The Adventures of a Modest Man

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XI

  DESTINY

  He had taken her in and was apparently climbing rapidly through theseven Heavens of rapture--having arrived as far as the third uncheckedand without mishap. It is not probable that she kept pace with him: shehad other things to think of.

  Dinner was served at small tables; and it required all her will, all herlimited experience, every atom of her intelligence, to keep him fromtalking about things that meant exposure for her. Never apparently hadhe been so flattered by any individual girl's attention; she was gay,witty, audacious, charming, leading and carrying every theme to ascintillating conclusion.

  The other four people at their table he had not before met--she had seento that--and it proved to be a very jolly group, and there was a steady,gay tumult of voices around it, swept by little gusts of laughter; andhe knew perfectly well that he had never had such a good time as he washaving--had never been so clever, so interesting, so quick with his wit,so amusing. He had never seen such a girl as had been allotted tohim--never! Besides, something else had nerved him to do his best. Andhe was doing it.

  "It's a curious thing," he said, with that odd new smile of his, "what aresemblance there is between you and Mrs. Austin."

  "What Mrs. Austin?" began the girl opposite; but got no further, forCecil Gay was appealing to him to act as arbiter in a disputed Bridgequestion; and he did so with nice discrimination and a logicalexplanation which tided matters over that time. But it was a close call;and the color had not all returned to Cecil's cheeks when he finished,with great credit to his own reputation as a Bridge expert.

  But the very deuce seemed to possess him to talk on subjects from whichshe strove to lead him.

  These are the other breaks he made, and as far as he got with eachbreak--stopped neatly every time in time:

  "Curious I haven't seen Jack Aus----"

  "Mrs. Austin _does_ resemble----"

  "This is the first time I have ever been in Bev----"

  And each time she managed to repair the break unnoticed. But it wastelling on her; she couldn't last another round--she knew that. Only thefigurative bell could save her now. And she could almost _hear_ it asher sister rose.

  Saved! But--but--_what_ might some of these men say to him if helingered here for coffee and cigarettes?

  "You won't, will you?" she said desperately, as all rose.

  "Won't--what?" he asked.

  "Stay--_long_."

  He rapidly made his way from the third into the fourth Heaven. Shewatched him.

  "No, indeed," he said under his breath.

  She lingered, fascinated by her own peril. _Could_ she get him away atonce?

  "I--I wonder, Mr. Seabury, what you would think if I--if I suggestedthat you smoke--smoke--on the stairs--now--with me?"

  He hastily scrambled out of the fourth Heaven into the fifth. She sawhim do it.

  "I'd rather smoke there than anywhere in the world----"

  "Quick, then! Saunter over to the door--stroll about a little first--no,don't do even that!--I--I mean--you'd better hurry. _Please!_" She casta rapid look about her; she could not linger another moment. Then,concentrating all the sweetness and audacity in her, and turning to him,she gave him one last look. It was sufficient to send him in one wild,flying leap from the fifth Heaven plump into the sixth. The sixth Heavenwas on the stairs; and his legs carried him thither at a slow andindifferent saunter, though it required every scrap of his self-controlto prevent his legs from breaking into a triumphant trot. Yet all thewhile that odd smile flickered, went out, and flickered in his eyes.

  She was there, very fluffy, very brilliant, and flustered and adorable,the light from the sconces playing over her bare arms and shoulders andspinning all sorts of aureoles around her bright hair. Hah! She had himalone now. She was safe; she could breathe again. And he might harp onthe Austins all he chose. Let him!

  "No, _I_ can't have cigarettes," she explained, "because it isn't goodfor my voice. I'm supposed to possess a voice, you know."

  "It's about the sweetest voice I ever heard," he said so sincerely thatthe bright tint in her cheeks deepened.

  "That is nicer than a compliment," she said, looking at him with alittle laugh of pleasure. He nodded, watching the smoke rings driftingthrough the hall.

  "Do you know something?" he said.

  "Not very much. What?"

  "If I were a great matrimonial prize----"

  "You are, aren't you?"

  "_If_ I was," he continued, ignoring her, "like a king or a grandduke----"

  "Exactly."

  "I'd invite a grand competition for my hand and heart----"

  "We'd all go, Mr. Seabury----"

  "----And then I'd stroll about among them all----"

  "Certainly--among the competing millions."

  "Among the millions--blindfolded----"

  "Blinfo----"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "----Blindfolded!" he repeated with emphasis. "I would choose a_voice_!--before everything else in the world."

  "Oh," she said, rather faintly.

  "A voice," he mused, looking hard at the end of his cigarette which hadgone out: and the odd smile began to flicker in his eyes again.

