The Betrayal of John Fordham. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Milk for women, wine for men."

      He was getting intoxicated, and began to troll out a song about wine and women. I strove to quiet him, but he went on laughing hilariously. Excited and enraged, I quickly emptied my glass, and was about to drink again, when Barbara laid her hand upon my arm. I put the full glass upon the table, at which Maxwell, who had been observing us, laughed louder still.

      "Maxwell!" cried Barbara, angrily.

      "Barbara!" cried Maxwell, with his bold eyes upon her. "Well, my lady?"

      They looked strangely at one another, and it was Barbara who first lowered her eyes. There was something threatening in Maxwell's glance, and she seemed to be frightened of him. I was not sorry, for I accepted it as an indication that she would side with me in my desire not to court his society when we returned from our honeymoon trip. We were to start for the Continent in the evening, and there were still two or three hours before us. To pass this interval of time in Maxwell's company was not a pleasant prospect, but I scarcely knew how to avoid it. He evinced no disposition to leave Barbara and me together, and I felt awkward and out of place, and really as if it was I who was intruding. The house was his, and in a certain sense we were his guests. A bright idea occurred to me. I proposed that Barbara should dress for our journey, and that we should go and lunch at an hotel. Barbara, however, said she could not eat, and Maxwell cried boisterously:

      "What are you thinking of, brother-in-law? A newborn bride sitting down to eat at an hotel on her wedding day. She would sink to the ground in shame, wouldn't she, Barbara? But I accept your invitation with pleasure, my boy. I am famished, and you must be. I insist upon you fortifying yourself; it is a duty you owe to Barbara and to society at large. With what is before you, it is absolutely necessary that you should keep up your strength. Take my word for it; I'm an older bird than you. Let us go. Barbara will nibble a biscuit, or make a meal off a butterfly's wing, if she can catch one."

      I turned to Barbara, and she whispered that it would be best. She was tired and would lie down while we were away. I saw that she was weary, and disgusted with her brother's behavior, so to save her from further annoyance, I consented to go with Maxwell.

      "I don't like to leave you for a moment, darling," I said, "but I must get him away. I shall be back in good time; be sure you are ready."

      I said this smilingly, as if I referred to woman's proverbial failing in seldom being ready at an appointed time when she has to dress for a journey or a dinner, or anything, in fact.

      She did not return smile for smile. In a weak, helpless way she clung to me for a moment, and then abruptly left the room.

      "Oh, turtle doves, turtle doves!" exclaimed Maxwell, hooking his arm in mine, as we walked along. "Oh, golden day, with love's fetters binding one fast! Auspicious epoch in a man's career when he is strung up for life! Love, honor, and obey, and all that sort of thing. Connubial bliss, Darby and Joan, till death doth us part. Not for me, my boy, not for me; but every man to his taste. Fol-de-riddle! Chorus of infatuated bridegrooms – fol-de-riddle, fol-de-riddle!"

      "Hold your tongue," I said, between my teeth, "or I'll not stay with you another moment."

      "Right you are, my sensitive plant," he returned. "I'm mum as the inside of a screwed down coffin."

      But he continued to sing softly to himself, and to chuckle as he cast furtive glances at me. In such circumstances it was not likely that I could enjoy my meal, and I sat for the most part doing nothing, while Maxwell disposed of the various courses he ordered. Drinking did not affect his appetite, and he would have kept at the table all the day had I not called for the bill.

      "Time to go, eh? Love's call must be obeyed," he said, rising, and pouring out the last glass of wine in the bottle. With his left hand on the table he steadied himself, and held up the glass.

      "You're not half a bad sort, John, but you're a bit soft. You want hardening, my boy, and you'll get it."

      "What do you mean?" I asked.

      "What do I mean? Why, that Barbara's all your own now, all your own. Well, here's a happy honeymoon to the fond couple." He drained the glass.

      I hardly knew how to take his words, and I did not answer him. On our way back he borrowed twenty pounds of me, and I determined it should be the last he would ever get from me. I was strongly inclined at first to refuse, but I was afraid he would make a scene, and so for Barbara's sake I gave him the money.

      "Thank you, John," he said, pocketing the notes. "You're a trump, but a trifle green. Here we are at the house. What a jolly wedding-day!"

      I could have struck the mocking devil in the face, for by this time I was thoroughly out of temper; but, again for dear Barbara's sake, I refrained from uttering the hot words that rose to my lips.

      The carriage was at the door and my wife was ready. Maxwell opened his arms for a parting embrace, but Barbara slipped from him and entered the carriage. As it moved away I caught a last glimpse of him standing on the doorstep laughing immoderately, and I almost fancied I heard him call after us, "What a jolly wedding day!"

      CHAPTER IV

      The next day we were in Paris. We had a miserable crossing and two miserable railway journeys. On neither of the lines could I get a compartment to ourselves, both the French and English trains being crowded to excess. On the steamboat Barbara was very ill, and I gave her into the charge of the stewardess, being too unwell myself to attend to her. We were not, as may be imagined, a very cheerful couple, nor was this a cheerful commencement of our honeymoon. I did my best, however, to keep up Barbara's spirits, but she continued to be sad and despondent, and did not rally till we reached the gay city. The bright sunshine and the animation of the streets did wonders for us. I held her hand in mine as we drove to the hotel in which I had engaged rooms, and life assumed a joyful aspect. The color came again to Barbara's cheeks, the sparkle to her eyes.

      "The worst is over, dearest," I said, "and we are together – and alone."

      She pressed my hand fondly.

      Was I really in love? I cannot answer. The fire of youth was in my veins, the light of hope was in my heart. Call it what you will – love, passion, desire – Barbara was all in all to me, and our fond endearments caused the hours to fly at lightning speed. The embarrassments and mortifications of yesterday were forgotten; to-day was ours, to enjoy. We dined at the hotel, by Barbara's plate a caraffe of iced water, by mine a bottle of old Burgundy. At nine o'clock, knowing that Barbara had some unpacking to do – for it was my intention to remain in Paris a week – I said that I would take a stroll in the streets, and would return at ten.

      "It will take me quite two hours," she said, with a trembling eagerness in her voice, "to get my boxes in order."

      "I will return at eleven," I said gaily, kissing her.

      I strolled through the brilliantly lighted streets in a dream of delight. There was no Maxwell near to disturb me with his mocking laughter. Barbara was her bright self again, and she and I were "man and wife."

      "Man and wife," I murmured. "Nothing can come between us now, nothing can separate us. She is mine forever. I am really a married man."

      I saw in the window of a jeweler's shop a brooch with two hearts entwined. It was emblematical of Barbara's heart and mine, and I went in and purchased it, and purchased also at a florist's a bouquet of the loveliest flowers. It was now ten o'clock, and I had still an hour to myself. A long time to carry a large bouquet of flowers amidst a throng of people, but what cared I? Why should I hide my happiness? Was I not proud of my beautiful Barbara, whose pure and innocent heart I had won, and СКАЧАТЬ