CHAPTER VII
GREEN HILL October 14
Diary, it is quite two weeks since I have made an entry, but thethrills of actually sitting up, in a big chair, downstairs in front ofa seasonable log fire, and the even more exciting adventure of shortwheel-chair rides in the sheltered paths of a chrysanthemum garden,have for the moment entirely occupied my time and thoughts. Even tothe exclusion of you! And now, Father is talking of taking me Southfor the winter. Just as soon as I am able to walk a little, he wantsto take me--and Sarah--and Wiggles--to Florida, so that I need notundergo the trials of a Northern winter.
I am worried about Father. He does not look, and is not, at all well.The old trouble, which dates back to his Spanish-American War days,has returned, and with it, disquieting heart symptoms. I got Dr. Macoff in a corner, lately, and asked him to tell me truly what hethought of Father's condition. "He seems so _tired_ all the time," Isaid. And Dr. Mac looked very grave.
"Lassie," he told me, "Your father's a sick man. And a careless one.He's not minded his own aches and pains all these years, nor sparedhimself. And he's not as young as he was."
When I said something to Father, he laughed at me.
"MacAllister is an old woman," he said, "fussing and fretting. I'll beall right presently, my little girl. Don't worry. The main thing is toget you on your feet, and then we'll be off to Florida for a long,long holiday. Bless that boy!" he added, and I knew that he meant Dr.Denton.
Well, I bless him too, when Sarah wheels me down the garden paths andI reach out to touch the big friendly flowers. I feel so strong, sostrong! They have to watch me now, for I am like to do all manner offoolish things, with the old languor gone, and the new red bloodsinging through my veins.
But when Doctor Denton comes and looks at me out of those cool eyes,and asks, "Well, how are the tantrums lately, Miss Carroll?" I'm in nomood for blessing him then!
GREEN HILL October 20
Oh! Oh! Diary, if you ever go automobiling, you'll never be content tosit in my desk drawer again. It's too wonderful! This morning, bundledup to my eyes, I was taken from my chair, lifted into Mr. JohnDenton's great, grey, purring beast, and with Dr. William Denton atthe wheel, and Father and Mr. Denton beside me, I was taken, quietlyand smoothly, over the hill road, down the valley, and through thewide Meadow Road, on my first tour of exploration.
Eleven years! Eleven years!
Back through the village we came, after an all too short half-hour.Somehow the news had spread, and from every gate and window, handswaved and friendly faces peered. They were glad to see me, the GreenHill people.
"Is she crying?" asked Dr. Denton at the wheel, with interest.
I wanted to. I wanted to cry and laugh and shout all at once. InsteadI folded my hands more tightly in Father's and said demurely, "Sorry,but she isn't."
Dr. Denton nodded, slouched down in his seat, his strong brown handsdoing marvellous things to the wheel.
"Please," I asked Mr. Denton, "next time you take me riding, will youdrive, and may I sit in the front seat and watch you steer?"
Everyone laughed.
"Ask Bill," answered my old friend, "I've just sold him the car."
"You may ride in the front seat--with me," announced Dr. Dentongraciously, before I had time to withdraw my request, "alwaysproviding that you do not clutch my arm at inopportune moments, orscream as you did six minutes back," he added, "when that mongrel pupappeared on the horizon, a good mile away."
"I don't think," I said, "that, after all, I'd care for the frontseat."
"Very well," said the chauffeur obligingly, as, with a turn and twistwe rolled up smoothly before my own front door, where Sarah, apronflying in the wind, stood, the tears shining on her dear old face.
Front seat or back, I am to ride every day, as long as the goodweather holds, for it has been prescribed for me by no less than twophysicians in reputable professional standing; no matter what theirrespective dispositions. And, Diary, I love it so that, for the sakeof the swift silent motion, I would cheerfully ride in any seatwhatsoever, regardless of the driver. So low have I sunk in my newpassion.
"Nervous?" asked Dr. Denton, as he helped carry me to my room. I amconveyed now as children are, on crossed hands with supporting armsabout my back.
