“That was the only thing to do.”
“So it seemed to me. I left the town where I was living and moved to Chicago where, through the influences of a friend, I obtained a position in a school of acting and elocution. I instructed the pupils in voice production. You may have noticed that I have an unusually deep and resonant voice. Through that, I obtained this work and received the stipend of thirty-five dollars a week. It was fairly good pay, the hours were not too long, there was no demand made of a sacrifice of conscience, and I confess that I felt much freer and more contented than I had in the church.
“It was at this stage of my career that I met the lady who became my wife. We lived at the same boarding-house—Mrs. Heeney’s, a most elegant, well-kept place, and Mrs. Heeney a lovely woman of one of the best southern families. It was at her table that I met the girl who was destined to have such a fatal influence on my life. She was a stenographer and typewriter in one of the largest firms in the city, earning her twenty dollars a week, as she was an expert and not to be beaten in the state. She was very pretty, the brunette type of beauty, black-eyed, and as smart as a steel trap. She was as dainty as a pink, always well-dressed and up-to-date, never anything sloppy or slouchy about her. Ask her to go to the theater and there wouldn’t be a woman in the house who could beat her for looks and style. Besides that, she was a fine conversationalist, could talk as easily as a book on any subject. If I brought her a novel, she’d read it and have the whole plot at her finger-ends, and be able to talk it all over, have her own opinions about every character. Oh, she was an accomplished, fascinating woman, if I say it myself! Any man might have taken to her. She was for ever telling me about California, and how she wanted to get back there—”
“California?” interrupted Dominick. “Did she come from California?”
“From here—from San Francisco. She was a native daughter of the state and the town. I was interested in California myself at that time, though I’d never seen it, and we’d talk of that and other things till, bit by bit, we drifted nearer and nearer together and the day came when we were engaged. I thought that was the happiest day of my life, and it would have been if she’d stayed true to her promises.”
The clock struck the single silvery note of the half-hour and Dominick heard it. He was interested in the story, but he had only another half-hour to give, and said as Buford paused,
“Go on. It’s very interesting. Don’t stop.”
“The first step in our married life that seemed to me strange, that cast, not what you’d call a cloud, but a shadow, over my happiness, was that she insisted on keeping the marriage secret. She had several reasons, all of which seemed good and sufficient to her. She said her people would not like her marrying a stranger away from home, and that they’d cut up very ugly when they heard it. Her principal reason, and the only one that seemed to me to have any force, was that she feared she’d lose her job. She had it on good authority that the firm where she worked wouldn’t employ married women, and if they knew she’d got a husband who was making a fair salary, they’d give her the sack. Whether it was for all the reasons together, or for just this one I don’t know, but she’d only marry me if I’d solemnly promise to keep the matter secret. I’d have promised her anything. She’d out and out bewitched me.
“So we were married and went to housekeeping in a little flat in a suburb. We had our mail sent to our old address at Mrs. Heeney’s. She was in our secret, the only person who was. We had to let her know because of the letters, and inquiries that might have been made for us from time to time. We were married in the winter, and that winter was the happiest time of my life. I’ll never forget it. That little flat, and that little black-eyed woman,—they were just Paradise and the angel in it for me. Not but what she had her faults; she was hot-tempered, quick to flare up, and sharp with her tongue. But I never cared—just let her sputter and fizz till she’d worked it all off and then I’d take things up where they were before the eruption began. It was a happy time—a man in love and a woman that keeps him loving—you can’t beat it this side of Heaven.”
Dominick made no answer. The actor for a moment was silent and then with a sigh went on.