Within the Law: From the Play of Bayard Veiller

  CHAPTER XII. A BRIDEGROOM SPURNED.

  After Aggie's vigorous comment there followed a long silence. Thatvolatile young person, little troubled as she was by sensitiveness,guessed the fact that just now further discussion of the event would bedistasteful to Mary, and so she betook herself discreetly to a cigaretteand the illustrations of a popular magazine devoted to the stage. As forthe man, his reticence was really from a fear lest in speaking at allhe might speak too freely, might betray the pervasive violence of hisfeeling. So, he sat motionless and wordless, his eyes carefullyavoiding Mary in order that she might not be disturbed by the invisiblevibrations thus sent from one to another. Mary herself was shaken to thedepths. A great weariness, a weariness that cried the worthlessnessof all things, had fallen upon her. It rested leaden on her soul. Itweighed down her body as well, though that mattered little indeed. Yet,since she could minister to that readily, she rose and went to a setteeon the opposite side of the room where she arranged herself among thecushions in a posture more luxurious than her rather precise earlytraining usually permitted her to assume in the presence of others.There she rested, and soon felt the tides of energy again flowing inher blood, and that same vitality, too, wrought healing even for heragonized soul, though more slowly. The perfect health of her gave herstrength to recover speedily from the shock she had sustained. It wasthis health that made the glory of the flawless skin, white with aliving white that revealed the coursing blood beneath, and the crimsonlips that bent in smiles so tender, or so wistful, and the limpideyes in which always lurked fires that sometimes burst into flame, thelustrous mass of undulating hair that sparkled in the sunlight like anaureole to her face or framed it in heavy splendors with its shadows,and the supple erectness of her graceful carriage, the lithe dignity ofher every movement.

  But, at last, she stirred uneasily and sat up. Garson accepted this as asufficient warrant for speech.

  "You know--Aggie told you--that Cassidy was up here from Headquarters.He didn't put a name to it, but I'm on." Mary regarded him inquiringly,and he continued, putting the fact with a certain brutal bluntnessafter the habit of his class. "I guess you'll have to quit seeing youngGilder. The bulls are wise. His father has made a holler.

  "Don't let that worry you, Joe," she said tranquilly. She allowed a fewseconds go by, then added as if quite indifferent: "I was married toDick Gilder this morning." There came a squeal of amazement from Aggie,a start of incredulity from Garson.

  "Yes," Mary repeated evenly, "I was married to him this morning. Thatwas my important engagement," she added with a smile toward Aggie. Forsome intuitive reason, mysterious to herself, she did not care to meetthe man's eyes at that moment.

  Aggie sat erect, her baby face alive with worldly glee.

  "My Gawd, what luck!" she exclaimed noisily. "Why, he's a king fish, heis. Gee! But I'm glad you landed him!"

  "Thank you," Mary said with a smile that was the result of her sense ofhumor rather than from any tenderness.

  It was then that Garson spoke. He was a delicate man in hissensibilities at times, in spite of the fact that he followed deviousmethods in his manner of gaining a livelihood. So, now, he put aquestion of vital significance.

  "Do you love him?"

  The question caught Mary all unprepared, but she retained herself-control sufficiently to make her answer in a voice that to theordinary ear would have revealed no least tremor.

  "No," she said. She offered no explanation, no excuse, merely stated thefact in all its finality.

  Aggie was really shocked, though for a reason altogether sordid, not onewhit romantic.

  "Ain't he young?" she demanded aggressively. "Ain't he good-looking, andloose with his money something scandalous? If I met up with a fellowas liberal as him, if he was three times his age, I could simply adorehim!"

  It was Garson who pressed the topic with an inexorable curiosity born ofhis unselfish interest in the woman concerned.

  "Then, why did you marry him?" he asked. The sincerity of him was excuseenough for the seeming indelicacy of the question. Besides, he felthimself somehow responsible. He had given back to her the gift of life,which she had rejected. Surely, he had the right to know the truth.

  It seemed that Mary believed her confidence his due, for she told himthe fact.

  "I have been working and scheming for nearly a year to do it," she said,with a hardening of her face that spoke of indomitable resolve. "Now,it's done." A vindictive gleam shot from her violet eyes as she added:"It's only the beginning, too."

