"You don't look it. I think there's a play in that book."
"So do I."
"Did you ever write a play?"
"No, but I've helped on several plays. I know a great deal about them," she assured him.
"Do you? Well, that's more than I do. Any of the plays that you have helped on been produced?"
"That isn't fair of you," she protested. "I should have boasted about it if they had."
"A skilled playwright could take the heart of your story and build up a clever comedy."
"Could we have Richard Bennett, Marguerite Clarke, and Albert Bruning play the parts?"
"Oh, ho, you've got it all cast, have you?"
She nodded.
"And I know just the man to make the play."
"Do you? So do I. Whom do you choose?"
"Jarvis Jocelyn."
"Jarvis Jocelyn? Who's he?"
"He's a young playwright. He hasn't had anything produced yet, but he's extremely clever, and I do so want him to have the chance."
"Jarvis Jocelyn! Seems as though I had heard that name. Oh, your name is Jocelyn," he added. "Is this a relative?"
"Sort of—husband."
"Husband? So you're married?" in surprise.
"Yes. If you don't mind, I think I'll have to tell you some personal history."
"Go ahead. I wish I could think where I had heard that fellow's name."
"He submitted a play to you, called 'Success.' "
"What—the cab-driver? You mean to say you're married to the cab-driver?"
"Cab-driver?"
"The 'Success' fellow came in here, in a long coat and a top hat. Said he was driving a hansom to help a friend and incidentally turn a penny himself. Big, handsome, blond fellow. I remember, I liked him."
Surprise, pain, then understanding, flashed across her face, and somehow the manager knew that he had betrayed a secret to her and that it hurt. She controlled herself quickly, and answered him.
"Yes, that was Jarvis. We were married last spring, and we both set out on a career. I kept mine a secret, and just by luck I succeeded. But Jarvis"—here her eyes filled with tears—"you've no idea how hard it is to be a playwright! Everybody thinks what a snap it is to collect royalties when you are a Broadway favourite, but they don't know all those terrible days and nights before you get there, and what it means if you never do get there."
"I know," he nodded. "So you want to give this fellow the chance to make this play?"
"I want to more than I ever wanted anything in my life."
"Well, well!" he said, in surprise at her earnestness.
"I want you to send for him, give him the commission, and never mention me."
"Why not?"
"I do not want him to know that I had anything to do with it."
"He doesn't know you wrote the book?"
"No."
"And you're married to him, you say?"
She nodded.
"Upon my word, you're a queer pair! Are you Francesca, and is he the musician of the story?"
"Well, they are based on us, rather."
He laughed.
"Dear, kind Mr. Frohman, will you do this?"
"I told the fellow to try his hand at a comedy. He might handle this, if we could hold him down. Awful preacher, isn't he?"
"He's young," she answered patronizingly. The manager covered a smile.
"Won't he recognize himself and you in the book?"
"I think not. He's so unobserving, and he does not suspect me at all. He'll never know."
"You may have to work with him on the play."
"Oh, he'll appeal to me for help. He always does. We will do it together, only he will not know about the author."
"You will have to come to rehearsals."
"I'll come as wife of the playwright, or co-author."
"You've got it all thought out, haven't you?"
"I have."
"Sounds like a farce plot to me. Give me my instructions again. You want me to send for him, tell him to make a play out of this book——"
She smiled and nodded.
"Suppose he asks me who the author is?"
"You could say that she insisted upon preserving her anonymity."
"What else do I do?"
"That's all."
"If this is your idea of a short interview with God, you certainly make good in dictating his policy to him!"
Bambi's laughter rippled and sang.
"But you will do it?"
"I'll make a start by calling the cabby."
She rose and held out her hand.
"I'm so glad you're like this," she said. "I shall love doing things with you."
"Much obliged. I'm glad you came in. You'll probably hear from one of us as to the next move in the matter. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye and thanks, Mr. God."
His laugh followed her out. He sat for several minutes thinking about her and her plan. He recalled Jarvis's fine, unconscious exit at the time of his interview. He rang for a boy, and demanded Jarvis's address.
Bambi walked out, treading on air. She had won her point. She had got Jarvis his chance. She thought it all out—the coming of Frohman's letter, his joy over the commission, how he would announce it to her. She laughed aloud, so that several people turned to look at her and a man slowed up and fell in step.
She went into a tea-shop to have tea, calm down, and decide on the next step. Would she stay over-night, summoning Jarvis to meet her next day, or should she go home on the night train and not see him at all? Could she bear to see his face with the imprint of poverty and discouragement? He had been so reduced as to be forced to drive a cab, she might even meet him on the avenue! No, she would go home to-night, and let Jarvis come to her with news of his victory.
So she surprised the Professor at breakfast.
"Morning!" she cried.
"Bambi! We didn't expect you so soon."
"I finished what I had to do, so here I am."
"And Jarvis?"
"Oh, he's well."
"Was he surprised to see you?"
"Very."
"Is he getting on?"
"Slowly. But he will win."
"If he can learn to be practical——"
"He's learning," said Bambi, grimly.
"When is he coming home?"
"He did not say."
"Nobody buys his plays yet?"
"Not yet."
"I'm not surprised. That woman, you know, in the play he read us——"
"Don't talk about her till I get my breakfast."
He looked at her in surprise, she was so seldom irritated. She rang for Ardelia.
"Why, Miss Bambi, honey! I didn't see yo' all comin'."
"Here I am, and hungry, too."
"How's Mistah Jarvis?"
"All right. Breakfast, Ardelia, I perish."
"Did you have a successful trip?" inquired her father.
"I did, very."
"How did you find Babylon?"
"As Babylonish as ever."
She seemed strangely disinclined for conversation, so her wise parent left her to her meditations and her breakfast. But he patted her as he passed to go out.
"We're glad to have you back, my daughter."
She brushed his cheek with her lips, understandingly.
"God's in his heaven! All's right with the world!" carrolled Bambi gayly the next day.
She wrote Mr. Strong of her interview with Mr. Frohman and its happy outcome. It gave her some satisfaction to announce that the manager was willing to entrust Jarvis with the play. She explained that she was obliged to come home on the night train, so she had missed the pleasure of seeing him. Would he see that Mr. Frohman had the first bound copy of the book?
She added that she was happy, but it was superfluous. It sang itself through the note, so that Strong patted the paper, as he finished it, as if it were a personal belonging of the sender.
The letter finished, she mounted the stairs to Jarvis's house, as she always called the top floor. She wandered about, comparing it with that place of confinement where he now dwelt. To-day he would write or telegraph to her his news, if he had the interview with Frohman.
She began work on the play, up in his study. She outlined the main plot, marked scenes in the book she thought vital, scraps of conversation which would be effective. She planned the sets for the different acts, even deciding upon Francesca's clothes. Ever and anon, in the midst of her happy scheming, she fell to dreaming of the days to come, with Jarvis home again, and their work together resumed.
