But Nicola ever hopes that perhaps he will pay and at four o'clock watches his window for my ribbon. Then he sees go in Nancy Cornish, and he thinks that very queer and comes to tell me, who am round the corner in the car. We watch and see her come out, and turn east, and we follow her, and I see her going into the Park; a thing to drive me wild, for I know well she used to meet Will Denny in the Park. She came much, much too soon this time, but did not care. Till she saw me.
If she had not come so soon, if she had kept her mouth shut, how different all would be to-day! No! Out she came with it—Filippi has told her! He has told her we are married! She has telephoned to my betrothed, she is to tell him here! Filippi has done worse. He has said to her, "This I would not tell to every one. But if she should seek to injure you and get him back, say to her—What do you know of the Arm of Justice? She will let you alone, then!" With those words did she not seal her own fate? He must have got drunk on talk, Filippi,—not being used to be listened to—for he tells her that Nicola and I wrote that letter from Will I gave her to read. He gives this girl the address of my cousin, and says if Will comes there, directly, he will show him the papers of our marriage. Thus do these two little jealous, peeping fools spoil everything!
In the meanwhile Ingham has got my letter, and has guessed I wrote it. And he calls up this girl, whom he knows to be Christina's dearest friend, and asks her, does she know Christina's sister? He tells her that though all is broken between Christina and him, there are things Christina must not believe, and perhaps there is something she must know. He asks when he can see this Cornish girl, and she tells him after rehearsal, but before five. She is very much excited, and she says how always in her own room girls run out and in and so she will come to him—She, mind you, the baby-girl! And there she tells him her tale and he tells her his, my letter for the money and all, and she gives him the address of my cousin, and there he has gone to find Filippi,—for she is not so crazy Will shall go!—while she is telling me what she thinks of me, softly, in a low voice, in the Park. I think how Will Denny is coming, and I make a little sign. And Nicola hits her once, and picks her up limp; I following with her hat, like a sister, in case we meet a policeman. And we lift her in the automobile and put up the hood, going fast as we dare. At my cousin's they have denied to know of Filippi. For Filippi, out of the window, saw it was not Will, but Ingham. And we take her in there. She comes to, before long, and all we can do with her is to take her out of town. Only I must leave her at my cousin's now, for I am to dine with Will before his rehearsal.
It seems to me that any person of a pitiful heart, who also admires courage and address, must be sorry for me, now. Here am I, born for love and to command and charm, tied to Filippi and to lowly life; having planned so wisely and dared so well, now with this rag of a girl on my hands, not knowing what to do with her; with the Camorra itself, all unconscious, closing ever in and in, by its offer to absorb our Arm of Justice; with the spite of Ingham on my heels and tattlers and spies on all sides, just when I need all my wit to win my love. For he has not had time to learn to love me as he would love me before long. He is very, very sweet to me, but he does not care. Just when he first turned to me there was one flash. I hope and I pray to all the saints, I plan and watch and make myself fair and think of all that can please him; I spend my days and nights to feed the fire; but it burns out. He is kind, he thinks he is to marry me, he is fond of me, because I am sad and so is he. But he is sick for that Cornish girl who is not worth one hair of my head, and I have no time to wait till his love grows. I think how I am to defend myself with him if Ingham talks; and when I get to the restaurant where we have a private room—I am so shy and so sensitive, lest people laugh at my queer eyes!—there I find he has met Christina on the street and carried her along to ask her does she know why Nancy did not come in the Park.
Well, I tell him. I tell him Ingham's name, as I have told it to Christina. And he does not like Ingham, whom he has seen fascinate Christina against her will, and whom he has heard of as a brute to women. And always Ingham has wished Christina to be less friends with him, and has done many little things in hate of him. So that he is all ready to believe what I say; how his Nancy was afraid to face him this long while, and meant to try this afternoon and failed; and how it is Ingham who has given her money to go away. I think it will make him hate her. I think it will make him not listen to Ingham. I do not know it will make him perfectly cold and perfectly still, not speaking a word—not even when Christina, for the first time in her whole life, is angry with me and tells me I deceive myself, I misunderstood Nancy, he does not speak.
He talks nicely about other things at dinner, but he does not go toward the theater afterwards. And when Christina asks him why not, he says he forgot something which he has at home. And she says to him, "You cannot go to Ingham now, you have a dress-rehearsal." And he says, "I have not forgotten that." So she takes me with her to Nancy's boarding-house, and there they who are busy and notice no better, say she has gone out to dinner, before the theater, with a Miss Grayce. And Christina goes home to see if she can get word to Ingham to keep out of Will's way and I go back to my cousin's table d'hôte.
Now we have never said to Christina that we have a car. She cannot afford us one, however she tries, and we do not want her to know we have ever a dollar but from her. We sell a little from the farm, and she knows we send this in to market by a man with a truck, and she is willing to spend so much on her own fancies that she even arranges with him to bring her my flowers. But for us she buys a little wagon with two seats and a plug of a horse. She needs not to know everything and watch all our movements. So mostly we keep the car at the other place; and half the time I am there myself. If she comes visiting to the farm I can take the Cornish girl out there.
But I must first see Ingham and beg him to be merciful to me. And, indeed, he has loved me so much, I think he cannot resist to be a little kind. And I leave Nancy in the car with Nicola and the boys and with her mouth stopped, across the street from Ingham's house under the windows of that Herrick. So, without thought of fear, I enter. Afterward, when I read about the elevator boy, I remember I have on a favorite of Christina's dresses. For, naturally, of hers, I take what I choose.
Well, there is nothing to be done with Ingham—he is mean, mean through. He will give me up to the police. He has heard before of the Arm of Justice; he says that he will break it. And then I tell him he would better clear out, for I know Christina thinks that Will will kill him. And it is then Will rings and when he, grinning, welcomes Will in, he sees, and any one may see, that Will has his revolver in his hand. But when Will finds me there he is stricken dumb. And Ingham laughs and says, "You wonder what this injured lady is doing here? Ask Nancy Cornish!"
And Will cries out at him, not so very loud, but as a sword goes through the air, "Ask Nancy Cornish!" and then, very low, "Do not imagine but that I shall ask Nancy Cornish! And you shall tell me where she is!"