CHAPTER XIX
ON THE LAKE
In making love, as in every other branch of life, consistency is thequality most to be aimed at. To hedge is fatal. A man must choosethe line of action that he judges to be best suited to histemperament, and hold to it without deviation. If Lochinvar snatchesthe maiden up on his saddle-bow, he must continue in that vein. Hemust not fancy that, having accomplished the feat, he can resume theepisode on lines of devotional humility. Prehistoric man, whoconducted his courtship with a club, never fell into the error ofapologizing when his bride complained of headache.
Jimmy did not apologize. The idea did not enter his mind. He wasfeeling prehistoric. His heart was beating fast, and his mind was ina whirl, but the one definite thought that came to him during thefirst few seconds of the journey was that he ought to have done thisearlier. This was the right way. Pick her up and carry her off, andleave uncles and fathers and butter-haired peers of the realm tolook after themselves. This was the way. Alone together in their ownlittle world of water, with nobody to interrupt and nobody tooverhear! He should have done it before. He had wasted precious,golden time, hanging about while futile men chattered to her ofthings that could not possibly be of interest. But he had done theright thing at last. He had got her. She must listen to him now. Shecould not help listening. They were the only inhabitants of this newworld.
He looked back over his shoulder at the world they had left. Thelast of the Dreevers had rounded the clump of laurels, and wasstanding at the edge of the water, gazing perplexedly after theretreating canoe.
"These poets put a thing very neatly sometimes," said Jimmyreflectively, as he dug the paddle into the water. "The man whosaid, 'Distance lends enchantment to the view,' for instance.Dreever looks quite nice when you see him as far away as this, witha good strip of water in between."
Molly, gazing over the side of the boat into the lake, abstainedfrom feasting her eyes on the picturesque spectacle.
"Why did you do it?" she said, in a low voice.
Jimmy shipped the paddle, and allowed the canoe to drift. The rippleof the water against the prow sounded clear and thin in thestillness. The world seemed asleep. The sun blazed down, turning thewater to flame. The air was hot, with the damp electrical heat thatheralds a thunderstorm. Molly's face looked small and cool in theshade of her big hat. Jimmy, as he watched her, felt that he haddone well. This was, indeed, the way.
"Why did you do it?" she said again.
"I had to."
"Take me back."
"No."
He took up the paddle, and placed a broader strip of water betweenthe two worlds; then paused once more.
"I have something to say to you first," he said.
She did not answer. He looked over his shoulder again. His lordshiphad disappeared.
"Do you mind if I smoke?"
She nodded. He filled his pipe carefully, and lighted it. The smokemoved sluggishly up through the still air. There was a long silence.A fish jumped close by, falling back in a shower of silver drops.Molly started at the sound, and half-turned.
"That was a fish," she said, as a child might have done.
Jimmy knocked the ashes out of his pipe.
"What made you do it?" he asked abruptly, echoing her own question.
She drew her fingers slowly through the water without speaking.
"You know what I mean. Dreever told me."
She looked up with a flash of spirit, which died away as she spoke.
"What right?" She stopped, and looked away again.
"None," said Jimmy. "But I wish you would tell me."
She hung her head. Jimmy bent forward, and touched her hand.
"Don't" he said; "for God's sake, don't! You mustn't."
"I must," she said, miserably.
"You sha'n't. It's wicked."
"I must. It's no good talking about it. It's too late."
"It's not. You must break it off to-day."
She shook her head. Her fingers still dabbled mechanically in thewater. The sun was hidden now behind a gray veil, which deepenedinto a sullen black over the hill behind the castle. The heat hadgrown more oppressive, with a threat of coming storm.
"What made you do it?" he asked again.
"Don't let's talk about it ... Please!"
He had a momentary glimpse of her face. There were tears in hereyes. At the sight, his self-control snapped.
"You sha'n't," he cried. "It's ghastly. I won't let you. You mustunderstand now. You must know what you are to me. Do you think Ishall let you--?"
