Revelations of a Wife Part 15

To think that I should be the one to bring sorrow to Jack, the gentlest, kindest friend I had ever known!

"Oh, Jack, don't!" I moaned, and then, to my horror, I began to cry.

I could not control my sobs, although I covered my face with my handkerchief.

"There, there, sweetheart, I'll have you out of this in a jiffy," Jack was at my side, helping me to rise, getting me into my coat, s.h.i.+elding me from the curious gaze of the other diners.

"Here!" He threw a bill toward the waiter. "Pay my bill out of that, get us a taxi quick, and keep the change. Hurry."

"Yes, sir--thank you, sir." The waiter dashed ahead of us. As we emerged from the door he was standing proudly by the open door of a taxi.

"Where to, sir?" The chauffeur touched his cap.

"Anywhere. Central Park." Jack helped me in, sat down beside me, the door slammed and the taxi rolled away.

The only other time in my life Jack had seen me cry was when my mother died. Then I had wept my grief out on his shoulder secure in the knowledge of his brotherly love. As the taxi started, he slipped his arm around me.

"Whatever it is, dear, cry it out in my arms," he whispered.

But at his touch I shuddered, and drew myself away. I was d.i.c.ky's wife. This situation was intolerable. I must end it at once. With a mighty effort, I controlled my sobs and, wiping my eyes, sat upright.

"Dear, dear boy," I said. "Please forgive me. I never thought of this or I would have told you over the telephone."

"Told me what?" Jack's voice was harsh and quick. His arm dropped from my wrist.

There was no use wasting words in the telling. I took courage in both hands.

"I am married, Jack," I said faintly. "I have been married over a month."

"G.o.d!" The expletive seemed forced from his lips. I heard the name uttered that way once before, when a man I knew had been told of his child's death in an automobile accident. It made me realize as nothing else could what Jack must be suffering.

But he gave no other sign of having heard my words, simply sat erect, with folded arms, gazing sternly into vacancy, while the taxi rolled up Fifth avenue.

Huddled miserably in my corner, I waited for him to speak. I had summoned courage to tell him the truth, but I could not have spoken to him again while his face held that frozen look. It frightened and fascinated me at the same time.

A queer little wonder crossed my mind. Suppose I had known of this a year ago. Would I have married Jack, and never known d.i.c.ky? Would I have been happier so?

Then there rushed over me the realization that nothing in the world mattered but d.i.c.ky. I wanted him, oh how I wanted him! Jack's suffering, everything else, were but shadows. My love for my husband, my need of him--these were the only real things.

I turned to Jack wildly.

"Oh, Jack, I must go home!"

"Margaret." Jack's voice was so different from his usual one that I started almost in fear.

"Yes, Jack."

"I don't want you to reproach yourself about this. I understand, dear.

The right man came along, and of course you couldn't wait for me to come back to give my sanction."

"Oh! Jack! I ought to have waited: I know it. You have been so good to me"

"I've been good to myself, being with you," he returned tenderly. "But I almost wish you had told me over the telephone. You would never have known how I felt, and it would have been better all around"

He bent toward me, and crushed both my hands in his, looking into my face with a gaze that was in itself a caress.

"Now you must go home, little girl, back to--your--husband." The words came slowly.

"When shall I see you again, Jack?" I knew the answer even before it came.

"When you need me, dear girl, if you ever do," he replied. "I can't be near you without loving you and hating your husband, whoever he may be, and that is a dangerous state of affairs. But, wherever I am, a note or a wire to the Hotel Alfred will be forwarded to me, and, if the impossible should happen and your husband ever fail you, remember, Jack is waiting, ready to do anything for you."

My tears were falling fast now. Jack laid his hand upon my shoulder.

"Come, Margaret, you must control yourself," he said in his old brotherly voice. "I want you to tell me your new name and address. I'm never going to lose track of you, remember that. You won't see me, but your big brother will be on the job just the same."

I told him, and he wrote it carefully down in his note-book. Then he looked at me fixedly.

"You would better put your engagement and wedding rings back on," he said. "Of course I realize now that you must have taken them off when you removed your gloves in the restaurant, with the thought that you did not want to spoil my dinner by telling me of your marriage. But you must have them on when you meet your husband, you know."

How like Jack, putting aside his own suffering to be sure of my welfare. I put my hand in my m.u.f.f, drew out my mesh bag and opened it.

"Jack!" I gasped, horror-stricken, "my rings are gone!"

"Impossible!" His face was white. He s.n.a.t.c.hed my mesh bag from my grasp. "Where did you put them? In here?"

Jack turned the mesh bag inside out. A handkerchief, a small coin purse, two or three bills of small denominations, an envelope with a tiny powder puff--these were all.

"Are you sure you put them in here?"

"Yes." I could hardly articulate the word, I was so frightened.

"Have you opened your bag since?"

I thought a moment. Had I? Then a rush of remembrance came to me.

"I took out a handkerchief when I cried in the restaurant."

"You must have drawn them out then, and either dropped them there, or they may have been caught in the handkerchief and dropped in the taxi." We searched without success and Jack's face darkened as he ordered the chauffeur to speed back to Broquin's. "We must hurry, dear. This is awful. If you have lost those rings, your husband will have a right to be angry."

Neither of us spoke again until the taxi drew up in front of the restaurant. Then Jack said almost curtly:

"Wait here. I don't think it will be necessary for you to go inside, and it might be embarra.s.sing for you."

He fairly ran up the steps and disappeared inside the door.

So anxious was I to know what would be the result of his inquiry that I leaned far forward in the machine, watching the door of Broquin's for Jack's return.

I did not realize my imprudence in doing this until I heard my name called jovially.