“If you should ever marry a soul, you mean you would prove very prolific,” he said; but even he was conscious of going too far, and he added, “but I am sorry my temper has made me say rude things to you, Clara. I am really ashamed of myself, but I know you will not forgive me. But no matter now. One thing you forget. The divorce I get from you, not you from me, remember that. I shall be free to marry, ‘as though the defendant were actually dead,’ but the defendant will ‘not be free to marry until the plaintiff be actually dead;’ so the document will read, madam,” and with these words, he left the library just as Miss Charlotte entered. She asked him if he would be in at dinner. “I shall try hard to do so,” he said. “I would not deprive madam of the pleasure of her husband’s presence. Ta! ta! mon ange,” and he actually kissed his hand to Clara, who stood staring at him as at a monster. When the door closed behind him she told Charlotte all he had said.
“What then does a divorce mean?” asked Charlotte. “How can you remain bound to him, when he marries another wife. It is not common sense.”
“No,” answered Clara. “It is not common sense; it is law, it seems;” and she poured forth a storm of indignant protest against laws made by men without the consent of women. Miss Charlotte replied:
“I wish I could see some of my friends, who say they have all the rights they want, standing exactly in your place. It is enough to make women insane with rage. Such injustice! such barbarous tyranny. My doubts are all gone. The women’s-rights agitators are right. Don’t be surprised if you find me hereafter a ‘shrieker,’ as the press insultingly calls those women,” and looking at herself in the glass over the mantel-piece, she added, laughing, “See! an old maid, somewhat over thirty-five, tall, spare, with a thin, prominent nose. I should grace any suffrage platform in the land.” Clara smiled, but she was too sad to enjoy the pleasantry of Miss Charlotte, and soon after took her leave, and dispatching with all speed the business of the flower firm, she was glad to get home to Susie, in whose never-failing sympathy she found a rest, which grew more and more to her with the experiences of life.
In a few days Von Frauenstein returned, and Min had her promised ride. It was quite a long one, and part of the course was through the fine grove of the Kendricks, which joined the doctor’s fruit orchard; and the Forest family, by the invitation of the Kendricks, always used it as freely as if it were their own. On this occasion Leila Forest was leisurely sauntering through the central avenue with a book in her hand. She looked up with a beaming face when the count stopped his horse and greeted her; but seeing the child, whom she readily recognized, her countenance fell. He did not appear to notice this, and asked her if she would not join him in the ride. She declined with girlish stateliness. He divined her motive instantly, and said, “Miss Leila, I think you do not know this young lady by my side. Permit me to introduce you to Mademoiselle von Frauenstein, my adopted daughter.”
“Ah!” was all that Leila’s amazement could find for expression, and the count bowed gravely and drove on.
“She don’t like Minnie, does she, Paul? But Linnie does. Linnie comes to see auntie, and she kisses me too.”
“Does she? Paul will remember that.”
When Leila reached home, she told her mother of the meeting in the grove. Mrs. Forest was not inclined to believe the adoption of Minnie anything but pleasantry on the count’s part, but she said it was very unwise to refuse the count’s invitation to ride with him.
“Why, mamma!” exclaimed Leila, “of course I wanted to go; but I thought you would never approve of it. I think he’s horrid to make so much of that little crazy imp.”