Blue-Bird Weather

by Robert W. Chambers

now?" he said.

  She extended her hands to him, and he swung her to the beach. For amoment he retained her hands; she looked at him, smiling, thrilling withall that he had said, meeting his eyes frankly and tenderly.

  "You are like some glorious magic prince to me," she said, "appearingamong us here to win our hearts with a word."

  "Have I won yours with what I have said?"

  "Mine? Oh, don't you know it? Do you think--even if it doesn't cometrue--that I can ever forget what you have wished to do for Jim?"

  Still holding her hands, he lifted them, joined her fingers, and laidhis lips to them. She bent her head and caught her breath in surprise.

  "I am going North to-morrow," he said.

  For a moment she did not comprehend his words. Then, a trifle dazed, shelooked up at him. "To-morrow?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you coming back?"

  "Perhaps--next year."

  "_Next--year!_"

  "Do you--find it--a long time?"

  Her straight brows bent inward a little, the startled gray eyes becameclear and steady. "Of course I knew that you must go--some time. But Ihad no idea that it would be so soon. Somehow, I have thought of you asbeing--here----"

  "Do you care?"

  Her honest eyes widened. "Care?" she repeated.

  "Yes. How greatly do you care?"

  The straight brows contracted still more as she stood consideringhim--so close that the fresh and subtle youth of her freshened the nightagain with its faint perfume.

  Again he touched her hands with his lips, she watching him palely, outof clear, gray eyes; then, as they turned away together, he encircledher slender waist with his arm.

  That she was conscious of it, and not disturbed by it, was part of hernew mystery to him. Only once, as they walked, when his circling clasptightened, did she rest her own hand over his where it held her bodyimprisoned. But she said nothing; nor had he spoken when the belt ofpines loomed against the stars once more.

  Then, though neither had spoken, they stopped. He turned to face her,drew her into his arms, and the beating of his heart almost suffocatedhim as he looked into her eyes, clear, unshrinking eyes of gray, with achild's question in their starry depths.

  And he answered the question as in a dream: "I love you. I want you formy wife. I want you to love me. You are the first woman I have caredfor. All that you are I want--no more than you are. You, as you are now,are all that I care for in the world. Life is young for us both, yet.Let us grow up together--if you can love me. Can you?"

  "I don't know."

  "Can you not care for me a little, Molly?"

  "I do. I know--nothing about--love--real love."

  "Can you not imagine it, dear?"

  "I--it is what I _have_ imagined--a man--like you--coming this way intomy loneliness. I recognize it. I have dreamed that it was like this.What is it that I should do--if this is really to come true?"

  "Love me."

  "I would--if I knew how. I don't know how," she said wistfully. "Myheart is so full--already--of your goodness--I--and then this dream Ihave dreamed--that a man like you should come here and say this tome----"

  "Is it in you to love me?"

  "I'll try--if you'll tell me what to do--how to show it--tounderstand----"

  He drew her closer, unresisting, and looked deep into her young eyes,and kissed them, and then her lips, till they grew warmer and her breathcame fragrant and uneven.

  "Can you love me?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Y-yes."

  For a moment's exquisite silence she rested her flushed face against hisshoulder, then lifted it, averted, and stepped aside, out of the circleof his arms. Head lowered, she stood there, motionless in the starlight,arms hanging straight; then, as he came to her, she lifted her proudlittle head and laid both her hands in his.

  "Of those things," she said, "that a woman should be to the man sheloves, and say to that man, I am ignorant. Even how to speak toyou--now--I do not know. It is all a dream to me--except that, in myheart, I know that I do love you. But I think that was so from thebeginning, and after you have gone away I should have realized it someday."

  "You darling!" he whispered. Again she surrendered to him, exquisite inher ignorance, passive at first, then tremulously responsive. And atlast her head drooped and fell on his shoulder, and he held her for alittle longer, then released her.

  Trembling, she crept up the stairway to her room, treading lightlyalong the dark entry, dazed, fatigued, with the wonder of it all. Then,as she laid her hand on the knob of her bedroom door, the door of herfather's room opened abruptly.

  "Molly?"

  "Yes, dear," she answered vaguely.

  He stood staring at her on the threshold, fully dressed, and she lookedback at him, her eyes slightly confused by the light.

  "Where have you been?" he said.

  "With Mr. Marche."

  "Where?"

  "To the dory--and back."

  "What did he say to you, child?"

  She came silently across the threshold and put her arms around his neck;and the man lost every atom of his color.

  "What did he say?" he repeated harshly.

  "That he loves me."

  "What!"

  "It is true, father."

  The man held her at arm's length roughly. "Good God!" he groaned, "howlong has this been going on?"

  "Only to-night. What do you mean, father?"

  "'He tells you that he--he is in love with you?'"]

  "He tells you that he--he is in love with you? With _you_?" repeatedHerold unsteadily.

  "Yes. It is true, too."

  "You mean he asked you to marry him!"

  "Yes. And I said I would."

  "_You_ love _him_!"

  The man's pallor frightened her silent. Then he dropped her arms, whichhe had been clutching, and stood staring at nothing, gnawing at hiscolorless lips.

  The girl watched him with dawning terror and finally ventured to speak."Dear, what is the matter? Are you displeased with me? Do you think thathe is not a man I should care for? You don't know him, dear. You haveonly to see him, to speak with him, hear his voice, look into hiseyes----"

  "Good God!" groaned Herold, closing his sunken eyes. Then, almostfeeling his way out and along the dark passageway, he descended thestairs, heavily.

  Marche, cleaning his gun in the sitting-room, looked up in surprise,then rose, laying aside stock, fore-end, and barrel, as Herold came intothe room. The next instant, stepping nearer, he stared into Herold'sface in silence. And so they met and confronted each other after manyyears.

  "Are _you_ Herold?" said the young man, in a low voice.

  "That is my name--now."

  "_You_ have been in my employment--for five years?"

  "Yes. Judge Gilkins gave me the chance. I could not suppose that theclub would ever become your property."

  The younger man's face hardened. "But when it did become my property,why had you the indecency to stay?"

  "Where else could I go?"

  "You had the whole world to--operate in."

  Herold's thin face flushed. "It was fitter that I should work for you,"he said. "I have served you faithfully for five years."

  "And unfaithfully for ten! Wasn't it enough that Vyse and I let you gowithout prosecuting you? Wasn't it enough that we pocketed our loss foryour wife's sake?"

  He checked himself in a flash of memory, turned, and looked at thepicture on the wall. Now he knew, now he understood why his formerassociate's handwriting had seemed familiar after all these years.

  And suddenly he remembered that this man was Jim's father--and thefather of the young girl he was in love with; and the shock drove everydrop of blood out of his heart and cheeks. Ghastly, staring, he stoodconfronting Herold; and the latter, leaning heavily, shoulder againstthe wall, stared back at him.

  "I could have gone on working for you," he said, "trying to save enoughto make restitution--some day. I _
have_ already saved part of it. Lookat me--look at my children--at the way we live, and you'll understandhow I have saved. But I _have_ saved part of what I took. I'll give youthat much before you go--before I go, too."

  His breath came heavily, unevenly; he cleared his eyes with awork-stained hand, fashioned for pens and ledgers.

  "You were abroad when I--did what I did. Vyse was merciless. I told himI could put it back if he'd give me the chance. But a thief was a thiefto him--particularly when his own pocket was involved. He meant to sendme to prison. The judge held him--he was his father-in-law--and he wasan old man