CHAPTER XXVII
"CAKES AND ICES"
Jefferson Craig found plenty of the zest which he had toldGeorgiana--that last evening on shipboard--her eager-eyed look added tohis life, when, the next day, in a compartment reserved for the threetravelers, he watched her as she fairly hung out of the windows. Allthrough Devonshire and on to the northeast. She was drinking in the fairand ordered beauty of the English countryside in April, exclaiming overapple orchards rosy as sea-shells with bloom, over vine-clad cottagesand hedge-bordered lanes, masses of wall flowers at each trim station,and such green fields as she had never seen in her life. Father Davy wasnot far behind her in his quiet enjoyment of the unaccustomed scenes.
A night at Bath, picturesque and interesting, and then before the eldestof the three travelers could be really weary they were in famous Oxford.Professor Pembroke and his wife, Allison Craig, met them at the station,to convoy them to the comfortable quarters in the dignified stone housenear Magdalen College, which Craig had more than once described toGeorgiana.
Here the young American had her first taste of a manner of life whichenchanted her. From the moment that she set eyes on Jefferson Craig'ssister, the original of the photograph she had so often studied with aconstriction of the heart, not knowing whose it was, she was drawn toher as she had never been drawn to any other woman.
Sitting with her in the pleasant, chintz-hung living-room, walking withher in the garden which was like no garden she had ever imagined, shewas conscious of a stronger sense of wonder than ever that a man whosefamily was represented by a sister like this could ever have chosen thecrude young person she still considered herself. From Mrs. Pembroke,however, she received only heart-warming assurance of her welcome andher fitness.
"My dear," Allison said, as the two stood at an ivy-framed window onemorning, looking out at Mr. Warne and his son-in-law as they slowlypaced up and down beneath a row of copper beeches between house andgarden, "I never saw my brother so happy in his life. Jeff always washard to please as a boy. I used to think it was merely a criticaldisposition, but later I discovered that it was his extreme distaste forall artifice, acting, intrigue--all absence of genuineness. Only thoseboys and men interested him whom he had absolute faith in.
"I don't mean that he himself was a goody-goody--far from it; he was aterrible prank maker, and more than once narrowly missed sufferingserious consequences. But when he really grew up and it came to anacquaintance with women, very few have even attracted him. I began tofear that he was becoming hardened and would never find just what hisfastidious taste could approve--not to mention what his heart mightsoften to. But now--well, I think I am almost as happy as he is, that hehas found you. He seems like a different being to me, and evidently itis you who have wrought the miracle."
"I surely have made no change in him," Georgiana protested. "He has beenjust as he is now from the beginning--except, of course, that I know himbetter. I can't imagine him hardened to anything."
Allison Pembroke looked at her, smiling. She was herself an unusuallybeautiful woman, more mature than Georgiana, but still with a touch ofgirlishness in her personality which made her very appealing to heryoung guest.
"Evidently the softening process began the moment he met you," she said."He frankly admits that himself. I am going to tell you what he wrote tome last winter, after you had begun your work with him. 'I feel like afootsore traveler,' he said, 'who has been walking for many miles alonga hot and crowded highway, with the dust heavy on his shoulders andthick in his throat, who suddenly finds his course turned aside througha deep and quiet wood, with flowers springing on all sides, and a clearstream running beside him, where he may bathe his flushed face and coolhis parched throat.' I have never forgotten the words, because theystruck me as so unlike him. I knew then that something had happened tohim there in the old manse. And when I saw you, dear, I didn't wonderthat he chose just those words."
"I should never have thought," murmured Georgiana, incredulously, "thatI could ever have reminded anybody of a quiet wood--I with my hotrebellion at having to spend my days in the country, which I could neverquite cover up."
"I know. Just the same, Georgiana, after having known so many artificialwomen, posing, as women do pose for a man in Jefferson's place, itrefreshed his very soul to find a girl like you, who dared to be herselffrom head to foot, whether she pleased him or not. And oh, I am sothankful you could care for him, since he needed you so much!"
Such talks brought these two very close together.
It was a happy week which Georgiana spent in the fine, classic old town,walking or driving with Allison, exploring quaint, winding streets,ancient halls, and flowery closes; or meeting interesting people of allranks, from the chancellor of the University himself to the youngundergraduates who offered her in their old and dingy but distinguishedrooms tea and toasted scones, along with their fresh-cheeked admiration.
