GI Brides

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “It’s quite possible to have poverty come to anyone,” said Mr. Bonniwell soberly. “Things happen in this world, and you can’t ever be sure any of them won’t come to you. And when they come, I’d want to be sure that there was gentleness and loving-kindness and tenderness and a world of protection for my girl. Sickness and suffering, too, may be anybody’s lot.”

  “Oh, I’ll take the chance,” said Dan, with a shrug and a laugh.

  “But that isn’t enough. You’ve got to be sure you will be all that my girl needs to help her weather these things, if, or when, they come. I don’t want my girl to take a chance.”

  Dan smiled in a superior way.

  “Oh, don’t be a pessimist!” he said. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll look after her. She’ll be all right. Come, Mr. Bonniwell, don’t let’s draw this thing out. You know you can bank on me all right. Give me your okay now, and I won’t bother you any longer.”

  Mr. Bonniwell straightened up with that firm set of his lips that his business associates knew meant serious disagreement and shook his head.

  “Sorry, Dan, I can’t comply at present. I’ve got to have time to think this thing over, so you needn’t go any further in your plans until you hear from me, and that’s final. I’ll bid you good morning now, for I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “But—Mr. Bonniwell—” began Dan, leaning forward with a wheedling manner.

  “No buts, Dan Seavers! I meant what I said.”

  “Mr. Bonniwell, you wouldn’t like it very well if Blythe and I eloped, would you?” asked the young man, flashing his eyes with a look that he meant to convey dangerous threats.

  “No,” said Blythe’s father, “but my daughter would never do that.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you. Your daughter might do just that thing if the right arguments were brought to bear upon her. If I know her at all, I’m sure she would if you made it necessary by withholding your consent.”

  “If my daughter did that, young man, she would have to take the consequences. Now, I will bid you good morning again, and this is final.”

  While he was speaking he pressed the buzzer on his desk, and his secretary promptly appeared at the door, pencil and pad in hand, ready to take dictation. She took her regular seat near Mr. Bonniwell’s desk, and the business magnate swung around, reached for a letter tray, and began to dictate a letter, so Dan Seavers perceived that the interview was ended, at least for the present. He rose and stood hesitantly a moment, but perceiving no further notice as to be taken of him, he spoke again, in a quiet, rather haughty tone:

  “When can I hope to have that answer from you, Mr. Bonniwell?”

  The father finished the sentence he was dictating and then said, lifting his eyes briefly to his persistent caller, “I will let you know when I have had sufficient time to think the matter over.” And then he went on with the letter he was dictating.

  Dan Seavers turned angrily toward the door, and then with his hand on the doorknob he flung back, “I think you will be sorry, Mr. Bonniwell, that you have taken this attitude.”

  This time Mr. Bonniwell did not even lift his eyes as he answered almost meditatively, “It may be so. And then again, I might be even more sorry if I should take any other.”

  Furious at the failure of what he considered a stroke of genius calculated to put his future father-in-law forever in his debt, Dan Seavers stalked from the room and closed the door forcefully. Mr. Bonniwell went calmly on with his dictation, though he was by no means calm within himself. This idea of his little girl grown up and somebody trying to marry her in a hurry and take her away, was entirely a new thought to him, and that somebody a young snob with a weak chin and a way of trying to act superior! What did it matter that he was handsome and had a lot of money in his own right? The young scoundrel hadn’t even had the grace to say that he loved her! Bah! Was it possible that Blythe had had so little insight into character as to fall in love with that poor excuse of a man? Well, if she had, he probably would have to give in, but poor child! Wasn’t there some way to save her from a future like that? And so he went on thinking, and trying to dictate with the other half of his brain. It was well he had a smart secretary who knew his ways and framed her sentences with a view to his usual habits of diction.

