The Seven Darlings

by Gouverneur Morris

  XXXIV

  When Lee and Renier, locked in each other's arms, stood in the forestprimeval, they were mistaken in imagining themselves to be unobserved.

  A short half-hour before, Mary Darling had received a proposal ofmarriage. But Mr. Sam Langham, usually so worldly-wise, had erred,perhaps, in his choice of time and place. Whatever a huge kitchen,bright with sunlight upon burnished copper, may be, it is not a romanticplace. And, worse than this, Mary herself was not in a romantic mood.Certain supplies due by the morning express had not arrived. Chef was atthe telephone shouting broken French to the butcher in Carrytown; one ofthe kitchen-maids had come down with an aching tooth, and the other hadbeen sent upon an errand from which she should have long since returned.

  "Oh," exclaimed Mary, as Mr. Langham entered, smiling, "everything is insuch a mess! I don't believe there's going to be any lunch to-day forany one. And I think I shall have a nervous breakdown!"

  "I told you you would long ago," said Langham, "if you didn't rest moreand take things easier. What _does_ it matter if things go wrong once ina while? And if there isn't going to be any lunch, I'm glad, for one. Iwas thinking of not eating mine, anyway. And if _I'm_ not hungry, youcan be pretty sure that nobody else is hungry. I tell you it hurts me tosee you work so hard. I admire it and I bow down, but it hurts. You tellChef to do the best he can, and you come for a brisk walk with me. We'llwalk up an appetite, and----"

  "I can't _possibly_," said Mary. "I've got to stand by."

  "Then you go for a walk and I'll stand by. Only trust me. _I'll_ seethat nobody goes hungry."

  She did not appear to have heard his offer, and Mr. Langham spoke again,with a sudden change of tone.

  "I'd like to take you out of this. I'd like to make everything in theworld easy for you, if you would only let me. But you know that. You'veknown it all along. And knowing it, you've never even shown that itinterested you; and so I suppose it's folly for me to mention it. But aman can't give up all his hopes of happiness in this world without evenstating them, can he? I've hoped that you might get to care a littleabout me----"

  Mary interrupted him with considerable impatience.

  "Really," she said, "with Chef shouting at the telephone, and all, Idon't know what you are driving at."

  At that Mr. Langham looked so hurt and so unhappy and woebegone thatMary was touched with remorse.

  "I didn't realize you were in earnest," she said. "I'm sorry I've hurtyour feelings, but it's no use. I'm sorry--awfully sorry; but it's nouse."

  "I'm sorry, too," said Langham; "sorry I spoke; sorrier there was no usein speaking; sorriest of all that I'm no good to any one. But as long asI had to come a cropper, why, I'm glad it was for no one less wonderfulthan you. Will you let things be as they were? I won't bother you aboutmy personal feelings ever again by a look or a word."

  After he had gone Mary stood for a while with knitted brows. Chef hadfinished telephoning. The kitchen was in silence. Suddenly she brokethis silence.

  "Chef," she exclaimed, "I'm no use at all! You'll just have to do thebest you can about lunch by yourself."

  And she left the kitchen with great swiftness, looking like an angel onthe verge of tears.

  Chef's shining red face divided into a white smile, and he began tobustle about and make a noise with pots and pans and carving tools, andto sing as he bustled:

  "_Sur le pont d'Avignon_ _L'on y danse, l'on y danse_, _Sur le pont d'Avignon_ _L'on y danse tout en rond--_ _Les belles dames font comm'ca_, _Et puis encore comm'ca._"

  It is probable that in his gay Parisian youth Chef had known a good dealabout _les belles dames_. He had latterly given much attention to theprogress of Miss Darling's friendship with Mr. Langham, and that thissame progress had received a sharp setback under his very nose concernedhim not a little. Chef possessed altogether too much currency that hadonce belonged to that lavish tipper, Mr. Langham. And Chef did not wishMr. Langham to be driven from the kitchen and The Camp. He wished Mr.Langham to become a permanent Darling asset--like himself and theFrench range. And so, half singing, half speaking, and furiouslybustling, he announced:

