CHAPTER IX
SOMEWHAT CYCLONIC
Margaret, on the way home afoot from the White House, where she had beenlunching with the President's niece, happened upon Craig standing withhis hands behind his back before the statue of Jackson. He was gazing upat the fierce old face with an expression so animated that passers-bywere smiling broadly. She thought he was wholly absorbed; but when shewas about half-way across his range of vision he hailed her. "I say,Miss Severence!" he cried loudly.
She flushed with annoyance. But she halted, for she knew that if she didnot he would only shout at her and make a scene.
"I'll walk with you," said he, joining her when he saw she had nointention of moving toward him.
"Don't let me draw you from your devotions," protested she. "I'm justtaking a car, anyhow."
"Then I'll ride home with you and walk back. I want to talk with awoman--a sensible woman--not easy to find in this town."
Margaret was disliking him, his manner was so offensively familiar andpatronizing--and her plans concerning him made her contemptuous ofherself, and therefore resentful against him. "I'm greatly flattered,"said she.
"No, you're not. But you ought to be. I suppose if you had met that oldchap on the pedestal there when he was my age you'd have felt toward himmuch as you do toward me."
"And I suppose he'd have been just about as much affected by it as youare."
"Just about. It was a good idea, planting his statue there to warn thefellow that happens to be in the White House not to get too cultured.You know it was because the gang that was in got too refined and forgotwhom this country belonged to that old Jackson was put in office. Thesame thing will happen again."
"And you'll be the person?" suggested Margaret with a smile of raillery.
"If I show I'm fit for the job," replied Craig soberly. It was the firsttime she had ever heard him admit a doubt about himself. "The questionis," he went on, "have I got the strength of character and thecourage?... What do you think?"
"I don't know anything about it," said Margaret with politeindifference. "There comes my car. I'll not trouble you to accompanyme." She put out her hand. "Goodby." She did not realize it, or intendit, but she had appealed to one of his powerful instincts, a powerfulinstinct in all predatory natures--the instinct to pursue whatever seemsto be flying.
He shook his head at the motorman, who was bringing the car to a halt;the car went on. He stood in front of her. Her color was high, but shecould not resist the steady compulsion of his eyes. "I told you I wantedto talk with you," said he. "Do you know why I was standing before thatstatue?"
"I do not," Margaret answered coldly.
"I was trying to get the courage to ask you to be my wife."
She gave a queer laugh. "Well, you seem to have got what you sought,"said she. He had, as usual, taken her wholly unawares.
"Not so fast," replied Craig. "I haven't asked you yet."
Margaret did not know whether she most wished to laugh or to burst outin anger. "I'm sure I don't care anything about it, one way or theother," said she.
"Why say those insincere things--to ME?" he urged. She had begun towalk, and he was keeping pace with her. "Jackson," he proceeded, "was aman of absolute courage. He took the woman he wanted--defied publicopinion to do it--and it only made him the more popular. I had alwaysintended to strengthen myself by marrying. If I married you I'd weakenmyself politically, while if I married some Western girl, some daughterof the people, I'd make a great popular stroke."
"Well--do it, then," said Margaret. "By all means do it."
"Oh, but there's you," exclaimed Craig. "What'd I do about you?"
"That's true," said Margaret mockingly. "But what am I to stand betweena man and ambition?"
"I say that to myself," replied Craig. "But it's no use." His eyesthrilled her, his voice seemed to melt her dislike, her resolve, as hesaid: "There you are, and there you stay, Margaret. And you're not atall fit to be my wife. You haven't been brought up right. You ought tomarry some man like Grant. He's just the man for you. Why did you everfall in love with me?"
She stopped short, stared at him in sheer amazement. "I!" exclaimed she."I--in love with YOU!"
He halted before her. "Margaret," he said tenderly, "can you deny it?"
She flushed; hung her head. The indignant denial died upon her lips.
He sighed. "You see, it is fate," said he. "But I'll manage it somehow.I'll win out in spite of any, of every handicap."
She eyed him furtively. Yes, if she wished to make a marriage ofambition she could not do better. All Washington was laughing at him;but she felt she had penetrated beneath the surface that excited theirmirth--had seen qualities that would carry him wherever he wished togo--wherever she, with her grandmother's own will, wished him to go.
