"IF EVER I FIND A MAN!"
"I trust you've not been getting into trouble, Mr. Lightnut!"
Her lovely eyes were dancing with mischief as they hung there below
mine--eyes, bluer than the Hudson at our feet; yet between the jolly
ripples that played across those pools of truth I could glimpse far down
into depths that were the most devilishly entrancing, darkly, deeply,
beautifully--oh, _you_ know!
Why, by Jove, I almost took a cropper right into them! Only caught just
in time, you know; straightened right on the verge, as it were--and came
up with a gasp, monocle dangling.
Had almost forgotten the dashed windows--and the two cats that might be
looking out!
I murmured some jolly apology, adding:
"Oh, yes--quite so; certainly! I _mean_--eh what?"
She was smiling, her rose-petal lip dragging through her teeth.
"The 'bobby,' you know, just now"--she nodded toward the
_porte-cochere_--"I was positive he had come to drag you away to your
loathsome dungeon. And when he retired, I was--oh, _so_ relieved!" And
she clasped her hands, her eyes lifting upward.
"Oh, I say now--were you, though?" I grinned delightedly and slipping to
a rustic chair beside her, looked her affectionately in the eye. For all
her air of chaffing, I knew that under it was a current of anxiety for
me--the darling!
I screwed my glass at her tenderly.
"What would you have done," I said softly, "if he had--er--lugged me
off, you know?"
"_Can_ you ask?" What a reproachful side-glance she shot me through the
meshes of her silken what-you-call-'ems! "Why, of course, I should have
drawn my good excalibar and run him thr-r-rough and thr-r-r-ough!"
By Jove, how she said it! And she illustrated with the stemless
rose--dash it, no; the roseless stem! She was _superb_--looked like the
jolly fencing girl; only a dashed sight more stunning, don't you know!
And her excalibar, too! Didn't know what a jolly excalibar was, but
guessed it was some delightfully mysterious but deadly feminine
thing--some kind of submerged hat-pin-sort-of-thing, you know--_that_
sort, dash it! Yet she would have drawn it--and her _good_ one, too, she
said!
"Jove!" I said feelingly. "Would you, _really_?" And I almost took her
hand--and again remembered the windows! So I just shot her a look.
Her glorious eyes sparkled. "That is, I would if I had one," she said
smiling; "but I'm afraid poor Arthur lost the last and only one. Sad,
isn't it?"
"Oh!"
I just felt my jolly heart sink like what's-its-name. Who the deuce was
"poor Arthur?" This must be another--some other thundering chap who had
been engaged to her. And what a rotten, careless beggar, too, to have
lost it--that is, if he _really_ had! Of course, he would say so,
anyhow. And how the deuce did he get it, in the first place--did she
give it to him, or did he--
By Jove, how I should have liked to punch Arthur's head! Always did hate
a chap with that name! I flushed guiltily, but she did not see. For the
moment, she was looking off dreamily across the valley.
"I wonder," she said pensively, "why it is one can never find another
man like Arthur. Do you suppose it is because he was the ideal?"
For an instant, I swallowed hard--then I plucked up bravely, or tried
to, don't you know.
"Jolly likely!" I chirped. Then gloomily: "Oh, I say, you know, was he
_your_ ideal?"
"Always!"--the blue eyes lighted wistfully--"I suppose it's because he
was my first love; I found him so brave, so noble-mannered, you know--so
simple!"
_Simple!_ Dash simple people--never could stand them! Thing _I_ admired
was brains! Aloud I said gently--almost humbly:
"So glad you like him, don't you know--_did_ like, I mean!"
"_Did_ like? I do still!"--her tone lifted in earnest protest--"I love
to think of brave, dear Arthur and his knights--so few, and yet so full
of love, of gallantry and daring!"
So _his_ nights were like that! By Jove, I was devilish glad then that
they had been _so few_--that was some comfort, dash it! I wondered if
the beggar was dead. But what difference did it make now, after all? She
was mine now and she knew I knew it; that was why this sweet, ingenuous
child was laying bare to me her past--the darling!
Really, I ought not to let her go on.
