Part 4

“Want to be!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet, and forgetting even Fleecy, who fell to the floor. “Want to be? Why, I should think you could see that it is killing me! Do I look like a person doing what she wants to do? If you had seen me a year ago you would not say that. Look at my poor thin arms,” pulling up her sleeve. “They used to be so plump and round that Bertie never tired of kissing and praising them. And look at my face, so white and pasty, when I used to have a color like a rose! Oh, I’m glad he can’t see me now! I’m glad he doesn’t know how I have changed!”

“Then why do you get the divorce?” Mrs. Bryan couldn’t help saying. “You are doing it, and not he--aren’t you? What makes you do it?”

“Because he wants it,” she answered with a look of defiance. She expected nothing else but that Mrs. Bryan would hold with all her other friends, and she wanted to show her, at once, that she did not care.

“And why does he want it?”

“Because he is tired of me--simply that. No one but me can make allowances for him, and I don’t expect it. I know you are shocked and indignant and all that, but you may save yourself the trouble. It is terrible and unfortunate for me, of course, but I can see, if no one else does, that it is not unnatural. He is highly cultivated and intellectual, and I am not a companion for him. It was long before I would acknowledge it, but I have looked it in the face at last. I was never worthy of him--but oh, while he loved me, it didn’t matter in the least that I was so inferior to him! And he did love me--he did! he did!--as much as he can love anybody--as much, I do believe, as he will ever love that beautiful, wicked woman he is going to marry.”

“Going to marry!” exclaimed Mrs. Bryan, almost breathless, but the little creature who stood near by with her cold hands pressed against her burning cheeks, and her excited eyes fixed on the fire, paid no attention to the reflection of astonishment in her voice.

“Yes, going to marry,” she said. “That is why he was so determined to have the divorce. I knew he had begun to weary of me; I knew I had nothing in me to keep the love of a great creature such as he is, but I think he would have stayed with me and let me go on loving him, at least, if he had not seen that widow, who made up her mind to have him the moment she laid eyes on him, and saw how far above other men he was.”

“But you could have prevented it! He couldn’t have got the divorce from you. Didn’t he know that?”

“Of course he knew it,” she answered, in the petulant tone she often used to Mauma. “He’s a man thoroughly informed on every subject. He knew he could never get it, and that the only way was for me to do it. He made a great mistake, though, and gave himself and me six miserable months of suffering.”

“How do you mean?”

“He tried to force me to sue for a divorce,” she said; “and used every means that he could think of. My friends were wildly excited, and demanded that I should get the divorce, but they might as well have talked into the air. I had but one answer: ‘I love him--love him--do you understand? And there is nothing love cannot forgive!’”

“Love--yes,” retorted Mrs. Bryan, now no longer able to control her indignation. “Love is all very well--but where is your pride?”

The tiny creature standing on the rug drew herself to her full height, and looked her in the eyes, as she answered:

“I have none, where he is concerned.”

“Merciful goodness!” exclaimed the other, with a deep-drawn breath. “Then if you haven’t any pride, what induced you to agree to the divorce?”

“Love,” said the other, solemnly. “If he had understood that--if he had made that appeal at first--he might have had his way in the beginning, instead of the end. If, instead of subjecting me to all the shame and outrage that he made me endure, he had done at first what he did at last, he might have spared himself as well as me much suffering.”

“You don’t mean to say you consented because----”

“Because I loved him,” she replied, in a voice beginning to shake, as her eyes began to fill. “Oh, why do I talk about it? No one will ever understand. You are all alike, and blame me, because you don’t know what it is to love, as I love him. He came to me at last, after those awful months, and when he came into the room and shut the door behind him, and I looked up and feasted my hungry eyes on the sight of him, the love that shook my breast then was a thing you other women don’t know. He called my name. ‘Mimi,’ he said, ‘you have it in your power to make me happy, if you will.’ And I said: ‘I will do anything you ask.’ He came then and took me in his arms and told me he wanted me to get the divorce. He said he was selfish and vile and unworthy of me, that I would be happier without him, and a great deal more such trash, and I told him I had but one desire in the world, and that was to make him happy, and that I would give him the divorce. With those arms around me, and those eyes looking into mine beseechingly, there was nothing I could have denied him--only I had rather it had been the last drop of my blood he had asked for. That was not what he wanted, though, and I gave him what he did want. I asked him if it would not please him better if I were dead, and if he had said yes, I would have killed myself. But he said no, that would make him wretched; he only wanted me to let him be free, and to be free myself to marry some good man who would make me happy as I deserved. He knows that woman isn’t good; he told me so himself--at least he said she was utterly different from me, and so much more fit to be the companion of a poor devil like himself. I don’t know how it is,” she broke off, passionately, “but if being a devil could make him love me again, I’d be a devil, too, if I could! Of course you’re shocked, but I would! Well, no matter what happens, I’ve got that evening to remember. He had not been pleased with me for so long, that it was like heaven on earth to have him as he was then. He let me sit on his lap, and hold him tight around the neck, and kiss his curls and his eyes and his darling mouth. You needn’t look so horrified,” she said with sudden resentment, “he was my husband still, and he’s my husband now, and I’m proud and happy I can say it a little while longer.”

