IV
THE PROMISE IN THE ROSE GARDEN
A silence fell between them, broken only by the whirring of Nora's wheeland the robin's chatter before Katrine inquired:
"Are you still bent on that expedition to that world's end?"
"I could," he returned, "be persuaded from it, or at least to postponeit. If by any chance I were invited to luncheon in a certain garden--anold-fashioned garden, with box and peonies, and," he raised his head tolook down over the flowers--"and some queer purple things like bellswhose name I have forgotten, under a trellis of roses, with--"
"Me," she interrupted, with a laugh. "We'll make a party, as thechildren say. Nora will give us broiled chicken and yellow wine in thelong-necked glasses, and cake with nuts in it, and you," she stopped fora second, the dimple in the left cheek showing itself, "will give all ofyour nuts to me; for it is well to sacrifice for another," she said,with a laugh, "and exceeding well," she added, "that I should have thenuts."
Having ordered the luncheon, they went together down the gravelledpathway to the grape arbor, which was grown over with sweet,old-fashioned climbing roses, through which the sunlight filtered inwavy lights on the quaint low rocker, the long rattan couch, the pillowsof gay hue, the table covered with books and sewing. Frank paused at thearchway and looked in.
"I have found it," he said.
"What?" she asked.
"The world's end," he answered.
"You must," she explained, "_really_ to appreciate this place, lie onthe couch so that you may see the wistaria on the gray wall. You shouldthen light a cigarette and have the table brought near, that you mayring for what you want." She moved the table toward him as she spoke."And I will take this chair beside you. If you want me to talk to you Ishall do so; if you want me to sing, I will do that; or if the kingdesires silence"--she made an obeisance before him as of greathumility--"I can even accomplish that, though it is difficult for awoman," she added, with a laugh.
It was dangerous repayment of a kindness: this entire forgetfulness ofherself in her gratitude to him; this essence of the wine of flattery,of Irish flattery, which has ever a peculiar bouquet of its own.
"You have a good friend in McDermott," Francis said, abruptly.
"Yes; he has been kind to us, most kind," Katrine answered.
"For old sake's sake?" Frank suggested.
"Scarcely for that. We never knew him until father met him quite byaccident in New York two years ago."
"Didn't they fight together in India?" Frank inquired.
"In India!" Katrine repeated. "Father was never in India. Will some onehave been telling you that McDermott and he fought together in India,Mr. Ravenel?" she asked, in astonishment.
Frank sat upright, regarding her with amazement.
"Didn't your father save his life at Ramazan?"
It was Katrine's turn to be bewildered.
"I never heard of Ramazan," she said. "Where is it?"
"And he was not present at your father's marriage in Italy?"
Katrine shook her head; but to Ravenel's astonishment she began to wearan amused smile as he repeated McDermott's tale to her bit by bit.
"I understand," she explained, "my father saved him from a horribleattack of the measles in New York. They thought for weeks that he woulddie."
"But why," Frank demanded, "didn't he say just that?"
"He couldn't!" Katrine stated, as simply and uncritically as a child."You see, he has the soul of an artist, and there's something about aman of thirty dying of measles impossible for the artistic temperamentto contemplate. Ah!" she said, with gentle pleading in her voice for anabsent friend, "he's the greatest liar as well as the most truthfulperson alive; but you've got to be Irish to understand how that thingcan be. He couldn't say my father saved him from the measles. The storyof India sounds better--and no one is hurt. Can't ye understand? Thegratitude for service rendered is the great thing; to remember akindness has been done; and whether he gives as reason for his gratitudeRamazan or the measles, what is the difference? Do you know"--there camean apologetic look and blush to her face as she spoke, "that I myself,when it comes to things of the heart--" she ended the sentence with alaugh and a gesture of self-depreciation. "There was once a little childin Killybegs," she explained, "a girl, who wanted to be a boy, and shecried all of the time because she wasn't. So I told her _she was a boy_,and it comforted her for quite a year. You see, it made her happy."
"Oh," Francis laughed, "you incomprehensible Celts!"
"Incomprehensible, indeed!" she said. "Incomprehensible!"
A singing voice broke the talk, rolling strongly, vibrantly through theleaves, a lawless, insistent voice, and Dermott McDermott, with thereins loosened on his horse's neck, and his ardent eyes looking upwardto heaven's blue, rode by the other side of the privet hedge:
"'War-battered dogs are we, Fighters in every clime, Fillers of trench and grave, Mockers be-mocked by time. War dogs hungry and gray, Gnawing a naked bone, Fighting in every clime Every cause but our own.'"
"Katrine," Frank said, as they listened to the singing die away, "whatis Dermott McDermott doing in the Carolinas? That story of theMainwaring titles is nonsense. He is here on some other business."
"I am not sure," she answered. "I cannot be certain, but I think it hassomething to do with Ravenel. I think it has to do with you."
"With me?" Frank sat erect. "Do you know," he said, after some thought,"absurd as it may seem, Katrine, I think so, too."
* * * * *
The sun was far behind the pines when he rose to leave, flattered,softened, with the remembrance of caressing gray eyes, of a voice fullof strange cadence, and speech with quaint humor and dramatic turns tothe sentences.
"Good-bye," he said, standing by the boxwood arch. "I am your debtor,Miss Dulany, for one perfectly happy day."
"My debtor!" she repeated, looking at him through sudden tears. "I'veknown rich men before now, men richer than you, Mr. Ravenel; and greatmen, though none greater than yourself; and handsome men as well, thoughhere"--and the mutinous humor of her showed in the speech--"I can'ttruthfully say I've ever seen any handsomer than you are this minute,as you stand looking down at me. It's your eyes, or something in yournature, perhaps, that sets you apart from others in your looks. But bethat all as it may, it's neither your riches nor your birth nor yourgood looks that I am thinking about, but your kind heart. I shall neverforget you, never in all my life, for what you've done for me; and ifthe time ever comes when you need a friend, for sometimes a man needsthe help that only a woman can give, will you remember me then, for I'llcome from the ends of the earth to serve you?" And before he was awareof such an intention, in an ecstasy of gratitude, she raised his hand toher lips and kissed it.
Katrine: A Novel Page 5