"And," pursued he, "I'm far too rough and coarse for you--you, thequintessence of aristocracy."
She flushed with double delight--delight at this flattery and the deeperdelight a woman feels when a man shows her the weakness in himself bywhich she can reach and rule him.
"I'm always afraid of offending your delicacy," he went fatuously on."You're the only person I ever felt that way about. Absolutely the onlyone. But you've got to expect that sort of thing in a man who prevailsin such a world as this. When men get too high-toned and aristocratic,too fussy about manners and dress, along come real men to ride them downand under. But I'll try to be everything you wish--to you. Not to theothers. That would defeat our object; for I'm going to take my wifehigh--very high."
Yes, he would indeed take her high--very high. Now that what she wanted,what she must have, was offering, how could she refuse? They werecrossing another square of green. He drew--almost dragged--her into oneof the by-paths, seized her in his arms, kissed her passionately. "Ican't resist you--I can't!" he cried.
"Don't--don't!" she murmured, violently agitated. "Some one might see!"
"Some one is seeing, no doubt," he said, his breath coming quickly, alook that was primeval, ferocious almost, in his eyes as they devouredher. And, despite her protests and struggles, she was again in thosesavage arms of his, was again shrinking and burning and trembling underhis caresses. She flung herself away, sank upon a bench, burst outcrying.
"What is it, Margaret?" he begged, alarmed, yet still looking as if hewould seize her again.
"I don't know--I don't know," she replied.
Once more she tried to tell him that she did not love him, but the wordswould not come. She felt that he would not believe her; indeed, she wasnot sure of her own heart, of the meaning of those unprecedentedemotions that had risen under his caresses, and that stirred at thememory of them. "Perhaps I am trying to love him," she said to herself."Anyhow, I must marry him. I can trifle with my future no longer. I mustbe free of this slavery to grandmother. I must be free. He can free me,and I can manage him, for he is afraid of me."
"Did I hurt you?" Craig was asking.
She nodded.
"I am so sorry," he exclaimed. "But when I touched you Iforgot--everything!"
She smiled gently at him. "I didn't dream you cared for me," she said.
He laughed with a boisterousness that irritated her. "I'd never havedared tell you," replied he, "if I hadn't seen that you cared for me."
Her nerves winced, but she contrived to make her tone passable as sheinquired: "Why do you say that?"
"Oh--the day in the garden--the day I came pleading for Grant. I saw itin your eyes--You remember."
Margaret could not imagine what he had misinterpreted so flatteringly tohimself. But what did it matter? How like ironic fate, to pierce himwith a chance shaft when all the shafts she had aimed had gone astray!
She was startled by his seizing her again. At his touch she flamed."Don't!" she cried imperiously. "I don't like it!"
He laughed, held her the more tightly, kissed her half a dozen timessquarely upon the lips. "Not that tone to me," said he. "I shall kissyou when I please."
She was furiously angr
y; but again her nerves were trembling, wereresponding to those caresses, and even as she hated him for violatingher lips, she longed for him to continue to violate them. She startedup. "Let us go," she cried.
He glanced at his watch. "I'll have to put you in a car," said he. "Iforgot all about my appointment." And he fumed with impatience while shewas adjusting her hat and veil pushed awry by his boisterouslove-making. "It's the same old story," he went on. "Woman weakens man.You are a weakness with me--one that will cost me dear."
She burned with a sense of insult. She hated him, longed to pour outdenunciations, to tell him just what she thought of him. She felt acontempt for herself deeper than her revulsion against him. In silenceshe let him hurry her along to a car; she scarcely heard what he wassaying--his tactless, angry outburst against himself and her for histardiness at that important appointment. She dropped into the seat witha gasp of relief. She felt she must--for form's sake--merely for form'ssake--glance out of the window for the farewell he would be certain toexpect; she must do her part, now that she had committed herself. Sheglanced; he was rushing away, with never a backward look--or thought. Itwas her crowning humiliation. "I'll make him pay for all this, someday!" she said to herself, shaking with anger, her grandmother's owntemper raging cyclonically within her.