THE FIFTH DAY
GUY CHELSEA TAKES CONTROL
"Now, Sir Boy," said Miss Charteris with decision, "this is your fifthday. Our time is nearly over. You have done most of the talking. Youhave had things entirely your own way. What? ... Oh, well, _almost_entirely your own way. I have allowed you to play your Old Testamentgame to your heart's content. With commendable adaptability, _I_ havebeen Jericho, and _you_ have marched round. I have been Jericho in myown garden, and have refreshed the invading army with hotbuttered-toast and explosive buns. Now it is my turn to take theinitiative. Jenkins having removed the tea, and it being too hot fortennis, I am going to ask you to sit still, while I explain to youquite clearly why I must send you away at the close of the seventh day."
She tried to hide her extreme trepidation beneath a tone of gay banter.She hoped it did not sound as forced to him as it did to herself. TheBoy's clear eyes were fixed upon her. Had he noticed the trembling ofher hands, before she steadied them by laying hold of the arms of herchair?
"So now for a serious talk, if you please, Sir Boy."
"Excuse me, dear," said the Boy, "the Israelites were not allowed toparley."
"You need not parley," said Miss Charteris; "you are requested merelyto listen. You may smoke if you like. I understand cigarette smoke isfatal to black-beetles. Possibly it has the same effect on gardeninsects. Russell tells me we are overrun by snails. Smoke, Boy, ifyou like."
"Dear," said the Boy, his head thrown back, his hands thrust deep intohis coat pockets, "I never have the smallest desire to smoke in yourpresence. I should feel as if I were smoking in church."
"Oh, you dear amazing altogether absurd boy! Don't look at me likethat. And don't say such unexpected things, or I shall be unable toparley satisfactorily."
"When _I_ went to school," remarked the Boy, "and you were an engaginglittle girl in a pigtail, I was taught to say: 'Do not look at me_thus_'; at least, masters frequently appeared to think it necessary tomake that remark to me. I can't imagine why; because they were notspecially worth looking at; excepting that a very large person, in avery angry condition, always presented a spectacle of extreme interestto my juvenile mind. It was so fascinating to watch and see what theywould do next. They were like those wooden monkeys and bears you buyin Swiss shops, don't you know? You pull a hanging string, and theirlegs and arms jump about unexpectedly. One always felt a really angrygrown-up was a mere puppet. Unseen fingers were pulling the string;and it was funny to watch. There was an exciting element of danger,too; because sometimes a hand jerked up and boxed your ears."
"Little Boy Blue," she said, "it must have been quite impossible everto be _mildly_ angry with you. Either one would have waxed impotentlyfurious; or one would have wanted to--to hug you!"
The Boy leapt up.
"Sit down," said Miss Charteris, "or I shall send you away. And I donot wish to do that; because I have quite made up my mind to tell youto-day, a thing which I suppose I ought to have told you long ago; andI tried to do so, Boy; but somehow you always made it impossible. Iwant to--to tell you about--the Professor." She paused.
It was so very difficult. It was like rolling a heavy stone up a steephill. And the Boy made no attempt to help her. He lay back with anexaggerated display of resignation. He looked at her with sleepy,amused eyes. And he asked no questions. The army of Israel obviouslydeclined to parley.
"I have long felt I ought to tell you about the Professor," continuedMiss Charteris.
The Boy sighed. "I think I jolly well know all there is to know aboutprofessors," he said.
"Not about this one," explained Miss Charteris. "He is _my_ Professor."
"Oh, if he's _your_ Professor," said the Boy, sitting up, "of course Iam interested. But I am not sure that I approve of you having a tameProfessor; especially when it arrives in goloshes, and leaves them inthe hall."
"I am afraid nobody will ask whether you approve or not, Little BoyBlue. The Professor has been a great friend of mine during nearlytwelve years; and I think I am possibly--in fact, very probably--goingto marry the Professor."
"Really?" said the Boy. "May I ask when he proposed?"
"He has not proposed, Boy."
The Boy produced his pocket-book, took out a calendar, and studied itattentively.
"Then I'm afraid you will have some time to wait," he said. "It willnot be leap year again until 1912."
This sounded impertinent; but the Boy could no more have been guilty ofintentional impertinence toward her, than he could have picked herpocket; and Miss Charteris knew it. There was one thing of which thosewho had dealings with Christobel Charteris could always besure--absolute justice. She had seen the Boy's face whiten suddenly,to a terrible pallor, beneath his tan. She knew he was making adesperate fight for self-control. How best could she help? Her ownpart seemed almost more than she could manage.
