That's quite two hours ago--haven't I waited long enough?"
Oh,Mag--Mag,how can I tell him?Do you think he knows that I am going to be good--good!that I can be as good for a good man who loves me,as I was bad for a bad man I loved!
PHILADELPHIA,January 27.
Maggie,dear:
I'm writing to you just before dinner while I wait for Fred.He's down at the box-office looking up advance sales.I tell you,Maggie Monahan,we're strictly in it--we Obermullers.That Broadway hit of mine has preceded me here,and we've got the town,I suspect,in advance.
But I'm not writing to tell you this.I've got something more interesting to tell you,my dear old Cruelty chum.
I want you to pretend to yourself that you see me,Mag,as I came out of the big Chestnut Street store this afternoon,my arms full of bundles.I must have on that long coat to my heels,of dark,warm red,silk-lined,with the long,incurving back sweep and high chinchilla collar,that Fred ordered made for me the very day we were married.I must be wearing that jolly little,red-cloth toque caught up on the side with some of the fur.
Oh,yes,I knew I was more than a year behind the times when Igot them,but a successful actress wears what she pleases,and the rest of the world wears what pleases her,too.Besides,fashions don't mean so much to you when your husband tells you how becoming--but this has nothing to do with the Bishop.
Yes,the Bishop,Mag!
I had just said,"Nance Olden--"To myself I still speak to me as Nancy Olden;it's good for me,Mag;keeps me humble and for ever grateful that I'm so happy."Nance,you'll never be able to carry all these things and lift your buful train,too.And there's never a hansom round when it's snowing and--"And then I caught sight of the carriage.Yes,Maggie,the same fat,low,comfortable,elegant,sober carriage,wide and well-kept,with rubber-tired wheels.And the two heavy horses,fat and elegant and sober,too,and wide and well-kept.I knew whose it was the minute my eyes lighted on it,and I couldn't--Ijust couldn't resist it.
The man on the box-still wide and well-kept--was wide-awake this time.I nodded to him as I slipped in and closed the door after me.
"I'll wait for the Bishop,"I said,with a red-coated assurance that left him no alternative but to accept the situation respectfully.
Oh,dear,dear!It was soft and warm inside as it had been that long,long-ago day.The seat was wide and roomy.The cushions had been done over--I resented that--but though a different material,they were a still darker plum.And instead of Quo Vadis,the Bishop had been reading Resurrection.
I took it up and glanced over it as I sat there;but,you know,Mag,the heavy-weight plays never appealed to me.I don't go in for the tragic--perhaps I saw too much of the real thing when Iwas little.
At any rate,it seemed dull to me,and I put it aside and sat there absent-mindedly dreaming of a little girl-thief that I knew once when--when the handle of the door turned and the Bishop got in,and we were off.
Oh,the little Bishop--the contrast between him and the fat,pompous rig caught me!He seemed littler and leaner than ever,his little white beard scantier,his soft eye kindlier and his soft heart {?}
"God bless my soul!"he exclaimed,jumping almost out of his neat little boots,while he looked sharply over his spectacles.
What did he see?Just a red-coated ghost dreaming in the corner of his carriage.It made him doubt his eyes--his sanity.I don't know what he'd have done if that warm red ghost hadn't got tired of dreaming and laughed outright.
"Daddy,"I murmured sleepily.
Oh,that little ramrod of a bishop!The blood rushed up under his clear,thin,baby-like skin and he sat up straight and solemn and awful--awful as such a tiny bishop could be.
"I fear,Miss,you have made a mistake,"he said primly.
I looked at him steadily.
"You know I haven't,"I said gently.
That took some of the starch out of him,but he eyed me suspiciously.
"Why don't you ask me where I got the coat,Bishop Van Wagenen?"I said,leaning over to him.
He started.I suppose he'd just that moment remembered my leaving it behind that day at Mrs.Ramsay's.
"Lord bless me!"he cried anxiously."You haven't--you haven't again--""No,I haven't."Ah,Maggie,dear,it was worth a lot to me to be able to say that "no"to him."It was given to me.Guess who gave it to me."He shook his head.
"My husband!"
Maggie Monahan,he didn't even blink.Perhaps in the Bishop's set husbands are not uncommon,or very likely they don't know what a husband like Fred Obermuller means.
"I congratulate you,my child,or--or did it--were you--""Why,I'd never seen Fred Obermuller then,"I cried."Can't you tell a difference,Bishop?"I pleaded."Don't I look like a--an imposing married woman now?Don't I seem a bit--oh,just a bit nicer?"His eyes twinkled as he bent to look more closely at me.
"You look--you look,my little girl,exactly like the pretty,big-eyed,wheedling-voiced child I wished to have for my own daughter."I caught his hand in both of mine.
"Now,that's like my own,own Bishop!"I cried.Mag--Mag,he was blushing like a boy,a prim,rather scared little school-boy that somehow,yet--oh,I knew he must feel kindly to me!I felt so fond of him.
"You see,Bishop Van Wagenen,"I began softly,"I never had a father and--""Bless me!But you told me that day you had mistaken me for--for him."The baby!I had forgotten what that old Edward told me--that this trusting soul actually still believed all I'd told him.What was I to do?I tell you,Mag,it's no light thing to get accustomed to telling the truth.You never know where it'll lead you.Here was I--just a clever little lie or two and the dear old Bishop would be happy and contented again.But no;that fatal habit that I've acquired of telling the truth to Fred and you mastered me--and I fell.