  But as the morning went on, he grew more and more opposed to the plans that Dan Seavers had outlined to him, and less and less able to concentrate on his business. And at last about lunchtime he called up his wife and asked her what time she was going to be at the house, saying he had something important he wanted to talk over with her. But when he found that she was not to be back from a committee meeting until late in the afternoon, he settled back grimly to work again, getting a lot of important trifles out of the way and giving definite orders about matters of business to his efficient secretary, planning the morrow’s work pretty fully for her, with the idea in mind that he simply couldn’t do any real work down here at the office himself until this matter of Dan’s proposition was settled one way or the other.

  As the day wore on he felt much as if there were a sudden and calamitous illness in the house, the outcome of which could not yet be foretold.

  He tried to tell himself that this was ridiculous. That he simply must not get so upset at the idea of Blythe’s belonging to anybody else but her parents. He tried to tell himself that probably all loving parents felt the same way when called upon to give up a beloved daughter and let her go away to make a new home of her own. And of course it was right that she should. He wasn’t a fool, and he had always counted on such a possibility. But somehow it seemed too soon. Why, she was just home from college, and they had so counted on her coming back to them! And then to have her marrying this unsatisfactory playmate of her childhood, this Seavers fellow he had never quite liked. It was unthinkable! It was unbearable! He couldn’t stand it!

  Over and over these thoughts ran through his mind, winding in and out of the business he was forcing upon himself. He would resolutely put all thoughts of this fantastic proposition of Dan’s out of his mind, and then the next moment it would come blasting back into the depths of his soul again, threatening to disarm him utterly.

  And then that phrase of having a wedding almost immediately! Why, it was preposterous! A war wedding! His daughter. A wedding was a sacred thing that should be approached deliberately and with solemnity, and consideration. Not rushed into with a frenzy of enthusiasm to keep up with the times. It certainly was not going to help the war to be won to have a host of young people mating off in droves, merely because everybody else was doing it. Even if a man were going out to die, it would not help him any better to die to have gone through a hasty ceremony. But this young man was not even going off to die. He was taking over a comfortable berth in an office, and there was no rush about it. There was plenty of time for Blythe to be sure what she was doing. No marrying in haste to repent at leisure for his daughter. She must be sure she had the right man, and be sure there was mutual love. Not just fondness!

  Again and again he would come back to that unfortunate word “nuts,” and his lip would curl with distaste at the thought of the way Dan had said it, with a casual tolerance in his attitude. Oh, he couldn’t stand it to have Blythe go off with that young man! He would never be able to trust her with him.

  Then he would get up and pace across his office, back and forth, and dictate with all the feverishness that a most momentous business proposition might have caused, out of all proportion to the importance of the letter he happened to be dictating.

  He sent his secretary out to her lunch early and had a cup of coffee sent up from the restaurant for himself, but still his unhappy musings continued. The situation seemed to grow more and more impossible as the day went by.

  When the late afternoon drew on he began to wonder about his wife. Did Alice know about this? Had Dan talked to her? Had she talked with Blythe about it? Did Blythe have any inkling of Dan Seavers’s feeling for her?

  F
ondness, indeed! You needn’t tell him that even the modern young people had got to the place where they were contemplating an immediate and hasty marriage without some preliminary courtship? The world couldn’t have changed that much since he and Alice were courting. But then the thought of courtship between his daughter and a man who merely professed a “fondness” for her became so obnoxious to him that he could scarcely contain himself, and though it was a full half hour before the time he had promised himself he might with self-respect go home and go into this matter most thoroughly, he finally told his secretary that she had done well and might go home and finish the last few letters that he had dictated in the morning. She had worked hard and must be tired.

  The secretary gave him a puzzled, half-worried look but thanked him and departed, and eagerly he got into his overcoat, took his hat and briefcase, and started on his way, the same old thoughts thrashing themselves out in the weary brain.

  When he reached home he found that neither his wife nor daughter had as yet arrived, and in despair he put on his dressing gown and slippers and went and lay down on his couch and went to sleep!

