The White Shield

by Myrtle Reed

  A Laggard in Love

  "My dear," said Edith judiciously, "I think you're doing wrong."

  Marian dabbed her eyes with a very wet handkerchief and said nothing.Edith adjusted the folds of her morning gown and assumed a morecomfortable position on the couch.

  "They all have to be managed," she went on, "and you'll find that Mr.Thomas Drayton is no exception. I'll venture that when he makes hisvisits, which are like those of angels, 'few and far between' you tellhim how lonesome you've been without him, and how you've thought of himevery minute since the last time, and perhaps even cry a little bit! AmI right?"

  Marian nodded. "If it wasn't for that hateful Perkins girl, I wouldn'tcare so much. She's neither bright nor pretty, and I'm sure I don't seewhat Tom sees in her. I think it's more her fault than his."

  "The Perkins girl is entirely blameless, Miss Reynolds, though shecertainly is unpleasant. It is Tom's fault."

  The afflicted Miss Reynolds wiped her eyes again. "Perhaps it's mine.If I were quite what I ought to be, Tom wouldn't seek other society,I'm sure."

  Mrs. Bently sat up straight. "Marian Reynolds," she demanded, "have youever said anything like that to Tom?"

  "Something like that," Marian admitted. "What should I have done?"

  "Thrown a book at him," responded Mrs. Bently energetically. Thenshe leaned back among the pillows, and twisted the corners of herhandkerchief.

  "Don't be horrid, Edith, but tell me what to do," pleaded Marian.

  Mrs. Bently looked straight out of the window. "I've been marriednearly ten years," she said meditatively, "and I point with pardonablepride to my husband. There hasn't been any of the 'other womanbusiness' since the first days of our engagement. He never forgets thelittle words of endearment, he brings me flowers, and books, and he'squite as polite to me as he is to other women."

  "I know," replied Marian. "I've seen him break away from a crowd inthe middle of a sentence to put your rubbers on for you."

  "All that," resumed Edith, "is the result of careful training. And whatTom needs is heroic treatment. If you will promise to do exactly as Isay, you will have his entire devotion inside of a month."

  "I promise," responded Marian hopefully.

  "First, then, take off your engagement ring."

  Marian's pretty brown head drooped lower and lower, and a brighterdiamond fell into her lap. She felt again the passionate tenderness inhis voice when he told her how much he loved her, and she rememberedhow he had kissed each finger-tip separately, then the diamond, justbecause it was hers.

  She looked at her friend with eyes full of tears. "Edith, I can't."

  "Take it off."

  Marian obeyed, very slowly, then threw herself at the side of the couchsobbing. "Edith, Edith," she cried, "don't be so cross to me! I am sodreadfully unhappy!"

  "Marian, dearest, I'm not cross, but I want you to be a sensible girl.The happiness of your whole life is at stake, and I want you to bebrave--it is now or never with Mr. Thomas Drayton. If you let himtorture you now for his own amusement, he will do it all his life!"

  "I'll try, Edith, but you don't know how it hurts."

  "Yes, I do know, dear; I've been through it myself. Now listen. First,no more tears or reproaches. Secondly, don't allude to his absence, norto the Perkins girl. Thirdly, you must find some one else at once."

  "That's as bad as what he is doing, isn't it?"

  "_Similia similibus curantur_," laughed Edith. "Joe's friend, Jackson,is coming to the city for a month or so, and he'll do nicely. He'sawfully handsome, and a perfectly outrageous flirt. He always singlesout one girl, however, and devotes himself to her, so we won't have anytrouble on that score. People who don't know Jackson, think that he'sin deadly earnest, but I don't believe he ever had a serious thought inhis life."

  "I think I have seen him," said Marian. "Wasn't he at the Charity Ballwith you and Mr. Bently last year?"

  "Yes, he was there, but only for a few minutes. Now, let's see--to-dayis Thursday. Have you seen Tom this week?"

  Marian hesitated. "N-no, that is, not since Sunday. But I think he willcome this afternoon."

  "Very well, my dear, you have an engagement for the rest of the daywith me. Run home and put on your prettiest gown. We'll go to the ArtGallery and call on Mrs. Kean later. We both owe her a call, and I'lllook for you at two."

  Promptly at two o'clock Marian appeared with all traces of tearssmoothed away. "You'll do," said Edith. "I believe you're athoroughbred after all."

  At the Art Gallery they met what Mrs. Bently termed "the insufferablePerkins" clad in four different colours and looking for all the worldlike a poster. She was extremely pleasant, and insisted upon showingthem a picture which was "one of Mr. Drayton's favourites."

  Miss Reynolds adjusted her lorgnette critically. "Yes, I think this isabout the only picture in this exhibit which Tom and I both like. I'mso glad that you approve of our taste, Miss Perkins," and Marian smiledsweetly.

  Edith squeezed her arm rapturously as they moved away. "I'm proud ofyou. Those pictures were hung only day before yesterday. Why, there'sJoe."