"Never mind them now," I urged soothingly. And heedless of the windows,
I hitched a wee bit closer. "That's all past and gone and you and I will
yet see as good nights as they _ever_ were." I spoke with assurance.
"Don't _you_ think so?" I added softly.
She sighed. "I don't know--I hope so!"--she lingered dubiously over it,
looking away again, the while her hand put back the fleecy, golden
what-you-call-it that was snuggling to her eyes. I looked at the
goddess-like forearm, bared to above the elbow, where it slipped from
sight under the roll of sleeve, and thought of that night in my
apartment when she had made me feel of her biceps, don't you know.
How deliciously shy she was! Remembered hearing Pugsley say they are
often that way with the development of love. Told me he thought he'd get
married once--looked over the girls of his set and picked out one; then
he went to see her. She was devilish cordial at first and until Pugsley
began to tell her about it, then she began to grow agitated--finally
went out of the room and had hysterics. _Next_ time he saw her she
hardly was able to speak to him! Said that ended it and he passed her
up--too dashed much bother trying to follow 'em, he decided; they were
too high-strung, too emotional, too uncertain of themselves, _he_
thought.
I gave her five seconds, and then--
"You don't _know_?" I repeated with gentle reproach. "Oh, I say, you
know! You know you _know_ you know!" By Jove, that sounded rather rum,
but I knew she knew I knew she _knew_--see?
She looked at me sidewise, her slender forefinger pressing the
half-parted lips slowly shaping in a curve. Then her little teeth
flashed, jewel-like--regular jolly pearl setting in the frankest,
sweetest smile!--and then her glorious arm and wrist arched suddenly
toward me.
"Yes!" she said contritely, and with the most delightful, kindest
inflection and laugh--such a laugh!--a laugh gurglingly melodious--oh,
dash it, yes; I mean just that!--like the flute notes in the overture to
what's-his-name--_that_ sort!
"That's the way I love to hear a man talk!" she said warmly. "I think
it takes an American to stand up for his own place, his own
times--_please_!"
And gently, but with a lovely smile, she withdrew her hand that I had
folded close in mine. I let it go, for I saw her look toward the house,
and, of course, _I_ understood--jolly careless of me not to have
remembered--but she would know from my nod and shrug that I
comprehended.
And really, by Jove, it was almost as pleasant as holding her hand, just
to watch her leaning back against the iron pillar about which curved the
dark-leaved tendrils of some purple-flowering vine. By Jove, she just
looked like a stunning, white, Easter-card angel--that's what!--even to
the golden hair they always have and the jolly wings; for her gleaming
arms, spread behind her head, made you think of that. But _that_ was as
near as one of them could come to her, for no golden-haired angel in
white flowing nightgown was ever a patch on her for _style_!
Never a one could look so _chic_ as she did in her smart linen suit,
with its blue flannel collar, caught low with a flowing, breezy tie; and
no jolly angel _I_ ever saw pictured could sport a waist like that, so
dainty, so modish, so jolly snug and--er--squeezable, don't you
know--_never_! And I was devilish sure that no barefooted or sandaled
angel would ever dare to put a foot beside one of those little white
Oxfords or that arching instep, just blushing faintly through the silken
mesh that held it--well, I guess not! And where the angel, I should
like to know, that could match her glorious, fluffy pompadour or the
distracting little golden smoke wisps that whirled and pulled and
tangled and tossed and twisted and tugged, trying to lift her in their
feeble arms into the current of the wandering breeze?
I sighed, and my deep breath brought her gaze back to me and her
flashing smile as well.
"And so," she said, lifting her little chin, "you think there are just
as many knights now as there used to be?"
I almost laughed at the child-like question--but I didn't! Dash it, no,
I wouldn't have done so for the world. Just looked at her seriously and
answered her in kind:
"Perfectly sure of it, don't you know!"
And, by Jove, I was! Knew if there had been any change, some
newspaper-reading chap at the club would have mentioned it--_that_ was
safe: especially one silly ass who was always reading of some jolly
comet that was coming. _He_ would know about the nights.
"Yes--oh, yes, there are just as many," I affirmed positively, and added
quickly: "_More_, you know!" For suddenly I remembered it was leap-year,
and I knew there was some jolly rhyme about leap-year gives us one day
more--so, of course, there'd be another _night_!