Whenever the doorbell rang she stopped and waited for Ardelia's heavy foot upon the stairs as she toiled up with the telegram or special delivery. But the morning passed, plus half the afternoon, with no word from him. She went down to the post-office herself in the hope that the late mail would reward her. There was nothing for her.
The next day brought only a note from Strong congratulating her enthusiastically, and prophesying a great success for the Jocelyn family. She spent a restless day waiting for the postman, afraid to leave the house for fear she would miss a wire. She grew so nervous that she scolded Ardelia and fussed at the Professor. Night found her entirely discouraged. Something had happened. Frohman had changed his mind, or Jarvis had refused. She had known all along that it was too good to be true. She tossed all night, sleepless, her mind running around like a squirrel in a trap, planning another trip to see the manager.
The early morning found her pacing the paths of the frostbitten garden, where the Professor found her later.
"Why, good morning, Bambi mia," said he, in surprise.
"Good day, Herr Vater!"
"What brings you forth so early, lady-bird?"
"My hateful thoughts! Oh, daddy, there's a crick in the secret."
"A crick? Dear me, what a pity!"
"If it doesn't get itself straightened out to-day, I shall go to New York again, to see what I can do."
"The companionship of a secret is often corruptive to good habits, such as sleep and appetite. Better tell me this mystery."
"If it isn't settled to-day, I will tell you."
"Very good."
"These late asters are hardy things?"
"Yes. The rest of the poor beds are full of ghosts."
"Ghosts always stalk, don't they?"
He looked at her in concern. "You are upset," he said, and they both laughed.
She followed him about for an hour, talking, watching his exact, methodical movements. The early morning air was keen, in spite of the sun. When the postman appeared on the block she ran to the gate to meet him. He was an old friend, on the route ever since she could remember.
"Hello, Miss Bambi, you're early this morning," he called.
"I couldn't sleep for my sins. If you don't give me a letter, Mr. Ben, I'll scream."
"Go ahead!"
"You mean——"
He laughed at her discomfited face and handed her the letter. A quick glance showed the Empire Theatre in one corner. She blew him a kiss on her finger tips.
"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, dear Mr. Ben. That's it!"
"I tell you I'm a regular little Cupid. Don't know what the girls in this town would do without me," he laughed, as he trudged away. Bambi read:
"MY DEAR MRS. JOCELYN: It gives me pleasure to announce that Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn has almost agreed to accept the commission. I think he feels that it is condescension on his part, but he accepts conditionally. He carried off the copies of the magazine to read your story, and he is to give me his answer to-day. As I am sure of a favourable one, I think we may consider the matter settled."Hoping that this meets with your entire approval,"I am, faithfully,CHARLES FROHMAN."P.S. I told him that I understood the author was an unhappy wife, who desired to be unknown."
"MY DEAR MRS. JOCELYN: It gives me pleasure to announce that Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn has almost agreed to accept the commission. I think he feels that it is condescension on his part, but he accepts conditionally. He carried off the copies of the magazine to read your story, and he is to give me his answer to-day. As I am sure of a favourable one, I think we may consider the matter settled.
"Hoping that this meets with your entire approval,
"I am, faithfully,
CHARLES FROHMAN.
"P.S. I told him that I understood the author was an unhappy wife, who desired to be unknown."
The Professor looked up as Bambi pirouetted around the beds, waving a fluttering white sheet in good melodrama style.
"This letter that I longed for, it has come!" she sang, lifting a pointed toe over the top of a withered sunflower stalk.
"My dear, that ballet step is a trifle exaggerated for a lady!"
"The sunflower's dead, so it couldn't be shocked. The secret is working fine. Oh, I'm so happy, I'm so happy!" she trilled, and whirled off toward the house.
"If you are still thinking of a career, why not a whirling dervish?" called her father.
She stopped, and turned to him.
"Career? Career, did you say, for stupid little me?"
"I never called you stupid," he protested.
"I should hope not. I'm the smartest child you ever had!" she cried as a period to their discourse.
All day she waited for word from Jarvis and none came. She could have cried with disappointment. Could he have been insane enough to refuse, after he had read the story? Or did he think she was indifferent to his good fortune? She went to bed determined to write him on the morrow.
The morning mail brought a second letter from the Empire Theatre. It contained a line from Mr. Frohman, "He accepts," and an enclosure. This proved to be a letter from Jarvis:
"To the Author of 'Francesca,' care of Mr. Frohman, Empire Theatre, New York."MY DEAR MADAM: Mr. Charles Frohman has given me your story 'Francesca' to read, with a view to making it into a play. Of course you are familiar with his plans in this respect. He has offered to entrust me with the dramatization, and I have consented to accept, on the condition that both you and he will allow me to use my own discretion in the work, and not hamper me by superimposing your own ideas and desires. When I have finished all I can do with it, I will then try to incorporate any ideas you may have in the final version."I think the story very charming, the characters interesting. The part of the musician seems to me rather fantastic, but I suppose there are such men. The girl, Francesca, is delightful; the old fiddler, a fine study."You are to be congratulated on your work, and I trust I may be able to make as good a play as you have made a book."Very truly yours,"JARVIS JOCELYN."
"To the Author of 'Francesca,' care of Mr. Frohman, Empire Theatre, New York.
"MY DEAR MADAM: Mr. Charles Frohman has given me your story 'Francesca' to read, with a view to making it into a play. Of course you are familiar with his plans in this respect. He has offered to entrust me with the dramatization, and I have consented to accept, on the condition that both you and he will allow me to use my own discretion in the work, and not hamper me by superimposing your own ideas and desires. When I have finished all I can do with it, I will then try to incorporate any ideas you may have in the final version.
"I think the story very charming, the characters interesting. The part of the musician seems to me rather fantastic, but I suppose there are such men. The girl, Francesca, is delightful; the old fiddler, a fine study.
"You are to be congratulated on your work, and I trust I may be able to make as good a play as you have made a book.
"Very truly yours,
"JARVIS JOCELYN."
Bambi chuckled as she read, and patted the part which praised her. Whatever else had happened, Jarvis's dignity was still intact. He calmly told the author to keep her hands off her own book! She flew to the typewriter to answer him.
"Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn, care of Mr. Charles Frohman, Empire Theatre, New York."MY DEAR MR. JOCELYN: Your letter in regard to the dramatization of my book, 'Francesca,' seems to demand immediate assurance that you will have free rein in the work you are to do. Mr. Frohman has told me something of you and of your work, and I shall be very happy if my story gives you your first opportunity to succeed as a playwright."I am glad you are pleased with my story. Did you know that it was my first one? Your comment on the character of the musician interested me, as it is a close portrait of a friend."Trusting that we may work together to a successful end, I am"Sincerely,"THE AUTHOR."P.S. For private reasons I prefer to remain unknown to you. You can always reach me through Mr. Frohman's office. You must forgive typed letters."
"Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn, care of Mr. Charles Frohman, Empire Theatre, New York.
"MY DEAR MR. JOCELYN: Your letter in regard to the dramatization of my book, 'Francesca,' seems to demand immediate assurance that you will have free rein in the work you are to do. Mr. Frohman has told me something of you and of your work, and I shall be very happy if my story gives you your first opportunity to succeed as a playwright.
"I am glad you are pleased with my story. Did you know that it was my first one? Your comment on the character of the musician interested me, as it is a close portrait of a friend.
"Trusting that we may work together to a successful end, I am
"Sincerely,
"THE AUTHOR.
"P.S. For private reasons I prefer to remain unknown to you. You can always reach me through Mr. Frohman's office. You must forgive typed letters."
This she sent to the Frohman office, with a request that it be forwarded. The next day brought Jarvis's news:
"DEAR BAMBI: For three days I have resisted the constant temptation to send you word of what seemed to be extraordinarily good news, but many disappointments have made me a doubting Thomas, so I held off until I was really sure. To begin at the beginning, I was at the lowest ebb of disgust with myself last week for my inability to get in step with the grand march. Only a fool can be excused for failure, and I am not that. So a summons from the Frohman office somewhat restored my self-respect. It seems that Mr. Frohman has never forgotten my previous interview, so when he decided to make a play of a popular novel entitled 'Francesca,' he immediately thought of me."Of course this is not the kind of play I want to do, so I said I would look over the book and if I liked it I would have a try at it. The long and the short of it is I have accepted. The woman who wrote the thing has promised to keep out of it. She seems to be a nice kind of person, but for some reason wants to make a mystery of herself. Frohman hints at a domestic tragedy as her reason. I'm sure I do not care about her private affairs."She has written a clever and delightful book. The heroine, oddly enough called Francesca, suggests you in places, except that she is a more practical sort than you are. The hero, a musician, is a sort of sublimated madman. The best character of all is an old fiddler. There is a play in it. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced of that."Would you care to help me on it? Both of our names could go on the bill. I have come to know, these last months, since I have been working at things here alone, how much the growth in my work is due to you. The human touch you have given my characters, or helped me to give them, is the essential element in my improvement. You started a good many wires to jangling that spring day when you indulged your mad impulse to marry an impossibility!"Regards to the Professor."Yours,"JARVIS."
"DEAR BAMBI: For three days I have resisted the constant temptation to send you word of what seemed to be extraordinarily good news, but many disappointments have made me a doubting Thomas, so I held off until I was really sure. To begin at the beginning, I was at the lowest ebb of disgust with myself last week for my inability to get in step with the grand march. Only a fool can be excused for failure, and I am not that. So a summons from the Frohman office somewhat restored my self-respect. It seems that Mr. Frohman has never forgotten my previous interview, so when he decided to make a play of a popular novel entitled 'Francesca,' he immediately thought of me.
"Of course this is not the kind of play I want to do, so I said I would look over the book and if I liked it I would have a try at it. The long and the short of it is I have accepted. The woman who wrote the thing has promised to keep out of it. She seems to be a nice kind of person, but for some reason wants to make a mystery of herself. Frohman hints at a domestic tragedy as her reason. I'm sure I do not care about her private affairs.
"She has written a clever and delightful book. The heroine, oddly enough called Francesca, suggests you in places, except that she is a more practical sort than you are. The hero, a musician, is a sort of sublimated madman. The best character of all is an old fiddler. There is a play in it. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced of that.
"Would you care to help me on it? Both of our names could go on the bill. I have come to know, these last months, since I have been working at things here alone, how much the growth in my work is due to you. The human touch you have given my characters, or helped me to give them, is the essential element in my improvement. You started a good many wires to jangling that spring day when you indulged your mad impulse to marry an impossibility!
"Regards to the Professor.
"Yours,
"JARVIS."
Bambi went to the telegraph office and wired him:
"Congratulations. Of course I'll help! Come home."BAMBI."
"Congratulations. Of course I'll help! Come home.
"BAMBI."
He answered, by letter, that he thought it best to stay on until Mr. Frohman and the author were both satisfied with the framework of the play. Then he would come, most gladly, to work in the old study. He would submit his ideas for a scenario the next day or so.
From that moment the fun began for Bambi. He wrote daily about the outline, and weekly letters to the author were forwarded to her from the Frohman office. These she answered, disguised as the author, with many a chuckle of amusement. A sort of friendliness crept into these letters as they increased in number.
Christmas week arrived with no definite assurance from Jarvis as to his plans, but Bambi was confident that he would be at home for the holiday. Professor Parkhurst demanded daily bulletins of his son-in-law's intentions, while Ardelia bemoaned and bewailed lest he fail to return.
The day before Kris Kringle was due a white snow descended like a benediction. Bambi and the Professor sat before a huge, crackling fire in the library. She was restless as a spirit. She sat at the piano and sang "O Lonely Pine Tree Standing," until the Professor objected.
"Sing something gay, my child."
God rest ye, merry gentleman,Let nothing ye dismay,For Jesus Christ, the Saviour,Was born on Christmas Day,"
she sang gladly.
All at once her hands fell silent on the keys, while she stared at the doorway a full second before she rose. Jarvis stood there looking at her. He was powdered with snowflakes. He held his soft hat crushed against him, showing his hair, glistening with snow, and curled close to his head with dampness. It was his face that focussed her attention. The old proud carriage of the head was there, but an asking look had come into his eyes and mouth in place of the old arrogance. In the second she hesitated she saw all this—caught the glow and the beauty of him, as well as the appeal.
"Jarvis!" she cried, and met him halfway across the room, both hands out.
"Bambi!" he answered her huskily, and she knew that he was moved at the sight of her. He crushed her hands in his, and drank her in, from her shining eyes to her boots, oblivious to the startled Professor, who stood looking on.
"Welcome home!" said Bambi, unsteadily.
"Did you come through the roof?" inquired Professor Parkhurst.
"I had a passkey. How are you?" Jarvis laughed, mangling the Professor's hand. The latter rescued and inspected his limp fingers.
"I am well, but I shall never use that hand again."
"You have come home," said Bambi, foolishly.
"I have. My, but it's good to be here! I got Frohman's approval on the framework of the play to-day, and ran for the first train."
"Does the author approve, too?"
"She does. She is more or less a figurehead, but she seems reasonable."
"Oh, Jarvis, you're a nice Christmas present. Go put these wet things in the hall, call on Ardelia, and come back. It will take at least a week to say all the things I want to say to you."
He smiled at her, and marched off to do her bidding.
"He looks fine, doesn't he? I never realized before how handsome he is," said the Professor.
"He's thrilling!" replied Bambi.
Her father inspected her thoughtfully.
"What a talent you have for hitting people off! That is just it: he thrills you with a feeling of youth and power."
