Illustration: "YOU ARE NOT MUCH USE AT ANSWERING QUESTIONS, DARLING, ARE YOU?""YOU ARE NOT MUCH USE AT ANSWERING QUESTIONS, DARLING, ARE YOU?"
"YOU ARE NOT MUCH USE AT ANSWERING QUESTIONS, DARLING, ARE YOU?"
"Dicky, you are not kind to poor mummie," protested Flower, piteously. "No one couldpossiblyknow what Noah did to the animals in the Ark when the large ones trod upon the small ones, or how the elephant was kept from stepping on the grasshopper."
"An average person would know," Dicky insisted coldly.
"Dicky, you are most unkind! You imply that I am stupid."
"I am afraid you are, darling," said the quiet little voice, and then, in a sudden burst of admiration, "But you aremuchtoo lovely for it to matter." And the miniature edition of the doctor fell upon her and clasped her in his arms.
"We must say our text to you, mother, as father is away," Dicky remarked a few minutes later, when bedtime came.
Flower assented without enthusiasm. She did not approve of nurse's plan of teaching the children a daily text, and always wondered why Deryck encouraged it. But she did not wish again to present herself to her little son's mind in a disappointing light.
Dicky arranged Baby Blossom "in a row" with himself. She immediately began to say, "Do it—do it!" and had to be sternly hushed by her brother. Then, with his hands behind him and his head erect, Dicky announced impressively:
"Jesus said: 'If you shall ask anythink in my name, I will'—now, baby—"
"Do it!" chirped Baby Blossom.
"Very nice," commented Flower, perfunctorily.
Baby Blossom, her duty done, took a header into the soft sofa-cushion, shrieking with delight and waving her plump little legs in the air. Deryck, though deserted, kept his place in the "row." He had not yet finished with the text.
"Do you consider it true, mother?" he questioned, and his dark eyes searched her face.
"Why—well—yes, dear, I suppose so," answered Flower, vaguely. "Baby, take care! You will break your neck!"
"What does 'anythink' mean?" inquired Dicky.
"You should not say 'anythink'; it is anything."
"It isanythinkin nurse's Bible," asserted Dicky, "and I suppose it means all that comes into your head. Anything you can think of."
"I believe," said Flower, with a sudden inspiration, "that it merely refers to the religious experience of the apostles."
"Goodness," said Dicky, in nurse's best manner when arguing with Marsdon, "then why don't it say so?" Adding, almost immediately, in his own quiet, rather sad, little voice, "And what good is it to us then, mummie?"
"None whatever," replied Flower, with decision, rising from the floor and hugging baby. She felt she was scoring now and reasserting her mental superiority. "That is why I object to people teaching such words to children," she remarked from among Blossom's curls.
The small Deryck was silent. He stood very erect and gave a sharp pull to the front of his little white waist-coat, swallowing hard, as if something had hurt him. Flower felt slightly uncomfortable at being thus suddenly left with the last word. Dicky was so very masculine, and she was not at all sure of her own theology.
The silence, growing strained, was relieved by the advent of nurse, who carried off Baby Blossom and bade Dicky make haste and say good-night to his mamma and come along. He turned to her gravely. "Good-night, mother," he said.
Flower embraced him effusively and suggested a visit to the Zoo, now the warm weather was coming. Dicky allowed himself to be kissed, but ignored the remark about the Zoo.
When he reached the door he turned and looked back bravely.
"Mother," he said, "I don't know about the 'postles, but I think I ought to tell you that I have made that text myhown. Nurse says you can always make a text yourhown if it meets your need. I feel this meets my need!"
He held his head bravely, though flinching a little, as if dreading his mother's scorn or laughter.
But Flower did not laugh. She looked across the room at the brave little figure, in blank astonishment. The sincerity of his convictions reached and convinced her. But what an ignorant old Puritan nurse must be! At last she smiled at Dicky, reassuringly.
"That may be true, darling. But my dear little boy, you haven't any 'needs.'"
"Oh, haven't I!" said Dicky, as one who would say, "That is allyouknow!" Then taking hold of the outer handle he drew the door slowly behind him, turning, before it quite closed, to fling back over his shoulder, "I need an entirely new inside to my rabbit."
Left alone another remark of Dicky's returned to Flower's mind and added to her despondency.
"You never seem to know about anything you have not done yourself," her little son had said, and this assertion let in a sudden light of revelation upon her whole mental standpoint. How true it was, how sickeningly, horribly true!
