Cupid's Middleman Part 19

"Never mind. He's my husband. When I want some one to interfere, I'll go to a lawyer, who's in that business. I won't peddle my troubles to strangers. If you haven't any more sense than to interfere in our affairs, you must be crazy now, and if I were you I wouldn't worry about getting crazy."

Mrs. Dewey pa.s.sed out and slammed the door.

I wanted to go right down and jump off the dock when this counter-irritant blistered me and her tonic bitters were poured into my lethargic circulation. Stimulation brought a reaction of brighter views, however. Mrs. Dewey's old-fas.h.i.+oned drubbing held the mirror so that I could behold a life-sized burro every time I looked into it. There never can be any use for a middleman, before or after the marriage contract, thought I. Shame took the place of conceit; my pride was humbled and fear was swept away. I mended with amazing rapidity under the earnest eloquence of that short sermon, delivered by a woman with a broom.

CHAPTER XVIII

Four of the happiest weeks of their lives, Gabrielle and Jim spent with the Gibsons in their Produce Exchange tower, far out of the way of enemies, if any there might be in pursuit. Gabrielle had confided in Mrs. Gibson, and was urged by her to bring Jim there to convalesce, as the doctor said he ought not to walk much for two or three months. The lovers were delighted to transfer their trysting place to those romantic quarters--a castle tower in the heart of New York, surrounded by a harbor moat, and an elevator which served well the purpose of a bridge leading to the portcullis of the upper floors. Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, and their daughter, the winsome Nellie, were delighted to have them as visitors, and entered into their defense against the cruel father and his co-conspirators, the faithless chum and the unfeeling world in general, with hearty warmth, cheering Gabrielle and filling the soul of Jim with heavenly contentment. There he had met his darling and the spot would be sacred to him always; it was doubly blessed when her sweet voice sounded near him within its walls, and her tender glances drew fond response from his eyes. On the floors below they sold grain and bulletined the price of tallow at "five and one-half cents for city"; but in the far-away tower the din of the wheat pit was not heard. From the round windows the s.h.i.+ps of commerce appeared to ride the tide care-free as the darting gulls that dived for their prey or swung on resting wings in broad circles from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. Dreams fairer than those lovers pictured in quiet ecstasy have never been outlined by brush or melodious line. Just a little cube of heaven had been caught from the realms of bliss, and they dwelt together there for four weeks.

Now, four weeks in heaven is a very brief period. Whole eternities pa.s.s there in what seems to be an interval too brief to record on Cupid's chronometer. Joy in my lady's tower, traveling with swift, winged feet, marks not the hour like Terror in the castle dungeon, where the outcast prisoner lies upon the damp stones writhing in feverish despair. While they were up in heaven together, I was down in--the hospital or at Mrs.

Dewey's. Mr. and Mrs. Tescheron were at home in Ninety-sixth Street.

The bill of folly had been paid and Mr. Tescheron hoped the episode had closed, although Gabrielle's manner continued to indicate that she had not suffered so deeply as the strength of her attachment to the outlaw had led him to believe she would. What was the secret? He did not ask her, for having paid nearly $5,000 (more, but he didn't know it), working along his own lines, he did not care to admit that his daughter had outgeneraled him. A premonition that she had done so prepared him in moments of reflection to hear the truth. He fought against the concept every time it flashed before him, but with weakening strength, as the outcla.s.sed fighter staggers groggily to the ropes. What match was he, what adversary I, for Cupid, lacking the inspiration the G.o.d gave to his faithful adherents? If you ask me why I am so familiar with Mr.

