The Flower Brides (10 page)

But the woman who occupied the apartment across the hall and was kind enough to answer their telephone had nothing to report, and Mrs. Brooke, with a relieved sigh, saw that Marigold set her lips in a determinedly pleasant smile and went straight to the business of unpacking their purchases and talking about the details of their trip, giving herself no chance for sadness. Brave little girl!

There was the hem to sew, and Marigold insisted on doing it herself, making her mother rest awhile. After the dress had been tried on again and pressed and pronounced perfect, Marigold insisted on getting all the little things together that they would need and partly packing them. It was after eleven o’clock when they finally got to bed. The whole evening had gone by and still no word from Laurie. Mrs. Brooke kept longing in her heart that they might get away entirely without it. If Laurie would only keep away and Marigold could have this outing without him, who knew how her eyes might be opened to see that he was not the only friend the world contained. But she dared not pray insistently for things to come out as she desired. She wanted only her child’s happiness, and how was she to know which of all the possibilities was really in God’s plan for her dear one? So she prayed quietly in her heart as she lay in her bed in the darkness,
Oh, Father, have Thine own way with my child! Don’t let her make any terrible mistakes. Bring about Thy will in her life
.

But Marigold lay staring into the darkness and thinking of Laurie, her face burning now and again as she realized how much she had taken for granted in Laurie’s friendship and how little he had really done to actually commit himself.

And then her cheeks burned again at the thought of how she had been led along, and led along, to surrender this and that standard and opinion and yield to every whim of Laurie’s. There were not so many of these, perhaps, but in the darkness amid her heart searching, desperately facing her problems, they loomed large with her conscience, her young trained conscience that used to be so tender and so sharp before she ever met Laurie.

Dear God
, she prayed suddenly, her hands clasped tensely, her young heart beating wildly,
if You’ll only let Laurie be
real,
if You’ll only let him come back and be what I thought he was, I’ll never go into another nightclub with him, never, as long as I live. I promise You!

Then all at once it was as if God stood there and she realized what she had been doing, offering that small concession as bait to the great God to do something for her, even if it meant changing His plan for her life and Laurie’s. Oh, that was a dreadful thing to do!
Please, God, forgive me! Forgive me! I ought not to have prayed that way. Oh, I’m all wrong! Please help me! I’m so unhappy!

She soon fell into an uneasy slumber that ended in that horrid dream of the high ledge again, and she woke in great distress, crying out for fear of falling down, down into space.

“Why, what is the matter, dear child!” said her mother bending over her. “Are you in pain?”

She stared wildly at her mother, standing there in the dimness of the room. Then she tried to shake off the reality of that dream and laugh.

“I—must have had a nightmare!” she explained, rubbing her eyes. “I guess it was that piece of mince pie I didn’t eat at the tearoom,” she giggled. “I’m all right now, Mother, get back to bed. You’ll catch cold! You haven’t your robe on!” She sprang up and, taking hold of her mother’s shoulders, led her back to bed, laughingly tucking her in, kissing her, and promising not to dream any more that night. The cold of her own room had somewhat dispelled the gloom of the dream, but she lay there for some time still in the power of that awful feeling that she was standing high on that ledge. If this went on she would be a nervous wreck, and that mustn’t happen. She had Mother to think of. Mother mustn’t be frightened. If she should get sick, what would Mother do? She had to snap out of this and do it quickly, and to that end she had to stop thinking about Laurie. If he telephoned, well and good; but if he didn’t, it was just going to be something she expected, that was all. She and Mother were going off to have a good time. She must forget about the party and the beautiful dress with its crimson sash. She must come down to living in her own world and not go creeping after another where she didn’t belong.

And, of course, it wasn’t as if she had been
turned
out of the other one. She had turned herself out, deliberately taken back the dress she had bought and sent regrets to the party. She had her pride still with her, anyway.

With that consolation, she turned over and went to sleep again, and when the morning came was able to look fairly cheerful and even a bit excited while they ate their breakfast.

