The Breaking Point

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  XX

  On the seventh of June David and Lucy went to the seashore, went bythe order of various professional gentlemen who had differed violentlyduring the course of David's illness, but who now suddenly agreed withan almost startling unanimity. Which unanimity was the result of carefulcoaching by Dick.

  He saw in David's absence his only possible chance to go back to Noradawithout worry to the sick man, and he felt, too, that a change, gettingaway from the surcharged atmosphere of the old house, would be good forboth David and Lucy.

  For days before they started Lucy went about in a frenzy of nervousenergy, writing out menus for Minnie for a month ahead, counting andrecounting David's collars and handkerchiefs, cleaning and pressing hisneckties. In the harness room in the stable Mike polished boots untilhis arms ached, and at the last moment with trunks already bulging,came three gift dressing-gowns for David, none of which he would leavebehind.

  "I declare," Lucy protested to Dick, "I don't know what's come over him.Every present he's had since he was sick he's taking along. You'd thinkhe was going to be shut up on a desert island."

  But Dick thought he understood. In David's life his friends had had totake the place of wife and children; he clung to them now, in his ageand weakness, and Dick knew that he had a sense of deserting them, ofabandoning them after many faithful years.

  So David carried with him the calendars and slippers, dressing-gowns andbed-socks which were at once the tangible evidence of their friendlinessand Lucy's despair.

  Watching him, Dick was certain nothing further had come to threaten hisrecovery. Dick carefully inspected the mail, but no suspicious letterhad arrived, and as the days went on David's peace seemed finallyre-established. He made no more references to Johns Hopkins, slept likea child, and railed almost pettishly at his restricted diet.

  "When we get away from Dick, Lucy," he would say, "we'll have beefagain, and roast pork and sausage."

  Lucy would smile absently and shake her head.

  "You'll stick to your diet, David," she would say. "David, it's thestrangest thing about your winter underwear. I'm sure you had fivesuits, and now there are only three."

  Or it was socks she missed, or night-clothing. And David, inwardlychuckling, would wonder with her, knowing all the while that they hadclothed some needy body.

  On the night before the departure David went out for his first shortwalk alone, and brought Elizabeth back with him.

  "I found a rose walking up the street, Lucy," he bellowed up the stairs,"and I brought it home for the dinner table."

  Lucy came down, flushed from her final effort over the trunks, butgently hospitable.

  "It's fish night, Elizabeth," she said. "You know Minnie's a Catholic,so we always have fish on Friday. I hope you eat it." She put her handon Elizabeth's arm and gently patted it, and thus was Elizabeth takeninto the old brick house as one of its own.

  Elizabeth was finding this period of her tacit engagement ratherpuzzling. Her people puzzled her. Even Dick did, at times. And nobodyseemed anxious to make plans for the future, or even to discuss thewedding. She was a little hurt about that, remembering the excitementover Nina's.

  But what chiefly bewildered her was the seeming necessity for secrecy.Even Nina had not been told, nor Jim. She did not resent that, althoughit bewildered her. Her own inclination was to shout it from thehouse-tops. Her father had simply said: "I've told your mother, honey,and we'd better let it go at that, for a while. There's no hurry. And Idon't want to lose you yet."

  But there were other things. Dick himself varied. He was always gentleand very tender, but there were times when he seemed to hold himselfaway from her, would seem aloof and remote, but all the time watchingher almost fiercely. But after that, as though he had tried anexperiment in separation and failed with it, he would catch her to himsavagely and hold her there. She tried, very meekly, to meet his mood;was submissive to his passion and acquiescent to those intervals whenhe withdrew himself and sat or stood near her, not touching her butwatching her intently.

  She thought men in love were very queer and quite incomprehensible.Because he varied in other ways, too. He was boyish and gay sometimes,and again silent and almost brooding. She thought at those times thatperhaps he was tired, what with David's work and his own, and sometimesshe wondered if he were still worrying about that silly story. But onceor twice, after he had gone, she went upstairs and looked carefully intoher mirror. Perhaps she had not looked her best that day. Girl-like, sheset great value on looks in love. She wanted frightfully to be beautifulto him. She wished she could look like Beverly Carlysle, for instance.

  Two days before David and Lucy's departure he had brought her herengagement ring, a square-cut diamond set in platinum. He kissed itfirst and then her finger, and slipped it into place. It became a rite,done as he did it, and she had a sense of something done that couldnever be undone. When she looked up at him he was very pale.

  "Forsaking all others, so long as we both shall live," he said,unsteadily.

  "So long as we both shall live," she repeated.

  However she had to take it off later, for Mrs. Wheeler, it developed,had very pronounced ideas of engagement rings. They were put on the daythe notices were sent to the newspapers, and not before. So Elizabethwore her ring around her neck on a white ribbon, inside her camisole,until such time as her father would consent to announce that he wasabout to lose her.

  Thus Elizabeth found her engagement full of unexpected turns and twists,and nothing precisely as she had expected. But she accepted thingsas they came, being of the type around which the dramas of life areenacted, while remaining totally undramatic herself. She lived her quietdays, worried about Jim on occasion, hemmed table napkins for her linenchest, and slept at night with her ring on her finger and a sense ofbeing wrapped in protecting love that was no longer limited to the whiteWheeler house, but now extended two blocks away and around the corner toa shabby old brick building in a more or less shabby yard.

  They were very gay in the old brick house that night before thedeparture, very noisy over the fish and David's broiled lamb chop. Dickdemanded a bottle of Lucy's home-made wine, and even David got a littleof it. They toasted the seashore, and the departed nurse, and Davidquoted Robert Burns at some length and in a horrible Scotch accent.Then Dick had a trick by which one read the date on one of three pennieswhile he was not looking, and he could tell without failing which oneit was. It was most mysterious. And after dinner Dick took her into hislaboratory, and while she squinted one eye and looked into the finder ofhis microscope he kissed the white nape of her neck.

  When they left the laboratory there were patients in the waiting-room,but he held her in his arms in the office for a moment or two, veryquietly, and because the door was thin they made a sort of game of it,and pretended she was a patient.

  "How did you sleep last night?" he said, in a highly professional andvery distinct voice. Then he kissed her.

  "Very badly, doctor," she said, also very clearly, and whispered, "I layawake and thought about you, dear."

  "I'd better give you this sleeping powder." Oh, frightfullyprofessional, but the powder turned out to be another kiss. It was awonderful game.

  When she slipped out into the hall she had to stop and smooth her hair,before she went to Lucy's tidy sitting-room.