A Mummer's Wife Part 35

'That's what I want to know. I never saw anything like it in my life. We were speaking of being married, when suddenly Kate accused me of insulting her religion, and then--well, I don't remember any more. She fell into such a pa.s.sion--you saw it yourself.'

'Did you say you wouldn't marry her?'

'No, on the contrary. I can't make it out. For the last month her caprices, fancies, and jealousies have been something awful!'

Montgomery made a movement as if he were going to reply, but checking himself, he remained silent. His face then a.s.sumed the settled appearance of one who is inwardly examining the different sides of a complex question.

At last he said:

'Let's come out for a walk, d.i.c.k, and we'll talk the matter over.'

'Do you think I can leave her?'

'It's the best thing you can do. Leave her to have her cry out,' and adopting the suggestion, d.i.c.k picked up his hat, and without further words the men went out of the house, walking slowly arm in arm.

'I cannot understand what is the matter with Kate. When I knew her first she hadn't a bad temper.'

To this Montgomery made no answer. He was thinking.

After a pause d.i.c.k continued, as if speaking to himself:

'And the way she does badger me with her confounded jealousies; I'm afraid now to tell a girl to move up higher on the stage. There are explanations about everything, and I can't think what it's all about. She has everything she requires. She hasn't been a year on the stage, and she's playing leading parts, and scoring successes too.'

'Perhaps she has reasons you don't know of.'

'Reasons I don't know of? What do you mean?'

'Well, you haven't told me yet what the row was about.'

'Tell you! That's just what I want to know myself.'

'What were you speaking about when it began?' asked Montgomery, who was still feeling his way.

'About our marriage.'

'Well, what did you say?'

'What did I say? I really don't remember; the row has put it all out of my head. Let me think. I was saying--I mean she was asking me when we should be married.'

'And what did you say to that? Did you fix a day?'

'Fix a day!' said d.i.c.k, looking in astonishment at his friend. 'How could I fix a day?'

'I think if I loved a woman and she loved me I could manage somehow to fix a day.'

These words were spoken with an earnestness that attracted d.i.c.k's attention, and he looked inquiringly at the young man.

'So you think I ought to marry her?'

'Think you ought to marry her?' exclaimed Montgomery indignantly; 'really, d.i.c.k, I didn't think you were--Just remember what she's given up for you.

You owe it to her. Good heavens!'

'Well, you needn't get into a pa.s.sion; I've had enough of pa.s.sions for one day.'

The impetuousness of the youth had struck through the fat nonchalance of the man, and he said after a pause:

'Yes, I suppose I do owe it to her.'

The apologetic, easy-going air with which this phrase was spoken maddened Montgomery; he could have struck his friend full in the face, but for the sake of the woman he was obliged to keep his temper.

'Putting aside the question of what you owe and what you don't owe, I'd like to ask you where you could find a nicer wife? She's the prettiest woman in the company, she's making now five pounds a week, and she loves you as well as ever a woman loved a man. I should like to know what more you want.'

This was very agreeable to hear, and after a moment's reflection d.i.c.k said:

'That's quite true, my boy, and I like her better than any other woman. I don't think I could get anything better. If it weren't for that infernal jealousy of hers. Really, her temper is no joke.'

'Her temper is all right; she was as quiet as a mouse when you knew her first. Take my word for it, there are excellent reasons for her being a bit put out.'

'What do you mean?'

'Can't you guess?'

The two men stopped and looked each other full in the face, and then resuming his walk, Montgomery said:

'Yes, it's so; she told me in the train coming up from Leamington.'

Tears glittered in d.i.c.k's eyes, and he became in that moment all pity, kindness, and good-nature.

'Oh, the poor dear! Why didn't she tell me that before? And I'd scolded her for ill-temper.'

His humanity was as large as his fat, and although he had never thought of the joys of paternity, now, in the warmth of his sentiments, he melted into one feeling of rapture. After a pause, he said:

'I think I'd better go back and see her.'

'Yes, I think you'd better; fix a day for your marriage.'

'Of course.'

Nothing further was said; each absorbed in different thoughts the two men retraced their steps, and when they arrived at the door, Montgomery said:

'I think I'd better wish you good-bye.'

'No, come in, old man; she'd like to see you.'

And as if anxious to torture himself to the last, Montgomery entered. Kate was still locked in the bedroom, but there was such an unmistakable accent of trepidation and anxiety in d.i.c.k's fingers and voice that she opened immediately. Her beautiful black hair was undone, and fell in rich ma.s.ses about her. d.i.c.k took her in his arms, and held her sobbing on his shoulder.

All he could say was, 'Oh, my darling, I'm so sorry; you will forgive me, won't you?'