My Actor Husband Part 19

When Will's absence from home became more frequent and of long duration I exerted myself to greet his return with a pleasant word and a serene face. And if, sometimes, I felt John's eyes upon me--those great gray eyes with large iris and the black fringed lids--I strove the harder to dissemble.

Sometimes Will would swoop down on us with a noisy party in tow and insist upon an impromptu dinner in the workshop. The suggestion was invariably hailed with delight by the women, who regarded the studio as an open sesame to forbidden fruit and free speech, while to the men it connoted models in the nude and baccha.n.a.lia.

On one occasion Will brought his star to see the minute whirling figure the sculptor had but recently completed in refutation of the criticism that his work was effective only in large design. Posing as a _connoisseur_, the lady had expressed the wish to see John's work. I think I hated her at first glance. There was something snake-like even in the movement of her body and in the craning of her long, thin neck from which a sharp jaw projected. She fascinated while she repelled.

Being temperamentally reserved in the presence of strangers--and the lady temperamentally interested in the opposite s.e.x--I had an opportunity to study her. My scrutiny was not un.o.bserved. Indeed, she was always conscious of self, though apparently not self-conscious.

In the act of taking her leave she stopped quite suddenly and addressed herself to me: "And so you are _Meesus_ Hartley.... What fine eyes you have ... such ... what _ees_ the word? Yes, tangled, tangled depths ...

and the shadows!... If I were a man I should make love to _Meesus_ Hartley...." She shot a glance at John Gailbraith, then dropped her lids over her eyes. But the suggestion was not lost. It was not meant to be.

"Madame has a pleasing way of expressing herself," I drawled, meeting the much affected wide baby stare of her orbs with a like expression.

Suggestion is insidiously effective. From the moment my husband's star had dropped the seed--thoughtlessly or maliciously, who shall say?--it took root. The calm surface over which I had been gliding during the past months ruffled and disturbed my equilibrium. The old _camaraderie_ between John Gailbraith and me gave way to self-consciousness on my part. I felt what I imagined might have been the sensation which overwhelmed Mother Eve after eating of the Tree of Knowledge. For the first time during our intercourse I looked upon John Gailbraith as man--myself, woman. I caught myself expecting, antic.i.p.ating, parrying any indication on his part which might be construed as a prelude to tenderness. My att.i.tude became constrained, unnatural; his, more gracious, gentle, tactful. Perhaps he a.n.a.lyzed my mood as the natural result of gossip which connected my husband's name with that of the "star." That he pitied me heaped coals of fire upon my head--and his. I was glad of the opportunity which took him to Washington in response to a letter from a prospective patron and left me to myself.

With mathematical precision I questioned myself: Why should I permit the insinuations of a not disinterested woman to mar a friendship which had become dear to me and which I had hoped to retain all my life? Was friendship between persons of opposite s.e.x not possible? Can there be no relationship between man and woman disa.s.sociated from s.e.x? Had this man by look or word professed other than friendship for me? Had I professed or felt any emotion other than which I indicated? Then why permit the bond to be severed by a wholly suppositious breach? I resolved that upon John's return to the city I should take up the thread where I had left off. There was consolation in the determination.

The time had arrived when I was to begin the nude of Boy in marble. It was to be my winter's work and I was eager to be well advanced with it before John went abroad again. I looked forward to his going with genuine regret. More and more Will had estranged himself from me: whether deliberately or not I was not prepared to answer. The relentless examination continued. What was it which held me to my husband? Did I still love him despite his infidelities, his ever-increasing neglect and selfishness? Or was it the tender memories of our youthful love at whose altar I worshipped, feeding the smouldering embers with incense of bruised and crushed illusions? Might I not, after all, with patience, devotion, tolerance and a single-heartedness of purpose lead his wandering steps back to me? If life was barren now, what should it be without him? No, I must find my solace in my pride in him; must squeeze what comfort I might in helping him on to success; always with the hope--hope!--the promise-crammed!

It had become a custom of mine to carry my perturbation of heart and mind to my boy's grave; there, in the silence and the nothingness of life, to find a balm and fort.i.tude. It was upon such a mission I set out one day late in September. Under the early autumn haze the meadows lay carpeted with golden rod and fleecy lace of the Queen's handkerchief.

