CHAPTER XXII
TOASTS
They drove downtown for many blocks, turning at last into an old andstill notable square which is one of the great town's almost untouchedresidence districts, in the very heart of its teeming commercial life.Here, all at once, the noise of traffic was quieted. Only as a distantand not too disturbing murmur came the sounds of the warfare which ragedso near. At one of the dingy but still stately old houses the car drewup, the chauffeur alighted and opened the door. He escorted thetravelers up the steps and rang the bell.
The door was opened by a lad in plain livery, and he was reinforcedimmediately by a middle-aged housekeeper who came forward and took theguests in charge. She had a rosy face and iron-gray hair and her accentwas distinctly Scotch.
"I am Mrs. MacFayden, Doctor Craig's hoose-keeper," she said. "DoctorCraig is mair than sorry not to be here to greet ye baith. He tell't meto say ye should mak' yersels quite at hame, and should hae yer dinnerswi'oot waitin' for him. If Maister Warne should be tae weary tae sit uplonger, he should gang awa' tae his bed. I know Doctor Craig will mak'all the haste posseeble, but 'tis seldom he can carry oot his ain plans,for the press o' sick folks aifter him day an' nicht."
"Doctor Craig is very kind," said Mr. Warne. "If it will not seemdiscourteous I think I shall lie down upon my bed, for I am notaccustomed to travel and am a little tired."
"That wull be the best thing posseeble for ye," said the kindlyhousekeeper, leading the way upstairs. "Tammas, ye'll bring the luggage.I should advise, Maister Warne, havin' a small tray in your room an'then attemptin' no mair than juist tae see Doctor Craig, when he coomstae say gude nicht."
She led her guests into a large, square, pleasant room, furnished withold mahogany. A cheery fire was burning in a fireplace. She opened asecond door, and showed a connecting room, of lesser size but veryattractive.
"The Doctor often has special patients stayin' in these rooms," shesaid, "but fortunately they were emptied three days agone, and kept forye. The Doctor has always some puir soul he wants to mak' comfortable.I'm glad 'tis guests this time he has, an' no patients. He needs toforget his wark when he cooms hame, but 'tis seldom he has theopportunity."
She left them, saying that if the Doctor had not returned by eight shewould serve dinner for Miss Warne alone.
"No, please, Mrs. MacFayden," begged Georgiana. "If my father has histray here I will see him to his bed. I really do not care for dinner atall."
The housekeeper smiled. "The Doctor would na' be pleased wi' me, if Ilet ye go dinnerless," she said. "But I'm thinkin' we'll see him soon.Wull ye coom doon to the library, Miss Warne, when ye're ready? 'Tis thedoor at the right o' the front entrance. The door on the left is thewaitin' room, an' the Doctor does na' keep office hours at nicht."
With a fast-beating heart Georgiana set about making ready for thatdescent to the library. The whole affair was becoming more and more astrain upon her nerves. If Doctor Craig had met them at the station itwould have been far easier for her than this. But here she was, actuallyin his house, combing her hair in his guest-room, going down to dinnerat his table--and she had not seen or heard from him, except bytelegram, since the hour when he had given her hand that meaningpressure and left her with her friends. It was an extraordinaryexperience, to say the least.
She wondered how she should dress for dinner--the dinner that she mighteat alone! She had only her traveling suit and one simple little graysilk, dyed from a white "Semi-Annual" and made very simply, with a widecollar and cuffs of white net. Anybody but Georgiana would have lookedlike a Quakeress in the gray silk, but with her dark hair and warmcolouring she succeeded only in imitating a young nun but just removedfrom scenes of worldly gayety! She decided that the hour and theoccasion called for this frock, and put it on with fingers which shook alittle.
Eight o'clock. She dared wait no longer, so, making sure that herfather, having eaten and drunk, was resting luxuriously on his bed, sheopened her door. The house seemed very quiet, and she went slowly alongthe upper hall, and after pausing a moment at the top of the finestaircase with its white spindles and mahogany rail, she began todescend. The steps were heavily padded and her footfall made no sound;therefore, as she afterward realized, a very close watch must have beenkept, for the moment she came in sight of the open library door a figureappeared there.
The next moment Jefferson Craig had crossed the hall and was standing atthe foot of the staircase, looking up at the descending guest. Theguest, naturally enough, paused, four stairs up, looking down. Thelight, from a quaint lantern hood of wrought iron and crystal hangingabove the newel post, shone full upon the dark head and vivid faceabove the demure gray frock with its nunlike broad collar and cuffs ofthin white.
The man below looked for a full minute without speaking, but Georgianacould not have told what expression was upon his face or whether hesmiled. She knew that at the end of that long look he stretched one armtoward her, and that obeying the gesture which was all but a command shecame on down those four remaining steps. Jefferson Craig led her intothe library, where a great fire sparkled and leaped and filled the room,otherwise sombre with books, full of welcoming cheer. He closed thedoor, then led her to the hearth.
"Where shall we begin?" he said, in that low but very distinct voice sheso well remembered. "Where we left off?"
"I'm not," answered Georgiana, looking away from him into the fire,whose light flashed in her eyes less disconcertingly than that which shesomehow knew leaped in his, "sure where we left off."
"Aren't you? I am. We left off where we had each seen, for just oneinstant, into the other's heart. And having seen there was noforgetting--no?--Georgiana?"
She shook her head.