“Now, Mother, don’t you get too tired,” she admonished as she hurried away to school. “Everything but a few trifles is packed, and I shall be home in plenty of time to see to those. You’ve no dinner to make. We’re getting that on the train. I’m so glad we decided to go by train instead of bus. I adore eating in the diner. And I got chairs in the Pullman, so we’ll have a swell rest before we eat.” She kissed her mother and hurried away, not allowing her eyes to lift and scan the road to see if a yellow roadster was hovering near, as once or twice it had done before when Laurie planned some special treat for her and wanted to make sure she would go. Laurie was out of the picture today, absolutely. She was not going to spoil her radiance by any gloom.

She was able to carry this attitude through a rather trying day and came home excitedly with a piece of news.

“What do you think, Mother,” she said, bursting into the house like a child. “I have two days more vacation! Can you imagine it? And to think it should come just at this time. Isn’t it wonderful? I’ve always wanted to have a little time to look around Washington! Isn’t it grand, Mother? I don’t have to be back here till Wednesday morning.”

“Wonderful!” said the mother. “But how did it happen?”

“Oh, there’s something the matter with the boiler, and they’ve got to pull it to pieces. The workmen say they can’t possibly get it done before Tuesday night.”

“Well,” said the mother with softly shining eyes, “this whole expedition seems to have been prepared for us in detail, as if it were a gift from heaven!”

Marigold caught her breath sharply and smiled. “Yes, doesn’t it?” she said brightly.

And her mother, watching, wondered. Was this real or just put on for her benefit? It was hard to deceive mother-eyes.

But Mrs. Brooke noticed that Marigold was very particular about writing out the address and telephone number in Washington for Mrs. Waterman to give to anyone who might telephone during their absence, and most careful to call up little Johnny Masters, the paperboy, and ask him to save the daily papers for her until her return. It might be that Marigold had put aside her own wishes and was determined to give her mother all the happiness possible on this trip, but she wasn’t forgetting entirely the party she was leaving behind, for she made all arrangements to read its account in the society columns, and the mother sighed softly, even while she rejoiced that her girl would not be present at that party after all. What would the future days bring? Would Laurie come after her again when the grand display was over? Would the interval only serve perhaps to bring things to a crisis? Well, it was all in the Lord’s hands, and she could do nothing but trust it there.

The next two hours were full and interesting. Putting in the last little things, seeing that the apartment was all in order to leave—the note in the milk bottle for the milkman, the note for Mrs. Waterman to give the bread man. And then the taxi was at the door, and they were off. And it was so long since the two had gone on even a short journey that they were like two children when they first started.

Lying back luxuriously in the Pullman chairs, admiring furtively each other’s new garments, watching the home sights disappear and new landscapes sweep into view, was most exciting.

“I’m glad you got that lovely brown suit,” said Mrs. Brooke, leaning forward to speak softly to Marigold. “It is just perfect. So refined and lovely. Your father would have liked that. It seems to me the most perfect outfit a young girl could possibly have.”

“I’m so glad you like it, Mother!” Marigold said, with a twinkle in her eyes. “I love it myself, and I’m glad I have it.”

They were still a long time looking at the pearly colors in the evening sky, and then Mrs. Brooke, from out of a silence in which she had been watching the little sad shadows around her dear girl’s eyes and mouth, suddenly spoke. “You know, my dear, you don’t have to go out gunning for a husband!”

“
Mother!
” Marigold turned startled eyes toward her parent and sat up in shocked silence.

“That sounds rather crude, doesn’t it, dear?” Her mother laughed. “But I’ve been thinking that a good many girls have an idea that the main object of living is to get married and that the whole thing is entirely up to them, therefore they must go out hunting and capture a man,
some
man, even if they can’t get the one they want!”

“Mother! What have I ever done that has made you think I thought that?”