  Mr. Bently greeted them cordially. "Jackson came this morning, Edith,and I have asked him to dine with us Monday evening."

  "That will be charming. Marian is coming to visit us over Sunday and Ithink they will like each other."

  "I hope so," was Mr. Bently's rejoinder. "It's really good of youto come, Miss Reynolds, for I very seldom see you, and Jackson is acapital fellow."

  "Come, Marian," said Edith, "you know we were going to make a call."

  "Always going somewhere, aren't you, sweetheart?" and Mr. Bently smiledlovingly at his pretty wife.

  "Never far away from you, dear," she answered and waved her hand to himas the crowd swept them apart.

  "You're going to stay all night with me, you know," Edith said."We'll stop at your house on our way back, and leave word with yourmother--incidentally we can learn if any one has called."

  It was almost dark when they reached Marian's home, and Edith waitedin the hall, while she went in search of her mother. As she camedown-stairs, Mrs. Bently held up a small white card, triumphantly.Marian's face flushed as she saw the name.

  "_Mr. Thomas E. Drayton._"

  "It's all right," said her friend, "just wait and see."

  Friday morning, the servant who admitted Marian, said that Mr. Draytonhad called the previous evening and left some flowers which MissReynolds would find in the library.

  A great bunch of American Beauties stood on the table, and almostoverpowered her with their fragrance.

  "Dear, dear Tom! He _does_ love me," she thought. "I'll write him anote."

  She sat down to her desk without removing her hat. "Perhaps I've beenmistaken all along." The words shaped themselves under her pen: "MyDearest." Then she stopped and surveyed it critically. "Not in thepresent incarnation of Miss Reynolds." She tore the sheet straightacross, and dropped it into the waste basket. Taking another, shewrote:

  "MY DEAR TOM:

  "The roses are beautiful. I am passionately fond of flowers--of rosesespecially, and I must thank you for the really great pleasure the'Beauties' are giving me.

  "Sincerely yours, "MARIAN REYNOLDS."

  Over his coffee the next morning Tom studied the little note. "I wonderwhat's the matter. 'My Dear Tom'! 'Marian Reynolds' and not a bit oflove in it. It isn't the least bit like her. I must go and see her thisafternoon. No, I'll be hanged if I will, she had no business to beout," and he chewed a toothpick savagely. "I'll ask her to go to thetheatre."

  After much cogitation, he evolved a note which struck him as being amarvel of diplomacy.

  "MY DEAR MARIAN:

  "I am glad the roses give you pleasure. Will you go to the theatre with me on Monday evening?

  "Yours in haste, "TOM."

  Marian's reply was equally concise:

  "MY DEAR TOM:

  "I am very sorry that I have an engagement for Monday evening and cannot possibly bre
ak it. You know I enjoy the theatre above all things, and I am sure I should have an especially pleasant evening with you.

  "Sincerely, "MARIAN REYNOLDS."

  Tom grew decidedly uncomfortable. What the mischief was the matterwith the girl! One thing was certain, next time he called, it would beat her invitation. But the following afternoon found him again at thehouse.

  "Miss Reynolds is out, sir," said the servant as he opened the door, inresponse to his ring.

  "I know," he responded impatiently; "I want to return a book I borrowedthe other day."

  "Certainly, sir," and the servant ushered him into the library.

  He put the book in its place, and his glance, travelling downward metthe waste basket. Marian's distinctive penmanship stared him in theface. "My Dearest!"

  Mr. Thomas Drayton was an honourable gentleman, but he wanted toexamine that waste-paper basket. He rushed out of the library, lest heshould yield to the temptation, and said to the servant in the hall:"Say nothing of my having been here to-day, Jones."

  "Certainly not, sir."

  "The book is a joke on Miss Reynolds," he said putting a silver halfdollar in Jones's ready palm.

  "All right, sir, I see." And Tom went out.

  Before he reached the avenue, he was mentally kicking himself forexplaining to a servant. He had of course noticed the roses on thetable, and he was very sure they had not been in Marian's room.

  Once she had told him, how she had slept with one of the roses nexther heart, and a thorn had pricked the flesh, making a red spot on awhite petal. She showed him the rose with its tiny blood stain. He hadkissed the flower and put it in a little memorandum book with a goldclasp. And he had told Marian, over and over again, what a horrid roseit was--to hurt his sweetheart. He smiled grimly at his own previousfoolishness, and felt sure that none of the American Beauties wouldrest next to Marian's heart that night.

  Miss Reynolds and Mrs. Bently sat in the latter's boudoir. Edith noddedsagely over Tom's note, and Marian was curled up in a forlorn heap onthe couch.

  "How does he usually begin his notes to you?"

  "'My Dearest Girl,' or 'Dear Sweetheart,'" answered Marian.

  "H'm! Well, my dear, you may depend upon it, he is 'beginning to takenotice.'"

