Peggy O'Neal

by Alfred Henry Lewis

There came one thing, however, to rub my fur against the grain; but this was of the week prior to our Tuesday of Peg's reception. It is the great marvel how it will ever be the slight affair to ruffle one. I have known a rascal to crack off his pistol at me for a no better reason than strong drink; and yet beyond a busy interest to stun him and prevent a return of his experiment, and so settle safety in my favor, my bosom went as rippleless of wrath as any millpond. On the other side, the idle whistle of some fellow, and him outside the house and of no knowledge even of my being, has sent me off on storms of rage.

This it was to nag me into irritation. There arrived one day a mighty casket of jewels for Peg—diamonds and rubies they were, and ones a princess might have worn with honor. They were a gift from Eaton; for that secretary was notably rich and owned the treasure-chests of an emperor.

Peg said naught of these trinkets, whether to the General or to me, nor did she show them. But since they came in from New York, employing for their safety certain armed guardians of express, the thing could be called no secret. Moreover, Eaton himself would probably be the last to smother the story of these chains and bracelets and brooches and coronets and flashing whatnot, since for what else did he buy them save self-love and to deck Peg out as one decks out a horse on gala days. That man never loved Peg; it was a mark of sentiment beyond him. He had a pride of her as of a gem or a picture, and wore her beauty as one wears a decoration.

But he no more knew Peg, no more loved Peg, than cud-cattle know and love the stars above their stolid heads. Her praise would ring sweet to his ear, yes; her loveliness and the bright glory of her eyes would lighten his face. Also, the moon will light you and shine again on the face of that chance-hollowed mud-hole which the rains have filled and the swine enjoyed.

It is but truth to say that my resentment of these jewels to Peg gave me a pause of uneasiness. It was not the little fact of their existence which bayed me; it was not that I went pricked as though by nettles because of these gewgaws; that was not it. But why should I be pricked at all? Other folk would bring diamonds to their wives or sweethearts, and you meet none who owned to less excitement or a colder interest thereover than myself. Why, then, should these stir my pulse and set my anger to a trot? It were indeed a thing most passing strange, and one whereof I was bound to find the bottom if I called myself an honest man.

The question of my anger for Peg's jewels hung about me like lead, I tell you; for to myself I made free confession of that wrath and would hide nothing of it from my conscience. I was stout to drag myself to the bar, and to sit in trial over my own heart. Was it love of Peg to move me? The General had told me how I had been swept away in love for her from the first; but that was his jest and the bantering humor of him at the time. Was I in love with Peg? And if not, then wherefore fly to arms for that Eaton would hang the common gifts of man to wife about her charms and strive for her delight? That was the question I held before my soul's eyes and shook it for an answer.

In a trice the riddle was replied to; the reasons of my anger unrolled before me like a scroll. It was not that I loved Peg; it was my certain sureness how Eaton himself was master of no such true sentiment, nor one worthy of the word. As I have said, he but held her—being below a better thought—to adorn his vanity; he would wrap her in his riches in the vulgarity of a boast. Peg was as the feather to his hat, the jewel to his hilt; he trapped her in brilliants just as he drunk from cut-glass. And knowing Peg as I knew her, and with a deep appreciation of her worth, was it miracle, or must my heart be charged of crime, because my brow would flush to see her thus abased and set to nurse so gross a self-esteem? Besides, it fell as a blow upon one's better taste, since to embellish Peg with such earthenware was indeed to paint a lily and gild gold.

It was true, I so much resented these jewels, and they so bit my feeling in advance, that I went at wits' end to fish forth some excuse for being absent from that reception and thus avoid their tawdry splendors. But when I moved the matter, the General was set like iron that I should go.

Were it the General alone to cross my temper for this, I should have run over him, no doubt, and had my way for it. But next stood Peg in the path. I no more than breathed a half-suggestion of possible conditions to arise and keep me from the house, when she glowed on me with a look so gently pleading that, without waiting for her to speak, I straightway told her I would come.

“And I am glad, watch-dog,” said Peg, simply. “I could give myself no reason, save a reason that would burn like fire, why you should stay away.”