“Nothing, dear. I wasn’t speaking of you just then. I was thinking of the scores of young things that come into the library. I hear them talking together. They seem to feel that it would be a calamity not to be married. I wish I had a chance to tell them that life is not a game of stagecoach in which the girl who cannot get a husband is hopelessly left out; that only a strong, true, tender, overwhelming, enduring love can make a married life bearable for more than a few days, and love like that does not come for the running after, for the brooding over, nor for clever wiles and smiles. It is God-given!”

Marigold sat startled, looking at her mother.

“What do you think I am, Mother?” she demanded indignantly. “I know you’re talking to me. I can tell by the tone of your voice. I’m not trying to fall in love! Just because I wanted to go to one party, I wasn’t running after anybody.”

“No,” said her mother gently. “I didn’t think you were. But this party was a kind of crisis in your life. You’ve chosen to stay away from it. You say it wasn’t all on my account. Therefore there must be something else behind it all. I am saying these things because if in the next few days or weeks you come to face any of these problems, I would like to have you think about what I have said. Don’t make the mistake of lowering standards, of making cheap compromises and desperate maneuvers to win love, for it is not to be had at that price. Now, that’s all. Come to me if ever you want me to say more on the subject.”

Marigold studied her mother’s face for a long time thoughtfully and then turned her gaze out the window to the deepening twilight on the snowy landscape. Finally she leaned over and patted her mother’s hand. “Thank you, Mother dear, I’ll store that up for future use. But for the present, I’ve almost made up my mind that I never shall be married at all. I think I’ll just stay with you, Mother, and we’ll make a nice lot of money and have a ducky little house together. But now, dear, don’t you think we ought to go into the diner car and get our dinner? I’m starved myself. How about you?”

Yet though they both smiled and chatted as they sat in the diner car and enjoyed their evening meal, watching the quickly darkening landscape from the window, the brilliant cities, the quieter unlit country flashing by like a panorama, still the mother watched her girl, trying to hide her anxiety. Why had she done this thing in the first place? Was it just an impulse to please her mother, or was it something deeper? Something about Laurie? And was she going to suffer from her rash impulse during the next few days, or would the Lord mercifully deliver her from it and give something to divert?

They had a pleasant journey, and as they neared their destination and thickening clusters of lights announced a city nearby, they both felt a little ripple of excitement.

Then the dome of the capitol flashed into view, like some far heavenly city painted on the sky, and the dim specter of the Washington Monument dawned in the myriad lights. Such a lovely vision! Marigold, who scarcely remembered her earlier impressions of Washington, was breathless and bright-eyed as she looked, and then rose to leave the train.

Just as they were passing through the train gate in the wake of a porter who carried their luggage, a young man stepped up to Mrs. Brooke and spoke. “You are Mrs. Brooke, aren’t you? I thought I couldn’t be mistaken. I’m Ethan Bevan. Aunt Marian sent me to meet you. Perhaps you don’t remember me, but I remember you.”

M
arigold looked up annoyed. Who on earth was this stranger? Heavens! Did he belong to the household where they were to visit, and would he always be tagging along spoiling the good times they were planning to have with Aunt Marian? She stared at him in surprise.

“Why, of course I remember you, Ethan!” exclaimed Mrs. Brooke eagerly. “How wonderful to see you here! Though I must confess I wouldn’t have recognized you. How nice of you to meet us! And this is my daughter, Marigold.”

The young man gave a brief, casual glance at the girl and bowed. Marigold acknowledged the greeting coolly and distantly. How annoying that there had to be a young man barging into the picture to spoil their outing! Who was he, anyway? Ethan? She seemed to have heard the name before but couldn’t quite place him, and she scarcely heard her mother’s quick explanation: “He isn’t exactly a cousin, Marigold, but he’ll make a nice substitute.”

Marigold walked stiffly along on the other side of her mother and said nothing, annoyed to be interrupted this way in her first sight of the city. She had no need for a cousin, real or otherwise.

But the young man did not seem to be any more anxious to be friendly than she was. He was talking with her mother, animatedly, almost as if he considered her daughter too young to be interesting. Though he didn’t look so old himself, she thought, when she got a good glimpse of his face as they passed under the bright lights of the station entrance.