268CHAPTER VICRISIS
It was nearly dark when the big red car drew up in front of the Gleason cottage and, the girl only alighting, moved on again slowly down the street. At the second crossing beyond, out of sight of the house, it switched abruptly to the right for four blocks, into the poorer section of the town, and stopped before a battered, old-fashioned residence. A middle-aged man in his shirt sleeves sat on the step smoking a pipe. At a nod from the driver he advanced to the curb.
“Mr. Armstrong in, Edwards?” asked Roberts directly.
The man shook his head.
“Been here, has he?”
“Not since he left this morning; about ten o’clock it was.”
Roberts paused, his hand on the clutch lever.
“Will you have him ’phone me when he comes, please?”269
“Yes, certainly.”
“Thank you.”
The next stop was at the office, dark with a Sabbath darkness; but not for long. Within the space of a few minutes after he came, every light switched on, the windows open wide, his coat dangling from a chair in the corner, Roberts was at work upon a small mountain of correspondence collected upon his desk, a mountain of which each unit was marked “personal” or “private.” At almost the same time a waiter from a near-bycaféentered with a tray of sandwiches and coffee. Thereafter he ate as he worked.
An hour passed. The sandwiches disappeared entirely and the mountain grew slightly smaller. A second hour dragged by and the mountain suffered a second decline. For the first time Roberts halted and glanced at the clock. A moment later he took down the receiver from the ’phone on his desk and gave a number.
“That you, Randall? Has Armstrong been at your place to-night? You haven’t seen him at all to-day, then. No; nothing. Just wanted to know, that was all. Good-night.”
Another half-hour passed; then, without pausing in his work, Roberts pulled the buzzer lever270for a messenger. When the latter appeared he scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper, addressed an envelope, and gave it to the boy with half a dollar.
“There’s a mate to that coin waiting here for you if you can get me an answer within half an hour,” he said. “You know the party, don’t you?”
“Sure. Yes, sir.”
“Follow up the trail, then. You’ve lost one minute of your thirty already.”
For the third time he returned to his work, halting only when the messenger in blue returned.
“Can’t deliver it, sir,” explained the latter curtly. “I’ve been all over town and no one has seen him. Thank you, sir. Good-night.”
For several minutes this time Darley Roberts sat in his desk chair thinking, quite motionless. The clock on the wall recorded midnight and he compared the time with his watch to make certain of its accuracy. Once more he took down the telephone receiver.
“This you, Elice?” he asked after a moment. “Can I be of service? Never mind, no need to explain. I understand. I’ll be right up.”
In spite of the city speed limit the big red271car made those twelve blocks intervening in sixty-four seconds flat.
“How did you ever know?”—infinite wonder, infinite relief as well in the tone. “Tell me that, please.”
“I didn’t know, of course. I merely guessed. Has it been long?”
Involuntarily the girl shuddered, then held herself steady with an effort.
“Yes, since dinner. He came while we were eating; and father—”
“I understand,” preventingly. “Don’t worry. It’s all over with now. Did any one else see—any of the neighbors, I mean?”
“I think not. It was after dark and—Oh, it’s simply horrible! horrible!”
“Yes,” gently. “I appreciate that. Let’s not speak about it. Your two roomers are both in?”
The girl nodded.
“They didn’t suspect anything wrong either?”
“No, the hammock was dark—and father watched. They went right up to their rooms without stopping.”
Roberts nodded, and looked out of the window. The light in the residence district of the town was on a midnight schedule and was now272cut off. He turned back. A moment he stood so, silent, facing the girl there in the dimly lighted hall. Under a sudden instinct he reached out and laid a hand compellingly on each of her shoulders, holding her captive.
“You don’t misunderstand my intruding here to-night, do you, Elice?” he asked directly.
“Misunderstand!” The girl looked at him steadily, the dark circles about her eyes eloquent. “Never. How can you fancy such a thing! Never.”
“And you’re willing to trust me to bring everything out right? It will be all right, take my word for that.”
Still the girl did not stir, but gazed at him. “Yes, I trust you implicitly, always,” she said.
A moment longer the hands held their place before they dropped.
“All right, then,” he said perfunctorily, “go to bed. I’ll take care of Steve—to-night and in the future. Don’t worry. Good-night.”
“Wait,” a hand was upon his arm, a compelling hand. “You mean—”
Roberts smiled deliberately, his slow, impersonal smile.