"Not at all!" I answered indignantly.
"That's good," said he, "for I am a fearsome driver. I have," he said,sinking his voice to an awe-inspiring whisper, "been known to kill mymen in my day. And any amount of dogs. Strong men as I pass haveturned pale, and women fainted on the streets!"
He and Mr. Denton laid me on my bed, and I could only look at him withscorn, from that ignominious position. Oh, when I can stand on my twofeet, won't I--well, won't I _just_!!!!
GREEN HILL November 1
Diary, this day I have stood upright, and taken my first falteringstep forward. Dr. Mac was there, and Dr. Denton, one on each side. Anda step away, with his arms wide, my Father. Sarah, her hand on Dr.Mac's arm, took the step with me. She was quite white.
I was terribly weak, and all bendy in the middle. But I walked, Diary,I _walked_.
I am in bed now, after having been fussed over and made much of. I amsure Father is out sending wires! And Sarah pops in every two minutesto see if I am still alive. I am very much alive, and my whole soul ison its knees in gratitude. Now, almost for the first time, I believethat I am to be a cog in the Great Machinery again; and no longer alittle broken thing, thrown out forever on the scrap heap.
I want to tell Richard Warren. But no word has come from him since mylast letter. So I must wait.
GREEN HILL December 8
It seems a year since I last opened you, little Blue Friend. For somuch has happened. I walk, as if I had always walked, and it no longerseems wonderful or blessed. For my Father is very ill. He is up anddressed and around, but I know and he knows that it may not be forvery long. He has been to town, to see other doctors. And when he cameback, he set his house in order.
After he had told me his exact condition, "Mavis," he said, "you arethe bravest person, except your Mother, I have ever known. It may bethat I shall live for years; it may be that it is only a matter ofweeks or months. I don't know. The doctors hold out very little hopeof my recovery. You are better fitted to help me now than ever youwere. And," he said smiling, "it seems as if I had nothing more tolive for, now that you are well again, and growing stronger everyday."
I was on his lap, in the big still living room.
"Father, father," I said, and held his dear head close against mybreast. They can't take him from me! They can't!
"Hush!" he said. "We have had many years of the most beautiful, closecompanionship together, my daughter. You have given me more than youknow. And for a long time I have known...."
He stopped.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, fighting back the tears.
"I talked it over," he said, "with Dr. Denton, and we decided that itwas not wise--as your condition stood then."
Always Dr. Denton! Ordering my life....
"If only," said Father, very low, "if only I could leave you guarded,protected. You know so little of life.... I am," he whispered tohimself, "responsible to her mother...."
We were quiet a long time.
Presently he put me from him.
"There, there," he said, "I hear Peter calling you outside. Run along,dearest. And let me see you smile before you go. It may be that wewill have a long time yet together. Kiss me, Mavis, and smile."
Diary, I am so terribly frightened. So alone.
GREEN HILL December 21
We are getting ready for Christmas. The Green Hill people have sentme, with their love, a beautiful, courageous tree. And everyone hasoffered to come and trim it. But we must be very quiet on this, myfirst real Christmas for many years. For Father is failing steadily.He does not complain, but he spends a great deal of the day in bed;and he is so white, so worn, that my heart stands still to look athim. If only I
could have stayed all my life in my little rose-greyroom, helpless and cared for, if by some strange twist of Fate myFather could have been spared this wasting illness.
I hate my feet; so eager to run; I hate my new sense of well-being andvitality. I hate the faint pink in my cheeks, and all my untiredstrength.
It is snowing today. White and soft and thick snow lies over mygarden. Like a.... No, I can't write it....
GREEN HILL December 28
Christmas is over and done with. I had so many lovely gifts, more thanever this year, it seems. I have put them away--the books from Mr.Denton, the little gold watch from Father, even Peter's funny littlehand-painted card. And all the others. I can't seem to be grateful foranything. Wonderful roses reached me from the city, Christmas morning.There is no card. But I know who sent them. Why doesn't he write? Hewould help, a little, I think. But I can't write to him. Not now.
