CHAPTER XXIII
WHY NOT?
"There's just one more thing to be settled," observed Dr. JeffersonCraig. "While we are settling things, suppose we attend to that."
He stood upon the hearthrug before the fire in his library, elbow onchimney piece, looking down upon his two guests. It was eight o'clock ofthe evening following that upon which Mr. David Warne and Georgiana hadarrived at the big New York house in the old-time, downtown square.Although they had been under the hospitable roof for more thantwenty-four hours it was the first occasion on which the three had beentogether for more than a few minutes at a time.
On the previous evening in an upstairs room had been enacted a littlescene which would live forever in the memories of them all; but DoctorCraig, perceiving with trained eyes the signs of growing fatigue in hisfrail friend after the unwonted strain of the day and its necessarilyemotional climax, had gently but firmly insisted on withdrawing at anearly hour. Georgiana had remained with her father, herself content tohave the strange and wonderful day end in the old, simple, and naturalway in which her days had ended for so long. She had felt, as sheperformed her customary daughterly offices for the beloved invalid, thatshe had quite enough to take with her to her own pillow to insure itsbeing the happiest upon which she had ever laid her head.
They had seen little of Doctor Craig on the following day; but he hadtaken dinner with them that night, and as he had brought them back tothe library fire he had given stringent directions to the boy Thomasthat he be disturbed only for the most important summons. And hardly hadthe trio taken their places in the pleasant room before Jefferson Craigmade his statement that there was something still unsettled in theiraffairs.
As he spoke he was looking down at Georgiana. It would have been strangeif he could have kept his eyes away from her to-night. Like a flower insunshine had she bloomed under the warm influence of the joy which hadcome to her when she least expected it. She was again wearing the littlegray silk frock, but now its nunlike simplicity was gone--and happilygone--for a bunch of glowing pink Killarney roses at her belt, placedthere by Doctor Craig's hands, lighted the plain costume into one of acharm which could no longer be called demure.
"Something still to settle?" It was Father Davy who replied, forGeorgiana had no answer for that suggestion. One glance at DoctorCraig's face, as he said the words, had told her what was coming.
"The most important thing of all. Everything else is in order. You, dearsir, have agreed to come and live with us. We are convinced that it'snot a sacrifice, except for the leaving of certain old friends. You havea zest still for seeing and hearing the things you have been denied;it's to be our keen pleasure to make your days go by on wings. You'regoing to have plenty of room here for the bookcases and the books, allthe furnishings you care to keep--in short, you're to live the old lifewith a fine new one as well. Altogether, everything is in train for thegreat change, except"--he crossed the hearthrug at a stride, and laid ason's hand upon the thin shoulder of Father Davy--"except the date ofit," he finished, smiling down into the uplifted face.
"But that," replied Georgiana's father without hesitation, "is not forme to settle. It is for you two."
Craig looked across at Georgiana and for a minute studied her down-bentprofile as she sat gazing into the flames; then came round to her,plucking a pillow from a big leather couch by the way, to drop it at herfeet and throw himself down upon it. So placed he could look straightinto her face. "You'll have to take an interest in the ceiling now ifyou succeed in avoiding me," he said, with a low laugh.
"I don't want to avoid you," answered Georgiana, and let her eyes meethis fairly for an instant. She could not yet do this in a quite casualway.
He crossed his arms upon her knee, sitting in a boyish attitude andlooking not unlike a big boy for the moment, for all the lines of carewere gone from his face in the soft firelight, and happiness had laidits rosy mantle over his shoulders as over hers. He began to speakrather quickly:
"For the life of me, I can't think of a reason why you should go backand spend a winter in the same old grind, waiting till springand--making me wait till spring. Why should anybody wait till spring?I've let you talk about all the work you were going to do this winter athome, but that was just because I didn't want to make you feel as if youwere caught in a trap. I had an idea that for a few hours, anyhow, itmight seem enough of a change to come down here and promise to marry aperfect stranger of a surgeon instead of the 'literary light' you knew.I thought we'd let it go at that for those few hours. But now--itdoesn't seem to me possible to go back to bachelorhood again, even withsuch a prospect before me in the spring. Not after having tasted--this.Georgiana, why must I?"
Her face was the colour of her roses. There was no getting away from thechallenge of those eyes that watched her so steadily--not even byfollowing his suggestion and gazing persistently ceilingward. Craigglanced at Father Davy, to find that his soft blue eyes showed no signof shock, and that his face was perfectly placid as he looked andlistened.
The younger man went on, coming straight to the point: "Georgiana, marryme before you go back! You've promised to stay a week. Let's have awedding here, next Wednesday. Then we'll leave Father Davy herecomfortably with Mrs. MacFayden, and run up to see about getting thingspacked and shipped. I'll take that much of a vacation now. Then, inApril, we'll go abroad for a real honeymoon and take Father Davy withus. I'd propose that now, but the seas are stormy in December andJanuary and we mustn't risk it for him. But, let's not wait! Why shouldwe? Now, honestly, why should we?"
The girl turned her face, with a strange little look of appeal, towardher father, to meet such a look of entire comprehension as stirred herto the depths. Suddenly, obeying an impulse she did not understand, shedrew herself gently away from Craig, rose and went to the figure in thebig chair opposite. She sat down on the arm and, bending, dropped herface upon the fatherly shoulder, hiding it there. Craig sat perfectlystill, watching the pair, as Father Davy put up a thin, white hand andpatted the dark head. Then the two men smiled at each other.
After a while Craig got up and quietly left the room.