A low growl of thunder rumbled through the stillness, like themuttering of a sleepy giant. The black cloud that had hung over thehill had crept closer. The heat was stifling. In the middle of thelake, some fifty yards distant, lay the island, cool and mysteriousin the gathering darkness.
Jimmy broke off, and seized the paddle.
On this side of the island was a boathouse, a little creek coveredover with boards and capable of sheltering an ordinary rowboat. Heran the canoe in just as the storm began, and turned her broadsideon, so that they could watch the rain, which was sweeping over thelake in sheets.
He began to speak again, more slowly now.
"I think I loved you from the first day I saw you on the ship. And,then, I lost you. I found you again by a miracle, and lost youagain. I found you here by another miracle, but this time I am notgoing to lose you. Do you think I'm going to stand by and see youtaken from me by--by--"
He took her hand.
"Molly, you can't love him. It isn't possible. If I thought you did,I wouldn't try to spoil your happiness. I'd go away. But you don't.You can't. He's nothing. Molly!"
The canoe rocked as he leaned toward her.
"Molly!"
She said nothing; but, for the first time, her eyes met his, clearand unwavering. He could read fear in them, fear--not of himself, ofsomething vague, something he could not guess at. But they shonewith a light that conquered the fear as the sun conquers fire; andhe drew her to him, and kissed her again and again, murmuringincoherently.
Suddenly, she wrenched herself away, struggling like some wildthing. The boat plunged.
"I can't," she cried in a choking voice. "I mustn't. Oh, I can't!"
He stretched out a hand, and clutched at the rail than ran along thewall. The plunging ceased. He turned. She had hidden her face, andwas sobbing, quietly, with the forlorn hopelessness of a lost child.
He made a movement toward her, but drew back. He felt dazed.
The rain thudded and splashed on the wooden roof. A few dropstrickled through a crack in the boards. He took off his coat, andplaced it gently over her shoulders.
"Molly!"
She looked up with wet eyes.
"Molly, dear, what is it?"
"I mustn't. It isn't right."
"I don't understand."
"I mustn't, Jimmy."
He moved cautiously forward, holding the rail, till he was at herside, and took her in his arms.
"What is it, dear? Tell me."
She clung to him without speaking.
"You aren't worrying about him, are you--about Dreever? There'snothing to worry about. It'll be quite easy and simple. I'll tellhim, if you like. He knows you don't care for him; and, besides,there's a girl in London that he--"
"No, no. It's not that."
"What is it, dear? What's troubling you?"
"Jimmy--" She stopped.
He waited.
"Yes?"
"Jimmy, my father wouldn't--father--father--doesn't--"
"Doesn't like me?"
She nodded miserably.
A great wave of relief swept over Jimmy. He had imagined--he hardlyknew what he had imagined: some vast, insuperable obstacle; sometremendous catastrophe, whirling them asunder. He could have laughedaloud in his happiness. So, this was it, this was the cloud thatbrooded over them--that Mr. McEachern did not like him! The angel,guarding Eden with a fiery sword, had changed into a policeman witha truncheon.
/>
"He must learn to love me," he said, lightly.
She looked at him hopelessly. He could not see; he could notunderstand. And how could she tell him? Her father's words rang inher brain. He was "crooked." He was "here on some game." He wasbeing watched. But she loved him, she loved him! Oh, how could shemake him understand?
She clung tighter to him, trembling. He became serious again. "Dear,you mustn't worry," he said. "It can't be helped. He'll come round.Once we're married--"
"No, no. Oh, can't you understand? I couldn't, I couldn't!"
Jimmy's face whitened. He looked at her anxiously.
"But, dear!" he said. "You can't--do you mean to say--will that--"he searched for a word-"stop you?" he concluded.
"It must," she whispered.
A cold hand clutched at his heart. His world was falling to pieces,crumbling under his eyes.
"But--but you love me," he said, slowly. It was as if he were tryingto find the key to a puzzle. "I--don't see."