  "I'll show her how little difference she makes. Without advice ordictation, practically without supplies of any kind, I shall arrange,_nom de Dieu!_ a luncheon which, for pure deliciousness, will not havebeen surpassed during the entire Christian era. I shall hint to her thatI tolerate her in my kitchen because I have known her since she was alittle girl, but I shall make it clear by words and deeds that herpresence or absence is not of the least importance. Let her then turnfor comfort to the worthy, generous, and rich Mr. Langham, for whom themere poaching of an egg is an exquisite pleasure!"

  And he frowned and began to think formidable and inventive thoughtsabout matters connected with his craft and immediate needs andnecessities.

  Mary Darling had, of late, often imagined herself receiving an offer ofmarriage from Mr. Langham. That is badly expressed. Only the mostinsufferable and self-sufficient of men make offers of marriage. Yourtrue, modest, and chivalrous lover gets down on his real or figurativeknees and begs and beseeches. She had, then, often imagined her hand inthe act of being besought by Mr. Langham. Being a practical young woman,she had pictured this as happening (repeatedly) at sunset, by moonlight,in the depths of romantic forests or on the tops of romantic mountains.And some voice in her (some very practical voice) told her that it nevershould have happened in a kitchen.

  Mr. Langham's "sweet beseeching", instead of "moving her strangely," hadmade her rather cross. And such tenderness as she usually had for himhad fled to cover. But now, as the clean, green forest closed about her,she had a reaction. She came to a dead stop and realized that she hadbeen through an emotional crisis. Her heart was beating as if she hadjust finished a steep, swift climb. And her heart was aching too, achingfor the kind and gentle friend and well-wisher to whom she had been soinexplicably cold and cutting. It was in vain to mourn for that diamondof a heart which she had rejected with so much finality. He had saidthat he would never "bother" her again (_Bother_ her! The idea!), and henever would. He was a man of his word, Sam Langham was. Perhaps, evennow he was causing his things to be packed with a view to leaving TheCamp for ever and a day. But what could she do? Could she go to him (inperson or by writing) and in his presence eat as much as a singlemouthful of humble-pie? No, she could not possibly do that. Then, whatcould she do? Well, with the usual negligible results, she could cry hereyes out over the spilt milk.

  She went swiftly forward, the shadows dappling her as she went, and herheart swelling and swelling with self-pity and general miserableness.Thoughts of Arthur and his happiness flashed through her mind. Thethought that she, Mary Darling, unmarried, would in the course of a fewyears be called an old maid, caused her a panicky feeling. She picturedherself as very old (and very ugly), exhibiting improbable Chinese dogsat dog-shows and scowling at rosy babies. And I must say she almostlaughed.

  The path turned sharply to the right and disclosed to Mary's eyes twoyoung people who stood locked in each other's arms and rocked slightlyfrom side to side--rocked with ineffable delight and tenderness.

  She stood stock-still, in plain view if they had looked her way, untilpresently they unlocked arms, drew a little apart, and had a good longlook at each other, and then turned their backs upon that part of theforest and departed slowly.

  Whither she was going, Mary did not know. But she went very swiftly andhad upon her face the expression of a beautiful female commuter who hasarrived at the station just in time to see her train pull out. But thisexpression changed when she found her path blocked by the diminutivehouse in which Sam Langham lived, and saw Sam Langham, a look of wonderon his face, rise from his big piazza chair and come toward her.

  "Lee and Renier are going to be married," she exclaimed, all out ofbreath, "and I didn't mean to be such a brute! And I wouldn't have hurtyou for anything in the world!"

  Sam Langham only looked at her, for he was afraid to speak.

  "I'm just a
n old goose," said Mary humbly, but very bravely, "and I takeeverything back. And if you meant what you said, Sam, and want to beginall over again, why, don't just stand there and look at me."

