CHAPTER XV
CONSEQUENCES
Jack found the veranda of the big house deserted, which was most unusualat this hour of the evening.
Only a dim light was burning in the drawing-room. But the front door wasopen and she walked in without knocking or calling.
Undoubtedly there was a subdued atmosphere about the place. Not yethalf-past eight, so surely not all the family could be in bed. At thishour one could at least count upon finding the two oldest of the fournew Rainbow ranch girls, Lina and Jeannette. Lina was extremely studiousand given to doing a great deal of reading at odd hours. She bore noresemblance to the oldest of the four original Ranch girls, but was likeher mother.
Ordinarily one could find her in the library at this time, when shecould count upon being fairly undisturbed.
Jack went from the drawing-room to the library on the left side of thehouse. If not Lina, Professor Russell might be discovered there. He andJim Colter's oldest daughter had developed a shy friendship from thefact that they often remained together in the big room reading for hourswithout speaking or disturbing each other.
But to-night there was not even a dim light in the library.
At the foot of the stairs Jack waited, puzzled and frowning for aninstant. Then she called softly, "Jean, Jean, what has become ofeverybody? Certainly you cannot all be asleep!"
As no answer followed, Jack started up the stairs. After having gone afew steps she called a second time.
Instead of Jean, however, Frieda appeared.
"Please don't make any noise," she admonished, "Peace is ill."
Jack ran up swiftly to where her sister was standing.
"How long has she been ill and why haven't you let me know?"
With a slight gesture of nervous irritability the younger of the twosisters drew away.
"Since yesterday, but not seriously so until to-day."
"Then why didn't you let me hear this morning? No member of my familyhas been near me all day. Do the others know?"
Frieda nodded.
"Yes, but I thought it best not to disturb _you_ with the news. You arefond of Peace, I suppose, even if you do prefer a public career to theaffection of your family. I knew, of course, that you were goingsomewhere this afternoon to address an audience and I thought you wouldwish not to have anything interfere even mentally with your speech."
"I see," Jack answered, with her usual gentleness and good temper. Shewas wounded, but Frieda's attitude toward her had been like this forsome time, and to-night, when she appreciated that her sister wasespecially troubled, was scarcely the moment to refer to theirdifferences. "Of course I should have preferred to know. Is Peace veryill?"
Frieda shook her head.
"No, not at present, but I am uneasy and we have sent for a nurse."
"Won't you let some of the other little girls come down to the lodge andstay with me?"
A second time Frieda shook her head.
"No, they have gone to Olive. Jean has gone with them. You know Oliveand Captain MacDonnell have an extra sleeping tent and I thought it bestyou should not be annoyed by them either."
This time Jack was unable wholly to restrain herself.
"Why should I have been annoyed, Frieda? I am not so impossible aperson, am I? And the work I have been trying to do lately, even if youdo disapprove of it, has not turned me into an ogre. But I won't worryyou to-night, although I do believe, Frieda, you really intend to beunkind. Has Jim come back? I have not seen him for several days and ifhe is at home and not busy I thought perhaps he would walk back to thelodge with me."
Never in her life from the time she was a small girl had Frieda acceptedreproof in an humble spirit, except under a few and very exceptionalcircumstances. The truth was that she had been spoiled all her days,first because she was the youngest of the four Rainbow ranch girls, hermother having died when she was little more than a baby, and later byher husband, who was a good deal her senior.
Now in spite of her sister's long self-restraint, Frieda showedresentment.
"It is your own fault and your own choice, Jack, that you no longer seemone of us as you did in the past. You can't have everything, you know,be a public character and a----"
"And a human being? I think you are mistaken, dear. I am very far frombeing a 'public character' as you express it, and I don't like theexpression. Yet it seems to me that the celebrated women I have readabout or known have been rather more human than most people, and not inthe least anxious to be discarded by their families because they havefound other things to occupy them outside of domestic life. I'll see youin the morning. Is Jim in his room, or has he gone with Jean and thelittle girls?"
Frieda frowned.
"Jim has not come back and that is another thing that is worrying us,although not a great deal. He wrote to say that he would return homethis afternoon before dinner and we waited dinner for him an hour. Butno word and no Jim. I suppose it is foolish to be uneasy, but Jim sorarely breaks his word even in the smallest matters, and he might havetelephoned. It would not be pleasant to have Jim disappear as RalphMerritt has, would it? It is funny, but now we are grown up, we seem todepend upon Jim as our guardian as much as we ever did. I don't see howwe could get on without him."
Frieda ended her remarks without any special significance; nevertheless,her last few words continued to repeat themselves in Jacqueline Kent'smind during her walk back to the lodge.
The storm of the afternoon had passed over and it was turning a gooddeal colder. Jack was not ordinarily impressionable and yet it seemed toher that to-night the sky possessed a peculiar hard brilliance, as ifthe mood of the outside world and the persons she loved were both harshand unsympathetic.
Even Jean and Olive had not been near her in twenty-four hours, and ifthey should pretend they were trying to spare her, she knew that informer times they would not have wished to keep her shut out either fromtheir happiness or sorrow.
