Revelations of a Wife Part 62

she said, with her old smooth insolence. "But this girl here"--she indicated Katherine--"took care of me before she knew who I was. She just about saved my life and reason, too, when there was n.o.body else to care a whit whether I lived or died. Even my sister's gone back on me. So when I saw how much it meant to her to find out the truth about your precious husband, I promised her I'd come and tell you the little I knew."

She drew a long breath, and went on.

"In the first place, I didn't go to San Francisco with d.i.c.ky Graham, although I'm glad if my little trick made you think so for awhile. I didn't go anywhere with him except into a cafe for a few minutes, the day he left New York. It was just after he got back from Marvin, and he was pouring drinks into himself so fast that he was pretty hazy about what had happened, but I made a pretty shrewd guess as to his trouble."

She turned to me, and I saw with amazement that contempt for me was written on her face.

"You!" she snarled, "with your innocent face, and your high and mighty airs, you must have been up to something pretty disgraceful, to have your husband feel the way he did that day he started for San Francisco! He had to go out to Marvin unexpectedly that morning, almost as soon as he had arrived in the city. What or who he found there, you know best."

"Stop!" said Lillian authoritatively, and for a long minute the two women faced each other, Grace Draper defiant, Lillian, with all the compelling, almost hypnotic power that is hers when she chooses to exercise it.

The accusation which the girl had hurled at me stunned me as effectually as an actual missile from her hand would have done. What did she mean? And then, before my dazed brain could work itself back through the mazes of memory, there came the whir of a taxi in the street, an imperative ring of the bell, a tramp of masculine footsteps in the hall, and then--my husband's arms were around me, his lips murmuring disjointed, incoherent sentences against my cheek.

"Madge! Madge! little sweetheart!--no right to ask forgiveness--deserve to lose you forever for my doubt of you--been through a thousand h.e.l.ls since I left--"

Over d.i.c.ky's shoulder I saw Jack's dear face smiling tenderly, triumphantly, at me, realized that he must have started after d.i.c.ky as soon as he had heard my story of my husband's inexplicable departure--and the light for which I had been groping suddenly illuminated Grace Draper's words.

"So you saw my father embrace me that day!" I exclaimed, and at the words the face of the girl who had caused me so much suffering grew whiter, if possible, and she sank into a chair, as if unable to stand.

"Yes." A wave of shamed color swept my husband's face, his words were low and hurried. "But you must believe this one thing,--I had made up my mind to come back and beg your forgiveness, indeed, I was just ready to start for New York, when your cousin found me and brought me the true explanation of things.

"I--I--couldn't stand it any longer without you, Madge. I must have been mad to go away like that. You won't shut me out altogether, will you, sweetheart?"

I had thought that if d.i.c.ky ever came back me I should make him suffer a little of what he had compelled me to endure. But, as I looked from the white, drawn face of the girl, who I was sure still counted d.i.c.ky's love as a stake for which no wager was too high, to the anxious faces of the dear friends who had helped to bring him back to me, I could do nothing but yield myself rapturously to the clasp of my husband's arms.

"I couldn't have stood it much longer without you, d.i.c.ky," I whispered, and then, forgetting everything else in the world but our happiness, my husband's lips met mine in a long kiss of reconciliation.

A half choked little cry startled me, and I saw Grace Draper get to her feet unsteadily and start for the door, with her hands outstretched gropingly before her, almost as if she were blind.

Katherine Sonnot hurried to her, and then Jack spoke to me for the first time since he had brought d.i.c.ky into the room.

"Good-by, Margaret, until I see you again," he said hurriedly.

"Good-by, d.i.c.ky, I must go to Katherine."

"Good-by, old chap," d.i.c.ky returned heartily, and in his tone I read the blessed knowledge that my cherished dream had come true, that my husband and my brother-cousin were friends at last. And from the look upon Jack's face as his eyes met Katharine's, I knew that he, too, had found happiness.

I saw the trio go out of the room, the girl who had wronged me, and the friends who had helped me. Then my eyes turned to the truest, most loyal friend of all, Lillian, who stood near us, frankly weeping with joy. I put out my hand to her, and drew her also into d.i.c.ky's embrace.

How long a cry it had been since the days when I was wildly jealous of her old friends.h.i.+p with d.i.c.ky!

"Will you come away with me for a new honeymoon, sweetheart?" d.i.c.ky asked, tenderly, after awhile, when Lillian had softly slipped away and left us alone together.

Into my brain there flashed a sudden picture of the homely living room in the Brennan house at Marvin, with the leaping fire, which I knew Jim would have for us whenever we came, with Katie's impetuous welcome. I turned to d.i.c.ky with a pa.s.sionate little plea.

"Oh! d.i.c.ky," I said earnestly, "take me home."