Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
“Look here, Laurie,” said Marigold, suddenly turning toward him, “that’s ridiculous! Anybody who could say a thing like that isn’t fit to get married! And I can’t talk any more about this. I’ve got to get to school. I’m late already.”
Laurie muttered a curse at the school, but Marigold darted around the room frantically, putting on her hat, gathering up her purse and coat and gloves, while he stood with angry eyes watching her. Then as she came toward the door with the evident intention of leaving, he stood in front of her and tried to prevent her.
“Mara, my Mara,
darling
! Say you’ll marry me, and I’ll be all different. Everything will be as it used to be!”
“Will you please go out, Laurie? I’ve got to lock this door!” she said in a voice that was trembling from excitement. “Please don’t talk anymore, either. It’s useless!”
She stepped into the hall, and he followed. Then she locked the door and darted away.
“But wait!” he shouted after her. “I’ll take you to school!”
But Marigold had reached the street and signaled a taxi that happened to be passing, and when he reached the street she was getting into it. She did not look up or wave to him, just drove away, and he stood there gazing angrily after her, his brow drawn in a heavy scowl.
And back behind her curtain, Mrs. Waterman was watching, feasting her eyes and her imagination on what had happened, getting ready a story to spread out for the pleasure of her friends who lived in the neighborhood.
But Laurie climbed slowly into his car, a look of defeat on his weakly handsome face. He drove off like a madman, whirling around the next corner so that Mrs. Waterman held her breath expecting to see the car overturn or smash into the oncoming bus. But Laurie was off to a place where he knew he could get another drink to carry him past this unpleasant memory. Marigold, the only girl he had ever really loved
almost
as much as himself, had scorned him, and he could not understand it. Scorned him though he had gone so far as to offer to marry her! That was really farther than he had intended to go when he went after her. He had only meant to hunt her up and smooth down her temper a little, he told himself. His mother would make a terrible fuss if he should marry Marigold, a girl without a cent of money. She might even go so far as to stop his allowance for a while, as she had several times threatened to do. She had been terribly tiresome ever since he brought that girl in out of the street and danced with her at her old party. Why did old people have to be so terribly stuffy? Well, he would be twenty-one in seven months now, and then he would come into some money of his own, a mere matter of two hundred and fifty thousand, of course, but it would tide him over until his father’s money should come to him. And in case he married Marigold, he wouldn’t have to tell anybody until he was of age. That would be just as well for Marigold, too. Her mother couldn’t kick then, either. And when they got their money they could clear out and let the old folks whistle.
By the time Laurie had had a couple of good stiff drinks he felt better and started out to try to find his impromptu friend of the night before, the girl he had brought into his mother’s party. He was quite well pleased with himself and his plans. He would take Lily Trevor out to lunch and maybe a spin in the park, then when Marigold’s school was out he would go and get her and thrash this thing out once and for all. Marigold had to be made to understand just how far she could go. He wasn’t going to have things all haywire. She had to cut out this fanatical stuff and learn to do as other girls did, and if one lesson didn’t teach her, he’d give her plenty.
But Lily Trevor was working in a factory, running a silk machine, and the rules of the factory were stiff. He couldn’t even speak with her. So he went back to one of his haunts and got several more drinks to prepare him for the afternoon. He still had a haunting memory of the look in Marigold’s eyes when she had scorned him, and he needed to be reinforced.
Marigold had a hard day. The children were still unusually restless because of their long break the first of the week and seemed unable to settle down to serious work. The tired, troubled little teacher longed to get home and think her problems through, but there seemed no chance for that. When three o’clock came, the principal approached her apologetically with a request.
“Miss Brooke, would you mind looking after some wayward ones in my room? They are not through the work that I told them positively had to be handed in tonight or they will not be eligible for basketball next term. I’ve just got word that the parents of a boarding pupil who is quite ill have arrived. I must meet them and take them to the child’s bedside. I really don’t see what I can do but ask you kindly to stay for a little while. Would you mind? I hope they’ll be through soon, but I can’t give you a definite time. I’ll be glad to return the favor sometime when there’s something you want.”
The principal smiled. She had a winning way with her. And, of course, there was nothing for Marigold to do but assent as pleasantly as she could.
So Marigold took a large bundle of papers she had to correct and went to the principal’s room.
But it was after five o’clock when the last dallier had finished his work and she could dismiss him and feel free to go herself.
Wearily she closed her desk, put on her coat, and hurried out to the street, deciding that she would walk home. She needed the exercise.
But what was her annoyance when she reached the pavement to find Laurie’s car parked in front of the building and Laurie himself, tall and formidable, standing on the sidewalk waiting as if he were a stern parent come to punish her?
“Oh, Laurie!” she said with a troubled note in her voice. “Why did you come here now? I told you I had nothing more to say. Please go away. I cannot go anywhere today. I have things to do at home.”
“So that’s the way you greet me, is it, when I’ve taken the trouble to come after you? You think you can turn me down just like that! Well, you can’t! I’m not one to take a slap like that and do nothing about it! I’m having it out. You’ve got to go home, haven’t you? Well, I’m taking you home, see? Get in! I’m taking you home when I get good and ready.”
Never had she seen Laurie in this mood before. She looked at him in astonishment and started to back away from him, but suddenly he seized her wrist and with an iron grip pushed her toward the car. She could not free herself from him without making an outcry and drawing the attention of others to herself. And to make the matter worse, three of the teachers and several students who had been holding a school club meeting were just coming down the steps behind her, and she was painfully conscious of their nearness.