“Exactly what I said. This will be a lesson Steve should never forget. I can’t imagine his273repeating it—ever. Besides, I’ll help him not to. I have a plan.”
“You mean to help him as—as you helped Harry Randall and Margery?”
A moment the man was silent, though he smiled.
“No, not exactly. I’ll merely assist him to help himself. I think perhaps it’s only my duty anyway, that maybe I’m more or less responsible. By the way, don’t be surprised if he disappears for a bit. He may possibly decide to go out of town. That’s all, for now.”
The girl drew a long breath.
“You responsible!” she echoed. “If you’re responsible, how, then, about—myself?”
“Elice!” Roberts cut her off peremptorily. “I refuse to listen. Go to bed at once, I insist. I’ll come to-morrow and talk if you wish. Just now it’s all too near. Good-night again.”
An instant later, on the darkened porch without, he had the arm of the doddering old man in the grip of a vise.
“Leave everything here to me,” he said swiftly, “and see to Elice.” He was leading the other toward the entrance. “Listen. See that she goes to bed—at once; and you too. I’ll attend to everything else. Trust me,” and274very gently he himself closed the door behind the other two.
It was after office hours of the day following when Stephen Armstrong, a bit pale but carefully groomed this time, entered the outer room of Darley Roberts’ office and, with decided reluctance, approached the private apartment beyond. The door was open. Seated before the big desk, shirt-sleeved as usual, Roberts sat working. As the newcomer approached he wheeled about.
“Come in,” he said simply. “I’m glad to see you.”
The visitor took a seat by the open window and looked out rather obviously.
“I just received your note a bit ago,” he began perfunctorily, “and called instead of giving you an appointment, as you asked. It’s the least I could do after last night.” He halted, looking at the building opposite steadily. “I want you to know that I appreciate thoroughly what you did for me then. I—I’m heartily ashamed, of course.”
“Don’t speak of it, please,” swiftly. “I’ve forgotten it and I’m sure Miss Gleason and her father have done the same. No one else knows, so let’s consider it never occurred. It never275will again, I’m sure, so what’s the use of remembering? Is it agreed?”
Armstrong’s narrow shoulders lifted in silence.
“As for not speaking of it again,” he answered after a moment, “yes. Whether or not in the future, however—I’m not liar enough to promise things I can’t deliver.”
“But you can ‘deliver,’ as you say,” shortly. “You know it yourself.”
Armstrong shook his head.
“I’m not as bumptious as I was a few years ago,” he commented. “I’d have said ‘yes’ then undoubtedly. Now—I don’t know.”
Roberts swung about in his desk chair, the crease between his eyes suddenly grown deep.
“Nonsense,” he refuted curtly. “You’re not the first man in the world who has done something to regret. Every one has in some way or another—and profited by the experience. It’s forgotten already, I say, man. Let it pass at that, and go ahead as though nothing had happened. By the way, have you had supper—or do you call it dinner?”
For the first time Armstrong looked at the speaker and, forgetting for the instant, he almost smiled. The question was characteristic.
“I’ve already dined, thank you,” he said.276
Without comment Roberts called up thecaféand ordered delivered his customary busy-day lunch of sandwiches and coffee.
“I’m going East on the eleven-fifty limited to-night,” he explained, “and there are several things I’ve got to see to first.” In voluntary relaxation from work he slipped down in the big chair until his head rested on the back. Thereafter for a long time, for longer doubtless than he realized, he sat so, looking at the other man; not rudely or unpleasantly, but with the old, absent, analytical expression large upon his face. At last he roused.
“I suppose,” he began abruptly, “you’re wondering what it is I wish to speak with you about. I’ll explain in advance that it’s of your personal affairs purely, nothing else. Would you prefer me not to intrude?”
For a moment Armstrong did not answer, but with an effort he looked at the questioner directly.
“If it were a couple of days back,” he said, “I should have answered ‘yes’ emphatically. Now—” his glance wandered out the window, resting on the brick wall opposite, “now I hardly know. You’ve earned a sort of right to wield the probe; and besides—”277
“Never mind the right,” shortly. “I tell you last night is forgotten. I meant to see you and have the same talk anyway—with your permission.”
Still Armstrong hesitated, looking steadily away. “You’ve condoned the fact, then, that I’ve cut you dead on the street regularly?”
