The Land of Promise: A Comedy in Four Acts (1922)

That was the last straw. The men had turned to go. In a flash she had made up her mind. Her brother's house was no longer possible. Gertie had, in a moment of passion, confessed that she hated her; had always hated her in her secret heart ever since she had read that protesting letter. What daily humiliations would she not have to endure now that she had matched her strength against Gertie and lost! It meant one long crucifixion of all pride and self-respect. No, it was not to be borne!

There was one avenue of escape open, and only one. He had said that he was willing to offer a home to a woman who was willing to assume her share of the burden of making one. It was even possible that he would be both kind and considerate, no matter how many mistakes she made at first, to a woman who tried to learn. Of one thing she was certain, he would know how to see that his wife was treated with respect by all the world. For the moment, her bleeding pride cried to her that that was the only thing in life that was absolutely necessary. Nothing else mattered.

'Frank, will you wait a minute?'

'Sure. What can I do for you?'

'I've understood that I'm not wanted here. I'm in the way. You said just now you wanted a woman to cook and bake for you, wash and mend your clothes, and keep your shack clean and tidy. Will I do?'

'Sure.'

'Nora!' Her brother was shaking her by the shoulder.

'I'm afraid you'll have to marry me.'

'I guess it would be more respectable.'

'Nora, you can't mean it: you're in a temper! See here, Frank, you mustn't pay any attention to her.'

'Shameless, that's what I call it.' That was Gertie.

'He wants a woman to look after him. He practically proposed to me half an hour ago--didn't you?'

'Practically.'

'Nora! You've been like cat and dog with Frank ever since you came. My dear, you don't know what you're in for.'

'If he's willing to risk it, I am.'

'It ain't an easy life you're coming to. This farm is a palace compared with my shack.'

'I'm not wanted here and you say you want me. If you'll take me, I'll come.'

For what seemed an interminable moment, he had looked at her with more gravity than she had ever seen in his face.

'I'll take you, all right. When will you be ready? Will an hour do for you?'

'An hour! You're in a great hurry.' She had had a funny sensation that her knees were giving way. She had never fainted in her life. Was she going to faint now before them all? Before Gertie? Never! Somehow she must get out of the room and be alone a minute.

'Why, yes. Then we can catch the three-thirty into Winnipeg. You can go to the Y. W. C. A. for the night and we'll be buckled up in the morning. You meant it, didn't you? You weren't just saying it as a bluff?'

'I shall be ready in an hour.'

She had pushed Eddie gently aside and, without a glance at anyone had walked steadily from the room.

Once seated on the side of the bed in the room that had been hers, she had been seized with a chill so violent that her teeth had chattered in her head. To prevent anyone who might follow her from hearing them,--and it was probable that her brother might come for a final remonstrance; it was even conceivable that Gertie, herself, might be sorry for what she had done; but no, it was she who had said she was shameless!--she got up and locked her door and then threw herself full length on the little bed and crammed the corner of the pillow into her mouth.

Perhaps she was going to die. She had never really been ill in her life and the violence of the chill frightened her. In her present overwrought state, the thought of death was not disquieting. But supposing she was only going to be very ill, with some long and tedious illness that would make her a care and a