Part 48 (2/2)
Forbes' heart cried aloud within him: ”My G.o.d! her very chauffeur gets nearly as much as I do!” This was the spark of resentment that gave him his start. He spoke bitterly, almost glad that she was dazed. And he put her away from him that both might be free. And he savagely kicked a rock into the smiling little pool and watched it grow turbid as he poured out his confession.
”Listen, honey; you've got a wrong idea of my situation. I'm to blame for it, I reckon. I've been meaning to speak about it, but I didn't--for just the same reason that kept you quiet about Enslee. I'm not rich, honey. I didn't tell anybody I was rich, but the idea got started from Ten Eyck's fool joke about seeing me coming out of a big bank. I told him the truth, and now I must tell you. You'll hate me, but you've got to know some time. I'm not rich, honey.”
”What of it, dear?” she said, creeping toward him. ”I love you for yourself. I never thought you were rich like Willie. I gave up all that gladly.”
”But I'm what you would call--a pauper, I suppose. I have only my army pay.”
”Isn't that enough?”
”Plenty of couples seem to be happy on it, but they're mostly the sons and daughters of army people. You've been brought up so differently.
Wild extravagances for our people would be shabby makes.h.i.+fts to you.”
”Don't you think I'd be able to adapt myself?”
”Would you?”
”I should hope so. How much is your army pay, if you don't mind my asking?”
”As first lieutenant I get a little over two thousand.”
”Two thousand a week? Why, that's not bad at all. Why did you frighten me?”
He laughed aloud, and she corrected herself.
”Oh, two thousand a month. That's about twenty-five thousand a year. It isn't much, is it? But we could skimp and sc.r.a.pe, and we'd have each other.”
She had given him his death-blow unwittingly.
He smiled dismally, and groaned:
”Two thousand a year with forage.”
She stared at him in unbelief. ”Two thousand a year with forage! We couldn't eat the forage, could we? They give you a pittance like that for being an officer and a gentleman and a hero?”
”The hero business is the worst paid of all. Look at the firemen.”
”But, my dear, two thousand a--why, our chef gets more than that, and our chauffeur nearly as much; and my father's secretary--everybody gets more than that.”
”Not everybody. The vast majority of people get much less. But that's what I get.”
She had been prepared for self-denial, but this was self-obliteration.
If he had told her that he had the yellow fever she could hardly have felt sorrier for him, or more appalled at the prospect of their union.
She loved him, perhaps, the more for the pity that welled up in her. She denounced the government for a miser.
”We're better paid than other armies,” said Forbes. ”Officers in foreign armies are supposed to have private fortunes.”
”I don't wonder,” she gasped. ”And you haven't any?” He shook his head.
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