“I understood—and didn’t blame you. There are dozens of people who know Old Man Roberts and still never see him when passing face to face. It’s all in the game.”
At last Armstrong’s glance returned, almost with wonder. “And you don’t lay it up against them?”
“Sometimes. Usually, however, not. Life’s too short to play with toys; and enmities are toys—double-edged ones at that. You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“I know; but just a moment more. Do you recall, by the way, a prophecy I made once, years ago?”
“Yes; it never came true as far as I am concerned.”
“Perhaps you never had cause to have it do so.”
“Possibly.”
“With me it did come about. I’ve hated you278ever since—from the day you left. Do you realize why I haven’t answered your question?”
“Yes, why you haven’t. I’m still waiting.”
“I’m wondering,” mused Armstrong, “why I don’t hate you, now that we’re here together. I’ve thought a lot of bitter things about you, more than about any one in the world. I don’t know why I don’t say them now that I’ve got the chance.”
“Yes, you have the chance. I’m listening.”
“I know.” Armstrong’s long fingers were twitching nervously. Despite an effort to prevent his lower lip trembled in sympathy. “And still, now that for the first time I have the chance, I can’t. I don’t want to. I—” Of a sudden an uncontrollable moisture came into his eyes, and he shifted about abruptly until his face was hid. “Damn you, Darley Roberts!” he stormed inadequately, “I don’t want to a bit, but after all I trust you and—and like you. You have my permission to intrude. I want you to, have wanted you to a hundred times.” The Rubicon was crossed at last and he made the admission that for long had trembled on his tongue. “Somehow I can’t get along without you and keep my nerve. I think you’re the only person in the world who even in a measure understands me, and can maybe make a man of me again.”
“You mean to suggest that Elice,” he began, “that Elice—You dare to suggest that to me?” (Page 107)
“You mean to suggest that Elice,” he began, “that Elice—You dare to suggest that to me?” (Page 107)
279
In his place Darley Roberts sat looking at the other, merely looking at him. The silence grew embarrassing, lasted into minutes; but still unconsciously he remained as he was. At last suddenly his eyes dropped and simultaneously the fingers of his big hands twitched in a way that heralded action. Whatever the problem of that period of silence decision had come.
“I think I understand what you mean,” he said deliberately. “Perhaps, too, it’s true. I don’t know. Anyway I’ll try to play the game—try to.” He remembered, and the hands lay still. “By the way, you’re not working now?”
“No.”
“Have you anything definite in sight?”
Despite the permission he had granted but a moment before Armstrong colored; with an effort he met his questioner frankly.
“No,” again.
“That’s good. It occurred to me that it might clear the atmosphere here a bit if you went away for a time. What do you say to McLean’s for a couple of weeks?”
On Armstrong’s face the red of a moment280ago changed to white, a white which spread to his very lips.
“And take the cure, you mean! Do you think, really, it’s as bad with me as that?”
“No,” bluntly; “I’d have said so if I had. But just because you might not contract pneumonia is no reason for not wearing an overcoat when the thermometer is at zero. I’d go if I were you, just as I’d be vaccinated if there was an epidemic of small-pox prevalent.”
“But the admission! A confirmed alcoholic!”
“Confirmed nothing. Your going is no one’s business but your own. The place is a general sanatorium; it’s advertised so. Anyway you will have good company. The biggest bondholder in the Traction Company is there now. Do you happen to have the money that you’ll need convenient?”
“No. That’s another rub; and besides—on the square, Darley, I don’t need to do that—yet. I know after last night things look bad; but—”
“I understand perfectly. Let’s not waste ammunition on a man of straw. The change will do you good, though, anyway. I’d go myself for the sake of that big marble plunge if I could spare the time.” He was writing a281check swiftly. “Pay it back when something drops,” he proffered; “there will be something develop soon—there always is. By the way, why not go along with me to-night? It’s on the same road.”
Armstrong accepted the slip of paper mechanically; a real moisture came into his eyes, and he held it back at arm’s length.
“Darley, confound you,” he protested, “I can’t accept that. I simply can’t!”
“Can’t—why? It’s good. Try it anywhere down town.”
“You know I don’t mean that; but—”
“Yes—” The big fingers were twitching ominously.
“But after—what’s past—”
“Wouldn’t you make me a loan if positions were reversed?” shortly.
“Yes, certainly; but—”
“Forget it, then.” Roberts turned back to his desk abruptly. “Pardon me if I go on working. I’ve simply got to clear this desk before I go.” He waited in silence until the other man started to leave; just as Armstrong reached the door he wheeled about.