"Come here, Boy dear," she said, holding out her hand.
He hesitated one instant; then rose unsteadily to his feet, andcame--not to his usual place at the side, bending over her; but infront of her, on one knee, silently waiting.
She bent forward. "Take my hand, Boy."
He took it, in a firm unhesitating clasp. They held each other so, insilence. The colour came back into the Boy's face. The dumb horrordied out of his eyes. They smiled into hers again.
"Now promise me, Boy dear, that you will let me tell you all; and thatyou will try not to misunderstand."
"My dearest," said the Boy, "I promise. But I do not need to say Iwill try not to misunderstand. I could not misunderstand you, if Itried."
"Then go back to your chair, Boy."
He went. His eyes were bright again.
"Boy, please to understand that I am not engaged to the Professor. Ofcourse, had that been the case, I should have told you, long ago. Hehas never said one word to me of love or marriage. But he has been agreat friend--an intimate friend, intellectually; and I have reason toknow that he wishes--has wished for years--a good deal more than he hasever expressed to me. He has waited, Boy; and when anybody has waitednearly twelve years, could one fail them?"
"Why, of course!" cried the Boy, eagerly. "If a man could wait twelveyears--good heavens, why shouldn't he wait twenty! A man has nobusiness to wait; or to be able to wait; or to keep a woman waiting.Twelve years? Oh, I say! I didn't wait twelve days. Now, did I?"
She smiled. "You break all speed records, Boy, always. But cannot youunderstand that all men have not fifty thousand a year, and the worldat their feet? Had you been penniless, Boy, you--even you--would havehad to wait."
"Not a bit!" said the Boy, stoutly. "I would drive a cab, I wouldsweep a crossing, I would _do_ anything, or _be_ anything; but Iwouldn't wait for the woman I loved; nor would I"--his voice droppedalmost to a whisper--"keep the woman who loved me, waiting."
"But suppose she had a comfortable little income of her own; and youhad less--much less--to offer her? Surely, Boy, proper pride wouldkeep you from asking her to marry you, until your income at leastequalled hers?"
"Not a bit!" said the Boy. "That sort of rot isn't proper pride. It'sjust selfish false pride. However much a woman had, when a man--a_man_, mind you, not an old woman, or a _thing_ with no pluck orvertebra--when a man gives a woman his whole love, his whole life, theworship of his whole body, heart, and soul, he has given her that whichno money could buy; and were she a millionairess she would still bepoor if, from false pride, he robbed her of that gift which was his togive her--and perhaps his alone."
"Boy dear," she said, gently; "it sounds very plausible. But it is soeasy to be plausible with fifty thousand a year in the background. Letme tell you about the Professor. He has, of course, his fellowship,and is quite comfortably off now, living as a bachelor, in rooms. Buthe practically supports his unmarried sister, considerably older thanhimself, who lives in a tiny little villa, and keeps one maid. TheProfessor could not afford to marry, and set up a larger establishment
,on his present income; at least he apparently thinks he could not. Andyour theory of robbing the woman who--the woman he loves, does notappear to have occurred to him. But, during all these years he hasbeen compiling an Encyclopedia--I don't suppose you know what anEncyclopedia is, Boy."
"Oh, don't I?" said the Boy. "It's a thing you pile up on the floor tostand upon when you want to fix a new pipe-rack."
Miss Charteris ignored this trying definition of an Encyclopedia.
"The Professor is compiling a wonderful book," she said, with dignity;"and, when it is completed and published, he will be in a position tomarry."
"Has he told you so?" inquired the Boy.
"No, Boy. He has never mentioned the subject of marriage to me. Buthe has told his sister; and she has told me."
"Ha!" said the Boy. "Miss _H_ann, I suppose. I must say, I distrustMiss _H_ann."
"What do _you_ know of Miss Ann?" inquired Christobel, astonished.
"Only that she's always a-_h_egging of 'em on," said the Boy, calmly.
The indignant blood rushed into the fair proud face.
"Boy! You've been gossiping with Martha."
"I have, dear; I admit it. You see, I arrived early, on the third day;found the garden empty; went gaily into the house to look for you. Ranup into the hall; when up got a pair of old goloshes--eh, what? Oh,sorry--up got a pair of _new_ goloshes, and hit me in the eye! Aprofessor's cap and gown hung up, as if at home; and while I meditatedupon these things, the voice of my Beloved was uplifted in loud andsonorous Greek, exclaiming: 'Avaunt, rash youth! Thou impudentintruder!' Can you wonder that I avaunted--to Martha?"