Not the least of her pleasure was in watching Father Davy's keenenjoyment of everything that came his way, and in noting how many ofthese English people seemed to find him one of them in his appreciationof all they had to offer and in his intimate knowledge of theirtime-honoured history. He apparently grew a little stronger with eachsucceeding day; certainly he grew younger, for happiness is a tonicwhich has special power upon those who carry the burden of years; andFather Davy's years, while not so many, had been heavy of weight uponhis slender shoulders and had bowed them before their time.
After Oxford came London--a fortnight of it, and a very differentexperience. Living at a luxurious hotel with Allison Pembroke, who hadcome up with them, to show her all the ways of which she felt herselfignorant; with Craig coming and going from hospital and lecture room,suggesting each day new wonders; with hours spent daily in the deardelight of exploration in all sorts of out-of-the-way, famous places;Georgiana felt as if it were all too miraculous to be true.
That she, "Georgie Warne," as the village people had called her all herlife, should, for instance, be walking with charming Mrs. Pembroke alongPiccadilly in the May sunshine--real London sunshine and no wateryimitation such as she had heard of--dressed in the most modish of springcostumes, violets in her belt purchased on a street corner from a younggirl with the eyes of a Mrs. Patrick Campbell and the accent ofBattersea Park--well, it simply did not seem real!
Much less did the hours seem real when she went with her husband to taketea on the Terrace at the Houses of Parliament, or with all three of herparty to dine with some friendly Londoner who appeared eager to offerhospitality to the whole party. Best of all, perhaps, were the lateevening walks upon which Craig took her alone, to stroll along theVictoria Embankment, a place of which she never tired, to watch themyriad lights upon the black river, and to talk endlessly of all thepair could see before them of purpose and achievement.
"Do you know what you remind me of these days?" Craig asked one night,when the two had returned to the hotel after one of these long, slowwalks, during which they had been unusually silent.
He threw himself into a deep armchair as he spoke and sat looking up athis wife, who stood at the open balcony window, gazing down at thestreet below, with the interest in everything human which seemed neverto abate.
She turned, smiling. She was particularly lovely to look at to-night,wearing a little pale-gray, silk-and-chiffon frock (lately purchased ata French shop in London), which, in spite of its Parisian lines andgraces, was distinctly reminiscent of a certain other gray-silk frockworn on a never-to-be-forgotten occasion.
"Of a child at her first party?" she asked. "That's what I feel like.Only there's no end to the cakes and ices, the bonbons and surprises.And I never have to worry because before long I must go home!"
"No, not like that; your similes are always too self-deprecatory. Youseem to me more and more like a young queen who has just come to thethrone, but who is shy about picking up her sceptre. She preferslong-stemmed roses, and every now and then she catches up her train andruns down from her dais and out-of-doors, until some
shocked courtierrushes after her and brings her back!"
"Now you _are_ laughing at me!" Georgiana wheeled to confront herhusband, who, stretched lazily in his chair, after a long day at theside of a great biologist in his laboratory, was relaxing muscles andnerves at the same time.
He put out one arm toward her, and she came slowly to his side. "Not abit. It just delights me to see you your natural self in spite of allthat London can do to you. Allison tells me that it is the mostinteresting thing in the world to watch you decide whether you will buya new hat or a new book. She declares that milliners admire you and seemanxious to please you, but that when you get into a bookshop you haveevery old bookseller climbing about his ladders to bring down hischoicest treasures for you."
Georgiana laughed. "I can't get used to buying hats at all--not tomention silk stockings--and as for buying hats and books and silkstockings on the same day, it's simply past belief that I can do it. Whydo you fill my purse so full? I'm afraid I'm losing all the benefit ofmy long training in frugality."
"I hope so. I can never forget last winter watching you dissemble yourgood healthy appetite and pretend you didn't want beefsteak, while youfed your father and me on a juicy tenderloin. Brave little housekeeperon nothing a month!"
She looked at him quickly. "I never dreamed you noticed. And besides, Ireally didn't want----"
"Take care! The table was the only place where I ever caught you playinga part. I forgave you, only--how I did long to divide with you! Now allthe rest of my life I can divide, equal shares, with you--my Georgiana!"
The weeks flew by, bringing never-ending interest. After London cameEdinburgh, city of stately beauty, where among Scottish friends of theCraigs Georgiana learned whence her husband's family had sprung, andtheir noble origin and history.
Then the vacation was at an end "for this time," as Craig said, and thelittle party turned their faces homeward.
