CHAPTER XXIII
RICHARD HAS WAKED EARLIER
Twelve o'clock, one o'clock, two o'clock. Roberta wondered afterwardwhat she had done with the hours! At three she had her bath; at halfafter she put up her hair, hardly venturing to look at her own face inher mirror, so flushed and shy was it. Roberta shy?--she who, accordingto Ted, "wasn't afraid of anything in the world!" But she _had_ beenafraid of one thing, even as Richard Kendrick had averred. Was she notafraid of it now? She could not tell. But she knew that her hands shookas she put up her hair, and that it tumbled down twice and had to bedone over again. Afraid! She was afraid, as every girl worth winning is,of the sight of her lover!
Yet when she heard hoofbeats on the driveway could have kept her frompeeping out. The rear porch, from which the riding party would start,was just below her window, the great pillars rising past her. She hadclosed one of her blinds an hour before; she now made use of itssheltering interstices. She saw Richard on a splendid black horse comingup the drive, looking, as she had foreseen he would look, at home in thesaddle and at his best. She saw the colour in his cheeks, the brightnessin his eyes, caught his one quick glance upward--did he know her window?He could not possibly see her, but she drew back, happiness and fearfighting within her for the ascendency. Could she ever go down and facehim out there in the strong June light, where he could see every curvinghair of eyelash? note the slightest ebb and flow of blood in cheek?
Rosamond was calling: "Come, Rob! Mr. Kendrick is here and Joe isbringing round the horses. Can I help you?"
Roberta opened her door. "I couldn't do my hair at all; does it look afright under this hat?"
Rosamond surveyed her. "Of course it doesn't. You're the most bewitchingthing I ever saw in that blue habit, and your hair is lovely, as italways is. Rob, I have grown stout; I had to let out two bands before Icould get this on; it was made before I was married. Steve's beenlaughing at me. Here he is; now do let's hurry. I want every bit of thisgood time, don't you?"
There was no delaying longer. Rosamond, all eagerness, was leading theway downstairs, her little riding-boots tapping her departure. Stephenwas waiting for Roberta; she had to precede him. The next she knew shewas down and out upon the porch, and Richard Kendrick, hat and crop inhand, was meeting her halfway, his expectant eyes upon her face. Oneglance at him was all she was giving him, and he was mercifully makingno sign that any one looking on could have recognized beyond his eagerscrutiny as his hand clasped hers. And then in two minutes they wereoff, and Roberta, feeling the saddle beneath her and Colonel's familiartug on the bit at the start-off--he was always impatient to getaway--was realizing that the worst, at least for the present, was over.
"Which way?" called Stephen, who was leading with Rosamond.
"Out the road past the West Wood marshes, please--straight out. Take itmoderately; we're going about twelve miles and it's pretty warm yet."
There was not much talking while they were within the city limits--norafter they were past, for that matter. Rosamond, ahead with her husband,kept up a more or less fitful conversation with him, but the pair behindsaid little. Richard made no allusion to his letter of the morningbeyond a declaration of his gratitude to the whole party for falling inwith his plans. But the silence was somehow more suggestive of the greatsubject waiting for expression than any exchange of words could havebeen, out here in the open. Only once did the man's impatience to beginovercome his resolution to await the fitting hour.
Turning in his saddle as Colonel fell momentarily behind, passing theWest Wood marshes, Richard allowed his eyes to rest upon horse and riderwith full intent to take in the picture they made.
"I haven't ventured to let myself find out just how you look," he said."The atmosphere seems to swim around you; I see you through a sort ofhaze. Do you suppose there can be anything the matter with my eyesight?"
"I should think there must be," she replied demurely. "It seems aserious symptom. Hadn't you better turn back?"
"While you go on? Not if I fall off my horse. I have a suspicion thatit's made up of a curious compound of feelings which I don't dare todescribe. But--may I tell you?--I _must_ tell you--I never saw anythingso beautiful in my life as--yourself, to-day. I--" He broke offabruptly. "Do you see that old rosebush there by those burnt ruins of ahouse? Amber-white roses, and sweet as--I saw them there yesterday whenI went by. Let me get them for you."
