Part 19 (1/2)
”Why not?” he demanded, with a smile, a smile calm, triumphant, masterful.
”Agnes!”... It was the sole pretext to which Mary could turn for a momentary relief.
The bridegroom faced about, and perceived Agnes, who stood closely watching the meeting between husband and wife. He made an excellent formal bow of the sort that one learns only abroad, and spoke quietly.
”I beg your pardon, Miss Lynch, but”--a smile of perfect happiness shone on his face--”you could hardly expect me to see any one but Mary under the circ.u.mstances. Could you?”
Aggie strove to rise to this emergency, and again took on her best manner, speaking rather coldly.
”Under what circ.u.mstances?” she inquired.
The young man exclaimed joyously.
”Why, we were married this morning.”
Aggie accepted the news with fitting excitement.
”Goodness gracious! How perfectly lovely!”
The bridegroom regarded her with a face that was luminous of delight.
”You bet, it's lovely!” he declared with entire conviction. He turned to Mary, his face glowing with satisfaction.
”Mary,” he said, ”I have the honeymoon trip all fixed. The Mauretania sails at five in the morning, so we will----”
A cold voice struck suddenly through this rhapsodizing. It was that of the bride.
”Where is your father?” she asked, without any trace of emotion.
The bridegroom stopped short, and a deep blush spread itself over his boyish face. His tone was filled full to overflowing with compunction as he answered.
”Oh, Lord! I had forgotten all about Dad.” He beamed on Mary with a smile half-ashamed, half-happy. ”I'm awfully sorry,” he said earnestly.
”I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll send Dad a wireless from the s.h.i.+p, then write him from Paris.”
But the confident tone brought no response of agreement from Mary. On the contrary, her voice was, if anything, even colder as she replied to his suggestion. She spoke with an emphasis that brooked no evasion.
”What was your promise? I told you that I wouldn't go with you until you had brought your father to me, and he had wished us happiness.” d.i.c.k placed his hands gently on his wife's shoulders and regarded her with a touch of indignation in his gaze.
”Mary,” he said reproachfully, ”you are not going to hold me to that promise?”
The answer was given with a decisiveness that admitted of no question, and there was a hardness in her face that emphasized the words.
”I am going to hold you to that promise, d.i.c.k.”
For a few seconds, the young man stared at her with troubled eyes. Then he moved impatiently, and dropped his hands from her shoulders. But his usual cheery smile came again, and he shrugged resignedly.
”All right, Mrs. Gilder,” he said, gaily. The sound of the name provoked him to new pleasure. ”Sounds fine, doesn't it?” he demanded, with an uxorious air.
”Yes,” Mary said, but there was no enthusiasm in her tone.