“Laurie,
please
!” she said in a low tone. “This isn’t a joke. I really don’t want to go with you now. I have an errand. I want to speak to one of those teachers.”
She tried to stand her ground and resist him, but he held her arm like a vise and forced her around.
“I’m not joking!” he said grimly. “I came here to get you, and I’m taking you with me. Get in!” And he pushed her to the car so that she had to get in or stumble headlong. Moreover, it was the driver’s seat into which she was shoved roughly, and she had to struggle under the wheel to the other side, as he forced her over, springing in after her and starting his car almost before the door was closed.
Her face flamed scarlet with anger and then turned white, and she began to tremble. What did he mean, treating her that way? Then as the car shot out into the road and he turned sternly to face her, she got a whiff of his breath, which was heavy with liquor. Laurie had been drinking again!
A
new kind of fear possessed Marigold now. She had had very little experience with drinkers, and so the situation was all the more startling. What was he going to do? Where was he taking her?
She tried to steady herself, casting furtive glances at his stern face as he threaded his way recklessly through traffic, dashing through lights, disregarding a possible whistle of the traffic cop, whirling around a corner and back into the highway again without reducing his speed.
Oh, what was going to happen? He could not keep this up! They would both be killed! There would surely be an accident before many minutes. She must do something to stop him. Wasn’t there any way to calm him? He sat there without looking at her and driving like a madman. If she only knew how to drive! She had had a few lessons back in the days before her father died, but there had been no car after he was gone. And she did not dare trust herself even to try to stop this one, not with Laurie’s hand on the wheel and Laurie looking like a crazy man, his face white with anger, his eyes wild and bloodshot. What could she do?
Oh, Father in heaven, help!
Like an answer to her cry there came the words to her memory, words from that last morning in Washington when Ethan had read the psalm: “
Surely he shall deliver thee
—” and “
Thou shalt not be afraid
—” Those were all the words she could remember, but they calmed her frightened heart.
They were out of the city now and on the broad highway, but it was little better here. The traffic was thick, and Laurie, not satisfied with traveling along at a reasonable speed, was dashing in between cars and thundering past at a mad pace, rocking from side to side and barely escaping collisions on every hand.
“Laurie, please,” Marigold managed to whisper with white lips, “
please
go a little slower. You frighten me!”
Laurie looked down at her with bright, strange eyes in which triumph sat like a demon. “Frighten you? Ha, ha! Nothing to be ’fraid of!” His speech was thick and unnatural, and suddenly he reached out an arm and thrust it around her, drawing her close to him and forcing her head down on his shoulder.
“Needn’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you! Nothing ever happens to me! Just lie down there and go to sleep.”
Trembling with fear, she slid out from that embracing arm with loathing. She had never been so near a drunken man in her life.
“No!” she said as quietly as she could manage her voice. “I’d rather sit up! It makes me a little sick, this going so fast! Couldn’t you go just a little slower, Laurie?”
But he only gave an evil grin.
“Sorry, can’t ’commodate you, Mara,” he said thickly. “Got a date and have to get there! But you’ll feel better pretty soon, baby! Do you good, riding fast. Good for the lungs. Blows the cobwebs away!”
“But you said you were taking me home, Laurie,” she pleaded, “and this isn’t the way home. I’m feeling quite sick, Laurie, and I’d like to go home.”
“Yes, after while,” he said indifferently. “Gotta go shumwheres else first. Didn’t I tell you where we’re going? My mishtake! You shee, we’re on our way to get married! Some wedding trip, baby! Like it now?”
Horror froze her throat. She could not speak. She could not think. Was God going to let this awful ride go on? Was He going to let them come to some terrible end? A crash, terrible injuries, or death? Was a tragedy like this coming to her dear mother to bear, all because she had been so silly and thoughtless and self-willed and determined to have a good time with Laurie?
“Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him….”
The words came to her like a voice from far away, out of that quiet, happy Sunday night when Ethan had been reading God’s Word. She had been longing then for something deep and sweet in her own life that would calm fears and doubts and questionings and help her to anchor her soul, as the soul of the young man who was reading seemed anchored.
“Like that, baby?” demanded Laurie suddenly. “Like to get married?”
Her soul was one great cry for help and strength and guidance. What should she say? She loathed his calling her baby, but what was that in the midst of such danger? Not worth mentioning. The ravings of a maniac who must be calmed, not excited. She roused her frightened soul to self-control and tried to speak quietly.
“Have you told your mother what you are planning to do, Laurie?” she asked as steadily as she could.
“Told the mater? I should say not, baby! She’d fall into a rage and stop my allowance, and that would never do at this shtage of the game, shee? I’ve got eight bucks left in my pocket and my ’lowance is due day after tomorrow. Never do to tell the old lady I’m getting married. No, we’ll keep it quiet awhile, baby. By’m’by when I get my money, come of age, you know, then we’ll shrpring it on ’em. That ish, if we make it a go. If we don’t, nobody’s the wiser, and what nobody knowsh won’t hurt anybody. Shee, baby?”
He cast a devilish grin at her, and she wondered with a sharp thrust of condemnation how she had ever thought him handsome. Oh, could just a few drinks make a man into a devil like this? Or had he been at it a long time, and she had been such an ignoramus that she hadn’t suspected it?
She shrank farther away from him into her corner.
“I’m—feeling pretty—sick,” she gasped out. “Do—you—mind—if I—don’t talk—much?”
“Shick! Tough luck, baby! Thatsh a nish way to act on your wedding trip!”