Soothed by this tryst with my loved one I returned to town prepared to take up the battle. Arriving at the Grand Central Station I decided to telephone to Will's club with the hope of finding he had returned during my absence. Stopping to pay the toll I glanced listlessly around the waiting-room. A familiar figure caused me to start forward, then draw back. There, coming through the station was my husband and his "star."

From the handbags he carried--one of which I recognized as his--it was evident that they had come direct from the train. I recalled that Will had mentioned the fact that the star had recently bought a country residence. And, too, it recurred to me that, when on Sat.u.r.day night Will had telephoned me that he was at a Turkish bath and would remain there all day, his voice had a far-away sound to it, as if the message were at long distance. Sunday and Monday had pa.s.sed with no word from him. I now understood where he had been.... I watched them drive away in a hansom.... Then I took a car home.

CHAPTER XIX

It had never before suggested itself to me that divorce was the only solution. Divorce had always appeared to me an acknowledgment of failure--failure of married life. When my son was taken from me I had cherished the delusion that our differences lay buried in his grave; that an adjustment of our married life was imminent.... Divorce! To give him his freedom; to turn me upon the world without anchor, ballast or compa.s.s.... A kind of terror took possession of me--not the terror of being thrown upon my own resources for a livelihood, since I was not dependent upon my husband for maintenance, a consideration which prevents many women from severing a bond which has become repugnant to them--but the terror of loneliness. I had already tasted of this bitterness--was I now to be surfeited with it? If only Boy had been spared to me! O, G.o.d, the pity of it all!... And yet, there was no other way. To carry on the farce of married relationship; to submit to him, feeling only revulsion, repugnance, was nothing short of prost.i.tution.

And had I not already prost.i.tuted the best that was in me? Already the corroding influences around me had begun to tell. Even John Gailbraith had noticed the change in me and had alluded to it under the veil of kindly intent. If I were to save anything from the wreckage I must begin now, at once--before it was too late. I had seen women, good women, stronger women than myself, break under the strain of neglect and loneliness.... Well, I should not break. Pride should sustain me.... The future ... no, I dared not yet think of the future. It made me quail and falter in my purpose--a purpose I determined to make known to my husband on his return.

Arriving at the studio the next morning earlier than was my custom (Will had not yet put in an appearance and the delay but strengthened my purpose), I found that John had not yet returned from breakfast. His small sleeping-quarters, giving upon the studio proper, were open and, without meaning to be curious, I paused in the doorway. A charcoal sketch caught my eye. It was my own likeness. Scattered about the room were other sketches in various stages of development. I turned away, closing the door behind me. A warm flush suffused my being. I told myself it was shame at having intruded where I had not been bidden....

The various models of my son stood about the room and beckoned me. I ran my fingers over the little head, the pouting lips, and laid my cheek to his in silent salutation. The flood-gates strained and throbbed, threatening to break through.... A hand closed over mine.... I knew the hand.... In my complete immersion of thought I had not heard him come in.... I bent and pressed my lips upon his hand.... We stood looking at each other. Something of the shock I felt was mirrored in his eyes....

"Margaret ... Margaret," he had said ... and I, all unyielding, had sought the solace of his arms....

Some time later he placed a chair for me and forced me gently down ...

still quivering under the shock of revelation--revelation, not of what I had done, but of what I _felt_! The spurious sentiment which had held me to the past of things shook me with its last convulsive gasps....

Seated in front of me, his hands clasping mine, he read the confusion in my mind: confusion which speech alone could dissipate....

"I want you to know what is in my mind and heart.... Doubt, a great question over-shadows all else. I ask myself, can a woman love more than once? Is there a love for youth, a love for maturity?... You see, I am not sure that I really love you. I am haunted with the fear that my loneliness, my wounded pride, my unsatisfied life have caused me to seek consolation. And I have come to you for that consolation because I respect and admire you. Propinquity has proved that we are companionable and that we have much in common. But love demands something more than companionship, respect and admiration. _You_ would demand something more.... Whether I am prepared to give you that which you demand is the question. As I feel now, I could not give you all the marriage relation implies. Do you understand my scruples? I have the feeling that to go from one man's arms to another's is nothing short of indecency. Perhaps time will alter the perspective. But I don't know, John, I don't know!