"You will please tell me at once all Martha said to you."
"Of course I will, dear. Don't be vexed. I always meant to tell you,some time or other. I asked her whose were the goloshes; the umbrellawith the--er--decided figure; the suspended cap and gown. Martha saidthey were the Professor's. I inquired whether the Professor stayed totea. You really can't blame me for asking that; because I had gone tothe kitchen for the express purpose of carrying out the tea-tray, yoursand mine; but _not_ the Professor's. No possible pleasure could haveresulted, either to you, or to me, or to the Professor, from myunexpected appearance with the tea-tray, if the Professor had beenthere. Now could it? I think it would be nice of you, dear, and onlyfair, if, remembering the peculiar circumstances of that afternoon, youjust said: 'No; it couldn't.'
"Well, I asked Martha whether the Professor stayed to tea, and heardthat 'Thank goodness, no!' we drew the line at that, except when Miss_H_ann came too. With the awful possibility of Miss _H_ann 'comingtoo,' on one of my priceless days, I naturally desired a little lightthrown on Miss _H_ann. I was considerably relieved to learn that Miss_H_ann suffers from the peculiar complaint--mental, I gather--of'fancying herself in a bath-chair.' This might be no hindrance to the'_h_egging on' propensities, but it certainly diminished the chances ofthe 'coming too.' That was all, dear."
"Boy, you ought to have been ashamed of yourself!"
"So I was, the moment I saw you walk down the lawn. But you reallyneedn't look so indignant. I was working for you, at the same time."
"Working for me?"
"Yes, dear. I told Martha her wisps would look nicer if she curledthem. I also suggested 'invisible pins.' If you like I will tell youhow I came to know about 'invisible pins'; but it is a very long story,and not _specially_ interesting, for the lady in the case was mygreat-aunt."
"Oh, Boy," said Miss Charteris, laughing in spite of herself; "I wishyou were the size of my Little Boy Blue on the sands at Dovercourt. Iwould dearly like to shake you."
"Well," he said, "you did more than shake me, just now. You gave meabout the worst five minutes I ever had in my life. Christobel? Youdon't really care about the Professor?"
"Boy, dear, I really do. I have cared about him very much, for years."
"Yes, as a woman loves a book; but not as a woman loves a man."
"Explain your meaning, please."
"Oh, hang it all!" exclaimed the Boy, violently. "Do you love hismouth, his eyes, his hair----?" The Boy choked, and stopped short.
Miss Charteris considered, and replied with careful deliberation. "Ido not know that I have ever seen his mouth; he wears a beard. Hiseyes are not strong, but they look very kind through his glasses. Hishair? Well, really, he has not much to speak of. But all these thingsmatter very little. His _mind_ is great and beautiful; his thoughtsappeal to me. I understand his way of viewing things: he understandsmine. It would be a wonderful privilege to be able to make life easyand happy for one for whom I have so profound a respect and esteem. Ihave looked upon it, during the last few years, as a privilege whichis, eventually, to be mine."
"Christobel," cried the Boy, "it is wrong, it is terrible! It is notthe highest. I can't stand it, and I won't. I will not let you giveyourself to a wizened old bookworm----"
"Be quiet, Boy," she said, sharply. "Do you wish to make me reallyangry? The Professor is not old. He is only fourteen years my senior.To your extreme youth, fifty may seem old. The Professor is in hisprime. I am afraid we have nothing to gain, Boy, by prolonging thisdiscussion."
"But we can't leave it at this," said the Boy, desperately. "Where doI come in?"
"My Little Boy Blue, I am afraid you don't come in at all, excepting asa very sweet idyll which, all through the years to come, I shall neverforget. You begged for your seven days, and I gave them. But I neverled you to assume I could say 'Yes.' Now listen, Boy, and I will tellyou the honest truth. I do not know that I am ever going to marry theProfessor. I only feel pledged to him from the vague belief that weeach consider the other is waiting. Don't break your heart over it,Boy; because it is more than likely it will never come to pass.But--even were there no Professor--oh, Boy dear, I could not marry you.I love my Little Boy Blue more tenderly and deeply than I have everbefore loved anything or any one on this earth. But I could not marrya boy, however dearly I loved him; however sweet was his love to me. Iam a woman grown, and I could surrender myself wholly, only to a manwho would wholly be my mate and master. I cannot pretend to call myLittle Boy Blue 'the _man_ I love,' because he is really dearest to mewhen I think of him, with expectation in his baby-eyes, trotting downthe sands to find his cannon-ball.... Oh, Boy, I am hurting you! Ihate to hurt you, Boy. Your love is so beautiful. Nothing as perfectwill ever touch my life again. Yet I cannot, honestly, give what youask.... Boy dear, ought I to have told you, quite plainly, sooner? Ifso, you must forgive me."
