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My Actor-Husband

<h3>CHAPTER XIX</h3> 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 compass.... 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, God, 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 prostitution. And had I not already prostituted 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 passion 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.... God 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 passion 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 sex? 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 sex. 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 attitude: 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 God, 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 nobody 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 God! 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 passion 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 damned bad.... It's this hellish 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 God 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 scrap-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 coarsened 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. "God bless you, dear," I whispered in my heart, "God bless and keep you, dear." THE END Transcriber's note: Beside a few typographical errors, the following changes have been made: How long with=>How long will woman as my right=>woman at my right <hr class="full" /> AFTER THE HONEYMOON—WHAT? 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