"You couldn't. You can't. You're a man. You don't know. It's sodifferent for a man! He's brought up all his life with the idea ofleaving home. He goes away naturally."
"But, dear, you couldn't live at home all your life. Whoever youmarried--"
"But this would be different. Father would never speak to me again.I should never see him again. He would go right out of my life.Jimmy, I couldn't. A girl can't cut away twenty years of her life,and start fresh like that. I should be haunted. I should make youmiserable. Every day, a hundred little things would remind me ofhim, and I shouldn't be strong enough to resist them. You don't knowhow fond he is of me, how good he has always been. Ever since I canremember, we've been such friends. You've only seen the outside ofhim, and I know how different that is from what he really is. Allhis life he has thought only of me. He has told me things abouthimself which nobody else dreams of, and I know that all these yearshe has been working just for me. Jimmy, you don't hate me for sayingthis, do you?"
"Go on," he said, drawing her closer to him.
"I can't remember my mother. She died when I was quite little. So,he and I have been the only ones--till you came."
Memories of those early days crowded her mind as she spoke, makingher voice tremble; half-forgotten trifles, many of them, fraughtwith the glamour and fragrance of past happiness.
"We have always been together. He trusted me, and I trusted him, andwe saw things through together. When I was ill, he used to sit upall night with me, night after night. Once--I'd only got a littlefever, really, but I thought I was terribly bad--I heard him come inlate, and called out to him, and he came straight in, and sat andheld my hand all through the night; and it was only by accident Ifound out later that it had been raining and that he was soakedthrough. It might have killed him. We were partners, Jimmy, dear. Icouldn't do anything to hurt him now, could I? It wouldn't besquare."
Jimmy had turned away his head, for fear his face might betray whathe was feeling. He was in a hell of unreasoning jealousy. He wantedher, body and soul, and every word she said bit like a raw wound. Amoment before, and he had felt that she belonged to him. Now, in thefirst shock of reaction, he saw himself a stranger, an intruder, atrespasser on holy ground.
She saw the movement, and her intuition put her in touch with histhoughts.
"No, no," she cried; "no, Jimmy, not that!"
Their eyes met, and he was satisfied.
They sat there, silent. The rain had lessened its force, and wasfalling now in a gentle shower. A strip of blue sky, pale andwatery, showed through the gray over the hills. On the island closebehind them, a thrush had begun to sing.
"What are we to do?" she said, at last. "What can we do?"
"We must wait," he said. "It will all come right. It must. Nothingcan stop us now."
The rain had ceased. The blue had routed the gray, and driven itfrom the sky. The sun, low down in the west, shone out bravely overthe lake. The air was cool and fresh.
Jimmy's spirits rose with a bound. He accepted the omen. This wasthe world as it really was, smiling and friendly, not gray, as hehad fancied it. He had won. Nothing could alter that. What remainedto be done was trivial. He wondered how he could ever have allowedit to weigh upon him.
After awhile, he pushed the boat out of its shelter on to theglittering water, and seized the paddle.
"We must be getting back," he said. "I wonder what the time is. Iwish we could stay out forever. But it must be late. Molly!"
"Yes?"
"Whatever happens, you'll break off this engagement with Dreever?Shall I tell him? I will if you like."
"No, I will. I'll write him a note, if I don't see him beforedinner."
Jimmy paddled on a few strokes.
"It's no good," he said suddenly, "I can't keep it in. Molly, do youmind if I sing a bar or two? I've got a beastly voice, but I'mfeeling rather happy. I'll stop as soon as I can."
He raised his voice discordantly.
Covertly, from beneath the shade of her big hat, Molly watched himwith troubled eyes. The sun had gone down behind the hills, and thewater had ceased to glitter. There was a suggestion of chill in theair. The great mass of the castle frowned down upon them, dark andforbidding in the dim light.
She shivered.
The Intrusion of Jimmy Page 19