"Plus some new and softer quality," added Bambi, as if to herself.
The powwow in the kitchen could be heard all over the house, Ardelia welcoming home the Prodigal Son. It was only after long argument he escaped the fatted calf. She could not conceive of him except as hungry after many months in the heathen city.
When he came back into the library he swept with his eyes its caressing harmony of colour, tone, and atmosphere. He had never noticed it before. The Professor's beautiful profile, like a fine steel engraving, thrown into high relief by the lamplight, seemed a part of it. The vibrant little figure on the hearth rug, in a flame-coloured gown, was the high note that gave it all climax. His mind swept the gamut of dirty hall bedrooms, back to this, and the sigh with which he sank into the big couch caught Bambi's amused attention.
"It was satisfaction," he assured her. "For the first time in my life, I've got the home feeling."
She nodded understandingly. Her mind, too, swept up those dirty stairs, peeped into the cell, and flew back, singing.
The Professor moved over beside Jarvis, and the wander tales began. Bambi fluttered about like a scarlet tanager, tantalizing Jarvis with a desire to catch her in his hand and hold her still.
At eleven the Professor said good night. Immediately Bambi led the talk to their proposed work, and held it there, firmly, until midnight chimed. Jarvis told her of the sale of the "Street Songs" to Strong's magazine, and announced that one hundred dollars of it was to be set down in the Black Maria account. She laughed and congratulated him.
Finally she rose.
"Your rooms are always ready for you, so I do not need to go up and see about them. A Merry Christmas, Jarvis Jocelyn."
He laid his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. He thought he felt her tremble under his touch, but her glance was as frank and emotionless as a boy's.
"A Merry Christmas to you, Miss Mite," he answered, with a sigh. She laughed, unexpectedly patted his cheek with her hand, and ran upstairs.
Christmas day in the little house was a real celebration. It was the first one in the Jocelyns' married life, and the entire household entered into the spirit of Yuletide with enthusiasm. At Bambi's suggestion, they hid the presents all over the house. The subsequent search and discovery were carried on with much laughter and shouting. Ardelia's delight over her gifts was vocal and extreme. The Professor continually forgot which presents were his, and collected every one else's into his pile, from which the owner laughingly rescued them. A pair of silk stockings for Bambi which he absent-mindedly appropriated caused much mirth.
Jarvis's gift to Bambi was a dull gold chain, hung with tassels of baroque pearls, an exquisite feminine bauble.
"Oh, Jarvis, how charming! It's like a lovely lady's happy tears!" she exclaimed.
He blushed happily.
"I thought it looked like you."
"A thousand thanks! Fasten the clasp for me."
He fumbled it awkwardly, but with final success. She turned for inspection, her eyes avid for praise. He nodded.
"It is where it belongs," he said.
The day passed happily. Ardelia's dinner was a Christmas poem. When the Professor complimented her on the success of everything, she replied:
"Yassuh, dis heah day been all right. But I hopes befo' nex' Chris'mus we all gwine to have some chilluns to make dis a sho' nuff pahty."
Bambi's face was scarlet, but she faced it out.
"Oh, not children, Ardelia—singular, you mean, I hope."
"No, I don't mean sing'lar. We don' want no singular chilluns. I mean jes' plain chilluns."
"The holiday seems to be peculiarly the children's day," said the Professor, unaware of the situation, and so saved it!
Thus it was that Jarvis was welcomed into the family circle again, and this time he became an integral part as he had never been before. The day after Christmas he came to Bambi with her story.
"You told me you had read this book, didn't you?"
"Yes, I've read it."
"What do you think of it?" he asked her, curiously.
"I adore it!" she replied.
He sat down beside her, gravely.
"It's a strange thing, but the book grows on you. When I first read it, I thought it was a clever little trifle. But as I work with it, I have come to see that it is remarkable in its human quality. You feel the charm of the author all through it."
"Do you?" eagerly.
"Didn't you?"
"I don't know. I loved the girl. She seemed very true to me."
"I've never known any girls except you, and I don't know you very well, but there are spots where you and the other Francesca are strikingly alike. I suppose it is not you, butfeminine. I mix them up."
"If we are to make a play of it, I am glad we both love it."
"I find myself intensely interested in the mysterious woman who wrote it. To me there is no hint in the story of the infelicity Mr. Frohman hinted at. I would like to know her."
"Don't you expect to see her when the play is finished?"
"She says she wishes me not to know her."
"But she will have to come to rehearsals?"
"I must ask her about that. Maybe she will come, then."
"You write to her?"
"Oh, yes. I have to keep her in touch with my progress."
"I thought you told her to keep out."
"I did. But she has been so agreeable about it that I decided to keep her posted as I went along."
Bambi rose.
"I've no doubt she is very fascinating," she said, coldly.
"You don't object to my interest in her?"
"Object? My dear Jarvis, you may be interested in all the women in creation without any objection from me!"
"And you have the same freedom?"
"Naturally. Now let's get to work. I was surprised at what you said about the young musician in the book. I thought he was so real."
"Strange. That is what the author said, that it was a close portrait of a near friend."
"What is it, about him, that you do not like?"
"Oh, I like him, in a way. But these reformers, idealists, thinking they can dream the world into Arcadia!"
Bambi's clear laugh startled him.
"What amuses you so?" he asked, shortly.
"I suppose I rather like the idealist type."
He looked at her closely.
"Good heavens, you don't think I'm like that, do you?"
"A little," she admitted.
"If I thought that I was that particular brand of idiot I'd learn bookkeeping and be a clerk," was the reply.
"Maybe it isn't you—maybe it is justmanI recognize."
"You can see how terribly clever the woman is—to set each of us accusing the other."
"She is just a student of types, that's all," Bambi disparaged the lady.
So they began their co-partnership. The shyness, the appeal, the new self-conscious element Bambi had sensed in Jarvis gave way to the old mental relationship as fellow workman. They had regular office hours, as they called it. They experimented to see whether they obtained the best results, when they each worked at a scene alone and went over it together for the final polishing; or when they actually worked on it in unison. Four hours in the morning they laboured, took an hour of recess after lunch, then two hours more, followed by a tramp off into the country, talking play, play, play.
These were days of keen delight to them both. They worked together so smoothly and so well. Jarvis's high-handed superiority had given way to a well-grounded respect for Bambi's quick apprehension of a false note, an unnatural line, or a bungled climax.
The first interruption came with the advent of Richard Strong to spend the weekend, and Jarvis made no comment when Bambi announced his coming and declared Saturday a holiday. He even agreed to meet their guest at the station. The two men came back together in amicable converse.
"I am so glad you could come, Richard," Bambi greeted him, in her eager way.
Jarvis started at the Christian name, and flushed angrily at Strong's reply.
"Happy New Year, Francesca!"