  Mischief prompting, she began: "I wonder what chance I should have inyour competition? First prize I couldn't aspire to, but--there would bea sort of booby prize--wouldn't there, Mr. Seabury?"

  "There would be only one prize----"

  "Oh!"

  "And that would be the booby prize; the prize booby." And he smiled hisodd smile and laid his hand rather gracefully over his heart. "You havewon him, Miss Gay."

  She looked at him prepared to laugh, but, curiously enough, there wasless of the booby about him as she saw him there than she hadexpected--a tall, clean-cut, attractive young fellow, with a well-shapedhead and nice ears--a man, not a boy, after all--pleasant, amiablyself-possessed, and of her own sort, as far as breeding showed.

  Gone was the indescribably indefinite suggestion of _too_ good looks, oflatent self-sufficiency. He no longer struck her as being pleased withhimself, of being a shade--just a shade--too sure of himself. A change,certainly; and to his advantage. Kindness, sympathy, recognition makewonderful changes in some people.

  "I'll tell you what I'd do if I were queen, and"--she glanced at him--"amatrimonial prize.... Shall I?"

  "Why be both?" he asked.

  "That rings hollow, Mr. Seabury, after your tribute to my voice!...Suppose I were queen. _I'd_ hold a caucus, too. Please say you'd come."

  "Oh, I am already there!"

  "_That_ won't help you; it isn't first come, first served at _my_caucus!... So, suppose millions of suitors were all sitting aroundtwisting their fingers in abashed hopeful silence."

  "Exactly."

  "_What_ do you think I'd do, Mr. Seabury?"

  "Run. _I_ should."

  "No; I should make them a speech--a long one--oh, dreadfully long andwearisome. I should talk and talk and talk, and repeat myself, and pileplatitude on platitude, and maunder on and on and on. And aboutluncheon-time I should have a delicious repast served me, and I'dcontinue my speech as I ate. And after that I'd ramble on and on untildinner-time. And I should dine magnificently up there on the dais, and,between courses, I'd continue my speech----"

  "You'd choose the last man to go to sleep," he said simply.

  "_How_ did you guess it!" she exclaimed, vexed. "I--it's too bad for youto know _everything_, Mr. Seabury."

  "I thought you were convinced that I didn't know _anything_?" he said,looking up at her. His voice was quiet--too quiet; his face grave,unsmiling, firm.

  "I? Mr. Seabury, I don't understand you."

  He folded his hands and rested his chin on the knuckles. "But Iunderstand you, Miss Gay. Tell me"--the odd smile flickered and wentout--"_Tell me, in whose house am I?_"

  Sheer shame paralyzed her; wave on wave of it crimsoned her to the hair.She sat there in deathly silence; he coolly lighted another cigarette,dropped o
ne elbow on his knee, propping his chin in his open palm.

  "I'm curious to know--if you don't mind," he added pleasantly.

  "Oh--h!" she breathed, covering her eyes suddenly with both hands. Shepressed the lids for a moment steadily, then her hands fell to her lap,and she faced him, cheeks aflame.

  "I--I have no excuse," she stammered--"nothing to say for myself ...except I did not understand what a--a common--dreadful--insulting thingI was doing----"

  He waited; then: "I am not angry, Miss Gay."

  "N-not angry? You are! You must be! It was too mean--toocontemptible----"

  "Please don't. Besides, I took possession of your sleigh. Bailey did thebusiness for me. I didn't know he had left the Austins, of course."

  She looked up quickly; there was a dimness in her eyes, partly fromearnestness; "I did not know you had made a mistake until you spoke ofthe Austins," she said. "And then something whispered to me not to tellyou--to let you go on--something possessed me to commit this folly----"

  "Oh, no; _I_ committed it. Besides, we were more than half-way here,were we not?"

  "Ye-yes."

  "And there's only one more train for Beverly, and I couldn't possiblyhave made that, even if we had turned back!"

  "Y-yes. Mr. Seabury, _are_ you trying to defend me?"

  "You need no defense. You were involved through no fault of your own ina rather ridiculous situation. And you simply, and like a philosopher,extracted what amusement there was in it."

  "Mr. Seabury! You shall not be so--so generous. I have cut a wretchedlyundignified figure----"

  "You couldn't!"

  "I could--I have--I'm doing it!"

  "You are doing something else, Miss Gay."

  "W-what?"

  "Making it very, very hard for me to go."

  "But you can't go! You mustn't! Do you think I'd let you go--_now_? Notif the Austins lived next door! I mean it, Mr. Seabury. I--I simply mustmake amends--all I can----"

  "Amends? You have."