A letter from James Stuart, in the same mail with one twice its lengthfrom Jeannette Crofton, caused them to hasten their date of sailing by aweek in order to be in time for a great event. Stuart wrotecharacteristically:
You simply have to come home, George, and help me through it. Of course I knew from the first I'd have to face a big city wedding, but the actual fact rather daunts me. Of course it's all right, for we know Jean's mother would never be satisfied to let me have her at all except by way of the white-glove route. The white gloves don't scare me so much as the orchids, and I suppose my new tailor will turn me out a creditable figure. But if I can't have you and Dr. Jeff Craig there I don't believe I can stand the strain.
The worst of it is that after all that show I can only take her back to the old farm. Not that she minds; in fact, she seems to be crazy about that farm. But it certainly does sound to me like a play called "From Orchids to Dandelions."
So, for heaven's sake, come home in time! The date's had to be shoved up on account of some great-aunt who intends to leave Jean her fortune some day if she isn't offended now, and the nice old lady wants to start for the Far East the day after the date she sets for our affair.
"Of course we must go," Craig agreed. "We'll stand by the dear fellowtill the last orchid has withered--if they use orchids at June weddings,which I doubt. As for the dandelions, I think there's small fear thatJean won't like them. I fully believe in her sincerity, and I'm preparedto see her astonish her family by her devotion to country life. Stuart'sable to keep her in real luxury, from the rural point of view, as Iunderstand it, and she will bring him a lot of fresh enthusiasm thatwill do him a world of good."
"I'm trying to imagine Jimps's June-tanned face above a white shirtfront," mused Georgiana. "He'll be a perfect Indian shade by that time."
"Not more so than any young tennis or golf enthusiast, will he?"
"Oh, much more. Jimps is out in the sun from dawn till sundown; his veryeyebrows get a russet shade. But of course that doesn't matter, and hissplendid shoulders certainly do fill out a dress coat to greatadvantage. You don't mind being considered one of his best friends by ayoung farmer, do you? That's the way he feels about you."
"I consider it a great honour. I never was better pleased than whenStuart first made friends with me, even after I discovered that he was,as I thought, my successful rival. It was impossible to help liking him.In fact, I've often wondered why--he didn't continue to be my rival."
"Oh, no, Jefferson Craig, you couldn't possibly wonder that!"contradicted Georgiana, in such a tone of finality that her husbandlaughed and told her that flattery could go no farther.
The voyage home was nearly a duplicate of the one outward bound, exceptthat the two workers put in much extra time on the book and pushed itwell toward completion.
Father Davy acquired the strength to take short walks on an even deckand boasted hugely of his acquisition, a twinkle in his eye and a tingeof real colour in his cheek.
"Imagine my coming home from abroad with trunks full of clothes andbooks and pictures," murmured Georgiana, as the three stood togetherwatching the big ship make her port. "I feel like a regularmillionairess."
"A regular one would smile at your modest showing," was Craig's comment."I'm quite certain no man ever found it more difficult to persuade hiswife to buy frocks, even when he went with her and expressed his anxietyto see her in particular colours."
"Confess," demanded Georgiana with spirit, "that you would bedisappointed if I suddenly became a devotee of clothes and wanted allthose gorgeous things we saw, and which that black-eyed Frenchwomantried so hard to make me take."
"Those wouldn't have suited you, of course. I don't want to make anactress of you, or even a society woman who gets her gowns described inthe Sunday papers. But when you refuse simple white frocks with blueribbons----"
"Costing three figures! And I could copy every one of those myself for afraction of the money."
"What would you do with the money saved?"
"Buy books."
Georgiana and Father Davy exchanged a smiling, tender glance which spokeof past years of longings now satisfied.
Craig laughed heartily. "Incorrigible little book-lover! Well, it's aworthy taste. I happened to overhear a comment on your reading the otherday which amused me very much. When you left your steamer chair to walkwith me you left also a copy of _Traditions of the Covenanters_. Alittle later, coming up behind that young Edmeston, who spends most ofhis time lounging in the chair next yours, I heard him say to a girl:'She doesn't look such an awful highbrow, but believe _me_, the thingsshe reads on shipboard when the rest of us are yawning over summernovels would help weight the anchor if we got on the rocks!' Then withawe he mentioned the name of that book, and the girl said:' Howfrightful! But I'm crazy about her just the same. I do think she wearsthe darlingest clothes.' So there you are! The men impressed, the girlsenvious, and your husband--worshipful. What more could a young wifeask?"
"Absolutely nothing," acknowledged Georgiana with much amusement.