Richard and Francesca—so they had gone as far as that on the road to intimacy was Jarvis's hurt comment to himself.
After that he watched Strong every minute for signs of special devotion, and before the day was over he had satisfied himself that these two cared deeply for each other. The way Strong's eyes followed her every movement, the way he anticipated her wants, understood her before she spoke—they were all damning evidences of the situation. That Bambi showed herself grateful, as vividly as she did everything else, entirely escaped Jarvis. She loved him, that was the truth, and he alone stood between her and happiness.
The two days dragged by, in torment, for him. It seemed as if they would never be over, so that he might face the truth by himself, with Strong out of the picture, and decide what must be done. Bambi noticed his strained politeness to their guest, but set it down to the same inconsistency he had shown before, of being jealous of what he did not especially value himself.
Monday, after Strong's departure, she began to realize that there was a change in him. He was taciturn and moody. The work went badly. He disagreed with her at every point, and when she suggested that they stop an hour earlier than usual, he went off by himself, without asking her to go. She began to wonder whether his dislike of Strong was really serious and something to be taken cognizance of.
Jarvis strode off into the country in a state of nerves unknown before. A sleepless night and the irritation of the day's work had played their havoc with him. He went over the thing again and again. Bambi and Strong loved each other—he stood in the way. Why should he not take himself out of the situation at once? "She married me for a whim; she will unmarry me the same way," he reiterated to himself. "Why did she do it, in the first place, unless she cared something for me? But she told me she had no sentiment for me," he replied to his other self. "It was ambition that made her do it. She thought I would be famous. I've disappointed her, and she's through with me." He went over every incident of their reunion—his thrill at her welcome. "She didn't really care; it was just her way," he assured himself.
For hours he plunged through the woods, pursued by his bitter thoughts. When he turned back at last, into the garden, he knew that a precious, new-born thing, which he had brought back with him after his exile, was laid away, never to be allowed to come into full flower and maturity.
His decision was made. He temporized on one point. He would stay on until the play was produced, so that if it succeeded, as he was determined it should, Bambi would have that much satisfaction from her matrimonial experiment. Then he would let her divorce him, and he would take himself out of her life.
She was in the library when he went in. She caught sight of his face, and exclaimed:
"Jarvis, my dear, how tired you look!"
He started to go, but she detained him.
"Is anything the matter, Jarvis?"
"No, what should be the matter?"
"I don't know, but if there is anything you want to talk out with me, let's have it now. We can't afford to have any misunderstandings between us."
"There is nothing," he said, and left the room.
That night, after dinner, he sat late in his study, writing. Two days later the result of the evening's work came to Bambi:
"DEAR AUTHOR LADY: Some days ago I sent you my new address, so that you need not send letters to the theatre, but so far I have not heard from you. To-night, for some reason, I feel moved to write to you as I would wish to talk to you were you near me."I say for some reason, and yet I know the reason. It is because of your human understanding of the things that make men glad or sad. I am beginning to know that only through the ache of experience can we come to understand each other. Surely there must be something of sadness back of your life, Lady of Mystery, to give you this power."To-day I have fought out a bitter fight with myself, and I feel the loneliness that comes in a crisis, when each man of us must stand or fall, alone."The play goes ahead rapidly. As I told you, Mrs. Jocelyn and I have great satisfaction in our work on it. I am determined to wring success from it. Both for your sake and for mine, I must!"Is this personal letter distasteful to you? Do I depend too much upon your gracious understanding? If I do, say so, and I will not offend again."Faithfully,"JARVIS JOCELYN."
"DEAR AUTHOR LADY: Some days ago I sent you my new address, so that you need not send letters to the theatre, but so far I have not heard from you. To-night, for some reason, I feel moved to write to you as I would wish to talk to you were you near me.
"I say for some reason, and yet I know the reason. It is because of your human understanding of the things that make men glad or sad. I am beginning to know that only through the ache of experience can we come to understand each other. Surely there must be something of sadness back of your life, Lady of Mystery, to give you this power.
"To-day I have fought out a bitter fight with myself, and I feel the loneliness that comes in a crisis, when each man of us must stand or fall, alone.
"The play goes ahead rapidly. As I told you, Mrs. Jocelyn and I have great satisfaction in our work on it. I am determined to wring success from it. Both for your sake and for mine, I must!
"Is this personal letter distasteful to you? Do I depend too much upon your gracious understanding? If I do, say so, and I will not offend again.
"Faithfully,
"JARVIS JOCELYN."
Bambi read this letter over and over again, behind the locked door of her bedroom. What did it all mean? What was the bitter fight that drove Jarvis to this other woman for solace? How far did she dare draw him out on it, without offending her own sense of fitness? Had this innocent plot of hers, to startle him into amazed admiration, led them both into a labyrinth of misunderstanding?
She answered Jarvis's letter and sent it to the theatre, asking them to forward it:
"DEAR MR. JOCELYN: Your letter touched me very much in its appeal for my sympathy and understanding. I am regretful that sorrow has found you out. I think of you always as young and strong and happy, with a young wife, and the world before you. I hate to have you spoil my picture."I repeat my satisfaction that you and your wife enjoy your work on 'Francesca.' I found such happiness myself in doing her, that I like to think we share the pleasure between us, we three."Is it your own ambition that drives you so that you say 'I must,' in regard to success? Sometimes, if we set our hearts too much on a thing, our very determination thwarts us. Is it not so? Perhaps it is for the sake of some one else that you are so eager for accomplishment. I feel that it is to come to you in this play, and I am glad."Be of good cheer, Comrade. Even the memory of bitter fights grows dim. I will not think of you as daunted by anything life can offer. No, nor death. Why have I this confidence in you, I wonder?"In all friendliness,"THE LADY OF MYSTERY."
"DEAR MR. JOCELYN: Your letter touched me very much in its appeal for my sympathy and understanding. I am regretful that sorrow has found you out. I think of you always as young and strong and happy, with a young wife, and the world before you. I hate to have you spoil my picture.
"I repeat my satisfaction that you and your wife enjoy your work on 'Francesca.' I found such happiness myself in doing her, that I like to think we share the pleasure between us, we three.
"Is it your own ambition that drives you so that you say 'I must,' in regard to success? Sometimes, if we set our hearts too much on a thing, our very determination thwarts us. Is it not so? Perhaps it is for the sake of some one else that you are so eager for accomplishment. I feel that it is to come to you in this play, and I am glad.
"Be of good cheer, Comrade. Even the memory of bitter fights grows dim. I will not think of you as daunted by anything life can offer. No, nor death. Why have I this confidence in you, I wonder?
"In all friendliness,
"THE LADY OF MYSTERY."
The day this letter came to Jarvis marked a change in him to Bambi's watchful eye. He threw himself with renewed ardour into the work. For the first time in many days they walked together, and he seemed more himself than he had been since Strong's unfortunate visit. Was it the effect of this letter? He was beginning to be easily influenced by this supposed stranger! The idea was too fantastic.
