“I’ve got her where I want her! Exactly where I I want her! She’d throw over this world, and the next, and everything in them for me! There’s not another like her; all mad love for me, yet crystal-clear in soul! Oh, soul! It’s not that; it’s her honesty, her truth, her selflessness! I can’t seem to face fooling her; I guess I’ll have to lay the cards on the table in front of her, before Christmas, too! I don’t want to fool Cis Adair! And there’s not the slightest risk in doing it, not now! Probably there never was. She’s no doddering slave of ignorant prejudice! Besides, I’ve got her where I want her; to-day proved that! Dandy good thing it happened; tested her, gave me pluck to start in square with her, and honesty’s the only policy with Cis, that’s sure! Just where I want her! My splendid girl! It hurt, but she stood pat! Conscience won’t make a coward of brave Cis! And afterward I’ll know how to salve the conscience if it happens to smart a little. After Christmas I’ll be her conscience! Just where I want her, that gorgeous Cis of mine!”
Rodney went on glowing with triumph, the haunting dread of his past weeks almost laid, and Cis, when the last echo of his going had died away, closed the door and went up stairs slowly, for the first time in all her life seeking her bed with a heavy heart.
CHAPTER XII
THE STRAINED CABLE
THERE was a new element in life for Cis, a chord in its accompaniment that jarred, though she tried not to hear it. For the first time since she had been old enough to deal consciously with other people, Cis had done something in relation to another of which she was ashamed. When she omitted Mass on days of obligation, when it occurred to her that her infrequency at the sacraments was not to her credit, she was a little sorry, half resolved to do better, but she was not ashamed; she indirectly counted upon “fixing it up.” It is a noteworthy fact that people who do less for God expect Him to do more for them; they read the text: “because she has loved little much is forgiven her.”
But in relation to question of honor, “dealing straight” as she put it, Cis was acutely sensitive. She told herself that it would be too much to expect of anyone not to give her betrothed information which she possessed and which would not go farther, which would, without harm to another, greatly benefit him. The fact which she could not argue down as it faced her frowningly, was that Mr. Lucas had made no exception to his prohibition against disclosing the secret which her position necessitated her knowing, that she had given her pledge to keep it—and had broken it! For the sake of Rod, only, of course, to whom she owed her best help, but she had broken it!
The knowledge that she had failed in honor for the first time in her life shamed her, afflicted her. And back of this shame was a more poignant pain which she did not admit in her thoughts. It was Rod’s pleading, his making this a test of her devotion to him, to which she had yielded. Rod had been indifferent to her duty when it stood in the way of his advantage. Was Rod, could Rod be—Cis never went farther, but that was far enough to leave her weary in mind.
The visible result of her inward torment was to make her more demonstrative of love for Rodney; he was surprised to see in her daily new proof of its strength, of her disregard of the reserve which, up to this time, had tantalized him in her, while it whetted his delight in the expressions of feeling which he wrung from her. Now she adored him openly, frankly, with a feverish eagerness which he might have correctly construed if his understanding of this type of girl had been more profound. He thought it was due to the rapidly nearing date of their marriage, and it made his head swim to think what Cis would be to him in her own home if the approach to its threshold so multiplied her sweet ways.
A letter had come to Cis from Nan in reply to hers announcing her marriage on Christmas eve, a Nan-like letter, full of love for Cis, but no less full of anxiety. “It seems so quick, Cis darling!” Nan wrote. “To think that you’ll be married before me, and I’ve known Joe almost all my life! You have not said that your Rod is a Catholic, but Moore is sometimes Irish, so I suppose he is one. You would not marry anyone who was not a Catholic? We’ve so often decided that it is madness to set out on a certainty that there’ll be something serious to differ upon, when it’s so hard, at best, for people to grow close together, so easy to differ. Besides, it’s wrong; for the children’s sake it’s wrong—but you always said that yourself, so I’m sure Rod Moore is a good Catholic. Dearest Cis, I never could tell you how I hope and pray for you! For I’m always fonder of you than of any other friend I have. Lovingly, Your same old, Nan.”
“Wonder what she’d say if she knew Rod had been a Catholic and given it up? Nan would far rather he’d always been Protestant, of course; it would be better, too. Wonder what in all the world she’d say if she knew he was determined to get me to give it all up myself? Nan would take the first train on here, carrying a big jug of Holy Water, and she’d simply souse Rod and me to drive off the devil—bless her heart! But I’m not going to quit. To be sure I did miss Mass last Sunday, but I go pretty regularly; I’ll go every Sunday after I’m married, because it will be up to me to set a good example, bring Rod back. A person must have some religion, and it’s silly to have one made by Luther, or Henry the Eighth, or someone; I could make one myself as well as that bunch! I suppose it would be easier to convert a Protestant than turn Rod back; he’s awfully down on it, really! I wonder why? That’s not like being slack and lazy-minded! ‘For the children’s sake,’ Nan says! Well, I hope I’ll have children, certainly, but I’m not going to marry to please them, I’ll tell them that right now! They’ll have to take what they find, and if they’ll grow up as splendid as Rod is, Church or no Church, I’ll be proud of them! Funny little Nannie!”
“Rory O’Moore,” Cis said that evening to Rodney, “I’ve got to ’fess to Mr. Lucas!”