CHAPTER VII
The Sacrifice of Youth
About ten o'clock on the evening of the same day Mrs. Burton and Mr.Morris were sitting before the open door of the old Spanish houselooking out over the countryside.
In the neighborhood of the California coast the moonlight has a rarebrilliancy. The mists of the early morning and late afternoons usuallydisappear and seem to float overhead in white and silver clouds.
"You are very kind to allow us to impose upon your hospitality in thisfashion, Mr. Morris," Mrs. Burton declared, in the voice whose rarequality gave even to her ordinary statements a charm beyond otherpersons. "I don't believe I have ever seen so beautiful a view inCalifornia as I am having from your house tonight, and yet a few hoursago I would not have believed this possible."
Immediately upon receipt of Gerry Williams' note Mrs. Burton had motoredover to the Morris ranch, using Merton Anderson as her guide. She wasanxious, of course, in regard to Sally's injuries, but anxious also tolearn the character of her rescuers. Naturally the girls could not beallowed to remain alone over night with strangers. Unless Sally were ina really critical condition, she could certainly be moved withoutdanger.
Within a few minutes after Mrs. Burton's arrival at the ranch, thephysician who had been telephoned for some time before, appeared inanswer to the summons.
After seeing Sally he announced that she was not seriously hurt, onlybruised and shaken, and could be moved without difficulty. Despite thisassurance, the two girls and Mrs. Burton were spending the night at theranch.
"I don't believe you appreciate, Mrs. Burton, how great a pleasure andan honor your presence in our home is both to my son and me. We are sofar out of the world and with no women in our family are often extremelylonely. However, we are not so remote that we have not heard of Mrs.Burton's distinguished reputation."
Mr. Morris spoke with an old-fashioned courtesy and admiration which noone could fail to appreciate.
His guest preferred not to talk of her professional life during hersummer holidays with the Camp Fire girls.
"At least I am sure we shall never forget our own pleasure," Mrs. Burtonreturned. "The fact of the matter was I discovered at once that Sallyand Gerry were determined upon remaining as soon as you and your sonwere kind enough to invite us. It is my private belief that Sally evenpretended to be more seriously hurt in order to influence my decision.She appears to be enjoying the role of injured heroine, and yet I canscarcely criticise the girls, as I did not require a great deal ofpersuasion."
As a matter of fact, soon after her arrival she also had fallen a victimto the beauty and romantic aspect of the old Spanish estate and to thecharm and hospitality of its owners. Moreover, Mrs. Burton realized thatMr. Morris and his son were sincerely desirous of having them as guests.Their invitation had not been merely a conventional one and the oldhouse seemed to possess an almost indefinite number of shabby bedrooms.
With an expressive gesture of her hands Mrs. Burton suddenly arose andwalked with her host to the edge of the hill which sloped down from thefront of his house.
"You are not very far out of the world when, as you tell me, the newNational Guard camp is being built on the broad mesa below you. Is itwhere I see the little row of lights? Wherever our soldiers are is theonly world that is of much importance these days! I am to drive oversoon and see the new cantonment. My Camp Fire girls and I are anxious tofind out if we can be of the least possible service. Recently, for thefirst time in my life, there have been moments when I was sorry to be awoman."
"And yet it is a sadder thing to be an old man, Mrs. Burton. I offeredmy services at the beginning, but I am past sixty and--well--well, theywere right, of course; I am not a trained soldier and not even acompetent business man and I should only have been a nuisance."
In the impetuous fashion which had always been characteristic of hergirlhood as Polly O'Neill and which she had never lost, Mrs. Burtonturned around.
"Yes, it is hard. Women are not soldiers at heart, in spite of thosethrilling Russian women and their great 'Battalion of Death.' We are notintended for the actual fighting and can only do our work behind thelines until the world is purified forever from the scourge of war. Butyou have your son to take your place."
For a few moments Mr. Morris made no reply. Then he replied slowly in atone of hesitation and of embarrassment:
"I wonder if you will allow me to make a confidant of you? I am in greattrouble, Mrs. Burton, and although we were strangers before this eveningI know your life must have taught you to understand human nature. My sondoes not wish to enter the war. I tried to persuade him to volunteer. Herefused. Now the draft has come and his number has been called, he isstill making every effort to escape military service, pleading exemptionupon entirely unnecessary grounds. The fact is inexplicable to me. Whenmy son was born my wife and I were no longer young and she died a shorttime after. Felipe has grown up here with me, with his friends and hisflowers and his music, to which he is sincerely devoted, and nothing hasever been required of him. I knew he was indolent and selfish perhaps,but until the United States entered the war I failed to appreciate thatFelipe was not a man. Another circumstance which has added to ourdifficulty, instead of clearing it away, is that Felipe and I haverecently inherited a large sum of money. Until recently, as our homemust have revealed to you, we have been poor and not very industrious.Now our inheritance has made my son more than ever eager for a life ofease and pleasure. He has been planning to fix up the old place until itlooks as it did many years ago. He wishes also to study singing, as hehas a really beautiful voice, and has been talking of going to Spain,now that the other European countries are at present out of thequestion. You can see I scarcely know what to do. Felipe's exemptionclaim is almost sure to be denied, and yet I cannot discuss the matterwith our friends and neighbors. I do not wish to prejudice them againstmy boy. What is it I can do, Mrs. Burton, when I confess to you that Iappear to have no influence with my son upon the subject of hisresponsibility to his country?"