GREEN HILL January 1
The new year.
I ran over to see Mrs. Goodrich this morning. She is terriblydistressed because Mr. Goodrich's firm is sending him abroad, and hewants her to go with him. They will be travelling too much to takePeter and have decided against it. Of course I asked for him. And shewill let me know. Father, when I told him, shook his head. He saidnothing, but I knew what he was thinking.
GREEN HILL January 2
Father asked me today if I liked Dr. Denton. He asked me so wistfullyand so strangely that I couldn't tell him the truth. They are greatfriends, I know. So I lied.
"Why, yes," I said, "I like him very much."
I felt myself grow red. Father patted my hand.
"He's a good man," he said. "I want you to trust him, Mavis. I havemade John Denton your guardian--you know so little about money and thedull things of life," he added, half sighing, half smiling. "You are,after all, only a child."
I tried to change the subject, as I always do, when directly orindirectly Father speaks of leaving me. He seemed happier, when I lefthim, than I have seen him in many days. I am glad, Diary, that I liedto him about the Enemy.
GREEN HILL January 10
This morning Father was worse. I rushed to the 'phone and tried to getDr. Mac, but he was out, making his calls. So Dr. Denton came. He sentme from the room, and was with Father a long, long time. When he cameout, he called me.
"Your father wishes to see you, Miss Carroll," he said.
"Dr. Denton--" I couldn't say any more. Suddenly he took my twoice-cold hands in his firm, warm grasp.
"Remember," he said, almost sternly, "that I am at your service,always, and at his."
He dropped my hands and turned away.
"I shall be back," he told me, "in the afternoon."
Shaking all over, I laid my hand on the doorknob and prayed, over andover, just "Please, God, help him," and went in.
Father, very white, held out his hands. "Come here," he said. And whenI was beside him,
"Mavis," he said, "the thought of leaving you alone--now that I feelcertain that I must leave you, is unbearable. I have been talkingtoday with Dr. Denton. He wants to marry you, my dear, and take careof you always, for me. He has been like my own son to me, that boy.He is straight and true and clean. And I think that I could go on mylong journey with very few regrets, my Mavis, if I knew that you werein as safe hands as his."
Cruel! Cruel!
My heart almost stopped, and then raced on again. I couldn't speak.Father, his hand on mine, looked at me wistfully, entreatingly. Icouldn't bear to have him look like that. Like a beggar. And yet, fora moment, I had absolutely no impulse of love toward him. He was astranger to me, my own Father. It was impossible that it was his voiceasking me to do this unthinkable thing.
"Mavis?"
"I can't," I said, in a whisper.
His hand loosened from mine. Dropped wearily to the bed,
"Very well, dearest," he said, "of course you shall do nothing againstyour will. I only thought...." he stopped, and then, "It seemed asolution," he finished.
He looked very tired. All my love for him came rushing back. I kissedhim, and he held me close for an instant.
"Will you--think it over?" he asked slowly.
"Yes, Father," I said, and was rewarded by his old brilliant smile.
Once out of the room, I brushed past Sarah, hovering near the door,and went to my own room. There, lying on my bed, I "thought it over."
What was it Dr. Denton said to me,--"you owe your father something."
I have cried until I have no tears left, rebellious, sick at heart.
I can't. And yet ... if it would make him any happier....
The bell is ringing. If that is Dr. Denton, I will see him before hegoes to Father.
Late at night.
I have said that I will marry William Denton.
GREEN HILL January 12
It is only a matter of days with Father now. Dr. Denton told me that,when we had our talk two days ago. He listened to what I had to say,very quietly, standing in front of the fire, his arms crossed, andlooking down at the great chair in which I was half buried.
After he had told me about Father, "If you will marry me, MissCarroll," he said, "I will do my best to carry out your father'swishes. I cannot make you happy--that I know--but I can makeyou--safe. Until such time as you do not need my protection."