What did she know of Deryck's work? Of all the people who came and went in the rooms below? Of the lectures he gave, or the essays he wrote, eagerly attended, eagerly read by hundreds? What share had she in the great interests of her husband's life? Jane had tried to speak of them more than once, and she had changed the subject.
And sitting there, deeply convicted by the grave little voice of her own tiny boy, she remembered times when Deryck had tried to talk to her of these questions so near his heart—of the methods he had thought out for curing diseased or weakened wills, for restoring shattered nerves and unbalanced brains, for giving a new lease of sane and healthy life to those who now walked fettered in the valley of a shadow worse than death. And she had taken no interest, had not tried to understand, had listened without hearing, and, at the first opportunity, talked of her own trivial doings. Was not an intelligent sympathy with his work, one of the white roses for which Deryck well might ask?
Slowly she passed to her bedroom and dressed for the evening's function, wishing all the while that she need not go, and partook of an early dinner alone, with her thoughts far away. Now it was eight o'clock, and she sat in her boudoir waiting until it should be time to be whirled through the noisy, lighted streets, to join the gay throng at Myra's crush.
Oh, how different to have walked on the pier with him, nestling into her furs, enjoying the cold night air and salty smell of brine and seaweed! And then to have returned to their warm, bright room, Deryck, pleased as any schoolboy, to have her away without her maid, amusing her by his delightful attempts to take Marsdon's place and assist at her toilet.
The fire, which had received so much unconscious attention from the baby's godmother that morning, fell together in the grate, signifying its need of coal. The doctor's wife rose and ministered to it, then knelt on the hearthrug and watched the brightening flame. Her mind had gone forward in its contemplation of that evening which might have been. Her eyes were soft and tender. Her sweet lips parted gently. Her hair gleamed golden in the firelight.
How wonderful was his love! Jane was right when she said, "He will always be a boy where he loves. He is so young in heart, so eternally, passionately young." How did Jane guess it? Only she, his wife, couldknowit to be true.
Seven years of married life had only added to the wonder and romance of Deryck's love. Each time he took her away with him was like a fresh honeymoon, more perfect than the last. Why did she forget when she came home, how sweet it was to be away with him? Why had she defrauded herself and him of the perfect hours which might have been theirs this day? Why had she failed him in his time of need?
Oh, selfish! shallow! self-absorbed! Loving tobeloved, not rising to the joy of loving. Taking his care and thought and adoration as her due, giving no tender service in return. She bowed her head upon her arms.
"Oh, Boy," she said, "not Jane's, butmine!Oh, Boy, it shall be different! You will come back to find a wife who understands, a wife whose hands are filled with roses white, ready to give them now."
The doorbell sounded. She rose and wrapped her cloak about her. She had little inclination for Myra's party, but he would be thinking of her there, and anywhere would do to pass the hours till his return.
Stoddart brought in a telegram, retired softly, and closed the door. She looked at it with a sudden thrill of comprehending joy. A good-night message from Deryck? He nearly always sent her one. Ah, if she had remembered to do the same for him! She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes past eight. Too late to get one through.
She slipped off her cloak and sank into an easy-chair, holding the unopened message in her hand. She wished to realize to the full the newness of what it meant to receive words from him. Then, when her heart was ready, she opened the orange envelope gently and drew out the folded paper.
It seemed a long message. She read it through once. She read it through again. Then she sat quite still and listened to the ticking of the clock. Then she looked at it again and heard a frightened voice, not unlike her own, reading it aloud:
From the Commissioner of Police, Brighton.Regret to announce Dr. Deryck Brand knocked down by motor-car corner King's Road. Killed instantly. Wire instructions.
From the Commissioner of Police, Brighton.
Regret to announce Dr. Deryck Brand knocked down by motor-car corner King's Road. Killed instantly. Wire instructions.
She rose and walked to the door. It opened as she reached it, and Stoddart stood there saying the brougham waited. She waved him aside.
"I shall not want it to-night, thank you."
Passing into her room, she closed the door. The electric light over her dressing-table shone brightly. She switched it off. Then, in the utter darkness, she felt her way to the empty bed, his bed and hers, laid down the telegram upon it, and stood quite still.