Tescheron's fears and numerous other matters recorded here, I make reply that I have investigated all the sources of information in any way connected with these events, and have drawn out the persons who were involved in Hosley's career by many conversations. If this statement does not satisfy, then I have one that will. I quote that great authority, William Makepeace Thackeray, who tells us in Vanity Fair that a novelist is supposed to know everything, and am I not treating the subject as a novelist, using for the most part fict.i.tious names and places to s.h.i.+eld from public ridicule the good people whose judgment may seem weak, and actions exaggerated, in the temperature of cold type scanned by prudent, judicial-minded readers? Icebergs will boil under certain conditions. Human beings, I find, have their solid, liquid and gaseous states. Be not surprised, therefore, if Tescheron, frigid when surrounded by his cracked ice and cold-storage products at the fish market, becomes pliable or volatile material in Hoboken under the heat of fear and temper, and, before cooling, is wrought into strange shapes by the artisan, Smith. Poor Tescheron! Innocently I made him pay a pretty penny! But he needed a good hammering.

"Gabrielle, are you really to be married against your father's wishes, my dear?" asked Mrs. Gibson, sadly, drawing Gabrielle to her. "Could we not win him over to our view of Jim? Should we not try?"

Mrs. Gibson, Gabrielle, Nellie and Jim were in the large tower sitting-room at the time of this questioning. "No, Mrs. Gibson"; and Gabrielle was most serious as she spoke. "My father will in time come to admire Jim as you do; I know father so well. Mother and I understand him. He jumps at conclusions regarding people for whom he has a dislike, and time and again has acknowledged to me how he regretted his haste. In good time father will ask my forgiveness. Not before the wedding, though, I fear; but I hope on. It is my intention to proceed, with mother's approval."

"Almost an elopement," laughed Nellie, ready for a wedding as eagerly as an opposed bride.

"Not quite, though, for mother will be there," smiled Gabrielle.

"I'll be there without these crutches," said Jim, dropping his supports to the floor, while he made an effort to stump across the room and demonstrate that he could creep to the tune of a wedding march.

"You'll do, Jim," said Nellie, as she took him by the arm to support him, and aired the Lohengrin selection. "You are just speedy enough to-day. In three weeks you will be able to run."

"Only three weeks off!" exclaimed Mrs. Gibson. "How the time pa.s.ses! We must hurry. Nellie, go at once to the dressmaker's and get her positive a.s.surance that our gowns will be ready. And you, too, have so much to do, Gabrielle."

"The more time the more there is to do always," said Gabrielle. "A bride is never quite ready, but in three weeks I am sure I shall be, if I am not disappointed by all the people I have engaged to help me. But let us think no more of our worries. You have not told me what impression those two gowns made that came last night. Didn't you see them? Let me show them to you."

Gabrielle brought out the gowns, and the critics went into tucks, tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, opalescent spangles, Malines lace, China-ribbed embroidery and many other bewildering technicalities. One of the dresses was all white, fas.h.i.+oned out of net, and was ribbon-sashed, girdled, looped, s.h.i.+rred, tucked, tuck-s.h.i.+rred, s.h.i.+rr-tucked, fulled, grilled, padded, scrolled, rolled, appliqued, ta.s.seled, rosetted, knotted, banded, edged, picot-edged, ruffled, plaited, bowed, buckled, buckle-bowed, yoked and choked with ribbon. It was a pretty gown, and a hat and m.u.f.f built on the same style went with it. The hat was to be held in place by long streamer ribbons--I think eighteen inches wide--tied in a bow to be knotted over the left ear, and ramify from the chin-dimple to the crest of the hair-wave. Eiderdown, lightly packed in a hollow cylinder about the size of a pint preserving jar, covered with ten-inch frills of chiffon, pieced out with ribbon, wadded neglige, were points that made the m.u.f.f more dainty than warm. The combination was designed to be worn without the m.u.f.f on an ocean boardwalk about sunset, when the wind dies down. Cosy comfort was to be supplied by the m.u.f.f on a windy day, for only a real mermaid could wear a plain fish net in all kinds of weather.

"It's a most stunning affair!" exclaimed Nellie, admiring with close scrutiny all the fine points in the s.h.i.+rring, hemst.i.tching and accordeon plaiting.

"Very airy, but pretty," was Mrs. Gibson's view. "What is it to be worn over? Oh, I see; this beautiful soft white taffeta. Well, Gabrielle, you will look a bride with that gown, I am sure."

