CHAPTER XVI
A FIGHT AND A FINISH
In his shrewd guess at Margaret's reason for dealing so summarily withArkwright, Craig was mistaken, as the acutest of us usually are inattributing motives. He had slowly awakened to the fact that she was nota mere surface, but had also the third dimension--depth, whichdistinguishes persons from people. Whenever he tried to get at what shemeant by studying what she did, he fell into the common error of judgingher by himself, and of making no allowance for the sweeter and brighterside of human nature, which was so strong in her that, in happiercircumstances, the other side would have been mere rudiment.
Her real reason for breaking with Grant was a desire to be whollyhonorable with Craig. She resolved to burn her bridges toward Arkwright,to put him entirely out of her mind--as she had not done theretofore;for whenever she had grown weary of Craig's harping on her being theaggressor in the engagement and not himself, or whenever she had becomeirritated against him through his rasping mannerisms she had straightwaybegun to revolve Arkwright as a possible alternative. Craig'spersonality had such a strong effect on her, caused so many moods andreactions, that she was absolutely unable to tell what she reallythought of him. Also, when she was so harassed by doubt as to whetherthe engagement would end in marriage or in a humiliation of jilting,when her whole mind was busy with the problem of angling him within theswoop of the matrimonial net, how was she to find leisure to examine herheart? Whether she wanted him or simply wanted a husband she could nothave said.
She felt that his eccentric way of treating the engagement would justifyher in keeping Arkwright in reserve. But she was finding that there werelimits to her ability to endure her own self-contempt, and shesacrificed Grant to her outraged self-respect. Possibly she might havebeen less conscientious had she not come to look on Grant as anexceedingly pale and shadowy personality, a mere vague expression ofwell-bred amiability, male because trousered, identifiable chiefly bythe dollar mark.
Her reward seemed immediate. There came a day when Craig was alldevotion, was talking incessantly of their future, was never oncedoubtful or even low-spirited. It was simply a question of when theywould marry--whether as soon as Stillwater fixed his date for retiring,or after Craig was installed. She had to listen patiently to hours onhours of discussion as to which would be the better time. She had toseem interested, though from the viewpoint of her private purposesnothing could have been less important. She had no intention ofpermitting him to waste his life and hers in the poverty and uncertaintyof public office, struggling for the applause of mobs one despised asindividuals and would not permit to cross one's threshold. But she hadto let him talk on and on, and yet on. In due season, when she was readyto speak and he to hear, she would disclose to him the future she hadmapped out for him, not before. He discoursed; she listened. Atintervals he made love in his violent, terrifying way; she endured, nowhalf-liking it, now half-hating it and him, but always enduring,passive, as became a modest, inexperienced maiden, and with never asuggestion of her real thoughts upon her surface.
It was the morning after one of these outbursts of his, one of unusualintensity, one that had so worn upon her nerves that, all but revoltedby the sense of sick satiety, she had come perilously near to indulgingherself in the too costly luxury of telling him precisely what shethought of him and his conduct. She was in bed, with the blinds just up,and the fair, early-summer world visioning itself to her sick heart likeParadise to the excluded Peri at its barred gate. "And if he had givenme half a chance I'd have loved him," she was thinking. "I do believe inhim, and admire his strength and his way of never accepting defeat. Buthow can I--how CAN I--when he makes me the victim of these ruffian moodsof his? I almost think the Frenchman was right who said that every manought to have two wives.... Not that at times he doesn't attract me thatway. But because one likes champagne one does not wish it by the cask. Aglass now and then, or a bottle--perhaps--" Aloud: "What is it, Selina?"
"A note for you, ma'am, from HIM. It's marked important and immediate.You told me not to disturb you with those marked important, nor withthose marked immediate. But you didn't say what to do about those markedboth."
"The same," said Margaret, stretching herself out at full length, andsnuggling her head into the softness of her perfumed hair. "But now thatyou've brought it thus far, let me have it."
Selina laid it on the silk and swansdown quilt and departed. Margaretforgot that it was there in thinking about a new dress she was planning,an adaptation of a French model. As she turned herself it fell to thefloor. She reached down, picked it up, opened it, read:
"It's no use. Fate's against us. I find the President is making mymarriage the excuse for not appointing me. How lucky we did not announcethe engagement. This is a final good-by. I shall keep out of your way.It's useless for you to protest. I am doing what is best for us both.Thank me, and forget me."
She leaped from the bed with one bound, and, bare of foot and in hernightgown only, rushed to the telephone. She called up the Arkwrights,asked for Grant. "Wake him," she said. "If he is still in bed tell himMiss Severence wishes to speak to him at once."
Within a moment Grant's agitated voice was coming over the wire: "Isthat you, Rita? What is the matter?"
"Come out here as soon as you can. How long will it be?"
"An hour. I really must shave."
"In an hour, then. Good-by."
Before the end of the hour she was pacing her favorite walk in thegarden, impatiently watching the point where he would appear. At sightof her face he almost broke into a run. "What is it, Margaret?" hecried.
"What have you been saying to Josh Craig?" she demanded.
"Nothing, I swear. I've been keeping out of his way. He came to see methis morning--called me a dozen times on the telephone, too. But Irefused him."
She reflected. "I want you to go and bring him here," she saidpresently. "No matter what he says, bring him."
"When?"
"Right away."
"If I have to use force." And Grant hastened away.
Hardly had he gone when Williams appeared, carrying a huge basket oforchids. "They just came, ma'am. I thought you'd like to see them."
"From Mr. Arkwright?"
