Читать книгу The Secret of the Storm Country - Grace Miller White - Страница 23

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Frederick Graves had just left Tess at the shanty door. He had found it difficult to explain away his conduct on the evening of the musicale at Waldstricker's.

"It were awful," sobbed Tess, after Frederick had mollified her anger somewhat. "I wanted to die! Ye looked like some big man I didn't know 't all."

"Silly baby," laughed the student. "There were so many people there who know my mother—" He paused and kissed the upraised, tearful face passionately. "I didn't think you'd care. I supposed of course you'd understand. I'm awfully sorry you didn't. You'll forgive me, darling, won't you?"

Tess snuggled nearer him. She wanted to forget how unhappy she'd been.

"Sure, I don't care now—such a awful lot," she sighed.

Later in the evening, when he came into the hall of his home in Ithaca, he was greeted by his young sister, Babe.

"Fred," she called softly, "come on up, mother wants you."

For some minutes after taking off his hat, he remained in the lower hall considering just what to say to his mother. Shaking his head dismally, he mounted the stairs and went reluctantly to the front room. He hated scenes with his mother. He hated everything about the house, hated even the thought of going back to school. He wanted to take Tess away from the lake—make a home for her—to be with her always. How dear she had grown day by day since he'd married her! His very being fired at the memory of her clinging sweetness.

When he opened his mother's bedroom door and walked self-consciously forward to turn up the light, a fretful voice from the bed halted him.

"Fred, if you're going to make the room bright, please bring the screen forward."

He dropped his hand from the gas jet.

"It doesn't matter," said he, sulkily, and he moved to the foot of the bed. "Let it stay as it is. … Babe said you wanted me."

Mrs. Graves settled her glasses on the bridge of her nose and looked at him.

"Yes! I did tell her to send you in. What's the matter? Anything?"

"No." The answer was brutal in its curtness.

"You've been with that Skinner girl again." The woman sat up in bed and exclaimed angrily. "I can tell by the way you act."

A sudden fury took possession of the student.

"Of course, I haven't been to Skinner's," he contradicted roughly. "Didn't I tell you I wouldn't go and see her any more? What do you want now?"

Relieved by his words in spite of the ugly way in which they were uttered, Mrs. Graves sank back on the pillows. "Sit down," she invited.

He was too nervous and angry willingly to grant even so small a request just then.

"I can listen as well standing here," he answered crossly.

"But I can't talk as well when you stand," insisted Mrs. Graves, peevishly. "Frederick! What's happened to you since your father died? That squatter girl's turned your head. I know it. She's completely spoiled you."

Tessibel and all her girlish sweetness came vividly across the boy's mind. It was ridiculous to blame Tess. Ah, if he were as good as Tess desired him to be, his life would be the most exemplary.

"Please leave her name out of it, will you?" he rasped rudely. "Even if I can't see her, I won't hear anything against her."

Mrs. Graves sat up in bed, throwing back wisps of gray hair, that persisted in falling over her nose.

"Oh, you won't, eh?" she shrilled loudly. "Well, now, you listen to me. … You'll hear what I please to say to you, young man. It's a good thing you don't go to Skinner's any more. It's time you were interested in a decent girl. You've got to marry sometime. It's just as easy to love a rich girl as a poor one. Why don't you propose to Madelene Waldstricker?"

"Madelene's all right, I suppose," the boy answered "but I don't want to marry her."

"You better want to," his mother rejoined tartly. "You've got to do just that very thing."

"You're crazy, Mother. I won't do it. What do you take me for, anyhow? Get that idea out of your head and keep it out."

"If your father were here, you wouldn't dare to say such things to me. … I want you to sit down, do you hear?"

Frederick dropped into a chair wearily. The time had come to tell his mother that Tessibel Skinner was his wife. After that was done, there could be no such arguments. He started to speak, but his mother interrupted him.

"Madelene Waldstricker's wild over you," she explained. "You can't deny you've shown her open attention, at the same time you've been stealing down to that Skinner girl's hut. … Oh, don't deny it any more! But Madelene doesn't know very much about that, and she has lots of money. It's your duty to Babe and me."

"I won't marry her, or anyone else," Frederick repeated.