Jim Colter would be different. Never at any moment in her life couldJack recall that he had been either harsh or unsympathetic, althoughstern he might be and had been when he thought it necessary. Howinfinitely kind he had been concerning this latest adventure of hers,regardless of his own disapproval.
About her difficulty of the afternoon he must never hear if she couldkeep the news from him. Yet of course if he had to know, Jack felt shewould prefer to describe the situation herself, making as light of it aspossible. All of her family and friends would be angry should they learnof it, even if some of them believed she deserved what she had received.But Jim would take the matter far more to heart.
How stupid of Frieda to talk of their ever having to get on without JimColter's guardianship! In any case it could not mean so much to Frieda,who had her devoted if eccentric husband always at her service. Besides,Frieda and Jim had never been devoted friends. Jim had cared for Frieda,of course, as her guardian and for Jean and Olive, but the other Rainbowranch girls had never shared his interests and tastes as she had done.
Jack drew her shawl more closely about her and started to run towardhome. She was feeling uncommonly forlorn and depressed. Yet surely theday had been a sufficiently trying one to depress almost any humanbeing!
The following morning Jacqueline was in the act of dressing when sheheard Jean's voice calling her from below.
"Jack, hurry, will you, and come up to the big house. Peace is ever somuch worse and the news has just reached us that Jim was hurt yesterdayafternoon. No one understands exactly what has happened. Billy Prestontelephoned, saying he was with Jim and would remain with him. We are notto go to him for the present. I answered the telephone myself and triedmy best to find out how badly Jim was hurt. Billy says he was not runover and had not had a fall, only there had been some kind of anaccident. He would not say what kind and I guessed by his voice that hewas not telling all the truth."
"I'll be with you in half a moment if you'll wait for me, Jean,"responded Jack.
A little later she joined Jean. "I wonder if you can tel
l me the name ofthe town where Jim was hurt yesterday?" she asked. "Surely BillyPreston told you as much as that! I must go to him of course."
The name of the town was what she had expected to be told. It was thevillage where she had attempted making a speech the afternoon before andbeen interrupted. Jim must have known of her plans and also learned ofwhat might take place. How like him to have gone quietly to herprotection without letting her hear of his presence! Yet in what way hadhe been hurt and how serious was his injury? Whatever other consequencesshe might hope to escape, for Jim's hurt she was entirely responsible.Whatever Frieda might say of her selfish interest in her own future, ofher desire for a career outside her own home and family, she would neverbe able to deny that Jim Colter had suffered because of her.
"Will you see that a car is ready for me immediately, please, Jean. Iwon't come back to the lodge. Jim will want me if anyone and I have thefirst right to go to him, because I am responsible."
Jean was scarcely listening.
"You won't be able to leave just now, Jack. After all Frieda'santagonism toward you she has been begging to have you come to hersince dawn. You seem to be the only person she wants."
Jean nodded.
"There is only one hope. The doctor means to try a transfusion of blood.I don't know from whom. We have all offered."
"Oh, Jean," Jack's voice shook, "I am the one person who will be best. Iam stronger than any one else and Peace has always responded to myvitality. Yet if I am chosen I can't go to Jim."
"The choice is pretty hard, Jack. If you can not go Olive and CaptainMacDonnell and I will. And some one will come back with the news as soonas possible. Yet you may not be the one."
However, as Jean Merritt looked at her cousin she had little doubt. Inspite of the fatigue and chagrin of the day before, even of her anxiousnight, Jack walked with the swinging grace of perfect health and poise.At this moment of dreadful double anxiety, harder upon her than any onesave Frieda, she was for the time when the need was greatest, perfectlyself-controlled. No one had ever seen Jack break down until the momentfor action had passed.
"It is because I have been so unkind to you, Jack darling, _this_ is mypunishment," Frieda confessed brokenly, meeting her sister outsidePeace's door. "But I have wanted to make up more times than you candream, only I am so dreadfully spoiled and do so hate to give in, and Ihave despised your running for a public office chiefly I suppose becauseI realized it would separate us. Peace won't know you."
Two hours later Frieda and Jack were in Frieda's bedroom, Jack undressedand in a loose white wrapper, her hair braided in two heavy braids.
"Now you must not be a goose, Frieda, dear," she expostulated. "I am notin the least danger from the blood transfusion, as the doctor has justtold you. I may be laid up for a little while afterwards, perhaps notlong. And there are many chances that Peace will get better at once. Youknow how glad I am of the opportunity to help. What is the use of beinga healthy person if one cannot be useful."
"But, Jack, you may be more exhausted than you dream. You may be forcedto give up your political work for several weeks. And Henry said onlyyesterday that these were the most important weeks of all, if you areto be elected. At the very last people will probably have made up theirminds one way or the other."
"Oh, well, perhaps the question of my election is not so important to meas you may think, Frieda. In any case it does not count the tiniestlittle bit in comparison with either you or Peace, now that you actuallyneed me. When I accepted the nomination for Congress I did not know thatanybody needed me especially except Jimmie. I thought perhaps I wasfreer than most women."
Jack was talking to distract Frieda, who had not been told of JimColter's injury and so did not realize the extent of the sacrifice hersister was making.