The Boy had risen, and stood before her. "You always do the rightthing," he said, "and never, under any circumstances, could there beanything for me to forgive you. I have been an egregious young ass. Ihave taken things for granted, all along the line. What must you thinkof me! Why should you care? _You_, with your intellectualattainments, your honours, your high standing in the world of books?_Why_ should you care, Christobel? Why _should_ you care?"
He stood before her, straight and tall and desperately implacable. Theexuberant youth had died out of his face. For the first time, shecould not see in him her Little Boy Blue.
"Why should you care?" he said again.
She rose and faced him. "But I _do_ care, Boy," she said. "How dareyou pretend to think I don't? I care very tenderly and deeply."
"Pooh!" said the Boy. "Do you suppose I wished you to marry abare-toed baby, with sand on its nose?" He laughed wildly; paused andlooked at her, then laughed again. "A silly little ass that said itdidn't like girls? Oh, I say! I think it's about time I was off.Will you walk down to the gate? ... Thanks. You are always mostawfully good to me. I say, Miss Charteris, may I ask the Professor'sname?"
"Harvey," she said, quietly. "Kenrick Harvey." The dull anguish ather heart seemed almost more than she could bear. Yet what could shesay or do? He was merely accepting her own decision.
"Harvey?" he said. "Why of course I know him. He's not much to lookat, is he? But we always
thought him an awfully good sort, and kind asthey make 'em. We considered him a confirmed bachelor; but--well, wedidn't know he was waiting."
They had reached the postern gate. Oh, would he see the growing painin her eyes? What was she losing? What had she lost? Why did herwhole life seem passing out through that green gate?
"Good-bye," he said, "and please forget all the rot I talked aboutJericho. It goes with the spade and bucket, and all the rest. Youhave been most awfully kind to me, all along. But the very kindestthing you can do now, is to forget all the impossible things I thoughtand said... Allow me.... I'll shut the door."
He put up his hand, to lift his cap; but he was bareheaded. He laughedagain; turned, and passed out.
"Boy! Boy! Come back," said Christobel. But the door had closed onthe first word.
She stood alone.
This time she did not wait. Where was the good of waiting?
She turned and walked slowly up the lawn, pausing to look at theflowers in the border. The yellow roses still looked golden. Thejolly little "what-d'-you-call-'ems" lifted pale purple faces to thesky.
But the Boy was gone.
She reached her chair, where he had placed it, deep in the shade of themulberry-tree. She felt tired; worn-out; old.
The Boy was gone.
She leaned back with closed eyes. She had hurt him so. She rememberedall the glad, sweet confident things he had said each day. Now she hadhurt him so.... What radiant faith, in love and in life, had been his.But she had spoiled that faith, and dimmed that brightness.
Suddenly she remembered his dead mother's prayer for him. "_I haveprayed for thee, that thy faith fail not_." And under those words shehad written "_Christobel_." Would he want to obliterate that name?No, she knew he would not. Nothing approaching a hard or a bitterthought could ever find a place in his heart. It would always be thegolden heart of her little Boy Blue.
Tears forced their way beneath her closed lashes, and rolled slowlydown her cheeks.
"Oh, Boy dear," she said aloud, "I love you so--I love you so!"
"I know you do, dear," he said. "It's almost unbelievable--yet I knowyou do."
She opened her eyes. The Boy had come back. She had not heard hislight step, on the springy turf. He knelt in his favourite place, onthe left of her chair, and bent over her. Once more his face wasradiant. His faith had not failed.
She looked up into his shining eyes, and the joy in her own heart madeher dizzy.
"Boy dear," she whispered, "not my lips, because--I am not altogetheryours--I may have to--you know?--the Professor. But, oh Boy, I can'thelp it! I'm afraid I care terribly."
He was quite silent; yet it seemed to her that he had shouted. A burstof trumpet-triumph seemed to fill the air.
