Addie's Husband; or, Through clouds to sunshine
Sharp girl, that little Loo! Collared Head--ha, ha! Collared Head!"
"Collared Head! How?"
"Don't you see? Because his face is so mottled and spotty, and his
collars throttle him up to the ears, Collared Head--by Jove, it's
about the best thing I ever heard! If 'Punch' could only get hold of
it! Collared Head--ha, ha!"
"Addie," says Armstrong, in a low voice, "I want to say something to
you. Will you come into my study for a few minutes?"
"Yes. What is it?"
"I am going away--"
"Going away! Where--when--how long?"
CHAPTER XIX.
"I am going away," repeats Armstrong to his wife, "at once, on
business. I must leave in ten minutes. I am going up to town first,
then on to Dublin and Cork."
"How long will you be away?"
"Ten days--a fortnight at the longest. I have brought over Bob to stay
with you during my absence, and have given him all directions which I
have not had time to give you. I hope he'll take good care of you."
"I'm sure he will enjoy the change and the responsibility; and I'll
see that he leaves in time for business every morning," says Addie
mechanically.
"Oh, that is not necessary! He need not go to Kelvick. The fact is--I
meant to have told you before, but other things put it out of my
head--Robert is no longer in the office--has resigned his appointment,
in fact," announces Armstrong.
"You could not keep him? I'm not surprised."
"No; it was his own wish to leave. He was totally unsuited to the work."
"And what is he going to do now?"
"Going to try soldiering."
"Soldiering? You mean he is going to--enlist!"
"Dear me, no, child! What an idea! He means to start with his
commission, of course."
"But that is absurd! He has nothing; it is impossible for him to live
in the army without money. I--I know--a cousin of mine who has three
hundred a year besides his pay, and he is always in debt. It is absurd!
I wonder at you, Tom, to encourage him in such an idea!" Her eyes flash
on him defiantly.
"He is fit for nothing else, and it has been the dream of the boy's
life. I think he will do well in the army; and he is not in the least
extravagant. You must admit that, Addie."
She sighs wearily. Suddenly her face clears.
"He'll never get in; he won't have a chance. The examination is
competitive, and getting worse and worse every year. The Hawksby and
the Wilmott boys have been plucked twice, and have given it up as a bad
job. Robert will never pass!"
"He is not going up for the direct Sandhurst exam. He has applied for a
commission in the county militia, and, after serving two trainings, he
can enter the cavalry with a merely nominal exam., I believe."
She is silent for a moment; a few hot tears steal down her face, her
hands drop to her sides with a gesture of tired bitterness.
"So--so he will be a pensioner on you all his life," she says slowly;
"he will eat the bread of dependence until he dies. And I can do
nothing--nothing; my hands are tied--tied"--twisting her wedding-ring
feverishly round and round, as if she would fain wrench it off.
He takes her hand and holds it for a moment in his firm clasp.
"Not yet, Addie, not yet. You promised me a year, remember."
"Such a long year--such a long year!" she sobs.
"I tried to make it as short for you as I could," he says, with almost
pathetic humbleness.
"You did, you did; but you went the wrong way to work, Tom, the wrong
way."
"So I fear, poor child; but I did it for the best."
"Will you tell Robert you have changed your mind, and do not wish him
to enter the army?"
"I could not do that," he says reluctantly. "I have given him my word,
his heart is set on it; besides, I conscientiously think it is the only
career in which he has any chance of succeeding. You will agree with me
when you have had time to think it over."
"You are robbing him of his manhood, his self-respect; you--you have
no right to do it. He does not feel--understand now; but he will one
day, when it will perhaps be too late. Oh, why do you do it--why? Is it
to punish me, to avenge the wrong I did you, to heal the wound I dealt
your pride, by humbling mine to the dust? I believe it is--I believe
it is; I do not clearly know--I can not fathom you yet. Sometimes I
place you on a pedestal high above others, of stuff too noble, too
generous, too strong to seek to sting a thing as small, as pitiful,
as helpless as myself. Then at other times, as now, you stand among
your fellow-men, of common clay like them, vain, small, revengeful,
unforgiving, cruel even!"
His eyes sink, a dusky glow creeps over his face, as he asks himself
if there is not a little truth in her judgment of him. Does he not
find an acknowledged sneaking satisfaction in thus watching her
writhing under his kindness, in loading her shrinking shoulders with
the weight of his benefits? After all, is there any necessity for him
to mount that swaggering brainless boy on the charger his father rode
so disreputably--Robert's wish is to join the --th Hussars, a regiment
in which both his father and two uncles served, which his grandfather
commanded during the Peninsular campaign with much gallantry and
distinction--any necessity to pander to the sister's daily increasing
vanity and greed of admiration, to feed them all on the fat of the
land, as he is doing?
"Ah, you cannot look me in the face!" she continues, with a sad
laugh. "My estimate was right; you do not stand on the pedestal,
after all. Well, well, husband, you are getting full value for your
outlay; your coals of fire reach me, scorch me, every one; my heart is
scarred--sore--"
"As Heaven is my witness," he says hurriedly, "I would not willfully
hurt a hair of your head! I would not--"
"Then tell Bob you refuse to help him with his commission," she puts in
quickly. "He is paralyzed if he can not reach your pockets. Tell him,
Tom--tell him that you have changed your mind, that you can't make him
an allowance."