His voice was very low but every word was distinct.

Mrs. Graves lifted her pillow, turned it over, patted, and sank back upon it.

"Why?" she demanded, searching his face with accusing eyes. "Because of that fisherman's—"

Now he would tell her; now he would explain! He coughed, took out his handkerchief and wiped his lips.

"I shouldn't think you'd say anything against Tessibel Skinner," was what he said at last, "considering what she did for us."

Mrs. Graves uttered a scream, and covered her face with her hands.

"Now throw that in my face, will you?" she cried. "Can't you let me forget my shame and disgrace? Can't you see that girl coming into my life would bring constantly before me my daughter's downfall and death?"

Her voice was tragic, and Frederick's heart always had been tender toward his mother. He saw as vividly as if it had happened but yesterday Teola dying in the church. It had been such a dreadful experience for all of them. Frederick had never doubted for one moment that that terrible ordeal had been the cause of his father's death. He went quickly forward and slipped one arm about her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, mater," he murmured. "There, forgive me!—There!—Don't cry! … Now don't get nervous—the doctor said you mustn't cry."

Mrs. Graves shivered in the strong arms.

"I've reason enough to cry," she whimpered brokenly. "You won't do anything to help me, and you're the one who should."

"I'll go to work," he said eagerly. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm tired of college anyway!"

"Go to work!" echoed his mother. "What could you do? You wouldn't get ten dollars a week. Nor anything like it. You haven't any profession, and what is there in Ithaca to do anyway? … Oh, if your father'd only lived!"

She broke into a fresh burst of tears.

"Hush, please, dear," said Frederick, smoothing back the grey hair. "Go on and tell me what you want. There, see, now, I'm listening."

Mrs. Graves used her handkerchief vigorously.

"I said I wanted you to marry Madelene Waldstricker," she responded in ruffled tones. "You've but to ask her, and she'll jump. Babe says she talks of you all the time, and is frightfully jealous of you."

A fair, lovely face, glorious glistening brown eyes, and shrouding red curls passed between Frederick's vision and his mother's face, and he groaned.

"Don't! I said not to talk of Tess."

"But I can't help it," snapped Mrs. Graves. "I've got to tell you about Madelene, haven't I? You must ask her now. … She's staying here tonight."

Frederick withdrew his arms from under his mother and dropped his face hopelessly into his hands.

"Oh, God, help me!" he groaned between his fingers. "I can't do that, Mother! I can't!"

A tender hand went out slowly and touched him. He lifted his face with a sharp gesture and grasped his mother's fingers in his.

"Don't ask me to do that, oh, don't, darling mater, don't!" he moaned. "Anything else—I'd do anything else."

The feminine fingers closed over the masculine ones.

"I must ask you, my son," insisted Mrs. Graves, gently. "It's the only hope I have. … I've kept so many things from you, but now I'll tell you why. The lake place is mortgaged to Ebenezer Waldstricker for more than it's worth, and I've borrowed a lot of money from him and from Madelene."

Frederick's hands fell from his face.

"Good God! My God!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I couldn't—I couldn't, Fred, but now you see why you must do this for all our sakes. I haven't any money at all only what they let me have. Babe and I won't have any place to go if you don't help. Oh, Fred, you will think of it, dear, you will?"

The boy got up feeling as if something worse than death had happened to him. He saw no way out.

"Yes, I'll think of it," he temporized.

Mrs. Graves sank deeper into her pillow and closed her eyes with a long sigh. Frederick said no more, but turned quickly and went out of the room.

He staggered downstairs like a drunken man. He ought to have told his mother he was married to Tessibel Skinner. He couldn't marry any other woman! … How could he, when he was already married—married to the sweetest girl in the world? Oh, to get away somewhere to think quietly! To get something to stop the throbbing in his head! This new horror facing him was more than he could bear. He'd go back now and tell his mother he was married to Tess. … No, he'd wait until morning! He opened the library door and stepped in, crossed the room slowly and drew down the curtain. Turning, he saw a girl rise from the divan. Madelene Waldstricker reached out two rounded arms with an impatient gesture.

"Ah, you've come," she said, smiling into his eyes.