By and by Father Davy whispered: "What is it, dear? You're not ready?You shall not be hurried. Or is it----"
She spoke into his ear. "I want to go back home--and earn--andearn--enough to----"
"Can you earn it, daughter? Can you ever get enough ahead to providewhat you would like? And meanwhile--he wants you very much, my dear. Ithink I know more of his heart than you do, in way. Last winter we hadcertain talks that showed me a little of that. Would it be such a blowto pride to do as he asks? Unless--in other ways you are not ready. Ifyour love for him isn't quite mature enough yet----"
"Oh, it isn't that; it's mature enough. It--it hasn't grown, in spite ofme, all this year like--a--tumbleweed"--her voice was a littlebreathless--"not to have got its growth----"
"Its first growth," amended her father, with a meaning smile.
She nodded. "But--if you could know how I want--time to make the mostof--what mother left me. I could do so much if I just had time. If Iused it now I should have to use it up so fast! There'll be fiftydollars left when we get back. I could almost make that do, if--no, ofcourse I couldn't. But I could earn more. O Father Davy, is it wrong ofme to be so proud?"
"Not wrong, my girl, but very natural, I suppose. Yet to me--well, dear,I hardly know how to say what I feel. I confess I should like to see youmarried to this man. Life is--so short----"
They sat together in silence for a time; then Georgiana slipped backinto the seat where she had been.
Presently Father Davy said that it had been a full day, and that hethought he should be fitter for the morrow if he should go to bed.Georgiana went up with him, saw him comfortably resting, listened whilehe whispered something in her ear as she bent above him, kissed him withher heart on her lips, and finally stole like a mouse down the stairsagain.
When she came into the library once more it was to find herself in armswhich held her
close. "Do you think I don't understand, my dearest?"said the low voice which had such power to move her. "Do you think Idon't respect and love you for your perfectly natural feeling about itall? But, Georgiana, you bring me a dowry bigger than any I could askfor--the inheritance from such a father as he is--and from the motherwho gave you all he left her to give. What are towels and tablecloths--Idon't know what it is brides bring!--beside such things as these? Won'tyou give me the real thing, and let me furnish the ones that don'tcount? Dear, if you could know the pleasure there is for me in the verythought of buying you--a hat!"
She could but smile, his tone put so much awe into the word. Suddenlyshe grew whimsical; it was so like Georgiana to do that when she wasdeeply stirred!
"What do you suppose that hat was made of, I wore here?" she asked him."I'll tell you. I found the shape for twenty-five cents at the villagemilliner's. I cut it down and sewed it up again into another shape. ThenI hunted through the old 'Semi-Annuals'; you don't know what those are,do you? I found a piece of velvet that had been a flounce. I steamed itand covered the shape. Then I had to have some trimming. It came from anold evening cloak of my Cousin Jeannette's--a bit of gilt, a silk rose,some ribbon from--I can't tell you what it came from, but it had to bedyed to match the velvet. I couldn't quite get the shade. But the hat,when it was done, wasn't so bad."
"Where is it now?"
"Upstairs in my room."
"Would you mind getting it?"
She laughed, hesitated, finally ran upstairs and down again, the hat inhand. Pausing before an old gilt mirror in the hall she put it on, thencame to him, lifting her head with a proud and merry look which badehim beware how he might venture to criticise the work of her hands.
Adjusting his eyeglasses with care, he viewed it judicially. "It looksvery nice to me," he said. "Suppose you keep it on and put on a coat andlet me take you out in the car for a few minutes. There's a certainwindow uptown I should like to look at, with you."
"I have no coat," she said steadily, and now the colour ebbed a littlefrom her warm cheek, "except the one that belongs with the suit I wore.It's short; it wouldn't do to wear with a dress like this."
"I see." Suddenly he came close again, gently lifted the hat from thedark masses of her hair, laid it carefully on a table near by, and drewher with him to a broad, high-backed couch at one side of the fire.
"I can see," he said, very quietly, "that you and I have much to do ingetting to know each other. Let's lose no time in beginning. Listen,while I try to tell you what marriage means to me--and to find out whatit means to you."
It was a long talk, and, by the kindness of the fates which rule overthe irregular schedule of the men of Craig's profession, anuninterrupted one. Long before it was over Georgiana learned many newthings concerning the man who was to be her husband, not the least ofwhich was his power of making others see as he saw, feel as he felt, andbelieve, from first to last, in his absolute integrity of motive. Andwhen he told her what he thought he could do for her father if he shouldhave him under his eye during the coming winter, the period which wasalways so long and trying for the sensitive frame of the invalid, whoseresisting powers were at their lowest when the winter winds wereblowing, she gave way and the question was settled.
But she did not give way in everything after all, nor did he ask her todo so. When he suggested details of preparation, and she shook her head,he smiled and told her it should all be as she wished. And when he said,very gently, that he hoped she would let him provide her with the meansto buy whatever she might need, because everything that he had was hersalready, he took with a submission that was all grace her refusal to usea penny of his until she should bear his name. If he made certainreservations of his own as to what might happen when he should hold theright, that did not show.
"So that I get you, dearest," he said at the end of the evening, justbefore he let her go, "I am willing to take you in any sort of packageyou may select for yourself. Personally it seems to me that jeweller'scotton is the most appropriate background for you, if you won't have asatin-and-velvet case!"
At which Georgiana laughed, and assured him that she was no real jewel,only one of the secondary stones, and uncut at that. The answer she gotto this sent her off upstairs with thrilling pulses, to lie awake for along time, recalling his voice and look as he said the few suddenlygrave words which had given her a glimpse of his bare heart.