"What do you mean?" I asked him.
"I mean," he answered gravely, "that you are very young and that theabnormal life which your accident forced you to lead has peculiarlyunfitted you for any solitary encounter with the world. If you wouldtrust yourself to me, I promise faithfully to care for you, to watchover you, and to help you through the first bewildering time. Afterthat--you may dispose of me as you see fit."
"You mean?" I whispered again.
He smiled, sombrely. "I am not trying to bind you to me," he said. "Iam asking you for your Father's sake, to let me take care of you for atime. When you are quite strong, and quite able to look out foryourself, it will remain for me to step aside, and you will be free todo and go as you please."
Something of hope stirred faintly in me. "You will let me go then?"
"Certainly."
I laid my face against the soft cushions of the chair.
"Marriage," I said, under my breath, "I--I--"
I couldn't go on.
"It will not be," he said very gently, "a marriage, Miss Carroll. Itwill be a business arrangement. You may have my sacred word of honorthat I will not trouble you in any way. And that as soon as possible Iwill take the steps to make you quite free again."
I stood up and faced him.
"You think that Father really wishes this?" I asked.
"It is, I know, his heart's desire," said Dr. Denton, "and I amtremendously honored by his faith in me."
"Very well," I said, and held out my hand.
Silently, he took it.
"Thank you, Mavis," he said quietly.
I was conscious of a longing to escape; it was as if a fine silkencord were tightening about me.
"Shall we go to Father?" I asked him.
Without another word we two walked from the room.
"Remember," he said to me at the door, "this is for your father. Wemust make believe for him, you and I."
I nodded.
The door closed behind us.
GREEN HILL January 20
I am to be married tomorrow. It is Father's wish. He is weaker, butsuffers no pain, and he recognizes us all.
Twenty-four hours to my wedding. Please God that Father will neverknow how I dread it.
Mr. John Denton is to give me away. And we are to be married from thishouse, with no one but the Goodriches and Mr. Denton present at theceremony. Ceremony! The mockery of it!
Dr. Denton has given me a ring. It was his Mother's, he said. I havenever asked him about his Mother. I do not even know if he has toldher.
Nothing seems to matter very much. Father.... _Father_....
January 21
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William--he has asked me to call him that--came to me this morning,and for the first time in days we talked together for more than amoment.
"You are frightened," he said to me, "and nervous. You need not be."
"Why--why are you marrying me?" I asked him suddenly.
"Why are you marrying me?" he countered.
"Father," I said, and stopped.
He nodded.
"I, too," he said simply.
All at once I realized what a tremendous sacrifice he was making. Itried, very poorly, to tell him.
"Not at all," he assured me, "I am perfectly clear as to what I amdoing. And my own motives. I shall be, after all," he added,"perfectly free--except perhaps outwardly."
There was something in his voice.... I got to my feet.
"Very well," I said, "it is understood that we are both free? Exceptperhaps outwardly?"
I do not think he liked it.
January 21
This afternoon, at four, I was married to Dr. William Denton, in theroom next door to Father's. They let me see him right afterwards; andhe put his dear thin white hand on my forehead and smiled.
William has moved over to the house to be near Father, and after thegrave congratulations of our few friends, we were alone together inthe quiet house. Married. And as far apart as Pole from Pole. Diary,you who have guarded my girlhood so jealously, it is Good-by now. Ihave come to the end of the chapter. And there will be nothing in myfuture life that I shall want to record. There is only this:
Uncle John brought me today a letter. From Richard Warren. I opened itten minutes ago, alone in my room. It was a short letter. It asked ifhe might come to me; it said that he had loved me all these months; itwas signed, "Your Lover, Richard Warren."
It came too late, dear Diary. I will lay it among your pages, with mydreams and my hopes and my sorrow.
Good-by. With a very steady hand, I, by some mysterious alchemy of theLaw and the Church, Mrs. William Denton, write this last word on yourpages.
_Finis_