"It is too late, I fear, Addie; his militia commission arrived to-day;
but--but--we can talk it over when I return, if you like."
"Train-time just up, sir; the trap is at the door!"
She walks away to the window to hide her face as her sisters come
dancing in, having only just heard of Armstrong's intended departure.
"You'll be sure to be back before the theatricals, Tom? You know I'm to
act in both pieces; and the Hawksbys will be disappointed if you don't
put in an appearance," says Pauline effusively. "The third of May,
remember!"
"You'll see me long before that."
"And, Tom dear," puts in Lottie, rubbing her cheek affectionately
against his coat-sleeve, "you're going to London, aren't you? If you
should any day happen to be passing before that big sweetshop in Regent
Street--"
"I'll not forget you, little woman."
"You dear! And, Tom, listen! Above all things, see they give you plenty
of 'Turkish delight.'"
"'Turkish delight'? I'll make a note of it."
"You'll know it easily. Don't let them put you off with cocoanut-paste;
it's not the same. The 'delight' is flat and pink and sticky, powdered
in sugar--you'll remember? Burnt almonds, chocolate-creams, and dragées
are also very good at that shop; but I leave it all to yourself."
"And, Tom, if you should chance, in the course of your travels, to
come across a pair of twelve-buttoned palest eau-de-Nil gloves,
six-and-a-quarter, and an aigrette, Tom, of the same color, with one
of those golden humming-birds posed in the center, you'll remember
your poor little sister-in-law wants both articles--they are not to
be had in Kelvick--to make her new ball-dress just the sweetest thing
out. You'll not forget--twelve-buttoned, six-and-a-quarter, foamy
green? Good by, Tom, good-by! We'll be as good as gold while you are
away--you'll see!"
He kisses them hurriedly, and then approaches his wife at the window.
"Good-by, dear," he says gently, almost entreatingly, bending over her.
"Won't you say a word to me, Addie?"
She turns away with a pettish gesture; then, after a lingering moment,
he leaves her.
However, just when he is stepping into the dog cart, she runs out, and
seizes him almost viciously by the arm.
"You're coming back? You're coming back?" she asks fiercely. "This
is not a trick, a ruse, to get away and make me stay on here--is
it--is it? Because--because--it won't do, I tell you; I won't stand
it--nothing on earth would make me!"
"My dear child," he answers, in a tone of such genuine amazement that
she is disarmed at once and a little ashamed of her impetuosity, "what
an idea to take into your head! Fancy a man of my age and standing
abandoning my wife, family, home--my beloved chimney-pots--at a
moment's notice like this!"
"I--I believe you, and--I'll say good-by to you now, if you like," she
says, laughing, and awkwardly raising her face to his.
As his mustache lightly brushes her cheek, she whispers eagerly--
"I'm sorry you're going, Tom--I'm awfully sorry. It--it would take
very little to make me cry. How horrid of you to laugh like that! I
shall miss you, I know, every day. Oh, can't you believe me--can't you
believe me a little sometimes?"
* * * * *
"Twelve buttons, eau-de-Nil, six-and-a-quarter!" "Turkish delight, pink
and sticky, chocolate-cream!" are the last words borne on the breeze as
Armstrong drives down the avenue.
Turning suddenly to nod in acquiescence, with a throb of joy he sees a
handkerchief applied to his wife's eyes.
"Could she have known--have guessed I should look round?" he thinks, in
happy doubt. "In any case she might have been ready for the emergency.
Bah! I believe her eyes are as dry and as bright as her precious
sister's this minute. I wish--I wish I had given in about that wretched
commission, though. Confound that boy! He's a desperate nuisance.
Suppose I turn back and do so now? But no; if I did, her life wouldn't
be worth living with him in the house. It will be time enough when I
come back. I won't be more than a week away, if I can help it."
* * * * *
When the dog-cart has disappeared, Addie faces her brother.
"Well, Robert, I have to congratulate you on your improved prospects.
I heard of them only a few minutes ago. It's a big jump from a junior
clerk in a merchant's office to a lieutenancy in a cavalry regiment."
"Oh, ah, yes--Armstrong told you!" the young gentleman replies, with
affected nonchalance, to hide his inward perturbation. "Yes, we have
been working the thing for some time; but I did not like to tell you
anything about it until it was finally settled."
"I knew all along," says Pauline triumphantly. "Isn't it grand news,
Addie? Fancy, his commission arrived this morning, and you have now
the honor of addressing a full-blown lieutenant in the Royal Nutshire
Fusiliers. Wouldn't you almost guess it by the extra vitality of his
mustache?"
"Yes," simpers Robert, "I am now a member of that gallant corps; and
a rare lot of fellows some of them are. You know most of them, Polly,
don't you?"
"All those worth knowing, Bob. I had an invitation, you must know, to
command the regiment last Thursday."
"No! Had you, though? Fancy old Freeman turning spooney at his time of
life! Well, I never! You would have been his third wife, wouldn't you,
Poll?"
"I should have started with two sons and a daughter older than myself,"
says Pauline.
"Well, I hope he'll let me off easily during the training, for your
sake, my dear."
"When did you leave Mr. Armstrong's office?" asks Addie, in a chilly
voice.
"Oh, I cut the shop nearly three weeks ago! Couldn't stand it any
longer, you know. It is all very well for a man brought up to that sort
of thing, with mercantile parents, _et cætera_, but with me it was