Black is White

by George Barr McCutcheon

Nor was it an easy matter for Mrs Desmond to combat these fears. In her heart she felt that an irreparable break had occurred and that the final clash was imminent. She tried to make light of the situation, however, prophesying a calmer attitude for Frederic after he had slept over his grievance, which, after all, she argued was doubtless exaggerated.

She promised to go with Lydia to see James Brood in the morning, and to plead with him to be merciful to the boy she was to marry, no matter what transpired. The girl at first insisted on going over to see him that night, notwithstanding the hour, and was dissuaded only after the most earnest opposition.

It was four o'clock before they went back to bed, and long after five before either closed her eyes.

Mrs Desmond, utterly exhausted, was the first to awake. She glanced at the little clock on her dressing-table and gave a great start of consternation. It was long past nine o'clock. She arose at once and hurried to her daughter's door, half expecting to find the room empty and the girl missing from the apartment.

But Lydia was lying there sound asleep. Mrs Desmond's lips parted to give voice to a gentle call, but it was never uttered. A feeling of infinite pity for the tired, harassed girl came over her. For a long time she stood there watching the gentle rise and fall of the sleeper's breast. Then she closed the door softly and stole back to her own room, inspired by a sudden resolve.

While she was dressing the little maid-servant brought in her coffee and toast and received instructions not to awaken Miss Lydia but to let her have her sleep out. A few minutes later she left the apartment and walked briskly around the corner to Brood's home.

She had resolved to take the matter out of her daughter's hands. As she stood at the bedroom door watching Lydia's sweet, troubled face, there arose within her the mother instinct to fight for her young. It was not unlikely that James Brood could be moved by Lydia's pleading, in spite of his declaration that Frederic should never marry her, but the mother recognised the falseness of a position gained by such means.

Over Lydia's head would hang the perpetual reminder that he had submitted out of consideration for her, and not through fairness or justice to Frederic; all the rest of her life she would be made to feel that he tolerated Frederic for her sake. The girl would never know a moment in which she could be free from that ugly sense of obligation. God willing, Frederic would be her daughter's husband. Lydia might spare him the blow that James Brood could deal, but all of her life would be spent in contemplation of that one bitter hour in which she went on her knees to beg for mercy.

The mother saw all this with a foresightedness that stripped the situation of every vestige of romance. Lydia might rejoice at the outset, but there would surely come a time of heartache for her. It would come with the full realisation that James Brood's pity was hard to bear.

Fearing that she might be too late, she walked so rapidly that she was quite out of breath when she entered the house. Mr Riggs and Mr Dawes were putting on their coats in the hall preparatory to their short morning constitutional. They greeted her profusely, and with one accord proceeded to divest themselves of the coats, announcing in one voice their intention to remain for a good, old-fashioned chat.