Complete Works of F Marion Crawford

by F. Marion Crawford

  “I shall go now,” said Katharine. “And we thank you very much,” she added, holding out her hand.

  The clergyman let them out and stood looking after them for a few seconds. Then he slowly nodded twice and re-entered the church. Ralston and Katharine walked away very slowly, both looking down, and each inwardly wondering whether the other would break the silence. It was natural that they should not speak at first. The words of the service had brought very clearly before them the meaning of what they had done, and the clergyman’s short speech, made as he said for the sake of satisfying his own scruples of conscience, had influenced them by its earnestness. They reached a crossing without having exchanged a syllable. As usual in such cases, a chance exclamation broke the ice.

  “Take care!” exclaimed Ralston, laying his hand on Katharine’s arm, and looking at an express wagon which was bearing down on them.

  “It’s ever so far off still,” said Katharine, smiling suddenly and looking into his face. “But I like you to take care of me,” she added.

  He smiled, too, and they waited for the wagon to go by. The clouds had broken away at last and the low morning sun shone brightly upon them.

  “I’m so glad it’s fine on our wedding day, Jack!” exclaimed Katharine. “It was horrid yesterday afternoon. How long ago that seems! Did you hear him call me Mrs. Ralston? Katharine Ralston — how funny it sounds! It’s true, that’s your mother’s name.”

  “You’ll be Mrs. John Ralston — to distinguish.” John laughed. “Yes — it does seem long ago. What did you do with yourself yesterday?”

  “Yesterday? Let me see — I sat for my portrait, and then I went home, and then late in the afternoon Charlotte suddenly appeared, and then I dined with the Joe Allens — the young couple, you know, don’t you? And then I went to the dance. I hardly knew what I was doing, half the time.”

  “And I hardly know why I asked the question. Isn’t it funny? I believe we’re actually trying to make conversation!”

  “You are — I’m not,” laughed Katharine. “It was you who began asking. I was talking quite sentimentally and appropriately about yesterday seeming so long ago, you know. But it’s true. It does — it seems ages. I wonder when time will begin again — I feel as though it had stopped suddenly.”

  “It will begin again, and it will seem awfully long, before this afternoon — when uncle Robert has refused to have anything to do with us.”

  “He won’t refuse — he shan’t refuse!” Katharine spoke with an energy which increased at every syllable. “Now that the thing is done, Jack, just put yourself in his position for a moment. Just imagine that you have anywhere between fifty and a hundred millions, all of your own. Yes — I know. You can’t imagine it. But suppose that you had. And suppose that you had a grand-niece, whom you liked, and who wasn’t altogether a disagreeable young person, and whom you had always rather tried to pet and spoil — not exactly knowing how to do it, but out of sheer good nature. And suppose that you had known ever so long that there was only one thing which could make your nice niece perfectly happy—”

  “It’s all very well, Katharine,” interrupted Ralston, “but has he known that?”

  “I’ve never failed to tell him so, on the most absurdly inadequate provocation. So it must be his fault if he doesn’t know it — and I shall certainly tell him all over again before I bring out the news. It wouldn’t do to be too sudden, you know. Well, then — suppose all that, and that the young gentleman in question was a proper young gentleman enough, as young gentlemen go, and didn’t want money, and wouldn’t take it if it were offered to him, but merely asked for a good chance to work and show what he could do. That’s all very simple, isn’t it? And then realize — don’t suppose any more — just what’s going to happen inside of half an hour. The devoted niece goes to the good old uncle, and says all that over again, and calmly adds that she’s done the deed and married the young gentleman and got a certificate, which she produces — by the bye, you must give it to me. Don’t be afraid of my losing it — I’m not such a goose. And she goes on to say that unless the good uncle does something for her husband, she will simply make the uncle’s life a perfectly unbearable burden to him, and that she knows how to do it, because if he’s a Lauderdale, she’s a Lauderdale, and her husband is half a Lauderdale, so that it’s all in the family, and no entirely unnecessary consideration is to be shown to the victim — well? Don’t you think that ought to produce an effect of some sort? I do.”

  “Yes,” laughed Ralston, “I think so, too. Something is certainly sure to happen.”

  CHAPTER XVI.

  KATHARINE LET RALSTON accompany her within a block of Robert Lauderdale’s house and then sent him away.

  “It’s getting late,” she said. “It must be nearly ten o’clock, isn’t it? Yes. People are all going out at this hour in the morning, and it’s of no especial use to be seen about together. There’s the Assembly ball to-night, and of course you’ll come and talk to me, but I shall see you — or no — I’ll write you a note, with a special delivery stamp, and post it at the District Post-Office. You’ll get it in less than an hour, and then you’ll know what uncle Robert says.”

  “I know already what he’ll say,” answered Ralston. “But why mayn’t I wait for you here?”