"You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that," she said musingly.
"There are just as many knights, you mean, but the conditions have
changed--the _man_ is changed--is that it?"
I should say the man was changed! "Oh, dash it, yes!" I blurted. By
Jove, I hoped there wouldn't be another change.
"You mean"--with a little, challenging, puzzled smile, she leaned
forward, her elbow resting upon her knee like a sculptured, Grecian
pillar; her flower-like curving fingers supporting her chin like a
Corinthian what's-its-name, you know, the sort of thing the ancient
what-you-call-'ems always added to top off their stunning marble
columns--_you_ know!--well, like that--"you mean we may find knights,
not only in the field, but in the shops, upon the streets--even in the
slums; or in the hospitals, in the church or even on the bench--_that_
is your idea?"
It _wasn't_ my idea at all--I should say not! Who wanted to spend nights
prowling around _that_ way? Why--why, it wasn't respectable, dash it!
Besides, that sort of thing--excursioning about seeing things--was
devilish tiresome, if you asked me. I never did do it, even abroad,
where you meet Americans, jolly bored and tired, doing all sorts of rum
places no one else ever thinks of, don't you know.
And as for a _bench_! Well, it was like her, in her innocence of the
world, not to know how downright vulgar that would be. I had seen
couples sitting evenings in the park--and I _knew_!
But I answered tactfully:
"I don't mean those places so much, don't you know--I think we can find
lots jollier and better nights elsewhere." And I closed my free eye and
beamed at her through my glass. "Don't have to go so far, you know;
under one's own roof, or--er--some one else's roof, for instance--why
not _here_?" I jerked my head toward the old stone pile behind us.
"Oh!"--her eyebrows lifted at me--"so you've thought of that, too?"--she
nodded gravely--"you mean in the library there?"
I winked assent.
The library suited _me_ all right!
"Just now," she said in an oddly sobered voice, "I looked in as I passed
through, and he was looking so crushed, so worn and tired, you know--he
had just come from up-stairs; and yet he faced me so bravely and
smilingly"--she shook her head--"poor fellow!"
I stared--puzzled, don't you know. Offhand, dash me if I could see what
the judge had to do with our evenings together--why, I had his own
approval of my suit. Then I remembered that she, of course, didn't know
that--_yet_. Probably what she had in her dear little mind was that he
might be holding the library--and he _would_, if he continued to think
he was busy; for I had heard him say he expected to work all night. But
then, there were dozens and dozens of others places we could go--well,
I should just _say_!
I had just bent forward to suggest this to her when I saw she was going
to speak. So I waited, smiling at her tenderly.
"And about Arthur--" she began, and I cut myself a painful stab with my
nails--right in the palm--"now there is a case where I think you
find"--she nodded toward the house again--"where you find one of his
superb qualities, the one quality that, of all, I admire in a man the
most."
"By Jove!" I said, leaning forward. I wondered what it was--and then,
dash it, I asked her.
"Just _trust_!" she said simply, and her face grew luminous. "Faith,
perhaps I should say. _My_ father has it larger than any man I ever
knew; it is something that goes out from him with his friendship, with
his love, making a dual gift"--her voice dropped thoughtfully--"I have
studied it in him all my life, and it has always seemed so beautiful to
me--so wonderful--the unquestioning peace he has"--her blue eyes
widened, shining--"has ever in return for the perfect, abiding trust
that he gives to the thing he calls his own. I _know_, for he has made
_me_ feel it from the time I was a tiny little girl!" The last word was
almost a whisper, so tense, so vibrant with feeling was it--she _seemed_
to have forgotten my existence. "And if ever I find a man--" she
breathed.
I coughed slightly and she started, stared at me--and then the dimple
deepened in her cheek, lost in a bed of jolly roses. Her laughter pealed
forth, birdlike--delicious!
"I _beg_ your pardon!" she said. "But when I think of papa and of how he
believes in his children, especially poor little _me_, I think I must
get--" Her roguish, puzzled smile searched my face. "_How_ is it you say
it?--oh, I know--'I think I must be getting _dippy_!'"
And it was the first slang I had heard from those sweet lips since the
night she was in my rooms!