“You’ll be with me at eleven-fifty sure, won’t you?” he asked directly.282
Armstrong hesitated, his eyes averted.
“Yes,” he said at last.
“Good. I’ll attend to the reservations for both of us. Travel East is light now and we’ll have things practically to ourselves. There are a number of other things I wish to talk with you about—and we’ll have all night to do it in. I suppose you’ll see Elice this evening?”
Again Armstrong colored. “Yes,” he repeated uncertainly.
“Tell her, please, for me that I’ll be out of town for about three weeks. Meanwhile the car is subject to her order. I left directions at the garage. If it’s convenient for you to happen around this way about train time there’ll be a cab waiting. Good-bye until then.”
For two hours thereafter Roberts worked steadily—until every scrap of correspondence on the desk had been answered or bore memoranda for the instruction of the stenographer on the morrow. At last he took down the ’phone.
“Randall? There’ll be a carriage call for my baggage shortly. It’s all ready. Thanks. By the way, have you that manuscript handy I spoke to you once about? All right. Tuck it in somewhere while you think of it, please. You’re still of the same opinion, that it’s good;283at least worth a hearing? Very well. It’ll be published then. I’m accepting your judgment. Never mind how. This is between you and me absolutely. I’m not to figure—ever. If it goes flat he’ll have had his chance. That’s all any of us can have. By the way, again. I’m sorry to miss Mrs. Randall’s dinner-party. I’m not often honored in that way. Anyway, though, perhaps it’s as well. I’m impossible socially; and, fortunately, I know just enough to realize it. Yes; that’s all. Good-night.”
Thereafter he waited until he got “Central” on the wire.
“Call me at eleven-thirty,” he requested. “I’ll be asleep, so ring me long and loud. Eleven-thirty sharp, remember, please.”
He hung up the instrument with a gesture of relief and leaned back in his chair, his great bushy head against the bare oak, his big hands loose in his lap. A half-minute perhaps he sat so—until the eyes slowly closed and, true to his word, and swiftly as a child at close of day, he fell asleep.
At eleven o’clock the watchman of the building, noticing the light, came to investigate. A moment he stood in the open door, an appreciative observer. On tiptoe he moved away.284
“Some one’s paying good and plenty for this,” he commentedsotto voceand with a knowing wag of the head. “The old man’s all in—and he isn’t doing it for his health alone, you bet!”
285CHAPTER VIITRAVESTY
Out in the street, in front of the Gleason cottage, the red car glistened in the moonlight. In the shade of the familiar veranda Roberts tossed his gauntlets and cap on the floor and drew forth two wicker rocking-chairs where they would catch the slight midsummer night wind.
“Hottest night of the season, I fancy,” he commented, as he helped his companion remove her dust coat and waited thereafter until she was seated before he took the place by her side. “Old Reliable number two certainly did us a good turn this evening. Runs like an advertisement, doesn’t it?”
It was a minute before the girl answered. “Yes. It sounds cheap to say so, but at times, like to-night, it almost seems to me Paradise. It makes one forget, temporarily, the things one wishes to forget.”
“Yes,” said her companion.286
“I suppose people who have been accustomed to luxuries all their lives don’t think of it at all; but others—” She was silent.
“Yes,” said Roberts again, “I think I understand. It’s the one compensation for being hungry a long time, I suppose; the added enjoyment of the delayed meal when at last it is served. At least that’s what those who never went hungry say. I hope you’ll get a lot of pleasure out of the machine this Summer.”
The girl looked at him quickly.
“I? Are you going away again?”
“Yes. I start West to-morrow. Things are moving faster than I expected.”
“And you won’t take the car with you?”
“No, I shan’t play again for a time. I always had a theory that a man should know a business he conducts, not take some one else’s word for it. I’m going to put on my corduroys and live with that mine until it grows up. I don’t even know how long that will be. In a way to-night is good-bye.”
The girl said nothing this time.
“I meant what I said, though, in regard to the car,” returned Roberts. “I shall be disappointed if you don’t use it a lot. I’ve always felt as though it sort of belonged to us together,287we’ve had such a lot of pleasure out of it in common. They tell me at the garage that while I was away last time it wasn’t out at all. Didn’t Steve deliver my message?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t you promise to do differently the rest of the season?”