At the last words her voice gave way completely, and she threw herself down on the lounge and burst into violent sobbing. It was piteous to see her, and Mrs. Bryan, in spite of the tempestuous indignation this recital had aroused in her, felt her heart grow soft with sympathy as she looked at the little figure, no bigger than that of many a child of fourteen, shaken with great sobs of anguish--the deep and incurable anguish of a loving and despised wife.

She did her best to comfort her, and forced herself not to criticise, knowing intuitively what the poor little thing must have already suffered at the hands of her friends.

She found, however, that the task of comforting her was an impossible one. All she could do was to soothe and speak lovingly to her, and to avoid abuse of her husband; she felt it would be the cause of hopeless estrangement between them, if she allowed herself to express her true opinion of him.

At last, when Mrs. Leith had consented to be covered up, and made physically comfortable, and had drunk a cup of tea, Mrs. Bryan left her to try to get a nap. She had Fleecy in her arms, with her head peeping out above the coverlet, and had laid her cheek against it with a degree of affectionateness that she seemed unable to show to the human beings about her.

“It is only because Bertie loves Fleecy, and she loves him,” said the little creature, answering the unspoken thought which she had read in Mrs. Bryan’s eyes.

As the latter passed through the outer room, where Mauma was sitting at the window running the narrow ribbons in and out of the eyelet holes in Mrs. Leith’s dainty French underclothes, she stopped and looked at the old woman inquiringly.

“She bin tell you all ’bout it, has she?” said Mauma, looking up over the top of her brass-rimmed spectacles. “I knowed how it gwine be, soon ez I see you done tech her heart, by nussing o’ that black varmint.” (It always seemed to give Mauma great satisfaction to apply the word “black” to Fleecy’s creamy whiteness.) “I’m glad you kin mek out to show some likin’ fur de dirty thing, en to please Missy I’d do it myself, ef I could. De Lord knows ef anythin’ kin please her, I want her to have it, but it’s more’n I got sense to do, to ack like I love dem two darlin’s o’ hern.”

“Then you don’t like Mr. Leith, either?” said Mrs. Bryan, tentatively.

“Like him? Nor’m, I don’t like him, I don’ like him for nuthin’--a good-for nuthin’, low-life raskill, as ain’t worthy to tech Missy’s feet! Thar ain’ but one thing in the worl’ I won’ do for Missy, en that’s it! I ain’ gwine say I like him, kus I pintedly don’t, en I’d wring he neck same ez a chicken’s, ef I had de chance. Lor’, mistiss, you don’ know. You don’ know nuthin’! De sights he is tuk dat air little angel-chile through is enough to tun yer hyar right white. ’Tain’ no kine o’ shame en meanness he ain’ bin heap up on her--a puppus to mek her git de divoce. En you think she’d do it? Nor’m, she wouldn’! She bin quoil wid ev’ry fr’en’ she got in de worl’ ’long o’ that! She ain’ ’low nobody to say nuthin’ gin’ him. All she say is, ‘When you love, you kin furgive anything.’ He mought ’a’ kep’ on, twel jedgmen’-day, en he mought ’a’ drug her through de streets by de hyar o’ her hade, en she wouldn’ nuver ’a’ uttered a complaint. De warn’ but one way he could ’a’ got her to git dat divoce, en he jis dat mean en sneakin’ dat he bin foun’ dat way out. He come to her at las’ wid all he impident, sweet ways, en he jiss coax en beg for it. I knowed den ’twas all up. She ain’ nuver been able to say no to him in her life, en she couldn’t say it den. So she tell him. Yes, she do it fur de sake o’ makin’ him happy en pleased wid her. She sont right off fur de lawyer, en made all de ’rangements. I hear him tell her myself dat ’twas easy ’nough to do. Yes, Lord! I reckon ’twas easy, wid dem scan’lous doin’s o’ his! Lor’, honey, you don’ know,” and the old woman ended, shaking her head with an air of deep mystery.