  “Now, Jack! Don’t be so ridiculously hopeless about things. And I don’t want you to wait, for I haven’t the least idea how long it may last, and as I said, there’s no object in our being seen to meet, away up here by the Park, at this hour. Good-bye.

  “I hate to leave you,” said Ralston, holding out one hand, with a resigned air, and raising his hat with the other.

  “I like that in you!” exclaimed Katharine, noticing the action. “I like you to take off your hat to me just the same — though you are my husband.” She looked at him a moment. “I’m so glad we’ve done it!” she added with much emphasis, and a faint colour rose in her face.

  Then she turned away and walked quickly in the direction of Robert Lauderdale’s house, which was at the next corner. As she went she glanced at the big polished windows which face the Park, to see whether any one had noticed her. She knew the people who lived in one of the houses, and she had an idea that others might know her by sight, as the niece of the great man who had built the whole block. But there were only two children at one of the windows, flattening their rosy faces against the pane and drumming on it with fat hands; very smartly dressed children, with bright eyes and gayly-coloured ribbons.

  As Katharine had expected, Robert Lauderdale was at home, had finished his breakfast and was in his library attending to his morning letters. She was ushered in almost immediately, and as she entered the room the rich man’s secretary stood aside

  “ ‘I’m glad to see you, my dear child!’ he said warmly.” — Vol. II., 3.

  to let her pass through the door and then went out — a quiet, faultlessly dressed young man who had the air of a gentleman. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles, which looked oddly on his young face.

  Robert Lauderdale did not rise to meet Katharine, as he sat sideways by a broad table, in an easy position, with one leg crossed over the other and leaning back in his deep chair. But a bright smile came into his cheerful old face, and stretching out one long arm he took her hand and drew her down and gave her a hearty kiss. Still holding her by the hand, he made her sit in the chair beside him, left vacant by the secretary.

  “I’m glad to see you, my dear child!” he said warmly. “What brings you so early?”

  He was a big old man and was dressed in a rough tweed of a light colour, which was very becoming to his fresh complexion. His thick hair had once been red, but had turned to a bright sandy grey, something like the sands at Newport. His face was laid out in broad surfaces, rich in healthy colour and deeply freckled where the skin was white. His keen blue eyes were small, but very clear and honest, and the eyebrows were red still, and bushy, with a few white hairs. Two deep, clean furrows extended from beside the nostrils into the c
arefully brushed beard, and there were four wrinkles, and no more, across the broad forehead. No one would have supposed that Robert Lauderdale was much over sixty, but in reality he was ten years older. His elder brother, the philanthropist, looked almost as though he might have been his father. It was clear that, like many of the Lauderdales, the old man had possessed great physical strength, and that he had preserved his splendid constitutional vitality even in his old age.

  Katharine did not answer his question immediately. She was by no means timid, as has been seen, but she felt a little less brave and sure of herself in the presence of the head of her family than when she had been with Ralston a few minutes earlier. She was not aware of the fact that in many ways she dominated the man who was now her husband, and she would very probably not have wished to believe she did; but she was very distinctly conscious that she could never, under any imaginable circumstances, exert any direct influence over her uncle Robert, though she might persuade him to do much for her. He was by nature himself of the dominant tribe, and during forty years he had been accustomed to command with that absolute certainty of being obeyed which few positions insure as completely as very great wealth does. As she looked at him for a moment before speaking, the little opening speech she had framed began to seem absolutely inadequate, and she could not find words wherewith to compose another at such short notice. Being courageous, however, she did not hesitate long, but characteristically plunged into the very heart of the matter by telling him just what she felt.

  “I’ve done something very unusual, uncle Robert,” she began. “And I’ve come to tell you all about it, and I prepared a speech for you. But it won’t do. Somehow, though I’m not a bit afraid of you—” she smiled as she met his eyes— “you seem ever so much bigger and stronger than I thought you were, now that I’ve got here.”

  Uncle Robert laughed and patted her hand as it lay on the desk.

  “Out with it, child!” he exclaimed. “I suppose you’re in trouble, in some way or other, and you want me to help you. Is that it?”

  “You must help me,” answered Katharine. “Nobody else can. Uncle Robert—” She paused, though a pause was certainly not necessary in order to give the plain statement more force. “I’ve just been married to Jack Ralston.”

  “Good — gracious — heavens!”

  The old man half rose from his seat as he uttered the words, one by one, in his deep voice. Then he dropped into his chair again and stared at the young girl in downright amazement.

  “What in the name of common sense induced you to do such a mad thing?” he asked very quietly, as soon as he had drawn breath.

  Katharine had expected that he would be surprised, as was rather natural, and regained her coolness and decision at once.

  “We’ve loved each other ever since we were children,” she said, speaking calmly and distinctly. “You know all about it, for I’ve told you before now just how I felt. Everybody opposed it — even my mother, at last — except you, and you certainly never gave us any encouragement.”

