CHAPTER VIII
MR. CRAIG CONFIDES
Craig did not leave Margaret more precipitately than he had intended;that would have been impossible, as he always strove to make hisdepartures seem as startling and mysterious as a dematerialization. Buthe did leave much sooner than he had intended, and with only a smallpart of what he had planned to say said. He withdrew to think it over;and in the long walk from the Severences to his lodgings in theWyandotte he did think it over with his usual exhaustive thoroughness.
He had been entirely sincere in his talk with Margaret. He was a shrewdjudge both of human nature and of situations, and he saw that a marriagebetween Margaret and Grant would be in every way admirable. Heappreciated the fine qualities of both, and realized that they wouldhave an uncommonly good chance of hitting it off tranquilly together. Ofall their qualities of mutual adaptability the one that impressed himmost deeply was the one at which he was always scoffing--what he calledtheir breeding. Theoretically, and so far as his personal practice went,he genuinely despised "breeding"; but he could not uproot a mostworshipful reverence for it, a reverence of which he was ashamed. He hadno "breeding" himself; he was experiencing in Washington a phase of lifewhich was entirely new to him, and it had developed in him the snobbishinstincts that are the rankest weeds in the garden of civilization.Their seeds fly everywhere, are sown broadcast, threaten the usefulplants and the flowers incessantly, contrive to grow, to flourish even,in the desert places. Craig had an instinct against this plague; but hewas far too self-confident to suspect that it could enter his own gatesand attack his own fields. He did not dream that the chief reason why hethought Grant and Margaret so well suited to each other was the reasonof snobbishness; that he was confusing their virtues with their vices;and was admiring them for qualities which were blighting theirusefulness and even threatening to make sane happiness impossible foreither. It was not their real refinement that he admired, and, at times,envied; it was their showy affectations of refinement, those gaudypretenses that appeal to the crude human imagination, like uniforms andtitles.
It had not occurred to him that Margaret might possibly be willing tobecome his wife. He would have denied it as fiercely to himself as toothers, but at bottom he could not have thought of himself as at ease inany intimate relation with her. He found her beautiful physically, butmuch too fine and delicate to be comfortable with. He could be brave,bold, insolent with her, in an impersonal way; but personally he couldnot have ventured the slightest familiarity, now that he reallyappreciated "what a refined, delicate woman is."
But the easiest impression for a woman to create upon a man--or a manupon a woman--is the impression of being in love. We are so conscious ofour own merits, we are so eager to have them appreciated, that we willexaggerate or misinterpret any word or look, especially from a person ofthe opposite sex, into a tribute to them. When Craig pleaded for Grantand Margaret, moved by his eloquent sincerity, dropped her eyes andcolored in shame for her plans about him, in such black contrast withhis frank generosity, he noted her change of expression, and instantlyhis vanity flashed into his mind: "Can it be that she loves me?"
The more he reflected upon it the clearer it became to him that she did.Yes, here was being repeated the old story of the attraction ofextremes. "She isn't so refined that appreciation of real manhood hasbeen refined out of her," thought he. "And why shouldn't she love me?What does all this nonsense of family and breeding amount to, anyway?"His mind was in great confusion. At one moment he was dismissing theidea of such delicateness, such super-refined super-sensitiveness beingtaken with a man of his imperfect bringing-up and humble origin. Thenext moment his self-esteem was bobbing again, was jauntily assuring himthat he was "a born king" and, therefore, would naturally be discoveredand loved by a truly princess--"And, by Heaven, she IS a princess of theblood royal! Those eyes, those hands, those slender feet!" Having nogreat sense of humor he did not remind himself here how malicious natureusually deprives royalty of the outward marks of aristocracy to bestowthem upon peasant.
At last he convinced himself that she was actually burning with love forhim, that she had lifted the veil for an instant--had lifted itdeliberately to encourage him to speak for himself. And he was notrepelled by this forwardness, was, on the contrary, immensely flattered.It is the custom for those of high station to reassure those of lower,to make them feel that they may draw near without fear. A queen seekinga consort among princes always begins the courting. A rich girl willingto marry a poor man lets him see she will not be offended if he offersto add himself to her possessions. Yes, it would be quite consistentwith sex-custom, with maidenly modesty, for a Severence to make thefirst open move toward a Josh Craig.
"But do I want her?"