"What kind of a woman do you imagine the author of 'Francesca' to be?" she asked him as they trudged along a wintry road. He started a little, she thought.
"I scarcely know," he evaded. "I always think of her as tall and thin and frail, with a rather sad face, white, with humorous gray eyes, and a sensitive mouth."
"I always think of her as little and fat and cuddly."
"Oh, not cuddly!" he protested.
She laughed.
"Any news from her lately?"
"Yes. I had a letter to-day."
"Did you ask if she was coming to rehearsals?"
"Not yet."
"Haven't you any curiosity about her?"
"In a way, yes. But I respect her desire in the matter."
"I don't. If I could get it out of Richard Strong who she is, I'd go look her up in a minute."
"Have you tried?" eagerly.
"He won't tell. He's the King of Clams."
"He has no right to tell."
"It is very smart of her to work up all this mystery about herself. No doubt she is a wobbly old fatty, instead of the Beatrice you think her."
He made no answer, but she saw by his face how he resented it.
A wicked design grew in Bambi's mind. She would make Jarvis Jocelyn fall so desperately and hopelessly in love with this dream-woman of his that she would be revenged upon him for the way he had shut her out since Strong's visit. It never once occurred to her that it was a hurt she had given him which drove him to this other woman. But the something which he had offered her the night of his return he had deliberately withdrawn, before she had a chance to accept or refuse it. Well, here was a chance to punish him and she would take it.
From the day of her resolve absolute impersonality characterized their relations during Work hours. Sometimes they walked together; sometimes Bambi went alone or made visits to her friends. Jarvis felt more and more her withdrawal from him. He attributed it to her increased affection for Strong and a consequent abhorrence of her husband's presence.
One morning she announced that she was going to New York for the day.
"But we were to work on the big climax to-day," Jarvis protested.
"You work at it. You can do it without me," she said, airily.
"You are as tired of the play as you are of me," said Jarvis earnestly.
"Absurd. I am much interested in the play and I am not tired of you."
"Shall you see Strong?"
"Yes. I shall spend part of the day with him. Did you wish to send him a message?"
"It wouldn't be fit for you to carry," he answered, fiercely.
"Richard is not your favourite companion, is he?" she tantalized.
"He is not!"
"Sorry. I am very fond of him."
"That does not need saying."
"I have never tried to disguise it."
"No, I should say you were both frank about it."
"Why shouldn't we be, Jarvis?" said Bambi with irritation.
"Exactly. Why shouldn't you be?"
"You naturally cannot expect to regulate or choose my friends."
"I expect nothing."
"Then I would be obliged to you if you made your dislike of my friend a trifle less conspicuous."
"If you will let me know when he is expected, I will always go elsewhere."
It was the first hint of disagreement that had ever occurred between them, and Bambi took the train to New York with a disagreeable taste in her mouth. She was going for a conference with Strong about the book, which had got a splendid start in the holiday sales. He had some plans to feature it in various conspicuous ways, so that it might advertise the play.
Arrived in Grand Central Station, she wired Jarvis, "Sorry was horrid about Strong," just to make her self-esteem less flat. Then she went to Strong's office. He greeted her in his cordial way, only his eyes admitting his joy at sight of her.
"It is good to see you," he said.
"You won't like me. I'm utterly detestable to-day. I was nasty to Jarvis, and cross with Ardelia."
"I can't imagine you either nasty or cross."
"Me? Oh, I scratch and spit and bite!"
"You are the most human person I ever encountered," he laughed.
"Be nice to me, and I may cheer up."
"I shall try. I have news about the sale of the book that ought to cheer a tombstone. I think we have a best-seller on our hands."
"I'm not a bit ashamed of it."
"Why should you be?"
"Aren't you a literary pariah, if you're a best-seller?"
He laughed.
"How is the play coming on?"
"Pretty well, I think. We're up to the climax of the second act. Jarvis is working on it to-day."
"Still no suspicion of you?"
"Not a grain. I think he's falling in love with the author of 'Francesca,' though."
"How?"
"Through their letters."
"You certainly have a talent for comedy," he laughed, and added, gravely, "I thought Jocelyn had always been in love with the author of 'Francesca'?"
"No-o."
"I have always known that the author of 'Francesca' cared about Jarvis."
"You must have dreamed that, Richard. Poor old Jarvis! Sometimes I think I will confess. Maybe I have no right to make game of him this way."
"Doesn't he suspect your style in your letters? I would know a letter from you, no matter what the circumstances."
"Oh, I don't write like myself. I write like an author. I found out what he thought she looked like, and I write tall, pale, sensitive-mouthed kind of letters, with a hint of sadness."
"You imp!" he laughed.
"Improves my style. You ought to be glad. Let's hear about the plans for the book."
They settled down to discussing advertising plans, which kept them busy until late afternoon. When the last detail was settled, Bambi rose with a sigh.
"Whew! That was a long siege. Like Corp in 'Sentimental Tommy,' it makes me sweat to think."
"I should not have kept it up so long. I forget you are not used to this drill," he apologized.
"I think I'll live. Remember the first time I came to see you?"
"Perfectly."
"Wasn't I scared?"
"Were you?"
"You were so kind and fatherly."
"Fatherly?" he said.
"What lots of things have happened to me since then," she mused.
"And to me," said Richard, under his breath.
"Heigho! Life is a bubble."
"You'll feel better after a cup of tea. Where shall we go?"
"Let's walk up to the Plaza."
"Done," said he, closing his desk.
It was a cold, crisp day, which stimulated the blood like a cocktail. Bambi breathed deep as she tried to fall in step with her companion.
"I can't keep step with you. I'm too little and my skirt's too tight."
"I'll keep step with you, my lady."
"Mercy, don't try. Jarvis says I hop along like a grasshopper."
"I resent that. Your free, swaying walk is one of your charms. You always make me think of a wind-blown flower."
She looked up at him, radiantly.
"Richard, you say the charmingest things!"
"Francesca, you do inspire them."
"I'm a vain little peacock, and Jarvis never notices how I look."
"Too bad to mate a peacock and an owl."
A brilliant sunset bathed the avenue in a red, gold light. The steady procession of motors, taxis, and hansom cabs made its slow way uptown. The shop windows blazed in their most seductive moments. The sidewalks were crowded with smart men; fashionable women swathed in magnificent furs; slim, little pink-cheeked girls. All of them made their way up the broad highroad toward home or tea, as the case might be.
"Oh, you blessed fleshpots, how I adore you!"
"Referring to the men or the women?"
"Naughty Richard! I mean all the luxury and sensuousness which New York represents."
"You hungry little beggar, how you do eat up your sensations!"
"They give me indigestion sometimes."
The foyer of the Plaza was like a reception. The tea-room was a-clatter and a-clack with tongues.