He bent lower. "Of course I wouldn't, Christobel," he said; "notbefore the seventh day. But there's a lot beside lips, and it's all sodear."
Then she felt the Boy's kisses on her hair, on her brow, on her eyes."Dear eyes," he said, "shedding tears for my pain. Ah, dear eyes!"And he kissed them again.
She put up her hand, to push him gently away. He captured it, and heldit to his lips.
"Stop, Boy dear," she said. "Be good now, and sit down."
He slipped to the grass at her feet, and rested his head against herknee.
She stroked his hair, with gentle, tender touch. Her Little Boy Bluehad come back to her. Oh, bliss unutterable! Why worry about thefuture?
"How silly we were, dear!" he said. "How silly to suppose we couldpart like that--you and I!" Then his sudden merry laugh rang out--oh,such music! such sweet music! "I say, Christobel," he said, "it is allvery well _now_ to say 'Stop, and be good.' But on the seventh day,when the walls fall down, and I march up into the citadel, I shall giveyou millions of kisses--or will it be _billions_?"
"Judging from my knowledge of you, Boy dear," she said, "I rather_think_ it would be billions."
Later, as they stood once more by the postern gate, he turned, framedin the doorway, smiling a last gay good-bye.
It was their second parting that day, and how different from the first.There was to be a third, unlike either, before the day was over; butits approach was, as yet, unsuspected.
But as he stood in the doorway, full in a shaft of sunlight, the gladcertainty in his eyes smote her with sudden apprehension.
"Oh, Boy dear," she said, "take care! You are building castles again.They will tumble about our ears. I haven't promised you anything,Little Boy Blue of mine; and I am afraid I shall _have_ to marry theProfessor."
"If you do, dear," he said, "I shall have to give him a new umbrella asa wedding present!" And the Boy went whistling down the lane.
But, out of sight of the postern gate and of the woman who, leaningagainst it, watched him to the turning, he dropped his bounding stepand jaunty bearing. His face grew set and anxious; his walk, perplexed.
"Oh, God," said the Boy, as he walked, "don't let me lose her!"
A few minutes later, a telegram was put into his hand from the friendleft on the coast, in charge of his newest aeroplane.
"_Arrange Channel flight, if possible, day after to-morrow_."
"Not I," said the Boy, crumpling the message into his pocket. "The dayafter to-morrow is the seventh day."
* * * * *
He was dining with friends, but an unaccountable restlessness seizedhim during the evening. He made his excuses, and returned to the BullHotel soon after nine o'clock. The hall-porter at once handed him anote, left by special messenger, ten minutes earlier. It was marked"urgent." The handwriting was Christobel's.
The Boy flung away his cigarette, tore the note open, and turned to alight. It was very short and clear.
"_Boy dear,--I must see you at once. You will find me in the garden._
"_Christobel._"
* * * * *
When the Boy had turned the corner and disappeared, Miss Charterispassed through the little postern gate, and moved slowly up the lawn.Ah, how different to her sad return from that gate an hour before!
The William Allen Richardsons still opened their golden hearts to thesunset. The jolly little "what-d'-you-call-'ems" still lifted theirpurple faces to the sky. But instead of stabbing her with agony, theysang a fragrant psalm of love.
Ah, why was the Boy so dear? Why was the Boy so near? She had watchedhim go striding down the lane, yet he still walked beside her; his gayyoung laugh of glad content was in her ears; his pure young kisses onher brow and eyes; his head against her knee.
Just as she reached the mulberry, Jenkins hastened from the house. Thenote he brought, in a familiar handwriting, thin and pointed, wasmarked "urgent" in one corner, and "immediate" in the other; but MissAnn's notes usually were one or other. This happened to be both.
"You need not wait, Jenkins," she said.
She stood close to a spreading branch of the mulberry. Her tall headwas up among the moving leaves. Whispering, they caressed her.Something withheld her from entering the soft shade, sacred to herselfand the Boy. She stood, to read Ann Harvey's letter.
As she read, every vestige of colour left her face. Bending over theletter, she might have been a sorely troubled and perplexed replica ofthe noble Venus of Milo.
Folding the letter, she went slowly up the lawn, still wearing thatwhite look of cold dismay. She spoke to Martha through the openwindow, keeping her face out of sight.
"Martha," she said, "I am obliged to go immediately to Miss Ann. If Iam not back by eight o'clock, I shall be remaining with her fordinner." She passed on, and Martha turned to Jenkins.
