His Second Wife Part 12

In the days which followed and grew into weeks and months, the feeling of quiet remained with her. The pang of uneasiness as to how she was to find friends for Joe and herself, was allayed and put off to the future.

He would not expect anything of her just now. And because it was pressing upon her no longer, it became a pleasure to dream and plan for herself and Joe and the children.

She was only twenty-four, and although Joe was thirty-six he looked years younger. They could grow. Now she began asking him to read aloud in the evenings, nor was the reading all "mere fluff." Though she picked out amusing things to vary the monotony, she insisted on magazines and books which had been recommended by the little history "prof" at home, to whom Ethel wrote long letters. The books rather appalled her husband at times; but using her new hold on him, she said:

"Go on, dear, now begin." And she picked up her sewing with a look which said, "We've got to grow, you know, if we're ever to get friends worth while or have a life worth living."

But again she would shut out all that, and smile to herself and grow absorbed. And this habit grew to such a degree that by the beginning of summer their reading bees had come to an end. In June she took Martha and Susette and went to the seash.o.r.e for three months. She came back in September, and now the time was drawing near. Her husband's love grew anxious and there came troubled gleams in his eyes.

The trained nurse had arrived. The doctor kept coming. Martha was plainly "in a state." And Emily Giles, for all her grim ways, had moments almost tender. All centering, swiftly centering, as the long voyage neared its end.

CHAPTER XII

What deep relief and blessed peace. She lay on her bed, now smiling, now inert, eyes closed, weak and relaxed, but already aware from time to time of the beginnings within herself of new vitality, food for her child. Her body felt profoundly changed, and so it was with her spirit.

Again the thought rose in her mind that this had settled and sealed her life. But she was glad of the certainty. Slowly, as her strength returned, all the vague desires and dreams of the last few months came back, grew clear; and she planned and planned for the small boy whom the nurse kept bringing to her bed. At such moments the new love within her rose like sonic fresh bursting spring.

The city, though so vast, complex, came to be like a place full of miracles. The voices of its ceaseless life came into her window day and night, the hoots and distant bellows of s.h.i.+ps, the rattle of wheels, the rush of cars, the long swift thunder of the "L," and bursts of laughter from the streets, and animated voices. She remembered her first night in New York; she recalled her earlier visions of the city as a place of thrilling aspirations, wide, sparkling, abundant lives. And Ethel smiled and told herself:

"All the glory I dreamed of is here."

The thought came to her clearly that Amy it was who had hidden it all, who had stood smilingly in the way and had said, "All this is nothing."

But she felt a rush of pity now for the woman who was left behind, cut off so completely by the birth of this small son. The nurse was bringing him into the room, and Ethel smiled at her and said:

"Ask Susette if she doesn't want to come, too."

It was only a day or two later that her husband broke his news. He had been so dear to her, his visits had been such a joy, and although behind his tenderness vaguely she had sensed some change, some new excitement in his mind, in her own absorption in their boy she had attributed it to that. But early one evening he came in with a sheaf of roses in his arms, and when she had exclaimed at them and breathed deep of their dewy fragrance, Joe bent over and kissed her, and said a little huskily:

"I've got some big news for you, little wife. It's big. It's going to mean so much."

"What is it, Joe?"

She stared up intently into his eyes. He was telling her he had made money. He was telling how the approaching birth of their small son had made him feel he must put an end to these ups and downs, and how he had worked and racked his brains. He told of heavy borrowing, of anxious weeks, of a wonderful stroke of luck at last which not only made him rich for the moment but opened the way to wealth ahead. He was speaking of what this would mean to them here. He knew how hard it had been for her and how pluckily she had come through without ever asking for anything. But all that was over now. He had made money! What was the matter? She heard it all in fragments, topsy turvy. What was wrong?

"Here is a Joe I've never known!" Still staring up into his eyes, she saw their strange exultant light; the excitement in his husky voice struck into her sensitive ear and jarred; and she nearly shrank from the clutch of his hand. She lay wondering why she was not glad, till suddenly she saw in his face his sharp disappointment at the way she was taking his news. With a pang of alarm she roused herself and said:

"Oh, Joe, it's too wonderful! It's so sudden it strikes me all of a heap!" And she laughed unsteadily, seized his hand and kissed it, talking rapidly, her eyes glistening all the while with foolish tears.

Fiercely then she asked herself, "Why can't you enter in and be gay?"

But though she was doing better now and had him talking as before, again and again she felt he was thinking how different Amy would have been--how in an instant, laughing and crying, she would have thrown herself into his arms!

Yes, indeed, a Joe she had never known, shaped and moulded by the wife who had had him in those early years when a woman can do so much with a man, can do what sets him in a groove in work and living, tastes, ideals. "And I thought I had done so much!" But Amy's hand had still been there; he had been her husband, all the time!

It was a relief to have him gone. Alone she could think more clearly.