He rode away into the deserted yard and up to a tangle of neglectedshrubbery. He had some difficulty in getting Thunderbolt--who was asrestless a beast as his name implied--to stand still long enough toallow him to pick a bunch of the buds; he would have nothing but budsjust breaking into bloom. These he presently brought back to Roberta.She fancied that he had planned to stop here for this very purpose.Clearly he had the artist's eye for finishing touches. He watched herfasten the roses upon the breast of the blue-cloth habit, then he turneddeterminedly away.
"If I don't look at you again," said he, his eyes straight before him,"it's because I can't do it--and keep my head. You accused me once oflosing it under a winter moon; this is a summer sun--more dangerousyet.... Shall we talk about the crops? This is fine weather for growingthings, isn't it?"
"Wonderful. I haven't been out this road this season--as far as this.I'm beginning to wonder where you are taking us."
"To the hill where you and Miss Ruth and Ted and I toasted sandwicheslast November. Could there be a better place for the end--of our ride?You haven't been out here this season--are you sure?"
"No, indeed. I've been too busy with the close of school to rideanywhere--much less away out here."
"You like my choice, then? I hoped you would."
"Very much."
It was a queer, breathless sort of talking; Roberta hardly knew what shewas saying. She much preferred to ride along in silence. The hour was athand--so close at hand! And there was now no getting away. She knewperfectly that her agreeing to come at all had told him his answer; nonebut the most cruel of women would allow a man to bring her upon such aride, in the company of other interested people, only to refuse him atthe end of it. But she had to admit to herself that if he were nowexulting in the sure hope of possessing her he was keeping it well outof sight. There was now none of the arrogant self-confidence in hismanner toward her which there had been on the February night when he hadmade a certain prophecy concerning Midsummer. Instead there was that inhis every word and look which indicated a fine humility--almost a boyishsort of shyness, as if even while he knew the treasure to be within hisgrasp he could neither quite believe it nor feel himself fit to take it.From a young man of the world such as he had been it was the mostexquisite tribute to her power to rouse the best in him that he couldhave given and she felt it to the inmost soul of her.
"Here are the forks," said Richard suddenly, and Roberta recognized witha start that they were nearly at the end of their journey.
"Which way?" Stephen was shouting back, and Richard was waving towardthe road at the left, which led up the steep hill.
"Here is where you dropped the bunch of rose haws," said he, with aquick glance as they began the ascent. "I have them yet--brown and dry.Did you know you dropped them?"
"I remember. But I didn't suppose anybody--"
"Found them? By the greatest luck--and stopped my car in a hurry. Theywere bright on my desk for a month after that; I cared more for themthan for anything I owned. I had the greatest difficulty in keeping myman from throwing them away, though. You see, he hadn't my point ofview! Roberta--here we are! Will you forgive what will seem like a pieceof the most unwarrantable audacity?" He was speaking fast as they cameup over the crown of the hill: "I didn't do it because I was sure ofanything at all, but because--it was something to make myself think Icould carry out a wish of yours. Do you remember the '_stout littlecabin on the hilltop_', Roberta? Could you--_could_ you care for it, asI do?"
The last words were almost a whisper, but she heard them. Her eyes wereriveted on the outlines, two hundred feet away through the
trees, of asmall brown building at the very crest of the hill over-looking thevalley. Very small, very rough, with its unhewn logs--the "stout littlecabin" stood there waiting.
Well! What was she to think? He _had_ been sure, to build this and bringher to it! And yet--it was no house for a home; no expensive bungalow;not even a summer cottage. Only a "stout little cabin," such as mighthouse a hunter on a winter's night; the only thing about it which lookedlike luxury the chimney of cobblestones taken from the hillside below,which meant the possibility of the fire inside without which one couldhardly spend an hour in the small shelter on any but a summer day.Suddenly she understood. It was the sheer romance of the thing which hadappealed to him; there was no audacity about it.
He was watching her anxiously as she stared at the cabin; she camesuddenly to the realization of that. Then he threw himself off his horseas they neared the rail fence, fastened him, and came back to Roberta.Near-by, Stephen was taking Rosamond down and she was exclaiming overthe charm of the place.
Richard came close, looking straight up into Roberta's face, which waslike a wild-rose for colouring, but very sober. Her eyes would not meethis. His own face had paled a little, in spite of all its healthy,outdoor hues.