That was another question. He admired her, he would be proud to havesuch a wife. "She's just the sort I need, to adorn the station I'm goingto have." But what of his dreams of family life, of easy, domesticundress, which she would undoubtedly find coarse and vulgar? "It wouldbe like being on parade all the time--she's been used to that sort ofthing her whole life, but it'd make me miserable." Could he afford acomplete, a lifelong sacrifice of comfort to gratify a vanity?
He had devoted much thought to the question of marriage. On the one handhe wanted money; for in politics, with the people so stupid and sofickle, a man without an independence, at least, would surely findhimself, sooner or later, in a position where he must choose betweenretiring and submitting himself to some powerful interest--either acomplete sale, or a mortgage hardly less galling to pride, no lessdegrading to self-respect. On the other hand he wanted a home--a wifelike his mother, domestic, attentive, looking out for his comfort andhis health, herself taking care of the children. And he had arrived at acompromise. He would marry a girl out West somewhere, a girl of somesmall town, brought up somewhat as he had been brought up, not shockedby what Margaret Severance would regard as his vulgarities--a woman withwhom he felt equal and at ease. He would select such a woman, provided,in addition, with some fortune--several hundred thousands, at least,enough to make him independent. Such had been his plan. But now that hehad seen Margaret, had come to appreciate her through studying her as apossible wife for his unattached friend Arkwright, now that he haddiscovered her secret, her love for him--how could he fit her into hiscareer? Was it possible? Was it wise?
"The best is none too good for me," said he to himself swaggeringly. Nodoubt about it--no, indeed, not the slightest. But--well, everybodywouldn't realize this, as yet. And it must be admitted that those merefoppish, inane nothings did produce a seeming of difference. Indeed, itmust even be admitted that the way Margaret had been brought up wouldmake it hard for her, with her sensitive, delicate nerves, to bear withhim if she really knew him. A hot wave passed over his body at thethought. "How ashamed I'd be to have her see my wardrobe. I really mustbrace up in the matter of shirts, and in the quality of underclothes andsocks." No, she probably would be shocked into aversion if she reallyknew him--she, who had been surrounded by servants in livery all herlife; who had always had a maid to dress her, to arrange a deliciousbath for her every morning and every evening, to lay out, from a vastand thrilling store of delicate clothing, the fresh, clean, fine,amazingly costly garments that were to have the honor and the pleasureof draping that aristocratic body of hers. "Why, her maid," thought he,"is of about the same appearance and education as my aunts. Old Williamsis a far more cultured person than my uncles or brothers-in-law." Ofcourse, Selina and Williams were menials, while his male kin were menand his female relatives women, "and all of them miles ahead of anythingin this gang when it comes to the real thing--character." Still, so faras appearances went--"I'm getting to be a damned, cheap snob!" cried healoud. "To hell with the whole crowd! I want nothing to do with them!"
But Margaret, in her beautiful garments, diffusing perfume just as herlook and manner diffused the aroma of gentle breeding--The image of herwas most insidiously alluring; he could not banish it. "And, damn itall, isn't she just a human being? Wh
at's become of my common-sense thatI treat these foolish trifles as if they were important?"
Grant Arkwright came while the debate was still on. He soon noted thatsomething was at work in Josh's mind to make him so silent and glum, sodifferent from his usual voluble, flamboyant self. "What's up, Josh?What deviltry are you plotting now to add to poor old Stillwater'snervous indigestion?"
"I'm thinking about marriage," said Craig, lighting a cigarette anddropping into the faded magnificence of an ex-salon chair.
"Good business!" exclaimed Arkwright.
"It's far more important that you get married than that I do," explainedCraig. "At present you don't amount to a damn. You're like one of thosetwittering swallows out there. As a married man you'd at least have thevalidity that attaches to every husband and father."
"If I could find the right girl," said Grant.
"I thought I had found her for you," continued Craig. "But, on secondthoughts, I've about decided to take her for myself."
"Oh, you have?" said Arkwright, trying to be facetious of look and tone.
"Yes," said Josh, in his abrupt, decisive way. He threw the cigaretteinto the empty fireplace and stood up. "I think I'll take your adviceand marry Miss Severance."
"Really!" mocked Grant; but he was red with anger, was muttering underhis breath, "Insolent puppy!"
