To Love and to Honour

by Emilie Loring

  “I guess he started wrong. Always had his own way. Couldn’t adjust himself to marriage. Never reached emotional maturity, I heard that over the radio. Not about him, but a speaker said that what this country needs most is for folks to grow up, quit throwin’ fits of temper or sulkin' if things don’t please ’em. Then he went on to say, many of them who think they’re men an’ women are in the diaper or schoolboy stage mentally and emotionally.”

  “Miss Parker, I didn’t know you ever listened to anything like that.”

  “You never can tell when a seed will drop into someone’s mind and sprout. Maybe I’m growin’ up, too. I wish you’d eat something more, Cindy. But, perhaps you’ll have supper where you’re goin’ dancing.”

  “I’m not going dancing, Sary.” She rose. She could battle better on her feet. “I’ve planned to meet friends at the Inn for cards.”

  “Cinderella Clinton, do you mean you’re turnin’ down Colonel Stewart?”

  “My, but you’re a quick thinker, Sary.” She picked up a long white coat from a chair. “I’m going in my car —”

  “In that old jalopy? Call that a car? What shall I say to Colonel Stewart when he comes?”

  “Oh, tell him I had a previous engagement.”

  “Just like that. I will. I guess ’twon’t trouble him none, not with Ally Barclay round to take out. I hope the car breaks down an’ leaves you in a wilderness a hundred miles from home, Cinderella Clinton.” The screen door banged behind her.

  Twenty minutes later, ten of which had been spent trying to revive an expired motor, Cindy regarded the decrepit jalopy beside the road. She would have to abandon it. Better stop at the next house and phone the garage to come and drag it home. Then what? Sary would tell Ken Stewart she had gone to the Inn. He would drive there for her. He had said they would go dancing and he was not one to give up easily.

  She didn’t want to hear his explanation of why he had come here under another name, had let the annulment go through, she. thought as she trudged toward home in high heeled blue slippers that had not been designed for walking a country road. No doubt but he would bring up the subject. She couldn’t bear it. She might betray the fact that she loved him. Then he’d feel sorry for her. Why did she have to love a man who didn't want her? Why long to have his arms about her? That last was sheer sentimentality. How did she know she wanted his arms about her? They never had been, had they?

  She had made it. Curled up in the chaise in a dusky comer of the patio she glanced at the illuminated dial of her jeweled watch. Not quite eight. She wriggled off her slippers. That walk had finished them — and almost her feet. Dark as Erebus here. The night was so still she could hear every sound. Crickets had deserted the garden. The light breeze was salted with the smell of the sea.

  A car stopping. Ken’s? Sary would tell him she had gone to the Inn and he would follow. Would he? Why be so sure, with Ally Barclay in the offing? Numberless men had married women years older, and been happy, hadn’t they? The front door opening. Closing. He had gone. That ended that. He wouldn’t forgive her for side-stepping the date. He wouldn’t come back. Now she would steal upstairs. The screen door was opening. She swung her feet up to the chaise. Ken Stewart was silhouetted against the light in the hall.

  “I won’t go to the Inn, Sary. I saw her car abandoned beside the road. I have a feeling she will trek back to The Castle, if she doesn’t I’ll go after her. Meanwhile I’ll wait here.” The door closed.

  Now that her eyes were accustomed to the dusk she could see him — he was wearing a dark suit tonight. He stood at the edge of the patio looking out at the garden, whistling softly, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.”

  Miss Clinton, you’re in a fix, she told herself. Better come out of hiding boldly and laugh it off —

  Something dropped into her lap. Something big and black and satin-smooth. Something else with a bushy tail that struggled.

  "Darius! No! No! Drop that —” She leaped to her feet, ran to the man standing as if turned to stone. Clutched his shoulders with both hands.

  “Ken! Ken!” She drew a long sobbing breath. He held her close.

  “What frightened you, Cindy?”

  “Darius! Landed in my lap with a big fat squirrel.” She shuddered. “Sary said they are f-fierce —”

  "They’ve gone. In different directions, darling. You frightened the daylights out of them. I’ve heard that a black cat brings luck. Now I know it. It sent you into my arms to save you from wild beasts. Stay where you are.” He drew her back. “You can’t go now. This is the third rescue. Remember I warned you. Now I’ll keep you.” He lifted her chin. Bent his face to hers.