  “I should think not, indeed!” exclaimed old Lauderdale, shaking his great head and beating a tattoo on the table with his heavy fingers.

  “I don’t know why not, I’m sure,” Katharine answered, with rising energy. “There’s no reason in the world why we shouldn’t love each other, and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to me if there were. I should love him just the same, and he would love me. He went to my father last year, as you know, and papa treated him outrageously — wanted to forbid him to come to the house, but of course that was absurd. Jack behaved splendidly through it all — even papa had to acknowledge that, though he didn’t wish to in the least. And I hoped and hoped, and waited and waited, but things went no better. You know when papa makes up his mind to a thing, no matter how unreasonable it is, one might just as well talk to a stone wall. But I hadn’t the smallest intention of being made miserable for the rest of my life, so I persuaded Jack to marry me—”

  “I suppose he didn’t need much persuasion,” observed the old gentleman, angrily.

  “You’re quite wrong, uncle Robert! He didn’t want to do it at all. He had an idea that it wasn’t all right—”

  “Then why in the world did he do it? Oh, I hate that sort of young fellow, who pretends that he doesn’t want to do a thing because he means to do it all the time — and knows perfectly well that it’s a low thing to do!”

  “I won’t let you say that of Jack!” Katharine’s grey eyes began to flash. “If you knew how hard it was to persuade him! He only consented at last — and so did the clergyman — because I promised to come and tell you at once—”

  “That’s just like the young good-for-nothing, too!” muttered the old man. “Besides — how do I know that you’re really married? How do I know that you’re not—”

  “Stop, please! There’s the certificate. Please persuade yourself, before you accuse me of telling falsehoods.”

  Katharine was suddenly very angry, and Robert Lauderdale realized that he had gone too far in his excitement. But he looked at the certificate carefully, then took out his note-book and wrote down the main facts with great care.

  “I didn’t mean to doubt what you told me, child,” he said, while he was writing. “You’ve rather startled me with this piece of news. Human life is very uncertain,” he added, using the clergyman’s own words, “and it may be just as well that there should be a note made of this. Hadn’t you better let me keep the certificate itself? It will be quite safe with my papers.”

  “I wish you would,” answered Katharine, after a moment’s thought.

  The production of the certificate had produced a momentary cessation of hostilities, so to speak, but the old gentleman had by no means said his last word yet, nor Katharine either.

  “Go on, my dear,” he resumed gravely. “If I’m to know anything, I should know everything, I suppose.”

  “There’s not very much more to tell,” Katharine replied. “I repeat that it was all I could do to persuade Jack to take the step. He resisted to the very last—”

  “Hm! He seems to have taken an active part in the proceedings in spite of his resistance—”

  “Of course he did, after I had persuaded him to. It was up to that point that he resisted — and even after everything was ready — even this morning, when I met him, he told me that I ought not to have come.”

  “His spirit seems to have been willing to have some sense — but the flesh was weak,” observed the old gentleman, without a smile.

  “I insist upon taking the whole responsibility,” said Katharine. “It was I who proposed it, and it was I who made him do it.”

  “You’re evidently the strong-minded member, my dear.”

  “In this — yes. I love him, and I made up my mind that it was right to love him and that I would marry him. Now I have.”

  “It is impossible to make a more direct statement of an unpleasant truth. And now that you’ve done it, you mean that your family shall take the consequences — which shows a strong sense of that responsibility you mentioned — and so you’ve come to me. Why didn’t you come to me yesterday? It would have been far more sensible.”

  “I did think of coming yesterday afternoon — and then it rained, and Charlotte came—”

  “Yes — it rained — I remember.” Robert Lauderdale’s mouth quivered, as though he should have liked to smile at the utter insignificance of the shower as compared with the importance of Katharine’s action. “You might have taken a cab. There’s a stand close by your house, at the Brevoort.”

  “Oh, yes — of course — though I should have had to ask mamma for some money, and that would have been very awkward, you know. And if I had really and truly meant to come, I suppose I shouldn’t have minded the rain.”

  “Well — never mind the rain now!” Uncle Robert spoke a little impatiently. “You didn’t come — and you’ve come to-day, when it’s too late to do anything — except regret what you’ve done.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t regret it at all — and I don’t intend to,” Katharine answered firmly.

  “And what do you mean to do in the future? Live with Ralston’s mother? Is that your idea?”

  “Certainly not. I want you to give Jack something to do, and we’ll live together, wherever you make him go — if it’s to Alaska.”

  “Oh — that’s it, is it? I begin to understand. I suppose Jack would think it would simplify matters very much if I gave him a hundred thousand dollars, wouldn’t he? That would be an even shorter way of giving him the means to support his family.”

  “Jack wouldn’t take money from you,” answered Katharine, quickly.

  “Wouldn’t he? If it were not such a risk, I’d try it, just to convince you. You seem to have a very exalted idea of Jack Ralston, altogether. I’ve not. Do you know anything about his life?”