"Yes, I think she'll do." Craig spoke as if his verdict were probablyoverpartial to her. "It's queer about families and the kind of childrenthey have. Every once in a while you'll find a dumb ass of a man whosebrain will get to boiling with liquor or some other ferment, and it'llincubate an idea, a real idea. It's that way about paternity--or,rather, maternity. Now who'd think that inane, silly mother ofMargaret's could have brought such a person as she is into the world?"
"Mrs. Severence is a very sweet and amiable LADY," said Grant coldly.
"Pooh!" scoffed Craig. "She's a nothing--a puff of wind--a nit. Such asshe, by the great gross, wouldn't count one."
"I doubt if it would be--wise--politically, I mean--for you to marry awoman of--of the fashionable set." Grant spoke judicially, withconstraint in his voice.
"You're quite right there," answered Craig promptly. "Still, it's atemptation.... I've been reconsidering the idea since I discovered thatshe loves me."
Grant leaped to his feet. "Loves you!" he shouted. Josh smiled calmly."Loves me," said he. "Why not, pray?"
"I--I--I--don't know," answered Grant weakly.
"Oh, yes, you do. You think I'm not good enough for her--as if this werenot America, but Europe." And he went on loftily: "You ought to considerwhat such thoughts mean, as revelations of your own character, Grant."
"You misunderstood me entirely," protested Grant, red and guilty."Didn't I originally suggest her to you?"
"But you didn't really mean it," retorted Craig with a laugh which Grantthought the quintessence of impertinence. "You never dreamed she'd fallin love with me."
"Josh," said Grant, "I wish you wouldn't say that sort of thing. It'snot considered proper in this part of the country for a gentleman tospeak out that way about women."
"What's there to be ashamed of in being in love? Besides, aren't you mybest friend, the one I confide everything to?"
"You confide everything to everybody."
Craig looked amused. "There are only two that can keep a secret," saidhe, "nobody and everybody. I trust either the one or the other, andneither has ever betrayed me."
"To go back to the original subject: I'd prefer you didn't talk to me inthat way about that particular young lady."
"Why?... Because you're in love with her, yourself?"
Grant silently stared at the floor.
"Poor old chap," said Craig sympathetically.
Arkwright winced, started to protest, decided it was just as well to letCraig think what he pleased at that juncture.
"Poor old chap!" repeated Josh. "Well, you needn't despair. It's trueshe isn't in love with you and is in love with me. But if I keep awayfrom her and discourage her it'll soon die out. Women of that sort ofbringing up aren't capable of any enduring emotion--unless they haveoutside aid in keeping it alive."
"No, thank you," said Arkwright bitterly. "I decline to be put in theposition of victim of your generosity. Josh, let me tell you, yournotion that she's in love with you is absurd. I'd advise you not to goround confiding it to people, in your usual fashion. You'll makeyourself a laughing stock."
"I've told no one but you," protested Craig.
"Have you seen any one else since you got the idea?"
"No, I haven't," he admitted with a laugh. "Now that you've told me thestate of your heart I'll not speak of her feeling for me. I give you myword of honor on that. I understand how a chap like you, full of falsepride, would be irritated at having people know he'd married a woman whowas once in love with some one else. For of course you'll marry her."
"I'm not sure of that. I haven't your sublime self-confidence, youknow."
"Oh, I'll arrange it," replied Craig, full of enthusiasm. "In fact, Ihad already begun, this very afternoon, when she let me see that sheloved me and, so, brought me up standing."
"Damn it, man, DON'T say that!" cried Grant, all afire. "I tell you it'scrazy, conceited nonsense."
"All right, all right, old chap," soothed Josh.
And it frenzied Arkwright to see that he said this merely to spare thefeelings of an unrequited lover, not at all because he had begun todoubt Margaret's love. "Come down to dinner and let's talk no more aboutit," said Grant, with a great effort restraining himself. "I tell you,Josh, you make it mighty hard sometimes for me to remember what I oweyou."
Craig wheeled on him with eyes that flashed and pierced. "My youngfriend," said he, "you owe me nothing. And let me say to you, once forall, you are free to break with me at any instant--you or any other man.Whenever I find I'm beginning to look on a man as necessary to me I drophim--break with him. I am necessary to my friends, not they to me. Ilike you, but be careful how you get impertinent with me."
Craig eyed him fiercely and steadily until Arkwright's gaze dropped.Then he laughed friendly. "Come along, Grant," said he. "You're a goodfellow, and I'll get you the girl." And he linked his arm in Arkwright'sand took up another phase of himself as the topic of his monologue.