  "I? How?"

  "By being here with me."

  "Th-that is--is very sweet of you, Mr. Seabury, but I--but they--butyou--Oh! I don't know what I'm trying to say, except that I likeyou--_they_ will like you--and everybody knows Lily Seabury. Please,please forgive----"

  "I'm going to telephone to Beverly.... Will you wait--_here_?"

  "Ye-yes. Wh-what are you going to telephone? You can't go, you know.Please don't try--will you?"

  "No," he said, looking down at her.

  Things were happening swiftly--everything was happening in aninstant--life, youth, time, all were whirling and spinning around her inbewildering rapidity; and her pulses, too, leaping responsive, drummedcadence to her throbbing brain.

  She saw him mount the stairs and disappear--no doubt to his room, forthere was a telephone there. Then, before she realized the lapse oftime, he was back again, seating himself quietly beside her on the broadstair.

  "Shall I tell you what I am going to do?" he said after a silencethrough which the confused sense of rushing unreality had held her mute.

  "Wh-what are you going to do?"

  "Walk to Beverly."

  "Mr. Seabury! You promised----"

  "Did I?"

  "You did! It is snowing terribly.... It is miles and miles and the snowis already too deep. Besides, do you think I--we would let you _walk_!But you shall not go--and there are horses enough, too! No, no, no! I--Iwish you would let me try to make up _something_ to you--if I--all thatI can possibly make up."

  "At the end of the hall above there's a window," he said slowly. "Proveto me that the snow is too deep."

  "Prove it?" She sprang up, gathering her silken skirts and was on thelanding above before he could rise.

  He found her, smiling, triumphant, beside the big casement at the end ofthe hallway.

  "Now are you convinced?" she said. "Just look at the snowdrifts. Are yousatisfied?"

  "No," he said, quietly--too quietly by far. She looked up at him, aquick protest framed on her red lips. Something--perhaps the odd glimmerin his eyes--committed her to silence. From silence the stillness grewinto tension; and again the rushing sense of unreality surged over themboth, leaving their senses swimming.

  "There is only one thing in the world I care for now," he said.

  "Ye-yes."

  "And that is to have you think well of me."

  "I--I do."

  "--And each day--think better of me."

  "I--will--probably----"

  "And in the end----"

  She neither stirred nor turned her eyes.

  "--In the end--_Listen_ to me."

  "I am wi-willing to."

  "'Only one person in the world can ever matter tome--now.'"]

  "Because it will be then as it is now; as it was when even I didn't knowit--as it must be always, for me. Only one person in the world can evermatter to me--now.... There's no escape from it for me."

  "Do--do you wish to--escape?"

  "Cecil!" he said under his breath.

  * * * * *

  "They're dancing, below," she said leaning over the gallery, one softwhite hand on the polished rail, the other abandoned tohim--carelessly--as though she were quite unconscious where it lay.

  "They are dancing," she repeated, turning toward him--which brought themface to face, both her hands resting listlessly in his.

  A silence, then:

  "Do you know," she said, "that this is a very serious matter?"

  "I know."

  "And that it's probably one of those dreadful, terrible and suddenstrokes of Fate?"

  "I know."

  "And that--that it serves me right?"

  He was smiling; and she smiled back at him, the starry beauty of hereyes dimming a trifle.

  "You say that you have chosen a 'Voice,'" she said; "and--do you thinkthat you would be the last man to go to sleep?"

  "The very last."

  "Then--I suppose I must make my choice.... I will ... some day.... And,are you going to dance with me?"

  He raised her hands, joining them together between his; and she watchedhim gravely, a tremor touching her lips. In silence their hands fellapart; he stepped nearer; she lifted her head a little--a verylittle--closing her lids; he bent and kissed her lips, very lightly.

  That was all; they opened their eyes upon one another, somewhat dazed. Abell, very far off, was sounding faintly through the fallingsnow--faintly, persistently, the first bell for Christmas morning.

  Then she took the edges of her silken gown between thumb and forefinger,and slowly, very slowly, sank low with flushed cheeks, sweeping him anold-time curtsey.

  "I--I wish you a Merry Christmas," she said.... "And thank you for_your_ wish.... And you may take me down, now"--rising to her slim andlovely height--"and I think we had better dance as hard as we can andtry to forget what our families are likely to think of what we'vedone.... Don't you?"

  "Yes," he said seriously, "I do."

  * * * * *

  "And _that's_ what comes of running after trains, and talking to fatconductors, and wearing chinchilla furs, and flouting the Mystic Three!"added Williams throwing away his cigar.