Playing With Fire

So Mrs. Caird was not astonished when, one morning in the early part of the following week, Lord Cramer entered the Minister's parlor while the family were at breakfast. He held Marion's hand while he offered his other hand to Dr. Macrae; and Dr. Macrae took it, though Mrs. Caird noticed that he left the table while doing so, saying he had finished his breakfast and, when Lord Cramer had done likewise, he would be glad if he would come into his study for a little conversation. "And, pray," he added, "how was Lady Cramer when you left her?"

"In the finest of health and spirits," was the answer. "Indeed, sir, you would vow she was but twenty years old. She is the gayest of the gay, and outdresses the Parisians."

Dr. Macrae bowed, but made no answer, and Mrs. Caird, who knew every phase and mood of the man's temper, was quite sure that no words could have translated that silence. It was like a black frost. For he had in his breast pocket a letter from Lady Cramer, received an hour previously, in which she described herself as really ill with longing for him, having no heart for the follies and gaieties of Paris and seldom going out. Further, she declared that nothing but the wretched climate of Scotland kept her from flying back to Cramer and to him; but her cough troubled her in damp weather, and she felt herself frail, and wished to get well and strong for his sake.

"And I have been believing and pitying this lying woman!" he said in an awful whisper, as he took the false message from his breast, and with a silent rage savagely placed his foot upon it. "I will never write another word to this shameless creature! I will never speak to her again! If she sought her pardon at my feet, I would spurn her from me," and to such passionate evil promises he trod the lying letter under his foot. Then he sat down, erect and motionless, with eyes fixed and arms folded across his breast. For, though trouble with the majority runs into motion, with Dr. Macrae it gathered itself together, and in a still, dumb intentness thought out how best to suffer or to do.

Fortunately Richard had so much to say to Marion that his breakfast occupied him nearly a couple of hours, and by that time Dr. Macrae had decided on his course. He was now more than ever determined to prevent his daughter's marriage to Lord Cramer. How could he permit her to come under the influence of a woman so wicked as Lady Cramer? She would either alienate his daughter from him or she would alienate her husband, and make his child a wronged and miserable wife. To prevent this marriage had suddenly become the most imperative duty of his life.

Really, from Dr. Macrae's point of view, there was nothing favorable for Marion in it. He held his uncle's ideas with regard to the superior nobility of the Macraes; he did not like Lord Cramer personally, and he believed him to be much poorer than he really was. With the pertinacity of his race he still clung to the Reid alliance. He told himself that circumstances have a kind of omnipotence, and that any day they might alter affairs so radically that Marion might come to see things as he did. "If Cramer would only go to the other side of the earth," he whispered, "it would leave a vacuum in Marion's life. Nature abhors a vacuum; she would hasten to fill it, and there is the possibility – yes, the likelihood – that Allan might slip into that other man's place, or the other man might be killed – or he might see someone he liked better than Marion – if Richard Cramer would only go away – if he would only go forever – yes, forever! It is no sin to wish a bad man to his deserts."

At this reflection Richard Cramer entered the room, and the first words he uttered seemed to promise a realization of Dr. Macrae's desire.

"Well, sir," he said, as he took the chair Dr. Macrae indicated, "well, sir, I am going with the Enniskillen Dragoons to India next week, but our route is far north, and so we shall doubtless escape the cholera."

"But not the warlike native tribes?"

"We are going to turn them into peaceable tribes."

"Not an easy task."

"It will be done."

"Yes – finally."

"Sir, you must know that I have loved your daughter ever since I first saw her. I ask your permission to make her my wife."

Dr. Macrae remained silent.

"I cannot bear the idea of waiting for nearly two years."

"You will be compelled to wait."

"Sir?"

"It is my will that you wait."

"Marion wishes to go with me."

"Have you asked her to go with you?"

"Not definitely, but – "

"Ah! I thought so."

"I will ask her to go with me now, and she will go."

