There was no faking his seriousness. Mr. Saltus was in a state of collapse. The way he reacted to this episode made whole the broken glass, and put a sponge over the incident forever.
In a week or so, arrangements being made for us to meet and be married in Montreal, he returned to the East. The Montreal idea had merits. As we had decided to live under British laws it was as well to be married under them. Mr. Saltus' former matrimonial knots had been tied in New York and Paris. He wanted to try a new place for luck. Owing to his divorce from Helen Read he could not be married in New York State in any event. Besides, he wanted to avoid a thing which loomed like a menacing monster in his path,—publicity. The newspapers had been none too lenient over his first offense. With the attempt to secure a divorce from his second wife, all the past had been resurrected and flung in his face in none too complimentary a way. His imagination visualized the headlines over a third marriage. "Saltus Lures Third Victim to the Altar." "Bluebeard Put to Blush." "At the Close of a Misspent Life Saltus Takes Third Wife to Nurse Him in His Declining and Reclining Years."
Spring merged into summer. Letters from Mr. Saltus, then in New York, inquiring when we should meet in Montreal, suggested also that we should sail from there direct to England.
An incident occurring at this time was so vital and far-reaching in my estimation that an indefinite postponement of our marriage seemed the only solution. I wrote him to that effect,—wrote also that I contemplated a trip to China and the far East. This was not done on impulse or in anger, and knowing that I was not given to threats, and that my reasons were substantial, Mr. Saltus took it like a death-blow. Four days journey apart, he was powerless to get to me before I could carry it into effect.
Telegrams stormed in. Though upsetting in the extreme, they were unanswered. Self-preservation lifting its head again, suggested retreat. It was a mirage however. A preservation excluding him would have been momentary only, for wherever I might hide I knew he would find me if he spent his life in the search. The hand holding the fold of my frock held it still. His last telegram, so characteristic that it is given here, broke down my resistance:—
Miss Marie Giles,
The Woodward, Los Angeles,
California.
Am wiring fifth time. If you have any affection for Snipps don't let it be in vain. Try send some helpful message, only send it quick. If not Snipps goes under. This is the last despairful cry of love and grief eternal. God bless you little girl.
E.
Fac-simile of Telegram sent to Marie Saltus