"Like the clatter of sleek little squirrels," said Bambi, as she followed the head-waiter to their table.
Her comments on people about them, the nicknames she donated to them, convulsed Strong. He would never again see that pompous head-waiter except as "Papa Pouter!"
"Would you get tired of it if you were here all the time?"
"I suppose so. It is all so alike. The women all look alike, and the men, and the waiters. If you dropped through the ceiling, you could hardly tell whether you were in the Ritz, the Plaza, the Manhattan, or the Knickerbocker. You would know it was New York—that's all."
"What train do you take to-night, or shall you stay over?"
"I shall go on the 11:50, if you'll play with me until then."
He smiled at her affectation.
"Suppose we try another kind of crowd to-night, and dine at the Lafayette."
"Delighted! I've never been there."
"It's jolly. You'll like it, I think."
"Where is it?"
"Way downtown—University Place. What shall we do between now and dinner-time?"
"Let's walk down."
"Oh, that's a long walk."
"But I love to walk, unless it is too much for you."
"Sheer impudence!"
The walk was one never to be forgotten by Strong. To have Bambi all to himself, to look forward to hours of such bliss, to have her swinging along beside him, laughing and chattering, now and again laying her hand on his arm in confident friendliness—it was intoxicating.
By sheer force of will he kept his hand on the throttle of his emotions. One look, one false move, would ruin it all. He knew, without any doubts that she did not love him. He even told himself she loved Jocelyn. He knew that he must make himself a valuable friend and not an undesired lover, but his want of her was great, and his fury at Jarvis's indifference white hot. She caught his set look.
"Richard!"
He turned his eyes on her.
"You're tired of me. I won't talk any more."
He drew her hand through his arm, and held her there.
"Don't say that sort of thing, please; it isn't fair."
"Take it back."
The Lafayette filled her with excitement. They had a table on a raised balcony overlooking the main dining-room. Richard pointed out celebrities, bowed to many friends, talked charming personalities. A feast of Lucullus was served them. Music and wine and excitement bewitched Bambi. She sparkled and laughed. She capped his every sally with a quick retort. She was totally different from the girl-boy who had walked downtown beside him.
"What are you thinking about me?" she challenged him, her head tipped back provokingly.
"Daughter of Joy!"
"I have spent a very pleasant fortnight with you, Richard!"
"Has it seemed that long?"
"Since I left Sunnyside this morning? Quite."
"How many personalities have you been since then?"
"Oh, not nearly all my mes."
"Protean artist?"
"Headliner," she nodded.
They drank to the success of the play. Later, as he stood beside her in the car, a few minutes before she was to leave, she put her hand in his.
"I've had the loveliest time," she said. "You are the most accomplished playmate I ever had."
"It has been a happy day."
"Come to Sunnyside soon."
The train began to move out and he hurried to get off. She waved to him from the window. She was tired, so she went to bed at once, with never a dream of the emptiness her small presence left in New York for the "Playmate."
"What luck did you have with the climax, yesterday?" she asked Jarvis, next day, as she came into the workroom.
"None at all. I worked all day, and tore it up last night."
"Oh, why did you do that?"
"It was hopeless. If you wanted to teach me how vital you are to this work, you did it."
"Such a thing never entered my mind."
"Shall we begin at it now?"
"Of course. I'm keen to get at it."
She plunged into the situation and swept all obstacles before her. The entire reaction from yesterday's pleasure and change went into her work. Lunch-time came as a shock, the morning had fled so fast. Jarvis sighed as he piled up the pages.
"You work like an electric dynamo," he remarked.
"I always work better after a happy vacation. Why don't you run off for a day, to get your breath, as it were?"
"Where would I run to?"
"You might go look up the author-lady you're so interested in," she remarked, wickedly.
He made no answer to that.
The noon mail brought Bambi's latest letter from Jarvis. All mail was brought immediately to her, so she had a chance to extract the telltale letters. Jarvis wrote:
"DEAR LADY: Your letters are fast becoming a necessity to me. I look for them as eagerly as a boy. I find myself more and more absorbed in the 'Francesca' of your fancy, whom I feel sure is the essence of you. Is it not so?"I am bitterly unhappy these days—lonely, as I have never been before. The emotional side of life has always been a closed book to me, one I disdained to read. So once my heart begins to call attention to itself, I suppose the more poignant will be my experience."I have lately come back from a long exile spent in a hideous place. I brought with me the first hunger for love I had ever known. But I found no answering need in the heart I turned to. I have been thrown back on myself, to eat my heart out, because I know now that it is my own fault. If I had tried sooner to make myself a lover, I would not have to resign that place to another man."Why do I pour these personal sorrows upon you, my Lady of Sympathy? I am heartsick for comfort."Yours,"J."
"DEAR LADY: Your letters are fast becoming a necessity to me. I look for them as eagerly as a boy. I find myself more and more absorbed in the 'Francesca' of your fancy, whom I feel sure is the essence of you. Is it not so?
"I am bitterly unhappy these days—lonely, as I have never been before. The emotional side of life has always been a closed book to me, one I disdained to read. So once my heart begins to call attention to itself, I suppose the more poignant will be my experience.
"I have lately come back from a long exile spent in a hideous place. I brought with me the first hunger for love I had ever known. But I found no answering need in the heart I turned to. I have been thrown back on myself, to eat my heart out, because I know now that it is my own fault. If I had tried sooner to make myself a lover, I would not have to resign that place to another man.
"Why do I pour these personal sorrows upon you, my Lady of Sympathy? I am heartsick for comfort.
"Yours,
"J."
Bambi laid her cheek against the poor, hurt letter, and cried.
"My poor, bungling Jarvis, how I must have hurt you!"
She read it again, and all at once light flooded in.
"Why, it's Richard, of course! He thinks I am in love with Richard! The dear old goose! He sees so little and sees that crooked."
She went in search of him, determined to tell the whole foolish story, to explain the imaginary obstacles that divided them. But he was not to be found, so the impulse died, and she determined to play the farce out to its end, and now, that she knew the core of the whole situation, she could make it count for their final readjustment.
She wrote him at once:
"MY DEAR JARVIS: At last I feel that there is truth between us. I have suspected that you were not happy in your love life. But I wanted not to pry into locked chambers. Now we can be glad of the bond that lies between us, for I, too, go heart hungry through the days."I have not spoken to you of my home, or my husband, but now that you have become such a part of my thought life, I feel no disloyalty in the truth."My husband is a man who has never felt the want of affection. He is so self-centred in his devotion to his work that I have always been shut out of his heart. At first this did not trouble me, for I was ambitious, too. But so many things have happened to develop me this last year, to awaken me to my full womanhood!"I have had to face, as you do, the ache of an unwanted love, tossed back to eat its way like a corrosive acid. Once, not long ago, I thought, perhaps, things were going to change for me. I thought he wanted me. But now I have come to know that it is to another woman he turns for sympathy and understanding."So, you see, my dear, we two have the same heart history. No wonder we have felt our way through time and space, to clasp hands in such deep affinity. I lay my hands upon your head, Jarvis."YOUR LADY."