  Garson, with the keen perspicacity that had made him a successfulcriminal without a single conviction to mar his record, had seized theimplication in her statement, and now put it in words.

  "Then, you won't leave us? We're going on as we were before?" The hintof dejection in his manner had vanished. "And you won't live with him?"

  "Live with him?" Mary exclaimed emphatically. "Certainly not!"

  Aggie's neatly rounded jaw dropped in a gape of surprise that was mostunladylike.

  "You are going to live on in this joint with us?" she questioned,aghast.

  "Of course." The reply was given with the utmost of certainty.

  Aggie presented the crux of the matter.

  "Where will hubby live?"

  There was no lessening of the bride's composure as she replied, with alittle shrug.

  "Anywhere but here."

  Aggie suddenly giggled. To her sense of humor there was something vastlydiverting in this new scheme of giving bliss to a fond husband.

  "Anywhere but here," she repeated gaily. "Oh, won't that be nice--forhim? Oh, yes! Oh, quite so! Oh, yes, indeed--quite so--so!"

  Garson, however, was still patient in his determination to apprehendjust what had come to pass.

  "Does he understand the arrangement?" was his question.

  "No, not yet," Mary admitted, without sign of embarrassment.

  "Well," Aggie said, with another giggle, "when you do get around to tellhim, break it to him gently."

  Garson was intently considering another phase of the situation, onesuggested perhaps out of his own deeper sentiments.

  "He must think a lot of you!" he said, gravely. "Don't he?"

  For the first time, Mary was moved to the display of a slight confusion.She hesitated a little before her answer, and when she spoke it was in alower key, a little more slowly.

  "I--I suppose so."

  Aggie presented the truth more subtly than could have been expected fromher.

  "Think a lot of you? Of course he does! Thinks enough to marry you! Andbelieve me, kid, when a man thinks enough of you to marry you, well,that's some thinking!"

  Somehow, the crude expression of this professional adventuresspenetrated to Mary's conscience, though it held in it the truth to whichher conscience bore witness, to which she had tried to shut her ears....And now from the man came something like a draught of elixir to herconscience--like the trump of doom to her scheme of vengeance.

  Garson spoke very softly, but with an intensity that left no doubt as tothe honesty of his purpose.

  "I'd say, throw up the whole game and go to him, if you really care."

  There fell a tense silence. It was broken by Mary herself. She spokewith a touch of haste, as if battling against some hindrance within.

  "I married him to get even with his father," she said. "That's all thereis to it.... By the way, I expect Dick will be here in a minute or two.When he comes, just remember not to--enlighten him."

  Aggie sniffed indignantly.

  "Don't worry about me, not a mite. Whenever it's really wanted, I'malways there with a full line of that lady stuff." Thereupon, she sprangup, and proceeded to give her conception of the proper welcoming of thehappy bridegroom. The performance was amusing enough in itself, but forsome reason it moved neither of the two for whom it was rendered tomore than perfunctory approval. The fact had no depressing effect on theperformer, however, and it was only the coming of the maid that put herlively sallies to an end.
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  "Mr. Gilder," Fannie announced.

  Mary put a question with so much of energy that Garson began finally tounderstand the depth of her vindictive feeling.

  "Any one with him?"

  "No, Miss Turner," the maid answered.

  "Have him come in," Mary ordered.

  Garson felt that he would be better away for the sake of the newlymarried pair at least, if not for his own. He made hasty excuses andwent out on the heels of the maid. Aggie, however, consulting only herown wishes in the matter, had no thought of flight, and, if the truth betold, Mary was glad of the sustaining presence of another woman.

  She got up slowly, and stood silent, while Aggie regarded her curiously.Even to the insensitive observer, there was something strange in theatmosphere.... A moment later the bridegroom entered.

  He was still clean-cut and wholesome. Some sons of wealthy fathers arenot, after four years experience of the white lights of town. And thelines of his face were firmer, better in every way. It seemed, indeed,that here was some one of a resolute character, not to be wasted on thetrivial and gross things. In an instant, he had gone to her, had caughther in his arms with, "Hello, dear!" smothered in the kiss he implantedon her lips.

  Mary strove vainly to free herself.