By the way, Jenkins was having an unusually festive time. During thelast twenty-four hours, Martha had been kinder to him than he had everknown her to be. He was now comfortably ensconced in the Windsorarmchair in a corner of the kitchen, reading yesterday's daily paper,and enjoying his pipe. Never before had his pipe been allowed in thekitchen; but he had just be
en graciously told he might bring it in, ifhe wouldn't be "messy with the _h_ashes"; Mrs. Jenkins volunteering theadditional remarkable information, that it was "good for the beetles."Jenkins was doubtful as to whether this meant that his pipe gavepleasure to the beetles, or the reverse; but experience had taught himthat a condition of peaceful uncertainty in his own mind was to bepreferred to a torrent of vituperative explanation from Martha. Hetherefore also received in silence the apparently unnecessaryinjunction not to go "crawlin' about all over the floor"; it took "afigure to do that!"
Eight o'clock came, and Miss Charteris had not returned.
"Remaining with 'er for dinner," pronounced Martha, flinging open theoven, and wrathfully relegating to the larder the chicken she had beenroasting with extreme care; "an' a precious poor dinner it'll be!Jenkins, _you_ may 'ave this sparrow-grass. _I_ 'aven't the 'eart.An' me 'oping she'd 'ave 'ad the sense to keep _'im_ to dinner; knowingas there was a chicking an' 'grass for two. Now what's took Miss_H_ann 'urgent and immediate,' I'd like to know!" continued Martha,deriving considerable comfort from banging the plates and tumblers onto the kitchen table, with just as much violence as was consistent withtheir personal safety, as she walked round it, laying the table forsupper. "Ate a biscuit, I should think, an' flown to 'er cheat. I'veno patience; no, _that_ I 'aven't!" And Martha attacked the loaf, withfury.
At a quarter before nine, Miss Charteris returned. In a few momentsthe bell summoned Jenkins. The note he was to take was also marked"Immediate." He left it on the kitchen table, and, while he changedhis coat, Martha fetched her glasses. Then she followed him to thepantry.
"'Ere, run man!" she said, "run! Never mind your muffler. Who wants amuffler in June? _'E_'s in it! It's something more than a biscuit.Drat that woman!"
* * * * *
A quarter of an hour later, a tall white figure moved noiselessly downthe lawn, to the seats beneath the mulberry. The full moon was justrising above the high red wall, gliding up among the trees, huge andgolden through their branches. Christobel Charteris waited in thegarden for the Boy.
He came.
By then, the lawn was bathed in moonlight. She saw him, tall and slim,in the conventional black and white of a man's evening dress, passsilently through the postern gate. She noted that he did not bang it.He came up the lawn slowly--for him. He wore no hat, and everyclear-cut feature of the clean-shaven young face showed up in themoonlight.
At the mulberry, he paused, uncertain; peering into the dark shadow.
"Christo_bel_?" he said, softly.
"Boy dear; I am here. Come."
He came; feeling his way among the chairs, and moving aside a table,which stood between.
He found her, sitting where he had found her, on his return, threehours before. A single ray of moonlight pierced the thick foliage ofthe mulberry, and fell across her face. He marked its unusual pallor.He stood before her, put one hand on each arm of her chair, and bentover her.
"What is it?" he said, softly. "What is it, dear heart? It is sowonderful to be wanted, and sent for. But let me know quickly that youare not in any trouble."
She looked up at him dumbly, during five, ten, twenty seconds. Thenshe said: "Boy, I have something to tell you. Will you help me to tellit?"
"Of course I will," he said. "How can I help best?"
"I don't know," she answered. "Oh, I _don't_ know!"
He considered a moment. Then he sat down on the grass at her feet, andleaned his head against her knees. She passed her fingers softlythrough his hair.
"What happened after I had gone?" asked the Boy.
"Jenkins brought me a note from Miss Harvey, asking me to come to herat once, to hear some very wonderful news, intimately affectingherself, and the Professor, and--and me. She wrote very ecstaticallyand excitedly, poor dear. She always does. Of course, I went."
"Well?" said the Boy, gently. The pause was so very long, that itseemed to require supplementing. He felt for the other hand, which hadbeen holding the lace at her breast, and drew it to his lips. It waswet with tears.
The Boy started. He sat up; turned, resting his arm upon her lap, andtried to see her face.
"Go on, dear," he said. "Get it over."