"That is one of the fine things I have gained by delay. If we had been married five weeks ago, I would not have thought of this gem." And the girls laughed, while Jim looked on in surprised delight. The details of dressmaking he was not competent to discuss.

"Why does it take so many clothes to get married?" asked Jim, evidently not understanding that every event in a woman's life is a peg for more clothes.

"What a strange question! How foolish, Jim!" exclaimed the women.

"Don't you know that a wedding is a ceremonial affair, where all the grand formalities must be observed?" asked Nellie. "You wouldn't have us scuffle through it in old shoes and walking skirts, would you?"

"Jim's notion of getting married," said Gabrielle, "is extremely primitive. For my part, I like nice things. I'm so sorry they do not appeal to Jim." Gabrielle feigned disappointment.

"I should say they did appeal to me," Jim hastily a.s.sured the critics.

"They are so surprising!"

"Surprising! How so?" asked Nellie.

"Like a sunrise, I suppose," answered Jim. "I've never seen many, but those who have rave over them. What a pity the styles change so often!

Next year the net in that dress will all have to be taken off and put in place of the bead tr.i.m.m.i.n.g on the lamp shades; the bead tr.i.m.m.i.n.g must then be sent to Staten Island and dyed green to make it proper for hat ornamentation, a necklace or--"

"Amber is the proper color for a necklace," laughed Mrs. Gibson. "Nellie cut her teeth on amber beads."

Then they all laughed, and Jim saw that it was good policy to admire without attempting to suggest reforms.

"And this silk gauze affair, what is this?" asked Nellie. "My! it is so light you could mail it for a cent."

"That is just a cobweb I fancied," said Gabrielle, proudly, as she gently shook out the folds of a light creation. "How beautifully it fits and yet it affords such freedom!"

"It's an Empire modification," remarked Nellie, who discerned the basic neck-waisted feature of the cobweb's architecture. "Lovely short sleeves--"

"Bad for mosquitoes," said Jim.

"Hus.h.!.+" admonished Gabrielle. "We can't restrict art to such limitations."

"If it really is a cobweb, the mosquitoes won't go near it," said Jim.

"Perhaps the designer had that in mind when he cut down the sleeves."

"What a heavy lace insertion--Valenciennes, a good part of it, isn't it, Gabrielle?" asked Mrs. Gibson. "Why, it's simply beyond words, I think."

"Three deep embroidered flounces, and such frills and frills of lace!

My! It's grand!" So Nellie believed and declared.

Jim's imagination was not fired. "I hope I never step on it," he said.

"Don't you dare!" commanded Nellie. "This cobweb is meant to catch the eye only--not a whole man."

While Jim was laughing and attempting to thrust his opinions still farther upon the critics, they restored the art treasures to the boxes and placed them in the store-room, where the bride's purchases were gathering day by day as they arrived from the shopping district.

Fortunately, the tower was larger than it appears from Broadway, or it would not have held all the packages and allowed the Gibsons room to live.

Nellie had forgotten the dressmaker, but now started, and Mrs. Gibson resumed her household duties in another room.

"Gabrielle, you are making altogether too much preparation," said Jim.

"You have undertaken too much. With your regular duties I can see that it is wearing on you. Could you not be satisfied with less shopping and less dressmaking?"

"No, Jim, it is not this preparation that burdens me," she replied, seating herself at the side of her lame hero.

"Tell me what it is, then--is it that miserable fancied conspiracy against me? I thought your father had forgotten that now."

"He believes that you are gone, and yet I can see that he knows what I am about to do; at least I fear so. Mother may have told him, for I have confided in her everything but telling her where you are. Naturally, Jim, I feel sad not to have my father's support in this matter. But we shall have his good-will later on, I am sure. In the meantime I am made unhappy by his present att.i.tude--how can I help it? I know he is wrong--"

"Gabrielle, you have firmly refused to tell me just what it is your father has against me. Time and again I have asked, but I cannot learn, and of course I cannot imagine what his flight to Hoboken was for. He charges me with some crime--but in heaven's name, what crime? Come, Gabrielle, do tell me now, won't you?"