"What are you so frightened about? Of being rich, you little fool?" No, she had always wanted that, money enough to forget it existed, money to open all the doors. "But this money is coming too soon! I'm not ready.

I'm too young! And he'll expect so much of me now. There'll be no excuse for holding back, for going slow till I find what I want. He'll expect me to find friends at once! But where shall I find them all of a sudden? It isn't as though we were millionaires, really big ones, all in a minute. The newspapers won't be very excited; the town will take it quite calmly, quite! And for the life of me I don't see any friends rus.h.i.+ng at us! And yet he'll expect it! So much he'll expect! He'll give and give and give me things and then wonder why I don't get anywhere!" The angry tears leaped in her eyes. "Because he's different now, he's changed! All bursting with his big success, his 'strike,' his business--money mad! Oh, how I hate his business--and that detestable partner, too!"

A wave of rebellion swept over her at the way she had been caught, tangled into the life of a man and the fortunes of his business. But then she thought of the son she had borne him, and this brought quick remorse and tears, from which she fell into a deep sleep. And when she awoke she found the nurse was waiting with the baby.

And the days which followed with their peace, their slow return of health and strength, brought a.s.surance, too, and she laughed at herself for having been such a foolish child. She recalled her panic on her wedding night. Then, too, she had found a Joe unknown. But had that turned out so dreadful? He came often to her bedside now; and although she could feel how changed he was, it no longer frightened her. She had her wee boy; and Emily Giles and Susette and her nurse kept coming in; and the room grew very gay, as they had little parties there.

"Who needs friends so all of a sudden!"

But one day Emily came in and grimly remarked, "There's a woman outside who owns this apartment."

"What?"

"She acts that way. She's walking 'round that sitting-room--picking things up and putting things down-" Emily's voice was rising in wrath.

"Emily! Sh-h! She'll hear you! Who is she? Didn't she give her name?"

"Here's her name!" And Emily poked out a card, at which Ethel looked in a startled way.

"f.a.n.n.y Carr! Now why has she come here?"

"Will you see her or shall I tell her the flat is already rented?"

"No, no! Emily--don't be rude! She's a friend of my--my husband's!"

And a few moments later, propped up in bed with a pretty lace cap on her head, Ethel was smiling affably at her visitor, who was exclaiming:

"My dear girl, I'm so glad to see you again! So good of you, letting me in like this! I didn't have the least idea! I didn't know of your baby--I hadn't even heard you were married! I've been abroad for over a year. I got back to New York only last week and heard from one of Joe's men friends of the luck he has had--how his business is simply booming along! It's perfectly gorgeous, Ethel dear, and I'm so glad for you, my child! When I heard the news--"

She talked on vivaciously. And Ethel lay back, her gaze intent on f.a.n.n.y's handsome features, on her rich lips, pearl earrings, her eyes with their curious color, grey green, that were so sparkling and alive.

And Ethel thought to herself in dismay: "How much more attractive she is! Was my first feeling about her all wrong, or is it that I'm getting used to these New Yorkers? I thought she was just hard--all bra.s.s! She isn't! She's--she's dangerous! What is she poking 'round here for?

What does she want? Is she married again? No, her name was the same on her card. Still single--yes, and looking around--for somebody with money!"

By the questions f.a.n.n.y was asking, plainly she was trying to find what friends Ethel had made in New York. And although the girl on the bed talked of the town in glowing terms, in a few moments f.a.n.n.y was saying:

"I'm afraid you've been rather lonely here."

"Oh, no!" And Ethel laughed merrily. "If you knew how my time is filled--every hour! My small boy--" and she went eagerly on to show how full her life had become.

"Oh, you darling!" f.a.n.n.y laughed. And then with an envious sigh she said, "You make me feel so old and forlorn. With all your beauty, Ethel Lanier, and youth--your whole life starting--well, you've just got to let me in and take you about. Oh, I know, I know, it's so wonderful here, and fresh and new, and you're quite contented and all that. But after all, it's a city, you know--a perfectly good one, full of life--and people you'll like--old friends of Joe's." She went on in a crisp gay tone to paint the pleasures of the town. And meanwhile glancing at Ethel she thought, "What a perfect devil she thinks me, poor child, a bold bad creature on Joe's trail--when all I want is to take her around and help her spend her money. I need it badly enough, G.o.d knows!"

At last she rose.

"I mustn't tire you. Good-bye, dear. You'll let me come again, of course."

"Oh, yes, do." At Ethel's tone, f.a.n.n.y smiled to herself, as deftly she adjusted her furs. She turned to look in the mirror and her eye was caught by the photograph of Amy over on Joe's chiffonier. She moved a step toward it, paused, turned back, and with a good-bye to Ethel went out.

Ethel's eyes went back to the photograph. How strong and alarming, all in an hour, Amy's picture had become. As she looked, it seemed to take on life, to be saying, "Money! Money at last!" And with dismay she told herself:

"Now they'll come in a perfect horde!"

CHAPTER XIII