"Boy," said Miss Charteris, "a rich old uncle of the Harveys has died,leaving the Professor a very considerable legacy, sufficient to makehim quite independent of his fellowship, and of the production of theEncyclopedia."
"Well?"
"They are very happy about it, naturally. Poor Ann is happier than Ihave ever seen her. And the chief cause of their joy appears to bethat now the Professor is, at last, in a position to marry."
"Well?"
"I have not seen him yet, but Miss Ann is full of it. She told me agood many very touching things. I had no idea it had meant so much--tohim--all these years.--Boy dear?"
"Yes."
"I shall have to marry the Professor."
No answer.
"I don't know how to make you understand why I feel so bound to them.They were very old friends of my father and mother. They were so goodto me through all the days of sorrow, when I was left alone. Miss Annis a great invalid, and very dependent upon love and care, and upon notbeing thwarted in her little hopes and plans. She expects to come andlive in--in her brother's home. She knows I should love to have her.And he has done so much for me, intellectually; so patiently kept mymind alive, when it was inclined to stagnate; and working, when itwould have grown slack. He has given up hours of his valuable time tome, every week, for years."
No answer.
Suddenly the moonlight, through an opening in the mulberry leaves, fellupon his upturned face. She saw the anguish in his eyes. She turnedhis head away, resting it against her knee, and clasped her hands uponit.
"Boy dear; it is terribly hard for us, I know. In a most extraordinaryway--in a way I cannot understand--you have won my body. It yearns tobe with you; it aches if you suffer; it lives in your gladness; itgrows young in your youth. Nobody else has ever made me feel this; Ido not suppose anybody else ever will. But--oh Boy--bodies are noteverything. Bodies are the least of all. And I think--I _think_ theProfessor holds my mind. He won it long ago. I have grown much oldersince then, and very tired of waiting. But I can look back to the timewhen I used to think the greatest privilege in the world would be, tobe the--to marry the Professor."
She paused, and waited.
"Bodies count," said the Boy, in a low voice. "You'll jolly well find,that bodies count."
It was such a relief to hear him speak at last.
"Oh, I know, Boy dear," she said. "But more between some, than others.The Professor and I are united, primarily, on the mental and spiritualplane. Being so sure of this, realizing the difference, makes it lesshard, in a way, to--to give up my Little Boy Blue. Boy dear, you musthelp me; because I love you as I have never loved anybody else in thisworld before; as I know I never shall love again. But I am bound inhonour not to disappoint the man who _knows_ I have waited for him.Miss Ann admitted to me to-night that she has told him. She said, inthe first moments of joy she _had_ to tell him; he was so anxious; andso diffident. Boy dear, had it not been for that, I think I shouldhave begged off. But--as he knows--as they have trusted me--dear, wemust say 'good-bye' to-night. He is going to write to me to-morrow,asking if he may come. I shall say: 'Yes.' ... Boy dear? Is it veryhard? ... Oh, can't you see where duty comes in? There can be no truehappiness if one has failed to be true to what one knows is just andright.... Can't you realize, Boy, that _they_ have been everything tome for seven _years_? _You_ have come in, for seven _days_."
"Time is nothing," said the Boy, suddenly. "You and I are one,Christobel; eternally, indissolubly _one_. You will find it out, whenit is too late. Age is nothing! Time is nothing! Love is all!"
She hesitated. The Boy's theories were so vital, so vigorous, soassured. Was she making a mistake? There was no question as to thepain involved by he
r decision; but was that pain to result as shebelieved, in higher good to all; or was it to mean irreparable loss?The very knowledge that her body so yearned for him, led her toemphasize the fact that the Boy could not--oh surely could not--be afit mate for her mind. Yet he was so confident, so sure of himself, inregard to her, on every point; so unhesitatingly certain that they weremeant for each other.
And then she saw Ann Harvey, with clasped hands, saying: "_Darling_child, forgive me, but I _had_ to tell Kenrick! He is so _humble_--hewas so _diffident_, so doubtful of his own powers of attraction. I_had_ to tell him that I knew you had been very fond of him for_years_. I did not say much, sweet child; but just enough to give dearKenrick _hope_ and _confidence_."
She could see Miss Ann's delicate wrinkled face; the tearful eyes; thelavender ribbons on her lace cap; the mysterious hair-brooch, fasteningthe old lace at her neck. The scene was photographed upon her memory;for, in that moment, Hope--the young Hope, born of the youthful Boy andhis desires--had died. Christobel Charteris had taken up the burden oflife; a life apart from the seven days' romance, created by the amazingover-confidence of her Little Boy Blue.