Again the girl paused before she answered.
“No,” she said then. “You understand why?”
“Not if I request otherwise?”
“Don’t request it, please,” swiftly, “as a favor. I repeat, you understand.”
“Understand, certainly, what you mean to imply.” The big hands on the man’s knees drooped a little wearily. “You don’t trust me wholly, even yet, do you, Elice?” he added abruptly.
“Trust you! That’s a bit cruel.”
The man shifted in his seat unconsciously.
“If it was I beg your pardon,” he said gently. “I didn’t intend it so. I suppose I’m wrong; but what others, mere observers, say seems to me so trivial. The gossip of people who’d knife you without compunction the instant your back was turned for their own gratification or gain—to let them judge and sentence—pardon288me once more. I shan’t mention the matter again.”
The girl looked steadily out into the night, almost as though its peace were hers. “Yes,” she returned, “you are wrong—but in a different way than you intimated. It isn’t what others would say at all that prevents my accepting, but my own judgment of myself. You’ve done so many things for me; and I in return—I’m never able to do anything whatever. It’s a matter of self-respect wholly. One can’t accept, and accept, and accept always—in the certainty of remaining permanently in debt.”
The man looked at her oddly. Then he glanced away.
“No; I suppose not,” he acquiesced.
“If there were anything I could do for you in turn to make up even partially; but you’re so big and independent and self-sufficient—”
“Self-sufficient!” Roberts caught the dominant word and dwelt on it meditatively. “I suppose I am that way. It never occurred to me before.” The big hands tightened suddenly, their weariness gone. “But let’s forget it,” he digressed energetically. “This is the last time I’ll see you for a long time, months at least; and a lot can happen in months sometimes. The289future is the Lord’s, but the present is ours. Let’s enjoy it while we may. What, by the way, are you going to do the remainder of the Summer?”
“Do?” The girl laughed shortly. “What I’m doing now, I fancy, mostly. Father will be away the first week in September. I promised Margery I’d stay with her during that time; otherwise—” A gesture completed the sentence.
Roberts looked at her oddly. “Is that what you want to do—you?” he asked bluntly.
“Want to do?” Again the laugh. “What does it matter what I want to do?” She caught herself suddenly. “Margery and I may go away to a lake somewhere during that week,” she completed.
“And after that?” suggested the man.
“The university will be open then. I’ve secured a place this year,—assistant in English.”
“You’re really serious, Elice?” soberly. “This is news to me, you know. You really purpose teaching in future?”
“Yes.” She returned her companion’s look steadily. “Father was not reappointed for the coming session. He’s over the age line. I supposed you knew.”290
“No; I didn’t know before.” Without apparent reason Roberts stood up. The great hands were working again. A moment he stood there so, the big bushy head outlined distinctly against the starlit sky; with equal abruptness he returned to his seat.
“What a farce this is you and I are playing,” he said. “Do you really wish it to go on longer?”
The girl did not look at him, did not move.
“Farce?” she echoed.
The man gestured swiftly.
“Don’t do that, please,” he prevented. “You and I know each other entirely too well to pretend. I repeat, do you wish this travesty to go on indefinitely? If you do I accept, of course—but—do you?”
Instinctively, as on a former occasion, the girl drew her chair farther back on the porch, until her face was in the shadow. It was out of the shadow that she spoke.
“Prefer it to go on? Yes,” she said; “because I wish you to remain as you are now. But really wish it, no; because it’s unfair, wholly unfair.”
“Unfair to me?”
“Yes, to you.”291
For the second time Roberts gestured. “Take that consideration out of the discussion absolutely, please,” he said. “With that understanding do you still wish this pretence to go on?”
“I wish to keep your friendship.”
“My friendship—nothing more? I’m brutally blunt, I realize; but I can’t let to-night, this last night, go by without knowing something of how you feel. You never have given me even so much as a hint, you know. I’ve waited patiently, I think, for you to select the moment for confidence; but you avoid it always; and to-morrow at this time—You know I love you, Elice. Knowing that, do you still wish me to go away pretending merely polite friendship? Do you wish it to be that way, Elice?”
The girl ignored the question, ignored all except the dominant statement.
“Yes, I know you love me,” she echoed. “You told me so once before.”
“Once! A thousand times; you understood the language. It seems foolish even to reiterate the fact now. And yet you’ve never answered.”