  Chapter 12

  When Mrs. Bonniwell came in half an hour later, she saw her husband asleep and tiptoed around, not to waken him. Poor Father! He was working so hard these days, he must be all worn out, or perhaps he was sick. She found a light shawl and softly spread it over him, drew the shades down so that the light would be dim, preparing to get quietly out of the room and keep the house still. But Bonniwell wasn’t so sound asleep but that he heard her and felt her ministrations, and his spirit underneath the light sleep was still so troubled that he came sharply awake and sat up.

  “Alice!” he said, blinking at his wife. “Is that you? I thought you would never get here. What’s kept you so long?”

  “Why, I came as soon as I could after you called,” she said. “There were some matters in the committee that I had to settle first, and then I had to wait for a bus. But I’m here now. What is the matter? Are you sick? I never saw you lie down in the daytime. Have you a fever?”

  “No, I haven’t any fever, except inside. I’m just worried. Alice, has our little girl been falling in love with that nincompoop, Dan Seavers? Because if she has, I won’t have it! I tell you I won’t have it! He has a weak chin and shifty eyes. I know you women think he’s handsome, but if you like that sissified beauty in a man, I don’t. I tell you, he’s no man for our girl. But if she thinks she’s in love, we’ve got to deal with it carefully, for I won’t have her hurt. But I want to know the truth, the whole truth about it, and right away! It’s important, I tell you.”

  “The truth about what, Daddy?” chirped Blythe, suddenly arriving from the side door and coming into the room, rosy and radiant.

  Mr. Bonniwell gasped and then faced the issue.

  “The truth about you, child. Are you in love with anybody? I want to know the whole truth. Are you planning to run off and get married without our knowledge? Tell me at once!”

  For answer Blythe laughed merrily.

  “Why, Daddy! Where did you get that idea? Of course not. You didn’t think I’d ever elope, did you?”

  “Well, I didn’t think you would, but you haven’t answered my question. Are you in love with anybody?”

  Then the mother put in:

  “Now, Daddy, aren’t you being awfully abrupt with your only child?”

  The father glared at his wife.

  “You keep out of this, Alice. I want my question answered.”

  Blythe flushed and then looked up with a wheedling glance, perceiving in her heart that the time for confession might be near at hand.

  “Daddy! And suppose I was, do you think I would like to have the fact drawn out of me like a sore tooth?”

  “You haven’t answered me! Are you in love?”

  Blythe’s cheeks got rosier, and she gave one swift glance at her mother then lifted her eyes bravely to her father’s face.

  “Well, Daddy, I might be,” she said sweetly. “What of it?”

  Her father came up, standing.

  “With that nincompoop, Dan Seavers?” he thundered.

  Then Blythe laughed out merrily again.

  “Daddy! Where did you get that idea? Whoever could have told you that?”

  Mr. Bonniwell watched his daughter sharply, grimly, his jaw set, his brows drawn, his gaze steady.

  At last he spoke.

  “Blythe, I insist on being answered. Are you in love with someone?”

  “Well, Daddy, I’ve always been in love with you—and Mother,” she added mischievously. She gave a whimsical little giggle. Was this the time for her to tell about Charlie?

  “Blythe! I mean it! I am asking you seriously. I want an answer at once and no more nonsense!”

  Blythe grew serious at once.

  “Well, Daddy, yes, I am in love with somebody, and I have just been waiting from day to day to have a good opportunity to tell you and Mother about it. I guess this is as good a time as any. Let’s go into the library where we won’t be interrupted and sit down. And don’t look so blank over it, it’s nothing to feel bad about. Dad, you look as white as if you were going to fall over in a faint. Shall I help you to a chair?”

  “Child, it can’t be possible that you are wanting to marry that lazy good-for-nothing Dan Seavers?”

  But Blythe only laughed.

  “No, Daddy, certainly not!” she said with a happy little lilt to her voice. “It is somebody a great deal finer than Dan. Dan’s just an old childhood friend, but I never was in love with him.”

  “Oh, my child!” said her father with a relieved sigh, sinking down in a nearby chair.