The ice once broken between Mrs. Bryan and her boarder, frequent confidences followed, but it was always the same thing, with more or less detail, as to the charm, superiority and lovableness of the husband she had renounced, or was now making it her business in life to renounce. It was evident to Mrs. Bryan that the days passed all too quickly for Mr. Manning’s client, and that she clung desperately to the mere form that retained him as her husband.

In the monotonous regularity of her life at Belton she began to improve in health and looks. Mauma attributed it to the fact that she no longer had the torment of discussions and protest from her relatives and friends, who had one and all abandoned her to her own devices. So indomitable a will in so slight a body, it was certainly strange to find. After the promise to her husband she had never faltered, though the idea of the divorce was evidently terrible to her beyond words. She told Mrs. Bryan that she was twenty years of age, but it was hard to believe it. She looked a mere slip of a girl, and was made with such exquisite perfection, that that fact seemed to make her look smaller than she really was. Every one who saw her was fascinated by her beauty, but she was cold to all overtures of friendship, and seemed to have exhausted on her husband and Fleecy all her capacity for affection. She still cared scrupulously for her toilet, though she wore only the one or two dark dresses in which she had appeared on first coming to Belton. Her mother had been a Creole, and from this source she had got her little French name, Mimi, which she told Mrs. Bryan her husband usually abbreviated into “Mim.” There was also a trace of her French origin in her utterance--a certain peculiarity of the _r_--that gave her a sort of unusualness which added to her charm.

One day, the morning of which had passed in the usual uneventful way, Mrs. Leith was sitting with Mrs. Bryan in the latter’s sitting-room, when a telegram was brought in. Mrs. Bryan took it, and then handed it to her companion, to whom it was addressed. As she read it she sprang to her feet and uttered a cry--unmistakably a cry of joy.

“Read it--he is coming!” she said.

Mrs. Bryan put on her glasses and read these words:

“Must see you on important business. Arrive at eight o’clock.

“B.”

“I must go--I must get ready. Where is Mauma? Mauma!” she called as she hurried from the room, and ran up the stairs.

Half an hour later Mrs. Bryan went to her boarder’s room. She found everything in confusion. Trunks stood open in the middle of the floor; Eastern stuffs were scattered all about; exquisite dresses were lying in heaps, and poor old Mauma, with protest written on the very curve of her back, was diving into a trunk, and tranquilly accepting a scolding for not knowing where some indispensable article was.

“I am going to hang these stuffs about the room, and get out a few ornaments,” Mrs. Leith explained. “I won’t hurt anything, but Bertie does so love to see things look ‘homey and comfy,’ as he calls it. Will you send someone to the florist, and tell him I want lots of flowers--all that he has? Oh, Mrs. Bryan, do tell me--honestly and candidly--which of these dresses I look best in. You see, I can’t tell just what humor he will be in. Sometimes he likes to see me dressed as richly as possible--and then again I can’t be too simple. Oh, yes, I forgot--I know what I’ll wear! I’d rather he’d see me very simple--for I can imagine he’s seen plenty of magnificence lately. I’ll wear just this little white _crêpe_ gown--one he used to love. Perhaps he’ll remember he praised it once, and be pleased at my remembering. Oh, Mauma, where’s the girdle? You don’t seem to know where anything is, and if you’ve lost that girdle--” she stopped, with sudden tears of vexation in her eyes.

Mauma came toward her with the girdle in her hand. She darted forward to take it, and gave the old woman a sudden hug, as she said, coaxingly:

“Don’t be cross with me to-day, Mauma--please don’t. I’m so happy. You ought to be glad your child is going to be happy once more in her life. He’s sure to be pleased with me, for I’ve done every little thing he wants. Oh, to think I’m going to see him once more!” Then, with a sudden change of tone, she added: “Don’t be vexed with me if I’m cross and rude to-day. I’m so wild with joy that I can’t stand the suggestion of anything else. And oh, Mrs. Bryan, if you saw him, you would not wonder. Promise me this,” she cried, seizing the other woman by both hands with intense earnestness, “promise me that you will go to the door, yourself, when he comes, and that you’ll just say some little thing to him, so as to make him speak. I want you to hear his voice, and get some idea of his manner. Then, after that, if you talk about Mr. Manning or Mr. Anybody else, I’ll promise to listen to you!”

Mrs. Bryan agreed to do as she wished, and went away more puzzled and astonished at the ways of her boarder than she had been yet.