  Sunday, Tom spent morosely at his club, and was so disagreeable thathis friends were very willing to give him a wide berth. Marian wasneither cheerful nor happy, and wept copiously in private, fancying Tomworshipping at the shrine of Miss Perkins.

  Monday evening she and Edith dressed together. Marian had a new gown ofthat peculiar shade of blue which seems to be especially made for browneyes and hair, and looked, as her friend told her, "simply stunning."

  "Joe has a box at the theatre to-night. Isn't he lovely?"

  Marian assented, but inwardly hoped that Tom would not hear of herbeing there.

  Mr. Sterling Jackson was a very pleasant fellow, with an inexhaustiblefund of humour. He devoted himself to Marian and looked unutterablethings whenever opportunity offered. Handsome, he certainly was, andshe was secretly flattered by his evident adoration. Tom didn't matterquite so much now.

  At the theatre Marian sat in the front of an upper box beside Mrs.Bently. The devoted Jackson leaned forward and talked to her in subduedtones. After the first act, Edith whispered to her:

  "Don't look, nor turn pale, nor do anything rash, but Mr. ThomasDrayton is down in the parquet with Miss Matilda Perkins." Marianturned white and grasped the rail of the box. "Don't faint till I tellyou. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he first saw you, and Idon't believe he has seen the stage at all. Perkins is simply greenwith rage, and I wish you could see her hat. It's a dream in pink andyellow--an equine dream."

  Marian's colour returned, and conscious of looking her best, sheflirted outrageously with the ever willing Jackson, though she confidedto Edith at the end of the second act, that she was "perfectlywretched."

  "Nobody suspects it," returned Mrs. Bently, "least of all Tom. He'schewing Perkins's fan, and she's trying to draw him out."

  For the remainder of the week Mr. Drayton studiously avoided theReynolds mansion. Marian had been seen on the Boulevard with theodious Jackson, and Miss Perkins had suddenly lost her charm. Marianwas always at home on Tuesdays. Next week he would drop in, in theafternoon, and see how the land lay.

  Mrs. Bently had heard, through her husband, that Drayton had gone outof the city, and the intelligence was promptly conveyed to Marian.

  The solitaire lay in a corner of Marian's chatelaine bag. She meditatedthe propriety of sending it back, but Edith would not hear of it.Her heart ached constantly for Tom, and she flirted feverishly withJackson. "I am at home Tuesdays," she said one evening when he lefther. "Come in for a little while and I will give you a cup of tea."

  He came early and found her alone. They chatted for a few minutes, andthen Mr. Thomas Drayton was announced. The two men were civil to eachother, but Marian felt their mutual irritation, and was relieved whenJackson rose to take his departure. He crossed the room to Tom andshook hands. "I am very glad to have met you, Mr. Drayton. I am sure weshall meet often, if you find Miss Reynolds as charming as I do." Hebowed politely to Marian and went out.

  "The insufferable cad!" thought Tom. He shivered, and Marian hastenedto the tea table.

  "It's awfully cold outside," she said, "and these rooms are not any toowarm. I'll make you some tea. You take two lumps of sugar, don't you?"

  Tom said nothing. Marian's pretty hands hovered over the teacups, andhe noticed that the left one was ringless.

  "Don't you wear your solitaire any more, Marian?" His voice was strangeand she was half afraid.

  "Oh, yes," she responded brightly, "sometimes. The points of thesetting catch in my glove though, and I am afraid of loosening thestone."

  "Marian, don't you care for me?"

  "Certainly."

  "How much?"

  "As much as you care for me, I think, don't you?"

  He went over and put his arm around her. She shrank a little at histouch, but he pulled her down on the sofa beside him.

  "Marian, darling, tell me what the matter is. I know I don't deserveyou, and I'll go, if you say I must. Has that fellow Jackson comebetween us?"

  Marian disregarded one of Edith's injunctions. "Perhaps it's MissPerkins."

  Tom said a very emphatic swear word, which does not look well in print,then buried his head in one of the sofa cushions. She was frightenedand sank down on her knees beside him, her armor of self-defencevanishing in womanly pity. "Tom, dear Tom! What is it? Tell me!"

  He straightened up and lifted her to the sofa beside him.

  "I see, sweetheart, I've been a fool and a great deal worse than that.Can you ever forgive me?"

  "One thing first, Tom, do you love me?"

  "Marian, dear, I never knew until this last wretched week, just howmuch you meant to me. I am yours, body and soul, to do with what youwill. I have no right to insult you, Marian, but will you take meback?" His voice trembled with the agony of love and pain, as shedrew the solitaire out of the chatelaine bag at her belt. She held itsilently toward him.

  "Darling, is it good-bye?"

  "No, dear, I want you to put it back."

  And that evening, in accordance with instructions, the servant said toMr. Sterling Jackson, "Miss Reynolds is out."

  Tr?umerei