  "Don't, oh, don't!" she gasped.

  Dick Gilder released his wife from his arms and smiled the beatificsmile of the newly-wed.

  "Why not?" he demanded, with a smile, a smile calm, triumphant,masterful.

  "Agnes!"... It was the sole pretext to which Mary could turn for amomentary relief.

  The bridegroom faced about, and perceived Agnes, who stood closelywatching the meeting between husband and wife. He made an excellentformal bow of the sort that one learns only abroad, and spoke quietly.

  "I beg your pardon, Miss Lynch, but"--a smile of perfect happiness shoneon his face--"you could hardly expect me to see any one but Mary underthe circumstances. Could you?"

  Aggie strove to rise to this emergency, and again took on her bestmanner, speaking rather coldly.

  "Under what circumstances?" she inquired.

  The young man exclaimed joyously.

  "Why, we were married this morning."

  Aggie accepted the news with fitting excitement.

  "Goodness gracious! How perfectly lovely!"

  The bridegroom regarded her with a face that was luminous of delight.

  "You bet, it's lovely!" he declared with entire conviction. He turned toMary, his face glowing with satisfaction.

  "Mary," he said, "I have the honeymoon trip all fixed. The Mauretaniasails at five in the morning, so we will----"

  A cold voice struck suddenly through this rhapsodizing. It was that ofthe bride.

  "Where is your father?" she asked, without any trace of emotion.

  The bridegroom stopped short, and a deep blush spread itself over hisboyish face. His tone was filled full to overflowing with compunction ashe answered.

  "Oh, Lord! I had forgotten all about Dad." He beamed on Mary with asmile half-ashamed, half-happy. "I'm awfully sorry," he said earnestly."I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll send Dad a wireless from the ship,then write him from Paris."

  But the confident tone brought no response of agreement from Mary. Onthe contrary, her voice was, if anything, even colder as she replied tohis suggestion. She spoke with an emphasis that brooked no evasion.

  "What was your promise? I told you that I wouldn't go with you untilyou had brought your father to me, and he had wished us happiness." Dickplaced his hands gently on his wife's shoulders and regarded her with atouch of indignation in his gaze.

  "Mary," he said reproachfully, "you are not going to hold me to thatpromise?"

  The answer was given with a decisiveness that admitted of no question,and there was a hardness in her face that emphasized the words.

  "I am going to hold you to that promise, Dick."

  For a few seconds, the young man stared at her with troubled eyes. Thenhe moved impatiently, and dropped his hands from her shoulders. But hisusual cheery smile came again, and he shrugged resignedly.

  "All right, Mrs. Gilder," he said, gaily. The sound of the name provokedhim to new pleasure. "Sounds fine, doesn't it?" he demanded, with anuxorious air.

  "Yes," Mary said, but there was no enthusiasm in her tone.

  The husband went on speaking with no apparent heed of his wife'sindifference.

  "You pack up what things you need, girlie," he directed. "Just afew--because they sell clothes in Paris. And they are some class,believe me! And meantime, I'll run down to Dad's office, and have himback here in half an hour. You will be all ready, won't you?"

  Mary answered quickly, with a little catching of her breath, but stillcoldly.

  "Yes, yes, I'll be ready. Go and bring your father."

  "You bet I will," Dick cried heartily. He would have taken her in hisarms again, but she evaded the caress. "What's the matter?" he demanded,plainly at a loss to understand this repulse.

  "Nothing!" was the ambiguous answer.

  "Just one!" Dick pleaded.

  "No," the bride replied, and there was determination in themonosyllable.

  It was evident that Dick perceived the futility of argument.

  "For a married woman you certainly are shy," he replied, with a slyglance toward Aggie, who beamed back sympathy. "You'll excuse me, won'tyou, Miss Lynch,... Good-by, Mrs. Gilder." He made a formal bow to hiswife. As he hurried to the door, he expressed again his admiration forthe name. "Mrs. Gilder! Doesn't that sound immense?" And with that hewas gone.

  There was silence in the drawing-room until the two women heard theclosing of the outer door of the apartment. Then, at last, Aggierelieved her pent-up emotions in a huge sigh that was near a groan.

  "Oh Gawd!" she gasped. "The poor simp!"