"She will not. I forbid it. She will be her own mistress in twenty months. She can marry you then – if she wishes. But I advise you to give her up."

"Never! Until Marion gives me up I will never give Marion up. I swear it!"

"She is my daughter for twenty months longer. Time is sure to bring changes. Even now she would not leave me to go with you to India. You must be mad to imagine such a thing."

"I am in love. I trust her love by my own. She will do as I wish."

"She will keep faith with her father. You shall see that," and he rose, threw open the door of the room, and called imperatively,

"Marion!"

"Yes, Father," was the ready answer. "Do you want me?"

"Yes. Come quickly."

Lord Cramer had followed him into the hall, and when Dr. Macrae perceived this some innate, in-born sense of courtesy due the stranger within his gate caused him to return at once to his study. In two or three minutes Cramer followed. He had Marion's hand in his, and Mrs. Caird was but a few steps behind. She entered the room with them, and Dr. Macrae looked at her not very pleasantly.

"I did not call you, Jessy," he said.

"I am aware of that fact, Ian," she answered. "I called myself."

"We are not requiring your presence."

"I was never more needed. What for are you wanting Marion?"

"You can stay and hear, if you wish."

Then Dr. Macrae took the chair at his desk, and Marion and Lord Cramer stood before him. Their hands were still clasped, and unconsciously Marion leaned slightly toward her lover. The transfiguration of love suffused her face, and she stood smiling in all its glory. Dr. Macrae was struck afresh by a beauty he had hitherto regarded too little. He saw in her at this hour the noblest type of Celtic loveliness – its winning face, splendid form, rich coloring, all vivified by a well-cultivated intellect, and made charming and winsome by childlike confidence and simplicity. For a moment his heart swelled with pride as the sense of his fatherhood flashed over him.

"Marion," he said not unkindly, "Marion, Lord Cramer tells me you are willing to go to India with him. I cannot believe it."

"I have promised Richard to be his wife, so then, wherever he dwells, there my home will be. Is not that right, Father?"

"Yes, under proper conditions. But a promise made out of law and time is no promise. The law of your native land forbids you to make that promise, without my consent, until you are twenty-one years old."

"What right has the law of England to interfere with my marriage?" Then she laughed cheerfully, and said, "But it is no matter, dear Father, for you are above the law in this case. You have only to say, 'I do not want to delay or spoil your happiness, Marion; I am quite willing you should marry – '"

"Marion, it would be impossible for me to say such words. How can I be willing for you to go to a country so far off – a country full of deadly diseases and constant fighting – where the heat is intolerable and savage beasts, treacherous men and deadly serpents abound everywhere – yes, where even the insect life makes human existence a constant torture."

"Father, many delicately nurtured women brave all these things, for their husbands' sakes."

"Yes, and the majority die in doing so. That is, however, your side of the question. But I also have a definite right in this matter, a direct ethical right, which in the stress of this unhappy hour I feel fully justified in claiming. In my favor the law considers that for nineteen years I have had all the care, anxiety and expense of your feeding, clothing and education – that I have provided you with teachers and physicians, and looked after your religious instruction."

"I cannot see that there was any necessity for the law of the land to be looking after your rights in respect to the care and education of the children," said Mrs. Caird. "The interest of Marion's money paid both Marion's and Donald's expenses excepting – "

"I am stating the conditions and provisions of a law, Jessy, not any particular application of it."

"Then what for are you naming its application to yourself?"

Dr. Macrae ignored Mrs. Caird's question, and continued: "This law argues, and very justly, that a girl who has received nineteen years of unlimited love and attention of all kinds should remain until she is twenty-one to brighten her parents' home, learn how to estimate their affection and goodness to her, and get some ideas concerning the world into which she may finally go. It permits her parents, also, to bring proper lovers to her notice, and to point out the faults of those not worthy of her regard. It is a law that all girls with money of their own should rigorously observe;" and in making this last remark Dr. Macrae looked so pointedly at Lord Cramer that he was quite justified in defending himself.