a soldier?"
Captain MacDonnell smiled. "I believe so, I've an idea I was a pretty conceited youngsterand would have made as much of a failure at one as I have of the other."
But Olive refused to pay any attention to this speech.
For a moment Captain MacDonnell forgot himself thinking of how attractive Olive looked.
He had not remembered thinking of this especially when they had met in England, only that she was unusual looking and not in the least like an American or English woman. It was almost as if she might be Spanish. Captain MacDonnell also had some Spanish blood farther back in his own family, when the Spanish were the great voyagers and visited and settled on the coasts of Ireland.
But Olive went on talking.
"I do wish you would undertake the drawing again, it might at least amuse you, and there are so many interesting people and scenes you could attempt out here."
Captain MacDonnell shook his head.
"I'm afraid the time has gone by for that," he returned.
But Olive had a kind of gentle, sensible persistency that nearly always wins its way.
"Still, there wouldn't be any harm in justseeing if it might amuse you," she went on. "I am sure it would be a kind of relief."
Captain MacDonnell again looked at Olive. Her deep toned skin was softly flushed and her dark eyes brilliant with earnestness.
He laughed a little. "Of course it will, a relief to you, so for that reason I'll attempt it. But on one condition?"
Olive flushed a little with embarrassment, since she had never wholly gotten over her shyness. However, she realized that Captain MacDonnell was teasing her. He did very often when he was in a gay humor and Olive felt it was good for her, as she was too inclined to be grave.
"What is the condition?" she inquired. "Of course it will be relief to me to know you are happier," at which Captain MacDonnell felt that Olive had scored.
"Why, that I won't have to keep on calling you Miss Van Mater. It is too much of a name, just as mine is."
Captain MacDonnell was doubtful as to how Olive would receive this suggestion. She seemed more formal than the rest of the family and he had thought her colder until her great kindness to him. Now he at least knewbetter than to misunderstand her shyness for coldness, as a good many people did.
Olive replied perfectly naturally.
"Of course I will. The truth is I have always thought of you as Bryan, as Jack and Frank always talked of you by this name."
His promise would have really passed out of Captain MacDonnell's mind if Olive had not supplied him with a great variety of drawing materials within a few days, which she had taken a good deal of trouble to secure for him.
But as a matter of fact she was really surprised to discover how much talent he had. But then Captain MacDonnell used to work for many hours each day, so that it was not long before his former facility came back to him. More than this, he discovered to his own surprise as well, that he could do a great deal better work than he had as a boy. Somehow the skill must have developed in him unheeded as he was growing older.
She came out on the lawn one afternoon and discovered Captain MacDonnell at work a little distance off.
He had evidently persuaded one of the cowboys to pose for him, as the man and his horse were standing in a picturesque attitude only a few feet away.
Olive walked over to them and stood studying the drawing until Captain MacDonnell turned round to speak to her.
"Why don't you say it is good?" he demanded boyishly. "You know I've half an idea it is."
Olive nodded enthusiastically.
"It's like Remington."
Captain MacDonnell laughed. "Not quite. Still I am getting on. But it seems to me you are neglecting me lately. I say, suppose you pose for me. That would be ripping. You won't be sensitive if I don't make much of a go just at first."
For a moment Olive hesitated. Then it struck her that she would enjoy sitting outdoors in the early autumn sunshine for a few hours each day with her friend. For Captain MacDonnell had become her friend by this time, she had no doubts on this point. Moreover, she had made up her mind she must soon go away. She had planned to take a course in nursing so as to fit herself to be more useful, and there was really no reason for further delay.
She happened to mention this fact to Captain MacDonnell one day and it was remarkable after that what a time he took to finish his sketch.
The truth was the artist made not one sketch but half a dozen.
Jim and Ruth were delighted with his success, so that Captain MacDonnell finallypersuadedOlive to allow him to attempt a painting.
The work was undertaken inside the Lodge living room. Olive was dressed in an old gold silk, and the artist insisted that she needed a background of strange oriental colors.
One end of the great room was therefore changed into a studio.
Fortunately Ruth and Olive had still in their possession a number of lovely old silks and draperies which the Ranch girls had brought back from their trip to Italy many years before.
One day, after he had been working for about a month, Olive slipped quietly into the studio without the artist's hearing her. She found him sitting before his easel smoking, but frowning and looking less happy than he had in some time.
But as he caught sight of Olive his expression changed.
"I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for making me so lovely? I don't mind being handed down to posterity in such adelightfully untruthful picture," Olive remarked gayly.
"Oh, it's untruthful enough," Captain MacDonnell answered. "It is well you came in just when you did, as I was thinking of making an end of it."
"Then I shouldn't have forgiven you."
Captain MacDonnell nodded.
"That is what I was afraid of, that and that you would not be willing to sit for me again."
Olive laughed. "Oh, you must get hold of someone more attractive than I am for the next portrait. After a while, as you are so much better, you'll be wanting to go back to London to work seriously. You know you have promised me that?"
Captain MacDonnell shook his head.
"No," he returned. "Oh, I don't mean that I did not promise, I only mean that I shall probably not keep my word. I think I shall give up and allow myself to become a kind of good for nothing, half invalid, as soon as I am separated from you."
However, as she had by this time grown accustomed to her companion's swift changes of mood, so unlike her own, Olive only laughed?
"Shall I pose for you again today?"
Then there was silence in the room for half an hour while Bryan worked. Finally he put down his brushes.
"I am no good for work today, Olive. The truth is I want to say something to you and I don't know whether I have the right.
"Olive!"
For an instant Olive changed color. Then she answered.
"I can hardly imagine anything you haven't the right to say to me, Bryan. You often talk of your gratitude for what I have done for you. But I wonder if you know what you have done for me? I have never had so kind a friend except Jack. It is always difficult for me to think of her as Lady Kent."
"But I am not your friend," Bryan returned brusquely, "and it is about that and about Lady Jack I want to talk to you. The truth is it's absurd to call a man your friend when he loves you. Of course I feel I am not all of a man these days and I have not much money and my art may never come to anything."
"Any more disqualifications, Bryan?" Olive asked softly. Perhaps she was not altogether surprised at what she was at present hearing.
"Oh yes, a great many," Captain MacDonnell returned, "only I think I won't tell you about them just now."
"And what has Jack to do with what you wish to say to me?" Olive asked, and this time spoke more seriously.
"Oh, she has nothing at all to do with it now," Captain MacDonnell returned. "Only once upon a time before I met you, I used to think Lady Jack was the most attractive woman I had ever known. I used also to believe that as long as Frank had gotten ahead of me I never wished to marry. But I suppose the real fact was that I wanted one of what Lady Jack told me you called yourselves? The Ranch Girls, wasn't it? Only I had not seen the real one in those days."
"Look here, Bryan, you need not think I ever forget you are an Irishman," Olive laughed. "Yet I think I like your flattery."
However, Captain MacDonnell was waiting for another kind of answer, and after a little Olive gave him the one he desired.
So began for Olive, what still remains, in spite of all the other adventures in life, the great adventure of marriage.