"Oh, don't misunderstand me," he whispered. "Wait--till I can tell youall about it. I was wild to do something--anything--that would make youseem nearer. Don't misunderstand--_dear_!"
Stephen's voice, calling a question about the horses, brought him backto a realization of the fact that his time was not yet, and that he mustcontinue to act the part of the sane and responsible host. He turned,summoning all his social training, and replied to the question in hisusual quiet tone. But, as he took her from her horse, Roberta recognizedthe surge of his feeling, though he controlled his very touch of her,and said not another word in her ear. She had all she could do, herself,to maintain an appearance of coolness under the shock of thisextraordinary surprise. She had no doubt that Rosamond and Stephencomprehended the situation, more or less. Let them not be able to guessjust how far things had developed, as yet.
Rosamond came to her aid with her own freely manifested pleasure in theplace. Clever Rosy! her sister-in-law was grateful to her for expressingthat which Roberta could not trust herself to speak.
"What a dear little house, a real log cabin!" cried Rosamond as the fourdrew near. "It's evidently just finished; see the chips. It opens theother way, doesn't it? Isn't that delightful! Not even a window on thisside toward the road, though it's back so far. I suppose it looks towardthe valley. A window on this end; see the solid shutters; it looks as ifone could fortify one's self in it. Oh, and here's a porch! What aview--oh, what a view!"
They came around the end of the cabin together and stood at the front,surveying the wide porch, its thick pillars of untrimmed logs, itsbalustrade solid and sheltering, its roof low and overhanging. From theroad everything was concealed; from this aspect it was open to theskies; its door and two front windows wide, yet showing, door as well aswindows, the heavy shutters which would make the place a strongholdthrough what winter blasts might assault it. From the porch one couldsee for miles in every direction; at the sides, only the woods.
"It's an ideal spot for a camp," declared Stephen with enthusiasm. "Isit yours, Kendrick? I congratulate you. Invite me up here in the huntingseason, will you? I can't imagine anything snugger. May we look inside?"
"By all means! It's barely finished--it's entirely rough inside--but Ithought it would do for our supper to-night."
"Do!" Rosamond gave a little cry of delight as she looked in at the opendoor. "Rough! You don't want it smoother. Does he, Rob? Look at therustic table and benches! And will you behold that splendid fireplace?Oh, all you want here is the right company!"
"And that I surely have." Richard made her a little bow, his faceemphasizing his words. He went over to a cupboard in the wall, of whichthere were two, one on either side of the fireplace. He threw it open,disclosing hampers. "Here is our supper, I expect. Are you hungry? It'sup to us to serve it. I didn't have the man stay; I thought it would bemore fun to see to things ourselves."
"A thousand times more," Rosamond assured him, looking to Roberta forconfirmation, who nodded, smiling.
They fell to work. Hats were removed, riding skirts were fastened out ofthe way, hampers were opened and the contents set forth. Everything thatcould possibly be needed was found in the hampers, even to coffee,steaming hot in the vacuum bottles as it had been poured into them.
"Some other time we'll come up and rough it," Richard explained, whenStephen told him he was no true camper to have everything prepared forhim in detail like this; "but to-night I thought we'd spend as littletime in preparations as possible and have the more of the evening. Itwill be a Midsummer Night's Dream on this hill to-night," said he, witha glance at Roberta which she would not see.
Presently they sat down, Roberta finding herself opposite their host,with the necessity upon her of eating and drinking like a common mortal,though she was dwelling in a world where it seemed as if she did notknow how to do the everyday things and do them properly. It was adelicious meal, no doubt of that, and at least Stephen and Rosamond didjustice to it.
"But you're not eating anything yourself, man," remonstrated Stephen,as Richard pressed upon him more cold fowl and delicate sandwichessupplemented by a salad such as connoisseurs partake of with sighs ofappreciation, and with fruit which one must marvel to look upon.
"You haven't been watching me, that's evident," returned Richard,demonstrating his ability to consume food with relish by seizing upon asandwich and making away with it in short order.
Roberta rose. "I can eat no more," she said, "with that wonderful skybefore me out there." She escaped to the porch.
They all turned to exclaim at a gorgeous colouring beginning in thewest, heralding the sunset which was coming. Rosamond ran out also,Stephen following. Richard produced cigars.