"No, ma'am; Mr. Craig."
"Craig?" ejaculated Margaret.
"Yes, Miss Rita."
"Craig," repeated Margaret, but in a very different tone--a tone ofimmense satisfaction and relief. She waved her hand with a smile ofamused disdain. "Take them into the house, but not to my room. Put themin Miss Lucia's sitting-room."
Williams had just gone when into the walk rushed Grant and Craig. Theirfaces were so flurried, so full of tragic anxiety that Margaret,stopping short, laughed out loud. "You two look as if you had come toview the corpse."
"I passed Craig on his way here," explained Grant, "and took him into mymachine."
"I was not on my way here," replied Josh loftily. "I was merely taking awalk. He asked me to get in and brought me here in spite of myprotests."
"You were on the road that leads here," insisted Arkwright with muchheat.
"I repeat I was simply taking a walk," insisted Craig. He had not oncelooked at Margaret.
"No matter," said Margaret in her calm, distant way. "You may take himaway, Grant. And"--here she suddenly looked at Craig, a cold, haughtyglance that seemed to tear open an abysmal gulf between them--"I do notwish to see you again. I am done with you. I have been on the verge oftelling you so many times of late."
"Is THAT what you sent Grant after me to tell me?"
"No," answered she. "I sent him on an impulse to save the engagement.But while he was gone it suddenly came over me that you wereright--entirely right. I accept your decision. You're afraid to marry mebecause of your political future. I'm afraid to marry you because of mystomach. You--nauseate me. I've been under some kind of hideous spell.I'm free of it now. I see you as you are. I am ashamed of myself."
"I thought so! I knew it would come!" exclaimed Arkwright triumphantl
y.
Craig, who had been standing like a stock, suddenly sprang into action.He seized Arkwright by the throat and bore him to the ground. "I've gotto kill something," he yelled. "Why not you?"
This unexpected and vulgar happening completely upset Margaret's prideand demolished her dignified pose. She gazed in horror at the two menstruggling, brute-like, upon the grass. Her refined education had madeno provision for such an emergency. She rushed forward, seized Craig bythe shoulders. "Get up!" she cried contemptuously, and she dragged himto his feet. She shook him fiercely. "Now get out of here; and don't youdare come back!"
Craig laughed loudly. A shrewd onlooker might have suspected from hisexpression that he had deliberately created a diversion of confusion,and was congratulating himself upon its success. "Get out?" cried he."Not I. I go where I please and stay as long as I please."
Arkwright was seated upon the grass, readjusting his collar and tie."What a rotten coward you are!" he said to Craig, "to take me off guardlike that."
"It WAS a low trick," admitted Josh, looking down at him genially. "ButI'm so crazy I don't know what I'm doing."
"Oh, yes, you do; you wanted to show off," answered Grant.
But Craig had turned to Margaret again. "Read that," he commanded, andthrust a newspaper clipping into her hand. It was from one of thenewspapers of his home town--a paper of his own party, but unfriendly tohim. It read:
"Josh Craig's many friends here will be glad to hear that he is catchingon down East. With his Government job as a stepping-stone he has sprunginto what he used to call plutocratic society in Washington, and isabout to marry a young lady who is in the very front of the push. Hewill retire from politics, from head-hunting among the plutocrats, andwill soon be a plutocrat and a palace-dweller himself. Success to you,Joshua. The 'pee-pul' have lost a friend--in the usual way. As for us,we've got the right to say, 'I told you so,' but we'll be good andrefrain."
"The President handed me that last night," said Craig, when he saw thather glance was on the last line. "And he told me he had decided to askStillwater to stay on."
Margaret gave the clipping to Grant. "Give it to him," she said andstarted toward the house.
Craig sprang before her. "Margaret," he cried, "can you blame me?"
"No," said she, and there was no pose in her manner now; it wassincerely human. "I pity you." She waved him out of her path and, withhead bent, he obeyed her.
The two men gazed after her. Arkwright was first to speak: "Well, you'vegot what you wanted."
Craig slowly lifted his circled, bloodshot eyes to Arkwright. "Yes,"said he hoarsely, "I've got what I wanted."
"Not exactly in the way a gentleman would like to get it," pursuedGrant. "But YOU don't mind a trifle of that sort."
"No," said Craig, "I don't mind a trifle of that sort. 'BounderJosh'--that's what they call me, isn't it?"
"When they're frank they do."
Craig drew a long breath, shook himself like a man gathering himselftogether after a stunning blow. He reflected a moment. "Come along,Grant. I'm going back in your machine."
"The driver'll take you," replied Arkwright stiffly. "I prefer to walk."
"Then we'll walk back together."
"We will not!" said Arkwright violently. "And after this morning theless you say to me the better pleased I'll be, and the less you'llimpose upon the obligation I'm under to you for having saved my lifeonce."
"You treacherous hound," said Craig pleasantly. "Where did you get thenerve to put on airs with me? What would you have done to her in thesame circumstances? Why, you'd have sneaked and lied out of it. And youdare to scorn me because I've been frank and direct! Come! I'll give youanother chance. Will you take me back to town in your machine?"
A pause, Craig's fierce gaze upon Grant, Grant's upon the ground. ThenGrant mumbled surlily: "Come on."
When they were passing the front windows of the house Craig assumed thatMargaret was hiding somewhere there, peering out at them. But he waswrong. She was in her room, was face down upon her bed, sobbing as ifher first illusion had fallen, had dashed to pieces, crushing her heartunder it.
The Fashionable Adventures of Joshua Craig: A Novel Page 16