The Reluctant Bridegroom Read Online Free PDF

ready soon.”
    He groaned, opened his eyes, then shuddered as he threw the covers back and put his feet on the cold floor. He lifted them instantly, swore, and hunted for his socks among the bedclothes. “Your shaving water is hot,” Rebekah told him.
    “Why shave?” he grunted. “Nobody’s going to see me.”
    Rebekah was tempted to suggest that he see if there was any work available, but she held her tongue. She had mentioned a job to him once, and he had cursed and slammed out of the house, coming back to the room only when he was so drunk he could barely walk.
    He had been forced to sell most of his fine clothes—and hers as well. He kept only two good suits, putting one of them on each night before he went to the tables or the races. The diamond ring he had worn on his left hand was gone, replaced by a cheap imitation stone. Helplessly Rebekah watched their possessions being sold off, little by little, and now they had reached the end. There was nothing left to sell. The apartment that had replaced the house was luxurious next to the places they had later moved to. Now they were cooped up in one tiny room on the second floor of a shabby hotel in one of the worst sections of the Bowery.
    “Have to eat crackers this morning, I’m afraid,” Rebekah said, trying to sound cheerful. “We’ve got some of thatblackberry jam you like so much, though—it’ll taste good on anything.” They had only one small table beside the bed. She put his plate and coffee on it, then got her own plate and sat down in the other chair. “The snow’s beautiful, isn’t it? We never had snow much in Virginia—not like this, anyway. . . .”
    She tried to get him to talk, but he only finished his breakfast quickly, then lit up a cigar and picked up a week-old newspaper. “Cold enough to freeze hell over!” was his only comment. She ate more slowly, watching him. She could not help but notice how the man had deteriorated. He had been one of the most fastidious men she had ever known, but no more. He had not shaved in two days and there was, of course, no way to bathe in the single room. His fingernails were ragged and dirt grimed the creases of his hands. He had been in the habit of going to a barber shop twice a week, but now his black hair was stiff with a cheap oil, and hung scruffily on the back of his neck.
    What concerned her more than his physical appearance was his loss of spirit; she had not heard him laugh in weeks. Day by day he got up, left the hotel, and came home only when he was too tired and drunk to do anything else. There was none of the exuberance and forceful determination that he had possessed when they had met. Hard times had pared him down, leaving him fearful and uncertain.
    He dressed hurriedly. “Here’s a few dollars—better see if you can get some food and wood,” he instructed, then stalked out of the room without saying goodbye. She went to the window and watched as he made his way down the street, struggling through the deep drifts.
    She looked at the money, and tried to think of how best to spend it, but there was no way to make the money stretch that far. She dressed, then huddled over the dying fire, savoring the last warmth. By ten o’clock, the room was unbearably cold, so she put on her warmest clothes and left for the library, which had become her refuge against loneliness. It was nowa refuge against the cold as well, and she looked forward to the heat radiating from the huge stoves, well-stoked with oak.
    The sun was out, but by the time she completed the hour’s walk to the library, she was exhausted and chilled to the bone. The shop owners had cleared off some of the snow from the sidewalks immediately in front of their establishments, but Rebekah’s feet were soaked from wading through the deep drifts between shops.
    She entered the large Grecian building with a sigh, going at once to warm herself beside one of the stoves. Her legs were trembling with fatigue, and Mr. Mayberry, one