"Have a smoke out here, Gray," said he, "while I put away the stuff. No,no help, thank you. James will be here, by and by, to pack it properly."
"Stephen"--Rosamond stood at the edge of the hill below theporch--"bring your cigar down here; it's simply perfect. You can lie onyour side here among the pine needles and watch the sky."
They went around a clump of trees to a spot where the pine needles werethick, just out of sight of the cabin door. No doubt but Rosamond andStephen liked to have things to themselves; there was no pretence aboutthat. It was almost the anniversary of their marriage--their most happymarriage.
Roberta stood still upon the porch, looking, or appearing to look, offat the sunset. Once again she would have liked to run away. But--whereto go? Rosamond and Stephen did not want her; it would have been absurdto insist on following them. If she herself should stroll away among thepine trees, she would, of course, be instantly pursued. The porch wasundoubtedly the most open and therefore the safest spot she could be in.So she leaned against the pillar and waited, her heart behavingdisturbingly meanwhile. She could hear Richard, within the cabinhurriedly clearing the table and stuffing everything away into thecupboards on either side of the fireplace--he was making short work ofit. Before she could have much time to think, his step was upon theporch behind her; he was standing by her shoulder.
"It's a wonderful effect, isn't it? Must we talk about it?" he inquiredsoftly.
"Don't you think it deserves to be talked about?" she answered, tryingto speak naturally.
"No. There's only one thing in the world I want to talk about. I can'teven see that sky, for looking at--you. I've stood at the top of thisslope more times than I can tell you, wondering if I should dare tobuild this little cabin. The idea possessed me, I couldn't get away fromit. I bought the land--and still I was afraid. I gave the order to thebuilder--and all but took it back. I knew I ran every kind of risk thatyou wouldn't understand me--that you would think I still had thatabominable confidence that I was fool enough to express to youlast--February. Does it look so?"
She nodded slowly w
ithout turning her head.
His voice grew even more solicitous; she could hear a little tremble init, such as surely had not been there last February, such as she hadnever heard there before. "But it isn't so! With every log that's gonein, a fresh fear has gone in with it. Even on the way here to-day I hadall I could do not to turn off some other way. The only thing that keptme coming on to meet my fate here, and nowhere else, was the hope thatyou loved the spot itself so well that you--that your heart would be abit softer here than--somewhere else. O Roberta--I'm not half goodenough for you, but--I love you--love you--"
His voice broke on the words. It surely was a very far from confidentsuitor who pleaded his case in such phrases as these. He did not so muchas take her hand, only waited there, a little behind her, his head bentso that he might see as much as he could of the face turned away fromhim.
She did not answer; something seemed to hold her from speech. One of herarms was twined about the rough, untrimmed pillar of the porch; herclasp tightened until she held it as if it were a bulwark against thehuman approach ready to take her from it at a word from her lips.
"I told you in my letter all I knew I couldn't say now. You know whatyou mean to me. I'm going to make all I can out of what there is in mewhether you help me or not. But--if I could do it for you--"
Still she could not speak. She clung to the pillar, her breathquickening. He was silent until he could withstand no longer, then hespoke so urgently in her ear that he broke in upon that queer, chokingreserve of hers which had kept her from yielding to him:
"Roberta--I _must_ know--I can't bear it."
She turned, then, and put out her hand. He grasped it in both his own.
"What does that mean, dear? May I--may I have the rest of you?"
It was only a tiny nod she gave, this strange girl, Roberta, who hadbeen so afraid of love, and was so afraid of it yet. And as if heunderstood and appreciated her fear, he was very gentle with her. Hisarms came about her as they might have come about a frightened child,and drew her away from the pillar with a tender insistence which all atonce produced an extraordinary effect. When she found that she was notto be seized with that devastating grasp of possession which she haddreaded, she was suddenly moved to desire it. His humbleness touched andmelted her--his humbleness, in him who had been at first soarrogant--and with the first exquisite rush of response she was takenout of herself. She gave herself to his embrace as one who welcomes it,and let him have his way--all his way--a way in which he quite forgot tobe gentle at all.
When this had happened, Roberta remembered, entirely too late, that itwas this which, whatever else she gave him, she had meant to refusehim--at least until to-morrow. Because to-day was undeniably thetwenty-fourth of June--Midsummer's Day!