  “But my dear,” spoke up Blythe’s mother, “what is this you are saying? Somebody else? Oh, my dear! You’ve never said anything about somebody else to me.”

  “No, Mother, I haven’t. There hasn’t been any chance since it happened. You were always going somewhere, or things were sort of strenuous, and I was waiting until I could tell you calmly.”

  Mrs. Bonniwell’s face was white now and her eyes full of anguish. It might be bad enough to have Blythe fall in love with somebody who wasn’t perfection, whom they had known from childhood; but this person that Blythe was talking about was as yet an unknown quantity, and the very thought of it made Mrs. Bonniwell weak. She sank down in another chair and looked wildly at her child who suddenly seemed to have grown up away beyond her.

  “Who is it, Blythe?” she asked in almost a whisper, unable to speak clearly with her shaken voice.

  “Why, Mother, you wouldn’t know him. At least, I may have spoken of him sometimes, but you wouldn’t remember, I’m afraid.”

  “But, my dear! You wouldn’t certainly engage yourself to a stranger we didn’t know without at least telling us of it.”

  “Wait, Mother. Let me begin at the beginning and explain. Father asked me if I love anybody and I have answered him truly, yes, I love somebody. Now, let me tell you all about it. Do you remember, Mother, I used to tell you about one of the boys in our high school who was very bright, and always at the head of the class?”

  “Why, yes, I do recall something like that, Blythe, but that was a long time ago, and he was only a young boy. Surely you wouldn’t mean that you have stuck to an ideal of your high school days and fancy yourself in love with him! Why, child, you haven’t had any opportunity to really get acquainted with him. It seems to me you never spoke of meeting him socially. Who is he? Who are his people? Are they all right? You know we couldn’t ever consent to letting you marry into a questionable family.”

  “Let her tell, Mother,” interrupted the father. “Let her tell it in her own way.”

  “All right, Blythe, but tell quickly. I feel as if I could scarcely breathe.”

  “Don’t feel that way, Mother. I’ll tell it as quickly as I can. Please calm down and don’t take it for granted that it is bad. I think it is very beautiful.”

  “Oh, Blythe!” cried her mother, almost in tears. “To t
hink it should have gone so far, and we didn’t know anything about it.”

  “Keep still, Alice. Reserve your judgment till you hear the whole story,” said Mr. Bonniwell. “Go on, Blythe. What is his name?”

  “His name is Charlie Montgomery,” said Blythe calmly, lifting her head proudly. “They’re not important people, not now, if that’s what you mean. Charlie’s father died about the time he entered high school. His mother is gone, too, now. But he’s a wonderful person, and if you could know him, I’m sure you would say so.”

  “But, Blythe, when did this all happen? How is it that we have not heard anything about it before?” asked her mother in a trembling voice. “It isn’t like you to make a mystery of anything you are doing.”

  “Nothing has happened, Mother,” said Blythe cheerfully. “Charlie and I were in classes together four years. I knew that he was a boy with a lot of courage and principle, honest and fine, and a good student. He hadn’t much time to get acquainted with anybody in high school, for he was working after school, and sometimes evenings. He took care of his mother, and I guess he had a rather wonderful mother from little things he has told me. But that doesn’t matter now anyway, except that she has been a great influence for good in his life, I am sure.”

  “But how do you know all this, Blythe, if you didn’t have much to do with him in school?”

  Blythe gave her mother a clear straight glance, and smiled.

  “I’m not sure how I know it, Mother,” she said thoughtfully. “I just know it. I think I have sort of grown into the knowledge of all that during our years of school together, not so much from anything he said about it, for he never said much to me about anything except our studies, until a few days ago.”

  “A few days ago!” exclaimed her father. “Do you mean that this is something new, Blythe? I don’t understand it. Where has the young man been that we haven’t seen him about at all?”

  “He’s been away to college, as I was, of course,” answered Blythe.

  “Well, but—have you been corresponding?” This from her mother.