“I know. I said it was unfair; and still—”
“You won’t answer even yet.”
“I can’t. I’m drifting and waiting for light.292Don’t misunderstand; that isn’t religion—I’ve not been to church in a year, or said a prayer. It isn’t that at all. I simply don’t want to hate myself, or be hated by another justly later.”
“And you expect to drift on until that light comes?”
A halt, long enough for second thought or renewal of a decision. “I can’t do otherwise. There’s no other way. It’s inevitable.”
“‘Inevitable!’” Roberts shrugged impatiently. “I don’t like the word. It belongs in the same class with ‘chance’ and ‘predestination’ and ‘luck.’ There are few things inevitable except death.”
“This is one—that I must wait.”
“And you can’t even take me into your confidence, about the reason why? Mind, I don’t ask it unless you voluntarily desire. I merely suggest.”
“No,” steadily; “I can’t tell you the reason. I’ve got to decide for myself—when light comes.”
Roberts’ great shoulders squared significantly.
“But if I know it already,” he suggested evenly, “what then?”
No answer, although the other waited half a minute.293
“I repeat: what if I know it already?”
“Do you know?”
Roberts’ glance wandered into the shadow where the girl was, then returned slowly to the street and the red car.
“I rode East with Steve Armstrong,” he said, “as far as he went. I also wired him when I was coming, and we returned together. He told me, I think, everything—except about your father. He forgot that, if he knew. Do you doubt I know the reason, Elice?”
Out of the shadow came the girl’s face,—the face only.
“You did this for Stephen Armstrong—after what is past! Why?”
“Because life is short and I wanted to know several things before I came to-night. Would you like to hear what it was I wished to learn?”
Again the face vanished.
“Yes,” said a voice.
“You know already, so it won’t be news. One was that he still cares for you—as always. He perjured himself once, because he thought it was his duty; but he has never ceased to care. The other thing was that he’s changed his mind and is going back to his literary work. His novel, that was accepted tentatively, will be published294next Winter. What else I learned is immaterial. I don’t often venture a prediction, but in his case I’ll make the exception. I believe that this time he’ll make good. He has the incentive—and experience. Do you still doubt I know the reason, Elice?”
“No. But that you should tell me this!”
“I claim no virtue. You knew it already. I’m merely attempting to simplify—to aid the coming of the light.”
For the second time out of the shadow came the girl’s face, her whole figure. “Darley Roberts,” asked a voice, “are you human, or aren’t you? I don’t believe another man in the world would, under like circumstances, do as you have done by Steve Armstrong. I can’t believe you human merely.”
The man smiled oddly; the look passed.
“I have merely played the game fair,” he explained dispassionately, “or tried to, according to my standard. Like yourself, I don’t want to hate myself in the future, whatever comes. The hate of others—I’m indifferent to that, Elice.”
“And still you love me.”
“I shall never care for another, never. The time when I could, if it ever existed, is past.”295
The white hands dropped helplessly into the girl’s lap.
“I thought I understood you,” she said, “and yet, after all—”
“We live but once,” gently. “I wish you to be happy, the happiest possible. Does that help?”
“Yes, but—” In a panic the face, the hands, retreated back into the shadow again. “Oh, I’m afraid of you once more, afraid of you,” she completed.
A moment the man sat still; then came his unexpected deliberate smile.
“No; not afraid. I repeat you know me absolutely, and we’re never afraid of things we know. I explained once before that that’s why I went through the detail of telling you everything. You’re not afraid of me in the least, any more than I am afraid of you.”
“No?”
The smile still held.
“No.”
“And still—”
“I repeat, it isn’t fear of me that prevents your answering.” Like a flash the smile vanished. Simultaneously the voice dropped until it was very low, yet very steady. “You love me in return, Elice, girl. It isn’t that!”296
From the darkness silence, just silence.
“I say, you love me in return. Can you deny it?”
Still not an answering sound nor a motion.
Roberts drew a long breath. His big eloquent hands hung free. “Shall I put in words the exact reason you won’t answer, to prove I know?” he asked.
“Yes.” The voice was just audible.
A moment Roberts paused. “It’s because you are afraid, not of me, but of Steve Armstrong: afraid of the way the Lord fashioned him. Elice, come out into the light, please. We must face this thing. You’re not his mother, and you don’t love him otherwise. Tell me, is a sentiment dead greater than one living? Will you, must you, sacrifice the happiness of two for the happiness of one? Answer me, please.”