  “That kiss has been building up since the first impact of your eyes on mine,” he declared unsteadily.

  “It — it was so long I — I can believe it,” she whispered with an attempt at gaiety. Head against his shoulder she looked up. Voice and eyes were grave.

  “Then why —”

  “Come in where I can see you.”

  There was no sign of Sarah as they went through the hall, but from the floor above came a man’s voice singing:

  “Once you have found her never let her go.”

  He laughed.

  “Sary, her phonograph plus her sense of the dramatic. I don’t need to be reminded not to let you go.”

  He followed her into the old kitchen, glowing with yellow and copper in the lamplight. Closed the door and shut out the music. She backed against the desk. He crossed his arms on top of the high back of the wing chair. The laughing brilliance of his eyes sent her lashes down.

  “You needn’t be afraid of me, Cinderella. The next time I kiss you I’ll post a notice — I take back that rash promise. I know I can’t keep it. When I phoned this afternoon, Sary said that Tom Slade was with you.”

  “He came to say good-by.”

  “A grand person. He sent me a memento of the summer.”

  “Funny thing for him to do, wasn’t it?” She seized the chance to steady her throbbing pulses by getting away from the subject of themselves. “You weren’t special friends, were you? Would I be out of order if I asked what it was?”

  “A red satin slipper. He knew I had the mate. Said he thought they should be together. A statement with which I am in one hundred per cent agreement. Ten days from now I am due in Washington to receive a citation —”

  “A citation. Wonderful, but aren’t you coming back?”

  “That depends on you. Will you go with me as my wife?”

  “Ken, do you want me? Then why —”

  “Come here. I can’t talk when you’re so far away.” He caught her in one arm. “We’ll have the rest of our lives for explanations, Cindy. There was no woman in my life before you —” he laughed and kissed her swiftly — “except that glacial Mrs. Kenniston Stewart who conducted my business so expertly. I loved you from the moment we met at Ella Crane’s. Believe me?”

  “Yes. Because I felt the same way, though I didn’t know it for a long time after.”

  “You’re so sweet and warm and alive, Cindy. Ready to hear my plan?”

  “Ready? I’m on my toes with excitement.”

  “Here goes. We’ll be married in the church here — we’ll have to allow five days after we get the license-motor to Washington — as you suggested, it’s a gorgeous time of year. We might stop on the way and book reservations for the interplanetary trip —” His laugh was buoyant, young — “Then return to The Castle where I’ll finish my book, after which we’ll settle where my work is to be and begin the real business of living. Does that appeal to you?”

  “Sounds ideal. We’ll have to consult Sary.”

  “Sarah Ann Parker has assured me that she can have the most luscious wedding cake ready in time.”

  “Then she knows —”

  “That I love you? Who doesn’t? Do you — now?”

  “I’m beginning to get the idea, Colonel.”

  “That’s progress.” He held out his right hand. In the palm sparkle
d a diamond circlet. “I would like to put this wedding ring on your finger myself,” he said gravely. “Do you dislike it too much?”

  “Dislike it? Where did you get that strange idea? I love it. I wouldn’t want any other.”

  “That does it. I have another ring for you. Remember I said I brought you a present from Washington? I quote, ‘It’s big, sensational, choice.’ I’ll give it to you on the way to the license bureau.”

  “Are we going there — tonight?”

  “We haven’t too much time. I bribed the license clerk to wait for us until ten. Where’s your coat?”

  “In the patio. My slippers are there. I kicked them off.”

  “You don’t need them.” He brought a pair of red satin slippers from a side table. “I left these when I came in. Sit in the wing chair.” Before her on one knee he put them on. He held one satin-shod foot tight in his hand.

  “Do they fit? Has the right Prince found your slipper, Cinderella?”

  His unsteady voice, his demanding eyes drew her like a magnet. She nodded. Leaned forward. Her lips were soft and warm and clinging as she kissed him.

  “A perfect fit. And the right Prince for all the rest of my life, Your Highness.”

  He swept her to her feet and into his arms. Pressed his face against her hair.

  “Cindy, Cindy. Cindy. That’s telling me.” He cleared his voice,

  “Remember, you didn’t like that guy Stewart? Think you’ll be happy taking his name again, Mrs. Kenniston Stewart?”

  “Again? What do you mean by again?” Her tender eyes were alight with laughter as they met his. “Want to know something? Deep in my heart I never gave it up.”

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