Frederick gazed at the small girlish figure curiously. The new interest in her awakened by the talk he'd just had with his mother, contended with the image of Tess in his mind—radiant, loving, splendid Tess.

He walked to the table and feigned interest in a book.

"I've been with my mother," he said hesitatingly.

"Yes, I know," asserted Madelene, coming to his side, "and she's awfully ill, isn't she?"

"More nervous than anything," replied the boy, impatiently.

"The doctor told your sister and me this afternoon she must have perfect rest if she ever recovers," explained Madelene. "He says she ought to be in a good health resort. … I wish I could help her."

"She tells me you have," blurted Frederick.

"But not so much as I'd like to," Madelene assured him softly.

There was deep sympathy in her voice, and Frederick looked at her critically. This small brown girl had taken on new significance to him. She had come into his life suddenly as a large part of it, that deadening financial part that tied him hand and foot and made him feel like a galley slave. But he could never marry her, never! He belonged to Tessibel Skinner by all the rights of Heaven and earth. He studied the eager girl again—for so long a time that she dropped her lids, blushing. Truly, Tess and Madelene formed a strange contrast—his bride with the red gold of her curls and eyes holding him a willing captive, and this bright-eyed, brown-skinned, little creature, before him with that eloquent, calling appeal of money for his mother.

Never before had he thought any one could for any reason whatever come between him and Tessibel Skinner. He did not concede it now in its fullness, but Madelene was looking pleadingly into his face and had spoken of his mother with tender sympathy. He suddenly reached out and took her hand. He would tell her of his young wife. He would take her into his confidence right then, and all would be well for them both—and for Tess.

"Listen, Madelene," the boy said earnestly. "I have something to say to you."

At the touch of his fingers, Madelene went white and swayed toward him. Her head fell forward on his chest, and his arms closed around her, as if to keep her from falling. Of a sudden, a flushed face was lifted to his, and a smile flashed around a rosy mouth.

"Oh, I'm so happy, oh, so happy!" whispered pursed lips.

And Madelene sighed as she dropped her head against him once more. For the moment Frederick's mind went blank, but the girl's voice drew him back.

"Oh, I was afraid you loved that girl who sings in the church," she was saying. "I've heard so often you did. I just couldn't bear the thought of it, Frederick. Your mother and Babe kept telling me you didn't, but I suppose I was a little jealous."

She laughed and snuggled nearer him. But a short hour before another girl, the girl he adored, his wife, had been in the same tender position. He was so dazed that for the moment he could not find words for an answer. Then slowly he led her forward to the divan.

"I want to talk to you," he ventured hesitatingly.

"Oh, I love to hear you talk," Madelene babbled with joy.

Frederick flushed. He'd have to tell her of his marriage with Tessibel before she really admitted anything that would afterwards make her sorry.

"What I've got to tell you is very serious," he said at length. "You'll listen to me, Madelene?"

Five small fingers touched his lips.

"Nothing is serious now," came the interruption, "not now that I know you love me. It's all I want in the world to make me supremely happy," and she sighed.

Frederick shuddered. Why, he hadn't told her he loved her! He was as far from loving her at that moment as the very stranger on the street.

"But it's something you must know," he thrust in desperately.

"I know what it is," averred the girl smiling. "I know all about it. … It's just money, that horrid old money your mother borrowed of brother and me. … But what does money matter? I've lots of it, bunches of it, and more than enough for us all, and so has Ebenezer."

Frederick shook himself impatiently. She must listen while he explained the impossibility of their ever being anything to each other.

"I couldn't take—"

"I'm not asking you to take anything but me," laughed the girl. "Just me, see? There, dearest! Now don't talk of anything disagreeable tonight. I just want to be happy."

And like a contented, purring kitten, she once more settled herself against him. Somehow Frederick couldn't tell her of Tessibel just then. The right moment had come and gone. In the morning he would! By the light of the day it would be easier. Then he would explain everything to her and his mother.

"Put your arms around me," whispered Madelene.

Thrusting Tessibel from his mind, he drew the little figure close into his arms.

"Kiss me," she breathed, and two hours later, when Frederick Graves shut his bedroom door, he had promised to marry Madelene Waldstricker.