"MY DEAR JARVIS: At last I feel that there is truth between us. I have suspected that you were not happy in your love life. But I wanted not to pry into locked chambers. Now we can be glad of the bond that lies between us, for I, too, go heart hungry through the days.
"I have not spoken to you of my home, or my husband, but now that you have become such a part of my thought life, I feel no disloyalty in the truth.
"My husband is a man who has never felt the want of affection. He is so self-centred in his devotion to his work that I have always been shut out of his heart. At first this did not trouble me, for I was ambitious, too. But so many things have happened to develop me this last year, to awaken me to my full womanhood!
"I have had to face, as you do, the ache of an unwanted love, tossed back to eat its way like a corrosive acid. Once, not long ago, I thought, perhaps, things were going to change for me. I thought he wanted me. But now I have come to know that it is to another woman he turns for sympathy and understanding.
"So, you see, my dear, we two have the same heart history. No wonder we have felt our way through time and space, to clasp hands in such deep affinity. I lay my hands upon your head, Jarvis.
"YOUR LADY."
His reply came by the first mail.
"Oh, my dear, my dear, we have found each other at last, in all truth. It was meant from the beginning of time that it should be so. Let me come to you. I cannot bear to live another hour without the touch of your hand. To think that I do not know your name, or the colour of your kind eyes! Say that I may come?"Devotedly,"JARVIS."
"Oh, my dear, my dear, we have found each other at last, in all truth. It was meant from the beginning of time that it should be so. Let me come to you. I cannot bear to live another hour without the touch of your hand. To think that I do not know your name, or the colour of your kind eyes! Say that I may come?
"Devotedly,
"JARVIS."
"JARVIS, MY BIG BOY: You may not come yet. It is part of a dream, cherished since you came to be the heart of me, that we should not come together until the night of the opening of our play. I know you will poohpooh this as sentimental nonsense. You may even call it theatrical. But let me have my way, this last one time. Afterward, my way shall be yours, beloved. Write me to say you will be patient with my foolishness!"I am afraid of our meeting. Suppose I should fall short of your ideal of me? That you should think me ugly or old, I could not bear it. I have come to know all my happiness lies in the balance of that one night, toward which we walk, you and I, every minute of every day."YOUR LADY."
"JARVIS, MY BIG BOY: You may not come yet. It is part of a dream, cherished since you came to be the heart of me, that we should not come together until the night of the opening of our play. I know you will poohpooh this as sentimental nonsense. You may even call it theatrical. But let me have my way, this last one time. Afterward, my way shall be yours, beloved. Write me to say you will be patient with my foolishness!
"I am afraid of our meeting. Suppose I should fall short of your ideal of me? That you should think me ugly or old, I could not bear it. I have come to know all my happiness lies in the balance of that one night, toward which we walk, you and I, every minute of every day.
"YOUR LADY."
His answer came, special delivery:
"It shall be as you wish, dear heart. But if anything should happen to delay the opening of the play, I think I should ask you to remit the sentence of banishment. I live only to look into your eyes!"How can you say that you may disappoint me? If you were old, humpbacked, ugly—what difference? You are mine! We must find freedom for ourselves and a new life. I adore you."JARVIS."
"It shall be as you wish, dear heart. But if anything should happen to delay the opening of the play, I think I should ask you to remit the sentence of banishment. I live only to look into your eyes!
"How can you say that you may disappoint me? If you were old, humpbacked, ugly—what difference? You are mine! We must find freedom for ourselves and a new life. I adore you.
"JARVIS."
"I wouldn't have thought it of Jarvis," said Bambi as she read it. "He makes a very creditable lover."
"My DEAR ONE: I am as impatient as you are for our meeting. I gladly agree that we shall bring it about, at once, if anything happens to postpone the play opening."What you say about being indifferent to my looks makes me happy. I shall not try you too far, my lover. I'm quite pretty and young. Did you know I was young?"You speak so confidently of freedom and a new life together. Are we to shed our old mates, like Nautilus shells? My new coming into love makes me pitiful. Must we be ruthless?"YOUR OWN."
"My DEAR ONE: I am as impatient as you are for our meeting. I gladly agree that we shall bring it about, at once, if anything happens to postpone the play opening.
"What you say about being indifferent to my looks makes me happy. I shall not try you too far, my lover. I'm quite pretty and young. Did you know I was young?
"You speak so confidently of freedom and a new life together. Are we to shed our old mates, like Nautilus shells? My new coming into love makes me pitiful. Must we be ruthless?
"YOUR OWN."
"DEAR, GENTLE HEART: I do not wish to seem ruthless to you, much less to be so. But has our suffering not entitled us to some joy? I know my wife to be absorbed in another man; you say your husband turns to another woman. We represent to them stumbling-blocks between them and their happiness. Surely it is only right that we should all be freed to find our true mates."I find it daily more of a burden to carry this secret in my heart, when knowledge of it would lighten my wife's unhappiness. Shall we not confess the situation, and discuss plans for separation? I owe this girl who bears my name more than I can ever pay. I would not do anything to hurt her pride. Tell me what you think about it, dear one?"YOUR JARVIS."
"DEAR, GENTLE HEART: I do not wish to seem ruthless to you, much less to be so. But has our suffering not entitled us to some joy? I know my wife to be absorbed in another man; you say your husband turns to another woman. We represent to them stumbling-blocks between them and their happiness. Surely it is only right that we should all be freed to find our true mates.
"I find it daily more of a burden to carry this secret in my heart, when knowledge of it would lighten my wife's unhappiness. Shall we not confess the situation, and discuss plans for separation? I owe this girl who bears my name more than I can ever pay. I would not do anything to hurt her pride. Tell me what you think about it, dear one?
"YOUR JARVIS."
"JARVIS DEAR: Again I must seem to oppose you. Please let us keep our secrets to ourselves until our meeting. Suppose that something should happen even yet? Suppose we should not wish to take this step when the time comes? I do not want you to hurt your wife. I respect and love you for your sense of obligation to her. How can she help loving you, my Jarvis?"When the day comes for me to prove my devotion, may you say about me that you owe me more than you can ever pay."I live only for the completion of the play."YOUR LOVE."
"JARVIS DEAR: Again I must seem to oppose you. Please let us keep our secrets to ourselves until our meeting. Suppose that something should happen even yet? Suppose we should not wish to take this step when the time comes? I do not want you to hurt your wife. I respect and love you for your sense of obligation to her. How can she help loving you, my Jarvis?
"When the day comes for me to prove my devotion, may you say about me that you owe me more than you can ever pay.
"I live only for the completion of the play.
"YOUR LOVE."