Mrs. Burton continued looking down upon the extraordinary view.
The hills toward the east were black and eerie, the sea to the west ashining mirror, with the valleys like shadows in between.
"Mr. Morris, I wish you and your son would come over to our camp someday soon," she remarked later with apparent irrelevance. "Of course Iwish you to know my sister, but I should also like you to meet her sons.One of them, Dan Webster, is one of the finest type of American boys. Heis strong and clean and good looking and has no dearer wish in life thanto be allowed to volunteer. In another year I presume my sister will beforced to give her consent--Dan is only seventeen at present. My othernephew, Billy--well, I hardly know how to describe Billy, because he islike no other human being I have ever known. He is one of the mostimpossible and obstinate boys in the world, and one never knows from onemoment to the next what he is going to do or say. At present he is thetrial of all our lives at Sunrise camp; he has proclaimed himself apacifist, and feels called upon to convert everybody he meets. He isfilled with Tolstoi's beautiful theories of universal peace. As he isstill too young for the draft his ideas so far have not proved a seriousmenace, and yet I worry over him a good deal. Nevertheless, do you knowI am not sure Billy would not be as heroic as Dan if the test ever comesand he is once convinced peace can only follow the tragic sacrifice ofwar.
"I am not saying all this to you, Mr. Morris, because I am unsympatheticabout your son. It is perhaps because I believe I may understand hisattitude. Forgive me if you do not agree with me, but I wonder if weolder people are fully appreciating what tremendous sacrifices this waris demanding of youth. We have no right to expect all of them to give uptheir individual hopes and dreams for the future without hesitating andwithout flinching. They cannot all be made of the blood of heroes. Theamazing fact is that so many of them have been. Personally I cannot helpbeing a little sorry for your son. He will do the right thing in time, Iam sure, but it cannot be easy to surrender this exquisite home and
hisambition for a musical life. Felipe is probably afflicted with theartistic temperament, or else inspired by it, and the ways of theartistic temperament are past finding out," Mrs. Burton concluded,endeavoring to add a somewhat lighter tone to the conversation.
Her host shook his head gravely.
"You are very kind, Madame, and yet I am afraid I cannot accept yourdefense of my son. His ancestors were Spanish adventurers and soldiersand my own fought with Washington. However, I shall be delighted tovisit your camp. One of the many reasons I wished to persuade you toremain over night with us was in order that Felipe might learn to knowthe girls who are with you. I fancied that he was immediately interestedin one of them. Perhaps later she may prove an inspiration, a spur tohim. American girls must have no patience with slackers these days. Butsuppose we cease talking about the war which haunts us all soeverlastingly. Won't you walk with me and look at some of the otherviews about the old place by moonlight?"
Mrs. Burton and her host entered the front door of the house, crossedthe large sitting room and came out upon one of the paths of theenclosed garden.
Now the air was almost suffocatingly sweet with the night fragrances ofthe semi-tropical flowers.
Under the deep magenta canopy of the bougainvillea vine the older womandiscovered Gerry and her younger host.
Felipe Morris was holding a guitar, but for the moment he and Gerry werequietly talking. Feeling too shaken and uncomfortable to remain out ofbed, and realizing by feminine intuition that Felipe would prefer to bealone with Gerry, Sally Ashton had retired some time before.
Now, although Mrs. Burton made no effort to interrupt Gerry's whisperedconversation with Felipe Morris, she did wonder a little curiously whather influence upon the young man would be, if by chance he had beenattracted by her.
There was no denying Gerry's exquisite prettiness; tonight with her palegold hair, her fairness and grace she seemed in tune with the beauty ofthis old-world garden. Yet Mrs. Burton believed that Gerry was shallowand vain and that her ideas of life included less of devotion to dutyand self-sacrifice than Felipe's. It was difficult to conceive of heracting as a motive force to high endeavor, Gerry, who dreamed only ofmoney and pretty clothes and what she was pleased to consider "society."
Then Mrs. Burton sighed as she followed her host into the land which layon the other side of the hedge. Had one the right to demand that Gerryand Felipe think of war tonight in a shrine, dedicated like thisenclosed garden, to the service of youth and romance?