Shortly before eight o’clock that evening, Mrs. Bryan, dressed in her neatest black dress, and wearing her freshest cap, went up to Mrs. Leith’s sitting-room. When she entered, she hardly recognized it, and felt as if she must be in a dream. Wax candles, with pink shades, were set about in groups; the walls and furniture were decorated with rich embroideries and Eastern stuffs, and beautiful flowers were massed together on tables and mantel. Fleecy had been freshly washed, and was ornamented with a gay pink ribbon tied in an enormous bow at the back of her neck, suspending a little gold bell, which tinkled as she walked about with her great tail in the air. A glowing wood fire burned on the hearth, and on a white fur rug, which had been spread in front of it, stood Mimi. The metamorphosis in her was quite as startling as in the room. She was dressed in a scant and clinging little gown of white _crêpe_, half-low about the throat, from which a fall of creamy lace hung down. It was loosely gathered in about the waist by a silver girdle, and had great flowing sleeves, from which her little hands came out divested of all ornament, except her wedding-ring. Her tiny feet were cased in white slippers worked with silver. But the wonder of it all was her face. It was nothing short of radiantly beautiful this evening. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were pink as roses. Her hair, instead of being twisted, as usual, into a decorous knot, was falling free about her shoulders. It was not long, but curly and fluffy as a child’s.

“You look about twelve years old,” was Mrs. Bryan’s comment.

“Bertie always said so, when I wore my hair like this,” she answered, delightedly. “He loves it this way best of all. I was so afraid I’d look too old to do it; but if I have grown old and thin, thank the _good_ God, it doesn’t show to-night!”

It was the first expression of religious fervor that Mrs. Bryan had ever heard her use; but as she said this, she clasped her hands and looked upward in a rapture of thanksgiving, the sincerity of which could not be doubted.

“Fleecy, do you know who’s coming?” she exclaimed, suddenly catching the big cat up, and looking into its face as if it had been a child’s. “Master, Fleecy--master!”

Fleecy certainly pricked up her ears, seeing which her mistress covered her with rapturous kisses, while Mrs. Bryan had more than a suspicion that Fleecy mistook the word “master” for “mouse;” but this she would not have dared to suggest.

“Isn’t it after eight?” said Mimi, looking at the little clock on the mantel. “Oh, if he shouldn’t come!” And at the thought of this the color faded from her cheeks. It came bounding back, however, the next minute, as the door-bell was heard.

When Mrs. Bryan reached the landing at the head of the stairs, she found Mauma leaning over the railing and looking into the hall below.

“Is it Mr. Leith?” Mrs. Bryan asked.

“Yes, it’s him--the ugly buzzard!” answered Mauma, with intense disgust.

It was impossible not to smile at this comment as applied to the man whom Mrs. Bryan now went forward to meet. She acknowledged at once, as she saw him shaking the thick snowflakes from the collar of his coat, that his beauty had not been exaggerated. He was a magnificent, blond creature, with youthful strength and health in every line of figure and face. A ready smile of good humor rose to his lips, as he took off his hat with a splendid grace and made Mrs. Bryan a bow.

“Mrs. Leith is expecting you,” she said. “Will you go up to her sitting-room?”

“Yes, thanks, when I have got rid of some of this snow. I must ask your forgiveness for bringing so much of it into your house. It’s clean, however, and I hope will do no harm.”

As he spoke he was taking off his long, fur-lined coat, and as he threw in on a chair, he looked at her again and smiled.

“Oh, I’ll have it brushed for you!” she said, and then stopped short, provoked at having been so civil to the man whom she had intended to treat with cold contempt.

“Walk upstairs,” she said, more distantly. “I’ll go with you, and show you the room.”

He gave her the smallest of bows, but it gave the old widow an agreeable sense of homage. As he preceded her up the stairs, he said, in a voice no one could fail to find delightful:

“What a fascinating old house you have!”

The compliment was agreeable to her, but at the same time she felt a certain indignation that he could be so unmoved at the prospect of an interview which had put that poor child, waiting yonder, in a fever of agitation.

Mauma had disappeared from the landing, and when Mrs. Bryan had pointed out the door, she turned and went downstairs. She heard his quick knock, and then the turn of the knob. As she looked back, he was just disappearing and closing the door after him.

In the room beyond that closed door intense silence reigned for some moments. Leith had come no farther than across the threshold, and stood with his back against the door. Then, undoubtedly, Fleecy recognized him, for she came forward and began to rub against his legs, making a purring noise distinctly audible in the silent room. Fleecy’s mistress stood on the rug intensely still, with her hands clasped tight together.

Presently the man spoke, in his very gentlest voice.

“Fleecy is glad to see me,” he said in a tone of tender reproach.

“And so am I! Oh, Bertie!” she gasped, catching her breath with a sort of sob.