You see I want to be honest with you. I want to promise nothing about which I am not sure.... Then, there is your side of it. Can I give all a man expects from the woman he makes his wife? What have I to give? The bloom of my womanhood, the ardent pa.s.sion of youth is forever gone. What is left may not satisfy you.... It is right that you should go away at once ... but I shall be lonely.... G.o.d and my heart alone know how lonely I shall be...."

"Margaret, I thank you for your frankness. It only adds to my love for you. I appreciate and respect the feeling which bids you send me away at this time. Only don't sacrifice yourself to a prudish modesty; don't make a fetish of the past. Conserve your tender memories, if you will, but strip them of overvaluation.... You ask what have you to give.... Do you believe that because the bloom of your womanhood, your first pa.s.sion and its fruition have belonged to another, that there is nothing left to give? Shall I be giving, does any man give, what he demands of a woman as the prerogative of his s.e.x? You see, little woman, we are the victims of a false education. There is one standard for woman, a different standard for man. It is this faulty double standard which is responsible for so many unhappy marriages. Some day this will all be changed. There are signs even to-day of the awakening.... Rid your mind once and for all of the spectre that the past will stand between us. Don't stultify your womanhood with a sentimentalism which is the curse of your s.e.x.

Life lies before you. The motherhood which your nature is crying out for is your rightful heritage. Look ahead, dear. Be true to the best that is in you ... and remember ... I am waiting...."

I bade him good-bye--and had lingered. His strong hands clasped mine once more and held me there.... Mutely we looked into each other's eyes ... and thus my husband found us.... Coming in unannounced--whether intentionally was of small moment. We did not start; instead, I think he held me closer and met the other's sneer with a clear gaze....

"Drop my wife's hand! Drop it, I say!" Will raised his cane to strike. I heard it snap and saw the bits in the other's hand. They clenched and glared at each other....

"It is not necessary to indulge in heroics," I interposed.... "Suppose we talk it over--sensibly."

As we seated ourselves in preparation for the "_pour-parler_" the ironic humour of the situation came to my rescue. There was something absurdly theatrical about Will's att.i.tude: a stentorian breathing; his stride across the room; a certain punctuated deliberation in the way he relieved himself of hat and gloves. I had seen him do thus in "strong"

scenes on the stage, many and many's the time. I felt as if I were waiting for a cue....

"So!" Will began after placing his chair firmly centre.... "So this is the way you abuse my confidence in you both!... My G.o.d, where is your sense of honour? If I hadn't trusted you so implicitly it wouldn't be so bad ... but to deliberately strike me from behind!" He rose, strode left centre and back again. "And you--my wife! _My wife!_ I would not have believed it of you! I would never have believed it possible that my wife could so deceive me.... I've been warned about this.... I've been warned that such a thing as this might happen, but I refused to listen to gossip ... and n.o.body had the nerve to tell me the truth.... It's the same old story ... a husband is always the last one to hear of his wife's infidelity.... Margaret! _Margaret!!!_"

He stopped and waved his hand tragically in the direction of the models of Boy....

"How could you.... How could you!... Here under the very eyes of our little son! Have you no shame, have you no reverence for the memory of that sainted child?... O, my G.o.d! Woman!..."

The mention of the child electrified me ... his cheap grief was revolting....

"Stop that! Stop your acting! I'm sick, _sick_, _sick_ unto death of the theatre!... Haven't you one honest, sincere emotion in your nature? Play the plain, rugged manly hero for once in your life, if act you must!...

You wouldn't believe it of your wife ... _your_ wife.... Do you think _your wife_ is not made of flesh and blood and sensibilities like other human beings? What right have you to expect _anything_ from your wife?

How dare you conjure with my son's name?... you, fresh from the arms of that--that creature!..."

Will eyed me narrowly.

"O ... so you've been listening to gossip, have you? You've been discussing me between you, is that it? No doubt our friend, here, has done his best to put you wise, eh? I've had enough of this...."