An instant the girl hesitated; obediently she came out into the light, stood there so, her hand on the pillar of the porch. She did not glance at her companion, did not dare to do so.
“I repeat, I can’t answer you yet,” she said simply. “It’s bitter, cruel to you, I know, and to myself; but it would be infinitely worse if—if I made a mistake.” She paused, while a restless297hand swept across her face. “I can’t help feeling that I’m to blame a good deal already, that if I hadn’t changed, and shown the change—” She sat down helplessly, the sentence incomplete. “Oh, I can’t bear to think of it. It drives me mad. To feel you have the responsibility of another’s very soul on your hands, and to have failed in that trust—”
“Elice!”
“Don’t stop me. It’s true. If I had married him years ago when he first wished me to do so he’d never have gone down. I cared for him then, or fancied I did so; and I could have held him up. But instead—”
“Elice! I won’t listen. You’re morbid and see ghosts where nothing exists. You’re no more to blame for being human and awakening than lightning is to blame when it strikes.” He stood up, suddenly. “Besides, the past is dead. To attempt to revive it is useless. The future alone matters; and it’s that I wish to talk about. I can’t bear to think of going away and leaving you as you are now. It’s preposterous. If you cared for Steve I shouldn’t insist for a moment, or trouble you again so long as I lived; but you don’t care for him.” He took a step forward, and stopped where she must look him in the face.298“You don’t care for him, that way, do you, Elice?” he asked.
Straight in the eyes the girl answered his look. But the lips spoke nothing.
“And you do love me, love me, don’t you, girl?”
Still not a word; only that same steady look.
“Elice,”—the man’s hands were on her shoulders, holding her immovable,—“answer me. This is unbearable. Don’t you love me? Say it. I must know.”
Bit by bit the long lashes dropped, until the dark eyes were hid. “I can’t say it yet,” she said, “you know that. Don’t compel me to.”
“Cannot or will not?”
Still no answer, merely silence.
Just noticeably the man’s big hands tightened their grip. “I can make you very happy, Elice, girl,” he voiced swiftly; “I know it; because I have the ability and I love you. I’ll take you away, to any place in the world you wish to go, stay as long as you wish, do whatever you choose. I’ll give you anything you want, anything you ever wanted. I have the power to do this now, and I’ll have more power in future. Nothing can stop me now or prevent, except death alone.299Say the word and I’ll not go West to-morrow. Instead, we’ll begin to live. We’re both starved for the good things that life has to offer. We’ll eat our fill together, if you but say the word. We’ve wasted years—both of us, long, precious years. There’s a big, big debt owing us; but at last, at last—”
“Darley Roberts!”
The man suddenly halted, passive.
“You don’t realize what you’re doing, what you’re saying. It’s unworthy of you.”
A moment longer the grip of the big hands still clung as it was. They dropped, and the man drew back.
“Unworthy?” He looked at her steadily. “Can you fancy I was trying to—buy you? I thought you realized I love you.”
“I do. But—you’re only making it harder for me—to do right.”
“Do right?” Once more the echo. “Right!” He laughed, as his companion had never before heard him laugh. “I wonder if it is right to make a certain cripple of one human being on the chance of making a real weakling less weak? Right to—” a sudden tense halt. “I beg your pardon,” swiftly. “I didn’t mean that. Forget that I said it.” He stooped to pick up his300cap and gauntlets. When he came forward once more he was himself again, as he would be from that moment on.
“Don’t fancy for a minute I mean to hurt you, or to make it harder for you now,” he said steadily; “but this is the end, you realize, the turning of the ways—and I must be sure. You still can’t give me an answer, Elice?”
The girl did not look at him this time, did not stir.
“No, not even yet.”
A pause, short this time.
“And you won’t reconsider about going to work for a living, won’t let me help, as a friend, merely as a friend? You know me too well to misunderstand this. It would mean nothing absolutely to me now to help, and would not alter our friendship, if you wish, in the least. Won’t you let me do this trifle for you if I ask it?”
Resolutely the girl shook her head, very steadily.
“I understand and appreciate,” she said; “but I can’t.”
A moment longer the man waited. He extended his hand. “There’s nothing more to be said, then, I fancy, except good-bye.”301
For the first time in that long, long fight the girl weakened. Gropingly she found the extended hand; but even then the voice was steady.
“Good-bye,” she said—and that was all.