The masterful man attracts; but, in the end, it is usually thediffident man who wins. The innate unselfishness of the noblest typeof woman, causes her to yield more readily to the insistence of herpity than to the force of her desire. In these cases, marriage andmartyrdom are really--though unconsciously--synonymous; and the samepure, holy courage which went smiling to the stake, goes smiling to thealtar. Does a martyr's crown await it, in another world? Possibly.The only perplexing question, in these cases, being: What awaits thewrecked life of "the other man"?
Christobel Charteris had put her hand to the plough; she would not lookback.
"Little Boy Blue," she said, "you must say 'good-bye' and go. I amgoing to marry the Professor quite soon, and I must not see you again.Say 'good-bye,' Boy dear."
Then the Boy's anguish broke through all bounds. He flung his armsaround her, and hid his face in her lap. A sudden throb of speechlessagony seemed to overwhelm them both, submerging all arguments, allcasuistry, all obligations to others, in a molten ocean of love andpain.
Then she heard the Boy pray: "O God, give her to me! Give her to me!O God, give her to me!"
"Hush, Boy," she said; "oh, hush!"
He was silent at once.
Then bending, she gathered him to her, holding his face against herbreast; sheltering him in the tenderness of her arms. He had neverseemed so completely her own Little Boy Blue as in that moment, whenshe listened to his hopeless prayer: "O God, give her to me!" This wasthe Little Boy Blue who tried to carry cannon-balls; who faced theworld, with sand upon his nose; cloudless faith in his bright eyes;indomitable courage in his heart. She forgot the man's estate to whichhe had attained; she forgot the man's request to which she had given afinal denial. She held him as she had first longed to do, when hisnurse, in unreasonable wrath, shook him on the sands; she rocked himgently to and fro, as his dead mother might have done, long years ago."Oh, my Little Boy Blue, my Little Boy Blue!" she said.
Suddenly she felt the Boy's hot tears upon her neck.
Then, in undreamed of pain, her heart stood still. Then the fullpassion of her tenderness awoke, and found voice in an exceeding bittercry.
"Oh, I cannot bear it! I cannot bear it! Boy dear, oh, Boy dear, youshall have all you wish--all--all! ... Do you hear, my Little Boy Blue?It shall all be for you, darling; all for you! Nobody else matters.You shall have all you want--all--all--all!"
Silence under the mulberry-tree; the silence of a great decision.
Then he drew himself gently but firmly from her arms.
He stood before her, tall, erect, unbending. The moonlight fell uponhis face. It had lost its look of youth, taking on a new power. Itwas the face of a man; and of a man who, having come to a decision,intended, at all costs, to abide by it.
"No, Christobel," he said. "No, my Beloved. I could not accepthappiness--even _such_ happiness--at so great a cost to you. Therecould be no bliss for you, no peace, no satisfaction, even in our greatlove, if you had gone against your supreme sense of duty; your own highconception of right and wrong. Also, Christobel, dearest--you must notgive yourself in a rush of emotion. You must give yourselfdeliberately where your mind has chosen, and where your great soul iscontent. That being so, I must be off, Christobel; and don't you worryabout me. You've been heavenly good to me, dear; and I've put youthrough so much. I will go up to town to-night. I shall not comeback, unless you send for me. But when you want me and send--why, myLove, I will come from the other end of the world."
He stooped and took both her hands in his; lifted them reverently,tenderly, to his lips; held them there one moment, then laid them backupon her lap, and turned away.
She saw him walk down the moonlit lawn, tall and erect. She saw himpass through the gate, without looking back. She heard it closequietly--not with the old boyish bang--yet close irrevocably,decisively.
Then she shut her eyes, and began again to rock gently to and fro.Little Boy Blue was still in her arms; it comforted her to rock himthere. But the man who had arisen and left her, when he might, takingadvantage of her weakness, have won her against her own conscience andwill; the man who, mastering his own agony, had thus been brave andstrong for her--had carried her whole heart with him, when he went outthrough the postern gate.
In rising, he left the Boy in her arms. Through the long hard years tocome, she prayed she might keep him there--her own Little Boy Blue.
But he who went out alone, for her sake to face life without her, was_the man she loved_.
She knew it, at last.
* * * * *
"_And the evening and the morning were the fifth day_."
* * * * *