"You shall stay and hear me out!... It may surprise you to know that our friend, here, has not even intimated that he knew of your flagrant liaison.... It may shock you to know that it was your wife, the gutta-percha doll, who made the first declaration of tenderness, and I'm glad, I'm glad that I had so much real pa.s.sion left! I'm glad to realize that after all I am a human being still, capable of feeling" ... (a sudden weariness overcame me and left me limp and exhausted). "The trouble is--you are so impregnated with the rottenness about you, that you judge all by your own standard.... Let's have done with this!... Any further discussion will be carried on in the privacy of our home.... I am sorry ... sorry to have subjected you to this humiliating scene." My last words were addressed to the man who, tall, gaunt and pale, looked on--and waited. Through a blur of tears I held out my hand to him....

"Good-bye," I said and left them together.

It was dark when Will returned. I heard him softly close the hall-door after him. He came into the room where I was lying and sat down beside me.

"Girlie ... I have something to say to you...." His speech showed a little thickness and I smelled the liquor on his breath. His tone was kindly and I felt my rancour soften.

"First, don't let us lose our heads again ... it doesn't help matters.... Gailbraith and I have talked it over ... and the kindest thing I can do is to give you a divorce.... That sounds cold-blooded, doesn't it, between you and me?... but it's the only thing ... the only right thing. Gailbraith says I'm not playing fair by you; that I am ruining your life and cheating you out of happiness which I can't give you myself ... and I guess he's right.... I guess Gailbraith's right....

We've drifted pretty far apart--I realize that now ... but--I want you to believe me when I say you are the only woman I have ever loved--or ever will love. The rest are just--experiences; some of them fascinating while they last, but none of them the real thing. No one will ever replace you in my heart ... that's certain.... It's too bad--too d.a.m.ned bad.... It's this h.e.l.lish business! There ought to be a law to prevent actors from marrying.... Now for the business end of it: I know you won't drag in any names as corespondents. We'll fix that up later. I'll give you a lump sum, now--it can't be as large as I should like it to be, for there isn't much left. When my season opens I'll make you a weekly allowance until--until such a time as you are able to dispense with it. I'll see my lawyer--to-morrow, and fix things up with him.....

Don't you think it might be well for you to go away for a few days to avoid the newspaper blow-up?"

I nodded. I could not speak....

"There, old pard ... don't take it so hard.... I guess that's all for the present. I'll be at the club any time you want me....

Good--good-night, Girlie ... and G.o.d bless you...."

In the days which followed I appeared to myself like a rudderless ship in a choppy sea. I did not see John Gailbraith again. He sailed within a few days after the scene in the studio. In a letter written from the boat he told me he had not forced himself upon me, knowing my wishes and respecting them. "Be true to yourself is all I ask," the letter ran, "and know that whatever you may decide as best for yourself that shall I abide by."

Following the serving of the papers on Will for absolute divorce, I left town. Those wretched days were spent on railroad trains, fast trains, flyers. I got off one only to board another. The sense of "going somewhere" was in keeping with my mood. When I returned to New York, worn and relaxed, I appreciated the quiet of what once had been home....

Will had already installed himself at the club. The dismantling of the apartment was a nerve-racking task. Memories, bitter, sweet, crowded on each other's heels, "so fast they followed." Will had left a list of books and trinkets which were to be packed and sent to storage in his name. In an old trunk, buried beneath dust and grime in the bin, below stairs, I found endless souvenirs of my married life. Photographs, letters, my wedding flowers; press-notices, carefully preserved in a large sc.r.a.p-book; costumes I had made for Will in the early days of our struggle; Boy's first shoe.... This inscription on the back of a large photograph Will had given to me on the day of our betrothal: "To Girlie from her Boy--until death do us part and even in eternity." ...

Letters, breathing hope and fears and always--love.... Damp with tears, I gathered the symbols of the wreck and plied a match. I watched them as they burned ... and crumbled to ashes ... ashes....

I sat in the rear of the dim theatre where I had slipped unnoticed, after the lights were lowered. I had come to see him as a kind of leave-taking. To-morrow, the open sea ... a new world.... His voice thrilled me as before: I smiled at familiar little tricks and mannerisms.... His features had coa.r.s.ened somewhat; his figure taken on flesh, but it was the same Will ... the same handsome lover of my youth.

The scene faded from my view.... I lived again in the past; all rancour dead, a great tenderness and regret--regret that it should be so.

Silently I stole away, while the lights were low. "G.o.d bless you, dear,"

I whispered in my heart, "G.o.d bless and keep you, dear."