  And presently she was ashamed of herself for having been so forward, andso she pursued the feelings of shame to their logical conclusion and hidher face.

  And now, for the first time, she realized how hard she had worked eversince The Camp was changed into an inn to make it a go, and how muchshe needed rest and comforting and a masculine executive to lean on.

  "Who said," murmured the ecstatic Langham, "that nothing good ever cameof liking good things to eat?"

  "Sam," said Mary, "I'm so happy I don't care if lunch is burned to acinder."

  It wasn't. Out of odds and ends of raw materials, and great slugs andgallons of culinary genius, Chef produced a lunch that transcended evenMary's and Langham's belief in him.

  But it was Arthur who insisted that champagne be opened; and perhaps thechampagne made the lunch seem even more delicious than it really was.

  Maud and Eve had already discounted Arthur's engagement and Lee's. Theyhad not, it is true, learned of the latter without feeling that if theydidn't hurry they would miss their train; but they had disguised andfought off that feeling until now they were their gay and naturalselves. It remained for Mr. Langham to shock them suddenly into a newset of emotions.

  "I should be obliged," said he, rising to his feet, with a glass ofchampagne in his hand, "if everybody would drink the health of thehappiest man present." Arthur and Renier looked very self-conscious.But Mr. Langham concluded: "And that man is myself. I have the honor toannounce that, beyond peradventure, the loveliest and sweetest girl inall the world----"

  And at that Mary blushed so and looked so happy and beautiful thateverybody shouted with joy and surprise and laughter, and drankchampagne, and tossed compliments about like shuttlecocks. And Arthurand Renier and Langham had a violent dispute as to which was thehappiest; and decided to settle the dispute with sabres at--twentypaces.

  Her first burst of surprise and excitement and pleasure having passed,Eve Darling experienced a sudden sinking feeling. She felt as if all thepeople she most loved to be with were going away on a delightfulexcursion and that she was being left behind. It was at this moment,while the uproar was still at its height, that she heard the shakenvoice of Mr. Bob Jonstone in her ear.

  "How about us?" he demanded.

  "How about us--what?" she answered.

  Then she felt her hand seized and held in the secret asylum furnished bythe table-cloth, and there stole over her the solaceful feeling ofhaving been asked at the last moment to go upon the delightfulexcursion.

  "Eve?"

  "Eve, darling--is it all right?"

  "All right."

  And then up shot Mr. Jonstone like a projectile from a howitzer, and hecried aloud, his habitual calmness and lazy habit of speech flung to thewinds.

  "You're not the only happy men in the world," he shouted. "I'm happierthan the three of you put together, I am! Because my Darling is the bestand most beautiful of all Darlings, and if any man dares to gainsaythat, let him just step outside with me for five minutes--that's all."

  Colonel Meredith's hair bristled like the mane of a fighting terrier.

  "Do you mean to say," he whispered to Maud in a sort of savage whisper,"that I've got to swallow that insult without protest?"

  It was on the tip of Maud's tongue to say that she didn't know what hemeant. But how could she say that when she knew perfectly well?

  "Only give me the right to answer him," continued the sincere warrior.He rose to his feet. "Is it yes--or no?"

  "It's yes--yes," exclaimed Maud and, horrified with herself, she leanedback blushing and full of wonder.

  "Mr. Jonstone--Mr. Bob--Jonstone!" cried Colonel Meredith.

  Mr. Jonstone's attention was presently attracted, and he gave his cousina glittering look.

  "I'll be only too delighted to step outside with you for five minutes,"said Colonel Meredith.

  And the cousins glared and glared at each other. But whether or not theywere really in earnest, if only for a moment, will never be known; atany rate, each of them appeared suddenly to perceive something comicabout the other, and both burst into peals of schoolboy laughter.

  Only Gay's happiness seemed a little forced, and her mother's.