"O God," she whispered, "help me to think.... I am not clever. My little boy thinks me stupid, and my big boy thinks me lovely; but Thou knowest my loveliness seems to me but filthy rags. But now, in my hour of need, oh, merciful God, let me think! There is something I want to remember. Ah!" she almost shrieked, "the wheels of time! the wheels of time! Never move backwards, they say; always forwards—always forwards. And that is why it is too late. O God, too late, too late! My roses ready—ready for him; but too late.... What did the children say: 'If ye shall ask anything in my name, I will do it.' And Dicky says anything means anything we need. God in heaven! I need the wheels of time to move back six hours, that I may go with him."
She flung herself upon her knees beside the bed.
"O God, O God, in Jesus' name, put back the wheels of time, that I may go with him!"
She shrieked, then crammed the quilt into her mouth, lest they should hear and find her there.
"O God, O God—in Jesus' name—the wheels of time—back—back—that I may go with him!"
She tore down her lovely hair and wound it round her hands. The pain kept her from swooning, helped her to think.
"O God in heaven, in Jesus' name—put back the wheels of time—that I may go with him. If ye shall askanything—'anything'meansanything, Dicky; not mere religious experiences, but anything we want. O God, I want another chance! Back—back—that I may go with him!"
Then she knelt very still, deathly still, while her heart thundered in her ears and the room rocked to and fro. But she clung to the bedclothes and knelt on.
The street door banged. She heard a step come up the stairs.
She cried again: "O God, O God—the wheels of time—back—back!"
The door opened and closed. Someone stood just within, breathing quickly, listening intently.
Then the doctor's voice said: "In the dark, my darling? Why, what is the matter?" And the room flashed into light.
"O God," she said, "O God! The wheels of time—turned back—that I—may go—with him!"
His arms were round her, he had lifted her bodily and placed her on the bed. His face was shocked and startled. He unwound the lovely hair from the clenched hands and noted how much of it fell away in scattered wisps to the floor. He wiped the blood from those sweet lips, bitten through. Then he knelt down, gathered her to his heart, and spoke very gently.
"Flower, my Flower! Something has frightened you. You have had a shock. But it is all right, now, my heart's dearest. I have come back to you. Listen, beloved. I was so pleased, because I got through the consultation earlier than I thought, and found, if I made a dash for it, I could just catch the fast train up. I dined on board—listen, Flower! Don't keep on whispering, child. Never mind the wheels of time. Listen to me! I meant to hurry home and dress, and give you a surprise by turning up at Myra's. But then I felt too chilled, and determined I must stay at home and have a brew of gruel. Some other chap, in a hurry—a doctor who left before me—went off with my overcoat, and I had to turn out without one. No time to make inquiries. Such a cold fellow has come back to his little girl. Won't she see about warming him?"
The gay voice ceased. The set face bent over her. The quick professional eye noted each rigid muscle of that poor agonized face. He laid his lips on hers, with one broken sob.
"Oh, my beloved! For God's sake—"
Then Flower lifted up her hand and pointed to the foot of the bed. He looked and saw the open telegram. Reaching with one long arm, he took it up and read it.
"Good heavens!" he said. "Run down and killed! The poor chap who took my coat. My pocketbook was in it, and a bundle of letters." Then he bent over his wife once more, and whispered in a tone of awed wonder:
"Oh, Flower!You cared like this?"
And the wonder in his voice, the almost boyish surprise, saved Flower.
She turned her face to his breast and wept and wept; wept herself to calmness, and sobbed herself back into the haven of his love, the earthly Paradise of her heart's peace.
Illustration: "OH, FLOWER! YOU CARED LIKE THIS?""OH, FLOWER! YOU CARED LIKE THIS?"
"OH, FLOWER! YOU CARED LIKE THIS?"
When at last she found speech possible, she said, "If I had gone—"
"Hush, my perfect one," the doctor said. "You were quite right." But she laid her hand over his mouth, with a swift, silencing gesture, then took his hand and kissed it, with infinite humility and tenderness.
"Deryck," she said, "it isyourlove which has been perfect. I have been quite wrong. But God in His infinite mercy has heard my prayer and given me another chance. Oh, my beloved, I have but a poor white rose to offer you—a crushed and faded thing; but it is all your own. Give me another chance—oh, Deryck—a chance toserve. It is all I ask, it is all I want—to serve; because now, indeed, I truly love."
Then the doctor knew that at last life held for him all that his heart had craved through hungry years.
"Mary," he said, "oh, Mary!"
He dropped his head upon her breast, in sudden silence, and her white hands, like roses, clasped it softly, and lay upon the darkness of his hair.