"It was good of you to come to me," he said very gently. Her hand wasstill held fast in his. "I did my best to have it the other way--theusual way. There seemed a fate against it. I could have written, butsomehow I didn't want to. I preferred to wait--with the memory of yourface always before me, till I could see it again. And now that I seeit--bent down--and turned away"--he laughed a low laugh of content--"oh,look up, Georgiana! Surely you're not afraid now. You know I've beenloving you ever since I saw you first, in spite of thinking I must not,because of the one I understood you belonged to----"
She looked up then out of sheer astonishment. "Oh, no, not since you sawme first," she disputed. "It couldn't be--and I thinking all thewhile----" She stopped in confusion at the revelation she might bemaking.
But he caught her up. "You thinking all the while--what? Tell me!"
"I thought--you hadn't the least interest in me."
"Did you care whether I had or not?"
"I--tried not to care," confessed Georgiana naively. She smiled, asparkling little smile. It was so clear now, that he wanted thisconfession.
He looked at her for a minute longer, then he said: "Don't you thinkenough has been said to warrant--this?"
It was then that Georgiana learned how little one may judge from outwardquiet of manner and controlled speech what may happen when the heart isallowed to speak for itself.
"Forgive me," he said at last, when he had released her, all enchantingconfusion under his intent gaze; "but you know the breaking up of afamine sometimes makes human beings hard to manage. If you could knowthe times I've watched you, when you were bent over my illegible fist ofcopy, and thought how I should like just to put my hand on yourbeautiful hair----"
A knock sounded upon the door. With an exclamation of annoyance DoctorCraig left Georgiana and opened it.
"Dinner is served, sir," announced Thomas, the boy.
His master turned back with a laughing, remorseful face. "I hadforgotten all about dinner," he said, "though now I come to think of itI believe I had no luncheon. You must be famishing. Mrs. MacFayden tellsme your father is resting. We will go up and see him--before dinner orafter?"
"I think he will drop off to sleep for a little, he is so tired, andthen wake by and by and be ready to see you."
"Good! It
couldn't be better. I am eager to see Mr. Warne, but I wanthim to be ready for me--who have so much to ask of him. Meanwhile--shallwe go?"
He offered her his arm, such graceful deference in his manner that shefelt afresh the wonder of his wish to transplant her from her world tohis. As they walked slowly through the dignified old hall he said in atone of great satisfaction: "Mrs. MacFayden has ventured to hint to memore than once that this house is of the sort which needs a mistress.To-night, when she saw me come in, she said to me very respectfully:'It's a gled day for ye, Doctor, an' now that I've seen the lassie I cancongratulate ye wi' all mae hert. She'll mak' a bonny lady to be at thehead o' the hoose, if ye'll permit me to say the thocht.' I assure you,Georgiana, the conquest of my good Scottish housekeeper upon sight is nosmall achievement."
"It must have been my gray gown and white cuffs," suggested the girldemurely.
He looked down at the hand resting on his arm. "Now that I have time tolook at anything but your face," he said, "I see that you are wearingsomething very satisfying to the eye. I like simple things, such as Ihave always seen you wear."
With inward astonishment and congratulation Georgiana thought of all thedyed and reconstructed "Semi-Annuals" which had marched in a frugalprocession across his vision during the past year. Suddenly she felt anaffection for the very frock she wore, difficult as had been itsachievement from the materials in hand. Certainly, women in beautifuland wonderful clothing, such as he saw daily, had had no chance with himagainst the attraction of herself in the cleverly adapted makeshifts ofher own fingers. It was the girl who had made the most of herself andher home out of her restricted means who had drawn to her side this manwhose judgment must approve his love or he could never love at all.
Things hadn't been so unequal after all. The wise God, who had set herlife thus far in the midst of poverty, had given her with which to fightit the wit and resource which fashion weapons out of materials whichmore favoured mortals cast away. That greatest of gifts bestowed uponthe daughters of men had been hers--the creative touch. At last sherecognized it, and knew it for what it was. Using this good gift she hadlearned other things than the making of clothes!
A great warm surge of joy and understanding enveloped Georgiana Warne asJefferson Craig, having led her into the dining-room and placed herceremoniously in her chair, bent over her where she sat, saying softly:
"This place has been waiting a long time at the bachelor's board. Nowthat I see it filled--like this--I know how well worth while it's beento wait."
He took the place opposite her. With a nod at the boy Thomas, hedismissed him for the moment. He looked across the table, rich with thefinest appointments in his house, arranged by a housekeeper who heartilyapproved his everyday simplicity of life, but who exulted to-night inthe chance to show the lady of his choice the fine old heirlooms ofsilver and damask which were to come to her. Smiling, he lifted adelicately chased goblet of water which stood beside his plate.
"To my wife!" he said.
Georgiana, raising the face of a rose, took up her own glass. She lookedat it a moment, her eyes like dark twin fires, her lips taking on lovelycurves. Then she lifted it toward the man opposite.
"To--_you_!"
"Still afraid?" asked Jefferson Craig, watching her as one watches onlythat which is the delight of his eyes. "Never mind; I'll teach you byand by the word I want to hear."
* * * * *
Upstairs, the slender figure on the bed stirred from the brief sleepwhich had claimed it. Father Davy opened his eyes again upon the firelitroom and the pleasant comfort which surrounded him.
"Before they come," he thought, "I must tell my Father how I feel aboutit. I was too tired even to pray. But I am quite rested now."
He slipped down gently to his knees and closed his eyes, folding histhin hands on the heavy white counterpane before him.
"Dear God," he said, "I have the desire of my heart--the answer to myprayers--and I am very glad to-night. Yet Thou knowest my heart isheavy, too--with longing for my Phoebe. Tell her, Father, that her childis happy in the love of the best man she could have asked for. And tellher that David loves and longs for her to-night with the love that willnever die. For that love that will not die in spite of years and pain Ithank Thee. If it may be, give our child the same blessed experience.And teach us to love and serve Thee, world without end, Amen."